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That was it. The man's lie practically broke, his posture changing, trying to hide again, trying to become as small as possible. "Daren, Daren please don't lie to me." Ti looked away sadly. "There's blood on the carpet, Daren. It's fresh. Let me see your feet."

Tim's heart quickened at the clenched fists, worrying if he'd have to move to avoid a hit or a blow, praying Daren wouldn't snap or yell at him. He could see thoughts flickering in Daren's downcast eyes, but he didn't know what they were. But Daren turned, Tim flinching before scooting slightly, letting Daren sit sideways, feet flat on the couch.

"I," he gently touched the socked feet, "I said your feet. I, I didn't say sock-covered. I want to see your feet, Daren."

Tim wasn't surprised seeing the second layer of sock on each foot. "Daren," he pleaded softly, and the man listened perhaps, or he just continued moving, but now the eye contact was broken. Tim watched, swallowing as he saw the blood on the current layers, exhaling and trying not to whimper. "Daren," he whispered in return, gently tracing his fingers over the scabbed cuts, some thicker than others. "Daren." he whimpered finally, moving his legs to straighten them out, looking at the cuts on the bottom, seeing the smeared blood. These were fresh.

These were fresh...

"Daren I..." he didn't know what to say, feeling the top cuts again, looking at where they were. he avoided the main vein on the ankle but... but they went up. Tim gently touched the bottom of the sweats, lifting it only a hair before letting go. "Daren I don't..." He wanted to apologize, some of these were a week old if not less, Tim felt this was his fault, that he was the cause of this, but how could he be sure? "Wh-What caused, this?" he said, trying his best not to cry even though his eyes burned.

Look at how horrible Tim was to Daren. Look at what he made the man do. No wonder Daren wanted to stay away. No wonder...

Tim continued to look at the cuts, gently stroking each one. Hey seemed to be everywhere, his feet, goes, very small, very thin ones between his toes, the sides of his feet. Hearing the pain in his friend's voice, hearing someone so large sound so small and helpless. Tim forced himself to suck up his own issues, shoving them in a box in the depths of his mind. "Daren," he murmured softly, "you're making perfect sense, Daren. It's okay." he moved from his spot and onto the small sliver of space beside the man, "I just blame myself for not being here to help you, Daren. I'm sorry. It's all right." he gently rubbed the man's arm, "You're not hurting me, I'm okay. I'm okay." and carefully and cautiously he hugged the man best he could in the strange position. "Please don't shut yourself away." he stroked the man's hair. "It's okay, Daren. No one is hurt right now. Everything is fine."

Tim didn't know what to do, trying to think of what Daren did to calm him down, and this was really it. Just sit and wait. So that's what he would do, sit and wait and whisper to Daren, comforting him best he could.

"You didn't rape me, you know." he murmured, "It's just, I dream of having you in bed with me in that way, so when it happened I was surprised. it wasn't how I expected it to happen. So you didn't hurt me. Please don't blame yourself." a horrible, horrible boyfriend. "We were both scared, but I wasn't hurt I promise. Please don't hide." Tim shouldn't have even brought that up, he didn't want Daren curling in any more on himself. "You don't deserve any guilt. You can't carry the world's pain on your back, you're breaking yourself." and held him tightly, wishing he could say some magic words to fix his friend.

"Daren, you're nothing like him." he responded softly, seeing the man start to panic. "Daren I promise you're not like him. He hurt people on purpose. If you hurt someone it's on accident. You can't blame yourself for accidents." Tim looked at the blood streaks on the couch. "Daren, Daren please, focus on me. Look at me." He had to force Daren to unravel just a bit, tilting his head back to open his airway, keeping eye contact with the man. "Daren, Daren focus. Please you're nothing like him. Am I hurt? You say I'm hurt, but do I look hurt?" And right now he was just worried and concerned. "Focus on me, Daren."

Tim smiled as Daren finally spoke, calming down. "It's fine. You're okay." He gently stroked his face while the officer continued to calm down, waiting patiently, letting his fingers run up the stubble and to his hair. The stubble tickled his fingers, and even though he shouldn't have thought it with Daren in this state, he wondered what it would feel like against his lips or cheek. But the man was looking away, the red-head nodding. "You're preaching to the choir on that pain." he murmured in agreement, the head leaving his hands as Daren curled up.

And Tim just sat there, giving a half smile before a light shrug. "I don't mind. You've helped me, right? I'd be an awful friend if I couldn't do this much." He stood, "Drink your water, I'm going to get the first aid kit from your bathroom." He walked down the hall, pausing in the bathroom and sifting through the things before walking back out. "May I tend to your feet, Daren? I won't tend to your legs if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but at least let me tend to the cuts on your feet."

Tim moved Daren's feet and let them rest on his lap, opening a wipe packet and cleaning his feet first and doing a very thorough job. No part of his feet or ankles were going to get infected, not even between his toes. "You've patched me up plenty of times. You just don't realize it because it's not physical." Tim took out some neosporin, gently applying it to the open wounds while Daren spoke. "Andrew used to cut me, that's why I don't do it. He'd do it on my thighs, this way he could grip them and hurt me twice over." Funny, two months ago he'd never bring it up so calmly. Perhaps therapy was helping. She always had him try to speak about one memory a session.

He smiled a bit at the drinking, "If I didn't have friends who counted my drinks." he took out the bandages and began wrapping them up. "How fresh are the ones on your legs?"

"Don't apologize. The horrid witch makes sure I explain one memory of Givens per session. I'm learning how to tolerate, but only a few, not all." he said softly with a sigh, finishing his feet and setting things aside, rolling up the sweatpants to look at the scars. The oldest ones were on his thighs, just thin slivers of scabs, a week old. He ran his thumb over one of them before focusing on the ones on Daren's calves. "All right. We'll bandage these up lightly, then. Where do you keep your markers, Daren?"