Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grian was running out of time. 

He tore through hundreds of worlds of code, looking for one, just one, that would be private enough, recluded enough, safe enough to take refuge in for just a few days.

The players wouldn’t even know he was there, and the Watchers wouldn’t be able to find him, and for the first time in void knows how many years, Grian would be free. 

A hundred more worlds were thrown to the side. Too obvious, too unprotected, too many players. Grian could feel the Watchers were nearing, their thick purple anger swirling around the whole castle choking him and they were getting closer please one world there has to be one-

“Xelqua!” A deep, rumbling voice boomed from another room in the castle, voice echoing off the marble walls and rattling Grian’s bones because he was Grian, not Xelqua, never Xelqua never again.

Grian’s third eye opened wider, desperation leaking off Grian in similar purple waves as two hundred more worlds, three hundred more worlds got tossed to the side.

The sounds of running and yelling got closer. Grian plunged deeper into the world server codes, scanning and scanning, but nothing, no worlds he could hide in were popping up.

A frustrated sob tore itself from Grian’s body. Not the first cry he’d had as a Watcher, but if the High Council got ahold of him- which was seeming much more likely as second by excruciating second passed by with no safe world-  it would definitely be the last.

And-

And Grian didn’t want to die. 

The door to Grian’s boarded up castle room was being banged on. He had put every dresser and chair along with wards on it to keep it sealed, but that wouldn’t keep the High Council out for long. 

Grian’s breathing picked up. The banging was loud. The door would break down in seconds at this point, and Grian had not found a world and he was going to diediediediedie-

There. A perfect world where the Watchers wouldn’t find him for a while.

Grian plunged his whole body into the code without a second thought, him and the magical remnants popping out of existence right as the door slammed in.

If Grian had had time to look deeper into the code, he might’ve recognized something vaguely familiar about the server name. 

Hermitcraft.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—

Mumbo hummed a nonsensical tune as he fiddled with his comparator. It was apart of the redstone powering the lighting system in Mumbo’s base, but had randomly stopped working some time ago.

It had been an awful time for Mumbo, who’d been in the middle of cooking a hearty breakfast of toast and eggs when all the lights in his base had inexplicably gone out at once.

His eggs were still broken on the floor from the scare.

Mumbo blindly reached towards the end of his workbench, grappling for a pair of tweezers.

One of the wires must’ve burned out or disconnected, which really was an easy fix as long as he could determine the specific point of power loss and find an identical part to replace it with, and-

“Mumbo! I’ve got what you asked for!” 

Letting out a yelp and dropping both the half-open comparator and the tweezers, Mumbo spun around on his chair, hand clenched into his shirt. 

“Scar!” Mumbo chastised, though there was no heat behind it. There often never was, with Scar. “You can’t sneak up on a man engrossed in his work like that!”

The man in question, Scar, rubbed his neck, giving a smile that indicated he wasn't very sorry at all. That was Scar though, always taking the opportunity when it presented itself.

Mumbo sighed, running a hand through his hair, fingerless gloves catching on a few tangles. “In any case, I appreciate it, Scar. I haven’t had time to go out and get a new set of tools.”

Scar snorted, weighing Mumbo’s new enchanted diamond axe in his hand. “Maybe if you upgraded to netherite like the rest of us..” He trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

Mumbo groaned, slumping in his seat. “I hate the Nether, you know that Scar. I always die before I can actually get anything done.”

“You could always pay someone to gather the netherite for you?” Scar offered, “Maybe Tango?” 

Mumbo made a face. “I can already hear him making fun of me every day after.” Spinning clockwise in his chair, Mumbo began cleaning up his work station, putting tools in their proper drawers and redstone pieces back in the boxes.  

Humming in agreement, Scar plopped Mumbo’s axe carelessly on the workbench, moving a few tools and stray wires to the side and plopping himself on the bench, too. He eyed Mumbo, who’d done nothing but fondly roll his eyes as Scar perched himself.

“There’s other options, too. I know this super handsome guy, you know. Brown eyes, adorable cat, real charmer as well. I could get you in contact?” To accentuate the point that Scar was talking about himself, he wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Oh, Ren? Don’t worry Scar, I already know him.”

Scar let out a fake dramatic gasp at Mumbo’s quick response, throwing his hand up to his forehead. “Oh Mumbo you wound me! I’ll never recover from this betrayal. Ever! That is not best friend etiquette.”

Picking up the axe and moving it into his inventory, Mumbo surveyed his lab. He almost cringed at the state of it. Every shelf held half-finished redstone contraptions, blueprints, or empty cups of coffee. He really should do a deep clean one of these days.

“You know,” Scar started after a moment of silence had passed, not meeting his mustached friend’s eyes, “If you’re not busy, there’s a nice clearing only a little ways away from my base. Might be nice to sit down, maybe have a picnic..?” 

Mumbo lit up at the proposition. He was overdue some sunlight, his skin paler than it probably should be. Also, Scar made mouth-watering cookies and savory sandwiches his grandmother would be jealous of. “Sure mate, sounds like a blast! Maybe Pearl would like to tag along too, I know she’s been occupied with her build lately.”  Mumbo turned away from Scar to begin walking towards the door to leave, missing the way Scar’s smile fell.

“Oh- I  mean- maybe, but actually Mumbo, I thought it could just be-”

Suddenly, a deafening boom followed by a few shakes from the ground had Mumbo tripping and catching himself against the nearest wall, hands instinctively flying to cover his ears. He heard various tools and mechanics crash to the ground as the earth threatened to send him reeling, too.

Scar seemed to fare no better, shakily tumbling off the top of the bench and immediately routing himself to hide underneath it, hands mirroring Mumbo’s own as they covered his ears.

After what felt like hours, the world seemed to correct itself, and the duo stayed frozen in their spots for a few moments, only the sounds of heavy breathing filling the now otherwise quiet room.

“What in the world..” Mumbo muttered. As far as the redstoner knew, Xisuma had turned off any possibility of earthquakes- or any other natural disaster- on the Hermitcraft server with his admin abilities.

“Some worlds choose to have natural disasters,” Xisuma had explained, “but since Hermitcraft is largely known for mega bases and intricate, sometimes fragile buildings, I find it's safer to turn that possibility off.” Every hermit agreed with that, not wanting their hard work to be crushed by a tornado or something of the sort.

As if on cue, both Scar’s and Mumbo’s comms began chiming in sync. Both men glanced at each other before whipping out the device and scrolling the quickly incoming messages.

<ImpulseSV> Did anyone else feel that??

<GeminiTay> I thought natural disasters were turned off?

<DocM77> Some of my redstone shifted out of place

<TangoTek> Woahh, was that an earthquake?

<iJevin> Lag??

<Xisumavoid> Working on figuring it out right now. Yes, natural disasters are still turned off, and my code sheet isn’t telling me a lag spike occurred.

<Etho> If you need help X, I can swing by.

<Xisumavoid> That’d be great actually, stop by whenever you can. Whatever happened is either some sort of glitch or hidden deep in the code.

<Goodtimeswithscar> Should we be worried about anymore earthquakes?

<Xisumavoid> Unsure, so stay cautious. Tell me immediately if you notice anything else strange happening.

<iJevin> You got it, boss

Mumbo switched off his communicator. He looked up at his brown haired companion, who was worriedly biting his lower lip.

“Ah, I’m sure it’s alright mate, X and Etho will have it figured out in no time! In fact, I’m sure it was just a glitch or lag spike or something silly-”

“Do you wanna go investigate?” Scar interrupted his friend’s ramble, a smile slowly growing on his face as the idea cemented itself more and more into Scar’s mind, a complete contrast to the uncertain look he held just seconds prior.

Frankly, Mumbo couldn’t think of a worse idea. Investigate the loud explosion-noise that caused half of Mumbo’s tools and junk to scatter across the room and an uproar in the server chat? No way, too big a risk. What if some huge, mega-mutant warden had breached the surface? Mumbo didn’t have good enough armor for that! Or what if-

“Mumbo, hate to have to tell you this, mega mutant-wardens don’t exist. Not earth-shaking ones, anyway.” 

Ah. Mumbo had said all of that out loud. 

When silence greeted Scar, his friend let out a small sigh, reaching up to tug Mumbo’s hands out from his hair. He must have been doing that subconsciously, then. That was pants. Really, this whole situation was pants.

“Come on! It wouldn’t be so bad. It’d save X the trip out here. Y’know? Plus, if we notice something even slightly weird or out of our depth, we’ll dip. Sound good?”

Skeptically, Mumbo looked at his companion. Scar donned an easy smile, the kind that made Mumbo fold every time. A small tilt of his lips accompanied by soft, brown eyes filled with a type of fondness that struck Mumbo’s heart. Void, whenever Scar looked at Mumbo like that, Mumbo couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

That was sort of how the two had become friends, anyhow. Mumbo, who’d settled on Hermitcraft since Season 2, had been a little more reclusive. He had friends, of course, but none that he’d ask to ever sit and just.. hang out with. So he ended up sticking to his builds and redstone, working on creating the most efficient farms possible.

Xisuma had often checked up on Mumbo, aware of the Hermit’s, well, hermit tendencies, but Mumbo always assured him he was fine, really.

Even if he did feel lonely, sometimes. 

When Season 4 came along, however, a shiny, bright eyed clumsy man named Scar came along with it. Where Mumbo was all introvert, redstoner, stuttering over sentences and generally insecure, Scar was all extrovert, landscaper, smooth talking and overconfidence. At a first glance, one would assume the two wouldn’t interact much, personalities completely different. The Venn Diagram was two circles ten feet apart, so to speak.

Scar seemed to have other plans, though. He’d burst into Mumbo’s life like a horse on fire, asking Mumbo to teach him redstone this, go to the shopping district that, bake cookies maybe tomorrow.

Mumbo found himself being dragged into a friendship with Scar sooner than he could deny the brunette’s mischief-filled eyes as Mumbo, I just let loose a hoard of creepers in Doc’s base, we’ve gotta go before he retaliates. 

And Scar was just a good friend, when push came to shove.

Which is why, when Mumbo is met with his friend’s voiddamned relaxed, easygoing smile..

Well, he folded.

“Fine. But swear that we’ll leave at the first sign of trouble.”

The way Scar’s face absolutely lit up was probably too much of a reward for Mumbo.

Scar linked his and Mumbo’s pinkies together, startling the redstoner at the suddenness. The duo’s faces were much closer together now, Scar’s wide smile only maybe a foot away. Mumbo fought to keep a blush from rising to his face. 

“Pinky promise, ‘Kay? Legally binding things, can’t break them because the universe would fall apart, blah blah you get it. I’d never let you down, Mumbo!” Scar cheered. Mumbo unhooked their pinkies and laughed.

“Well, let me at least get a bag together.”

—*—*—*—*

200 feet into the forest, and Mumbo was starting to freak out again. For his part, Scar tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with silly commentary and an over-dramatic retelling of his day.

Usually willing to listen and humor the landscaper, Mumbo found himself unable to focus. He’d tried to convince himself it was just a server glitch or an intense lag spike, but Mumbo’s gears were turning without his consent, supplying any number of other possibilities.

Clearly, there was something wrong. Xisuma was a strong, skilled admin. Things like this just never happened, not large scale, anyway. Plus, when Mumbo thought harder about it, nobody had brought up the boom that originally had Scar and Mumbo slapping their hands over both ears to preserve their eardrums.

If the rest of the server didn’t hear it, what exactly did that mean? Likely that whatever happened must’ve been close by, which was exactly what Mumbo did not want. 

“Here!” 

Scar’s voice, not out of breath whatsoever despite the fast pace he’d set, finally broke Mumbo out of his head.

Squinting his eyes around for a moment, Mumbo finally found what Scar was pointing at. A black scorch mark burned into the ground. It was maybe five feet wide and six feet long, and on closer inspection, had apparently crushed some poppies which now held a withered, black color.

Scar’s voice piped up again, this time filled with bread he’d gotten out to eat at some point. “Wonder what caused that. Maybe this has to do with the earthquake?”

“Chew with your mouth closed.” Mumbo muttered distractedly, kneeling on one knee to gently rest his hand on the black patch. The poppies crumbled under his touch immediately, and a film of the black ash transferred onto Mumbo’s glove.

Scar leaned over his friend’s shoulder, looking curiously at Mumbo’s now ash covered hand. “Is it dangerous, do you think?” He questioned, eyeing the large scorched spot.

Mumbo shook his head. “No. It’s just ash. Like when something is burned in a fire.” 

Scar’s face took on a look of understanding. Straightening himself up, he glanced up at the surrounding trees. They were tall oak trees, and the forest was dense with a million flammable things. “Forest fire, maybe?”

This time, Mumbo hesitated before again shaking his head. “If that were true, it’d definitely still be going on. And one tree wouldn’t leave a scorch mark like this.” Standing up, Mumbo put a finger on his chin. “Or one at all, I believe.”

Scar elbowed his mustached friend, a small smile on his face. If Mumbo looked a little harder, he might’ve made out the slightly troubled look on the brunette’s face.  “Ever the smart one, Mumbo. I probably wouldn't have chalked it up to a forest fire and been on my way.”

Mumbo huffed. “It would be ten times less worrying if it was a forest fire.” Scar hummed in a noncommittal agreement, flicking dirt and grass strands off his pants.

The forest was almost completely shaded away, an indicator of the sun setting. Mumbo watched the last few rays of light slowly close off, a cool breeze sending a pleasant chill through his body.

“Right, well the suns going down- so I reckon we’d better report back to X now, right Scar?”

A beat.

“Scar?” Mumbo craned his neck back towards where his friend was standing.

Or, where his friend should’ve been standing.

“Oh! Oh no no no Scar, where have you run off too?” 

—*—*—*—*

Scar hadn’t meant to wander off, really. The sun was setting, it was getting colder, and poor Mumbo would have a heart attack, it’s just..

When he and Mumbo had first walked into the forest, he had thought he saw something. A quick flash of red in his peripheral darting behind a tree. 

Initially, he’d ignored it. His mind playing tricks on him, leftover paranoia from the sudden earthquake.

And then he saw it again. Another flash of red, but this time it seemed to be climbing up a tree. 

Most likely it was a bird. Maybe a strangely colored squirrel (Doc had once all the horses in Bdubs’ stable bright pink. Despite acting angry about it, Bdubs never attempted to correct the color).

But the red feather Scar had found nestled in a patch of daisies nearby made him think otherwise.

He’d found it while Mumbo was rattling on about burn marks or something smart like that. Scar was usually very inclined to listen to friends ramblings, he loved hearing him talk about redstone trinkets and contraptions Scar couldn’t dream of understanding but pretended to anyway. But he was distracted.

He’d slid his eyes over to Mumbo, who was laser-focused on the burn spot. Quickly, he had pocketed the red feather.

What was really troubling Scar was the species the feather was from. Scar was no expert on feathers but.. 

Well. It was too large to be from a regular bird, and curved in a way that indicated it wasn’t really from a bird at all. Rather, an avian.

And there were no avians on the Hermitcraft server with wings a cherry red.

So when Scar once again saw the flash of red, his feet began taking steps without his consent.

He quietly crept through the forest, keeping a close eye on any changes to the greenery. Every small gust of wind made him freeze and whip his head around, every rustle of bush was thoroughly checked.

Scar didn’t know how long he’d been wandering the forest when he’d found it.

Another feather.

It was the same shade of red, the same size as the first. Except, this one had a blackened top.

Score!

Scar squinted his eyes, looking through his surroundings. Disappointingly, but not unsurprisingly, there was nothing. That was one thing about avians, Scar supposed. If they didn’t want to be found, they wouldn’t.

Letting out a sigh and slumping his shoulders, Scar got ready to find Mumbo again. Before he could take a step though, he felt a light touch on the top of his head.

A feather-light touch, even.

Delicately plucking the appendage off his head, Scar studied it. As he suspected, it was the exact same as the two before.

Slowly, Scar craned his neck up. A tree branched off directly above him, leaves rustling slightly. His feet suddenly were frozen to the ground, eyes widening and vocal cords tightening even as his mouth fell open.

Right above him, staring right back at Scar, were two bright purple eyes that screamed danger run hide predator.

The right course of action would be to run away, hide, message Xisuma and maybe even take a vacation off-world for a while, but gravity stuck Scar down like the world would uproot itself if he took even one step.

Mumbo, on cue, came tumbling through the woods, tripping over twigs and his clothes catching on bark. He wildly waved his communicator around. 

“Scar! Scar, we have to get out of here right now, Xisuma and Etho got back to us, we know what crashed! It’s a-”

Scar didn’t need Mumbo to finish his sentence. His throat loosened and allowed him to choke out one single, terrifying word. 

“Watcher.”

Chapter Text

This is bad, is the first thought that rockets to the front of Grian’s mind as he stares at the man down below him. He looks frightened- of course he does you’re Watcher, Grian- and similarly frozen in place like Grian himself.

Well this wasn’t very ideal. Grian hadn’t been on this world for half an hour and half and a player had already found him.

Kill him, a voice laced with honey and false kindness purred in his ear. But Grian knew better, knew the true dangers behind it. Permanent death, Xelqua. You’ve done it before.

That thought had Grian’s eyes widening. He- sure he’d killed a player permanently before but he’d been forced too, he didn’t want too-

Thoughts were zipping through the avian’s brain at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. Should he threaten the player to keep quiet? Would it be safer to world hop and try again?

The player below him still hadn’t moved, and Grian’s thoughts began to settle on him. He had straight brown hair that fell just at his eyes, a silly red coat and green shirt underneath that weirdly worked. His face seemed to be covered with healed-over scars as well.

A crashing noise caused Grian to tense up more, while the man below seemed to relax. Grian’s ears picked up another player's voice.

Not good, not good, not good.

The man below whispered out “Watcher”, and Grian jolted into action. He leapt from the branch, soaring over the brunettes head. His ankle twisted painfully, but Grian didn’t dwell on it before taking off again.

Shouts of surprise filled the blonde’s ears, and the crunching of twigs suggested that whoever the players were had decided to follow him.

Grian was decidedly at a disadvantage. The players knew the world and its mechanics, while Grian hadn’t been 100 feet of a real player in years. 

Ducking and weaving between bushes, trees, and stray branches wasn’t easy with what was definitely a twisted ankle and burns dotting his body. The fall through the world’s protection codes wasn’t pretty or peaceful, to say the least.

“Hey! Hey come back, we just wanna talk!” 

Yeah, right. Just talk. If the players got their hands on him, they’d report him to their admin, who’d turn him right over to the higher ups, and then the Watchers would find him, and Grian would never get out again.

A new sense of determination swelled within Grian, and he picked up his pace, much to the chagrin of the players following him as they let out twin groans at the realization.

“Seriously, we just want to- ouch!”

Grian heard what sounded like the brunette falling straight into a bush. If Grian was lucky, it would have thorns. He risked a glance back, seeing the raven-haired player fretting over the brunette, pulling him out of the bush.

Grian locked eyes with the scar-covered man for a moment. His brown eyes didn’t seem filled with fear like Grian would’ve expected. They were almost.. sad. Like he really did just want to talk, like he really didn’t have any intention of turning the avian in.

But.. Grian was a Watcher. The player would be a fool to not be scared, was a fool to chase after Grian in the first place.

Watchers dealt entirely in lies and omitted truths and guarded walls. Genuinity and vulnerability were sure-fire ways to make yourself a target.

Players were like animals, Grian had been told. It was how the Watchers justified placing themselves as gods. All players were rough edges and constant wars and ingenuity.

But this player didn’t exude any of that. 

It was just a small moment, not even two seconds of locked eyes, and Grian’s constructed ideas of players were crumbling around him. Maybe he was stupid to allow himself to believe a single thing the Watchers told him.

Apparently, the moment lasted a second too long, because the moment Grian turned his head back around, his head collided painfully with a branch, and Grian could only feel himself topple over for a second before everything went black.

—*—*—*—

Grian woke up to the sound of quiet arguing. It wasn’t loud enough that it’s what actually pulled him from unconsciousness, but even with his eyes closed he could feel the tense atmosphere.

Tuning out whatever was going on around him, Grian tried to feel out his surroundings. He was laying in something soft, with layers of something resting over his body. A bed? 

Noticeably, his hands weren’t tied up either. Which was strange to the tenth degree, because what? These players really were stupid, to be blunt.

Grian cracked his eyes open slowly, carefully making no noises. The players, presumably the two following him in the forest, were still arguing, so maybe they wouldn’t notice if he opened his eyes..

Although he found himself squinting from the sudden onslaught of light in the room, rapidly blinking blurriness from his eyes, Grian found he was proven correct when, after a few seconds, neither of the players seemed to notice him. Grian observed the players.

The brunette from before was easily recognizable to Grian. He seemed to be on the defensive, simultaneously trying to placate the other player while also.. well, saying something about Grian.

After the forest chase, passing out, and the fact that Grian was put in a bed rather than thrown out of the server was a puzzle Grian didn’t have the energy to put together.

As he looked at the second player, however, a strike of something zipped through Grian’s body. Some indescribable emotion (because with the Watchers, he had to relearn emotions, too) that seemed to claw at the sides of his brain, that wanted to push his body into action for someone he doesn’t even know.

Really, it was all making Grian quite nervous.

The second player, who Grian was getting a look at for the first time, was clearly frustrated. His eyebrows were pulled tight and he was gesturing wildly, sometimes at the first player, sometimes himself, and sometimes Grian. He was wearing what looked to be a suit with the vest taken. That couldn’t have been easy to run after me in, Grian mused.

His hair was black and he donned a mustache. Something in Grian ached to move, to be.. be closer, maybe, with the man. 

Stubbornly, Grian sat still.

“Scar! We should’ve told X yesterday, but here he is! What were we even supposed to do with a half-dead Watcher!” The mustached man’s voice pitched as he spoke, clearly shown frustration evident on his face.

Also, half-dead? That was news to Grian. Sure, upon ripping through hundreds of layers of carefully-crafted code, he didn’t feel great. He’d seen a couple of burns, plus his ankle felt funny while he was running but..

Maybe adrenaline had a larger effect on him than he’d thought.

“I know. I know! I hear you Mumbo, I do!” Mumbo, that was his name. Whatever it was in Grian’s body that was reacting this way was growing more intense. And Grian tried to pinpoint where it was coming from, why his body yearned, maybe, for the name.

But he just..

He couldn’t remember.

“He was injured, Mumbo!” The brunette, Scar, continued, “Look. You don’t trust him, you don’t have to! But I need you to trust me.” There was a pleading lilt to the man’s- Scar’s- voice, that made Mumbo’s face crumple.

“I- I don’t know. He could cause problems for the server. Already has, really.” Mumbo was deflating, his tone losing the previous heat.

Scar’s face softened, and he reached over to put a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder.

