Laughter
The plan was simple.
Go back in time. Take over their past selves’ bodies. Fix things and save the world.
At least, that’s how Jon explained it.
They would need help to get there of course but the plan was solid.
The Web had always preferred the world as it was anyways and it turns out The Distortion didn’t like living in a post-apocalyptic world as much as it thought it would after a while. No doubt there was much deeper reasoning behind Annabelle and Helen choosing to help them. Martin just didn’t much want to think on it at the time.
He looked to Jon; his brows were drawn in concentration as he checked over each one of the different elements to the ritual inside their pack. His silver streaked hair tied up in a bun, dark skin, and darker eyes in stark contrast with his white, dirt stained shirt and black-green cardigan.
“Jon,” Martin called.
“Hm?” Jon said looking up.
Martin swallowed.
“Do you… do you really think we can do this?”
Jon’s gaze softened.
“Martin, I… I-I think…” He trails off.
Then, firmer, he says.
“We have to try. We owe it to the world as much as the others… and ourselves.”
Martin gives him a small smile.
“Yeah... Ok,” and here he lets out a breath, taking Jon’s hand in his own.
“Ok, Jon. Let’s do this.”
They walked up the steps of the house on Hilltop Road in silence.
At the threshold Jon goes to grab the handle but then stops with a sigh. A familiar yellow door seems to have materialised in its place. Jon steps back.
When nothing happens Martin goes to knock, as it seems like the polite thing to do. Before he can though the door swings open.
“Archivist! Martin! It’s so good to see you again,” the Distortion exclaims pleasantly with a grin far too wide to be natural. Looking behind them into the corridors hurts Martin’s eyes so he doesn’t bother.
“Hello, Helen.” Jon says wearily. “I trust you got our message, then?”
“And they weren’t the only one.” A smooth voice called out.
Martin felt a chill and turned to see a blond-haired, dark skinned woman, half her head held together by cobwebs, those of which he could see were covered in spiders crawling along them into and under the flesh of her face. He’d always liked spiders but the sight was still unnerving. Before the world ended he might’ve called it horrific but Martin had seen quite a bit of horror these days and this was hardly that. Still. Martin swallowed thickly as the woman turned her eyes his way and smiled politely back. He felt Jon squeeze his hand tightly and risked a glance the shorter man’s way.
Jon seemed to be struggling against the urge to glare, body tense.
“Annabelle.” He said shortly.
“Jon.” She replied with a smile.
Martin stood awkwardly to the side as the two held eye contact wondering if he should say something to break the tense silence.
As it turns out he didn’t need to.
“Well then,” Helen said with a clap, rubbing her dark hands with impossibly long fingers together. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Jon sighed.
“Ok, lead the way.”
*****
The house was eery on the inside, cobwebs filling many of the corners and shadows falling across the floor strangely. The air felt heavier here than anywhere else they’d been in this nightmare world. Martin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and a weird tingling sensation down his arms. As weird as it might sound, that feeling brought him a sense of relief. This was definitely the right place to do this.
Tuning back into his surroundings, Martin shivered as more and more web was sewn and draped across his and Jon’s shoulders. Martin tried not to wince as he felt Jon’s vice grip on his hand tighten. Annabelle and her spiders laid the last of the silk web onto their clothes while Helen waited impatiently by her door.
“Come on, now, we don’t have all the time in the world here.”
Jon huffed.
Annabelle hummed.
And Martin felt extremely awkward.
He fidgeted.
The webster rolled her eyes.
“All done,” she said patting them both down and stepping away, her spiders scuttling back into her body.
Martin moved to adjust his coat.
“Don’t disturb the web.” Annabelle sniped.
He stilled.
“Ok, so,” Martin began, “we doing this or what? I mean, we’re really doing this.”
“It would seem so.”
“What if it goes wrong?”
Here Helen piped in.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for doubts. I mean, we’ve already talked about this round and round. And we wouldn’t want to waste poor Ms Cain’s time.” She sent a shark grin to the woman in question.
“I agree. You wouldn’t. Though really there’s not much left for me to do in this dreadful bore of a ruined world. Aside from spin the web, of course. Hence why I’m here.” She replied silkily, eyes glinting.
Jon swallowed and looked to him. Martin could tell from his face he’d been having those same doubts. But what he said was, “Martin. Whatever happens… if it means we can save the world, save our friends. It’s worth it.”
Martin sighed, shaking his head.
“You’re right. I know you’re right. I just… we’re sure about this? About them?” He looked to the two avatars.
“Well, now I’m offended.” Helen said jovially. “And we’re right here, you know we can hear you.” Annabelle smiled and hummed in agreement.
Jon rolled his eyes before turning serious again.
“I’m sure, Martin. Are you?”
Martin paused for a moment. Searched Jon’s eyes not quite sure what he was looking for. In them he found resolve, fear, and, for once, hope. It’d been a long time since he’d seen that last one. That’s what sold him on this course of action. Martin had found his own resolve.
