Until We Meet Again

For three days, James felt like he was an object in the presence of people. There was a constant distance present between him and the others, and he didn't know how to close the distance. He understood that they were here to help. He had a feeling he was told more than once the same information over and over, but they were patient with him despite his difficulty remembering. Consistently, they were gentle, and kind, and asked very little of him in return. He wasn't sure what kind of company he'd fallen into, but he felt like it couldn't quite be real. Surely, there had to be a catch.

It was eerily peaceful. They all seemed to get along with one another with minimal arguments, and when they did argue, it was resolved quickly, or with a level-headedness he wasn't sure how to interpret. Part of James wanted to believe that all of this was sincere. They were real people. They weren't putting on a show, or a performance. They weren't keeping this up just for him, or for Tori, or for Jeremy. They weren't roping a child into the deception either.

It felt too far-fetched, and yet so did the truth - or what he hoped to be the truth.

That said, he was falling into a routine of sorts.

He could hardly sleep at night, but when he did wake up in the morning, it was to the smell of hearty soup. They started the mornings filling up on the heated broth and spent the rest of their day moving, stopping in intervals to rest the horses, stretch, and rest themselves when needed. Though some of them were getting rest along the way - namely, Tori.

James noticed during travel that she often ended up slumped against Jeremy, both riding atop Brenna while she was either half or fully asleep. The only other among their party who seemed prone to napping midday was Sasha, who would occasionally be seen sleeping against Bo's stomach while they rode atop the large man's massive horse.

When they stopped, however, most of them kept themselves busy. Jeremy and Raj in particular were always on the move, often working alongside each other - Raj with the horses, and Jeremy with supplies. Robin (and James was starting to finally retain all of their names, now) was usually trailing behind them. If not, he was watching Sasha while Bo and Mel typically took care of the food.

As for James and Tori, they were under strong orders from Mel to rest.

Tori, of course, didn't seem to mind taking another nap here and there. In fact, she seemed to fall asleep with ease. Sometimes within seconds.

James, however, found it much more difficult to let his guard down, even with the repeated reassurance of everyone around him. Even when Tori and Elliot were close by. Even when he really needed it.

He ended up being stationery much of the time, but rarely asleep, even if he did close his eyes.

Another two days passed in the same rhythmic monotony, and James couldn't help but feel the itch of worry still eating at him. He knew that they were finally creeping out of the Outlands, but he couldn't help but wonder if his escape only incited greater wrath to come.

Yes, Bo had almost single-handedly rescued him. But who was to say he'd be able to do that again if they came back prepared? The only reason he'd been able to pull it off was because they hadn't been expecting him...

And James still hadn't had the opportunity to ask him about the mask. He felt it was better not to mention it at all. It was none of his business, and he didn't want to get on the man's bad side by prying.

So he avoided him. Mostly. As much as was manageable, anyway.

Then again, James found himself avoiding interaction with most of their company, outside of Tori and Jeremy. Sometimes Sasha would insert himself, and James could never turn away the boy's meek nature, but James found he couldn't muster up the strength to really reach out himself.

He didn't mind it though. The boy was growing on him. Slowly.

And the days were going by slowly too.

Five days had passed, and finally, the forest was starting to thin out. James knew they were only a day or two away from passing through desert.

The trees were getting thinner. The leaves were getting duller. The grass was becoming dry and less pliable, and more dirt was beginning to accumulate on their shoes. The weather was a bit gloomy, and the air was still a bit chilled, but it felt like they were on the cusp of entering into thinner air. Arid, and dry.

They made camp that night under a clear sky, and the sunset was soon to come. At the edge of their camp were two spindly trees that had become the homes of the horses, where they were tied to rest. The rest of them spread out on the ground with their blankets and sleeping mats, getting comfortable as the day's light waned.

Tori stayed close like she usually did, and James noticed she was itching at the back of her scalp, fussing with her growing hair.

Sitting on his blanket, while she sat just a few feet away on hers, James watched quietly for a moment while the fussing continued. This had been a recurring thing. Her playing with her hair in a frustrated fashion.

"Are you... okay?" he asked, not sure how to frame the question.

Her scratching came to a slow pause as she turned his way. Not dropping her hand, she gave him a pouting glance.

“My hair is just the right length to irritate the hell outta my neck,” she muttered. Forcing her hand through her hair, she purposefully went backwards to show how fluffy it was along her neck. “Look at this. It sucks. I was gonna get it cut right after my last job, but noooo,” she threw her hands up pathetically, “we can’t have anything in this country.”

She folded forward. Laying her head into her knees, she let out the longest sigh.

James watched her for a moment, waiting for her to perhaps, stop pouting. But the moment didn't come.

"Would you like me to try trimming it for you?" he asked.

Her head flipped to the side so she could see him.

“Oh?” she remarked, giving him an inquisitive squint. “I s’pose,” she said quietly, “but I’ll survive if you don’t think you could get it to look decent.” She weakly smiled, letting out a huff. “I’m not picky, so long as I don’t have another ‘razor it all off’ era. I don’t know if I can emotionally handle that right now.”

"I've cut my own hair throughout the years," he said. "I think I could manage a trim. If you want to trust me with your hair, that is."

Tori hummed in thought, unmoving.

“You know what?” she said, “screw it.” She sat up, shoving her blanket off so that she could sit on her mat facing him. “Do you have scissors with you for that sort of thing?”

"I have some on my bag," he said. "If you want me to go grab them."

It would be best to do it now, while they still had light.

“Yes,” Tori said with a nod, “you can get them. Now’s probably the only good time to do it anyway.”

Nodding, James got up and hurried to Elliot, digging around in his bag before finding the scissors. He pulled them out, unwrapping them from their cloth covering and then he hurried back to Tori, plopping down in front of her.

"Okay," he said. "Turn around."

