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Tripping through Helen's door as her laughter echoed in his ears hadn't been a good way to start any morning, but Jon had honestly grown somewhat bored of all the nonsense that had been happening to him lately.
Or as bored as one could be about such things, he supposed.
But there had been something... off about the world he'd been thrown into, in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on and it was honestly close to driving him mad. The streets of London he'd sped through on his way to this version of the Magnus Institute had seemed unchanged in any way outside the ordinary. Similarly, there was nothing blatantly different about the institute itself or any of the coworkers he passed and thoroughly ignored as he made his way to the bowels of the archive. And it was his office still, when he arrived, name plate and all, though he could tell immediately that it wasn't his.
His stacks of specific statements were nowhere to be seen, his 'conspiracy board' as Melanie had so uncharitably dubbed it was absent as well. In fact, if it hadn't been for his name being printed on the plaque outside, he wouldn't have believed this was his space at all, as neat and tidy as it was. It almost looked... like a brand new office, save for the picture of a very fluffy cat in a frame, a single cup full of an assortment of pens, all black, and a second picture of a man-
"Can I help you?" Said a voice from behind him, very audibly annoyed.
Jon turned, and it felt very much like he'd suddenly come face-to-face with a mirror from two years ago- scarless, his hair less grey and cut short, dressed properly rather than the frumpy clothes Jon had been forced to borrow from Georgie. The other blinked at him, and he blinked in turn, all thoughts of trying to figure out what the hell was going on gone from his mind in the face of the person who he'd been not even that long ago.
He had the stray picture from a few years ago to compare how much he'd changed but this- was stark in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. It had never been more apparent what the institute had taken from him, what he'd foolishly given in an attempt to suss out answers.
He'd never been much for regret but he could feel it now, choking him.
"What the hell-" his Other said, and Jon was briefly very relieved that he didn't have a cup of tea in hand otherwise he might've dropped it and splashed the both of them. Jon tried for a smile that likely came out as more of a grimace.
"Hello, Jon. I need your help."
It wasn't hard to prove his identity, even to a man who'd been so staunchly skeptical about everything outside the mundane, but... well, some things were clearly unchanged. Mr. Spider being a very convincing shared trauma of theirs.
It was utterly bizarre to see himself like this- because there were definitely differences somewhere between them, very obvious ones, such as... well the Other Jon didn't seem nearly as tired as Jon himself had felt for the past... however long ago uni had been, he supposed. he'd thrown himself into the workforce with abandon, taking pride in how hardworking he was compared to everyone else, but. This Jon seemed well rested, relaxed in a way that Jon himself would never be able to describe to another person.
Even as they pulled different statements from the overblown pile that had been left behind, though smaller to Jon's in his own world, to try and figure out how to get him back home, the differences were weighing on him.
"So Helen isn't... She's not the one with the door here?" Jon asked, and he could already feel a stress headache beginning to gear up right behind his eyes from how much he was squinting, but he couldn't help it much. It all felt so unreal to him, so unbelievable.
"No, I believe... Well, it's Michael Shelly, isn't it? Gertrude's assistant?" The Other Jon said, looking over two of his own statements that concerned the Door.
"Hmm. Did. Did Helen make it back alright then?" Jon said softly, half to himself even as the Other Jon glanced his way. "That's good I suppose. Shame about Michael, but..."
"Well... We have statements about Michael." The Other Jon said, clearly his throat as he sifted through the rest of the pile again, a stack of Michael sightings, as well as any other mentions of a Yellow Door or unending corridors. Nothing thus far had yielded much, but that was a frustration Jon had become very familiar with over the past two years. "No one here has ever had a personal encounter with him, or, er, it, I suppose? But these are only the statements we've managed to sort through, so... I supposed I could ask the others when they arrive if they have anything in particular."
Jon looked up, his heart seizing, because-
"The others- Tim and Sasha, do you mean?" Jon asked, and the Other looked confused for a moment before nodding. And- God, there was that regret again, all the things he couldn't afford to focus on welling up inside of him like bile. But he shoved the snarled knot of emotions down again, fighting to regain control of his voice. "Right, well. I suppose it would be better if they didn't see me here. If it gets too out of hand then it'll be fine, but uh... well."