“And if he does, I’ll deal with it. Take the fallout. But my gut is telling me that there’s more to this guy, and when is good ol’ Scar’s gut feeling ever wrong?” 

With the argument coming to a close, Grian knew he only had a few moments before they realized he was awake.

He was confused, though. Scar was defending him, trying to make the other man leave him alone. Maybe.. 

This was weird. Thousands upon thousands of servers, and the one he’d landed on had to be weird.

A sneeze suddenly and forcefully wracked itself from Grian’s body, startling both players who immediately whipped their heads over to him.

“Oh. Oh! Um, shoot, you’re awake. Which- that’s good! Um. Probably. Ah- Scar?” Mumbo stumbled through, helplessly looking towards his friend helplessly.

Well. Grian wasn’t feeling too threatened right about now. He stayed tense though, narrowing his eyes as Scar got the mustached man to calm down and take a few steps back.

“Sorry, don’t mind my friend. He’s the nervous type, y’know? I’m Scar, and the bumbling mess over there is Mumbo,” Mumbo made a noise of protest that Scar bulldozed right over, “and we saved you! Surprise!” 

The surprise! was accompanied by jazz hands, which. Hm.

Get rid of them, that stupid, wretched part of Grian that wouldn’t go away whispered again. They’d be such an easy target. Take them out, kill-

Grian shot up like a bullet, ignoring the way his ribs and upper body ached in protest. Scar, startled, instinctively reached out to Grian, only to freeze when Grian flinched so hard his back crashed painfully into the bed board behind him, a gasp escaping him.

The air in the room went stagnant as the trio held a poor, tense excuse of a staring contest. Scar’s eyes filled with worry, Mumbo’s with shock, and Grian’s with fear- and he wasn’t too sure if it was fear of the players before him, or of himself anymore.

Heavy breathing from Grian seemed to suck the tension right from the air. His injuries were starting to make themselves known now, and they seemed to be everywhere. He assumedly jostled whatever patchwork the players had done when he’d sat up and then bumped into the headboard.

Scar slowly raised his hands up, keeping them at ear-level. “We aren’t going to hurt you. That’s not what we want. You’re hurt, and we want to help!” Grian narrowed his eyes. “We won’t tell anyone you’re here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He quickly added on. “Right, Mumbo?” 

At being addressed suddenly, Mumbo flailed for a moment before vigorously shaking his head so hard it would probably cause a headache later.

“See? We aren’t tattletails or anything. I’m an open book! Ask me anything.”

Instead of taking Scar up on that offer, Grian instead opted to say what he’d been thinking for awhile now. 

“I don’t trust you.”

Grian could tell his voice was bad. His throat hurt as soon as the words left his mouth, and the way Scar winced slightly upon hearing it was as good an indication that it sounded as bad as the avian felt.

“Mumbo, why don’t you go get our guest a glass of water, yeah?”

The mustached man made clear noises of disagreement, but didn’t fight too hard as Scar pushed him out of the room and closed the door in his face.

Dusting his hands off, Scar turned back to Grian. “Let’s talk then, shall we?”

Grian stared at Scar, signaling that no, he definitely couldn’t talk yet. Scar made an “ah” noise before walking towards the closet in the room and pulling out a bottle of water.

As soon as it was passed into Grian’s hand, he greedily drank it up, not pausing to wonder if it was even poisoned. It was sealed, so unlikely, but..

The bottle of water was gone in an instant, and Grian looked up to see Scar standing shocked, but an amused smile on his face. 

“If you had water here, why’d you send the other guy out?” Grian bluntly asked. Considering he was the kidnappee, he felt he had the right to a few questions.

Scar coughed. “Mumbo’s not great at this whole.. conversing with a Watcher thing. He won’t rat you out, but I think it’s best if we have a private talk.”

Grian crossed his arms. “You kidnapped me.” 

“You ripped our code and crashed into our world. Big security risk. I think I’d win in a court case.” Scar fired back, raising an eyebrow.

“You weren't supposed to know I was here. I just.. miscalculated.”

Scar hummed, taking off his red overcoat before speaking again. “I just want to know why.”

“Why.. what?”

Throwing his hands in the air, Scar turned back towards Grian, a genuinely confused look on his face. “Why you, a Watcher, fell into our world with no intentions of hurting us! It goes against everything we know about you guys.”

Grian almost responded with “you’ve also gone against everything I’ve learned about players,” but now didn’t seem like the right time to address that.

“I’m not a Watcher.” Grian hissed. At some point, his wings had flared out, instinctively trying to make him seem bigger to intimidate Scar.

Frustratingly, it wasn’t working.

“..You- what?” Scar stuttered, looking a little dumbstruck. 

“I’m not a Watcher.” Grian repeated. “And I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop calling me one.” He gritted out, taking a step out of the bed.

Purple waves slowly started to fill the room, wrapping around Grian and gravitating towards Scar. They circled his wrists, arms, moving all the way to his chest.

Suddenly, Scar was tugged forward a step. Grian knew his eyes were a bright purple, his wings slowly shedding the red color for dark purple.

“I got out. I escaped. And I will not allow some- some player to undo all my hard work!” 

Scar’s eyes were wide, but not from fear like anyone else’s would be. Rather, it seemed like he just had the world’s largest realization.

“..okay.”

Silence filled the room. “Okay?” Grian let out a humorless laugh. This was bizarre. This was crazy. Who even was this player? He hadn’t been talking to him for ten minutes, and he was scrambling Grian’s brain, acting differently than the avian would have expected. He was patient, and spoke softly, and allowed every emotion to be plainly read on his face and in his body. Where was the anger, the deception and blackmailing, the cold expressions?

Now that he thought about it, Scar wasn’t even carrying a sword. Was he that confident Grian wouldn’t kill him? Or was he maybe just confident that he could beat Grian in a fight?

Grian hardly registered his breathing picking up, or his feet stumbling backwards onto the bed. Everything was confusing, and everything he thought he knew to be true seemed to be wrong. It shouldn’t have been such a shock that the Watchers lied to him, really, but it was hard, so hard, relearning things about his memories had been taken away. 

He wishes, so desperately, that he could just remember.

Was the player still in front of him? Grian hoped not. He probably looked like a mess. His hands made their way up to his hair; tugging slightly on the strands. No air was entering his lungs, even though it felt like too much was being inhaled, and he was showing vulnerability, and vulnerability gets you killed, Xelqua. Don’t be weak like this. 

But Grian wasn’t with the Watchers right now. He was with a player.

I used to be a player, too. Grian’s thoughts screamed at him. It was one of the only things he’d known after his memories got taken away; his name used to be Grian, and he used to be a player. 

The Watchers made sure none of that was true anymore.

I used to be a player.

I used to be a player.

The tugging got more aggressive, and that was when he felt hands circle his wrists. Grian’s eyes were locked closed. 

“-ey. Do you know where you are?”

What? That was.. that was the player’s voice. Scar?

A small laugh. “Yeah, it’s me. Glad you remembered my name.”

Oh. He’d said that out loud.

Slowly, Scar pulled Grian’s hands out of his hair, chattering about random nothings that Grian wasn’t really focusing on.

He felt miserable. 

His breathing had gone almost entirely back to normal, a few gasps here and there. 

“I’m sorry. Was it something I said?”

“I- you- what?” Grian stuttered, pulling his wrists out of Scar’s grasp. “I attacked you, threatened you, why are you- why?” A strangled yell made its way out of Grian’s throat, and Scar, stupid, patient Scar, just sat there.

“You weren’t actually going to hurt me, though.” Scar said, tone leaving no room for argument.  

Grian narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know that,” he accused.

Scar hummed, tilting his head left to right. “Not entirely. But I could make an educated guess.”

The brunette moved away from Grian, putting a finger to his face. “You don’t really look like a Watcher. You don’t cover your face with a mask, your wings aren’t purple, your eyes only shine purple when you’re using that Watcher magic.” Scar waves his finger at each feature he described. A part of Grian wanted to correct him, to say, but I used to do all that. 

He didn’t.

“And ultimately,” Scar finished, flashing a warm smile at Grian, “If you were really a dangerous Watcher, you would’ve killed or hurt me ages ago.”

Scar wasn’t.. wrong, Grian realized. He’d always been deficient as a Watcher, had always fought every step of the way. But for a player to realize that..

The door burst open again, Mumbo fumbling with a glass of water. Scar’s smile turned up a degree. “Mumbo! I was just finishing talking to our new friend.” Scar swiped the water glass from his friend and gulped it down.

“Wha- Scar! I thought that-” 

Scar placed a finger to Mumbo’s lips, silencing the redstoner. “He’s been properly hydrated, already. No need to worry!” 

Not for the first time tonight, Mumbo helplessly looked at his friend, then whipped his head to Grian, who looked noticeably calmer and less intense than before.

Grian gave an awkward wave. Mumbo just stared back.

“Well now that we’ve established you won’t hurt us and we won’t hurt you or turn you in,” A pointed look towards Mumbo, who’s hands shot up as if to say I didn’t do anything,“Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Uh.. no. I just..” He trailed off. Scar, however, seemed to understand and once again began shuffling Mumbo and himself out the door. “Then we’ll give you time to think! Don’t break anything, the bathroom is the door just to the left, don’t rip any bandages off.” He was halfway out the door now, moving to close it before pausing.

“Is there something we can call you?” 

Grian thought for a moment. He didn’t know if he was ready, really, to share his real name. So maybe just.. 

“G,” he settled on, “you can call me G.”

Scar’s face lit up and Mumbo’s evened out. The brunette waved goodbye and before Grian had a moment to wave back, the door shut and he was left alone.

He had a lot to think about.

Chapter Text

Mumbo was entirely, utterly out of his depth.

For three days, he and Scar had been hiding away the Watcher in the Swaggon, Scar’s base this season. 

Xisuma and Doc had been tearing their hair out trying to find the Watcher, but obviously to no avail. They’d placed the Hermits on a server-wide lockdown; nobody was to leave their bases, and if they absolutely had to, they were to message Xisuma where they were every ten minutes and bring a friend.

Now, Mumbo was a play by the rules, don’t stray from the path, think inside the box kind of guy. The stress of keeping a secret this dangerous was making Mumbo sick. His fingers shook every time Xisuma messaged to check up on him and he’d have to lie and say, “yup, everythings all good here for me and Scar!”

Mumbo thought he deserved a good cry session.

Logically, Mumbo knew he should’ve reported the Watcher to Xisuma the second he and Scar had found him in the forest. Even still, Mumbo’s brain screamed at him to send the message, to say hey, the Watcher’s here at Scar’s base and please please please take him away.

He never did though, because Scar had asked, begged him not to, and Mumbo had always been weak when it came to Scar. So he didn’t. He allowed Scar to keep the Watcher in his bedroom, and bring him meals, and do whatever in there with him.

Mumbo didn’t know exactly what they did or talked about, because ever since he and Scar had dumped the Watcher in the bed and wrapped his wounds, Mumbo had not stepped foot in the room. He allowed Scar to take care of the Watcher.

A part of Mumbo wanted to be as far away as possible from the Watcher. It was too dangerous, and Mumbo just didn’t do dangerous. He never went to the Nether, for voids sake, he wasn’t equipped to hide a Watcher.

That was the other thing. Scar had managed to get a name out of the Watcher. Or, well, an alias as least. He wanted to be called “G”, and Scar had dutifully stuck by that. No more saying “the Watcher is healing good,” but instead saying “G’s wings have almost shed all the burnt feathers!”

Mumbo found himself screaming into a pillow quite often these days.

There was the stronger part of Mumbo, though, that wouldn’t let him leave. Scar would continue keeping the Watcher here whether Mumbo stayed or not. That was why he hadn’t run out the door; for Scar.

It was always for Scar.

Mumbo wearily sighed, slowly stirring the mushroom soup on the stove. Enough for three helpings. Mumbo was never much of a cook, but he was willing to do anything to keep his mind occupied. Scar- for good reason- didn’t keep redstone components on hand, which was Mumbo’s usual go-to, so instead he opted for cooking, cleaning, weeding. Anything to keep him away from Scar’s bedroom and the danger that lied in it.

(A small part of Mumbo acknowledged that there was another reason he wouldn’t enter the room. The Watcher- G- looked like someone. He couldn’t place who, exactly, but there was an itch that Mumbo couldn’t scratch whenever he had to look at the blonde avian. 

“Scar.”

Scar sighed, flipping over so his back was against the counter. Mumbo had a full view of his incredibly guilty face.

This couldn’t be good.

“I know it’s short notice, but I might’ve.. promised Cub that I’d help him work on his new laboratory building, since he can’t be outside alone.”

Mumbo turned the stove off. “But?”

“But he needs me to stay over for at least three days for it to be finished fully, which means that youllhavetotakecareofGwhileimout?” Scar spoke the last part incredibly quickly, voice lilting up like he was asking a question.

What.

“What.”

Scar winced at Mumbo’s deadpan. “I’m so so so sorry, and I owe you three times over, four times over, seriously!” 

Mumbo shook his head, hands running through his hair in anticipation. “Scar I can’t- I’m not equipped to take care of the- of G in there!”

Scar placed a hand delicately on Mumbo’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, I swear. I wouldn’t lie or omit anything, not in this situation.”

“Besides,” he continued, slinging a brown bag over his shoulder. “it’d probably do you two good to talk. You’re more alike than you think.”

Mumbo looked in alarm. “You- you’re leaving right now?”

“Y-eah,” Scar said, drawing the word out. He had the he decently to look sheepish. “Forgot to mention that. I trust you’ll have everything handled!”

“Wha- Scar, no!”

With a salute, Scar stepped out the door and closed it, leaving Mumbo alone.

Mumbo was entirely, utterly, disastrously, out of his depth.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo slowly cracked the door to Scar’s bedroom, careful not to drop the bowl of mushroom soup he was holding.

It would be pretty easy; give G the food, explain that Scar would be gone for three days, then leave. 2 minutes, tops.

The Watcher- G, Mumbo reminded himself- was sitting on Scar’s bed, reading.. a book? He seemed very intrigued by it, eyes hungry looking left-right across the pages.

“Ah- hello!” Mumbo winced when his voice came out more staticy then he meant it too. 

G jumped, book sliding off his lap like he wasn’t expecting Mumbo’s voice.

Which. He probably wasn’t, to be fair. But Mumbo wasn’t expecting to be delivering food to G today either, so they seemed pretty even.

“Where- uh.. where’s Scar?” The avian asked, tilting his head around Mumbo’s form to try and see Scar.

Mumbo tentatively walked forwards, noting how G’s eyes followed his every move cautiously.

“Scar is.. he was asked to help a friend. He’s gonna be gone for a couple days.”

There, steps one and two, done. One more, which was to leave, and Mumbo would be home free.

“Oh. That’s disappointing.” 

Mumbo stopped his walk towards the door. He bit his bottom lip. It seemed like G was more so talking to himself but..

“He’s really, really sorry if it means anything,” Mumbo offered. G looked up at the mustached man, frowning. 

“No it’s.. it’s okay. He shouldn’t have to wait on me anyway.” 

Mumbo wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “I bet he’ll be back in no time at all.” 

Without giving G time to respond, Mumbo shuffled out the door and closed it. He leaned against the wood, taking the biggest breath of his life.

It was just three days, right? How bad could it be, really?

—*—*—*—

The very next morning, Mumbo made himself and G pancakes for breakfast. He prepared himself to walk in, speak a good morning to the avian, and walk out, similar to the previous night.

“Good morning,” Mumbo said, balancing the plate of pancakes in his hand and pushing the door open with his hip. G yawned in response.

“What’s this?” The avian asked, wiping his eyes as Mumbo set the plate down on the nightstand.

“Breakfast,” Mumbo responded, “Er, well, pancakes specifically.”

G nodded, eyeing the food with curiosity. (Which felt a little weird to Mumbo. He had made plain pancakes with butter, nothing new or exciting).

“Right, well, you enjoy that. I’m going to do some gardening out back if you need me.”

Mumbo turned away, ready to flee as quickly as he’d entered, but was stopped by G clearing his throat. Turning around, Mumbo watched the blonde’s face turn a light shade of pink. 

“I was wondering, actually. I’ve healed up a bit. And. I was going to ask Scar, but obviously he’s not here right now, and I just..” G trailed off.

Mumbo just stared blankly at G. He was trying to get something across to Mumbo, but Mumbo had no idea what the avian was trying to say.

G turned his head away. “Could I maybe.. tag along?” Mumbo didn’t respond right away, because G immediately began rambling, “It’s just, I’ve been taking up space here in this room for ages now, but I think I'm getting a lot better now! So maybe I could walk around a bit? And I’ll be really quiet, and I won’t leave your sight or anything but you’ll hardly know I’m there!”

Mumbo’s jaw slackened. G’s wings folded in on himself. He wasn’t.. he didn’t think he’d be bombarded with something like this, to be honest. 

Mostly he’d assumed that G would stay in Scar’s room, sleeping or reading or whatever, and all Mumbo would have to do was bring him three meals a day.

Void, what would Scar want him to do? What would Scar do?

“Let him tag along!” A suspiciously Scar-sounding voice said in Mumbo’s head. Mumbo groaned internally. He really didn’t want to spend time with the dangerous, fugitive-adjacent avian, but credit where credit was due, G hadn’t tried to attack him or Scar yet so maybe..

Also, it would make Scar happy if Mumbo did this. So really, there wasn’t a choice at all.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure mate. It’s just.. just right outside.”

All the tension G had previously held deflated, his face taking on a more relieved expression. Mumbo watched as G slid out of the bed, wobbling only a little as he stood on both feet. 

G grabbed the book off the bed, hobbling over to where Mumbo stood.

“Lead the way?”

Mumbo nodded, holding the door open for the avian. 

It’s going to be okay, Mumbo reasoned with himself, I probably won’t get stabbed in the back. He nervously glanced back at G, who was focused more on keeping himself upright than Mumbo himself.

“Right, just out here,” Mumbo mumbled. He opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. It was a shining summer day, and the warm sun felt good on Mumbo’s pale skin. He stretched his arms up, basking in the sun rays for a moment before glancing back at G.

G stood by the glass door. He looked unsure, maybe a little wary. Mumbo quirked up an eyebrow. What would he be nervous for? Surely the sun would feel good after being cooped up for so long?

“Are you uh.. are you sure it’s okay for me to be out here?”

Mumbo furrowed his brows. Why would it not..

Oh. 

G had been cooped up inside for a reason, Mumbo remembered. This season, he and Scar had based incredibly close to Impulse and Pearl in their little village they called Boatem. Mumbo had mentioned being worried about one of them coming to check on them during lockdown and finding G, so Scar had messaged the other Boatem members telling them Mumbo was incredibly sick and not to come over.

Impulse and Pearl had been worried initially, but Scar used his charm and got them to back off eventually, both hesitantly agreeing to leave the two alone.

“Oh. Oh! No, no, you’ll be fine. Impulse and Pearl were given strict orders not to come over, and nobody else would show up unannounced, so we’ll have no problems.”

G mouthed the unfamiliar names, then began following Mumbo towards the flower beds. Mumbo knelt down, sifting through the buds. There were all kinds, from alliums to dandelions to sunflowers, each working to make a beautiful sight.

Although it was in Scar’s base, the flowerbeds were entirely Mumbo’s. The two practically spent more time with each other than alone, so they set up small parts of themself in the other’s base. Scar had his own small library set-up in Mumbo’s base.

“Those are really pretty.” G commented. He was sitting on the plush grass, running a hand over the silky petals of a fully-bloomed poppy.

“Thank you. It’s funny, Scar doesn’t appreciate these flowers.” Mumbo said in reply, laughing to himself a little. G looked genuinely shocked, though. 

“Really?”

Mumbo nodded, planting in a few orchids where there were empty spots. “Yeah, crazy right? Says they take up space.” Mumbo leaned towards G conspiratorially. “I think he just says that because he can’t keep one alive, though.”

G let out a surprised laugh seemingly involuntarily. “No way, Scar?”

“Yes, yes.” Mumbo shook his head in faux sadness. “Give that man a million animals and they’ll be fed and pampered daily, but give him one plant? It’s dead in a week.”

G smiled, eyes gravitating towards the flower field again.

Mumbo paused, gloved hands halfway into the dirt he was digging out. He was having a good time, laughing, with G. Just an hour ago, he’d been shaking and nervous at the thought of dropping off a bowl of food. 

Scar was right, Mumbo realized. G maybe.. wasn’t that bad. Sneaking a glance at the avian, Mumbo observed him. He looked brighter than he did four days ago. His eyes were shining, brown, not purple, and his wings had shed almost every previously burnt feather.

“He’s not a Watcher,” Mumbo remembered Scar saying one day, “G doesn’t remember exactly how he joined them, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t a consensual thing.”

“You think he was taken?” Mumbo inquired.

Scar bit his lip. “Maybe. I don’t know. But there’s a part of me that thinks maybe.. maybe he used to be a player.”

Maybe Scar had something going with that train of thought.

In the sun, G looked.. pretty, maybe. Mumbo felt weird thinking that, but it was true. The sun highlighted his hair perfectly, and his eyes were full of life. If Mumbo was told he’d been a player this whole time, he might have believed it.

Mumbo shook himself out of his head, blushing in embarrassment for thinking of G like that. They barely knew each other, for voids sake.

G was still thumbing that red poppy, Mumbo noticed, and he spoke up before thinking any better of it.

“You can take it, if you want.”

G pulled away suddenly, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, confused eyes looking towards Mumbo.

“The poppy,” he elaborated, “you can pick it, if you’d like. I have more than enough.” 

G looked longingly down at the red flower, a conflicted look on his face. “But.. won’t it die?”

“Not if we put it in a glass filled with water.” 

Mumbo gestured back at the poppy. G didn’t move for a minute, before he carefully wrapped two fingers around the stem of it. Mumbo was pretty sure G was purposely being slow about it in case Mumbo changed his mind, so he turned back towards his own flowers and pointedly did not look back at G.

A moment later, he heard a small pop as G pulled the stem of the poppy out of the earth. Mumbo secretively peeked at G, watching as the avian cradled the flower to his chest delicately. He couldn’t help a small smile form on his face.

Voiddammit. Mumbo hated when Scar was right.

—*—*—*—

A day later found Mumbo moving throughout the kitchen, getting ingredients out for cookies. He’d had a massive craving for cookies lately, and Scar happened to have his delicious chocolate chip cookie recipe sitting out, so Mumbo thought he’d take a crack at it.

The smell of cookies baking in the oven apparently seemed as enthralling to G as it did to Mumbo, because the avian slowly stumbled out of Scar’s room, hand using the wall to help keep him upright.

“Hey, G,” Mumbo said. Ever since the previous day, when Mumbo and G had spent time in his flower garden, it was like every previous concern and insecurity melted away.

G nodded his head in return, sleep still present in his eyes. It was noon, so Mumbo assumed G slept in late.

