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The cave was quiet, every footstep echoing.
Off in the distance, he could hear Charlie roaming around, ready to pounce if the lights faltered for even a moment. What remained of The Great Maxwell's assistant was terrifying, a shadowed creature of nightmares and menacing horror. Wilson smiled as he ran his fingers over his wrist, tracing his Name. He might be one of the only two exceptions. Her sight wasn't all that good anymore, but he could sometimes get her to calm down and sit quietly next to him if he let her get his scent without making any sudden moves. He still kept a flame-fueled barrier up between them, but he was almost certain she understood.
Patting his bag to ensure the meal he'd brought with him was still there, he made for the annoying noise that marked Maxwell's throne.
"Has it already been that long?" Maxwell's voice carried across the room, the amount of fondness in it making Wilson's cheeks flush.
"They're making a fuss," Wilson said as he stepped closer, eyes dragging over every detail of Maxwell's frame. "The last time they were this angry was when they tried to kill me, and we both know what happened then."
Maxwell nodded, extending his hands as far as he could, his own eyes tracing over Wilson's outline. On his right wrist was Wilson's name, the curvature of his handwriting dark against the pale skin exposed by a rolled up sleeve. "Come here?" he swallowed nervously, his forehead wrinkled with worry. "Did they hurt you before you made it down here?"
"No," Wilson moved close enough to touch him, tracing a finger over the furrows of Maxwell's brow. "They actually seemed relieved to have me down here. I wonder if they're tired of Winter yet," he grinned, his thumb tracing idly over Maxwell's wrist. "At any rate, I wanted to see you."
"I suppose I missed you," Maxwell's grin was sly, a touch of mockery to it. Even knowing his soulmate, he was still himself, there would be no changing that. "I-" he trembled when Wilson's hands were suddenly buried in his hair. "Perhaps I have lied," he hissed, his voice quaking when the smaller man sat in his lap, pressing his face into Maxwell's neck. "I did miss you."
"I know."
They sat there for a while, fitted together as snugly as they could manage. In the distance, they could hear crashing noises, but neither could bring themselves to care.
Eventually Wilson moved, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Maxwell's mouth. "I used your book to put protective seals around the camp again," he said quietly, his voice somewhat sad. "Just like last time, it should be there even when the world rearranges."
"I know," Maxwell offered a hand for him to hold while he kneeled on the ground before the throne, digging through his bag. With their fingers laced together, Wilson began pulling out various items he had collected on the walk to the throne. "Is Chester going to be there?"
"I thought you didn't like him," Wilson paused for a moment to smile at him, his thumb rubbing over one of Maxwell's knuckles. "Thought you said he was an annoyance."
"He is, crazed little creature that he is, knowing no fear."
Wilson sat back on his heels, still smiling. "He regenerates, you know."
"I am well aware what that living pillow does," Maxwell grumbled, his voice not holding any true malice. "For your sake, I worry about him."
"Lies," Wilson sing-songed at him, settling a leaf-wrapped item on top of his bag. "You know you adore him just as much as I do. Maybe even more for having created him in the first place."
He glanced to the shadows, pulling something else out. "Is her marble slab still there?"
"Yes," Maxwell looked as well, "They let it stay through the shifting of the Throne."
"Good."
Wilson let go of his soulmate's hand for a moment, approaching the darkness carefully. "Hello Charlie," he whispered, holding out a gentle hand. "Do you remember me this time? I've got some food for you."
The almost-adoring hiss was answer enough for him to wander a short way into the darkness. When his foot knocked into something, he knelt down and carefully set the piece of meat on the slab for her. "We're switching out this time," he informed her. "Maxwell is going to go out into the world. Do you remember what to do?"
A vaguely hand-shaped limb landed on his shoulder for a moment, flicking at his hair fondly before nudging him back towards the light of the Throne. As he walked, he could hear the soft crunching noises of her digging into her meal.
Once he was back in the light, Maxwell inspected him again, his legs crossing at the ankles. "She remembered you?"
With a nod, Wilson pulled their food out of his bag, settling into the space made between Maxwell's legs, his chest to the taller man's back. "I think she may also remember to follow you."
"Good," Maxwell moved his arms to wrap around Wilson's waist. "I suppose I should let you go soon."
"I don't want to," Wilson's voice was angry this time. "I don't want to be separated from you."
His lips pinching together, Maxwell nodded. "I know," he whispered, "I know, I know. I don't want to either, pal. But if we're to keep this going, keep them pleased enough to not suddenly change their minds and eradicate us, we have to."
"I just feel like we're so close," Wilson muttered, pulling some berries out of a pouch and offering them to Maxwell. When the older man accepted them, he fed them to him slowly, waiting until the man's mouth had cleared to quickly kiss his cheek. "There's something missing, but it feels like we're so close to finding our way out."
On the floor at their feet, the divining rod hummed in a mournful sort of way. This close to the lock, it was eager to get its job done.
"We'll get there," Maxwell assured him, kissing carefully at his neck. "And when we do, we will be together. I refuse to accept the possibility that we were only ever supposed to meet here and never again."
Wilson smiled at him, setting the food down before turning in Maxwell's lap, hesitating before letting his lips settle against the older man's. When they touched they shivered, their bodies anticipating what was to happen next. "We will be together. They cannot stop us."
"They can try," Maxwell growled, his voice going rough at the edges. "But they won't succeed."
"No," Wilson smiled, both of his hands on Maxwell's face, the skin-to-skin contact almost burning with how much he had been wanting it. "They won't."