The second Jeff hears Chris; the tension eases from his shoulders as though a puppet master has cut his strings.
It’s a dark world they live in, now. Threats around every corner – in every breath they take. Jeff keeps going because that’s what he does. Soldiering on in the face of insurmountable odds. He’s gotten fucking good at survival. Mastering the art of it in a way very few could. Yet… several years with a man that’d dedicated himself to coaxing out Jeff’s rare smile, and laugh, had taught him that surviving… wasn’t enough.
For a man that’d lost his wife, his daughter to a fractured marriage – it had been enough. At the time, throwing himself further into his career had been the answer. Rotating months upon months of deployments, with quiet, lonely nights in a one bedroom apartment, and the occasional visit down to his parents. They loved him unconditionally, but there’d always been an underlying frustration there – born out of Jeff’s inability to hold a family together. If he’d been a better husband, a better father, then maybe they’d have had more time with their niece. Maybe they could have had a daughter-in-law, who could fill the void while he was off playing war.
Then, Chris had… chosen him?
There’s really no other way that Jeff can phrase it, because this was Chris. A man who’d been spoilt for choice over options, but had, for reasons Jeff sometimes still struggled to understand, had gone for his ungrateful arse. Even when Jeff pushed him away. Even when he’d done things that should have cut the legs right out from under their budding relationship. Chris had stayed. Had refused to leave his side. Giving trust, and love, and a warmth that hadn’t forced Jeff to do better, but had made him want to.
If he loses Chris now… Jeff isn’t sure he can hold it together. Isn’t sure if he’d want to try.
Sharp gaze adjusting to the low light, Jeff doesn’t quite stop frowning as Chris comes out to greet him – understanding on some level that something was wrong. It does smooth out a little, though, when the spotter is close enough that Jeff can make out the trademark smile, close enough that Chris beats him to the punch and reaches out to touch him. Jeff responds on instinct, gloved hand flicking up to brush lightly across the younger man’s cheek, grazing across scars with an intimacy that’s easier to show without prying eyes.
‘Depends on what you count as successful,’ he says, voice gruff – his nose picking up the tell-tale smell of oil, machinery. Jeff gets the impression that there might be black smears on his jacket, now, but it hardly concerns him. ‘Doubt these little buggers are going to feed us for long.’
A tug on his arm and he moves willingly, booted feet following Chris over to a pit of glowing embers – wood supply depleted enough that there is hardly any flame. Jeff guesses that somebody has fucked off to fix that, as Chris comes at him with a blanket and no small amount of fuss. Anybody else and Jeff would have shrugged off the concern, but somewhere along the line, he’d learned to listen to his spotter – the lesson taught, rather sternly, by Chris himself. ‘… Fucking cold weather does that to you, Chris.’
It’s rough, but more amused than anything – Jeff unslinging the rabbits on his shoulder, gaze flicking away briefly to check on the silhouette of Nick further back in the room. He’s bundled up in blankets, sleeping, or unconscious – a little lantern glowing brightly next to him. There’s a steady rise and fall to his chest, and Jeff is faintly surprised that neither Lara or Matthias appear to be nearby. That was odd, but he doesn’t dwell on it – running a hand through his own damp hair before turning his attention back to Chris, and the promise of coffee. Even shit coffee was better than water, or badly cooked game meat.
‘Wasn’t much of an adventure,’ Jeff remarks after a few beats, having wandered over to the coffee pot and collected himself a mug. ‘Ice froze over the rocks we usually climb down. Had to hunt around nearby, and there wasn’t a whole fucking lot. We’ll be in trouble if it doesn’t thaw out soon. Will need a pulley system and a two-man team to get down without breaking our bloody necks…’
He takes a sip of his drink, enjoying the heat, if not the taste. ‘Seems like you might have had more excitement. Designated babysitter and mechanic, eh? The fuck happened?’
It’s just a simple touch, but that doesn’t matter. As those fingers ghost across his cheek, Chris knows that Jeff is feeling that same relief of being reunited. For a moment, he allows himself to cover Jeff’s hand with his own, glove cold beneath his fingers.
It feels wrong to dwell on his own scars when Nick is still so ill, the wounds he endured at the hands of Shadow Company far worse than his own. And yet the scars on his face and body have hurt him more than Chris lets on, damaged what remained of the ‘old’ Chris Williams, with all of his arrogance and vanity. These days he barely recognises himself some days, but regardless of it all he still sees the same reflection in Archer’s eyes. So much has changed and yet the old man still looks at him the same, still feels the same. It’s unconditional, the same love that Chris feels when he returns his gaze. It’s what is truly keeping Chris going through this shitstorm that they call survival.
There’s no living past those eyes.
He rolls his eyes at Jeff’s sarcasm,choosing to rise above it. Instead he takes the string of rabbits from him and hangs them from a makeshift hook embedded in the ceiling before returning to Jeff’s side, sitting himself down beside the dying fire. His fingers are freezing, the generator forcing him to work without gloves and so he holds out his hands, absorbing a little of the warmth for himself.
“Pulley system, huh?” Chris grunts in disapproval, not at Archer’s statement but its ramifications. They’re already scraping by, practically self sufficient bar the occasional trade with the locals for the things they can’t make on their own. Any kind of pulley system would take a lot of time and resources, never mind being a potential sign post should SC decide to come knocking, but Chris is smart enough to know that Jeff is right; the potential loss of any of them is an even greater risk. He huffs.
“Next time take me with you, huh? Rock climbing used to be my thing, maybe I can spot a different route.” He shrugs. “Even if I can’t, won’t hurt you to have someone out there watching your ass for a change, right?”
There’s silence as Jeff sips his drink but when he speaks again his voice seems a little softer, as though the coffee is thawing him from the inside out. Chris returns his question with a soft smile, although its weakened as ever by the fact that his best friend even needs a babysitter in the first place.
“Oh y’know, same shit, different day. Mountain is still trying to kill us. Generator was chugging away most of the morning then it just kinda spluttered and that was that. Matty got all kinds of worked up, said he wasn’t about to let Nick freeze to death and just headed out for more firewood.” He gives Jeff a knowing look. “As for Riley, he started talking about finding something to seal off the entrance, give us some insulation and an actual front door. He wanted to go alone, but Lara wouldn’t let him. She wanted to stay with Nick, but I told her that I’d got it.” He glances over his shoulder, shooting his laid up friend a wistful glance. “Guy’s been quiet as quiet can be, so I figured I’d tried and fix the generator. Probably would be a quick fix for someone with talent, but we’re stuck with me so it’ll probably take me hours.” He’s rambling now, an side effect of being alone too long and so Chris pauses, taking a soft intake of breath. “It’s nice to have you back though... this place is creepy as Hell without your bitching.”
