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“You know I can always call out,” Martin says from the doorway, for what must be the third time that morning. “It’s fine if we have to close the library for the afternoon.”
Jon fondly rolls his eyes and sets his book aside. Princess, the stray cat that moved in a while ago and turned out surprisingly affectionate, complains quietly at being disturbed during her nap on his lap. “There’s no need,” Jon says, scratching Princess behind the ears before she wanders off. “Really.”
“Are you sure?” Martin’s footsteps approach. The sofa dips beside Jon as he sits down. “I don’t think it’ll be busy today with the weather and all.”
“Martin,” Jon says, calm but determined. He reaches out to find Martin next to him, and wraps his arms around his shoulders. “It’s fine. I promise Tim and I won’t kill each other even if we have to spend most of the day without you.”
‘I’m not making that promise,’ Gerry interjects. He’s trying to come off as light-hearted, Jon thinks, but the lightness doesn’t quite make it through the steel in his voice. ‘Depends on his attitude, really.’
Martin sighs. Gerry can’t sign to him right now, not with their hands still linked around Martin’s neck, but he seems to have the right idea anyway. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” Martin says pointedly.
“It’s going to be fine. Tim wouldn’t come to visit if he was looking to pick a fight.”
“I know. But I still worry.”
Jon lets out a long breath. If he’s honest with himself, he is too. He isn’t sure if he and Tim still know how to do anything that isn’t fighting. But he still remembers how things were before the Archives, and misses it with a fierceness that surprises him sometimes. If there’s any chance he can find a part of it buried under all that grief and hurt, it’ll be worth it to put himself back into the line of fire.
“We’re going to be fine,” Jon repeats, softer this time. He presses his lips to Martin’s forehead. “Even if this goes wrong.”
“I know.” Martin cranes his neck to press his lips to Jon’s. Jon hums and sinks into the kiss, enjoying the warmth and closeness for a moment before he abruptly pulls back.
“Aren’t you late for work?” he asks, and Martin suddenly stiffens beneath him.
“Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting Jon off him in a hurry. Jon tries to stifle his laughter as Martin rushes through the room, getting his things together.
“Don’t laugh,” Martin complains as he steps at Jon’s side one more time. “It’s so warm out I’m gonna arrive all sweaty if I hurry on the way.”
“I’m sure Lottie isn’t going to complain if she gets to see you all breathless and tousled.” Jon grins. “I’m a bit jealous, really.”
“Stop it,” Martin chides him gently. He presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead, and then another to the back of Gerry’s hand. Jon can always tell by the soft sound of lips on skin, and the hitch of Gerry’s breath. “It’s not going to be sexy in any way.”
‘I disagree. Send me a selfie,’ Gerry says, laughter in his voice.
“Gerry wants a selfie!” Jon calls after Martin.
Martin huffs out a laugh. “Maybe if you behave around Tim,” he shouts from the direction of the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“We will.”
And with that, the front door slams shut. Jon sinks back into the cushions, a smile still stuck on his lips.
‘I really will try not to piss him off,’ Gerry says after a moment. ‘But I won’t be nice if he’s still a dick.’
‘That’s fair.’
‘I just… I’m worried as well.’
‘I know.’ Jon runs a hand down his face and gets up to drag himself into the shower before Tim arrives. ‘It’s going to be fine, I promise.’
Tim’s bus is late.
It’s not a problem, really - it’s just a half hour delay, and the weather is uncharacteristically warm and sunny for early April, so Jon doesn’t mind the wait. He sits on the bench next to the bus stop, soaking up the sun after the long and cold winter. It does, however, give him some extra time to stew in his anxiety.
Finally, the bus approaches and comes to a rumbling stop. Jon lets out a long breath. Nervously he sits up, clutching his cane close to his chest. The door opens with a hiss and Jon listens to the footsteps as people depart.
‘Do you see him?’ Jon asks Gerry, biting his lip.
Gerry hesitates a moment. ‘Uh… ah, yeah. There he is. He’s coming over.’
“Tim?”
