Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Martin awoke slowly. The first thing he noticed was that he was very comfortable, leading him to wonder if he was somehow back at Salesa’s. The next thing he noticed was the weight on top of him that he recognized as Jon. Without thinking he began to run his fingers through the salt and pepper locks and Jon hummed appreciatively. Then he felt the smaller man jolt.

“Martin? Are you awake?” He could practically hear the smile in Jon’s voice. Instead of answering Martin simply tightened his hold on his boyfriend, wanting to stay in this warm fuzzy feeling for a bit longer. 

By now Martin had his wits about him enough to remember what happened and knows that they will have to talk about everything sooner rather than later. He knows that this is either the afterlife, “somewhere else”, or perhaps a mix of the two. He knows there are hurt feelings on both sides that need to be addressed. He knows they'll need to work out where to go from here. But right now he’s warm, comfortable, and has Jon laying on him like a weighted blanket and everything else can wait for five goddamn minutes.

Jon huffs in amusement and disbelief at Martin's refusal to get up, then buries his face in his love’s chest. He's not in any hurry to leave the bed either; he’s waited too long for this. Jon knew exactly where they were, and they had all the time in all the worlds to talk, now that he was finally awake. He made this space for them to rest in. If Martin was enjoying it enough to put off the important discussions, he considered that a win.

“Jon… are you alright?” Martin finally asked.

“I am. I've been fully healed and awake for a while now, just waiting for you to regain consciousness.” Jon looked up at Martin who was staring at him as if trying to gauge how to approach the situation.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A while. Unfortunately that whole, ‘time doesn't work properly’ thing applies here as well.”

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?” Martin looked around. The room was like a massive reading nook/pit you’d see on social media. The bed took up the entire floor and shelves lined the walls. The shelves housed hundreds of books and files that reminded him of the stacks in the archives. There were doors on each wall and despite seeing no light sources, the room was well illuminated. There were cushioned seats along the edges wherever there was space between the shelves and more pillows and fuzzy blankets than he could count. All in all, it looked like something out of a cozycore influencer’s pinterest board.

“Well, do you want the simplified or full version?”

“Let's start with simplified. We can work up to the full version.”

“We are in what I call the True Archive of Fear. Everything every servant or avatar of the Beholding has seen or experienced is stored in this liminal space and I have a level of control over it, so I made a comfortable little pocket for us to rest. We have free reign of the place and if you want to make any changes let me know. If it's in my power I'll do it.”

“We’ll… get back to that. I guess you're still connected to the Eye then.” Martin sighed. Looks like they'll never escape the fears.

“In a manner of speaking. Fused with might be a more accurate phrase.” Jon tried to keep his voice even, but he was nervous how Martin would react. Sure, Martin loved him even as an unwilling avatar of the Eye, but now he is the Eye. They had talked at length about what they had wanted to do after the apocalypse, and dating a literal fear entity was certainly not on that list.

Martin processed this for a moment before he began to sit up.

“Does this pocket liminal space thing have a kettle? I need some tea.”

Jon led Martin through the door to the kitchen and made sure it was stocked with their favorite teas. Martin found the kitchen fit that same cozy aesthetic with warm colors, plush towels, and decorative backsplash with paintings of highland cows. Jon had said he made a comfortable place for them here, but this made it hard to believe this was in an eldritch fear entity’s archive. 

He took a guess at where the mugs would be, and found the same mugs they had used back at the institute. He felt a bit of nostalgia as he pulled them out and set the kettle to boil. Jon’s was a grumpy cat mug Tim had gotten him for a christmas gift exchange and Martin’s was a forest green with Keats’ Modern Love scrawled on it that he had gotten from a poetry event he attended his last year of secondary school. He wondered if they were the same or just really well done copies as he poured the hot water in.

Martin spoke again as they waited for the tea to steep. “So, is this where we are now? Like, can we leave or are we stuck here?”

No, we have to stay here forever. He wanted to say, but that would be a lie, and while he was waiting for Martin to wake, he promised to never lie to him again.

“Well, you can leave, if you want. You can go to any of the thousands of universes we are connected to. Our original one isn't an option anymore, but I could help you find one similar or better-” Martin held his hand up.

“I have to stop you there. If I left you wouldn't be able to follow me, right?”

“Not for long, anyway. I might be able to manage a manifestation for about a day if I didn't use any powers before I would have to stop, and even then, it'd be a proxy. My true body is here.” 

“Then I'm not going anywhere. Sure, I'm mad at you. You betrayed us and then I had to stab you for goodness sake! But I meant it when I said I’m not leaving you. Where you go, I go.”

“That’s the deal. I've missed you, Martin.” Jon finished their pledge and wrapped his arms around Martin to pull him down for a kiss. Martin smiled against his lips before breaking away to finish making the tea. They sat at a breakfast nook that Martin was fairly certain wasn't there when they entered.

“So… I don't suppose you know what happened to our universe?”

“Well, given I can't see it anymore I can't be sure of anything, but I think that's a good sign that they no longer have to deal with the fears!” Jon laughed nervously.

“That's good. I hope the girls got out safe.”

“They should have. I had the servitors shield them before you… before the tether was cut. They were almost out before I lost sight of them.” 

“That… is actually really reassuring. Of course, even as you're being torn apart and about to be stabbed you think about protecting others.” His voice dripped affection for the ridiculous man in front of him, but the next moment a sadness washed over him. “I'm sorry that it came to that. We both went behind each other's back and I want to apologize for my part in that.”

“Martin, you have nothing to apologize for. You did what you had to because of my actions. I was doing what I thought was right, but ultimately I did so by betraying your trust. That was in no way right. I’m so sorry, Martin.”

“Thank you. I don't know if I can forgive you just yet, I’ll need some time to process everything, but I love you.” Martin takes Jon’s hand across the table. “I’m going to stay right here while I do. You seem to have a lot more of your bearings than I do, so I might need you to play eldritch google again, haha!”

Martin had meant to lighten the mood, but Jon’s expression turned more serious as he stood up, walked around the table, and kneeled next to where he sat all while never letting go of his hand. 

“Martin, I’ll answer every question you have; I’ll spend eternity satisfying your every curiosity. However, I’ve had a lot of time to think while waiting for you to wake up, and there are some things I’d like to say before we get into all that, if you will allow me.” Jon waited for Martin to nod before continuing.

 “I used to think those romance stories were ridiculous. The ones where the protagonist has to choose between the world and their love interest, and given the genre is romance, of course they choose the love interest. I could never wrap my head around it. How could one person be so important that the protagonist would sacrifice the world for them? Then I had to choose, an entire multiverse, or you. I don’t know how I ever thought I could choose them. Even now I can see trillions of people across the multiverse that I unleashed the fears upon, and if I could go back to that moment I would choose to save you again. I can't claim to be a good person, or even much of a person anymore, but my love for you is the most real thing in this space. So if after you learn about all I am now you decide you can’t forgive me, I will understand. I’ll help you make a home wherever you choose, but I hope you choose to stay with me despite everything. Because I love you and want to spend eternity proving it.” 

Martin stared at his boyfriend for a moment, as if waiting for him to finish, before pulling the smaller man into his lap. 

“You know that sounded like the beginning of a proposal, right?” 

Jon blushed. “I mean, I'd marry you right this moment if that's what you wanted, but I figured I'd wait until we worked through everything to propose properly. I just need to get that off my chest so you know where I stand. You are the most important person in the multiverse to me.”

“Probably for the best to put off proposals for now. It doesn't seem like couples counseling is an option anymore either so-”

“Actually that can be arranged!” Jon excitedly injected.

“What? How?”

“We exist in a sort of dream nexus between worlds. I can enter people's dreams. I can make a counselor dream about working and we will be their client. I may have done this before.” Jon let out a nervous chuckle and buried his face in Martin's chest.

“While I'm proud of you finally getting some help, isn't that kind of cruel to make them work for free in their sleep?”

“My therapist is going for their doctorate. I've been making sure they know everything they need to know for their tests and essays.” 

“So you're paying by giving them an eldritch cheat sheet?”

“Knowledge and application are different! It's still their responsibility to apply the knowledge correctly!”

Martin laughed as Jon pouted. “Well, I suppose that’s as fair of a payment as you can give them. And you’ve found non supernatural ways to explain everything?”

“That’s part of the beauty of it, Martin! Since it’s still a dream, they just take everything at face value and treat everything I say as normal trauma! And when they wake up they either forget all about until our next session, or just think of it as a really weird dream. I can tell everything like I experienced it and get the help I need. I actually can’t wait to tell them you woke up. They have been a huge support through all this. They aren’t a couple’s counselor though, so I’ll need to find us one; probably for the best since we want our counselor to be an objective third party and I’ve been working with them for a while.”

“Jon, how long have I really been asleep? If you’ve regularly been seeing a therapist in that time, it sounds like months at least.”

Jon sighed, “I was telling the truth when I said time doesn’t work properly here. Each of the different universes I can see all move at different paces relative to each other. In the time it takes me to snap my fingers here, anywhere from one second to a year could have passed in a universe. For how long I’ve been in therapy I can confidently use their universe’s time frame and say I've been going for three years now. However I experience all time simultaneously. So we have been in this space, and your subsequent coma has lasted, for anywhere from a few years, to a few millennia.”

“Jon…”  Martin could not help but think of how hard it was to wait for Jon to wake up for six months; he could barely fathom a few millennia. “I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine… You've waited for me all this time?”

“I would wait millions of years for you, Martin. You are worth every bit of waiting. Though it’s not as if I was twiddling my thumbs all that time. I've kept busy. Organizing my archive, going to therapy, reading literature from across the multiverse, etc. Creating this pocket dimension was actually one of my bigger projects. Initially, I only had the archive portion, but eventually I discovered I could create new rooms and shape the interiors to suit my needs. I hope you like it. I’ll admit I never had an eye for interior design, if you’ll excuse the pun. Still, I tried to make it as comfortable and cozy as possible.”

“Did you just google ‘cozycore’ to get ideas?”

