Chapter Text
He’s certain there’s something the old sheriff forgot to tell him.
Jimmy steps through the open gate to Gobland, sheriff badge in hand. The cave is quiet, eerily so. Jimmy’s footsteps echo harshly against the walls.
He can’t go back to Tumble Town, not anymore. It’s not safe there. This will be his final stop, before… well. Before leaving, he supposes.
There must be something else.
Where is fWhip?
The lights in the tavern are on, Jimmy notes, with faint music coming from within. He carefully pushes the door open, ducking slightly as he steps inside.
The place is as lively as his foggy memories of it would have him believe— atmospheric lighting and jaunty music accompany the indecipherable conversations of many people at once. It’s decorated beautifully, with the central bar reaching out towards a large array of seating, two beautiful staircases leading up to a second balcony floor.
Though, as he enters, Jimmy can’t help but notice as multiple surrounding conversations suddenly grow quiet, before hushed whispers return in their place.
As expected, they remember him.
It doesn’t take long for Jimmy to spot him: the tallest goblin, the ruler of Gobland— before he stepped down, anyway.
The man sees him, too. Hopping down from his place at the bar, fWhip carefully maneuvers through the crowd, a few passing words spoken to his citizens as he does, before pushing past Jimmy, motioning him to follow fWhip out the door.
The door shuts behind them both, once again drowning out the music— the only sounds he can hear now are of the distant forge, and the occasional drip of water hitting the stone floor. fWhip continues a few more paces, before rounding on Jimmy.
“What are you doing here?” fWhip asks, voice filled with what Jimmy could only describe as a deep exhaustion.
“What am I doing here?” Jimmy repeats, voice pitching into an indignant tone. “No, the better question is, what did you tell the old sheriff?”
fWhip raises an eyebrow. “I told him where to find that badge,” he says, gesturing to the sheriff badge still in Jimmy’s hand, “and it looks like the message was received just fine.”
Squaring his shoulders, Jimmy takes a half step forward. “No, I know you told him something else, didn’t you? What—“
“Look,” fWhip cuts him off, raising one hand, “aren’t you tired of this? I’m tired of this.”
(…huh?)
Jimmy blinks at him, train of thought completely derailed.
“I get it, man,” fWhip continues, “we broke up. You hate me now. I get it. But, I’m tired of arguing about everything all the time. Aren’t you?”
(That’s… not…)
Jimmy opens his mouth as if to say something, anything at all. No words come out.
“Just tell me what you want,” fWhip says, “and we can be done here. What do you want?” He quickly dips a hand into his vest pocket, before holding something out to Jimmy, “is it this?”
The deputy badge… the real one, just as pristine as the day Jimmy appointed fWhip deputy. Reaching out, Jimmy gingerly takes the badge from fWhip’s outstretched hand, tucking the sheriff badge back into his pocket. He turns the deputy badge over in his hands. The metal catches the faint light from the buildings around them, the reflection bright in his palms.
The deputy badge… he has it back. He has the badge back, after all this time. It feels… hollow.
(It’s… wrong. This isn’t right. This isn’t…)
“Is that all, then?” fWhip flicks one ear, staring through him with tired eyes. Before Jimmy can come up with a reply, fWhip is already pushing past him, back towards the tavern.
This isn’t it. No. No, this— Jimmy whirls around, fWhip already halfway back to the tavern.
If he leaves… that’ll be it. A sense of horrible finality crushes down on Jimmy’s chest. If fWhip leaves, it’ll be too late. If fWhip leaves, Jimmy will never see him again— never be able to bring himself to come back here again.
He has to do something.
“Wait—“ Jimmy blurts, an urgency that startles even himself laced into the word.
fWhip stops, halfway up the path to the tavern. Slowly, he turns, looking down at Jimmy.
What now?
“I— fWhip, I’m not—“ he stutters, tripping over whatever sentence he’s trying to come up with. “The badge— I—“
He takes a deep breath, then another. The deputy badge feels too heavy in his hands, too warm from fWhip’s pocket, too much like it shouldn’t belong with him.
He holds it out: “I don’t want this.”
At that, both if fWhip’s eyebrows go up. “Then, what do you want?”
What does he want?
(There’s a thousand things Jimmy can’t bring himself to even think about, much less say aloud.)
His hand drops slightly, eyes lowered. His heart aches from fWhip’s sharp words. He hates that he hurts because of it.
Wind howls distantly through the dripstone cave above them, clouds blocking out any chance at daylight from the sparse holes in the ceiling. Despite standing in the middle of the city, fWhip stood in front of him, Jimmy feels horrifyingly alone.
(Without them all, what can he say?)
“You were right,” Jimmy eventually settles on. Even these words sting off his tongue.
Above him, he hears fWhip take a step back down the path. “I was right? About what?”
“About the signs,” Jimmy murmurs, “way back when. You were right.”
(The signs… he’s been thinking about them since the day he saw them. Claiming he’s breaking his own laws, disrespecting himself, that he can do better. fWhip was right.)
(Admitting even that to himself feels like a punch to the gut.)
Looking up, Jimmy finds that fWhip is standing in front of him once again. He raises the hand holding the badge, offering it back.
(He feels like he’s drowning, and he’s only just now realized it, after all this time. He should know how to swim, and yet he’s drowning.)
“Please,” Jimmy says.
(It feels humiliating.)
fWhip looks at the badge, then at Jimmy’s face. Wordlessly, he beckons Jimmy to follow once more.
Up the winding paths, fWhip brings them both to the Gobland forge. Lava bubbles inside the grate, and as fWhip pulls it open, heat pours out. Jimmy squints from the light, turning his face away as he’s blasted by wave after wave of hot air. He looks at fWhip.
fWhip is looking at him, a nearly unreadable expression on his face. He looks… determined? Resolute? His eyes then flick to the badge in Jimmy’s hands, then pointedly towards the forge.
Oh. Oh…
All at once, Jimmy understands. fWhip doesn’t want the badge back.
He looks down at the deputy badge in his hands…