“I am.” He said with conviction.
Jon had hope. Jon believed this could work. Martin had to as well. He’d spent so long trying to find some here, trying to bring that light back into Jon’s eyes.
They had to do this. If not for their friends, if not for the world. Then for whatever hope for a life they both could have had if not for Jonah Magnus.
They turned hand in hand to the avatars of Web and Spiral.
Helen’s smile grew even wider.
“That’s my boys.”
Annabelle stepped back into the shadows of the house cobwebs curling around the edges of Helen’s door.
“Good luck,” she said smoothly, a spider dangling from her hair, “Don’t screw it up.”
Jon reached for the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open as they walked inside to be met with a blindingly bright blue light. As he did so, Martin could swear he heard the two avatars behind them begin to laugh.
Then everything went white.
Jon opened his eyes only to immediately shut them again. For some reason this didn’t stop the images he was seeing. Too many things happening at once flooded his mind and he felt briefly overwhelmed by it all. He brought his hands up to his face to press them against his eyes, images beginning to fade as he focused, as he let out a quiet groan. He stilled. That… didn’t sound right. But well, if things had worked as they were supposed to, he’d be in his past self’s body right now. It’d make sense if things weren’t the same. People change over time, he reasoned to himself, relaxing. Usually in ways imperceptible to oneself until the changes are far too obvious to be ignored. On the topic of change, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t feel any scars on his hands or face at all. That’s normal, he thought. It means it worked.
From the feel of what he was lying down on he seemed to be in a, somewhat lavish by the feel of it, king sized bed. Sitting up he was able to examine his surroundings more thoroughly.
Upon doing so he froze.
This was not his room. This was not his apartment. This was not his house.
Looking at the grand bedroom and its Victorian styled clearly extremely expensive furniture, and built in shelves filled to the brim with books along the walls and writing desk alcove, Jon began to get a sinking feeling in his gut. He went to swing his legs out from under the covers, hand reaching in front to grab the soft doona. He tensed even more. Heart rabbiting in his throat, he stared at his hand.
Instead of the warm dark brown with finger bitten nails he’d had throughout his whole life, a tanned white hand with manicured nails stared back at him.
Wh…What?!
Jon felt like his heart was beating so fast it might kill him. He stood quickly suddenly desperate for a mirror, a growing horrible suspicion in his gut. As soon as he stood, however, he nearly fell right back down again. He had to account for this sudden feeling of weight, that of a much larger torso with much longer legs. Then, subsequently, a harsh sense of vertigo. The ground seemed to be much farther from him then he was used to. His silk sleeping robes shifted as he tried to stabilise himself and find a new centre of gravity. All the while his mind screaming at him, no, no, no, this isn’t right, no, no, nononono-.
Finding strength to move while feeling so off balance and increasingly sicker was hard but a sense of urgency was eating at him. He finally was able to stumble towards the large full body intrinsically framed mirror sitting next to one of the wooden wardrobes.
Jon looked into Elias’ cold blue eyes and screamed.
“What. The fuck.” He said in a gravelly voice that was not his own.
Martin stared.
The Tundra rocked with the motion of the sea, crew milling about completing daily tasks. He tasted salt on the breeze, heard waves crashing against each other and the bottom of the boat as he tried to make sense of the sight before him. He blinked, heart beating fast.
It did not compute.
“Captain Lukas!” A deck hand was running towards him.
Oh fuck no.
Jon will admit to not reacting very well to the fact that he was now inhabiting Eli- Jonah’s body.
“Oh god, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck- “
His breath picking up Jon could feel himself hyperventilating. That feeling of sickness, of wrongness was returning twice fold.
Eyes wide, (not his, not his, not his-), Jon stumbled away from the mirror to the nearest wastebasket and was sick.
Heaving, Jon’s eyes- Jonah’s eyes, he thought to himself wildly, stung with unshed tears.
Squeezing them shut tight as he finished, Jon felt a few drops escape as he sat back and wiped his face on (not) his sleeve.
He sat there, heart still racing, feeling like he was going to cry.
When a sudden thought had him panicking for an altogether different reason.
“Martin!” He said aloud. Hearing the voice that came out was quite jarring but not enough to distract him from his panic.
Did he make it? Is he ok? If things went so wrong on Jon’s end, there’s no guarantee that they didn’t on his. As worry began to fill his chest Jon instinctively reached to the Eye for knowledge about Martin… and that’s where things got a bit strange.
Suddenly, he was far away from the room he’d been panicking in a second ago as images filled his brain and he saw-.
Martin?
Jon blanked for a moment and just watched. It was Martin. Puttering around what looked to be a small flat. Making a cup of tea of all things. Jon chuckled softly, heart slowing already just seeing such a familiar sight. Martin looked a bit younger and more carefree here. At least compared to the Martin he knew. Jon watched for a little bit more before he started to feel a bit weird about it. Just as he was about to stop, once again something strange happened. A flicker. Like, two images overlapping each other. Then his vision was violently pulled to the other image.
