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I suppose I should have thought about it from the beginning. I suppose I did think about it from the beginning. Not from the beginning of my life- or- or my job at The Magnus Institute, but since the beginning of the end, the “Eyepocalypse” as Jon so humorously refers to it as. I’ve never seen where the joke is in it, but I’d laugh anyway because it was Jon. I’ve always wanted to impress him, to make him laugh, to see him happy because of me. I could have had that. I mean- I do have that sort of. Maybe I’d just have it a lot more often if I hadn’t gone and fucked up Peter’s plans, if I hadn’t chosen not to kill Elias- Jonah, whoever the hell he is. If I just shot him when I had the chance, none of this would have happened. Jon and I might still be sitting in that safehouse up in Scotland, wrapped up in a cozy blanket together as we wait for the kettle to start whistling. Hell, we would still be wrapped around each other in that old bed, content with only each other for company, if I hadn’t gone and fucked us over. Fucked everyone over!
It isn’t possible to go back though, even if it were, I don’t know that I would. I still believe that Jon would have died if I killed Jonah then, though, that doesn’t really make much of a difference eh? It’ll just hurt worse now than it did back them, if I have to kill him (and judging by how things are going, I will). Back then, I still thought he hated me, but now? Now I think he loves me too. He says he does. I worry he doesn’t sometimes, but I’ve never really seen him as a liar.
I look back on us a lot, primarily the time we spent happy together in the safehouse, before everything went to shit. It was wonderful while it lasted. Jon almost always woke up before me, and I’m not entirely sure what he did for most of the time I was asleep, but I do know that he’d put the water on. The whistle always woke me up, along with a kiss on the forehead, and occasionally Jon moving my hair out of my face. Jon is absolutely gorgeous when he has energy, by the way, though it’s only for about three hours before he’s back to being tired. Some of the best days were when I’d wake up first and get to watch him as he slept- that sounds terribly creepy, but I swear it was just because he looked so calm- most of the time. Eventually I’d wake him up, similar to how he woke me. It was always nice. Sometimes, I’d let the kettle whistle just a little longer just to cuddle up with him in the morning. We went for walks pretty often, sometimes twice a day. There was no internet in the cottage, so it was really the best we could do. Besides, we got to go out and take a look at those gorgeous, fluffy scottish cows, and I got to see Jon in my jumpers. Very cute, I wish I could see one again, but now they’re all horrific beasts- the cows I mean, Jon is still able to wear my sweaters and still painfully adorable in them.
I remember when everything started, how sudden it was, how terrifying it was. It was an instant burst of fear, all throughout my body. I don’t know if I will ever stop feeling that, aside from when we stayed with Salesa. I remember going back to our temporary home and finding the love of my life curled into a ball and shaking harder than I had been, marks around his throat and mouth (which I had later learned were from him trying to stop the statement). He’d felt responsible for all of this, as if he had a choice to read that statement or not. By the time he’d finished explaining what had happened, I was holding him and he was sobbing harder than I’d ever seen (to be fair, I hadn’t seen him cry much). I didn’t know how to comfort him, I didn’t have the words yet, nor the tea, considering the snakes. I wasn’t able to process anything happening, hell, I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed it now.
Jon’s hand was comfortable in my own hand as we entered London, if the grip was not a little too tight. The watch helicopters overhead were deafening and rather annoying, but nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of doom and the feeling as if you were being watched by a thousand tiny eyes. To be quite honest, we were being watched by practically everything that could see here, so the feeling wasn’t irrational, just uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. Jon didn’t seem too worried about them, as he was always being watched anyways, he’s the archivist after all.
“Who d’you think is watching through all of these cameras?” I asked.
“Everyone, but, mostly Elias- Jonah.” came Jon’s response. It was short, and to the point, which was both nice, and unsettling. It was like anytime I’d ask a question he’d come back with this long, elaborate answer that really wasn’t needed. I know now he was really just letting excess information out.
“Think he knows we’re on our way to give him a little visit?”
“Definitely. He knows everything I do and do not know, and therefore would also know of our current whereabouts.” back to the long and complicated answers.
“Hm.”
We continued walking for some time, who knows how long, before we finally reached the Panopticon. There didn’t seem to be a way in, and Jon needed to make a statement, so I searched around the building for an entrance while he did his thing. I was nearly at a loss for what to do when I found Melanie and Georgie on their way back in. They briefly explained to me their living situation, and we went back to retrieve Jon. He was extremely confused about my act, to say the least, and I don’t believe Elias would have bought it if he were watching at all, but who knew who else might be watching.
I wish I could say we were still down in those tunnels, safe from the world, fists held high. We never were safe down there though, nor were we confident that we’d survive. We discussed it a few times, sacrifice, and killing the other for the saving of everyone else. We made a few painful promises. They hurt, but I don’t know if they’ll ever hurt as bad as today.
We finally have made it up into the tower, to Jonah. He was a grinning bastard, as per usual, but he seemed properly chipper, which set both Jon and I on edge immediately, although we weren’t quite shocked, I wasn’t at least, I can’t speak for Jon.
“Martin, Jon, how lovely to see the two of you after all this time!”
