Archive of Our Own

Clothing is odd, Grian has come to find. It’s easy to forget about a piece of clothing until it’s forced right in front of your eyes, and you’re reminded of its existence. It could sit and collect dust in your closet for years without your noticing, as you wear different things and never think back to it. 

But as easy as it is to forget, clothing is just as easy to remember. The sight of it is more than enough to cause a flooding of memories once associated with said article of clothing. 

In the near year that Grian has spent with Scar and Mumbo, he has forgotten about the purple robes his body once donned. He had forgotten the way the fabric never properly sat on him, always itchy and uncomfortable. He had forgotten the color, how it was muted and dark, but most importantly he had forgotten the memories he had come to associate it with. It was surprisingly easy to forget about the robes when the only color he’s known is red. 

He’s come to love the color red. 

Except for now it is a color he must leave behind, as he removes his red jumper. He feels far too naked without it, even as he pulls the purple robes over his head. Already his skin feels tight, uncomfortable. Memories flood his mind as he slips his arms through the sleeves, body already beginning to feel heavier as the robes sit on him. They feel like chains, wrapping tight around him and trapping him in a body he does not know. 

He already aches for his jumper, for the new self he’s grown into. 

The robes feel uncomfortable on him, like a shirt that’s too big. They feel heavy as if they were made from lead, dragging him down. It’s familiar in a way that sends painful aches throughout his body, making him tense and ready to snap at any moment should he need to. The robes hang on his frame awkwardly, no longer fit to his person. It’s awkward, not quite right. It fits him like a piece of clothing that he’s outgrown, even though the robes cover him properly. Grian already finds himself wishing for the familiar comfort of his jumper. Or even a shirt from Scar or Mumbo. Those were a bit large on him, but that was fine. 

Grian stares into the mirror in front of him, looking at his red eyes. He lifts his hands, reaching for his eyes. His movements are full of hesitation, as he stares at the mirror. He drinks in the sight of those red irises staring back at him, knowing that it will be a bit of time before he sees them again. He tries to memorize his face, the way the red compliments him. 

When he feels ready, he reaches for one of his eyes and feels around for the contact sitting inside. He grabs it carefully, removing it. He repeats the process with his other eye and puts them aside. He looks back to the mirror and finds someone else looking back at him. 

Two bright purple eyes stare back at him, long ashen blond hair framing his face. Grian frowns softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. He takes a breath, reminding himself of who he’s doing this for. 

“Xelqua,” a voice says, and Grian turns around. Another member stands behind him, a blank white mask staring back at him. His frown deepens as he takes a breath. 

He may have cast his new identity, his new self aside for right now, but he will not give up his name. He is still Grian, and he will not forget that. 

In the Watcher’s hand is a mask. Grian feels his body tense at the sight of it, and as the mask is held out to him, he slaps it away. “No,” he growls, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare, “No mask.” 

He tenses, ready to fight if he has to. Yet the Watcher simply nods in response, not fighting him on it. It makes Grian relax slightly, muscles loosening up just a bit. He’s tightly wound like a spring, the threat of snapping looming over him. 

Without saying another word to him, they turn around and walk out of the room. Grian takes a shaky inhale, clenching his fists. To protect Scar and Mumbo, he reminds himself before following them. 

The halls are dark stone walls, with purple cloths draped from the ceiling. Candles sit on the walls, offering some source of light. A few doors line the walls, leading to different rooms. The one on the left leads to the big hall they’d all gather in to eat, and the one up ahead was a room they were restricted from entering. 

The walk through their compound brings an overwhelming amount of emotions. Grian wants to run off and get far from this place. He wants to run from the memories of younger versions of himself and Pearl stealing from the kitchen, or sneaking into places they weren’t allowed. He walks by a room in the hallway that makes his back ache. He wants to destroy it all, to make them regret bringing him back here. He wants to make them beg for mercy as he destroys everything they stand for. As he dismantles every single lie they ever told him and everyone else. 

They pass by people, people that Grian had grown up with. He hears whispers and murmurs of his return, and though most faces are hidden by masks, he can feel their eyes on him. He can hear the shock in their voices; some sound pleased, others do not. Grian tries his best not to mind them, digging his nails into his palms. The pain is helpful in grounding him, getting him out of his head. 

When they stop before the doors at the very end of the hallway, Grian doesn’t have to ask why they’re here, already fully aware of why. 

The doors open, and Grian stands before the Grand Hall. The hall is large, with tall pillars that form arches beneath the ceiling. There are no windows in The Grand Hall, no source of natural light from the outside. Candles line the walls, providing some light for everyone. Two chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling, adding to the artificial light in the room. None of the light is warm. The chandeliers are a rather weak imitation of the sun. 

Grian lifts his gaze from the wooden floor to ahead of him, finding five people standing in specific spots on the floor. Each of them are dressed in similar robes as Grian, though theirs are lighter in color. None of them wear masks, purple eyes on display for the world to see. 

For the first time, Grian enters the room feeling like he is on the same level as them. He finally has something more than what they’ve “given” him. He has a home, a real one. He has become more than the identity they took from him. He has reached out and forcibly taken his name back, his person, his whole.  

