Chapter Text
He couldn’t even hold his head up anymore.
His breaths were broken and strangled, his body trying to communicate with lungs that just didn’t work anymore. The second the antlers had pierced him through the shoulders, all the adrenaline that had been fueling his fight leeched out of his body. All that was left was the beaten-down vessel that Nico had turned him into.
He’d made it so far.
And for what?
He’s coming.
Hold on.
He’d collapsed to his knees, a soul-consuming pain radiating out through his shoulders. His scream was silent on his lips, no air to fuel them with. His head knocked against cold concrete, vision fading in and out as Nico stepped away.
If there was one thing that Clancy knew to be consistent, it was that Nico knew how to throw a punch. He’d been on the receiving end of them more times than he could count, dating back to the time he was a little kid. He’d gotten his first broken finger when he was five, back when he’d fallen asleep during his Vialism Studies class and needed to be taught a lesson. During a rebellious adolescence, an eye would be swollen more often than it wasn’t. He’d been broken down and built back up again until he conformed into the exact image the Bishops wanted him to be. Into their weapon. Into their perfect soldier.
What they hadn’t factored in was that Clancy’s spirit was bigger than the body he resided in. They could beat him, smear him, wipe his mind until he didn’t know which way was up, but the one thing they couldn’t do was take away his desire for freedom.
The desire that Torchbearer had helped turn into a reality.
He’s coming.
Hold on.
Just a little longer.
He attempted a shattered inhale, gasping as he choked on a thick substance in the back of his throat. A sharp pain radiated from his ribs and up to his shoulders, where blood pulsed lazily through his wounds. Through his tape. The thing meant to protect him.
He coughed and felt a warm substance slide down his chin. The tang of copper was heavy on his tongue. His swollen eyes lolled back, searching the ceiling of the towers.
His entire life, he knew he would be one of the few to make it out. He’d be an exception. Nico was notorious for his unrelenting cruelty. He had the least number of escapees of any of the nine districts. Nico knew how to shape his citizens into the exact thing he wanted them to be. It had always infuriated him that Clancy was harder to control.
Now, it seemed that Nico would finally get his wish.
Please hurry.
I’m sorry.
Why did he decide to go his own way? Why didn’t he listen to Torchbearer? What made him think he was so special?
He lifted two shaking black fingers to his chin. They came back shining a dark crimson. Clancy stared at it with something akin to amazement, breath hitching in the back of his throat. He would die with these markings on his skin. He’d forever be claimed.
His eyes fluttered. His vision listed to the side, and with it, his sense of reality.
He snapped awake, finding himself back upright. His head jerked in every direction, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings.
It was dark outside, and he had to squint just to make out the shape of an old, burnt-out car.
He looked down to see he was wearing his old Dema issued uniform. The thing he’d spent the first twenty years of his life wearing day-in and day-out. It felt strange against his body now, foreign. He brushed his hands against the uniform, taking slow, full breaths.
He approached the car with tentative feet. A burst of light blinded him for a brief moment and he flinched back, ears ringing from the sudden explosion of noise. He held his hands in front of his face, feeling the heat of the fire singe his eyebrows. “Torchbearer!” he cried out, voice sharp and urgent, “Where are you?”
When he lowered his hands, Torchbearer was nowhere to be found.
Instead, there Nico was, standing before the car with a solemn expression on his face.
Clancy’s eyes widened in horror.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
He remembered this moment. The first time he’d escaped Dema. Back when he was young, nothing more than a rebellious kid that wanted to live a life bigger than the one he’d been given. Torchbearer had been there to show him the way. He’d been there with his kind smile and eyes that crinkled in the corners when he laughed. He’d taught Clancy how to laugh, that there was more to life then punitory acts and self-destruction.
Nico wasn’t supposed to be here.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
A pain squeezed tight in his chest and he doubled over, hands wrapped around his abdomen.
“Stop,” he said, panting. The words constricted in his throat, and he felt thick, cloying blood clog up his airways once again.
Nico just stood there, watching. Waiting.
“Torchbearer,” Clancy said, attempting to straighten himself back up, “Find me. Please.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard it. A whisper. The faintest echo of a promise in the back of his mind.
I’m coming.
Don’t give in.
Clancy could’ve choked on his relief. Instead, he mustered his dying strength up and ran as fast as his legs could take him.
Each step sent a wave of agony up through his chest. He would get free or die trying. There was no other way.
As he ran, it felt as though the rest of the earth fell away. The heat of the car never lessened. The horizon never got any closer. It was as though he were trapped in place, stuck within the same moment. The ground crumbled beneath his feet faster than he could run. “Please,” he cried out.
