Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Brianna had been through a lot this past nine months. She’d argued with ghosts and danced with aliens. She’d traveled to other worlds, other times, even another universe once, and everything she knew had been upended over and over again.

So, when she felt a prickle on the back of her neck, a chill down her spine, a faint shivering draft along the ground, she didn’t dismiss it as nothing. But she also didn’t get up to investigate, only pulled her jacket a little tighter and kept working on the paper she was writing.

When she’d first joined the Doctor on his adventures, she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing homework on the trips, but her astrophysics PHD wasn’t going to earn itself.

She might need to scrap her dissertation again and start over. It was so hard to decide what to study, e specially since some of the more interesting options—like the fact that the laws of nature seemed to work a bit differently depending on the planet you were visiting—weren’t an option. It might be hard to get her advisors to believe she’d actually been to other planets.

The door to the little private library the TARDIS had made for her slammed open and she jumped.

“Aah! Doctor!”

“Did you feel that?” he asked. He was drawn tight like a violin string, tense and listening.

“Feel what?” Brianna asked. “That chill a few moments ago? I figured whatever caused it will try and kill us in its own time and getting worked up about it wouldn’t matter.”

The Doctor didn’t seem to find that amusing. He didn’t even seem to be listening to her, just… staring off into the distance.

Then a shudder ran through the floor beneath her feet.

She frowned. “I felt that .” Is something wrong with the TARDIS?”

The Doctor turned and vanished from the doorway without answering. Brianna looked at her half-written research paper, sighed, and shoved it back in her satchel with all her notebooks.

They had been planning to have a nice little trip to a vacation planet of some sort, but she should have known. The Doctor always said it would be a holiday before dragging them into a war zone or an apocalypse or otherwise getting them into huge heaps of trouble.

She wouldn’t have it any other way, of course. You could go on holiday back on Earth. You couldn’t usually broker peace between warring alien races or solve trillion-year-old mysteries there.

Brianna followed the Doctor into the main room where he was busy fiddling with the controls of the TARDIS, glancing between all the screens and displays with a look of worried confusion.

“How’s that paper coming?” He asked, which seemed a little irrelevant, given how he was acting.

“Mm,” Brianna said, then repeated herself. “Is there something wrong with the TARDIS?”

“Find anything helpful in the books?”

“No,” Brianna said. “I found one good one, but it turns out it hasn’t been written yet so I can’t actually reference it.”

The floor shuddered under her feet again, harder, and she grabbed a pipe coming off of the wall to steady herself.

“Doesn’t it bother you that almost everything you write to please those dusty old academics is wrong? Also, don’t touch that.”

Brianna released the pipe and stepped over to where she could grab onto a railing instead.

“Having incomplete information doesn’t make them entirely wrong,” she said. She really didn’t think this sort of argument was productive, but she was not fond of being told her life’s work was a lie, and so she got sucked into them even when she tried not to.

“No,” the Doctor said. “Being wrong makes them wrong.”

Brianna rolled her eyes. “Are you going to tell me if there’s something wrong with the TARDIS?”

“No,” the Doctor said.

“No you won’t tell me or...?”

“Something is absolutely wrong,” the Doctor said, and another shudder swept over the walls and floor. “But if she would just… let me look at it…”

“Look at what?” Brianna hesitantly left the safety of the railing and walked up behind the Doctor. He was looking at a screen, but it was just white noise to her.

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said, stepping back to stand next to her. He didn’t glance over, still staring at the screen, searching. But the expression on his face…

Another chill ran down her spine. She’d only seen that look in his eyes once or twice before, and it was never a good thing.

“Doctor?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “But she’s… afraid of something.”

Brianna blinked. “The TARDIS?”

“Yes,” The Doctor said. He looked at her and the fear in his eyes hid behind concern for her now. “I think I’ll take you home.”

“No, wait,” Brianna said, taking a step back from him. “I don’t think so. That never goes well. I think I’m safest with you, wouldn’t you agree? After last time. And this… if the TARDIS is scared, then…”

“Safety may not exist anywhere.”

The TARDIS shuddered again.

“Well…" Brianna frowned. "That’s not what I was going to say, but, um… that’s… how bad is this?”

The Doctor didn't answer, just turned back to the displays. “I can’t even get her to look at whatever it is she’s so frightened of.” He sighed and turned them off. “I’m going to step outside.”

“Wait—”

“If I’m not back in half an hour, the TARDIS will take you somewhere… safer.”

“If you’re not—Doctor, I—”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

“But—”

“If she can see it, I might be able to see it as well, and then we’ll know what it is, and we can come up with a plan.”

The TARDIS shivered again.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” the Doctor said, and threw open the doors. “Brianna, try to keep her calm. I don’t want to be left floating in space if she bolts while I’m out there.”

“Wha… I can’t—”

He slipped out and closed the door behind himself.

Brianna stared after him for a moment. Then she took in a few slow, deep breaths, and approached the controls. They trembled under her fingers.

“As if I can do anything… I mean, he talks about you like you have feelings, but I didn’t think…”

Another shudder.

“It’s alright, it's alright,” she said quickly. “He’ll be back before we know it, all excited about seeing something he’s ‘never seen before’ and, well, he won’t know exactly what to do at first, but he’ll figure it out like he always does. I haven’t even traveled with him for a year yet, and I know that.”

But the TARDIS had been with him for all of his adventures, and it—she—was scared… what did that mean?

The shivering actually did quiet down to a soft, worried humming, and Brianna tried to stay calm as the minutes ticked by. She tried not to imagine the Doctor stumbling back in, haggard and afraid, or dying out there, frozen, killed by… some indescribable cosmic enemy. Having to haul his corpse back in or leave him and flee…

When the doors opened it startled her so badly, she bumped into something that set the TARDIS rocking and turned the lights blue.

The Doctor lost his footing and nearly fell out the doors, but managed to clamber in and slam them behind himself. He grumbled at her as he set everything right again, but he did look excited, and still afraid under that.

“Did you see what it is?” Brianna asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said matter-of-factly. “It appears to be some sort of spider.”

Brianna blinked. “Um…” was he joking?

“What?” he asked with some of his usual humor, some of that spark in his eyes, which reassured her, but also irritated her.

“You’re telling me that the TARDIS is afraid of… a spider.”

“Don’t shame her for her phobias,” the Doctor said in mock reproach. “Everyone’s afraid of something harmless.”

“Doctor!”

“Well, in her defense,” he contended. “It’s a rather large spider.”

Brianna narrowed her eyes. “How large?”

“Oh… a few million lightyears across if I had to guess.”

“W-what?”

“It’s far enough away I got a decent look at it,” he said. “But I’m still not exactly sure what it is.”

“That’s… incomprehensibly big.”

“Is it?”

“Is it? That’s… there’s really a… that’s at least ten times as big across as the milky way galaxy.”

“Could have been bigger,” the Doctor said. “It’s hard to judge perspective. And I’m not sure it’s entirely corporeal anyway.”

“Well, it can’t be,” Brianna said. “It would collapse in on itself.”

“Not necessarily,” the Doctor said.

Brianna opened her mouth to argue, but realized she didn’t want another lecture about how the laws of nature didn’t fit into the neat little boxes she wanted them to.

“So,” she said. “A giant spider the size of a thousand galaxies. Is that all?”

“Hmm,” the Doctor said. “Well… while I was looking at it, trying to figure out what it was…”

“Go on?”

“It may have… looked back for a moment. I think it saw me."

The TARDIS shuddered.

Brianna crossed her arms. "S-something that big..."

"I know," the Doctor said. "Very good eyesight. Now, the next questions are: One, where did it come from? Two, what does it want? And Three, what is it going to do? Once we’ve answered these we’ll be able to start working on what to do about it.”

“Not to, ah… put us in perspective here, but what can we do about something on that scale? And… maybe it’s just passing through? I mean, even planets and stars are just specks of dust compared to it, if it’s as big as you say.”

“No,” the Doctor said. “It’s not just passing through. Do you think the TARDIS would be afraid of a passive force, no matter how large? No, it’s intentional—insidious--and it’s here for us.”

“Us?”

“All of us,” the Doctor said. “Every planet, every population, every sapient species, maybe even every universe. It has that look about it.”

Brianna swallowed, tying to keep the fear down.

Silence fell between them.

At least she’d been right about him coming back into the TARDIS full of energy and excitement. He was still afraid, though. He was probably more afraid than she had ever seen him.

Then the TARDIS lurched suddenly to the side and Brianna lost her footing and went lurching back to clutch the railing. The TARDIS shook and rocked and spun.

“Oh, clever!” The Doctor cried, clinging to the control panel. “Very clever!”

“What’s—aah!—clever?” Brianna demanded as the TARDIS whipped around, thrashing and spinning nauseatingly.

“The spider’s drawing us in!” The Doctor said. “It did see me, and it’s got us caught! We’re flailing like a fish on the end of a line.”

“You’re very happy about this for some reason!” Brianna accused.

“Ever been a fish on the end of a line, Brianna?” He ignored her. “Really makes you question the morality of the sport! This is what it feels like!”

“Can you stop it? Pull back? Break the line?”

“Brianna, this thing shot some sort of supernatural web at us from lightyears away and it’s pulling us in many times faster than the speed of light. Do you really think the TARDIS has the power to snap that sort of a line?”

“Then what are you so happy about?”

“It saw us from all that distance!” the Doctor shouted over the banging and desperate blaring of alarms. “We’re too small to make much of a meal for it, I think.”

“Yeah, you think?”

“So that can only mean one thing!”

“What?”

“It’s clever!”

“Oh, wonderful! Brianna said. “I’m so glad the cosmically huge malevolent spider is clever!”

“It’s recognized us as a threat!” the Doctor said. “And it’s trying to eliminate us!”

“I’m still not seeing the upside to this!”

“The upside,” The Doctor exulted. “Is that probably means we are a threat! And the other upside is that I’m clever too!” He activated the TARDIS and for a moment everything was shaking and spinning even harder, and Brianna shut her eyes and clutched at the railing tightly as she knelt, waiting for it to be over.

And then it was.

Everything went still and quiet.

Cautiously, Brianna opened her eyes, to see the Doctor staring, triumphant, down at the panel.

He was too triumphant, though.

Bravado, she thought. He still didn’t know what it was. He still didn’t have a plan. It had grabbed them from halfway across the universe…

Had it pulled them all the way in?

“What happened?” she asked.

“We slipped the hook,” the Doctor said. “And swam to the bottom of the pond.”

“But you said we couldn’t—”

“I said we couldn’t break the line. But there were holes in its net. And now we’re somewhere I’m fairly confident it can’t see us.”

“Fairly confident?”

“Ninety-seven percent.”

“And… where is that?”

“You won’t like it.”

Brianna hesitated. “Because it’s somewhere I don’t want to be, or because it’s scientifically impossible?”

The Doctor grinned and nodded toward the door. “Come on,” he said.

Brianna got up, taking stock of the bruises and scrapes she’d picked up in all the bashing around. The Doctor was right about one thing—she was never going fishing again.

He paused before opening the doors and stroked the wall gently. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I would never have let it take you. We’re safe here.” He opened the door and strolled out. Brianna patted the wall awkwardly as well on her way out.

This… really wasn’t good, was it? The TARDIS scared, the Doctor threatening to send her home, to keep her out of danger. His cheerful bravado while they were being reeled in by the cosmically enormous spider.

They stepped out of the TARDIS into a big, mostly empty storage room. The walls had long, strips of light in them, and the crates and tarp-covered furniture-shaped stuff had blinky bits and glowing labels. Space station of some kind, maybe? It had normal gravity, but apparently the whole universe had earth-like gravity, which was something the Doctor had never managed to explain to her in a satisfactory way, but she supposed she shouldn’t complain about not having to deal with any kind of gravity sickness or atmospheric differences between planets. Some things, you just had to accept.

She followed the Doctor out of the large storage room into a wide hallway full of the usual space station hustle and bustle. Everyone kept staring at them, though, like… well, like they were aliens from outer space, which they were.

“So, where are we?” she said again, trying to ignore the stares.

“Inside a black hole,” the Doctor said, and stopped by a big sliding door and pressed a button to the side of it. It looked like some sort of elevator.

“Ah,” Brianna thought about it as they waited for the doors to open. “Yeah, I don’t like that at all. We ought to be in… individual atoms.”

“We’re always made up of individual atoms.”

“You know what I mean,” Brianna said.

“Well, none of your scientists can see past the event horizon of a black hole—”

“And that means anything could be inside,” Brianna rolled her eyes. “Even if it breaks the laws of physics.”

“Exactly!” The Doctor said.

“That was meant to be sarcastic.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

“Now,” the Doctor continued. “I said your scientists can’t see into the event horizon of a black hole, which is true, but I shouldn’t single them out. No one and nothing can see into a black hole from the outside. But the exact opposite is true from the inside. You can see practically everything in the universe and even beyond if you know what you’re doing.”

Brianna shook her head, but didn’t argue that that was ridiculous.

“What? That seems quite logical to me.”

She glared.

The elevator stopped and let them out into another, similar hallway. She supposed… she had seen things in the past nine months that were more scientifically egregious than a space station inside a black hole.

The Doctor kept talking about the station as they walked down the hall, catching stares from even more people. “These are the descendants of the first researchers to come here. Some of them actually might be your descendants too. They made a slight miscalculation when entering the black hole in the first place, and the station, which won’t technically be built for another several thousand years, ended up in the distant past. They weren’t too upset, though—they got to watch and document the evolution of almost every sapient race in the universe!”

B rianna followed him through a door onto what appeared to be an observation deck, and she froze. There was a huge dome window above and the sky..

The sky was full of vibrant, swirling colors, like the iridescent skin of a soap bubble, shimmering, mesmerizing.

“Nice, isn’t it?” the Doctor said.

This, this was why she put up with all the nonsense. Moments like this.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“The sky on the inside of a black hole,” the Doctor said. “You’d expect it to be black, wouldn’t you? But no, it’s black on the outside because all the light gets trapped on the inside. ”

In this case, she didn’t care whether that made sense scientifically. She could ignore that when it made beautiful sights like this for her to see. She held out her arms and watched the colorful light dance across her skin. “It’s like living stained glass.”

“Ooh, no not at all,” the Doctor said. “I can take you to see some of that one of these days, though.”

“If we don’t get eaten by a cosmic spider.” She looked over and realized everyone in the entire room was staring at them.

“Who are you ?” a guy in what looked like a security guard uniform asked.

The Doctor looked over. “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’m the Doctor.”

Brianna smiled. She always liked this part.

“What—what doctor?” another man asked.

“It’s ‘Who’ actually,” Brianna said, following as the Doctor crossed the room.

The guard stepped forward to stand between them and the rest of the people around the computers.

“There’s no need for that,” the Doctor said. “I just need those display screens on that wall…”

There was the usual bit of bickering, and the 'who are you' and 'how did you get here' and 'you're not authorized' and after a few minutes someone was sent to fetch the Director of the space station, who showed up two minutes later looking anxious in his crisp, sci-fi-looking suit.

He approached and held out a hand “D-Director Garrison,” he said. “I… there are protocols for if you show up… you’re really the Doctor? ”

The Doctor shook his hand. “Who else would be able to get onto the station without ending up as individual atoms?” He smirked at Brianna who smiled back thinly. “It’s good to meet you. Now, if you'd kindly call your people off so I can use your viewing screens, there's something I need to investigate.”

“Yes…” the man said, and waved the stubborn guards and technicians away. They moved, making space for the Doctor, who didn’t bother with the dials and buttons and keyboards, instead pulling out his sonic screwdriver and aiming it at the console in front of him.

The screens on the wall fuzzed in and out, with the various images of galaxies and planets and stars shifted colors and saturation, washed out with white noise and came back.

“Aha!” the Doctor said, and the screens suddenly changed, making a panoramic of the nearby galaxies, and the thing the TARDIS had been afraid of appeared among them.

More than one person screamed. Brianna had to clench her teeth and dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from joining them.

“There she is,” the Doctor said. “What a beauty.”

Brianna felt like she was going to be sick.

Displayed on the screens was… was…

Well, it was not what Brianna had pictured when the Doctor had called the thing a ‘spider’. Did it have eight legs? She wasn’t even sure—they were all tangled up somehow. As for eyes—there were definitely more than eight.

It dragged itself on its mismatched limbs. One would flail out, twitching and spasming with sharp, jagged edges, then the next would start forward, unfathomably long and ponderous, and then a pale bulbous stump would writhe out into the front. It scrabbled through the sea of stars on its twisted, malformed legs, and that was bad enough, but the real horror was the eyes and teeth.

It was covered in them—some glassy, some focused, others dull and lifeless. And teeth sprouted from every ragged edge, sawing against each other with a noise Brianna couldn’t hear, but could feel buzzing in her bones.

No, this was not what she had pictured. It was nothing like a spider, and yet it evoked that form on some subliminal level such that looking at it made her skin prickle as if she was covered in them—tiny legs scuttling up and down her limbs.

There really wasn’t a better word for it than ‘spider’ –there wasn’t really a word at all.

A thud from nearby drew her attention, and she saw that one of the people who’d been sitting at the computers had full-on passed out.

“What is that?” the security guard who’d questioned them asked, voice trembling.

“Not a clue,” the Doctor said. “I’m not quite… it’s… familiar somehow. Brianna, do you find it familiar at all?”

“Uh…” Brianna said. “ No. I think I’d remember if I saw anything like that… outside of my worst nightmares that is.”

“Hmm,” the Doctor said. “Interesting.”

“Can you um… focus the screens on something else?” Brianna asked. “I think I’m going to be sick. I really do.”

“I need to observe it,” the Doctor said. “But if it’s bothering you, you’re welcome to return to the TARDIS. It is quite unpleasant, I suppose.”

“Quite unpleasant?” Brianna said, unable to tear her eyes away.

The Doctor glanced back at her, and past her, mouth turned down in concern. He reached over and tapped a few keys on the computer so the screens went blank. “Come on, all of you—here, let me help with him.”

The Doctor gently ushered them out of the room, helping to carry the unconscious man.

Brianna caught the door before he closed himself in.

“You sure you’ll be alright on your own?” she asked.

He smiled at her, comforting. “Oh, I’ll be fine. Can you find your way back to the TARDIS?”

Brianna nodded.

“Go check on her for me? Look her over for any dings or scratches… or more particularly webs, but if you see any, don’t touch them.”

Brianna nodded again, more seriously this time.

“Good. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She let him close the door, and had a few words with the shell-shocked director about not disturbing the Doctor unless it was important. Then she found what she assumed—and hoped—was a trash can, and was sick into it.

After that, she made her way back to the TARDIS, combed every external centimeter of it for cobwebs or scratches, but found nothing.

The TARDIS doors were unlocked, and she found a blanket and pillow and dragged them under the controls to wait.

She didn’t sleep—how could she with that thing burned into the back of her eyelids—but she lay there, eyes open, until she wasn’t so scared and then paced around the TARDIS until she was almost bored.

Eventually, she couldn’t bear it.

“I’m going to check on him,” she announced, feeling a little silly to be talking to the TARDIS, but the Doctor did, so…

She left and headed back to the elevator. It took her a few tries with the controls to get to the right floor, but she made it eventually.

There were two guards she hadn’t seen before at the doors, and they stopped her as she tried to enter.

“Miss,” one of them said. “This area is restricted for—”

“I’ve already seen it,” she said.

“And you’re willing to go back in?” the other guard stared at her. “Wait… you’re the woman who came with him . I don’t recognize you from the station.”

She nodded. “I have to check on him,” she said. “Please.”

They reluctantly opened the doors for her and she went in, trying not to look at the creature on the screens, holding up a hand to block it.

The Doctor sat in a rolling chair that was pushed back to the center of the room, and was contemplating the twisting, convulsing spider thing as if it were a particularly interesting piece in an art gallery.

He spun in the chair as Brianna approached.

“Ah,” he said. “Perfect timing.”

“Oh, great,” Brianna said, but the sarcasm wasn’t very strong. “What now?” She was glad to see him in high spirits, but she was still worried that was a mask. This thing… this wasn’t something you could smile at.

“Two questions down, two to go,” the Doctor said, and spun the chair back toward the computers, kicking off the ground to push himself, rolling back to the controls.

“What it’s doing,” he zoomed out.

Brianna gasped when she saw it.

“What a spider does,” the Doctor said. “Of course.”

“It’s… setting up a web,” Brianna breathed.

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “It’s already caught hundreds of planets in it.” He zoomed in on a lump in one thick branch of the construction—a sphere cocooned tightly in web.

“I believe the inhabitants of the planets are still alive,” the Doctor said. “I can sense them faintly, screaming.”

“That’s horrible."

The Doctor nodded, cheerful demeanor slipping a bit.

“But,” Brianna said. “If they’re alive, that means we can save them.”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s the idea.”

“What other question have you answered?”

“I know where it came from.”

“Really?” Brianna perked up. “Where?”

“Nowhere remarkable,” he said. “A small, lonely universe—one with only a single inhabited planet.”

“Let me guess,” Brianna tilted her head to the side.

“Earth.” the Doctor nodded. “But it came from that Earth, and pushed its way through—not directly to us. It’s been eating through universes like the very hungry caterpillar, growing if the size of the holes it’s torn in the fabric of reality are any indication.”

“Hmm… does that… help at all? Knowing that?”

“The more we know, the better our chances of putting a stop to it. I still think… I’ve come across this before—though maybe not in this form. It feels like...a neighbor’s dog that’s gone rabid—a household pest that’s been allowed to breed out of control. It’s right at the edge of my perception, but I can’t quite place it…”

Brianna wrapped her arms around herself. “Thanks for those lovely metaphors.”

“The other question that still bothers me is what it wants.”

“Maybe… to eat planets?” Brianna suggested.

“See, that would make some sort of sense,” the Doctor said. “It stands for reason it’s looking for food. It has the appearance of a predator, doesn’t it?”

“Very much so.”

“But I haven’t seen it eat any planets, just trap them, screaming and alive, in its web. And besides, like you said, a planet is less than a speck of dust compared to something that big. And it’s only taking inhabited ones, I’ve noticed. So it must want something from the inhabitants—something it is extracting quite unpleasantly.”

Brianna shuddered, still trying to keep her eyes away from the horrifying thing on the screen. 

“We’ll get them out,” the Doctor said, almost to himself. “If it’s not too late.”

She nodded. “So what do we do now?”

“I haven’t given up on answers,” the Doctor said. “But I am feeling impatient. And that’s where that lonely Earth comes in. We’ll have to be quick, and try not to draw the beast’s attention, but if we can take the TARDIS there, we may be able to find someone who can explain. A primary source, if you will.”

“I… thought you said it was difficult for the TARDIS to travel to other universes.”

“It’s a bit easier when something the size of several galaxies has torn a hole through everything between here and there.” He got up from his chair. “So, Brianna, would you like to come harass some locals with me?”

Brianna nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Text

The TARDIS swept over roads that were lit by street lamps and glowing windows and the faintest pre-dawn radiance.

There were too many people awake and about, milling in the streets, crying, screaming, embracing one another, calling the names of missing loved ones. She could hear them faintly when the breeze blew their words up into the sky.

“I have a lot of questions,” she said, legs dangling from the doorway as she looked down.

“That’s why I bring you along on these little outings,” the Doctor said cheerfully.

“Yes, so you can make yourself feel smarter answering them,” Brianna snarked back. “But you don’t fool me. You’re guessing half the time. Anyway, why is the entirety of England up at five in the morning?”

“That’s a good one,” the Doctor said. “Feels like the calm after a hurricane, don’t you think? The morning after a battle.”

“But… nothing’s destroyed,” Brianna said. “All the buildings are still… everything looks normal.”

“Sure about that?” The Doctor leaned out of the TARDIS and pointed. “Look over there, down in that street…”

Brianna looked to see one figure lying in the street with another kneeling over them, in an attitude of weeping.

“Some of them are dead,” the Doctor said softly. “Some of them are missing. Others are lost, wandering in places they’ve never been to before, unable to translate the words of the survivors around them. Some have lost parents, or children. Some have lost their minds. And no one will sleep easy for a very long time.”

Brianna looked up to see a distant expression on his face.

The TARDIS took a sharp turn, and Brianna had to hang onto the door frame for fear of falling out.

The Doctor didn’t react. He looked sorrowful, far-off… almost lost.

“Next question,” she said, in part because she wanted to snap him out of it, and in part because the sudden change in direction was uncomfortably reminiscent of being caught in the spider’s net. “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping a low profile in case that thing sees us?”

“It’s gone from here,” the Doctor said. “And it’s not looking for us yet. We’ve gone back in… well, more like sideways in time. But from the creature’s perspective, it still has several millennia before it meets us.”

Brianna shuddered. “If you say so,” she said, but was not entirely convinced. “So, we’re flying over quite a few potential locals to harass. Are we looking for someone in particular or…?”

“I think we are,” the Doctor said. “Something seems to have caught the TARDIS’s attention…” He frowned down at the ground below, and Brianna followed his gaze to see figures pointing, staring.

“Looks like we’ve been spotted,” she said. “Um… they don’t look happy.”

“Maybe it’s best we went inside,” the Doctor said. “You never know exactly how people in other universes will feel about floating doorways.”

“Mhm,” Brianna got up, then frowned. “Floating doorways?”

The Doctor pulled the doors shut most of the way. “The cloaking is on. The TARDIS is invisible from the outside.”

“It can do that?”

The Doctor nodded. “We’ve passed them…”

“Probably still best to keep it closed,” Brianna said. “If that thing came from here, I’m sure these people have been through a lot. They don’t need interdimensional time travelers spying on them on top of that.”

“Right.” the Doctor shut the door.

“I’m going to go find something else to do until we reach… whatever our destination might be.”

“We seem to be headed toward London.”

“Of course we are,” Brianna shook her head. “Does everything always happen in London in every universe?”

“Not sure,” The Doctor said absently, opening the door a crack again and peering through. “It’s possible.”

Brianna left him there and went to her little library, where she found all the books were in a jumbled mess on the floor, probably a result of the whole flailing fish thing.

She sighed and started picking them up. “Really should put doors on these book cases,” she muttered to herself as she shoved an armful of books back onto a shelf. “This is the third time in less than a year.”

She was nearly finished when she heard the Doctor calling for her. She rushed back into the main room and he opened the door a little wider so she could look. She peered out to see that maybe most of the world was untouched by whatever had happened here, but at least one building had been reduced to rubble—and recently. There were still parts of it on fire.

“We’ll have to move quickly,” the Doctor said. “It’s getting lighter and there are already people approaching the building. Some of them don’t look friendly.”

“Move quickly to do what?”

“I’ve upgraded our harassment plans,” the Doctor said. “This is now a kidnapping.”

“Ooh, lovely,” Brianna said.

“More of a rescue, technically.”

“Nah, kidnapping’s more fun,” Brianna could see what might be a figure kneeling half buried in the rubble, hunched over in an attitude of utter and irreversible defeat. “I've always wanted to alien abduct someone. Is that our... kidnapee?”

The Doctor frowned at her, but didn’t answer as the TARDIS circled and gently landed on a patch of relatively rubble-free ground.

The figure turned out to be a large man with a round face, though he could easily have been mistaken for a chunk of rubble. He was so covered in grime, dust, and blood, that the only visible skin on him was the narrow streaks where tears had washed his face marginally cleaner.

He was cradling a corpse in his arms—also covered in rubble dust, eyes half-open, gaunt and sickly-looking. Brianna might have guessed he was dead even without the blood soaking his shirt and the stained knife lying nearby.

