Chapter Text
Jonah stared at the man in front of him. Jonathan Sims, soon-to-be-researcher at the Magnus Institute, shifted uncomfortably. Jonah stared even harder. The space across his mahogany desk stretched between them, bare except for the employment contract. The man in question continued to avoid eye contact with Jonah, and looked down at the papers in front of him. It was irritatingly silent in the room, and Jonathan had yet to utter a single word. Frustratingly, nothing that was happening in Jonathan’s head was clear to Jonah. They had just met for an interview yesterday and the man was chatty enough, how could so much have changed? He looked the same as usual: short dark hair streaked with gray despite his youth, a sweater vest, and overall unassuming posture. Still his very presence screamed that something was wrong. And somehow, Jonah had no idea what. The Eye was entirely unhelpful, it continued blaring alarms into his head as it had been doing all day. Something had changed. He idly wondered if Gertrude had noticed as well. If so, she clearly hadn’t thought to mention it.
“...Mr.Bouchard? Is everything alright?” Jonathan was saying. Jonah blinked deliberately. How unlike him to let his attention stray from a conversation. And Jonathan was such an enigma, too!
“Of course. My apologies, Mr. Sims. Please, sign the contract. Is the salary we agreed upon yesterday still suitable?”
Jonathan didn’t react, except by steadily picking up the pen and signing his name on the line at the bottom. He didn’t even read the contract. His signature was spiky and black. It dripped down the page when he handed it across the desk to Jonah. The ink drop sizzled slightly when it hit the wooden surface of the desk. Interesting. As Jonathan went to stand up, there was a light yet urgent knocking at the door. He Knew it was Gertrude.
“Ah, excuse me. I’ll show you to the research department in a moment, Mr. Sims.” He said, opening the door. The Archivist looked a bit disheveled, a rare sight for her. She stared at Jonathan as he moved to exit the room.
“It’s fine, I can find my way. Thank you.” Jonathan said tonelessly. He didn’t react to the scrutiny of Gertrude Robinson. He avoided eye contact with her too, and quickly stepped through the doorway. Jonah could See that he was headed down to reception, likely to ask Rosie for directions. He swiftly closed the door behind Gertrude.
“How can I help you?” He asked, trying to hide any curiosity in his voice. She rarely sought him out, preferring to ignore him and conduct her business in the archives.
“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” She said brusquely. Classic Gertrude, no wasting time with little things such as manners. Honestly, some people. He knew what she was referring to, of course. He was willing to bet that everyone connected to their entities did, and he wasn’t even a betting man. Well, not really. That was beside the point, anyway.
“Of course I have. Though as for what it is, I can honestly say I have no idea.” Her cold eyes searched him from behind her glasses.
“Neither do I. It concerns me that our patron doesn’t seem willing to offer up any information. Or that it perhaps doesn’t know either. I’m not sure which is worse.”
“Well, keep an eye on it. I’ll reach out to some of our investors and see what they know. I could look into getting you some new assistants-”
“That won’t be necessary.” She interrupted, as expected. Ah well, he could work on that. Maybe he’d get one of the researchers to sign onto the archives. You could never have too many assistants, after all. He sighed as Gertrude left without ceremony. It was baffling. The Eye had never withheld information from him like this since over two centuries ago. Not only was it baffling, it was very worrying. Jonah tried not to worry, since most things were completely under control. But this was a variable he hadn’t seen coming. Worse, he didn’t even know what to Look for. He continued to ponder this as he cast his gaze down into the institute. Jonathan had been directed to his desk and had awkwardly introduced himself to Sasha and David. At least they had a somewhat functioning research department. At least David wasn’t being unnecessarily dramatic about having assistants.
He spared a glance at the clock on his wall. This was going to be a long day, he could already tell. He frowned slightly when he noticed that the time was wrong. The hands of the clock weren’t moving, frozen at 11:58. That was very odd. He reached for the phone on his desk. He needed to call Peter.
-
Martin woke that morning to a pounding on his door. It was a familiar sound, yet it filled his heart with dread left over from Jane Prentiss all those years ago. It was dark, where was he? He sat up in his bed (from his old flat, what?!), listening to the knocking at his door. He vaguely felt that maybe he should be reacting to this. Instead, he just felt empty. Oh god, he had killed Jon. Now he was waking up in his bed? Nothing about this was right, he thought as he scrambled for his phone. The display let him know that it was a Tuesday, June 10th, and 4:32 in the morning. Great. He flicked the lights on and grabbed his biggest chef’s knife on the way to the door. Not that it would do anything against something like Prentiss (although, he reminded himself hysterically, it had certainly worked against something like Jon. He could almost see the black liquid sliding down the blade and onto his hand), it almost made him feel better. The shape of the handle in his palm mostly made him feel ill.