Then, he screamed as Nico made contact with his body and he crashed back into reality.
His eyes flew open and his mouth opened and shut in broken motions. He might’ve been mistaken, but it looked as though the sun had started to set. The tower was darker. The neon lights on the walls glowed harsher.
He could do nothing more than attempt shallow gasps of air.
Please.
Hurry.
His head flopped to the side, where he saw the vague outline of dark red robes. Somewhere in the distance—it might’ve been a few feet or a few thousand miles away—he heard a snap, then a thud. He choked on a sob, causing an excruciating pain to radiate through his body. His antlers, broken in two and soaked in his blood, lay on the ground, useless.
His power was gone.
All he had left were legs and fists that refused to cooperate and a body trying to shut itself down.
“It was always going to end this way, Clancy,” he heard Nico say, though his voice sounded as though it were underwater.
Some part of him had known that. His death wasn’t going to be swift. It wasn’t going to be honorable. He’d never get to join the ranks of the Glorious Gones. It was always going to end with him bloodied and bruised, choking on his own blood.
But there was still that small part of him left on fire. He just had to summon the strength to find it.
His eyes rolled back in his head, vision fading as the felt the earth pull away beneath him. He landed with a harsh thud, ice-cold water chilling his veins. He gasped, coughing as he sat back up. His breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him.
Trench.
Not just Trench, but the vision of it he had when he’d escaped for the very first time. When the landscape was vast and beautiful and held before it the very wonder and freedom he’d been seeking his entire life. Its rolling green cliffs and bright yellow flowers. The icy streams of fresh water that doused his clothes and made him shiver.
Only now, night had fallen. Trench got eerie in the dark. The moonlight accompanied with it the knowledge that he could be found at any time.
He rose to his feet, eyes searching the horizon.
Was Torchbearer out here, looking for him?
His eyes landed on a crimson robe and white horse instead.
“No,” he said, low under his breath.
He ran, pain shooting through his legs and up his spine.
He would get out this time.
He had to.
Please!
Hurry!
Was Torchbearer even looking for him anymore? Was he too far gone? Too much of a hassle and a waste of time?
The hoofbeats grew in intensity and volume. His heart thudded in his chest, each footstep feeling heavier than the last.
How did this keep happening? Why did this keep happening?
He screamed as he felt Nico’s hands on his shoulders, pressing down on his wounds. Tacky blood stuck to his skin beneath his jacket. Cold fingers wrapped around his throat, bringing his desperate gasps for air to a halt.
As he felt himself falling, he glanced back up to the night sky one last time.
Did he imagine it, or did he see the flickering of a torch?
A scream died on his lips as his eyes flew back open. There he was, back in that fucking tower.
He was so stupid. All of this could’ve been avoided had he not thought he could go his own way.
Each breath was shallow, punctuated by a rattling in his chest. Sharp, jagged pains radiated through his body. It was getting harder to stay awake.
Can you find me?
He felt flickers of connection, but it was fading fast. He didn’t think he could hold on much longer.
Maybe he should just give in. Stop fighting. Let someone else take his place.
Don’t give in.
I’m almost there.
The simple words sparked something in his brain, setting his body alight. A gasp tore into a scream at the sudden change in pressure.
“Please,” he cried out loud, feeling a hot tear trace down his face.
Nico stood in the corner, watching him with a solemn expression. He said nothing.
He could’ve ended this a long time ago. He could’ve stabbed those antlers right through his heart. But he was enjoying the process. He enjoyed watching Clancy succumb.
“Please,” he said again as his vision faded, no longer certain who he was calling out to.
For the first time since the ordeal had started, he felt a sudden sense of calm overcome him.
He opened his eyes to the warm comfort of the Bandito camp.
It was exactly as he remembered it to be.
Back then, he’d survived off sheer grit and stolen moments in the woods with Torchbearer, their feelings for one another kept close to their chests. Love wasn’t a forbidden concept in Dema so much as it was a foreign one. In the city, it was all most people could do to make it through each day with their head still screwed on. Clancy had spent so long with his back hunched and his fingers twitching that he hadn’t even considered there could be a life outside of that.
Then he met Torchbearer.
The dull grays of Dema exploded into the colorful world that was Trench. The Bandito camp bustled with noise and joy and life. Everyone there had their own experiences. Everyone had gone through things that no one else could understand. But at the heart of it all, they had one another. They had shoulders to lean on. They had the knowledge that something else existed beyond the concrete walls of the city.
Now, Clancy stood amid the roaring fires and burning torches, staring at a world gone silent.
It wasn’t right.
