The Eye Blinks

Martin K Blackwood is usually not the kind to get angry at things, like truly furious to a point where he’s yelling and slamming doors in other peoples’ faces. He is, not that Jon would ever tell it to him, more the kind to quietly fume and give snarky answers when spoken to, beneath the thinnest veil of politeness.

Watching him argue with other costumers at the shops when they’re being rude to the staff and not care in the slightest that the person he’s talking to is twice his age is glorious in its own way, getting a passive aggressive “Oh, I always thought you liked your tea that way” along with a cup of tepid, almost tarlike black tea after Jon had taken his husband’s current book without asking and lost Martin’s page whilst reading himself, less so.

Even that doesn’t happen too often nowadays, not now that there is no Jonah Magnus doing is utter best to get under Martin’s skin with every word while Martin can’t actually do anything about it, anymore.

That is, of course until Daisy and Basira’s arrival in Scotland. Martin has never had the easiest relationship with either of them, but Daisy had been the closest thing Jon had had as an ally during their last months at the archives so he’s at least trying to be open about her. Basira is another story though.

At this point, two days have passed since their arrival and up until now, Martin and Basira have actually managed to be civil to each other. Or rather, to be as little in the same room as the other as possible and ignore them if it couldn’t be helped, which had worked out quite well until now.

Daisy and Jon are out again of course despite the rain; strolling along the shore or the footpaths that snake all along the hills and fields around the village, armed with the only two sets of raincoats and umbrellas that had been lying around the house and there’s really not much to be done around this middle of nowhere besides reading.

Looking back, Basira could have just returned to the spare bedroom she and Daisy are staying at for the time being after they’d left, but even the thought of spending the entire day cooped up in that tiny room makes Basira jumpy. It’s been ages since she’d stayed at any place for more than 24 hours at a time and locking herself up in a single room, is not exactly what she wants right now. The open living room that takes up almost half the lower floor at least is more spacy than the adjoining, rather squat rooms and it is rather comfortable with its overflowing shelves and sitting area in front of the glass wall facing the beach.

At first, even Martin’s presence had not really been noticeable with him typing away on his laptop at the dining table on the other side of the room and occasionally squinting at the screen. Until he is finished with that anyway and powers down his computer, which means that there’s nothing between his frown and Basira anymore, except her book which isn’t quite large enough to fill out her entire field of vision.

“Just what exactly is your problem?”, she finally asks, looking up from her page and right at Martin.

“Are you serious?”

“I am, so either spit it out or stop looking at me like that”

“You really want to know?”

“Would I have asked otherwise? You may think, you got the whole quietly sulking thing down, but it’s still pretty obvious to everyone else”

Perhaps spending almost an entire year on her own and hunting for the love of her life had not had the most positive influence on Basira’s social skills, but the words are out now anyway and she’s not in the mood to take them back. Not after two days of Martin quietly glaring at her whenever they were in the same room and not once opening his mouth.

“You’re unbelievable”

Basira merely raises an eyebrow, closing her book around her index finger and setting it down in her lap.

“Like I said, either get it out, or deal with it on your own but spare me your wounded puppy schtick”

“My problem”, Martin says after a short pause deliberately slowly and calmly, “is what you kept pulling with Jon after he came back to the archives”

“Talk about holding a grudge”

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Martin’s eyes narrow and his hands close around the edge of his laptop, “I didn’t mean to remind you of wanting to kill my husband- and don’t tell me, that I’m exaggerating; I overheard enough of what you and Melanie were talking about when he wasn’t with you”

“You mean, while you were holding his hand and helping him regain his humanity and not turn into some creepy all-knowing monster?”

“I was trying to gain Peter Lukas’ trust, you know that”, Martin hisses, face paling in anger, “Or do I really have to explain the concept of loneliness to you?”

“Don’t tell me, you didn’t enjoy hiding all alone in your little office and have us deal with everything”

Basira feels her face heat up as Martin’s skin goes almost white. If both of them weren’t so angry, it would probably be rather funny to watch her go bright red in anger while Martin blanches for the same reason.

