Chapter Text
The last thing Jon remembers is the door, bright and colourful spirals creeping out from its beating heart with a blinding light. Helen had stood beside it, smiling as he faced both them and the door. They’d told him this was the way back, a chance to restart from the beginning and try again, try to change the inevitable fate of the world. Jon instantly knew what they meant. Time travel. Although Helen had said that offer with a smirk, so Jon was still slightly uncertain about the full outcome. It also worried Jon that Helen hadn’t even mentioned what they were getting in payment to this generous offer. When he’d asked, all Helen had said was that they were fond of Martin and wanted to see his fate change. Martin. Jon didn’t want to think about it anymore, dwell on the past the same way he had done for who knows how long. So, he’d said yes, knowing full well there was a catch. He was doing it for Martin, and Tim and Sasha.
It had occurred to him that he could have just pulled the truth out of them. Found out exactly what game the Spiral was playing with him. But Helen would have refused and fought back. Jon wasn’t certain he could die anymore, not while the fear of the apocalypse he had brought carried on. Helen could, and would have died. Then Jon would be trapped here, alone for however long eternity lasts until death claimed its final prize. So, he’d nodded, and Helen had opened a door that wasn’t there with a smile and a final wave. If everything went well, he might not ever see her face again.
Jon stepped through, and the world had gone a blinding white.
When the blindness clears from his eyes, all Jon’s left with is a splitting headache. It hammers in his skull and refuses to go away. Blinking his eyes twice in a hope that it would clear up soon, Jon looks around the room he’s walked into from the door. Well, walked is a strong term, as currently he appears to be sitting at a familiar desk. The dark wood and neat stacks of paper in the corner to his left, the overflowing pen pot and laptop to his right, the tea stained drink coaster. This is his desk at the Magus Institute. Well, this used to be his desk before he stopped caring what it looked like.
Quickly looking around, he sees his office, neat and organised with a few stacks of statement boxes and undamaged shelving behind him. He’s back in the Magnus Institute, back before it all began. Before the Prentiss attack and the paranoia and the marks. Before the Eye and the Archivist. Jon lets out a small chuckle, thankful his past self isn’t here to see him right now. That would take a lot of explaining. But that doesn’t matter in this moment, right now he’s back before everything began. Well, mostly everything. It’s not like he can just leave the Institute.
Taking a moment to savoir this, Jon suddenly realises how light he feels. The desire for statements, the hunger, the overwhelming pressure of the entities is gone. It’s an odd feeling, walking from the almighty power he wielded in the end of the world to the power of just the Archivist. But even then, the gaze of the Eye feels faint. He’d never really noticed it before, or never cared enough to actually look, but now he realises how faint that gaze upon him is. It’s still there, still watching, but it’s like he’s in the corner of its vision rather than holding back the full force of its gaze. For the first time in God knows how long, Jon feels human again.
The headache hasn’t gone away, still pounding at the back of his skull and almost ruining the moment. Almost. Closing his eyes, he rubs his palms on his temple in a futile effort to make it go away. It doesn’t work, leaving Jon to run his hands down his smooth chin. Smooth? That wasn’t right. Opening his eyes, he quickly pats down the lower half of his face. The small amounts of stubble that had grown out during the cottage in Scotland before the world ended were gone. It should still be there, so why had it gone? Unless…
Jon looks at his hands, staring at the short nails and mostly unblemished skin. They were gone; the burn from Jude Perry, the scar from Michael. The sleeves of his jumper have changed, replaced by a crisp white shirt that would never have survived the apocalypse. Looking at the rest of himself, Jon sees he’s wearing slacks and a tie again. A green tweed jacket that one would expect an English professor to wear was hanging off the back of the chair. He didn’t need to get his phone camera out to know in that moment, the worm scars, the throat scar, the ones on his ribs would also all be gone. He hadn’t just been sent to the past; he’d been sent back into his past self.
Jon doesn’t know how he feels about that. On one hand, he’s human again, every mark and scar gone. The power nothing more than a distant path in his coming future. On the other, he was hoping for the full powers of the Archivist to aid him. Thinking about it, that small set-back seems insignificant to everything he has gained by stepping back into his younger self. The struggle, the desperation, the fight with his own nature to hold onto his humanity was gone. He has a chance to start over, to re-do every choice he made. To save Sasha from the Not!Them. To not push Tim away with his paranoia. To not become the Archivist, not get marked by every Entity. The thought makes him smile. All he’ll have to do is impersonate himself, after all, they’ll think he’s crazy if he tells them everything now.