The Bandito camp was loud. At times, it became overwhelming, but the activity of it was something like a steady pulse for Clancy. When things got hard, when he started to doubt himself, he knew he had his new people to help him out.
The Banditos now were frozen in flashes of movement, expressions unmoving on their faces. It looked like they were in the midst of battle.
It took him a moment to place the memory.
This was the night he’d gotten recaptured for the final time.
The last time he’d seen Torchbearer—really seen him—in six years.
He glanced down to see his old camouflage jacket and yellow hoodie. It was such a sudden comfort he almost forgot what had happened to it.
When Nico recaptured him, they stripped him of his colors and burned them in front of his eyes.
Then, they taught him a lesson he’d never forget. One imprinted on his body forever.
He hugged his arms against his chest like he could protect the clothes on his body. He took hesitant footsteps across the camp, narrowly dodging the raised weapons of the Banditos.
“Torchbearer?” he said.
His voice rang into the silence of the night.
“Where are you?”
It echoed off the mountains, reverberating back into his ears.
Where are you?
Where are you?
He heard the crunch of a branch underneath a foot. His blood turned cold and his eyes widened in fear.
That wasn’t Torchbearer.
He turned his head, slow. He didn’t even need to lock eyes to recognize the bloodred cloak.
His voice caught in his throat. “You found me. What now?”
It was more resigned than he wanted to be. But all he was doing by that point was kidding himself.
He was never going to win.
Still, he tried.
He tried to run for his life.
Maybe this time would be different.
Maybe his legs could carry him into the depths of the forest where even Nico couldn’t find him. Maybe then he could be free. Maybe he’d find Torchbearer and they’d be able to rebuild their life together.
Hands locked around his throat, the motion so jarring and violent it left him breathless. His eyes drifted up towards the wide night sky of Dema. Torchbearer had taught him the names of all the constellations, once. He only saw them for the briefest moment, but he tried his hardest to memorize them all. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to see them again.
His head flopped back against concrete, the motion causing him to cough. His eyes widened in a panic when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His throat was entirely blocked off, blood rising up through it.
He attempted to roll onto his stomach, the shards of his ribcage protesting with fury. He lifted himself up onto his knees, trembling hands keeping him in place, as he coughed and coughed until dark pools of blood unfurled on the ground in front of him.
That’s not good.
He knew it was a redundant thought, but he couldn’t think about much else at the moment. His shoulders were on fire. The entire world spun out from under him. The slightest jerk of his head caused him to lose all sense of reality. He knew, though, that if he laid back down, he would never get up.
There had to be something else he could do.
There had to be.
In the back of his mind there was the slightest pulse. Some type of energy, some type of connection trying to break through. He tried to call back out to it.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know how to reach you.
What was he fighting for again?
He crawled on his hands and knees, each motion sending shooting pains through his body. The sounds ripping through his throat were animalistic in nature. He had to stop every few seconds to try and catch a breath that wouldn’t come. He reached the stone wall of the tower and placed a hand against it. Blood smeared across the gray surface as his fingers attempted to latch on. Oneatatime just oneatatime.
He braced his other hand against the wall, not able to hide the whimper that escaped from his throat. Then, he used his hands as leverage and pushed himself to standing. A scream tore out of him, loud and unbidden, and he leaned back against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over. Sweat beaded up and ran down his forehead. He felt like he’d just climbed a mountain.
Each breath accompanied with it a low rattle in his throat. Raising his head took all the energy he had left. Eyes half-lidded, he looked up to see Nico staring back at him.
Nico cocked his head and spoke in an amused voice. “What do you think you’re doing, my child?”
Clancy gathered a wad of blood in his mouth and spat. It landed in front of his feet. Nico remained unimpressed.
What was he going to do? He didn’t have his weapon. He couldn’t fight back. He had nothing left.
Clancy flinched as he heard a sudden bang against the door.
Nico noticed it, too, his head turning in the door’s direction.
Torchbearer.
The banging continued, increasing in volume as he attempted to break down the door.
Clancy rolled his head, knees bent and back against the wall. He released his hands from the wall, red fingerprints etched into gray. He rose his hands, unable to hide the tremors.
Nico raised his eyebrows, his lips remaining upturned. “If you surrender now, I promise to treat your… friend… with mercy.”
Clancy didn’t believe that for a second. If anything, it encouraged him to continue.
He raised his hands together, fingers poised in a way that seemed to come from memory.
|-/
A sudden strength flooded through him, and he used it to deliver the last rush of powers he felt lingering in his body.
A harsh bright light filled the room, blinding him. His ears started to ring. He placed his hands in front of his face to shield himself as the ground continued to spin. It might’ve lasted seconds, or it might’ve lasted hours. All sense of reality was lost to him in that moment.
