#war veteran turned scam artist falls in love with cardboard cutout of someone willing to sass him: more at 9

[jayflying]

And why is Martyn... Like That? (No Stranger Curses AU)

[Part 1] (Part 2: "Spiraling in unreality.") [Part 3]

The first thing Martyn realizes is that he's not dead. This is a horrifying premise, considering the last thing he remembers doing was blowing himself up on purpose.

The second thing he realizes is that he remembers. In the first game, he had remembered nothing. In the second game, he'd remembered the first, but the memories were sparse and hazy. This time, though? He remembers everything.

He remembers how he met with BigB. He remembers how they found the games. He remembers how it felt to wake up without remembering anything at all. He remembers forsaking the morals he had once fought so hard to rebuild, and making an enemy of the friend he had come here to find. He remembers building, and learning, and loving, and lying, and fighting, and dying, and waking back up to do it all over again.

Is he about to do it all over again? Where is he, anyway?

A quick scan of his surroundings informs him, a hill. A closer look clarifies, a hill in the middle of a forest. He finds this significantly less helpful than he was anticipating. A search of his inventory leaves his hands buzzing with magic but doesn't turn up anything useful either.

The communicator strapped to his belt chimes all too cheerfully. Welcome to Double Life, its notification declares, and his heart sinks.

It takes Martyn two minutes to read the rules presented to him in their entirety, twenty seconds to process the implications, and three hours to realize that something about this new game is wrong.

Maybe he's just being paranoid. Maybe it's just his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe his fear has him chasing shadows.

But the afternoon sun has no warmth. Animals behave like they barely notice him. The wind through the trees sounds more like static– in fact, nothing sounds quite right. His surroundings seem to waver whenever he looks away. And when he finally runs into other people, only some of them seem to recognize something is off.

(None of them seem to hear it. The blank lack of recognition in their eyes makes his heartbeat stutter with a sudden panic. He doesn't mention his concerns again.) Either his senses are failing him, he's losing his mind, or not all of this is actually real. Maybe even some combination of all three. He decides on the spot that, as much as the thought of isolation still hurts, still makes a tight knot out of something deep in his chest, he'd rather be having this imminent mental breakdown as far away from other people as possible.

(Something in his mind screams at him desperately, no, no, no, why are you leaving, you'll never see them again– and yet he grits his teeth and keeps moving forward. For all he knows, they could still all be ghosts. He can't bring himself to check.)

Pearl's inability to take a hint is her own damn fault. He remembers now, so why doesn't she? Why doesn't she know him well enough to recognize how his excuses ring hollow? Going to the Nether, in the first week— screw that! What rational reason would he have to actually want that? And yet, even without remembering him, she looks him in the lie and follows him regardless. Well now he has to commit to his own stupidity.

(They talk as they go. She describes the soulbond as a heartbeat in time with her own, a comforting background noise in her head. Martyn doesn't feel it. Which is fine. He doesn't need anyone else in his head.)

…Cleo. His bond is to Cleo. The heartbeat thing really should've been a hint. He presents his efforts to her and is resoundingly rejected. Her words cut straight to the heart, and his face burns. There is so much venom in her words, in her posture… but there's nothing in her eyes. No emotion at all. (Maybe he's just being paranoid.)

The more he looks for it, the more he finds it. While some of them seem to be real, others have that hollow gaze, and with it, other things that aren't quite right. None of those empty stares seem to fear death. None of them seem to remember. Oh, they speak and smile and act well enough, but that's all it is. Acting. He refuses to fall for a trick he's already mastered. He can just keep his distance. He won't fall for this.

Cleo backs down, even if only in secret. She doesn't apologize as much as she traces the outline of an apology and leaves him to read between the lines. He knows for a fact that's the best he would ever get from her, even if any of this was actually real.

He shouldn't care about her approval. It shouldn't bring him as much relief, as much hope, as much happiness as it does. It makes him angry to feel his own heart soar at such a little thing. His pride knows he's better than this! He can't be chasing shadows. He can't be falling for an echo, a specter, a lie.

It takes three months for his patience, his sanity, his willingness to play along with this delusion, to snap. He's not quite sure what does it. Maybe it's the fact Cleo finally apologizes to his face for the way she rejected him. Maybe it's because he knows she would never do that. His chest feels tight with the turmoil of it all. His whole body shudders with every beat of his heart, and for a moment, he wonders if the thing pretending to be Cleo can feel the way he shakes.

Martyn pushes her, and there is no remorse. He watches her fall as he tries something he hasn't attempted since the end of the Southlands. He prays for salvation. To whatever might be listening. To whoever might be there.

(In his defense, he would've tried it earlier if he'd known it was going to work this time.)