Chapter Text
It’s hard for Scar to imagine he was young once. Not that he is old by any means, but there was a time that his body didn’t ache every time he tried to move it. A time where his hands didn’t involuntarily shake with the tremors that recalled explosions and broken bones. No, by all means he used to be less jumpy. A time where he could look in the mirror and not be so aware of the scars that littered his body and could walk without any fatigue or feel his body give from too much strain when he didn't have his cane or his wheelchair. Back when he was a "respected businessman" who made it his mission to piss off any god or mortal who had the misfortune of wandering into his schemes and scams he created in order to make money he needed to survive. All before he was imprisoned and chosen to participate in what was to be a simple game. All he had to do was be the last one standing and they promised him a reward. Though, given how he had a habit of pissing gods off he had a feeling that they didn't truly want him to win a thing. Still, a game with a prize? How could he pass that up? Maybe even create a monopoly in the arena to boot. Even if he didn't win he could still have some fun toying around with the system.
Maybe everything wouldn’t have been so bad when he lost if he never followed him into that desert. A young man like him in a red sweater with beautiful wings on his back with so many colors it was like looking into a sunset. Who, by some dumb chance of fate, got him blown up by a creeper as a botched prank. A contestant who, for some reason, Scar couldn’t remember being around with the other twelve people who were also chosen to participate. But, hey! He was willing to follow him into the desert and go along with his schemes just because he felt bad about killing him. Scar wasn’t going to pass up on the prospect of having an ally in the arena.
“Don’t think I ever caught your name?” Scar said, slightly out of breath.
The young man with the macaw wings and dark eyes looked back at him with a relaxed smile.
“Name’s Grian,” he said, “I’ll do my best to keep ya alive, okay?”
How ironic that promise turned out to be.
At the end of it all the sun beat down on Scar's face. Far more cruel and unforgiving than it had been before. Scar was made so much more aware of every bone that had broken in his body. Of the blood that drenched his skin as it poured out of him. He, funny enough, couldn't help but joke to himself about how he thought maybe the blood shouldn't be out of his body like this. However, the small laugh to himself just came up as a cough as blood and bile fell from his mouth.
The shining sun beat down on him unforgivingly until a figure loomed over him. His savior, his helper, and soon to be his killer. His face was obscured by his own shadow, but Scar knew him long enough to know that his red eyes shined with regret, and were wet with tears.
"It's okay," Scar gasped. "I love you. It's okay."
Those were the last words he uttered before the whole world went black.
Scar awoke in his room as a strangled sound escaped his throat. Shooting up into a sitting position on his bed. He looked around, almost relieved. There was no desert, no ring of cacti, no games to be played. The heat from the sun replaced the cool air of a quiet morning. The nightmare had, unfortunately, triggered one of his pounding migraines. Scar groaned in frustration as he laid back onto his bed and rubbed at his head, his thumbs circling their usual paths. He hated how often he was getting these stupid headaches now. Even more than he usually did. In fact, he didn't want to admit to anyone, let alone himself, how absolutely bizarre he'd been feeling for the past couple of months.
The fatigue was normal, sure, it was a constant in his life. That's what he had the cane and the wheelchair for after all, but sleeping for hours on end, even through the whole day, was not something he just… did. Everything just felt off with his body, and it was something he just didn't need right now, even if it was just another unusually bad flare up.
Scar looked out the window to see the sun rise lazily out of the curtains of his window. He could see a few of the other houses in the community in the distance. Some with their lights on, and if he could crane his ears just enough he could hear the sounds of early morning housework and chores. Well, if everyone else decided to get up this early, he supposed this was as good a time as any to get up too. No inconvenient flare up was going to hold him back.
Scar situated himself so that his legs could swing over the bed as he grabbed the simple pants and white shirt he had picked out the night before. He then descended down the hall of his house, and he brewed and poured some coffee in a thermos, determined to make it through this day. Heading outside after putting on his brown coat and hat as he walked down the worn path to an old friend's home.
