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Jimmy dreams of losing his wings.
Sometimes they're ripped from his back by hooded figures whispering things, things that he knows he feels like he should understand, but despite how hard he listens, their words sound like gibberish to his ears.
Sometimes he's falling and he lands on his back, his wings crushed beneath him, and he wakes up with a horrific pain in his back that he doesn't know how to soothe.
But most recently, he dreams about them being burnt off. He dreams about the feathers singing at the ends, before they burst into flames. He can feel the heat, but no matter what he does, he can't put them out. He wakes up most nights drenched in sweat; the smell of smoke sticks to him.
Which is weird, he thinks, because he doesn't have wings.
He thinks he could explain to anyone exactly what having wings was like, despite lacking them. He can feel them bristle on his back when people talk down to him, he can feel the wind in them when he rides Arrow across the Mesa. He feels cold at night when he goes to bed because he knows he should have wings to curl up in, but he has to settle for blankets. He can feel the way that they involuntarily flare up when he's embarrassed or scared.
He wonders what they would look like - what kind of bird would he be? A part of him thinks it would be cool if his wings were that akin to a vulture or a condor. Something to suit the Mesa.
He knows that his wings are much smaller than the massive wingspans of such birds, though. Big enough for flight - he knows he can fly but he couldn't tell you why - but definitely not bigger than him.
He's okay with that.
——————
It's a particularly hot day when one of his townspeople - Pamela, he thinks her name is - frantically knocks at the door to his office. She comes crashing in before he's able to ask her in. He doesn't mind too much, he was struggling with paperwork, anyway.
“Sheriff! There's been a cave in at the mine south of the creeper farm - my wife is in there, I could hear her calling out. Her and her team- I—“
He stands up, quickly enough that it makes his head hurt from the sudden movement. He tries to think about the last time he had a drink, but the thought is immediately forgotten as Pamela frantically keeps trying to explain what’s happened.
“Call Stephanie, she’ll know who to round up quicker than I can.” Mostly because everyone was kind of terrified of his deputy - she was a no funny business kind of woman. “She’s at the general store helping with some security issues. I’m going to go ahead and see what I can do myself, and help anyone outside.”
The lady nods and runs out the door and down the street. Jimmy doesn't wait to see her go, grabbing his hat and running out towards the stable next to his office. Arrow is waiting for him, already saddled up and ready to go from their morning rounds. He kicks open the rickety gate and quickly mounts Arrow, spurring her into action.
He feels the wind in his wings - he often can, even if it’s a phantom feeling. Normally he would take a moment to appreciate it, but he’s all too aware that lives are at stake - the lives of his townspeople.
He urges Arrow on, and she complies easily. He’s thankful for how fast she is, and how easily she listens, too. He braces himself as she jumps over a large rock, his gaze falling on the entrance to the mineshaft as they crest. She lands with hard hooves on the ground, slowing only when Jimmy shifts in the saddle, sliding out of it as she comes to a full stop. He doesn’t bother to tie her to a fence, he trusts she'll stay where she is.
The mine entrance, true to Pamela's word, was caved in. Covered in cobble, dusted red by the Mesa. There was evidence of people being here, being outside - dropped tools, hastily extinguished campfires, but no one was actually outside. He had sort of expected someone else to be here - if Pamela had been outside, he thought others would be as well. An oversight on his part, but he trusted his deputy to be here shortly.
“Hello? Can anyone in there hear me?”
He closes his eyes and presses an ear to the mineshaft, listening for any sort of reply or movement. He doesn’t hear anything, and so he gets to work. He jogs briefly back over to Arrow, grabbing his pick from the saddlebags, jogging back over to pick away at the rocks. He wasn’t so much as picking at the rocks as he was using his pick to leverage them out of where they were stuck, being careful to ensure the heavier ones didn’t roll back into place, or cause more debris to get stuck.
It’s hot; he should’ve packed a canteen of water, he thinks idly. His head hurts, but he continues on until he manages to make a small hole, the cool air from the mine blowing in his face, cooling him down immediately. He shivers, before he leans in again.
“Hello in there! Is anyone hurt? Can you hear me?” he tries again.
He leans in, listening. He can hear his voice echoing throughout the cave. He can hear chains swaying and creaking from inside the mine. He can hear Arrow breathing gently from the shade she wandered over to. He can hear the wind of the Mesa.
He hears voices.
