Chapter Text
There are many more universes than we could ever understand. Perhaps one could imagine them, but never in any way they could fully comprehend. No, we leave this knowledge tucked into the spaces between stars and lining the edges of where realities meet.
We ignore how the strings connecting the cosmos sometimes fray and snap. Haven’t you done this before? No, it must just be deja vu.
Sometimes the differences are small. In this universe you wore a green shirt today. In that one you wore blue. Other times it’s more significant.
When Jonathan Sims leads Martin Blackwood out of the Lonely, many things have and have not happened.
In most universes they leave uninhibited. They run until they reach Daisy’s safehouse and they enjoy the peace. From there they either find happiness or Jon is forced to end the world. They work it out.
In the universe we’re peering into, they’re interrupted. Instead of slinking off to plot from a safe distance, Jonah Magnus blocks their path in his Panopticon. Maybe it’s arrogance birthed from standing in a place of power that makes him believe this epicenter will protect him. Maybe it’s hubris sparked from a plan going as it was supposed to that pushes him to keep reaching. Maybe it’s because he’s the exact kind of prick that thrives on gloating about his own intelligence and he wants to see the world end from the front row.
A butterfly flaps its wings.
Let’s see how the dominoes fall, shall we?
Martin doesn’t ever want to stop touching Jon.
Jon had grabbed his hand to help guide him out of the Lonely and never let go. He was muttering something Martin didn’t try to understand. It was probably a plan for when they got out. At the moment, with the mist still clinging to the fibers of his jumper, he just focused on the warm weight of Jon’s skin against his. His breath wasn’t fogging up in front of his face anymore. He’d take the small victory.
Jon came for him.
The thought lit a spark in his chest. It burned after months of icy detachment, but he relished the feeling of anything after the numbness. Here they were, trudging back to the real world. Jon hadn’t looked back at him, eyes almost glowing as they found the right path, but he squeezed Martin’s hand every minute or so to confirm his presence. WIth Jon’s self-sacrificing nature, Martin never expected to be Euridice. He squeezed Jon’s hand back. There was a poem in this situation, he’d have to write it when they had the time.
He blinked and the rugged walls of the Panopticon came into focus.
“Martin,” Jon turned to face him. “Are you- what can I do to help?”
Martin swallowed, “Just.” His lips were still chapped and dry from the salty wind. “Stay close to me, please?”
“Of course.” Fullstop, no hesitation. “I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon.” He squeezed Martin’s hand between both of his own and Martin took a second to admire the difference in their skin tones. Jon’s hands looked almost comically small around his, he liked it.
“Isn’t that sweet?”
“Elias.” Jon’s jaw clenched and he turned, making sure to keep himself between Martin and their former boss.
Elias- Jonah?- wore his favorite smug grin. “Please Jonathan, you know me well enough by now to call me Jonah.” He brushed some invisible dust from the cuffs of his immaculate suit. Of course he was still pristine after everything. “Now if you could do me the favor of reading this.” Jonah- Elias?- produced a document from a pocket, it looked like a statement.
“Jonah, you’re going to step aside, let Martin and I go, and maybe if you leave us alone I won’t kill you.” Jon had a vice grip on Martin’s hand. There was static humming behind his voice.
“You can’t scare me Jon.” Elias took a step closer. “ I made you. ” The hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood up and goosebumps raced down his arms. He felt watched in a way only Elias had been able to inflict.
“Statement of Jonah Magnus,” Martin heard dozens of tapes whirring, the recorders materializing as Jon spoke, “regarding his death.”
Elias laughed almost like he had an actual sense of humor. “Jon, no matter how powerful you think you are, you don’t want to do that.” There was a migraine pressing at Martin’s eye sockets. “The Beholding isn’t going to tell you what happens if I die. Now, you would probably survive fine but you wouldn’t want to risk your precious Martin.”
Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.
The static hit a fever-pitch. Jon’s eyes glowed a sickly unnatural shade of green. Elias looked almost like he knew what regret was.
Martin wasn’t sure what he saw next.
Jon seemed to stretch beyond himself. His hand was still clutching Martin’s, but it wasn’t the Jon he knew. He loomed at twice his normal height, covered in those glowing green eyes. Martin idly wondered if this was how he looked in the nightmares.
“Then you’re going to tell me how I can change that.” Martin would have covered his ears if he could move. It was still Jon’s voice, layered and multiplied and drenched in static. “Statement Begins.”
Elias wasn’t smiling anymore.