“Do you really think, I wouldn’t have told Peter off the day Jon woke up if I’d had the chance? That I wouldn’t have tried to get him out of all of this and keep him save? That I enjoyed, knowing all of you were in danger and I couldn’t do anything to help?”

Martin’s hands are trembling, and he isn’t quite sure whether it’s from anger or fighting the urge to burst into tears but he tightens his grip around his laptop anyway and stays right where he is, feet firmly planted against the wooden floor.

“Oh, I’m sure it was terrible for you, cutting yourself off from everything like you always did while we were literally swarmed by monsters and had to fight”

“And I forgot, what a fucking spectacular job you did with that- oh, that’s right, you didn’t. Melanie was always on the brink of going absolutely ballistic and almost died from her slaughter-mark until- right, until Jon noticed she still had that bullet in her leg and the damage it had done to her before he got it out and she stabbed him with you merely looking on”

“That’s not how that went down”

Both their voices grow louder with every word and before long, they’re full on yelling. It’s already probably the longest conversation they’d ever had.

“It isn’t? Sorry, I must have mixed that up with the memory of Jon having his ribs ripped out to have an anchor when he went into the buried to get your girlfriend back and you did… that’s right, you went on Elias’ wild goose chase”

“I was trying to help her, and Elias was my best choice”

“Obviously”

“Because you deserve an award for piling Jon’s stupid tape recorders around the casket?”

“I just tried to do something, since he didn’t exactly have anything or anyone else at the archives to anchor him- might have had something to do with all of you cutting him out and making him feel like a monster”

“You knew what he was doing; you talked to the women he’d compelled! He was a monster!”

“So were Daisy and Melanie and you had no trouble hanging out with them and not making them feel like shit for losing their humanity!”

“They never attacked innocent people! They deserved help”

“Because going beserk on anyone is totally normal, defendable human behaviour! Ever thought about how everything would have gone down if you’d stopped alienating Jon for a second and tried to help him? How much easier it would have been for him to fight-”

“I didn’t want to be in charge at all! I only was because no one else, very much including you, couldn’t be bothered and I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it was fucking hard, trying to do anything and not get anyone killed without holding three people’s hands!”

“That’s not what I’m saying”

“What are you saying then?”

“I’m saying”, and at this point, Martin forces himself to take a deep breath, both his and Basira’s voice still ringing in his ears, “that you’re a fucking hypocrite for not caring when Daisy succumbed to the hunt while you made Jon’s life miserable about becoming an avatar of the beholding. That’s my problem with you”

“And I have a problem with you bailing on us and now trying to turn me into the bad guy”

“I don’t have to try very hard”

“It’s not difficult to see you as the hypocritical coward you are either”

“Well then”, Martin bites out after a short pause, which is filled by both their heavy breathing as they continue to glower at each other across the room, “I’m glad we settled that then”

“Yeah, was a fucking pleasure to talk to you”

“Likewise”

The feet of Martin’s chair shriek as they scrape over the floor. He barely pauses to grab his keys from one of the tiny hooks next to the doorframe on his way out and slams the door shut behind himself. Basira gives him a minute head start before she’s yanking on her jacket and too leaves the house.

Once outside, she can barely make out her former colleague’s receding silhouette through the downpour and turns the other way before she starts running. She doesn’t stop until her sides feel like they’re about to split and she has to slow down to a slightly less agitated walk. By the time she returns to the cottage around sunset drenched, Jon and Daisy are already back, getting dinner ready.

Basira heads straight to the downstairs bathroom to grab a shower. If she sees Martin setting the dining table and trying not to step on the kitten that’s winding her way around his ankles as he walks, she doesn’t spare him a second glance. They don’t exchange another word for the remaining time she and Daisy stay with them.

Basira merely holds Daisy a little tighter in her arms that night than is strictly comfortable for either of them, but Daisy doesn’t push her. She merely asks whether they want to go for a run together tomorrow morning, and some of the tension leaves Basira’s body when she kisses her. Martin doesn’t really want to say anything to his husband either, but that night, when they’ve retired to their bedroom upstairs, Jon sits him down at the foot of their bed and asks what’s happened while he and Daisy had been gone.