He isn’t able to make out what they’re saying. His head hurts. It extends to his back, to his—
He groans. There are so many voices, much more than he knows are in a mining expedition team. There are so many voices. He can hear everyone in town, he can hear the ragged breathing of the miners who are trapped, he can hear the voices of the hooded figures who threaten to rip his wings off.
His back feels like it’s on fire, his breath hitches as he doubles over, unable to soothe it. He tries to stop listening. He can’t. His head is filled with everything, all at once.
He hears the familiar voice of his deputy calling out his name.
Everything goes black.
——————
He dreams of losing his wings.
He’s in a field, this time. There’s a fire and he runs towards it; but the field drops off into a sharp ravine. He gulps, daring to spread his wings. He flaps them; he knows he can fly, he’s done it before, he knows he has.
He leaps.
He falls.
His wings are on fire. He can’t fly. It was stupid to think he could.
He falls; the smell of singed feathers feels too familiar for him to be comfortable with.
He falls, and he smiles bitterly, wondering if in another life perhaps he could’ve been a phoenix instead of a—
———————
Jimmy wakes with a shout. He’s sweating, he can feel his back burning. He lets out what feels like a pained groan, but sounds more like a pathetic wheeze, running his hands down his face. He needs to sit up; his back is burning.
It’s a familiar routine to his tired muscles. He rolls himself onto his belly, and forces himself up in a way that doesn’t involve flexing his back muscles too much. The pain is always most intense in the morning. A hot shower usually numbs it, and working in the hot sun of the Mesa like he does every day is enough distraction to make the intense pain into just a dull ache.
He forces himself to sit up, finally taking in the room around him. He’s back in town, but he can’t recognise exactly where. It’s a bedroom, but it’s not his. He remembers hearing his deputy's voice before he passed out—
He remembers hearing a million other voices as well.
Despite the pain in his back and his head threatening to ache from any sudden movement, he shoots up. The mines. The miners. The townspeople— he had to make sure they were okay. The pain in his back is worse than usual today, but he swallows hard and forces himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His boots are beside it, so he carefully slips them on.
He decides to forgo his vest, until something catches his eye in the mirror on the wall across from the bed. His shirt is sticking to his back, drenched with sweat, the material slightly transparent with the moisture. From what he can see, his back is… discoloured? Almost frantically, he pulls his shirt off over his head, not bothering to unbutton it, and twists to examine his back.
The skin around his shoulder blades looks like it’s been burnt. It’s raw, and smooth as if it had been exposed to fire and not healed properly. He reaches up and over his shoulder, gently touching it, hissing in pain as he makes contact with the raw skin.
His… his wings were on fire.
He takes a breath, before he hears footsteps and quickly pulls his shirt and his vest on. He has just enough time to grab his hat and examine it to look busy before his deputy - Stephanie - comes into the room.
“Sheriff! You’re awake!”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about passing out on you guys like that. I guess the heat of the Mesa got to me.” He pauses, placing his hat upon his head, flicking some hair out of his eyes in the process. “It was irresponsible of me, especially as the Sheriff.”
“You’re telling me! We arrive just to see you pass out and almost get crushed under another cave in!”
Jimmy laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, before he remembers exactly why he was there.
“How are the miners?”
Stephanie's smile softens. “They're all safe. They were a little deeper down the cavern, so it took a while to get to them but they're off duty until further notice. We've sealed off the mine, as well. I don't feel great about letting anyone in there even to inspect it for a little while.”
Jimmy nods in agreement. “I'll make sure to ride by the mine on my patrols as well, make sure that no one has stumbled in.”
“You won't go passing out on us again if there is, right?” his deputy teases playfully. Jimmy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and pointedly looking away. Stephanie has a cheeky grin on her face Jimmy isn't sure he likes.
“You're free to take as long as you need. We couldn't find your keys on you, so you're in my house, and the whole town knows you passed out, so don't worry about the walk of shame, no one will think it's weird!” She winks.
Jimmy splutters, “You have a wife!!!”
Stephanie just laughs, opening the door and heading down the stairs. Once he can no longer hear her footsteps, he relaxes.
His back hurts.
He moves towards the door, intent on just getting home.
——————
He doesn't like being near the mines much anymore, he finds. They make his back throb as if it was on fire. Which, in a way, he supposes it was.
The scar on his back isn't any better, either. He wakes up with a tender back every morning that he has to carefully dress each day to make sure that the raw burn that never seems to heal won't be too disturbed throughout the day. He's fallen into a routine, so it's less of a hassle and more of just something he has to do now.
