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It had been so long since they'd been able to rest. To bathe and eat and sleep. While initially he'd been giddy at the unknown and severing from the Beholding, nowJon didn't seem to trust it. Martin didn't either but he knew that he needed this. Consequences be damned. So he had cups of tea with Salesa and pleasant conversation. As if what was going on outside the bubble wasn't happening. He had meals prepared by an avatar of the web as if they weren't attached to some secret motive. He lived like a human, just for now. So, it wasn't that he trusted, no. It was that he needed to be a person again.
Not far into the journey, more recently really, Martin had started to have difficulty pretending they were going to make it. It made him snappy with Jon. Something he hated himself for when Jon looked so sad and dejected. But he wouldn't communicate with Martin anymore, with the exception of occasional levity and gallows humor the two had adopted. Those moments were fine and felt like Jon, but when Martin pleaded for answers Jon would play the mysterious Archivist. Martin wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't find the words or if it was because he no longer thought Martin capableof understanding or handling what it was. That made Martin respond too often with calls for violence. He wanted the kings of this hellscape dead before it took them out with it.
Martin still pretended, though. He wasn't sure if Jon in his all seeing knew that it was pretend but he never called Martin out on it. In fact, sometimes he gave Martin sad smiles as if he were simple and naive for talking about, 'when they saved the world'. He would do anything for those smiles. For the touches of fondness and familiarity in the man he loved. They wouldn't make it, no. He was sure of that. But they would die as human as they could be in the end.
Here, at Salesa's, Martin was able to recharge that humanity. Simplicity and boring existence that he missed and craved. It felt selfish, yes. And every pleasure he took was tinged with guilt. He took it though.
Another thing that stayed Martin's desire to leave was the way Jon slept. It was in a way Martin had never seen. It was with such a stillness and peace that it hurt to see. Hurt in knowing that there was not a world where Jon had been afforded this escape. Martin was awake more often than Jon, but he would stay in the room. Watching him, smoothing his hair out of his face, whispering soft words and, "I love you."
Initially when they had arrived it was Martin's worrying and Jon all bustling excitement. It had been so nice to see him like that. As if they couldn't be on the same page as each other, they gave a complete switch. When Jon was awake, he often tried to dissuade Martin from taking too much comfort. "You can't trust avatars of the web. You can't trust Salesa." Jon didn't see what he looked like when he slept, Martin thought, if they did die here then at least Jon would have rested. Martin insisted that Jon eat and drink. Taking part in the show of being human so that he didn't forget either.
On a quiet night, when Martin had partaken of a few glasses of wine with Salesa he retired feeling light in the head. Jon was there, asleep in the room and Martin crawled in beside him and went about his usual watching. Then the Jon began to stir, which felt surprising. "Good morning. Or, good evening."
Jon gave a tired groan and stretched his legs out. "How long have I been asleep."
Martin put on his best Jon voice, "time doesn't work like that anymore." Wiggling his fingers ominously, keeping it playful. Even if these were the kind of answers that frustrated him endlessly.
Jon breathed a quiet, "hmm."
Martin couldn't tell if Jon were amused or not so he continued with an answer. "Thankfully there seems to be some changing of daylight here, so.. a few days this time?"
Another groan. "I shouldn't be leaving you alone with them. This place isn't safe." He turned over and gave a little sniff, "did you have wine?" Jon sounded baffled and like this might be a thing that was about to become a lecture. Martin huffed, lay onto his back, and pulled a pillow over his face. "I know you haven't been drinking wine, Martin. Because you know what a bad idea that would be."
"As a matter of fact, Jon, I have had wine. Two glasses, in fact. Two very large glasses of a wine I would have never been able to afford, if you'd like to know." Martin's voice was muffled under his pillow and no longer bothering to hide the irritation at any scolding.
Jon sat up and yanked the pillow off Martin's face. "Martin.." Martin tried to yank the pillow back down, Jon wouldn't let up and more sternly repeated, "Martin."
"What! What, Jon? I know. I know. The spiders are going to get me and Salesa is.. dangerous.. or whatever is was you are going to say. Well, so is everything else. Everywhere we go is full of dangerous things."
"That's not true. Out there nothing can really get you, you're with me. Nothing would dare. Here, I can't help you. You understand that, right?" Jon's voice was beyond lecture, he sounded legitimately angry. That, in turn, made Martin angry.
"That's not the kind of dangerous I'm talking about." Martin's voice rose in pitch but he kept it little more than a whisper.
