Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jon sat at the end of the world, trying not to let any thought penetrate his calm silence. He was surprised he had even gotten his thoughts to die down, if he was honest. Though, Jon had gone through so much pain, so much fear, so much sadness, that he guessed his mind just gave up on… really everything. There was no point in crying, reminiscing, no point in anything, quite frankly. Jon wasn't sure if there really ever had been. Every step he took from the day he had picked up that wretched book, ‘A Guest For Mr. Spider’, had seemingly been planned for him, by the Eye, or the Web, or some other stupid entity that just wanted to use him as a catalyst for the end of the world. Jon knew there was a time that he hadn't thought like this. A time where hope had filled his heart, along with another feeling…

Shut up shut up shut up. We were doing so well, and it's not like we’re ever getting him or any of them back, and it's all our fault it was always all our fault and- 

Jon gasped when he felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of his quickly spiraling thoughts. Standing in front of him was a strange being. Not really strange in appearance. Other than the eyes that seemed to appear on its arms and cheeks, all of them being a poisonous green, it seemed like a normal human. It had long drooping wavy hair, which was impossibly white. Its skin was pale, and it seemed to be wearing a black cloak with green silk coating the inside. The reason it was strange to Jon, was the fact of how familiar it was. He was sure he had never seen this person in his days in the archives, not even Seen them before, yet the familiarity that he saw in them was as normal as the click of a recorder… oh. Oh. The person, who was glaring at Jon a few moments earlier, narrowed their eyes at Jon. “Yeah.” They- it?- said to Jon, as if the information he just got was obvious. “How-” Jon had no idea where to begin, whether he should scream, cry, or just pass out, and instead a question stumbled out of his mouth. “How are you the Eye?”

The Eye seemed to be caught by surprise at first, (probably from being on the receiving side of the question rather than the interrogating side) but smiled a bit at Jon. “Well, I'm not entirely the Eye.” they admitted, standing up to their full height after seeming to get tired of having to hold Jon by the shoulders. They were quite tall, easily 6’ft, which didn't seem that impossible for a fear god. Hell, they were probably taller. “Even for my pupil, you, that would be way too much to handle, to comprehend.” they explained, beginning to pace around. “But, this is a new form I'm trying. To get to mingle with humans. It is very fun to customize this body. If I'm honest, I'm amazed I didn't try this sooner” it rambled on with a grin on its face. “What do you mean, mingle with humans?” Jon asked, starting to wonder if all his sleep deprivation was catching up to him and he was finally hallucinating. The Eye opened their mouth to begin, but stopped. “...you need not worry about that, my boy” they said looking to the side. It was interesting actually, as the eyes on its face were mostly erratic in their patterns, looking anywhere and everywhere, a few of them following the main pair of eyes' lead, but most of them not. This time, however, all of them looked to the side, all collectively avoiding Jon's gaze (which, although suspicious, like they all had some guilty secret, Jon did not mind as much, as it was unsettling when they were looking at him). “But let's get to the point of why I'm here” the eye said, pulling its attention to Jon again. They sat down and looked Jon straight in the eyes, poison green to impossible green. “Listen. I am a fear god. You see me as a god of fear and misery. I get that. But-” they put their hands together and pointed them down. “There is also the fact that you are my favorite special little cat boy.” Jon blinked very hard, not really understanding what the actual hell was going on. “SO THEREFORE,” the Eye said theatrically, jumping up, “I refuse to let you just rot away in this depressing state you have found yourself in” they said triumphantly. “What?” Jon asked, fear creeping into his throat. What could that mean? What was the Eye's plan for fixing this predicament? It couldn't possibly be good, right? They smiled, staring at Jon with a strange glint in their eyes, a mix of curiosity and perhaps malicious delight, and grabbed Jon’s chin, forcing him to look them straight in the Eyes.

“Don't worry Jon. Everyone wants a fresh start.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Jon noticed was the softness around him. He opened his eyes and found himself under a dark purple blanket, a book in hand and a flashlight next to him, still lit. The next thing he noticed was his hand. It was… small. Well yeah sure, his hands were always small, he had memories of Martin, Georgie, and Tim teasing him mercilessly about it, but they were even smaller than usual. Jon got out from his cave under the purple blankets and looked around. The room he was in looked strangely familiar, though Jon couldn't really tell why he felt that way. From his vantage point on the bed, he could see a desk, a closet, and a bookshelf next to the desk. He realized that he recognized it because it was the exact layout of his childhood bedroom, right down to the pile of books that sat in front of his bed. Thinking on this, Jon realized that he felt a little more… childlike. There was no ache in his bones, and he felt more rested than he had in… years. Wait. What had the Eye said? ‘A fresh start’.... Jon's heart rate increased by ten beats. That couldn't possibly mean- Jon threw off the blankets and looked at his body. He was wearing an oversized black T-shirt, and his legs were exposed because of that. Looking down at his legs, Jon felt his breath hitch. There were no scars on them, no holes anywhere to be seen other than a few scrapes on his knees. Jon jumped out of the bed, his heart pumping 20 times faster. He ran to the closet, looked into the mirror and… his eyes widened and he almost screamed. Just as he suspected, Jon was a child again. But not only that, he was a girl again.

He was wearing a very oversized black T-shirt that seemed to have the logo of a punk band on it, but it had long since faded away. He wore black framed glasses that were currently tilted on his face (probably because he was reading under his covers) and had wavy black hair that dripped over his shoulders and ended just above his waist, which was probably the only feature Jon liked about his old body. His tan skin had no holes in it, no scars on his neck, just no supernatural marks of pain anywhere. He did notice that a few things were different however, including a peppering of freckles on one of his legs, more specifically the one that had gotten bitten through by worms, (along with more freckles in places such as that) and his right hand strangely had a bit of vitiligo in the shape of a hand. Actually, he had a little more of it on his neck as well, in the spots where he had been so kindly threatened. He had even more vitiligo on the side of his arms, which he duly noted  were where Nikola had dragged her ‘skinning lines’ onto him. It seemed his hair was not saved from the change either, as a part of it that covered his face a bit was tinged a greyish-white.

Jon stood like that in front of the mirror for some time, mouth agape and eyes wide. Then, he came to his senses, and realized that if he was a child, that probably meant time actually mattered again, and began to pace around. “Wh- how did this happen?” he wondered aloud. He always thought better aloud, though he cringed hearing his voice. It was way too high, and way too girly. " Right, Jon thought pinching his nose bridge. Forgot about that.... Still, Jon pressed on. “I mean, I just got stabbed by Martin. We had no idea what would happen, other than we would stay together.” Jon’s voice cracked with grief when saying that. He cleared his throat to keep his composure. “But well… we saw how that turned out, didn't we?” he asked bitterly. He took a breath. “Anyways,” he began again, “I appeared in an apocalypse-like place? Maybe it was the Lonely or something?” Jon decided he didn't want to think too hard about it. “I walked around for a long time, thinking of memories until I became numb in every sense." He rambled on, looking down at the hardwood floor.  “Then- well skipping to the important part at least- the Eye- or that version of it- came and talked to me.

“They said that they didn't want me to just sit there crying for the rest of eternity, and that they wanted to do something for me before…'' Jon looked in the mirror. Only then did the obvious sink into place for Jon, as it usually did. Of course he was a kid again, and of course the Eye, a fear entity not understanding basic human things, saw that as "help". ‘A fresh start’ the Eye called it. Jon looked at himself in the mirror again, and even if it was the strangest situation he had gotten himself into (which was saying a lot) and even if he had no idea what the actual hell to do with it, he still found the strange urge to smile. He had a second chance. A fresh start. A new beginning. It filled him with the stupid feeling that was hope. Hope for a better future, hope for a new life.

But first, he had to figure out when he was. Jon remembered that he had a calendar beside his desk when he was younger, and walked over to his desk and sat on his knees on the chair in front of it. May 14th, 1995. Huh. So that meant Jon was 8 at the moment.  It was also the day he had read his first Leightner. That was… information, at least. Now, he just needed to figure out what time of day it was, to see if he had been marked by the web yet. Younger Jon did not seem to have a clock in his room, so Jon turned to the next thing he could think of. He turned to the door in his mind expectantly, feeling the press of the ocean of Knowledge behind it, when he realized two things. For one, the door was yet again closed somehow, as it was before he killed Elias and took his place, when the door had flooded open giving him all know-ing all powerful knowledge- Jon took a quick breath to focus himself. And second, he realized that he probably wouldn't even be able to use his connections to the Eye here, since Gertrude was still the archivist now. Wow, that was a thought. Gertrude was still moving around and stopping rituals, bullet free and still scaring the crap out of Elias. Now that he thought about it, lots of people were probably still alive other than his friends. Hell, Gerard was most likely still a kid getting manipulated out of his life by Mary Keay, becoming bound to collect Leightners for the rest of his life.

But Jon was getting distracted. He needed to focus on the task at hand, or he wouldn't ever get anywhere further than the house he found himself in. He tapped on the door very timidly, just to see if anything would happen. Nothing seemed to change with the door or his knowledge about his situation, so he gave a little push, a reach to his past powers. The change was almost immediate. Jon, in a fraction of a second, got a splitting migraine and barely noticed that the room around him glowed green, before closing his eyes hard and laying on his bed again. After a few moments of splitting pain, Jon opened his eyes again and rubbed his temple. “Never try that again. Noted," he muttered to himself. Well, his theory about Gertrude had proved to be right. It was starting to seem as if the Eye hadn't really thought this through, if Jon was honest. So, time. Jon looked to the door of his room. He had seen outside the window and knew that it was dark outside, but wasn't sure if it was the early morning or late night. Jon decided that the best course of action was to first check if his Nani was awake before he went outside, so that he could avoid questioning from her, at least at the moment. Until he got a proper lie set up. If he could get a lie set up. If he could even lie. Jusst focus Jonnn, he thought to himself, droning. For at least 10 minutesss, he pleaded to his own mind. He put his ear to the door and heard no movement outside of it. He quietly opened the door, moving the handle as far as it could go so that the latch wasn't in the frame anymore, and opening it up just enough so he could slip through, as it was an old house and he didn't want the door creaking and waking up his Nani. He walked down the hallway and tried to remember which door was the closet and which door was the kitchen. I think it was… this one? Jon thought, sticking out his hand to the second door's doorknob. It was only after he grabbed the doorknob and opened the second door, that he heard the loudest creaking noise ever and knew it was the closet. CRAPP, Jon thought, taking a sharp breath through his teeth. His Nani was a soft sleeper. He remembered all the times he had gone to the kitchen as a child after a nightmare and she would come downstairs to make him a cup of warm apple cider- one of his favorite childhood drinks. “Juliana? Is that you?” he heard his Nani ask from upstairs. Jon winced a little at hearing his Nani’s voice, and also from hearing his deadname being spoken for the first time in - God knows how long. “Yes Nani!” Jon called back. He turned around and saw his Nani coming down the stairs, in her vintage nightgown and her fluffy slippers, and felt a pang of sadness hit him. “Why are you up this late, Juliana?” she scolded Jon with a tired glare. “S-sorry Nani. I um… I had another nightmare," he stammered.

“Another one?” she asked exasperatedly. Jon looked to the floor and grabbed his sleeve. His Nani just sighed. “It's fine, Jules,” she sighed. “It's not your fault. Here, I'll make you some cider.”

“Thank you.” Jon said gratefully. His Nani smiled and put her hand on Jon’s shoulder, making him flinch. She gave Jon a confused look, but just ended up smiling weakly at him. They walked into the kitchen and while Jon sat at the table, his Nani began heating up some apple cider for him. Jon smiled sadly at his Nani. He had forgotten all these small times he had shared with her. It felt like it had been eons since he had felt truly relaxed. " Wait. What did I come down here for- oh". “What time is it?” Jon asked, swinging his feet at the table. His Nani was making tea for herself and the kettle bubbled on the stove. “It's about 9 PM,” she said. “Why?” Jon’s heart sank a little, but he figured his luck would be about that good. He had already been marked, but now he knew what that meant, and what he needed to do from here. “Just wondering,” he replied. He didn't have much of a plan, but if he couldn't stop himself from becoming the Archivist, he could at least stop everyone else from getting hurt. After all, self destruction was second nature to him. This was not the first, nor the last thing he was going to do, or plan, to hurt himself, and Jon didn't really mind that fact. He knew what Martin would have said about that. “Jon!” he would have scolded. “Just because you think you ruined everything, doesn't mean you should just throw yourself into danger! You can't imagine what that would do to me.” Jon at this point would crack and pepper Martin in kisses, while Martin tried, and failed, to stay on task and lecture him.

Jon felt a warm liquid fall down his cheeks and realized he was crying. Soon a cup of warm apple cider was set in front of him and a hand was placed on his shoulder. Jon flinched once again but quickly untensed his muscles. “Are you ok Jules?” Jon's Nani asked softly. “Y-yeah. I'm ok." Jon lied, wiping tears from his face. He gave his Nani a weak smile, but she still looked worried. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” she asked quietly. Jon shook his head. He couldn't think of any good lies for a nightmare at the moment, and needed to save his creativity for fabricating lies about things he would most likely need to do to make his plans work. Whatever those plans would be. “Alright then,” she said, rubbing Jon’s back in small circles. ‘I'm sorry I woke you up,” Jon muttered to her, looking down at the golden color of his cider. The steam from it fogged up his glasses a bit, but Jon didn't mind. “Oh- Jules, it's fine,” she said, a little bit confused with Jon’s demeanor, which probably made sense. He remembered being a very difficult child. ”After all, you can't really control your dreams.'' Jon nodded, but still couldn't help but feel guilty anyways.

“I think I'm ok now,” Jon said after a few minutes, after they had both drained their drinks and shared a comfortable silence and solitude. “Alright then," his Nani said. They both placed their cups in the sink and his Nani put the kettle away. “Don't stay up late reading again Jules,” she lightly scolded him as she brought him to his room. “Yes Nani,” Jon said with a small smile. It felt nice to be able to see her again, to be with one of the few people who granted him a bit of comfort. Jon shook his head and scowled. He shouldn't be getting comfortable- he can't rely on his grandmother this time around. He may be in the body of a child, but he didn't have the brain nor the goals of one, and needed to act like it. He needed to act on it. Jon wandered over to his desk and grabbed one of the many notebooks he had under it. He grabbed a pencil and stared at the blank page in front of him. Then, after a little bit of contemplating, Jon took a breath and began to write. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Jon wrote was his goals for this new chance he had. Kill Elias if possible. This one explained itself. If he had even the smallest chance to kill Elias- or should he say Jonah- he would take it, no matter what. Second was Save Michael Shelly, which went along with save Gerry Keay- (later operation?) Those two were also pretty straightforward, but the Gerard one would take some contemplating. He could try saving him from a life of Leightners, which was ideal, but would be extremely hard and dangerous given his situation, especially since Mary Keay had all of those said Leightners on her side. Or, he could instead leave it for later and warn Gerry about his brain tumor before it became life threatening - maybe convince him to get treatment for it before it killed him. Saving Micheal would probably be hard as well, as he wasn't sure how to convince Gertrude to not sacrifice him to the spiral’s ritual. The next two were more personal. The first one was: get set up with T as fast as possible. It made sense, as he wanted his body to represent who he actually was, so he wanted to start taking testosterone as fast as he could. Luckily, he knew how everything worked this time, and wouldn't have to do a bunch of research again. However, until he could get what he needed, he would have to live as a girl for a while. Hm. That was an annoyance. The second was: save the assistants. It was a bit far-fetched, Jon had to admit, even if he was stubborn about admitting it, but he was determined to save them. Save them all. The next goal was more immediate. Warn Gertrude about Elias and the other things. This would be important no matter what happened. Gertrude was a much better archivist than he was, and the quicker he could get his past information to her- maybe in a statement?- the faster she could put a stop to Elias. Did Jon desperately want to kill Elias again so that he could watch that smug look on his face fade again? Yes. he wanted it more than almost anything. But Jon would do it recklessly, he was sure of it. Gertrude would be able to do it efficiently, as she was more experienced with murder. 

Looking at his list of goals, it seemed erratic and disorganized, so he tore out the page and began a new one. He titled it Important Goals . The first one obviously needed to be explaining to Gertrude… everything he could. Everything vital for her to know. He was about to write the second, but stopped and wrote a note next to the first one. [If not believed..??? Attempt to kill Elias by self] . Yeah. that covered his bases, at least for now. If she didn't listen… no. Jon didn't want to think about that at the moment. He would just have to hope for the best for now. Save Michael Shelly was second. His death was the closest in this timeline, so it was an important thing to worry about, especially if he had extra time to help him. The next goal was like the last: save Gerard Keay. he had never gotten the chance to get close to Gerry in the previous timeline, but he liked the man, and did not want him being bound to a skin book until someone decided to burn his page. Maybe, if he was lucky, Jon might get to interact with him for a while. Gerry’s life was already pretty fucked up, so interacting with him would probably be easier, as Gerry could overlook Jon’s recklessness of ruining innocent lives - 

-Other innocents you hurt, out of curiosity out of hunger out of selfishness you idiot you did hurt everyone you made everything bad and you’ll only do it again you idiot stupid stupid stupid STUPID- 

-Jon took a very sharp breath and moved back in his chair a bit. His heart was beating faster than usual and he shuddered, feeling shaken. Jon shook his head and moved closer to the desk again. He couldn't feel bad for himself right now. He had to plan, had to be prepared for this second chance he had been given, even if it was given to him by the Eye because they got bored… nope, he didn't want to ponder that. Not now. The next goal was, of course, save the archival assistants. He would have put this goal higher up on the list, but this one was going to take lots of planning and would be many, many years in the future. Jon looked at his list, simple, yet overwhelming him with guilt and stress. That didn't matter. His feelings didn't matter at the moment. He took a breath. " I’ll deal with it in the morning. I'm in a human body now, so I should probably sleep", Jon thought to himself, taking off his glasses. Still, he did not move from his space at the desk. Jon didn't want to sleep. He wanted to work. He wanted to figure out what he should do about his current situation. He wanted to storm up to Elias’ office and drive a knife through his heart. Jon wanted to do anything but sleep. 

