Chapter Text
The first thing Jon was aware of was bone-chilling cold. He had to think himself dead as numbness set into his fingers and toes. Granted, he wouldn't suspect he would be feeling either of those things, in specific body parts, if he was dead.
So Jon blearily blinked his eyes open, hands fisting into the snow around him. He slowly pushed himself up and groaned at the pounding in his head. He lifted a hand to his face, trying to rub the pain from his eyes. A glance around his surroundings revealed little to nothing else - a snowy forest, it was dawn, and Martin still passed out in the snow. As he reached out to shake Martin, Jon also reached for the Eye, to learn more, and-
A sharp, stabbing pain that left Jon back in the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push through it. He took several measured breaths, reaching for the door in his mind that was slowly closing. Just as it was about to latch - cut him off from his God completely - he caught it, swung it open.
Then Jon was somewhere else.
It was an empty, white space. It felt almost like the Vast, but something was wrong with it. Like the hellscape that Jon and Martin had trekked through ages ago, but with no clear end - no goal to achieve.
An echoing laugh sounded behind Jon, and he whipped around, sure that he'd see Helen or Michael, or the always-shifting form of the Distortion.
Instead stood a blank figure. A silhouette, more than anything else. It was the thing that had laughed. When Jon tried to See it, tried to Know, a pressure built up behind his eyes.
It was grinning - far too wide to be human, but Jon had already figured that.
"Well, isn't this a surprise," the being stated, leveling Jon with an eyeless stare. "Someone came to me without the use of alchemy - without committing the taboo. However, I wouldn't recommend going in there," it gestured behind Jon, "without doing something of the nature first."
Jon turned his head and saw a giant door that hadn't been there before. No, a Gate, he could Know now. His hand was in it, stopping it from closing all the way.
"And that is an impressive feat as well," the being said, pacing closer. "A human, holding his Gate open on his own. Tell me, who are you?"
Jon looked back toward the thing - the Truth. It felt unwise to look away for too long. "My name is Jonathon Sims, the Archivist. Might I ask the same of you?"
The Truth laughed. "Oh, but you Know what I am, right?"
Jon could Know more if he wished. "I have... made it a goal not to Know things of others unless asked or given permission. Not on purpose, at least." He was having trouble controlling it again, though that likely had to do with his current tumultuous grasp on his powers.
"Very well, then," Truth began, "I am what one can call the world. Or the universe, or perhaps God. I am Truth - I am one, I am all. And now I am also Fear." They pointed at Jon. "And all of this means that I am also you. A human that is more Fear than not, and the closest thing to God that has ever existed."
Jon nodded along, understanding the Truth well enough. He held his Gate a bit firmer. "And of this?"
"You are a servant of the Eye, Archivist," Truth said. With a wave of their hand, Jon's Gate opened. "Turn and tell me what you see."
Jon carefully looked back at his Gate. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched. "I see- I see an eye. The Eye - the Ceaseless Watcher." He turned back to Truth. "So- the Entities followed us."
"Yes, Little Archivist," Truth said. "You catch on quickly." They rested a hand on their chest. "Your Entities are here because I am one, and they are all, and together we are Truth. Which makes you a part of Truth."
Jon shook his head. "Wait, so you're telling me that when-" Martin stabbing him, killing Jonah Magnus, being together in the end- "- that happened, Martin and I were brought here? The Entities came with us and took up residence in you - and in this- all Gates."
"The Eye of Truth has always been here," Truth clarified, "but it has never been as much as it is now. The Ceaseless Watcher, the Beholding, the Eye. Whatever you wish to call it, it and the Eye of Truth are now the same."
"And my connection is still there," Jon said, looking at his trapped hand again. He thought for a moment before turning to Truth. "What do I have to do to return my Knowing?"
"Open your Gate, Archivist," Truth said, "and you will See everything. But know that you will never Know of alchemy - never be able to practice it. You can be taught the how and why, but you will not perform it yourself. Not that you should need to, with the Eye at your beck and call."
Jon nodded. "I understand and agree with your terms."
"Then, Archivist, I believe we are done here."
"One more thing," Jon quickly pushed out. "What of the apocalypse? What about the world we came from?"
"I have a firm enough grasp on Fear to put a stop to any schemes for that," Truth said. "The end is inevitable, but it is nowhere near the time for that. As for your world, I do not know. I assume it is better off for the absence of Fear."
Jon nodded again, slower. Behind him, his door slowly opened. "Thank you, Truth."
Truth's grin widened. "But of course, Little Archivist. Try not to return here too quickly."