“Piss off, Jonah,”
“Martin..” I huffed at Jon’s warning tone. Couldn’t he just let me be a little pissy? Maybe he was right, now wasn’t the time.
“And, to what do I owe the pleasure? Here to kill me, I assume?” Jonah sneered, looking at me directly with many, many eyes. Through me. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
“Actually, yes.” Jon replied.
“Hm. I figured as such. You are aware you will die if you destroy me?”
“Yes.” I didn’t like that. Of course, we’d discussed this time and time again, but knowing this could happen and watching it as it’s about to happen are two very different things.
“I wonder who the Ceaseless Watcher favours, Jon. Me, or you? I suppose you did start the apocalypse, but it wasn’t really you was it?”
“Enough, Elias. Jonah.” I spoke up. Jon squeezed my hand in a response, and I suddenly remembered when we were in the archives, talking about how I wouldn’t leave the Institute. How he’s said “Shut up, Martin,”, and it had sounded a bit more affectionate than before the.. Worms. It didn’t warm my heart all that much, not now.
“Oh? Are you going to help him, Martin? Follow him like you did your mother?”
“Shut up.” Jon hissed, which surprised me a bit.
I didn’t know if this would go well. I didn’t know what would happen. They both worked for the same entity, pulled the same power from the same place. How was one to beat the other? I was beginning to worry.
“Martin, cover your ears and close your eyes for me, would you, love? Preferably against the wall over there?” Jon asked quietly, my heart racing.
“Wh- What? Why?”
“Martin, please,” he looked at me with those eyes, those god damned puppy eyes.
I gave in, what else was I supposed to do? He obviously had a reason, whether it was a good one or not, I suppose I’d figure out soon enough.I did as I was told, moving against the furthest wall and turning to face it, hands covering my ears. Even with them covered, I could still hear the intense static that always came about whenever Jon smited the avatars. It was different this time, stronger, in my head. I gritted my teeth, pressing my hands harder against my ears. It did little to help. I could hear Jon’s voice over it all, as if it were telepathic.
“Ceaseless watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched old man, and destroy him.”
I felt my glasses fogging, but not from Lonely fog, from the hot tears that I hadn’t even realized began streaming down my face. Why? I don’t know, but the static was unbearably loud, as if Jonah was fighting back. Maybe he was? Maybe it was just caused by the power being used against itself.
And then it was quiet
Slowly, cautiously, I wiped my face and lowered my shaking and sweating hands, hesitant to turn around, to see what was behind me.
“Jon- Jon..?” I called out quietly, my voice coming out in a quiver.
There was no reply for a few moments. I went to repeat myself, to call out for the man I loved again, when I heard a soft groan. Jon. I turned around, running over to Jon, who was lying on the ground. I couldn’t see any injuries, but he didn’t seem okay.
“Jon! Jon, I’m here, I’m here,” I said, carefully pulling his limp body into my arms, holding onto him as if he’d fall to pieces if I let go.
“M-Martin..?” he coughed, voice rough and scratchy. Had he been screaming?
“Yes! Yes, Jon it’s me, it’s me. Are you- are you alright? Are you hurt?” Jon’s hand fell onto the sleeve of my jumper and he managed a weak smile, and I noticed his nose bleeding.
“Soft,” he said weakly, I snorted.
“Hush.. answer the question,”
“I- I’m.. lord- I’m weak.. But.. alive?” I smiled, sniffling, to which Jon opened his eyes.
Those. Those were not his eyes. Those were not his fucking eyes.
I dropped the body that was once Jon’s, standing to my feet. When had Jonah taken Jon’s eyes? There was so little time between when I hid and when things ended, right? Jonah, in Jon’s body, grinned. It was the same grin Jon had when I told a stupid joke, and it hurt all the more that it was not Jon.
“You- You evil fucking bastard!”
“Martin? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.” he was still grinning.
“What the fuck did you do to Jon?” I screamed, tears flowing from my eyes. My voice did not give on me yet, for which I was thankful.
“I am Jon, darling.”
“No. No no no no! Fuck you! Fuck-” I shoved him, thrustung my hands into the slim chest of what was once my boyfriend. “-You!”
I remembered an object I kept in my pack, and my eyes widened as Jonah struggled to catch his breath. I tore off my bag and reached inside. Ignoring the things that should not have been there, I grabbed the gun, pulling it out and cocking it.
“Now- Martin- Think- Think about what you’re doing. I promise you I am not Jonah, you heard me smite him, love,” “Jon” said. I hated it. I hated hearing his voice so evil.
“Fuck you,” I spat, voice weakening as I became choked up with tears.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Fuck you, Jonah fucking Magnus.”
And I pulled the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice for good measure.
My ears were ringing, eyes damp and blurred from the tears, or maybe I’d lost my glasses somewhere in this. I felt for them. They were still there. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, although I regret that decision. Jon’s body was on the ground, bleeding out. Lifeless. I let out a sob, stumbling over to it and falling hard onto my knees, though the pain was barely processed. I looked down at Jon. Jonah. No, Jon. Jonah was dead.. But.. now Jon was too.
“I- I- I’m sorry, Jon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry,” I sobbed, pulling his body to mine. My hand fell to his blood streaked face. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed before. I wiped away the blood and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Jon.”
but I guess we were always meant to say goodbye.