______
Joel and Lizzie’s house sat somewhere away from the heart of the marketplace. The modest little cottage had ivy growing along its walls, and an array of roses and lily encircling the house like a fence. If anyone knew better, they’d think they were stepping into a faerie ring as they approached. The top half of the front door opened as Lizzie greeted him. Her dusty pink hair in a messy bun and her smile as bright as ever. For a moment, it reminded him of the desert sun, a flash of heat flooding him before she spoke.
“Scar! Welcome,” Lizzie said. “I have some tea on the kettle, if you’d like a cup.”
“Ah, thanks Lizzie, but I got my vice right here,” Scar replied, holding up his thermos.
“Well, I’ll let Joel know you’re here-now, kids-!”
The bottom half of the front door pushed open as a little boy and girl seemed to run past Lizzie and right on over to Scar, giggling their little hearts out. The man couldn’t help but laugh seeing the little brown haired children run up to him.
“Mr. Scar! Mr. Scar!” The little ones had called out.
“JJ, Hermia,” Scar greeted as he ruffled the hairs on their heads. “I think you two have grown taller since I saw you.”
“You only saw us yesterday!” the boy, JJ, had giggled.
“What? That doesn’t mean you still couldn’t have grown in that time.”
Joel then emerged from the house, holding the bottom door open with his hand.
“Go on inside, kids. You need to finish your breakfast,” Joel said.
The two looked at Scar with pleading eyes, but he just simply smiled, shaking his head as he shooed the two away playfully. Scar then paused. Flexing his fingers as they tingled and started going a bit numb at his fingertips. The sensation had seemed to travel through his body in a warm wave that felt off. Once again his body just felt off.
“Hey,” Joel said, nudging his shoulder. “You alright, mate?”
“Uh, yeah,” Scar chuckled, the unease not leaving his mind. “Lost in thought was all. So, what seems to be the trouble?”
“Just a roof job. That nasty storm from a couple days ago blew some of the shingles right off and I need extra hands.”
“Could always let JJ come up and help.”
“Ah, hell no. Lizzie would have my head if I even considered letting him up there,” Joel laughed, his smile reaching his eyes at the mention of his wife.
Joel and Scar climbed up to the roof of the cottage. Lizzie and the children busied themselves as well with picking the flowers and vegetables in the backyard garden. Joel looked up from his work and smiled at his children, Lizzie locking eyes with him from the ground and motioning to Scar. Joel giving a curt nod.
“So,” Joel said. “You and Grian finally got around to talking?”
Scar paused. The hammer in his hand hovering over the nail he was going to hammer into a shingle as he looked over at Joel. The rising morning sun hot on his neck as it filled him with visions of his dream. Visions of Grian’s face.
“We don’t talk,” Scar said stiffly. “I don’t know what made you think we did.”
“Well, it’s certainly not what it looked like months ago.”
“Joel, what are you on about?”
“Oh, you know, the tavern? Jimmy and Scott’s wedding? Seemed like you guys were having a wonderful time catching up. I just thought-”
“Well, you thought wrong,” Scar interrupted. “Grian and I don’t talk.”
Oh, but they did talk that night. In fact, they did far more than talk. Scar tried to shake the blurry memories from his head as he hammered the shingle into the roof. The lively music, the drinks, and hearing Grian’s laugh for the first time in four years, and trying to ignore in the haze how it made his heart skip. How it felt like something between them shifted that night as their lips pressed against each other and Grian’s hands ran up and down his body so gently and effortlessly. Only for it all to mean nothing when he woke up that morning. Grian had left again. Like the hermit he was. The pesky bird he had always been.
Scar sighed as he wiped sweat from his brow. Blinking as the sun seemed to obscure his vision, black spots forming in the corners of it. Now acutely aware of how tired and woozy he was beginning to feel.
“Scar?” Joel asked. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t feel so…”
Scar’s voice trailed off as he fell to his side. He would have fallen off the roof if it wasn’t for Joel catching him by his shirt collar. Joel calling out his name seemed lost on him as everything seemed to fade to black under the sun. As if, in this unconscious state, he was back in the first arena.