Someone comes to a stop in front of Jon. There’s a few seconds of silence, but then Tim takes a deep breath and finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m here. Hi, Jon.”
For a second, it sounds like Tim’s voice is coming from very far away. It’s faint and echoing, in a way that makes the hairs on the back of Jon’s neck stand up, but by the time he reaches Jon’s name the sound comes rushing back all of a sudden. Jon winces as his ears ring, utterly disoriented by the experience.
“Um, h-hi,” he finally manages to get out. He reaches out for Tim, his heart in his throat, and lets out a breath of relief when he finds his arm right next to him. “It’s- it’s good to see you.”
He gives Tim’s arm a quick squeeze, which Tim answers with an awkward pat on his shoulder. His skin is cold, a stark contrast to the warm breeze.
“It’s good to see you too,” Tim says. “Are you doing alright?”
Jon gulps, trying to pull himself together and ignore the sudden spike of dread in the pit of his stomach. “Um, y-yes. Sorry. H-how are you?”
“Fine, I suppose.”
Jon frowns at the tone in his voice. He doesn’t sound like he means it. “Are you sure?”
Tim sighs. “It’s- it’s fine. It’s just… I don’t know. Strange to be back in the country, you know?.”
“I can imagine. We were down in London a couple of weeks ago, and it was… jarring, a little bit.”
Tim chuckles. “Yeah. This place looks like it’s a bit of a change of pace.”
“Quite.” Jon smiles. It took him some time to get used to it - the quiet, the calmness, the familiarity instead of the vast anonymity of London - but now he can hardly imagine living anywhere else. “Um, can we walk? I need to get some groceries, and I can show you the rest of the village on the way.”
“Er, sure.” Tim pauses for a second. “Do you need… ?”
“Um, y-your arm? If- if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Tim steps closer to him and Jon links their arms, letting Tim lead the way following Jon’s instructions. He frowns at the coldness still clinging to Tim’s skin, despite the warmth of the day, but before he can voice a question Tim is talking again.
“So, err… how is Gerry?” he asks, carefully.
Jon huffs out a laugh. “Did Martin tell you to ask?”
“No! It’s just… look, I’m just trying to be polite. I thought you two were, um, a thing?”
“Us three,” Jon corrects. “Gerry and Martin as well.”
Tim pauses for a second. “Right. How does that work? Sorry, I’m just…”
“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind you asking. Um, Gerry can control my left hand. He and Martin mainly communicate through sign language at this point.”
“Ah.” Tim pauses for a second. “That explains the black nail polish.”
Jon grins. “Did you think that was me?”
“I don’t know,” Tim says defensively. ”I- I didn’t notice anything strange with how you’re moving it.”
“Well. We asked Gerry not to flip you off without reason, otherwise it might have been more obvious.”
Tim huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “You know, that’s fair,” he says slowly, tiredly. His voice grows faint at the end, like it did a moment ago. Like it might be carried away with nothing but a gust of wind, and leave nothing of Tim behind. This time, Jon is sure he isn’t imagining it.
‘Gerry?’ he asks in alarm.
‘Yes,’ Gerry says, without a question in his voice. ‘Something’s wrong. Something’s off about him. For a moment it was like he’s… fuzzy, around the edges.’
Jon gulps, a shiver running down his spine. He’s read too many statements in his life to not recognise the signs of the Fears. He tightens his grip around Tim’s arm, letting out a breath of relief when he feels Tim firm and solid next to him. “Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“A- are you…?”
Tim lets out a long breath. “It’s fine,” he finally bites out, and Jon winces at the sudden sharpness in his voice. The faintness, whatever it was, is gone for the moment. “Can we not do this in the middle of the street? We’re at the store, by the way.”
“R-right.” Jon still wants to press, but he has to agree that this isn’t the time and the place for a conversation like this. Instead, he lets Tim and Gerry lead him through the store as they collect the items on his grocery list. The store is mostly empty at this time, and Jon is glad that he doesn’t run into any acquaintances who might ask questions about the tense, awkward silence between him and Tim.