She did as he said, turning around and scooting backward so she was close enough to reach.

“That good?” she asked.

James hummed. "Yeah," he said, combing through the back of her hair with his fingers. "How short do you usually like it in the back?"

“Lately I’ve been asking barbers for pretty close to the skin and faded into the rest of this,” she said, gesturing to the mess on top of her head. “I don’t expect you to get it that short with scissors, so around a finger’s width should be fine.”

"Alright," James said, humming in thought as he tried to envision it first, feeling through her hair to get an idea for the texture and thickness before making the first cut.

After measuring a bit with his fingers, he started at the bottom, and slowly worked his way up, cutting a little bit each time. He went for careful, short snips - one could always chop more, but never add more hair once it was gone - so he wanted to go slow.

Tori didn't spark up conversation as he worked, so he found himself entering a deep focus, trying to work effectively with the sun's light receding. Fortunately, there wasn't too much hair to work with, so when he finished shaping up the back, the sun was just hitting the horizon.

Running his fingers through her hair to fluff it up a bit, he let the short hairs fall between the two of them. There were quite a few on the ground, but they would get covered up by dirt soon enough.

"Alright," he said, tucking the scissors away into his jacket. "Hopefully that's decent enough for you."

Her hand came behind her head, rubbing her hand lightly against her shorter hair, feeling it out. With a nod, she began to turn his way again, still rubbing.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” she said gently, giving him a meek smile.

Fully facing him now, she took both her hands and slicked all of her greasy hair back. She sat up straight, put her hands on her hips, and stuck her bottom lip out. Maybe she was trying to make a face of some kind. It looked like a pout, but in addition to her furrowed brows, the expression was quite menacing.

“If anyone so much as looks at my horse wrong,” she said in a low tone, trying to replicate his voice. She slowly pointed her finger at him and squinted. His brows raised as a faint smile pulled at his lips. She flashed her eyes at him, then tried to make her frown deeper. It wasn’t working though, as she was already frowning as hard as she could muster. He could see a smile forming in her cheeks, even in the fading light.

Huffing through his nose, he smiled with his eyes.

"Are you trying to imitate me when I was younger?" he asked, knowing that her haircut might've looked somewhat similar to the one had in the army and his earliest posters.

Tori had begun to tremble for a moment, visible in her still pointing finger. She took a deep inhale in through her nose, hiding the smile she had.

“Maybe,” she said quietly, still trying to keep up the act.

James's mouth finally curved up into a small, amused smile.

"Hang on," he said. "You're almost there."

He reached over, making a motion for her to draw her brows together even more.

"You have to look angrier," he said.

“I’m trying,“ she hissed through gritted teeth, forcing some kind of attempt to frown deeper, but she found herself snickering. She took another breath in and made a strained sound, trying again. It was clear she was starting to break, because when she exhaled, it just sounded like repressed laughing.

James's smile grew a little wider.

"Here, let me help you," he said, and he reached over and squished her brows together for her.

Unmoving, she stared at him, looking angrier than ever with her new, squished brows. She muttered under her breath, trying to imitate him again. Her eyes shifted back and forth, looking from side to side.

“Whose ass am I going to kick?” she asked, her voice thicker than she’d managed thus far.

James's smile cracked a little wider.

"Probably mine," he said.

“No…” she groaned, lifting her hand dramatically, reaching for her face, clutching at it from inches away. “Not you, Mr. Hemmings. I would kick ass for you…” Her voice wavered and she flopped her face, along with his hand, into her own. She let out another weary groan.

At that, James finally broke into a laugh. But the laugh quickly turned pained, and he let go of her, pulling away.

"Wow," he said, trying to stifle the laughter.

“I’ve even got the pained groan part down,” she said in her normal voice. Slowly sitting up from her hunched over posture, she eyed him. “One of these days I’ll make you laugh when you aren’t beat the hell up,” she buried her face in her hand again, letting out a muffled chuckle.

James held his sides tensely, giving her a tight smile, trying not to let the pain show so much.

"That would be appreciated," he said.

After some brief silence, Tori lifted her head from her hand, looking to him once more. For a moment her expression looked sad, but that soon faded beneath a weak smile.

“Well, at least you didn’t fully break down laughing this time,” she said meekly. “I remember years back I made you cry doing this and I felt so bad about it. I swear it’s unintentional.”

"Maybe you should save the comedy for when I'm less inclined to die over it," James suggested.

“I’ve been trying,” she said, looking to her hands. “It’s hard, but I’ll survive.”

"It must be difficult for you," he said with a comedically faked empathy. "To use that much restraint."

Tori let out a long sigh, giving him a pained look.

“You’re not helping,” she said.

"I'm suppposed to be helping?" he asked. "I thought this was a self-control exercise on your end."

“What if I hurt too?” She pouted at him. "What if you make me laugh and cry? Wouldn’t you feel bad?”

James's smile faded a little, more teasing.

"I won't do that," he said.

“I know you won’t.” Letting out a sigh, Tori’s pout shifted into a small smile. “Being serious though,” she said, voice growing softer, “I’ll try to be better about the harassment.”

She looked to her hands once more. This time, she had them folded while she twiddled her thumbs.

"Thanks," James said a little softer, feeling for the scissors he'd jammed into his jacket pocket. Sitting stiffly for a moment, he then got to his feet abruptly.

"Just a second," he said.

Her head lifted slightly, but she seemed engrossed in her hands at the present, her gaze never lifting. Perhaps she was thinking.

“That’s fine,” she said faintly.

Nodding faintly, James got to his feet and hurried back over to Elliot. Re-wrapping the scissors so their sharp edge was protected, he slipped them back into his bag amongst his things. Elliot, of course, turned around once James was done to greet him briefly. With a small pet, James beckoned him goodbye with a small, sublte kiss on the head before returning back to where Tori sat.

