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It was no secret that almost every Hermit had, well, a secret. The Server had relatively few rules, but one of those few rules was to not ask about the past of another Hermit.
They were friends, they trusted each other, they didn’t need to know where they’d come from or what they’d done. If they wanted to keep things a secret, if they wanted a chance to move on, to be safe, to start afresh, they were completely entitled to it. If they wanted to share part of their life, it was done on their terms. There were plenty of Hermits that did choose to share parts of their life.
But not Grian.
Never Grian.
He would take his past to his grave, whenever and wherever that happened to be.
It was fine. No one asked. Not in Season Six when he learned how to fly in a matter of episodes while Hermits like Mumbo continued to struggle. Not in Season Seven, when he would work for hours on end to provide the entire Server with sand and gravel, or when he created a mansion seemingly overnight. And not in Season Eight, when he settled in close proximity to some of his closest friends, closer than ever to Scar after the trauma of Third Life.
His past didn’t matter to him, and he knew that. Scar held him and loved him because he was him. Mumbo laughed with him because he was him. Pearl never spoke of the events that had transpired on Evo - neither of them had ever addressed what had happened after the Dragon fight from which he never returned - and she was friends with him because he was him. Impulse smiled with him because he was him. That was all Grian needed to be, he knew that, and for the most part that was fine. It was okay. Nothing else mattered, and he was never worried that suddenly something would matter.
Except, of course, when things began to change.
“Is the moon big?”
Mumbo’s question had been curious and tentative, as if afraid of the answer, and when Grian turned to look over Boatem to observe whatever his friend had seen that had provoked the question his heart stopped.
His heart stopped, and everything that he’d been holding inside for several Seasons threatened to spill out.
There was a sense of unease in his gut. The moon was indeed big. Bigger than normal. It made him feel horribly uncomfortable, horribly afraid, and he wanted to do something about it.
He wanted to hiss at the sight of it, wanted to arch his back like Jellie when she became particularly angry with a new feline addition to the settlement. He wanted to grit his teeth, to remove his elytra and spread his real wings. He wanted to stare at the moon with each of his eyes - not just the two his friends knew of - until his power was made clear and it was scared into submission.
But Grian could do none of those things without breaking his cover, and so he swallowed his tongue and replied.
“Oh… Is it?” He asked, before realising that pretending he didn’t know if it was bigger or not would probably leave more alarm bells ringing in Mumbo’s head. “Yes. That is considerably bigger.”
And from there, everything began to go wrong.
If they’d thought the moon was big then, they had no idea what the next few weeks would hold. The moon gradually increased in size, continuing on its approach toward Hermitcraft, and with it came more and more disturbances: the shaking of the ground; the floating of blocks and Hermits. Needless to say, everyone was afraid. People were trying to get to the bottom of what was going on through cults, through worship, through measurements. Others were building escapes from the continent or bunkers deep within the surface of the Server. None felt the same way that Grian did, though.
The more it progressed, the more Grian’s instincts wanted to take over. He was a Watcher, he could intervene, he could do something. But doing something would mean revealing himself, and revealing himself would almost certainly result in his banishment. The Hermits didn’t care for people’s pasts, but the Hermits hadn’t had a Watcher make their home amongst them. At least, they hadn’t knowingly done so.
He wouldn’t be welcome if he revealed himself, regardless of why he did, so he kept quiet.
He tried to avoid seeing the moon, stayed inside and slept the nights away. It became significantly harder when he joined the Mooners, but he focused his efforts on completing his alleyway as opposed to basking in the midnight light. The twitch was still there, the knot in his stomach and the tension in his shoulders, but he could keep the worst of it at bay.
Grian saw the concern in people’s eyes, he could see that people saw something was wrong in him, but there was something wrong in everyone. It helped, somehow, to keep people from asking unwanted questions.
It was never going to last forever, and he should have known the clock ticking down to the inevitable end of it all had started long before anyone had noticed the increasing size of the moon.
When the time came, he wasn’t ready. He hadn’t said his goodbyes, he hadn’t packed his things, he hadn’t told Scar how much he loved him or Mumbo how proud he was of his building and terraforming. He hadn’t told Impulse how impressive his factory was, or Pearl how happy he was to have finally seen her again. When the time came, he didn’t know it.
The five were gathered in Boatem, staring up at the sky as they often did, this time watching a flaming, fiery ball of rock headed straight for them.
