callmeemily | Joel, locked. Dated to [sometime after the cruise]. TW: mentions of death, trauma, also just sad

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Joel, locked. Dated to [sometime after the cruise]. TW: mentions of death, trauma, also just sad

The cruise had those cheap little pads of paper emblazoned with their logo, and the bottom said come sail with us. Raleigh'd found the pad of paper and a pen, and it'd taken her until the fourth day to actually decide to write the letter. She was sick; the wound in her side had gone bad, and she already was burning up with fever. She'd folded the pages and stuffed them in the pocket of Joel's shirt before she finally let herself take some painkillers, until she spent a majority of her time sleeping, forgetting she'd actually even put the letter there in the first place.

When they landed, when they were in the hospital, the nurse had been helpful. The folded up pieces of paper had somehow fallen on the floor- she'd thought they were trash at first. When she'd scanned the note, thought, it was addressed to Joel, and it was an easy thing to slip them into the pile of clothes that would be going home with him. It looked important, but Joel was sleeping while he was waiting to be released for the day, so she didn't say anything, and just moved on to the next patient.

---

Joel-

I never got the chance to do this, last time. Both last times I guess-- it's weird I managed to come out both those situations alive, and now it's an exploding cruise ship that's the problem, right? Literally stranded on a deserted island?!?!

If you find this before, I'm sorry - i don't want to make it harder for you :( I'm writing it now because I know I'm sick, I know that we're on a tropical island and it's been 4 days and I know what this feels like. I know what's going to happen, and I have to write this before I can't. It's important and you're the only one I can trust with it. I'm trying to make things better. I know if I wrote a letter to spencer, he'd just be more hurt and maybe think i didn't try, and i don't want to disappoint him like that, ok?

I know what's going to happen, and I'm okay with it. I mean, I'd rather it not, but when I die, having it so I'm not alone, so I know that there's people who care about me, that means everything. You and Spencer did that. You gave me this safe space so that I could branch out, make more friends, that I could make connections w people. You've always been so unbelievably kind to me (both of you!) and it changed everything. I'm proud of who I am, and I'm not afraid anymore the way i was, and I need you to know you did that for me, and helped me be better.

Spencer told me you were getting married (!!!!) I'm so happy for you, I'm so totally happy you figured it out. I want you to be happy, to live bright amazing lives w each other, and maybe have a couple of kids. I promise, if there's any sort of anything after this, I'm going to be watching out for you and for them, okay? :))) You're both such strong, loving men that I have no idea how everything lined up so I'm your friend. I found family in you both, I'm one of the luckiest people I know because of it.

There's nothing anybody could have done. I think it's an important thing to remember, ok? This isn't anybody's fault 'cept whoever blew up the ship, and maybe mine. It's okay if you hate me for a while for this, as long as it's not forever :)

There's a couple things that I would appreciate it if you could do for me. I know it's super awkward to write all this down and then ask you for some favors, but if I'm going to ask it might as well be now, right?

- make sure Coop and Fabrice are okay (we're friends, and they tried to help w my side, and I don't want them to feel bad)
- please write my mom. i'm so sorry to leave you with this, can't tell you how much, but just tell her i love her and it's okay. I don't even know if it's the correct address anymore, but Emily Harper, 14 Bluebottle Rd, Clearbrook TN 37885
- remember that I love you and Spencer both. i know it maybe seems like it doesn't matter now, but it does.
- sometime, go somewhere sunny and read the secret garden, ok? :) and think of me, if that's not a super weird thing to want.

that's it. I'm going to start hitting up coop for that vicodin he found, so don't worry, it was okay in the end.

I love you a lot.

Raleigh

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He's doing laundry when he finds the note, the sheets of paper tucked into a sweater he doesn't remember as being his, something he thinks maybe Coop had rescued from the beach and given to him while they'd been stuck on the island. There's a vague memory of protesting at the time, saying he wasn't cold, but in the end he'd taken it anyway, had used it as a pillow when sleep had seemed like the only option to escape the empty, dark hole he felt in his chest, the place where his magic used to be.

As he sits on the bed and sorts through the dirty clothes, he wonders who it belongs to, if the person who used to wear this sweater is still alive, maybe in the hospital, maybe home like he is. Maybe they didn't make it, though, and he frowns faintly, wondering if he should keep it or just get rid of it. It's not the sort of thing he'll ever wear given the choice, but it seems strange to throw away something that he's slept on for five of the worst days of his life, especially if the person who once owned it is no longer here. He's still trying to decide what to do when he feels the paper in the pocket and his frown deepens as he pulls out the note and glances over it curiously.

