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The ground was dry and cool, a sure sign of fall, like most new variations of this wretched hell island, Wilson decided. It almost always started in the fall, and then turned to winter, and spring, and then summer, before the 'year' passed. He wasn't sure how many actual years had passed, he'd lose track of the days before he hit three hundred and sixty five days.
So this world was fresh and new, most likely. He was the first one here. The others might end up here, if the little group they’d managed to keep together for a while didn’t end up doing what he did, dying with no safety net like a amulet or touchstone. He’d find them again eventually. Or not.
Wilson’s eyes traced over the ring on his left as he sat up, the gold band with a line of mosaic red through it. He hadn’t seen the matching ring, or owner in ten years, and he hadn’t felt a pulse through it in five. It’d been an experiment, he’d been trying to make a long distance communication system at first. That required magic, at least it did in this world, his attempts at a simple ham radio had failed miserably, despite the appearances of the divining rod. While he hadn’t gotten that to work, Wilson decided that designing something that would at least give him an idea of if his companions were alive was enough for the time. The rings were what came out of that, a pair of them.
He still hadn’t figured out that radio system, or the magical equivalent of it. But it didn’t feel that important since they all kept getting split up, especially… he looked away from the ring. It was a reminder, at least, the only thing he carried from world to world.
Maxwell had been with him, the day he’d made them. The design had been meant for a bracelet, but one red gem only made enough shards for one bracelet, and that was what was going to connect the prototypes together, one red gem. Theoretically, if it worked in the prototype, he could use multiple gems and make sure each one was in each bracelet. But that was if it even worked in the first place. So instead of a bracelet, he'd decided to try rings.
One chunk of gold, nightmare fuel, and a red gem. The same sort of things he’d use for a life amulet, and he'd been about to break the gem. Then his thought process was interrupted by Maxwell’s voice, and he’d almost whacked the gem into the dirt off of the alter.
“Think you could hurry up? It’s been a while since the last earthquake, and I’m not exactly keen on being here for a cave-in.”
The man had been sitting on a chunk of a broken thulcite wall, the medallion in his hand, and their lantern at his feet. “Maxwell, you have a miner’s hat, if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.” Wilson had looked at the gem, realizing that the shards would go everywhere if he didn’t contain it.
“And leave you down here all by your lonesome? Like I’d let that happen, pal.” He could hear footsteps as he emptied out his satchel, the hammer left on the alter. “Besides, I’m interested in seeing what you’ll create.”
“If you’re content with being my guinea pig, then fine, see what I care.” Wilson picked up the hammer, and turned, Maxwell only a few inches away. “But no complaining! That’s all you ever do down here.” He turned back to his work, gem going into the now empty bag.
“Fine, fine…” Honestly, if he was looking at him right now, he’d probably see Max rolling his eyes.
It was rather quiet as Max took a seat closer to the alter, apparently actually invested in his work, watching him break up the red gem.
It’d taken longer then he expected, really, when he looked at the two rings, finally finished. “Hey, Max.” He turned around to see him frowning, eyebrows raised in a question. “Try this on,” he raised up one of the two rings, “I need to see if it works.”
“Are you going to try to set me on fire?” Really, he should be insulted, but there was amusement in Maxwell’s voice and so he rolled his eyes instead of starting another petty fight, taking the extended hand offered.
“I would of just made one of your stupid gems on a stick if I wanted to do that, any catching on fire is a failure of my creation and not the intended result.” He slid the ring onto Max's finger, before turning back to the alter, sliding the other onto his left hand. “Have you been ‘set on fire’ yet?”
"It's... growing warm? Frankly, genius. A ring that barely will heat you up in the winter. Brilliance, my dear Higgsbury.” So was his own, really, and he couldn't tell if the line of gem shards was glittering in the light of the lantern, or it was illuminating itself. There was a faint pulse from it, somewhat… off. It seemed steady, then faltered, steady, then another falter.
“That’s not the purpose, Max. They’re suppose to link up, be a way to tell if someone’s alive…” Oh. It was a heartbeat. “Is yours beating?” He knew that pattern, it was the same as the heartbeat of the man sitting behind him.
“Is it a good thing or a bad thing if it is?” Wilson laughed and turned around, grabbing Max’s right hand, the one without the ring. “I’ll guess it’s a good thing?” There was bemusement as Wilson pulled the hand to his chest.
“They match, right?” Realization dawned on Maxwell’s face, and he nodded, pulling his hand away. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see if they work as intended, but let’s get out of here for now, I can work on designing something for everyone later.”
He never did get around to that. Things got busy, the world had new changes to discover and understand, they had escape to figure out.
Wilson gave it one last look before pulling the fingers of his gloves up to cover it. He didn’t have time to dwell on the past, to dwell on Max. He had to get going and prep for nightfall if he didn't want to advance to yet another world.
Had his lover changed since then? Ten years was a long time, even in this hellish place where their old sense of time meant nothing. He hoped it was for the better if he had, Max had certainly changed since their first face to face meeting. Stars, he wasn't even sure how long ago that was. It had certainly been a very long time.
He tried to shake off the thoughts. Even after so long, every new variation of this world had him hoping, that he’d feel an arrhythmic heartbeat through the ring. But he’d probably never catch up to him, the last time he’d felt it, he’d died searching.
It was dusk, hours later, a fresh satchel procured, and a supply of firewood for the night snugly inside, when he noticed the growing warmth on his hand. Pulling back the glove, there was a glimmer from the tiny line of gems.
Instead of any rational thought, Wilson put together two torches for emergency, in a very haphazard way, and began to run. It’d been so long, too long, that the mere glimmer of hope made it easier to keep going, dodging spiders as they started to wake up in the dusk. It couldn’t lead him to the matching ring, but it was getting dark, and the long tuffs of grass were rare, except in one place he’d found so far.
The plains.
The sun was almost gone when he saw a lanky silhouette standing from a kneeling position.
Frankly, it was the nicest thing he’d seen in a very long time. “Max!” At least he was loud enough to be heard from across the field. “You stupid, ridiculous, egotistical doofus!” Okay, not the nicest greeting, but that was standard, it was just their thing, and Wilson fell back into it with comfortable ease. Wilson hoped there was the same sort of disbelief on Max’s face that he’d guess was on his as he jogged over to him.
Finally. After so damned long…
Well, tackling him in a hug was reserved enough.
“I…” Oh, that was exactly what he wanted to hear. Disbelief and wonderment. “Aren’t you being rather rude, Wilson?” Or not. There was the old mask coming back up.
“Oh, was I suppose to do this first?” A hand to the back of Max’s head, pulling the other down so he could wrap the free arm around his lower back and keep him close, just for a kiss.
More then one, really. For once, Wilson was the one looking smug as he pulled back. “Happier now?” Maxwell actually looking starstruck was rather delightful, but a glance over the other man’s shoulder certainly ruined the moment. The sun was about to set on them. He backed away to sling off his satchel, they needed a fire, unless they wanted to lose one another again.
He didn’t want to wait another ten years, a few moments of their reunion could be spared for that.
Maxwell had enough sense to back off until the fire was started, and before anything else could be said, Wilson felt arms around him, a head on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you.” It was quiet, and tired, and was there really anything else to define this. Ten years of missing one another. Ten years apart.
“Missed you too, Max.” Maybe they’d manage to keep everything together this time. They certainly had all the time in the world.