It looked like the others had gotten a fire going, and Bo was the one stirring the soup tonight. It was never anything grand, but it still smelled homey.

The others gathered around like they did every night, and Tori sat on the edge, where Jeremy had drawn close, sitting beside her.

James paused a few feet from them, giving Tori a small glance of acknowledgement, noticing she was still pretty engrossed in looking at her hands.

He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Hey, Jeremy," he said, trying to acknowledge him as well.

Jeremy looked over to him, offering a small bow of the head.

"I like the haircut,” Jeremy said.

At mention of her hair, Tori’s head lifted, her gaze finally resting on James. Something about her seemed to have shifted from her prior alertness and into exhaustion. It showed in her eyes through the weak smile she gave him.

"It does look very nice on you," James added with a small smile, looking to Tori.

Tori looked back to her hands bashfully, the smile of hers growing a bit.

“Thank you. You did a good job,” she said. “Now’s when I need a good poster person to come along to document it. The last one is so ugly.”

Jeremy snorted to himself, amused.

"They'd have to draw someone entirely different to make you ugly," James said.

Tori opened her mouth to speak, but Jeremy's voice sounded out first.

"That's practically what they did," Jeremy muttered under his breath. "Your nose is so wrong. I don't know how they screwed it up."

"Yeah," she mourned. Tori slid down where she sat, looking abysmal. "They really thought it was an improvement from the first one. I still can't believe they used the one of me in that awful dress."

"Hey, I think you looked pretty," Jeremy said, leaning over toward her with a sad pout.

"It was terrible, Jeremy," she said to his face, looking to James. "Make him stop, I can't handle it," she said mournfully. "This is all because he first met me in that godsawful saloon before I ran into you."

Jeremy's pouting continued in the background. It seemed like a topic he'd bothered Tori with before.

"If you want me to tell you you're ugly, I believe any smart man would not do so," James said. "And I will not be convinced to lie."

"No, no," she mumbled, giving Jeremy a side eye. "I know I'm good looking, but that era was just so... bad."

James glanced over at the fire, not sure exactly what had happened in that "era," but he understood enough to know that she was ashamed to speak of it. He could empathize with that much.

"Then we will be grateful it is in the past, now," he said. "A poster is just a piece of paper. Those who see it won't know the real you, but perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. An updated poster would only mean you'd be recognized."

"Yeah, I get that," she sighed, beginning to grow distant again.

Jeremy's pouting had ceased with the lack of attention. He was back to watching the others, mainly Sasha and Robin as they laid on the ground together, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

James couldn't think of much else to say, and he had a feeling Tori couldn't either. Letting himself slouch, James felt himself drifting, not quite asleep, but not quite alert either.

It took him some moments before he realized that a pair of bright blue eyes were glued on him, and he found himself staring out at Sasha, who was watching him in return. James hadn't realized he'd spaced out in the boy's direction. He blinked.

Looking away, James tried to shy from his gaze.

Sasha had been watching him for a majority of their travels. James didn't know if it was because the boy was supicious of him, recognized him from the posters, or if he was scared of him.

After some silence, Sasha got to his feet and shuffled over. He came to a stop in front of Tori, who had started to lean into Jeremy. His hands folded neatly in front of him, he stood there, rocking gently on his heels.

“Miss Tori?” he asked softly, nearly audible.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Tori sat up, her attention drawn to him.

Sasha hummed, looking from her to Jeremy and James. He returned his gaze to her, giving her a determined look.

“I remember you said you were worried about your friend,” he said. Looking to James momentarily, then back to Tori, Sasha shuffled a bit in place. “I wanted to know if I could give you a hug, I’m just so happy now that you’re all safe.”

Tori’s eyes widened. Her expression warmed, a tired smile reaching her eyes. She held her arms out for him.

“Of course, Sasha. Come here,” she beckoned.

Soon Sasha had himself nuzzled neatly in Tori’s arms. Her head rested next to Sasha’s as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. It sounded like she may have said something to him, but James couldn’t hear.

She held Sasha like that until he pulled away. Gently urging Sasha toward Jeremy, her smile widened, almost into a smirk.

“Go on. He doesn’t bite,” she chuckled.

Sasha and Jeremy made solid, unwavering eye contact. Jeremy raised his arms, letting the boy crawl up close and hug him too. Their hug was short and sweet, but it looked firm.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Sasha mumbled through the hug.

Jeremy let out a huff when Sasha pulled away. Before Sasha could get up though, Jeremy motioned to him to draw in close once more. Jeremy whispered something to Sasha, his mouth hidden behind a hand.

Sasha sat unmoving for a time as he listened, but eventually he nodded. The two of them exchanged another stare before Jeremy let the boy climb off of him.

Once standing, Sasha then turned and marched over to James. He stood neatly in front of him, his hands folded behind him. He had a painfully pleading look in his eyes.

“Is it okay if I give you a hug too?” he finally asked.

James stared at him.

Suffice to say, that was not the interaction he was anticipating, and he found himself caught rather off guard. He thought the kid had been staring at him because he was wary, not because he was... well, James wasn't sure what this was.

Hesitating, James sat up a little straighter. He was a stranger to the child, but he didn't want to see the boy shrivel away in dejection again. Still, he asked:

"Why?" he asked quietly.

Sasha’s eyes grew wide, like he wasn’t expecting to be asked a question in response to a question. He looked entirely caught off guard, too.

“Oh… um. Well, I don’t think it’s fair that I hug them but not you,” he said faintly.

It was then that James realized that, perhaps he shouldn't overthink the logic of a child in that moment. Swallowing, he nodded.

"Oh. Well. Sure," James said, stiffly extending an arm to let the boy in as he brought his knees down to the side.

Sasha stood there dumbly for quite a few seconds before he realized that James had given him room for a hug. Upon realizing, his expression softened.