"Well what are you talking about, then?" Jon scoffed, speaking in that way that went the extra mile in rubbing Martin the wrong way. Condescending, he'd call it.
"Don't talk to me like I'm your stupid naive little assistant. You aren't my.. my boss. Or my dad."
"Then don't act stupid and naive," Jon quickly clipped back and then seemed to immediately regret it. He still sounded as frustrated but he brought it back down to strained patience, "look I'm sorry. But this place is.."
"I know. Why don't you think I know?" Martin hated that his voice cracked and he sounded tearful. So he tried again and managed well enough, "why don't you think I know. Why don't you tell me things. Why do you just tell me it's complicated, that you can't explain it. You don't even try."
All the fire was out of Jon, he sounded sad now. Martin hated that sound, but at least it felt like he drove in the point. "It's.." Martin knew what was next so he turned his back to Jon and settled on not having a pillow.
"Complicated. I know. Good night, Jon." Martin still felt so angry. He wouldn't let it sit there, just in case, so he reminded the man, "I love you."
"Martin.." quiet, "Martin.." stubbornly. "Marti.."
"What, Jon?" All bristles as he rolled to his back again.
"What did you mean. By this not being the kind of dangerous.."
"It's complicated." He heard Jon sigh in that sad way and he wanted to shake him. It wasn't fair that Jon could win any hold out in Martin's temper with just a hint of that sorrow. "I mean, I don't think it's our lives that we have to worry about. Not yet at least. It scares me out there. I'm constantly frightened. Not because I think Jared is going to come along and yank out my bones." Though that was scary. "I'm scared that the whole world is just in these.. these cycles. That I'm getting used to it. What does that make me? If I'm getting used to screams and.. and pleading. And just walking past. I don't have smiting powers, Jon. I can't save anyone, and I'm getting used to it." Jon remained silent, but it felt heavy. Martin had left the opening. Hoping that the other would have some answer to make it better. "And you don't tell me anything anymore. You can never explain what's happening. All I know is that you don't know how and that you enjoy the things you are knowing and seeing in these places." Martin was very careful about this bit, "I know you hate it, and you hate yourself for it. You can't help it. But I'm powerless, I don't have any say in what is happening or who we stop. I don't get to know what we are going to be walking into or what to expect. I'm supposed to be your partner and I feel so alone. And I know you do too. You feel like you are responsible, you hate yourself and you make it very clear. You hate yourself so much you don't let me love you, you don't let me in. So yeah, maybe I'll be wrapped up in a web and eaten by spiders here. But out there is a million times worse. I'd rather die stupid and a little drunk than walk forever alone with you putting more and more walls up until neither of us have any humanity left." A typical ramble from him made the worse for the wine.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. Shut you out that is. I just. I did do this. It's my fault." Martin opened his mouth to speak and Jon put a finger on his mouth to stop him. Propping himself up to look down at Martin and see his face, "the things you are seeing and afraid of, I did that to you. I did that to everyone."
Now Martin spoke up, "you did not. You were manipulated by things that shouldn't exist. "
"Everything I've done was my choice."
"Most people have to choose whether or not to stop for a scone on the way to work and it makes no difference. Not whether or not to unwillingly participate in some entity's ritual of terror."
Jon lay back down and sighed again.
It was Martin's turn to roll over and look at Jon, "you will not ever get me to believe this is your fault. I would not love someone who did this knowingly. You walk every day towards trying to end this. This happened because you were hurt over and over again by things trying to end the world. Those are not the actions of a bad man."
"I see that I can't convince you."
"You can't. Jon..?"
"Yes?"
"I need you to start communicating with me again. I love you. But I can't continue to do it like this." Martin felt Jon shift.
"I know. I'll.. try. I love you too." Jon leaned over to give Martin's head a kiss, nuzzled into his hair, "please don't drink any more alcohol while I'm asleep. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."
Martin closed his eyes, feeling less angry after having an actual conversion. "I know what you'd do. You'd do what's right. Because that's who you are. But okay. No more wine."
-----
The days passed more easily for Martin now that he was not holding in whatever that was that had needed to come out. He'd needed Jon to open back up to him, and it seemed like he was willing to try. At least during the few hours he was awake. In that time, Martincontinued to try and get him to eat food, hydrate, and hold any conversation that didn't involve the apocalypse. He'd try for simple things, like observing the painting on the wall or the furniture's style. The selection of books Salesa had, and whether Jon had ever read them. There were even a few times where Jon seemed almost elated about not Knowing anything again. Martin wondered, with an ache in his chest for the man he loved, what it must be like to finally not feel all the terrible things. Jon was responsive, but they could both tell this was a cheap attempt. So, naturally, conversation fell back on to what was coming next.