"Best to keep level heads to work." The Other Jon said, and from his mouth it sounded like something he was reciting. "That'll work- I honestly can't imagine we'll get much work with those three hovering over our shoulders the whole time. And you mentioned it was important to get you back as soon as possible, so-"
"Very important." Jon reiterated with a tight nod.
The others arrived in short order within the hour, and the Other Jon went out to greet them personally, which- well, Jon couldn't keep himself from pressing his ear to the wall, trying to convince himself that it was to make sure his Other wasn't planning on betraying him, but...
He had to press a hand over his mouth at the sound of Tim's voice, still colored with that old familiar cheer and enthusiasm, the unfamiliar voice of what could've only been Sasha, the real Sasha, the timidity of Martin as well, still so nervous. His eyes blurred with tears he couldn't fight, even as he did his best to hide them when his Other came back inside the office, now with a cup of tea in hand. Jon's hands were shaking, but hidden under the over-long sleeves of Georgie's jumper as he shuffled through more statements, reading as much as he could with his eyes so unbearably useless.
The worked in semi-silence for the rest of the day, though strangely the Other Jon excused himself for the entirety of a lunch break that he himself declined in favor of continuing to work. He brought Jon back a half a sandwich that he accepted with a light bit a prodding from his Other, which-
"Do you often take lunch breaks, then?" Jon couldn't help but ask before he took a begrudging bite of the sandwich, roast beef on rye with lettuce and just the slightest amount of mayonnaise, just the way he liked it. He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, but the Other just blinked at him, confusion written across his features.
"Yes? I supposed I didn't when I first joined the institute, but Elias was really-"
"Elias?" Jon interrupted, his voice harsh and God, he'd been so wrapped up in trying to find a way back he forgot about the very real threat just above them all. The Other looked again startled at Jon's tone, and fuck he had no idea who Elias really was, somehow. None of them did. He reached out to take himself by the shoulders, digging his fingers in while the Other tried to back away. "Don't- don't trust Elias. I don't know what his game is here, but- Oh God, maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe Elias had something to do with-"
"What on earth are you talking about?" The Other Jon demanded, wrenching his arms free from Jon's grasp.
"Elias! Elias Bouchard, head of this god forsaken institute!" Jon whispered bitterly, just barely keeping his voice from rising higher and alerting the others just outside the door. "He's- I don't know what he's playing at here, but you can't trust him here, he's-"
"Right here, thank you Jon." Said that smarmy voice from the doorway, and both Jons turned to look at him, the Other with something close to relief and Jon with unbridled disgust. "If you could unhand... My Jon, I would appreciate that, please."
"He's not your anything." Jon sneered, but he did let go, only for his chest to lurch in fear as the Other inched closer to Elias, watching Jon with clear caution. "Don't-"
But the Other had one hand gently pressed against Elias's arm in what was clearly a familiar motion, looking up towards him with a slightly softening expression that made Jon's heart sink down to his toes, because surely not-
"Sorry, Elias." The Other offered quietly. "I would have told you sooner, but um-"
"I assumed this is the 'slight issue' you told me about during our lunch." Elias said evenly as he rested his own hand on the small of the Other Jon's back, not taking his eyes off Jon, who was frozen in a quiet kind of despair. "I see."
Elias sighed in a resigned kind of way that immediately had Jon bristling, his whole body tense as he waited for the worst to come, but Elias just looked at him with weary eyes.
"Well I suppose we can just leave you like this, lord knows what havoc you could wreck together." It was said with the cadence of a joke, but Jon was alright trying to his best to get his mind back online to pick apart everything Elias was saying, trying to comprehend what those casual touches meant, even if he knew himself well enough to know he would only touch a partner with so much familiarly. "I suppose this is enough of an emergency to warrant a day off. Let's go."
"Go where?" Jon asked, still reeling with the combined punches of so much at once. Because sure, it made a sort of logical sense that if Elias was still pulling a long con to get trust- and if he himself had no reason to be suspicious of ill intent. But even then it was still a massive workplace violation, surely-
"To our house?" Elias said, and Jon froze again because 'our' and 'house', and all of the bloody implications of that. He looked for a ring on their hands, and there wasn't one, which was only partly a relief because it was still suddenly so much worse than he'd thought-
"No, no, no, we're not going anywhere." Jon snarled, and the look the Other Jon was giving him made him feel like some kind of rabid beast, but the opinion of some foolish, naive, easily manipulated version of himself couldn’t matter here, and didn’t. The looks that he'd received from Tim and Martin had been a hell in and of itself, this was nothing. It had to be. "I'm most certainly not going anywhere with either of you, you- You may have tricked him into thinking you're some kind of person worthy of partnership, but I'm not so easily fooled, Elias Bouchard."