The kneeling man didn’t even seem to notice them at first. He rocked gently, face slack, eyes dull behind cracked and dusty glasses, staring at a fixed point on the ground.

Brianna glanced at the Doctor, doubtful.

The Doctor stepped forward. “Excuse me?”

Oh, God, no. Excuse me? Not ‘Are you okay?’ or ‘How can we help?’ This man looked shell-shocked, traumatized, half-dead, and you didn’t cradle a corpse like that if it wasn’t someone you cared about.

“Um…” the Doctor took another step forward, and the man finally looked up, squinting in the pre-dawn gloom, face a mask of tired reproach.

He looked at the Doctor. He looked at Brianna. And then his gaze locked on the open doors of the TARDIS.

“No,” He recoiled from them, pulling the rag-doll corpse tighter against himself. “No, no, no, no, no, stay back!” A desperate sob crept into his voice. “Go away! Whatever you are, just go away!”

“Shhh!” the Doctor hissed, glancing around. “We need you to come with us.”

“No!” the man tried to back up, then gasped in pain. One of his legs seemed to be trapped under a big slab of concrete.

“Doctor,” Brianna said. “Maybe shut up? He’s terrified.”

“Doctor who?” the man glared.

“Exactly!” the Doctor beamed.

That did not seem to help. A cascade of emotions flitted across the injured man’s face. Horror, anger, confusion, mistrust, pain, despair.

“I said shut up!” Brianna pulled the Doctor back and stepped in between them. “Hey,” she said softly to the man. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help.”

“I-I don’t think so,” the man said. “And I said stay back!”

Brianna hesitated, not sure what to say next.

The corpse in the man’s arms spasmed suddenly. Its eyes flew open and a trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of its mouth.

So… maybe not a corpse after all, at least not yet…?

“No,” the injured man seemed to forget Brianna and the Doctor. “I’m sorry. Don’t…” He put a bloodstained hand over the dying man’s eyes to close them again. “I’m sorry...”

“We… might be able to save him?” Brianna said, glancing to the Doctor for confirmation. “If he’s still alive.”

The Doctor nodded. “Possibly.”

The injured man glared up at her again. “Get me that knife,” he said, then grimaced. “I can’t… can’t reach it. My leg…”

Brianna glanced at the bloodstained knife. “That… doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.”

“Give it to me!” the man said. “If you really want to help me, then give me the knife!”

“So you can…?”

“Put his eyes out,” the man said, then shook his head. “I should have just… I should have thought of that before I… then maybe—maybe he wouldn’t be… why didn’t I…?” the man doubled over his companion, sobbing.

“How’s it going, Brianna?” the Doctor asked.

Brianna looked down at the knife again, then kicked it further away into the rubble. “No,” she said. “I will not… do you even hear how insane that sounds?”

The man’s sobbing gave way to bitter, manic laughing, and then finally quiet again.

He looked up. “What are you still doing here? I’m not going in that…” his eyes flickered to the TARDIS “...that…”

“There is an angry mob brewing,” the Doctor said. “At the edges of this building. I worry what will happen to anyone they find in here.”

The not-quite-corpse shifted again, weakly.

“Yeah? We’ll take our chances with the angry mob. At least they’ll kill us honestly. At least… at least… it’ll be over.”

“I don’t think so,” the Doctor said. “That knife wound should have killed your friend, but it hasn’t quite, has it? You’ll probably die without too much trouble, but how many pieces do you think they’ll have to tear him into before he stops twitching—before he can’t feel it anymore?”

The look the man gave the Doctor sent chills down Brianna’s spine, but Brianna was almost as mad at him—the Doctor wasn’t known as a particularly tactful diplomat, but really?

The trapped man collapsed into weeping again, muttering something to his dying companion about not letting them hurt him, which seemed a bit ironic to Brianna as she was starting to suspect he’d been the one to stab the guy in the first place. She glanced at the Doctor. Did they really think a delusional murderer was going to be able to tell them anything useful?

The Doctor shrugged and glanced behind himself as if to say 'well, the TARDIS brought us here.'

"Look," Brianna addressed their reluctant abductee. "We—"

“When?” the man said through gritted teeth. “When will you just go?”

“We want to help you!”

He glared at her. “Don’t lie to me.”

Brianna considered, then sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, the truth is we need your help.”

The man shook his head. “Really?” he half-laughed. “Me? Look at me!”

“We’re from… well, we’re from another universe… and I know that sounds crazy, but…”

He looked up at her again, this time with a terrible light of understanding in his eyes. “I can’t help you,” he said.

“We just need information,” the Doctor put in. “In return, we’ll do what we can for the two of you, but we have to go quickly.”

The man seemed to actually think about it this time, but then he shook his head. “Go away,” he whispered.

Brianna narrowed her eyes.

“Something dangerous from your universe has made its way to—”

“He knows,” Brianna cut the Doctor off. “As soon as I said where we were from—”

“We couldn’t fight it!” the man said. “There was nothing else we could have done!” He looked down at the man in his arms. “He was going to… but I…”

“Can we talk about this in the TARDIS?”

“Come with us,” Brianna said. “We can put it right.”

“No we can’t.” He shook his head. “I’m not going after them. I can’t go back in. I—”

“You’d rather get torn apart by an angry mob?”

“Yes!” the man said. “Actually, yes!”

Brianna glanced helplessly at the Doctor, who was studying the man with full intensity.

“We can stop this thing for good,” the Doctor said. “You want to pass up an opportunity to do that? What about him? What do you think he would want?”

“How dare you,” the man said.

“Doctor…” Brianna added hesitantly.

“What makes you think you can stop them?" the man said. "You don’t even know what they are. You had to come to us for answers. What are you anyway? If you know so much, why do you need our help?”

“I’m a Time Lord,” the Doctor said. “And I don’t know everything.”

“Oh,” Brianna said. “You’ll admit that to him.”

The injured man looked down at his unconscious companion as if searching for answers in his slack face. When he spoke again, there was the tiniest hint of hope in his voice and Brianna realized that it was the first time in the whole conversation that he’d spoken with anything but despair or anger or fear.

“And you can help him? You can… save him?”

“I can try,” the Doctor said.

“And… you just want information. You’ll let us go. Y-you won’t make us fight them.”

“That’s right,” the Doctor said.

There was a shout and the Doctor looked up sharply. “We’ve been spotted.”

“Here,” Brianna said. “Give him to me. Doctor, can you help—”

“You won’t touch him!”

“No time for arguing,” the Doctor said. “Brianna, help me with this.”

She helped lift the slab of concrete from the injured man’s leg and he crawled half a pace forward and glanced a little too longingly at where Brianna had kicked the knife. But before he could try to do anything crazy, she and the Doctor got on either side of him to help him to his feet.

He needed a lot of help. His arms were occupied already, and he had one good leg at best.

“Okay,” the Doctor said. “Now, let’s walk. Don’t put any pressure on—aah!”

They almost ended up sprawled in a heap on the ground when the man tried to take a step on his crushed leg, but Brianna and the Doctor managed to counterbalance.

With a great deal of effort, they hobbled toward the TARDIS. The man didn’t make a sound, though his leg must be in agony. The look of determination in his eyes did bleed through with panic though, as they walked closer, and at the threshold he snapped and tried to back up.

The Doctor didn’t let him, heaving him in through the door, with Brianna’s help. The man sprawled on top of his unconscious friend with a howl of pain and fear.

Brianna knelt on the floor by them as the Doctor slammed the doors and sprinted over to the controls. She reached out to help the man sit up, but he waved her off and looked around in mounting horror.

“It’s okay,” Brianna told him. “Hey, look at me. You’re okay. You’re safe here.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m. Not. Lying.”

He looked at her, finally. “What… is this place?”

“It’s a space ship,” Brianna said.

The Doctor made an irritated noise from the controls.

“Well,” she amended. “A time and space… and dimension ship. It’s, uh… bigger on the inside.”

“I don’t like that,” the man said, but he seemed to calm down a bit. He looked at the doors.

“We’re probably pretty high up in the air by now,” Brianna said. “So I wouldn’t try it.”

He glanced at his friend, still half-pinned underneath him, and then sighed and shifted, wincing as he shoved away from and off of the smaller man.

His glasses had fallen off. Brianna reached for them and found a clean patch of her shirt to wipe them off on before handing them to him.

He took them and hesitantly balanced them on his grubby nose. “Thanks… and sorry for… well, I’m not normally, um…” He looked down at the unconscious man again.

“Your name?” Brianna asked.

He frowned.

“I’m Brianna,” she held out a hand.

He reluctantly did the same and Brianna pulled back slightly at all the blood and dust and who knew what else coating his fingers.

They locked eyes and he seemed somehow comforted by her hesitance to touch him.

“Martin,” he said, and they shook hands.

It was a bit stickier than Brianna liked, and she wiped her hand off on her dusty shirt afterward.

“You’re… actually a real person, aren’t you?” he said.

“Far as I know,” Brianna said. “Real. Human. Normal.” She jerked her thumb toward the Doctor at the controls. “Him, not so much. Well, he’s real as far as I can tell, but other than that.” she shrugged.

The man looked at the Doctor with distrust.

“I mean, unless I’m having some sort of nine month long psychotic break or something—”

“Don’t,” Martin shut his eyes tightly. “Please.”

“Sorry,” Brianna said. “Yes, I’m real. We’re real.” God, she didn’t even want to know what this poor man had been through.

“So,” the Doctor said. “What can you tell me about that thing?”

“No,” Brianna said firmly before Martin could reply. “Not until we’re safe at the station. And not until we’ve made good on our end of the deal.”

“Thanks,” Martin said and didn’t quite smile.

The Doctor sighed. “Watch out, she’ll adopt you—like that half-drowned cat we found on—”

“She needed our help!” Brianna said. “I wasn’t going to let you throw her back out into the rain! And this is very different to that anyway. These are people, Doctor.” she glanced down at the bedraggled, stabbed, unconscious tag-along. “I will admit he does have a bit of that wet cat look to him.”

She looked back at Martin, hoping that wouldn’t offend him. He was looking down at the man too, not quite smiling, and the expression on his face that told her everything she needed to know about the assumption that the two of them were “friends.”

He reached out and gently closed the man’s eyes, which had opened again at some point.

“That’s a little creepy.”

“Yep,” Martin said.

“What’s his name?”

Martin hesitated.

“It’s okay if…” Brianna sighed. “I have no idea what you’ve been through, but… I suspect we’ll have to earn your trust, and I’m okay with that. You don't have to tell me anything.”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s even possible to trust anyone… well, at least you haven’t done anything horrible yet.”

“Alright,” the Doctor left the controls and walked over. “She’ll fly us to the rift and once we’re back in our own universe, we’ll return to the station. Let’s see what we’re working with.” He knelt on the mostly-dead man’s other side, ignoring Martin’s suspicious gaze.

“Don’t mind him too much,” Brianna said. “He likes to put on a bit of a show, but he’s harmless, pretty much.”

“I am anything but harmless,” the Doctor took the man’s pulse, frowning.

“Doctor.”

“We said we weren’t lying to them.” He looked up at Martin. “I may not be harmless, but I don’t mean the two of you any harm… probably.”

“Probably?” Brianna said. “Doctor you had better not—”

“I haven’t heard their story yet,” the Doctor said, then looked back down at the unconscious man. “Well…” he said. “He’s not dead. He really ought to be at this point. There’s no pulse, and he’s not breathing, but he’s still alive in there.”

Martin sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Oh, really?”

“The last time this happened...”

“This is a recurring thing?” Brianna asked.

“Well… I mean, he wasn’t stabbed last time, but he, um… explosion, collapsing building, that sort of thing. He was in a coma for six months. They said he… ought to have been dead, that he probably wasn’t going to make it. But… well, he pulled through.”

“Hmm,” the Doctor said. “Six months is too long.”

“Could be longer,” Martin said, and added under his breath. “Unless you’ve got any weird death prophets running around who can talk him out of dying, or whatever.”

“Weird death prophets?” Brianna said.

“Don’t ask,” Martin muttered.

“The station has top-of-the-line medical facilities,” the Doctor said. “But it will probably be about an hour before we get there. Do you think he’ll last that long without life support?”

Martin shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s been hours since I… since he… he’s been like this for hours.”

Brianna and the Doctor glanced at each other. Martin had definitely been the one to stab him. The Doctor made to speak, but Brianna shook her head. This man needed medical attention for his leg, and rest, and a shower, and possibly to be assessed by a psychologist. He didn’t need them asking him to explain why he’d stabbed his probably magical probably boyfriend in the chest. That was a conversation for another time.

The Doctor sighed. “Fine,” he said, and got up.

“Uh…” Brianna said. “Is there...anything we can do for him in the meantime?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do,” the Doctor said, and went back to the controls.

“Isn’t he.. didn’t you call him a doctor?”

“Not… a doctor. The Doctor. It’s like… his name or something. I don’t know, it’s a weird cultural thing on his planet. He’s not a medical doctor.”

“He’s not… from your universe’s Earth?”

“Nope.”

“But you are?”

Brianna nodded.

“He… looks human.”

“I know,” Brianna said. “A weird percentage of aliens look pretty much human. Don't ask me to explain why."

Martin shifted, looked down at his crushed leg, and then looked away quickly with a grimace.

“Oh!” Brianna said. “I, um… don’t know how much it will help, but I have some ibuprofen if you want some.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Martin said.

“Be right back.” Brianna scrambled to her feet. She hurried to the library and dug through her emergency Doctor adventure bag for the bottle of Advil, and then went to grab some water from her food stash.

She handed Martin the bottle of water and then frowned dubiously at his hands. In the end, she just shook a few pills onto the cap and passed it to him to take with a swallow of water that turned into him drinking the whole bottle.

“Do you, uh… want some food or anything?”

Martin shook his head. “Not really.”

Silence fell for a few uncomfortable moments.

“Do you… have any questions or anything?”

“I don’t know,” Martin said. “Um… where are we going again?”

“A space station,” Brianna said. “It’s inside a black hole.”

Martin’s eyebrows shot up.

“I know, but it’s safe. We can teleport into it with the TARDIS—that’s this thing.” she gestured around. “And since no information leaves the black hole, the spider thing can’t see us.”

Martin frowned. “Spider thing?”

“The uh… giant space spider thing that’s spinning a web across our entire universe and terrorizing the local planets. You know, the one that came from your universe.”

He frowned.

“What? Doesn’t sound familiar?” She glanced at the Doctor. Had they somehow gotten the wrong universe?

“Well…” Martin said, seeming to puzzle through something. “I guess the Web was always….” He smirked. “Heh. Pulling the strings. Still… a giant space spider?”

“It looks like a giant space spider,” the Doctor corrected. “I’m still trying to figure out exactly what it is.”

Martin looked down.

“I don’t suppose you could enlighten us?” the Doctor said.

“It’s… fear,” Martin said.

Brianna frowned. “What?”

“Of course,” the Doctor said. “Yes, I should have seen that.”

“Seen what?” Brianna said. “Fear? Like… the emotion?”

“Fear incarnate,” Martin said wearily. “The primal fears of every living thing—made real.”

“Oh,” Brianna said.

“And it feeds on fear too, doesn’t it?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah,” Martin said.

“Is… that what it’s doing to those planets?” Brianna asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “That’s why they were screaming.”

Martin looked down with a guilty expression.

“Okay.” Brianna took a deep breath. “We can talk about this later—about how to destroy it. For now—”

“I don't know that you can destroy it.” Martin said. “It’s fear itself. How do you destroy that?”

Brianna looked at the Doctor, who smirked back at her.

“Martin.” She turned to offer him a reassuring smile. “This is like a normal Tuesday for us.”

He stared at her and she saw—once again—a tiny flicker of hope in his eyes.

“I will say,” the Doctor said. “This is a little worse than what we’re normally up against, but it’s not the most significant evil I’ve dealt with, just… a particularly nasty one.”

“I guess that’s true,” Brianna said. “Not too many things can force you into hiding. And it did grab the TARDIS.”

“And,” the Doctor said. “It’s clever, like I said."

Martin looked down. "Um...I thought we said we weren’t talking about this yet.”

“Right,” Brianna said. “We’ll shut up now. I just… I just want you to know I think we can beat this thing. We’ll figure it out.”

He smiled, but it didn’t look like he quite believed her. “Thanks.”

Brianna wasn’t sure what else to say to reassure him so they sat in silence for a few minutes.

Then Martin carefully and painfully maneuvered so he could lie on the floor.

“Is there… anything I can get for you?” Brianna asked. He shook his head so she got up and went to go talk quietly with the Doctor.

“So,” she said. “Fear.”

“Yes.”

“How do we fight that?”

He smiled at her. “I suspect, the same way we always do.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have a plan yet.”

“Give it time,” the Doctor said. “There’s probably more useful information our friend Martin can tell us. And the other one may be even more helpful.”

“Okay,” Brianna said and glanced at Martin before leaning in. “But how bad is this?” she whispered. “Because you’ve been acting weird.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to underestimate this thing,” he said. “But I do think we can destroy it if we’re careful.”

she studied his face, looking for lies in it, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I… I trust you. It’s just concerning to see you scared.”

“Believe it or not,” he said quietly. “I’m scared more often than you know.”

“Yeah. That’s why this is different.”

She went back to sit on the floor near the kidnapees, but didn’t try to talk to Martin again. He was alternately staring up at the ceiling and at his unconscious counterpart, who still looked alarmingly dead.

She sat vigil with him until the Doctor announced that they were about to enter their home universe.

Then, several things happened at once.

A chill swept the room, the TARDIS shuddered, and the unconscious man woke up.

His eyes flew open and he made a choking, gasping noise.

“Jon!” Martin shoved himself up to a sitting position, grimacing as the motion jostled his injured leg. 

There was something wrong with Jon’s eyes.

There was something too deep about the black of his pupils. Something too bright, like a harsh spotlight, something hungry and violent stirring within them. He seemed to see beyond the ceiling, to look at everything, to know, and Brianna froze in terror at the thought that he might see her.

The moment she thought that, his head started to turn, irises sliding slowly in her direction with an unnatural smoothness of motion. The Doctor shouted something, but Brianna couldn’t process the words. Her heart beat in her throat, choking the scream that burned in her lungs.

“Jon!” Martin grabbed his shoulders. “Jon, look at me!”

He turned the other way and stared at Martin instead. After a moment, his face changed, eyes losing their intensity, fading somehow to what could almost pass for normal.

He mouthed something with blood-rimmed lips that could have been Martin’s name, and then the TARDIS shuddered again, and landed somewhere with a sudden thump. Jon went limp again and consciousness fled from his still-open eyes, leaving them dull and glassy.

“Brianna!” the Doctor grabbed her and she realized she was hyperventilating. She tried to take a few deeper, slower breaths and ended up sobbing into the Doctor’s shoulder as he held her.

“What was that?” she heard him demand with his own suspicion now—his own mistrust.

In the answering silence she remembered what Martin had said he was going to do with the knife.

She felt the Doctor shift and held him more tightly, trying to get the image of those eyes out of her head.

“N-Now hold on,” Martin stuttered. “He… he’s not normally like that. Well, I mean… he…you don’t know how hard he tried to… to stay him, alright, and he’s still in there. He’s still… I told you to let us be—to leave us there!” Martin’s breath caught. “I… I won’t let you hurt him. He’s been through *sniff* enough.”

Brianna pulled away, taking a deep breath. “Doctor?” she said.

Reluctantly, he turned to look at her, face softening.

“I’m not hurt,” she said. “I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Just a bit shaken. Did we… make it to the station?”

“Barely,” the Doctor said, and got up. Brianna glanced at Martin, who was spreading the grime on his face around with the back of his hand as he sobbed softly.

“I need to check on the spider’s progress,” the Doctor said.

“You do that,” Brianna said. “I’ll get these two to the medical wing.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was comparably uneventful. Brianna got their two abductees situated in the medical wing, and did her best to advocate for them to stay in the same room. She wasn’t sure how much to tell the medical staff, but citing the spider thing as the source of their trauma seemed to make everyone more sympathetic to their situation.

She also ran some human interference with Director Garrison, answering what questions she could, and explaining what they knew so far. He seemed reasonable, and was willing to offer the Doctor any and all resources at his disposal. He was almost too eager, honestly. He kept talking about what an honor it was to provide a headquarters for the ‘study and elimination’ of this ‘new, cosmic threat’ But she was glad he wasn’t pitching a fit about the Doctor bossing his people around.

He offered her an apartment on the station, and she accepted, but was too exhausted to move her things over, just pocketed the key and made her way back to the TARDIS to sleep in her room there.

She didn’t sleep well, and didn’t feel particularly rested when she got up again, but eventually there came a point where she just couldn’t try anymore, so she went to check on things.

She found everyone in the medical wing. Martin was looking much less like a grimy boulder. He seemed to have showered and was wearing a set of clothes that looked like standard issue for the people on the station. Gray trousers, a dark blue shirt with kind of sci-fi looking gold stitching on it. One trouser leg was pushed up to accommodate the bulky, white cast that covered his leg all the way up to the knee, and a pair of crutches leaned against the folding chair he was sitting in, but other than that and a few bandaged cuts on his face and arms, he looked alright.

The other man, Jon, lay in the hospital bed, still unconscious. He looked a bit tidier as well, draped in a hospital gown, injuries wrapped in clean white bandages. He still kind of looked dead, though.

The Doctor was here too, talking with one of the station’s medical doctors in hushed tones.

Brianna stood awkwardly for a moment before dragging a chair over to sit by Martin. “Hey,” she said. “How are you doing?”

Martin shrugged.

“Right,” Brianna said. “Probably a stupid question.”

“I didn’t expect to be… you know, alive by now,” Martin said. “Not after everything… I mean, I hoped, but…” He looked at Jon and shook his head. “If he had just followed the plan… I mean, we might still be here but maybe he’d be…” He huffed. “I don’t want him in a coma for six months again! It was bad enough the first time.”

Brianna refrained from pointing out that if you didn’t want people to end up in comas, it was a good idea not to stab them in the chest.

“Uh… sorry about the whole… when he woke up.”

“Oh,” Brianna said. “Yeah. No worries. He just scared me is all. He didn’t even actually look at me, I just… he was going to and that was…" she shuddered. "He’s not going to be like that all the time when he wakes up, is he?”

“No,” Martin said. “I mean, I hope not. I think it was because he was… exposed to the fears? As soon as we were here on this station, he, uh…” Martin gestured at his deathly-still counterpart.

“How—” Brianna’s question was cut off by the approach of both the doctor and the Doctor.

“Ah, Brianna,” the Doctor said. “Good timing. We have a problem.”

“What a surprise,” Brianna said.

The Doctor nodded to the station doctor, who cleared his throat.

“Ah, the thing is… this man is… well, he’s dying.”

Brianna found that fairly easy to believe.

“What?” Martin said.

“He’s not responding well to treatment on any front, and his brain activity is dropping.”

Martin stared up at them with a sort of dull, despairing acceptance. “I… killed him…”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” the Doctor said. “The strange thing is that it’s not the chest wound that's killing him.”

The station doctor shook his head. “That wound should have killed him almost immediately. It damaged his heart and one of his lungs. If it could kill him, he would already be dead.”

“So there’s another injury,” the Doctor said. “It’s not a physical injury—more of a metaphysical thing.”

“It’s still affecting him physically,” the station doctor said. “We… in light of the underlying conditions keeping him alive, we were able to stitch up some of the damage to his chest, but while Martin told us he’s been known to heal unnaturally quickly, he’s… not. And we don’t know how to treat the metaphysical wound, but I doubt we have more than a few days before he’s brain dead.”

Martin shut his eyes and nodded.

“Martin,” the Doctor said. “Do you have any ideas? I know I said I wouldn’t press you for information until he was stable, but is there anything about his… connection to that fear incarnation that might point us in the right direction for treatment? If there is a way to save him, we can probably make it happen.”

“Um…” Martin said. “I don't..." He took a deep breath "Well… if we give him back to the Fears, he probably won't die, but..." 

"I'd rather not," the Doctor said.

"Yeah... um, this is going to sound silly, and I’m not sure it would help, but… we could…” Martin cringed. “We could tell him stories?”

The Doctor frowned.

“True stories,” Martin specified “And… scary ones, if possible.”

“Why?” the Doctor said.

“Well, he sort of… ate… other people’s trauma. They would tell him their stories and it would… fuel him. Or, when that wasn’t possible, he would just… know them, tell the stories himself. He had to—it was like a compulsion or an addiction, I guess? You probably don’t believe me, but…”

Brianna looked at the Doctor and he tilted his head to the side and she shrugged.

“What?” Martin said.

“Like I said,” Brianna elbowed his arm gently. “Regular Tuesday. Doctor?”

The two doctors looked at each other.

“I’ll see what I can find,” the Doctor said. “I think I can do better than a bedtime story. Stay here.” He rushed off in typical Doctor fashion.

The station doctor bustled around for a few minutes, taking vitals and writing on a sort of digital clipboard before walking off.

Brianna took a deep breath. “He’ll be alright.”

“Don’t,” Martin said.

Brianna looked down again. He was right—she couldn’t promise that.

Maybe she shouldn’t be here. She glanced at Martin, trying to decide if she should get up and leave, but he spoke before she could.

“Sorry,” he said. “About how I... when you tried to rescue me. You probably thought I was completely insane."

Brianna didn't deny it. She was glad he seemed more reasonable now, though.

"It’s just… you don’t know what I’ve been through the last few days, months… years, I guess.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Martin sighed and reached out to gently take Jon’s limp hand. “Not really… but if it might help him… no, I don’t-I don’t know.”

“Something else, then,” Brianna said. “Um… how did you two meet?”

“Work,” Martin said with a half smile. “He was my boss.”

Brianna smirked. “Must have been a pretty good boss.”

Martin shook his head, smile deepening. “He was a terrible boss… well, not that bad, especially compared to the other people in charge at the Institute. And he still… he was okay. He acted like he didn’t care at first, but as soon as he realized we were actually in danger he got kind of… protective. Well, more like paranoid, but only because… I guess that still doesn’t make him a good boss. He’s a good person, though… when he’s not, um…” Martin sighed.

Brianna nodded, though she wasn’t quite following.

“And he has this… inflated sense of… self importance, and he throws himself in harm’s way without even thinking if it will do anyone any good.”

“Hm,” Brianna said, thinking about some of the scrapes the Doctor had gotten into.

“And he usually just ends up being manipulated into whatever his enemies want him to do and making everything worse.”

“I’m starting to think he and the Doctor might get on too well. We are always rushing into things with half a plan at best. Though… the outcome is usually good in our case.”

Martin sighed. “Wonder what that’s like.”

Brianna had a sudden thought. “It was him, wasn’t it?” she said. “He’s the one who let that thing out of your universe, isn’t he?”

Martin looked down—didn’t answer.

“Sorry,” Brianna said. “I… I’m sure there wasn’t a lot of choice.”

“I’ll have to tell your Doctor friend the whole story,” Martin said grimly. “My part of the deal.”

Brianna nodded. “But then the two of you—I guess we can take you back home.”

He looked doubtful.

“Or not, if that’s going to be dangerous for you.”

“It’s not that,” Martin said bitterly, then let go of Jon’s hand and bowed his head. “I just… it’s hard to trust that he’ll just let us go. Once he knows everything.”

Brianna looked down. Maybe it was time for another change of subject. “Your turn,” she said. “I’m sure you have questions.”

Martin breathed in deeply. “Sure,” he said. “What about you? How did you meet the, uh, Doctor?”

“Oh, you know, I was writing a term paper; he was saving the universe.”

Martin raised an eyebrow.