It was Martin, in noticing Jon's growing weakness, that first said, "I think it's nearly time to go, isn't it." Jon was just beginning to stir again, but he nodded. "I need you to promise me something."
It took a long moment for Jon to look at Martin and Martin wasn't going to ask Jon until he was sure that he was paying full attention. He gave a single nod to urge Martin to go on, "loop me in. I need to be included in what's happening. Not knowing is fraying at my nerves. I know it's not always possible, but if you tell me you promise me now, I'll believe you are doing your best."
Jon did consider it. Martin was honestly glad for the pause instead of an immediate answer because it meant Jon was taking it in and understanding what was being asked. "I promise. I'll do my best." Martin stood and walked to where Jon was seated, tilted his chin up, and bent over to brush their lips together in a small kiss. Jon's hands reached out and firmly settled on Martin's hips, tethering him and making him pause. "I love you, Martin."
"I love you too, Jon." Martin sat beside him on the bed and gathered the man's hand in his. "We'll get through this. I mean, we're still here. That means something." Jon gave one of his hums which encouraged Martin, "Basira is out there. She's making it. We'll.. figure it out. Together."
Jon agreed, quietly, "together."
"You're not alone, Jon."
"You're not either, Martin." That felt better than any promise they could make to each other.
-----
Martin suspected that they would be leaving in the morning with the way Jon was placing things near his pack. Not that 'the morning' would mean anything once they left. It did mean they could plan for one more sleep, one more bath. He chose to sit in it and take advantage of it. He wasn't sure when the next time he'd feel truly clean would be, if ever. He tried to not be as fatalistic. It wasn't that he was resigned. He wasn't even sure if he were incredibly against the idea of an ending. This brief respite had charged him enough to recognize that Salesa, who had planned so well, knew that there was an expiration too. He just didn't want the rest of it to be hell for Jon, and he didn't want either of them to be alone for it. He wouldn't have traded anything to be in Salesa's position, alone at the end of it. All in all, he felt tired of banging his head against the wall wondering, 'why them,' because there had been worse. Things considered, he was with Jon and they had a goal. He was lucky. If you're going to adventure out into an apocalypse, might as well be in love while you do it.
When Jon came in to the room, Martin tilted his head back to look at him upside down and smiled, "don't worry, I'll let you have your turn soon." Jon crossed the room and sat at the edge of the tub, pushing some of Martin's wet hair away from his face. "Can't have you facing rotting bug infestations without a good scrub first, can we." He teased, Jon scoffed, for these minutes things were okay. Even the prospect of leaving had him feeling a little better, they weren't giving up. "Got to be fresh before crawling out of zombie graves, recounting horrors.." he quickly changed from the teasing and asked more softly, "how are you feeling?"
Jon took in a breath, thought about it, and then offered with a brwath out, "tired." Martin nodded. "It's been nice, though. This quiet." Martin grinned.
"See, you were right in the first place. Though I do think it's a shame we never got to see that peacock I heard when we first arrived. Still, I'll be glad to get away from Annabelle."
Jon hummed in agreement and dipped his fingers in the water, lazily dragging a path back and forth. Martin watched him, appreciating this moment for the peace it brought. Closing his eyes, Martin breathed in and out, and in again deeply. "This is worth it, isn't it?" Martin continued when Jon lifted a brow, "if it can be like this again for people. If they can live like this again. I'd almost forgotten how it feels. But if.. if some fancy artifact can protect a space from these.. things.. then surely.. surely.. there is a way to push them all back out."
Jon was still silent, but I'm that familiar way that Martin could tell he was thinking. "You may be right on that. Right or not, it's worth the try." Martin was glad that he didn't receive platitudes this time.
"Let me run you a bath."
"I'm a little.. dizzy."