His luck runs out once they make it to the tills and a familiar voice calls out to him.
“Oh, hello Jon,” Eleanor, one of the middle-aged ladies in his knitting circle, says as she begins scanning his items. “Lovely weather out there, isn’t it? Who’s your companion?”
“This is my fr- ah, this is Tim,” Jon stutters. He nearly said friend, but he swallows the word at the last second. Just last summer Tim would’ve bitten his head off for calling him a friend, and although so many things changed, Jon is still at a loss of where they stand right now. Beside him, Tim goes rigid, but he doesn’t say a word. “We… we used to work together.”
“Oh, really? What was it again you used to do?” Eleanor asks, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile.
Jon just barely manages not to roll his eyes. As much as he likes most of the villagers, all of them are terribly curious about his and Martin’s past lives, especially since they carefully avoid talking about it. “Archiving,” he says as he hurries to bag the groceries before Eleanor can ask another question. “Nothing interesting.”
Tim snorts. “That’s one way to put it,” he mumbles under his breath, and Jon elbows him into the side.
“What did you say, love?” Eleanor says just as Jon gets his card out to pay.
“Nothing,” Tim says quickly. “It was really just a regular archiving job. Did you know Jon was our boss?”
“Oh, really?” Jon can practically see Eleanor leaning closer with gleaming eyes, hungry for the newest bit of gossip. “Martin’s as well?”
Jon groans and quickly swipes his card across the reader. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a rush,” he manages to get out before practically dragging Tim outside.
This is going to keep the rumour mill busy for weeks, but Jon doesn’t have it in him to be seriously annoyed. Because Tim laughs, and Gerry does as well, and it has been so long since he and Tim had the kind of relationship that allowed friendly teasing. Despite the tension, the awkwardness, whatever else is going on with Tim, for a moment this feels normal. Comfortable, even. As if there’s still a chance to cross the rift between them, and Jon desperately holds on to that feeling as they make their way out of the shop and back home.
Outside, the warmth has turned humid. Since the way back to the cottage is mostly uphill, both Jon and Tim are too out of breath to talk much. Finally, they arrive at the house that has been Jon’s home for over six months now. They haul the groceries inside and put them away, before settling on the sofa with a cup of tea and a tin of biscuits.
Jon takes a long sip of his still too hot tea, bites his lip, and finally breaks the silence. “So, um. What… what do you think? Of this place.”
Tim takes a moment to answer. His mug of tea is set down on the coffee table with a thump. “It’s… nice,” Tim finally says, slowly and carefully. “But I already thought the village was remote. This place is a whole different level though.”
“Well. We do like it that way. It avoids questions we can’t really answer, at the very least. It’s, ah, a little difficult sometimes to hide Gerry.”
“Yeah. I get it. But doesn’t it get… lonely?”
Jon frowns, pondering the question for a few long seconds. “Um. N-no, not really. I mean, I share a body with Gerry. I don’t know if I still can be lonely. And Martin is there, of course. Oh, and the cat. Her name is Princess.”
Tim lets out a shuddering breath. “Right. That’s… wow. I just… I can’t imagine.”
‘Jon,’ Gerry says in warning, but Jon has already heard it again: Tim’s voice growing faint, accompanied with a waft of coldness at the back of Jon’s neck. He shivers and reaches out, placing his hand on top of Tim’s.
“Tim, what is going on?” Jon asks softly, and Tim flinches away from his touch.
“Sorry,” he gasps out. “It’s… it’s fine, really. You shouldn’t worry about this.”
“I- you can’t just tell me not to worry. That’s not how it works.”
“This isn’t… this isn’t your problem, though. This isn’t about you.”
“I… I didn’t think it was. I just thought I might be able to help.”
“It’s fine,” Tim repeats, more firmly this time. He does not sound fine at all. His voice is trembling.
Jon huffs in frustration. “Just… tell me. Good Lord, do you have to be so stubborn?”
Tim scoffs. “You’re one to talk.”
