#obviously Gerri finds him and tells him she loves him the way he is
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Well Jesse said it, no one truly changes and indeed nothing really changed in the couples’ dynamics in the end.
The show dangled a possible happy ending for Connor and Willa for a second but of course it tears it away in the finale. We already see Willa squirming under Connor’s grip, grappling with the “sexy second week itch”. Roman is particularly repulsed by that pairing; buying a young escort-type woman and parading her as somehow worthy, as a ‘wife’. There’s something so offensive to him about that. We never see Roman give Gerri anything of monetary value. He’d never want to buy her, he’s desperately attracted to how real she is, to the experience and things she can teach him, in every possible way (sex & advice). He wants what she is willing to give, not what he can buy. The only time money comes into their relationship is the exit package (pass!) and even that is essentially just another lesson she’s teaching him. You wanna rule with emotion, the next person will take you for everything you’re worth!
Shiv's adoption of Tom remains partly strategic. It moves from "not being betrayed" to "holding onto power", it has very little to do with love. Shiv continues to push sadistically to see how much she can get away with, how close patriarchy will let her get to being her own woman. Then, when Tom or Logan tells her she’s gone too far, she folds. And Tom loves her enough or loves being in the fold enough that it works in the succession universe, it becomes a deal of somewhat terrifying equals. And that was what succession was all about. Capitalism, patriarchy and the oppression of women. What men demand things like love and care from women, but they actually lose any genuine connection the second they take a woman's agency away from her… Sure you get her by your side physically for a while but you crucially loose her very desire to be there.
Roman and Gerri’s relationship remains a study in longing and sensuality. They are barely featured in the finale but Roman sets the tone by going down on mummy’s cheese. Oh succession and its cheesy genitals, the ricotta dick! The grilled cheese with a sucked dick! The whole kitchen scene is obviously an allegory about the lack of food and incidentally love Caroline has supplied to her children. It’s only scraps, rot and fire going into that smoothie. But Oedipus-Roman, doesn’t want the smoothie, he wants the tasty morsel of maternal love which isn't for him. He doesn’t bite by the way, he only licks. Unlike his last second on screen, he can’t go as far as actual consumption. Did he want Lobster? No, he wanted the most love. Did he want steak? No! He wanted to be picked above Kendall!!
Speaking of what’s not for him... He then has to watch Gerri talk about the pleasures of a slow screw. It’s a sudden exposure to her sexuality, a validation of his intuition that she likes being superior to her conquests, sexually, spiritually. Something he knows he can give her alongside the painful realisation that she opens up - to others - in that way.
Then the office breakdown. I still look good, I still look the part “Why isn’t it me?” What are the rockstar and the molewoman when the rockstar is just a big sack of bullshit? And Ken reaffirming he’s not good enough, he’s pure emotion, he doesn’t have the drive, he only ever wanted a ride or die.
All culminating in his only true, almost naturalistic documentary-style consumption of the season; Gerri’s martini. Drinking in the quasi love of his life (I could do a whole post about how wild it is that Jesse ‘I don’t want to tell you what to think’ Armstrong said something so totalitarian). This isn't the first connection between an older woman’s sexual appetite and her drink of choice this season! Remember Roman’s reaction to the image of Nan liking her wine like she likes her men!
Sure, the outer layer of that scene shows Roman, having lost the company, his lover/mentor's good will, and any way he knows of interacting with his siblings in a bar drinking alone, overly dressed, old Hollywood style. A potential regression to his sad playboy lifestyle (Jesse), or the start of a hopeless spiral of alcohol abuse (Mark - who has since then said he saw how Roman’s ending could be perceived as hopeful).
Upon closer inspection, his inferiority/beta complex, his emotions, his desire to be loved, his desire NOT to be in charge/on top - everything that his dad loathed to see in him - are finally showing through the physical scars on his face. He gave it a valiant try, but he couldn’t keep parading as whomever Logan wanted him to be and he realises that it makes him an unworthy heir and in the same breath, access to Gerri is disallowed. It still overwhelms him with emotion, but in the same way Oedipus took his own eyes and couldnt see Jocasta and longer, Roman only gets to see Gerri through screen and glass anymore. He demanded she believed he was as good and as ruthless as his dad and he turned out not to be. Objectively, it’s not a prerequisite to Gerri’s feelings for him as she responds to his pathos way more than she does to Logan's death, but his psyche is convinced he no longer deserves to be in her presence.
So he does the only thing he can do to keep her as close as he needs. Don't be fooled by the luxurious, civilised quality of the drink, this is a biological need, pure sustenance (Get her inside of him, under his skin, into his bloodstream and pumping to his heart). He bites his lip as the liquid enters his mouth, swallowing dramatically, loving the burn & hating the pain.
And we’ve come full circle on the theme of consuming each other. From the partnership-worthy mutual cannibalistic proposal of season 2, to the toxic if slightly castrating injunction for her to go down on him and devour him. Season 4 breaks him enough that he gets to the opposite nihilistic ideation that he’s nothing and hence has no claim on the company or being her protégé. The truth - that we don’t know if he can get to - is somewhat in between. All these kids are very smart and worthy in their own ways, even though of course the expectation placed on them to be exceptional prevents them being satisfied in being maybe just that.
His final scene showcases the sad and lonely consumption of the woman he loves’ essence, a poor ersatz for the ‘old gal’s juices’ that he doesn’t deserve. All he has to offer being something he has never been able to name or express without the alibi of the company; an amorphous, unworthy, unnamable but ultimately undeniable feeling.
And possibly in the writers’ minds, this is the suicide part of their contemporary Romeo & Juliet drama. Dying with the blade and the poison after daddy said the love was unacceptable & unobtainable? I mean come ON!
Roman “knifed” Gerri (This is rhetoric they use ON THE SHOW), she completed the execution by taking herself out and brought him the threat of annihilation (while ordering the poison; a martini). There is a delicious poisonous quality to the drink isn’t there (or its abuse)? And of course, if he dies he’ll die by her, he’ll taste the poison she chose off her lips, because if he has lost the love of his life in this eternal quasi status, it becomes the only worthy pursuit.
That was the roman-esque question of the show. What is love if it’s always been withheld, if it’s always been expressed via the proxy of the company, if it’s never been given freely, or modelled or held as something precious and worthy that had to be protected? And what if it makes you ravenous for it? And how could you get it, this thing you most desperately want, if you’d never been given the tools?
O true apothecary,
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
#roman roy#succession hbo#gerri kellman#romangerri#shiv roy#tom wambsgans#connor roy#willa ferreyra#sorry this isn't a hopeful post#obviously Gerri finds him and tells him she loves him the way he is#he finds a way to make himself feel worthy again#I'm just pulling the thread laid by those evil writers
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website
The valentine on Jon’s desk had Martin written all over it, in every way but literal. It was done in an elaborate old-fashioned style, fitting with that retro aesthetic he liked, huge and dark red and trimmed in a delicate white lace shot through with silver. Across the front in gold ink was a syrupy love poem praising Jon’s eyes, hair, voice, and general sense of style, using a few rather forced rhymes and clearly patterned on Keats, and written in a delicate, ornate script. It was signed “Your Secret Admirer”, but the I had been replaced with a drawing of an actual eye, winking flirtatiously. It had also been taped to a tin of chocolate-covered biscuits specially manufactured for Valentine’s Day. In short, it was a grand, over-the-top gesture designed to either make Jon swoon or die of embarrassment, with the additional risk that he might explode with rage.
Jon set it on the edge of his desk and tried to ignore it, waiting for the person who’d put it there to come back and see how he was taking it.
Soon enough, the door creaked open. “Hey, I—what the fuck is that?”
“A llama,” Jon said, as calmly and dryly as he could, without looking up from the tapes scattered over his desk.
“You’re an ass.” There was no real heat in Melanie’s voice, though, as she shut the door and pulled up the chair opposite him, then reached for the valentine. “Oh, God, did you make this?”
“No, it was on my desk when I came in this morning.” Jon glanced at the clock on his laptop. “Bit surprised nobody’s come in to ask about it.”
Melanie’s face screwed up into something indescribable as she read the poem. It was like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or throw up. “Why did you let me see this?”
Jon raised an eyebrow at her. “In the first place, I didn’t know you were coming. But now you have, I’m hoping you can help me come up with a suitable way to get back at Tim for this, since I can’t fire him.”
Melanie burst out laughing, setting down the valentine. “Oh, thank God, I was afraid I was going to have to shove Martin into the Thames.”
“Yes, well, Tim obviously meant for me to think this was from Martin, but the handwriting slants in the wrong direction,” Jon pointed out. “This was clearly done with a fountain pen. Martin couldn’t have written like this without dragging his hand or sleeve through the wet ink and smearing the whole thing. Also, he knows I’m not overly fond of this brand of biscuits.”
“You should bring it to the bookshop after work today. Get the rest to go with you. Give it to G—to the proprietor in front of everyone and tell him Tim was too shy to deliver it himself. Then do me a favor and take a picture of his face so I can see it later.”
At that, Jon couldn’t help but start laughing too. “You won’t be coming?”
Instantly, Melanie sobered. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I, um—I think the time has come for me to make a statement about…you know. Our research.”
Jon became serious as well and reached for the tape recorder. He knew Melanie wasn’t talking about the Unknowing.
In the time between Melanie getting off the phone with Martin and Jon being discharged from the hospital up Sheffield way, they’d come to a mutual understanding regarding what had happened at the scrap yard. Namely, that despite the fact that both of them knew the risks—Melanie perhaps more than Jon, although he’d always been a quick study—they were going to keep investigating. At first they’d said, or maybe just pretended, it was because of the possibility that the Slaughter was preparing for a ritual, but since Gerry said they didn’t have to worry about it, it was harder to admit they really believed that. The trouble was that they were both…fascinated. Curious. It might have been the Eye, it might have been the Slaughter trying to lure them both in, it might just have been that they were drawn to a challenge and a good mystery, but whatever it was, they hadn’t been able to leave it alone.
“Hypothetically speaking, how much trouble am I going to get in if Martin gets hold of this tape?” he asked as he hit RECORD. No sense in even making a pretense at using the laptop.
Melanie snorted. “Not nearly as much as I am. I mean, you’re still relatively new to all this. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit since I was eight. I should know better. And here I led you right into it.”
“It didn’t take all that much leading, to be honest,” Jon admitted. “Right, let’s—let’s get this started. Statement of Melanie King, regarding her further researches into war ghosts. Recorded direct from subject, fourteenth February, 2017.” He nodded at her. “Statement begins.”
Melanie took a deep breath. “Ghost Hunt UK struggled after Aldershot. I was honestly not in the best place in the world at the time to begin with—I’d just lost my oldest brother a couple months before, and I was ‘dealing’ with that by bottling it up and ignoring it, but I was distracted more than I wanted to admit. Sarah Baldwin disappeared. I spent a while trying to track her down, but nothing led anywhere, and I was afraid to push too hard. I think I knew there was something…off about her, and I had a guess as to what it was, so I was admittedly a lot more fixated on the ghost. It wouldn’t go on the recording, that’s what hit me. Things that won’t record properly are always dangerous. I didn’t dig into it too much at the time either, because a part of me wondered if Sarah was what made it go wonky, but it stuck with me.
“The others were dealing with their own stuff. We struggled along for another year, but it wasn’t the same. Toni was the worst. She just got harder and harder to pin down, and when she moved to Bristol in the end, she didn’t even tell me. I had to hear it from Pete, who told me at the same time that he was thinking of leaving, too. That’s about when I came to make my statement, and truthfully…I didn’t actually intend to make it about the incident at the CMH. I was going to…I don’t know, give you something you could have proved was false? It was just an excuse, really. I wanted—needed—to talk to Martin, and I had to say something to get past the harridan at the front desk, so I said I was coming to make a statement. But after it came out…I realized how it sounded, and I just couldn’t let it go. That helped when Andy decided to take what he called ‘a bit of a holiday’ and moved out of the house. As far as Ghost Hunt UK is concerned, he’s still on holiday, and it’s just me.”
She kept going, detailing the paths she’d followed, the research she’d poked into, the way she’d been subtly or not-so-subtly warned off by the few contacts she’d had left in the ghost-hunting world. Jon had heard most of this before, on the trip north to visit her family, but he listened intently anyway, especially when she got into how she’d found out about the scrap yard and made arrangements to stay with her great-aunt.
“That’s when I brought you in,” she said. “When I first got started with Ghost Hunt UK, I promised my brothers that if I ever ran into anything like that, I’d tell them right away, that I wouldn’t go into situations like that without backup. But Martin was still recovering from the attack on the Institute—maybe not physically, but mentally. If he gets too close to this sort of thing too soon after a major incident, he’s more…vulnerable to it, and I was scared to death of losing him. And I trusted you—not just to have my back if things went south, but to, you know, understand what we were doing. Maybe there was also a little bit of knowing you wouldn’t stop me from investigating further. Martin would have gone into big brother mode, and honestly he would have been right to, but I just…I had to know.”
“I know what that’s like,” Jon admitted.
“I know you do.” Melanie gave him a quick smile. “I don’t think I need to go into detail about what we went through at that scrap yard, since you were with me. And thank God you were, because I was…I was fascinated by that ghost we saw, the one with the scalpel. I wouldn’t have gotten away in time if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, and I almost certainly would have been caught by security. I didn’t want you to get hurt in my place, but…I’m glad you were there.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway. Once we got back to London and…things settled down a bit, I took that serial number you found on the car and looked it up. It was from World War II, you were right. The Eleventh US Army Hospital train, operating in the European theater from August 1944. The train crew was even commended for their service.”
“But…” Jon prompted.
“It crashed in April 1945. Derailed, killed five crew and seriously injured fourteen more. There weren’t any patients on board at the time—at least, not officially. We both know how that goes,” Melanie added, her eyes darkening slightly. Jon winced in sympathy. “There was only one steel car that avoided derailment.”
“The one in Rotherham.”
“Exactly. There’s not a lot of information on it, though, and I’ve no idea how it ended up there. So that’s when I asked you to get me into the library.”
Jon blinked. “I—I didn’t think of that, actually. Our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War.”
Melanie grinned. “No, but the most detailed description of the crash came from a man named William W. Hay. And later in life, William Hay…”
“Became a noted occultist,” Jon completed, feeling a grin split his own face, “whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have original copies.”
“Exactly.”
“What did you find?”
“Plenty. He served on the Eleventh Hospital Train as an engineer, and there was a lot he had to say about it. They even let me make a photocopy.” Melanie handed Jon a sheet of paper that felt far too flimsy for the weight it undoubtedly bore.
He read it out loud, slowly and distinctly. It wasn’t much, just a brief description of atrocities committed that had left Hay wholly sympathetic to the train’s derailment, but at the end, it also included a cryptic reference to an incident at the infirmary at Amritsar. Jon knew where that was, more or less—he wasn’t intimately familiar with Indian geography, but it was at least the same end of the country that his grandmother’s people had come from, so he’d done some studying of the region. And he certainly knew who the Ghurkhas were. The passage, short as it was, chilled him to the bone.
“I see,” he said, lowering the paper. “So does this mean…?”
“Yes,” Melanie said with a nod. “And I’ve already got my plane ticket to India booked.”
A spike of alarm, mingled with curiosity, shot through Jon. He scanned her face a bit anxiously. “Are you certain that’s wise?”
“Probably not,” Melanie replied honestly. “But I’ve got to go. I can’t let this go. You know that.”
“I know.” Jon shot a glance at his laptop. If he could justify this to Elias…“Perhaps it would be safer if I went with you.”
Melanie winced. “Under any other circumstances, I’d jump on that, honestly, but—no, I don’t think so. Not with that scar on your shoulder. This…whatever it is, it’s made a much deeper impression on you than it has on me. I might get lucky and be able to escape it. Worst-case scenario, I’ll probably just end up with a nasty injury that lays me up for a few days. If you come along, I think it’ll stir up worse and increase the risk that neither of us make it out alive. So, thanks, but no. I’ve got to do this on my own.”
Jon wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with that last part, but he did have to admit she was probably right about not taking him. “One more question, then. Have you told…ah…anyone other than me that you’re going?” They were careful not to mention Gerry anywhere Elias might overhear, at least not by name, but the specter of Melanie’s brothers hung between them as though they were right there.
“I told my boss at the bookstore,” Melanie said with the briefest of flickers in her eyes. “Or at least I told him I was going out of town. Didn’t tell him the specifics. And…well, Martin was at lunch when I got here, but I’ve got time before I need to get to Gatwick, especially since I’m not bringing any luggage, so I figure I’ll wait a bit and say goodbye before I go. Uh, I’m—not going to tell him what I’m heading to research, either.”
Jon shouldn’t be encouraging that level of concealment, but, he rationalized, Martin likely wouldn’t be able to go with her if he did know, and he’d just worry excessively. Maybe he would let him listen to the tape once Melanie was well on her way.
He would undoubtedly kill both of them, but at the same time, they had to know.
“I understand,” he said finally. “Thank you, Melanie.”
“Yeah,” Melanie said softly. She stood up and held out her arms.
Jon got up as well and hugged her fiercely. He didn’t need any kind of supernatural ability to know that she was more afraid than she was letting on. The thrill of the research, the curiosity about what they had seen and felt and discovered, may have driven her to this point, but she had a healthy respect for, if not fear of, death, and she knew what she was risking. He knew it, too, but he also knew that wasn’t going to stop either of them. His warnings were on the record, and he had to admit that if their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t have hesitated in going either, frightened or not.
“Please be careful,” he implored her. “You know what it would do to Martin if he lost you.” He tried for a laugh. “And I’ve grown to rather like having you around myself.”
Melanie managed a laugh, too. “I’ll be as careful as I can, mate.” She squeezed him extra hard for a moment, then eased back—reluctantly, it seemed to Jon. He, too, let go slowly. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks. Three at the most. I’ve got the automatic feeder set up, but if you could maybe pop in and make sure there’s water if you get the chance…”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” Melanie smiled. “And, uh, I’ll turn in that library pass on my way out. Do I have to go back and leave it with Diana?”
“No, you can leave it with Rosie. She honestly handles most of the paperwork for the Institute.”
“Which one’s Rosie?” Melanie flushed slightly under Jon’s raised eyebrows. “I, uh, don’t talk to a lot of people Upstairs if I can help it. I only know Diana because you introduced me, really. It’s not like everyone else walks around with name tags or anything.”
“True,” Jon admitted. “Rosie is Elias’ personal assistant-cum-secretary. She’s also the, ah, front of house, I suppose, for the Institute. Normally when we have people come to give us statements, she’s the one who calls down to tell us.” He paused. “In point of fact, she called to tell me you were coming, the first time you came to give your statement.”
“Oh, yeah, her, okay.” Melanie pursed her lips slightly. “I haven’t seen her around since then, actually. Where does she sit?”
“More or less right in front as you walk in. She’s just outside Elias’ office.” Which made sense, if she was Elias’ personal assistant, but also gave her way too much knowledge about the comings and goings of the Institute. Jon had long ago told Melanie to use the side door when she came in, so it wasn’t unreasonable that she’d found one of the back stairs to avoid having to go past Rosie’s desk on her way to the library. Frankly, Jon avoided her as much as he could, which wasn’t much, since he was constantly in and out of Elias’ office for meetings and whatnot. She was sweet enough, but…
“Huh.” Melanie’s frown deepened. “Is she out sick?”
“What?” Jon blinked at Melanie. “No, she—she should be in. I saw her this morning.”
“Who covers her breaks, then?”
“I—I don’t know that she takes them, actually. Why?”
Melanie shrugged. “Didn’t recognize the woman at the desk, that’s all.”
Jon thought back to the last time Melanie had been in. “Ah. Maybe she had her back to you? She’s dyed her hair again. I swear she does it at least once a month. It was, um, chestnut last time, wasn’t it? Last week she went to a kind of blue-black.”
