Even though Sören knows lots of hysterectomies happen every year and very few of them result in death, he's still panicking, and when he panics he gets antsy - he's pacing around the hospital lobby, fidgeting.
Eventually Mark goes over to him. "Sören, let's go home."
Sören shoots him a look. "But I need to be here when Anthony wakes up -"
"And that probably won't be for a few hours yet. Let's go home and try to chill for awhile."
Sören wants to answer with there is no chill, MY HUSBAND IS HAVING MAJOR SURGERY but he decides not to argue with Mark. He also knows that being in the hospital lobby is probably intensifying his anxiety - there's people waiting and Sören doesn't like crowds, and the news is on the overhead TVs, with footage of the war in Ukraine. He knows Mark is just trying to look out for him; he accepts a hug and squeezes Mark back.
Sören and Mark get in the Prius, and Mark starts driving them home. After being too wound up all morning to eat or drink, Sören's body finally reminds him of needs - his stomach starts to growl. Mark raises an eyebrow, and he takes a detour to pull into a McDonald's drive-thru. Sören doesn't like the idea of Mark spending money to treat him when Mark was homeless months ago, but he tells himself this is one of Mark's love languages and Mark needs to feel like he's taking care of him, so Sören accepts the meal. They have to pull over to wait, and Mark glances at the dispensary across the parking lot in the plaza.
Mark puts a hand on Sören's shoulder. "I'm going to run over to the weed shop."
Sören nods; because Anthony was told to stop all medication two weeks prior to the surgery - including marijuana use - they let their supply get low and haven't restocked yet. Sören sits back and closes his eyes, letting his mind wander, and comes back to himself when the McDonald's employee hands him the bag with the food. Sören mumbles his thanks and holds the warm bag, and his stomach growls again at the delicious smell of french fries. He resists the urge to dip into the bag and start eating fries.
Mark comes back with a small shopping bag and gets in. The idea of Macalaurë Fëanorion buying weed at a dispensary makes Sören crack up laughing - the first he's been able to laugh all day, the anxiety weighing him down - and Mark seems to sense what Sören is laughing at and gives a chuckle himself. "Yeah, I know," Mark says. "It's the Silmarillion/Cheech and Chong crossover nobody asked for."
"What's Cheech and Chong?" Sören asks.
Mark facepalms. "That was before your time. 1970s stoner movies. Back when I used to have pot plants in my van and the police were less ridiculous about stopping people."
That idea makes Sören smile - he still doesn't like the thought of Mark having lived in his van for decades, but the idea of Mark growing weed in his van tickles him. He laughs again when Mark reaches into the bag, pulls out a handful of fries, and shoves them in his mouth. Sören stops fighting it and also reaches into the bag to steal some fries.
By the time they get home, they have no fries left. Mark puts on "Up In Smoke" so Sören can see Cheech and Chong for himself. Mark bought Delta-8 gummies at the dispensary - Sören has a full gummy and Mark has a quarter so he can still drive back to the hospital later. They eat their sandwiches and watch the movie, and while Sören's anxiety returns at the beginning, worried for Anthony's surgery, the scene with the woman snorting Ajax by accident makes Sören laugh so hard he falls off the couch. Towards the end of the movie Sören is very high, and everything is funny to him.
"Good, you're in the right place to accept my gift," Mark says as the credits roll.
"You bought me something?" Sören cocks his head to one side.
"They also sell fidget toys and gag gifts at the weed store," Mark says. He takes the shopping bag and pulls out a rubber chicken wearing an orange vest like an emotional support animal, marked "Emotional Support Chicken". Sören has another gigglefit.
Then Mark produces a fake pickle. He presses a button and the pickle starts yodeling. "You might be having a stressful day, but at least you have a yodeling pickle," Mark says, and hands the pickle to Sören.
Sören loses it again, wiping tears. "Holy shit."
"We are the most serious elves," Mark says, and then he covers his hand with his mouth, catching the "we".
