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Clive wakes slowly, a persistent fogginess clinging to his mind like a jealous bedmate beseeching him to stay for but a while longer. When he manages to pry his eyes open, the first thing he sees is a splash of colour, the familiar glow of a soft flame so well loved.
For as long as he remembers, his eyes have been primed to seek Joshua in every room he is in, every moment in time.
Although Clive has not said a word, Joshua has noticed his new state of awareness. He abandons the chair in favour of settling on the edge of Clive's bed.
"Are you in pain?"
Clive frowns, the question unexpected. A part of him feels that Joshua's very presence here should strike him as strange, but he cannot quite recall why. Before he answers, Joshua has a cup in his hands.
"You should drink some water."
The offer is easily accepted, Clive suddenly made aware of how much he needs the water to untangle his stiff tongue and soothe the raspiness in his throat. Joshua angles the cup to his lips and swipes away the stray liquid that escapes down his jaw. When he puts the empty cup away, his eyes find Clive's once more.
"Joshua…" Clive croaks, "what happened?"
"You succeeded, brother," Joshua says. "You bested Ultima, and cleansed magic from the world. The age of men living on their own terms is upon us…with all the freedom and all the burdens that entails."
The memories rush back to him—of Origin, of the battle for the fate of the world. He also recalls risking it all to attempt a spell so against the natural order that to even try it was counter to what their quest had been for. No man and no Eikon could undo the power of death, after all…and therein lay the limits of even Ultima's power, he discovered.
He remembers lying on the beach watching the last strains of magic fade and allowing himself to let go, to relinquish life itself. And yet he is here in the Hideaway, with Joshua.
Before he can bring himself to ask any more, Gav enters the room with a reluctant Mid, and the infirmary descends into a chaos of tearful reunions.
Over the following days, Clive finds that living as a mere man has its downsides.
Even before he awoke as Ifrit, before he received the Blessing, he was a Dominant even though he was unaware of it. Now, he can feel the regrettable change in his stamina, his strength, his ability to bounce back from fatigue and injury. When he was discovered on that beach, he was at death's door, and the remnants of the Curse were threatening to creep up his arm. To ensure it did not spread to his vitals, Tarja made the decision to cut off the arm entirely—yet unlike in the previous world, there is no magic to speed the healing, no Phoenix's flame to command the body to mend itself from within, and non-magical cures could only do so much to aid natural healing. For a man who always made it a habit to push past pain and exhaustion, the progress is slow, frustrating, frightening in the way it leaves him unable to accomplish the simplest of tasks on his own.
But Joshua is still there.
Clive spends most of his time sleeping or half-awake, and sometimes he feels the weight of a hand on him as Joshua mutters words under his breath, ancient conjurations passed down from Phoenixes of the past. He lets the soft murmurs envelop him and just as he succumbs to dreams again, he feels a stir that just might convince him that a flame is rekindled.
"Today, Clive, we could do something a little different. Tarja said you're well enough to have a proper bath."
It sounds like a dream. Until now, he has depended on Joshua and Jill wiping his body with damp, clean cloths, which did stop his skin from itching or breaking into bedsores, but it is far from the refreshment of a real wash.
The time they pick is past the usual bedtime at the Hideaway. When Joshua arrives to announce the preparations are done and that the only thing still missing is the bather himself, Clive suddenly realises the reason why the idea was too good to be true. On any other occasion, he would not have thought twice about the short distance from the infirmary to the communal baths; he used to traverse the length of the entire Hideaway several times a day to run things through with various people. But now? Even the distance from one end of the room to the other leaves him in need of a break.
Before Clive's determination begins to falter, Joshua wraps his brother's good arm across his own shoulders and leads him into the stairs, step by agonizing step. It is a vivid reminder of the last walk they shared in Origin, when their roles were reversed, and Clive wonders if Joshua is thinking the same. He dares not bring the matter up, saving his breath for the simple task of rhythmic inhales and exhales.
Predictably, the baths are completely deserted when they arrive. A tub is full of steaming water awaits, and Clive is glad to be rid of his sweaty clothes and then carefully lower himself into the water, unable to hold back a deep sigh of contentment. His muscles have been aching for days from strain and stillness alike, and the hot water is a boon beyond imagination.
