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Mapicc should not be thinking about Spoke.
But here he is, walking through the silent biomes of the Farlands with one person on his exhausted mind.
He shouldn’t miss him: a blatant liar, a manipulator, somehow dragging Mapicc along all this time. Self-serving and egotistical. Never telling the full truth.
And also his former best friend.
Mapicc doesn’t like slotting that word in there— former— but he supposes that’s what they are now. The worst part is that he misses him so badly nonetheless. With every step deeper into the biomes, he gets an aching feeling like he’s forgetting something important.
He cannot get the sight out of his head, and he doubts he ever will, of Spoke’s totem popping, the chestplate shattering, of the dread in his eyes, the franticness in his voice.
That was just a few hours ago. And now Mapicc is walking alone, just him and his thoughts and the tall trees mocking how small he feels without his friend.
He wishes he didn’t care so much.
——
It’s quiet, unsettlingly so. Just the meager breeze rustling the grass below and leaves above. Mapicc doesn’t know where he’s going, exactly, mostly hoping that he wanders into a friendly rebel camp. Given how distracted he is, he doubts he’d even notice any sign of one.
As he walks, his mind wanders. Spoke always had a way of making long journeys better, cracking a joke or talking about anything at all. Now the silence drills into Mapicc’s ears; he glances around warily and sees nothing new. His fight with Spoke had taken a hit on his supplies, but at least he still has his sword, armor, food.
With each step, the landscape only looks the same as ever. Mapicc has half a mind to stop and wonder if he’s lost—
—When he hears the jarring sound of a portal activating.
Instinctively, he hides himself back against the nearest tree trunk, holding his breath as he turns and tries to catch a glimpse of whatever is about to go down.
He’s expecting an army, NULL soldiers pouring out of a nether portal to finally capture him—
And he does see a portal, but just two people come out of it.
The first one, Mapicc recognizes instantly, and the sight prompts a twinge of relief that he fights to swallow down. It’s Spoke, shoved out of the portal and into the Overworld, sprawled on the grass. He looks exhausted.
A stoic figure stands above him, silent. Jamato’s pristine armor trims stand out against Spoke’s frail state.
“Just kill me,” Spoke is pleading, voice weak.
Jamato takes his time with his reply; he’s casually wiping some nether-dust off of his own chestplate. “No. I’ll leave that part to him.”
“What?” Spoke croaks out, lifting his head. “Who?”
Jamato tilts his head down at him, almost pitifully.
“You promised you’d let me see him again. You promised.”
“I did,” Jamato says calmly. “And here you are.”
Spoke warily glances around the empty forest. Quickly slinking out of sight, Mapicc tucks himself further back behind the cover of his tree. This is not good.
“Goodbye, Spoke,” he hears Jamato say, voice calm. “I hope you learned something.”
Spoke’s voice is bordering on frantic. “What? What? He’s not even here. You— dumped me into… I— I’m going to starve here! Where are you—”
The telltale sound of something like glass shattering. The next time Mapicc sneaks a glance over, the portal is broken, just an empty obsidian frame that Spoke is staring dejectedly at.
He still hasn’t spotted Mapicc.
Mapicc turns away, leaning back against the tree trunk, carding a hand through his hair and suppressing a slew of curses. This was the last person he wanted to see.
A tiny part of him can’t help but feel monumental relief that Spoke is even alive. Considering his sword and chestplate were broken— Mapicc winces at the memory— he must not have had much luck out there on his own. Clearly, not enough to avoid being captured by Jamato.
Still, it doesn’t make the moment any less inconvenient. There was nothing he could possibly say to Spoke after their last encounter.
But now he’s stranded here, with just a broken portal and his best friend a handful of steps away.
Former best friend, he corrects numbly.
Mapicc has gone still against the tree, staying out of sight as he listens to Spoke quietly sniffle to himself.
All Mapicc can do is shut his eyes and mentally curse again. He can’t understand why Spoke isn't leaving already.
The better question is, why isn’t Mapicc leaving? He could go right now, put distance between himself and the manipulator who lied to him for so long. If he had nothing more to say to him, why was he sticking around?
Mapicc doesn’t want to admit he knows why.
That’s when he hears a cracking sound, and he almost flinches. He glances over— it’s coming from Spoke; he’s found a rock and is trying to smash it against the obsidian frame. Trying to create a spark and light the portal.
Mapicc thinks that over.
He’s used to Spoke’s blockheaded ideas, but just what is he hoping to achieve with this? The portals never mean anything good. Lighting it, if anything, will just set more NULL directly on his tail. With no armor, no weapons? They’d kill him in an instant.
Unless that’s exactly what Spoke wants.
Mapicc flattens himself back against the dark wood of the tree, totally at a loss. His best friend— former best friend— just a few steps away, working through a death plan, and he had no idea what to do. Mapicc listens to Spoke murmur tearful words to himself, and even though it’s nothing decipherable, it crumbles his heart all the way.
He should not have sympathy for him. Mapicc should leave, but.. this is Spoke.
