Jane only had one.

The nuns would look him over every few years, seeing if he had miraculously grown two more Names on his pudgy little body, but he never did, the name Tavish sitting quiet and forlorn just below his ribs. The script was soft and flowery, but all it's beauty wouldn't chance the fact that it was alone.

It was a strange situation, but then again, Jane was a strange boy. A visiting speaker to the convent once handed Jane a pamphlet on people with "unusual" Names. Jane had tried to eat it, and Sister Annabeth had to pull it from his greedy little teeth.

It took a long time to get something was wrong. Sure the nuns told him he was "special" all the time, but they told him he was special when he didn't read as fast as the other kids too, so he didn't put much stock in it. Plus, they told Noah he was special for eating his own boogers, so the special box was already kind of crowded.

It wasn't until he was eleven he really got it. The mystery of having the Names. The hunt to find the three most important people in your life. Daytime television shows about when people's Names didn't line up. The last of those things wasn't allowed in the convent, but when the nuns took them into town, sometimes Jane could watch it through the barbershop window. He wondered if he'd be hired for a TV show one day, since they seemed to need a lot of people with special Name situations.

Once he understood the gravity of how bizarre he was, it changed him. He'd stay awake at night, quietly reading Tavish, Tavish, Tavish, over and over again. He could just make out the scrawl when the moon was out, but when the cycles faded and he was left in the dark with the other sleeping boys, he recited the Name by memory.

Tavish wasn't even a real name. It must be fake, or a codename of some sort. Jane couldn't imagine being allies with someone called Tavish, or being the true love of one either. It must be his moral enemy then. Luke had told him one time at lunch that maybe Tavish was a super villain's name since it couldn't be a real one. At the time, Jane called him an idiot and made him eat dirt for it, but later he realized it wasn't such a bad idea. Jane wouldn't mind having a worst enemy if it meant he got to be a super hero.

The only thing that would suck would be not having anyone else.

Even if the Name wasn't a worst enemy, Jane's prospects were bleak. If he had a true love, then he would have no one to depend on. If he had an ally, then no one would ever love him. No matter how you looked at, Jane's future was dismal.

So he prepared himself. He was already a "rough and tumble" sort of kid as the nuns liked to call him when they were being nice. (And "possessed by the devil" when they weren't.) The next step was getting ready for the real world: to look out for his own, never needing nobody for very long. It carried him far, so far that even the devil himself had to run just to keep up.


"S-so, 'm I gunna have to keep calling you 'Soldier' this *hic*, this whole time?" the RED Demoman slurred. "Or y'gunna do me the honor 'a telling me your name?"

Jane fumbled with the label on his beer, each time he moved creaking the foldout that was his excuse for a kitchen table. "It's against company policy to share names," he evaded.

"Ah, but it's also against company policy to share a drink with a RED. So don't you think we might as well have the whole cake as long as we've taken a slice?" The RED grinned. "Here, I'll go first. Name's Tavish DeGroot, pleased to make your acquaintance." Tavish put forward a friendly hand.

Jane just stared. At the hand, then up at Tavish, then back at the hand.

He'd said it. Sure he'd pronounced it Tah-vish instead of Tay-vish, but who else could have that goddamned name? Who else had Jane ever felt an immediate connection with besides this drunken mercenary?

Jane was still looking at the hand.

"Something wrong lad?" Tavish asked, slowly withdrawing it.

Jane glanced up, noticing the growing question on his friend's face. "I…" His mouth felt so awfully dry. "Tavish. I…have your Name."

"Oh," Tavish said, and it certainly wasn't an oh of delight. But that couldn't be right, there was no way this man could be Jane's worst enemy.

"Why oh?" Jane demanded, standing and making the foldout tremble. "You have to have at least one Name left, right?" He tried not to sound too pathetic and failed.

"Well, I mean I do…" Tavish rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at the Soldier. "But…it's a girl."

"Oh," Jane echoed, something in him cold and quashed. After all this time…he'd found Tavish, and there was even enough of him to go around. Jane didn't sit down, instead looking at the bits of beer label he'd picked off with his nails. Tavish didn't have his name, unless… "W-wait. Just a second. Are you sure it's a girl, or do you just mean that it's a girl's name?"

Tavish blinked, the scars of embarrassment still clear on his face. "What do y'mean by that?"

Jane took a labored breath before saying, "my name is Jane."

"Jane," Tavish repeated, hissing air like the name had gotten stuck in his throat. Looking up, his eye held a gleam of disbelief in it. "Jane…I…you're Jane?"

Jane nodded, hoping Tavish's reaction meant what he thought it meant. He didn't have to wonder long, Tavish jumping up and knocking the table so hard the plastic fruit almost went flying.

