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eldritchteaparty · 3 years ago

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Chapters: 19/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Allan Schrieber Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting, Spiders Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: The group settles on a course of action much faster than Martin imagined they would.

Chapter 19 of my post-canon fix-it fic is up! Read at AO3 above or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin was still tired as they drew close to Hill Top Road the next morning. It wasn’t surprising; the best sleep he’d gotten, other than the first few hours he’d slept before the spiders, had been in Allan’s car on the way out. He’d slept completely through their stop in Canterbury, where Allan had picked up his lab equipment. He woke up with his head on Jon’s shoulder in the back seat of the car, just a few miles from their destination.

“Ow,” he said as he straightened up, his neck cracking.

“I told you you could stay home,” Jon said. “You barely slept.”

“Don’t.” Martin was cross as he rolled his neck, trying to work out the cramp, and Jon put a hand on his arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s all right.”

That about doubled the number of words they’d said to each other that morning—and now they were here, back at Hill Top Road. From the street, the house appeared less foreboding than it had the last time; it seemed brighter, somehow, despite the cloudiness of the day. Maybe the owner had been back—or maybe the most recent occupant had left.

Martin waited for Tim to get out of the seat in front of him, then got out of the car himself. He hadn’t really spoken to Tim directly since he’d shown up yesterday, and wasn’t at all sure how Tim was feeling toward him. He was therefore both reassured and taken back when Tim put a hand on his shoulder on his way to the boot of the car.

I must be looking pretty good, he thought. They’re not even asking if I’m ok anymore.

It was just the four of them; Elias and the others had opted to stay together at the house. Jon had of course wanted to go, and that meant Martin went too; Tim had also made up his mind to go once he knew Jon was going. Martin watched as Allan opened the boot and began to pull out a number of padded carrying cases of different sizes, handing a few to Tim as he did.

“I know I fell asleep, sorry��what exactly are you—”

“We’re going to attempt to measure this—gap between the dimensions.” He handed Martin one final bag, and closed the boot as he did. “All of these instruments are designed to measure different types of energy.”

“They’re all from your lab?”

“Most of them,” Allan said, a small grin on his face; Tim shook his head.

“If I get in trouble for any of that—”

“I told you, no one will even know they’re missing. We’ll get it all back this afternoon.”

“So wait—this will show what, that the gap—exists?” Martin asked.

Allan shrugged. “Well—in all honesty, not really. If we get no unusual readings, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It could just mean we don’t know how to measure it. And if we do—it doesn’t really tell us why. It would just be—well, consistent with some combination of my ideas about the entities and dimensional travel, really.”

“Um—oh. Ok.”

Jon sighed, and Martin recognized it specifically as Jon’s impatient sigh. It was one he had heard a lot in the past, although not so much recently. He supposed from Jon’s perspective, it was kind of a waste of time to not really prove the existence of something he already knew was there. As far as Martin was concerned, though, they could take all the time they wanted.

As they approached the porch, Martin found his impression from the street had been correct. There were many fewer cobwebs on the porch than there had been the last time. The lock, however, was still broken when Jon tried the door, which suggested the owner had not been back.

“You think she’s gone?” he asked Jon.

“Yes.”

“Who?” Tim looked at them suspiciously.

“Annabelle,” Jon replied casually.

“Annabelle.” Tim halted at the top of the steps on the front porch. “She’s here? Was here?”

“Was. I would have said something if—" He trailed off as he saw the look on Tim’s face. “Yes, well, the point is she’s not here.”

“Sure,” Tim said, in a way that made it clear he was not at all sure, but he did follow the rest of them into the house.

“This way.” Jon led them back to the spot in the center of the house where the scarred floorboards resided.

He’s so confident. Martin remembered how different it had been the last time they were here. Jon had been so sick; he had been grasping at straws for any way to regain his connection to the Eye. Martin certainly hadn’t wanted that to happen, but he also hadn’t wanted him to be miserable. Now, though, Jon was pushing ahead, jumping in—he was eager, excited even. Given the circumstances, Martin didn’t like it much more than he had liked things the last time they were here.

“That’s it?” Allan said, staring down at the floor. “Not really what I was expecting.”

“Well—obviously it’s not the gap itself,” Jon explained with slight irritation, as if he were offended at Allan’s disappointment. “It’s a representation of it. Certainly someone would have reported it if it were a cavernous maw extending into the infinite reaches of—”

“Yes, all right,” Allan, unbothered, set down the equipment he was carrying and seated himself on the floor next to it. “Let’s see—Tim, bring those over here, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim set his bags down on the floor next to Allan and stepped back near Martin to observe.