The last thing he expects to see is his name at the top.

He reads it three times sitting on the bed before he gets up, forgetting his leg, and sits back down on the edge with a curse and a wince. There's only so much his potions can do and he gropes for the cane, knowing he needs to be more careful, but too distracted to really pay attention. Spencer isn't home, he's gone out to... do something, Joel suddenly can't remember. He's not sure where Raleigh is and as he limps out into the hall, he listens, the pages of her note held in one shaking hand.

The house sounds empty, but he goes looking anyway, limping from room to room before he finally sits down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs. He leaves the note on top of the table, no longer sure what to do with it, not even entirely sure what he's feeling. It shouldn't matter because everyone is safe and everyone is alive, but it does matter all the same. He's angry at himself for not having noticed how bad things had gotten, he's angry at her for writing the letter even though he knows that isn't fair. He's angry and he's shaking a little, but all he can do is sit at the table and wait for her to get home.

She has no idea. Honestly, she doesn't even really remember writing it - maybe bits and pieces, but she definitely doesn't remember putting it anywhere he could find it. In the end, things weren't... exactly clear, for her.

When Raleigh gets home from work, she's exhausted. She went back to her regular hours at the bakery as soon as she was released and Coop sealed up her side; she wasn't healed properly, she was still working on rebuilding the blood she lost, but she was healthy enough and she didn't have any sick time left from when she messed up her foot so badly. Hell, she technically didn't have sick time at all.

She's saving, she's saving every penny, and she's decided today that she's going to talk to Joel about when they can look for that place, that she's ready to do it and try, and she wants his help, not just his name. That she'll ask for his help, that she'll be so glad for it. That's why she gets home and comes into the kitchen, yawning as she tries not to move too much where it makes her side hurt, and she drops the bakery box that she normally brings home and her keys, while she shrugs off her backpack. She looks like hell, still - all three of them do, pained and damaged, even though it's getting better. It's healing, all of it.

"Hey," she says, distracted for a minute as she goes through the mail - there's another mess of medical bills she's straight-up ignoring, even though she needs to call the hospital and set up some sort of plan even if it's only fifty dollars a month. After a second, she looks at Joel with a little more attention, the envelopes still in her hands. "How're you doing? Feeling better at all? I brought cookies home today, I don't know if you want one." She hasn't noticed the letter - to her, it's just paper on the table, and there's always paper on the table, unless they're eating or cooking.

Edited 2014-08-14 00:33 (UTC)

She comes into the kitchen like everything is normal and he supposes, to her, things are. He still doesn't know what to think or say or do and he just sits there, listening to her talk, unable to answer her question because he knows whatever he tries to say isn't going to be about how he's feeling or about the cookies, not when her letter is sitting right there, staring him in the face.

He thinks maybe he should address things calmly, ask her why she felt the need to write the letter, but that seems silly. He understands why she felt the need to write it, he thinks if he had been in the same position, if he'd been that worried about infection, about possibly dying, he would have wanted to leave something for Spencer to have after he was gone. So he understands, but he's angry, too.

And when he finally does speak, what he says isn't what he expected at all.

"Why don't you know where your mother lives?"

It's completely out of left field.

Raleigh just freezes, her brows furrowed in confusion, half of the mail just unopened in her hands. She hesitates, and several times, she tries to find the right words. "Uh- Uh, because- Because she moves around a lot, because- Creditors- Why? Why. Why do you want to know?" She doesn't remember writing that, doesn't really remember writing it at all, and so she thinks something happened.

And she can tell, now that she's paying attention, something's wrong.

"What happened?"

He gropes blindly for the letter, his fingers curling over the edge of the paper, crumpling it slightly, then holds it up for Raleigh to see. "It was in the pocket of the sweater they sent home with me. It wasn't even my sweater, you know. Something Coop found on the beach and passed along to me."

It's unnecessary information, but it's the only thing he can think to say because trying to talk about the letter seems too daunting even though he knows he has to. Seeing her handwriting, though, seeing the letter again even for the brief moment he has it in his hand before he has to let it go, it makes his stomach turn because he remembers what it says.

"Jesus, Raleigh," he murmurs, rubbing his hand over his face, his words tired. He's never been good at figuring out his feelings and although Spencer has helped, it's still difficult. He doesn't even understand most of what he's feeling right now, let alone how to put it into words.

