V.
Working for the Magnus institute had brought along several… unforeseen consequences. Well, unforeseen for everyone that wasn’t Jonah Magnus, but chances are, even he had not quite expected the end he’d ultimately met.
The nightmares had been one thing. Martin had been aware, that the archives would not be the most normal working place, but by the time he had sent in his… adjusted CV, he had been desperate enough to not really care. A desperation that had evolved into constant guilt and uncertainty after he’d been accepted, and he hadn’t exactly been able to ask his qualified co-workers for help or whether they had gone into the job, expecting to come face to face with literal monsters and occasionally being followed home by one of them.
By the time things had gone really, irreparably awry, and they had started getting a rough idea of what exactly they had gotten themselves into by working there, the stalking, the constant threat of violence, death or worse, and later the loneliness whilst working for Peter couldn’t exactly be called unexpected consequences but form time to time, Martin had had a moment of absolute clarity and he had not been able to keep himself from asking how, just how exactly he’d ended up in the place he’d been.
Really, the only positive thing about working for the Archives, apart from the pay checks, had been Jon, and even now that the institute is gone and everything is over, and they’ve moved to this tiny Scottish cottage far, far away from London and it’s overcrowded misery, he remains the very best aspect of Martin’s life. But everything isn’t really over, when they still look over their shoulder whenever they leave the house or when they wake up screaming in the middle of the night from their nightmares.
The only upside of Jon’s body shutting down after not having caused the apocalypse had been the fact, that, while he was still spending a good part of his time sleeping, that sleep had usually been dreamless. As he had slowly gotten better, that too had started to change, but right now it’s still more often Martin than him, who is shaken awake and held tight in the small hours of the morning, when his mind has decided to relive the worst parts of the last couple of years.
One thing, Martin had definitely not expected to follow him from his old job though, is the constant apprehension when it comes to any piece of paper. Jon has a similar problem but since he is still mostly bound to the house and only really leaves it to go for short strolls on good days, the only books, sheets of paper and other forms of storage media he comes into contact with are the ones Martin brings home from the shops or library, sometimes letters and flyers from their letterbox.
They have an inconspicuous pair of tongs hanging from a nail next to their front door for picking up letters and, on the table beneath it, next to the bowl with their keys, a pair of thick gardening gloves for the occasional package with the things the tiny supermarket down in the village doesn’t stock.
Tongs and gloves are only discarded once all boxes and letters have been opened and checked for the mark of Jürgen Leitner, familiar handwriting, strange textures, or names. Basira is still the only one who knows their exact address, and, kind of sad as it is, besides her, Daisy, Melanie and Georgie there had been almost no one (human) still alive during the last years who had been close enough to either Jon or Martin to have noticed them burning their bridges behind themselves and leaving neither notice nor forwarding addresses with anyone in London.
A letter from a solicitor's office in London is not something that should be in their mail, and it should most definitely not be addressed to Martin Blackwood.
“You could just burn it”, Jon suggests from his spot on their sofa when Martin drops the small, white envelope onto the coffee table.
“With my luck I accidentally committed fraud or arson or something”
“Accidentally”
“Fine, without remembering it then”
Martin sighs as he picks the letter up again, turning it over in his hands but apart form the office’s address and logo and their own address, it’s completely blank. He carefully wedges the tip of his index fingers into the tiny space where the top flap isn’t fused to the paper beneath but doesn’t tear it open.
“Would you like me to do it?”, Jon asks with a small smile, already reaching out for the letter.
“I think I got a trauma from getting so many rejection letters”, Martin says, in a way that is clearly meant to be joking and in a tone of voice, that is clearly not as he takes off his gloves and passes first them, then the letter to Jon.
“And now every official letter you get is Pandora’s box?”
“Broadly”
“I see we’re already doing a great job with replacing ancient, evil fears with …more pedestrian ones”
“Just tell me if I end up in court”
Martin drops down next to his boyfriend, who stretches out his legs as soon as Martin has settled down and rests his feet against Martin’s thighs.
“Will do, will do”, Jon murmurs as he unfolds the pages and starts reading, brows furrowing behind his glasses.
“I changed my mind”, Martin starts after a couple of seconds, trying to wrench the pages away from his boyfriend when the lines on his forehead deepen but he can’t quite reach them with Jon’s legs between them, “I don’t want to know what it says”
“You really don’t”, Jon agrees when he finishes the page, “although…”
“How badly am I in trouble?”
