Chapter Text
“Good morning,” Gerry said as Jon entered the kitchen. He blinked. Both Martin and Gerry were up- that was unusual. Jon was typically the early riser on the weekends.
“Morning,” Jon said suspiciously. “What are you two plotting?” Martin gave his best wide eyed innocent look.
“Plotting? Us?” His partner said, amused. “We would never.” Jon sighed, and accepted the mug of tea that Martin pressed into his hands. There was a moment of silence in which suspicious looks were traded across the table, interrupted by the cats meowing loudly for breakfast. Gerry stood up to feed them, and the moment was broken.
“We are plotting,” Gerry confessed as he set down two plates of cat food. “Martin just found out that library staff get a discount on Museum admission. So we’re going to the National Gallery today. Surprise?” He sounded unsure at the end, but Jon was already smiling. He hadn’t been to an art museum in ages. He met Martin’s gaze, and found that his partner was already returning his grin.
“Sounds perfect,” Jon said. “Let me get dressed.”
-
The Museum was a bit crowded, which was to be expected on a Saturday. Jon didn’t mind, though. It had been a while since they’d spent the day together, he and his partners. His family, really. They took their time looking at the paintings, since Jon had to take frequent breaks. He was a lot better at managing his crutches, but fatigue still came easily. They sat in front of a large mural depicting an endless sky above a green meadow.
“I always liked the landscapes best,” Jon mused. “Well, portraits sometimes. Definitely not anything abstract.” Martin had an arm wrapped around his shoulders as they sat.
“I like abstract,” Gerry said. “And surrealism.” He didn’t look away from the painted sky, though.
“Hm,” Martin said. “You know, it’s nice to look at a sky like this and not feel like it’s going to eat you. Or that you’re going to fall in.” Both Jon and Gerry looked at him. Martin had become more cavalier about discussing his past experiences, especially the end of the world and what came before. He would occasionally drop something very concerning into normal conversation.
“Run into many cursed paintings?” Gerry asked. Martin shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t supporting Jon.
“Not directly,” he replied. “Got a few statements about them. Usually the vast, maybe a couple from the spiral. There was one from the eye, though, it was a series of portraits that made people only see their flaws turned up to a ridiculous degree.”
“That tracks,” Gerry said. “Also paintings of eyes can be used to spy on people. In theory. I would never do that.” Jon was beginning to feel like they’d gotten off track (ha).
“That one was a good one,” Martin mused, sounding almost wistful. “One of the least offensive avatars we ever ran into. Their apocalypse domain was probably a haunted art studio.”
“You didn’t ask other-Jon about it?” Jon asked, not realizing until too late that he’d said the nickname. The one Irene specifically told him was probably not a good idea to use around his partners. Sure enough, they both winced.
“Sorry,” Gerry said first. “That still reminds me of the not-them. Stranger vibes.” That was understandable. Jon had realized the connection after he’d accidentally referred to himself as ‘not-Jon’ and given himself a panic attack.
“I just don’t think you’re as separate as you think,” Martin said, looking at the painting in front of them. Jon followed his gaze. It was a green landscape, rolling hills disappearing into a gray sky. It was something you might have fallen into, once. The sky seemed endless. Jon looked at the plaque. The space where the title should’ve been was blank. The artist was anonymous. There was only a dedication, printed onto the plastic. It had been covered by a museum notice, stating that the painting would soon be taken down. Jon wondered who the artist had been, and if they had once fallen in love with the boundless sky.
-
They got lunch at the Museum. It was terrible, as expected, but a familiar kind of terrible. Jon took a bite of the slightly soggy pizza and sighed.
“We can go to a cafe after this,” Martin suggested. “There’s a boba place around here that’s supposed to be good.”
“I might need a palate cleanser,” Gerry muttered, not touching his own slice. Jon agreed. It was quite possibly the worst pizza he’d ever had. That he remembered, of course. There had probably been worse pizza after the world ended.
