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Chapter Text

Martin decided quite a long time ago that he didn't mind letting Peter fuck him. As ways to fall deeper into the Lonely go, it's not the worst one.

When they talk - Peter doesn't pretend to care about him, but at least he wants Martin. He talks to him, he needs him, even if it's not as Martin Blackwood, not really, just as an Eye person feeling very, very alone.

But when Peter's bending him over a table - it's clear then that he's just using him, that he's a man relying only on himself and pleasuring himself with a tool, and that Martin should do the same.

Martin does, most of the time, fucking himself on Peter's big cock, relishing the hurt, and the emotional hurt to be neglected. He loves it too much, but that's another problem.

Also, it makes what he's planning easier.

He does get cold and numb and alone, just like Peter wants him to. Just like he needs to be. Still Beholding, to open the gates of what is under the Institute. But with the power to isolate, to banish, to seal, so the Extinction can feed on itself for...

For long enough.

And at this moment, Martin is totally alone, and he loves it. He remembers that it wasn't always the case. He also remembers that it used to hurt.

Peter is, ironically, the one who breaks this. His praise feels cold and distant, but then he reminds Martin there's a place for him in his family, and Martin remembers. That he doesn't have one. Why he doesn't have one.

He thinks about Jon. About the tape Jon left him.

Slowly Martin remembers other people, he remembers feelings, the awfulness of them. Resentment comes first, and then, his perfect emotionless balance lost, all the others, all the feelings that bind and support and manipulate. And then he can feel it again, the invisible thread he left in his wake, not to get lost.

He kisses Peter for the first time. Peter doesn't reject him - because he wants to celebrate his victory, probably, but he doesn't put all his power into not caring, and that's enough of a mistake for Martin to act.

I know you don't want me to ask you questions, Jon's tape said, so I won't face you. I know you don't want to talk about... feelings, so I will only tell you some truths. It's the only thing I'm good at, after all. I don't even know if you'll listen to it.

Martin had still had the heart to laugh at the time. It was the most feelings Jon had ever showed him, but he was not lying. He was just bad at recognizing them. He always had been. In his trembling voice, he talked to Martin, and it was impossible not to listen to all of it.

And Martin believed every word.

As they kiss, Martin weaves a thread between his mouth and Peter's mouth, his mind and Peter's mind. Peter starts to open Martin's shirt, and Martin lets him, of course. It's nothing new. It costs him nothing, and each time Peter touches his skin, he gets caught a bit more in an invisible trap.

Martin doesn't say a word to him, doesn't say what he wants, what he feels. Peter isn't suspicious. Martin stopped trying some time ago.

Belonging to more than one Power is something Peter taught him. But Jon helped him to understand more about it, because he had different hopes for Martin than Peter had. He included in his tape a copy of Mike Crew explaining how he escaped the Spiral, of Julia Montauk telling how she escaped the Dark.

Martin wondered, though. Did he know which Power suited Martin? Did he know what he would do? The Eye has no way to see the future, but maybe this is more what Martin is, deep inside.

Choices matter, everyone says. But of course, you can only ever choose to be yourself.

So Martin belongs to the spiders now.

Peter pushes Martin against the wall, firm, but not harsh. Martin wonders if Peter knows that Martin likes it better harsh.

Martin lets Peter trap himself in Martin's body and thinks about Jon.

He feels the thread between them, that would have been torn a long time ago if not for repairing it with care on both sides. It still stands. Martin would like to think it means it's tried and true, but it's still the weakest it ever was.

Peter was... I'm sorry, said the tape. Peter was the cause of your mother's death. I have no proof. I know it to be truth, because my God seemingly likes to put awful truths in my head. I hope and fear it makes a difference to you.

There was a thread there too, that death hadn't cut, not when years of hate couldn't.

Maybe it was not a good one. But one forgets what good and bad are. At some point, all that is left are spider webs.

He couldn't have caught Peter in more normal circumstances. Lonely people are too elusive. But the fucking, it simulates human contact enough, and then Martin has Peter in his grasp, and he pulls.

Peter groans and bites Martin's shoulder, suddenly passionate; he thrusts harder, his hands on Martin's hips...

"Oh, fuck you," he groans when he realizes he shouldn't want Martin that much, he shouldn't feel anything. He tries to make Martin go, into a dimension where he will be all alone, but they're linked and he can't. He can't flee either, can't either pull out or stop moving, and then Martin has him move and kiss and squeeze exactly like Martin wants him to. Martin comes hard. Peter doesn't.

Martin smiles when he kisses Peter's cheek. "Leave the Institute." he just says. "Don't come back. You've had what you wanted. A chance at your ritual when the time comes. You won't get more."

Peter is smiling. Martin allowed it, but it's still annoying. "For now, you win," Peter says. "But you'll regret this. Far more than I do now."

Martin thinks about Peter's family. He thinks about his mother. He thinks about Jon.

I miss you, Jon said. I want you to know this hasn't changed. Even if it doesn't change your mind. Even if you can feed on it somehow.

"Allow me to doubt it," Martin answers with a too wide smile, the idea of seeing Jon again making his heart race. Or maybe it’s the rush of power. Maybe it’s the same thing, having control over his life again?

After letting Peter disappear, Martin sits on his chair - Elias' chair - for a while. He could get used to it.

Chapter Text

Martin gets new, clean clothes, before going down the stairs and to the Archives.

His heart is beating wildly. It could be anticipation. It could be fear.

He gets to Jon's door without being greeted or hailed, and he murmurs silent prayers to the spiders to take him back quickly. He wants people to notice him. He doesn't want to wear the remains on the Lonely on him.

He's in front of Jon's door now, and Jon should know he's here, doesn't he? It's what he does, even when Martin hid. Maybe he no longer wants to try, and Martin feels some bitter terror gnawing at his heart.

At least he doesn't have to wait to know.

He doesn't knock at Jon's door. He never did. He just enters and looks at him. He no longer belongs to the Beholding, but Jon he can watch forever.

Jon raises his eyes, meets his gaze.

"Martin? Is it you? Are you really here?"

"Yes," and Martin would like to find the words to explain, but he didn't dare to plan them in advance, just in case Jon did not care. "I'm... it's done and it's okay now, I can talk to you, I can be here..."

Jon runs to him and hugs him.

It's so warm, Jon's arms around Martin's back, Jon's head against his shoulder, his hair tickling Martin's chin, and his lean body... Martin almost... well, he stops himself, because he doesn't know what noise he would make, sobbing or laughing or a small cry or maybe a confession, but he hugs back, and for a while, the world is perfect.

Then Jon steps back and looks at him. He looks at his hand, and at him again. And Martin can see the strands of spider silk - can guess that he had them on his clothes, on his hair.

Jon's gaze pierces him, and it would feel good, if Martin wasn't so worried. Jon knows.

"I'm sorry," he answers the unasked question. "It was the only..." He doesn't want to lie to Jon. "It was the way I chose. It got me out. It got me back with you."

Even if he's not sure Jon wants him anymore. The way he looks at him, wary and tense. It hurts Martin. Holding Jon was too good, and he'd hate a universe where this will never happen anymore. No better than the Lonely, a small, hateful voice that sounds like Peter whispers in his head.

"You have a spider in your hair," Jon says.

"Oh," Martin hopes it was the reason why Jon was looking at him like this. He puts his hand on his hair, softly, and hopes it will get on it.

It seems to work. Jon looks at him weirdly again, and what does he expect? Martin always saved spiders when he was still human, so of course he won't hurt this one! He puts it in his pocket, though, so Jon doesn't have to see it.

"You... I'm glad you're here." Jon says. "I missed you."

Martin listens to Jon's voice, looks into his defiant eyes, even as he says this. Jon is absentmindedly rubbing at his hands, as if to remove invisible spider webs. Of course Martin missed him too, more than he can say.

"Thank you," he answers. "I... I couldn't stand the idea never seeing you again."

He wants to kiss Jon, but maybe Jon won't even touch him again.

"Will you tell me how it happened?" Jon asks, and Martin doesn't care if Jon's god is behind him, waiting for nourishment. It's Jon being interested in him, of course he'll take it.

"Do you want to record it?"

Jon looks a bit guilty. "If you don't mind?"

"I never minded," Martin answers truthfully.

He makes his proper statement. He explains how, once he knew about Annabelle Cane, he looked for every trace of her on the Internet. Suspecting that even if she officially disappeared, she could still be out for messages on weird boards.

He sees Jon recoiling when he mentions her, and tries not to take it personally. Annabelle is a monster, of course.

(Martin is one too, now.)

It seems you can use the Internet even under a Lonely thrall, it's just that people won't notice you. Well, maybe monsters who are all about connections will.

Martin asked, then he begged. Only after he abased himself, the girl told him that, being the one who put Elias in prison, he already had a place with them anyway, if he wanted. Martin would just have to remember who his real god was.

Just as he says these words, he feels a small, sharp pain on his side, and realizes the spider he put in his pocket just bit him. He refrains from reacting, because he doesn't want to admit he was wrong about it being harmless. Also, he understands. He made this promise, and already he's giving pieces of himself to the Beholding. Well, to Jon. Will he get the dreams? Or won't he, because he's still an archival assistant, and intends to keep doing his work?

He ends up his story telling him how he let himself fall into the Lonely with just a silk thread connecting him to his own heart. He tells how he stopped the Extinction, how he dismissed Peter. Well, he doesn't exactly tell how, because Jon doesn't need to know the details of what he did to Peter, or of what Peter did to him before; he's disgusted enough already. Anyway, Martin doesn't tell a word that's not true.

And then it's finished, and Martin feels small. Until he dares to look at Jon, and Jon isn't looking at him like he's small at all.

"Martin," he says very softly.

And Jon kisses him, right here, while the tape recorder is still turning. Martin is kissing back, trembling under the storm of his happiness. Jon is trembling too, and it's good, it's all good.

"Is it..." Martin asks, his heart still beating too fast, his lips burning with love, "are we..."

"Yes," Jon answers. He blushes, and Martin will never meet someone cuter in his whole life, because such people don't exist. "Sorry I didn’t ask, but you… you wanted this, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Martin’s statement was crystal clear about his feelings, and he can’t believe Jon still wondered, even as a God pours knowledge into his head. Martin himself was not sure, even if he had hoped when getting the tape. But the tape wasn’t addressed to a spider creature.

“Do you... I mean, you did all this today, it was hard, do you want to go home?" Jon asks.

"No!" Martin answers. "I want to stay here, work here again. It's been a long time. Makes better memories than last time I worked here, you know, with Flesh monsters everywhere."

Jon smiles. "That's good."

"Also," Martin takes a deep breath. Maybe it's too soon, but it's also years too late, and he won't wait again. "Do you want to go out together on Friday, eat, see a movie?"

"I'm not sure about the movie," Jon answers, "but I'll gladly eat with you, and then we'll decide."

Martin giggles, euphoric, and starts to make his desk his again. (He thinks about Elias' office. Someone needs to do that work too. He will explain the situation to Jon later.)

Only when Martin comes home does he remember and dress his tiny wound. The spider is still in his pocket, and seems to have grown bigger. Martin wonders if it drank his blood.

Feed the Web, he remembers, or it will feed on you.

Chapter Text

Basira and Melanie still don't talk that much to Martin, and he probably deserves it. He could make them, but he feels neither the want nor the need. It wouldn't count.

Daisy - he's the one who wasn’t keen on talking to Daisy, but now she feels different. Nicer than before. Not that that's hard, but... it's enough for Martin to ask her. She tells him about the coffin, about how Jon brought her back. About how she was cleaned of the Hunt.

Martin promises himself he won't feel jealous, not now, when he's almost dating Jon.

Martin only stays long enough to get updated on the Archives' projects, and to bring Jon tea. When he enters Jon’s office, Martin's getting shy again. But after thanking him, Jon takes his hand, lightly kisses his fingers, and Martin is blushing like a high school girl.

There's a silk thread hanging from his hand to Jon's mouth. Martin didn't put it there, but it is. He doesn't intend to use it anyway.

Martin wishes he could be with Jon more. But Jon has a lot of research projects, and Martin has a lot of administrative work left too. It's funny how he can pretend Peter is still here, still in charge. No one else ever saw him anyway. Martin enjoys this very much.

In the evening, he regrets not being on Friday yet.

There's noise from the upstairs floor. That one neighbour is hitting his dog again, and Martin has always hated it.

It's so much part of his background that it takes him at least a minute to realize he can do something about it now. It feels weird, the obvious realization taking place in his head, obscuring all the rest.

Martin is in his pyjamas, so he puts on at least some shoes - you never know if there's broken glass in the stairs - and his Spider-man hoodie. He almost laughs at his own accidental joke. It sounds appropriate.

He climbs the stairs and finds himself in front of a closed door, of course. He can't reach the man from here. He hears the dog wailing.

So he just knocks.

"Please, sir, can you open the door?" he says in a strong but polite voice.

There's silence for a while on the other side of the door. Maybe the man feels sorry. Probably not. Maybe just shamed. Martin could leave it here, maybe.

But no, it's not what he's here to do. He won't stop now.

"Please?" he asks again. There are steps, and the door opens.

The man did what Martin asked of him, once. It's a first thread, even if it's a thin one. Martin concentrates to get more. They know each other, it's something. But he seems very threatening - he always did, that's why it's the first time Martin's even tried - and it seems to him this is the wrong direction.

But Martin is very angry at him. And his voice gets cold, commanding, when he says "Stop hitting your dog at once."

The man almost laughs.

Except that the small spider - the one who lives in Martin's clothes now - jumps at the man's face, and he has a moment of panic, trying to crush it, to claw at his own face.

But Martin doesn't let him.

The man is panicked. Martin has leverage now, and he pushes. The man's hands stop obeying him.

"That's better," Martin says.

He makes him go back inside and close the door, trapping himself with Martin. He explains to the man that he won't ever hurt his dog again - that he won't ever hurt any animal or human again, that what will happen otherwise will be worse than what's happening now.

What is happening to him now is that he's unable to move, while the spider has bit his neck and is drinking his blood. Its abdomen is getting so huge, it has drunk maybe half a pint, and so slowly...

Martin lets the man moan. The dog is thumping its tail. When he leaves, he feels very good about it. He sleeps well this night and goes to work in a good mood the day after. Jon is still here. It could seem like nothing, just seeing him, a few words, a few shy smiles and awkward blushes, but for Martin, who stayed in the Lonely for so long, it feels like the world.

The third day, when Martin visits the Archives for a bit of work, Melanie... she doesn't exactly smile, but she talks to him without frowning.

"Since you're back on the team," she says, "you've got to meet our new member."

And she opens a yellow door that wasn't there before. There's no way Martin will ever go in, but Melanie doesn't ask him to.

Martin remembers the woman who comes out. She was trapped in the corridors, and he wanted to save her, but he was unable to. She looks different now. Martin wonders if he looks the same.

The woman, whom Melanie introduces as Helen, seems to recognize him too. Martin wanted to help her, she says, when he was trapped in her corridors, and Martin is not sure about how much sense that makes.

"Which one... which one were you?" he tries to ask. She really looks like the woman he saw. She doesn't look human at all.

"I could say I was torturing myself," she answers. "Don't we all?"

"She helped during the Flesh attack," Melanie explains. Martin doesn't think she means to remind Martin that he didn't. But he thinks that even if she knew it did, it would not stop her talking about it. On the whole, it was nice of her. It makes Martin feel more at home.

"We all change," Helen almost chirps, and it could be an attack on Martin, but Melanie just smiles at her.

And then comes Friday evening and Martin's date. He's terribly nervous. He has checked the reservation a dozen times. It's not the first time he's eaten with Jon, but he still has no idea how to act. He's good at one-sided pining, but not at this.

The Jon smiles awkwardly at him, and Martin is not sure he will notice if Martin gets it all wrong. It's a bit reassuring. They can mess this up together.

Martin searches for a subject of conversation, anything, and asks why Jon wasn't interested in a movie.

(Of course he managed to look petty and annoyed with the first question! Good job!)

"I don't know," Jon answers moodily. "I'm just... picky, I guess, and I don't have time to try and guess which movie I could potentially like."

Then there's a bit more silence.

Martin tries to tell in a funny way how he filled out the holidays for the librarians today, and immediately Jon asks him what happened with the researchers Peter vanished.

(They were never seen again, even after he left.)

Jon is intense, like in everything, and doesn't do small talk, but as Martin is answering, he realizes that talking about how evil Peter was - it actually helps. And in the middle of this conversation, Jon puts his hand on Martin's, and Martin locks his fingers with Jon's, and it's wonderful.

It gets easier, striking a balance between too-superficial matters and the end of the world. Jon even talks about his childhood, about his tastes in food, about normal things. Martin sucks up every detail like a sponge, and he's smiling widely without having to remember to do it.

Sometimes Jon looks angry and tense, especially when he rants about a former case. It reminds Martin of before, when things were… not better, never better, when he’s here with Jon right now, but they looked simpler. He doesn’t take it badly.

It's enough, he tries to convince himself. But he still adds, after the meal:

"Do you want to come to my place?"

Jon nods, Martin smiles, and then they're holding hands again. It's perfect. The wind is cold, but Martin feels so incredibly warm here, talking about mundane matters, subway routes and closing times (and a bit of subway monsters, because these things happen).

Only when he's already to the door does Martin remember something.

"Let me... go first and check something?" he says, panicking a bit. Fortunately, Jon doesn't ask.

Martin gets his spider, and puts it in a clothes drawer in his room, with firm instructions not to get out until Jon has left. He's not sure it understands, but Martin will try.

Then Jon enters; Martin offers him a glass of water (would it be polite or creepy to offer the strong alcohol he keeps?), and really, he doesn't know what to do. Jon seems to have an idea, though, removes his coat and sits on the sofa.

"I'm so glad you're here," Martin stammers, "with me, I mean." He wonders what is the appropriate distance between two people in a sofa. He wants to get close, so close, but he calculates the exact middle of the space next to Jon and sits there.

It's Jon who leans against him, his head against Martin's shoulder, making his whole body shiver, but it's Martin who then finds the courage to touch his face. As they're kissing for the second time, Martin's whole body feels weightless and vibrating, and he thinks about wishes and love and the softness of silk threads.

Chapter Text

Jon and Martin have slowly slipped onto the sofa and are now both lying on it, so close that they're sharing both body heat and heart warmth, and kissing nonstop. Martin feels like he could fall asleep like this and like he's never been more awake. Jon's lips are soft and warm when they flutter against his skin, tasting Martin's cheeks and chin and forehead, and when they kiss deeper, longer, they get eager. Martin could stay here for eternities, exploring the different ways of kissing.

He wants to kiss Jon's neck now, and his sweater is getting in the way, so he slides a hand under Jon's clothes.

"Stop!" Jon says abruptly, and of course Martin does.

"Sorry," Martin stammers. What did he do wrong?

"I don't want to..." Jon sighs. "It's not you, it's... I want to make clear that I won't have sex with you. I don't want to give you false expectations. With anyone, I mean. It's really not you."

"Oh." Martin sighs in relief. "Yeah, I... no, I can't say I knew. I just had some idea. There was gossip." Jon's cheeks are red, and he looks like he's trying very hard to be offended. "I don't care. I don't care at all. I was just trying to remove your shirt, but... nothing that you won't want."

"Oh." Jon says now. "Well, removing shirts seems good. You first?"

Martin feels a bit self-conscious as he gets up to his knees and undresses himself, but well, it's not like Jon doesn't know that he could lose a few kilos. And he likes the way Jon watches, like he wants to see everything of Martin.

"You?" he asks. Jon blushes again and removes his sweater, slowly, then his shirt. He's thin and wiry and his skin is dark and scarred; he looks vulnerable and so beautiful.

Martin loves him, and for a few shameful seconds, he feels himself wanting him in a way Jon strictly forbid. He hopes Jon doesn't mind Martin having dirty thoughts. He hopes Jon can't read his dirty thoughts, or at least not by accident.

