Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He jumped for his phone the second he heard the buzz. It only took a second to wake up the screen and read the new notification, but it took less than that for all the eagerness to deflate out of him. It wasn't the notification he wanted, the one he hadn't received in three days. With a heavy sigh, he dropped back down onto his bed and let the phone tumble from his hand. He couldn’t even find it in himself to care when he heard the loud crack of it hitting his floor.

Three days. It wasn't really even all that long but it felt like an eternity. Like time was moving through tar and he was caught with it.

Perhaps he was being overly dramatic about it, but something in Scar felt completely justified in his current state. It had been just under a month that he had known the man, but there had been something about him that just felt right.  

They had matched on one of those dating apps where you were supposed to look at profile after profile of half-truths and vague details and figure out who you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with. And maybe that was a bit of a cynical way of looking at it but he couldn't help it, he was a romantic at heart. He had been so sure there was zero chance he'd find someone, let alone 'the one' when he downloaded the app in a fit of boredom. He figured he'd swipe a bit until he got depressed over the whole thing and deleted the app. He never expected to actually connect with someone, never expected Grian. From the start, Grian and him seemed to click in a way that felt so familiar. If Scar didn’t know any better he’d say it was like they had known each other for years.

Now Scar sat, all the happiness from the past few weeks souring to misery, waiting for any word from the man he'd been on several dates with over the past few weeks. The man who had been talking to him nonstop for nearly a month until going radio silent a few days ago. The man who had stood him up yesterday.

His friends would tell him to get over it, accept that he'd been ghosted and move on with his life. Pick up the chips that tumbled from his cracking heart and start mending it before the fractures spread further. That didn't feel like the right answer though, something in his gut was telling him this wasn't that. He maybe didn't know Grian that well but he didn't strike him as the kind of person to just disappear. Maybe it was just Scar’s tendency to see the best in people but something deep within him it wasn’t Grian’s way of breaking it off. Not when Grian had looked at him with more warmth in his eyes than Scar had ever thought possible.

Scar had always been the kind to fall too hard too fast, and Grian had been no exception to that. Unlike every other time though, Grian had been a safety net to catch him when he too easily fell over that edge. From the very first day when they were merely texting each other to get to know one another, Scar found himself overly excited for each new message, staying awake later than he should so he didn't have to stop talking with him. He had asked him on a date as soon as he felt he could without his eagerness coming across as weird and scaring the man off. That first date though, he swore something just clicked. He thought it had for Grian as well. He had sworn he saw something real in the way Grian had looked at him that first date when they had met up for the first time. Figured the pull that tugged him into Grian’s orbit was a mutual one.

But it had been three days since he heard from him and Scar was starting to think maybe his friends would be right. Still he couldn't bring himself to do anything other than wallow in his own misery and argue with himself about sending another text.

He really shouldn't. He had already sent seven texts since the last one Grian had sent him. One more would probably look desperate. He was desperate though, wasn't he? Even if Grian would send him a text saying he never wanted to see him again it would at least be something. A knife sharp enough to cut the tether that had anchored itself in Scar’s chest. He needed some form of closure on this, then he could at least move on properly.

With a heavy sigh he reached down for his phone. One more try. Then, if there was still nothing, he would give up and delete the text thread instead of obsessively reading back through it. Just in case he could figure out what he'd done wrong and maybe fix whatever dumb mistake he had made this time. He had probably read through every message at least ten times in the last few days and still he couldn't figure where it all went bad. One moment they were discussing plans for a night in with take-out and a movie the following night then Grian stopped responding. He never said anything else. Never showed up to Scar's apartment like they had planned.

That night, Scar had debated heading over to Grian's apartment. Just in case he had misinterpreted and they were supposed to be meeting there. But they had made the plans over text instead of a phone call and Grian had clearly said he'd come over to Scar's and pick up the food on the way. So Scar had sent a text asking Grian if he was on his way, and waited. Until he fell asleep on his couch, waking up hours later, alone, with a sore neck and no word from his date.

You could still go to his apartment, a small part of him whispered, you know where he lives. Scar considered it a touch longer than he reasonably should have. There was no way showing up to the apartment of the guy who ghosted you was a good idea. At best, Grian was likely to slam the door in his face. Scar thinks he would in his shoes. Maybe he had to force the confrontation though. Maybe he could show up at Grian's and Grian would yell at him for doing so and not taking the hint. Maybe then he could break whatever hold Grian had on his heart. His mind. His soul?

He clutched his phone tighter as he stood and made his way to his apartment door, grabbing his keys and slipping his shoes on. Grian only lived a few blocks away, he could probably get there before losing his nerve.

He was halfway there before his conviction started to waver but he refused to let himself turn around. He was going to do this, and one way or another he wasn't going to be throwing himself a pity party anymore.

He was only a block away when he rounded the corner and saw the flashing lights. The street was painted blue and bustling as a small crowd gathered to watch the uniformed officers walk in and out of the apartment building. His heart quickened as he approached, not sure what was going on as he reached the back of the crowd.

He couldn't see much but turned to an older lady standing beside him. "What's going on?"

The woman turned to him, a sparkle of gossip in her eyes. "Apparently one of the residents was found dead an hour ago. I heard maintenance entered to follow up on a request put in and found him on the floor. Sounds like he lived alone, wonder how long the body would have sat if it weren't for the broken whatever it was." Scar felt disgusted by the woman's obvious glee in getting to be the one that shared. Someone had died and she was just happy for a bit of gossip. 

It was only after he turned away from the woman that he remembered Grian venting to him over the phone about a week ago about a wonky flush on his toilet that he had to put in a maintenance request with the landlord for. "It will take him days to send someone. Thankfully I've not had an emergency yet. Cheap bastard would probably take his time on that too."

Dread pooled in his stomach as Scar began moving forward again, not caring as he bumped into others in his attempts to get closer. Eventually he reached the front of the group and nearly stumbled into one of the officers as he broke through.

"Whoa there buddy, I'mma need you to keep back unless you live in the building. M'kay?"

"Please." Scar wasn't sure what he was asking for exactly but he knew he was desperate for it. When the officer cocked an eyebrow at him he took a deep breath to focus himself and tried to string together a proper sentence. "The guy who died, who was he?"

"I am afraid that is classified information there sir. The police are still investigating and I can not divulge any pertinent details at this moment."

"Was it Grian?" Scar hated how the police officer's entire body stiffened at his last question, it was all the answer he needed. "It was wasn't it. Oh god." He felt his knees buckle and the officer reached out to steady him.

"Hey now, easy there. Why don't you come over here with me and we can find you someplace to sit down huh? Maybe get you some water. Then we can chat a bit okay buddy?" Scar could only nod as he heard the officer call for someone to take his spot and lead Scar to the curb to sit down between a couple of police cars parked there. "Deep breaths there buddy. Okay? In and out with me." Scar didn't even realize he had begun hyperventilating but tried to match his breathing to the officers, suddenly feeling very lightheaded.

Once he was mostly sure he wasn't going to pass out, and only slightly sure he wasn’t going to throw up, he turned back to the officer. "What- what happened? Please I need to know."

"Look, I'm really not-" The officer rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Okay, why don't you start by telling me how you knew the victim, eh?"

Victim. The word nearly sent Scar spiraling again but he forced himself to take a deep breath and answer. "We were- I meet him less than a month ago but, we were seeing each other." I might have loved him . Would have if I had more time.

"I see. Would you happen to be the 'Scar' we found in the phone we recovered at the scene?" Scar just nodded. "Well, I'd say nice to meet you Scar but…" The man held out his hand. "I'm Officer Leman. I think we wanted to talk to you anyways but, I don't think you're in any kind of shape for that now. It's late so why don't we get an officer to escort you home so you can get some rest and If you wouldn't mind just coming by the station tomorrow sometime we can have a proper chat then, yeah?" Scar just nodded again. He didn't want to talk to anyone, not tonight, not tomorrow, possibly not ever again. He felt the officer give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he stood up and went to go talk to someone.

It didn't take long for Scar to get home in the squad car of the officer that had been sent over to help him. After that it was all a blur as he made his way inside, changed, and fell into bed. He looked to his left and saw the small grey cat plush sitting by his pillow and was flooded with the memory of Grian presenting it to him on their third date, told him that he deserved a cat of some kind even if his lease wouldn’t allow the real thing. Scar had cried then, overwhelmed with emotions at the gesture and then embarrassed at his reaction. He remembered how Grian had reached up and placed a soft kiss against his cheek after Scar had apologized for the outburst and attempted to stifle his tears. "Never apologize for being you, to me or anyone. I adore how much you feel things, how deeply you care. Because it’s real, because it’s you."

Scar wanted to cry now. Wanted to feel. To let himself crack under everything. There was nothing though, simply an empty, gaping wound in his chest he wasn't sure would ever be filled again. He reached out and grabbed the cat, pulling it tight to him, wishing it were enough to fill the aching gaps.

It wasn't.

…

The Police building shouldn't have been so intimidating, but it was tall and looming and Scar wanted to be anywhere else. He forced his feet to move though and climbed the steps to the door and into the building. It was busier than he expected considering it was nine-thirty in the morning on a Saturday, but it was easy enough to reach the front desk.

"Uh hi, I'm Scar Goodtimes? Last night Officer Leman asked me to come by today and talk. Or answer some questions? I'm not actually completely sure if I'm being honest. My experience with things like this kinda starts and ends with television shows."

The man working the desk looked him over, and nodded. "Skizz mentioned he had someone coming in to give a statement on the Xelqua case. Right then, this way. Pretty sure he just got in for the day not too long ago so we get to interrupt his morning coffee." The officer stood and walked around the desk, motioning for Scar to follow before heading deeper into the building.

They didn't have very far to go, easily reaching a larger room with desks scattered about and at one of them Scar recognized the officer from the previous day. He was slumped in his desk chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, taking the occasional sip from his mug. When he saw the two of them approaching, he straightened up and smiled at him and Scar noticed crumbs of what was possibly a donut caught in his horseshoe mustache.

"Scar Goodtimes here to see ya Skizz. Unless you're too busy with your daily crossword there mate."

"Shut up. At least I'm keeping my brain active. Gotta stay sharp somehow hmm?" Officer Leman shot at his coworker before turning back to Scar. "Sir Scar thanks for coming in. Really appreciate it."

"Welp, I've got paperwork to do, good luck Skizz."

"Thanks for bringing him over Jimmy Jiggles."

"Oi, not that one at work. Come on man." The other officer walked off as officer Leman chuckled and turned back to Scar.

"So…" Scar trailed off, not entirely sure what he was expected to do or talk about.

"Yes right, thanks again for coming in. I just wanted to ask a few clarifying questions about your relationship with Mr. Xelqua. What you knew about him, where you were three nights ago, just general questions to help with figuring out what happened." the officer rambled, waving his hands about as he spoke.

It took a second for the list of questions to click in Scar's mind. "Where I was three nights ago? Why does that matter? You think I did this?"

"No buddy, not at all. This is just standard questions. I- We don’t think you did it at all. We just need to establish a picture of what happened is all, m'kay?"

Scar wasn't stupid, he noticed the I changed to a we. Someone did think he was a suspect. The thought sent a wave of nausea over him, that he would have been capable of hurting Grian somehow. "I was getting dinner with my friend Lizzie. I can give you the name of the restaurant and her contact info if need be. But please, can you tell me anything about what happened? Anything please?"

The officer pressed his lips together and glanced away towards the stack of papers on his desk briefly before looking back. "Look, we don't know much yet. Medical is still working up a full autopsy to determine cause of death and there wasn’t much to go on at the scene. Why don't you tell me more about how you knew him, yeah? You said last night you guys were dating?"

Scar sighed. "Not very long. We met on an app around a month ago. And I don't know if dating… We weren't anything official, at least not yet." And now we never will be.

"Alrighty, and you were headed to his apartment yesterday were you?" Scar nodded. "So you've been there before, familiar with the place?"

He bristled at the question, a strong guess at what he was really asking. "Only outside when I've walked him home after a date. I've never even been inside the building." He didn't give himself time to think it over before he was asking. "Why? How did they find the apartment? What state was he-" Scar choked on the words, not wanting to know the answer but also needing to.

Officer Leman glanced around quickly and sighed. "I should not be telling you this." Scar leaned forward, eager and anxious. "As far as we could tell, there was no sign of forced entry. If someone else is responsible they were either willingly let into the apartment or had access of their own."

"That’s why you thought I could be a suspect." Scar mused, watching the guilt flash in the officers eyes. Then he paused. "Wait, 'if' someone is responsible? What does that mean?"

"It means we're still waiting on medical reports. Look, I wasn't kidding earlier when I said we were still unsure on cause of death. He had no injuries, no signs of foul play. But…"

"Healthy people in their thirties don't just drop dead?" Scar finished for him. The weight that had been pressing on his chest since last night, probably for the last three days if he was being honest, settled against him. Growing heavier. The officer just nodded and offered him a sympathetic pat on the back of his hand. "Anything else? Because I think I'd like to leave now."

"Just one more thing, does this symbol mean anything to you?" He reached over to the folder on his desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper before sliding it to Scar.

He knew the officer was watching for he reaction as he took it and glanced over it but it wasn't something Scar had ever seen before. It was a rectangle, taller than it was wide and empty in the middle. The lines of the rectangle were thick but in two of the corners opposite each other, the line had been segmented. Instead of forming a full rectangle, in the top left and bottom right corners sat a square, detached from the rest of the shape.

Scar shook his head. "I've never seen it. What is it and what does this have to do with anything?"

Officer Leman raised his brow, "Nothing hmm? That there is the symbol of the Watchers. A small and very secretive 'religious' group. Between you and me though? I've heard that it tends to lean to the more cultish persuasion."

Scar was still confused. "What does a weird watch-y cult have to do with any of this?"

"Because," the officer leaned in, "Your buddy had that symbol tattooed on him."

… . … . …

The room was loud, although he supposed it was supposed to be seeing how it was a concert. Or concert adjacent at least since Joel had been almost offended at the idea this was a concert. If you asked Grian though, it was a band, several of them really, playing music for a crowd. Joel was stupid.

If he had any musical talent of his own perhaps he would have been backstage right now with him and Tim. Getting ready, shaking off any pre-show jitters. Instead he was all alone in a dark room, warm from too many bodies packed together and terribly sober. At least he could fix one of those things, if he could manage to push his way through the mass of people watching whoever was currently on stage.

It was a decent band, a trio of performers, though he hadn't heard the name that had been said when they took the stage. A larger man with a yellow bolt of lightning down his face that connected to a shock of the same color through his hair sat behind a drum set, striking a quick but heavy beat. Behind a keyboard, a smaller man, though still taller than Grian, with hair reminiscent of cotton candy, stood with a guitar slung across his back, leaning into a mic to add melodic and haunting harmonies to the song. The lead singer drew all the attention though, with her avalanche of red curls, crooning into her own mic as she gazed out at the crowd with a predatory look in her eyes. Or eye, since the left was black as void. He wondered briefly if it was a contact due to the black makeup fading into cyan glitter that surrounded it.

He resigned himself to not knowing though as he continued to push his way through the crowd, ignoring the way the song seemed to tug at him, despite not being able to properly hear the lyrics in the noisy crowd.

