Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tyler is standing at the edge of the Bandito camp.

The last time anyone saw him was almost three months ago. Josh still remembers it like it had only just happened, the images returning to him night after night. A tormented sleep that won’t let him rest, forcing him to see what hurts, because letting it hurt is better than letting himself forget.

Being there with Tyler, sitting next to him around the fire. Leaving for what felt like a moment, only to return to find skid marks all along the dirt, claw marks everywhere as Tyler tried to use his hands to stop himself from being dragged away.

They took him back. Nico took him back.

Josh had cried, screamed, ran all throughout the camp and the forest trying to bring him back. Howling his pain into the woods in hopes that somehow, Tyler would hear him and make it home. That their connection would be stronger than the hands around Tyler’s neck, dragging him in a chokehold back to the city he hates so much.

Tyler didn’t return.

Josh ordered over a dozen searches of the city, of Tyler’s old apartment, of everywhere he could think of. Sneaking into Dema night after night against the advice of literally everyone, giving everything he had into getting his best friend back. Into getting him away from that horrid place.

They couldn’t find him, that’s what everyone was telling him, they couldn’t find him. We can’t find him, Josh, and we know you’re not okay, but this needs to stop. Like the rest of the Banditos were somehow okay with leaving Tyler behind. Like it didn’t matter that Josh failed to protect him. Like Josh is wrong for trying to fix where everything went wrong.

It’s been three months, and they didn’t find him. It’s been three months, and Tyler is standing at the edge of the Bandito camp, alive.

What hurts even more is that Josh didn’t realise at first. It took another Bandito popping her head into Josh’s tent with veiled fear on her face, vaguely telling him to come outside.

“You need to come out,” she’d said, all apprehension and unease. “There’s something there.”

Maybe it was the fear in her eyes, or the subtle urgency that begged Josh to listen, but he did. Left his workbench for the first time in at least eight hours, leg joints cracking as he stood.

He’d reached the camp’s perimeter, and now, there he is.

Josh had pictured their reunion going a number of different ways. Most often, it involved Josh breaking into Dema under the cover of night, Tyler waiting for him as they ran out together, hugging and smiling. Other times, when the anxiety got to him, Tyler would be crying instead, hiding in Josh’s arms as blood dribbled all over them. On his worst nights, Josh imagined Tyler’s body being stiff, rotten. Yellow eyes and missing teeth.

Yet, Tyler isn’t smiling. He’s not laughing or crying. Instead, Tyler is just standing there, staring vacantly right through him, with the blackest mark on his neck that Josh has ever seen.

“Tyler?” he says at first, feeling the fear, the disbelief. His voice feels thin, tiny compared to the open clearing, the impossibility before him.

Tyler doesn’t react. He just keeps staring, and staring, face blank in a way that feels too unnatural to be from shock.

“Tyler?” he repeats, drawing closer. The disbelief is turning into shock, which is turning into hope, and Josh can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. “Hey, hey, Tyler. Hey. You’re here?”

His friend doesn’t move. Barely even blinking.

Josh becomes all too aware of how everyone else has stepped back, giving them space, letting Josh deal with what he needs to while watching from the sidelines. Seeing their leader, who’s been in this for years, suddenly break at the loss of a few months’ contact.

“Tyler,” Josh says, standing directly in front of him now, and then again, “Tyler.”

Tyler blinks, slow. His eyes are looking straight through Josh, unfocused. The smile slowly fades from Josh’s face.

“Ty,” he whispers, afraid, and slowly reaches a hand up to Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler shudders at the contact, eyes twitching and breath hitching, but still doesn’t look at Josh.

Josh turns his head, nervous to take his eyes off him. A dozen or so Banditos are still watching them. “Hey, hey,” he calls out to them, and something in his stomach goes cold at the way Tyler doesn’t react to his raised voice. “Hey, someone get Jenna!”

They dash off. Josh adjusts his grip on Tyler’s arm when his friend starts to pitch into him, legs stiff and uncoordinated. Josh catches him, because of course he does, and manages to get Tyler’s feet under him again. Still, Josh keeps his hands locked around Tyler’s armpits, supporting the frail stance that he doesn’t trust at all.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not getting a response. Tyler’s eyes are still stuck in that daze, all glassy and unseeing. One shallow breath after another.

“Ty, come on,” he tries urging, nudging him as they stand. Nothing.

There’s a commotion in the distance, Banditos calling his and Jenna’s names as they bring their medic over. Usually, Josh would feel comforted at the thought of Jenna being there to help, but right now he can’t help but feel scared. Because he can’t see any major wound. Because he’s not sure what they’re going to be able to do. Because Tyler is back home, but he doesn't know how to fix whatever this is.

He starts to gently pull on Tyler’s arm, trying to lead him towards help, but his legs are stiff, unsteady. Josh notes the slight limp, but it’s not enough to explain whatever’s happening right now. Still, Tyler follows Josh’s nudges like a lost lamb, aimless as he lets himself be led wherever.

Josh is about to use the word ‘drag’ to describe their motion, then stops himself before the thought can fully take form. It’s still enough to make Josh compare himself to Nico dragging Tyler through the undergrowth, kicking and screaming. Still enough to make that violent pit start churning in his stomach.

The black ink on Tyler’s neck is so hard to ignore. Thick streaks, drowning out any trace of the skin underneath. It may look harmless, but Josh knows better.

The Banditos catch up to them, Jenna appearing and helping Josh keep Tyler upright. She’s saying something, words that don’t quite make it through the ringing in his ears, and all Josh can look at is the paint on Tyler’s neck.

His head lolls slightly, unused to its own weight, exposing the marks more. Darker than the murky river at night. Darker than the bottomless pupils of Nico’s empty eyes.

Josh holds Tyler tighter, nearly wincing at how thin he’s gotten. The ink wrapped around his throat. The fear comes first, always, but rage is a close second.

Nico did this.

-–—–-

“They smeared him,” Jenna explains, pulling out a bottle of water.

“What do we do?” Josh asks, sitting right next to the bed they’ve put Tyler in for the time being. He’s sitting up, leaning against the wall with a blanket over his shoulders and not an ounce more aware than when he showed up.

Jenna smiles sadly. “There isn’t a whole lot that can speed it up. We can keep him safe and comfortable, but that’s still just waiting. The smear has to fade on its own.”

