Chapter Text
Paddy swore that this was where he laid next to his body, where he held his cold, lifeless hands. Though there was nothing buried in that patch of sand, and the makeshift marker that the boys made for Eoin's grave has disappeared. It was just him now. Him and Eoin, no longer the body. The lifeless body, at least. Of course, Eoin looked pale, rashes here and there, as he’d been buried in the sand for god knows how long. He was weak, and of course Paddy had to take him back to Cairo to get proper care, despite not wanting to go there in the first place.
Eoin had managed to convince the others that he wasn’t dead, or by some miracle, something, somehow, had been keeping him alive. Maybe it was shock, or, some other medical condition they couldn’t understand quite yet. Paddy didn’t believe him, nor did he understand. Kershaw and Seekings was there when they had buried him. But did Paddy care? Of course not. He was concerned, yes, but Eoin was back. Eoin was back.
And just a few days later, everything seemed like it went back to normal. Eoin was fully healed and the boys were back in Kabrit. Paddy and Eoin set up their bed next to each other again, as they did back in the Ulster Rifles. As per usual, Paddy was up reading whatever book he had packed up, just to waste time. Just to feel Eoin’s presence again. The taller man let out an exaggerated sigh, grinning as he glanced at Paddy.
“We’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, and you still manage to find a way to dabble yourself in poetry?” Eoin teased, he knew the answer, yet he felt like he wanted to know again. Paddy turned his head away from the book, nodding at Eoin. He was quiet for a moment, though his mouth was slightly agape as if he wanted to say something, yet nothing came out. He managed to croak out an “Aye.” Paddy’s face was flat again, but his eyes says different. A certain look of longing– something he himself couldn’t explain.
“No petty remarks?” Asked Eoin.
“Nah.”
“Where’d the chatterbox go, huh? You’ve been quiet lately, Paddy.” The Catholic teased, “Did I say something wrong?” He suddenly asked, a little furrow formed on his brows, a hint of concern rising in his expressions.
"It's nothing like that." Paddy stated firmly, going back to his book.
Eoin frowned, Paddy had never acted like this towards him. Not before he died.
“Question, Eoin.” Paddy wasn’t asking, more like demanding. He wanted an answer for the reason he was alive. He could always tell when Eoin wasn’t being quite honest, no one in the regiment knew him like he did, not with the many years they spent together before the war, before the military. He closed his book, slowly sitting upright as he turned to take a proper look at Eoin, the first ever look he’d given him since he found him magically breathing again in the middle of the desert. “Every so often, Eoin, I have a feeling that I do not know you. Perhaps you’re some fucked up creature, taking form of my dearly departed friend, you’d like to tell the truth to me?”
The air became tense, ‘Eoin’ froze in his spot. Paddy’s soul almost jumped out of his skin right then and there when a quarter of his face began to slowly dissolve, amalgamating with something else. Something colorful, yet evil. “Am I not enough? Was my imitation not to your liking? Is it too obvious?” Ah. Paddy was now the one who couldn’t move. He was a poet, yes, but nevertheless he’d never believed in the supernatural. It’s a stupid concept, there were stories in the military, sure, but nothing like this. Perhaps, it was one of those stories he heard as a child back home in Ireland, though again, he’d never heard of something like this.
“I know I’m not your Eoin, Paddy. I borrowed this body, this voice, everything but my experiences, but I promise I’ll never hurt you or your men, unless you ask me to,” The creature said in a hurry, panic blooming in his eyes as he approached Paddy, pulling him into a tight embrace. He couldn’t breathe. “I’ve never been a human, I’ve never felt like this. I’ve been around for centuries, but this is my first ever life, so please, Paddy… don’t snitch on me. I don’t wanna be the one to hurt you.” Eoin mutters, a single teardrop landing on the older man’s shoulder. “I want to love you, Blair.” and how could he refuse? No, it’s not his Eoin, but nonetheless, he was back. And he didn’t want to lose him again. And he wanted for it to be with him.
“Okay,” Paddy reassured.
“It’s good to have you back, Eoin.”