Chapter Text
At first, they weren’t sure Jon would make it.
Martin woke up in the basement of Hilltop Road, curled around Jon’s body in the same protective embrace he’d held him in at the Panopticon what felt like only moments before.
It was Jon’s body and not Jon because his heart wasn’t beating. He’d needed to die to cut the tether, so that’s what he’d done.
Martin didn’t know how he’d gotten Jon’s heart going again. He’d learned enough from caring for his mum to know that CPR didn’t work on people who died from physical trauma. Restarting your heart didn’t matter when you’d been killed by blood loss.
But Martin panicked and tried anyway and somehow it worked.
He immediately bundled his shirt over the wound to stop further bleeding and found an old wired phone at the bottom of the stairs. Praying it worked, he dialed the one number he had memorized: Basira’s.
By some miracle, she picked up.
“Martin?” she’d said, incredulous, and then spent the next minute trying to calm Martin down enough to understand what he was saying. “I’m on my way, keep him from bleeding out.”
Five minutes later there was a knock and, surprised Basira had been so close, Martin dashed upstairs to let her in.
It wasn’t Basira.
A man with a large briefcase and long coat stood on the step. “Basira called me. Where is he?”
“I- w-what? Who are you?”
The man pushed inside impatiently. “Dr. Midec, a friend of Basira’s. Now, take me to your friend so I can keep him alive.”
“Boyfriend,” Martin muttered as he led the doctor down. He opened his case to reveal an array of medical equipment. Martin watched him work, trying to stay out of the way and help where he could. Please don’t die, Jon, you promised together, don’t go where I can’t follow, hold on Jon, hold on…
And then the doctor was asking for Martin’s hand to prick a finger and test blood type. The time it took to process was the longest five minutes of Martin’s life, even as he watched the doctor set up a field transfusion kit just in case.
O Negative. He could save Jon.
He gladly held out his arm and nearly sighed with relief watching the blood pump through the tubing. A forever and a half later, color began to creep back into Jon’s cheeks and his breathing seemed easier. Martin started to relax, just a little.
Then Basira was there exchanging rapid words with the doctor but Martin was too exhausted to bother paying attention. He held Jon’s hand and allowed himself to drift for a while. He woke when Basira shoved orange juice and a small packet of biscuits into his hands and ordered him to drink up. He obeyed without argument.
He realized the doctor was gone. When had he left?
Basira sat next to him as he nibbled his biscuits without speaking; she seemed to understand his silence.
The doctor returned, carrying a new suitcase and a long, bagged object. He gave the suitcase to Basira and opened the bag to reveal a cot. He swiftly set it up, then he and Basira gently moved Jon onto it. Then the doctor left again.
“What happened?”
Martin blinked at Basira, who was sitting next to him against the wall again. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. He numbly explained everything to her, the words spilling out of him as if on their own accord. He told her about how after he sent them to blow the gas line he ran up the stairs as fast as he could, how when he burst into the room at the top of the Panopticon he’d thought he’d made it on time. Then he’d seen Elias’s body and he felt like his life had ended too.
Basira’s horrified expression melted into pity as he told her about how he’d tried to get Jon to leave, get him out of the tower; how there was no other choice, that Jon held him and curled into him as they were swept away by the Web, how Jon died in his arms. That he woke up here and somehow… somehow Jon was still here and they had a chance.
And then Basira told him that it had been a year. A whole year since they stopped the Nightmare World. She explained that people remembered, and people knew that the Archivist started all of it; that even though the memory was fading, like a bad dream, there were still a lot of people who would know Jon and a lot that would want to hurt him.
“But… he saved them.”
“Most of them don’t care,” Basira said not unkindly. “It’s probably best the two of you stay out of sight for a while. Harv and I will take care of everything for you until it’s safe to move Jon.”
“Where can we go?” Martin asked miserably.
“We’ll figure it out. For now both of you need to rest. No-” she said, holding up her hand to stop Martin’s next question. “I’ll answer more questions when you’re a little more coherent. You look l ready to pass out any moment.”
Martin acquiesced, lacking the energy to argue. She wasn’t wrong.
Dr. Midec returned with a second cot, which Basira helped him set up next to Jon’s.
“I’ll be back in about an hour with some blankets and food,” Basira promised. “Nobody comes in here, so as long as you’re quiet, you should be reasonably safe. I own the property anyway, so it’s not like you’re squatting.”
Martin’s brow furrowed, but he knew she would only shake her head. She was right; he was tired. After Dr. Midec assured him he would check in every hour and Basira further promised to return with supplies soon, Martin crawled onto his cot and, with his hand firmly clasped around Jon’s, fell asleep.