“What happened?” Don’s voice, concerned. “Where did that wall come from?”

Tibs was in Jackal’s arms, eyes closed, exhausted, but unable to fall unconscious.

“I must have stepped on a trigger,” Jackal said. “You know me, the klutz.”

Tibs wanted to tell Jackal to stop talking. He was trying too hard. But he didn’t have the energy. Jackal always tried too hard when he lied. Unless he was serious about it, Tibs realized. Then, he was terrifyingly good at it. So good that in the heat of the fight, Tibs hadn’t paid attention to the light on his words; he’d just wanted to…

It should be funny. It should be scary. But Tibs could seem to feel all that much right now.

“How did you bring it down?” Don again, still concerned.

Jackal shrugged. “I go lucky.”

No such thing.

It was interesting to Tibs how often people relegated their planning to something that didn’t exist. It should…something.

Only he didn’t feel all that much right now.

This was different from when he’d been iced. He wasn’t channeling any element, so it was good he couldn’t open his eyes. His emotions were there, raw, scratching at all of him, but he was drained. Drained of physical energy and of essence. He’d been so lost in his rage he hadn’t realized Jackal had gotten him to use up all of his nearly endless reserve.

It should have been enough to kill Jackal.

He had tried to kill Jackal.

If he had only a little energy, he’d use it to throw himself into the abyss for that.

He wanted to cry; to bawl his eyes out.

It was probably funny. He’d spent months iced, because he didn’t want to feel anything. Now that he could, he didn’t have the energy to manage it.

“How are none of you worried about what just happened?” Don, again. Annoyed and suspicious this time.

“It’s the dungeon.” Mez’s voice. “It’s not like it’s the first time it changed things.”

“Sometimes, it is best to simply appreciate that events work out in our favor.” Khumdar.

“But if the dungeon changed this.” Don, exasperated, worried. “It might—”

“Don, drop it.” Jackal, snapping.

Don’s grumbled reply was indistinct, but Tibs knew it for the sign that the dropping was temporary that it was.

They walked. Tibs didn’t know how long. It could have been seconds, or hours. It couldn’t be days. Then a cool breeze brushed his face. Light through his eyelids.

Jackal moving suddenly, Jerking Tibs to as much awareness as he could manage at the moment. “He’s fine,” he snapped.

“Then why are you carrying him?” an older sounding woman, stern. Essence moved around him, purity. He should keep it from sensing him, from learning his secrets, but he didn’t have the strength.

No, purity couldn’t learn his secret.

Thinking was so difficult.

“…essence exhaustion.” Khumdar, in response to a question Tibs missed. He should pay more attention. There might have been an important detail there.

They moved again, and the sun heated him, comforted him.

Tibs wanted neither.

He didn’t deserve warmth or comfort.

* * * * *

The door opened and closed, rousing Tibs. He turned on his side, putting his back to the intruder.

He wasn’t on his bed.

He didn’t want a private room in the inn. Where he should be was in a cell, if not dropped into the abyss and forgotten there.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied to the smell of the broth. He curled in on himself tighter to silence his stomach. Going hungry was the least of the punishment he deserved.

He couldn’t get rid of Jackal’s image, pierced by the stone spires, or the satisfaction in succeeding to finally…

Tears fell.

He’d nearly killed the last member of his family, and he had rejoiced at his accomplishment. That hurt more than being soaked through with corruption; before he had the element.

What also hurt was the realization that he didn’t think of the rest of his team as his family. He’d always imagine they were part of it just for being on his team.

Well, he didn’t think of Don as family, so there was that. But Khumdar and Mez had been with him for long enough. They should be his family, too.

It hurt to realize that somehow Tibs had kept them from becoming so.

He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted to fill himself with ice, take the easy route to peace.

But ice was how he’d reached the point where killing Jackal was not only acceptable, but desirable.

It was painful to realize he couldn’t trust the elements. He was supposed to have mastered them.

He deserved the pain.

The intruder pulled a chair close to the bed. It creaked as he sat in it.

Go away, Tibs willed. He didn’t obey.

Why couldn’t he let him wallow in his misery? Tibs had almost killed his man. He should hate him. Not sit there after bringing a bowl of broth.

Tibs had no idea how it was Jackal wasn’t dead. As far as Tibs knew, he was the only one who couldn’t be hurt by the elements he had. Something about his actual element. Was it something about Jackal suffusing himself with earth? Had that granted him the immunity?

Kroseph should accuse him, not sit there, waiting to ask how he was doing, try to get him to eat something. Try to convince him he shouldn’t be alone, that the other wanted him among them.

“Go away,” He mumbled into the pillow.

Kroseph didn’t say anything. He also didn’t leave.

Why wasn’t he abandoning him? Tibs ground his teeth. Didn’t Kroseph understand that he didn’t deserve the company?

He turned and glared at the server. “Get the fuck out.”

Kroseph smiled and shook his head.

Tibs sat. “Do you have any fucking idea what I can do to you?” he snarled.

“Go ahead.”