And then Jon was back in the snow, shivering from the cold, Martin stirring next to him. Jon placed a hand on his boyfriend's back, steadying him.
"How're you feeling, Martin?" Jon asked gently.
"Kind of like shit, to be completely frank," Martin responded, pushing onto his knees. He leaned back and took Jon's face into his hands. "What about you?"
"Unharmed," Jon said, leaning into Martin's hold. Which was true - the knife wound was healed over, if a bit sore.
"Are you… you? " Martin continued. "Like, does the Eye still have a grip on you? What about the other Fears?"
"I'm me," Jon assured. "I promise - I can still See, but I'm not the Eye's Pupil anymore. The Fears have been contained within this world's god, is the best explanation I have."
"Good." Martin placed a gentle kiss on Jon's forehead. He thumbed over Jon's cheekbone, pulling away. "That's good." He took a deep breath before looking around. "Where are we, anyway?"
"Another universe, in the simplest of terms," Jon said. "More specifically, a country called Amestris, March 4, 1912. We're in the northern forests, near a place named Fort Briggs." He was so grateful that Truth allowed him his powers.
Martin was silent for several moments. Then, he let out an upset, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
Jon flinched at the aggression. "Uh, sorry? What's wrong, Martin?"
"So many things, Jon," Martin said. He pushed himself to his feet, dragging Jon with him. "Which way is south?"
"That way," Jon said, gesturing behind Martin. "What's the proble- hey! Martin, what the hell?!"
Martin started dragging Jon through the snow, heading south. "We absolutely cannot stay here."
"Okay, got that from what you're doing," Jon said, stumbling after Martin, "but that doesn't explain why."
Without stopping, Martin explained, "For some god awful reason, we somehow ended up in the universe of fucking Fullmetal Alchemist after getting erased by our own. And because fate has a sick sense of humor, we got dumped near fucking Fort Briggs, ruled by Olivier Armstrong - and let me tell you, she is not someone you want to mess with. If you thought Daisy was bad, she's even worse."
Jon raised a brow. Martin glanced back at his silence.
"You know? Fullmetal Alchemist? The anime?"
Jon stared.
"Jon, do you even know what anime is?"
"Yes, I know what anime is, Martin," Jon said, rolling his eyes. "I've just never heard of this one."
"Well- can't you just Know it?"
"Not while we're no longer in our universe."
Martin scoffed, his turn to roll his eyes. "This is just a perfect time for your Knowing to be limited."
"Well, I could just... not have it at all," Jon offered.
Martin sighed. "You're right - I'm sorry. Still, we need to get away from here and find the nearest town. We need to forge some documents - because we legally don't exist - and settle down somewhere before we can get drawn into any conflicts."
"Okay, and the next thing you'll be telling me is that our life is a romance horror podcast," Jon joked.
"Don't be absurd, Jon," Martin said. "We have proof that our experiences are real. You record them any chance you get."
"Not entirely my fault, admittedly," Jon said, tripping over a buried root. Martin helped him right himself before they were trekking through the snow again. "God, I hope tape recorders stop just. Appearing."
"I wouldn't be too surprised if they did, though," Martin said. "With you still having access to your powers, the Web could still be trying to spy on us."
Jon thought back to Truth, thought about how they were the host to every Entity now. "Somehow, I'm not sure we'll have to worry about that." He shook his head. "Anyway. You were talking about this Olivier person - you said she was worse than Daisy. You said it was best to avoid her?"
"Yeah, she-"
"I would also like to know the answer to that question."
Jon and Martin whipped around. A few meters away stood a dark-skinned man with white hair. Behind him was a much taller man with a mohawk braid and a noodle mustache.
"Well, fuck," Martin muttered. He raised his hands in surrender, and Jon slowly did the same. "Uhm- hello! Sorry to be a bother, but we were just on our way out!"
"No need to be so hasty," the dark-skinned man said. He approached slowly, and Jon was suddenly aware of the full force of men behind him. "We were able to pick up on some usual activity out here - General Armstrong sent us to investigate. And you don't sound like you're from Amestris."
"Martin," Jon whispered, "this is going poorly very quickly."
"I am aware of that!" Martin shot back, quiet as well. To the man across from them, he said, "Yes, and apologies for any disturbances we may have caused you. However, I think it is about time for us to leave now."
"I'm going to have to ask you both to come with me," the man replied.
There were guns leveled at them. Jon would be able to survive, sure - but not Martin. And that would bring up an entirely new set of issues.
Before Martin could respond, Jon stepped up. "Okay, we'll go with you. But you have to swear you won't hurt him."