“I just don’t see why you can’t just-”
“Stop it,” Tim snaps, and the sudden anger in his voice makes Jon flinch so hard he spills his tea. He lets out a hiss as it burns on his skin, hurriedly setting down the mug on the table. Gerry makes a noise in his head that might as well be a growl, but other than that an oppressive silence falls across the room.
Jon takes a deep breath before he tries to speak. “If you’re still angry at me, why are you even here?”
“I’m not-” Tim starts, still sounding upset, but he stops himself abruptly. “I’m not angry at you. If anything, I’m angry at myself. But you… you did ask the right question there.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Tim says, voice full of self-deprecation. “I don’t know why I thought this would work out. I’m sorry. I just… I need some air.”
Before Jon can answer, Tim gets up and storms out of the room. Jon flinches at the door slamming shut and sinks onto the sofa, desperate for a moment to breathe as well, but Gerry speaks up immediately, frantic and desperate.
‘Go after him.’
‘Maybe we should give him some time-’
‘No,’ Gerry interrupts, and the urgency in his voice extinguishes Jon’s protests immediately. ‘Go after him, right now. Jon, please.’
Jon doesn’t need to be told another time. Without hesitation he’s on his feet, and rushes after Tim.
He knows something is terribly wrong as soon as he opens the door. Instead of being greeted by a wall of warm, humid air, a damp coldness washes over him. It immediately makes him shiver, but Jon cannot say if he’s shaking due to the cold or due to fear.
‘It’s the Lonely, isn’t it?’ he croaks, hesitating in the doorway.
‘Yes,’ Gerry says, his voice grave but calm. ‘It’s… foggy. Not really dark, but I still can’t see.’
‘Can you find him?’
‘Yes. He didn’t get far. I can See him. See with a capital S, I mean. But I don’t know how much further the Eye’s power can go.’
‘Then… let’s go. Before it’s too late.’
‘Follow my lead,’ Gerry says, and Jon does. It’s what he’s been doing for months, right from the moment Gerry ended up in his head, and he hasn’t led him astray so far. Despite the coldness freezing the breath in his lungs, despite the fear constricting his chest, he follows Gerry’s instructions and steps into the fog.
He’s walking for merely a minute when he hears it: the soft sound of Tim crying, somewhere ahead of them. Jon lets out a breath of relief and quickens his steps, and a moment later he reaches Tim’s side. Without hesitation he drops to his knees next to where Tim is crouching on the ground, and wraps his arms around him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Tim says quietly, but to Jon’s relief he doesn’t fight him off.
“Well, tough,” Jon protests, and holds him a little tighter.
It startles a wet laugh out of Tim. “I’m sorry. I’ve just… been having a bit of a rough time.”
For a moment, Jon doesn’t know what to say. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” he finally says. “I just- I thought you were better. I thought it would help you, to get away from the Institute.”
Tim sniffs. He seems to calm down a little; the violent tremors rocking his body reducing to a light shiver. As the tension eases, he finally leans closer to Jon, resting his head against his shoulder. “It did. For a while.”
“What changed, then?”
“At first, it was good to just get away. See new places and meet people who had no idea who I was and what shit I went through. But after a while…” Tim pauses, letting out a sigh. “Once you try to make genuine connections, people will ask questions. About your job, your family, your friends. And I- I wanted to tell them. About Danny, and Sasha, and… you, even. But I couldn’t. You can’t talk to anyone about all this, can you?”
Jon gulps around the lump in his throat. He knows this feeling, in a way - there’s a reason, after all, why he and Martin don’t talk to the villagers about their previous lives. But he has Martin and Gerry at his side, and never considered how lonely it must be to have no one else who would understand. “No,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. “Not really. I’m sorry, Tim.”
“I thought it would at least be different with my parents,” Tim continues, not able to hide the bitterness in his voice. “But I visited, and it was still the same. They’re grieving, and I’m grieving, and we still can’t talk about anything. Especially not about Danny. And I- I mean, this isn't new. But…”
“But?” Jon prompts gently when Tim trails off.