Eventually he managed to make his way through the crowd, counting it as a win that only two people had accidently sloshed whatever they had been drinking onto him. Most of it had rolled right off the leather of his jacket thankfully, and for the first time he was glad Joel had bought it and goaded him into wearing it. He grabbed a napkin off the bar to wipe at the bit that had spilled onto his hand and ordered a Long Island iced tea from the bartender. It didn't take long before the bartender was handing him his drink and Grian was sliding the money for it across the damp surface of the bar. He turned around as he took a sip and tried unsuccessfully to keep his face from scrunching a bit at the strength of the drink.

"Maybe you should've ordered something else if you didn't like that one." Grian slowly turned his head to the side to see the singer from the band that had just been onstage raising her eyebrow at him with a grin on her face. Apparently their set had ended while he was crossing the room and he hadn't noticed. He glanced behind her at the stage but didn't see his friends so he probably hadn't missed them yet. Good. He really didn't feel like getting yelled at by Joel the entire way home.

He shifted his attention back to the singer. "Who says I don't like this drink?" He took another long sip to prove his point and felt he was more successful at schooling his reaction this time. "Its strong and does what it needs to. What else is there to like?"

She tilted her head, regarding him. "I think you'd like a cosmo more. Tastes a bit better and still gets the job done."

"And how would you know what I'd like?" He challenged her, taking another sip of his drink, finally getting at least a bit used to it now that it was halfway gone.

Her eyebrows raised slightly, "Huh. Not met him yet, have you?" Before he could ask her what she meant she pushed on. "I just know these things sometimes. Call it a sixth sense if you will. I know you'd enjoy a cosmo the same way I know tonight is the last night Gem and the Scotts will ever play. At least as for a very, very long time."

She had lost him. "Wait, who are Gem and the Scotts?"

He felt he should be offended by the exasperated sigh she let out. "Just another band that will never take off. Never see the fruits of their labor come to pass."

"How do you know they're not playing again though?"

She waved a hand, "Don't worry about it. Its not your problem yet. Soon though I think. I’ve nearly got it G."

He wondered if this conversation would make more or less sense if he were less sober and took a big gulp of his drink, polishing it off. "So what's your deal other than saying weirdly cryptic shit?"

She laughed, he wasn't sure if it was at him or with him. "You'll know in time," She glanced slightly to the left  and he saw her eyes light up a bit and a smile that sent a shiver down his spine crossed her face. "Maybe sooner than I thought. Do yourself a favor, order the cider they've got on draft to go with that cosmo." She gave him a wink and turned away, calling out to a girl in a red hoodie talking to her blue-haired band-mate.

He simply shook his head and turned back to the bar he never had a chance to step away from and motioned for the bartender. He wasn't really sure why he found himself ordering the cosmo and the cider, but he did before turning around to check the stage while the drinks were being made. Instead he turned and found his view blocked by the broad chest of a man. He could feel the heat in his face as he slowly lifted his eyes, letting them rake over the skin exposed by the mostly unbuttoned shirt. Eventually his eyes made their way up to the man's face where a hint of scruff surrounded a dazzling smile, and further up to green eyes that made the rest of the world fall away.

It was strange, how many times memories had come flooding back to him time and time again throughout his lives. Still he was never used to the consuming wave because he never remembered it before the moment it happened. Never had the chance to brace himself for it when he didn't know it was going to happen until it blindsided him.

"Why hello there," The words were familiar but new all at the same time and they made Grian's heart stutter every time. "What's a pretty face like yours doing all by itself tonight? Unless you're not by yourself?" His eyes flicked to the bar behind Grian where, upon turning, he saw the two drinks the bartender had just placed.

Grian handed him the money with a brief thanks, before grabbing the cosmo and taking a sip. Why did Gem always have to be right. He could give her grief about the way she talked to him next time he saw her. If you remember her. He ignored the whisper in the back of his head, choosing instead to put his focus towards the man in front of him. 

"Just me, the friend who asked me to order the cider just abandoned me to chase after her… well I'm not sure if she's her girlfriend or an ex right now. Maybe something in-between." He gestured at the glass behind him. "Don't suppose you drink cider?"

The man's green eyes sparkled, "Funnily enough its what I was on my way over to order."

"Funny how that is."

"Well if you're friend is gone and you're not going to drink it, I could always take if off your hands for you."

Grian let the coy smile split his face. "Oh I can't just give it away for free now. I'm afraid it will cost you."

His laugh was bright and sharp as he responded. "What will it cost me then?"

Grian took a step closer, nearly touching the man in front of him. "What will you give me?"

The man mused for a moment before leaning in just a touch closer, "Lets start with a name maybe? See where the night takes us from there? I'm Scar."

"Grian."

He never did see Joel and Tim's band play.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Scar had gotten a proper night's rest. He had already been feeling it when he trudged out of the police station four days prior after Officer Leman, Skizz, he'd said to call him, gave him his number and sent Scar on his way. The officer had said to reach out if he thought of anything else that might help or if he just wanted to talk. The card with his number was still crammed into the same spot in Scar's wallet, untouched as the bags under his eyes grew deeper.

Nothing made sense anymore. Grian was gone and he'd left behind so many questions Scar craved the answers to but hadn’t the first clue how to get them. He had spent a couple days searching the internet for any information he could get on the Watchers, and why Grian would have their symbol tattooed on his body. Was it a joke or dare from a friend back in his college days? What if it was something he had been dragged into and escaped? Or was he just waiting to mention it to Scar, when they had grown closer and Scar was too in love to see the red flags waving. The tornado of questions tore through his thoughts, erasing all semblance of order.

Most of what he had found online were rumors of the religion’s culty-er tendencies, probably over exaggerated by people trying to get their own slice of virtual fame. There were a few scholastic articles he skimmed but most everything he could find was old, nothing from the past several decades. After several hours he decided to abandon the computer and digital search, instead walking the several blocks to the library to search periodicals there. Still though, there wasn't much. Only mentions here and there. Whoever the watchers were they kept to themselves and out of the public eye it seemed.

He lost count of how many hours he spent combing through the stacks, eventually though he found one study on fringe religions containing an interview with a supposed follower of the Watchers. He flipped the few pages to the transcription of the interview, ignoring the rest of the preamble.

Interviewer (I) : Thank you for your willingness to speak with me today. First of all, are you comfortable disclosing your name if I publish this study?

Watcher (W): *hums* I suppose so. I have nothing to hide after all. That’s why I'm here is it not?

I: Yes it is. Can you introduce yourself then, for the recording?

W: I am called Xelqua by my brothers. But you can call me Grian.

Scar nearly tore the paper as his grip tightened. He wanted to believe it was a coincidence but somehow he knew that couldn't be the truth. This study was near eighty years old. Maybe it was someone related to his Grian, a grandparent or other relative. Grian could easily be a family name passed onto him, the man never talked much about his family and maybe this was why. Maybe they were all part of the Watchers but Grian had left. That had to be why he never talked about his family or the weird cult they were a part of.

Scar took a deep breath before he continued reading.

I: Okay Grian, and how did you come to join the Watchers?

W: You could say I was born into it, in a way.

I: And you've never thought to leave?

W: Why would I want to?

I: They don't have the best reputation do they? We have dozens of statements from former victims of the Watchers and their own experiences.

W: Its as you said, they were 'victims'. I'm not a victim. I know what the Watchers ask of me as Their acolyte and I know what I receive in return. Just because some can not see what the Watchers do for us does not mean it doesn't happen.

I: And what do the Watchers do for you?

W: The Watchers have opened a path for me to find happiness. Connected me to my partner and keep us safe. I don't suffer because I'm loyal to Them.

I: Are you loyal because you believe in Them? Or because you feel like you owe Them?

W: I think this interview is done.

…

Scar almost missed the notification sound of a new text arriving on his phone when it chimed at the same time as the oven timer began to buzz.

It had been nearly a full day since he'd found the interview in the library and he was now surrounded by plates of cookies and other various baked goods he'd made since getting home. He had slept maybe forty minutes since then, all in short little bursts between putting batches in the oven and starting the next one. He knew he needed to get a proper night's rest soon but every time he tried to sleep, he was haunted by nightmares. Each of them starring Grian. Each of them ending with Grian's death, following which Scar would shoot up, awake and hyperventilating and already moving to start a new batch of cookies or a new loaf of bread.

No two nightmares were exactly the same, which made it worse, in a way. Each dream was a new horror he couldn't quite get used to. He had seen dozens of versions of Grian die in dozens of different ways. There was a knight Grian who pledged fealty to a Scar, a prince of some royal family, before falling in combat to an enemy blade. Grian and Scar had been farmers, working the field together until Scar had to watch him slowly deteriorate from the plague. Grian, dressed in flowing purple robes welcoming him into a temple only to choke on a ceremonial wine that had been poisoned. Scar lost him over and over again and could do nothing about it each time.

So he baked and tried to keep his hands and mind busy. The steps were familiar, recipes he had made a dozen times over, so familiar it was as easy as breathing. Creaming the butter and sugars together with his favorite wooden spoon until his arm was aching, then pushing it further as he added each egg, one at a time. Measuring out the flour and spices then adding just the right amount of baking soda to get a perfect texture on the cookie and working it all together until it’s a proper dough. It wasn't something he needed to put much thought into but it didn't leave enough empty space in his mind for the nightmares to push back in.

He used a towel to pull out the latest batch of cookies, a nice simple lemon that he planned to dip in some lavender icing to finish. Setting the tray above the last batch of his makeshift cooling rack he set the towel aside and glanced at his phone where it lay on the counter next to the open container of flour. Placing the lid on the jar he picked up the phone to read the new message waiting for him from an unsaved number.

Wanted to let you know they finalized the autopsy. Ruling it an accident, said all signs point to sudden cardiac arrest. Sorry buddy. - Officer Skizz Leman

The officer had also shared a link to an obituary website that listed details for the funeral arrangements, apparently being planned by his step-sister. He added ‘step sister’ to his growing mental list of things he didn’t know about Grian then shot a quick thanks and placed his phone down again, screen against the counter. He was pretty sure he should be feeling something right now. Relieved, maybe, to know that it wasn't a terrible murder where Grian had somehow been made to suffer at the hands of a religious cult he may or may not have been a part of? Except what if it wasn't an accident? What if the Watchers were capable of making it look like one? From what little he had found. He knew they had been involved in some shady things in the past. Even if legally no deaths had ever been attributed to them it was highly suspected they had been involved in at least a few mysterious deaths. What if they had just gotten better at covering up their tracks?

He knew he was falling towards the side of conspiracy theorists but something just felt off in his gut about the entire thing. There was something more to this. Grian had that tattoo for a reason, hadn't mentioned it to Scar for a reason. There had to be a reason for all of this because if there wasn't and the world was just that cruel to rip away the only person he'd ever foolishly imagined a real future with… he wasn’t quite sure he could handle that.

He reached for another stick of butter.

…

It had been several years since he'd last been to a funeral. His nice suit was just a bit tight on him now, even without a tie and the top couple buttons left undone. It maybe wasn’t the most appropriate for the occasion, he didn't think Grian would mind though. On their fourth date, Scar had chosen a nicer restaurant that they had dressed up for. Grian had spent the night alternating between complaining about how uncomfortable his nice shoes were to wear and putting on a haughty affect as if he were an old aristocrat and making Scar laugh.

  "I don't see what the point is in getting all fancy just for some more expensive food," He groaned as they walked into Scar's apartment, promptly kicking off the offending shoes and dropping himself onto the couch. "What you wear doesn't affect the flavor and you'd probably even enjoy it more in a pair of sweatpants that you weren't worried about staining with all the fancy sauces."

"Mmm but maybe I just really like seeing you all dressed up like this." Scar teased, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it by the door. "You looked really good tonight."

"I look really good every night." Grian huffed and Scar smiled.

"Yeah, you do." He loved the way Grian's face would just get the smallest hint of color as he refused to make eye contact.

Grian reached for him instead and Scar let himself be pulled down to the couch, nearly on top of Grian. "You look better without this silly tie though," He began to work at the knot to get it undone but just left the tie hanging loosely around his neck. Then Grian kissed him until they both were short on air and had to pull away, however briefly.

Scar smiled as their foreheads rested against each other. "Next time we skip the tie and the shoes then, hmm?"

Scar never got his next time. There had been lunch dates and movie dates but Scar never got to take Grian anywhere else nice like that first time. Never got to see him all dressed up and wearing a pair of silly slippers like Scar hoped to one day do.  He wondered what they had Grian wearing, all laid out in his casket. He really hoped they didn't put him in those shoes.

The sun was far too bright in the sky as he walked down the sidewalk to the bus stop that would take him to the cemetery on the edge of the city. It should have been cold or raining or something to reflect the misery Scar was feeling in his chest. He should have stayed home, shouldn't have subjected himself to this. He didn't want to go to Grian's funeral, didn't want the finality that would come with watching them lower him into the ground. Of forever being just some guy he went on some dates with,  not even important enough to be told directly of the funerary plans.

Once on the bus he sat down and slumped in the uncomfortable seat, hoping this day will be quick. "You alright there fella?" The voice was loud beside him and he jumped in his seat. "Whoa, sorry its just- You don't look like you're doing too good." The blonde haired man beside him gave him a once over and frowned. Scar wanted to feel offended but truly didn't have it in him. He knew he looked rough. After days of little sleep the circles under his eyes were far too pronounced to be healthy. Combine that with the scruff he hadn't shaved off and his barely combed hair and he probably was a sight in his too small suit.

"Don't think its easy to be 'doing good' when you're on your way to a funeral." It was a bit rude, but Scar didn't care.

Neither did the stranger next to him. "Oh, yeah that sucks alright." After a moment he added, "You also going to Grian's then?"

For the first time, Scar began to pay proper attention to the man beside him. "You knew Grian?"

"Yeah, emphasis on the 'knew'. We were in university together way back. We were close then, hadn't heard from him in a while though. Then I saw…what happened. Figured I'd come pay my respects or whatever. How'd you know 'im?"

"Oh uh, he was- we were… dating." It wasn't a lie, not really. They had been going on dates, even if Grian hadn't been his boyfriend, Scar didn't have to admit that. He had decided people could draw their own conclusions, which it seemed like the blonde next to him was doing as Scar watched his face shift through a few different emotions.

"Right. That sucks man."

 Scar just snorted. "You're telling me." He made no attempt to keep the conversation going, not interested in awkward small talk. He just wanted to get through this funeral and go home and continue hiding from the world like he had been the past few days. Thankfully the man seemed to be able to take a hint and let the rest of the bus ride pass in relative silence.

The funeral itself seemed to somehow drag on and blink by all at the same time. Scar wasn't sure he could repeat anything that had been said, mostly zoned out for the service as people he'd never met talked about who they knew Grian to be.  He stood in the back of the tent set up over the small plot prepared, the sun angled just enough to beat down on the back of his neck and leave him sweating through his undershirt. He was perhaps the most uncomfortable he had ever been.

He hadn't cried when he watched the casket slowly be lowered into the ground.

When it was all done, he wanted to leave, to wander off with everyone else, but he found himself rooted to the spot. The already small crowd thinned and soon it was just a few people milling about, talking or stepping up to the new grave, still an open hole in the ground. An uninvited thought floated its way through his mind, how easy it would be to let himself fall in and join him.

