Chapter Text
Jonah sat there on the cozy chair in the Panopticon, face withered with age and dried with time. A blood covered knife stuck out of his chest and a hole sat on the side of his face. His empty gaze turned to Jon slowly and his dessicated lips parted- “you let me die…”
Jon tensed- “no- I-” he could feel his entire body tense, tears falling down his cheeks. “Jonah, I loved you!”
“You killed me…” blood slid down his lips and stained his shirt below. “You wanted this, didn't you?”
“Not anymore. Not you. Not this version.” Jon pleaded. “I should have taken the bullets myself!”
Jon woke with tears streaming down his face. Duchess was looking at him expectantly, sitting where Jonah used to sleep. She wondered why Jon was there and not her favorite human. She meowed loudly, like she was offended Jon would show up without her favorite human.
“He’s gone.” Jon sobbed, snot dripping down his face. “He’s not coming back.” Jon curled in a ball beside the cat and didn’t even make an effort to pet her.
She could tell something was very wrong but didn’t know what… So she lowered herself to the duties of an emotional support animal and bumped herself against Jon.
He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing like a stuffed animal, and cried until his lungs gave out. It was uncomfortable. He was getting fluids in her fur but… But maybe she could be patient just this once.
Martin and the others didn’t want to leave Jon to his own devices. Jonathan and Young didn’t trust him… But they weren’t about to deny a ticking time bomb the comforts of home. And Jonathan didn’t want him in his house any more than Jon wanted to be there.
Jon trudged along with Jonathan following close behind, watching for a single wrong move. They set up shifts- watches- to keep Jon from going out and terrorizing the people of Edinburgh, but otherwise Jon was allowed to do what he wanted.
What Jon wanted to do was break down sobbing. Jonah was dead. Everything here reminded him of him- why wouldn’t it? It was Jonah’s house. Jonah’s big, empty, lonely, house. He did cry when the servants offered him cake. And he couldn’t go into Jonah’s study- not when his meticulous organization was still there, reminding Jon who was missing.
___
There were statements in the house at least. His wardens didn’t deny him those but they weren't enough. Jon read the last one twice. Trying to wring as much Fear from the paper as possible maybe a week after they put Jon under house arrest there. He was already feeling twitchy. Why didn't Jonah have more statements here?
Jon looked up at Jonathan when he finished and considered asking to go look for more. “Erm…. I don't suppose you have more Statements tucked away somewhere?” He asked with a sheepish smile.
Jonathan raised an eyebrow “You just had one. You can wait.”
“I'm… actually reading this one again and it's much less effective the second time.” Jon looked like a man desperate to get more laudanum after his supply ran out.
“We’re rationing them. We don’t have that many left. We don’t know what to do with you when they run out. And lawkes, you look like an opium addict.” Jonathan scoffed.
“You don't understand. I need more than this.” He waved the paper slightly, looking more irritated than before. “Please just- can I go look around the institute? See if anything survived?”
“We’ll look. You are not going anywhere.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.
Jon let out a pathetic whimper. He hated this. It felt like starving in the institute’s archives all over again. He dropped the issue through and resorted to pacing around the room like a caged animal. Duchess meowed, annoyed.
____
It only took weeks for Jon to deteriorate into a starved skeleton like he was after his coma and before the ritual. He was restless and desperate in a way Martin hadn’t seen before- or perhaps had been too caught up in the Lonely to notice last time. They had gotten a few statements from the wreckage of the institute but it wasn’t enough. Nothing they did was enough.
Young decided pretty quickly that she wanted no part in being a prison warden. She still felt something for him- he was her friend. She didn’t want to watch him waste away while she stood by and did nothing.
Jon eyed Jonathan like a steak when he visited to do one of their regular health checks.
“He reminds me of Albrecht.” Jonathan said, shuddering. “I think we might need to… put him out of his misery.”
Martin let out pitiful noise. He couldn’t just let Jon die.
“And frankly I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s as good of a man as Albrecht. He won’t agree to even attempt to leave the Eye the way he did.”
“Maybe thats because I'm a good bit deeper than he was and what youre suggesting is suicide.” Jon half hissed at him. How dare they talk about him like he wasn't there. He stormed out of the room, even though that took all the energy his thinning body could muster.
“I’ll go talk to him” Martin said. Part of him just wanted to talk to Jon in private… maybe they could reconnect? He could explain why Jonah was an asshole and why he was better off without him. It might be a hard sell without the statements but he was willing.
“Jon…” Martin tried as he walked into the room Jon holed up in. “Do you want tea?”