Sören wonders if Mark has figured it out. A frisson goes through him, hair standing on end, heart beating a little faster. Mark looks off to the side, cheeks pink, and Sören is high enough that he finds the boldness to confess the thing he's been sitting on since Anthony went to England. "Kanafinwë..." He makes a Darth Vader breathing sound, then does an imitation of Vader through cupped hands, lowering his voice. "I am your father."
"Hi Your Father, I'm..." Mark's voice trails off as he and Sören wheeze with laughter, doubling over.
Then they calm down and Mark says, softly, "I know."
Sören exhales sharply. "So I'm not just... wishful thinking. When I read The Silmarillion it was like all the bells and whistles and flashing lights went off in my head. There was a reason why I've dreamt of burning to death since I was four. There was a reason why I've dreamt of the gems, and making them. There was a reason -"
"Yes." Mark lowers his head, closes his eyes for a moment, and then he puts his arms around Sören. "We found our way back to each other, after all this time."
"I hope you're not..." Sören shifts awkwardly in his seat, and returns the hug. "We. Ah. The, ah. The incest thing."
"We were consenting adults, and we weren't human. It didn't have the same problems as human incest."
Sören nods. "I was raped by my uncle growing up -"
"Jesus." Mark's expression turns murderous. "Good thing I can't afford to fly to Iceland, or that fucker would be dead." He clenches his fist.
Sören pats him - and feels a vague tingle of arousal, finding Mark sexy when he's like this, but now is not the time. "Jæja. Anyway, I have a bad personal history with incest but you're right, it's different with what we were." Sören puts his hand on his heart. "What we still are."
Mark grabs Sören's face and kisses him deeply, and then their lips linger before they pull back a little, Mark rubbing noses with Sören as he touches Sören's face, strokes his curls. "Always."
"So..." Sören decides to ask about the thing that he's sure is true, but doesn't make any sense. "In, ah. In the book. The... the canon. Finarfin is dead canonically but... I'm pretty sure he's Anthony -"
"Finarfin died during the War of Wrath," Mark says, nodding solemnly. "Tolkien took some liberties with the history. So yes, it appears that Anthony is Finarfin. You nailed it with that portrait of him with the swans."
"I didn't even realize what I was painting," Sören says.
"No, but you knew it here." Mark's hand guides Sören's back to his heart, then he takes Sören's hand and kisses it.
For a few moments they just hold each other in silence - the feeling of being formally reunited, after so long, after so much, goes deeper than words. Deeper than love. Mark buries his nose in Sören's curls and Sören's arms tighten around him, aching for the loss and loneliness Mark has endured, grateful to give Mark his family back for at least a few decades... wishing it was longer.
Wondering what the world will be like, in the future. The rise of the far-right in countries like the United States scares him. The war in Ukraine, Putin's tyranny, the threat of escalation, scares him. The ongoing pandemic scares him, knowing new pandemics will probably be worse. Climate change scares him.
"This isn't good," Sören muses aloud.
"What do you mean?"
Sören pulls back a little, frowning so hard his face hurts. "I know Tolkien took some artistic license with the history, like you said, but... I... Feanor... wasn't supposed to be released from Mentos -"
"Mandos." Mark chuckles.
Sören slaps himself in the forehead. "Sorry, stoned. Mandos. Wasn't supposed to be released from the Halls of Mandos until, um. Not the Ragnarök, but -"
"The Dagor Dagorath."
Sören nods. "Elvish Ragnarök, I guess."
Mark snickers and skritches Sören fondly, like a cat.
"With the way the world is going, I. Ah." Sören scowls again. "This doesn't bode well."
Mark exhales sharply. "I want to say that I've seen 'the end of the world' more times than I can count, but humanity didn't have nukes and manchildren with their finger on the button, a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago. I just hope that this is another case of Tolkien's Christianity influencing his work."
"And if it's not?"
There is another long silence; neither of them knows how to answer that. Some things shouldn't be answered.
