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Jae's knees hit the hard-packed earth.
The impact sends a shock up through his spine, but he barely feels it. He barely feels anything. The world has gone strange and distant at the edges, adrenaline still pumping. Dust lingers in the air, catching in the orange-dawn light, and debris litters the ground around him. Shattered stone, twisted metal, the remnants of a battle lost. The smell of smoke clings to everything.
There is an unreality to it all; a dreamlike quality that makes him want to close his eyes and wake up somewhere else, somewhere clean, a place where Nisha is complaining about the rations and Pavi is playing with Geet and Ruhi.
But it isn't a dream.
Pavi and Nisha—
They really are—
Daemin rushes over, dropping to his knees. “Jae—”
“I failed.” The words come out all hollowed and dead. He doesn't recognize his own voice, and as he hunches forward, arms wrapped around himself, he can feel a trembling start somewhere deep in his chest. It spreads outward, through his limbs, until his whole body is shaking and he cannot make it stop. “I failed them. Pavi and Nisha—I had one job. One. And I couldn't even—I couldn't—I was useless. I was right there, I was right there, and now they're—they're—”
A sob tears out of him, it is an ugly sound, raw and broken, and he hates it. He hates himself for making it. He hates himself for everything.
“They're just kids. They're just—they're children, and I was supposed to protect them. That was the whole point. That was the only thing I had to do. And I didn't. I couldn't. And now they're gone. Because of me. I was right there. I had her hand. I had Nisha's hand, and then I didn't. I don't even—I don't remember letting go. I just remember her face. And then I remember her not being there anymore.”
“Hey—”
“She trusted me. They both did. And I keep thinking—what if I'd been faster? What if I'd gone left instead of right? What if I'd listened when Pavi said she heard something, instead of telling her to stay put? What if I'd just—” His voice cracks. “They must be so scared.”
The thought comes unbidden, and it is worse than everything else. Worse than the guilt, worse than the shame, worse than the hollow ache in his chest where his heart used to be.
“Nisha wouldn't say it. She'd try to hide it. She always does. But I know her. She's still scared of the dark. She's seven, and she's still scared of the dark, and I—”
He sobs harder, the sound tearing at his throat.
“What if they separate them? Neither of them sleeps well alone. Pavi has nightmares. She has nightmares, and she needs someone there, she needs Nisha, she needs—”
Daemin's arms wrap around him.
The embrace is warm and familiar. Daemin's heartbeat presses against his ear, steady and solid, a rhythm that says I am here, I am here, I am here. A hand moves through his hair, slow and absentminded, fingers carding through the tangles.
Jae stills.
He does not mean to, he does not decide to, it simply happens. The trembling eases, the sobs quiet, and he is suddenly, acutely aware of nothing but the weight of Daemin's arms and the steady thrum of his pulse.
“...Do you remember what you said to me? After my first mission?”
“What?" Jae asks, muffed against Daemin's shirt.
"You told me I was an idiot.”
Daemin smiles. Jae cannot see it, but he can hear it in his voice. Practically sense it, actually. That cocky warmth that has always been Daemin’s own armor against the world.
“I mean, I kind of was. I'll admit it. Just this once. For you.” His voice softens, losing its edge. “I thought it was the end of the world. I thought Kathrik would kick me out for sure. All because I mouthed off to some noble who couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map. I was sure my life was over.”
His hand stills in Jae's hair.
"And you told me... you told me that one bad call didn't erase every good one I'd ever made. That the measure of a person isn't in the moment they fall, but in whether they get back up." He is quiet for a moment and when he speaks again his voice is quieter. “I didn't believe you. Not for a long time. I thought you were just saying what people say, you know? The stuff you're supposed to say. But you kept saying it. Every time I messed up, every time I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, you were there. Saying it again. Like you actually believed it.”
Jae's breath hitches. The sobs have faded to a dull, aching thrum somewhere behind his ribs, but the tears are still there, wet against his cheeks.
"So here's the thing. You're going to hate me for this. But I'm going to say it anyway, because you need to hear it."
He pulls back. Just enough to look at Jae. His eyes are fierce and bright.
“You fell. Fine. It happens. It happens to everyone. But you don't get to stay down here. You don't get to make a home in this. Because that's not who you are. You're the one who gets back up. You're the one who always gets back up.”
Jae opens his mouth to argue—because he needs to argue, needs to push back, needs to insist that this is different, that he is different, that Daemin doesn't understand—
"Ah-ah. I'm not done."
Jae closes his mouth.
“You told me I was an idiot. I'm telling you you're an idiot now. We're even.”
“But I let go of her—”
“You didn't.”
The words are firm and absolute, like Daemin is simply stating a fact, and it's not something that can be argued with.
“She was taken from you. There's a difference. They both were. You're going to spend the rest of your life trying to find the exact moment it all went wrong, and you're never going to find it, because it wasn't your fault. It was them. The people who took them. The people we're going to find.”
His voice drops, low and fierce, and determined.
“And when we do, they're going to wish they'd never touched a single hair on those kids' heads. Because you? You're the most stubborn, infuriating, impossible person I've ever met. And if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you don't stop. You never stop.”
He cups Jae's face in both hands. His thumbs trace the sharp lines of Jae's cheekbones, wiping away tears.
“So get up. Not because you owe it to the White Lotus or Kathrik. Not because you owe it to me. Get up because that's what you do. That's who you are.”
Jae stares at him.
The dawn light creeps over the horizon, slow and golden, catching the edges of Daemin's profile. It lights him in something that looks almost out of a painting, and for just a moment, Jae sees something he has never let himself see before…
He clears his throat, cheeks feeling oddly warm.
“...You really think we can find them?”
Daemin's grip tightens slightly. “I don't care what it takes. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if I have to tear this whole place apart with my bare hands. We are going to find them. And then you're going to owe me so many favors I'll be cashing in for the rest of our lives.”
A sound escapes Jae's throat. It is watery and reluctant and almost—almost—a laugh. He does not know where it came from, he does not know how it found its way out of him.
“Deal.”
Daemin grins. It is the same cocky, infuriating grin he has worn since the day they met.
“Good.”
He rises, offering Jae his hand. Jae takes it.
His legs shake beneath him, threatening to give out, but he stands. He stands because Daemin is there, because Daemin's hand is warm and solid in his, because for the first time since the world fell apart, he does not feel entirely alone.
Daemin does not let go.