Chapter Text
"Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not. Maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else."
"Together?"
"One way or another. Together."
"I don’t think I can…"
"It has to be you. The Eye won’t let me do it."
"Are you sure about this?"
"No."
"But I love you."
"I love you too."
Nothing.
Martin didn't want to look. He didn't want to open his eyes to see what had happened. Because God knows something happened. He couldn't have just killed his boyfriend. He couldn't have just killed Jon.
So he sat there, sobbing and clutching.. nothing. Jon was gone. He was gone. Martin didn't even get to hold him. He didn't even get to..
He held himself instead; let himself fall onto his side and shake uncontrollably with fear, and sorrow, and guilt.
That was it. Jon was dead. The fears were likely still there. And Martin was alone. So fucking alone. And it was all his fault, wasn't it?
No.
No, he was better than to think that way anymore. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's but Elias. And- And- Peter! And Jon's stupid, reckless arse running off to be a martyr!
He let out another sob.
Goddamn it. He was going to die there without Jon. Without Jon.
He could hardly wrap his head around that thought. Jon. He was... he was just gone. After everything. Everything they'd been through. Jon was dead. And it was... Well, that part was technically Martin's fault. He could accept a little bit of the blame.
Jon was dead. He was dead. And gone. And Martin was alone. And alone. And alone. And alone. And alone-
"Could you fuckin' stand up?" Someone snarled.
Martin did not move. But oddly enough, he was comforted by the presence of this complete stranger. This stranger with an angry, irked tone and the voice of a man who's never had a mouth sans a cigarette.
Martin still couldn't gather enough effort to move. He felt horribly empty. But he made a small grunt to let the person know he wasn't a corpse.
"You're in my bushes, Asshat."
Wait. Martin's thoughts came to a rearing halt. Bushes?
Hold on, who was this bloke? Why was he near Martin? Wasn't Martin in the panopticon? Where was he?
At this point, he found it appropriate to finally sit up and get an idea of his location.
He almost choked on his own saliva.
The man in front of him was clearly not human. He was thin and slender with pale green skin and long black hair tied up into a haphazard bun that matched his pitch dark beard. He wore a soft looking, dark green dressing gown and slippers, and Martin was slightly shocked to catch a whiff of the petrichor scent he gave off.
"You're green," was the first thing he managed to choke out. The urge to lie back down and die of shame coursed through him alongside his confusion.
"And you're on my property," the odd man snapped.
"Sorry, Sorry!" Martin scrambled to his feet, brushing the mulch off his trousers. As he did so, he finally got a real view of his surroundings.
It was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. Previously, he'd been lying in a garden of shrubs in front of a modest wooden cottage almost overflowing with plant life. The wood still had bark and leaves on it, making Martin almost believe the trees had shaped themselves into this home of their own will.
Around the house were many more trees decorated with flowers and dotted with berries. The sun shone through the thick leaves and cast a warm glow over it all, almost causing tears to form behind Martin's eyes.
And despite the glory of the woods, there was something about the way the colour danced on each leaf and grain of dirt, and the way that each animal that passed seemed to be staring...
He stepped off of the mulch and hurried to the grass around the house. "Is that... Alright?"
"Still on my lawn." The man raised an unimpressed eyebrow, making Martin feel smaller than he had in years.
"I'm deeply sorry. I just.. woke up here."
The man exhaled heavily, and Martin could have sworn he heard the trees quake. "Fine. Ye don't seem to be lyin' to me, but if you hurt my forest again-"
Martin hurried to defend himself, "I wouldn't dream of it! I value nature deeply, Sir." He paused, contemplating pushing his luck. "If you could give me directions though...?"
The man practically growled, "To where."
"Oh!" He hadn't truly expected that to work. "To the nearest town?"
"Nearest town, huh? You stupid?"
"What?"
The corners of the man's mouth twitched, and Martin could tell he was close to blatantly laughing at him. "There's no town near here for days."