“We should get boba,” Jon agreed. The decision was unanimous.
They stopped in the gift shop on the way out. It was quite large, and Jon felt a bit overwhelmed at all of the merchandise being offered. Martin squeezed his hand, then leaned in.
“You okay?” He whispered close to Jon’s ear. He nodded. It wasn’t crowded, and Jon could already feel his attention wandering to potential gifts for his partners. Gerry was a few feet away, investigating a display of art-themed earrings.
“We should split up and look around,” Jon said, perhaps badly hiding his intentions of gift-purchasing. Martin’s fond smile told him that he wasn’t fooled, but he still released his hand.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s meet out by the entrance when we’re done, yeah?” Jon nodded in agreement. He turned toward a nearby shelf of puzzles, awkwardly navigating his crutches through the narrow path between displays. Gerry liked puzzles, he knew. The two of them had spent some time working on one while they were both home, but Gerry seemed to enjoy them more. He had a puzzle app on his phone, which Jon thought was a bit excessive, but he didn’t have the attention span for lengthy puzzling sessions. He leaned on one crutch and picked up the first one that caught his eye.
It was a 1000 piece puzzle of the landscape painting that they had been admiring. Jon picked it up, and considered. He knew Gerry liked abstract art more than landscapes, but… there was something about it. And Jon already felt that it would serve as a memory of that day. He tucked the puzzle under his arm and went to look for a stuffed animal for Martin.
He left the gift shop with the puzzle, a magnet for the refrigerator, and a particularly round frog. (He had nearly skipped over it in favor of a fluffy cow, but it was so round. He couldn’t resist.)
“All set?” Gerry asked from where he was leaning against the wall outside of the shop. He also had a bag. Martin stood next to him, a nearly identical bag in his hands. Jon wondered what they had gotten- maybe he could find out later?
“It’s a surprise,” Martin said in response to his unasked question. Jon huffed out a sigh. Martin was too good at reading his expressions.
“Time for boba,” Gerry said, leading them out of the museum. “I think there’s one across the street.”
-
They took their drinks to go. They made their way back to the flat, talking about everything and nothing. As they opened the door, they were greeted by their two cats, crying loudly for dinner.
“Clearly we’re late,” Jon joked as he put his bag down on the table and collapsed into one of the chairs. He was immediately accosted by the Commodore and Captain Polly. They were starving. (It was two minutes past their usual dinner time.)
“I got it,” Martin said, filling the cat's dishes. They fell upon the meal like starving beasts. Martin sat at the table, and opened his gift bag. “Okay. Sharing time?” He suggested. Gerry nodded.
“I’ll go first,” he said, when Martin hesitated for a moment. He sounded very eager, Jon noticed. Not that he wasn’t also eager to hand out his purchases. Gerry reached into his bag, and removed a thick book. He passed it over to Jon. “This is for you. I know you like this stuff.. I hope you haven’t read it already.” Jon looked at the title. He had not read it already. It was a book about the history of the National Gallery, and about how some of the more famous pieces had found their home there.
“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “I don’t know much about this, I can’t wait to read it.” Gerry beamed at him, and that was a greater gift than the book. The rest of the gifts were passed out. Martin had gotten Gerry a book of knitting patterns, and Gerry had given him a stylized mug. Martin thanked Jon for the stuffed frog (“Jon, he’s so round!), and gave him a book about middle eastern art. Jon felt like he hadn’t smiled so much in quite some time, but it felt- it felt natural. Their dynamic was no longer strained. Jon wondered if other-Jon had felt this way. If he had wished happiness on whatever version of himself would survive. He liked to think that he had.
