Low Five {Tag Jacob}

[Irina Wintour]

Jacob had not anticipated how vulnerable the witch would be to the power and emotions he was leaking, and would have backed off in alarm had her mind not suddenly opened up to him, revealing her inner turmoil, the events of her recent past, entirely exposed. So, while he still felt wretched for reducing her to such a state...he understood. This was not entirely his doing: it was a joint effort.

But now she was crying, her mind utterly open to him. For a frightening moment Jacob reflected back on one of his old ploys, a despicable tactic he had carried out in the days of yore, when he hadn't been afraid of his power. Target a woman who is alone, lonely, disheartened; fuel her sadness with a bit of his own, from a distance; reach into her exposed mind to find the right words to comfort her; and "gallantly" swoop in to use his ability on top of that. Grateful, grateful, always so grateful. Such a way with words. It always felt so good, so rewarding, so fulfilling, to help...and they always loved him for it. So much love. He was doing so much good.

...Oh yes. What a compassionate, chivalrous man. What a scarred, broken mind. God forbid Jacob ever relapse.

He chased away his thoughts with a shudder...but he couldn't chase away Angela's mind. She was practically a beacon. A frankly enticing beacon. So he retreated: he sealed up his power, erected his walls, and cut himself off. This wasn't just him masking his power, this was something more drastic. He sometimes did this in emergencies, detaching himself emotionally from those around him, so that he could function without having to deal with his temptation-- he had spent decades at a time in such a state. It was what he had done back when he forced himself into isolation, hiding away from the world, fleeing from his own power and the desires that came with it, for the good of everyone, including himself.

No. Not really. Not including himself. It was isolation that had started all of this to begin with, and continuing to hopelessly revisit it, even occasionally, was part of what had caused his spells of depression to manifest. It was somewhat like the most uncomfortable and detrimental security blanket in the world. But at least in this case he was not removing himself physically from the situation, and even as he stared down at Angela blankly, numb, he was still obligated to help. Only now it wasn't in the form of "comforting" her. It was just his job.

Instead, businesslike and oddly distant, he knelt beside her and firmly supported her shoulders. She wanted to go home. It was clear in her mind, a mind which no longer beckoned to him. He could get her there, even though he had recently promised himself that he would not teleport passengers pell-mell across the city, not anytime soon.

Nevertheless, a moment later they were in Angela's room, a location he'd easily pulled from her mind, which was still ajar...though soon she would recover. He would need to hurry. He picked her up, holding her away from his body, and easily carried her to her bed, gently arranging her on the fluffy comforter. Rather robotically, he pulled another card from his pocket and set it on her nightstand. There was a moment's hesitation, during which the numbness dissipated and he was seized with a score of conflicting emotions. Biting his lip, he stifled them and coolly pulled out his pen. He wrote "Jacob" on the back of the card, glanced at Angela once more, then vanished.

He was now in his office, and momentarily fatigued. One hand on his desk, he somewhat fell into his chair, rather than sat, and emerged from his empty state of self-imposed objectivity and isolation. He usually avoided remaining too long in such a state these days, he did know how bad it was for him.

But coming back was always bad, as well. Guilt for what he'd done to Angela, remorse for what had happened to her in her life, grief for the relationship that had crumbled, dejected by his scandalous thoughts from earlier, distressed by the cold, unwelcoming state of detachment he'd fled to yet again like a self-destructive fool...all of it rushed back.

He might be all right come morning. But for now Jacob dropped his head into his arms and sobbed.

[Angela Arun]

Angela couldn't recall what time she had gotten home, or how, but as she opened a groggy eye, she was staring at something small and level with her vision on her bedspread. She reached over to it with a hand and realized she was still fully dressed - and Angela hated going to bed in her normal clothes, because she tended to get super dirty. She sat up a little, her head swimming, and flipped the card over so she could read it.

Oh, she thought to herself. She remembered, now. That vampire - he'd done something to her, though she couldn't comprehend what. She got the feeling that he was a lot older than some of the vampires she'd faced, and that didn't sit well with her. She stood up and stripped down into her underclothes, and then went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. When she emerged, she selected a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed down the stairs. She needed to speak to her mother about some things, and this was definitely one of them.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she realized that the house was quiet. A note on the fridge indicated that her parents had gone grocery shopping. She laughed to herself a little - it figured. She sat down and ate her cereal unexpectedly fast. She had lost a lot of energy the night before, and she couldn't believe how hungry it had made her. She finished quickly and located her shoes. If her mom wasn't home, than she didn't know what else to do.

Maybe she'd go find Hailee. She needed to get more insight on this fellow before she went into Single Earth and talked to him directly.