#severed threads

“I’ve caught him having panic attacks several times in the mornings.” Paul sighs. “He always straightens up and puts on a smile when he hears me coming. But he’s … shaking and I can hear him talking to himself, trying to calm himself down.” Paul stuffs his hands in his pocket and leans against the door. “And that thing he does with his left arm, when that chronic pain flares? He’s doing it again.”

Aisha winces. “Shit. That’s not great.”

Ian was diagnosed a few years ago with fibromyalgia. It often flares up if Ian is stressed, sleep-deprived, or extremely upset. If he’s been tucking his arm stiffly against his side, that means he’s struggling again.

Paul nods. “Yeah, he’s not doing so hot. But I can’t get him to crack. He just smiles and tells me he’s fine.”

Aisha huffs. “That’s the same response I’m getting. Just a grin and a don’t worry about me.” Aisha purses her lips. “It’s that damn couple he’s been with, the McCartneys. He’s been getting worse ever since he moved in with them.”

Paul tilts his head, considering. “You know, I think you’re right. That is when it first started.”

“I was so happy for him when he got together with them. They seemed like just the right fit for him.” Aisha shakes her head sadly. “He’s been so lonely since he cut ties with his family, and I was hoping these two would be healthy for him.” Aisha snorts. “Fucking unicorn hunters.”

Paul raises an eyebrow. “Unicorn hunters?”

“Oh, sorry.” Aisha laughs softly. “It’s a term in the poly community for a couple looking for a third. It’s usually a male-female couple looking for a woman to join them for funsies, but occasionally you’ll find some looking for a man.” Aisha rolls her eyes. “It’s rarely a true ethical non-monogamous situation, because the unicorn isn’t really allowed to date outside of the throuple, while the other partners can usually do what they want.”

Paul looks vaguely ill. “You think they trapped Ian?”

Aisha nods. “I really do. Ian’s been withdrawing from John and I, and you. First it was just that they wanted to spend time with him, but now …”

“Now he’s working overtime any chance he can get,” Paul fills in. He shakes his head. “I’ve noticed. It makes me wonder how much they’re asking him to contribute to stay in that house of theirs.”

Aisha snorts. “It’s … not a great house.”

“Really? It looks great from the outside, I’ve seen pictures Ian’s shown me.”

“Yeah.” Aisha huffs. “They’ve done a ton of cosmetic work on the interior, so the rooms even look great. But half the plumbing doesn’t work, kitchen cabinets are falling off the walls, and the structure? The structural integrity of that house is not good.”

Paul lets out a long sigh. “Shit.”

“You can say that again.” Aisha frowns up at Paul. “My guess is they’re making him pay more than he should be, with all the overtime he’s clocking.”

“He’s apologizing again too, like he did when you two were in the Academy.”

Aisha winces. “Yeah, I noticed that. He’s doing it with you too?”

Paul nods, and Aisha sighs.

Apologizing for every opinion or thought that came out of Ian’s mouth had always been a habit — Aisha blamed his religious upbringing — but since the McCartney’s, Ian was always apologizing. His inherent lack of confidence in his personal life was worse. He cut himself down more often, and his negative self-talk was worse than Aisha had seen it in the five years she had known Ian.

“I blame Abby for that,” Aisha says. “I met her once. She clearly thought I was a threat. She was such a snob.” Aisha snorts. “And Dennis? Jesus, Dennis couldn’t keep his hands off Ian. It was so uncomfortable to watch. Hell, I even caught Ian swatting at Dennis once or twice to get him away from Ian. It was weird.”

Paul makes a disgusted face. “Yeah, they came here once to see Ian. I met them in the hall. Dennis followed Abby around like a lost puppy. I think the only thing other than Abby that he cares about is Ian. And … I mean … well …”

“No I get you,” Aisha nods. “The only thing Dennis cares about is Ian’s dick.”

Paul sputters and turns a faint shade of red.

Aisha raises an eyebrow. “You know I’m right.”

Paul clears his throat awkwardly and nods. “No, I … I know.”

Aisha smirks at him. “I’ll try to be less blunt next time.”