It was Melanie’s turn to blink at him. “Yeah, that’s the woman I saw today. Didn’t have her back to me, though, we talked—she was as sweet as anything. Who was that?”
“Rosie,” Jon said, a bit exasperated.
“Then who the hell called me down the first time I was here?” Melanie said, sounding equally exasperated. “That woman was at least a foot taller, thin face, long pointed nose, straight grey hair. Seemed offended by my existence, which is why I had to think so fast to give her an excuse to get down to the Archives. I watched her make the call—you’re telling me that wasn’t Rosie?”
“I—what?” Jon’s stomach churned with unease, and he couldn’t really say why.
Melanie started to answer, then cocked her head towards the door. “I hear Martin. I should probably go say goodbye before I lose my chance and then get going.” She gave Jon another quick hug. “Be careful while I’m gone, yeah? Martin won’t want to lose you either.”
Jon hugged her back and resolved to sort through the conflicting roil of emotions he was currently feeling once she was gone. “I will. Safe travels, Melanie. Call if you need anything.”
“Sure.” Melanie gave him a wavering smile, then turned and stepped out of the office. “Martin, hey!”
The door closed behind her, and Jon sank into his chair, then glanced at the tape, which he belated realized was still running. “Uh. End recording.” He pressed the STOP button, and the tape shut off with a sharp snap.
If he was being honest, and he was trying very hard to be, the only part of Melanie’s statement that had actually shaken him was that last bit. He knew Rosie. Of course he knew Rosie. She’d been a fixture at the Institute since long before he’d come to work there—probably since before Martin had come to work there. She was always cheery and kind to everyone, but seemed to have a special smile for Martin. Always greeted Jon warmly when he came in, asked after his health when he came back from physical therapy, warned him if the reason he was being called to Elias’ office was a transgression or a praise. He knew her almost better than he knew anyone else outside the Archives.
Right?
What was it Michael—no, not Michael, the Distortion—what had it said after he got done calling up to Rosie when Helen Richardson finished her statement? Do you even know they’re lying to you? He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, hadn’t been able to focus on the words over his sudden surge of fear, and afterwards, back in his flat with Martin fussing over him and time to think clearly, he’d just assumed it was calculated to make him paranoid. After all, the Distortion hadn’t specified who “they” were.
But now…
Jon looked back at the tapes on his desk. Basira had brought them just that Friday, really to Martin, but they had all sort of communally agreed to store them in Jon’s office. He’d been sifting through them, looking for where to start. And now…he had an idea.
He skimmed the labels, looking for the one he’d noticed earlier. Like most of Gertrude’s tapes, the labels made little sense until you actually listened to them, and not all of them had corresponding file numbers written on the fronts. The one Jon was looking for had, but what had caught his attention was the title written above it…
Ah. There it was. Jon reached over and plucked up the tape with a single word written across its front: Changeling.
Before he could change his mind, he took the tape he’d used to record Melanie out and put Gertrude’s in, then hit PLAY.
The details of the statement may not have been what he expected, insofar as he’d expected anything at all, but the sum and substance was exactly what he’d feared. A woman had gone to her parents’ home only to find a woman everyone else seemed to believe was her mother, but the woman she remembered had been vastly different, in appearance and personality. Only the woman who’d given the statement seemed to remember her real mother. In her summing-up, Gertrude noted that the being—she called it a Not-Them—had left for good after the father’s death two days after the statement was given. She seemed remarkably blasé about the whole thing, really, and Jon wanted to be annoyed with her about that. What caught his attention, though, was her casual statement: Personally, I suspect it to be an aspect of the Stranger, though that’s entirely conjecture at this point.
The tape clicked off. Jon barely noticed it.
He thought back to the morning after the attack on the Institute, the conversation they’d had, first around Melanie’s kitchen table and then in her living room, about the statements they’d researched and the Fears they related to. Amy Patel’s statement, and the thing that was obviously not her friend Graham. The thing that isn’t Graham is the Stranger. Martin, at least, had sounded so sure…
Well. Jon trusted Martin far more than he trusted Gertrude Robinson. If the thing that had pretended to be Graham Folger and the thing that had pretended to be Rose Cooper were the same thing, then they were both of the Stranger. And…oh, God. The table. Was it tied to the table somehow? Lucy Cooper hadn’t mentioned one in her statement, but—it had to be, it just had to.
There was one more clue. Gertrude had mentioned a previous statement from this Adelard Dekker character—maybe Martin would know that name as well, although he seemed older, so who knew—and if Jon could find that, if he could read it…he wouldn’t trust the tapes, so few of them were correctly labeled, but the nineties were a bit more organized than they had been. He ought to be able to find it. And then…and then he would know.
No, he was stalling. He knew now. Breekon and Hope had delivered that damned table to the Institute. Rosie had signed for it—cheerfully, wanting to help, not wanting to bother him—or, no, was that just the Rosie he remembered? The Rosie whose memories had replaced the real ones? From Melanie’s description, maybe she had been annoyed, maybe she’d signed for it because she thought it would be easier—that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Rosie had signed for it. It was in Artifact Storage. Rosie must have gone to have another look at it, sometime after the attack…
Jon took a deep, steadying breath and got up. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. It was about time for his lunch break anyway. He would go out and—and get the supplies he would need, and then he would come back and find that statement, just to confirm what he already knew. And then…and then he would do what he could.
He suspected he wouldn’t be able to bring Rosie back. But he could make the thing that had taken her place pay for it.
#ollie writes fanfic#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic#jonathan sims#melanie king#unreality#medical mention#train crash mention#valentine's day#lying/manipulation
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Code Blue - Ch. 11 "The Truth Shall Set You Free"
Summary: Josie is busted. Lee stands by the blonde beauty he adores. An oceanside joy ride ensues. Stories are told. An interrogation ends badly. An overdue truth is revealed ending a short lived moment.
*Warnings* Language, Angst, Mentions of death
Stories Stories Stories Masterlist
Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Gerry,
Salem, Massachusetts
February 22, 2023
"Gerry?? What the hell are you doing here?! Did you fucking follow me??"
Your tone was just an octave above pissed off as you stood at Lee's side glaring down the 6'2, 46 year old blue eyed detective.
"Nice to see you too babe. You can only run for so long until I find you. Three weeks Josie, really? I've let your statement slide considering the loss you have suffered but now I am just running out of patience. I've got the D.A and the commissioner on my back for giving you special treatment because of our history and all you have been doing is shacking up with the reputable Dr. Pace."
Lee was instantly set off, first by the fact that this stranger rudely called you babe, and second, for his blunt implications.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Lee snidely said as he firmly took a step forward.
"I do believe I already introduced myself as detective Butler...but let me formally introduce myself. I am Josie's ex-fiance' but just call me Gerry like she does."
He then turned to you. "And....to answer your question sweetheart, I'm a cop. It's not that difficult to find out who you're doing...sorry, I mean what you're doing. Now that we've got all the nooks and crannies filled in, I need your ass down to the station. Now. Don't make me get the cuffs out. I like to save those for the bedroom."
Gerard Butler, whom everyone called Gerry, not just you, was indeed your ex. He was the Scottish half brother of your Irish half brother Bo Brady, also a cop, who died a few years ago. Bo and Gerry shared a father and you and Bo shared a mother. Quite a confusing tale that you did not want to think about at this time but would explain to Lee later on, because you knew he was going to want to know allllll about Gerry now. Jealous both men obviously were but unlike Lee, Gerry had an ego. You were in love with Gerry once, but as people say, you never love one person the same way you love another, and you were finding that out now with Lee, for he did things to you that you never deemed possible...Needless to say, your relationship of two years with the tall, dark and beefy Gerry failed for obvious reasons. Gerry was a cop. Jason was in the mob. That was like mixing fire with gasoline.....and then there was the elephant on the porch that stood between you and Gerry....he had cheated on you.
Lee was burning with rage. "Cop or not, who the hell are you to speak to her like that?!" he reeled as his nose flared.
"Lee...it's alright." you assured him as you stood with your hands gently placed upon his chest. "I can handle him."
Gerry grinned from ear to ear. "Yes, you can, that's for sure. Now come on cupcake. It's time to go....and don't think you're going to lose my tail, because I will be following you there. Chop chop!"
Gerry turned in a cavalier manner and strolled out to his black Ford F-150 Super Crew and leaned on it, lighting up a cigarette and blowing donut holes.
You rolled your eyes and took Lee's hand, drawing him inside as you slammed the now windowless door shut.
"I can explain..."
"Jo...you don't owe me any explanations."
"Lee....I think we are far past that now. Yes...I do."
"Fair enough. You can tell me then, on the way downtown."
Your head tilted at him.
"What? You think I'm going to just let you go be interrogated by that creep without me? Besides, you promised me a ride in your car, did you not? I'm ready to blast that bad to the bone stereo system to release my newly pent up emotions of wanting to kick his ass."
His grin was so wickedly hot.....and him turning into some guard dog wanting to protect you just proved he was something authentic...any doubts you ever had of him were gone with the wind and you never wanted to let him go.
"Alright." you giggled. "But...driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
"Ohhhh, that is so not fair. You said I could drive sometime."
Now his grin was adorably pathetic....and you knew what you were about to tell him would not stick.
"I did...but that sometime is not today." you flirtatiously teased.
You were right, Lee got his way....you let this gorgeous man drive your car after you swore it would not be today. It had to be the fact that he fit perfectly in your driver seat, like it was made for him...a seat you had never let anyone even sit in, ever... let alone drive...but you had let Lee sit in it once before...the first time you went to his house. He had looked like a kid in a candy store so, this time, you caved and let him have some joy for once since the past three weeks he had been through nothing but pure hell. You could almost feel the green glare from Gerry in your side mirror.
The way Lee propped his left arm over the wheel and laid his right arm over the back of your seat, turning to smile at you, sent an out of the blue rush through your core. Could a man ever look so damn good in a pair of sunglasses? Lee sure did and although all you could see was your reflection in them, you could feel his baby blues cutting right through them, delving deep into your soul. No one had ever looked at you like he did...and honestly, you had never looked at anyone the way you did at him either.
The drive would be at least 45 minutes as you told Lee to purposely take the longest route just to piss Gerry off.....so Lee happily obliged and took they highway that ran along the bay. It was all perfect. The windows down, the Atlantic ocean view and it's salt water smell blowing inside the car. You then did something, and waited for Lee's reaction. Popping in your "High N Dry" Def Leppard cd, you turned it to the song he referenced you to in his letter. Lady Strange.
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His glance at you verified to him that you had read his letter, but he already suspected it since you had came to see him shortly after he had given it to Amy. Neither of you had fully talked about it yet, but you planned on doing so. There was a lot left unsaid but for the most part, the most important areas were addressed and would gladly do for now....and all his actions today spoke louder than words anyways. The way he protected you and not Elizabeth when the the windows blew out, him falling to his knees, crying in your lap....the dance and almost kiss...all still had you reeling. You had finally felt safe with someone, your heart included.
As the song blared, he began to sing it, and kept glancing at you with a grin while doing so. If you were so bold, you would climb over top of him right now, for he was driving you crazy with desire.....but you weren't that bold. The lost kiss still lingered about your aching lips, wondering what it would be like to feel his heart shaped pucker pressed against you, whether it was your lips or any other parts of your anatomy. That thought right there sent shockwaves through your intimate regions. Another Def Leppard song came to mind in that moment. Have you ever needed someone so bad....yes...yes you did. It wasn't just about sex though. When it came to Lee, you wanted the whole kit n kaboodle, you wanted all of him, something Gerry had deprived you of.
The song ended and you turned off the player because Lee had become quiet, lost in thought...and you were willing to bet it was about Gerry.
"So...as promised, I will tell you about Gerry...that's if you really want to know."
"Jo, if I have made you feel that you need to, I am sorry. I meant what I said, it's none of my business."
"But...I think that it is. Yes, we were engaged. I have had other relationships but the longest was with him, two years. I thought he was different, but to make that part short and sweet, he wasn't. Gerry cheated on me....and the person he did it with only made it that much more unforgiveable. My sister, Megan...the one who sent you those photos and lied about me and Orlando. She was always after any man I would show interest in and it's the number one reason I cannot stand her among many other reasons."
After mentioning Orlando, you suddenly remembered you were supposed to go to dinner with him tonight. Now what were you going to do? If you had received Lee's letter sooner, you never would have accepted. How were you going to tell Lee? You knew you had to at some point, but you continued on with your tale of Gerry.
"We were already having problems because of Jason. I'm not sure if you are aware, but Jason was in organized crime, which is another reason Gerry wants my statement so damn bad about the explosion. And then there was was the death of my half brother Bo, three years ago on Thanksgiving."
"God, Jo, I am so sorry. I didn't know you had another brother....and to have lost two of them now...Jo...I...you don't have to do this..."
"It's ok Lee....I...I don't talk about him. It's too painful...but I will with you. I trust you. He had a brain tumor that he hid from everyone until it was too late. God, I never understood why. He was only 48 and had a wife, a son and a daughter. Thanksgiving day, he collapsed and later died that night. I bet you could have saved him."
You began to lightly sob. Lee removed his arm from the back of your seat and took your hand into his.
"If I had had the opportunity, I would have done everything in my power to help him. I'm so sorry sweetheart."
His words, his touch...gave you the strength to continue.
"I know you would have. Bo was as stubborn and hard headed as they came....and he was damn good detective. Things were hard for him too with Jason with being his brother....and then there was Gerry, Bo's best friend and partner....and...also his brother. Yeah...so...he and Gerry share a father, a notorious Greek tycoon who was and is in crime up to his ears, so Bo and Gerry's relationship with him was pretty rocky. Victor Kiriakis, you may have heard of him. Lives in that secluded enormous mansion on the bay. Bo and Gerry are just a few of his many offspring. The man certainly had his way with the ladies, including my mother which resulted in Bo, the oldest of us remaining three. She was young and hadn't met my father yet...As far as Gerry, his mother lives in Scotland. When Gerry was in his early twenties, he found out about Bo and came here to find him. None of us knew about Gerry, not even Victor. Gerry's mother, Margaret Butler, strangely another Margaret like my mom, Margaret Brady March, had finally told him after the man he knew as his father, had died. Bo and Gerry became inseparable and Gerry eventually moved here. Bo's death brought me and Gerry closer together and then things just kinda happened and eventually, he asked me to marry him a year ago. I accepted and then soon found out what he did and I ended it. So there ya have it."
Lee squeezed your hand. "Jo...I am so sorry for all that you have been through and I thank you for trusting me with such a personal and sensitive matter. Your brother sounds like he was a really great guy. Wish I could have known him and even tried to help him....and I am really sorry for what Gerry did to you. I cannot even understand that, how any man could ever want another over someone like you."
Lee realized what he had said and pulled his hand away from yours with a look of shame upon his face.
"Lee? what's the matter?"
"I'm a hypocrite, that's what. Jo...that girl you found me with. I swear to god I didn't sleep with her. I know I already told you this but I am not sure if you believe me and I can understand why. I didn't want her and I know you probably believe otherwise after what you walked in on, but I swear Jo, I would never had gone through with it, even if you hadn't showed up. My mind, my heart...it was not and is not with her..."
"You mean Jess."
"Yeah...how..did.."
"I went to high school with her. A slut then, a slut still."
You took his hand back. "Lee...I believe you and let's not talk about her ever again ok?" you smiled and he nodded.
The rest of the drive there, the music played as you and Lee talked about normal things while your hand remained locked inside his. You couldn't bring yourself to ruin this moment by telling him about your pre-planned date with his best friend, which you were now inclined to terminate, but how was the question. You didn't want to hurt Orlando, for he had been nothing but good to you and there for you when you needed him.
Lee pulled into the parking garage, followed by Gerry. You went to get out but Lee wouldn't let go of your hand.
"Wait." he smiled and got out, trotting around the car and then opened your door. "My lady." he grinned, waving his hand down in front of him and bowing.
"Oh my god Lee, stop." you laughed and got out.
Gerry slammed his door and came marching over to the two of you, looking you up and down.
"You kiddin me?" is all he said as he was pissed off that you had taken the long way there...which is what you were hoping for.
He took a step forward and Lee dauntlessly placed two fingertips on Gerry's chest.
"Back off." he lionheartedly commanded.
Both men were a lot of boy, but Lee stood three inches taller than Gerry and peered down at him fearlessly. Gerry was far from intimidated and now even more pissed off as he stared down at Lee's hand, then brought his focus back to you.
"You wanna call your pit bull off before I take him to the pound and have him out down?" Gerry snapped with sarcasm.
"Gerry, shut the hell up."
"I'd like to see you try." Lee snarled as he lowered his hand but didn't move or take his eyes off the witty detective.
Gerry removed his sunglasses and pursed his lips.
"Ok...stop...both of you!"
You took Lee's hand and tugged at it, making him look at you.
"He's not worth it. Come one, let's go get this over with."
"Oh hold up there sunshine. The tenacious doctor here isn't going anywhere with you. You can tie him to a leash in the lobby while I take your statement."
"What if I want to stay?" Lee adamantly retorted.
"Wow, he seriously needs some training Josie. Where'd you find this one? On some street corner rooting through the trash? You always did have a soft spot for strays." Gerry also retorted.
"I took you in didn't I, the stray brother from Scotland? He comes with me or no statement. End of story Gerry."
Your words stunned and stung Gerry.
You did instantly feel bad for saying what you did, but you weren't going to let him belittle Lee like that. As Lee had defended you, you were going to defend him also.
"Yep...fine. Let's get this the fuck over with. After you." Gerry barked and waited for you both to go.
You and Lee both sat down beside each other on a couch in Gerry's office that was the size of an entire living area. He was the big wig around there aside from Commissioner Hernandez, who was in a relationship with Bo's widow, you're sister in law and also a detective, Hope. You had wished she could have taken this case but she was on leave visiting her daughter Ciara in another state who had just had a baby. Bo's son Shawn was also on the force but he went with his mom to meet his new nephew. So Gerry got stuck with you, and you knew he was more than thrilled to do it. He still pined for you and had tried so hard to win you back after what he had done, but you just couldn't forgive him or trust him anymore.
Gerry walked in and folded his arms over his chest.
"Alright...tell me everything about the day of February 1st, 2023."
You took in a breath and sighed it out heavily as you closed your eyes.
"Hey...Jo..." Lee took your hand and sweetly smiled at you. "Just breathe."
It was the same thing Lee had told you in the hospital that day and he knew you would remember. You took in another breath, released it softly and then smiled back at him. He was your rock. There was no way you could relive that horror without him.
You began your tale, but tweaked it some, because what you knew could put you six feet under like Jason, which is the entire reason you avoided this all together. Jason had taught you well on how to get around the police and Gerry knew it, which was part of the issues you and he had in your past relationship with him.
"I...I went to meet Jason for lunch at the Floating Rib down at pier 55." Tweak one, you left out the part of you meeting with him just 4 hours earlier and how he spoke about his funeral arrangements. "It was about 2 pm. We were there about one and a half hours. After we were finished eating, I left. As soon as I walked out the door, the entire place.....exploded...and I woke up on the ground with EMT's tending to me. I was able to get up and I didn't see Jason anywhere. I panicked and tried to run back inside but some firemen stopped me...and then I collapsed and woke up in the ER. They treated my arm which had been cut, did a bunch of tests and then released me. That's it..."
"That's it? Like hell Josie. You and Jason were as tight as my asshole and I know when you're hiding things as well as I know every mole on your body. If this was all there was to it, you wouldn't have eluded me all this time. What did you both talk about? How was Jason's demeanor? What did you have to eat?" Gerry harshly grilled.
"Hey, take it easy on her! She's been through a lot!" Lee snapped.
"You seriously need a muzzle. This is my job and she's not being forthcoming with me. Now answer the questions Josie."
