Chapter Text
Martin blinked open his eyes, letting the soft light coming through the blinds he had forgotten to close wash over him. He groaned as he pulled himself into a more comfortable position, his back didn’t like him very much.
Jon was still asleep. He decided to leave him be, for one of those rare moments he hadn’t woken up before Martin did.
For a heartbeat, he just stayed where he was. Letting himself rest for a bit longer. Letting himself remind himself that Jon was safe, and that no matter what happened, he’d try to keep it that way.
His heart ached, seeing him lying there. He really thought he had lost Jon. If Tim hadn’t been there to keep him from tearing himself apart, he wouldn’t have even been at his apartment when Jon came back.
He wasn’t sure what he’d even have done. Go outside and try to look for him, most likely. Even if he had no clue where to even start looking.
It had been Tim who insisted he should stay, in case Jon came back.
Despite everything, Tim was the one who had offered to go look, while Martin waited and called Basira. They had just made up their minds when they heard the sound of someone falling down the stairs.
He barely held it together as he saw Jon lying there, on the stairs near the bottom. A part of him had feared for the worst, until he saw Jon try to get up on his own.
His own body had moved without him planning to, taking the other into an embrace as soon as he could. Hearing him attempt to speak, even though he hadn’t understood him. Watching him lose consciousness almost immediately.
Jon had been much lighter than he could have ever thought. He guessed he wasn’t that heavy, he was a short and scrawny man after all, but it was quite concerning just how little effort picking him up was.
He had known Jon was a light eater, he had told him as much himself, but he thought he’d managed to convince Jon to eat a bit more since staying at his flat. Apparently, he might be mistaken. For a brief moment, Martin had wondered how much food really disappeared from the fridge when he was at work. He had pushed that thought away, decided to come back to that some other time. Holding Jon closer to him as he had walked back up the stairs.
Naturally, the first thing he did was bring him inside and put him on his bed. It was the only place he could think to put him, where he’d be comfortable and they could try to figure out what happened.
It was Tim who noticed Jon’s hand. Martin had been too busy looking for head injuries.
After treating it, and not finding anything else off, he had mostly just tried to calm himself down, while Tim waited on the other side of the door. They decided it might not be the best idea for him to be in view when Jon woke up. For both himself and Jon alike.
The rest of the evening hadn’t been better for him. There had been several moments he thought his heart had given up on him. He still hadn’t been able to process half the things Jon had told him.
His chest tightened as he watched him sleep. He couldn’t tell if the other man was dreaming or not. He still looked like the Jon he had met about 2 years ago. His hair was longer, and messier, and there were of course little scars all over his face and arms. But other than that, Jon still looked like just… Jon.
He sighed deeply. Would he even change visibly? Would there be a point at which Martin could see Jon was no longer the person he had fallen for?
He bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it was best for him to try and suppress these feelings. Jon was his boss, and apparently, turning into a monster. He cringed at himself for thinking of Jon like that. It wouldn’t happen, it was ridiculous to think it would. It shouldn’t happen.
He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. He needed to be there as a friend, the feelings would fade, eventually. He knew they wouldn’t. He had been telling himself the same lie since he had first felt his chest tighten at the sight of Jon. Since he had first heard all the awful things Jon had said about him to the recorder. Since Martin had gone home nearly in tears for several days in a row those first few months.
And yet, those feelings had only grown, making him want to understand Jon more, making him want to prove he wasn’t as harsh and heartless as he appeared to be. And he had been right, Jon had softened. He had let him into his life, and the feelings only grew.
He closed his eyes as he leaned back. “We’ll find a way to stop this.” He said, mostly to himself. We’ll figure out how to keep him human. And if not… if not I’ll…. He didn’t know. He hoped this could be reversed, he really did. But what if it couldn’t? Well, I’ll just have to learn to live with it.
He heard something stir behind him. He turned towards the noise. “Morning Tim.” He said softly as he got up from his spot. Making sure not to disturb Jon.
“Morning.” Tim replied from within the doorway of the bedroom, still sounding tired.
Martin made his way to the kettle, turning it on as he grabbed some cups. “Tea?” He asked behind him. Getting a noise that vaguely sounded like a “yes” in reply.
