mrballisticsdummy

There's clean-up to do first. Helping in the library, collecting the tapes, getting Sandy's nest set back up in the spare room at Jon's. Staying in the shower after he's done, until he can say for that the smell of smoke only exists in his head.

He should talk to Jacobi. He knows Jacobi needs it, but he also knows Jacobi's gonna take the excuse to make it about him. Focus on the memories burned into Tim's brain, instead of the facts of Warren and Jon and himself and the status quo being viciously upheaved.

And honestly, Tim's half tempted to let him. But Jacobi's already done too much with the whole Danny thing. He needs to be there for Jacobi and he can't let him deflect.

His hair is still damp and his outfit is 'neat but too tired for Style' when he knocks on Warren's door.

"Jacobi. You in?"

He hasn't slept since the fire, so when he opens the door, it's with the sluggish, yet jittery, movements of someone surviving on hopes and coffee.

He isn't surprised to see Tim and gestures him inside the newly renovated cabin. A cozy living room instead of the space cabin, with extra doors and a real couch and an honest to God television.

"Hey," he says, rubbing his face with freshly bandaged hands. "Come in. I was just having lunch. Or...breakfast? Eh, I'll make mimosas and we'll call it brunch."

It's just toast.

He'll save Jacobi the concern of worrying about what time of day it is in a moment. He gives Jacobi's shoulder a warm squeeze as he steps in, taking in the new room without hiding the look of surprise and interest on his face.

"How about you have a sit and I make us something?" he offers, lifting the hand on his shoulder to ruffle Jacobi's hair. "Warren won't mind as long as I clean up after myself, right?"

He won't argue.

"He won't mind, even if you trash the place," he tells him. Because Tim is taking care of Jacobi and Warren has priorities.

He flops down onto the couch, stretching his legs out. He gestures to the door with the fully-stocked kitchen.

"How are you?"

And that tells Tim just about everything.

"Better than you, apparently." There's no venom, or even pity; it's just a statement of fact, as he goes to the pantry to rummage briefly. You know what? Fuck it. Bacon pancakes. Let's get ingredients together. "But, seems like everyone's a goddamn mess right now, so who's gonna notice besides us."

He follows him into the kitchen to sit at the table as he does when Warren cooks.

"Yeah," he says softly. "I'm not doing so great."

"Yeah." He puts the dry ingredients on the bench so he can grab the wets from the fridge. "You need me to pick something for you to start talking about?"

"Spin the wheel if you want. It's all awful." He rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I didn't tell you that Warren got hurt, did I? Not in the fire but - before that. When Ulla threw her fucking tantrum on deck."

That makes him look up quickly with a concerned frown. "I heard the storm, but yeah, didn't hear that part. You haven't really been talking much since we got back."

It's only a gentle comment, just a reminder he doesn't miss that sort of thing.

"Yeah, I wasn't really happy about it. I guess Ulla threw her tantrum, Trevor tried to stop her by throwing a knife and Warren stepped in the way."

He looks down at his hands.

"He was okay, though? You'd have done something already if it was that bad."

He keeps glancing back as he's cooking, checking if Jacobi needs him to come over.

"Yeah, he heals."

Keep going.

He sucks air through his teeth and tilts his head a bit. "We had a fight about it. How he keeps putting himself in danger for other people. But - it was really that he put himself in danger for her. He treats her like Maxwell, which - " He pauses. "We were different. I was his right hand man. I was - well, he held me to a certain standard to keep me in line, but her?" He sniffs a bit. "She could do no wrong. He tolerated so much bullshit from her. He was - her personal cheerleader. Mostly because she was too good to have to keep in line."

There's absolutely no jealousy in his tone at that. There was no double standard - there was only what they individually needed.

"It's rough, right? Seeing him treat someone the way he treated Maxwell." He does pause then, to look back at Jacobi even if he doesn't look back. "You know he's not trying to replace her, but. It still feels like shit. Like he shouldn't because that's how he's supposed to treat her, not just anyone."

"Yes," he says, and there's so much relief and emotion in that word that he needs a minute to just - catch back up to himself.

"And Ulla is not her. She's not even close. She's angry and bitter and hateful. After I pulled Warren out of the fire, he asked me to get her to help heal him. She - the way she looked at him. As if he dared to get hurt. That's not her place."

"Like, she hasn't earned the right to be mad at him like that." The lines aren't hard to read between by this point. "You and Maxwell, you had to put up with him at his worst, you have the right to be as mad at him as you like. But what's she done to be able to treat him like that, right?"

Again, "Yes," with as much as he can muster. "And he just - accepts it. Encourages it. And it's not an act. I could handle it if it was an act, but it's not. It's like - "

But he's not even brave enough to say it in this space.

This time Tim does stop cooking, and turns the stove off where he was warming the pan to turn fully back to Jacobi.

"It's like he's replacing her," he says, as quiet and as gentle as he can.

He mouth tightens to a line and he looks down. He won't confirm it out loud, but Tim's hit it spot on.

"So. You see my dilemma."

"D'you want solutions or commiseration?"

Because he can see a few solutions to that already, but he doesn't think Jacobi actually wants them. This is very much a 'being seen' kind of day.

"I'm going to be mad at any solutions you give, so probably not that."

He sits forward.

"I know how it all sounds. That's why - I don't talk to him about it. Or I chicken out before I get that far."

"At least you know you're supposed to," he comments wryly, resting both palms on the bench behind him and drumming his fingers quietly on the cupboards beneath. He needs a moment to think of the right words.

"...Maxwell was important, Jacobi. To you and Warren. I don't think he'd replace her, but. Well, it's not a hard conclusion to draw, from the outside. You're allowed to be mad."

"It would break his fucking heart if I said those words to him. Because she is important."

He stands up and takes out a carton of orange juice. If he can't have a mimosa, then he'll make a screwdriver.

"Anyway, that's just - the start of it. He got hurt in the library for, again, saving someone else. The lesser Daniel, actually. I caught the tail end of it. Would have killed him if Warren hadn't just been the big, damn hero. At least this time, I - I was there to save his stupid ass."

"Christ." He turns back to the food again, but he doesn't hide the look of concern as he does. Partly because he always feels a bit guilty for using his warden item. "I heard part of it when I was with Jon - on my walkie? Nearly gave me a heart attack hearing you in the middle of it all."

He glances over his shoulder, just idly. "I'm glad you got to get him out this time."

"Yeah," he says with a long breath out. "I - don't know what I'd do if I lost him twice."

Just because he comes back here doesn't mean anything. It's not the same. Seeing him burned and in so much pain...

Jacobi's a little heavy handed as he pours the vodka.

"Sorry you had to hear it."

He shakes his head, mostly for Jacobi to see. "Don't be. It meant you were around to worry about."

He takes a breath, trying to keep it quiet despite himself, but his voice still wavers a bit when he adds, "At least you guys got out okay. It's more than I was hoping."

The day after the fire

Re: The day after the fire

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