“No, one of my avatars is really into the aesthetic and I took some stuff from his ‘dream home’ vision board.” 

“Knew it. You said if I want to change stuff I could? How about later we make this place more ours and less like someone else's. Pick out furniture and color schemes and all that together.” 

“I would love to.” Jon smiled fondly and wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. Martin knew there was more they needed to talk about, but most of it can wait until they go to couples counseling and he really just wants to snog his boyfriend senseless.

He threads his fingers into Jon's hair and deepens the kiss. Jon hums happily into the kiss and shifts so he is properly straddling his love. The hand that isn't in his hair grips waist, rubbing small circles into his side with his thumb. They let themselves bask in each other's affection and for a moment everything was just perfect.

Of course, perfect moments cannot stay perfect, as they are interrupted by a knocking on the other side of the kitchen.

“Who…?” Martin looks at the door, confused, while Jon lets out a frustrated groan.

“Go away, Mother.”

Chapter Text

“Come now, don't be like that.” A sickeningly sweet voice comes through the door. “The sooner you let me in the sooner I'll leave~” 

“That's your Mum?” Martin asks, incredulous.

“Absolutely not. That's the Web. She insisted I call her Mother and quite frankly I've given up trying to address her as anything else. We have a bit of a deal now.” Jon sighs. “She's persistent, but if you don't want to meet her I can talk to her outside.”

Filing ‘where exactly is outside?’ under ‘questions to be asked later’ Martin loosens his hold on Jon and decides to get this meeting over with if she is going to be a regular guest.

“You wouldn't happen to know how she takes her tea would you?”

“Steeped in milk with five sugars.” Jon wrinkles his nose at the unwelcome information and Martin snorts.

“I'll make it. You let her in. Might as well meet the future in-law, yeah?” 

“She's not-” another, more insistent knock came from the door. “- fine! I'll let you in! No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jon grumbled as he got off Martin and walked towards the door. Martin smiled at his grumpy boyfriend and made his way to the fridge and stove to start on the tea.

Martin wasn't sure what to expect when Jon opened the door, but Annabelle Cane if Annabelle Cane was in her 60’s was not it. Was she actually Anabelle? Was Anabelle actually the Web? 

“Oh, look at you! Finally, sleeping beauty is awake! Let me tell you, that one was a mess without you. Once some alternate versions of yourselves had the most adorable meet cute and- hmmrrm!” Jon jumped to cover the woman's mouth.

“Is there an actual purpose to your visit, or are you just here to embarrass me?” Jon snapped. The Mother of Puppets gently pried his hands from her mouth to reveal a wicked grin full of sharp teeth.

“I think embarrassing you is a perfectly valid reason to visit, but I wanted to celebrate the fact that your true love awoke from his slumber! And as the man himself said, it's good to meet the in-laws. It's been just you and I for so long in the Nexus I figured he deserves a proper welcome to the family.”

“You aren't actually my mother no matter what form you take.”

“You’re not still mad about the time I took your mother's form, are you?”

Jon bristled at the memory and Martin decided now was a good time to step in to diffuse the situation. He placed the tea on the counter between them and cleared his throat.

“So you can take any form you like? Sounds neat.”

“Yes she can, she took this form because Anabelle is familiar to you, and even if it was for her own ends she did help in saving our world.”

“Exactly! I like appearing as a motherly figure, but your relationship with your mother was… complicated, to put it delicately. So Mama Anabelle it is!”

“Well, thank you for the reminder. However I'd rather talk to a therapist about my mommy issues than a literal embodiment of the fear of being manipulated.” Martin rolled his eyes before realizing something and turning to Jon, “Would I be able to go to individual therapy or do you have to be there to make that dream therapy thing work?”

There was a beat of static as Jon Checks. “I'll probably need to drop you off and pick you up, but I don't have to be there the whole time.” 

“I can recommend a few who are wonderful at their job.” the Web chimed.

“I will have to refuse. Any avatar of yours would not be a good fit for either of us.”

“I know more than my avatars! Like Alex Torres from β103.”

“He already has a Martin Blackwood as a client. That would end up being confusing.”

“That’s right, there are other ‘us’s across the multiverse. That’s a bit disorienting to think about. What was that whole beta thing?” Martin asked their visitor.

“Ask your lover over there. He set up the classification system.”

“The Greek letter indicates how closely it resembles our original universe and the number indicates when in sequence we connected to that universe. β103 was the 103rd universe we connected to with only a few major differences from our original, or [α], universe. It helps me keep track of repeating variables like the 10,943 - no, make that 10,944, another just Became - Jonah Magnus that are avatars of the Eye and their subsequent institutes.”

“Are those universes in danger of going through what ours did?” Martin's eyes widened as he asked, guilt twisting in his gut. 

“I still can't see the future, but she-” he gestures towards the Web, who just sipped her tea with a smile, “-has no interest in another ritual. So, we don’t have her working against us. I’ve also taken a few precautions, primarily that the moment one of my avatars becomes, they have the intrinsic knowledge that a successful ritual would result in not only the remaking of the world, but its total destruction. It’s enough to keep most of my avatars from even attempting a ritual. It also spawned a number of Gertrude-like avatars who make it their mission to stop all attempts at rituals at all costs, which is yet another deterrent.”

“Oh yes, every Eye avatar who doesn’t heed the warning typically has 1-3 other Eye avatars on their arse trying to stop them. It helps that the ones who work to stop them have their patron’s favor. I'd say it would take a very special set of circumstances for any of our new worlds to face the apocalypse.” The Web added.

“That's good.” Martin sighed in relief, “So is there anything special about β103 or was that just the first non-Web therapist to come to mind?”

“Perhaps.” The Web’s grin was positively wicked as Jon groaned.

“The Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood of that universe have the most adorable coffee shop romance and she just wants a segue to tease me about it.”

“You’re joking?!” Martin looked between them, disbelief and excitement written all over his face. “We have a real, actual, coffee shop AU?”

“Yes, Martin. There are universes where we are never born, never meet, meet but never give each other the time of day, meet and become good friends, and ones where we fall in love. It runs the whole gambit.”

“Oh, you should have seen him while you were sleeping. We’ve gotten into a bit of a habit of watching the other yous as entertainment. Nothing too stalkery, he didn’t want to feed off them. Still, he cried every time those other yous started falling in love like they were his favorite soap opera couple finally getting together! And then he'd go curl up with you like a cat and cry for other reasons.”

“You are enjoying having someone to embarrass me to, aren't you?”Jon sighed. Martin took Jon’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. I was a wreck while you were in your coma. You weren't even my boyfriend at the time.” 

“Oh, you weren't that pathetic.” The Web laughed, “Sure, you started to fall into the Lonely in a weird suicide attempt, but all things considered you did remarkably well. You managed to trick Peter into thinking you were actually on his side! I mean he really believed in you and your potential as an avatar, though I think he had the entity wrong. Anabelle wasn't kidding when she said you'd do well as one of my children.”

“You are not filling him with spiders!” Jon’s voice reverberated through the space and the Web held up her hands in surrender.

“Oh, he is completely yours now, don't you worry about that. At this point I don't think any entity other than you can claim him with how deeply you've entwined yourself with him. I'm just stating what could have been.” She looked almost wistfully at Martin before standing up. “Well, I better get going now, the Recoil is getting a bit much and I have other matters to attend to. It was lovely to meet you Martin. You really do make as good a tea as he says.” She pulls Martin into an awkward hug.

“Right, thank you, ah, Miss Web. It was surprisingly pleasant talking to you.” Martin laughed nervously as he swore four more arms wrapped around him.

“Oh please dear, none of that ‘Miss Web’ stuff. Call me Mother, I promise to treat you better than your actual mother.”

“Just get out already. You are overstaying your welcome.” Jon ground out through his teeth. She smiled at him as she let go of Martin and instead pulled him into a hug.

“Love you too little hatchling. Be sure to visit me in my realm soon alright?” Then with a wave she sauntered out the door. 

“So… That happened.” Martin grabbed the tea mugs to wash them. Everything since he woke up has left him with something resembling whiplash at how much information he was receiving and how quickly the mood would shift. Tea and dishes were at least something normal. As Jon comes up behind him to hug his back, he thinks how even though Jon was never ‘normal’ he’s still the same person he fell in love with.

“Yes, that did happen. She and I are the only Fears with sapience, so by virtue of there being no one else to talk to in this place, she ends up harassing me to talk to her, and well, I can’t say I didn’t have a lot to learn from her about being an eldritch fear entity.”

“That makes sense. Though, she really took your mother’s form? She thought that would go over well?”

“More like she was trying to haze me. She had me believing this was the afterlife for a moment before I Knew what she was and where we were.” 

“Right, I actually wanted to know more about that. You’ve said a lot about this place that kind of makes sense, but I’ve seen very little of it. Mind giving me a proper tour of the place?”

Jon perked up and took Martin’s hand, “It would be my honor.”

Chapter Text

Bedroom, sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, all connected through various doors. It's not too big of a space, perfect for just two people. All of it shared that same cozy aesthetic. They chatted about color schemes and what kind of changes would suit the space.

“I’m serious Martin, just say the word and I can change the entire layout. We can look through some design booklets together and pick out anything we want. I can even add rooms if you want an office to write your poetry in or if you decide to take up another hobby.” 

“That’s amazing! But, it looks like there’s a lot more doors than just the ones to go from room to room.”

“It might be easier to think of them like Helen’s corridor doors, only instead of their destinations being up to her unknowable whims, we control where they go. Just think of the room you want to go to, open the door then you’re there. So no one door leads to any one destination. The same door can take you to the kitchen or bedroom.”

“And all of this is an archive?” 

“In an archive, yes. I haven’t shown you the archive portion yet. It’s, ah, a tad overwhelming at first. We can save that for later if you'd rather rest.”

“Overwhelming how? I'm not going to stare at a bookshelf and go insane, am I?” 

“No, no. Nothing quite that bad. It is, however, enormous. There is a constant stream of information entering and you are certainly welcome to anything you desire in there, but it might get difficult to keep track of where you are in there just because it's so massive.”