There was the sound of a chair being pulled as Tim sat down at the dinner table. “Do you want anything? I can cook some eggs, or make toast.” Martin turned towards the table, where Tim was sitting stiffly, before realising he had been asked a question, shaking his head in return.
“Thank you, but I’ll get something on my way to the institute.” Tim was staring almost absentmindedly in front of him.
“You are going to work then.” Martin asked after a few seconds, returning back to the kettle, which he hoped would be finished soon. The thought of going back to work after yesterday hadn’t even crossed his mind yet.
“Do I have a choice?” Tim responded in a bitter manner with a slight hint of annoyance seeping through his voice.
Martin just gave a soft gruff, pouring out the boiling water into a teapot, before adding the contents of his favourite morning blend.
After putting everything in a little tray, he went to join Tim at the table.
Tim looked at him with a raised brow. “You aren’t?” He asked.
Martin quickly glanced towards the direction of the sofa. “I’m not leaving him alone.” He said, quietly.
He had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to let Jon out of his sight, he’d likely just run off to visit that Michael person on his own. Which was something he wouldn’t allow himself to happen. He couldn’t allow Jon to endanger himself again. Not when there wasn’t anyone who could back him up.
Tim groaned as he dragged one of his hands over his face. Turning to face Martin after a brief moment of silence, the disbelief visible in his expression. “So you're really going through with this, then?”
Martin leaned back in his chair as he crossed his arms. Turning away from the other’s piercing eyes. “I want to help him. He needs help. Whatever this is, I don’t think Jon should go through it on his own.” He decided out loud. He didn’t care if Tim would judge him for it. Even he must realise they couldn’t leave Jon on his own in this state.
Tim took a deep breath. “I meant it. I’m not getting involved in this.” He said, voice stern.
Martin was about to jump in when Tim held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “But… I’m not stopping you. Just, take care of yourself. Okay? I know you, don’t let yourself get hurt because of him. It’s not worth it, Martin.” Tim’s voice softened near the end.
I'll decide what’s worth it, thank you. He thought bitterly. Though that thought was pushed back quickly. He knew Tim meant well.
Tim sipped from the tea he had given him, as he turned his gaze towards the still sleeping Jon. Martin followed it.
For a moment. Neither of them spoke.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be normal around him again.” Tim said suddenly. “I wish I didn’t hate him. That I could see what you see in him. But I can’t.”
Martin stayed quiet, as Tim seemed to shift in his chair.
“I tried, believe it or not. I wanted to forgive him, or at least give him a chance, but then…”
Martin remembered seeing the panic stricken anger flare up on Tim’s face after he got compelled. He wanted to point out Jon hadn’t meant to. That it was an accident. But he wasn’t sure that was what Tim needed to hear from him. So he stayed quiet.
As Jon finally gave a sign of life, Tim grew still. He heaved a sigh, and finished up his tea.
“I should go, before he wakes fully.” He said, as he got up. Martin approached the door, clicking the lock open. He had made a habit of locking it at night.
“I’ll see you around.” Martin said, while the other walked past him into the hallway. Stopping mid step.
“Martin. If anything happens. If he does something, or if you get hurt by one of those… people, please, call me.” He said people with such restraint, though Martin understood why. He himself wasn’t sure if these… conduits could still be considered people. But thinking that would mean Jon wasn’t a person anymore either. And that didn’t sit right with him.
“I will.” He promised. After a few more awkward heartbeats, and another rustling noise coming from the couch, Tim eventually started to make his way towards the staircase.
He watched him leave for a bit, before closing the door and going back into the kitchen. Deciding to cook himself some eggs, and a few extra in case Jon wanted them as well.
It took a while before Martin was sure Jon was awake. He had noticed pretty early on in his stay that sometimes, Jon would just, sit there, in silence. Staring at seemingly nothing in particular, yet somehow he still seemed aware of what was happening around him. He could never tell what he was thinking in those instances, as his expression was always blank, yet intense at the same time, whenever this happened. He tried not to be too creeped out by it.
Martin smiled at him, carrying a plate with eggs and toast, as well as a cup of tea (it was still warm, he checked). “I made you some breakfast, hope this is fine.”
