"You think I don't know that?" he snaps back. They're both on the defensive again, weary and broken as they both are, hackles raised. But Tim is so close to crumbling completely, he walked right into the thing that defined his nightmares and it let him go, and this isn't like before when he stopped and it faded - this time it hit back, and did the neurological equivalent of taking the shavings off his brain.

But no, fuck it, this Jay is just some stupid transient mental construct. So what the hell, right, it's not like he'll walk away with memories of this. It's not like he'll walk away at all, because he always ends these dreams shot and bleeding. Sometimes worse.

"You think I don't try to change what happens?" And Tim rounds on him properly, anger flying out of his core. "You think I haven't seen it? I had to watch that footage, and I try to change it every goddamn time, every goddamn night, and I can't." His voice breaks humiliatingly on the last word. Is he crying? No, just perilously close to it, per the fucking norm. Can't help but break down, can he? Tim reins it in, barely, but the words still tremble when he spits them out. "Every night I try, and it doesn't matter. I know how this ends, and every night I fuck it up."

There are footsteps over their head, causing the wood to creak, and Tim freezes. Fuck, he didn't even realize how loudly he was speaking. He knows what's coming. He knows what'll happen. He's seen every repetition. No, no, not this time, please.