“Show me.”

The first thing Martin noticed was that the shelves seemed to go on for infinity. Books, files, tapes, even scrolls and stone tablets filled every shelf. 

“This is section δ478-Amanda Santiago. She’s an Archivist who took up Archeology and curated a massive museum in Andova, Atlantis. Of course, said museum has the most extensive archive in the world.” Jon spoke like a proud parent showing off their straight A student. 

“Huh, so she didn't just take statements, she found ancient records?”

“Yes! Her museum is also set up to harvest fear from its visitors. Eye iconography in the beams and walls so everyone feels watched - makes for great security too - and there are different experiences that people can sign up to go through. All very safe! Fear is the goal, not harm after all.” 

“So, ethically sourced fear so-to-speak?” 

“I mean, we can debate the ethics of feeding on fear until we are blue in the face, but as far as eldritch diets go, it could be far worse and this one has it down to a science.”

“Fair enough. You weren't joking about the size. I always felt like the stacks went on forever, but this is a whole other level.”

“And this is just one Archivist’s section. Every single one of my avatars in every universe has a section.”

“That's another thing I wanted to ask you about. You keep referring to them as your avatars, not the Eye’s. I know you mentioned fusing with it, but where does the Beholding end and you begin now?”

Jon sighed, “Honestly, at this point it's like asking where my body ends and my soul begins. It's a question to keep philosophers up at night. I've certainly worked on that existential crisis in therapy. I'm still me; I still have my personality and memories. The things that mattered to me still do. My emotions are the same, I love you, grieve for what I lost, and fear what the future may hold. The Eye didn't have a consciousness before that could even attempt to supplant my own. I have its hunger and power, as well as its desire to have copies of everything for my Archive. Did you know that's why it preferred tapes? It doesn't like how modern equipment didn't leave physical copies for archiving. Of course, tapes specifically were the Web’s influence on my life, but the not recording on laptops was the Eye. But back to the topic at hand, I am the Eye now. That's why I can't really enter any world without, well, a world ending ritual. Not completely anyway. It's like how Michael or Helen were never out of the corridors for long, but they were only an aspect of the Spiral, not the Spiral itself. Am I making sense?”

“As much as any of the eldritch fear entity stuff makes sense.” Martin shrugged.

“I'm sorry. We are in this situation because of me. I know you wanted a normal life away from the fears when it was all over.” 

“Yeah, I was hoping we could just live our life after, but that's the thing. I hoped we could live our life after, not just me. Since you're more a part of this mess than ever, I guess I am too. As long as you are still you, I want to be with you.”

Martin found his arms full of his boyfriend the second he finished talking. Jon had always been surprisingly tactile, but since Martin woke up it felt as if Jon thought if he didn't hug, kiss, and hold his hand as much as possible he would disappear. Maybe a part of him did, he was waiting for him to wake up for years at the least. 

“Martin, have I told you how incredible you are?” 

“I could stand to hear it more often,” Martin kissed the top of his head, “but I believe you were giving me a tour of the Archive. It's rather impressive that one Archivist's section is so huge. Did she really cause or witness so much fear?”

“Yes, but that's not all. It's her entire life story from start to finish. Of course, regular life events are a bit different than actual statements, since there is no statement giver involved. And rather short, as they don't really feed anything, it's just nice to have. Let me find a good one… here!”

Jon dug through a box for a moment and found a file with a small cat collar on the front. He held it out to Martin. He furrowed his brow and took the file from him. Immediately he heard the statement begin in Jon’s signature “reading a statement” voice.

Statement of Amanda Santiago regarding adopting the honorable Sir Pan, observed by the Ceaseless Watcher starting Pocienus 4th, 1993 ORY:

She found him in a place that certainly did not fit his noble status: a waste bin. She Knew why he was there, the mill his mother was unfortunately a part of couldn’t sell him because of the defect in his front leg; it was twisted and mangled, so they tossed him in. He was in quite a state from malnutrition and cold when she heard the desperate mews from the bin. She rushed him to the veterinarian as soon as she dug him out. They informed her that he had a very low chance of survival and if she wanted to save him it would involve amputating the bad leg and a rigorous feeding and antibiotic regime. 

As she held the small creature, she felt a burning rage at the people who had done this to him, but it was an unfortunate fact of her world that this was all too common of a practice and even if she gave the authorities the exact location of the mill, they would do nothing about it. So, if she called a particular animal-loving desolation avatar she was acquainted with later that evening, that was nobody's business but hers. And if the mill mysteriously went up in flames the next day that had nothing to do with her. 

The Eye was quick in informing her how to care for her new family member, from which bottles would be best for a cat his size and what formula was best for his nutritional needs. Between the vet and her patron, she was equipped with all the knowledge she needed to make sure he made a full recovery.

She took diligent care of the young kitten and soon he was healthy enough to get up to mischief. Since he was missing a front leg, he took to walking on his hind legs in a way that reminded her of satyrs. Between this and his penchant for jumping out and scaring people, Pan was a natural choice for his name. 

It’s fitting, in a way, for someone who feeds on fear to have a pet whose favorite hobby is scaring people, though Sir Pan’s brand of terror was more suited for the Dark or Hunt than the Eye. Regardless of his alignment, he took to his place of honor in the Archivist’s home as he was meant to do and enjoyed the love of his person and the fear of their guests for the rest of his days.

Statement ends.

It was odd to hear such a wholesome statement, but Martin supposed that is why Jon chose it. He also found it odd for the Eye to be as helpful as it was in the story, given how utterly unhelpful it could be in their universe. That is until he recalled his boyfriend is the Eye now.

“You would info dump about cat care into your avatar’s head.” Martin snorted. 

“She needed help and the vet was being far too general! She needed to know which bottles, not just that he’ll need to be bottle fed. I was helping.”

“I’m not criticizing, love. It’s just a very you thing to do.” Martin laughed.

“Of course it is. I’m still me. Shame we can’t get a cat. Unless you are okay raising a nightmare beast with me. Dream animals have a tendency to twist and warp into nightmares here.”  

“Really? Like how tea turned into spiders and bugs back at the cabin? Wait, if that's true, how is the home portion of this place so non-nightmarish? It even had proper tea!” 

“Nightmares and dreams exist on the same plane, so I used dreams to create our home. Static objects like furniture and decor tend to stay the same and don't have a will or consciousness to be transformed outside of my influence. I guess what I'm trying to say is I can control the environment inside my realm, I cannot control how beings react to being in my realm, if they can enter at all. Am I making sense?”

“Somewhat. Basically, inanimate objects are safe, living beings are not. Hang on, am I safe from this nightmarification stuff?” 

“Yes and no? It shouldn’t affect you more than it already has, that is. I don't think so anyway,” Jon babbled, wringing his hands and fidgeting.

“Jon. What. Does. That. Mean?” 

“You're… not exactly human anymore. You're somewhere between human and avatar, mine to be precise, yet more than either would imply. I might have near infinite knowledge at my fingertips but I don't know a good way to describe it.”

Martin looked thoughtful for a moment, “So… I’m not going to grow a bunch of extra eyes and pull fear from the depths of people's souls, right?”  

“No, no. Nothing like that. As I said, it shouldn't affect you more than it has. I mean, I can't see the future, but all the changes to your physiology happened rather quickly after we arrived and have remained the same the entire time you've been asleep. It is unlikely anything else will happen now that you're awake.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible.” 

“No, not impossible.” Jon stared down at his shoes as Martin sat with this information.

“Soooo do I have powers now?” 

“Does immortality count as a power?”

“Fuck off, I'm immortal?!” Martin looked down at his body in wonder.

“I meant it when I was talking about eternity earlier. It's like the myth of Eros and Psyche. Only instead of gods and ambrosia, it's entities and cosmic horror energy.” Jon chuckles nervously. Martin seemed to be taking everything in stride, but he knew Martin had a talent for, and tendency to act like nothing was wrong even when he was screaming on the inside. He wanted to Know so badly what he was thinking, but he had to respect Martin's boundaries.

Martin was, in fact, screaming on the inside. There was something about living forever that is just as, if not more, terrifying than contemplating your own mortality. He had assumed the whole, “you've been asleep for years to millennia” didn't affect him physically because of the “time not working properly” thing. It never occurred to him that he could be immortal. What does one even do with immortality?

He looks over at Jon, who is patiently waiting for him to react, and realizes that he isn't the only one who is going through this. Jon will live as long as there is the fear of knowledge and being watched in the multiverse. It's sort of romantic, getting to actually spend forever with your partner. Neither will have to worry about outliving the other. That brought Martin a little peace. 

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about going through eternity alone,” Martin finally said, “Eventually I’ll wrap my head around all this.”

“Yes, it can be quite overwhelming at first. I think the rest of the tour can wait. How about we do something normal for a bit? I’m in the mood to cuddle in the sitting room and read for a while. There’s a poet in γ092 that I think you would enjoy.” He summons a book for each of them.

“Since when do you pay attention to poetry?” Martin snorts as he looks over the title, “The Collective Works of Selena Flamma.”

“Normally no, but being the All Seeing Eye and having literally billions of avatars across the multiverse, a lot of stuff ends up in my Archive. This poet just happened to remind me of the type of things you would read on your breaks.” 

“Well Mister All Seeing Eye, lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Blake McCulligan was an ordinary psychologist. They worked as a therapist and went to school to get their doctorate and further their research career. However, starting three years ago things started getting weird in their life. Whenever they asked a question relating to their studies, they would immediately know the answer. It wasn’t just simple answers either; they had entire essays worth of information at their disposal, with proper citation. 

They were fairly certain they had never so much as glanced at some of the material that was cited, but a trip to the library always proved the information correct. Eventually they learned to just trust the information and finally had time to have a social life again. It was nice and their parents always told them to never look a gift horse in the mouth. If the strange info dumps were the only weird things to happen over the last three years, they would happily just take it in stride.

But three years ago is also when the dreams started.