He walked up and knelt beside him, putting his arms gently around James. James was slow to respond in turn, gingerly bringing his arms around the boy to complete the hug. Sasha had come in close, setting his head against James's chest. James found himself confounded as to how the boy had become so comfortable to want to draw so close for something like this.

He didn't understand. Maybe the boy needed this for himself.

After a brief moment, he gently pat the boy's back and pulled away.

Sasha sat back on his knees, looking up at him with a searching gaze. Tilting his head with a squint in his eyes, he pursed his lips and folded his arms. It was like James was being studied intently by the boy, but he didn’t know what for.

Letting out a hum, Sasha turned to Tori, inspecting her with the same curious eye.

“What’s on your mind?” Tori asked.

“I’m just thinkin’,” Sasha said to himself.

Looking back to James, Sasha hummed again. This time he put his hands on his hips, his gaze focused. He switched from sitting on his knees to sitting on his rump, his legs stretched out in front of him. It didn’t look like he was going to be leaving any time soon.

“You give nice hugs,” the boy said softly, looking toward Bo and the soup he was tending to.

James wasn't sure how to respond. Frankly, he hadn't been around children in quite some time. He felt like he'd forgotten what it was like.

"Uh. Thanks," James said. "You're not bad yourself."

“I’ve been practicing,” Sasha replied as he looking up to him again, meeting his gaze with a smug smile.

James tried to smile in return, but it felt like all he did was relax his face a bit.

"Well... you're doing a good job," he said.

Sasha simply smiled a bit wider, then looked over toward Tori and Jeremy.

From behind Sasha, Jeremy had started to pester Tori, gently nudging her shoulder with a hand. Her head was hung forward, and she’d sunken even further into Jeremy’s side. Judging by Jeremy’s wary gaze and careful prodding, Tori had probably fallen asleep.

“Tori, come on,” Jeremy muttered, trying to sit up from underneath her. “The soup is almost done. You can sleep after you eat. Wake up.”

Silence.

Jeremy simply gave James a tired, helpless glance.

“Your haircut knocked her out,” Jeremy sighed.

"I get exhausted when I lose my hair as well," James responded. "It's the source of my power."

Jeremy’s brows furrowed, and he gave him a deadpan stare.

“How did Tori spend so much time with you and not get driven to insanity,” Jeremy muttered to himself, looking to the sky.

"I'm not that obnoxious, am I?" James asked.

Sasha turned to look at James inquisitively as Jeremy sighed deeply in the background.

“Power in your hair?” he asked quietly.

"I was only joking," James said with a small shrug. "The only power my hair has is being too heavy for my head."

Sasha stuck his hands into his own hair and ran his fingers through it carefully. Upon pulling his hands away, he shook his head a few times. A majority of the boy’s hair fell into his face, almost entirely covering his eyes.

He looked dramatically to James with a wide-eyed stare that was barely visible.

“This is my power,” Sasha said. “I go blind.”

James blinked, caught between a laugh and a stare. He managed a small smile, wondering if Sasha was joking or being sincere - and if it were the latter, he didn't want to embarass the boy.

"Ah, yes," he said, trying to sound somewhat genuine and not reveal the humor in his voice. "Very impressive."

“Why thank you!” Sasha said deeply, replicating what sounded like Bo’s voice. “I’ve spent yeeears honing my skills.”

Sasha puffed himself up, setting his fists on his hips, but then leaned over toward James. “Oh yeah,” Sasha said with a grin, still trying to hold some kind of deep voice, “and my muscles.”

He raised his arms, trying to show off his “muscles”, even though he had none to show.

“Look at these guys,” Sasha beamed, looking entirely proud of himself, “my little babies.” He made kissing sounds toward his arms.

James couldn't hold in the laughter anymore. Breaking into a smile, he let out a light sputter of a laugh, covering the lower half of his face behind his hand. Next to him, James could hear Jeremy snort in amusement, and Tori began to stir.

"That's a marvelous impression," James chuckled.

Across from the fire, Bo let out a laugh as well.

"Looking good, Sash," Bo said.

“What in the…” Tori groaned from beside Jeremy as she sat up, looking to Sasha in confusion, then to James.

Sasha crawled to his feet, still looking like he had an act going. His arms held out stiffly at his sides, trying to show off the muscles still, he began to march directly for Bo.

"Oh no!" Bo said. "I'm being attacked."

Sasha began to stomp even faster, lifting up his fists like he was ready to fight. Bo mirrored his stance, but was putting on a cowardly front.

"Please, have mercy!" Bo said. "I'm no match for the Mighty Sasha!"

In response, Sasha growled and began throwing punches. Bo blocked one, but clearly let Sasha get in at his stomach. Overreacting, Bo let out a groan, grabbing for his abdomen.

"Noooooo," Bo trailed off, falling backwards onto his back with a thump. "You killed me with only one puuuuunch."

James watched the whole act with an amused grin. When Sasha stood up with his hands raised in victory, James began to clap. Everyone else joined in, one by one. Even Robin shifted just to do so.

“Yes, thank you, thank you,” Sasha said deeply, bowing to each of them. He bowed to Tori as well, because she'd started clapping too. “I couldn’t have defeated Bobo the Disastrous without your amazing help,” he nodded, “now excuse me while I take a much needed nap.”

Sasha then dramatically fell forward, feigning a slow fall into the dirt. Once he was laid down beside the fire, he started snoring loudly.

Tori let out a breathy laugh at the snoring.

“Man, I can relate to that one,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She opened her mouth to continue, but stopped when there was a loud gasp from Sasha.

“I smell something!” Sasha proclaimed, scrambling to his feet once more, looking like he’d awoken from a terrible nightmare. The Bo-accent was starting to falter, and Sasha’s own laughter had started up. “Is that soup? I love soup!” he gasped, putting both his hands on his cheeks, surprised. “I’m sooooo hungry…” he groaned.

