The morning can't come fast enough. After hours of lying awake, it's finally time to get up and go. Jack writes a quick note to Cry and Matthew stating he would be gone for the day and that they shouldn't worry before heading outside. He sprints down the street, reaching his and Mark's assigned meeting place in the blink of an eye.
Sure enough, the hero leans against the wall of the office building, his eyes brightening the moment he sees Jack. The villain nearly starts sobbing again as he races straight into Mark's arms and buries his face in his shoulder.
"Mark-" Jack begins.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here. Shh."
Jack nods a few times, holding him for a moment longer before stepping back. Mark grins and takes his hand, leading him out of the building. They move through the streets as quietly as possible, careful to avoid raider groups and rebels. Their conversation stays at a minimum until they approach the door of the hero's shelter.
"The other heroes live here too and they're still grieving, so just remember that. We'll stay out of their way, but I'm just warning you..." Mark's jaw clenches a little and his eyes flicker with pain. "Felix is struggling the most right now. I'm not sure how he's feeling today yet, so we'll just have to walk on eggshells when we're around him."
Jack nods and follows the hero into the base. It's small but functional, furnished with all the necessities to make it feel like a home. Upon hearing the door open, Chica, Mark's fluffy golden retriever, bounds up to them with her tail wagging so hard Jack swears it'll fly off.
"Hey there, girl! Long time, no see!" Jack says, smiling as he rubs the dog's ears.
Mark grins and kisses her head. "Hey, Chica-bica! Who's a good girl?"
After a few more moments of the two men showering the dog in love, Mark leads Jack to the living room. The hero settles into the cushions before pulling the villain down with him, causing Jack to yelp with surprise as he stumbles and falls into Mark's arms. He laughs breathlessly, the joy of being with Mark making him feel almost light-headed. It's been so long since he simply felt happy like this.
The hero lies down, pulling Jack close against his chest. The villain smiles, hugging Mark close and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. His mind seems unable to comprehend that the hero is indeed with him and not just a wonderful, cruel dream. Everything feels surreal, but Jack doesn't mind. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake up.
——
Doing his best not to disturb the peace too much, Mark pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and covers them both with it. Jack nuzzles against the hero's neck, his steady breaths tickling his skin. Absentmindedly, Mark traces the muscles and grooves of the villain's back with his fingertips, gazing at the man beside him with a deep-seated contentedness. It didn't take long for Jack to fall asleep, his breaths even and slow as he nestles against the hero. Mark's heart swells and he pulls the Irishman closer, brushing his lips against his forehead. He missed Jack so much. Having him back in his arms, fast asleep and peaceful, is one of the best things he could have asked for.
His gaze lands on the eyepatch and almost instantly, he has questions. Jack told him the cure worked yesterday. Does that mean he can take off his eyepatch without consequence? Is it true that Anti's gone? His fingers tense against the villain's back as he slowly lifts his free hand, running his digits through Jack's green hair. Carefully, he pulls the straps of the Irishman's eyepatch off and allows the white cloth to flutter to the floor.
Sure enough, in a case where Anti would have woken Jack's body up in an instant, the villain stays asleep. Mark exhales, relieved, and rests his chin on Jack's head.
An hour later the Irishman's eyes open slowly, causing Mark's breath to catch in his throat. His right eye is the same as always; a stunning, crystalline blue, while his left iris and pupil are clouded. The hero finds him as breath-taking as ever, especially now that he can see his whole face. Jack notices his gaze and after a split second of confusion, claps his hand over his blind eye.
"Where's my eyepatch?" he asks, anxiety filling his voice as he starts to get up.
Mark gently pushes him back down, running a hand down his side and resting it on his hip. "Doesn't matter."
"But..." The Irishman trails off when he meets the hero's eyes. "You don't need to be nice, Mark. I know it's unpleasant."
"It's not," the hero replies. "It's the most normal looking blind eye I've ever seen."
Jack shakes his head, burying his face into Mark's chest. The hero squeezes the Irishman's hip gently and nuzzles his nose in his hair.
"You're sure you don't mind?" Jack asks in a whisper. "Me having my eyepatch off?"
"Positive," Mark mumbles in response.
Comfortable silence falls between the pair. The hero pulls Jack closer, the Irishman nestling his head under his chin. His fingers outline Mark's torso, freezing when they brush over the bullet scar on his stomach. The hero tenses for a moment before reaching down, taking Jack's hand in his.
"I did that," the Irishman says softly, guilt filling his tone.
Mark runs his thumb over Jack's knuckles. "That was Anti, and now Anti is gone. Hush."
The villain frowns, but listens to the American's orders and falls silent. He sighs heavily and snuggles closer to Mark, pressing his forehead against the hero's chest.
Jack shuts his eyes momentarily. I'm going to be okay.