Sören winces, realizing the conversation took a decidedly dark turn, and the lingering anxiety about Anthony's surgery returns. Sören grasps at levity, his old favorite coping mechanism. "Well... I hope I haven't been reincarnated for some kind of epic showdown with Sauron." He takes the toy pickle and makes it yodel. "If that's the case, we're gonna need a whole fucking army of yodeling pickles."
Mark's laughter rings out and Sören can't help smiling - it's so good to make Mark laugh. He wants to let in more of that light to chase away the storm clouds of Mark's pain. On impulse, Sören gets up, runs out to the studio to grab his tablet, and comes back. While Mark cleans up after their meal, and then gets some other things in order, as if his own worry for Anthony puts him in cleaning mode, Sören paints a little something on his tablet, hoping it will make Mark laugh some more. When it's ready, he shows Mark the finished product.
"Hells," Mark yells, and doubles over. Sören laughs along with him.
"This is my finest work," Sören says jokingly. "Even better than the Silmarils."
Mark laughs so hard he tears up. Then after a moment of hysterical laughter he breaks down crying.
"Oh no." Sören feels a stab of guilt. He puts down his tablet and takes Mark into his arms. "I hope I didn't offend you. I know that was a really bad joke -"
"No, you didn't offend me. It was terrible but it was fucking funny." Mark gives him a reassuring squeeze. "It's..." Mark falls apart. "I failed you, Atya. I'm so sorry I cast the Silmaril into the sea. I know how much the Silmarils meant to you, we took an Oath, we did terrible things to uphold that Oath, and then I fucking failed you..." Mark sobs on Sören's shoulder.
Sören starts crying too. As much as it hurts to know the Silmarils are gone forever - he knows what they are, why Fëanor made them, it was like a submissive collar, the light of the gems symbolizing the light of the love Fëanor shared with his brothers and Maglor. The feeling that was poured out into those stones had been an act of magic; the Valar knew the Silmarils held power and that was why they wanted them after the Trees were destroyed. That power could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and that was why the Oath had been so severe, even as Fëanor's sons turned into monsters to fight monsters.
But Maglor had tried. And Fëanor couldn't be angry with his son for what had happened - getting rid of such a visceral reminder of the pain and death, especially Maedhros's. "You were traumatized," Sören says, holding Mark tight, rocking him, petting his hair. "You had a meltdown. I know. I understand." Sören gives a wry smile through his tears. "I burned the ships in that same state of mind. Maybe Fingolfin will forgive me, wherever he is... and I forgive you. Though really, there is nothing to forgive. I should be the one apologizing to you, for what the Oath brought -"
Mark silences Sören with a kiss. Then they start crying again, holding each other, rocking together, weeping. Tears unnumbered ye shall shed, Sören thinks to himself. He knows not all tears are bad, but he can feel Feanor's reaction in the back of his mind, pride stung. This is what those Valar fuckers want. To break us. To make us crawl back to them.
And so Sören does what Sören has always done, trying to calm the tides with humor. He gets his tablet again and he decides to try to make Mark laugh. He racks his brain for a moment, and then he knows just what to do.
A meme.
"Here." Sören shows Mark the meme he just slapped together.
Mark chuckles and facepalms. Then he says, "I feel like a dumbass saying this, but I... don't get the reference. Who is that?"
"It's Drake." Sören's eyebrows shoot up, stunned, even though he logically knows he can't expect Mark to get every pop culture reference, having been homeless and without much media access for years. "You've never heard of Drake?"
Mark shakes his head. "I won't ask if Drake is like vore."
Sören laughs, then he finds the "Hotline Bling" video on YouTube and shows it to Mark. When the song is over, Mark takes Sören to the studio and sits at his harp... and proceeds to play an instrumental version of "Hotline Bling" by ear. Sören doesn't know which is more impressive, that "Hotline Bling" actually sounds pretty and soothing on the harp, or that Mark can play a song by ear after hearing it only one time.
It gives him chills. He feels like he's in the presence of magic... of deep magic. Of power.
It makes him love Mark all the more.
