thehonorablebat | Monster Mash (Part Two) (Reply)

Between the scenarios they forced him to process, Weir could sometimes find a beach in his mind. He curled up in the sand and wished the waves would swallow him whole. He always woke when the other joined him.

–

He wasn’t any deader.

Weir didn’t know if that was an improvement or not.

He was ‘alive’ and purportedly out of the simulation the Elders mined his capabilities with. But what did he have? No home. No Jane. No Lizzie. No Jen or Nick.

While John lived, a blessing in its own right, he wasn’t his anymore.

He’d only seen John once since he’d woken, and that was enough to know. John had aged. The heavy burden of a soul.

Weir tried to be happy for him. In a way he was. He was glad John had found happiness after his capture. Hoped whatever human he married still lived, and hadn’t become one more victim to ADVENT. He hoped there was a family. John deserved it.

Weir curled up. He never wanted to leave this bed.

–

He dragged himself up two days later. A full week before Dr. Tygan would have liked him up and about. Weir ignored the protests sent to his new inbox, and declined going down to the lab for the time being.

He wanted work.

Weir tore through the Avenger’s scant archive feeling more depressed than when he started. The bed called to him. For a few brief minutes he wallowed about how hard it is to cut off your own head. Even harder to stuff it with garlic once it was off. That’s the sort of thing you needed an accomplice for. Somehow he didn’t think he’d find one on the Avenger.

The only thing left for him was to heed Tygan’s calls. He wandered down to the lab half in a daze that might have had something to do with the lack of blood.

Tygan’s stoic face breaking into concern told him he probably looked about as good as he felt.

–

Weir was back on duty, against Tygan’s objections. But the Resistance needed to get moving. The longer they waited around, the harder it would be later.

His first mission was a marvelous success. John smiled at him in the aftermath, patting his shoulder. They were still friends. It would do.

He returned the smile before retreating back into his quarters. The reclusive vampire returning to its den to rest before the nightly hunt. Or op as the case may be.

Tygan sent up blood bags every evening. He could hardly stomach them, but he managed. A vampire cut off from blood was kind of noticeable. He didn’t want people asking the wrong sort of questions.

He lay down for Rest, wondering if Jane had at least escaped the first shellings.

–

He stuck his toes in the water. Ankle deep. Will could do that.

The other smiled.

In the horizon, seagulls cawed.

Further down the beach, passed this private alcove, he could hear children playing. Their joyful shrieks overpowering the incoming waves.

–

John had taken up drinking like it was a sport. And apparently he had toned down since they got word of Weir’s location. The knowledge was one more thing he could grieve about. John deserved nothing short of happiness. Why did the world have to be so cruel to him?

While Weir slept, John drank. Its own kind of oblivion.

It told Weir that John’s loved one hadn’t made it. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to make things awkward between them. They had a friendly rapport on the Bridge–the only place they interacted–he didn’t want to ruin it.

This came to a head when John cornered him halfway between decks two and three on a night while Weir was on his way to the lab. They stared at one another. Weir felt like a rabbit in a trap.

Not wolf here. Just a rabbit. A prey animal. The Elders had made him prey.

John grabbed him by the front of his parka, yanking him closer.

He tasted alcohol on John’s lips.

Weir shoved him off, and ran. He didn’t bother going to the lab. He pried open the seal doors on deck four and found a hiding spot among the debris. It was dark and cluttered with alien tech. A perfect place for someone to get lost.

–

He didn’t think John remembered the kiss. He greeted him before the next op without a hint of awkwardness. Weir tried to do the same.

–

He wanted to go into the Haven, but he didn’t want to be seen in the Haven.

Good thing he could shapeshift.

He started surveying the conditions in the settlement as best he could as a small bat, hoping no one would get it into their heads to try and eat him.

John spotted him. He held out his hand.

“Do you want a tour?”

It would be awkward later to refuse.

Weir settled himself onto John’s shoulder.

He knew everything about the Haven. What buildings needed priority for reinforcement. How many people lived there full time and how many came and went in a given month. He knew their water situation and the state of what crops ADVENT let them grow.

People sent John a few odd looks as he spoke, but shrugged the oddity off. They probably thought he was drunk.

Weir was glad he wasn’t.