Even if he can’t trust his feelings or how he ended up with Scar, he knows he can trust his identity, the very essence of who he is as a person. 

He sees Helen standing among them, a pleased little smile on her face. Grian clenches his fists beneath his sleeves. 

“You may leave him,” one of the elders speaks. Grian’s eyes immediately flicker over to him, looking at him. He’s older, probably the eldest out of all of them, with wrinkles and his graying hairs. Elder Silas, if he remembers correctly. 

Even if the command is not meant for Grian, his skin crawls, little pinpricks rippling along his arms. 

The Watcher bows their head and leaves. Grian desperately wants to follow. But he’s made his choice. It’s too late to turn back now. Elder Silas directs his gaze on Grian, and a shot of fear runs down Grian’s spine like electricity. “Xelqua,” he says, voice echoing loudly in the hall. “Come forward, child.”

He forces himself to keep his expression neutral, carefully stoic as he comes to stand in front of them. He holds their gaze the entire time, not once looking away, even as his insides twist and curdle with anxiety. 

“Bow,” Silas commands, and Grian hesitates. 

He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to bow before such horrible people. He does not want to give them a respect they have not earned. He thinks of the lies they told him, of how they made him believe for years that Pearl’s death was his fault. They made him into something dangerous, something sharp and full of rough edges. 

They do not deserve to be bowed to. 

Elder Silas’ eyes narrow as he stares at Grian, “Bow, Xelqua.” There’s a note of warning in his voice that forces Grian’s heart to speed up, sounding loudly in his ears. He’s heard that tone of voice many times before, and he knows what may follow should he argue. He is not here for arguments today. He is here with a purpose. He swallows thickly, and forces himself to drop. 

“I see your time away has served you well,” one of the other elders says, sounding pleased. 

Grian grits his teeth so tightly that his jaw hurts. For Scar and Mumbo, it’s quickly becoming a mantra. 

“He’s certainly mellowed out, hasn’t he?” Helen coos. 

“He has… yes,” Elder Silas agrees, nodding his head as he glances at her. He looks back to Grian, “You must forgive our surprise that you are here, Xelqua. When we were told of your progress… it was quite the shocking news. You’ve always been the rebellious one. Tell us, how has your infiltration of the mayor’s inner circle gone?” 

Taking a breath, Grian prepares himself. He had struggled with this decision for days, trying to determine if he could sell the lie to himself. He had been teetering on the edge of indecision, attempting to find any other solution but this one. 

And then that damned note came in. And he knew his choice was made. 

“They aren’t aware of a thing,” Grian starts, digging his nails into his palms once again. He isn’t sure when his hands loosened, but he clenches them once again. He pointedly avoids Helen’s gaze, lest he see that self satisfied smile on her face. “They trust me.” And I will not betray that trust.

“Good,” Elder Silas hums, nodding. “With you here, we can begin the next stage of our plan. The mayor must be removed,” he declares. 

“I’ll deal with it,” Grian says quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. Elder Silas lifts a brow at him, as do some of the others. He hurries to continue, bracing himself, “Your message was enough. You got me here, didn’t you?” His gaze narrows at the five, “Let me handle Scar and Mumbo. My way.” 

Silence fills the room, and there’s an old fear that creeps up his spine. He worries that he’s spoken out of turn; he hasn’t forgotten how easy it is to anger the elders. 

And despite this, Grian keeps his gaze steady. His heart pounds in his ears, something loud and steady. He wonders if anyone else can hear it. He forces his back to stay straight, chest proud. He will not show any further weakness to them. It is not theirs to see. It is not theirs. 

“I see you have not changed all that much, Xelqua. That fire of yours still burns quite brightly,” Elder Silas comments. “Fine. We shall allow you to do as you please with the mayor. Continue to gather information, for the day One appears before us all is soon. We must prepare.” 

Grian swallows thickly and nods. 

(When he leaves that room and returns to his red jumper, he nearly collapses. He gasps roughly, eyes filling with tears. His body shakes as the fear threatens to overwhelm him. He has to hold himself as he’s come to do after many nights of waking up from nightmares. He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his tears silent. 

He did. He really did it. He faced them. He faced them and he doesn’t think he lost a part of himself in the process. He still feels whole. He still feels like himself, like Grian. He knows he can do this again.

For Scar and Mumbo.)

Mumbo is quiet as he curls into Scar’s side. They’re seated in the living room, some random movie that neither knows the plot of playing in the background. Scar had been mindlessly flicking through the channels of the T.V. until they landed on something random. The lights are set low, take out boxes on the table in front of them. 

It’s quiet. 

Scar’s hand combs through Mumbo’s hair in a soothing motion, a soft off tune humming accompanying the movements. He glances over to Mumbo, green eyes soft and full of fondness for the man beside him. There are faint bruising circles under his eyes. His exhaustion goes further than physical. It creeps into something mental, as if the fog of exhaustion has wrapped itself around his brain, stubborn to remain. No matter how much Scar sleeps, the exhaustion just doesn’t leave. 