“I was looking for information about exoplanets and he came up to me in the library and asked if I wanted to see one for myself. At first I thought he was trying to sell me drugs or hit on me or something equally creepy. But something about how he said it—with this, I don’t know, almost childlike excitement…

“I turned him down, but I couldn’t get him out of my head, so I recognized him the next time I saw him. He was sneaking around. I thought it was a little suspicious so I followed him with the intention of reporting to the police if I saw anything that might be illegal, but then what I saw…

“There was this… fairy thing. It was an alien, just a little tiny one. And the Doctor was talking to it. He said he’d been looking for it and had finally found it, and he told it it wasn’t going to find its way home stealing people’s memories or something like that, and to let them go, and all these lights floated out of it and then the Doctor caught it in a jar and by that point I had to keep following, not because I was suspicious, but because I was curious—I had to know what was going on.

"So I followed him right onto the TARDIS and he saw me and without missing a beat he handed me the jar with the little alien in it and told me to ‘hold that while I drive’ and we took her home to her own planet where they store their memories in gardens of crystal flowers.” She sighed “And then he took me back home, and I told him I wanted to see more… and I’ve been going on adventures with him ever since. I’m home enough just barely to turn in my homework and take care of my cat—or at least check on her. My neighbor feeds her when I’m not around. And, um… that’s all.” She blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that detailed…”

Martin was looking intently at Jon, who had opened his eyes again and was staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Oh,” Brianna said. “When did that happen?”

“He keeps doing it,” Martin said. “It might have had something to do with what you… but wouldn’t that mean…?” He looked troubled.

“Huh,” Brianna said. “Well, I… think it’s not really good for your eyes to stay open for a long time—they can, um… dry out, I think. Could damage his vision.”

Martin shook his head. “Could be worse things,” he muttered, but he reached out and shut Jon’s eyes again.

“Anyway, um… any other questions?”

Martin glanced back at Jon, then at the door. “Who exactly… is he? This Doctor person?”

“Oh, he’s… well… it’s complicated.”

The Doctor chose that moment to reappear, carrying a big jar full of some kind of pearly, almost metallic liquid that shimmered and glowed faintly.

“Hello!” he said brightly. “Look what I found!”

“Something weird and dangerous?” Brianna asked.

The station doctor followed the Doctor in. “What is that?” he asked.

“Any other guesses?”

“Mm… liquid mercury?” Martin said, sounding concerned.

“Liquid,” the Doctor said. “Stories.”

Brianna sighed and buried her face in her hands.

“What?” Martin said.

“Really?” Brianna said. “That’s a thing? How is that a thing?”

“Brianna, we’re about to go to war with the incarnation of fear itself, and it’s liquid stories that you’re complaining about?”

Brianna heaved a sigh. “You have a point. But how do you even… liquid?”

“We keep stories on paper,” the Doctor said. “And on tapes, and in digital form. So why not liquid?”

“Well… well, you store the information. You still need to read or watch something to experience the story.”

“Exactly—that’s why this form is more useful in this case.”

“What are you going to do?” Brianna said. “Inject it directly into his veins?”

The Doctor looked at the station doctor, who shrugged.

“Now, hold on,” Martin said. “You can’t just go… injecting some random jar of liquid you found in the basement of your magic space ship into my boyfriend’s veins.”

“It won’t hurt him,” the Doctor waved him off. “Though we might want to dilute it a bit—it’s rather strong.”

“Do you think it will mix with saline solution?” the station doctor asked.

“Hmm…” the Doctor said. “Possibly, though you might need an emulsifier of some sort.”

“I said wait,” Martin said. “How do you know it won’t hurt him? Or kill him! Have you ever done this to anyone before?”

“I’m with Martin on this,” Brianna said. “This man’s not in very good condition. Is this really the time for supernatural medical experimentation?”

“Exactly,” Martin said. “Thank you.”

“You really think it’s going to kill him?” the Doctor said. “You stabbed him in the chest and that didn’t kill him.”

Martin froze.

“Doctor,” Brianna warned.

“His lungs have a nice big slice through them, and his heart’s nearly been cut in half, and that didn’t kill him.”

“Hey!” Brianna got to her feet. “Leave off. Too far.”

The Doctor held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. “I am starting to understand the scope of what these men have done.”

“What about what they’ve been through?” Brianna maintained. “I’d be wary of a space wizard trying to inject my boyfriend with basement story juice under the best of circumstances, so maybe you could offer assurances, instead of making accusations.”

The Doctor frowned at her, then shook his head. “If you can believe it, I very much want to talk to this… person. And I wouldn’t do anything I thought might make that impossible. This won’t hurt him. Worst case, it just won’t do anything, and we’ll have to find some other way to keep him alive.”

Martin looked up. “If he dies, I’m not helping you.”

The Doctor glared. “You’ll go back to the angry mob?”

Martin shook his head. “You actually think you can scare me?”

“Ookay,” Brianna siad. “Let’s—”

“Oh, shut up!” Martin snapped, then rounded on the Doctor. “If you’re so powerful and smart, why do you need our help again?”

Brianna crossed her arms.

Martin flinched. “Sorry,” he whispered to her. “Really… sorry.”

“I can hear them screaming,” the Doctor said quietly. “Faintly, in the back of my mind. Billions—Trillions—Quadrillions of people across thousands of planets caught in that thing’s web, suffering, living out their worst nightmares. If there was anything I could do to stop it on my own, do you think I’d even bother with you?”

Silence fell.

“But…” Martin said. “What could we do to help you? We don’t even really understand… well, maybe Jon does—he knows more than I do at least, but aside from that… we’re just ordinary people.”

The Doctor looked down at Jon.

“No,” Martin said. “He’s done enough. He… I won’t let you use him like everyone else!”

The Doctor looked away, but his jaw was still tight with anger.

“You… you fix him, and—and we’ll tell you everything we know. But you’re not using him to fight them!”

“We’ll see,” the Doctor said. “In the meantime, let’s focus on restoring him from the brink of death.” He held up the gently swirling jar. “Are you going to let me try this or do you have a better idea?”

Martin deflated. “Fine,” he said.

“Thank you.” the Doctor turned to confer with the station doctor again.

Martin looked at Brianna. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

“You already apologized.”

“Well… you’ve been nice to me. And I know you were just trying to help.” He cast a dirty look at the back of the Doctor’s head.

“Thanks,” Brianna said. “I know you’re stressed… apology accepted, I guess.” She smiled, trying to pretend she wasn’t still a little offended.

The doctors left the room, still talking, and came back a few minutes later with an IV bag full of swirling liquid, which they hung above Jon’s bed and attached to the IV port already in his arm.

Nothing changed, but then Brianna figured it might take a while. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of liquid stories.

“Is it like…” she watched the shiny substance creep down the thin tube leading to Jon’s wrist. “Coherent? Like… intravenously telling him a story, or is it bits and pieces all mixed together like a sort of… alphabet soup. Random words with the essence of a story? What even is a story?”

Martin shrugged, staring dubiously at the IV bag.

Brianna looked up at the screen showing Jon's non-existant vitals.

They had him on some sort of fancy, futuristic machine that was doing the work of his heart and lungs for him, but otherwise, the only sign of life was that faint brain activity.

After a few minutes of silence, she got up. “I’m gonna go back to the TARDIS,” she said. “I have homework, and I have to move some things over to the apartment they gave me on the station. But I’ll check in in a bit. Anything you want? Have they given you food?”

“Yeah, I’ve eaten,” Martin said, then sighed. “I’d kill for a cup of tea, though.”

“Yeah?” Brianna said. “I have a kettle stashed on the TARDIS. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you!” Martin said brightly, and Brianna went to gather her homework and go through her stash to see if she had any tea left. She wasn’t sure they had such essential luxuries on the station.

She made it back with two steaming mugs and her bag slung over her shoulder, just as the station doctor was leaving, scribbling on his digital clipboard thing.

“Well,” she said as she handed one of the mugs to Martin. “How is he?”

“Apparently, his brain activity’s gone up already,” Martin said.

“Seems like a good sign,” Brianna said, and Martin smiled into his mug and nodded.

They chatted while they sipped their tea, and then Brianna decided to give Martin a bit of peace and do her homework in her apartment—after she’d checked on the Doctor, that was.

He was on the observation deck, staring at the horrible spider thing again.

It was worse now. It seemed bigger, stranger, more hideous, more frightening.

“It’s growing,” the Doctor told her. “Getting stronger, feeding off the universe.”

Something horrible occurred to her as she tried not to look at it with its teeth and legs and eyes…

“It… has Earth, doesn’t it?”

the Doctor didn’t answer.

“Doctor?”

“Yes,” he said very quietly.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

Brianna tried not to think about it. Her friends, her family, her classmates and teachers… her neighbor, her cat… She had no idea what might be happening to them and she didn’t want to know. She took a deep breath. “Does it help? Sitting here, staring at it?”

The Doctor was silent again.

“Doctor? Maybe you should take a break.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on it.”

Brianna looked at her bag, gritted her teeth and said it. “I have some homework I need to get done. I could sit—”

“No,” the Doctor said in a voice that did not leave any room for negotiation.

“If it’s not good for me, then how is it alright for you? I worry about—”

“You should be worried about your stray cats,” the Doctor said.

“Hey!” she said. “One of us is trying to make friends with the people who might be able to help us stop that thing.”

“For all we know,” the Doctor said. “You’re trying to make friends with the people who did this.”

Brianna frowned. “They don’t seem… well, Martin doesn’t seem evil. Just like an ordinary, regular human being with human flaws, who got mixed up in something terrible. Don’t tell me that’s never happened to you—that even with all your power and experience you haven’t made a mistake that got people hurt, or had a moment of weakness, or didn’t see any other options.”

The Doctor looked at her, haunted, almost angry. Even the reflections from the screen—the light playing across his features—made him look like a monster for a moment.

Then he bowed his head.

“Sorry,” Brianna said, knowing she must have touched on a sore subject but not knowing what. There were things he hadn’t told her—things she knew he’d never talk to her about. “I just… yelled at you earlier for going too far.”

“I wasn’t wrong,” the Doctor said. “And neither were you.”

“Will you take a break?”

He glanced back at the screen. “...fine.”

“Jon’s already doing a bit better. I guess your alphabet soup was good for him after all.”

“See,” the Doctor got up from his chair. “I told you so.”

Jon continued to improve over the next few days. When they changed his bandages, they found the chest wound had started to heal, and forty-eight hours later it was gone completely.

His heart started beating again the day after that, and in less than a week, he was off all the life support except for the liquid story IV.

And then they waited for him to wake up. Martin stayed by his bedside as much as possible, but asked Brianna to fill in sometimes when he had to sleep. He still seemed paranoid about Jon disappearing or dying, but she couldn’t really question it, not with the few hints he’d dropped about their experiences.

The fear spider thing continued to terrorize the universe. The Doctor continued to spend too much time watching it, and was in a foul mood. He stopped pestering Martin to tell him things, though, and didn’t take as much of an interest in Jon’s recovery as time went on.

Brianna couldn’t shake the chilling thought that he was scared to hear their story—scared that it wouldn’t be helpful—that there might be nothing he could do after all, and he would wait out the rest of his millennia watching the whole universe suffer, helpless to stop it.

She tried to fight that fear, to hope harder, to promise herself that they would find a way—that it all somehow hinged on Jon and as soon as he was awake they would know what to do.

She knew it probably wouldn’t work that way, but at this point she didn’t know what else to hope for.

Chapter Text

The surface started a very long way away.

Jon was aware, dimly, of drifting toward it, floating up through dozens of worlds—some sunny, others rainy, each gently buoying him up toward some unknown, final reality. He caught memories, snatches of conversation, incongruous details. He saw people from the inside, inhabiting them as he passed by, living their lives for moments at a time.

He might have feared waking up—inhabiting himself—if he’d had the context to understand that was his destination. But as it was, he didn’t struggle as the waves washed him, finally, to the shore.

He opened his eyes, and took in a quiet, painful breath.

He thought he could still feel the knife in his chest, the blade buried deep in his flesh, but when he looked, the wound was gone. He was lying in a flimsy hospital gown, on a bed, in a clean room.

Had he been… unconscious again? How long this time?

The only other person in the room was a young woman chewing on the end of a pen as she stared at something in a spiral notebook.

She seemed almost familiar, as from a dream, and he instinctively tried to know who she was, but a blinding flash of pain split his head and he gasped.

She almost jumped out of her chair, clutching the notebook to her chest. “Oh!” she said, and Jon watched her face go from startled to wary, to a sort of schooled calm. “Hey, you’re awake. Um… how are you feeling?”

“Where… where am I? What happened? Is…?” He had to know. “Where’s Martin?”

“I’ll go get him,” the girl said, scrambling out of her chair. “I think he’s still asleep.”

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. Martin was alright. He was here, wherever here was. “Thank you. But um… if he’s resting…”

“He would beat me to death with his crutches if you were awake and I didn’t tell him right away.” The young woman shook her head. “He’s already going to be angry enough that he wasn’t here. He spends like all day in that chair. Just hold on a minute. I’ll be right back.” She ducked out of the room before Jon could ask anything else.

Crutches? Was Martin hurt? What had happened? He accidentally reached for the information that had been at his fingertips for… however long the apocalypse had lasted.

And was rewarded with another splitting spike of pain in his head. So apparently he couldn't know things here. 

That was going to be a difficult reflex to unlearn.

And his chest hurt too, still. He could swear the knife was still there. He could feel the cold, unyielding metal with every breath.

He tried to ignore it as he studied his surroundings.

He didn’t recognize this hospital room. There was something off about it—the colors were wrong, and the writing on the screens… was that a different language? There was a sort of weird overlay, and then the words resolved into plain English.

And there was something else... not quite a sound, just a sort of... quiet murmuring in the back of his mind, like the dream he'd been having was still happening, just barely outside his range of perception. 

Where was he?

Ah! No, don’t try to know…

He’d have to wait and see if that girl really did bring Martin back…

Or maybe just something wearing Martin’s skin. There would be no way to tell.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe this was just another dream, and that was why he could still feel the knife. Maybe he was still just dying, slowly.

He opened his eyes again when he heard footsteps and a familiar voice.

Martin swung into the room on crutches. His right leg was in a long white cast, but he seemed to be alright other than that, and his eyes lit up when he met Jon’s gaze. He rushed into the room, managing the crutches with a surprising nimbleness.

The young woman stuck her head in the doorway behind him. “You two catch up,” she said. “I’m going to go distract the Doctor as long as I can.”

“Thanks, Brianna,” Martin called, but didn’t look back at her.

“Wish me luck!” the girl sang, and ducked away.

Martin came and took the chair right by the bed, not the one down by the foot where Brianna had been sitting. Jon studied Martin’s face, not quite trusting at first. But as they considered each other in silence, he was somewhat comforted by the fact that there was more than just relief and care in Martin’s eyes. There was fear, and grief, and even some betrayal and anger, and as much as all that hurt, Jon didn’t think the Stranger could replicate all that. It probably wouldn’t even bother to try.

“It’s…” he broke the silence. “Really you, isn’t it?”

Martin huffed and reached out and Jon took his hand, warm and real and comforting. “Do you know that?”

Jon shook his head silently. “I can’t… it just… hurts if I try to know something.”

“Oh,” Martin looked concerned now. “Are you… how are you feeling?”

Jon tried not to wince as the invisible knife wound throbbed. “I… weak,” he said. “And… different. I… think I dreamed… good things?” It seemed so strange.

Martin shook his head. “Lucky you,” he said with a thin edge of bitterness in his voice.

Jon sighed. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you—I went behind your back and… and broke my promise, and made you…”

“Made me stab you?” Martin said. “Jon, I was almost mad enough to do that anyway. You… Look, let’s not talk about it. We’re together and that’s what matters, right?”

“Right,” Jon agreed, squeezing Martin’s hand. “Um… where exactly are we?”

“Oh boy,” Martin said. “Okay, here we go. This is… a space station in a black hole in another universe.”

Jon stared. “Really?”

Martin nodded. “You believe me?”

“Well, it’s… I suppose that’s not the strangest situation I’ve ever found myself in.”

“Ha,” Martin said. “Yeah. There was the whole Jane Prentiss thing.”

“Yes, and the time I was kidnapped by mannequins.”

“And the apocalypse trip.”

“Right,” Jon said, and glanced around again. There was an IV in his arm. “What’s that.” He looked up at the bag of swirling, shiny liquid.

“Alphabet soup,” Martin said. “Or, that’s what Brianna and I have been calling it. Supposedly it’s ‘liquid stories.’ The Doctor thought it might revive you, and it looks like he was right. Well, that’s when you started getting better at least, and your, um… wounds started to heal.”

Jon debated whether to bring up the fact that on some level, they very much hadn’t healed. But Martin probably felt bad about that, and he didn’t want to make it worse.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked instead.

“Oh,” Martin said. “Falling rubble. It’s broken in like three places. My ankle too. But they have good medicine here—they say they’ll be able to take the cast off in another two weeks, and I can walk on it normally a week after that.”

“That’s good,” Jon said, then frowned. “How long was I…?”

“One week,” Martin said. “Well, six days.”

Jon sighed. “That’s better than six months.”

“Yeah,” Martin said, rubbing a thumb over Jon’s knuckles. “I still missed you, though.”

“Martin, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Martin squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. Like I said, we’re together, and now you’re awake, and that’s what matters.”

Something tugged at Jon’s mind—something Martin had said—something he hadn’t. “So… we’re in a hospital, on a space station in a black hole, in another universe?”

Martin nodded.

“How did we… get here? Were we dragged here by the fears somehow?”

“No,” Martin said. “Brianna and the Doctor kidnapped us from the rubble of the Institute.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “That girl and… a doctor?”

“Not a doctor,” Martin said. “The Doctor is… sort of his name or title or something. He’s like a… time traveling, shape-shifting space wizard who flits around his universe yelling at people and trying to solve their problems for them.”

“Huh…” Jon said. “Shape-shifting?”

“I don’t like it either,” Martin said. “But Brianna seems to trust him, and she’s alright.”

“And… they kidnapped us because…”

Martin frowned. “I… Look, Jon—”

“They’re here aren’t they?” Jon said “The fears. In this universe.” 

Martin hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what the whole black hole thing is about. Supposedly information can’t get out of it, so they can’t see us here. We’re safe from them. The Doctor just wants information about the fears, and then he’ll… probably take us home. I hope.”

Jon nodded, though he felt ill. It had happened—the fears that he had empowered, and then released were now terrorizing another universe.

“Jon?”

“Mhm?”

“Promise me something.”

Jon looked up at him.

“Promise me you won’t volunteer to help. Promise me you’ll just talk to the Doctor and then come home with me. We’ve been wrapped up in this long enough. I don’t want to go through another apocalypse because of your… weird savior complex, okay?”

“But… we did this,” Jon said. “People were… people are suffering, aren’t they? Because of what we did?”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Not because of us though. It was the Web. I’ve been thinking about it and the Web had the whole thing planned out from the beginning, and I don’t think there was anything we could have done about it except maybe walked away before it was too late. So… this time, can we just walk away? There’s never been anything we could actually do to fight the fears.”

But there had been. There had been that second option, for Jon to kill everyone and trap the fears in an empty universe where they’d starve. Jon had chosen that option.

But then…

Maybe Martin was right about the Web.

“But,” he said. “But if there’s anything we can do—”

“No!” Martin said. “Damn it, I knew you’d be like this. Please, please can you just… give it up? There was nothing we could do before—why would there be anything now? Please, promise me you won’t offer to help.”

Jon forced himself to look at Martin, to take in his tortured expression, the tears in the corners of his eyes, his desperate exhaustion. They had already failed—what was done already—he couldn’t change that…

But he couldn’t put this man through any more.

“I…” he tried to get the words out, to promise, but he was afraid. He could still feel the consequences of his last broken promise.

“Please,” Martin said.

An argument in the hall pulled them out of the moment, and Jon looked over in time to see Brianna come back in ahead of a rather ordinary-looking man.

“Come on,” Brianna said. “You can give them half an hour at least.”

The man locked eyes with Jon, and all illusions that there was anything ordinary about him fled. He had a depth to him—an ancient, ageless virtue to him.

This was not a man to make an enemy of.

At the height of his power, Jon might have been able to stand up to him, but here, he felt exposed and vulnerable, like a wriggling insect under the pin, something nasty to be examined, exterminated, and hung on the wall as a trophy. He felt a mounting dread as this man—the Doctor—pulled the other chair to the opposite side of the bed.

Martin was glaring at him—Martin had no idea what he was glaring at.

Jon flinched as the Doctor sat down.

“Well,” he said calmly. “The Archivist’s awake.”

Silence fell.

“I never said to call him that,” Martin accused.

“I’ve had a week to do what research I could on my own,” the Doctor said. “Since you haven’t been any help.”

“If you could do your own research, what do you need us for?”

“If you don’t mind,” the Doctor glared back. “I’m talking to Jon at the moment.”

Silence fell.

“Are you…” Jon’s mouth was dry. “Going to kill us?”

The Doctor sighed. “Brianna would never forgive me.”

Jon glanced at Brianna, who shrugged.

The implication that that was the only reason… was actually somewhat comforting. It meant the Doctor actually understood the situation.

“And you… want me to tell you about the fears.”

The Doctor nodded. There was a grim determination on his face, but not despair. “I’ve learned some on my own. But I’m hoping you’ll have insider knowledge that’s harder to get from where I’m watching.”

Jon couldn’t dare hope—could he? “Do you… do you really think you can destroy them?”

“The idea,” the Doctor said. “Is that you can help me answer that question.”

Jon took in a deep, painful breath, and squeezed Martin’s hand. “Okay,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

They stared up at the spider together.

Brianna had come to really hate the moments she had to endure its image as she tried to talk the Doctor out of his brooding, but Jon had insisted on seeing it in person, after having the Doctor describe it to him. He was too weak to walk across the station, so the Doctor had pushed him in a wheechair and Brianna had rolled his IV stand after him, with an unhappy Martin swinging along on his crutches beside her.

The two of them hadn’t reacted much to the spider. Martin had made a face, but Jon hadn’t even flinched, and was now staring up at it with just the tiniest glimmer of that intensity she’d seen in his eyes on the TARDIS.

“Well,” Martin said. “That’s the fears alright. I think I can see a bunch of them… sort of in that thing.”

“They’re… so much stronger than they were…" Jon said. "But we thought… we thought they’d start out the same as they were at first for us. Hiding in the shadows, trying to… trying to build to a ritual that would make the world… inhabitable for them. This… but they only came here… hasn’t it only been a week?”

“Ah, no,” the Doctor said. “To you, yes, but we went sort of back in time to pull you out of your universe. This thing’s had thousands of years.”

Jon looked stricken.

“Well, I’ve seen enough,” Martin said, then glanced at Jon hopefully. “Had your fill? Ready to go back?”

Jon shook his head slightly, but didn’t speak.

Martin’s annoyance bled into a sort of hopelessness. “Okay,” he said. “Guess I’ll go on ahead.” He turned to walk from the room.

“Wait,” Jon said quickly. “Martin, I… please wait.”

Martin stopped. “I don’t want to look at that thing!” he said. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No, just… don’t go far. Wait outside the doors. I’ll be done soon.”

Martin glanced back. “Okay,” he said, and then left the room. The doors closed behind him, and Jon buried his face in his hands.

Brianna frowned. She… sympathized with Martin, but…

“So…” the Doctor said.

Brianna was about to tell him off for being insensitive, but Jon spoke before she could.

“This isn’t… the first universe it’s been to,” he said softly. “Is it?”

“No,” the Doctor told him.

Jon put his hands down, gripped the arms of the wheelchair, looked up at the Doctor.

“Tell me about them,” he said, voice shaking. “The other universes.”

“Don’t,” Brianna said, but the Doctor didn’t listen to her.

“The first was a quiet universe,” the Doctor said. “Not so barren as yours, but with only a handful of inhabited planets. It must have started the way you said, with these Fears of yours living like scavengers, on the edge of existence. But this time it only took them a few hundred years to set their traps and dig their pits and drag their new worlds deep into their shadows.

“Over the next thousands of years, they feasted on their prey, drawing out their deaths, slowly, slowly feeding on their minds until there was nothing left but death, and the clever path the Spider had made to tempt the fears toward greener pastures once again.

“They left that universe barren, dead, not a single soul left. The planets were piled with broken, twisted bones, left behind amid the streets of perfect, pristine houses. I went there. I saw it.

“The second universe was a loud universe. Vibrant, full of life—full of joy and sorrow and hope and courage and the beautiful, terrible struggle for survival. Once again, the Fears crept into the fringes, but they were stronger now, more experienced than ever.

“They began their work, cornering one planet, then another, reaching out for the near-endless sustenance and power at their disposal.

“This time, there was a war. Some of the planets had tools they could use to fight back against the darkness that plagued them. But it wasn’t enough. Fire breeds fire, war breeds war, madness, madness, mistrust and darkness and violence, more of the same. And eventually, the noblest of strongholds fell and the Fears claimed the bravest warriors and leaders and all those they could not protect. And they were made to watch as their children were tormented, hunted, flayed alive, lost, and left entirely alone.”

This wasn't right. Brianna tried to say something, to tell the Doctor to stop, but the air felt frozen in her lungs.

“The Fears adapted, grew stronger, smarter, more powerful. And this time, they did not wait until they were starving to leave. Instead, they made a hole big enough for their current form in the fabric of the universe and they crawled through.

“They left just the children behind, just a few of them on each planet to repopulate, so they can go back to terrorize the descendants of those few survivors, as soon as the memory of the horrors fades into obscurity.

“And now they torment my universe. My people. And I can hear them screaming, trapped in the web.”

Brianna still couldn’t talk, but she happened to glance at the screen and a chill went down her spine.

The spider.

God, no…

The Doctor kept describing the horrible things happening on the planets that he could hear, but Brianna started toward the computers. It felt like walking through jell-o, like the air was thick with the Doctor’s words.

She found a mug she had left on the desk. It was half full of two-day-old tea.

She found she somehow couldn’t chuck it at the Doctor, so with what felt like monumental effort, she threw the mug toward the wall instead.

It soared sluggishly through the air and shattered against one of the screens with a loud crash, followed by the musical rain of glass shards on the ground.

The Doctor froze, and he and Jon stared at her.

“Sorry,” Brianna said “I would have just screamed, but that seemed a little too ‘in theme.’ You might have taken it for background noise.”

“What…?” the Doctor shook his head as if to clear it, and looked at Jon.

Jon stared back from the wheelchair, tears trailing down his cheeks, eyes slowly fading to normal. “I’m…” He cowered. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry; I couldn’t… I opened my stupid damn mouth…” he put a shaking hand to his face to cover said mouth.

“Did you not see it looking at us?” Brianna pointed up at the screens.

“What?” the Doctor said. “Brianna, it can’t see us.”

She glanced up at the spider to see that, once again, the eyes on it rolled wildly, looking this way and that, searching aimlessly.

“I know what I saw,” Brianna said. “All the eyes were… were focused on him.” She pointed at Jon.

“Impossible,” the Doctor said again.

“Excuse me?”

“I believe you,” the Doctor said. “But it can only have been an internal phenomenon—connected to whatever he was doing. The actual spider can’t see us—or it would already be trying to kill us.”

Brianna supposed… that made sense.

But she caught Jon’s eye for a moment and he looked worried.

“Either way,” the Doctor said. “You’ve seen it—and I think I don’t want to take any more chances, so let’s get you out of here.”

Brianna nodded and helped wheel Jon out into the hall where Martin was waiting. He took one look at them and his face flushed with anger.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

Jon started to stammer some sort of apology, but Martin was looking at the Doctor.