He's doing his morning rounds. Arrow can sense how uneasy he feels and she makes a huffing noise as they get close to the mine. He pats her neck comfortingly, and she carries on slowly.
Along the patrols he finds fresh extinguished fires from campsites, a few people traveling on horseback already, and the occasional lizard. It was boring work, the morning patrol, but necessary work - there were bandits outside of the fish bowl that the central part of Tumble Town was in, and he didn't want to give them any inch on his town.
He sighed as they got closer to the mines. Nothing had changed, the entrance was still barred off with pieces of wood, the surrounding area marked unsafe by some makeshift bollards from inside the mine, his back burned, and he was ready to go home.
Hastily, he tugs on Arrows reigns to pull her around to head home so he could get some work done. He had to look into trading with nearby empires - specifically Sanctuary for some wood, and his deputy had also asked if perhaps he could look into asking any neighbouring empires about figuring out a steady food supply for when the Mesa was unforgiving.
He sighs, his mind racing with a million different thoughts on what he needed to do once he was back in town.
He doesn't notice the fresh fire still smoking just behind the mine.
——————
He doesn’t get to go on his morning patrol the next morning.
Despite Jimmy's best efforts to sweep the area and make sure that no bandits were setting up camp too close to Tumble Town, they came in during early dawn, when only he was awake.
They arrived quietly, but the town woke up with a bang, as an explosion reverberated throughout town - coming from the bank. Jimmy didn’t have time to think; he curses and sprints to the barn, not having a chance to saddle Arrow, he jumps on her back and urges her on.
She complies, and Jimmy is once again incredibly thankful for how well behaved Arrow is, even in the face of danger. They arrive at the bank in record time, Jimmy sliding off Arrow as she slows, but not giving her time to stop completely. He taps on her side and although she whinnies in protest, after a moment she trots away; he doesn’t want her getting hurt, even if it meant he didn’t have an immediate getaway.
One of the bandits steps forward as he arrives - an elderly fellow with a nasty scar down the left side of his face, his eye closed presumably from the injury. He has a bandana around his neck obscuring the rest of the injury. Jimmy recognises him as someone he’d jailed before.
“Bad move letting your horse get away from you, Sheriff. Around these parts I am the swiftest on just my own two feet.”
Jimmy scowls, flicking his hat upwards so his eyes are visible, “I won’t need her to make a getaway. I’m not about to let you or your men hurt anyone in my town.”
“You know, I once met a man with a hat like yours.”
Jimmy hovers a hand over his seldom used whip in its holster. He was pretty sure he’d be able to disarm at least the head bandit. He could use him to force the others to surrender - if they had any sort of honour among themselves at least.
“Well. I knew him. I overthrew him. Y’see, the Tumble Bandits don’t take lightly to our turf being muddied by men of the law.” The way he spits those words makes Jimmy flinch, but he stands his ground.
“Cmon Sheriff, aren’t you gonna say anything to my cool dramatic backstory? I’m monologuing and everything!” The man throws his hands out dramatically to either side of him, and if Jimmy wasn’t a smarter man he would’ve attacked, but the men behind the leader are ready, waiting. Hoping.
“I don’t much fancy myself an unfair fight,” he finally speaks.
The leader clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You are much less fun than that old Sheriff. He always had fun little quips for me. You? You have dramatic one-liners that kinda suck.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes. He wasn’t exactly here to make friends with these bandits; he didn’t exactly care for their stories or their tricks.
“I’m not here to make friends, bandit.”
In one swift movement, Jimmy grabs his whip and cracks it out in front of him, knocking the gun out of the head bandit’s arms. The bandit yelps, grabbing his hands. The two bandits behind him storm forward. Jimmy runs head on at them, ducking to slide between them, towards the bank.
The one to the right grabs his whip that was trailing behind him and Jimmy loses his balance, falling onto his back. He cries out, the wound he didn’t get a chance to dress this morning burning as it slides against the course, sandy ground. He isn’t given a chance to recover - he drops his whip but a moment too late. The bandit to the left grabs him by his hair and Jimmy has to scramble to his feet despite the pain so that the bandit doesn’t rip out a tuft of his hair.
The head bandit walks forward and sneers at him. “Nice try Sheriff, but you’re outmatched. We’re gonna give you one chance to run, before we take matters into our own hands.”
The head bandit nods towards the man holding Jimmy and he lets go. Immediately, without a thought or plan in mind, Jimmy launches at the head bandit. He’s only human - he wishes he had claws or something in the moment - but he manages to punch him in his one good eye before the man who previously grabbed him grabs him again, this time by his arm, pulling roughly. Jimmy recoils, and grits his teeth so he doesn’t make any noises to let them know they’ve hurt him.
