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Jon wakes up.
Wakes up?
He expects the information to be dumped in his mind of what exactly happened, but it doesn’t. Everything feels fuzzy and far removed.
The tunnels, he’s in the tunnels? He was going to kill Jonah, what?
He almost doesn’t register the prickle of his skin, the feeling of being watched. He opens his eyes (were they closed or just unfocused?), but is only relieved by what he sees. It’s Martin who’s staring at him. He has a carefully blank look on his face.
Jon feels a jolt of guilt.
It wasn’t the plan, he knows it wasn’t what they decided, but the idea of letting them out and doing it again and again and again.
He can't live with that.
“What happened?" his voice is raspy from sleep(?).
Martin… startles, as if he hadn’t expected Jon to talk. He gazes down at him and tilts his head. His lips curl into an uncertain smile. It twitches on his face, like he can’t help it.
“You attempted to kill the pupil of the eye to replace it,” Martin says, and he sounds… bizarrely eager to let Jon know.
“But I didn’t manage to,” Jon guesses. At least he didn't remember doing it, and it’s something he would try with all his heart not to forget. He’s not bloodthirsty, he’s not a murderer, but just… an end. Just an end to the suffering Jonah Magnus has done to himself and to the people Jon has no right to call friends.
“You were Seen,” Martin explains. “Protected,” he adds after a beat. Softer, as if he wants Jon to understand.
Jon’s face falls. “But then… I suppose you didn’t even need me. You just… you just doomed another universe.” Jon laughs helplessly. He looks away and his heart is sore. He does not feel betrayed, it wouldn’t be fair if he did. It’s just guilt. More terrible guilt. How many more people does he get to add to the lives he’s ruined? Infinite he supposes.
God, the grief will never go away, will it? How can it?
Martin gasps.
Jon quickly looks up for the danger, but Martin is still looking at him. He had expected an argument, or an outburst. Martin tries not to lock away things inside anymore, and Jon is grateful for that. He's glad that Martin tells him what he was thinking, what he's feeling. For a man that knows literally everything he knows he can be quite dense.
And... he's not perfect at it, but neither is Jon, and they... they'll get better at it together.
He expects Martin to tell him this had been his decision. That at least this isn't Jon’s fault, even though he would be wrong.
But he didn't. He didn't say anything.
He just, stands there. His cheeks have gone a little red, but otherwise…
“What is it?”
Something’s wrong.
“You were…” Martin tries to explain. “It felt strong…” he stands silently for a moment. Why is he just standing like that? “No.”
“Sorry?”
“No, the Mother’s plan fell through." Why does he look so smug all of the sudden? What's happened?
Jon, usually, tries to avoid looking in Martin’s eyes, not for shame, but for the effect his stare can have. Martin says he doesn’t mind, that it’s kind of… pleasant in a terrifying way? But still, it’s better not to pin someone for so long, despite his own desire to run his eyes along Martin’s face, just for the joy of it (and to categorise and imprint and know).
He looks in his eyes now.
For a moment, he's frightened that he might see steel grey instead of watery light blue.
But his eyes are … they’re… they’re the right colour, but nothing else is right about them.
“Martin? Wh-what do you mean? What's happened?”
Martin continues. “The closer you came the more I wanted. I wanted you at My Centre in your rightful place. It felt like hunger,” Martin crouches down and Jon flinches back. No. No. This isn’t real.
“It wasn’t hunger,” Martin says. He looks perplexed. The expression isn’t one that Martin would make. It’s instinctive, there’s no soft inquisitiveness or sarcasm or frustration. “Knowing is not understanding. I Knew you were trying to kill Us. I Knew Martin Blackwood wanted to separate you from Us. I Knew either of these scenarios would be intolerable. Something worse than a gnawing hunger. This want. This gnaw.”
“Who are you?” Jon demands angrily. “What are you?” he pushes himself to his feet. He doesn’t know whether to fight or run. Fighting might hurt Martin, despite the thing not being Martin. Running meant losing Martin. He's frozen, his stance defensive.
The thing shivers at the compulsion, but continues Its explanations.
“It could not be understood by Me, but you are a part of Me and I am a part of All of Us, and in you first was a thread of the Mother’s design. The Mother Understands where I cannot. I pulled the thread, but still could not Understand. I needed a vessel that could.”