They lie against each other once more. One of Jon's hands is exploring Martin's arm - the other is stuck between his body and the sofa - and Martin loves every second of it, every delicate touch of fingers against his skin.

Martin takes Jon's face in his hands and kisses him again, a bit solemn, heart beating even faster. Then his hands go on Jon's shoulder, and his mouth on Jon's neck, as he starts to kiss and mouth and nibble.

Jon's reaction is immediate: with a very short moan, he tilts his head back, offering his neck to Martin's mouth.

Martin feels both powerful and very weak, in a delightful way that heats his whole body.

"Is it okay if I leave marks?" he asks.

Jon gives a trembling sigh before answering. "Yes. Yes, do it."

Martin sucks hard; he's shivering, just from hearing Jon's shaky breathing. He tries to bite, and Jon inhales sharply. Martin almost stops, but Jon insists that he keep going, and will Martin ever deny him anything? Maybe. Never something so good. And all the while, Jon's hand is still playing on Martin's body, his sides and back and shoulder, and Martin's hands have found Jon's waist and are circling it, feeling his skin, like it could keep him from disappearing.

Of course there are silk threads here too, on Jon's neck - they are everywhere between them now. Martin won't use them, but he sucks at them like they're cotton candy. He doesn't think Jon can feel them.

Martin feels the deep urge to use them to please Jon more, deeper - it wouldn't be sex, not exactly, and it wouldn't be bad. Oh, he wants it so much. He already knows how he would do it...

He shakes his head. He doesn't like these thoughts. He's not sure they're coming from him. Well, they are, but not from a part of him that he likes.

So he kisses Jon again, tries to memorize the taste of his skin, to put it into words for poetry he won't write.

"I think I should go," says Jon suddenly. Martin has no idea of what prompted that. Is it last subway for the night already? Do Jon's powers include an inner clock with reminders?

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes! But I need to leave at some point, don't I?"

Martin hesitates, wants to ask him to stay the night. But Jon seems weirdly upset, and there's still the problem of the big blood-drinking spider in his house. Martin casts a glance behind him, to check if it didn't escape, if it isn't the reason why Jon is acting like this. He doesn't see it.

And there's also the problem of Martin's own, growing, hunger. He should be thankful to Jon for leaving before something happens, really, so why does he feel dejected and lonely already? What is he afraid of?

"Of course," Martin answers. He looks at Jon putting his clothes back on. He tries not to stare. "See you soon."

"See you on Monday," Jon answers, and of course it's normal. They won't have a date every day. But Martin already knows he will count the hours.

He would love a goodbye kiss. A very soft one. He probably should initiate it. But if it's not Jon's idea, it somehow counts less... yes, but it would still be better than nothing.

Except that Jon has already opened the door, and running after him would feel weird. Martin can just wave with a sheepish smile, and Jon smiles back.

He didn't even tell Jon he loves him, let alone how much.

It's only a few minutes before Martin feels the loneliness wrap around him like a heavy blanket. Every breath gets faster, and he thinks about Peter. Peter used to hold Martin, and it always felt draining, like the reverse of a hug. It's what he feels now. Peter's face flashes before his eyes, a possessive smile.

No, it didn't end like this! Martin won! He escaped!

Martin controls his pace, walks calmly to his room when he wants to run and crash on the bed. He opens the drawer and the spider is still there. Martin feels like it's even bigger now, almost as big as his hand.

"Hey," he asks. "I feel lonely. Can I hug you? Thanks for not showing when he was here, by the way."

The spider jumps on Martin's arm, and crawls to his chest. Martin cuddles it gently. it makes him feel a little better.

"You need a name, you know, if you will stay," Martin says. "Can I call you Christina, like Christina Rossetti? I will not mar the web, Though sad I am to see the small lives ebb. Though I have no idea if you're a girl, and I can't really judge by your size, can I. Maybe Elwyn? It's the name of the guy who wrote Charlotte's Web, and it's quite gender neutral to me."

Talking makes him feel better, and he slowly relaxes.

Elwyn is a vampire spider, Martin checked. They don't usually grow past half a centimeter, and while they drink human blood, it's only from the mosquitoes they catch. It seems he got a special one.

"Are you hungry? I guess you are."

Martin could, he guesses, give it a bit of his blood in a bowl. He wouldn't mind. But it's not what the spider wants, and Martin guesses, it's not what he wants either. He puts back his clothes, then his Spider-man hoodie.

"Do you want to go to find a meal?"

Martin quickly checks the Internet to see in which London districts there are the most violent crimes; preferably by night (no site will help for the last point, it's annoying).

"I will find bad guys for you, okay? Just come with me."

Martin is sure it won't be as easy as in his rough plans. But at least, it's something to do that will make him forget a bit that Jon is not with him right now.

Something that might help him to fully forget it, if it works.

Chapter Text

"Let me go," the man begs, "let me go!"

Martin wakes up sweating. Elwyn is sleeping on his bed, at his feet. It's as big as a small cat now, and just as fluffy.

He didn't let any of them go.

He didn't kill them either, of course. What they did - it wasn't enough to deserve it. It's not like you can easily walk in on a murder scene even if you want to. Unless you're too late. And when you're too early, well, you stop it.

Martin loves the part where he stops things, even if he feels like there wasn't any actual murder planned.

One of them - he had stolen a handbag, just that, and Martin made him bring it back - he was so scared of Elwyn. He was screaming and crying just from seeing Elwyn, before Martin took hold of him, because he paid his tribute in blood. It was easier than with others, and it felt wonderful.

At one point, Martin hadn't understood why people were afraid of spiders. Now, he knows fear won't save anyone from them, exactly the reverse. He wishes he had taken the thief's name. He wishes he could finish what he started. But a handbag - it's too little, really.

Martin's alarm clock is still screaming at him. He can't mind control it, so he raises his arm to make it stop. It's time to go to work.

He will see Jon again. He wanted to call him on Sunday - if a whole day passed, you don't seem that desperate, do you ? - but he didn't dare to do it. But they have actually planned to see each other today. So it's good.

He wants to be happy about it, but not too much, just in case he would be disappointed. This is not what happens as he's taking a shower. Longing, hope and fear take turns to make his skin too hot and his heart too cold. But it's not his own feelings he can control. And even if he could - well, he likes to feel his love so deep actually, even when it hurts. He probably would have let the Lonely suck out all of him if he didn't.

When Martin enters the Archives, Jon is already here, and he smiles when he sees him. Martin loves this smile, he seems happy or rather - relieved.

"Hey," Martin says. He walks to Jon's desk. He has no good reason for this, except that he wants to, he wants to touch him. He puts a hand on his shoulder. "Was the week-end good? Did you have fun?"

"Oh, average," Jon answers, tilting his head against Martin's wrist in a way that's just too cute. "Some time in the past I was described as a workaholic, but now that I'm literally addicted to the job, week-ends become harder." Then he blushes and starts again, nervous. "Of course, I assume I was asked about the part of the week-end you weren't in. Otherwise, well, you know. Good."

Martin was not sure he did know, after the way Jon left, and it makes him happy. He wants to stay. He shouldn't. Jon has work to do. Jon is actually working right now, reading some old statement.

Martin caresses Jon's neck, makes him wince a bit.

"Oh, sorry." It's not that Martin forgot the marks he left on Jon's neck, it's just that... he didn't imagine they would still hurt.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jon says distractedly. "Martin, do you know anything about the Web ritual? It's one of the few I haven't heard about, and it has bothered me quite a bit."

"I don't know why I should..." Martin starts, defensive. It's not like spider monsters came to his house to plan the end of the world. Or like it came as automatic knowledge, and Jon knows that better than anyone. "Wait, I mean - I didn't learn anything when I... became what I am, but Peter talked to me about it. He said that to his knowledge they have never tried. He's not sure they have one. He thinks they might have too much fun with the world as it is."

"I was liking this suggestion when you first mentioned it," Jon mentions, smiling. "Then less so. Thanks for sharing, even if I don't trust Peter Lukas' honesty nor his knowledge. I need to record this." He waves at the statement.

Martin understands that it's his cue to leave. Anyway, he's at work, he should work, and once Jon would have mentioned it as soon as Martin asked about his week-end.

"Oh, and Martin, if someone comes to talk to you about a... spider apocalypse, will you tell me?"

Jon sounds like he's unsure. Like the answer is not totally obvious. "Of course I will!" Martin answers immediately. Then he remembers something and stumbles, "Well, if they don’t stop me, of course, you know how it is."

"I... can guess." Jon answers, hesitant. "Thank you, Martin."

Martin is quite sure they were a bit too casual about it.

He feels happy, though, as he leaves for his administrative work. He really wonders if Elias really loved this or did it out of religious devotion. It's dull to Martin, when research was exciting, and not just because of Jon.

The day is good, and the next day too, and it must be too much, because as soon as Wednesday, he feels the hunger coming back.

On Thursday morning, he takes Elwyn with him in the subway, a few legs and sometimes a few eyes poking out from the bag on his knees. It's unnaturally big for a spider, but not to the point that anyone will be sure it's supernatural. Unless some spider expert travels with him, but the odds are low.

Most people are wary, some others curious, seeming to wonder if it's a toy. Some of them, though - they are absolutely terrified, and as it's all he can do for now, Martin won't let them leave the carriage, or even put the crowd between them.

He wonders what would happen if he were to follow one of them home, to play with them until the end - he's sure he would stop feeling hungry for a time. But he won't. Of course he won't.

He almost jumps from the carriage at his stop, and puts Elwyn back in his bag. He brings it to Elias' office, with strict instructions not to visit the Archives. He didn't want it to meet Jon when it was normal sized, and now... it would be very awkward.

He works for a while, then he goes to Jon's office and offers him to have lunch together. Jon complains, because his work is important, so Martin takes his sandwich order and promises to come back with mandatory food.

Jon actually thanks him and it feels good. Then he offers to eat it just the two of them, and it feels even better.

"Jon, there's something I would like to ask..."

"Yes, I would love to go on another date with you on this week-end!" Jon answers very fast.

Martin blushes. "Oh my... oh... thank you, I'm glad... and I want to, yes, but it's not what I wanted to ask."

"Oh. What then?"

"It's a bit private and I... can I talk to you about my being a monster problems? I know you fear spiders, and I know you don't have to feel like we have the same problems, but I'd still like to talk."

"Oh, of course," Jon answers. He even looks curious.

"You know, the feeding your god thing. I need to do it, but I don't know... I don't know if it really works if I keep letting people go? I think I'm meant to... trap them, that's the point."

Jon shivers, of course he does.

Martin wishes he would Ask.

But he doesn't, and Martin won't be a coward about it, so he tells him about his neighbour...

"Wait," Jon cuts him off, "you mean that you had a giant spider in your room when I visited?"

"Oh yes, sorry. It was not giant at the time?"

"No, it's... I like... I mean, I had the feeling that there was a spider out for my blood all the time I was there and I'm happy it was not you? I made it weird."

"No, it's... it's weird by itself, I think."

There’s a silence, and Martin finds the strength to explain the rest, the bad parts of London and the subway and how it doesn’t feel enough.

"So you don't want to kill people," Jon asks. He looks surprised. Cautious. Fond. No, Martin really can’t read these things.

"Yes, or even to haunt them like… Maybe I could. For very bad people," Martin confesses. "It's not like I could find them whenever I wish."

"What about politicians?" Jon asks cautiously. "Some of them are really awful."

"I can't... It would maybe be nice if I could just... control the world politics like this, but if it was possible, some other Web avatar would probably do it, I think." Jon snorts, implying they could be already doing it. "It only works when there are threads... it's not easy to explain, but people who already know me, or people who are afraid of me in the first place, or of spiders of course." Interrupting them in the middle of a crime seemed to work for now. Especially with a giant spider in tow. But Martin fears Elwyn is still vulnerable to bodyguards with guns, and Martin too.

"I... I don't know..." Jon concludes, worried. "If someone attacks the Archives again... but I don't want that to happen, of course."

He seems somehow afraid now. Martin wants to reassure him, to tell him that he doesn't see Jon as a potential victim - even if he's really scared of spiders. Even if he feels like other avatars would be nourishing and strong. But he doesn't want to be the one to suggest it first. Even to deny it. He wants to hug Jon, but he’s not sure that would help, if he didn’t explain too.

"I could... try... these people scared of you. Ask them what they've done, so maybe you could find one... that would deserve it..."

"Jon, it's..." Martin is blushing, like it was an indecent proposal. "Thank you... I really appreciate... But I think... it would feed you, rather than me?"

"Oh, of course." Jon looks at Martin in the eyes. "What would you want to do? Do you have other ideas how I could help?"

It's still not compulsion. Martin wishes it was. What he wants to ask for is hard.

"Would you... would you let me... as bad people go... would you give me Elias?"

"He's not mine to dispose of!" Jon answers, very fast. Too fast. Before he's finished his sentence, he's already realized how much it's not true.

Chapter Text

It's easy to enter the prison. No one notices Martin shouldn't be here. No one notices he has a cat-sized spider walking behind him, and Elwyn seems a bit annoyed at this fact. It snaps its mandibles, trying to intimidate the guards, but Martin has other plans.

The guards call Elias to the visiting room, and though he certainly knows what is waiting for him, he comes without a protest. Not waiting for Martin to make him.

"You're getting delusions of control, Martin," he begins.

"That makes two of us," Martin answers.

"You're aware you can do nothing to me that matters. Just as putting me here didn't matter. If you kill me, your beloved Archivist dies with me, so you won't dare it. I know it, you know it. So what are you planning?"

"First I will set you free - or rather, get you out of here. When I sent you to prison, it was not to hurt you, it was to protect those I care about. I'll admit I failed on that." He gets close to Elias, while keeping him frozen in place. "But don't assume I've ever tried to hurt you before."

"So, you need me in the Archives?" Elias asks.

"Oh, it's more an Institute thing. Someone to do the boring paperwork, you know. I'm not paid enough for this. I will personally see to it that you won't take too much initiative."

"I can only guess you won't be my personal assistant like you were for Peter."

"You can be my personal assistant if you insist on it. Now come. They won't stop you."

Martin makes the guards open all the doors. Elias keeps the handcuffs, though, and as they walk down the street he lets people notice them, even if they won't stop them. He also controls every one of Elias' steps. Elias isn't afraid, not yet, but just seeing him seething is somehow satisfying. Martin is not sure whether he feels good about it in a natural way, or in a Web way.

Once they're in Elias' office, he makes him sit, and starts to fasten more threads, tying him to his office, to the room, to some habits and obligations. He's sitting across from Elias and watches him working for a while. Checking that he does it to the best of his abilities.

And then he makes Elias stab himself in the middle of his left hand with his letter opener.

Martin is not good with this, so he had planned it. He reminds himself of Elias hurting Tim (and making Martin leave them alone together), torturing Melanie (Martin wanted to tell her not to accept the job, he really did). And he let Sasha die, and Jon... so if Martin has to feed on someone…

Elias doesn't scream. But he winces in pain, and Martin feels a pang of elation in his soul.

Elwyn scuttles onto the table and starts drinking the blood dripping from his wound.

"Who are you pretending for?" Martin asks. "For me? I can taste your pain and your fear. For your God? I'd bet it knows too, and it doesn't care. That's its job."

Elias doesn't answer.

"Speaking of knowing and not caring," Martin continues, "do you remember when you were pretending not to know how the fire extinguishers worked, so you could watch the worms start to eat Jon and Tim? I think it's time you got some scars too."

Elias raises his right hand, the letter opener still in it. It gets very close to his eye, but Martin won't take that from him. Not yet. Only near the end, or as a punishment. He only makes Elias make a hole, superficial but wide, in his cheek.

Elwyn crawls over him. Elias can't do anything about it.

"Good, cutie," Martin says. "We don't kill him."

"Your pet is a messy eater," Elias comments, coldly. Martin makes him stop talking, keep his mouth open, and Elwyn explores it with a few legs.

"I think you're right," Martin answers. "It bothers you more than the bleeding. I don't think you get to clean your desk for the next few months."

It's so petty. But Elias is so petty himself, only this will work on him. And Martin has time to get to know him more, to find the right buttons to push.

If Jon was here, he'd just have to ask what Elias fears the most. But Martin didn't ask. First, because there's a risk Elias would enjoy it, and second, because he doesn't want Jon to know what's happening; he doesn't want Jon to pity Elias even a bit.

"I'll be back," Martin says, and leaves him there, with Elwyn to watch over him just in case he could secretly do something with the threads.

Jon looks at him anxiously when he enters his office.

"It's okay," Martin explains. "I will make it work. Also, I can get out for research now, if you need it! I'm... not as vulnerable as I was. I promise I'll be careful anyway."

"Thank you, Martin." Jon answers. "It's very much appreciated. Actually, I have so much of it lately!"

Jon smiles, just a bit, not as communication, just as a mark of happiness. Martin wants nothing more than to make him smile this way all their lives.

"So, if you could just check this out..." Jon starts. "There's no danger! No big stakes either, but I want to know, and I can't really ask Basira or Melanie to do it for me. They frown a bit on investigation that's not about saving the world these days, and I can understand that."

And Martin checks buildings and asks the neighbours like so long ago.

When he comes back, Jon is recording, so he goes up to see Elias first. He has worked well, made huge accurate charts. He's good at this.

Martin makes him delete them all and start again.

"Beg your God to remind you what you had planned," he says. "That way, you'll just have to push the right buttons again. Maybe even if I made you forget how the software works..."

Elias' anger is almost tangible.

"I am tired of your games, Martin."

"Already? It's only been half a day and I'm not planning to stop. As you were saying, it's not like I can kill you.”

“You brought me into my place of power..."

"You know," Martin cuts him off, "I think we're actually in Jon's place of power. And he gave you to me."

"He has no authority to do so."

"Because you certainly had authority to give me to Peter."

"I have something sad to tell to you, Martin. Jon took no pleasure in leaving me in your care. He was even a bit disgusted by what you would do to me - by you. It's the real reason why he doesn't look right now. And he accepted only because he feared - or rather knew - that if he objected he would be your victim instead."

"Shut up," Martin orders with a mocking smile.

He's shivering a bit. He has to remember that of course, Elias can lie. He could just keep his mouth closed, but he feels too hateful for that. Maybe it's good. Maybe he can use it to feed deeper, without remorse - and then Elias is stabbing his own tongue into the desk.

But it doesn't silence him, and Martin keeps hearing his voice in his head.

"We are still in my place of power," it echoes deeply. "I will show you. Do you know that after he left your house and got home, he spent an hour applying disinfectant to his neck because he was imagining small spiders under his skin? Do you know that sometimes he remembers your arms around him and he feels such an itch that he scratches himself hard enough to draw blood? He needs his Web scar, after all, and it being self-inflicted is thematically appropriate. Do you know that every time he kisses you he wonders if he really wants this, or if you made him believe it?"

And as he's talking, the images are flowing in Martin's head, and he knows every one of them to be true. Lost in the current, Martin can only listen, until he remembers he has powers too.

With all this strength he throws Elias into sleep.

And then he falls onto a chair, breathing fast, and feeling very, very alone.

Chapter Text

Martin can't go on like this, he can't.

Elias can't magically lie. Martin knows, he knows with such certainty... Oh, he should have known he never really needed to talk for this, he just loves the sound of his own voice.

But he still needs to ask Jon. To see his face. To be in his presence, if he hasn't already fled him. He doesn't know what he will say.

Jon is here. Martin almost can't believe that Jon is here. He looks very grave, and Martin knows he knows. At least part of it.

"You..." He doesn't know what to say. "I love you." It sounds sad and pitiful and it is. "But if you don't, if you're just scared of me and don't dare reject me, then, then..." He's crying. He's making a mess of it. He didn't cry in front of Elias, for god's sake. “You really hurt yourself to erase the memory of my skin on yours?”

"Martin, I..." Jon doesn't answer, seems to think about it a lot, long enough for Martin to know he will hate any answer. "I do love you."

"And it seems so absurd to you that you believe I have brainwashed you into it!"