“No, it’s alright.” Paul laughs quietly. “I’m just … I don’t … I don’t think about Ian in that way ever, so it’s weird to hear.” He frowns. “It’s so weird to hear anyone think about Ian … like that. He’s so private about everything …”

“Related to sex?” Aisha smirks again as Paul rolls his eyes at her bluntness. “Yeah. He’s not comfortable with the topic, and frankly, I don’t know how comfortable he is with Abby and Dennis’s attention.” Aisha sighs. “Well, I guess we both agree, then. Something’s going on with Ian, and it’s not great.”

Paul nods. “Plan?”

Aisha shrugs. “I’m going to keep badgering him until he agrees to come over and have dinner with me and John, but I have no idea how long that will take.”

“I can get on his case about having dinner with Shannon and I. Maybe he’ll agree to at least one of us to get us off of his back.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Aisha says with a smile.

The two of them part ways, Paul returning to his office and Aisha focusing back on her monitors. They play out their plan for nearly another entire week before Ian breaks, agreeing to spend Friday night with Aisha and John. Aisha lets Paul know, but they both agree that Paul shouldn’t come. Ian can clam up when he feels trapped, and they want him to feel comfortable enough to open up about whatever is bothering him.

Aisha sets a time with Ian, lets John know, and then commences to plot out the best way to get Ian to talk.

In the end, her plans don’t really matter. Ian’s body takes matters into its own hands.

Ian looks pale and unwell from the moment he sets foot in the bullpen that Friday morning. Both Aisha and Paul notice it, and furtively text each other about the circles under his eyes and his stiff posture. He perks up the moment he catches Paul watching him, pasting on a fake smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and choking out an off-kilter greeting. Paul asks how he is, as he always does, but today, Ian just shrugs and says hanging in there.

He didn’t even try to fake it, Paul texts Aisha.

Alarm bells go off in Aisha’s head. If Ian isn’t even bothering to fake a chipper doing great, then he must really be hurting, physically or mentally — or both. Aisha keeps a close eye on Ian from her lair through the one window that opens to the bullpen. She notes how slow he moves, and how tired he looks when he thinks no one is watching. Aisha wonders how his conversation with Abby and Dennis went when he told them he was having dinner with Aisha and John. She assumes it went poorly.

Somehow they make it to the end of the day with no crisis requiring either Ian or John — who is a Philadelphia EMT — to skip dinner, and at promptly six, Ian knocks on the door to Aisha and John’s apartment. John lets him in, as Aisha is finishing putting the chicken in the oven.

“Hey, Ian! Long time no see!” Aisha hears John greet Ian.

Ian’s response is a low murmur, which makes Aisha anxious. He used to be full of life, especially around John. She had tracked for a while how animated Ian would get around John, always ready to regale him with some story or another, and always willing to listen to whatever John had to say in response. If even John can’t bring Ian out of his shell … well, they may just have to stage an actual intervention.

Aisha joins Ian and John in their living room once the chicken is in the oven. They engage in small talk for a while, just chitchatting about jobs and hobbies. Aisha can see Ian giving a valiant effort to brighten up — tiny smiles, a curious glint in his eyes, and the occasional encouraging head nod, but he’s hardly like himself at all. John catches it too, glancing at Aisha out of the corner of his eye every now and then. Something is wrong, even more so than usual.

It’s not until John stands to grab them all drinks that everything comes to a head. Ian abruptly stands as well.

“I’ll … I can help,” he says softly, but earnestly. There’s a small smile toying at his lips, and Aisha notes the way John lights up at Ian’s offer.

John motions for Ian to follow. Ian takes two steps, then comes to a hesitant stop.

“I’m … sorry. I think … I think I should s-sit down?” Ian glances down at Aisha, confusion in his face.

Then his eyes close, his knees buckle, and he collapses onto their carpet.

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“You good?” Aisha asks, pulling back slightly to look into Ian’s hazel eyes. She gently lays a hand along Ian’s cheek. “You went somewhere else for a minute.”