Jon’s inhuman eyes landed on Martin. He couldn’t even turn off that horrible weight that came with the Eye now. He didn’t blink. “I’m alright, thank you.” His voice was colder than it had been when Martin first started working in the archives.
Martin tensed and shrank back, “Jon, come on…” There had to be some part of Jon that felt something for him. There had to. They had been through too much together for there to be nothing. Jonah couldn’t take that too.
“You killed Jonah and burned down the institute. And right now there isn’t much feeling except hunger” Jon snapped after looking into Martin’s head. “Do you know what it’s like? I haven’t eaten in over a week!”
Martin cringed. He probably couldn’t get mad about Jon looking into his head, could he? “Maybe we can find you a statement somewhere.”
“Oh one of those printed ones that do nothing but make me hungrier?” Jon snapped and stared at him with all of his eyes.
“I’ll.. I’ll think of something.” Martin retreated back to where Jonathan waited.
“He’s no Albrecht,” Jonathan said.
Martin just sighed. At least Albrecht seemed to want Martin, but Jon had been distant. He hadn’t spoken to Martin more than absolutely necessary since Jonah died- possibly even well before… that. He wasn’t going to get another chance was he? He chose saving the world by killing Jonah over the man who had killed Jonah last time and he wasn’t going to be forgiven.
Jon looked at Duchess. She seemed depressed without Jonah. At least someone understood. He gently stroked her fur as she hopped up and settled on his cold, bony lap. Jonah would probably give them both the best meal possible if he saw them now…
He could just imagine it, going to the workhouse with Jonah and picking out a few poor souls with mouthwatering statements. Jonah would revel in Jon taking, telling him all sorts of devious sweet nothings, until he finally felt satisfied. He felt a bit of drool leak from the corner of his lips as he thought about what kind of statement he would get… and thought about seeing Jonah again.
Once he got back to reality, he wiped his eyes and realized he was crying. He hated reality. Where he was alone and starving and no one looked at him like he was something to be revered or even given basic respect. Jonathan and Young looked at him like he was a threat. Martin looked at him with pity. Jon didn’t know which was worse.
Martin made his choice. None of this would have happened if he listened to Jon and they stayed in the apocalypse instead of letting the Fears spread like a disease across reality. No. Martin chose to stab him to save the world. He still had the scar and it ached horribly. Jon put a hand to his chest… some of his scars had started opening. It was dreadfully inconvenient.
Maybe he should sneak out of the house and go to the workhouse… he could find a statement there…
Or he could get shot and dragged back. He didn’t even think he had the strength to walk to the workhouse in his condition anyway. And he didn’t know if a bullet wound would even heal anymore. The softly weeping wounds certainly wouldn't.
But he had to try. He wasn't ready to die. Was that wrong of him? To want to live?
“Martin.” Jonathan said quietly, “We really should think of ways to put him out of his misery.” He tried again.
Martin shook his head, “No. We can help him. There has to be a way to deal with this that doesn’t involve him dying.” They fought too hard for this.
Jon Knew what they were saying… Would anyone notice if he slipped out the back door? Or used a window? He gently shooed Duchess off his lap, gave another little scratch on her chin, then stood on shaky, thin legs. He could get to the workhouse. The delicious workhouse where there would be a statement about someone… he didn’t even care which fear he just needed. Maybe a few statements. A feast of statements to fill more than the emptiness of his belly. He was salivating at the thought.
Jonathan and Martin didn’t realize he was gone for a little too long. Martin felt a pang of dread, but Jonathan felt a thrill run up his spine.
“Where do you suppose he is?” Jonathan felt the urge to chase.
“Maybe he went to use the latrine?” Martin tried.
“Martin, he hasn’t eaten food in the entire time I’ve been here. Unless that’s what he’s doing now. Feeding.”
Jon didn’t get far- he didn’t need to. He saw a carriage coming down the road and Knew who was in it. A man who Jon had, some time ago, promised take statement from… and what a statement it would be… His mouth was watering again.
Smirke stepped out of the carriage, holding a package. He was immediately met with the most hellish sight he had ever seen. Jon was staring at him like he was little more than a meal, hundreds of eyes staring into his soul, from a sunken frame that looked halfway in the grave.
Smirke stepped backwards “Oh- oh good god.” he looked back at his carriage to see if he could run away.
“I promised to take something from you.” Jon stepped closer slowly, eyes locked on Smirke’s face. “Give it to me.”
