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Martin couldn’t believe it. His anchor idea actually worked. Why would his rib draw him out of that horrible thing when the tapes were more of himself than his own body was at this point?
“Martin?” Jon looked like he had been in that coffin for decades. Dirt coated his hair and fingernails. It was like looking at a human dust bunny. Daisy looked the same, but Martin’s focus was on Jon. He had scratches all over, and honestly just looked really terrible.
“What the hell were you thinking Jon?! I mean, are you- are you both okay? Daisy I’m so sorry are you, are you alright?” Martin’s mind was going a million miles a minute.
Daisy and Jon carefully take turns stepping out of the impossible to comprehend wooden trap, and plant their feet on the floor. They walk as though solid ground is foreign to them, their legs moving like jell-o.
“I’m alright all things considered. I’m alive, I guess. I feel bloody awful though. Could really use some water, or I dunno five hundred milligrams of aspirin?” As Daisy rambled her eyes caught Basira’s.
“You’re alive. Jesus.” Basira’s tone was almost unreadable, but you could hear the relief behind her words.
“I’m alive.” The two women shared a moment that only the two of them could understand. They were both angry at the world and horribly exhausted, but just for a moment, they were happy to know there was someone to survive for again.
Once Daisy left with Basira to get cleaned up and catch up, the room was silent only for a moment before Martin spoke up.
“You didn’t answer me Jon.”
“What-?”
“What the hell were you thinking going into that coffin?!”
“I went to save Daisy. And I- I did.”
“What made you so sure, so bloody keen to think that you could just waltz down into the buried? With nothing but your RIB to anchor you?? Jesus Jon-” Martin didn’t realize how angry he was becoming. He kept telling himself to detach himself from the situation, ignore the feelings. But he can’t. It’s too hard right now when the only important person in his God awful life right now might have left him to actually be all alone. Forcing yourself to be lonely is harder when you know someone is out there, but it makes the loneliness easier to deal with knowing it has a purpose. With no purpose he might as well go along with whatever Peter wanted.
“Martin, I had to. I found out she was down there. Alive down there. I couldn’t just let her spend eternity suffocating-”
“You could have died! Or-or-worse-”
“I rather die than let another person suffer on my watch Martin!” Jon felt the words deep in his chest when he said them out loud. He knew they were true. He couldn’t handle the guilt of having another Sasha, or Tim, or even a Jurgen though God knows he doesn’t really count him. He just can’t handle it being his fault.
Martin takes a deep, ragged breath and stops arguing with him. After a beat he just looks at the other. He takes in the person standing across from himself. He looks so tired, and sad. So…hurt. Martin knows exactly why he went into that coffin. He hates that he did it, but he understands.
Martin sighs. “Lets go get you cleaned up. At least as much as possible right now without a head to toe spa treatment.”
Jon stares back at Martin, confused in the sudden tone shift. But he can see in his eyes that he understands him. Jon’s eyes soften, and the two go to find a safer room to hide away in.
All the time Martin had spent trying to separate himself from Jon and the others. Keeping to himself, staying lonely. All of that work and he knows it could all be unraveled by staying with Jon right now. But he would rather it all unravel than leave Jon right now. He needs a break from being lonely (even if it could cost him everything).
The closest and safest room happened to be Jon’s office. As Martin closed the door behind them, he made sure to check both directions in the hall to see if Peter was there. He knew realistically if Peter were to check in on him, or be spying, he’d just appear out of thin air like the freak he is, but Martin still wanted to feel some sort of control. That he knows at least there was nothing there when he closed and locked the door with the key Jon found conveniently in his desk drawer where it always was. Though it was never used until Jon started sleeping in his office.
Martin walked over to Jon who was leaning up against the edge of his heavy wooden desk. He was picking at the dirt underneath his nails, and desperately trying not to irritate any of his wounds. Martin started laying out the first aid kit he had grabbed on the way in, taking out some antiseptic wipes.
“Where’d you find that?”
“My desk. Well, my old desk I guess, now. I grabbed it on our way in. I always had a first aid kit hidden by my desk once the worms started getting bad.”
“Oh, yeah, I supposed that was smart.” Jon always feels some guilt when thinking back to the Jane Prentis situation. How Martin was so scared all the time. How he had to live at the institute by himself, and Jon didn’t show him any level of the care he was showing him in this moment. Things were different back then, he guesses.
“I mean it’s always good to have a first aid kit anywhere, even if there aren’t monsters attacking you on the daily! You don't know when you could get a paper cut on an old document or- or prick yourself on a paper clip! But um- y-yeah I mainly had it for the monsters.” Martin didn’t know why he was rambling. It was probably because he had been on a Peter conversation diet only, and that was about a limit of twenty words a day. He missed talking to people, to Jon, even if it was about dumb stuff. Or sad or scary stuff. He just wanted things to be normal.