“I suppose, you two didn’t exactly sit down afterwards and come to an understanding, huh?”, he asks softly, when Martin mutters a cliff notes version of their fight.

“Not exactly”

“Both of you just left in a huff?”

“It was either that or switching over to a physical confrontation and I’m not exactly the fighting type”

Martin just about manages to keep straight face when Jon laughs quietly and kisses the lines on Martin’s forehead that haven’t really gone away all evening.

“Are you feeling better at least?”

“A little”, Martin admits, not meeting his husband’s gaze, “kind of said everything I’d wanted to say. Kind of also said a lot of things, I shouldn’t have said”

“That does tend to happen during arguments I’ve been told”, Jon tells him in a soft voice and, when Martin still doesn’t look up, decides fuck it, and climbs onto his husband’s lap, pressing close, “would you want to… have an open conversation with her? In a slightly calmer tone of voice?”

“I don’t think either of us is going to change our minds”

Martin doesn’t add that he certainly won’t, since he’s right but that’s kind of the point anyway.

“I guess, it’s not like you’ll have to spend a lot of time together in the future either”

“Not very bloody likely”, Martin agrees, such a bitter line around his mouth that Jon is almost tempted to laugh again.

“Will you manage to get through tomorrow without physically attacking one another?”

Martin can feel Jon’s soft smile when he kisses his cheek and sighs a tad more heavily than necessary.

“Barely”

“Okay then”, Jon whispers as he lays his forehead against the side of his husband’s face, “but you will tell me if you need-“

“Jon, I’ll be fine. I’m not five years old anymore and can handle dealing with someone I… I’m not terribly fond of for treating my husband like shit”

“Would it do anything, if I disagreed with that statement?”

“Probably not”

“Alright then”, Jon says softly, “I’ll just try and come up with something fun for us to do the day after tomorrow then, something you can look forward to”

“You’re aware that you’re being ridiculously sweet, aren’t you?”

“I’m not”, Jon grumbles half heartily, minty breath flowing against Martin’s jowl from where he’s still pressing close to him, “I just don’t see the point of letting you be miserable when I can actually talk to you and try to make you feel better”

“Okay”, Martin says after a short pause of fighting the urge to propose to Jon all over again, voice just a little choked up, “you do that”

---

The following day is as awkward as you’d expect, but it passes uneventfully. Jon and Daisy go for a last walk through the neighbouring villages while Martin retreats into the study upstairs and buries himself in his classwork to not have to be in the same room as Basira who gets through two books in a similar way. It’s easier than facing the remainders of the argument that’s still sweltering between them.

When Daisy and Basira leave on a cool Sunday afternoon, only Jon and Daisy hug, Basira and Jon say goodbye and Daisy waves at Martin, who shows her a weak smile.

“Everything alright?”, Jon asks, not even trying to keep the laugh out of his voice, once Basira and Daisy are out of sight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

Martin doesn’t quite manage to hang onto his neutral expression, when Jon throws his arms around him, gets onto his tiptoes and plants a kiss against his cheek.

“I’m sure you don’t”

Jon grins up at his husband, hair loose and blowing over his face and eyes in the breeze. Martin is pretty sure Jon has smiled more in the past year than during the whole time they’d worked at the archives. Which honestly isn’t that much of a challenge anyway and these days it’s really not all that hard to make Jon smile, but Martin can still coo.

“Nope”, Martin agrees but really, life’s too short to let his… ex-colleague cast a shadow over a day with his gorgeous husband so he mirrors Jon’s expression and, just because he can, doesn’t just hug him back, but lifts him up and Jon throws back his head and laughs when he wraps his legs around his husband’s middle.

“You know, I forget”, he tells Jon sweetly and Jon’s eyebrows rise on instinct, “did I carry you over our threshold after our wedding?”

“Yes, and up the stairs at the safehouse”

Jon is giggling at this point and Martin takes a moment to just bask in it.

“But not here? That just seems rude”

“Does it now?”

“Oh, yes”

“Then there’s really only one thing to be done about it, isn’t it?”

“Watch your head, my love”