Chapter Text
Juan was back.
Foolish had heard the rumor from three different people, and the second he read Juan's message, he had already stopped building and started moving. He took the grand steps of the mansion two at a time, his feet thudding heavily against the wooden stairs. He was still covered in the dust and grit from his last few hours at the temple, dried sand caked into the creases of his hands and tangled in his hair.
He didn’t care.
Right now, he just needed to see him.
The foyer was quiet, the usual hum of the mansion settling around him as he stepped inside. He rushed upstairs and checked Juan's office first, then his room, coming up empty both times. Maybe he was out somewhere. Maybe he'd gone to find someone, or was handling something that couldn't wait. Foolish was already heading back down the stairs, trying to figure out where else to look, when he caught the sound of voices drifting from the dining area.
He followed the sound around the grand staircase, his heart hammering against his ribs, and stopped dead in the archway of the dining room.
Juan was seated at the long table, alive, and deep in conversation with Multi, who seemed to be visiting.
The second Foolish came around the corner, Juan looked up.
For a split second, a look of pure, overwhelming relief flashed across Juan's face. But he caught himself instantly. Like a reflex, Juan smoothed his expression out, leaning back in his chair to try and act completely casual. He was the Second-in-Command Deluxe, after all. He wasn't about to lose his cool or show how desperate he had been to see his best friend and rival again, especially not with a guest like Multi sitting right across from him.
"Oh, Foolish," Juan said, his tone deliberately level, as if Foolish had just gone out to grab the mail rather than being missing in the woods for over a week. "You're back. Welcome."
Multi turned in his seat and gave a polite, measured wave. "Hello, Foolish."
Foolish was the complete opposite. He didn't bother matching the mood, and he certainly didn't care about looking cool. His eyes lit up, the green glow of his gaze flaring with genuine, unrestrained excitement.
"YOU'RE back! Juan!" he yelled, the sound booming through the quiet dining room. He didn't even look at the guest. "Multi—hi—"
Foolish crossed the room in three strides and didn't hesitate for a second as he grabbed Juan by the shoulders, hauled him up from his chair, and pulled him into a crushing, tight hug.
"You're alive!" Foolish laughed, the words coming out a little breathless as he squeezed him. "Welcome back, man."
Juan froze, his arms hovering uselessly in the air.
He had spent ten days being beaten, isolated, and broken down by the Federation. The past few days had been a blur of high-alert anxiety, jumping at every shadow as he tried to distract himself with constant work. But as Foolish's arms wrapped around him, the fragile front Juan was trying to put up shattered entirely. He gave up.
He let out a long, shaky breath, closing his eyes tightly as he finally lowered his arms, wrapping them around Foolish's wide back and hugging him just as hard. Leaning his weight into the embrace, Juan felt a massive wave of tension drain out of his muscles.
For the first time since he got trapped in that white room ten days ago, he felt like he could actually breathe.
But Foolish couldn't help but notice the strange texture beneath his hands.
Juan was wearing a full set of heavy netherite armor. It felt cool and rigid to the touch, the sharp edges of the alloy digging into Foolish’s arms.
It was really odd that Juan was geared up for a war inside his own dining room.
Foolish’s mind raced with questions, but he ignored them for the moment, too relieved to have him back to push the issue right now.
The sound of Multi politely clearing his throat broke the silence.
"Um, Foolish," Multi said from his seat at the table. "I actually have a few questions for you too, if that's alright."
Juan immediately snapped back to reality. His face flushed a dark red, and he shoved Foolish away with both hands, clearing his throat loudly. "Right. Yes. Sit down, you big idiot."
Foolish just laughed, completely unbothered by the shove, and pulled up a chair to join them.
The next ten minutes were, by any reasonable measure, a disaster.
Multi tried to ask serious questions about what happened to his workers and the homeless guy involved in the incident. Foolish answered approximately none of the questions seriously. He laughed at completely inappropriate moments, gave answers that somehow raised more questions than they solved, and at one point said something so nonsensical that even Juan, who had been trying to hold down his own laughter, completely lost it, hiding his face in his hands as his shoulders shook with laughter.