He wrenched open the door after fumbling with the deadbolt. He dropped the knife in shock, it clattered to the floor, sending a spray of that black liquid across the floor. Outside was- Jon. Not the Jon he knew though. This one was young, scar free, and had short hair barely touched by gray. He wore a What the Ghost! Hoodie, sweat pants, and was out of breath as if he’d sprinted here. At four thirty in the morning? Martin was very confused. Then, he met Jon’s eyes. The man was staring at him desperately, but those eyes- they were the same vibrant, toxic green that they’d been in the apocalypse, but something about how they pierced through him felt different. Martin knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the eye, but this was unfamiliar. This was like staring into a supernova. The death of a star, nuclear fusion on a scale incomprehensible for the human mind- a drastic and terrifying change.
Martin was saved from drowning in those eyes by Jon collapsing against him. His shoulders were shaking, and Martin realized suddenly that he was sobbing into his nightshirt. He felt numb for a moment, then it hit him. Somehow, his Jon was here with him. He was holding him in his arms, and he was alive. He realized that he was apologizing frantically.
“I’m s-so sorry- I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Jon shook his head, still crying into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry too, Martin, I-I love you so much- please, can we talk? Something’s… happened." He said after a few minutes of tear filled silence. Martin nodded numbly, and they shuffled backwards into his flat. It was a bit awkward, considering that neither of them wanted to let go of the other. They collapsed onto his ratty old sofa (god, he forgot how uncomfortable that thing was). Martin still had his arms wrapped around Jon, who was practically in his lap. He still didn’t try to meet Martin’s eyes again. It was such a relief to hold him in his arms (alive this time- he loved him so much. Driving that knife into his chest was the worst thing he’s ever done). But- how could something have happened in the time before he woke up here- wherever, whenever here is? Was it the space between worlds?
“Jon, when you’re ready… what did you mean? What happened? After- after, you know…the end?”
Jon shuddered in his arms, and finally lifted his gaze to meet Martin’s eyes. His cheeks were stained with a dark liquid- Martin knew that his tears were inky and black, after the fears came, but like the eyes they looked different. Of course they were still black and thick, but they had a slight sheen to them that hadn’t been there before. Martin was reminded of an oil spill. Dread began to envelop him once again. Jon was still himself, Martin was sure. But he was right, something happened in that space between the time-that-was and where they are now.
“Well, we’re uh, we’re in 2011. Today is my first day at the institute as a researcher, if you can believe that. We’re both twenty four.” He said, breaking eye contact with Martin and threaded their hands together. His skin temperature was hotter than normal as well. Martin doubted it was a fever.
“Oh, wow- uh, so I’m working in the library? And my Mother is still, uh, around, and- oh! Everyone is alive. Tim, Sasha-”
“And Gertrude.” Jon added. Right, Gertrude. Martin had never met her before Elias killed her, which wouldn’t be happening for another four years. But she- wait.
“So, she’s the Archivist? Is that going to be a problem?” Jon shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so. That’s the other thing, I, uh, don’t think I’m an avatar of the eye anymore? I mean, I hadn’t really been since Jonah’s ritual-” Jonah, right. Martin felt a sudden chill down his spine. “Wait, Jon- is he listening? Does he know?”
“No, he’s not watching. We aren’t even a thought in his mind now. It’s, hah, quite liberating. I’ll have to talk to him when I go to the Institute today, but he shouldn’t notice anything. He can’t see into my mind, and as long as I don’t Look at him, we should both be fine. Actually, it’s rather nice to know things he doesn’t.”
Martin chuckled a bit at that. It was rather nice, holding all the cards. Maybe this time they could do something about Jonah. Or at the very least, avoid him. Jon continued talking.
“I’m-I’m still the Archive, I know that. But when we were outside of time, after, ah,” Martin flinched, trying and failing to hold it in.
“I realized that there was something else, there with the fears. I hadn’t quite realized what I’d done in the moment, but when I reached out, something, uh, reached back. You remember what Peter said to you, in the panopticon, about the extinction? How it seeks to create a lifeless, fearless, world?”
