JC didn’t wake as Joey carried him. When Lance pulled Justin inside, Joey had already laid JC down on his own bed.

He lay quietly, though he pulled his arms back around his head, as if it hurt and he was protecting it. They all stared down at him; they couldn’t believe he was back, that he was alive.

“We should stay,” Joey said. “One of us, anyway.” His hand was on JC’s arm as he spoke, like if he let go, if one of them didn’t hold on at all times, he’d disappear.

“I will,” Justin said. Joey nodded and let go of JC’s arm, stepping back so Justin could sit down on the small, narrow bed.

Lance left but Joey waited, watching as Justin lay down carefully beside JC, barely touching him, just one hand on his arm. He left when Justin started humming.

Joey came in early the next morning. Lance was brewing the morning’s ration of coffee.

He stood over the pair on the bed, simply watching them breathe for a while, until he noticed that JC’s eyes were open, watching him.

“C?” Joey said quietly.

JC’s gaze didn’t falter or change, but Joey thought he saw his eyes flicker, just a little, in recognition or pain, Joey didn’t know.

He nudged Justin with his knee. Justin came awake quickly, almost jerking himself out of sleep. He looked up at Joey.

“His eyes are open.” Joey jerked his chin in JC’s direction.

Justin turned back to the other man in the bed. “JC?”

“Hi,” JC said quietly.

Justin smiled and grabbed his hand, holding on so tightly his knuckles whitened, and Joey stared and Lance, who stood in the doorway watching, laughed.

Joey blew softly on his mug of coffee. Justin chattered in his ear.

“We’re just going to leave him here?”

Joey blew calmly again. “We have to. He’s supposed to be dead. Or working for the Army. He's been activated, Justin. He can’t just show up at work.”

“But he can’t be alone, not really.”

Joey looked at JC, staring at the TV set that sometimes broadcasted news of the other cities and countries, but mostly just had commercials, or some equivalent, a smiling, happy person talking about their job and how much they loved it. They’d made Justin do one of those, leaning over a toilet, scrub brush in hand, to remind them.

He sighed. “We have to. We can’t skip or they’ll come looking for us.”

“You’re right,” Justin sighed. “But I don’t like it.”

Joey didn’t reply, his eyes were fixed on the TV. He watched as a woman a little older than him sat typing on her computer before she turned to the camera and told everyone how exciting her work was, how much she felt she was doing for her leader, her people. Joey thought he might remember her.

He was halfway down his street, on his way to Central, when he realized who it was. Janine. He hadn’t seen her in a long time.