 They happen every Friday night and always start the same. They are sitting in their office when there is a knock on the door. They open it to see a shorter man with long salt and pepper hair and scars littering his body. His name is Jonathan Sims, and he is a human turned eldritch fear entity with a metric ton of trauma. 

They don’t always remember the dreams when they wake up, and for that they are grateful. The memories of all the horrific things this man had told them about in previous sessions comes back to them as soon as they lock eyes and might drive them mad if they thought about it in the waking world.

From his childhood to literally ending his original world, he has told them his entire life story in gory detail. Bit by bit they’ve worked on overcoming his trauma and guilt, and they have seen quite a bit of progress, but he still always seemed like he was barely holding on to the last shred of hope in him.

That hope was his boyfriend.

He had expressed that one of the things he regretted most was betraying his boyfriend in the end and never even getting the chance to apologize properly. Said boyfriend had apparently fallen into a coma after they had been ripped from their reality, and Jon’s been waiting for him to wake up for, effectively, thousands of years. 

Sessions where they talked about Martin usually went one of two ways: productive discussions on how he can better communicate and be a better partner or complete body wracking sobs. Blake could usually tell what kind of session they would have by the look in Jon’s eyes (his main ones, he sometimes had more than two) when he arrived. Tired meant talking about his various issues and traumas, determined meant a productive Martin session, and if the eyes were already watery, then they might as well get the tissues ready.

They weren't sure what to expect when he showed up with a huge grin and a light in his eyes that they hadn’t seen before. They didn’t have to wait long to find out as he didn’t even step fully through the door before he announced the good news.

“He woke up!”

“I’m assuming you mean Martin?” Blake smiles as they usher him to the settee and he nods, “That’s wonderful! Were you able to tell him everything you wanted to?”

“Most of it. We are putting some of those discussions off until we find a couple’s counselor. Which he suggested by the way! I was so worried he’d just leave after realizing what I am, but he still wants to be with me and work on our relationship. I really don’t deserve him.”

“None of that. Your boyfriend decides who to give his affection to, it's not a matter of deserving it or not. But if you ask me you deserve to move past everything and be happy just like he does and I’m glad you’ll be able to work things out with him. Now, tell me everything.”

“I was curled up with him after watching the hundredth proposal between our alternate counterparts and just kind of wallowing in self pity for a bit, not like I had anything better to do. I can’t tell you how long I laid there before he shifted slightly. I thought for a moment I had imagined it until he started stroking my hair. He didn't want to wake up at first, but then we had tea, he met the Web, I showed him around, and when he seemed to be getting overwhelmed with everything we retreated to our sitting room to read and feel a little normal again. We’ve been talking about various things and planning to redecorate our living quarters. He seems to be adjusting fairly well all things considered.”

“That’s good. How did he react to you being an eldritch fear entity now? I assume he took it well?”

“Better than I dared to hope.”

“And you showed him what you actually look like now?”

Jon looked away and shifted in his seat. Blake knew that meant he had kept his human facade the whole time. It’s also likely he never even brought up his physical changes. 

“I’m not judging you Jon, dealing with dysmorphia is a process. Especially when it’s a result of trauma like yours is. I know you're scared that you'll frighten him, but it's better that he finds out on your own terms and not because you get distracted or he walks in at the wrong time.” 

Jon sighs. After becoming the Eye his physical(or metaphysical?) form had changed into that of a monster befitting his eldritch horror status. He had gotten the Web to teach him how to shapeshift (he’d had to acquiesce to the whole calling her mother thing), and though he can only shift between his current human form and his monstrous form, he was quite happy with the results. 

The tricky part is that maintaining his form can get difficult after a while. He had compared it to keeping an entire beach in a balloon, but he also said it was a gross oversimplification. He had taken to using his monster form to organize the archive for some relief, but mill around his home in human form. Martin could very easily walk into the archive while he’s cross referencing Dark statements from delta worlds and run away from him. Even if he stays human all the time, sometimes he slips and grows extra eyes or an extra limb. 

“I know you’re right Blake. It’s just hard to accept that part of myself. The worst part is I have felt it under my skin since I read that damn fake statement. The Eye became a part of me, and I it, the moment I opened the door. Martin is literally the only thing keeping me human. Without him I would have simply lost myself to the torrent of knowledge and instinct to feed. He’s my reason to retain my sense of self. I know we’ve talked about how that’s a lot to put on a partner and how I need to have my own sense of self worth, but I could not go through the rest of eternity without him. I’m the Eye, not the Lonely. I can’t be Jon unless I have Martin, and I like being Jon. The Eye likes the ability to reason and think, to understand. The Eye is the Archive and needs the Archivist. Jon is the Archivist but the Archivist doesn’t need to be Jon. Jon likes being Jon because Martin loves Jon and Jon loves Martin. Jon has a human mind that would wither with isolation if he lost Martin permanently. The Eye likes being Jon because Jon understands what the Eye could not before becoming Jon-”

“Jon, snap out of it!” Blake snaps their fingers in front of his face, causing Jon to jolt. The eyes that had begun appearing all over his skin blink and focus on them. “You’re referring to yourself in the third person again.”

“Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. I know thinking of the different parts of yourself as separate can help in understanding and communicating the whole, but you can’t lose sight of the fact that you are all of them. You are Jon. You are the Archivist. You are the Eye. Even if you think you don’t need to be, you are.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. I'm just… afraid. You think being an eldritch fear entity would make it harder for me to feel fear, but it doesn’t. I’m sure the Lonely has fed off me all this time just like I feed on its victims. It’s weird to think that we can feed off each other when we are all technically parts of the same whole. Is that autocannibalism? Not the point. The point is I’m scared of losing the only person I have left; the one I love more than anything else. I’m fortunate that I don’t have to worry about Terminus taking him, but he could still decide to leave in one way or another. I just hope I can give him enough reasons to stay.”

“Let’s unpack that. Why would he leave you?”

“Because I’m an eldritch monster who betrayed him and doesn't deserve him. Because he deserves a semi-normal life away from the fears.”

“But he’s willing to work things out with you and has given you no indication that he would prefer a normal life without you to continuing to be with you in the Nexus.”

“True. Quite the opposite actually. He has explicitly stated he wants to stay with me more than he wants a normal life. But he could still change his mind. Maybe after he sees the monster I’ve really become, or even more mundanely if the couple’s counseling doesn’t go well.”

“My experience as a therapist has taught me that you get out of counseling what you put in. As long as you are both willing to be forthcoming and understanding with one another and your counselor, it will go well. Well, barring having an awful counselor, but your eldritch Eye powers should help you root out bad ones.”

“At least it’s good for something.”

“As for your ‘monstrousness’ even with your powers you can’t know how he'll feel about it unless you talk to him yourself. You’ve told me you can’t see the future, so you just have to live it. You can tell and show him everything in your own time, you have eternity after all, but don’t make him have to find out the hard way.”

“We really do have eternity, him and I. Hell, even if he left my realm we would both still be immortal. Do you really think he'll be okay? He seemed to struggle with that idea more than others.”

“He's still human in mind and soul, so the concept of eternity is difficult. I think the existential dread at the length of his existence would probably fall under the Vast, if you want to take it from the fear angle. Research it, I mean. But if you support him through this, I’m sure he'll find eternity not so bad. Did he have any specific concerns, or was it just the shock and existential dread?”

“He didn't say. Well, he did say, ‘at least I don’t have to worry about going through eternity alone’ but nothing else about his concerns.”

“Not surprising after his stint with the Lonely. That is also something all the books with immortals tend to talk about. The inability to forge relationships due to the certainty that you will outlive them. I would prefer to use actual research and experiences as reference to help you, but in this case I’m afraid fiction is all I have. You are the only immortal I’ve met.”

“I guess this is just one of those things where only time will tell. Figure it out as we go and all that. I just wish I wasn’t so afraid of the future. While he was asleep I was afraid he would never wake up, and now that he’s awake I’m afraid he’ll leave. Will this ever go away?”

“Confidence comes with time. As long as both of you put in the work, you will gain confidence in your relationship and the fear will lessen.”

“Do you think I'm being ridiculous?” 

Jon hadn't meant to use compulsion, and flinched after asking. Blake rolled with it as the words came out of their mouth.

“Yes, I think you are being ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as anyone else in situations similar to yours. But being ridiculous is part of being a person. Just because you aren't human anymore doesn't make you less of a person, and you have a right to be ridiculous.”

Blake smiled at the sheepish eldritch horror. It's not the first time he compelled an answer out of them, and each time Blake took it in stride. They admitted to having a fear that he would Ask something personal one day or they would say something that would turn into a statement. However, if they had the power to make people be honest with them, they would use it far more than they should, so they can't really judge. Plus it's not like it hurts them. So they promised him that they wouldn't get mad at him as long as it wasn't a personal question. Doesn't stop him from expecting anger though. Yet another trauma response to work on.

A ringing resounds through the room, letting them know their time is up for this week. Blake walks to the door to open it for Jon. 

“Same time next week? I’m looking forward to hearing more about your relationship with Martin and how you're adjusting.”

“Thank you. I feel this has been helpful in deciding my next steps. And yes, same time next week.” 

Blake wakes up with no memory of their dream, but a smile on their face.

Chapter Text

While Jon is at his therapy appointment, Martin decides to explore their home on his own. Jon had said it was fine to do so, but to make sure he focused on a location before opening any door. Martin focused on the kitchen and entered.

The tour before showed him a general layout of each room, but didn't show him exactly where everything was stored. Fortunately, he just had to think about what he wanted, and he'd find it. He can tell he doesn't have the control over this space that Jon does, but the space is almost eager to accommodate him and give him what he wants or needs.

He tried a couple times to change things around the area, but it seems he'll need his boyfriend to do that. However, if he wants a book or blanket or really anything, he can make it appear exactly where he would expect it to be. Books on a shelf, tea in the cabinets, and snacks in the pantry. 

He tests this theory by checking an area, then deciding he wants something that he would expect to find there, but didn't the first time, then checking again. Every single time he would find what he was looking for the second go around.

