for epistemological

[corkscrewed]

[ further continued from this thread. ]

[ things are, for a few more days, pretty good. they make progress. they make tentative plans. martin spends a lot of time with jon, wrapped around him when they sleep, and they never manage to quite finish the movie.

so, yes: things are pretty great, until suddenly they aren't anymore.

it's a strain to hold out hope with both tim and daisy gone, with jon in the hospital, but he does because he has no choice. the circumstances are less than ideal when he finally meets georgie, but she seems to understand the situation by the look on martin's face when she comes into the hospital room with her coffee. she usually brings two coffees from that point on.

so he clings to hope, because he has to, and when that finally starts to fray? peter is there. peter, who promises him that he can help. that with jon gone - and jon is gone, he says with gentle urgency - that others are going to need to step up. that martin will, because that's the only way to keep everyone safe. sure, it won't be easy at first, but it will get easier, and he'll barely notice the difference. that concessions need to be made.

so martin agrees to those concessions, and georgie starts spending more time at the hospital, to pick up the slack that martin leaves.

and then jon wakes up. don't, peter tells him. if you want this to work, you can't. it'll be easier if you don't think about it.

it works for a while, too. not that it's gotten easier at all like peter promised (and he has, quietly, sent georgie a single message to ask if he's okay, because that's all he needs to make it), but because martin is stubborn. because he's this far in, and if he can be the one to keep everyone safe, then he will.

it's working well enough until the evening jon's office door opens, and martin swears under his breath. the expression jon will catch on him is surprise, panic, before it's carefully arranged into something more neutral. busted. ]

Comments

[epistemological]

Martin.

[ His name, spoken almost like a prayer. Like a hope. Like the last hope.
Maybe it's the worst thing for his own cause, maybe it's the best, but Jon doesn't know.
Jon's reasonably certain he doesn't know much of anything these days, with what's left of the people he went to save treating him like they'd rather he hadn't woken up and nothing- nothing better.

Tim and Daisy gone and nothing at all better.

So when his senses perk, when he feels that step, that presence again like a beacon, he comes running out of the office, winds himself a little because his lungs won't ever entirely recover from the touch of the Vast and he doesn't have all his strength back, not quite yet. But he has to try.]

It's- I've been wanting to- that is, I... haven't seen you.

[corkscrewed]

[ the way jon says his name wounds him, and it takes everything he has to keep his expression carefully schooled.

this is for the best. this is their best shot at keeping them safe.

he's the only one who can do this. ]

Jon, um- hey. We should catch up soon.

[ he's taking two steps carefully backwards. ]

[epistemological]

[ The wrongness of it slams into him like a fist, like a knife, and he's taken both of those to the center mass and he'd prefer to take either of them right this moment over what he's getting.

'We should catch up soon-'

It hurts and it hurts in a place that's taken too many blows lately, that should be tired, too tired for fuss or irritation but the wrongness- the lie of it-]

'Catch up?' 'Catch up?'

[corkscrewed]

[ his throat is tight, and he has to scramble internally to put an answer together. to get himself out of this situation before jon asks him a question, when all he wants to do is kiss him and tell him how glad he is that he's alive- ]

Jon, I'm- I'm sorry, but I'm busy. I can't chat right now.

[epistemological]

What did he-

[ The recorder in his pocket is already buzzing with it, and he has to pull back, has to draw in and keep the power from flying out, from pulling the question out of him. Instead-

He clears his throat.]

He told you. He told you I don't love you. That's- [ a sharp breath in ] that's all I can think right now.

[corkscrewed]

--you listened to that tape. Of course you did.

[ something in martin's expression cracks, just barely, before he holds one hand up to jon- palm forward. ]

Please. If- if you respect me, you won't try to keep me here. I have to go.

[epistemological]

I listen to all the tapes, Martin, you know that.

[ But he can't help but step forward, not when he sees Martin's expression crack. Not when he sees something else there, something real. He has to chase it, he has to.]

He wasn't-wasn't lying. But it's not-

[ He closes his eyes. He can't look at him while he says this. But his voice is strong. His voice is firm and deliberate and unforgiving. To himself, anyway.]

If I loved you, Martin, truly, properly loved you... I never would have touched you. But I was selfish. Too selfish.

[ It's then that he steps back.]

I'm sorry.

[corkscrewed]

[ right now, in that moment, that's all martin can hear- no, he doesn't love him. he didn't. not properly, not truly, and he takes a breath to try to steady himself when he can feel the way he's wavering. ]

It's fine, Jon. [ softly, his eyes at jon's feet. ] Water under the bridge. Take care of yourself, okay?

[epistemological]

[ He wants to snap. He wants to, more than anything, but he doesn't deserve to. He doesn't deserve anything, anything from Martin.]

I... I w-

[ He pauses.]

Take care of yourself, Martin. Please. Please take care of yourself.

[corkscrewed]

Yeah, don't worry. I will.

[ it rips open inside him a wound that peter had promised would knot and scar up. turns out it hadn't.

he hurries out, head down, like he's worried jon will speak to him again. ]

[epistemological]

[ He lets him go. And that... that is when he can say, so soft-]

I love you.

[ And he returns, slowly, to his office.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin doesn't stick around long enough for a conversation after jon is stabbed; just long enough to make sure that nothing important was punctured, that he wasn't bleeding out.

the look basira gives him as he escapes is... hard.

it's the middle of the night, days later and a few drinks in, when his resolve fails him. maybe jon won't be up; he hopes not, at least.

he texts him. ]

Hey, this is Martin. just hope you're healing up.

[epistemological]

[ He's awake. He's in the Archives, in his old cot again.]

It still hurts to sit or stand but I'm getting used to this sort of thing.

I'm glad to hear from you.

[corkscrewed]

[ peter's going to kill him if he finds out, but- he doubts jon's powers extend to text messaging. surely they don't.

this is fine. ]

you should be asleep.

[epistemological]

I believe I slept enough.

[corkscrewed]

It's not the same.

[epistemological]

It very much is. More than you'd expect.

[corkscrewed]

you have to rest when you're injured.

[epistemological]

[ Maybe, if things weren't- if they hadn't-

No, it's not worth thinking about. He just knows that now, everything they'd been, everything they'd had, Martin wanted no part of it.

And that means- that means he's allowed. ]

It's fine.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin takes a steady breath. this is a good closing point. he should put his phone away before he makes any further mistakes. ]

Well. goodnight, then.

[epistemological]

[ No, dammit dammit. No, that isn't the right way. Not tit for tat. Not lashing out. Not even now.]

It hurts, Martin.

I'm alone, and it hurts. Everything hurts.

And I don't know what to do.

[corkscrewed]

[ and that hurts him. because he should be there, be there for him, and he's not. he can't be. ]

You should spend more time with Georgie. she barely left your bedside.

[epistemological]

Georgie took one look at me after waking up and hasn't been back since.

Did you two get on? I thought you would.

[corkscrewed]

yeah. she was really nice. never had any doubt about you waking up.

[ martin had failed him in that regard. ]

[epistemological]

She's got a sense for thta kind of thing.

Literally. Though that's her story to tell.