snowblindrpg | [network] @ASolomons; audio, morning of 265 [open]

[John can remember, keenly, going for days without eating after he thought Sherlock had died, after Mary had died. People at work had prodded him into it. Coffee with Mary had made him want to eat again. She'd brightened his life in the middle of a very dark place. Having a purpose here again had kickstarted John's own motivations. He could see through the despair to keep Sherlock safe here where he'd put his best friend in harm's way back in their own reality.]

It's okay to be pathetic sometimes, Enoch. It's okay to be weak and unmotivated. Just remember that it's not something that's forever. You will get past this. Give it time and keep yourself alive in the meanwhile so you're there to see it through.

What is it, what's different?

[He sounds as if he doesn't expect to come across or be given an answer, and he uses the time to get in a few more bites.

The idea is only half-coherent in his mind when his mouth picks it up.]

Vileness...

[The essence of corruption itself. It twisted his mind so a demon could use his body as a weapon, but his mind was still his - the grief and doubt and resentment it had brought to the forefront and blocked out everything that was good still came from him. It hurt, more than anything in the world, at the time, dealing with these ugly feelings bloated beyond all reason. Much like what John recognizes as depression, actually, but artificially strengthened. It had weighed his legs, but had not stayed them. This has, because...]

...this is worse.

It's worse than vileness?

[John's not entirely following.]

[He doesn't even think about it, in his current state, how nonsensical it is to someone who doesn't already know what he means.]

It changed me. My thoughts.

[And then a thought just barely out of reach of words becomes clear, and his voice breaks all over again as yet another layer of awfulness makes itself apparent.]

Turned the best parts of me into weapons...

[Ah...]

Yeah. That would bother me, as well. Look, Enoch, just because someone else was able to do that doesn't mean that those best parts are anything less good than they were to begin with. Someone made you a tool. Of course it would use whatever parts of you it could to make you the best tool you could be.

I know. It only-...

[He sniffs. It doesn't do him much good as far as holding back more tears.]

That's- they guide me to aid, protect.

And they still do. Now you know how to do it the right way. The cult just tried to twist it 'round.

They did!

[It comes out stronger than anything else in this conversation, and with it the tears start again- stronger now, themselves. Whatever this is runs deeper than the initial shock and pain from before.]

That's me, that's who I am, what I am, what I choose! They had no right-...!

[The rest of that thought is not words, but deep, wrenching sobs pulled out from whatever reserve he'd been stifling. Eventually, the outburst quiets enough to permit words between them:]

Even...even less...to do so to hurt innocents...couldn't even defend themselves...

[Christ, he really hadn't meant to unlock this well of emotion. He hadn't meant to make Enoch cry. John's not unfamiliar with people crying. He's been to war. Men cry in terror, in grief. He's run with Sherlock long enough to see it as well, the families and loved ones of murder victims. It's heart-breaking, even more-so when he can't actually do anything to help Enoch in this moment. Nothing except be a willing ear over the phone.]

It was all wrong, Enoch. Everything they did was wrong and we're going to find whatever or whoever did this and stop it from ever happening again. I promise.

[To John's credit, he needed to feel this. He's still processing what happened, still putting a chaotic mess of pain to words and making sense of how he feels, and he'll be less able to do that when he goes back to being able to effectively hide behind other peoples' problems again.]

I- I hope we can, I want to hope we can.

[He sniffs wetly, trying to hold back the flood of tears.]

Look at me, they're hurting, they're all- and here I am-... You should help them instead.

[John would know nothing about using other people's problems to outrun his own. Nothing.]

Enoch. D'you think other people hurting means that you're not? You're hurting, too. You need help. I wish I could be there for you, but...

[He shifts to video to at least give the other man a face to go with the voice.]

Hey, it's okay for you to be upset. You've got every right to be. You were tortured in there just as much as anyone else. You were tortured. You had your mind ripped out of your control. You had your thoughts altered and you were forced to do things you never would have done. That hurts. You know that, right? Being upset like this? It's natural. It's right.

I know...I know.

[If nothing else, this is giving him some form of strength. More than that emptiness that had preceded all this.]

They were trapped...they need- they were more helpless, they-...

[He runs out of steam about here, breathing heavy and tired. There's a clicking noise as he reaches for his tablet and sees John has switched to video. Should he do the same? He already sounds pathetic enough.]

It's selfish.

Enoch, you were just as helpless as them. More-so in parts, maybe. They didn't have their thoughts twisted around to hurt other people. And this isn't a competition. Stop treating it like it is one. This isn't selfish. It's human.

[The good part is that speaking no longer feels like an impossible burden. That's about the only good part, because it comes paired with killing his appetite all over again.

Especially the thought that he might be depriving others of the help John is currently giving him, distorted by the lens of the thought he deserves it less.]

Keeping you here, it is. Others might not have anyone to talk to. You must have had friends in there, too.

[He's really trying not to be annoyed, but Enoch's making that challenging.]

Enoch.

[The name is sharp, sharper than he means it to be, but maybe it's tough love time since something more conciliatory isn't getting through to him.]

You do not get to decide how I spend my time. You don't have any hold over me. I choose to speak with you. I might choose to speak with other people. That's my prerogative. In this moment? This conversation? It's the two of us. Now get your head out of your arse and accept that this is about what I want to do, not what you're making me do.

[Sensitive to harming others, now moreso than ever before, he flinches at the shift in tone. It may not have the desired effect, exactly, but it still prevents that despair from settling comfortably in its roots.]

Sorry, I'm sorry, I hadn't meant-... I-...

[If anything, it makes him think about what it is about him he doesn't want John to have to deal with, instead of "other people might need it more".]

I- feel I'm not worth-... I know it wasn't me, but it still- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know how to stop feeling this way.

[He knows John wants to help him. He has no idea how to make that attempt worthwhile. If it will ever be worthwhile. How does he help John not waste this effort? He knows it's impractical to wish he could just stop feeling the way he does but, paradoxically, feels he's failing in some way for not doing so.

Basically, he's a confused mess.]

[John sighs.]

You won't stop feeling this way in this conversation. Maybe not in conversations down the line, either, but I need you to remember that what you're feeling is not a permanent state. You will feel better. In the meanwhile, you need to step up as best you can and try to combat the negative thoughts you're having with something positive, or at least neutral.

"I don't know how to stop feeling this way. But that's all right because I've felt other ways in the past. And I'll be able to feel those ways again. Find a memory in your head of a time when you weren't feeling like this. Try to remember what it was like. What you were doing and how good it felt. Focus on that, center yourself, and then carry on as best you can. Because you know that that? That is within your reach. It can be that way again.

A time when I...

[When does he feel at his best? Here, it's...usually when he's talking to Beckett, actually. Some of the moments he feels like his existence here is more than just clinging to survival. Fulfilling, in a way that brings the world into focus again.

He goes quiet. Is Beckett still his friend, after all of that? He needs to find out. It won't happen right away, of course. After he hangs up, it will take him several false starts of crying bouts and abject despair, but he will at least get himself moving again.]

...I think I know what I need to do. Thank you.

You're welcome, and good luck, Enoch. I'll be here if you need to talk again. And please do not hesitate to call me. You won't be bothering me.

[network] @ASolomons; audio, morning of 265 [open]

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private; I'm sorry for how one-note he is right now

private; no worries!

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private > private video

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