 He shut the thoughts down fast and turned to leave, to get as far away as possible. The only thing that stopped him was the man from the bus in his way. He nearly lost his balance trying not to run into him but managed to steady himself in time to decline the hand reached out to help. "Sorry, I just- I'm ready to leave. I didn't see you there."

"Listen, mate, you wanna grab a drink with me? I want one and you look like you need one quite frankly." Scar could have laughed if he was capable of it at that moment. The last thing he wanted was to sit in a bar and talk to someone, even if maybe a drink didn't sound half bad right now. He was about to say as much when the man spoke again. "I'll pay for however many drinks you want, but there's something I think I need to talk to you about."

He could feel the exhaustion creeping in his bones as he sighed. "I appreciate the offer but I really must-"

He was cut off by the blonde. "I really think you should get a drink with me Scar."

And that finally gave him pause. He tried to think back through their earlier conversation but couldn't seem to remember giving the man his name. He didn't know his name either, just some other person who once knew Grian. "I never told you my name. And I know no one else here so they wouldn't have told you my name."

"I know." The man tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something. "Like I said, we should really talk. Not here though." He glanced around, and Scar wasn't sure if he was eying the stragglers from the funeral or the headstones around them. He was inclined to agree, this was no place to talk.

Which is how he found himself in a small pub down the road, tucked away in a dim booth and a glass of some cider, wet with condensation in his hand. "So. You know my name, do I get to know yours?"

The blonde across from him took a heavy sip from his own glass before responding. "The name is Martyn."

"Okay Martyn, and why have you brought me here? And how did you know my name already? You haven’t explained that one yet."

When Martyn spoke again after another large drink, it started out as a mumble "Fuck, okay, okay," Scar took a sip from his own glass, the cider flavorless on his tongue, just like everything had been over the last week. "This will sound a bit mental but just hear me out. So, my family, a lot of us anyways, we sometimes hear things."

"Pretty sure most of the world can hear things."

"Not like that," Martyn snapped before composing himself. "My Grandmother was a medium, and her father before her. Generations of my family have been able to hear… Well, most of them agree its ghosts and spirits."

Scar could feel every muscle in his body stiffen. "Don't you dare tell me you can hear Grian." The words came out cold and the chill settled over the table for less than a second before Martyn was speaking again.

"No, I swear it isn't like that mate. I do hear things but far as I got Grian’s not one of them." Scar's shoulders relaxed only slightly with an exhale and his fingers dragged aimlessly through the condensation now beginning to puddle at the base of his drink. "Things have been… odd, since Grian's uh, departure."

"You can say he's dead."

Martyn's gaze was wary but Scar didn't meet it as he fiddled with his glass. "Right then. Yeah. Anyways, Usually the hearing thing is just sort of background noise? I'm not able to really understand or make out what it is. Not without seriously focusing in at least." He paused as if waiting for Scar to ask a question. He didn't so Martyn eventually continued. "Its been louder here lately and some words have come in with crystal clarity like they never have before. I didn't really notice it at first, I suppose it happened gradually enough, but when we met this morning, it was silent. The most its been in a week."

"Should I be afraid to ask what they were saying?" Scar finally met Martyn's gaze, noticing immediately how uncomfortable the other man seemed in his seat.

"The voices, or spirits or whatever you want to call them, they had been saying the same thing all week. Until they picked back up after the bus at least."

"Martyn, what were they saying that you felt was so important to talk to me about?"

"Before, it was a lot of 'where is he, we can not See him.' After though I heard something say 'The other is here but he is gone.'"

Scar had no idea what that was supposed to mean. At least the second part made no sense. The first part didn't make much either but there was something nagging at him about it though. He could admit it was a bit of a reach, but reaching was all he could do and not being able to 'see' didn't feel insignificant. "Have you ever heard of the Watchers Martyn.

This time it was Martyn's turn to tense, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why ask that Scar?"

Scar just shrugged, noting the other man's defensive reaction. "Just… a hunch. The officer who talked to me about Grian told me he had a tattoo of Their symbol. Apparently it was behind his left ear and always covered by his hair so I never saw it.

"Just a hunch, eh?"

“I've been trying to research but there are a lot of dead ends. Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Martyn sighed and finished off his own drink. "Right. Lets get into this then. The reason me and Grian lost contact was because we had a falling out. Because of the Watchers." And if that didn't get Scar's attention, nothing would. "He wanted- My grandmother had warned me about steering clear of them since I was old enough to move on my own. Never gave me a real reason why but I didn't question it really. I don't know how Grian got involved but I told him not to. He made some big deal about it, how he felt 'called' or whatever. I told him it was an evil cult that would get him killed but I guess he kept on with it."

Scar was practically buzzing. "What if I told you I think it did? Get him killed that is."

"Didn't the police say it was an accident?"

"I think they're wrong Martyn. And I'm going to prove it."

… . … . … 

The thing about remembering your own past lives that no one could tell you, it tended to be overwhelming. Especially if you've barely lived any of your current life. It had been hard to act like a 'normal' ten year old when he could remember being older, remember several other versions of himself that all fought to be the one he would eventually become.

The worst thing about it though was that Grian knew, somewhere out there, Scar existed.

He had been a young acolyte with the Watchers, roaming the land in a much more nomadic fashion, temples having gone out of use decades ago. Thankfully . Those memories were some of the hardest to relive whenever they bubbled up to the surface. Much like usual though, he hadn't expected to run into another kid while on the road, one who sent a sea crashing over Grian when they met eyes. Turns out that much strain on a developing mind can cause a lot of damage if you're not careful. Grian had collapsed where he stood, luckily or unluckily he wasn't sure because when he finally came to, the other child was long gone.

He had tried then, explaining the situation as he could understand it to his caretaker, the teacher he had been assigned to who would show him the ways of the Watcher acolytes. He knew he sounded deranged as he tried to tell them of his lives but needed them to understand. Needed them to turn back and find the group they had passed. Find him.

They had kept an eye on him after that, murmuring something about him hitting his head when he collapsed. It didn’t take him long to give up trying to get through to them. He knew they wouldn't believe him and he couldn't really blame them. Even still he did.

He was fourteen when he ran away. He had been sick of the other Acolytes treating him as if he were crazy. Sick of being told what he was supposed to be doing when he had more knowledge and memories than any of them. He was sick of the Watchers. So he left, his journal and robes a neat pile for his caretakers to find.

The only problem was he had no idea where to go. It had been years since Scar had passed by them and could be anywhere in the world. So he started with making money. Several lives worth of knowledge made building the necessary skills simple enough and there were enough ways to get money with odd jobs as he traveled around.

He was 17 when the wars started, and 19 when joining the war became the easiest way to move across the land. It was easy enough to enlist for whichever army he first came across and not long before he established a niche for himself. Grian was small, even for his relatively young age, and remembered how to move silently and mostly unnoticed. It turned out to be quite convenient for picking off enemy archers, the sharpshooters that stayed far from the fray and took out a dozen men before anyone even knew where they were.

 It was where he was as he slipped the blade from the chink in the archer's armor and lowered the now dead weight to the ground. He wiped the blade and re-checked the vicinity to be sure he had a moment before moving off to find the next archer. Sheathing the now clean knife he moved back to the body on the ground, set to check it over for any resources the ill-fated man might have taken with him.

Grian was rifling through the handful of pouches on the archer when his helm shifted and the visor slid up. Grian felt the world falling out from under him as he recognized his eyes, even dull and lifeless as they were. His hands shook as he dropped down and carefully removed the helm to reveal the entirety of Scar's face.

It was hard to fight through the memories of the last time he'd seen this. It had only been the once before and still it overwhelmed him as it shoved to the forefront of his vision. Distantly, he was aware he was breathing shallowly, struggling to tell if the intense heat was real or just the memory. No. He wasn't sure if his scream was aloud or not but it echoed just the same. He wanted to claw his eyes out, never wanted to see this sight in front of him. You promised. Why would you let this happen? He’s supposed to be okay, that's what you said.

Their words echoed back through his skull, the pressure of it felt like it was spitting his skull from the inside. He may be yours. But you are Ours. Do not forget your loyalties.

He wasn't sure he would have left Scar if he was fully aware of himself, but he found himself stumbling down from the hill they were on, his own armor half discarded. He was technically behind enemy lines, shuffling forward in a daze towards an army who wouldn't hesitate once they noticed the colors he wore signaling his own loyalties. He wasn't sure he minded. Anything had to be better than the wash of memories flooding over him. Everything crashing down as he lost his carefully crafted control. It wasn't all bad, but each happy memory was punctuated by another flash of dim flat green eyes.

Eventually his legs gave out, collapsing under the guilt as it settled on his shoulders and tore its way towards his heart. He waited then, for the sharp cut of steel or anything else that was surely coming his way. He was ready, knowing that the burden would slip away soon.

No release ever came.

Eventually he had to move, leave the empty battlefield littered with bodies he couldn't look at for fear they'd morph into the one he couldn't bear to see. He moved on, never returning to the army. He wasn’t sure whether they counted him among the dead or as a deserter. He didn’t care either way. He had no other reasons to keep wandering as he had before and wasn't afraid of what would happen if they found him deserting. Instead he found himself a small house, isolated from any town or city and lived out the rest of his days.

 Grian lived seventeen more long lonely years. It was far more than he hoped, but in the end it went the same way as always. The void embraced him as he floated along to what came next, all the overwhelming memories bleeding out slowly before all he had left was a pair of shining green eyes.

Until those are gone too.

Chapter Text

His plan was half-baked at best.

Scar stood on the street, looking up at the building that used to be Grian's. He hadn't been back since that night and he pushed down the urge to turn around and run. He had a mission.

He had never been inside Grian's apartment, only ever going as far as to drop him off at the door. He could remember that night though, they had seen some movie and he had walked Grian home afterwards while the man ranted about the film.

“The film makers obviously did no research on that period of history because there was just so much wrong about it. Especially the romance subplot. Even if maybe a monarch did fancy one of their knights, there is no way they would have ever gotten married to them. That just didn’t happen.” 

Scar had just watched him with a smile. Even under the ugly and dim fluorescent lights of the apartment building’s hallway, Scar thought Grian looked good. The way his nose scrunched up and the passion in his voice for just a silly thing. It was intoxicating. “Hey,” Grian paused in his ramble and looked up at Scar who smiled and leaned down and kissed him. When the kiss broke they were both partially out of breath. “So, I thought you were a marine biology major back in school. Who died and made you an expert on history?”

The look on Grian’s face was too quick to decipher. Scar had barely even seen the dopey smile drop before it was back, slightly more forced than it had been. “Just an old interest. Next time, how about we rent a movie to watch at your place instead of the theater?”

“Now Grian that is a wonderful idea. Although who needs to rent when I have Star Wars already on DVD.” Grian’s eye roll in response had been exasperated but fond and Scar loved it.

Now here he stood again, the same dull fluorescents now washing the hallway in a sickly glow. If there was some kind of evidence of what really might have happened though, it was likely to be here in the apartment in front of him. Something the police could have overlooked or dismissed when they ruled the case an accident. Something Scar could find, would find. He couldn’t dawdle around until he was ready to face the feelings that would inevitably, like a crashing wave, come with looking through Grian's things. Soon enough the apartment would be cleared out and someone else would take it over so Scar had a very limited amount of time. If it wasn't already emptied.

He wondered what they would do with his things as he let his feet carry him into the building and up the stairs. From what he could tell at the funeral, he didn't have much family besides his step-sister. Would she simply sell it all? Would it be thrown out or shoved in a storage locker somewhere? He had no idea, all he knew is he needed to search through it all first. It wasn't until he came to the door that he realized he didn't think of a way to get in if it was locked.

Half-baked.

He reached for the door handle, figuring he ought to at least try and see if it was unlocked first. He twisted the knob and was surprised when it gave and the door began to swing open. He didn't consider someone might be inside and he should close the door and knock until he and the girl in Grian's apartment both jumped and yelped upon seeing each other.

Once he calmed his heart down, he recognized her easily. She was dressed much more casually than she had been the previous day, now in a navy hoodie and jeans. Grian's sister was just slightly shorter than Scar himself, her mousy brown hair loose around her shoulders and her blue eyes looking him over then shifting to the knife block on the counter several feet away.

Scar quickly threw up his hands, palms out and took a step back. "Whoa there! So sorry, I did not expect anyone to be here. I didn't even expect the door to be open."

She didn't untense but did seem to look more directly at him at least. "Alright then, and uh, what are you doing here? I know this ain't your apartment mate."

"No, no! I know this is- was, Grian's apartment. You're his sister, right? I was uh, at the funeral yesterday." Scar tried to give a friendly smile but her suspicion didn't seem to ease. "My name is Scar."

Eventually she sighed. "Pearl. And I'm his step-sister I guess. If you can even really call it that when our parents were only married for a bit over a year."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Anyways you didn't answer the question there. Why are you here? And on top of that how did you know Grian?" Her gaze was intense but thankfully felt much less threatening than it had a minute ago.  

"Well to be quite honest, I'm not really sure why I'm here. I just…" He felt slightly bad at the small lie, Pearl seemed nice enough. "I was dating Grian before- I'm just a bit lost right now I suppose."

Pearl just nodded, "Oh."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised if he never told you about me I guess."

"Mate, I hadn't talked to him since we were in middle school."

That one threw scar for a loop. "But, you were the one organizing the funeral? I figured you were probably close."

"Did he ever talk about me?" Scar shook his head and she sighed. "I mean, I guess I was listed as his next of kin? Apparently I was all he had left for family. Why didn't you have a hand in any of the arrangements? If you were together?"

He debated for just a moment before settling on an answer. "We uh, hadn't been together that long. I hadn't even officially asked him to be my boyfriend yet."

"I see. And yet you're so distraught over it you show up to his apartment to scare the daylights outta me?"

Scar felt a bit sheepish for the first time that day. "I know it seems silly but- We got really close really fast. It was embarrassingly easy to fall for him."

Pearl just nodded and smiled softly. "Yeah, Gri has- had that way about him. Makes you feel like you've never not known him." They both stood in silence for a moment, Scar figured she was thinking of Grian much like he was. Eventually Pearl broke the silence with a sigh. "Listen mate, I've been left in charge of sorting this apartment out over the next few days and, would you want to give me a hand? I've no clue what to do with at least half of it and, I don't know, maybe it will help ya somehow? What do you say?"

It was exactly the invitation Scar had been hoping for.

He spent the next several hours boxing up Grian's kitchen and living room things while chatting with Pearl about whatever came to their minds. Occasionally the subject would drift towards Grian and one of the two of them would quickly change the subject. By the time the sun was setting, the conversation was easy and Scar felt himself enjoying Pearl's company. She had told him about her art and her dog and he told her about his baking and how much he had always wanted a cat.

Eventually all that was left was the bedroom. Pearl opened the door and the pair of them stepped inside. It wasn't a large space, but it felt so much smaller than the square footage with the near wall to wall bookshelves. Most of the shelves were, thankfully, empty. Scar wandered over to the one shelf that was full and scanned over the titles. From what he could tell they were mostly memoirs and a few biographical books mixed in. It didn’t look like the books had much in common besides their genre but he guessed it made sense. Grian had been interested in history but also seemed to like knowing how people worked, what was going through their heads. It had been an odd quirk sure, but Scar never minded.