John idly reached up to pet his head as he explained a black market merchant sometimes showed up out of blue during the summer months.

Weir fell asleep.

He woke up and undetermined amount of time later bundled up in John’s navy coat. It smelled like him. He returned to his human form and hugged it to his chest.

How desperate and sad did this make him?

–

The Avenger had no room for a pool. John had no place to swim. The best he could do was sit under the shower for his allotted five minutes. Weir did his best to set the Avenger by water whenever they had to land, and take over duty when they did. John vanished reluctantly, but he did go. With his ridiculous rifle, of course. Never could be too careful. Especially not with Vahlen’s creations running around.

John always came back from his swims relaxed, and he drank less for a few days after.

–

The other brought him things he found on the seafloor.

Will brought him ice cream.

They sat in alcove, Will’s feet dipped in the water.

The other leaned against his leg, and he tried not to blush. He didn’t think he succeeded.

–

“He has some nerve calling the Skirmishers ‘untrustworthy’.” Weir rewound the footage taken from the ruins. The ‘Lost’ weren’t your average zombies. Not the kind he was familiar with anyway.

“Volk’s not that bad,” John said.

“Not that bad…for a wendigo, you mean?” Before the war, there would have never been any way for a group of wendigos to form. Hunters targeted them too quickly and with too much aggression. Wendigos were dangerous. More than vampires a good deal of the time.

Weir would admit these ‘Reapers’ weren’t your average wendigos either. Focusing their bottomless hunger on the aliens at least served a better purpose.

“And you’re not so bad for a vampire,” John shot back.

Volk also somehow convinced John they were friends. Couldn’t forget that.

“Give it time,” Weir said.

“I think I know you pretty well, Will.” John put his hands on his hips. “We’re married.”

“Were married.” Weir paused the footage from Rabbit’s camera. He got a good, up close shot of The Lost’s glowing eyes. Definitely Elerium. Miracle power source, psionic enhancer, and you could treat it a certain way to make zombies. What the hell was this stuff?

“We didn’t exactly get divorced,” John said.

Weir almost didn’t hear him. Too focused on the Lost. Poor things. Was their soul trapped in there?

“Til death do us part.” Weir skipped ahead in the footage to get a look at the Assassin again.

“You were already dead when I married you.” He heard John fold his arms over his chest.

“There’s more than one way a man can die.” He’d gone too far ahead. The Assassin grabbed Mox from behind. Not even a shimmer in the air as a warning.

In his reflection on the screen, John shook his head, lips pressed together.

“I refuse to accept that.”

“Why not? You’ve done a good job of it so far,” Weir said.

“Is that what you think?” John’s hands dropped to his sides. “Look at me, Will.”

Weir managed it. Just.

John got closer. He placed gentle hands on his shoulders.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I can’t just let you go.”

Weir swallowed.

“I…I just…” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Nothing seemed right.

John understood anyway.

“I’ve been trying to give you room to settle. ‘A little at a time’, I thought. It’s been twenty years. I know I’ve changed. I didn’t think that kind of conversation should be had the second you woke up. I wanted to give you time to see if you were still interest in…it’s been hell.”

Weir kissed him, to answer his question.

They sobbed into it.

–

They settled. It wasn’t the same as it was before. There was still too much awkwardness. Things left unspoken between them.

And Weir couldn’t help but think John resented him in some way.

Did he know what he had done? Or did he just resent that he got captured?

Weir was too afraid to ask. As he was too afraid to ask about the person John married. They clearly weren’t around anymore. He didn’t want to reopen another old wound in John. Weir was enough of one.

But John held him until he fell asleep, and kissed him in the evening. They had something approaching comfort. Broken only by John’s drinking and Weir’s continued feeling that he was stealing kisses meant for someone else.

–

They were in Australia.

It took Weir most of the day to realize he recognized the area. This was the place he fled at eighteen, after that argument with Carter. It felt like a lifetime ago. He could barely remember anything that happened back then, and what he did remember…

Well…

Didn’t matter. Not anymore.

The Avenger landed not far from the beach. John had already left for a swim.

Weir felt light headed when he saw the waves. And the sand. Heard the seagulls, not so many of them now, cawing in the distance.

He recognized this too.