Tibs extended his sense as he narrowed his eyes. He expected Jackal by the door, ready to burst in and rescue his man, should—there was no one by the door. Sensing further, the fighter was downstairs, at their table with the rest of the team. How could they leave Kroseph in such danger? Hadn’t Tibs demonstrated just how dangerous he could be? At least they should have Khumdar there, ready to weaken him if he tried anything.

As drained as Tibs still was, he wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Why weren’t any of them there to make sure Tibs didn’t endanger anyone else?

He made a fist and fire coated it, it’s heat just this side of painful and he had to fight the reflex to push it away from his skin. Fire was the one element that hurt him, and he wasn’t going to make that punishment less.

“I’m serious,” Tibs said, shaking his fist threateningly. Did Kroseph know this was all his small reserve let him do? He didn’t have his bracers; Jackal that taken them off when he’d undressed Tibs, before tucking him in bed. He had no idea where they were now. Destroyed, if Jackal was as smart as he hid.

“Do it.”

“I’m not iced, Kroseph,” he snarled. “Do you have any fucking idea how angry I am right now?”

Jackal’s man shook his head.

“Then—”

“Do it,” Kroseph said with a shrug.

The fire faltered, along with his anger. “How aren’t you scared of me? I nearly killed Jackal. I could kill you by barely thinking about it.”

“Because I know you, Tibs.”

Tibs snorted and fell back on the bed, then turned his back to Kroseph again. The silence stretched. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked when it became too heavy.

“Because I know you, Tibs.”

“No, you don’t.” Tibs wasn’t sure he knew himself anymore. If he’d contemplated killing Jackal, his best friend, the closest thing to a brother, the last of his family. What else might he do?

“You didn’t kill him.”

Tibs jerked to sitting again. “I tried to! How is that not enough?”

“That wasn’t you.”

“It was!” He snapped. “I was there. I wanted him dead. I was so pissed at him for getting in my way that I was going to do anything to remove him.” He deflated. “I thought I had.” He pulled his knees to his chest. “I was happy I had.” He rested his head on his knees and cried again.

It hurt so much.

“It wasn’t you who tried to kill him, Tibs. It was the elements.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tibs mumbled. “The elements don’t influence us like that.”

Kroseph snorted, and when Tibs glared at him, he hid a smile.

“What’s funny?” Tibs demanded.

“Just remembering watching you as you learned to channel this element or that one. It’s funny that you’re now saying they don’t influence you.”

“I got that under control.”

“Filling yourself with water like you did, keeping it iced for so long, that influenced you. Don’s read treatises on the effect of suffusing yourself with your element.”

Tibs shrugged. What did he care for what Don had read? He’d been the one doing it. He was the one who had decided, then planned, on killing Jackal. That he’d failed had more to do with how good Jackal was with his element than anything Tibs had failed to do.

Didn’t they understand Tibs had almost succeeded?

He tried to swallow the pain.

“You rest,” Kroseph said, patting his shoulder. “You should have some broth before it gets cold.” Then he left Tibs alone, finally.

Tibs curled up and cried while he waited for the abyss to swallow him.

* * * * *

“Why?” Tibs asked, face buried in the pillow.

Why was he back again? How many days now had the server ignored Tibs desires to be alone, to suffer his hunger? Wallow in pain. Be punished. He’d lost track, with falling asleep crying, waking up to images of Jackal crumbling to pieces in his arms. To Tibs’s glorious cackles as he burned down Sto. And then feeling just as exhausted as when he’d fallen asleep.

“Because I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“It’s what I deserve.”

“No one deserves to be alone.”

“Then where’s Jackal?” Tibs demanded, glaring at his man. “Why isn’t he here?” Why should he be here? Tibs had tried to kill him.

“Because he’s scared.” That made sense. Jackal couldn’t know if Tibs would try to kill him again. “He doesn’t know how to comfort you, and he’s terrified of screwing that up.”

“And you aren’t?” Tibs hadn’t meant to throw the derision in there.

Had he?

Kroseph smiled. “Unlike my man, I have experience dealing with grief and pain in ways other than punching those responsible, or… well, you prefer not hearing about what we do.”

Tibs rolled his eyes and turned his back to Jackal’s man. “This isn’t working,” he said and hoped Kroseph believed him.

And he asked the abyss that he didn’t.

* * * * *

Tibs tried not to sense Kroseph approaching, but his stomach’s growls kept him sensing. With the server, came food. And Tibs was hungry. He was famished.

It already took all his will not to suffuse himself with Purity and take it away. Since no one was punishing him, Tibs would see to it himself. No matter how hungry he got, he wouldn’t eat.

His punishment shouldn’t end.

The door opened and closed. The smell of something fishy and spicy reached him, and he salivated.

Water filled his mouth, and he drank it before he could stop himself. Water kept doing that, forming anytime he felt parched, and he never stopped himself in time.

The bowl was on the bedside table. The chair pulled close to the bed, and Kroseph sat.

And said nothing.

The silence was worse. Tibs wanted accusations. Demands of explanation. He’d even take accusatory glares. But all he got from Jackal’s man was understanding and patient looks.

He ground his teeth.

It was like Kroseph was purposely aggravating him by doing the opposite of what anyone in his position would do. Tibs had tried to kill his man!