Josh can’t stop staring at the black void that is Tyler’s neck. “I’ve never seen one so…”

Jenna doesn’t say anything, but Josh knows she hasn’t either. They’re both lost.

Every few minutes, one of them will try getting Tyler’s attention, either by taking his hand or saying his name, followed by a Tyler, can you hear me? Not a twitch or sound comes back. Eyes open, gazing at nothing. It’s like he can’t hear or see them at all.

He’d reacted briefly when Josh first touched his arm outside, but now he’s become unresponsive to that, too. Hands cold and pale. Josh wonders aloud if he can feel anything at all.

“He has to,” Jenna argues back, trying and failing to get Tyler to take the water bottle. “He walked all the way here. He has to have some awareness.”

“But not enough to see us?”

Jenna is silent.

Finally, Tyler’s hand closes around the bottle in some half-formed muscle memory, but he makes no move to drink it. His hand just hovers there, icy and rigid.

“Are you thirsty, Ty?” Josh tries prompting to no avail. “You walked all the way here with nothing on you. There’s water in your hand, if you want something to drink. You’re safe now, okay?”

Part of him wonders how much of it is psychological and how much the smear genuinely impacts Tyler’s ability to function. Josh has never been smeared before, and he hopes to hell that he won’t ever have to, but it’s so unnervingly bizarre to see Tyler so… empty.

Usually, Tyler talks for hours until his voice gives out. Usually, Tyler jokingly pesters everyone because it’s his form of humour. Usually, Tyler doesn’t stop for anything, and now he’s sitting on a cot in the med tent, awake but not moving.

“You’re safe,” Josh repeats, trying to believe that it will help. He pulls the thick blanket tighter around Tyler’s shoulders; even if he isn’t shivering, he’s still freezing.

It’s silent for a few moments, save for Tyler’s quiet breaths.

Jenna’s voice is nervous when she next speaks, “I haven’t seen one like this before. Not one so– catatonic. Usually people are afraid, awake but afraid. They don’t know who or where they are but they’re still talking and looking around. He’s just– just–”

“Asleep,” Josh finishes. Tyler shows no signs of hearing them.

“It’s still going to take days to fade, at least,” Jenna continues, more cautious now. “He’s not, he can’t look after himself. He would’ve been walking out there in the cold for hours, and now he won’t even drink. This is– it’s–” She sounds afraid to say it. “It’s bad, Josh.”

“I’m staying with him,” Josh says without hesitating.

“Josh–”

“I’m staying with him.” There’s no argument. “I can’t– I’m not going anywhere else. This all happened because I didn’t watch him close enough in the first place. I’m not letting it happen again. I can’t– I can’t.”

He can’t lose Tyler again. He’s got him back now, but has he really? This Tyler is a smeared, vacant shell. Lifeless, unresponsive. Only alive because his shallow breaths and the thump thump thump beneath the painted arteries in his neck tell them that he must be.

“Okay,” Jenna says, soft now. One look at her misty eyes, and Josh knows she gets it. She does.

“I’m not leaving him,” Josh restates like a pact he needs to solidify. To himself, to Tyler. To everyone and no one.

“Okay,” the medic repeats.

They’d only taken off his mud-soaked boots before helping him onto a bed and trying to ease him back to awareness, but he’s still wearing dirtied Dema clothing. Shirt slightly damp with rain that has yet to dry, pants scuffed and torn at the knees.

He can’t be comfortable like this. Josh has no clue as to what extent Tyler’s aware of it, but that doesn’t mean they should just leave him like this.

A couple Banditos are still loitering outside in case they need any help. Josh calls out to one, giving a verbal list of things to retrieve from his and Tyler’s tent. There’s no way Josh is going there himself right now.

Once they’re back, items passed over before giving them privacy, Jenna and Josh slowly start to manoeuvre Tyler out of the thin, ragged Demawear. The water bottle is put aside; Tyler didn’t drink from it.

They find the source of his limp from before; a nasty cut just below his knee.

“I don’t think anything else is damaged,” Jenna says, inspecting it in case Tyler hurt a ligament or a bone or something else invisible that Josh doesn’t have much knowledge on. “It’s probably just the pain. A wound like that wouldn’t feel nice to walk on.”

“You think he can feel pain?” It shouldn’t sound hopeful.

As if to test it, Jenna gently swipes the antiseptic over Tyler’s leg. There’s no sound, no change in his face, but his leg twitches. It’s so eerie, seeing how little he reacts. Like the smear physically won’t let him.

“He can feel it,” Jenna confirms, then another test, “Tyler, can you hear me? Look up here, please.”

Josh squeezes Tyler’s hand when his eyes remain far away. Tyler doesn’t squeeze back.

He’s not sure how long it takes, but Josh helps Jenna clean Tyler up, keeping him steady as the medic tends to his minor wounds. They get him cosied into fresh, soft clothing, being extra mindful of his sore leg. Two pairs of socks on his bruised feet. The giant yellow hoodie that Tyler always said was his favourite. Josh swaddles him up in it, pulls over the thick blanket, still sitting up but resting against Josh now.

Neither Josh nor Jenna say anything about the new marks on Tyler’s body. Josh refuses to process it just yet.

“Come back to me,” he whispers into Tyler’s ear, praying for a response he knows won’t come.

-–—–-

Sunset comes and goes. Josh’s sense of time is all frayed, twisted. It has been ever since Nico pried Tyler away from him. Even now, the return hasn’t made it any easier. If Tyler’s even ‘returned’ at all.

Jenna left him and Tyler alone for a bit, saying she had other things to do now that Tyler was stable with Josh. He feels nervous, being left with Tyler like this. It’s all he’s wanted for the past three months, but now he’s not sure that he’s good enough to keep him safe. Not sure if Tyler would even want to be with him, after he failed last time.

“You’re doing great,” Jenna had tried reassuring him, picking up on his probably very obvious anxiousness. “All he needs is love and comfort right now. He’s lucky to have you, you know.”

Josh shakes his head, but keeps holding Tyler until well past after Jenna leaves.

“I missed you so much,” he says, feeling the words echo in the empty tent.

Tyler’s only response is slow, soft breaths. His eyes keep wandering the tent, never quite landing on anything.

