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Martin rolls over in bed, once, twice, three times. He elbows Jon in the side in all his thrashing. "Ow! Martin..."
Jon is still awake, nearly dozed off by the time Martin begins stirring. He sighs softly and shifts to look at him, to observe him as he squirms restlessly in the bed. He's still asleep, Jon realizes once he catches sight of his face— brows pinched, lips wound into a tight frown. He whimpers.
It's a nightmare.
Jon lays his hand on Martin's shoulder to try and calm him, but he's bigger and stronger, it seems to do nothing to soothe him at all. "Martin," He tries, voice small. "Martin," he tries again, louder.
Martin's whimpering continues, and ramps up into a cry, "No!" He exclaims, still fast asleep. Jon grips his shoulder and gives it a firm shake. Martin's eyes shoot open wide just as quickly as he sits up, and the tears come trickling down his cheeks soon after. He takes a shallow breath, choking on sobs, shaking like he's freezing, but he's drenched in sweat.
Jon's wide awake now, crawling over to sit in front of Martin and hold him close. "It's alright, you were only dreaming. It's over. I'm right here." He buries a hand in Martin's bed head, combing through it, petting it back down.
Jon doesn't ask if Martin wants to talk about it. He already knows that he doesn't, and he can guess what it was about anyways. Jon lets him cry himself out, doing his best to soothe him. "I'm okay," Martin croaks, his voice still crackling with emotion. "I'm alright now. Thank you. What time is it?"
Jon leans back, brushing some tears from Martin's cheek. "Midnight. You should get some more rest."
Martin sniffs and pokes a finger into Jon's chest, lightening up. "You should get some more rest," he says with a small smile. "You don't look like I woke you at all. You haven't been reading, have you?"
Jon glances at the open book he was dozing off into, then returns his gaze to Martin's sheepishly. "I've finished for the night."
"Good." Martin nods once. "I need something to cuddle."
Jon lays down and shuffles close. "Alright, alright. But I'm rolling over if I get too hot."
"Fine by me."
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The dirt roads finally turn to pavement under the car's wheels, a smooth hum replacing the sound of soil and rocks being thrown by the tyres. Jon's leaned up against the window as Martin drives. Neither of them have said a word to each other since they started towards the airport.
They don't need to exchange any words for Jon to know what's on Martin's mind. He's afraid. Afraid of being alone, afraid Jon won't come back. It's been unspoken between them but it's still so loud.
He turns on the radio in an attempt to do something about the oppressive silence. Classic rock just barely whispers from the speakers. When he reaches for the volume knob, Martin stops him.
"I'm not... I'm not really in the mood for loud music, Jon."
"I can change the station, if you like."
"No," Martin sighs, realizing how on edge he sounds, and tries to soften. "No, it's fine."
"Is it?" He's not talking about the music. Martin glances from the road for just a moment to meet his eyes, just to avoid them again.
Jon watches his throat bob as he swallows. "Yes."
Okay, so he's still pretending everything's fine. Not ideal. "Martin, I know you're anxious about my trip, but..."
It's as if the very mention of the topic slights Martin. "I'm trying not to think about it!" He snaps.
Jon winces at Martin's raised voice, and responds with knee-jerk indignance before he can check himself. "Well, that's obviously not working, is it?" The look in Martin's eyes makes him regret taking on that tone entirely. Jon sighs, combs his hair with his fingers, and tries again, gentler. "Let's not fight."
If he does die out there, he wouldn't want this to be their final moment.
No. He can't think like that. He's going to be fine, he's going to collect his information and then return home safe and sound right into Martin's arms. If only Martin would believe it so.
Jon's hand is cold against Martin's shoulder. Slender fingers give a firm, grounding squeeze. I'm right here, the grip says. "I know there's nothing I can say to ease this for you, but I can't cope with this whole silent standoff."
A sign whizzes past them.
Airport
Ardersier
They're getting close. Martin's grip on the wheel tightens, relaxes, tightens, and relaxes. He has his lips parted like he's going to say something, but it never comes.
"Hey. Guess what?" Jon was going to save this for when he was inside the airport, but maybe it'll lighten Martin's spirits just a bit if he changes the subject and drops a hint about his secret project. "I've got something for you before I leave. A present."
He can tell Martin's trying not to betray his intrigue, but there is a noticeable perk. "A present?"
"Something for you to keep with you while I'm away." Jon's heart swells when he sees the faint smile cross Martin's face. "You don't get to see it until we get there, though. It was supposed to be a surprise."
"You're not making this drive any easier. Now I'm anxious to get there and see what you mean." Thankfully, although Jon knows the worry isn't gone, Martin's tone is more lighthearted. "It's not another book, is it? You keep giving me recommendations before I can finish the ones I'm still on!"
"There's too many good ones to wait for you to finish!"
"Jon!" Martin laughs, exasperated. "I'll be too sick with worry to read it!"
"It's not a book, Martin, I promise. You'll like it."
"Of course I'll like it. It's from you."
Ohh, shut up you big sap, Jon thinks, blushing. "I hope so."
Welcome to
INVERNESS
AIRPORT
Fàilte gu
PORT-ADHAIR INBHIR NIS
Gateway to
The Highlands
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"Any more nightmares?"
The steam rising from Jon's mug smells amazing, taunting him with the aroma of coffee too hot to drink yet. Pot in hand, Martin moves back to the kitchen counter after pouring it. "Mm? No, not after I fell back asleep. Why, was I still thrashing?"
"I wouldn't know. I fell asleep too fast." Jon raises the mug to blow gently over the scalding liquid, itching for his much-needed caffeination. "You've been having more lately, that's all."