“I smelled something.” G said, plopping down at the table. He looked around the room, trying to see what smelled so good.

Mumbo sat down across from G. “Yeah, I made some chocolate chip cookies! It’s Scar’s recipe, so they should be extra good.” G’s brown furrowed a little, but Mumbo didn’t have time to question why because his alarm went off. 

Hopping out of the seat, Mumbo turned off his alarm and pulled over mitts on. He walked over to the oven, opening it and savoring the delicious taste of freshly-made cookies.

Mumbo pulled out the tray, setting it on the stove. “I’d give it about three minutes, then the whole batch is ours!”

G still looked a little put off, strangely enough. Wouldn’t the promise of chocolate chip cookies be alluring to someone who’s been bedridden recently?

“G?” Mumbo questioned. G’s eyes slid over to him. “Do you not.. like chocolate chip cookies? I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, oh this is so pants-”

G’s eyes widened. “No, no, that isn’t.. I’ve just never.. had? A chocolate chip cookie before?”

Mumbo went slack jawed. G hadn’t ever.. had a chocolate chip cookie before?

“You haven’t?” His voice came out higher and louder than he’d meant, but it didn’t seem to bother G too much, who just shook his head.

“The uh. The Watchers didn’t really do sweets or anything.” A bit of hesitancy was put on the word Watcher.

Mumbo did not allow himself to think before he walked to the tray, plucked two cookies off, and set one down in front of G.

“Trust me,” Mumbo said, bringing his own cookie up to him mouth, “it’s so good.” Since Mumbo’s mouth was so full of pastry, It ended up coming out more like “ifs ‘o ‘ood” 

G tentatively picked up the cookie, the edges of it crumbling off. He opened his mouth, put it in, and chewed for a moment.

Immediately, his face lit up. “Oh my void,” G said, shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth. Mumbo chuckled.

“It’s so good, how have I never had one before!” Mumbo passed G another cookie, which he greedily took and ate.

“I told you, Scar’s recipe is unbeatable. Now everytime you eat another cookie, you’ll just be missing these ones.”

G and Mumbo continued to chew on cookies together, slowly working their way through the pan. 

It was nice, for Mumbo. He hadn’t really interacted with anyone- besides Scar- like this before. 

Five days since he’d essentially kidnapped G, and Mumbo found himself making his third ever friend.

—*—*—*—

The next morning, Mumbo woke up to the sound of glass crashing and swears next door. G.

He flew out of the guest bedroom, slamming the door to Scar’s room open. 

The sight wasn’t pretty.

G was sitting in the middle of the room, a broken lampshade laying on the floor next to him. His eyes were wide, looking at the wall in front of him and cradling a hand to his chest.

“Wha- what happened?” Mumbo’s voice came out higher than he meant too. G didnt startle like Mumbo had expected him to. In fact, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at the wall with that haunted look on his face.

“G?” Mumbo slowly crept closer to the avian, making calculated steps. He didn’t want to accidentally startle G, but he needed to see what was wrong.

Mumbo knelt down, ghosting a hand over G’s shoulder. “Is there.. something I can do?”

“I'm not a Watcher anymore.” The voice was blank, void of any emotions. G didn’t stop staring at the wall.

Mumbo startled. “I know, G. It’s okay.”

Void, Mumbo was not equipped to handle this. Comforting and talking about feelings and whatnot was Scar’s thing. Never ever Mumbo’s.

Mumbo didn’t say anything for a minute. Neither did G.

“Maybe we should get you back on the bed.”

G nodded, but Mumbo had a feeling he hadn’t actually processed the suggestion. Softly, Mumbo tugged on G’s upper arm, and the avian lifted with no resistance. Mumbo guided him back to the bed, carefully sidestepping the broken glass bits. 

Mumbo lightly pushed G into the bed. G still had a blank look. Hopefully G would fall asleep, and Mumbo could ask what happened in the morning. Yeah. Yeah, that seemed like a good enough plan.

When Mumbo went to pull away, G’s hand rocketed out and locked onto his suit sleeve. “Do you need something G?”

For the first time, G’s eyes drifted to Mumbo, but it felt like he wasn’t quite seeing Mumbo.

“I had a dream.” G said, hand tightening on his sleeve. 

“Yeah?” Mumbo promoted. 

Silence for a moment, then, “I saw someone in it.”

“Who.. who was it?”

G’s eyes started to tear up. No, no, Mumbo said the wrong thing, he did not know how to handle crying-

“I can’t remember. I can’t remember.” G’s hand let go of Mumbo’s sleeve, instead fisting the blanket beside him.

The sobs built up a little more. “I don’t know. I saw someone and I know I used to know them, but the Watchers made it so I don’t remember, but I’m not a Watcher anymore so why can’t I remember?” G was clearly getting frustrated, and Mumbo knew he needed to step it.

Mumbo sat on the bed, placing his hand over G’s. “You’re not a Watcher anymore, but that doesn’t mean what they did to you is immediately going to go away.”

G was still crying, and Mumbo wasn’t even sure if the avian was actually listening, but he continued talking.

“When you’re better, me and Scar will help you get your memories back. I’m sure there’s a way. And then we’ll help you find the person from your dreams. I promise.”

G wiped his eyes. “I’ll- I’m gonna remember that.

That you- you promised.” 

So he was listening, at least towards the end.

“Yeah, G. We won’t let you down.” 

G burrowed into the bed, his eyes began fluttering shut. Mumbo supposed a breakdown like that could easily sap the energy out of someone.

Quietly, Mumbo got off the bed. He closed the door, clicking it shut. He walked back to the guest bedroom, mind moving at a hundred miles a second.  

Mumbo was growing content. Domestic, even. He’d forgotten about the rest of Hermitcraft, who were probably all still paranoid and afraid on lockdown. While Mumbo had been bonding and hanging out with the ex-Watcher, the rest of his friends were still under the impression a real Watcher was haunting the server.

Mumbo wasn’t sure what would happen in the future. They couldn’t hide G forever, but selfishly, Mumbo wished he could. Scar wouldn’t mind, he was sure.

Unfortunately, in Mumbo’s experience, things never seemed to go his way. But until the unpredictable future came knocking, Mumbo would do what he could.

Chapter Text

Scar shoved into his base, a smile already plastered on his face. It was a shining afternoon, and Scar purposely hadn’t told Mumbo he’d be back today. It was going to be a surprise!

Granted, Mumbo probably wouldn’t appreciate the surprise return, but the man needed a little excitement in his life.

He’d have to profusely apologize to G. It had been a last minute trip, but Scar couldn’t leave Cub hanging. 

Poor G had probably spent the whole time cooped up alone in Scar’s bedroom. With Mumbo’s intense distrust, he probably hadn’t done more than give G his meals.

Scar mentally sighed. He wished he could figure out a way to assuage Mumbo’s concerns, but it was like he was stuck believing that G was still as dangerous as a Watcher, when in truth G hadn’t even laid a finger on Scar.

“Honey, I’m home!” Scar loudly sing-songed, hoping to draw Mumbo out of wherever he was hiding. Only-

“Hey, Scar! We weren’t expecting you.” Mumbo spoke.

Huh.

There was Mumbo, sitting amiably at the kitchen table with G, who gave a polite smile and wave. Scar blinked, shocked. Maybe Scar should’ve put some faith in Mumbo, because he was wholly convinced the mustached man wouldn’t unnecessarily go anywhere near G.

“Well this is unexpected!l Scar smiled, plopping his bag on the table between Mumbo and G and sitting down himself, head resting in his hands.

Mumbo coughed a little. “We.. spent some time together.” G nodded in agreement. “It was nice,” the avian added.

“So then, you’re feeling better G? You weren’t walking around when I left, but look at you! All the way in the kitchen.”

G let out a small laugh. “Yeah, yeah, it was about a day after you left. Mumbo took me to the small garden out back.” 

Scar dramatically sighed, hanging his head. “I’ll never understand you gardening types. Never!” 

“How’d the thing with Cub go?” Mumbo questioned.

Scar perked his head up. “Great! I mostly helped with all the exterior stuff while Cub did everything indoors. He didn’t want me near his redstone for some reason, can you believe it?”

Mumbo snorted. “Really? With your track record? Wonder why he wouldn’t let you touch it.” 

G tilted his head. “Redstone? That’s the red electrical stuff, right.”

Mumbo nodded. “Right. And Scar here is not allowed near anybody’s redstone without very careful supervision.”

“You break somebody’s contraption one time..” Scar solemnly shook his head as Mumbo let out a squawk. “One time? Mate, you’ve probably broken mine alone a hundred times!” Scar waved Mumbo off, instead turning to look at G.

“So, anything else exciting happen while I was away?” 

G looked up in thought. “I mean, I think I’m almost entirely healed up. Look!” The avian happily shook his wings. “All the burned feathers have fallen off!” 

It made Scar smile to see G look so bright. There was a direct contrast to a week ago, when G had been so guarded and hurt, to now. 

“The feathers look great G, wow. Such a nice shade of red, too.” Scar commented. G’s cheeks flushed, and he shrunk away a little, muttering out a small thanks.

Scar was getting ready to poke a little more fun at G, but his comm buzzed before he could. He pulled it out of his belt, seeing a message from Xisuma.

<Xisumavoid> Hey Scar! Are you and Mumbo still staying together at your base?

Scar typed out a quick, casual response.

<GoodtimeswithScar> Sure are, X! Something we can help with?

<Xisumavoid> Good. Me and Doc are going to come over and check up with you two. Be there soon.

Scar dropped his comm on the table, startling both Mumbo and G.

“Uh, Mumbo? We might have a bit of a problem.” The brunette slid his communicator over to Mumbo, who looked up at Scar in question before picking it up. Scar watched as Mumbo’s face paled slightly at reading the messages.

“Is there something wrong?” G asked, wings scrunching together in anticipation.

Mumbo and Scar shared a look. “So, don’t freak out.” 

In response, G made a face that clearly said he was fully ready to freak out.

“Our admin messaged. Him and one of our other friends is going to come over. It just sounds like a quick check up, though, so I don’t think they know you’re here!” Scar quickly said the last part, seeing as G’s eyes were almost comically getting larger as Scar continued talking.

Before Scar could continue assuaging G’s worries, there was a knock at the door. Mumbo swore, kicking up from the table. 

“Scar? Mumbo?” Xisuma’s polite voice filtered into the room. Scar distantly thinks G might’ve stopped breathing at some point. 

“Just- just a second X!” Scar yelled, motioning to Mumbo with sharp hand gestures to go hide G. Mumbo immediately complied, grabbing G’s wrist and pulling him towards the back, the frightened avian easily going along.

Scar patted himself down, took a breath, plastered on a smile, and opened the door. X and Doc’s large frames filled the door. It would be intimidating if Scar wasn’t incredibly familiar with the two.

“Hey, hey! Long time no see! Come in, come in.” Scar opened the door wider, pointing the two towards the now unoccupied table. 

“Is Mumbo here? We have things to talk about.” Doc said, always one to get straight to the point. Scar forced the smile to stay on his face. If they had even a suspicion G was here, they’d already be tearing the place apart, Scar reasoned with himself.

“Here! I’m here!” Mumbo scurried into the kitchen, fixing his cuffs. Scar turned away from Xisuma and Doc, using his eyes to ask if G was hidden. Mumbo gave his affirmative in the form of a small thumbs up, and Scar mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Right then!” Scar clapped his hands together, taking a seat opposite of their guests. “What exactly is it you wanted to talk about?”

“We know it’s been.. hectic, on the server lately,” Xisuma started. “But we have reason to believe the Watcher left.” 

Well, Scar thought, not entirely true. Outwardly, he cocked his head. He saw Mumbo shift in his peripheral. “Well, that's great! And you’re entirely sure?” 

Doc spoke next, pulling something out of his lab coat’s pocket. “Certain enough to lift lockdown. This,” He shook the device a little, “can detect anomalies, to simplify. It’s how we originally figured out a Watcher was even on the server.”

Mumbo seemed fascinated by the device, but it just made Scar sweat a little. He prayed his smile wasn’t as shaky as it felt.

“So we’re in the clear? No more Watchers on the server?” 

Xisuma nodded. “We hope. Er, there was actually one more thing we wanted to ask you.” 

Mumbo tensed up. Void, Scar swore, Mumbo is a horrible liar. This could all go wrong very, very quickly if Scar didn’t proceed carefully.

“What would that be?” Play dumb.

“A couple days ago, we got an alert of a large anomaly. And the coordinates were.. here. At your base, Scar.”

Time seemed to freeze. Right. G had attacked Scar the first day they’d brought them here. He’d used his Watcher magic. Of course Doc had a device to detect that.

“We didn’t want to immediately bombarde you without anything concrete, so we asked Impulse and Pearl if you two had been doing anything, er, weird, over here. But they had been told that Mumbo was pretty sick and hadn’t otherwise had contact with you.”

Mumbo was actively sweating, Scar was pretty sure. Scar loved the man, he did, but he was absolutely going to give the whole operation away if Scar didn’t figure out a plan now.

“He has been! Only recently got better. Maybe the coordinates came out wrong? Because we really haven’t left my base since lockdown, besides my thing with Cub.” The words came tumbling out of Scar’s mouth involuntarily. 

Luckily, Scar’s tone must’ve sounded convincing, because Xisuma slowly nodded, taking Scar’s words in. “I.. suppose.” He acquiesced. Scar let out a cheer inside his head. “The anomaly detector isn’t of any official design, so it could’ve come out wrong..” 

Mumbo, for the first time, spoke up. “Yep, everything’s been all, totally normal here. No, uh, no Watcher sightings from us! I’m sure he just left.”

It sounded robotic, but Scar prayed X and Doc wrote it off as typical Mumbo behavior. Xisuma seemed to, getting up from the table. “Of course. I really am sorry for bothering you guys. Lockdown is officially lifted, but if you see anything weird, report it to me, okay?”

“Will do, X! Thanks for stopping by!” Scar hopped up, opening the door for X. His eyes drifted to Doc, though, who had not gotten up from the table.

Doc’s eyes were boring into Mumbo, eyes narrowed and gaze intense. Mumbo was still as a statue, muscles not moving an inch under the creeper hybrids intense glare.

Clearly, Doc knew something was up. Scar had to deescalate, now.

“Mumbo!” He called, causing the man’s head to snap towards him. “Could you see if Jellie is in my bedroom? It’s about time I fed her.”

Mumbo jumped at the opportunity to leave Doc’s sight. He jerkily nodded, mumbling out rambles on the way. “Yep, yes, right on that, yep..” 

Doc sat for a beat more before finally lifting himself from the table, slowly making his way out of Scar’s base. Scar held onto the door tightly, counting down the seconds until the two were gone.

Before stepping out the door, Doc grabbed the wrist Scar was holding the door open with. “Scar,” he rumbled. Scar forced a smile to his face, trying to continue to play casual, continue acting the dumb, doesn’t-know-any-better character.

He was failing though, and while Xisuma had bought it, Doc had certainly not.

“Yes, Doc?”

“You wouldn’t purposely do anything to harm the server, right?”

That had Scar stopping for a moment. His demeanor slipped a little, becoming more genuine than it’d been before. 

“No, Doc. I would never do that.” He replied, the first completely honest sentence he’d said today.

Doc scanned the brunette’s face for a moment, before deciding he found what he was looking for. With a nod, the creeper hybrid slipped out the door and Scar closed it.

Resting his head against the cool wood, Scar allowed his smile to slip and his posture to deflate a little.

Taking in G was a good choice, and Scar didn’t regret doing it. Mumbo certainly didn’t, either. Scar just wasn’t sure if the rest of the server would be as amiable to the idea. 

The truth of the matter was, Scar couldn’t hide G away in his base forever. He knew he had time before the future came toppling the tentative peace he’d built up this past week, but..

Maybe he had less time than he’d thought.

—*—*—*—

Grian had not moved an inch in the wardrobe he’d been shoved inside of. Mumbo had been panickedly looking around the guest room for the first thing to hide Grian inside of, and the wardrobe had apparently been the best option.

He’d initially tried listening into the conversation, but he was in the farthest room from the kitchen and sounds were muffled from the thick wood of the wardrobe. Instead, he focused on regulating his breathing and calming himself down.

Mumbo and Scar were out there, lying to their admin and covering for Grian. Grian, who just a week ago ripped the server’s code, fell into their world, and attacked Scar. They hadn’t even known Grian wasn’t a Watcher with every intention or hurting them when they’d decided to bring him into their home.

For the first couple of days, it made his head spin. But Grian had come to realize that that was just how Scar was. Entirely too trusting with enough kindness to go around the world. Mumbo was much the same, after he’d gotten over his initial fear.

The closet door opening broke Grian out of his thoughts. There stood Scar, a relieved smile on his face with Mumbo right behind, looking on the verge of a panic attack.

“Did.. did everything go alright?” Grian asked, climbing out of the closet. Mumbo and Scar shared a look, which did nothing to make Grian feel better.

“As good as it could’ve gone.” Scar eventually settled on. Mumbo minutely nodded. “You’re safe for now, though, and that’s what matters.” 

“Okay. Yeah, okay, that’s.. that’s good.” The words sounded dull even to Grian’s own ears. Scar’s face pinched in worry. 

“G? Is everything okay?”

Grian bit his cheek. He was still getting used to the whole “being vulnerable” thing. “I just.. I’m not causing you guys trouble, right?”

It was Mumbo who spoke now, “Oh, G, no! Really, we have more than enough resources and things, you’re no trouble at all!”

That eased Grian a little. It hadn’t fully crossed his mind until recently how much Scar and Mumbo were giving up for him.

“What about your friends?” He pushed a little more.

“It’s.. true that we can’t keep avoiding them.” Scar admitted. “But if we do hang out with them, we’ll just make sure it’s not at my base. You’re not a burden, G.”

And that. That was new.

With the Watchers, Grian was always doing something wrong. 

You’re weak Xelqua. You show too much emotion, Xelqua. You’re taking up space Xelqua, get your act together. All of which would usually be accompanied by a slap or kick of something equally as unpleasant.

It was so much different here, than with the Watchers. It was better.

You guys didn’t have to help me, or lie to your admin for me. It’s- I appreciate it. A lot. Just- thank you. Thank you.” Grian said. Scar’s face brightened up, and Mumbo’s softened.

Scar settled a hand in Grian’s hair, a comfortable weight. “You don’t have to thank us, G! We’d do it again. That’s just who we are.” Scar shot a wink at Grian, which made a blush rise up to his face.

Blushing. Over Scar. Void, maybe Grian was going a little crazy.

Grian smiled though, ducking out of Scar’s hand. “I’m going to wash up, I think. Is that fine?”

“Sure is!” Mumbo replied. “I’ll get started on dinner.”

Selfishly, Grian found he really, really, didn’t want to leave this place.

—*—*—*—

Scar couldn’t fall asleep that night. By all means, he should’ve been celebrating the fact that G was still hidden away and safe, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from moving forwards to the future. 

The future that was steadily creeping closer.

Scar had been sleeping on a cot in the corner of his bedroom since G took the bed. He didn’t mind it, even denying G’s suggestion of switching.

The brunette glanced up at G’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, breaths rising and falling at an even pace. A part of Scar wanted to brush the bangs from his forehead, to hold his hand.

He didn’t, of course. Instead, he softly slipped out of his cot, bare feet tapping against the hardwood floors. He left his bedroom, making for the kitchen.

His base was quiet at this time of night. Just past 1. The only sound was a distant clock ticking somewhere deeper in the base, and the only light was the moonlight filtering in through his glass doors.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A whispered voice said. Scar startled for a moment before his eyes landed on Mumbo, who was standing at the stove with a tea kettle. Scar shook his head in response, plopping down at the kitchen table and rubbing his eyes.

“No. You?” 

Similarly, Mumbo shook his head. Scar watched as Mumbo grabbed two mugs, poured them both full of tea, and then slid one to Scar. Gratefully, Scar smiled at his friend. Mumbo always knew what he needed.

Silence settled over the two, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was just Scar and Mumbo, bathing in each others presence in the early, early morning.

“What’s got you down?” It was Mumbo who spoke first. Scar lifted his head a little. He clenched his fists tighter against the mug.

“The future.” Was all he said. 

The future. The next steps. The plan. It was all playing on repeat in Scar’s mind. He could no longer enjoy the present when there was such a looming future ahead of him. 

Mumbo frowned, his posture deflating. “Me too. I just don’t know what to do.” His voice sounded helpless, which was about how Scar felt too.

“I think Doc knows something’s up.” Scar offered. Mumbo just buried his face in his hands. “Void. Of course he does. I’m such an awful liar, I gave us all away.”

Scar tsked. “Now now, none of that Mumbo. It’s Doc, he was gonna figure out something was fishy either way. You only helped a little.”

Mumbo groaned, but didn’t argue any further.

“When G’s healed,” Mumbo started, and Scar froze. He knew exactly where Mumbo was headed with this train of thought. It was something Scar tried desperately to ignore in favor of looking on the bright side. 

Unfortunately, it seemed unavoidable now. 

“What exactly do we do with him? He can’t stay here, hidden forever. The seasons almost coming to a close anyway. But he’s.. he’s a person, Scar. He’ll need to do more than just play board games with us.”

Mumbo was entirely right, of course. He always was.

Scar had allowed himself to be selfish in keeping G here, hanging out and growing to like him as a friend. He’d forced Mumbo to stay with him and help G, he’d ignored his friends, he’d neglected his base.

Every reality Scar had pushed away was tumbling back into him, and it was suffocating.

“I don’t know.”

The words were quiet, Scar himself barely hearing them. He thought he might cry if he wasn’t so tired.

“Maybe we can.. maybe we can smuggle him away? Hide him in a bag and then drop him off in a different world.” 

That wouldn’t be safe for him, Scar thought distantly. He didn’t have the energy to say it out loud. The Watchers would find him.

“Or, or maybe he can do his Watcher stuff again, rip another hole through the code?”

Scar unceremoniously dropped his head onto the table, startling Mumbo. His tea splashed the side of the cup. 

“S-Scar?”

“I don’t wanna give him up, Mumbo.” That was Scar’s piercing truth.

Mumbo gave no response for a moment, then, “You know I don’t either. I like him, Scar. A lot. In more ways than I’m capable of saying. So why not this-”

Mumbo leaned forward, and Scar lifted his head. They were only a few inches apart, now. Scar had to stop his tired brain from wanting to drift down to his lips.

“The Hermits are worried about a Watcher, but G’s not a Watcher. Not really, anyway. So why don’t we prove his playerhood to the others?”

A smile began etching itself onto Scar’s face. “I think I like where your heads at.”

Mumbo nodded quickly a few times. “We can bring in some people, maybe Impulse and Pearl? And let them meet him.”

