The bell-like sounds of running water alerted them to their arrival at the crystalline stream, where Joshua and Sylvius always stopped and turned around. Jack, however, was quite happy to approach the bank, gazing into the running waters and the green-slicked rocks that lay dormant below the stream’s ever-changing skin.

“Are there no creeks in Britannia?” Joshua joked. Jack nodded, distracted, as he lowered himself closer to the water, kneeling and cupping his hands within what could only be freezing cold liquid. He then brought it to his face to drink from and Joshua watched, enraptured, as the droplets converged on his chin and - for the first time - realised that Jack was pale as a child kissed by Death, his skin near translucent (if not for the light rouge on his angular cheeks) and made to look mirror-like by the sheen of moisture that stayed even after he let his hands fall to his sides.

“There are,” he answered at last. Joshua had almost forgotten he had asked a question. “It tastes almost the same as back home.”

This nostalgia that flashed in Jack’s eyes for one, two seconds, was a feeling that Joshua shyly felt he could understand. Palm trees; sand; mudbrick slums. His mouth opened all on its own.

“What are you running from?”

The question took Jack by so much surprise that it seemed he would lose his footing and fall into the stream, but Joshua’s hands caught hold of one of his own larger ones and he did his best to help him regain his balance and not fall headfirst into the waters with him. When he drew away, his touch lingered like the water did on Jack’s face.

“What?” It was almost a splutter, a choked demand softened by Jack’s smooth voice. Red had come to both of their faces, though in different amounts by now and Joshua felt his skin burning with awkward embarrassment, even though he knew the last thing he should do was tear his eyes away from Jack’s own flushed face and his uncanny eyes.

“Everyone here - part of the army - is either an idiot or running from something,” was his clarification. Understanding dawned slowly on Jack’s face, and Joshua studied it, suddenly desirous of more of that sympathising feeling he’d experienced at the sight of Jack’s nostalgia. However, none came, for the hurt that hid on the undercurve of Jack’s lips was not a pain he was familiar with, an alien suffering, and he remained in the dark even as Jack laughed the question off.

“If that’s true, what are you running from?” He redirected the question so that the medic himself was now the one under scrutiny, only for his own response to be quite similar. Joshua turned, shrugging his shoulders as he beckoned for Jack to follow him the way they had come, his smile as furtive as the airy nymphs of stories that came and went, hiding in Gea’s breast from the cruelties of all mortal beings.

“Nothing. I’m one of the idiots.”

Jack made his disagreement visible enough, but he didn’t press it. They’d had enough of the wretched forest with its evergreen leaves and undisturbable calm so Joshua led them back the way they had come. This time, impatience dressed the silence in a bout of awkwardness that seemed to make the air more frigid than normal, harder to breathe in as confidence and out as words. A knot had tied itself into his stomach, however, and - a couple of minutes into trudging along over the greenery - he discovered the only way to get rid of it was via talking.

So he spoke.

“This is nothing like my  home, you know,” he told Jack casually, grinning. “It’s wet in all the wrong ways. And damned cold, too.”

Jack smiled at him, the movement somewhat lopsided as his eyes warmed slightly, dispelling the awkwardness unpleasant and unvoiced stories had brought. “Where are you from?” he asked. Much to Joshua’s surprise, he seemed genuinely interested.

“Waset, Thebes. It’s in Upper Egypt. You ever been there?”

The redhead shook his head, saying he’d never left Britannia before several cohorts in his legions were relocated, sent to different fronts of the Empire as Domitian fortified their defences. This statement was enough to launch Joshua into a detailed description of his homeland; their flat-bottomed boats drifting on the Nile amidst lily-pads and lotus flowers, the towering obelisks of Luxor and the priests of Amon still determined to uphold the old faith of their glory days, the quiet evenings of gem-like sunsets - scarlet rust and bronze, proud and mighty - across the plains and ruins of a city older than time, which bled into the pinks and lavenders of the river-plants, as sky and water glowed with the same piercing stars.

Jack listened in awe, shaking his head disbelievingly when Joshua said he still missed it, sometimes.

“Why would you leave?” he asked, only to seem to regret it seconds later, like he feared arriving at a subject Joshua would be loathe to speak of. He followed the question up with a soft justification, smiling not quite sadly. “It sounds like a nice place.”

“The place was nice all right.” Joshua laughed, shaking his head. “I became a healer’s apprentice in Alexandria. That was just as nice,” he replied pointedly. If Jack noticed the way he had avoided answering the question explicitly, he didn’t mention it. Lying, as he usually did, came easily enough, but there was something about Jack - something so sincere - that made lies despicable and the truth worse. He couldn’t deny his attention - his company - felt nice, in a different way the scraps of Sylvius’ did, for Sylvius seemed to throw them out to further prolong Joshua’s starvation, heighten his hunger.