–

“I love you.” He was waist deep in water, tasting salt on skin.

Strong hands kept him anchored. Assured him he wouldn’t drown.

“I love you too.”

“Marry me?” Will drew back. He’d been so nervous, but here, with him. It all vanished.

“No one would marry us.” A hand came up to swipe a wet curl out of Will’s eyes.

“Who needs anyone else? I have–” Will moved back, reaching for his bag “–rings!”

He held two in his palm. Felt a wash of heat sweep over his neck and cheeks.

And got a warm, loving smile in return.

“I figured that if we want to be married. Then we’re married,” Will said. “It’s just like a promise.”

John took the rings, still smiling. He put one on Will and the other on his own hand.

“I do know some people who wouldn’t mind putting on a ceremony, they’d be fine with…us.”

John’s responding kiss was the greatest thing he’d ever experienced, he swore.

–

Weir approached the alcove, following the dreamlike memory. He paused when he saw John’s clothes laid out. Another wave of dizziness passed over him. He continued on.

The little alcove was isolated from the rest of the beach. Private in a way.

He spotted John sitting in the shallows, twisting a cheap ring around in his hand. The silver long tarnished.

Weir leaned against the rock.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember…”

John closed his hand around the ring.

“I know. It’s not your fault. I thought you had just forgotten me, but thanks to Marlowe, I know it was worse than that.”

“I almost can’t believe that counted as marriage,” Weir said.

“Magic’s funny,” John said. “I kept the ring here because I didn’t want to lose it in the ocean. I knew I’d be coming back to see you plenty so it wouldn’t matter….only one day you stopped showing up.”

“I…”

“Carter came to see me. Said he cut you loose, and if I knew what was good for the both of us, I wouldn’t go looking for you.”

But he must have known Weir would go to America. He had talked about it to anyone who would listen. He doubted he would have kept that quiet from John, the boy he married in a mock ceremony.

“I thought you married someone else,” Weir said.

“Will, you’re so smart, but you can be so dumb sometimes.” John slipped the ring on on top of the other one. He’d only been married twice. Both times to Will.

“Can I join you?” Will asked.

John smiled.

“I’d like that.”

–

Weir was a selfish man. The last few months highlight that for him. A better person would have been happy for his best friend having a soul.

John would age and die. And Weir would have to go on.

There was a solution, of course.

Unfortunately, John knew that too,

“Why don’t you want to bond with me? We’re already married” John watched him gather up the last of his notes for the Ring meeting in an hour.

“Why are you so eager?” Weir asked.

“If we were bonded when we got married, I would have found you faster.”

Weir grimaced. More like they would have been captured together.

And John might have suspected he…

“Can we talk about this later?”

“If I let you do that, you’ll keep dodging,” John said.

“Do you really want to live forever?” Weir asked, knowing the answer to that. Who would want to?

John, as always, surprised him.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” he said.

“Who says you will?” He knew it was a weak deflection, but when John looked at him, he couldn’t think up a convincing enough lie.

“You have a habit of disappearing on me. Every time you do, It shortens my life more than getting a soul did,” John said.

Weir swallowed.

“You can do better.”

“I think we’ve had this conversation before,” John said.

“I’m afraid one day you’ll change your mind,” Weir said.

“It’s been twenty years, forty-eight years, I haven’t changed my mind yet. Even after finding out what you did. What more can I do to convince you?” John put a hand on his chin, tilting his head up to look at him.

Weir’s computer beeped, telling him he needed to head down to the ring. He backed away. Taking the out provided to him.

–

He found John with a bucket of water. He wet his head, trying not to spill any.

Weir ached for him. He wished there was something he could do. The obvious solution was win the war, and get John a lake house.

“I’m sorry,” John said.

“What for?” Weir sat down, wrapping his arms around him.

“For pushing you.” John leaned into him. “You just got rescued, you need time to adjust still, and all I’m doing is making it harder.”

“There isn’t anything that can make it easier. It helps, still being able to hold you like this.”

“I try to help, but I only manage to do the wrong thing,” John said.

“I haven’t exactly made it easy,” Weir said.

John shifted, tilting his head up to kiss him softly.

“I know ADVENT put you through more than Tygan told me. I’m not going to force you to tell me what they did to you.”