If everything went right, Scar realized, and maybe he was being too optimistic but if this plan works-

“Eventually, the Hermits will see G for who he is. And I think we could convince them to vote him onto the server.”

I won’t have to let go of G.

Chapter Text

Mumbo put a hand above his head to shield his eyes from the sun. It wasn’t so hot he was sweating, but more of a pleasant hum of warmth against his pale skin.

For the first time in what felt like years- but was just over a week- Mumbo had begun working on his mega base again. 

Before the whole Watcher.. thing, Mumbo had finished building the high walls of his stone chair-looking frame. His next step had been putting colorful little houses on the top, and looking at them now, he was rather proud.

Mumbo had never really considered himself much of a builder, always sticking to redstone, but he decided to challenge himself a little this season. He couldn’t help the pride swelling in his gut.

Placing the blocks was a much needed distraction from his mind's constant yelling of the future. He loved G, and he wasn’t the issue, but the more days that passed of Mumbo doing nothing in Scar’s base made him more twitchy. He had to start exercising his brain again, getting actual work done.

Void, Mumbo hadn’t touched a redstone contraption in over a week.

Mumbo wiped the sweats off his forehead, suit sleeves pushed up to his elbow.

A whistle caught Mumbo by surprise, and he turned around. It was Pearl, black jacket tied around her waist and wide smile on her face. Mumbo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend either.

“Mumbo! This looks great mate, you've been working hard since lockdown lifted I see!” Her familiar Australian accent was like music to Mumbo’s ears.

He had missed his fellow Boatem members.

“Yeah, yeah, it feels great not to be stuck indoors anymore. I’ve just had this itch to build lately, you know?”

Pearl nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, me too! So I guess this means you’re feeling lots better, right?”

Mumbo frowned in confusion for a moment, before remembering. That’s the lie Scar came up with so we wouldn’t have to deal with Pearl or Impulse coming over.

In hindsight, he felt a little guilty, but it was necessary. 

“All better over here! I guess that time alone really helped.”

Pearl snicked, and Mumbo tilted his head.

“What?” He questioned, and Pearl got a mischievous look on her face. And with Pearl, that was never good.

“Well. Almost alone, yeah?” 

Mumbo narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, Scar was there-”

“Ah-ha!” Pearl shouted, interrupting Mumbo’s sentence. She pointed a finger in Mumbo’s face, who went a little cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“I knew it! I knew you had it in you, oh Impulse so owes me 20 bucks!” 

Mumbo was, admittedly, thoroughly confused.

“Uh?” Was his brilliant response. Pearl patted his back. “Aw, you don’t need to cover anymore Mumbo. But it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone else until you’re ready!”

What. Mumbo thinks he might’ve stopped breathing. This was bad. Pearl knew? How’d she know? Had Xisuma voiced his suspicions to her, and she put together the pieces? Was it possible that more people knew? Void, G was in danger-

“-I mean, starting a new relationship is scary, I get it!”

Mumbo’s thoughts broke to a sudden halt. He stared at his friend dumbfounded for a moment. Her eyes looked at him knowingly, expectantly.

All Mumbo could manage in response was a strangled, “What?”

“You and Scar!” Pearl said brightly. “Really Mumbo, I was wondering when you were gonna make a move.”

Mumbo thought he was gonna faint.

“Oh no, we- Scar and I- we’re not- that’d be silly-” The words seemed stuck to Mumbo’s throat. Did the world hate him this much?

Mumbo took a breath. He stared straight into Pearl’s blue eyes. 

“Pearl, Scar and I are not dating.”

Pearl went slack jawed.

“Frankly, I’m not sure why you thought we were.”

His brown-haired friend began sputtering, previous confidence sapping out of her. Mumbo continued, “I mean, what did you think we were doing in there?”

Mumbo thinks he heard Pearl mutter out a “kissing” but opted, for his sanity, to ignore that.

“So you and Scar really.. aren’t together? You were actually sick?” She sounded incredulous, like this was the bottom possibility for his and Scar’s isolation.

“Yes!” 

“Huh.” Pearl said dumbly. She stared at Mumbo, who, very confused, stared back. 

“You don’t even.. have a crush?”

“No.”

Honestly, what was Pearl thinking? Did all the Hermits think that he and Scar were-. No. No no no. Sure, sometimes Mumbo stared a little too long at his friend’s face, melting into his brown eyes. And he thought Scar’s fondness towards cats and reading was cute, sure, and sometimes his eyes really wanted to drift down to his lips, and-

No. Void, no, what was Mumbo thinking?

“You thought I.. had a crush on Scar? Who else thought that?”

Pearl looked a little guilty, at least. “Do you want the honest answer to that?”

“You know what? No, actually, I don't. In fact, I am going to go work on my base more and forget this ever happened.” Mumbo promptly turned around and walked a few steps away.

“Aww, Mumbo..” Pearl sighed overdramatically, kicking her foot in the dirt. “I wonder how Scar will take the rejection.”

Once again, Mumbo came to a screeching halt. “He- what?”

Mumbo could feel Pearl’s smile get wider, even when facing away. “Oh yeah. He’s just had the biggest crush on you for ages.”

“What? No.” Mumbo denied, “If Scar- liked me, I’d know.” 

It was true. Scar was always so forward about his feelings. Whenever he didn’t like something, he loudly complained about it. Whenever he did like something, it was all he could talk about.

Plus, Scar was naturally flirty, it was just how he was. Always winking before flying away from conversations, making slightly inappropriate jokes, telling others how good they looked. 

(Nevermind that he seemed to do it the most to Mumbo, that he always seemed to look at Mumbo’s reaction to his passes more closely. That was just Mumbo overthinking things. Obviously. 

Right?)

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true! Try talking to him. You never know.”

“No. I’m not going to- no. It was nice seeing you Pearl, but I’m going to get back to my build now.”

Pearl reciprocated his goodbyes and flew off with her elytra. Void, Mumbo had forgotten how pestering his friends could be.

Mumbo shook his head. He had other things to worry about. Namely, finishing the town-portion of his build.

—*—*—*—

Grian sat deflated at the kitchen table, watching Scar pace back and forth. He’d been doing that for a while. The brunette was dedicated to helping Grian get his memories back, and had been firing off ideas for half an hour now.

That didn’t mean the ideas were good.

“Maybe if we hang you upside down, the memories will flow into your brain?”

Grian groaned. He appreciated Scar’s help, really, but he was persistent in all the wrong ways.

“Or! Maybe, if we hit you hard enough, like a TV remote, they’ll come back?” 

“I think that would just give me more brain damage.”

Scar frowned. “I guess you’re right. What if we-”

“Scar.” Grian cut the man off before he could suggest throwing the avian up in the air, or something. Really, only Scar could come up with the silliest ideas and genuinely think they might work.

“The Watchers used their magic to take them away. Throwing me around like a ragdoll isn’t going to bring them back.”

Finally, Scar stopped pacing. “Well, you were a Watcher. You still have the magic, don’t you?” 

Grian shook his head. “A much more powerful Watcher took them away. I was just a.. a convert. I don’t have the magic to give them back.”

Scar cocked his head. “A convert?”

“It’s like..” Grian thought about how best to phrase it. “I wasn’t born a Watcher. I used to be a player. It’s why I reverted back to looking like one after leaving the Watcher domain.

“Their magic was what was keeping me a Watcher. The third eye, purple wings, all that. I don’t know too much, but I know that I was an.. experiment, essentially. The first player to be transformed into a Watcher. It just.. didn’t stick, when I left. Thankfully.”

A warm hand suddenly covered Grian’s own. The blonde looked up, meeting Scar’s sad looking brown eyes. “I’m sorry G. That’s horrible. You probably had a family, friends. They shouldn’t have been allowed to take that away.”

Grian clenched his fist. “The Watchers took everything from me. I..” He trailed off, swallowing around a lump in his throat. Scar, patient as ever, quietly waited for him to continue.

“I think I loved someone.” Grian admitted, the words spoken softly.

He’d had a dream last night. The second dream he’d had since crashing into Hermitcraft. But while the first had been disastrous and left Grian reeling, this one was peaceful and serene, and maybe.. maybe a little familiar, if he thought about it enough.

There was a field, full of lush grass and a bright sun. Grian was laying in it, feeling the cool earth beneath his fingers. Rationally, Grian knew this was a dream. But it felt so real. The grass was slightly damp, sticking to his red sweater, but not uncomfortable.

What seemed to be a pair of glasses rested on Grian’s face. The feeling of them on his nose didn’t feel weird like he would’ve thought, but the weight of them there felt.. right almost. Which was strange, because Grian had always had perfect eyesight.

(Or at least, the Watchers made sure he did)

Most noticeably, Grian did not have his red wings. It was a strange feeling, to be without two limbs that had grown to be a comfortable weight against his back.

Why didn’t he have his wings?

A voice broke him out of his trance. Grian turned his head to see a figure running towards him. He frowned. This wasn’t right. The figure was still speaking, rambling on about something, but all the words sounded like they came from a different language. Their whole body was blurry, and even squinting Grian couldn’t make out what, exactly, they looked like.

That didn’t stop the feeling of calm safety love from washing over Grian the second the figure plopped down next to Grian, knees knocking together. 

Grian had an indescribable urge to tackle this person into a hug, to say I love you I love you over and over again, to hold them forever and never let go.

But he didn’t, because ultimately, he didn’t know who this was. 

The figure stopped, seemingly asking Grian something. Hesitantly, he nodded his head, which seemed to be the correct answer because the figure began happily chattering away in that weird language again.

When Grian thought about it, this felt too real to be a dream. But what else..

He turned his head, taking the figure in. They were no less blurry, but Grian could make out vague colors if he tried hard enough. A lot of black, a bit of white and a small splash of red. The figure was tall, clearly. 

Once again, Grian’s instincts shouted at him to get closer, that he was safe and this was familiar and he was comfortable with this person.

A memory.

This was.. this was a memory.

The figure was someone from Grian’s past, from before the Watchers. The word “friend” didn’t connect quite right with the feelings running through Grian’s body.

The world was starting to get fuzzy, slowly disappearing from Grian’s sight.

He didn’t have much time left here.

Quickly, he grabbed the figure’s shirt, fingers shoving through the fog-like texture until they gripped onto it. 

“I know you. I know you, right? You’re- you’re my friend, right?”

The figure, still in that stupid indistinguishable language, grabbed onto Grian’s wrists. He said something, but Grian couldn’t understand. 

“Speak normally! Please I need- I want to.. please.”

The white was encroaching on Grian. His fists clenched tighter in the shirt. “Please. Who are you to me?” Tears were beginning to spring into his eyes.

Suddenly, the hands moved from his wrists to his face. The hands were soft, gently wiping away the tears from Grian’s face. Grian’s body instantly melted, and he finally realized.

Love. He loved this person. He was sure of it. 

“I loved you, didn’t I? Did you love me too?”

The figure said something, but of course, Grian couldn’t make it out. The hands continued to cradle his face.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember you. I- I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m going- I’m trying to- I want to remember you. I’m going to remember you.”

The white had finally reached Grian and his figure. They were the only two people in this blank void of a universe, trapped in a memory Grian doesn’t remember having. 

He wonders, distantly, if his figure dreams about this moment sometimes, too.

Grian closes his eyes. He’ll be awake, soon, but at least he can bask in this figure's warm embrace for a moment more. He desperately hopes he’ll remember this dream, this memory, when he wakes up.

“It’s okay, G. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.” 

Grian’s eyes snapped open. His figure. It spoke. Something about the voice felt familiar, the accent similar to Grian’s own but soothing and precise with the words. The white has taken almost every part of the blurry person in front of him, save for his face. He feels the last of his figure’s fingers fade into the white.

“Wait- no, wait don’t go, stop-”

Grian looks up where his figure’s eyes should be, and he sees-

Soft, kind, brown eyes. They’re so full of unbridled and genuine love, pointed directly at Grian. He can’t believe he was ever able to forget this, not when these eyes cause his heart to beat faster and a blush rise to his face and he wants to look into these eyes for the rest of time-

All too quickly, his figure is entirely taken over by the white, and it’s just Grian in a colorless expanse, all alone again.

And then he snapped awake, heart still swelling with love and cheeks still warm from where those hands held him.

Grian had never longed for his old memories as bad as he did now. It wasn’t fair, being given a piece of himself that he’d been missing for so long, only for it to be cruelly pulled away from him. For him to be allowed to learn he loved someone, but not know their face or name or favorite voiddamned color.

For the rest of the night, Grian sobbed silently so as to not wake up Scar (Not that it would have mattered, Scar slept like the dead). 

Grian came back to the present slowly, noticing Scar’s hand rubbing circles into his now upturned palm.

“Sorry I- I’m not sure what.. what happened.”

Scar smiled, softly and with love that reminded Grian of the figure in his dream. 

At some point, Grian had begun to associate Scar’s smile with patience and kindness and fun.

“I think you just dissociated for a minute, that’s all. We don’t have to keep talking about it, if you want. I know it’s hard, trying to remember things that you can’t, well.. remember.”

Scar’s fingers never stopped tracing his palm, and Grian felt grounded by it. 

“No, that’s not it. I just- I had a dream. I think it might’ve been a memory? But the whole thing was blurry and hard to make out, it just.. felt really, really, familiar.”

Scar’s fingers paused and he sat, considering. “Maybe, since you’re out of reach of the Watcher’s magic, your memories are slowly coming back?”

Grian’s wings spread out as his body relaxed. Scar was.. he was probably right. The hypothetical box that held his memories was slowly unlocking, and bits were slipping through the crack.

That was a good sign. It was! But Grian found himself growing impatient. It’d taken over a week for one small, blurry memory. Grian wasn’t patient enough for that. He wanted to know, he wanted to be himself again.

Scar apparently read the frustration on Grian’s face. “It’s gonna be okay, G. Let’s take a break for today, and tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways to maybe make them come back quicker, okay? But today was a start!”

Minutely, Grian nodded. Scar pushed up from the table, sparing a glance at Grian before heading towards the back of his base.

Feelings, Grian decided, were too much work.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo sat underneath one of Scar’s custom trees, sketching out a redstone design on a blueprint page. After his.. conversation (interrogation?) with Pearl, he did the only thing he could think of to take his mind off of it- redstoning.

The ideas, which had been building up for some time, flowed out of his brain and on the page, coming out in neat lines and scribbled notes.

Mumbo had always had a mechanical brain, ever since he was a kid. He thought in numbers and logic and measurements. 

(“See, that’s why it’s good you have me. You supply the boring mechanics, and I make it fun and creative!” Mumbo could hear an achingly distant voice say, just out of reach. It was always just out of reach).

This particular sketch was for an iron farm, which he had yet to build this season. He’d need some for the top portion of his base, and he supposed he could sell the extra to the other Hermits. 

Mumbo tapped his pencil against the paper, wondering how best to plan this out. Would a small, underground one be better? Or a larger one placed somewhere away from Boatem? Maybe-

“What’re you working on?”

Mumbo let out a very manly scream, pencil flying from his hand and blueprints falling from his lap. Above him, hanging upside down from a branch, was G, sandy hair hanging downwards and away from his face.

“G! You terrified me, oh goodness, I just about had a heart attack!” 

G, of course, looked not apologetic at all. Void, Scar was a bad influence. The avian swung a little, Mumbo tracking the gentle back and forth motion of his body. He collected his blueprints, swiping the small bits of dirt off of them.

“I’m making plans for an iron farm.” Mumbo said. G hummed, Mumbo’s cue to continue.

“There’s a couple ways to make one, but I’m quite sure which to go with. I’d prefer not to make any type of manual one, because those take a long time. It gets annoying to make one with an iron golem, though, because villagers are a pain to get. 

“Plus, I haven’t perfected an actual redstone design. Impulse has a pretty good one, I think, but it uses a lot of comparators and a long redstone line which can be annoying to get signal strengths out of-”

G’s scrunched his face up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

(“Mumbo, this makes no sense. How does any of this even work?” 

“Hey, you asked to hear about it!”

“But I didn’t know it’d be so boring!”)

Mumbo laughed a little. Scar at least pretended to understand whenever Mumbo went on his redstone rambles. G was more similar to-

“Redstone really isn’t as confusing as Scar makes it out to be, I promise.”

G flipped up to sit on the branch, then dropped down next to Mumbo. “I don’t think I was a redstoner before the whole Watcher thing.”

Mumbo hummed. “Probably not. Most people don’t have the patience to learn it.”

“Do you think you would’ve, like.. made it big?” G questioned, somewhat distractedly. He had his own sketchbook in hand that Mumbo hadn’t noticed before, drawing something Mumbo couldn’t quite see.

“In the redstone world?” 

G nodded his affirmation, aggressively erasing something on his page.

Mumbo thought for a moment. “Maybe. I’m not quite sure. I mean, one time I came up with a slime farm so inefficient, other redstoners were able to come up with a design for the most efficient one but.. well, that’s probably the opposite of what you were asking.” That got a snort out of G and a mumbled “only you”.

“Genuinely though, I don’t think so. I was never quite interested in being a big deal, anyway. I’ve always done redstone for fun. I had a little bit of reach though. Xisuma discovered me from a couple designs I put out online, and invited me to join Hermitcraft.

“I took his offer immediately. He wasn’t quite a big name in the admin world at the time, but he was kind, and.. well, someone I trusted told me too.”

Mumbo trailed off. G seemed confused about who the other person was, but didn’t try and push Mumbo to explain. 

There was a larger reason he’d joined Hermitcraft so early on. It was just.. a difficult memory. Still, Mumbo found himself speaking before he really processed it.

“I had a.. a friend,” Mumbo started, taking a deep breath. His hands stuttered in his writing, but he kept going, not looking up from his page. “He had been granted access to admin a server with a unique idea. It was sure to be a big deal. But he was gonna be away for a while.”

Confusedly, G looked up from his sketchbook. “He didn’t invite you?”

“Oh no, he did! I was the first person he invited!” Mumbo assured. “It just wasn’t my cup of tea. Absolutely brilliant premise, starting at the start of time and slowly working their way to present. The server was called Evolution.” G frowned at the explanation, but didn’t interrupt.

“He was hesitant to leave me alone, but I told him he should go. Only a couple days later, X sent me the invite. So we both agreed to go our separate ways for a bit, then meet up as soon as his server complete their objective.”

G perked up. “Oh, well that’s good! I’m glad it worked out for you two.”

Mumbo stayed silent, head dropped down and fingers still on his blueprints.

“..Mumbo? It.. it worked out, right?”

Mumbo couldn’t find it in himself to respond. The Evolution tragedy happened years ago. He’d grieved and mourned already, he just.. 

He hadn’t moved on. Not really.

Not when every other member was found safe. Incredibly injured, but safe nonetheless.

Every member except him. Except Grian. 

“It’s getting hot out here. I think I’m.. I’m going to go inside. Help Scar make dinner.” Mumbo got up, discarding his blueprints and pencils at the base of the tree. He didn’t look back at G, who didn’t move from his spot under the tree. 

—*—*—*—

Grian watched Mumbo’s retreating form. Sadness and grief and longing exuding from his person. Grian hadn’t meant to pry or bring up any of Mumbo’s bad memories, really. He wouldn’t have asked at all if he knew.

Apparently, Grian wasn’t the only one missing someone he loved. Except, where Grian couldn’t remember who his was, Mumbo all too vividly could.

The avian thought back to Mumbo’s previous words. Evolution, he’d said. Something about it struck a chord in his mind. He wasn’t quite sure what. Most likely, it was morbid curiosity.

A whole world, Grian mused, that jumps through time. It was a genius concept, in theory. But obviously, something bad had happened to it. 

Of course, Grian wouldn’t question Mumbo on details, that would be cruel. 

The avian tapped his pencil against his sketchbook. It wouldn't be too terrible to do research of his own, would it? He wouldn’t tell Mumbo, naturally. Maybe Scar knew something of it?

Like summoning the devil, Scar appeared in front of Grian, shielding his face from the rays of sun. 

“Hey G!” The brunette spoke, cheerful as ever. “Dinners about ready, if you wanna come in. No rush though!”

Distractedly, Grian nodded. He chewed on the eraser part of his pencil. Scar squinted. “Is something wrong?”

Grian frowned, glancing behind Scar. Mumbo wasn’t out here, so maybe..

“I actually had a question.”

Scar, the smile never wavering off his face, tilted his head. “What’s up?”

“Do you know anything about..” G put his pencil down, staring right into Scar’s brown eyes. “About a server called Evolution?”

Instantly, Scar’s entire demeanor changed. His hand slipped off his forehead and the smile twitched off his face. It startled Grian. He hadn’t expected this reaction out of Scar.

“When did you- G, how did you learn about that?” Scar looked genuinely dumbstruck, posture a little more wound up. 

Hesitantly, Grian answered, “Uh, Mumbo mentioned it. Just a bit ago.”

Scar blinked. “He- he did?” When G nodded, Scar looked behind him, towards the house where Mumbo presumably was. The brunette bit his cheek, looking conflicted.

“Look, I.. I’m not sure what he said. Honestly, I'm surprised he said anything about it at all.” 

That was a little shocking to Grian. Mumbo hadn’t seemed to have any reserves about telling Grian about the server originally, only after he’d pushed about Mumbo’s friend.

“Nothing really? He just kind of told me about the premise of it, nothing about what happened.”

Scar winced a little. He took a breath, setting a hand on Grian’s shoulder. His face took on the same sad expression Mumbo’s had. 

Maybe Grian shouldn’t have tried pushing the matter.

“I won’t go into details, for Mumbo’s sake. But.. G, the server ended badly. Really, really, badly. Long story short, Mumbo lost someone he loved.”

Oh.

That.. that made sense. Why Mumbo looked like he was mourning someone.

Because he was.

Void, Grian felt like a jerk, bringing that up. Stupid.

“G?” Grian met Scar’s eyes again. “Don’t bring it up to Mumbo. Please. He pretends he’s moved on, but we all know he hasn't.”

Grian nodded. Scar slipped his hand off of Grian’s shoulder. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go.” He gently grabbed Grian’s wrist, tugging him back inside the base.

Evolution, a server that ended in tragedy. Dreams with blurry faces. Mumbo losing a friend. Feelings of nostalgia from things Grian had never experienced or heard of before.

Somewhere, locked away in the back of Grian’s mind, the puzzle pieces fit together.

Unfortunately, the available parts of Grian’s mind did not see the full picture.

Evolution. Where have I heard that before?

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, Mumbo.”

Mumbo’s stomach dropped, his body going weak. The air around him went cold. 

“No. No, there’s.. he can’t be-” Mumbo couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. It couldn’t be true, it wasn’t possible, and this was a horrible dream that Mumbo would wake up from soon.

It might’ve been easier for Mumbo to believe himself if the guilt and grief wasn’t written clear as day on Xisuma’s face, visor not covering it for once.

