He hates feeling this way. Ever since the panic attack in the gun shop last night - fuck it hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet - ever since then he's felt on edge in a way he's just never experienced. Not even on his fifth night on ER duty pulling down a double... after a double with just sleep on an empty bed between calls. That was paranoia. This is knowing they are out to get you.

"Cool, then let's get back to trying to find your wayward... Guerin," he says, knowing he's still being a dick about that, but hey. If he acts normal then it's all fine, right? Fake it until you don't break until a million pieces? Okay, he's pretty sure that's not it but still.

"You shouldn't have to worry about your dad trying to kill people," he shoots back, not wanting Alex to blame himself. "It shouldn't even have to be your job," he mutters, settling back in the seat, staring out the windshield again and not looking at Alex. Especially not as he says this.

"I couldn't... I should have, and I know it, but I couldn't..." He can't even say it. Shit, he feels so fucking weak on this, but he didn't spend all that time actually reevaluating himself as a person to just destroy people like he used to with words and actions.

Except he swore to protect others, and he isn't if Jesse leaves that hospital.

"Given he's under a doctor's care, most investigations would be minimal if he were to not wake up at some point."

He can't believe he's talking about this, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly to try and stay calm and not let that same heart racing, sick as fuck panic take over once more.

"Especially if whatever family member is in charge of his care didn't ask for one."