Jon doesn’t think that would be too hard. He just has to pretend to be their sceptic and slightly grumpy boss who definitely does not know what’s going on and is definitely not madly in love with Martin. Oh Gods, Martin. Jon realises now that he’s going to have to hide his feeling for Martin, to not grab his hand when he’s standing close or give him a stealth cuddle from behind.
‘I can do that,’ Jon thinks to himself. ‘It’s not going to be that hard.’
At least he gets to see Martin again.
It occurs to Jon in that moment that he should probably find out when he is. He knows this must be before the Jane Prentiss attack and it looks like he’s already started making the recordings, but has Martin moved into the Archives yet? Has Sasha met Michael already? Pulling out his phone, he turns it on to look at the date, his eyes catching on the background. It’s a generic scene of bird feather close up, something from the pre-sets that he once thought looked plain and simple enough to do the job, but has long since been changed to a photo of Martin. Or will change? Messing with time made things more confusing than they had to be. Looking at the date, he sees that it is the 18th of February 2016. It doesn’t help much, without his Archivist powers, he can’t remember the exact statement number of Martin’s statement, but he knows that it was around this time.
He also notices that it’s a little past 8 in the morning. Knowing that the Archives should be deserted to everyone, except maybe Martin, Jon decides to have a look around. Martin’s not there. Instead he walks through the Institute alone, marvelling at how different yet the same it is. Tim, Sasha, and Martin’s desks sit in a small circle, mostly tidy except for Tim’s current research into the statement of Hailey Rundleman. Giving it a quick glance, Jon is pretty sure this is not one of the real ones as it bears none of the hallmarks of an actual encounter with one of the Entities. There’s a framed photo on Martin’s desk, the four of them sitting in a booth while Tim takes a selfie of them all. There’s ice cream and Martin’s smiling with a smile like the morning sun.
It makes Jon’s heart break a little as he remembers Martin walking in with breakfast in bed and the same smile back in Scotland. As he noticed his first Scottish Highland cow. As they sat together in the Panopticon after escaping the Lonely and had their first kiss. As he remembers all the little moments together up until… No, he’s not reliving that again. Instead he looks at the rest of the photograph, to Tim’s beaming face, to his own small smile, and to a woman he doesn’t recognise. Sasha. The real Sasha James. Her dark skin and curly dark hair competing are against his memories of the tall white thing that impersonated her for so many months. It’s nice to know what she actually looked like, what she still looks like. He has to save her, has to stop the Not!Them from taking her. Jon stares at that photo for a long time before replacing it on Martin’s desk and looking around again.
Basira’s stack of books, the cots and clothes that kept the Archives in a constant slight mess, and Melanie’s spare knife are all gone. It’s neat and tidy and devoid of any traces of what they all went through. Slowly walking, Jon wanders over to the small bench with the kitchen appliances on it. The fridge in has a few notes stuck to it, jokes between Sasha and Tim mainly, and a reminder from Jon to label all food. Jon remembers the notes, although the fridge had been blank for a long time after everything started happening. An empty packet of biscuits and an open tea bag box sit discarded on the counter by a dirty mug. Jon smiles, running his hand across the bench in memory. The whole place is devoid of the depression, the hopelessness, the anger that they all shared at being stuck here. It looks almost happy. It’s a nice memory he’s caught up in, a nicer time he gets to see again. Now he just has to keep it this way.
Jon hears a sound, footsteps as someone comes to approach the Archives. They’re here. For all his imagining and excitement, Jon doesn’t know what to do in this moment. Doesn’t know how he can act normal. What if it’s Sasha, whose face he’ll only know from that photograph? Tim, who still considers him a friend? Martin, who means everything to Jon? So, he retreats, scuttling back to his office and shutting the door to compose himself. From on the other side of the frosted glass, he sees an unfamiliar silhouette. Sasha is here.
There’s nothing that Jon wants to do more than run out of the office he’s stuck himself in and stare. To give her a joyous hug. But the old Jon wouldn’t have done that, he’d have sat in his office working until he came out for a cup of tea and a biscuit. So, that’s what he has to do instead, sit in his chair, and uselessly shuffles papers around in an attempt to look busy until it seems reasonable for him to come out and see her again. Caught in the euphoria of the moment, he realises he doesn’t have a plan for anything yet. Not the table, not the worms, not Elias.
Elias is watching him. Jon had forgotten that little tid-bit of information. The last thing Jon wants is for Jonah to realise that he’s actually the Archivist from the future and that in the old timeline, his plan is an overwhelming success. Which means he’ll have to play the part for both his assistants and an Elias who could be constantly watching him at any moment. Which means recording the statements and acting as old Jon would, even in private. Sighing, he picks up the first of the statements on his stack and gives it a look over, trying to figure out exactly where he is in the pile.