Raleigh just sort of stares at him, her eyes flicking to the letter, and the color in her face - of which there wasn't much to start with, she's tired and exhausted as the rest of them, but he says Jesus, and she can't even keep looking at him, her eyes darting away and back, away and then back.

Because now? Now she knows what that is, and even if she doesn't remember exactly what's in it, she knows what it is.

She sits heavily, wincing as it hurts, but she then looks down at her fingers.

"I don't know what to say." She looks back at him, and then she swallows hard. "I- this-" She presses her lips into a thin line, and it's still like that, it's still her not able to look at him for more than a second. She's not sorry. She's not, but it hurts, and she wishes- she wishes he never found it.

Finally, she says something. "I couldn't- I had to do something." The words are quiet, and she's bracing herself, even though she doesn't know what for.

"I know," he says, scrubbing the back of his knuckles against his beard. "I understand why you wrote it, I just..." But just what? He has nothing to follow that and he can only shake his head, his expression hurt and bewildered, and it isn't her fault because he truly does understand. Even now he's been thinking about it. He has a will, he has life insurance, he knows he needs to make adjustments to both of them to reflect his life as it is now. His parents are the beneficiaries of everything he owns and he needs to change it to Spencer and he knows, on top of that, he wants to leave something. Some kind of goodbye.

So he understands, but that doesn't make it hurt any less to read. Especially when she's right here in front of him. Especially when she's so young.

"Reading it is a little... it's a little like being kicked in the gut," he says, though that doesn't even begin to cover it. He can't seem to stop rubbing his face and he knows he's doing it just to cover how upset he is, but he can't do anything else. He doesn't want to take it out on her, not when he really does understand despite how terrible it feels.

Her shoulders hunch, and she pulls into herself. "I'm sorry." It's quiet, the apology - she's still not sorry she wrote it, but she's infinitely sorry that Joel found it; she's not sorry she didn't die, but she's sorry it's hurt him.

"If I waited any longer, I wouldn't have been able to write anymore."

She said it, she finally said it, and she stared down at her fingers. "And I- You're-"

Silence. The silence after that word stretched forever. Her head's bent, and she's crying even though she doesn't want to be, but it's silent, too. Fat tears dripping onto the fingers in her lap, but she barely makes a sound past her indrawn breath, before she wipes at her eyes, looking off to the side.

"I know," he says. "I know."

For a long time, though, he's quiet. The silence stretches out and he knows she's crying and he feels a little like crying himself, but he holds it in. The letter is still sitting there on the table and he doesn't want to take it, but at the same time she's put so much into it, so he folds it up and he lays his hand on it. He'll decide what to do with it later. He doesn't want Spencer to read it, not because Joel thinks he's any better equipped to handle it, but Spencer has already been through so much loss. He doesn't want him to have to think of any more.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, reaching over to touch her shoulder. He doesn't want her to think he's angry, though he is in a way. It's so hard to explain, it's a directionless anger, one he thinks it born of his fear of losing people, of what comes when he lets them in. An anger directed at whoever or whatever caused the ship to explode, an anger directed at the fact that they were left there for five days, that they'd all been in danger, that he'd had to think about losing the people he's come to care about.

It's not her fault. It's not his either. It's just there and it will fade with time.

She finally looks at him, and her chin wobbles. "I- I don't know why, but you're the only one-" Her breath caught, and she shook her head slightly. "It was important, and I'm sorry- I'm sorry you found it now, if--"

Pausing, because it's oddly difficult, she had to gather herself so she could continue. "Everybody kept saying that I would be fine, that everything was fine, but- I know. I know what- I know what it feels like, and when it was- if they hadn't come-"

She has to pause, to find words where there are none.

"I'm sorry I... put that... on you." It's all she can think to say, even though she's not, but she is. "I didn't know what else to do," she says quietly. She just... didn't. She still doesn't. Her words make no sense because she doesn't know what to say. I would have died. She would have, but she didn't. Again, she didn't. But she so, so would have, and that's why she wrote it.

"No, Raleigh, it's... you understand that things like that are necessary," he says. "Everyone does. It's logical and it makes sense and I can usually be logical when it comes to the sorts of things most people don't want to discuss." He's always been able to detach and look at things from a distance, but he's also never had anyone in his life like Spencer and Raleigh until now. Cosette and Lara had gotten closer to him than anyone had in ten years, but he knows he wasn't the person closest to them, even if they'd been the ones closest to him. If something had happened to them, there are others who would deal with these sorts of things and he would be left to grieve for his friends.

