Chapter Text
Beneath the feet of our mother
Lies water that’s full of life,
And sleeping deep under the surface
Is something that’s burning bright.
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Perhaps the sounds of creaking stone should have clued the three into what was about to happen. But, well, it’s a bit hard to focus when you’ve got killer worms on your tail.
This is the most exercise Martin’s gotten in the past ten years or so, and his noodle legs are certainly not enjoying it.
In Martin’s mind, the only things he’s thinking are Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god, and Dear God, if you’re listening please don’t let me die. Not much room for Wait, the floor shouldn’t be making that noise.
Tim is in front of him by a few paces, and Jon is wheezing close behind him. This deep in the tunnels, there’s no worms to be seen, but none of them are willing to stop yet.
Until a faint shudder echoes from in front of them. A deep rumble, and then a screeching sound, like a knife on a porcelain plate. The earth beneath the trio’s feet begins to shake and crack, like it’s about to break open and swallow them whole.
It’s Tim that stops first. Martin nearly crashes straight into him, and Jon actually does. “Guys,” his voice echoes through the eerie tunnels. “I don’t think the floor should be making that noise.” Ah. At least someone was thinking it.
”Wh-hat?” Jon gasps out. And then the ground collapses from under them.
——————————
“I spy with my little eye: something black.”
“Ha ha Tim, very funny.” Martin stares into the darkness. His eyes have already begun to play tricks on him, as little speckles of light occasionally pop into the corner of his vision.
“Oh come on, Martin. I’m bored and we’re going to die anyways.” There’s a slosh and a little splash, and then nothing again besides the sound of breathing.
“Don’t joke like that, you’ll manifest it into existence,” Martin says, appalled. Tim doesn’t reply to that.
More sparkles. They slide away like eye-floaters when he tries to focus on them. It hurts his eyes to even try.
“Did you see that?” Tim asks. Martin tries to peer into the pitch black where he hears the voice coming from before giving up.
“I’m not playing I-Spy with you.”
”No, really—There it is again! Do you see it?” Martin hears another splish and he’s sure Tim is pointing somewhere.
“See what, Tim? Because I can’t see bloody anything right now and I’m trying very hard not to die,” snaps Martin. He lets his gaze trail down from his treading arms (or where he assumes they are) to stare beneath his feet. At first there’s nothing. Pitch blackness, just like the rest of—well. Wherever the fuck they currently are.
Then, something catches his eye. A spark of bright blue. He thinks he imagines it for a moment, just like every other little flash he’s been seeing. Until several more begin to follow suit. The way his eyes can focus on it without it slipping away into his periphery…?
And then, in a flash that causes his eyes to explode in pain, the whole cave lights up in opalescent hues.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
Martin turns to where he can now see Tim also holding his head above the water. Other than the pained squinting that currently mirrors Martin’s, he seems to be doing a better job at not-drowning than Martin has been. Damn that athlete.
Jon, on the other hand... He lies on his back, limbs star-fished out with his eyes shut tight. He seems to be breathing, thankfully, but sleeping in a cave full of an unknowable amount of water doesn’t really seem to be the safest thing in the world.
Although, Martin’s arms are already growing tired. After a few moments of deliberation—
(Drown while I’m awake or drown in my sleep?)
—he decides to take the Jon route of lying on his back. It’s surprisingly comfortable, once he figures out how to keep his balance.
“Hey, Martin?” Tim calls out.
“Hmm?”
“What do we do now?”
Martin does a deep sigh. He squeaks as he nearly tips over, but answers as soon as he stops splashing to keep himself up. “I… I don’t know, Tim. How’s Jon?”
“He’s chilling, I think. Can’t tell if he’s passed out or just ignoring us really hard.”
The ginger flips himself back onto his stomach so that he can paddle closer to the other two. Once he’s close enough, he turns over again. “I feel like a doughnut in a deep-frier right now. Flip until golden brown…” Martin hums, mournfully. Tim lets out a snort beside him.
A ripple in the waves, plus a third sloshing sound alerts the two to Jon’s awakening. “Oh what the f—“ Followed by frantic splashing as Jon proceeds to seemingly forget how to swim.
Tim comes to the rescue quickly, grabbing the brunette by the armpits and hauling him to the surface with a grunt. “Hey, hey, hey. No drowning on my watch. Not even you, Bossman,” he scolds.
Jon gasps for air. He looks like he’s about to conk out. Again.
Martin sighs when he sees the man’s eyes roll up into the back of his head. Aaand he’s out…
“Well. We should at least start planning,” he says. He sees Tim nod in his peripheral vision. “Do we even know where we are?”
“Beneath the Institute?”
“Well—yeah, I guess. But where is this? Is there even supposed to be a water tank here? It’s obviously not a septic,” Martin shivers at that thought, “it’s basically a giant indoor pool. In a cave.”
When Martin thinks about it for more than two seconds, he feels like he should be panicking so much more than he is. But, well, he’s half-convinced he’s dreaming, and he knows Tim probably is too. Hopefully his waking body isn’t wetting the bed right now. Isn’t there something about warm water and pissing yourself in your sleep…?
He resigns himself to wet sheets when he awakens. If this is a dream. “Better than worms.” Tim huffs a laugh beside him.
Martin tries not to think about the worms. Or Prentiss at all, preferably. Or how Sasha’s doing. Or if anyone will even find them. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.
They’ll find a way out, or someone will save them, but this will be okay. It has to be.