Brain Jar, Masks-A-Lot

So there was a bunch of yelling in a corridor Jeremiah couldn't see (ha!)

And then Jeremiah was like "DON'T LET MARTIN KNOW IT'S ME"?

including Martin being like "Jeremiah! Christ, let go of me, he's right there!" And then Jeremiah was like "ACK DON'T LET MARTIN KNOW IT'S ME" in Thai, which is a language he taught Martin bits of and Martin started laughing from the corridor and was like "Jeremiah, you taught me Thai!" and then he was like "Ow, Jesus Christ, stop biting me, AAAH!" and then there was some yelling and some shooting and a little while later Martin wheeled all of Jeremiah's machinary into a corner and sat down. His arm is bandaged. He's laughing a lot, also crying.

"Jeremiah..."

He's just going to be laughing and crying in front of you if you don't say something.

You hear a mid-pitched quiet sound that is Jeremiah's unhappy-but-doesn't-know-what-to-do noise. Altered somewhat by the fact that it's coming out of speakers.

"Hey, uh...I'm okay. I'm really okay." "I'm just glad you're alive. If in slightly altered state."

More noise.

"Hey are you -- okay, I'm guessing you're not okay. What's wrong?"

(notably, no one else is listening now. Everyone else has gathered around Savitree and Ravee and is gabbling at them in Thai)

(Okay!)

"Is... is your arm okay?"

"It hurts. But it'll heal." He's still smiling uncontrollably. He's really glad to see you.

"...have you been eating? And sleeping? We have some food around but you forget sometimes with your books and and -- " Garbled unhappy noise.

Shrug. The smile gets a little crooked. "They've been taking care of me." Gesturing at the rest of the party, which is gabbling in Thai.

(It's Joyce, a 30-something aviatrix whom you know, a tiny young woman with pale skin and dark hair who introduced herself hastily as "Lillian" earlier and an overweight 40-something Italian wearing an ill-fitting and clearly borrowed bathrobe)

Unhappy noise becomes slightly dubious noise.

(Jegus, describing all emotions via voice instead of body language is new and interesting!)

"You look... tired."

"I am."

Martin laughs a little and rubs his eyes.

"Getting to obscure Siamese Islands isn't...isn't the easiest thing I've done."

For the first time, he looks a little haunted, though he's still smiling.

"What have you done? Where have you been? What has happened?"

Pause.

"...I -- "

Martin waits for the "...I--" to continue. He's good at getting Jeremiah to babble.

Insert several moments that would normally involve Jeremiah flailing his arms.

d'aww

[I maintain that writing emotions without any body language is hard! >_<]

(it is!)

"It's good to see you again."

Pause.

His breath is coming quickly, even though it's clearly emotional since -- well, no lungs.

"I missed you."

Another pause, and then his voice is rawer. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

"I'm sorry you can't say the same."

"Is this the part where you tell me I have to leave you and find happiness elsewhere because you're currently missing a body?"

"I've read that story before, Jeremiah. I've read every story before." He crosses his legs and folds his arms and actually lounges. "And I'm no pretty pretty princess. I'm not actually part of that story."

"You're alive. That's all that matters. And if science can find a way to take your brain out of your body, surely science can find a way to put the brain back in."

Slowly, "I died, Martin."

"No you didn't. You're alive."

"You're not dead."

"You're not gone."

A pause, and this is where Jeremiah would reach for Martin, if he had a body.

Martin stands, and comes closer to Jeremiah instead.

He's kneeling in front of where Jeremiah can see, smiling at him with his mouth and his eyes. "You're not gone."

"No. I am not."

"But ghosts are not alive."

"You've got a brain. And we'll find a body."

"Martin."

"If I -- "

"If you -- "

"If you can't -- "

" -- would you let me go? If I asked you to?"

Martin looks like he's been struck. Eyes haunted a moment. Then blank, grey grey. And he bites his lip so hard it bleeds.

"Yes,"

When he says it, he sounds like a child.

"I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you."

"I don't want you to leave me!" The words are out in a rush, before Martin can stop them.

"But I'm -- I'm -- "

"You're Jeremiah! You're the only person I've ever loved! And you're here, in some form at least -- you haven't gone away!"

"I'm a prison, an anchor, and I can't drag you down."

"I love you. I love you, but I'm not real like this."