It's no secret why. Jon has a trip to Canada soon, to follow a trail left for him in the statements more directly. They had fought about it at first, with Martin insisting it was too dangerous, and Jon reminding him they had both come face-to-face with much worse and he can handle himself.
The conflict was never so much resolved as it was swept under the rug, but as the days count down towards his flight, there's been a looming tension. Martin's so troubled about it. Jon's been wondering how he could placate him, and drawing a blank.
Martin is avoiding him, not on purpose but still very conveniently, stirring some scrambled eggs. "Hah, that's nothing new when I'm stressed. It's just what happens, ever since I was a kid."
"Tsss— Ow!" Jon gambles for a sip and pays the price for his impatience with a tender burnt tongue. Martin tsks at him, and Jon swears he can hear the smile in it. "That sounds difficult for a child."
"It was," Martin shrugs, casual. "But I coped." He continues in a mumble, "Rbn hlpt..."
"Sorry?" Jon ignores the coffee for now. A watched beverage never cools.
Martin shifts on his feet, obviously stalling.
"I said," He begins, scooping egg onto two plates and bringing them to the table. His gaze seems to fall anywhere except Jon's own, and his face is pink. "Robin helped."
Jon raises an eyebrow. "Robin? You never told me you had a nanny."
"PFFT— A nanny?" Martin shakes his head, grinning. "Robin was the name of my stuffed robin. Veeery creative, I know. My mum got him for me..." He stiffens a bit, like he's feeling the bittersweetness of the memory head on, but it passes quickly. "And I took him everywhere until he fell apart. I'll never forget the way he smelled when he was brand new. Like strawberries. Mum told me monsters were allergic to strawberries, so whenever I woke up from a bad dream, I'd..."
A beat. Martin turns redder, finally realizing he's spoken too much for his own comfort. He tactfully stuffs a forkful of egg into his mouth to shut himself up.
Eyes sparkling with affection, Jon finishes the sentence for him. "You'd hold him, and he'd protect you from them?" Martin turns his head away slightly and nods while he chews. "That's adorable." He eats some of his own eggs, smiling as he chews thanks to the lovable innocence of the childhood memory.
Martin puffs an embarrassed breath, and straightens his back. "Yes, well. I've got you to keep the terrors at bay now."
It hardly counts for anything when I am a terror. Jon's mind slams him with the thought against his will. He almost physically shakes it away and stretches his legs to ground himself back in the conversation. "Sure. But I don't smell like strawberries."
"No," Martin's lips curve into an amused smile. "But I don't think anything we've been through could have been prevented by a bit of fruity cologne."
Coffee finally cooled, Jon lifts the mug to cover his mischievous smile. "Well, you never know." Siiip.
Maybe it's time to dig up his old sewing supplies.
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"You've got everything?"
"Yes, Martin. I double checked."
"Your phone's charged? Battery pack too?"
"Yes and yes."
"And you'll call me when you land? And at the hotel?"
"And every morning and every night, I promise. Give me a little credit, Martin."
For the first time in 24 hours, Martin takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and then opening them again once he's more relaxed. "Sorry, I just—"
"I know." Jon cups his cheek, stroking the freckled skin with his thumb tenderly. He boosts himself up onto his toes to give Martin a gentle peck on the lips. "I'll be away, but I won't be gone. Besides, you'll be in good company."
Puzzled, Martin tilts his head and gives Jon a look. "What do you mean?"
Finally, the moment he'd been waiting for is here. Jon, previously moving sluggishly from the burden of his heavy luggage, is suddenly alive with energy as he slings his rucksack off of one shoulder and unzips it with an earnest zeal.
"Oh! Your present! Jeez, we've only been here, what, ten minutes? I already forgot all about it I'm so bundled up with nerves." When Martin lays eyes on the gift bag, his excited expression is so refreshing to see, bright and eager, like he hadn't just been fretting endlessly for weeks.
He accepts it when it's passed over to him, and only hesitates for a moment before pulling the paper from the top and grasping blindly at what's inside. It's soft and round, and when he pulls it out, his wide eyes immediately gloss with tears.
A plush robin. "Jon...!" He's speechless.
"I sewed it myself." Jon's grinning from ear to ear as he watches Martin's fingers brush over the textured plush. "It was pretty difficult to keep hidden from you! I thought you might have suspected me when you found my thread lying about."
Realization crosses Martin's face. "You—! You said you were mending some trousers! You sneaky little bastard!" Martin sniffles, touched by the love and care that was clearly put into the crafting of the friendly looking bird.
"There's one more thing."
Wiping the stray tears from his eyes, Martin tucks the robin under his arm and reaches back into the bag to pull out a small pink bottle. At first, he's confused. Then, as he reads the label, he brightens again. "Jon, you didn't! Strawberry perfume? How long have you been planning this?"
Proud of himself, Jon plucks the rubbish from Martin's hands and folds it up half-neatly. "Oh, only a few weeks. After you told me about the robin you used to have. I wanted you to have something to hold onto while I'm gone." He brushes the wetness from Martin's cheek, and then tucks some hair behind his ear. "To keep the monsters away."
Before he even has time to blink, Martin's arms are around him, and he's being kissed. Giddy, Jon leans up on his toes and holds his chest against Martin's until he can feel the stares of the other passengers boring into them.
"I love it. I love you." Martin says once Jon's back on his feet. "Thank you."
"Of course. I love you too." Jon checks his watch, and gathers his things, feeling much warmer. "Alright. I have to go now, so I make it to my gate on time." One last kiss for the road, and he's wheeling his suitcase towards security.
"Be safe!" Martin calls after him, still misty-eyed. Jon waves back as he hurries forwards.
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The passenger seat Martin thought would be hauntingly empty on the drive home is occupied by a reminder:
He's loved.