Archive of Our Own ^beta

For about as long as he’d been conscious, John knew that the hardest puzzles weren’t on a grid or found in the comforting rhythms of logic. No, they were
found just about everywhere in the outside world, small talk for example, a thousand rules that only those with a certain sense seemed to know instinctively, the rest were left blind, using trial and error and error and error, to get by.

So he knew he lacked something, something that other people took for granted, but it wasn’t just his social awkwardness that was evidence.
He didn’t understand people, how they felt, their thoughts were a black box to him. He used logic as a crutch with them really, to figure out the series of events that must have happened, that predicted behavior. He wasn’t a sociopath, he felt bad when he did bad things, he just didn’t have that thing they called empathy.

The agoraphobia didn’t exactly abate when he became James, it was just easier to ignore, James would leave his house into a confusing world and lean into the wind, and they were supposed to be twins right?

That funny feeling would creep into his bones, starting at his fingertips, small tremors that would spread, acid in his throat and never enough air in his lungs.

He would focus on the puzzle, the murder, things he could grab onto when the world seemed to spin faster and faster, trying to rip him from gravity’s loving hand.

But sometimes there wasn’t a puzzle to solve, he tried to picture one but the black and white boxes swam in his mind. Today there weren’t any murders, a surprising break in London’s typical gory mood, just suicides and missing people that weren’t taken, just another person who didn’t have that special thing inside and were tired of pretending they did.

“Hey John, you alright?”

He never knew what the point of that question was, most people just wanted assurance, not an actual answer.

“Of course I am.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, you look worse then Evens when he ate that bad egg salad sandwich.”

Apparently the usual social script didn’t work in this case, he also looked Ill when this happened, which was good to know.

“I just get like this sometimes, I just need some air.”

That must have been enough for Russell, as he stopped interrogating John and instead put his hand on his shoulder and started leading him, out of the building, out into the parking lot and to Russell’s car.

He opened the door on John's side then gently pushed him in and closed the door. That feeling started to fade a little, he was inside, it wasn’t as good as brick and plaster, but it would do.

He started to become more aware of his surroundings, from his body, to the tactile feel and smell of the car, to noticing DI Russell Carter in the seat to the right of him.

“Thank you.”

Because he might have collapsed in that building, because he wasn’t pretending to be James anymore and maybe he could let his guard down a bit, they could see the real him.

“Course’,”

They were silent a few moments, then—
“My, erm, my fiance had something similar happen to her, she would get these anxiety attacks, and I would always try to bring her out of it. Do you want to try some stuff I learned? You don’t have to, of course.”

“No that—“ John was momentarily struck by the kindness of this person, to open a wound just for a friend.
“— that sounds good.”

“Okay, I want you to take a deep breath, then count to four, and release, alright, now breath in for five,”

He walked him through the breathing exercise in a tone of voice that was so patient, most people were never this patient with John.

Eventually it felt like he was on solid land, the tinnitus stopped its ringing and he could finally think again.

“Thank you, I think I’m feeling a bit better now,”

Russell's face lit up with a thousand watt smile,
“That’s excellent, do you wanna talk about it? It really helps sometimes.”

Talk about it? He’s never had to talk about it, Lucy and James just knew, how would he explain it to someone who wasn’t missing something core.

“It’s, it's like—“ his brain failed to come up with the words, instead it reached for metaphors, and he couldn’t allow that.

“— Before this job, I never left my house.”

He expected some form of question from his partner, ‘ you must have left sometimes, what about groceries?’
But no, he just sat there, listening.

“Whenever I would make the venture, the sounds and bright lights would overwhelm me. I hid away in my childhood home and solved puzzles all day.”

No judgment, no face of a schoolyard bully telling him what he already knew, that he was a freak. He continued,
“James managed, I knew he struggled with some of it, but he was always more capable, and after our father left the difference became even more stark.”

“And when I started impersonating a police officer, it was sink or swim, so I latched onto the only thing I could, puzzles, but today-“

“Today there weren’t any, I understand.”

Instead of making him feel understood, those words only managed to make him angry, unjustifiably angry.
“You don’t understand, you can go outside and not feel like you're dying, there’s something about me that’s wrong, I know you all notice it!”