"It's not... not exactly this! I... I had feelings for you before you gave yourself to the Web, I was just wondering... my feelings changed. Not in intensity, in nature, and..."

"Maybe it's because I've changed!"

"Either way it's because you've changed. Oh, Martin, I'm sorry."

Martin knows he cried again because of Jon's words and their intonation, not because he can feel anything in his numb eyes and his numb heart.

"Why didn't you ask?" Martin almost screams. "If you didn't trust me, you could get the truth out of me, couldn't you? You never used your powers on me, and I thought... I thought it was good, but..."

"Because I was not sure! Because if you were not controlling me, I would have hurt your feelings. And maybe there was some kind of cosmic balance, maybe you would be able to use me your own way if I started it?" He sighs. "I have no excuse."

"Ask me now!" Martin orders. "Ask me if I ever did pull threads on you!"

Jon waits a bit, and Martin, horrified, realizes he experiments. He checks whether he's able to refuse it. And Martin remembers a few of Jon's weird reactions, saying no to a movie, leaving without reason, too sharply. He should have noticed, except he couldn't.

"Did you ever use any spider powers to alter my mind?"

Jon's compulsion is a soft thread of a totally different material, with no right to feel so good. Martin has no other wish than to be wrapped in it as his privacy is slowly devoured.

"Never," he answers. He still has the faintest hope that this could fix everything.

"Did you ever want to?" Jon asks, his eyes tender and his words cruel, and this hope died like so many before it.

"Sometimes," Martin answers. Jon's threads are not satisfied. "Most of the time because I wanted to make you happy. But I fought it!"

"Can you be sure," Jon asks, merciless, "that you'll always win in the future when you fight it?"

"No." Martin answers, as a final self indictment. "No. My power is growing. The hunger is growing. I don't know what I'm becoming."

And already it's changing, already the threads he's wielding, without the warmth of Jon's love, are becoming colder and sharper. He doesn't need to use them, he doesn't even need to feel the hunger.

"Do you plan to use it on me now?" he asks again, and Martin winces.

"I don't plan to. I want to. I want to fix things. But I'm fighting it, I promise."

"Martin..."

Martin already knows it won't end up in a question. The threads aren't the same. It will still touch his raw heart, but Jon always did this.

"We're a mess!" Jon continues. "We're such a mess." and there's despair in his voice too. Martin had not been sure. Of course it's different. It's not a surprise for him. Or, Martin bitterly thinks, more like a relief.

"I want to ask you a few things too," Martin tries to keep his voice levelled, not to cry again.

"Of course! You'll just have to believe me, because..."

"Of course I'll believe you! You're the one who thought I was... I trusted you, you know this! I had no reason not to." No tears. It's important. "Did you ever want to date me?"

"I..." Jon has a pained sigh as he tries to put his thoughts in words. "I'm so sorry I doubted you. You are nice and strong and a wonderful man." These words should feel good, but they hurt now. "I realized my feelings when you were working for Peter, and I missed you badly. I played dirty to get you back, and it was my fault you joined the spiders. Because I needed you. So yes, I wanted to date you. Even if you're no longer my safe place."

"So it's guilt?" Martin asks. He feels so, so cold. "Guilt and nostalgia. I understand better now."

Jon lowers his head, unwilling to justify his actions, unwilling to fight to get Martin back.

"I would have made efforts for you," Martin continues, "I would. But if you hate what I am, what could I do? I won't beg the Eye to take me back just so I would be your subordinate and you could still love me."

"I do love you," Jon protests, but Martin interrupts him sharply. "You have no idea what love is!"

He leaves before Jon can try and hug him. He doesn't want to ruin that feeling forever too. It can't go on, he says, it can't go on, as he tries to understand the reality of it, and later, as he tries to convince himself not to accept Jon's clumsy apologies.

He could have forgiven Jon lying to him, he would have wanted to see him beg him to stay together, but the real problem - it's not what Jon wants. He's terrified of Martin. And that can't be fixed ever.

His steps don't lead him to the assistant's office. He guesses his role in this needs to end too, as the date they've been planning. He's going to Elias' office.

Elias smiles at Martin as he enters the room. He pretends not to notice Elwyn is still sucking the blood out of his wounded hand.

Martin can feel his grief turn into anger. That's good. That's why he came here.

"It was not bad," he tells Elias. "But you know, it's your problem, you Eye types. You haven't done anything, all of this was already true. I should probably thank you, for making it crash and burn before I could get used to it. But I won't."

(Of course, all of this is because Elias gave him to Peter. He still regrets it deeply, even with what it gave him, not loving his God enough.)

"You will hurt me again?" Elias asks. "I could learn to enjoy it, especially as it springs from your frustrated powerlessness. I wanted for Peter to deprive Jon of any anchor he still had, but I'm glad you did it all by yourself in the end."

"Kneel," Martin orders. Elias, of course, has no choice but to obey. For all Martin knows, his pride is the most vulnerable part of him.

"You know that we Eye types learn to see behind the appearances, won't you? You can try to humiliate me, but all I will see is us playing some comedy where I'm not the ridiculous one."

"I think you like Jon," Martin says, walking to Elias, gripping his hair. “I think you were jealous of me. And you had what you wanted, when you pulled us apart, but does it mean you won? It's true I can only control your body, after all. Your movements, like a puppet. But you know what else I can control, and you forgot? Every one of your body's urges. You think you know what it means to want Jon. You don't."

All Martin has to do is to pull a thread that's already there. And Elias tries to stay impassive, but he can't, not as his mouth is watering and his cock rising in his trousers with an unnatural intensity.

"Of course he won't come here," Martin whispers. "I don't think he looks at us. I don't think he cares. But even if he did he wouldn't come for you, and now, he wouldn't even come to stop me."

As Martin looks at his despair, it's so easy to add other threads, to drag Elias' mind in unnatural directions. He trained this with Peter. (He thought about this when he was with Jon, even when he didn’t want to.)

"Does it help, to know that I'm the cause of this? Or does it make it worse?" But Martin doesn't let him answer. If Elias really wants to, he can talk in his head anyway. Of course he doesn't let him touch himself either, but he can feel him trying.

"You know, I could make you want me, instead. And I will. It will be fun to see."

It's not that Elias is attractive - even if he probably is - it's just hatred. It's enough passion to make it good, if Martin tries not to think about Jon.

He pulls the threads well enough to make Elias slowly crumble. Martin does make Elias nuzzle against his knees, yes, but he doesn't control every one of his desperate moans. When Elias asks Martin to fuck him against the desk, it's entirely of his own volition. Martin obliges, though he doesn't when Elias begs him for an orgasm, crying and drooling.

Martin could do this every day, and says so, patting Elias' hair and pitying him out loud for having spent all of his ammunition last time.

Chapter Text

Martin lets Elias have a sandwich. He could starve him, but it’s all about keeping him alive, and, probably, in good health.

Also, he can still make him feel hunger whenever he wants. Though having him begging for food wouldn't be quite as humiliating as what Martin already did.

He lets him sleep, too, escape in his dreams. He will wake up anyway, and remember, and immediately start to work, even if Martin is not here on a Saturday.

He needs to go home. He doesn't want to go home. He doesn't want to remember Jon's body against his and his sweet moans. It was only one week ago.

"Elwyn," he calls. "Come home." He's proud to see it's grown even bigger. There's no way it can fit into his work bag. But he won't leave it here to watch over Elias. He can't be alone at home, not tonight.

In the subway, he doesn't let people flee from Elwyn again, while he cradles it in his arms. He doesn't even let them comment on it. He's not hungry - not this kind of hungry -, but he doesn't care.

Martin dreams of Peter this night. He dreams of arms around him, too immaterial to hold him, too cold to get away without getting badly burned. He dreams of a smile both fond and distant. He could not disappoint Peter, all he asked of him was his loneliness, and Martin had so much of that...

Peter from the nightmare doesn't say: you regret it now. But it's still all that Martin has in his head when he wakes up. He feels dizzy and confused. He has a blessed second where he doesn't remember all what happened, and then it all comes clear again.

He hates everything he did, and he has no idea what he would do differently if given the chance.

Maybe if he hadn't come for Elias - he would be preparing for a date with Jon right now. But everything Elias told him would still be true. And he would be very hungry. He loves to think that he wouldn't feed on Jon, not ever, but - maybe it's better this way. Maybe if Jon was with him today, he couldn't resist the desire to make him happier, less afraid.

No, it's not better at all.

Martin has a few awful ideas about what he should do now. Text Jon to talk - no, certainly not. Go to the Institute - on a week-end, he hates that place. Write sad poetry - like he really wants to make things worse. Just spend the week-end sleeping - this one doesn't sound so bad, actually.

But Elwyn clings on his leg. It seems it has a few ideas about what to do.

"I promise you, I will let you have more of Elias," he says, petting its head. "But tonight, we can go hunting like last week-end. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Elwyn answers with enthusiastic jumping.

So of course it gives him an excuse to sleep all day. He'll need it.

He dreams again, but this time, it's about Jane Prentiss. She's outside his door. He's so scared- of dying, of course, but more of becoming like her, of contaminating other people himself. He won't ever eat canned peaches again.

And all this time Jon is here.

He looks at him with a cold, resigned face. Sometimes, he's looking at his cellphone with the same expression, and Martin is sure he's reading the fake texts Jane sent while posing as him.

He wants to go and shake him, but he can't. If he stops paying attention even one second, the worms will get in. And something terrible will happen if he can't get out alive this time.

It's a sleep that gives no rest at all. And when Martin wakes up, he understands what it means. The Eye has withdrawn its protection. It's weird it comes so late, to be honest.

Martin wonders if it's a natural, gradual phenomenon or a direct consequence of what he did to Elias. Not that it changes a lot about his situation.

The night is not here yet, but even at the worst times, when he allows himself to take long depression naps, he won't spend a day without showering or eating. But when he looks at the kitchen table, he sees something.

It's not only that Elwyn has put web everywhere, like it sometimes does. It's what's underneath. Martin sees a tape recorder and a notebook. Neither of them belong to him.

He doesn't tear the web, just winds it back on his fingers, very delicately. His heart is beating faster than it should as he takes the things. Of course he's thinking about Jon. Was Jon here? Did he leave him a tape like when Martin was Peter's assistant? With explanations maybe? Of course if he did Martin - probably won't be able to accept them, because it's not Jon's fault, but it would still be nice. To listen to his voice. Jon, talking to him. Oh, Martin is so hopeless. He must remember he's the one who broke up, technically. He just hopes Jon wasn't too relieved about it.

So he listens to the tape before even looking at the notebook.

He's disappointed. It's not for him. It's an old recording actually, just after Leitner's death if he understands correctly...

It's about Jon as a child.

It doesn't take long for Martin's disappointment to be replaced with a conflicted curiosity, and then with a deep compassion. So it was Jon's childhood. Of course, Jon never talked about it, with him, or seemingly with anyone, and Martin can understand why.

He has stopped being annoyed at Jon even before the story with the spider Leitner starts. He just wants to hug him, as a child and now.

It's terrifying - even with what Martin is now, it's terrifying. He still shivers after the end. He knew that Jon was phobic of spiders, of course, but he never knew why. It's not like people need reasons for their phobias...

He thinks again about one of their first encounters, when he had just learned how many spiders were in the sky at all times and tried to explain Jon how awesome it was. No wonder he was mad at him. No wonder he is mad at him now. Martin wonders once again why Jon started dating him in the first place.

Why would he send Martin this? As an apology, or an excuse, or... if it's to get closer, it's far too late.

Looking for an explanation, he opens the notebook. He looks for a piece of paper, or something on the first or the last page. There's no message for him here either.

But the first page is titled Things I know about myself and Martin wants to see what's inside.

On the first double page, on the left, Martin reads the words: I love tea. I don't care for coffee or alcohol. It's prettily written, in elegant cursive.

And in small, almost illegible notes, on the right page, Jon has written I miss Martin's tea. Then in even smaller letters, I miss Martin.

It was before, Martin thinks. But it still pierces his heart. The content - and also, how all of this is Jon, be it the beautiful writing or the scribbling.

Martin shouldn't read what comes after. He does it anyway.

I don't want the Watcher's Crown to happen. I don't want to destroy the world.

In the notes, Jon wrote: I don't know if it's safe, writing this. I tried to avoid mentioning it on tape, to stay neutral about why I wanted to learn about the rituals. But I need to remember that I didn't want it.

Then, another note of the note. Elias, you're probably seeing this.

And then it keeps going, and Martin understands quite well what it comes from. Jon panicking about something, someone, reaching for his mind and changing things there.

I won't compel one of my friends on purpose and without their consent. The notes here are bitter. Of course I did it to Tim. It saved the world and it killed him. I don't want it to happen again.

Martin learns that Jon wants to keep thinking that the Eye is not a God, just a fear like the others. He learns that he tried not to consume a statement for ten whole days, and he managed, even if it was hard at the end. He learns that Jon didn't want to take a live statement, wanted to try to let the person write it. But a full half-page of notes explains that he didn't follow this promise to himself. He thought he would die soon, but he finds it a weak justification. As he writes, he can't deny now the Eye makes him something else.

I've changed. Helen was right.

Once again, Martin wants to hug him, to never let him go. It would be bad. Martin is actually afraid of what he could do to bring solace to Jon, so it's... it's better if it's finished between them.

It's not better.

And then Jon's notebook starts talking about Martin.

I won't have sex with Martin. it says, and it's too clear, why he put this on paper. He feared Martin would...

Well, if he knew what happened with Peter - if he could guess that would happen to Elias - it's not really surprising, but it still hurts.

It feels like Jon tested him. He promised himself not to do small things, some of them he told Martin - not going to the cinema, for example - some of them he didn't - not to text on the first week-end.

This one has long notes again. I wrote a dozen texts but I sent none of them. I think the Web doesn't work like that, though. It makes you do things, and rationalize them later. Not just want things. I think. It's probably just me. I wanted to talk. I was a bit of an ass on Friday, but I needed to see if I could leave.

Then in smaller characters. I think Martin is okay. I'm just getting paranoid again.

At this point, Martin is crying at his kitchen table, and the next page gets too blurry for him to read more.

Chapter Text

Martin wonders how something like hunting petty criminals to torture them horribly can turn into routine so fast. But it seems he's getting here.

Elwyn is helping so much now. Getting the hardest part of it, really. By the time most people see a dog-sized spider making a ten-meter jump to block their exit, they're so panicked that Martin can just pluck them like ripe fruits.

He still can't get a confession out of them to know what they actually deserve. That is - that is the Eye's domain. Jon offered, once, to work together, to give him... he doesn't want to think about what could have been again.

Martin thought about it, reading Jon's notebook. It seems hard for Jon to resist his monster nature - so maybe when he fully understood Martin's confession, he was not actually judging him. Maybe even he was not fearing him - no, he was, he was so supportive only because he never wanted Martin to get hungry in his presence.

Martin wishes he could stop thinking about him. Even half a minute. Now, hunting for his God, seems a good moment to feel a real connection to something else, something more important than Jon. And Martin still can't do it.

The less he thinks about the last time they saw each other, the more he thinks about the next time they will see each other, so he can't really congratulate himself; and then Sunday evening comes.

Martin falls asleep surprisingly easily. He is exhausted.

In his dream, Jon is wrapped in a shroud of spider silk. Martin is screaming and trying to get him free. He manages to unwrap the webs like a birthday gift, and then Jon is there, breathless and wide-eyed. He nestles in Martin's arms without hesitation, rubbing their bodies together, and begs Martin to take him back, to kiss him...

Martin wakes up sad and embarrassingly hard. He thinks he likes the nightmares better. At least then he's relieved when the world reveals that it was never true.

He takes the tape and the notebook in his bag. Then he takes another big bag just for Elwyn.

"What about going really secret this time," he asks. "You fed well yesterday, didn't you?"

It's not guilt, not economy either. Martin is not sure why he wants to hide it today. Maybe just trying different things.

When he arrives, of course, Jon is already here. Martin wonders: if he didn't dream about Jane, does it mean that Jon wasn't sleeping all this time? Or was he just watching the nightmares of other people? Is he already thinking about checking Jon's sleeping patterns? This is probably wrong. Also, should he enter his office to say hello?

"Martin," Jon calls from inside. Martin is almost sure Jon couldn't see him with his human eyes. It makes him feel embarrassed, but in a good way.

The voice is too cold, though. Maybe after a breakup that's normal. Martin doesn't want to be cold. He wishes they could be friends. Or at least pretend to be.

"Hello Jon," he answers sheepishly, opening the office door.

"Where are my notebook and my tape?" Jon asks briskly.

"In my bag," Martin answers.

"Christ, Martin, what got into you?"

Martin stays shocked for a few seconds. And then, he doesn't even ask a question, because it was obvious.

"You didn't send them to me."

Of course. Would Jon have ever left him some tapes without a personal word? Probably, but would he have broken into his flat? How could Martin even believe it? The power of wishful thinking...

"No, unless your spiders erased my memories of it. I just found the drawer where I keep them full of spider webs."

"I thought..." Martin can disclose how stupid he was, it's not if he had any dignity to maintain. "I thought you wanted me to know. I'm sorry, I didn't think at all."

Jon looks at him weirdly.

"You mean you didn't send your spiders for it?"

Martin can feel it, the tug of compulsion. He doesn't even try to resist.

"No! I don't control them, Jon!"

"They're controlling you," Jon answers, matter of fact.

Martin is blushing in shame and anger. "Not that I know of! But that's not what I meant. I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have violated your privacy this way. I didn't know and I should have known! I feel really stupid, and - what do you want from me now?"

"You really thought I sent them?" Jon asks almost softly.

"Yes!" Martin cries out in embarrassment. "I thought you wanted... me... to understand you."

"Maybe I don't mind." Jon sits back, laughs nervously. "I do kind of follow a God of violating people's privacy. Maybe I forgot I should mind you knowing all this. So, what did you learn about it?"

"You say you wouldn't call the Eye a God." Martin says, waving at the notebook he put on Jon's desk.

"I was joking," Jon answers, in a tired voice. "I hope."

"I... I learned that you were fighting." Martin answers. "I don't know why I thought you had it all figured out. I thought I was the one fearing my powers and not understanding a thing."

"It means I'm faking it well, I guess." Jon answers.

"I'm sorry for every time I talked casually to you about spiders before... well, before the Archives."

"It's nothing, I shouldn't have held a grudge about it for so long."

Martin is grateful, so he won't say what he's thinking about. Wondering why the spiders did this. Wondering how they did this. Did they carry a notebook and a tape recorder on their backs, like ants? Did they swing them from ceilings with silk threads like reverse Spider-man?

"I can see what you're thinking about, Martin."

"Sorry!"

"No, it's not your fault. I'm glad you didn't steal my things... on purpose, glad I can have them back. It's important to me. And well, I have not been respecting your secrets very well either."

"You did, though? I mean, you asked me questions, but never when I minded."

Martin is getting nervous. Jon is being too nice. Is it because he used his powers in anger, and he fears Martin will do the same if he corners him? It’s a possibility, and he fears he can never again trust Jon being genuinely nice to him.

"It's not only that. Sometimes I know things. You know." He takes a deep breath. "I know what you're doing with Elias."

"Oh."

Martin feels shame freezing his bones. He has to be honest, it's not actual guilt. It's just that Jon was never meant to know, never meant to judge him for this.

He remembers in Jon's notebook. How Jon tried to convince himself that Elias deserved to suffer, wondered if his hesitations about it were because Elias was still a human being or because the Eye bound them together.

He shouldn't have read this. He still did. He wonders if, keeping everyone in proportion, Jon feels the same when using his powers.

"You are scary, with him," Jon says, when it's clear Martin won't comment further. "I didn't try to watch, but I didn't try to stop knowing either."

Martin isn't sure how he's meant to feel about this. He likes "scary" better than "repulsive", certainly.

"Do you intend to keep doing it?" Jon asks.