Elias was watching him, with a sort of pity that burned about every inch of his skin and Jon wanted nothing to do with either of them if this is what their help meant-
"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice." he said mildly, his voice low and subdued and Jon was right back up again, every internal alarm he had ringing with clear warning. Because he knew what Elias was; a predator to be feared and avoided, a snake that wormed his way into your mind and made you doubt everything you even knew and he was doing right now. Jon turned to the Other, who didn't even seem to realize what was happening, and Jon suddenly felt woefully, infuriatingly out of his element. "You want to... return to wherever you're from? I sincerely doubt that these statements will do you much good in that regard."
"Why? Have you hidden the ones I need? Have you destroyed them? Somehow convinced Michael to leave me alone so I'll be stuck here for whatever plan you have next?" Jon spat again, and Elias let a small smile lift the corner of his mouth. "What could you possibly offer me to convince me you're deserving of my trust?"
"To be completely honest, Jon. I was hoping I could offer you a shower and a bed to sleep in. You look dreadful."
Unfortunately Elias was correct. Jon didn't have much of a choice.
Not unless he wanted to again risk life and limp in the search of more answers, and... The scar across his palm itched and his knee was already throbbing steadily with how much he'd stood on it without his cane already. He wasn't so thick headed that he couldn't learn some lessons when they were so... lasting. Except for this one, it seemed. But Elias had always excelled in somehow being one step ahead of everything, despite Jon's best efforts.
The car they were sat in was a sleek shiny thing, though Jon wasn't familiar enough with cars to put a name to it, it was definitely a far cry from a common taxi. The seats wrapped around the inside of the car like the limos Jon had seen, and now the three of them were sat somewhat awkwardly across from each other, and though Elias was right there, Jon couldn't stop the way his eyes lingered on the Other Jon. It wasn't... or rather, it wouldn't be blatant to anyone who didn't know Jon that well. It had been a startling thing to realize it once he did, harkening back to his brief history with Georgie, but...
Jon was not someone who would ever be described as touchy.
Except when it came to his partners.
Which, Elias was, to this Other Jon. And that meant that Jon was touching Elias. Not in any way that was too much, even while in a relationship Jon hadn't been one for public displays, but... The Other's hand was still resting on Elias's arm, he was leaning a little into Elias's space. They weren't sitting so close they were touching, but it was a near thing that Jon couldn't help but track like a predator himself. Or perhaps more accurately, a horrified onlooker watching a mouse wander into the mouth of a hungry snake.
He refrained from saying anything, even as the Other's eyes watched him with a similar intensity. He didn't know how to express himself in a way that would be able to... what? Convince himself? It sounded like a trivially easy task, and yet- Well, he supposed he'd always been stubborn, and the worst of the scars on Jon were more from... Happenstance or a consequence of his own actions rather than anything Elias had done specifically. Jon knew he had to be involved, in some way, but just hearsay wouldn't be enough.
Not when This Elias had already won so much of his Other's trust. His trust, really.
Because he was a fool who could indeed be won over, apparently.
The entire car ride to Elias and the Other's house was silent, no one saying a word until they pulled in front of a modest townhouse that didn't seem to suit Elias at all, though Jon could definitely see what his Other had seen in the place, albeit begrudgingly. It was far enough away from the main hustle and bustle of London that they likely wouldn't be too bothered with the people wandering outside, but also a reasonable distance from the institute proper that it could be walked if one wanted to.
And once they were ushered inside by Elias, only being shot the slightest of looks from the driver as Jon exited, he could very much tell it was a house that he lived in. There were things that spoke of what was most likely Elias's influence, such as the neat and professional-looking photographs hanging on the walls, the matching couch and loveseat combo pushed up against the far wall. But tossed across the top of the couch was Jon's first lumpy attempt at knitting he decided was passable enough to keep, and there were pictures of Georgie and the Admiral mixed into the professional portraits of him and Elias, of Tim, Sasha, and Martin at what looked like his own birthday party.