Multi watched them both in disbelief.
"I am going to leave now," Multi said eventually. He stood up, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape against the floor. He looked at them both for a long, lingering moment with what could only be described as deep concern. "Good luck to both of you."
The moment Multi's footsteps faded out toward the front doors, Juan grabbed Foolish by his arm, his grip surprisingly tight.
"Come with me," Juan ordered, his voice dropping the playful tone as he tried to mask the lingering warmth of the reunion with raw authority. "To my office!"
He dragged Foolish out of the dining area, marching him up the grand staircase and into his office without slowing down. The moment the oak door clicked shut behind them, Juan moved straight behind his desk, pacing the small stretch of carpet as he started their private debrief.
Foolish dropped heavily into the chair across from him, leaning back and resting his ankle on his knee as he watched Juan talk.
Juan rambled. He talked fast, waving his arms as he talked about Aldo turning himself over to the Federation just to secure Juan's release. He ranted extensively about Katie's sudden wedding to Tomate, a literal Federation worker, and how the marriage hadn't even lasted a single day because Tomate completely vanished into thin air right after the ceremony.
Foolish chimed in where there was space, filling in his own gaps in the timeline. At some point, he got to the part about his camping trip idea, explaining it the way it had made perfect sense to him at the time: when Aldo's master plan had fallen apart, Foolish figured a different approach was worth trying, and camping had seemed like the best logical next step.
"Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out because there was actually a genius plan behind it," Foolish insisted, leaning forward and waving his hands animatedly. "Clearly, we can't just barge in and fight the Feds if we can't even scratch them, right? But you know how that Fatal Error entity is out there on the loose? I figured that if I go out into the wilderness, track this thing down, and capture it, then bam! We can use it against the Federation! With that kind of power, I could've busted you and Aldo right out of that facility!"
Juan stared at him. The silence stretched for a long, agonizing second as Juan's brain processed the sheer audacity of what he had just heard.
"That is the single stupidest string of logic I have ever heard in my entire life," Juan said, his expression completely deadpan.
"Well, what else was I supposed to do!?" Foolish threw his arms up defensively, his voice immediately pitching higher. "Huh? What other option was there, Juan? Tell me!"
"I don’t know! Literally anything that isn't the most insanely difficult and suicidal plan possible!" Juan snapped back, rubbing his temples like Foolish's words were physically giving him a migraine.
"It was worth a shot!"
Juan just let out a long, suffering groan, waving him off as if trying to physically bat the stupidity away.
But as the minutes ticked by, the bickering naturally ran out of steam. Foolish stopped defending his great decisions and quieted down. He mostly just listened as Juan continued to ramble on, his eyes drifting back to Juan's appearance.
The ugly, dark yellow bruising visible just above the collar of the armor was hard to miss. Dark patches ran along his arm, and a healing black eye had faded to a sickly purple.The thick medical cast on Juan's left arm was the worst of it, an injury Juan hadn't mentioned once and clearly had no intention of bringing up, still gesturing with it stiffly like it wasn't a hindrance. And the way Juan moved behind the desk had a slight, guarded carefulness to it that Foolish recognized as someone being very deliberate about their injuries.
But most importantly, he noticed that the armor looked ridiculous on him.
"You look dumb with the armor on," Foolish blurted suddenly, cutting Juan off mid-sentence.
Juan's hands stopped mid-gesture. He looked down at the dark metal plating, then back up at Foolish, his face twisting into an expression of deep, personal offense.
"No, I don't. It looks great. It makes me look incredibly cool." He pointed his good arm across the desk. "Unlike you, who looks like a monster."
"Why are you even wearing it?" Foolish pressed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, ignoring the monster comment. "We're inside your office, Juan. There's literally no one here but me."
Something subtle shifted in Juan's expression. A small, fragile crack in the mask, quickly covered up. He crossed his arms defensively, the heavy chest plates clanking loudly with the movement.
"Just because," Juan said dismissively. "I like it. It keeps me safe." He lifted his chin slightly, forcing a scoff. "What, a man can't appreciate personal protection anymore?"