"I..." Martin doesn't know what to say. "Are you talking about the torture, or..." He can't say it. He's almost glad Jon learned it this way, rather than wondering, or worse, having Elias tell him. Martin clearly would never have told. "It's what I planned to do, yes. Unless you don't want me to?"

"I'm trying not to get protective with Elias..." Jon sighs. "I can give you no rational argument why it would be worse than... whatever you would do with anyone else." He sighs again. "I don't like it at all. But I know what being a monster is. Sometimes I don't like what I'm doing either. You know this."

Jon looks at Martin with resignation, and his words are of fellowship. Martin shouldn't think too much about it. He shouldn't wonder what would happen if he tried to kiss Jon right now. He's the one who ended it. He can't try again, not knowing that Jon thinks about a giant monster spider every time they lie together.

He should feel happy that Jon wanted him enough to try anyway.

He wonders, could he make the fear go away? It seems an absurd use of mind control powers that are designed to do exactly the reverse...

And he shocks himself, realizing this objection comes before how wrong it would be.

"I have paperwork to do!" he lies. "I'm glad you have your things! Call me on the phone if you need me for an investigation or anything."

And he goes up to Elias' office, too fast.

"Hello, Martin!" He should have predicted the mockery. He's in a bad position for it. "Thank you for this pleasant week-end. I was able to put the Institute paperwork back together. I don't know if it's mostly Peter's fault or yours - you're both bad - but I had to overwork myself to make it decent again. So many missed phone calls. You're bad with a phone, aren't you?"

"I should be satisfied, I guess," Martin answers. "So, get on your knees. It's time to rest your brain, and you'll make a good footstool for me."

Elias has to obey, like the puppet he is. Martin is looking at his work, checking for malicious errors.

"When will you find something more original to make me do?" Elias asks.

"When it stops hurting you." Martin answers.

"Too bad for you Tim has died. He'd surely be more creative. Are you planning to fuck me again while fantasizing you're with Jon? You could enjoy it, and you'll never have more."

Elwyn starts to suck blood through Elias's trousers, making a hole in them. Martin smiles at it fondly. Elias feels too dignified to protest, but as he's losing blood, his face is becoming white and there are tears in the corner of his eyes. It hurts. Martin has asked Elwyn to make it hurt. But he doesn't feel like doing more right now.

He gets out for some food when lunch hour comes. There's no one in the break room and it's weird.

When he comes back to Elias' office, Elias and, even worse, Elwyn have disappeared. He almost runs to the Archives. All of the building is empty.

He can’t understand how he didn’t feel it before, the blinding, chilling beat of loneliness in his veins.

"Peter," he says to the thin air, "I'm going to kill you."

Chapter Text

Martin closes his eyes and tries out his threads. They're still here, but he can't pull or push, can't make any signal go through, like he was trying to vibrate a string someone had fixed in the middle. Even if it could pass, it would be too muffled to do anything, except maybe signal his presence, if someone was paying close attention.

Jon, he thinks first. He should reach Jon, who would know something is wrong at least. But he knows he hates the spider webs. Elias and Peter are his enemies and he’s too weak to fight both of them right now. He's not even sure he can reach Melanie and the others.

The loneliness seeps into him like cold there's no coat for. Or maybe there would be, for some other people, who have family, friends, love, but Martin has none of these.

But he has a God, and he calls to Elwyn. Even this is hard. He can't communicate on his silk threads - but he can follow them.

He walks in the empty corridors, and the time seems very long. But at least he's not lost. He's still connected.

When Elwyn sees him, it jumps in his arms, touching his face with its long forelegs. Martin hugs it, while assessing the situation.

He's not technically alone. But it didn't guide him out of the Lonely dimension. Not only are the Institute corridors still empty, but when he looks through the window, there's no one in sight.

"Did he send you here too?" he asks. "I hope I didn't lure you into the trap with me!"

For the first time, he's frustrated that Elwyn can not answer him with words. And then he berates himself for thinking it, because pets are good, pets will love you and talking to them is enough. He doesn't need Elwyn to be more than this. Although right now, he feels like he does.

"Hey, do you understand me, sweetie?" he asks. "If you were wandering these empty Institute before we found each other, then wave a foreleg. Otherwise, a hind one."

Elwyn waves its left foreleg, and Martin feels better. Of course, if Peter came here to rescue Elias, he had to get rid of the guarding spider - Martin should feel relieved no weapons were involved. Then he wonders if they're the only ones.

Would Jon have tried to intervene, if he Saw that Peter would take Elias? Martin tries to reassure himself. No, Jon doesn't care about what happens to Elias, he said so himself!

But Jon never misses an opportunity to put himself in danger...

Martin feels panic. If Jon is here, Martin must find him while he is too. He knows how to navigate this world, and what it looks like, because Peter Lukas taught him. He hates this, but he doesn't imagine the worst - well, no more than usual. Even though he rejected the Lonely, he's not totally lost as long as he has the threads. But Jon... will Jon's power help him here? Will it allow him to find people, to find the outside world? Yes, probably! They're still in the Beholding's place of power, and Elias wouldn't want to lose him... would he?

Martin lets a deep breath out. He can't know this. He will follow Jon's thread and find him. He can fix this. If Jon is here, he will get him out, and if Jon is not here, it's a guideline towards the normal world.

The thread between them is thick but so strained, and Martin barely dares to feel it, like it could break at any moment. He follows it without touching, just looking at it softly.

And then he feels another thread, leading in another direction, that he doesn't recognize. How is it possible, to be connected to another person you don't even know? It feels like fear, like the way his victims are terrified of him - except he's usually the one to create the threads then.

He’s really curious, because it doesn’t happen - people don’t form bonds with Martin, they just like him enough, and then forget about him once they stop seeing him often. He’s not the one who forgets. It’s hard, to like being with people and still not have friends.

It feels nearby. He won't lose much time. Could it be one of the researchers Peter vanished? Martin never got the right to visit them, of course, but he saw them from afar. After a while, they disappear. Martin feared loneliness had vanquished them. Or worse. It's hard to live like this.

He follows the thread and confirms that it's a man-shaped figure whom he’s never seen before.

The man screams at the sight of him, and Martin is confused for a moment, before remembering he's still cradling a giant spider in his arms.

"Oh! The spider is nice!" he tries to say. It probably counts as a lie, because Martin has to physically restrain Elwyn to prevent it feeding on blood. This man really fears spiders, and it's like catnip for it. Spidernip. "Well, what are you doing here? Is it Peter?"

"Yes... I think? He said... but I can't know! I don't know what he is, he's not normal," the guy answers, "How did you find me? I don't know what you are," and he starts crying. Martin feels sorry for him.

"How long have you been here?" he asks. "Don't you want to get out?"

The man seems to hesitate. It's the first weird thing. In Martin's short experience, people here long for human contact so much that they would beg.

"Not with spiders!" the man answers, between screaming and tears. "Not with you!" And he runs away.

Martin lets him.

He feels a bit bitter about it. He could have forced him to follow him. Clearly this man has been here for too long and can't think straight. Martin would have done something good, saved him, and he would have fed, and letting him go was incredibly stupid, a reflex of politeness that will get no one anywhere.

But he won't lose time and find him again. He wants to find Jon. He hates being alone, he hates being alone here. He hates that no one cares about him. Even Elwyn feels a bit annoyed with him now as it walks at Martin's heel. He can tell. He starts running, not too fast though - he's not the athletic type, and he still needs to follow the thread.

Finally - finally - he sees him. He would have missed him without the threads, lost in the fog as they are, but then he sees him, and he recognizes him, and...

"Jon!" he calls.

Despite the fog, he can see Jon turn over, look at him with cautious hope. He can even feel Jon look at him to check he's real, and walking to him as Martin is always running, and jumping backwards. Martin feels hurt for a while, before remembering.

"It's the giant spider, isn't it?" Again.

Jon nods. Martin sighs, the same as he did when Jon was hating on normal-sized spiders. He creates a silk leash for Elwyn and asks it to wait in the fog. Jon is still nervous, and excited, and Martin feels like he is feverish. Without thinking, he touches his forehead, and it's far too hot. His hair is sweaty, where it’s not immaterial like the white fog around them.

Also, when Martin touches him, Jon lets out a moan. Martin shivers in embarrassment - it certainly shouldn't sound so appealing - and removes his hand. Jon takes it into both of his and doesn't let go.

"What happened?" Martin asks.

"I didn't notice at first, could you believe it?" Jon answers with a bitter laugh. "But then I wondered absently where Basira had gone... and I knew. I tried to... I tried to use my powers to Know the way out. And the fog entered my head. I understood it. It's all... the Eye could reach me but it was so warped, and it only made me know about all the people who never actually cared about me, and... I thought I knew, you know. But it's not the same to actually feel it."

Martin grinds his teeth. He remembers too well how it was, knowing just for his mother. He wonders if Elias had a hand in it. Especially if Jon didn't try to stop Peter and was trapped here anyway.

"I care about you," he answers, knowing it won't be enough. "A lot."

"I know," Jon answers. "I didn't see anything about... But you were here. I also saw people I should have cared about, and didn't."

"Oh." Martin feels very warm, but also very embarrassed. "Oh."

"I thought I would never see you again," Jon continues. His hands are squeezing Martin's hand so hard it hurts. "I thought I would never touch you again. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," Martin says. Being here with Jon, being in a place of pure loneliness but with him - it overwhelms him with emotion, makes him feel alternate rushes of happiness and sadness. It's exhausting, but the relief each time Jon talks - it's worth it.

"I actually love being touched," Jon whispers, like they were not alone here. "It's just... I'm bad at this, and it turns sexual so easily, and..."

Martin isn't sure whether it's true, or whether Jon is swayed by the Lonely, but he still makes a small noise in his throat, and asks "Can I hug you?"

"Please!" Jon asks. Then he remembers he must let go of Martin's hand for this. Reluctantly, he opens his hands, and Martin holds him, tries to wordlessly make him feel all his love. Jon is so small inside his arms, so angular, so cold. Martin wants to give him all of his warmth, he wants to give him everything...

And they're still not out of Peter's prison, because even like this, he can feel terribly lonely. He doesn't know if he can touch Jon's heart. He doesn't know if it will be enough.

"I've missed this," Jon says. "Cuddling with you. It was only one time, can you believe it? I'm still thinking about it, a lot. I was so surprised when you told me you never used your powers on me, because... at first I believed you must have. It felt too good. It was not natural to me. But I'm glad."

Martin thinks not that I know at least but he doesn't want to break the moment. He was wrong. It's Jon who's pouring warmth in his veins. He knows... he knows he must say something, that they can connect, that if they do they can escape.

He wants to kiss Jon, his lips half-opened, so close to his. He knows Jon would let him right now, surrounded by the panic of loneliness. But it won't fix anything, it won't be the beginning of anything, it won't make them feel like they're not alone.

"I love you," Martin says instead. It's not enough, it was never enough. He holds Jon tight, tries not to think about never letting him go. About how Jon would be happy with him, he'd just need to vanquish the fear. "I love you and sometimes it hurts, but I never want my feelings to pass. Because you are wonderful, you are everything to me, and maybe one day I'll stop wanting you in a way you can't give. But I don’t want to live to see a day where I no longer care for you. It’s the reason I chose the spiders over the Lonely, you know."

And then - there's a huge static, and the fog is gone. They're still holding onto each other, they're at the Institute, and they're safe. Martin can see now - he thought it was the fog before, but Jon's hair has become entirely white.

Chapter Text

Martin runs up to Elias' office. There's no one there. It could be actually no one, or they could be back in the Lonely, mocking him.

He tries his threads, to Elias, to Peter, and unless they can deceive him, they're already far away. They must have taken a car. Or Martin was lost in the Lonely longer than he thinks.

He tries to send some signal for them to come back, with all his strength. But they are not here, they are probably very much less afraid of him now, and it doesn't work.

He turns around and realizes bitterly that Jon is not here. He tests the threads to him - Jon is at the Archives. It's probably normal, and Martin comes back to him. He asks Elwyn to wait outside his office.

"Everyone is okay," Jon tells him, sat on his chair. "Basira, Daisy, Melanie... It was just us."

"Thank you." Martin realizes belatedly he never worried for them, and should have. Peter never tried to hurt them, but that was only because he had Martin, and Elias did hurt them.

"We were out about half a day," Jon keeps explaining.

"Did they ask about..." Martin's hand hovers around Jon's white hair, without touching it. It looks soft.

"I told the truth," Jon answers. "Peter Lukas coming back to the Institute should be of interest to everyone."

Martin wants to touch, but doesn't dare. Doesn't even dare to ask, because they have more important things to worry about.

"Do you think Peter and Elias will act against us?" Martin asks. "Or did they just... go away?"

Elias shouldn't have been able to do that. Martin tries, obsessively, to remember all the threads he bound him with. Not try to get away, not try to hurt his employees, guarantee the good work of the Institute. Of course it could have included phone the sponsors, Martin should have thought about it! But he wasn't allowed to tell anyone what had happened - but Peter knew he should be in prison...

If Martin gets to Elias again, he won't even let him open his mouth without his authorization - and Martin feels the need for revenge, for control, surge inside of him.

And if he reaches Peter again...

"They're already at the Lukas mansion," Jon answers, eyes open into a world of knowledge. "I don't see any way we could carry out an attack on it." He sighs deeply. "Seems that we've lost Elias."

Martin feels cold all of a sudden. He was furious and frustrated, but he didn't wonder how he would feed now.

"I will kill Peter," Martin says. "I let him go. I didn't want to alienate his family, but now that it's done, I will get to him again and make him..." He stops. He remembers he didn't want Jon to see him this way. It's probably too late.

Jon sighs. "I should have talked to Elias sooner. I should have asked you if you minded."

"What? You didn't need to ask! Did you think I would refuse it?"

"I thought, maybe you wouldn't want Elias to tell me what you did to him?"

Martin winces. "I didn't. But I would have let you. You already knew anyway."

"Not the details, and not... how he lived them," Jon answers in a small voice, and Martin wants to hug him right now. Jon - he's deadly afraid of him, and he still wants not to be even more disgusted, and...

Maybe a hug is not the right idea, but Martin's heart still soars.

"It's not the only reason I postponed it," Jon keeps going. "I was not sure I could overpower him. I needed the full truth about the Watcher's Crown. And now... I hope I can get it another way, before it's too late."

"What do you mean, too late?"

"Martin! Don't pretend. I know you have your own monstrous urges. You've read my notes! I'm becoming... something else. You know I no longer trust my own will sometimes."

He pauses. Martin can't say anything.

"Also, I think the scars are important," Jon keeps going. "The scars I got from all the entities," he gestures to his hair. "It's the last one. Every power has had its claws on me. You stopped the Extinction before it could start, so I have all the fourteen."

He pauses. "Yes, you can touch my hair."

Martin blushes hard, but won't let the opportunity pass. He slides his fingers though Jon's white hair...

He blushes again, remembering that Jon said he loved to be touched. Massages the scalp, tries to make it good. They both need the comfort right now. Peter's attack was bad. Martin doesn't want to think about what happens later. About what happens when he gets hungry...

"I think you were meant to be my scar from the Lonely." Martin understands and shivers. It's a horrific idea, but it makes him feel better about his choices. He didn't want to be a weapon to hurt Jon - but it shouldn't give him such ambiguous, almost warm feelings, to know he could have.

Jon keeps talking. "Then when that plan collapsed, they found an alternate one. Elias must have planned it beforehand, found a way to give a signal."

"He shouldn't have been able to hurt you or me!" Martin protests.

"Maybe he doesn't count this as hurt. Maybe he's that far gone. He's Peter's friend, after all."

Martin still feels like a failure - be it because he restrained Elias wrong, or because Elias was able to cut the threads. Or because it's possible all of this was, in the end, never about him.

He stops stroking Jon's hair. Maybe it's gone on a bit too long, it gets creepy. They're not together any longer and Martin is the one who stopped it.

"I felt you, looking for me," Jon said. "When I was lost. I knew there were webs, and I still didn't hate it. I knew it was you. I was connected. And I hated that I didn't hate it."

"It's... good, if you can feel it?" Martin tries. "You could feel it if I tried anything against you?"

"Are you sure you couldn't make it unnoticed?" Jon asks. Martin feels the compulsion open his heart; it's painful and he relishes it.

"I have no idea how I would do it," Martin answers. "But I can make it sweet, or make it painful, so I could make it unnoticeable? I guess, with training."

It's not what he wanted to answer, but it's the full truth. Jon seems surprised about it. Martin wonders if he sometimes tried to make his compulsion feel good, or bad, or unnoticed. Why would he have tried?

"Your lighter," Martin says again. "It's Web, I think. But you never notice it."

"By the way," Jon answers. "Are you still doing your... superhero thing?"

Martin doesn't know what to do. Should he insist on the lighter again? Would it make his own case worse? Should he be jealous? Or would Jon react even more to him without it? He wants to insist, and he's terrified of it.

"Oh yes. I will need to do more of it I guess."

There's no compulsion this time. Martin doesn't need to admit he needs this so he doesn't get feral, so he doesn't get too badly tempted to use his powers on Jon. They both know it anyway.

"I respect your choice of going after... bad people. Though you know some others would consider you bad because of it, right?"

"I'm not stupid. Yes, the Hunt is probably after me, if they know."

"This is a list for you," Jon says. And gives him a list with five hastily written names.

"What?"

"Bad people. Humans. From statements. Unofficial statements, that I took... as I told you, I have my own urges. But they can't be linked to the Institute. Sometimes they're the statement giver, sometimes not. I can tell you what they did, if you want. I probably should."

"What? Jon, what are you doing?"

"I want to help?"

"Are you afraid I'll get hungry?"

Jon's voice sounds very annoyed now. "Yes. But I also want to help."

Martin feels almost desperate. The way Jon can make him fall for him, again and again, it's not fair.

"Do you want to talk about... your monster urges?" He asks very softly.

Jon laughs. It's not a good laugh. "I thought you'd never ask."

Chapter Text

Martin's mouth runs dry. "I just wasn’t sure you wanted me to know..." He feels awkward and inadequate.

"It's not that I want it," Jon answers. "But I fear I need it, and you'll have to be the one to listen to it. Are you ready, Martin? To see me knocked off the pedestal you put me on?"

There's compulsion in his voice. Martin can only answer. "I don't want that. But I don't think it's possible, either. And I want to know you, to understand you, and to help you."

"You feel it when I'm compelling you, right?"

"Yes! I don't mind. I don't really want to lie to you, I'm just too afraid or embarrassed sometimes." Jon hasn't compelled him this time, so Martin won't say how good it feels.

"I feel so good when I do it. But especially on you, now. Because you're from the Web, and it's like overthrowing the power it has over me."

"Is this... is this what you were afraid to tell me? Because I can understand. You can ask me anything, though, whenever you want. I don't..."

He doesn't finish his sentence.

"Don't what?"

"I don't want you to think I'm hiding awful things from you!" Martin answers. "Also, it reminds me of when I was your assistant and I was yours and you screamed at me instead of fearing me! Being forced into things is part of what we are, and being forced by you has always been one of my fantasies..."

Martin manages to stop, stammering. He was sincere - of course he was - but it's still so embarrassing to say all this, to admit it to himself, exhilarating though it may be.

He wants Jon to keep doing it to him, forever.

But Jon just coughs nervously and keeps going; Martin promised to listen and that's fair.

"Also - but you know this - I've been taking statements out of people." Martin, at this moment, feels like he knows Jon, that Jon thought he wouldn't even go there, that Martin would have left before. "Without their consent. They still live their trauma in nightmares, but... it's a hunger. I can't stop it. Gertrude's old statements do nothing. They keep me alive, but they do nothing for the hunger."

"You know I can only understand, Jon." It’s the reason Jon is talking to him, of course. He knows the others were less sympathetic.

"Yes. Yes, of course. But still, I need to ask... Have you already thought about killing yourself?"

"Jon, I... please don't!"

