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“Really Jon, this is getting out of hand. This… infestation hasn’t been a problem for anyone else in the building and Martin… well he really shouldn’t have started living here in the first place.”
Martin felt the tips of his ears burning. Honestly, he was kind of used to people glancing over his presence. Hell, he’d always tried to disappear into the background, which was difficult at his size. But he managed. It was better that way, for everyone.
Elias talking about him like he wasn’t present though? While Martin was only a few feet away? Well. Embarrassment and anxiety were pretty much his oldest friends at this point, but this was rough even for him. He caught Sasha’s eye, in his desperation to look anywhere but the scene in front of him. She gave him a commiserating look, a can-you-even-believe-this look. Tim just looked angry, and Martin squirmed, unable to shake the feeling that it was his fault.
Martin cast his gaze away, landing back on Jon and Elias. Not ideal, but leaving this plane of existence wasn’t exactly an option. It wasn’t all bad though. Jon looked furious. Saying something about worms and responsibility and protecting his staff. Jon was a force to be reckoned with, when he was in a mood. Jon was steadily advancing on Elias, despite needing to tilt his head up due to the several inches of height difference between them.
Martin couldn’t help but picture those videos of angry kittens driving back larger animals. He was sure Jon would be hissing if he could. It was oddly cute when not directed at him, in a terrifying sort of way.
God he was a mess.
“-right Martin?”
Oh shit Jon was looking at him. “Yes?” he tried, stammering only a small amount. Score one for Martin. Pretty sure that brought him up to negative eighteen for the day.
Jon swung back around to Elias. “See? Just because they haven’t caused problems yet doesn’t mean that the danger isn’t real. I don’t see how you can be so blind about this!”
Huh. that was interesting. Elias tended to go for what Tim had coined a “customer service smile but to the left”. You always got the sense Elias was smirking at you while being unable to call him out on it. But his masked had slipped, just a bit. Martin wondered what had set him off. Perhaps he’d imagined it- Jon certainly hadn’t noticed, caught in a whirlwind of indignation. But Martin didn’t think so.
“Enough.” Elias’s clipped voice cut through the room, and Jon’s mouth snapped shut. “You’ve always put on a good show, but I know you have a tendency for… strong reactions. I simply can’t allow these current conditions to continue.”
“I-” Jon seemed to shrink into himself. “I…I’m sorry, but-”
“Honestly Jon, I find myself rather disappointed. You should have known better than to allow any of this. I expected more from you.”
Jon fell silent, cowed into submission.
Martin felt a bolt of anger flash through him, icy and frostbitten. How dare he? Elias of all people, who had been precisely zero help with anything. Martin found himself standing, unclear how he got up. The others weren’t far behind him.
Tim pushed himself to the front. Martin loved that about Tim, how he always directed the attention to himself when the situation grew tense. It was instinctive, moving to protect the rest of them from whatever was happening. It made him feel warm. No one had ever gone out of their way to shield Martin from anything.
That fire was once again lighting up Tim’s eyes. But he didn’t quite manage to get the words out. Not before everything went wrong.
There was a void in the corner. The center of the room. The corner. A space that isn’t. Because it wasn’t darkness, it wasn’t light, it was just an absence. Martin should be scared; he’s scared of everything.
But he wasn’t. Any fear he may have felt was siphoned away before it could be transmitted between his neurons, taken to fill the absence that could be nothing but empty.
Martin stared at the spot next to the nothing. Whatever was there could not be perceived and if he managed it would unmake him.
A voice filled his mind, crafted of static and reverb and silent in how it was heard. It snaked through the fabric of being and the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies and left as quick as its arrival, the universe stitching itself back together behind it.
It left something in its wake.
The next sound was audible, but was somehow deeper than a sound should be. As if the very concept of a fissure could be heard, transmitted across the vibrations shaking the room.
The tear was visible now, and long, dark limbs crept from the other side, gouging into the floor and leaving long scratches across the worn wood. Faintly, the thought crossed his mind that Jon wouldn’t like this. He’d frequently called Martin to get rid of regular spiders. This might be a bit above Martin’s paygrade.
The limbs started to expand, rippling and bulging from within. They twisted and contorted until skin tore and the spindly structure broke into thousands of pieces. They hit the floor and began to scuttle around as one spider because countless and they swarmed into a writhing horde.