“Why is he crying?”

“He asked me a question,” the Doctor said.

Martin ignored him and swung over to the wheelchair. “Jon?” he said quietly, and Jon shook his head, trembling with suppressed misery. “Come here.” He dropped his crutches and pulled Jon up out of the wheelchair and into his arms.

Brianna scrubbed a tear from her own eye as Jon sobbed into Martin’s shoulder.

The Doctor touched her elbow, and she turned to glare at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“To me?” Brianna demanded. “Why did you say all of that stuff?”

“I got carried away, I guess.”

“You think? That was… that was not the time to wax poetic! That was horrible!”

Martin looked up. “Make a statement, did you?” he asked the Doctor.

“I… guess I did.” the Doctor said with a frown. “Hmm… Maybe you were right about the spider.”

“I think I was.” Brianna said.

“I have to make sure the base isn’t compromised,” he said. “Can you…?”

“Yeah, I’ll get them back to medical,” Brianna said, and the Doctor rushed off.

“Jon?” Martin said. “Jon, I have to sit down—my good leg is killing me.”

“Sorry,” Jon pulled away.

“No, you’re coming with me.” Martin said, and let Jon help him into the wheelchair before pulling the smaller man into his lap. Jon put his arms around Martin’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck, legs dangling over the edge of the chair. He looked so small—almost childlike.

“It’s alright,” Martin said gently to him, wrapping one arm around him and reaching for the IV stand with the other. “We’re done for the day, okay? You need to rest.”

Brianna took a deep breath and stepped behind the wheelchair. “Alright, boys,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Where are we headed?”

Jon lay on the bed on top of the rumpled covers, which made uncomfortable lumps underneath his legs and side.

He didn’t care.

This was what he hadn’t wanted, what he knew he couldn’t bear. The suffering and deaths, not only of one world, but hundreds, thousands, millions of worlds—all on him. All to be watched, analyzed, consumed by the Eye.

“Hey,” Martin sat on the edge of the bed. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

Jon shook his head. “Not physically.”

He could still… but the phantom pain of the knife didn't seem as bad now. Hopefully it would go away eventually.

“Okay,” Martin said. “Well, uh… think there’s room?”

“I think so.” Jon said, scooting back a bit, so Martin could lie down. “If not, I can go sit in the wheelchair. I’m not really tired.”

They had opted to go to the apartment allotted to Martin instead of back to the medical wing. Jon was… feeling significantly better physically. He could probably have walked here, though he didn’t want to admit that, even to himself.

“Well, I am,” Martin said.

That was right—Brianna had woken him up.

He lay down facing Jon, and Jon reached out and carefully removed Martin’s glasses. “I love you,” he said.

Martin smiled, a wan, concerned smile. “If you… I mean, spare me the grisly details, but what… happened in there? What did you ask him?”

Jon sighed. “I asked…” He cleared his throat. “I asked the Doctor to tell me about the other universes—the ones the Fears destroyed before they entered this one.”

“Oh,” Martin said. “Oh, Jon…”

Jon felt tears welling up and Martin pulled him closer and held him until he was done weeping.

Then, they lay quietly next to each other until Martin fell asleep.

Jon waited as long as he could stand before getting back up. The pain of the knife came back in full force, but he tried to ignore it as he walked to the door.

Outside in the hall, he found Martin’s crutches and a neatly folded pile of clothes, probably left by Brianna.

He changed—which was somewhat difficult with the stupid IV in his arm—did he really need that?—and then went to find the Doctor to ask whether there was anything at all he could do to help.

Chapter Text

Brianna watched the Doctor think.

They were back on the TARDIS. She sat on a railing, legs dangling as he alternately paced and stared at the controls. She didn’t want to interrupt him, but she wasn’t feeling quite calm enough to mind her own business.

She had not enjoyed their time in the observation deck a few hours ago, and couldn’t shake that trapped feeling, the inability to interrupt—to beg the Doctor to stop. The eyes of the thing on the screens watching, seeing them.

She shivered. "Did you find out if the station is compromised?" 

"Hmm?" the Doctor looked at her. "Yes." 

"Yes you found out or yes it's..."

"Yes," the Doctor said. "But it's not a serious problem." 

"Wait... the station is compromised?" Brianna said. "But..." 

"I believe these... Fears have some small influence here," the Doctor said. "However, as I've said before, nothing can get out of a black hole—not without help. I believe we've got just a bit of a leak somewhere, but so long as we're careful and don't let Jon... take anyone else's statement, I think we'll be fine. For now at least." 

"That... was not as comforting as you probably tried to make it," Brianna said. 

"Let me try again, then," the Doctor said. "As long as we're in this black hole, it can't see us. And as long as it can't see us, it can't kill us." 

"You're... sure about that?" 

"No. But there has to be some reason we're not already dead." 

Great. 

There was a hesitant knock at the door.

“Took him long enough,” the Doctor said. “We’ve only got another hour—less by now.”

“Another hour?” Brianna asked as the Doctor strode briskly over to the door.

“Before the last bell,” he said, as if that was any help. She hopped off the railing and went to see who was at the door.

It was Jon, looking anxious, leaning a little on the IV stand but otherwise standing on his own. "Um..." he said. "I—"

“Good,” the Doctor left the doors open and went tromping off into a back room somewhere.

"...wanted to ask if I could help somehow..." Jon said quietly, but the Doctor was gone already.

Brianna walked over, arms crossed in disapproval. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet.”

He shrugged. “I feel alright.”

“If you say so.” He still looked half-dead to her, and he’d been in a week-long coma, after being stabbed in the chest, and who knew what else. He did seem more alert now, though, stronger, and with a bit of that suspicious intensity in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Brianna shrugged.

He seemed doubtful. “I… wouldn’t blame you for… well, you don’t have to pretend that you…” he sighed. “I know I make people uncomfortable.”

She blinked

He backed away half a step and swayed a little.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Jon said.

“Unlikely," Brianna said. "But sure, if you say so."

Jon looked down.

“And if you must know,” Brianna said. “I do find you a little unsettling, but just when you get all… spooky. It’s odd that you’re apologizing for it, though. You’re clearly frightened of the Doctor. Do you expect him to apologize to you for being an immortal time traveling nut-job?”

“Well… that’s different.”

“Because you... doomed the entire multiverse or whatever?” Brianna said. “Look, from what you told us, it doesn’t seem like you did any of that on purpose.”

“Doesn’t matter, cause he did it anyway.” The Doctor re-emerged with a fake magic wand and a handful of dry-erase markers. He was wearing a silly-looking top hat.

“Uh… Doctor?” Brianna said.

“Come on, let’s go.” He swept out of the TARDIS, past a confused-looking Jon.

“Where are we going?” Brianna shut the doors on her way out.

“The war council!” the Doctor said. “Where else?”

Jon stared at her.

“What’d I say?” Brianna said. “Time-traveling nutter. Come along, let’s see where he’s off to.”

The war council turned out to be a class of seven-year-olds. The teacher did not look pleased when the Doctor took over and told her to go sit among her pupils, but the kids were predictably excited about someone putting the teacher in her place.

Jon still looked very confused, which Brianna thought made the whole thing funnier, and she guided him over to sit in one of the little kid chairs and took her own seat next to him, smiling in anticipation, if a bit on-edge. She wasn’t about to let the Doctor scare a bunch of kids with talk about the Fears. 

“Alright, class!” the Doctor said. “I’m the Doctor. Everyone say ‘hello, Doctor’”

The seven-year-olds chorused at him, punctuated by a good deal of giggling. Brianna joined in, of course, but Jon still looked baffled—completely at a loss for words.

“I’ll be taking over your class for the rest of the hour, with Ms. Parla’s permission, of course.”

The teacher crossed her arms and scowled disapprovingly, which prompted another round of giggling. When Brianna met the teacher’s eyes, she saw a slight twinkle, though, and realized her disgruntlement was at least partly an act.

A girl with blue skin raised her hand.

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “What’s your name?”

“Marigold,” the girl said. “Teacher Doctor, do we have to finish our assignment for the day?”

The Doctor glanced at Ms. Parla who nodded slowly.

“I think I’m getting a ‘no’”

Giggles again. Ms. Parla was definitely trying hard to keep from smiling.

“Yes, definitely a no. We have more important things to do.”

Jon leaned over to Brianna. “Is that girl…”

“An alien,” Brianna whispered back. “Well, technically so are we—these people are from all over the galaxy. Also, it’s rude to stare.”

“Brianna and Jon,” the Doctor chided. “Did you have something to share with the class?”

Brianna played along, raising her hand. “No, teacher Doctor, sorry.”

“Then I’d like your attention up here, please.” He twirled his little baton and pointed it at his face, to another chorus of giggling. Jon, for his part, looked genuinely embarrassed.

A little boy raised his hand.

“Yes, name and question.”

“Odin,” the boy said. “Are you going to do a magic trick?”

“We’ll see,” the Doctor said. “First, down to business.” He uncapped a whiteboard marker and drew a circle right on the wall.

The kids gasped and Ms. Parla looked alarmed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “It comes off.” He dragged his sleeve across the wall to wipe off the marker, which earned him some more gasps and a few cheers.

Brianna leaned over. “Easy crowd,” she whispered. “They don’t use paper at all here, or anything disposable that might run out like that marker. They have really sturdy tablets and computers that they pass down through the generations, and fix them when they break, instead of throwing them away. Pretty neat, I think.”

The room had gone quiet again.

“Brianna and Jon, I won’t warn you again,” the Doctor said, to another little chorus of laughter.

“Sorry,” Brianna said.

“Now,” the Doctor drew the circle on the wall and then another smaller one connected on the bottom of the first, and then lines radiating out from the bigger circle.

Three legs in, she knew what it was.

“Today,” the Doctor said. “We’re going to discuss, as Director Garrison calls it, the war.”

Ms. Parla held her hand up primly.

“Yes, Ms. Parla.”

“Don’t you think this is inappropriate for the—”

“I think they ought to know what we’re up against,” the Doctor cut her off. “Don’t worry, I'm not drawing it to scale.” The marker squeaked as he added the last stick leg.

Ms. Parla crossed her arms, looking genuinely unhappy now.

“This,” the Doctor said. “Is fear.” He wrote the word ‘fear’ beneath the cartoon spider he’d drawn on the wall.

Jon swallowed nervously.

One of the kids raised her hand.

"Yes? Name and question.”

“Bianca. Is that the thing my mom and dad were talking about? That’s on the observation deck?”

“On the screens, at least,” the Doctor said. “And if the rest of you have heard about it, or not, don’t worry. We’re safe from it here on the station. It’s just causing the rest of the universe a lot of problems, and it’s our job to put a stop to it.” He tapped the spider with his baton.

A girl raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Annie,” she said. “I don’t like spiders.”

“Me either,” the Doctor said. “Yes, Marigold?”

“I like spiders,” Marigold declared. “I think they’re pretty.”

“Ew!” Odin spoke out of turn. “If I ever saw one, I’d step on it.”

The room erupted into a brief argument, but the Doctor got control back quickly.

“See,” he said. “I know it looks like a spider, and if it was, that would be simple, wouldn’t it? Because not everyone’s afraid of spiders. But this is different. Jon, would you mind explaining?”

Jon took a deep breath.

“Without upsetting the children,” the Doctor added in a way that was definitely a threat.

“Well…” Jon said. “It’s not… just a spider. It’s actually all fears. Everything everyone is afraid of, sort of... wrapped into one entity... I think.”

Having seen the thing, Brianna felt a chill down her spine, but the kids seemed to take it alright, nodding, staring at the spider on the wall in thought.

“So,” the Doctor said. “What can we do to stop all fears?”

A boy raised his hand.

“Yes.”

“Can we blow it up?” he asked, then made an explosion sound, using his hands to illustrate.

“You can blow up a spider,” the Doctor said. “But remember, this isn’t actually an animal—it’s fear itself.”

The kids were silent for a bit, then one tentative hand went up.

“Yes, Annie?”

“When I’m scared,” she said. “My mum sings me a song.”

The explosion boy who hadn’t shared his name sneered at her. “What a baby.”

“No,” the Doctor said. “Annie, that’s very clever. What else do we do when we’re scared?”

Several other children raised their hands or blurted out.

“I get my blanket!’

“My sister tells funny stories!”

“I hug my puppy!”

“My dad’s not scared of anything,” Odin said, crossing his arms. “I bet he’s not scared of that thing.”

“There’s an interesting question,” the Doctor said. “What if you can’t feel fear?”

Jon hesitantly raised his hand.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Um… well, if you can’t feel fear, then the fears don’t affect you. They sort of… can’t see you. But it doesn’t help you fight them. Honestly, a physical attack like a bomb… has worked best, sometimes, but… it might be too powerful for that now.”

The Doctor frowned.

Marigold raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“What if no one was scared of anything?”

“Good question,” the Doctor said, looking at Jon. “What would happen then. Jon?”

“I… believe the fears would starve and die out,” Jon said. “Is it… feasible to stop every living thing in the universe from being afraid?”

“No,” the Doctor said. “It isn’t.”

Annie raised her hand.

“Yes, Annie?”

“Even if everyone did something that makes them not scared?”

“Even then,” the Doctor said. “These are deep, primal beasts that lurk in the darkness. They can make the unthinkable into reality. A blanket won’t do much to keep them at bay.”

Brianna raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“What was that about not upsetting the children?”

“Quite right,” Ms. Parla added, out of turn.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, and rolled his hat off his head and down his arm, to delighted sounds from the children.

“What?” He said. “Do you think is in this hat?”

Hands went up. He called on Annie.

“A bunny rabbit!” she said.

The Doctor waved his baton over the hat and reached in with a flourish.

He pulled out a bouquet of fake flowers. “Huh,” he said. “That’s not right”

The children giggled and squealed as he pulled out sillier and sillier objects, until he finally drew forth a live rabbit, to the astonishment and absolute delight of his audience.

Then he scooped things off the desk back into his hat. A deck of cards, a string of brightly-colored flags, several juggling balls, and put the hat back on his head.

“Back to business,” he said, an pointed his baton at the spider on the wall. “Is there anything else we can do to stop fear?”

the children went quiet, clearly thinking hard.

One raised her hand.

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“Emmy,” she said. “I… don’t know the right answer.”

“Me either,” the Doctor admitted.

“But you’re the teacher!” Emmy said. “You’re supposed to know the answer.”

“I know,” the Doctor said, and Brianna saw that worrying glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m still trying to figure it out. Annie, again, yes.”

“I’m not afraid in the day,” she said. “But when the lights go out, I’m scared sometimes.”

The Doctor nodded.

“But we can’t stop the lights from going out, can we?” Annie said. “It just happens.”

“And the fear comes back,” the Doctor said.

“It won’t come back if we kill it,” Emmy said. “Will it?”

“Don’t kill it!” Marigold said. “When we see spiders, we trap them in a jar and put them out in the field with all the rest of the bugs!”

Jon frowned and glanced at Brianna. “Field?”

“Oh, yeah!” Brianna whispered. “Where’d you think they get food from? Part of the station is a huge farm.”

“Then you can look at it,” Marigold said. “And it’s not scary anymore because it can’t get out of the jar and bite anyone.”

“Good point,” the Doctor said.

He plied the children for answers for a little longer, but then the school bell rang to signify the end of class, and Ms. Parla got out of her seat and offered instructions to the fleeing schoolchildren.

Once they were gone, she picked up the rabbit off the desk and shoved it into the Doctor’s arms. “I hope you got what you wanted,” she said.

“Thank you,” the Doctor said, stroking the rabbit’s soft white ears.

Brianna got up and went to take the rabbit from him, but the Doctor held it away from her with a look of reproach.

“Oh, come on,” Brianna said. “Where did you even get a rabbit? Did you have it on the TARDIS the whole time?”

“That’s the great mystery,” he said. “Come on, let’s get back to medical—he’s running out of alphabet soup.”

“About that,” Jon said, looking suspiciously up at the IV bag hanging above him. “Are we sure I need it now that I’m awake?”

“Well, we should probably try to take you off of it at some point,” the Doctor said. “Since we only have about two weeks left of it. But the prognosis isn’t good.”

“What… happens when we run out?” Jon looked worried. “Will I just… go back into a coma? Can we get more?”

“We can,” the Doctor said as they walked. “But it’s a bit tricky when the universe is occupied by that thing. And I don’t know what will happen. Maybe you’ll be fine, maybe you’ll pass out, maybe you’ll die. Maybe you’ll turn into a monster and eat us all.”

“Lovely,” Jon said, then shook his head “What was that all about?” he glanced back at the school section of the station.

“I told you,” the Doctor said. “War council. I’ve been listening to a bunch of stuffy adults whose solutions amount to the same as that explosion kid. I needed a fresh perspective. We’re fighting something metaphysical, we can’t just… beat it up. For the most part, they seemed to understand that better than the adults.”

“Like I said, if we could find a way to just beat it up, that might work,” Jon said. “Though… there is another...something Marigold said.”

“See,” the Doctor said. “A better war council than a class of primary school students you’ll never find. Go on.”

“Well,” Jon said. “The plan—I mean one plan that we—that I—had…”

The Doctor nodded.

“Was to trap the fears in our universe, and just slowly let them starve. I was going to… try to minimize the suffering as much as I could, shuffle people toward—well, toward death.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

“I know that sounds horrible,” Jon said. “But it would have spared those other universes—and yours. Anyway, that’s not what I suggest. I’m just saying they will die if they don't have food.”

“So trap them in a jar.”

“Exactly.”

“Screw the lid on tight. No air holes.”

“And they'll suffocate.”

“This thing's a parasite,” the Doctor said. “It needs a host.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “For all its strength, it’s not independent.”

“Good,” the Doctor said. “I had a thought too. There’s a flower that grows on a small, little-known planet. Smelling it blocks all fear—ancient warriors used it in a ritual to prepare them to embark on fool’s quests and perform feats of great stupidity, but it’s mostly used in anxiety medicines now.”

Jon nodded.

“If I fetch a field’s worth of them, we can inoculate small numbers of people against the Fears. One thing that’s difficult is that we’re trapped here, and they see the TARDIS as a threat to be eliminated.”

“But if you were hidden…”

“I could scout,” the Doctor said. “Learn more about these things. Figure out what they're weak to."

“Hmm,” Jon said. “I wonder how that planet with the flowers is doing? Do you think it might be safe because—”

“Burnt to a crisp,” the Doctor said. “Screaming like the rest. But that wasn’t true a hundred years ago.”

“Ah,” Jon said. “That’s right. You did mention time travel.”

“You catch on quickly.”

Brianna shook her head. “I’ll have to tell Martin I was right.”

Jon looked at her with interest. “About what?”

“You two get on famously. Like a house on fire.”

The Doctor and Jon glanced at each other a bit mistrustfully.

“Sorry,” Brianna said. “Ruined the moment a bit.”

Jon gripped the IV stand and put a hand to his head.

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“Nothing,” Jon said. “Just...dizzy. Need to sit down.”

They were pretty close to the medical wing by then, so they escorted him the rest of the way, and he sat down on the bed he wasn’t supposed to have vacated in the first place.

“So,” the Doctor said. “What kind of jar are we looking for?”

“I… don’t know,” Jon shook his head. “We could… somehow push it back to that first universe it took, if it’s really empty now.”

“Hmm,” the Doctor said. “It would be very difficult to seal it there. There are gaping holes leading both back to your original universe, and to the next one.”

They sat in contemplative silence for a few momens.

Brianna tilted her head to the side. “I wonder…”

They both looked at her.

“Why not keep it simple? Would a black hole work?”

They looked at each other. Jon shrugged, then winced.

"I have a brilliant idea," the Doctor said. "Why don't we throw it in a black hole?" 

Brianna crossed her arms. "Really?" 

"Well, I was about to think of that," the Doctor said. 

"Mhm." Brianna said. "Don't know what you'd do without me." 

"I'd get a dumber companion," the Doctor said. "One who's easier to impress." 

Brianna rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling.

"And who doesn't complain about the universe not doing what she expects it to. Or come up with ideas before I can." 

The head station doctor came in then. He told Jon off for disappearing, and insisted on doing tests and taking readings and generally making a big fuss. Jon sent Brianna to fetch his wheelchair. The Doctor went off somewhere, and once the station doctor failed to find anything wrong with Jon, Brianna wheeled him back to Martin's apartment.

She’d hoped to get some homework done after that, but the Doctor had very rudely taken the TARDIS somewhere, with her satchel inside.

She should have left it in her apartment. Oh well—she needed a nap anyway. 

Chapter Text

Martin woke on a space station in a black hole in another universe.

Against the backdrop of everything that happened the past few years, he supposed he couldn’t complain. But he was tired of all of this. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—he’d been so worried about losing Jon or dying, or being consumed by the fears, or some combination, that he hadn’t had much time to think about what he actually wanted to happen after it was all over.

And then Anabelle Cane had promised a way out—a way to get rid of the fears, to save the world—and he had dared to hope that once they followed her plan, well… he and Jon could maybe live a normal life together.

But no, of course it hadn’t worked out that way. Of course Jon hadn’t liked the plan that would have made him into a side character instead of the noble, self-sacrificing hero he seemed convinced he had to be. Of course he had gone behind Martins’ back and of course Martin had been too late, even though he’d known, and he’d had to…

Had to…

He glanced over at Jon, who slept peacefully beside him, eyes closed for once—probably thanks to the alphabet soup.

He looked so restful.

Martin reached out and gently traced a gray streak in his hair, trying to work through all the tangled up, complicated feelings.

Jon had… well, Jon had chosen the Watcher’s Crown… over him. But maybe that was just the influence the Eye had over him. Maybe now that they were…

But dammit, they weren’t free of the Fears, not yet, because of course some stupid space wizard would show up to drag them off to where the Fears were now. Of course he would want Jon’s help, because for all his supposed genius, he just couldn’t figure this out on his own.

Well, now Jon and Martin had explained things to the Doctor, and both ends of the deal had been held up. So the next step was to get out of here before Jon decided to try and be a hero again. Martin glanced toward the bedroom door, and was pleased to see someone had leaned his crutches against the wall by the bed.

Except… hadn’t he locked the door?

He got up and swung carefully across the room to the dresser to dig out another pair of drab, generic clothes. They were comfortable at least.

“Martin?”

He turned to see Jon carefully sitting up.

“Hey,” he forced a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as terrible as I’d expect,” Jon said. There was a bit of a tightness to his voice, like he was in pain, but he looked a bit better than yesterday.

“You need rest still,” Martin said, then frowned and glanced over to the clothes hamper, which had Jon’s hospital gown crumpled up in it. “Uh… were you up while I was asleep?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Someone left some clothes and your crutches outside the front door.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“Not much,” Jon said. “I still… I slept for a week, Martin. I think I’ve done enough of that.”

Martin frowned. “Well, we’ve done what the Doctor wanted. We told him about the fears. So now we can go. We can… go somewhere and… and not have to deal with any of this ever again.”

“That sounds nice,” Jon said, and Martin breathed a sigh of relief. He had worried Jon would try to argue with him about it.

“Somewhere nice,” he said again. “I mean, this place is accommodating, but…”

“They can’t afford luxury,” Jon said. “It’s hard to ship anything into a black hole, even if anyone outside cared enough to send them things.”

“Yeah,” Martin frowned. “Um… who told you that?”

“Brianna.”

“Okay. Just clarifying.”

“Just checking that I wasn’t using my evil powers to look up fun facts about black hole space stations?”

“Well,” Martin sat on the bed again. “Can you blame me?”

Jon looked down. “I… do think… I can sense the Eye. A bit. But… it’s faint. It’s weak here. And… I… I think it sees us without knowing where we are. I think… we are safe, but… I don’t know for how long.”

“Have you told the Doctor?”

“...Not... we haven't really had a conversation about it. He… I ought to tell him. I will. Next time I see him.”

Martin nodded. “Good,” he said, then smiled. “I’m glad you’re awake...I mean, from the coma.”

Jon smiled back. “I love you.”

Something about the way he said it threw Martin back a week, and suddenly he could feel the handle of the knife in his hands, slick with blood. He could feel Jon's weight in his arms, and the slab ov concrete crushing his leg. He could see the agony on Jon’s face, as he twisted and spasmed and choked on the blood welling up from his lungs, for hours...

“What?” Jon reached out toward him, but the IV in his arm stopped him short. "What's wrong?"

“I… I stabbed you.”

Jon shook his head and put his other arm on Martin’s shoulder. “I asked you to.” His eyes were the same—steady, accepting, loving.

But…

Martin sighed. “Am I still allowed to be sorry about it?”

“No,” Jon said. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine for… breaking my promise. And we were both under a lot of pressure. It seemed like the thing to do.”

“Why?” Martin said. “How would me stabbing you keep us together? I should have just… I don’t’ know, put out your eyes to sever your connection.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “Why didn’t you do that?”

“I didn’t think about it!” Martin said. “I was caught up in the moment.”

“Of stabbing me?” Jon said.

“Well…”

He laughed softly. “We both were,” he said. “Like I said, we were under a lot of stress, and… in a way, it sort of did work out.” His face fell. “For… us, at least.”

Martin remembered their little excursion yesterday. “No,” he said firmly. “If I’m not allowed to feel bad for stabbing you, you’re not allowed to feel bad for the things the Fears did in other universes. None of that is your fault. We did what we had to do.”

He was never going to forgive the Doctor for that. He knew it would haunt Jon forever, no matter if the Doctor managed to destroy the Fears or not.

“I think,” Martin said. “The rest of the day, we can hide out in here. You pretend to be asleep if anyone comes looking, and I’ll tell them off for bothering us. And then tomorrow, we can insist that the Doctor take us somewhere else in his spaceship and leave us be. Home, maybe, or… maybe some other planet where you won’t get murdered by an angry mob.”

Jon looked down, with a troubled expression.

“We have to leave this behind,” Martin said, and the unfairness of it all hit him again. “We were going to leave this behind us, Jon, why did you have to…?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, but his voice was hollow.

“Jon?”

“I… want to stay and help.”

Martin sighed. Of course he did. “I know you do,” he said. “I know, but I don’t want you to get hurt. Can’t you… can’t you just let it go, Jon? For… for me?”

Jon bowed his head.

Martin waited.

“Okay,” Jon said. “Okay, if the Doctor doesn’t need any more information from us, we can go. We can… put all of this behind us, like you want.”

“Thank you,” Martin said. “Now I’m going to—”

There was a knock at the door.

“Pretend to be asleep,” Martin said, and went to tell whoever it was to go away. He left the bedroom and crossed the little front room living space to open the door a crack. “Do you mind? Jon’s—”

“Breakfast!” Brianna said. “Well technically dinner, but as far as I'm concerned any meal can be breakfast if you use your imagination. Anyway, half an hour from now, in the storage room where the TARDIS is parked. I raided the kitchens—they let me take anything I want, since I’m part of the whole save-the-univrse crew. And I have a little camp stove, and some pans stashed on the TARDIS. I have toast and coffee and a whole tray of fruit, and I might even make pancakes.”

Martin blinked. “Well, um…”

“See you there!” Brianna added, and strolled off before Martin could tell her they couldn’t make it.

He sighed and shut the door, then went back into the bedroom. “What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing,” Jon said quickly.

Martin frowned. “It… would be rude, not to go, I suppose.”

“I am a little hungry,” Jon said. “More than I was yesterday, at least.”

“Alright,” Martin said. “Well, I guess we can go. It’ll be a good time to break the news to them that we’re quitting the uh ‘save-the-universe crew’”

“Right,” Jon said, still clearly amused.

