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Jon wakes up to a gut-clenching feeling of blindness.
It’s not unusual; it’s happened most mornings since he moved into the tunnels, whenever he makes it to his cot down there instead of falling asleep in his office. The part of him that is so intrinsically linked to the Eye now doesn’t like being separated from it like this. He waits for the feeling to fade to something more bearable than waking terror and makes to stretch.
At first he thinks this must be a nightmare, old memories mixing with the present to create a scenario where he lies in bed in the tunnels- where they’re supposed to be safe, at least relatively- with his ankles tied together and his hands bound behind his back. His jaw aches, held open wide by the rubber of a gag. When he tries to open his eyes he finds them held fast by the tightness of a blindfold.
He squirms. It’s strange for him to dream normally, since his coma, but that must be it. How could someone get into the tunnels and walk past Basira, Melanie, and Daisy to take him somewhere else? Someone would wake up, and they may not like him but they wouldn’t just let this happen to him without a fight!
Wouldn’t they?
He’s starting to hyperventilate, the blockage in his mouth combined with his rising fear makes his lungs feel tight and shallow. No matter how much he wriggles and kicks, he cannot find any give to his bonds.
“Jon.”
All the fear crashes down at the sound of Daisy’s voice, soft and rough. They found him, whatever happened, and they came for him. Daisy will make sure he makes it out alright. Whatever their past, he’s entirely confident that she won’t let someone else harm him if she can prevent it anymore.
He realizes that the surface he’s lying on isn’t his cot in the tunnels (of course it isn’t why would it be they’ve taken him somewhere) when it dips next to him under Daisy’s weight. She pulls him across the mattress to set his head in her lap.
Jon squirms and butts his head against her hand when she just rests it in his hair for a long moment, making no move to remove the gag or blindfold. Trying to talk through the gag while still keeping his voice down (he doesn’t want to draw his captors here he doesn’t know how far they might be or if Daisy’s already dealt with them is she hurt?) makes his words into pathetic-sounding whimpers, but he does it anyway when she still does nothing to remove them.
“Shh, you’re alright.” She strokes his hair, movements slow and deliberate, even though he obviously isn’t. "Just listen!"
His thrashing makes something clatter, and he realizes that his ankles aren’t just tied together, one of them has some kind of shackle latched around it, connecting him to some unknown object. It makes him struggle harder- if whoever brought him here comes back, Daisy can’t just pick him up and run, she needs to unlock the shackle or cut its chain or something so they can get out of here.
“Jon. Stop it.” Her hands close around his head, still gentle but with their position clearly communicating some kind of threat. “Everything’s fine. If you just hold still, I can explain, alright?”
He protests through the gag, but does as she says, so they can get it over with and go.
Daisy’s hand returns to stroking through his hair. “We can’t keep on like this, Jon. We can’t keep hurting people. Either of us.”
Jon’s stomach swoops with anxiety and he whines. Daisy places her other hand on his back, rubbing little circles between his pulled-back shoulders.
“If we don’t feed them, we’ll starve them out eventually.” Her voice is thick with desperate hope. She must know that this won’t work, that it might kill them. Jon shakes his head. Daisy sighs. “We have to try.”
And if it doesn’t work? Do we just die? he wants to ask, but the sound is all reduced to muffled grunts. His jaw already aches. Daisy seems to understand his point anyway.
“Basira’s going to come down here every few days with supplies, and to check on us. If things really go wrong, she can let us out.”
Jon wants to ask what she means by us, why Daisy herself can’t call the experiment to a halt, but he gets his answer before he can say anything. Daisy shifts, one of her legs moving a bit under his head, and Jon can hear the sound of a chain rattling against the floor. A chain like the one attached to his own ankle.
He’s properly terrified, now.
He thrashes again, even though he knows it's useless- if Daisy and Basira were the ones who arranged his bonds then they're the kind he won't be able to get out of unassisted. She has to see that this won't work, that it's insane. Some gut part of Daisy has to realize that the Entities aren't going to just let go like that; they'll feed on them if there's nothing else, like Jude Perry said. They aren't going to make it out of this alive.
His next movement is involuntary, a full-body jerk at the realization that he's going to be left alone and helpless with a Hunter with no prey.
Daisy's hand strokes a long line down his back. "This is for the best, Jon. Don't you want to be free of it?"