Ian takes a deep breath, shaking himself out of his morose thoughts. He’s here to celebrate, not complain. “Yeah, no, just tired.” He grins. “I did it, Aisha! I made SSA and I got into Paul’s crisis unit!”

Aisha squeals, jumping back and clapping her hands. “You get to work with Paul? Oh my God, Ian, that’s amazing!”

Ian nods. He plops down into the spare chair and looks up at Aisha. “I guess he put in a good word for me. He’s known me since the Academy, you know, those first few lectures we got on crisis negotiation from him.”

Aisha circles her desk and sits back down into her chair. She smiles at him, a clear encouragement to continue.

God does it feel good to have someone want to listen to him. Lately, Abby’s the one doing the talking, leaving Dennis hanging on every word and Ian feeling ignored. Aisha watches him with the same wide, curious expression he’s known her to have, all the way back to their days in the Academy. She’s never wavered in her interest in what he has to say, and that’s something he truly values in her friendship.

Ian rattles off the whole finding out process — how the SSA in charge of his progress tracked him down to tell him he’d made Supervisory Special Agent, and would be moving to Crisis Negotiation, due to his stellar performance in talking down the many volatile people he had encountered in his five years in the FBI. When his SSA mentioned Paul’s unit, it had taken everything in Ian’s power not to start cheering.

Paul was one of Ian’s lecturers on crisis and hostage negotiation when Ian started in the Academy, a twenty-three year old with a criminal justice bachelor’s under his belt and a whole lot of confidence. Perpetually curious — and apparently intelligent, according to his supervisors and teachers — Ian had attracted Paul’s attention with his questions and capabilities. Paul essentially took Ian under his wing. Over the years, Ian and Paul became close, first as mentor/mentee and then as friends. For a while there, Ian was spending evenings with Paul Moss, his wife Shannon, and their two children at least once a week. He hasn’t been there in several weeks now. Abby and Dennis have been taking up most of his time.

Aisha listens to Ian’s story with rapt attention. She gives him the attention he’s been craving, and he finds himself leaning closer just to feel the curiosity radiating off of her. When he’s done, she grins at him.

“I’m so happy for you, Ian! You one hundred percent deserve this.”

Ian shrugs. “I don’t know about that.”

Aisha purses her lips. “Well, I do. You’re smart, Ian, and you are really good at what you do, from the investigative side to the talking people down from the wall side.” She sighs. “You need to believe in yourself.”

Ian feels himself deflate at that. It’s an age old argument of sorts between them. Both Aisha and Paul — his closest friends at this point — see something in Ian that Ian himself can’t see. Ian always brushes them both off when it comes up, but it plagues him late at night when he can’t sleep. He knows he struggles with his self-worth, but he was raised to believe that pride was sinful. Since childhood, Ian has had a hard time believing in himself or appreciating his own accomplishments.

Ian sighs. “I try, I really do. It’s just that it feels so prideful to be …”

“Proud?” Aisha fills in. She frowns. “I know. It’s … it’s your religious trauma again, huh?”

Ian snorts. “Yeah, I guess. I still feel weird calling it that. It doesn’t feel like anything was that traumatizing.”

“It’s still something you’re dealing with, even if we call it trauma lite.” Aisha shakes her head. “And Abby does not help with any of this.”

Ian glances away from Aisha. He knows she doesn’t approve of Abby. He’s starting to wonder if she’s right, but he’s in no way ready to face that possibility. Abby and Dennis McCartney have filled a hole in Ian’s life, and he’s too afraid to find out what living without them looks like. It’s only been eight months, really, but he’s gotten used to them there.

“She does her best,” Ian mutters, knowing it’s a weak defense.

Aisha raises her eyebrows. “Really,” she says in a flat voice. “So all that shit you said yesterday about how she doesn’t give a fuck about your promotion was a lie? Or is that her doing her best?”

Ian can’t help a small smile at that. Aisha is never afraid to call him out on his bullshit, and for that he’s grateful. “No, that was the truth. She cares about the raise, but … doesn’t really want to listen to me talking about the CNU.” He sighs. “But she’s tired after work, and honestly —”

“I do not care what her excuses are,” Aisha interrupts. “She doesn’t value you like she should and it drives me nuts.”