His stupid human body found itself in the fluffy bed in his room, slowly lulling off to sleep. 

Jon glared at his computer. He was yet again trying to record a statement, but this one was pesky. He heaved a big sigh and took off his glasses to put his face in his hands. He heard a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he said wearily. Tim poked his head in and grinned. “Hey bossman!” he exclaimed. “We came in to ask you if you wanted to go out for lunch.” Jon paused to think for a moment. He wanted to continue working, but going out with Tim and the others seemed so inviting at the moment. Jon took a breath and got up from his desk. “I’ll get my coat,” he said simply. Tim’s grin expanded. “Great! We’ll be just outside.” Tim went back outside and Jon allowed himself a smile. He would never admit it, but Jon did love his assistants. Although annoying, he really did. 

[Even Martin, but he’d kill you if you said that.] 

Jon woke up with a jolt. He sat up, his heart beating. Where was he? What was going on? Where was the screaming where was- Jon then remembered last night, and what had happened before that, and he settled down, his shoulders un-tensing a bit. Right. He was a 8 year old female child again. Splendid. 

Jon slipped out of his bed and walked to his closet. The only clothes he had were hand-me-downs or cheap Goodwill clothing, but Jon didn't mind. It wasn't like his grandmother had really wanted him anyway. He chose the clothes that looked most like the ones he wore when he was in the archives. Jon walked down the stairs and saw that it was six in the morning, so he decided to return to his room and use this extra free time to plan. How to approach Gertrude, how he should save Gerry, wondering about the institute and if he should help any of the statement givers, really everything he could think of to worry about, which (for Jon and his anxiety) was extremely easy. At some point, his grandmother came in to check on him. “Jules?” she asked, walking into Jon's room. Jon flinched and looked at her. “Ah- yes Nani?” he asked, stopping his pacing to look at her. “I was just checking on you,” she responded. “You've been up here for a while. You have this entire week off because of spring break.” Jon nodded at her, feeling slightly relieved. This means he had the entire week to plan and adjust to the world around him. “Yeah. sorry Nani." His grandmother paused, but nodded at him. “Would you like some lunch?” she asked. Jon opened up his mouth to talk, but closed it again while he considered. “Yes. Thank you," he finally decided. His empty stomach had been screaming at him while he had been pacing and muttering. “I’ll call you down when it's ready,” she responded. Jon remembered that in his past, before he was preoccupied with thoughts of his dead assistants and feelings of helplessness, interactions like this between him and his grandmother were common. A plain agreement, a truce to not bother one if the other didn't bother them. His grandmother provided for him, but she made it seem like she was asking a roommate if they wanted takeout with her, rather than interacting with her grandchild. It made him feel good in some weird way though. Maybe it was just nostalgia, but he didn't feel ignored or unloved by her. It was just how their dynamic worked. There was nothing else to it. 

And so, the week continued on like this. Sometimes Jon’s Nani would ask him if he wanted to go to the bookstore, and sometimes he would go, and other times he would decline. Their interactions were luckily quick and muted, as Jon wasn't sure if he would be able to stop himself from rambling at the moment. There were so many thoughts crowding his mind, all begging to be looked at or spoken or taken into consideration, and sometimes it would overwhelm him to the point he would just blank for a long while, before his Nani came in to check on him. If she wasn't there, he might have just faded whenever he got to that place. But although he was doing well inconspicuous-wise, he was not doing well on planning anything. He was unsure how he, an eight year old girl, would be able to convince Gertrude of all of these very far-fetched things, even if a part of her believed it. He also wasn't sure how they would interact with each other, as Jon still seemed to be connected to the Eye, and it might hurt them both if they connected. He didn't know if she would look at a statement he submitted either. So, at least for the time being, he figured he should stay far, far away from the archives, continuing to try and make a plan from afar, without entering Elias’ playing ground. 

Jon was four days in when the hunger hit. 

Jon had tried to ignore it as best as he could, really he had. He was in the middle of trying to decide when he should try to save Gerry, (a problem he had been pondering for a few hours now) when he suddenly felt an all too familiar sensation hit. A sudden craving for Fear, for Knowledge, the craving to Know someone’s trauma and pain. Jon tried to not give it any attention, but soon thoughts of his hunger were crowding his mind. Jon didn't understand why he was feeling this. He thought he was a human again- he shouldn't need a statement now! But then again, he was sent back in time by the Eye of all things, so it made sense he might still be connected to them, even if he didn't seem to have any of the benefits. He didn't want to eat someone's trauma. He really didn't. But fear was swarming his thoughts, as he remembered a time in the past where he had tried to ignore his hunger and it did not turn out well. (Daisy had found him on the floor of his office, curled up into a ball and whimpering in pain, and he didn't stop until she gave him a statement). Since Jon was not keen on experiencing that again, he ended up caving in and allowing himself options. One: go outside and ask someone for their statement. This was not ideal, as Jon didn't want to hurt anyone this time around. Alright so two: ignore the hunger and power through it. Well, that wasn't going to work, as… he was kind of doing this list for a reason. And three: go to the institute for a statement. Jon pursed his lips as he thought of that last option. He did not want to go to the institute at all. It was not a good idea. 

Then again, Jon was quite literally the king of bad ideas. 

That's how Jon found himself choosing the most comfortable clothes he could. He decided to wear a slightly oversized band shirt he had, along with some jeans he grabbed. Jon was originally going to go to the institute by himself, but stopped. He might draw more attention to himself if he did not have a caretaker with him on the bus, and he also did not want his Nani calling the police if she found out he was gone. So, with regret in his sigh and anxiety in his bones, [*cough* as always *cough*] Jon reluctantly walked over to his grandmother, who was reading a book in the sunroom. She looked up at him, a little confused, as he hadn't been approaching her these past few weeks, it had only been the other way around. “Oh- yes Jules?” she asked, putting a bookmark in her book. “Can we go to a bookshop?” Jon had remembered there was a bookshop near the institute, and he figured if they were to go there, it would be a good cover and distraction. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will. “Oh- well, where did you have in mind?” she questioned, putting down her book. “The Looking Leathers,” he answered. Jon paused for a quick moment, realizing that the name was very ironic, probably the Eye’s specific doing, if he was honest. He shook his head and looked back at his Nani. "Oh? Alright then. Just a minute." she said, getting up and heading out of the sunroom. Jon stood there, looking around. He had been so caught up with his own thoughts and plans, he had forgotten about his old childhood home. The sunroom didn't really live up to its name, because of the rainy weather in London, but it was a nice place to read or just stay and sit. It had two couches in it, along with some plants and side tables. It also had an ottoman in the center of the room, on top of a vintage carpet. The pattern on it was sort of mesmerizing, as most older patterns seemed to be. 

Twisting, turning, interlocking - the table did that too, didn't it? The one that held her- held it - the one that tricked you so easily, the one that took her so quickly and you didn't even notice - you were always a bad friend- no, a bad person - you are a terrible person you idiot- 

Jon decided that the windows looked nicer than the carpet. 

After a few minutes of waiting, his anxiety and hunger getting worse by the moment, his Nani finally came back and took him out to drive to the bookstore. Jon felt the hair on his neck rise as they approached the archives, feeling the dread that he was being watched, even if the dread was familiar- even comforting. Jon shook away that thought. Unless he really had to, he wanted to keep as human as he could for as long as possible. Sure, he might never be completely human again, as the Eye had been the one who brought him back, and it probably would want to keep a tight grip on him, but he was close enough right now. He wanted to keep that feeling as long as he could. They pulled into one of the parking spots for the Looking Leathers bookshop, and Jon and his Nani exited the car to go inside. Opening the door, the place was overflowing with books. The shelves were filled from top to bottom, with moving ladders laid across them. Jon raised his eyebrows at the setup. Perhaps, later, he would have to look around this bookshop, as it had a very nice variety. His Nani seemed impressed as well. “Meet me back here in 20 minutes,” she instructed Jon, as usual. Without another word, she went off to one of the giant bookshelves and disappeared into the shop. 

Jon nodded and looked around for a few moments, making sure that nobody was looking at him, and slipped out of the shop, staring at the institute. He took a giant breath. He did not want to do this. He regretted everything he had done to get here. But the hunger was screaming in his ears, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. And so, Jon began to walk over to the institute, regretting every step he took, though that was nothing new. 

Chapter Text

Jon stared at the doors of the Institute. Did he really need to do this? Should he do this? Maybe the hunger was just fogging his brain. I mean, he couldn't be that hungry, ri - Jon lurched over in pain, startling a few people passing by. Well, Jon thought. Guess that answers my question. Still, looking at the doors of that damned Institute made him feel squeamish, and it wasn't just because of the feeling of Eyes on him. He really hoped it wasn't Elias’ Eyes - oh. Crap. Elias. He had forgotten about that…’obstacle’. Jon glared at the Institute, but it was half-hearted. Eventually, he sighed and got up. He had come here for a reason, and he was going to have to follow through with it. Jon sucked up his pride, and walked into the building. As soon as he got inside, Jon slinked over to the wall of the lobby, making sure that Rosie wouldn't notice him walking to the Archives. He stared at the back wall of the institute, which had a slope that led to the basement that was the Archives. His hellscape home. Jon decided that the best way to get over to the tall bookshelves to hide himself was just to act as if he was supposed to be there. Jon knew how much a person could ignore something if they deemed the thing unimportant to themselves or their situation. A kid trying to sneak their way around a fear institute? That bothers me, I could lose my job. A kid walking around a fear institute like they're supposed to be there? Yeah, that seems about right, as long as they don't bother me.

So, that’s exactly what he did, striding over to the bookshelves with the straight and proud posture his Nani had taught him from childhood to teenhood. Hell, a library worker even waved at him mindlessly, to which he just nodded. Jon only realized he was holding his breath once he made it to the corner of the bookshelves, letting out a huff, along with about two-percent of his anxiety. Which, because he was in the temple of a literal fear god, was immediately replaced with more terror as he realized oh my god he was back at the archives what was he doing here why did he come here he's going to get KILLED - Jon was only pulled out of his spiraling by voices coming up from the Archives. “Where do you want to go out for lunch?” a female voice asked. Jon ducked behind the bookshelf closest to him. “There’s this cafe across the road that we could try if you'd like.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds nice!” a male voice responded. Jon paused. That voice… that voice was familiar. Jon, with his hunger clouded mind, peeked out with curiosity from behind the bookshelf where he was hiding. Walking out of the Archives was a pair of assistants. One was a girl, with a brown bob cut, wearing a white collared shirt with a long brown skirt. And the male voice - Jon took a sharp breath and hid behind the bookshelf again. It was a man with shoulder length blonde hair, with circle framed glasses. He was pretty tall, and he wore a kind, yet shy smile. He was a man that Jon had never known, but who had threatened to kill him all the same. Michael Shelly.

“Did… did you hear that?” Jon heard Michael ask. He held his breath. “Hear what?” the girl questioned. “I...nevermind. It was probably nothing,” Michael decided. Jon waited for a few moments after he heard Michael and the other girl's voice and footsteps recede, and then remembered to breathe and let out a sigh. Right. Jon did technically remember that Michael Shelly was still alive, but that wasn't the same as seeing it. Seeing him. Well, Jon thought, rubbing his temple, I better get used to it. He looked over to see if anyone else was coming out of the Archive, then made a break for it. Jon chose to ignore the Eyes that sharpened their gaze on him. He chose to ignore his heart beating in his ears. He didn’t stop running until he got to the assistant's bullpen and hid under one of the desks there, just for a bit of comfort. The Eyes gaze, of course, did not lessen, but it did give him a moment to breathe. Before realizing how claustrophobic the space under the desk was. Of course. Jon closed his eyes to try and ignore the walls pressing around him. Why couldn’t there be a better place to hide? He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Now, where is… the space around Jon began to glow a neon green. There are fifteen different statements on the desk above you. Four are important. The others are not. Jon took a sharp intake of air. His eye had a sharp pain spike through it, but it stopped quickly. Alright then, Jon thought, rubbing his eye. Eleven statements should last him quite a while. Perhaps if he took an important one he would last a lot longer...no. He shouldn’t risk it. That would be… dangerous to say the least. After peeking out and seeing that Gertrude was still in her office, (SHIT GERTRUDE I FORGOT ABOUT HER) he grabbed the edge of the desk above him and pulled himself into a crouch.

There were multiple pieces of paper scattered about the desk, but there was a small pile of statements in one corner. Jon looked around at the papers, and decided to let himself run on autopilot and grab whichever statements drew him in. After deciding he had grabbed enough statements to hopefully last him several months, he ducked back under the table just as he heard Gertrude’s door open. “Dammed Elias…the man can’t do anything for himself. I swear, his tactic to end the world is going to be begging me to do it…” she muttered angrily. Jon pursed his lips to keep himself from snickering. [laugh through the pain, my friend, laugh through the pain...] Jon waited until Gertrude's muttering and angry footsteps faded away, and went back into a crouch. Thank the Gods that she was distracted, because if she wasn’t…well, Jon wasn’t exactly sure how he would explain why he, an eight year old child, was hiding under her worker's desk with statements she might want to study. Jon eyed the statements hungrily, but made himself wait a little longer. He was lucky to last this long in the Archives - he did not want to risk any longer. Jon peeked out from the desk one last time, and made yet another run for his life.

Jon ended up having to hide in the library of the Archives one last time. This whole encounter had lasted way too long, in Jon’s opinion. He was tired, hungry, and still slightly terrified. [*COUGH* PER USUAL *COUGH*] Jon was trying very hard to ignore the trail of tape recorders that were following him. *click* Jon sighed in frustration. “I know!” he hissed at the tape. “Wait a few damn seconds! Christ…” Jon rubbed his temple and tried to focus. All he needed was to get out of the Institute. Just walk through a door. That's all he had to do. Jon stood up and fixed his posture yet again. He strode confidently out of the Institute, yet again acting as if he was supposed to be there. Jon opened the doors and took a deep breath of the smell of rain and lightning forming in the sky of London. He was finally finished. He was out of that terror-causing building, and could get back to - Jon flinched hard as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He whipped around and stared at the man who had touched him. And of course, when he turned around, he locked eyes with Elias Bouchard.

Jon froze, staring directly into the damned eyes of his one mortal enemy. “Hello there…child,” Elias greeted him, not taking his hand off of Jon's shoulder. “Might I ask why you have taken those statements from my Institu-” Jon couldn’t deal with this right now. He was tired, hungry, scared, and quite frankly, tired of being scared. So, he did the normal thing a tired, stressed out child like himself would do. He bit Elias’ hand. Elias was apparently not expecting this, and yelped while pulling his hand away. Jon felt a bit of satisfaction as he tasted blood on his tongue, before he [ONCE AGAIN] ran for his dear life.

His headache was only getting worse. His stomach was hurting as much as his head. Yet he STILL COULDN’T HAVE HIS STATEMENT YET because SOMEBODY decided that he wanted to show his UGLY FACE around Jon AGAIN. Or, to translate Jon’s angry thoughts, Jon still could not have his statement after he ran into the Looking Leathers to find his grandmother. One, because he couldn’t read it in case a passerby saw and decided to question him, but more importantly, two, because there was an Avatar of the Eye named Jonah Magnus hot on his trail, and he did not feel like being questioned by anyone at the moment, let alone him. After running into the Looking Leathers, Jon saw his Nani coming out from one of the rows of bookshelves. Jon made a last, split-second decision and grabbed a few books, just to seem like he had been shopping. The top of the stack of books was “This Is Definitely NOT a Fairytale”, written by a woman by the name of Lucy Raven. Jon shoved the statements he had taken into the book. As his Nani walked toward him, she looked at his stack of books. She sighed, but didn’t say anything. “Is that all?” she asked. Jon nodded, expecting her to tell him to put a few books back. Surprisingly, she did not. Instead, she brought him over to the cashier and set hers and his books on the counter. “These please.” she said to the person behind the counter. They had reddish-brown, curly hair, shaven in a kind of very poofy pixie cut. They picked up the books and smirked at the ones in Jon’s pile. “These are some good books, kid,” they said, looking down at Jon. “All hail the glow cloud!” they said with a wink, bagging all of the books. They gave the bag to Jon’s grandmother, who gave them and Jon a confused look. Jon just shrugged at her. The cashier's face fell a small bit. “Ah the pilot's long. You’ll get there eventually.” They nodded to Jon’s grandmother. “Have a nice day!”

Once Jon and his grandmother finally got home, he said his quick thanks and grabbed his books, running upstairs. Jon was very close to hurting somebody, so the moment he brought out the statement and heard the click of a tape recorder, the words were already falling out of his mouth. It was a fine statement, this one being about the dark. The girl’s fear from the statement satiated Jon’s hunger well, which was good, as if he still had that empty hunger like he used to when he was the Archivist… just thinking about it made Jon shudder. After finishing, Jon took a wary look at the tape recorder next to him. “So, you guys are back, huh?” he asked the recorder. “I'm not sure why I'm even surprised anymore," he said bitterly. He reached over and pressed ‘stop’ on the recorder. There was silence in Jon’s room then, except for the rain pounding on his window. It was a little too quiet for his liking. So, against his better judgment, Jon decided to look at the random books he had grabbed. The first one, the one that he had shoved the statements in, was of course "This Is Definitely Not a Fairytale", by Lucy Raven, which was evidently a series collaboration with Micheal Royal. Speaking of Micheal Royal, Jon had evidently grabbed multiple books from that author. One was a mystery book titled "A Royal Mystery", along with their part of the series collaboration book, "The Villain's End". They had one last one too, called "Evan Hanson". There was another, last book in his stack simply titled "The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home", which was… an interesting title, to say the least. Jon, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts, not after eating/reading a statement, decided to begin reading one of the books.