"Ok seriously? Jason and I talked about life. We hadn't been spending much time together. He seemed fine and I had a shrimp basket and he had a plate of ribs and a baked potato...with butter and sour cream..oh and I had an iced tea with a fucking lemon. Can I go now? I don't want to talk about this anymore. There's nothing more to tell Gerry.""
"Yes there is. You said you went to go back inside? Did you see anything, or anyone unusual before or after the explosion? You said you left before Jason, what was he doing?"
Tweak number two. "No...nothing...or no one. Jason went to use the bathroom."
But when you had walked out to leave, you saw a man all dressed in black looking at a cell phone... a man you recognized as Julian Jerome, a member of one of the crime families. He had told you that you better be moving along.
He hit a button on his phone and bolted. Two seconds later the place blew up.
The Jerome's were major rivals with Jason's mob boss, Sonny Corinthos. You had tried to turn and scream for Jason, but it all happened too fast.
You felt your chest constricting and broke down, throwing your hands over your face while Lee rubbed your back.
You knew Jason was the victim of a mob hit, and you also knew that he knew it was going to happen soon. He had actually been on his phone frequently throughout your luncheon and seemed on edge. He didn't finish his meal and told you he needed to go take care of something and would see you soon. You didn't question him because you knew he was always like that, taking off at Sonny's beck and call. Jason hugged you and then said he was going to the restroom, and told you to go wait in the car, which he was quite adamant about but not enough to alert you to danger...and that never clicked with you until after it all happened. He knew there was a bomb and whomever he was texting, had warned him....at least that's what you believed.
"Alright, this is enough. Look how upset she is. Are you satisfied now?" Lee angrily snapped.
"Oh, I'll be satisfied when she tell me the WHOLE truth and I am about losing my patience with the both of you. You're forgetting about how much I know Jason Morgan's dealings and this? This was no accident, it was a fucking bomb and people are dead, one of them being your brother Josie! Do you not want the people responsible to be brought to justice??! Julian already got his karma...and you could have been killed too! So stop protecting your brother because he's gone!"
Now you were really bawling. Gerry was an all out blatant guy, he had to be in his line of work...but he was never like this with you. You knew it was because Lee was there and he could see how happy he made you.
"Stop! Please make it stop...I can't do this...I wanna leave. Lee please, get me out of here."
Lee put his arm around you and pulled you against him.
"Are you finally fucking satisfied detective?!" Lee shouted. "You're a real piece of work. Let's go Jo."
Lee helped you up and escorted you out as Gerry watched in remorse. He never meant to break you like that but he felt it was the only way to get you to be honest...and he failed miserably.
All the way back to Lee's, you stared out the window, still and silent as he drove. He wanted to pull you over to him and hold you so bad but he didn't want to push anything on you. Lee knew what Gerry did hurt you really bad and you just needed some space to work through it on your own.
Lee pulled into his driveway, shut the car off and sat for a moment, not knowing what to do or say.
You wanted to tell him the entire truth that you hid from Gerry and everyone else, but you couldn't...you wouldn't put him in any danger because of you. The less he knew, the better. Julian Jerome had wound up swimming with the fishes shortly after the explosion and you knew it was Sonny's doing, and this was all something you did not want Lee involved in. You couldn't live with yourself if something happened to him because of you.
You both went inside where you knew you then would have to tell Lee about Orlando, as it was 3 pm and Dr. Bloom was supposed to pick you up in three hours.
Lee stood at the closet and took his shirt off, revealing the navy blue tee underneath that he was wearing earlier.
"Hey, go relax on the couch while I clean up the glass and secure the windows. God knows I am never going to get this house fixed now. I'll order us some food in a bit if you'd like? Maybe watch some movies?"
His smile was so beautiful, yet devastating to you because you were about to take it away.
"Lee...I...I have to tell you something. But..I swear I'll fix it."
"Tell me what Jo? If it's about Gerry, you do not need to do that. You've endured enough today with him and you have already told me everything didn't you? Come...stay with me and chill out for awhile. I love spending time with you. For the most part, today was really nice. Maybe I'm a bit selfish, but I just don't want you to leave."
Fuck! How were you going to do this? Rip out the little shreds of happiness he had left, happiness that you brought him. You didn't want to leave either. Cuddling with him on the couch is all you wanted to do and hopefully pick up where you left off with that almost kiss.
"Lee...please. Just let me get this out. I don't want to keep anything from you.... if I don't have to."
You had to thrown that last little bit in since you couldn't tell him the full story on that day with Jason.
"Ok? what is it Jo?" he asked as his smile faded. He could tell it was something serious.
"Just know that...if I had known...if I had received your letter sooner....ugh damn it! Lee....Orlando...he asked me out for dinner tonight and I had accepted."
There, you just blurted it out and watched Lee remove his shoes and look at you with an addled stare.
His response was not what you expected. You figured he'd at least try to talk you out of it...or something.
"Oh...well...then you should go." he flatly said.
"Wait...what? Lee, no. I want to tell him I can't go."
"No...don't do that. I've always known he was sweet on you. I know him better than anyone does. It's not your fault that I didn't get to you in time. You committed to a date, so you should go."
"But, that's exactly it. I committed to it without knowing anything. Lee...when I met you in the hospital...I tried to talk to you again. I asked Orlando to tell you I wanted to speak with you but he later told me you had already left. I wanted to..."
"Wait...you asked to see me? when exactly?"
"The next day, just a few hours before I was released that morning. Why?"
"What time?"
"What time? why does that matter?"
"Jo...please. Just humor me. What time was it?"
"Ok...I...I don't know, I believe it was around 6 am. I later left about 9."
"That son of a ..." Lee mumbled and turned away.
"Lee? what...what is going on?"
"Jo...I didn't leave the hospital until 8 am. Orlando had came into my office fifteen minutes before I left...and he never said a word about you....and now...after all this time...he still has said nothing about that."
"Lee, I am sure he just forgot. He had no idea we even knew each other then....well I mean, he knew that we had met but...I don't know...that morning, some bitch of a nurse was giving him a hard time about his handwriting and..."
"Jesus...so it was you he told me about...that got upset at the nurse."
"Told you about?"
"Yes, here...the night he came over to help with the house...the night before you came over the next day to check on me. He fucking knew all that time who you were and said nothing about you asking for me....and he knew when I told him about...I sat right there in the kitchen and told him of a patient I met...he knew who...he fucking knew."
"Lee, calm down. He knew when you told him about what?"
"You Jo...I was talking to him about you. I didn't mention your name...Look, when he got here, he smelled your perfume. It was all over my shirt from the day before when you had helped me up off of the floor...so then he started grilling me about having a woman here....and he caught on in the continued conversation from my discreetness that it was you, but the little shit never said a word....and still didn't when he later saw you here. Now it all makes sense."
"Lee...I'm sure it wasn't intentional?"
"Jo, did you not just hear a thing I said? The hell it wasn't intentional. He had interest in you and he picked up on the fact that I did too at some point. Most likely when you had asked for me when I wasn't your doctor. He didn't forget Jo...and what's his excuse after all this time huh? And now he has asked you out. Common sense right there."
"Ok...so, what if you're right. Is it that much of a big deal? I told you I will cancel it because I would like to stay here with you."
"No Jo...you already told him you would go....and for you to accept...you must have some interest in him? And now...you're defending him too after knowing what I told you, which verifies that interest. You're right, it's no big deal. We had a moment, but like you, I have had too many bad moments to let another one happen. Just go Jo. You don't want to be late."
Lee walked to the front door and opened it, waiting for you to do as he told you.
You stared at him for a moment and then just sighed out a sarcastic breath in disbelief as you walked onto the porch and turned to look at him.
"Really Lee? After everything, you're gonna pull the noble asshole card?"
He was speechless as he gazed at you with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly hung open.
"I wanted to be here tonight. After all the bullshit today, I just wanted to be here with you...and I wanted to be honest with you, so I told you about Orlando...and I was willing to cancel that so I could be with YOU because for the first time in forever, I had actually felt safe and happy around someone...that someone being you...but that was just not good enough for you was it? We've both been through some shitty relationships obviously, with cheating partners, but I'm not Elizabeth Lee! I have had my own walls up just like you and I swore that no one would ever break through them...and then...I let my guard down and let you in...Maybe I was wrong about you...trusting you and all, because you're obviously too far gone to see what the fuck is right in front of you."
Your words rocked him to his core.
You marched down the steps and then spun back around.
"I"ll go out with your best friend, but only because you told me to, and you can sit here all alone knowing I could have been here, right where I wanted to be! But you're too damn petulant....or better yet...you're what you said you were...your own worst enemy."
You ran to your car and sped off. Lee stood on the porch watching you leave as he recalled that day he told you that, standing at your car in his driveway listening to that song.
What did he just do, he asked himself...and WHY? He had the most precious thing right in his grasp and he let it slip right out of his hands. He knew why...and he admitted it to himself in that moment. He was scared...scared to death..... because he knew he was truly, madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with you.
"You think the shadow of doubt is hanging over my head, it's just an angel who's wings hide the sun. It's myself I betray, I cannot wish this away. Took my chance, now the damage is done. All I want is everything. Am I asking too much?"
@redeemer46
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#lee pace#lee pace fanfiction#love stories#dark stories#slow burn#slow build#gerard butler#gerry butler#doctors#cops#detectives#salem massachusetts#def leppard#Youtube
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📓📓👀
Daingit I should have known it would be you 😂
Um ok here's to WIP hell I guess.
The first one is the OFMD idea I'm pretty sure you know about already but w/e. Basic plot is;
Alma runs away to sea at some point post ep10 but before the Blackbonnet reunion
She is found stowing away on a ship Ed & co are raiding
When asked what she's doing there (obviously rich kid, fairly clean and well fed etc etc) she says she's looking for her dad (just. Pretend this works with how e10 ended.)
In spite of himself, Ed is kind of invested. Life After Stede has been painfully, mind numbingly boring when it isn't just crushingly sad and he's once again desperate for a break in the monotony. Not getting attached this time though, no sir 🤡
There's a background here where since s1 Ed & Izzy's dynamic has gotten just, way more blatantly abusive, with Izzy lashing out with threats and verbal abuse (never in front of the crew) whenever he feels Ed isn't performing 'Blackbeard' convincingly enough. Most of the time, Ed's just dissociating to get through the day.
Anyway Ed decides he wants to help Alma find her dad (he has no idea who he is, she's not giving a name), with the justification to Izzy & the crew that she's obviously rich so her dad will probably pay a huge ransom to get her back.
So then there's an extended period of Alma living on the Revenge with Ed, Izzy, Jim & Frenchie & the rest of the crew
There's cute kid bonding with the crew bc I'm not made of stone, but the primary focus of this part of the story is on the dynamic between Ed, Alma and Izzy
Specifically with it mirroring the dynamic of Ed & his parents growing up
Alma= bb!Ed
Izzy= Ed's dad
Ed= His mum
So then it's Alma's POV of Izzy's abuse of Ed getting worse and eventually starting to spill over to her (Izzy generally fucking hates that there's this rando kid here now and also specifically thinks she's in the way of Ed being Blackbeard properly)
Culmination of the fic is Ed either killing or firing or otherwise doing something to Izzy to protect Alma (thematically it has to be murder but I don't like making my blorbo kill people)
This brings the parallel full circle with Ed protecting the kid he's basically adopted from a shitty violent white man in the way he wishes his mum had been able to protect him from his dad
Generic Blackbonnet Reunion Epilogue
The second idea newer and more vague but basically it's a TMA/Good Omens crossover called 'Hope, Love and Indigestion' (came up with the title first, can you tell?)
Current plot points include;
Aziraphale finds Pinhole Books while searching for a rare bible (leitners that are bibles anyone??)
The Boys(gn) adopt Gerry & exorcise Mary's horrible skin ghost & also get closure for Eric's horrible skin ghost
Something about how the Good Omens 'god' is the inverse of the TMA fear Entities, two halves of a whole that cannot exist without each other as per gomens themes about how binaries are dumb
Angels & demons are the positive entity equivalent of the fear avatars??? Maybe? Somehow?
Also I think Adam Young & Agnes Montague would get on really well
Mostly this is about how I like making A&C adopt traumatised children from other media
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MAG 48 - apple cutting
Did someone say anchor statement???
"I’d pick up travelling companions for a few days here and there, but for the most part I would spend weeks without speaking my own language." - As someone from East/Central Europe with a bunch of US friends I talked about this a lot and how it affects us. Like the US is huge, but in every state they will speak your language. In Europe I can drive 100 north, boom, Czech. 250 km to the south, boom, Slovenian. 300 km south, Italian. 300 km east, Hungarian. 300 km southeast, Serbocroatian… Only big brother Germany is convenient xD And trust me, there are so, sooo many people who really can't speak English in Europe. There was a study not long ago which claimed that Austria was the second best European country regarding being able to speak English (Number 1 was the Netherlands, if I remember correctly) and I was shocked, like "How bad is it in other countries then because Austrians are shit when it comes to English."
"Obviously, I couldn’t do another four months, but I figured that just the one would let me revisit my favorite spots in the south – Slovenia, Switzerland, Bavaria, Italy, maybe Monaco or bits of southern France." - Wow, wonderfully left out the obvious space of Austria there, I'm heartbroken (jk, I know Austria gets full attention in two statements).
Somehow, now hearing a British person talking about travel in Italy I can't think of anything other than James May, our man in Italy! XD
Last year for vacation I was in Italy in September as well. It's really perfect, school has started again so you're off-season and the weather is still super warm or even hot.
"He was pale, scrawny almost, and looked utterly out of place. His loose, bright shirt was in stark contrast to his long, black hair." - Gerry!
"He was staring at me with an air of concentration. Like he was trying to read something written very small on my forehead." - Hahahaha, I imagine him squinting at Andrea Nuniz with a puzzled look on his face XD
"what he wanted was to have a nice holiday in peace. He said it in a really accusatory way, like I was ruining his holiday somehow, and I said so. He sighed and said that he wasn’t in the business of helping strays" - very subtle static there. Also I just wanna say that I love Gerry. Good-hearted characters are often described as Golden Retrievers, which doesn't really fit him very well, so I'd say he's that stray dog that pretends they don't care but is actually really friendly and kind.
"Was I married? Did I have a fiance, partner, friends? I told him no, not really. I was just about sick of his stupid questions, but he sounded oddly desperate. Siblings? No." - Desperately scrambling for an anchor to save that poor traveller's life.
"Mother? Of course I had a mother." - lol
"As I left, I heard him call after me, telling me to remember my mother, to keep her face in my mind." - anchor, anchor, anchor!
"My first move was to try and locate that street market he’d mentioned. Perhaps it wasn’t just hidden away, perhaps it had been actually illegal, and he’d gotten caught up in something he shouldn’t have." - Well good idea going to look for him on your own, I guess?…
"My first move was to try and locate that street market he’d mentioned. Perhaps it wasn’t just hidden away, perhaps it had been actually illegal, and he’d gotten caught up in something he shouldn’t have." - Good job, Jon!
"She’s been doing her work with the same diligence as before the Prentiss incident" - I think it's hilarious that the Not!Them had to work an office job for about 6 to 7 months XD
Oh yes, ending with a wonderful scene about evidence of Jon getting more and more unhinged. Great comedy! On my first listen I really didn't expect Elias to be the big bad at this point, just a normal corporate asshole. I actually thought Martin was kinda sus, disappearing into the tunnel during the Prentiss attack, finding Gertrude's body, the letter to his mother etc. Not in a bad way sus, I just thought he would definitely be more involved than it seems.
He was a lot more involved in the end
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Headcanons for the Derry Girls Halloween Episode:
. The gang end up going to the Fatboy Slim concert while the adults are at a costume party hosted by Janette Joyce, who's attempting to repair her friendship with Mary and the girls (baby Anna is in the care of a babysitter).
. Everyone is positively buzzing for the concert - well, mostly. This is the first time James and Erin after the Donegal kiss, and like most teens would be, they're feeling confused as hell and kind of down in the dumps that they most likely can't be together. Erin being Erin is determined to just shove her feelings down inside and enjoy the concert.
. We all know the gang are dressed as angels for the concert but I think the adults' costumes would be really fun. Gerry gets roped into being part of a group ABBA costume with Mary, Sarah and Ciaran and Granda Joe tries to incorporate Seamus into his but is stopped by Mary's insistence that he can't bring a cat with murderous tendencies to a Halloween party.
. Mary finally gets to hoke inside the Joyce's house and cannot believe her eyes at the eight bedrooms with en-suites. The sheer size of the kitchen makes her catch her breath.
. It's hinted that Granda Joe has a heart attack in this episode and while it's obviously a very serious thing, I think the setup could be really funny. For example, Ciaran and Sarah have been going steady for about a year now, so what if he decides to take the leap at this party and propose? And at the exact moment he does and he and Sarah and everyone else is celebrating, Granda Joe clutches his chest and collapses. Luckily Janette's husband Richard is able to give him something from his medical bag while the ambulance is called and Gerry is sent out to find the girls.
. Back at the concert things are not going great for Erin. She's trying to enjoy herself but just can't get that kiss out of her head. The rest of the girls are having the time of their lives (and I'll think we'll see Claire meet a love interest!) and suddenly she sees James across the room chatting with a girl. They go off to dance and something just snaps in Erin and she storms out on the verge of tears. As we've seen from the photos James follows her and they have an argument - Erin says she knows she said they couldn't be together but not because she doesn't feel the same way, because of what Michelle said and the repercussions it could have and maybe if they weren't in Derry it would be different and James clearly feels the same but because of their situation they're sort of in an impossible situation.
And Erin is about to say something else when they get interrupted by Gerry in full ABBA attire racing down the hallway towards them, and he fills them in on what's happened to Joe and they have to gather the rest of the gang and get to the hospital.
. When they arrive everyone's a mess. Poor Ciaran is sitting in the waiting room with Sarah patting his shoulder while he's having hysterics about accidentally killing his future father-in-law and Mary's pacing up and down the room with a death grip on her rosary. Orla (who I'm 100% certain is autistic) is quickly overwhelmed by the confusing scene and has to be comforted by the girls. They spend two full hours waiting in agonising silence, all the while Erin's thoughts being bombarded with horrible possibilities and outcomes and she can't face losing her grandad so she just gets up and walks away as fast as she can. She doesn't even know where's she going until she hears James calling out behind her, having followed her to make sure she's okay and she wants to tell him to go away, that she can't deal with their shit on top of all of this but instead she just... crumbles. She cries harder than she ever has before and James just immediately pulls her into a hug and comforts her while she lets its all out. And when she's finally done she just looks up at him and says she can't wait. She doesn't want to after what's just happening, life's too fucking short, and grabs his face and they kiss in the empty hallway.
. Meanwhile, the doctor finally comes out and informs everyone that it turns out Ciaran did not in fact accidentally kill Joe, but that Joe has a genetic disease that causes clogged arteries combined with the fact that he ate too many cheese cubes at the party. He also tells them Joe will be waking up in a few minutes and they're welcome to sit in his room until then. Ciaran nearly sobs with relief before realising with a degree of horror that now Joe's not dead, he may very well kill him for proposing to Sarah😅
. Mary goes off to find Gerry, who's getting tea for everyone and missed the news that Joe's stable. After navigating the maze of corridors and rooms she goes through a door and to her surprise finds her husband, standing still as a statue, peering round the corner and into a hallway. She approaches him to tell him the news but is quickly shushed by a shocked Gerry, who responds to her bewildered look by just pointing down the hall to the figures of their daughter and the wee English fella wrapped in each other's arms and kissing passionately.