Bo let out a booming laugh, sitting up and flopping over beside Sasha.

"Good!" Bo said, reaching up and tickling Sasha's stomach. "You're getting a bigger appetite just like me!"

Sasha toppled over on top of Bo, falling into a fit of giggles.

After the two wrestled about for a good bit of time, Sasha’s giggling eventually fell quiet.

“Is it done yet?” he pleaded from atop of Bo, his voice back to normal.

Bo hummed, and then sat up, Sasha sliding down into his lap. Reaching over into the pot with his finger, Bo dipped it in and then licked it. He hummed in thought, and then nodded.

"Yes, I think this is sufficient," he said. "Time to fetch the bowls!"

Mel was quick to come over, bowls and spoons at the ready. She handed one to Sasha, and Bo got up to take the ladel, serving it to the boy first.

"Bloop," Bo said by way of sound effect as the soup sloshed into the bowl. "There's your soup."

With a soft “thank you,” Sasha carefully sat himself down near the fire with his bowl, out of the way of Mel and Bo. His face mere inches away from the soup, it looked like he was breathing in the smell.

Then everyone else got served. Passing out bowls one by one, Mel brought soup to everyone until she and Bo were left. Eventually, they all ended up huddled around the fire with warm bowls in their hands, feeling comfortable as they soaked in the warmth after a chilly day.

Chatter fell to silence as they all ate, and James found himself lost in his meal until his bowl was empty. It wasn't until then that he looked up, and found himself staring right at Sasha, who had moved to sit right next to him. Watching him. Again.

"...Oh," he said. "Hi, Sasha."

“Hi,” Sasha replied. “I have a question.”

Huh. Okay. Well, the kid was direct, at least.

"Oh. Sure. What's your question?" James asked.

“Is Tiberius your real name, or is it a fake name?” he asked. “If I were in your boots,” Sasha said, bringing a hand to his chin, as if he had a beard he was stroking in thought, “I’d definitely have a fake name.”

Tori and Jeremy immediately perked up at that. Tori looked to James, then to Sasha, watching the boy carefully.

James let out a small exhale as the question processed.

Most people never assumed that Tiberius was a fake name. It was on the posters, after all, and he'd served in the army. But he guessed he'd never been faced with the logic of a child, who wouldn't overthink an idle curiosity.

He just hadn't expected to ever answer this question. At all.

He briefly looked around, aware that everyone else was silent. Listening.

"It's... not," he said quietly. "Actually."

Sasha’s eyes widened, and so did Tori’s, both of them intrigued. Jeremy’s eyes were shut as if he were asleep, but he was definitely listening.

James swallowed, forcing a small smile.

"It's um," he said. "Well, my real name is James. But nobody really calls me that anymore."

Sasha turned to face James more, his eyes searching him.

Behind Sasha, Tori’s mouth opened as if to protest, but then it shut. She looked to the fire and staring intensely into it, brows furrowed deeply.

“I like that name,” Sasha said softly, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sorry no one uses it anymore. Is it because of stuff that happened with the kingdom? I don’t know a whole lot about all that…”

"It's... a bit of a long story," James said. "I changed my name before I joined the army."

“Oh…” Sasha drifted off, his smile growing faint. “That’s a long time ago.”

Jeremy nodded in agreement, peeking an eye open to eye James. After a moment, he then eyed Tori, who was still watching the fire. Her expression had softened some.

"Yeah," James said quietly. "It was."

Sasha grew quiet for some time, visibly thinking. The silence around the fire that followed felt tense, and hollow. James swallowed.

"You don't have to change what you call me," he said. "I know it can be confusing."

It was a suggestion offered on impulse - not one he wholly meant to commit to. He'd hated the name Tiberius for years because of who he'd become under it, but it also never felt like himself, even though he'd come to respond to it faster than his own name.

"I guess no one's ever asked," he added faintly. "About... my name."

"It's reasonable to me," Jeremy said with a shrug, "having a different name for the army, I mean."

Tori nodded slowly in agreement, still watching the fire. She still seemed to be mulling over the new information.

Just as Jeremy was about to speak, Tori stopped him, a hand raised between them. Her eyes finally left the fire, directed now toward James. There was a deep concern enveloping her frown.

"Is it safe to use your real name?" she asked, voice low. "I'd imagine there's people out there who shouldn't know it. I wouldn't want to put you or your family in greater risk."

"I suppose. So long as my last name remains a mystery, there are enough Jameses in the world to write it off as another alias of mine," James said quietly. "For those who don't know any differently."

"That makes sense," she said, looking back to the fire. "I think I remember you screwed up at one point, saying your name was 'James' to me during that first getaway. You played it off like an alias, like you're saying. I didn't even suspect it."

Tori let out a weak snort of what seemed like amusement, warranting a glance from Sasha. The boy studied her for a moment as she drew quiet once more. After a moment though, he turned to James.

"I like 'James' better anyway," Sasha said matter-of-fact. Resting his hands on his hips, he gave James a focused, intense frown. "'Tiberius' sounds big and scary, like the posters say you are, but I don't think you're scary."

James's expression softened, but there was a sadness he could feel in his gut at the comment. He didn't seem scary because he was weak, but he knew there were many times in his life where he'd struck fear into the hearts of those around him. The boy couldn't have known.

"I appreciate that," he said. "But they didn't put that on the posters without reason."

"Not everyone is what they seem," Bo spoke up across from them. "In more ways than one."

It was a nice sentiment, but James could sense the nuance in the older man's words that the boy didn't. Though they'd traveled this far in peace, there were still many things they didn't know about each other, and he still didn't know what to expect from them in the long run.

In truth, he wasn't able to think of the long run, really.

