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

[corkscrewed]

I- yeah, of course.

[ martin is on his feet in a second, taking that as a please get the light, which is what he does immediately. and then he returns to the bed, climbing onto the side opposite jon. he's... stiff, incredibly uncertain about everything, but god he's trying. ]

[epistemological]

[There's silence for a moment as he feels how stiff and awkward Martin's being. His response is a little huff of breath that comes with a muttered 'desperate times...' before, of all things, Martin will feel one of his hands palmed around the curve of his bottom and, as he gives a faint squeeze-]

Honk honk.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin startles, before he flips around fast to face jon, staring at him with wide eyes in the dark. he's sputtering, teetering between hysterical amusement and bewilderment. ]

Did you really just-

[epistemological]

[ Jon makes sure that he has Martin's eye, that he's looking right at him with all of the things he feels right there, right in his eyes, all of it for Martin's consumption and Martin's alone. The fondness is so very clear.

Then he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips and there's a chuckle in his voice that he can't help. Not when Martin's- not with Martin finally being Martin again.]

I did. I did, in fact, do that.

[ He tips his head to one side to admit-]

Might have been the pain medication but I couldn't think of anything else to remind you I'm not actually dead.

[corkscrewed]

Jon-

[ it stirs something inside of him, melts something jagged and icy that had lodged itself between his ribs. he reaches up to catch the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him in return; it's the first one he's really initiated since jon's been back. ]

Trust me. [ his voice is soft, desperately earnest. ] I know you're not dead.

[epistemological]

You're not dead either.

[ He frowns as he considers that before noting to himself 'Georgie would have said something' and then his focus is back on Martin.

But he'll dip in for a kiss. Since he's so obligingly close.]

[corkscrewed]

I know. But- things are different.

[ martin can't help but smile a little against the kiss, his hand just very gently touching against his shoulder, stroking down the side of it. his hand is very nearly trembling as he does. ]

Go to sleep, Jon.

[epistemological]

[ He said he wouldn't ask questions, and that's difficult, it is. It's a struggle. But he can't help that his eyes ask the question before he leans in for another kiss.

Do you really want me to stop? ]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin continues to stroke his arm, leaning forward to reciprocate the kiss pretty much immediately. he's trying to keep the hunger and longing out of it, trying to keep things sedate and muted, but it's hard, god it's hard with jon right here in the bed with him.

he doesn't want him to stop. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon will kiss him a few more times, dip down to his jaw, to his shoulder before looking back up, nuzzling and warm. After a full circuit, he'll lift his chin a little.]

Turn around, please.

[ He'd like to hold him.]

[corkscrewed]

Um- okay. [ martin nearly resists, just for a moment, because he wants to see jon, he wants to keep looking at him. but after a moment he kisses the crown of his head, then turns around, resting his back very carefully against jon's front. ]

This better?

[epistemological]

[ The reason being because now, now he can tuck up close around Martin, press himself just about every inch to him. Get his arms around him and give a little squeeze before his hands start to run gently up and down Martin's arms.

He takes a few moments to nuzzle against the back of Martin's neck, his shoulder, leaves a few kisses on the skin there. And there's no deep intensity when he speaks. It's just... something he wants to give Martin. Something sweet to hold, something soft to remember.]

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—

[corkscrewed]

[ every muscle in martin's body tenses the moment jon starts reciting the poem. it reminds him so much of that first (one of the few) really intimate moments they'd shared together, and he's awash with memories of that- of how sweet it felt, how warm and content for the first time in ages-

there's been a hole inside of him for months. a gaping pit that he had accepted when he had accepted that tim and jon were gone, that he was the last of the original crew left. raw optimism hadn't been enough to propel him out of it, but now, with those memories flooding back, so stark- ]

Jon, no, don't-

[ his voice is thick, choked with tears. ]

[epistemological]

[ And he does. He does, without hesitation. He stops reciting, but he keeps his hold on Martin, keeps him close and lets his fingers curl around the curve of Martin's arm.

And when he speaks, his voice is deliberate, controlled... but just a little wet. There might even be, perhaps, just one stray spot of damp on Martin's shoulder.]

Some part of you wishes I hadn't woken up. Because then, it would be... easier. To do what you're doing.

But like I said.

