Disclaimer: Yes, I own them. Didn't you know? Rolls eyes If I really owned them would I be writing a Disclaimer? Don't think so somehow.

Warning: Slash, that's boy loving boy for those of you who have stumbled in accidentally. Un-beta'd, any mistakes are my own.

Pairings: Take a guess

Background: It's a re-write of Forever Red from my own slashy opinion. Also, it can be read as a one-shot or you can continue reading it through to the end. The lyrics at beginning are by Gemma Hayes, One More For The Darkness.

Author Notes: This is something I've been wanting to write for a while but never got round to. It's completely different to how I set out for it to be; for the usual suspects. Ren, the inspiration, it wouldn't be written without her; Ti for the encouragement, Hana for understanding and for anyone reading. Oh, and an all new suspect who I seem to over-look but really shouldn't. Charley, a good friend, a big help, a great support and another one showing just what us Brit gals can do! Enjoy.

"I don't understand better than most…

I'm a just your friend with troubles of my own…"

These words swam around his head as he looked out across the concrete that covered most of the ground his direct vicinity. The desert surrounding him seemed to disappear like a mirage around the man-made structure which appeared to be slowly swallowing him whole.

He felt insignificant.

All but a mere blot on the surface of a planet filled with billions of blots, all similar to him, but not even remotely alike at the same time. He'd never felt this way before. Not even in the huge metal monsters that dwarfed his tall frame, or clambering through the mountains to his home away from home as a teenager. Never once did he feel so small, so miniscule, so unimportant, so…

Insignificant…

Yet, here he was on the brink of what would undoubtedly be the most important time of his life. If he told any of the others how he felt he was assured they wouldn't understand him. None of them, not one at all. Most had been brainwashed by the romanticism and heroism of what they did, brainwashed into believing it, and the few he thought might possibly see his point; he didn't feel comfortable enough to confide in.

Trust with his life, yes. With his mental stability and emotional problems, no.

Ironic really; here he stood on the cusp of the most dangerous – and exhilarating – time of his life and all he could think about is how significant it would, undoubtedly be on the scale of things. No-one would remember his name; no-one would even know that this project had occurred – not for many, many years at least.

And still, no-one would know he was part of it, except those involved. Oddly enough, though, that didn't bother him. He wasn't in this for the adoration or the fame. He shied away from that in all reality. It wasn't what he wanted at all. He would have been happy being blissfully unaware of all this. Then again, deep in his heart, now that he knew he was glad to be in the know. It was almost as if this completed him.

Even if it did make him feel insignificant…

In a way, he revelled in that thought; that he was insignificant, that there were others who could do as well, if not better, as he. Others who hadn't faced the pain he had; others that hopefully never would. Yes, he liked being insignificant, it took away some of the pressure and scrutiny he felt he was under since his teens and the life altering decisions that had been made for him.

Not even a choice in his future, he had never truly believed in fate… until now.

He knew the inevitable was coming. One look into his companions eyes and he would become significant again. He would become the person he'd spent so many tiring hours attempting to escape; the leader, the brain, the strategist, the hero… the veteran.

That final label made him feel old. No, he already felt old, older than he was, certainly. He was running out of energy, doubting how much longer he could do this. How much longer he could keep fighting the good fight. Did that mean he would fall to temptation and revert right back to the beginning, or simply give up the fight all together, on neither side?

Part of him hoped, prayed for the latter but he knew it wouldn't happen. Not now, not ever. Not as long as he knew, not as long as he had breath in his body to fight against it. Literally, he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and he doubted he could ever relieve that burden onto someone else. He couldn't, he wouldn't and he wasn't sure that, given the option, he'd want to. It seemed so familiar now; he'd feel lacking in purpose without it. After all, without it, it made him more than insignificant. It made him purposeless. Useless.

