Indeed, Sylvius’ father was extremely humiliated. This was apparent in his son’s chipper, buoyant behaviour and the older man’s avoidance of making a public appearance for well over a week. The Camp Prefect holed himself up in his tent with not a word to anyone save for his closest subordinates after the word of thanks decorum forced him to grace the Primus Pilus with.

Sylvius was not summoned to be with him a single time, and thus Joshua found himself rather short of company. He would see the Roman boy from time to time, laughing and rowdily conversing with other soldiers that he wasn’t acquainted with. The same could be said for the majority of the military men that didn’t frequent the hospital tents: Joshua had been a part of the army for a year and a half already, yet he still kept to himself unless extremely necessary. Besides, there was an unspoken agreement between him and Sylvius that he shouldn’t ever speak to the latter’s friends. All for the sake of simplicity.

For Joshua was a lover of simple things at heart. This meant that he had adopted a daily routine a long time ago which he rarely strayed from. It was predictable enough that, during his morning walk through the main north-south axis of the camp on the ninth day since the last battle, he found his steps being mimicked by considerably longer legs, and looking up revealed ocean eyes taking him in with easy good humour. Surprise was the first thing that registered even if it hadn’t time enough to work itself onto his features, which, instead, arranged themselves to reflect the redhead’s smile back at him. Joshua quirked an eyebrow, amused.

“Are you here to save me from a very boring morning prowl? If that’s the case, I’m only too happy to entertain you, hero.”

Not one to disappoint, Jack laughed, shrugging his muscular shoulders lightly.

“Am I that obvious?”

“I’m glad you confirm my wishful thinking,” Joshua replied with a wink. Jack smiled at him for a bit longer, holding his gaze with all the ease in the world until Joshua himself was forced to look away, instead facing the front. At either side of them, the camp unfolded in a perfect representation of the Hippodamian plan, everything in its assigned place with typical Roman meticulousness. Soldiers milled about, those off-duty converging to talk and kill time; those with chores setting about them briskly. Ahead of them was the lookout tower, beyond which laid the wall marking the frontier on this side of the Danube. And, further past that, across the hills and marshy forest, over plains and boggy grasslands, Sarmatia quietly nursed her people - her barbarians - back into health, preparing them for a rematch.

Joshua liked to walk to the very edge of their territory and feel like he toed the thin line between the world he knew and that which he did not. He enjoyed letting his gaze take in the trees that stood as tall sentinels of that barbaric world past their borders. Most of all, he liked to let the strangeness of those thin-leaved trees and the earth saturated with water take him down the nostalgic path that led him home, amidst palm fronds and the waters of the Upper Nile where he saw himself helping with the harvest; humming prayers to gods he believed not in; playing in the reeds too close to the water’s edge for the thrill of always coming away unscathed.

However, this was not an activity he would let himself get lost in while with someone else, so he turned around, veering off-course to circle back to the hospital section. Jack followed, asking no questions and matching his pace.

“So,” Joshua started, strangling the silence that threatened to become too comfortable, too easy to fall into, “I heard your cohort has been sent here to serve as backup permanently.”

It wasn’t a question and Jack didn’t treat it as such. “You all needed rescuing so we came, but shaking us off might not be so easy.”

“I can’t imagine why we’d want you off us,” he remarked. Much to his pleasure, a healthy dash of colour shot into Jack’s face at that, and he didn’t try to disguise his snigger. They continued walking, stepping past gaggles of soldiers who polished shields while others sparred and others merely stood talking in loud voices. A part of one of these last groups was Sylvius, whom Joshua locked eyes with across the distance. Feeling his breath hitch at the slight, sultry smile the man graced him with, the trainee physician cleared his throat and tweaked his and Jack’s direction once more, knowing that Sylvius’ smile would disappear entirely if he ventured too close.

“Where were you before, anyway? Still in Germania?” he inquired, forcing himself to speak, like the noise could calm the nervous butterflies that came fluttering up every time he saw Sylvius.

“Britannia,” said Jack, shaking his head softly, and there was a brief shadow of other-emotion over his face, flashing out of sight as quickly as it had arrived. “Originally, at least. We stopped at the Rhaetian frontier for some time on our way here. The Dacians are getting a bit restless.”

“Everyone’s restless with Domitian. But hey, as long as he keeps paying well, I’m happy enough with him.”

Jack laughed his agreement, though Joshua got the feeling he wasn’t the sort that was moved by money, no matter if the Emperor raised their pay or not. Jack carried with him the priceless sort of kindness that shattered the mere conception of greed. Such a thought was pleasant enough to continue keeping him company once Jack was no longer at his side, after they parted ways upon reaching the chain of hospital tents, where he happily took note of the feel of those beautiful eyes trailing after him for a few instants more, before he vanished into the throng of patients and healers much as he did every other simple day.