He continued his way around the room while Pearl stepped out to grab a new stack of boxes to begin loading things into. There wasn't much of note at Grian's bed, the red comforter pulled back from when he assumed the police were searching through the apartment, and a small blue parrot plush tucked into the corner against the wall. Next to the bed was a small writing desk with a neat row of six identical books lined up along the back. The spines were blank, no indication of what they might be, so Scar grabbed the first one in the row and opened it.

At the top of the page was a date, the first of the year six years prior, and below that was mostly legible handwriting. It was a journal, Grian's journal.

‘Even for how cold it was, there were more people out at the park today. They were probably taking advantage of having the day off for the holiday. There were people of all sorts, including a family with young kids feeding bread to the ducks. I just watched, even though they should really know bread is bad for them, frozen peas would be better.’

He was only able to read a few lines before he heard footsteps coming back and snapped it shut. His heart was racing, all day going through items and he hadn’t seen a single thing that had been able to help him before now. Maybe the journals were the key, the thing that could get him in deeper, bring him closer to proving what he knew in his gut.

Pearl was next to him before he could decide what to do. "I can't believe it, after all these years he was still using that same style journal." She picked one up and riffled through the pages. "Some people never really change I guess."

"He's been journaling like this since you were kids?"

"Yeah, it was part of his nightly routine, even when we were on vacation he wouldn't turn out the lights until he finished writing whatever down. I think it was something his mum got him started with before he lost her. Guess it went from parental bonding to grief processing to a lifelong habit.”

"What was he like?" The question fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. "As a kid I mean. He never told me about his childhood."

Pearl placed the book down and began to stack the others on top of it. "He was a bit of an odd one. Our parents were only really together for a year or two, but we did grow close in that time. He was quite the prankster I'll say, but there was more to him than that. He was a year older than me but he wasn't afraid to be seen with me around school, y'know? He'd even invite me to eat lunch with him and his friends since I had just moved schools when we moved in with them and I didn't know anyone yet."

Scar watched Pearl lift the stack of journals and place it into one of the boxes she'd set up. "Doesn't sound like he was too different from the Grian I knew. Nice to know he really was just a great guy."

"That he was. I think my favorite memory was when we stayed up late one night to watch a movie that was, admittedly, scarier than I should have been watching at that age. I couldn’t sleep after that, and Grian told me I just had to 'replace the story in my head with a new one. Then he came up with some grand story that he told me until I fell asleep."

"What was the story about?" He watched Pearl move on, turning her back to grab another stack of books off the shelf. Moving quickly, he grabbed the top journal, the one he hoped was the most recent, and tucked it into the back of his waistband under his shirt.

"It was some silly thing." He was pretty sure she didn't notice the slightly smaller stack as she covered it with a few more books. "He made up a story about these gods that lived in the in-between of life and death that wanted to know what it was like to be human so they watched over them. He said they had followers on earth who would travel the world and pass on what they've seen to these beings and in turn they would be granted wishes for helping them. I think there was some other things he said, but I was pretty much asleep by then so I'm not sure exactly what they were."

Scar worked to control his breathing as Pearl talked, seeming to grow more at ease as he grew tense. He let Pearl lead the conversation through the remainder of the evening, ready to finish and see if there really were any clues hidden in the writings Grian left behind and what it might say about the Watchers he had known about for so much longer than even Martyn had thought.

It was late when they finished closing up the last box. Pearl told him she had people coming to move them out of the now bare apartment in the morning and thanked him for his help. He simply nodded and held the door of the building open as they stepped out into the cool night air. Pearl looked around for a second before she stopped and smiled and Scar followed her gaze to the street to their left. Parked there was a motorcycle with its rider lightly waving in their direction, her red curls flowing out of the full helmet like lava. "I'd offer you a ride home but my girlfriend's vehicle is a bit impractical sometimes. Sorry."

"Oh it is no worry at all, I don't live far. It’s a walk I'm used to. Goodnight Pearl, hopefully next time we meet, well, let it be a happier occasion."

"Right back at ya mate." She waved and walked over to the bike and rider, embracing her briefly before moving to put her own helmet on. Scar turned and began his walk home, trying to ignore the feeling that someone, or maybe something , had their eye on him.

… . … . …

There was only the briefest warning of a knock before Grian's door was swinging open and his sister was marching in. He wasted no time in pulling the blankets of his bed up and over his head as she stopped, standing above him, with her arms crossed across her chest. "I'm putting an end to this now. You have been pouty and avoidant too long Griba. It's time to get up and get back to work."

"No." his response was mumbled and muffled by the pillow he'd buried his face into. He could feel Pearl's frustration even through the layers of cotton and wool.

"I'm serious Gri! You've been avoiding all your work for the last week just because you have an ill-advised crush on your boss."

"It's not that Pearl!" He flipped the blankets back down to glare at her. "And Mumbo is our boss's son. He's not our boss. Yet."

Pearl sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "And he will never be your boss if you get yourself fired ."

"I'm not going to be fired Pearl, we were practically raised in this house. We're family as much as we are employees. And Mumbo would never let that happen."

"Mumbo might not Gri, but what about his new husband if he finds out you're in love with Mumbo? He doesn't seem like the petty jealous type from the couple of interactions I've had with him but you never know. I'd follow you if it came to it, you know that but…"

"I'm not." Grian brought his knees up to his chest, his words coming out nearly as a whisper. "And Scar wouldn't do that."

"How would you know mate? You haven't gone anywhere near the man since Mumbo returned from his trip and introduced us to him. You haven't even seen Mumbo, your closest friend that you've had a massive crush since we were little, since he returned from his yearlong trip with his new husband in tow."

"I told you, I'm not in love with Mumbo! I got over that before he even left on that stupid trip."

"Then why have you been avoiding them? You can't keep claiming to be sick or making Jim do your work on top of his own."

"I- You wouldn't understand Pearl."

"Try me Griba, give me a chance to understand." She rested a hand on his shoulder and Grian felt his mind at war with itself.

He wanted to tell her, he really did. But of course there was always something holding him back. He wasn't sure if They would retaliate for him sharing, there had only been one other time he had but it's not like there had been long to punish him for it since he had already been dying. He knew he didn’t have long which was why he took the risk in the first place as he and Scar huddled together for any warmth they could spare. They had been caught in a cave in, falling down in a tumble of rocks and ice and were trapped in a small cavern slowly freezing. They were trying to keep talking, trying to stay awake and hope someone came for them. He had told Scar then, spilled everything he had kept so close to his chest for so many lives.

Well, not everything. He may have left out just how many lifetimes they had lived, and just how in love with Scar he had been through them all.

He wanted to tell Pearl though, even if she didn't remember the next time he got her in his life. Because Pearl was one of the people he found himself meeting time after time. She wasn't always his sister, sometimes she was just a friend or a passing face that showed him kindness.

So he told her. He told he about the Watchers and about meeting Scar. He told her of meeting him again in another life and remembering, and then again and again. He told her about losing him and loving him and seeing him again a week ago when he showed up with Mumbo wearing matching golden bands.

He was pretty sure she didn't believe him.

She pretended to though, and for that he at least was thankful. In the end he promised her he would get himself back to work and she promised him she would be there if he ever wanted someone to talk to. They hugged and he thanked her, even if he was certain he would never take her up on that offer.

…

Grian was folding laundry the following day when Scar found him. He was folding a shirt when he heard his voice in the doorway behind him. "Hey! It's Grian right? Glad to see you're feeling better!"

He froze for a second before taking a deep breath and turning to face the man. "Oh, thanks. Yeah, some soup and a few days rest and I'm back in tip top shape. Sorry we never got to really meet properly after you arrived."

Grian's heart stuttered at the oh so familiar smile. "Oh no worries, can't help it being sick."

"Right, can't help it." He looked away, resuming his folding and hoping Scar couldn't feel the guilt radiating off of him. "So, how are you settling in then? Getting on with everyone all right?"

"Oh Yeah! Everyone is so nice here like a big happy family. Though I have already managed to get myself banned from Mumby’s workshop. Apparently I am almost as bad for his projects as you.”

Grian’s chuckle at that was genuine at least. “Yeah, he swears that all it takes is me standing in there and something will go wrong. We pretty much are all family though. A lot of the staff at the manor have been here pretty long term. A couple of us were raised alongside Mumbo, my mum was his nurse so I've known him literally my entire life."

"Mumbo did tell me you were like the brother he never had. He talked about you so much it felt like I knew you before I ever even got here.” 

Grian's chest felt tight. "Yeah, funny how that is. Listen Scar, I should really focus on getting this laundry done. Lots of chores to catch up on and such…"

"Oh yes yes, I suppose I've got my own work that needs doing. Once you're all caught up on chores though maybe we could hang out sometime? Me you and Mumbo? You're really important to Mumbo and he's important to me so I want us to also be friends. Even if you do technically work for us."

Grian couldn't look at Scar, it was all too much. "Yeah, sounds good Scar. I'm sure we'll get on just fine."

He finally looked up again as he heard Scar's footsteps fade away and there he saw her. She was watching him, head lightly tilted as if she were regarding him, and he could feel the weight of her gaze, even with one of her eyes covered by her usual eyepatch. "What do you want Gem?"

"Oh nothing," She hummed. "But Pearl told me you an Scar apparently have some history. A long history from the sound of it."

"Oh come off it Gem. I don't need this from you."

"Don't need what from me Grian?"

"I don't need you to tell me I'm crazy, okay? I already feel it." He turned his back to her and resumed his folding, possibly a bit more aggressively than he had previously been.

"And what if I said I believed you? And more importantly, I think I can help you?"

That caused him to pause. "Help me? What do you mean?"

"Grian," Gem was closer now, moving to stand in front of him. "When was the last time you died a natural death?"

So many images and memories flashed through his mind all at once. He couldn't answer out loud, he just shook his head.

"This isn't a kindness from Them Grian, and I think you know that. And I really do think I can help you."

"Why do you even believe me Gem?"

"That’s, a bit of a long story." Grian watched as Gem's hand drifted up to the covering over her left eye and began fiddling with it a bit. "But I think we both have plenty of time."

Chapter Text

Grian wasn't sure why he let the merchant in.

He had shown up at the temple door just moments before, frantically knocking and Grian had seen the panic in the man's eyes briefly as he opened the door. It was quickly replaced with a showman's smile, fear slipping behind a mask of confidence. "Ah why hello there sir! My name is Scar Goodtimes and I would like to interest you in any of the fantastical things I have for sale in my mobile Swagon Shop! So if you could just invite me in I can go over all of my wares with you and get you exactly what you need!"

The spiel was a bit ridiculous and didn’t completely make sense but Grian noticed the shift of the man's eyes as he finished, checking his peripherals. He was fairly certain something was going on with him other than just trying to pedal what were probably shoddy items at steep prices. He was even more certain he had no desire to get involved and was about to say as much, getting ready to close the door when the fear returned to the man's face.

"Please?" desperation leaked into his voice, as if he knew he was seconds from being denied. "It will only be a moment of your time. Plus what kind of temple turns someone away?"

He should have said no, he was supposed to say no. Outsiders weren't typically welcomed into the temple, especially considering they did their best to not advertise which gods it was a temple to. The less people who knew the less danger the temple was in. "What are you running from?"

The salesman's smile grew wider and all the more strained. "Not running! Just maybe trying to avoid… an old friend. Not really feeling up to catch up small talk 'Oh how are you? How's the wife and kids?'. Plus I've got some things you really ought to see but they're a bit sun sensitive so we should go inside to see them, yes?"

It was a lie, not even a subtle one at this point. The man was trying to get away from something, and Grian was just curious enough to want to know what it was.

His curiosity had always been his downfall.

He stepped to the side, allowing space for the man, Scar he had called himself, to enter. The decision seemed to take him by surprise as his eyes widened before relief washed over his face and softened his smile. He wasted no time in gathering his items and bushing past Grian to step inside. Grian shut the door behind him and turned to see Scar paused and staring at the grand entrance room around them. "Sure is a fancy place, do all temples look like this?"

"Wouldn't know, I've only ever been to this one." Grian admitted. "I suppose it would change based on which god the temple is for."

Scar just nodded. "Well, we have that in common I guess. Never had much need for a temple before, psy- pie- po- pious? You know, worship-y. Those people don't usually care much for buying things from little ol' me." Grian tried not to laugh at the man stumbling over his words, especially when he turned back to face Grian. "Not you though! I'm sure I've got something you want or need and at a bargain price too I assure you!"

He didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Are we still sticking with that? I'd have thought for sure you'd give it up once you were in here and hiding from whatever you were hiding from." Grian was not about to play into the merchant's games. There was nothing he could offer that Grian really needed, nothing worth spending his or the temple's money on. Granted they were one and the same seeing as Grian never left the temple and didn't really have his own funds. The temple was stocked with whatever he needed by the acolytes that traveled around the lands. Each time one stopped by to drop off a completed record and add it to the growing shelves of the temple, they would bring food and other necessities. Grian never wanted, he wasn't supposed to. The Watchers saw what he needed and They provided.

Scar narrowed his eyes at Grian before sighing with a heavy slump of his shoulders. "Anyone ever told you you're too perspective for your own good? What I may or may not be avoiding is none of your business mister."

"It is if it happens in my temple. And perceptiveness is part of the job I fear."

"And what job is that?" Scar asked, turning back to look around the entrance hall again. "You some kind of priest, ready to tell me that I should follow your god and be absolved of my sins? What is your god anyways? This place looks more like a library than a temple with all the books around. Do you follow some kind of god of reading? If so I gotta tell you I don't know if I can get behind that, me and the written word have never quite gotten along."

Grian crossed to where Scar was at one of the shelves and snatched the journal from his hand to place back on the shelf. "We're actually not one for absolving sins, or converts for that matter. I'm, well you can call me a priest. I take care of the temple, keep it clean and protect the collection."

"Protect it from who?" Scar reached for another journal and Grian swatted his hand away.

"From shady salesmen who can't keep their hands to themselves."

A dramatic gasp from Scar paired with a hand brought up to his chest had Grian rolling his eyes before the merchant even spoke. "Who are you calling shady? I am an honest, fair, and humble traveling businessman!"

"Then why won't you tell me who you're hiding from?"

Scar's mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he tried to find the words to defend himself, and Grian found himself laughing.

He wasn't sure when the last time he’d done that was.

…

It was a couple months later when Grian opened the temple doors to see Scar there again. The merchant looked much the same as he had before, maybe an extra scar or two across his sun-tanned arms. This time his smile was a lot less stressed. "Ah ha! If it isn't my favorite customer! Just the priest I was hoping to see!"

If Grian wasn't supposed to let him in the first time, he really wasn't supposed to let him in a second time. "Do I count as a customer if I didn't buy anything?" he stepped to the side and Scar happily slipped past him and into the temple again.

He waved his hand dismissively as Grian closed the door and followed him through the entry chamber. "Oh who cares for the details, that’s where they keep the devil I hear and I'm no expert but I do believe most temples try to keep him out. Yes?" Grian snorted. This isn't your typical temple. Oblivious as last time though, Scar continued on. "Plus, I have a whole new selection of wares and I'm sure we can find something you need among them."