Everyone asks him that, does he want to be free of the Eye, as though he ever had a choice in the matter. He didn't ask to be tied to it in the first place, and there's nothing he can do to get rid of it, whatever Georgie and Basira and now apparently Daisy think. It's part of him now, twined around his brainstem with a deadman's switch to all his vital functions if he could manage to tear it loose. The only choice he had was waking up from the coma. It won't take kindly to rejection, now that he's volunteered that piece of himself.
But of course he can't tell Daisy any of that. She's already ensured he can't. He can't even do much to resist when she takes his silence for assent and shifts to lie beside him and start playing The Archers. He could wriggle out of her grip, and maybe she'd let him go, but it's cold in the tunnels, and he's too tired of all of this to deny himself that kind of comfort.
"Basira dug this up- 's her old iPod Nano, isn't that funny. We didn't just download The Archers, I've got some music, too. Some stuff I thought you might like, nerd stuff, I dunno. Not like you ever mentioned listening to anything but scary stories. Be good for you to branch out," Daisy murmurs into his hair. He tries not to tremble.
-
He doesn't know if Daisy has a watch or a clock but at some point she decides they've been lying there listening long enough and rises to do something else. He can't make any sense of her noises until something starts humming, followed shortly by the smell of food.
"We've got a microwave, a hot plate, and a mini fridge," Daisy narrates, "Figured out how to run them off car batteries. Plus stuff that doesn't need any of that. Canned soup for dinner sound alright?"
He doesn't dignify that with an attempt at mumbling through the gag. Daisy keeps chattering away anyway.
"I can take the cuffs off your ankles if you're not going to do anything reckless. Still be stuck to the wall, but you'll be able to walk around, at least."
He grunts at that, desperate to gain back any kind of independence, and tunes out the rest of her narration of their supplies. He already wants a Statement, the hunger clawing at the back of his brain. How long is he going to be able to last without one? It hurts.
Daisy unbinds his ankles and pulls him to his feet, hand grasping the loop of his bound arms near his shoulder in a way that sends a shock of terror down Jon's spine, throwing him back to an isolated patch of forest for a split second before he can catch his bearings and walk where he's led, choking down the instinct to get away.
It would help if she undid the bindings on his wrists, but she doesn't. She helps him into a seat, the edge of a table pressing against his chest if he leans forward a bit, and he hears the clink of dishes.
His jaw aches at the sudden absence of the gag, hinges popping at the sudden freedom of movement. He coughs, swallows, clears his throat. There's a spoonful of soup between his lips before he can say anything, and he swallows on instinct.
"Daisy," he says when the spoon moves away, trying to think of how best to phrase his plea.
"No questions," she scolds, pressing more soup into his mouth. Her tone of voice almost makes him choke, shocking him back to the clearing again. He's able to untense his spine after a few deep breaths and the feeling of Daisy's hand rubbing his shoulder, not an ounce of threat in the movement, but he can't seem to find his voice again as she continues feeding him by hand.
She did this to him, her and Basira. Whatever trust he gave her, it's dwindling rapidly every time something makes the situation sink in. Neither of them would agree with him that what they've arranged is either a double murder or a murder-suicide, but that doesn't make it incorrect. (He's dead he's dead they're killing him he's dead.)
-
The gag is back as soon as he's been coaxed through a bowl of lukewarm soup and a glass of water sipped through a straw, and it makes him want to cry. Even with the Circus, the wad of cloth they shoved in his mouth didn't make his jaw hurt so much.
He listens to Daisy go through the same motions to prepare her own dinner, dishes clinking just enough to fill the oppressive silence. She seems to believe in this mad experiment wholeheartedly. He suspects she needs it to be a good idea, both to justify what she's doing to him (because she feels bad about hurting him before he knows she does she can't have changed her mind just because he can't forgive it she said she understood) and because she needs to think that there's a way to sever herself from the Hunt. As for the others...
Basira believes it, maybe. She needs Daisy to be able to be free of the Hunt just as much as Daisy does, even if she still doesn't quite know how to relate to her partner without that bloody pulse underscoring their interactions. He doubts she's as optimistic about his chances, but Basira would probably consider most things acceptable collateral for Daisy's sake. She's already almost written him off that way once.
He wonders if Melanie and Martin even know what's going on. They could easily have lied to them, said that Jon and Daisy were going on a research trip or something (if Martin even cared to notice he was gone). Melanie might be willing to go along with this, at least as far as not interfering with what Basira did. Maybe she thinks it's a good idea- maybe she told Georgie and the two of them agreed that if Jon wasn't going to help himself (as if he hadn't tried as if he could!) then someone had to take it upon themselves and this was just the way it has to be.
