He can't do this. He can't. He needs to leave, he needs to get out of here, he can't do this. He stares at Jay, silently pleading, trying to lock numb eyes with his, but Jay isn't looking at him. Please, Jay. Please don't make him do this. He had reasons to lie. Jay knows he had good reasons. Please, Jay. Please.
The question rattles out anyway, and Tim can't look at the other man, just lets his own eyes slide shut as his head tips down, grimacing in disgust.
He shouldn't have expected pity, or understanding. Not from Jay. Not when Jay still has to get his answers. That's always been the most important thing, hasn't it? His fucking answers. He's dismantling everything Tim tried to cobble together out of the sad shattered little remnants of himself and everything, everything he - he wanted one person to escape this, one person who deserved it, and if Jay didn't then Jessica had to, and Tim lied, he lied he lied he lied between his teeth because she had to get out, she deserved to have an actual life that wasn't scraped together out of bleeding-edged memories and fearful shadows and nightmares and medication.
But why would Jay care about any of that.
Why should he.
The words leak out dry and rusted, creaking out from under the resigned slump of Tim's shoulders and the wetness in his eyes. "She's alive." It cracks out like a sob. "She got away. She's been away. For months."
Tim's hands hang limply at his sides, trailing and defeated. And something else edges out unbidden, small and exhausted and powerless. "Fuck you, Jay."
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The question rattles out anyway, and Tim can't look at the other man, just lets his own eyes slide shut as his head tips down, grimacing in disgust.
He shouldn't have expected pity, or understanding. Not from Jay. Not when Jay still has to get his answers. That's always been the most important thing, hasn't it? His fucking answers. He's dismantling everything Tim tried to cobble together out of the sad shattered little remnants of himself and everything, everything he - he wanted one person to escape this, one person who deserved it, and if Jay didn't then Jessica had to, and Tim lied, he lied he lied he lied between his teeth because she had to get out, she deserved to have an actual life that wasn't scraped together out of bleeding-edged memories and fearful shadows and nightmares and medication.
But why would Jay care about any of that.
Why should he.
The words leak out dry and rusted, creaking out from under the resigned slump of Tim's shoulders and the wetness in his eyes. "She's alive." It cracks out like a sob. "She got away. She's been away. For months."
Tim's hands hang limply at his sides, trailing and defeated. And something else edges out unbidden, small and exhausted and powerless. "Fuck you, Jay."