“Guess we’d better get ready then,” Martin said. “Um… do you want the shower first?”

Jon got to his feet with a grimace.

“Whoa, wait, do you need—”

“I can walk,” Jon said. “I’ll be fine.”

Brianna waved at Jon and Martin as they appeared. She had considered hosting breakfast in the TARDIS but since both Jon and Martin seemed wary of it, she’d just found a table and dragged it to the center of the mostly-empty storage room.

The Doctor had been skeptical that they’d come at all, but that was why he needed a friendly face tagging along with him. He didn’t really appreciate the appeal of a good breakfast, not being human, and not needing to eat so often.

“Huh,” Martin looked up at the TARDIS which was now strung with flower garlands. “I see you redecorated.”

“They block fear,” the Doctor said, emerging from the TARDIS “They hide the TARDIS from the Fears while I’m traveling.”

“Oh,” Martin said.

“It was Jon who gave me the idea,” the Doctor said.

Martin frowned at Jon who shrugged self-consciously. “While you were asleep, I spoke with the Doctor and Brianna some more.”

“I see,” Martin said, then glared at the Doctor.

“I have some more questions for you,” the Doctor said.

“Let’s eat first.” Brianna put in quickly, gesturing at the spread she’d laid on the rickety cart she’d scrounged.

They sat down in the mismatched chairs she’d collected for the table.

“So,” the Doctor said, pouring himself some coffee from the metal pitcher she had swiped from the kitchens, into a mug with pink and red hearts on the rim. “How are we feeling? I see you’re still walking on your own.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “I’m… feeling alright. You had questions?”

“In your story,” the Doctor said. “You claimed your voice was used to draw the Fears through a crack in the universe.”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“I suspect they did something similar the other two times,” the Doctor said. “But do you think they’d still follow your voice?”

“The plan, by the way,” Brianna said for Martin’s benefit. “Is to lure the Fears into a black hole.”

Martin looked alarmed.

“Not this black hole, of course,” Brianna said. “We’ll go for a bigger, uninhabited one.”

“Well?” the Doctor said.

“Hmm,” Jon said. “The Web is clearly dominant, based on the form the Fears have taken, and the Web is…”

“Clever,” the Doctor supplied.

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “Outsmarting it… would be difficult, to say the least.”

“I’m not talking about tricking it,” the Doctor said. “But if it can be pulled through a crack in the universe, surely it can be pulled around within one.”

“A weakness,” Jon said, picking at his toast. “Yes, that might be a weakness. The Mother of Puppets relies on the reins it uses to guide its victims. It relies on others for its strength, manipulating from the shadows, but if someone else takes the reins…”

Martin cleared his throat and Jon and the Doctor turned to look at him.

“This is all… fascinating,” he said. “But Jon and I wanted to let you know we won’t be sticking around here much longer. Now that we’ve held up our end of the bargain, we want to be dropped off somewhere safe, like you promised.”

Jon looked conflicted, but nodded.

“Sorry,” the Doctor said. “Not possible at this point.”

“Wha—excuse me,” Martin spluttered. “You said—!”

“For two reasons,” the Doctor held up one finger. “First, that.” He pointed to the IV stand. “The alphabet soup’s not an easy commodity to come by in most places, and until we get him weaned off of it, he’ll probably die without it.”

Jon seemed to shrink into his chair a little.

“Second,” the Doctor said. “We can’t take him out of the black hole. You were there on our trip in.”

Jon looked up. “What happened on the trip in?” He asked.

Martin and the Doctor glared at each other.

“You uh… sort of woke up,” Brianna said. “As soon as we were in the same universe as the Fears. And you.. got really intense. You almost looked at me, and I was about to pass out from terror.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “I think I… vaguely remember that.”

“It saw you,” the Doctor said. “And started to come for you. It was very difficult to move the TARDIS under the full strength of its gaze.”

“Can’t you just… take us to another universe?” Martin asked.

“It’s not easy to travel between universes,” the Doctor said. “And it’s also not easy to fly out of a black hole. I can’t do both at the same time. Any route I take will put us within reach of the Fears, and I somehow doubt even the flowers will hide the TARDIS with him on board.”

“You just don’t want to let us leave,” Martin accused.

“Martin…” Jon said. “it sounds like, if you want, you could—”

“I’m not leaving you!” Martin said.

Jon smiled, then looked down at his toast again. “I’m the reason it’s unfeasible, though. I could… join you after.”

“No!” Martin said. “Do you...you don’t want me to leave, do you?”

“No,” Jon said quickly. “I want you to stay—No, I-I want to go with you. But it sounds like…”

“Don’t pretend this isn’t what you wanted,” Martin said. “God, I should have known.” He put his face in his hands.

Jon reached out toward him, flinched, and turned away, looking ashamed.

Martin took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said. “What do we have to do? To… to lure the Fears into a black hole—that sounds so stupid.”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said. “Jon?”

“Well…” Jon said. “I… it is possible they’ll still be drawn to my voice. I’m the best bait we have. I’m sorry, Martin, it’s just true.”

“Yeah,” Martin grumbled. “I know.”

“But my presence—while it may be enough to get the attention of the Fears—won’t be enough. To draw them to me, I’ll probably need to take a statement, which means we’ll need to rescue someone who’s been taken by the Fears. Of course, if… if the Web realizes what we’re doing, it could get harder.”

“You need a witness.”

“Yes.”

“That the Fears won’t notice is missing.”

“Yes.”

“Leave that to me,” the Doctor said. “And you’ll just… ask this person to describe what happened… and they’ll be compelled, and it will draw the Fears to wherever you are.”

“It would probably be most effective if this person has had a run-in with more than one Fear,” Jon said. “Ideally all of them.”

The Doctor nodded. “I’ll see what I can manage.”

Brianna wasn’t sure she liked the look on his face.

Martin apparently had similar reservations. “So let me get this right,” he said. “You’re going to just… take a statement right outside a black hole and what? Dodge out of the way and hope the Fears fall in?”

“Do you have a better idea?” the Doctor asked.

“What if the Fears just… take him?”

“I won’t let that happen,” the Doctor said. “I promise.”

“And what are you going to do to stop them?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” the Doctor said.

“I don’t!”

“Martin?” Jon said softly.

“What?” Martin rounded on him, then softened. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I’m just… I’m frustrated with this whole situation.”

“I want to be done with it too,” Jon reached out and took Martin’s hand. “Really. But… when it’s over, I want to be able to live with myself.”

Martin sighed. “You said you’d leave with me.”

“And I would, if that was an option,” Jon said. “But I think… this might be the only way.”

Martin shook his head, and looked at the Doctor, but didn’t let go of Jon’s hand. “It’s not going to work,” he said. “If it was that simple—just throw them in a black hole…”

“And you had plenty of black holes at your disposal to try and put it in?” the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Well, no, but… a black hole? Does gravity even work on the Fears? They don’t exactly follow the laws of physics. I feel like that’ll just make them stronger!”

“Information can’t get out of a black hole,” the Doctor said. “They’d be stuck.”

“But it can still get in,” Martin said. “What if they can still feed on people’s fear?”

“What if they can?” the Doctor said. “So long as they can’t do anything anymore, who cares if they survive? Worst case scenario, we have an extra spooky black hole that eats a handful of travelers and scientists who get too close. That’s better than what it’s doing now.”

“I still think it’s not going to work,” Martin said. “And you’ll be putting Jon in danger for nothing.”

“Why?” the Doctor said. “Because it’s too simple? Wasn’t one of your potential plans to just keep the Fears trapped in your universe and let them run their course?”

The Doctor and Martin glared at each other.

“Would that have worked?” the Doctor asked.

“It would have,” Jon said quietly.

“Remind me why you didn’t carry that out.”

“Because it would have killed everyone on our entire planet!” Martin said.

“Because…” Jon added quietly, almost bitterly. “I was outvoted.”

There was… there were a lot of things that didn’t quite make sense about the end of their story. Jon had sort of skipped the part where Martin had, for some reason, stabbed him, and they seemed to have some unresolved conflict between them.

She supposed that wasn’t really her business.

Her optimism about the power of eating breakfast together had been in vain, and they finished in grim, surly silence, with Jon only taking a few bites of toast, and Martin giving up after one pancake.

They left to return to their living space, and probably to keep arguing, based on their expressions. Brianna felt sorry for them—she couldn’t imagine being put in this sort of situation. It couldn’t be easy on their relationship.

But it wasn’t her place to get involved, and she had her own crazy demigod with a savior complex and a death wish to worry about.

She watched the Doctor get up from the table and walk over to stand pensively in front of the TARDIS. He turned to look back at her for a moment, and there was a terrible guilt and hopelessness on his face.

“Doctor?” Brianna got up and walked over to him. “Is this… this whole thing is worse than you’re letting on, isn’t it?”

“It’s as bad as I’ve said,” the Doctor told her. “The part that’s worse is stopping it—that we have to do whatever we can—whatever we have to.”

“You know, you could probably travel from here, to back in time before that thing entered our universe, and then take Jon and Martin somewhere safe. If you take them back in time far enough, you wouldn’t even need to move them to another universe.”

The Doctor sighed. “Whatever we have to do,” he repeated.

“So Martin was right—you were just looking for excuses to keep Jon here.”

“I don’t know if the TARDIS would let me cut them loose,” the Doctor said. “She’s behaving… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not always in control of where we go. And she’s as invested as I am in getting rid of this thing.”

Something was wrong. Brianna had a sinking feeling in her gut that she didn’t know all of it yet. She stepped between the Doctor and the TARDIS to try to force him to look her in the eyes. “How are you going to find a witness for Jon?”

He shook his head. “If I tell you and you try to talk me out of it, I don’t know if I’ll be able to…”

She shook her head. “You’re not going to let it take you. You can’t—”

“No,” the Doctor said. “I wish that would work, but I don’t know how I’d get back out—I can’t risk that.”

“Oh,” she said, comforted in some ways, but even more worried in others. “Then…”

“I’m leaving you here again,” the Doctor said. “Keep an eye on Jon and Martin.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“From your perspective, probably not long,” the Doctor said. “Just a few hours if I’m lucky.”

“And from yours?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you soon.”

She caught his arm as he entered the TARDIS. “Be careful,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thank you,” he said, and stepped inside. She stood back and watched as it disappeared, listening to the familiar, comforting sound of it as it faded away.

Chapter Text

Maybe this would be the end of it, Jon thought. Maybe this plan of luring the Fears into a black hole would work, and then he really could do as Martin wanted. They really could go home, or somewhere safe, and everything would work out.

But he couldn’t believe it yet.

He wouldn’t believe it, he was fairly sure, for a very long time. He would be looking over his shoulder, jumping at every unexpected noise. 

He looked across the kitchen table at Martin, who seemed absorbed in reading something on a tablet that had been issued to him. Jon had been given one too, along with several more sets of clothes, and a few other standard issue items.

He didn't blame Martin for not wanting to talk to him. Jon knew he wasn’t exactly easy to be around. Even before all of the terrible things had happened at the Magnus Institute, people hadn’t generally… liked him.

He’d told himself he didn’t mind. He’d told himself he disliked them right back, that they were lesser somehow, beneath his notice. That it was better—safer—for everyone involved if Jon kept his distance. He’d felt that way about Martin at first, where Martin… Martin had always been kind, always patient and cheerful and friendly. Jon had no idea what the man had even seen in him to admire.

There was a knock at the door, and they both looked up from their silent, awkward vigil at the kitchen table. Jon glanced at Martin, and then got out of his chair to go answer it, ignoring the spike of pain in his chest.

A man he didn’t know stood outside. He wore the uniform of station security.

“You’re wanted on the observation deck,” the man said.

“Alright.”

“Do you need any assistance?”

“No, thank you,” Jon said, and shut the door.

Martin set the tablet aside and reached down for his crutches.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to," Jon said.

Martin hesitated, but didn’t look at him. “Do you… want me to stay behind?”

“No,” Jon said. “I want you there, I just… know this is all… upsetting.”

He finally looked up. “I’d be upset from here too,” he said. “And I... I want to make sure… make sure you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” Jon said, glad their recent argument hadn’t driven that much of a wedge between them. “It’s…” It was more than he deserved. But he didn’t want to say that like he was seeking validation. He wasn’t—it was just… the truth. “After this, we can do whatever you—”

“I know,” Martin said. “Okay, but we don’t know if it’s going to work.”

Jon looked down.

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“I… don’t know,” Jon said. “I won’t lie to you… I do want to help—even if it doesn't work.”

“And I can’t stop you,” Martin said glumly.

“Well… like I said, I’m willing to let go—”

“What was that about lying to me? If we left you’d still be thinking about it, for the rest of our lives, isn’t that what you said?”

Jon looked down, rubbing the doorknob absently. “Yes.”

“So I guess there’s nothing to do but give this a try and see what happens,” Martin said. “But… what do I do if you don’t come back?”

The knife wound burned. “The Doctor seems to think it will be safe.”

“And we trust his judgment?” Martin said. “He had to ask us about the Fears. So how does he know how they’re going to interact with a black hole, of all things.”

Jon frowned.

“Do you think it will work?” Martin reached for his other crutch, which was on the floor just a bit too far from him. Jon had to pick it up and hand it to him.

“Luring it, yes,” he said. “The black hole’s another matter. You make some good points. But… I think, if anything, we’ll have a good chance of getting back safely, even if something goes wrong. The Doctor, he’s… more powerful than he seems.”

Martin sighed and swung up onto his good leg. “Alright,” he said. “Well, shall we go have another look at the multiverse’s biggest spider?”

Jon smiled and led the way to the door. “Let’s,” he said.

He was tired, and not really looking forward to walking to the observation deck and then probably all the way back to the TARDIS but Martin couldn’t exactly push him in the wheelchair, and he wanted to walk alongside his boyfriend.

He was worried about this too. Worried about the black hole, about exposing himself to the Fears enough to try to lure them toward him. Worried about taking a statement. It had been about a day since he’d sort of taken the Doctor’s, and he was feeling fine—no cravings or… well, there was the weakness and occasional dizzy spells and that sort of thing, but he wasn’t sure if that was connected or just a residual side effect of being mostly dead for a week.

He glanced at the ‘alphabet soup’ as they walked. He could… sort of sense the stories it was feeding into him, but he didn’t know them, not really. He just got glimpses, fragments, a person here, a place there, a happy moment, a sad one. It was strange, but not unpleasant.

They stepped into the elevator.

That was another issue. They could hopefully wean him off of it, but… he wasn’t sure. In the end, they might need a permanent source of it.

They could worry about that if this worked. If it didn’t… if something went terribly wrong, and the Fears took him...

“Jon?” Martin said.

“Hmm?” Jon looked up at him. “Just thinking.”

Martin nodded. “About?”

“Nothing,” Jon said. “Just… I love you.”

“You too,” Martin said. “I hope this works.”

The elevator doors opened and they walked the rest of the way to the observation deck, followed by the clack of crutches and the squeaking IV stand wheels.

Brianna, the Doctor, a man Jon recognized as the director of the station and—for some reason—a young boy who looked to be eleven or twelve were waiting for them inside.

Jon spared a look up at the Fears on the screen. They were still wearing the form of an enormous spider with extra eyes, barely-defined legs, and lots of teeth.

He couldn’t shake the sense that it was looking back at him specifically, but he tried to ignore that.

Why was there a little boy here? The whole thing where the Doctor had had a war council in a primary school classroom had gone better than he would have expected, but Jon couldn’t really condone the bringing of a small child here to see the Fears. Then again, the boy didn’t look particularly frightened…

Oh, no…

“Why is there a kid in here?” Martin asked, but Jon stood frozen, horrified.

“Ah, there you are,” the Doctor said, and waved them over. He wore a stiff, careless smile that barely extended to his mouth, much less his eyes.

He met Jon’s gaze and nodded grimly.

“No,” Jon said.

“I told you they really wouldn’t like it.” Brianna crossed her arms. She looked upset too, but not nearly upset enough.

The boy was looking at Jon now, with curious eyes far too old and sad for his face. Jon didn’t want to look back, to see him.

“Jon,” the Doctor said. “Martin, this is Noah.”

“Wait,” Martin said. “Hold on, a kid?”

“Do you do anything at all but complain, Martin?” the Doctor asked. “Why are you even here?”

Jon put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “First of all,” he said. “Don’t speak to my boyfriend that way.” He took a step forward. “Second, and more importantly, I will not take a statement from a child.”

“He volunteered,” the Doctor said.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I told you there are only children left in the universe the Fears visited last,” the Doctor said. “He’s been marked by all the Fears, and he’s willing.”

Jon shook his head.

“If I take the TARDIS to one of the currently occupied planets, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back. The flower garland helps, but it's not enough to hide the TARDIS completely. I thought about going to your universe, but you already know everything that happened there. I think our best chance of success is someone from his.” he gestured at Noah.

Jon shook his head. “Go back and get someone from my universe.”

“If all goes well, we’ll have him home by nightfall, and we can put this behind us.”

“No.”

“I don’t like it either—”

“Then go back and get someone else!”

He met the Doctor’s gaze and saw once again that glimmer of something powerful and dangerous, and remembered this was someone who he could not afford to make an enemy of, someone who had the last say, someone who could destroy him without remorse.

“Noah, is it?” Martin said softly. “Are you alright?”

The boy glanced up at the screens, then nodded. “I’m okay,” he said. “I want to help.”

Jon looked down. “It’s not even your universe,” he said.

“It’s not yours either,” the boy said. “And they’re coming back to mine someday. That’s why…” he shuddered. “That’s why they left some of us alive.”

“They won’t come back in your lifetime,” Jon said. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to help,” the boy said, and looked up at the Doctor for encouragement.

“Let him help, Jon,” the Doctor said. “He’s a child, but that doesn’t make him weaker. And he knows what he’s getting into.”

“Does he?”

“In some ways he’s less of a child than you,” the Doctor said. “He has a good three thousand years of memories. He’s been through things you can’t even comprehend.”

Jon looked at the boy again and Noah stared back, unflinching.

“Were—”

“No,” the Doctor said. “Not in here. In fact, it might be best if you don’t say anything more until we’re ready. I’d rather not draw that thing into this black hole, and things got a little unpleasant last time we had a conversation in this room.”

Jon took in a deep breath. “Right,” he looked at Martin, almost hoping he would protest again. Martin wasn’t so scared of the Doctor.

But Martin just frowned and shrugged a little, looking worried.

“Those who stay behind can watch from here,” the Doctor said. “That screen.” He pointed to a smaller screen that displayed a strange-looking tangle of gold and black “That’s got the black hole we’re aiming for on it.”

“Can I come?” Brianna asked.

“I would rather you stay here,” the Doctor said. “If anything goes wrong—”

“I can live out the rest of my life on this space station,” Brianna finished dully.

“Exactly,” the Doctor said. “You’ll love it! You’ll get to see all of space from this room.”

“Yeah, except with a giant fear spider blocking the view.”

"Oh, you can change the settings so it's invisible." 

Jon glanced at Martin. “I won’t try to stop you from coming…”

“On that weird, bigger-on-the-inside spaceship?” Martin said. “To watch you take a statement from a child? No thanks.”

“Right,” Jon said. “For the best, probably. And if we don’t come back, you and Brianna can mourn us over a cup of tea and move on.”

Martin looked hurt.

“Sorry,” Jon said quickly. “I didn’t mean… I’m… I just really don't want to do this.”

Martin nodded. “I know,” he said, then shuffled one of his crutches to the other arm so he could pull Jon into a quick side hug. “Be careful,” he said. “And… come back.”

“I’ll try,” Jon said.

The Doctor waved for him to follow, and he pulled away from Martin and walked alongside the boy, who was looking at him again.

“You were… from the Watcher,” Noah said. “Right?”

Jon nodded, still not wanting to look at him. “And you?”

“Death,” the boy said.

Jon nodded. Death avatars tended to be neutral, passive. The End didn’t need to hunt—its prey came to it inevitably and inescapably. The fear of death plagued nearly every living being, following them nearly their whole lives. Strange, though, for a child…

Jon supposed he’d find out soon enough.

He still felt nervous entering the TARDIS but it was just a subconscious thing, a memory of the danger that came from stepping through strange doors that lead to impossible spaces.

“Alright,” the Doctor said grimly. “Here we go.”

Jon braced himself, but there was no sensation of moving, just an odd noise. He hesitated, then knelt in front of Noah.

Could he really do this?

“I’m not… well, I’m scared,” Noah said. “But not that scared. You don’t have to be so worried about me.”

Jon wasn’t so sure. “Do… you don’t happen to have a pocket knife? Or… anything sharp?”

Noah looked confused, but searched through his pockets. He pulled out a little ball of string, some crumpled paper, and a few interesting-looking coppery coins before he found a dull and rusty-looking nail. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “That… that should hopefully do.” He was immortal-ish, right? He couldn’t exactly get tetanus, could he? “Okay, Noah, here’s what I want you to do. If…” he took a deep breath. “If you do get scared… if you need me to stop,” he held out the arm that wasn’t connected to the IV. “I want you to stab me right here with the nail.”

It was Noah’s turn to look concerned.

“I heal from injuries quickly,” Jon said. “it won’t hurt me that badly, and it might stop the statement if it’s… if it’s too much. Can you do that?”

Noah looked down. “I… don’t want to… to kill people anymore.”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “It won’t kill me, I promise.” Though… could he promise that? After all, this was an End avatar. The magic healing thing sometimes worked differently when it interacted with other Fears. “And it’s just if you’re too scared. Just if you need me to stop, alright?”

Noah nodded and gripped the nail tightly in his hand.

Jon could feel something pressing on the back of his mind. Faint, but somehow heavy, unyielding.

“Alright,” the Doctor said. “We’re here. I’m going to open the doors.”

Jon looked up. “Is there air?”

“The TARDIS provides a protective little bubble of atmosphere,” the Doctor said. “What, do these look like airlocks to you?” He threw open the doors.

Jon gasped as the presence of the Eye flooded through him. There was something blocking his connection—a gold fog around his vision, wispy, burning, clouding everything. But that was probably good, because there was so much more to see here. He gritted his teeth, glad he was on his knees already, as the flood of knowing drowned his mind.

Noah whimpered.

“Ask your questions,” the Doctor said.

Right.

Jon looked up into Noah’s eyes and took a deep breath. It took a few tries to get the words out. “How did… tell me… tell me what happened to you.”

Noah fidgeted, and shot a frightened glance out the open doors. “I… I don’t want to,” he whispered.

Something was wrong. The immense pressure built in Jon’s head, but he couldn’t scream.

“Hurry it up!” the Doctor said. “It’s seen us!”

“I…” Noah said. “Okay, well… it started… a long time ago. There were… well, I don’t really remember much.”

Jon couldn’t hear, couldn’t see.

It hurt.

His eyes wouldn’t close. The TARDIS seemed to be made of bold black and white sketches, like an old comic book. He didn’t want to look, but had no control over his head as it turned to look out the doors.

The Eye was there, staring at him, watching.

Jon felt himself get to his feet and take one step toward it.

Then the TARDIS doors slammed shut, breaking the spell. Jon collapsed into them, screaming as every atom in his body was suddenly on fire.

The pain didn’t fade as the TARDIS shuddered and screamed its own agony, and then finally there was a thump and its normal whooshing sound, and Jon’s head cleared.

He groaned and got to his knees as the pain finally backed off, leaving behind the icy throbbing in his chest, and a pain in his arm where he’d yanked out the IV.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked.

“What was that?” the Doctor demanded.

“I don’t know,” Jon said. “I… I couldn’t do it.”

“The whole universe is at stake here!”

“I know!” Jon snapped. “Believe me, I saw when you opened the doors. But… I-I couldn’t. It’s not that I wasn’t trying. It felt like something was… blocking my connection. It’s still there, just…” Jon shakily took his hands away from his still-aching head.

“You took my statement,” the Doctor said.

“I did…”

“What was different then?”

“I don't know. I didn't do that on purpose,” Jon said. “And I was weaker. I was… hungry.”

They both looked at the IV, which was dripping pearly liquid on the floor.

Jon sighed and covered his bleeding arm with the opposite hand. “I guess… I won’t bother to have that put back in.”

Martin had tried—and failed—to refrain from pointing out that he’d said it wouldn’t work. Of course, Jon not being able to take a statement hadn’t been on his list of reasons. It almost worried him, until he realized that it was likely a good thing. It meant healing, not some sort of weird, avatar illness.

And then they’d reluctantly explained that they were going to try again after Jon had been off the alphabet soup for a few days to see if that was the problem, which Martin was not happy about, but it wasn’t like anger had made much of a difference so far. No one listened to him—no one ever listened to him.

He was, at least, relieved that the Fears hadn’t snatched Jon the moment he was outside of the black hole. But now he had to worry about his boyfriend turning back into a trauma vampire or going into a coma, and that was bad enough.

He hoped against hope that nothing would change—that what had happened with the Doctor was a fluke, and that Jon really couldn’t take statements anymore, because that would mean they were no use to the Doctor, and maybe, just maybe he would stop trying to use Jon as bait.

But he couldn’t stop worrying so he just pestered Jon about how he was feeling, until Jon snapped at him and said he was going to go lie down, which seemed answer enough, and not the answer Martin wanted.

That night, Martin woke from a nightmare to find Jon sleeping with his eyes open again.

Chapter Text

Jon woke hungry.

He’d had one day of consciousness without this greedy, desperate need and he’d somehow forgotten what it was like.

He looked over to see Martin was still asleep. He wondered briefly if he should wake his boyfriend up but decided against it. Martin was worried enough as it was, and he needed rest.

Jon got up and quietly changed. Their living quarters were nice. He supposed that was important for a generation space station. The bedroom was large, and the bed was easily wide enough for both of them to sleep comfortably. There was also a living room, two bathrooms—one connected to the bedroom, the other to the living room—and a sort of kitchen/dining room nook. It didn’t have a stove, but there was a small fridge, some cupboards and drawers, and a sort of microwave thing. Martin had promised to show him how it worked, but they hadn’t had a lot of time for casual conversation.

He went out to wander the hallways, feeling as restless as he did weak. He still couldn't quite know things, at least not on purpose. It didn't hurt anymore if he tried—that had definitely been the alphabet soup's interference—but his connection to the Eye was weak, distant. It seemed to get a bit stronger as he reached for it, so he tried to resist the urge. He didn't want to bring the Fears here. They would endanger everyone on the station, including Martin. 

He had a few dizzy spells on his way to the TARDIS and had to take a minute to sit on the ground. Once, one of the station people came and asked him kindly if he was alright, but he waved her away, insisting he was just resting for a bit.

He found Brianna and Noah sitting at the makeshift table by the TARDIS eating a light breakfast.

Noah noticed him first and waved, and Brianna turned to see him.

“Oh, hey, Jon. Eggs and toast?”

Jon hesitated, but he really needed to sit down anyway and Noah didn’t seem upset to see him, so he joined them. “Yes, please.”

She made up a plate for him and pushed it in his direction, then poured him some orange juice. He felt just a tiny bit like she was babying him, but he didn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling?” Brianna said. “if Martin hasn’t asked you a hundred times already this morning?”

“He’s still asleep,” Jon said and took a bite of toast. “And I’m fine. I… think taking a break from the Alphabet soup is going to have the desired effect, though. I can already feel it.”

“Hmm,” Brianna said. “Well, eat that whole plate, please. You hardly had anything yesterday.”

“I’m not entirely sure I need to eat at all,” Jon said. “But… I’ll try.” He glanced at Noah. “How are you?”

Noah shrugged shyly.

