Work Text:
Jon had listened to the statement twice, just to make sure he was hearing it correctly.
Then again, as he ran up to Martin’s office, nearly tripping on the stairs and pounding on the door, begging him to be in there.
“Peter? Listen, I- oh .”
Jon ignored the flutter in his chest when Martin pulled open the door, instead grabbing his arms and staring him in the eyes. “ Martin . I found out how to leave.”
“W-what? Jon, you know I’m-”
“Busy? Please just- just listen to me. I- I know how to quit. To leave the Institute forever,” Jon said quickly, before Martin could shut the door. “Hear me out, okay?”
He hesitated, and Jon’s hopes wavered. Martin looked behind him, then out in the hallway, before nodding and stepping aside to let him in. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t leave.”
Jon felt around in his pocket and pulled out Eric Delano’s statement. “There’s this- you know Eric Delano? He worked here. He worked at the Magnus Institute, and quit .”
“Gerry Keay’s father? Yeah, he left, but I was told he was blind when he-”
Martin’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Jon, who looked away.
“ Fuck off .”
“It’s- it’s not- well, it’s the only way. But don’t you think it’s worth it? To- to leave all of this behind us?” Jon begged, grabbing Martin’s arm and sending a small shock up his wrist.
“Don’t you dare make it my choice,” Martin exclaimed, stepping backward and pulling his arm away. “Don’t you dare -”
“You don’t get it!” Jon nearly shouted, and immediately regretted it when he saw the look on Martin’s face. “I have hurt so many people just by being here. Fuck, you’re the one who told Basira about my… my eating habits . Those people did nothing wrong, and I’m ruining their life.”
“Jon. It is not your fault for what the Eye is making you do,” Martin told him sternly, his gaze seeming to pierce Jon right through. “You can’t blame yourself- but- this is permanent. Hell, this isn’t just- it’s not something you can just do! You don’t recover from stabbing your eyes out-”
“I know,” Jon said, his hands shaking. Martin shook his head desperately. “Martin, please. You don’t have to! But if I do it, the Eye loses its Archivist. We could leave together. Just us.”
“Have you told anyone else?” he asked, not making eye contact. “What if it- what if they get hurt? Shouldn’t they have a say in this?”
“They’ll be fine,” Jon whispered, though only half-believing it. But he was hurting them, and other people. He didn’t deserve them. “Don’t you want to leave?”
Martin bit his lip, then sighed, his voice so quiet that Jon had to step closer to hear it.
“Yes.”
He relaxed, and took Martin’s hand again, who shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not letting you do it alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Jon choked out and wrapped his arms around Martin. He jumped a little, then returned it. Silence followed as they hugged for what felt like hours. “Are you ready?” Jon eventually asked, feeling guiltier by the second.
“Whenever you are,” Martin mumbled, and Jon smiled sadly as he pulled away and looked him in the eyes. Martin raised a hand and rested it lightly onto Jon’s face, tracing his cheek. “I- I actually never realized how green your eyes were.”
Jon’s heart leaped a little, though he wasn’t sure why. He forced himself to chuckle as Martin brushed a stray hair away from his face.
“I- um-” Jon didn’t know what to say. He felt something, something that he had never felt before. It was warm and… different. He was wary of it. Martin watched him, searching his face with concern. “I- like your hair?”
Martin laughed, and Jon realized how much he had missed that sound. “You really need to get better at complimenting people, you know.”
“Maybe that’s something we can work on,” Jon said softly. Martin smiled back at him, and Jon tried desperately to keep that image in mind as they left the office.
“Are you sure this is the… best way?” Martin asked nervously as Jon brought in the small knife. “I mean… I don’t want it to hurt.”
“It’s never not going to hurt,” Jon said quietly, not looking at him. “Besides… acid would leave scars.”
“Are you sure Eric was telling the truth? What if it doesn’t work? What if you just go blind and the Eye is still there? Maybe we should tell the others-”
“ Martin ,” Jon interrupted. “It’s going to work. But we can’t tell them - Basira would try to stop me. I’ve made up my mind.”
“If- if you say so.”
Martin let out a shaky breath and began pulling out bandages. They were in a supply closet, close enough to the reception for the ambulance but far away from other people. He laid out the first aid kit and the alcohol, clenching his jaw harder the more Jon shifted beside him, cleaning the knife.
