#unit tag

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The moon and stars illuminated the Doom Swamp, turning everything sickly and pale. Callie stood by the riverbank. There, carefully and slowly, they pulled off their glove and rolled up their sleeve.

The magical fabric was self-mending, but their skin was not. Meg's knife had left a long gash that curved from their elbow to their wrist. It was shallowest by their hand, completely scabbed over, but got deeper as it traveled down their forearm, so that the last four inches or so were still oozing blood.

Callie hissed behind their mask, muttering curses under their breath. They looked briefly at the water, starting to bend over, then took in the murk and the stench and thought better of it.

"How's your arm?" asked a voice behind them.

Callie jumped and whirled around. Ah.

Jax had come up behind them while they were distracted, and was standing with his arms crossed. The bruise he had left on their wrist not three days ago gave a twinge just looking at him.

Callie swallowed hard. "Oh, it's fine!" their mask replied, voice chipper. "No worries!"

Jax looked at them like they'd suddenly started speaking another language. "Looks pretty rough to me," he said.

"I'll manage!" said Callie amiably, with a dismissive wave of their hand. "After all, it's not her fault! The mist made her do it."

Jax made an expression caught comically between confusion and concern.

Callie took his silence as an opportunity to turn around and pretend like they knew what they were doing about it. "Seka-a-a-i de, ichiban ohime sama-a-a~" they sang quietly.

"The mist made Meg mad," said Jax. "It didn't make her attack you."

Callie stopped singing with a gulp. They could hear the Army Man's footprints growing closer behind them.

"Plus, even if it wasn't her fault, you still got hurt." He stepped up beside them and glanced markedly down at their arm. "Lemme see."

Callie took a step back, mask flickering silver.

Jax lifted his hands disarmingly. "I'm not gonna pull anything funny. Promise."

Callie didn't move or speak. As the seconds stretched on, their mask slipped into its avian shape.

Jax pressed his lips together and clicked his tongue in disappointment. He put his hands behind his back and stared out over the polluted river.

Callie didn't take their eyes off him.

"If the mist made people attack each other," Jax continued, changing the subject, "you would have attacked Meg back, yeah? But you didn't."

Callie hesitated. "I knocked her unconscious," the mask offered, voice passive and confused.

"You could have done worse. I saw it. You could have killed her, if you wanted to, right?"

Callie looked down. "...I don't know."

"And what about me?" Jax continued, turning back to face them. "You could have let your...thing eat me. But you didn't."

"My thing?"

"The thing!" Jax exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air to impress scale. "Your big-! Fucking-! Fur-thing! The freak!"

Callie tilted their head. The eyes of their bird mask narrowed slightly. "Simeon is not mine," it said firmly. "He's his own."

"Fucking- whatever!" Jax sputtered. He stepped towards Callie, jabbing a finger at them. "He was going to kill me, but you talked him out of it. What I want to know is why."

Callie stood their ground. They stared at Jax for a moment, then straightened their posture and looked him in the eyes.

Jax looked surprised. He leaned back out of their face, just a bit.

"I already explained my reasoning," Callie explained, voice level. "What I said to him was the truth. He didn't actually want to kill you. I don't think he would have, even if I hadn't shown up."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. But I think if he'd been going to, he would have done so right away. He didn't want to do it. He just needed someone to remind him of that."

The air was still for a moment, the growls and chirps and distant screams of the Doom Swamp's fauna filling the air with a miasma of death.

"You could have told him to, though," said Jax.

"Pardon?"

"You could have told him to eat me. You could have egged him on. He would have done it, you know he would have."

"Why would I do that?" asked Callie, tilting their head.

Jax sputtered. He gestured to their arm. He gestured to himself. He gestured in an all-encompassing way at the fire in the distance, and then gestured at their arm again. "Because-!" he exclaimed. "Because!"

Callie stared at him impassively. They bent their arm to look at their wound. Then they let it fall to their side and stared out over the river.

"That isn't important."

"But-?"

Callie lowered their head. "I will not ask him to do anything he doesn't want to do, just for some pointless revenge," they said quietly. "And I won't cause trouble when I'm already imposing on you all."