It made sense, Grian supposed, that if the moon’s gravity was causing blocks to float away from the Server, the moon itself would start to break apart and come hurtling toward the ground. It was one thing to think of that in theory, though, and another entirely to watch as that exact lump of rock accelerated through the atmosphere. Tiny fragments burnt up, heating the air around Boatem and causing the sky to turn a haunting, ominous orange. His friends were fearing for their lives, he was fearing for his own, and any impulse control he had managed to feign up until that point suddenly flew out of the window.
If he didn’t act now, they would die.
He would take his secret to his grave, but not to Pearl, Mumbo, Scar, and Impulse’s.
As his friends screamed and shouted, yelling their goodbyes as if they could be heard over the winds and the sonic blast, Grian focused. He focused every little bit of energy he had inside of him, focused everything he had repressed over the years…
… And everything exploded.
The world, for a brief moment, was blindingly bright. A white light encapsulated everything, leaving his friends stumbling backward and covering their faces as Grian’s power was concentrated. He let out a shout as it left him, rusty and out of practice, before his entire form crumbled forward and everything was dark.
There was no more rock hurtling toward Hermitcraft, but there was no more moon in the sky either.
And there was no more Grian in Boatem, there was only Xelqua.
Xelqua, no longer in their Human disguise, a dark shadowy figure with a wingspan to make even False’s eagle jealous. The mask hid their face, the robes providing them with a form that the Hermits would be able to recognise as Humanoid, even with two dozen eyes - bright purple and blinking in perfect unison - stared back at them. It would do little to conceal their identity, though, as they knew damn well that the four residents of Boatem knew where they stood. In the place of Grian. In the place of their friend, who they had trusted, who they would no longer trust.
Even if Xelqua wanted to return to their Human disguise, they were incapable of doing so. Their energy had been well and truly sapped after using the powers that had lain dormant for so long, and now the fear of the consequences of their actions caught up to them. Fear that they would be hunted down and killed by those they loved at best, and cast aside or thrown out into the Void and returned to the Watchers at worst.
Their wings ruffled, feathers unhappily shifting, folding back until they sat closed against their spine. Xelqua turned to face the Hermits, preparing themselves for the worst.
It wasn’t enough preparation for what they saw.
The fear on Mumbo’s face, the betrayal on Scar’s. The horror on Pearl and Impulse’s. They’d all heard stories of the Watchers before, they’d likely had nightmares of coming face to face with one. Xelqua was certain that not a single one of their friends would have ever imagined anything like this.
“Grian?”
Scar was the first to speak, his voice a whisper, and the name felt like a punch in Xelqua’s gut. Grian was gone, Grian could never truly return - even if the Human disguise did, this could never be undone - and they were afraid.
“G, you’re…” Mumbo began.
“... A Watcher?” Impulse finished.
Pearl said nothing, and that hurt Xelqua most of all. They thought that of everyone standing before them, she would understand. She would have expected it. She would have known.
They couldn’t tell how the group looked at them, but as tense, silent seconds passed, the fear seemed to be giving way to anger. To hatred. And Xelqua understood their reaction completely. They understood as hands reached for the hilts of swords, they understood as golden apples were consumed, and before anything else could be said or done they turned around and jumped into the dark sky. Xelqua began to flap their wings, carrying themselves away from the ground, and flew.
Flew far, and fast, without looking back.
Xelqua knew they could never look back if they wanted to live. The only sound as they flew was the flapping of wings beating harshly and desperately against the cold night air, the wind rushing past their ears deafeningly loud as they travelled with speed. They needed to get away, to hide, to buy as much time for themselves as they could.
The familiar land of Boatem gave way to the ocean, the wind became colder, and the ocean became snow. The flat, snowy plains became towering, tall mountains, and Xelqua decided they would be as good of a place as any to stop running and fix things. The fact that they would be cast out from this group one way or another was unavoidable, they accepted that, but they had to fix what had been done before they could go. They had to alter the code once more, restoring the moon to its normal form, before they were found or before Xisuma reinforced whatever safeguards he had in place to ensure he was the only one that could do anything.
On the cold, steep pillar that Xelqua had landed on, that meant focusing all their energy on the moon. It meant blocking out their fear, the cold, the feeling in their gut telling them to run further.
The Hermits knew they had a Watcher on their Server now, but they couldn’t think about that.
