Jay hadn't moved since they got back to the hotel. This worried Tim.

The guy hadn't made much sense during the car ride back. Tim wouldn't even let him check in to the hotel with him, and only let Jay leave the car when he'd already gotten the camera and their pitifully small duffels into the room first.

Jay had mumbled the occasional unintelligible phrase, but by the time Tim got the hotel room door open, he was out like a light. Tim made sure he collapsed on one of the beds.

That had been hours ago.

Now Tim sat against the bathroom wall, considering his pills. Or rather, staring blankly at the pills without seeing them as he considered what had happened at the house.

Something was wrong with Jay. Now Tim was certain of it. The first time Jay had said someone was standing outside watching them, Tim hadn't thought much of it. He'd believed him, naturally, since this sort of thing was beginning to become rather common with their lifestyle. The second time was unsettling, but nothing to panic immediately about.

And then there was the seizure.

That was what worried Tim the most.

The rocking back and forth, the uncontrollable shivering after and during, the inability to move – all symptoms Tim was well acquainted with. His pills had kept him strong enough for now, but he wasn't sure they'd do much to help Jay, especially since they couldn't even be sure if Jay was having the same...problems as Tim.

Tim wanted to take Jay to a doctor now, but Jay was hardly in any state to go anywhere, and Tim wasn't certain he would agree to go even if he was. He had been so adamant about not needing help before...

Tim turned his pill bottle over in his hand. Had these helped, or had it been something else? Had that thing been careless or had gotten bored with them? How had Tim managed to stave it off, keep it from harming either of them or wiping their memories? Was he somehow getting better?

That line of thought derailed at the clattering sound coming from outside. Was Jay awake, or had he just rolled off the bed? Tim unlocked the bathroom door, sighed, and re-entered the hotel room.

"Jay?"

Tim froze.

"Jay!"

He scrambled down on his knees to help his friend.

Tim had no idea how Jay had gotten hold of a pen, nor had he realized Jay even had one on him, but he knew this wasn't healthy. This was too...Alex for it to be healthy.

It was that symbol, the circle with the X. Jay had somehow scribbled it all over: on the walls, on his hands and arms, even a few on his face. He stared blankly down at the broken, burst pen in his hands, ink stains covering a good deal of the symbols he'd scratched on his arms and hands.

"Jay? Jay, you all right? Hey, talk to me, buddy!"

Jay didn't seem to hear him. Or, at least, he didn't respond. He allowed Tim to snatch the busted pen from his limp fingers. His only reaction to Tim forcibly shaking him was to shift his dull gaze to stare emptily at his friend.

"Jay? Jay, what did you do?"

"Don't know..." His speech was slurred, like he'd just woken up. Tim barely forced down a wave of panic. He held up the pen.

"Where'd you find this?"

"It was in my hand..."

Tim tried shaking Jay again. He didn't seem to be going into another seizure or anything, but he looked like he'd fallen into some sort of trance. His skin was far too pale beneath the black scribbles of ink.

"Come on, Jay, come on, stay with me."

Jay went back to staring numbly at his hands, only to notice the scribbles there, seemingly for the first time.A flicker of panic swelled up in the empty expression. Good. He was waking up or...whatever it was you called it.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

"Tim?" Jay definitely sounded scared now. He sat rigid, stunned gaze fixed on his hands.

"Come on." Tim was surprised with the ease he was able to lift his friend to his feet and steer him toward the bathroom. Jay hardly struggled, apparently in a state of shock. "We gotta get you cleaned up. You look like the antichrist's coloring book"

Jay offered no resistance as Tim shoved his hands beneath the faucet and turned it on. He barely reacted the rush of cold water, but Tim still took the opportunity to run into the hallway and viciously fling the broken pen into the trash. It might have been lying around in the hotel room, or perhaps – though Tim dreaded to think – something had compelled Jay to use it. Why, he couldn't guess. However, Tim had a fairly certain idea regarding the how, though it wasn't the most desirable situation. Tim had struggled with that sort of thing his whole life; he could only hope Jay could cope with it better than he had if he had someone to help him.

When he returned to the bathroom, the running water hadn't roused him. Jay still seemed frozen with shock, his hands draped limply into the sink. Tim could still see the symbols he'd scrawled all over his skin, fading, but not gone. Just the sight of them, the things that represented everything wrong with their lives, caused a dark, righteous fury to manifest inside Tim. He seized the nearest towel he could find and began helping Jay wash the ink off his arms.

Jay just watched, unblinking, as the inky water swirled down the drain. Tim kept at it, wiping off every single damn symbol he could find. Jay didn't resist in the slightest the entire time; it was clear that he didn't know how to react to any of this.

Tim couldn't blame him. He knew the feeling.

Jay still seemed out of it when all the ink had been washed off, but now he was shaking. Tim feared the worst – another seizure, maybe, or a hallucination – until he realized Jay was soaking wet. Tim wordlessly pulled one of the towels off the rack and handed it to him. The action seemed to jerk Jay back into reality. He met Tim's gaze for the first time, and Tim was relieved to see that he seemed much more lucid than before.

"I gotta..." Jay shrugged and indicated the shower. There were still black runs from the ink on his face.

"Right."

Tim closed the door behind him as he left. Soon he heard the hiss of water. He managed a brief sigh of relief, but the tight fist of panic in his chest didn't fully unclench itself.

Either years of running and hiding from the strangeness of their lives had begun to take their toll on Jay, or something worse was setting in. If he could convince Jay to go to a doctor before it was too late, they might have a chance to stop it before he ended up like Tim.

Or worse.

Tim immediately dismissed that thought. He wasn't going to let that happen. As soon as Jay was able to walk without assistance, they were going straight to a doctor. Jay was stubborn, but maybe this scare had persuaded him to consider the option.

After scanning the hotel room, Tim quickly went through all the desk drawers and surfaces. There were no other pens to be found, but Tim did find a box cutter in one of the cupboards (why, he couldn't guess), which he pocketed. He definitely didn't want anything sharp lying around, especially while Jay was such a liability.

Not a liability, Tim reminded himself abruptly. He shouldn't think of the one person whom he could still consider his friend a liability. Still, he was definitely showing the danger signs of...whatever it was Tim had. He didn't think anyone had a word for it, but he was familiar enough with the symptoms.

Speaking of which...

Tim checked his bottle of medication for the umpteenth time that night. The pills were running low – he'd probably taken more than his normal dosage back at Alex's old house, but he'd been desperate and they had definitely helped stave off that thing for much longer than normal. Still, he should replenish now before something else unexpected happened.

"Jay?" Tim rapped on the closed bathroom door. "Jay, I gotta refill my prescription. You gonna be okay?"

Jay made a short noncommittal grunt that could have been mistaken for a yes. Tim vacillated, not wanting to leave his friend alone and have a repeat of the pen incident waiting for him when he returned, but on the other hand, if he didn't fill his pills now...

I'll be quick.

Tim grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried out of the room, making sure to lock it on his way out, partially because he didn't want anyone getting in. There was still the uncomfortable thought that Tim didn't want Jay getting out either.