Sören feels like he's going to cry again, so it's time for more levity. He gets up and does the dorky dance from the Drake video as Mark plays. Mark chuckles but keeps playing, flawlessly, his composure unbroken.
Suddenly Sören's cell phone goes off, vibrating in his pocket. Sören swipes to accept the call without seeing who it is. "Jæja?"
"Hello, is this Sören?"
"Yes. This is the hospital?"
"Yes. We're calling to let you know Anthony is waking up from surgery now."
Sören jumps up and gives a shout of triumph as the flood of relief rolls over him, even though he knows they're not completely in the clear yet - there might be complications after surgery, and hospitals are a hotbed of COVID...
Still, he made it. "OK, we're on our way." Sören ends the call, then Mark grabs him and they spin around, laughing with giddy euphoria. "Thank fuck. Thank fuck, thank fuck..."
Mark squeezes him and gives him a big kiss.
Tears sting Sören's eyes. "I don't know what I would have done if he didn't..." Sören doesn't finish that sentence. He doesn't want to think about it; can't bear it. Mark looks away and Sören knows the thought is far worse for him, having lost his entire family.
Mark takes Sören by the hand and pulls him along out of the studio. They stop to skritch the cats and give them food, and then they grab their coats and head out.
Anthony looks exhausted, but manages a smile. Sören thinks he looks adorable with his hair mussed, but keeps that thought to himself as he and Mark hug him gently - Sören wants to squeeze Anthony tight and never let go, but he knows Anthony can't really handle that right now. "How are you?" Sören asks.
"Fucked up," Anthony says.
Mark and Sören's eyes meet, and Sören thinks to himself, High King Finarfin, saying he's fucked up. Mark smirks and Sören knows he's having a similar thought. They glance back at Anthony. "Did they give you the good shit?" Mark asks.
Anthony nods. "Dilaudid."
Sören has to Google it and lets out a low whistle. "Jesus."
Anthony leans back. "I really want a roast beef sandwich. I don't even eat meat very often, but apparently that's what my body wants right now."
"Jæja, you just had major surgery, you need protein," Sören says. "Hell, we ate McDonald's."
"Oh fuck, that sounds good too." Anthony groans. "But roast beef sounds better. Shit."
"You want me to run out and get a roast beef sandwich from somewhere for you?" Mark asks. "Or something close to it, like a steak sandwich if there's no roast beef?"
"I don't want to ask, but..."
Mark gives Anthony another hug and a quick kiss and then he takes off. Sören pets Anthony's hand, and swallows hard at the IV. "I'm so glad you made it," Sören says, and feels the tears start coming again. "I love you so much..."
Anthony's eyes widen - Sören feels bad for crying in front of him, not wanting Anthony to feel guilty for needing surgery - and then Anthony smirks and says, "Hi So Glad You Made It I Love You So Much."
Sören's tears become laughter. "Goddammit, Ara." And then he quickly corrects himself - shocked that in the face of such intense emotion, Background Fëanor made a slip. "Anthony. Wow, I'm stoned."
"Oh good, I'm glad Mark got you high, I knew you'd be all stressed out."
"Not as high as you are, though." Sören snickers.
Anthony rolls his eyes. "I was informed that as the anesthesia began to kick in, I started performing 'Drop It Like It's Hot' by Snoop Dogg."
Sören has a gigglefit, snorting. The knowledge that this is Finarfin makes it even funnier. "Oh god. Oh shit. Oh fuck..."
"Yeah."
"I'd pay to watch that."
"No." Anthony's face is stern, but his tired eyes are smiling.
Sören moves his chair closer, takes Anthony's hand, and Anthony leans on him. Sören tries not to start crying again. He knew he would probably get emotional just from the sheer amount of relief when Anthony's surgery was done, but the confirmation of who they are makes it even more intense... like a reunion.
Sören wonders if Anthony has ever had any dreams or glimpses of memories. He doesn't even know how to approach that subject with him.
It can wait. Right now, it's enough that Anthony made it through surgery, and that they're here, together.
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