Spoke, who knew him so well, who he could always count on. Who he’d gotten so used to seeing at his side, with that grin, with those never-ending streams of jokes mid-battle. Spoke, who was always so worried for Mapicc, who always insisted he set a pearl stasis when he went out, and who always made sure they had a safe base to come back to.
Now it was just the two of them, millions of blocks from home in the Farlands, just wind-swept silence broken by Spoke’s muffled pleas to nobody at all. He was still trying to light the portal, on his knees as he fruitlessly tried to make some spark appear.
What had Jamato said before leaving? He was counting on Mapicc to kill Spoke? The thought is so foreign.
He stares down at the metal of his sword and grips the hilt tighter. The metal was barely clean enough to catch a glimpse of Mapicc’s own reflection, tired eyes and all.
Before he can convince himself otherwise, Mapicc wills himself to step out, further into the clearing.
Anyone would have heard his steps as he walked through the grass, but Spoke seems too lost in his own mind to notice.
It’s only when Mapicc’s long, evening shadow falls across the obsidian frame that Spoke blinks, turns, and looks up.
They both seem to share a feeling of simultaneous relief and dread.
It’s the first time that Mapicc has seen Spoke since the cave, and he looks plain awful. Red-tinted nether ash is caked in his hair and sleeves. Streaks of tears run lines down his face, and his palms are raw from when he was dumped onto the forest floor. The stone in his hand drops to the floor.
“Mapicc?” Spoke whispers in realization, and his voice is so small that it barely carries over the still air.
In turn, Mapicc says nothing, mouth dry. It’s mostly because he’s trying to figure out what they’ve been doing to Spoke for him to look and sound this awful.
Spoke bows his head, taking his silence in stride. “Look, I get it. Just… just do it.”
That’s exactly when Mapicc finds his voice. “What?”
“Get it over with.”
He makes a dry, scoffing sound when he realizes what he’s getting at. “I’m not here to kill you.”
“He said you would. And you should.”
“I’m not.”
Spoke sits with that. Only after a long pause does he lift his head, red-rimmed eyes and all.
Suddenly, and before Mapicc can even react, Spoke makes a grab for the hilt of Mapicc’s sword and aims the sharp end squarely at his chest. Mapicc yelps and yanks it away in an instant.
“Jesus, Spoke, what are you doing?”
“You have to do it,” he pleads, and his eyes are wet again. “I deserve it. I do. I—”
“You, you, you!” Mapicc shoots back, and the words shut Spoke up immediately. He jabs the sword into the ground. “It’s always about you— that’s the problem, isn’t it? You never, ever think about anyone but yourself. You never wondered about what I was feeling, or thinking— just serving yourself! From the beginning!”
Every heated word is driving Mapicc closer and Spoke backwards, until eventually the latter stumbles into the obsidian, one hand covering his face.
“I always trusted you,” Mapicc seethes. “I told you everything, I went with you everywhere.”
Spoke turns away, and he’s really crying now, slinked back against the portal frame. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, Mapicc, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough. “For the lies, and the— the secrets. You’re right, you’ve been right, I’m a rotten friend. I always have been.”
Mapicc says nothing. He can only hear his own breathing, his own blood rushing in his head. “That much we know.”
“Mapicc. Mapicc, I’m so sorry, I swear. Please, I’m sorry.”
“And what is it that you want me to say to that?” he asks bitterly. “Honestly?”
“I don’t know,” Spoke replies helplessly, swiping a hand across his tearful face. “But I’m sorry, for everything, and— and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Spoke swallows, wipes his eyes meagerly and then lets his hand drop in his lap. “I tried to kill Jamato twice,” he starts bluntly, and Mapicc goes still as stone. “I killed those bounty hunters. I— I led all of Jumper’s spies to their death. I burned down that village. I killed Rose. The…” Spoke looked up. “Mapicc, I lied to you. I lied to you so much. I— I didn’t tell you about Jamato, or the exploits, or the bounty hunters, or Capital City…”
Mapicc furrows his brows. “What about Capital City?”
Spoke hesitates, shaky hands thumbing his own shirt hem. He takes in a shaky breath but says nothing.
“What about Capital City?” Mapicc insists again.
“I built a bomb,” he admits, so very quietly. “I was going to destroy it.”
Mapicc blinks, takes a single step backwards. Spoke seems to wince at the loss in proximity.
“You what?”
“Back when you went missing,” he hurries to explain, voice still sounding frail. “I thought you were dead. That’s what everyone told me. But I needed to be sure, because I thought they were hiding something… I thought…”
As his words collapsed into silence, Mapicc’s eyes fell on his ash and tear-streaked face.
“I’m sorry,” Spoke chokes out. “I was so stupid. I’m so sorry, please, Mapicc, I’m sorry. Tell me you believe me. I’ll do anything, anything, Mapicc, I swear it.”
His tearful pleas taper off into wordless mumbles. It’s while Mapicc is looking over him with such pity it makes his chest hurt, that a realization settles into place:
Mapicc really should have known all along just how dedicated Spoke was to him.