Tim comes in next, loud, and boisterous as he greats Sasha in a joyful tone. Well, not exactly joyful, just happier than he’s heard Tim sound in a long time. This is a Tim who didn’t have to deal with his paranoia, with the horrors of Magnus Institute, with everything that will happen. Jon smiles as he listens to the two of them talk about something so mundane that he can hardly make out the words. It’s just noise, but it’s a nice noise. A nice moment of a mundane past he’s long forgotten.
He sits, listening to them talk before their conversation begins to die down. Even after he can’t hear anything more, aside from an occasional burst of sound, he still sits and smiles. After everything they’ve been through, this moment is something out of a dream.
“Morning Sasha, morning Tim,” a new voice cuts through the silence. Martin.
Jon’s heart skips a beat as he hears his shuffling around outside the door. The temptation to run out is greater now, to collapse into Martin’s arms and never let go. He’s here. He’s okay. He’s unharmed. But the old Jon didn’t love Martin the way he does now and would never have done that. So, despite how much it hurts, he doesn’t move. Instead he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to straighten his tie and check his hair is in a neat ponytail. His hands shake slightly as he realises that he could go out now, could say good morning to all the friends he’s lost as if the world hasn’t instantly changed. But before he could stand, there’s a small knock on the door from a familiar silhouette. Then Martin opens it.
“Morning Jon, fancy a cup of tea? I’m afraid Tim’s eaten all the biscuits,” he asks as if it is the most normal thing in the world. Well, for Martin it is.
Jon doesn’t even hear Tim’s squark of protest as he looks at Martin. Soft brown curls and a smile Jon could lose himself in look back. The white in his hair and the sorrow lines he tried so hard to hide are gone. It’s strange to see him unmarked, but a good strange. A nice strange.
Shaking his head slightly, Jon looks back at Martin, who waits expectantly for an answer. It has only been the briefest on moments, but for Jon it felt longer. Composing himself, he responds in a tone he hopes is old Jon-like enough.
“Morning Martin. And yes, I would love a tea.”
“Alright then,” Martin responds, before scuttling off a lot faster than he arrived, leaving the door open.
He thinks he’s done a pretty good job. That was something he would say. Then Tim pokes his head around the door with a smirk and Jon realises this might not be as easy as he’d hoped.
“Alright. Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” Tim asks, amusement on his voice.
“What?” Jon responds.
He’d somehow messed up already. That small fact is the only thing stopping him stare at Tim, with his smirk and without his scars.
“You sure he hasn’t been possessed by something?” Sasha calls from her desk with a smile.
He can see her now. This is the first time he’s properly seen the real Sasha, a memory uncorrupted. She looks better than any photograph or rough description by Melanie could be. Sitting at her desk and typing away at her computer, she looks towards both Tim and Jon. At that moment though, it really properly hits him. He is back at the beginning. He really has another chance at this.
“The ghost of Joe Spooky that haunts this place. Probably,” Tim turns as he calls back, not seeing Jon staring at the both of them.
“Tim… I’m fine,” Jon responds, still unsure what he’s done to set this off and hoping this was a normal enough to alleviate Tim’s joking suspicion.
“Ha. Don’t worry boss, sounds like you’re back to normal,” Tim gives wink and disappears, closing the door as he goes.
Ah, that was it then. Jon sounded too affectionate towards Martin. This was going to be harder than he thought, especially since every feeling he has for Martin lies just beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over at any second. Martin shortly returns with a cup of perfectly brewed tea and Jon tries not to smile or say thank you to him. He didn’t think he could hold any of his emotions back if he did. This scene’s so familiar though, and yet slightly too different also. But it’s been too long since he’s had a good cup of Martin’s tea, so he just tries to savour the moment. He’s falling into his memories again, those lazy Scottish mornings with a mug of tea and curling up on Martin’s lap.
Holding the tea, Jon takes a sip as he waits for it to cool slightly, thinking of the future instead of the past. He knows he has to deal with the table first; before Martin moves into the Archives. Once Martin was living in the Magnus Institute, it would be more difficult for Jon to sneak around unnoticed after dark. Especially since the tunnels were off limits due to the impending Jane Prentiss invasion. Unless the invasion and attack never happened. But that was for later, right now, Jon has a table to deal with.
Thinking of the table and the Not!Them, Jon reaches into his drawer and starts rummaging, an idea forming. Eventually, after searching through two drawers he finds what he is looking for and pulls out a tape recorder. The Not!Them can’t affect the recordings on the tapes and if anything like Sasha happens again, he needs to know. Taking a breath, Jon begins to record.
“Recording the descriptions of Tim, Sasha, and Martin in the event things… happen
“Sasha is short…”