Author's Note
My first story (sort of), so please be gentle. I bruise like a peach...
Anyways, this story is Diana-centric, told entirely in her POV. Sorry if you're disappointed. However, there is a clear (unless you really can't read between the lines) referrence to Martin/Marvin pairing, and if it's not your cup of tea no matter how subtext-y it is, well then, this story is...not your cup of tea... O_O""
Also, as a time-stamp in the canon world, this fic is my re-working of the episode "The Third Eye". Oh, and no, I'm not bad at math; the year (in the story) is 2008, and its significant or else the timeline's all screwed up. Why didn't I just change the dates when I decided to publish this in 2011? Well, that I have no definate asnwer to, but feel free to speculate. It is a free country, after all.
I could recall almost every major moment in my life; certainly the ones that impacted me and helped shaped me into who I was. I could recall the first time I met the man named Martin Mystery. Of course, he wasn't really a man when I met him, being of the tender age of 11. But even then I hated him and he hated me. Still, our parents were getting married so we kept things in check for their sake, but the rivalry was always there. I wish I could tell you that as the time passed, we grew out of our sibling rivalry and became a loving brother and sister pair, but that's not really true. In fact, I don't even remember what happened to the tension between us. Maybe it was still there; maybe we never grew out of it but it just shrunk in size as we matured…well, as one of us matured. The other half of this equation was still pretty much the same, as far as I could remember.
Maybe it disappeared during that gap; the gap being the six months of my life when I was 14 that I couldn't recall. It was the only significant point in my life that I couldn't, for the life of me, remember. How do I know it was significant? Because I can't remember it; the fact that it's a complete blank is what makes it so important. I've been told through hush-hush rumors that the six months had something to do with The Center; the paranormal investigation agency that I worked for. Now, if I weren't an employee I, too, would think of it as some crazy story a druggie on PCP came up with. But don't tell that to Martin; not unless you want to find yourself thinking, "That's three hours of my life listening to this guy go on about paranormal conspiracies that I'm not going to get back." He may not apply himself to school and doesn't worry about getting a C-average, but when it comes to all things paranormal, he'll fight you (and I could mean that quiet literally), tooth and nail, to prove his point.
It's probably why he doesn't worry that he, too, can't remember those six months of his life. But as a young woman, who prides herself in being pragmatic, being an employee of The Center makes me a hypocrite. Maybe that's why I'm so keen on figuring out what happened in those six months, clinging to that tiny ray of hope that the knowledge would maybe somehow act as a doorway out of this huge mess. Hm…that's a lot of maybes. Add them all up and all you get is one big question mark. I hate that; I hate questions that don't have answers. Martin would love them, though, as he's one who lives for the unknown.
Being his partner at The Center, I really got to know Martin; not just as my step brother, but as a person…sort of. I knew his likes, his dislikes, his… That was it, wasn't it? Hm, despite how outgoing his personality was, or how annoying he could get if he tried hard enough, Martin was actually pretty private. He wasn't one to treat his friends like free psychiatrists, dumping his problems on to them and whining for answers that he was too lazy to actually think of. Sometimes I wondered if maybe it was all a mask; if he was actually as anxious and hurt as I sometimes felt because I didn't know. Maybe the carelessness was all an act, a rebellion to show that he didn't care when he actually did; like reverse psychology except…twisted. Maybe he was just as frustrated as I was with The Center. Maybe he, too, wanted to know everything.
Maybe…hm, maybe I'm so curious about those six months because I just want to replace that question mark, hanging over my life and…my relationship with my brother. Maybe I just wanted to know him better. Because I felt like I didn't know him at all; not at this point, at least. He was standing right beside me, wearing that annoying red and yellow shirt with so much hairspray on his head he could catch on fire with the slightest flicker of a flame; the same as always. But then why do I feel a nervous bundle forming at the pit of my stomach as I look at his eyes? Why did they look so defeated, so glazed over? Why did he look like he was ready to breakdown and cry, when he had never once cried in front of anyone in his life; not even, according to his father, when he had delivered to him the news that his mother passed away after two years of fighting a terminal illness?
Maybe it had something to do with the other side of the glass, where he wanted to be but just couldn't muster up the courage to go in. But that was just another maybe added on to a million other seeming unanswerable questions and assumptions. At that point, all I knew were the things in front of me: my close friend whom I admired with all my heart and soul lying in a coma after a close encounter with death and my step brother, who was exhibiting a side of his personality I didn't think I was ever going to see. It was a side of him I knew he had because every person, unless you were a sociopath, had it, but I just always assumed that he had buried so deep that no situation could ever pull it back out for the world to see. Hm, I guess I'm not much a people person, am I?
