Work Text:
Back then, Jon had a plan. It might not have been the best plan, sure, nor was it the winning plan when all votes were down and…
And it failed, yeah, after all, he wasn’t about to see it through.
But.
He had a plan at the time.
And it wasn’t even that bad of a plan: it was an equally bad plan when all other options were considered as well. In the end, revenge truly is an odd and messy thing. Violence of that kind is exhausting and there is screaming, and the room is full of noise, and blood makes it difficult to hold the knife properly, and he is panting and sweating from the effort, and then Elias is there, unconscious on the floor and bleeding.
And.
Dying.
And Jon is still there, too, almost detached from this awful mess. Heavy breathing and wide eyes. Staring. Elias is very much dying on the floor and Jon just then realizes he doesn’t want him to. The Eye is oddly loud at that moment and Jon wonders how much it already knows and how much it wants him to save Elias.
And, despite all that, it’s still Jon’s choice.
The world seems to have slowed down, but Jon is aware that time hasn’t really stopped.
At one point, Jon had a plan. At one point, said plan did not include saving Jonah’s life – because this man is Jonah Magnus, that same Jonah Magnus who ended the world as it was – but , as Jon stands there, towering over Elias’s bleeding body as his own heart beats loud and fast inside his chest, Jon finds himself hesitating on doing what he had planned to do.
It’s poor timing at best.
Jon knows he won’t see this through.
Jon moves closer, hands trembling as he inspects the wounds he caused on Elias.
No.
Not Elias, he corrects himself.
Jon wastes a second or two trying to remember Elias for who he actually was before Jonah, but it’s a difficult task: Jonah is all that Jon knows. And he is dying.
After all this time, he is dying.
And Jon can save him. Maybe. Jon wants to… be able to save him? Maybe. After stabbing him, he wants to save him. It’s laughable. Either way, this is not really his best moment. Either way, there is no going back from this choice.
And, still, Jon leans down and pulls Elias up, hoping against all odds that he is a terrible stabber. Elias groans but doesn’t resist the movement. He looks pale and unusually vulnerable. He looks just human.
And he is dying.
Jon should have thought it through a little more, but what-ifs and should-have-beens won’t keep Elias alive, so Jon better act fast. It really wasn’t the best plan. If Jon waits a little longer, they will be found there. If Jon hesitates a little more, Elias is sure to die.
Jon makes up his mind. It might still not be the best plan again, but it is the one Jon can stand to live with.
Elias wakes up slowly. The pain is remarkable. It’s an unescapable feeling that washes over him as soon as he wakes up, but he quickly realizes something far more important: he is waking up. And that, as far as he had always believed, is a privilege of the living.
Elias closes his eyes tightly and, as if having his eyes closed would keep the pain at bay, he breathes in, careful and slow. Pain follows right away. A wave of nausea, the pull of flesh held together by thread and luck: he opens his eyes again, but, in the darkness of the room, there isn’t much he can recognize. The smell of mold and dry blood is the next best clue.
The tunnels. Someone moved him there. Someone stitched him back together. Someone saved him.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Jon.
There is some noise as Jon moves closer and, suddenly, bright white light hits Elias’s eyes and he flinches.
“Don’t move,” Jon hisses.
Exasperation and exhaustion drip from his words as blood pools on Elias’s chest and sticks to bandages that Elias prefers not to question. Elias’s breathing picks up a little at the rise of pain. Jon frowns, or so Elias expects him to do, still blind by the sudden light. Jon sets the flashlight down and checks the bandages, undoing it just enough to inspect the closing wounds.
Elias brings his hand up, but Jon pushes it away. He glances at Elias’s face, and, for a moment, their eyes meet. Elias’s eyes are too bright, and he hopes Jon will show him the kindness of not mentioning it.
Jon’s fingers hover over the wounds but he doesn’t touch Elias any more than needed. Elias can imagine those wounds clearly: they are ugly and discolored by now, still held together by thread and hope. A clear visual sign of where they stand in regard to each other.
“You stabbed me,” Elias says quietly and it’s not a question. It is a simple statement of fact.
Jon nods, and his hand reaches for the bandages again. Elias glances down and notices that they are starting to get dirty, but there is no room for complaining: medical supplies are not easily accessible after the end of the world as it was.