-
It was the most fun Jon had had in a long time, he realized that night as he lay between the two people he loved the most and their two cats. He had forgotten that life could feel like this. The knowledge came slowly, not instantly, and he struggled to recall when thinking this deeply had been such a struggle. Was it like this before the Eye? Had he forgotten that too? Or was it the brain damage? There was no answer that came to him as he closed his eyes, shutting out the world. It was quiet except for Martin and Gerry’s soft exhales and the purring of a cat. For once, he was content to not know. He fell asleep warm, and he did not dream.
-
“I’ve been thinking of retiring,” Gertrude said one day. Jon stared at her from across her table, a mug of tea halfway lifted to his mouth. That statement was rather out of nowhere. Why was she telling him this?
“Can I ask… why now?” Jon ventured slowly. Gertrude still intimidated him. They had been taking tea together as of late, starting after he had reintegrated himself into the daily life and workings of the institute. It was a bit odd, but rather nice. Jon had always wondered what Gertrude was like, really. Now he knew. And they got along well. She sighed.
“Truthfully, it’s been on my mind ever since your ritual,” she began. “I had never had the chance to consider it before, and once I did, it was hard to let go of the idea.” She paused and took a sip of her own tea. “I think it’s as good a time as any. I’m not exactly young anymore.”
“Well, ah, good for you?” Jon said, then winced. It had sounded more like a question than he’d intended. Gertrude didn’t seem offended.
“It took me a while to make up my mind,” she said. “I thought about all the memories tied to that place, and whether staying was worth it. It’s different now, of course, but…”
“Sometimes it still feels like you’re being watched?” Jon guessed. Gertrude nodded.
“I worry sometimes that if I don’t escape it now, I’ll never be able to. I suppose I just don’t trust how this feels. I was the Archivist for fifty years, it’s not something one forgets.”
“Well,” Jon muttered, “you never know.” Gertrude didn’t have the decency to be apologetic.
“I’ve already written my notice,” She said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Rosie will have to hire a replacement. I suppose you don’t want it.” Jon snorted.
“What gave you that idea?” Jon huffed. Gertrude simply raised an eyebrow.
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t let you take it. Your partners wouldn’t either.”
“Fair enough,” Jon sighed. “I’ll be honest- I’ve been applying to other jobs. I heard back from one of my academic advisors recently about a paper I submitted, and it’s- it’s more like what I want to do. Does that make sense? I don’t know if it does.”
“It does,” Gertrude replied. “If you want my opinion, you should leave. Your Gerry and Martin should leave too.”
“You seem very convinced,” Jon muttered, trying not to feel the mess of complicated emotions that often emerged during long conversations with Gertrude. He was the only one of his partners that would speak to her. Gerry had his reasons, mostly stemming from the skin book situation (that hadn’t come to pass, yes, but it was still an uncomfortable thing to know that your dad’s boss would mutilate your body and trap your spirit agony. Jon didn’t blame him one bit.), and Martin could hold a grudge like no other. But Jon- he, as far as he could remember, had never even met the former Archivist. And when she wanted to speak to him after everything, well, he’d been curious. So he agreed.
“I am,” Gertrude said, cutting off his train of thought. She paused for a moment. “You have a degree in history, correct?”
“Yes,” Jon replied slowly. That was an abrupt change of subject, he thought. What-
“Hm,” Gertrude interjected, again. “I have some contacts with a few research institutions. Legitimate ones. I’ll send you their information. In case you’re interested.” Oh. That- that’s not what Jon was expecting.
“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. A different job… a normal one, at that. It was a very interesting thing to consider.
Later that night, Jon received an email from Gertrude. He stared at his laptop for a long moment, in the dark kitchen. His partners were in bed already, and he was about to join them. His eyes skimmed through the list. There were- quite a lot of options, actually. Jon thought about the collection of essays that he’d been working on in the future and the past, now all lost to time. He got up to make himself a cup of tea, and began to write.
-
Jon shifted as someone placed a blanket around his shoulders, but didn’t wake.