"Didn't I tell you last time I had no money? I'm provided what I need by the temple so I've no use for it." Grian watched Scar run his hands along the spines of the journals lining the walls, making no attempt to remove any.

"Oh I'm sure there are other things besides money you could compensate me with. For instance, maybe a nice hot meal for a weary traveler? It is lunchtime after all." Scar flashed his sun-bright grin and Grian found it hard to say no to the odd man. Sighing he moved past him, deeper into the temple towards the kitchens.

"You're lucky I just got a restock a few days ago so I've enough to share." He ignored the victorious fist pump from the merchant as they reached their destination and began to pull things from the cabinets to get working on their meal. As he chopped the vegetables, he could feel Scar growing closer and closer, watching him work. Eventually the man was right beside him, nearly touching and Grian watched out of the corner of his eye as he reached for one of the carrots he had pulled out for the meal. "What are you doing?"

Scar paused his hand, "Helping?"

"I don't need help, I'm perfectly capable of cooking a meal. You're just going to be in my way, so shoo." Grian waved him away with the hand not holding the knife and Scar pouted at him.

"Oh come on, cooking together is fun. Don't you ever help the other people of the temple cook?" He moved away though, just a couple steps as Grian grabbed the carrot he had been reaching for and brought the knife down and chopped off the end with a satisfying slice.

"There's no one else to help cook, have you not noticed it's just me here?" He tried to focus on the knife and not chopping off his fingers but glanced out of the corner of his eye to watch Scar shrug.

"Never really thought about it. I just assumed they were elsewhere and welcoming handsome strangers was your job." He could hear the smile in his voice, laced with a salesman's charm. Thankfully, it didn't work on Grian. Definitely not.

"Well, it's no one's job to welcome people to the temple because we're not supposed to let strangers in."

"Well it's a good thing we're friends and not strangers, yes?"

Grian moved on, choosing to ignore the interjection. "I am the caretaker of this temple. There are other acolytes that will drop by, bring me food and... other things. But I'm here by myself. Most of the time."

Grian was not expecting the sincerity in the man's voice when he responded after a few seconds of silence. "That sounds lonely." Grian just shrugged and continued his chopping. It was a bit lonely, but it was also everything he had known for twenty-odd years now.

"You get used to it. 's not so bad. Other people would just distract me from the work I do." The work he should be doing right now.

"Oh yeah, because it's such intense work to clean a temple only one person lives in. The place is a real mess," Scar glanced around at the pristine kitchen. "I can see why you need to focus so hard on it."

"That's not all I do." It was indignant, a childish offence to Scar's words. "I'm this temple's scribe. Every Watcher temple has one."

Scar noticed Grian's mistake before he did. "So Watcher's huh? That's who this temple is for?" Grian tensed, ready for the judgement. The retribution. "They sound kinda familiar I think." Grian waited for more. For disgust or any real reaction. Scar just shrugged. "So if you're a scribe does that mean all those diaries lining the walls are yours? Is that why you don't want me reading them?"

Grian slowly let himself relax, but he never quite stopped holding his breath.

...

It was nearly another three months before Grian saw Scar again. When he opened the door this time, the merchant seemed anxious, bouncing on his feet as he waited to be invited in. it was a different kind of nervous than the first time though and Grian didn't question it as he moved to let the man in.

"Um, actually..." he fidgeted for his words. "I wanted to show you something this time. In my cart."

Grian was immediately on edge. He remembered the information he let slip last time Scar visited, about whom the temple was dedicated to, whom his patrons were. "If this is another thing you're trying to sell me, I'll remind you once more I have no money Scar. Maybe you should just be on your merry way and leave me to my work." Part of him didn't want Scar to leave, longed for the short visits from the travelling merchant. They were not an unwelcome change to the routine he had cultivated over the last few decades. But the safety of the temple had to come first, and the safety of the temple meant no outsiders and discretion. Both things Grian had ignored each time he let the man into the temple.

Scar however just looked at him, green eyes round and pleading. "Aww, come on G. Please I promise it will be so so quick. My cart is just down the road. We'll get there and I'll show you the thing and you can go right back to being a lonely old hermit."

Grian tried to be strong, he was no match for the openness and sincerity in Scar's face though. "Fineee." He dragged out the word, stepping forward out of the temple. He could trust Scar, the man didn't seem like the type to betray him and his plea rang with honesty. Grian had come to know many of Scar's mannerisms in their short time together. He had seen how Scar acted when he tried to spin a lie about the origin or properties of the simple knickknacks he tried to sell him, and when he was trying to hide something or avoid a subject. He was seeing none of those things now.

Scar bounced along the walk as he led Grian to where his cart was parked. It wasn't far and Grian was still able to see the door of the temple from where it sat, which was at least a little bit calming. The cart was not at all what he suspected from the merchant. In the covered rear portion, he saw a small sleeping mat with a single pillow spread out next to boxes of things, Grian could only guess what. There were also pieces of clothing scattered around, laying across crates and balled up in every nook and cranny. "When was the last time you tidied this thing up? I sure hope your actual house is cleaner than this."

"Actual? No, this is where we live."

"Wait, we?" As if on cute, a small grey face lifts up from behind the pillow and lets out an indignant meow.

Scar coos and reaches toward the cat who stretches and walks over to him. "This is Jellie, the best companion one could ever want on the open roads." He scratched behind her ears and that cat started purring loudly.

"She's a very pretty lady," Grian cooed, reaching out his own hand which was promptly sniffed and headbutted by the cat. "This is what you wanted to show me? Introduce me to your cat?" It was endearing but confusing if Grian was being honest.

"Oh no no no. Hold on." Scar hauled himself into the cart and made his way carefully towards the back of the stacks. It only took a moment before he was shuffling back towards Grian with something dome shaped and covered with a cloth. "Jellie was the inspiration behind this so really you can thank her but I couldn't stop thinking about what you said at my last visit." Grian tensed but Scar didn't seem to notice. "That temple, it must be awful. Being there so long and all on your own. I know I'd go crazy in the long stretches between customers if it weren't for Jellie. So I thought," Scar pulled the cloth off what he was holding.

In his hands was a bronze birdcage with a brilliant blue bird sitting on a perch in its center. Grian gasped in surprise and leaned in to get a closer look. "Oh Scar, that's a beautiful bird. I'm sure you can swindle someone out of a pretty penny for it."

Scar looked nervous. "No, that's not- The bird is for you G."

Grian sighed, looking away from the bird and towards the merchant still holding it. "Scar, we've been over this. I don't have any money to buy things from you."

"It's not a sale Grian. It's a gift! My way of paying you back for lunch on my last visit." Scar's face split with a soft smile and Grian tried to ignore the small stutter in his heart at the fond expression. "I thought you could use a friend since you're here all on your lonesome and then I came across this little guy when I was out travelling last and thought he'd be perfect. I've even heard parrots can learn to talk so you'll have somebody to convert- no, conserv- you know, chat with."

Grian didn't know what to say, so he didn't. Instead he turned back to the bird and reached a finger through the bars of the cage. The bird swiftly shifted over to reach him and started rubbing against the offered finger and Grian felt his heart melt. "Aww, see he likes you already." Scar reached a finger of his own into the cage only to pull it back moments later with a yelp. "He bit me!"

Grian couldn't help the laugh that overtook him, doubled over and clutching his stomach. Once he recovered he saw Scar's pout and smiled before reaching out to pet the bird a bit more. "Good boy Professor Beak."

Scar, it seemed, tried to stay pouting but lost to the smile that returned the small stutter in Grian's chest. "So you like him too then? Going to let Professor Beak stay and keep you company when I can't?"

"Well obviously he has to stay with me, he clearly doesn't like being here with you." Scar made an affronted noise and Grian just grinned as he continued to stare at the bird, excited at the prospect of having a companion at the temple. He had, after all, recently learned that company could be quite nice. "Hello there little guy." He would have been embarrassed about the noise he made when the parrot squawked back its own garbled " hELL-ow" but he was too overjoyed to care. "Oh look at how smart you are. Next we can teach you to tell Scar that I don't have money for the silly junk he tries to sell me each time he visits. Maybe he'll listen to you since he never listens to me."

"Hey! I'm right here mister so you can stop being so rude. Besides I know you don't have your own money, its why along with the bird, Professor Beak as you've so wonderfully named him, I shall personally deliver to you any food or other materials you may need to take care of him. Unless you'd rather the 'temple provide' what you need instead since they obviously care for your every need."

"No. no. It seems only right that you help considering you're the one who brought him to me." Grian looked away from the bird and back to Scar and tried not to read too much into the shine in the man's eyes. He dropped his gaze back to the bird, and fiddled with the cage door. "Might mean you need to stop by more often though, I'm sure you don't want to have to carry huge bags of birdfeed around right?"

It was an invitation in the best way he could give one. The only way he could tell Scar he wouldn't mind more visits, more time with the merchant. It wasn't supposed to be something he wanted, not as a Watcher Scribe. He had responsibilities, duties. He couldn't, wouldn't , abandon them.

But surely it wouldn't hurt to spend a day or two of each month talking with Scar.

Scar must have felt the same, there was warmth in his voice that wrapped around Grian as he responded. "Oh absolutely, I'm sure you'll see much more of me. Don't want to get hurt carrying too many heavy bags after all."

Grian let himself look at the man again and matched the smile on his face with one of his own. "It’s a deal then."

…

It was too easy to get used to the new routine. Scar was stopping by every few weeks now, showing up early in the mornings and staying until the sun was ready to set. Grian would make them food while Scar sat back and tried to teach professor beak new words. It would often end in a feedback loop of Scar and the bird repeating a word back and forth until it no longer sounded like whatever Scar had been going for originally. It was fun and noisy and everything Grian never realized he was missing before he had it.

Grian was surprised to find he didn't really need to shift anything to make room in his life for the man, he just fit in as easily as anything else. He never knew exactly when Scar would be dropping by, but the merchant never went more than a month without visiting. At least until he did. Until after several months of almost regular visits from Scar, he vanished from Grian's life just as suddenly as he had shown up.

Grian tried not to worry. He told himself Scar must have just travelled further for a client and it was taking him longer to get back. Grian would just have to wait a bit longer, which wouldn't really be a problem since he did have extra food for Professor Beak. But the quiet of the temple grew more and more pressing with each day that passed, even with the simple conversations he could have with the bird.

He found himself spending more time in the inner rooms, furiously transcribing the acolytes journals into the Tome, easily working through the small backlog that had built up along with the increase in Scar's visits. It kept his hands busy and kept his thoughts from drifting towards the other potential things that could be keeping Scar away.

He was in the inner rooms when the knock came on the temple door. He had been in there since waking up early, unable to sleep, and was surprised to see the late afternoon sun out of the window as he emerged into the main temple. It was only then he became aware of the empty ache in his stomach. The knock echoed through the temple again and he sighed and moved to open the door. Somehow he wasn't expecting to see Scar there when he opened it. Grian froze as he took in the man, stranding on the front steps of the temple for the first time in nearly three months. His hair was a bit longer and there was a touch of scruff on his face and deep circles under his eyes. In his arms was Jellie, her grey fur peeking out from the blanket Scar had her wrapped in. Next to him was the usual box of supplies for Professor Beak.

When Scar spoke, Grian could hear the tension laced through his usual jovial tone. "Delivery for a mister Grian Xelqua? Swagon Enterprises apologizes for the delay and offers a discount on all goods as will be reflected in your bill. Now if you'll excuse me, the hour is late so I'll be on my way and leave you to it."

Scar barely had time to turn before Grian was reaching out to stop him. "You just got here. Come inside and rest? I can make us dinner?" Scar glanced down at the cat still tucked in his arms and opened his mouth but Grian cut him off. "Jellie too, nights get cold around here. It's warmer inside." The protest seemed to leave Scar's body as he sighed and Grian watched his smile become just a touch more sincere. Scar stepped past him and made his way slowly inside as Grian picked up the box of supplies and deposited it right inside the door to be dealt with later.

They both made their way to the kitchen and took their familiar spots, Scar sitting on a barstool pulled up to the counter as Grian stepped up to the counter and began pulling out supplies for a quick meal. Scar didn’t speak as Grian threw together a few sandwiches, all the while watching the other man in his peripherals. Scar didn’t take his eyes off Jellie once as Grian worked. The merchant was uncharacteristically silent scratching the cat’s head where it poked up out of the cocoon she was swaddled in. Grian left him to it until the sandwiches were ready and he set the plate down in front of Scar and settled into his own chair next to him.

"Is she okay?"

Scar startled a bit as Grian spoke but settled himself just the same. "She… She will be." Grian just nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich and nudging the plate closer to Scar who finally picked one up. He didn't ask more questions about it, even though something within him urged him to press for more details. "Sorry I've been gone so long. But, she-" His voice choked off and without thought Grian moved to stand beside his friend.

"Hey, none of that now okay? Don't worry a thing about it. You're here now and you and Jellie can get some proper rest yeah?" Grian wrapped his arms around the merchant as he slumped forward into Grian's shoulder. He decided not to mention the patch of his shirt that was damp with salt tears once Scar pulled away.

Once they ate, Grian led them to his room. It was plain and mostly empty, save for the bed in the center and writing desk tucked into the corner, journal and pen sitting atop its wooden surface. He allowed Scar to situate himself and the cat before moving to make his way to find his own place to rest for the night. He had only taken a step though before he felt the hand on his wrist. He turned back to see emerald eyes, wide and pleading, and wordlessly let himself be pulled down into the bed.

After that night, Scar began to stay longer. Never more than a day or two, but he and Jellie both began to feel more at home in the temple and Grian felt at home with them.

…

The night Grian died, Scar was never supposed to be there.

He felt something was off immediately as he woke up. It was late, only a few hours since they had gone to bed. Scar had told him earlier that morning that he needed to get on the road, he had a delivery to make. He’d assured him it wasn't far and he'd only be gone a few days before he'd be back again but Grian had of course pouted and begged Scar to stay a bit longer. "They can wait just one more day." It was selfish but Grian had recently come to terms with the fact that he hated being alone. Or really, he hated being without Scar.

The days and weeks he was gone left Grian empty. He sat around, trying to fulfill his duties, but as he made his way around the temple he found himself no longer caring. He found himself wondering, dreaming, what it would be like to leave with Scar. What it could be like if the next time he went on a delivery, Grian just went with him. There wasn't anyone else there to stop him, not really. The other acolytes could go months at a time between visits, thankfully they had never shown up while Scar was there. He wasn't sure what would happen if they did but he knew Scar’s presence in the temple wasn't something that was allowed

Still, Grian  let himself imagine it, riding along in Scar's wagon, meeting new people and seeing places other than the Watcher's Temple. Never having to leave Scar.

Occasionally it would cross his mind that Scar might not want Grian to travel with him. He had never asked Grian if he wanted to leave, to join him on the road. There was always a chance Scar could just like having a meal and a roof to sleep under and Grian just happened to also be there.

That was, of course, much easier to think when Scar wasn't curled around him in his bed, snoring soundly as Grian grappled with how much he found himself caring about the merchant. He found that he cared deeply for Scar, too deeply. Surely more than Scar cared for him.