“No,” Jon presses his hand to his mouth, eyes blurring with tears of anger and loss and hadn’t It taken enough? Hadn't he lost enough?
“Your Eyes are pulled to this vessel constantly. It is often by your side, it is one of my lesser eyes and already belongs to Me.”
It's a trick. This is the Web, or the Stranger, or the Spiral, this is not—
“This level. So small with such grand understandings. Stimuli woven into pattern. It’s too much and not enough… but seeing you my Archivist is … satisfying. Satiating.” And It's expression is so close to being Martin's.
That almost familiar mien of affection.
“You’re… you’re saying you’re the… Ceaseless Watcher?” Jon chokes out.
It tilts Martin’s head. “That is a name. This is a sliver of Our whole. A piece with the capacity to understand.” It pauses. “Yes,” It decides.
“Get out. Get out of him!” Jon demands. “Get out of him!”
“Why?”
“Why? You—you’ve stolen his body! He—I can’t. I can’t lose him.”
“He is here,” It says, that confused expression back.
“No he isn’t!” Jon denies. “You—you’re suppressing him. You’re hurting him.”
“He is not stimulated by pain.”
“I’ll—I’ll free you. Martin I promise. I’ll free you.”
“I am not restrained.”
“I’m not talking to you!” Jon’s voice goes dangerously low.
“You are,” the Eye argues.
“Can he hear me?” Jon asks.
“Yes,” the Beholding answers.
Jon jerks in frustration, realising the alien being inside his boyfriend once again assumes he’s talking about It.
Martin’s eyes flutter without really closing. The Ceaseless Watcher moans. “That’s satisfying.”
“What is?” Jon snapped.
“The thing you’re doing,” It answers. It readily answers all of Jon’s questions, without hesitation. “It’s satiating.”
“Fuck,” Jon’s voice cracks. “Where are the others? Melanie, Georgie?”
“Categorised and sorted,” the Ceaseless Watcher answers promptly. It pauses, “I did not want them near you.” This fact seems to bother it. Like It didn’t understand Its own motivations.
“What does that mean? Categorised and sorted?” Jon trembles.
“King, Melanie Hannah. Significant impulses toward violence. Significant fear of loss. Formerly of the Eye. Rejected Seeing, rejected Violence. Nutrients for Desolation.”
“No,” Jon whispers.
“Barker, Georgina Emily. No significant impulses. No significant fears. No significant source of nutrients. Given to Desolation.”
“Why?”
“To stimulate the fear of Melanie King. Recategorised as fuel source.”
“Jesus Christ.” Jon held a hand to his mouth, shaking. It's all gone wrong. It's gone wrong again. It's his fault again.
“Hussain, Basira. Significant impulses toward chasing. Significant fear of loneliness. Of the Eye. Accepted the Eye and Hunt in equal measures, but access reassigned and restricted. Assigned domain to Hunt in and feed the Lonely.”
“Let them go.”
“I do not want them near you,” the Ceaseless Watcher repeats. It sounds petulant. “They damage you.”
“Damage!?” Jon laughs in outrage. “Damage!? What about Jonah Magnus? What about HIS damage to me?”
Martin’s eyes fall to the hand Jon gestures with so furiously. The one that still bears a horrible burn scar that will never truly fade. It's eyes trail back up to Jon's face, and just stares for awhile.
“I do not categorise Jonah Magnus’ actions as damaging,” It decides.
“Why are you—what do you want? Why are you here? Why have you done this to Martin? What do you want from me? I gave you the world? I gave you the fucking world, wasn't that enough for you?!”
“Understanding,” It says. “Blackwood, Martin Significant impulses toward Watching and significant impulses towards loneliness. Beloved by my Archivist. Pressed into the heart of my Archive. Categorised as useful to Our Understanding.”
“Your understanding.” Jon repeats bitterly. “To what end?”
“Sims, Jonathan. The Archivist.” It says no more than that.
“You want to understand me?” Jon scoffs. “I’ve told you.”
“Knowing is not Understanding.”
“Fuck you,” Jon snarls. “Let them go. Let him go!”
“No,” It’s voice deepens and there is power behind It now. Jon flinches back. He feels pressure radiating out from Martin’s eyes and he takes a step away against his will, pressing his back against the tunnel wall. “Ask something else.”
Jon wonders if this is what it feels like to be affected by his compulsions. A pull of fear and dread that will not be released until the words are spoken aloud. “Why are we in the tunnels?” It’s not something he cares about as much as everything else, but it’s the only question that the hook is willing to grab and tug out of him.