. For a good minute neither of them know what to say, until Gerry remarks that maybe they should give them a few minutes before breaking the news about Joe. They attempt to make a sneaky exit and tiptoe away but Gerry accidentally stubs his foot on a bin and manages to knock the entire thing over with a very loud clang in perfect Derry Girls comedic timing, which alerts Erin and James to their presence. Erin is just about up to here with people walking in on her and James shifting and just shouts,
"For God's sake, is there no such thing as privacy?!"
To which Mary retorts that they're in a public hospital. Meanwhile Gerry's brain has gone completely blank, still shocked by the image of his daughter snogging the face off James fecking Maguire, so he just does the first thing that comes to mind, grabs James's hand and starts shaking it vigorously. And James and Erin can only stare at him in absolute confusion until Mary yanks his hand away and asks what the hell he's doing, to which he responds he just panicked😅 She rolls her eyes at her eejit husband and says they'll discuss whatever the feck's happening between James and Erin later, and marches the trio back to Granda Joe's room.
. Granda Joe is now awake but absolutely flying on the morphine. He's convinced he's in heaven due to the fact that five angels appear to have congregated around his bed, and keeps asking if God would allow him to bring Seamus the cat with him to eternity. That is, until Gerry enters the room and he remarks that this must be some strange version of hell. Michelle nearly chokes trying to keep her laughter in. Ciaran keeps hovering nervously by the edge of the room until Joe nods towards him and says to Sarah that her fella's a disaster at proposing but if he makes her happy he supposes he can learn to tolerate him.
. That's all I've got! Feel free to add to this and comment your feedback:)
#derry girls headcanons#jerin derry girls#derry girls#derry girls season 3#jerin#james x erin#james x erin headcanons#granda joe#gerry quinn#mary quinn#erin quinn
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Alright, here’s my nerdy reason for not liking the idea of Marty and Deborah ending up together...
Thematic dissonance
Everyone knows I support the idea of an Ava/Deborah endgame (whether or not it will happen is a separate issue), but if I’m trying to temper my expectations, I would gladly accept an ending where Deborah does end up single but 1) her and Marty are fucking over and I mean for good this time. She is not wasting anymore time or energy on that garbage man. And 2) if I’m really shooting for the stars, I would also like to see Deborah possibly explore her sexuality beyond men because so far that hasn’t made her happy. Whether or not, she partners with Ava is besides the point. I would love to see Ava supporting baby gay Deborah, even if she’s not giving her the practical experience, if you know what I’m saying.
But to me, not only is Marty a terrible choice but it also doesn’t make sense with the story they’re telling.
Allow me to explain with a couple of other pairings I like who are toxic as fuck like Deborah and Marty except I actually like those.
Two that come to mind are Eve and Villanelle from Killing Eve and Roman and Gerri from Succession.
These pairings measured by all standards of what would be considered a healthy relationship, completely fail. They can be awful to each other and they’re all not good people.
But these pairings are fun to enjoy because they make sense within the context of the story. Both of these shows are dark and are about toxic relationships and power dynamics. It would be weirder if these pairings weren’t messed up.
But Deborah and Marty are a toxic couple in an otherwise pretty hopeful and optimistic show. They bring out the worst in each other, there’s no real consistency in how they feel about each other or how intertwined they’re in each other’s lives and their whole relationship is based in uncertainty of where it’s heading and what they are to each other.
With Gerri and Roman and Eve and Villanelle that’s all fine because that’s the point. That uncertainty and that push and pull are part of the intrigue.
However, Marty offers no growth for Deborah.
In a show, that seems to want so badly to see Deborah grow and come back to a more authentic version of herself, it just doesn’t make any sense to pair her with someone who represents falling back into old, toxic patterns. If the point going forward is for Deborah to tell her own story even if it doesn’t get her external validation, then why be with a man who she can’t ever seem to be good enough for in his eyes? A man who really only seems to care about what she can offer him in terms of money or sex, but doesn’t care to know her deeply or curious about her inner life.
That cut to Deborah as Ava says, “I think it’s really cool that you found someone who loves you for exactly who you are” tells us Deborah wants that too but fears she won’t ever find that. She wants to be loved exactly as she is now regardless of her age, regardless of whether or not her show takes off. For such a famous person, it would make sense that Deborah wants someone who will stay even when the spotlight isn’t on her anymore. Someone who she’s built a strong private connection with and won’t drop her the minute they can make their image look a little bit better. If in the 30 years that they’ve known each other, Marty can’t find a way to be that person, he’s not going to be.
To me, the best couples are also ones that embody the themes of the story they’re in. I obviously think that fits Ava and Deborah perfectly, but who knows if that’s going to happen.
But that sure as fuck doesn’t apply to Deborah and Marty.
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"Vet AU" as in veterinarian? Definitely curious about that, vets don't get nearly enough love in fiction :) I had never considered that as an AU, but now I'm immediately picturing how it would go!
The Vet AU! Yes, Vet as in Veterinarian.
This one’s a bit scattered, so I’ll just post what I have written and let it speak for itself:
---
Martin was in the middle of doing payroll when Sasha poked her head into the office with a polite knock on the doorframe. “Hey Martin, Room 2 is ready for you.”
“Oh! Thanks.” Quickly, Martin finished filling in the last number, then saved the spreadsheet and got up from his chair. At the sight of her, he bit back a chuckle—she had one of the new puppies settled against her shoulder, wiggling and poking around like a furry little worm. “Tim leave you on babysitting duty?”
“Not his fault,” Sasha said with a grin. “He’s dealing with the rottweiler situation in 5. You good?”
“Yeah, fine—remind me who’s waiting for me in 2 again?”
“According to the appointment schedule, you’ll be handling a general check-up for ‘Sticks’,” Sasha replied. “New patient, new owner.”
“Right, right, yeah.”
They usually stuck him with the first-time patients. Not that Tim and Sasha weren’t perfectly friendly and welcoming, but Martin—at least according to them—had very calming manners. He had the appearance of someone pleasant, patient, and according to Sasha, far less likely to go off on people who came in asking to declaw their cats.
“I have gone off on people for asking to declaw their cats,” Martin had said when she told him this.
“Oh, obviously. You just look like someone who wouldn’t, that’s all.”
That was what he got for being the only one with years of retail experience.
As he approached the door to the examination room, he took a few settling breaths. First-time appointments weren’t always a big deal. A majority of the time, they went smoothly; the animals weren’t familiar enough with what went on in a vet office to be nervous about it, and their owners were just as eager to be polite and pleasant as he was. But once in a while…
Well, once in a while you got someone like Peter fucking Lukas—
He shook his head. No, don’t think about Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas wasn’t worth wasting the space in his brain.
Martin settled his face into a resting pleasant expression, and opened the door.
It didn’t take a great deal of self-control not to stop in his tracks, but it did take a little. More than none. It wasn’t anything bad! Nothing against this new pet owner.
Less than nothing, if Martin were privately, sheepishly honest with himself.
The person was standing by the examination table, with a cat-sized pet carrier beside them. They were tall enough for Martin to look them in the eye without tipping his chin down, which put them a cut above most. Their hair was shoulder-length, mostly black with a bit of dark blond creeping in at the roots, framing a jawline and cheekbones so sharply defined that there had to be at least a bit of makeup involved. The snakebite piercing and the bar through the eyebrow really rounded out the whole look, especially with the long black coat, and the tattoos on the hand that rested on top of the box.
Very nice hands, Martin noted, then shrugged off the observation and funneled all his nervous energy into the safety of politeness.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Dr. Blackwood.”
They shook the hand he offered. “Gerry. Ke—Delano. Thanks for seeing me.”
“No trouble at all,” Martin replied, nodding toward the pet carrier. “I assume that’s my patient in there?”
“Oh, right, yeah—gimme a second.” Gerry Delano unlocked the carrier, then carefully reached in and lifted its occupant out onto onto the table.
“Oh, aren’t you lovely,” Martin murmured. “This is Sticks?”
“That’s him,” Gerry replied, as the small, fluffy, and perfectly black rabbit stretched forward to give a spot on the table a sniff, then retreated back into a loaf shape. Gerry stroked him gently. “Least I think it’s a him.”
“Well, let’s see, then.” Martin reached out, careful not to spook his new patient, and started examining her. He—yes, he—handled it all about as calmly as a nervous rabbit could. Martin didn’t have to grab a towel, at least, nor did he have a repeat of the time a nervous lop tried to jump off the examination table entirely. Sticks tolerated all the poking, prodding, and manhandling, and only got wriggly once before a quick pause and readjustment calmed him back down.
“So how long have you had him?” Martin asked, once he was done. Sticks immediately fled to the nearest safe haven, which turned out to be his owner’s armpit.
“Less than a week, since Monday,” Gerry replied, petting him as he attempted to burrow deeper into his jacket.
“Well, he’s a touch underweight,” Martin told him. “There’s some information I can give you on rabbit care, if this is your first time owning one. He’s not neutered, is he?”
“Probably not,” Gerry replied, grimacing. “I don’t know much about his history. I took him off an acquaintance who got him as a present and wasn’t doing a very good job of things.”
Martin pulled a face. “Pets make poor presents, yeah. Well, he’s old enough to be fixed, and with history like that he probably hasn’t gotten the shots he needs. After we’re done here, you can talk to Rosie out front, schedule another appointment to get those done. What do you feed him?”
Gerry, as Martin discovered, was an absolutely model rabbit owner. He’d done his homework, read up on how to keep a rabbit happy and healthy, and hadn’t scrimped on expenses. It was no wonder Sticks was happy to hide under his arm for the remainder of the appointment; he had a good home with good food and toys and what sounded like a nice setup, habitat-wise.
“What sort of vegetables are good for him?” they asked at one point. “I’m thinking of growing some. I’ve got the space, but I’ve heard too much causes problems?”
They want to grow vegetables for their pet rabbit, Martin thought, a little dreamily. “Leafy greens are a safe bet,” he replied out loud. “Romaine, parsley, cilantro, kale, that sort of thing. Work them in slowly if he’s not used to them, and he’ll be fine. I can give you a list, if you’d like?”
When the appointment was done, a future one scheduled, and the patient safely back in his carrier, Martin finally let himself ask the question that had been on his mind.
“So, is there a special meaning to ‘Sticks’?” he asked. “Is it short for something, or does he like to play with them, or…?”
“What?” Gerry looked confused for a moment, before the question seemed to click. “Oh, no, not Sticks like—he’s Styx as in the river.”
“Oh! Styx, of course. Sorry, I just—I heard it, but I didn’t see it written down—”
Gerry’s grin was crooked, like they were trying to hold it back but only partially succeeding. “It’s fine. And thanks for everything.”
“Oh, no problem, you’re doing great,” Martin assured him, smiling back. “He’s lucky to have you.”
He was pleasantly baffled when a bit of color crept into Gerry’s face. “Right, well, who can resist a bunny.”
“You’d be surprised,” Martin said as he showed him out of the room. “If I get one more new rabbit owner telling me about their lovely outdoor hutch—”
Gerry looked scandalized at the thought as he left, which was another point in his favor.
“What’s that look for?” Tim asked as Martin passed him on the way back to the office. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me Jon has competition again?”
“Oh my God, Tim, give that a rest. There was never any competition!”
“Yeah, Tim, keep it straight, will you?” Sasha called out from the temporary puppy pen. “Oliver wasn’t competition. Martin was jealous of him, remember?”
“Nothing straight about it,” Tim shot back.
“I have payroll to do,” Martin reminded them primly. “You trust me with our finances and then you treat me like this. How dare you. I’m defrauding both of you, see if I don’t.”
***
It wasn’t that Martin fell in love easily, per se. It was just that he had a very specific set of standards when it came to who he found attractive, and in his line of work he always ran into people who either met every single one of them, or disappointed him in every possible way.
When he stepped into examination room 4 and found Jon Sims trying to herd three kittens away from the edge of the examination table at once, he kept his deep sigh on the inside. Jon was batting a thousand, and he’d been coming around long enough for everyone in the clinic to know about it.
“Hello again, Jon,” Martin said, doing a wretched job of hiding his smile.
Jon looked up with a helpless expression. “It’s kitten season,” he said, and Martin poured all his sympathies into a more situation-appropriate sigh.
“It’s kitten season,” Martin agreed. “So, where did these little ones come from?”
“These came from the colony in Battersea,” he replied. “Well, sort of. The mother already has an owner, and said owner keeps letting her out every day, even though I’ve told her time and again there’s that unfixed tom I’ve never been able to catch—and that’s just the one I know of—”
Martin scowled as he examined one of the squirming kittens. Much easier to manhandle than rabbits, he thought, apropos of nothing. “Better than being born on the street, I suppose.”
“Small mercies,” Jon agreed. “Anyway, when the kittens were born she told me either I could take them or she was going to take them to the park and give them out for free, which really isn’t a choice at all. Poor things.” The ginger kitten in his hands squealed until he settled it more comfortably against his shoulder, where it calmed down and immediately tried to eat his hair.
“Gonna find a foster for them, then?” Martin asked.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Jon sighed. “I’d do it myself, but—you know how Duchess is.”
“Yes. How is Duchess, by the way?”
“Cantankerous as ever. You don’t happen to have room, do you?”
“Room, yes. Time…” The black kitten was finished with her exam, and protested when she was put back in the carrier. “Did Sasha tell you about the puppies?”
“I haven’t seen Sasha today,” Jon replied, handing over the ginger kitten when Martin reached for it. “What puppies?”
“Rosie came in early this morning,” Martin informed him, wincing when the kitten bit hard on his thumb. “There was a box waiting by the door, with four puppies inside. No note or anything. So, that’s been fun.”
“I can imagine,” Jon said distastefully. “Are you serious? Someone just left a box of puppies on the doorstep? Like foundlings in a Dickens novel?”
Martin snorted before he could think better of it, startling the kitten into biting him again. Jon was the only person he’d ever met who would use a word like foundlings. “More or less. They are cute, though. Tim says his brother might be interested in taking one, and Sasha says she’s got friends who volunteer at a dog rescue. Retrievers usually aren’t too hard to adopt out.”
“Well, good luck to you. I suppose the season’s hard on everyone.”
The three kittens were in good health, which Martin was more or less expecting. Kittens tended to have a better chance when born in a home than out in the street—even in a less than responsible home. Between the two of them, Martin and Jon got them back into the battered old carrier, where they went back to wrestling each other in the blankets. Jon reached in to tickle one between the ears and got nipped for his troubles, but it only made him smile.
“Well, anyway,” Martin went on, realizing that he’d been staring long enough for it to be rude. “I don’t think you need any follow-up care instructions?”
Jon laughed quietly before closing the carrier. “No, I think I’m alright. Thank you, Martin.”
“It’s not problem. Always a pleasure.” Martin beamed. “Good luck on finding them a foster. And—catching that tom.”
“One of these days, I swear.”
Martin showed him back out to the front. Not necessary, considering how often Jon walked that hallway. But it felt nice to walk beside him, talking shop or chatting about nothing, all to the background tune of healthy, vocal kittens.
After waving Jon off, he turned back to find Sasha watching him from behind the front desk, chin in hand, the very picture of unimpressed.
“What,” said Martin.
“He’s been coming in for months,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to make a move or not?”
“No I’m not going to—Sasha, he’s a client.”
“So? It’s not like you’re his doctor. There’s no conflict of interest or weird power dynamic when your role in his life is taking care of animals he brings in.” Sasha sat back, letting the swivel chair roll backward. “You’re already chatting like old friends every time you see him.”
“I know, I know, it’s just—it’s weird?” Martin shrugged helplessly. “We only ever meet during business hours, so it’s like—how much of our, our, our friendliness is just a working relationship?”
“Easy fix!” Sasha spread her hands wide. “The man works at a cat rescue! You can just swing by and say hello anytime!”
“He works there part-time, and I don’t know what hours! Not like I can just stand outside and case the place until I see him.”
At that moment, the door to the back swung open, and Tim poked his head out. “Could I get some help? Bailey’s giving me some trouble and I need an extra set of hands.”
“Be right there,” Martin replied. To Sasha, he said, “Look, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, we’re just two people who keep meeting in very specific circumstances. And that’s all it needs to be.”
Sasha sighed. “I just think you’re making this out to be more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Martin muttered, and followed Tim into the back.
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Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?
I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?
CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up.
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”
Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”
Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.
Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.
Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity. Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.
Martin…
They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.
Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.
Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with.
Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?
Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars.
They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks.
“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”
“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”
“We all knew, honey.”
Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”
“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”
“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat.
“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”
Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk.
“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”
“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”
“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”
“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly.
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”
Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”
Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.
Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.
Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity. Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.
Martin…
In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan.
Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical.
“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”
Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two.
There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline.
No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won.
When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar.
Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”
“Uh,” Martin said intelligently.
“Any day now,” Jon said frostily.
Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group - not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake.
“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”
“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…”
“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”
“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”
“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?”
They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room.
Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”
“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”
“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”
“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”
“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered.
“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.”
“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly.
Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”
“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”
“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”
Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested.
Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back.
“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”
But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”
“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”
Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”
“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”
Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”
“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”
“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.
Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest.
He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”
Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them.
He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.
Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that.
It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public.
Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap.
Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm.
“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”
“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”
Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”
Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home.
On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder.
When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -
Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye.
The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”
Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”
“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”
“Oh, boy,” Martin said.
“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”
Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable.
Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”
“Shut it off, Jon!”
Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it.
“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”
Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.
Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”
“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”
“Jon!”
“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”
“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”
“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”
But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”
“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”
“Jon.”
“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”
Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck.
“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”
Jon shrugged uncomfortably.
“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”
The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”
“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”
Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?
Well, Martin probably had more practice…
“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”
After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”
Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”
Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”
He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this.
“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”
“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”
Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers.
But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.
It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all.
So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time.
He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually.
Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…
When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -
It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.
This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.
In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real.
*
Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34
Tim: good time last night tho
Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always
*
Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!!
Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?
Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean
Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!!
Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi.
#my writing#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin#tim stoker#sasha james#tma fanfic#the magnus archives fanfiction#jon in sb: i will pretend to be the man who was your friend if it'll make you like me#jon here: HAHA KNOW WHAT'D BE HOT?
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Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 3
Word Count: 6,077
POV: Jamie and then switches to reader
Warnings: Language that’s about it for this one.
Notes: Here we go on Part 3. Hope you guys are enjoying this little story. As always feedback is welcomed, good or bad. Happy Reading!
Ruined Masterlist
JAMIE'S POV
Standing there in the kitchen, rooted to the same spot you were just twenty-four hours ago, you still couldn't believe all that had happened. In that short span of time, you'd learned that not only was your new neighbor the woman who you first fell in love, and happened to still be in love with, but that she was also going to be your new team doctor. You spent most of last night tossing and turning in bed, trying to come up with a way to worm your way back into her heart, which seemed to be locked up as tight as Fort Knox against you.
She was still as stunning as ever and your hands still burned with the feel of her curves on your skin. To think that she was only a couple doors away and that you could be holding her again was sheer torture. (Y/N) had always been amazing, at least in your eyes, but now she was just even more. She'd gone out there and become one of the top orthopedic and sports medicine doctors out there, from what you'd heard from the Stars trainers. Why you were surprised, you weren't one hundred percent sure? In high school, she'd always been smart and at the top of your class, even if she made some poor choices once you'd broken up. Now though, she seemed to be doing everything right; except for maybe not giving you a second chance. You had plenty of time to fix that, if only you could come up with a plan.
You were interrupted from your thoughts, by four paws tapping on your kitchen floor. "Hey Ger, what are you doing here?" You said, as you bent and petted Tyler's youngest dog.
"We're going for a walk after you and I work out." Gerry's owner told you, as he sauntered in behind the pup. "Going to check out that new neighbor of yours. Well, ours really, since my house isn't too far away."
"Oh, no you're not."
Tyler's brow shot up in question. "Why? Have you met her or something? Does she have some fatal flaw I should be aware of?"
Your eyes practically rolled in your head at his comment. "No smart ass, she flawless, but she's also off-limits."