Grian wondered if this is what falling in love felt like. He didn't have much experience with the feeling himself to compare it to. The acolytes that had raised him did so coldly and distanced. It was obligation, not love that they took care of him for. He's pretty sure his best example is the moments he'd caught Scar with Jellie, looking at her with so much emotion shining in his eyes and a soft smile as he pet and cooed over her. In his weaker moments Grian wished Scar would look at him with half as much care.

He looked around in the dim haze of the room for what might have caused him to wake up. He was about to shrug it off and fall back asleep when he took in a deep breath and smelled it. Smoke. He sat up quickly, turning towards the door and felt his eyes widen as he saw the flickering orange light bleeding through the cracks between it and the frame. There was only a second of hesitation, of panic, before he was throwing the blankets off and shouting "Scar!" The larger man groggily lifted his head, eyes barely open as he was roused from his sleep. "Fire." The word came out in a breath and he watched it shake the lingering sleep from the merchant.

Scar was moving immediately, swinging his legs off the bed and moving to stand. Only to be caught by a blanket, sending him crashing forward. Grian threw himself out of the bed and rushed to his side as Scar was already rising back to his feet. "I'm okay, I'm okay."

Grian watched the slight limp to his gate though as he moved to the door and threw it open. The light seemed to be coming from down the hall, in the direction of the main living areas. It was around a corner and out of sight but he could see all the books on the shelves catching like tinder. Countless years of records gone. 

Instinct took over.

"Scar, you get Jellie and Professor Beak and get them out of here. I'll be right behind you I promise. I just have to grab something first."

He saw the concern in the man's eyes and gave his best reassuring smile. "Be quick. Right behind me, like you said." He saw Scar hesitate another moment before turning to the room they had set up as a habitat for the bird, and Grian watched him disappear down the hall before rushing in the opposite direction.

Getting to the inner rooms was easy enough. Grian could have navigated the temple in complete darkness with perfect accuracy. The flickering glow was only helpful in moving through the halls, until he realized it was getting brighter and warmer. He turned the corner to the entrance to where the Tome was kept and froze. There was a line of flames cutting off his path. He couldn't afford to pause though so he forced his feet to keep moving, gaining speed as he rushed headlong towards the fire and the room behind it and leapt.

When his feet hit the ground he let the momentum carry him lower and dropped to smother the flames beginning to lick up the sides of his sleep pants. Then he was up and moving again, throwing open the door and breathing a sigh of relief as his eyes landed on the Tome, yet unharmed in the blaze overtaking the temple. He snatched it from the pedestal and cradled it to his chest as he turned around and assessed his options. The way he came in was a no go, the fire spreading at an alarming rate and the old dry pages of the Tome likely to catch too quick. That left the long way around, which was not ideal but was hopefully a lot less on fire.

He hoped Scar had made it out safe with the animals.

His feet carried him around corners and through open doorways until he knew he had only one more turn and he would reach the front room and the main door. Then it would all be fine and he could deal with whatever came after. He could feel his lungs ache, laid heavy with the effort of running and the abundance of smoke he had already inhaled, but he pushed on. Until for a second time he turned the corner and was stopped dead in his tracks. Just as he had imagined, the front room was an inferno, shelves black and crumbling as they crashed over and blocked off the exit.

Grian was trapped.

The smoke was growing thicker in the air and it was becoming harder to see as he tried to find some way out. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his shoulder. Whipping his head around his eyes met Scar's, the emerald shining like a beacon against the oranges of the room, and was overcome with a flood of emotions. Joy, fear, hope, panic, all at once like his mind couldn't decide how to react. He opened his mouth to ask why Scar was here and not outside but was cut off by Scar pressing a damp cloth over his mouth. The confusion lasted a second before he realized Scar also had a cloth held over his own mouth and moved his hand to take hold of the one against his own face. Hand freed, Scar grabbed his wrist and began leading him away from the front door and around through to the kitchen where Grian noticed one of the windows smashed open.  He nodded and Scar dropped his wrist, continuing to move across the burning room towards their exit. He had been right on Scar's heels until his lungs seized up and he doubled over coughing, dropping his rag in the process.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Grian looked back up.

Scar had stopped halfway between him and the window and turned back, not watching the window as a bottle with a lit cloth stuffed into the neck sailed through the opening. He never saw it as it crashed right behind him, but Grian did. Grian watched with horror as  the explosion of the bottle knocked Scar forward and coated him in a splash of fire. He tried to scream, to call out but all that escaped him was a wheeze of the man's name followed by a cough that threw him down to the ground, lungs crying out for fresh air. He tried to crawl over to the merchant, who hadn't moved since he hit the ground, but he was too weak. The fire continued to spread, faster now with whatever accelerant had been used, and Grian watched it climb over Scar's still unmoving form.

Something in Grian broke as he tried again, in vain, to gather the strength to move or even call out to the man. He couldn't bear to look at the sight before him but couldn't look away. Stuck in the purgatory of watching and knowing it was his fault, that Scar was never supposed to be here and wouldn't be if it weren't for him. It was all hopeless, and for the first time in months Grian found a prayer on his lips.

He mouthed the plea, unable to speak the words but knowing it would be received, knowing They would be Watching. Please, don't let this be. Save him, please. I am your servant but he is my light. I can’t lose him.

The growing heat of the room was drying the tears that spilled down his face and still he felt a chill run through his body as he heard a response. He is gone already little one. We do not possess the power to bring him back, that is beyond us I'm afraid. You will soon join us though, we would welcome you for your dedication, even if it did… falter. The voice rang through his head, soft and melodic with a cold edge that cut through him like a knife.

Please, there must be some way. Something you can do. I have served you faithfully with no want nor need of anything, this is all I ask.

Hmm, The voice hummed as if pondering, teasing. As we said, he is gone from this world and you are not long to follow. This we can not change. But you have been loyal and perhaps you do deserve a boon.  For your loyalty you will be together for eternity and you shall never lose him again.

Despite the heat and the pain of his lungs and the flames he could now feel creeping over him, Grian felt a sense of relief. He would see Scar again, he would hold him close and tell him everything he'd left unsaid. With the last of his strength he reached towards Scar and a whispered thank you crossed his lips. He spared a brief thought of Jellie and Professor Beak, hoping someone would come to the burning temple and find them wherever Scar left them, waiting for their owners who would never show. Wondered if they would one day join Grian in Scar in whatever afterlife the Watchers had waiting for them.

Grian felt no fear as his consciousness began to fade and he felt at peace as he slipped into the dark void that awaited him. 

. … . … .

The sky was a wash of oranges and pinks as the Sun slowly rose above the horizon and the stones across the ground began to glow with warm light. It was probably one of the most beautiful things Scar had ever seen and he cursed whatever cosmic forces controlled it. Maybe it was the Watchers mocking him, he wasn't sure. A graveyard wasn't supposed to be a place of beauty.

Scar closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool granite headstone. On the other side of it lay a patch of freshly laid dirt and words he couldn't erase from his vision etched into the stone. He'd been here for hours now, unable to sleep and anxious to read the journal he had taken from Grian's apartment. He'd felt odd as he sat in the empty cemetery and spoke to a grave, but he felt like he should ask permission before reading something so private. Not that he could get a response or affirmation that it was okay, but no specters or spooks rose from the ground to scare him off so he figured it was fine.

The journal had started at the beginning of the year, much like the other he had peeked at, so he flipped through, skimming the pages until reaching just over a month ago and began reading from there. It hadn't answered many questions.

Of all the people in the city, of course I find him. I know it's not a coincidence, it's never been, but it's always a surprise how easy it is with him. Even before today when it was just texting and I didn’t know. At least I can skip past the 'getting to know you' stage.  

It didn't make sense to Scar.

He'd turned the words over again and again and nothing came of it. Most of the journal seemed to just be accounts of people watching and observations. He recognized some of the places in the passages from dates he and Grian had been on and the days had lined up, but there was no mention of Scar himself. There was also no mention of Watchers and Scar was no closer to finding the truth. Part of him wanted to give up, accept that he had failed and that no one would ever know what really happened to Grian.

He felt empty and he felt alone.

He also thought he was alone until he heard the voice from behind him. "You know, sitting at your dead boyfriend's grave at the crack of dawn is just sad behavior."

He couldn't help the yelp he let out as he jumped and turned as best he could from his sitting position, brandishing the journal at the person. She stood over him, one hand on her hip and eyebrow raised. He hadn't seen her face the previous night but her hair looked familiar at least. "He wasn't my boyfriend. Even more pathetic, right?"

She sighed, as if exasperated with him already. "I'm not sure I would be any better honestly. I can't bring myself to stick around long enough for this part."

"Stick around? What are you talking about?"

She huffed out a breath. "I almost forgot you don't remember, I'm so used to talking to Grian about things."

"Wait," Scar's mind was reeling. "You knew Grian? I thought Pearl hadn't talked to Grian in years. You knew him?"

She leaned against the headstone, looking down at it. "Me and Grian have known each other for a very long time. Not as long as you two though."

Scar felt like he was missing something, or she was deliberately trying to confuse him. "But I only knew Grian for a month."

She just shook her head, "No you two have been trapped like this for so long. It wasn't easy figuring out how to break the cycle, it took so much longer than either of us thought honestly."

"Quit speaking in riddles! What are you even saying? Trapped? Breaking cycles? What are you talking about?"

Scar felt like his head might explode but she just let out another deep sigh. "I think it's time we have a talk Scar."

"We are talking and you're not making sense."

"You just need to listen to me and keep an open mind. I think it's time you learned what happened to Grian and decide what you want to do next."

Scar was pretty sure his brain was completely fried. "You know what happened to Grian? Like, what really happened?

"Of course I do," She looked directly at him for the first time in a while and Scar felt a chill down his spine as he met her intense gaze. "I was the one who killed him Scar."

Chapter Text

Scar no longer knew what to do with himself. Grian was dead  and he had been killed and Scar had followed the person who had just admitted to being the one that killed him back to his apartment.

This may finally take the cake for the stupidest thing he's done but he was pretty sure he had lost his ability to care..

He watched her wander around his apartment, snacking on one of the extra cookies he hadn't been able to pawn off over the last few days. She hadn't said anything yet, taking her time in taking in the details of his life that she could instead. She glanced over the photos he had lined up along his mantle of his favorite memories over the years. The one of him Bdubs and Cleo after the play they were all in, Cleo still in their terrible old age makeup from getting cast as their mother. The one of him officiating Lizzie and Joel's wedding, crying almost as much as the bride and groom. Various trips with both friends and family to theme parks and zoos. So many other moments. He wondered if they would flash before his eyes if, or likely when, she decided to kill him. Like they always said happened in movies and TV shows.

He wondered if that happened for Grian. What he saw and if Scar had been any part of it.

He wasn't expecting it when she finally spoke and broke the silence. "Do you think it was all centered around him, or if they're all trapped somehow?"

Scar hummed and thought for a moment considering her question before answering. "I have no idea what you're even talking about." She sighed that same drawn out exasperated sigh. "Hey! Don't give me that you're the one talking in riddles! The only straightforward thing you've told me so far is that you are the murderer that killed my-" Scar lost all the frustration that had built throughout his mini rant in a single second. "Grian. That killed Grian."

He wasn't sure which was worse, how small he felt as he softly spoke the words or the look of pity she turned on him. "I did promise you answers didn't I? Well where do you want to start then?"

Scar had about a million questions but he felt like none of them were the right one to ask. So he started with the easiest. "Who are you?"

She just laughed, a short sharp bark, and somehow it felt friendly and dangerous all in one. A lot of her seemed to feel like that. "Well, my name is Gemini. Though no one has called me that in a very long time, usually I just prefer Gem."

"Okay. Gem." He let the name pass over his tongue as he decided what he needed to know next. "You said you've known Grian for a long time."

"I have," she affirmed. "But that isn't a question."

"When did you meet Grian? You said you met him after me but that makes no sense."

Her smile sent a shiver down his spine. "I suppose it doesn't when you look at it from your perspective." She continued on without him having to ask another question thankfully. "From my view of it, I met Grian a year or so before you and I met for the first time. I think you two already were going on several hundred years by then. Maybe over a thousand? Grian never gave me an exact count."

Either Gem was lying or she was crazy, maybe both, but it was starting to make Scar crazy too. "And how long ago did we meet? Because as far as I'm aware it was like thirty minutes ago unless you count when you picked Pearl up last night."

"You see, that's where I'm a bit fuzzy on the numbers. Math has never really been my strength and I don't know if you'd count the time in-between and I wasn't even here for some of it. Plus, time doesn't always work the same everywhere I’ve been. But if I had to say, I'd guess maybe four hundred years?"

"Okay and once again practically none of that made any sense."

She sighed again and Scar wanted to throw one of the couch pillows at her but refrained. For now. "I'm just answering your questions Scar. Its not my fault you are not asking the correct ones."

"Well then what are the correct questions? If you know what I should ask why can't you just tell me what I should apparently know?"

"Because I'm not your babysitter and shouldn't have to. I told Grian he should tell you things, it would be so much easier right now if he did. I think he was afraid you’d think him mad and It would drive you away. He didn’t understand that you’re always too in love with him for that to be the case.”

Scar clutched the pillow in his hands tighter. "Maybe he would have told me if you hadn't killed him! Ever think of that?"

"Ugh, this is going nowhere and we don't have the time to talk in circles for hours! Well, probably. It doesn't feel like They are paying attention right now but They could be at any time and I can't hide us from them forever. Remember how I told you to keep an open mind earlier? Start doing that and maybe you'll stop asking stupid questions." Scar threw the pillow and she easily knocked it out of the air and glared at him. "I could just leave you with no answers."

"Fine, fine." He conceded. "Go on and tell me then if we have limited time. Who would be paying attention that you don't want? Did someone bug my apartment or something?"

"The Watchers Scar, who else? And no your apartment isn't bugged. They don't need that to See you. They're gods Scar, or close enough anyways."

"Wait, I thought the Watcher's were a cult. They're really gods?"

"They're both, in a way." Gem fidgeted as she talked, still pacing the room. "The years have changed the way They're viewed. They once had temples but even then they weren't the most favored back when they were just one set of the many gods people dedicated themselves to. But, while many of those gods have faded to time, They're just as, if not more powerful than they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago."

Scar considered her words. They were at least finally verging on the answers he had been looking for. "You say that as if you were there."

"No, I've only been visiting this world for a half millennium or so. I think. Like I said, not so great with math and time so maybe more maybe less." Gem got a brief faraway look in her eye before seemingly snapping back to the conversation. "You were there though. Not that you remember."

"Stop doing that! You were making sense then you go and say something crazy. I know I'm not that old and if you're 500? Well, you look great for your age I guess. And what do you mean 'visiting this world'. What, are you telling me you're from a different dimension, like a multiverse situation?"

Gem smiled for the first time, almost as if she were proud of him. "Exactly now you're getting it." He had meant it as a joke but she seemed to be serious in her response. Scar wondered if her being crazy raised or lowered his chances of survival.

He was also pretty sure this passed 'keep an open mind' territory but decided to humor her anyways. "So you are a dimension hopping murderer. Great, good for you."

"Stop using that word. I'm not a murderer." The steely look she gave him almost convinced him to apologize. Almost.

"You told me you killed Grian! How are you not a murderer? You killed him and now you're probably going to kill me and for some reason I don't even care anymore!"