“You’re here now,” he murmurs, hugging Tyler tighter. “I’m not gonna let anything happen ever again. I’ve got you, okay?”

He means it, but the words still sting. He won’t let anything happen again. But, something already did happen, and Josh wasn’t there to stop it.

And now Tyler’s neck is the darkest shade of black Josh has ever seen, and he can’t even focus his eyes through the weight of the smear.

Josh pulls the cuffs of Tyler’s hoodie further down his wrists, burying his hands in the fabric. He’s still so cold, the mustard yellow scarily bright against his pale skin.

He’s secretly glad that this is Tyler’s favourite hoodie. If anything, hopefully the overwhelming yellow will help keep him safe. A big, fuzzy shield against a world that’s done so much to hurt him.

“Are you thirsty?” he tries asking again, finding the unused water bottle from before. “Come on, you haven’t had anything to drink. Here, I’ll help.”

Josh doesn’t know the exact number of hours since Tyler appeared at the edge of the woods, disoriented and unresponsive, but it’s been enough for him to be concerned about him getting dehydrated. The walk to camp is almost four hours on a good day, and Josh has a feeling it took longer than that.

When was the last time Tyler had water? Food? Jenna said the smear would take a few days to fade, but when did the smear even happen?

Josh holds the open bottle up to Tyler’s mouth, but without any reflexes to help him, Tyler just continues to sit there, staring off into space. Josh worries that if he tilts the bottle back, he’s just going to make Tyler choke.

“Come on,” he mutters to no one, using his other hand to guide Tyler’s jaw. Carefully moving his bottom lip, and no, no– this isn’t going to work. Tyler is as malleable as clay right now. If Josh tries pouring water down his throat, he’s going to drown in it.

Josh sighs, more out of worry than anything else, and puts the bottle aside again.

He can hear everyone outside. Eating dinner, most likely. Josh is hungry, but he won’t leave Tyler like this. Not when they need each other.

At some point, Mark pokes his head into the tent. “Hey, man.” His voice is soft, careful. “I brought food. Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Josh mumbles, rubbing circles into Tyler’s limp hand.

Mark closes the flaps behind him, blocking off the cold breeze. He’s holding a bowl of stew in one hand, still steaming. The hearty smell wafts towards him, and Josh’s empty stomach growls in anticipation.

“I got you this,” Mark says, setting the food down on a side table. “I was uh, gonna get another one, but Jenna said…”

Josh nods, sitting up further and adjusting Tyler’s weight against him so that he can eat.

The deputy seems nervous to speak, clearly trying not to stare at Tyler. “How… how is he?”

For some reason, it’s that moment that Josh realises he’s fighting back tears. “I don’t–” he clears his throat, voice breaking, “I don’t know.”

Mark takes note of how Tyler’s entire body weight is resting on Josh, muscles barely even working to keep his head upright. “Can he hear us?”

“I don’t know,” Josh repeats miserably, and oh, his vision is all blurry. “I just– he can’t–”

“It’ll get better,” Mark says definitively.

“I know,” Josh mutters. “I just– I hate that he needs to go through this at all. I tried giving him water, and he– he can’t even–”

The deputy puts his hand on Josh’s shoulder, eyes full of sympathy. “He’s got you, Josh. It’s going to be okay.”

“I hate this. I hate what they did to him.”

“I know. We all know.”

The words make something in Josh feel terribly selfish in that moment. “How’s– you’re– what about the camp?”

Mark blinks. “What?”

“The camp,” Josh gets out in a rush, barely fighting off sobs. “I’m supposed to be the Torchbearer. I’m supposed to lead us, and I haven’t even been able to leave here since–”

“Josh,” Mark says seriously. “Stop. It’s okay. I’m looking after it. You stay and work through this, alright? Tyler needs you more than the camp does. I can handle everything. Just stay here and make sure the two of you are alright.”

He can barely form words. “I– I, I–”

“Eat,” Mark tells him, pointing at the untouched bowl. “Jenna said she’s coming back after she’s done with food, too. Then he’ll have both of you.”

“She’s been much better than me,” Josh grits.

Mark slaps his shoulder, though there is a genuine frustration to his eyes. “That’s for Tyler, because he can’t do it himself right now. Tyler, if you’re hearing this, then you gotta tell me how many I missed later. I’ll gladly slap Josh a hundred times, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Stop it,” Josh forces out, struggling to wrap his feelings up.

“Eat,” Marks says again, before pointing at Tyler. “Then him.”

Josh nods, defeated. He just wants Mark to leave them alone.

The stew is good, at least. Acting as the bare-minimum distraction from his own thoughts, the slightest comfort after a trainwreck of an afternoon. Josh realises with a fresh wave of tears that he’s upset not just because Tyler is smeared and unable to do anything, but also because Tyler can’t comfort him back.

Is it selfish? Absolutely. But three months of waiting, of praying, of trying and failing and trying again, and Tyler’s been robbed of his ability to tell Josh that he’s okay. That they’re both okay.

There’s no reassurance, no affirmation. No I missed you too or we’re okay now or you found me. Josh can cry and hug Tyler with all that he has, but Tyler will not hug back.

Josh’s tears keep dripping into the stew. He doesn’t care.

He has the briefest thought of trying to get Tyler to eat a spoonful as well, but the idea is dismissed before he can even truly consider it. Tyler wasn’t even lucid enough to swallow water earlier; there’s no way he’ll be able to chew food.

Josh nearly sobs again with the realisation of how helpless they are. If Tyler can’t eat or drink in this state, what can they do to help him?

He saves the worries for when Jenna returns. Tyler might be catatonic, but he doesn’t need to hear Josh freaking out for any longer than he has to. Josh is meant to be creating a welcoming environment, for god’s sake, not scaring Tyler further into dissociation with his crying.

“Any change?” Jenna asks when she returns, gently turning Tyler’s head from side to side to get a better look at the smear.

“None,” Josh mumbles back. He’s pretty sure Jenna can tell he was crying.

“We shouldn’t let him get too dehydrated. If he’s not able to drink, I’ll have to IV him.”

“What about food?” Josh asks, helpless. “He’s… he’s so thin. They weren’t feeding him. We can’t just let him starve now that he’s home.”

Jenna bites her lip. “I’ll see what I can do about getting some sort of feeding tube set up. But that might not be until tomorrow.”