Mumbo looks as tired as he does, maybe even more so. Scar doesn’t blame him. 

He presses a kiss to Mumbo’s head, lingering there for a moment so that he can take in the faint scent of raspberries and metal. It’s a scent Scar has grown up with, and it has become a comfort he can’t live without. 

Mumbo shifts slightly against him, adjusting the way his head rests on Scar’s shoulder. Scar chuckles softly, “Comfortable?”

“Quite,” Mumbo hums in return. 

Scar nods in return, pleased. He continues running through Mumbo’s hair, a pleasant atmosphere forming around them. His thoughts trail away from him, as he thinks about the second body of warmth currently missing from their side. He frowns, feeling that familiar worry that seems to accompany his thoughts of Grian as of late. 

Mumbo seems to notice his frown, reaching out to tangle their fingers together. “I know that look,” he says gently, “Crystal for your thoughts?” 

Scar turns to him with a bit of surprise on his face. His frown smoothens into something softer, the lines of worry easing up. A small smile forms on his face, a gleeful gleam in his eyes, “Mumbo Jumbo you sly, sly man! I always knew you had it in you!” 

A little laugh leaves Mumbo in return. He sounds a bit flustered as he speaks, “Well ah, I had a rather good teacher.” 

Scar grins in return, wiggling his brow, “A good teacher you say? He must have been handsome, and full of amayzin’ advice to share! A true connoisseur of business!”

“Oh, he’s very handsome, actually. Very aesthetically pleasing to look at.” Mumbo passes Scar a playful smile, “Though his business practices were questionable at best.”

“I’ll have you know my business practices were incredibly fair!” Scar exclaims, pitch rising in his defense. It makes Mumbo burst into chuckles in response. “There was nothing questionable about Magical Mountain!”

“Scar it wasn’t even on a mountain!”

“It’s about the image Mumbo, the image!” 

“What image, you were in high school!” 

Together, the two of them fall into a fit of laughter. Mumbo collapses right into Scar, feeling his chest rumble with laughter. His own chest shakes as his cheeks ache. 

As his laughter dies down, Mumbo switches to circling his thumb on the back of Scar’s hand, a pleased sound coming from him. The smile on his face softens as the moment fades, becoming something smaller, more sober than before. “He’s not home yet,” he mumbles after a moment.

Scar hums in return, “No. No he is not.” His voice is softer as he speaks this time, a hint of understanding in it. 

“I don’t want to believe what Martyn said. A-About him still being under their thumb,” Mumbo quietly admits. “He wouldn’t…” his voice is weak as he speaks, and he doesn’t continue. He clears his throat, “He wouldn’t come here under the notion of killing you for them.” 

“Bit of a jump there, isn’t it?” Scar questions, though not unkindly or accusatory. It’s almost funny how adamantly Mumbo fights for Grian’s innocence. When they first met, he was convinced Grian was a spy for Dogwarts. It was like pulling teeth when getting the pair to work together. 

But what if Mumbo wasn’t entirely wrong? Grian just wasn’t working for Dogwarts…

“In this line of life you have to jump,” Mumbo answers. “You heard Martyn, The Watchers want you dead, Scar. They might have sent Grian here to do just that.” 

“If Grian is working for them.”

“If he is,” Mumbo repeats. He falls quiet for a moment. “Do you? Think he is?” 

Pursing his lips, Scar considers the thought. He hums, tilting his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. Mumbo is a warm, solid weight against him. As he’s always been. He squeezes his hand. “You know Mumbo, wording is everything,” he says. “Words have power and all that.”

“Scar.” Mumbo frowns. 

“I’m getting there,” Scar chuckles dryly, something void of any real joy, “Do I want to believe that Grian is on our side and has been since the beginning? Of course. Every man wants to believe one of the loves of his life is faithful. But a man also has to consider the possibility that that love of his isn’t.” 

Mumbo lifts his head from Scar’s shoulder, picking himself up. Their hands are still connected, fingers laced together. He sets his arm on top of the back of the couch, propping his head up so he can look at Scar properly. “You’re torn.” It isn’t a question. It is an observation, a statement. It is Mumbo peering into Scar’s soul through the door he left open and reading out what he finds. 

When Scar smiles at him, it is somber. It is weak. It does not light up his face. “Aren’t you?” 

Mumbo bites his lip, unable to form a proper and true response. 

Both of them want to believe in Grian’s innocence. Of course they do. But they’ve lived through too much, they’ve seen far too much, to believe in simple comforts such as hope and naivety. Their world is a dark and cruel one. 

Scar sighs softly, bringing Mumbo’s hand up to his lips. He presses a few kisses to his palm, light and gentle. “That aside, how’re you doing up here, my lovely moon?” He taps his temple. 

For a moment, Mumbo considers lying. But he told himself that he’d stop lying to Scar. He’s never liked keeping secrets from the man, and his feelings were the most difficult to hide. For years he went lying, and looking back he saw the distance it put between them. That was the hardest part. And when he and Scar finally talked about their feelings, it felt so liberating. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. 