The Ceaseless Watcher relaxes in Martin’s body.
“Our bodies were overwhelmed by power at My Awakening. I should be significantly more prepared when next we step out. We were brought here by Jonah Magnus, as he was caught in the power surge, but buffered by it in the Eye of the storm.”
“Hello, Jon.”
Jon gasps, he whirls around. Jonah is at the end of the tunnel, smiling. He has to have been there the whole time. “So good to See you.”
“You!” Jon’s rage burns him. This is the man that used him to destroy the world. Who let everyone that Jon came close to suffer in the most horrible ways imaginable. Jon moves towards him, but there’s enough space for Jonah to talk before he can get his hands around Jonah’s throat.
“If you kill me, you’ll never get him back.”
“You’re lying.”
But he's stopped. He hates that he's stopped, he hates that Jonah has snared him again with only one sentence.
Jonah smiles at him patiently.
“Martin is what I was, only,” he sucks in a breath of consideration. “More fully formed. He’s been shaped into a perfect vessel to house our god, Jon. He’s divine now.”
Jon feels sick. “Does he… is he still there?”
“If it’s similar to what I was experiencing, yes. He hasn’t been hollowed out. Just the … gaps in him have been filled.”
Jon turnes to the Eye. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” the Cease Watcher answers, watching them keenly, happy enough to let them speak with each other.
Jon turns back to Jonah. “Then… he’s aware.”
“Oh yes,” Jonah sighs longingly. “He’s aware of Everything.”
Jon’s heart fell. “Which means he’s not really aware of anything.”
Jonah offers a closed mouth smile and shrugs. “If it makes you feel any better it feels splendid. Ah, no I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Jon moves forward again.
“Now Jon,” Jonah says, there’s a thread of it, fear and Jon wants to chase it. The tunnels muffle everything, but it’s not gone. “You don’t have the stomach for it, do you? Killing me with your bare hands?”
“I didn’t have the stomach for destroying billions of lives, and yet, here we are, Magnus,” Jon says, voice low. “I think I’ll manage.”
Jonah keeps talking. “I want to be what Martin has been forced to be. You will never find a stronger alternative other than yourself, and the Ceaseless Watcher will no longer make you Its vessel.”
“What?” Jon stops again. He turns. “Is that-fuck!" Jon flinches. The Eye has been moving with him and is right at his side. He takes a few steps away. "I-I’m powerful enough to hold you? Isn’t that what you wanted? I—you can… if that’s what it takes to free him, you can have me—”
“Jonah Magnus is correct.” The Eye tries to move beside him again. “I will not take you as my earthly vessel.”
“Why not?” Jon asks.
“Understanding.”
Jon turns to Jonah. “Why not?”
Jonah moans and disgust runs down Jon’s spine.
Magnus at least looks a little embarrassed by it. He clears his throat and gives an awkward smile. “You-you really have grown. Ehem. Well, Jon, It has already told you. It wants you. It wants to not just Know you, but to Understand you. It can’t understand you if it’s inside of you. Too much of It and too little of you to observe at that distance.”
“Then…” he turns to the Ceaseless Watcher. “Then you should… go back into Jonah.”
It doesn’t speak.
“Try asking It, Jon,” Jonah prompts.
Jon grits his teeth. “What?”
“Questions will get you farther in a conversation with It. It can’t help but Answer and it will Ask, but … nuance is a bit beyond It. Implying something won't really register until It gets the hang of understanding things.”
“Why don’t you go back to Jonah?” Jon asks, his anger bubbling.
The Eye sighs softly, but not at the question. It’s like Its taking a moment to enjoy sunshine on its skin.
“I Know now,” and it’s so fucking pleased with Itself. “You must be watched and kept and understood. This must be done at a close distance. Aside from this, you would have Us End. Martin Blackwood would have Us separated. Neither scenario is satisfying. Inhabiting you brings End, inhabiting Jonah Magnus brings separation. Martin Blackwood ensures My Will.”
“I took the liberty to explain things,” Jonah says smugly. “Unless you have it in you to push a blade through Martin’s heart like you were planning for mine.”
He can't. He can't. He can't.
“He… he wouldn’t want this,” Jon says, staring at Martin’s eyes that were not his eyes.