The head bandit recovers quickly enough, spitting out what looks like blood, and Jimmy can’t help the small wave of smug satisfaction that rolls over him. He hopes he gets a black eye and loses a few teeth.
“Take him to the mines, with the other one.”
Jimmy pales, but tries to not let it show, instead fighting against the bandit, making it clear he wasn’t going to make this easy for them. In return, the bandit hits him over the back of the head, and Jimmy’s world goes black again, for the second time in too short a period of time.
——————
He dreams of losing his wings.
His wings are on fire, but he’s in a black void. Where the fire can’t get to, the black void oozes into the feathers. It’s awful, it’s painful, and Jimmy is so tired. He doesn’t have the energy to cry or call out; he knows no one would come anyway, so he just curls in on himself, in a little ball, hoping for the pain to ease.
He wonders if other people's dreams hurt them in the real world. He knows they don’t, but he knows that he’s cursed. He’s been cursed since the day he was born.
Jimmy had siblings, once. Two siblings that he loved more than anything, they were the sun and the moon, and he always hoped to be the stars. Then one day the sun disappeared, and he started getting awful dreams, awful nightmares. Everyone blamed him; it was his fault. He didn’t know why.
So he ran, and death followed. He knows he is cursed. Bad luck follows him wherever he goes, and eventually bad luck spirals into death. He knows that the mines collapsing meant that he needed to leave; it was an omen. But selfishly, he clung to the hope that he could stay.
He supposed that was why he dreamt of losing his wings so often - a reminder that he could never stay, that he was doomed to fall.
He feels tears roll down his cheeks, but he is numb to the world. His wings are burning, and the void is slowly, slowly threatening to consume him. He doesn’t mind, he finds. Perhaps things would be better this way; he could die a hero, defending the town he worked so hard for.
He’s always been a flightless bird, maybe he won’t wake up from this dream.
Jimmy chokes on a sob, and submits himself to the void.
And so he waits.
…
And waits.
…
And waits.
…
It feels like it’s been hours. Jimmy is sure it hasn’t been, but time passes differently in dreams and in the void, so he doesn’t really know. He blinks his eyes open, and he’s no longer in the void - he’s in a plains field. In front of him there is a ravine, and just past that ravine is a wonky looking home, but he feels a familiar sort of comfort looking at it.
He takes a step forward, but stops in his tracks when he looks at the ravine. He’s fallen down there before, he knows. His wings were on fire back then, too—
He pauses, then looks over at his shoulder at his pair of golden yellow wings, perfectly okay, perfectly intact. He stretches them out to their full length, and he can’t help but smile - he even has his flight feathers. They haven’t been clipped.
His smile turns sad when he looks at the ravine again, though. He doesn’t feel confident, even if he has his wings. They’re going to burn, they’re going to be taken away from him. That is the only thing he can rely upon in his dreams.
He turns, heaving a sigh, but something pulls him back. A gentle hand in his, a warm embrace. His wings suddenly feel like they’re on fire, but not because they’re burning, but because there is a warm hand raking through his feathers, gently preening them.
“I— I can’t,” he stammers, hands shaking as he brings them up in front of him to fidget with. No one responds, but the warmth from his wings hesitates, before he gently finds himself being pulled towards the ravine again.
“Please don’t make me.” He barely manages a whisper, the words stuck in his throat. The pulling stops, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The warmth is at his side, this time, and although he can’t see anyone, it feels sort of like there’s someone there. He gets the sense that they’re trying to help, but it feels like there’s no point.
“I can’t…” he trails off, staring at the ravine, his wings falling on his back, “I can’t do this alone,” he finishes. He feels tears down his cheeks again.
The warm presence hesitates. He feels a gentle hand wipe away his tears, before backing away briefly. Then, he feels hands on his wings again. They’re holding them up, holding them steady. Jimmy hesitates; unsure.
“Will you… stay with me?”
The presence doesn’t move, doesn’t falter.
Jimmy takes a shaky step forward; the warm presence moves with him. He spreads his wings, and the presence simply adjusts to stay close. Jimmy can feel his hands shaking.
“I’m… I’m gonna run. If I don’t run, I’ll never be able to do this. Will you be able to keep up?”
The presence moves closer. He takes that as a yes.