There was no compulsion in Jon's words, so Martin doesn't need to talk about his life before he found a job at the Institute, when bills piled up and his mother had stopped talking to him except in harsh words. He understands what Jon means. Certainly not since he's been one of the spiders, and his feelings are not the subject.

"Don't worry," Jon continues, bitter. "I don't seem to be able to. I can't even cut my own fingers." Martin is stunned, but hasn't the time to ask before Jon explains. "I keep getting into situations that could kill me." I noticed, Martin would say, if the situation was not so awful. "I don't want to die. But I don't want to destroy the world." He laughs bitterly. “Dying so you won’t see the result of your actions might be cowardly, but dying so you won’t act? So the nightmare will end for so many people? That seems justifiable to me.”

"How strong is the hunger? For the Watcher's Crown?" Martin wants to believe they’ll find a way to solve this, a way where no one dies and no ritual comes to completion.

"It's not... it's not that I want to do it. It's just that I need to know what it does, and if I could have forced Elias to tell me, maybe it would have been better. But if he had been able to stop at telling me how to do it, without telling me the results..." He swallows. "It's getting worse. I have all the scars. I feel like I was born for this."

"You weren't!" Martin answers with an energy that surprises him. "You weren't, I mean, I could accept the Eye was what you were meant to be, I've... felt it too. Maybe you could have been better if you had stayed human, or maybe not, maybe you would have been eaten by something, I don't know. But I know that what's happening now - it's all Elias' doing. He appointed you as the Archivist. He's playing with your mind. Not everyone who serves the Eye wants to end the world, I mean..."

(Martin wants to destroy Elias even more.)

Jon almost smiles.

"I think you're right. Thank you, Martin. Unfortunately, it doesn't help my current predicament." He stares dreamily for a while. “Elias. He wasn’t one of the people who never cared about me, the ones in the fog.”

Martin wasn’t either, he knows this, and still feels very jealous.

“Can I do something?” he asks. He doesn’t want to talk about Elias now.

“Would you kill me?” Jon asks. “If I asked you?” The compulsion is in full force, leaves Martin trembling from need to give him everything he is.

“No! Never!”

“Do you think you’d be able to?”

“Not… I mean, not normally.” It hurts, thinking about it, but Martin has no choice but to, because he owes Jon an answer, it’s more important than anything in the world. “Maybe? I mean, I could prevent you from getting statements. If you let me. Would it kill you? Slowly? Please don’t ask me to! I won’t do it anyway! You can’t make me. But please don’t ask.”

Jon sighs, maybe in disappointment.

“Could you stop me if I started the Watcher’s Crown?”

“Maybe?” Martin answers. “If I was there? It wouldn’t be easy, though, if the Eye protected you. I don’t know if I could weave fast enough.”

“Okay,” Jon answers. His voice is both trembling and strong like steel under it, deliberate. “You can start now, then.”

“What?” Martin is not sure he heard right. Jon never wanted this. Jon wanted the opposite of this.

“You can put… I don’t know. Some kind of mental block on me? That would stop me from starting it? Do it.”

“Jon, are you serious.”

“I don’t want to destroy the world! Or rather, I want it too much, but… and you won’t kill me. Which I understand. So I don’t think I'm left with a lot of choices. I have to trust you. The feelings you have for me, or the Web’s will to stop every ritual. Do it. It’s not like my will is still mine anyway.”

“I… I will. I will try.” Martin is afraid. He should be touched by Jon’s trust, but all he feels is how much he wants to do this, take Jon in his webs and never let him go. ”You know I can’t be sure, you know I thought Elias couldn’t get away.”

Jon cuts him off. “Oh, and I’d like to ask you. You said it was possible. Make it hurt. I want to know when your power has to stop me, and I want it to hurt.”

“Jon!”

“Please. I’ll let you… if you want something for yourself, in addition, you can take it and I won’t complain even if I find out about it. I need to be hurt.”

“Jon, you don’t mean… I saw your notes, that was one of the things you feared most in the world!"

Martin could say no - he’s almost sure he loves Jon enough to still be able to choose - but he’s afraid Jon will find alternatives, ask other monsters to kill him, restrain him, hurt him.

“Am I the first one you've asked this from?”

“Yes… yes, of course!”

“Who would you ask if I said no?” To keeping him prisoner or to hurting him. It’s not clear for Martin. Maybe it is clearer for Jon.

Of course Martin has no compulsion powers, and Jon could very well lie to him. But he just lowers his head, with a bitter smile. “Helen first.”

Martin will do it. Of course he will. Possessiveness is gnawing at his insides, as he puts his hand on Jon’s hand. He doesn’t have to do this to weave his web, but he wants to. From the way Jon reacts to it, shivering like he wanted to interlace their fingers then decided against it, it will help, too.

He makes it hurt, because it’s what Jon wants, even if it turns his stomach. He can’t make it hurt himself, though. The delight of wrapping Jon in his power, in his desires - yes, of course, he doesn’t want Jon to destroy the world either. He doesn’t want the world to end in any way. And that's not about the Web not wanting this either, it’s him being human.

He weaves the most delicate spider webs for Jon’s brain, and they still hurt him, and will hurt him far worse if he tries to bypass them. Martin wonders - is Jon’s request a safeguard for him too? To stop him from going too far, too deep? Jon didn’t say anything about surrendering to the Eye in other ways. Martin doesn’t want to stop him from taking statements. He doesn’t want him to get hurt. If Jon wanted it he would have asked for it.

Also Martin will - won’t make any changes for himself, will even resist his desire to steal a kiss. If only because, if he does, he knows he won’t be able to stop ever. Maybe because he still hopes that Jon can accept him himself, despite everything.

Once it’s finished, Jon will still very much try to know what the Watcher’s Crown is and what it does. He just won’t try to do it. If Martin’s power is enough.

“Done,” Martin stammers. “Done.”

“Thank you,” Jon answers, tears in his eyes.

Martin can’t resist and hugs him hard. Jon doesn’t hug back, but he doesn’t try to stop it or go away either. He stays right here in Martin’s arms, head on his chest, motionless like a soft and yielding puppet, and finally it’s Martin who breaks it and leads Jon to his chair, with soothing words. Everything will be okay now. We will find solutions for everything. I love you, he says, because why would he pretend that the Archivist doesn’t know that? Jon squeezes his hand in answer. It’s everything and it’s not enough.

Chapter Text

Martin doesn't get back to Elias' office, not today. If one day of neglecting budgets makes the Institute crumble, then it was badly managed in the first place.

"Are you okay with a giant spider in the office?" he asks Melanie. "She's nice."

Melanie shrugs. "We've already got too many monsters here. One more won't change anything. But if it bites me, Helen will eat it and you won't get to complain."

It's the nicest thing someone has said about Elwyn yet.

He tries to work, but he can feel the threads between Jon and him, stronger than ever. He even fears they will start to hurt him too, but no, it's only his heart, still flooded with longing at every beat. He rejected the Lonely so he could hurt this way, and it's worth it, it is...

The threads to Jon feel more real to him than Melanie working in the same room. Finally, Martin stands and starts to make tea. He gives a mug to Melanie, exactly as she likes, but they both know it's empty politeness. Not that he dislikes her, he's just using her as an excuse right now.

Jon has taken a statement from the shelves when Martin enters and sets his mug on the table.

"Thank you," Jon says. "I really should record a statement. I would feel better. The Lonely - it took a toll on me."

Martin puts a hand on his shoulder - it will help, he knows it helps, with the emotional aspect at least. Jon shudders.

"But you want a new one," Martin guesses. "You want to hunt."

Jon lowers his head. "Yes."

"Please read this one?" Martin tries to argue. "It won't hurt. You can see if you need more after."

Jon takes a deep breath. "You're probably right. Please, stay here." Stop me, he doesn't say. Of course Martin won't refuse him.

Once Jon has started reading, he's as deep into the story as he ever was. Martin listens to his deep voice, enjoying a nostalgia trip. The story comes from a woman who lived next door to Agnes Montague - but oddly, the story is not about fire. It's about the woman's kid, who feared spiders, and saw a huge one walking in his room at night by the light of his night-light. He then started crying and refusing to sleep. The woman first made him sleep in the living room, then used insecticides, and as he was still seeing it and shivering in terror, she put a camera in the room.

It was not a spider. It was a human hand, not connected to any arm or body, and moving exactly as a spider would, seeming to have too many fingers. And the woman started not to be able to sleep either, and she came here...

Jon comments at the end, identifies Raymond Fielding's hand that Agnes had kept with her. The date of death had been officially the same as Agnes', but they'd never know it had been actually alive, even less that it had escaped Agnes' watch.

And of course, it might have been full of spiders and the child right after all.

At this point, they should call them to know what happened. The nightmares probably didn't stop for a long time, not if Gertrude actually read the statement.

Martin doesn't want to feel responsible if spiders took the mother or the kid, but he guesses he has to. He looks for the name, finds a few possibilities, no one matching the address given.

Calling people for followup is rarely rewarding, but calling the wrong people is more embarrassing than anything. And Martin doesn't even have to ask when he gets to the right one- he can feel the fear of spiders through the phone.

He asks as usual anyway. They finally moved soon after the fact, and it stopped. Martin lets out a relieved sigh.

It doesn't have to work, he can't stop himself thinking. I could go there. The kid is an adult now. They've been waiting for it all this time.

"Martin," Jon says, cautious and soft, "Martin, I'm sorry, but I can see what you're thinking."

"I wasn't going to do it!" Martin protests.

"Do you need help? You helped me. You're helping me right now."

Martin feels grateful. "You already gave me this list." Maybe one of them will really fear spiders, more than death, more than hell. Maybe Martin can make them feel that way, before consuming them.

Jon looks at him with fearful eyes. He can probably still see what he's thinking. Martin should ask him to compel him instead. He can live with Jon knowing and judging every little piece of his thoughts and his instincts, but doubt is worse.

"Is there something you want to say?" he asks.

Jon sighs. "Probably. Martin, I... it's stupid, I already opened my mind to you, and I mean, at this point it's worse than any playing with fire that I did..." He sighs again. "I mean, I still fear you, I won't lie. I'm amazed you don't fear me. And at the same time I’m afraid I'm taking advantage of feelings you shouldn’t have for me. But I want to be with you. I love you too much. Please, tell me what I should do to prove myself, for you to have me back."

Martin's heart is beating in his ears, so hard that he's afraid he didn't hear correctly. "Jon..." he just says. "Jon... Why did you think you had to prove yourself or..." He's already touching Jon's cheek, his neck, marvelling at the touch.

"You're the one who dumped me!"

"What?" Martin protests. He tries to remember. "I guess I did, yes, but it was because you didn't dare to tell me..."

"Maybe!" Jon shouts nervously. "Please kiss me."

It's not losing its magic, the second time, and it won't ever, Martin is sure of it. He's crying, with Jon's arms nervously gripping his shoulders, Jon's lips teasing his, before fully ravishing his mouth. Martin has the feeling Jon thought about kissing him again as much as he did, and it's wonderful.

Mine, the Web whispers again, weighing the threads Martin spun between them - the threads life spun between them. I'll never leave you again. Never leave me. You're mine and I'm yours, forever bound.

Martin sighs softly against Jon's mouth. "I love you." he says. "I want to love you forever." He'd already wanted this even when he thought Jon would never love him; it had sounded like some dark proof of devotion then, and now it's all colour and light and soft skin against his.

"I love you," Jon answers. "I want... I'm not sure. But I trust you right now, and it's wonderful."

"Ask me if you ever doubt, please," Martin whispers. "Whenever you want. It's not only for you. I need to be aware of it, to be honest about it, the ways I'm changing." He doesn't want to confess his dark, secret thoughts, but he wishes he wanted it. Jon can make him.

"OK," Jon answers, kissing his cheek. "I'll do it." But he doesn't ask, not right now.

"Are you still... you know, hungry?" Martin asks.

"Yes," Jon answers, "but I can resist it. You can stay in my office, though. Watch over me. I'd like that. Would you give me your personal insights about the statement?"

But Martin must confess he has no idea about what the Web is doing, even less about Agnes. Jon tries to hide how frustrated he is about it, and Martin just loves him even more. He wants to touch him again.

"Will you go home with me?" he asks after it's time to leave.

Jon seems to hesitate, but he finally answers no.

"Are you planning to eat someone on the way?" Martin asks.

"No!" Jon protests. Martin can't know lies from truth, of course. But it seems true. Or maybe he trusts Jon too much. Maybe it's just one of his tests, to check that Martin isn't playing with his mind. He should just ask, Martin thinks.

But that's okay. Life is being good to Martin right now, his heart dancing in the clouds. He just goes home, Elwyn in his backpack. (Terrifying people. It's their own fault. Normal spiders are nice anyway.)

When he gets home and opens the door, Elwyn runs towards something he can't see. He's curious, a bit worried, though he thinks he can take whatever wants to hurt him.

But Elwyn doesn't attack. She displays her red abdomen like in front of a partner or a friend, and Martin sees just at this moment the brown skin and yellow hair and collapsed head of Annabelle Cane.

"You've been neglecting the girl," she comments, petting Elwyn's head. “But I’m not just here to talk about proper pet care. We need to discuss your relationship with our dear Archivist."

Chapter Text

Martin is wary; he's not sure what Annabelle is to him. Mentor, sister, handler, rival? She's lying on the top of his sofa, shamelessly enjoying the comfort - also, like a spider making her nest.

"I know that you consummated your union with Jon." she continues, and Martin blushes hard in embarrassment and indignation.

"What? No! It's not even the first time we kissed..."

"You know what I mean," she interrupts him. "You hadn't shaped his mind before. Only this makes it true. None of us are human anymore, we have our rules."

Martin shivers in dread, because yes, he can understand this.

"Besides, it's your own fault you didn't fuck him," Annabelle keeps going. "He was giving you permission to take him and use him as you saw fit. In fact he was almost begging you to do it, probably as the punishment he deserves. Or maybe because the Archivist has to know everything and he's burning to have a better look at how lust works, whatever. I would say good work, except you did nothing with it."

Martin wants to protest in indignation, but Annabelle won't understand his feelings, and maybe they mean nothing except to him. Then he reacts, a bit too late, to something else.

"How do you know this? Also, wait, did you make Jon not come home with me?"

Annabelle smiles. "Yes, though I can promise not to do it again if you're so eager. And... I have my ways. I won't tell." Then her voice gets harsher. "Well, not as long as I can't be sure you're loyal to the Mother." She pets Elwyn again, who seems to enjoy it very much. Martin feels irrationally betrayed. But he has to recognize he hasn't spent a lot of time with it recently, and didn't feed it regularly.

"Would you do anything I asked if it was for the Mother?" she asks. "For a mother who actually loves you and knows better?"

"I wouldn't hurt Jon," Martin says in a small voice. He's wondering what else he wouldn't do. He can't think of anything right now.

She laughs a brief, unpleasant laugh, that makes Martin's spine go cold. It might be hiding something, or it might be pretending to hide something. He can't know.

"I mean, as long as you're protecting him, it's right with Mother. She has an interest in him. She encourages your feelings for this, and because she loves you. It's only me who thinks you should take more from him. Because there will come a time when you'll need to know that you want him safe more than you don't want to hurt his feelings, and you could do with practice. Especially when you can stop him from being upset so easily. He allowed you. Why won't you?"

Fortunately, she doesn't wait for an answer. It's a hard question, and Martin doesn't want to ask it right now.

"I won't let him die," he just says.

"Good boy," she says. She gets down from the sofa, walks too fast for Martin's eyes to follow, takes a Coke from the fridge. She still has Elwyn in her arms. "You should hunt a bit. Otherwise, I'll take your girl out for a meal."

Martin - there's no reason not to accept, really. Is he really getting jealous over a pet? Probably. Does he fear it means more about his legitimity as a Web monster? Maybe too.

"I have Jon's list," he answers.

"You're so cute together," Annabelle answers mockingly. "Maybe we'll keep your victims alive, so they can drop by the Institute after. Let's take a car."

Martin is fighting with his Spider-Man hoodie - he gets very self-conscious, in front of Annabelle, but he has a brand. "What? I don't have one. Do you want to steal a car?"

"More like stealing a chauffeur, but yes. I must explain everything to you, it seems."

She asks the first guy she meets to stop, then to take them. He accepts, pliant, eyes a bit vacant, so much that Martin is not very confident in his ability to drive.

"I do it all the time," Annabelle jokes. "The hole in the head doesn't come from this."

Martin calms himself by petting Elwyn, who at least is on his knees again. He wonders if the driver can see her. Can remember their faces. It wouldn't change anything. Except if Jon hears about it...

Annabelle is right, the driving is fluid, and as the address Jon gave is far away, Annabelle starts to chat.

"Do you know how we prevented the Watcher's Crown last time?" She talks casually, like it wasn't anything big. "Your Archivist already knows this one, I'm surprised he didn't tell you about it - or maybe he didn't understand it fully? It was a bonding spell. Agnes Montague and Gertrude Robinson - and then we had a useless fire messiah, who wanted to understand the world, and a useless Archivist, who loved to blow things up."

"Gertrude was everything but useless," Martin protests. He's not sure where this loyalty to the Archives comes from. Maybe only because Tim liked her.

"Not to humanity, and not to us! But to the Eye, certainly. There's a reason why Elias killed her before the 200 years of the Institute."

"You want me to ask about the bonding ritual," Martin points.

"Yes. And you will."

"How is it done? What does it do?"

"Here is the text I was told was given to Gertrude." She talks with such certainty that sometimes Martin forgets she hasn't been an avatar long, that she has to pick up all the elaborate plans mid-air. He doesn't like to remember this. It makes him wonder how long it will take for him. "Don't thank me too much."

"Thank you!" Martin reacts, embarrassed. He was lost in his thoughts.

"As for the exact effect it has... no one alive can tell. Agnes and Gertrude are dead, and of course all the people who previously used it. Bonding souls together - it's so vague, isn't it? But it's deeper even than our usual threads, though not stronger, and mutual, and - I certainly wouldn't let anyone do this to me."

And she looks at Martin with a provoking look, waiting for him to say he wouldn't mind, not with Jon. He doesn't. Maybe she was just waiting for him to think it.

Finally they get to the address Jon gave, and Martin gets out. His legs are a bit wobbly. He's embarrassed in front of Annabelle. Again.

"After you." she says. "He's yours. I can keep busy with our chauffeur in the meantime."

It's the first time Martin's visited one of his victims in their house, and he's not sure about it. About how to place the first thread. What to do if they won't answer. What Annabelle will think of him. Having her here, but not helping, is maybe the worst combination.

Martin rings the intercom. A male voice answers him.

"Nicholas Mannings. You killed three people. I'm coming for you. Open the door."

He feels the fear; it's so intense that he's sure it's the right person. But the thread it creates is not thick enough. The man hangs up and the door stays closed.

Well, the window, then. A memory catches Martin by surprise - when he first started to break into people's houses, for Jon's sake. But it's so much easier now that he can prevent anyone from stopping him, now that he has a giant spider who will weave him a ladder, now that he doesn't care about who he inconveniences any more than he cares about the law.

It's a bit dangerous at the beginning; there's a gun firing at shadows. But soon, as Martin can drink a bit more delicious fear, he takes control, and the man drops his weapon, and kneels, and begs for a mercy he won't get.

And another he will. For now. Martin doesn't plan to kill him tonight. But Elwyn drinks and drinks, her abdomen reddish-black, and she dances around Martin to show how happy she is. It's the best meal she's ever had.

Martin feels his heart swell. He should have done it before. Sometimes it's like Elwyn is the Web he must feed, and it was just delivered to him in a form he could care for and be affectionate to and - yes, love.

He's a monster, and he doesn't care. He draw lines for himself. He doesn't want to cross them. But he doesn't want to feel bad if he stays inside them - otherwise they're useless. He knew he would change.

"It's not over." he promises, both to the man and the spider. He leaves enough threads between them to be sure the man won't leave, will open his door to him next time. Won't try to harm them anymore. Won't kill himself. He can't allow this.

