Me too.

We should - talk about some things, in person.

When you're ready.

I'm extra-bitchy when I'm hurt, and I know it. There are some things I need to say now that I've got my head on straight, and I don't want to do it over the phone.

If you can't or won't say anything back, that's up to you.

Nobody does.

But we're - tangled, and we expect things from each other in ways that we shouldn't and. I think it's important to sort that out.

Good. If there's...somewhere you'd rather meet?

I'm fixing up a bombed-out place. Come by when you can?

I'll be waiting.

[Daniel isn't sure how much gets across, but he tries to send a wave of welcome, warm and fresh like the breeze off the sea in the spring, tugging the door open. The place is pretty stripped down, with a few basics set up in neat piles, cooking utensils and carpentry tools, with upside-down crates for seats. A dinged kettle hangs in the brick fireplace.]

I wanted to make you tea. It's not ready yet.

[I'm glad you're here.]

[He steps up close to Charles, close enough that he has to look up a little to meet his eyes. It's too close not to be awkward, and Daniel knows it, and the point was to give him a hug, but he's suddenly uncertain if he should.]

You said - you felt my mind as many.

I hope that's not uncomfortable for you.

[It's weirdly earnest, baldly said thanks to Daniel's own inexperience with telepathy, but he means it. He doesn't want to cause Charles pain.]

I don't mind.

[He turns and moves further inside, sitting on one of the crates and gesturing for Charles to take the other.]

I'm used to my emotions being shared on some level.

There are - some nightmares I wouldn't wish on anyone, no matter what you've already seen, but that's not about privacy or offense or shame or. Whyever normal people object.

[There's no hint of content associated with the worry, just a dissonant mental twitch away, like a scratched record, an old subconscious reflex more for his own protection than Charles's.]

[He nods, almost idly.]

That's fine. I'm going to just talk, I think, because I'm used to it, and my signal-to-noise ratio is probably lower than most, but you can listen in all you want.

[Softly.]

You feel like mine.

I don't really care what dimensional sleight of hand is behind that. I want to take care of you, and your Israel isn't here to do it. You'd never owe me anything for that.

I don't know you yet, and I can't trust you or treat you like a hero I never had. But I want to be a part of your life while we're here, if you'll let me.