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Who: Sean and Joshua
Where: Police Station
When: Late

Sean had been worried anyway when the phone rang - Joshua should have been home already, though he wasn't running that late being that, since he'd been out with Lullaby and was a teenaged lad, Sean had mentally added on an hour to the time he'd expected him home. But that hour had been and gone and Sean had answered the phone on the first ring.

It being the police didn't help matters at all and Sean was only half listening as they filled him in - that fact he was listening at all instead of just halfway to the station was the fact that someone had had the foresight to start the call with 'he's okay, but...'. And then the but turned out to be the death of Lullaby and Sean was all sorts of concerned again. Concerned enough that he completely forgot himself and the fact he'd have to get Joshua home and flew to the police station - it was faster than driving and getting there at speed was the most important thing here.

He entered the building and was led to his charge, pushing past the police officer as soon as he saw Joshua, sitting there, by someone's desk, covered in blood. Oh shit. "Joshua?" he asked, putting a hand to the boy's shoulder.

Joshua had lost all sense of time. It was just whoosh-gone, so the period in between when the cops stopped bothering asking him questions he'd trailed off in answering and the arrival of Sean felt both instantaneous and like it took three billion years all at once. It was really only the familiar pronunciation of his name that got his attention. Nobody here said it like that. He looked up, wide stare uncomprehending for a moment before Sean's face started to make sense. Every thought felt like it was covered in glue, and oh god was he tired. "Hey," he said quietly, and that was really the best he could come up with.

Sean squatted down in front of his charge, a look of pity and concern on his face. "How you doing?" he asked, not going to ask if he was okay - the fact that he wasn't was self-evident. He resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, figuring that probably wouldn't be acceptable in a room full of people for a teenage lad, as much as he probably needed it.

"I'm thirsty," he said, his eyes staying on Sean. It didn't sound like him talking, to himself. There was a couple-second delay somewhere. It was kind of confusing. Everything was. He thought belatedly to move his long legs a bit, out of Sean's way, and he caught sight of all that blood still on him in his peripheral vision. Joshua stilled again, and not too far away, somebody's coffee mug fell off the edge of their desk and shattered without being touched. He didn't even look toward the sound. "I tried to stop the bleeding, but ... it made her scream so much," he explained in perfectly reasonable tones.

Sean turned round and grabbed an officer who was walking passed. "Get us some water," he said, not caring whether the guy was busy or not. It was lucky that the officer nodded without complaint at being grabbed and headed off. "There was nothing you could have done, Joshua." He'd have to talk to the police, find out what he could - whether they knew who'd done this, whether there was any danger to Joshua from it. But not now. Not now - now he was just concerned about his charge. The water arrived and Sean passed the paper cup. "Here, drink this, then we'll get you home."

Oh but there was. Something he could've done. If he'd just gotten to her a second or two sooner, if he'd not dropped his phone, if he could've made himself heard quicker than he had ... there were multitudes of things. Had to be. He took the paper cup and lifted it to his lips. The EMTs - once they'd taken her out of his line of sight and he was too exhausted to struggle -- had tried to clean up his hands at least, but there was still red all along the creases in his fingers and under his nails. He drank it down in one long swallow and handed it back, too numb and faraway to be anything but docile and cooperative now.

Sean took the cup and abandoned it on the desk. "Come on, lad - let's get you home," he said, quietly - and then remembered that he hadn't brought the car. Shit. "Hold on - wait up here. I'm gonna go call us a taxi, then I'll be right back," he promised, not wanting to leave Joshua, but seeing no alternative as he hurried away in search of a phone.

He nodded, only really comprehending 'wait' and 'taxi', and returned his thousand-yard stare to the linoleum once Sean was up and away. He was so tired. So fucking tired, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and shut down for a while. Maybe like, a year. And when he woke up, Lullaby wouldn't be dead, she'd be around and smiling at him and this would have all just been a terribly vivid fucking nightmare. Maybe it was the mine again, punishing them for ... something. Or him. He didn't know. The simple fact was, even though he was painted in her blood like the not-so-lucky one in a b-horror movie? She wasn't dead. Couldn't be. He kept being absolutely certain of that for two-minute stretches at a time.

