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Jeremiah had been about to head to the department, to pick up a few things before he headed back to work in the coming week, when he had seen Rosalinde coming up. It was odd to see her without Autumn and it made him worry briefly.

Which turned to more concern when he was getting a stare down from the othercat.

Ultimately he had found himself following Rosalinde up the stairs to Autumn's apartment, the mews and mreows that she had thrown at him seeming to imply something was wrong. Mostly because if he was being fetched ...

The detective did not like the thought and followed her to the door of Autumn's place, the scent of flowers were heavy around it, and glanced down to Rosalinde with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't bring my lockpicking set, Rosalinde," he told her, "and I doubt think this is a kick down the door situation."

Rosalinde did not seem to miss a beat and raised up on her legs to just push against the door with a hard meow. As if saying 'The door is open foolish human!' Jeremiah let out a huff of breath, mostly because of the changes in his life when it came to othercats and the fact he knew they could talk (at least to Autumn) and reached for the door handle.

It turned, unlocked, and he opened the door up. "Autumn?" he called out, looking around immediately before stepping all the way in.

Whatever Jeremiah was expecting, it was not this. Not to see well put-together Autumn looking a mess or the flowers and mess that was around her. It was organized chaos, the kind of mess that he expected to find around himself whenever he got too into a case (but always stopped himself, always remembered there were others around him).

His carefully neutral expression shifted, blue-green eyes shifting to take in everything. "No," he said slowly, "I don't think you were." Not with her place like this, not with what looked like tear streaks on her face.

Jeremiah was looking between Rosalinde and Autumn when she spoke about it only being a few hours and caught the look he was being given. This was far more work than a few hours. The door was pushed shut behind him with a hand, the detective making his way through the flowers and the notes to come and crouch next to Autumn.

"What are you doing, Autumn?" he asked, reaching for one of the sheets of paper to read.

"Yes," Jeremiah said slowly, "you've told me already." Not he thought for a moment she had forgotten, instead he was thinking that perhaps Autumn had gotten herself in over her head. Not that this was not something she could not ultimately handle but she had pushed herself too far.

Even with the possibilities and what was hanging over their heads ...

The list of uses for lilac was in his head, glanced over and read for the notes she had made. It stopped making sense about three uses down. Neat handwriting turned not-so-neat.

"I think the one for now is enough." Jeremiah had not used it, not yet. It was still in his jacket pocket at home - something to think about how to use. Still it was not good news to find out she had been doing magic. Magic was not meant to be used here, not without ...

"Autumn," his voice was soft, the same kind of tone he would use when he was talking with Zac when he knew something was clearly wrong; it was a gentle voice, "you've done enough research for now." The detective was reaching out for her, his fingers closing briefly around her wrist to find the flutter of her pulse, before he was merely just holding her hands. "I understand what you're doing - why you're doing it - but this is doing you more harm than good now."

Jeremiah moved as Autumn sagged, let her get the words out, and sat himself beside her. Comforting was not his forte. At least it had not been before he had gotten himself a son. Never mind the changes he had gone through recently ...

"I do understand." A snort. "After all, apparently there is a portrait of someone who looks a lot like me, has my first name even, in a house here in town that died over a hundred years ago. Mysterious circumstances and everything." He still had a hand around one of hers, holding it.

"We don't know that we fail. We know that we have failed before," his voice was quiet and even. "but that it wasn't necessarily us. Do you understand that, Autumn?" His free hand was smoothed across his face, the detective watching her.

"I don't want to die either, not when I've finally gotten some of the things I want out of life." Even if the process of getting those things was started by his heart being on the line. "... and sometimes it is hard to process, to deal with, but if we are going to do this - if we are going to survive this - you cannot let it overwhelm you. That's how we fail, Autumn. We push ourselves too far, we stretch ourselves too thin. If you want to protect people, to keep them from harm, then you have to think about yourself as well and how this will affect others."

She had gone too far. Too little sleep, too much salve-making ... "You can't take the entire burden on your shoulders alone." Never mind that as long as Jeremiah was around no one would shoulder it alone.

Jeremiah let Autumn lean against her, wrapped the arm around her and held her because she clearly needed it. Had he been younger, had he not raised Zac, this would probably be a lot harder and far more foreign for him to deal with.

"Or what if Alg isn't ready?" he asked in turn, his voice low. It was not a pleasant thought to work through, but he was steady and even voiced when he spoke. "These are all things I've already thought about Autumn. If you want everyone to be safe, if you want to be ready, if you want them to be ready, then we can't let ourselves get like this. We can't push ourselves too far, we can't do things like this ..." He was clearly not just talking about Autumn, some part of it about himself as well.

"The only things we can do is prepare, work together," Jeremiah took a breath, "learn what we can and try to figure this all out. Yes, Pax saw something in your mind that we're going to fail." Algie saw Heliodora die, Jeremiah knew that if she died and Doe somehow was removed from the equation then magic would be rampant ...

"We don't know when that it is but I don't think ..." The silver-haired man let out a ragged sigh. "As much I fear that I'm somehow walking the same path I've walked before, that I'm possibly making the same mistakes and heading towards my death, I am going to believe that this path will be different." Then, because he thought of it. "... and also that for all that Pax saw you, it wasn't this you. Pax doesn't know what is in store for you because it hasn't happened yet."

Jeremiah gave her a reassuring squeeze of his arm before he was pulling it away. A moment later he was offering her - like the gentleman he could be but was not most times - his handkerchief to use for a moment if she needed.

"No thanks necessary, Autumn." A familiar wry smile was on his face, if only because sometimes the way she talked - bits of her demeanor - made him think of younger years and himself. "You should get to bed but you should probably feed Rosalinde first." Another look to the cat that had lead him here.

He was pushing himself up, ignoring the twinge in his own back and the spike of chill, and standing properly once more. "I'll text you tomorrow evening to check up on you and remind you." Jeremiah fully expected her to sleep at least for a while.

"... and we should probably discuss some of this in the near future." A hand was gestured around to the room. "You tell me about this magic you're doing and I'll see about teaching some of what I've learned about magic in other ashdown."