So Xelqua took in a breath - though breathing wasn’t exactly a necessity for any Watcher - and they began to use what little strength they had left to undo the damage they had caused. And as soon as that was done, as soon as the satellite was restored and shone down faintly over the Server, they curled in on themselves.
The first time using their powers in years, twice in such quick succession, as well as the emotional drain of revealing themselves to the people they loved, had left Xelqua utterly exhausted. The need to run was still there, still twisting and turning in their stomach, something that resembled a leg unable to stop moving as anxiety flowed through their form. But they were too tired to do anything to fulfil the desire to flee, and so all they could do was bring their wings around their body and hope.
Hope that they wouldn’t be found before they awoke.
Hope that they wouldn’t be sent back to the Watchers in their sleep.
Hope that if they were to be killed, they would be awoken and given a chance to say goodbye.
Maybe if they survived long enough to rest, they could conceal themselves once more. Maybe Grian could return, and he could convince his neighbours that they had simply been so sleep deprived that they had collectively hallucinated a Watcher in his place. The moon was back to normal now, and Xelqua had no reason to appear again.
Maybe they’d buy it.
Maybe.
# # #
Scar was many things. Confused, dumbfounded, perplexed, and confused once more. He was also incredibly worried, still staring at the night sky as people moved into action around him. He heard shouts of Grian’s name as the Watcher that had taken his place took off, flying North as quickly as it could, and he heard someone (Mumbo, maybe?) saying they would call Xisuma. He heard someone (was it Pearl this time?) say they should have known. He felt someone (Impulse, he thought) press a hand to his shoulder and try to shake him out of his silent state.
“Scar?”
“Scar, are you okay?”
“Dude? Can you-- Can he hear us right now?”
And he could - he could hear them - but he was too shocked to respond to any of their voices. His silence was understood, though, and before he knew it he felt himself being pushed toward his home, forced to sit on his bed and covered with blankets, handed a warm cup of tea, and given a purring Jellie.
It took longer than he would have liked to have come out of his daze, long enough that the tea was cold by the time he eventually had the strength to bring the mug to his mouth, but he eventually did.
Impulse was sitting opposite him, a strained smile on his face.
“Back with us?” He asked, and Scar nodded.
“How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours. Not much has happened. Mumbo called Xisuma, Pearl’s beating herself up about the whole thing but I think X has it covered, and the moon came back. I’m on Scar duty, which I think has been the easiest job of the night.”
Scar recognised the light heartedness to Impulse’s tone, and he smiled a little at that. It was meant as a joke, or a jest, and he could respond appropriately even if his mind was still travelling at a thousand miles an hour.
“Grian…”
“Yeah.” Impulse said, pausing a moment to ring his bottom lip through his teeth. “I thought you might want to talk about that.”
“He… Watcher?”
“He Watcher.” Impulse nodded, repeating Scar’s stumbled words exactly to try and keep the tone light even if the subject of the conversation was anything but. “He transformed in front of us, did something to the moon that meant the rock didn’t hit us all and kill us, and then disappeared. The moon’s back - X said he didn’t do it so I’m assuming that’s Grian’s work, wherever he’s gone.”
Of everything that Impulse said, it was the last line that hit Scar the most.
Wherever he’s gone.
People didn’t know where Grian was.
It wasn’t to say that, if he was standing in front of him right now, Scar would have the foggiest idea of what to say. He’d been told of Watcher’s growing up - the evil villains in the fairytales his parents read him, except they were real - and to think that there was one on the Server struck nothing but fear through his chest, but this was Grian. And Grian wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t unkind. Sure, he might prank people now and again, and he’d certainly died as a result of those pranks plenty of times, but Grian wasn’t anything like a Watcher was meant to be. Scar would have permanently died if he was, time and time again. He would have been tortured to within an inch of his life, manipulated and made to dance like a puppet for Grian’s entertainment.
Grian was kind. He was a hard worker, he did everything he could to help his friends out or to make people smile. He built beautiful things, brought the community together. He made Scar happy. He loved Scar.
Grian wasn’t evil, but Watcher’s were.
Grian was a Watcher.
His mind couldn’t wrap itself around that concept.