Foolish's eyes narrowed slightly, his green gaze tracking the way Juan's posture had gone rigid. "You never wear armor," he said, his voice slower this time, like he was piecing a puzzle together out loud. He hesitated, a thought sinking in, then added, "Is this... because of the kidnapping?"
Juan flinched.
It was a small, full-body jerk, his shoulders bunching up defensively toward his ears before he quickly tried to smooth the motion out. But the visceral reaction alone answered the question perfectly.
"No," Juan said far too quickly, his eyes darting away to stare at the bookshelves.
"Juan," Foolish said, his voice flat with obvious disbelief.
Juan was quiet for a few long seconds, his hands dropping to rest heavily on the edge of the desk. Slowly, the defensive puff of his chest deflated. He looked down at his own hands instead, his fingers subconsciously tracing the rough fiberglass edge of his medical cast. The broken bone was healing, and the worst of the physical bruises from his ten days in that Federation hellhole were starting to fade, but Foolish could see that the invisible damage was still wide open.
"Look, it really sucked, okay?" Juan finally admitted, his voice cracking slightly on the words. "That place... it was horrible. They isolated me in this white room, Foolish. No food. Barely any water. And every single time the door opened, it was just to hurt me."
He let out a shaky, exhausted breath, as if just saying the words out loud took more physical effort than he expected. His pacing had stopped entirely. He brought his right hand up, gripping tightly at his own sleeve like he desperately needed something solid to hold onto.
For a second, his brown eyes drifted past Foolish, unfocused.
White walls. No corners to hide in. No sense of time.
The terrifying click of the heavy door unlocking. The thud of boots against the sterile floor. Faceless workers in crisp uniforms.
A flicker of charred, black bones. The unsettling, hollow rattle of joints. Towering figures boxing him in, surrounding him while he had absolutely nothing to defend himself with.
Something sharp catching the fluorescent light.
Juan flinched again, sharp and sudden, his breath hitching hard in his throat as if something invisible had just struck him.
"—uan!"
Foolish's voice wasn't loud, but it had a sharp, grounded weight to it that cut straight through the deafening noise of the memory.
Juan blinked rapidly. The blinding white of the facility fractured, and the warm mahogany of his office rushed back into his senses. He looked at Foolish, realizing that he had moved. The totem hybrid hadn't reached out to grab him, knowing better than to touch a cornered, panicked man, but he had leaned far forward, resting his forearms heavily on the dark wood of the desk. He had shifted closer into Juan's direct line of sight, his green eyes fixed entirely on him with a quiet, intense worry.
"Juan," Foolish repeated softly, making sure he had his friend's attention before pushing forward. "You were saying?"
Juan sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, forcing his trembling shoulders down. He gripped his sleeve tighter, needing the solid feel of the thick fabric to anchor himself in the present. He looked at Foolish, seeing the genuine, unfiltered concern on the taller man's face, and internally cursed at himself for letting his mind slip away so easily.
"I don't want it to happen again," Juan whispered. “It hurt so bad."
Foolish stayed perfectly still. His usual easy expression replaced with something tight and serious. His eyes flicked briefly down to the cast and the fading bruises again, then locked back onto Juan's face.
Juan shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy silence, but the gentle prompt from Foolish gave him the push he needed to continue.
"Every time I'm not wearing this, I feel..." Juan hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as if the confession tasted bitter. “…naked.”
He brought his arms up, wrapping them tightly around his own torso. His fingers dug hard into the cold metal plates, pressing into the netherite like he needed to feel it, to be sure it was still there.
"Like someone's about to jump me from behind a corner. It's stupid, I know, but I can't—"
"It's not stupid, Juan," Foolish interrupted, "The Feds do just show up whenever they want. But you can’t let them keep you in that thing forever."
Juan exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a frustrated, self-deprecating scoff. "I'm too scared to go out without it, Foolish. Sometimes... sometimes even inside the mansion."
He glanced toward the office door without meaning to, just for a moment. The thought that a Federation worker could be standing right on the other side of that wood, quietly listening in, sent a cold spike of unease straight down his spine.
