Chapter Text
The immediate days after the truce talks felt like the calm before the storm. Legundo was still in temporary house arrest, though only in theory. He still had to go out to check up on Abolish and Avid, and to tend to his herb garden. No one seemed to mind, as long as he stayed far from the town exits.
He wondered how long it would take until people realized the futility of the punishment. Nothing stopped Owen or the rest of the vampires from going to speak to him. Sure, no vampire other than Shelby had showed up in town yet, and even they had only been looking to grab some odd statue from their old house, and avoided talking to Drift or Pearl, the only ones who tried to strike up conversation. But it could still happen. One of them could waltz all the way into Legundo’s Clinic, in fact, it was more likely that they’d do that than he’d go to the Castle. He was not going to risk that bridge again if he could help it. It had already proved to be a trap waiting to happen.
Still, things were calm. Silent, in the way a pot about to boil over was silent. Legundo kept his eye and ears open, knowing the moment his attention faltered, it would bubble over and spill into a horrible disaster.
Abolish was healing as expected. He’d proved to be quite the stubborn patient, though at least he didn’t sneak out of town in the middle of the night, unlike Avid. Avid was, well. A patient for sure, but not a patient one. The injuries Owen had gifted him had healed well enough he wasn’t at risk of reopening them, but Legundo still wished he wouldn’t go running around as much as he did. He didn’t even have that many things to do.
Ever since the truce, any and all beacon conversion had stopped, split as evenly as they could. The vampires kept the beacons by the Obelisk and the Crypt, alongside the castle one, and the humans had the remaining ones. It left the town devoid of their weekly excursions, and some people were struggling to figure out what to do with their free time. Others, though, found it a relief. Sausage had holed himself up to write and had to be dragged out by Ren and Martyn a day and a half later with half a notebook filled with a terrible sounding first draft. Cleo had finished building a proper farming area, no longer trapped in a silent battle with Owen over buried silver. Apo had designed new town walls, more sturdy and less, well, flammable.
And Legundo had had time to indulge some side projects, instead of solely focusing on the cure for Apo and Cleo. He’d been revising Avid’s notes, cross referencing with what he’d learnt with Scott, not yet brewing anything. And in the moments he got tired of deciphering Avid’s chicken scratch, or when remorse started eating at him, he’d switch to working scraps of leather into a useful shape.
It took him about two weeks to finish that project. One evening, he left the house with it on one of his pockets, and started the search for Martyn.
It was as sunny as it ever got in Oakhurst. He could see Pearl, Drift and Sausage chatting by the town’s exit, probably planning a trip or something of the like. Cleo and Abolish were having an argument by the cow pen, and Legundo decided he didn’t want to get involved.
He knocked on Martyn’s door, and received no answer. Sighing, he tried again, and received the same results. The curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t really tell whether Martyn was out, or ignoring everyone on purpose.
“He’s at Ren’s.” A voice spoke behind Legundo.
Legundo almost jumped. He turned to face Apo, a hand over his chest. She looked tired, and probably hungry. As usual. Cleo had mentioned having to fight her about it.
“Apo, hi.” He said, offering a smile. “Good to see you out of the house.”
Apo shrugged. “Cleo told me that either I made myself useful around town, or they’d set my house on fire.” That… checked out as something Cleo would say. “So I’ve been going to gather some more stone for the town walls, we keep running out.”
“I’d offer my help, but, well…” Legundo said, vaguely gesturing towards his own house.
Apo glanced at it, and grimaced. Had they forgotten about the whole house arrest thing? Cleo hadn’t. Was Cleo the only one upholding it? “How’s the research going?”
“Well enough.” Legundo said, and while it was technically the truth, it felt like a lie. “I’ve got some ideas drafted, but I’d like you to revise them before I go through brewing anything. Just in case.”
“I don’t know much about medicine.” Apo said. “But if it speeds things up, I’ll look at them. Want me to walk you to Ren’s so that no one accuses you of anything?
“That’d be very much appreciated.” Legundo said.
They walked out of town together, and though he felt observed, no one said a thing. Someone had started to construct a proper path to Ren’s cabin, leaving piles of pulled out grass by the edges of it. It looked halfway through completion, and the shovels used were impaled on the ground at the point where people probably gotten tired and decided to continue another day.
From the inside of Ren’s house, he could hear laughter. Ren’s, loud and clear, as Martyn probably said something with the hopes of getting the man to look at him with adoration. One of these days Martyn would realize he already did.