"Once upon a time, a thief sat at her camp with her stolen loot."

Chapter Text

Jon laid on his bed, once again regretting and wondering. It had only been a day since his little escapade into the institute, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about it. I mean, Jonah had seen him taking those statements, even had the bite mark to prove it. But Jonah wouldn’t go looking for a child, right? Then again, Jonah was the man who forced everyone who disagreed with him into their worst memories, and the man who literally caused the end of the world, so Jon wasn’t too keen on relying on Jonah's moral code for his own safety. Then again, Jonah had never been fazed if a small thing happened to his plans, or some unimportant soul died to get Jon marked, so maybe he would just ignore Jon this time around. Ignore the strange child who ran into his archives to take eleven statements. The one who bit him on sight as if he was an old enemy. Jon pursed his lips. He really was not in his right mind then, was he. Jon wasn’t sure whether he should focus on figuring out what he should do about Elias or whether he should worry about, well… everything else. He was tired of thinking in general. He had been getting barely anywhere in his progress, and was now basically thinking himself into a spiral. If Jon laid out his thought process and habits onto a piece of paper, it probably would have qualified as a severe statement of fear in general. Not even specifically the stranger or anything- just all of the fears' bad parts thrown into a pot and forced into a human being. (Which- I suppose was just what Jon always really was). 

“J-Jules?” Jon heard his Nani call from downstairs. “Could you come here right now please?” Her voice sounded shaky and- confused, maybe? “I- um- sure? Yeah- just a moment.” Jon sat up from his bed and walked to the door. Before he opened it however, Jon made a quick decision to grab a heavy book. He had spent his entire last life not prepared, he could at least have this small attempt at safety. He didn’t like the way his Nani’s voice was trembling, when she usually forced herself to be strict in front of Jon all the time. Jon poked his head into the kitchen, looking for his grandmother and any potential danger. Sitting there was a woman that he did not recognize. She had dark brown hair and a thick figure, with rosy cheeks and glasses. “Hello there Jules!” she said sweetly. “I’m here to ask you a few quick questions, ok?” Jon looked to his Nani. She pursed her lips and looked at the floor. “Nani?” Jon asked, “What is this about?” His Nani did not say anything, but he could see that she was holding back… were those tears? “Come with me, Jules,” the woman said, holding out her hand. Jon looked at his Nani. He did not want to leave his Nani alone. He did not want to go with this strange woman. But alas, a few moments later, he was sitting in front of the strange woman, who was now holding a clipboard. 

Once they were alone, the woman began to ask him questions. “Alright then, Jules. How are you today?” she asked with a strange sweet smile. Jon just stared at her with a perfectly numb look. A million questions were flooding through his head, but he didn't show it. He had forced himself into practising doing that many times before, once Basira had come. She hated it when he asked any question on accident. They sat there for a moment, just staring at each other awkwardly. The woman ended up being the one to back down, clearing her throat and looking away. “Alright then. We’ll just get right into it," she decided, sounding slightly exasperated. “So, first question Jules-” 

“ Jon. ” 

The woman gave him a surprised look. “W-what?” Jon couldn't help it. He would let his Nani call him Jules if he had to, but anyone else was not allowed to. “Call me Jon," he repeated, looking up at the woman. There was a small moment of silence between the two of them. “Alright then…Jon,” she said, looking at him a little confused. “First question - what punishments does your grandmother usually use when you’ve broken the rules?” Jon paused. He still had yet to figure out what was going on with this whole… ordeal, and he didn’t like the tone of questioning. Something about it felt…off. He wasn’t sure what - he just felt extremely iffy about this whole thing. However, Jon was still connected to the Eye in some way, and he was still a creature of truth, so he answered each and every one of the questions asked based on his childhood memories. 

Jon, oh so idiotic Jon, only realised what had felt off on the last question. “I think we’re almost finished here Ju- …Jon. Last question.” The woman looked up from her clipboard to him. “Has your grandmother ever physically hurt you?” Jon’s eyes widened. What kind of question was this? And why did this woman want an answer? “What is this for?” Jon asked yet again, as he had multiple times throughout this interrogation. The woman looked slightly annoyed at being asked the same question over and over again. “If I answer you, will you answer the question?” Jon nodded reluctantly. The woman sighed. “This is for a group called CPS that is here to help you. We just wanted to check in on how you and your grandmother were doing.” 

Jon felt like an absolute idiot. He wanted to smack himself in the face. Of course that’s what was going on. Just Jon's luck. It was a freaking check in from CHILDCARE PROTECTIVE SERVICES. The ONE time he doesn’t need them, they arrive. “Now will you please answer the question?” the woman pleaded. “No.” Jon said suddenly, his heart beating a little faster. “My Nani takes amazing care of me, even if she didn't want me to take care of in the first place - she still cares about me!” Jon insisted, standing up quickly. The woman looked skeptical of him, but stood up, looking like she had decided. “Don’t worry Jon. We’ll be handling everything for you and your grandmother,” the woman assured Jon. Jon began to protest, but the woman had already gone into the kitchen where his Nani was. Jon fell back into the chair he was sitting in. …fuck. 

Jon laid in his bed. Just…laying there. Inside though, he was both screaming in confusion and repeatedly calling himself an idiot. He didn't know what was going on downstairs. There was a lot of talking, but Jon- in his current thought process- could barely think in coherent sentences, much less understand them. Jon covered his face as he starfished in his bed. He hated this. He hated feeling like this. He hated… feelings , in general quite frankly. Jon remembered vaguely that he and Martin had to do a lot of work to try and reverse that mindset that Jon had forced himself into. Then he read that statement, and all of their hard work had just gone down the drain… Jon rolled onto his side and groaned. Why does this have to be my life? he thought, opening his eyes to stare at the dark purple blankets. He dug his fingers into them, feeling his nails make imprints in his palms. He just wanted to rest. Not just sleep, lay down, or just think, he wanted to properly rest. He had never gotten a true rest in his life. Just… in general. There was always a nightmare, or something to do, or guilt, or he couldn’t sleep - there was always something that ruined his moments of rest. Jon pulled his legs into his stomach and sighed, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the world. Trying to ignore his life. 

There was a knock at Jon’s door. Jon glared half-heartedly at it. “Jules?” the voice of the woman asked. Jon sighed, annoyed, and got up to open it. “He-” she began to greet him, but Jon cut her off. “I said Jon please,” Jon said, exasperated. The woman looked quite surprised by Jon’s demanding attitude, but gave him a kind look nonetheless. “Jon. Right,” she repeated, smiling slightly down at him. “Now Jon, do you have a bag anywhere?” she asked, keeling down to get on his level. “Yes,” Jon timidly confirmed. There was a sage backpack underneath his bed. He remembered having that as a child. “Why?” The woman smiled. “Could you pack up your favourite things in that, please?” Jon’s eyes widened. “Why?" he asked again, staring at the woman. “Please, Jon?” Jon backed away a little bit. “What’s going on?” he interrogated. The woman smiled sweetly. “We’ll explain everything once you finish packing,” she promised. Jon shook his head. “I want to talk to my Nani,” he insisted. “And you will!” the woman nodded, “just after you finish packing up.” Jon opened his mouth to argue, but he stopped. He realized that, because he was a child, arguing with this lady would do nothing. So, reluctantly, he nodded at the woman and backed away into his room, going to search for the backpack under his bed. 

Jon carried the sage backpack downstairs into the kitchen. It had a few different books in it, including the fiction ones he had gotten yesterday. He had also put the statements carefully in the back pocket of the backpack. He had drawn blood, and perhaps gotten some unwanted attention for those god-forsaken statements, so he was going to take care of them. Jon walked into the kitchen and saw that apparently some other people had joined the woman. The majority of the group seemed to be questioning his Nani, who looked like she had been.. crying? Jon stared at his grandmother in surprise. She had never cried in front of him, much less for him. God, he had really messed up this time, hadn’t he? “What’s going on?” Jon demanded. A few of the people who were looking around the house looked over at Jon. One looked at the woman and asked, “Is that the kid?” Another person next to him elbowed him in the ribs. “Well duh!” they hissed. The girl looked over at him before approaching. “Hi kid. My name is Catlynn. Over there is Simon, and the woman you were talking to is Charlotte,” she said with a small smile. Simon waved at Jon. “Sup, kiddo!” Catlynn had a polite strained look on her face. “Ignore Simon as best as you can,” Catlynn instructed Jon. “What’s going on?” Jon repeated insistently. “Well…” Catlynn spared a look at Charlotte, who nodded at her. Catlynn turned her attention to Jon yet again, looking… worried? Pitying? Perhaps it was a mix of both. Jon couldn’t tell. “Come sit with me. I feel like it would be more comfortable for the both of us.” 

Jon hopped onto the chair opposite Catlynn, both of them looking at each other in a weird sort of stare off. Catlynn took a breath. “So… can you tell me what you already know, or do you want me to tell you everything?” she asked, surprisingly casual. Jon paused, a little surprised at how she was treating him like an equal. “Uh, well, I already know that CPS came to ‘check up’ on me and my Nani for some reason,” Jon said in quotes, “But I don't know much else.” Catlynn pursed her lips. “Well.. you're not completely wrong. CPS got a tip that your grandmother might be a bad parent for you, so they came to check it out today. And, well…” she took a guilty glimpse to the side. “They think it’d be best for you and your grandmother if you went into the care of someone else for a while.” Jon stared at her with wide eyes. “And how long is this ‘while’?!” Jon asked, getting more and more agitated by the second. The girl took a breath through her teeth. “Maybe until you're eighteen?” she said sheepishly, forming it into a bit of a question. Jon stared at her in disbelief. “What?!” Catlynn forced herself to look Jon in the eyes. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” she started, but Jon was barely listening. Jon just shook his head mindlessly, staring at the table. He had messed up this time. Had really messed up this time. Really, really, really messed up. 

 Jon got to choose who he wanted to drive him to his new home. He landed on Catlynn, as she seemed the most keen to treat him as an equal. Also, he didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, and Charlotte seemed like she had the opposite inclination. As they drove, Jon stared out the window, feeling numb. He didn’t know why he felt like that. He hated it. His feelings didn’t matter- why couldn’t he control them? Jon bit the inside of his mouth, closing his eyes. He wished he was an actual child rather than what he was now. He wished he wasn’t such a prick to all of his archival assistants last time. He wished he wasn’t like this. “Are you alright?” Catlynn asked, glancing over. “I mean, I know you aren’t really alright with everything going on, but I mean just like- maybe physically?” she rambled on. “Do you feel sick?” Jon looked over at her. “Erm…I think I’m good.” Catlynn glanced back at him. “You hungry?” she asked. Jon began to say no, but his stomach betrayed him. He felt his face heat up. Catlynn snickered and nodded. “Let's take care of that, then,” she smiled at Jon. So, a few moments later, they were eating some fast food Catlynn had bought, and driving back down the road. “Oh! I never really got your name,” Catlynn realised, looking over at Jon. “I will need to introduce you to your foster parent.” 

“Jonathan Sims. Jon for short," he introduced himself. She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Jon,” she said with a smile. “I think we’re here!” she said, pulling the car over and stopping. She looked at Jon. “Are you ready?” Jon studied the house. It was a big modern house that looked like it had two stories. The wood was painted white and the accents a dark green. “As ready as I’ll ever be," he muttered. He was feeling a little less stressed after being around Catlynn, as she was a pretty calming person. Catlynn laughed. “Well then, let’s go introduce ourselves.”

They walked up to the porch of the house, but as they got closer to it, Jon felt a weird sense of dread coming over him. His grip tightened on the backpack he held. Catlynn knocked on the door. Jon tensed suddenly. “Catlynn,” he began, looking over at her. “Who is adopting me? Do you know their last name at least?” Catlynn looked over at Jon. “I think it was…” 

“Ah, hello there,” said a man opening the door. “Juliana Sims, correct? My name is Elias. 

Elias Bouchard.”

MOTHERFUC-

Chapter Text

Jon’s first reaction: biting him, of course. Elias snatched his bandaged hand back (HAH, Jon thought pettily) before Jon could connect with his flesh, and Catlynn, supposedly out of instinct, pulled him back. “Jon?! What are you doing!?” she yelped, holding his collar and looking at Jon and Elias with panic in her eyes. “You can’t leave me with him!” Jon protested, trying to get out of her grasp to run. “He’s not who he says he is! He’s a fucking monster!” he yelled, glaring daggers at Elias. Jon’s head suddenly developed a splitting headache, stopping his struggling because of the pain. Catlynn looked over to Elias. “Have you met him before?” Elias shook his head. “I have never seen her before. All I knew before today was that I was taking in a child. I never got to meet them before today,” Elias said, wearing a fake look of concern. Jon gritted his teeth through the pain and stared with burning hatred at the lying man. How could someone of the Eye be so untruthful? It disgusted a part of Jon deeply, making him hate Elias even more for his manipulative ways. He then quickly doubled over in pain, his headache suddenly flaring. “Jon? Listen, I promise you’ll be fine! Mr. Bouchard passed the mandatory tests with flying colors!” Jon, even through his pain, felt a sour taste in his mouth. Of course Elias ‘passed’ those tests with 'flying colors’. Catlynn looked over to Elias. “I- I’m sorry. He just has um… has had some trauma in the past,” she stammered, giving a quick, uncomfortable glance at Jon. “It’s fine, Catlynn. Why don’t you two come in?” Elias offered. Before getting an answer, he walked inside, ignoring Catlynn’s confused face. 

Though she seemed uncomfortable and a little worried, she crouched down to Jon, raising his face up. “Are you ok? Jon?” she asked, looking in his eyes. Jon rubbed his temple. Everything in his head hurt. “I’m fine,” he lied. Catlynn bit her lip, but gave Jon a half-hearted confident smile. “Alright then. Let’s go inside and meet your new parent, shall we?” She smiled, getting up. Catlynn grabbed Jon’s hand and started to pull him inside. Jon suddenly gained his composure and started to pull away. “No. No I can’t-'' Jon was interrupted by Elias’s sharp gaze turning onto him. “What was that, Juliana?” he asked, his terrible grey eyes staring into him. He was apparently standing beside the door, waiting for them. Jon felt himself freeze in fear. Jon hated those eyes. He despised them. When Elias had looked at him when he was archivist, it had always felt like an entire room of people were looking at him. Now, with what he had gone through with the world after, that feeling was even worse. It felt like everyone in the world had turned their gaze on him, making him feel exposed and judged. Somehow, Jon was able to choke out a response. “N-nothing,” he managed, looking to the floor. “It was nothing.” 

Elias smiled that damned satisfied smirk. “Alright then. Why don’t you two have a seat? Come on, I don’t bite," he politely joked, taking a quick glance at Jon. A small part of Jon was satisfied by the small fear Elias had in his eyes, but he was too busy worrying about everything else to really relish the moment. Pity. Elias sat on the cream couch, seeming to invite Jon to sit next to him. Jon took the armchair furthest from the couch. Catlynn sat in between them, in the armchair between the couch and Jon’s chair. “So…” she began, looking at Elias and Jon. “What questions did you have Mr. Bouchard?” she asked. “Well, if you don’t mind, I would like a moment alone with you first, please,” Elias said to Catlynn. He looked over to Jon, his eyes giving away a small glean of curiosity. “I can show Juliana to her new room and she can unpack while we talk.” Jon set his jaw, glaring a hole into the floor. He hated this so much. Not only the fact that he was now inside the house of his worst enemy, and according to the law, it seemed like he would stay there for a while, but also having him misgender and misname him? This was an absolute nightmare. 

Catlynn frowned slightly. “Well, his name is Jon, first off,” she corrected. Jon looked up, surprised by her amendment. She turned to Jon. “And does that plan sound good to you Jon?” Jon opened his mouth to protest that, no, nothing about the whole thing sounded ‘good’ in any way, shape, or form. But the words failed to reach his throat, even though he wished to protest so badly. Instead, because of Elias’ gaze still burning into the back of his neck, he forced himself to nod. Catlynn smiled. “Alright. Good.” She turned back to Elias and her smile slightly wavered. She got up. “Well, where should he unpack?” she asked politely. Elias got up, his hands behind his back. “Just over here,” he said, beginning to lead them through a big, open door out of the living room into the hall. Elias paused, looking back to see if they were following him. Jon looked over to Catlynn helplessly, and luckily, she took the job of following behind Elias. Jon took up his sage bag again, following behind Catlynn and fidgeting with the strap. He hummed, feeling very uncomfortable. He kept glancing at all of the walls, which were decorated with pictures of Eyes and old oil paintings. He decided to stare at the floor, which, luckily, (surprisingly,) was not decorated with weird Eye things. They went to the middle of the hallway, walking up the stairs that were there. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they walked to the side of the hallway. Jon bumped into Catlynn’s back and looked up, startled by the stop. 