“Still with us?” Impulse asked, and Scar nodded. “Grian is… He’s still Grian, you know that right?” He nodded again. “Xisuma wouldn’t have let Grian on the Server if he intended on doing any harm, and he hasn’t done any harm. Heck, all he’s done tonight is protect us and reveal something incredibly personal by accident. I know I don’t know how I feel about it yet, I’m sure you’re having a harder time than the rest of us are, but all I can do is tell myself again and again that Grian is still Grian, and this doesn’t change the person we know.”
And that, of course, made so much sense. Grian was still Grian, and he’d always been Grian, but there was still something in the back of his mind that left Scar afraid. He supposed that explained why Impulse acknowledged he would be having a harder time with trying to understand it all - their relationship was Boatem’s worst kept secret.
Just because they were in a relationship didn’t mean Grian owed him anything like that. If he wanted to keep his past to himself he was completely entitled to it - Scar would never ask that of him - but now it was laid out for him to see he was scared. He was terrified. He felt guilty for being so afraid but he knew damn well that Pearl, Mumbo, Impulse and even Xisuma would be feeling the same way.
But those thoughts and feelings wouldn’t be resolved unless he spoke to Grian, and if Grian had vanished there was no way to speak to him. They had to find him, even if it was just to ensure he was safe.
Void, if they were afraid of the revelation that their best friend and neighbour was one of the cruellest beings known to any living Player, how was Grian going to be feeling?
“Can we find him?” Scar asked, and Impulse nodded.
“That’s the plan. He went North, but we don’t know if he turned around at any point. He dropped his communicator when he transformed which doesn’t help all that much with tracking him down but Xisuma should be able to locate any abnormalities within the code and that will at least point us in the right direction. Once Pearl is feeling more like herself we can split up and cover as much ground as possible to find him before…”
Nothing else needed to be said, Scar knew exactly what that meant. Before something happened.
With a final few sips of cold tea, and a last few scratches of Jellie’s head, Scar got to his feet and returned to the site of the incident with Impulse close behind. As Impulse had mentioned, Pearl was indeed looking worse for wear. Scar tried not to listen to her conversation with Xisuma, but it was difficult not to pick up on the few whispers the wind carried in his direction: something about a previous Server, where they’d known each other before Hermitcraft.
It only gave Scar more questions he knew it wasn’t his place to ask, and he tried his best to block out whatever he could. Finding Grian’s communicator still lying on the ground, Scar played with the buttons. They were worn from use, some more than others, and Scar used that to keep his mind focused on Grian the person rather than Grian the Watcher. If he could do that, then it would be easier to deal with this.
Some minutes later, after Scar had been thoroughly distracted, Xisuma approached the three with a slightly more composed Pearl at his side. Scar wouldn’t ask about the tear tracks on her cheeks or the bloodshot eyes, but he cast a gentle, reassuring, non-judgemental smile her way. Something that told her if she ever needed to talk, he’d be there to lend an ear.
“Alright, we need to find Grian.” Xisuma said, and Scar was grateful in that moment to have an Admin who sounded as confident and sure of himself as Xisuma - even if he was certain that he was just as clueless as the rest of them. This was hardly a situation anyone would anticipate. “My readings show that he’s kept going North, but I can’t pinpoint exactly where. We’ll split up, cover more ground that way, but it also means if we find him he should see one of us as less of a threat. He’s probably scared, and as much as you want to run up to him and check that he’s alright I’m going to suggest approaching slowly, talking through everything you do, and not doing anything sudden or unannounced. He might be more powerful than we first thought and we need to be careful while he’s on edge, but he’s still our friend and we need him to know that. If anyone finds him, message the rest. We can reconvene here rather than descend upon him and risk frightening or overwhelming him more.”
Scar nodded along. It all made sense, but it saddened him too. They would be treating Grian as if he were a wild animal - hurt, helpless, and afraid - even with the explicit reminder that he was their friend.
He was conflicted, walking a tightrope of two different opinions that pulled him back and forth. Grian was their friend, they shouldn’t have to approach him like they were walking on eggshells and make him think that they hated him, but this was a Watcher they were dealing with now. Grian could be pushed to the side, their reaction could be deadly if they made the wrong move.
Everything felt wrong, and his stomach churned uncomfortably.
Nothing would feel right until Grian was home and safe, until they had talked, and until they had time to piece things together in their own minds.
None of this was going to be nice.