His heart dropped, even as he nodded. Jon couldn’t be saying what he thought he was saying, right? Because if he was-
“I don’t think the extinction would’ve been able to manifest or escape with the other fears if I’d died. It’s here because of me, it- it is me. This is all my fault, again-”
“Stop it, Jon. Sure, you made the decision to kill the world and that’s what brought the extinction here. The time travel weirdness isn’t your fault, I think? But don’t use not dying as an excuse to blame yourself.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He said softly. Martin threaded one of his hands into his short hair, marveling at how soft and unsullied by the apocalypse it was. Jon leaned into his touch. “The extinction represents the end of all fear. What better to embody that than a collection of humanity’s terror? And I think that the apocalypse actually helped it along, a bit. It was a Terrible Change, one that supplied massive amounts of fear in people that this was the true end of their species. Even as we journeyed towards the panopticon, it drew closer to the edges of the world. Waiting for someone-some thing to take that final step and wrench it into our reality. And that was me. The extinction doesn’t really have the need to make avatars, so that’s not really what I am? You could say that I am its direct manifestation. And even the Archive doesn’t know what that means. It can’t wait to find out.”
“What are we going to do, then?” Martin surprised himself by asking. Obviously he was reeling at this information, that Jon is somehow the extinction (the very thing Peter was trying to get him to stop- and to think he’d almost succeeded) and that this would change everything. Jon looked surprised as well. Shocked, even.
“I-what?”
“Well, we’re in this together- and don’t even try to argue with me. Yes, we fought at the end. We’ll talk about that later. But here, now? It’s just us and we could quite literally do anything. We could fuck off and live in Scotland again if we really wanted since we aren’t bound to the institute. We hold all of the cards here. They don’t even know that the rituals don’t work! Jonah hasn’t even planned his final ritual yet. He doesn’t know that we even exist, not really. The web hasn’t even factored us into any grand plans yet- we can plan! We can determine the outcome, this time. So what are we going to do?” Jon smiled at him, and cupped his face in his strangely warm hands.
“I love you so much,” He said, then kissed him soundly. Martin kissed back. He had missed this, the feeling of having time. The feeling of being in control. He would have to unpack that later. Now, he was busy making out with his partner, whose lips tasted of smoke.
“We need to deal with the Web first, I think. Hilltop road is its escape plan, and we should cut that off before it widens further. And we should see if there’s anything else like it. Also, we need to make sure Gertrude and Elias don’t find out anything. I’m convinced that Gertrude would immediately shoot me, and Elias would change his plans and we’d have to start over.” Jon said after they broke apart.
“I agree. I hate to say it, but I don’t actually think Elias is much of a threat right now? Gertrude is the one I’m worried about. I wish we knew someone in the archives that could keep an eye on-”
“Gerry!” Jon exclaimed suddenly. Martin looked at him, not quite catching his meaning. “Gerard Keay! He’s still alive and I'm pretty sure he'll seek out Gertrude soon. His cancer didn't kill him until 2014- there’s a chance he could live this time. I think he’d be a good ally if we get to him before she does, you would’ve liked him if you met him when I did.”
“We do need allies, yeah. Do you think he’d even be willing to go against the Institute?”
“Maybe. We can deal with that situation later. It’s really amazing to have time,” Jon said, a pleased look on his face. Martin knew it well. That face meant scheming. He loved scheming. Scheming with Jon was even better than scheming alone.
“We shouldn’t tell Tim and Sasha though. At least, not for a while. At least Gerard- Gerry- knows what he’s dealing with. And I don’t think we can afford to spend time bringing people up to speed.”
“You’re right. The less people know for now, the better. And, um- how should we manage our relationship? We didn’t even meet this early, before?” That was a good point.
“Let’s keep it secret for now. No point giving anyone something to use against us. We can still talk at work, but only if we have reason to? But I’d like it if we could stay together outside of that. I mean,” Jon laughed a little, eyes crinkling in a smile.
“I would like nothing more than to move in with you. My place?” Martin sighed in relief. He was glad he didn’t have to express to Jon his aversion to this place ever since he was trapped there.
“Yeah, please. We can do that after work, it’s nearly seven. You have to meet with Elias, right?”
“I do. It’ll be ok as long as I don’t Look at him. He shouldn’t expect anything. I think I'll try and channel my old personality and not get too close to anyone.”
