WHAT A PRIVILEGE IT IS TO LOVE —//tldr;; the first four paragraphs detail jacob's life leading up to coming to Snowbound and is sort of a reflection of the decisions he's made that've lead him here. The last three paragraphs are about Jacob finding a poncho that his Pa made him and getting really emotional as he realizes it no longer has his scent and instead all he can smell is smoke.

Jacob knew what it was to lose everything. Not just physical things, like his family or his friends (although he'd lost too many of them to count), but a sense of self. When he was little, he'd wanted to be a police officer. His Babbo had been firmly against the idea, given the family business was steeped deep in things no police officer would be able to condone. No, Vito expected Jacob to take his place when he died. He would run the 'business' that Vito had worked had to establish but Jacob had never wanted to do that. Sure, when he was little his interests had shifted and one day he'd want to be a detective and the next he'd want to be an astronaut, but that interest had never landed on the sort of things his family participated in. When he'd moved away, a new passion grew in him. His Ma taught him everything she knew about herbs and healing and he studied everything she did for months. From stitching a wound to easing a headache, he'd watched her every move. Then his Pa had gotten sick and that'd only fueled his passion. He'd been convinced he could find a cure if he just looked hard enough, if he just read enough books, if he just tried enough treatments. But then the fire had happened and all of that was swept away in ash and smoke.

After that, he was left with a decision. Either he continued living in Jersey with Jerseyboy, he fled both cities entirely for the sake of his safety, or he went back to his Babbo for protection in New York. He'd known for a long time that Vito wanted to come home, he'd said so in the many letters they sent back and forth, and he knew that the man would take any excuse he could to get Jacob to come home and return to his old habits. He'd never done anything too bad, mostly just swindled some other con-men out of their money when they preformed on Vito's streets with permission. If that didn't change things, someone else would come in and handle the more violent matters. After he'd been kidnapped when he was young and watched as his Babbo beat off his attackers, the thought of hurting anyone seemed to terrify the boy and, while Vito expected him to defend himself he never pushed the topic. Jacob had suspicions that he felt partially responsible for what'd happened but he couldn't be sure.

After the fire, he knew that if his Babbo knew how badly he'd been hurt, he would insist on him coming back to the old business so Jacob decided to say nothing. He told him about the fire, of course, there was no way for him to hide such a big event and he'd be a fool to try covering it up, but he didn't mention his injuries or his legs. He didn't mention when he'd gotten into a fight for Jerseyboy and hurt his hips in the process, worsening his condition. He didn't tell Vito a single word. He'd told him that after everything, he was leaving to go join the groups he'd heard about in a more remote place where their competitors wouldn't be able to find him. When he arrived in Snowbound, he'd described what it was like and it's location. He'd told him he was a real doctor now. All the good things, all the ways this was a good change for him. He hadn't told him about how he'd been captured or how he still struggled to walk or how he still rarely slept and constantly smelled smoke that wasn't there. His heart twisting, he realized the only people that knew those things were Jerseyboy, who'd been there for most of it, and Pincher, who he'd known for about two weeks.

One day Vito would show up. He didn't know when or where or how but he was sure he'd just turn up out of the blue one day, as he always did. He'd drop by and maybe stay a few days. It'd be impossible to hide everything then. He'd notice Jacob's somewhat obsessive behavior, the way he double checked everything and how he threw himself into his hobbies so he could ignore his problems. He hadn't always been like that, after all. Not only that but he'd see all the bandages when he saw him and he'd ask what they were from. What would he even say to that? What answer could he give that wouldn't make it obvious he'd done everything he could to stop Vito from asking him to go home? While he didn't approve of his family's business, he still loved them. Despite everything, Jacob loved them and he didn't think he could bear losing anyone else. He knew they did terrible things, that his Pa had been targeted for a reason, that they were far from innocent and yet he found himself furious at the injustice of his death and he knew he'd feel exactly the same way if someone were to tell him his Babbo had been killed too. The only death he could be rightfully vengeful for was his Ma's. She hadn't been involved in any of it. She'd just seen a boy with a mismatched family of people he seemed to just pick up off the street and she'd been willing to be a part of it and shape him up, to show him there were other ways to get past problems and face the difficulties they all knew from living in the city.

Jacob had been dragging some blankets out into the tunnel to decorate a little bit of the tunnels he'd decided to designate for herbs and the medic team in general. He wanted it to look cozy and inviting so he didn't mind using some of the thing he'd knitted. He had far too many for his personal den anyway. Then, as he went through it all, he found some faded blue fabric and slowly pulled it out. It was a poncho, made by his Pa. Harrison had been a stern and gruff man but he'd always shown the utmost affection towards Jacob, just like Vito had when he'd lived in New York. Jacob had grabbed this the night of the fire. It was the only thing he saved. It'd been near his Pa when the fire happened and Jacob had tried desperately to get the stallion to move but it'd been useless. Jacob was much to small and Harrison was much too sick. He'd cried for him to come but his Pa just told him to go. Choking on smoke, Jacob had grabbed the poncho without a thought and then tried to get out of the building. After that was when he sustained most of his burns and by the time he exited he was barely dragging himself across the ground. He'd done his best to get to Jerseyboy and he'd gotten aid from there but those moments had been agonizing.

Jacob could remember the way the poncho used to smell. Like plants and cigarette smoke and alcohol. Most wouldn't find the last two scents comforting and most wouldn't think Jacob would, considering his strong aversion to both substances, but he found comfort in that. All the people he'd ever been close to, Jerseyboy, Vito, Harrison; they'd all smoked and drank heavily, although they all had different smells. Harrison contained an earthy undertone, Jersey smelled like cheap cologne, and Vito simply reminded him of home. He couldn't ever pin down his Babbo's smell, but perhaps that was the point. Now, though, as he lift the damaged poncho to his nose all he could smell was the ash and smoke of that night. He nearly choked on the scent and pulled it away quickly, tears beginning to form in his eyes. It wasn't enough that the fire had taken his Pa and his limbs, it had to take the only thing that still connected him to the great stallion too. It wasn't fair. Jacob knew that was a childish thought but it wasn't. Even if Harrison had done terrible things, no one deserved that fate. And what justice was there for Jacob himself? He had hardly done anything bad enough to warrant getting arrested, let alone for someone to target him.

Even as he felt the anger bubbling up in him, he did his best to push it away. Memories of losing his temper with someone sneaking behind Jerseyboy were enough to remind him why he didn't dwell on the injustice of it all. That'd been a terrifying moment and one he'd never shared with anyone, not Jersey or Pincher or Vito. No one knew how mad he'd been when he looked into the eyes of a creature that'd likely taken the life of most of his family, that was trying to also steal his brother's life. Yet, when it came down to it, he'd pulled away and shouted at him after they fought and he'd gone. The day after, Jacob had left the city. Now all he had was a burnt poncho and a guilty conscious. —A GREAT HONOR TO HOLD YOU UP

"SPEECH