Chapter Text
Clancy is home again, he should feel ecstatic. They got him back from Dema and the medics say he’s recovering well from what they did to him… but Torchbearer just can’t shake this feeling that something is wrong.
The ink had retreated from his neck, now only covering his hands. Not great, but vastly better than before. Whenever the ink starts to crawl up his skin again, Torch frantically tries to find a way to make him happy, to alleviate his stress. He will always do this for Clancy and hates when he’s away and can’t be there for him, covering him. These times when Clancy needs Torchbearer are known by the rest of the Banditos and they let Torchy do his thing. They don’t know, however, when Torch needs Clancy. Clancy doesn’t know either.
When the Banditos first set up this base, their largest by far, they set up a small agricultural farm to cultivate some seasonal crops. Base meals that are occasionally spiced up by any fruits for game that are brought back after an expedition. Torch was adamant that the food supply be protected and well maintained on a consistent basis, so much so that when the farmers were feeling ill, Torch just stepped into their place. Nobody really understood where this fascination with farming and plants came from, Torch didn’t really know either.
It was odd, seeing their strategic leader, usually on the front lines of some clash with Dema squadrons, stand idly whilst watering beetroot sprouts. Of course they knew he was a tender and thoughtful person, well versed in helping things (and people) grow beyond what they thought possible. It was just… nice to see him slow down. Even when comforting people, Torch was always very tense. Stressed. Especially when it came to Clancy. That’s why when Clancy came back to camp, it was a unanimous vote that Torchbearer had to tend to the garden at least once a week, just something that would keep him occupied. Other than waiting for Clancy to wake after his surgeries. After begging and pleading with him to leave Clancy’s side, promising that he would wake up, that he didn’t need to sit there for weeks on end waiting for him; Torchbearer begrudgingly agreed.
. . .
Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, Torchbearer had set up a little farm of his own a couple kilometres from camp. Well, perhaps garden is the better term. A beautiful little flower garden, cloaked in peace and quiet. It was Torchy's relief from his duties, his solace, his own world created and given life by him. It was a long enough walk away from camp that he was sure that no one would discover it by accident. If anyone was going to see it, he wanted to be the one to introduce them to make sure they didn’t trample the plants or even worse, find him there when he’s having a moment to himself.
Patches of forget-me-nots, sea thrifts, harebells littered the swaying grass of the meadow he’d found and preserved. Tall, lording Nootka lupines outlined the field, their blues and purple-ish hues mixing together to surround the area with a wall of colour. The wind here was calm, not harsh and unforgiving like the winter winds the Banditos face on their mountain camp. A steep hill blocks most of the winds from pursuing the garden, leaving only its remnants in a slow breeze. Torchbearer could not think of how this safe haven could get any better. That was until he introduced a new flower to the mix. The yellow gerbera daisy.
. . .
It’s been two weeks since Clancy’s return to camp and he’s finally been put off bed rest. The Bishops did a number on him this time. He doesn’t want to talk about it and Torchbearer doesn’t push, not yet. Plans for what to do next are still in the works. It’s generous to even call them ideas, more so vague notions of hatred towards Vialism and the nine red-cloaked gofer heads that keep popping up to defend it. So for the time being, things are quiet at camp and Torch is using up most of his newfound spare time to talk to and comfort Clancy. Shocker.
The ink is still only on his hands. Good. Torchbearer can’t bear to think that Clancy, once again, gets consumed or smeared on his watch. No, his best friend is going to stay right by his side. Surely, if he's constantly on alert, constantly watching Clancy, nothing bad will happen to him again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
“Torch? You with us?” Clancy waved his ink-soaked hand in front of Torchbearer's eyes.
“Huh?” His eyes refocused on the man in front of him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.”
“Youuuuu sure ‘bout that? This is like the third time I’ve had to snap you out of–whatever that was–just today.” Concern etched itself onto Clancy’s face. Torch hated it, hated that he was the cause for Clancy’s anguish. He needed to collect himself. He needed his garden.
“I’m sorry about that, I uh…” He trailed off, would Clancy understand? Would he understand that the reason he’s like this is because of him? That he didn’t want to take his eyes off of him? That his safety has been driving him insane? That-
A firm hand grasped his shoulder, a firm reassurance that somebody was there with him.
“Torch.”
“Clancy…”
“If you need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, I’m here for you.” He studied the hooded eyes staring back at him, “We all are.”
“I’m fine, thank you though.”
“Mmmmmm, are you though? It’s not just me, others around camp are becoming worried.”
“Tell them I’m fine then, really-”
“They told me they had to drag you away from me.”
Well shit.
“That you didn’t leave my side for a week whilst recovering? Really? You knew I was going to wake up.”
“But I didn’t, not for sure. You- you just… ugh.”
“I just what?”
“I just never know with you! It’s different every time!”
“What are you talking about?” Clancy didn’t know yet, or if he did, he didn’t know how many times Torchbearer has been through this. It wasn’t his fault.
Torch went silent.
“You need a break.”
He opened his mouth to protest but all that came out was a defeated sigh. “Yeah.”
Clancy stood up from the log they were sitting on, holding out a hand. He helped lift Torchy up, his hand lingering on his forearm as if he were scared that if he let go, Torch would fall. They stood like that for a few seconds before Clancy nodded and walked back to camp, leaving Torch alone with his thoughts.