AN: It's been a while but I got a request to write something for Kate/Jake inspired by the Glass Animals song 'Agnes' and as my A Levels are over I thought I would write this. Hopefully I'll continue writing and not abandon it...like I have done with everything else. Not overly sure where I'm going with this and of course it's pretty AU, but hey the show has been rested for 4 years and I've written so much for these characters, I like seeing what I end up coming up with and 'Agnes' is such a good song, I'm so glad I got sent this request. Hope you enjoy x
XxX
'You see the sad in everything - a genius of love and loneliness...'
She could have ignored it, potentially. He was a private person and the last thing she wanted to do was upset him. But she started to notice things, little things. Things that no one else did. She saw something in him, a sadness that she'd seen before. She could have ignored it. He was fine, he seemed fine. But she knew that just because someone seemed fine, it didn't mean they were. And she knew from personal experience that admitting something is wrong is the hardest part. Followed by admitting that you need help. But maybe she was just reading too far into things. Maybe he was just having a bad day? Only the bad day appeared to be lasting a week. More than a week. Two weeks. A month. Time was passing and there was something about her already stoic colleague that unsettled her. Worried her.
So she asked him one day, when his mind seemed to be somewhere else. "Are you okay?" The words had left her mouth before she had even really thought about them. It had been a reflex. So seemingly sudden and out of the blue that her words sounded foreign to her.
He looked at her, those brown eyes of his meeting her gaze. She would have once described his eyes as being full of fight, that which he used in court. Full of life, which she saw as he became fixated on something, a topic or conversation which he could talk about with such passion it always amazed her. Only now those eyes appeared empty. The fire had gone out. And the fight had seemed to be over. Like he'd 'thrown in the towel', as her father would say. For a brief moment, he looked as though he was going to tell her something, reveal something he had never had the confidence or strength to say before. But he didn't. He stopped himself and replied simply, "I'm just tired."
And with just three words her image of him shattered. The ever indestructible person she had gotten to know in the time they'd been working together. This image of someone who could deal with anything, put up with anything or anyone. Someone who never let anything hurt him. Who could take on the world blindfolded. That image shattered and for just a fleeting moment, he allowed her to see the real him, whether he realised it was what he had done or not. And she realised just how foolish she had been. No one was indestructible. Everyone had their limits. Everyone breaks. And his words had shaken something inside her. Woken memories she'd blocked out for so long. Memories of when she herself had used 'I'm just tired' as an excuse. And it scared her, because she remembered how she had been then, and she wouldn't wish it on anyone. Especially not him.
Her colleague. Her partner. Her friend. A close friend. It was difficult not to become close to someone when you spend every day together. Suddenly she saw him for what he really was, because in his excuse, he'd exposed himself. Because he was the person she spent every day with. He was the person who would make her laugh, with his sarcasm and his unflattering comments about their boss. He was the person who she could rely on to have her back, even when he was deliberately trying to annoy her for his own amusement. They'd found it so difficult to work together in the beginning and they'd stupidly believed it was because they were too different. No. They were too similar. They were stubborn and cynical and just so determined to do a good job. She didn't know when they'd fallen into a comfortable partnership with each other. Somewhere along the line. But she couldn't look at him as her colleague now. Only as the man she did genuinely care for.
Because now she saw there was an old sadness to him, one that had been present from the beginning, long before they had met. And she could tell there were demons he had been battling for so long that he didn't know any other kind of life. But why now? Why was she seeing this now? Had something happened? She wracked her brain for something, anything that could have hurt him, pushed him too far. Something that could have broken him.
Because if she was to describe this Jacob Thorne. The one who she had seen entirely, even if just for a second. There was no sarcasm. No clever comments. No harmless flirting. There wasn't much of anything. He was distant. That was how she would describe it. And that wasn't like him. He often gave the impression that he was irrationally irritated by a lot of people but he was never distant. He made a point of being present, making his voice heard. But now?
She didn't know what to do. Did she speak to him? Would he just shut her out? And then shut down completely?
"You're taking this trial by the way." He said, as some kind of passing comment as he crossed the office from his desk, handing over the file without any hesitation.
She looked at him confused. It had always been 'do you want to take this?' or 'I think it would be good if you took this one...'. Yes, he was her superior and she wasn't new at this. But there was something wrong, she knew it. As she had opened her mouth to question his decision she'd seen the look in his eyes. Pleading. He wasn't just suggesting her to lead their next trial. He needed her to lead the trial, because he couldn't.
And that had been the final straw. That's how she found herself here. Outside his house. Uninvited and probably unwanted. But what else could she do? She cared about him and she just wanted to help. She remembered the feeling. Of being extremely not okay and wishing someone would ask how you were, but also wishing no would say anything because you didn't have the strength or heart to explain.
She knocked. And waited.