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There was nothing romantic looking about the honeysuckle. Spiny and strange and attached to the stem. It didn't clog his throat the way the others had. The violets, the morning glories, even the anemone. The honeysuckle just scratched, but it was so much harder to breathe as he choked them out. Violently coughing and retching and struggling to inhale.
He caught a breath, and made his decision.
Martin's stomach rolled the whole way down the stairs, his breathing was shallow, his chest ached. The flowers must finally be taking root in his lungs. Finally suffocating him after months and years of choking. Down and down into the basement, down the hall and past the files to Jon's office. He didn't knock.
Jon cut off mid sentence. He didn't sound like himself, and Martin realized he'd been reading a statement even as Jon turned to him and abruptly declared "Martin!" He made no move to turn off the recorder though. Just as well. Martin hadn't told the tapes yet. If whatever was behind them didn't know already, it would find out with The Archivist.
"Hi, Jon." Martin said, weakly, shutting the door behind him.
"Martin what...what are you doing here?" Jon asked, concerned, rising from his desk. "I thought you said..."
"I know what I said." Martin interrupted. "But...I think..." He tried to take a breath, an old habit to steady himself. He choked on the breath and started coughing. The coughs shook his chest and he could feel the flowers rising in his throat. The familiar tickling of petals encouraging the harder cough, the painful shaking of his lungs leaving him leaning on the doorjam for balance.
Jon rushed to his side. "Martin? Martin are you alright? I'll get you some water..." he moved to reach behind Martin and open the door.
Martin caught Jon's arm and shifted his weight onto it. Jon stopped cold and looked at him. Martin sank under the weight of Jon's gaze. He could feel the other mans eyes even without meeting them and the coughing turned to weak, airless gags. Dimly, Martin could hear Jon's voice. His name, mostly. Jon's hand on his back was warm, almost feverishly so. He could feel the heat from Jon's touch through his jumper. Martin let go of the doorjam and covered his mouth just in time to hack out a handful of disconnected petals. He looked down at them, and groaned deeply.
.
Rose petals.
Another attempt to inhale failed, leaving Martin lightheaded, and Jon's words felt far away. So it was happening faster than he'd intended. That hadn't been the plan. He hadn't meant to die in Jon's arms. Just to tell him goodbye. This was all quite a bit more dramatic then he intended. Especially when he felt a few more petals lodge in the base of his throat and forced a hard cough to push them free. The effort was too much and his knee buckled. His weight was too much for Jon, who supported him just enough to make his fall natural, and guide him to the floor.
Jon fell with him, and sat beside him, and Martin had to physically pull the mostly intact spit-covered and bile-singed red rose from his mouth with his fingers. Once it was clear though, for a moment he could breathe. Small, shallow breaths that he took greedily. As his head began to clear, he could sense the worried question he hadn't quite heard. "I'm alright." he reassured weakly.
"No you're not." Jon admonished.
Martin managed a quiet laugh. "I'm not." he agreed.
Jon was holding his hand still. Still touching his back. Neither of those surprises were quite as surprising as the soft question "It's Hanahaki, isn't it?"
.
He took a moment to startle, which set off another cough, this one only took a moment. Just a couple petals that he coughed directly onto the floor. Still roses. He nodded quietly. Then "They were honeysuckles this morning."
Jon made a soft noise, then "It's gotten...this is really bad, isn't it?" Martin didn't answer, and Jon let go of his hand. Martin curled down, pressing reflexively into Jon's hand on his back, into his touch, even as he felt himself breaking at the awareness that Jon was pulling away from him. As he should. Being close to someone who was dying was too painful to ask of anyone.
Except then Jon caught hold of his jaw, tugging his face toward him, and looking him in the eye. "How long?" Jon demanded softly, a thread of power snaking out through the question that Martin could feel like a warm current in a cold lake.
"Since Prentiss." he answered. "They were violets when you first let me stay in the store room."
Jon seemed startled. "Why haven't you...done anything about it?"
He'd had a lie ready. He'd been prepared for this question. He hadn't been prepared to be asked it under the gaze of The Archivist. He hadn't been prepared to be forced into the truth. But then, Jon had always done that to him, hadn't he? And hadn't Jon always been kind about it once he knew? "It wasn't worth it." he said softly. "Even if I could afford it," he added, a nod to his prepared half-truth, "it wasn't worth the risk."
Jon glowered at him, eyes glistening. "You're an idiot, Martin." he growled softly.
"I know." Martin answered.
Then, all at once, the space between them was closed. Jon's lips were horribly chapped and rough and pressing too hard against Martin's, pinning them against his teeth and shifting slightly. Martin was stunned, but he leaned into it, parting his lips and pressing back. He was out of air in a matter of moments but held on as long as he could. Jon pulled back before he had to, and when Jon did, Martin just gasped "It only works if you love me."
Jon laughed. His voice cracked with the start of a sob and he breathed "Martin...Martin I've missed you. I've tried to reach out to you and I've tried to respect it when you told me no and I've tried...tried to believe you knew what was best and now, finding out it was literally killing you, when all I wanted was to be with you..."
That didn't add up at all. Martin blinked at him. "Since when?"
"Since I came back, at least." Jon answered. "Before then, probably." He barked a small laugh. "Maybe since I was confident you weren't trying to kill me? Maybe before. A long time, Martin." He leaned in again, but this time only rested their foreheads together, and breathed softly "I've loved you for a long time."
Martin couldn't think of a worse response to a deceleration of love than coughing in their face. So of course that's exactly what he did. Two coughs before he was able to pull away and cover his mouth. Jon made a noise somewhere between disgusted and amused so he could presume all was not lost. Especially because for the first time in months, the coughs felt different.
His chest shook and his entire body trembled. It felt like the end of a bad cold. Things rattled lose in his chest, but as he coughed, it disintegrated as it reached his throat. Jon wrapped an arm around his abdomen and held him tight and Martin leaned forward and rested his head on Jon's shoulder, and they stayed like that. Martin didn't know how long. Maybe only a minute or two, maybe hours. There on the floor of Jon's office, in Jon's arms, Jon's words ringing in his ears.
I've loved you for a long time
This was it then. The happy ending. The hanahaki would undo itself. Of course there were a million other problems. Other reasons he and Jon might not be able to be together, and even if they could, things that could tear them apart or worse at a moments notice. So much work left to do. But when the fit passed, Martin took his first clear breath in recent memory, and tears sprang to his eyes.
"Martin?" Jon breathed.
"I love you too." he breathed softly. Then he laughed a bit. "I think that did it."
"Good." Jon answered. "I...good." He held Martin for a long moment, then, softly "...what now?"
Martin considered this, then "Nothing's really changed. I have to go back."
"Martin -" Jon started, warningly, voice rising in anger.
"I have to." Martin interrupted. He looked Jon in the eye. Jon's eyes were wide, and dark, and Martin wanted to get lost in them. He had other places to go. "I have to know, Jon."
Jon nodded slightly. "But you still..."
"Of course." Martin interrupted. "That's...the nature of the disease. If I'd gotten over you it'd have been gone a long time ago."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Jon said softly. Then "Thank you for coming to me."
Martin offered a sad smile. "I was coming to say goodbye."
Jon nodded. "Well, now you don't have to." he considered. "Not yet, at least."
Martin nodded, and amended. "Not yet." he agreed.
They looked at each other for another long moment, and then kissed again.