“Well, you’re not”
Some of the tension leaves Martin’s shoulders but his frown stays in plays.
“Then what was the whole ‘you really don’t’ about?”
“…it’s about Elias”, Jon says softly, watching his boyfriend’s face as the words sink in.
“How”, Martin doesn’t ask as much as groan, closing his eyes and pressing his knuckles against their lids.
“Are you sure, you want to know? Because it’s nothing you necessarily have to do anything about”
“No, tell me please”, Martin sighs, face still mostly obscured by his hands and wrists, glasses pushed up into his hair.
“According to this, he appointed you as his universal heir some time ago and you get everything he owned”
“He- he what?”
This time, Jon meets him halfway when Martin reaches for the papers, but they don’t tell him more than what Jon has just said, apart from a number he has to call should he accept the inheritance and a list of everything Elias left behind. Which is a lot, even considering that Jonah Magnus had clung onto life for more than two hundred years.
“Do you remember the last time everyone went out for drinks after work, and Sasha and Tim started discussing, how much money Elias would need to have for it to be worth to try and get in with him?”
“Yes, and I think I’m the only one whose memory covers the whole night; I learned far too much about all of you on that evening”, Jon’s cheeks flush as he drops the gloves onto the tabletop, “looking back I can’t believe how no one wound up in hospital with-”
“Anyway”, Martin cuts him off, “according to this, both of them could have gone for it and still ended up with about ten times what they’d wanted- have you ever heard that thing, where the official ten wealthiest people in the world don’t come even close to the actual ten richest people, you have never heard of?”
“Well, I guess the tailored suits and ten k wristwatches were a little bit of a giveaway”, Jon points out, nudging Martin’s knee after moment adding, “although it seems I’m the real winner here”
“Yes, and I’m sure the last couple of years were all just part of your big scheme of getting yourself someone to keep you”
“Obviously”
Jon grins so shamelessly brightly up at him, that Martin can’t help himself but laugh. His expression only darkens, when he looks back at the letter in his hand and he rereads the short text.
“I still don’t get why- wait a minute”, Martin cuts himself short, his whole body suddenly still next to Jon’s whose face too drops when he sits up and moves closer to him, “thatfucking- o my god”
“Martin-“
“He didn’t leave me anything”, Martin grits out, balling a fist around the pages, “he wanted to- to do to me what he did to Elias, the original Elias I mean and this was just to ensure he’d keep all his stuff”
“But why should he choose you when- oh”
Jon’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as if that could take either his question or realization back.
“Because”, Martin goes on, voice trembling, as he gets to his feet, “because he had to have an emergency option if anything went wrong - and he knew, I was the only one in the archives he could be sure wouldn’t be missed, never mind had no one who would pay close enough attention to, to notice any chances or care if they did”
Both of his hands are balled to fists, shaking as Martin starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He’s still holding the crumpled letter in one fist and his movements are sharp and jerky as Jon watches him silently.
“And he was right”, Martin goes on in a choked voice, squeezing his eyes shut when he comes to a hold in front of Jon.
His whole body shakes as he desperately tries not to burst into tears; he’s so tired of having other people- of having Jonah Magnus walk all over him and all he can do is fret and have a cry about it, waiting for someone else to fix things while he looks on and makes tea. He wants to scream or punch something when he feels the first tears run down his cheeks- no, he wants to want to scream and punch something. More than that, and the realization makes Martin almost as sick as the thought of Jonah Magnus taking his body, he wants Jon to hold him and tell him he was wrong, that he isn’t-
“Melanie had Georgie, Basira still had Daisy and her colleagues and he needed you for-“, Martin’s voice breaks when he does look at Jon who has pushed himself into a more upright position but still not said a word, merely watching him with a tight expression.
Martin’s face is hot, from both the tears and the shame that is unfurling in his belly and now slowly creeping up to his neck and cheeks, shining pink through his skin on its way. He brings up his hands to cover his face but he’s still holding the damned papers and a loud sob tears its way through his lips when he stills, hands halfway up to his face.
He doesn’t notice his boyfriend getting to his feet and stepping up to him, not until Jon wraps his arms around Martin. His body goes taut for a moment, but Jon only hugs him tighter – as if he’s trying to squeeze all the pain and misery out of Martin’s body.
If Jon were taller, he’d rest his chin against the top of Martin’s head, but standing almost a foot shorter than his boyfriend, Jon settles for getting onto his tiptoes and turning his head, so Martin can bury his face in his hair, tears now freely streaming down his cheeks. Martin only has to slouch a little, sobbing into Jon’s loose grey-black strands as he presses close and Jon rubs his back.