He hadn't thought past last week, when Tori found him. He'd expected it to end there. Everything beyond that was unwritten pages.

"So," Bo said when another small lull followed. "What do you prefer to be called, then?"

James hesitated, glancing down at Sasha.

He didn't know how long he'd be with these people. He didn't know if it was worth it to get attatched in that manner, but he also wondered if going by James would, in some ways, humanize him to the mages he'd had a part in terrorizing. He knew it was selfish reasoning on his part, but he couldn't help but consider his own self preservation. It was instinct, by now.

The only person he wanted taking a part in his own demise was himself. That was the only thing he could control.

"I wouldn't mind going by James again," he said softly. "If... you all don't mind change."

"Doesn't bother me at all," Bo said with a shrug.

"I think it'll be a good change," Mel chimed in.

"Don't like your other name anyways," Robin muttered.

James forced a small smile at that, unable to argue.

Jeremy gave James a keen eye, but he looked content otherwise with the change.

"I agree with the rest of 'em," Jeremy said. "I'll probably screw it up a few times, but I'll get it."

The only two who hadn't spoken up yet were Tori and Sasha. Sasha had patiently been watching the others as they made comments. Now he was waiting on Tori, his hands folded neatly in his lap, waiting.

Tori had begun to fidget with her hands again. After some silence, she seemed to realize it was just her and Sasha left.

With a weak huff through her nose, she raised a hand and pressed it over her heart. James couldn't make out whether it was pain or sympathy until she took a halting breath in.

She turned his way.

"Okay, I'll try," she whispered, voice faint. She gave him a weak smile. "Sorry, I..." she drifted, her hand slowly massaging up and into her shoulder.

Jeremy put an arm around her, pulling her into his side so he could rest his hand on her shoulder. It looked like he managed to get his hand under Tori's, and the moment he took over for her pathetic rubbing, she sank into him.

After Tori drew quiet, Sasha looked up to James expectantly.

"I like 'James' too," Sasha said. "But I already said that."

Before James could even respond to anyone, Sasha lifted his arms out for a hug. He had another one of those pleading looks in his eyes. James wished there was a polite way to turn the boy down without disappointing him, but he couldn't think of any. He really wasn't fond of hugs, but it seemed the boy needed them more than he did.

Forcing a weak grin, he stretched out an arm for the boy to come in.

Sasha hugged him gently, his face buried somewhere in James’s chest. He was practically hugging at his stomach, slouched across his legs.

“Thank you for trusting us,” Sasha spoke, muffled through the jacket fabric. “I’m happy you’re safe now.”

James loosely brought his arm around Sasha, feeling tense and awkward despite the boy's sincerity. He knew the boy couldn't possibly understand everything that had happened, but James still didn't feel safe, despite their distance from the Outlands. And he couldn't say he trusted them completely, either. Giving his first name was rather inconsequential in the long run. It didn't mean they were allies, and it didn't mean they were friends.

James waited for Sasha to pull away, but when a few too many seconds passed by, James lifted his arm, giving Sasha a small pat on the back. It was a nonverbal cue, but he wasn't sure if the boy understood.

Sasha loosened his hold ever so slightly. Once he moved, he didn’t move far off, taking his arms away to neatly lay himself down at James’s side. Facing in toward him, the boy curled up, tucking his arms and legs in on his body so that he was as small as could be. From what little James could see now, Sasha's eyes had closed.

James hesitated, wondering if he should move now that the boy was curled up right up next to him.

He looked over to Jeremy, who had Tori leaning against him in a similar manner. Silently, he hoped Jeremy could understand his eye contact was a plea for help.

Jeremy stared at him. For a moment, it felt like nothing showed in the man’s face. Then his eyes shut, and he let out a longwinded sigh.

“Tori,” he said quietly, eyes still closed. “I need to get up.“

Tori groaned, freeing Jeremy from his temporary prison by sitting up.

“Thank you,” he said, stretching his arm and shoulder.

Looking to her finally, there was gentle concern in his eyes. He stood up, letting his hand hang in front of her. Silently she took it, and he lifted her to her feet. Once she was stable, Jeremy urged her in the direction of her blanket nearby.

She let out a sigh, passing a tired glance toward James and Sasha. There was little emotion she had to show, but when she noticed Sasha sleeping beside him, she huffed lightly to herself. The corners of her lips pulled back into a line as she gave him a knowing, deadpan stare. Wordlessly, she headed off for her bedding, leaving him and Jeremy behind.

After a minute or so of sitting still, Bo eventually came over and gingerly picked Sasha up, giving James a small, thankful nod. Sasha appeared to be fast asleep, and didn't even stir as Bo carried him over to their sleeping mat, and the two of them laid down together.

Now left alone, James drew away and found his blanket, curling up near the fire where he was as everyone else quickly cleaned up and packed away their things, doing the same.

Very quickly, it got quiet by the campfire. The only one not lying down was Raj, who usually took first watch.

James pulled his blanket around him a little tighter as he laid down, listening to the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets in the forest.

Bo and Mel had said that they should reach the bunker by tomorrow, which meant this would be their last night spent like this. But he didn't know what their nights would look like after. They kept being told they'd have time to think over their decisions, and to talk over what they wanted, but James couldn't help but feel like, even with every option in his lap, that he still wouldn't know what he wanted.

He hadn't really ever had a choice to do what he wanted with true freedom. Not in a very long time.

He closed his eyes, knowing that sleep wouldn't come for a very long time.

After a while, but not long, given that the fire hadn’t fully died down, there was a whisper at his side.

It was Tori.

She’d silently scooted over to him from where she’d laid down earlier, and was only few feet away now. She was on her elbows and knees, still entirely under her blanket, staring at him.

“Hi,” she whispered.

James poked his head out from his own blanket, looking at her.

"...Hi," he whispered back. "You alright?"

Her head lowered a little bit.