"Jane!" he roared, closing the short distance between the two men. He wrapped Jane into a bear hug, an embrace that would have squished a lesser man, or at least picked him off the ground.

To Jane, it just felt like a miracle. He returned it immediately, despite his instincts telling him to run. This man had his Name. There was no running from that.

Tavish let him go with an uproarious laugh. "Of all the bloody people! But here you, and here I am, and isn't this best?"

The words came out too fast, but Jane just nodded along happily. He was content to just let Tavish talk, spilling out every detail and scrutinizing every minute that led up to here.

"To think," Tavish said after a while of chatter, "to start with a fight in the middle of a weapons expo and end with finding my best mate."

"Best mate? Is that what you call greatest ally over in wherever the hell not-America you come from?" Jane asked, a smile adding to the jab.

"It's Scotland you daft prick," Tavish laughed, punching him on the. "I already told you."

And it just felt so damn natural. Maybe Jane would have noticed it in the moment they'd both crashed into that hand-held catapult if he'd been looking, but now it was so obvious he could have slapped himself. The punch to his shoulder would have started a fight with anyone else, but from Tavish…

Everything felt good with Tavish. Even things Jane didn't consider himself the best at, like talking, relaxing, or close physical contact. Lying on the couch, Tavish's head resting on his stomach, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. With his greatest ally there, he felt like he could do anything. Like he could say anything. Like he could out any secret, and the Demoman would always be there to listen.


The Administrator's men left Jane's apartment exactly as they had found it. No need to break anything, to smash his feeble plastic chairs to prove a point. The dishes and few glasses were left pristine, not cracked in a fit of intimidation.

Jane did all that himself.

He threw everything he owned at the wall, each successive smash denting it further as cups and crates hit the same spot over and over again. Jane screamed at the top of his lungs, overturning the foldout and tipping the couch, howling like a lion with a thorn in its paw.

He screamed in unimaginable pain. In unimaginable betrayal.

There was only so long Jane could do that to himself before he collapsed. His fists were red from where he'd punched the wall, and his eyes stung from tears he didn't remember shedding. He leaned into the couch, having almost exhausted himself into the grave.

The word Tavish had called him swam around his mind. It hurt worse than the betrayal. The fact that he had promised never to tell was one thing; that lie could be chalked up to the changing of a person, a slide to the dark side that RED must have pulled him down. But civilian

It meant Tavish had never cared. All those nights of drinking where Jane told him about the half-remembered days in the convent, the time after that when he'd gone to war, Tavish had never thought anything less of him. He had promised Jane that he was still a Soldier, no matter what the United States Army said. And Jane had believed him.

Oh how Tavish must have been laughing at him the entire time. He'd greased it with soft platitudes and promises that he still thought Jane to be great…

All lies.

Jane had swallowed every one, hook line and sinker. It burned worse then the pain in his eyes or his knuckles, and it wasn't something he could get rid of no matter how hard he punished himself. To think, the man that was supposed to be by his side through thick and thin had ended up driving the final knife in Jane's back.

Years ago, when Jane thought about having an archnemesis, he convinced himself it wouldn't be so bad. That the worst part would not be having any friends.

But oh how wrong he was. Because this wasn't like the way a super hero and his villain fought, with wild banter and joyous ass-kickings; this was personal. A hurt so deep, Jane finally got why everyone was so afraid of the third name on their person.

But Jane didn't have three. He had one. An enemy who hurt him in a way that only a former-friend could.


Death had never tasted sweeter. Not in Germany, not at BLU, and not in any of the miscellaneous work that crowded in between the two. The RED Demoman's death was the only thing that made Jane truly feel alive.

That throat tearing vengeance. That blood-splattering satisfaction every time Jane, hit the traitor with a rocket. Pure unadulterated fury when he got through the sword's defenses and bashed that fucking face in. Jane was a simmering pot of self-destructive carnage, and no one was bothering to stop him.

The sight of Tavish only made the stew threaten to boil over. The man was just as angry as Jane, and the raw absolute indignation of that scalded like hot magma. What did Tavish have to be angry about? What could he feel that even begin to compare to what he'd done to Jane? It only made Jane hate him more, the killing becoming so easy.

At the end of it all, Jane's righteousness won him through. A crate arrived from MannCo, a pair of new boots that shined with undaunted polish. Seventy-five less blast damage. Miracles of technology. Magic. All words that scrolled by on the little piece of paper that came in the box, folding them into the dark recesses of Jane's mind where they meant nothing.

It didn't stop. It never stopped. The only thing that made Jane remotely okay was killing Tavish, and even that began to feel dunking his head into a bath that just got colder every time.

It was all dull and hallow. The gunboats hurt his feet.