He wondered if maybe he could share that burden. However, it appeared that the one person he could ever consider unloading this on wasn't going to be there. That shocked him more than anything. This was the one person out there he knew more dedicated to this cause than he. The man may never have been involved as long but he'd given just as much, probably more, than anyone else. It made no sense that he wouldn't show but perfect sense too.

"Doesn't look like he's coming."

He turned to his right, in the direction the voice that broke through his thoughts came from.

"I know, I just thought he'd show, is all."

The silent "needed him to show" went unsaid but was felt all the same.

"The tech crew wants us to leave now," Came a soft, yet curt, voice from further behind the first speaker that almost made the man jump. He hadn't expected the broody, Asian man to speak unless absolutely necessary. He must have deemed this a necessary comment, the man mused.

At the sound of the voice he began to study the man closer before giving a small nod. His voice, his eyes all seemed familiar. They all held that same mist of someone who had seen and heard too much in his life time to get caught up in romanticism. Someone who had seen more than any man, especially one so young, should ever see. And that was startling and scary and yet, somehow, comforting all the same because he'd seen that same look reflected in his own mirror. He'd seen that same look in the eyes of the man he was waiting for.

He didn't understand why he so desperately wanted this man around, but then again, he didn't understand better than most. Simply because he understood it all too clearly without understanding at all; maybe the other had managed to shed himself of the responsibility he felt obliged to carry. Maybe, finally, one of them had been able to get rid of their problem and start having troubles of their own. Maybe.

As he began to walk back inside, away from hope, away from second chances, away from his chance of safety he heard an exuberant cry of, "Wait, what's that?"

Turning sharply he lifted a hand to his forehead and shielded his glass covered eyes from the sun. He hated that about wearing them, they always seemed to intensify the sun's gaze if he ever locked with it. It was one of those small irritations that made him feel old and insignificant once again, whilst reminding him of a time when he'd felt like one of the most important people to ever live.

His heart began to race a little as he hoped that his desires weren't premature. It had to be him, it just had to be. No-one else had that quality of perfect timing.

Besides, he needed this man so badly it just had to be him. He'd understand how much he needed his support that he'd come to save him from drowning in himself. This was the man who taught him everything he knew about being himself, or at least being the persona people perceived him to be. This was also the only man who had ever seen behind that, who had ever seen the raw, vulnerable emotion that he held behind the mask. All because he helped secure the mask, along with his own, and it felt natural that they be the only one to see each other without them. The only ones that either trusted with their entire being.

It just had to be him.

As the motorcycle pulled to a stop a few feet away he forced himself to ease. It was him; he could tell from the posture, the aura, a gut instinct almost, that told him it'd all be okay now. Yet he forced himself to ease because here he was, a few measly feet from a man he considered an idol yet only a simple peer and he was acting like a nervous child in a dentist office. Nervous at the prospect but excited by the adrenaline the nervousness caused to course though his veins.

With a slow deep breath he allowed a smile, a genuine, warm smile, to play across his face as the rider released the clasp from his helmet, now stood directly in front of him. His smile grew wider when a matching one was revealed once the helmet was safely tucked under an arm.

"And I thought I was supposed to be the late one." The playful banter was typical of the two and he amazed himself at how easily he fell back into that kind of relationship after years apart.

"Haven't left, still here, aren't you? Therefore, I'm not late." A smug smirk flittered across the face of the latest arrival, as the opposing man drank in the sight before him. It was a long time since he'd seen the person stood before him and the safety felt in his presence, his simple being, made all the difference that the man just had to look.

"Good to see you, Bro." He said with a small smile as he reached in instinctively for their typical, one-armed, brotherly bear-hug.

"Good to see you too, Tommy," Jason muttered into the embrace, just glad to be back to doing what he felt he needed to, and having the one person he needed right by his side whilst doing it.

Yep, I'm obvious but what else did you expect from me? So, tell me what you think. There are two extra parts written to this which will be posted but as earlier stated, thsi canbe read alone. So, you know what to do - hit the button!