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Assistant: Title: Remember Again (and again and again)
        Author: AmberishRose AmberishRose 
        Chapter: 2/4 
        Summary: Its been days since Scar has heard back from the man he had been very quickly falling head over heels for. Grian has lost count of how many lives he's loved Scar for.
        Contents: Chapter 2
    

    


      
        
          Hello! just a brief trigger warning for a bit of suicidal ideation towards the end of this chapter. Take care of yourself lovelies <3
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    It had been a week since Scar had gotten a proper night's rest. He had already been feeling it when he trudged out of the police station four days prior after Officer Leman, Skizz, he'd said to call him, gave him his number and sent Scar on his way. The officer had said to reach out if he thought of anything else that might help or if he just wanted to talk. The card with his number was still crammed into the same spot in Scar's wallet, untouched as the bags under his eyes grew deeper.Nothing made sense anymore. Grian was gone and he'd left behind so many questions Scar craved the answers to but hadn’t the first clue how to get them. He had spent a couple days searching the internet for any information he could get on the Watchers, and why Grian would have their symbol tattooed on his body. Was it a joke or dare from a friend back in his college days? What if it was something he had been dragged into and escaped? Or was he just waiting to mention it to Scar, when they had grown closer and Scar was too in love to see the red flags waving. The tornado of questions tore through his thoughts, erasing all semblance of order.Most of what he had found online were rumors of the religion’s culty-er tendencies, probably over exaggerated by people trying to get their own slice of virtual fame. There were a few scholastic articles he skimmed but most everything he could find was old, nothing from the past several decades. After several hours he decided to abandon the computer and digital search, instead walking the several blocks to the library to search periodicals there. Still though, there wasn't much. Only mentions here and there. Whoever the watchers were they kept to themselves and out of the public eye it seemed.He lost count of how many hours he spent combing through the stacks, eventually though he found one study on fringe religions containing an interview with a supposed follower of the Watchers. He flipped the few pages to the transcription of the interview, ignoring the rest of the preamble.
   Interviewer (I)   : Thank you for your willingness to speak with me today. First of all, are you comfortable disclosing your name if I publish this study? 
  Watcher (W):  *hums* I suppose so. I have nothing to hide after all. That’s why I'm here is it not? 
  I:   Yes it is. Can you introduce yourself then, for the recording? 
   W:   I am called Xelqua by my brothers. But you can call me Grian. 
Scar nearly tore the paper as his grip tightened. He wanted to believe it was a coincidence but somehow he knew that couldn't be the truth. This study was near eighty years old. Maybe it was someone related to his Grian, a grandparent or other relative. Grian could easily be a family name passed onto him, the man never talked much about his family and maybe this was why. Maybe they were all part of the Watchers but Grian had left. That had to be why he never talked about his family or the weird cult they were a part of.Scar took a deep breath before he continued reading.
   I:    Okay Grian, and how did you come to join the Watchers? 
  W:  You could say I was born into it, in a way. 
  I:  And you've never thought to leave? 
  W:  Why would I want to? 
  I:  They don't have the best reputation do they? We have dozens of statements from former victims of the Watchers and their own experiences. 
  W:  Its as you said, they were 'victims'. I'm not a victim. I know what the Watchers ask of me as Their acolyte and I know what I receive in return. Just because some can not see what the Watchers do for us does not mean it doesn't happen. 
  I:  And what do the Watchers do for you? 
  W:  The Watchers have opened a path for me to find happiness. Connected me to my partner and keep us safe. I don't suffer because I'm loyal to Them. 
  I:   Are you loyal because you believe in Them? Or because you feel like you owe Them? 
   W:   I think this interview is done. 
…Scar almost missed the notification sound of a new text arriving on his phone when it chimed at the same time as the oven timer began to buzz.It had been nearly a full day since he'd found the interview in the library and he was now surrounded by plates of cookies and other various baked goods he'd made since getting home. He had slept maybe forty minutes since then, all in short little bursts between putting batches in the oven and starting the next one. He knew he needed to get a proper night's rest soon but every time he tried to sleep, he was haunted by nightmares. Each of them starring Grian. Each of them ending with Grian's death, following which Scar would shoot up, awake and hyperventilating and already moving to start a new batch of cookies or a new loaf of bread.No two nightmares were exactly the same, which made it worse, in a way. Each dream was a new horror he couldn't quite get used to. He had seen dozens of versions of Grian die in dozens of different ways. There was a knight Grian who pledged fealty to a Scar, a prince of some royal family, before falling in combat to an enemy blade. Grian and Scar had been farmers, working the field together until Scar had to watch him slowly deteriorate from the plague. Grian, dressed in flowing purple robes welcoming him into a temple only to choke on a ceremonial wine that had been poisoned. Scar lost him over and over again and could do nothing about it each time.So he baked and tried to keep his hands and mind busy. The steps were familiar, recipes he had made a dozen times over, so familiar it was as easy as breathing. Creaming the butter and sugars together with his favorite wooden spoon until his arm was aching, then pushing it further as he added each egg, one at a time. Measuring out the flour and spices then adding just the right amount of baking soda to get a perfect texture on the cookie and working it all together until it’s a proper dough. It wasn't something he needed to put much thought into but it didn't leave enough empty space in his mind for the nightmares to push back in.He used a towel to pull out the latest batch of cookies, a nice simple lemon that he planned to dip in some lavender icing to finish. Setting the tray above the last batch of his makeshift cooling rack he set the towel aside and glanced at his phone where it lay on the counter next to the open container of flour. Placing the lid on the jar he picked up the phone to read the new message waiting for him from an unsaved number.
  