Jimmy takes a deep breath, then he starts to run, the warmth at his side the entire time. He doesn’t give himself time to think, leaping off into the ravine the second he gets close. His wings feel warm; but they’re not on fire this time.
He flaps his wings, and for once he doesn’t fall.
He soars.
——————
Jimmy wakes up slowly; groggily and tired. His head hurts, and when he runs his hand through his hair he can feel a bump on the back of his head forming from where he was knocked out. He tries to stretch but finds himself bumping against something. He grumbles, before opening his eyes to a man staring at him with crimson eyes, disapprovingly.
Jimmy immediately recoils. “Void—!! I’m sorry.”
The man sighs, shrugging. “You’re fine. It’s just been so nice in the cage all by myself, and now my lovely quiet cage has been intruded by some guy.” Jimmy can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and stares at him.
“I’m not exactly here by choice.”
“Not many people end up in a cage by choice, buddy.”
“It’s— I’m the Sheriff. I’ll get us out somehow.” Jimmy puffs up his chest a little. The man doesn’t seem impressed, sighing, crossing his hands over his chest.
“Sure, okay. Give it your best shot.”
Jimmy ignores him and starts shifting his weight, looking around. There were no guards posted to them. He could tell from previous experience helping the workers that they were in the deepest part of the explored mine. He frowns, looking down the pathway.
“Why aren’t there any guards assigned to us?”
The man flicks his tail grumpily, extending a hand - there’s a cuff around his left wrist, Jimmy notices.
“Because you’re a human, and they’ve suppressed my fire with this bangle.”
“Your fire…?”
The man rolls his eyes - his sclera is also red, Jimmy notes, his irises just a lighter shade of crimson.
“I’m netherborn, if I could get rid of this bangle I’d be out of here in seconds, but the bandits got ahold of some stupid magic suppression rubbish from raiding a convoy en route to The Evermore.”
“Who are you, anyway?”
The man scoffs. “I used to be their leader, until good ol Ricky the Swift got bored of retirement. Idiot doesn’t seem to realise we rely on the town to get by, and blowing it up will only make their own lives harder.”
Jimmy leers at him. “You know, you could just live in Tumble Town with us, and not have to rely on being a criminal to get by.”
The man grins ever so slightly, and Jim can see that he has sharper than normal teeth. Vaguely he wonders if it’s a netherborn or a… this guy thing. “What’s the fun in that? Besides, we’re nomads, we live and breathe in an ever changing Mesa. We can’t settle, we wouldn’t be able to.”
The man crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, and Jim takes it as a sign the conversation is over. He stays quiet for a little while before eventually, he figures they need to make some sort of plan to get out.
“Can I get a name?” he tries.
“What, so you can put a warrant out for my arrest the second you get outta here?” The man is watching him warily.
“If you help me, I’ll make sure you and whoever follows you will be safe, so long as you stay away from Tumble Town. Besides, if we want to get out of here, I’m gonna have to call you something.”
The man seems to consider this before he shrugs. “Fine, you can call me Tango.”
“Gonna hazard a guess and say that’s not your real name?”
Tango laughs. “Oh, absolutely not, but I lost my real name years ago. Tango is as close to a real name as I get these days.”
“You… lost it?”
Something mischievous glints in Tango's eye, but Jimmy can’t quite figure out what it is.
“The Mesa isn’t just home to cowboys, Sheriff.” He sits up suddenly and claps, startling Jimmy, who attempts to sit up in turn, but only bumps his head on the top of the cage. He wonders how tall Tango is if he’s able to sit up the way he is.
“Right, Sheriff. What’s the plan?”
Jimmy looks up through the tunnel. It’s dark for the most part, but there is torchlight further up.
“Do you know how to get that magic suppressor off?”
“Not a clue.”
“That’s fine, then we can brute force it. It snapped on, yeah?” Jimmy looks to Tango who nods before he continues, “Cool, okay, okay…”
Jimmy reaches for his hat, only now realising that he no longer has it, pouting for a second before sighing and instead deciding to fidget with his gloves. “You know. I understand them taking my badge, but kinda rude of them to take my hat as well and leave everything else I have.”
“He probably thinks that the hat is a symbol; he who wears the Sheriff hat is the Sheriff or something. Personally, I wouldn’t have gone for it, but Ricky always was one for theatrics.”
“What do you know about him, anyway?”
Tango hums, tail flicking as he thinks. “Not a lot. I know he used to be deputy of Tumble Town years ago, but the previous sheriff kicked him out because he found out he was trying to overthrow him. There was some sort of scuffle, the old Sheriff disappeared, and Ricky fled. This was all before my time, I’ve just heard stories.”
