Chapter Text
Grian’s heart is still racing from adrenaline when he lands amongst void and stars. Not because of the fight — but for reasons he’s frankly still too scared to put into words.
The relief that hits when Martyn pops into existence mere moments later crashes over him like a tidal wave. Grian thinks he would’ve fallen over if not for gentle, but firm hands coming to help hold him up. He can’t even get out a ‘thanks’ to Scar before the shouting begins, and maybe…yeah, maybe he should’ve known this was coming one way or another.
“What the hell, Martyn?” Scott yells, eyes sharp as he starts forward. His fists are closed into tight fists at his side, and Grian swears the usually even-tempered man is shaking with rage. “I thought we had an agreement! We said if there was a chance for someone else to win, especially one of our partners—“
Grian feels like he’s going to be sick.
“—we’d make sure it happened! And you—“ Scott’s voice cuts out, whether out of agony or anger, Grian can’t tell. The second winner’s hands come up to grasp at the air, trembling. “You self-centered, egotistical, traitor—!“
“Alright, that’s enough!” an unexpected voice calls.
The group, the majority of which hasn’t said a word (god, Grian hasn’t even had a moment to glance at Pearl, alive and well), looks to Joel. Joel, who meets Scott’s fiery gaze with his own, though what’s fueling it is all too different.
“Joel,” Scott scoffs disbelievingly, “Come on, you were rooting for Jimmy, too! I thought of all people, you’d understand.“
The brunet’s eyes narrow. “I do, Scott. Trust me. Of course I wanted my best friend to win — what, do you think I’m an idiot?”
Scott bristles and clenches his jaw. “I didn’t mean—“
“Scott, I swear to god if you don’t shut up in the next two seconds, I will make you,” Joel spits.
Behind him, Grian hears Scar take in a sharp breath. Immediately, Grian knows what his partner must be thinking, because he’s thinking it too.
They’ve never seen if death was even possible in this realm — or how permanent it would be if it was.
That threat, hollow or not, seems to be enough for Scott to back down, if only temporarily. Joel huffs, sets his shoulders, and meets each of their eyes with his own, the blaze within them only slightly cooled.
“Listen up,” he sneers, no-nonsense. “I need to get back. When we were taken, Lizzie was past seven months, and I’m not wasting a single second longer to get to her.”
The reminder sucks any remaining air out of the space. Grian doesn’t miss how Joel’s eyes glint, not with anger any more, but with tears.
The brunet continues on, gaze shifting to look at Martyn. “But I’m not leaving without this settled, because I think we all deserve to know,” Joel says. “Because Scott’s right — we did have a deal.” Dark eyes narrow. “And you’re lucky it wasn’t Lizzie in Jimmy’s shoes, because you’d be a dead man walking. So explain yourself.”
Grian can feel himself pale. Can feel Scar’s grip on his arms tighten, can see the way Pearl’s neutral stance shifts into something agitated and how Scott’s chin lifts with vindication.
How they all stare, expectantly, at the first person to win one of Their games not once, but twice.
For once, Martyn looks at a loss for words. “I…I don’t know how to— it’s—“
“Ren was already out,” Scott reminds him haughtily, words biting. “Just in case you forgot.”
Martyn’s head snaps in his direction. “You think I didn’t know?!” he shouts. “You think I don’t understand what this looks like?”
Through gritted teeth, Scott asks, “Then why couldn’t you just let Jimmy win? Was that so difficult?” His hands raise in question. “What, you couldn’t handle being on red life after all that time? Was that it?”
“H-Hey,” Grian finally speaks up, albeit weakly. “Come on, guys, maybe we should give him a break—“
But it’s too late. Martyn steps forward toward Scott, eyes burning, and the moment his mouth opens, Grian knows what’s coming.
“You think I’m selfish?” Martyn demands, seething. “Huh? Like I’m just some bloodthirsty bastard who wanted to take the win one more time? Is that really what you think?”
Scott blinks in surprise.
Grian tries once more, pleading, “Martyn—“
The blonde whirls on him. “No, no! You don’t get to say shit! Not when you were thinking the exact same thing!”
Pearl groans impatiently. “Which was what? I swear we’re talking in circles here!”
Martyn, whose eyes had gone to her, lands straight back on him. Waiting. Expecting. Knowing.
Grian shudders and looks away, ashamed. He barely registers the way Scar brings him back closer against his chest, the silence ringing in his ears.