Still, with no further comments, the five took to the skies: rockets were fired and elytra guided them across the ocean. The group splintered off as they reached a new continent, Scar remaining steadfastly straight while Xisuma and Mumbo peeled left, and Impulse and Pearl went right. Remembering not to do anything that could startle Grian, Scar elected to glide instead of using his rockets as much as possible, and he kept his eyes focused on the ground below him. He had no idea if he was on the lookout for a bright red jumper or twenty four purple eyes and dark black wings, but either should stand out against the snow.
Scar hated the number of mobs he saw as he flew, though as night slowly began to turn to day that number became less and less as monsters stopped spawning and those that already existed were set alight by the sun’s rays. As much as searching for Grian would be easier without the hindrance of skeletons or zombies, it was a painful reminder that time was passing and Grian was still out in the snow.
He came to land atop a tall mountain, taking a moment to catch his breath and take a golden carrot from his inventory, as well as check his communicator to see if anyone else had reported finding Grian on their journey. No such luck, he found, and he sat himself down for a brief rest.
“Where are you, Grian?” He asked aloud, not expecting any response, but still filled with disappointment when all that filled his ears was a bitterly cold wind.
They’d find him eventually, and everything would be okay, but those thoughts weren’t enough for Scar to smile as he jumped from the edge of the peak and let his elytra take him further across the mountainous terrain as the sun gradually rose in the sky. With day now fully broken, the chill became almost more apparent than it had been in the night. He hoped that Grian had found someplace safe to say - a small cave with a campfire, a village he could have used a bed in. Even if those things would make it harder to find him, it would mean that he hadn’t been left to face the elements alone.
Of course, that thought would never come to fruition, as Scar spotted a strangely large dark patch on the horizon. It was too dark to be a shadow, and too big to be a spider. Without the purple eyes staring back at him it was hard to know for certain, but Scar was positive he’d found Grian.
Still in his Watcher form, which of course wasn’t ideal, but at least he’d found him.
Scar landed as best as he could on the summit of the mountain, his feet crunching against fresh snow as he stumbled, and he grimaced. Was that too much of a noise? Would that startle Grian? Was he in trouble?
When nothing happened, he took out his communicator and sent a message to the rest of the search party.
[From ‘Scar’ to ‘Xisuma’, ‘Pearl’, ‘Impulse’, ‘Mumbo’] I found him. I think hes sleeping. I’ll try to talk to him and bring him home.
With that he pocketed the device, not wanting his focus to be on anything but Grian, and he tried to descend the mountain to get to a place where he could approach his partner from. He’d been almost nested on the edge of a cliff, he’d have to skirt around the edge of a very long drop (and if he didn’t have his elytra already on his back, Scar would have seen that as an almost certain respawn), but Scar wasn’t going to give up on Grian just because he was in a hard to reach spot.
He did, however, pause when he reached the narrow pathway to try and get Grian’s attention from there.
The moment he saw the Watcher, he was terrified. Everything in his body told him to run, told him that this creature was an almost demonic being that would want nothing but for him to perish in a drawn out and painful manner. It was hard to believe they were Grian, his Grian, and so Scar let himself have a moment. He let himself take a breath, and get used to standing in close proximity to his worst nightmare, and adjust to the fact that this Watcher might not kill him.
They still might - he wasn’t entirely sure how much control Grian had over this form - but he might be okay.
“Should I… Should I call you Grian?” Scar asked aloud, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Or do you go by a different name in this form?”
His words were met with silence, and the opening of twelve eyes. Their stare was piercing, and if looks could kill Scar swore he would have burst into flames on the spot. The Watcher seemed annoyed, but given what Scar had heard from Xisuma and the others he thought that as more of a defence mechanism than anything else, so he held up his hands.
“See, empty.” Scar said. “I have nothing. I can’t hurt you, and I won’t. I know you’re Grian, under all that scariness. No one wants to hurt you, we want to bring you home.” The rest of the eyes opened at that and the Watcher moved swiftly backward, almost falling off the edge of the cliff. As small rocks crumbled, Scar took a quick step forward, reaching out with a hand, but caught himself before he got any closer.
He couldn’t scare Grian - Watcher or Human - any more than he already had.
“Home, to Boatem.” Scar said. “No one’s going to do anything, or force you to speak, we just want to know you’re safe. I assume if you’ve looked like Grian all the time I’ve known you that you’ve got some level of control over what you look like so if you don’t want us to see you like this we won’t disturb you until you’re back to being Grian. We just want to know that you’re safe.”
