III. Bonus Chapter
The last time, the yellow door appears is on a downcast Saturday afternoon. Up above in the sky the clouds have not opened up once that day, and it’s too cool and wet to stay outside for more than a couple of minutes. Still, Jon and Martin stand in front of their house and the door that should not be there.
Martin’s heart is hammering away in his chest and Jon is holding himself so rigidly, Martin wonders how he’s able to move and breathe at all, but he does, move out of the way of the opening door and he does breathe just a little too fast and too shallowly.
After Basira and Daisy had left, they had sat down one evening and made an emergency plan. Well, they had made sixteen emergency-plans, one for every fear that could go after them, and one for non-entity related emergencies, all of them featuring several steps and options depending on the actual situation; Martin was nothing if not thorough. It had been a very, very long evening.
Still, Jon doesn’t feel nearly as unprepared as the last time Helen had come by and he can busy himself by going over every step of the plans, while they wait for her to come out. The fact that, quite possibly, neither of them will ever have to face anything like this alone again helps perhaps more than it should.
Jon is still holding onto his husband’s hand too tightly, but Martin is clutching right back, and they don’t let go when Helen steps outside, a pale green ribbon tied around her neck.
The colour has just finished draining from Jon’s face, when Martin asks, what exactly is coming for them in a tight voice.
“The end”, Helen beams at them.
“Wait, Oliver is coming here?“,
Martin turns so sharply to face him, Jon jumps, his husband’s hand still in his own while Helen nods.
“Who’s Oliver?”
“The avatar of the end”, Jon says a little more slowly, because surely, that had to be obvious at this point.
“The extremely handsome avatar of the end”, Helen corrects him, smile growing ever wider.
“Do you know what he wants?”
Jon can feel Martin’s gaze on him, and he isn’t quite sure why.
“No idea”, Helen says brightly, eyes fixed on Jon and darting to his husband from time to time.
“Well, thank you Helen, we really appreciate it”, Jon finally says, fighting the urge to look from her to Martin as well.
“Of course”, Helen is grinning just a tad too widely when she waves and turns, “until next time”
“So, we go pack our stuff and leave then?”, Martin asks, voice slightly off and Jon can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something.
“I actually don’t think we have to”
“Oh?”
Martin raises an eyebrow and okay, Jon has definitely missed something.
“I mean, we can still go, but Oliver-“
“Extremelyhandsome Oliver who is the avatar of death and whom you know for some reason”
“I wouldn’t know about the handsome part”
“How so?”
“Well, I never really saw him”, Jon shrugs, as he pulls Martin back towards their real front door and through before they get completely drenched, “only read his statement and when he woke me up, he didn’t stay long enough for me to talk to him. I think Georgie kicked him out of the hospital”
The corner of Jon’s mouth drops when he mentions Georgie, as always. They haven’t talked since he’d come to her flat and tried to talk to Melanie – tried to get Melanie, who had just blinded herself to get out of the ceaseless watcher’s service, to help him. The only sign of life he’d gotten from her and Melanie, had been two texts on Christmas and his birthday, complete with pictures of the admiral in appropriate headgear and even that is more than he deserved, he knows that, but it still hurts.
He shakes his head now in an attempt to get rid of that thought and instead looks up at his husband, who’s pursing his lips.
“What?”
“Nothing”
“Martin”, Jon almost laughs at his pinched expression, but instead tugs at his hand, as if that would make him answer faster, “I know I’m not that great at reading emotions but I know something’s up with you – something that’s not nothing”
“It’s not important”
“No”, Jon says very slowly, going so far as to get onto his tiptoes and gently turning Martin’s head to face him with his free hand, when he looks away, “of course it’s important if it’s bothering you that much and I can’t do anything about it if you don’t talk to me”
Martin sighs, when he does meet his husband’s gaze.
“What is it, my love?”, Jon asks, voice gentler than ever and face open – and Martin feels kind of bad.
“It’s just”, he starts, but trails off, casting his eyes downwards again, “you never told me about that“
“About the day I woke up?”, Jon asks softly, “I’m sorry. I wanted to when I got back to the archives, but everything had already gone to hell and you were gone, and afterwards, I just forgot; there was so much else going on”
But Martin shakes his head, cheeks flushing in a faint shade of pink.