He promised both himself and Scar honesty, sincerity, moving forward. 

But that also requires him to ask himself how he’s been doing. A question he’s been very purposefully ignoring. 

And the answer isn’t good. Ever since they got that note he’s been worried, concerned that he’s going to get another note with more of his sins laid out for him clearly to see. He feels like he’s being watched, like whatever privacy he thought he had doesn’t exist anymore. 

The nightmares have been relentless, he’s been throwing himself more and more into whatever jobs Scar can scrounge up for him. They’re a good distraction for him, an easy way to keep himself focused on other things. 

“A bit pants, if I’m honest,” Mumbo eventually answers, slow and deliberate. His free hand tangles in his hair. “I’m angry, I’m upset. I feel like I’m being watched at every corner, and I can’t trust the people around me because they might know. We don’t know who sent that note, or what they want from me. Is it some kind of warning? A message?” he asks, feeling an odd kind of fear wash over him. It’s something he hasn’t felt since he was younger. The fear is like an old friend, poking its head in and reminding him that it still exists. It never left. It simply changed and adapted to survive. 

It’s like that note had unraveled all of the careful packaging that Mumbo had done over the years. Everything he had been through had been sorted, set down in boxes and shut away. Out of sight out of mind. He never had time to sort through it all. He had a job to do for Scar, and he wasn’t going to let his own things get in the way. 

But receiving that note unlocked it all. Like a key being slid into a lock, the box opened and it all came pouring out. 

“I think most of all I’m tired,” Mumbo admits to him, a quiet sort of confession. “Dealing with the consequences of that note is rather exhausting.”

“We’re going to get to the bottom of it, love,” Scar promises him. “And as soon as we do, I have a few choice words for our mysterious messenger.” His voice carries a dark undertone, one that sends pinpricks down Mumbo’s spine. “But that’s for the future,” he hums, waving his hand dismissively. “For now, I say we just relax and enjoy the rest of whatever movie is playing!”

Despite the exhaustion he feels, Mumbo chuckles softly. “I think it’s a bit too late to enjoy the movie, Scar. The end credits are rolling.”

“What?!” Scar looks over to the television just to see the mentioned credits moving on the screen. “Aw man! I was curious about this one too!” he whines, making Mumbo chuckle again. 

“And now it’s lost to the television channels, never to be seen again,” he jokes.

“Truly a shame!” Scar replies. “May you be remembered for the wonderful background noise you provided us,” he bows his head to the television before looking at Mumbo with a grin. “Let me go grab a nice fluffy blanket from the bedroom and then we’re going to settle in and find a new movie to actually watch this time!” 

He doesn’t give Mumbo a chance to argue as he jumps up from the couch, temporarily leaving him. 

When he’s out of Mumbo’s sight, he lets his shoulders drop. His exhaustion hits him like a sack of sand, threatening to knock him over. He hates seeing Mumbo like this, so visibly shaken and bothered by something that he can’t easily fix. And Grian… he sighs, a small frown tugging at his lips. He’s never felt so useless before, even on his seat of power. What good does being the most powerful man in Aqua Town do him if he can’t help the men he loves? 

Scar’s feet lead him to their bedroom, and he hums quietly. His eyes scan the room for the fluffy blanket he mentioned to Mumbo, finding it easily. It’s thrown haphazardly on their bed. The blanket is fluffy and black in color. It’s large enough to cover three people without trouble, and it’s a very warm blanket for cold winter nights. Scar’s had the blanket for forever, it was a gift from Bdubs a few years ago. 

He grabs the blanket and rolls it up in his arms, holding it close to his chest. It’s a bit hard to see the ground with a big blanket in his arms obscuring his vision. Scar tries to take a few careful steps, yet he manages to catch his foot in something on the ground. He yells out in shock, nearly toppling over before managing to catch himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground a step ahead. 

With a small frown, he turns back to see what he tripped over. 

It’s a pair of pants. 

Laughing to himself, Scar sets the blanket down to grab the pants, holding them up in the air. They’re a familiar gray color, and Scar knows exactly whose pair of pants they belong to. “Oh Grian you little rascal,” he laughs, moving to fold the pants up. “You still find a way to be pesky even when you’re not around.”

As he folds the pants up, something falls to the floor. 

Scar blinks as he watches it flutter to the ground. “What’s this?” he questions, putting the now folded pants on the bed. Bending down, Scar moves to pick up the fallen note. The paper in his hand is crumbled up, creases having made homes within the material. It looks like it’s been folded a few times, worn down from the folds. He opens the note up and something falls out of it. He startles, but catches it quickly and his breath hitches. 

It’s the photograph of Amy Forger’s death. The one that had been sent to Mumbo. 

Lips dipping in a frown, Scar holds it in his other hand. He glances at the note, finding the bold words that had so thoroughly shaken Mumbo. He looks over at the photograph, and turns it over in his hands. The back is blank, or so he thinks. 

Upon a close inspection, there’s something that catches his eye. 

A very familiar symbol is on the back and the sight of it sends Scar’s stomach lurching. He’s seen this symbol before, painted on the walls of his city and on the cover of a book he’s held in his hands. 