Jon blinked, as if only just realising he was being talked to. “Oh, uh, thank you.” He reluctantly took the plate and set it on the side table, almost dropping it in the process when he tried to grab it with his bandaged up hand.
“I should take another look at that.” Martin said mostly to himself, as he went to get some extra supplies from the medicine cabinet. “Eat something while you’re waiting.” He called behind him, hoping Jon would listen.
He rummaged through it, he was sure there was still some bacitracin in there. It had been a while since he had to use it, but he was pretty certain that it was safe for wounds like this. When he finally found the tube, he gathered his supplies and went back, sitting down where he had sat last time he dressed the wound.
“How did you sleep?” He asked, trying to make some small talk. He wasn’t completely sure what had set off Jon’s panic yesterday, but he hoped talking to him would keep him calm.
“Well enough, not worse than any other night.” He shrugged, holding out his hand.
Martin carefully started pulling on the end of the bandage. “You didn’t feel any pain?” He kept his eyes focussed on Jon’s hand, making sure not to make this any more painful than it must already be.
“Not really.” Jon gave a sharp hiss as Martin accidentally brushed over a sensitive area.
“Sorry.” He said in a high pitched voice.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He said through gritted teeth. Martin took a shaky breath as he removed more of the bandage, making the wound visible.
His stomach churned, he had never been good with this sort of thing.
“It looks better than yesterday.” Jon commented. Martin nodded. It by no means looked healed, but he knew wounds. He had enough experience with those in the past. His mother’s conditions often caused her to get hurt as well. This wound should not look this good.
He had hoped he had imagined it yesterday evening. He had hoped the shock had made him think it looked a lot worse than it actually was. But he knew for sure that it didn’t look like this yesterday.
And it wasn’t like it was being treated by a professional, he only had basic treatments, nothing an injury of this magnitude should be able to heal. By all means, the wound should be looking worse. You don’t just… heal a burn like this without a medical professional!
He looked up at Jon, and could see that he too realised this was abnormal. For a moment, Martin just froze. Staring back down at the wound, taking a good look at it. Those blisters were definitely disappearing, and he could see scar tissue already forming near the edges of weirdly indented charred flesh. He was pretty sure said indent was also less big than yesterday.
“Does it feel any different?” Martin asked eventually. Jon considered the question for a moment. “It still hurts.” He answered eventually. “I can feel a sting in some of the places that I didn't have any feeling in yesterday.”
Martin looked back up at him. “There were parts of your hand you couldn’t feel?” He looked slightly concerned as Jon nodded.
“Still are, here.” He pointed towards the worst part of the wound. “I still can’t feel anything in this area.” He traced a line along the middle section of the indent. Then pointed towards a lower edge. “But this part stings a bit now, when it didn’t yesterday, so that’s good, right?” Martin thought for a moment.
He had taken First Aid classes years ago when he was fresh out of High School, in hopes of having a better chance at getting a job, and taking care of his mom. But he had never dealt with anything as severe as this.
“I think some of your nerve endings were destroyed.” He pursed his lips. “They might be trying to reform. It’s usually a slow and unpleasant process, I’m afraid.” He looked back down at the injury. “Or, it’s supposed to be at least.”
He sighed, and wondered briefly if the signs of Jon changing had been noticeable before. This must be a part of that process as well, right? People didn’t heal like this. “Are you sure Michael can help you?” he asked.
Jon shook his head. “I told you, it’s the only lead I have. I don’t know what he might know, or not know. I don’t know what he’d be willing to tell me.” Martin bit his upper lip as he considered that.
“We shouldn’t wait too long. You know where to find him?” He waited for Jon to respond.
“Yes, I think so. Jude told me where he apparently lives now.” Martin nodded, as he carefully worked in the bacitracin.
“Then we should start coming up with a plan.” He decided, quickly eyeing the barely touched breakfast before reapplying a fresh bandage. He heaved a sigh, he’ll get him to eat something later. It wasn’t the time to bring it up again.
Martin could hear his own heart beat in his ears as he parked his car in front of the small house. “This is the place?” He asked, looking sideways at Jon. Who nodded.