The eyes blinked at him, the Watcher unspeaking, and Scar took a step back. He didn’t want to do anything wrong, not when Grian was at stake. He couldn’t lose his Grian.
“Xelqua.”
It took everything in him not to wince at the voice that spoke. The Watcher. Not Grian. But somehow, still Grian. Everything was tangled and muddled in Scar’s head, and he hated it.
“My name is Xelqua.”
“Alright, Xelqua.” Scar said, and suddenly the Watcher before him felt like a stranger once again. “How can I help you?”
The blinking continued, as if the Watcher - Xelqua - was just as confused as he.
“Help?” They asked, and Scar nodded, feigning enthusiasm as if it would bring Grian back any easier.
“Yes, help! So, you’re Xelqua when you look like this, but you’re Grian when you look Human, and just because you look different and have a different name doesn’t mean you aren’t still the same person. You’re still Grian, still our friend, still my partner: we’re still going to keep you safe, and make sure you feel safe.” He explained. “No one’s going to hurt you, no one’s going to send you away, we just want to look after you.”
Xelqua said nothing, and Scar said nothing in return. He let them ponder on the words that had been said until the Watcher came up with a response.
“I don’t have to go back?”
Even without context, Scar’s heart shattered. Xelqua may have stood before him, but Grian was almost more obvious than ever. The pain in his voice, the fear… Scar knew he shouldn’t ask questions, but he wanted to know what had happened to him. Watchers weren’t known for being afraid, weren’t known for wanting to not go back, and he couldn’t shake the awful thoughts of what must have been done to turn him this way.
“You don’t have to go back.” Scar nodded, his voice quiet and his smile gentle. “Whether you want to look like Xelqua or Grian, you never have to leave Hermitcraft. This is your home, no matter what you are and no matter what life you lived in the past.”
“But, I lied…” And as Xelqua spoke, Scar saw the mass of darkness and dozens of eyes starting to fade away. The jet black figure was replaced with a messy red jumper, with hair that looked like Grian had been dragged backward through bushes by zombies all night and eyes full to the brim with tears.
The wings, though, didn't disappear. The eyes were no longer visible, but the black feathers were still there. They suited Grian much more than an elytra did - Scar decided - and it made sense to him that Grian had been such a natural at flying now.
“We’ve all lied, then.” Scar shrugged. “No one has to talk about their past here, you know that G.” He reassured. “Even if you were a Watcher, even if you still are, you’re Grian, and you’re good. And people might be scared at first, I can’t lie and pretend I’m not.” Grian’s immediate wince told him that was the wrong thing to say, but he continued on anyway in the hope that he could fix it. “But that’s just because it’s new. Everyone’s scared of new things, and everyone’s scared of Watchers, but I think with time everyone that knows will realise that you’re Grian, our Grian, and you’re nothing like any of the stories.”
Grian sniffled, and Scar placed one foot on the precarious edge between himself and Grian.
“Can I?”
“Absolutely not.” Grian said, taking several steps toward Scar instead. “You falling to your death will ruin the moment. I want a hug, I don’t want to pick up all your belongings.”
As he spoke, Grian shimmied his way across the rocky outcrop, and Scar watched him with a sad smile on his face. He knew that he was trying to make light of things to hide his emotions, but it didn’t quite mask the sadness in his voice or the hurt in his eyes. And when Scar felt two arms wrapping tightly around him, a face pressing firmly against his chest and sobs escaping the lips pressed against his waistcoat, all he could do was hold back even tighter.
“You never have to tell me anything.” Scar reassured, bending his knees slowly to lower the pair back to the ground. “You never have to tell any of us anything. We’ll all listen, I promise we will, but whatever happened you don’t have to relive it. I don’t want you to go through that pain ever again.” He whispered, finding tears come to his own eyes as Grian’s sobs grew louder.
“They stole me.” He hiccuped, and Scar took in a shaky breath. Okay, so he was listening. He could listen, even if it broke him to hear how much the person he loved had gone through. “They took me from my friends, threatened to burn the Server and destroy them if I didn’t go. I had no choice, and they made me like them. They made me like them and they broke their promise, and I thought all of my friends were dead and gone. When I saw Pearl had joined us…” Grian wept against him, his words now lost to his tears, and Scar suddenly understood why Pearl was blaming this on herself, why she had been so much more upset.
“You’re safe.” Scar said. “You’re safe. You’re here with us, and no one will ever take you away again.”