It’s The Watcher’s symbol. 

Scar lets himself stare at it for a few moments longer, as if trying to connect mental dots in his mind. This fell out of the pants, a pair of pants that belongs to Grian. Why? He looks over at the pants he had placed on the bed merely moments ago, a sour feeling twisting in his gut. He swallows thickly, staring at the papers in his hands. 

Why was Grian hiding this from them? Was it something intentional? Purposeful? Did he not want him and Mumbo to see this? Or was it an accident? Something he hadn’t meant to do? 

No, Scar knows that Mumbo had mentioned the note disappearing the following day. It had sent him into a panic, the idea of someone else finding it. 

The note had never turned up.

Scar has a terrible, horrible feeling. 

Forgetting about the blanket entirely, Scar walks back into the living room. Mumbo perks up as Scar enters, “Did you get the blanket?” 

“The Watchers sent the note,” Scar says, and Mumbo freezes. 

“What?” he asks, sounding a little hoarse. He sits up a little straighter on the couch, a look of fear crossing his eyes. “Scar, what are you talking about?” 

He walks over to him, turning the photo around so Mumbo can see the back. He holds it out to the man, and Mumbo takes it. “Their symbol is on the back. This was a message from them.” 

Color drains from Mumbo’s face as he stares at the symbol, making the same connections that Scar did. “They sent this as a warning, then,” he says, and Scar grimly nods. “Where did you even find this? I thought it disappeared after…” Mumbo trails off, lifting his gaze from the photo to stare at Scar. 

Scar opens his mouth, but hesitates on the answer. Saying the words makes them real. And saying this to Mumbo is going to make it all real. This isn’t just going to be a fear that keeps him up at night anymore. This is going to become reality. A reality that Scar will have to force himself to live in. 

Call him a coward, but he almost doesn’t want to say it. 

“Scar,” Mumbo gently pushes him, “Where did you find it?”

He takes a breath, prepares himself. Once these words are out, he can’t take them back. 

“It fell out of Grian’s pocket,” Scar answers him, voice tense. “Mumbo, I think he was hiding it from us.”

Falling quiet for a moment, Mumbo doesn’t answer. He stares at Scar, looks at his face. He searches for any kind of lie, any hint of deceit. He holds his breath, waiting for Scar to crack a grin and tell him it’s a joke. Except it doesn’t come. Scar does not smile. There is no hint of humor in his gaze, nothing soft or cheerful. 

There’s an implication in the way Scar says it, one that leaves Mumbo fearing for the worst. Dread pools in his gut, leaking away much like water spilling from a pipe. He clenches the photo in his hand, “What are you trying to say, Scar?” 

A dark expression falls over Scar’s face, green eyes losing that light shine. They darken, filling with foreboding and a hint of despair. “I don’t think we can keep avoiding it any longer,” he slowly says, “Maybe Grian really isn’t as loyal to us as we thought.”

Grian is checking a book out in the library within town hall when he gets a text from Scar. It causes him pause, not having expected it. It’s a simple message, one asking Grian to meet him in his office. Seeing no need to waste any time, Grian grabs his book and heads upstairs. 

When he reaches Scar’s office, he finds Mumbo already sitting inside. “‘Ello,” Grian greets them cheerfully, offering them both smiles. Scar and Mumbo return them, though Grian can see the exhaustion on their faces. He doesn’t blame them – he’s in the same boat. 

“Did you find anything interesting in the library, songbird?” Scar inquires, leaning forward with interest. 

“Sure did! A rather helpful book on how to keep pesky mayors out of trouble,” Grian jokes, sitting himself down in the chair next to Mumbo’s. He looks over at Mumbo, “Wanna borrow it when I’m done?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Mumbo quickly nods, much to Scar’s displeasure. “We’ll have to make a secret book club for it as well, surely.” 

Grian grins, “Absolutely. No mayors allowed, either.” 

“Hey!” Scar whines playfully. “Can handsome boyfriends still come?” 

Humming, Grian pauses to consider it. He meets Mumbo’s eyes, seeing the man smile in amusement. “I don’t know, I think we’ve already met the club’s quota for handsome boyfriends. Right Mumbo?” He questions, and he watches gleefully as Mumbo’s cheeks turn pink. 

“O-Oh, uhm, yes, I believe so,” Mumbo stammers in response, and Scar huffs at them. 

“You two are evil, evil I say!” Scar cries, making both Grian and Mumbo burst into light laughter. Scar is grinning at them though, and for just a moment things feel lighter. Grian smiles, feeling a warmth tingling in his chest. He’s glad he’s able to provide some kind of reprieve, even if it’s short lived. 

“Okay, but seriously Scar, what did you call us here for?” Mumbo inquires, sounding a bit more serious than before. Grian quiets his laughter down to look over at Scar. 

It’s interesting to see the exact moment that Scar slips into his role as mayor. It’s a seamless transition, yet Grian can see it clearly. He sees it in the way his gaze sharpens, and his voice takes on a stronger quality, with a bit more bravado involved. His shoulders straighten, and he edges on something a bit more professional. 