When Scar came to, he heard the muffled voices of Joel and Lizzie. His fuzzy vision cleared up to reveal his way laying on their couch in their living area. His shirt unbuttoned to give his body more air. He groaned a bit as he touched the wet rag that was placed on his forehead and tried to sit up. Lizzie’s hand coming to his chest and slowly laying him back down.
“Don’t get up too quickly, you’re just gonna dizzy yourself again,” Lizzie had huffed. “My, you humans are awfully fragile.”
“Me more than most, huh?” Scar had muttered.
“No, Scar, definitely not you.”
“That would’ve been a nasty fall,” Joel said. “You sure you’ve been doing alright?”
Lizzie began looking him over just a bit to check for any injuries he might have.
“I’m fine,” Scar insisted. “You know how it is sometimes when I get a bad flare up. The sun could’ve just zapped more out of me than I thought-”
Scar then hissed in pain. Lizzie pausing over the spot in his lower abdomen she had just touched. Her brow furrowing as she felt it more lightly before turning to Joel.
“Dear, listen very carefully,” Lizzie said. “I need you to go out into the garden and find me a red rose with a blue stem. I do believe I’ll need it for this.”
Joel looked between his wife and his friend before nodding and heading outside. Lizzie standing up to grab something from the cupboard in her kitchen.
“What is the rose for?” Scar called out.
“Just to get rid of Joel for a moment,” Lizzie replied.
Scar chuckled, shaking his head as Lizzie came back into the living room with a small bottle of dried up flowers and a glass of water. The sweet smell of the flowers was palpable as she held it out to Scar.
“Spit in this,” Lizzie said.
“Why?” Scar asked.
Lizzie smiled a bit.
“If I tell you why I think you’d refuse to spit in it for me.”
Scar sighed a bit, taking the bottle and spitting in it. Lizzie took the bottle back from him and slowly poured water over the top of it. For a moment nothing happened, but then the bottle began to bubble and change into a deep, dark blue color. Lizzie gasped a bit as it did.
“Oh my- I didn’t think-” Lizzie said. “I knew it was a possibility but-”
“What? What’s going on with me?” Scar asked.
Lizzie looked over to him. Pity and an emotion he couldn’t quite place crossing her eyes as she set the bottle down.
“You’re pregnant,” Lizzie said.
For a moment Scar didn’t say anything. He didn’t really know what to say. All he could really do was laugh. A smile split onto his face as he continued to laugh and laugh.
“Wow, okay,” Scar said. “That’s really good, Lizzie. Solid prank you really got me-”
The look Lizzie shot back at him made his smile falter. Scar’s laughing turned much more anxious as he ran his hand through his hair.
“No,” Scar said, sounding more like a plea than a statement. “That can’t be possible. I mean… I mean…”
Scar’s arms wrapped around himself as he thought back to that night. How he felt like his body felt wrong or different since then. It wasn’t because his body was wrong. All this time his body wasn’t completely his. He was sharing it with… with a baby. Grian’s baby. He began to hyperventilate slightly, and Lizzie grasped both his shoulders firmly to try and ground him.
“Scar, breathe,” Lizzie said gently. “It’s normal to feel this way you know-”
“Oh, don’t give me that right now Lizzie, please,” Scar said, burying his face in his hands. “You had Joel. You always fucking had Joel.”
“What do you need from me right now?”
“I don’t know!” Scar answered, anxiety tracing his voice. ”This- I didn’t even think… How am I even going to tell him?”
“I suppose that’s for you to figure out. You can take all the time you need to figure it all out,” Lizzie said. “No one will hear a word from me about this, I can promise you that.”
“Thanks,” Scar said. “I think… I need to go home.”
Scar got up from the couch and began buttoning his shirt back up. Not saying anything else as he exited the house with his coat and hat in hand and walked the cobblestone path back to his home. His free hand grasping at his abdomen as his mind raced with questions and fear ridden thoughts. He wasn’t used to this. Feeling helpless and alone. He always felt like he had things under control, even when he was winging it. But now? This was all just too much. Now all he could think about was Grian. And his stupid face. That stupid, stupid pesky fucking bird.