Legundo hesitated, not wanting to break the moment. Apo didn’t. They knocked without hesitation, and stepped back to let Legundo be the first one to be seen.
After a moment, Ren opened the door. “Miss Apo! And Doctor Legundo. What do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, smile broad. Whatever Martyn had been saying must’ve really lifted his spirits, he hadn’t even hesitated at Legs’ presence. Or maybe he had started to forgive him for the whole betrayal thing.
“I was searching for Martyn.” Legundo said. “If I may?”
Ren opened the door wider. “Yes, yes, of course. What about ye, Miss Apo?”
“Just accompanying him.” They said. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
She left before either men could say anything about it, turning on her heal and marching away as if afraid of getting burnt. Ren sighed, heavy and tiredly. He shook his head, and stepped back into his cabin.
“Come on in.” He said, as Legundo followed him. “Martyn! Ye got a visitor!”
Martyn was sitting upside down on Ren’s sofa, balancing his cane on the back of his hand. At Ren’s voice, he looked up–or was it down for him?–and dropped the cane. It clattered loudly on the ground.
“I’ll put the kettle on.” Ren said.
“Hey, doc.” Martyn said, before twisting his body and flopping onto his side. “What can I help you with?”
“I’ve got something that might make walking easier.” Legundo said, digging through his many pockets. In which one had he put it?
Martyn sat up normally, or as normally as he was able of sitting. “If this is about my cane’s handle–” said handle was uncomfortable and awkward. Legundo wasn’t sure why Martyn insisted on not changing it.
“No, no.” Legundo said. “I’ve made you a leg brace.” Ah, there it was. In the last pocket he looked through, of course. “I hope I have gotten the measurements properly.”
Martyn tilted his head. “I thought I was done wearing bandages, you said it was healed already.”
Legundo made a so so gesture with his hand. “As healed as it is, braces that redistribute weight can help reduce pain. If you’d like, I can teach you how to put it on.”
Martyn grabbed the brace and examined the buckles. “Does it go over my clothes or…?”
“Theoretically, it works better under them.” Legundo said. “But I’ve also had past patients who disliked the feel of metal and leather on the skin, so if you’d like, I could sew you an under sleeve. Your pants as of now might be a bit too wide to wear over them, though.”
“The price of fashion, I suppose.” Martyn joked. He’d been wearing the same pants since the begging of their stay. Maybe Legundo should bring up the lack of general clothes in the next town meeting.
Ren poked his head out of his kitchen. “Mister Legundo, how do you take yer tea?”
Legundo never took tea. Still, he figured a bit of sugar wouldn’t hurt the taste. “Two sugars, please.”
Ren nodded. “A man of taste, don’t cha know?”
“Hey, Ren, I’m gonna take my pants off.” Martyn warned him, before the other man could go back into the kitchen.
“What?” Ren asked, but Martyn was already undoing his belt.
“Medical reasons.” Legundo said, too tired to explain. “Don’t worry about it.”
Ren opened his mouth to protest, closed it, opened it again, reconsidered it, shook his head and returned to his kitchen and his kettle. Good for him.
Trouser-less now, Martyn examined the brace. “Ok, which side is up and which side goes down.”
“Here, let me.” Legundo said, taking it from his hands. He undid the buckles, and placed it over Martyn’s stretched out knee. “Like this, this side over here that’s marked goes up. Adjust the straps so that it’s tight, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation. The effects won’t be instantaneous, so I advice you keep your cane at hand.” He adjusted the straps. “Is this too tight?”
Martyn tried bending his leg a few times. “Feels fine.” He said. “And I just gotta wear it all the time?”
“I recommend taking it off whenever you go to sleep.” Legundo said. “Wash it once a week, too.”
Martyn stood, and took a few steps, pacing in a circle. “Feels the same to me.”
Legundo rose to his feet as well. His own knees were hurting, but that was an inevitable fact of life. “I said it would take a while for you to notice.” He said. “I’ve got to go now, unless you’ve got more questions.”
“You’re not staying for tea?” Ren asked, re-entering the living room with a tray of cups.
“I’d hate to impose–” Legundo started.
“None-sense.” Ren cut him off, setting the table. “I’ve already went through all the trouble to make you a drink, the least ye can do is enjoy it, don’t cha know?”
Martyn was already grabbing his cup, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of sugar into it, to the point it worried Legundo slightly. “Ren’s very particular about being a good host, just let him.” He said.
He was about to sit, when Ren cleared his throat. “Trousers, Mr Woodhurst.”