The thought made him bitter so he banished it from his mind, shooting Jack a toothy, charming grin instead, aiming to disarm. “What about you, briton? Where in that land of savages does our hero hale from?”

It took Jack a few seconds to articulate his first timid word, and it soon became crystal clear that he received very little pleasure in speaking of his patria. He told Joshua of dense forests, much like these ones in Germania, of tall oaks and sycamores - trees Joshua had never known the names of - and of sparkling streams and little rivulets which flowed across slopes much gentler than any others in the Empire. Much like Joshua himself, he didn’t speak a word about his family.

They exited the forest at last. The midday sun had drifted back into an afternoon fortress of grey, from which dull light fell to the land in a way that contrasted even more with the pictures of celestial beauty Joshua had been able to paint into both of their minds. However, neither seemed to mind much, and the relatively soft breeze was a relief after the cold, still air inside the woods. Thus the trek back to the camp was marked by more cheerful topics to discuss: Jack’s unusual hair colour, like old Mycenaean pottery; Joshua’s current patients; customs of the Romans which neither seemed to really understand. By the time they entered their encampment - nodding in greeting at the sentries - Joshua’s laughter was the most real it had been in a long time, as he leaned on Jack for support after the other finished a recollection of a particular habit that had utterly bewildered him, back at his previous location. Jack, too, at the sight of Joshua reduced to such giggles, laughed with tears in his eyes and there was no question of their authenticity.

Both sets of laughter soon died down, though, once Joshua’s eyes locked with hazel pools of sardonic contempt. The medic felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. It was now apparent Sylvius had been waiting for him - a fact that the other soldier did not let him overlook, for he approached them without delay, wearing a friendly smile for Jack that Joshua knew wasn’t real.

“Salvete. You must be that soldier Hoshe’a was tending to after the last battle. I apologise I can’t recall your name.”

Jack, whose smile too had lost sincerity in exchange of politeness, nodded while shrugging like it didn’t matter. “It’s fine. My name is Iacobus,” he said. He didn’t offer to let Sylvius use his nickname. “You must be Sylvius Caelius? Son of the Camp Prefect?”

He had taken Sylvius by surprise, which showed in the arch of darker-than-wheat eyebrows and the curiosity alight in his intelligent irises. “Yes, I am. I see you know of my father, as well as of my dear friend Hoshe’a.”

If he had been upset when he first laid eyes on the pair, his gaze now held a warmth that - paired with the emphasis he employed saying dear - made Joshua’s heart leap in his breast. Such a thing did not go unnoticed by Jack, who clasped his hands together and put forth a somewhat thin smile. “He ensured I didn’t lose myself in the forest,” the big man said, and his tone was laced with gentle earnestness, though he didn’t turn to look at Joshua directly. “Which I appreciate greatly.”

“Oh? You were in the forest?”

There was the scorn once more, so subtle anyone who wasn’t used to it would miss it for simple surprise. It was only then that Joshua himself spoke, nervous and guilt-torn even if he didn’t know why.

“I waited for you there.” His tone was quiet even though he meant to keep it playful and casual. He didn’t want Jack to see him as anything as disgustingly...vulnerable as Sylvius’ discontent made him feel. And the discontent was quite noticeable, now, with the boy pouting, looking at him directly in a sad way.

“You misunderstood me completely! I wanted us to set out from here. I’ve stayed by the gate ever since noon.”

“You have?” Joshua groaned, horrified, and then remembered himself, for Jack was still watching them. He flashed the redhead a rueful smile. “See? I’m an idiot. Ah, shit. Well, I’ll see you around, Jack. Sylvius and I--”

“Oh no,” Sylvius interrupted hastily. “Don’t mind me. I do have obligations to attend to, unfortunately. I just couldn’t help but worry, but clearly you are in good hands.”

His words ran through Joshua like an electric shock, tearing a whisper of his name from the healer’s full lips. Sylvius, however, merely smiled as he excused himself, and his eyes lingered on Joshua in that way they always did when he was forbidding the boy from going after him. Then, he pivoted on his heel and left, striding at a typical soldier’s brisk pace away from them until he had completely disappeared from view.

Breathless with guilt and dread, Joshua swiftly turned a brilliant grin towards Jack, laughing, shrugging helplessly. “As a matter of fact, I have chores to get to as well, so--”

When he made to leave, Jack grasped his arm. Concern and worry clouded his features. Joshua ripped his arm away as gently as he could, still smiling.

“Are you okay?”

It had been a long time since anyone asked him that. He replied in the exact same way as he had back then, before hurrying to strangle his thoughts into silence with the comfort and familiarity of his working routine, Jack’s image forbidden from entering his mind.

“Of course! I’m great.”