When he finally lowered his hands, Nico was gone.
The door had been blasted off its hinges.
Running through it was Torchbearer.
In that second, all the strength in his body left him and he buckled at the knees.
“Clancy—”
Torchbearer was beside him in an instant to catch his fall. He grabbed Clancy by the armpits, causing him to scream. Torchbearer lowered them both to the floor, murmuring sorry. I’m sorry, as they fell to their knees.
Torchbearer opened his mouth to speak, then his eyes darted down towards the blood weeping from his shoulders. The hitch in his chest was visible. “Shit,” he said, “I’ve got you, okay? I— I’ve got you.”
He pulled the bandana off from around his neck and fumbled to find some way to help staunch the bleeding. Clancy hissed as the fabric made contact with his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Torchbearer said.
Clancy’s head listed forward, and Torchbearer grabbed his chin with a gentle hand. Clancy’s mouth parted and he gasped as more blood bubbled up between his lips.
“Shh,” Torchbearer said, “I— I think something’s broken. Don’t talk.”
His hands roamed Clancy’s chest, searching for injury, and Clancy cried out when Torchbearer made contact with his ribs.
Guilt flashed on his face, eyes wide and damp. “Sorry. Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know what Torchbearer was sorry about. Clancy had gotten himself into this situation.
Clancy grasped onto Torchbearer’s jacket with bloody hands. His mouth opened and shut several times before he found the ability to speak. “You—you found me.”
Torchbearer’s eyes darted between Clancy’s face and his hands. “I did. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster. I should’ve been,” his words were fast-paced and heavy, his voice thick with unshed tears.
Clancy’s eyes fluttered and his shoulders slumped. Torchbearer held onto him tight. “Stay awake. Okay? You made it this far. You’re not going to sleep,” he said, his voice turning firm.
Clancy’s eyes lazily looked past Torchbearer and towards the center of the room. “He’s—he’s gone.”
Torchbearer’s breath hiccuped. He swallowed before speaking. “He is.”
“I did it.”
“You did.”
Clancy wanted to sob again, to bury his head into Torchbearer’s shoulders and cry until he physically couldn’t. But he knew if he did that, he’d never do anything else again.
Still, he wasn’t able to prevent himself from letting the tears fall. He didn’t even realize he was crying until Torchbearer was brushing a hand against his face.
“We need to get you out of here. Now,” he said.
Clancy opened his mouth to ask where? but instead choked from the cloying blood in his throat.
Torchbearer glanced behind him, as though making sure the coast was clear. “I’m going to pick you up, okay? It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry. I’m—I’m sorry. But I need to get you out of here.”
Clancy couldn’t even nod. He just stared. Josh took that as his invitation. He rose to his feet and reached his arms out towards Clancy. “Okay. Three. Two. One.”
The pull to his feet was accompanied by a loud, gut-wrenching scream. Tears welled in his eyes and his vision blurred. His hearing faded in and out but between the piercing tinnitus he could hear Torchbearer repeat, “I’m sorry. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m sorry.”
Clancy slung his limp arms around Torchbearer’s neck as he was lifted into his firm embrace. He couldn’t hide his constant whimpers and tiny sobs anymore. He was done trying to be brave.
His head slumped against Torchbearer’s shoulder.
Torchbearer ran a hand through his short, damp hair. Clancy felt a kiss press against his forehead and he closed his eyes. It was such a gentle gesture in the midst of everything.
It was over. Nico was gone. They could rebuild their lives together. They could reshape Dema into a kind and flourishing city, one where its citizens laughed and loved without fear. One without a corrupt religion ruling over it.
He felt a nudge against his shoulder and startled.
“Clancy. Stay awake,” Torchbearer said, voice loud and urgent.
He opened his eyes to see they’d began to descend the stairwell. He hadn’t even realized they’d left the top of the tower.
“Oh,” he said.
“We’re almost there. Just stay alive, okay?”
“Okay.”
Each step down the stairs sent another jolt through his body. It wouldn’t be so bad to close his eyes again, right? It was nicer when he could play pretend. When he closed his eyes, the pain lessened. He’d spent so much of his life in pain. Shouldn’t he be allowed at least a small reprieve for a little while?
“Clancy.”
Torchbearer’s voice grew more distant, the thudding of the stairs less oppressive than what it’d been before.
“Clancy.”
Torchbearer’s voice grew more urgent with each passing second, and he knew he should say something. Something to reassure him that he was still there. But he just wanted to rest. That’s all.
Everything would still be there when he woke up.