He bit his lip, then placed down his phone a little harder than he should have. The table rattled, and Jon looked up in surprise. “Jon- fuck , I can’t do this.”
He watched Martin with sadness, then regret. “Okay,” he whispered, placing his hand over Martin’s to stop it from shaking.
“That’s it?” Martin whispered. “You’re really going to? No… no backing out now?”
Jon nodded, his body swaying as Martin quickly scooted over to stop him from falling. He reached over, and their heads bumped. Jon looked up in surprise, suddenly aware of how close their faces were.
“S-sorry.”
But he didn’t move away.
They sat there holding hands, their heads pressed together in the dim room. Jon could hear Martin’s heartbeat, and eventually pulled away to look at him in the eyes.
“This is going to be the last time I can see you.”
“Goddammit Jon,” Martin breathed, and he raised a hand to touch Jon’s cheek. His voice was quiet, his breath warm. “Why are you always so existential?”
“I can’t help it,” Jon murmured, not wanting to pull away. He knew what was coming, but decided they deserved just one moment of rest.
Martin hesitated, his hand pulling back. “I- I don’t know if you-”
Jon didn’t know what he was doing as he moved forward and pressed his lips against Martin’s. He didn’t know what he was doing when he suddenly felt embarrassed and was about to pull away when Martin pulled him closer and rested his hands on Jon’s shoulders.
They were kissing , he realized.
He felt relieved, for a second. Relieved that the world hadn’t fully turned against him, and relieved that there was someone left who cared about him.
“We got a little side-tracked,” Martin chuckled after a minute. The room was silent, apart from the sound of their quick breathing. “Oops.”
“Maybe we could stay like this for a little bit?” Jon whispered, and Martin squeezed his hand tighter in response and kissed him again on the cheek, nodding a little. He relaxed, aware of how small the room was, yet how full it felt with both of them together.
“As long as you want,” Martin grinned, and Jon rested his head on Martin’s shoulder, who wrapped his arms around him and laid back against the wall.
Jon was about to close his eyes when a painful headache hit him and he lurched forward, feeling sick. Martin immediately grabbed him to prevent him from falling over as Jon clutched his head in agony.
“What’s wrong? Jon, look at me- what happened?” Martin’s voice sounded distant, but Jon pushed it away and focused. He squeezed his eyes shut and Looked.
“Oh shit- Martin, it’s Elias,” Jon sputtered, the headache becoming louder, his head pounding. “He’s here. Fuck , Martin, what do we do?”
“Take a deep breath,” Martin told him, his voice shaky. He turned Jon to look him in the eyes, watching him intensely. Jon sucked in a breath and clutched one of his hands. “Jon, this means he knows what we’re trying to do, and it’s going to work.”
“Please don’t leave,” Jon whispered, grabbing the knife and squeezing it tightly. “Don’t let him get me.”
“I promise,” Martin whispered back, and held Jon’s hand tightly as he raised it towards his face. “I promise.”
Jon pressed it into his right eye, bracing himself for the pain. Instead, his hand was pushed away by something invisible and the knife hit the ground. Martin jumped back in surprise as it clattered before his feet.
“Oh god,” Jon said as the realization hit him. He was about to reach for the knife again when he heard confused shouting from outside. They both jerked their heads up, silently listening.
Suddenly, someone began pounding on the door and the headache hit him again.
“Jon. Jon, listen to me, this is a terrible idea,” a voice from outside spat. Elias’s voice, and Martin recoiled. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t let Martin convince you.”
“Sorry Elias, there’s a door in the way,” Martin said loudly, smirking. Jon tried to smile, but instead found himself curious to hear what Elias had to say.
His voice was so direct, so commanding. Jon felt himself being pulled towards it, like he had no choice but to keep listening. He turned towards the door, but Martin threw out his hand and grabbed his arm. “Don’t let him get to you. Jon, please look at me.”
Jon turned to see Martin holding the knife, his face twisted with regret. “Martin- I- the Eye won’t let me. I can’t- it has to be someone else.”
The room seemed to grow darker as Martin realized what Jon was asking. He shook his head once, then twice when Jon squeezed his hand. “No. No, Jon, this is fucking-”
“Open the damn door, Martin. You both know this is ridiculous,” Elias growled from outside. Jon’s headache was growing more painful by the second, and Martin’s eyes began to shine with tears. It was ridiculous.