He thinks about it, making him go to the Institute to talk about him. But he'd rather ask Jon first. He thinks so. He doesn't think it's because he doesn't want to share.

He's still in the stairs when he feels the threads from Jon. They're vibrating at a stressful rhythm. Something bad happened. He wouldn't know, he doesn't have Eye powers. Something bad happened and it's Martin's powers, hurting Jon. But that's stupid, he wouldn't...

He runs down the stairs. Annabelle is still here, as is the poor driver, trying to scream. He orders him to get to Jon's house immediately.

"I was afraid this would happen," Annabelle says. She sounds mostly condescending, maybe a bit sympathetic?

"What did happen?"

"Your power over him was set up, wasn't it? It's dangerous to make him act against his nature long term."

"But he's not... He's not preparing the Watcher's Crown now!"

"His ritual has been in preparation since your Institute was created."

"But not on purpose!"

"He's not exactly the same person when he sleeps, don't you think?"

"I have no idea about that!" Martin answers, angry and frustrated. But he remembers Jon watching his Jane Prentiss nightmare with his cold expression, and maybe he knows too well.

The driver is going far too fast; maybe Martin took over a bit. He runs to Jon's door as soon as they arrive.

"Please! Please open, Jon, it's me!" He's already thinking about forcing him, if Jon doesn't get in right now. But he does, wincing in pain, before slowly falling on his side.

"I can't sleep, Martin. I'm... what happens while I'm sleeping? I thought I remembered!"

"I'm so sorry," Martin says, as he sits and takes Jon's head on his lap. "I thought it would work. I thought it would be okay. Let me fix it."

Martin undoes, thread by thread, the bindings he put on Jon's mind. He feels Jon getting better. He feels himself getting wrong, weaker, but he keeps going.

"Thank you," Jon says. He sighs deeply and leans his head against Martin's chest.

Cutting these threads - it’s like losing Jon again. Not by any human definition, but it doesn't make this any less wrenching. Martin wants to beg Jon to let him leave a mark in here, any mark. He doesn't want to look that desperate, but he fears Jon saying no even more.

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry you were hurt," Martin whispers. He pets Jon's soft white hair, and they stay there for a long time. If Jon doesn't want to leave, it's wonderful enough that Martin won't interrupt this moment. He wants this. He wants him.

Finally, Jon breaks the silence. "Will I be able to sleep now?"

"Yes, of course!" Martin answers. He realizes only now that Jon is in his pyjamas, and blushes. "I mean, I hope, it should no longer be painful."

"Were you awake at one in the morning?" Jon asks. Martin wonders if Jon had only just gone to sleep, or if he tossed and turned so long.

"Yes." Martin feels awkward. "Hunting."

"Does that mean you brought your... no, you don't have to answer that one. Martin, your spider is making a nest in my dirty laundry!"

"Sorry. I mean, you had to wash it anyway? I will take Elwyn and leave." Martin would like to see this actually. It sounds cute. He's also worried about how much dirty laundry Jon has. At home, Elwyn likes to play with Martin's old socks, but she doesn't make nests.

"I'd like for it not to be here, certainly!"

"I said I would..."

"But I don't want you to leave." Jon looks down, stutters. "I'd like you to stay the night."

"Oh." Martin blushes. "I'm sorry, I fear we're a package, these days."

"Unfortunately," Jon grumbles. He looks very tired. "Well, if it doesn't move and I don't have to see it with my own eyes, I would be glad to have you here."

Martin blushes again. "I would be glad to stay."

"Let's go to bed, then," Jon says. Martin feels a bit lightheaded. It sounds so obvious to Jon, and he's not ready. He hasn't any pyjamas, and certainly won't fit in Jon's. But he's not sure he wants to explain all this in words.

Jon's bed is big for one person and small for two. Martin quickly removes his hoodie. Jon is already in bed, lying down on the left side, leaving a place for him.

"Can I remove my trousers and shirt?" he asks.

"Sure. We're not in the Institute. Though I should warn you my plans are sleep and only sleep. If I can manage that. I will try to determine what in these dreams is advancing the Watcher's Crown."

There's some exhilaration in his voice, and Martin has to remind himself Jon doesn't want to actually make the Watcher's Crown happen. He just wants to know.

Martin eases into the right side of the bed. He doesn't want to sleep at all. He needs it; he works tomorrow, but Jon's presence is making his skin burn with need. He will take his hand and kiss it, he decides.

And then Jon rolls over and tucks himself into Martin's arms.

Martin can't breathe. He holds Jon hard, then exhales at last into his neck. All of this seems so natural to Jon, and Martin has to hold back a surge of jealousy, when he remembers that Jon has not only dated but already lived with someone he used to love. But that's so stupid, when he has Jon in his arms now, he can kiss his cheek as their bodies fit together, Jon so small in his arms.

"Can you sleep like this?" he asks.

"I think so," Jon answers, voice already heavy with sleep. He sounds so vulnerable this way. Martin feels like he's falling in love again. "Can you?"

"I will!" Martin promises. But not for a long time, he thinks to himself. He wants to enjoy every second of this.

Jon's warm body against his. Jon trusting him so completely. Martin tries not to think about wrapping him in a silk cocoon, and fails. Fortunately, it's just a fantasy. It's not something he actually needs. He has everything he wished for. Jon isn't going anywhere.

(Except that Martin is watching him drift into a world of dark nightmares where his God rules. It's different. It's not for Martin to talk anyway. Not about this.)

In the morning, he isn't sure he has actually slept, except he remembers scraps of his Jane Prentiss and Peter Lukas nightmares when the alarm rings. Jon is still sleeping, his body motionless, his breathing quick. He doesn't seem to have heard his clock - Martin can't believe Jon has an actual alarm clock.

He wants to make something special, so before waking Jon up, he regretfully slips from under Jon, extracts himself from the bed, and goes to make breakfast. Except that he can't find any breakfast food in the kitchen, so he just makes tea. He wonders if he should wake up Jon - but the alarm clock was there for a reason and the tea is already starting to get cold.

He wants to reach into Jon's mind, to wake him up that way; his mouth is already watering. But Jon didn't allow this, Annabelle was lying. So he just nudges his shoulder softly.

Jon has a moment of panic, but he relaxes as he recognizes Martin.

"I made tea!" Martin explains while gesturing. Jon smiles at him. It's good, but Martin hates having to remind himself that it's even better than making Jon smile at him. He wanted to make him happy, and he thought he had the chance to help at least a bit...

Jon doesn't take Martin's offer to go buy some food, though he agrees on them raiding a bakery later.

They're still drinking when Martin blurts out. "What happened between Agnes and Gertrude, exactly?"

"They... the spiders established some kind of mystical link between them, I think... I don't have the exact knowledge, like with most spider things..." And Jon hates not knowing, this is obvious.

"Did it prevent Gertrude from enacting the Watcher's Crown?" Martin asks hopefully.

"It's a possibility. Agnes was the main target, but..." Jon stands up abruptly and leans towards Martin. It makes him shiver. "Martin, you have no idea how much I want to ask for all your story of how you heard about this."

"Do it," Martin says, in a strangled voice. He's shivering in anticipation.

"You're not helping."

"I mean it. Do it on someone who consents, it changes everything. I mean, I already have... nightmares with you, you know, and these ones will be less harsh to me. I'm the monster in it."

Jon keeps silent.

"Did someone already consent to be used by you? Knowing what would happen?" Martin asks again.

"Not really the point."

"Because I would. I am. I want to help you. I love being needed."

"I know, and it frightens me."

"For me?"

"Yes! But also, I don't want to need you more than I already..." He coughs, and steps back. "So I can ask?"

This already is compulsion; Martin feels wonderful. "Yes. Do it."

"How did you learn about this ritual?"

Martin explains how, coming back home, he found the spider creature who recruited him in the first place. He doesn't want to report what she said about Jon; he does it anyway. He describes how he went hunting, hoping that Jon will understand. He repeats all that she said, his memory made bright by Jon's powers.

"I know she was manipulating me," he concludes. "But maybe it's in our interest too, if they want to prevent the Eye from winning? I have the description of the ritual here, in my hoodie pockets."

Martin realizes he has been gripping Jon's hand. He feels empty and tired, but in a good way, like after an orgasm - he won't tell Jon that - unless Jon asks, of course. He almost wants him to ask. He wants Jon to know how much he loves all this.

"Can you be sure it's the same ritual?" Jon asks.

"Not at all," Martin answers. "I don't trust her."

"Why were you asking me about it?"

"I really wanted to help you with the Watcher's Crown. I feel guilty that it didn't work, and I was thinking, maybe this is another way. Also, I'm burning to wrap threads around you again. It felt so wonderful. Does it feel the same when you're compelling me? I thought if we were linked, maybe I would be less hungry for it. It's not even that I want to make you do anything specific, it's... anything. You being mine as much as I'm yours."

Martin is panting. He can't believe he said all this, but that's the way it works, isn't it? He accepted Jon's compulsion, he trusted Jon to still love him, even knowing the darkest parts of himself.

"Are you controlling me right now, even a bit?"

"No! That's the problem! Well, to me!"

"Are any other spiders controlling me?"

"I don't know! How would I know? I mean, no one told me, and isn't knowing things more the kind of thing you can do?"

"Fair enough. Thank you. I will look at the spider ritual today. Can I..."

"Sure."

Jon rifles through Martin's pocket, finds the thing and sighs. "Do you want to take a shower before going to work? Also, moving your pet?"

"I didn't... I have absolutely no clean clothes." Martin realizes.

"I promise I won't fire you," Jon says in a very dry tone. Martin laughs. Jon smiles just a little bit.

Elwyn is waiting in the bathroom; Martin just washes his face, then pets her a bit, then gets dressed. Jon is pointedly looking at the wall when he leads her outside. He looks very nervous. Martin waits on the doorstep.

Instead of joining him, Jon calls to him from the inside.

"Martin? Can you come in? Alone?"

"Sure!" Martin answers. He asks Elwyn to get to the ceiling, so people will notice her less, and also, flee instead of attacking.

Jon sighs. "You want to be in my mind, I can't... I mean, I'm not sure if it's the same for you, but you know I can understand. Are you able to modify my mind so I could stop shaking in blind terror in front of your pet, while still... reasonably wary in front of a monster that could easily eat me and maybe mind control me?"

Martin's eyes open wide. "Thank you so much! You have no idea what it means to me..."

"It's nothing. You're a package with the thing, after all. It will make my life with you easier."

This time, Jon leans towards Martin's chest by himself, holding him while Martin cradles his face. Surrendering himself, offering himself... It's even better than last time, because it doesn't have to hurt. He makes it soft. He brings Jon peace. Martin is breathing hard with the intense pleasure of love and fulfilled needs. The webs are so pretty under his fingers, so pretty in Jon's thoughts.

And after all this he kisses Jon, and Jon kisses back.

Chapter Text

"Hello, Mr Sims, Mr Blackwood," Rosie tells them as soon as they enter the Institute. Martin is blushing, wondering how much she knows - wondering if she might be, maybe, a Beholding servant to make his cheeks go that red.

"There's a letter for you from Elias, Mr Sims," she adds. And the letter in question immediately appears on the desk.

Jon gets pale.

"I'm not sure we should read it," Martin says. He hates how he feels a bit jealous, even now.

"I'm afraid it's too late," Jon answers. "I already know what's in it." He sighs, as a man who is not yet used to all the drawbacks of working for an Evil God of Knowledge.

He still peruses it, once they're in Jon's office, alternating between bitter laughs and pained grimaces.

"I'm afraid, Martin," Jon whispers.

"What is he saying?"

"That I'm closer to the Watcher's Crown than I thought. It doesn't... it doesn't give all the details. It gives too much."

"And about what would happen afterwards?"

"It promises me every one of my wishes fulfilled," Jon answers, with a dark laugh again. "And the sad thing is, I can't be sure that he doesn't know what my wishes are. And he certainly knows better than me what my wishes would be in such a world..."

Jon scowls.

"Is he talking about me?" Martin tries to guess. He doesn't know which one of his secrets Elias could still give Jon that would hurt them, but it still scares him.

"Nothing important, just being an arsehole."

"Can you show me?"

Jon hesitates before giving him the letter, pointing him to the relevant lines.

Well, as wishes go you already have Martin, which I must congratulate you on. It would probably have relieved me of some of his attentions, though you'll understand if I prefer not to put this theory to the test. The spider usually wins, it seems - though Martin has competition, if only in your smoking habits.

But your betrayal will only make sweeter to betray you too.

Then it gets too personal and Martin gives the letter back.

"Do you think he's watching us?" he asks.

"Oh, certainly." Jon squints, looking at vague, distant things. "Peter Lukas is laughing at him once more for needing to be rescued."

Martin laughs briefly, though he also really wants them never to have their fun again. He thinks about making them hurt each other and a thrill of anticipation goes through him. He tries to stop it, to keep it for when he's alone. It seems weird to think of it here.

"I want..." Jon says. "I will need..."

He stops himself and sighs.

"If the Watcher's Crown happens, I will never want for knowledge again. Everything I want."

"Jon, you didn't want it. You told me."

"I didn't want to want it. The person I was doesn't want it. It's not the same. You know this. And now I wish... I wish Elias were here."

Jealousy pierces Martin again, sharp. "Because he could tell you everything?"

"I need him," Jon answers, and it makes everything worse. "I mean, the hold the Eye has on me - I need him and I hate it."

He sounds like he's so close to breaking.

Martin gets closer to Jon's chair and holds him, Jon's face against Martin's stomach, pets his hair, soothes him. Jon surrenders to the embrace, and Martin feels better, because Jon seems to feel better, because Martin can pretend Jon doesn't belong to Elias for a few seconds.

And then a nightmare falls over him.

Worms spring from every wall, attack them, except that when he looks at Jon, he has no face, and Martin is so very alone. He looks for Elwyn, and she huddles against him, but then he realizes she's drinking his blood. He’s quaking in terror and in pain..

"Martin!" a voice calls from far away. "Martin, where are you? What's happening to you? Are you safe?"

"I'm at the Institute," he answers, before even recognizing Jon's voice. "I'm having a pretty bad hallucination, but I'm safe." He hadn't been fully aware of this, before he was - compelled, he realized, of course. "Sorry."

"Don't..." Jon is still hugging him, hard, but Martin wasn't able to notice sooner. "It's my fault. The Archivist nightmares - they have been manifesting in waking life too."

Martin can't really feel angry at Jon, because he didn't do it on purpose, but he did choose to bring him back from it - and then he wonders how it ends when it happens to one of Jon's previous victims, with no anchor, and shivers.

Jon sighs sadly into Martin's sweater. "I will do your Web ritual. I really hope it will work."

It's spoken in resignation, but it still makes Martin shiver all over. Mine, the Web inside him hums again. I'll be yours, and you'll be mine. Elias can't touch you.

"I'd need some spider web," Jon says again. "Your element, you know, like Gertrude needed fire to bond herself to Agnes. Can you, I don't know, ask your spider..."

"Of course!" Elwyn is currently sleeping on a corner. She doesn't seem to have suffered from what happened to Martin - she's not the one who gave a statement. Martin asks nicely, and Elwyn provides, while she's softly nibbling at his hands.

"It still feels disturbing," Jon comments. Martin doesn't mind. He prefers to see it as a positive comment on the flexibility of his mind alteration, rather than something mean about Elwyn. And he has spider web. Jon takes it with caution, closes his eyes, as to guess whether only touching it affects his mind.

"Can I kiss you?" Martin asks. He blushes. "I mean, you're lovely," he doesn't want to finish this sentence, because when you're wary of me doesn't sound like a romantic thing. "But also, I don't know, it could change things between us. It could be good! But I want to remember how it is right now."

"Then kiss me," Jon answers, half-smiling, like a challenge, and Martin rises to it, cradling Jon's head and tasting his lips, then biting into them. Jon melts into his arms. Martin leaves a trail of small kisses on his jaw, then opens the last button of Jon's shirt and bites his neck like he said he liked.

Jon lets him, doesn't make a move to stop him even when what he wants to do is so important. So Martin has to be the one to stop, even if he doesn't want to.

"Love you," he says.

Jon is blushing hard now.

"I'm sure it's the appropriate thing to say as we're going to literally bond ourselves together," Jon answers ironically. Then his voice drops, and he whispers "I love you, too."

It's Martin's turn to blush, he feels the burning heat in his cheeks and neck, and it's totally fair.

Martin tries to understand what's Jon's doing. It's a Web ritual, so he wishes he understood the symbols and the words, he wishes it were clear to him. If only he could promise Jon that there's nothing bad here, nothing hidden, only a promise to be linked forever. He feels a bit giddy. Of course Jon is doing this only because he feels at the end of his will, and it's probably a bad idea to tell the girls even after the fact.

He can see the threads, though, how they fly between them - new ones, harder than steel, reinforcing the soft ones that were already there. But he can't feel them, not yet. He wonders if he will feel it, when the ritual is finished.

It manifests as fear.

He can feel Jon in his mind, in his soul, accessing his deepest secrets, and why did he ever allow this? How could he hope Jon wouldn't be disgusted by every secret thought he managed to hide? Jon fought not to be a monster, and Martin didn't, not at all. He enjoyed every second of it.

"Martin!" Jon's voice calls. "Martin, are you touching my mind right now?"

"No," he answers in panic, "but they're touching anyway! You knew this! I knew this!"

Martin is not the best at self-esteem - but he feels Jon's guilt, crawling into his bones, and how can Jon live with this? How can Martin live like this?

"Are any other spiders controlling me?" Jon asks again.

The question is stronger than all the others, gets deep under Martin's skin. He doesn't know, but he can't just say it. He has to concentrate, to look at Jon. He cas see all the threads between them, the silk ones and the steel ones; he can see the threads to other people that he loves, he can even see the Eye pulsing around Jon. He explores every one of them, tries to recognize which ones come with the underlying smell of control.

He gets close to Jon again. In his jacket pocket, there's something. He needs to know, because Jon is asking, so he needs to touch. He can't not do it.

He pulls a lighter from Jon's clothes, and he cuts the thread as well as he can. There are still a few strands hanging, too hard.

"This," he finally answers, and it's like being able to drink while dying of thirst. "This was controlling you."

Jon looks at the lighter with disgust.

"I had this... all the time..." he says with a flat tone. "I knew this! I just couldn't understand it. Even when people were telling me... I hate this thing!"

"I'm sorry I didn't insist about it. I had seen the thread! I had just assumed it was a tape recorder, I shouldn't have..."

"Not your fault. What am I going to do with..."

"It's mine now!" Martin answers.

Martin can't see in detail what the thing did to Jon, he can only guess, by his reaction, that it was stopping him from noticing it was wrong. But he's sure it has other uses planned. Or maybe not planned, just in the past, and Annabelle predicted what would happen... No, she probably didn't. But she might have planned for it.

He remembers Elias’ comment about Jon’s smoking habits being Martin’s main rival. So he knew. He feels cold all of a sudden.

And then Jon laughs, near-hysterically. "Seems you can see more now. Or I can ask more of you. Or both. And your God wants me more than ever."

"I will claim you even against my own God," Martin answers, still gripping the lighter. "You have no idea how jealous I can be."

He's not sure he meant to say this. He's not sure it changes anything.

He still closes the distance to Jon and holds him very tight. He kisses him again. It's wonderful - it will never stop being so - but there's more now, Martin can feel Jon liking it too, and it makes him shiver in shared pleasure.

"You're mine," he says, words he has thought so many times but that run out of him mouth for the first time. Jon doesn't protest. He already knew anyway. Martin hopes that far away, Elias is watching them and dying a little inside.

Chapter Text

Martin counts the days.

He knows it can't last, being happy. It never has before. But he can enjoy every hour, every day, live them as vividly as possible.

One, two.

Jon works hard and reads too many statements, and fears the day he will exhaust the considerable stock of the Archives. Martin insists on doing the follow up. Jon appreciates it, out of nostalgia if nothing else.