Maybe Martin knows and doesn't care. He gave them Jess Tyrell's tape, after all. Maybe he thinks this is the best way to put down the monster.
Eventually Daisy joins him on the mattress, curling around him and heaping blankets atop the two of them in a delicate balance, enough to keep off the chill of the tunnels but not so many that the weight sends them into dreams of the Buried. He supposes that means it's time to sleep.
-
He loses track of time terrifyingly quickly, with no wind or sunlight on his skin and no eyes to watch the clock Daisy assures him was brought down to their little prison camp. Daisy doesn't talk much; most of her life has been policework for years, and if they're trying to starve the Eye out she doesn't want to accidentally give a Statement. She just flips through the programs on the iPod, feeds him and herself three meals a day, and watches as Jon fumbles his way into a blind, hands-free understanding of the space within reach of his chain. He topples the chairs a few times, but eventually he puts together a mental map decent enough to pace and walk to his seat unaided at mealtimes.
When Daisy does speak, she's apologetic. He didn't ask for this, and it's harder on him than it is on her, what with his greater restraints. He's increasingly convinced that she's convinced herself that this not only can work, it's going to. If someone calls the experiment off, it's going to have to be Basira.
Basira, who visits around the third or fourth day, when Jon is just starting to lose count.
He and Daisy both go tense at her approach- he knows because they're sitting next to each other on the mattress, listening to their eight millionth episode of The Archers. Daisy's reassured him at least a dozen times that she and Basira scouted out the tunnels for ages in every direction, making sure that the little room the two of them are tucked into is safe, but things can only be so safe in the tunnels. If it's something with ill intent there will be very little either of them can do to protect themselves.
He's just started wondering if Daisy is taking the whole "throwing off the Hunt" thing seriously enough to refuse to defend herself against a monster creeping in from the tunnels, and if so whether he can convince her to release his hands- if she even has the key for that- and give him a fighting chance when she slumps. He has a split second of hysterical panic, wondering if whatever it is has managed to kill her from meters away before his rational mind wrests back control and supplies a more reasonable explanation. It must be-
"Basira!" Daisy sounds far happier to see her than Jon is, though he has to admit that the ire he felt the first day or so down here has faded significantly in the face of an opportunity to hear a real voice other than Daisy's.
"Alright down here?" Basira asks as Daisy pulls herself up from the mattress. Jon stays where he is and grunts as much of his displeasure through the gag as he can. He can picture the dispassionate, infinitely practical look Basira must be giving him as she says, "We had to do something, Jon. We couldn't just let you continue to run amok."
He's momentarily cowed by the shame he feels at the reminder, and it's more than enough time for Daisy to start demanding updates on how things are going aboveground. Basira speaks over her, "I don't want to say too much, given..." He imagines she's giving him a Look, presumably unwilling to share for the same reason Daisy doesn't talk to him much, as though his mere presence might compel a Statement (he doesn't know that it won't). "But everything's more or less as you left it. Everyone's holding up as well as they can."
"Right," Daisy says, a gritted-tooth-smile voice. "Same down here."
"Anything you need?" Basirea asks. "Are you feeling alright?"
"A bit weak, is all," Daisy says. "Might not even be from that, could just be leftover from the coffin. I've been keeping up with some of the physical therapy, but not as much as I should."
Jon's grunts are ignored. They aren't even intending to be words. He's sure they can extrapolate his desire for sight, voice, and freedom on their own. He'd even let the chain be without protest for it. He wants to hear the sound of his own voice again, in words spoken fully instead of grunted through a gag or rasped out between bites of food, never too much because he's afraid that he'll be denied the rest of his meal and the gag placed back if he comes too close to trying to compel Daisy. The shape and soundtrack of his life now are too familiar, and it puts a pit in his stomach. But at the same time... at least with Nikola he could see.
He rolls over, so he's fairly sure his back is to Basira, and just tries to outlast her. The appeal of a new voice has vanished. Daisy's a friend, more or less, maybe, but Basira isn't. Not in the same way, not since before Leitner and that was already a lie anyway. Daisy's seen him at his worst, that's more accurate. He's grudgingly comfortable with her seeing him like this in a way he isn't with Basira. In a way that's humiliating enough to prod him toward tears the more he thinks about it. He tries desperately to tune out their conversation. If he's stuck here no matter what, he won't be the one to take this from Daisy. His misery is set, evidently with no hope of appeal. Daisy is determined to see this out, to be free of the Hunt, so he won't do anything to jeopardize it too significantly. Daisy just sounds glad Basira's talking to her, and that hits too close to home for Jon to interfere.