Martyn blushed, seemingly realizing his current state of undress. “Right, of course.” He set his cup down and went back to grab them.
Legundo chuckled. “I suppose I could stay for a while…” He conceded, sitting down at the table.
The tea was nice. More bitter than he expected. He understood why Martyn had shoveled so much sugar into it, now.
He ended up staying for far longer than he’d expected. The conversation, though awkward at first, had somehow devolved into old tales of their past misadventures. Ren had a lot of tales of odd places and even odder people. It explained why he’d been so unfazed at the beginning of Oakhurst for sure. Then, once the tea had been drunk and the anecdotes had faded, Martyn had procured a deck of cards out of somewhere, and taught them how to play one maddening game Legundo absolutely hated. He was sure Martyn had been cheating, somehow, the odds did not add up. After a few rounds, Sausage and Pearl joined them, and Legundo chose to teach them a different game, one he hadn’t played since the trenches.
He won half of the rounds. Sadly, Martyn was a fast learner when it came to card games. Pearl wasn’t that bad, either. Thankfully, they hadn’t been betting money. Not that they had much use for it, in Oakhurst. People just shared what they had or exchanged favours.
He walked with Martyn back to town, in comfortable silence. Sausage was spending the night, and Pearl had insisted on helping Ren tidy up–she had been, after all, the one to raid his kitchen in the middle of a round.
“Do you think I should invite Sausage to live with me?” Martyn asked, halfway through the path. He was barely using the cane, which was a good sign.
“It would stop him from writing himself into an early grave.” Legundo said.
Martyn nodded. “Yeah, that too.” He said. “I was mostly thinking he must be lonely. Me and Ren chose to live alone, but Sausage wanted a roommate. But, Owen, well… not exactly roommate material, if you ask me.”
“Your house is quite small, though.” Legundo said. “Perhaps you should move in, not the other way around.”
Martyn made a face. “And steal Owen’s old bedroom? No thanks.”
“He never did use it, if it’s any incentive.” Legundo said.
Martyn opened his mouth to speak, but by then they’d reached the town entrance, and he got interrupted by its mayor.
“Martyn. Legs.” She greeted. Oh oh. Legundo didn’t like the look in her face. “Do any of you know the meaning of house arrest?”
Martyn groaned, throwing his head back. “Come on, the Doc was supervised at all times.” He complained. “No vampires present except Apo, and they’re cool.”
“I was delivering something to Martyn.” Legundo explained. “Then I got distracted. I apologize if you were searching for me.”
Cleo sighed. “Whatever.” They said, turning away. “It’s not like you can conspire much more than you have.”
Legundo kept his face calm, and voice steady. “I’ll be going to sleep now.” He said, hoping the abrupt retreat wasn’t interpreted as running away. “Any issue you have with the brace, you let me know.” He told Martyn. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
Martyn nodded, though he was still staring at Cleo, who stared back. Like a pair of dogs waiting to see which one would growl first. Legundo left before any of them started a fight.
He went home, grabbed his notes and started planning for a first attempt at a cure that didn’t cause as much pain.
He didn’t see Martyn for another three days. He’d cleared Abolish as mostly, if not completely, healed, and continued monitoring Avid’s injuries. The scratches Owen had caused were little else than pinkish scars, but the rest… Avid had provided a list of past treatments, and Legundo was stumped at how many doctors had failed to treat it. Not that he was having much luck either.
His first attempt at a potion with Apo didn’t end up with her puking, thankfully. But it also had very little effect, at least immediately. They’d agreed to continue it for a week before either upping the dose or changing the recipe completely.
And Sausage had asked him for a similar brace, but for his wrist. Apparently, all that writing left him with painful cramps. In Legundo’s opinion, those would’ve never started to occur if he rested, instead of writing for hours straight. But what did Legundo know? He was only a doctor.
So when the knock came to his door by Sausage’s hand, Legundo expected it to be a case of impatient writing needs.
“The brace isn’t done.” He said, a hint of tiredness slipping into his voice even if he tried his best to avoid it.
“It’s Martyn.” Sausage said. “He stayed the night at my place, and today he woke up and he couldn’t walk and–”
Legundo sighed. “I’ll be right there.” He said, cutting Sausage off before he spiraled into worrying too much. “Let me grab my coat.”
Sausage almost dragged him to his house in his hurry. He and Legundo found Martyn, in Sausage’s room, lying on the floor.
“Martyn!” Sausage hissed. “I told you to stay put!”