“No- no one would have even noticed – except maybe Peter and-“
Martin’s voice breaks again. This isn’t news. He knows better than anyone else how successful he’d been in isolating himself since the failed Unknowing-ritual, and even how lonely he’d been before that, with his mother and Jon gone-
How lonely he’d been all his life. How alone he’d been as the weird quiet child in the baggy clothes no had one wanted to play with and who always ended up on his own, no matter what he tried. How utterly alone and godforsaken he’d felt when his mother just didn’t care, even though he’d told himself that it was only because of her sickness. Even when he had gotten the job at the archives, he had never really been part of the team, had struggled too much to try and keep up and failed so often and at the end of the day he’d returned to his tiny flat and been so numb and exhausted, it had hurt almost more than the phone-calls his mother either didn’t take or hung up on when she heard his voice. She had even left a note before she had passed away, instructing the nursing home not to let him attend her funeral.
He had liked Sasha and Tim but he had never quite dared to accept the offer when they’d asked him to go out with them, half because he’d been afraid, he’d let anything about his lie slip, half because he’d been scared that it would be just like the jokes, the kids back at school had played on him – which was pathetic but at that point, Martin had just accepted, that no one would ever really like him, would ever really want him there. After all, if even his own mother couldn’t stand the sight of him, how could anyone else? The fact, that, thanks to Elias, he knows that last part to be true doesn’t help.
Working for Jon had not helped either. Love at first sight was well and good but falling for someone who disliked you so openly, everyone around the archives had noticed, while you liked them so much, it was just as obvious doesn’t exactly help with feeling all alone.
It had gotten better when Martin had had to move into the archives and Jon had stopped looking at him like he was an absolute, time-wasting mess. When they had sometimes talked when Jon had either been in too early in the mornings or stayed too long after hours and from time to time had had to spend the night as well and Martin allowed himself the fantasy, that Jon actually cared. Looking back, all the things that had come afterwards seem impossible, most of all the fact that Martin of all people had made it through, because honestly? He had stopped caring at some point.
He’d still been scared sure, all the time; for himself, for the others for the whole world, scared and angry but by the time Jon had returned after the whole Jürgen Leitner thing, Martin had reached a point, where he’d almost accepted, that this was just what life would be now; horror after horror, monsters, the end of the world, secrets and nothing anyone, he least of all, could do about it. At least Jon had been back and he’d talked to Martin, he’d been as close to happy as Martin had ever seen him, when they’d had their little chats and Martin had even sometimes entertained the thought of telling Jon about his feelings, but of course he never had.
And then the unknowing had happened and Tim had died. Daisy had been gone, Basira and Melanie had been so desperate and angry all the time and even putting Elias into a cell had been meaningless, when Jon had lain in a coma for months and Martin had been back to being all alone. Peter could have not gotten a better opportunity.
Peter had been right, when he’d told Martin that he’d be perfect for the lonely; he had not even needed to really change his day to day life. Jon had not been much better off, but at least he had kept working alongside Basira and Melanie, even Daisy after he’d gotten her out of the buried’s grip.
At some point the loneliness had become little more than a dull ache and everything had boon cold but softer. It had only flared up when Jon had come back and tried not only to talk to Martin but had offered to run away together and-
“No one would have cared”, Martin whispers now, face hot and tears burning in his eyes as Jon holds him close.
“I would have known”, Jon says softly, even though they both know it wouldn’t have made a difference, “I would have cared”
Even, if someone had believed Jon or the others, what would there have been left to do? Martin is fairly sure, that having your eyes cut out and replaced by a megalomaniacal, two-hundred-year-old monster, shambling about in a stolen body is not something you got better from.
The thing with dealing with ancient, disembodied fears and monsters is, that at the end of the day, you can’t really do anything against them or try to protect your loved ones- if they make it out of it in the first place. You also can’t very well say anything that stands even a chance of fixing things, and Jon has really never been great with dealing with his own emotions, never mind someone else’s – but Martin needs him right now. Martin is hurting, crying so hard, his whole body shakes and he can barely breathe between his sobs and Jon doesn’t know what to do, except hold him close.
He could lie to Martin, tell him, that he’s wrong, and that he’d never been as alone as he’d felt but they had promised each other not to lie and even if Jon tried it, it would be useless; nearly everything Martin had said was true and that really is the worst part.