He was no longer looking at Gem, he didn't want to see whatever look of pity she might be giving him. He could still hear it in her voice though. "Oh Scar, I am really sorry. I didn't know you two had met yet when I did it. Not that I think it would have changed my plan much in the end. I need you to understand though, I didn't murder Grian, I just did what he asked."

"You expect me to believe Grian wanted you to kill him?" Scar was bordering on angry now, his words sharp and he glared down at his hands in his lap. "I thought you were going to tell me the truth, not make up lies."

"I'm not lying Scar, just, ugh dang it. You want me to prove what I'm saying fine, but you owe me money for a new contact. These things are not cheap."

Scar didn't look. "I'll be sure to write it into my will."

"Scar Goodtimes, if you don't quit your moping and look at me right now I swear I'll actually murder you." The threat didn't bother him but he did look up at her finally. She was closer to him now, no longer looking around the room but directly at him instead. "Everything I have told you has been the truth Scar. I wasn't born on this world, I'm from a different one. Magic is more common there and I learned I could use that magic to travel between worlds. It has left its mark on me though."

Scar could only watch as a haze surrounded Gem, and slowly she changed. Her hair seemed to grow more vibrant for a moment and he could smell the scent of fresh growth of spring, underlined with hints of decay, nearly overwhelming as the subtle breeze blew through the room. The biggest change though was Gem's left eye as all the color seemed to burn away until a dark void overtook it and a small pupil glowed cyan at its center. From her eye black and cyan vein like fissures spread and Scar felt his unease grow even before noticing the sword now held in her hand. The sword itself was unlike any he'd seen before, a shiny blue that seemed almost translucent, glowing faintly with a pulsing purple shine.

The room was silent for a moment, before Scar's mouth ran away with his thoughts. "So if you really are hundreds of years old, why do you look like you're in your thirties?"

Gem let out yet another loud sigh but he saw her lip quirk up slightly. "Aging happens differently on this world than others. I also might have made some deals, but that’s a long story we don't have time for now. It's only a matter of time before we have Eyes on us."

"Okay but, if we met four hundred years ago, why don't I look that old? I am from this world, yes?"

"As far as I know you are. That’s why we're here though. Remember how I said the Watcher's had temples? Grian used to, I don’t know what's the right word here. Live at one? Work at one? I don't know it's been a while but he was super into the Watchers. Then he met you and somehow got you both killed? At least he insisted he was responsible and- It feels wrong to be the one to tell you all this. It's his story, and yours too I suppose either way it's not mine to tell. But you need to know, Grian made his own deal while trying to save you but the Watchers are a bunch of bastards, you two have been stuck, coming back and repeating some kind of sick cycle over and over again."

Scar wasn't sure why he believed her, but it didn't feel like she was lying. "So me and Grian, we're like in a time loop?"

"It's not a time loop. It's different every time as far as I'm aware but the essence of who you are is born again and again and each one ends in tragedy for you. For both of you." She hefted the blade, casually dropping it back to rest on her shoulders. "It's probably a lot easier for you, never knowing but… Grian was tired."

"So you found a way to kill him, end the cycle. Or at least take him out of it."

He hadn't realized she was looking away until her gaze fell back to him and he could feel its weight as he met it. "Yes, I killed him. But he isn't gone Scar. At least, he's not out of reach." The confused look on his face must have been enough because after a moment she kept going. "I told you, I'm a world hopper. It took some research and a friend willing to risk it in a test run but…"

For the first time in over a week Scar thought he felt something akin to hope spark in his chest. "Are you saying you world hopped Grian? That he's out there somewhere?"

"Not just somewhere Scar. I sent him someplace safe, one of the most secure worlds I know of."

He took a moment then and let himself picture it. Grian in some strange other world, finally free of the Watchers, able to exist and be happy. If Gem had been telling the truth, if he and Grian had been living like this for over a thousand years, well he could understand. The last few weeks of his life had been exhausting, had worn him down so far he felt he was just an empty husk some days. Grian apparently remembered it all though. Hundreds of lifetimes Gem told him all ended in tragedy and pain, maybe it was for the best, maybe he had to let Grian go so he had a chance to be happy wherever Gem brought him. "It would have been nice to have that chance to say goodbye.”

His head snapped to Gem when she spoke up again. "What if it's not goodbye though?"

"Not goodbye? Could- could you bring him back?"

She shook her head. "That would be too dangerous. The Watchers have a hold on him in this world. He's out of their reach now but there's no telling what might happen if he were to come back."

"Then what-"

"When I got him access to the world I sent him to, I didn't just get it for him. You could go too Scar."

Scar thought about what his life might look like if he said no to what Gem was offering him. He knew what happened to Grian now, that would no longer be eating away at him bit by bit. He might take another day or so to grieve, then he would probably pull himself together. He could take a road trip, visit Lizzie and Joel. See if he could get in contact with Cleo or Bdubs or maybe even Etho and see what they've been up to since graduation. Maybe he would finally do something about the bakery he'd always wanted to open. He would move on. He would eventually meet someone else that would set his heart racing and maybe one day they would make it official with rings and all of the friends he still had there to be happy for him. He could live a full life and Grian would likely only be a small blip in his past, would eventually fade away with time and distance. It wouldn't be a bad life.

"Will it hurt? Dying?"

He knew what his answer would be the moment she told him he had a choice.

"I'm not sure. He didn't seem to be in pain, but he's died a hundred times over and then some." She twisted her mouth up in thought. "The sword isn't really here, at least not in a way that counts when it comes to nerve endings and pain receptors so probably not?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Scar stood, taking a step towards her. "I'm ready."

He expected her to ask if he were sure, to tell him to consider it, really consider the decision he was making. Instead she just nodded and raised the sword and gripped it tight in both hands, ready. Her eye seemed to glow more, the inky tendrils spreading and pulsing down her arm towards the blade. Outside a car passed, its headlights shining through the window and shifting the shadows. For just a moment, Scar thought Gem's shadow looked off in the new lighting. In those few seconds that it took the car to pass he swore the shadow on the wall behind Gem looked like it had spindly branches arcing out from her head, almost like a pair of antlers. He couldn't focus on it and say for sure what he saw because in the same moment Gem moved forward and the sword was being buried in his chest. "Oh. That pinches?"

He couldn't read her expression as the tightness in his chest grew and expanded outwards. He could feel himself slowly fading. Scar looked at Gem one last time as she pulled the blade back and the spreading tightness seemed to collapse back in on itself. He couldn't form any more words but hoped she saw the gratefulness in his eyes as his vision faded. The last thing he heard was a whisper of “ Good luck .”

For a long while, there was nothing. He seemed to be floating along in the inky black that surrounded him. He tried to remember what was happening to him but each thought slipped away just before he could grab hold. He was pretty sure there was someone, someone he loved maybe? Someone else who helped him, sent him to wherever here was. He stretched and searched but his mind couldn't quite reach that information anymore. He was going somewhere. Maybe. He was supposed to be at least. Was someone waiting for him there? He felt like there was but he no longer knew who. Eventually all he knew was his name and he held onto it tightly, desperate for an anchor in the void.

Then there was light and a hand was outstretched, helping him stand and he was surrounded by color. Bright reds and oranges painting the landscape around them. And a man in front of him, wearing a helmet but he could hear him smiling as he spoke and introduced himself. Scar thought this had to be the person he was looking for. He told Scar his name and how he was the 'admin' of this world that they called Hermitcraft. The man, Xisuma, gave him a few things to get him started and told him to explore, meet the others, and when he was ready, claim a piece of land and get building. He asked what he should build and Xisuma just laughed and told him " Anything. " It felt daunting but he went out and found a spot and figured he could start with a tent. He managed to set up his bed just in time for night to fall and let out a yelp, diving into it when he saw monsters begin to emerge from the darkness around his little patch of land.

His first death wasn't as painful as he expected. He was looking for diamonds when an arrow sprouted from his chest. It felt familiar for just a moment until suddenly as the arrow appeared, it was gone and he was back in his bed in his tent. There was still a bit of soreness but he had been expecting worse when he'd seen the projectile sticking out of his shirt. It was his first death of what quickly became many and with each one it grew easier. With each death the fear that gripped him lessened until dying was as easy as breathing, a bit annoying if you weren't expecting it and couldn't get back to collect your things before they were lost, but easy. He didn't think it was always like this for him but he couldn't remember anything before waking up in the mesas of Hermitcraft so he tried not to dwell on it.

Overtime he made a few more tents, some buildings, a train, a bunch of trees, and so much more to reshape the land. He was proud of his work and excited to move on when he was told they would be leaving, finding a new world to start fresh and create new things in.

He hadn't even realized how much time had passed when the group was ready to move on again. They made a plan for the new world, to divide it up into different styles. Scar pictured the pirate island he wanted to build and how wonderful it would look with a volcano towering over it. He was told that there was someone new joining them for this world, just one opposed to the two that had joined in the previous one, but he was already off in his boat collecting resources and figured he could introduce himself later, maybe once he had a bed to return to whenever something inevitably took his life.

So he collected the materials he needed and he got to work, digging out an alcove and a cave to hide his valuables in. Flooding the passageway to the cave simply seemed like the next logical step, a way to disguise the entrance for added security. That’s what he was working on when he got a visitor. He was knee deep in a puddle of water when a man in a red sweatshirt showed up to say hello.

Scar had just tipped out his latest bucket of water when he caught a glimpse of the newcomer's face and then his eyes. They were dark, deeper than the night sky and the trenches of the oceans, and Scar felt like he was drowning in them. The current created by the latest bucket of water dragged him down as he sunk into the waves of memories washing over him all at once. He opened his mouth to say the man's name, a name he had known for hundreds of years, said a thousand times as a laugh, a complaint, a prayer, and yet somehow forgotten. The water rushed in to fill his mouth and lungs and Scar was coughing, the world around him fading until all he could see was everything he could ever want before it faded to black.

Scar had never taken so long to wake back up after dying. Minutes passed instead of seconds before he was sitting up, gasping for breath at the spawn island. He took another second to breathe, to remind his lungs he was no longer drowning and found his mind wasn't either. The innumerable memories had settled themselves in somewhere between dying and waking. He rushed to get a boat and get back to his island, for once not worried about his things. Let them be lost, he'd gladly go through the work of replacing every thing he had already gathered, just as long as he could return to Grian. He was out of the boat before it had even stopped moving, clambering over the sand and into the cave he'd dug.

The cave that now stood empty, his guest gone as quickly as he'd shown up. He had left Scar's items in a chest and Scar tried to fight through the way his heart dropped as he read the sign above it. The sign was friendly, warm and joking and so… impersonal. It was the kind of sign you could leave for anybody, a stranger, a friend. Not the person who lived over a hundred lives tangled up in yours.

Scar looked again at the empty cave around him and, for the first time since arriving in Hermitcraft, he felt alone.

Chapter Text

The sword was sprouting from his chest before he even knew she was there and a small part of him was a bit embarrassed.  She'd snuck up on him in his own apartment, and to think he'd once been a warrior, battle trained and lethal.

That, of course, was hundreds and hundreds of years ago and he had lived many cushy and comfortable lives since so he was a bit out of practice.

Gem, because of course it was her, Grian dimly recognized the tip of the blade protruding from his chest as the one she had sown him somewhere around a century ago, was not so out of practice. She had told him a bit about her past, some vague details about where she came from and what she had to become. He knew there were some big things she had left out, but he never pushed her to share. That was her story and he could only hope she eventually got her happy ending, it was only fair seeing as she'd spent a long time helping him get, well, as close as he could to one.

"Y'know Gem, you could at least say hi before stabbing a man in the back." His voice cracked and he could already feel himself growing weaker. It wasn't a new feeling, dying was nearly as familiar to him as anything else these days.

"Ah," Gem's voice was loud in his ears. "You've already met this time." She must have let go of the sword since a moment later she was stepping in front of him. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and that dark, void-touched eye made his skin crawl as it settled on him.

He coughed a bit and somehow that hurt more than the sword still in his chest. Possibly because of the sword in his chest but that seemed like a trivial detail at this point. "'Bout a month ago, on an app if you can believe it."

"You don't think it was a coincidence, do you?"

Hundreds of lifetimes and Grian had met Scar in each and every one. Every time he learned something new, about himself, about Scar, or about the details of their, his, curse. He'd learned this time that photos were not quite enough, distorted or too impersonal for whatever magic controlled it if he had to take a guess. He only knew for sure that he would only feel the wash of memories when he looked directly into the other man's eyes. Brilliantly green eyes that had haunted him from the moment he opened that temple door.

He did his best at a small smile, not sure the muscles in his face were still listening to him as each movement brought a twinge of pain. "You and I both know I stopped believing that meeting him was a coincidence several lifetimes ago."

"Yeah," Gem gave him a smile back but he could see the sadness in her expression. "Sorry it took me so long to figure something out. Lots of variables in moving someone between worlds when they're not predisposed to it. Turns out I needed a couple extra enchantments on my sword that were not easy to come by. Then there was the matter of finding you a place to go that They couldn't reach. It was way more work than I expected when I agreed to help you." He knew her enough by now that the annoyance in her tone by the end was just for show. She liked to pretend to be all big and mean but he'd seen her heart. He'd seen it in the way she cared for Pearl time and time again, in the way she was always ready to throw down for whoever she considered a friend on any of her visits to their world, and he'd seen it in the way she'd spent years of her life researching a way to save him from something more powerful than he could even comprehend.

"But you did it? I can finally be done?" He winced as another cough wracked through him.

"Yeah, you can finally rest buddy."

"You could come with me you know? Retire or whatev'r."

That at least got a small laugh out of her. "I don't think I can quite yet. Maybe someday though, and maybe Pearl can even come too. She misses you y'know. Apparently the year she knew you was the best year of her childhood."

"I miss her, sucks that we didn't get much real time together this go'round." Another cough. "I'm glad she has you."

"Sap." Gem scoffed before her face softened ever so slightly. "I'm lucky to have her, even if she's a bit pathetic at times"

"Hey, sorry we can't all be interdimensional bad asses."

Gem just laughed. "Even you have to admit it. Everything is so much more, soft, now. This world really fell off when people stopped carrying swords and such around all the time."

"Sorry we became too civilized for your taste."

Gem laughed again and as it faded there was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "You could still have Scar y'know, I could get him out too Grian."

His head and his heart fought with each other to answer as he worked to shake his head, the pain spiking with each small movement. It was something they'd discussed before, he'd already made up his mind, even if it broke his heart just a bit to accept it. "I- No. I've already dragged him through all of this. I can't drag him into anything else."

Gem sighed. "It's not dragging him if you give him a choice, tell him and let him make his own decision. And I thought we talked about this. It's not your fault Gri."

He tried to focus on her but everything was going a bit fuzzy. He really didn't have the energy to have this argument again. "Y'know last time we almost got engaged? I found the ring in the pocket of one of his jackets I had borrowed."

"How long after that?" Gem knew the pattern of his lives.

"Got hit by a car that night. Would have been nice to get married though, or if They had at least given him the chance to pop the question."

"He still could, one day."

"Gem, please." His voice was more of a wheeze at this point. "How much longer will this take?"

"Just as soon as I pull the sword out. So whenever you're ready."