Sean had found a payphone and shouted in a thick Irish brogue down the phone until the company had miraculously found a cab that could pull round and pick them up almost immediately, even though a few minutes beforehand they'd been fully booked. And then he was as nice as pie to the dispatcher, thanking her and blessing her and all sorts before he hung up the phone. "Come on," he said, taking Joshua by the hand and pulling him to his feet. "Taxi's gonna be here any minute, let's get you home. You need to be home."

Joshua came up to his feet easy enough. He swayed for a second, but he was on them and he was staying on them. He didn't let go of Sean's hand once he was up, mind too far elsewhere to give two shits about being a -- mostly -- grown man and being led like he was five. Didn't matter. What really did? He followed through the police station toward the front of the building. As they passed by the reception desk, his TK lashed out of it's own accord, and the computer monitor blew out, sending glass flying into the empty seat and the floor. Joshua dimly heard some bulky man nearby curse and wonder what the fuck, but he couldn't care. He hardly knew it had happened, even.

Sean looked across at Joshua and started walking faster. There were few explanations for what had just happened and, given the trauma, yeah, he could believe that was his charge. So, he'd be getting him out of the police station as fast as possible. And checking the household insurance when he got back. He hoped that September hadn't left behind anything breakable that she was actually attached to.

He silently and obediantly got into the taxi when it arrived, oblivious to any horrified looks he got from the driver, since he looked like a stabbing victim and all. Joshua settled and crossed his arms over his stomach and stared out the window, running on auto-pilot. Sean could've been taking him to the moon. Or the airport, to go straight back to Ireland. He wouldn't have known the difference until they were halfway there, if even then.

Sean gave the taxi driver a glare that threatened much badness if anything was said about the blood. It worked, because they were soon on their way home, sitting in silence as Sean watched Joshua with concern. There was an unreality about this entire situation, Lullaby was dead. He'd only met her the once, but Sean knew that he should be feeling something about that fact. But he couldn't - not right now. Not with Joshua like this.

Home wasn't far as the cab pulled up outside, Sean paying with a handful of screwed up notes, before he got them both out of the cab and into the building. "Do you want a shower?" he asked. "A bath maybe - some clean clothes," he suggested.

Joshua walked with him toward their apartment -- on the first floor by September's design -- and tried to understand what he'd said. He did, really. Then decided in a distant way that blind compliance was easier. "Sure," he said in that same reasonable everything's-fine-and-dandy tone. The sooner he got done going through whatever motions were expected of him, the sooner he could go to bed and wake up from this aching pain in his chest.

Sean would take that as an answer, though he knew it was lacking. He led Joshua to the bathroom and started up the shower, before stepping back. If the guy couldn't undress himself and step under the stream? Then they had a major problem. "I'm going to go get you some clothes, okay? Don't lock the door," he added, slowly retreating.

"Okay," Joshua answered, completely automatically. The part of his brain that did this all the time -- and was desperately trying to keep him moving so that he wouldn't realize what the fuck was really going on -- had him sit down on the closed lid of the toilet and toe his sneakers off. He got as far as one sock removed before everything slowed to a stop. He sat there, staring down at the sock. It had blood on it. She'd bled enough that it got onto his socks. What? Who bled? Nobody bled, Barclay, none of this is happening, some defense mechanism tried to pipe up in a bald-faced denial of reality. His face crumpled and his chest tightened sharply. Joshua let out one harsh sob that echoed in the bathroom before he lost all his air.

Sean had hurried to Joshua's bedroom, flailing about clothes for a moment, before grabbing what the guy had slept in last night from his bed. He heard the sob as he returned to the bathroom and said fuck it to his charge's privacy and walked right it, dumping the clothes by the door as he headed over to put an arm around Joshua's shoulder. "Come on now, let it out - it's okay to have a good cry, y'know," he said, quietly, kneeling on the floor.

Sean was there and available, so Joshua clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. He slid down onto his on knees on the bathroom floor, and a flash of pain flared up his thigh from one of them. He'd fucked it up when he landed with her, he hadn't even remembered. He cried as hard as he could cry, hands fisting up in Sean's shirt, face planted into his shoulder. She's dead. She's dead, you watched her die. She died in your arms and it happened so fucking fast and now she's gone and she's dead and she asked if you were okay, but you're not because she's dead, a mantra started up and wouldn't turn off.