"Yeah, doctor husband or something like that. I'm sure he's gone all hours and she might in fact be bored. You know doctors are notorious cheats."
"And you're not?" It really was the pot calling the kettle black and all. Tyler just shrugged the comment off though. He never truly considered it cheating if he was in an open relationship, too bad the women he dated didn't feel the same way. "There is no husband."
"Perfect. But wait then who's the doctor?"
"She is."
Tyler's eyes got big as he let the information sink in. "So, she's going to be working on us." You nodded your head yes. "Even better. I'll definitely be a needy patient."
"No, you won't." Before he could even ask why you added. "She's also my ex."
"Wait a minute…hold up here. You have an ex that's a doctor. How did I not know this?"
"Because I didn't know she was." You see Tyler trying to put the pieces together and still not making them fit. It was a complicated situation, so you thought it best to help fill him in. "(Y/N)'s my ex from high school. She's also the first girl I ever loved."
"Wait, doctor neighbor is (Y/N)? As in the first girl you ever kissed and the first girl you ever fucked?"
"Who told you that?" As soon as you asked the question, you already knew the answer.
"Jordie, of course." Of course, it was your big brother. You should've figured he'd spill the beans about that to Tyler. "And according to him, you never got over her." You weren't exactly sure you wanted to admit that, so you kept your mouth shut, which apparently said more than actual words. "You ARE still in love with her, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
Tyler rubbed his hands together in a sinister way that told you he was up to no good. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
"No, it's not, because you're not going to do a damn thing."
"Who said I was? I'm just going to enjoy the show." The devious smirk on his face told you a different story.
"I know you…" you didn't get to finish that thought, as the front door opened and Gerry started to bark at whoever just entered.
"Hey Ger," you heard the recognizable voice of your brother Jordie. "Thought you guys would already be working out by now, but it looks like you're getting a late start."
"Only because this guy is too busy fawning over the new neighbor," Tyler commented hitting your shoulder and you punched him in the arm back. "Ouch." You hit him hard but not as hard as you really wanted to.
"New neighbor huh?"
"Yup, and she's a doctor." Tyler just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?
"So, she took the job huh?"
"Wait, you knew (Y/N) was coming here and you didn't tell me?" It was like you were back in high school all over again and Jordie just continued to find ways to torture you.
Jordie's hand wiped down the front of his face and pulled on his beard. He didn't need to answer you for you to know that he knew (Y/N) had moved to Dallas. "Justin mentioned she was offered the job, but he didn't know if she was going to take it."
"Why wouldn't she?" Jordie cocked his head to the side. "Of course, don't say it. It was because of me." A nod of the head was all the confirmation that was needed from Jordie. "Still doesn't explain why you didn't tell me."
"I didn't see a reason to tell you until I knew for sure, and I haven't talked to Justin for a bit. It's not like I just call him and up all the time and ask him about (Y/N)."
"Why didn't you tell me she was a doctor at least? You've obviously known that for a while."
Jordie blew out a frustrated breath. "Have you ever seen yourself when someone mentions her name?" You hadn't, but really you imagined you looked the same as you always did; so you simply shrugged at Jordie. "You look like Gerry when Tyler doesn't pay attention to him." You looked over at Gerry, who seemed to look rather pleased with himself, so you couldn't see anything wrong with that. "Scratch that. You look like Cash and Marshall, who are both sulking at home because they know Gerry is Tyler's favorite."
"Hey, I love all my children equally." Tyler protested though you knew Jordie was right in his assessment. Tyler's other two dogs were undoubtedly at home moping because he didn't bring them and would probably ignore Tyler completely when he got home. It left you wondering if you did the same anytime anyone mentioned (Y/N)'s name. Did you just go sulk in the corner when anyone brought her up? You threw your head back trying to think about the last time anyone ever said anything about her. It had been a few years, but you did remember your mom mentioning something about her and what did you do; you'd walked out of the room and went for a run not even choosing to listen to what your mother had to say.
The question now, was why did you do that? The answer was obvious, now that you'd seen her. You still loved her and it hurt. Fuck. At first, you'd done it to protect yourself, because you couldn't stand hearing about her being with another guy. She'd practically made the rest of her way through high school fucking other guys and it killed you, that someone else was touching her, kissing her, loving her. Well, they would never her love her like you did and that's what hurt the most, that she would give herself to some guy that wouldn't treasure her as you did. But then you hadn't cherished her as you should have. "Fuck!" You slammed your hand down on the counter.
"You're doing it again," Jordie called out after you, and you hadn't realized you started to walk away. Only this time you weren't leaving because you didn't want to hear what was said about her; you were running away from your feelings for her. You'd been doing that since the day the rumors started about her. It was time to stop running.
You turned back to Jordie and Tyler. "How do I get her back?" Tyler's eyebrows shot up, whereas a huge grin broke out on Jordie's face.
"About time you finally realized you needed to fight for her."
"I did."
"No, you didn't. You tried for a week, gave up, and have spent over a decade avoiding your feelings for her. That's not fighting for someone." Well, when Jordie put it that way, you really couldn't argue.
"Alright, but what do I do now?"
"That's a tough one brother. You've got a lot to make up for in her eyes."
"I already fucked up when I ran into her yesterday. She's never going to speak to me again."
"Unless you get injured and she has to," Tyler said and you both turned to him with an incredulous look. "What? It's true. She's the team doctor. She'd have to talk to you then." He wasn't wrong, but it seemed sort of underhanded, and the last thing you needed was her thinking you lied again.
"Not an option." You told your best friend. "She'll see right through it if it's a lie and I don't plan on injuring myself on purpose."
"Well, if there's anything good about the situation; it's that you've got time on your side." Jordie was right. You had a whole season to win her back, now all you needed was a plan to do that.
READER'S POV
It was twenty-four hours later and you still couldn't get Jamie Benn out of your head. Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. Why did he have to look so good after all these years? That beard, you had no idea that beards were your thing until you saw him in one. And those muscles, Jesus, when did he get those. The feel of his abs were still imprinted on your fingertips from trying to steady yourself when you'd run into him. This was not good, not good at all. You should not be thinking about Jamie, let alone in this way.
You unpacked yet another box, hoping to distract yourself from lustful thoughts of your ex who also happened to be the hot hockey player that lived just two doors down. 'Remember all the things he said about you;' you told yourself as you placed a vase on the end table in the living room. He'd ruined your reputation with just a few words and he could do it again if you didn't steal yourself against him. But damn, if he didn't look good, just standing there shirtless.
A knock at the door, thankfully interrupted your thoughts. You headed to the foyer to answer it and were surprised to see yet another bearded Benn staring back at you. "Heard you'd moved to town," Jordie said by way of greeting. "Thought we'd come by and welcome you to the neighborhood." It was then that you realized standing beside him was a petite blonde woman with the most inviting smile on her face.
"Hi, I'm Jessi." She held out her for you to shake.
"(Y/N), it's nice to meet you. Won't you guys come in?" You stepped aside and they followed you into the house. "Sorry, this place is a mess. I'm still trying to get things together since the movers left."
"It looks great," Jessi told you and you knew she had to be lying but it was still nice of her to try. "Believe me, I still have boxes I haven't unpacked from our move to Montreal and now we're heading to Vancouver."
"Well, I'd call it a win then." You shrugged and she laughed. "Less packing."
"For sure," she agreed. "This is for you. I wasn't quite sure about what to bring as a housewarming gift but I figured this goes for any occasion." She handed over a bag, which contained two bottles of very expensive wine in it.
"This is absolutely perfect. It's like you knew I needed this."
"I have a feeling we are going to be very good friends," Jessi told you, that warm smile gracing her face again. "Speaking of which, Jordie and I are having a dinner party tomorrow night before he heads out of town for training camp. It's small just about ten or twelve people. We'd love to have you."
The hesitation that you experienced inside, must have somehow transferred to your face, for the next thing you knew Jordie was trying to reassure you. "Before you saying anything. Yes, Jamie is going to be there, but it's my understanding that you two are going to have to deal with each other a lot. Might as well try and be friends." You knew that Jordie was right. Despite what had happened in the past, and Jamie's assumption about you being in Dallas; the two of you were going to have to get along.
"Plus, I will gladly smack him upside the head if he gets out of line," Jessi added and got the impression that she would definitely keep her word. "So, what do you say? It will give you a chance to meet a couple of the other players as well."
You took a deep breath in, weighing your options. On one hand, you could stay here and let the wounds of long-ago fester, or on the other, you could try and at least be cordial to one another, after all, you would be seeing Jamie on a pretty regular basis. The last thing you wanted to do was give him the impression that what was between the two of you so long ago bothered you enough to avoid him. "I say sure," you told them, an excited look crossing Jessi's face. "What time?"
"Dinner's at seven, but come around six, so we can have a few drinks?" She looped her arm through yours, then proceeded to head back to your front door. "Or earlier. I'd love to get to know you better. Give me your phone. I'll text you our address the minute we get home. It's not far from here. Oh, and dinner is casual, so shorts or jeans are fine."
"Sounds great. Can I bring anything?"
"Just yourself."
"Yeah, looks like you have enough on your plate here," Jordie said, which garnered a whack across the back of his head from Jessi. "Ouch."
"See, I told you I wouldn't mind smacking Jamie if he acts up." The two of you burst out laughing leaving Jordie to rub the back of his head. "See you tomorrow."
Thank god, you went into your new place of work the next day or you would've spent the next twenty-four hours worrying about seeing Jamie. As it was, you'd already changed your outfit three times. At first, you'd gone with a pair of jean shorts and a black button-down but then felt it was almost too casual if you were going to be meeting some of the other players. So, you changed into a sundress but that gave off the vibe you were trying too hard. In the end, you opted for white shorts and a navy peplum off the shoulder top. It was definitely casual but also a little conservative at the same time.
Even though Jessi had said to come earlier than six, you opted to go on time, not wanting to rush her of getting things or herself ready. Their place was fairly close to yours, so it took no time at all to get there. You rang the doorbell, and Jessi answered. "(Y/N), it's so good to see you again, come in."
"I wasn't sure what to bring, but I remembered this used to be one of Jordie's favorites." It was Jamie's as well, but you chose to ignore that fact.
"Oh, what is it?" She asked referring to the cake box you held out.
It was then that Jordie appeared. "Tell me that's not what I think it is?"
"It is." Jordie's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas before he snatched the box out of your hands and proceeded to head down the hall to the kitchen.
"Hey, Jame, you'll never believe what (Y/N) brought." Shit, Jamie was here already. You'd hoped you had a little time to maybe mingle with some other people before he showed up.
Jamie stood there, beer in hand and smile on his face, as you walked into the kitchen. His grin grew a little wider as you walked into the room, whether that was from the cake or you, you weren't sure. Before either of you could mutter a word, Jessi cut in. "Obviously, I'm missing something here. One of you needs to feel me in."
"It's only the best chocolate cake on the planet." Jamie finally chimed in. "Hi (Y/N)."
"Hi Jamie," you greeted him back, yet blushed from his words of praise about your baking skills.
"I swear it's why I called this guy Chubbs back in the day. He would literally beg (Y/N) to make this for him all the time." Jordie contributed to the background story of the cake.
"Hey, you used to eat at least half of it." Jamie teased his brother back and you realized you missed their easy banter back and forth.
"It's true, I did," Jordie admitted to Jessi as he opened the refrigerator to put the cake inside, remembering how it was always better cold. "Maybe I should put this in the other fridge and we don't have to serve it when everyone else comes."
"Fuck that." Jamie cussed and you had to laugh. "You're sharing that bad boy with me."
"Wow, I've never seen them get this worked up over cake. I'm wondering if we should just eat it now before anyone else comes." Jessi told you as she helped Jordie make a spot in the fridge for the box.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Jamie asked turning that intense gaze of his on you. It was one that always left you hot and bothered when you were younger, and apparently, it was still doing that to this day.
"A beer would be great," you finally managed to mumble out.
"They're out here," Jamie told you and you followed him out the French doors onto the patio where a small fridge held several types of beers. Without thinking he grabbed you a Molson and twisted the cap off. "Oh shit, force of habit, I guess. Did you want something else?"
"No, this is fine."
"Remember the time we stole Heather Thompson's last two Molson's at Eric's party." both you and Jamie burst out laughing.
"She went around accusing everyone, while we drank them in the backseat of Justin's car." You added, but then there was also more that went on in that backseat.
"And then she thought Justin took them and went after him." Both of you were having a hard time catching your breath and finishing the story.
"But she tripped and landed face-first in the mud."
Jamie gave a loud bark of laughter at the memory and you found yourself laughing harder with him. It was just like that night, only then his arms had been looped around you as you both tried to stifle your giggles and not give yourself away. "She was so pissed. I'm pretty sure she never spoke to Justin again." Jamie remembered.
"He should be thanking us for that." It felt good to just laugh with Jamie. You took a long sip of your beer and realized how easy it would be to fall back into old times with Jamie; too easy. The thought sobered you. Jamie smiled at you, and damn if your stomach and heart didn't do that little fluttery thing it used to do. Both of you just standing there staring at the other neither willing to look away. It was almost as if to do so would be admitting there were still feeling there between you.
"Ouch!" Jessi screamed from inside, breaking whatever silent feelings were passing between the two of you. You both scrambled inside.
"Everything alright?" Jamie asked just as you were about to.
"Jess, cut herself," Jordie answered as he wrapped more paper towels around her thumb as the blood seemed to soak through the ones she had on currently.
"Here, let me take a look." It was a pretty deep cut, but also clean. "You're going to need a couple stitches. I have my bag in my car if you don't want to go to the emergency room."
"I can't go to the emergency room. There's no time." She looked at you with pleading eyes. "Is it going to hurt though?"
A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Don't worry, I'll numb you first, not just pull out a needle and thread." Jessi laughed a little with you, some of the tension leaving her face. "I'll be right back." It took about a minute to run out and grab your medical bag. Considering that you would be stitching up hockey players on a pretty regular basis, you had all the necessary equipment to throw a couple on Jessi's thumb. You moved her over to the small table in the kitchen that was cleared off and cleaned her cut thoroughly before numbing the area so she wouldn't feel a thing and getting to work. "How did you cut your thumb? A finger I can see, but your thumb?" You didn't really need to know though you wanted to take her mind off of things, as she was staring at you intently along with Jamie and Jordie.
"I was washing the last few things and didn't realize I'd left a knife in the water." By the time she answered you, you had all three stitches in. "Wait, you're done already? How did you do that so fast?"
"Practice, plus I sort of need to be fast to get these two back on the ice."
"I've never had anyone stitch me that quick before," Jordie commented as you wrapped up Jessi's thumb. You chanced a look at Jamie, whose warm brown eyes were even wider than normal watching you.
"You're good to go, though you're done in the kitchen for the night. Keep that dry for forty-eight hours if possible. You'll need to keep them in for about a week to ten days. Your doctor can take them out for you if you want, or I can just pop over some night if you want."
"Could you? I mean that would be great and so much easier with getting things ready to go to Vancouver, though you have to promise to come over before that. I owe you more than just dinner tonight." It was then that you realized no one else had shown up yet and you were beginning to wonder if Jamie had forced these two to invite you over for other reasons.
"You don't owe me anything," you commented cleaning up the table and putting things back in your med bag. "Though I feel like I must have got the time wrong. Was I early?"
"No, not at all. I wanted you to come early," Jessi answered. "I was hoping we could get to know each other better, though I didn't think that we would bond over you stitching me up." You both chuckled at that. "I'm definitely glad you were here though."
"Well, since I'm here, put me to work. What else needs to be done before people get here?" Jessi sent Jordie and Jamie out to man the grill, as you finished helping her get all the side dishes ready. Almost everything was ready, there were just a few last-minute things that you were able to do for her. The two of you developed a fast friendship and you were somewhat disappointed that she would be leaving in a few short weeks, though she assured you most of the girls on the team were sweethearts and that you'd probably get along with them. She was in the middle of telling you about Tyler's latest girlfriend when the two walked in, followed by another blonde who you didn't know.
"You can start the party now that I'm here," Tyler stated as he entered the house. This first impression of him told you he was going to be a handful if he ever got an injury. "Hello, gorgeous," he said kissing Jessi on the cheek as he came in. "And you must be the beautiful new doctor I heard a thing or two about." Tyler made his way over to you, kissing your cheek just as he did Jessi's. The boy was obviously a notorious flirt.
"Well, I hope it was all good."
"If it wasn't, I'll throw hands with whoever said anything bad. Well, make that a hand and some fingers since you already had to use your skills on me." Jessi told Tyler, and it was then that you noticed she'd not greeted either Tyler's girlfriend or the woman that came with them.
"Already putting the good doctor to work?"
"Yes, I cut my thumb," you stood there awkwardly awaiting an introduction to either of the women while Tyler and Jessi continued their conversation. "But (Y/N) here stitched me up in seconds literally. You guys are lucky to have her."
"Ah, good with your hands I see," Tyler said with a wink towards you, and you knew your first assessment of him was correct; he was a flirt. "And you make house calls it seems."
"Not to your place," Jamie's booming voice came from the doorway, making you jump a little.
"You're no fun Chubbs," Tyler pouted, while a serious looked crossed Jamie's face. You'd seen it numerous times when he was younger. It was a warning, that someone, this time Tyler, had pushed the issue too far and if it continued, he'd end up paying for it. Part of you wondered if he still had that death glare on the ice.
You were saved from it going any further when the doorbell rang and more people arrived. It ended up being the last five people for the dinner party, Alexander Radulov, Ben Bishop and his wife Andrea, and Jason Dickinson and his girlfriend Alandra. Jessi introduced you to all of them, yet still overlooked Tyler's girlfriend and friend. If she hadn't mentioned before he arrived that it was his girlfriend coming; you would've thought she was just the flavor of the week.
All the guys, and the two nameless women, headed out to the patio, while you, Jessi, Andrea, and Alandra stayed inside. You waited what you thought was an appropriate time, before saying anything. "So, I have to ask…um Tyler's girlfriend and the other one…was there a reason you didn't introduce us?"
"I don't like her," Jessi stated so matter of factly, that your jaw almost dropped. "Her name is Sara and she's only dating Tyler because she after his money." You thought she was done but she kept going. "And if she has her way, her friend will get her hooks into Jamie." You turned to look outside, where you found the other blonde watching Jamie flip steaks on the grill. She was definitely trying to flirt with him, it was obvious even from your view in the kitchen. Your gaze was so locked in on the two that it startled you when Jessi said, "Her name is Caitlyn." The name seemed to fit her. You knew nothing about her, yet you found yourself disliking her just for her name alone. Well, that and how she just nonchalantly stroked Jamie's bicep just now. "And I think it's time we see how those steaks are coming."
Jessi grabbed your hand and led you outside, along with Andrea and Alandra. "Hey babe, we're almost ready here," Jordie told you all. "How about you guys?"
"Just need to fix a few things on the table and we'll be good. I'll be right back." She ran inside, leaving you to seethe over the blonde Caitlyn flirting with Jamie. You closed your eyes blinking hard. Why did you care if she had her sights set on him? It would serve him right to get a taste of his own medicine, wouldn't it? You inhaled deeply. You weren't that person anymore, there was no reason to get back at Jamie Benn. You'd done that in high school, or at least your sixteen-year-old summation of getting back at him had, and look what it got you. Nothing, that's what. While you'd never fully trust Jamie again, you didn't wish him ill will; you were past that.
"You should really go save him, you know?" Andrea Bishop whispered softly to you, and you quirked your brow at her. "Jess told us you grew up with Jordie and Jamie. She'll probably back off if you go talk to him instead of us."
"Oh, I don't know."
"I'm sure he'll be extremely grateful." Did it matter if he was? Of course, you wanted your relationship, or at least your working relationship, to be amicable but did it need to be anything more? Helping him didn't mean that it had to be, the rational side of you reasoned. You nodded to Andrea, then headed over to Jamie.