His legs finally gave out and he sat down on his bed. "I think I'm r-ready, feels a bit odd to be stabbed and not be bleeding if I'm being honest."

"Yeah, extradimensional swords are weird like that. Okay then." She stepped behind him again and he closed his eyes, ready for whatever would be next for him as he felt a small pulse of energy. "Good luck Grian." The sword being pulled out felt like a pinch as the pressure in his chest that had been slowly suffocating him dissipated. He felt lighter as he collapsed backwards onto his bed.

He never hit his sheets though, instead falling back into the familiar cold nothingness of the void. For the first time in so many lifetimes, Grian felt a surge of panic while floating through the emptiness. It didn't work. It didn't work and I'll have left him again for no reason. The fear only spiked when he felt another presence all around him and heard a voice speaking in his head that was still familiar, even after over a thousand years.

"There you are. Curious, we were not expecting you so soon, especially when you vanished from our Sight. Where did you go?"

Grian tried not to think, tried to let his mind go. Maybe if they didn't know they could let him go, maybe he could still make it to wherever Gem had in mind for him. He wasn't sure if they could actually read his thoughts or only the ones he directed at them but he didn't want to chance it.

"What are you hiding from Us? We know you have spoken to the World Hopper. Did you think it would be that easy to leave Us? Abandon Us?"

"Let me go, please." He felt like he was speaking but he couldn't hear his own voice in the vast emptiness. It felt alien and wrong but Grian was sick of not fighting back. "I have done what you've asked of me over and over and I'm done. You can't have me anymore."

"Do you really think you have a say in this? You are Ours, we do not let our things go easily. You are too useful to us, your memories too necessary. We are so close to figuring it out and you have been so instrumental. To lose you now would be disappointing."

"Close to what? What are you trying to do?"

"Oh but you know what we desire. Our priest, our eyes, our chosen. You have brought us so far, finish this for Us and We will end this cycle, you and he will live in peace. Defy us and you will regret it. He is within our grasp, your friend thought she could hide him from us but we See, we know."

Scar. "That- no. No! Gem was supposed to- He wasn't supposed to follow me. I just left, I just died. Theres not been enough time yet."

"Oh, dear child. Time is a finicky thing. You think it exists the same way here as It does there? You know so little of how things work yet think you know so much. You never had a chance against us."

"Please. I'll- I'll stay, just let him go. He never should have been dragged into this. You can have me but leave him." A beat passes, and then, for the first time, Grian could see something else in the void. A set of figures slowly began to take shape before him, the dark cloaks they wore just barely distinguishable from the void itself. The only thing that clearly stood out were the bright white masks adorning each of the figures' faces, obscuring any details Grian could have made out.

He had never seen any physical depictions of the Watchers. Even in his first life, his temple never had a statue or a painting, or stained glass as some other gods had adorning their temples. He could remember asking about it on one of his lives, remembers being told that it was not for them to know what They looked like, just to follow in Their teachings. To watch, to report, to not interfere. He was to live lives of solitude and observations, Unknown to those around him, just like the Watchers. Now, here in front of them, it felt wrong. He felt the need to turn away, that he was seeing something he had no business seeing.

What was he in the face of Gods.

Who was he to think that he and Gem could ever free him.

Useless save for the Watchers plans for him.

He should be grateful they even cared at all.

That they deemed him worth keeping around.

He shouldn't fight them, shouldn't run from his one purpose.

The Watchers grew closer as the haze fell thicker over Grian's thoughts. He didn't even register what was happening until a hand reached out towards him and he was ready to let it. Afterall it would just be so much easier to give in.

As the Watcher's hand was about to make contact with him, Grian felt something strange jump within him. The lingering pulse of energy he had felt just before Gem had removed her sword from his chest now sparked with renewed power from where it had been lying dormant. Within moments, the void was illuminated by a purple glow that emanated from his chest, spilling though that spot she had pierced, like a ghostly image of Gem's sword sprouting once more from his chest but spreading now, encasing the area around him.

He watched though the light as the Watcher pulled its hand back, hissing as if in pain. All the while, the light around him grew and he watched as it incased him, a barrier of magic. Curiously he reached his own hand out and felt the magic hardening around him, growing more opaque and blocking his view of the gods that he could no longer hear. His thoughts were his own once more as the amethyst crystal surrounded him and Grian let out a sob of relief and thanks to his friend. Somehow she had known and she had protected him, truly found a way to keep them from him.

Which meant if the Watchers had been telling the truth, if Scar had been passing through, if Gem had sent him, he too would be safe.

In the end, he wasn't sure how long he was there, in the crystal in the void. Occasionally he could feel it rumble, as if someone were trying to break though. It held though, even if by the time that banging had finally stopped here were splinters through the crystal. Gem was powerful, but the Watchers were still gods, nothing could hold forever. Grian just hoped that maybe they had focused on him enough that they had ignored Scar. Just hoped that wherever he was he was happy and finally free from this nightmare Grian had trapped them in.

After some amount of time, Grian still wasn't sure how much even without the fact of time working differently in the void, he decided it was long enough. Nothing had tried to bang on his crystal in what he felt was a while, and he hoped that the Watchers had given up on him, found something else to occupy their attention. He wasn't quite sure what to do at first, but found himself reaching towards one of the spiderweb cracks that had been left. He let out a deep breath as he tapped it lightly once, twice, three times before it shattered and sent him reeling through the void. He could see nothing around him as the shards spread out around him, just empty void and glinting purple.

He tried to remember what he had been doing here, something about a new home. Somewhere safer, safer than what he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of much as he floated through the vastness. He thought maybe there was someone, someone important, but the details were out of his reach and slipping away faster. He tried to hold onto them but the more he tried the more his head began to pound with an unfamiliar pain. He couldn't even remember what was unfamiliar about it though he knew he'd never experienced it like this before. There was nothing but pain and forgetting and emptiness as he floated along.

…

Grian didn't remember when he closed his eyes. They may have been closed the entire time for all he had been able to see in the vast darkness of the void. When he opened them though, everything was bright, but not unbearably so. It was a welcoming light, brought by the sun and promising the warmth of a new day.

There was a man in a helmet beside him who seemed to perk up as Grian lifted himself to a sitting position from where he had been lying in a patch of grass. "Ah, okay yes, you're awake now I see." The helmeted man seemed to be scanning him over, what for Grian wasn't sure, but he had some form of device in his hand. "I'm sure you are who I think you are but, um, just in case could you tell me your name?"

"Grian," the response is simple until he paused after giving his name as something nagged at the back of his mind. Isn't there more to it? He quickly decided to brush it off and just roll with it. It couldn't be too important if he'd forgotten it. "Yeah, just Grian."

The helmeted man just nodded. "Alright Grian. You are here a bit later than I expected but you are just in time to start the new world with us so, all works out." He pulled out another one of the odd devices he had been looking at before and hands it over to Grian. "Here is your communicator, this will let you talk to all of the other Hermits here on Hermitcraft as well as a few other things. It should come preloaded with everyone's contact information though there are a good many of us so I'd suggest heading out and meeting people once you're a bit settled so you can put some faces to names. If you need anything at all, as the world admin you'll find my information at the top of your list there."

Grian goes into the contacts and reads the first entry. "Ex-eye-zooma?"

"Um well, its pronounced Xisuma. Xisuma Void actually."

Grian ignores the chill that passes through him hearing the admin's last name. The admin explains more about the world he now found himself on and the group of people that inhabited it. It was a lot to process but with his brain frustratingly empty of any memories prior to waking up there was at least plenty of space for this new information. Once the man was done with his spiel Grian gave him his best friendly, non-troublemaker smile.  "Well um thanks, I suppose I'll go find a place to live then." He sauntered over to one of the boats lining the shore of the small island and turned back to the other man. "See you around ex-eye-zooma!" He could just hear the man's sigh over his own cackling laugh as he rowed away.

It only took him a bit to explore the area, following the map and zone layout he found on the communicator. He didn’t really run into many others but did manage to find a spot to at least start building. It was a sunken ship, or half of one at least, and he thought if could be fun to smelt up some glass and create his own little bubble at the bottom of the sea.

It did not go quite as easy as he thought.

In the process, he learned about death on Hermitcraft. Drowned zombies were not something he had expected to contend with, especially not one wielding a trident. That one especially hurt.

But death wasn't permanent, and though it did bring a moment of panic it was only a moment before he was waking back up in his own bed, the sun shining bright and the familiar landscape around him. It was new, different, even if he couldn't quite remember what it was different from.

Once he had a home, he decided it was finally time to start collecting materials. He had ideas for a grand building stretching out of the sea to the sky and to do that he needed things to start it. So he took a look around the underwater caverns near his home, began mining for resources, and a decided on a quick trip to the nether dimension. Which was hot, but mostly fruitful. His return trip did land him a bit further than expected from home though, but at least it gave him a chance to sail about and meet some of his neighbors as Xisuma had suggested.

He stopped by an island that stood out from those around it. The reaching palm trees and stony beach of a shore looked magnificent in the sunshine and Grian had to stop. With a quick look at his map he saw this area had been claimed by someone named Scar as part of the pirate section of the world. Well, no better time than the present to start introducing himself around, especially to someone living so close to him and so obviously skilled in building and landscapes.

It was a bit silly how long it took to find the entrance to his base considering it was just a cave but in his defense, he had been too busy looking at the details Scar had put into the terrain. He was still looking around the cave at the area when he heard a splash and looked to see a man beneath the water at the back of the cave. It didn't look like he was drowning, simply sitting there his image distorted beneath the water as it slowly lapped against the rocks. It was too late when he realized how long the man had been submerged and had only just reached out to help when the man's body vanished with a burst of air that bubbled up to break the water's surface and Grian was alone.

It was jarring for sure but Grian simply shrugged, knowing the man would be waking up in a bed or back at the spawn island if he'd yet to set one up. He did feel a bit bad watching the items float around in the water and decided to be a nice neighbor. Maybe balance out the itch to set up a prank, that could wait until he'd at least introduced himself.

It was easy enough to scoop up the scattered things and plop them into a chest with a sign to remind Scar what a nice guy he was for doing so and headed back to his base to keep working.

…

It was a few days later when he had an unexpected visit. He'd just finished putting the finishing updates on his starter base, turning it into a sunken shipwreck in-a-bottle and giving him so much more space. He was staring at his farms and trying to figure out how to make the room more appealing when he heard the flap of a trapdoor and turned to see who it was. He was expecting maybe Mumbo, who also lived nearby and had quickly grown to be a close friend. Or Xisuma stopping in to check on him as he had a few times since Grian had joined them in this world.

What he didn't expect was a pair of green eyes more familiar than anything, and a tidal wave crashing over him. The empty spaces in Grian's mind that had been nagging at him for days now were flooded with memories reaching back centuries upon centuries. Every life, ever death, every in-between. Every time he had fallen further for the man now impossibly standing in front of him, looking just as haunted by a past he had never before remembered.

"Scar." The word was barely a whisper as it fell from Grian's lips and his heart plummeted in his chest. "No. No, this was supposed to be different. We were supposed to be free, you were supposed to be free." Grian wanted to run, to hide. His starter base was too small for any nooks to disappear into and Scar was between him and the exit.

Scar just took a step forward. "Do you- You do remember don't you?"

All Grian could do was shake his head. "I didn't- It just- Oh, gods." He could feel his chest growing tighter as he struggled to take in a full breath of air. "Oh, I just let you drown. You died, and it was all my fault again." Scar closed the distance and caught him just as his legs gave out on him. The Watcher's had been right, because of course they were. How did he really think he could escape Them.

"Hey, whoa there G. Its okay, I'm okay. It's different here, I think I've probably already died more here than I ever did there and I'm just fine." Grian hated how soothing the hand running up and down his back was.

"How do you remember? Is this some new hell they're putting me through? Letting you remember everything I've done, so you'll realize I'm not worth it?" It was as if every single self deprecating thought he ever had was rising to the surface and spilling over. He'd always known he didn't deserve Scar and now Scar would know it too and the Watchers would always have the last laugh.

"Who would be putting you through this Grian? The Watchers aren't here, they can't get us. We are free. After I got my memories back, no idea why this of all times I did if I'm being quite honest, I sat down and talked with Xisuma.   He knew a bit but I told him the entire truth, at least as far as I know it. I’m sure there's still some things you know that I don’t but he promised me we were safe, They can’t reach us here.”

“Then why are you here Scar?”

“Gem sent me here just like she sent you. I'm not sure why I showed up first bu-"

Grian balled his hands into fists and finally pushed himself away from the other man as he cut him off. "No, why are you here Scar. If we're free, why come see me? You have no obligation, no reason to be near me anymore if the Watcher's aren't putting you in my life to punish me."

"Is that what you think this is Grian?" Scar tried to look him in the eyes but Grian was finding it difficult to look anywhere but the spruce wood of his floor. "I'm here because I care about you Grian."

"No you don't you just think you do. Sure maybe we were together more often than not in the last several lives but you didn't think of me like that before They came along. You wouldn't think of me like that without Their influence." It hurt, denying himself the belief that Scar's words could be true, but he was done being selfish. After everything he had dragged him though, he owed Scar that much. "You deserve to be able to find someone you really care about, not just someone you were made to care about."

"Is that really what you think Grian?" Still unable to look at Scar, Grian nodded. "Oh Grian, none of it was them. It was all you, every time. You drew me in, you made me feel seen. I'm fairly certain I've loved you since the temple, Sunshine."

In all his lives, there was only one where Grian lived in a temple. Grian looked up finally, "No, but. You couldn't have- you never said anything."

"Neither did you but I thought it was pretty obvious. I never wanted to see anyone as much as I wanted to see you. Why else would I have kept coming back? It wasn't for the creepy books lining the walls that I wasn't allowed to touch, that’s for sure."

"But because of me we were trapped for hundreds of lives, I killed you or got you killed. How can you be okay with that?"

"Because you were also the one to get us out G." The smile Scar gave him could melt glaciers. "We’re out and we're here in this amazing place with some amazing people." Scar grabbed Grian's hand and rubbed his thumb over the back. "I'm really happy and you are part of that happiness Grian. It all would be dull without you and I don't want that, I want a new chance, a real chance, with you. If you want me anyways."

Grian didn't let himself think so he couldn't ruin it. "Yes." The word was barely past his lips when Scar's crashed into his. It was a soft kiss, an easing back into it. But Grian could feel it all in that moment. He could feel each and every kiss they had shared, every one they had missed, and anything in between. The warmth of it melted away his remaining worries like ice cream on a sunny day as Grian melted into the embrace of the man he had loved for a thousand years, in a hundred lifetimes. He made sure to say it when they finally conceded to the fact that air was still a necessity unless they wanted a likely embarrassing death message to pop up in the global chat on everyone's communicators. "I love you Scar, I have since you knocked on my door and turned my life on its head. I'll love you until there is nothing left of me to love you."

He could feel Scar's smile against his lips. "Careful G, that sounds awfully like wedding vows."

"Well, I figure after a thousand some-odd years it might not be the worst idea. Plus I think 'till death so us part' never really fit for us anyways."

"I agree, its going to take a lot more that a couple measly deaths to get rid of me." Scar kissed him again and as Grian kissed back, for the first time in a very long time, he felt safe.