It was undeniably Jon's.
It was sickening to look at.
Something hot and persistent pressed up from his chest, but he shoved it down.
The second the door closed behind them a very fluffy white cat with bright blue eyes came trotting towards the three of them, its tail held high and a little mrp escaping its mouth. It sniffed delicately at Jon's ankles before winding its way around his legs and Jon stupidly blinked down at the cat, at a loss for words.
"Oh, Major." The Other Jon greeted quietly, glancing at Jon before he leaned down to scoop up the cat who immediately wriggled until it had its white little paws resting on The Other's shoulder, purring loud enough for all of them to hear it. Elias offered the cat some brief scritches before he stepped further into the room, hesitating before he turned back to the two of them.
"Uh, why don't you make some tea for our... guest, Jon." He said, with a kind of gentleness that felt wrong in that voice, out of that mouth. Jon watched the whole way, until he disappeared behind a turn of the hallway, and The Other Jon cleared his throat, looking a little awkward.
"Would you like to hold her while I put the kettle on?" He offered after a moment's hesitation, and Jon's mind had already conceived of the offer as a trick even if the mere idea was ridiculous. He kept his mouth shut, looking down at the pleased face of the cat now kneading biscuits into the Other Jon's shoulder, and mutely shook his head. He very much wanted to- there was something about that cat that reminded him very much of the Admiral, which, he supposed, was one of the reasons this Jon had gotten her to begin with.
But just being here felt like a trap, like he was some helpless fly that had gotten tangled in a spider's web all over again, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to escape this time around.
He glanced back towards the door, and when he looked back at the Other he had already wandered into the modest kitchen space, made homey by the pans hanging on the wall, too new to be used over-much, and the few knick-knacks scattered amongst the other kitchenware, some familiar and some not. Unsettlingly there were even some matching-pair tchotchkes, made for a couple and he could help but look the Other over again.
But he seemed as at-home as Jon ever could, gently setting down Major on the floor before going through the motions of making tea. The brand was unfamiliar, some dark box that looked far too expensive for Jon to have ever had a reason to purchase on his own, and something in his chest curdled.
The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the consistent ticking of a clock hung up on the wall and the shuffling noises of the Other Jon clicking on the stove and drawing out three mugs. Jon could tell that the Other was looking at him, every now and again, and it was clear from his expression that he was burning with as many questions as Jon himself was.
Then Jon grew too impatient to deal with the mundanity of manners and broke the silence.
"How long?"
"Pardon?"
"How long have you... been together."
"About three years now." The Other Jon answered immediately, no hesitation in his voice. "Our anniversary is coming up soon, actually."
"How did it happen?" Jon pressed, his eyes narrowing.
"I... The same as any other relationship, I suppose? We discussed some things about work, I offered some suggestions that were meant to improve the workplace, and then we started talking about other things... It wasn't an especially quick process, but uh, well. I was rather smitten with him after only a few months of conversing." The Other Jon shrugged, looking a little embarrassed at the admittance, but he continued nonetheless. "He asked me on a date first, I didn't realize it was meant as such until about part way through dinner, and we... made it official from there, I supposed. We only started living together about a year ago."
And the Other was correct in saying it was similar to other relationships; even to Jon's ears it felt identical to every other story he'd stumbled across through meaningless small talk. Hell, if it hadn't been Elias, Jon wouldn't have much of a reason to be suspicious at all, considering how unburdened with encounters this Other seemed to be.
That irrational jealousy was rising in his chest again as he watched the Other Jon, his back straight, his shoulders relaxed, even while Jon himself was forced to lean more and more of his weight against the counter as time ticked on, his worm-eaten knee giving out from under him without the aid of his cane. He knew his hair was a wreck where it hung limply down his back, and he probably looked ridiculous, frankly, with his oversized sweater and skirt combination.
He wrapped one arm around himself, the heat of jealousy undercut with something else, something dark and cloying lying just under the surface.