“Well, it’s come to my attention that there’s been a lovely new shop that’s opened up right down the road,” Scar begins, a frown forming on his face. “Wonderful Bdubs went ahead and did some snooping for me, and it looks to me like this company has no pre-existing legal documentation in town.” 

Grian’s nose scrunches up, “So then how’d they even get a business up?” 

Scar points his pen at him, “That is the question, G! And that’s what I’d like for you both to find out for me. Mind doing a little… mayor encouraged breaking and entering?” He wiggles his brows, making Grian burst into chuckles, Mumbo joining him. 

“What?!” Scar exclaims, “What is it?!” 

“I-I’m sorry Scar, but the wiggling eyebrows really broke the moment!” Mumbo explains through laughter, and Scar pouts.

“I was selling the braking and entering! The eyebrows wiggling was intentional!” Scar cries, and Grian only laughs more. “Guys, come on!” 

“Alright, alright. We’ll help you by braking and entering,” Grian agrees, trying to force his chuckles down. He knows Scar won’t even notice the way he originally misspoke the word, and neither Mumbo or Grian will point it out to him. 

“I assume there’s something you want us to keep our eyes peeled for?” Mumbo inquires. 

“If you can find any sort of official documentation, that’d be amayzin’,” Scar answers. “Or maybe just anything related to illegal business practices. The sooner I can get these guys busted and in the hands of Xisuma, the better.” 

Grian nods in response. 

He misses the look that Scar and Mumbo share.

Walking side by side with Grian feels weird, Mumbo finds. Though doing anything with Grian is bound to feel weird after Scar found the note in his pocket. Mumbo still isn’t sure how to process any of it. 

The idea of Grian not being loyal to them… well, it kills Mumbo. Because that’s all he’s ever known Grian to be. The man has stubbornly stayed by Scar’s side from the very start, even as Mumbo attacked him from all sides. He even went back at Mumbo, determined to prove himself as loyal, to prove that he’d never betray Scar. And somewhere along the way, Mumbo began to believe him too. 

Both Mumbo and Scar know Grian to be fiercely loyal. They’ve never once questioned him, never once has their faith in Grian wavered. 

So what changed? Why is it now that Mumbo is suddenly hesitating on Grian’s innocence? Why does he feel so torn? 

(“Maybe Grian really isn’t as loyal to us as we thought.” Scar had said. 

“Scar, are you hearing yourself right now?” Mumbo asked. “This is Grian we’re talking about! Surely – surely there’s a reasonable explanation for this!” 

“Mumbo–” Scar reached out to him, but Mumbo stepped back, wildly shaking his head.

“He wouldn’t, Scar! He wouldn’t!”)

Even now, the words feel hollow to Mumbo. They feel like a lie that Mumbo is desperately clinging to so that he doesn’t drown. Because if Grian has been a spy this entire time, then Mumbo doesn’t know what’s real from him and what isn’t. How much of Grian’s mind was poisoned by The Watchers? What can Mumbo believe? Can he continue to trust Grian when he says he’ll keep Scar safe, when the people that molded him are trying to kill that very man? 

Even as Grian walks with him, hand in his, Mumbo still doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to hope that Grian is far from The Watchers, completely isolated from their influence and free to live as he pleases. 

But Mumbo is not stupid (despite what he may say of himself at times). Even if his heart is desperate to believe in Grian’s innocence, his mind says a different story. 

It kills him. He hates feeling so torn, watching as Scar slowly makes up his mind. 

“We’re here,” Grian says, the sound of his voice breaking Mumbo from his thoughts. 

They stand in front of the building, finding that it’s a small coffee shop. Staring up at it with growing perplexity, Mumbo blinks, “This isn’t… is this the right spot?” He turns to Grian to ask. 

Grian looks just as confused as he does, “This is the Genesis Beta Scar was talking about? A coffee shop?” His tone rises with his disbelief. 

“What an odd name…” Mumbo trails off, and Grian snorts.  

“Check out their slogan on the window,” he says, pointing over to the glass. 

Following his finger, Mumbo looks at the glass. He squints as he reads it out, “Reenergized? More like reborn– I’m sorry but that is a horrible slogan,” he comments. 

Grian nods in agreement, “I bet Martyn could come up with something much better.” Mumbo looks at him oddly for that one, and Grian stares back, “What? It feels like something he’d do!” 

Shaking his head, Mumbo sighs, “Let’s just find a way in and get this over with.” He stares up at the building in front of them. The coffee shop looks like any other typical shop, with large windows in the front, a sign above the door. There’s a small striped overhang on the side of the building, along with a bench or two. The shop looks small and cozy, something completely inconspicuous to any random passersby, with the way it’s squeezed in between two other stores.

Nodding in agreement, Grian motions that he’ll be back before sneaking off. Now standing alone, Mumbo looks around, actively searching for any security cameras. The coast looks relatively clear, and it doesn’t surprise Mumbo that there aren’t any security cameras around. If the building isn’t exactly legal, no need for security. 

