Chapter Text
All in all, Martin had had worse days. He left the safe house almost immediately, made it to Edinburgh by dinner, and left on the first train that morning. The train wasn’t busy, and the countryside was fresh and beautiful. But the anxiety he felt for Jon overshadowed it all.
Waking up alone wasn’t all that uncommon; often Jon woke up early, or needed time alone after a nightmare. He was happy to respect that. It was rare, but not alarming, for him to be out of the safehouse, probably walking along the road trying to ground himself in the cool air. But when he hadn’t returned, Martin had started to worry. Then when he called, all the way from London, sounding all together hysterical, well. That had set a pit of anxiety in Martin’s stomach like no other.
It was more creepy entity problems. They really couldn't catch a break, could they? But until he hit London, there wasn’t much he could do.
He spent most of the train ride in silence, glued to his phone, waiting for a call or text, or even an email with information about what had happened. But nothing came until about an hour outside London.
A single line text from Basira:
Don’t panic, come to the hospital
No text had ever sent Martin into more of a panic. His fingers shook as he typed out a reply.
What happened? You’re with Jon?
It took an agonizing five minutes for her to reply.
Yes, he’s gonna be fine
Which again, was not reassuring.
Basira, can u pls explain more?
Basira
Pls
She was either ignoring him, or had turned her phone off. Or both.
The rest of the ride was painful, nerves buzzing under his skin, making him feel lightheaded and numb. Basira wasn’t one to lie or mince words. If she said Jon was going to be ok, he would be. Right?
By the time he stood outside of the hospital, Martin was shaking with anxiety. He texted Basira to see where she wanted to meet, but as he got closer to the doors he realised she was standing outside waiting for him.
“Martin,” she greeted.
“Basira,” he replied, trying for the same unfazed tone, but only coming out strained and tense.
“He’s ok,”
“You understand why I’m struggling to believe that?”
She sighed.
“What happened, Basira,”
“I’ll tell you in his room, it's chilly, and I don’t want anyone… hearing things,”
---
Jon was in a bed near the window, crowded by a concerning number of monitors and tubes and wires. He was still asleep. His head was bandaged all around his eyes.
“No,”
“I’m… sorry, Martin,”
“Why- who- what happened?”
She looked out the window, face set in a firm expression that screamed don’t ask me more or I might break you.
Martin fell gracelessly into a chair beside Jon’s bed, delicately picking up a bandaged hand. “What happened here?”
“Once he was... separated, he was human. All the stuff that happened caught up with him,”
“Oh, god,”
“Yeah, it was… bad,”
“You told me not to worry,” He accused.
“I was right, he’s stable, and he’ll recover. Mostly,”
Martin rolled his eyes, tracing lines over the only part of Jons arm not covered in bandages. Basira sat down in a chair near the end of his bed, a few feet from Martin. She looked tired, worn down and ready to drop.
“Tell me what the- what the damage is,”
She sighed, sitting up a bit. “The eyes, of course. Severe dehydration, and hunger. He hadn’t eaten in a week at least. The cuts started appearing as we left in the ambulance, all the little things that the eye healed for him. Papercuts aren’t bad, until its years worth of them all at once,”
Martin let a hollow laugh escape his mouth. “Guess he never was good at taking care of himself, was he?”
“No, no he wasn’t,”
A few moments passed in tense silence.
“Why was he even here?”
Basira sighed, looking, if possible, more weary than she had moments before. “It was Elias,”
“Of course,”
“You should ask Jon to tell you, you’ll believe it from him,”
“That crazy?”
“You have no idea,”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Basira,”
“Yes?”
“Were you the one to…” he gestured vaguely at Jon’s face.
“...Yes,”
“And he-”
“He asked me too,” She cut him off. “He was… too close to the Eye, and things were about to go badly,”
What could he say to that? Anger bubbled under his skin, but there was nowhere to direct it. Basira only did what she had to. Jon only did what he thought was right.
“How safe is it for us to be here?”
“Not,” Basira stood and walked to the window, shoes loud in the silent room. “The police I’ve managed to get away from the archives, nothing much for them to do. But they were never really the biggest threat,”
“No, don’t suppose they were. Daisy’s still…”
“Yes,” Basira replied curtly.
“Sorry Basira, if I could help-”
“You can’t,” She turned away from him, toward the hall. “If you’re here now, I’ll be going. I’m very busy,”
And she walked stiffly out of the ward.
Martin sighed, but really she was being more considerate than he’d thought she might be. Clearly she’d stayed the night, and there was comfort in knowing Jon hadn’t been alone, even if he wouldn’t have been able to tell.
There was nothing left to do but sit and wait for Jon to start to wake up.