"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."
Jacobi goes quiet, swirling his drink around in the glass. "Weird. He was burning up first, then settled. And - " He snorts. "He could hear Maxwell in my fucking head. So they had a whole conversation."
"...that is weird. What the fuck." He'd never really thought about it, but it made sense that he could. Especially if he wasn't in any state to filter any of it. "How'd that go, then?"
"I mean, it's not exactly a secret that this is a prime situation for you to go nuclear," he points out, and sits next to Jacobi after he's put the dishes in to soak. "All the harm to Jon's pretty much done, but we're still gonna be hurting for a while after the fact."
"Yeah," he says because how can he not? He can't exactly dispute the fact that he's losing his mind with this. "I'm starting to think that there's no point in - trying to help people. Stupid as that sounds. But I've never - had control of things. And it really sucks here."
"Yeah." Because, same. "It's... frustrating, sometimes. Helping people is a constant effort. Never really looks like there's any progress when you're always picking someone up from their worst. Especially when people target them specifically."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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."
no subject
"...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."
no subject
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."
no subject
He glances over his shoulder, just idly. "I'm glad you got to get him out this time."
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
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."
no subject
He takes another drink. "And you - are you sure you're up for this anyway?"
no subject
Ugh, he can't lie to Jacobi. "Alright, well. Not fine, but. I can handle this. Still easier than the Circus."
no subject
no subject
"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."
no subject
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."
no subject
And he still feels like he shouldn't have. He knows he would have gone mental doing nothing, but it still felt like abandoning him.
"How was he with you?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
He sniffs, taking a long drink. "Anyway, he was miserable. He could tell I was miserable. And he's still trying to talk me down."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)