Martin had to manually close his jaw. "That can't be true! Where even are we?!"
"You're in my forest."
"And who are you?" He pointed an accusatory finger at the man.
"Gill is fine."
"Hardly an answer."
The man, who was now identified as Gill, frowned, "I'm bein' awfully generous to the person who crushed my garden."
Martin lacked a comeback to that one. "Fair point. Er. I'm Martin." He held out his hand.
Gill took one look at his outstretched hand and turned away, heading back to his house. "Look, lad, you're going to need resources if ye plan to travel to town. These woods aren't made for humans. Full of shit like washers and wisps."
"What?" Martin found himself losing track of what Gill was saying. His accent was terribly thick.
He groaned, opening his front door, "Just come in. You can stay one night. Then out, out, out with ye, okay?"
Martin nodded firmly, "Thank you so much. I really owe you-"
Gill's expression soured significantly, "Ye can pay me back by shuttin' the fuck up."
He silenced himself quickly.
Martin settled into the rather cozy robe he'd been given in place of his raggedy clothes from the apocalypse. Gill had promised to wash and repair them, complimenting the craftsmanship of the jacket, and Martin concluded that name brands likely weren't a thing in this odd place.
He'd also been offered a bath in a small stream, but Gill offhandedly mentioned kelpies, and Martin did not want to risk it. He could go another day without a shower.
Gill was sitting at his small wooden table, seemingly coming from the floor (his house really was just one oddly shaped tree), and patching up Martin's clothes while waiting for the water for his soup to boil.
He seemed a lot more pleasant towards Martin than when they first met. Martin wasn't graced with smiles or pleasantries, but the swearing had simmered down to a few damns every now and then, and his raspy voice seemed significantly less irritated.
"So," he set down Martin's repaired trousers, "Human, yeah?"
"Yes?"
He leaned back in his wooden chair, grabbing the shirt from his counter. "Now, Martin, I wouldn't accuse you of lyin' to me. Hell, I doubt you yourself even noticed. But I find it a tad difficult to accept that you're human."
"What?" Martin on the other hand sat upright, ready to defend his humanity.
"You're not really entirely here, lad. Every now an' then you look off into the distance, and it looked to me like your body was gradually evaporating into smoke. Or steam. Or something of the sort." He turned the shirt around to stitch up the other side. "I'm not a very friendly creature, Martin. Not to just anyone. I don't like people. But you're not really a people. You're hardly even here."
Dread began to clot in Martin's chest, "No, no, I'm here. I am! I'm just.. if you see that happening please call to me? Or.. grab me? I can't..."
"Sure. Yeah." He shrugged, eyes leaving Martin and returning to his work. "So what is it? You a spirit? A ghost?"
Martin felt a pang of sorrow at the question. How coincidental. "No. Just lonely, I suppose. Please don't ask."
"Just checkin'," he hummed thoughtfully, "How'd you end up so deep in my forest anyways?"
"I woke up here."
"So you were brought against your will?"
"Something of the sort."
"Damn faeries. Probably kidnapped you from your home."
"That happens?" Martin gasped.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it did."
He let out a disbelieving chuckle, "I don't know why I'm so shocked. Either way, uh.. no, I don't think that's what happened. I uh.. you see I'm not quite from here."
"That's for sure."
"I mean, this world. Wherever I am," he tried explaining. He felt like a moron. "My world... Must've ended. Or... My partner and I were transported from it.. maybe he succeeded in stopping the apocalypse-"
"Sorry what?" Gill looked up, slightly amused.
"Nothing. What I'm saying is I'm from another world. Another universe, I think."
"Well damn. I'm hosting an alien?"
"...in a way. Sure."
He tossed Martin's clothes at him, the fabric landing on his head and over his face. Gill stood and stretched. "Doesn't bother me any. Maybe that's why you were fading?"
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Right. Sorry, lad."