“I’ll be the same, awkward tea serving co worker who lied on his CV, then?”
“I suppose. I need to go back to my flat for some clothes, want to come with? We could grab a coffee before going in.” Martin couldn’t resist kissing him again.
“I’d like nothing more.”
-
“Sasha, you’ll never guess what I heard from Rosie!” Sasha James looked up from her morning coffee to see David entering the office, excitement written all over his face. He didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing. “We got a new hire, we’re finally filling in Hannah’s desk! Apparently his name’s Jonathan, he’s meeting with Elias now.” She was glad they had finally replaced Hannah, she had transferred to the library months ago. It had been a little stressful in research with only her and David, they really needed the extra hands.
“Really? It’s about time, I thought they’d never give us a replacement.”
“I know!” David sat down at his desk, placing his mug down on the cluttered surface. It was one of the community ones from the break room, the one that read ‘my favorite coworker is the coffee maker’. Sasha tried not to feel offended.
“I assume you heard we got a new hire in your morning gossip session with Rosie?” He said, sitting at his desk and pulling a truly absurd amount of files from his bag. It was only a Tuesday and Sasha was ready to be done. Her own pile of statements and files had only grown over the weekend. She really was glad they had another person, and hoped he was half decent at his job. There was a knock at the office door as David opened his mouth to respond. It was Rosie. She was wearing a very stylish blazer, Sasha noted. She’d have to ask where she got it.
“Good morning Sasha, David. I just wanted to pop in and introduce you to your new teammate. This is Jonathan Sims.” She said cheerily (perhaps too cheerily, Sasha thought. It was only 9 in the morning). Behind her was a thin man dressed in slacks and a comfortable looking green sweater. He had short hair with a few more gray hairs than she would have expected on someone with such a young face. He carried a few files and a travel mug of tea in his hands. The mug had a cow printed on it, it was rather cute. Sasha looked up and met his eyes. They were very bright green, almost unnaturally so. It was quite startling, how much they stood out against his brown skin and plain features. He was staring at her. Sasha did not like how intense that gaze was, but it only lasted for a moment before he stepped forward and offered his free hand to shake. She took it, noticing absently that his skin was really very warm.
“Sasha James,” She said, offering a small smile that he returned hesitantly.
“Jon,” He said, shaking hands with David in turn, who was staring at him as well. Maybe he was also a bit unsettled by the eyes? They weren’t quite unnatural, but definitely a little intense. She resolved to ask him later. For now, they had a new coworker to show around.
“Thanks, Rosie! We’ll make sure he gets settled in.” David said, smiling at her. She nodded, and stepped out of the research department, lingering by the door. Jon set his few possessions down on the empty desk, which was directly next to Sasha’s workspace. She could see him taking in her workspace. The photos of her and Tim (her flatmate/ best friend/ object of most of her pining) posing at London Pride, the small collection of research themed mugs (yes, she was proud of the collection. Particularly the one reading ‘I am an academic researcher, of course I’m crazy. Do you think a sane person would do this job?’) and the mess of files and statements scattered across the surface. His expression almost seemed sad, for a moment. Then it was back to the same inscrutable face he’d been wearing the whole time.
“So, Jon, you can work with me on the first couple assignments just to get a flow going. There’s a few tricks you should know for these follow ups.” David said, perching on the edge of his desk. Jon nodded, those piercing eyes fixed on him.
“We’re actually a bit swamped with statements right now, so hopefully by the end of the week we can have you working on your own.”
“Great. I have worked a research job before, I’m sure I can handle it.” Jon said. So much for a team player, Sasha thought. He already seemed like someone who would frown upon their daily gossip sessions. David smiled awkwardly, and handed him a folder. Rosie spoke up from her position in the entryway.
“...Right. Anyway, why don’t I show you to the library and the Archives? You can shadow me for a couple hours to get started.” She said. Jon said nothing, and simply stood to follow Rosie out of the room. Sasha exchanged a grimace with David as the door shut behind them.
“Charming fellow.” He said from behind his computer. Sasha agreed with that sentiment. Hopefully Jon wouldn’t be too much of a pain to work with. She wasn’t normally one to make snap judgements, but he didn’t make a very good first impression.
“Yeah. Anyway, did you hear about Hannah and Tom? They totally have a thing going on.”