"I just feel safer as long as I have the armor to protect me," Juan finished, his voice trembling slightly before he forced it to steady.
It felt wrong to see Juan like this. Juan was supposed to be loud, expressive and insufferable. Seeing him shrunk down into the safety of a dark suit of armor, terrified of everything beyond the mansion walls, felt deeply wrong.
Foolish knew he couldn't let Juan rot in this mansion forever. Isolation from the outside world would only make the paranoia worse. He needed controlled exposure. He needed a place where Juan could control his surroundings and just breathe actual fresh air again.
"I have an idea," Foolish said, a familiar, slightly mischievous grin slowly creeping back onto his face. "We're going camping."
Juan dropped his arms, staring at Foolish like the man had just grown a second head. "Did you hear a single word I just said? I am terrified of the outside, and your brilliant plan is to put me in a tent?"
"Not just any tent!" Foolish countered, sitting up straighter and waving a hand excitedly. "My campsite! I literally spent weeks building it. It's way out in a secluded spot, super deep in the woods. No Federation members are allowed there. Just us." He paused, puffing his chest out proudly. "And as the official scoutmaster, I'll keep you safe. What do you say?"
"I say you are an idiot," Juan replied flatly.
But he didn't completely reject the idea. He looked at Foolish for a long, quiet moment, his mind working. Then he looked down at the heavy, suffocating armor strapped to his chest. He was so tired of carrying it.
"Is there at least a fence?" Juan asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
"Better," Foolish said, his grin widening into something deeply reassuring. "You've got me there. Just a few days, Juan. Come on. If you hate it, we pack up and come right back."
Juan stared at him for a long second, his eyes searching Foolish's face like he was desperately trying to find a valid reason to say no. He couldn't find one.
"Fine," Juan grumbled, looking away.
That was all the agreement Foolish needed.
They quickly agreed to split off and pack, planning to meet downstairs in exactly an hour.
Juan disappeared into his quarters, and Foolish took the stairs back down toward his own room. He jumped in the shower first, washing the temple dust and dried sand out of his hair, before throwing on his camping gear and pulling his pack together.
An hour later, Foolish was standing by the front doors, dressed in his practical, lightweight camping attire, his pack slung easily over one shoulder. He looked up as he heard Juan's footsteps descending the stairs.
Juan reached the bottom, dropped his bag on the floor, and immediately unzipped it, starting to frantically rifle through it.
Clothes. Canteen. Rations. Flashlight. Sword.
He checked every single pocket. Then he zipped them up and checked them again. His hands moved with a restless, slightly mechanical focus. He was on his third full pass through the side pouches when Foolish realized he wasn't actually looking for anything at all. He was stalling.
Foolish shifted the weight of his own backpack, his eyes drifting over Juan's attire. He was still wearing the full set of netherite.
"You do know we're going camping, right?" Foolish asked gently. "Like, walking through a thick forest and hiking up dirt trails?"
"Yeah," Juan muttered, his eyes glued to the zipper of his bag. His hands were shaking slightly as he pulled it closed. "Why?"
"Are you absolutely sure you want to bring the armor? All of it?" Foolish took a slow step closer, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "It's heavy, man. It's gonna make you miserable, and nothing is going to happen out there. You're going to be fine—"
"Foolish."
Juan's voice came out tight, strained, and razor-sharp. It was a single word, but it held enough raw panic to make Foolish snap his mouth shut immediately.
Juan didn't look up. "Can we just go? Please."
Foolish looked at him for a long moment. He looked at the white-knuckle grip Juan had on the straps of his bag. He looked at the rigid tension of Juan's shoulders buried underneath the heavy black metal.
"Alright," Foolish said. "Yeah. Let's go."
He turned and stepped out into the bright, warm afternoon sun. He walked down the first few steps before glancing back just once over his shoulder to check.
Juan stood frozen in the doorway for a long moment. His hands tightened on the straps of his bag. Then, he closed his eyes, took a sharp, trembling breath, and stepped over the threshold.
Together, they walked out into the sun