Spoke would never beg for anybody’s forgiveness, he would never cry, would never admit he was wrong. But he would threaten to destroy a city, would venture to the Farlands, would kill and cheat, would worry, would allow himself to be seen at his worst.
And only when it came to one person.
Mapicc stared down at his best friend, reduced to a mumbling mess of ash and tears. He should hate him, but he can’t, and it’s only ever been a losing game.
“Spoke,” he says to him flatly. “Get up.”
Dutifully, slowly, he gets to his feet. His head is bowed slightly, but his eyes are still meeting Mapicc’s. He looks exhausted.
Without another word, Mapicc takes Spoke by the shoulder, and then pulls him into a hug they both desperately need.
Spoke goes still for a single moment, and then melts into his hold with a choked sob, burying his face in the crook of Mapicc’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, trembling hands clutching tighter around Mapicc. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” Mapicc says numbly, because it’s all he can think to say. With one hand rubbing between his shoulder blades, he holds him infinitesimally closer. “I know.”
That seems to quiet him down somewhat. Mapicc looks down at the trembling Spoke that’s clinging to him, and sees that there are burn marks along his friend’s skin; his clothes are singed in some places and burned in others.
Mapicc swallows hard. “You were with Jamato, right?” When no reply comes, he prompts further, “What did he do to you?”
Spoke doesn’t seem to hear. He keeps on mumbling teary apologies into Mapicc’s collar.
Mapicc realizes numbly that this really is not the time for questions. He guides the two of them to sit against the portal frame, and Spoke doesn’t loosen his hold for a second, charred fingertips only tightening around Mapicc’s sleeves.
“Spoke,” he coaxes. “C’mon, bro, say something.”
“I’m sorry,” Spoke mumbles again.
Mapicc pulls back from the embrace a bit and holds Spoke by the elbow, looking over his tired face. He wants to say something but can’t find the words.
“Here,” Mapicc decides to offer, and turns to rummage through his meager pack. “Eat something.”
He pulls out the few golden carrots he has left, but Spoke just stares at them, eyes all red with tears and tiredness. Then he looks up and asks Mapicc, “You believe me, right? You— He’s behind all of this. Jamato is. Mapicc, I swear, I swear, it was all him.”
Mapicc stares down at his lap. He doesn’t want to admit that he’d been watching when he was shoved here through the portal, but he supposes that this is no time for omissions.
“I, uh, overheard what Jamato said to you, a little while ago.”
Spoke goes very still. “Did you,” he says, and it is not a question.
“Yes. Look, you didn’t deserve that,” Mapicc continues. “I believe you about Jamato. And I would’ve from the start, if you just told me.”
“I had no choice.”
“Yeah, you did, actually,” Mapicc corrects. “Now, can you eat something?”
Spoke looks down at the golden carrots and just shakes his head slightly. “I feel sick.”
More stubborn concern bubbles up in Mapicc’s ribcage. “What did he do to you?”
Spoke pauses, and his eyes flick away. “Nether. Took me to the Nether.”
Mapicc knows that much— the ash is a dead giveaway. “And, um, are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and it seems like he’s being genuine. “Mapicc, he told me that you wanted me dead.”
“I don’t want you dead,” he assures him immediately.
Spoke doesn’t reply to that and doesn’t give any indication that he believes Mapicc. Whether he realizes it or not, his hands are wrapping around himself, fingertips digging into the fabric of his charred shirt.
It's deeply strange to see Spoke acting this way.
Mapicc, with his palm, reaches over and wipes some of the ash from Spoke’s face. He doesn’t seem to have the energy to protest at this fussing.
Spoke asks, so quietly, “Are you gonna leave me?”
Mapicc shakes his head. “No, bro, I’m not gonna leave.”
Spoke again goes quiet at that, just nodding slightly in acknowledgment. It’s during that stretch of silence that Mapicc nudges the stone that Spoke had been trying to light the portal with.
“That was a stupid idea,” he notes aloud.
Spoke mumbles out, “Probably.”
“No, it really was. Just like…” He scoffs in disbelief. “Were you really going to blow up Capital City?”
His voice doesn’t go any less numb. “I thought you were dead.”
Mapicc sighs, trying to piece it all together. There’s a whole lot more he wants to ask about, but they have time. “You’re too much, bro. Seriously.”
“Sorry.”
Mapicc has to stifle a smile. “Gah, shut up with the sorry’s already. This is not like you.”
Spoke is halfway through an instinctive ‘sorry’ when Mapicc pulls him into another hug, quieting him down. Mapicc missed him, in all honesty, and even though he won’t be quick to forgive and forget, he certainly doesn’t want him dead or split from him again.
“I wanna go home,” Spoke mumbles into his shoulder.
They’re millions of blocks into the Farlands, NULL and BAT are after them, and there’s no telling if their base is intact, let alone if they’re ever getting out of here.
And still, Mapicc can’t bring himself to say anything less than hopeful.
“We will.”