     Wanted to let you know they finalized the autopsy. Ruling it an accident, said all signs point to sudden cardiac arrest. Sorry buddy. - Officer Skizz Leman 
  
The officer had also shared a link to an obituary website that listed details for the funeral arrangements, apparently being planned by his step-sister. He added ‘step sister’ to his growing mental list of things he didn’t know about Grian then shot a quick thanks and placed his phone down again, screen against the counter. He was pretty sure he should be feeling something right now. Relieved, maybe, to know that it wasn't a terrible murder where Grian had somehow been made to suffer at the hands of a religious cult he may or may not have been a part of? Except what if it  wasn't an accident? What if the Watchers were capable of making it look like one? From what little he had found. He knew they had been involved in some shady things in the past. Even if legally no deaths had ever been attributed to them it was highly suspected they had been involved in at least a few mysterious deaths. What if they had just gotten better at covering up their tracks?He knew he was falling towards the side of conspiracy theorists but something just felt off in his gut about the entire thing. There was something more to this. Grian had that tattoo for a reason, hadn't mentioned it to Scar for a reason. There had to be a reason for all of this because if there wasn't and the world was just that cruel to rip away the only person he'd ever foolishly imagined a real future with… he wasn’t quite sure he could handle that.He reached for another stick of butter.…It had been several years since he'd last been to a funeral. His nice suit was just a bit tight on him now, even without a tie and the top couple buttons left undone. It maybe wasn’t the most appropriate for the occasion, he didn't think Grian would mind though. On their fourth date, Scar had chosen a nicer restaurant that they had dressed up for. Grian had spent the night alternating between complaining about how uncomfortable his nice shoes were to wear and putting on a haughty affect as if he were an old aristocrat and making Scar laugh.  "I don't see what the point is in getting all fancy just for some more expensive food," He groaned as they walked into Scar's apartment, promptly kicking off the offending shoes and dropping himself onto the couch. "What you wear doesn't affect the flavor and you'd probably even enjoy it more in a pair of sweatpants that you weren't worried about staining with all the fancy sauces." 
   "Mmm but maybe I just really like seeing you all dressed up like this." Scar teased, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it by the door. "You looked really good tonight." 

   "I look really good every night." Grian huffed and Scar smiled. 

   "Yeah, you do." He loved the way Grian's face would just get the smallest hint of color as he refused to make eye contact. 

   Grian reached for him instead and Scar let himself be pulled down to the couch, nearly on top of Grian. "You look better without this silly tie though," He began to work at the knot to get it undone but just left the tie hanging loosely around his neck. Then Grian kissed him until they both were short on air and had to pull away, however briefly. 