“I feel bad,” she said plainly, her voice still in a whisper.

James frowned.

"Why?" he asked.

“I was practically sleeping the whole time earlier,” she said, “or I was out of it. Everything just went so fast.”

"You've been recovering," James said softly. "Mel said that's to be expected."

“I know that, I just…” her voice drifted off as she wiped her face in the blanket by her shoulder. “I heard laughing, and you and the others being happy and goofin’ off. I couldn’t manage to even say anything nice,” she huffed weakly, the firelight sparkling in her welling eyes. “I’m sorry.”

James's brows drew together.

"You're not obligated to say anything," he said. "I understood you were tired. You just being here is enough."

She quietly sniffed, staring into the ground between them. After a moment of silence, she nodded, wiping her eyes again.

“Ok,” she whispered.

James watched her for a moment, wondering if there was more going on that she wasn't saying.

"Do you feel like you're not doing enough?" he asked.

She shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I’m trying not to worry about it. I’m just trying to focus on the both of us healing, I guess.”

"There's nothing wrong with that," James said gently. "But you don't have to focus on my healing. You can leave that to me. You just need to focus on yours."

She tried to put on a smile for him. It was a bit sad still, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, looking up to meet his eyes. The tears in her eyes had been dried, but wiping her face on the blanket had left them raw. “Thank you.”

"Did all of this come up just now?" James asked in a whisper.

“Kind of,” she looked down again, poking the tips of her fingers together in front of her. “Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.”

She dropped her hands.

“I just realized, you don’t even know what happened to me before we saved you. That’s how tired I am,” she muttered, putting her face into both of her hands to massage her forehead. “Ugh.”

James frowned deeper.

"...Something happened?" James asked, lowering his voice even more.

She lowered her hands from her face, her eyes meeting his once more.

“When the coroner’s smoke fell on us,” she said, visibly swallowing, “I was trying to get to you and Jeremy, but there was an archer who got me in the side.”

Her expression saddened.

“I had to run,” she whispered. “They got me again square in the back, and then I fell.”

James felt his heart sink into his gut. He'd been knocked out faster than he'd been able to do anything - leaving Tori in the fight against the Blue Suns alone.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, knowing that wasn't the end of the story.

There was painful silence for a moment. Tori shifted in place a little bit, adjusting herself under her blanket.

“I… couldn’t breathe,” she said slowly, her eyes drifting. “I remember feeling it come back. I can't recall much after that. I only assume I healed myself more than I should’ve." Her eyes returned to meet his, and she gave him a weak, momentary smile. "Anyway. That's why I'm still so out of it. Mel said it will take a while before I feel normal again."

James nodded slowly, not sure he fully understood the implications. He at least, knew what it meant to overextend yourself. He imagined with magic it came with steep consequences.

"I'm sorry," James said softly.

There was a tiny sniff before she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she grabbed the corner of her blanket and used that to dry her face instead while her head was low.

“I don’t blame you for it,” she says toward the ground.

A moment of silence followed. Thinking more on her words, presumably. Then her head lifted.

“They were there for you, of course. So I accept your apology in that regard. Just remember it’s not all you, y’know? I personally think that archer should be the one apologizing.”

James huffed through his nose, but there was no heart in it. He knew Tori was well-meaning, but the guilt he felt wasn't so easily brushed away.

"Right," he said faintly. "Sadly, I don't think that's going to happen."

“Me neither.”

After that, she fell quiet for some time, watching him. Before the silence became pitifully awkward, she propped herself up on an elbow. This gave him a slightly better view of her face, but not much.

“Anyway. The point is,” she started with a huff, “shit happens. Gods only know we’ve both been through a lot of it over the years.” There was a brief pause. “I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but what I do know is that you’re a friend to me, even if our time together has been short so far.”

James felt his heart grow heavy, feeling the familiar weariness in his heart that came with any weak connection he still had.

He wished he could understand. He wished he could see what she saw that made her think he was worth the effort, the energy, and investment. He didn't know why a mere few weeks together, years ago now, made her walk away thinking he was any kind of good person by any standard. Seeing him as a man fighting for survival, he could see. If he were her, he'd feel just in considering him a mere ally, with loose ties based on mutual need - not trust. They'd helped each other back then because they ran into one another when they were both at their most vulnerable.

He needed help. So did she. Back then, they had something to gain from looking out for one another.

But now?

All Tori had gained from helping him was trouble. They didn't have nearly enough history for this to feel earned, or warranted. They didn't have nearly enough trust established for it to make sense. Every morning, he wished he could convince Tori out of it, knowing it was a fruitless endeavor to try.

He couldn't help but wonder if this had nothing to do with him.

Over the years, any time someone offered a helping hand, there was always some kind of ulterior motive. It was a trap. It was for money. It was out of interest, or some kind of sick curiosity. Maybe Tori just needed someone to fix, and he was the perfect project to make her feel better - because gods knew he wasn't getting better any time soon.

Or maybe he was just a cynical, jaded man who'd long since given up on the idea of real friendship, and Tori still believed there was something to be found in genuine human connection.

But why him? Of all people.

He wasn't a good friend. He didn't know what Tori meant by that. He'd been difficult, emotionally distant, resistant to help and comfort, and guarded. Sure, he could say things that were honest and well-meaning, but it shouldn't mean anything.

Not with who he was. Not with... with all of this.

He wasn't just an ex-soldier of the Moonlight Kingdom. His mere existence stood as a constant reminder of the worst day in history for all mage-kind: the day the Resurgence ended, and the fight for their freedom died. Even five years later, they still hadn't recovered.

And Tori was a mage.

James turned his head to look up at the sky, so she wouldn't see his face in full view, and he wouldn't see hers.

"Why?" he asked.

"What?" She sounded out, confused.

"Why would you call me a friend?" he asked, more direct.