Martyn took a shuddering breath as his friend helped him sit up. “And whenever do I do what you ask me?” He tried to joke, but the wince in the middle of the sentence ruined it. “Ah, hello doc. I’ll give you three guesses as to what is wrong with me today.”
Legundo sighed. “Your leg?” He guessed, correctly it seemed by the way Martyn was avoiding moving it as Sausage placed him back in the bed.
Martyn sat up in the bed, making a face as Sausage fussed with the pillows. “Yeah, it’s, eh, it’s feeling like someone is stabbing me from the inside out there.”
“I told you not to over do it with the brace.” Legundo said, sitting on the bed as well. “Please tell me you haven’t been running around the woods like before.”
“I haven’t.” Martyn lied.
“We ran away from Pyro yesterday because he started trying to imitate Owen’s monologues.” Sausage snitched. “It was just a short sprint back to town, for fun. And before that we’d been walking for a bit, but nothing too strenuous.”
Legundo sighed. “Not too strenuous for you, perhaps, but Martyn’s body is clearly complaining about it.”
“Martyn’s body is right here.” Martyn snapped. “You said the brace would help with the pain. It certainly doesn’t feel like that.”
“It’s not a magical cure, Martyn.” Legundo chastised. “Sausage, can you wet some cloths? The cold might help with the pain.”
The writer nodded, and left the room. Legundo rolled up his pants, just to check Martyn’s knee wasn’t bruised somehow. No, all looked clear. Just slightly inflamed, which was expected.
“Right, well, I can make you something for the pain, but all you can really do is give your body some rest.” He said, rolling the pant sleeve down again.
“I had plans today.” Martyn said.
“You’ll have to postpone them, I’m afraid.” Legundo said. “And be far more careful in the future. You cannot–”
“Yes, yes, spare the lecture.” Martyn cut him off, rolling his eyes. “I have to be a good little boy and not run, not walk, not do anything at all because my stupid body cannot handle shit.”
“Martyn–” Legundo tried.
Martyn waved him off. “Just forget it.” He said, and the bitterness Legundo had missed before was far too present to ignore. “Just get me one of your stews and leave me here to rot, why don’t you?”
Legundo sighed. “I’ll be back.” He said. “This conversation isn’t over.”
By the time he returned, with a bowl that should, hopefully, dull the pain, he found Cleo moping by the door. They looked like they wanted to knock on the door and go inside, but their pride was prohibiting it. When Legundo approached, they fixed their face, wiping off that vaguely infantile pout, in favour of a more neutral expression.
“Hello,” Legundo said. “Where you looking for Martyn?”
Cleo shrugged. “Just wondering where he went.” She said, as if it didn’t really matter. “He was going to help me shear the sheep since some of them are scared of me, but he’s not at his place or Ren’s. And Sausage hasn’t invited me, so I can’t check if he’s here, either.”
“He’s inside.” Legundo confirmed. “I don’t think he’ll be able of helping you with the sheep, though. His leg’s acting up.”
Cleo groaned. “Wonderful. Now I’ll have to see if Abolish is around.”
“I’ve seen Drift, earlier, you could ask her.” Legundo offered.
Cleo shook their head. “Drift’s far too nice to the sheep. You gotta manhandle them, or else you don’t get anything done.”
Legundo snorted. “True.” He conceded. “Best of luck, then.”
“Right. Thanks.” Cleo said. She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but cut herself off. “Tell Martyn not to be an idiot and rest, will you?” She said instead.
“I’ll deliver the message.” Legundo said, as he opened the door to Sausage’s house.
He went up the stairs and into the bedroom. Martyn was, thankfully, still where he’d left him. He knocked on the open door, and received little more than a glance before Martyn went back to staring at the ceiling..
“Here you go.” Legundo said, offering the bowl.
Martyn sighed, but took it. He took a sip, and made a face. “This tastes bile.”
Legundo sat by his side. “I’m still trying to find a way to improve the taste without losing the painkilling effects.”
“Yeah, I–” Martyn grimmaced. “I can see that. God–must I eat it all?”
“It’s what I’d recommend.” Legundo said. He looked around. “Where’s Sausage?”
Martyn shrugged, forcing another spoonful into his mouth. After making himself swallow, he said, “told him I wanted some quiet for a bit, so he left to go continue Ren’s path.”
Legundo nodded. “Do you want to talk about before?”
Martyn shot him a look as he struggled to keep the stew down. Legundo really had to work on the taste. “Do I get a choice?”
“Of course you do.” Legundo said. “We can talk about something else. Cleo sends their regards. She says not to be an idiot, or something along those lines.”