“Oh trust me, he does. He is experiencing lifetimes worth of knowledge in moments. He had his disloyalties, but Martin is still one of ours. Knowing him as I do I'm sure there is a part of him singularly focused on you. Every detail of you. There’s always at least a little attention afforded you where the Eye is concerned, so he’s probably not even missing you. Not even lonely. Besides, the personification of the Eye has made him as invulnerable to Terminus as you are.”
“I'm not invulnerable to the End-why am I not trying to kill you again?”
“I’m your only alternative.”
“You told It you aren’t!”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Jon,” Jonah sighs. “I don’t plan to help in your endeavours. You may not believe me when I say this, but I am extremely fond of you. How could I not be when you were so utterly perfect? You preformed so beautifully. Sometimes it felt like all the whining and tears were for show with how eagerly you moved in exactly the right direction. I had hoped for your sake you might come to like it. Everything I know of you tells me you could, that you probably already do. So, no. I will not be aiding you, but I am the only alternative vessel you have besides yourself. If you do figure it out, I’ll be happy to oblige as long as you're not holding a knife at the same time.”
The hatred and despair Jon feels is blinding.
The Ceaseless Watcher’s moaning startles both of them.
“What’s that?” It asks softly, It’s tone so close to Martin’s softness that Jon can't stand it.
“What?” Jon turns to It furiously.
“It’s different, but strong. Powerful. Satiating.”
Jon feels Jonah’s eyes on them.
“Do you perhaps mean the Archivist’s emotions?” Jonah suggests genially. “I would guess it would be anger.”
“His fear is so bright, this is bright too, but different, good. I like it,” the Eye decides and tries to move closer. Jon, realising he's sandwiched between Jonah and the Eye takes a step to the left so they're all in an equal triangle where he can keep his eyes on both of them.
"Do you have more different emotions?" The Eye asks. It tries to step closer again. Jon shifts back. Martin’s face frowns. It looks to Jonah.
“The Archivist is not acting as he usually does. Why is that?”
“Isn’t he?” Jonah chuckles, and he looks so bloody amused talking to his idiot god. “I think this is rather par for the course actually, but then, my relationship with Jon is quite complex.”
“It really isn’t,” Jon sneers. “You’re an evil bastard who manipulated me and I was manipulated. I hate you. It’s very simple.”
Jonah only looks at him fondly. “Jon, the only thing I ever did was give you choices, you were the one that made those choices. Hah, you know Jon, I have missed our conversations. Basira just wasn’t the same. Too focused on goals, her curiosity leashed by logic. I called her Detective because all she focused on was puzzle pieces. A good acolyte of the Eye, but it was the hunt that clouded her understanding, not her burning need to know.”
“Stop talking,” Jon orders.
“No,” the Ceaseless Watcher says. “We would travel, hold hands. Make expressions. Ruffle our clothing together.”
The last thing puts a bemused look on Jonah’s face. “Oh,” he realises. “Hugging?” he guesses and glances to Jon in amusement. “They did do that quite a bit. Making up for lost time I suppose.”
“In close proximity,” the Eye summarizes, then It pointedly looks at Jon who continues to keep his distance.
“You aren’t Martin!” Jon hisses. “You aren’t him! I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”
“You are a part of me,” It counteres. “And I am everywhere. But,” It adds. “I am also Just Here. You are Just There. You’re too far from Me.”
“I think It wants to hold your hand,” Jonah says, watching with absolute fascination. “It’s rather sweet if you think about it.”
“Christ!” Jon trembles. Martin’s face staring at him, pouting like a child might. Why? Why this?
It steps closer again, now Jon is forced to back up towards Jonah to avoid it.
Martin’s face has gone red with frustration. Its eyes are pinned to him and Jon can physically feel the power of that stare.
“You’re being rather unfair I think,” Jonah comments unhelpfully.
Jon shoots a glare at him angrily.
“It’s only just come to Understand things, Jon,” Jonah hums. “It doesn’t get it. It doesn’t know why you don’t consider it Martin. It doesn’t understand why you would reject it when everything you’ve ever done has been an embrace.”
“Rejection,” the Ceaseless Watcher looks to Jonah now, excited. “Yes. Why? Why does my Archivist reject me?”
“I’m not yours.”
“Because others have made him think that he should,” Jonah replies.
“No, that isn’t it!” Jon argues even as the expression on Martin’s face brightens.