“They.. they couldn’t find a body.” No. “They think he was in the middle of the initial explosion.” Stop. “It’s a tragedy.” He didn’t want to hear this. “We’re here if you need us.” He’d promised.

Grian had promised.

He promised, that day in the field, to come back to Mumbo as soon as Evolution had ended. Mumbo had told he’d wait, as long as it took, Grian’s face cradled in his hands and that wasn’t supposed to be the last time they saw each other-

Mumbo wasn’t breathing. 

A realization punched Mumbo in the gut, making him lose all air from his lungs and his body weak.

He never got to tell Grian he loved him. Not to his face.

After doing more research, Mumbo discovered that all the other Evolution members had been found and taken to safety. Their injuries were numerous, some potentially fatal.

When it came down to it though, they’d all been found. They’d all been saved. 

An interview with one of the victims, a man named Jimmy Solidarity gave a bit of enlightenment on what happened. 

The man looked mildly uncomfortable to be there, shifting in his seat and eyes avoiding the camera. When asked what he remembered, he said “Everything. Well, until after the explosion. I blacked out, I think, and woke up in the hospital room.”

This proved true for all other members. None of them were awake after the explosion, or they couldn’t remember, or everything was really fuzzy in their mind.

InTheLittleWood, or Martyn, was the only person to make a comment on Grian.

“Grian? Oh. He set the whole thing up, you know? Brilliant guy. I think he might’ve been trying to save us, defuse the bomb or something. It’s.. it’s tragic.”

Tragic. For Mumbo, that word didn’t even begin to describe this situation.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo rubbed the sleep from his eyes and he slowly walked towards the kitchen. He could hear Scar and G already up and chattering about this or that.

He’d had a rough time last night. He hadn’t really meant to get vulnerable with G, but the words flowed out of him before he could stop it. It felt right, almost, telling G about Evo.

Which was.. strange.

The whole night, Mumbo had trouble staying asleep. He’d constantly close his eyes and fall asleep for an hour before his body jolted awake as if he had a bad dream. It was a very annoying cycle, but Mumbo found he didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

Grian had always been a touchy subject, for Mumbo. The whole server knew not to bring him up or to make any references to Evo.

(Pearl, at the beginning of the season, had been the only exception. But neither had felt very strongly about ever talking about it again.)

Mumbo watched for a moment, eyeing Scar and G. Scar seemed awfully cheery for how early it was. That was always Scar though- wide awake at all times of the day, a ray of optimism even during the worst of times. Mumbo wished he could be more like him, sometimes.

G also seemed fairly awake, but a cup of coffee sat on the table next to him. His wings were the brightest they’d been yet- it made Mumbo smile. He was glad that G was enjoying it here. Perhaps he’d grown too attached, but he couldn’t help it. G was so likeable.

His sandy hair fell into his eyes, bright and Mumbo thought distantly. It made him look kind of like..

No.

Mumbo was beginning to find himself doing that a lot, mindlessly comparing G and Grian. It wasn’t fair, Mumbo knew. But there were so many similarities.

Of course, Grian had brown eyes and glasses and a red sweater he never took off, but at it’s core they could probably have been mistaken for each other.

You’re projecting, Mumbo. You found someone slightly similar to your best friend and your forcing yourself to think they’re almost the same person, the little voice in Mumbo’s head was saying. For the first while, he’d listened to it, but as time went on it got smaller and smaller as G developed more habits.

G had the same sandy blonde hair, the same penchant for sketching, the same intense sweet tooth (after being exposed to a plethora of sweet things, via Scar), the same distaste for any redstone talk, and his smile was almost the exact same.

Void, Mumbo missed Grian’s smile. And his voice, and his laugh and his stupid mischievous eyes and his beautiful builds and-

(They were walking down a public shopping hub, spending the day together. Grian had purchased a bag of sweets, munching on them throughout their walk.

“It was ridiculous!” The avian was ranting, hands flailing around and mouth half full of candy. “He bumped into me, but I was the one in the wrong?” 

Mindlessly, Mumbo nodded along. Usually, he was a very active participant in Grian’s vents, but something was wrong with Mumbo today.

Mumbo couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Grian. 

He intensely studied the lines of the blonde’s face, watching him push up his yellow-rimmed glasses where they had begun to fall. A slight breeze tousled Grian’s hair, and Mumbo thought he looked pretty.

Oh void. Oh void. Mumbo thought Grian looked pretty. 

A blush rose to his face. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Mumbo Jumbo was in love with his best friend.)

“Mumbo? Everything alright?” 

Mumbo jolted back to awareness, his face flushing in embarrassment. He’d been standing in the doorway, eyes locked on G for probably way too long.

“Sorry, sorry! I just spaced out. It was a.. rough night.” Mumbo admitted, making his way to the kitchen counter to pour himself some coffee.

Scar’s eyes softened, leaving his place by G’s side to walk over to Mumbo. He placed a gentle hand on the mustached man’s shoulder, glancing back before lowering his voice.

“You didn’t have to tell him anything. I’m surprised you did at all.”

Mumbo’s hand clenched on the coffee pot. “I don’t know. I didn’t really mean too, the words just came out when he asked. Besides,” Mumbo sighed, “It was weird, I felt like.. like he deserved to know.”

Scar frowned, but didn’t push. He looked about to say something else though, possibly related to G, when the brunette’s communicator interrupted.

<Ethoslab> Hey Scar! You and Mumbo down to test out a little game I’m working on?

Instantly, Scar’s face lit up. He waved the communicator in Mumbo’s face.

“Mumbo! We have to say yes, Etho makes the best games!”

His friend’s excitement had Mumbo smiling, all previous thoughts forgotten. He laughed, grabbing Scar’s comm out of his moving hand to read the message. 

“He definitely just wants you to play to see where his redstone weak spots are, since there’s a one hundred percent chance you break it.”

Scar huffed, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to-”

“What’s going on?” 

Mumbo and Scar snapped their heads to G. 

Ah. They might’ve.. forgotten about that.

G’s head was tilted in question, legs swinging lightly back and forth. 

“One of our friends wants us to test a game he’s working on.” Mumbo explained. “It would.. require us both to leave.”

Mumbo’s hand clenched around the communicator. “We can say no!” Scar hurried to add. G’s eyes widened for a moment, before he vehemently shook his head.

“No, no, you guys should go! I wasn’t asking because I’m scared to be alone or anything, I was just curious!” The avian puffed out his feathers. “‘Sides, I can handle being alone for an hour or two!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Mumbo messaged Etho their confirmation while Scar thanked G, promising they wouldn’t be gone too long.

Mumbo could really use a break like this.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo and Scar were gone, and Grian found himself with some rare alone time. He’d almost forgotten how nice independence was during his time with the two Hermits. 

Of course, Grian appreciated and loved the time he spent with them. But he deserved some time to himself.

He got his sketchbooks and some colored pencils out. He wasn’t quite sure what to draw, but his brain would. The weird muscle memory was weird at first, but Grian found himself growing used to it. He found it a little calming, even, as his hands sketched out building designs.

Grian stretched his wings out, beginning to hum a little tune. He wasn’t quite sure what the words were, but his brain, apparently, had committed the melody to heart.

The memories were taken away, but Grian’s body seemed to easily fall back into old habits he must’ve used to have. 

(If he thought about it too hard, his body would begin yearning for a certain person, too. So he tried not too)

Upon getting out of his head and looking, Grian saw his sketch had turned into a massive mansion, Colored gray and blue with protruding sides on the left and right. It was impressive, that Grian was apparently capable of this.

He continued mindlessly adding things to the sketchbook. A window here, a balcony here..

The avian didn’t notice the knock at the front door. Instead, he heard a voice call out, “Scar? Mumbo? Sorry to drop unannounced, but Pearl and I wanted to have a Boatem meeting! Discuss plans and things we haven’t been able to in a while.”

Grian froze, pencil abruptly stopping on his paper. The voice was happy and cheerful, reminding Grian somewhat of Scar. Another knock sounded, along with another call of his housemate’s names.

Frighteningly, Grian didn’t know what to do. Before, when Xisuma and Doc were here, Mumbo had been the one to pull a frozen Grian to a hiding spot. But without him here..

As if in slow motion, the door slowly creaked open, light from the afternoon sun flooding into the kitchen where Grian sat, unable to get up from his chair and not sure where to hide.

Grian was cursing out gravity. He was sure his wings were puffed up in anticipation and his eyes were blown wide. Grian was just a deer in headlights, body stiff and muscles tense and mind racing through a million thoughts at once.

Could it be Doc? Xisuma? Void, Scar and Mumbo were going to be so disappointed that Grian couldn’t do something as simple as hide from a player when they’d been successfully stowing him for weeks now.

Two heavy steps alerted Grian that the player had entered the house. He was big, clearly muscular from constantly lifting heavy objects. He had two small horns at the top of his forehead. Some kind of demon hybrid? The player spotted a black shirt with a yellow “I” printed on it, which, if Grian was in his right mind, he would’ve pinned as an odd fashion choice.

Grian and the player sort of stared at each other, wide and fearful eyes meeting shocked and surprised ones. The demon hybrid’s mouth was still open, whatever sentence he’d been saying as he walked in the door lost when his eyes settled on Grian.

Instinctively, Grian curled in on himself, wings covering vulnerable parts of his body. The part of him that was still somewhat Watcher wanted him to fight, because he could. He could easily force the player to respawn and then make his escape. He wasn’t hurt anymore.

However, the part of him that was still player wouldn't do that. This was Scar and Mumbo’s friend. He wouldn’t allow old instincts to take over and hurt anyone else.

(Because he wasn’t a Watcher anymore. These days, that phrase seemed to be a constant chant in his head.)

Grian and the player had a very, very awkward staring contest. Neither seemed to know exactly what to do. At least he hadn’t immediately contacted the admin? Small victories.

“..You’re not supposed to be here.” The player simply settled on. Grian continued staring with wide, wide eyes. 

The player’s eyes drifted to Grian’s wings, and his face instantly switched from an uncertain look to one of understanding, realization dawning on him. 

His mouth twisted into a frown, and his pointed and thumb came up to the bridge of his nose. The anticipation coiled in Grian’s body was beginning to melt away.

Clearly, he knew that sitting in front of him was the Watcher that sent the server into a huge panic and lockdown, but he wasn’t doing anything.

Void, did all the Hermits have no preservation instincts? 

The Hermit in front of him sighed, looking more exhausted and resigned now than anything. Not fearful, Grian noted.

The player shifted, and immediately, Grian grew tense again. The Hermit didn’t move from his position by the door though, just looked at Grian with a calculating look.

“Does there happen to be a pot of coffee in here?”

Grian, dazed, minutely nodded and pointed a slightly trembling finger to the half-empty pot of the counter. The player nodded his appreciation and poured himself a cup, movement deliberately slow as to not startle Grian.

That made the avian blink. The player was making it obvious he didn’t want to hurt Grian, and was making no attempt to turn him in.

Suddenly, the player plopped down in a chair opposing Grian, hands firmly placed on the table.

“My name’s Impulse,” The player offered. Oh. Grian knew that name. Scar and Mumbo had mentioned him a couple times, he was a Boatem member and close friend of them.

Impulse must’ve seen the recognition in Grian’s eyes, because he chuckled and leaned back in the chair, posture relaxed. “Yeah, I’m not surprised they talked about me once or twice.”

Grian’s mouth stayed firmly closed, but that didn’t seem to bother Impulse, who took a sip of coffee.

“I’m not sure what I thought these two were doing this whole time, but I’m unfortunately not surprised that it was.. this.” Impulse sighed wearily, lazily gesturing to the avian in front of him. “Heaven forbid those two have some self-preservation instincts.

“Logically I should probably turn you in, but..” The demon hybrid trailed off. “But I trust Mumbo and Scar, and I don’t want to upset them.”

Impulse reminded Grian of a dad, in a way. His resigned attitude, obvious care for Scar and Mumbo, and gentle way in which he approached a startled stranger. It was comforting, in its own way.

“So instead, can I ask some questions? You can write the answers if you don’t wanna speak. Also,” Impulse dug around in his pocket for a moment, pulling out a communicator and sliding it Grian’s way. “Insurance that I won’t contact anyone.”

Slightly hesitantly, Grian nodded. Impulse broke out into a kind smile.

Hermits were strange, strange people.

Chapter Text

When Pearl joined Hermitcraft for Season 8, Mumbo was thrown for a loop. During voting, he hadn’t paid too much attention to the username. He saw beautiful builds and positive reviews and had instantly voted yes.

When he’d finally seen her face to face, circled around spawn with the other Hermits, Mumbo had felt his vision narrow while the voices around him turned muted.

The long brown hair, red hoodie and blue jeans, and blue eyes were instantly recognizable. 

Pearlescentmoon. An Evolution member. 

Mumbo had spent so many hours scouring every available article on Evo, he’d unintentionally committed every member’s face to memory.

She looked better than Mumbo remembered from the articles. Obviously, Mumbo thought, annoyed with himself, Evo was years ago. She’s healed.

From what Mumbo remembered, Pearl was one of the players with more extensive injuries. It was why she wasn’t on as many interviews, and why Mumbo didn’t know much about her.

Still, the sight of someone from Evo, of someone who’d been with Grian during his-

It made him sick, slightly.

(Mumbo could pretend all he wanted that he’d healed and moved on from the tragedy of Evo, but he hadn’t. Couldn't. Not when he regretted everything he had been too cowardice to say to Grian before he died).

Shakily and forcing his eyes to move off of Pearl , Mumbo had introduced Season 8 to the group of excited Hermits, all buzzing with the energy and anticipation that came with starting over on a new world. He introduced Gem- the other Hermit inducted for the season- easily, who gave a shy wave and hello.

Then he looked back again to Pearl. Simple introduction. You can do this. 

Except this time, she was already looking back at Mumbo. Not judgmentally or scrutinizingly, but like she recognized Mumbo’s face yet couldn’t quite place how she knew him.

Breathe. Breathe.

“This is- this is Pearl. Our other new member. Um-” Mumbo was stuttering. Scar, standing to his right, looked curiously at his friend, but must’ve sensed Mumbo’s inner turmoil and smoothly took the reins.

“So! Let’s show Gem and Pearl how it’s done and start this season off!” 

A cheer went around the group, Mumbo’s not quite as enthusiastic. Hermits began grouping off, animatedly talking about this plan or that. Naturally, Mumbo turned to Scar.

“So, let’s get going?” 

Scar smiled his agreement, pointing towards a direction and leading the way. Before Mumbo could follow, though, there was a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, Mumbo found himself just a foot apart from Pearl. 

“Hey! Mumbo, right?” Pearl asked, Australian accent ringing through her words. Mumbo just nodded wordlessly, throat too constricted to get any words out. That didn’t seem to deter Pearl, however.

“I don’t mean to be weird or anything, but you seem so familiar, y’know? And like, my brain won’t let it go ‘till I figure it out.” Pearl explained. 

Mumbo stood still, sweating through his suit jacket. Scar was probably waiting somewhere nearby for Mumbo to finish this conversation. He wished Scar were here now, to save Mumbo from this conversation.

He didn’t want to think about Grian, because thinking about Grian would lead to that awful ache in his heart and Mumbo didn’t want to start this season off being reminded of the fact that he was never going to see him again.

Pearl opened her mouth to say something, but Scar finally stepped in. Thank void, Mumbo thought, I’m saved.

“I found an oak forest not too far from here!” Scar said, bright smile on his face. “Pearl, do you wanna come with me and Mumbo?” 

The color drained from Mumbo’s face, but went unnoticed by a Pearl who beamed at the offer and a Scar who was enthusiastically explaining the game plan to her.

This was terribly not ideal. This was the least ideal situation Mumbo’s brain could come up with, in fact.

Just don’t think about Grian. It’s fine! It’s fine, Mumbo told himself. He could do this. He could be a mature adult and not allow his own silly feelings to get in the way of giving Pearl a proper Hermitcraft welcome.

After a couple hours of gathering basic resources, crafting some tools and armor, and obtaining a few diamonds, Scar, Mumbo, Pearl, and an Impulse- who joined the group soon after Pearl did- sat in a clearing laughing about Scar’s tall boat monstrosity.

“The- the Boatem pole!” Mumbo laughed, placing down a sign. “We’ll call it the Boatem pole!” 

The rest of the group readily agreed, and Mumbo found himself having a good time, forgetting about his earlier breakdown. It was great!

Great, until Pearl walked up to him. Mumbo was picking through his already growing chest monster for the materials to finish off his van base, when Pearl appeared.

“Hey there Mumbo!” 

Mumbo jumped, forcefully being dragged out of his brain and turning to face his Australian friend. “Pearl! You scared me.” He complained, wiping his face.

Pearl giggled. “Sorry ‘bout that Mumbo. It’s just that I figured out how I know you!” Pearl looked excited about that discovery.

Mumbo was anything but.

“You- you do? Oh, that’s, cool, really- awesome, even!” He stuttered unflatteringly. Maybe it’s just from my work online? Yes, that was sure to be it. Pearl used to see his redstone work! That make sense, of course-

“You knew Grian, didn’t you?”

It suddenly didn’t seem like there was enough oxygen in the world.

“Yes,” Mumbo squeaked out, hands wringing together tightly behind his back. He couldn’t look Pearl in the eyes and couldn’t stop his shifting feet.

Void, he didn’t want to talk about this. He couldn’t. He’d spent so long fighting off the feelings from the past, but here Pearl came along, painfully digging those roots up.

“I knew it!” She jumped, brown hair swinging with the action, “Oh, I knew it! You look just like the picture, you know that?”

Picture? What? No, Mumbo didn’t know. 

“What- picture?” 

Pearl nodded enthusiastically. “Sure mate! It’s the only thing he took in with him, I think. A picture of you two! It was so sweet, honestly.”

Mumbo was only able to manage a small, “oh”. He felt faint. Pearl seemed to notice, finally.

“Mumbo? Is.. everything okay over there?” 

No.

“Yep,” Mumbo gritted out, “it’s all peachy, Pearl.” 

Obviously he was not very convincing, because Pearl’s face suddenly dropped like she’d figured something out.

“Oh. Oh Mumbo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Mumbo only nodded. Words wouldn't leave him even if he tried. His heart ached.

(“It's okay, G. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”

He thought he had time)

“You- you loved him a lot, yeah?”

Like you don’t even know.

“I.. yeah. I did. Pearl, look-”

“He loved you too.” Pearl interrupted. She looked a mixture of sad and reminiscent. Mumbo paused.

He loved you too. 

Grian had said that sentence to Mumbo many times, for many reason. An “I love you” before hanging up the phone, or for whenever Mumbo bought him lunch, or before they parted ways after a hangout.

Mumbo had never believed it was anything more than platonic. 

The way Pearl said it, though, made Mumbo think that maybe Grian-

No. This was a dangerous road to go down. He couldn’t dwell on what could’ve been. He couldn’t.

“Grian was a great guy. Super talented, too. He could build us all out of house and home.” Pearl said. Mumbo met the brunette’s eyes, brown to blue. She was a mixture of sad and reminiscent. 

Mumbo knew that. Of course he knew that. Grian was the best builder Mumbo had ever seen. He was always humble about it, too, even when he was never humble about anything else

“When he- you know,” Pearl’s eyes got glassy suddenly, “I was so angry. We- we all made it out, but not him? He was such a great friend I just couldn’t.. I couldn’t get over it for a long time.”

Pearl looked to the sky, wiping her eyes with a hand. Her long hair blew with the soft breeze. “But then I realized. Grian wouldn't want me to wallow over him my whole life. So I picked myself up.

“I miss him everyday, obviously. But I chose to live enough for the both of us.”

Mumbo looked at Pearl, taking in her words. His own eyes began to form tears.

Hanging out with Pearl wasn’t all that bad, apparently.

Maybe, he thought, I can live enough for both of us too. 

That's what Grian would want, and Mumbo would do anything for Grian.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo and Scar touched down in front of his base, elytra wings ensuring minimal fall damage.

They’d spent two hours testing Etho’s game, Scar finding every weak spot and allowing Etho to make it near flawless.

A smile was burned onto Mumbo’s face, and Scar hadn’t stopped laughing. It had been fun in a way Mumbo had forgotten he could have.

Void, he was cooped up in Scar’s base way too much.

“I can’t wait to play that when it’s finally done!” Scar gestured excitedly, almost whipping Mumbo in the face.

Mumbo laughed, pushing the big wooden door that led into Scar’s base open. He held it open for Scar, body twisted to properly see the brunette.

“Mate, you broke almost everything at least once.”

Scar wagged a finger. “Well, that was my job! Besides-”

Suddenly, Scar cut himself off, all the color draining from his face. Mumbo blinked a few times. “Scar?”

Scar didn’t move, fingers twitching slightly. Mumbo was worried, now. He peered into the base, trying to see what it was that had Scar so on edge-

Oh.

Oh, voiddamnit.

Sitting at Scar’s kitchen table was G, wings softly fluttering behind him and a smile on his face. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the demon hybrid sitting right next to him, an empty cup of coffee sitting in front of him with an easygoing posture and amiable smile.

“I- Impulse!” Mumbo yelped, flinching backwards into the door. “You’re- you’re here!”

Impulse waved, a knowing and somewhat self-satisfied look on his face.

This.. probably wasn’t good.

“So..” Scar started, slowly inching his way into the kitchen. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Letting out a light chuckle, Impulse rose an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like I just had a nice talk with the Watcher we were supposed to be avoiding, in your base.” A pointed look towards Scar.

G bit his cheek at being called a Watcher, but didn’t otherwise say or do anything.

Mumbo let the door shut behind him. He and Scar shared a look, Mumbo’s throat bobbing.

“Look, I don’t know who you contacted, but we can talk this through. Just call them off.” Scar offered, eyes moving from Impulse to G and back again.

Impulse’s eyes widened for a split second, his hands raising in defense. “I didn’t contact anybody!” He swore. “Honestly. I gave G my comm.” The demon hybrid pointed towards the comm that was, in fact, placed right next to G.

“He’s telling the truth.” G finally spoke, tone soft and avoiding eye contact with all three Hermits in the room. 

A beat passed. 

“..why?” Mumbo blurted. Confusion shaded Impulse’s face. 

“Did you.. want me to call somebody?”

“No!” Mumbo immediately backtracked, hands flailing out. “No, not at all! I just- I can’t think of why you didn’t call anybody when you clearly knew who he was. I’m glad you didn’t! But anyone else would’ve. You know?” Mumbo rambled, only stopping when Scar touched his shoulder.

Impulse looked slightly amused, which rude, Mumbo was currently verging on a breakdown.

“Do you want me to be honest?” Impulse asked. Scar viciously nodded his head, while Mumbo nodded a little more hesitantly.

“For starters, he didn’t seem very threatening when I first saw him.” Impulse explained. G looked slightly embarrassed, but didn’t outwardly object.