"I'll help you." Martin did just that. He drained the tub and dried, then put the stopper in and filled it with hot water. He held Jon's hand to steady him as he stepped out of his pants and then carefully into the water. Martin dutifully helped Jon clean himself, though he didn't suspect that was what the other had meant. Still, it was an opportunity to do some caretaking. To steal these experiences while they still existed. Using a pitcher that had probably once been a historical and important artifact, he delicately poured water over Jon's hair. Lathered his curls in soap, carefully rinsed. Drew the soapy cloth across his shoulders and over his back. Jon melted into it and allowed Martin to care for him. When it was time, he gave Jon the cloth for the rest of the washing up. He stayed put, though, wanting to make sure he was able to get back out and that he didn't fall asleep in the bath. Jon might heal quickly, but he felt like he could still probably drown. "The cabin feels like it was so long ago."
Jon nodded, brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them before settling his chin on his legs. "It was. And it wasn't." Salesa's commentary on how many months he'd been holed up was all they really had to go on.
"I think I'd like that, you know," Martin mused. Jon turned his head and rested his on his knees instead, watching Martin. "A little house. Away from town but close enough where we could walk. Maybe a cat." Jon's smile was sleepy and contented. "We could have a little garden. It would be proper boring."
"I think I'd like boring." Jon started to move to get out of the bath and Martin helped him with a towel and then to step out.
"We'll have earned boring," Martin decided. Jon frowned, and Martin repeated before the other had a chance to start telling Martin how terrible he was, "we'll have earned it. Go lay down Jon, I'll be right in."
Martin tidied the bathroom. It wasn't as if anyone else were going to use it, but it felt like the right thing to do before they meant to leave. When he returned to the room, he was surprised to find Jon still awake and sitting up at his spot in the bed. Martin came to join him. Resting himself against the man, careful not to push his weight and topple him to the side.
"I like when you talk about the things you want," Jon offered and rested his head on Martin's shoulder. "You think of such.. nice things."
"What do you want?"
"I don't know. I want what you want."
"Well. Yes. I want what you want too." Martin laughed quietly. "But what else? Do you want a dog? Maybe a little library room?"
"No to the dog," given quickly. "I suppose I could do with a library. I think far away from London. Somewhere we've never been before."
Martin could understand that. There were places that he didn't want to see again as well. "I didn't take you as one for having a dog."
"What else do you want?" Jon asked, his voice thick with something Martin couldn't quite place, but felt like he understood it.
"Hmm.. I think somewhere with a pub. A place with a bunch of nosey old locals that complain about little things like who's hedge is too high. Sometimes, I might even get you to come with me, if I could convince you to be social. Maybe they'd marvel at my ability to get my dour little husband out for social hour."
They both stopped for a beat, realizing what Martin had said. Jon broke it with the question, "husband?"
Martin joked to attempt to lighten the word, "well, we can't very well keep living in sin. I expect you to make an honest man out of me."
Jon laughed and turned to kiss Martin's cheek. "So I shouldn't take that as a proposal."
Martin put on a matter of fact tone, "I expect you on one knee when you ask me, Jon. And since you haven't asked, I'm fond of bluebells and violets. You aren't getting away with pretending this gets you out of the work." He turned his head to offer Jon a smile. He felt that familiar sadness bubbling up, "mostly.." reaching out he scratched the scruff on Jon's cheek, "I want to see your hair grow white and I want it so that your laugh lines stay as wrinkles on your face."
"Martin.." Jon looked like he was beginning to feel that sorrow as well, so Martin kissed him. Kissed him to say he loved him, kissed him again to apologize for whatever was still to come.
"I expect it Jon." Martin scolded, but some of the teasing had an edge of insistence.
"Well. I suppose I'll have to find a place to go ring shopping. You don't suppose Anabelle knows a place."
Martin snorted and kissed Jon again. Jon kissed back. They stayed like that, kissing deeply and softly, comfortable in each other's arms.
-----
The morning did come, and Martin finished pushing the last few things into his pack. Goodbyes were given, and Martin dragged his feet just a little. As they got further away, Jon began to seem both more burdened and healthier.
After admitting everything was like a dream, being forgotten, Jon requested Martin fill him in. His heart dropped. Not only because it meant that Jon didn't get to remember the rest they'd had, but because it felt like so much had been said between them that had been needing to come to the surface. That sadness did not last long. After recalling the important moments with interactions with Anabelle and Salesa, Martin was honest about his own snippy behavior. Jon nodded along solemnly when the agreement about communication was brought up. It was good to know that this would still stand. But then, when Martin told him about the conversation about their future, Jon was smiling. Like he was hearing it for the first time over again. Martin decided that whether he remember it or not, he'd continue to remind Jon as many times as he needed about his love.