Jimmy nods, tapping a finger to his chin in thought. While he didn’t know the exact history of Tumble Town, the Mesa was a lawless place. He had heard stories and whispers, but because he was an outsider, no one dared tell him the stories - and while he was easily accepted as their Sheriff now, it wasn’t something people liked talking about, so he never brought it up.
“Right, okay. We got a power hungry old man, and we got a bunch of bandits who are… loyal to whoever’s in charge?”
“Yeah, something like that. My team are still there and I know I can trust them, but they need to lay low so they don’t get thrown in here with us. I don’t think there’s room in this cage for three more men.”
Jimmy laughs, surprising himself.
“Right, if we bust in will they back us up?”
“Without a second thought, yes. Which is probably to their detriment, but they’re good men.”
“It’s nice to know some bandits have some semblance of honour.”
“It’s hard to come by, but it exists.”
The two men lapse into silence, both of their gazes wandering up towards the torchlight.
“So…” Jimmy starts, before immediately trailing off.
“The plan?”
“Right, yeah, the plan… do you know why they kept us alive?”
Tango considers, before shrugging. “Me? A show of power to prove that he doesn’t need to kill me to neuter me and render me powerless. You, though, definitely to keep the townspeople in line. You have a reputation, Sheriff, even if the townspeople don’t all respect you. If you die, you’d die a martyr, and give the people reason to rebel.”
Jimmy frowns, leaning back against the uncomfortable metal bars before recoiling, a curse on his tongue he doesn’t let air as his back stings from the contact. He almost forgot about his back. Tango gives him a weird look, but doesn’t bring it up.
“Right, okay. In that case, how willing are you to let me try to crack open the cuffs? They may have taken my hat, but they didn’t check my boots.”
Jimmy leans over, reaching inside his right boot, unsheathing what is a small, flat blade. It sheens blue like diamond, and doesn’t have a defined handle, though one side looks a little less sharp than the other.
“They took my actual dagger, but this isn’t easily detectable. A pain to handle because it’s so flat, but I reckon we can probably figure something out.”
Tango's eyes shine, and he grins. Jimmy notes that his eyes give off a small, red glow. It would be oddly comforting if not for where they were, he thinks. Jimmy extends a hand and Tango extends his left hand, the one with the bangle. Jimmy inspects it gently, trying not to pull too hard at Tango's arm. It’s not metal, he notes, but there is a visible seam he thinks he can probably pry open. There are also claw marks, which Jimmy assumes is from Tango's own attempts at escaping.
“Did it hurt you when you tried to break it?”
“Nah, stupid thing’s just impossible to break open with one hand.”
“Kinda stupid of them to put us both in one cage, then.”
“They probably assumed we’d try to kill each other. They didn’t take into account that the Sheriff is too kind, even to criminals.” Tango shrugs, and Jimmy’s face heats up ever so slightly. He decides to ignore that comment, instead working on prying open the bracelet. Carefully, he wedges his blade into the seam of the bracelet, wiggling it until he’s able to jam the blade into the seam, unlocking the bracelet with a click!
Jimmy has to immediately back away (as much as he can in a cage) as Tango’s hair bursts into flames. He grins broadly with his sharp teeth, and his eyes burn a fierce crimson - Jimmy is captivated by how bright they are, realising that the bracelet dulled his eyes as well. A small flame also bursts to life at the end of Tango's tail, and he flickers it happily. Jimmy can’t help but compare him to a cat; he forces himself to look away.
“So! How about we get out of here?”
“I would love nothing more.” Jimmy agrees easily, and Tango's grin widens. His tail is flicking wildly as he presses his hands to the metal bars. Nothing happens for a moment, before he can see a small glow in Tango’s hands, and the bars begin to melt. It takes a little while for there to be a Tango or Jimmy sized hole in the bars, but they don’t need to worry about patrols, so they take their time.
Eventually, Tango is able to wiggle out, and he only needs to melt one more bar for Jimmy to be able to shimmy out without ripping his clothes on the bars, or burning himself. His back scrapes one of the still warm, but no longer molten bars and he shudders on his way out.
Idly, Jimmy grabs one of the bars that was pulled away, twirling it in his hands. Tango looks at him, amused.
“Just in case.” Jimmy says simply, and Tango just laughs.
“Are we just going to go in…” he trails off, looking at the bar in Jimmy’s hand, “bars blazing?”