“So I’m thinking—hmm—let’s just start with this.” He unpacked a small handheld meter and held it up for them to see. “This is a Geiger counter.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “That’s for radiation, right?”

“Yes,” Allan replied, as he pressed a button and the instrument’s screen flickered to life. He looked up in their direction just long enough to catch the anxious look on Martin’s face.

“No need to worry,” Allan said cheerfully as he stood up. “I’ll be looking at this from several angles, and this is just somewhere to start. Don’t let the idea of radiation bother you. There’s some level of radiation around us all the time—background radiation, it’s completely—well, not harmless, exactly, but well within the bounds of what the human body can withstand. This particular instrument is sensitive enough that we should be able to see relatively minor deviations from what we’d expect.”

“Oh,” Martin said, not knowing what else to say.

“All right, here we go.” Allan held the instrument up in the air and pressed a button and waited while it emitted an uneven series of a few clicks, and then checked the screen. He repeated this several more times, then nodded.

“Well?” Tim asked.

“Oh, sorry. I haven’t really done anything yet, just measuring background levels. Nothing out of the ordinary, pretty much what you’d expect for this part of England. But now I’ll know what I’m comparing to when I measure—that.” He gave another unimpressed look at the jagged mark running over the floor before bending over it with the instrument in hand. He moved it close to the mark and repeated the same process of measurements—pressing a button and then waiting for the clicks, then repositioning it to another spot, pressing the button and waiting again. “Huh.”

“What?” Martin couldn’t read Allan’s expression at all.

“Nothing,” Allan said, shrugging as he stood straight again. “I was averaging in my head, of course, so I might not be quite right, but—it would be like taking your temperature and reading 37 degrees exactly.”

Martin was relieved, but Jon, standing apart from the rest of the group, did not seem to be feeling the same way.

“Well, let’s move on,” Allan said, returning to his equipment pile and choosing a new device. “Let’s try this one. It’s for—oh—electromagnetic fields, radio frequencies—it’s sort of a cheap piece of equipment, actually, not very precise—but it should give us a good general picture.” He squatted down next to the mark on the floor again, adjusted a dial on the instrument, and began to move it closer and further away. He adjusted the dial several times as he continued to move it around the floor.

“Still nothing,” he said after a few minutes, sitting back on his haunches.

“Then that’s not the right way to measure it,” Jon said.

“I said when we came in that was a strong possibility,” Allan said, but it was clear Jon didn’t like this turn of events. “I’ve got a few more things we can—"

“It’s here,” Jon said.

“Can’t you just know the right way to measure it, then?” Tim’s tone was sarcastic, but Jon paused.

“Well…” He concentrated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Apparently I can’t.” His growing frustration was obvious.

“Hey.” Now that Martin was starting to feel a bit easier about everything, he felt a little bit bad for Jon. “That’s—that’s all right. That just means we’ll need more time to—”

Martin’s attempt at soothing him didn’t work. “But it’s right there. Damn it, I know it’s there. I can feel it, it’s like it’s just on the other side of—”

“Oh,” Allan said. Martin’s eyes jumped back to the instrument in his hand, still hovering just over the mark in the floor, and there was some kind of movement on the digital screen. A moment later, it had gone quiet again.

“What was that?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know.” Allan frowned. “It’s like there was a sudden—pulse of electrical activity. A lot of it.”

“Jon,” Tim said, looking over at him, “did you do something? While you were talking?”

“That couldn’t possibly—” Allan started to say, but Jon cut him off.

“Yes,” Jon said. “I—I don’t know, I was looking for the—well, really, the tape—it’s—”

“Oh,” Allan said again, as the numbers on the screen resumed their movement. He walked it intently over different parts of the floor, then moved it further away and then closer again. Martin couldn’t really follow the whole thing from where he was standing, but Allan’s body language was enough to concern him. “This—this doesn’t make sense. Even if—Jon, stop. Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

“All right.”

“Incredible,” Allan said after a moment had passed. “That really shouldn’t be possible. There’s no—” He stood and walked toward Jon, and extended the meter toward him. “Do it one more time.”

“Don’t—” Martin started.

“I’m all right,” Jon snapped, but then softened as Martin felt the slight sting of his tone. “I’m—I’ll be careful. I’m fine right now.”

