The halls of the old, empty house echoed with the sound of Toby’s ragged breathing and the sharp thud of his fists hitting the wall. His knuckles were raw, trembling as he hit the same spot again and again, each strike fueled by something he couldn’t even name—anger, fear, exhaustion, all tangled up until it burned through him like fire. His body shook, twitching harder with every surge of rage that ripped out of him.

He didn’t even hear Jack approach. He didn’t notice the sound of boots against the creaking floorboards, or the faint rattle of glass in Jack’s mask as he stepped closer. Toby was too far gone, muttering under his breath, growling, his chest heaving as he dragged his nails down his own arms. His breath came out in broken gasps, and he slammed his forehead against the wall, as if the pain might shut everything off.

Then—hands. Steady, gloved hands catching his wrists before he could hurt himself again. “Toby.” Jack’s voice was low, steady, grounding. Not demanding, not scolding—just there. Solid.

Toby flinched, his whole body jerking like he’d been shocked. “Don’t—don’t touch me—” His voice cracked, more plea than order, but Jack didn’t let go.

“I’ve got you,” Jack murmured, pulling him just enough away from the wall to stop the self-destruction. Toby thrashed at first, shoving against him, his violent energy lashing out in every direction. But Jack took it all, holding firm, unshaken, his arms wrapping around Toby’s trembling frame.

“You’re not alone. Not this time.”

The fight bled out of Toby in stuttering bursts. His fists pounded weakly against Jack’s chest until they slowed, faltered, and finally fell limp. His knees buckled, and Jack moved with him, lowering them both to the floor. Toby pressed his face into Jack’s shoulder, breath harsh and uneven, and his twitching grew sharper as the breakdown wracked through him.

Jack’s hand rubbed slow circles against his back, the kind of motion that said I’m not going anywhere. The mask pressed lightly against Toby’s hair as Jack bent his head close. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Toby’s body shuddered again, violent sobs tearing out of him now instead of rage. His fingers clawed into Jack’s shirt, clinging like he might fall apart if he let go. Jack tightened his hold, silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing, the one anchor Toby could follow in the storm.

Minutes passed like that—Toby shaking and breaking, Jack holding him together until the fire dulled to embers. When Toby finally slumped, exhausted and hollow, Jack shifted his grip but didn’t release him.

“Better?” Jack asked quietly.

Toby didn’t answer, just buried himself deeper in Jack’s chest. And Jack accepted that silence for what it was—trust.