But none of this is really making any sense to you as spectator, is it? So let's go back; back to an earlier time. Specifically, the day I met the man named Marvin. Sure, I loved him right off the bat; everyone did, except for Martin. But I never really thought that our encounter would have any significance down the road. Yeah, we worked together on one assignment, but we were going to go our separate ways eventually. Of course, I was as wrong about that as I am about everything when it comes to understanding people.
It was a typical day in my life, stressing over homework, project, commitments to friends, and extracurricular activities; totally normal and typical Diana Lombard. And like any typical day, Martin barged in raining on my already pretty damp parade with some disgusting fun fact he'd learned from his Paranormal Monthly magazine. Then his U-Watch started beeping, and I banged my head against my locker, agonizing over the hours of my life that I've had to give up because of the Center.
Through a random portal that always changed location every time we were called, Martin and I went. On the other side, the large and seemingly endless office area of the Center greeted us with the smell of ammonia and disinfectants. The whole place was so clean, it was said one could literally eat off of the floor. By the time we reached M.O.M.'s office (which apparently doubled a home-away-from-home for our cranky boss), Martin and Billy, a little green alien that sat in a floating high-tech booster seat were chatting it up and laughing at my expense over some joke about my neat freak habits while I stood fuming, poised and ready to smack Martin to the moon.
M.O.M. stopped me of course, citing how inappropriate both of our behaviors were. She didn't even look up from her microscope. I remembered cringing and recoiling in disgust when she mentioned what she was examining; a fungus sample collected from a crash site in New Mexico. As usual, Martin got a good laugh out of me squirming. Hey, I never said the Center was my thing; in fact, I think I've made it quite clear that I felt I didn't belong there.
Yes, everything was totally normal…save for one new addition to the room. Usually, there were two chairs placed in front of M.O.M.'s desk, both carved out of the finest ivory with soft, velvet cushions dyed a beautiful royal purple. That day, both chairs were still there, only one of them was occupied. Looking at his face, I was oddly reminded of someone else. It took me a moment before I could place it.
The wild mess of blond hair, the red and yellow t-shirt, beige cargos and brown-and-black hiking boots; oh yes, the guy was a splitting image of the king of annoyance and disgust, himself, even down to the color of his eyes, which were a shimmering baby blue while Martin's was a slightly deeper shade. Needless to say, my brother was immediately put off by what he saw as invasion of his already marked territory.
He had demanded answers from M.O.M., mainly, who was he and why the hell he was there? With a deep sigh and a pinch of her nose, M.O.M. leveled her gaze with Martin's. She introduced the mysterious man as Marvin, a trainee for the Center who was there for his final examination; a field test, which he had to pass before being able to fully call himself an agent of the Center. In an instant, Martin's attitude shifted from jealousy to arrogance, as he looked down on the new guy with an upturned nose.
At that time, I thought nothing of his attitude; it was typical for Martin to act a little condescending toward the new guy and brag a little about himself. What I should've noted was strange was how Marvin simply looked up at her brother, eyes wide and unblinking. I supposed I shouldn't blame myself. I didn't really get the chance to observe, seeing as how M.O.M. drew everyone's attention back to her once more as she debriefed them about our assignment. We were headed to Tantook Island, off the cost of British Columbia, to the renowned Scopes Academy and Research Institute for the Blind, with the note that her sources had confirmed strange activity. She never told us what, specifically, she had confirmed, just that she did. We were to leave immediately.
Normally, "we" meant me and Martin, but that day, M.O.M. had instructed us to take Marvin. The assignment was his field test and Martin and I were the teachers. This was highly unusual, yes, M.O.M. had commented. Typically, a field test was just a fancy name for a simulator that trainees ran through and were graded pass or fail. However, Marvin had proved be quite exceptional that they decided to give him a real field test, graded and accompanied by her top agents. Martin struggled against it, not for Marvin's benefit, I had thought, but because he loved his spotlight too much. But the end was a foregone conclusion; you could fight M.O.M., but you fought knowing that you'd lose in one way or another.
It was raining that night, on Tantook Island; heavy downpour with constant, violent thunder and lightning illuminating the dark skies. Instinctively, I had leaned close to Martin, who wrapped his arm around me, protectively; yeah, we argued to no end, but he was still my older brother and he looked out for me in a way that only he as my "big bro" could. By the time we got inside the academy, I was wringing water out of my clothes and hair, muttering curse words under my breath.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. We spoke to the victim, a boy named Russell who broke his leg after being thrown down from the stop of the stairs, and even got some insight from the janitor, who said he saw a premonition of the event. Of course, I had brushed it off, being the coolly rational one of the group. I supposed I wasn't surprised when Marvin sided with Martin about the premonition thing. At the top of the stairs, while collecting evidence, I was flat out proven wrong like during most of our investigations. With my own eyes, I saw a residual image of what the janitor described and it freaked me out to the core.
