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“Do you promise?”
“It’s just middle school, Tobes, we’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that! Just—just promise you and I won’t fight or do anything dumb. We’ll be friends, no matter what.”
“Always. It’s us against the world.”
Something is different between them.
It’s not a big thing, not really, more of a soft shift in the air when they’re stuck alone together. And they know how to cover it up, with their jokes and their laughter, but it’s still there, hidden underneath the cracked smiles and broken fragments. There’s a darkness that lingers over their blue and orange, their causality and simplicity, and things are tricky. It’s like walking a tightrope but never being able to see what’s ahead or what lies below.
The walk home is silent. The sun is setting behind them now, enrapturing them in blues and pinks and yellows. The wind is blowing softly, and Toby spares a glance at his best friend for a moment.
Jim is holding onto the amulet like a lifeline, almost as if a monster is going to come out and attack them any minute now. Two weeks had been a long time, for both of them. There are things to adjust to, things to forget—things to remember.
And Toby wants Jim to remember he isn’t alone anymore.
So he breathes out, takes another look, and has his heart in his throat when he asks, “Hey, Jimbo, you okay?”
And Jim stops for a moment, inhaling. His fingers curl around the amulet, before tucking it into his pocket. He looks up to the sky and smiles. “Yeah. I think I will be, Tobes.”
He takes comfort in that, in his words and in the nickname. To have someone call him that again is a reassurance, a hand on his back reminding him that things are going to be okay.
And Toby desperately wants to ask what happened in there, what he’s seen, and what he’s learned. He wants to fill the void of information about the unknown. But there’s a line between Toby’s questions and Jim’s answers and now’s not the time to walk across. Things are too fragile.
What matters now is that Jim’s home, that he’s alive, and that he’s here.
So he watches as Jim waves him goodbye, separating from him to walk across the street to where his house resides. Toby’s always considered them lucky to live this close to one another, and that won’t stop now, even if the border between unspoken words and the understood is opening wider than ever before.
He’ll have to figure out a way to close it soon. He has to.
“You don’t seem afraid,” Toby had told him once, a long time ago. It was sometime after Jim had defeated Bular, before Angor Rot stomped in. They were sitting in Troll Market, eyes at the Hearthstone, and Jim had told Toby about his plans to save Enrique. “Not like before.”
Jim shrugged and smiled, a small tilt to his head. “Why should I be? I’ve got you, don’t I?”
There are words Toby doesn’t want to say out loud, questions he knows he shouldn’t ask. But they linger, they stay, ghosting around his thoughts. They reach for Jim, slow movements before the time passes over and it’s too late. And it’s scary to think what could happen if he did say them—there’s too much at stake, too much at risk. And besides, Jim’s got too much to worry about right now.
Claire nudges him, gesturing at Jim. She knows what he wants to say because she does, too, but words die in her throat the same way the questions burn his thoughts. She wants to understand why he left—they all do.
And they’re standing in grief and sadness now, holding onto a little red hat. Gnome Chompsky was a hero, and now he’s dead.
“Nothing’s been right since—” Toby falters, and there’s an urge to say them, to scream them. His fists clench. “Why did you have to go into the Darklands without us?”
There’s a fissure now, bursting open cracks that have tried to hold themselves together. It’s too late, anyway.
“We found the amulet together, we trained together, we killed Angor Rot together! And you just
left
us!” Toby says, and there it is. The words, the questions, the thoughts.
Claire says something to back him up, Blinky, too, but Toby can’t hear them. All he’s seeing is the doors closing in front of him, Jim on the other side, wearing the Eclipse armor. It’s a vivid memory still, maybe always will be. He hears himself screaming again, begging for his best friend back, but no one ever listens. And when Jim speaks—he finds himself grounded again, because Jim is here now, and that’s what matters.
“I couldn’t bear losing any more of you,” Jim says, and it’s soft and vulnerable. It’s when Toby finally understands. Because it’s something only Jim would do—he’s selfless and selfish at the same time. He’d die for his friends, and Toby’s always known that, but now he finally realizes to what extent. He would risk all of trollkind for them, and then do all of it again to keep them safe.
It’s more painful now that he knows. He sort of wishes he’d never asked.
“I thought since we found it together, we’d always be in it together,” Toby had said once, under the soft lights of a hospital room.
Jim stares at him, holding onto the amulet. There’s guilt and sadness and Toby wants it to wash away.
It turns out, there are some things that stay even after the storm has passed.
On the way home that night, it’s just the two of them left again. It’s quiet and awkward just a bit, and the crickets are the only sound he hears. They’re almost home, the two ending houses coming up in the distance, when Jim speaks up.
