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Chapter Text

It must've happened in just a split second, but to Jonathan it felt as time itself was thick as molasses.

A gun fired, but it wasn't Roper's.

Instead, Roper went down. Jonathan saw the minute slip of his finger, saw how it released the trigger. Another shot rang out.

The world held its breath, just like Jonathan. The dense blanket of leaves on the wet jungle floor dampened everything, except for the wild beating of his heart, as he watched with horror how Teddy fell to the ground.

Then, like a flame struck by a match, everything imploded. Making use of the chaos, Jonathan broke free of his binds. He stumbled forward blindly, crawling those last few feet to reach Teddy. He stretched out his hand, grasping for anything solid.

"Teddy," he spluttered, spitting out the blood that crawled up his throat. "Please. Teddy."

A blurry face blocked his vision. "Get up! Come!"

Jonathan knew that voice. Martín. When did he get here? Martín grabbed him by the arm, hauling him upright. He fired a shot over his shoulder. "We have to go!" he yelled.

He started dragging Jonathan away. "No! No!" The words were growled with raw desperation.

"It's okay," Martín shushed him frantically. "We'll get him." They ducked for an explosion.

"I'm not leaving without him," Jonathan tried to say, almost delirious with fear. Because this couldn't be happening. Please, please, let it all be one big joke. Although at this point, Jonathan is sure he will never smile again.

Martín had succeeded in manhandling him to a truck, concealed by a bush at the edge of the clearing. Jonathan struggled, but it wasn't enough. Martín dumped him in the back. "I'll be back," he said. And just like that, he was gone.

The only thing Jonathan could do was stare at the night sky above, his labored breathing echoing loudly in his ears. His eyes stung. He squeezed them shut. It didn't do anything, the tears slipped out anyway, dragging paths down the grime and blood on his face. Before he could stop it, his broken body convulsed with sobs. In another life, he would've worried he was too loud, but in this one, he didn't care. He could die for all he cared, actually.

The rustling of plants cut through the cacophony of noises. It was close, Jonathan realized faintly. Closer than the guns, closer than the all the destruction. He lifted his head.

Martín, together with Tavo, dragged Teddy's limp body to the truck. With one big heave they lifted him to the trunk, letting his limbs spill out next to Jonathan.

The truck began to move. Jonathan had to hold onto the railing as to not fall off. He still had his gaze fixed on the stars. He couldn't bear to look, not now, when Teddy's eyes would be wide and unseeing.

It's a shame. If Jonathan had been brave enough, he would've seen that Teddy's eyes were closed, and that his chest moved in a halting, unsteady rhythm.

Chapter Text

Jonathan drifted. He couldn't pinpoint whether he was dreaming or awake. The only thing he was truly sure of, was that he was hurting.

His mortal body was battered and bruised, but his heart ached just as much, maybe even more. 

They lost. He hadn't been paying attention. Two cups, two planes.

He twisted, trying to escape the piercing headache.

Somewhere far away, he heard someone say something. He couldn't place the words, but he recognized the feeling of medicine entering his blood stream. Within seconds, he was out.

When he woke up next, it was daytime. Afternoon, he thought. The sun hung low, casting the sterile room in a soft, golden glow.

He was in a hospital. The thin sheets felt scratchy beneath his palms. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.

A cup of water appeared in front of him, accompanied by a hand guiding the straw to his chapped lips. Jonathan took a few sips. He let his eyes drift upwards. The deep brown eyes of Tavo stared back.

"Hey," Jonathan managed to say.

Tavo put the cup down. He looked away.

"Martín?" Jonathan asked.

"Got away. We all did." Tavo turned back. "Teddy made it."

Oh. Relief like he never felt before flooded through Jonathan. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and breathed, really breathed, in what seemed like the first time in forever.

"Where is he?"

"Different hospital. Safer to split up," Tavo said.

Jonathan nodded.

"You can see him as soon as you get discharged." Tavo moved to the door. The sour tone of his voice didn't escape Jonathan. He and Teddy had a certain history together after all.

"Tavo," he said.

Tavo stopped.

"Thank you."

Tavo gave a curt nod. The door closed, and his footsteps faded. 

Chapter Text

Naturally, Teddy was admitted under a false name. It actually took Jonathan a while to find him. When he eventually did, it was in a local hospital in a small town, buried deep in the jungle of Columbia.

One last time, Jonathan made use of his old name, but not without feeling sick to his stomach.

"Andrew Birch," he said to the receptionist. "I come for Javier Bosco."

He followed her down the halls, his heart thumping faster with each step. He had no idea what was waiting for him here, no clue at all.

The woman halted. "Here," she said, gesturing to a door.

"Gracias," Jonathan said. He waited until she was a respectable distance away. Only then did he lift his hand to the door knob. He hesitated.

He steeled himself. "Come on," he mumbled.

He entered the room quietly. The curtains were drawn, only one sliver of sunlight peeking through. Jonathan followed it with his eyes, until his gaze landed on Teddy.

He lay in the bed, his head propped up on a big pillow. There was a bandage plastered on one side of his forehead, almost entirely concealed by his unruly black hair. One part of his hair, above his left ear, was shaved to make place for a gnarly wound stitched shut. His right eye was taped off.

The only thing really capturing Jonathan's attention, however, was the slow rising and falling of his chest, and the tiny puffs of air fogging up his oxygen mask.

Jonathan softly closed the door behind him, walking slowly to the sole chair by the bed, not taking his eyes off Teddy for even one moment.

Time moved slow in that room. It felt almost sacred, as if Someone was watching. Jonathan didn't believe in God, but Teddy did. It must account for something, he thought.