   Scar smiled as their foreheads rested against each other. "Next time we skip the tie and the shoes then, hmm?" 
Scar never got his next time. There had been lunch dates and movie dates but Scar never got to take Grian anywhere else nice like that first time. Never got to see him all dressed up and wearing a pair of silly slippers like Scar hoped to one day do.  He wondered what they had Grian wearing, all laid out in his casket. He really hoped they didn't put him in those shoes.The sun was far too bright in the sky as he walked down the sidewalk to the bus stop that would take him to the cemetery on the edge of the city. It should have been cold or raining or something to reflect the misery Scar was feeling in his chest. He should have stayed home, shouldn't have subjected himself to this. He didn't want to go to Grian's funeral, didn't want the finality that would come with watching them lower him into the ground. Of forever being just some guy he went on some dates with,  not even important enough to be told directly of the funerary plans.Once on the bus he sat down and slumped in the uncomfortable seat, hoping this day will be quick. "You alright there fella?" The voice was loud beside him and he jumped in his seat. "Whoa, sorry its just- You don't look like you're doing too good." The blonde haired man beside him gave him a once over and frowned. Scar wanted to feel offended but truly didn't have it in him. He knew he looked rough. After days of little sleep the circles under his eyes were far too pronounced to be healthy. Combine that with the scruff he hadn't shaved off and his barely combed hair and he probably was a sight in his too small suit."Don't think its easy to be 'doing good' when you're on your way to a funeral." It was a bit rude, but Scar didn't care.Neither did the stranger next to him. "Oh, yeah that sucks alright." After a moment he added, "You also going to Grian's then?"For the first time, Scar began to pay proper attention to the man beside him. "You knew Grian?""Yeah, emphasis on the 'knew'. We were in university together way back. We were close then, hadn't heard from him in a while though. Then I saw…what happened. Figured I'd come pay my respects or whatever. How'd you know 'im?""Oh uh, he was- we were… dating." It wasn't a lie, not really. They had been going on dates, even if Grian hadn't been his boyfriend, Scar didn't have to admit that. He had decided people could draw their own conclusions, which it seemed like the blonde next to him was doing as Scar watched his face shift through a few different emotions."Right. That sucks man." Scar just snorted. "You're telling me." He made no attempt to keep the conversation going, not interested in awkward small talk. He just wanted to get through this funeral and go home and continue hiding from the world like he had been the past few days. Thankfully the man seemed to be able to take a hint and let the rest of the bus ride pass in relative silence.The funeral itself seemed to somehow drag on and blink by all at the same time. Scar wasn't sure he could repeat anything that had been said, mostly zoned out for the service as people he'd never met talked about who they knew Grian to be.  He stood in the back of the tent set up over the small plot prepared, the sun angled just enough to beat down on the back of his neck and leave him sweating through his undershirt. He was perhaps the most uncomfortable he had ever been.He hadn't cried when he watched the casket slowly be lowered into the ground.When it was all done, he wanted to leave, to wander off with everyone else, but he found himself rooted to the spot. The already small crowd thinned and soon it was just a few people milling about, talking or stepping up to the new grave, still an open hole in the ground. An uninvited thought floated its way through his mind, how easy it would be to let himself fall in and join him. He shut the thoughts down fast and turned to leave, to get as far away as possible. The only thing that stopped him was the man from the bus in his way. He nearly lost his balance trying not to run into him but managed to steady himself in time to decline the hand reached out to help. "Sorry, I just- I'm ready to leave. I didn't see you there.""Listen, mate, you wanna grab a drink with me? I want one and you look like you need one quite frankly." Scar could have laughed if he was capable of it at that moment. The last thing he wanted was to sit in a bar and talk to someone, even if maybe a drink didn't sound half bad right now. He was about to say as much when the man spoke again. "I'll pay for however many drinks you want, but there's something I think I need to talk to  you  about."He could feel the exhaustion creeping in his bones as he sighed. "I appreciate the offer but I really must-"He was cut off by the blonde. "I really think you should get a drink with me Scar."And that finally gave him pause. He tried to think back through their earlier conversation but couldn't seem to remember giving the man his name. He didn't know his name either, just some other person who once knew Grian. "I never told you my name. And I know no one else here so they wouldn't have told you my name.""I know." The man tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something. "Like I said, we should really talk. Not here though." He glanced around, and Scar wasn't sure if he was eying the stragglers from the funeral or the headstones around them. He was inclined to agree, this was no place to talk.Which is how he found himself in a small pub down the