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.
"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."
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."
Tim lurches slightly with the hug, not expecting it, but there's no real hesitation before he wraps his arms around Jacobi and squeezes back. His breath is shaking when he takes a deep breath, but he's just glad for the contact.
"Yeah, we're not done yet." He sniffs as he turns around to check the bacon, and starts pouring the pancake mix on them. "But that can at least wait until after you've got some food in you. You look like you're gonna pass out."
"Orange pulp in your mimosas doesn't count and you know it," he scolds lightly. "And I could have figured that, you're going to bleed coffee if I cut you."
He pulls out a plate to flip some pancakes clear of the heat. "Which means you've got way too much on your mind right now, so we'll keep talking until you can pass out."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, as he scoops the last pancakes out and turns the heat off again.
"It's just, um. Different. The Circus was just... pain. Fear. It wasn't..." He presses both hands onto the counter to stop them shaking when he thinks about it. "I could feel Jon's... everything, getting burned up. It wasn't just hurting him, it was-- destroying him."
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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.
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"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."
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But he's not even brave enough to say it in this space.
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"It's like he's replacing her," he says, as quiet and as gentle as he can.
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"So. You see my dilemma."
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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.
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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."
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"...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."
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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."
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He glances over his shoulder, just idly. "I'm glad you got to get him out this time."
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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."
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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."
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He pulls out a plate to flip some pancakes clear of the heat. "Which means you've got way too much on your mind right now, so we'll keep talking until you can pass out."
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He takes another drink. "And you - are you sure you're up for this anyway?"
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Ugh, he can't lie to Jacobi. "Alright, well. Not fine, but. I can handle this. Still easier than the Circus."
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"It's just, um. Different. The Circus was just... pain. Fear. It wasn't..." He presses both hands onto the counter to stop them shaking when he thinks about it. "I could feel Jon's... everything, getting burned up. It wasn't just hurting him, it was-- destroying him."
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He puts his hand on the small of Tim's back, just for a moment, as he takes a drink and brings down the plates.
"He told me what happened. We - talked a bit after."
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