When people are family, it's different. He's become responsible suddenly, for making sure things work out properly. If something were to happen to Raleigh or Spencer, there would be no quietly grieving alone in his bookstore. There would be things to do, responsibilities, work he'd have to get done and so he understands the necessity. But it still feels terrible.

"But when it comes to you, when it comes to Spencer... logic isn't easy to come by," he says. "It's not the same anymore, that's all. I think you should take the letter, though. I think... if you want, I can help you go through legal channels to make sure something like that is done properly in case anything does happen to you. I need to revise my own will and life insurance policies soon anyway, I can help you." But he doesn't want to have that letter anymore. It just hurts too much.

She watches him as he speaks, as he lines it out and she understands. She understands, but she still gets smaller and smaller, because--

Because it sits a little wrong, somehow. She takes the letter, reaching forward to take it from his hand, and the papers crackle in her fingers. She exhales slowly, and she finally finds what she needs to say.

"Do you understand why I wrote it to you?"

The question is infinitely quiet; it's barely audible, and she looks so tired as she asks it. She looks exhausted, and she runs her hand down her face, swallowing thickly.

He'd thought it was because she trusted him to be the most responsible, the one who could deal with it. He doesn't think Spencer is weak, not by any means, Joel actually thinks he's by far the strongest person he's ever met, but he'd also lost his family in a horrific manner. He had assumed Raleigh, having known that, would have wanted to spare him the stress of having to take responsibility again.

But maybe he's wrong. Frowning, he looks at her and then shakes his head, not because he doesn't have his own ideas, but because he wants to hear what she says. He wants to know her reasoning.

He thinks she wants him to know, too. If she didn't, he doubts she'd be asking at all.

She shifts in the chair, her heel balanced on the seat of it as she wraps her hands around her ankle, leaning her chin on her knee. She doesn't think about it, that it's an incredibly defensive posture, but it's so hard to think about, what she's saying.

"You just let me rest with you," she says after a long second. "Talk about the place I was going to get, and you just let me... stay." She swallowed hard. "Everyone else- almost everyone else, they talked to me like I was giving up, like I was just being- like it was me. That I wasn't trying hard enough?" Her fingers tightened on her leg, and she looked away.

"I wasn't- it's not that I didn't try. I knew what was happening, because I've felt it. Because I know what it's like, I know how it starts, and how it feels, and it wasn't that I wasn't trying, it's-- if you lie, if you lie to yourself, then those things? The things I wrote, those never get said and all you can feel at the end is the things you didn't do."

She clears her throat, and if she wasn't holding her leg, her hands would have been shaking.

"I thought that they'd be disappointed in me. That they'd blame me, forever." Her voice is so faint as she says it. "That I didn't try hard enough. But- It wasn't like that with you, or with Spencer, but Spencer--" She shook her head slightly. "I couldn't do that to him. He's just starting to get better."

"I trust you, and- and I didn't think you'd-" She finally stops, because she can't say anything else.

Edited 2014-08-15 19:24 (UTC)

He can understand that in a way, even though there's a little part of him that's angry for the same irrational reason. The thought that Raleigh had stopped trying, that the letter was written because she'd given up had certainly occurred to him and he isn't going to say as much, not when she's clearly upset that other people had said it to her. And what she's saying makes sense, too. The idea that infection is a battle that can simply be won by fighting harder is completely absurd.

And he wants her to be able to trust him. He doesn't want that to change, so he nods that he understands and scrubs his hand over his face again.

"It's just a scary thing to read," he says, then pushes himself up from his chair. "Come on. Let's go sit outside and I'll eat all your cookies."

"It was a scary thing to write."

She says it quietly, and she pauses, before she gets up. "You were only supposed- it was only supposed to be if- I did it in case, not... not because I thought it was going to happen one-hundred percent." She feels so tired, and she stands up, and her chin wobbles again as she tightly closes her eyes and swallows once. "Thank you."

Exhaling in a rush, she forces a small smile, because she's a little scared. She's scared that things aren't okay between them anymore, but she leans to snag the box of cookies, and the letter's been shoved into her pocket and she's pretty much planning on burning it the first chance she's got.