“I’m sorry things went so badly yesterday. Are you still sure you want to do this?”

Noah shrugged, then nodded. “It’s… scary seeing them… like that.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “But one more time… hopefully.”

“And then I can go home,” Noah said, and sighed. “The food’s better here.”

“Oh,” Jon realized. “What do you eat?”

“There’s a lot of cans,” Noah said. “But the bread’s all bad. We’re figuring out how to farm—well, the others are. They didn’t want my help.”

“Well, have as much toast as you want,” Brianna said. “And maybe we’ll send you home with some bread, or…” She frowned. “I wonder if there’s a way to help. All of you, without parents or adults at all…”

Jon looked away.

He had done that.

In the end… in the end, he’d given up—he’d let the fears go to save Martin. He could have held on… could have kept the fears from killing Noah’s parents and all those quadrillions of other people…

The doors of the TARDIS opened and the Doctor came out, interrupting Jon’s guilt.

“Ah,” he said. “How’s our archivist doing?”

Jon took another bite of toast and didn’t answer.

“A little moody,” Brianna said.

“So no change then,” the Doctor said.

Jon shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “I think I’m starting to… I think I might be able to take a statement now.”

“We’ll wait another day, to be sure,” the Doctor said. “Unless you think you’ll pass out again.”

“That’s a definite possibility,” Jon said. “If we wait too long.”

The Doctor nodded. “As soon as you’re sure you could take a statement, then. Let me know.”

Jon nodded.

“Good. Finish your breakfast and then I’d like to talk.” he turned and went back into the TARDIS.

“He seems… friendlier.” Jon said.

“He’s… also moody, off and on,” Brianna said. “Honestly, he’s usually a lot friendlier, but the circumstances have… put him on edge.”

“I can’t blame him,” Jon said. “How about you? How are you doing with all of this?”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Brianna said. “Trying to stay positive. Someone has to.”

Jon smiled wanly. “I suppose so.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

The pain in his chest was worse today, on top of everything else. He nodded, and forced down a mouthful of orange juice.

Martin tried to tell himself it was a good sign that Jon was gone when he woke up. It meant he wasn’t in a coma, at least. But the memory of that last morning, in the tunnels, waking to find Jon gone, going after him to stop him from doing anything too stupid.

Reaching the top of the tower too late.

Seeing him like that—like… like Elias had been. More in control, more him, but still…

And then…

Martin reached for his crutches and got out of bed. He couldn’t shake the worry. What if Jon had gone with the Doctor to try the black hole again and it had gone wrong? What if Jon had gone for a walk and collapsed somewhere? What if he’d done some other stupid, ridiculous thing. Why had he just left? Why hadn’t he woken Martin first?

Martin found them in the storage room with the TARDIS. Jon and the Doctor were sitting at the table having some sort of staring match while Brianna and the kid—Noah—were kicking a football around.

Martin was glad to see the kid looking happy—he’d been almost eerily solemn the day before. Then again, when you’d lived through an apocalypse…

He swung over to the table on his crutches, where Jon and the Doctor didn’t even seem to notice him.

“Uh,” he said. “Hello? Is there some reason we’re staring deeply into each other’s eyes?”

The Doctor looked up in annoyance, and Jon blinked and shook his head as if to clear it..

“I’m trying to teach him telepathy,” the Doctor said. “I was curious to see if he could.”

“Breakfast, Martin?” Jon asked cheerfully. “There’s still some eggs—sorry they’re a bit cold, and Noah ate all the toast.”

Martin dropped into a chair next to Jon. “Mind-reading?” he said irritably. “I think that’s the opposite direction we want to go, don’t you?”

Jon tilted his head and smiled slightly. “Martin… you’re not jealous again…”

“Oooh, read my mind, did you?” Martin reached for the plate of scrambled eggs.

“Less of a mind-reading thing,” the Doctor said “More of a language. You have to be able to project your thoughts and receive those of others. Jon’s condition makes him a good receiver, though he hasn’t been able to project anything.”

Jon nodded. “I’m like a vessel,” he said. “Or… more of a conduit. And I have apparently got a big metaphysical hole ripped through me, where my connection to the Eye was severed.”

Martin frowned. “But… I thought you’re… sort of still connected to the Eye.”

“It can still connect to him,” the Doctor said. “But now anything else could too. That’s part of the telepathy training—blocking things out.”

Martin frowned. “So like… something could what? Possess you?”

Jon shrugged.

“Potentially,” the Doctor said.

“It will be a good thing to learn,” Jon said. “No matter where we end up. There’s no guarantee whatever’s wrong with me will… actually heal.”

Martin still didn’t like it, but he figured he’d bring it up again later in private. As nice as it would be to not worry about anything possessing Jon, he really didn’t think teaching Jon to communicate telepathically was a good idea. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Jon said proudly. “I think we can try again with the black hole tomorrow. I’m sure it will work by then.”

Martin had reservations about that too. He still thought a black hole would be the sort of place the fears got more powerful, not less. But who was he to say? He didn’t have a teleporting police box. He hadn’t even been qualified to be an archival assistant.

“Martin?”

Martin sighed and swallowed his mouthful of cold scrambled eggs. “You know how I feel about it,” he said. “I’ll just be happy when all of this is over.”

He finished the eggs the others had left and then went to join Brianna and Noah. He couldn’t exactly kick the ball, but he could knock it back with his crutches, and that was entertaining enough.

He was quietly pleased when Jon declined more telepathy training, and the Doctor left to keep an eye on the observation deck screens. Honestly, that man had better watch out he didn’t become an Eye avatar himself.

He was less pleased when Jon declined to come kick the football around with them. It was kind of exhausting, though, especially on just one leg, so he was relieved when Brianna called it quits and they all went back to the table.

“Where do they get the eggs?” Martin wondered.

“Oh, there’s a whole section of the station that’s farms,” Brianna said.

“Right,” Jon said. “Can’t rely on outside food sources. How many people are on the station?”

“I don’t know,” Brianna said. “Um… that class of seven-year-olds had about twelve kids. If that’s the average number per age group…” she tilted her head to the side. “I think that makes about a thousand people, give or take. That’s… probably enough to keep things going. I don’t know the details of how they keep everything organized with who can have kids when, but… well, they all seem relatively well-adjusted and happy—at least the people I’ve talked to. They’re pretty tight-knit too—everyone knows everyone, so us outsiders are a bit frightening to them.”

Jon nodded.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Brianna said and gestured at the table. “Pass me those plates.”

She and Noah cleared the table and left with stacks of dishes and utensils to return them to the kitchens and help wash them. Martin had offered to help, but he couldn’t exactly carry dishes while on crutches, so he’d been left behind with Jon.

Jon did look worse than yesterday. More tired, maybe even in pain.

“Jon?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from his serious contemplation of the table.

“Are you… sure you’re okay with this?”

He sighed. “It’s just for another day,” he said. “Just until tomorrow. And then…”

“Then you can go back on the alphabet soup.”

“Right,” Jon said noncommittally.

“What?”

“It’s not the same,” Jon said. “It’s… the alphabet soup is somehow… filling without being satisfying. If that makes sense.”

“So you’d rather dine on people’s horrible experiences.”

“No,” Jon said. “Well, yes, but…”

“Really is like an addiction, isn’t it?” Martin said.

Jon nodded and put his head down on the table.

“Well, I guess you’d better not ask anyone any questions for the rest of the day, just in case,” Martin said.

“Probably for the best I keep my mouth shut entirely,” Jon mumbled.

“Do you want to go back to the room and take a nap?” Martin asked. “I’ll walk with you.”

Jon shook his head.

A few minutes later, Brianna and Noah came back, halfway through Brianna telling a story about some adventure she’d been on with the Doctor. Martin stopped them, reminding them that telling stories around Jon right now as like lighting a cigarette near a gas leak, so they stopped reluctantly.

They passed the next few hours chatting. Brianna and Noah seemed to have taken quite a liking to each other, and they made up drawing games in Brianna’s spiral notebook until lunch time.

“We should introduce you to some of the other kids here,” Brianna said. “I’m sure there are some your age.”

Noah looked down. “Do you think… they’ll like me? The other kids at home are scared of me.”

“I think they’ll like you,” Brianna told him. “In fact, I bet we could get them to come play football with us in the afternoon, once they’re done with school.”

Noah still looked nervous. “I…. I didn’t want to kill people,” he whispered.

Martin froze. “What?”

“He was an End avatar,” Jon muttered, startling Martin, who had thought he’d fallen asleep slumped over the table.

Brianna reached over and squeezed Noah’s hand. “You don’t have to anymore,” she said. “Never again, okay? I promise. Now, let’s go get some lunch. Jon, are you coming?”

He pushed himself to a sitting position. “Uh… no, I think. You go on ahead—I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, come on,” Brianna said. “You need to eat. You’re not being sustained by magical alphabet soup anymore.”

Jon sighed.

“She’s right,” Martin agreed.

“I just don’t… know that I can actually walk there,” Jon said

“Oh,” Brianna said. “I’ll go get your wheelchair then.”

“I’ll come too!” Noah chimed in.

“Here,” Jon handed Brianna the little key card that locked and unlocked the door.

“Thanks,” she said. “I always just leave mine unlocked. It’s not like I’ve got much to steal, and they have cameras in the halls so no one could sneak in anyway.”

She and Noah left.

Martin looked at Jon again, worried. “Do you feel like you’re going to pass out?”

“Maybe,” Jon said. “Honestly, I might go to bed early again.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Well, if you do,” he said. “Just don’t… just don’t go off to the other black hole without letting me know first. It…” Martin trailed off.

“What?” Jon said.

“It gave me a bit of a fright to wake up and find you gone.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, which was broken eventually by excited shouting from the hall. A moment later, Brianna came in, pushing a gleeful Noah in the wheelchair. She stopped short of the table and Noah nearly fell out, giggling helplessly.

“Alright,” Brianna said, out of breath. “Let’s go.”

“What about the Doctor?” Noah asked.

“I’ll bring him something,” Brianna said. “Get out, it’s Jon’s turn.”

Noah stumbled out of the wheelchair and Brianna pushed it next to Jon’s chair.

“Maybe not quite so fast for me,” Jon said with a wry smile.

“You’re no fun,” Brianna smiled back, wrinkling her nose.

“So I’ve been told.” Jon had to lean on the table to get from his chair to the wheelchair, which didn’t bode well. Martin swung on his crutches alongside them as they made their way to the dining hall.

Soups and sandwiches were on the menu for lunch, and Brianna and Noah left them at one end of a long rectangular table while they went to get food.

“You know,” Martin said. “The other times you were cut off from the Eye you got… sort of dizzy and forgetful and vague like this. Do you think the alphabet soup was preventing that?”

“Possibly,” Jon said. “But this feels different anyway.”

“Bad different?”

Jon didn’t answer.

Brianna and Noah came back with loaded trays and they all dug in except for Jon, who just nibbled at one corner of a sandwich and then seemed to give up.

“Hey, Noah,” Brianna said.

“Mhm?” he asked around a mouthful of cheese sandwich.

“Do you want to stay here? Maybe not—well, maybe here, here, if you make friends with the other kids your age. I bet they’d be happy to take you in as a favor for saving the universe.”

Noah looked up curiously.

“I just feel bad taking you home to a post-apocalypse where there’s no bread and everyone’s scared of you because of what happened.”

Noah swallowed. “I could really stay here?”

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “Or somewhere else if you want. I bet you could even travel with me and the Doctor for a bit until you found somewhere you liked.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Brianna said. “I’ll talk him into it. It’s the least we can do.”

Noah beamed, then ducked his head again, looking nervous.

“What?” Brianna asked.

He glanced anxiously at Jon, then away again, and Martin turned to see Jon staring hungrily at the boy over the sandwich he’d barely touched.

Great.

Martin cleared his throat. “Jon, uh… Jon? Mind not staring at the kid like you’re about to jump across the table and eat him.”

With what appeared to take a great deal of effort, Jon shut his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Jon?”

“I think… I think we might not need to wait for tomorrow before we try again.”

That effectively killed the mood for the rest of lunch. Noah went back to the sort of quiet reservation that he’d displayed the day before, and Jon made and obvious effort not to look at him, but still had to be reminded a few times.

Jon really did try to eat the sandwich. But it was tasteless in his mouth, undernourishing, insufficient, and smelling it made his stomach churn. The perpetual knife in his chest felt like ice, and his head swam nauseatingly. He looked down at the table, drowning.

Ashamed that he couldn’t just eat the sandwich. That he wanted Noah’s story instead. He could sense it, easily within his reach. He didn’t even care that Noah was frightened. The boy had to be frightened. It was best that way.

“Okay, well, let’s head back to the TARDIS,” Brianna said.

It was so hard to keep the words in—to wait. But he had to. Had to wait for the plan.

“I guess we’ll hold off on that game of football until we’ve talked to the Doctor—”

“Jon!” Martin’s alarm snapped Jon out of his effort and he looked up to see his boyfriend staring at him in horror.

“What?” Jon said, then followed Martin’s gaze down.

There was a spreading dark stain on his shirt right over the healed knife wound.

“Ah,” he said, touching it gently. “That doesn’t seem good.” His fingers came away wet with thin red liquid.

“Doesn’t seem good?” Martin said.

“Um…” Brianna said. “Yeah, new plan. Let’s get you to the medical wing.”

“I’m… probably fine,” Jon said. It sort of made sense, in a way. The alphabet soup had supposedly healed the wound—coming off of it… but this had never happened before, when he’d healed too quickly from wounds. They’d never come back.

Of course, they’d never kept hurting after they were healed either. It was more proof that the alphabet soup was just an inferior form of sustenance.

He tried not to look at Noah. It got easier once Brianna was pushing him down the hall. The boy tagged along behind, and Jon would have needed to crane his neck to look at him.

It got even easier when they got to the medical wing and Brianna left him there with Martin and the doctors, taking Noah with her.

He let himself relax into the gnawing hunger, now that there was no easy way to satiate it.

The wound on his chest was smaller and shallower than before—or so Dr. Hale, the head doctor on the station, said. He cleaned and bandaged it, which hurt, but Jon tried to bear it quietly because Martin seemed so upset.

Dr. Hale muttered something to the effect that in his professional opinion, Jon needed to go back on the alphabet soup right away, but then wandered out into the hall, leaving Jon and Martin alone for a minute.

Jon reached out to take Martin’s hand. “Look at me.”

Martin looked away.

“This is nothing new,” Jon said, not sure what was wrong, or what words might help. “And it’s not like… it’s not like I’m dying or anything, and well… I’ll go back on the alphabet soup as soon as we’re done. Martin, what? What is it?”

Martin’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Please, Martin, talk to me.”

“I stabbed you,” Martin said. “I…”

Jon sighed. “Martin...”

“I stabbed you! And then the building collapsed, and my leg was trapped and I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t reach the knife, and you weren’t dying.”

Jon stared, helpless.

“And you… you just kept coughing up blood and… and… for hours. And every time I thought it might finally be over, you’d lurch about again and open your eyes, and… and you looked like you were in so much pain, and I couldn’t… couldn’t do anything.”

“I’m… so sorry,” Jon said.

Martin laughed bitterly and wiped at the tears on his cheeks. “You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Jon said. “It was my fault. You know that. I’m the one who went and took Jonah’s place. So, I’m sorry.”

Martin sniffled and took Jon’s other hand too.

“If it helps at all, I don’t remember most of it,” Jon lied. “Just waking up here.”

Martin took a deep breath.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jon said. “I am going to be okay. We survived, Martin. We’re still together, in another universe.”

“But it’s not over yet.”

“It will be,” Jon promised.

The door opened and the Doctor came in, while Brianna hung in the doorway.

“Ready?” the Doctor said.

“One moment,” Jon said, and let go of Martin’s hands. He forced himself into a sitting position and took Martin’s face in his hands. “Look at me… I will be back soon. Okay?”

Martin nodded, then pulled him into a gentle embrace that could never have lasted long enough.

Then it was back in the wheelchair, back into the hall, trying not to look at Noah on the way to the TARDIS.

Noah bit his lip to stop from saying he didn’t want to go. If he said that, then Brianna wouldn’t let the Doctor take him, but then this universe would end up like his. He didn’t want that to happen.

Brianna hugged him tightly and then knelt in front of him as the Doctor helped Jon out of the wheelchair and through the TARDIS doors.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

He’d almost felt like a real kid again, just for a little bit. In some ways, he knew he still was a kid. Apart from the nightmares, he probably could slip back into the boy he barely remembered being before everything had changed.

“Noah?”

“I’m okay,” he forced himself to say.

“You still want to do this?”

It was different now. Jon was different. He’d been scared too—he’d been kind. Now he was just a starving servant of the Watcher. Noah understood—he probably understood better than anyone about Jon. But that didn’t help.

“Noah? You don’t have to—”

“I still want to go,” Noah forced out.

“Okay… do you want me to go with you?”

It wouldn’t help. He shook his head. “Stay here,” he said.

Brianna hugged him one more time and smiled encouragingly and then let him go.

Jon was kneeling on the ground already. He’d put his bloodstained shirt back on, but Noah could see the bandages peeking out under the collar. He stared at the ground, breathing heavily, deliberately.

Noah heard the TARDIS activate and waited, holding his breath.

“Still have that nail?” Jon said, through clenched teeth. Noah reached into his pocket to find it, and nodded, grasping the little piece of metal like a lifeline.

A few seconds later, the Doctor left the controls and crossed to the doors.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” Jon said and looked up with ravenous eyes.

Brianna stood next to Martin, arms crossed, as they watched the screens in silence.

“How long has it been?” Martin asked. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“Ten minutes,” Brianna said. “They should be there. They shouldn’t be long now.”

“What if it doesn’t work again?” Martin said. “What do we do next?”

“Not sure,” Brianna said. She wasn’t sure if the Doctor knew either.

“At least this place is safe...”

“Look,” Brianna pointed at the screen.

The spider had sat still in its web save for its roaming eyes and grinding teeth. It had stopped moving once it had trapped the last of the inhabited planets.

Now it was moving again.

And it didn’t look like it was moving on purpose.

“Sister sun,” breathed Director Garrison. He had observed the attempt yesterday too, with a few select advisors and staff.

The spider scrambled in its web, legs tangling as it seemed to fight itself, clutching the strands with some distorted limbs, reaching with others toward some undesired destination.

And all of its eyes had fixed on one point.

Brianna could only assume it was the location of the target black hole.

“It’s working!” one of the advisors said. Brianna heard Martin take in a deep breath. He watched the screens with fascinated worry.

The spider scrabbled frantically, like it was being blown by a strong wind, and then suddenly a shadow fell over the screen showing the target black hole.

The spider warped horribly, flailing, twisting, shrinking. It seemed to take forever and yet no time at all, and then suddenly it was gone, along with all its webs and machinations, and the screens only showed distant stars and galaxies.

There was a cheer behind her and the director and his advisors shouted and laughed and hugged each other.

Martin still looked worried.

Brianna was too. “Shall we go see if the TARDIS made it back?” she asked him quietly.

He nodded.

They were almost to the door when there was a scream.

Brianna pivoted and watched in horror as a long thin leg reached out of the black hole.

And then another.

Slowly, laboriously, the spider climbed back out.

Then it roared.

Brianna screamed, maybe, but she couldn’t hear herself. She couldn’t hear anything, hands pressed to her ears, except for that drowning shriek—rage, triumph, hatred.

The lights flickered.

The screens filled with static.

The roar continued, piercing every fiber of Brianna’s body, boring deep into her skull. It lasted an age and then faded slowly until the pressure lifted enough for Brianna to realize she was lying on the floor in the dark.

The lights came back on and the screens popped back up, once again displaying the spider in all its hideousness.

It was moving again, crawling across the universe, motions jerky, limbs twisting in ways they should never have been able to.

Someone was sobbing.

Everyone was on the floor.

Brianna saw Martin getting up on his elbows, glasses askew. He’d dropped his crutches. She got up to help him.

“The TARDIS,” he said. “Did it come back?”

She didn’t know.

God, she didn’t know.

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she heaved Martin up to his one good foot and then dove to get his crutches. She fought hard not to run—to stay beside him on their way down to the TARDIS room. But the thought of being stuck here, watching that spider feed off the universe for the rest of her life…

She burst into a sprint and left him behind in the hall leading to the storage room.

Then she stopped in the doorway with a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the TARDIS.

There she was in all her glory. Tears filled Brianna’s eyes.

“Brianna!” Martin came swinging around the corner behind her.

“It’s here!” Brianna called. “They made it back!”

She heard Martin laugh in relief and rushed into the room. The TARDIS doors were closed, and Brianna had to pull them open herself.

The Doctor looked over from the controls with an expression that froze Brianna in her tracks.

Between them, kneeling on the floor with his face buried in his hands, was Jon.

Brianna stared at the Doctor, and he held her gaze for a few moments before turning away, silent, guilty.

“Jon!” Martin came clacking up on his crutches. “What…?”

Jon’s shoulders shook.

“What…” Brianna’s voice sounded ragged in her own ears. “What happened?”

The Doctor didn’t answer.

“Wait,” Martin said. “Where’s Noah?”

Neither of them said anything.

“Where?” Brianna demanded. “Where is he?”

“It took him,” the Doctor said quietly. “On its way in.”

No…. God, no…

“What do you mean it took him?” Martin demanded.

“And then it crawled right back out!” the Doctor snarled. “For nothing! All that for nothing!”

Rage drowned the horror. “That’s what you care about?” Brianna demanded. “That it was for nothing?? Not that you let it take a kid!!! I suppose it would be fine if it worked, right? Hell, why don’t we just throw all the kids at it! Maybe that’ll help!”

“That’s not what I meant!” the Doctor snapped back.

“How could you let it take him!!?” she screamed.

“I didn’t!” the Doctor pointed at Jon “He did!”

Brianna opened her mouth, speechless with rage.

“How dare you!” Martin took over for her. “He told you no! He said no and I said this wouldn’t work and you didn’t listen! He didn’t want to do this—not to anyone, but especially not to a kid! You talked him into it! Both of them! All of us! And we trusted you when you said they’d be safe! This is your fault!”

“I know it’s my fault!” the Doctor roared back, then slammed a fist into the controls.

Brianna was shaking. She pressed her lips together, wanting to cling to the rage.

The Doctor strode toward them, nearly tripping over Jon on his way out the door. Brianna shied away as he stormed past her, but he didn’t say anything, just left.

“I can’t believe this,” Martin said. “I can’t… that poor kid! Is he just… is he just gone?”

Brianna covered her mouth, clinging to the doorframe.

“Oh, God,” Martin said. “Jon’s bleeding. Brianna… Brianna, I can’t… we have to get him to medical.”

She steeled herself and blinked away her tears and went into the TARDIS. Martin was right. Jon’s blood had soaked through all his bandages and made an even bigger patch of red on his shirt.

“Jon?” she said, trying to pull his hands away from his face. One of his arms had a deep scratch in it that dripped more blood from his elbow to a splattered puddle on the floor of the TARDIS. “Jon we have to get you to…” she let go as she caught a glimpse of his eyes.

Then she took a deep breath and sat back.

“We have to get you to medical,” she said again.

Jon shook his head. “I couldn’t…” He choked. “I couldn’t hold on to him.”

“I know,” Brianna managed. “I’m sure… you tried. But… you need to get up. I can help you to the wheelchair if you—”

He shook his head and stood up on his own.

Brianna stood quickly, prepared to catch him if he stumbled, but he didn’t, just walked slowly past her and out the door.

She followed with Martin as Jon plodded slowly to the medical wing, almost as if in a trance. She pushed the empty wheelchair just in case, but Jon didn’t stumble, only paused once to cough blood onto the back of his hand.

The station doctors were a bit swamped with people who had hurt themselves during the Scream, but the man who’d been caring for Jon, Dr. Hale, saw them and waved them into the back ahead of the queue.

Brianna left them then and fled to her apartment, where she shut the door and sank to the ground behind it, choking on her tears, weeping for the little boy who’d just barely started to get the light back into his eyes.

Chapter Text

Martin started awake.

Where was he?

An awful sense of foreboding washed over him as he tried to remember why he’d dozed off in a chair in this empty hospital room—tried to separate the nightmares from what had happened…

The black hole thing hadn’t worked.

The fears had taken Noah.

Where was Jon?

The hospital bed in front of Martin was empty, and someone had carefully disconnected the alphabet soup IV line and left it draped over the stand.

Martin reached for his crutches and then got up and went looking for Dr. Hale

One of the nurses at the desk asked him to wait while she called him. It took a few minutes, but Dr. Hale came bustling around the corner.

“Hey,” Martin said.

“Ah. Is Jon awake?”

Martin’s heart sank. “He’s not here. He’s disappeared.”

Dr. Hale swore under his breath and led the way back to Jon’s room. “He didn’t even take the IV?” he said.

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Um… where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know,” Dr. Hale said. “I can’t believe the nurses let him just walk out of here!” He stormed off, leaving Martin in the empty room to think. Jon had been so… despondent. He hadn’t said a thing to Martin, even after they were done changing his bandages and doing tests to make sure he was stable. Martin hadn't wanted to leave him like that. 

Now he'd disappeared.

Martin left the medical wing and went to his apartment, but Jon wasn’t there either, though there was some evidence he had been—another medical gown in the hamper, the bathroom door slightly ajar.

Martin nudged it open with a crutch, just in case, but it was dark and empty.

He went back and wandered the halls he knew. He went to the storage room with the TARDIS, which was empty, except for the TARDIS itself. Then he went to the dining hall, then finally the observation deck. The Doctor was there, staring dully up at the fears on the screen, but he said he hadn’t seen Jon in a voice that very clearly said he didn’t care, so in increasing desperation, Martin went back to the living sector of the station to knock on Brianna’s door.

She opened after a moment, puffy-eyed and groggy-looking. “Martin?” she squinted.

“Sorry,” Martin said. “Jon’s gone completely missing. I can’t find him anywhere and he’s unhooked himself from the IV and I’m worried.”

She blinked a couple more times, then nodded. “Come on,” she said.

Martin followed her down hallways, trying to keep up on his crutches, tired from nightmares and stiff from sleeping in a chair and winded from rushing back and forth across the base.

She led him to an elevator, back to the same floor as the observation deck, but then took him a different way, through a door labeled ‘security.’

They told her she couldn’t be there, but she ignored them and bullied her way to the camera rooms that watched the station, citing the Doctor and her authority as his assistant. There, she instructed the guards to go through the tapes and watch for Jon leaving the medical wing.

It took a few minutes, but one of them found him, and then followed him on the cameras to the apartment.

“Keep going,” Martin said. “He’s not there—I looked.”

Sure enough, Jon came back out, dressed in regular station clothes, and wandered away.

He’d wandered the base, choosing floors randomly, aimless, until he’d finally ended up in a room full of pipes and tanks and big metal boxes.

“That’s the central fluids hub,” the security monitor lady said. “It’s restricted—he shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

Martin watched as Jon sat down behind a big pipe, just out of view of the camera. “How long ago was this?” Martin asked.

“’Bout an hour,” the lady said.

“I’ll… I’ll go check on him. Talk him into going back to the medical wing. Thanks, Brianna.”

“No problem,” she said quietly.

Martin sighed. More walking.

It took him almost half an hour to find the room Jon had hidden in. Fortunately, he was still there, sitting on the edge of a deep pit that led down to more floors full of mechanics. He had his legs dangling down, elbows resting on the lower bar of the railing, staring out at the smooth opposite wall.