Allan was concentrating hard as he looked at the screen. “What was—have you done it yet?”

“No, I was—”

“It’s just that—never mind. Do it again. If—if you’re ok.”

Jon nodded, and glanced briefly in Martin’s direction. “I’m ok.”

Martin watched as Allan moved the instrument around Jon for the next thirty seconds or so, again switching the dial several times.

“Well?” Tim asked, as Allan stepped away.

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “Tim, can you—can you fetch the Geiger counter for me again?”

Tim did, and Allan stood back from Jon as he held it up into the air again. They heard the occasional irregular click as he did.

“So for now, don’t, um—just don’t,” he said as he stepped toward Jon. The frequency of the clicks began to increase as he moved the meter closer to his head, and Allan made a small sound in his throat as he flipped a switch on the instrument. “Let’s just—keep the sound off for right now.”

Martin could feel some of the blood drain from his face.

“Ok, now—know something,” Allan asked.

“What?” Jon said. “Sorry, it’s always difficult to think of—”

“Anything. Just not the—the gap. I want to see if—”

“Did I have coffee or tea this morning?” Tim asked.

Jon thought. “Coffee.”

“Stop,” Allan said. “Stop.” He took a step back, white faced, and looked at Jon as if he had just appeared there.

“What?”

“Can I ask—how long did you say you’ve been doing this?”

“Knowing things? Uh—a few years? I mean—not always like this, at first it was much harder, and—"

“A few years.” Allan turned the thought over. “Ok. I’m going to say this once—because I think you should know. I don’t see—I don’t see how you’re—well, alive.”

There were long seconds of silence before Jon answered.

“I’m fine.”

Martin exploded. “You are not fine.”

“I just meant in the sense that—”

“I know, and—”

“I am alive. That is the point.”

More long seconds ticked by.

“You heal though, right?” Tim said quietly. “Like—after you—like when I found you in front of the Institute.”

“Yes.” A look of sudden understanding passed across Jon’s face. “Yes, that’s right. That—that would make sense.”

“Would it?” Allan looked at Martin. “You, um—sorry to—you’re—well, you’re sharing a room, so—I imagine you’re—close?”

Martin wasn’t sure what Allan was getting at. “Um—”

“Yes. He heals too. Or, he has, in the past.” Oh, Martin thought, after he heard Jon’s answer.

Oh.

“Wait. Are you saying that being near Jon is—”

“I don’t know,” Allan said. “I really don’t know. This is entirely unprecedented. It really shouldn’t—” He started to say something else, but hesitated.

“What?” Jon asked.

“I—” he hesitated again. “I want to do more tests, but I’m not sure if it’s—well, entirely ethical.”

“To ask me to keep going, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Allan looked at Martin.

“It’s not up to me,” Martin said.

Allan looked between Martin and Jon. “I’m, uh—I’m going to run out to the car for some extra equipment. Tim, come with me? I could use your help.”

“Sure,” Tim answered, and followed him out.

Martin waited a moment after they were gone, then said quietly, “I’m not sleeping away from you.”

“Martin.” Jon walked over to where he was standing and reached out to touch Martin’s hand. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good.” He had more to say, but he didn’t.

“Come on. That’s not what this is about. You don’t want me to do this.”

Martin sighed. “Fine. No, I don’t. I don’t want you to do any of this. Not just the tests, or whatever. Like—any of this.”

“I have to,” Jon said. “You know that.”

“Why do you think I didn’t say it? I can’t stop you. And I’d rather you not shut me out.”

“Martin, that—” He stopped himself, and squeezed Martin’s hand instead. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Martin let his hand fall away as Allan and Tim returned; Allan had put on a long-sleeved lab coat, and was holding a pair of gloves and a mask. “Just a precaution,” he said. “If you want to go ahead.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “I do.”

Martin watched as Allan pulled out yet another meter from a different bag. “Martin—can you hand me that?” he asked, indicating the case Martin was still carrying. He’d forgotten about it.

“Oh. Sure.” Martin handed it to him and he began to unpack that as well.

“So—this is so I can record the readings,” he said, as he pulled some wires out and began to connect them to the new meter. “And this is—it uses a more powerful method of detection than the Geiger counter. It’s not as sensitive, but that’s, uh—well, that’s not going to be an issue.”

Martin suddenly realized how much he didn’t want to be there anymore.