He was overwhelmed by the noise around him, the pounding from the door feeling like it was rattling Jon’s skull from the inside. “Martin, please. Don’t let him win,” he begged, and Martin let out a strained sob. “It’s going to work. I’ll be okay.”
Martin’s breathing was quick as he let Jon guide his hand towards his face. It felt like pushing against a force-field, but Jon forced his eyes to stay open as the knife got closer. “I love you,” Martin whispered. “I always did.”
Jon was going to say it back. He was . He had to . But his mouth wasn’t working.
The knife then pierced his left eye and Jon began screaming in pain. It was like nothing he ever felt before. Pain seemed to jolt up his face into his brain, stretching across his entire body.
The second eye was worse, both of them trying to move as the knife began to get soaked in blood, the liquid dripping down Martin’s hand.
But Jon wasn’t the only one in pain.
The whole Institute was.
Everyone’s eyes were bleeding.
Martin grunted with pain and nearly let go, though he took a deep breath and held onto Jon even tighter. “Oh fuck. Oh god.”
The Eye began to thrash inside him, trying to stitch up the wounds in a desperate attempt to save its Archivist.
I am not yours , Jon thought silently, as he fell to the ground, his vision black.
Martin quickly wrapped the alcohol soaked rag around Jon’s eyes, the liquid burning into his face. He tried to scream, but the pain was too much and all he managed was a choked cry.
Martin hugged him, his arms warm as Jon found himself in a more comfortable spot than he had ever been. “Oh fuck , Jon, I’m sorry. Fuck .”
Jon tried to comfort him, to say it’s okay because he had never felt this peaceful in his life. He could feel the strings that have had a hold of him for so long finally get untied, the Eye silently screaming in anger and pain as its final grasp on him faded away into darkness.
Instead, Jon reached up and felt around for Martin’s face, feeling wet liquid on his cheeks. “It worked. It’s- it’s finally gone .”
He began to sob with relief, trying to hold tighter onto the memories of what Martin looked like, the way his eyes brightened when Jon kissed him and the way he beamed whenever Jon sipped his tea.
Elias had stopped pounding on the door, and Jon could hear him breathing heavily. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he hissed from outside. “You’ve ruined everything! ”
“Oh fuck off !” Martin snapped at the door, then turned back towards Jon. “I’m calling the ambulance now. Are- are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better,” Jon assured him weakly, his head throbbing but the pain fading. “T-thank you.”
“Goddammit Jon,” Martin whispered, and Jon wiped his tears away before leaning forward to kiss him.
“I love you too,” Jon told him breathlessly. “It’s done. We’re free.”
He heard the door swing open, spilling the leftover alcohol and causing it to seep into Jon’s shoes. He felt Elias’s presence over them, and Martin pulled him up and went in front of him. Elias’s voice was low and angry. “Was it worth it ? Ruining your life to-”
He was cut off suddenly when the sound of a fist colliding into a face filled the room, and then again. Jon heard him stumble backwards and hit the wall behind him. “Martin!”
“Let’s go,” Martin said to Jon bitterly. “I got you.”
He couldn’t help but smile as Martin guided him out. “You just- punched him,” he muttered, his throat dry. His eyes felt awful, but he felt safer next to Martin.
“Yup, I did,” he told him with a hint of pride in his voice. They were walking slowly, Jon’s steps unsure.
Wanting to break the silence, Jon asked softly: “Do you still feel it?”
There was no answer for a second, but he could feel Martin’s grip tighten on his arm. “You’re free. That’s what matters.”
Jon shook his head. “No. No , I Saw you- every person here… their eyes were-”
“Jon, it’s okay ,” Martin stopped him and grabbed his shoulders. He could feel his presence in front of him, and wished so desperately he could see Martin’s face. “I think it’s… it’s fine. Everything’s okay.”
He let out a shaky breath, trying to remember the shape of Martin’s face, but the pain was still there and it was hard to think through it. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Martin whispered. Then Jon pulled him closer and kissed him. He laughed, but did it back. “We’re still in the Institute, you know.”
He gently guided Jon towards the exit, and Jon took a deep breath as the ambulance began bombarding each of them with questions. When the first needle poked his skin, the pain was already fading and he felt tired.
The last thing Jon remembered before drifting off into a non guaranteed sleep, clutching Martin’s hand, was the light blue of his eyes and the way they seemed to understand everything, though the memory was already fading.