“I can’t- I can’t believe he can just-“, Martin’s voice pitches higher towards the end of his sentence, “it’s not fair that he get’s to get to me even-“
“You’re right”
Jon’s hold around him doesn’t falter for even a second, and Martin clings back just as tightly.
“It’s not fair; nothing of this has been fair and no one should have been caught in it”, he adds, lifting one hand to cup Martin’s face and gently tilt it back until he can see his eyes, red and puffy and still brimming with tears, “but you managed to end it. I mean, look at it – in the end you were the one to get Jonah and to take everything from him”, he presses his forehead against Martin’s, who shows no sign of wanting to reply any time soon, “and the best thing is, that you didn’teventry for that; you saved the whole world and me, and you completely wrecked everything Jonah had worked centuries on achieving within one afternoon - just because you’re the most amazing person I ever met”
“You-you know that’s not-“
“Right, I didn’t even tell you the best part”, Jon cuts him off, fingers tight against Martin’s face, “I’m sure in that moment, Jonah knew exactly what was happening and his last thought probably was, that you ruined his life’s work without even actually meaning to – and I bet that was the worst part for him”
“Well, if-if your plan can be derailed by-by me doing something stupid-“
“It doesn’t matter who you are because you can’t ever get the better of Martin Blackwood”, Jon smiles up at Martin, who’s shaking his head slowly until Jon cups his face with both hands and forces his boyfriend to look at him, “don’t even try to make me underestimate you again, I learned my lesson long ago”
Jon bites back a sigh when Martin squeezes his eyes shut instead and moves his head as far from side to side as he can with Jon still cradling his face in his palms. He only lets go of Martin for as long as it takes him to guide his boyfriend back to the sofa and make him lay down. As soon as Jon’s on his side next to him, he pulls Martin back into his arms, kisses his hair when Martin curls into him and simply holds him until the tears die down.
By the time Martin is merely sniffling and can breathe a little more easily, the sun has started setting and the light of the sunrise comes in orange and warm from the windows.
“I’m”, Martin whispers into his boyfriend’s chest, against the wet patch his tears had left in Jon’s- well, Martin’s jumper but it smells of Jon and Jon has pretty much claimed ownership over all of Martin’s shirts at this point anyway, “I’m sorry”
“Shush”, Jon says softly, lifting one hand to brush a handful of curls that have taken to stick to Martin’s forehead back, and presses his lips against his temple.
“It just”, Martin sighs into the tiny space between them, “it just brought up- brought up a lot, okay?”
“I thought so”
Jon’s voice is so gentle, and he has started rubbing Martin’s back again.
“You don’t have to, of course, but you know, you can always talk to-“
“I do”, Martin says softly as he places his hand on Jon’s side, slowly smoothing the tips of his fingers against the soft wool, “but I don’t really want to go through all of it again right now. It’s just”, he stills against his boyfriend for a second, then makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, “just loneliness, you know?”
“I know”, Jon affirms quietly, “but you’re not-“, he barely keeps himself from saying ‘lonely’ and instead finishes with, “not alone anymore, right?”
“No”, Martin finally lifts his head from his boyfriend’s chest and blinks down at him, face still red and cheeks wet in the dying sunlight, but a hesitant smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “not lonely anymore either”
And Jon smiles back, reaching up with one hand to wipe the last remainders of tears away from Martin’s cheeks.
“I love you”, is all Martin gets out before Jon is kissing him, threading his fingers through Martin’s light brown curls and still holding so tightly onto him, Martin isn’t sure he could get away even if he wanted to.
“I love you too”, Jon whispers, pressing his lips against Martin’s forehead and cheeks before he loosens his grip enough for his boyfriend to shift and snuggle back into his chest, “and I’ll never let the lonely get you again, okay?”
“So, what do you say”, Martin eventually says in a soft voice, opening his hand around the rumpled letter, and making himself re-read the words while Jon runs his hands up and down his back, “tomorrow I call that lawyer and we start looking up all the non-profit-organisations Jonah would have considered a personal affront?”
“That’s the spirit”
Jon kisses him one last time before Martin lays his head back against his shoulder and pushes as close to his boyfriend as he can and Jon wraps both arms around Martin’s back. Martin’s eyes are still red and he’s still quietly sniffling, but at least, he’s finally smiling again when he buries his face in the crook of Jon’s neck and Jon hooks his chin over his head, never letting go.