Chapter Text
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
-Alexander Pope
Chapter 1: A Long Ride
“I really loved you, you know.” the words ring in Jon’s ears, that statement is more haunting than the hundreds he’s recorded. He's just as doubtful of those words as he was of most things before. Before everything.
“It will be a long drive, so pack some stuff in a backpack.” Jon explained. Martin was not all there, he was still frozen. His body cold, his mind numbed. He looked at Jon and nodded. Jon never made that sort of face at him, that worried, serious look, where his mouth downturned in something other than a scowl or frown, and his brown eyebrows, flecked with a few grey hairs furrowed, creasing the skin between them. Jon's face had changed and warped from when they had first met. Whatever fat he had once had upon his cheeks had vanished, leaving him sharp in every aesthetic. Scars “decorated” most of the area of his face, holes from the worms, cuts. He’d lately stopped shaving, and now there was a scruffy mustache and “beard”. Had he not felt so numb in the moment, he would have tried to write something, an ode to his “saviors” beauty. Yet he remembered what he had said in the fog.
Martin packed up what little clothes he kept now. Mostly sweaters, khakis and jeans. In his closet, in the far back, there was a T-shirt. “Worlds Kindest Co-Worker” it read in a dark blue upon a light blue material. He wanted to react, but just let a few tears slide down his cheeks, stinging, bringing an uncomfortable heat to his cold face. He remembered the day it was given to him, a birthday at the archives. In the breakroom. He had just turned 29, but his coworkers thought he had just turned 32. Tim had given him this, and then had joked that he’d get Jon one saying “World's Grumpiest Boss” and the two could match. At the time the idea had filled Martin with a sort of hopelessly romantic joy. Now he throws it numbly into the bag, hoping Jon doesn’t remember it.
–
An 11 hour drive to the safehouse in Scotland. So they’d have to stop. 5ish hours each day, a planned stop in Weatherby to stay the night. Jon could function without sleep well enough, and he’d just recently been fed a rather “heavy meal” with Peter Lukas’s statement. He was still somewhat human, or at least he tried to convince himself he was. Martin was his biggest worry, he needed rest, and a warm place to sleep. He needed to know that Jon wasn’t going to let him go, not again. It had been 2 hours, neither had said much of anything. No music was even playing. It was a rental, but Jon had grabbed his CDs.
“Would you mind music?” Jon asked, looking at Martin, who was curled up, staring at the road ahead.
“Music?” Martin looked at him. It had never once occurred to him in his time working with Jonathan Sims that the man would enjoy music. Or perhaps he assumed the only thing he would listen to would be independent scholarly classical composers. He let a smile onto his face imagining what “music” Jon would have in store. “Sure.” He responded.
Jon grabbed out a CD case, it was full. He handed it over to Martin. “Pick whatever you’d like.” he said, a smile on his face now in response to the other’s.
Martin flipped through the slots, Velvet Underground, Neutral Milk Hotel, They Might be Giants, The Beatles, He stopped at a strange CD, it was not a band he knew of, it read “The Mechanisms” over the front, and had a photos of a group of college aged band members, most dressed in costumes, with leather long coats, and frilly shirts. Next to what he assumed was the bands lead singer was a 19-20 something Jonathan Sims, with a harmonica and guitar, like a time traveling steam punk, long haired Bob Dylan.
“Is this really you?” Martin pointed to the costumed man on the CD. Jon’s face changed before he even looked, embarrassment over his features, his dark olive skin blushing.
“I should have thrown that out ages ago.” Jon said, sighing.
“Well I am certainly glad you didn’t!” Martin laughed lightly, feeling amusement take over him, he felt, and it felt good. He inserted the CD into the player, and a distinct sound came from it. A rock opera type with interesting vocals.
“Oh my goodness, this is amazing!” Martin laughed fully now, the numbness was slipping away, replaced by something that might have been described as joy- or something like it.
Jon raised a hand to place over his forehead, rubbing in disappointment. “It’s ridiculous!” He sighed. Martin only responded with a laugh.
–
Before they knew it, they’d reached Weatherby. Slowed to drive through a urban setting, they looked for somewhere to stay. A small inn seemed to be the best option, so Jon parked the car, and they both grabbed out backpacks with overnight items. The snacks that they had been eating were not as filling as a real meal could be, and even if Jon didn’t need to eat, Martin did. The inn was named “Phillips Inn and Cavern.” Jon only hoped that “Phillip’s cavern” had some sort of food.
The building itself was old, brick and wood, and the inside had likely been renovated in the 80s, with tacky wallpaper, and a confusing carpet. The woman at the small wooden desk was watching videos on her computer when she was interrupted by Jon ringing the service bell. “A room please?” only a few minutes after he’d asked, they left with the keys, and directions to get some dinner.
The “cavern” was a bar and grill type place, and was in fact, in the basement of the building. They sat down at a cramped booth, and looked at a dull menu. Old 50’s classics played over the audio system in the place, and the bar only had about 5 people sat about it.
“It smells nice-” Martin commented, catching Jon somewhat off-guard. A singular brow raised as he looked at Martin
“Normally these places smell like cigars and mildew- but it smells nice…” Martin added. Jon only smiled.
They ate their meal, and talked, unserious and entertaining, they allowed each other to be human, to try and ignore the crumbling all around them. They loved it.