Relocating to the cafeteria, we met another student named Beatrice, who seemed helpful enough, if not a little off in her behavior. But I didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary for her. Hm, maybe that's my problem; I'm too trusting. When she offered to let me stay with her since her roommate moved out, I readily accepted and headed off with her. The last thing I remember was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a figure approaching from behind…before blacking out.
When I awoke, I was sitting in a dark cave, leaning against a rock with my hands tied behind my back. The rain was still pouring outside, the thunder roaring and the lightning so bright it blinded me. The feeling of being watched settled in soon after that. It was like a million eyes were on the wall, staring at me. Maybe there were, I don't really remember. It was too dark anyways. If I sound like I'm too unaffected by this, I assure you I'm not; I get just as scared as everyone else. It's just that after it's over I see no reason to be afraid of the memory.
I don't know how long I was sitting there. It could've been an hour or two, no more than three or four I think. I might've fallen asleep, had a terrible nightmare or something; or the voices I heard in the cave could've been all real. I really don't know. What I do know is that Martin and Marvin found me eventually. I was surprised to hear Marvin mention how well they worked together, but it wore off when Martin said nothing. He simply stood off to the side, leaning away from the other blond. He didn't even help untie me; well, he started to, but then Marvin cut in to help and my brother jumped back three feet with an exasperated sigh.
He said nothing, glancing me up and down for a moment, but then walked on, deeper into the cave. What's his problem, I had thought. The happy-go-lucky attitude that he always had during missions, a real smile that didn't seem forced like when they were in their normal, daily lives, was wiped clean and seemingly replaced with a feeling of frustration. His breath was heaving and sporadic, like there wasn't enough air for the three of them, and he kept his gaze firmly ahead of him, all the while completely and utterly silent. Oh, why didn't I see the signs? Normally, by that time, he could've had a dozen theories about who kidnapped me and why, but that time he didn't even ask me if I was okay.
Likewise, on the other side of me, Marvin was dead silent. He was a lot calmer, though, occasionally glancing over at Martin, who pointedly ignored him. Seriously, I should've seen the signs. I mean, what else did I think was going on, really? If Martin had a problem with the trainee, he wouldn't have been silent; he would've been going off, ranting about how much trouble he was and bragging about his "superior" detective skills; basically chattering until I wanted to have my ears sliced off! And Marvin, with the puppy dog eyes and apologetic expression; what did I think it meant? What else could it possibly have meant? What else could've possibly gotten two 16-year-old boys so shaken and rattled that they even lost the ability to formulate words into sentences?
I didn't find my answer right away. I'm sure I had my hunches; I don't have an IQ of 130 for nothing, right? But I didn't get to see much more of them together; quiet literally. Turns out, Beatrice was possessed by the 13th member of an old, evil cult called the Seers, who were blind, but had amazing powers that eventually drove to and beyond the point of insanity. She had this mystical pendant, gold with a purple jewel the size of my fist in the shape of an eye; one flash and I found myself blinded…literally. Let's just say, afterwards, I had a whole new respect for the blind.
Anyways, I don't know what happened after that. All I remember was Martin saying something about how the spirits of the Seers needed a body to be resurrected and were fighting for his, presumably Marvin's. Then howls of pain and anguish pierced my ears, after which my sight miraculously returned. Unfortunately, what I saw didn't make me feel any better. There was Martin, in front of me, leaning over Marvin's seemingly lifeless body.
"Is he…" I couldn't even bring myself to finish that sentence.
Luckily, Martin shook his head, no. He handed me his U-Watch, instructing me to call M.O.M. with a medical team in tow. His voice was hard and detached, no signs whatsoever of struggle or guilt. But part of me knew what he must've been feeling. Trying to cut himself off from the situation, keeping a tough face on even though it was killing him…it was a defense mechanism he adopted. His true emotions, he had long since buried deep down within his heart, or so I thought. It was the closest to tears I had ever seen of him.
M.O.M. took us all back to her office, giving us her usual congratulations, though she sounded a lot less happy. I didn't feel very celebratory either, and I asked her about Marvin. Beside me, Martin was looking away, pretending not to care and doing such a good job I wanted to smack him. He wouldn't even tell me what had happened, since I couldn't see or help. As usual, an argument erupted between us, with Martin coming insanely close to confessing the secret shared between him and Marvin, though I didn't know it at the time. M.O.M., exasperated already, yelled at us that she didn't need to see us fighting; her mood was agitated as it was.
She sighed, sitting back down on her throne-like chair, her hand rubbing the creases that were beginning to form on her forehead. Marvin was in the hospital wing, she said. He was alright, but his injuries were pretty serious. They were sending him to their base in Hawaii to recuperate. She asked us for our help in clearing out his stuff to be shipped over there. As she left, I heard her mumble something, maybe an apology to Marvin for putting him through it, though I don't really think it was her fault.