"I know," he says, then reaches one hand out toward her, touching her shoulder first before he shifts on the cane and tries to draw her toward him. "It's okay. Come here." He still wishes she'd said something, that he'd known, that he'd been more aware and had been able to tell that she wasn't well, but he can't change the past. Joel regrets a lot of things, but he's doing his best to let them go, to look toward the future he has now; with Spencer, with Raleigh, with Charlotte coming back to Siren Cove.

It isn't always easy, but he's trying.

He hooks his arm around her shoulders, drawing her toward him for a hug. "It's okay," he says again. "I understand." And he feels a little better now, too, having talked to her about it. It's not just a punch in the gut anymore, not seeing her face and hearing her talk about it, not knowing now all the reasons she'd written it and why she'd written it to him. It still hurts, but it's a hurt he can handle.

She lets him pull her close, the cookies back on the table, and she presses her face to his chest because she just- she can't not cry. She cries because she wishes that this was different, that she'd never been in that situation, that it's facing the fact that she knew what it was like - but she's not upset that she wrote it even now. "I'm sorry you found it." That was the issue. He wasn't supposed to find it unless it got so much worse, but she knew that if she hadn't gotten off that island... she knew what was coming.

But this upset... this upset is so much different then before.

It's so much different because it's coming to terms with what happened, with their relationship, with the best way to handle this; it's not fear because she had no one, because she had no control, no idea what would happen. Both times, before, she didn't know if she'd ever be found. There was no chance to, as Spencer put it, say goodbye; not to her mother, her brother, her friends here - none of it.

This time, she'd had that chance, and there's the bright hurt of having to face it, that she'd nearly stared death in the face yet again, but she'd come to it as an equal instead of a victim, and it changes everything. Everything. "Can we just go sit? And cookies, and stuff?" Pulling in a deep breath, Raleigh looks up at him. She's all red and gross from crying, but it's important to her that they get past it, that things are okay again.

"It's okay," he says softly, stroking his hand over her hair. He hadn't meant to upset her, but he'd been upset himself. He'd been scared and uncertain of what it even meant and he's glad he hadn't just put it away and refused to talk about it. That's what he normally would have done, he'd have buried it and tried to forget about it, but the more time he spends with Spencer, the more he realizes things aren't always so easily forgotten. And he doesn't want anything disrupting this friendship.

"We can go sit," he says with a nod, pulling back a little to look at her. "Though, I have to warn you, if you let me start on the cookies, there'll be no stopping me."

It's not the first time he's threatened as much and it likely won't be the last. What he knows, what he's grateful for is that they understand each other a little bit better now. It might not have been the best way for such a thing to happen, the thought of the letter still upsets him, but they've talked and for someone who truly isn't very good at talking most of the time, it feels like a bit of a victory.

It's a thing, maybe, what they do. That they go and sit on Spencer's porch, and Raleigh's curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder with the box of cookies in his lap.

She's just there to be there, the same way that they were when they'd been on the island, when she'd talked about the bakery she's wanted to open. She says something about it now, her voice low and rough from crying.

"I want to find that space for the bakery - soon. I'm- I'm just done, working for a place that treats me like crap." She paused. "I really- I really would like your help." She doesn't ask for help, much. It was really difficult for her, because she felt like it was hard to tell if people really did want to help, but... as far as she could tell, Joel did. "If you're not busy? We could maybe look for places the next day you have off?"

"Any time," he says and he's genuinely pleased to hear her talking about it again. It isn't that he thought she'd give up on it, but he knows how hard it is to come back from things sometimes. That the time on the island had been hard on everyone, but perhaps harder on Raleigh than most, and Joel knows it isn't always easy to go right back into a regular life when something like that happens. He'd tried after the lighthouse, he'd tried to have his store open, to be normal and okay, but in the end he'd gotten drunk while sitting on the couch, sad that he wasn't with Spencer.

If she's talking about it, though, he's going to take that as a good sign and he stuffs half a cookie in his mouth, nodding the entire time.

"I can close the store for an afternoon, maybe when my leg is a little better. We can walk and check out some places. There are some nice ones near the boardwalk with... like you said, there are big windows. They'd get lots of sun." Siren Cove is a tourist town and there are businesses that just can't make it. He hates seeing their places near the boardwalk empty. "The rent is cheaper there than it is right on the boardwalk, so you're getting location and value. Things further away from the tourist areas will be less expensive, but you won't get the same foot traffic."

