Chapter Text
If you can get off work early, I need you to come home as soon as possible. There's something we need to talk about. I love you.
It was impossible for Martin not to panic at the general calmness of the text despite the myriad worst case scenarios waiting for him at their flat as he rushed up the stairs of their building. They'd only just moved to the bigger space a few months ago, a decision made when Martin got a job with a moderately successful independent bookstore. He hadn't initially set out to find another job, but it was something to keep him busy in between spurts of creativity that left him with a growing stack of notebooks filled with poetry. Jon kept pushing him to look into publishing, but he continued to put it off. Sometimes being at the shop was a welcome respite from feeling like he was failing Jon by not pursuing his poetry more actively.
They weren't exactly hurting for money. Being the late Peter Lukas' former assistant had left Martin with a sizable increase in his bank account in the year before the apocalypse - or the Event as the media dubbed it. Immersed in the Lonely, he'd had no reason to spend frivolously, defaulting to an austere lifestyle that required minimal effort and the cold comfort of meals-for-one when he remembered to bother eating. No longer the Head Archivist of the rubble that was once the Magnus Institute, Jon's diminished connection to the Eye still made him a valuable resource to the Usher Foundation in Washington, DC and the Pu-Songling Research Center in Beijing. It seemed like every other day Jon was on a call with one or the other, but he made sure to charge them a, quite frankly, ridiculous amount for his consultant fee as a reminder of the value of his time and to assert his control over the situation. They'd been calling less often in recent months. Hopefully, they'd taken the hint.
Getting a text from Jon in the middle of the day wasn't out of the question, but he did tend to respect Martin's desire for space when he was at work. They occasionally got lunch together, but Jon was very adamant about not taking up all of Martin's time even if Martin told him he didn't mind being "bothered." When they did text or call each other during the day, there was a comfort and familiarity to their conversations that spoke of the hell they'd gone through together not so long ago. So, getting the polite, clipped text that lacked the usual warmth of their exchanges set off all of Martin's internal alarms.
He was at the door of their flat, key in the lock, when he heard the high-pitched wail of a baby...from the inside.
Rushing through the door, Martin was met with a sight he couldn't have anticipated when he left the flat that morning.
Sitting on the sofa was his partner, Jonathan Sims, holding a baby and staunching its cries by feeding it a bottle as he pitched his voice low and gently cooed.
"Now, now," he said, "none of that. Plenty of milk for you. Perhaps a nap after? Won't that be nice?"
The baby continued to drink, but their eyes were squarely focused on Jon, hanging on his every word.
"Jon!? What...?"
Jon looked up as if he'd known Martin was there the whole time, which was likely true. He no longer hungered for statements, but his ability to Know remained intact. His eyes were warm, if somewhat nervous, as he greeted Martin with a smile.
"Hello, Martin," he said, calmly. "I apologize for pulling you away from work, but, as you can see, there's something - someone - we need to talk about. She's been waiting to meet you."
Martin soundlessly shut the door, divesting himself of his coat, bag, and shoes as if it were a normal day. He sat by Jon's side, staring at the bundle in his arms. The baby was wrapped in a soft pink blanket that left enough room for her arms to reach out and grip the bottle Jon held steadily. Her skin was a soft, warm brown only a shade lighter than Jon's that complimented the fuzz of curly, black hair haphazardly gathered up by a small barrette. Even as he looked her over her gaze shifted to stare up at the both of them with deep brown eyes that seemed to smile even as they drooped sleepily.
Looking away for a moment, Martin noticed the new items taking up space in their living room. There was a rocker next to the sofa and a car seat sitting by the door. A bag of toys sat half open on a larger blanket spread out on the floor near an activity seat with all the bits and baubles sure to attract a baby's attention. He couldn't see into the kitchen at this angle, but he was almost certain he'd find a highchair, bottle warmer, and small glass containers of mushy food.
"Jon...I don't understand. Did you-?" Martin struggled to put words together to make sense of the situation. "Did you agree to babysit for the neighbors?"
Jon let out a shaky laugh almost an octave higher than his normal voice. It was enough that the little girl in his arms wriggled unhappily at the sound. The bottle was almost empty, but she didn't seem interested in it anymore. Instead, her eyes closed and she fully relaxed into Jon's arms, content and sated. Jon quickly slung a cloth over his shoulder and brought her up to burp her, his hand tapping tapping gently but forcefully against her back until a small urrp erupted from the tiny mouth. He then returned her to the crook of his arm, rocking her back to a happy state of slumber.
Martin watched the whole thing happen with rapt attention.