"I hope you remember how I like mine done." Oh lord, you didn't mean it to come out like that. It seemed too intimate. Jamie, eyes sought yours as soon as the words left your mouth. "The steaks…I meant the steaks."
His eyes softened and his lips quirked up into that smile. The one that always seemed to melt your heart. "Medium well." He was right, of course. "I haven't forgotten anything that you like." The innuendo hung in the air, which seemed to suddenly grow thick, making it hard to breathe.
"So, like I was saying…" Caitlyn started, but Jamie simply turned towards you and gave you his full attention.
"How's Justin been? I haven't caught up with him in a couple years."
"He's good, married now."
"Jamie, did you know…" Caitlyn tried yet again.
"I heard that he did, to Alyssa Barnhart right? How's she for a sister-in-law?" Alyssa had honestly been a pain in your ass during high school. When you were promoted to captain of the cheerleading squad instead of her she'd made it her mission to make your world a living nightmare.
"She's grown up a lot, thank god. If she was still the same girl she was from high school, I think I would have to disown Justin."
Caitlyn totally abandoned Jamie, after making another attempt at stealing his attention and him blatantly ignoring her. Jamie leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Thank you, I thought I was going to have to light myself on fire to get her away from me." His warm breath tickled your ear and sent goose pimples rising on your flesh.
"Please don't do that. I've already had to use my suture skills tonight. I do not need to be treating third-degree burns for anything." You both laughed at the comment and fell into an easy conversation as he finished grilling, which didn't take him more than five minutes. But it was five minutes that you truly enjoyed in his company, and that was the most disturbing part.
At dinner, you found yourself seated beside him thanks to some suspicious place cards making their way onto the table. Alandra was on your other side, so you were able to get to know her much better. Both she and Andrea went out of their way to make you feel like part of the group and it seemed as though the three of you were going to be great friends, with Jessi bonding you all together.
By the time dessert was served, you found yourself smiling and laughing with Jamie more than you could've ever imagined. "I'm told that this is the best cake in Canada." Jessi declared as Jordie brought in the confection that you made. "I'm dying to taste it. Thank you (Y/N) for bringing this."
You blushed at her praise, for you didn't feel that it was that special of cake to warrant such praise. "It's honestly the best cake I've ever had," Jamie said, and you saw Caitlyn whisper something to Sara and you knew it had to be some devious remark. She was acting like a teenager, but then maybe she still was. You had no idea what her age was.
Jessi went to cut the cake, while Sara stood up from the table at the same time. "Here let me help you," Sara offered, then tipped her wine glass purposely. It was headed straight for the cake, but Jamie quickly scooped it up before the glass could fall, though the wine did go everywhere on the table. You quickly grabbed your napkin before it could spill on Jamie's lap, the action putting your hand right in front of his crotch. Your fingers were a hair's breadth away from touching him and you felt heat infuse your cheeks. Get it together, you told yourself. You're a doctor. It's not like you haven't seen or touched a man's penis before. You tried to regain your composure, then finished wiping up the mess.
"That was close," Jordie called out, and you weren't sure if he was referring to Jamie saving the cake or you almost touching his brother's cock.
"Maybe I should just cut that in the kitchen," Jessi said taking the cake from Jamie and moving to the island.
"I'll help you," you announced, following her so that you could get a little breathing room from Jamie. You could hear the conversation pick back up in the dining room, as you went to help your new friend.
"I loathe that girl," Jessi muttered the moment the two of you were alone.
"Which one?"
"Both," you both burst into a fit of giggles. "If Tyler wasn't like a brother to Jordie and Jamie, there would be no way either girl would be in my house right now." You understood her plight as you'd felt that way when Justin had announced he was dating Alyssa. Thankfully, she'd at least grown-up, whereas these two had a lot more of that left to do. "You know she dumped that glass on purpose because Jamie's paying attention to you and not her friend."
"I'm pretty sure they planned it together."
"True." You sliced another piece of cake as Jessi held out a plate for you to put it on. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What happened between you and Jamie?" It was the last question you expected and something must have shown on your face to say so. "I only ask because you two seem perfect together." You'd thought that too once, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"It's complicated," you finally told her.
"Hmm, Jamie said the same thing when I asked him before you came tonight." You cut into the cake with a little more force than necessary. It was sort of symbolic for Jamie had pretty much sliced through your heart all those years ago, though time had seemed to mend some of it; there were still some residual scarring left. "I get it," Jessi said. "But people change (Y/N). They make mistakes and they learn from them. They become better people. I know it's not something you want to hear, but I think Jamie learned a lot from whatever happened. Maybe it's time to bury the past and make a fresh start." She picked up a couple pieces of cake then started to head back to the dining room. "Just food for thought." It was more than just food for thought. It was a seven-course meal and you weren't sure you were even hungry. As if to prove you wrong, your stomach growled then.
#Ruined the series#jamie benn#jamie benn imagine#jamie benn imagines#jamie benn fanfic#Dallas stars imagine#dallas stars imagines#dallas stars fanfic#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#hockey fanfic
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Long Roman/Gerri bargaining read ahead!
My latest delusional Roman/Gerri rant until the episode I think!
There’s a way in which these two's romantic/pseudo sexual relationship is embedded in their business relationship.
Foreplay for them is fully locking eyes and imperceptible head nods to make a deal with Sandi and stewy, giving promotions during shareholder meetings, granting presidential phone calls, sending one to management training, going to bat for the other in death cruises…
But business by its nature is cut throat, cold and calculated, it’s not meant to be sexy foreplay that protects each other’s feelings (which of course is the thing that Roman is craving; something that reconciles business and love), so sooner or later something’s got to give.
The line that we’ll explore Gerri’s "personal ambition" is revealing imo and consistent with her behaviour this season.
- Roman has truly gone to bat for her during the show trial and suggested alternatives such as Franck, Tom, Greg AND shiv.
- He then suggests she takes over as CEO
- Finally he goes to her to find out if he should betray her (!!!) and obviously then doesn’t
Whereas Gerri has
- Taken the CEO job without a moment’s hesitation
- Threatened Roman to stay on her side
- Kind of threw him under the bus during negotiations with Sandi and stewy
- Dated someone with the explicit purpose of back channelling DOJ
The only times she was shown NOT to act in her best interest/shown human emotion was
- Photographing her promotion announcement to send to her daughters
- Telling Roman to bank the photo (would’ve been better for her to let Roman and Kendall burn each other wouldn’t it?)
- Given him more power/diluting her potency after the shareholder meeting
So I think this is where we’re headed. Roman does something that threatens her job, probably because of his recklessness, and she realises that the only time she hasn’t acted in her own best interest and let her feelings (whatever they are btw, these won’t be defined as the writers are forever playing on that ambiguity simply because it’s such a hard thing for Gerri to accept) dictate her business behaviour, this is what happens (whereas when she dates Laurie and acts the way she always has, she finds out the company is off the hook btw; it’s beneficial to her thereby reinforcing her tendency to continue acting like this).
In the end, I think Roman would only betray Gerri for Logan, and Gerri would betray/dump Roman because it doesn’t benefit her own personal position. You don’t get to such high levels as a woman in this world without knowing how to fend off the kind of attention which is potentially dangerous for your progression. And ultimately, their positions in the company/family are vastly different; Roman CAN act recklessly because he’ll always bounce back and in fact he’s pushed to act recklessly because what he wants more than anything is Logan’s respect. Gerri wants the top job and power and she is obviously way more dispensable than Roman is; so I think the end for them right now if she survives the 2 episodes in her position (which I think she will, re-Logan protecting her) is her saying something along the lines of “I can’t afford whatever this is between us, if it’s going to cost me so dearly”.
It’s also a great setup for S4 that still protects their connection. What does the relationship look like between two people who in their own bizarre ways want each other but cannot get out of their own way and are doomed to always feel that way until either Gerri stops wanting power or Logan disappears maybe...
Yikes
#bargaining#crazyromangerries#succession hbo#hbo succession#gerri kellman#gerri x roman#roman x gerri#succession spoiler#roman roy#sucker for pain
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All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 9
Chapters: 9/19
Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist
Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.
Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.
He happens to love them back.
Find it on Ao3
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]
On a Tuesday in the middle of November, not long after Gerry's 28th birthday, the three of them eat dinner at Gerry's flat, as they often do these days. Jon cooks for them and after, Martin and Gerry wash the dishes and debate the book they both just finished reading.
Jon has been twitchy all evening, so they leave him to read his own book in peace.
He wanders in at one point, leaning against the counter. "Gerry, do you know what day it is?"
Gerry looks over at him in such a way as to indicate that he really doesn't.
"Our six-month anniversary?" He tries.
"No," Martin pipes up, "That's not for weeks yet."
Jon and Gerry both look at him askance. "What? Your boyfriend starts dating another man, you remember the date. I can't believe you two don't know." Martin says as if that about covers it.
"Nevermind that." Jon snaps, and even with his previous moodiness, the others are taken aback at his blunt words and even harsher tone.
"Something wrong, Jon?" Gerry asks quietly, leaning against the opposite counter to Jon and crossing his arms. His tone suggests what he actually wanted to say was 'Do we have a problem here, bitch?' but he manages to reign the actual words in.
"I want to know why you left without saying goodbye." Jon's words are filled with a multitude of frustrations, none of which are actually conveyed in his limited words.
"Yesterday?" Gerry asks, incredulous. "You were asleep!"
"No! Not yesterday." Jon snaps back. "When we were younger. It's been ten years today since you disappeared off the face of the planet."
"Oh," Gerry responds quietly, his defensive posture dropping. He leans his hands back on the table behind him, bringing his shoulders up around his ears. It’s a rare display of confident, edgy Gerry trying to shrink himself.
"I thought we were, you know. Together. Then one day you were just gone! As if you had never existed. Your mother wouldn't tell me anything at all, just sat there smirking at me, said that you were gone and she didn't know when you were coming back, or if you were ever coming back. Which you never did, actually." Jon has been pacing, his voice rising with each new word until the final words are shouted accusatorily into the space between them.
Gerry knew Jon had wanted to talk about this since the day he walked in the library and back into his life. He had waited, been patient, and Gerry had put it off in the hopes that he would never have to choke the words out. Now, that patience was obviously over, and he knew he owed Jon this explanation.
"We were together Jon. I loved you."
"So why? What did I do so wrong, that I got to wake up one day and find you gone ?" Jon's voice has become desperate, and they can all hear the tears that he is trying to hold back.
"Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. We weren't perfect, but we were always so good together. I... I had to get out of there. And I couldn't leave any clues behind, so I couldn't tell you anything, because it wouldn't have been safe for either of us." Gerry reaches towards Jon to soothe him, but he flinches away and Gerry doesn't pursue him.
"I don't understand." The tears have come, and Gerry desperately tries to hold back his own when he sees them.
Martin had up until that point been standing resolutely in the corner, trying not to interfere in their pre-Martin argument. At the advent of tears, Martin moves to stand at Jon's back, gripping his shoulder for comfort. Gerry looks bereft and Martin holds out a hand to get him to come closer as well. They huddle all together, both Jon and Gerry taking comfort in Martin's steadiness.
Gerry leans into Jon, sliding his hand around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry, love. I've never forgiven myself for just disappearing on you. I thought about you every day."
"I love you," Jon whispers as Martin rocks them both gently. "But I need to know."
"I love you too." Gerry shuts his eyes and wishes more than ever to erase his shitty legacy of pain and blood.
*
Martin drags them to bed and offers to leave them alone to their talk.
"Please stay," Gerry says, grasping his hand. "You both need to know, and I don't want to have to talk through this twice."
So they all pile into Gerry's bed together, sitting in a vague circle like teenagers at a slumber party.
As Gerry starts to talk, Martin drags him over toward him and begins braiding his dark blue hair. It's both an offer of physical comfort and affection (easily Gerry's main love language) and a simple way of letting him off the hook for eye contact.
With Jon staring at him quite intently, Martin doesn't think he needs any further pressure.
"Jon, you-" He starts and then halts abruptly. Jon reaches over and grasps his hand, attempting to further ground him. "You remember my mother. I know you saw how, how just off she was. Manipulative and controlling. By turns demanding and completely uninterested in me. One day I would be free to run wild for weeks at a time, the next she would have a meltdown if I wasn't exactly where she wanted me, every second of the day and night." Gerry blows a breath out, shuddering at the memory of a particularly bad incident with a vase that had left him needing several stitches over his left eye.
"Well, she wasn't always like that. I remember her being a pretty good mom when I was young, if distant. She was always far more interested in being a wife than a mother, and she loved the way my father adored her.
“When I was 7, my father was blinded in an accident at work. I remember the day the phone call came. She spoke very calmly to the hospital, before hanging up the phone and shattering every picture frame in the house." Martin is finished with Gerry's hair and simply leans into him, offering silent comfort. "He coped okay with his new disability actually, and I liked helping him learn the world again with no sight. My mother never recovered from her initial breakdown though. She was angry and petulant that she needed to help and support him for the first time in their entire relationship and became more and more unhinged over the course of a year.
"One day I came home from school to find a puddle of blood soaked into the floor of the living room. She said there had been an accident and my father wasn't coming back. She hit me for the first time when I cried. She told me that I was a man now, and tears were for useless girls and disgusting… Well, you get the picture."
Gerry pauses and glances between them. A few tears have started to run down his face, but he doesn't seem to even notice them.
"We moved a few days later, and that was all I ever knew about my father's death until I was eighteen, almost ten years later. I'll spare you the horrid details, but as I'm sure you've already guessed, she murdered him. She explained very, very graphically what she had done with the body, and that she would never be caught, no one would ever think to blame her, even if anyone could ever prove that he was dead at all."
The words hang heavy in the air between the three of them. Gerry feels the comfort of their touches, but can hardly stand the affection anymore. He gets up off the bed and goes to look out the bedroom window, arms crossed and posture hard.
"Then she looked me right in the eye. And she told me that was exactly what would happen to Jon if she ever caught me with him again."
Dead, cold silence fills the room.
Gerry turns back around to find them both watching him. "So, I packed whatever I could fit into my duffle bag, and I got the hell out of dodge. I ran. I ran because I couldn't close my eyes at night with seeing your face white and cold and covered in blood and," he breaks off and takes a shuddering breath, covering his eyes and sinking to his knees. "And I couldn't stand that she would hurt you because of me. That all your light and potential would be ripped away from you in blood and pain and nothing I felt for you could make even the risk of that worthwhile."
He lifts his head to look up at them, where they’ve moved to the side of the bed towards him. “And do you want to know what the worst part is, actually? I can’t get over the idea that even though I haven’t seen Mary Keay in 10 years, the ghost of her demons lives inside of me. That I'm really just… Her. That one day my mind will snap and I'll be a danger to you both and I'll be the one hurting you, just like she hurt him. And then I'll just be the same monster who has always haunted my dreams."
Martin and Jon exchange a heavy look. They can scarcely believe that Gerry had endured so much and yet is still… Gerry. Happy, flirtatious, loving Gerry. Gerry, who fills their lives with colour and spontaneity, always showing up when they least expected him, pushing himself into their gravity and asking for space in their lives.
Despite the rather violent nature of Gerry's confession, it doesn't change anything for either of them. Things are not yet settled between them, but they curl around Gerry on the floor and they cry together over shattered innocence and sacrificed futures, and Jon promises himself that he will never let Mary Keay come between him and Gerry ever again.
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The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 117 - Testament
But Tim isn’t going to sit home and wait, and Elias seems pretty insistent I go along. Part of me thinks it’s just so he can see if whatever this “preparation” he’s been trying to do on me works. - Jon
I guess, yeah, that's part of it and the other part is that he wants to make absolutely sure Jon gets touched by as many powers as he possibly can and sending him right into the lion's den is a good way of doing that, I suppose.
I don’t quite get those two. I suppose what they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… it’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone.
Ouch. That is a painful realisation right there! (The usual disclaimer of "I'm obviously not talking about the scale of cosmic horror here because duh or for that matter even the scale of massive trauma" but I actually think that realisation is on some level relatable because of the realisation I had multiple times in my life of "I don't really know what a close bond feels like because I've never actually been anywhere close to the best friend of the people I've considered my best friends." Fortunately my luck has shifted somewhat in the "close emotional bonds" department, or at least I hope I'm not kidding myself about that, but the realisation that some people have these fire-forged, ride-or-die relationships and you're just kinda doing your own thing, dipping a finger shallowly into human connection every once in a while and then watching it flow away, is a bit of a twinge.)
And… aside from some, uh, uh, office gossip which I, I’m not sure is necessary or, uh, conducive to a workplace that… hey, it, it, it’s natural it’s, it’s normal.
I love how Jon just goes from deep emotional turmoil to being a bit upset that people are gossipping about whatever may be going on in his love life. Talk about emotional roller coasters!
Oh, yeah, I found something on the other body the circus stole, this “George Icarus.” (...) Jurgen Leitner. I just can’t be rid of him.
Ah, okay, this is where we learn who George Icarus was. Also, the pseudonym is very fitting, I mean, Leitner did, in fact, fly too close to the goddamn sun and subsequently crash and burn when he decided to create a library of fear books, didn't he?
He always said, if you don’t like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight and you change it. Whining doesn’t help. I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial. - Basira
This is definitely something I've experienced myself but it's also definitely something I've seen in some people who like to go on like Basira's dad about stiff-upper-lip-don't-whine-adapt-and-overcome to other people and shame others for expressing their emotional pain. When the cracks finally do start showing up (usually under the influence of alcohol), it's not so much a crack as a full-on explosion.
But at least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her.
It's tragic but also on some level a little bit heartwarming that Basira never actually stops doing things relative to Daisy, even when it takes everything out of her, even when Daisy starts destroying herself.
Still stuck, still miserable, still angry. New traumas, but they hurt just like the old ones. Elias thinks he’s got this ingenious way to hurt people, but it’s just the same old and a creepy new package. Arsehole. God, I just want to rip his – When did I start to lose the parts of me that weren’t just anger? - Melanie
I always have a soft spot for the angry ones, the ones who have to forcibly stop themselves from punching people in the teeth, who have to put every last shred of willpower into keeping a lid on the boiling, hissing, steaming pot that is their inner life. The ones whose willpower sometimes fails them and then they do end up hurting people or themselves because of their anger. And not to go all REPRESENTATION here, but I'm actually glad to see that in TMA that character archetype is basically all women, because the people exploding in violent anger or having to try so fucking hard to keep it in and occasionally failing are usually guys.
They did manifest, but they weren’t what I thought they’d be. They were fused, somehow, all mixed together, a huge angry mass of dead flesh and guns.
I'm kind of glad this isn't a fully-fledged statement because I feel like that sentence, that image, is really all I need and anything further would actually weaken rather than strengthen the horror.
Good luck, Jon. I do hope you win. But I also hope it hurts.
Damn, this episode is so good at summarising characters in a line or two, isn't it?
I, I’m scared, I guess. – no, wait. No, no, I mean, ah, I don’t want that to be my last message, the thing that defines me. “Martin Blackwood, he was always scared, then he died. The end.” I don’t want that. - Martin
I'm a very anxious person and this is INSANELY relatable, this fear that all that's going to be left of you is the things you didn't do because you were terrified. ... Martin, stop making me tear up by being too damn relatable!
I need them to be safe, I need him to be okay.
Aw, Martin!
I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like my plan’s not dangerous, but it’s, it’s mine. This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good leaving my own little web.
a) This thought process makes perfect sense. Sometimes you just need to express your goddamn agency, even if it's dangerous and even if it's bound to hurt and b) I know the podcast immediately lampshades the "web" thing, but WEB!MARTIN THOUGH! I MEAN! THINK ABOUT IT! That would've been such an amazing plot point and they had it all set up. I mean, he's got a lot of good Lonely-related shit going on later, too, but ... why not both? I do enjoy it when the powers squabble over a character!