“That’s not what I meant”
“And what did you mean?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”, Martin sighs, but shakes his head the next moment, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“Martin, honestly, it’s alright, but I’m afraid I don’t-“
“You didn’t tell me that all it took to wake you up after six months of being basically dead, was some guy coming by for ten minutes while me sitting with you every day for hours and talking to you and even piling your stupid recorders all around you wasn’t good enough”
It all comes out in a bit of a rush and Martin immediately snaps his mouth shut but that doesn’t help taking the words back.
“You’re not …jealous, are you?”, Jon asks, a faint smile playing around the corner of his mouth.
“No”, Martin says too fast, “of course not”, his face feels so hot, he wonders if his husband can feel it from where he’s still cupping Martin’s face in his hand.
“…you sure about that, love?”
Jon’s thumb brushes against his husband’s warm skin and Martin squeezes his eyes shut.
“Do we really have to do this right now?”, he asks through a shaky exhale, eyes still closed behind his glasses, “shouldn’t we at least try and leave before…”
“I honestly don’t think, he’s coming here to hurt us. The end generally doesn’t get involved”
“Because they’ll win in the end anyway?”
“Yes”, Jon agrees quietly, lowering himself back onto the soles of his feet when his toes’ and legs’ complaints grow too loud to ignore any longer but he doesn’t let go of his husband, “maybe he has important news, or just wants to have some good tea”
“Or he wants to see his sleeping beauty”
“I’m fairly certain, he didn’t kiss me awake”
“Fairly certain?”
“Well, I’d wager Georgie wouldn’t just have told him to get lost, if she’d walked in on that”
“Yeah, probably”, Martin relents, tipping his head forwards until he can lay his forehead against Jon’s, “what did he do then?”
“Just”, Jon pauses for a moment, searching for words, “he just talked to me. Told me how he became an avatar and…”
“And?”
“And he told me, I had a choice to make at some point”
“Which you did”, Martin says in a much softer tone of voice than earlier.
“Which I did”, Jon agrees mouth suddenly feeling dry, “by the time, I woke up, he was gone”, he swallows, then laughs hoarsely, “really not all that romantic”
“Yeah, I know”, Martin sighs, lifting up his free hand and placing it over his husband’s, “I’m sorry”
“You don’t have to be”
“Feels like I do”
“If I’d have had the choice, I would have woken up for you, you know that, right?”
“I’m just glad you did”
“Me too”, Jon whispers when Martin turns his head and presses his lips against his husband’s fingers, palm, and wrist, “it would have made for a great story though”
“I think you literally following me into the realm of an ancient fear and getting me out does just fine”
“Perhaps”
Before Martin can answer, there’s a soft knock at the door and they pull apart.
“Okay then”, Martin says, a tad too cheerily to be genuine and Jon snorts quietly as he opens the door and lets the avatar of the end in.
---
Jon stares down at Oliver’s outstretched hand and makes no move to accept it.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Jonathan Sims”, the avatar of the end says softly, hand still outstretched between them but coming no closer to meet Jon’s.
They have ended up in the kitchen after all, having tea and the cake Oliver had brought. At some point their guest had returned his cup to its saucer with a soft clink, leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, eyes surveying the couple in front of him as he’d said what he’d come here to say and made his offer.
“You know”, Jon replies, lifting his own hand up and shaking his arm until the cuff of Martin’s cardigan slides down to his elbow and bunches there, “I heard that before somewhere”
The skin of his right is still rough and obviously scarred, the marks reaching form the tips of his fingers to his wrist. Martin has never shown any sign of repulsion of course, has made a point of always taking Jon’s right hand and kissing his fingers to proof it, but there’s a reason Jon wears gloves when he leaves the house or keeps his hand in his pocket as long as he can. At least he can still use his hand properly.
“Also, it’s not me I’m worried about”
“Of course”, Oliver inclines his head slightly, “Take your time but I promise, nothing bad will happen. No apocalypse or such.”
“No offense, but promises from… other avatars aren’t what they used to be since I stopped being able to tell when someone’s lying”
“Such is life”
“What about”, Martin says into the silence following Oliver’s last statement, “I do it. Nothing bad can happen if I’m the one-“
“No”, Jon cuts him off, “I’m not letting you risk anything for me”
“O, come on-“, Martin starts, but Oliver clears his throat.