“He hasn’t eaten all day,” Josh weeps.

The medic looks genuinely sorry. “I know. But sleeping will help it fade faster.”

“I tried to get him to drink again,” he admits. “I was scared he was going to choke so I backed off.”

“It’s probably a good thing you did,” Jenna muses. “If he couldn’t shiver from the cold, then I’m not confident he has many other reflexes, either. He might not have been able to cough it out.”

Josh’s blood stops flowing. That does not make him feel better.

Jenna catches his panic. “I mean, he’s clearly still got some. He’s breathing and blinking. He can hold his body upright, he was walking when you found him. It’s not like he’s unconscious.”

Josh doesn’t say anything. He just keeps drawing circles into Tyler’s skin.

“I’ll get that IV going, and then we’ll all get some sleep, okay?”

He nods.

-–—–-

To Josh’s horror, Tyler does not sleep. He can’t sleep.

The smear has sunk in its foul claws, seemingly forcing Tyler to stay awake. They’ve blown out the lanterns, laid him down on the cot, everything. The rest of the camp has already gone to bed. Every so often the distant calls of an owl will cut through the quiet, as if to remind Josh that they should be asleep.

But he can’t bring himself to rest. Not when he knows that Tyler will be awake, forced to exist like this the whole night.

Jenna’s already gone off to bed, trusting Josh enough to watch Tyler. He’d go get her, but he knows there’s nothing she can do to help this. They just have to wait for the smear to fade more. To fade enough so that he can eat, drink, sleep. The bare fucking minimum.

Even though it’s dark, Josh can still see the faint glimmer of Tyler’s wide, empty gaze. They’re in the bed together, facing each other with Tyler pulled into Josh’s chest at an attempt at sharing body heat. It’s cold outside, and this has proven to be the only effective way to get Tyler to warm up.

The yellow hoodie swallows him up. Blankets around them trapping the warmth. It’s cosy, comfortable, but it can’t thaw that cold fear in his chest.

“Tyler,” Josh whispers to the space between them, looking for a twitch, a blink, anything.

Tyler’s blank eyes look right through him, body lifeless as Josh plays with his fingers.

“Tyler,” he says again, squeezing his hand. No squeeze back.

How long will he stay like this? If Tyler can’t sleep, then how long until his body gives in to the exhaustion? The hunger? Tyler still needs to heal his remaining wounds. The IV may help, but it can’t fix everything. Their medical stores only hold so much.

“I’m so sorry,” Josh breathes.

Sorry for letting Nico take him. Sorry for not getting him out. Sorry for being unable to stop the Bishops from torturing Tyler’s brain, his body. Sorry for not being there.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he says, impossibly quiet. Tyler doesn’t say anything back.

They lay there, breathing together, for what could be hours. The wind rustles against the tent, the faint smell of rain in the air, and Josh has never felt more alone. Tyler is right there, but he’s alone.

He’s so tired. He can’t fight off sleep for much longer.

Experimentally, Josh lifts his eyes to Tyler’s face one last time, looking for the best friend he’s been trying to find for months. Something broken stares back.

“Clancy,” Josh whispers.

Tyler shivers.

He pulls him in closer, being careful of the needle in his arm. Tyler melts into his chest, powerless, letting Josh move him however he wants.

“I’m here, Ty, I’m here,” he breathes into Tyler’s hair. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Tyler’s eyes stay wide, unseeing. Not closing for more than a second, while Josh is fighting to keep his own open.

“Please sleep,” he adds. Tyler doesn’t.

-–—–-

Josh takes him to the hot springs the next day.

As much as they’d tried to wipe off most of the dirt and grime the day before, Tyler is still admittedly filthy. He smells like smoke, blood, and a couple other things that Josh is too afraid to name.

Part of Josh hopes it’ll be a nice sensory experience for him, too. Feeling the warm water after spending so long trapped inside a cement tower. Seeing all the greenery, listening to the birds. It will help. It will, Josh tells himself.

Tyler lets Josh walk him there without any trouble. He’s still limping slightly, the wound on his leg likely bothering him. Jenna said she gave him a painkiller through the IV, and while it seems to be helping, there’s still an unevenness to his gait that’s hard to miss.

The medic took the needle out so Josh could take him outside, but Josh knows without anything being said that it’ll be going back in later. The smear is just as dark as it was yesterday.

“Look where we are, Ty. Been a while since we’ve been to the hot springs together.” Josh tries not to sound sullen as he says it. “I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

Tyler doesn’t show a clue of understanding where he is. He only moves his limbs where Josh places them, breathing in, and out, and in again in a monotonous cycle. But Josh knows it’s better for both of them to believe that Tyler can hear him, so he spends as much time as he can reassuring him, keeping him filled in on what’s going on.

They’re out here alone, but Josh still feels awful about having Tyler so exposed like this. Sitting by the edge of the spring in nothing but his underwear, all bony joints and pale, scarred skin.

Josh knew Tyler’s body well enough before he was taken to know that nearly every single mark is new.

He tries not to think about it. He really does. Just focusing on the rushing water, stripping himself down as well before helping Tyler into the shallow basin. His eyes dart a little at the sensation of the warm water, and then it’s back to blank nothingness.

“Water’s nice, hey Ty?” Josh forces a smile. Tyler blinks at the water without a visible thought in his head.

They sit on the ledge so that the water nearly reaches their shoulders. Josh takes his time, carefully washing Tyler’s hair and trying not to startle him each time he pours water over him.

Still, those dangerous thoughts creep back in.

Can’t help but stare at the new scars, contemplating the suffering that Tyler went through to get them. Knowing he had to survive nearly three months in that tower, and now this dreaded smear, just to make it back home.

Every time they went into the city, searching for him night after night, they could never find him. Of course, they’d figured out he was most likely stuck in the towers, unable to be reached without a proper plan, but they’d never gotten close enough for any of them to work.

Tyler’s been taken before, they all have, but something about this time screams intentional. Nico did this to him specifically. Nico came to camp that night and only took Tyler, when he could have burned down the whole camp then and there.

Josh is beyond careful as he cleans the delicate skin of Tyler’s scarred back. Nico did this for a reason.

Was it just to hurt Tyler? Was it to hurt Josh? Was it just to satisfy whatever sadistic, psychopathic tendencies Nico needed to fulfill?