road, tucked away in a dim booth and a glass of some cider, wet with condensation in his hand. "So. You know my name, do I get to know yours?"The blonde across from him took a heavy sip from his own glass before responding. "The name is Martyn.""Okay Martyn, and why have you brought me here? And how did you know my name already? You haven’t explained that one yet."When Martyn spoke again after another large drink, it started out as a mumble "F@ck, okay, okay," Scar took a sip from his own glass, the cider flavorless on his tongue, just like everything had been over the last week. "This will sound a bit mental but just hear me out. So, my family, a lot of us anyways, we sometimes  hear  things.""Pretty sure most of the world can hear things.""Not like that," Martyn snapped before composing himself. "My Grandmother was a medium, and her father before her. Generations of my family have been able to hear… Well, most of them agree its ghosts and spirits."Scar could feel every muscle in his body stiffen. "Don't you dare tell me you can hear Grian." The words came out cold and the chill settled over the table for less than a second before Martyn was speaking again."No, I swear it isn't like that mate. I do hear things but far as I got Grian’s not one of them." Scar's shoulders relaxed only slightly with an exhale and his fingers dragged aimlessly through the condensation now beginning to puddle at the base of his drink. "Things have been… odd, since Grian's uh, departure.""You can say he's dead."Martyn's gaze was wary but Scar didn't meet it as he fiddled with his glass. "Right then. Yeah. Anyways, Usually the hearing thing is just sort of background noise? I'm not able to really understand or make out what it is. Not without seriously focusing in at least." He paused as if waiting for Scar to ask a question. He didn't so Martyn eventually continued. "Its been louder here lately and some words have come in with crystal clarity like they never have before. I didn't  really  notice it at first, I suppose it happened gradually enough, but when we met this morning, it was silent. The most its been in a week.""Should I be afraid to ask what they were saying?" Scar finally met Martyn's gaze, noticing immediately how uncomfortable the other man seemed in his seat."The voices, or spirits or whatever you want to call them, they had been saying the same thing all week. Until they picked back up after the bus at least.""Martyn, what were they saying that you felt was so important to talk to me about?""Before, it was a lot of 'where is he, we can not See him.' After though I heard something say 'The other is here but he is gone.'"Scar had no idea what that was supposed to mean. At least the second part made no sense. The first part didn't make much either but there was something nagging at him about it though. He could admit it was a bit of a reach, but reaching was all he could do and not being able to 'see' didn't feel insignificant. "Have you ever heard of the Watchers Martyn.This time it was Martyn's turn to tense, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why ask that Scar?"Scar just shrugged, noting the other man's defensive reaction. "Just… a hunch. The officer who talked to me about Grian told me he had a tattoo of Their symbol. Apparently it was behind his left ear and always covered by his hair so I never saw it."Just a hunch, eh?"“I've been trying to research but there are a lot of dead ends. Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask."Martyn sighed and finished off his own drink. "Right. Lets get into this then. The reason me and Grian lost contact was because we had a falling out. Because of the Watchers." And if that didn't get Scar's attention, nothing would. "He wanted- My grandmother had warned me about steering clear of them since I was old enough to move on my own. Never gave me a real reason why but I didn't question it really. I don't know how Grian got involved but I told him not to. He made some big deal about it, how he felt 'called' or whatever. I told him it was an evil cult that would get him killed but I guess he kept on with it."Scar was practically buzzing. "What if I told you I think it did? Get him killed that is.""Didn't the police say it was an accident?""I think they're wrong Martyn. And I'm going to prove it."… . … . … The thing about remembering your own past lives that no one could tell you, it tended to be overwhelming. Especially if you've barely lived any of your  current life. It had been hard to act like a 'normal' ten year old when he could remember being older, remember several other versions of himself that all fought to be the one he would eventually become.The worst thing about it though was that Grian knew, somewhere out there, Scar existed.He had been a young acolyte with the Watchers, roaming the land in a much more nomadic fashion, temples having gone out of use decades ago.  