I used to blame my brother for going off his own and poking around where he wasn’t wanted. I used to blame myself for not helping him. But now… now it doesn’t matter. I’ve read through enough of these things to know that this doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it! - Tim
I think Tim's view of this is actually very close to the way that TMA handles this. The Entities don't eat you because you deserve it. They just happen to happen to someone. And that makes the horror work so much better than if that wasn't the case. (It also feels closer to how LIFE actually works a lot of the time.) So I find it somewhat odd to see when people do read desert into it, I feel like that weakens the storytelling.
Honestly, I hope that Jon learned something from her because, because I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it… well, he’d better have the guts to do it.
Well. Fuck!
Gerard’s page… Gerry. I-I know there’s more he could tell me – he he, wouldn’t of, of course, I, I know that but he, he… he would still be there, th-that, that knowledge, i-it would, it would still exist…(...) …y-you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in … Just rest. - Jon
Damn, seeing Jon struggle against the instinct to keep knowledge available to himself, seeing how much it literally hurts him and seeing him WIN is sure something. Also ... "Rest in ... just rest." ... make me cry, why don't you?
My impression of this episode
This is not so much horror as it is concentrated emotion and I adore it. I nearly teared up a few times on my relisten (I think I wasn't in quite the right headspace during my first time). The gut punch quotes come thick in this one. This may actually be my favourite plot development episode (as opposed to favourite statements that don't relate directly to the overall plot). The writing is just. so. good.
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ouch oof i am sad
remember the scene that @pitviperofdoom was talking about in this post? well this was something she mentioned in the discord server and because i am always a sucker for a good angst, i wrote an entire Thing for it. content warnings under the cut
basically: assistant archivist au where gerry did die. mentions of past character death
Jon’s quiet as Julia explains how to pull Gerard Keay from the page. This is not unusual in and of itself. Jon is not the type of person to fill spaces with endless chatter, or to make small talk for the sake of it. Martin and Jon’s friendship has been characterized by long, comfortable silences and the conversation they make between each one.
This is different, though. Martin can’t tell if it’s because of his connection with the Beholding that he knows, or if he’s just gotten better at reading Jon, but this is - wrong. The last conversation that they had, if you could call it a conversation at all, was Jon quietly asking if they could stop by Pittsburgh to visit the hospital where Gerard Keay died. Since then, he’s been mostly lost in thought.
Martin knows that Jon and Gerard worked together with Gertrude. He’s inferred that they were friends, because Martin has learned to read the quiet grief that crosses Jon’s face whenever Gerard is mentioned. Now he’s wondering if they were closer than he realized.
He doesn’t dare ask though, not in front of Julia. And he’s not even sure that Jon would tell him if he did ask. So he sets aside his worry, turns to the Hunter, and says, “Thank you, Julia.”
Her smile is full of teeth. “Give the door a knock when you’re done.”
Martin watches her go, unwilling to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. When the door finally clicks shut, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief and looks down to find Jon holding the book in his hands, staring at it, perfectly still.
“...Jon?”
Jon jumps and looks up, his lips pressed into a thin, bitten line, his eyes slightly wild.
Martin knows how to handle Jon when he’s scared, when he’s cruel. He knows how to handle Jon when he’s simmering with anger, when he’s exhausted and frayed about the edges. This is completely new, and he shifts at the unwelcome, familiar feeling of uncertainty. “Do you...want me to do it?”
Jon immediately shakes his head, so quick it looks painful. “No. No, I should…” he takes a deep breath, scrubs his hand through his hair. He takes a few quick steps forward, then turns around, the book pressed to his stomach. “I’ll do it.”
Martin opens his mouth to question the wisdom of that idea, but then Jon is flipping open the book to the last page. He clears his throat once, twice, and then, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide.”
Jon’s voice breaks on the last word, and he stops.
“...Jon?”
Martin watches the gentle bob of Jon’s throat as he swallows. Then he shakes his head and says in a voice much stronger and clearer than before, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide. He tried to refuse their drugs…”
He continues talking, his voice rising and falling with every word, like he’s reading just another statement. He slows as he reaches the last few sentences.
“...And his only thought was to cry out for the one he loved. He could feel small, familiar hands gripping his, the soft rise and fall of a voice, hushed like a prayer. The name fell from his lips, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not he had been heard. He hoped that he had been heard. And so Gerard Keay ended.”
Gerard Keay stands in the center of the room. He’s wearing all black, which Martin had expected. Black trench coat, black trousers, black boots, eyes made sharp with makeup. He looks like he just raided the shelves of a Hot Topic, only he makes it work.
Gerard’s gaze flickers from Martin to Jon, and for a moment there is no recognition, no comprehension. He opens his mouth - and then he stills, his eyebrows coming together in vague confusion. His jaw slackens, and his eyes widen, and his expression is cracked open like an egg, revealing the vulnerable yolk beneath.
Jon makes a sound. Martin could not characterize that sound even if he wanted to. It sounds like - like all of Jon’s insides have been scooped out of him, like he’s surrounded by air but he can’t get a breath, like - grief. It sounds like pure, mortal grief.
Just like that, Martin understands.
“Jon,” Gerard Keay says.
And then Jon bursts into tears.
“Gerry,” Jon gasps, but when he reaches out his hand goes right through Gerry’s sleeve. “Gerry, I - “
“Jon,” Gerry steps in close, his hands framing Jon’s face, staring at him the way a drowning man stares at a life raft.
“I’m sorry,” Jon manages. “Gerry I’m so - I promise, I didn’t know, I - “
“It’s okay,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s hair reflexively, but freezes when his fingertips disappear into Jon’s forehead. His expression crumples. “It’s fine, I know. I know. Jon, Jon - ”
And then they’re both crying, tears dripping down. Jon’s face is buried in his hands, and he’s weeping, keening, and Gerry keeps reaching for him, but there’s no way to connect, no way to touch. There’s no relief. It’s just shared grief, endless and pervasive and shattering.
Martin turns away and frantically scrubs his hands across his face. Oh, God. He feels so guilty, but he doesn’t want to be here right now. There is a Shakespearean tragedy playing out before his eyes, the kind that’s brimming with heartache and things left unsaid, and he is powerless against it.
Finally, mercifully, the sound of crying dies away into exhausted silence, except for thick, heavy breathing. Martin keeps his back to them, wanting to give them some semblance of privacy for a conversation that they obviously need to have.
“...so where is she?”
Jon huffs out a quiet laugh, lacking humor, edged with hurt. “Dead. Shot to the chest.”
“Figures.” A meaningful pause. “So are you...”
“Oh, no. No, it’s...oh. Martin?”
Martin sniffs hard and drags his hands over his cheeks before turning around, forcing a smile on his face. Jon and Gerry are standing as close to each other as they can without touching, twin tracks of silver tears on their cheeks. “Hi, sorry. Just...wanted to give you two a bit of privacy. Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist.”
Gerry dips his chin in acknowledgement, before turning his confused gaze back to Jon. “I thought…?”
“He knows,” Jon says quickly. “I’m...well. It’s complicated. Gertrude hid a lot more from us than we knew.” There’s still a raw hurt in Jon’s voice when he says that, mixed with a lingering sort of nostalgia.
Gerry grimaces. “Did she know about…”
Martin doesn’t realize what he’s asking about until he gestures toward his head, a helpless, reluctant sort of gesture.
“I - maybe?” Jon shakes his head, for the first time turning out of Gerry’s orbit, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’d like to think not, but...it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone. We’ll never know.”
There is a moment of silence. Martin bites his lip, then forces himself to stop when he realizes that he’s already chewed it bloody. It’s hard to watch Jon draw back into himself, put the pain where it can only hurt himself.
“Hey,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s chin, frowns when his hand sinks into the skin. He shakes his head and walks around so he can insert himself into Jon’s field of vision. “Stop. I can feel you blaming yourself, okay? Just...stop. It’s not your fault.”
“...but I should’ve -”
“I am not letting you use this as another stick you beat yourself with,” Gerry interrupts firmly. “You read my page, didn’t you? I didn’t die alone. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but you don’t understand how much I -”
He breaks off. Jon’s breath rattles dangerously again.
“I always thought that I was going to die alone,” Gerry finishes.
There’s another moment of silence. Jon puts his head in his hands again, and Martin aches at the way Gerry’s face crumples with the desire to reach out, to comfort. They’re in the same room, but there’s a yawning, uncrossable distance between them.
Then Jon lowers his hands. There’s a spark in his eyes that Martin recognizes: the scarce moments before an inferno, before manic determination sets Jon’s whole being ablaze. “Gerry, I’m getting you out of here. I can - you and me, we can figure it out. We can -”
“No.”
Jon pauses. The spark jolts, catches on the cool wave of his confusion. “...what?”
“I’m dead, Jon,” Gerry reaches out for Jon again, then stops. Lets his arm fall to his side, clenches his fists. “I can’t live like this.”
Breathless hurt snatches across Jon’s face. “No, Gerry. I can’t - not when I’ve just found you, I -”
“It hurts, Jon,” Gerry interrupts, and he does not seem like the type to beg, but his voice dips at the end with a desperate plea. “It...it hurts, all the time, and...I just want to rest. Please, just let me rest.”
Jon swallows once. Twice, and his face crumples with sympathy, with empathy, with that awful exhaustion that they’ve all been wearing since what feels like forever. After a moment, he nods.
Gerry lets out a low, quiet sigh of relief, tension draining from his broad shoulders. He smiles faintly, ghosting his knuckles against Jon’s cheek. Jon leans into the touch even though he must not be able to feel it, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth drawn.
“I wish you were here,” Jon whispers.
“Yeah,” Gerry steps back, hiding his expression behind his long curtain of black hair. “Me too.”
There’s a moment of silence. A rearranging of expressions, a folding of hurt and pain back where it can no longer be seen. Jon is once again himself, his expression distant, and Gerry is wry and so very, very dead.
Gerry turns to Martin and smiles. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, Martin.”
Martin swallows, trying to unearth his voice. “Yeah. Me too.”
Then Gerry turns back to Jon. “You know what to do.”
Jon nods again, sharp and short. “I...I dismiss you.”
Gerry closes his eyes, and the whole room sighs as he dissipates into nothing.
Jon stands alone in the middle of the room, spine so straight there may as well be an iron rod put up the back of it. Martin doesn’t even know what the hell he is supposed to say. There is nothing he can do to make this better. How the hell is he supposed to make this better?
The moment passes. Jon’s shoulders slump, and when he turns back to Martin, his eyes are empty.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says monotonously.
Martin cannot do this. Martin cannot just stand there while Jon apologizes and looks at him like that, and -
“Don’t apologize,” he steps forward. “Can I hug you? Please?”
Jon thinks about that for a moment. When he eventually nods, Martin crosses the short distance between them and folds Jon into his arms, trying to ease the sharpness of the pain he surely must be feeling. He can’t make it better, but he can make sure that Jon knows that he isn’t alone. He can do this.
Jon doesn’t move for a moment, his face pressed into Martin’s shoulder, his arms loose at his sides. But just when Martin is about to pull away, he slowly reaches up, curls his hands in the fabric of Martin’s shirt. Lowers his head so he is half-buried in Martin’s embrace. He was already small, but he tries to make himself smaller, like he’s trying to hide himself in the folds of Martin’s pullover.
Eventually, he lets go. Eventually he steps back, letting his bangs hide his eyes, and goes to pick up the book. Martin watches his painful, slow movements, as though he’s filled with bruises from the inside out. He’s so distracted that Jon’s voice almost makes him jump.
“You should…you should do it.”
Martin shakes himself. “Sorry?”
“Burn his page,” Jon elaborates, holding the book out to Martin.
Martin gapes at him, stunned, because - “Um. No? Jon, why -”
“I can’t be the only person who’s ever done right by him.”
Oh. Well, when he puts it like that.
Martin swallows and takes the book gingerly, like he’s holding something precious. He flips to the last page and carefully tears it out, ignoring the way Jon’s breath catches at the soft ripping sound. Then he folds the page and puts it into his pocket, trying not to let on how nervous he is about having this precious page on his person. Trying not to let on how nervous Jon’s complete and utter trust makes him.
He is painfully aware of how many times that trust has been broken.
“Are you ready?” Martin asks.
Jon finally looks away from Martin’s pocket. “Yes. Let’s go.”
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Illicio 17/?
Part 16
CW for:
-self harm
-mentions (implications) of police brutality
-whatever the hell kind of self hatred Tim has going on
"Daisy, you're dying."
"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."
"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."
"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.
Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."
XVII
"That was a nasty one," Gerry says, running a hand through his hair a couple times. An understandable reaction, given that the floorboards of the attic they were trying to bust open to reach the Corruption book ended up collapsing on him in a shower of termites.
Still, Melanie rolls her eyes, and her lips curl into a smirk as she comes to bump his arm with her shoulder. "No creepy crawlies, you're still pretty."
"Well, obviously." Gerry flips his hair back into place, and Melanie tugs on it, when a couple locks whip -on purpose, she's sure- against her face. "Whose turn is it to pick dinner?"
"You don't even need to eat!" Melanie groans, which is a pretty solid response to his question.
"It's about the bonding, firecracker." Gerry's voice is a slow, conciliatory tone carefully designed to rile her up, she knows from his teasing grin. "The human experience."
Melanie blinks. He blinks back.
"You're not hum-"
"What's that food your girlfriend loves and you hate?" He speaks over her, and she laughs. Definitely not her standard response to men interrupting her, but she'll let this one slip, she decides. "Hungarian? Yes. That's what I'm craving."
"You're an asshole, did you know that?"
They don't get Hungarian, in the end.
Instead, they stop by an ice-cream shop, which Melanie thinks is oddly fitting. It's what they got the first time they went out together; it only makes sense it's what they get on their last.
"You're quiet." Gerry sits next to her as she digs into her pint of caramel. She barely even gives him a glance, scrolling through pictures of herself and Georgie in her phone. "Are you okay?"
"I talked to Georgie," Melanie blurts out, because tact has never been her strong suit.
"...Oh." Gerry's heavy hand comes to rest at her shoulder, and Melanie reflects for a second on how casually he touches her, and how comfortable she is with it. "Uh- everything alright?"
She scoops another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. It's- as alright as it's ever going to get, she supposes. Georgie didn't like it, but she understood. She even offered to do it, but Melanie didn't want that to be something she associated with her.
Gerry's hand squeezes her shoulder, and she turns to look at him. He looks... incredibly dumb, looking at her with concern in his eyes and his mouth stained red, his cheek still stained with soot from the book they just burned.
This is- it's the face of a friend. One she made herself, all her own.
"You look like an extra in a cheap vampire movie." She smiles. It feels a bit weaker than she meant it, but... but she's maybe feeling a bit smaller than she planned. And maybe that's not a bad thing, to ask for help. To let herself be helped. "It'll be alright."
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Basira's not blind to how Hunt-like her connection to the Eye is. She doesn't like it, but it's fitting, she thinks grimly as the trail before her lights up in a warm yellow hue that reminds her of her favorite hijab, of the smell of freshly baked bread, of the soft sandy hue of Daisy's hair.
Daisy's been hiding a lot lately, but it's of no use; Basira could find her at the end of the world if needed, even without- she hesitates calling them 'powers', because that feels like giving in, like accepting this metamorphosis that has been thrust upon her without so much as a by your leave. Still, they are there and they are hers, and she can follow the trail down into the tunnels, and around a couple bends.
It leads straight into a dead end, where Daisy sits balled up against a corner, like a sickly dog that crawled down here to die. She looks... small. Emaciated even, Basira's old t-shirt hanging loosely off of shoulders that used to be tight with well-marked muscle.
Basira stiffens when the Knowledge slams into her, clenching her fists by her sides. She won't be scared, she won't give it the satisfaction.
"You're dying." The truth slips easily past her lips, and Basira hates it, hates it like the world that gave her Daisy only to tear them apart again and again.
It takes a moment, but Daisy stirs and sits up to look at her with bloodshot eyes. "I have been for a while already. It's alright."
"It's not." Basira steps forward, coming to crouch before her. "I thought signing the contract had helped?"
"It slowed it down." Daisy leans back on the wall, her head dropping against her shoulder like her neck isn't strong enough to hold it. "But it would never have stopped it, I'm- I'm not you, or Jon. Beholding was never for me."
Basira crouches before her, and her shoulders feel even thinner than they looked, when she lays her hands on them. "Then you have to hunt."
Daisy's warm brown eyes fix on her, and Basira can read her next words in the slight furrow of her brow.
"I don't want to."
"Daisy, you're dying."
"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."
"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."
"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.
Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."
"Isn't it what I deserve, though?"
"What?"
"You know," Daisy says, and Basira isn't sure whether or not she means it as Capital 'K' know, but she knows perfectly well what she's referring to.
"That wasn't yo-"
"Don't say that. Don't- don't try to make me a victim, Basira I- I hurt people. I wanted to. The Hunt only gave me the tools, but-"
"Well, I knew." Basira snaps. "I knew all that time, and I didn't do anything. Doesn't that mean I'm just as bad?!"
Daisy's warm, brown eyes pin her in place, full of love and resignation in equal measure. "Well... yes."
And maybe she's right, Basira thinks. Maybe this is penance, for all the bad they've done. Maybe they're just lucky it took so long to catch up to them.
"I'm- no. Fuck that." She grits her teeth. "You- you can spend the rest of your life paying for it, but you can't die. How is this justice? How-"
"It's not meant to be fair, I think." Daisy grunts a little as she sits up straighter. "But I get to die as myself. Not- not the thing I chose to be, the thing I let hurt so many people. I get to die choosing not to hurt anyon-"
"Well- hunt monsters then! Pay it back stopping them, don't-" Basira stops abruptly, when she feels her throat tighten. If she keeps talking, her voice will break, and she doesn't want-
She'd been so angry at Jon for feeding, but here she is begging Daisy to do the same like a hypocrite. Isn't that what has always boiled down to? Her morals unshakeable, until they come to this woman?
"Basira." Daisy pulls her down delicately, and Basira comes. "I want it this way."
"Don't hide from me," Basira whispers into her hair, holding her close to her chest.
"I didn't want you to see me like this."
"I will find you. Always."
"I know." Daisy chuckles. Basira is aware this is the slightest bit selfish. Daisy won't die in her arms, so maybe as long as she never lets go... "I'm sorry."
"Don't." Basira squeezes her harder. "I'm- I get it. But I don't have to like it."
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"Are you sure you want this?" Gerry asks for what feels like the umpteenth time, and he's more than aware that he's doing it only to buy himself more time.
The entire scene is almost too relaxed; the two of them sitting on the floor next to Melanie's cot -a monstrosity of pillows and quilt that Gerry's willing to bet hosts at least one or two knives-, a tub of half-demolished caramel ice cream between them. Just two friends having a chat.
Gerry's life has never been that simple, sadly. The awl sits deceptively light on his hand, belying the weight of the request.
"I do. It's- I want out. Of the Institute, at least." Melanie's knuckles whiten as her fists clench over the dark fabric of her jeans. "If I'm going to keep helping, then I want it to be my choice."
"If you do this, I'd much rather you stay out of this for good." Gerry's voice is dry, because if he lets any emotion in it, it will probably be despair.
"That's nice, but you don't tell me what to do." Melanie shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, you're going to need someone who's free of all this, if the Eye won't let us look into your boyfriend's marks."
"Melanie-"
Her grim smile is determined, and Gerry feels a fierce rush of protectiveness burn in his chest. For a moment he misses the dull pain of his existence in the skin book, because at least back then that was all he could feel.
It was a stupid oversight on his part, to think he would ever get to have something normal. Something for him, untainted by the world he was born in.
"Well... alright, then."
There's disbelief and gratefulness in Melanie's eyes, like she recognizes the hesitation was for himself, and not a way to try and change her mind.