Martin had mixed feelings about this. On one hand, it was convenient, easy, and kind of endearing that Jon made the space so responsive to him and his wants. On the other, he couldn't help but wonder if Jon was reading his mind, something he explicitly asked him not to do, in order to make this happen. It hurt to suspect him in such a manner, as that was one promise he had yet to break, but he didn't understand the mechanics of this world and Jon was only spoon feeding him answers. He gets why, but it's a little frustrating to receive the kiddy glove treatment.

As Martin ruminated over all this, a paper was slid under the door. It had his name on it, and a spiderweb pattern decorating its back making it very obvious who it's from.

Dear Martin,

I would like to invite you to visit me in my Realm. Since we are family now, I want to show you the rest of the Nexus and help you understand your own power and position. 

,Love      

Mother

Martin stared at the short letter. He may have made the in-law joke himself, but he knew better than to think she and Jon, and by extension himself, were actually anything resembling family. A part of him wanted to burn the letter and ignore her. That is probably the rational part of himself. He should at least wait for Jon to get home before he wanders out of the safety of their little pocket dimension.

Be it the Web’s influence or the other stupidly curious part of himself that has him reaching for the door, it doesn't really matter. Either way it ends up with him stepping out of his new home. 

“Ms. Web? Or, uh, Mother? Are you here?” Martin called into the expanse of webs. He shivers a little as he recalls being strung up in Annabelle’s webs back at Hilltop Road. 

“Martin, dear! Thank you for coming!” That sickeningly sweet voice calls back. Martin turns, expecting to see some form of elderly woman, maybe “mama Annabelle” again.

He barely manages to stop himself from screaming at what he does see.

Towering over him is a horrifying visage with eight eyes and legs, blood and viscera hanging off each limb like strings, undulating and ready to attach themselves to some unsuspecting victim. Behind her mandibles he can see a smile full of sharp teeth.

“I'm quite looking forward to showing you around. After all, the Nexus is as much your home as it is the rest of ours.” She continued as if he wasn't terrified and proceeded to pull him into a hug. Luckily she doesn't smell like anything in particular, but he knows he'll need to take a long shower once he's back home.

“R-right. Is it, um, alright to ask why…?”

“Why I'm not so maternal looking at the moment? Well dear, you might want to get used to scary things like me if you are going to live in the Nexus. After all, not all of my brethren can take human forms. This is also what's most comfortable.”

“Oh, um, right. You don't want to like, eat me or anything, right?”

“Oh, of course not dear. You know spiders don't eat their young. Though I would not carelessly wander without myself or your boyfriend though. I'm sure the Dark or the Hunt would gladly devour you should you cross their paths. Really any of our siblings would.”

“That… makes sense. Honestly I’m not surprised that Jon’s domain is an outlier in the spookiness department.”

“Oh? I suppose it would feel that way to you. You haven’t read much in his Archive, have you.”

“I mean, it’s probably not all that different from the statements back in our original universe. New spooks and stories, same fear. But I feel safe there.”

“I suppose. You worked for the Watcher most of your life, you are a little numb to the fear of being watched and known. I can assure you however, his realm is only kind to you. Most others are not so welcome.” 

“And yet you paid us a visit?”

“Of course. How else was I supposed to see you and my little hatchling? He may not like my presence, but I can withstand it. After all, we are equals now.”

“Right. Well as… creepy, as your realm is, you offered me a tour of the Nexus and understanding of my place here. I know time is weird here, but I’d rather be back home when Jon gets back so he doesn't panic.”

“Fair enough. The poor man already Knows you left, but in an attempt to keep his promises to you he keeps that from his conscious mind.”

She takes his arm and leads him through the spider webs. He deliberately does not look too hard at the things caught in the webs or the areas definitely not made of spider silk. Finally they reach an intricately woven door that she opens into a… space station? No, now it's an open field. Wait, now it's a giant tree. No it's….

The rapidly shifting landscape of the Nexus disoriented and confused him. He briefly wondered if they had stumbled into the Spiral’s realm before it settled into the sci-fi spacestation-like aesthetic he thought he had seen first.

“The Nexus doesn't have a solid form, and it differs for everyone every time they visit. I suppose the word Nexus does give some classic sci-fi vibes, doesn't it.”

“If it's always changing, will a tour even matter?” 

“If a friend is going to renovate their house, is it worth knowing the lay of it?”

“Alright, lead the way I guess.”

Martin followed behind her as he looked around. It appeared like an amalgamation of all the sci-fi space exploration settings he used to watch as a kid. Chrome and clinical white dominated the large area while a vast inky black expanse was visible though the windows.

“Are those the universes Jon was telling me about?” he points to the multitude of stars in view.

“In a sense. Everything here is malleable. Your perspective shapes it. Those lights are a metaphysical representation of how you think of the multiverse. Fitting that you think of where we are as an observation deck.” She mused.

“Like you said, Nexus has a classic sci-fi feel to it. Though are we sure we aren't in the Spiral’s realm? Between what happened when we entered and all the doors…”

There were an impossible number of doors along the wall opposite the windows. It looked like a monochrome version of the Distortion’s hallways. Space seemed to distort around them too, as if they aren't what they seem.

“Oh, doors are everywhere. Surely you noticed how many were in your home?”

“I mean, yeah. Jon compared them to Helen's doors except we control where they go.”

“Well, you have your answer.”

“I really don't…” Martin sighed. Is it really a Fear thing to be so damn cryptic?

“How did Jon describe this place?”

“A dream nexus. I kinda took that to mean we are in dreamland? Kinda like you would see in cartoons? I mean, calling forth the Fears leads the world to work on nightmare logic, so it doesn't seem like much of a stretch.”

“It's a shame you never actually studied parapsychology. It would have made this so much easier to explain.” The Web casually spun some silk.

“Well sorry, I never had the opportunity to turn that particular lie into reality.” Martin snarked. His lack of education was still a bit of a sore spot and he'll never not be grateful that Jon never held it against him. Having it thrown in his face now of all times rubs him all the wrong ways.

“Oh hush, I'm just saying it'd be easier to explain if you already had a foundation. You've done well even without a degree. Now, almost every sentient creature across the multiverse shares one thing in common, the ability to dream. Dreams are essential to the mind and soul of a being to help them process their experiences and emotions. They also produce an energy byproduct that coalesces into a metaphysical space. With me so far?”

“Sort of? All I'm hearing is that this is actually a dreamland.”

“It's more than that, but you aren't wrong. Less a dreamland and more the dreamland, ever since we expanded out to the multiverse that is. My strands have reached out and connected the collective unconsciousness on a multiversal level, which evolved into this liminal space.” she held a web between her tarsus claws as a visual.

“Okay, I've heard the term liminal space before, but I'm starting to think it has a meaning I don't know.”

“Transient, the space in between, etc etc. That's actually where the doors come in. Doors are the perfect metaphor as they simultaneously connect and separate a space. Every door leads to a part of this greater collective. It could be an individual’s dream, a realm of something greater, or even connect to the physical realm. You have that control in a way the rest of us don't. We can't enter the physical realm without repercussions. Repercussions you know well. But you still have a physical body, albeit one that has been modified for existence in a metaphysical space. You can explore any of it that you desire.”

“So that's what Jon meant. But why are you telling me this? What do you have to gain?” Martin narrowed his eyes, as if he could gauge her intentions from sight alone.

Her answering grin told him nothing, and he found himself pulled into yet another hug. He realized then that she had made no attempts to attach her bloody strings to him, only pulling him in with her, admittedly still creepy, spider arms. 

“Oh, dear one. Maybe I already have what I want. My plans worked exactly the way I wanted them to, in large part thanks to you. Maybe I feel rather magnanimous in my victory and want you and Jon to be able to enjoy the spoils as well. After all, there is plenty to go around.” She gently runs a claw through his hair. If he didn't know any better he could actually believe she is being genuinely affectionate. 

“Those are some big maybes. And sorry if I find it hard to believe the literal Fear God of Manipulation wants to tell me I have these ‘special’ abilities and doesn't want anything from me.” he huffs.

“Have you considered the fact I'm not the Lonely?” Martin flinches at the words and tries to pull away, but she tightens her grip. “I was the only Fear with sapience for so long. I had no one to talk to. No one who could understand me, that is. Maybe understanding is what I get out of this. I am certainly not like humans where it's integral to my health, but I, of all Fears, am not immune to the desire for connection.”

“I wish I could trust that. But I don't have a better theory, or really a way of stopping you if you did want something from me.” he tries to gesture to her strings, but he's still being held tightly. She seems to understand anyway.

“Oh, Jon would never speak to me again if I so much as grazed you with my strings. And I do mean never, that boy can be so stubborn.”

“You are absolutely right.” Jon’s voice rang out behind them. “I can be very stubborn and petty.”

Chapter Text

“Jon! How was therapy?” The Web smiled and gave Martin one last squeeze before releasing him from her hug.

“Helpful.” He glared at her while pulling Martin to his side. “Though I’m rather miffed that you decided to show Martin around without me.”

“The opportunity presented itself. Besides, it was either invite him out with me or let him stumble around by himself trying to understand how these things work. It's safer if he has one of us around until he gets used to it here.”

“He would have been fine without you if he stayed in our home.”

“And he is still right here!” Martin reminded them. Jon looked apologetic, but the Web simply rolled all eight of her eyes.

“No one forgot you were here, Martin. I'm just dealing with your boyfriend being jealous that I got to take you out before he did.”

“Jealous isn't the word I’d use…” Jon grumbles. Martin stifles a giggle.

“Still, has it really been an hour? I was hoping to get back before you were done.” Martin attempts to redirect the conversation.

“My therapist is already awake and started their day. Did you not want me to know about this?” Jon felt a twisting in his gut before Martin rushed to explain.

“Oh no, I absolutely intended to tell you everything when you got back, but I didn't want to freak you out by having you come back to an empty home. Besides, she was just showing me around. Though I'm not sure how much good that will do with an ever changing landscape.”