Martin was reluctant to help, but M.O.M. dragged him into it anyways, instructing us to empty his locker and clear out his desk and dorm room.
There was nothing, really; well, nothing personal, at least. Just clothes, a skateboard, backpack, water bottle, some random books and magazines; nothing out of ordinary…until I came to his last drawer. Bottom left, with a lock and key; I wondered what could've been in there. When they finally got it open, inside, I saw several books, each with velvet coverings in different jewel tones. There were no words on the cover, so I decided to flip through them, fully aware how invasive I was being, but my curiosity nullified it. It only took a few pages for me to realize what I was reading was a personal journal.
In an instant, Martin shoved aside, rifling through the drawer until he produced one with an emerald green covering. He flipped through, determined and clearly knowing where he was headed. I'd never seen him like that, his eyes darting back and forth furiously as he scanned the page, muttering he words under his breath. Little by little, his expression changed, his face contorting to show emotions of shock, anger, guilt, disbelief. Before I had a chance to ask him what was wrong, he dropped the journal, running out the door.
Naturally, I followed him, shouting for him to stop and talk to me. At some point, I thought I lost him…but found him, later, by the hospital wing. Both hands were pressed against the glass, staring on to the other side, where Marvin lied in a drug-induced coma swathed in bandages.
"What happened?" I asked, softly.
Martin said nothing, but his face said it all. From my coat, I produced the emerald green journal I had grabbed on my way out, handing it to him. "Was it something he wrote?" I prodded. I felt like I was pushing him and, yes, I felt bad for it…but I had to know. I hated being kept in the dark like this. I really didn't want to argue with him in the middle of the hospital, but his silence was frustrating.
"Seriously," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "just tell me. Let me help."
Without a word, Martin took the book from my hand, opening it and flipped to a certain page, before handing it back. I looked from the book to Martin's face, not quite sure what I was supposed to realize at that moment. Still, I could see there was something he wanted me to read, so I took the book. When it slipped out of his finger, Martin walked away without a word. I wasn't too keen on following him this time, instead fixated on the particular page he turned to.
"December 17 2006." The entry was from two years ago. December 17 was also part of those six months that I couldn't remember.
As I read, I was pretty sure my face was also contorting in various emotions. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The entry detailed how he had known a guy named Martin for exactly six months now; how their relationship had begun and developed, the ups and downs they experience, and the mutual feelings that had arisen and how they dealt with it. But they were in a happy place, it had said, and he felt like they truly deserved it, after what they went through to get where they were. It was a journey they both swore they would never forget…but it seems Martin did, anyways. Not by choice, mind you, but it broke his heart just the same.
Afterwards, I returned to Marvin's room to find it spotless, save for one box still on the floor. Inside it, were all the journals from the drawer; Martin must've left it behind. Part of me was insanely curious to find out what exactly had happened and how it happened; all the journals were right there…but I knew I'd invaded his privacy enough for one day. With a resigned sigh, I tossed the emerald book into the white box, sealing the lid and carried it out to M.O.M.'s office, where a large truck was waiting by the portal.
"This is the last one," I said, simply, placing it in the back. The doors slammed shut, and M.O.M. gave the driver the okay. The truck drove off into the distance…until the portal closed. I turned to Martin, who had been standing there silent and stone-faced. I should've said something…but I wasn't quite sure what was appropriate. I couldn't tell him everything was going to be okay; I didn't know that and I was sure lying to him wasn't going to make things better. And I couldn't tell him I understood what he was going through because I didn't. So I told him I was with him in silence, and he seemed to have understood my message.
The next few weeks passed quietly. Everyone seemed to have registered that something wasn't quite right with the slacker. He was a lot more quite, reserved; the fun-loving little boy gone, and replaced by someone wiser and more mature than his years would convey. He even started paying attention in school, pulling his average up from a C to a perfectly respectable B+ to A-range. And through it all, he never once came to tell me or anybody else what had happened during those six months.
One night I stopped by his room when he had skipped dinner, wanting to make sure everything was okay. I knocked and I knocked, several times until my knuckles hurt. I thought he must've been inside; I could see the lights were on from the crack under the door. But he wasn't answering. A cold sweat running down my back, I cautiously reached for the door handle, turning it slowly while yelling through the door to let him know I was coming in. When I got inside, a cool breeze welcomed me. The window was open, allowing the violet curtains to blow freely on the breezy October evening.
No, he didn't jump; he couldn't have. Instead, I found a note on his desk under a paper weight. No address or even a signature of some kind; just a short message saying that he was going for a walk to get answers and clear his head. There was only so much he could deal with.
"Where are you?" I asked to the breeze. Wherever he was, I hoped he was happy. Are you, Martin? Is the world you're looking at clearer now?