Chapter Text
“Hey,”
Mark dares to poke his head into the tent one late morning, doing his best to knock on the tent’s material to show that he’s there.
“Hey,” he repeats, slow and gentle. “Are you up?”
Josh is awake. He’s awake, but says nothing. Doesn’t move from his spot in bed.
“I brought you some food. If you’re up for it, I mean.” Mark keeps talking anyway, because he knows better than to believe Josh is asleep. He hasn’t been doing much of that lately. Or at all.
Josh still gives no reaction, content to lay on his tear-stained pillow forever, and Mark gives a soft sigh.
“I’ll just leave it here,” he crouches down, setting the bowl by his bed. His eyes catch on Josh’s tear-streaked face, new drops still forming, and Josh is met with that sorrowful, empathetic look he’s become so familiar with.
“Did you sleep at all?” The deputy asks, and Josh just shakes his head.
The pained look somehow gets worse, and Mark carefully rubs a hand over Josh’s shoulder. He only sinks further into the damp pillow.
“Try to get some rest,” Mark says for the millionth time since this all began. “One of us will come by in a bit to check on you. Do you want someone to stay?”
Josh musters the energy to shake his head again. Mark nods, and that look of exhaustion he’s worn so many times had made itself a permanent home.
“We can get through this, Josh. The sleep will help. And… please try to eat something,”
The deputy leaves him be, and Josh is only a slab on the floor for a few minutes longer until he finally forces himself to get up.
The gruel is tasteless. The colours around his tent are greying. Ever since they lost Tyler again, it seems like he’s lost the rest of the light in his world, too.
Josh sets his eyes on Tyler’s bed as he eats, the whole thing perfectly made. He wants nothing more than to lay in it forever and soak in the memory of his friend, but he can barely bring himself to touch it.
The ukulele sits in its case, resting patiently by the pillow. Josh starts crying again.
It’s all they even have of him. Everything else was taken back during the show. Not even that journal was spared. A horrible mockery, Josh thinks it is. The universe giving him a reminder every single waking moment that yes, it was the music that caused this.
He knew it was a bad idea. He fucking knew.
Why didn’t he do more to convince Tyler to think more rationally? There was so much wrong with the plan, even once they’d perfected it, and Josh knew the whole time that they were playing with fire. And surprise-surprise, they got burnt.
For a while he considered making some sort of shrine or other fixture near Tyler’s bed using the uke, but the idea vanished as quickly as it appeared. A shrine implies that Tyler is dead, and Tyler is not dead.
He’s not. He’s not. Josh would lose himself if he was.
They all saw what happened. From the moment he saw Tyler’s eyes start to glaze over with that awful red, he knew they were done for. He tried to bring Tyler back to awareness, he really did, but the daze only seemed to drag him in deeper.
Run, he had said. Run, run away Josh, it’s all you’ve ever done.
And he fucking did. He left him there. Left him to Nico, to be fed to the vultures. What a fucking coward he is.
They’d scampered back to camp with all their new rescues like rats; fleeing, always fleeing. Following the frantic orders of a hysterical Josh who was on the verge of a mental collapse.
Of course, they’d barely been back in camp for a day before they get an urgent message from their outpost, screaming that they’d watched Nico’s car blow up outside the city. That a Bandito came crawling out, alive.
Josh’s pride and awe for his friend were matched only by his terror.
They’d rushed to sort their new members and reorganise themselves before dashing to the valley Josh knew Tyler would be heading towards. Tyler knew, he remembered what to do, and Josh was so so proud of him and wanted to hug him until he suffocated.
Then Nico trailed in behind Tyler, and the mood dipped down below the floor of the Strait.
They couldn’t hear what was being said, but standing from the top of the valley, Josh had never felt so helpless. Watching as Nico chased Tyler down like a rabbit, his friend stumbling, falling, and not getting up.
It’s the hardest Josh has ever screamed. He’s sure he gave himself a heart attack that day.
The Bishop dragged him back by his ankles like he was nothing more than a worthless piece of cargo, and Josh had to watch as the back of his friend’s head bounced along the jagged, stony path.
Right as he was leaving the valley, Nico had looked right up at him. Too far away for either of them to really see the other’s face, but that Bishop had stared him down. He knew exactly who he was looking at.
Niner to Torchbearer. Both have always been too skittish to ever touch the other.
Josh isn’t so sure about that anymore. He’s sure, given the chance, he could rip Nico’s head straight from his shoulders. Break every bone in his body before setting him and that ugly red robe on fire, burnt at the stake for all to see.
He fucking did this. Every moment of his deserves to be one of agony, of never-ending turmoil and pain. It’s what he did to Tyler. It’s only fair he gets the same.
But Tyler is alive. He has to be.
He was boneless while being dragged back, but that’s just because he got knocked out when he fell. The collision looked nasty, even from forever away, and the hit had just knocked him out. That’s all.
They’ve heard nothing from the outpost, from the city, from the Bishops. Tyler has disappeared from the public eye, but that’s just because the Niners have isolated him into oblivion. He’s not dead.
If Tyler was dead, Josh would know. He would know. He would never forgive himself otherwise.
