Jay's voice cuts through the fog briefly, and Tim recovers enough wherewithal, barely, to reach up with a hand and swipe wildly away. Get back. Get back.

Oh shit.

He can feel himself shuddering under the weight of each hacking cough, his body buckling, his fingers curling into claws as they dig into the rough stone, scraping them open, tearing his fingernails, leaving his hands raw and bloody.

He remembers the first time this happened, the first time he knew, really knew what was happening to him as he shook and spiraled into distressed sobs, hands cupped over his face as other parts of him leaked through to crush his mind into compliance.

It hurts.

It fucking hurts.

It's every nerve being carved out and rearranged, it's his body being jarred into submission, it's his lungs left heaving and empty, it's mind being flayed alive. It's something bestial clawing its way out from the furthest corners of himself, something mired in that, that thing, eyes dark and empty, mind dark and empty and horrible and swirling and alien and its thoughts and its mind and it, its being pressing up against his, choking him out, drowning him, muzzling him.

Tim's body folds forward and into silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Then.

His eyes open.

It always feels that it has been too long since this body was theirs.