Jon was screaming, mostly unintelligible. He backed up, falling into Tim, “-no please no, please you’ve had enough, please, don’t take them too, aren’t I enough you don’t need more-”
The tiny legs skittered, the mass pulsing in and out in waves, forming a growing pile in the middle of the floor. But it… wasn’t growing in a normal way. Martin let out a hysterical noise at that thought. Normal? The extra-dimensional spider pile wasn’t stacking properly? Right problem that.
But he wasn’t wrong. The addition of spiders wasn’t creating the height, it was as if something was emerging from the floor beneath the pile, every inch of it covered in a thick layer of spiders. The individuals slowly melded back together, into limbs caging the shapes underneath, before opening like a flower and retracting into the floor.
Leaving the two bodies lying on the ground.
Martin couldn’t bring himself to look at the faces. Instead, he took in the stranger’s clothes, so caked in dirt and blood that the original colour was indistinguishable. Instead, all attention was drawn to the dark red liquid dripping down and pooling in frankly terrifying amounts.
The larger figure was speaking, his words becoming audible, as the volume was slowly dialled up. “No…no” -his voice broke, caught on a sob- “No…no please I can’t lose you, not when it’s my fault. I love you, I love you with every fraction of my being and this cannot be how we end.” His head rose, and Martin’s world turned over for the third time that day. He was looking at himself. Himself, who’s arm was extended, fingers wrapped around the knife buried in someone’s chest.
Oh. Not someone.
Jon.
*
Overall, this was not Tim’s day. It started about a 6/10 and was probably sitting at 2/10. Listening to Elias talk to Jon like that, Tim could feel a fierce surge of fury that rattled around until he couldn’t stand it. Jon could be a prick, but he was Tim’s prick, and he loved him. Tim could admit it. He was protective of Jon. Especially since he’d found out that the man was younger than him, it just reminded him of-
So, he found himself angrily taking a stance. Honestly, he wasn’t completely sure what he was going to say. But Tim was furious, and he was going to raise hell.
At least until the world fell apart around him. And built itself back up to feature Martin stabbing Jon.
God, he’d told Martin to stand up to Jon, but this is not what he meant. Except- no, this was wrong. Martin was behind him and Jon was currently squirming in his arms. Tim should probably put him down. A sharp elbow made contact with his side -ouch- and he hurriedly released Jon, muttering apologies. Jon was lucky he hadn’t dropped him; the man was fighting being held like a cat made out of corners. Jon was just so pointy, how did he even-
Damn it, he needed to focus. Because the figures that had appeared were not Martin and Jon, they couldn’t be. That, now that sent terror rising up Tim’s throat. This time, he at least knew not to scream. To not draw attention.
The two figures on the ground simply couldn’t be them. Except- what if it was? What if that was the real Martin and Jon. Who had he been working with? He couldn’t lose everything again, Tim didn’t think he’d survive it, he’d never done well on his own and-
Tim forcibly wrenched himself out of his thoughts. He didn’t have time to panic, not right now. He couldn’t freeze again. Fact one, he knew Martin and Jon. Had known them for quite a while. They had to be real, or nothing was. Fact two, the Martin and Jon on the floor were injured. Not a great attack plan. Fact three, this felt… different. Not like it was with Danny. He was confused, sure, but his confusion was grounded in reality. In fact, it felt a little too real, like Tim was being shown an absolute truth. Fact four- there didn’t appear to be a threat. And Tim felt lost. He could fight, would fight to protect what he cared about. But this left him feeling untethered.
A loud gasp cut through everything. Jon (The Second?) was stirring, despite the knife in his chest (someone should probably do something about that) “Martin?”
Stabby Martin froze, then clutched him into his chest. “Jon… I’m so sorry, are you alright? Of course you’re not I just stabbed you I’m so, so, sorry just please be alright-“
Stabbed Jon grabbed his hands, pulling Martin even closer. “No, it’s okay.”
“It is not okay-“
“Martin honestly its-“
“I stabbed you! How can you even bear to look at me-“
“Fine!” Jon (Spooky Jon?) cut him off. “Yes, it hurts, and yes I probably need a hospital, but I think I’ll be okay.”
