Chapter Text
Peaceful, the countryside is. Serene meadows rolling with soft grass and bespeckled with wildflowers. Thistle, heather, and bluebells. All paint the world with their prominent yet calming color. Cows enclosed in pastures graze on the grass and gaze up on an endless blue sky.
These are just a few of the things Jon takes notice of when the bookstore is slow, gazing out the window above the city skyline into the rolling hills just beyond the horizon. The sun had just begun to set, and the only discernible noise Jon could make out was the ticking of the nearby clock, counting the minutes until his shift was over. He let his eyes wander from the window back to the rows and rows of books that the store houses.
Basira, the better of his two employees, suddenly appeared from behind one, and her unannounced presence made Jon jump in his seat just a little.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, balancing a stack of books in her arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s quite alright.” Jon replied, shifting back to a more relaxed position. He noticed his other employee, Melanie, roll her eyes in his peripheral vision. She was seated next to him at a separate cashier desk.
Basira gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, and set the books down on a nearby table. She then began to organize them by genre.
Basira wasn’t a horrible employee, not by any means. She was strict in her working style and routine, but she was fair when she needed to be and always stood up against the occasional unruly customer that needed to be put in their place. She had joined this shop after quitting her old job, although she never let Jon in on any of the details. Something about an out-of-control coworker and a horrific accident that acted as her wake-up call to get out of there. That was the most she had ever opened out to Jon, and he never learned anything more about her. Just her name; Basira Hussein, and the fact that despite working at a bookstore, she hated reading.
He found her odd, the moment he first met her at his interview. She had brought along who she introduced as a “friend”, one Melanie King, and it was the three of them in a broom closet sized office, and the woman that stood before him now was just a husk of a person. She was still fresh out of her incident, and was looking for any escape she could find. So she came to the first shop she could find, and it happened to be Jon’s.
In fact, the store had only been open a couple months with Jon as the only worker when she came knocking on his doorstep. He was fresh out of university with a useless degree in literature, and had bought it from an elderly woman named Gertrude. He settled right in, despite not knowing anything about running a business. Basira thought the name was tacky, ‘it’s not even remotely close to being an archive.’ she would say, but Jon didn’t feel the need to change the name of the store, so Robinson’s Archives stayed.
His other employee, Melanie, he couldn’t even say anything about. The morning after he had hired Basira, she showed up again with Melanie in tow. He tried to explain to her that if Melanie was going to hang around the store for hours on end, then she would need to fill out an application. Which she did. She tore through the process and handed the paperwork to Jon in what only could be described as chicken scratch. So now he had two new hires in two days. For every two words Basira may have said, Melanie said even less, resorting to grunts or other animalistic noises to get her point across. When she did speak, it was short, concise, and always edging on the verge of a threat. Jon wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but they had enough of a bond to tolerate being with each other for hours on end each day.
They didn’t like to share, and he didn’t feel the need to pry. They all got along just fine.
“Store’s dead today.” she mentioned offhandedly, an attempt to make small conversation.
“I’ve noticed.”
It was true, the store was well and truly empty. They had only made a handful of sales, mostly to a few regulars. Jon stared down the empty rows of shelves, and back out to the wild city outside.
“How would you two feel about a day off?” he asked her absentmindedly, still staring out the window at nothing.
“Are you sure? What about the shop?”
“The shop can survive half a day with no one in it. You deserve some time off anyway.”
Basira set down the book she was holding, and glanced out the window at whatever Jon was staring at.
“Hmm. Sure.” She immediately turned her attention to Melanie, who met her gaze.
“Mel, walk me to the bus stop. I’ve heard the Wizard Blackwood has been spotted along the hillside again.”
“Basira, you believe in wizards?” Jon interjected.
“Of course I do.” and that was the end of it.
Jon had never been one to believe in all the magic crap that others in the city loved to gossip about. Even since he was small he was constantly hearing stories about the Watcher of the Waste. A being never seen or heard, but always there watching your every move. It was mostly an old wives tale to scare young children into behaving. Jon’s grandmother was an uptight and realistic woman, so she never took the time to upend the stories onto him. It was always “shut up and sit still or else” with her. Even if his grandmother had felt the need to impart the tales to Jon, he didn’t think he would have believed them. Always the realist he was, and even though he seemed to be surrounded by the mystical and magical, he could always find a way to just explain it away.
