That's the worst part of it. He knows that he believes it. He wouldn't be saying it if he didn't. He believes that somehow, incredibly, Tim is worth this effort. That twenty-four hours of him being down for the count, of him getting what is likely to be the only good rest in his entirely lifetime, if it even counts, is just too steep a price for him to pay.

"You said that you can." He can. Doesn't want to, but can. "Just let one more slide. I - I can't go back there. I'm not going back there."

He's always been poised on this edge. It's only now that he's met this kind of immediate resistance, in the actual act itself, that he realizes -

He has no idea what he's supposed to do.