Recovery
The night was fragmented for both Jon and Martin.
The noise Martin woke up to was terrifying. It was coming from Jon, and for a moment, Martin felt grief he hadn’t in a long time, fear rising up his throat with the taste of saltwater. He had to get Jon to stop. He called to him until Jon finally looked at him. Saw him.
If Martin never heard that sound again, it would still be too soon. Martin was sure that his neighbors had heard it too, as he could hear them shuffling about, but they weren’t a matter of concern at the moment. Martin didn’t even care if he was evicted. That was a worry for later.
Martin talked Jon through breathing, while Jon clung to Martin.
It took several hours to help Jon work the static out of his voice. It wasn’t compulsion. At first, Martin wondered if it was, because the broken words from before sounded like Jon was trying to ask him something. Martin didn’t feel compelled to answer anything, he just wanted to get Jon breathing again when Jon had tried to speak. From there, Martin talked with Jon, asking him about things that made him happy. Asking Jon to talk about the cats in his life, about the guy with the takeout shop -the one that would always give a little extra in orders when Daisy called in cause he wanted to have cop friends just in case, about just small little things in Jon’s life.
Jon didn’t respond in more than a few words, but that was progress. And when Jon couldn’t respond, Martin talked to him about small little things. Or recited his poems, occasionally getting feedback from Jon in the forms of grunts, happy hums, or a chuckle from one, with a side mumbled comment of ‘only you could make that sound less annoying’.
The sun started to peek through the window of Martin’s flat when Jon finally started to calm down enough to pull away from his grip on Martin.
“I’m so-”
“It’s alright. You don't need to say sorry again.” Martin brushed a thumb under one of the eyes below his cheekbone, wiping a fresh forming tear away from it. Martin never knew Jon’s eyes could all cry, nor that any of them could selectively cry while others didn’t. Martin didn’t like that fact.
“I’ve- Yes. Yes you’ve said. I- I’ll try to stop. I’m…” Jon paused as he leaned into Martin’s hand. “I’m doing better. That was. I-”
“You don’t have to push yourself. Remember, what we talked about with privacy. I won’t pry it out of you.” Martin’s voice washed over Jon with a great deal of affection.
“I know. But I do want to talk about it. I just can’t find the words. Its- there is something extremely important about it, but I just, with all the words in all the languages, I can’t find the right ones.” Jon let out a laugh at the absurdity of that statement.
“Welcome to the life of a poet, my love.”
That got a real laugh from Jon. “It’s hardly the same thing.”
“No. Nope. it’s exactly that. You just have more words to pick from than I do. At least more than the average person.”
“Wait, those -Martin are you using my words from that time we were in the-”
“Yup. Sucks being on the receiving end doesn’t it.” Martin grinned.
“Did you remember more or have you been hanging onto that one?”
“Oh, well, bit of both? I honestly think there are very few things I don’t remember at this point. But who can say since I don’t Know, you know?”
“I could know.”
“You could. But you won’t”
“Right. Because Privacy.”
“Uh-huh. You thirsty?”
“Why would I be- OH God, Martin, you are, We are drenched. Is this all from my-” Jon looked like he had offended himself.
“Yeah, though drenched is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t worry, nothing a little trip to the laundromat won't clear up. I’m just worried you will be dehydrated.”
“I-I don’t think I am, but probably wouldn’t hurt to get something to drink.”
“Tea then?”
Jon nodded with a hum. “We should get changed into something drier.”
“Probably. If you would like to take a quick rinse, I’ll have tea ready for you. Maybe absorb some extra water in the process?”
Jon laughed. “Rehydrating doesn’t work that way Martin. Our skin is basically waterproof.”
“I mean for people that are more skin than eyes, yeah, but you, you got so many extra eye ducts, Maybe?”
“The fact that I can still cry probably means I’m not completely dehydrated, since tear glands normally will stop producing when the body starts to detect dehydration and it begins to prioritize other systems in your body for that liquid to go into. Not to mention I’m also not showing any signs of Dehydration other than maybe I’m a little thirsty?”
Martin leaned in to kiss Jon’s forehead. “Okay. I’ll make some tea, you get cleaned up. “
Martin got out of bed and made his way out of the room. As he opened the door, a kitten ran in and began to smother Jon with headbutts and purrs before he had a chance to get out of bed.
“Traitor. Jon needs to shower.” Martin looked to them both with a smile.
“I'm afraid I can’t move Martin. I have the heaviest 2kg currently locking me to the bed.” Jon fell over into the bed and Marshal laid on his chest and began to headbutt Jon’s chin.
“Seems like a you problem to me. I’m making tea.” Martin paused in the doorway wondering if Marshal had been waiting there all night as his foot felt a warm spot on the floor. “Just a thought for later, but think anyone ever installed a cat door for their bedroom door? Would that be weird?”
Jon burst out laughing. Between the smoothing from a kitten and Martin’s: ‘oh Marshal was sad we should ruin our fucking door for her’, Jon couldn’t handle them both. “It would be. Yes. But when has weird ever stopped you before?”
