There's a strange awareness in Archer's eyes, for just a few seconds. He knows, in that moment, that while life and death alike may be meaningless to him, it's still important to someone like Jack.

Can he himself ever find that kind of meaning again? Or perhaps...he has already, and doesn't dare admit it?

That realization is still dawning on him when Jack finally settles on the right thing to say. At least, it's the right thing for him to say. For Archer...a weary grin crooks up his mouth, and suddenly he no longer looks young and vulnerable. He looks much older than he is, and terribly cynical and jaded.

"Someone should have told me that a long time ago...Jack." It feels strange to say that one name. But he gives a cocky little shrug and rises to his feet. He's going to smile and be confident for a dying man now. "All right. Man, I sort of wish I'd known a guy like you many years ago. Well, forget thinking about that right now. I'll go make the right choices. I'll see you sometime in the City."

He turns, and when his back is to the other man--

"Thanks."

And he shrugs off the raining-down rocks, he shrugs off his own fading pain, and he strides into the fiery glow to take care of what's still to be done.