“And here it is,” Elias said with a smile. It was a simple white door near the end of the hallway. Jon walked up to it and opened the door reluctantly. The room was sparse, containing only a desk, a bed, and a small bookshelf. “I wasn’t sure how you would like to decorate your room, so I left it fairly plain,” Elias explained, looking down at Jon. “You enjoy reading, correct?” he asked. Jon glanced at Elias, and he shrugged. “I think he packed quite a few books for himself,” Catlynn said with a smile. “Didn’t you, Jon?” Jon nodded to her, and Elias’ smile widened a bit. “I thought so,” he said, looking at Jon still. “Well, I have a library next to your room if you’d like to check that out while we’re talking," he said to Jon, gesturing over to a wooden door to the right of Jon’s room. “Now, Catlynn, correct?” he asked, looking over to her. “I uh…” she looked over to Jon. “Yes.” Elias nodded. “So, Catlynn, will you follow me please?” She nodded and Elias turned around, walking back to the stairs. Catlynn looked back to Jon one last time. She gave him a thumbs-up, and followed Elias down the stairs. Jon felt the corner of his mouth pull up a bit, but as he looked back to the room, he felt a bad taste in his mouth. 

He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, before sighing and covering his face. “Of fucking course," he muttered bitterly. Jon walked inside the room and closed the door, sitting on the floor with his backpack. Of course Jon had ended up in his enemy’s house, getting fucking adopted by him, and not having any idea what to do about it. It was just his luck. Just his luck that he ended up in a job that was actually a temple to a fear god, just his luck that he helped his evil boss with his plan to use him as a catalyst by trying to help his friends and satiate his thirst for knowledge, that he would be stabbed by the love of his life and end up at a weird empty place alone, just to be- Jon felt a tear trace down his cheek, his knees pulled into his chest. He forced his head into his knees, as if trying to hide from the world. Which, technically, he was. He swallowed back a sob, trying to keep himself from crying. This is a stupid feeling, he told himself. Get up and do…something, he thought angrily. Jon closed his eyes, using a breathing technique Tim had taught him when he was getting withdrawal symptoms after quitting smoking. It was as close as he could get to a comforting thing. 1 2 3 4 5… breathe in. 1 2 3 4 5… hold the breath. 1 2 3 4 5… breathe out. Jon opened his eyes. He felt a little bit better, but that still did not change what was going on around him. Jon sighed. He decided, since he was extremely tired and had nothing better to do, to look around the room, and perhaps later the library. As Jon walked around the room, he was half disappointed and half relieved to find that the room was just as it looked. It was plain white with light wood. Jon frowned at the brightness of the room. He disliked the openness and emptiness of it- he always liked to have at least a bit of decoration around him. When he was an adult at the institute, he ended up getting rid of most of his things because he wanted to be ‘professional’, and he regretted it deeply. When he was a teen and finally had his own money, he remembered spending most of it on brightly colored pins, figures, and artworks, and he was never happier than in that room because of it. He chuckled to himself slightly. He was so different as a teenager - he had just come out as trans, and he was almost confident that he would never be scared of judgment again, starting a pretty successful punk band, decorating his dorm in a way his Nani would have never allowed- it was an extremely freeing time. His assistants would never have believed it if he had- Jon’s face fell. He had been running his fingers along the bookshelf in his room, but he took his hand away and instead rubbed his arm. Right. Jon thought, looking away from the room. Right…  

Jon decided to go to the library instead, as it probably, hopefully, would not be as blinding and empty as "his" room. The wood door stood out on the white walls, seeming like something that might be an eyesore to Elias. As Jon opened it he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone was watching him. Jon scowled, his hand that was not on the door handle balling into a fist until his fingernails dug into his palm. He was used to the feeling, sure, but just knowing that someone he hated was watching him angered him almost as much as it scared him, even if he had gone to the world after. The Eye just loved to keep him scared, didn't it. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the unease building under his skin. He walked in and looked blandly at the bookshelves filled to the brim all over the room. There were piles and piles of books on the floor, on top of the bookshelves, everywhere they could fit. He began to look through the books on all of the shelves. A history book? Boring. Jon hesitated when putting it back. He decided to throw it behind him, if only just to annoy Elias. A Greek mythology book? No. Jon mostly felt like throwing stuff. He threw it behind him. A dictionary? Jon was not mentally well sure, but he wasn’t that level of far gone. Give him some credit. Jon threw it behind him. Jon walked through the library while Elias’ gaze watched him, throwing the books that he pulled out behind him. He paused on one book however. A journal, more specifically. It was in one of the book stacks on the floor. He had been weirdly drawn to the spot, and while looking through the stack, (of course still throwing any books that he picked up) he had found a leather journal in the middle of it. It had no title, so Jon decided to look through it. He flipped to a random page in the middle of it, and was met with clean ink writing.

“1889. May 14. 

“Today, I meant a man. An avatar of the Lonely, to be exact. He was at the party that I wrote of last, the one where I was planning to force some… ’interesting’ information into unsuspecting guests, but… he distracted me. 

The first thing I noticed was the smell of the sea, along with the faint trail of fog floating on the ground. I was in the middle of watching a man, feeling his fear as he looked around, convinced that everyone in the room’s head was turned to him, unblinking stares focused on him. The fog however, distracted me from putting this man in his hellscape, so I dropped the man from his fear and turned to find the source of this distraction.”

As Jon continued to read through the passage, the author wrote about the man of the Lonely, with white hair and a white beard, a large figure and blue clothes with a captain's hat. Apparently, ‘quite handsome’ according to the writer. Jon frowned, looking at the cover to see if there were any initials on it. On the inside of the cover, in the same neat handwriting, was written: ‘Return to: Jonah Magnus’. Jon’s eyes widened as he read that. That meant…this was one of Elias’ old journals. Jon immediately dropped the book and leapt away from it, as if the book was cursed. He wiped his hands on his clothes, acting as if the book was a Leightner. He stared at the book from a different part of the room. He contemplated whether he should pick it back up again and continue reading it, but he decided otherwise. He didn't like holding that book. It was almost as cursed as a Leightner. Almost. 

Jon ended up trashing more of Elias’ library, occasionally looking back at the journal, biting his lip. After throwing around some more books, Jon heard the door of the library open. “Jules?” Elias’ voice asked. Jon froze. He looked over his shoulder, looking straight at Elias. Elias looked around the room, seeming slightly annoyed, maybe even amused. “Catlynn and I talked about your care,” he said, walking up to Jon. “So, perhaps you will come with me out of the library?” he asked, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder to lead him away. Jon tried, yet again, to bite his wrist. Elias however, was prepared. He grabbed Jon’s collar as Jon thrashed, trying to get out of his grasp. “Let go of me you fucker!” he screamed, still trying to bite him. “Calm down!” Elias yelled, holding Jon up. “Julianna,"  he growled, the Watchers gaze sharpening on him. Jon continued to thrash, though he felt fear build up in his throat. Jon looked over at Elias, staring directly at him. “I said LET. ME. GO." he snarled. Elias immediately dropped him, and Jon fell, his head hurting like hell itself. He only felt pain. And pain was all he could know.

Jon woke up with a start, in the blindingly light room with Elias sitting at the desk. Elias looked back at Jon. “Ah. You’re awake." He paused, giving Jon a wary look. “You’re not going to try and bite me again, correct?” Jon glared at him. “I-'' as he began to speak, he fell backward a bit, his head spiking in pain. Elias offered Jon a glass of water, which Jon stared at for a moment. “I didn’t poison it,” Elias said, raising an eyebrow. Jon gave him a slightly withering look, but took the water anyway. Elias looked at Jon as he chugged the glass of water, observing his curious vitiligo. It was drawn on his arms in thin straight lines. He also had two thick lines of it on his neck, and along with the vitiligo he had pretty noticeable freckles all over his body, at least from where Elias could see on his skin. He didn’t get to look at Jon much on their first meeting. Well, he didn’t get to think much during their first meeting either.

                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

                                                    POV CHANGE 

Elias had been sitting at his office, doing some paperwork to get a new artifact brought into the Archives, when something caught his eye. Well, his supernatural Eye. As he usually did, he was doing a skim of the Archive, to make sure everything was in order. Gertrude was finishing up a statement, Michael and…that new employee were going out to lunch, Rosie was trying not to fall asleep at her desk…he paused his work as he came to the last sight. A girl was running into the archives. She had tan skin and big brown eyes filled with panic. Elias barely got to see what she looked like before she flew past the eye painting he was watching from. Elias sat in his office, not moving his sight yet, in stunned silence. Did- was that a child? In the archives? In his archives? He reached for his monocle, a gift from the eye that let him look at different places without having to look through eyes. As he looked, he saw the child duck under a desk, breathing heavy. As Elias watched the desk, he saw a flash of neon green from underneath it. This, of course with the child, piqued Elias’ interest. He moved closer to it, and saw the child rubbing their left eye, and looking up at the desk above her. There seemed to be a glint in her eyes…Fear? Determination? …Hunger? The girl moved into a crouch, and looked over the desk, staring at the array of statements. Then, she did something that surprised Elias the most - she started grabbing statements. 

Elias stared at her in shock, as she continued to grab seemingly random papers from the stack. Once she seemed satisfied with her loot, she quickly dodged down as she saw Gertrude come out of her office.  “Dammed Elias… the man can’t do anything for himself. I swear, his tactic to end the world is going to be begging me to do it…” she muttered angrily. Elias glared at her, but quickly turned his attention back to the kid, who was pursing her lips, seemingly to keep herself from laughing. Elias frowned at her. Once Gertrude’s footsteps faded away, the girl pulled herself up into a crouch yet again. For a moment, she looked back at the statements, and Elias could see a glint in her eyes…a glint that was unmistakably hunger. She ran out from under the desk, and Elias decided to stop watching.  He took off the monocle, and got up from his desk. He walked towards the door, deciding to go and meet his..guest. 

He approached the girl as she opened the door, looking relieved. Elias moved up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hello there…child.” Elias greeted her with a careful smile placed on his face. Her eyes widened in panic as she looked back at him, her body freezing. “Might I ask why you have taken those statements from my institu-” before he could finish his sentence, the girl suddenly whipped around and bit his hand. Elias yelled, feeling her teeth sink into his flesh and causing it to bleed. The girl then ran like the wind, rounding the corner before Elias could tell where she was going. People on the street turned their heads, and people came up to him to ask him if he was ok. “I- yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Elias said politely to the people, his smile becoming strained. He straightened his posture and nodded to all of them. “I need to go,” he said to them. He walked back inside quickly, placing his hand on the one that had been bitten to keep it from shaking. Once he had gotten inside his office, he looked at his hand, which had the imprint of the child’s teeth on it. He could feel the cuts healing, but they seemed to be doing so slowly. Elias frowned for a moment, but sighed and decided to wrap his hand up, just because he wasn’t too keen on getting an infection. He grabbed a first aid kit that, for some reason, he still kept in his desk, and began to wrap his hand up in gauze. He thought about the girl’s eyes when she was giving him that crazed look, looking like a trapped alley cat. Her left eye seemed to flash a neon green, right before she had bit his hand and ran. Not only that, but the desk she had hid under also flashed a poison color, not unlike the color he had seen the Eye’s stamp in… Elias stopped wrapping his hand in gauze and thought about that. The green color of the Eye…he had been trying to figure out how to bring the Eye to the world for years, and now there seemed to be a child who had its signature mark. There was also the fact of the desolation’s child catalyst…Elias’ eyes widened. 

What if this was it? A sign from his God? A being to bring them into the world to overflow it in fear and terror? He sat there in his chair, his mind racing over this idea. His mouth slowly found its way into a smile. A sign from his God…he had been waiting for something like this for decades...c enturies. Elias grinned. 

He looked into the girl for the next few hours. For some reason he couldn’t gather much information on her, even with his bonus info from the Eye. It seemed to be holding back information from Elias about her…no. That wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t do that to its most devoted follower. Though he couldn’t find out much about the girl, he did find out that she lived with her grandmother, and with help from the Eye he found out where they lived as well. 

This would be his greatest project yet. 

He would bring his God to his world. 

[No matter how many layers of gauze it took.]

Chapter Text

Jon chugged half of the water, and placed the cup on the side table of the bed. Jon looked back at Elias, who was staring at him. “Stop staring at me,” Jon said, scowling at Elias. Elias met Jon’s eyes, making Jon extremely unsettled. His grey eyes were unreadable, yet seemed to hold a small glint of…something. He couldn’t tell. He then smiled at Jon, which made him scowl deeper. “If you are feeling better now, we have much to talk about,” Elias said, getting up. “You’ve been out for quite a while. We can talk at the dinner table.” Elias walked out the door. Jon sat in the bed, staring at the door frame. Jon had messed up. He had messed up in unfathomable ways. But, when Jon had nothing left to do, he did one thing without fail, no matter what. He followed the source of information. 

Jon sat at the table, staring directly at Elias as their bowls of soup cooled beneath them. “Are you going to talk?” Jon asked blandly. “I was expecting you to ask me questions first,” Elias responded. “But if you want me to start, I can oblige." He nodded, a small smirk on his face. “So, Julinana, what do you like to do in your free time?” 

“Read,” Jon said simply. Jon refused to give Elias any more information about him than he had already. And with the Eye, Jon could only hope the Eye would spare him and let his thoughts not be seen. Elias smirked at his answer. “Interesting. I enjoy reading as well, though because of my job, I don’t have a lot of time to do so,” Elias explained. Jon kept his arms crossed, still glaring at Elias. “Why did you take me from my grandmother?” Jon asked immediately. Elias’ eyes glittered with humor. “I didn’t take you from your grandmother,” he said. “I just decided to open my home to adopting a child, and you were apparently the one who got assigned to me.” 

“Cut the act,” Jon snarled at him without thinking. Elias’ eyes flashed dangerously. “What ‘act’?” he deflected. “We both know what I’m talking about,” Jon said a little more quietly, his shoulders tensing. Elias tilted his head upward slightly. “Well. I was going to keep with the pleasantries, but I suppose we could cut to the deeper questions,” he began. Elias leaned forward. “So. Why did you take those statements from my archives?” Jon shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under the gaze of his silver eyes. 

“Why do you wanna know?!” he snapped back. Jon immediately regretted it, berating himself for responding like that. Elias, luckily for Jon, actually looked surprised. “Excuse me?” Jon decided that his last lie was better than anything he could think of at the moment. So, he kept his arms crossed and tried his best to look like an annoyed child. “Why. Do. You. Wanna. Know?” he asked again, accentuating each word. Elias gave him a weird look. “Because…because it’s my Archive?” he replied in confusion. Jon didn’t waver in his eye contact. “Not an answer,” he said as annoyingly as he could. Elias seemed to forget that he was supposed to be keeping up a kind act and continued to stare at Jon with a strange expression. “I think it’s a reasonable answer, Julinana,” Elias said. Jon raised his eyebrows. “Not reasonable enough for me.” Elias gave him a confused look. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Huh, Jon thought dully. I left him speechless for the first time. Good for me, I guess. “Well…I suppose we’ll touch on… that later. Well, if you don’t mind, I think we should continue with the basic questions.” Elias commented, trying to put on another fake smile, but this one looked a little more forced. “What’s your favourite food?” He asked, almost acting as if nothing had happened. “I don’t have one,” Jon responded. It was almost true, he had forgotten what his favourite foods were even before the world after because he pretty much just needed to eat statements at that point. “Alright then,” Elias said, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment. “What’s your favorite…animal?” Elias tried. “Cats.” Jon said plainly. 

“What do you do to relax?” 

“Depends,” 

“What’s your favourite book?” 

“Don’t have one.” 

“Then what’s your least favourite book?” 

“None of your business.” Jon deflected. That caught Elias’ attention. 

“What’s wrong? It’s a simple question Jules,” Elias said, raising a brow. Jon dug his fingernails into his arm. Dammit, he thought. In his defence, Mr. Spider and Elias were tied very close together, and Elias asking about his ‘least favourite book’ set him off. “I just don’t-listen. You and I both know that you’re not going to get far with the small talk with me. This is pointless.” Jon paused. “I might answer your stupid questions…if you tell me why you took me from my grandmother.” Elias looked at Jon, his smile wavering. “I didn’t take you from your grandmother, Jules,” Elias insisted. “Then why did you know what I meant by saying that we knew each other already?” Jon countered. “And for Christ's sake, Catlynn literally told you to call me Jonathan. Or at least Jon. Anything but damning ‘Jules’,” he said before Elias could respond. Elias tilted his head slightly. “Right then…Jon. And yes, I was being a little evasive about us meeting before..but I did not organize this arrangement. I’m not sure how I would even do that, honestly.” He looked at Jon curiously. “Why do you seem to think I can?” he asked. Jon scowled. “I’ll answer that when you tell me why you took me from my grandmother.” 

They stared at each other for a few moments, a sort of stand off. Elias broke it off first, and thank the gods for that, as Jon was feeling his skin crawl with terror as Elias’ grey eyes bore into them. “How is your soup? I tried a new recipe today- I’m not much of a cook if I’m honest,” he said, picking up his spoon. Jon continued to glare at him and looked down at the bowl. He was kind of hungry, but his throat closed at the idea of eating. He didn’t want to touch the soup. Something about it seemed disgusting to him, and he felt that if he ate it he would vomit. Jon instead took his cup of water and took a sip from it, trying to not cough it back up. Jon had always had problems with food and eating, ever since he was a young child. His Nani had just chalked it up to being a picky eater when he was younger, as he had kept within the food he had tried before and always wanted the food not to be touching each other. Of course, he could barely care to feed himself later as an adult, so this was a feeling he had forgotten. He stared at the spices floating in the soup, its steam long since faded. He hugged his stomach and pulled his knees into his chest, still staring at the soup. “...Jon?” Elias asked. Jon looked up at him and turned his face to a glare. “What?” he questioned. “Are you going to eat your soup?” Jon looked back down at the soup. “Not hungry,” Jon decided. “Are you sure? You were asleep for quite a few hours,” Elias said. Jon shrugged. “I’m just not hungry,” he lied. Elias looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “Alright then. I’ll show you around the house tomorrow morning. You can go to your room if you’d like. I have someone I have to meet with tonight,” he said to Jon. Jon paused. Who would be meeting with Elias, of all people? 