They’ve gone in the middle of the night, picking a relatively late time so they avoid getting caught. Most people in Aqua Town are asleep, with the exception of their underground population of course. Those who lurk within the shadows of night never do quite sleep. 

Grian comes back after a moment, heading over to Mumbo’s side, “I found a back door we can get in through.” 

“Oh! Great, let’s use that,” Mumbo hums, and he lets Grian take him by the hand to lead him. The pair make their way to the back of the building, and Grian grabs a bobby pin from his hair. He leans down to get the door open, Mumbo watching him. 

It doesn’t take Grian very long to get the lock open and when the door unlocks, he gets it with a small “aha!” He straightens up and pushes the door fully open, looking at Mumbo with a grin, he gestures for Mumbo to go first, “After you, kind sir.”

“How kind,” Mumbo chuckles before stepping inside. 

Grian goes in after him, the door shutting behind him. Together, the pair walk further inside, looking around. The back door led them in by the backrooms, and Mumbo figures it’s the best place to start looking for anything. He doubts there’d be anything important at the front of the store beside the cash registers. 

Just a peek around the corner lets Mumbo see chairs flipped upside down and set on the few tables in the main area. They need to look somewhere more private to the business. 

Grian seems to reach the same conclusion as he does, “Should we start here?” 

“Probably a good idea,” Mumbo agrees, nodding. 

Doing a bit of exploring, Mumbo finds the space where the shop keeps all of their supplies. There’s a whole shelf of boxes lining the wall, each labeled with different things. He spots a box labeled “coffee beans”, and one labeled “croissants”. Ah, so just supplies them. 

Mumbo doesn’t waste much time with all of the boxes, doubting that any responsible store owner would have important documents in the same place as where food is stored. 

“Mumbo!” Grian calls for him, and Mumbo heads over to the sound of his voice. It brings him out from where they came in from, by the counter. He looks to the right, seeing Grian down a small hallway. He’s standing in the doorway of a room, and Mumbo comes over. 

“What?” Mumbo questions, and Grian gestures for him to take a look. He looks inside the room, finding an office. 

Grian grins, pride written all over his face, “Think we’ll find anything in here?” 

Mumbo returns his smile, “We just might.”  

The two step inside the office, and Mumbo immediately goes for the cabinets against the walls. Grian flops down on the plush chair at the desk, spinning himself around as he goes through the desk drawers. He makes a curious noise or two, as Mumbo starts digging through manilla files. 

The first few papers are simply coffee recipes, nothing nefarious or illegal. Though this drawer seems to have a concerning amount of recipes in it. Don’t businesses usually have more than just that? Where’s all the er… businessey type stuff?

Mumbo hears a grumble from Grian as the chair squeaks, making him turn his attention away from the papers for a moment. An amused smile forms on his face, “Having fun there, dear?”

“An absolute blast,” Grian replies sarcastically, pulling one of the lower drawers open. “Man, who needs this many drawers? How much paper do you need?” he questions, making a face. “Think of the trees!” 

Mumbo snorts, “I don’t think any business is thinking about the trees, bud.” He grabs a paper that might look promising, only to skim the title and sigh. Another recipe. 

“Well clearly not!” Grian retorts, beginning to sort papers on the desk. He pulls a few off the top, reading through a few. “So far I’m not finding squat diddly, you?” 

Huffing, Mumbo gleams through a few more pages, “That’s going to be a big no from me.” 

Grian pushes himself away from the desk with a loud exhale, the wheels of the chair sliding against the floor. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m still sort of shocked,” Grian mumbles in response, “And maybe a bit disappointed.” 

Mumbo sighs in agreement, looking through a few more papers before going to the next drawer, “All I’ve been finding are recipes! Goodness, how many recipes do you need?!” he cries.

“I think you mean corporate secrets, as Scar says,” Grian hums, standing up from the chair. He moves over to one of the other cabinets, beginning to look through a drawer as well. 

A silence settles over them as they search through the office together, the only sounds being the flicking of papers. Mumbo’s eyes are beginning to hurt from all of the words he’s been reading. 

He isn’t sure how long they do this for (considering they have to be thorough, it could have at least been an hour), when Grian huffs. 

“This is so boring!” he cries, groaning in frustration. He steps away from the cabinet, beginning to pace around the room instead. “If I were the head of some shady business, I’d hide my stuff somewhere secret. Like a side room or a safe!” 

Mumbo regards him with a raised brow, “We’re supposed to be looking for something legal, remember?” 

“Well if we haven’t found anything by now, then obviously this place is illegal! We would’ve found the paperwork by now!” Grian replies, turning his gaze away from Mumbo to look around the office instead. 

“I suppose you have a point there,” Mumbo sighs, stepping away from the drawer. He shuts it, turning to look at Grian. “So what’s the plan now? Continue searching or call it a night?” he questions. 

“Maybe there’s some secret side room we haven’t found yet,” Grian replies, spotting a door near the desk. “Like that one!” He points at it, bringing Mumbo’s attention to it as well.

The door isn’t all that noticeable, with the way the color blends in with the wall. Mumbo hadn’t even noticed it when they first entered the room. He turns his attention to a new drawer as Grian walks over to it. 