"Perhaps it could be Elias that's one of the differences here, compared to your uh, your reality, I suppose." The other Jon posited, his voice gruff with clear discomfort as he deposited the tea bags into each mug. He squeezed a little lemon wedge into two cups, added sugar right behind it then stirred, all with a focus that implied he was trying hard not to make eye contact with Jon. "I don't know what your Elias is like, but-"
"He's an evil man." Jon hissed, because it was true, because he needed this Other to believe it. Because if he truly believed that of Elias than he was already too gone for anyone else, but perhaps if the word came out of his mouth-
"Well, this one isn't." The Other Jon said sharply, setting down the silver stirring spoon with a clack that was perhaps a bit more forceful than strictly necessary. "And I don't particularly care for all these baseless accusations being thrown his way."
"Has there ever been anything weird about Elias, things that he did or said that you couldn't explain?" Jon pressed, because he couldn't budge here, not when letting the Other Jon live this lie was hanging over his head, not when he could so easily prevent this Jon from suffering all the horrors he had, but just convincing him that Elias couldn't be trusted. He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to, and that disgusted feeling in his chest was just egging him on further. "Anything that might seem odd for any other person?"
"No." The Other said shortly.
"Oh, but how did Elias know to find me in your office then?" Jon pressed, the accusation in his voice starker than it probably should've been, but there it was. "You don't find that suspicious at all?"
The Other looked abruptly sheepish, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "I uh, I supposed I don't excel in lying specifically, and well... Elias knows me, us? Fairly well now. And well. It wasn't like we were particularly quiet."
Jon could find anything to say to that, even as the thought alone was... horrifying. Like everything else here was, it seemed. The thought of being known by Elias, even more than he already had been before. Known intimately in a way that a relationship inherently required, known in a way that simply living together required.
He tried to tell himself it wasn't likely that it would help Elias much, as anyone would be able to tell how different he and the Other were from each other, but the rest of him wallowed in quiet dread. He wasn't so different as to be unrecognizable, and if Jon could see that, then Elias certainly did as well. Always one step ahead somehow.
God. He'd lost this game before it'd even truly started, hadn't he?
There was a cat winding around his legs again, and that felt like a lie, every picture hanging pristine on the wall was its own farce, and the Elias was reemerging from the hallway, his eyes fixed right on Jon, and he didn't know if he'd ever felt so helpless in his life.
But Elias reached past him, taking the offered mug of tea from the Other Jon with a slight smile that brought out the crows feet framing those eyes, his normally neat hair a little mussed now, strands hanging loosely around his face. His blazer was missing and his button up shirt was untucked, and it was the most... non-perfect Jon had ever seen Elias. Melanie would have taken the nearby pair of kitchen scissors from the stand on the counter and run them through Elias's neck if she'd been here, but Jon could only stand, struck by how... nonthreatening even those slight changes seemed to have made him.
There was a hot mug of tea pressed into his own hands and he jumped at the sensation, even as the Other Jon and Elias moved to take a seat on the couch, too close but not touching, watching Jon out of the corner of their eyes.
He... wasn't sure what to do here.
The spite and disgust he'd felt only a moment ago had drained away upon Elias's reappearance, and he only felt hollow now, looking at the two of them.
"Jon." Elias said after a pause, his voice still... near unrecognizable with its softness. "Did you want to take a shower first? I know... m- this Jon would most likely be burning with questions already-"
"He's already asked plenty." The Other Jon said bitterly, and Jon had never felt so small.
"No." Jon said, watching as Elias rubbed a hand up the Other's back, and shifting at the phantom sensation on his own skin. He sat on one of the dining room chairs instead, quietly sighing in relief as he did. "I just- I want to get back. You said the statements in the institute proper wouldn't help me?"
"Well, with the mess that Gertrude left-" Elias started blandly, and the Other Jon grimaced in what was clear commiseration but Jon himself could only feel enraged. He'd heard that damn excuse so many times before, he didn't need to hear it again from a man who was apparently so different from the one he knew. "Jon, look. The archives is still very much a mess that can't be sorted through in anything close to a timely manner. I figured... Well, I suppose I thought if you could explain to me what exactly happened, I might be able to better help you find what it is you're looking for. Or perhaps come up with some sort of plan."
"Because you're so knowledgeable about everything surrounding the institute, is that it?" Jon muttered bitterly, but he supposed in this specific way it wouldn't hurt to let Elias know. It was likely he already knew anyways, and was just putting up a front for the Other Jon to buy into. And even to an outside observer, it was pretty convincing, Jon could give Elias that. The difference was that Jon had seen who this man really was.
