Spilling Guts

Part 117 - The Difference between Alone and Lonely

"Will!" Louis furiously dug his arms through the grave-soil, dragging up broken bits of coffee mug and cans that belonged in a recycle bin. Dirt stained his arms the same color as his funeral suit.

"Will! Answer me!" Louis brought up another broken cup, a star wars figurine, a beanie attached to a bunch of cords. He tossed them aside and kept digging, soft soil turning into mud. "Please, I need to hear you!"

"Louis?"

More wires then mug, like digging though roots in a garden rather than a grave with Will's name on the stone. Louis needed to get Will out of there. He needed a damn shovel or a backhoe but all he had was his hands and they weren't doing enough.

"Will!"

"Louis can you hear me?"

Something grabbed his hand.

Louis jolted awake.

Balcuwitz pulled away from tapping Louis' hand. "Apologies."

"S'okay." Louis winced at the faint light and burning sensation of the contacts he'd left in his eyes overnight. Shit. Should have taken them out before he crashed for the night. Pretty sure Will mentioned something about not rubbing them or sleeping in them. "What time is it?"

"Nine in the morning." Balcuwitz held out a cup of coffee. "Did the couch meet your expectations?"

Louis rolled his shoulders and neck. No cricks or pulled muscles. "Pretty good."

He accepted the coffee and sipped it in silence as Balcuwitz moved back to his desk and shuffled around papers. Hadn't been the first time he'd woken up at Watch Two and had to adjust to a morning that didn't include sunlight blinding him awake.

I'll take being blinded against these dry-as-a-desert-rat's-ass contact lenses in my eyes, ouch.

Once the coffee cup was half empty, Louis had enough focus to pluck the contacts from his eyes and store them in their portable saline container. Seeing the world just a little brighter, but not bright enough to make his skin prickle.

Balcuwitz spoke up. "Did you come to my office just to sleep, or did you want to talk to me first thing in the morning?"

"Mostly for the couch. But yesterday hit me hard."

Like a ton of bricks, or the pile of patents on my desk.

"You went to a funeral," said Balcuwitz.

"How did-- Oh." Duh, he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. "Yeah. Lot to unpack from that. And last night..."

Louis' hand inched to his chest. Under the black shirt, the burns were slowly peeling from his skin and in need of more cream.

"An injury?" prompted Balcuwitz.

Louis shook his head. "A realization."

"Of what?"

Louis' eyes burned again, throat tight. He clasped the warm coffee mug between his two hands like a talisman to keep him together while he pulled his heart apart. He stared at it, as if his gaze could keep the mug hot.

"I'm fuckin' lonely." He'd meant the words to come out indignant, instead they crept out like the last smoke from an S.O.S. fire. "And I don't want to be."

"You won't be," assured Balcuwitz.

"I don't know how to reach out and ask."

"But you have been reaching out when other's aren't asking. You saw Will was struggling and looked into it. You've been offering your time and capacity for Rachel, for Megan and Teegan."

"That was an excuse to avoid my inbox."

"Was it?"

Louis avoided answering by finishing his coffee. He wished this discussion was happening on the observation deck, where he could keep moving and at least feel like he was going forward. And he could avoid Balcuwitz's gaze by looking at where his feet were going. "Now what?"

"Now we get to work." Balcuwitz tapped a file on the desk and startled as his Watch tablet beeped. A message.

"What is it?" asked Louis. He was awake now, somewhat ready for... who knew what came next.

"Rachel taking my advice," said Balcuwitz with a pleased smile. "Are you up for some deep thinking in a group setting?"