He doesn’t even know what Nico did to Tyler. Yes, there are marks all over his body, but that’s just what he can see. Not everything leaves a scar, and some scars are invisible. With the smear overriding Tyler’s consciousness, Josh has no clue what the state of his mind is right now.

It’s all guesswork. He knows Reisdro has a thing for whippings, and that Sacarver uses bloodletting, and Andre favours sensory deprivation. Listo burns his defectors. He knows from his own experience that Lisden uses social isolation, and he’s heard from Mark about Vetomo and waterboarding. But he really doesn’t know what Nico is like when he snaps.

Just from looking at Tyler, he knows he experienced at least three of those things. And that’s just what he can see.

“Almost done,” Josh tells him, helping to tilt Tyler’s head back enough to rinse out his hair. A bit of water splashes on his face, and Tyler flinches, blinking out of reflex.

A simple reaction like that shouldn’t have the edges of Josh’s mouth perking up, but it does.

“Sorry,” he says anyway. “Just a little bit of water. You’re okay.”

Part of him wants to try cleaning Tyler’s neck, too, but he’s nervous at how Tyler might react. If he even reacts at all, that is. But Josh knows that if he does, it wouldn’t be nice for either of them.

Tyler might think he’s being smeared again. That, along with any other triggering reminders of the city, is the last thing that Josh wants to bestow upon him.

He helps the two of them out, drying Tyler off with a towel he brought before doing himself. Tyler still isn’t himself by any means, but he looks slightly more… awake than before. It could just be the gloss of the water, or Josh’s hopeful imagination, but the paint seems the slightest bit fainter.

Yet when Josh tries to get his attention for the umpteenth time with a “Tyler?” there’s no response. It’s hard to suck up the disappointment.

Still, he manoeuvres Tyler back into his comfy clothes, fluffing up his hood and trying to ignore the way he has to position him like a stiff doll. But at least he looks fresher, clean. His brown hair is all poofy again, and aside from the bruised, exhausted state of his sleepless face, he looks nearly cared for.

“Come on,” Josh says once he’s dressed himself, easing Tyler back up. “Home time.”

Jenna is waiting for them once they return, already set up to place another IV once Josh settles him back into bed.

“How was it?” she asks.

“Good,” Josh answers mostly honestly. “Flinched a little at the splashing.”

“That’s good,” she nods. “Means we’re getting some sensory awareness back.”

Some. Not all. Not any of how it’s supposed to be.

“How much longer?” Josh can’t help but ask.

Jenna sighs. “We really don’t know. No more than a few days.”

Tyler’s arms are awkwardly wrapped around himself, suspended in an aborted half-motion that he never quite finished. Josh gently pries them back down. The hoodie is doing a good job at hiding how skinny he’s become, but the hollowness is still all too visible in his face.

“Can he eat something?” Josh blurts. “I just– I don’t like the idea of him sitting here hungry. Please.”

“We can try the water again,” Jenna says, rummaging around. “If that works, then he can have liquid food. Otherwise he’ll need a tube. I can do it, it just won’t be the most… pleasant thing for him.”

“Right, okay.” Josh nods.

The medic brings over a water bottle, already uncapped. “I’ll do it, just in case.”

Josh knows that’s smart, considering he’d have no clue what to do if something went wrong. Still, he can’t help the protective flare that rises up within him, begging and barking to keep Tyler safe.

Instead, Josh nods and sits behind Tyler, making sure he stays upright and where Jenna wants him.

“Tyler, hey, can you see I’ve got water here? Tyler?”

Josh’s hands tighten around him. It hasn’t gotten any easier, seeing their attempts at communication going completely unheard.

He wonders what it’s like. If Tyler really can hear them, but is physically unable to respond. Or, if Tyler’s not present at all, then where is he?

Jenna snaps her fingers right in front of Tyler’s face, startling Josh out of his thoughts. “What the hell?”

“He blinked.”

“Do you think it’s enough?”

Jenna sounds hopeful, even if she doesn’t look it. “We’re about to find out.”

Josh can tell that Jenna is being incredibly careful. They don’t know how active Tyler’s reflexes are, don’t know if he’ll swallow, if he’ll reject it, if he’ll keep breathing it all in without a hint of awareness. They can only tip less than a teaspoon of water into his mouth and hope for the best.

“Nearly there,” Jenna says, deep in concentration. “You need to swallow, okay? If you can hear me, Tyler, swallow.”

Josh cranes his head over Tyler’s shoulder to see what she’s doing. Hand on Tyler’s jaw, trying to ease the liquid down. For a moment, Josh is bracing for the worst, sure he’s about to choke, before an audible gulp breaks the silence.

Josh nearly gasps in relief. “Thank the gods.”

Jenna’s smiling, too. “Good, that was good, Tyler.”

Tyler doesn’t acknowledge their praise, but he’s still breathing, and his lungs are free of fluid.

“Again,” Jenna reaches for the bottle. Trying a little bit more this time, testing the limits without pushing him over the edge.

Tyler swallows again.

“Doing great, Ty,” Josh murmurs from behind, needing Tyler to know.

“Okay,” Jenna says, backing off and putting the water down. “Okay, so he’s improving. I’ll see if there’s a broth or purely liquid soup that he can have. We’ll keep the IV, just because he’s not at the stage where he can consume enough orally yet, but this is already looking better.”

“Thank you,” Josh mumbles out, not sure what else to do but keep holding his friend.

Jenna leaves, and Josh busies himself by playing with Tyler’s hair.

“Thanks for drinking that water,” he says quietly. “I bet it was nicer than through the needle. I don’t know if you heard Jenna just then, but she’s gonna get you something to eat. Or I guess, more like drink, but you don’t really drink soup, I guess.” He pauses. “I dunno. What do you think?”

Tyler doesn’t answer. Josh breathes out through his nose.

“I meant it when I said you’re doing great. I can’t imagine how scary this all must be. Thanks for holding out, and for trying. I know I wouldn’t be able to do the same, if I were in your shoes.”

Gently, he grabs onto Tyler’s hand. It twitches in his grip.

“Come back to me,” Josh whispers.

Tyler keeps staring at the air. His hand stays limp.

-–—–-

Somehow, they get Tyler through the process of eating, though it takes far too long and with far too many close calls.