-
Sasha’s opinion of Jon did not improve over the next few weeks. True to his word, he had begun doing his own research after the first day. Granted, his work was pretty decent, but his chilly personality left a lot to be desired. Not to mention the lack of interest in speaking to her or either of the others. His desk remained mostly bare of personal effects, so maybe he was just a private person. He rarely left his desk, not even for lunch. He always had the same thermos of tea, but not much else. The other personal items could be counted on one hand. There was the cow thermos, a battered pocket watch that appeared to be broken, a pack of cigarettes (he was a smoker, apparently. Nasty habit, that), and a notebook that appeared to have been dropped in a puddle of motor oil.
She had flipped through it once, in a moment of weakness and curiosity when Jon had stepped out of the room. The stained pages were almost unreadable, but it seemed to be a book of handwritten poetry. It was decidedly not Jon’s handwriting, and she had guiltily placed it back on his desk after this discovery.
Once, on that Thursday, she saw him speak to someone who wasn’t in his department. She and Jon were in the library to pick up an order of reference books. Martin, one of the younger library staff members, had approached with the stack of heavy texts. Sasha had never really spoken to Martin before. He was a tall (and generally quite large) man who never seemed to take up as much space as he should. He had blond hair and glasses, and that was the only noticeable thing about him. He had handed over the books with a smile, and Jon had complimented his jumper. It was a soft gray thing, with a pride pin on the lapel. Martin had awkwardly thanked him, and that was it. Sasha was beginning to wonder if the icy exterior was covering extreme amounts of social anxiety.
The next Monday, Sasha was called down to the archives. She felt a gnawing apprehension as she descended the stairs to the basement. The archives had a bit of a reputation for being spooky (as much as one could have such a reputation in an Institute dedicated to the supernatural) and Gertrude had seemed nice enough the previous times they’d spoken, but it was still a little unsettling. She had no assistants, so it was just Gertrude down there all the time. She was waiting in the head Archivist’s office. Sasha knocked on the door, and pushed it open after she heard ‘come in’. There was a stack of files on Gertrude’s desk, which the older woman gestured to as Sasha entered.
“I’d like your team to do some follow up on these statements, please. Normally I wouldn’t request this specifically, but it is rather urgent I’m afraid. I would like this done as soon as possible”
Sasha was confused, but took the stack of statements. Gertrude said nothing else, which was clearly a dismissal. She left the archives, feeling uncomfortably as though she was being watched. The feeling faded as she climbed the stairs to the rest of the Institute. Definitely spooky.
David was having some sort of argument with Jon as she stepped back into the research offices. He was gesturing wildly, and Jon was looking mildly bemused as he listened.
“You can’t possibly think that’s okay, Jon! What is wrong with you” Uh oh, Sasha was clearly interrupting something.
“What’s going on here?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“Jon thinks it’s a normal and not psychopathic thing to reheat his tea in the microwave, with the tea bag still in it! Sasha, please back me up here!” She laughed, relieved. Thank God it wasn’t anything more than usual office teasing. Although-
“Sorry, Jon, that is a bit of a crime against all tea. Listen, I got some statements that the Archives want us to follow up on.” At this, Jon’s head snapped to her. He stared at the files in her arms with those attentive, wide eyes. Sasha shivered at that look. He was so intense about the strangest things.
“Why? That seems a bit unusual” David added, frowning.
“Don’t know. I haven’t looked at them yet, though. There’s four, so we can each take one.” She handed them out, and Jon took the folder as if it might bite him. David immediately opened his.
“This is from 1986, how exactly am I supposed to get a follow up on this- oh, man” He cut off, eyes widening as he continued to read. Sasha opened her own folder. It was a statement given in 2009 by a marine biologist studying commercial fishing waste. They had apparently had an encounter with something while out on a research vessel in the pacific ocean.
Sasha looked up, and saw that Jon was reading the statement with a look of surprise on his face. Then, oddly, he glanced down at his pocket watch. It was still broken, the time reading 11:58 as always. Sasha followed his gaze to the clock on the wall, and froze. It read the same time. Unmoving hands pointed resolutely to two minutes of 12. She looked back to Jon, who was staring at her as if waiting for her reaction. Sasha was suddenly reminded of the Doomsday clock that scientists liked to bring up every couple years. That couldn’t be right, though. Last she’d heard, it had been six minutes to midnight. She looked over at Jon, who had the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he read through the statement. She wondered if he had thought the same thing as her. She hoped not. It wasn’t the kind of thing that should bring a smile to your face.