“I felt like this after Prentiss as well,” Tim admits, a bit apprehensive. “I needed someone to talk to, but Sasha was already gone and you were neck deep in paranoia and there was no one else. Back then, I got angry because it was the only thing I had. Now I don’t have it in me to be angry anymore, but there’s also nothing else left. And that’s when this started.”
Tim shifts in Jon’s embrace, gesturing at their surroundings. Jon assumes they’re still in the fog - the coldness is still biting his skin, although it has lost a bit of its sting. Jon isn’t sure if it really alleviated, or if he simply got used to it. The second option scares him more than he is willing to admit, and a shiver runs down his spine. “I’m sorry, Tim. I understand. I really do. And I promise we can talk about it, but… let’s get out of here first.”
Jon tries to get to his feet and pull Tim with him, but Tim doesn’t budge. Instead, he lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have come. I know you don’t want anything to do with all this spooky shit anymore, and here I am bringing it right back to you.”
Jon shakes his head, gripping Tim’s shoulders. “I don’t mind. I’d rather you bring it to me than have nowhere else to go.”
“But it’s not fair to you. You got away. You got out. You deserve to live in peace without all this.”
“Maybe,” Jon says quietly. “That’s not how it works, though.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. Last month… Martin found a Leitner in the library.”
“Shit.” Tim sucks in a sharp breath. “Is- is he, is everyone…?”
“Everyone is fine,” Jon says, quick to reassure him. He squeezes Tim’s shoulder. “He recognized it immediately. He called us, and we took care of it. Gerry has some experience.”
“Right,” Tim says with a chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”
“And Gerry, he’s… he’s still connected to the Eye. Without that connection, he wouldn’t be here. He still Sees things. Knows things. There’s no easy way to escape the Fears, even though we’re trying.”
Tim mulls over his words for a while. Finally his shoulders sag and he lets out a long, tired breath. “What’s the point of all this, then?” he asks wearily. “Why do we try if we can’t escape them anyway?”
“It’s true that we can’t shake off the Fears completely,” Jon starts slowly. “But, of all the times we’ve been dealing with this again… there’s been weeks if not months between them. It’s worth it for these bits in between. It’s worth it for every day I spend with Martin and Gerry without thinking about the Fears.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Tim reluctantly says. “But I don't… I don’t have anything like that. Anyone like that, to fill these bits. And- I know that is mostly my own fault, but still.”
Jon hesitates. You've got us, he wants to say, but he doesn't even know if that is something Tim would want. And it's not like he can make a promise like that on his own.
'Gerry?' Jon asks.
'He should stay with us for a bit,' Gerry says without Jon needing to ask. 'I know he was planning to leave in a day or two, but… we can make use of the guest room for once.’
‘Oh.’ Jon blinks in surprise.’ Um. A-are you sure?’
‘Yeah. Sure.’
‘Thank you.’ Jon can’t help a smile. ‘So much for not taking in strays.’
‘Oh, fuck off,’ Gerry says with a laugh. ‘We all know that damn cat has already proven me wrong.’
‘You love her.’
Gerry sighs. ‘I do.’
“Gerry thinks you should stay with us for a bit,” Jon finally says out loud. “And I agree with him. I know you feel alone right now, but you've got us.”
Tim is stunned into silence for a moment. “Really?” he finally says, in a tone Jon didn’t quite expect. He expected reluctance, maybe gratitude if Tim was open to the idea, but he sounds utterly baffled.
Jon frowns. “Yes. Of course. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“How can you… how can you say that?” Tim demands, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice. “After everything? After everything I’ve done? I haven’t even- Christ, I haven’t even apologised. I just- I know I don’t deserve forgiveness-”
“I don’t care,” Jon protests, interrupting Tim before he can spiral any further. “I don’t- I don’t need an apology. I don’t want one. It’s fine. I just… I just want my friend back.”
Tim’s breath hitches. He pulls out of Jon’s grasp, but only to push himself to his feet. Jon follows him, and as soon as he’s standing Tim catches his hand in his own, bringing it to his chest. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t need it, or don’t want it. You still deserve to hear it.”