Jax stared at Callie, mouth agape.

Callie stared out over the water. They were hugging their own arm to their chest, rubbing their thumb over their purpling bruise.

Jax tightened his lips. He stood straight up and thrust out his hand. "Jackson," he said.

Callie flinched, standing upright. They looked at his arm, then at him. "...What?"

"My Name is Jackson." The Army Man nodded to his outstretched hand. "Take it."

Callie haltingly reached out and took his hand. Jackson shook it.

"You know what Names mean here, right?" he asked, hand still in theirs.

"Y-yes, I know," said Callie. "My name is-"

Jax pulled away in a flailing of limbs, clapping his hands over his ears. "AZHEDEHAH- NO! Don't give me YOURS!"

"I- but- you gave me yours!" Callie exclaimed. Their mask was melting back into its normal shape, gleaming yellow.

"That's not how it works, dipshit!" Jax spat. "Your Name is a big piece of you! You don't give it to just ANYONE! You want people to be able to Invoke you? P-puppet you around?"

"B-but you gave me yours!"

"I know! But-!" Jax huffed in frustration, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay. Look. Rule number one of this World is that, unless it's, like, really important and you don't have a choice, you shouldn't give your true name to anybody you don't trust. It's not about if they gave you their name, or if you feel like they should have your name, or if you're trying to prove that you trust them - it's about whether or not you can actually look at someone and be like, 'yeah, I'm comfortable with being in their power.' Can you say that about me?"

Callie paused. "...No," they said.

Jax spread his arms in a wide, displaying motion. "Well, there you go!"

"But if it's as big as all that, then- why-?" Callie stammered, shaking their head.

Jackson blushed. He crossed his arms and shrugged. "It's not always about 'orders,'" he said, doing air quotes. "Sometimes it's just like, 'hey, I wanna be able to hear you if you call me.' Like if someone needs help, or whatever." He pointed at Callie. "I hate owing people. So if you're not going to 'cause trouble' with anyone here and you can't ask the big guy to do it for you, you can just hit me up." He grinned and used his thumb to point to his chest. "Because I happen to be a big fan of causing trouble."

Callie still looked unsure. "O-okay," they said.

"Plus," Jackson added proudly, "I'm an Army Man, which means Captain's orders come first. So if this turns out to be a massively bad decision, he'll bail me out! Trust me, that's, like, his whole job."

Callie looked decidedly more sure at that. "Okay," they repeated, nodding.

Jax put his hands on his hips, looking incredibly satisfied with himself. After a moment, he sighed through puffed cheeks and jabbed his thumb back towards the fire. "So, wanna get someone to take a look at that? You really don't want to keep shit like that untreated out here, you'll get an infection."

"Oh," said Callie, looking at their wound with new gravity. "That would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"Yep!" said Jax brightly. "Come on." He waved his hand and started back towards the fire.

Callie trailed after him, looking more confident.

"I know either Will or the Captain would be happy to check it out," Jackson continued. Oh, and Al's great at suturing, if you like him well enough. They put twenty-three in my side once, look!" He turned around, walking backwards and beaming wide, and pulled up his entire shirt to reveal a massive scar in his torso.

"Oh, wow." Callie tilted their head. "How did that happen?"

Jackson gave a sharp laugh. "Okay so, I made this bet with Kate-"

Far above, in the trees, a pair of glowing yellow eyes watched the two of them make their way back to the fire.

The watchful light in Simeon's eyes subsided as the figures below made it back into safety. He rumbled thoughtfully deep in his throat, his tail swinging like a pendulum.

———

Callie still hadn’t recovered from dying.

It wasn’t like anyone EXPECTED them to. If someone had, Simeon would have eaten them by this point anyway. But the kid needed a breather every ten minutes at best, and as a result the group was moving way too slowly.

They were being hunted. Simeon could feel it, an electric chill traveling up his spine. A gleaming yellow eye linked to his body, linked to that...thing that used to be 001.

He was doing his best to keep it confused. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to be, and very good at hiding. Really, the best thing would be for him to just leave. But...