-
“Good Morning,” Martin said, sounding amused. Jon blinked awake, squinting in the morning light of the kitchen. His cheek stuck to the notepad on the table, and he winced as he sat up. Martin placed a cup of tea down next to him, then sat. “What had you up all night?” He asked. Jon belatedly realized there was a blanket around his shoulders, and pulled it tighter.
“Oh-“ he said, feeling like his brain was still buffering. “I didn’t mean to sleep out here.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Martin said, and Jon thought he sounded more fond than the situation called for.
“Right- well, I- I was writing,” Jon explained. “I have those essays I’ve been working on since I got out of hospital, and I wanted to put them together, I suppose.” He took a sip of his tea. It was perfect.
“And you got absorbed in your work? Shocking,” Martin teased.
“It’s- I spoke to Gertrude yesterday,” Jon began, gathering his thoughts.
“I know, yeah,” Martin sighed. “How did it go?”
“She’s retiring,” Jon explained. Martin raised an eyebrow.
“ Really,” he asked. “I didn’t think she’d ever want to leave.”
“She thinks we should do the same,” Jon added. “She sent me the information of some of her other contacts from normal research institutions. I was- I was looking through them.” Martin was quiet for a moment.
“You don’t have to stay at the Institute,” he pointed out. “I would- I think everyone would completely understand if you left,” he continued. Jon shrugged.
“It’s just a thought,” he muttered. “I was thinking of sending a couple applications out. Just to have options, you know?” Martin reached for his hand, and squeezed it gently.
“I get it,” he said. “Really.” Jon smiled at him, and got a grin in return. It felt like a weight had been lifted. He hadn’t realized he was so worried about his boyfriend’s reaction.
“Thank you, Martin.” He said.
-
That night, Jon lay sandwiched between Martin and Gerry, with both cats vying for his spot.
“I was here first,” he huffed, removing the Commodore’s tail from his face for a third time. Martin laughed, his fingers pausing in the petting of Jon’s hair to pet the cat. “Oh, I see how it is,” Jon grumbled, reaching for one of Gerry’s hands. Gerry laughed and moved his knitting project out of Jon’s reach.
“I didn’t know we had three cats,” he remarked idly, ignoring Jon’s glare. Jon sighed as Captain Polly nudged her way underneath his arm and curled up. It was hard to pretend to be annoyed when he was warm, surrounded by the people he loved and holding a purring cat.
-
Jon slowly worked up the courage to go to trivia night. Martin and Gerry hadn’t been going, not since he’d come home from the hospital. He suspected they hadn’t gone before, either. The three of them braved the pub together.
It was exactly as overwhelming as Jon was expecting. He found himself between Sonja and Gerry, nursing a beer. There were many familiar faces- Tim and Sasha, Rosie, Diana. A few people Jon didn’t recognize were present, but were quickly introduced as plus ones. Trivia was fine, though Jon felt like Other-Jon was probably better at it than him. Because of the power of dread knowledge. Well- did the Eye help with trivia? Jon leaned over to Martin, swaying slightly.
“The Eye did help with trivia, yeah,” Martin confirmed in a whisper-shout. “But you’re also very good at it in general. You know so many random facts.” Jon felt himself blush.
“You’re so nice,” He told Martin, who also went slightly red.
“Guys, pay attention,” someone, possibly Tim, said from across the table. Jon looked back at the front of the room- it was the history category. He leaned forward. He was going to crush this.
-
(He did, but utterly failed the sports section, much to the dismay of his teammates. Apparently, Other-Jon completely relied on the Eye for that one. Jon shuddered a bit. Had all these people thought he knew things about sports this whole time? The horror.)
-
Jon woke the next morning and immediately regretted trivia night. His head pounded when he tried to open his eyes, so he kept them tightly shut and burrowed his face into the shoulder of whoever was next to him. Eventually they’d have to get up and face the day. (Did they, though? A part of Jon’s brain pointed out, weighing the merits of staying in bed forever.) He sighed, his partner’s hair tickling his face. Just a few more minutes.