“Will you be alright here by yourself?” Basira asked, her words snapping Jon back to reality.
“Uh yes, I’ll be fine by myself. Even with the dastardly Wizard Blackwood afoot.” he made sure to drip the last words in heavy seated sarcasm.
“Oh you don’t need to worry about him, Sims.” Melanie remarked, holding the door open for Basira as she stepped through. “He only eats the hearts of attractive people.” and with that she slammed the door behind her, leaving Jon by himself and with her words.
He scoffed to himself. Attractiveness. What a ridiculous notion. Even for Melanie he found the comment to be a bit absurd. Although people will believe anything if they believe in magic.
__________
Jon stuffed the store keys into his pocket as he made his way down the street. It was colder than he had anticipated, as the sun sank taking most of its warmth with her. He kept his hands snug within the pockets of his jacket, a feeble attempt to keep some of the chill away.
The day off he had proposed to his employees had selfish intentions attached to it. Truthfully he had arranged to see his longtime friend, Georgie, in her cafe, and he thought the slow day at the shop was a good enough excuse. He had not seen Georgie since he bought the bookshop, and he had been keen to meet up with her. Georgie was a constant in Jon’s life ever since they met at Uni. She was always there for him in times of need, and he always tried to do the same for her. Although he was not very good about it, he still tried nonetheless.
This visit right now was him trying.
A cool autumn breeze blew past Jon and up his neck, signifying the inevitable changing of the seasons. Jon turned up his coat against the chill, and tried to keep his head down to avoid his hair getting windswept. Still, like it always does, the long hair kept getting caught in his mouth, even with it tied back. It was always a nuisance to him, and multiple times he considered chopping it all off. He had just never had the time or the opportunity to get around to doing it.
He made his way down the street towards the more crowded square. Military vehicle after military vehicle passed by, followed by cheers of celebration from the onlookers. Jon had never been one to celebrate war, and looked on the deafening crowd with disdain. If you asked him (and no one ever did), the country would be much better off without this ridiculous war. If the King of the Other Country to the North just accepted that the This Country didn’t know where their precious prince was, and if the king of This Country wasn’t so goddamn prideful he wouldn’t have taken offense to the accusation and declared war.
The war was ridiculous. Horrific, yes, but ultimately ridiculous.
Jon dipped into a nearby alleyway in an attempt to separate himself from the festivities. His footsteps echoed across the cobblestone as he walked down it. The buildings closed in close around him, and it made for a rather claustrophobic atmosphere. It was still better than whatever was going on in the main square, so he trudged on. The chill was less present in this area, so Jon released some of the tension in his shoulders. It felt good to get out and move. Away from the mundanity of everyday life. The store, his empty flat, the constant war news crowding the newspaper and the radio. This visit was mainly for Georgie, but Jon allowed himself to be selfish in the journey, just this once. He gazed up at the skyline above him from the buildings, the clear blue streaked with clouds.
Jon was so lost in his own thoughts, and looking up to the sky, he didn’t even notice the person in the middle of the alley. He walked smack right into her, colliding into her shoulder with a harsh thud. She was rather sturdy, and it tripped Jon up. He began to spew apologies at the woman as he tried to find his footing.
“Well, what are you up to then?” she asked, sneering down at him underneath the brim of her hat. Jon noticed the emblem embroidered onto it right away. Police. He swallowed harshly, taking a step back.
“Again, I sincerely apologize, I should have looked where I was going.”
She took another step toward him, getting in his face. Jon retreated back into his coat. His heart was racing and his legs were itching to run away from the woman, but they were frozen in place from the fear. She was several inches taller than Jon, and many noticeable scars littered her face.
“You should have been looking. Are we going to have a problem?”
“No, no, not at all Officer…” He glanced down at her name badge. Tonner.
“Officer Tonner. I was just trying to get to my friend's cafe.”