"You'll do it?"
"What are friends for?" Gerry's smile feels stiff and foreign in his face. "Gouge your eyes out, call you an ambulance right after."
"Your typical sleepover." The edges of Melanie's grin are strained. For the briefest of moments, he thinks she might hug him. She doesn't, and he's both relieved and disappointed. Is their friendship even theirs, if it was born out of hatred for these things that took their will away? "Should I lay down?"
"...I guess so, yes." He sighs. "Don't you want to finish the ice cream?"
"Not really." Determination or not, Melanie's starting to look a bit green. "I'm... okay, let's do it."
She turns around so her back is facing him, before laying down so her head rests on his crossed calves. It's... Gerry had never considered her eyes, but now it's all he can pay attention to. Almond-shaped and perfectly contoured with eyeliner, her irises a darker brown than Jon's, so deep it's almost black.
They're good eyes; they've kept watch for him during their hunts, caught sight of monsters just on the nick of time. They watched over him while Jon was in the Buried. The eyes of a friend.
She deserves this, the choice, the freedom; he won't keep them from her, not even for his own peace of mind.
How does one go about destroying someone's eyes permanently? Just jam it in and swirl it around, try to cause as much damage as possible? The Beholding is of course not volunteering any tips; instead showing him in excruciating clarity the agony it will provoke.
He sees it like a movie, like a nightmare; Melanie screaming, her blood dripping down his hands. Is this how his father felt, did he try to fight the Watcher with thoughts of his infant son?
'No,' the Eye whispers in his mind. 'This is what your mother saw, when your father laid to sleep for the last time. Trusting, loving. Like her.'
The awl drops from his shaky hands, missing her face by mere inches as Gerry throws himself back.
"Melanie, I can't."
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"Been a while since I've been here" Tim mumbles, giving a look around the office.
It becomes clear to Jon then that he's not the only one that's nervous, although he can't for the life of him figure out why Tim would be.
Why is he nervous, even? Does he fear Tim's barbed jabs or the dull ache of guilt? Or is it just that Tim is a loose cannon, an open flame in the Archives that- oh. Of course.
"The Eye doesn't want you here." Jon smiles tiredly as he says it, and to both his surprise and relief, Tim mirrors the gesture.
"That's just mean. It was so adamant on not letting me go before..." Tim taps his fingers in the desk, leaving little scorched marks on the wood after every touch. "Well, it's going to have to suck it up."
Jon nods. "A pity. I suppose there is a reason you're here, though."
"You know? It used to make me mad, when you did that." Tim shrugs. "Well, everything you did made me mad, but that most of all."
"The..." Jon lets the word hang in the air, arching an eyebrow.
Tim scoffs. A puff of white vapor erupts from his lips and dissipates towards the ceiling.
"The whole 'not asking questions' thing." He doesn't look at Jon as he says it, and Jon tries to focus on something that is not him, because if Tim wants to tell him this, he deserves not having it revealed beforehand. He ends up Knowing the names of every single carpenter that worked on making his desk, but at least it takes long enough for Tim to gather his thoughts. "It felt- it was a reminder of what you had become. What we were all becoming."
Jon frowns, confused. "You weren't an avatar of the Desolation back-"
"Are we sure of that? I'm- I had been- I wanted destruction since long before the Unknowing. Elias', the Archives'-" Tim's eyes meet his, and it's only then that Jon realizes how long it's been since that has happened. They're their usual dark brown, no dangerous orange glow, thankfully. Jon has- he's missed them. "Yours."
"Ah." Jon sighs. This is how it is now, isn't it? How it's always going to be.
"Yeah."
Silence falls over them again, heavy like a wet towel. Jon doesn't ask why Tim is here again; he's aware enough to recognize the diverting from before, and where it brought them.
"I'm- thank you for-" Jon starts, stops, clears his throat. "You know. Gerry. The hunters. Watching out for him when Melanie's not around."
Tim looks about as uncomfortable as Jon feels, so at least they're on equal -if uneven- footing.
"It's- Martin wanted me to." Tim crosses his arms over his chest, averting his gaze. "What- is that a thing? Those two?"
Jon sighs. "Martin is this close to becoming a Lonely avatar, Tim." Who said Tim was the only one who knew how to divert from uncomfortable lines of questioning?
Tim's face whips back to him at that, scowling fiercely. "He is, isn't he? Why is that? Why the fuck didn't you stop that when it started happening, Jon?"
"I tried my best, but I was in a comma," Jon says dryly, his words followed by a tense, thick silence.
The snort that escapes Tim's lips surprises Jon as much as it does Tim himself, apparently. "Nice to know I did fuck you up."
"For a while, yes." Jon shakes his head a little, the corner of his lips curling up in a resigned smile. "I'm- I suppose Martin hasn't told you, then."
"I suppose not," Tim repeats in an affected mockery of his voice. It's something he used to do before, Jon realizes with a start. "About what?"
And really, it feels like a pity to weigh down the first civil conversation they've had in two years by bringing it up, but it's- Tim has a right to know. He deserves it.
"About the Extinction."
"Hm. Was that meant to sound as ominous as it did?" Tim arches an eyebrow, and Jon shrugs.
"I mean, it is called the Extinction; I doubt there's any way to give that title any levity." Jon sighs. This too feels like before, and it hurts just as much as the hostility. Maybe more. "Peter Lukas believes it's a fifteenth entity in the process of forming. The fear of humanity towards eradication at our own hands, towards dying out as a species, rather than individuals. The realization that we have brought on our own demise, and it's too late to change it now."
"And is it?"
"...Excuse me?" Jon frowns.
"Well, yes. If anyone could know, wouldn't that be you?" Tim asks again.
Oh. Right, of course.
Jon sighs. "It has been brought to my attention recently that there are some things the Beholder won't tell me about."
"Like your marks?"
"I'm- how do you know about that?" Jon frowns. Just how many people know about this thing the Eye is so adamant on not letting him see?
"I asked Martin about your safeword when he asked me to stick with your boyfriend." Tim shrugs. "Then I just did a quick head count. You're just missing one, aren't you?"
"The Lonely, yes."
"How convenient isn't it? Martin's sudden promotion." Tim mutters to himself, and Jon purses his lips.
"I'm well aware it's my fault, Tim, thank you."
Tim neither confirms nor denies it. He fidgets with his hands a little, squeezing his pinky finger flat between the pointer and thumb of his free hand, then rolling it back into shape.
"So he's trying to get information?" He asks quietly after a couple minutes.
"I- at first." Jon sighs. Isn't this the truth he's been trying to ignore for the past months, even though he Knows it's irrefutable? "It has him now, though. He- he just needs to choose."
"I hope you're right."
"Hm?" Jon looks up, but Tim's still not looking at him, instead focused on the scorch marks on the desk.
"If he can choose, he will choose you." When Tim's eyes raise to him, there's the slightest spark of orange in their depths.
"I'm- Tim, I don't know if that's an option anymore." The thought has been on his mind for weeks now, since Martin turned him away.
"He always finds a way to choose you, anyways."
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"That's- that's something." Melanie exhales softly through her parted lips. They're back to leaning on her cot, and she's pressed tight to Gerry's side; not holding him by any means, but close enough that she can feel it when his breathing finally starts slowing down. "I didn't know."
It rains on her then just how painfully little she knows about him. They know each other like penitent ghosts, no past and no future, just a present, and a sum of festering wounds far too painful to look at.
Gerry's startled cackle is dry and pained, and it draws Melanie out of her contemplations. "I think that's the point."
"I-"
"I'm sorry I couldn't do it." He lets his head fall back against the cot, groaning. "I'm not being very useful lately."
It's a very stupid thought, but it does sound like something Gerry would believe of himself. Lives his entire life trying to save people from the entities, gets right back into it as soon as he's raised from the dead. Melanie sort of knew already that he measured his value on how much he could help others, but this is a very clear indicator.
Melanie sighs. "Don't. It's- I just wanted it to be you because- I trust you, I guess." She turns her head, even though Gerry's not looking at her.
"I- thank you, firecracker." It's such a dumb nickname, but it feels so different from stupid, stupid Mel. "Should- I can call Helen, if you want?"
"It's alright. I don't think she liked that I'm quitting; she seemed a bit sad when I told her. I'll- I'll do it myself." The awl feels foreign in her shaky hand, but she grips it firmly. "You should get out, probably."
He lets out a long exhale, almost sagging against her side. "I'm- I'll stay," he says in the end.
"Are you sure? I'll- you can just go outside and call the ambulance after."
"No." Gerry brings a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "No, I- I prefer to stay. In case you need help."
"Yeah, that's- I might." Melanie takes a deep, wet breath to calm her speeding heart. He doesn't respond. When she looks at him out the corner of her eye, he's staring straight ahead, his lips pressed white in a thin line and a muscle twitching at his jaw. "Thank you."
A large, warm hand comes to wrap itself around her free one, and Melanie squeezes back as hard as she can. She's as afraid of the pain as she is of the prospect of freedom, but this at least is her choice, not Elias' trickery, not something feeding on her to turn her into something else. She won't be anyone's pawn anymore.
She thinks of the Admiral's orange fur. The bright yellow of Helen's door. Gerry's stupid lovesick faces. The curve of Georgie's lips when she smiles, and the dimple on her right cheek.
Melanie strikes.
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Truth is, Tim should've left a while ago, after he got the confirmation he was looking for. That Martin isn't just another victim, that his efforts to bring him back haven't worked not because Tim himself isn't enough, but because Martin has a reason and a purpose to stay Lonely.
That said purpose isn't just the undeserving idiot before him.
It's- the familiarity's the worst part, in his opinion. Tim's stomach still burns whenever he looks at Jon and he's able to tell what he's thinking of just by the furrowing of his brow.
It reminds him of stolen glances and hugs that lingered for just a second too long. Of dragging his new boss out of the Archives for a drink, just like he dragged him out of Research every Friday. Of reluctant smiles and bitten off chuckles after Tim's jokes. Of being asked to check on a statement and knowing immediately that Jon was nervous, and that he would do whatever it took to assuage it.
"Jon?" He asks, and the way the name rolls out of his mouth leaves behind an aftertastes of bitter ashes. "Could I have found Oliver Banks?"
The green glow starts slowly, just a spark of neon in the depths of Jon's dark eyes, burning brighter and brighter until it's taken over his gaze completely.
"I- no. There- there were a lot of threads pulling you away from any real information about him." Jon sighs. He closes his eyes and rests his elbows on the desk, rubbing at his temples. "It makes sense, I suppose."
It does. Tim doesn't hold any love in his heart for the Desolation, but the fact that it has loosened the Spider's grip on him is most definitely something to be thankful for. It's ridiculous, that they live the kind of lives in which they have to be thankful for an entity at least being upfront about consuming their very being.
He... he often wonders if it might have been different, had he managed to find him. If they would've at least had a chance with some more information before everything went to shit. If maybe he's not as much to blame as-
"You aren't." Jon's voice pours over him like cold water over a fire, so abrupt that Tim flinches before looking back at him, and finding the green eyes fixed to his face with almost eerie focus.
It takes him a moment to figure out just what the hell he's walking about, and when he finally does Tim knows he should be enraged at the violation, but all he can bring himself to feel is exhaustion.
"I didn't know you could do that," he says, and every word bears the weight of the past four years.
"I'm sorry," Jon responds. Tim believes him. It doesn't matter. It hasn't mattered for a while.
The Desolation feeds on sorrow and loss as much as it does on rage, and there's plenty of both to go around in this office.
"I- Jon?" Tim frowns. Jon's warm brown skin has gone ashen, the scars in stark contrast to it. His eyes are still green and focused on something Tim can't see, and his entire frame shakes, his knuckles white around the edge of the desk. "Jon what-"
"Melanie, it's- she's-" Jon flinches and curls into himself, his face contorted into a rictus of pain that has Tim's stomach churning. "You have to go-" Jon's voice is strained now, like every word is being ripped out of him.
"Jon-" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The lights in the office are flickering and Tim feels watched by a hundred thousand eyes, here in this place that despises him for coming back after he served his purpose. Static sings in the air around them, and Tim may not have the Sight for these things, but he can recognize an avatar about to lose control. What's- what's that shit he and Daisy tell each other? What- "Jon, the- listen to the quiet, listen to-"
A lightning-sharp pain pierces into his brain-
Danny's on the armchair- no, not him- was there ever really a Danny? And if so, isn't this him? Why are you so scared, Tim? It's just your little brother, aren't you just thrilled to see him?! Look at how well his skin fits him!
Look at how wide he's smiling -don't try to count his teeth-, he's just so happy to have you back! Why didn't you go see his performance at the theater? He was so excited to introduce you to all of his new friends, to show you just how it felt when his skin burst open at the seams-
Jon's eyes are lit up like searchlights now, no pupil and no sclera, just green fire at their depths, and the depths of all the other eyes boiling open like blisters along his arms, his neck, his cheeks.
"What are you doing? Cut it out!"
Jon opens his mouth, but it's the Archivist's voice that comes out.
"Isn't she beautiful? You've thought so from the time you first laid eyes on her. Her smiling lips, her knowing eyes, her face that fits just well on her skull. Her long, long, long fingers on your scalp as you tell her of all that makes you afraid, all that makes you Tim.
You love her in any and all ways she'll let you, what does she look like? What does she sound like? It surely doesn't matter as much as the fact that she loves you back, doesn't it? She lets you stay by her side, she listens to your woes, your suspicions. You mention the circus and she nods in understanding, but in her mind she's laughing, laughing, laughing. Do you hear it? Do you feel the caress of too long fingers as you lay your head on her chest? She was thinking of taking your skin nex-"
The door flies open, and Tim throws himself over the desk to keep Jon's eyes -all of them- on him when Basira appears at the threshold.
"What the hell is going on?! I- he's in my hea-"
"Get out!" Tim shouts "Find Melanie! Make sure she's done!" Basira whips around immediately, disappearing down the corridor. "Jon, calm down!"
He orders you to look- you're so angry, you hate him with the same fierce devotion you had for him. His face is an anchor amongst the chaos around you, you recognize those eyes, that nose, those furrowed brows and that mouth twisting around a plea.
This is his fault. He brought you here, he pushed you away when you needed him, when your fear burned like a furnace in your chest and you didn't know what you were becoming. Now he's here, and he has the gall to demand even more from you. What else could he take? Is there anything left of you? The worst part, you think, is that his face is his in a way hers and Danny's weren't. This is him -you can count the teeth if you want- and you were doomed to die here surrounded in boiling wax, from the moment you first laid eyes on this calamity of a man.
"Stop it!" he screams. His whole skin hurts, every inch alight in a flare of pain As it's torn from his body, and he can't- he can't remember his name, he- what does he look like? It hurts, everything- there's fire licking at his skin -his skin is not there- and he knows that shouldn't hurt anymore but it does and he can't remember his name. "Jon, snap out of it!"
Manuela Dominguez burns, and you were the one to set her aflame. You feel her pain, you revel on it, the taste of her terror finer than a five course meal. This is what you are now. You're destruction, you're pain, you're nothing but the fear you can cause. She would be disgusted at what you have become, and Danny would too. How could you ever think you could save Martin, when all you can do is hurt? Look at yourself -whoever that is, without your skin, without your name-, what have you got to offer? What-
"Jon!" he clings tightly to the monster -the man- thrashing so wildly in his grip that they both topple to the floor. The Beholding still spears at his mind, and he doesn't- what should he do?! Will they be able to get him back, if Jon loses control?
You do not care about that. All you are is pain, all you are is hatred, all-
"Come back, you idiot!" Tim shakes him. His hands are smoking, and so is the wooden floor around them, and Jon's skin boils with eyes and blisters in equal measure. "I will burn the place down! I will kill us both again!"
He can't- he can't let him go, he- Sasha's gone, and Martin's leaving, and- Tim can't be the last one standing, he just can't.
"Don't-" Tim From Before could've reached Jon, he has no doubt. The Tim that wasn't just pain, that loved, that laughed, that wanted to comfort rather than hurt; but that Tim is gone forever, and he can't reach him. "Jon please-"
"...Tim?" The quiet voice is barely audible over the roaring of the flames, and Tim flinches back like his name had been a blow. Jon's irises are dark again, and the dozens of eyes that opened along every inch of exposed skin are slowly, reluctantly closing. "Tim, what-"
He doesn't hear much more, as he rushes out if the office and slams the door shut behind him.
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Melanie looks almost impossibly tiny as the paramedics wheel her away from Gerry and Basira, and up into the ambulance. Even from this far up, watching from the safety of his- of Peter's- of Elias' office, Martin can see two things.
The first is the carnage that's all that's left of her eyes, the blood strikingly bright where it's splashed across her face like a mask.
The second is the pained smile in her face, and Martin feels a stir of envy at his chest. She's free. There was still enough human left in her to walk away from this nightmare, from all of them.
Martin feels the Lonely before he hears the static of Peter stepping out of it. The fog curls around his ankles like a cat looking for attention, and isn't that funny, the Lonely wanting to be noticed?
It probably isn't.
"Looking a bit grim there, aren't you?" Peter asks. Martin merely inclines his head in acknowledgement, because he knows the man will only become more insistent if he doesn't answer. "Did you feel any of that?"
"Her leaving?" Martin asks
"And the Archivist losing control. He was trying to reign her back in, to heal her eyes before she could destroy them enough." Peter's gaze is heavy on his face, and he seems pleased that he can't find what he's looking for. "Your friend Timothy got quite reckless at the Archives, but in the end he managed to calm him down."
"Hm." What else is he supposed to say? Of course Tim was able to anchor Jon. They've always been close, even when they don't trust each other. Tim can pretend to despise Jon all he wants, but Martin knows him far too well. Both of them, actually. "Did you need anything?"
He feels Peter's smile more than he sees it, the man's smugness coming off of him in waves. "I was only curious as to whether or not you'd been affected, I suppose."
Martin shrugs. "I wasn't. I was recording a statement, the one with the mirror house." The tape recorder is still on his desk, the tape whirring softly inside.
"That's wonderful news, actually. It means we're ready."
He does turn to Peter at that. "Already?"
"Correct. We just need- I'm getting a map made for us right as we speak." Again, Peter's smug smile is palpable in his voice. "The tunnels are a bit of a mess, aren't they?"
"There's nothing in the tunnels. Jon searched them all." Martin arches an eyebrow, but Peter merely smiles wider.
"He didn't know much back then, did he?" He asks. "The device we need is at the center of the maze. You can't reach it unless you know where you're going."
"And you do?"
"I will. And you will too."
"...Will I be coming back?" Martin asks, almost as an afterthought. Down at the street Gerry has taken a seat on the Institute's front steps, and he too looks almost tiny in his exhaustion, his head hanging low and his shoulders hunched.
"Does it matter?"
Basira hesitates by his side for a moment, before she too sits down, and Gerry's head tilts a little towards her.
"I guess it doesn't."
"Excellent."
Martin waits until Peter has stepped back into the Lonely, until he can no longer feel his presence even when he reaches in with a tendril of fog.
The last statement of Adelard Dekker -a part of him aches in sympathy at the fact that Gertrude never got to say goodbye properly- looks almost innocuous when he pulls it out of the locked drawer and folds it carefully under the tape recorder.
He stares at the device for a couple seconds, trying to figure out what would be a good end to a story. To his story.
"Goodbye."
Click.
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Season 4 notes
Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm.
ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make.
ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that.
ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm.
GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131.
ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally?
ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed.
ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no?
ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye.
ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol.
ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure.
ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew
ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want
big man. yeah jonah for sure did something.
ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever
ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way"
ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao
ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked?
ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy.
ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man.
ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous.
ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye.
ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds"
ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess.
oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152
ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book?
ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing.
ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt
kill them. oh... bye melanie.
ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick.
Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult.
ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D:
ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D:
ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute.
ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.
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