Martyn rolled his eyes. “Of course she does.” He said, with a bitterness that could not be attributed to his meal.
Legundo hesitated. “I was under the impression you two were close?”
“Yeah.” Martyn said. “We were. It’s complicated.” He forced another spoonful down. “I’d rather talk about literally anything else, no offense.”
“Anything else?” Legundo prodded.
“Watch it.” Martyn warned him.
Legundo snorted. “Alright, alright.” He leaned back on the bed slightly. “Do you want to see something fun?”
Martyn hesitated. “…sure?” He said, before shoving another spoonful into his mouth.
Legundo waited until he swallowed. Then, he turned slightly away, as to not cause too much disgust, and pulled out his glass eye. Closing his now empty eye socket, he held it up to the light for Martyn to see–Martyn, who was looking slightly paler.
“When–” He started.
“YOU’VE BEEN HALF BLIND THIS ENTIRE TIME?!” Martyn screamed, interrupting him.
Legundo blinked. “Yes.”
“Oh my god.” Martyn said, putting the half eaten bowl of stew to groan into his own hands. “I can’t believe– I’ve been making jokes about you being clumsy like a fucking asshole–”
“You have?” Legundo asked.
Martyn uncovered his face slightly. He was blushing. “…maybe? Like, that one time you tripped and fell in a crypt–”
“Ah, yes, I remember.” That had hurt. “It’s been a while, but I still struggle to tell the distance of things at times. Doorways are my biggest enemy.” Well. Second biggest enemy. At least until Goldsmith was out of his life completely.
“…can you put it back on?” Martyn asked. “Or at least stop showing it to me, it’s freaking me out.”
Legundo shrugged. “Sure.” He turned away to pop it back into place. “So, anyways, when I was about your age, I lost an eye, as you’ve probably seen.” More than an eye, but Martyn didn’t need to know that. “You don’t want to know the amount of mugs I broke in the first years after that. And the migraines and neck cramps.”
“Neck cramps?” Martyn asked.
“Turns out, people tend to unconsciously tilt their head so that the remaining eye can be closer to the centre.” Legundo said. “It’s a hard habit to stop. Even harder to notice, sometimes.”
“Damn.” Martyn said. “That must suck.”
“It does.” Legundo admitted. “But you learn to live with it.”
Martyn picked up the stew again. “Is this your best attempt at a motivational speech, doc?”
“Not particularly.” Legundo said. “It’s more of an attempt at relating.”
Martyn hummed. There was a comfortable silence as he finished the stew and handed the bowl back.
“I’m just… frustrated.” He admitted, slowly as if getting the words out was physically hard. Legundo waited, letting him speak. “I’m not angry at you, or Sausage, or, well, saying anybody would be lying.” He snorted, and Legs couldn’t help but mirror it. “But all I can think is how unfair it is. Why did I have to be the one with permanent injuries? Everyone else was fine, after the fight. Heck, the castle’s biggest loss was their flooring! And here I am, weeks after the fact, in pain from a little run in the forest. And it’s my fault for not knowing any better, instead of Scott’s–” He groaned, cutting himself off. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not your fault.” Legundo said. “You’re still learning how to navigate this new set of rules. Mistakes are bound to happen.” He stood, patting his shoulder. “Lend yourself some grace, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” Martyn complained.
Legundo chuckled. “Sure.” He said. “Do you want me to fetch Sausage or Ren or Apo? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind keeping you company for a while.”
Martyn sighed. “Sure, why not? Tell them to bring my deck of cards.”
“Will do.” Legundo said, as he left the room.
Just as he left Sausage’s house–managing not to hit the edge of the doorway–, a voice came from his blind side, and he almost dropped the empty bowl. He turned, sharply, and his reaction seemed to have spooked Cleo as much as they had spooked him.
“Oh. Hi.” Legundo said, heartbeat slowing down again.
“…hi.” Cleo said, slightly off-put. “How is he?”
“The painkillers should be starting to do their job now.” Legundo said. “Emotion-wise, well. Could be worse. I’m going to tell Ren, Apo and Sausage to keep him company, you could probably join them if you want.”
Cleo made a face. “No, I really ought to shear the sheep.” They said, turning to look away. “Someone’s gotta do the work around here, you know?”
“I suppose.” Legundo said, because he didn’t really know at all. “I’ll see you later.”
Cleo nodded, turned on their heel and walked away.
Legundo sighed. Some other time, he told himself. He’d fix that some other time. He’d better follow his own advice and not overwork himself.