"Great," says Tim without any real enthusiasm, and scowls at his coffee. Too bad sleep is near-impossible for him and always has been. Too bad he'll probably just end up trapped in one of his old nightmares, or another rehash of Jay's sudden, horrific death - and now his subconscious has two scenarios to pull from. Too bad he's just as likely to get launched into one of the dreams that seem to serve as the Rift's idea of fun, or share a head with some other rifty, or be trapped in literally a million other possibilities besides actually finding the one person that he, for once, wants to find.

Too bad.

"Any idea how I even do that?" he asks dully. "I mean, sleep's never exactly been easy. Even when I do sleep, I'm pretty sure I'd've remembered if the real Jay ever showed up."

He scrubs a hand through his hair and tries to shove down the memory of half a dozen simulacra of the man himself as they paraded through whatever sporadic snatches of sleep he stole this week.