“I. Stabbed. You. That’s never going to be okay, Jon-”
“Martin it was consensual it’s alright, I love you-”
A high-pitched squeak pulled their attention to the rest of the room. Apparently, his Jon had finally broken out of his panic. Straight into panic 2.
Ah, Tim recognized that look. His Jon was not taking it well, and was about to get shouty. “What- what is happening? Who, no, what the hell are you? Consensual?!?” And there it was.
Tim could see the other Jon taking in the room, ignoring the question. Frankly, he looked as shocked as Tim felt.
“Oh.” -his eyes flashed with unnatural light- “Oh. This is… not ideal”
Other Martin was looking at him. “Tim?! Tim is that really you? Wait.” His stare grew cold, and he quickly looked to his Jon, before training his eyes back on Tim. “It that actually him?”
“Yes” The other Jon said, so warmly that Tim could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s… really Tim.”
The cold stare evaporated, filling this strange Martin’s face with joy. “Are we… back? Back where we started?”
“Um… Yes? But also no.”
“Jon.”
“Well, it’s quite complicated, and depends how you view time-”
“Jon.”
“Right, well it’s not our Tim, but it’s a Tim like ours, just a few years in the past. Actually, this world is almost exactly the same.”
This time, Sasha cut in. “This world? As in, you’re not from this world?”
At this, the two of them startled a bit. They looked at Sasha rather oddly. Tim didn’t like that.
“Is that…?”
“Yeah. Yeah it is.” This strange version of Jon had a small smile, slightly crooked. Tim had seen it before, but only very rarely. When his Jon had been utterly content, happy and without stress or anxiety. Tim knew better. He should know better, should know that these creatures could pretend to be people you knew. But that expression solidified it for him. This wasn’t the same. The stabbed man was Jon. Not the same, but Jon nonetheless.
As if summoned by his musings, Tim’s Jon inserted himself in the conversation. “Are you saying you’re from another dimension?”
The other Martin just nodded, looking a bit lost. Speaking of, he needed to check on regular Martin, who appeared to be having a panic attack on the ground. This, Tim could fix.
Tim slid down to him “Hey, Martin, breathe.”
“No!”
Tim could hear chatter behind him, Sasha and Jon trying to interrogate the newcomers. “Come on Martin, we’ll figure this out.”
Martin was still breathing fast, but at least he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. “No! Why are we asking about where they’re from, when I’m currently stabbing Jon!” His voice pitched higher and higher, drawing the attention of the room.
The other Jon answered. “Um… don’t worry about it?” Tim gave him an incredulous look. Yeah, this was definitely some version of Jon. Martin seemingly choked on air. “Calm down” -the other Jon continued, unhelpfully- “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been stabbed.”
Shockingly, this did not improve things. Tim looked a little more closely, seeing that the other Jon’s flesh was pockmarked with scars. It was... awful. Not for how it looked, but for what it said. Tim couldn't imagine how much pain went into getting scars like that. The others seemed to be taking this in as well, judging by the sharp intake of breath behind him.
This was apparently too much for his Jon, who sunk to the floor, suddenly deflated, the fight and drive taken out of him. “What… what happened to you?” Looks like he would have to take charge, with Jon and Martin out of commission, and Sasha focused on questioning.
Come on, Tim. He needed to be strong for them. Gathering his wits, he forced a confidence he didn’t feel into his tone. “We can worry about all this stuff later; we do not have time to unpack all that. Somebody needs to call an ambulance.”
Elias strolled forward, from where he’d apparently decided to just watch instead of helping. Typical. “Mr. Stoker is correct. I’ll instruct Rosie to call an ambulance, and we can continue this in my office.” His cold eyes raked over the group. “Perhaps without so many… distracting factors.”
“You.” In all his years, Tim had never heard a syllable spoken with more hate. He would never have imagined that any Martin would be capable of such a tone. The air thickened, suffocating within an instant. Instinctively, he went to make a joke, a comment, something to break the tension. He never got the chance. In one fluid motion the strange Martin pulled the knife from his Jon’s chest and lunged at Elias.
What the actual fuck.