Martin sat in dead silence as Gill prepared dinner for them both. He picked at the skin on his arm anxiously.
He finally let his mind wander to Jon. Where was he? Was he actually dead? Did only Martin end up in a new dimension? If that were true, Martin didn't know how he'd live on. Especially in this unfamiliar place. If Jon had been there with him, he could've guided them both together through the forests. Avoiding all the dangers that Gill had implied were lurking there. They could have made it to the town. Started a little medieval shop of sorts. Maybe gotten to live together just like in the safe house.
Martin could only hope and pray that Jon was just somewhere else in this world getting his Martin-inflicted wounds treated. That he was safe, and warm, and that he wasn't too far away.
Maybe it was a tad selfish, but he also hoped that Jon was feeling just as miserable without him as Martin was. He wanted to be needed -- to be wanted. And he hoped, despite feeling guilty for hoping, that Jon was still that person who longed for him.
Of course, above all Martin wanted Jon to be safe, but he wanted immediately second for him to miss him.
And on the topic of guilt, Martin couldn't get over how horrible he felt about being the reason Jon could be dead. The memory kept replaying in his head. Jon in front of him, tears blinding both of them. As much as they could blind Jon. Martin hadn't wanted to, but he did anyways. He didn't want to. He never would want to. Why did it have to be him? He would do anything to go back in time. Back to before everything. He'd tell Jon how he felt, stop Elias somehow, and then he and Jon would be able to live together and be free from any fear gods or monsters.
But that would never happen. It couldn't. And, if Jon was alive, Martin would take a small medieval village any day. And if Jon wasn't alive...
A bowl clinked on the table in front of him, drawing him out of his trance. He realized Gill's hand was on his back and that the man was looking at him with deep concern.
"Oh- thanks," Martin winced, "sorry."
"You were doin' it again."
"I know."
"I called your name like four times."
"...I know."
"...are you okay?"
"...Not really," he managed to admit, "Just busy missing someone."
Gill sat down, sliding a wooden spoon across the table to Martin. "Your partner?"
He looked up, "oh. Yes actually. How did..?"
"You mentioned them. When you said you're from Another place. You said your partner and you."
"Oh."
"Mind telling me about them?" Gill asked as he sipped from his spoon.
Martin considered it. He wasn't sure if it would help or make things worse, but he hadn't really gotten the chance to talk about things in a while. He hadn't had someone who'd listen.
"His name's Jon. Jonathan Sims. He's short, far too scrawny, but lovely all the same. He's kind. But stubborn. And a bit selfish. But also not? He's... He never actually understands what other people want. What we need. He just... Assumes we want x, y, z and runs off to go do them without clarification. Even if he's hurting himself in the process.
"That doesn't mean I don't love him though. I do. I care about him so damn much. And I know he cares about me too. I want nothing more to see him, but... I don't even know where he is. If he's even still alive! And that could be my fault.."
Gill didn't say a word. And Martin looked up to meet his eyes, scared for pity.
Gill didn't look sympathetic. Not really. Just... Interested. Like Martin was telling a good story.
He didn't know whether to be offended or thankful.
"...if I'm leaving tomorrow.. I worry I'll disappear before I can find him. That I'll be alone again."
At that, Gill chuckled flatly, "You cannae be alone in these woods, lad."
"Fine. Sure. Not alone. But lonely," he ran a shaky hand through his hair, "I doubt any of the murder ghosts in your forest are eager to have a casual chat with me."
"Hey," Gill dropped his spoon in his now empty bowl, letting the clattering sound echo through the home. "I take offense to that."
He actually laughed. "Alright, fair enough. You've been pleasant."
"Aye," Gill stated firmly, "now eat your soup before I do."
He nodded frantically and started on his dinner.
Martin hadn't realized how tired he was.
It wasn't the same sort of tiredness that he'd felt in the Upton House; that was sheer exhaustion. This was something different.
He was tired of walking, of go, go, going all the damn time. And lying on the oddly cozy sofa was just enough to let himself relax.