“It’s not much, but at least it’s something,” Jenna compromises. “We’ll have to work him back to eating proper meals once he’s better, but it’s safer not to risk things for now.”

“Okay,” Josh mumbles. He feels so helpless.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“I think we’re good for a while,” he says after a moment’s thought. “We’ve got water and snacks. Just gonna keep him company.”

“That’s good. You being there could help ease the transition process. I’ve seen how having familiar faces around has helped people before.” Jenna doesn’t mention how the snacks are purely for Josh, and he’s grateful. “You’re doing a great thing, Josh.”

He nods in response. He doesn’t have the words to deny that he’s doing enough.

They’re left alone, and then it’s just Josh with Tyler slotted against his side. Gazing emptily up at the ceiling, unaware of the turmoil in Josh’s heart.

Really, he feels awful over having to caretake for Tyler like this. He knows Tyler would hate it; being so helpless, relying on Josh to look after his most basic human needs. Part of him hopes Tyler isn’t lucid enough to remember all this later, but at the same time, the thought that he’s sitting in a tent with no one but himself right now is so much worse.

Tyler would hate seeing himself being spoon-fed by Josh, but at least he’d be feeling at all. Josh is starting to wish that Tyler would do anything, just so that he’s not so silent and unmoving.

“Sorry you’ve been stuck in the med tent this whole time,” he says just to fill the silence. “I’ve been thinking about asking Jenna if we can move over to our tent. Might be more familiar, more comfortable there. What do you think? You want our own bed again?”

Tyler’s slow breaths are the only form of response he has.

“I’ve been looking after your things, while you were…” he trails off. “Your uke is still there. And I haven’t read your journal, so don’t even worry about that. Mainly I just… I really missed you, Ty.”

He pulls Tyler further into him, careful not to hurt him or disrupt his IV.

“I’ve been so scared. We couldn’t find you, even after looking everywhere. I– I really wanted to get into those towers, to pull you out of that horrible place, but I couldn’t– I couldn’t–” his voice trips over itself, throat closing up. “I’m so sorry, Ty. I should’ve been there sooner.”

Tyler blinks slow, clueless. Josh sniffs.

“I should’ve been there.”

-–—–-

Josh tries making the med tent dark again in hopes that Tyler will sleep. It doesn’t work.

He can block most of the light, but he can’t block the noise. Can’t block the dark poison staining Tyler’s skin from doing all of this.

Tyler looks so unbelievably tired. His face is gaunt, skin discoloured and areas under his eyes far too purple. He’s exhausted, drained from the smear’s forced consciousness that’s been going on for who knows how long, and Josh just wants him to finally get some rest.

He tries rocking against him. Gently petting his hair. Even humming to him as quietly as his voice will allow, fearful of someone else hearing.

When none of that works, he talks. Babbles away and talks about nothing for hours and hours. Trying to give something for Tyler to latch onto, something to ground him amidst the smear’s dissociative effects. Josh knows it won’t fix it, not really, but he doesn’t want Tyler to float in the nothingness by himself. They have to stay together.

“Do you remember last summer, when you tried tricking me into falling in the lake?” Josh starts, a bitter smile on his face despite the positive memory. “You said you wanted to jump in together, but then when we counted down and ran to the edge you stopped at the last moment and let me flounder forwards like an idiot.” He huffs, reliving it in his head. “I remember when I came up you were laughing so hard that you didn’t even see Mark behind you. He shoved you in so hard that you were trying to get water out of your ears for the next week. You were so mad when it happened, too, but Mark and I just kept giggling about how you looked like a wet cat.”

Tyler doesn’t move, still all tucked up how Josh left him. If Josh isn’t looking at his face, he can just pretend he’s sleeping.

Josh twirls a piece of Tyler’s hair. “You tried hiding caterpillars in my shirts for weeks after that. And in my hair.” He can’t help but sigh fondly, “You little freak.”

He takes a sip of water. Eats from the bowl of wild nuts that Jenna left out for him. Manages to coax Tyler into taking a few sips himself, with more caution than he’s had doing anything else.

“You’re gonna be okay, Ty,” he murmurs, still stroking Tyler’s hair. “It’s gonna get easier soon.”

Jenna comes back some unknown number of hours later, both to check on Tyler and to make sure that Josh is actually looking after himself. The sun’s starting to go down, and Josh can smell the sweet aroma of food being made outside.

“Do you know if anyone’s bringing some here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jenna nods. “Debby should have some for us in a bit. It’s soup tonight, so Tyler should be able to have some as well.”

Josh tries to hide his delight. “Great, thank you.”

Jenna is careful as she peels back the dressing on Tyler’s leg, giving the wound a quick clean before wrapping it back up again in a fresh bandage. Josh can see the muscles in his leg are all tensed up.

“Is he tensing because of the pain?”

The medic tilts her head. “I was thinking it might be the distress of me poking and prodding where he’s vulnerable, but it’s probably a mix of both.”

Josh has to fight hard to keep his expression from crumbling, because oh.

“I can give him another painkiller, if you like?”

“Yes please.”

Debby does end up dropping off their food. Jenna and Josh eat together, talking about how they’ll have to start preparing for the colder, rainier weather soon instead of the issue right beside them. Snow might be on its way eventually, but it can’t bury what they need to deal with right now.

Tyler takes another few spoonfuls of the lukewarm soup. Jenna seems anxious to overdo it.

“I think that’s enough for today. Let’s let him rest for the rest of the night.”

“He still can’t sleep,” Josh interrupts.

Jenna tsks. “We just have to wait for him to improve. I’m tempted to sedate him, but I’m worried the effects will be altered by the smear. I fear trying to force it might do more harm than good.”

“He has to have been awake for days now,” Josh whispers, mortified by his own words.

Jenna nods in agreement, face solemn. “It’s been over thirty hours since he arrived, plus however many he was walking for, plus whatever happened before he got smeared. I’d say two days at least.”

Josh nearly sobs. “What if he still can’t sleep by tomorrow?”

For a moment, Jenna looks just as lost as he does. “I… don’t know. We can only keep his fluids and nutrition up; sleep is the thing that’s most likely to help him. Not just for the rest, but to heal his leg, dilute the smear, all of it.”