“I’m going outside. I’ll just be out front.” Without waiting for anyone’s reaction, he made his way back to the front of the house. He stood on the porch, his arms folded and resting on the railing. He looked out over the lawn. The rest of the neighborhood, apart from this house, really was a suburb. It seemed nice enough; maybe not a great neighborhood, but not a bad one, certainly. It hadn’t really done anything to deserve this awful place.

He sat and watched the clouds roll overhead and wondered it if would rain. He tried not to think too much about what was going on inside the house, what they were doing and where it would lead. He had no idea how long he had been standing there when he became aware that he wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” Tim said, as Martin looked over at him.

“Hey,” Martin answered, then went back to looking up at the sky. “So—what’s going on in there?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “It’s like some sort of weird playdate? It’s over my head. Allan keeps turning dials and saying things like incredible and amazing and then Jon—”

“Never mind,” Martin said. “Just—is he keeping himself together? Jon, I mean?”

“He seems to be.”

They looked out at the sky and lawn together.

“Martin,” Tim said eventually, “I know I said this before, but I want you to know I meant it. Jon is lucky to have you.”

“Hm.”

“Listen, I know—I know this has to be hard for you. Before we—before we make any decisions, I want you to know that—”

“Don’t,” Martin said coldly.

“All right.” Tim nodded and returned to looking back over the railing. “Do you want to be alone?”

No, Martin thought. I don’t ever want to be alone again. He wanted to scream it.

Instead, he just said, “Not particularly.”

“Good,” Tim said. “I don’t particularly want to go back in there.”

***

“So—wait,” Melanie said, looking at Allan over her half-empty dinner plate. “You’re saying you don’t really know anything at all, then?”

“Well, yes and no.” He was struggling to find words as they sat together in the great room again. “What I’m saying is—from a scientific perspective, which of course is why I’m here—there’s no way to know what any of this means. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. It’s completely unique, as far as I know.”

“So we can’t prove there’s a gap between dimensions, and we can’t prove the entities exist,” Sasha clarified.

“Correct,” Allan said. “I can’t even begin to suggest a mechanism for anything I saw today.”

“But you did see something today,” Melanie prodded.

“Well—yes,” Allan said. “That’s an understatement. We saw massive fluctuations of energy just—across almost the entire spectrum. And—again, I have no way to explain it or understand it, but—Jon does appear to be able to manipulate it, to some extent.”

“Well, that’s definitely something,” Melanie said. “You said you recorded your readings. Do you think you’ll learn anything else from going back through them?”

“Not—not in a way that could help us. It will take years to even begin to make any real sense of this. As—as a scientist. To be perfectly clear, I—I can’t vouch for any particular course of action. I have no way of verifying that there has ever been any travel across dimensions, or that—starting an apocalypse would provide the energy required to do it again, or—or that anything we discussed yesterday is even a possibility.”

“As a scientist,” Georgie repeated. “What about—as a person? What do you think?”

“I’m—I’m not sure that’s really what’s important here.”

“Yes, it is.” It was one of the few things Elias had said at all since they’d come home.

“I agree,” Sasha said. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“Well—personally”—he looked around at the group— “after what I’ve heard from all of you, and after talking with Elias last night—I believe Jon.”

It was quiet for a moment as the group absorbed this. Martin’s stomach, which had already rejected even the concept of any food he’d thought about putting in it that night, tightened painfully.

“Ok,” Georgie said slowly. “Well—for the sake of argument—Jon, do you really think you could do it? Could you—could you really move us to another dimension? In a way that—well, will actually help things?”

“I can do it,” Jon said, without hesitation.

“No,” Martin said.

The discomfort was tangible; Martin could tell nobody wanted to speak.

“Martin,” Sasha finally said, “why—why are you so against this?”

“I’ve already said. It’s too dangerous.”

“So you think he can’t do it? That it won’t work?”

Martin drew his hand down firmly over his mouth.

“Say what you have to say,” Jon urged him. Martin didn’t care for how calm he was. “They should hear it.”

Martin stared at him. “Ok, fine. Fine, I’ll say it. If you think you can do it—I’m sure you can. I’m just not sure you will. What if—what if this time—what if the Eye finally just takes you?”

“It won’t. It didn’t last time.”

“Didn’t it?”

“No. Not—not like that. I still—I still got to choose.”

“And we still don’t know what Annabelle’s been trying to get you to do.”

“She doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Do you believe me that I’ll never let them out of here? The entities? That’s what she wants.”