Ian smiles at the care in Aisha’s voice. “She does, Aisha. Just … not in ways you can see.”

Aisha narrows her eyes. “So like, in the bedroom? Where you don’t want to be half the time anyhow?”

Ian winces. That much is true. Abby is appreciative behind closed doors, but not in ways that Ian always wants. It’s not that he minds that aspect of their relationship, he enjoys the time well enough. It’s just that … sometimes he truly doesn’t want … sex. But Abby or Dennis always seems to get him to give in. Sometimes, Ian wishes he had the guts to look that fact in the face and figure out what to do about it. But he never does. The McCartney’s treat him well, he lives with them, they certainly aren’t physically abusive — it’s fine.

“Ian?” Aisha prods him. “I’m sorry, that was a bit much.”

Ian gives Aisha a wry smile. “No, you’re not wrong. I just … I don’t know what to do, sometimes.” He slouches down in his seat. “I can’t up and leave, it’s not like things are bad. I do wish they would listen to me more often.”

Aisha snorts and rolls her eyes. “Like that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

Ian sighs. He knows damn well what Aisha thinks of his polyamorous relationship with Abby and Dennis — she very vehemently disapproves. Not because of the polyamory — she and her husband John have been in an ethical non-monogamous relationship since … hell, before they were married. It’s that she firmly believes that the McCartney’s are not ethically non-monogamous.

She has her concerns, and Ian respects that, but generally disagrees. Sure, sometimes he feels a bit like an awkward third wheel, especially when one or the other is complaining about the other to him — which is often. Or when the two of them actively bicker in front of him, then demanding that he choose a side. But that’s … well, it’s not all the time, so it’s fine. They always make it up to him. It’s fine.

“I’m fine, Aisha. They’re not abusing me. I’m fine.”

Aisha gives him a thoroughly unamused look. “That is not the bar you want to be judging a relationship from.” She huffs. “But, I’m not going to hound you about them. You got promoted today, to the job you’ve wanted since, what, the beginning?”

Ian nods.

“Right. So, instead, why don’t you come out with John and I tonight? We could celebrate, hang out, like old times.”

The before Abby and Dennis is unspoken. Ian winces. He knows he’s slacked off on his duties as a friend since moving in with the McCartney’s. It’s just hard to find time to hang out with Aisha and John, or Paul and Shannon, when Abby is as possessive and jealous of Ian’s time as she is. That bit he does kind of hate. It’s stifling sometimes, especially when he misses the time he used to spend with his friends. The rare times he gets to hang out with them, it’s like a breath of fresh air — Aisha and John are always so interested in what he has to say, and Paul and Shannon always make sure he’s had enough to eat. Abby prefers that he doesn’t eat too much, because apparently she likes him as thin as fucking possible.

That’s an uncharitable thought, Ian hears his mother admonish him, but it’s true.

“Ian. You keep zoning out. You sure you’re okay?” Aisha asks.

Ian sighs. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just tired. Um … I can’t tonight.” He grimaces. “I … uh, Abby doesn’t like it when I change plans like that.”

Aisha narrows her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Um, maybe tomorrow or Friday? I’ll see if I can get Abby to agree.”

Aisha opens her mouth, as if to say something, but then closes it with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Alright. Just … see if you can. John would love to see you, and we haven’t hung out in a while.”

Ian nods. “I’ll see what I can do. I promise. I’d love to hang out, really.”

Aisha nods. “I know. I know you do. I … oh, never mind. Just … ask.”

“I will.” Ian wants to say more, but he gets the sense that doing so might dig him into an even deeper hole with Aisha. Instead, he checks his phone for the time. “Shit, I do need to get back to my desk.” He smiles at Aisha. “Thanks for talking.”

Aisha nods emphatically, her dark, natural curls bobbing around her. “Anytime, Ian.” She stares him down. “I mean that. Anytime, about anything.”

Ian knows she means Abby and Dennis. “I know. Thanks.” He turns around taking the few steps to the door. “I’ll talk to you later.” He waves, steps through the door, and then heads back to his desk.