Smirke went pale, “When I was a younger man I met Maxwell Rayner at a party. We started talking and the conversation went to a debate about how to make the most inhospitable building. I don’t know how but the conversation had gone from the hypothetical design of the building, to what exactly it was that people feared about darkness, to what the nature of fear was. Rayner was curious about it and was looking to find a way to categorize them. And out of pure curiosity, I decided to look into these patterns. The similarities as well as learning more about what Rayner actually was… they led me to discover that these weren’t just patterns of related horrors or coincidences but rather the fourteen fears. I met him again at another party and was eager to discuss what I had found in an empty room. After all, this was hardly a proper subject to be speaking about in polite company. But this time… this time he said I was clever, and urged me to join the darkness where we would bathe in the void of a world without the sun. I refused, obviously, and he… the lights began to go out and I had nothing to keep the darkness at bay. I was trapped and… it was alive and it wanted to harm me. I only got away because someone else walked into the room and gave me a light to guide myself towards. I have not seen Rayner since and I count myself lucky for that.”
Jon took a deep breath in. Some of the color had returned to his face and the hollows of his cheeks were not quite as pronounced. He still didn’t look well by any means… He was still hungry, but he could finally think about something else.
Smirke hurried away from him, covering his mouth, while his eyes screamed violation. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded in a shaking voice.
“Pardon my wretched manners, though I doubt they can get any worse than yours. I haven’t eaten anything substantial since Jonah died…”
Smirke frowned, “What do you mean died?”
“They didn’t tell you? They shot him. Twice.”
Smirke clutched a parcel to his chest. “I should… talk to the others then…”
Jon’s eyes snapped to the parcel. “What is that?”
“A collection of statements. From Jonah Magnus.”
Jon blinked for the first time in this conversation, possibly for the first time this week. “From Jonah?” How was that possible? Had he instituted some sort of dead man’s switch? Was he taking care of Jon from beyond the grave? Jon felt a wave of affection for his dead fiance… and a rush of longing.
Unless… What if he wasn’t dead? Lukas had taken the body. Maybe he found a way to nurse him back to health in Moorland. Most people didn’t survive getting shot in the face but Jonah was an avatar…
What if Lukas transferred his eyes?
“I didn’t see him in person but he signed it… I’m going to talk to the others.” Smirke knew it was a bad idea to give these to the one who served a dread fear power.
Tears started to well up in Jon’s eyes and his voice tightened. “Is Jonah alive?”
“Not if there’s a just god.” Smirke muttered as he went towards the house.
Jon hovered close. He wanted those statements. He wanted a piece of his fiancee back. He needed it.
When Smirke and Jon reached the house, Martin was standing at the door looking distressed. Smirke eyed Martin warily and scooted away from Jon. “Where is the good doctor?”
“Practically tearing up the house looking for Jon. We were concerned you might have run away and gotten yourself hurt. Or kidnapped again.” Martin tried to joke.
“How thoughtful.” Jon stared at Martin. “Tell Smirke to give me the statements.”
“The what?” Martin looked at Smirke. “What statements?”
Smirke clutched the parcel tighter. “What statements indeed. I need to speak with the doctor immediately.”
“Let me take you to him.” Martin led them both inside and then dragged Smirke into the library where Jonathan was creeping around the stacks. Martin closed the door on Jon.
“Martin-” Jon stood there like a cat on the other side of a bathroom door. “Martin just open the door.” He tried to open it himself, rattling the locked handle.
Smirke sat the parcel down. “I got a package of statements. From Jonah Magnus.”
Jonathan snapped to attention and rushed over. “What do you mean you got a parcel from Jonah?”
“I got a parcel. From Jonah. Which I didn’t think too much of except Jon said that Jonah was apparently dead?”
“When did you receive the parcel? Maybe he sent it before we killed him..” Jonathan was a bit worried now.
”MArtin opEn the doOr-” Jon sounded more insistent. At least he had the energy to sound insistent. And to paw at the door like a distressed cat.
“I got them last week. And the thing is… they’re all in French. Every single one. And my French has always been a little lacklustre. I didn’t study it out of spite for Napoleon.” Smirke shrugged. “He made me delay my grand tour.”
“I don't speak French either.” Jonathan admitted.
Both men looked at Martin, who held his hands up. “Don’t look at me.” He really didn’t want them looking at him. It was uncomfortable.
“So we have a pile of statements from a man that should be dead in a language none of us can read.” Smirke concluded.
Martin looked at the door where Jon was still begging to be let in. “Jon speaks French.”
“Are we sure they aren’t some kind of coded message between the two?” Jonathan asked. “Maybe we should just toss the pile...”
“That’s probably the safest option.” Martin nodded. But there could be statements in it… Jon needed those. But he couldn’t risk another statement like the Safehouse.
There was a knock at the front door. Too far away to hear Jon at the library door. Jon was too focused on the library door to bother with it.