There he had said it, he’d been an imposter long before assuming James’ life, someone who pretended to be human.

They were silent and John started to feel guilty, Russell was just trying to help, and now he’d gone and lashed out.

“Just cause’ you’re autistic doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, mate.”

John looked at Russell and tried to show confusion on his face at his words, the memories of children who couldn’t speak, who fell behind in his grade, ran through his head. The teachers would whisper and the kids would joke.
He had no issues with intellect, in fact the issue might be that it was too high.

“Ah, you older gents don’t really use words like that for it, you also probably haven’t seen any social media posts about it, to put your disdain for the internet lightly.”

At Johns nod he continued,

“It probably meant something different back then, but nowadays it’s a word for people that usually don’t fit in socially, or it isn’t as easy, get overstimulated by stuff, and you’re gonna relate to this one, hyper focus on an interest or topic, like you and puzzles.”

Check check and super check

Although he still had questions,

“What about intellectual disability? I thought that was important,”

“It is, just not for everyone, some are high functioning or geniuses like you, for others that’s part of it for sure.”

He seemed proud of his knowledge on the subject, then abruptly made a face,
“I mean, I’m not trying to diagnose you or anything, I just thought you already knew, sorry to assume mate,”

“No! Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

And for being so kind and patient, and maybe giving me a word for something I’ve felt all my life.
Could it be that what he was missing wasn’t anything inside him but a lexical gap? What Russell said stuck with him ‘just cause’ your autistic doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you mate.’ could it possibly be true?

He got out of the car, suddenly overwhelmed by what he was feeling, in a different way this time.

“Thank you, tell everyone I’m going home,”

“You alright mate?”

“Yes, quite, I just need to go home right this second.”

He ran to his poorly parked car and drove jerkily to Lucy’s house, not realizing he had called it home.

He opens the door and walks through the hallway till he is met with the sight of her in the kitchen.

“John! What are you doing here, is everything alright? Did you find a lead on James?”

“Oh right, yes everything’s alright, no I haven’t found anything.”

“Oh, then why are you here, exactly?”

“Lucy, I want you to answer honestly,”

“Okay,”

“Am I autistic?”

Instead of being met with a simple yes or no, she looks him directly in the face and laughs, flashes of pranks at school flashed through his mind, had Russell set him up to be humiliated?

“Oh no you're serious, you really didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That yes you are autistic, I just thought, well it was pretty obvious.”

Of course he was the last one to find out, it seemed fitting.

“Was— is— James autistic?”
She pushed past his slip of the tongue,

“Yes, he talked about it with me and I helped him when I could.”

John took a moment to let the information, puzzles that he’d struggled to piece together clicked in his mind, the new ideas pushing out the old, the old ideas that said he was broken, that he broke when their father left.

“Oh god I’m so sorry I should have talked to you about it, I could have given you things that helped James, resources.”

“Resources?”

“Yes, here come this way,”

For the second time today he was being led somewhere, though he didn’t really mind.

He was brought face to face with a computer and Lucy began to type faster than he could solve a sudoku puzzle.

“Here you can look at these while I go and get some of James’ things.”

On the computer screen were various items and articles about how to support the autistic people in your life.

After a few minutes she came back with an armful of stuff.

“Here, this is called a weighted blanket, let me just— there!”
She dropped the other things and swaddled him up like a baby, and alright it wasn’t that bad, in fact it felt pretty good.

“I knew it! And these are ear muffs, they do what they say on the tin, and those are some of James’ favorite fidget toys, I also grabbed Henry’s Rubik’s cube because I figured that would be more your speed,”

It was all so much, suddenly the outside world understood him even if he didn’t understand it. In his intense emotions it seemed his body once more didn’t know what to do, instead of an anxiety attack, it thought that the best thing to do was to cry.

Tears dripped down his cheeks and onto James’ amazing blanket, a sob shook through him and his throat closed up.

“John! I guess this was probably to much, I shouldn’t have pushed all of this on you so quick,”

“No, it’s, just thank you,” he couldn’t string a proper sentence together, but then again he didn’t think he'd ever let himself feel like this.

“Thank you.”