Work Text:
Sometimes, deep down Below in the coffin, Jon began to forget his name. Under the depths, dirt mixing in his mouth and tiny rocks scraping around his arms, he couldn’t See and he couldn’t see, feeling his way forward like a blind mole rat through tunnel after tunnel.
It was hard to breathe. On occasion, the dirt was packed loosely in front of him, and when he sucked in a breath it all fell in through his mouth, and he coughed and choked until he wasn’t sure if the dark liquid coming from his mouth was blood or mud.
It didn’t matter, anyway. He just had to keep going, keep moving, find Daisy. Do one good thing in his life for Basira and bring her back her partner. Jon had to make sure that he hadn’t only survived to hurt the others in the Archives more. He couldn’t be just a monster.
The dirt was thick. Sometimes Jon felt like he could almost breathe easily, and then he noticed it rubbing against his skin from inside his clothes. And when the tunnels were thicker, and he pushed himself through anyway, later on he’d feel scratches all over his arms and torso, sometimes bubbling with blood, and sometimes already scabbed over. They only hurt or itched after he touched them, but then they would hurt for hours, stinging and itching until he went nearly mad with it under all the pressure of the earth. Then it would fade, and he would keep on dragging himself through tunnel after tunnel, searching, searching, searching.
Sometimes he didn’t know what it was he was looking for, only that he couldn’t find it--sometimes he coughed and spit out dirt, her name on his lips-- Daisy, Daisy. He did not know if he would find her. He did not know if he’d survive getting her out. He did not know if either of them ever deserved to leave this place, the dark crushing Forever Deep Below Creation.
He kept digging.