Martin paused; he knew his panic was coming across to everyone. “Yes. But that’s not—even if you don’t—look, if it fails, that’s it for us. We’re stuck in an apocalypse. This world is stuck in an apocalypse. You said that yourself.”

“And it’s still true. It is a risk. But I don’t think I’ll fail.”

“But what happens to you? What if—what if we lose you?”

Jon looked away.

“Jon?” Georgie prompted.

“It’s—it’s a possibility.”

“How much of a possibility?” Georgie asked.

“It’s—um—” Jon cleared his throat. “It’s not unlikely.”

“I see,” Sasha said.

“That matters, right?” Martin somehow managed to get the words out. “Tell me that matters to the rest of you.”

“Of course it matters,” Sasha said. “I didn’t—"

“No, it doesn’t,” Jon said.

“Jon—”

Several people began to talk at the same time, but it was Tim who won out.

“Listen,” he said. “Listen. I know—I know this is going to sound awful, but—I agree with Jon.”

“It does sound awful,” Sasha reprimanded him. “It sounds completely awful.”

“Just hear me out.” Tim spoke his words slowly and deliberately. “If I were Jon—if I could stop this—if I had this chance to—to save the people they haven’t hurt yet—I would. I wouldn’t hesitate. And I wouldn’t want anyone to stop me.”

“Yes, you would,” Jon said. “You did.”

“And—I know I’ve been angry—but this isn’t about that. It’s not because I blame him. It’s because he’s the only one who can. I think—I think this should be Jon’s choice. That’s all.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Jon was still calm, controlled. Martin hated it.

Tim briefly met Martin’s eyes before looking down to the floor in front of him. “And I wouldn’t wait. I’d—I’d want to just do it. If we really can’t learn anything else, I say we do it soon. Tomorrow, if we can. Prevent as much further damage as possible.”

“I agree,” Jon said.

“No,” Martin said. “That’s insane. Are you insane?” He looked around at the group; none of them would look back at him. “Have you all lost your minds? Are you considering this?”

“I—I don’t know,” Sasha said, finally raising her face. “Are we?”

“Jesus Christ.” Martin got to his feet, not really sure where he was going; he was halfway there before he realized he was headed for the door to the back of the house. Behind him, he heard several people speaking, although he had no idea if they were talking to him; he couldn’t process it anymore. He couldn’t think at all until he felt the cool night air on his face. He stopped, heart pounding, and crumpled onto the porch against the back of the house. For the first time in his recent memory, he wanted to cry; of course, now he couldn’t make the tears come.

Behind him, he heard the door open and close.

“Go away.” He didn’t really care who it was.

“I’d rather not.” Beside him, Jon lowered himself onto the porch; for some reason, Martin had assumed it would be one of the others. He was surprised to find he felt slightly mollified. “We don’t have to talk. It’s just—I don’t have anywhere else I want to be right now.”

“Come off it. Go back in and keep explaining why you need to martyr yourself.”

“I’ve said what I need to say. It’s better if they talk without us.”

Martin sighed heavily. “They’re going to go for it, aren’t they?”

Jon didn’t answer him. Instead, he moved closer to Martin, leaning into him and resting his head on his shoulder. Hollow as he felt, Martin didn’t even think; his automatic response was to put his arm around Jon, pulling him in even closer. He pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s ear.

“We never had a chance, did we,” he said. “The two of us.”

“We still might.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“I never believed we’d be here, either.” Jon said.

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Jon turned so that his back was against Martin’s chest, and Martin did what he always did; he slipped his hand up under the edge of Jon’s shirt, bringing it up to the scar on Jon’s ribcage. Instead of protesting or merely tolerating it, though, this time Jon brought his own hand to rest over Martin’s on the outside of his shirt.

“I loved you here too, you know,” Jon said quietly. “Before this, I mean. In this world.”

“Oh, I know,” Martin said.

“Well. Here I thought I was making a grand romantic confession, but—never mind, I guess.”

“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” He kissed Jon’s temple softly by way of apology. “Thank you. I just meant now that—now that we’ve been together, now that I know what you’re like when you—it’s sort of obvious, looking back. Plus, there was your pin.”

“My pin?”

“You know—when we had forgotten everything when we first—and you couldn’t remember your pin number on your laptop.”