Thankfully . Those memories were some of the hardest to relive whenever they bubbled up to the surface. Much like usual though, he hadn't expected to run into another kid while on the road, one who sent a sea crashing over Grian when they met eyes. Turns out that much strain on a developing mind can cause a lot of damage if you're not careful. Grian had collapsed where he stood, luckily or unluckily he wasn't sure because when he finally came to, the other child was long gone.He had tried then, explaining the situation as he could understand it to his caretaker, the teacher he had been assigned to who would show him the ways of the Watcher acolytes. He knew he sounded deranged as he tried to tell them of his lives but needed them to understand. Needed them to turn back and find the group they had passed. Find  him. They had kept an eye on him after that, murmuring something about him hitting his head when he collapsed. It didn’t take him long to give up trying to get through to them. He knew they wouldn't believe him and he couldn't really blame them. Even still he did.He was fourteen when he ran away. He had been sick of the other Acolytes treating him as if he were crazy. Sick of being told what he was supposed to be doing when he had more knowledge and memories than any of them. He was sick of the Watchers. So he left, his journal and robes a neat pile for his caretakers to find.The only problem was he had no idea where to go. It had been years since Scar had passed by them and could be anywhere in the world. So he started with making money. Several lives worth of knowledge made building the necessary skills simple enough and there were enough ways to get money with odd jobs as he traveled around.He was 17 when the wars started, and 19 when joining the war became the easiest way to move across the land. It was easy enough to enlist for whichever army he first came across and not long before he established a niche for himself. Grian was small, even for his relatively young age, and remembered how to move silently and mostly unnoticed. It turned out to be quite convenient for picking off enemy archers, the sharpshooters that stayed far from the fray and took out a dozen men before anyone even knew where they were. It was where he was as he slipped the blade from the ch@nk in the archer's armor and lowered the now dead weight to the ground. He wiped the blade and re-checked the vicinity to be sure he had a moment before moving off to find the next archer. Sheathing the now clean knife he moved back to the body on the ground, set to check it over for any resources the ill-fated man might have taken with him.Grian was rifling through the handful of pouches on the archer when his helm shifted and the visor slid up. Grian felt the world falling out from under him as he recognized his eyes, even dull and lifeless as they were. His hands shook as he dropped down and carefully removed the helm to reveal the entirety of Scar's face.It was hard to fight through the memories of the last time he'd seen this. It had only been the once before and still it overwhelmed him as it shoved to the forefront of his vision. Distantly, he was aware he was breathing shallowly, struggling to tell if the intense heat was real or just the memory.  No.  He wasn't sure if his scream was aloud or not but it echoed just the same. He wanted to claw his eyes out, never wanted to see this sight in front of him.  You promised. Why would you let this happen? He’s supposed to be okay, that's what you said. Their words echoed back through his skull, the pressure of it felt like it was spitting his skull from the inside.  He may be yours. But you are Ours. Do not forget your loyalties. He wasn't sure he would have left Scar if he was fully aware of himself, but he found himself stumbling down from the hill they were on, his own armor half discarded. He was technically behind enemy lines, shuffling forward in a daze towards an army who wouldn't hesitate once they noticed the colors he wore signaling his own loyalties. He wasn't sure he minded. Anything had to be better than the wash of memories flooding over him. Everything crashing down as he lost his carefully crafted control. It wasn't all bad, but each happy memory was punctuated by another flash of dim flat green eyes.Eventually his legs gave out, collapsing under the guilt as it settled on his shoulders and tore its way towards his heart. He waited then, for the sharp cut of steel or anything else that was surely coming his way. He was ready, knowing that the burden would slip away soon.No release ever came.Eventually he had to move, leave the empty battlefield littered with bodies he couldn't look at for fear they'd morph into the one he couldn't bear to see. He moved on, never returning to the army. He wasn’t sure whether they counted him among the dead or as a deserter. He didn’t care either way. He had no other reasons to keep wandering as he had before and wasn't afraid of what would happen if they found him deserting. Instead he found himself a small house, isolated from any town or city and lived out the rest of his days. Grian lived seventeen more long lonely years. It was far more than he hoped, but in the end it went the same way as always. The void embraced him as he floated along to what came next, all the overwhelming memories bleeding out slowly before all he had left was a pair of shining green eyes.Until those are gone too.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          Ngl I was fighting for my life at some points trying to get this chapter written but! its here! and I'm only mildly sleep deprived (partially unrelated) but hopefully the rest of the chapters will go smoother (especially chapter four which is already 90% written even though I haven't  even started chapter three as of posting this)Hope you all are enjoying the ride so far and are looking forward to figuring out what exactly is going on with these two :DFeel free to chat with me on Tumblr @amberishrose (where I also should be posting a small sneak peek at the upcoming chapter on the Thursdays I don't update if all goes well) and of course comments and kudos are always appreciated <3'
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