Martin sighed and carefully let himself to the ground so he could scoot out and sit next to Jon. His cast rubbed noisily against the treads on the metal floor, but Jon didn’t acknowledge he was there.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he waited in silence. If Jon wanted to talk about anything, he probably would. If not, pestering him probably wouldn’t help. It never did. Martin was just relieved they’d been able to find him. He also did not mind sitting down for a bit.

Eventually, Jon did speak.

“Am I going to get you killed?” he asked, barely audible over the hums and whirs and whooshes of whatever was going on in the pipes.

Martin didn’t have a good answer for that.

“The Fears should have taken me,” Jon said. “They could have. But they took Noah instead, and left me… My whole life, I just… get people killed, while I survive.”

“Jon?”

“Did I ever tell you about the Leitner book that ate my childhood bully?”

“Jon.”

“And then… Sasha and Tim, and—”

“None of that was your fault.”

“I requested them, both of them,” Jon said. “And then they both died.”

“Well, I mean…”

“And if I hadn’t requested them I might have requested other people who would have died instead.”

“You didn’t know.”

“That’s the point,” Jon said. “If it was an active choice, I could stop doing it. But it’s not. It’s just… everyone who died in the apocalypse on our planet, and everyone who died in those other universes, and everyone in this one who’s being eaten by the End right now is dead because of my choices and actions. Indirectly, yes. Not on purpose, no. But it’s all connected to me and all I can do is watch. I suppose… I suppose that’s what made me so compatible with the Eye.”

Martin wasn’t sure what to think about this quiet, defeated, self-reflective Jon. He… couldn’t exactly refute most of the things Jon was saying. But… he wished Jon wouldn’t blame himself for all of it.

“I just… don’t know what to do,” Jon continued softly, and stared down at the machinery in the belly of the space station. “I keep thinking I can protect people, but…” he rubbed his bandaged arm. “He tried to stop me, but the Fears are so much stronger now. And… I tried to hold onto him, but they took him with them. I could… I could try to go after him, but I’d probably just get stuck too, watching everything, one with the Eye and the Web and all of them.” He rested his arms on the lower railing again and leaned forward. “I can’t… I can’t protect anyone. I never have.”

Martin took a deep breath. “You’ve always protected me,” he said.

Jon sighed.

“With the worms… and then when you insisted I stay behind from the Unknowing.”

“That was your plan.”

“And you rescued me from the Lonely.”

“Martin.”

“Which, by the way, also saved me from the Web. Our bond stopped them filling me with spiders—did I ever tell you Annabelle said that. Also, I’m pretty sure I only made it through the apocalypse by virtue of my proximity to you. I could never have made that journey on my own.”

“Stop—”

“What?” Martin said. “You wanted to feel sorry for yourself? You wanted to have never saved anyone? You’ve saved me so many times, Jon. And here I am, still saved.”

Jon finally looked over at him, and Martin smiled at him, before remembering what had happened yesterday.

He looked away again.

“Martin”

“The Doctor wanted our input,” he said. “And then he ignored it—mine at least—and what happened… it’s terrible. But it’s not because you’re bad at protecting people, Jon, it’s just… it’s never been a good situation. And you can’t save everyone—no one can do that. But I’m grateful.” He put a hand on Jon’s arm. “Imagine if it had still been Gertrude when I started working at the archives? She’d have thrown me to the wolves—or in my case, probably the worms. I’d be dead if it wasn’t you there.”

Jon shifted his arms so he could put a hand on top of Martin’s. “...thank you,” he said.

“Any time,” Martin said. “Um… how are you… feeling? We should probably get you back on the alphabet soup.”

“I’m alright,” Jon said bitterly. “Great even. I had a statement yesterday, after all.”

Martin looked down.

“I… don’t want to go back yet. I don’t want… other people right now. Just… just you.”

“Okay,” Martin said. “We can sit here for a while.”

Brianna woke from a nightmare. Something about spider and her little brothers—she was grateful when it faded.

It had been a week since they’d lost Noah.

The planets had had a momentary respite before the spider re-spun its web and trapped them again. Jon and Martin had been mostly avoiding her and the Doctor, which was fair. She’d avoided the Doctor herself, for the first few days. She hadn’t really had the strength to be worried about him, even though she didn’t blame him.

It had been her idea, after all. Sure, just chuck something spooky that didn’t follow the laws of physics into a black hole… Martin had been right.

It had been a desperate, rushed plan. The sort of plan that, if she was being honest, usually worked for the Doctor. He wasn’t used to being, well… wrong about anything. Being defeated.

She kept trying to tell herself it wasn’t over. That the Doctor would figure something out, that this was just a temporary setback.

But they’d gotten Noah killed—he was dead.

She forced herself to get out of bed, to move because wallowing wouldn’t change anything, just make her feel worse than she already did.

It was like this sometimes.

Sometimes bad things happened. Sometimes the Doctor made a mistake. Sometimes people died. You had to keep moving.

She got ready for the day, stopped by the dining hall, and swiped some breakfast for the Doctor.

She checked the observation deck first, but he wasn’t there. On to the TARDIS then.

There was a beat-up old tablet leaned up against the door.

Strange.

She swooped down to pick it up on her way in. It looked heavily-used, covered in dings and scratches.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully.

The Doctor was staring at the TARDIS controls, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“I brought you breakfast.”

He looked up.

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t need food. I know you eat and sleep like everyone else, just… not on our same schedule. So humor me, and then I’ll give you the present someone left on your door.”

The Doctor eyed the tablet as she held it up.

“I don’t know,” she said before he could ask. “It was outside. Eat first.”

The Doctor looked annoyed, but didn’t protest as she shoved the plate of food into his hands. She studied the tablet while he ate.

“Any idea what our next move is yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” the Doctor said. “Anything written on that?”

Brianna shook her head. “Just wondering how old it is. How many generations it’s passed through. Everything in this station is so old.”

He shoveled another bite of food into his mouth, pacing while he chewed. Restless was good. Restless was better than languid hopelessness like he’d displayed the last few days.

“Here.” she handed him the tablet when he was done, and he spun it over a couple of times and then managed to turn it on.

“Annie Harper,” he tapped on the name displayed in the top corner. “Smartest girl in her year. Let’s see what she’s got for us.”

There was a file icon separate from the others on the screen that was labeled “Mr. Doctor.” Brianna looked over his shoulder as he opened it.

A short note was typed on the first page.

[Annie and some of her classmates heard about what happened and wanted to share their support.] it read.

On the next page was a drawing. It looked like it had several contributing artists and depicted what appeared to be an epic battle between a funny-looking spider and a group of unlikely warriors. She thought she recognized the Doctor and herself, as well as several kids, some ponies—one of which seemed to be a unicorn—a butterfly, a woman with her mouth wide open—singing, maybe—and an exploding oval that might have been a bomb.

It made her remember the drawing game she and Noah had played in her notebook, and she looked away, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat.

"Hm," the Doctor said, sounding... annoyed? 

Brianna looked up at him. "What?" she said. 

"Would you mind returning this to our young friend, Annie?" he handed her the tablet. "Thank her for the nice drawing—it was very helpful." 

"Was it?" Brianna arched an eyebrow as she looked at the drawing. 

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Made me feel much better about everything." 

Brianna frowned. "No need to be sarcastic," she said. "What—were you expecting her to solve our problem for us? Doctor, she's seven years old..." 

The Doctor sighed. "I need more time to think." 

"Do you..." Brianna tilted her head, studying the drawing more carefully. "Are unicorns real?" 

The Doctor looked at her, but didn't answer. 

"I mean, not just a horse with a horn on its head," she said. "Like... creatures with good magic. That help people... that could..." she looked up to see him looking troubled. "Well, that could fight the Fears." 

He shook his head. "As far as I know, we're in the only pocket of safety," he said. "And we don't know how long it will last. Nothing else in this universe has been able to hide from them, much less stand up to them."

"Right," Brianna said. "You're sort of this universe's last line of defense, aren't you?" 

The Doctor nodded. 

"What about other universes?" 

He scowled. "I don't know that that's a good idea."  

Brianna crossed her arms. "Are there or aren't there other beings in other places who might be able to stand up to the Fears?"

"Probably," the Doctor said. "There are likely any number of powerful beings in other universes. But drawing them into this fight..." 

"You just don't want to ask for help, is that it?" Brianna said.

"No," the Doctor snapped. 

She waited. 

"It's not just that." He amended. "The Fears are dangerous, and anyone with the power to fight this thing is probably essential in their own universe." 

"You just don't want to ask for help," Brianna reiterated. "If we fight alone, and the Fears destroy us, then they'll move on to other universes, getting stronger and more powerful as they go." 

The Doctor glared at her. 

"What?" Brianna said. 

"Again," he said. "I'm getting a dumb one next time. Go fetch Jon and Martin—I need to talk to them before we leave.”

It wasn’t exactly boredom. There were things to to, there just didn’t seem to be a point to them. The black hole plan had failed and the Fears had taken Noah, and now… what? Was there anything they could do? From the little Jon had heard of the Doctor’s exploits, he was quite powerful, and even he had failed to stop the fears. Even he was hiding out in this fragile shelter, watching the rest of the universe suffer.

It had only been few weeks, but already he wondered whether he’d spend the rest of his life here.

It could be worse. It could be a lot worse, but Jon didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget what was going on outside this tiny pocket of safety. And as much as the Doctor insisted they were safe here… he wasn’t so sure.

There was a knock at the door. Jon looked up from the couch where he’d been pretending to read a book on the tablet he’d been issued. They didn’t have any paper books, or paper anything. They could manufacture paper on the station, but most of the trees they grew were used for furniture, which lasted much longer.

He wouldn’t mind living here permanently—it was a fascinating place. If it weren’t for those screaming planets, it might even be nice.

“You going to get that?”

The door.

“I’d go, but…” Martin gestured to his crutches.

Right. Jon got up from the couch and went over to answer it. “Ah, hello, Brianna.”

“Hey, you two,” she said, sticking her head in to smile at Martin who was still sitting. “Wow, how long do you need that cast on?”

“Just a few more days,” Martin said. “I’m allowed to put a little bit of weight on it now, and I’ll still want to use the crutches for a while after, but we’re getting there.”

“Excellent,” Brianna said. “How are you two doing, by the way?”

“Jon’s bored,” Martin said.

“I’m not.”

“And depressed.”

Jon sighed. “I’m right here, you know."

“And how about you?” Brianna ignored him.

“Hmm. The same, I guess, but it has been just a tiny bit nice to have a week where nothing terrible happens”

“To us,” Jon muttered.

“I see what you mean,” Brianna said, smirking a little at him.

“Ha, ha,” Jon said dully. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t be rude,” Martin said.

“The Doctor wants a word with both of you.”

“One of the real doctors, or the Doctor Doctor?” Martin asked.

“Doctor Doctor,” Brianna said. “Had a kid’s drawing left on his doorstep and now we sort of have a plan. Sent me to go fetch you so we could talk it over with you.”

“Annie?” Jon asked.

They both looked at him.

“Uh… Jon…?” Martin frowned.

“She was in the school,” Jon tried to explain. “When the Doctor—the war council. You were there Brianna. I didn’t just know, It seemed… logical. I mean… I am still somewhat connected to the Eye, but it’s faint. I can’t know things, I’ve told you it hurts when I try.”

“Right,” Martin said. “Plug your alphabet soup back in.”

“I feel fine,” Jon said, but reconnected the IV to the port in his arm. “There, happy? Let’s go hear this plan.”

Martin almost didn’t want to know what the Doctor wanted. He had the sneaking suspicion it would involve putting Jon in danger again.

And Jon would, of course, agree to anything that might assuage his guilty conscience.

It was one of the things that was both infuriating and endearing about him. Martin just wished… just wished Jon could be obsessed with fixing something more attainable than the entire multiverse.

The Doctor was waiting for them outside the TARDIS, sitting at the table, studying a tablet. Martin swung over on his crutches and sat next to Jon, while Brianna sat across from them.

The Doctor pushed the tablet over. It was, as Brianna had said, a kids drawing. Looked like a battle between a bunch of stick people and a stick spider.

Jon stared at it like it had all the answers in the universe.

Martin caught Brianna’s eye and she looked pointedly between Jon and the Doctor. He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much he liked her comparing the two of them.

“So,” the Doctor said. “What do you think?”

“Well,” Jon said. “The Fears have been… empowered—made tangible. What would stop normal fear won’t do anything about these actual dangers. And there’s no… opposing power. No magical incarnations of… of kindness, or hope, or joy, or anything like that.”

“There’s not,” the Doctor admitted, then added. “In your universe.”

Jon looked up.

“If there were,” the Doctor said. “In other universes. And I could gather them… do you think we’d be able to fight your Fears?”

“I… it could be worth a try.”

“I don’t know for sure if there’s a sufficient opposite power out there,” the Doctor said. “Clearly, this universe didn’t have any natural defenses against what you unleashed, but maybe others do. There was some evidence that Noah’s put up a fight.”

Jon nodded. “That might actually work.”

“I just have to locate them. It’s hard to travel between universes and I don’t know what I’ll find,” the Doctor said. “But I can’t think of another option.” He looked around at them. “Jon and Martin, I want you to stay here.”

Martin breathed a sigh of relief.

“My abilities…”

“Make you vulnerable,” the Doctor said. “I’d rather you stay here and keep out of trouble.”

“I’m fine with that,” Martin said, and elbowed Jon gently.

Jon sighed. “Alright.”

“And you said you weren’t bored,” Martin shook his head.

“Brianna?”

“Can I go with you?” she asked.

The Doctor sighed.

“What?”

“Yes,” he said. “In fact, I think you’d be a great help. But I do need to warn you—I don’t know how long this will take. We could be searching for years. We might not make it back here in your lifetime.”

Brianna looked down, then shook her head. “I’ll go,” she said. “More adventures, right?”

“Lots more, I’m sure,” the Doctor said.

“I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor said, then stood. “I’m going to get the TARDIS ready.”

They watched him until the doors closed behind him.

“So,” Brianna said. “Um… anything you’d like me to bring back? More tea? Video games? A therapist?”

Jon snorted.

“I wouldn’t say no to tea,” Martin said. “Um, and we are going to run out of the, uh, alphabet soup.”

“Right,” Brianna said. “Can’t forget about that. Also, I wasn’t joking about the therapist. You two need one.”

Martin glanced at Jon. “She’s not wrong.”

Jon ignored him. “How long do you think you’ll be gone from our perspective?” he asked instead.

“Hard to say,” Brianna said. “The TARDIS isn’t always… precise, but I doubt it will be very long. A few days or weeks. Maybe a month or two if we’re unlucky.” She pulled her notebook from her bag, hesitating as she flipped through it, expression saddening, and Martin remembered that she and Noah had drawn on some of the pages together.

“Tea,” she muttered as she scribbled on a fresh page. “Alphabet Soup. Any other requests? I’ll probably think of a few more things, myself.”

Martin looked at Jon, who shrugged slightly. “Er… just as long as you don’t bring any tape recorders.”

Brianna cocked her head to the side, frowning.

Martin laughed, which made Jon smile.

“Oh, right,” Brianna said. “You said… yeah.”

“If you do end up back in our old universe,” Jon said. “I did leave one of my ribs behind.”

“Excuse me?”

“In my desk. Of course, it’s probably rubble now.”

“Did you want Jane Prentiss’s ashes as well?” Martin suggested. “Or just the rib.”

“You know, you never did tell me if those were actually her ashes.”

“Okay,” Brianna said. “No, I don’t think we’ll bother with the rib—you seem to be managing fine without it. I’m going to gather some things from my apartment. If you have any serious requests by the time I get back, I’ll write them down.

She hurried off. Martin watched her go, frowning.

“What?”

“It’s strange that they’re going to leave, and then she might be ten years older when they get back. And I mean… I know we’ve been through a lot of strange things, but it’s still…”

“I know,” Jon said.

“Oh, do you?”

He shook his head. “You’re never going to stop making jokes about that, are you?”

“Probably not.”

Brianna returned a few minutes later, and the Doctor emerged from the TARDIS to give them some last minute instructions. Mostly things like talking Director Garrison down if he decided to do anything rash, and not getting desperate if it took longer than expected for him to return.

“Would you like me to look in on the Fears?” Jon asked.

“Hmm,” the Doctor said. “Sparingly. While I still think they can’t see us here, you’ve mentioned you can sense them. They may have some limited ability to affect us, particularly you. So I don’t want you to spend too much time watching them, but I don’t think a brief check-in every few days would be amiss.”

Jon nodded.

“With that settled,” the Doctor said. “Brianna, are you ready?”

She nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Then we’re off. Hopefully, we’ll bring back some kind gods.”

Chapter Text

Dr. Hale frowned. “So we don’t know when the Doctor comes back,” he said.

Jon nodded. “That’s right.”

“And it could be weeks?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Hale sighed. “Well, that’s not good news.”

“How much alphabet soup do we have?”

“At your current rate of consumption?” Dr. Hale said. “Enough for eight days. Did he give you a maximum time before he returns—theoretically with more?”

“No. Could be anything form a few days to, well… never?” Jon said.

Dr. Hale scribbled and tapped on his tablet clipboard thing with a stylus.

“So…” Jon said at length. “How dead am I?”

“Well,” Dr. Hale said. “Taking you off of it for just a day nearly put you back in a coma. And your stab wound opened up again.”

“I’m not sure… if that’s related,” Jon said. "The wound, at least."

“What makes you say that?”

“Well… when I took a statement, I felt… rejuvenated for a few days. But the stab wound got—if anything—worse. It’s… different from the other injuries I’ve sustained.”

“So maybe a statement doesn’t affect the wound, but weren’t you off the alphabet soup at the time?”

Jon looked down. “Yes.”

“Maybe you're right and it wasn’t related, but it sure seems like it. And either way, you nearly collapsed.”

Right. “So I’m… very dead.”

Dr. Hale shook his head disapprovingly “The real question here,” he said. “Is how much and how quickly can we reduce your dose without serious side effects.”

Jon took a deep breath, which caught at the invisible, intangible knife that was still stubbornly there, despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t.

“And the answer to that is we don’t know, but we don’t have the means of experimenting much.” He tapped on the clipboard some more. “Looks like if we reduce by twenty percent per day, we can drop you down to a quarter of what you’re taking now in about six days, and then we can slow it down and spend about a month reducing you to about five percent of what we’re giving you now. Then we’ll run out completely, but I doubt we can drop the dose faster than that. Overall, that would give you... about a month and a half.”

“A month and a half,” Jon repeated.

“But that’s only if you respond well to the initial drop.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we reduce your dose more slowly earlier, and we have less time before we run out and we hope the Doctor gets back soon.”

Jon let out a slow sigh, letting the information settle.

“It’s possible it will be fine,” Dr. Hale said. “It’s possible we’re giving you too much already, and it lowering the dose actually helps. If I had more time and resources, I might try adjusting it anyway, to see what works best.”

Jon nodded.

“And I… I suppose we could try an induced coma—you might need less if you’re unconscious, but we don’t have a lot of medical options for conditions like yours.”

“It’s alright,” Jon said. “Let’s see if we can wean me off of it. Drop the dose like you suggested.”

Dr. Hale nodded. “Staring tomorrow, I’ll give you one IV bag, and then adjust the concentration as we go. You’ll want to try and spread it out across your day.”

Jon nodded, and Dr. Hale gave him instructions to come in the next morning for a check-up and his first reduced dose.

Martin was waiting for him at the apartment.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

Jon shrugged.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “So long as the Doctor comes back in a timely manner.”

Martin looked concerned.

“It’s fine—should be fine at least.”

“How soon counts as a ‘timely manner’?”

“Uh… a couple months.” Jon didn’t want to worry him, not right now. “And Dr. Hale is going to start decreasing how much alphabet soup I’m taking, which should, um… help, if we run out before Brianna and the Doctor get back.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Martin said, and that was the end of the discussion.

The next day, Jon went to get his allotted alphabet soup, and then went to check on the Fears.

He watched them for a while as they added to their web. Despite the Doctor’s assurances that it couldn’t see into the black hole, he couldn’t help but feel it was watching him back.

He would catch an eye trained on him for a moment, but as soon as he noticed it, it would go back to rolling madly, and a different eye would lock onto him.

He was engrossed in trying to catch it for what he thought was only a few minutes, but when he left the observation deck, the clocks in the halls told him he’d been in there for hours.

Exhausted, and not the least bit reassured, he returned to the apartment for a nap, and then tracked down Director Garrison and gave him a list of things to look out for on the base and warning signs to look for in anyone who’d spent time observing the Fears. The Director—a sensible man—took the worry that the Fears had infiltrated the base seriously and did a full sweep of the station and turned up nothing.

Everyone was accounted for. No one had gone missing. No one had noticed anything significantly out of order. There were no mysterious books or items. The only potential worries were connected to the observation deck. Of those who’d spent time in the room with the screens, two had had mental breakdowns, and one had experienced the same sort of odd time distortion while watching the spider, but none of them had been acting strange since.

The base was still safe, probably.

For now.

Director Garrison promised vigilance, and Jon went back to the apartment, to find Martin waiting, excited to show off the fact that they’d taken his cast off, and he could walk short distances without his crutches.

The next day, Jon started to feel the effects of his decreased dose of alphabet soup. Today was eighty percent of eighty percent, which would be sixty-two percent of the original concentration if his math was right.

He didn't feel bad, just a slight drop in energy, and that could be accounted for by the stressful day before, so Jon took it easy, stayed in the apartment most of the day, and tried to rest.

The next day, he felt worse, and even Dr. Hale said there were some worrying signs in his vitals, but nothing significant yet. Nothing bad enough that they had to stop decreasing his dose.

But it had only been three days, and he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t make it the full six.

Jon returned to the apartment, feeling anxious and gloomy.

Martin was pulling a mug of tea out of their little microwave thing. He complained about having to use a microwave a lot, but even if Brianna had left her kettle behind, it was an electric one, and needed to be plugged in in the TARDIS because they didn’t have the right kind of outlets on the station.

“Hey,” he said. “How was your check-up?”

He’d have to tell Martin at some point, but Martin already worried about him too much.

“Fine,” he said, and sat down at the kitchen table.

Martin joined him. “Had breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Want to go to the dining hall?”

Jon sighed. “Just bring something back for me.”

Martin frowned. “Okay,” he said. “Just… don’t disappear all day like you did—”

“I won’t,” Jon said. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Okay,” Martin said. “I’ll be back with breakfast.” He waved and left without even taking his crutches—the dining hall wasn’t far from the station’s living quarters.

Jon put his head down on the table. His proverbial knife wound ached and he could feel the beginnings of a headache building. He sat back up and affected a neutral expression when he heard the doorknob turn, then moved his tablet out of the way so Martin could set the breakfast he’d taken down on the table.

“Did you know, I saw a cat in the hallway,” Martin said. “I thought there were just people here, but I guess it makes sense for them to have brought some pets. I wish we could get a cat or a dog or something. This place feels sort of… lifeless with just people. I mean, I’m not complaining that there’s no bugs or pests or anything, but…”

Jon looked up. “I suppose,” he said. “I feel like we’ve got enough ‘bug’ in the observation deck.”

“Again, I’m not complaining,” Martin said. “Or, I guess I am, a little. And it was nice to see the cat. It was friendly too, but I couldn’t pet it because I was carrying breakfast.”

An idea came to Jon’s mind. “Um… Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe… take a picnic lunch, explore the station a bit? Now that you can walk again.”

“That sounds lovely, really,” Martin said. “It’s been so hard to get around on the crutches. But… I don’t know if I’m ready for a long walk. I am supposed to go easy on the leg for a while still.

Right. “Hmm… I’m not really feeling my best anyway… but I’m tired of sitting around in the apartment. What if we brought the wheelchair and took turns walking?”

Martin looked at him. “You’re… very eager to make this work.”

Jon shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Now you’re being suspicious. What are you hiding?”

Jon sighed. “I… might have a destination in mind.”

“Really?”

Jon nodded.

“Okay… I’m intrigued now, so alright, let’s go.”

Martin must not have explored much. Jon should have known—he should have known Martin didn’t know.

They decided they didn’t want to bring the IV stand, so Jon spent a few hours hooked up to it, until he’d taken in about half of his daily alphabet soup allotment. Maybe it was his imagination, or just the prospect of showing Martin the actually nice part of the space station, but he felt energized as they set out. They lay the crutches against the arms of the wheelchair just in case, then went to the dining hall to scavenge and early lunch they could take with them. The kitchen workers, who Martin had already managed to befriend somehow, loaded them up with sandwiches and fruit and bottled water, which they piled on the wheelchair before Jon pushed it to a nearby elevator.

Martin was limping slightly, but he insisted he was fine and didn’t need the crutches or the wheelchair yet.

He did agree to sit down during the elevator ride, though, and they gathered up the food so he could take the chair before Jon went to the elevator controls.

“Oh,” Martin said, watching him press buttons. “We’re going all the way down.”

“Ground floor,” Jon agreed.

“Ground floor?” Martin said. “On a space station?”

Jon smiled slyly

“What?”

“You’ll see.” He leaned against the wall as the elevator started going down, then decided he wanted to sit down too. It was his wheelchair after all.

“Hey!” Martin said, as Jon sat sideways across his lap “Watch the sandwiches!” but he sounded amused more than anything, and he blushed a little when Jon kissed him on the cheek.

It had been a while, Jon thought, since he’d felt this… light.

And then he remembered and the moment was gone. The apocalypse, the trip through the various domains, Daisy’s death, Martin’s kidnapping, taking Jonah’s place, his severing from the Eye, the discovery that the Fears had destroyed other universes, the failed attempt to trap them in the black hole, losing Noah…

He tried not to let the change in his mood show on his face, though. He was determined that Martin, at least, would have a good day today.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Jon stood. “Don’t get up,” he said. “I can push you for a while.”

“You sure you won’t get tired?”

“If I do, we can trade places,” Jon said, and wheeled the chair through the door.

The hallway was wide, with tall, broad doors on either side, leading into various workshops and storage rooms. Martin looked curiously at them, but Jon made directly for the doors all the way at the end of the hall.

Martin gasped as they opened with an automatic swoosh and Jon pushed him out into the open.

Martin stared up at the indigo glass far above, then out over the rows and rows of crops.

“Is this…” he said. “How is this real? Is that… the sun?”

“It’s artificial,” Jon shaded his eyes. “And you’ll notice it’s a bit redder than ours. And the sky is actually just blue light filtered through the glass of the dome. The other wavelengths are captured and used to power the station, but it’s a pretty good approximation of the sky.

“It… does look a little odd,” Martin agreed. “The blue’s too dark for how high the sun is… right? God, I can’t even remember what the sky’s supposed to like. It’s been so long since… well, anyway, it’s amazing. How far does this go?”

“About a kilometer in all directions,” Jon said. “And the dome is almost a kilometer tall too.

Martin looked back up at the building they’d just exited, which stretched up impossibly high.

“Come on,” Jon said, and pushed the wheelchair forward. “We’re not there yet.”

Roads spread from the central building like spokes on a wheel. Most of the sections between were filled with crops, but Jon had made sure to go out the right door to get the area that was—at least this season—dedicated to something else.

He got tired a little more than halfway and let Martin switch places with him for the rest of the walk.

It was fairly obvious when they got to their destination.

Martin laughed. “Oh, Jon,” he said, and shook his head. “I was starting to suspect, especially when we passed those chickens.”

Jon let Martin pull him to his feet, and they walked together through the thick grass at the side of the road to lean on the fence together.

“Does this… are you happy?” Jon said as they looked out over the heard of grazing cows. “I know they’re not… as nice as the ones—”

“Yeah,” Martin grinned, then looked up at the sky again. “It does make me happy. Reminds me a bit of home.”