But, Jon decided that he couldn’t be bothered to help the person who was unfortunately meeting with Elias, as he was tired and did not want to be around him any longer. He stood up and walked away from Elias without another word. Once he got into the room Elias had given him though, his small facade broke. He sat down on the ground, hard, and began to break down. He curled into a small ball and started to shake. He hated that he was being so weak, so vulnerable, but he had gone emotionless for too long, and he felt just too full. He was supposed to be used to holding so much information, so much pain and sorrow. He had dealt with Tim’s death from waking up from the coma. He had read all of those statements and still woke up and went to work, even when all of them haunted his mind. But that was when he had been an ‘eye monster’ and now…Jon wrapped his arms around his too-small body. He was a child. A too small bodied child. A too thin, too curved child. Jon felt tears roll their way down his cheeks, though against his will. But, before he could do anything about it, he found himself hugging his knees tighter and full on crying, his breaths coming shallow and quick. He tried to keep his breakdown quiet so that Elias wouldn’t notice, but a large, childish, part of him wanted to scream and break something. He was tired. He was confused. But most of all, he was overwhelmed. Jon dug his fingernails into his skin, the pain bringing him to his senses. Stupid, he thought bitterly. I have more important things to worry about other than just being ‘overwhelmed’.

Jon took a hand and smoothed it across his hair, grabbing and tugging at it as he got close to the end. He tried for a deep breath, tugging harder on his hair to steady his thoughts. And to be hurt. That had always helped him focus as a teen, and leading more into his adult life as well. Jon’s thoughts easily floated to the past as they had always done in the world after, and he thought about the first time he had done something to purposefully hurt himself. To make himself feel pain.  

Jon knew it was a bad idea. Jon knew it was a stupid thing for him to do, and if anyone found out he’d be poked and prodded out of his mind for it, but he felt so numb and blank, he needed something to soothe the itch he had grown. Not to mention how stupid he was for messing up at Georgie’s party. He should have known it was a joke. Now he looked like an idiot. So, with those thoughts, Jon found himself with a pocketknife he had purchased at a shop late in the night. He didn’t care what the cashier thought of him. He needed this. Jon took the knife and brought it to his arm, his heart speeding up as his primal instinct protested his every move. But he forced his hand down. Jon took a sharp breath as the knife ran over his skin, quickly removing it when he felt the sting of his flesh. He looked at the small trace of blood that began to slowly come out of the cut in his arm, moving his arm around and watching it glint in the moonlight. The cut stung badly, but it itched that wretched itch Jon’s self-hating thoughts had gone and provoked, so he didn’t mind. Jon felt his angry thoughts fade slowly into the dull sting of the cut, and dragged the knife along his wrist again, digging it a bit deeper before he quickly pulled away. The pain felt freeing. Amazing. Horrible. 

The next morning, Jon put on long black fingerless gloves to cover his newly received scars. He wanted to continue, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to if someone else found out. 

Jon was pulled out of his memory by a faint noise of a door opening and closing. At first, like many times he had done before in his grandmother’s house, he forgot where he was and began to be confused and alarmed. There weren’t doors where he was. Was Helen back? If Helen was back, Jon was going to find a wall and bash his head against it, he did not need any more of her commentary, even if she was going to be the first person Jon had seen since being stabbed. Then it all came back to him quickly. Eye. Child. Elias goddamn Bouchard. He got up from the floor, wiping his tears again and moving to the door to his room. He pushed his ear against it and listened. “Evening Jonah.” A muffled gruff voice said from downstairs. “Good evening Peter,” Elias responded. Ah. Peter Lucas. So that’s who it was. “So. How have your rituals been going?” Elias asked conversationally. Jon’s breath caught, his heart speeding up a bit. Jon heard Peter laugh in response. “None of your business Elias dear," Peter said with humor in his voice. “How have yours been?” Jon opened his door, walking down the stairs curiously. Their voices began to grow louder and clearer as he walked down. Elias hummed happily. “Well, I’ve found a new lead, and that’s all you need to know at the moment,” Elias said, a smirk in his voice. Jon’s eyes widened. A LEAD ? Jon thought, his eyebrows suddenly furrowing. He- he's not supposed to know about anything for the Apocalypse yet- right? Jon started scratching at his arm, listening intently. “A lead?” Peter asked with amusement. “May I know anything else about this…’lead’?” he questioned. Elias chuckled. “No, unfortunately.” he said with an obvious smug smirk bleeding into his voice. “Though it does seem like it’s going to work well.” 

Jon scratched harder on his arms when he heard this. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What am I doing? I-I need to do something- anythi- He winced suddenly, looking down at his arm and realized it was bleeding. Peter paused, seeming to notice something. “Elias…did you happen to invite another of the Lonely to join us tonight? Perhaps another fear? ” he asked. Elias’ smile fell. “No..Why do you ask?” 

“Someone- or something- reeks of fear in here.” Jon held his breath. He wasn’t sure what Peter meant, but he hoped looking for this person did not include finding Jon as well. He heard one of their chairs come out and someone’s footsteps approach the door to the kitchen. Jon tried to curl himself into the smallest ball that he could, a futile attempt at hiding. He heard the footsteps walk out the door, and then stop right next to him. “Oh, well, what do we have here?” Peter’s voice mused. Jon felt a hand wrap around his wrist, pulling him upward. “LET GO OF ME!” Jon immediately yelled, ripping his hand out of Peter’s hand. Peter let go in surprise, stumbling backwards a bit. Jon bared his teeth at Peter, hoping that he would take it as a threat of biting him if he came closer or touched Jon again, which it was. Elias appeared at the edge of the door, looking at Peter with confusion. “What happened?” His eyes wandered over to Jon who scowled at him as well as Peter. “Ah. Jonathan,” he said, looking at Jon with a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Let me introduce you two,” he said happily, stepping out into the hall. “Jonathan, meet Peter Lucas, one of my…business partners. Peter, this is Jonathan Sims,” he introduced them with a smile. Peter looked at Jon questioningly and then looked back at Elias. “And um…why do you have a child in your house?” Peter asked. Jon had to admit, it was a good question. Elias was definitely not the type to just host a child in his house. Yet…here Jon was. He was curious to know the answer to that question as well. “I just decided to open my house up to foster care, and this was the child I was given,” Elias said simply. He then paused, looking over to Peter. “Wait. What did you mean by-'' He stopped and glanced back at Jon. “Jon, how about you go back to your room? I still have to talk to Peter about...some things,” Elias said rather evasively. Jon bit the inside of his cheek. It was obvious that they wouldn’t talk about anything in front of Jon, but it also seemed that they had something he would like to know about. 

“Fine.” Jon sighed. He would just try his best to listen to their conversation from upstairs. “Good. Off to bed now,” Elias said to him, pushing him towards the stairs. Jon walked upstairs to the bedroom, pushing his ear up against the door as soon as he closed it. “Alright then,” said Elias’ muffled voice from downstairs. “Just a moment.” Jon heard a door close from downstairs, and Jon realized that he had closed the kitchen door. Dammit! He thought, hitting the floor of the bedroom. He sat on the floor, glaring at the ground. He curled into a ball, hiding his face in his knees. He should be doing something. Just-something about this damn situation he was in. He felt a warm tear run down his face. He bit his tongue, tasting the small bit of blood that he drew from it run to the back of his mouth. Jon wondered why this was happening to him. He had done so much already- why couldn’t he just be left alone? Why couldn’t he- Jon bit even harder on his tongue, berating himself. STUPID! He thought again, crossing his arms and digging his fingernails into his flesh. I don’t matter, I need to focus, and there’s nothing I can do at this point. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips. He opened his eyes again, looking at his backpack. I need to plan.  

Chapter Text

Jon ended up falling asleep at his desk. His mind was swimming when he got to the desk, and before he knew it, he had drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. Jon woke up when he heard a knock at his door. “Jonathan?” Elias’ voice asked outside his door. Jon rubbed his eyes wearily. He got up and opened the door. “What?” He asked with a slightly gravelly voice. Elias looked down at him, seeming to observe his appearance. Jon’s arms moved up to his chest uncomfortably, crossing them against it. “I made breakfast. We have much to talk about. But first,” he looked down at Jon’s clothes, pausing. “You need to change your outfit. You apparently fell asleep in the clothes you wore yesterday,” Elias noted with a bit of annoyance. He walked away from Jon’s room. Once Elias had his back turned, Jon stuck his tongue out at him, slightly surprising himself with how child-like the action was. He frowned. Child. Like. He shook the thought out of his head, going to distract himself with clothing. He had too much to think about right now. He had to press on.

Jon decided to wear an oversized work shirt with black pants underneath it. It was pretty simple, but Jon honestly did not care at this point. He walked down the stairs, running his hand along the bannister’s wood. When he walked into the kitchen, Elias had apparently made pancakes for breakfast, which made Jon pause for a minute. He didn’t know what he thought Elias did for food, but for some reason he had never thought that Elias could cook. Jon sat down at the table across from Elias, finally deciding to eat instead of starving himself again. While he was eating, Elias began to speak. “Today we’re going to visit the archive, my workplace,” Elias said, cutting up his pancakes. Jon paused, stuffing his pancakes in his mouth for a moment, swallowing. “Why? Aren’t you scared I’ll take another one of your precious papers?” Jon tried, acting confident in front of Elias. Elias smirked at that, looking down at Jon with slight amusement. “Well actually, I will be keeping you in my office for most of the day, so I don’t have much of a fear that you’ll steal one of the statements from my archive,” Elias chuckled. “Plus, if I have to leave for a meeting or something where you are not allowed, I have many employees that are willing to take care of you while I am away.” Jon almost choked on his pancakes when he realized he could be left in a room with Micheal, or even worse, Gertrude. “I’m sure they’d be more than willing to watch you and make sure you don’t grab any papers for a few minutes,” Elias said with a smile. If they want to keep their lives and their jobs, Jon thought, biting his cheek. They continued to eat their pancakes for a few minutes, when Elias paused. “Though, since you did bring it up…” He began, turning his gaze back to Jon. Oh no. “I am still waiting for an answer to my question from yesterday, Jon.” Jon looked up at Elias, forcing himself to meet those horrid grey eyes. “What question? You ask a lot of them,” Jon decided on retorting, keeping a tough facade. Elias’ eyes showed a bit of annoyance, but he continued. “My line of work requires a lot of questioning. So I’ll remind you.” Jon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Elias’ gaze seemed to intensify, making his throat seem to close. “Why did you take those statements from my archive?”

Because I was desperate and hungry. Jon felt the answer almost be tugged out of his mouth, but he refused to budge. Maybe the Eye had given him the mercy of not being compelled, but Jon didn’t try pondering it for too long. Elias might have wanted this answer enough to compel Jon, but Jon would rather die than give him the satisfaction of an answer. He knew the itching feeling of confusion, and how bad it could get for an avatar of the Eye. He wanted Elias to feel that. “You still haven’t given me a good answer to either of mine,” Jon chose to say, avoiding the question entirely. Elias seemed to grow even more annoyed at this answer, obviously noticing Jon’s apparent immunity to the compelling he had just tried. “And which would yours be?” Elias asked. Jon got his words out even if his lungs were having a hard time breathing underneath the gaze of Elias’ grey eyes. “Well, lucky you, you have a choice. For one, why did you take me from my grandmother?” Elias tried his best to hide the exasperated look, but Jon could tell that he was annoyed with Jon’s persistence. “For the last time, I did not take you from your-”
“And since you don’t want to answer that,” Jon interrupted. “Why do you even care about those statements so much?” They stared at each other for a few more seconds until Jon finally broke it off. If he looked at those wretched eyes for another damn minute, he was going to squirm out of his skin. “I’m going to go grab my things. If you're not going to let me out of your boring office I’ll need something to keep me entertained,” Jon said with a pointed glare at Elias. To be honest though, he just wanted to get away from that table. He ran upstairs to go find the notebook he had taken with him. He had decided to bring his plans with him during the chaos of his “rehoming” which, although not happy with his situation, he was grateful he had something to work out his thoughts on. Though, as he began to walk out of the room, he paused thinking about something. What if Elias got a hold of this? Jon wouldn’t be surprised if Elias decided to snoop around in a child's things, but what about the notebook? I mean, within being at Elias’ house for just a day, they already had a sort of secretive rift between the two of them, which wasn’t surprising. But this notebook was important. This notebook had things that no child from this time should know about. Jon had never thought a notebook would hold so many secrets of his, just with a small list of things to do. Jon snorted. ‘Small’ list. Yet it summed up his overwhelming thoughts that choked his mind at every angle.

Jon, after a moment of thinking, ripped out the paper and put it in his back pocket. He could deal with it later, but he didn’t trust leaving it in his notebook where Elias might find it. Jon reluctantly walked down the stairs, pulling at his loose shirt around the neck to fidget. Elias was waiting by the door for Jon, staring out the window. “Ah. Jonathan. Are you finally ready to go?” Elias asked blandly. Jon nodded, and walked out of the front door before Elias. Jon was slightly surprised to find out that Elias had a car as well. This shouldn’t have surprised him, Elias was certainly not the person to walk to the archive every day, but he also didn’t seem like the type of man to end the world when Jon first met him, so you never knew. It was a sleek white car, something that didn’t really stick out, but was elegant enough to tell it was from someone who was more upper class in society. Jon almost went to the front passenger seat by default, but then became conscious of his decisions and remembered who was going to be driving the car, so he decided on the backseat instead. Besides that was probably the best place to sit for a child. Child.

Jon focused on the car instead of his thoughts.

He picked at the leather of the car seat once Elias got in and began to drive, staring out the window. As they drove, Elias started to speak. “Before we go to the archives, I think I should tell you about it first,” he said to Jon. “First, do not wander around the archives. We have many old papers and books, and if you misplace them, you would be in very big trouble,” he said first, turning the car around. “Unless I let you see them, don’t touch the books. Second, please do not cause my employees problems. They are very hard-working, so please don’t mess up their work.” Jon glared at the window. Trust me, I know all too well how you treat your employees, he thought bitterly. Elias then seemed to remember something. “Oh, and I do meet with many business partners such as Peter. I’ll hand you over to one of my employees when that happens.” He paused. “Then there’s the matter of my…archivist, Gertrude.” Jon stopped picking at the leather as well, so the only sound that filled the car was the sound of wheels on asphalt. “She’s…quite temperamental, if I’m honest. Just ignore her, alright?” Jon stared out the window. Gertrude, Gertrude, Gertrude. She was very important, and therefore, extremely difficult. She was the best person to go to for help, but would she trust a child? Would she listen to a child? Would she even let him speak? And, what about Gerad, would he trust Jon’s intuition enough to even check his brain tumor? How old was he, even? He could be a kid - Jon didn’t know shit about Gerry’s life if he was honest. He could be dead by now. Another dead person. Another person he was too late to save. Another person that met death, because he wasn’t good enough to save them. Fucking typical.

“Jonathan.” Elias’ voice said, breaking Jon out of his thoughts. The car had stopped. Had they already arrived at the archive? “W-what?” Jon asked, rubbing his eyes. His brows had apparently been furrowed. Elias stared at him for a moment. “We’re here,” he said. Jon quickly pulled the door handle and kicked it open, trying to get away from the stuffy car as quickly as possible. He gripped his notebook tighter, as he stared at the doors of the archives. One building, so much pain. One building, so many memories. One building. One damned archive. One fucked crew of archivists. Elias placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, making him flinch. “Come along now Jon,” Elias insisted. Jon turned back to look at him, glaring. “I thought I taught you not to put your hand on my shoulder last time,” Jon snarled. Elias slowly took his hand off Jon’s shoulder. “That’s what I thought,” Jon grumbled, walking into the archive. He couldn’t look weak. Not now, not here. This time around, Jon actually had goals and knowledge.

And the only way to fix this timeline was to use it.

Elias ended up next to Jon, his long strides easily getting him close to Jon. “My office is up here, Jon,” he said, gesturing over to his stairs. “I-” Jon immediately closed his mouth. Elias paused and looked at him. “What was that?” he asked. Jon bit his tongue. He was about to say I know. An automatic response. But he couldn’t know now. “Nothing.” he said. He started to walk up the stairs to Elias’ office, hesitating at the top to look unsure. From the top of the stairs, he could see the institute quite clearly. The dome ceiling let in the sunlight of the morning, its design elegantly lighting the floor of the archive. The floor was empty other than the furniture on the ground, as they had come rather early to avoid the crowds. Polished marble and caramel wood, bookshelves and dust, dark carpets and plants were the main things filling the archive, other than its books and papers of course. “In here,” Elias told Jon. Jon turned around as Elias opened his office door, turning on the lights. He pointed at a chair on the side of the room. “You can sit there,” he said. “I’ll be working, so don’t bother-” Elias paused. “Do not ask me for anything unless it is important,” he corrected. Jon looked at the chair. It was just a plastic chair, the type that he vaguely remembered sitting in when he was in elementary school. Jon sat down in the chair as Elias sat down at his computer.