Joshua observes his enjoyment with a satisfied expression, and then begins to pull his own shirt over his head.
"I trust you don't mind company? For old times' sake."
Clive chuckles lazily.
"By all means."
Even with Mid's spectacular device to purify the water of the mere and keep it piping hot without the use of magic, filling a whole tub just for one person would be considered a waste, after all.
Joshua undresses and joins Clive in the tub, scooping a bit of the water over the edge to avoid the water level from rising so high that the healing stump would get soaked. Clive's eyes trail over Joshua's body in quiet wonder. The chest looks…bare and broad in a way he has never seen it. There is no sign of Ultima's prison, no mark of the Curse wreaking its terrible havoc inside his brother's body. It only now occurs to him that Joshua moves differently, too—the usual habits that he grew so used to in the time he learned to know Joshua again are gone, ways of subtly managing pain and weariness no longer needed. The sight is naturally not unwelcome, but something about it puts him ill at ease.
The steam still rises from the water, and in the quiet of the late night, the hot water relaxing Clive's muscles loosens his tongue, as well.
"Are you…real?"
Joshua stops leisurely dousing water over his arms and shoulders and looks at Clive.
"What makes you ask that?"
Clive's eyes drop to the water between them.
"I…I saw you. With my own eyes."
He can't bring himself to say the most crucial word.
"Even though I tried to use Ultima's power to…to fix it, it…didn't work. And when the crystal fell, I reached for you, but the floor crumbled underneath me and I lost sight of you."
Not even a body to bury himself beside.
"The last thing I remember is washing up on a shore. When I watched the last of the flames flicker out, I thought—"
The emotion overwhelms still, and Clive covers his face with his remaining hand, silent tears escaping underneath.
After a moment of silence, there is the sound of water moving. Joshua's hands are on him, one cupping his cheek and the other grasping his hand.
"You know…I have been having similar thoughts," Joshua confesses. "None of this should be possible, yet we are both here. It feels all too convenient, to have a world where I get to care for you like this."
He laces his fingers with Clive's.
"But the reason why I'm inclined to think this isn't just some dream or illusion in my head…is that in any fantasy I conjured, I surely would be able to heal you."
Joshua's hand descends from Clive's cheek and hovers over the aching stump. He closes his eyes and tenses in concentration, yet nothing comes. When he opens his eyes, he looks mournful.
"It was always second nature, like humming a familiar tune. But now, even though my mind and body remember the feeling…the flame does not answer my call because it's no longer there."
He lets his hand slide back underwater and smiles at Clive.
"For this reason, I can't help but reach the conclusion that through some strange turn of events, we are both alive and this world is the one we worked so hard to bring into existence."
Clive considers this for a moment. Then, he tugs at their joined hands and Joshua understands him implicitly, shimmying closer and rising on his knees so his head is slightly above the other's. Clive presses his ear against Joshua's chest and feels the steady thumping of the heart as nimble fingers toy with his matted hair—it yet needs to be washed, but at the moment, this takes precedence.
"I suppose you're right," he murmurs after a while. "As afterlife, this hardly qualifies either paradise or damnation. And if this were a product my imagination, I definitely would've given you something better to do than to change these Founder-forsaken bandages all the time."
The sound of laughter above makes Clive shiver with satisfaction. Joshua slides deeper into the water again.
"I assure you I have many ideas…but you have to get better first. Tarja will kill me otherwise."
You found it easy enough to ignore her when it was you who wasn't supposed to exert yourself, Clive thinks but does not voice the thought, for the reason is clear enough for both of them—although they never addressed it head-on, they both could always feel the blade hanging above their heads, their stolen time running through their fingers like sand.
It feels strange to give up that feeling of urgency, the constant fear of losing Joshua again.
"We have time," Clive says with a nod, reassuring himself and his brother alike.
"We have time," Joshua concurs and presses their foreheads together. "So much you'll grow weary of seeing my face."
Clive smiles as their noses brush against each other.
"Let's see you try to make it happen."