“Hm. Yeah. Good point. Hope the heaviest 2kg gets lighter before your tea gets cold.“
“I’ll be out in a moment.”
--
“Are you sure you are ready to talk about it?”
“Yes. I’m, well I’m not better, but certainly better than before.”
“Alright.” Martin held out his arms to invite Jon to cuddle with him on the couch. Jon took the invitation, quickly followed by Marshal taking home on his lap. There was an awkward second before:
“Rebecca is Dead.” Jon didn’t hesitate like he thought he would, swallowing a whimper when Martin let a little gasp and reached for one of Jon’s hands. “It was never a message from the Web and the End. I’m thinking it, if it was a message at all, it would be from the End only. The Mr.Spider was only, hm. That book never was going to take Rebecca. She never read it, so it couldn’t have. But the Book of the End. It got the exact scenario it wanted.”
“If it wasn’t the Mr.Spider book, what happened?” Martin stroked Jon’s hand with his thumb, avoiding one of the eyes there. Gentle reminder he was there for Jon. Jon had told Martin about the book in the future, and he remembered the details enough to not ask for them.
“It was- it was because she could read it in her nightmares, where the End normally does it’s bidding, almost too simple even. It, A Guest for Mr.Spider, was empty on the first two nights, while staring at an empty book is unnerving, it isn’t quite a nightmare after the first time.” Jon nuzzled into Martin a little. “And I’ve told you about what I’m like in my Domain before. How-” Jon coughed, he didn’t want to get Admiral banned. “So you know. I gave a little push.
“I knew the contents of the book so to complete the nightmare, I provided the details. The small nudge to complete the nightmare that felt unfinished the other two nights. Heck, I’m probably the only one alive that knows it’s contents other than the Web? but regardless. She made it to the end of the book with my help, and the End took her.
“When she knocked, the door opened, Mr.Spider wasn’t even there, and... Well I Saw the End as she walked in. In its entirety. Martin, it was nothing like the domains in the future. Nothing like the Roots. They were just the pull of it. Never quite the End itself. What I saw was...it was...
“It was inevitable?” Jon choked a laugh at how simple the words clicked after there were no words moments ago. “It was just like ‘oh’ and I Knew.
“The Mark is so deep Martin. Even if I were to somehow travel to my birth, the Mark will be there. As well as my End. There is no branching choice or action that can alter it.“
“Wait, you mean you saw your death? That is-” Martin sounded uneasy.
“It’s not soon, not even terrible really, just, like I said, just ‘Oh’.”
“But your scream…and your voice after...” Martin wasn’t going to just ‘oh, if you say so.’ not with this.
“That was probably a side effect from looking someplace I shouldn’t have. It hurt to look at. The End is probably more antithetical to me than any of the other 14 could dream of. Same way that the ending of a book ends the tale, nothing more to Know no matter how often you read it. There will one day be nothing to find, nothing new after breaking down every word and meaning. And when time is more a concept, that moment will be the same as this one. So, it hurt.”
“Oh.”
“Mmhmm, it's enough to unpack, that screaming was about the only way I could.”
They were silent, only the sounds of a Marshal’s purr, and a tape recorder nearby.
“What would happen if you shared the details?”
“Hmm, anyone in earshot would probably go deaf from the first syllable. The End doesn’t share its secrets.”
“You almost sound like you changed evil gods.”
“That would be wild. Terminus would probably be the only able to convert an Avatar. But no. I’m still the Archive. Still me.”
There was a comfortable quiet to the room as a neighbor made some noise in hall on the other side of the wall. Like something was dropped.
“If the End doesn’t share it’s secrets, why’s it got a book that tells people how they die?”
“Because it’s feeding on the readers. It’s not feeding on me.”
“Hmm. Suppose you open it. Will that change what you saw?”
“Do you want me to die sooner?” Jon has a teasing tone.
“No, no of course not, Jon. Just, if people are listening, what about a book that tried to record. Would it, I dunno, destroy the book, or would it record fine, but make it so the readers from then on, go blind or something?”
“Hm, it would render the book useless either way. They wouldn’t be able to read past my page, to make it to their own. Would probably shift the book's alignment to the Dark with enough time. Feel like it might not be worth it to attempt.”
“So to the Artifact storage?”
“Mmhmm. Probably the safest way.”
“Slap on a big old ‘biggest cursed objects. Will cause death’ label on it?”
“Yeah. These shouldn’t see the light of day again.”
“You seem to be handling this well, better?”
“The initial shock wore off, I’ve just got some thinking to do. There are some complications to consider for later... But Martin. Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean just found out my boyfriend knows when and how he is going to die. Just another Wednesday morning with you.”
“Hmm is that a joke from bad coping method or-”
“Jon I’m fine. This is hardly the weirdest thing.” Martin buried his face in Jon’s shoulder. “Say Jon.”
“Mmm?” Jon leaned into him.
“Lets move in together. Having two flats seems silly, and I never want to go back to a home when you aren’t in it.”
“That would be nice. I’d like that.”