Martin also does Elias' job, but he's hired an assistant now. A real one, one who's competent and for whom he has no nefarious spider or eye plans. He just wants her to do the useful and boring part.

Martin and Jon hold hands quite often. Everyone knows, now.

But the girls don't mind. They're more interested in Jon no longer eating brains.

Daisy is encouraging and Basira cautious. They're also wary of Martin, though he swears he hasn't killed anyone. (He hopes he can say it as convincingly once it stops being true. The man he visited with Annabelle is not far.)

Melanie doesn't really talk to Jon, but once she told Martin that she's glad he hurt Elias, but she would still have killed him, even free of the influence or any war ghosts.

They have a better sense of priorities than Martin. But Martin wouldn't swap for anything.

Three, four.

After work, they go together to Jon's or to Martin's. They each have enough clothes at the other's house by this time so it's no longer a problem, even if it's not planned. It's kind of planned, though. They just don't say it. But they would say it if there was an exception to the rule.

It's so good, being next to each other. Jon is reading a book, his head on Martin's thigh. Sometimes he mumbles that something is wrong. It's non-fiction: he says he can no longer get immersed in fiction, that the Eye infodumps him about what the author thought at every turn. It's worse in movies and television, where he can distinctly feel the emotions of every actor better than the characters'.

He doesn't mind when Martin is watching a movie, though. He just doesn't pay attention, and makes happy noises when Martin pets his hair. Sometimes he kisses his wandering hand and Martin shivers and blushes.

When there's a good documentary, they can watch together and Jon comments on the way they did the special effects.

One time, Jon insists on reading Martin's poetry. "This one is good for me," he says, "because every word of it is true." Martin blushes hard and hides his face.

Five, six.

Before sleeping, they huddle together, and there is a lot of kissing. Martin loves kissing Jon so much - and Jon loves to be kissed, maybe as much. It's hard to compare. Jon would know, but Martin won't ask.

"Do you regret it? Me not having sex?" Jon asks. He’s compelling Martin, and Martin is enjoying every syllable of it.

"Not really," Martin answers. "Before we got together, I had fantasies about having sex with you. But they were mostly about pleasuring you. I'm not interested in doing anything you won't like. I just want... you are pleased with me now, aren't you?"

He plants a deep kiss into Jon's neck, sucks and plays with teeth, gives him one more hickey. Jon certainly loves this, Martin can not only see it but feel it in the soul they share. Jon has to wait for Martin to stop to get coherent again.

"And for the sex as emotional connection," Martin keeps answering. "We have deeper than that. I'm yours and you're mine, forever. Please keep asking me questions, my love."

Martin has always blushed a lot. But since Jon loves him (or is it because of the spiders?) he's gotten confident, and he can make Jon blush quite a bit too. And Jon looks so pretty like this. Teeth marks on his neck and blood inside his cheeks.

"Don't you want anything more?" Jon Asks.

"Sometimes I want to enter your head and pet every one of your nerves." Martin answers. "Not as in sex, just pure, overwhelming pleasure. I want you to feel good and I want it to be my doing. I have all of this as a human, and I love this. The monster in me, it wants exactly the same."

"I'm not ready," Jon says in a small voice. "One day, maybe." He thinks every word of it, the uncertainty but also the real possibility.

Martin kisses him again. It's more than what he hoped for.

Seven, eight.

"Your spider spun a web through the door again! You come and remove it!"

Jon seems annoyed, but it's a small annoyance about a giant spider, and it somehow warms Martin's heart.

"I'm sorry," Martin answers. "It's my fault. I haven't been feeding her enough. I'm sure she wanted mosquitoes, you know, with blood in them."

He makes a ball of the web he carefully removed, and throws it to Elwyn. He's not sure she will eat it like normal spiders do. She only likes blood. But she can still play.

"You should go out this evening, after work. You can even leave early, if you want."

It seems so tempting, feeding Elwyn, looming over the next asshole looking scared and crying and trying to beg for their life. But as Martin points out, he wants to stay with Jon even more. Because he loves Jon, because being with Jon is the best thing in his life - and also, because Jon is not feeding.

"Why won't you come with me?" he asks. "I'm sure you can get a statement out of him."

"Martin, I can't..."

"I know how hungry you are," Martin answers. "I can feel it. Maybe that's why I've been forgetting poor Elwyn, because I didn’t notice myself getting a bit hungry in comparison. This guy's life is already ruined, isn't it? And you gave me his name. I know it's not okay. But in this specific case, it stopped being okay a long time ago - and he started it."

Jon doesn't answer, but he looks famished.

Nine, Ten.

Elwyn has stopped growing. She still needs feeding, and after she's drunk blood she gets fatter and her cuticle shinier. But she seems stuck at one meter long. Martin will never have to live in a bigger house with wider doors, and he's kind of relieved about it.

Jon didn't yield. If Basira was not at the Institute, Martin would send him one of his victims no matter what Jon actually says about it. Martin can now feel his hunger at all times. It's not healthy at all.

Martin trusts Jon, he believes he doesn't want to feed, but he doesn't understand why.

"I just don't want you to be hurt," he explains. "I wish I had more to give to you." Especially since the nightmares - they're gotten less bad. When they invade his waking life, he seems to have stolen some clarity from Jon; he now knows that it's an awful hallucination, that all of this is scary and painful but not true.

The one where he's the monster, it's okay, actually. The other ones - Jon is still watching, but now, even through the coldness of the Archivist, Martin feels Jon loves him, that they're bound by silk. It makes the Peter nightmares so much more tolerable.

The worms are still awful, but Martin can deal with them.

"You don't get to have scary adventures just so you can feed me," Jon jokes. Martin thinks it's a joke.

He answers in the same way. "Statement of Martin Blackwood: I love you. I love you more than everything, more than the sun and the stars, more than my own heart, more than my god."

Martin is a bit breathless after this - maybe he shouldn't joke about giving statements. After this, Jon holds him harder and longer than usual.

Eleven, twelve.

"Can you see Elias?" Martin asks. "Do you know what he's doing?"

"Not in detail," Jon answers. "I can see where he is now, still at Moorland House, but I can't read his mind."

"I hope he's having a very bad day," Martin jokes. But Jon doesn't laugh back; he looks thoughtful. Maybe Martin shouldn't have asked him to look at Elias in the first place.

"I wish he would talk more, so I could know what he's planning."

"Yes, that's a Lukas problem. Even he would get tired of monologuing quickly."

This time Jon smiles, and Martin loves his smile, loves his lips, loves everything of him. He touches his cheek with the tip of his fingers, wonderstruck again.

"Sometimes I don't see him at all, though." Jon answers. "Could he be in the Lonely?"

"Maybe," Martin answers. Though he wonders, would that stop Jon now? He's not sure he wants to keep talking about Elias. He regrets having talked about him in the first place. He can't feel what Jon thinks about him, so maybe Jon can't feel Martin's desire to hurt Elias and Peter, surging again.

Thirteen, Fourteen.

"Martin," Jon asks, one evening when they're lying in bed together, their legs tangled. "How do you think it works? The spider ritual? Tell me more about how I'm not meant to destroy the world. Tell me everything you know."

"I don't know more than I told you," Martin answers. "Gertrude found it, and did it on Agnes Montague, who then wasn't able to do her ritual. And of course it stopped her too, which, given what we know of Gertrude, was a win for her."

"Did it stop Agnes from wanting to try?" Jon asks again, "Or did it just make her unfit?"

"It's hard to say. You've read more statements about her than me. Gertrude tried to destroy the Archives, though? I think she was not interested in it at all."

"You're right," Jon says, with an adorable little sigh. "And what do you think was up with Raymond Fielding's hand?" He interrupts Martin before he can protest. "I ask you as an assistant and a friend with whom I can share ideas, not as a Web... person."

Martin laughs and takes his hand.

"I must confess, I have no idea. But maybe you could ask me, like last time, with the lighter?"

Jon doesn't need to be asked twice. "What connected Agnes and the Web?"

It's a big question, full or ramifications, and Martin is glad he's lying down, because his legs would be giving up, with his mind being so thoroughly crushed, until the tiniest fragment of truth can be extracted. It's quite painful, but in a good way.

"The fire ghost!" he says. "I was taking a statement, quite a while ago, about a female fire ghost, and - it might have been her! Fielding was seen as a fire ghost at Hilltop Road too!"

"Do you know where she manifested?" Jon asks, eyes very dark.

It wasn't in the statement, but Martin had done a bit of follow-up. He didn't remember any of it. He still gives the answer, torn right from his brain.

"I wish," Jon says, "I wish we could ask her." And they will.

Fifteen.

They go to the address. It's not rented for now, and Martin doesn't try subtlety or honesty - he makes the guardian open the door for them. But the ghost is not here to greet them or - it would be more plausible - attack them.

"Tell me your story," Jon says to the air.

The ghost appears then, and it's clearly a woman with long hair, on fire. Martin looks at Jon, sees on his face that he recognizes her - and then his jaw clenches in pain.

"Can't talk" is written in Jon's arm in red burns. It doesn't seem serious, more like a bad sunburn - either Agnes is trying to be nice, or she's lost most of her power.

"You will talk," Jon answers. He pulls all his willpower into this order, the air is flickering around him. Martin can tell how hungry Jon is. He wants answers, of course, but he really wants a statement too.

And then, Agnes's fire turns cloudy; she makes a noise like fire crackling. And this sizzling, in a thoroughly grotesque way, forms words. They're barely intelligible, they hurt Martin's head.

"You're the new Archivist," she says. "Gertrude died, then. And the Web already got you? How distasteful."

She looks at Martin with contempt in her eyes, and he feels the need to explain himself.

"No, it's not like that. We tried to prevent the rituals. We tried to use the Web, and I'm sorry Gertrude did it on you, but it works."

"Gertrude was not Web," Agnes answers. "What you've been doing," she still looks at Martin - "it's what Raymond Fielding wanted to do to me, and it’s bad. Do you really have no idea? I don’t believe you."

Martin, panicked, looks at Jon. He doesn't look shaken.

"We will have an idea soon," he answers. "Keep talking."

And with a pained expression, whether because of Jon's compulsion or because of what she has to say, she does.

Chapter Text

"When I was a child, everyone around me worshipped me and feared me, cared for my needs, some of them even listened to me. Of course, I thought that was what being loved meant.

When they sent me to Hilltop Road, they said that I would bring fear to our enemies. They said that I would learn useful things. I didn't realize at the time they just wanted to get rid of me. They wanted their fire messiah, not a child. Maybe they were ready to wait, but certainly not to work at it.

So I came to live with the spiders.

I knew what Raymond Fielding was doing. I knew that no amount of control would tame my fire, that any spider who touched me would die. Or at least I had been persuaded of it. So I didn't fear him. I didn't judge him either, since my life had been all about bringing people pain and watching their lives fall to ashes. But it still disgusted me in a way I couldn't explain to myself.

He treated me differently from the other kids. Of course, it was because he feared me. At the time I didn't even know why he had agreed to take me in. But it still pleased me, the way he was always polite, respectful of my choices.

Everyone there went to Church, you know. No one protested, of course. But he told me I didn't have to, because I already had a religion. I asked him if he didn't, too. He said yes, but that his religion could make a web anywhere, even in this kind of church - especially in this kind of church. I was not sure I understood, and I didn't go.

When I saved a boy, because I wanted to be sure I could, he didn't punish me, never even talked to me coldly. He kept being surprisingly nice for months, and in the end, I fully believed that he liked me. Of course, it was stupid, but I was very young.

When I grew up, I started to talk to the other kids - it was why I was here. They asked me what I was in for. I said I had set too many people on fire, and they reacted like it was normal. I was confident, but I still don't know if they actually accepted me or if the spiders made them.

What I mean is, I was happy here. I know it's wrong, and I knew it even at the time. And then I grew eighteen, and I was to leave. I didn't fear the spiders in the cellar, but I still didn't want to go back. It was unfair of me. I remembered the fire with great love, and they still sent me the candles and all the gifts. I was glad to see my hair become redder and redder. But I wanted something else.

And then Ray - I had been calling him that for years now - offered to adopt me, and I said yes. I had the feeling it made me free. I can't believe I thought that the Web could make me free! I took his name. I forgot to give credit to my mother, who had burned so I could exist. Just because he had always been nice to me, and because he had a nice face with pretty hair. And because Arthur and Eugene and Diego and the others had thrown me out when I was a small girl.

I stayed with him even after I turned eighteen. The other kids had been eaten a long time ago, and no more came. I was waiting with dread for the Lightless Flame to ask me to come again, but they didn't. I told him this, one time.

It was then, that he proposed the ritual. It was meant to be bond, he said, to be together even apart. I said yes. He didn't wait. He asked for a lock of my hair. I would have given it even without any reason.

And then he was burning, and I understood that I would never, ever be free.

‘Let me go!' I screamed. It was not only for him, I was screaming at everything. 'I want to escape! I want to choose what I want to be!' But it was not screams of affirmation, only of despair. It was not even a regret - what is one more bond when you’re already paralyzed by so many curses and expectations and knots of destiny?

I took his hand. His skin was very hot. I hadn't seen the flames in his body before. A few burning spiders fell.

'I will let you go,' he answered. But he was cold. It still sounded nice, but now I could feel that it was not true. It was so unbearably cold. 'If you want to, of course, you can go back to your worshippers, we will see each other again, but it's your choice. We will always be together anyway, even when you become queen of the world.'

I will never know if he had never cared about me or if it was just now, because my fire was hurting him so much. But we were linked, and in his words, in his gestures, in his mind, there was a hole where I wanted to feel his love for me. Of course I know. He never cared.

I wanted to burn the world more than ever.

'Of course, you were born for this,' he whispered to me. 'I'll help you enjoy it, and you'll give me a place in your world. I love you, Agnes, my daughter.'

I wanted to relent. Wanted to embrace my destiny, and please both my family of Fire and the man who had adopted me as a father. It was the only thing I could do, so why not delight in it?

And then I remembered again that I had wanted to be free. And the fire was still in me, so deep. So I killed him. I burned his body too, but I kept his hand. He had been mine. He ought to remember this. I think part of him knew what I had done. We were still linked, you know.

The hand was full of spiders; I cauterized it so they couldn't get out, and I stayed in the house. The spiders from the basement wanted to get out; I kept them prisoner. Often, I could see the ghost of Ray walking in the corridors, smiling. Sometimes, even, he was angry at me. But he never stayed long. He always disappeared in flames at some point. I pretended we were still living together, only now I had won. I still had his hand in mine.

And then one day the spiders escaped and got someone, and I realized I had played dollhouse too long. I burned the place to the ground. It burned very well. And I came back to the Lightless Flame and lied about my reasons. They cheered me on. It had felt so good. I wanted more of it.

But of course, the spiders had to take their revenge and take this from me. That's why they bound me to Gertrude. It was different, you see. Ray bonding himself to me - it was meant for him to share or even steal my ritual, and I now think it's the only way the spiders can win. Manipulating the gullible avatar of another power into letting them in. But the bond with Gertrude - our powers were not compatible at all, and it made me sad with myself, longing for another life even more than before.

Something that I had lost, something that I never really found again, so I died. The flame had been tainted anyway."

"Statement ends," Jon answers, and the tape recorder stops running. Martin's heart is running wild.

"I promise you I didn't know," he says.

Jon looks and sounds very tired. "I'm the Archivist, Martin. And we are bonded. You don't need to tell me."

Martin can hear all the objections to what he said - that he shouldn't have trusted Annabelle, that Jon trusted him to stop all this. He's not sure if this cruel scolding comes from his mind or Jon's.

"I understand better now," Jon says bitterly. 'Why the need didn't fade. It's not me. Well it's me but it's not..."

He seems close to breaking.

Agnes is no longer talking; Martin realizes she can't. Not when Jon isn't asking her.

But suddenly the fire ghost is on him. She's holding him, and it burns, not as strong as flames maybe, but like the worst fever and the worst sunburn he ever had, together. He can't think; he hears Jon vehemently ask Agnes to stop, order her, beg her. She doesn't.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks. And this time, Agnes has to stop because she has to answer him. Martin takes a huge breath of fresh air. His forehead is still burning with fever. He's sure that it could kill him, that it would be long and painful.

"I feel close to you, because the same thing happened to me," Agnes answers, fire crackling. "You won't tell me you want the spiders to parasite your ritual, do you?"

Jon stutters and it seems painful to him to answer. "And if I don't want to perform this ritual at all?"

"Even better! I'd hate if the spiders won, but the Eye is not my favourite either, and even Gertrude disliked it. From my experience, killing him, then getting linked to someone else, would do the trick."

It's true, Martin can understand even in his damaged state. All of this is true.

"Agnes. I love him. You had a hard life, but I read Jack Barnabas' statement, I talked to Jude Perry, and I know you were loved. Please, try to understand me. I want to find another way."

"He chained you with soft words and silk threads," she answers.

"He didn't! I promise you!"

Agnes shrugs. Martin can see her shrug.

"I still think you're wrong," she answers. "But I no longer see why I should care."

And she disappears.

Martin wants to thank Jon, but Jon won't let him talk, gets him out of the house, into the street. He calls a cab. Martin manages to be grateful they didn't take Elwyn; it would have been dangerous for her and some cab drivers don't take pets.

"It will be okay," Jon tells him. The drive seems very fast to Martin, so does the stairway. He feels like he's only really woken up when Jon has put a cold towel on his forehead and cream on his burned skin.

"What if she was right?" Martin asks.

"About what?"

About me needing to die, Martin thinks, but he wasn't compelled and he doesn't say it. "I thought I was doing what I wanted, but I was serving the Web all along. What if they chose me a long time ago? I always loved spiders... What if they made me fall in love with you?"

He grips Jon's wrist very hard. He doesn't want to hurt him, but he doesn't want him to leave either.

"Can the Web do this?" Jon asks. "Could you do this?"

"No," Martin answers without any hesitation. "Not love. Not like I'm feeling it now."

He's breathing a bit more easily.

"They didn't make it happen," Jon insists. "Maybe they predicted it. Same way Elias had some idea when he made me the Archivist. Maybe we're in the same situation, in a way. But you are yourself. You tried to help me as much as you could. I know this. I trust you."

It's so soothing, hearing this. Jon is being so nice to him today. He stays by his side and tells him funny stories and helps with the blisters. And he told Agnes he loved him, Martin remembers, as he falls into deep sleep. He told Martin, but it's not the same as having it publicly claimed. It feels wonderful.

When he wakes up, Jon is gone.

Chapter Text

Martin calls out, and when no one answers, he reaches. He reaches for the bond between them, but it won't tell him where Jon is, why. He can just feel the sadness, the resignation, and the anticipation.

He can guess what will happen. He can guess, but he hates it. So he tries to pull with all his strength, to make Jon come back to him right now.

It's useless, he knows it even as he tries. Jon is too far away. He is too far gone. Maybe he's not even thinking about Martin right now, which is... perfectly reasonable, Martin assumes, but it still hurts.

He almost runs to the door when someone knocks, but he's disappointed. Annabelle is on the other side. It's polite to knock, he remembers, and he almost laughs.

"Hello!" she says, smiling. "Why the long face? We have almost won. And your Jon will be alright. He will be more than alright, actually. He will share your victory. Don't tell me you didn't dream of it. Ruling a new world together. Never being weak again. Do you want to celebrate?" She rummages through Martin's fridge and cupboards. "With... tea, I guess?"

Elwyn runs to her, raises her pedipalps to get a petting. Martin can’t get used to this.

"So it's true," Martin answers. "It's now. The Watcher's Crown. With us as uninvited guests."

"Yes! I guess I ruined the surprise a bit, didn't I?" She puts water into the kettle, then sits on Martin's sofa.

"He asked me to stop him."

"And then he changed his mind. It happens all the time."

"He didn't tell me he had changed his mind! He ran away like he was ashamed!"

"Maybe he is. Or maybe he didn't tell you because he was afraid you would stop him. Because you wouldn't accept that he has changed."