"I didn't agree to babysit," Jon said, his tone serious as he faced Martin again. "The young couple down the hall, Ellery and Sean, this was their daughter."
"I-I didn't even know their names, so - wait, what? Was their daughter? Was?!" Martin said. Jon scowled at the volume of his voice, which Martin quickly altered. "Jon, what did you do?"
Jon looked back down at the little girl in his arms. "I'd just gotten off a call with Beijing. I was about to make some tea when I Knew. They'd had her in a fit of passion after the Change ended, but they weren't prepared, weren't ready to be parents. Ellery had been a victim of the Lonely, tortured by an intense bought of invisibility that left her unable to connect. Sean had been caught up in the Flesh - disassembled and reassembled under the scrutiny of faces devoid of features except for their eyes. They found each other in a group therapy session and fell into bed not long after. What they needed from each other never included a child, but they made an attempt regardless. Since they brought her home, they'd been fighting, unable to give of themselves for her or each other. They were going to abandon her, leave her alone somewhere in the hopes that someone else would take care of it."
"Leave her alone..." Martin said, a familiar echo ringing in his ears. He reached out to the baby, looping her tiny hand around his index finger. She squeezed back as if sensing his desire to offer and receive comfort.
"I couldn't let them," Jon said, his eyes glued to the small exchange happening between his partner and the little one. "They'd already suffered because of me. I couldn't handle them leaving her abandoned in a world ill equipped to care for her even before the Change. She - she deserves better than that. I...I knocked on their door and offered to take her instead. I made it worth their while."
"You - you're telling me you bought a baby?" Martin asked, the question laced with equal parts laughter and anxiety. "That's - that's so illegal!"
"I'll-I'll give Daisy and Basira a call," Jon said, his voice far more tentative as he thought out the reality of the situation. "I'm sure they'll know what to do. The paperwork will be atrocious, no doubt, but I - I don't care."
"Of course you don't care, but there's a lot to consider if her paper trail only starts six months after she was born. Do you have her birth certificate? Any documentation? Bureaucrats don't care if you Know something. They need a-a piece of notarized paper, not a statement," Martin said, his voice staying hushed yet forceful. "Does she even have a name?"
"Of course she has a name," Jon snapped, matching his tone. "I just don't like it."
Martin had to laugh. It was too absurd not to laugh. Thankfully, the baby stayed asleep though the whole thing, though her grip on his finger never lessened.
"Okay, what'll we name her, then?" he asked. "There's no sense in calling Daisy and Basira until we know her name so we can get the paperwork in order."
Silence followed until Martin realized Jon was staring at him with the intense kind of skepticism he hadn't seen since their first year working in the Magnus Institute archives.
"So you-you're just on board with all of this?" Jon asked. "Martin, I - I bought a baby!"
"Yes, love, I'm aware," Martin said.
"You said it yourself, it's so very illegal," Jon added.
"Again, yes," Martin said, trying to stop the grin tugging at his lips as he watched Jon got through the process of thinking through his actions. "It's absolutely illegal"
"And we're sitting here, cooing over her like I didn't purchase her like - like a thing. Like an accessory to our home. She's-she's a person, Martin. A person deserving of-of dignity and love and a home and I've -I've-," His body began to shake as the reality of the situation set in. Martin could see the spiraling session about to happen and acted accordingly. He took Jon's free hand and placed it over his heart, breathing in a calm, measured rhythm that gave Jon something to hold on to, something to keep him grounded.
These episodes weren't unusual, but they'd been more frequent in the early months following the world being restored. Jon would suddenly have a thought about what he'd been made to do by Jonah Magnus, the people who suffered because of him, and the stories lost in their attempt to destroy the archives and weaken the Eye. The anxiety and pain would creep along his thoughts until he was in the grip of a full blown panic attack that nearly left him catatonic. They'd gotten better at recognizing the signs, though there were still times when Martin came home only to find Jon sat on their bed, staring at the wall without really seeing it as his chest heaved and tears spilled down his cheeks. Many of them happened after calls with the sister institutes, which was yet another reason Martin hoped they called less as it seemed their presence was a constant reminder to Jon of how he'd been used as a tool by a truly evil man.
"Listen to me, Jon," Martin said. He kept his voice hushed, leaning in close to his partner's ear so as not to disturb the baby. "You didn't pay off her birth parents because she matches the curtains. You compensated two people who were willing to abandon their child without a second thought. Yes, she's deserving of love and dignity and a home and from the moment I set foot in this flat you've done nothing but look at her like she's the most precious jewel deserving of adoration. You've already fallen in love with her."