“I could tell he was a Watcher, but he didn’t look very.. Watcher-ish. I guess I got curious. Plus, he’s obviously been staying with you guys this whole time and hasn’t attacked once, so.” Impulse shrugged. “It didn’t seem like a bad assumption to think he wasn’t as dangerous as we pegged him. And I trust that you guys wouldn’t have kept him if you thought he would be a threat to the server.”

Mumbo’s heart clenched in the overwhelming relief he felt that Impulse didn’t turn G in, even when it was the completely logical and sane thing to do. He also felt incredibly touched that Impulse trusted them so much, he didn’t second-guess their decision to hide away a Watcher.

(Maybe “sane” wasn’t an accurate descriptor for Hermits, at this point).

“Thank you Impulse. Genuinely.” Mumbo breathed, his entire body deflating. 

If Impulse could see reason, there was a chance the other Hermits could as well.

“Of course Mumbo, Scar. You two are great people, really. I don’t think anybody else would’ve done this.”

Impulse was, of course, right. None of the other Hermits would’ve batted an eye before reporting G and immediately getting him taken off the server. Mumbo himself would’ve done that, if he wasn't weak in the knees for Scar.

“Besides, G’s great conversation.” Impulse continued. “Wasn’t really down for talking at first, but after hour one I think he realized I really wasn’t gonna do anything with him.”

G flushed, shyly wrapping his wings around himself. “In my defense, you’d sort of broken in. I don’t think I was in the wrong.” Scar barked out a laugh at that, and Impulse put a hand over his smiling face.

Scar raced over to G, putting a hand in his sandy hair and rustling it, G letting out an indignant squawk and trying to avoid it. Scar plopped down in the seat next to the avian, snickering while G tried to fix his hair. Impulse kicked Scar under the table, eliciting a yell from the brunette which had Grian pointing and laughing, now.

Void, this was refreshing to see. Another Hermit seeing the player in G instead of the Watcher in him. It was everything the avian deserved.

Mumbo himself took a seat at the last available chair, long legs folding under it to avoid the kicking battle G and Scar had gotten themselves into.

They were like children, honestly. But Mumbo wouldn't have it any other way.

—*—*—*—

Grian was having the best time. 

Initially, he’d been incredibly weary of Impulse, avoiding eye contact, searching and plotting quick ways to escape, and covering his body with his wings.

Early on, he realized Impulse genuinely wasn’t going to do anything to him. The demon hybrid didn’t make an attempt at grabbing his comm back, ignoring it even when it buzzed occasionally at incoming messages. He also didn’t pull out any kind of weapon or make a single threat during the conversation.

No, instead all he asked was what Grian’s name was, if he was hurt anywhere, if he was happy here- that one caught Grian the most off guard- and if he enjoyed Scar and Mumbo’s company. He was even patient as Grian thought carefully and wrote down answers, smiling at each response.

Eventually, Grian put the pencil down and began speaking to Impulse instead. He could clearly see the delight the demon hybrid felt at that, but he politely didn’t mention it.

Now, Grian found himself showing Impulse some of his designs, getting “oooh’s” and “that’s such a good idea!”’s for all of them. Scar and Mumbo praised Grian constantly as well. 

“Well, you might not have taste for redstone, but I think you’d be an excellent builder!” Mumbo said at one point. That had made Grian think.

Before he lost his memories, he probably was something of a builder. It would explain his body’s apparent need for constant sketching of ideas he barely had any thoughts about.

Maybe he could try building again, one day.

A buzz on Impulse's communicator broke Grian out of his thoughts. He’d probably spend over three hours with the demon hybrid now, and not once had Impulse reached to take or check it once. 

Mumbo and Scar were locked in a conversation with Impulse about some prank they wanted to pull on another Hermit named Bdubs. Honestly, Grian wasn’t one hundred percent in tune with the conversation.

Instinctively, Grian’s eyes slid to Impulse’s communicator. He hadn’t really meant to, but the buzzing noise drew him towards it.

There was a message from some player named-

A stab of pain shot through G’s brain, causing him to tense up.

Pearlescentmoon. Where have I- do I know that name?

The pain suddenly worsened, causing Grian to bring a hand up to his forehead. It felt more painful than a migraine.

Grian’s vision began narrowing, going white and fuzzy around the edges. The pain intensified, throbbing and pushing at the edges of his skull. Distantly, Grian thought he could hear voices calling out to him, hands reaching for him, but everything was muffled by the waves of pain shooting through him.

His hands came up to pull at the edges of his hair. The voices were getting louder, more insistent. A hand reached his shoulder, and Grian went tumbling to the floor, chair falling out from behind him. 

A larger stab of pain, and Grian yelled in pain. Then-

Faces. So many faces. He could count 8, probably, but their features were blurred. Long brown hair on one of them. Pearl?

Grian’s forehead slammed into the hardwood floor, but he didn’t feel any pain over the roaring in his head.

Portals. Builds he doesn’t recognize. Laugher he can’t remember sharing. Gurgled and messed up words that are being spoken in a language Grian can’t make out.

What were these visions? Why was he having them? Why now?

So far, Grian had yet to have any new memories come forward, and definitely none that hadn’t come from a dream.

Images were flashing in Grian’s mind, each accompanied with a shot of pain that made Grian yell out in 

An end portal. Promises to see each other on the other side.

Voices were shouting, shouting at Grian what’s wrong, we want to help, what’s going on, G please.

An ender dragon fight. A victorious result. 

“Stop it stop it stop it go away go away.” 

Grian wasn’t sure if that was for the voices penetrating his skull or the unwanted flashes of memory forcing themselves to be seen.

Shouts of cheer. Happy and relieved smiles. A picture with Grian and a black-haired man he can’t remember.

Grian was pretty sure he was crying, now. Nothing felt real. Everything hurt, more than Grian was able to handle. Why won’t they stop?

An earthquake. The end stone ripping off the world in chunks. Shouts of cheer turning to shouts of fear.

Hands were beginning to touch Grian’s skin. Was he still on the floor?

Deep, rumbling voices. An explosion. His friends- injured, unconscious, bloodied.

Dead?

No, nonono they can’t be.

Strong, suffocating purple waves. Masks and robes and floating figures reaching towards Grian. 

“Join us, and we’ll save them.”

No. That can’t be why- Grian wouldn’t have-

An outstretched hand. Grian stretches his own.

His fate is sealed.

The hands are all over Grian, shaking him and poking him and crawling over him and Grian doesn’t want this why won’t they leave him alone go away-

“GO AWAY.”

Purple waves shoot out of Grian. His head is still pounding, hands still firmly attached to his scalp. Shouts of surprise and the sound of glass breaking and other things falling to the floor invade Grian’s ears.

But the hands are gone.

A small wave of pain, another shout, another purple wave. Groans. Of pain?

Grian isn’t sure of anything, right now.

He stumbles up, holding his head in his hands as he sways to his feet. His vision is beginning to widen, again. His brain feels like mush, but there’s no more pain.

Finally.

Grian straightens up. Everything feels wrong, slightly. He isn’t sure what’s going on. Where was he again?

Right, Scar’s base, with Mumbo-

Oh.

Oh void, Scar and Mumbo and Impulse.

All at once, Grian snaps back into himself, awareness returning full force. 

Scar’s base is a wreck. The table and chairs are knocked over, and Impulse is slowly guiding Scar to his feet.

Scar, who’s holding his left hand over a bloodied right shoulder and slowly maneuvering out of a small glass puddle that he must’ve crashed into when Grian-

When Grian unleashed his Watcher magic in a moment of desperation.

Almost manically, Grian’s eyes whipped around the room, looking for Mumbo. And he found him, holding a hand to his head because something must have crashed on top of him.

Oh, Grian was going to be sick. He hurt Scar. He hurt Mumbo. He didn’t want to do that. He never wanted to do that.

Grian brought his hands to his face. They were still shining with residual purple magic. He realized, belatedly, that his eyes were a bright purple. His wings, too, had changed from their pretty red color to the same bright purple.

He looked like a Watcher again. Grian didn’t- he wasn’t supposed to-

Grian could laugh at himself. He’d really thought he could just quit being a Watcher, that he could go back to being a player again like he hadn’t been an accomplice in the destruction of so many, too many other servers.

He couldn’t even remember being a player. How did he ever fool himself into thinking he could try being one again?

Shakily, Grian locked eyes with Scar, who was only halfway to standing. And Scar looked scared. 

Of Grian.

He’d hurt them. The only two people to show Grian kindness, who’d taken him in and healed in and provided him with food and shelter and safety and love.

And he’d hurt them.

Scar opened his mouth to say something, but Grian couldn’t allow himself to hear whatever it was. 

He took a glance at Mumbo, who looked in a state of distress. The mustached man shook his head, but Grian wasn’t in the right mind space to interpret what that meant.

The avian took one last look around Scar’s base, seeing the scattered books from shelves and broken windows and overturned furniture. All destruction that he’d been the cause of.

Selfishly- because that’s all he’d been, sticking around in Hermitcraft like he wasn’t the largest danger the server would ever face- Grian didn’t want to hear the mean words Scar and Mumbo were sure to have for him. The regrets and curses they’d spit his way.

So, Grian did the only thing he could think of doing.

He ran away.

—*—*—*—

A few hundred blocks away, Doc was working on a complicated redstone device when he heard the beep. 

A glance at his communicator showed no new messages, so what-

The anomaly detector. 

Doc swiftly pushed up from his workbench, his chair spinning a few feet away from the force. He picked up the anomaly detector from the other side of the room, and sure enough, a notification sat flashing on the screen.

After a couple taps, the coordinates revealed themselves to the creeper hybrid.

There was a powerful surge of magic, coming from Scar’s base.

Doc swore. He knew, he knew-

Grabbing his elytra and his most powerful rockets, Doc flew off to Scar’s Swaggon. 

He would not allow this Watcher to get away with hurting his friends.

Chapter Text

Everything was happening so fast, and Scar’s head was spinning with a mix of emotions. Confusion and worry and hurt were clashing together, and his body felt weak. 

When G unleashed a wave of his magic the first time, Scar had fallen backwards into a wall. The second time, the window right above Scar had shattered at the force, raining down on him.

Luckily, Scar had the foresight to shield his neck, and he’d only gotten nicked by one piece of glass on his right shoulder.

Scar instinctively placed a hand over the wound, wincing slightly at the small shot of pain. Impulse, uninjured, ran over to help lift Scar off the ground.

Impulse was saying something, probably asking if Scat was okay or if he was hurt anywhere else, but Scar wasn’t paying attention.

Instead, his eyes locked with G’s. To Scar, it felt like time froze. G’s eyes were wide, panicked, purple. His body was shaking violently. He didn’t look like he was quite aware of everything around him. Or maybe he was too aware.

Scar’s own eyes widened, fear for G and his mental state.

(Not of. Never of G).

The avian looked sick, like he was on the verge of another breakdown. 

Scar opened his mouth, ready to tell G that is was going to be okay, that they could figure out what was wrong and help him.

Before he could, a flash of panic crossed G’s face. 

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, G was gone.

Scar’s base was quiet. Too quiet. Quieter than it’d been in the weeks since they’d taken in G. The only noise was the inconsistent creaking of the now-unsteady foundation that held up the Swaggon.

His Swaggon that was, bluntly, wrecked. Picture frames were shattered on the floor, kitchen table and chairs were kicked over, and every window was demolished, sending a slight breeze from outside into the base.

All of the light bulbs and lamps had been broken, artificial light replaced with only the sun rays from outside that streamed through the now-open gaps in the walls.

A groan pulled Scar out of his assessment, and he snapped his head over to Mumbo, who hadn’t gotten up from the floor yet. 

“..Scar?” Mumbo quietly asked, blinking rapidly a few times to get the dizziness out of his head. 

Glass shattered somewhere, and Scar flinched.

“Mumbo? Are you okay?” Impulse left Scar’s side, tending to Mumbo. Mumbo slowly brought his hand away from his head, testing his balance.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Mumbo waved off Impulse, surveying the destroyed room. His eyes narrowed. “Where’s G?”

Mumbo was met only with silence.

Scar could feel the warm blood from his shoulder slowly running down his hand and through his fingers. He tightened the pressure he was putting on it, but otherwise chose to ignore the injury.

“Where’d he go?” Mumbo was slightly more demanding now. Scar swallowed, his bobbing throat the only indication that tears were threatening to spill out.

Impulse, eventually, answered. “He left, Mumbo. I don’t know where he went.”

Clearly, that was not the answer Mumbo was hoping for. His expression shifted to one of alarm and his body tensed up.

Scar knew, immediately, what Mumbo was going to go.

Before the Hermit could recklessly run out the door to chase after G, Scar surged forward and wrapped his right hand tightly around Mumbo’s wrist, ignoring the protest his shoulder gave out at being jostled.

“Mumbo- wait.” Scar’s voice was more unstable than he’d thought, voice cracking on the last word. There was a desperate undertone to it.

Mumbo looked at Scar. Scar, who’s eyes were filled with uncertainty and pain and protectiveness and worry for his friends.

But one glance at Mumbo’s eyes showed Scar determination and urgency and resolution.

Scar knew, then, that it didn’t matter what he tried to tell Mumbo to do; he was going to go after G no matter what.

It had to be one of them, at least, and Scar certainly wasn’t in a position to be mindlessly running through a forest. Not when his shoulder wound was making itself more and more known by the second and he could feel an intense migraine coming on.

Scar let out all his breath, head dropping towards the floor. His grip on Mumbo’s wrist loosened, before he drew his hand back completely.

“Find him.” Scar whispered. He didn’t have the energy for much else. “Another Hermit is probably already on the way.”

Mumbo nodded, gaze dropping towards Scar’s injured shoulder. He gently prodded at it, frowning at the wince Scar let out. 

“Get that healed.” Was all Mumbo said. Head still tilted towards the floor, Scar nodded back as his response. He felt the hand leave his shoulder, and watched as Mumbo’s shoes swiftly walked away. He heard the door swing open, hinges squeaky and some likely broken. Then it shut.

For a moment, there was nothing. It felt like the world stopped spinning, like everything was frozen in place. Scar felt glued to the floor. He didn’t think he had the energy to move.

Scar cared about G so much. More than he probably should’ve cared about a Watcher he’d scraped off the forest floor after it had ripped a hole in the server’s protection codes.

Void, there was just something about G that made Scar that made him laugh freely and smile wider, that made him want to share all his secrets under a blanket like a five year old kid and giggle at stupid jokes.

The only other person that Scar truly felt himself around- no slightly forced cheerfulness or clumsiness played up for the bit or hidden insecurities- was Mumbo.

The implications of that weren’t lost on Scar, but now didn’t quite seem like the time to walk down that road.

Impulse delicately grabbed Scar’s elbow, pulling the brunette out of his thoughts. “Let’s get that patched up. Do you have any bandages?” 

Nodding, Scar used his good shoulder to point towards the bathroom. “Under the sink.” He rasped. Tears bordered on his waterline.

He couldn’t cry. Scar didn’t have time to cry. G was out somewhere in the forest, probably still coming down from his panic attack and Mumbo had recklessly gone after him, even though he had been hurt in the attack.

No, not attack. That’s not what that was. 

 Calling it an attack would imply that G had purposely unleashed his magic, that he had intentionally thrown Scar, Mumbo, and Impulse backwards and that he had meant to hurt him. The context before and G’s attitude after pointed Scar towards accident accident accident.

Scar was pretty sure G had some kind of memory surface. When he was on the floor, he’d been muttering a lot about blank faces and end stone and the color purple. Whatever it was certainly wasn’t a good memory, and it must have been painful for it to front.

Most importantly, though, and this fact Scar would put his life on the life to defend; G would never do anything that a Watcher would do.

G wasn’t a Watcher anymore. He was a player, whether he chose to believe or not. And Scar hadn’t once doubted his playerhood since they picked him up from the forest however many days ago.

Maybe Scar had been dumb, to actually believe he and Mumbo could hide G away forever and live happily with him in a domestic lifestyle. It was never viable to do that. G would have eventually gotten restless from never leaving the Swaggon, from never stretching his wings. The Hermits would have found out eventually, too. Season 8 wasn't going to last forever, after all.

Perhaps Scar was selfish for wanting all that, though.

Most of all, Scar was an absolute fool for allowing himself to feel butterflies everytime G tapped his shoulder, for allowing himself to sit extra close on the couch, to allow a blush to rise to his cheeks when G complimented his cooking, or his building, or his jokes.

Scar was a helpless lovesick fool for the rehabilitated Watcher. And the feelings he’d been harboring for Mumbo weren’t helping much either.

Void, he was tired.

Impulse came back with the roll of bandages, and Scar shrugged off his shirt. Gently, Imoulse began wrapping the gauze over the wound, Scar wincing slightly whenever a little too much pressure was added. Impulse apologized whenever that happened, but was otherwise silent. That was fine though. For once, Scar had no words to say.

Right as Impulse finished taping the bandages, the Swaggon door was kicked open. 

In walked Doc, creeper fur standing on edge, netherite sword in hand and lab coat billowing ominously behind him. His eyes were stony, doing a scan of the broken base before his eyes locked on Scar.

Specifically, Scar’s newly bandaged shoulder. Scar kind of wanted to hit something.

“What. Happened.” It wasn’t a question. The faint smell of gunpowder began filling the air, proof of how angry and determined Doc really was.

Impulse spoke first, putting his hands next to his ears in a placating gesture. “Doc, you need to listen to us-”

Doc growled, cutting Impulse off. He stalked forward, his large frame towering over the other two Hermits. “No. I was careless last time, not pushing you and Mumbo even when you two were incredibly suspicious. Clearly, I’ve failed to protect you two.”

Scar’s eyes widened. “There was nothing to protect us from!” He shouted, body pitching forward slightly before Impulse caught him on his good shoulder and pushed him back into the chair.

Doc laughed, but it was humorless. He gestured to Scar’s shoulder, fresh bandages on display. “So the Watcher didn’t do that?” He spit the word “Watcher” like it was poison on his tongue.

Whatever expression crossed Scar’s face must have given the truth away, because Doc’s own face hardened. 

“Doc, you have to listen to us, please.” Scar’s voice cracked in the middle. He was desperate. Doc was probably the Hermit least likely to see reason. The creeper hybrid dealt in facts and proof, and there was no way he'd sit down and just take Scar’s word for it. Not when all the concrete evidence of G being dangerous was right there, no matter how untrue that fact really was.

“I won’t allow you to put the server or yourself in danger by listening to you, Scar.”

Scar felt tears prick his eyes. 

“And honestly Impulse? Unfortunately, I expect this from Scar and maybe even Mumbo, but you?” Impulse had nothing to say to that besides looking guiltily at the floor.

Scar really hoped Mumbo had found G by now.

“That makes me believe it was using Watcher magic to warp your mind. Force you to house it and trust it so it could get back to full power.” Doc stated. 

“G isn’t like that!” Scar exploded, forcing himself to his feet and shrugging off Impulse’s hands where they tried to grab him again. 

“Scar-” Impulse weakly protested, but Doc plowed over him.

“You know it’s name?” Doc hissed. The gunpowder scent got stronger. If Scar wasn’t so hopped up on adrenaline, it might have sent him into a coughing fit.

“That’s not the point, Doc!” Scar threw his hand up, the one not injured. “You’re so convinced that G is some dangerous Watcher, but he’s not, Doc! He’s not a Watcher, he’s our friend!” 

Doc jabbed a finger into Scar’s chest. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous Watchers actually are. They decimate entire servers. You think it wouldn’t have destroyed ours? You think it was actually your friend?”

Scar didn’t allow Doc’s intimidation to get to him. He planted his feet, meeting the redstoner’s intense gaze head on with his own glare. 

He wouldn’t back down. Not when it was G on the line.

“No!” Scar yelled. “No, he wouldn’t have! G is a good person! He could’ve killed us at any point for weeks, but he didn’t! He is our friend!”

Doc shifted his gaze downwards to Scar’s shoulder again. “It injured you, Scar. And then ran away.”

“It was an accident! If you’d let me explain everything, you’d know it wasn’t his fault! He only ran away because he didn’t mean to hurt me and Mumbo.”

Instantly, Scar knew he'd said the wrong thing. Doc hadn’t remembered Mumbo’s involvement, too focused on his verbal fight with Scar. 

Now, he’d just called attention to Mumbo’s noticeably absent presence.

The creeper-cyborg narrowed his eyes. “Where is Mumbo?”

Clearly, the question was rhetorical. Scar could tell he knew Mumbo had likely gone after G, he just wanted to see what Impulse and Scar would say.

It was Impulse who answered, finally speaking up with a voice as non-threatening and neutral as possible. “He’s not injured. Mumbo went to find G.”

“There’s a rogue Watcher on the server, and Mumbo went to find it.” The words were mostly spoken to Doc’s own self. A ding came from the creeper’s communicator, and he turned away from Scar.

Scar, who really wished Doc would stop referring to his friend as “it” and a Watcher.

“He’s a player, Doc.” Scar said. His own words were steadfast, low in volume but strong in tone. “G wasn’t born a Watcher, and he doesn’t wait to be one anymore. He's just like us, he’s a player.”

The only indication that Doc had heard Scar’s words was the pause in his typing and the clenching of his hand on his comm. There was a chime from the anomaly detector. Shit.

The creeper hybrid turned his head to face the other two Hermits. “I’m going to find Mumbo and the Watcher. Don’t move from here.”

Doc made to leave, but Scar impulsively shot forward and caught the back of creeper's lab coat.

“Doc, you have to trust me, please! I would never put the server in danger, you know this!”

A beat of silence, before Doc stepped out of Scar’s weak grasp. “Don’t you think,” Doc started, “that you’ve caused this server enough trouble?”

Without allowing Scar to respond, Doc left.

Everything went stagnant. Scar’s breathing became ragged, his shoulder screaming at him from the strain. Doc’s words hung in the air around him, suffocating him.

Don’t you think that you’ve caused this server enough trouble?

Gritting his teeth, Scar grabbed his shirt off the table and carefully maneuvered it back onto his body. Impulse watched, a glean in his eyes.

“You know Doc didn’t mean it that way.” The demon hybrid stated. Scar clenched his fists at his side tightly, before releasing them in the same motion.

“I know.” Scar whispered. Truth be told, the words didn’t penetrate him quite as much as they might've on any other day. Doc was lashing out, and Scar had more important things to worry about. He grabbed his bag from its hook by the door. Surprisingly, Impulse didn’t make any move to stop him. Scar raised an eyebrow in question, and Impulse gave a small smile.

“Go get them, Scar.”

Scar nodded, determination set in every pore of his body, and he left the house.

He had to find Mumbo and G. He would fix this.