“What are you getting at? You think you can just walk right into me, in the middle of an abandoned alley, and just play the fool? I don’t think so.” She reached down to her side, as if to grab something. This made Jon’s already beating heart spike even more. What was she going to do? Was she pulling out a weapon? Why? He hadn’t done anything?
A hand at his shoulder halted his racing thoughts. It was firm, yet soft and he let the touch ground him.
“There you are sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Jon glanced up to see the owner of the voice. A tall, bulky, handsome man was standing there beside him, pressing against him as though they were lovers. That did seem to be the story the man was trying to sell to the officer. The man was just as tall as the officer, and he wore a beautifully crafted sweater that flowed down his arms to his waist. His fingers were decked out with magnificent jewels, with impressive earrings to match. He wore thin, dark round frames that sat on his face perfectly complimented his roman nose. Deep amber waves settled in bangs that sat gorgeously on his face, and they were tousled ever so slightly that they were disheveled in a hot way. Jon was completely enamored.
Tonner looked up at the man and made eye contact with him.
“You know him?”
“Yes. I lost him in the crowd, and now I’ve found him. Thank you for keeping him here for me, Officer.”
“He doesn’t just get to walk away.”
“Oh, but I think he does.” The man raised his hand, and extended his fingers towards her. Something lapped at Jon’s feet, and he glanced down to identify what it was. Fog was rolling in and caressing up against his legs. In fact, fog was everywhere. It was completely preposterous, as there were no ports for miles, and there were barely any clouds in the sky. A new, harsher chill rolled up Jon’s spine, and he involuntarily clung to the man for support. Soon enough, he couldn’t see a thing. The fog was too thick. If it weren't for him holding onto the man's arm for dear life, he would have thought he had disappeared into it, left all alone.
The man took a hurried step forward, and Jon followed, still holding on.
“What’s going on?” he managed to croak out.
“We’re walking away.” the man said, which was entirely unhelpful. Jon scoffed at his words, but still kept his hold.
Soon enough, the fog began to clear, and Jon could see the stones in front of his feet once more. He could see everything again. The ally, the buildings, the sky. The man. Now that they were out of the fog, Jon’s face heated as he realized he was still holding onto him. He stepped away with an awkward cough and adjustment of the coat.
“Thank you, for helping me.”
The man's glasses were still fogged up, so he removed them to clean them.
“It’s no trouble at all.” he said, waving them around, and they cleared almost instantly. He slid them back onto his face with ease, and met Jon with a smile.
“Martin, by the way. Sorry for intruding on you like that.”
“Jon, and it’s no trouble.”
Now that he was in the clear, Jon began to process what exactly had just happened to him. Fog, coming out of nowhere, and swallowing the world whole. Disappearing in almost an instant.
“What the hell was that?” he blurted out, unable to control himself on such high adrenaline.
“Sorry?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, just, that stuff with the fog? What was that?”
Martin gave him a small smile.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”
“Oh, very funny.”
They stood there in an awkward silence together before Martin spoke again.
“Where were you headed to?”
“Oh, just my friend’s bakery. The Admiral’s Regiment.”
“Your friend’s a big fan of the military?” Martin asked with a quirk in his voice.
“Not exactly. The Admiral is her cat”
That made Martin laugh in earnest, and Jon couldn’t help himself if he laughed along with him.
“I’ll accompany you th-” Martin couldn’t finish his sentence, as a harsh noise penetrated the air. It almost sounded like laughter but it was too sharp. Not loud or stark, but like it could draw blood if it so wished.
“What was that?” Jon asked immediately, worry seeping through his voice.
“Nothing to worry about if you come with me right now.” Martin said, immediately grabbing Jon’s hand and darting down the alley. Jon was thrust forward with the motion, and the two men pounded against the stone as they ran. The laughter just seemed to be getting louder and louder no matter where they ran. Martin pulled Jon along random alleyways and streets, but the insistent noise never ceased.
He made a sharp left, and stopped dead in his tracks, causing Jon to crash into him.