“Oh,” Jon said, and even in the dark Martin saw a smile play across his lips. It had been too long since he had seen Jon smile. “Right. I used your birthday. That’s—is it odd that I feel embarrassed?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Sasha just—she insisted I set it in front of her, and then she kept guessing them—”

“Because you kept typing 1234.”

“Well—yes, but—anyway, it just came into my head, and I knew no one would ever guess, because—because I was never going to tell anyone how I felt. Especially not you.”

“Yeah, well—I wasn’t going to either.” He held Jon tighter. “We’re a couple of idiots. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” Jon turned his face up and back, and Martin couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Martin,” Jon said, “I know—I know I’ll never change your mind.”

“If it were me, you would never go along with it. You would never let me—you didn’t, actually.”

“I—” Jon paused. “No. You’re right. I’m asking you to do something I couldn’t do.”

“Thank you.”

“I just—I want you to understand. I want you to hear me.” He paused.

“I’m listening.”

“Nothing will ever fix what I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do this. Jonah Magnus did this. The Web did this. The—never mind. Go on.”

“Nothing will ever undo it. Every day I think about—about Sasha. And Tim. And Daisy. The other ones, the ones who—and an entire world of human beings who suffered because of things I did. And then there’s everyone here in this world who—none of them should ever have—” Jon’s voice cracked. “But I can stop it. I can make it so it doesn’t get worse. Or at least—at least give it a real chance. And I have to try.”

“And you have to try tomorrow.”

“Tim was right, Martin. Every day that passes like this is—”

“Tim is just worried about Danny.”

“Is that wrong of him?”

“I—no. No, I guess not. My point is just that it’s not like he’s—it’s still completely selfish.”

“He’s not being any more selfish than you.”

“I know that.” His chest ached as he breathed in, and he sighed reflexively. Jon turned just enough to tuck his head against Martin’s collarbone, and he felt his chest loosen just a little. “Ok, but really—what about Annabelle? That’s not being selfish. We both know what she wants—but we have no idea how she’s trying to get it. And we’re probably walking into it.”

“Probably.”

“Well then, why—”

“Because I don’t intend to give it to her.”

“But that’s exactly the point, we don’t know how—”

“Do you really think that waiting will solve that? Even if she is trying to push me—do you really think that she won’t just—change tactics? Adapt?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“If we wait to—I don’t know, learn something, let something happen that she doesn’t want—do you really believe she won’t have some other plan?”

He hadn’t ever thought that far ahead, to what would happen after they waited, whatever that meant. He realized with a sinking heart that no, he didn’t really believe it.

“But then—why are we doing anything at all? Why are we even bothering? If we can’t ever do the right thing—”

“Because we have to try. I have to try. I just do. Doing nothing would be—and maybe—maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Yeah. That—that’s our thing, for sure. Luck.”

Jon reached for Martin’s free hand, the one that wasn’t against his heart, and pulled it to his mouth; he kissed each knuckle in turn. “We haven’t been entirely unlucky.”

Martin was out of things to say. Once more, Jon had already won. Everyone in the room behind them was deciding to go ahead with this stupid plan. There was nothing he could do that was going to stop it.

Well—as he thought about it, he did have one more thing to say.

“Jon—I don’t—I don’t want to go into this like—like last time. So—just so you know—nothing’s changed. I’m going with you. Wherever that is.”

Jon held his breath for a moment before answering. “And if I can save you—"

“Then you’d better save both of us.”

“Martin—”

“No. You know what’s out there for me without you, and—I don’t want it. You can’t—" Jon turned suddenly in his arms, so that Martin’s hand slid from his ribs to his shoulder.

He kissed him.

“Jon—”

“Please.”

They were still kissing several minutes later when Jon abruptly sat up; he opened his mouth to say something, but then learned back in toward Martin.

“No,” Martin said, putting a hand up to Jon’s face. “You know something, don’t you? They decided and you know.”

Jon nodded, sliding his hand over Martin’s as he did. “Yes.”

“Ok.”

“They want to do it. Tomorrow.”

***

It was hours later; Martin didn’t know how long he had lain awake. He’d come back to the bedroom on his own at first; he’d stayed for some of the planning, listened to their excitement, their nerves, their arguing—but it had quickly gotten to the point where he couldn’t do it anymore. He knew where he would be anyway, and that was with Jon; he had nothing else to contribute. The looks he’d gotten when he’d stood up had been seared into his consciousness, a mixture of worry and pity.

“Martin,” Sasha called to him as he was leaving, “are you—”

“Yes,” he’d said.