---

Aisha watches as Ian closes the door. She sighs softly once he’s gone and grabs her phone, pulling up Paul Moss’s number.

I’m worried about Ian, she types. He’s so not like himself these days. Congrats on snagging him for your team, though!

She hits send, and drops her phone into her lap. Paul’s likely busy, but he’ll get back to her when he can. The two of them have been commiserating about how much Ian has changed since he moved in with the McCartney’s. He’s almost entirely stopped hanging out with either of them, he’s lost the spring in his step, and he seems to be struggling with his self-worth more than ever. Sure, in the line of duty, he’s got the confidence of a senior agent. He’s not cocky, but calm and sure of his footing. But when it comes to things like this promotion, or his own well being, he’s so hesitant anymore.

Aisha knows Ian’s upbringing formed a lot of these bad habits — his highly conservative Christian parents left him with lots of religious trauma issues, from pride is a sin to sex is a sin. That last one really messed up Ian, whom Aisha is certain is on the asexual spectrum.

Aisha shakes her head. She’s had her own amount of religious trauma to battle through, between her transition to her non-monogamous life style, she’s pretty sure she’s broken more rules and trends than Ian has ever dreamed of. Still, his journey is his own, and she most certainly won’t belittle him or make this some sort of battle of who-had-it-worse. She just wants to help, and she is certain that Abby and Dennis are doing more harm than good.

Getting Ian to see that, though? It’s going to take some work.

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Something hopeful from Finding Home

Finally, she (Delle) laughs softly. “We’re a pair then, aren’t we?”

Liam frowns. “You would put us on the same plane?”

Delle raises an eyebrow, bits of her armor starting to come back. “You wouldn’t?”

“I did something stupid,” Liam scoffs. “You … you lost … well, I mean …” he trails off, uncertain of what to say next.

“I lost the ability to trust,” Delle says. “But neither of us, we didn’t agree to the experiences that scarred us. We both carry shame and trauma around our necks like an albatross. We both have monsters that follow us, jump out of the shadows and flit through our dreams. Or did you leave that hospital with no nightmares?”

Liam’s lip twitches. He still has nightmares – of dying; of the others there with him, angry and hostile and unfriendly; of Gwen’s hard hand when he had misbehaved – that’s a secret he’s not yet ready to share.

“Just because my pain is different, affected me in different ways, doesn’t make yours any less.” Delle squeezes Liam’s wrist lightly. “I made peace with my monsters, Liam. I accepted that they changed me, that they’ll never really go away.” They tilt their head to the side. “You need to make peace with yours.”

Part of Liam is convinced he never should have started this conversation in the first place. He never admitted to the monsters he keeps locked inside, trapped by iced coffee, bluegrass, and his own reticence. If anyone alludes to them, he shuts them out, slamming literal and figurative doors on their pity. But there’s something in Delle that seems to push back against his doors, force them open. And there’s something in their presence that makes him less certain that he wants to shut them out. So instead of shoving his chair back and running, he just whispers: how?

“Don’t pretend they aren’t there, that’s always a good start.” Delle smiles at him – it’s a new smile, full of sadness, understanding, compassion. “They don’t drown well. They tend to come back stronger for being ignored."

He laughs at that, probably the first time he’s laughed in ages. “I have noticed that.”

Delle laughs with him, and it feels good to join with someone in something so simple.

---

RANDOM from Severed Threads

Paul thinks that says enough about Ian’s relationship with the McCartney’s, but he chooses not to push Ian too hard right now.

“Alright. Where are you going tonight, then?” Ian looks utterly confused. “I don’t … know?” “What was your plan before you fainted on Sara and John?” Ian shrugs. “My car, I guess.” “Ian! You … you could have called me, you know. Before. When Abby kicked you out. Me, or Sara. We … either of us would have put you up, no fuss.” Paul sighs. “Alright, fine. You get to pick, who do you want to put up with, me and Shannon and the kids, or Sara and John?” Ian opens his mouth, and Paul interrupts him. “Neither is not an option.” Ian considers. “I love your kids but … I don’t want them to see me like this.” Paul nods. “Alright, Sara and John it is.” “What — I can’t impose. They might not — want me?” Paul shakes his head. “Sara and I talked when she called me. She’s more than willing to take you in for a night at least.” Paul purses his lips. “Listen, Ian. Think about what we talked about, please? Stay with Sara and John as long as you need. Just … think about it.” “I will,” Ian says softly. “I promise.”