Why did Tavish still look at him like that? What right did he have to be hurt? Sometimes he screamed traitor at Jane like that meant something, like he hadn't started it all. Did he expect Jane not to find out he'd never cared? Or maybe he thought he could say that word and Jane wouldn't feel this horrible, aching nothingness that had replaced his best friend.

The gunboats hurt his feet. He kept wearing them.

Jane would find himself outside the field of battle sometimes, wandering in the desert beyond respawn's range. It was stupid, considering the last time he'd disobeyed company policy he'd almost been indifferently murdered.

But…maybe that's just what he was looking for.

Anything could happen to him out here. A broken ankle could mean dehydration, as slip down a ravine and he'd freeze in the night. Then he'd be gone, out of the pain in his shoes and the worse pain that burned just below the skin along his ribcage.

There was a shack not to far from the map edge. He'd find himself at it often, the lean-to just enough shelter from the cold wind. He'd sit, staring at the opposite wall for hours, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep if he went back to base and that he'd be just as exhausted in the morning.

It was a habit now. Here was his fortress of solitude.

But it only took once for it to come crashing down.

One night, the Demoman trailed him to his sanctuary out suspicion. In a few blight words, he had demanded that Jane tell him what he was doing, and admit he was up to no good. Jane had screamed right back that, telling that it was none of his business, and Jane owed nothing to such traitorous scum. It escalated naturally after that, words becoming blows, and sending Jane into the side of the shack's frail walls. They didn't remember how to have a conversation that didn't involve violence.

"You." Tavish's fist cracked into the side of Jane's cheek. "Don't get." He raised his arm for another blow. "To. Call me." Each word smashing the feeble cartilage of Jane's face. "A. Traitor!"

Jane finally managed to get a punch in. Using the momentary distraction, he charged with his shoulder, sending them both to the ground.

"Call a spade a spade," Jane spat back, now returning the favor of pounding Tavish's face.

"Oh yeah? LOOK IN THE BLOODY MIRROR YOU BASTARD!" Tavish screamed in reply. Jane didn't get much time on top, Tavish rolling them over harshly like this was just another bar brawl. "I TRUSTED YOU. YOU WERE MY BEST MATE YOU AND YOU STARTED ALL OF THIS."

So many words flowing between them. And it hurt worse than the insults they slung at each other when they killed, since these were all true. Jane didn't believe half the things that came out of his mouth, but these got to the core of it all.

"I WOULD NEVER HAVE STARTED IT IF YOU HANDN'T CALLED ME WHAT YOU DID." The bitter word didn't manage to make it past Jane's lips, even wet as they were with rage. That was the chain pulled on the bottom of the sink, the ferocity with which he fought the Demoman increased tenfold.

Tavish seemed to hesitate above him. It didn't stop Jane. They were beyond words, and he wanted to finish this once and for all. He didn't want to like killing Tavish anymore. He didn't want anything.

And no mater how this battle ended, it would be over either way.

Tavish's hands closed around his throat. He tried to peel them off, clawing at the strong fingers that he'd once longed to have squeeze his shoulder. Looking up at the face that had once been the only bright spot in this whole war.

"Don't try to blame this on me!" Tavish roared. "Whatever lies you've been telling yourself, I don't want to hear them."

He picked up Jane by the neck and slammed him back down. All at once, with the abrupt stun to the back of his head, Jane felt the fight leave him. It was a realization, suddenly, to know how this fight was going to end. And he was okay with that. Poetic, that in the end his worst enemy had won one final time.

"You were supposed to be my friend!" Tavish said, still screaming. "You were my only friend, the only person whoever meant anything!"

As the dark began to creep at Jane's vision, he managed a weak chuckle. "Funny. I thought those same things about you."

The hands loosened around Jane's throat, just a tad. He breathed slightly, surprised at the hesitation.

"Why?" Tavish demanded above him, and for once Jane noticed there were tears in his eye. "Why'd you do it then? Why'd you take the deal?"

"Because you…" Jane wheezed. "Because you called me…" He couldn't say it, though not from the lack of oxygen.

Tavish's hands were gone from his neck, but the Demoman leaned over his chest that much harder. "What?" he begged. "W-what did I say th-that made you hate me so fucking much?"

A tear landed on Jane's cheek. He realized he'd never seen Tavish this close in a long time, in a way that he could see every crease in his skin, every faded scar along his cheek.

Jane still felt like hands were around his throat. "Civilian," he repeated, the fucking words getting through him only once.

He just wanted to die now. He'd been so close. He didn't want to come back after giving up.

Tavish just stared blankly back. "What?"

"I'm not saying it again," Jane hissed.

But Tavish didn't finish him off. Instead he looked lost, hurt, everything Jane had felt, but this time he wasn't angry to see it on the Demoman's face. This time, it looked real.