-
He woke up again later on, and this time he was alone in bed. Soft voices were coming from the kitchen, so he braved the light of the flat and made his way toward the other room. Gerry was at the stove, making eggs with Martin providing instructions from his seat at the table. Both cats were sitting on one of the chairs. The Commodore was curled up, unbothered, but Captain Polly was staring Gerry down, begging for eggs.
“Morning,” Jon managed, settling into his spot at the table. He pretended that he didn’t see Gerry ‘accidentally’ drop some egg on the ground, which Captain Polly immediately leapt upon. Gerry put some in front of the Commodore too, just to be fair. Jon noticed a stack of mail on the table. Had one of them brought it in the night before? He reached out and started to sort through the small pile. He paused, recognizing the name of an institution he’d reached out to before. He opened the envelope.
Jon felt like he couldn’t breathe. He held the letter in his hands, not trusting himself to put it down, lest it disappear into nothing. He stared at the words, replaying them over and over in his head. Martin was saying something. Calling his name, maybe?
“…Jon? What does it say?” Martin asked, concern clear in his voice. Jon’s hands shook. Gerry had abandoned the eggs, and had come over to stand behind Jon.
“I’ve been- I’ve been offered a job,” Jon finally managed after several long moments. “At the London Institute of Historical Research.” There was silence from his partner. Then-
“What? That’s incredible,” Martin burst out. Jon looked at him. His boyfriend was smiling so brightly he was tempted to look away. “They liked your essays?”
“Yes, it seems so,” Jon replied weakly. “Apparently I’m a good candidate for a research position. They must have liked my application as well...”
“Congratulations,” Gerry murmured, wrapping an arm around Jon’s shoulders. Jon leaned into the contact.
“Are you going to accept it?” Martin asked, still smiling. It seemed a bit tenser than it had moments before. Jon hesitated. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But he’d poured so much of himself into the Magnus Institute, and had parts of him stolen even further. Who would he be without it?
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”
“It’s a really good opportunity, Jon,” Martin said. “You don’t have to stay at the institute. You can do whatever feels right.”
“I know that,” Jon sighed. “I just- I need some time to think.” Martin smiled again, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Gerry hugged him tighter.
“Just know that whatever you choose,” he said, “we’ll support you.” Jon appreciated it more than words could express.
-
“I’ve been offered a job,” Jon said (yet again), not looking at Irene. She made a noise of polite interest, but waited for him to continue. “As a research assistant. At the London Institute of Historical Research. After I sent in an application and a couple essays. I guess they liked them.” Irene nodded.
“And you want to take it?” She asked gently. Jon shrugged, avoiding her eyes.
“I do, maybe,” he hedged. Irene remained silent. “It’s just- I don’t know, alright?”
“You don’t know if you want it,” Irene said after several moments in which Jon struggled to find the words. “Or you do know what you want, but you aren’t sure why you’re feeling that way.”
“I don’t know if I can know what I want,” Jon said eventually. “There’s so much of me that’s still missing, how can I be sure about anything?”
“You don’t owe anything to your past self, you know,” Irene replied softly.
“Don’t I?” Irene was silent. Jon hated when she made him elaborate on his thoughts. He thought about remaining silent, but he knew well enough that Irene would sit there as long as was necessary. “He saved the world. And me. From what I gathered, I was a dead man walking. But now? How am I supposed to live when I knew I was supposed to die? All of my- my plans, they stopped. I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. This still feels like… borrowed time, I think. It hardly feels real.”
“Have you told your partners this?” She asked gently. Jon shook his head, then paused.
“Not in so many words,” he began. “I think they get it. Martin especially. He’s- he’s been through so much.”
“So have you,” Irene reminded him.
“Well- yes, I suppose. But I think- I think I do want this. Something different.” Was it cowardice, to leave the familiar for something safe? Was he letting fear drive him away from where he was meant to be? Was-
“Is that a productive thought process?” Irene asked, and Jon considered walking out. Therapy was stupid, he thought childishly. He sighed.