Jimmy looks up with a grin and takes a breath. “Yeah. Let's go.”
Jimmy takes the lead - more out of habit than actual necessity, but Tango doesn’t argue and easily follows behind. They move quickly, only slowing down when they finally reach the torchlight. Jimmy frowns as they approach. He doesn’t hear voices, doesn’t see any sort of shadow that’s close by. He looks over to Tango who looks similarly suspicious. They share a glance, before they slowly round the corner.
The torchlight is dim, as if the torch had been lit hours ago, and the torch not swapped out. A small detail, Jimmy normally wouldn’t note, however…
“The rope bridge has been cut.” Tango’s voice is barely above a whisper. Jimmy remembers how long it took to painstakingly build the bridge across the ravine in a safe manner. Three people had ended up hurt. The ravine wasn’t something that could easily be traversed - it was wide, and the canyon below was wet, slippery, hard to climb, and full of stalagmites.
Jimmy takes a few steps forward, staring across at the ravine. He feels sick. He looks over to Tango who just looks lost. His back begins to ache. He moves over towards Tango, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
“One way or another, we need to get out of here…” Tango begins, staring off into the distance, “they’ve cut the bridge on their side, so we can pull up our side of the bridge and use the rope to throw across, or climb down or… something.”
“Climbing down would be too dangerous - it’s incredibly deep, and there’s a stalagmite riddled cave down there. If you fell…”
Tango cringes and Jimmy sighs.
“Cmon, let’s at least get the rope and planks pulled up; we can at least try to figure out something with that…” Jimmy moves forward, holding onto the post that anchored the bridge in place, peeking over the edge. It’s… a long, long way down. It’s not the best plan, but it’s all they have right now.
Tango joins him, though he seems a little more hesitant, gripping the other post tightly. Jimmy takes a breath, steeling himself, before he takes another step towards the ravine, taking a knee and inspecting the remnants of the rope bridge that was left behind. He grabs onto one side of the rope and tugs experimentally, making a face when it barely moves. The rope combined with all the planks was going to be considerably heavy for just two people, but they had to make it work.
“I don’t suppose that the miners made any other safer way across?”
Jimmy shakes his head. “No, they had to climb across the walls and build a bridge on the walls as they went, but that bridge has long since collapsed.” He gestures to the far right wall. It’s not entirely obvious, but there are a few large nails and planks still attached to the wall - though nothing stable enough to climb. “The reason we know that there’s stalagmite down there is because someone fell, even with the best climbing equipment, and we had to shift gears for a rescue mission. This mine is… unforgiving, I avoid it if I can, usually.”
That wasn’t a lie, even if his avoidance was more recent. He’s doing his best to ignore the ache in his back, and his head is threatening him with a dizzy spell from all the movement and lack of water, but he grabs onto the anchoring pole tighter. He’s glad he has gloves on so Tango can’t see his knuckles go white with how tightly he’s holding on. Quietly, he hopes that he doesn’t get forcefully knocked out for a third time anytime soon; twice was enough, thanks.
His back hurts. The more he thinks about staying in these mines for an extended period of time, the more that his back aches. He had been able to ignore it in the cage by virtue of Tango being a good distraction. Getting out of their prison had been a doable goal. Getting out swiftly had also been a doable goal up until now.
The ache in his back extends to his head, and he finds himself pressing the ball of his free hand into an eye until it hurts to make the dizziness go away. It doesn’t.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tango anchor himself by wrapping his tail around the other pole. He watches as Tango then takes a step forward, leaning down to inspect his side of the bridge. Their plan wasn’t the best, but it was something to focus on, at least. Jimmy found himself enjoying Tango's company, able to focus on the other enough that the pain dulled.
He forces himself to relax, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, taking a breath and calming himself down, and in that moment he hears a panicked yell.
His eyes snap open and the last thing he sees is the pole that Tango had wrapped his tail around crumbling, and Tango desperately scrambling to grasp something, anything. Jimmy reacts too late, and Tango falls.
Jimmy doesn’t hesitate and jumps into the ravine after him.
For a moment, time seems to slow.
Tango is falling a few feet ahead of him. Jimmy reaches out for his tail, grabbing him and pulling him toward him. Tango lets out a yelp as his tail is grabbed, but can’t do much else before he’s pulled flush against Jimmy’s form.
Jimmy’s back hurts.
He doesn’t know why he jumped into a ravine for a man he’s known for barely two hours, but something in him screamed, something in him acted before he even knew he was jumping.