Oh, who is he kidding. He already can’t forgive himself. Not when all of this was so easily preventable.
He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice how his tears have gotten all over the floor, the bowl of food left abandoned and only half-eaten. Josh blinks back to reality, seeing the worthless state of himself, and holds his head in his hands to sob harder.
How pathetic he is. He’s meant to be the Torchbearer, the unmovable rebel leader, and now he’s just become… sad.
No, no, he has to keep it together. For himself. For his people. For Tyler.
Always for Tyler. Who knows what nightmare he’s going through right now? Relatively speaking, Josh’s situation is comparable to heaven. He’d be weak if he can’t get through this, not when what Tyler is facing is so much worse.
So, against his own bleeding heart and mind’s protests, he tries to shove it down. Summons up the Torchbearer who hasn’t shown his face in weeks, the torch’s flame little more than a flicker.
It’s hard. Way harder than it should be. And he knows he shouldn’t hide from himself. But pretending to play a larger role, escape from his own troubles even for just a moment, it’s too tempting to pass up.
Even if it makes the comedown so much worse.
He forces himself outside, the late morning sun blindingly bright due to how little he’s been leaving his tent. Somewhat aimlessly, he wanders around camp, looking for Mark or something else that might demand his attention.
He just needs something to distract himself. Get his head back in the game and away from that ukulele he can’t leave alone.
Countless heads turn his way as he strolls around, some more discreet than others. Josh doesn’t care. He ignores the whispers. He’s already heard enough of the placating reminders given to all their new members who shrink under his stony gaze.
Don’t worry, Josh isn’t normally like that, they say. He’s an amazing leader, he’s just struggling right now, they say. Don’t bother him about it, he’s just lost someone very important to him.
‘Lost someone’ implies that Tyler is dead. And Tyler is not dead.
If he has to burn through all of Dema to prove it, then so be it.
Yet, the Banditos aren’t wrong. Like his too-honest mind has been screaming lately, he really is struggling. He just doesn’t want to admit it to anyone else, even if it’s blatantly obvious. Even if they’re already trying to help him.
He needs to be the Torchbearer. He needs to get over this and pull himself together. No way to help Tyler if he’s a loose pile of rubble and tears.
What a shitty leader he’s been recently, though. Mark has undoubtedly been carrying most, if not the entire camp’s weight on his shoulders since that terrible night. Josh, meanwhile, has been sulking in his tent for the better part of a month and more often than not needs to have food and water delivered straight to him.
He walks through the camp, past all the new faces gawking nervously at him. All these new Banditos have been here for over a month, yet Josh knows barely any of their names.
What a terrible leader he is. Mark is more ‘Torchbearer’ than he's been in weeks.
It was Mark who helped everyone settle in. It was Mark who dealt with the aftermath of the semi-failed mission. It was Mark who did everything, while Josh, their supposed leader, wept and sobbed alone like he’d lost everything.
But Tyler is everything, isn’t he?
He finds himself doing mindless tasks around camp, trying and failing to distract himself. Needs to be useful. Needs to do something. What kind of leader sits back and cries while everyone else does the work?
So, he takes stock of what types of food they’re missing. Checks their water supply. Moves firewood around camp. Alone.
He’s halfway done with the firewood when Jenna catches him, looking surprised to see him somewhere that isn’t his tent. It only makes Josh’s heart burn more.
“Oh- hi, Josh,” Jenna says, a little dumbfounded. That underlying veil of empathy-sadness is still there, and it makes Josh want to disappear. “It’s good to see you up. What are you doing?”
It’s a rhetorical question. She can see what he’s fucking doing. She just wants to hear it from him, get some confirmation that he’s actually left his cave. That yes, he’s actually contributing to their little society.
“Fires,” he speaks for the first time today, and his voice is so shot Jenna actually flinches.
“Did you get any sleep?” She asks gently.
“No.”
Her face falls. “Josh-”
“I can’t,” he interrupts, something starting to fall out of him. “I- I just can’t, okay? Every time I try I just see it all again, see his red eyes and see him bleeding out on the rocks and see that bitchass Bishop looking at me and-”
“Breathe,” she puts her hands on his shoulders. “Just breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’re standing here, in camp, and the world is still turning. Just breathe. We’re alright.”
Josh can’t help himself. “But Tyler isn’t, isn’t he?”
Jenna opens her mouth, then a look of pain washes over her when she realises there is nothing she can say. They don’t know. They don’t know anything.
She doesn’t even have the confidence to say he’s alive. Because they don’t know.
Josh knows he has to be, but she doesn’t. Everyone else doesn’t.
The silence is so loud.
He tries again. “Tyler isn’t-”
“I know.”
Josh’s fingers twitch. “Then we send Bourbaki to the deepest pit of hell. He deserves to fucking burn for what he’s done. I bet I could take him, that ugly piece of shit-”
Jenna whacks him on the shoulder. “No! Josh, stop.”
“What, you want that psychopath to live in sunshine and rainbows? I’ll fucking end him, him and his-”
“Stop! You’re not thinking clearly right now. You’re grieving and you haven’t been sleeping, Josh. You don’t mean what you’re saying. I know you don’t act irrationally like this.” She takes his wrists to stop him from moving.