He let the Army Men continue ahead and glanced back at Callie, struggling through the tall grass at the side of the highway. As he watched, they leaned, trembling, against the barrier and struggled to catch their breath.

...Yeah, there was no way he was doing that. Cosmic mind-fuckery be damned.

He gave one last glance to the rest of the party and hung back to talk to them.

“How are you doing?” he grunted.

“My head hurts,” said Callie. They were leaning their entire weight on the barrier at this point, upright with strength they didn’t have. “And...it’s hard to breathe-“

Simeon cringed. He started to look around, then thought better of it. That...THING didn’t need any clues as to where they were, and he’d be able to sense the only hostile worth monitoring from a mile away, anyway. But...

“Kid, we’re not moving fast enough. We need to keep going.”

“I KNOW!” Callie snapped. Red and silver. “I fucking KNOW, okay? I’m trying, I’m just trying, I’m doing my BEST! I really am!”

Simeon felt a pang in his chest. They WERE doing their best, was the thing: It was painful to watch, painful to listen to their labored breathing as they forced themselves past their limit. It wasn’t FAIR to ask this much of them. They deserved to rest, they deserved to lie down and feel safe and not have to do anything ever again.

But progress was progress, and they weren’t making enough of it.

Rage burned in Simeon’s chest. He tightened his claws into the dirt and briefly considered eating the barrier. The taste and crunch of metal was always cathartic.

But no. It would scare them.

Callie misinterpreted the tension in his claws and jaw. “I’m sorry, I-“ they tried. “I’ll, I-“

Simeon blinked at them.

Callie struggled for words. Then something inside them seemed to give. They slumped against the barrier, shoulders shaking. “Can I rest, please?” they begged. “Please, just for a minute. I can’t-“

Simeon made a noise deep in his throat. His ear twitched, and he glanced back towards the Army Men.

Ah. They had stopped laughing, and were coming back. Larry wasn’t fucking slick, Simeon thought wryly, not for the first time. The Captain put up a front for his men, but Simeon was more than aware that he needed someone to confirm eyes on him and the kid once every five minutes. At LEAST.

Simeon turned back to Callie and leaned in, speaking low. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked.

“What?” Callie stammered.

“You could ride on my back,” he said. “We’d move faster that way, and you wouldn’t have to work as hard.”

Callie started to protest, lifting their hands. “You don’t have to- I can- it’s not-“

“It IS a big deal, and no, you CLEARLY can’t, and I should have offered a WHILE ago,” Simeon snapped.

Callie hesitated.

Simeon sighed. “Come on, kid,” he said, tone softening. “Let me do this. Please.”

Callie looked at him, dumbfounded. “I-” they started, then shook their head. “I just, are you sure you want me on your BACK?”

Simeon cringed instinctively, feeling keenly the protrusion of his monstrous spine through his skin. “Look, I know I’m not that comfortable-” he snorted.

“What? No, no! That’s. Not what I meant,” said Callie.

Simeon hesitated.

The Army Men arrived. “All good here?” asked Larry. “Do we...need to stop again?” (A surreptitious glance at the movement of the sun.)

“We’re figuring it out,” grunted Simeon. He turned back to Callie. “Look, I’ll get over it,” he said quietly.

“But-“

“Hey,” said Simeon. He took a deep breath. “I trust you. And this is more important than some stupid feelings.”

Callie looked unsure.

Simeon glanced at the Army Men, then back. “So...” he prompted.

“...sure. Yeah, sure. Okay.” 

As awkward as Callie looked with the whole thing, Simeon could tell they were relieved. He knelt down to let them clamber onto his back (feeling them shuddering with exhaustion,) then pulled out two more limbs and stood quadrupedal. Well. Sextupedal, but who was counting?

Larry nodded appraisingly. “Good,” he said. “Let’s keep moving.”

It was a few minutes of significantly faster progress later that Simeon realized that even when exhausted, even when uncomfortable, even when dead and revived and overwhelmed with everything, Callie had been careful not to touch his neck.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, turning to the warm weight on his back.

No response.

“Kid?” he asked, craning his neck further.