“More than you think, less than you would hope. She can be a decent guide when she wants to be ” 

“And I do!” The Web chimed in. “Why wouldn't I? I want to get to know my little hatchling’s boyfriend.” 

“I hate it when you call me that.” Jon grumbled.

“Well, it's what you are. I took great care in making you what you are, like a parent raising a child, and it's rather on brand for a spider to call their child a hatchling, isn't it?” She caressed his cheek with her claw as she spoke. He flinched slightly, but otherwise held firm.

“I'd rather you keep your sick affection to yourself. Martin, did you want to keep exploring? And do you mind if I tag along?” Jon took his boyfriend's hand.

“Well, I've barely seen anything other than her realm and this observation deck, so I figure there is a lot still to see. And of course you can come, but are you sure you want to?” Martin eyed the Web, who was smiling a horrifically sweet smile behind her mandibles. He knew Jon was probably not keen to spend more time with her than he has to, especially when she’s all spidery.

“I always want to spend time with you. Besides, I wanted to be the one to show you around before someone beat me to it.” Jon glared at the Web as she laughed.

“Like I said, jealous. Though, you do realize having both of us around makes it harder to show him anything pleasant, right?” 

“Then maybe you should bugger off.” Jon grumbles.

“Oh, come now, don't be like that. There's one place we can take him that's generally pleasant.” 

“Okay, what are you two talking about?” Martin huffed.

“The Fears aren't the only Entities in play here.” Jon explained, “Though Mother and I are still the only ones with proper sapience, the rest do have varying degrees of sentience. Although they are more akin to forces of nature than beings, metaphysical forms not withstanding, and each have their own realms. It's difficult to enter an Entity's realm when they don't want you there unless you are powerful enough to resist the Recoil, and even then it can get to be a bit much. Needless to say, many of the more pleasant Entities do not like to have a single Fear in their realm, much less two. And unless you want to trappize around actual people's dreams, a realm would be the best option.” 

“That might be a bit invasive… although we’ll be doing that for counseling won’t we…” Martin frets.

“We won’t be trappizing through random people’s dreams! We will enter our chosen counselor's dream and discuss scheduling and compensation.” Jon pouts indignantly.

“That’s fair, I guess. Still feels a bit weird. Um, Ms- I mean Mother, you had a place in mind?”

“Yes, I was thinking we could show you Elysium.” 

Jon’s grip on Martin's hand tightened. Jon had a conflicted expression that immediately made Martin suspicious.

“What's Elysium? And why there in particular?”

“It's the Land of Reunion, especially with loved ones who have died. It's generally a happy and pleasant place with lush fields and a gorgeous lake. However, it's not unilaterally pleasant, it can be bitter and unhappy, therefore our presence won't be as heavily rejected, even with the two of us.” the Web answered smoothly, never losing the sickly sweetness.

“Its themes of existence after death and the general aesthetic is why we call it Elysium, after the Greek afterlife. I… I don't particularly like visiting there, but she is right; it would be the easiest place to go for now. We'd just need to avoid the spectres.” Jon sighed. 

“Wait, are they actually the deceased? Like, their souls?” Martin wondered. Is this actually the afterlife?

“It’s what's left of their cognition, so in a way, yes. After all, what is a soul but the energy that fuels and is generated by your cognition? However, they can't take form unless you have some connection to them. So I’m sorry if you were hoping to meet any famous poets while we’re there.”

Martin laughed as Jon led him to an opulent door with golden trim and pearl inlay. He was pretty sure it wasn’t there a few moments ago, but he was starting to get used to that feeling. The Web flung the door open and they stepped through to a gorgeous field of the most verdant green Martin had ever seen. The grass looked soft, and every now and then he’d see a rosemary bush.

Martin was surprised to see patches of pink full of carnations, camellias, and zinnias. He knew those flowers in those colors shared themes of longing, remembrance, and affection. How poetic in a place supposedly of reunion. Now he’s dragging Jon over to the flowers.

“Jon! Look at them! Everything here is so vibrant! I can’t remember the last time I saw flowers like these!” 

Jon smiled at him. It had been a while since he had seen Martin this excited. It’s a good look on him, and it makes him glad they came. He mentally adds a vase he can fill with flowers to their sitting room. 

Martin runs his fingers over the petals and they are so soft and smell so nice. He was explaining to Jon their symbolism as he watched Jon pick some of the flowers and start fiddling with them.

“... It's so beautiful here Jon, why don't you like it?” Martin finally asked as he sat amongst the flowers.

“It's not that I don't like the landscape…” Jon trailed off, looking around but never stopping his hands.

“He would rather avoid a particularly explosive former friend.” The Web answered for him. “He likes to spend time by the lake though, so we should be fine.”

“A particularly explosive former friend? Who…oh.” Martin realized. Tim. Tim was here, in this land, and he never forgave Jon, not even in his final moments.

“The only other person I can reunite with here is my grandmother and while she's kind, it's just as strained as it was when we were alive. After seeing Tim again and getting into yet another shouting match with him I just stopped coming here.”

“Only Tim and your grandmother? What about Sasha or Daisy?”

The question made a pained expression flit across Jon's face and Martin almost took it back. Martin needed to know, though, if there was any hope of seeing Sasha again.

“No. Sasha was erased fully from everyone who loved her’s mind, so there isn't enough of her to manifest. As for Daisy…”

“If you want to see what's left of her you'd have to go to the Hunt’s realm.”

Jon flinched at the Web’s harsh words delivered still in the sickeningly sweet tone. Martin places a hand on Jon’s shoulder and rubs it soothingly.

“I'm guessing she isn't really herself there?” He asks.

“No, she's more a part of the Hunt than ever. Not in the same way I'm the Eye, but in the way that it wholly consumed her like it had before she died. I couldn't bring her back then, and I can't now.” Inky black tears began to fall from his eyes and Martin was quick to wipe them away.

“Oh Jon. I'm sorry.” Martin pulled the smaller man into his lap and felt as he relaxed into him.

“You don't have to apologize, Martin. None of this is your fault.”

“Still, I feel bad for asking.”

“I would have told you eventually either way. It's not a secret. I’m just happy you're here. Maybe we can come back sometime, just the two of us, and I can introduce you to my grandmother.”

“Oh! You don't have to! I mean, would she even like me?” 

“She already knows about you, and would be very cross with me if I didn't introduce her to the man I intend to marry.”

Martin blushed and looked away. It's not as if talking about getting married is new to them. One joke about eloping as they made their way to Scotland and suddenly they were planning their dream wedding and ending the conversation with, “Well, maybe we should go on a proper date first.” 

Now Jon has been devoted to him for an unmeasurable amount of time and Martin is considering what Jon said about marrying him on the spot if that's what he wanted.

Jon reaches up and places the flower crown he had been making on Martin's head. Martin startles out of his thoughts and looks down at his boyfriend who has such a loving look on his face.

“You’re beautiful.” Jon states like it's just a fact of life. Sugar is sweet, grass is green, and Martin is beautiful.

“Ye-yeah? Does it suit me?” Martin isn't sure he could blush any harder than he is now.

“Like a prince.” Jon pecks his lips. “My prince.” 

Turns out he can blush harder.

“A fitting title. A king and his prince-consort, straight out of a romance novel!” The Web cooed. They jump at the sudden reminder of her presence.

“Yeah, coming back here just the two of us sounds lovely.” Martin says as he buried his face in the crook of Jon's neck.

Jon laughed, “Good. I’d rather like for you to meet your actual in-law at some point.” 

Martin frowns. “I’d rather you don't meet yours if I'm being honest. Is… is she even here?” 

Static fills the air for a moment. “Yes.” Jon takes a deep breath. “If you don't want to see her you don't have to. I want to introduce you to my grandmother because even though our relationship is strained, that's because she never got to truly just be my grandmother before her death and it's too late now. Ultimately it's still a loving relationship. Your mother on the other hand…”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe someday I'll talk to her, but I don't think I can right now.” He tightened his grip on him just a fraction.

“Alright. And when that time comes you can decide if you want me there or not. I'll respect your decision.” 

“Hate to break this up, but I figure you would like to be warned before you're tackled.” The Web casually says, as if talking about the weather.

“Wha-” Martin barely gets out before a large black dog tackles them to the ground. Its tail is wagging and gives Jon a big lick, as if happy to see him.

“Yes, hello Mx. Ely, how are you?” Jon reaches up to scratch behind its ears. 

“Mx. Ely?” 

“Meet the Entity that rules this realm. I call it Elysium or Ely for short. It took something of a liking to me despite my Eldritch Horror status. Probably because I meet the conditions to be here despite being just as powerful as it. It probably realized I was here when I used my powers just now.” 

“It's cute. But what do you mean by conditions?”

“May I explain this one?” The Web asked. Jon nods as he tries to coax the dog off.

“Well you see, each of us is representative of concepts and emotions. Obviously, Jon, myself, and the rest of our siblings represent aspects of fear, but we so much more than that. We cover the range of negative cognition. From anger to apathy, it's covered in our lovely color wheel of negativity. Other Entities are similar with other aspects. So it stands to reason that our realms are mainly accessible to people who fit our values. Jon has people he misses, longs to reunite and reconcile with, even if he doesn't know how. Therefore, he fits Elysium's values, as do you. I, on the other hand…” 

She reaches out to Ely as if to pet it. Ely lets out a warning growl.

“The only ones I care about are sitting right in front of me. I don't long for a previously impossible reunion, so Elysium doesn't like me. This whole time it's been trying to push me out. I'm just strong enough to hold my ground.”

“Oh.” Jon has successfully coaxed Ely off of them, so Martin is able to sit up again. “Um, other than the Fear aspects, what else do you represent?” 

“Helplessness, mainly. We Fears still overlap in these areas as well, but a lack of willpower, is another desirable trait. Gullible little flies are always welcome in my webs. But Jon and I can invite people into our realms even if they don't meet the requirements, or rather we can if we have a certain threshold of fondness for them, so don't worry. You are always welcome in our realms regardless of any other requirements. You're not just some dreamer after all.”