After several seconds with no response pass, Martyn huffs. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” He turns on his heel, and Grian shrinks back into Scar even more.
The blond stands there for a moment facing the others, hands on his hips, and clearly deliberates over how to say it. Then, without warning:
“As soon as I saw that damn symbol at spawn, I thought I knew what was going to happen,” Martyn tells them. “That, plus the whole time-travel gimmick, it seemed obvious. Oh look, history is literally repeating itself, where have we seen that before?” he asks in a mocking tone.
No one answers. Martyn shakes his head. “I didn’t know how exactly it’d end, but once it did…” he trails off, then shrugs. “I figured They’d take the winner just like they did with Grian. Start this whole thing all over again, or at least torture them for a bit of fun.”
A stunned silence falls over the group. For Grian, though, it’s a silence defined by guilt more than anything.
The blond at the center seems to struggle then, words catching in his throat. “And I just—“ he stops, swallows harshly, then starts again. “I figured if there was anyone best suited to take the fall, it was me.”
Scott whispers, horrified, “Martyn.”
The man in question hangs his head. “And so that’s why I took Tim out,” he finally confesses.
“And why I took Gem out,” Grian mutters from his Scar cocoon. He isn’t surprised when the arms around him tighten just that bit more.
Blue eyes meet his momentarily, understanding passing between them. Then Martyn shrugs again, blinking his eyes like if he did it fast enough, the tears they could all so clearly see wouldn’t surface.
“I couldn’t—“ Martyn chokes. “I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing— or at least, what I thought I knew was going to happen, and not doing anything about it. I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself,” he admits. He sighs, a sudden weariness falling over him. “So I did everything I could, played every side, and I dunno, thought if I got all of you mad at me, maybe then you wouldn’t miss me as much when They—“
He can’t get the next word out, because Pearl had stepped forward and crushed him against her in a hug.
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she demands. Grian feels his own eyes start to water when tears stream down her cheeks. Her eyes squeeze shut forcefully a moment later to stop them, but her voice doesn’t waver. “Now you listen to me, Martyn Littlewood. And because Ren isn’t here to say this, I will. There is nothing we wouldn’t have done to get you back if that’d happened,” she declares. “Nothing, you hear me?”
Grian wrenches himself out of Scar’s hold and steps forward, hand going over his heart. “And we would’ve missed you every day until we got you back,” he swears.
Martyn, though clearly relieved, turns in Pearl’s grasp to give Grian a knowing look. “If you got me back,” he says. “Come on, Grian. We know how this works.”
“Maybe we don’t,” Scar pipes up, making the three blink in surprise. “We know how it worked that one time all those years ago, but that’s it, right?”
Joel, who at some point came to stand next to Martyn with a hand on his shoulder, adds, “Yeah, who’s to say those bastards wouldn’t change up the rules? I get where you two were coming from — shit, it makes a lot of sense looking back. Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing in your position with what you’ve been through before.”
At that, Martyn lets out a noise that’s some mix between a laugh and a hiccup. He wipes roughly at his eyes, red for reasons other than a death game, and offers the group a watery smile.
And then, slowly, as if all realizing at once that there is still one person who hasn’t spoken again, they turn to look at Scott in sync.
Scott seems to have wilted in on himself, one hand now gripping his opposing arm and his head tilted down meekly. “I agree with everything Joel said,” he murmurs. Then, he peers up past all of them, looking straight at Martyn.
“I—“ Scott’s voice cracks into something like a whine, and tears flood teal eyes. “I’m so sorry, Martyn, I should have never assumed—“
And Grian watches as Martyn lifts up one his arms still wrapped around Pearl, a silent invitation. Scott takes it instantly, flinging himself into the embrace and sobbing. It only takes a nudge from Scar before Grian is doing the same, his heart warming as all six of them huddle together in the cold of the void.
“H-He was just so close,” Scott was saying shakily, to the understanding hums and empathetic nods of the group. “I-I thought this was it, I thought he was gonna win, and I—“ His voice breaks off again, dissolving back into tears.
“Next time, we talk things through,” Joel states with no room for argument. His dark eyes meet Grian and Martyn’s kindly, but sternly. “If any of us think something’s up, we meet and we talk about it — regardless of alliances or number of lives. Deal?”
‘Deal’ echoes soundly across the group in unison.
Joel sighs and nods. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind—“
Pearl gasps in realization. “You’ve got a baby to get to!”