Jon spun the pencil around in his fingers, frowning. It had been quite a while since they had gone into the archive, and because his thoughts couldn’t stay focused, he had absolutely nothing to do. He had really tried to keep himself focused on one thing, but he seemed unable to at the moment. Jon spun in the chair, sitting sideways. He then began to lay back towards the floor. His head reached the ground as he lay there, his feet still hanging on the other side. Elias’ typing paused, which surprised Jon mildly. “What are you doing?” Elias asked. Jon swung his feet a bit. “Sitting,” he replied. “That-” Elias stared at him. “That is not sitting.”
“I disagree,” Jon said, putting the pencil in his mouth. He sunk his teeth into the soft wood. “Can you just sit normally?” Elias begged. “There’s nothing to do here, so no,” Jon said, taking out the pencil and examining the bite marks on it. “Plus, this still counts as sitting,” he chimed again. Elias sighed. He paused, looking over to the door. “My employees are here. Would you like to meet them since there's absolutely nothing to do here?” he asked sarcastically. Jon kept lying sideways on the chair, pausing to think about the question. True, he was bored. But was he that desperate? “No, not rea-” Both of them heard a knock at the door, making Jon stop in the middle of his sentence. “Come in,” Elias said, looking over to the door. Jon only got to see the shoes of the man, which were sandals, for some reason, as they walked over to Elias’ desk. But then, the voice began to speak. One voice that was still very confusing to Jon, even in this timeline. Which was very ironic.

“Well, um, I was wondering Mr. Bouchard, if you happened to know where the-” Jon sat up immediately once he heard the timid voice, making himself dizzy. He brought his hand up and rubbed his head, already regretting sitting up too fast. He looked over to the man though, just to make sure who it was. Yup. A man with a blonde bob, black framed round glasses with sparkling, almost dull purple eyes beneath them. Those eyes turned to Jon’s fast motion of sitting up, looking startled. When he saw Jon, he did not look any less surprised. Micheal looked to Elias. “Uhm… I…” He looked back over to Jon again, and Elias followed his gaze. “Ah. Apologies, I haven’t introduced you two yet,” he said, a small fake smile on his face. He gestured over to Jon. “Micheal, this is Jonathan Sims. He is a child I have taken under my care recently.” He then looked over to Jon. “Jon, this is Micheal. One of the archival assistants in the archive.” Jon felt himself hurt for a small moment as he heard that title. ‘Archival assistant’. He could remember listening to Martin’s tape back when he had gone under Peter Lucas’s control, hearing him correct his title to “Assistant to Peter Lucas.” At that moment, he couldn’t tell if he missed that title or hated both of them. Now, he couldn’t tell if he liked hearing it again, for anyone. He couldn’t tell whether it was a punishment or just something that came with a lot of tragedy.

Micheal gave Elias a confused look for a moment, but turned back to Jon and put on a smile. “Nice to meet you Jonathan!” he said happily. He offered his hand to shake. “J-just call me Jon,” Jon managed. He looked at Micheal’s hand, looking at the long fingers he had. His whole figure was thin and tall, but Jon could see it in his fingers more clearly. They were lanky and were definitely longer than Jon’s short hands, but they weren’t spiral level. No, not at all. Jon timidly stuck out his hand, acting as if he touched Micheal he would fade away, or remember, or get taken again. Again, again, again. Micheal shook his hand, a happy smile still on his face. “Right then, Jon,” he said. “I’m Micheal, as Mr. Bouchard said. You can find me down in the archive with Ms. Gertrude!” he explained. “Have you met her yet?” he asked Jon. “No, he’s not gotten to meet many people yet, he’s been in my office the whole morning,” Elias answered for Jon. “Ah!” Micheal grinned. “You should go meet Ms. Gertrude, Jon!” He said excitedly. He then paused for a moment. “Well, she might not be in the best mood today…” He looked to the side. “Or any day…” Micheal whispered. Elias stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. “You know what? How about you go meet Rosie? She’s my assistant, and she’s just at the counter. Here, follow me,” Jon stood in Elias’ office for a moment, pursing his lips. Ok… He thought with annoyance. Guess I don’t get a choice after all!

Jon walked down the stairs reluctantly, dragging his hand along the bannister. Downstairs, Rosie was standing at her desk, headphones in her ears as she listened to something that seemed to be a portable radio. Jon wasn’t sure why she decided to carry it around, but he guessed it could get pretty dull in the archives if you had nothing to do. Jon wouldn’t know. He always had his mind racing in some way. Elias tapped Rosie on the shoulder, making her head pop up. She took out her headphones, stopping her melodic muttering. “Oh- was there something you needed Mr. Bouchard?” she asked in a polite voice. “Oh, I just wanted to introduce you to my new foster child, Jon,” Elias responded with a smile, gesturing towards Jon. Jon wanted to gag once Elias said that. Rosie blinked in surprise. “E-excuse me?” she stumbled out. Elias’ eyes seemed to sparkle with humour. “My new foster child,” he repeated. “Here Jon, go introduce yourself. Micheal, could you speak with me for a moment?” Elias asked politely. It was clear he wasn’t asking. Jon stood awkwardly in front of Rosie’s desk, both of them watching as Elias and Micheal walked away. “So…Jon, right?” Rosie began. “Yes.” he confirmed. They stood there for a moment. “And your Elias’ new kid?” she asked. Jon winced. “Please don’t call me that. He’s…temporarily keeping me. I guess. It’s difficult to explain.” he said, shifting a bit. “You don’t like him?” she questioned, leaning back on her desk and crossing her arms. Jon shrugged. “He’s um…he just interrogates me a lot. I don’t like being questioned like that,” Jon explained. Rosie nodded sympathetically. “Yeah. Elias is pretty intense. For a child it’s probably worse,” she admitted. They stood there for another moment, looking anywhere but each other. “What are you listening to?” Jon decided to ask next. Rosie just shrugged. “Eh, whatever's on the radio if I’m honest. Nothing special,” she said. Jon nodded, and they settled back into the awkward silence that they were once in.

Luckily, Micheal and Elias returned from where they were talking just a moment earlier. Micheal looked at Jon, giving him a thumbs-up, for reasons Jon didn’t know. Something about his look though looked more…worried? Concerned? Jon gave Elias a suspicious look, which he promptly ignored. Jon crossed his arms. “So Jon, since we’re already out, I should introduce you to the other workers here,” Elias said happily. Jon just stood there. Why does the universe hate me? What did I do? he thought tiredly. “Come along now, Jonathan,” Elias encouraged. “See you later Rosie,” Elias finished with a nod. “Right. Nice to meet you Jon!” Rosie said to him as he was ushered away from her desk. Jon barely got to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

Jon hated people. He had always hated people, let’s be real. When he was a kid, other kids tried to convince him to play worthless games. When he was a teen- well…an older teen, that is, other teens were loud and obnoxious, going to parties instead of studying. When he was an adult, everyone was just annoying for their own special reasons. So yeah, he had always been an introvert, and at some points (but not for too long because of the Lonely) an almost full hikikomori, his only company being books. But god he had forgotten what it was like to be a kid going out and being swarmed by adults. Most of the archive workers, thank the small mercy of the universe, were like Jon when he was working in the archive, and were not sure what exactly to do with child Jon. Most of them shook his hand, or nodded over to him, which Micheal seemed to disprove of. He didn’t say anything, but he sort of gave them a disappointed look. Though, unluckily, a few people treated Jon like an actual child, some going as far as pinching his cheeks. After the first one, Jon immediately began to dodge the other ones, but he would occasionally fall victim to one of these  cruel, unusual touches. There was one man that Jon met that he decided he disliked quite a bit. The man had leaned over to Jon, smiling. “Hi! What’s your name, little lady?” He asked, his hands on his knees. Jon grimaced. “I’m not a girl. And my name’s Jon.” Jon replied, a correction he had been making for a bit. The man furrowed his eyebrows, but kept his smile still. “...Right.” The man got up and looked at Elias with a seemingly questioning look. Elias’ smile seemed to become a little more strained at the sight of him. “What is it, Thomas?” he asked politely. “Hasn’t Jon already introduced himself to you?” Thomas shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah. It’s nothing,” he decided. He walked away, which pleased Jon greatly. Elias looked over to the side, seeming to bite his cheek. “That fucking man. I can’t believe I thought he’d be good for the Eye…” He grumbled, straightening his green tie. 

After a blur of faces and names, Jon was finally released from being paraded around like a circus animal. He sighed heavily once Elias had said he was done, leaning against the banister. “How do you find this many people?” he asked, rubbing his temples. Elias looked at him with slight humor. “You seem very antisocial for a child, you know,” he commented. Jon glared at him. “You seem very smug for an eighty-year-old,” Jon remarked back. Elias raised his brows. “An eighty-year old?” he repeated. “Did I stutter? You sure look like an eighty-year-old, at least.” Jon continued. Elias still smiled down at him. “Sure, Jonathan.” Elias pulled up his sleeve, looking at the watch he wore underneath it. He cursed under his breath, his brows furrowing. “Is it time for that already?” he muttered. He looked back to Jon, frowning slightly. “Jon, since there’s, what did you say again?- ah right, ‘nothing to do here’, how about you and Micheal go to the library to pick out a book? I think you'll find that we have a wide selection to choose from.” Jon gave Elias a confused look. “Why? What are you doing that’s so private?” Jon questioned. “Nothing that should worry you,” Elias said, patting Jon on the head. Jon glared at him, and Elias took his hand off of Jon yet again. Maybe Elias wasn’t so good at learning after all. “Fine.” Jon decided begrudgingly, as there was nothing better to do. He looked over to Micheal, who looked a bit surprised at Elias’ suggestion. “Oh, y-yeah! I can take him to the library!” Micheal confirmed, as if Elias would have let him go do something else. Elias nodded and pushed Jon towards Micheal. “Thank you. Now, I need to leave for a bit. I’ll come back for Jon when I'm done.” he said. He then walked rather quickly to his office, which was quite amusing. As Elias left Jon’s line of vision, Jon looked over to the awkward assistant. He was, of course, looking at Jon awkwardly as they stood there together. “Should we go to the library?” Jon asked, attempting to give Micheal a place to start. “O-oh right. Yeah,” Micheal stammered, his cheeks coloring. He laughed a bit, and as he did, Jon felt chills run down his spine. His laugh wasn’t exactly the Distortion’s, but God Jon could see where it stemmed from. It was light, quite dainty in sound, and the echo of the Archive did not help Jon differentiate the two beings from his memory and his present. 

“Follow me, the library is just over here,” Micheal instructed, gesturing over to an opening door that led to the library. Jon nodded and walked behind Micheal, looking around the institute. Everything was just how he remembered it. The cracks on the wall, lines on the floor - everything about the institute was exactly how Jon had found it back in his researching days. And yet…all of it was supposed to be gone. Burned. Turned to ashes. But apparently, the Eye ‘didn’t want Jon to waste away,’ so here he was, walking in a supposed-to-be-gone building, being led by a supposed-to-be-dead man, as a supposed-to-be-adult kid. The situations Jon continued to find himself in were astounding, seeing as nobody should have this much bad luck. And yet he lived and breathed bad luck every day of his life. Hell, he even ate bad luck. Quite literally, if you ever saw one of the statements. Those things were filled with bad luck. The statement that had gotten Jon into this situation was satiating his hunger still, luckily. Jon’s stomach turned at the thought of that. God, he really was a monster, wasn’t he? “And here’s the library!” Micheal said, startling Jon out of his thoughts. “Mr. Bouchard has a really big collection of books, and I’m sure there’s something you can read somewhere around here…” he trailed off, looking around at the towering bookshelves that surrounded them both. Jon looked at Micheal with a slightly raised eyebrow, surprised at his optimism. He greatly doubted that there was anything a kid his age would be able to read, but luckily, Jon was an ‘old soul’. Jon walked down the shelves, dragging his fingertips along the spines of the books. Dictionaries, philosophy books, psychology books, all types of complicated books that filled every corner of the library. Poetry books also were hidden in the bookshelves, making Jon pause for a moment once he ran his finger against a blue one, scratched gold lettering on the spine. I remember him reading this. 

He was standing there, reading. He didn’t have anything to do, in his defense. But you got mad at him anyway, didn’t you? You yelled at him. Forced more statements onto his desk. But he dealt with it. He still brought you tea, he still smiled, he stupidly, stupidly stayed with you. He should have left. You’re useless. He was innocent. You pulled him into this. Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID STUPI- 

“J-Jon? Are you ok? What’s wrong?” Micheal stammered, looking at Jon with concern. He had paused in the middle of walking down the shelves, and Micheal wasn’t sure why. He moved for a moment, going to touch Jon on the shoulder, but stopped himself, unsure if he was even allowed to. He didn’t want to startle the kid. Mr. Bouchard said he had taken him as a foster child or, in his words, “Yes, something like that.” and had said that he was in a pretty bad home…Micheal took his hand back and began to fidget with it. Jon raised his hand up to his face and seemed to wipe it. “I’m fine,” he said, bringing his arms to his chest. He continued to walk, turning a corner to where Micheal could no longer see him. Micheal frowned. Should he follow him? No, probably not, that'd be weird. …wouldn't it? I mean, he’s just an adult trying to look after a child, right? Micheal sighed. He was terrible at this. He loved children, they were always so cute to play with, but Jon was different. He wasn’t just a child, he was a child who had gone through a lot already. And, Micheal couldn’t really tell from this angle, but it had seemed like Jon was…crying? But over what? Micheal hadn’t…oh dear, Micheal hadn’t done anything to make him cry, right? No, he hadn’t, he was pretty sure…right?... Micheal walked over to the spot Jon had lingered, going to look at the book. Before he did though, he heard a crackle beneath his foot. He looked down at his foot, beneath it laid a piece of paper, covered with a child-like scrawl. He made a small noise of surprise, leaning down to pick it up. Before he could, a small, freckled hand snatched it away as if it was a million dollars. Micheal looked up in surprise, meeting the gaze of a feral-eyed child in front of him. Micheal noticed the streak of way too premature silver hair that had fallen in front of his face. Jon tucked it behind his ear, concealing the streak yet again. “That-this…I uh…this is mine,” he stuttered, gripping the piece of paper more tightly. “Don’t touch it,” he quickly said. “I uh…yeah. Sorry. Do…do you mind if I ask what it is, though?” Micheal asked, fiddling with his shirt. “It’s none of your business,” Jon snapped, gripping the paper tighter. His eyes widened after he said that, looking up at Micheal. “I mean uh…it’s-it’s personal, alright?” He tried for a softer tone of voice, but it came out harsher than intended, making him wince a bit. 

Micheal continued to fidget awkwardly with his sleeve. “Right. Sorry. I was just curious,” he said apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. Jon opened his mouth to apologize, but dug his fingers into his arm to keep himself from saying something stupid that would make it worse. After a few seconds of silence, Jon made up his mind. “I should leave,” he said, starting to walk behind Micheal. Micheal looked over, seeming a bit startled by Jon’s sudden choice. “I- wait, Jon!” he called, causing Jon to run faster. He didn’t want to say something that would make things worse. Jon ran up to Elias’ office, berating himself all the way up the stairs. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everything he had ever said always made it worse. Every. Single. Dam. Time. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was useless. Every part of him. He didn’t deserve anything. He was goddamn useless. Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking IDIOT-  

When Jon threw open the door to Elias’ office, jaw clenched in an attempt to keep himself from doing something idiotic, like crying, he was not expecting to see a man sitting across from Elias. In the chair closest to the door sat a man who didn’t quite look like he belonged there. White hair, sky blue eyes, smile wrinkles on his face, he smirked at Elias, who simply smiled at him, his eye twitching slightly. When Jon walked in, they both turned to look at him, seeming startled. “Jon? What are you doing up here? I thought I told you to look for books with Micheal,” Elias said, giving Jon a strange look. Jon simply ignored him, turning to the man. “Who are you?” he asked, looking at the man with his sky-blue eyes. He had apparently been looking between Jon and Elias, perhaps trying to figure out what was going on between them. His eyes finally rested on Jon, seeming to observe him for a moment before a glimmer of amusement came into his eyes. That amusement seemed familiar… The man stuck out his hand with a smile, offering it to Jon. “My name’s Simon. Simon Fairchild. I’m one of Elias’....” He glanced at Elias. “Business partners.” Simon decided, turning his eyes back to Jon. Jon froze. Oh boy. This was…something Jon hadn’t thought about. Simon. The Vast avatar. The one Martin had asked Jon to kill in the world after. His eyes still glimmered with that slight amusement, the one he wore when he sped over to him and Martin, the one Jon had looked at before stealing a glance to his lover who squeezed his hand tighter, Martin glaring at the same sky-blue eyes with hatred, annoyance. The ones Jon had froze in front of. The one he was freezing in front of now. 

Simon was still staring at him with a bit of confusion when he came out of his quick flash of memories, his hand still out to shake. Jon kept his hands to himself, looking away from it. “And….you might be?” Simon then asked, taking his hand away once realizing that Jon was not taking it. “Jonathan. Jonathan Sims.” Jon said, crossing his arms over his chest. Simon raised an eyebrow. “Jonathan? That sounds more like a boy's name,” he commented. Jon scowled. “So? I’m a boy. That’s my name,” he defended, gripping his arms tighter. Simon looked over to Elias, who shrugged mildly. Simon made a small, ‘hm’ noise and turned back to Jon. “So, Jonathan, can I call you Jon?” Jon nodded. “Great.” Simon started to smile. “Tell me, do you like roller coasters?” he asked, his eyes curious. Jon pursed his lips, pondering the question. If he told Simon no, he didn’t like roller coasters, that would end up bad, most likely scoring him a place in the Vast…again. If he said, yes, he loved them, that could grab him a place in some kind of loophole that would end him up in the Vast yet again. Jon internally sighed and decided the second one might just get him on Simon’s good side, and that was the only thing he could wish for. So, Jon put on his happiest kid face, acting like a child. “I love roller coasters! They’re so fun!” he said happily, lying. 