“What do you want?” he demanded, glaring. “Just fucking tell me what I have to do for you to fucking go away.”

Kroseph’s smile had none of the condescension it should. “I’m not going away. But I’d like it if you talked to me.”

“I already told you I tried to kill him! What else do you want me to say?”

“How do you feel?”

Tibs stared at him. What kind of stupid question was that?

“I feel like burning you and this entire place down,” he snarled. “How’s that, for how I fell?”

“Why don’t you?”

Was he serious?

“Because I don’t have any essence,” he snapped. He didn’t need the light on the words. He knew he was lying. He had enough to start a small fire, then he could draw on that to make it ever larger. And that was he if didn’t channel fire. His large reserve felt nearly empty, but that still meant there was a lot of essence there for him to use. So it was a good thing Kroseph couldn’t know—

Jackal’s man reached down and came up with Tibs’s bracers and offered them to him.

Had they been there the entire time? They couldn’t have. Tibs would have sensed… No. The enchantment on them meant only when he touched them did he sense the weave. He was so used to wearing them, he’d forgotten. Was his armor also there?

“Are you seriously offering them to me? With the essence in there, I can burn the neighborhood.”

“I’m not worried.”

“How?” Tibs asked, his voice coming out nearly in a whine with how tired of Kroseph’s nonchalance he was. He had nearly killed Jackal. That showed how strong he was. He’d destroyed everything around the transportation platform. How was he not scared of what Tibs could do?

“I know you, Tibs.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you did, you wouldn’t come back like that every day. You’d kick me out of the inn. Threaten me if I ever showed up again.”

“Threaten you with what?”

Tibs glared at the man for the amusement in his voice. He sighed when the expression didn’t change. “Fine. What do you know about me that makes you feel so safe in offering me those?” he asked with derision.

“You care.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” Tibs replied. “And I mean beyond Jackal kind of stupid.”

“Ouch.” Kroseph smirked. “My man’s going to be hurt you think I’m better than him at that.”

“This isn’t funny!”

The smile told Tibs what he thought of that statement.

Tibs let himself fall back on the bed and crossed his arms. “It isn’t,” he grumbled.

“Tibs, everything you’ve done since I’ve met you has been out of a desire to help those around you.”

Tibs snorted.

“You care, Tibs.”

“I burned down an entire neighborhood,” he offered as contradiction.

“You mean Market Place? You did that to keep Jackal’s father from escaping, while channeling an element you had no control over at the time. By the time you did that, it wasn’t you anymore, Tibs. It was the element. And don’t tell me that’s not how it works,” he said as Tibs opened his mouth. “You know quite well that until you figured out how to remain yourself while channeling those elements, it did.”

“I tried to kill Jackal long after I mastered water,” he countered.

“But while iced for so long, you weren’t yourself anymore. You Tibs, can cause great damage. But you do so while looking to save someone, or protect them.” He offered the bracers again. “So take them. I’m not worried.”

Tibs eyed them warily. “I am.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “You don’t understand how angry I am. I want to burn the guild down for how they let Sebastian run free in my town. How they let him kill Carina.” He closed his eyes, tears falling. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself once I have essence again. I don’t know if I’ll care who else gets hurt in the process.”

“Tibs, you already have essence.”

“It’s not the same,” he snapped. “It’s… not fire right now. And I don’t have enough in my other reserve do to anything fast. With that, I can just unleash everything and not care what happens.”

“If that was something you really had to be afraid of, Jackal wouldn’t have survived his fight with you.”

“He didn’t win because I didn’t want to kill him! He won because he was so much fucking smarter than I am!”

“Let’s never tell him you said that, okay?”

Tibs’s anger hitched on the humor of Kroseph’s reaction, and before he could reignite it, he continued.

“You broke down on realizing what you did, Tibs. If there was any danger you’d let others be hurt while making the guild pay, you’d have made sure Jackal was dead, instead of being devastated by the realization of what you did.”

“What if I can’t resist icing up again?” He felt sick thinking about it, but he knew that would go away, under the ice’s influence. “Jackal’s not going to be able to pull that trick on me again.”

When Kroseph didn’t answer, Tibs looked up. He was studying him.

“You don’t trust me either.” Somehow, that made him feel better.

“Do you know what kind of drunk is the most dangerous?”

“The angry one.”

Kroseph shook his head. “It’s the one who thinks they don’t have a problem. Who thinks getting drunk is just something they do when they feel like it. They’re the ones who’ll drink when it can affect their livelihood. If it’s a guard, people might die. And like how you were, until they are broken by it, then never see the problem they’ve become.”

“And once they’re broken, they know better than to go back?” Tibs was surprised at the hope in his question.

Kroseph shook his head. “A lot of them go right back to drinking so they don’t have to deal with the damage they caused. But the certainty never comes back. They always know what they’re doing isn’t fixing the problem. Some will eventually have enough of that and fight their way out. Having friends and family makes that fight easier to win.”

“So I might go back.” Tibs slumped. What was the point of trying if he might fail?

“You might.”

Tibs looked up as the amusement in the tone.

“But if you do. I know a fighter who’ll be right there, ready to punch you back to your senses.”