In Trench I'm Not Alone

"I am Clancy, prodigal son, done running, come up with Josh Dun, wanted dead or alive."

His words, the words that half of Dema knew now. He was no longer Tyler. Clancy was alive, and he was preparing.

The City, the Bishops, had tried to take Clancy away from him. Tried to use him and drown him and bury him until Clancy didn't exist, or until Clancy meant something else other than Freedom. Until Clancy was The City's, the Bishop's, Vialism's. But Clancy was his. Him.

"I am Clancy," he whispered to himself, because he really didn't feel like it.

He felt less than Tyler, even. Nowhere near the concept of Clancy. Maybe whatever the Bishops had done to him while he made Scaled and Icy really did have an impact on him, because saying he was Clancy almost hurt.

Was he? Was he really a Bandito? He still wasn't sure that he belonged here, dressed in greens and yellows. He wasn't Tyler, and he wasn't Clancy, so who was he?

A line was being crossed, the line that kept him away from the ideals of Dema and the beliefs of the Banditos. He was scared, so scared, that he didn't belong here, that he was lying to himself and everyone else. What if he was the wrong person? How could he be the right person, when he felt like this? Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong, and they would all hate him. One more step over the line and everything would blur for him, and he would be done for.

***

The Torchbearer was excited. They were so close to being free, he could feel it.

Tyler, Clancy, had made it to Voldsøy and back out, to Trench more times than anyone before, and despite being suppressed and trapped and used and hidden by Nico and the Niners, he was here. He was here and he was getting ready to go back to the city that had done so much to him, to face what was done to him to free everyone.

Honestly, the Torchbearer couldn't be more in awe. Clancy was amazing. He was so strong, because despite all of his emotions that would have left anyone lesser than him crippled, he was here. He had made it past every hurdle, and Josh wished he could be like that. If he had been the one to go through all of that, he doubted that he would have been as strong as Clancy. There was just something so fascinating about him, his undying urge to push on through everything difficult, to stay alive, to fight.

But even though Josh knew how strong Clancy was, he was still worried about him. He seemed to be pulling back, on the brink of panic, now that they were preparing to riot against the City, and Josh wasn't really sure what to do. He wanted to help, but he didn't know what Clancy needed, or if he even wanted help.

Josh pressed his hands to his face, sighing into them before pulling away, looking back down at the map in front of him, pushing some papers away from where he needed to be looking. He wished Clancy would help a little more, it would be easier to plan everything with a second person, and he didn't want to ask anyone else.

He stood with another breath, pushing out of his tent. The air was cool outside, a relief from the stuffiness of his tent.

He had made sure that Clancy was next to him again, their own little areas so close it felt like their own space, isolated from everyone else, their little island. A part of him had wondered if it was strange to set themselves apart from the rest of the camp after they had spent so much time alone together, but the rest of him reasoned against it. First, he was worried about Clancy being taken back to Dema again, and Josh wouldn't be able to do anything about it if they were separated. Second, it felt wrong to be away from Clancy, at this point. They were connected, together, closer than friends, more than siblings. Clancy relied on him, and he relied on Clancy, and being far away from him, even if that 'far away' was just across the camp, made Josh feel like something was missing, like someone had stolen his lungs.