“I thought… I thought… I-I-” Grian struggled to speak, but he persevered. “I thought the moon was revenge, t-their way of saying they knew.”
“Then we can tell Xisuma.” Scar told him. “He can look into the code, make sure that if it was them they can’t touch you.”
“Xisuma…?”
“He knows.” Scar said. “He helped us find you. He’ll want you to feel safe, just as much as the rest of us. Pearl, Mumbo, Impulse… All we want is for you to feel safe.”
Scar felt the hands behind him shift, balling up the fabric of his coat into tight fists as more sobs left Grian, and all he could do was rub small circles below his wings.
“Do you want to head home, or do you want to stay here a little while longer?”
“Here.” He heard muttered, and Scar nodded. He wouldn’t rush Grian now, or ever. Besides, part of him was incredibly glad that he got to just sit here and hold him for a while longer. It meant Grian didn’t see the anger on his face, the murderous look behind his eyes that said if any Watcher so much as thought of Grian ever again, he’d personally pull them apart limb from limb. He pressed a kiss against the scruffy hair of the smaller man in his hold, closing his eyes and letting himself breathe.
Grian was okay, he was safe now, and Scar needed to remember that just as much as Grian did.
# # #
By the time the duo returned to Boatem, Grian felt as if he were more exhausted than when he left. Sure, he appeared Human once more, but there was still a sense of dread in his stomach as he saw Pearl, Mumbo, Impulse and Xisuma awaiting their return. Scar had convinced him time and time again that he wouldn’t be punished for who he was, but until he spoke to them himself he wouldn’t really be able to believe that.
So when they landed and Pearl sprinted toward him, the smaller practically tackling him to the ground and enveloping him in her arms as she sobbed, Grian finally felt as if those words were true.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered against his shoulder, a muffled cry leaving her lips as apologies continued to flow from her, over and over again. It was enough for more tears to come to Grian’s eyes, but he couldn’t quite muster up the energy to cry again. “If I knew what they’d done to you--”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It should have been me!”
“It shouldn’t have been anyone.”
“It shouldn’t have been you.”
Grian held Pearl closer, tighter, and took in a breath. She was real, and she was safe, and that was what he’d agreed to go for, wasn’t it? To keep his friends safe? It might have changed him fundamentally, it might have scarred him for life, but it had kept her and so many others safe.
“No one outside of us knows.” Xisuma said, interrupting their quiet moment with slightly more helpful and less emotive words. “I’m not going to tell anyone, neither will the rest of Boatem. Your past is still your past, it’s still yours to decide whether or not you want to reveal. When you’re feeling more up to it, come see me. We can see if there’s anything I can do to help make things here feel safer, or if there’s anything I can do to help you conceal your identity or to tell other Hermits - depending which path you feel more comfortable going down. I’ll leave you with your friends, but you know I’m always here to talk to. I’m not just a scary Admin.” Xisuma reminded him, a warm hand pressing against Grian’s shoulder, and he nodded.
As Xisuma left, Mumbo and Impulse approached. The fear in their eyes was certainly obvious, but there was no apprehension in the way they moved toward him. They were afraid for him, not because of him, and that surely counted for something, right?
“I might… I might think twice about blowing you up with an end crystal now.” Mumbo said, letting out a laugh, and Grian grinned.
“Only twice?”
“And I’m very glad I’m dumping my toxic waste into Mumbo’s utopia.”
Grian, Pearl and Scar laughed as Mumbo’s brain took a moment to catch up to what Impulse had said.
“Hang on, toxic waste?”
“Anyway, Watchers get free candy from iDimpy, gotta go!” Impulse joked, turning on his heels as if to run while Mumbo took a spyglass from his inventory to look for the waste that Impulse had mentioned just moments ago. The rest of the group just smiled, with Scar settling beside Grian and wrapping an arm around him, and Pearl wiping one of her eyes. Things were okay. He still had his friends, and now he had to hide less of himself, and everything--
“Aha!” Mumbo announced, Impulse and Grian bursting into fits of laughter. “I can-- What are you-- Oh, I said it didn’t I?”
“You are not starting that in Boatem.” Pearl said sternly.
“You’re right, who would make my spy glasses?” Mumbo lamented, and as Scar went to raise a hand Pearl quickly lowered it for him.
“Absolutely not.” She replied, Scar poking his tongue out at her playfully.
Grian smiled. Everything was going to be okay.