-
Jon had made his decision. He sent the required emails, and spoke on the phone with the director of the department he would soon be working for. Then, he scheduled a meeting with Rosie. He was nervous, having the discussion, but he needn’t have worried.
“I understand,” Rosie said, nodding. “To be completely honest, I was a bit surprised you chose to come back after your hospital stay.”
“Well, I- I didn’t really think about leaving,” Jon confessed. “It made the most sense to come back. But now…” he trailed off. Rosie smiled at him.
“Even without Elias, it’s still a place that had a huge impact on you. I sometimes wonder if I should stay, but, well, someone needs to keep things running,” She said. “And I like this position. But don’t worry, Jon. You’re always welcome back if you change your mind.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” he said. He didn’t think he would ever take her up on that, but it was good to stay connected. Plus, all of his friends and his partners were still there. It’s not like he’d be disappearing.
-
His last two weeks passed quickly. It still didn’t feel quite real- not when he put away the last statement, or when he cleaned off his desk. It wasn’t until he stood at the door of the library in his last day, waiting for his partners so they could head home, that it finally hit him. He was free. Of the institute, the Eye, everything. He was able to simply hand in his notice and leave. Jon was so absorbed in thought that he didn’t notice Martin approaching him.
“Hey,” his partner said. Jon blinked, then smiled when he saw Martin.
“Martin,” he greeted. “Ready to head home?”
“Yeah,” Martin replied. “Gerry‘a staying a little later to work on a project, he’ll join us in a bit.” They began to walk to the exit. Sabina waved at them as they passed the reception desk. “Do you mind if we stop at the store? The cats need food.”
“Of course,” Jon said, not sure why Martin even needed to ask. He was always happy to spend time with him.
-
Martin held the bags as Jon fumbled with the key to the flat. It was dark as he pushed open the door- was Gerry not home yet?
“Surprise!” The lights turned on, and Jon blinked at the noise and sudden illumination.
“What- Good Lord, I-“ their flat was full of people. If not for Martin’s steadying grip on his shoulder, he might have stumbled back. Or fled. Gerry was there, beaming at him. And so were Tim, Sasha, David, Hannah, Tom, Rosie- “ Christ,” he muttered. There was Gertrude, Leitner, Julia… “Daisy? What are you doing here?” Jon asked numbly. She was standing apart from the rest, but smiled as Jon approached her. He flung his arms around her. “What is this?”
“Your farewell party, from your friends at the institute,” Rosie said. “Well, sort of.”
“We’re just stopping by,” Hannah added. “You know, it’s trivia night. Which you are always welcome to join, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Jon said, dazed. Daisy had a steadying arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t worry, they’re not staying,” she whispered into his ear. “I’ll remove them myself if I have to.” Jon laughed.
-
True to their word, the crowd vacated after an hour, after a long stream of small talk and a frankly astonishing number of ‘good luck’ and ‘congratulations’ cards. Jon was left with his partners and Daisy, and he was sandwiched between them on the couch, which was not made to fit four adults and two cats.
“They’re great, but that was so much,” Martin sighed. “Christ.” Jon hummed in agreement.
“I haven’t spent time with anyone aside from my sheep and Leanne from the general store,” Daisy muttered. “I was about to lose it.”
“We figured,” Gerry said, sounding amused. “Which is why they were only sort of invited. Daisy, you’re the real gift-slash-party.” Jon looked at her.
“I’m here for a few days,” she said. “Leanne‘s wife is looking after the sheep.” That was excellent news. He rested his head on Daisy’s shoulder. He was exhausted. From the process of the new job, from speaking to the people he was leaving behind, and from, well, existing. He felt his eyes begin to close.
“Get some rest,” someone said softly. “We’ll be here.” That, Jon realized as he drifted off, was something he knew would always be true.