A wide, but nervous grin comes onto Joel’s face. “That, I do!”
The embrace breaks apart all at once amidst a barrage of well-wishes. Joel disappears only moments later with a wave, and after that, they split off. Pearl and Grian reunite properly, both of them apologizing simultaneously, then laughing and diving in for a hug. Off to the side, Grian can see Scott offering his own apologies to Martyn again, but they seem to be brushed off quickly by the blond, who seems lighter than he has in weeks even with exhaustion clinging to his frame.
Eventually though — and as always — Grian’s attention is brought back to the man who holds his heart. And his body, because Scar’s arms have snaked yet again around his waist while he was catching up with Pearl.
The moment she pops out of existence back to hermitcraft, Grian tilts his head up, elbowing the man behind him lightly. “Clingy,” he teases.
“Yep!” Scar replies brightly. “Cabin crew was fun, but I’m ready to go back home. Bed isn’t the same without you in it.”
Grian blushes, hissing, “Phrasing, Scar, phrasing.”
His partner merely responds with a laugh that sounds like cleaning a dirty window — and Grian can only roll his eyes fondly.
“Ayup,” Martyn calls, and the two look over. Martyn nods between him and Scott. “We’re gonna head out. You two good?”
Scar offers a thumbs up, and Grian nods back. “Yeah, we’re good!”
They wave, and that’s that. Back to normal life for however long they get until the next go around.
Grian sighs at the thought of it, but doesn’t let it linger long. He’s too eager to get back home to his base, not to mention to see Mumbo and the rest of the hermits again.
“Alright,” he says, stepping out of Scar’s hold and putting his arms up to stretch. “What’s say you and I get out of— oh?” he says, abruptly finding himself in his partner’s embrace yet again. Only this time, they’re chest to chest, with Scar’s face buried in his shoulder.
Slowly, Grian lowers his arms down to hook around Scar’s neck, concern trickling in. “You okay?” he asks softly.
“We would’ve searched for you, too,” Scar replies — and Grian stills with immediate understanding. His partner leans back, warm hands coming to cup his cheeks. Scar stares down at him with watery eyes.
“Please tell me you know that,” the brunet begs him. “Please tell me you know I would tear this universe apart to find you if anything happened to you. And that I wouldn’t stop until I got you back. You have to know that, G.”
Grian stares at him wide-eyed, awestruck. “I…” he trails off, suddenly breathless.
Forest green eyes — the ones that he wakes up to every morning, the ones that gaze at him with unfiltered adoration, that whisper silent promises when words can’t reach, that glint with excitement when a new challenge arises, that squint with humor at the silliest jokes, that know his soul better than he himself does — stare right back.
Something inside Grian crumbles; the last remaining wall, one he didn’t even know was there. And he nods, then nods again, and again, and he doesn’t stop nodding when the tears start to flow, only stops when Scar tucks him against his chest and holds him tight enough to end the trembling, the worry, the guilt, the self-sacrificing nature that Grian used to value in himself, but now can only see the truth of.
And that truth is that sacrificing himself would only hurt those he loves. Even further, it wouldn’t matter who it was in this group. None of them would ever let any of them take the fall for the rest.
And god, had he been ready to take it again. He’d spent weeks curled up next to Pearl and Gem in that stupid tiny bed, wide awake. Remembering the confusion, the pain, the loneliness, the deal.
Waiting for it to happen all over again.
“You’re so loved, G,” Scar whispers, and Grian only breaks further, endlessly grateful that he’s in the arms of someone who’s held him together time and time again. “Don’t you forget it, okay, mister?”
He sniffs, gross and snotty. “Okay,” Grian croaks.
There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to the top of his head. Then: “Come on,” Scar says gently. “I bet Mumbo is waiting at spawn — how’s about we have a sleepover, hm? I see those bags under your eyes. I think a good night’s rest is just what you need.”
The mention of Mumbo alone is enough to cheer him up. “Ugh,” Grian groans good-naturedly, stepping back from the embrace to rub at his face. “Don’t remind me. I bet I look as awful as I feel.”
He glances up and sees bright green eyes sparkling down at him. “Well then, you must be feeling absolutely delightful!” Scar grins.
Grian shakes his head. “Dummy.”
His partner only smiles wider. “Light of my life.”
Rolling his eyes, the first winner takes his lover’s hand. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go home.”
And he does so with the knowledge that he is fully, truly loved.