Chapter Text
He remembered fire. The smoke slowly suffocating him. Hitting the ground so hard his ears rang. Mumbling and whispering and begging for all of his pieces to be gathered up, stuck back together no matter how haphazardly, because it wasn't over. He wasn't done, but he couldn't do it alone anymore. So he closed his eyes, plead with thoughts that only generously resembled a prayer.
And then… nothing.
Until there was something. Someone.
With tousled curls and sparkling eyes, features of a face he hadn't seen in— well, he didn't know how long. They were there, hovering, watching with that quiet intensity that always managed to shake him to the bone. Careful, just like he remembered. Among the blurred edges of his vision and the trembling thump of his heartbeat, he could hear that voice again, too.
"Hi, Clancy."
All he could do was smile, small and faint, before sleep took him once more; easier, this time.
His second time waking was far less pleasant. The setting sun was too bright, even filtered through the canvas wall of the tent. His shirt smelled of sweat and burnt rubber. God, he was starving, he hadn't eaten since… he had no idea. Someone spoke - new and cold - and it echoed awfully through his head, making him ache even more.
"Torchbearer, will you be at debrief?"
Right. That's what they said here. Not a name, not anything meaningful, but this impersonal title. This wasn't 'Torchbearer,' this was Jo—
No, not anymore. They were fugitives. They had given up their real names years ago, left them behind with their old lives. He was Clancy, he had been, he would be. He was forced to in order to protect himself and anyone he loved. But he wouldn't call him Torchbearer, because he was more than that. He was Clancy's faith, his hope, the ghost of his past, his future, his home. He was all Clancy had left. That wasn't Torchbearer. That was… J. Not quite a name, but evidence of his importance beyond this war. One single, clipped syllable, short enough that Clancy's voice couldn't break as he said it. J.
And J had found him.
"Yes," he heard, comforting and nostalgic even in its simplicity. "Give me some time here. We can meet at sunrise."
He caught the swish of fabric, the sound of a long zipper closing, a sigh and the snap of twigs outside. Then, footsteps approached to his right. An arm reached behind his head and clicked on a lantern, its light soft and warm, barely bright enough to fill the small space. The arm fell and the man stepped back, pulling a rickety wooden stool over. Clancy could see and feel now that he himself was lying in a hammock suspended between two of the tent poles. When J took his seat, he was still tall enough to look down at Clancy. J examined his face closely with a concerned wrinkle in his brows. It felt protective, safe, gentle. Things Clancy hadn't experienced since they had separated.
"I thought I lost you," J muttered finally.
And that was it, wasn't it? He almost had. If J hadn't rescued him, he would be—
"You didn't," he responded with a grimace at the pain in his throat.
They basked in that remarkable truth for a few moments. Each other, alive, breathing and talking as if years hadn't passed. As if the last time they had seen one another, they hadn't irreversibly changed the courses of their lives. Somewhere beneath the constant weight of crippling doubt, Clancy's chest burned with possibility.
"Who found me?"
He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from him.
With a bittersweet smile, J replied, "I did."
Clancy whispered into the timid air between them - an old truth he had wanted to share since cracking his eyes open the first time.
"I always knew that when this happened, it would be you. Even while I was lying there, I could feel it. You were always going to find me."
In the following silence, Clancy uncrossed his arms from his chest. One remained there; the other, he dropped off the side of the hammock, letting it hang freely. He wiggled his fingers, regained feeling in the tips of them. They were fuzzy, almost numb, but gradually recovering.
"It looked really bad," J added, "when I got there. I waited for him to leave before... I was afraid that even those few extra seconds could've been it."
Knuckles brushed the back of his dangling hand. Every touch sent electricity tingling across the nerves there as his body continued to adjust to consciousness. Even through the hazy barrier of barely feeling, the contact soothed him. It was familiar. He hadn't known how much he missed it.
"Are you the one who put me back together, too?" Clancy asked.
"No, we, uh— We've got people for that, now, who are way better than me. But I was there, of course."
"I know. I saw you."
J's smile turned more genuine, more relieved. The way his eyes crinkled, how his nose scrunched - it reminded Clancy of a younger version of themselves. Before all of this, oblivious to the injustice and terror around them, just happy. He wondered - not for the first time - why they had to be the ones shouldering this responsibility. He wondered what it would take to only ever see J smile like that, forever.
"How are you feeling?" J pressed.
"Tired. My skin burns. I have a headache and I'm hungrier than I've ever been."
"Makes sense. But you're strong, Clance. You'll get through it."