“I’m sorry,” he says. His eyes remain downcast, refusing to make eye contact. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I
did
, I chose to go in there alone, but—”
“I know,” Toby says, because he does, he finally gets it. “It’s just that—for so long, it was the Jim and Toby show, you know?” There’s a memory somewhere along the line, of him admitting this to Claire. He doesn’t think about it too long. “We’re a dynamic duo, a package deal, you and I against the world. At least, I thought we were. When you left—”
Toby looks at Jim, who turns away, guilt lining the curves of his eyes. He takes Jim’s hand, and squeezes it.
“When you left, I was a little messed up. Sometimes I was afraid that you’d never come back, that you were—you were dead. But hey, you came back, didn’t you? You’re here now. And—and as long as we start doing things together again, we’ll be okay.”
Jim squeezes back and offers a small smile. It’s one full of relief, a mixture of gratitude and a bit of left over guilt.
“Yeah,” Jim agrees, and he lets go of Toby’s hand to open his arms wide. Toby steps into the embrace without a second thought. “Together.”
The cracks start to slowly piece themselves back together after that.
Things start getting better. Jim is adjusting to the way things work, rearranging the thoughts and the actions in his brain. Even with the threat of Gunmar possibly being out in Arcadia, things seem to get better.
But of course, it never really lasts long.
It’s fun, it truly is, to just relax for a day with the others, even if it is detention. Toby laughs and eats and acts like a total dork, but it’s all okay. These are what teenagers are supposed to do. They’re not supposed to worry about dying on a daily basis.
And amidst it all, Toby finds himself looking at Jim. It seems, for a moment, that he’s just a normal kid—like he isn’t Atlas with two worlds on his back. He’s smiling and relaxing and he looks so free. Toby wishes he could stay like that forever. Jim deserves that much.
This may be the life Jim is doomed to have—the life they’re all doomed to have—but Toby is going to try to make it worthwhile.
For Jim.
“You’re not going to replace me with Claire, are you?” It’s a joke, one laced with lightness and humor, but Toby had been eager to hear what Jim has to say all those weeks ago.
“Are you kidding me? No one could ever replace you, Tobes.”
“I never told you what happened down there, did I? How I survived the Darklands?”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, no, it’s okay, TP. I want to tell you.”
“Okay, but only if you’re ready.”
“Yeah, I think I am.”
As Toby watches Jim get lowered into The Deep, he tries to stop himself from crying—it doesn’t work and he can taste the salt on his lips. Because this is his fault; he could’ve done a better job at defending him from the Tribunal, he could’ve stalled longer, could’ve
helped, could’ve saved his best friend
—
Jim is gone.
His heart is full of dread and guilt again and it feels too much like before, and he wants it to leave. Not again, not Jim, not anymore. Please.
His best friend might be dead. His best friend is dead. No troll has ever escaped The Deep—what chance could Jim possibly have?
He’s gone, and it’s for good this time.
It seemed so long ago, that night before Jim had to battle Draal, but Toby could remember their conversation perfectly.
“You good, Jimbo?” he had asked over the phone, when he saw Jim’s light was still on. “Big day tomorrow.”
“I know,” Jim replied, his voice weary and exhausted. He exhaled into the phone, shaking. “Listen, Tobes, if I die tomorrow—”
“No,” he interrupted quickly. “No, Jim, you’re not going to—”
“But I
might
.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Yes, I
do
,” Jim said, and it broke Toby to hear it. Both remained silent for a while.
“I’m not going to lose my best friend,” Toby had whispered into the phone. “You’re not going to die.”
Jim took another shaky breath. “I hope you’re right.” He paused for a moment, letting the silence fill in. Then, “Good night, Tobes. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He’d hung up before Toby had the chance to reply.
The thing is, Toby has learned, after all of this, is that promises are made to be broken.
Jim will always promise to stay, but he’ll leave before either of them can do anything about it. It may never be a willing decision, but there are some choices that can get out of hand.
And sometimes, there isn’t a way to fix it.
But another thing Toby does learn, is that there are some things that aren’t meant to be broken. Promises, sure, but a bond like theirs can’t be taken apart so easily.
They’d sworn an oath, four years ago, that they’d always remain friends no matter what, that it would be them against the world, and it’s not going to stop now.
So when Toby sees Jim again, alive from The Deep, something inside of him learns how to breathe again.
And he figures, maybe they’re always going to be like this. They’re always going to get separated and ripped apart by circumstance, and that might change things between them, but in the end, they’ll still be the the dynamic duo they’ve always been.
“You’re okay,” Toby breathes out, wrapping his arms around Jim. “You’re not dead—you’re here! You’re okay!”
And Jim laughs softly, a sound Toby had missed, genuine and real. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
And he grins, wide and happy—even just for a moment. They’re still going after Gunmar, he knows that, so he’ll take what he can get for now.
“I wouldn’t want to,” he says, and it’s enough for now, “even for the world.”
And Jim might leave more times than he wants to, but that’s okay. He always finds his way home, eventually, and Toby will always be there to open the door.
“Hey, when all of this is over, do you wanna go get some tacos? My treat.”
Jim smiles. “Tacos sound good.”