They were a few miles outside of London. Had just gone through a stretch of fields that seemed to go on for ages, with only the occasional farm house to break the scenery.
At some point, he started wondering if they somehow had entered some weird supernatural thing, and would never be able to leave those fields. But those fears subsided when he occasionally caught the sight of a car driving in the distance in his back view mirror. He was kind of surprised to see civilisation again after that.
Then his stupid mind started to worry that they were being followed. He had to remind himself that black was a very common car colour, and it drove far enough away from them that he couldn’t tell if it was the same car or not, most likely, it wasn’t of course. He hadn’t even seen it for the last few minutes of their journey. Besides, who could follow someone so far behind? He knew he was just a bit on edge, and imagining things.
Michael Crew lived at the edge of a town, only having one real neighbour it seemed. Not a lot of people were out on the streets today, it was a lot calmer than what he was used to. It sort of reminded him of his childhood home.
He didn’t remember much of it, they moved out of that house shortly after his father left them, but he had once lived in a town like this. Somehow, that made his chest ache.
He took a deep breath. “Well, let’s just get this over with.” He opened the car door and stepped out, Jon following shortly behind him. They hadn’t made much of “a plan”. Really, for the vast majority of their talk yesterday, Jon had insisted it wasn’t safe enough for Martin to come. When he finally realised talking him out of it wasn’t an option, he had reluctantly told him what he was going to do.
To Martin’s displeasure, it boiled down to “go talk to him” and “hope I don’t get hurt.” In the end, it appeared that was basically the best they could do. No further attempt to actually make a plan went anywhere. At least they were pretty sure getting burned wasn’t a concern this time.
“After you.” Martin said, as he stepped aside for Jon to pass. They had decided it might be best for him to do the talking. He was the one who was dealing with the whole avatar thing after all.
He watched as Jon rang the bell. A few minutes passed, Martin started to worry Michael wasn’t even home, and they had come all the way here for nothing. Then he heard a shuffle behind the door, and shortly after, a short man with a quite noticeable scar covering part of his face and neck stood in the now open entryway. A waft that smelled of Ozone followed shortly after, and he couldn’t help but suppress a shiver.
He regarded the two men for a moment, putting on a smile shortly after. “Good morning. What brings you here?”
Jon cleared his throat. “Uhm, Hello, good morning. We’re from the Magnus Institute, London. I was hoping we could have a… talk with you.”
The other man raised his eyebrow. “About what?” he asked casually. Michael seemed surprisingly unfazed, which somehow managed to make Martin even more nervous.
“Oh… nothing much, I- er… I just wanted to ask some questions.” Martin gave a small, nervous cough. He hoped Jon knew what he was doing, because Michael didn’t seem too pleased with that answer.
He briefly popped his head out the entry. “Is it just the two of you, then?” Jon gave a curt nod.
“Yes, it’s just us.” Martin added. He had planned to just let Jon do his thing, but looking at him, he could tell Jon was likely more nervous then he was. He was grabbing tightly onto the hoodie he had put on. And his voice cracked slightly when he spoke.
Michael looked straight at Martin, and seemed to think for a moment. Before putting that smile back on and stepping back. “Well then, can I offer you some tea? Kettle’s still warm.”
“That would be lovely.” Martin said as he heard Jon give a simple “No” for his answer. Michael’s smile slightly wavered again, as he let Martin and Jon inside.
“Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors.” Martin looked around him as he stepped inside, there was a step down he hadn’t seen, and he almost lost his balance. Martin walked forward as if nothing happened.
The house was… surprisingly homey. Not something he had expected from something that was supposed to be inhuman. Though he had to admit he didn’t know what to expect in the first place.
“Quite a cozy place you have.” Martin said as he looked into the living room, which had a few plants he noticed, as well as a nice looking couch with some very cute pillows on them.
Michael closed the door behind them. “Thank you,” He paused, looking at him with a questioning gaze.
“Oh, It’s Martin. Nice to meet you, Michael, right?” Martin held out his hand.
Michael tutted, taking a step towards him to give him a firm shake. “Please, call me Mike.” His hand felt kind of cold. It gave him slight goosebumps for some reason, but he tried to suppress his discomfort.