“I’m afraid, that doesn’t really matter here. Martin was never touched by the end, so this won’t work for him”
“You’re the avatar of the end”, Martin says, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he glares at Oliver, “mark me right here and now then if that’s what it takes”
“No”, Jon repeats, more urgently this time, “Martin, don’t be- please”, he whispers, having turned to his husband, and places his hands on his forearms, “please don’t do this”
“We don’t have quite enough time for that anyway”, Oliver interjects when Martin opens his mouth again, “it’s either going to be you, Jon, or no one”
“But you still don’t have to”, Martin reminds his husband in a softer tone of voice.
He wants to say, that it doesn’t matter that much anyway, but they both know it does. He just hopes, Oliver had included the possibility of Jon learning something that makes him feel even more guilty when he’d said, that nothing bad would happen if Jon took him up on the offer to talk to Tim and Sasha.
“I do though”, Jon does sigh in the end, shifting in his seat as he squares his shoulders and reaches out to take Oliver’s hand.
Just before the tips of his fingers make contact, Martin stops him, laying his own hand over his husband’s forearm.
“Just”, he says a little too quickly, trying to ignore Oliver on the other side of the table as he moves his hand over to Jon’s free one and links their fingers, “just squeeze my hand if anything feels wrong and I keep an eye on you“
“Okay”, Jon squeezes Martin’s hand as he reaches for Oliver’s, “thank you, dear”
“Just out of interest”, Oliver starts, when he takes Jon’s hand into his cool one, “what would you do, if I were lying and wanted to do something to Jon?”
“I don’t think-“
“I’d put your eye out with that knife”, Martin cuts his husband off with a friendly smile, indicating the pie knife on the table, “and even if you’re immortal, I’m sure that’s gonna hurt”
“Good thing, I’m not planning anything then”
Oliver doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, voice remaining level as he turns to Jon.
“Are you ready?”
“I am”
Jon has already closed his eyes when Martin kisses his cheek and whispers, “tell Tim and Sasha that I miss them” into his ear.
He wants to turn to Martin and say “of course”, but a chill is spreading from Oliver’s fingers through his, up his arm and shoulder until Jon feels like someone has enclosed him in ice and he can’t move.
Jon feels like he should be having trouble breathing, like he should feel his heartbeat in his throat but there’s only coldness and he’s… calm. He knows, there’s nothing he can do, so he just lets go and forces himself to relax, letting the coolness flow through him and fill him up until he doesn’t feel cold anymore. It’s almost disconcertingly easy to just give up- give up everything really, all resistance, suspicion and, strangest of all, all fear.
“You know, he always was kinda self-centred, but now he’s literally stepped behind the veil and is still too full of himself to even open his eyes”
And it’s not like Jon has ever stopped missing Sasha and Tim, but hearing Tim’s voice, and feeling someone lightly push against his shoulder, just opens up something inside Jon- or rather opens up a pit behind him and he falls right into it, even as he opens his eyes.
Jon has tried to brace himself for Tim sneering at him, and Sasha backing away, but there they stand, or float, or simply are, for Jon can feel no ground beneath his feet, can’t make out anything around them but faint lights and shades of colours weakly pulsating around them.
“Hey, boss-man”, Tim is towering above him, even in the afterlife, but for the first time since Jane Prentiss had attacked the Institute, his face is open and soft, and he’s grinning down at Jon, hand still on his shoulder, “come here often?”
“Not recently”, Jon tries to say, but his- well his breath isn’t really knocked out of his chest, when Sasha, the real Sasha, pushes Tim aside and pulls Jon into an impossibly tight hug, but he stops speaking anyway.
“I’m sorry, Sasha”, he whispers into her hair and hugs her back as tightly as he can, “I’m- for everything. I can’t even begin-“
“And you don’t have to”, Sasha cuts him off, not letting go, “so shut up, okay?”
“Okay”
When they finally do pull apart, Jon turns to Tim, not quite daring to reach out to him.
“I know, what I did was unforgivable, but-“
“You’re really not losing any time, are you?”
One of Tim’s eyebrow just about vanishes into his hairline, when he crosses his arms in front of his chest, but he’s still grinning. The scars on his face and arms are gone, Jon notes dully when he closes his mouth and simply stares back.
“Well”, he finally tries again, meekly, “I don’t exactly know, how much time I have with you”
“Enough to relax a little”, Tim tells him, rolling his eyes but in the fond way, Jon had not seen since everything had started going wrong between them, “if you’ve figured out how to do that at this point”
“According to Martin I haven’t”
“You know, you could have really gotten over yourself a little earlier, and saved me twenty pounds”, Sasha tells him, hands on her hips.