“Oh, does that mean we'll have visitors from time to time?” Martin directs the questions at Jon, who is waving goodbye to Ely.

“In the Archive, yes. There are a few in there now. I usually just let them wander and read until they wake up. Very rarely I'll step in and help them find what they’re looking for. You don't have to worry about strangers in our home, they aren't allowed. Speaking of which, we should probably return. I'd like to talk to you privately about some things.” He sends a glare towards the Web and Martin nods.

“Sounds good, I'm getting a bit tired anyway. Thank you for showing me around, Mother.” He tries to go for a handshake but ends up getting pulled into yet another hug.

“Don't be a stranger! And remember that you can always come visit me. You don't even have to knock.” She gave him a firm squeeze before going and hugging Jon who suffered through it until he was released. Then she opened a webbed door and left them in the field.

“So, what about you?” Martin asked as they walked towards an old oak door.

“What about me?” Jon asked back.

“What other negative qualities or concepts are you supposed to represent?”

“I'll tell you what, if you can get it in three guesses, our next outing can be to the poetry section of the Library of Babel and I'll listen to you read or analyze any poems you want.” 

“Oh, you are on.”

Chapter Text

Guessing games are something they used to do for fun a lot during the quieter times. Twenty questions, I spy, just meaningless little pastimes that made their journey a little less miserable. Now Martin is trying to guess at something about his boyfriend's new situation.

 “Can you give me a hint?” Martin asks as they step into the sitting room.

“Later. Let’s get comfortable first, then we have some things to discuss.” 

Martin sighs, put out, but good at waiting, “Fine. I do need a bath. Join me?”

Jon smiles softly and nods, taking Martin's hand as they head into the bathroom. They had bathed together often in Scotland, and in Upton house (Jon wishes he could remember his time there). Like much of their casual intimacy, it started as a counter to the Lonely that still lingered around Martin, but steadily became routine enjoyment.

Now as they strip and fill the tub, there is no fear. The Lonely can't take Martin from him even if it tried. The only one who can is Martin himself. The thought fills Jon with warmth.

“Penny for your thoughts, Love?” Martin asks as he wraps his arms around him from behind.

“Hmm, not exactly a fair trade since currency is meaningless here and thoughts are literally everything.” Jon turns to nuzzle his face into his boyfriend's chest.

“You know what I meant.” Martin huffs as he kisses the top of his head. Jon hums happily.

“Just thinking about how happy I am to have this again. To have you, here, with me forever. I mean, you could still choose to leave. Nothing is stopping you from deciding I'm an abomination that you can't forgive and leaving to start a new life somewhere else without me-” Jon's ramblings are cut off with a kiss.

“You're catastrophizing again.”

“Right. What I meant was, barring you leaving, nothing can take you away. Not the Lonely, not death, nothing. Our relationship started with so much fear, but now as long as you want this too, we can just be.”

“I do want this, Jon.” Martin ran his fingers through Jon's hair, trying to pour every ounce of the sincerity he felt into his words and action. “I want you, forever. Now let's get into that bath, it looks absolutely wonderful.”

It was wonderful. The bath was spacious and deep enough that Martin could submerge his whole body in the water. Said water was the perfect temperature to soothe aches he didn't even realize he still had.

Martin took his time scrubbing himself off. He didn't seem to have any of the dirt and grime of the apocalypse, nor the blood and viscera of the Web's affection on him, but he still felt like he was finally washing all of that off. 

Jon sat behind him and began to wash his hair and back. He relaxed into the familiar touch.

“I missed this.” Jon sighed contentedly.

“Bathing together?” 

“Yes. But more than that just being together. Being able to show and say how much I love you.”

“Mmm. I did notice you being very tactile since I woke up.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Jon sounded so genuinely sad and worried Martin turned and gave him a reassuring peck on the cheek.

“No, Love. I'm very much enjoying this. But since the apocalypse began you withdrew a lot. You didn't initiate any physical contact until I almost got lost in that Lonely domain, and even then, it was just holding hands.”

“Ah, yes. That's…” Jon took a deep breath. “I like this. I like touch, but only when I feel like I have permission. It's easier when the other person initiates, because then I know I have their permission. I'm more comfortable with you than I ever thought possible and I feel like I can take the initiative more, especially since I know you won't push for more than I'm willing to give. However, after I started- after I was used to start the apocalypse, I didn't feel like I could permit myself that comfort. Partly because I didn't feel I deserved it, but also because I didn't want to give that place a chance to ruin it. It turned tea into horrors and always seemed to butt into our games; I didn't want it to do that to touch too.”

“I understand.” Martin took the shampoo and soap so he could wash Jon's hair and back. “I'm glad you feel comfortable doing this again. I missed this too. And I'm also really happy you were able to tell me that. Therapy has really worked for you.”

“It has. Communication skills were one of the main things I told Blake I wanted to work on.” Jon melted into Martin as his fingers lightly scratched his scalp.

“Is Blake your therapist’s name?”

“Yes. They are very good at what they do, which is one of the reasons I chose them. Actually choosing a therapist is the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I was wondering. Other than being good at their job, what other things do we have to consider?”

“Very little that actually has to do with the therapist themself. It's more consideration of cultural differences and whether they have the concepts that need to be discussed.”

“Oh? So what, some concepts just don't exist in some worlds?”

“Mmhm, and some have concepts that didn't exist in our world. At least, not outside of fiction. For example, as wonderful as Blake is, I wouldn't recommend them to someone who struggles with gender dysphoria.”

“Really? I mean, I kind of assumed they were an enby from the fact you use they/them pronouns for them.”

“In our world they would be considered non-binary, but in their world they very much fit what is essentially their gender binary. Our concepts of agender and genderfluid would be the closest approximation to their 2 genders. Effectively, you either experience gender or you don't. Genitalia and hormones have nothing to do with it.”

“So they wouldn't have the concept of trans or non-binary identities because the binary is so broad and has nothing to do with biology.”

“Exactly. Dysmorphia is still a thing, but that’s different and not typically connected to gender for them. Blake was horrified when I told them about our world’s assigned gender at birth system. Called it something out of a dystopian novel, then asked me some very pointed questions about paedophilia and why we believe it necessary to announce our genitalia to the world.”

“That seems a bit extreme. Most normal people don't think about other people's genitals outside of sexual situations.”

“And we can say that because we grew up in a world where it's normal to be sorted by our biology without thinking about it. However in their culture even the knowledge of someone else's body is inherently sexual, the only exception being in a clinical setting. The fact that we treat that with any level of casualness is strange to them. For example, if someone yelled out that they have a penis in a train car, they will get odd looks and glares, but unless they actually drop their pants it would hardly be newsworthy. In Blake’s world? It’d be a headline about how someone sexually harassed an entire train.”

“Huh, I guess changing how a world views gender changes other things too. Hold on, changes like that would create entirely different language systems. How do you talk to them?”

“Dream logic. The space works as a multiversal translator. Even outside of that I've had the ability to understand other languages since I became the Archivist. If it's in my Archive, I can understand it.”

“Right, you recorded that French statement once. And that will work for me too?”

“In dreams, yes. It's an almost perfect translation that takes into account intent and slang. Honestly the only reason gender came up with Blake is because they noticed slight differences in the way I said the pronoun for adult. If you decide you want to explore the physical realm I could give you that ability, but, ah, I'm not sure how you feel about having Fear powers.”

“Would I have to pull trauma from the depths of people's psyches in compensation?”

Martin hadn't meant for the question to come out in a harsh or accusing way, but Jon flinched and curled in on himself. A few stray eyes popped in and out of existence over Jon's skin, and all of them looked at him in hurt. Martin was about to apologize, but Jon shook his head.

“I would never ask that of you. You know that right? I would never put you through what I went through, even if I had to fight every instinct in me to do so. Being the Eye doesn't change the memories of how awful it was.”

“Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. I just…” Martin hesitated, unsure of his words, “I’m sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. I know you just wanted to know if it would have the same price as before. I overreacted.”

“No, you didn't. I should have thought about the fact that it's you giving me these powers, not a barely sentient Entity that mindlessly consumes fear.” 

“It's only natural you ask, it wouldn't be the first time I made you do something you didn't want to.” Jon rubbed the scar that Martin had been purposely avoiding looking at. 

Martin looked at it now though, and felt a wave of guilt crash over him. He had never wanted to hurt Jon, yet there was the evidence that he did among all the others. 

The fact that Jon didn't seem to blame Martin in the slightest only made it worse.

“May I…?” Martin asked, hovering his hand over the scar.

Jon nods. He isn't sure where Martin wants to go with this, but at this moment he’s willing to give Martin anything he asks for and trusts him not to take advantage of that.

Martin ran his fingers over the raised skin. He can still hear Jon’s pained gasp and feel the way he went limp in his arms. For him, it might as well have been yesterday. He knows Jon has had more time to process and work through his feelings about what happened, but the fact that he can look at Martin with such love and adoration after everything is both a relief and a concern.

He looks at the scar Daisy left and remembers what he said about not forgiving her. He wonders if it’s the same for him. Maybe Jon doesn’t forgive him, but loves him enough to ignore it. He has no way of knowing unless he asks.

He can’t bring himself to ask.

“I suppose this is a good reminder of why we need counseling.” Martin sighs.

“Did… we need a reminder?” Jon asked, confused.

“I mean, you probably didn't Mr. Knows-Everything-in-the-Multiverse-” Martin pressed a kiss to Jon's cheek to show he’s just teasing, “-but it's always an option to just do nothing, and it's really easy to keep putting off the important stuff when living in what can easily be called domestic bliss for the last however long.”

Jon visibly preened at the words domestic bliss. That's exactly how he wanted to live with Martin, so to hear him say it made his heart feel like bursting. However, Martin wasn't done.

“But that's how things get bad. Ignoring the hurt and problems until they ruin everything is how relationships end. Ignoring the hurt doesn't make it go away, it just makes it come out when you don't want it too. We are putting a lot off right now that we need to talk about. I'm putting off a lot of questions and things I need to talk to you about.”