Silence. And that was telling enough. James didn't need to wait to hear her answer to know she didn't even know why. Just like he'd thought, she had an idea of him - just like everyone did - but she didn't know him.

Hell, all she really experienced of him was when he was in pain, half dead, or stressed out of his mind. Whatever idyllic memories she held onto in the hazy in-between weren't foundations for a friendship. They were surviving together. Not having some kind of... storybook adventure, or however Tori related to those memories. She had to have romanticized it to some degree to have this level of fondness towards him.

“That’s…” she drifted off, her voice weak. “Why? I don’t know, maybe because I saw something good about you that was worthy of being my friend. It doesn’t have to be anything intricate…”

James wasn't satisfied with that answer.

"You didn't know my real name until today," he said steadily.

And when another pause followed, the heaviness turned to something tense, churning in his chest.

What had he been doing all this time? He hadn't been thinking straight.

He didn't know if he could trust these people. He didn't know if any of them were being forthright. However kind and accomodating they were -- all of that could vanish in an instant, when they got him where they wanted.

How was he supposed to know they didn't just want him for information? Extortion? These people were in the resistance, for gods sakes. They had every reason in the world to want to kill him.

This could all be an elaborate set-up. Fuck it, he wouldn't put it past them.

It only for vengeance, even that would be warranted.

There was an audible rasping breath in from Tori that pulled him out of his thoughts, followed by an exhale through tight lips.

“How does that have anything to do with being friends? I thought the same way about you before.”

"Friends," James said quietly, carefully controlling the tone of his voice to keep it neutral. "How would you define a friendship, Tori?"

There was a wet sniff and more painful silence.

“Sorry.” Her voice cracked. “Um. The only ones I really had were the girls years ago, and one or two others. It’s been so long, I don’t know. Being there for someone, being able to talk about whatever, laughing and crying with each other.”

“Do you… not consider those a part of friendship?” She asks faintly.

James pinched his eyes shut.

Damnit. He... gods, he already felt bad for her. She was being painfully open to the wrong person. He wished she would stop choosing him, so she could avoid this: the inevitability of it all.

Tori, maybe, would be able to stay with these people. She was a mage. They knew Jeremy. They would receive her with open arms, and if she could let go of him and stick it out, she'd have a chance at healing that he would never get. And gods, he wished she'd just take it.

He was the wrong person for this. This wasn't going to work.

James reached up, rubbing his eyes for a moment as he let out a sigh.

"I'm glad we were able to share those things together," he said as gently as he could manage, not sure how honest it was to say, but hoping it could soften the blow. "And sharing experiences is essential to human connection. It's not that I think you don't care -- I know you do. And I want to see you well, too. Whatever that means with our circumstances. But friendship... it's more than sharing the same space, or surviving the same awful circumstances."

There was a deeply pained inhale, her breath cracking. Another harsh wet sniff.

“I know,” she squeaked.

James pressed his lips into a frown.

She was crying, wasn't she?

"I'm sorry," he said softly, feeling the pang of empathy. And still, at the same time, he couldn't make himself change his mind. "It doesn't mean I don't appreciate everything you've done. I know you've given more than I could ever repay."

He just couldn't give her this. Maybe he owed her his life, but he didn't owe her this.

"I'm sorry," he said again, fearing if he explained himself any further, he'd only crush her.

He knew she was in a fragile place too. Not because he knew what was going on in her life prior, but because it was evident just looking at her. He knew how to recognize someone wearing their grief like a garment because he did the same. She was clearly grasping at straws for ways to cope. He could tell smoking didn't cut it for her. It didn't cut it for him, either, which was why he gave it up.

If it couldn't dull the pain, all it did was make him feel sick. And he already felt sick on a regular day.

Maybe Tori was hanging onto it because she had nothing else.

He wanted to think she had Jeremy, but he didn't know what to think of their relationship. Everything he knew of her was broken puzzle pieces and fuzzy memories. So much had happened in between.

He was sorry that her life had dealt her awful cards. But so had his, and that didn't mean he had to show them to her.

She had other people. Other outlets.

She'd get past this.

He hoped she'd get past this.

There was a stifled whimper of pain. Then he heard a rustle before the top of her head briefly cut through his vision. Then she turned and walked away, her crying receding into the night.

James rolled over, turning away.

He knew this was his fault.

His fault for entertaining her in the first place. For being delusional with her, and not speaking the truth. For letting his own mind run on silent, merely existing with her, instead of letting himself process or think about the situation.

If she hadn't found him when she had, maybe things would be different.

He'd have had more of his wits about him. He wouldn't have seemed so helpless, or in need of her assistance. They could've easily said hello and parted ways without any hard feelings. Instead, her entering his life threw them into another shared trauma, and the emotional ties that created were complex.

Gods, he wished he could take it all back.

Every stupid, thoughtless thing he'd said to appease her and keep the illusion of "friendship" going. Because he knew he'd made it seem real. He'd even been convinced it was real, until the reality of his situation cut through like a knife.

Trusting these people was a mistake. He hadn't had a choice in the matter, in the state he'd been in when he was brought into their care, but now he had to be careful.

They were going to keep an eye on him constantly, and then they were taking him to a bunker, which he could only assume would be guarded, have limited exits, and limited access in and out. Trying to leave in the meanttime could be impossible, because there would always be someone awake or alert to watch him.

Bo had never been clear and open about their travel plans, but he'd mentioned a "friend" up north that they were going to visit on their way out of the Outlands, after they cleaned up and restocked on supplies in the bunker.

If it really was a visit to an old friend, and it really was just a home -- that could be James's best opening to get away.

No guards. No sleeping in shifts. And after all these years, James knew how to pick a lock and sneak away.

He pulled his blankets around him tighter, starting to form a plan.

The first thing he'd need to be sure of was that he had a pick on him at all times.