—*—*—*—

Mumbo was helplessly wandering the forest, trying desperately to figure out where G would have gone. His heart was racing, the shock from what happened in the Swaggon catching up with him.

In hindsight, Mumbo probably shouldn’t have left Scar alone. Not when, after that big surge of power, Doc or Xisuma had likely been notified.

On the other hand, Mumbo was sure Scar would’ve made him go anyway.

The sun was beginning to set, a warm glow cascading down the trees. Mumbo himself wasn't scared of the dark, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be out there.

G probably didn’t have any weapons in him if mobs spawned. Did the avian even know how to fight a mob?

Mumbo’s mind kept giving him unhelpful and dreaded scenarios and questions as he searched the forest, occasionally scaring himself by suddenly crunching on a fallen leaf.

“G?” Mumbo said, bringing his hands up to his face to cup it. “Please, we aren’t angry! Just come back!” 

Expectedly, there was no response. It still hurt, though.

Mumbo was prepping to call once again, when a flash of red caught his eye. He bent down, lightly picking up the soft object.

A feather. G’s feather.

That was a good start.

Right behind the feather were a few footprints embedded into the dirt below. They looked shaky and unsteady though, and Mumbo’s worry spiked.

The footsteps didn’t go on for long, ending once the dirt got thinner. What greeted Mumbo instead, however, was another feather innocently laying on the ground.

Mumbo would have cried of happiness if the situation allowed for it.

The Hermit pushed on. As if some miracle from every deity to ever live, Mumbo kept on periodically finding feathers, spaced out just far enough apart that he could follow a distinct path.

If Mumbo didn’t know better, he’d say the feathers were strategically, intentionally placed. Unfortunately, he did know better.

After some more walking, and collecting every feather he came across- his pockets were quite full by now- Mumbo was led to a mountain blocking his path forward.

Oddly, though, there seemed to be a sealed up cave. Hermits didn’t usually go through the effort of doing that. So maybe..

Immediately, Mumbo’s suspicions were proven correct when there was a final red feather lodged half-underneath a rock.

Mumbo sat on his heels, precariously wiggling the feather out from the rock so as to not rip it in half.

An echoed whimper from inside the cave had Mumbo whipping his head up. 

Hesitantly, Mumbo knocked lightly on the stone covering the entrance. “G?” He asked, praying the avian responded.

Mercifully, he did. But it wasn’t particularly the answer Mumbo was hoping for.

“Go- go away!” A hiccup broke up the words. “I’m just going to hurt you again!”

“G, I’m okay! Scar’s okay! Just come out.”

Mumbo heard a shuffling noise as G presumably shifted closer to the rock wall separating the two.

“We aren’t angry with you, G. It was an accident, we want to help.” 

Mumbo didn’t get a response, and he worried that maybe G had actually walked further into the cave after all. However, a thunk noise next to Mumbo’s head squashed those thoughts. 

“It was a bad memory.” G whispered, so quietly Mumbo had to strain his ears only to still barely hear the sentence. G’s words were wrapped with guilt and regret and remorse.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure-”

“I chose to join the Watchers, Mumbo.” The words were regretful, full of defeated acceptance.

Mumbo was shocked into silence. That couldn’t be right. G, who so adamantly didn’t associate himself with them, who had escaped from their grasp, who held every trait of a player rather than a Watcher.

“I- I’m sure it wasn’t like that. You.. you wouldn't.” Mumbo’s voice was strained, the failed words of comfort falling flat.

“But I did Mumbo! I think- I think they threatened my friends. And I- I..” Mumbo could hear G’s breathing begin to pick up.

“I left someone behind. Someone I loved, Mumbo! And- and I don’t remember who it was, but I know that I promised to return and I didn’t.” G’s voice was raw, full of more emotion that Mumbo’s probably ever even experienced.

“I’m sure they’d forgive you,” Mumbo comforted. “Anyone would be stupid not to.”

G let out a small, wet laugh, which was music to Mumbo’s ears.

Mumbo let out a breath. “Do you remember when you asked about Evolution?” 

—*—*—*—

“Do you remember when you asked about Evolution?”

Grian hummed in response, head resting against the cool and jagged rock blocking the exit. He’d used his last bit of energy, sending a purple pulse of magic to make the rocks fall into place.

He’d promised not to act like a Watcher, anymore. But he'd failed. Grian had hurt Mumbo, and head hurt Scar, and the fact that Mumbo was here right now, taking Grian that they weren’t angry and didn’t blame him-

Grian didn’t deserve this kindness. He- he didn’t deserve anything.

“Well, my friend.. he didn’t come back from Evo. Everyone else did, but he didn’t. Horrible, right?”

Distantly, Grian realized that this was a familiar situation.

“He had.. he’d promised to come back, too.”Grian heard Mumbo take in an unsteady breath. The avian’s own breath hitched.

“But he- he..” 

“He didn’t.” Grian finished. He closed his eyes. They weren’t purple anymore, brown irises coming back.

“..Yeah. Yeah, he didn’t. But you know something, G?” Grian didn’t respond, but he doesn’t think Mumbo was particularly looking for an answer anyway.

“If he came back, right this moment, I’d forgive him, because it wasn’t his fault. And I bet the person you loved feels the exact same.”

Grian’s heart swelled at the words. He was shocked Mumbo was willing to be so vulnerable with him, but it also felt good, to be trusted. To have his feelings cared for.

“When I figure out who it was I was in love with,” Grian started, picking lightly at a loose thread on the jeans he was wearing, “I think I’ll tell him I love him.”

Mumbo chuckled, but it was muffled by what Grian assumed was the action of Mumbo shoving his face into his hands.

“You should. I never got to tell my best friend I loved him, either. You.. you deserve happiness, G.”

Grian couldn't stop the tears from immediately leaving his eyes. He’d been told a lot of things during his time with the Watchers, but never that. Never the kind, gentle words of love and care and kindness and praise that Mumbo and Scar insisted on showering him with.

Taking a shuddering breath in, Grian lifted his head away from the rock. Truth be told, Mumbo definitely could have mined through it if he wanted, but Grian was glad he didn’t.

He just.. needed a little bit more time.

“I think I’d like to stay in here a little longer. I’m sorry.”

The avian heard Mumbo shift, likely moving a little bit away from the wall himself.

“It’s okay, G. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”

…

That was-

When had Grian..

Where had he-

And suddenly, suddenly, Grian’s world came crashing down on him.

Memories came flooding back in like a burst dam. For some reason, yet miraculously, it didn’t hurt this time. Each memory slotted itself back into its proper place, almost like they’d never left at all.

His childhood memories, winning the most likely to succeed award in elementary, passing all of his final architecture exams with an A, watching movies by pulling all-nights with friends. Every little detail of his life before the Watchers, back.

All because of-

The memory was clear, now. No blurry faces, no weird foreign languages. Just him, Mumbo, and the promise to find each other again in a lush field with a high sun. Mumbo’s hands on his cheeks, and Grian’s heart so full of love for the man in front of him.

It was all too much, and yet at the same time, it was all perfect. 

Grian, for the first time in too many years, was himself again. 

“Mumbo.” Grian breathed. But this time, the name meant something else to Grian, it held a different kind of weight. Something new, but also something old. 

“Yeah G?” Mumbo, Mumbo, asked, unaware that Grian, it was Grian, on the other side of the wall, and he came back, just like he promised, even if the timeline was maybe possibly a little different.

Even though he was suspected dead, he came back.

(Maybe, subconsciously, his soul had known Mumbo was on this server. Grian couldn’t quite imagine a world where his fate and heart wasn't inexplicably intertwined with Mumbo, anyway)

“Mumbo, it’s- it’s me, it’s Gri-”

The sound of a yelp coming from outside had Grian’s words screeching to a halt. Through the rocky wall, Grian could smell a strong stench of gunpowder.

“Doc- Doc, wait a minute, stop-” Grian could hear his friend, (his love?), pleading, but obviously Doc wasn’t listening, because the sound of rocks being mined through ripped through the cave.

Grian lurched to the other side of the cave, avoiding the small rocks that cascaded down as Doc plowed his way into the cave.

Light flooded in, and Grian lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Standing in front of him, frame large, intimidating, and very, very angry was the creeper hybrid himself. He flipped the netherite pickaxe in his hand skillfully, eyes trained on Grian.

“Found you, Watcher.”

Chapter Text

“Found you, Watcher.”

Grian threw his hands up to his ears, palms out and shakily intensely. Doc raised his pickaxe up threateningly, the intention clear; if Grian made any sudden movements, it would bury itself in his body. The avian tried not to shiver at the thought of that.

The creeper hybrid seemed to be waiting for something. The way his body was tensed but ready, his free hand resting over the sword looped through his belt and his attention focused solely on Grian, eyes marking every minuscule shiver that went through his body.

It was almost like Doc was waiting for Grian to-

To attack. Obviously. Because that’s what any other Watcher would do. Go in for the first strike, aim for the immediate kill. It’s what Watchers were known for.

Luckily, Grian was no ordinary Watcher. Instead of any move to attack- he was unarmed anyway, and felt too drained to use his magic- Grian slowly stood up on two feet, making sure his moves were precise and slow.

Still, Doc’s posture tightened again and he readjusted his grip on his pickaxe. The tension in the air was almost suffocating. Both players were sitting ducks, trying to gauge what the other would do first. 

Neither moved. Grian had to resist the urge to peer around Doc to look at Mumbo, who was frozen at the entrance of the cave with an unsure and slightly distant look in his eyes.

If Grian allowed himself to focus on Mumbo, he’d spiral. He was running on adrenaline, now. Without having the proper time to assess and properly take back in his memories, he’d get distracted, and Doc would go for the win.

So, his only other option was to ignore the man outside of the cave. And in the process, ignore his heart and body that ached to run to him and hug him and apologize. He pushed his feelings deep, deep down. He could worry about them later.

Doc narrowed his eyes when Grian continued not to move, their standoff having lasted a few minutes now.

“What’s your game, Watcher?” Doc hissed, emitting a strong wave of gunpowder. 

“I don’t have a game. I don’t want to hurt anybody.” Grian replied, forcing a calm tone to his voice, even though he felt anything but. 

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide, to get away from Doc, maybe even leave the server. It would be the safest, smartest option for him. But all it took was one passing thought of Scar and Mumbo, of their smiling faces and kind gestures, and maybe Grian was being stupid or selfish, but he couldn’t leave that behind. Not willingly, anyway.

Doc let out a humorless laugh, roughly swinging his pickaxe down in an arc which caused Grian to flinch backwards. “You’re a liar.” The words were spoken with so much malice, so much hatred. They penetrated Grian in his heart.

He never wanted to hurt anybody. 

Why did everyone think he did?

Grian grit his teeth, trying not to lash out. “I’m not lying to you. I’m not a Watcher anymore, and I don’t want to hurt anybody, ever.”

The incredulous, disbelieving look Grian got in return stung a little.

“What, you just quit?” Doc mocked, tone of voice pitched up like he was telling a joke. Grian just shrugged his shoulders, locking his eyes with the creeper’s.

“Pretty much. Why else would I fall into your server and then try to hide?” Grian grit out through clenched teeth.

The logic seemed sound in Grian’s head, but obviously not to the Hermit standing in front of him.

“You’re a good actor, Watcher. Pretending to get close to Scar and Mumbo so they’d hide you away was smart.” Doc stalked forwards, which made Grian take a few steps backward. He didn’t get very far, though, before his back collided with a stone wall. Doc’s pickaxe was replaced for a netherite sword, which was carefully placed against the avian’s throat.

Grian swallowed, eyes straying down to the sword threatening to pierce his neck. He’d just respond back at Scar’s base, but the respawn would disorient him enough that he wouldn’t be able to get far enough away before Doc would catch him again.

In his peripheral, Grian could see Mumbo shifting, walking a little further into the cave. He seemed to be holding something, but Grian didn’t allow himself to look. 

“How can I make you believe me?” Grian asked, voice getting a little louder in his desperation.

Doc ignored him entirely. “I don’t know what your plan is,” he growled, pushing a little harder on the sword and drawing a small bead of blood from Grian’s neck.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

“But I won’t let you go through with it. There’s only one thing I won’t ever allow to happen, and that’s my family getting hurt.”

Before Grian could blink, the sword was raised up. On instinct, he threw his body to the left, the sword crashing against the stone wall instead of his body.

Grian’s heart was pumping fast, but he didn’t have time to try and calm himself before he was ducking his head down to avoid another slash aimed at his neck. Grian scrambled away from the creeper, knees dragging painfully on the rocky floor.

Pushing himself to his feet and catching his breath, Grian surveyed his opponent. Doc wasn't moving anymore, just staring back at Grian as he held his netherite sword up by his head with two hands. 

He’s waiting for me to use my Watcher magic, Grian realized. That’s what Doc had been in anticipation of this whole time. He was waiting for Grian to lash out, prove himself as the dangerous entity Doc was convinced he was.

Unfortunately for Doc, Grian wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He’d rather have a permanent death than solidify the ideas that Doc had of him. He wouldn’t hurt his friends, or anybody else, again.

Speaking of his friends, Mumbo was no longer directly in Grian’s peripheral.

Doc, seemingly tired of the stand still the two were in, moved forward, the grip on his sword getting tighter. There was a cold, unforgiving look in his eyes that made Grian take a couple involuntary steps back. It wasn’t until he felt his wings collide with a rocky corner that he realized he’d made a mistake.

“Time to end this.” Doc said, final. He rose the sword high above his head.

In what felt like slow motion, the sword began it’s descent down, Grian locked as it’s target. The avian braced himself, eyes shutting on instinct and body tensed for the sword to hit its mark.

The sound of glass breaking had Grian snapping his eyes open. Grian watched in numb shock as the sword slipped out of Doc’s hands, falling right beside his feet. The creeper let out a string of swears, collapsing to his knees. Black bubbles floated through the air, accompanied by a bitter smell. Weakness potion.

Standing above Doc, broken and empty potion bottle in hand, was Mumbo. His body was shaking violently, the top half of the glass bottle accidentally falling out of his weak grip.

Doc is Mumbo’s friend, Grian thought, eyes wide as he and Mumbo stood breathing for a moment, But he.. he defended me. Chose me.

Doc’s gaze drifted to Mumbo’s. “What-” he coughed, and Mumbo’s body language was screaming guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Doc. But I can’t.. I can’t let you take G away.”

G. Oh void, Mumbo didn’t even know, hadn’t realized yet that this was Grian. Grian wanted to tell him so badly, more than anything, but. Well. Time and place.

“He’s going to doom the server, Mumbo! He’s a Watcher, you can’t-”

Mumbo frowned sadly down at Doc. “He isn’t a Watcher, Doc, and he’s not a danger to anybody. I wish you’d believe us.”

Without stalling any longer, Mumbo took a dazed Grian’s wrist and dragged him out of the cave, pulling him along through the forest.

Grian’s heart was pounding in his chest and resonating through his ears. His legs felt weak from anxiety, the only thing keeping him going being Mumbo’s persistent tugging. 

After a few minutes of running, Grian had mostly regained his composure. Mumbo was one-handedly typing something on his communicator and narrowly avoiding bumping into trees during his multitasking.

Now. I should tell him now, while we’re alone and not in immediate danger.

Mumbo began talking, bringing Grian’s attention to the back of his friend’s head. “We’ll have to get you to the world border. It’s just north of here, shouldn’t take too long. Is there anywhere else you can go?” 

“Wait a minute, I need to tell you something.” Grian tugged a little at Mumbo’s right grip, a silent ask for Mumbo to stop moving, but the Hermit didn’t notice and continued his ramble.

“I guess- yeah, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Best option right now would be to get you out of here as soon as possible, I reckon.”

“Mumbo,” Grian hissed, pulling back a little more forcefully now. Still, Mumbo didn’t pay any mind, caught up in his own thoughts.

“Xisuma probably won’t be there, will he? Oh Void, I didn’t even think of that! What if Doc already told Xisuma, oh this isn’t good-”

“Mumbo!” Grian shouted this time, using his other hand to grab Mumbo’s wrist and force him to a stop, the taller man almost tumbling backwards into the avian.

“Wha- G, we have to keep going!” Mumbo’s voice was panicked, but Grian stood his ground.

“There’s something you need to know.” Grian took a breath. “Back in the cave, I-”

A rustling bush interrupted Grian, and his and Mumbo’s head snapped towards it. Tensing, Grian took a step back.

Had they been found already? Void, this wasn’t good. 

Mumbo put a hand on his belt, where there were two more weakness potions lined up. More rustling had Grian taking another step back. He was prepared to run.

Suddenly, a figure ungracefully shot from the bushes, causing both Grian and Mumbo to wind up, before almost instantly relaxing.

One look at the brown hair and outfit covered with twigs and leafs and the familiar voice spewing curses, and the sight of Scar sent all the previous tension leaking from the avian’s shoulders.

“Scar!” Mumbo chided, hand on his heart. “You can’t do that, mate! You scared us!”

Scar laughed in response, eyes shining with obvious relief as he looked over Grian.

“You guys got out okay? Where’s Doc?”

Mumbo and Grian winced in sync. “He’s ah.. recovering from a weakness potion to the head.”

Scar blinked, before a large grin broke out on his face. The brunette slapped Mumbo on the back. “Wow Mumbo! I didn’t think you had it in you. And to Doc, jeez!”

Mumbo rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s going to be so angry later.” He mumbled. 

Although the display of friendship was nice, Grian really needed to mention that he had his memories back. That seemed like priority number one, at the moment.

Clearing his throat, Grian pulled the other two Hermit’s attention back to him. “Look, this is great, but I have something really, really important to say.”

The other Hermits must’ve noticed the intensity of his words, because they soundlessly closed their mouths and gave their undivided attention to Grian.

Finally. I can do this. 

Grian opened his mouth, but no words were able to leave before the sound of multiple, many footsteps running towards them caught everyone’s attention.

Oh for Void’s sake.

Scar had the foresight to grab Grian’s elbow, putting him directly behind himself. The brunette reached into his inventory and swiftly pulled on his netherite armor, also pulling out a netherite sword.

Grian didn’t realize how genuinely geared up Scar was, considering his clumsiness and inherent distaste for armor. Or clothes. 

Mumbo was behind Grian, a weakness potion in hand and at the ready. The footfalls were getting closer, sounding more like a stampede. Just how many people were there?

Probably a lot, if Scar and Mumbo’s shared look over his head was anything to go by. He knew Hermitcraft was a private server, but he never looked at how many players there were.

This was looking very, very bad.

Shouts and orders were being thrown in the distance. All of it getting louder, louder. Grian’s time was almost up.

Scar looked back at Grian, at his dropped face and anxious expression, and offered a small smile of his own. Grian could see the shakiness of it, though.

“We’ve got this, G. Don’t worry.” A cheesy wink was accompanied with it, and Grian couldn’t help but break out into a tenuous smile of his own.

Suddenly, the pounding reached an all-time high, before multiple bodies crashed into the little clearing. 

Instantly, Grian could pick out Xisuma, large helmet on top of his head and in front of the group of Hermits.

Xisuma lifted his own sword towards the trio in the middle. “Mumbo, Scar,” he started slowly, as if he was talking to a wild animal. Both Hermits tensed in their side near Grian, but didn’t make a move to raise their own weapons.

“Step away from the Watcher. It’s going to be okay.”

Neither moved a muscle. Scar looked back at Mumbo, who gave a small, helpless shrug.

“I think we’re just fine right here.” Scar replied, rolling his shoulders back like he wasn’t standing up and defying his admin.

Xisuma let out a sigh, nodding his head back towards his group of Hermits. Two stepped up, one with short black hair and a lab coat, and one with white hair and a mask. Both clutched netherite swords in front of them, and were decked out with armor of the same material.

Grian’s chances at winning the fight, or even running away, were diminishing in front of his eyes.

Xisuma switched his attention away from Scar and Mumbo, and turned towards Grian instead.

“We can do this the easy or the hard way, Watcher. Let go of their minds and cooperate with us, and nobody has to get hurt.”

Grian bared his teeth, wings puffing out. “I’m not mind controlling them, and I’m definitely not a Watcher.”

The white haired guy snorted. “Right, and I’m not a redstoner.”

That wasn’t a reference that Grian understood, but he didn’t spend time trying to dwell on it.

“Guys, stop! G is telling the truth, if you’d just listen-”

A new Hermit interrupted Scar in his pleading, a girl with blonde hair that a set of goggles sat atop and a pair of large eagle wings. “What, you know it’s name? I didn’t even know Watchers had names?”

Scar’s eyes became desperate, and he scooted closer to Grian, eyes never leaving his friends in front of him. “I’m serious! G used to be a Watcher, sure! But he didn’t choose to be one, he’s a player!” 

The blonde haired player stepped up, confidently holding her sword towards Grian’s heart. “We can do this the hard way,” she growled, “but I don’t imagine it’d end too well for you. You might be a Watcher, but you are very outnumbered.”

And she.. she was right, Grian realized. And he couldn’t fight back, not again. That would only prove the Hermit’s theories about him to be correct, and that was the exact opposite goal.

Biting his lip, Grian shot a glance at Scar and Mumbo. They were panicked, neither skilled enough at fighting to stand a chance if it came to it. 

Ultimately, Grian knew what choice he had to make. The best option for his friends, even if it was the wordy one for him.

He took a step forward, closer to the blonde who’s sword grip didn't falter even as her eyes narrowed.

Another step forward. Scar shot a hand out to desperately pull Grian back, catching on his shirt sleeve with a plead not to go.

Scar wouldn’t understand now, but he would later. So would Mumbo.

Locking eyes with the goggle-wearing blonde, Grian raised his hands up. “I’ll comply.” Was all he said, and immediately the Hermit’s were on him.

It took a lot of willpower for Grian to not to look at or acknowledge Scar and Mumbo’s betrayed pleas and desperate yells to stop.

—*—*—*—

The walk to the world border was tense and slow. The ropes Xisuma had tied around his wrists were tight, painfully digging into his skin whenever he moved them too much.

Grian was flanked by Xisuma and Etho, the guy wearing the mask. Unlike most of the other Hermits, Etho seemed almost unbothered, although it was hard to get a good read on his emotions.

His wings had been left alone, which was both a blessing and a curse. The pro was that he could stretch them and not worry about rope burn on the delicate limbs, but the con was they wouldn’t stop shaking. An action that had gone noticed by the admin, if the questioning looks he got sent occasionally were any indication.

Behind him, the Hermits were whispering and murmuring. He felt their eyes on him, watching him.

And wasn’t that painfully ironic.

One Hermit, some dog hybrid named Ren, had been sent to go find Doc after Mumbo had muttered his whereabouts. Every other Hermit- which was at least 20- trailed behind.

None of the Hermits seemed too keen on going up and talking to Grian. Xisuma hadn’t explicitly told them not to, and Grian could tell they wanted to, but apparently nobody was choosing to give into the urges.

