Author's note
This could technically be a scene in 'Anarchy', if we went into more depth about Scott's mourning.

This was also written before 'Anarchy', but then I thought 'hang on we need backstory' and then wrote 'Anarchy'. Why am I like this.

Scott thinks. Which is honestly more than I do-

(Warning for: character death and injury/ blood. Mourning husband (or should I say widow?).

———

It's nearly the end of the day, the final few slivers of sunlight making a valiant effort to spill across the sweeping clouds, when Scott thinks about his husband. About Jimmy.

The same Jimmy who yells his name to get his attention despite being barely thirty feet away; the same one who built wonky circles and couldn't spell at the best of times, and likely would've died ages ago if not for Scott's interference with destiny.

Jimmy was the one who said it was fate when they met. In a cave, of all places. And that was where it began.

All the jabs and digs when his husband gets into some sort of trouble or another, leaving it up to Scott to save him from something usually caused by Jimmy himself.

All the time spent fretting that Jimmy was unwell, only for the man to turn up then and there like a lost puppy, concerned over Scott's own well-being.

All the hours spent learning all the tricks he could use to make his husband smile and blush and laugh in ways few had seen, and fewer understood the value of.

All of the moments they spent together, with a man who'd promised to lay down his life for Scott in a heartbeat, and someone he'd protect and love until his dying breath.

Scott thinks of his husband, and he is content. How could he not be?

For the sun is barely settling across the tallest trees atop their flowering hills, when Jimmy scrambles up the sloped ground to where Scott stands now, looking across their home with thoughts a million miles away.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startles Scott from his runaway mind; he turns to see precisely the man he's been thinking about, bemused, and wondering what he's doing up here.

All alone, staring into the distance mysteriously... It looked like he was lost in a daydream, Jimmy grins, wrapping his arms around Scott's shoulders.

Thankful for the warmth, Scott relaxes into his husband's embrace. It's a little hard to reciprocate from this angle (especially when Jimmy's distractingly buried his head in Scott's hair), but he manages to gently smack his hand into Jimmy's cheek. Affection returned successfully.

"And what is it to you?"

At that, Jimmy responds (and Scott swears he can even hear the pout in his husband's voice) he just wants his husband to be ok. Is that so much an ask?

No. No, it is not, and that's something they both know. Not in a place like 3rd Life, where you didn't know if you'd lose another life by the next day, or the next. Whether your alliances would break apart and you'd be left in their rubble. Or, slightly like the other unshakeable partnerships of the server, whether it'd be your husband who'd be gone instead.

Their time together is as limited as their lives. They claimed they were fine with it (though deep down, they know why the lie feels so much sweeter).

With a soft breeze rustling through the leaves and various flowers of the valley, they sway. Slowly, together, like each little bud on a lilac as the wind blows, like purple wind chimes with no music, no matter how badly one hoped.

Scott hums a small tune.

Jimmy takes his hand. Would you like to dance? The invitation is clear.

"Do you even know how to dance?"

Jimmy only laughs. Scott turns to face his husband, one hand still carefully clasped in Jimmy's, the other on Jimmy's shoulder. His husband puts his own free hand on Scott's waist, giving a small tap for reassurance. For himself, or for Scott, they're not completely sure.

Continuing to hum the tune of some classical song or another, Scott nudges his husband's feet into place at first, until they both get some sort of rhythm down. The look of concentration Jimmy holds -the subtle furrowing of his brow- is endearing.

Meanwhile the sun continues to set in the background, casting a veil of warm, golden light across the earth. It catches on the hills and paints shimmering, glittering ripples into the pond; it gives Jimmy the most extraordinary halo, and Scott couldn't stop the adoration showing in his soft expression even if he wanted to.

"I love you."

Those three words, said to his (his!) husband, never lose their sweetness. Nor the depth of their sincerity, as Scott yearns to push every inch of love he has for the other man into those whispered confessions. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could stay here forever, and the rest of their world would melt away in their absence.

None of it mattered, so long as they were together.

"Jimmy..."

Scott opens his eyes. He wishes he never did.

It takes him a moment to realise that he's screaming.

His world is on fire and he's standing in the ashes. A crackle shoots through the sky as thunderous clouds roll through, painted red in light of the fires, ravaging their once beautiful haven like desperation and poured gasoline.

Frozen in place, he stares into the dead eyes of his husband as he holds Jimmy's unmoving corpse in his arms.

It's the only thing he can focus on, despite the arrows raining down upon them, despite the shouts and clashes of battle, despite the blurred, ringing sound of an overkill amount of TNT.

Each breath starts becoming heavier until it feels like he's fighting for air in his lungs that Jimmy can't breath.

The arrow looks to have only recently pierced through Jimmy's neck. It's not supposed to be there. Scott wants it gone. It's hurting Jimmy. It shouldn't be there.

With the once-happy tears now blinding his vision like rain, his own heartbeat sounds too loud as Scott grabs a hold of the arrow plunged deep into Jimmy's throat and pulls.

Another deafening lightning bolt rips through the clouds. Devs almighty, there's so much blood.

Seeping into his hands, his clothes, horrifically warm and red and oozing out as Jimmy remains stone-cold and he's still screaming his throat raw because before his very eyes, his husband dies and he can't see anything through his tears.

He can't be there for Jimmy in his final moments, terrified and alone.

There's so much blood.

He chokes on the smoke in the air, the harrowed sobs convulsing through his body as the fires blaze on and Scott falls to the ground, trying desperately not to simply collapse on top of Jimmy's body too, because he can't possibly be ok without Jimmy, he can't.

Not when Jimmy is right there.

Not when he's covered in his husband's blood.

Then, faintly, at the back of his grief-torn mind, Scott remembers that corpses don't bleed.

———

...

Scott opens his eyes.

It's cold.

Nothing like the soft bed he built months ago, nor waking up to the warmth of being inside his cute hobbit home, safe and protected with his husband.

Blearily, he wonders why it's so cold and where Jimmy is. Until he catches himself on a foolish blunder, and as he stretches, his fingers brush against smooth stone. If he follows the sensation upwards, he could feel the painstakingly shaped grooves of the engravings there.

His back aches. A lot. It's to be expected, after the position he eventually passed out in. Scott doesn't even know how long he was out for, nor what time it is.

The sky has a few clouds. Some time in the day, at least.

Shakily, Scott gets to his feet, using his sword to lean against lest his legs, dangerously close to giving out, not support him. He feels like blacking out for a few more hours, simply due to sheer exhaustion. Yet he shouldn't waste the day (or really, what's left of it).

Especially not with everything going on.

So he wipes the tears from his eyes. With one last look back, Scott caresses his husband's gravestone, reaffirms his love as a goodbye, before stumbling away.

The red tulip planted there watches him disappear down the hill; all Scott can think about is revenge.

There's a server he has to burn.

———

In someplace else, after his lifetime, Jimmy presses his hand against his cheek, confused.

Was he going crazy?

That felt like...

...

"... I... I love you too."