"I mean, yes." Elias said, giving a slight chuckle. "I've been the head of the Magnus institute for a number of years now, and you don't last that long without learning a few things."
And even despite himself, despite everything he knew about the man in front of him, there was a part of Jon that wanted to tell his story to Elias.
So he did, as concisely and with as much detail as he could manage he described being lured down into the tunnels below the institute, to which the Other Jon looked baffled while Elias simply looked mildly intrigued. Jon explained, briefly, that in his world it was no longer Michael on the other side of the Yellow Door, but a woman named Helen whom it'd consumed perhaps a year or so prior, right in front of Jon. And then how she had claimed to 'find something very interesting' that it wished to show him, and then before he'd even realized he was already inside it's hallways, where he wandered for a time before being spat out here.
"I supposed the 'something interesting' was in fact this world specifically, but I couldn't explain why, other than... It seems as though you two are in a relationship, for some reason." Jon finished, trying to keep the snide tone from his voice but not quite managing. The Other Jon looked vaguely horrified when he'd finished, almost like he was seeing a ghost before him rather than Jon, and Elias's face was carefully blank. "Though why it thought this place was so special is beyond me."
"You went through the door... and survived?" The Other Jon asked, clearly overcome with a sense of shock and horror, and in a motion that seemed almost instinctively, Elias had a hand on the Other Jon's back again, rubbing up and down soothingly. There was something in Jon himself that burned at the sight, some emotion that left his face feeling hot and his chest tight, and he swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.
Elias looked pained, and it was strange to see so much emotion on his face. The most that Jon could ever remember seeing was muted pride or light annoyance, both of which had been followed with horrific discoveries of some kind. He could feel himself tensing already, even as this Elias kept his gaze slightly off center, which was something the Elias Jon knew would have never done.
"I'm afraid that your... Helen, was it? Is a mystery even to me." Elias said and it was his own kind of slow, like a guilty man being marched to the gallows. "When it comes to the Yellow Door, there isn't much of a pattern to follow, but that's very much the point of it, is to make no sense. The most we might be able to do here is to... arrange a meeting with our Yellow Door, but from what we all seemed to realize is that Michael would be less than willing to let you out at all, let alone to your world."
Which Jon had to begrudgingly admit was true.
Michael had harbored a soft spot for the archival assistants due to its own unfortunate transformation, but even then it'd had its limits. And it seemed especially eager to do away with Jon at what it perceived to be the opportune moment, and though Jon lacked some common sense when it came to his own safety, that was an avenue he was confident would yield nothing but his own demise.
Which left... Staying here until Helen either got bored or he finally saw whatever she'd wanted him to see. If she even came back at all.
Unfortunately for Jon Elias seemed to reach this conclusion at about the same time as he had, or at least visibly so. It suddenly occurred to Jon just how much danger he was in here, in Elias's home, standing in front of him while the Other sat at his side like an obedient pet. Disgust roiled in Jon's stomach, as well as that smothering heat, and he felt himself stand up and step back before he even realized what he was doing.
"Jon-" Elias started, and then paused when the Other turned towards him. "Hm. Jon, dear, would you mind giving us just a moment."
"Why?" The Other asked, suspicion finally in his voice, though he was looking rather oddly at Jon. Jon was still a little caught on the name 'dear,' and how... strange it sounded, coming out of Elias's mouth. Being directed towards Jon, even if it wasn't him.
"Please, Jon, just give me a moment." Elias pressed as Jon was suddenly struck with the feeling of intruding on them, even if the idea was frankly ridiculous. He was stuck staring at the gentle hold Elias's hands had on the Other's upper arms, his eyes fixed right to the Other's as he quietly pleaded with him. "Just a moment. I promise I'll explain everything after, just... I need you to trust me for a moment, Jon."
"I do." The Other said, no hesitation in his voice, and there was something in Jon that seemed to shift in that moment, some part of him shifting, breaking under the weight of the heat in his chest, and his eyes itched.
And he'd never hated himself more than in that moment, realizing what that heat was.
Because he wanted that so bad, wanted someone to trust, wanted someone to lean on, to have a home with. A lingering hope that he'd had in the back of his mind for years, one that had faded to nearly nothing in the face of all the monster and invasions and world-ending threats. He wanted this, and where before it had been alongside an amorphous blob of no identity or origin, forced blank because the truth was too ugly to face, all he could see was Elias pressing hands to the Other's skin, and feeling some kind of phantom haunt him in its place.