“Who’s that?” Smirke asked.
“How should I know?” Fanshawe snapped.
“Maybe we should all answer it? In case it’s Magnus?” Martin said. He felt a chill at the idea. What if it was Magnus?
They nodded and awkwardly filed out of the room. Fanshawe was careful to not let Jon slip past as he closed and locked the door behind him, leaving the statements inside.
There was a beautiful woman on the other side of the door “Hello, My name’s Fiona Brown… I was wondering if I would be able to talk to you all? I have some very concerning information about my uncle.”
Martin eyed her warily, but ultimately had no reason to question her. “What kind of information?”
Meanwhile, Jon was taking advantage of their absence, making quick work of the lock to Jonah’s library.
“Well… it’s really more something he gave me? I don’t quite know how to describe it but it scares me. Would you be able to help me?” She looked at the two of them with big, pleading eyes.
“Of course.” Smirke fell for it instantly. “Can you show me the object?”
Jon worked quickly, taking a few of the statements from the package that called to him the most. He closed the package up just as he found it and slipped away with the statements he grabbed. They wouldn’t notice a few missing until it was too late, and he desperately wanted a statement… And Jonah.
“It’s a table… and a large container of papers? Like the ones he collects?”
“Statements.” Smirke muttered. “Of course, show me to them.”
Fiona brought her carriage around, waiting until Jonathan opened the door for her to step in.
Martin hesitated. “Maybe one of us should stay here?”
“Nonsense. We locked the door and Sims can’t pass through walls like some people.” Smirke gave Martin a side-eye. “He won’t go anywhere while the parcel is in the room. Besides, we have a little damsel in distress here- who could say no to that?” He smiled at Fiona.
Martin knew there was a reason why he shouldn’t leave Jon alone. He couldn’t think of it though. The carriage began moving.
Jon locked himself in a closet and began reading the sweet pages. He was so desperate for a remnant of Jonah…
‘Hello Jon,’ The eye translated the French for him.
Apologies for the deception but I needed a way in which to keep the hunters from killing me.’
Jon had never been more glad to read those words, though he really wished Jonah phrased it differently.
‘Were it not for Mordechai Lukas I would likely have joined that choir invisible and there would be no escape from the dreadful position I’m sure you have found yourself in. How is Martin? Is he still insufferable?’
Good Lord he wanted Martin to go away.
‘In any case, it has come to my attention that the life of Jonah Magnus is a tremulous sort of thing that could be cut short at any moment, especially with the new band of people who have made it their sole mission in life to hunt me down and kill me.
But now, in a means to escape this end and create a life that the two of us could truly enjoy, I find that it is time to bring about that beautiful world that both of us have longed for. A place of fear, of power, of knowledge, and sight. This time, not as your tormentor but as your temptor. The world of fear is filled with succulent morsels and I’m sure the call of the Eye to complete the ritual is even stronger for you. I can only imagine what euphoria it would be to complete the ritual.’
Jon knew where this was going. His heart was racing and this time, it was from excitement.
‘Do you remember when I proposed to you? I decided to share my ambitions and what I could of my heart. I promised to ruin you and you still agreed to take my hand. I didn’t know then how deeply you would impact my life and now, I can’t think of a single person I would want by my side in the end more than you.
Have you thought about it? I understand you have your reluctance but think about what you could have and what you have now. Surely there is a better outcome for us. One in which we can share the panopticon and be the undying kings of this beautiful frightened world. And I’m sure the cat will enjoy it as well.
Now. Take a breath and flip the page. I think you know what is coming.’
Jon flipped the page, hands trembling. Jonah was alive. Jonah was okay and they were about to finally do this… He was going to have everything he could want…
Fiona smiled. She could feel something coming, watching from just outside of this reality and eager to take hold in this world. The preparations at Hilltop were complete, just as the Mother wanted. Gathering the energy, binding the threads… whatever she needed to do to make sure this ritual succeeded. There was a piece missing, but the Mother had prepared something else- Somewhere Else. It would work. A perfect interconnected hub…
The trapped ones, those who cannot breathe-
Jonathan looked at her face. He could feel it too. The blood roaring all too loudly in his ears. He met Fiona’s eyes and he felt a cold dread wash over him. They had been fooled. Fiona laughed like she was the only one sitting atop a rollercoaster while everyone else stared down at their deaths.
The ones controlled in web that’s weaved-
“Who are you?” Jonathan asked. “Not your name- but who do you serve?”
Fiona had no further reason to hide… And she had been wearing such a lovely dress for her debut. She let her shawl fall, showing the beautiful web designs on her gown that Annabelle so lovingly made for her. “Isn’t it obvious?”