They both nodded. Clancy could still feel the soft drag of J's hand on his own, never slowing or stopping.
"What about..?" J brought his free hand up and gestured to his head.
"Oh," Clancy mumbled. "It's quiet, right now. It won't stay that way. He always manages to get to me."
"That's okay. We'll figure it out."
Will we? he thought. He didn't dare stomp down the only hope either of them had felt in so long. That thought stayed to himself.
"You said you're hungry?" J extended.
Clancy nodded as well as he could from where he lay. The movement sent a sharp pain shooting through his spine.
"Okay. Yeah, I'll— I can get you something to eat."
The motions against his hand faltered, hesitant. That warmth retreated for a moment before he felt it again. This time, it wrapped around his fingers, cradling them lightly. His instinct was to hiss and pull away from the prickling sensation it caused, but he didn't want it to end. He bit his tongue and settled into the heat of J's hand, even if just for these brief seconds.
"I'll be right back."
Then J was releasing him, leaving him cold and alone again, his only company the spider that had woven its home in the corner of the ceiling.
He returned. Unlike when this last happened, J came back. For a minute, Clancy had thought the worst - he's gone, he left. Those were just anxieties. In time, he would have to learn to control them.
J walked back through the zippered door of the tent carrying a wooden plate. On it, a steaming chunk of bread sprinkled with sugar, and a small pile of multicolored berries that Clancy couldn't put a name to.
"Can you sit up?" asked J, somehow sounding gentler than he had all evening.
Without responding, Clancy lifted himself into a half-sitting position. Each shift of every muscle made him wince. The scratchy fabric of the hammock irritated his already searing burns. With his head now propped up, the blood rushed away from it, leaving him dizzy. He shut his eyes at the onslaught of physical feeling, the overwhelm of it all.
And J waited. He sat on that creaky stool, food in hand, and patiently watched as Clancy got his bearings. Not a word or a worry; simply there. Once he had relaxed, J quietly offered the plate to him.
"Start with this," J said in a low voice. "Let me know how you feel when you're done."
Clancy accepted it with trembling hands. He placed the dish on his lap, reaching first for the bread. It was warm, soft, fluffy. He hadn't smelled fresh bread since he was a kid. The first taste - the crunchy sweet of the sugar, burnished toast of the crust - drew a sigh from deep in his lungs. Something akin to relief, this feeling of at last, finally, after all this time washed over him. It was just bread.
It wasn't just bread.
J broke the silence with, "Medic said your skin should clear up in a week or so. Concussion symptoms will ease in a few days, as long as you keep resting."
"What are you going to do until we can pack up and move?"
"I'll be here."
Prickling fingers retrieved a red berry from its bunch. Before Clancy could put it in his mouth, he paused, glancing at J with the slightest furrow of his eyebrows.
"Here?" he asked uncertainly.
"Yeah."
"You have a camp to lead."
"And I can do it," J insisted, "while I help you recover."
He stood, catching Clancy's gaze as he did. Slowly, decisively, he tugged on the neck of his sweater, pulling it over his head. Removing the identifiable rebel green, leaving him in his long-sleeved black thermal. Stripping away the title, the honor, and the outside world in favor of himself. Turning from Torchbearer to Jo— J.
They looked at each other again, reverently; as if this could be the last time they saw one another, because they knew what that felt like now. He was taller, of course. His arms had grown with the manual labor of what his everyday life had become. Around his neck, some sort of chain hung, whatever it held hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. It really, fully struck Clancy then how long it had been since he had seen his friend. They were both different. Yet, nothing felt different. This was still J.
J took his seat once more, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, staring at the ground.
"Ty," he started in a whisper.
Clancy's heart skipped against his ribs.
"I've been waiting, you know. It had been so long, but I knew you were still out there. I never stopped waiting for you. I'm not sure who I'd be if I had."
He swallowed, averting his eyes toward the lantern in front of him.
"I can't even begin to understand what it's been like for you. If it's bad here, then— I can't imagine. I was never going to leave you alone like that. I promised you, I told you that you wouldn't have to face it on your own. I meant it. I'll always mean it."
His eyes wandered to Clancy's own, dropped to his chest, took in the sight of him laid out in the hammock. After glancing one more time at his face, J's focus fell to his own folded hands.
"I will always be the one who finds you. I will always wait for you. I will always be there."
With heavy eyelids, Clancy leaned back into the hammock, balancing the plate on his lap.
"I know," he sighed.
The world went dark once more.