“They’ve been categorised and sorted,” It informs Jonah.
“But they still have an influence on your Archivist,” Jonah replies, ignoring Jon’s protests in favour of answering the god. “And, I’ll add for your benefit Jon, as a sign of our… let’s call it truce. Ceaseless Watcher, even if you destroyed them now, they would still affect him, and in fact destroying them would deepen his rejection of you.”
The Eye looks very frustrated at this news. "I don't Understand."
"But you know it as true," Jonah says patiently.
"Yes," It grunts unhappily.
“We don’t have a truce,” Jon yells. He won't do this. Not with Jonah. Not after everything.
“You know Jon, you did plan to murder me, and although this situation is not of my making, I could make this so much harder on you. Could tell it ways it might win you over that you would NOT enjoy. I could let it Know how to emulate Martin’s personality. I could tell it how hugs work. Instead I’m being very helpful, and I want you to acknowledge that. ”
"How do hugs work?" It asks. They both ignore it. It pouts.
They stare at each other. Jon feels the Eye watching them silently. Taking in their animosity, but not really reacting to it.
Jon looks away first, as much as a being like him can anyway.
“Fine,” he says sarcastically. “Thank you so much for not making it even more terrible than it already is!”
“Of course, Jon,” Jonah says magnanimously. “Anything for you.”
Jon's look can literally kill, yet Magnus is still alive.
“Well then, now that all that’s settled, shall we?” Jonah suggests.
“Shall we what?” Jon responds woodenly.
“Get out of these tunnels! I don’t know about you Jon, but I feel rather cut off in here.”
I wish to See,” the Eye announces eagerly.
“I thought You might." Jonah smiles, far too cheerful, Jon realises what's happening.
“Do you think I’m going to go with you?”
“I don’t see that you have much of a choice,” Jonah replies. “Unless you want to lose track of Martin, you’ll have to stick close to our Patron.”
“And you?” Jon presses. “Wouldn’t you rather sit around and watch it all from afar?”
“Of course,” Jonah answers. “But, as you know, I have had occasion to get my hands dirty in the past. This is a good thing, Jon. It will give us a chance to catch up a bit.”
“You have watched every single second of what I’ve been up to.” Jon ground his teeth. “And you’ve been floating in ecstasy for the last—however long it’s been.”
Beholding opens Martin’s mouth.
“I don’t need to know,” Jon says quickly.
“I didn’t pay attention to all of it though! And there WAS a curious little fortnight out of my Sight. Come now, Jon.” His voice becomes gentle. “There are no more secrets between us. You Know everything now. Everything I held back, all the goals I kept from you, they’re laid bare and we are equals now.”
Jon snorts meanly. “You must hate that.”
“Not at all,” Jonah denies. “It’s rather nice actually, having someone who understands it all, start to finish. Who moved in step with me, even when unaware of it. Flawlessly, I might add. I couldn't have picked a better dance partner.”
Jon is too tried to hear this, and he knows as soon as he’s out of the tunnels he’ll feel better, and the pounding headache will go away, and he’ll be able to think clearly.
Think of a way to get Martin free.
“Right.” He gives up and starts moving toward the tunnel entrance. He startles when the Eye catches his hand.
Despite taking over, It seems to have retained Martin’s stealth.
He tries to pull his hand away, but the Ceaseless Watcher holds it tightly.
“This is how we travel,” It says stubbornly.
Then it reaches out and grabs Jonah’s hand before he can get ahead of them. Even Jonah looks a bit surprised by that.
“Well, alright?” He doesn’t seem to know what to say. The Eye starts walking, tugging them both forward.
Jonah gets over his surprise and chuckles.
“What?” Jon asks flatly.
“It’s all very Wizard of Oz, isn’t it?”
“I don’t remember the alien god possessing one of their bodies, or the Wicked Witch of the West joining their party,” Jon mutters.
“Watch yourself, Dorothy,” Jonah replies smugly, “You might grow to like the Wicked Witch.”
“The Wizard of Oz is a 1939 American musical fantasy film produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM). Based on the 1900 novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. It was primarily directed by Victor Fleming, who left production to take over the troubled Gone with the Wind. It stars Judy Garland—” the Ceaseless Watcher babbled as they moved out of the tunnels, hand in hand.
The ruined hellscape stretches before them.
“Ah!” Jonah sighs in contentment. “There really is no place like home.”