Chapter Text
As soon as they got the green light, Jonathan got Teddy out of that stuffy room. The doctor explained to him Teddy's condition, and the additional care it would require. That even if Teddy had been incredibly lucky, he did still suffer a hit to the left side of his brain, meaning significant muscle weakness on the right side of his body. He would likely never fully recover. Jonathan had trouble digesting that. Teddy, is his mind, was this fierce untamable stallion. Wildly unpredictable. Nearly indestructible, but with a softness in his eyes that Jonathan chased like an addict.
They moved to a safe house on the outskirts of Medellín, helpfully supplied by Martín. Jonathan supposed that at this point, he quite literally owed him his life. He must find a proper way to thank him, one day.
The house wasn't big, yet it didn't feel cramped. It had these huge floor the ceiling windows on the north side, giving the sun free range. Quite beautiful, really. Not that Teddy saw much of it.
He spend his days in the main bedroom with the bigger bed. Jonathan had no problem letting him have it, as Teddy needed it more than him. He himself occupied the smaller room, with a something he hesitated to even call a bed. He had to curl up just to fit.
He didn't mind, he didn't waste much time sleeping anyway.
In the small hours, the blue light of his laptop kept him company, his bloodshot eyes flickering restlessly over the screen. Among others things, he tried to contact Angela Burr. He called, used different aliases, approached allies, but all to no avail. Worry began to pool deep in his gut, mixing in with the constant anxiety he already felt.
And there was yet another reason to worry.
Teddy wasn't talking to him. Whenever they sat together at the breakfast table, whenever Jonathan helped him with his eye drops, whenever they went for a walk, Teddy didn't speak.
In fact, Teddy hadn't said a word to him since the hospital.
So, the next time they went out, Jonathan gently tried to prompt him again. "It's a nice day, isn't it?" His hand hovered near Teddy's elbow, in case he lost his balance. No answer. He sighed quietly. "Are you alright, Teddy?"
He saw a muscle in Teddy's jaw tighten.
He quickly added: "Look, I know you're not alright, I don't expect you to be." He let out a light chuckle. "I'm not alright either."
That much was true. During the day he was mostly fine, but when the sun went down, the shadows in his mind took over. He drowned in endless guilt; guilt for what had happened, for the lives it had cost. All in vain. Roper had won anyway.
Sometimes, he could hardly see himself in the mirror. Who was staring back? What had been real, and what was just pretend? Had any of it even been real? In the end, it didn't even matter. Pine, Birch, Ellis. All part of the same rotten core. Death clung to him like tar.
Jonathan cleared his throat. "I know about the nightmares," he said quietly.
Teddy whipped his head up, his eyes furious. If he were a dog, his teeth would be bared. But Jonathan could see through him by now. His metaphorical tail was tucked between his legs.
"You talk in your sleep," Jonathan continued apologetically. "The walls are thin."
Teddy turned away, quickening his step. His right foot dragged behind ever so slightly.
"I have them too," Jonathan said. He had no trouble keeping up with Teddy. "It's nothing to be ashamed about. You can tell me about them, it might help."
That was evidently the wrong thing to say.
A fist. A loud crack. A bloody nose.
"Ow," Jonathan mumbled, dazed. He tilted his head up to quell the blood flow. When he looked down again, Teddy was quite some distance away.