After Tyrell left, Elliot had been inconsolable. He'd curled in on himself, taking in desperate lungfuls of air in between sobs. Darlene had tried to calm him down but he had jerked away from her touch. She knew him better than to try and talk to him, so she just sat beside him. Knowing she was there would be enough for him.

Eventually his sobs ceased and he leaned his head on Darlene's shoulder.

'I don't want to be alone again,' he whispered hoarsely.

'That's not a reason to be with someone, you know that right?'

'He needs me.'

'Fuck him Elliot! He lost that right!'

'You don't know what happened to him, it's…'

'Stop making excuses for him Elliot! It's bullshit!' she screeched angrily.

He paused and lowered his eyes.

'I need him,' he whispered. Ah. There it was.

'Why?'

'I don't know. Sometimes I wish I didn't.'

Darlene wasn't very good at love; it wasn't something she really understood. Unlike most people, she didn't really crave it either. She had a tendency to walk away from people before they got too attached, and she was fine with that. She liked to live day-to-day, thrived on uncertainty and unpredictability. She enjoyed sex, obviously, but she sought it out to suit her. So she was at a bit of a loss as to what to say to Elliot.

'You obviously know him a lot better than I do. My gut tells me you'd be making a huge mistake, but if you do decide to trust him again, make sure you do it for the right reasons. Only stay with him if you want to, not because of some misguided sense of obligation. And I swear to God, if he does anything to hurt you again, I will destroy him.'

Elliot just nodded.

It took a little while after that, but he finally managed to convince Darlene that he would be alright by himself. She made him promise to call if he needed anything, but he shook his head and told her he just needed to be alone.

He got into bed and pulled the covers around him tightly. Flipper sat beside him.

He felt so conflicted. He hadn't really meant the things he'd said to Tyrell. He'd been angry and hurt, but he hadn't truly believed what he'd said about Tyrell having no good left in him. In fact, the last few weeks had demonstrated quite the opposite. It was as if a new Tyrell had risen up from the ashes of his old life. Actually scratch that, he didn't believe this was a new Tyrell, but rather who he actually was, coming back to life.

He'd watched Tyrell transform from someone who was hardened and volatile, to the softer, kind man Elliot suspected had always sat beneath the surface. The gentle version of Tyrell that he'd kept hidden away, for fear of looking weak. Elliot had liked watching it break through the surface.

He liked how Tyrell smiled when he talked about his son. He liked hearing stories about his past- they helped him to understand what had made Tyrell the way he was for so long. Most of all, he liked how Tyrell looked at him. Love and reverence warmed his cold, blue eyes. When they'd first met, it made him feel uncomfortable. When Tyrell was trying to persuade him to work at E Corp, his intensity had made Elliot feel like an animal, trapped in a cage. That intoxicated look of wonderment that shone in his eyes had been so unsettling, but now...

No, Elliot didn't believe a word of what he'd said to Tyrell, and he flinched now, regretting his hurtful accusations. He'd felt betrayed, and so blindingly angry, but he didn't believe that Tyrell didn't deserve love.

Yes, Elliot definitely got the sense that this man he'd come to care for had always been locked away deep inside, and he felt a glow of pride that he'd been the key to unlocking it. Tyrell was still sharp and resilient, and Elliot felt sure that when the world calmed down, he would land on his feet and find success again. But he was relaxed now, happier and more confident in himself. He didn't have the look in his eye of a caged animal, or the gait of a person constantly being chased.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, as an unwelcome reminder of what Tyrell had done ripped through his mind. Tyrell knew about his delusions, and the parts of himself that truly frightened him. While Elliot had been going about his life as best as he could, unaware that not everything was as it seemed, Tyrell had known the truth. Tyrell had known about the ghosts that haunted him, how reality tricked him, and how illusion bled into the corners of his vision.

A thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Tyrell had told him that he knew, or at least alluded to it. What was it he'd said when Elliot had been trying to talk him off the roof? Something about how he knew how Elliot's mind tricked him. That Elliot struggled to differentiate between what was real, and what wasn't. Shit. How had he missed that? How had he not looked deeper into those words? He'd been so afraid at the time that their meaning hadn't even registered.