Martin turned towards Jon, trying to signal to him that he should probably introduce himself as well. Only to realise the other stood frozen in place. Staring at the space where Martin’s hand had met Mike’s. He saw Jon had held his injured hand close to him.
God, is that how he got burned? Coming to think of it, that indent did have the shape of a hand. A shiver went through his whole body. I need to be careful.
He cleared his throat as he realised no one was talking. “This is uh, Jon, by the way.” Mike nodded, leading them further into the house.
The kitchen had 2 entrances, the one they came through, and one that seemed to lead to the back door. A window located above the sink let in quite a bit of natural light, and there were some plants in hanging baskets near one of the corners.
“Why don’t you two get yourself comfortable. Is Black okay?” He met Martin’s eyes, and he smiled softly in response.
“Yeah, Black’s good.” He said, as he made his way to the chair facing the back of the house. Jon hadn’t made any intent of sitting down.
“You sure I can’t get you a cup of tea as well?” Mike asked with a nod in Jon’s direction, who finally seemed to snap out of it, and took the chair next to Martin.
“Uh, it-it’s fine, really.”
Mike shrugged, pausing for a moment. “Okay. You just seem a bit… jumpy, is all.” He turned his back towards them as he started preparing the tea.
“Oh, I just, er… Coming in I thought… It’s fine.” Martin looked towards Jon with what he was pretty sure was a very unhidden concerned expression.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispered.
Martin could understand Jon’s behaviour. The entire time they’d been there, he’d been feeling it too. A sense of wrongness, how everything seemed a bit bigger or further away than it should be. How Mike’s short hair seemed to move as if there was a light breeze. How Martin felt slightly dizzy for seemingly no reason at all. How that step at the front door seemed to be just a bit deeper than would be normal. Something in the back of his mind telling him to get away from there.
Things he was trying his hardest to ignore were there.
Jon loosely crossed his arms. “It’s fine.” He didn’t sound fine. Was it too late to turn back now?
Mike turned his attention back to them, giving Martin his cup. “Thank you.” He said with a smile he hoped didn’t appear to be too forced.
“Okay, what can I do for you?” He said, as he sat down on the opposite side of them, starting to stir into his own cup.
Jon shifted in his chair. “I’m from the Magnus Institute.” He started.
Martin decided to keep his mouth shut, Jon could handle this.
Mike just looked at him for a moment. “Oh, you, uh, yeah, you said.”
Martin looked down, pressing his lips together. Trying to keep his hand from tapping on the table. He decided to hold onto his cup instead. It was warm, and slightly comforting.
“I, er… I read… You feature in some of our statements.” Martin wasn’t sure where Jon was going with this. He could tell Mike wasn’t as interested in having this conversation as he was pretending to be. He took a sip from his tea, hoping it would help. It did, a tiny bit. Tasted quite good as well.
“Oh. Statements of what?” the other said, looking down at the cup in front of him.
“You… There was, there was a book? Er, two of them, at least. Er… Ex Altiora, The Boneturner’s Tale.” He paused. Martin really hoped Jon would get on with it, he didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed to be. And he was pretty sure now Mike wanted them there just as little. “You, uh, I think you threw a guy off a skyscraper in Paris.”
Mike briefly froze at that. Martin awkwardly smiled, he was pretty sure this wasn’t going the right way.
“Hmm. Last chance for that cup of tea.” Mike took the cup in front of him and held it up, offering it to Jon, who promptly ignored that offer.
Martin’s nerves got the better of him. “I’m sorry for my friend’s bluntness, the tea’s very good.” He quickly turned to Jon, praying he’d get the hint. “Jon, weren’t we here to ask a few things– “ Martin stopped in his tracks as his eyes wandered across Jon’s face..
“I…” Jon started. Martin realised Jon wasn’t looking at him, he wasn’t sure Jon was even listening to him. He stared at Mike with a weird look in his eyes, as if he was deciding on something.
He suddenly sat up straighter. “Where did you get that scar?” The question sounded heavy, somehow.
Martin stared at him “...What?” was all he managed to say.