He’d gone to brush his teeth before getting in bed. He didn’t know what possessed him, particularly, but when he saw his reflection in the mirror, he did something he hadn’t done in a long while. He removed his shirt to look at his own scars. They were still there; they were exactly the same as they had been on the day he’d first seen them, dark red to pale white, torn and jagged and alternately smooth.

He was tired, he’d realized. He wanted to sleep, of course, he was still exhausted from the night before—but it was more than that. This was all just enough. Maybe it was all right. Maybe he and Jon had already had more time than they were meant to. Maybe it was time to let it go. Just—just so long as he didn’t end up alone.

He’d gotten in bed. He’d almost fallen asleep before Jon had come in, but after Jon had undressed and slipped under the sheets next to him, the restlessness had begun. Each time Jon moved, or sighed, or breathed even a little bit out of rhythm, Martin’s brain nudged him awake again. And now, here he was, sleepless and empty.

He breathed out, trying to reset his mind.

“Martin.”

“Sorry.” He’d thought Jon had been asleep.

“What—no, don’t apologize, just—go to sleep. You need rest for tomorrow.”

“I can’t.”

There was silence, and for a moment, he thought Jon had drifted off again.

“Martin, I’m—I’m not leaving you. I won’t go without you. You need to sleep.”

“I—I know.” He was lying, and Jon knew he was lying.

“Martin, this isn’t—this isn’t like last time. For one thing, I’d—I’d have to steal a car to get back to London on my own. All right? Can you trust me?”

Martin swallowed; that was exactly the problem, he realized. “I want to. I just—”

“Ok. All right. You’re right, of course you—that’s not fair for me to ask. I—hang on.” He saw the light from Jon’s cell phone; he heard him stand up and rummage through the suitcase on his side of the bed before sitting down on the mattress again.

“Jon—”

“Here. Give me your hand.” He held up his arm; Jon grabbed his hand, and Martin realized Jon was trying something around their wrists in the light from the phone.

“What—”

“It’s an old drawstring that pulled out from a pair of shorts. I never took it out of my suitcase.” He grabbed one end of the string in his mouth and pulled with his other hand. “There. I can’t possibly untie that without waking you up.”

“Are you going to be able to sleep?”

“I think so.” Jon turned off the light on his phone, and Martin felt the tug on his arm as Jon leaned over to put it back on the table next to the bed. “Anyway, I’m—I’m all right. You’re—not.”

“This—” Martin started to laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

“Yes. It is. Does it matter?” Jon interlaced his fingers with Martin’s and carefully folded up their bound arms between them; he brought his head to rest on the pillow next to Martin’s shoulder.

“I—I guess not.” He didn’t even realize he was finally crying until Jon reached up with his other hand to touch his cheek. He felt better for it, somehow; feeling something was good. It was better than the emptiness.

“Sleep.”

He did.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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sam-roulette · 4 years ago

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💍 Timsasha?

god these two are so fuckin cute ;w;

where they get married?

some kind of outdoor venue 100%, probably in a fancy courtyard with plenty of green spaces and a cute lil pond in the background!

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

it’s a summer wedding!! with a winter wonderland theme- it’s the best of both worlds all at once, and close to dusk, the sight of fireflies over fake snow makes for the perfect setting ;w;

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc.

They do the bouquet toss 100%! but first they’re play fighting over who actually tosses the thing hgvjh and if Martin is just the one who catches it that :) is a coincidence :)

what their wedding cake looks like?

god you know those cake designs where its really elegant white for the most part and then you turn it and down the side the entire thing is cut in such a way to look like a geode inside? it looks like that!

….who smashes cake into whose face

they take the non-rock candy side and just each go for each other at once. Tim’s got cake in his veil. Sasha’s licking frosting from her lips. they’re both messes and theyre just laughing like hell with each other

who proposed to who first

Sasha! Tim also had a ring picked out and stashed but he’s always looking for just the ~right moment~, and he doesn’t want to pressure Sasha- which is why when she takes him to the park on night and does the cheesy ‘dropping to one knee’ proposal he’s almost in tears from how happy he is

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Tim walks down the aisle with Sasha at the altar, sitting so that she has a chance to rest her legs. Walking has been difficult, since escaping the not!them