*
That was unexpected. Sasha couldn’t bring herself to think too hard about what was happening around her. If she gave into fear, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. She had never been particularly brave.
She could be reckless though, if she wanted something, if she wanted to know something. She could break down later. For now, she was going to get answers.
“So, why exactly is your Martin stabbing people?”
The other Jon didn’t answer her. He was just gazing at knife-holding-Martin, fondly. Martin was furiously trying to stab Elias. “Yes! Fuck him up!” he called out. “Aim for the eyes! I love you so much.”
The original Jon and Martin both started making an extremely peculiar collection of noises. Martin was managing an interesting mix of embarrassed and terrified. Sasha was pretty sure Jon was buffering as he tried to work through the situation. Other Jon turned to them, but was stopped short as he gasped in pain.
Right. Stabbed. Sasha didn’t know much, but- “Tim! You know first aid, right?”
Tim was at her side in seconds. He was always there when you need him, something Sasha loved about him. “Not enough for this! Pressure, I think?”
Sasha nodded. “Yeah, it sounds right at least.”
Tim visually steeled himself. “Alright. Alright I can do this.” He looked around frantically, before pulling off his jacket and pressing it to the wound. Other Jon gasped, air rushing through gritted teeth. Tim winced. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything better.”
“No, it’s fine. I wish Martin had used his other knife, I kind of needed that one.” They looked at him. “You know… to keep the blood in.”
Sasha could not handle this she was going to ask. “Okay why does he have that. Why did he stab you?”
“Well, the knife was for stabbing, and I asked him to stab me.”
Sasha heard movement behind her, like someone smacking into a desk, then- “What?! Why?” Looks like her Jon was back up.
“Well, I became god for like five minutes-” The other Jon winced suddenly.
Tim had pressed down a bit too hard. He peered down, checking the wound. “Sorry! Sorry, accident. But what does that even mean!?”
“Well, I was the lynchpin to the Eye’s ritual, well I mean it may have been partially or entirely the Web, though all fourteen, maybe fifteen were involved-”
Alright that was enough, she needed to get him back on track. They did not have time for this. “Jon” -Sasha interrupted- “I think you need to start at the beginning, that was incomprehensible.”
“Well, it started with the apocalypse happening-”
“THE BEGINNING, JON”
“Um… archive’s haunted?”
Silence, then Tim. “Ha! I knew it!”
“Guys, maybe we could focus on why my doppelgänger is currently murdering Elias!” Wow. Sasha hadn’t known Martin was capable of hitting that pitch.
They all turned to other Jon, who looked uncomfortable at the attention. “Elias is… also haunted.”
A scream tore through the air. The other Martin had pinned Elias down, and there were two more glints of light, two twist before Elias fell silent. He was dead.
Sasha hadn’t liked him but…
She honestly did not know how to respond to this. She couldn’t really feel anything, which probably wasn’t good. Emotions later. She could repress it now, and deal with the emotions later.
The other Martin stumbled over, and they all drew away from him. He gave them a hurt look, which was ridiculous.
“Jon.” Sasha’s Jon turned towards him, but the other Jon leaned into him like he was the sun. “God, I should have gotten you help first, what was I thinking-”
The other Jon shushed him. “No-no I think I’m alright? Look.” He pulled Tim’s hands off him, to reveal the wound closing up. It wasn’t healed by any means, but it had stopped bleeding.
The other Martin looked at it in wonder. “…But…how?”
“The Eye. When I first accepted the Eye, it brought me out of my coma”
(Coma!?)
(Shhhh!)
“And… I just became the Watcher.” The other Jon said this like they all knew what it meant. He was definitely ramping up into an explanation, but that didn’t help when they had zero background. Sasha was losing her patience.
The other Martin’s eyes widened. “You mean…”
“Yes. It’s like when I became the pupil. Well, kind of. The process is different, as- actually that doesn’t matter right now. The point is, I’m the strongest receptacle of the Eye, so when we kill Elias, I become Head of the Institute.” He grinned, the rush of figuring something out almost tangible in the air.
“That’s… that’s not how promotions work.” Original Martin whispered.
Not getting promoted had hurt. But she may have dodged a bullet.
*
Absolutely not. Absolutely not. Good lord.