A man who burns in painful blaze-
Smirke stared in horror, “What game are you playing- where are you really taking us?” He remembered Jonah’s fight with the Web.
The man who fights with violent rage-
“Oh that’s simple. Away from the Archive. He has work to do, and I can’t have you interrupting him.” Fiona smiled confidently.
The hunters, hunted end their chase-
Jonathan tried to open the door of the carriage and jump out but it was stuck. “I’ll kill you!” he yelled.
The strange one grins a stolen face-
“There’s no need for that.” Her grin didn’t fade. They were far enough that they couldn’t stop Jon if they tried. The door swung open on his second try.
The prisoners fear the final flight-
Jonathan dove out of the carriage and rolled in the dirt. Smirke felt cold and numb. What had he allowed to happen? He failed… He fell to this witch’s tricks and failed to protect the world.
The ones who crave the smallest light-
“What can your goal even be?” Martin yelled, his hands shaking. He couldn’t do this again. “You already won! You got my world! You got everywhere! What could the Web even want?” He left Jon alone with the statements… the ones from Jonah…
The sick, the filthy and, the rotten-
“Yes, the Fears have spread, but if the Web is good at one thing, it's connecting the pieces…” She opened a fan to wave at her face. It, too, had a web design.
Jonathan was up and sprinting toward the house. Maybe he could run fast enough to keep him from doing the ritual.
The ones who are alone, forgotten-
Martin wrung his hands. Maybe Jon wouldn’t- he couldn’t could he? Jon tried to die to keep the fears from spreading. He wouldn’t do another ritual. Martin knew he was lying to himself. This Jon wasn’t his Jon. Not anymore.
Mordechai Lukas sat in the library of Moorland. It was nice while it lasted, he supposed. But if the world was to end… falling to Jonah and having a domain of his own might not be so bad.
A twisted labyrinth of lies-
But.. no. That was Martin.Jon didn’t want the apocalypse to end but he couldn’t stand to let Martin die there while he remained.
“Martin?” Fiona smiled, the same smug predatory smile as her uncle. “Is everything alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost~”
The ones who cannot help but die-
Smirke was hyperventilating. He had delivered the very thing needed to end the world to the person who could end it. All of his work… his efforts to save the world had been the very thing to damn it. Everything he had ever done had lead to this moment.
And you, the one who watches all-
Jon could feel the thrill of it run through him. He felt like he was finally going home.
Jonah stood in the panopticon, feeling the power. It was incredible. He didn’t know if he was floating or falling as the prisoners screamed around him. Their fear, Jon’s fear… it was all a conduit. The Watcher’s Crown… and Jonah was the king.
Listen to your servant’s call-
Jonathan reached the door to the house and threw it open. He was going to kill Jon. Or shake him vigorously enough he’d bite his own tongue off.
I give these offerings to you-
He ran up, up the stairs to the library.
Young felt the thrill of the chase but decided to stay home. Her children looked at her as if they too felt the fear. She held onto them like she could shield them from what she knew was coming. Cecil Junior buried his face against her and shook, though he didn’t know the true horror of what was to come.
So that you may, at last, break through-
Jon wasn’t in the library… the package sat there on the table where they left it, but the door was unlocked.
I call your omnipresent stare-
Jonathan started frantically looking through the rooms. Martin watched as the sky darkened in a familiar way.
Smirke howled like a hunted animal and clung to Martin as if Martin could make it stop.
Drink in all the fear that is theirs!
George Gilbert Scott and his fiancee looked up at the sky. The sky was beginning to look back. “The man did it” he whispered “That crazy ratbag did it.” He wondered what the ritual would mean for them.
Jonah’s mother closed the shutters against the dreadful storm forming outside. She was glad that Mary had decided to stop by for tea with the rest of her family. She didn’t want to be left alone right now.
Fleming stopped in his tracks. He had been job hunting after finding the institute burned down, but now… He didn’t think he’d need a job anymore, seeing the eye form in the sky.
Von Closen’s sons stopped what they were doing and looked up with a looming sense of dread. They had felt something like this before when their father was sick. “Ein Auge-” Oskar pointed upwards.
Cynthia felt a familiar chill run up her spine as the fog began to settle around her. She held her child close, but it provided no comfort. Laura, the woman she had been befriending these few weeks, put her arm around Cynthia’s shoulder, Laura’s other hand holding onto her daughter’s. “We will get through this.”
Cynthia shook her head. “No we won’t.”
Come to me; this world shall be yours-
Jonathan burst into the room, fear in his eyes. “Stop!” he yelled as if that would do anything.
I OPEN THE DOOR!