Finding Home (Standalone) [third chapter in, have a necrophobic homicide detective]

“Ah. Sawbones is here. Miss Sawbones, I suppose.” 

Liam whips around as he hears the uniformed man’s derisive tone, wincing as he realizes what the man meant. Doctor Eckels. This is the first time he has dealt with her personally on a call. He pulls himself to his full height and spins on the uniformed officer. Liam had promised Conor, after all.

“That’s Doctor Eckels to you,” he growls. 

Liam tries to hide his own displeasure at the sight of the pathologist as he turns away from the gaping uniformed officer beside him. Giving her a chance to prove herself was one thing, but he had been hoping for the familiarity of Conor for this corpse. Trying to explain his involuntary aversion to gore isn’t something he is very practiced at; most explanations followed either intense teasing or unconsciousness. Connor watches her warily as she is directed his way by the uniformed officer at the road. Impeccably dressed, as usual, in black scrub pants and paisley yellow scrub top and sporting her classic french twist accessorized with a pen. 

“Detective Turner, you’ve picked a good day for a murder. Not too rainy, not too hot.” Doctor Eckles inclines her head in the direction of the corpse. “Shall we?” 

“Doctor, I might warn you, it’s not the prettiest…” Liam trails off as fire flares unexpectedly in Doctor Eckles’ eyes. He realizes too late that his personal reluctance has been mistaken as an insult to her abilities.

“I assure you, Detective , I have seen far worse. This is decidedly not my first corpus.” She eyes him critically for a moment, before a touch of amusement flashes in her eyes “Besides, ‘why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which cannot exist when I do?’”

By the time Liam recovers from having Epicurus used against him, the doctor is already at the door of the shed. He hurries after her, attempting to catch the observations she was narrating as she entered. Distracted by Greek philosophy and trying to keep up, Liam trips into the shed and catches a full view of the corpse … which has been laying in the summer heat for heaven knows how long … in the sweltering shed. Whatever Doctor Eckels is saying fades into a dull buzzing sound and Liam feels the ground rise to meet him.

He’s unconscious before he even realizes his mistake.

Severed Threads (part 1 of book 1 in the Connections in Crisis series) [chapter 7]

Ian considers Sara’s words. “I guess … I don’t really know any better.” He shrugs. “It was Maura, and then I dated a few people, and then … Abby. Dennis came into the picture a little later.” He hugs himself tightly again. “Maybe I just … don’t deserve to be loved?”

“Ian James Maynard, you stop that right now,” Sara growls. “Absolutely not. You deserve to be loved and cared for and treated with all the respect and care in the world.” She sighs. “That’s the religious trauma talking.”

Ian gives her a sideways glance. “I don’t know.”

Sara huffs. “Well, I do. I know damn well what you deserve.” She stares at Ian, and then glances over at John.

John widens his eyes at her. Shut up, he attempts to communicate telepathically. She smirks, and glances back at Ian — who is thankfully paying no attention to either of them.

“I want to say yes,” Ian says slowly. “I do.”

“What’s stopping you?” Sara asks.

He turns eyes suddenly full of trepidation towards both of them. “Abby’s going to kill me.”

Sara glances at John. “Metaphorically?”

Ian blinks. “Probably…”

John tilts his head. “Ian, how scared of Abby are you?”

“I’ve never seen her as violent as she was Tuesday night, when she kicked me out.” Ian unwraps his arms from his waist and stares at his hands. “I wouldn’t have thought her capable of that level of anger. I … I thought she was going to hit me.” He blinks up at John, giving him a wobbly smile. “I doubt she would actually kill me. But … hell, I don’t even know.”

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