Jon was willing to put up with a lot in this job. He had to. If they had to put up with him, Jon would at least make sure that the job was done to the best of his ability.
But this bastard with his face? No.
He straightened up, striding forward and planting himself in front of the interlopers. He was calm and handling this well. Hopefully everyone had missed his panic attack in the chaos. “Right. What the hell does that mean? You’re the Watcher? What, exactly, is that?”
His double looked at him. “It’s my role.” He didn’t elaborate.
Jon gritted his teeth. “And what do you do in this role.”
“I watch.”
Jon was going to kill him. The prick was smirking at him. Jon was going to commit today’s second murder.
The other Jon raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“What do you thin- I’d like some straight answers. And you will answer my questions.”
“Mmmm, no.”
“What.” How-how dare he? He was the one who just showed up and now he was saying no?
The other Martin gave his companion a look. “Jon…”
This did not stop the other Jon. “I mean, there’s a few things we need to take care of.”
“Absolutely not. You do not get to come into my Archive, saying you’re me, in-in some other dimension, or whatever else you’re claiming, and leave without an explanation.”
“We’re going to though.”
That was it. Jon lunged forward. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what he would do when he got a hold of his double. But it would hurt, if he had anything to say about it.
Tim yanked him back before he could get there. “Whoa there, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Jon glared at him. “Let. Me. Go.” His double was still fucking smirking.
Tim lowered his voice, as if the entire room wasn’t focused on them. “Look, we don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Jon narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. Tim’s grip was firm, but Jon was willing to bite him to get away. Tim clearly picked up on this, and switched tactics. “Alright, alright fine. But don’t attack him, he was literally just stabbed-”
“Well, he’s not stabbed anymore, so therefore-” The sudden slamming of the door drew Jon’s attention away from his excellent argument. Footsteps down the archive stairs, the telltale click of high heels. Rosie entered the room, nose buried in a few papers. “Sorry to bother, but could I trouble one of you to accept a delivery. Appears to be one package and a table, which I have taken the liberty of…” she trailed off, taking in the tableau. Tim bodily holding back Jon. Martin and another, heavily scarred Jon holding each other on the ground, covered in blood. Elias’s unmoving body, also covered in blood. Really, it was an unfortunate amount of blood, above the Institute average.
Rosie took a step back. “Right… I’ll be at my desk, if anyone needs me.” She quickly retreated up the stairs.
The other rose up. “Looks like the table just got here. Feel like committing another murder?”
Other Martin grinned. “Already on it.” He held up the knife.
They started to move towards the stairs. No, they couldn’t go yet- “Stop! You need to explain exactly how you got here and what you plan on doing.”
His doppelgänger didn’t even give him the courtesy of stopping, instead shouting over his shoulder. “The supernatural is real, I’m you from the future, and my advice is be nicer to Martin.” Jon’s Martin squeaked behind him at the words and Jon was left spluttering as they disappeared.
Tim finally let go of Jon, who pointedly wrenched his arm away and went to stand by Sasha.
The archives once again fell silent. It seemed no one wanted to break it, to be the one that made it real. Jon was busy enough with his thoughts. It…it simply couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation, something less fantastical, something that made logical sense. But in his bones? Jon knew this was real. He could feel it, in the way he knew which statements were real. He couldn’t muster up even a token effort of his usual skepticism. Tim kept trying to make eye contact, which Jon would not be doing. He did catch him in some non-verbal exchange with Martin. Tim was tilting his head at Jon and then… winking? What on earth was that about. Speaking of, what kind of advice was “be nice to Martin?” This entire experience was baffling, and Jon hated being kept in the dark.
In the end, none of them had to break the quiet. Instead, a low groan rose from the corner of the room. Elias was stirring. Guess he wasn’t dead. This might as well happen.
He soon regretted his underreaction, even though it was internal. Because as Elias pushed himself up, Jon could see his face, two rivulets of blood snaking down and pooling in his collarbones. Elias’s eyes were gone. Somehow, he managed to speak. “Ughh… what year is it?”
Tim answered, faintly.
Elias did not seem pleased. “Dude, that’s seriously not cool.”
Martin’s head fell into his hands. “What…what the actual hell is happening.”
Jon would like to know as well. And if he had anything to say about it, he would be getting his answers.