He still hasn't decided whether or not it's likely Martin knows what's going on. He hasn't decided which option is preferable, either.
At least plotting to imprison him means he's thinking of Jon. If he is.
-
Everything feels much less comfortable after Basira leaves. Jon's fine, but he can tell Daisy is freshly aware of their privations, and it's taking a while to build back up to confidence and determination. Basira asked if Daisy wanted out, and Jon was glad she said no. He doubts that they'd let him out, even if Daisy went. And then what? Someone comes down to do everything Daisy does for him, even more awkward for having to make a trip? Or do they just leave him chained up to starve, by both natural and supernatural means?
He hopes that someone at least liked him enough as a human to do something to put him out of his misery if it came to that. But he isn't holding out any particular hope.
Daisy never quite builds back up to her pre-Basira energy. Jon can tell by the way she moves that things are getting harder. They're getting harder for him, too.
It hurts, to be so hungry. He thought that the way he felt after waking up from his coma was the worst he could feel, in this particular arena, but he was wrong. It makes his whole body ache, and his nights restless. So he's triply deprived. Going out for fresh statements, fine, fair enough. But even the paper ones? Even his dreams?
It just confirms that he's a monster, that he can think of all that with longing. Just because it doesn't require active effort on his part doesn't mean it wasn't hurting people.
-
Basira comes again, he thinks. Jon doesn't really rouse from the mattress. Daisy's still feeding them three times a day, but he doubts she'd make the effort if she were only responsible for herself. It's started to hurt to have the blindfold on, a burn that shifts with the fabric when it's nudged around by millimeters, but even in the moments Daisy gives him to answer questions free of the gag, he doesn't mention it. She can't compel honesty when she asks how he's holding up.
They listen to the Archers, he thinks. Basira leaves at some point. He thinks...
-
Jon doesn't pace anymore. His knees won't hold up. Daisy stops moving from the mattress. Time fuzzes and skips. He isn't sure if it's been long enough for the immobility to be significant rather than a mirage of home-cooked fear.
He likes having her at his back, though. He imagines telling a past Jon, knife to his throat in empty woods, that he'd enjoy being little spoon for the woman holding the knife. It makes him laugh, wheezy through the gag, but he's too tired to explain, if he could and Daisy bothered to ask. She squeezes him, a bit, in a friendly way.
He can't even keep his principles, trust easing back into comfort with Daisy because he's too pathetic to live with the nothing of doing otherwise.
-
Jon isn't sure if they should've eaten by now. His head hurts.
Daisy is wheezing behind him. It's dark.
-
Where is he?
-
Who is that? It's not Daisy.
Daisy says something.
He thinks the not-Daisy person is shouting, or just speaking forcefully. Daisy doesn't move, and she's cold at his back.
He's cold.
-
He drifted away and forgot things. Can he remember them now? Some came back, because he knows to be afraid. Did all of them?
-
Where's Martin? Wasn't Martin going to see him, while he's sick? He's come to the hospital before, when is he visiting again?
Jon tries to ask the nurse, but he was never awake enough to open his eyes, and he falls asleep before he can spit out the thing in his mouth. Or did they have to intubate him...?
-
What is he forgetting?
-
Jon is dying. He knows it with cold certainty, when he listens hard trying to make out what they're saying on the Archers and realizes it isn't playing at all.
He's dying, and it's going to hurt the entire time. The only thing worse that knowing that is knowing he'll forget it. How many times will he have the same icy moment of realization before it's over?
How many times has he had it already?
-
There's something wet and burning over his eyes. He was crying, but he doesn't remember why. He doesn't know where the feeling is coming from.
Did they take his eyes first?
Nikola said she'd leave his eyes, that he was supposed to watch the show. Didn't she?
-
The Archivist doesn't know what's in his mouth. He can't spit it out.
The Hunter holds him. That's the only thing that's alright. The Archivist isn't sure where all of his eyes went, but the Hunter likes him. She'll help.
-
He's hungry. He wants another guest, but without his eyes he can't look to find any. Where are all his eyes? Is the Hunter going to help find them soon?
-
Oh, that's right. He doesn't have eyes when he isn't asleep. He forgot.
-
The Archivist sleeps.
The Hunter sleeps.
-
The Detective arrives to check on them, and screams.
No one hears her. She's alone.