It was nice. That was it. Just... Really nice. To finally lie down and rest without any looming danger.
He curled up and yanked the duvet up to his neck. He was comfortable. What a revelation. Comfort hadn't been something he'd felt in a very long time. There was nothing in the world that could make it better except for Jon. If Jon were there with Martin, all would be well. That little ache in his chest could subside and he could finally, wholly relax.
He wrapped his arms around himself in the attempt to trick his brain into thinking that it was Jon there to hug him, or that it was actually Jon whom he was holding. In the past he would have called it sad. Pathetic even. But after everything that'd happened? The Lonely, the safehouse, the apocalypse... Martin would allow himself this simple pleasure.
He imagined that Jon was there on the large couch next to him, face buried in his chest and arms wrapped around his body. He imagined Jon looking up, only briefly, and flashing Martin a warm smile that Martin had been longing to see for so long. He thought about getting to kiss him again, to hold his thin hands and walk through whatever this planet was. Together. They could get a house. They could live together in a house that was all their own. Wasn't that a lovely thought? Martin would find Jon, either in the forest or in that town Gill had described. And they would hug, and they would kiss, and everything... Everything would be right.
They would struggle through mundane problems together, like a burnt breakfast or a rude neighbor. Maybe they would have to diffuse conflict with a moody Brownie, if that was the sort of thing that existed in this place.
That was another thing. It seemed to Martin that fae was common in this world, and he guessed that Gill was some form of one as well. Gill was kind though, a bit sour, but kind. Faeries in folktales and stories were so frequently described as either cruel, sinister, or just devious in their own ways. They were called tricksters. But from his first experience with fae, they seemed rather hospitable. Maybe when Martin made it to the town he could ask around. Get a sure idea of what sort of creatures existed.
But for now, that was a problem for future Martin. He needed all his focus for convincing himself that Jon was with him. He hoped that Jon was missing him just as much.
"Try not to get lost, lad," Gill patted Martin on the shoulder.
"I'll try. I don't know what I'll do if I begin to.. y'know," Martin said wearily.
It was early in the morning, and it must've rained last night, for the grass outside was covered with dew and, just like Gill, reeked with petrichor.
Earlier, he had given Martin his washed clothes and shoes. Martin took them graciously and changed, returning the robe.
It wasn't cold nor hot outside, and Martin's coat was far too large to wear for the trek. Gill had offered to keep it for Martin and almost grinned when he got his hands on it again.
They'd gathered supplies and food for Martin, storing them in his backpack, which Gill had also repaired.
"Remind me of what to avoid again please?" Martin looked back before he exited. He had a rather justified fear of the unknown. After everything he'd been through on Earth, he was used to Jon being there to Know where they were and what the dangers were. This time Martin was... On his own. He needed some semblance of an idea of what he was getting into.
"Stay away from lochs, and any horses near streams or rivers. Don't follow strangers, voices, lights, music, et cetera. Don't hurt any animals or plants either. And don't give out your name."
"Right," he murmured as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "So.. guess this is it?"
"Don't make it more dramatic than it needs to be, lad," Gill shut the door in Martin's face.
Oh.
Well.
He sighed. That was fine. Gill was an introvert. He was just eager to be alone again. It wasn't Martin's fault.
It wasn't Martin's fault.
He turned around, gripping the straps of his bag as if it would give some sort of reassurance. It hardly did. He looked at the path in front of him. It was lush and thick with plant life, and birds tittered at Martin as he gathered the courage to walk forward. He couldn't psych himself out. There was too much at stake.
He took a deep breath and a hesitant step onto the dirt. His boots sunk in slightly, making him wince a bit. It would be fine. He pulled his foot up and began walking, trying his hardest to ignore the squelch of the mud underneath his boots.
The forest loomed over him, the leaves rustling with unknown things watching over Martin as he walked. But he'd be fine. He had to be fine.