“Don’t,” Jon says and Elias frowns for a second, before Jon clarifies: “Don’t move.”
“And you saved me as well,” Elias goes on and it is simply another statement of fact.
Jon nods again, slowly wrapping the bandages around him to keep the wounds as protected as these bandages can do. Elias can tell Jon is bracing for the questions that should follow, but Elias prefers not to take such obvious paths.
And so, Elias doesn’t ask. He watches Jon for a moment, studying him as Jon cleans up and puts those rare supplies back on his bag. After a moment of Elias considering the awkwardness of their situation, Jon asks plainly:
“The Eye is keeping you alive, isn’t it?”
Elias is a little surprised. He smiles.
“You tell me, Archivist. Is it?”
“Don’t call me that again.”
“Of course. Jon.”
The way Elias says it is a little too intimate, which makes Jon look away. Elias imagines his cheeks warm, but Jon simply switches off the flashlight and says:
“Since you are awake now, we should get moving.”
They walk for an unknown amount of time until they find themselves on the outskirts of London. Time is different since the world ended.
Everything is different since the world ended.
And Jon doesn’t have a plan.
There are no secret hideouts. There are no safe havens. Elias fucked them all over. And Jon saved the bastard. He had a plan back then, he knew what he should do, and yet, he couldn’t see it through.
There was Elias, bleeding out and dying. There was the stained knife dropped on the floor. There were Jon’s trembling hands and loud thoughts. There was the Eye calling to them.
To him.
The turmoil that followed that mess. The dizzying guilt, the bitter regret.
The fear.
Jon glances back at Elias, considering his current options. Elias smiles at him, polite and oddly sweet, and he doesn’t have to say there is no one else left now. Jon has become Elias’s keeper.
“Do you regret it?” Jon asks him.
They are leaving London, and he slows down to brace for the answer because there is no going back now. Elias doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t take a moment to think it over. He simply says:
“No.”
And then, he walks past Jon, as if he already knows where they should go.
It takes Jon a second to realize what is happening and then he follows after Elias, examining that “No.” in his mind. He hopes that somehow, in some way, that could mean something better than what it says. It’s delusional and Jon knows there is nothing to be found there: Elias – Jonah – is still the same villain he seemed to be when Jon was holding that knife.
“Do you?” Elias suddenly asks, without looking back at him.
“Excuse me?”
Elias chuckles softly.
“Saving me, Jon.”
Jon blinks. He takes a moment before answering with a level of certainty he only realized then:
“No.”
Elias smiles, but Jon hears it more than he sees it. They walk in silence after that, not a single word until London is a long way behind them.
The domain they find themselves in looks like the it survived wildfire. It’s scorched earth and it makes Jon think of Jude Perry. The smell of burning flesh lingers in the air and ashes get carried away with the dust in the wind. Jon finds himself tracing the scar in his hand.
Elias’s eyes follow Jon’s thumb as he rubs his palm.
“It’s…best not to linger here,” Jon says, trying to sound calm and collected.
But Jon is an awful liar.
Or maybe Elias is just really good at reading this man.
“Agreed,” Elias says because The Desolation is rarely kind. “Have you decided on our destination yet, Jon?”
Jon doesn’t answer the question. He seems lost in thought, looking at the burnt trees not too far away. Elias wonders if he heard his question at all.
“We could go back,” Elias says softly, too caring to sound honest to Jon’s ears despite being genuine.
Jon breathes in, still rubbing his scarred hand. Elias tilts his head a little, still watching Jon. He recognizes the urge in him, and he smiles again. He moves a little closer, standing right next to Jon. He looks at the same carbonized tree.
Jon’s mind sees too far away to be reached by casual conversation. Elias knows how to proceed and he trusts that Jon will appreciate it enough.
“Tell me, Jon. Tell me about Jude Perry.”
That seems to do the trick. Jon turns to face him, and they watch each other for a few seconds before Jon sighs and drops his hands.
“There is nothing to tell. She burned me… that’s. That’s all.”
Elias smiles at him.
“Oh, Jon. Shall we play such unnecessary games?”
Jon looks away, seeming embarrassed by his own lie, and Elias knows precisely when and where to insist. The incision is precise.
“Tell me about your last encounter with Jude Perry. Tell me of her death.”