"It's not me! Not only me. It's him who needed me to stop him, because it's not really Jon."

"Really? And is he himself when you're weaving your web on him? Not that I'm judging, of course. The question just deserves to be asked, doesn't it?"

Martin is suddenly shaken by the knowledge Jon is doing something, something linked to the Beholding of course. He can see Elias at this moment. Then he gets back to his sofa, and discovers that he can see the spider threads, just as well as when Jon was asking him. Better. It's a whole history of control all around him, all around Annabelle, all around the lighter he still has in his pocket.

"You did..." he starts, eyes widening in horror. "I could have stopped him by myself!"

"Seems like the ritual started," Annabelle answers, smiling. Martin doesn't react, still assimilating this new knowledge.

"It didn't hurt him, when I tried to stop him. You pretended it did! You were the one who hurt him from a distance, with your lighter, and you pretended it was what I'd done! You wanted us to do your soulbond ritual and you played with us!"

"Pretty much, yeah." She still looks so friendly.

"Did you come here in order to stop me from binding Jon again?"

"No," she answers. "Even if you had the means, I don't think you'd do something that stupid. You've been created for this day of victory, just as he has been. I'm here to protect you."

"From what?"

"Now that's the Watcher's Crown has started, there's very little chance it will stop. But your Archivist is mentally and emotionally very busy. If something happened to you, he wouldn't feel it like he usually would. So, for someone who wants the Eye to win but has a grudge against the Web, it's the ideal moment for killing you."

Martin doesn't know how his face looks, but he's certain Annabelle is joking about reading him wrong when she cheerfully starts talking again. "Yes, I know, you two have something special, he should be able to feel it even fully ravished by a world-changing ritual. Maybe his Lonely friend is helping. Anyway, you will find Jon again. What is a bit of betrayal when you love each other? The only thing you have to do is not to die."

"Who will try?" he asks.

Annabelle shrugs. "I have no idea. It was rude of your Eye boyfriend to leave without having a guess at this. But let's get ready, alright?"

"Why don't I feel pulled to the Watcher's Crown like Jon does?" Martin asks. "If, like Jon, it's what my God wants from me? I should!"

He says it like he wanted it, like he's coming to the idea. He's not sure he can manipulate a spider woman, but she does seem very confident.

"No idea! Probably because the Mother doesn't need you directly involved, only him. Let's focus on the issue at hand, won't we? I know who hates the Web, but who hates you?"

"Elias. Probably Peter too. But you told me they were busy."

Martin keeps wondering about things that seem more important than the distant fear of being attacked. He remembers how he put blocks in Jon's head, to prevent him from ending the world as they know it. He wonders if he didn't weave some webs around his own thoughts, to remember himself it's still awful, even when he no longer fears the end of the world - not this specific ending.

He tries to think about all the people who would hurt. He is relieved to discovers he still cares. It still pierces his heart. It's just not his first reaction, he has to concentrate to reach it now.

But he can. He has control over his own mind. He wants to rule the world with Jon - of course, it's a nice fantasy. But he's no longer in elementary school to think that it would erase all his problems. He doesn't want this to be rooted on the hurt of billions of people, some of them being decent people. Yes, he still believes in this.

He loves Jon dearly, but he still knows there are a lot of people in the world who can love as much as he can, probably better, by virtue of not being monsters.

He has taken a decision. He'd like to think it was the hard part. Does he really believe Annabelle, about people out there out to kill him? He's not sure.

"Daisy is okay now," Martin says, "but Elias can still blackmail a lot of people. I have no idea who would come. It doesn't have to be about me or about Jon."

He pets Elwyn, who is back next to him on the sofa, and pretends to drink the tea. He's not sure about what's in it.

He needs to act fast, but he also needs to distract Annabelle too. To make her underestimate him. It's usually so easy. He can do this.

"Tell me," he asks. "Tell me about the world after we win."

Annabelle sighs. "I have dreamt," she says. "But of course, I dream only about the giant spiders weaving everyone's doom like a beautiful tapestry. Lives make sense, you know, when they're controlled from the start. Even suffering makes sense, and our happiness even more. I don't know about the Eye. But we are many legged, many eyed. We will prevail. Your Archivist will know everything and he will know we have won, but he won't mind. Or maybe he will, but you can protect him from this pain too. You will like it. He will be a god, and you'll still protect him."

(Of course Martin wants this.)

"He knew what you were and he did it anyway. I was afraid the Desolation girl would ruin everything, but he still likes better to see giant spiders in a new world than for you to die. You can smile."

Martin actually wants to cry; he doesn't have to fake it.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says.

Mentally he asks Elwyn to follow him, just pulling very gently on a string, like a leash. She does.

"I hope you're still on my side," he whispers. "I'm not sure I can do it without you."

He goes to his bedroom, opens the window, and gently asks Elwyn to weave a ladder. And then, he's struck by how ridiculous he's being. If he dies, he won't save the world. And Jon will be hurt. He probably won't save the world anyway. Does he even want to? It doesn't seem so bad.

He squeezes the lighter in his pocket and tries to be lucid. Annabelle ensnared him. He can almost see it.

And then anger flares in him. He doesn't want Annabelle to win when she played with him this way; he wants even less for Elias to win. So yes, he will stop this, if only out of resentment, and if he can't, he will look Jon in the eye and ask him why he left him alone.

Already Annabelle's threads are falling from him; and he falls from the window, slowing himself down with the threads Elwyn left.

He takes a page from Annabelle's book and stops the first car in the street; it's his cab now. He gets to the Institute as far as he can, checking at each intersection that Annabelle isn't making the driver come back.

Finally he's at the Institute, and he runs through the doors. Rosie is not at her desk; Martin just has the time to wonder why the Institute is not closed on a day of world-changing ritual, and then he hears someone laugh.

"You came," says the short, strong woman. "I won my bet with Lukas. And as a reward, I get to kill you."

Her hands are so hot it's distorting Martin's vision, and he wonders why it took him this long to recognize Jude Perry. Jon told him about her.

He wants to turn and flee. He can't win this confrontation. He has absolutely no leverage on her. She doesn't like him, doesn't fear him. He's not even sure she hates him personally. And she has absolutely no mercy.

But he has the feeling that if he runs he still won't win.

He silently pushes Elwyn to run and hide. He doesn't want anything to happen to her, and he fears Jude knows this.

He wonder if even Annabelle could have stopped Jude. She's stronger than he is. She probably would have just used enough human puppets for cover. To think that if the ritual were complete he would win easily...

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, delaying his fate.

She shrugs. "I've already repaid Elias for killing Gertrude. But what he asked for will make your Archivist very, very sad. It will be delightful."

He can understand this too well. She laughs, and walks toward him, both calm and fast. He tries to move back, looks for anything that could help...

"I know where Agnes is!" he cries out.

She abandons any pretense of calm and slaps Martin. He feels like his face is splitting in half. The heat makes his skin crackle, and it was only a short touch...

He still needs to talk. He will make himself his own puppet, if he needs to.

"She left a ghost. I talked to her. I can tell you where she is."

He hasn't any hope that Jude will agree. But she listened. She's angry. That's a feeling he did create. She's curious, and he's controlling that too. And he's frantically wrapping webs around her, too delicate to make her move, but it's a beginning, it's something.

"So tell me," she says, as she holds Martin's wrist. He screams. He can speak again only when she lets him go. His wrist is already all yellowish blisters on red skin.

"You love hurting me," he tells through gritted teeth. "You can keep going until I can't remember any of it, or I can tell you, and you can run to her. But I promise you, you won't get the place by torturing me. You can only destroy me."

Martin can read fury on her face. "Tell me then!"

"Promise!" is all Martin can say. He sounds like he's begging.

"I promise I won't hurt you more. I want to see her more than I hate you. Tell me, asshole!"

She doesn't have any intention to keep her promise - but she's still given it, and it's one more thread Martin can use. A strong one. He tells her the truth. He has no reason to lie, to have her even more angry. She listens intently, and then, she laughs and raises her hand.

Martin pushes and pulls, reminds her how much she wants to see Agnes, how desperately she has missed her. Jude turns her head towards the door. She's going. She's leaving. The pain is overwhelming, but he has to keep weaving. He can survive.

And then she turns back, screams "Fucking spiders!" and lunges at Martin again. He can’t do anything to stop it this time.

And then a yellow door opens just behind him, and of course, he has to choose. It's a rescue. It could be worse than fire, but not in the next few seconds. He jumps back, and Helen’s door closes.

Chapter Text

Martin almost can't breathe as he finds himself in the Distortion's corridors. I got out last time, he tries to convince himself. I'm not here forever.

He wonders why he took the door. He could have chosen to die. But then no one would have stopped Jon - and also, it would have hurt quite terribly. He delicately touches his own cheek and neck. It doesn't hurt, only gives him some weird, very uncomfortable buzzing feeling. He knows it will hurt if he gets out. The burns are still there. But here where the Spiral rules, the Desolation can't reach him. Pain would be too much of an anchor to reality.

"Helen?" he asks. "I must thank you. What do you want?"

"Depends." It's not her voice, it's Melanie's. He's so glad to see her at first - but she's with Helen and he gets nervous again. He remembers when Helen Richardson was just one more lost victim here, but he sure doesn't want to remind her. "Why are you here?"

“Is Jon here? Is he doing something stupid?”

“Do you want to stop him?” Helen asks.

"He wanted me to," he explains.

He hopes Helen has the same goal, but he's not sure about how dynamics between Powers work. He still doesn't know why Peter Lukas is helping Elias.

"Answer the question," Helen asks in an inhuman, distorted voice.

"Yes! Of course!" Martin realizes they still aren't looking at him as if he had given a final answer. "Of course I want to save the world!"

"Why?"

"Because..." Martin doesn't want to wonder again why he doesn't want this to end in Jon ruling over the world with Martin on his side. "Because Elias deserves to be punched in the face."

Melanie laughs a bit, at this one. "Can't fault you. I don't understand what happened, but I got the feeling that your Jon had to choose between ending the world and killing you?"

"What? No!"

Martin thinks again about what Agnes said. It was not this - but if Jon had lost the hope of making his desire to do this ritual go away... Martin should have understood. Should have guessed Jon would hear it this way.

"Just tell me what you're planning to do!" he asks. "Can you drop me where Jon is? I need to talk to him!" Talking is half a lie, he will wrap him in the tightest webs he can weave, but he also intends to have a real conversation with him.

And then Martin feels it, the worms, and the sadness of Peter's attentions, and giving himself to the spiders, all of this at the same time. He can't even feel his own face burnt, but he still feels this, a surge of panic in his brain. He gasps. How would it feel if he wasn't trapped in another Power?

"You too? Makes sense." Melanie comments. "Okay, I will assume we're on the same side. Jon came in very early, and he was super-nervous - like, 'I'm about to do something bad' nervous. That's why Daisy chose to follow him when he went up. She came back saying she had caught Elias' smell, and she could use backup.

To be fair, I hoped you had caught him back, but you weren't here. It was fishy. I should have suspected something when you didn't come by the same train as Jon, really.

So we all went up. Basira had her gun, just in case. I wished I could still use knives as I could before, but I took one from the kitchen anyway. It was clearly not normal, the air was vibrating as we were going up. Basira kicked in the door of Elias' office and it was - it was not. Elias' office. It was huge and full of people and things..." She shakes her head, smiles. "It's quite hard to explain, but at least I know I'm not giving a statement."

Helen has something that looks like an approving smile, though Martin isn't sure whether she approves of Melanie's efforts or of an office that doesn't make sense. Melanie keeps going. "So, all the people Jon ate - even the ones who went in the Institute on purpose - they were there, but not really, they just seemed there, with all the fear. We could see Jon too, and it was - his mind was open. That's why I know it was about you, and that he was the one doing it, not Elias, even though he was there. It... it scared me. Daisy and Basira didn't hesitate - they ran towards Jon. And the room caught them.

They couldn't move, they were just trapped in their stories. The stories they had told Jon. Daisy screamed as she saw the coffin again and Basira was watching her former partner burning, and - I was there too. It was just an image of me, but I could feel the smell of blood and the sound of the stapler in an arm that was not flesh and I... tried to run. The door had gone. But Helen's was there. I feel it less now. But I know I'm still there."

"They are too," Helen adds. "Two different pasts of me that are not me. With time it will draw in even me. I hate this. And, as I told your Jon once, I don't want the Eye to win."

"I'm glad you're not part of it, Martin," Melanie says. "But you gave statements too, didn't you? I can see it. He's reaching for that part of you."

Martin can understand better why Elias allowed Jude to come to the Institute on the day of his ritual, why she was never a risk for him.

"We need someone who didn't!" Melanie says to Helen. "I told you. Do we have that much time?"

"I will do it." Martin says. "I mean... you can look for someone else, but..."

He tries to think about who could manage this. He's about sure Jon is no longer himself, no one can convince him with words. He doesn't think any Web person would want to stop him, and he doesn't want anyone to kill him on the spot.

He concentrates on his body, thinks of what he has to do. He can do it, he has to. He's got power and he will put all of it into stopping Jon.

"But before you go, drop me in," Martin adds.

"I think I didn't explain well how awful it was," Melanie answers. "It's your choice. But don't blame me after, if there is an after."

Helen has a huge smile again and opens a door on her floor. "You can jump."

And Martin does.

It's stronger than it ever was. Reliving all the statements he gave, Peter and Jane and Annabelle, they are here, and he's terrified. He wants to move, but he can only see, from three different places - all the statement givers around Jon and Elias, terror and pain and regret and sadness, monsters from every Fear, grouped in a fourteen-pointed star. It is the crown, Martin realizes, but neither Jon neither Elias are wearing it. It's huge, at the top of the whole institute, and what's probably still under it.

Jon looks haunted. He's kneeling in front of Elias, staring into the void with an enraptured expression, his scars shining like jewels, and Martin could swear he doesn't look happy. He knows what Jon’s happiness looks like.

Martin stares in panic, can't think about anything other than watch. He's still walking, though. Advancing. In his hand, he grips hard on the spider lighter, that he has infused with orders for himself. He never stopped trying to understand how Annabelle could control someone in advance, at a distance. He did in the end, even if he didn't tell Jon. And now he's a puppet, certainly, but he's his own puppet.

And then he's at the center of the crown, in what actually used to be Elias' office.

The flashbacks get more tolerable, like they were when he was in Helen's stomach. There's more, though. There's the Eye above him, judging every part of him, of his life, and this unforgiving eye is Jon's, as Martin keeps walking towards Elias and Jon’s ritual. He's not that close, but he can see every detail of his face, every tear in his eyelashes.

He can't just walk. He needs to think and act by himself now. He's used to being known. it's crushing, but Martin can imagine it hurts good, if it's Jon.

"Jon?" he asks. His voice sounds pitiful in the humming of disaster all around him. "Is this what you want?"

Jon looks at him, and the pressure becomes stronger. Martin notices then that Elias is petting his hair, and hatred gives him strength. It's very much mutual; Elias looks at him like he wants his gaze to kill him on the spot.

"I don't have to answer to the Web," Jon says flatly.

"Not yet," Martin answers, and he starts weaving strong threads to reconnect to the Jon he knows. "Do you even remember that you didn't want to destroy the world, that you've changed your mind?"

Jon, always honest, tries to give an answer to this. Even though, as he was saying, he doesn't have to. But he and Martin have so much history, and Jon still wants to tell him, even if Elias tried to make him forget how important it was.

"I can't regret anything," Jon answers.

"But you want to," Martin says, as he's weaving and weaving.

"Jon," Elias says, urging him to look at him again. Jon leans into his legs in a needy way that turns Martin's heart into a violent storm. "Jon, there's no pain on the other side, I promise you."

And Martin can see what he's doing, because they're in the middle of an Eye ritual and he's still bound to Jon by their souls.

"You can know, Jon. And you can do what you want."

And he pulls violently in the opposite direction.

Maybe Martin could have stopped all this instead, wrapped Jon until he couldn't move. But no, he couldn't - he knows what was stopping him. Jon's gaze amplified so many times, the unbearable idea that Jon would resent him.

This is different. This is pulling with exactly the same strength as the Beholding did, hopefully leaving Jon awake and free, in the middle, between two terrible pulls cancelling each other.

Jon blinks. There's a terrifyingly long second, and then the statement givers start to become transparent.

Martin just thinks they've won for one second, and then he wants to scream, as Elias digs a knife from his pocket, and starts to lower it to Jon’s chest. He’s too fast to weave around him, too fast to do anything, and Martin has just the time to understand as the Eye makes it clear, Elias doesn't want Jon to die, he wants him to be so hurt that he has no choice, that he will yearn for any peace, and it makes Elias' heart beat fast in sadistic and loving delight and...

There are two gunshots. Elias' knife flies away, and his blood spatters on Jon's face and neck. Martin looks, sees Daisy and Basira. Their horror and fear are gone, as are the living ghosts of all the other statement givers, but them - they were always really here, paralysed and silently screaming, but also waiting.

Martin runs to Jon, but he's safe. It's only Elias' blood. Jon almost falls on the floor. Martin is not close enough to gather him in his arms, not really, but with a bit of spider web to make him stand just a bit longer... It's the same, it's almost the same.

Jon smiles to him, a big, fuzzy smile.

"I will die, Martin."

"What? No! Basira and Daisy stopped Elias! You're alive, Jon!"

"I was made for this. And it failed. I made it fail. I have a few years, maybe."

"I'm sorry, Jon, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be, it's just... I think you should know. But you did save me. You saved me from not caring. I'm the one who's sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you, not now. Kiss me, please?"

Martin does, heart beating fast, and thinks about a few years. A few years is probably alright, it they can kiss like this all the time, every day, both intense and soft. It's worth it. He will convince himself it was worth it, even if he has to use his own webs again.

"Maybe me too," he says. "If rituals work that way. It seems I was meant to let you do it."

Jon's fingers twitch in Martin's hair. It touches Martin’s cheek and he remembers only then how badly his burns hurt. So they stop moving. They're both very aware Jon is alright, in a better state than Martin actually, strong enough to stand up. He just doesn't want to, and Martin certainly won't point it out.

It goes quite fast after this. Basira had tied up Elias immediately, and is now confiscating any potentially mystical item from his desk or office. Daisy doesn't even suggest bothering to kill him. Martin wonders what will happen to him. He wonders if Elias, like Martin and Jon, will suffer of some mystical backfiring. He wonders if he will keep his Web powers. He doesn't want to die, but he's also afraid of losing them. He wouldn’t want to keep Elias unchecked and also - he loves them, he can’t lie to himself.

He shivers a bit when a cold wind plays at his neck; he grips Elias again with all the old threads, making him gasp. Not this again.

"Don't worry," says Peter's voice. He's invisible and Martin thinks no one else can hear his voice from the Lonely. "He lost, neither your god nor mine got to come through with the Eye. This fight is finished. I won’t give him another get out of jail free card when he has nothing to give to me. He’s on his own."

“And you're scared of me?” Martin whispers.

There’s no answer; Martin thinks he can take this as a good sign. Elias is done for. Annabelle will be bitter at him, though Martin hopes she's practical enough to work on another attempt rather than revenge. But if he's powerless...

But then Elwyn scuttles towards him, seeming as affectionate as ever. And Martin knows he still belongs to the spiders in their complex machinations. Daisy and Basira seem grossed out when Elwyn starts sipping at Elias' blood on the floor, but frankly, Martin doesn't care.

"I'm still a spider person," he whispers to Jon, as a relief or as a warning, he's not sure.

"And I'm still the Archivist," Jon answers. "Today - this was about what we do, not what we are. And you did good, Martin Blackwood. My love." Martin's cheeks are burning, and Jon keeps going, deadpan. "See, I don't think our gods even notice when we try to summon them. The Eye has not abandoned me. It told me I was dying as fact, not as revenge. It still knows the best ways to make you blush, better than I do. But I will learn."

"Shut up," Martin says weakly, and to make sure it works, he kisses him again.