Mumbo and Scar had their own little crowd of people. Cub, the one with black hair and a lab coat, and another Hermit who Grian hadn’t caught the name of, but who had messy dark brown hair and a green moss cloak. That Hermit was louder, but despite that seemed more panicked about their well-being than the fact that the two had been housing a Watcher.

He wasn’t sure what, exactly, they were saying, but Grian could feel Mumbo and Scar’s eyes straying to him constantly. His heart clenched at the thought.

But this was for the better. He’d rather keep his friends safe, above everything.

Even if it meant he wouldn’t get to see Mumbo again, and never get to tell him how he felt.

The world border was fast approaching. Grian strained his neck looking up at it. It was a huge blue wall that went all the way up to the clouds, doming the entire server. 

The other Hermits stopped walking around a hundred feet in front of it, but Xisuma dutifully marched Grian on.

His time, it seemed, was finally up. He’d always known that this would be the inevitable outcome but, well..

In one quick motion, Xisuma cut off Grian’s ties before he even had time to flinch. Grian gave a wide eyed look to the admin in question, but Xisuma ignored it in favor of pushing him a little closer. A small, person sized slit opened up in the blue wall when Grian got near.

“Can I- can I say something first?” Xisuma gave Grian a suspicious look, so Grian quickly added, “And then I’ll leave right after! I’ll be quick.”

A little hesitantly, Xisuma nodded. “I.. suppose. But if it’s any type of threat, you’ll be pushed out so fast you’ll be seeing stars.” The admin warned. Grian gave a nod of affirmation, even though he had no intention of threatening anyone.

Truth be told, Grian didn’t really know what to say. He just.. he had to say something. Anything that could clue Mumbo in that he remembered.

Grian turned around, facing the server of Hermitcraft in its entirety. 

For the first time, Grian really got to see how different and unique everyone on the server was. Immediately, he could pick out a blue slime hybrid, a zombie hybrid, and a deer hybrid. Not all servers were particularly accepting of hybrids, but of course Hermitcraft would be.

This server was full of good people, Grian realized. I guess I never would have fit in anyway.

Grian’s eyes finally rested on his target- Mumbo. Mumbo, who was silly and kind and incredible at redstone and Grian’s best friend.

Mumbo, who didn’t know that Grian was standing right in front of him.

For a second, Grian didn’t say anything. No words came out, nothing came to his head. Mumbo mouthed an “I’m sorry” and Grian tucked his wings behind his back in shame.

There was nothing Mumbo had to be sorry for.

Xisuma cleared his throat. Right. Grian was on a timer. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything. 

As Grian stared at Mumbo, the rest of the world narrowed. It might as well have not existed, for the way Grian’s eyes bore into Mumbo, taking all of him in like he was never going to see him again. Which was, actually, entirely possible.

Could I survive, knowing Mumbo’s out in the world and I’m not with him?

Ultimately, it was a flimsy plan that his mind conjured up. A lot could go wrong. Mumbo could not remember him, or think he’s a fake, or even if those things didn’t happen and Mumbo recognized him, maybe even pleaded that he stay, Xisuma and the other Hermits could kick him out anyway or-

No.

No, Grian had to just get it over with. He had to hope.

And really, the ideal plan to making Mumbo recognize Grian was to just.. tell him.

Almost too simple to be true. Almost.

“Grian.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

Mumbo watched as Mumbo’s body locked up, limb by limb, and his eyes took on a haunted, wide look. Distantly, he heard a female gasp. 

“My name,” Grian clarified, “is Grian.” Not once did the avian’s eyes stray from Mumbo’s, and he saw the exact moment striking realization. seemed to crash down on his friend.

Grian knew Mumbo knew who he was, who he truly was beyond the fake nickname and Watcher status and lost memories, and Mumbo knew Grian knew he knew.

A slight pause, and Grian blinked, and suddenly Mumbo was lunging forward, expertly avoiding the Hermit’s hands as they reached to pull him back with shouts and yells to stop.

They didn’t understand. But how could they? 

Grian stumbled forward a step, then another. Xisuma seemed frozen, not actively stopping Grian from walking away. A female voice, the familiar one that gasped earlier, snapped at some Hermits. The words were unintelligible. Maybe, if Grian’s mind wasn't just a mantra of Mumbo Mumbo Mumbo, he’d better dissect the nostalgia of the other voice.

It felt like years as Mumbo ran towards Grian. Oh void, what was Grian even supposed to do when Mumbo got to him? What was he supposed to say? Sorry I left you all those years ago, lost my memories, and happened to escape into the exact same server that you live in?

Apparently, as Grian’s eyes glassed over slightly as he considered his dilemma, Mumbo wasn’t having those same reservations, because he steamrolled right into Grian’s arms.

And it felt- oh, it felt nice.

Nostalgia and familiarity and warmth and home and safety and love surrounded Grian from all sides, and suddenly all the missing pieces that had left holes in Grian’s heart were filled in. He barely registered the tight grip Mumbo had on his T-shirt, keeping him grounded like he was scared the slightest breeze would send Grian away again.

In hindsight, maybe that fear wasn't totally unfounded nor unreciprocated, because Grian subconsciously clenched his own fists into Mumbo’s suit, which he would never ever take for granted ever again.

“Mumbo,” slipped past Grian’s lips on their own. His response from his mustached friend was a laughing sob. Mumbo didn’t cry very often, but here he was, staining Grian’s shirt with tears.

The avian didn’t find he minded very much though, wings drooping in relief and happiness.

After too long, and yet too short of a time, Mumbo pulled away a little, hands trailing up Grian’s back to instead clutch onto his shoulders and keeping the blonde arms length away.

The distance still felt too long.

Mumbo’s eyes were water-filled, and Grian himself was hiccuping from tears. Mumbo opened his jaw, but no words came out except for a choked sob. 

“Grian. Grian I- void I can’t believe I didn’t.. you’ve.. Grian.”

Grian laughed, hands coming to rest on Mumbo’s wrists. “I’m so sorry Mumbo. I didn’t.. I really didn’t remember anything. Not until the cave.”

Mumbo shook his head, clenching his eyes shut for a second. “No, you don’t.. you don’t have to apologize. I mean, I should’ve recognized you, I..” Mumbo’s voice broke off at the end.

Firmly, Grian placed his hands on Mumbo’s cheeks, the man’s eyes widening in response. “Mumbo, you are not allowed to feel guilty for not recognizing me. I mean, it’s been a few years, and, and things about me have.. changed.”

“Well, I suppose you did used to wear glasses..” 

Oh, Grian missed this. The easy back and forth, the teasing that hid fondness and tenderness behind it.

Mindlessly, Grian’s eyes drifted down to Mumbo’s lips. His thumb lightly slid down to the corner of his friend’s lip. The avian felt Mumbo’s hands tense on his shoulders for a second, before retreating entirely and resting on top of Grian’s own hands before the avian had a chance to chase the touch.

“That day in the field,” Grian started, voice low and breathy. He felt a sharp inhale from Mumbo. “There was something I wanted to say.”

Mumbo’s mouth quirked up into a small smile. “What a coincidence. Me too.”

Without another thought, Grian moved a hand to the back of Mumbo’s neck and brought his face to his, lips capturing Mumbo’s with ease, mouths slotting together like they’d been specifically crafted for eachother.

The kiss wasn’t rough or rushed, but gentle, caring and slow. Grian couldn’t help but sigh against the soft lips, eyes slipping shut. For ages, this was all he’d ever wanted. Grian could lose himself against Mumbo’s soft lips forever, probably.

 A light tap against his cheek brought Grian’s mind back to itself, and he looked up at Mumbo through his eyelashes. Mumbo pulled away slowly, and Grian had to stop himself from chasing after.

Mumbo was flushed, cheeks flamed up. The delicate smile and soft eyes blazoned on his face betrayed how much he liked the kiss, though.

“We, ah- have an audience, G.” Mumbo said, a little awkwardly as he extracted himself and Grian from each other and went to stand next to the avian rather than in front.

Right. An audience. The Hermits.

The Hermits, who were in varying states of emotions. Some were a little flustered and politely turned away, like Xisuma who’d backed up a few steps, while some were openly staring and gaping.

Grian felt an embarrassed flush rise up to his cheeks. He’d kind of.. forgotten the situation at hand.

Nervously, Grian shot a look around the group.

“Uh.. sorry?” Grian said to the group before him.His voice pitched up in a question, and Mumbo laughed, reaching a hand out and intertwining their fingers together. That, too, felt so so right.

Xisuma stepped up in front of Grian and Mumbo, loudly clearing his throat and gaining the attention of the whole server. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the overlapping questions that were shouted his way the second he presumed control, simply holding up a hand to signal quiet.

At some point, without Grian realizing, the world border had been closed up.

“This probably isn’t what we were.. quite expecting.” The admin started, his eyes visible through the helmet shifting quickly to Grian. “But I think we should reevaluate some things.”

Reevaluate? Did he mean..

Mumbo squeezed Grian’s hand, and there was such a hopeful glint in his eyes that Grian felt his own heart swell up in the infectious feeling.

“I think we’d better move this gathering to the Hermit meeting room. I want everyone there in ten!” Xisuma’s authoritative british voice said, and instantly all Hermits began dispersing.

Xisuma turned to Grian and Mumbo, and the avian shrunk under the admin’s gaze, wings folding behind him. But Grian couldn’t detect any hostile body language from the man, entirely contrasting with his demeanor from even five minutes ago.

The admin’s gaze found Grian. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, and-

Huh?

Grian blinked in response, a confused squeak involuntarily coming from his closed lips.

“If me, or any of the other Hermits had known you were Mumbo’s Grian, this entire situation would’ve played out differently.”

Mumbo made an exasperated and embarrassed noise, but neither Xisuma nor Grian acknowledged it. “But that shouldn’t mean anything! I mean, I’m still a-”

Xisuma cut Grian off before he could finish his sentence with Watcher. “No. No, you’re not, and I’m sorry we kept calling you one.”

Grian kind of wanted to tear his hair out in confusion and frustration, Mumbo’s hand in his the only thing keeping him from the action. Where did Xisuma’s untrustworthiness and protectiveness go? Why did he suddenly switch sides? Why was he apologizing so much?

Apparently able to read Grian’s emotions clearly, Xisuma continued. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite considering all the evidence that you, well, weren’t a full Watcher. I can be kind of.. protective, over my Hermits.”

“But seeing you just now, with Mumbo?” The admin continued, chuckling a little to himself. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re nothing but a player, Grian.”

Oh void. Oh, Grian was going to cry.

Xisuma not only called him by his name, he called him a player. Not Watcher or dangerous or any other thing. A player.

Grian used a free hand to quickly wipe away the incoming tears, and Xisuma and Mumbo politely didn’t say anything about it.

“Why don’t we head to the meeting room? I have a proposition for you, Grian, that I think the rest of the Hermits will be happy to vote yes on after all this.”

So with umbo’s hand in his, grounding and leading Grian towards this Hermit meeting, Grian took his first steps into a new world. Legally, this time.

Mumbo shot an encouraging look towards Grian, and the avian felt his heart flutter. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else at this moment.

(Well. There was maybe, probably, one other person both Grian and Mumbo wouldn’t mind having by their side.)

Chapter Text

By the time Grian, Mumbo, and Xisuma finally made it to the meeting room, Grian’s nerves were burning him alive. The walk, even without elytra and rockets, only took fifteen minutes. 

Each and every one of those minutes was spent hand-in-hand with Mumbo. It felt comfortable, and so endearingly right. Grian was pretty sure Xisuma shot a few smiles at their interlinked hands throughout the walk.

Having Mumbo with him helped tremendously with the nerves, but unfortunately didn’t cancel all of them. The future of what would happen in that meeting room was entirely unpredictable. 

Xisuma had mentioned a proposition that he thought Grian might like. What exactly that proposition was supposed to be was entirely lost on Grian. Possibilities swarmed his mind the whole way to the meeting room. It was only Mumbo’s comforting hand in his that reminded the avian to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Eventually, the trio did make it to the meeting room. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a textured, mostly wood house with a simple exterior and a cozy atmosphere. 

As they got closer, Grian could hear sounds coming from inside. Apparently, when not being directly faced with a perceived threat, the Hermits were loud. It wasn’t arguing loud, Grian realized almost immediately, it was more of a I’m-with-close-friends loud.

Right outside the meeting room, rocking back and forth on his heels and staring impatiently into the sky, was Scar. And- wow. 

Grian was so caught up in Mumbo he’d forgotten about how Scar must have been feeling. 

The other man leaked worried, every tap of his foot a nervous tick. He seemed to be chewing on his lips subconsciously, running a hand through his already messed up hair.

Finally, Scar spotted them. His face instantly broke out in relief, and he sprinted away from the front of the building and launched himself into Mumbo and Grian’s arms.

“Oh guys! I was so worried about you!” Scar said, a touch of hysteria coloring his words. 

Grian reciprocated the hug instantly, wrapping his arms tightly around Scar’s middle. It had only been a day, but he missed the pine and cookie smell that never seemed to leave Scar. He missed hugging him and joking with him and-

And Grian had just missed Scar. 

When had he gotten as attached to Scar as he had to Mumbo?

Before Grian could think about it any longer, Mumbo was gently patting Scar on the back. “Come on mate, there was nothing to worry about! Besides, we’re here now, yeah?” The words must’ve done their job soothing Scar, because he slowly pulled away from the two.

“It’s really, really good to see you still here, Grian.” Scar spoke, this time directly to Grian. Grian only blinked for a moment before the words processed, and the largest, most genuine smile broke out on his face at the words.

Delicately, Grian took hold of Scar’s hand, letting them rest in between the two. “Thank you Scar. Seriously, for- for everything. I wouldn’t.. thank you.”

The words were jumbled, and a mess, but the point got across if Scar’s soft lopsided grin was anything to go off of. 

Having Scar’s hand in his felt as lovely as having Mumbo’s, and what that could mean wasn’t lost on Grian.

Grian was about to say something else, when he caught sight of something red rushing out from the meeting house. The avian hardly got time to register what, or who, it was before they were barreling into him.

“Grian!” And oh, Grian could remember Pearl’s voice anywhere.

Void, he hadn't seen her in.. in too long. Way too long.

“Pearl,” Grian choked slightly. Before he could wrap his arms around his old friend, his sister, Pearl was pulling away.

Grian blinked, about to question Pearl before a hard punch was delivered to his arm.

“Wha- Pearl, what?” Grian hissed, bringing a hand up to his arm. That was going to bruise later. He heard Mumbo and Scar make twin hissing noises from somewhere behind him.

“I thought you were dead!” Pearl shouted. The tears running freely down her face betraying the sadness she was feeling rather than the performative anger.

Grian found tears beginning to form in his own eyes. “I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to get out before Pearl was tackling him into another hug, tight and not dissimilar to Mumbo’s early.

“Never,” Pearl started, burying her face into Grian’s shoulder, “and I mean never disappear on me ever again, okay Griba?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Pearlo.”

Finally, after a moment longer, Xisuma cleared his throat, catching Scar and Grian’s attention. “Not to.. break this up.” The admin started, eyes straying to their clasped hands, “but we really should start this meeting.”

Pearl and Grian broke apart, the former wiping her wet cheeks before pointing straight at Grian. “We’re gonna talk later, don’t think you’ve gotten away from me!” She turned on her heel and walked back inside the meeting house, brown hair swaying with the motion.

Yeah, Grian had missed Pearl.

Xisuma was already halfway into following Pearl into the house when Mumbo took Grian’s hand again. The mustached man smiled reassuringly and began leading them after Xisuma. Scar ran up, grabbing Grian’s other hand and trailing along.

The trio of players walked into the meeting room, and instantly the loud talking died down to small whispers and not so subtle glances Grian’s way. If it weren’t for the two Hermit’s currently keeping Grian grounded, he might’ve shrunk in on himself. 

Surely, the three of them were an odd sight. Hands messily intertwined with each other, each holding themselves with various levels of confidence and hope.

Grian didn’t think he minded, though. Not when it was Mumbo and Scar doing it with him.

The Hermits were all seated in a circular table that had an open middle, which is where Mumbo led Grian. Scar, after a moment of hesitation and a small head shake from Mumbo, took his seat next to Pearl instead of following Grian and Mumbo into the middle.

Xisuma clapped his hands once, and all conversation fell completely, utterly silent. Grian could tell he was still an object of attention, but now the main focus was on Xisuma, and likely whatever proposition he mentioned having earlier.

“I have a proposition for you, Grian, that I think the rest of the Hermits will be happy to vote yes on after all this.” The earlier words rang back in his head. Grian swallowed. He could only hope that Xisuma’s analysis would prove to be true.

He really, really, didn’t want to leave Hermitcraft. Leave Mumbo and Scar.

“So,” Xisuma started, “I know this maybe.. isn’t quite the same situation as it was twenty minutes ago.”

A few Hermits scoffed, one unfamiliar voice speaking out, “I’ll say.”

Xisuma swiftly interrupted. “However, I think we can equally all agree that the circumstances have changed somewhat dramatically.” A few agreeable mutterings went around the room this time.

Grian knew that the changed circumstances was his revealed status as Mumbo’s old friend. Although he hadn’t been told directly, it would be hard to miss the sympathetic looks and words people kept saying. 

The kiss Mumbo and Grian shared in front of everyone and their currently tightly intertwined hands probably helped their case, too. 

“So, here’s what I propose.” Grian held his breath, moving his body closer to Mumbo’s.

“We allow Grian here to be on probation for the rest of the season. He’d stay with Mumbo or Scar in Boatem, supervised, but be allowed to move about the server freely. Just to ensure he really won’t destroy the server or anything.” 

A little embarrassed, Grian shrunk in on himself, wings folding behind his back. Xisuma, observant as ever, shot Grian a kind smile. “Even though none of us really think you will.” The admin admitted.

“At the end of the server, all us Hermits will have another meeting to discuss Grian becoming a permanent Hermitcraft member.”

And wow, if that wasn’t the only thing Grian wanted for his future. It seemed so reachable, so achievable. He could only hope that the Hermits could see his potential to be good.

“So, if there’s no questions..” 

Silence.

“Alright. Every Hermit in favor of this plan, please raise your hand.”

Grian watched, astounded, as every. Single. Hermit raised a hand up. Most accompanied it with a kind smile directed straight at Grian.

The avian felt his wings relax at his back, stretching to near their full span. Grian felt dizzy, eyes trailing the circle of hands as they raised into the air.

Yes. They voted yes on allowing Grian to stay.

“Then, with a unanimous vote,” Even with the helmet in, Grian could tell Xisuma had a large grin on his face.

“Welcome to Hermitcraft, Grian.”

Grian had his own large smile on his face. The blinding smile Mumbo sent his way made his heart clench, and the whoop of joy Scar let out made him blush slightly.

Maybe life was worth living.

—*—*—*—

“You should have seen the look on Doc’s face when he found out who you were, Grian!”

It was evening, a couple hours after Grian was officially inducted as a temporary Hermit. The giddy, cloud nine feeling hadn’t gone away since the voting, and his smile felt permanently attached to his face.

Now, he was sitting on Scar’s couch. Scar was on the end, feet stretching across the couch and over Grian and Mumbo’s legs. Mumbo had his arm draped across Grian’s waist, and Grian had never felt so safe and loved before.

“Like, he felt so bad! I've never seen Doc apologize before, but you might be his first, Grian!”

Scar hadn’t stopped rambling all night, which was just fine because Grian didn’t mind. 

He could listen to Scar talk all day, probably.

“Oh, and Etho! When you and Mumbo- uh, kissed-”

Scar kept talking, but Grian’s brain stalled. Scar had hesitated on his words. Scar never hesitated on his words, especially not when it came to relationships. Chronic gossiper, Scar, jumbling up his words?

Of course, Grian wasn’t an idiot. Ever since his first day staying with Scar and Mumbo, he’d seen the way the two looked at each other.

Mumbo looked at Scar like he hung the moon. Scar looked at Mumbo like he was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. (Which was fair, because Grian felt the exact same way).

The two, simply put, absolutely had crushes on eachother like two highschool teenagers. Clearly, they’d been dealing with those feelings for quite some time before Grian.

Grian also wasn’t dense enough to not realize he himself had a crush on Scar.

And if Grian liked Scar, and Scar liked Mumbo, and Mumbo liked Grian, but they all also liked the other..

“Scar.” Grian interrupted whatever it was that the brunette was talking to. Scar’s face focused entirely on Grian, that sunny smile and freckles making his look cute as ever.

“Yeah, Grian?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The bluntness of the statement clearly took Scar by surprise, because suddenly the normally well-spoken man was fumbling and blushing and not meeting Grian’s eyes.

“Oh. Oh! Well, uh, see- I don’t- but I thought you and.. and..”

Mumbo, from the other side of the couch, broke out into a surprised laughing fit.

“I forgot how- how plain you could be, Grian, jeez.” The man got out through giggles. 

Scar whipped his head towards Mumbo. “What?” He asked, dazed. 

“This isn’t quite how I was expecting to have this conversation..” Mumbo mused, looking towards the ceiling in consideration. Grian scoffed in faux annoyance. 

“I don’t see why this is difficult. We all like each other, so can we just kiss about it?”

Mumbo broke out into more laughter, and Scar’s face was getting redder by the second. 

Somewhat impulsively, Grian took ahold of Scar’s hand, face turning softer.

“I’m not joking, Scar. I do like you. And- and so does Mumbo. And if you’re okay with it, I’d like to.. to kiss you?” The avian’s voice got more unsure towards the end.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all. Scar liked Mumbo, sure, but it was possible he didn’t really like Grian too, even though he was sure, with the way the brunette had acted with him-

Lips on his suddenly broke Grian out of his train of thought. 

Scar.

Scar tasted like honey, lips soft and easy, so easy to kiss back. The kiss was soft, not a fight for control but simply an intimate moment between two people who really cared for each other. Grian could get lost in the feel of Scar if he could only be allowed to.

After what felt like a million years but was probably only a minute or so, the two broke apart. And wow, the look of pure love Grian could see in Scar’s eyes was impossible to mistake for anything else.

Directed at him. 

For such a long time, Grian thought he would never get this again. Hope was something he’d lost after the first terrible year spent with the Watchers, but here he was. Against every odd, he was a player again.

A player who could feel happiness and joy and love again. And the love he felt for Mumbo and Scar was incredible. It felt like fireworks going off in his heart.

Grian looked at Scar and Mumbo, who were sharing their own passionate first kiss. It warmed his heart to see, and the smile that involuntarily broke out onto his face was entirely welcome.

Grian couldn’t wait to start his life again. He had a lot of missed time to make up for.

With Scar and Mumbo by his side, though, he’d have the rest of his life to do that. 

Everything, Grian thought as he draped himself across his loves, everything was worth it for this.