"But - are we any more prepared to be her parents?" Jon asked, his breaths falling back into a healthier, more Jon-like pattern. "What do we know about raising a child? Martin...what if we - what if we screw it all up? What if we ruin her?"
Martin didn't answer immediately because there was no good answer to such heady questions. They'd talked about having children in the future, though it had never been a concrete agreement. Neither of them had come from particularly loving households and the fear of reprising the abuses inflicted upon them was always fresh on their tongues. Would they break the cycle or stay trapped in the wheel?
He removed Jon's hand from his heart and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle.
"I think...I think all we can do is try," Martin said. "No one really knows, right? It's all a guessing game. There is one thing I know for certain."
"What's that?" Jon asked.
"I know she'll always be loved because her - her fathers will do everything in their power to tell her and show her every day of her life," Martin said. He could feel his eyes tearing up, a mirror of the watery eyes facing him from the man he loved. Jon leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Martin's lips. When they broke apart, the warmth between them lingering on their lips, Jon cupped Martin's face, rubbing his thumb along his cheek. Martin fell into the small gestures more than the grand ones and he reveled in the feel of Jon's fingers on his skin.
"You're too good for me," Jon said. "Far too good than I deserve."
"Don't sell yourself short," Martin admonished. "I wouldn't be here without you, Jon."
"And you're...you're sure about this? I don't want to - to trap you into something you didn't sign up for," Jon said. "I'd understand if this isn't what you--"
"Jon," Martin said sternly, "I'm here and I'm with you. I'm with both of you. Just - just maybe call me next time you decide to purchase an addition to the family."
The laugh that erupted from Jon was much louder than he'd intended, but enough to startle the baby awake. Like the piercing cry Martin heard from outside the flat, her disturbed sleep warranted and equally loud wail. Jon immediately began to rock her, but Martin reached out, offering his open arms.
"Are you sure?" Jon asked.
"Yeah, give 'er over," Martin said. He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a baby, but it was easy enough to remember to support her head and gently bounce her as he hummed and soothed her down to sniffles and whimpers. Jon produced a bag from the floor. Digging around, he found a pacifier and let the baby latch on to it, suckling until she drifted off again and settled into Martin's arms. She smelled like fresh powder and milk, a combination that shouldn't be comforting but made him sigh contentedly, nonetheless. He felt his shoulders sag and the tightness in his chest and stomach unspool as his body entered a total state of relaxation.
Jon leaned in again, his hand gently running along her curly hair as he watched her fall asleep once again.
"She still needs a name," Martin whispered.
Jon hummed. "I think she looks like a Blackwood."
"Really? How d'ya figure?"
"Hmm, something about the nose," Jon said. "It's a strong nose, very Blackwoodesque. A nose that can sniff out the subtle differences among cheeses."
Martin snorted, immediately covering his face in a panic that he'd woken the baby. She remained asleep, none the wiser to the two men's conversation. Jon was shaking slightly from laughing, but he managed to keep it together better than Martin.
"Oh, shut it," Martin said. "Fine. If she's a Blackwood, then she'll need something of you as well."
"A hyphenate? Sims-Blackwood? Blackwood-Sims?"
Martin shook his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of...Joanna."
"Joanna," Jon said, testing out the name. "Joanna Blackwood."
"Joanna S. Blackwood," Martin amended.
"No, she needs an actual middle name," Jon insisted. "None of that 'K' stands for whatever you want business."
Martin rolled his eyes. "Of course, Jon. The 'S' is for Sims."
"Joanna Sims Blackwood," Jon said. He frowned, shaking his head. "Doesn't sound like an appropriate middle name. Not for her, at least."
There was another stretch of silence filled only by Joanna's soft breathing.
"Simone," Martin finally said. "Joanna Simone Blackwood."
Jon smiled, his eyes tearing up again. "I like it. We're not being too narcissistic, are we?"
Martin shrugged. "We're new parents. Let's be a little narcissistic. She can always change it later if she wants."
"True," Jon chuckled. They settled against each other, staring at Joanna, staring at their daughter. The circumstances might have been unorthodox, but neither could deny the swell of love that filled them as they watched her sleep soundly and securely between them.
"Sleep well, Joanna," Jon said, kissing her forehead. "Your..fathers love you."
"Very much," Martin added.
Six weeks later, a package arrived from Daisy containing the official paperwork that made them both let out a sigh of relief knowing that Joanna S. Blackwood was forever a part of their family. And, come what may, they were determined to give her the best life possible.