Martin Calls Jeremiah from Malta

So I assume some doohicky has been hooked up such that Jeremiah can talk on the telephone. Worse comes to worse there's some kind of jerryrigged speakerphone

Anyway, Martin hasn't been calling from Ethiopia because there are like two telephones there and they're both owned by Italian facists.

Yup.

But one day Cecil gets a call from Malta and there's only one person that would be, so he puts Jeremiah on the line.

"Hello?"

That's Martin. His voice sounds tinny, long-distance, and a little bit hollow.

"Martin?"

"Jeremiah." Immediate relief, and a tiny bit of life comes back into his tone. He'll sit there, breathing quietly, until Jeremiah says something else.

"Are you alright?"

(No point in beating around the bush when you're a brain in a jar!)

"Yeah." It's a lie, and not even a very good one. A little laugh. "Maybe. Well. Not entirely. It's better now that -- you're here." Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Oh Martin, what happened?"

"We had to kill some people. In Dallol." Pause, for remembering that Jeremiah might not know where Dallol is. "Ethiopia.

"It feels -- it's not -- it's not great -- killing cultists. To kill cultists. I mean. I was almost a cultist. You know? Before you -- came back.

"-- I've missed you.

"I miss you too, beloved.

"Do you want to talk about Dallol? Or -- we could talk about something else. Anything you want."

A smile in Martin's voice. "God, I've missed you.

"I'm going to get your body back, you know.

"I'm gonna do it, and I'm going to bring wine from Malta and we're gonna drink it together.

"That's the plan."

"I look forward to it."

A hint of a smile in his voice alone.

"...Martin?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you -- will -- when do you think you might be able to call again?

"If -- if you know, that is.

"It's alright if you don't."

"I don't know. I --" Sigh. "We just got to Malta. We should be able to call out from here just fine -- I can call you again tomorrow -- one of the nice things about being on a sponsored mission is that you can pay for the phone with someone else's money."

[note: the party is getting money from a woman called Janet Winston-Rogers, it's great, it's totally free saving-the-world money]

"And all the phones aren't owned by facists.

"In Ethopia they were all owned by facists.

"Italian facists.

"So the badly organized kind."

Jeremiah laughs.

"The Germans make the trains run on time. Or something.

"I guess trains running on time is good.

"God, I miss you."

"Well, nothing quite so exciting here, but I'm pretty sure there are no fascists, at least."

"Well, I, uh, miss that too." Little laugh. "Did you know I had to light a guy's pocket on fire?" "He wasn't one of the ones we had to kill."

"Just his pocket?"

"Well, most of his pants.

"...it was pretty great, actually."

Note of slightly sardonic pride.

"For reasons that couldn't have been accomplished by picking his pocket, I assume?"

Wry amusement.

"Nah, he was trying to kidnap me at the time."

And then the worry he gets when he knows Jeremiah is going to worry about him, "Ah, crap, I shouldn't have told you that."

(Martin: much more open around Jeremiah than around anyone else)

(mostly to his detriment)

Indeed, there is a small distressed sound.

"What?

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine.

"It wasn't a very good kidnapping."

Martin is waving his arms around, not that Jeremiah can see it.

But he probably knows the tone of voice.

"I'd give it a three out of ten.

"Excellent approach. Got drugged. There were some initial problems."

More distressed sounds.

"But they got, ah, lulled into a false sense of security. It was okay. I think I've gotten better at acting depressed and suicidal even when I'm not. Very good for secretly igniting people's clothing. Ten out of ten, Martin escapes kidnapping."

Then, a little desperately. "I want to live. For you.

"I'm not going to -- just get kidnapped. Not anymore."

Quietly, "Please take care of yourself.

"Promise me?"

Nod.

Then

"I will.

"...

"...I want to come back.

"I didn't -- I didn't want to before.

"But I do now.

"I -- I miss you so much."

"I miss you too."

"Oh, Martin." And then, again, quietly, almost like a prayer: "Martin. I love you."

"I love you." And it's an echo, quiet and hoarse and real.

Betsy: Sigh. "I should go now. This is a hotel phone and other people want to use it."

"Alright.

"If -- if it's alright, if you can call again. Um. There is something I need to tell you.

"But it's not urgent."

"Can you tell me now? I can hold these people off for another few minutes." The sudden, tight worry is audible in his voice.

"It's not urgent," Jeremiah echoes his own words weakly.

"And I -- I meant to support you this time around."

"Yeah well..." Very lost for words. Finally, tiny voice. "...now I'm going to worry." He sounds very sheepish.

"It's alright. I'm alright, really.

"It's just -- I might need more brain fluid. Sooner or later. As I said, it's not urgent."

Nod. "We'll get it for you. In Malta.

"The guy who has the fluid -- who did the thing to you -- he's here.

"I'm not going to leave till I've got it."

"Okay."

And again, "okay.

"Just -- stay safe."

"I will. I want to now.

"It's different.

"Better."

Smile. "I miss you, Jeremiah."

"I miss you too."