"And I can't -- can't anything."

"You are. You can be." Martin lurches back and starts pacing. "You're not gone. I can't live without you. You know what I did this year, until Joyce and the others found me? I tried to kill myself, Jeremiah. I started drinking again. I started sleeping with Samuel. I started taking the drugs -- the drugs, their drugs. Nectar. I wanted to destroy myself, Jeremiah -- I'm not, I'm not strong -- "

Sustained unhappy sound.

"You did what?"

"You -- why -- no no no Martin, don't -- "

"It's -- it's bad -- "

(Consider this background noise to Martin's rant.)

And he's crying again, without any noise, wiping his face roughly with his elbow. "And here I am manipulating you again, trying to get you to stay. I'm sorry. I'm not even a very good..." He slams his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. It works.

"Yeah. Nectar. It's bad."

"It's...how I ended up on the save the world gig, kind of."

"But it's not -- it wasn't the smartest thing I've done."

Louder sustained unhappy sounds.

Martin looks like he wants to throw his arms around Jeremiah, then realizes that he can't throw his arms around several different canisters. It's frustrating.

Slightly different unhappy sound.

Jeremiah noticed Martin's aborted movements.

"Martin. I -- I don't want to leave."

"But I want you to be happy."

"I don't want you to leave." Martin's sat down again, crumpling his legs beneath him. "So we'll find you a body, and find a way to get you into it. Science is apparently -- " He gestures to the canisters with some relief "--a lot more advanced than we knew."

"And if that doesn't work..." His face is white, "I'll let you go. For real this time. I'll do it, if you want. I just need...a little more time..."

He nods, more encouragement to himself than anyone else.

Soft as a whisper. "Martin."

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I could see you. I haven't been happier since -- since -- the change."

Martin's face breaks into a smile. There's something terribly relieved, terribly fragile about him.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I don't want you to be hurt ever again, by yourself or anyone else."

"And you could have anything if only you believed you deserved it."

"As I do. As I have always -- always believed that you deserve the world and I want to give it to you."

"I don't think I can do that anymore. Not -- like this."

"But -- I want to stay with you until you find -- someone else."

The words come out even more grated than normal.

Martin takes a few deep breaths. He looks like he's going to start crying again, but then doesn't.

"I'd like that."

"If you -- if you stayed."

"I've missed you."

He avoids reaching out to hug Jeremiah.

"I love you."

"I love you." The words are out of his mouth before Jeremiah's even finished speaking.

Martin smiles wanly. Controls his face.

"Right. I have to ask you logistical questions."

"Which totally aren't agonizing or angsty. At all."

He laughs a little.

"Where do you want to...stay? I mean, now that we've found you. We've got a plane and we can take you with us everywhere, but, well, you're fragile equipment. And we're on some kind of saving the world quest. Well, except me. I'm on a finding-you-a-body quest. With a side of saving the world quest, since the people we're saving the world from seem to have all the relevant books."

He smiles. "We can take you with us, though. Or I guess put you back in the New York apartment. I haven't managed to lose that yet. Or we have a doctor in Maryland who knows all the relevant stuff -- about -- monsters and brains in jars and things. He used to be questing with us, but now he's running an insane asylum for people who get cracked by this."

"Wherever you want to go. -- that you can take me, I guess."

"...I would very much like to have a body again."

"......and for the world not to be destroyed."

"Yeah. Well, we're...working on it." Slightly crooked smile.

-- -- --

[Please interject stuff in between Darla's sentences/paragraphs. She's unlikely to do a long unbroken monologue like this; I'm just putting it this way because I don't want the conversation to go on for weeks of exchange.]

"Martin," Darla says, "I've been thinking.

"You said there was this guy--'Sir Masks-a-lot', you called him, who wore a mask when he was near the Mouth.

"I think--I think you may have tried to bribe the wrong person. Lowman was scared, sure, but he's ignorant--and an addict.

"But 'Masks-a-Lot' isn't a cultist. He can't be.

"He wears a mask to stop himself from taking--becoming addicted to--nectar. The cultists worship the Liar, and take Nectar out of worship. Therefore, if he's not a nectar addict, he's not a cultist. We need to talk to him."

Martin will agree that they need to talk to Sir Mask-A-Lot, but he's clearly very distracted (boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend in a jar).