On the other side of the table, Mike made a very long sigh. Whatever breeze had been stirring only around Mike suddenly picked up speed. He could hear it now, ringing through his ears, he could feel it. He closed his eyes against the sudden heavy wind that appeared to come out of nowhere.
He heard Mike say something, but couldn’t properly understand the words over the wind. And then, it was gone.
Reluctantly, Martin opened his eyes again, everything was completely normal, aside from one thing. Jon was grabbing onto his chair, as if it was the only thing that would be able to save him. He seemed to have trouble breathing.
“Jon?” he asked, but got no response. Martin got up and wanted to approach Jon, pull him out of it.
“Stay.” he heard Mike say, with a quiet threat. “He’s fine, for now.”
Martin froze mid step. “What did you do?” He asked, but his question got ignored. It was as if he wasn’t in the room at all, as Mike turned his full attention to Jon, and started talking to him.
He didn’t want to endanger Jon, so he did as he was told, and tried to just, focus on whatever Mike was saying to Jon. He came to understand Jon was experiencing the feeling of falling, without actually moving from that chair. He couldn’t talk, or move, could only try to listen to whatever Mike was telling him.
The words left Mike’s lips so easily, as he told them both about his scar, about how he became a part of this all, how he had chosen to give up his old life to become the thing he was now. Martin was sure now that Jon had compelled him to. Which was likely why he was being ignored.
He wanted to believe that Jon hadn’t meant to Ask, that he hadn’t meant to compel Mike. But he had seen the look on Jon’s face. It had almost seemed like hunger. His chest tightened at that thought. They needed to find a way to reverse this.
“Hm. You know, that was… that was nice. I’m not, not usually the sort for speeches. That was… pleasant change.” Mike said, after taking a deep breath.
He turned his gaze to Martin. “Sorry about that, needed him to shut up.” Mike leaned back into his chair, finishing up his tea.
Martin was still sort of overwhelmed with what just happened. He stared past Mike, and thought he saw a shadow fall over the window. But it passed as soon as it came.
He shook his head clear. “Are you… going to let Jon go?” He asked, as he looked at Jon, who was still gripping onto his chair.
Mike thought for a moment. “Yeah. Don’t feel like killing him.” He looked back at Martin. “You seemed to want to ask something though. So ask, now that he’s still incapable.”
Martin looked suspiciously at Mike. “Why?” he asked simply, deciding to add more when Mike returned him a questioning look. “Why let me ask a question and not him?”
He shrugged. “Why not? You weren’t rude, and you can’t force me to answer. You’re not like The Archivist. You’re just a human.”
Martin cringed at hearing Mike’s casual answer. Just a human. He was glad he was not one of them, but he was being compared to Jon here. So what, Jon wasn’t human?
He knew he had no right to get angry. He knew Jon was turning, and apparently a lot further along than he had thought, if he was already being classified as ‘Not a human’.
“Do so before I change my mind.” Mike said, snapping Martin back to the question at hand. He took one more glance at Jon.
“Can it be undone? The turning, I mean. Can… Can Jon go back to… To not being the Archivist?”
Mike surpassed a laugh. “You’re asking the wrong kind of guy.” He said. Martin wasn’t very happy with that answer.
After gathering himself, he continued. “I suppose it’s not impossible. Though I’d assume that if ‘your friend’ really wanted to stop this process, he’d have to completely disengage with The Eye.” He scoffed at that last remark. As if there was some joke there.
“Well, question time’s over. Off you go, then.” Jon gasped for air, as he tried to say something. Martin rushed to his side.
“God, are you okay?” He asked, allowing all the worry he had been suppressing since Mike froze Jon to fall over him.
“I’m fine.” He said with a raspy voice. Turning back to Mike, who was not looking too pleased when Jon tried talking to him again.
“Archivist, take my mercy and leave. You have touched something few ever walk away from.” His gaze was piercing, until it seemed to focus on something behind them.
He could see his gaze turn from surprise to confusion, to some sort of terror.
Martin started to get up and turn towards whatever Mike had seen just as he heard the loud bang. Not even a heartbeat later, a sharp pain shot through his left inner shoulder, roughly at the height Mike’s head had been before he got up. He didn’t know what had happened, only felt himself fall back into the table before hitting his head against it, and then it all went black.