Jon wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when he saw Simon’s eyes sparkle in excitement. 

“You do? How many roller coasters have you been on?” he asked, his smile expanding. “Uh….only one…but it was really fun!” Jon continued, trying to keep up his charade. A lie, of course. He had never been on a roller coaster as a child. But, he was pulled into Carowinds by his band members in his teenage life, and the roller coaster he was forced onto was pretty fun. And terrifying. But kinda fun! Before he threw up…but otherwise, again, pretty fun! Simon tilted his head. “Only one? Now that’s not enough for a kid! How old are you anyway, Jon?” Jon paused for a moment, mentally going over his answer twice to make sure he was saying the correct thing. “Eight,” he finally answered after a moment. Simon grinned. “Well Jon, I‘ll have to take you out to a theme park one day. If Elias here will let me,” he said, ruffling Jon’s hair. Jon somehow was able to restrain himself from biting his hand. Simon turned back to Elias, smiling. “Say Elias, you didn’t tell me you had a kid here! An adorable one too!” he commented, chuckling. “Not adorable…” Jon grumbled, but he wasn’t heard. “Yes, well, we had important things to discuss, and I didn’t see Jon being an important part of this discussion,” Elias said, a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Speaking of, Jon, why are you here? I sent you to go pick out a book with Micheal. He didn’t leave you, did he?” 

“No.” Jon said, a bit too quickly. Jon didn’t want Micheal to get punished for his actions. He didn’t want anyone to have to face the consequences of his actions. Not again. “I…I left when he wasn’t looking. I went to get my journal. Your book choices are boring,” Jon said, keeping his voice level, and adding that petty comment at the end just to continue being a minor nuisance. 

Before anyone could say anything else, Elias’ office door opened quickly, the air tousling Jon’s hair. They all looked to the door in surprise. 

“Ok Mr. Bouchard I’m really sorry but I can’t seem to find Jon because he ran off and I don’t really know why I think I might have scared him or maybe weirded him out but-” 

Micheal said this in such a quick succession that barely anyone in the room had time to process the last word before the next one came. He was cut off though, at the sight of a startled Jon standing in front of the door. He let out a sigh of relief, putting his hand on his heart as if to try and calm it. “Oh thank god-” Micheal breathed out, looking back at Jon as he leaned over. “I thought you got lost or something. It’s dangerous running off like that here, you know. This is a big building with lots of rooms. You could get hurt,” he said, looking at him with concern. His eyes then drifted over to the other people in the room, an amused looking old man and an annoyed one. “Micheal,” Elias greeted with a small nod. “We were just speaking about you.” Micheal managed an awkward smile, swallowing. “O-oh…you were…?” he asked, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Indeed. You need to keep a better eye on Jon. He’s quite a feisty child, you know,” Elias said calmly, keeping his gaze on Micheal. “I’m right here you know,” Jon snarled, glaring at Elias. He was ignored. 

Micheal nodded, rubbing his sleeve between his thumb and finger. “Y-yeah. Sorry, Mr. Bouchard,” he said, his eyes flickering over to Jon. Elias then turned his gaze to Jon as well, keeping it there. “Will you please actually stay with Micheal this time?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jon. Jon looked to the side with his arms folded, trying not to hold the gaze of those sharp silver eyes. As sharp and silver as that knife. Through his heart. Jon suppressed a shiver. “Fine. I don’t know why I came here anyway. It’s not like you're more interesting than your book choices,” Jon said, walking out of the door first. Micheal followed, and Jon could hear a slight huff before the door was closed again. 

Heh. Point for me.  

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

                                                   POV CHANGE 

Elias closed the door, locking it this time around, as he had apparently forgotten to last time. “So…you’ve been keeping yourself busy, huh old pal?” Simon asked from behind him, the same damned smile plastered on his face. Elias turned around, walking back to his seat. “I suppose I have,” Elias simply said, sitting down and crossing his legs. “Now, can we get back to the topic of-” 

“That child - Jon, right?” Simon interrupted, his eyes tracing along the door and down to the spot where Jon had been. His eyes held a new light, interest, but…the slight smile he had earlier was gone. His eyes had a more prominent glow in them now, like the blinding light of a pure blue sky. “He seems to be quite an interesting lad. Why exactly did you adopt him?” he asked, staring straight at Elias. Elias didn’t show that his body tensed, but his fingers flinched slightly. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Simon tutted at him, resting his head on his hand. “You’re no fun. I just want to hear the gossip!” he whined, regaining his sly grin. “And plus…he smells of the Vast. You can really see it. Falling, falling, falling…” Simon said, trailing off and looking back at the door. Elias looked at it as well, but he could see more. He could see Micheal and Jon talking to each other, though Micheal was doing more of the talking. They were walking to the cafeteria, perhaps to sit or get something to eat. Elias stared at Jon with his many eyes. Jon’s own eyes, big and brown, with a strange habit of glinting in the light. His strange vitiligo and behavior, his freckles that he seemed to mindlessly pick at, as if his nails could latch onto small holes in his skin as he fidgeted. “Smells of the Vast…Reeks of the Lonely…” it had to just be them, as all Elias could find in him was a deep mark of the Eye, the only thing that was important to him. But then again…it did seem that his aura of Fear was different than other people, not to mention other children…Elias shook his head slightly, closing his eyes. That wasn’t possible, being marked by multiple Fears. It didn’t make sense. 

“I think you’re losing your touch, old friend,” Elias said, tilting his head while looking at him. 

“He’s just a kid.”

Chapter Text

That night, Jon got to remember the effects of being an introvert first hand and passed out on his bedroom floor with his clothes still on, his back against the wall. This had been after he had reluctantly forced dinner down his throat, only because Elias was looking at him heavily and he needed something to distract himself with. When Elias found him like this the next morning, he quite frankly was unsure how to feel. Elias ended up deciding on disappointment, and a hint of exasperation for flavor, before he turned on the lights Jon had the small amount of decency to turn off before his sleeping arrangements were put into play. Jon’s body surprisingly did end up showing signs of life, as he rubbed his eyes with his brows furrowed from the harsh light. “Jonathan. It’s time to wake up,” Elias said, placing his hands behind his back. Jon grumbled something along the lines of ‘Well no shit, Sherlock,’ . Elias sighed. “You know, for a child, you have quite a vulgar vocabulary.” Jon said nothing to this, just wiped one of his eyes and glared at Elias with the other, more aware one. Elias simply looked back, observing the boy’s crouched position on the floor. He looked to the bed, which he noted, like yesterday, looked completely untouched, not a crease in sight. “Have you slept on the floor ever since you got here? Along with staying in your clothing while sleeping?” he added, looking down at Jon’s clothing with distaste. Jon crossed his arms, now glaring at Elias with both green-tinged brown eyes. “So?” 

“That’s not healthy. Nor is it sanitary.” 

“Why do you care?” Elias sighed yet again. It seems that he was going to be doing that a lot more now that Jon was around. “Because, unlike what you believe, I am your caregiver now, and I want to keep you healthy and safe. Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, pinching his nose bridge. Jon stayed quiet, looking off into the distance as if thinking. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, thinking better of it. “I’m gonna get changed. Leave.” Jon said, adding the last part as if it wasn’t implied. Elias left the room with another sigh, going to cook a hopefully edible breakfast out of the very few he knew how to make. 

“Is that so hard to believe?” 

Yes. You’d be surprised just how hard it is. Jon thought as he stood up from his sitting position, his whole body aching. He stretched in an attempt to work out the soreness, while he thought about the past day. No Gertrude, thank whatever luck he has, only an assistant sent to fetch Micheal, which led to confusion, which led to a hasty explanation, which led to more confusion and a still baffled assistant sent back with the hasty explanation. Micheal sighed after the encounter, looking back at Jon and smiling slightly. “Sorry about that. Ms. Gertrude’s pretty strict with the job. She’s a bit like Mr. Bouchard, if I’m honest.She's kind at heart but can be...really terrifying, sometimes..." Micheal gave an attempt at a laugh, his eyes drifting for a moment before looking back at Jon. Jon hadn't ever really seen his predecessor, not even in photos, but from statements about her and her recorded conversations, Jon had to admit the woman did seem pretty badass in her ways of being an archivist, and very respectable. Way more respectable than him, at least. 

Jon finished putting on his clothing, a baggy shirt his grandmother had gotten him. He wore shorts underneath it and, after a moment of consideration, he decided to take a hair tie he found in his bag and tie his hair up in a bun, the way he always used to. It wasn’t really amazing comfort, he’ll admit, but it was some kind of comfort nonetheless. And honestly, he needed every bit of comfort he could get right now. He left a strand of hair loose to fidget with, as he was sure he was going to do that at some point anyways. He twirled the piece around his finger, taking a breath as he looked at his faint reflection in the window. He tried to focus on looking at his hair, making sure it was tied up correctly and everything, but his body was too distracting not to focus on. It was as if he was in the Stranger’s domain again, he was technically still in his own skin, but at the same time it felt like he wasn’t himself in any way, shape, or form. His body was just trying to act as his, but everything else told him that it was something else, not him. The conundrum of being a child only fed his dysphoria, making him want to squirm out of his own skin. He forced his eyes away from the window before he could meet his own eyes. He hadn’t seen them yet. And he wanted to keep it that way. 

Jon walked downstairs, still trying to organize his mind in a way he could actually work with. Of course, most of his thoughts were filled with his classic self-loathing, and then there was a part that basically had a bunch of attempts at plans to figure out what to do in a pile of crumpled paper balls, and then there was the infamous, oh my god what are we doing w e can’t fucking do something like stopping the apocalypse we’re the reason it’s like this we’re just gonna kill everyone again oh GO- and besides, that line of desperate confusion usually spilled into his thoughts of self loathing anyways, so it wasn’t very distinct. But, Jon’s always been terrible at organization, and so when he got to the bottom of the stairs nothing had changed except his mood, which had only gotten worse. He sighed in annoyance and made his way to the kitchen, where Elias was reading the newspaper and eating scrambled eggs. Jon’s nose wrinkled slightly as he saw this. He really didn’t like the texture of scrambled eggs. 

As soon as Jon sat down at the table, Elias began speaking. “We have to go to the archive again today. I have more work to complete. I’m going to entrust you to Micheal again, as long as you promise not to run off,” Elias said, taking a sip of his coffee. “And if I don’t?” Jon retorted, because he was feeling bitchy today. Elias looked at him, the faintest hints of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Then I’ll entrust you to my head archivist. I doubt you’ll be getting away then,” he said. Jon coughed, almost choking on his own inhaled spit. “Your- what?!” Jon choked out, trying to act like he really didn't hear and like his voice definitely wouldn’t be five octaves higher than usual if it wasn’t for his lack of oxygen. “Ms. Robinson, my head archivist. I’m quite certain that you won't be getting away from her watchful gaze,” Elias confirmed, smiling slightly. Well, that was great. Now Jon just had to pray that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed and run off, or he would have to face a piece of this messed up puzzle that he wasn’t even sure where to begin with, much less if he could start with it. Jon looked down at his food, and decided that if he was already miserable he might as well grant himself the mercy of not having to suffer through the texture of scrambled eggs. He instead opted to use his water as an excuse not to respond and dig himself a deeper grave, which, Jon realized, was the first proper drink of water he had drunk in quite a while. He wasn’t that surprised nor concerned however. He never remembered to drink water in any situation, which is probably the reason why Martin would always bring him- Jon stopped drinking his water for a moment, and put it down with a slight sigh. Right… He thought. I really need to get my thoughts under control… Elias looked over at him, raising a brow. “Jonathan..?” he asked, sitting up more. Jon quickly regained his glare and looked at him with annoyance. "What?" Elias observed him curiously, examining his face closely. “Nothing…Just…” he stopped again, seeming to consider his words carefully. “You looked like you were…drifting off somewhere, for a second,” he said finally. 

Jon, being decidedly in the mood of a grumpy kid, did not respond to this sentence. After breakfast (which just consisted of Elias properly eating and occasionally attempting small talk with Jon, for some odd reason, and Jon simply drinking water and mildly glaring at his ‘inedible’ food) Elias took up the plates, noting Jon’s untouched food. He looked at it with mild annoyance. “This is the second meal you’ve skipped, Jon,” he said, putting his hand on his hip as he displayed the plate. “Care to explain why?” Jon crossed his arms. “I don’t like the texture of scrambled eggs,” he said plainly. Elias furrowed his brows for a moment, but didn’t say anything about it. “And you couldn't have asked me for something else? You’re normally very vocal about your opinions,” Elias questioned, raising an eyebrow. Jon shrugged. “I just didn’t think about that.” Elias signed, putting down the food on the table and resting his palms on it. “Listen, Jon. This relationship is going to have to have at least some form of trust or mutual understanding. I’m taking care of you now, whether you like it or not. I’m trying my best to make it comfortable and be understanding. After all, I have yet to question how you present yourself, yet you seem to relentlessly refuse to trust me, and at this point I’m quite baffled,” he said, continuing to stare at Jon. Jon just stared at his glass of water with a small glare, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I have no idea why you insist on not trusting me, as you have no reason to do so. Please enlighten me, Jonathan," he demanded. Jon continued to look at the water. “I mean, you’re really creepy. I saw you once, and next thing I know, my perfectly good life with my grandmother has been whisked away from me and I’m under your control, with your first line of action being questioning me. Why should I trust you?” he asked, finally looking up at Elias. “Because I haven’t questioned you further, I’ve given you proper space, and I didn’t take you from your grandmother,” Elias countered. Jon gritted his teeth. “Bullshit! It’s not just a kooky coincidence that a few days after I saw you, you suddenly had adopted me and took me in! Plus, you even lied to Catlynn and admitted that you did so later! And it’s only been two days, why should I trust you?!” 

“Why should you not?” Elias hissed. Jon fell silent. “You’re right. It’s only been two days. So, neither of us can get a good read on each other. But you’ve been suspicious of me from day one, going so far as to say that I’m ‘not who I say I am’ and that I’m a ‘monster'," Elias said. “I only lied to Catlynn because I wasn’t thinking about our encounter in the heat of the moment, Jon.” Jon crossed his arms and looked to the side. Bullshit, bullshit, total bullshit, h e thought to himself. Elias observed him, then sighed. “We have to leave for the archives. We’ll talk about this later, Jonathan," Elias said, walking away from the table and grabbing the plate of scrambled eggs. 

Well, great start to the day. 

Jon hopped into the car in the backseat once again, and while he looked out the window, his nails would yet again meet the leather. As he stared off, he started to, unfortunately, think. And, as you should know, thinking was never a good thing when it came to Jon. He stared at the pavement, acutely aware of Elias stepping into the car and starting it, slowly starting to drift into the hellscape that was his mind. 

He hated it. He always hated it. Getting wrapped up in his head, his own hatred, his own pain. He loathed his own head. But they made that better, somehow. It wasn’t much, but when Tim came in and insisted they went to lunch with the others, he didn't focus on his own thoughts, rather the conversations, which was…a nice change. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but when Sasha came in to talk about her day, or to remind Jon to eat, he snapped out of his slowly spiraling mindset, and it felt a bit better. It wasn’t a perfect heal, but when Martin brought him tea, when he double checked something on a statement with him, when he accidentally said something so wrong that Jon had to correct him, he could forget about his head, he could forget about his pain, if only for a small second. 

Jon closed his eyes, pursing his lips. Why did his mind always go back to them ? Without fail, no matter what situation he was in….Jon sighed, glaring at the window. 

Elias looked back at his new passenger from the front, seeing him wearing his signature ‘I-am-pissed-to-live-another-day-so-I’ll-make-it-everyone else’s (Elias’)-problem’ glare, directing it at the window. Elias observed this boy through his mirror, staring intently at his eyes still focused on the window. He had spaced out during breakfast, which Elias would typically ignore, but…it was different. When he was focused on his food and what things he had to check up on in the Archives, he had picked up on the distinct smell of the Lonely. Damp air, cold but in a way…soft. He at first had thought it was the remnants of Peter’s visit the day before, but that wouldn’t make any sense. After a few moments, he noticed the fear was coming from Jon, who was simply staring at his eggs in silence. He broke Jon out of it after a moment, and the scent faded away quickly. Elias continued to stare at Jon curiously, before looking back at the road, continuing to wait at the light they had stopped at. He mindlessly hummed a tune, thinking to himself. It was probably just remnants of Peter’s earlier visit - Elias was pretty sure he had read somewhere that kids soak up and react strongly to the environment around them - but then again, there was the fact of Simon saying that Jon ‘smelled of Vast’...Elias shook his head, scoffing to himself. He was probably thinking too hard about this. He had seen it clear as day in the boy’s eye, I mean, no other Fear would make someone’s eye flash such a vibrant shade of green! He was obviously a catalyst for his God, and he would use it to his advantage. But…what if he did have connections to other Fears? Elias shook his head once more. He was acting foolish. There was no way that someone could have connections to other Fears, he would have figured that out years ago, right? Elias jumped when he heard a honk behind him, glaring at the car that made the offending sound. He heard a snort from his passenger, who had apparently been conveniently knocked out of his trance long enough to snicker at Elias. Elias simply continued to drive, but unfortunately, his passenger didn’t continue to stay silent. “Aren’t you the head of a research institute? Shouldn’t you know how to pay attention to things?” Jon asked, a grin on his face. Elias sighed with a bit of annoyance. Jon could get to him easier than he would have liked. “Aren’t you a child? Shouldn’t you respect your elders?” Elias retorted. Jon stuck out his tongue in response, which only earned another sigh from Elias. He seemed to grow more childish every interaction they had. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why they hired such an old man to run a whole institute. You’re probably becoming senile,” Jon said casually, as if he was making innocent small talk. Elias let out a breath of annoyance. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the floor today, I see.” he said, continuing to drive. Jon rolled his eyes, turning his head to look out the window once more. Elias focused back on the road, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Why oh why did his patron have to send him a ritual in the form of a child? 