“I trust you, I’m just… stuck.” Josh tries to put his fears into words. “I’m afraid of what else could happen, you know? Barely anything to eat or drink, no sleep…”

“It’s gonna be alright, Josh.” The medic rubs his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “We’re here to look out for him. You’re the best thing he has right now.”

“I don’t want him to suffer any more,” he whispers. “I just– why him? Why?”

Jenna says nothing. The crackling fire outside fills the space that words cannot.

“Get some sleep, Josh,” she says at last. “We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

She leaves them be, leaving Josh to his own devices to get himself and Tyler set up for bed. Tyler won’t be sleeping, he knows, but he can still do his best to keep him comfortable.

Even lying down, lanterns all blown out, Tyler’s eyes slowly wander the tent, lazy and unfocused. His mouth hangs slightly open, teeth showing.

Josh keeps their hands together, fingers interlocked under the covers. “I love you, Ty.”

Tyler’s eyes flick in his direction. Not quite seeing, but aware of noise.

Josh wants to cry. “I love you. I’m right here. You’re okay Ty, we’re both gonna be okay.”

Tyler keeps staring vacantly ahead, looking right through Josh, but he doesn’t look away.

A sniff. “Can you hear me?”

Tyler blinks. His eyes drift back across the room.

Josh holds him to his chest. His leg brushes over Tyler’s wound, and Tyler’s entire leg twitches. “I’ve got you,” he breathes. “You can rest now. I’m here, I’m here.”

He can feel Tyler’s breath against him. It’s the closest thing he’s gotten to an answer since Nico first ripped him away.

-–—–-

They’re back to waiting the next day.

Josh feels horrible to admit he’s getting bored of sitting around, waiting for changes that are so slow to come, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He’d never forgive himself if Tyler came back and he wasn’t there.

Tyler looks even worse today. The never-ending wakefulness is truly eating him alive, and a guilty part of Josh wishes Tyler would just pass out already so he can finally catch a break. But he knows it won’t happen.

“Come on, have some more, Ty,” Josh tries coaxing him into having as much of the lukewarm broth as possible. Any and all sustenance counts right now. “Just a little more, please?”

Tyler won’t take the spoon pressed to his face, but Josh can see his tongue moving inside his mouth, feeling around his teeth as if to try and taste it.

“Sorry, I’ll let you rest some more.”

It’s not resting. Tyler is borderline paralysed, forced into staying awake by the mind-altering smear.

Jenna warns him not to try overfeeding him. “We don’t know what his diet was like before he got here,” she says, even though it’s clear the Bishops were doing a piss-poor job. “It’s better to ease him slowly. I don’t want to risk him getting sick while he’s like this.”

Josh listens. He’s far too terrified of making a mistake to try anything rash.

Mostly, he’s just trying to pass the time while keeping Tyler entertained. He doesn’t want him to feel lonely, or bored, or anything negative ever again. It’s more than likely that the Bishops were Tyler’s only form of human contact for the last three months, if at all. Josh suspects that the portion of Tyler’s time there that didn’t involve countless forms of torture was spent locked in a grey cell, alone.

Tyler needs the comfort. Tyler simply being there is Josh’s comfort.

He gets someone to fetch Tyler’s ukulele from their tent. Josh doesn’t know how to play it, not at all, but maybe it’ll be nice for Tyler to have nearby. Perhaps Josh can stumble his way onto a chord that shatters the smear and fixes everything.

Jenna smiles and tells him it’s a nice idea, but Josh realises pretty quickly that he’s absolutely hopeless at the uke.

Even with Jenna giving them privacy, Josh still feels like he’s embarrassing himself in front of the entire world. Tyler may not be able to judge him like this, but the humiliation runs deep, heat flushed in his face.

“I feel like I’m disgracing your instrument here,” Josh chuckles, trying to dispel it. “Sorry, I’ve really got no clue what the hell I’m doing.” Then, softer, “You’re really good at it, you know. You’re really talented.”

Tyler’s fingers keep twitching, as if trying to grab the air. His eyes are tilted vaguely in Josh’s direction.

Eventually, Josh settles for sitting with Tyler curled up against his side, reclined slightly into the bed while he plucks at random strings. It might not sound any good, but at least it’s better than whatever demonic chords he was trying earlier.

All this sitting and lazing around is going to be horrible for his legs once he starts moving again, but for Tyler, he’ll always put up with it.

It’s almost comforting, being here with just the two of them, alone and relaxing like nothing ever went wrong. If not for the bland, carefully organised walls of the med tent, Josh would think it’s a normal day. Lounging around, not getting up until well past midday. Until Mark comes close to tearing down their tent, begging them to come out and be useful.

Josh smiles despite himself. They’ll be back to that, soon enough. Tyler is home, and while he’s not quite okay yet, they’ve got time, patience, and care. Things will be okay again.

He keeps quietly plucking the strings, softly humming along every so often and trying to match the note. He wouldn’t let anyone else see this, not a chance, but maybe… in front of Tyler, it’s okay. Tyler might not even remember it, anyway.

Josh is so lost in his shitty attempt at singing that when he glances down at Tyler after a while, he’s mildly shocked to see his eyes have started to droop shut. Lids hanging halfway down, breaths turning slow, even.

Josh does not move.

Tyler stays like that, not dipping further, not rising back up. Hovering on the precipice.

So, so carefully, Josh starts to play with the strings again. The faintest little strums, the softest hum he can muster. Forgetting to be embarrassed entirely.

He watches Tyler with hawk eyes. It’s slow, beyond slow, but Tyler’s eyes manage to drift closed. Josh keeps humming well after, anyway.

Once he finally deems it safe enough to stop, he spends the next several minutes just looking at him, admiring his deep, even breaths, the relaxed expression on his face.

Josh puts the ukulele down, and then he stays completely still. Tyler’s body is still folded into his side.

“I love you,” he mouths, not daring to make noise. For the first time since this all began, Josh is glad that Tyler doesn’t respond.

-–—–-

Tyler sleeps for hours.

Jenna comes back in the afternoon, not even getting a word in before Josh is jabbing a finger to his lips. She stares wide-eyed at Josh, and then at Tyler, and then at both of them. She nods after a few moments, clearly trying to keep quiet, but Josh can see the smile fighting its way onto her face.

He knows she was planning on measuring his reflexes again, on gauging the impossibly slow improvement, but there’s not a chance of that happening now. No one is going to wake Tyler up.

