#so being able to futz with it again helped them calm down

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next tw: anxiety attack

[haberdashing]

No Puppet Strings Can Hold Me Down (6/?)

The Magnus Archives fanfic. An AU that diverges from canon between episodes 159 and 160, in which Peter Lukas’ statement that “he got you” takes on a different meaning.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Jon still had no way of keeping time, and that was starting to get to him.

He could try to Know the time, he supposed, and Know when they’d left and Know when he’d stopped being himself (and started being Jonah, that is, as he was pretty sure any more existential way of approaching such a question couldn’t be answered so easily), but given his previous luck on trying to Know things on purpose, he’d probably just end up with some useless knowledge like where apples were from originally. (Central Asia, apparently. Not information he needed, but information that had been thrust upon him just the same.)

The sun had well and truly set by the time they left the petrol station, whenever that was, and while the full moon provided some light, using it to keep track of time was only really possible when he was looking right at it, which wasn’t often.

Also, the taste of salt and vinegar crisps lingered in his mouth far longer than it should have. Gross.

At some point Jonah had him cover his eyes with one arm (not that that meant much for either of them, as they could still See just fine without being able to, well, see) and slump over to the side. That was presumably either a genuine attempt at getting sleep or Jonah feigning the same, and maybe it worked, too, because the next thing Jon knew the moonlight had shifted significantly and Martin was futzing with the car radio.

Jonah-Jon moved his arm and looked up, and Martin glanced over, wide-eyed. “Did I wake you? Sorry, I just- I think we’re close enough to Glasgow we might be able to catch the radio again.”

Jon’s response was a noncommittal grunt.

“I’ll try not to make it too loud, so you can go back to sleep if you want.”

Jon silently shook his head and stared bleary-eyed at Martin’s hands as he fiddled with the radio settings. (Martin’s hands were so much bigger than Jon’s own, but they still had a softness to them, a softness great enough that he could almost feel Martin’s hand against his own as he stared, warm and soothing and... this was probably not what he should be focusing on right now, was it?)

“-still they lead me back, to the long, winding-”

“-some time to do the things we never-”

“-had a feeling I was gonna be that one in-”

“-futures are on the decline today, as-”

“-and former head of the Magnus Institute-”

“Did that just mention the Institute?” Martin said, his voice oddly high-pitched as he moved his hand away from the dial. Out of his peripheral vision, Jon could see that his weren’t the only eyes fixed on the radio now; Martin did the same, as if staring at the screen which displayed what station it was tuned into would somehow make the words coming out of the speaker more comprehensible.

Martin pulled over to the side of the road immediately, and Jon and Martin both stared, silent, transfixed, as the calm voice from the radio went on.

“-dead last night after police were called to the scene of an active shooting incident on the Institute’s grounds. Bouchard was the only casualty, though four others were hospitalized, all currently in stable condition. No suspects have been named at this time, but-”

Martin turned to Jon with a strange, unreadable look on his face. “Jon, are you on the run for murder again?”

Oh, god, he was, wasn’t he? The second time--in as many years, even!--that Jon was being blamed for a murder that Jonah Magnus had actually committed. Though this time at least he’d seen it play out in person, this time it had even been his own finger on the trigger...

“I certainly hope not.” Jonah responded, a hint of levity in his voice.

“That’s not much of an answer.” Martin sighed. “God, I can’t believe Elias is dead and... and I didn’t even know. It’s like it didn’t even happen! And here he told me the Institute staff would all die if he did, and, and you might die, Jon-”

“And you believed him?”

Jon laughed, on the inside, where it counted. So Jonah Magnus himself knew that Jonah (or... or whatever he wanted to call himself) didn’t exactly have a reputation for being trustworthy...

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

Martin knew it, too, because he responded by making a face and saying, “Fair point.”

The radio kept blaring on in the background, but whatever they’d been saying about the Institute and Elias Bouchard’s death was evidently over, as they’d moved on to discussing the weather to come in the week ahead.

“If... if he’s dead, then, and all that talk about how he controlled the Institute was just that, just empty talk... does that mean we’re free now? Free from the Institute, free from him?”

Jon couldn’t help but see the irony in the situation as Jonah Magnus’ whims controlled his voice, his mouth, his entire body, as he replied, “Maybe. God, I hope so.”

Perhaps Martin thought they were free from Jonah Magnus and his smug scheming, but Jon knew better.

Jon knew he had never been less free in his life.