He let himself be led, a little too numb to protest as he was ushered out on a balcony. The cool night air did something for his nerves, the lights of the city just far enough away to make it a beautiful view rather than a blinding one, and Jon felt a shiver rock him. He could feel that snarl of emotions lodge itself in his chest as he turned to Elias again, and he tried to summon that vitriol back, that fear and anger.
"Are you going to kill me now?" Jon asked, proud of how steady his voice was. "Or are you going to use me for your plan instead? Finish turning me into some kind of monster, just like you always planned?"
"No." Elias said, and it was firm with his clear conviction, and that made Jon pause, that hurt and wanting welling in his chest all over again. "I wasn't planning on using you. I- genuinely want to help, even if you don't seem to believe me."
"You have to have some idea what happened." Jon hissed, spreading his arms wide to show off all the pain he'd suffered, and Elias, to his credit, didn't turn away. It felt cruel in the same way it felt like a victory, like an admittance of wrongdoing, even if it wasn't this man who'd been behind it all. "You know what it would take, to change me like this. I can feel it, all of the time. Even when I try to convince myself it's just my mind playing tricks on me, post-traumatic stress disorder perhaps, anything. But it's real. And y- and he did this to me. And now you want me to offer you some amount of trust, when you could so easily do the same to him."
He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to either. Elias's eyes trailed behind Jon back into the house before they flicked back to Jon, a resigned look in his eyes.
"Jon would indeed be an excellent Archivist, if given the opportunity and the right push." Elias said with some kind of air of defeat, and Jon himself could only feel a sense of grotesque victory at the admission. Elias reached out as if to put a hand on Jon's shoulder and seemed to think better of it and withdrew before Jon had a chance to. "But Jon. I think the main difference here that you don't seem to grasp is I decided against using my Jon for that purpose. I... I can't say what happened to you, or him, or what may or may not have happened between you, but this is the only difference I can think of."
Jon was stunned silent for a moment, his arm wrapped tight around his stomach as he stared at Elias.
"...Why?" He asked finally, and he hated how weak his voice suddenly sounded, all the fury and weight behind it gone in an instant. "Why wouldn't..."
He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, but he didn't need to, not with this man. This Elias. Because he had apparently decided that Jon was more valuable as an Archivist than a... What? A partner? A friend? A Fiancee? Because of all the similarities between them, he and the Other Jon were clearly different people here, based on where they were alone. Jon was... slowly, steadily turning into some kind of monster, and the Other had a house and a partner and a cat and... Everything Jon could ever think to want, really.
All the things he didn't even know he wanted.
But he knew now.
Elias's expression crumpled a bit, and even that little bit of vulnerability felt so alien to Jon, even as he couldn't help but lean into it a little more. Practicality demanded distance, but that little ache sitting heavy in his chest wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that this could be his.
"I... Honestly couldn't say for sure. I suppose, well, one of the reasons I ultimately decided to not construe the means of his apotheosis was because... I fell in love."
It was such an absurd sentiment that even in the throws of muted despair Jon couldn't help the snort that escaped him, and he rubbed at his face blearily, turning away from Elias entirely.
"Look, Jon, I know how that sounds. I do. But it's the truth." Elias insisted, and he was reaching out again, slowly, as if he was afraid he might scare Jon. And maybe it was that weight of wanting dragging him down, but Jon couldn't make himself pull away, didn't truly want to. Elias's hands circled Jon's thin wrists gently, too warm as he pried Jon's arms away from his middle, and then he was nothing but warm as Elias enveloped him in a hug.
It took a moment for Jon to get his brain back in working order long enough to respond, his loose fists resting lightly against Elias's back before they curled into the fabric, clinging back as Jon mustered everything he had in him not to burst into tears right then and there.
It didn't last nearly long enough before Elias was pulling away, looking down at Jon with such an open and honest expression that Jon felt he was choking on the sincerity a bit.
"And if your Elias is even a little bit like me-" Elias cupped one hand over Jon's cheek and his touch was warm beyond measure. It felt like a brand against Jon's skin, just as searing as Jude's touch had been, and yet still so achingly gentle. "It's not too late for you two to try either. You're- you're very easy to love Jon."
