He'd flown too close to the sun this time.

With the grass scratching his wrists and his heart racing almost audibly in his chest, Jay thought about everything he'd done before now. His head pounded, and he thought yes, maybe he'd flown too close to the sun, and the burning he felt in his limbs were the after effects. Why the hell had he taken those tapes? What possessed him to get himself involved in all this shit?

In the corner of his mind, he barely registered Tim - stay with me - How? This was his chance to escape - no, no, no, no, nononononono - at last; to fall into the ocean and give up once and for all. But there was something in him, something that refused to let go. Jay clung to life, trying his best to claw his way back up.
Tim was gone. Why did he leave? Where did he go? Jay rolled - it couldn't end like this, it couldn't, it couldn't - and fought his way back to existence, beating his wings again and again and again-

Then he heard his name, over and over again, an echo of sweet sadness, whispered to him. It was Tim's voice - let's get out of here - impossibly calm, even better than a minute ago. He felt strong hands turn him over, help him up - come on, can you hear me? - checking to see if he was all right, if he was alive. Little did he know, he was barely clinging to life, the world ringing in his head - stay with me, buddy.

Wha- no. It couldn't have been Tim above him, Tim helping him up. It had to be someone else; despite the fact that he looked like Tim, he sounded like Tim, hell he even smelt like Tim - a mixture of cigarette smoke and butterscotch with a hint of mint and something remarkably clean for just being on the ground - but it could not possibly be. Jay had been under the impression that Tim hated him, mainly because Jay played the leading role in dragging him back into all this mess. It couldn't be the same man who was now holding him up, calling him buddy. No, the Tim he knew merely tolerated him for the sake of discovery and convenience. Tim wasn't his friend - at least, Tim didn't consider Jay a friend, as far as he knew.

And yet, the very same Tim - come on, we gotta get to the car - was helping him up, keeping him steady, balanced, and loading him into the passenger seat of his car. Jay muttered incoherent answers to Tim's directions, his head still buzzing and his limbs refusing to work. Jay's head lolled against the seat, his heart rate slowing to a less dangerous level, and the fuzzy sight before him because to focus more clearly - that was, if he could keep his eyes open long enough.

Tim floored it. They were so far gone from the house before Jay could even blink. His fingers felt the material of the car seats, and his fingers dug down into his arm rests. He felt tears, actual tears - oh God, it had been so goddamned long since he'd last been allowed to cry - prick at the sides of his eyes, and he managed to let out a low moan to let Tim know he was still alive. In response, Tim turned his head to Jay for the briefest of moments, just a moment, and then focused on the road that was rushing at the front of his car at possibly seventy miles an hour. "Jay? Hey, buddy, you all right there?"

Jay's mouth tasted metallic and wet with what he suspected was his own blood. He let of a series of hacking coughs, wiping the bit of blood that had ejected from his throat with the back of hi hand, and then wiping it on one of his jeans pant legs. Weakly, he croaked, "Wha-what happened?"

Tim let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "You'd be proud of me, Jay," he said, followed by an equally lung shattering cough. "He was there, but I didn't move. He wasn't going to get us, God damn it; I wasn't going to let Him."

Jay's body ached, and he practically arched in the seat in pain. His blood soaked lips whispered two words, "Thank you.", barely a sentence. What else could he say to the man that had just saved his life? Who'd called him buddy even after all that Jay had inadvertently done to him, hauled him to his feet, dug him out when he was lost.

As Tim went on, Jay wasn't sure his companion had heard his thanks. "You were gone, Jay; you completely vanished after I took the camera, and I thought for a second, I'd have to take on the son of a bitch myself. I thought you'd left me, damn it," he hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, and it took Jay a moment to process the sob in his voice.

In confusion, Jay took a hasty breath. "It wouldn't have mattered," he managed to mutter, barely audible. "I'm just a b-burden to you, anyway."

The car jerked wildly, for a moment. Jay gripped the arm rests in a effort to hang on, and then Tim put the car back, straight, on the road. "Don't say that to me, Jay," he snarled, so deep in his throat that Jay was almost afraid of him again. Memories of the masked man that Tim became when he wasn't on his medicine flashed through his mind, and Jay shivered despite the lack of cold air. "Don't ever say that to me again."

Jay said something. There was nothing to say.

"We're gonna be all right," Tim said. "You and me; We're gonna be okay."

Those words were taboo to Jay. He'd never believed those words in four years. He'd never been even relatively okay in four freaking years, and in the past year or so, he couldn't imagine an end to this. He wanted an end, anyone who knew him knew that he did, but he couldn't see one in the future. Perhaps there was an end, but Jay couldn't see it in sight. And yet,

"We're gonna be okay."

And for a moment, Jay almost believed it.

lyrics and title from the song "icarus" by bastille.

first mh fic. i think it turned out really well. #72 inspired some feels in me. i also have this long time headcanon that jay doesn't think he's good enough, and therefore i threw that in at the end. i hope you enjoyed! hopefully i'll be writing and dishing out more xD

- doc