I am alive. Whatever I am now... I am alive. And it doesn't matter if you never see me again, Martin.

I need you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the only reason I will walk away, why I will choose to do as I promised tomorrow morning... is because I do love you.

With every inch of my body.

With whatever is left of my soul.

And if you ask me not to be selfish, not to- not to keep you as- as I wanted, as every selfish cell in my being demanded... that is the reason why.

[corkscrewed]

[ it's not fair. it's not fair, that he'd come so far, that he was part of this plan that might - actually do something. that he might be able to change the tides. he's glad that jon is back, more than he can possibly express. but he had stopped counting on it.

the wetness in jon's voice only makes it worse.

in a splintered, barely audible voice, he confesses: ]

I'm scared, Jon. I don't want you to change my mind. But- god, I'm scared.

[epistemological]

[ He doesn't speak at first. Instead, there are a few smudged kisses across his shoulders, a faint squeeze around his middle. Breath, soft and slow and measured.]

I won't try and change your mind.

[ He knows he can't. Just as much as he knows Martin can't change his. He knows now that they're in a race, a terrible, awful race. And he knows, with every ounce of him, that he must win this race.

And if he's very very lucky, he'll win it still breathing.]

Be scared. And do it anyway. That's the only way... [ he swallows ] the only way you get anywhere, I'm sorry to say.

But I wanted you to know.

[ When something tries to tear him down, tear him up. When someone like Elias, or Peter Lukas, or anyone tries to rip into him. It's not much of a defense, and in his own mind, he can't imagine it counts for much of anything at all. What's the worth of a monster's love? What's the worth of a fool's?

Is it more when they're the same person?

So very many questions. But he knows, at least, that sometimes... sometimes the nightmares aren't so bad when he thinks about curling around someone warm and soft who smells like sulfate-free shampoo.]

[corkscrewed]

[ it's because he was drinking, because he's not sober - but that's enough to get him to crack fully. with the warmth of jon's body against his, his hand against his arm, combined with the knowledge of how painfully fleeting this is going to be?

to his humiliation, he begins to simply weep. ]

Don't forget about me, Jon. If I- if something happens, if I don't-

[ if he becomes like peter lukas. if he manages to sever cleanly, sincerely, the few ties he has left - ]

I just don't want to be forgotten.

[epistemological]

[ He doesn't say anything while Martin weeps. He just holds him, lets his hand run up and down his side, nuzzles against his shoulder, presses soft kisses and murmurs nonsense reassurances, no actual words, but sounds spoken into the skin that work just as well. ]

Even if it weren't my job to remember...

I could never forget you, Martin.

[ And he won't forget him. Because he isn't going anywhere.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin gives himself just a few minutes to cry it out, to savor the feeling of jon's face against his shoulder, the reassuring and gentle murmurs. finally, he rolls over, twisting in jon's arms to face him more directly.

he's careful; he doesn't want to exacerbate the injury at all, but he can't not see him right now. ]

Thank you.

[ whispered with a soft, fierce sincerity. ]

It - can't be so bad, then.

[epistemological]

[ He doesn't fuss at the turning but he does take the opportunity to give him a few more kisses, now that he's so easily accessible, after all.]

Don't thank me, Martin. I haven't done anything I wasn't planning on doing anyway.

[ He pushes up a little to get to Martin's temple.]

You should get some rest.

[corkscrewed]

For- coming over. For understanding. He said that you wouldn't.

[ martin sniffles one last time, before taking gentle hold of the side of jon's face, kissing him softly - and for a while. ]

Not yet. M'not ready to be finished yet.

[epistemological]

All right.

[ He doesn't have much more to say than that. Or he tries not to. It's not really his fault, now, is it? Martin's the one who brought it up. And Jon can't help the look he gets after a moment or two of thinking on it because-]

Of course he did.

[corkscrewed]

Don't say it like that. I- I trust him.

[ mostly. because he doesn't have a choice. ]

[epistemological]

[His expression goes just a little flat. ]

Don’t say things like that when I’m not allowed to ask you questions. Or point things out.

[Like the fact that you don’t. ]

[corkscrewed]

You know what I mean, Jon.

[ he kisses him again, a weird combination of drunk and frisky and too tired to do anything about it. his hand flattens against jon's chest, high on it, like he's afraid of going too low and aggravating the injury. ]