Oh.
Well.
It felt very much like a dam had burst as the first sob hitched in his chest, and then another as he eyes burned with tears, and he brought his hands up to quickly wipe them away. But Elias just tucked Jon back against his chest with all the tenderness Jon had never known, allowing the soft folds of his shirt to soak up the worst of Jon's mess as he shuddered against Elias.
There was a loud crash from inside and the two of them broke away almost immediately, the interruption feeling very much like someone had poured a bucket of cold water on his head and he curled into himself again, swallowing roughly as he pressed his sleeves to his eyes.
"Just give me a moment, Jon, I'll be right back." Elias said, and then he was gone, not even his warmth left behind. Jon could hear the distant murmurings of voices from the kitchen, too far away to be made out, and abruptly Jon felt a bone-deep exhaustion overcome him. He halfheartedly swiped at his eyes again, frustrated with himself as he turned towards the railing, gripping the metal bars with everything he had, trying to wrestle his emotions into something more manageable.
The metal was cold under his hands. He shivered as a breeze blew in from the west.
He felt empty.
But he supposed he should be used to the feeling already, considering everything else. He'd thought it was better to be alone in the beginning, and then when he finally wanted the company he'd already shoved everyone around him so far away he doubted he had the slightest hope of regaining any kind of ground with them now. He thought of Tim and his unending anger, at Martin's slow withdrawal, with Melanie's... everything really.
Really he didn't have anything waiting back in his world, not anymore.
He'd blamed it primarily on everything else, on the world crashing down around them, but...
The Other Jon still had his coworkers, probably even considered them friends considering all the pictures hung up along the walls inside the house. He had a partner and a home and a cat, and- a life.
All because Elias Bouchard had fallen in love with him, apparently.
He huffed a bitter laugh, pressing his sleeve to his mouth, that burning need to know rearing its head. Because it wasn't as though this was an unexplainable phenomenon. The answers were all right here, laid out before him if only he asked. There had to be some rhyme or reason to it, something he could emulate back in his world if he ever did manage to return. Even if it meant-
He swallowed thickly around the thought of his own Elias, and forced himself to think of the one that was just inside, his warmth had he held Jon close.
That Elias was still a possibility, if Jon knew the best ways to bring him out. It might be enough to make everything else worth it.
He turned, reaching out to grasp the handle of the yellow door, and practically tumbling inside. Only to stop short when he was faced with the dull brick walls and dirt floor of the tunnels beneath the institute. His stomach dropped out from under him, every limb on him going cold and tinglingly numb in an instant, and it felt like his chest was on the verge of bursting.
Right.
Of course.
"Well, that was certainly fun. You both fumbled the bag so hard in this one thread." Helen said, its voice echoing and shivering and amused as it became something close to material. It leaned itself against one of the brick walls, the arch of the ceiling making it loom over him.. "The second I found that place I just knew I had to share. Hope you can understand, Jon."
"Was it that entertaining?" Jon said, and he could hear the exhaustion in his own voice.
"Oh yes!" It squealed joyously, viciously, the hiss of it ringing in Jon's ears. "You don't cry very often Jon, it was quite a delightful surprise."
"I'm sure Melanie would love to hear all about it." Jon said, and his voice sounded distant to his own ears now, as he looked to where the door had once stood. It was nothing but a drab and crumbling brick wall now, not a speck of burning yellow left behind. His chest hurt and he hated that he knew why now.
"You know what? I'm sure she would!" Helen cheered, her teeth clacking loudly together. Her nails did the same as she folded her hands together, the too long knuckles kinking at odd angles that hurt to look at. "What a wonderful idea Jon. Well, I best be off then."
Jon forced himself to not look back at the ominous creaking of the Yellow Door, digging his fingernails into the meat of his arm with the effort. The weight that had settled over him the second he'd stepped back through the door felt both familiar and cloying somehow, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach again, turning fully away from where Helen had disappeared.
He thought of the home he'd left behind, of the cat he'd shared, of the life he'd built. He felt cold in a way that defied the jumper he wore, and he wrapped his arms around himself, looking at the cold stone ceilings of the tunnels.
'In love,' the other Elias had said. He'd claimed it was likely not too late to try. Jon closed his eyes.
He almost wished he could go back to that.
But he supposed he would have to make do with what he had here.