“Thank you for helping Martin. I know you’re not supposed to, or allowed to or whatever. And I could be doing this myself you know-”
“Look at the state of your hands, no you could not, they’re dirty and all cut up. I mean you’d either get your other cuts all infected or just hurt your hands more. Anyway I- I’ll have to go soon though, you’re right I’m- I’m not even supposed to be talking to you.” Martin brought the wipe up to clean off a cut on Jon’s cheek.
“Why though? Why can’t you speak to me Martin? Or the others? What does Lukas have you doing?” Jon was trying desperately to break through to him.
“I can’t- I can’t tell you.” Martin stops cleaning Jon’s face and just looks at him. “Please trust me Jon. This will be over soon, Peter will be gone, and we’ll be safe.”
Jon stares back, holding the silence after Martin is done speaking. They are so close now, Martin’s hand gently resting on Jon’s face as they look into each other, searching for some kind of sign from each other that everything will be okay. Jon finds something in Martin’s face that tells him that he knows what he’s doing, even if he hates it. Even if he knows it’s dangerous as hell.
“I trust you, Martin. I just wish- I just wish there was a different way. A way to fix all of this where you don’t have to disappear.”
“I know. But it’s just how it has to be. I have to be lonely, it’s the only way to work with him. Even being here with you is setting me back.” Martin hates saying that to him, that just being near him could cause the world to end right now.
“Why are you here? You could have left the second you saw me get out of the coffin.”
“You can’t tend to your wounds yourself Jon, I said-”
“Martin, please.” Jon was looking so desperately into Martin’s eyes, it almost hurt to look back at.
“Because I needed a break from being so goddamn lonely, Jon! I- I missed you, I thought you were dead. Now you’re not. I just- sigh, I want to be with you before I have to be with nobody.” Martin started rifling through the first aid kit again, breaking their gaze. Silence filled the air for a beat. The both of them just sat there, their conversation lingering over their heads. Martin shifted his attention back to tending to Jon’s injuries. As he started cautiously wrapping gauze around one of Jon’s hands, Jon started to speak again.
“When I was down there, in the Buried, the main thing that kept me from suffocating was you.”
Martin paused, taking a beat to take in what Jon said. His heart was pumping very loudly. His mind never stopped racing since that coffin opened, and this wasn't making it slow down. He slowly looked up from his wrapping, back to Jon’s face.
“There was a point in there where all you could think about was the dirt pressing up against your chest, and the soil filling your lungs. It was agonizing, I mean I was so fucking thirsty and I just wanted to cry but I had no tears.” Jon was looking down, fidgeting with his pant leg. You could see the sorrow in his face.
“But I still had my mind, though it was so scrambled, and I just kept thinking Martin is up there. Find Martin. Sometimes I thought I heard your voice, which kept me grounded the most. But I also thought I heard some other people so I was definitely losing it at that point.”
Jon eventually looked up at Martin, who was still staring at him. There was a longing in Martin’s eyes that could be seen even without an Archivist’s mind. Jon felt a heavy weight in his chest and his heart was pumping with vigor. Martin carefully grabbed his freshly wrapped hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the back of it. He knew now that Jon would always be his anchor, and Martin would be his.
They sat like that, soaking up every possible second of connection they had left. Eventually Martin broke the silence.
“I don’t like being lonely,” Martin said quietly, his throat feeling tight with the sadness of those words.
“I wish I could be lonely with you.” Jon says, softly moving his hand so that Martin’s hand was now in his own, his thumb now brushing along Martin’s skin, mimicking his previous actions. As he does this, he can feel Martin’s face move a few centimeters closer to his own, their breaths almost mixing together now.
“Jon I- I need to leave. We’ve been together too long.”
“Isn’t there a different way-? sigh. I- I know Martin.” Jon starts to move back slightly but keeps their hands intertwined. He’s wondering why Martin even moved closer in the first place if he’s just going to disappear.
Martin hasn’t broken their gaze, the longing look still ever present in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
Jon is taken aback, but doesn’t flinch.
“I-I thought you needed to leave? I thought you had to start separating yourself again.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Jon. And it’s making it all worse. I just- I just want to put as much of my feelings out there in case I can’t sit like this with you again. For a long time, I mean.” Martin didn’t really know if he believed the ‘long time’ bit.
The staring continues, as they both breathe as one. Jon gently squeezes Martin’s hand, though it hurts a bit. Martin looks down at their hands, tied together like a tether. He wishes they never had to let go. When Martin looks up, Jon softly places his other hand on the underside of his chin. Jon moves closer towards Martin’s face, if that’s even possible. He is looking at Martin’s lips. They are chapped and bitten and full and he wants to kiss them.
Martin is still looking Jon in the eyes. His beautiful eyes that see everything.
“Please kiss me Martin.”
And as if they both can read minds, they lean into each other like they have done this time and time again. Jon moves his hand from Martin’s chin to the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek as their lips move tenderly. Martin uses his free hand to delicately hold Jon’s face as he does to him, softly intertwining his fingers in Jon’s soil coated hair. The kiss is passionate yet sweet, just as to be expected. It’s their first kiss at the end of the word. It’s filled with magic and sadness and terror and romance.