She's actually got a different sort of problem, which is why she's talking about the bakery. She doesn't want to go back to work. She doesn't want to go back to the place that takes advantage of her, that leaves her with no hope for getting ahead because she's trapped. She can't stay there, she just can't, and that's why she's got to move forward.

So it's the bakery. Her bakery, somehow, even though that thought is terrifying. "If it's close to Crossroads, I'm happy." She doesn't even hesitate before making the pronouncement. She wants this to be close to him, because of a lot of reasons - the biggest one being that they're family, that he's helping her so much, and she just-- she wants to be near him. She already knows that there's things they can do to help each other, if they're both running businesses, and it's such a weird thought.

"I sort of can't believe I'm actually- I mean. It's going to be a thing. A place, that's mine." And she couldn't have done it without him, she knows it.

"It will," Joel says, finishing his cookie. "It's... it's not easy. Running a business." He thinks she knows that, he thinks she knows just how much work is really involved, that she's not going into it blind, but even with a good idea of what it takes, he thinks there's always a learning curve. There are always surprises. She'll figure it out as she goes and he's here to answer any questions she has, of course, and she's smart enough to work around problems when they come up.

"But when you get it figured out, it'll feel even better because you're the one who's done it," he continues. "I haven't... I don't try very hard with the store sometimes. Not as hard as I should try, but I've been changing things lately. I'm hoping to buy the property outright in the next few months once I have the down payment I need, but even after eight years running the store on my own, it's still sometimes a surprise."

"I'm a little... okay, I'm a lot scared," she admits quietly as she nibbles on a cookie. Caramel vanilla creme, today. "I mean, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Or like, I mean, I don't know how to run a business. It's just me, you know? So do I like... I don't know, do I just randomly close? Do I still have to go in at three? I don't know." She huffs out a breath.

"It's complicated and scary, but like. Even with buying all the ingrediants and paying rent and insurance and everything, I'm still making way less than I should, and I'm- I mean, it's so not worth me working myself to death at Seaside, you know?"

"It is scary," he agrees, because he remembers how scared he'd been when his father had left the store to him and that had been with months of preparation, his father helping him every step of the way. "But if this is something you want, if Seaside isn't just something to do until you find what you really want to do, then you should do it."

At her questions, though, he shrugs. "There's a lot to consider. I set my own hours and I keep them... well, fairly regularly. I'm the only employee, so I can't have it open ten hours a day every day of the week and it's worked for me so far, but you'll have to consider other things. Will Seaside be a lot of competition? Maybe you should consider opening hours that aren't like theirs. No one can ever get fresh baking in the evening on their way home from work because it's always all gone by mid-morning. Maybe that's your market, I don't know. But the nice thing is that owning your own place means you can find out. If you try certain hours and they don't seem to work, you can change it."

"They were buying their donuts from a factory before I started, i think the main issue is going to be people's habits," she said after a second. "But I'll work on making things really, really good, and hopefully that'll just sort of kick them to the curb?"

She paused. "... I don't even know what it would be like to just like... work normal hours. Well, sort of normal hours, I'd still have really long days, unless I make enough to actually hire somebody."

Which was weird and crazy all on it's own. Hiring someone.

"Holy cow, this is really happening." She took another bite of cookie, just because she needed something to distract her, to be honest. It was a little overwhelming.

Joel knows it's different for him, he doesn't have to be in his store hours before opening just to prepare things. He can order inventory from his bed if he wants, his laptop open on his knees while Spencer reads or sleeps beside him. He used to spend much more time in the store after hours, going through inventory and making decisions, but he's about halfway through having everything recorded in spreadsheets on his laptop and it makes working from home a lot easier.

Raleigh won't have that luxury. What she's taking on is a lot bigger than what Joel does and he knows his advice will only go so far.

"Have you met Lara?" he asks. "Levi's girlfriend?" He knows she knows Levi, but he doesn't know if she's ever met Lara. "She's... brilliant. Where I can't help you, she'd be a great person to ask."

Raleigh just sort of... balks, for the first time. "Maybe," she says after a long second, and he can feel that she's tense, because she hasn't pulled away rom him, but....

She has met Lara.

She's met Lara when she's been courting a breakdown, and Lara oh so helpfully told her that the guy - the guy who helped, he just... he was a Siren, and for some reason, Raleigh just couldn't handle it. Not then.

"We can just... hang out, for now. Cookies. We'll cross all those things when we get there, okay?"

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Joel, locked. Dated to [sometime after the cruise]. TW: mentions of death, trauma, also just sad

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