Minutes passed, of maybe even hours. Teddy stirred. His eyes opened with difficulty, sluggishly blinking away the crust in the corners.

Jonathan held his breath, not daring to move. But when Teddy's focus finally landed on him, his smile that followed was inevitable.

"Hello," he said, ignoring the single tear rolling down his cheek.

Teddy made a sound, but it wasn't pleasant.

Jonathan quickly reached out. "Don't try to speak," he said. His hand landed on Teddy's shoulder. He moved his thumb in soothing circles. "It's okay. I'm here."

Teddy looked at Jonathan's hand and back to his face. He moved, both arms coming up to embrace Jonathan.

Jonathan was already leaning forward when he saw something. Teddy's didn't lift his right arm above the shoulder. It seemed that he couldn't. With one glance, he knew that Teddy noticed that he noticed. He recognized the first signs of panic straight away. The fast beeping of Teddy's heart monitor only confirmed it.

Jonathan swiftly caught his arm, clasping Teddy's hand in one of his own. He squeezed. "That's okay," he whispered, "that's okay." 
He leaned in, gathering Teddy in his arms. "It will all be okay." His free hand traveled up and down the broad expanse of Teddy's back.

"I promise."

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.

Chapter Text

The rest of the way home, Jonathan trailed behind him. He kept his head down, kicking listlessly at the dirt. Every once in a while, he lifted his gaze, checking if Teddy was still there.

Truth was, he had no idea how to help him. It was painful to Jonathan, to see him so, so obviously hurting.

Jonathan saw a runaway train. Brakes fried. Engine on fire. The smoke obscured the tracks. There was no telling what came next. Jonathan could only hope to be there when Teddy eventually crashed.

The door slammed in his face.

Jonathan pushed his annoyance down, and opened it again.

"Teddy, really-" he started.

Teddy responded by throwing the fruit bowl at the wall. It shattered, the shards flying everywhere. The apples bounced in every which way.

Jonathan jumped back. "Teddy! Jesus!" Seemed like the train had derailed.

With every step he took towards Teddy, Teddy took a step back. 

Jonathan raised his hands, trying to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm okay, you're okay." He moved closer. Teddy's back hit the wall.

"N-n-no-no m-m-m-m-" No sound came out. It looked like he was choking. Teddy ground his teeth. Jonathan flinched back, eyes wide. "-me toq-q-q-ques-" The 's' sound was prolonged. Jonathan saw how Teddy visually had to shake himself out of it. "-,cabrón!" He practically spit out that last word.

Jonathan was frozen in place. Teddy wasn't. He forcibly shoved Jonathan out the way, although Jonathan didn't easily let him. Something about an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. Jonathan heard the door to the bedroom slam shut. The echo reverberated between his bones.

His thoughts circled. Dogs chasing their own tail. Left brain injury. Right body weakness. Why, just why had be never even considered the possibility that Teddy couldn't talk like he used to? Was it curable? Or was this it? His mind; a carousel that went haywire. The animals had come to live.  

Jonathan pressed his fist against the bridge of his nose. He had to calm down.

But he also had to know. With trembling hands he fished his phone out of his pocket. While it rang, Teddy's words kept repeating.

No me toques, cabrón! Don't fucking touch me.

He barely registered the voice on the other side of the line. "Señor?"

"Um, yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm sorry. My name is Alex Birch, I'm calling for Doctor Vasquez?"

"She is busy at the moment. Do you want me to put you on hold or shall I ask her to call you back?"

"I'll hold."

Jonathan sank down on the couch. He kept his eyes trained on the closed bedroom door. If he stared hard enough, maybe he could see. 

Jonathan winced at the intrusive image that popped up, that of Teddy pushing the sharp metal wire into his skin, droplets of blood welling up. In his mind it was horrifyingly detailed and close, much closer than he'd been in real life.

Jonathan brought his hand to his mouth, biting at the cuticle of his thumb. The world was on a loop. One more time, he decided, one more time would he listen to this maddening, soulless waiting music, and then he would...

He actually had no idea what he would do. There was nothing. He was a sham. A body, only pretending to be human.

"Hello? This is Vasquez."

"Hello, yes, this is Andrew Birch." Jonathan hoped he didn't sound too distraught. "I'm calling because I have a question about Javier Bosco, and I believe he was a patient of yours."

"Ah, yes, the young man. I remember him. Is he with you now? Is he recovering well?"

"He is, yes." Why was his voice shaking? Why did he feel like crying? Jonathan bit down hard on his knuckle, only stopping when he tasted blood. "But, um, when he was in your care, did you notice there was anything...-"

He couldn't say 'wrong'. He couldn't. Teddy wasn't wrong.

"...-anything different about his voice?"

"His voice?" She sounded surprised. "I don't know. He hardly spoke. Now that I think of it, I don't think he ever said anything to me. And before we could really examine him, he was discharged. By you. Against medical advice."

Jonathan felt utterly stupid, like a child getting scolded for not listening. He blinked rapidly, still staring at the door.

"Could you have saved it? If he had stayed longer?"

"There's no way of saying." A brief pause. "Look," she said, her tone softer now, "I've been a doctor for a long time. I have had all kinds of patients, and I know when people got something to hide. I won't pry. If it was safer for your friend outside of my hospital, I won't judge you for pulling him out."

Jonathan bit down on his lip, if only to stop it from wobbling.  

"Mr. Bosco suffered a severe traumatic brain injury, Mr. Birch. Apraxia of speech is not uncommon."

"Apraxia of speech?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Thank you."

He hung up. All the fight left his body. He buried his head in his hands.

Apraxia of speech. Oh, Teddy.