Jimmy’s back hurts.
It hurts so much more than it ever has before, and he can feel tears in his eyes and he doesn’t know if it’s from the fact that he’s going to die, or from how badly everything hurts. He lets out a sob, knowing it’ll be his last.
Jimmy’s back burns.
His vision goes white.
——————
He’s lying on his side in a dark void. His wings feel warm.
The presence is back, except this time it’s sitting in front of him, he can tell from the warmth radiating from it. There is a hand on his. He wonders if this is the afterlife, or if it’s the last thing he’ll remember before dying. It’s nice. Comforting.
He sighs softly, before letting himself relax. If this was death, maybe it wasn’t so bad.
“Sheriff? Are you awake?”
Jimmy’s eyes shoot open and he stares in front of him. Tango is sitting in front of him, a hand on his. He sits up frantically. He feels the weight of his wings on his back. They feel… real. Nothing like his dreams.
“Am I dead?” he asks, a little stunned,
Tango laughs softly. “No, this is real.”
Jimmy stares at him blankly. He feels his wings flicker on his back and he startles himself with the unfamiliar feeling. He twists around slightly to look at them, letting them stretch out (it's still weird he's the one in control of that, but it feels familiar enough from his dreams).
Canary yellow, just the way he knew they should be.
“What happened?” He shifts back to face Tango. “I remember you falling, I jumped after you and now we're here.”
Tango fidgets, looking past Jimmy and at his wings.
“I fell, and you jumped after me. You grabbed me, and I knew you were trying to twist midair so that you'd land first and I'd have a chance of surviving, so I tried to shove you away, but you just held on tighter.” Tango's gaze looks unfocused.
“Then I felt your tears against my head and I felt bad and I figured we were gonna die, so I grabbed onto your back and then when I did there was a white flash and then you… sprouted giant white wings. You flew us up and out to the other side and passed out for a few minutes. While you were out the white feathers fell out and disappeared, and now you… just have wings?”
Jimmy blinks. His wings feel heavy on his back.
“I… what?”
“I dunno what to tell you, man. You have the wings to prove it if you need convincing.”
Jimmy frowns, letting his wings droop slightly and curl around his form. He reaches back, gently pressing a hand to his back, surprised when there is no pain.
“I… kept having these dreams about losing my wings. I thought they were weird. I've never had wings.”
Tango is looking at him with a weird expression. He ignores it.
“Sometimes there would be someone else with me. Sometimes I was alone. Things felt less… hopeless when they were there. Before I woke up here, it was the first time I didn't lose them. I flew.”
Tango walks over and sits next to him.
“Will you… stay with me?”
Jimmy jerks his head towards to stare at him. Tango is looking down at his lap, his tail flicking with nervous energy betraying his face.
“Isn't that what you said?” he asks softly.
“That was you?” Jimmy stares.
“I've been having dreams about a canary; a little guy down on his luck. Every night when I'd go to sleep I'd wake up in the void with it by my side. I would nurse it back to health, I would encourage it. I would spend all night building an oxygen tank for when it seemed like it felt hopeless.” Tango couldn't stop staring at his wings. Canary yellow.
“Last night it flew for the first time. I heard its voice for the first time, but when I woke up I was in a cage, and I didn't think about it. Until we were falling.”
Jimmy stares at Tango, dumbfounded. Gently, he extends a wing and wraps it around Tango. When Tango doesn't move away, he leans into him slightly.
“Thank you,” he whispers, softly, staring down at his lap. He can feel Tango's gaze on him.
“Thank you for believing in me when I felt like I was going to suffocate and die.”
Tango laughs. “How could I let you suffocate? You only appeared to me on nights when things were bad, warning me to be careful. You're the only reason I'm still alive.”
Jimmy wonders if soulmates are real. He only met Tango today, but he feels like he's known him for a lifetime. Maybe he had, in another life.
“Should we go and kick Ricky the Swift off of his high horse and take back the town?” Tango suddenly asks.
Jimmy blinks before he laughs. He almost forgot why they were in a mine together.
“Sure, but we're talking about this afterwards.”
Tango pulls a face, but Jimmy shifts, sitting in front of him and placing both hands on his shoulders. “I know you're a bandit, but I don't want to see you chased out. I promise I'll keep you safe this time.”
Tango smiles, before he nods slowly.
“Alright. Okay. Let's go.”
“Together?” Jimmy extends a hand.
Tango takes it with a laugh.
“Together.”