“How much do you want to bet there’ll be a whole bunch of illegal stuff behind this door?” Grian looks over at Mumbo with a smirk, making Mumbo chuckle softly. 

“Go on then mate,” he hums, nodding. “I’ll just be over here with my drawer. Of more recipes.” 

Grian laughs at that, grabbing the door knob. He opens the door, “I swear if there’s more recipes in here I’ll—” 

Noticing the way Grian cuts himself off, Mumbo lifts his head up. Grian is standing in the doorway, his back to Mumbo. “Grian?” he questions, feeling worried. He seems to be frozen in the doorway, unmoving. “What is it?” 

Growing more concerned with Grian’s silence, he walks over, coming up from behind. Although Grian doesn’t move, Mumbo is able to peek inside to see what’s so thoroughly frozen him. 

His heart freezes at what he sees. 

The room is relatively empty with the exception of a smaller desk and another cabinet. But that isn’t what catches his attention. It’s what’s up on the wall. 

Directly behind the desk, on the far back wall is a large banner. It’s dark in color, a sort of royal purple. The banner is completely blank with the exception of the large rectangle in the middle. The Watchers symbol. 

Mumbo’s hand tightens on the doorframe, anger ripping through him. So Scar was right. Genesis Beta is related to them, then. Though with the banner hanging up, Mumbo feels confident in assuming that this operation is The Watchers. Does that make this place a front, then? For what? 

He opens his mouth to speak when Grian makes a noise before a loud slam of the door follows it. Mumbo jumps in surprise before his concern immediately flickers to Grian, gazing at him. He goes to reach out to him, about to set a hand on his shoulder. Griam whirls around before he can, and Mumbo gets a good look at his face. 

There’s shock in his eyes, as well as a bit of horror. Grian looks upset, maybe even a bit panicked. He’s obviously been caught off guard. Mumbo doesn’t touch him just yet, keeping his hand in the air. “Gri, dove, breathe,” he says gently, already seeing the way that Grian’s shoulders are hiking up. 

“I-I’m fine,” Grian stammers in reply, taking a few deep breaths. 

Mumbo looks at him pleadingly, and slowly, Grian answers his silent question with a nod. With permission given, Mumbo sets his hand on Grian’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles against the fabric of his jumper. “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. 

Grian nods, taking a step forward so that he can shut the door behind him. Mumbo moves with him, but doesn’t pull away. Not yet.

“Mumbo…” Grian starts, swallowing thickly. “We can’t tell Scar.” 

“What?!” Mumbo exclaims, looking at Grian in surprise. “Judging by your reaction to that banner, I think it’s rather important to mention to Scar!” he declares, trying not to give too much away to Grian. He and Scar need Grian to think they’re still clueless about The Watchers, both to protect themselves and Grian. He just hopes Grian will buy his acting.

“No,” Grian says firmly, gazing at Mumbo with hard eyes. It nearly shocks Mumbo, causing him to do a double take. “You don’t– we just – we just can’t, Mumbo, okay? Knowing Scar he’s going to want to get involved and this is the one thing he can’t mess with. I can’t let him.”

Mumbo frowns in return, dropping his hand from Grian’s shoulder. “What are you hiding, Grian?” he questions, the words escaping him before he can think about their consequences. “What are you so afraid of?” 

Grian flinches in response, and Mumbo sees a flash of fear in his eyes. His expression twists, darkening slightly. He avoids Mumbo’s gaze entirely, and from their close proximity, he can feel how tense Grian is getting. He wants to reach out and take his hand, wants to hold it in his hands and kiss him until he isn’t afraid anymore. But Mumbo knows that isn’t something he’s allowed right now. “It’s… complicated, okay? I just – I just need you to trust me,” Grian pleads, meeting his eyes. 

Mumbo’s heart aches, but how can I? He wants to ask. Give me something. Give me a reason to believe you. Yet he does not ask. He keeps his thoughts private and nothing more. As much as Mumbo wants to pry and promise Grian that whatever it is, he’ll be safe, he knows there’s more at stake. There is real danger around the corner, and Mumbo can’t afford to let his feelings get the better of him. 

He makes a showing of giving in, a loud sigh escaping his lips, “Alright. We’ll tell Scar that we found some documents and leave it alone.”

Like a deflating balloon, Grian’s shoulders sag. “Thank you,” he murmurs, relief lacing each word he speaks. He then looks at Mumbo with a weak smile, “Let’s go home?” 

Despite the turmoil making a home inside Mumbo’s head, he returns Grian’s smile, “Let’s go home, yes.”

(Grian and Mumbo sell the lie to Scar, and when Grian leaves them to find Jellie, Mumbo pulls Scar aside. “Scar… I think you were right,” he says grimly, heart pounding nervously.

“Oh?” Scar looks over at him, a lopsided smile on his face. His tone is light, playful, “You’ll have to be more specific Mumbo! I happen to be right about quite a bit of things.”

Mumbo does not share his lightheartedness. His next words feel like a death sentence. “Grian is working with the Watchers.”)