Both their eyes lit up at the mention of Martin though and Jon feels a warmth flood through him that seems at odds with the strange non-temperature and non-gravity of the afterlife.
“I won those fair and square”, Tim slings an arm around Sasha’s shoulders, and she pushes her elbow between his ribs.
“Was there anyone at the archives who didn’t bet on Martin and me getting together?”
“I think Earl didn’t care”, Sasha tells him after a moment that lasts a little too long for Jon to not get flustered, “but janitors usually have better things to do. By the way”, she reaches for Jon’s left hand before he has time to pull away and semi-gently drags it up high enough for her and Tim to examine Jon’s ring.
“Martin always had great taste”, Tim nods, his smile softening when he adds, “there’s a line of one of his poems engraved on the inside, isn’t there?”
“It might be”
The inside of Martin’s wedding band on the other hand simply reads ‘No longer lonely’ and the date of their wedding.
“He’s happy now though, isn’t he?”, Sasha asks, when she lets go of Jon’s hand, “doesn’t cut himself off from everyone else anymore?”
“No, I think, he’s quite content now. He”, Jon has to clear his throat before he goes on, trying to get rid of the bitter taste, the reminder of why they’re here has left in his mouth, “he told me to-“
“We know”, Tim interrupts him in a softer tone of voice, “we miss him too. Been to long since… since either of us got a decent cup of tea”
“I’ll tell him”
Jon’s voice breaks the tiniest bit towards the last words and he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat but it doesn’t really make a difference, when his vision becomes blurred and he fights not to let the sobs building up in his chest out.
“Hey, come on now”, Tim says, but he’s already pulling Jon into him and wrapping his arms around him, “sh, it’s alright”
Tim had always given fantastic hugs. He had also not once asked whether Jon had actually wanted to be hugged, which had been one of the best things about it; had just pulled Jon into his arms and held him tight until he’d felt him relax and then some. Before Martin, before Scotland, those hugs, and sometimes Sasha’s were about the only form of proper physical contact the former archivist had received from time to time.
“No”, Jon sniffs now, “I didn’t even apologize properly, didn’t even try to-“
“Because we told you, you don’t have to”, Sasha reminds him when she steps up from the other side and slings her arms around both, “and we meant it. We don’t want you or Martin to hang onto all that guilt and sadness. It’s over, you two got through and that’s all that matters”
“I, I didn’t just talk about getting you killed”, Jon whispers, voice thick, “I’m so, so sorry about the way I treated you before that- Sasha, I didn’t even- and Tim, I”, he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, “if I could go back in time and change-“
“But you can’t”, Tim interrupts him, somehow managing to shrug without hitting either Sasha or Jon, “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, before the whole unknowing-thing, in the moment I meant everything I said but… now? Being here kind of gives you perspective and I know about everything that went down afterwards, so even if I were still holding a grudge, Sasha here would tell me to get over it with everything Elias put all of you through”
“That’s still no excuse”, Jon can’t help himself but add.
“Maybe, but I’ll tell you something”, Tim says after a couple of seconds, “you can trust me that everything’s alright; we’re both fine now and really, it’s okay, we promise. But if you hurt Martin, I will manage to find a way back to you living folk and haunt you till the end of your life and make every moment of your existence miserable, how does that sound?”
“Good”, Jon sniffs, but his shoulders are no longer shaking between Tim and Sasha.
“I’m on board with that”
Sasha grins quietly at Tim over Jon’s head when Tim rolls his eyes, but they don’t let go until their former boss has stopped sniffling.
“Jon”, a new voice cuts through the silence then, “I’m afraid your time here’s up”, Oliver says apologetically as he offers Jon his hand again, “unless you’d like to stay for good”
“No, thank you”, Jon shakes his head, then turns one last time to Tim and Sasha, “I really- thank you. For everything”
“Yeah, yeah, boss”, Tim squeezes Jon’s shoulder one last time, “we love you too”
“Tell Martin, what we said, okay?”, Sasha ads before she kisses Jon’s cheek, “And tell him, we really always loved him and spending time with him too”
“Of course”, Jon takes a deep breath, then takes Oliver’s hand again, “I guess, I’ll see you then”
He doesn’t quite catch Sasha’s reply, just hears Tim snicker and then everything’s cold and darkness again.
Martin isn’t quite sure what he’d expected when Oliver had offered Jon to slip behind the veil, but sitting around a table and holding Jon’s hand while his body grows cold and utterly still isn’t it.