“Fuck,” he could hear Martin mutter under his breath. He peeked his head around to see what Martin was seeing, and that’s when he saw it. It was nothing, it was everything. It was humanoid, it was animalistic. It was horrible, it was fascinating. It was terrifying, and it was laughing at them. It outstretched what might have been a hand, pointing a knife
(hand?) knife (Knif̷̱̣̌ẻ̵̝?̷̡̲́)̸̟͔͍̎̂͠͝ ̴̦͔̘̀h̴̨̲̗͉͋͘ä̸̖̹̘́͆̕͝ṋ̶͉̼̑̋͝ḑ̸̢̱̣̮̩͓̀̂̎͐(̴̯͌̍̄̇h̷͓̖͌̉̄̐̍̀â̵̪̪̞̱͇͓̘̓ń̸̹͌̄́͒͛d̵̨͉͍̫̠͓̼͇͆͊̿͂̈́̒̋͂̀̿̚̚͜ķ̸̢͈̩̙̞̞͖̯̗͔̩̱̥̉n̴̨̛͇̝̩̱̖̬̙̔̈́͌̿͛̈́í̵̡̢̢̙͙̜̮͈̼̹̻͈̙̈́̊̓̐̒͜͠f̶̡̪̪͕͇̦̳͖̘͒͠ȅ̸̜͕͔͖̙̰̟̘̱̈́̏̒͌̂̈́̑͑͒͊̏͋̍̍̎̋͝)̵̡̯͇͕͖̲̣̰̖͐̄͛̐̈́͒̈́̽̍́̏͝͝ͅ
at them. If it weren’t for the pounding in his ears, Jon would have sworn his heart stopped entirely.
“Jon, do you trust me?” Martin blurted, wrapping an arm around him and taking his hand.
“What?”
“Do you trust me?” he repeated, this time with increasingly more urgency.
“Yes. Uh, wh-”
They were running. They were running towards the thing, and all the air swept out of Jon’s lungs. Just then, at the last possible second, when its grin was inches from his face, they leaped, and they were flying.
Above the buildings, above the skyline, above everything and nothing and they were weightless.
Jon’s thoughts were going a mile a minute, and the only thing he could properly fathom was the feel of Martin’s hand in his as they walked on nothing.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Jon exclaimed, craning his neck to try and catch another look at that creature in the alleyway.
“It was the Distortion. A being with no allegiance who will do the bidding of whoever feeds it.”
“WHAT??”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. You were never meant to get caught up in all of this. I’ll drop you off at the cafe, and I’ll draw it off. It’s me that it’s looking for anyway. You were never meant to be involved.”
Involved. Involved in what exactly? In angry police officers, in mysterious fog, in horrific nightmarish creatures made of nothing, in walking on air? He was dreaming. He had to be. None of this was real. Nothing was real. Magic isn’t real. Wizards aren’t real. Things like that aren’t real.
But then again, he was here, wasn’t he? Above everything else, looking down it all from the perspective of birds. Despite everything that happened today, he was here in this utterly peaceful moment.
“Jon, extend your legs for me. Walk with me.”
He did as he was told, hesitantly lowering his legs from their crouched position. He took a step, and then another step, and then he was walking. He was walking alongside Martin, hand in hand.
“Look at you,” Martin chuckled. “You’re a natural.”
Jon turned his head out to get a better view. The city, the hills, the sky bespeckled with warm hues of the sunset. It was serene. It was beautiful. It was new.
Jon had never been one to believe in magic, but miracles are performed every day, aren’t they?
He finally spotted Georgie's cafe below them, and he pointed it out.
“Just there.”
Martin nodded silently, and dipped them down back towards the earth. They landed on the hardwood of the balcony with a soft thud. Jon stepped down onto the balcony, and Martin removed his hand from their grasp, standing on the railing. Jon didn’t want to admit that he missed it, but no one was around to know. So he selfishly kept the thought to himself and indulged in the feeling of the loss.
“Stay here for a while, at least until the sun goes down properly. I’ll be sure to get rid of the Distortion by then.” He stood back up and fell back.
“That’s my boy.” he said with a smile, and he was gone.
It was just Jon, by himself. But something was different. Something was new.
“Jonathan Sims, WHAT are you doing on my balcony?”
Jon directed his attention towards the voice. There she was, Georgie. Looking as stern and disappointed as she usually did when she was cross with him, but an air of genuine concern and affection shone through her words.
“Georgie, you’re not going to believe a word I say.”