Jon tenses up at the compelling, and it’s clear to Elias that the demand makes a shiver run through his body. Such a gentle way of compelling him is not enough to force Jon into speaking, but Elias offers it as an excuse so Jon can allow himself to face that fear.
“I…” Jon starts and pauses. He looks back at Elias and licks his chapped lips. He closes his eyes and breathes that awful smell in again before nodding and saying: “Statement of the Archivist, taken by Jonah Magnus, in situ.”
Elias chuckles at the introduction, but it only results in a cold glare. He wonders if Jon is aware that he recognizes himself in what he has become. Elias doesn’t push it. It’s not the right moment.
“Tell me about Jude Perry, then,” Elias says. No more compelling needed than simply asking this time around.
It had been a long time since Elias took a statement like this. It’s thrilling. And it’s Jon. It’s the world as it is now. It’s exciting.
And…
The Archivist needs him.
“Thank you,” Elias whispers one day and his words are almost swallowed by the awful screams of the domain they are walking through. It’s unprompted but Jon doesn’t need to ask about it.
In fact, Jon is kind enough to not to bring it up again.
“You have been through quite the killing spree, Jon,” Elias comments as they walk through what seems to be a barren and endless shoreline.
“It was…not that.”
“Is that so?”
Jon glares at Elias but Elias just looks amused. Then, he stops walking and closes his eyes, smiling. He sighs and his smile grows.
“Do you feel it, Jon?”
Jon is doing his best to pretend he hasn’t felt a thing since they started wandering away from London. But he does.
The Eye is calling.
“It’s calling us home.”
Jon keeps walking, ignoring Elias, ignoring the Eye and pretending there is a sense of normalcy to be found in this post-apocalyptic world.
“Jon,” Elias says, still standing there.
Jon finally stops walking and looks at him. Elias has a blissed-out expression on his face. His lips are parted, and his breathing is a little fast. He seems turned on.
“It’s bliss, Jon.”
The way he calls to him is enough to make Jon blush. It’s unexpectedly sexual. Jon’s heart beats faster and his face burns, but he cannot look away. Elias brushes his fingertips over his own lips, moving his hand down his own throat.
“Jon,” he moans.
Elias closes his eyes again and tilts his head back a little. Jon cannot feel the same pleasure Elias seems to feel, but he can feel the call. It’s tempting to accept it. Elias’s hand moves down his own body, and he presses the heel of his palm against his own hard cock. Jon watches with horrified interest. His blood sings the same song in his veins: he wants to heed that call.
“It’s bliss, Jon.”
Jon watches him for a moment. Then he licks his dry lips and says:
“Show me.”
And then Jon wakes.
Elias is sitting next to him in their makeshift camp. He is watching the sea. It’s dark. This domain seems to have an eternal night and, although they haven’t found anyone in it, Jon knows there are people being tortured somewhere in this place.
Then, he frowns.
“I was asleep,” he states.
Elias blinks and looks at him.
“No, not quite.”
Jon sits up and looks at the dark sea. He waits for a moment.
“What happened?”
“The call is particularly loud right now,” Elias says. “I believe it overwhelmed you.”
Jon turns and watches him for a long moment. Then, he nods.
“It hurts a little,” Elias adds. “Can you feel it, Jon?”
Jon shivers and blushes, suddenly unsure if his mind is playing tricks on him or if Elias is to blame. He closes his eyes for a moment. Elias moves his arms, carefully stretching them the best he could without causing himself any harm.
“It does,” Jon finally says and Elias nods.
“Perhaps a statement would help,” he suggests, and Jon throws him a look that makes Elias rolls his eyes. “From the domain, Jon.”
It’s been a while and Jon feels the urge lingering under his skin. He doesn’t want to admit it yet. His hesitancy doesn’t matter because, without any warning, Elias offers himself to him by saying:
“Statement of Jonah Magnus on a near death experience. Recorded by the Archivist, in situ.”
Elias is the one to step closer and kiss Jon in the middle of a street with no public lights. It just happens and, shocking as it was in retrospect, it is simply a kiss.
Elias kisses in a collected way. It’s as surprising as the kiss itself. It lasts a few seconds before Elias steps back and starts walking up the dark street again, leaving Jon behind to sort out his thoughts and emotions. Jon hesitates for only two exact seconds before catching up to Elias and, at that time, Jon didn’t have a plan.