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The fog still clung to Martin as he exited the Lonely hand in hand with Jon. The moment of clarity when Jon forced him to See is fading step by step the Sight pushed the Fog away but its greedy and won't stop at grabbing at him. Martin Knew it wouldn't claim him again at least not while he had Jon, but that didn't stop it from trying. The Forsaken wanted its prize back.
Martin blinked in and out of reality catching small glimpses here and there of the world around him. Jon was always there though out of every inconsistency of his “when's” and “wheres” Jon stood by him. Not always by his side but never out of reach.
Martin blinked and Jon was leading him out of the tunnels, Jons hands were warm against the piercing cold of his own. Distantly martin wondered if his hands would ever be warm again, or if the blue would ever leave his frosted tips of his fingers. But for now, Jon was taking twists and turns he could has sworn weren't their last time he walked through with Peter. As they left from an exit he has never seen before Martin trusted Jon to keep him safe as the fog blocked his view once again.
Blinking again they were in a bar words were thrown around and martin didn't have the mind to catch more than a handful. “Scotland”, and “safe house” pricked his ears, but the world was dissolving fast around him. The last thing martin heard before he succumbed to the fog was a stern woman's voice “be ok martin.” it didn't sound like a choice, but he found comfort in it all the same. Nodding to the woman as the fog crept back in.
The next blink he stood in an old flat one he once called “home”. How long ago was that? Did it even matter?
Jon was off moving things he thought might be important into bags carefully wiping he thick dust off each item before stowing it away. Haft the things Martin couldn't remember even owning but Jon thought they might be important then they simply must be. Jon Knew so much after all. Martin stayed sat in his old chair watching for a while perhaps the longest he held on to the world without the fog. Just watching Jon. He couldn't think of anything to say so he simply didn't. Until the chill of the fog crept in and he was pushed under the dense waves yet again.
The next blink they were in a small convenient store. Jon was muttering over and over about things he thinks they will need so they don't have to leave the safe house for as long as possible. Martin doesn't comment even when he looks down at the cart and sees how much tea Jon has thrown in it. Nearly every kind the small store provides.
The fog settles as they finish up and take the groceries to the car depositing everything into the boot. Martin couldn't help but notice how little Jon packed of his own person items especially compared to how much of martins he brought. Martin searched his memories but came up empty when he tried to remember if they even stopped at Jons flat. He was sure after everything he would remember that. Lord knows how many times he daydreamed about being there. But before he could force his tongue to push out his lingering thoughts the fog crept up and dragged him back to the dark yet again.
Then they were what martin could only guess was the safe house. He was sat on an old chair watching Jon move around the terribly small kitchen. Moving from cabinet to cabinet removing old or questionable looking items before replacing them with the ones he bought hours before. There as a constant murmur to him. Like if he stopped and let the silence in it would never leave. Back and forth he moved. Martin wanted to get up and help but even if he could feel the chair under him, he could quite feel his legs or shake the fog completely out of his head. Instead, content to watch the poor Archivist work himself into a knot worrying over everything. Martin will make it up to him. At some point, when he could feel something other than numb content.
Jon must have noticed martin watching him. At least noticed his eyes appear clearer. He doesn't stop his muttering but redirected it to making them both some tea. Hopeful that he can keep martin here with him. Not the Jon doesn't want to give martin time to adjust it's just been well lonely coming this far alone.
Martin watches as Jon pulls out two mugs that he distantly remembers being from the archives break room and fills them both up from the tap before reaching for the microwave right above the stove.
“What the hell are you doing?”
It surprises them both, being the first words out of his mouth since he left the Lonely what feels like decades ago.
“Uh well- uh making tea?” Jon responds after a weighted breath. Looking between the mugs of water the microwave and martin. The sight pulls a near hysterical laugh out of martin.
“Boil the water like a normal person. Th-the kettle is right there” martin says in-between laughs pointing at the kettle already on the stove.
“This would be faster!” Jon defends himself trying to keep a straight face, but he can't help but have a smile creep onto his face. His shoulders relax for the first time Martin can remember.
“Just move” martin moves to stand. After pushing Jon, to the side slightly and filling the kettle he realizes what he is doing looking down at his hands and flexes them a few times before looking back to Jon. He is staring at martin with so much love and hope in his eyes. Martin smiles back at him and pulling him into a hug.
“Thanks for keeping us safe.” martin says against Jon where he has him pulled in. Jon nods his breath hitches. Matin pulls back seeing tear shining in Jons unnatural green eye. Lightly kissing Jons forehead smiles and says, “but never try to make tea with a microwave ever again.”