Martin can't help but think of how his own family fell apart. He may not remember his dad very well, but he remembers the arguments that would last for hours followed by even longer silences. How before that everything seemed fine. How it was the small things that would start those arguments. How somehow Martin messing up on a test would lead to arguing about where his father was last month when he was unreachable. How a dirty dish led to an accusation of stolen medicine. How every little mistake would unravel into screams and accusations and hurt that refused to stay buried. Until his father couldn't take it anymore, walked out the door, and never came back. Martin felt himself shake. No tears fell, those had long since dried up, but it still hurt. It hurt so damn much.

Jon took his hands and rubbed soothing circles into the backs of them. He coaxed him into taking deep breaths and eventually Martin stopped shaking. Jon cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes. Martin seems to have calmed down considerably.

“Is now a good time to say I have a stack of couples counselors and individual therapists’ profiles sitting on the coffee table for you to look over and choose from? I can make some tea and grab some fluffy blankets and we can talk about anything you need to?” Jon’s voice was so soft and uncertain.

Martin just snorted and kissed him, because what else is he supposed to do when his boyfriend was this bloody sweet?

Chapter Text

After finding some joggers and the softest jumper he’s ever felt in the frankly massive “closet” that Jon showed him to, he came into the sitting room to find his boyfriend with two steaming cups of tea next to two stacks of papers. Blankets that look just as soft as his jumper are draped over the back.

“What even were all those clothes? It felt more like a showroom than a closet.” Martin asked as he sat next to Jon on the loveseat and started getting comfortable.

“I've had a few avatars in the fashion industry. The design drafts are in the Archive, but I wanted samples as well. Those are all the ones I thought would look good on you, tailored to your size.” Jon brought the blankets around them and snuggled up close.

“You filled that entire room with clothes you thought would look good on me? Wait, before that, did you say your avatars designed those clothes? Do you have Avatars in every field?”

“Most academic and creative fields, at least. All creative fields are rife with the fear of being watched or judged. Even the performative ones. And academia is an obvious choice for one of mine, be it an Archivist or other avatar. Oh, and while I do have therapists among my avatars, none of the ones here are. It felt too much like a conflict of interests. Hard to be objective when one of them, for better or worse, is the being that gives your powers.”

“Right.” Martin turned his attention back to the stacks of papers. “So, we talked a little about it earlier, but how did you select our candidates? There had to be more to it than cultural factors, otherwise these stacks would be huge.”

“Right, well, after cultural considerations, there was competency, receptiveness, and ability to compensate.”

“Competency I get, but receptiveness and ability to compensate?”

“By receptiveness I mean how willing they would be to have us as clients. There are obvious reasons why someone might not be keen to have us in their head-” Jon gestures to his glowing neon green eyes, a permanent reminder of what he has become even when he looks human, “-and less obvious reasons. So after eliminating those from the equation, I looked to see how I could compensate them. The influence I can exert in the physical realm is limited, so paying them with their local currency isn't really an option. There is a reason I chose a student for my therapist.”

“Right, you're paying them with that eldritch cheat sheet stuff. And they all have situations that you can help them with by using your powers?”

“Essentially, yes. It differs a little from person to person, but I’d be able to compensate them to some extent for their services.” 

“I see. So are they all students or…?”

“Some of them. Some I can help with my limited influence. Make certain information come to light and the like. But no need to let the compensation dictate whether or not you choose them. I won't be doing anything particularly awful nor do any of them desperately need my help. Given time and effort they could resolve their situations on their own.”

Martin sighed as he flipped through the profiles. There went that way of narrowing it down. Martin just isn't sure how he's supposed to choose. He's thought about therapy a lot over the years, but never had the time or energy. He doesn't even know how to begin choosing one. What is he looking for exactly?

“How did you end up choosing Blake?” he asks, hoping to get an idea.

Jon thinks on it for a moment, “Honestly? I'm not sure. I just went through the candidates and they were the one who stood out most to me.” 

“So you picked your therapist based on vibes?” Martin laughed.

“It worked out didn't it!” Jon huffed and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, for once in your life your impulsive streak worked out for you. That just doesn't help me figure out what I'm looking for in our therapist, or mine for that matter. I'm not even sure how to go about this.” 

“Well, maybe you should try picking based on ‘vibes’ as you put it. If it doesn't work out there are always other ones. We have eternity after all, it's not as if we’ll run out of time if the first therapist isn't perfect.” 

“Even if it takes several tries? You won't get tired of constantly having to start over? Even if it feels more and more pointless every time?” 

Jon uncrossed his arms and shifted so he was in Marin’s lap. He wrapped his arms around his neck and settled against his chest when he felt his boyfriend wrap an arm around his waist.

“Nothing is ever pointless if it's with you. Not to me. I know when we first met I made it seem like if everything wasn't perfect the first time it wasn't worth it, but that wasn't true then and it isn't true now. I was so happy when you suggested counseling because that meant you wanted this to work despite what I had done. As long as you are willing to do this, I don't care how long it takes. It might be old news to me at this point, but I don't take eternity lightly. I don't take ensuring we can spend it together lightly.” 

Martin tightened his hold on Jon and buried his face in his neck. He would very much like to not get emotional right now, thank you very much.

“Dammit Jon, how do you always say exactly what I need to hear? You aren't reading my mind, right?”

“No, I've kept that promise. The most I've Known about you was where you were when I came home and you were out with the Web. Your section in my Archive is completely cordoned off.”

“My section?! I have a section?!” Martin pulled back to look at Jon. Jon simply smiled back, amused.

“You served the Eye didn't you? You may have never been a full avatar, but you were still one of its people. Still are in a sense, I can still feel that connection. It’s how I could share my power with you if you wanted me to. Even without the exchange of power it stays firmly rooted within us, unsevered. After all, you refused to gouge out your eyes and run away with me.”

“I still maintain that it was a stupid plan, even if I know you were serious about it now. But that's not what's important right now. So anyone connected to the Eye has a section. What does my section being ‘cordoned off’ have to do with you not looking in my head?”

Jon shifts uncomfortably. “That's a bit, ah, embarrassing to admit, but my realm is an extension of me? My Archive is a metaphysical representation of my mind, and by making your section difficult to access, it stops my conscious mind from knowing things about you that I haven't learned the normal way. Subconsciously I know it all though; I unfortunately can't stop that, but in practice it's not that different from ‘having a feeling’ about something. I can get an inkling that you need something, but it's up to me to figure out what.”

“Is that why when I want something our home just puts it where I would expect it? Your subconscious reacts to the knowledge and provides it without you having to do anything?” 

Jon blushes and nods. He should have expected Martin to figure out that feature when he left him alone for an hour. His research was always unpolished, but thorough. 

Martin sat with the information for a bit. Now that he knows how it works, he thinks he'll stick with his initial assessment of finding it adorable that his boyfriend is so eager to make him happy. He’d never had anyone care about him this much.

Martin was the one always taking care of others. His mom, his coworkers, the few friends he had over the years. He didn't mind that, he liked taking care of people. It was how he showed he cared, but those people never did the same for him. After his first encounter with Prentiss was the first time someone took care of him. That's when he fell in love for the first time. 

They never discussed when their feelings developed, not wanting to dwell on lost time. Now Martin wonders when Jon went from thinking of him as his annoying assistant that he begrudgingly cares about to someone he would choose over a multiverse. That could probably be a statement of its own.

“So, silly question. Do you have a section?” 

Jon hums affirmatively, “All of us do, except for Melanie, though you can kind of tell where she used to have one. And Georgie, but she never had one to begin with.”

“Right, and is your section labeled? I don't want to be exploring the Archive and end up there by mistake.”

“With name, birth and death dates, universe number, and type of avatar, if applicable. All sections are labeled like that, I made sure of it. I don't mind though, if you do decide to poke around there. Anything in my Archive is yours to explore.”

“Jon, no. That wouldn't be fair. You're literally doing everything in your power to give me some privacy in my own mind. I can't just go rooting around in yours!” 

“You don't have to if it would make you uncomfortable, but everyone has different boundaries and it doesn't make your boundaries any less valid just because I don't have the same ones. You have my permission to look around in my section, so it's up to you whether or not you do so. I do not have your permission to look around in yours, so I will respect that. What makes it fair is that you respect my boundaries when I set them as well.” 

“It just feels wrong, you know?”

“I understand. Just know if you do I'm not going to turn around and use that as an excuse to enter yours.” Jon kissed Martin’s cheek before reaching for the profiles. “Now come on, you're the one who said we need to not put these things off.”

Martin groaned, but began looking over the profiles again. They each contained the therapist’s name, pronouns, age, how long they have been practicing, what subjects they are best at handling, and their success rate. Most of the entries for best subjects were what you expect from a couples counselor, conflict resolution, intimacy issues, stress management, etc etc. Then one caught his eye.

Kodak Hol

He/him

Age: 42

Practicing for: 15 years

Best subjects: Domestic Disputes, PTSD and Violence Aftermath, Substance Addiction 

Success rate: 88%

“Hey, Jon? This guy is a couples counselor right? Why does most of his best subjects sound more like they are for individuals?” Jon peered at the profile Martin was holding.

“Oh! Yes, he is a couples counselor, exclusively actually. Those are in reference to how they can affect a relationship more than individual needs. He typically helps couples where one or both of them have gone through something traumatic. For example, say partner A was kidnapped and now can't stand to be touched, even by partner B. Partner B is very tactile and doesn't know how to soothe people without touching them in some way, so every time A has a nightmare, B ends up making things worse. He coaches partner B on ways to help that don't involve touch, while helping A work through their trauma so they can feel safe enough to be touched by B again.” 

“That's incredible. Was that actually something he did?”

“Yes, although extremely oversimplified. He's big on giving partners tools to help one another through their healing process.”

Martin thinks back to the scar he left on Jon. Kodak probably never had to deal with a situation like his. Who else could say they had to stab their boyfriend to reverse the apocalypse and now has to grapple with the guilt? But maybe he's dealt with something close enough? Maybe he could teach them exactly what they need to learn.

“I think I'd like to try this one.”