"But I never…" Tavish began.

And the possibility made Jane's heart still. That wasn't possible. Tavish had lied so many times before, but why would he lie now? Why wasn't he killing Jane just like his worst enemy was supposed to do?

The hesitation must have shown in his eyes.

"Jane I never," Tavish said more firmly. And oh god, did Jane dare to believe him? They'd gone to far, there was no admitting they might have made a mistake. But there was no going forward either, not when Tavish wouldn't kill him just to finish the job.

And he'd said Jane's Name.

Something in the way his voice lilted just so, the warmness of his accent and the way he pronounced the a, it made Jane doubt it just for a moment.

"You're lying," Jane mumbled. "Everything, this whole friendship was a lie. You were never my ally."

"I wanted to be," Tavish whimpered, his hands clutching the front of Jane's shirt instead of his neck. His face was a fog of hurt, scrunched in pain as even more tears flowed down his face. "I wanted you so badly. But not like this."

His head hung in defeat.

Jane knew he could push him off right now and the Demo would offer no resistance. They were outside of respawn, it would only take a few minutes to finish him.

But Jane didn't. He sat up, Tavish sliding off him. But not completely, their bodies so close from their brutal battle the line between fighting and holding seemed to blur. Jane's back pressed against the shack wall now, Tavish hunkered over with arms wrapped around. The Name on Jane's skin itched.

He didn't know how to believe him. But they'd stopped fighting, and maybe that was close enough.

If the line between killing and embracing was faded, then distinction between Tavish holding him and Tavish pressing his mouth forward was nonexistant. Jane didn't remember it happening, just knew that it, and how scent of desert sand was up against him and feeling too good to deny. The sharp prick of Tavish's beard scratched against his own stubble, and he melted as tears pricked his eyes.

It lasted a breath. Then longer. Then it couldn't be denied that Jane was kissing him back. It curled something primal in his stomach, a warm serpent that burned away the pain with scales of fire. The Name on his skin threatened to sear right through him.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily in the space left between them. Jane gasped even harder than Tavish, air still struggling through his bruised windpipe. They soaked in the warmth they'd made together, neither one willing to admit it was relief.

"How…" Jane gargled, his voice broken. He wasn't looking at Tavish, their faces resting cheek to cheek. "How did this happen?"

Tavish laughed. It sounded good, even as frail as it was. "I have no idea."

"But this whole time…you only had one Name left. You must have known we were enemies from the beginning."

Pulling back, Tavish straightened just enough that Jane could see the wry smile on his lips. "Ah well. I may have…fibbed that just a bit."

Jane just blinked, not understanding. The only thing he knew with certainty anymore was that Tavish's body was warm against his while the desert turned to ice outside.

Tavish grew uncomfortable under Jane's gaze, and finally admitted in a sigh, "I don't have three Names. I only have one."

"Only…one?" Jane's mouth was dry.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tavish looked away in embarrassment. Or maybe shame. "It's weird, I know. And it's not something you just go around telling people so I just…never bothered to correct you."

Jane's beliefs had been tested today, every last one of them. But this one was so easy. Because everyone wants to believe they're not alone.

"Tavish," Jane's voice cracked. And it had been so long since he'd said that Name it physically hurt. "I only have you."

Tavish's brow furrowed, just for a second. More disbelief, and Jane knew what he wanted to do. The Soldier shuffled, moving his and Tavish's weight until he could pull up the edge of his shirt.

"I only have you too," he continued, revealing the small script on his chest. "One name, for both of us."

The laugh that bubbled out of Tavish's mouth was the beautiful thing Jane had ever heard. He would have started to cry tears weren't leaking from him already. Tavish's hand came up to the side of his neck.

"We really are a couple of idiots, aren't we?" the Demoman smiled through the tears in his eye.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. A moment of silence passed while Jane reflected on how much life had changed in only an hour. "So…we're each other's true loves, huh? Took a lot of trial and elimination. But I think maybe…I always wanted it to be that way."

"Aye. Me too." But then Tavish paused. "Unless…" He looked across at Jane again. "If…I only have you, and you only have me, then maybe there wasn't any trial and elimination at all."

"What do you mean?" Jane blinked.

"Well, we've been allies. We've been enemies. And yet we still loved each other through it all." Tavish grinned. "You see, right? You're only on me once because you're all three."

An oh caught in Jane's lungs. That was impossible and yet…

They'd somehow made sense of it all. This bastard who'd waltzed into his life so suddenly had managed to be the most important person in every single way. Only one Name, because there was only one man in the world for Jane.

"Oh," Jane said. Fresh tears fell down his face, and he leaned up to kiss Tavish again.