“Tim-”
“No, hear me out," Tim pleads. He takes a shaking breath and hesitates for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lashing out at you when I was angry and desperate. I’m sorry for blaming you for… everything, really, when it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said and done that hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of it. I don’t think anything I can say or do will make it better, but I need you to know that I’m sorry.”
Jon gulps through the lump in his throat, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. He meant it, when he said he didn’t need an apology, but now it still leaves him speechless, overwhelmed with emotion. And no matter how often Gerry and Martin remind him that not everything was his fault, reassurances like these still hit him hard every single time. “Thank you, Tim,” Jon finally manages to say, his voice breaking. “It… it means a lot to me. And, for what it’s worth… I still forgive you. Even if you think you don’t deserve it.”
Tim’s breath hitches, and a moment later Jon finds himself in an embrace so tight it nearly squeezes the air out of his lungs. He hugs back with equal ferocity, clinging to Tim like a lifeline. Tim’s shoulders shake as he cries, and Jon can’t help but tear up as well. Even though he’d hoped that he and Tim might reconcile while he was visiting, he hadn’t dared to hope that it could turn out like this. That Tim would find comfort in his presence, in his words, in his touch. That he would hug Jon like he means it, like all the hurt between them never happened.
In a strange way, it almost feels like the first time they met. Back when they were in Research, already facing off against the Fears although they did not realise so at the time. Both of them in over their heads, scared although they would not admit it, gravitating towards each other due to their experiences and a shared sense of urgency, a desperate desire to know.
Back then, they found each other when they had both needed it. They learned that investigating the terrors of this world was a lot easier to bear if they didn’t do it alone. And from that, their companionship had bloomed into a genuine friendship before it had broken under the strain of the Archives. But still - they had managed to come together once, despite their past trauma and the terrifying world they had thrown themselves into when joining the Institute. And as Tim clings to Jon and Jon clings to Tim, Jon is sure that they will be able to do so again.
The hug lasts for a very long time. At some point they crumble to the ground, but even then they do not let go of each other. But finally, after they both cried out their grief, Jon suddenly becomes aware of two things.
The first is a breeze at the back of his neck - not exactly warm, but pleasant enough - and the second is the feeling of grass beneath his knees.
With a sniff, Jon lifts his head from Tim’s shoulder.
‘Gerry?’ he asks slowly. ‘What’s happening?’
Gerry lets out a relieved laugh. ‘The fog is gone. You made it.’
‘Really?’ Jon frowns. ‘Where are we?’
‘The meadow behind the cottage. Not too far away, actually. It’s late, though. I don’t know how much time we spent in there, but the sun is setting. The sky is a deep orange. It’s gonna be dark soon.’
‘Oh.’ Carefully, Jon extracts himself from the embrace. Tim lets him go, albeit a little reluctantly. He starts rummaging through his pockets instead, and loudly blows his nose a moment later.
“Are you alright?” Jon finally asks, pushing himself to his feet. He winces as his knees protest against the movement.
“Yeah,” Tim says. His voice is hoarse, but for the first time in ages he sounds like he means it. He gets to his feet as well, and catches Jon’s hand in his own. “Thank you.”
“For forgiving you?”
“That too. And… for coming after me.”
“Of course.” Jon gives his hand a squeeze. “Shall we get back?”
“Sure.” Tim gently tugs on his hand, and Jon follows with a smile. Just as they approach the cottage, hands still linked between them, Jon hears the back door open. It always creaks, despite his best efforts to oil the hinges.
“Hey,” Martin calls out from ahead of them. “Where have you two been?”
There’s worry in his voice, but not the kind of alarm Jon would have expected if they had actually been missing. Martin must’ve just gotten back from work. Still, Martin’s voice makes him quicken his steps, eager to let the last bits of this experience behind them.
“Strayed a bit too far,” Tim says as they step at Martin’s side. “But I think we found the way. Didn’t we, Jon?”
Jon huffs out a laugh. Martin greets him with a hug and a kiss, and then goes to hug Tim as well. “Yes,” he finally says, meaning it in more than just the literal sense. “I think we did.”