Elliot thought he might be sick. He hated that his mind had such power over him. That he could never be truly certain of anything. That sometimes he took on a whole life that wasn't his own and acted outside of himself. That he forgot things, lost whole chunks of time. He'd forgotten Darlene was his sister. He'd had conversations with his fucking dead father that he'd sworn were real. Worse still, his delusions made him hurt himself. He'd put himself in hospital, thrown himself out of a window. Who knows what else? He started to shake as he felt overwhelmed by the fear of the danger his mind put him in. Lately he'd often felt like he was spiralling out of control, his grip on reality getting weaker by the day.

And the thought that someone else knew what he was going through and not only didn't help him, but actually took advantage of his vulnerability, made him physically gag. Tyrell had somehow, inexplicably been able to see what no-one else could. Many others looked at him with concern in their eyes – Krista, Gideon, Darlene- but somehow missed it. Not that he blamed them. If he had no idea what was going on in his own mind, how would anyone else be able to see it? There must have been times when his behaviour had seemed odd though. Or odd enough to cause alarm, surely? When Darlene and Angela had found him by his father's grave they'd looked stunned, speechless. How were they so surprised?

Tyrell couldn't have known all the details, surely? He couldn't have known that it was the ghost of his father that haunted him, goaded him and took over his senses. But yet he knew that something wasn't right. He'd sensed it, seen it, pieced together the clues, and sussed him out. He knew that there were times when Elliot wasn't Elliot. When he could talk to Elliot without fear of repercussion, because Elliot would have no memory of it afterwards. How?! He slammed his fist into the wall, and winced with pain.

Since the hack, and the events that followed shortly after, he'd actually felt a strange sense of calm. As if while the earth spun faster on its axis, he was somehow slowing down. He found clarity in the chaos, and felt a strange sense of hope. Some of that was, in part, down to Tyrell. Faced with the task of rebuilding their lives, they were united. They respected and cared for one another, and gave each other purpose in a world now filled with uncertainty. They were good for each other, or so Elliot had thought. He felt a sob growing in his throat, and strained his eyes in an attempt to quell the tears that were forming in the corners.

He knew that this was, by far, not the worst thing Tyrell had ever done. Yet he was willing to overlook his other crimes– why? Because Tyrell hadn't done those other things to him? If so, what kind of person did that make him?

No, that wasn't it. Some of Tyrell's other crimes had been motivated by fear. He'd felt like he was backed into a corner, so he lashed out. Others were simply because he'd reached a point where he was so single-mindedly driven by his ambition that there was literally nothing he wouldn't have done. But none of these crimes had brought him any enjoyment. Some tasks he'd gone about robotically, detaching himself from the situation, to get the job done. Other times he'd been horrified by his own actions. He'd clawed, struggled and fought his way to keep afloat and torn himself apart in the process.

But the way Tyrell had described his encounters with Elliot…he made it sound like he'd enjoyed it. Like it was a game he was playing. Like Elliot was a toy, and it didn't matter that he was completely, irreparably fucking with his mind. He knew Tyrell had come to him out of desperation, like everything else he did, but he had definitely drawn pleasure from it too. Why? What kind of human being enjoyed doing something like that to another person?

How would he ever be able to trust Tyrell again? He didn't want to lose him, but it was hard enough not being able to trust yourself, without the fear that someone you loved was taking advantage of you when you were at your weakest. The thought terrified him. He felt so powerless, and alone.

No-one understood what this was like. What was it Angela had said to him? That she was jealous that he'd been seeing his dad?! He'd been so angry when she'd said that. How could she be so naïve? He was trapped in a nightmare, having conversations with nothing but a facsimile of his father. And she envied him?! Could she not see how fucking paralysed with fear his own helplessness made him? How devastating it was to think your father was actually still alive, only to then lose him all over again? It was so fucking far from comforting that he'd almost laughed in her face.

No-one understood him, except apparently, Tyrell. And now Elliot couldn't trust him. He let out a sob of frustration. Where did that leave him?

He began to cry, hot tears of anger, frustration and fear. Sorrow coursed through him like a chill, leaving him shivering and covered in goose-bumps.

He wasn't sure how long how long he stayed like that, but he was eventually interrupted by a knocking on his door.

Tyrell's voice drifted softly through the wall.

'Elliot, are you there?'