Sean didn't try and say anything - what could you say? It wasn't alright - it clearly wasn't alright. He'd talk about wakes, but another day. Not today - not now. Joshua needed this, to cry it out. Hell, he was still covered in her blood.

It took him a long time to quiet down even a little. In the middle of it, he started to talk in between sobs, disconnected hardly-understandable rambling about how he'd tried to save her, he'd tried so hard and she'd wanted to know if he was okay, and they were going to go to Journey's house and then she was dying all of the sudden. Then he just cried for a little while more, until he'd thoroughly exhausted himself. Again. Maybe it was for the best. His death-grip on the angel loosened some.

"Come on, lad - let's get you in the shower," Sean told him, gently, reaching down to take off his other shoe and sock, then kneeling back up again to strip off Joshua's tshirt. "You can have a shower, and then we can get you to bed," he added, as if he was speaking to a small child. He'd never had to deal with anything like this before - he'd come here expecting to have to protect Joshua from himself. Physical guarding, not counselling the guy through the death of his girlfriend. He could only hope that what he was doing was the right thing.

Joshua was obedient, pliant. Even helped a little, getting the rest of his clothes off. He didn't give a second thought to being nude in front of a guy who'd been around here and there all of his life, but he hardly knew. It didn't matter, it was all the same. Lullaby was still dead. Even though he had the crazy urge to snatch up his phone and try to text her. It was muted, though, far away. He got into the shower, using the wall for support, and stood under the hot water. That was all he could manage for the moment.

Sean didn't leave this time, instead pulling the shower curtain across and quietly sitting down on the toilet seat. He sat there for a moment, before his eyes landed on the bloody heap of clothes and he stood, bundling them up and looking round - in the end, he shoved them in the cupboard under the bathroom sink. He'd come back and rescue them later, he just didn't want them anywhere that Joshua would see. The less blood the boy faced, the better. He wet a cloth and wiped a few streaks off the floor and the side, throwing the cloth in the cupboard as well before he shut the door and sat back down again.

He knew he probably needed to wash off. That was what showers were for, right? Right. He was just so tired. But Sean expected him to be clean, or he wouldn't have put him in the shower. And if he didn't get the lead out, he'd be out of hot water. That part of his mind was working again, the one that knew it was best for him to keep moving, and he slowly started to soap up. The second bout of hysterics of the evening had worn him out and numbed him out again and now all he wanted to do was get done and sleep. Sleep so he could wake up. It took him a while of scrubbing, but he got clean and rinsed and all that happy shit.

Sean stood as he heard the shower stream turn off and grabbed a towel. Towels - how many towels? Just one, stupid, he told himself, putting the other firmly back on the rack and pulling back the shower curtain to hand the remainder to Joshua. "Come on, dry yourself and we'll get you to bed. Do you want anything? A soda, cup of tea?" What was it about tragedy that made tea offers always make an appearance? It must be in the collective conscience.

Joshua shook his head mutely. He took the towel and indeed started to dry off. Because that was the next step in the whole ritual. There was pretty much nothing in his head but a steady buzz and ingrained habit, and that was okay for now. He dried off and changed into the stuff that Sean had brought in and didn't give a single thought to where his other clothes went. He dropped the towel and started to shuffle for the hallway and his bedroom.

Sean followed on behind, not even giving the fallen towel a second glance. He stopped at Joshua's door as they reached it, hovering but not entering, wondering if his charge was just going to go to sleep, or whether he'd actually want to talk at all. He didn't want to second guess, but he had no idea what to expect. So: hovering.

What his charge did was more or less ignore him completely. He had to keep up that single minded focus, had to get into bed and close his eyes, before he could get away from everything. If someone would've posed this situation to him yesterday or the day before, and asked if he could sleep ever again afterwards, he probably would've looked at them like they'd totally lost their shit. But now, that was all he wanted. He walked into his room, sort-of-flopped onto the bed, curled a bit, and shut his eyes.

Sean backed away from the door, but left it open. His back hit the wall at the other side of the corridor and he just slid down to sit on the floor. He'd stay here for a bit - stay here and watch Joshua sleep. Make sure he didn't need anything. And then... He didn't know what. There were things he'd need to do. Rescue the bloody clothes from the bathroom. Call the police and find more about what happened. Other things - there would be other things. He'd think about them while he watched. Maybe they'd come. Maybe.