He flares his nostrils. “I mean every fucking word-”
Jenna says enough and pushes him to sit down by the fire they’re still standing at, the woman quickly finishing shoving the few logs into the flames that he didn’t finish.
Josh forces himself to breathe. Slowly, his anger fades and only leaves him sadder. The log is cold under him and the fire is so bright it hurts. His head droops down, the grassy dirt somehow more interesting than anything else around him.
He’s trying not to blink. Water is already welling in his eyes, but he won’t let it win this time.
Jenna rubs his arm, “I’m going to get you some water and something to eat, yeah? I know Debby is around, so I’ll find her and she can sit with you. Then you’re going to take an actual sleep. Maybe Holly has something to help with your nightmares.”
She waits for him to say something, but all Josh can muster is a defeated nod.
She sighs, the sound identical to how Mark did earlier. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Josh doesn’t think he could move if he tried. His bones are made of lead.
He waits for her return, occasionally flicking his eyes up. Each time he does, there are always at least two people looking at him. Whispering. Josh lets his head drop back down.
Poor guy. He and Tyler were really close.
He’s still upset? This is like the fifth time this has happened, when are we going to get our leader back?
The Torchbearer was so revered in the city, and the Bishops hated him so much. I never pictured him being so… broken.
Those stupid tears fall. He can’t control anything anymore.
Jenna finally comes back, Debby in tow, and they spend an embarrassing number of minutes talking to him and gently coaxing him to drink some water. He cries silently the whole time, but eventually brings the flask to his mouth, taking tiny sips.
The infamous Torchbearer, being comforted like a little kid and sipping on his drink. What a joke.
Jenna has to go back to what she was doing, but Debby vows to stay with him. This poor girl has been there for every low, yet she never seems to tire of him. Josh would tell her how much he values her company and friendship if he wasn’t so goddamn miserable.
“Do you want to have some of this, too? It’ll help you sleep better,” Debby encourages him to have some of the soup Jenna brought, having warmed it over the fire.
Josh’s stomach rumbles. He’s hungry, but all appetite is gone from him. Left abandoned by that valley.
Debby senses his hesitation. “Please?”
He takes it. If he wants to be better, he needs to at least try. Even if he has to force each mouthful.
There’s a comfortable silence as he stumbles through the pitiful meal, but eventually Debby speaks up again.
“You know, I was talking to Mark earlier…” She starts, a little unsure of herself. Josh already knows he’s not going to like whatever this is about. Debby knows it too. “He said he told the outpost more about what happened. Explained who Tyler actually was- is. Since they were, y’know, really confused as to why Nico’s car was in flames.”
Josh keeps eating, but he’s still listening. Reacting feels like it will take all the little energy he has.
“He told Abby and Jordan how you’re coping with things,” Debby says, and Josh’s movements still. The girl looks a little awkward. “They um, they offered to come back. They’re really worried about you. There isn’t much they can do from over there, and I think they feel a little helpless. They want to be there for you, Josh. They’re really scared.”
“No.”
Debby grimaces like she’d been expecting this. “Josh, come on-”
“I said, no.”
“Why do you want to keep isolating yourself?” She asks, and Josh genuinely has no answer. “Please, Josh, they’re so worried about you. Let them help you. Please.”
“Fuck off,” Josh puts the rest of the uneaten bowl down. “Tell Mark I said not to mess with shit that isn’t his business.”
Debby’s voice is desperate. “It is his business, Josh. It’s everyone’s. We’ve all been struggling with this, but it’s more than clear that you’ve got it hardest. Everyone is worried about you.” She takes one of his hands, rubbing circles into it. “Why is it so hard for you to accept help? If it’s the leader thing, then please, Josh, you know we don’t care. We’re just worried for you.”
He rips his hand away, wincing. “Then stop worrying about me and worry about Tyler. He’s the one that needs it. I’m in fucking paradise compared to him.”
“What will help you?” Debby pleads. “What can we do? Please, Josh, I- I can’t stand to see you this way,”
Josh huffs humourlessly. “Putting a fucking bullet through Nico’s skull.”
Debby gives that same pitying sigh. He hates it.
“Come on, you,” she drags him up. “You need to go to bed.”
He doesn’t even fight her. He’s so drained of everything, and it’s barely even midday.
Debby leads him into his tent, away from all the prying eyes who watch like he’s some outsider. She gets out a fresh set of clothes for him, cleaning up the half-eaten meal from earlier. Catches him staring wistfully at the ukulele case with sympathy in her eyes.
It turns out Holly does have something that might help with his bad dreams. Begrudgingly, he takes a couple drops of the foul-tasting tincture.
He changes when Debby’s not looking, and the Bandito helps him into bed. He’s so tired.
“Do you want me to stay?” She murmurs.
Josh shakes his head. He knows Debby has way better things to be doing than babysitting him.
“Yeah, no chance. I’m staying right here,” she laughs a little, settling on the floor next to him.
Josh lets his eyes fall shut. Already, the terrifying presence of sleep is starting to creep up on him.
“Just until I fall asleep,” he whispers.
“Of course.”