He’s holding his breath, trying to make out his husband’s breathing, but he hears nothing, and Jon’s chest moves as little as the rest of him. Martin is just about to demand, what exactly Oliver thinks he’s doing when Oliver presses his finger to his lips and mouths ‘be still’, eyes flicking from Jon’s still face to his wristwatch.
Time passes, Martin has no idea how much, but at some point, Oliver gets up and rounds the table, Jon’s other hand still in his. Martin can’t make out, what Oliver whispers into Jon’s ear when he leans in, but he can feel the tremor that goes through his husband’s body the next moment. Can see his eyes open and hear him gasp for breath, chest now rising and falling as hard as if he’d just run a mile. Jon’s grip around Martin’s fingers tightens when Martin lays his hand against his face and gently turns his head to face him, breath still loud and rough in the quiet afternoon air. His skin is ice-cold.
“Got everything settled?”, Oliver asks as he straightens up.
“Yes- yes thank you”, Jon gasps, still starring at his husband with wide eyes.
“Just”, Martin starts, still holding Jon’s gaze, “just why exactly did you go to the effort of coming here and doing that?”
“Like I said, I dreamed of your friends a couple of times and got a short note, telling me what to say to you and do. Thought it would be better to just get on with it”
Oliver shrugs.
“You did, but-“
“Look, I don’t make the rules. I’m not sure why I got that message in the first place, but I figure there’s some convoluted reason or whatever behind it. Best not think about it too much if you ask me”
There’s not much that can be said after that and after a couple of seconds, Oliver straightens his tie and goes on;
“I’ll see myself out. Still got a lot of things to do today and hey”, he places his hand on Jon’s shoulder for moment when he passes him and Martin by, “I’ll see you when it’s time. The end doesn’t… particularly want anyone interfering with that in the case of you two so there’s that”
Before either Jon nor Martin can reply, or even think about the last part, Oliver has passed them and the front door clicks behind him, sooner than it should be possible.
“Come here you”, Martin finally pulls Jon into his arms and holds him close, until his husband calms down and finally regains the ability to breathe normally, “are you okay?”
“Yes”, Jon nods, still a little shakily and only then does he realize his teeth are chattering and he’s trembling in Martin’s embrace, “yes, I-”, he trails off, leaning into his husband and just pushing close to his warmth.
“Can you walk?”, Martin eventually softly asks, still rubbing his hands up and down Jon’s arms but that doesn’t seem to help much.
“I think so”
And Jon can walk the five meters from the kitchen to the living room, albeit slowly and with Martin’s help. By the time, he has managed to pull his legs onto the couch and lean back, Martin is back at his side, a steaming mug in his left hand, which he places on the coffee table in front of Jon, and a hot water bottle in his right, which finds a new home in Jon’s arms before Martin eases him onto his side and lays down beside him.
“Is this better?”, Martin asks, when he pulls the quilt that usually lives on the back of the couch over them, slings his arms around Jon and presses his face into the back of his neck.
“Yes, yes thank you”, Jon whispers, hugging the hot water bottle to his chest and pushing back against his husband.
Martin only loosens his hold around him when Jon stops shaking, and even then, not much.
“Did it, you know”, Martin eventually starts, “did it work? Did you see them?”
“It did”, Jon murmurs as he’s tugging one of his husbands hands up to his lips and kisses its back before he relays his conversation with Tim and Sasha.
By the time he’s finished, his skin is a little warmer, still slightly too cool, but no longer feeling like he’d just stepped out of a freezer.
“Are you okay?”, Jon asks softly, Martin’s breath still tousling his hair and brushing against the skin of the back of his neck.
“Me? I’m not the one who literally went behind the veil. Again”
“I don’t think the coma counts, I only dreamed of living people then”
“And Oliver”
“And Oliver”, Jon agrees, carefully twisting in his husband’s arms until he can bury his face in his chest and feel his heartbeat through the soft blue wool of his jumper, “no, but I’m fine. It was, it was kind of nice to see them”
Martin hums quietly.
“You know”, he eventually says, and Jon tips back his head to look at him, grey and black curls falling against Martin’s shoulder when he moves, “I think Helen’s ought to get her eyes checked; he’s really not that hot”
“Rather an acceptable level of hotness?”, Jon laughs quietly, stretching up to kiss Martin’s jaw and Martin nods slowly.
“He’s kind of alright, I guess”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, my love”