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a little reunion (for Gwen)
December 2, 2025
Martin's glasses fog up the moment he steps inside Ahab's, and he clicks his tongue as he slips them off, waiting for them to clear. His hair is a little damp, and the wet floor squeaks beneath his shoes. Ordinarily he would've liked to go straight home from work on a day like today, to enjoy the fresh snowfall from the comfort of his flat, but this is a special occasion, worth the mild discomfort.
He blinks around the crowded shop, seeking a familiar face, a little apprehensive as to whether or not he'll be familiar to her. John had said her memory of Darrow is returning, and she'd seemed to know him when he'd texted her, but he's braced for things to be a little different.
The whole thing seems a little harrowing to him. To go home and then come back changed, memories filling back in piecemeal. He's heard of it happening before, but hasn't really had to rekindle any friendships within that framework until now. The idea makes him nervous somehow, for a lot of reasons he hasn't been keen to poke at too closely.
But Gwenny's worth it.
Though he supposes the nickname probably better suited her when she was a little younger. Sure enough, the familiar young woman his eyes finally settle on looks much more like a Gwen than a Gwenny. Still a kid, but older, more composed. Maybe more tired, if he's not imagining it.
He steps over, lifting a hand in greeting and smiling softly. "Gwen?" he says, hesitating, not willing to sit until he can gauge her reaction to him.
Martin's glasses fog up the moment he steps inside Ahab's, and he clicks his tongue as he slips them off, waiting for them to clear. His hair is a little damp, and the wet floor squeaks beneath his shoes. Ordinarily he would've liked to go straight home from work on a day like today, to enjoy the fresh snowfall from the comfort of his flat, but this is a special occasion, worth the mild discomfort.
He blinks around the crowded shop, seeking a familiar face, a little apprehensive as to whether or not he'll be familiar to her. John had said her memory of Darrow is returning, and she'd seemed to know him when he'd texted her, but he's braced for things to be a little different.
The whole thing seems a little harrowing to him. To go home and then come back changed, memories filling back in piecemeal. He's heard of it happening before, but hasn't really had to rekindle any friendships within that framework until now. The idea makes him nervous somehow, for a lot of reasons he hasn't been keen to poke at too closely.
But Gwenny's worth it.
Though he supposes the nickname probably better suited her when she was a little younger. Sure enough, the familiar young woman his eyes finally settle on looks much more like a Gwen than a Gwenny. Still a kid, but older, more composed. Maybe more tired, if he's not imagining it.
He steps over, lifting a hand in greeting and smiling softly. "Gwen?" he says, hesitating, not willing to sit until he can gauge her reaction to him.
no subject
But the details are fuzzy. Really fucking fuzzy. She doesn't remember how they'd met, only that they'd known each other. So she's sitting with a paper cup of cocoa, her fingers laced on the tabletop. Her jacket is still on, because she'd still been chilly when she sat down, and when he says her name, she looks up.
She knows that face. It's a relief to feel fondness flood her when she sees him, and she moves to stand.
"Martin," she says, breaking into a smile. She moves for a hug, arms lifting — and for a heartbeat, she sees a pocketknife in her hand, John towering over her as she stabs forward, and the memory of John cursing her fills in, completes, and Gwen gasps, shaking her hand — which aggravates the bruises and stitches, and she instead hugs her arm close.
"Shit. Oh my god. N-no, you're okay, right?"