Elias was cooped back in his office again, per usual, and Jon was sitting in the library with Micheal. Who was stupidly trying to make conversation. 

“So, Jon,” Micheal began, giving Jon his trademarked nervous smile. “How has living with Mr. Bouchard been?” Jon sat next to him on the bench they had found, trying to distance himself from the statements Micheal had brought to work on. “Fine," he answered. Micheal awkwardly nodded in response, and a moment of silence fell over them. “...You know, I haven’t really gotten to learn much about you yet!” he said, looking over at Jon again. “Let’s start with….Oh! What’s your favorite color?” Jon stared at him. This felt…somewhat wrong? He was in a child’s body, sure, but he had actually been an adult for many years before that, and having the inquiry of what his favorite color was didn’t really make sense to him because of that. Nonetheless- “.....black….” he said, giving Micheal a bit of a curious look. Micheal smiled. “Cool! My favorite is yellow,” he said, smiling happily. Jon stared at him. Was…was this how Micheal acted with everyone? His behavior felt almost like…like a kindergarten teacher. What was an attitude like that doing in a damn institute? And not to mention, what was it doing being wasted on the Sp- Jon’s grip tightened on his arm, his short fingernails barely brushing the skin. He was not going to go through that train of thought with the victim right in front of him. “Ok, how about this….what’s your favorite subject?” Micheal asked next, breaking Jon out of his thoughts. “Reading…” he answered. “That’s a nice subject! My favorite is art,” Micheal replied happily. Jon blinked in surprise at the simple answer. Huh. That…made a lot of sense, actually. “What’s your favorite book? Since you like reading,” Micheal questioned, tilting his head. Jon shrugged, trailing his eyes to his hands, to watch them fiddle with one another. “I don’t really have one,” he said. Micheal gave him a questioning look. “Don’t have one? Why not?” Jon shrugged once more. “I just…don't,” he said again. Micheal frowned a bit. “Huh…what about authors?” Jon shook his head. “I don’t like reading the same author twice. Their style gets too dull,” Jon explained. 

Micheal gave him a curious look, but didn't press him about it. He looked back to the statements Gertrude had sent him with, and clicked the pen he has to start making notes and summarizing it, or making notes to where it should be categorized. Jon looked at them curiously, leaning his head down on his knee."What are those about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. I mean, technically he was a child, so technically he could get away with asking indulgent questions like that. Plus, it'd help if he knew what exactly was going on at the moment with all the Fears. With all of his thoughts going in circles, it was difficult to remember exact dates for every statement. Annoyingly. Micheal looked over at him, pausing. "I uhh..." he started, looking down at the papers in his lap. "They....hm..." he tried again, looking like he was trying very hard to come up with an explanation. Jon sighed slightly. "Just tell me what it's about," he said. Micheal fumbled for a moment more, but then sighed slightly. "It's...about a guy who had a uh...well, let's say a nightmare about someone being in his bedroom for a long time, so he put in his statement." Micheal explained. "Huh," Jon murmured. Dark. He thought a bit numbly, as if routine. Well, not ‘as if’. “What happened to him?” Jon questioned. Micheal paused again, then quickly decided on the answer: “Well, after a while, he finally was able to face his fear and get over his nightmares!” he happily informed. Jon frowned a bit more. A lie. Obviously. But he didn’t press. After all, he wouldn’t get many answers. Not now, at least. 

Jon swung his feet while he looked around the library, his perfectly fine 100% brown eyes darting from corner to corner. There were two floor to ceiling bookshelves a few feet away from them, filled with books and loose pages. He could see the wood of the other shelves poking out as well, all lined up perfectly beside each other with not an inch of difference. Back in his researching days, Jon was always tempted to just walk into this library and lose himself in it, slotting out the dust-covered titles and piling them in a cold, quiet corner to read until the words floated off the page. Elias probably would have liked that as well, Jon thought, his expression souring. Well, he’d just have to dog-ear all of the pages this time around. Speaking of - Jon turned to look at Micheal, who was sucking on the tip of his pen to get it to work. That was…probably unhealthy. “Can I go look at books again?” he asked, ignoring the strange habit. In Micheal’s defense, Jon used to do that too. …Still probably unhealthy. The blond looked over at the boy, taking the pen away from his mouth. He glanced at the library as Jon mentioned it. “I don’t know…Mr. Bouchard told me that I had to watch you this time, and I’m still working on this statement,” he said, nervousness spiking his voice. “I won’t try to run away this time. I’ll come back after I find a book,” Jon compromised. Micheal bit the side of his cheek, glancing at the library once more. He sighed, looking back at Jon. “Fine. I’m almost done with this statement, so I’ll come to check on you when you’re finished if you’re not back by then," he decided. Jon nodded, hopped off the bench , and starting to head through the maze of bound pages and ink. “Don’t wander too far!” Micheal cautioned, already tapping his fingers on the paper. That man was way too anxiety ridden for his own good. Jon wandered through the oak bookshelves, eventually walking into a slot between two of them. He ran his fingertips over the spines, the pads growing darker as they collected dust from the titles. He continued to watch the letters and colors of the books pass by, waiting for something to catch his eye--...when he felt his body freeze as his eyes snagged on a book. The waxy cardboard tainted by the feeling of the broken-in spine felt horribly familiar on his hand. He could feel goosebumps raise on his skin as the tips of his fingers instinctively attempted to dig in. He stared at the pastel paint on the spine, wishing he had a lighter to burn the book and everything else down with him. The different colored letters almost seemed mocking.

A Guest for Mr. Spider.  

Chapter Text

Jon scowled, snatching his hand back. Oh, splendid . He’d been killed, thrown back in time, adopted by his worst enemy, and now this?! Can’t a guy catch a break? He gave the book a withering glare. “You,” he hissed, as if the book could hear the bitterness in his voice. 

Though, knowing this book, it probably felt and relished in his pain. 

And fear .

“You’ve marked me here already, what more could you want?” He demanded. The cardboard, of course, remained answerless, but Jon pressed on nonetheless. “Come to traumatize me again, huh?” He says, his voice dropping with mockery. “What’s the point?” He says, his voice dropping with mockery. …Ok, yeah, sure. Maybe talking to a book was petty, and maybe it was childish and stupid, to do something like that when he was supposed to be doing something at least mildly productive, but Jon was tired. So, so tired. He had been planning for so long, what was the point? He had lost Sasha. He had lost Tim. He had lost Martin, hell, he’d lost everyone. He was just…so…so…tired. 

[And truly, that was valid. ….but-] 

Tired to the point where he didn’t notice where a part of his brain wandered, question if everything would be better if instead, he just-- 

A house. Black and white, a spider in the middle. 

Turn the page. (It was like he was on marionette strings.) 

Arms flailed. 

Turn the page. (But why should he resist?) 

Continuation. It was like they were moving. 

Turn the page. (Didn’t this happen before?) 

Knock. 

Knock. 

The spider stood still. 

Who is it, Mr. Spider? 

Turn the page. 

A fly in a suit stands in the blacked out door, holding a box. 

It’s Mr. Bluebottle, and he’s brought you a cake.

Turn the page.

A sickly pale slice sits in the box, the fly still standing there with a concerned face. 

…

Mr. Spider doesn’t like it. 

(The Ä̴͉͉̦̥́͗̏͊̂̿̿̆̈͝͠͠r̴̡̛̝̮͇̮̳͍̺͖͚̊̈̆̽͐̈́̀͛́͊̃͠͝c̸̦̝̗͚̗͍̣͓̈͘̕͜h̷̢̡͔̻̜̫̜̤͆̆̉̆̔̃̔̀͛̀̚̚i̶̡̨̬̗̲̥̰͈̟̣̘͇̗̇v̷̡̻̾̐͝e̶̢̛͚̙͔̟̰̼̗̦̩̣̹͕̻͐̀̃̈́͑͐̔̓̍̋́͆͜͠ felt bile rise in his throat as he flipped the page with his too-small fingers, staring at the ink on the white as the spider’s legs moved, binding the creature away from sight. He could practically hear the squelching of webs, sticking and pulling, stretching and snapping as it was wrapped and constrained. 

He could practically see the way the spider leaned down and bit. The way its stomach grew bigger with each painstakingly slow biting movement.

But he continued to flip. He was too deep now.) 

A spot is on the door, now. Like spilled ink.

Knock. 

Knock. 

Who is it, Mr. Spider?

A fly stands at the door, a bruised yellow dress drawn onto her body. 

It’s Mrs. Fruit, and she’s brought you some flowers.

They’re pale and pink, wilted and dying.

…

Mr. Spider doesn’t eat flowers.

 
Strings flew, the white substance growing over the black ink of the page. A vase of flowers sits on his table. A red ink covers them.  

(...didn’t…didn’t it used to be brown?) 

His arms move and flail, constructing a web bigger than his own cave. 

(Was that his fault? Would it have been his b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶---ink splattered on that page, if he didn’t let him di-) 

Knock. 

Knock. 

His own hands were getting impatient. 

Who is it, Mr. Spider? 

Two weeping flys stand there, one in overalls, one small and young. 

It’s Mr. Horse, and he’s brought you his son. 

. . . 

Mr. Spider wants more. 

(T̸̢̹̗̣̬͈̱̝͉̥̓̈́̌̀̏̔̔̋̕h̴̢̨̦͙̬͎̬͙̜̊̔̅̽̀́̒́̐̃̑̿͘̚͠e̶̛̠͇͙̹̹͎̪͔͔̪̱͇̿̋͗̑ ̶̨̜̞͑ A̶̖̜̲̱̯̣̲̥̗͔̞̘̓̈́̊͆́̇̂͑̀͐̚͝͝͝ř̴̢̪̩͔̘̯̦̦̰͇͓̱̹c̷͓͇̜̫̄͒̏͐̏̓́̐͗͝ḧ̴̥͍́̀͒̇͐̂́̄̚i̵̢̧̦͍͕̦̥̱̟͌͒̀̅̏̉͌̅̐̕͜v̷̨̢̹̫̯̪̳̩̅̄̐̑̅ë̶̜̹͖͈̞̄̈́͆̂̓͠ had to dig his nails in to pull open the next page. The whole thing was sticky with blood and web, thin strings of wetness connecting the thick cardboard. His hands shook, and he wanted to vomit.) 

(The spider’s hands moved, and T̸̢̹̗̣̬͈̱̝͉̥̓̈́̌̀̏̔̔̋̕h̴̢̨̦͙̬͎̬͙̜̊̔̅̽̀́̒́̐̃̑̿͘̚͠e̶̛̠͇͙̹̹͎̪͔͔̪̱͇̿̋͗̑ ̶̨̜̞͑ A̶̖̜̲̱̯̣̲̥̗͔̞̘̓̈́̊͆́̇̂͑̀͐̚͝͝͝ř̴̢̪̩͔̘̯̦̦̰͇͓̱̹c̷͓͇̜̫̄͒̏͐̏̓́̐͗͝ḧ̴̥͍́̀͒̇͐̂́̄̚i̵̢̧̦͍͕̦̥̱̟͌͒̀̅̏̉͌̅̐̕͜v̷̨̢̹̫̯̪̳̩̅̄̐̑̅ë̶̜̹͖͈̞̄̈́͆̂̓͠ could just make out the words.) 

Mr. Spider wants another guest for dinner.                                                 “HEY!”

It                                                                                              “KID!-GODDAMMIT-”

í̸̞s̶̻̃                                                     “Of course you had the balls to be in my Archive-”

P̴̥̐̃͐ǫ̵͓̬͝ḷ̶̢͆̓ȉ̸̫̅̿͝t̶̹͇̺̟̅̾̕ḙ̴̩̅ ̷̖̳̖͇͗                                                      “Where’s that bastard when you need him?!-”

Ţ̴̳̱̦͒͐͐͠͝O̴̢͚̞͌̐̍͐͂́̕                                                           “ALRIGHT, LISTEN HERE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

   K̶̛̜̼̬͍̞̰͈͇̩͔̥̠͚̬̝͎̣̙̤̇̈́̆̋͋̅͐̀̈̈͛̔̑̍̔̓̍̐̃̆͐̃͂̃̓̎͌̐̈́̀̈̽͆͘̚̚͘͜͝͝͠Ṇ̷̢͓͓͙̻̺̳̩͓̀͋̄̉̈́̈̂͌͛̈́̏̀̊̐͌̃̌̋̓̈̔̅̔́̓͐̔̚̕͜͠ͅȎ̸̡̧̯̤͈̖̝̣͎̞̘̞̳͓͙̣͇̘̏̌̉͒́͋̅̎̀̂̔̑̀͐̑͂̈́͑̃̚͜͝C̷̢̢̧̡̛̟̲̱̻͍̲̳͙̬͉̮̲̠͇͖͔̝̖̟̰̹̗̳͇̻̘̜̲͓̙͚͈̞͖̻̩̹̲͓̦̠͓̯͆͌̈́̓̆͋̅̇̓̂̔̌̄̈̊̃̈͂͐͐̓̓͊̈́̃͌̐̈́͊̚̚͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝Ḱ̶̢̧̡̢̡̧̖̫̥̱̥̫͈̫͖͎̤͕͍͍̺̤̠̥͓̣̺̝̍͗̾̎̊͝ͅ---

“OUT OF MY DAMN ARCHIVE!”

Jon gasped as he was thrown back, his back hitting the carpeted floor as air was pushed out of his lungs. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw a woman with grey hair tied up into a bun stand in front of him, an emerald green dress that went to her ankles being a stark contrast to her furious expression and the lighter in her grasp. She stood in front of a door, two long, sharp limbs hesitating outside of it. The book was held tightly in her steady hands as she glowered at the door, a look that seemed like it could turn a person to dust. “I never said you were allowed in my damn library, did I?” She hissed, her tone condescending, like a teacher lecturing a child. “Leave. Now. I think we’d all prefer I locked you up rather than burn you, no?” The arms continued to sit there, before they slowly pulled themselves in, the innocent-looking wooden door closing slowly behind them. The woman sighed, blowing out the lighter and tucking the book under her arm swiftly. She then turned her attention to Jon, who still laid on the floor. 

Jon had heard about Gertrude before. In fact, she was all that he heard about while researching. 

He’d met her once, too, while he was working in the library part of the archive. She had been looking for more books, and had passed Jon while he was reshelving books. She had given him a look, her grey eyes analyzing and piercing, feeling magnified under the lens of her glasses. “What?” He had demanded, raising a brow at her expectantly. She stared at him, looking him up and down before smirking. “You’re a suck up, aren’t you?” She had asked with amusement, the green-tinted beads on her glasses lanyard clinking softly as she tilted her head. Jon blinked in surprise, before scowling. After having to deal with Tim and Sasha teasing him for being ‘in love with Elias’, now this random old lady was calling him a suck-up too? “What do you mean by that, hm?” He demanded, adjusting his own glasses. Gertrude had just chuckled to herself, slotting out a book from the shelf. “You really shouldn’t be. Elias is no one to honor.” She said, her eyes flashing with a hint of darkness. She looked back at Jon, her eyes firm. “Don’t treat him like something to honor, please. Trust me. You’ll regret it.” She said, her voice carrying genuine care in it. But Jon ignored it, of course. He was always an idiot. “I’ll keep it in mind,” He said dismissively, looking back at his stack of books. He could hear Gertrude pause, before letting out a sigh of disappointment. Little did he know how deep that disappointment would run. 

And now she was here. Again. Looking down at him with those stern grey eyes. Jon swallowed nervously, his veins running with fear and anxiety. 

Gertrude offered out her hand, the other still firmly holding the book, as if it was a wild animal that would squirm out of her grasp any moment. …which was probably a good idea, now that he thought of it like that. “Are you alright?” She asked, her voice not exactly warm--but not exactly cold. Jon hesitantly reached his vitiligo-splashed hand out to meet hers. “I-y-yes. I am. Thank you.” He stammered out, hoisting himself up with her weight. Gertrude nodded. “You shouldn’t be wandering around establishments like this, you know. It’s dangerous,” She said, pulling away from him. Jon nodded in a haze, looking around the place. He was still in the library--that was a plus. It seemed like he had found himself in a far corner, where the windows lacked and the dim light only came from the amber glow of the lights above them. It seemed very closed off, and no one would have noticed him if he walked back here ...he shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if Gertrude didn’t come at the time she did. As his thoughts were starting to catch up again, his heart still pumping fast, Gertrude looked him up and down. “You’re Elias’ kid, aren’t you?” She asked, tilting her head. Jon looked up, his mind having to work double-time to decipher her words. “I-uh-yes. Well--not his kid, he just…I’m just--I’m just living with him. At the moment.” 

Gertrude gave him a look. “...Uh-huh. Well, you’ve been taking my employee’s time quite a bit. I don’t see why, if he can’t even protect you from something as simple as wandering off,” She scoffed judgmentally. “Who am I kidding. The man can barely even protect himself,” She muttered, more to herself than Jon. She looked off for a moment, before sighing and looking back at Jon. “Well, we should probably find him before he has a heart attack for his own ignorance, and get you some tea before you have a heart attack. At least you have a decent reason,” She said, adjusting her square glasses. “Well, we should get going,” She sighed, running a hand down her dress to smooth it. “After all, the tea won’t brew itself, and I don’t think I want to see you when this ordeal finally kicks in.” Jon gave a weak laugh at that, before his legs gave out, and he fell against the wall, sliding down as he continued to laugh.