Jon winced, wondering what the Eye wanted to show him so badly.
It was a boat. No, not just any boat it was… the Tundra?
Why the hell-?
Jon struggled not to shout as what he saw suddenly rushed towards him as he seemed to zoom closer and there he saw Peter Lukas, staring it seemed, out towards the sea. The rush of noise then was a shock but what he heard next was even stranger.
“Captain Lukas!” A deck hand ran towards the hulk of a man.
“Did you not hear me calling, Sir?” The deck hand was a young man with a dark complexion. His deep brown eyes looked to the captain with concern.
The Lukas stilled. “Are… are you talking to me?” The rough voice replied. A look of surprise crossed the lonely avatars face, as if shocked at the sound.
“…Yes? Some of the crew are asking for you. They said something about supplies and needing to pick a new route if we’re to make port soon. Sir.” The young man shifted nervously. He must be new, Jon thought to himself. Though most of his attention was on the bulky build of the sea captain, a horrible suspicion beginning to grow.
“…R-right…” Peter Lukas turned away from the deck hand, but Jon could still see his expression clearly. It was one of panic and horrified realisation. The man had clearly heard something he desperately wished to not be true. Jon recognised the look from his own- from Jonah’s face earlier. He knew then, why the Eye was showing him this, showing him the Lukas. Martin hadn’t gotten through this unscathed. At least, not his Martin.
“Tell them I’ll be there soon. I just... need a moment.” He looked like he was about to be sick. Though Jon was sure it wasn’t seasickness affecting the large man.
The young man nodded and hurried off.
The captain, Peter, Martin, leaned against the edge of the boat, hands gripping tight to the wood body of it. He looked like he was about to cry.
“God, Jon, I hope you’re out there.” A wet chuckle. “This is…insane. What are we gonna do now?”
Jon felt his own throat tighten. As much as he hated the sight of Peter Lukas, knowing it was Martin, Martin who was stuck in there... Jon felt like he might cry as well. Suddenly, he wanted to be anywhere but here. Wanted to just wake up and see that this had all been a bad dream. He’d wake up in Martin’s arms and they’d both be ok.
Instead, the images he was seeing faded and he was suddenly back to sitting on the floor of Jonah’s bedroom.
Jon blinked the afterimages away.
He sat there in silence for a moment, shaken.
What are they going to do? Why had this happened? Is there a way to fix it? Were they stuck like this from now on?
More importantly, how on earth was he supposed to walk into the Magnus Institute and assume the life of the very man he’d come back all this way to stop? And without Martin, his Martin, by his side?
Christ.
A thought occurred to him then. If Martin’s past self is here and present, presumably already working at the Magnus Institute…
‘Does that mean my past self is here too?’ Jon thought to himself, a tad hysterically.
Oh hell.
This takes self-employment to a whole new level.
He rubbed a hand across his face.
Great. Just great.
A shrill ringing shattered the silence. Jon started and looked for the source. There. The bedside landline.
He let it ring for a moment, debating whether to answer. Curiosity won out and he pulled himself up, nearly overbalancing before righting himself. His new height was going to take some getting used to. Moving as quickly as he dared, Jon reached for the phone.
“Hello?” He couldn’t help but tense hearing his own words in Elias’ voice.
“Oh, thank god,” Rosie breathed out, relieved. “Sir, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Has something happened? Oh, nevermind that. Pardon me for this, Mr Bouchard but I really think you should come in. There’s been an… incident.”
Jon felt panic at the thought of going into the institute just then but even more so at the idea of something having happened to Sasha, Tim, and their past selves so soon.
Christ, he wasn’t even dressed.
“Right, I… I-I’m sorry, Rosie. I’ll be in shortly. Is everything alright?” Jon asked hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt.
“No, no, sir, it’s not… that kind of emergency but...”
Jon listened and could almost swear he heard a faint crash from somewhere in the background. Rosie sighed.
“Perhaps it’s better you come see for yourself, sir.”
Jon was still apprehensive but could tell from her tone that whatever was happening wasn’t life threateningly bad. At least he hoped not.
“Right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He said, trying to put as much self-assurance he could into his voice. The last thing he wanted was for Rosie to suspect there was something different about her boss.
“Thank you, Rosie, I’ll see you soon.” Jon hung up.
Part of him wanted to see if he could use whatever weird beholding powers he had now to just behold what was happening at the institute but another part didn’t want anything to do with Jonah’s powers. Sickened at the thought of baring any more likeness to the man than he already did being trapped in his body. Jon reasoned he didn’t have full control over the ability anyways and sure he may have to learn to use it properly eventually but for now it was better to focus on what’s in front of him.
Feeling a bit dazed, and more than a little surreal (especially in this ridiculously fancy room), Jon forced himself to go and get ready for work.
…
“Why the hell is this bathroom so big?”