" Jon! "
The man looked between them. "I swear."
Jon narrowed his eyes. The man was lying. "Swear it." And if he was Compelling him, then - Martin's safety was more important.
"I swear on my loyalty to General Armstrong that no harm will come to your partner," the man said, then blinked. He glared at Jon, then raised a hand. "Cuff them. And get them back to the fort."
"Sir!"
Jon sat, handcuffed to a table. He kept his gaze forward while Looking at Martin. At the very least, the man - Miles, his name was - hadn't been able to break the promise thus far. As for the woman growing closer to the room...
Martin was right about Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong. The Ice Queen. The Northern Wall of Briggs. Stubborn, cold-hearted, beyond paranoid - she was a ruthless killer. A born leader, and one that would make any lesser man shake in his boots. She would effortlessly be taken in and marked by the Hunt, or perhaps the End. The Slaughter was another one she would fit right into. Olivier Armstrong was everything that Daisy was, everything that Elias was, and made ten times worse.
No compassion for her family outside of pleasantries, vying for her father's role, desiring more than her station - though she wasn't upset at being here either. Olivier was a strategist, and while she had no plans for Jon or Martin yet, she was determined to get any information from them she could.
Olivier had been fighting a stalemate battle with Drachma for years now. The country to the north was just as unyielding as she was, neither willing to back down for a second. Tactical retreats were a given, as was gaining or losing ground. She had lost countless men and would lose so many more. Manpower was hard to get up here, the central Amestrian military hating the thought of expending more than necessary.
Of course, the Furher had other plans - plans Jon couldn't See but knew, instinctively, would require more bodies. More death, more destruction. Perhaps the Flesh would like this area just as well as the others.
So intertwined, the Fears were. And Olivier was a perfect candidate for another Archivist. Luckily, that role was already taken - the thought of Olivier being able to Know...
Well, Jon just wanted to say that no one would be able to stop her.
The statement had been shorter than Jon was used to - but with the terror permeating the fortress...
Short and straightforward was probably best, anyway.
General Armstrong slammed the interrogation room's door open, likely attempting to startle Jon. The Archivist simply turned his Knowing gaze to her, narrowed.
"So." Armstrong sat down across from him. "You and your little boyfriend show up in the middle of my territory with no warning whatsoever. Neither of you sound like you're from here, you look like you've been through hell and back, and he seems to know a little bit too much. Start talking."
"How honest do you want me to be?" Jon asked, meeting her glare with his own. "Because I can tell you anything you wish to know, but it's up to you whether or not to believe me."
Armstrong raised a brow. "Do you think I'd believe anything you say? For all I know, you're a Drachman spy, come to take our information and spread it to the enemy."
"At least trust me when I say I have no desire to get into your international conflict," Jon said. "I can tell you what you wish to know about them if you'd like."
Armstrong seemed to consider this before leaning forward in her chair. Jon smiled ruefully.
"Their forces are currently scattered from the battle you waged two days ago," Jon began, letting his eyes glaze over in Sight. "They're running low on supplies, their trucks caught in a blizzard moving south. They are scared - uncertain. With winter settling in, they can't afford this oversight. If you were to strike, this would be the best moment. Your troops need time to recover, as well, but it would be wise to move before the blizzard hits Fort Briggs."
Armstrong hummed, leaning back again. "That is quite the information. And if we can strike now, then we could set them back for months."
"You could completely eradicate their forces using a small team," Jon said. "Buccaneer and Miles - a couple of others."
"And you know their names how?"
"I can simply Know things, General Armstrong," Jon said. "I can be your greatest asset here. All I ask is that you do not harm Ma- my partner."
Armstrong stayed silent for a few moments. "When would be the best time to launch our attack?"
"Well, I can't see the future," Jon said, "but, with the state the Drachmans are in, I'd say you have the next two weeks."
"Then we make plans to launch an attack in three days," Armstrong said. "Rather, I will, and how it goes will determine whether you and your boyfriend go free. Or else become part of our forces."
"Sure, that's understandable," Jon said. "And when you win, I have a few requests of you."
"You have my word - I will listen," Armstrong said, and she was being truthful. "If we win."
"Of course," Jon said. "Can I see my partner now?" Then, he was hit with a dizzy spell. "And maybe something to eat as well."
"You will be accommodated," Armstrong said, standing. "Miles will be in shortly to assist you."
"Thank you, Major General," Jon said. "I just hope that this victory will make us even."
"It will make us more than even," Armstrong muttered. She swiftly left the room, and Jon allowed his shoulders to relax.
Jesus. That was worse than when Daisy was trying to kill him.