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Sasha’s gone all out with the ivory corsetted ballgown-and-pearl blazer combo, gloves colored a brighter white- but Tim, in a matching corset over his pale blue sleeved shirt and trouser combination, is wearing the veil.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

it’s a winter wonderland in summer theme! Which works a lot better in summer than one might think; a nice, elegant mix of whites, blues, creams and violets, complimented by the sweet summer clematis that naturally grows and the open greenery of the venue. It’s almost all outdoors, but the reception’s in those tents- you know the ones?- and even though the mix of subdued colors and bright, vivid colors should clash, it just looks lovely, like two moments in time bleeding together

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

white heather primarily (symbolizing protection, admiration, and that your wishes will come true) with two bright yellow sunflowers, the only points of sunny color in the wedding ;w;

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

They both try to write out their vows at first- especially Tim, putting those editor skills to use, what a nerd- but Sasha gets so caught up in the emotion of the moment that she forgets everything she put down and just speaks from the heart

if anyone’s late to the wedding

Danny, by virtue is being like Super dead

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Jon, Georgie and Melanie end up with the groom’s party and Martin, Daisy and Basira end up in the bride’s party

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Sasha and Tim tell each and every one of them that the theme for the wedding is something totally different than it actually is and that’s why Jon is glowering by Tim’s side in a hawaiian shirt and Daisy is in full 18th century dress by Sasha’s side, alongside with things 1 and 2 What the Girlfriends and Martin dressed as a lounge singer. Only Basira had the sense to sneak into their wedding plans and is in appropriate colors. Tim and Sasha are smiling extra in group photos

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Tim says a few words, but Jon gives the best man speech. It’s an oddly emotional one, looking fondly back over their times in research together and even the times when things were a bit rocky between them (around s3), and they slowly reconciled. He’s just glad everyone’s here and alive to share this

who catches the bouquet( s )

Martin catches the first but Melanie catches the second that Sasha “forgot” she had

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

some of them are sweet! some of them are silly! but in each and every one, Tim and Sasha look as though they’re having the times of their lives, and the photos taken when they don’t know their photos are being taken just show them looking at each other with such love in their eyes. leaning forehead to forehead while taking the first dance. Tim glancing at Sasha with a soft smile as she reaches just a little too far over the table, jacket slipping off her shoulder a bit. Sasha glancing at Tim while he’s thumbing through the records near the DJ, looking concentrated for all the world. They’re just in love and they didn’t even expect to make it this far...

what sort of food they have at the reception

The kind of food you eat, I assume (and also a dessert table and candy bar!! can’t have a wedding without some vices!)

who cries first during the ceremony

Oh, Tim, 100%. He adores Sasha so much that it’s unreal, and she’s a little misty-eyed herself. (Also Jon is a fuckin wreck in the audience but this ain’t about him)

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Neither of them get blackout drunk but Tim ends up a little tipsy by the end of the night. They’ve all made a fool of themselves on the dancefloor at least once

what their rings are like

Sapphires and silver and diamonds that are specifically lab grown, because Tim saw Sasha get really enthusiastic about the invention of those and wanted to see if there were any on the market. Tim’s has the biggest diamond, though, since Sasha couldn’t rest if he didn’t have something as pretty as he was

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

whatever can be found tbh! They have a fairly small wedding in the first place- Tim doesn’t have a lot of family left, and Sasha barely knows hers, so it’s mostly just something with mutual friends. All the decorations are free reign to nab

where they go for their honeymoon

Someplace tropical, with a lot of outdoor activities and a cultural history that they can both explore together! Maybe somewhere in Greece. Maybe that island from Mamma Mia. who’s to say

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Martin gets drunk. Hoooo boy does Martin get drunk. Absolutely no one else knows why he just so happened to drink so much- Tim speculates that it’s because he got so distracted with the thought of having caught the bouquet, he just wasn’t watching himself, while Sasha reckons that the cocktails tasted too similar to the mocktails to know the difference. By the end he’s managed to make Jon so flustered he nearly slides on a tablecloth and everyone remembers that his makeup was somehow perfect even by the end of the night

who officiates the ceremony

Some fuckin dude? Maybe? Do you actually need someone to officiate the ceremony or

what song their first dance is to

Paul Anka’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder- is using a song from 1959 a little too esoteric ? Perhaps, but after this it’s just indie and obscure folk music mixing with 2000s pop for five hours

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

No one. Tim walks down the aisle alone, but holds, in a closed hand, an old necklace Danny had given him. Danny, even in death, was the only choice he would ever make for this

#timsasha #sam tag #asks

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