Though, Josh has been stuck in this position for hours now, and while he’d usually love to cuddle with Tyler, he’s hungry and he needs to pee. Cautiously, Jenna helps him gradually move Tyler off of him so that he can escape the bed, tucking him back in with a pillow in Josh’s place.

Tyler is fully limp now. He’d been like a doll before, body stiffly remaining in whatever position they left him in, but now he’s floppy, unconscious. His head rolls sideways on the pillow, drool starting to leak out his mouth.

“Thank you,” Josh whispers to the medic, barely audible. Jenna nods back.

They let him sleep all through the afternoon. He sleeps through Jenna checking his IV. He sleeps through sunset, through dinner, through Josh eventually climbing back into bed with him.

“Depending on how he is tomorrow, we might be able to send him back to your guys’ tent,” Jenna whispers between yawns, remembering Josh’s earlier request. “I can move the IV there.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Josh grins back. “Being in his own bed will help, right?”

“It should, yeah.”

Josh thanks her again before telling her to get some sleep. She yawns, walks off, waves goodbye.

Tyler is warm against him. Held flush against his chest, protected from the outside world. Away from that tower. Away from him.

“Sleep well, Ty,” he murmurs into the dark.

-–—–-

Tyler is still sleeping when he wakes up.

“That’s like, nearly twenty hours,” Josh says, starting to get anxious again.

“He’s exhausted,” Jenna reminds him. “I wouldn’t be too worried yet.”

The fear dissipates the moment Josh takes a look at Tyler’s neck. The paint is still there, of course, but it’s noticeably lighter. A thick smudge of soot, rather than a pool of ink. Colour fading, easing with time.

Jenna must see it too. “All that rest is finally helping him.”

The medic agrees to let Josh take Tyler to their tent once she’s done checking the cut on his leg. Part of Josh wants to grab Tyler and run out there right now, while the rest quietly asks to let Tyler sleep some more. He doesn’t want to accidentally wake him up.

“This is looking much better,” Jenna says to the wound, pleased. “Miracle what some sleep can do, hey?”

“Don’t make this a go at me,” Josh pouts with no inflection. He’s already been lectured one too many times about his awful habits since Tyler got taken.

“Sorry,” Jenna backtracks, remorseful.

“S’okay.”

Tyler’s all greasy and disgusting again after rotting in bed for an entire day, so they make quick work of cleaning him up and changing his clothes. It’s not quite the hot springs, but it’ll have to do. They do their best to be gentle, but Tyler’s eyes still flick open, bleary and unfocused.

“Sorry, sorry Ty,” Josh placates, struggling to get the new hoodie on. “You can keep napping if you like. It’s okay.”

Tyler doesn’t react, but he doesn’t fall back asleep, either. His eyes point in the direction of Josh’s voice, distracted but trying to follow. Still crusted with sleep.

Josh takes immediate note of the change. “Can you hear me?”

Tyler blinks, eye twitching when he speaks, but doesn’t do anything else.

Jenna is looking at them closely. “Tyler?”

Tyler’s eyes dart to the side, following the sound. Josh is at a loss for words, but he can feel himself smiling.

Jenna’s matching him. “Hey, Tyler. You’ll be back in your own bed soon, alright?”

Tyler blinks, looks off to the side. He looks so far away.

The medic whispers to him, “He’s not there quite yet. But keep talking to him. It should help.”

Josh nods, taking deep breaths.

They finish up, and Jenna gets the IV ready on a pole to take with them to the other tent. Tyler still looks half-asleep, and Josh isn’t confident that he’s ready to be thrust into walking so soon after the deepest sleep of his life.

“Come on, I gotchu,” Josh tells him as he stands, lifting Tyler up and out of the bed. He feels Tyler’s body tense up in his arms as he becomes airborne, subconsciously searching for the ground. It’s a good sign, Josh thinks.

Jenna follows him outside. Tyler keeps blinking against the sunlight, seemingly struggling to figure out how to squint his eyes, and Josh turns so that he’s casting a shadow over his face.

Some of the nearby Banditos are pretending not to stare, both at the catatonic Tyler and their leader who they haven’t seen in days. Josh doesn’t really care as long as they don’t bother Tyler, so he fixes them with a subtle glare if any of them start to approach.

He can’t open the tent flaps with Tyler in his arms, so he has to wait for Jenna to let him in.

Josh’s bed is still unmade from the last time he slept here. He feels a flare of embarrassment as Jenna looks around, sets up the IV pole next to it. Some mentally stable leader.

He sets Tyler down on the bed, bunching up the blankets around him. The whole space smells like Josh, and whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, he’s not sure. Tyler lies on his back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling, slowly wandering around like he’s just realised they’re somewhere new. No sign of any recognition, though.

“I’ll leave you guys here,” Jenna says once everything’s settled, starting to head back to the entrance. “Don’t be afraid to call me over if you need anything.”

“Should he have something to eat? It’s been a full day.”

Jenna hums in thought, glancing at Tyler. “Nah, wait until later. He’s already dozing off again.”

Josh takes a look, and sure enough, he is. Eyes half-lidded, losing what little clarity they had. “Right, okay.”

“I’m gonna head back to med. Those sheets need a good wash.”

That gets him to chuckle. “No kidding.”

Once she’s gone, Josh sits on the bed, looking down at Tyler laying next to him. Slowly going under again, at last finding peace in his own bed.

“Still tired, huh?”

Tyler blinks dazedly at the ceiling.

Josh takes his hand, squeezing it tight. “Get all the sleep you want, Ty. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He thinks that’s it, when he feels a weak squeeze around his hand. Josh snaps his head towards where he’s gripping him, chest going light as he sees Tyler trying to curl his fingers around him. It’s twitchy, not quite working, but it’s– it’s–

Josh adjusts his grip so that Tyler’s holding him back. Pours every ounce of conscious thought into witnessing what he’s been waiting days for.

“You’re…” Josh trails off, the smile on his face starting to split the skin. “You’re okay. You’re– I’m–”

He keeps grinning, even as Tyler’s grip starts to go lax again. Eyelids slipping shut, sleep catching up to him.

“You’re coming back,” Josh breathes like he doesn’t believe it. “You’re really going to be okay.”

The paint might still be there, dark and smothering, but he’s finally starting to see his friend fighting underneath.