“Home?” Jon asked.

“Well, the safe house,” Martin said. “I know we weren’t there long before, well… but it was still more of a real home than I’d ever had before… if that makes sense.”

“Me too,” Jon admitted, and leaned his head against Martin’s shoulder.

They watched the cows for a bit, and Martin tried in vain to coax one over with a handful of grass. Then they collected the wheelchair and their lunch and made their way to the grassy field across the road, where there were some trees to sit under with their sandwiches and fruit.

Even Jon had worked up a healthy appetite, and between the two of them they had no trouble getting through their lunch.

“Hey, look,” Martin pointed at the grass. “Ants!”

“Yes,” Jon said. “They have earthworms too, and isopods, and a few others. Lots of little ones and bacteria, and some pollinators.”

“Wow…” Martin said. “I knew you’d explored more than me… but you really did just walk around asking people questions about everything, didn’t you?”

Jon shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “I guess it’s in my nature.” He couldn’t quite remember who he’d asked about the bugs.

“You were always like a walking encyclopedia, weren't you? Even before the whole thing with the Eye?”

“Well,” Jon shrugged. “I read a lot of books as a child.”

Martin smiled. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s impressive.”

Jon looked down.

“Or maybe do be embarrassed,” Martin said. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Jon laughed and stretched out on the grass, happy for another precious moment before it all came crashing back down.

At least Martin seemed content. At least he’d been pleased about the cows, and he was having a good time. And maybe Jon could too, when all of this was over. If all of this ever ended.

They chatted about nothing and everything for a few hours, and then Martin suggested it was time to head back.

Jon tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him and he collapsed back to the ground.

“Jon?”

“Sorry. Just tired.”

Martin sat back down next to him. “And my leg is pretty sore.”

Jon laughed. “I guess we’re stuck here.”

Martin laughed too, and lay down next to him. “Well, it could be worse.” He closed his eyes, smiling.

Jon watched him, feeling guilty as the dizziness had reminded him of the alphabet soup situation.

He wouldn’t be able to pretend much longer. Maybe… God, he didn’t want to ruin their… their date, but…

“Martin?”

Martin opened his eyes. His smile dropped off a little as he took in Jon’s expression. “Yeah?”

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

Martin looked genuinely concerned now. “What’s wrong?”

“I… you know how I came back from the medical wing the other day and told you not to worry, and that we had enough alphabet soup for a few months in case the Doctor doesn’t come back until then.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Was that a lie?”

“Not… exactly. But… well, there’s not really that much left. Dr. Hale is trying to wean me off of it as quickly as possible, so that we can stretch it out. He’s dropping the dose by twenty percent every day, and we’ll slow down when I get ill enough he’s concerned for my… well, I don’t know if I’ll die exactly, but when the symptoms get bad enough. I… if I can make it six days at the twenty percent drop, we’ll have more like a month and a half before we run out.”

Martin shut his eyes.

“That’s the best case scenario.”

“And… you’re already feeling the symptoms?” Martin guessed. “That’s why you can’t… can’t even stand up.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Today is… the third day. It’s... worsening rapidly. If the Doctor gets back in the next week or two, I’ll probably be fine. If not… I don’t know. I might end up in a coma, or worse, prowling the halls hungry for statements, or like those… those archivists in the tunnels. I might even die, after a while. I don’t know.”

Martin opened his eyes again, but looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said.

“Sorry for… lying to me?” Martin said. “Or sorry that you might be…”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Sorry for both. I-I didn’t want to bring it up. I… don’t want you to have to watch me turn into a monster again, or… or…”

“Lie in a hospital bed for months,” Martin’s voice was distant, vague.

Which was worse than him being angry. “Martin?”

Martin was quiet for a long time before speaking. “So, today,” Martin said. “This is…. Just like that time we went out to dinner before… do you remember that?”

Jon’s heart sank. “I… yes, I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“I... I was trying not to get my hopes up too much, but you’d started acting differently around me, in that last week. You’d always been sort of protective of all of us, but this was different. You… seemed to care more. Seemed less annoyed. When you talked to me, there was more of… I don’t know, you were less harsh.”

Jon wasn’t sure what to say. He swallowed, sick with regret, and let Martin keep talking.

“I was leaving for the day, and you caught me on my way out the door. Said you wanted to talk to me, but not in the archives. I made some joke about you stalking me again as we walked out of the building, and you actually apologized for that.”

Jon looked up at the inky blue sky, and shook his head slightly.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it. And then you said… you didn’t know how things would go the next day, but you didn't quite want to say we might all die, and I didn't want you to say it either,” Martin swallowed. "So I sort of panicked and asked if you wanted to get some dinner with me?" 

Jon smiled. 

"God, I was so embarrassed," Martin said. "And you got all flustered, and I wanted to... I would have climbed into that coffin then and there. But... then you said sure, and we went to that place just down the street..."

“Yes, I remember.”

“And it was… it was nice. Things felt... normal for a couple hours, and we just talked. And I was happy. And I went home still terrified, but... also sort of hopeful, because you—you liked me, maybe. And if things went well the next day, with all of our plans for the unknowing and getting rid of Elias, there might be… more dinners like that. More time...with you. And we could get to know each other outside of work and see… well, see what happened.”

Jon reached over and took Martin’s hand. “And then things went about as badly as they possibly could have,” he said. “As usual.”

“They did. I… didn’t find out until I saw it on the news that night, about the explosion. And they just said… one dead, one in critical condition in the hospital. And no mention of the other two. And I didn’t know…” Martin’s voice caught and Jon squeezed his hand.

“Basira came back,” Martin said. “But Daisy was missing. And… and Tim…” He shook his head. “And you… I went to visit you a lot at first, to sit with you. But… they weren’t hopeful you’d recover, and then my mum passed and Peter Lucas got in my head.”

All the things Jon had put Martin through…

“And I thought… nothing really mattered anymore. It didn’t matter that you went out to dinner with me, because we were never going to speak again—you were as good as dead.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“But I was wrong,” Martin said and took in a deep, shaky breath. “Because you came back.”

Jon looked over at him again.

“And even though I was past believing it at that point, you didn’t give up on me. And then when I was lost, you came and found me.” Martin looked at him, smiling through tears. “And I wasn’t alone anymore.”

Jon swallowed.

“And yeah, I’m scared of being alone again,” Martin said. “But… we got through that, and… and everything after it, and we’ll get through this too, somehow. We’ll get through it if I have to sit by your bedside and read you, I don’t know, spooky history books or something, or… if you end up in a coma for a bit, or whatever happens between now and the Doctor showing back up.” He gripped Jon’s hand tighter. “We’ll get through this together..”

Jon nodded. “One way or another.”

They lay in the carefully cultivated grass and watched the artificial sunset before dragging themselves back to the wheelchair. Jon was exhausted, but there was no saving that, so he insisted Martin ride in the wheelchair to avoid hurting his leg. He managed to avoid collapsing until they got back to the apartment, and Martin helped him into bed and reconnected the alphabet soup so he could finish off his decreasing daily dose as he drifted off to sleep.

The next day was a bit fuzzy. Martin had to shake him awake to go to his appointment with Dr. Hale who seemed concerned and then annoyed when Martin explained that Jon might have overexerted himself the day before.

He insisted Jon lie down all day, which sounded like a good plan to Jon.

By the evening, he was feeling a lot more lucid, and even managed to eat some dinner.

The day after that, he felt both better and worse. He had a bit more energy, but the dull pressure in his head had mounted to a constant pain, punctuated by sharp spikes of agony.

Around noon, he collapsed out of his wheelchair and was, as a result, readmitted to the medical wing so Dr. Hale could monitor him more closely. The stab wound hadn’t opened back up, but it hurt worse than before, and there was an odd sort of divot in his skin over it that Dr. Hale said they ought to 'keep an eye' on. He didn’t seem to understand why they thought that was funny.

Jon was given an option—to backtrack to a higher dose and run out sooner, or to pause the dose where it was and start decreasing it more slowly. He chose the second option—he was pretty sure that was what Dr. Hale wanted him to do, and that way they had more time—even hospitalized as he was, he preferred this to the aching hunger of being cut off from the alphabet soup entirely.

Martin woke up alone.

No, he told himself. Not alone. Jon was just down in medical. He was sick, but everything was going to be okay.

He forced himself to get up, shower, dress, and get breakfast at the dining hall.

He wondered for maybe the hundredth time how long this would go on. How long before they could put it past them and not have to deal with supernatural injuries and evil fear entities and all of it.

Jon was so much more patient about it than him.

Patient. Heh.

Martin shook his helm at the pun and made his way to medical, taking his time.

He couldn’t help—well, he didn’t resent Jon for being sick, of course, but he resented the situation. He’d had… well, pretty much a whole lifetime of caring for a sick person—one who resented him… and Jon wasn’t like that. Jon didn’t resent him—Jon loved him.

Could you resent someone and still love them?

Could he resent Jon’s hospitalization without resenting Jon for it?

He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He should be grateful. Grateful that they were alive, that they were together, that they were somewhere the Fears couldn’t hurt them.

He made it to the medical wing before he really felt ready, but waved at the nurse at the desk, and went to Jon’s room anyway.

Jon was awake, with his hospital bed supporting him in a sitting position, and an untouched tray of breakfast on his bedside table. He smiled as Martin sat down next to him.

“How are we feeling today?” Martin asked lightly.

“Not terrible,” Jon said.

“Really?”

“Well, not any more terrible.”

Martin nodded. He hated hospitals. He hated the smell and the clean white walls, and all the rooms and machines and doctors with bad news. He wanted to go back out to the farm.

But not without Jon.

“Everything alright?” Jon asked. “How’s your leg?”

Martin nodded. “My leg is fine. It’s healing well. I’m just… worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Jon said. “I’ll be alright.”

Martin tried to smile at him.

“Ah, Martin,” Dr. Hale swept in. “Can I have a word?”

“Uh…” Martin got back up. “Sure.”

He followed Dr. Hale out into the hall.

“So,” the man said. “Correct me if I’m wrong—while wandering around in your world’s apocalypse, you didn’t need to eat.”

Martin nodded. “That’s right.”

“When I’ve talked to Jon, he’s indicated he’s relatively sure that’s still true for him, since he’s not hungry most of the time,” Dr. Hale said. “But it didn’t make sense to me, since he reportedly had more of an appetite on a higher dose of alphabet soup, which he claims is sustaining him physically.”

Martin shook his head.

“Yeah,” Dr. Hale said. “Well, I ran some blood tests, because some of his symptoms are… well, not inconsistent with malnutrition, and turns out he’s not eating enough.”

Martin heaved a sigh. “Right.”

“Do you know if he has any history of an eating disorder?”

“No,” Martin said. “Not that I’m aware… I think it’s probably just… just because of his connection to the Eye and the apocalypse and… everything that happened. I mean… damn, I should have been more worried. I… have a hard time thinking of him as having normal human needs.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hale said. “Well, let’s go chat with him. Maybe you can help me persuade him to eat.”

Martin followed back in, and Jon watched them approach with some concern.

“Morning, Jon,” Dr. Hale said. “Not interested in breakfast?”

Jon shook his head.

“Not hungry?”

“Not really.”

Dr. Hale sighed. “Well, you may not feel hungry, but your bloodwork suggests you’re starving to death.”

Jon frowned.

“You do need to eat,” Dr. Hale continued. “I’ll have them bring something easier to get down, but I want you to eat a full three meals today.”

Jon looked uncertain.

“What’s making it hard?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said. “I… it’s not that I don’t try, I just… it… feels wrong, somehow. Like, I don’t exactly get nauseous, but it’s somewhat similar. The food just isn’t appealing at all, and since I’m not hungry…”

“Okay,” Dr. Hale said. “But it sounds like you could force it down.”

“Probably.”

“I want you to try. Don’t overdo it, take your time, eat slowly. We’ll do smaller portions today, but I want you to get as much nutrition as you can stand to, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon said.

“If you can’t,” Dr. Hale said. “Then we’ll have to figure something else out. A feeding tube, maybe. So take this seriously, please.”

Jon nodded.

“Okay. We’ll get you a bowl of porridge and start with finishing that for breakfast.” He picked up the untouched tray of food. “Make sure to call the nurses if you need anything, hm? I’ll check in later today.”

He left.

Jon shut his eyes and leaned back against the pillows.

“Jon?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more worried about you not eating.”

Jon sighed. “No, I probably should have, I don’t know, paid more attention to it myself.”

They brought him a small bowl of porridge, which he valiantly made his way through, though he gagged a couple times, and didn’t quite finish, just spread the last few bites around the bowl to make it look more empty. Lunch—toast, applesauce, and a serving of buttery-looking green peas—didn’t go so well. He gave up after just one bite of the applesauce.

Martin watched him set the tray aside, worried. “Jon?”

“I know.” He sounded frustrated.

“Do you need help?..." Martin smirked. "I could do an airplane.”

Jon laughed and shook his head. “No. I really… I can’t.”

“Really.”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not just like eating when you’re full. I… I don’t know.”

“Well, Dr. Hale said the alternative…”

"I know. And I don’t want a tube shoved up my nose, but I… it’s sickening somehow. I just can’t explain it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right,” Martin said. “Well, sorry I bothered to care.”

Jon did seem to try with lunch, but didn’t make much headway. And he didn’t even touch his dinner.

Dr. Hale came at the end of the day with the required equipment for the feeding tube. “Alright,” he said. “Ready?”

“No,” Jon said, then sighed. “Oh well. Martin?”

Martin took his hand, anxious, hoping Jon wouldn’t ask him to stay, because he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he could do anything, and Jon would be under anesthesia anyway. He wouldn’t really notice Martin gone.

“You can go back to the apartment,” Jon said. “you’ve been here all day.”

“Thanks,” Martin said. “I… was planning on it, honestly.”

Jon nodded and sort of forced a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Martin got up and left, guilty and relieved.

Jon woke feeling groggy and alert at the same time, somehow. His head was filled with fog, but he could feel every sensation. The stiff hospital blankets, the IV in his arm, the tube snaking down the back of his throat, the knife in his chest. He had vague memories of people standing over him, desperate voices, pain… had something gone wrong with the intubation?

No… he remembered coming off the anesthesia.

There were bandages on his chest.

That was right.

The wound had opened up in a serious way. It had only been a matter of time, he supposed.

He looked over to find Martin sitting, watching him.

“Hey.” Martin smiled wanly. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“How long…” talking felt strange. It didn’t hurt exactly, but made him uncomfortably aware of the plastic tube in his throat.

“Less than a day,” Martin said. “Really, you just slept in a bit. Though… your chest wound opened up.”

“I remember,” Jon said, reaching up to touch the bandages lightly.

“I didn’t even know until this morning. I… maybe I should have stayed.”

“No,” Jon said. “It’s—”

“Maybe it’s me. I mean… I did give you that wound in the first place. Maybe I’m making it open somehow. I… felt bad leaving you alone last night, and then…”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jon said. “Look, it’s just… finally opened in response to the lower dose of alphabet soup.”

Martin sighed. “I suppose.”

“Also… look, Martin, I love you and I want you here every moment, but I don’t want you to feel tied to this hospital room. If you ever want to go for a walk, do something else, even take a break for a few days… please do. I want you to take care of yourself.”

Martin nodded and his smile was more genuine then, and Jon felt a little better.

The feeding tube did seem to do him some good. Despite the chest wound, which grew and shrink seemingly at random, he felt more alert and energetic for a week or so, at which point the decreasing dose of alphabet soup seemed to catch up to him again. It was starting to look like weaning him off of it wouldn’t work, or at least needed to happen much more slowly. It got harder to stay awake. Martin reported him sleeping with his eyes open more. He started to feel restless and hungry again, but also weak, cut off from the Eye, torn away.

He sometimes thought he knew things, though. Or maybe he was just delirious.

But there was one thing he became increasingly certain of.

He was too far gone.

He’d been too far gone when Martin had severed his connection. He wasn’t human enough to recover. Even if he had been up to the end, he had worn the Watcher’s Crown and there was no going back from that.

The realization wasn’t a surprise, but it filled him with a background sense of dread. He had promised again and again, but if the Doctor didn’t return quickly enough he would be leaving Martin behind despite his best efforts. And he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to tell Martin, but some day, even if everything went well when the Doctor returned and they defeated the Fears, even if they got to retire somewhere…

Jon would always be sick. He would always need the alphabet soup. If they ever ran out, he would die, especially without that faint connection to the Eye.

Martin had spent his whole life so far caring for an ailing mother. Now he’d spend the rest of it caring for an ailing partner.

And… how human was Jon? Was he human enough to age at the same rate? Some avatars hadn’t aged. But… they’d also had the Fears sustaining them. And Jon had the alphabet soup. Would that prevent him from aging?

He had nothing to do but worry about it all as he slipped in and out of consciousness, bleeding on and off from the wound in his chest.

He dreamed of Martin aging and decaying while Jon tried to untangle a net of cords and tubes that ran all around and through him, weaving under and over his skin. He tore at them, screaming, trying to free himself, but by the time he had pulled himself loose, he was too late and Martin was nothing but bleached white bones.

He dreamed of Martin in chains, dragging Jon behind him in a coffin, weeping, hands chafed and bleeding. He dreamed of the moments in the tower before the Fears were freed, only he was holding the knife, and Martin was pleading for his life, but Jon had no control over his limbs, and he had to watch himself plunge the knife into Martin’s chest. Martin disappeared into a cloud of red mist, lost to the Lonely and the End.

When he was awake enough to know it, Martin’s tired face and worried eyes weren’t much comfort, and blended with the nightmares so smoothly that he wasn’t sure which moments were real.

Martin staring at him with love, with sorrow, with anger. Martin napping, slumped back against the chair, glasses askew. Martin talking quietly to him. Promising him everything would be fine sometimes. Others, admitting tiredly that he didn’t know how much longer he could do this, or accusing Jon of ruining his life, wishing they’d never met.

Jon was too weak to move, to speak, to do anything. And even if he had been, what would he do? This situation had never been under his control.

And in the end, there was no way to save Martin from this new, inevitable horror—that there really was no coming back from the things they'd been through.

Chapter Text

Martin started awake when someone shook his shoulder. “Wha…” He nearly fell off the chair as he stared blearily around the hospital room.

Had something happened? Was Jon okay?

Yes, he was still lying on the hospital bed. He was on a respirator now, in addition to the feeding tube, because he wasn’t breathing so well anymore. It had been more than a week since the last time he’d shown any signs of consciousness.

Martin looked over to see who had woken him, and froze. Was he… was he dreaming?

“He looks terrible,” Brianna said. “How long were we gone?”

“Did you bring…?”

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “Barrels of the stuff.”

“Good,” Martin heaved a long sigh of relief. He felt tears well up in his eyes. “We had four days of alphabet soup left, even trying to stretch it out…”

“Oh, god,” Brianna said, then glanced over her shoulder, muttering something about the Doctor. “Okay,” she said to Martin. “I’ll go get some if you want to wake Dr. Hale.”

“Yeah,” Martin said, and took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Brianna said and rushed off.

Martin went out to the hall and asked them to call Dr. Hale. Then he returned to Jon’s room and took his comatose boyfriend’s limp hand in his own.

“Just a bit longer,” he promised. “We’ll get you up again soon. You made it.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, but couldn’t say anything more. He had started to really worry. The clock had been ticking down and this felt different, somehow, like Jon might really be dying.

Dr. Hale made it before Brianna came back. He checked Jon’s condition, made notes on his clipboard, then addressed Martin. “You said the Doctor is back?”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Brianna said they brought more of the liquid stories. She’s bringing some.”

“Good.”

“We… cut that pretty close.”

“I’ll say,” Dr. Hale agreed. “We…” he trailed off as the door opened to reveal a 20 gallon water jug full of swirling, pearly liquid. The unfamiliar young man carrying it maneuvered it carefully through the door as if it weighed literally nothing. The Doctor and Brianna followed him in.

“Hey,” the newcomer said with a friendly smile and an American accent. “Where do you want this?”

“Uh…” Dr. Hale stared. “Oh, um… in here. Just put it down on the counter there… thank you.”

The young man set the huge jug down and the liquid sloshed heavily.

“How is he?” the Doctor asked.

“What’s wrong with him?” the young man took a step toward the hospital bed, staring at Jon with sympathetic curiosity.

Martin stepped in front of him. “Sorry, but who are you?”

“Oh,” the young man held out a hand. “I’m Steven. You’re, um… Martin, right? They told me about you.”

Martin hesitated, not exactly in a hurry to trust anyone that friendly. Especially since he was clearly not a normal kid—had had carried that huge container of alphabet soup like it was nothing.

He wilted a little at Martin’s expression and stuck his hands in his pockets instead. “I’m… I’m just here to help,” he said. “Really. In fact… That’s Jon, right?” He glanced around Martin. “I didn’t realize he was so sick… if you want, I could try to heal him.”

Martin blinked. “What?”

“No,” the Doctor said. “Not yet, at least.”

Martin rounded on the Doctor. “What?”

Steven frowned. “Why not? Wouldn’t that—?”

“It’s complicated,” the Doctor said, glancing at Martin. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”

“But—”

“Come on.” the Doctor shooed the young man toward the door. “So long as he’s not in immediate danger of dying, it’s better to wait.”

Martin caught Steven’s worried gaze as he was ushered out of the room.

He stared after them for a few seconds, then glanced down at Jon. “He won’t wake up for a bit, will he?”

“Probably a few days.” Dr. Hale was already unscrewing the lid on the alphabet soup.

“Okay,” Martin said. If the Doctor had brought someone back who could 'heal' Jon… “I… have to go.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Hale said. “Go give him a piece of your mind. I’ll keep Jon company until you can bring that kid back here.”

Martin hurried off after the Doctor.

Jon looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to place himself. He felt fully lucid, for the first time in… well, he wasn’t sure how long. What had happened? How much time had passed?

He glanced over to the IV stand, which had a fat IV bag hanging from it, full of thick, swirling liquid.

“There you are,” Martin’s voice said, and Jon looked over to find him sitting in his customary chair, smiling. “They said you’d probably wake up today.”

Smiling. Smiling, not in chains, not decaying to bones.

Jon struggled to sit up.

“Whoa,” Martin said. “Be careful.”

Jon’s head spun, but he managed to push himself to a sitting position. He reached out, and Martin half-stood to hug him. He buried his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder, trembling, not caring that the feeding tube was pressing against the side of his face.

He didn’t let go until Martin finally pulled away, and then he carefully let himself back down, sorry for the tears on Martin’s face.

“I… take it the Doctor returned?”

“Yeah,” Martin sniffed.

Jon reached up to brush a tear off his boyfriend’s cheek. “My Martin,” he said. “I….” He wished he knew how to apologize in a way that meant something.

Martin caught his hand. “I love you. I'm glad you're awake.”

Jon thought of his nightmares. “You know I would… I would go back and… stop you from ever even applying for that job at the Institute, if I could. Even if it meant never meeting you, so long as it… stopped you from getting tied up in all of this.”

“Never say that,” Martin said. “I wouldn’t change it.”

Jon looked away.

“And do you really think I’d be better off? You think you’d have made it through the apocalypse without me, do you? Do you think anyone in our universe would have survived?”

That was a good point. “I suppose not,” he said, and looked back at Martin. “I guess you did save the universe after all.”

“By dooming at least two others,” Martin shook his head. “Uh… how are you feeling?”

“Glad to be back,” Jon said. “Did the Doctor find his ‘kind gods?’”

Martin frowned. “Well… sort of?” he said. “I’m not sure if any of them are actually… gods. One or two might be. Mostly they seem more like the Doctor. Just, you know, people who stick their noses into other people’s problems and try to help out. Some of them are definitely magic, even more than the Doctor is. There’s these guys who appear and disappear out of another dimension, and a giant robot man, and some sort of wizardy people. I haven’t really talked to them much. I don’t even know most of their names.”

Jon nodded. “Do you think… they’ll be able to stop the Fears?”

“I don’t know,” Martin said. “I sort of think they’re still relying on us for that, as if we can do anything!” He scowled. “And the worst part,” he added. “Is that at least two of them have volunteered to try and magically heal you, and the Doctor won’t let them.”

Jon frowned.

“Seems to think you’ll be more ‘useful’ like this.” he gestured in Jon’s general direction. “I thought we decided using you as bait was a bad idea, after what happened with the black hole plan.”

Well… as much as Jon regretted agreeing to that plan, it had proven that using him as bait worked. If there as anything—anything at all—that he could do to help, he wanted to. But… if some of these people the Doctor had found had magical healing powers…

Could they repair the damage that the Eye had done to him? Could he be human again? Fully, truly human?

“Jon?”

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“You had a… distant look on your face.”

“It’s nothing. Can I meet them? The Doctor’s...the people he's found?”

“Tomorrow,” Martin said. “They’ve been having meetings pretty much non stop since getting here, and we knew you’d probably wake up today, so we’re invited to the one tomorrow.”

Jon nodded. “Good,” he said. “It’s… has anything concerning happened on the station since I’ve been… I told Director Garrison what to watch out for—I still think the Fears are… infiltrating somehow.”

“Uh, no, nothing’s happened,” Martin said. “Someone did go missing for a few hours and everyone was freaking out, but it turned out to be nothing out of the ordinary. There were a few minor incidents on the observation deck, which I also think are probably just… well, anyone could take a funny turn while looking at that thing.”

“Okay,” Jon said.

“Why do you ask? Just… general paranoia, or…”

“I dreamed about the Web,” Jon said. “And the End, and the Eye. And… I don’t know. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised they can still affect me. The Doctor did warn me I’m particularly vulnerable to that sort of thing.”

“Or it could have just been regular nightmares,” Martin suggested.

“It could be,” Jon said. “I just… want to be cautious. Don’t look at me like that.”

“You are paranoid.”

“I am justifiably worried.”

“If the Fears can find us here, why haven’t they attacked? They’ve proven they can climb back out of the black hole, so why not come after us and kill us before we can come up with a plan to stop them?”

It was a good point, but… the Web was dominant. This could be some game, some twisted puppet show. It was possible that everything the were doing still served the Web. It was possible this was all part of the plan as the Mother of Puppets lured potential threats into one place, setting them up for destruction, waiting for the right moment to ensnare them…

“Jon? Really, I think we’re safe. We’ve been here for like two months, and nothing’s happened. Hey. Look at me.”

Jon turned.

“We’re safe,” Martin said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Jon said.

“And we’ve got like a three year supply of alphabet soup and the only shitty thing in here is that the Doctor won’t let anyone heal you.”

“Okay,” Jon said. “...thank you.”

“Anytime,” Martin said, smiling in a comforting way.

Jon tried very hard to let it comfort him.

Martin pushed Jon in the wheelchair to the storage room with the TARDIS which had become a sort of command center for the Doctor’s people. They’d dragged a bigger table in there, and held meetings and conversations there. As far as Martin knew, the giant robot was living there, for the time being. There was no way it—he?—would fit through the doors.

Jon had been unusually quiet all morning. He’d almost looked nervous, which suspicion was confirmed as Martin rolled him down the hall. His knuckles gripped the IV stand tightly and he hunched forward slightly.

Martin maneuvered the chair into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. “Jon?” he said as they started down.

“Hm?”

“We don’t have to go to this meeting, you know. We could just… I don’t know, ride all the way down to the ground floor and go hang out with the cows again.”

Jon smiled.

“Well?”

The elevator stopped. The doors opened.

“Jon?”

“We should go to the meeting.”

“You sure?”

Jon sighed. “Yes. Cows after, maybe.”

“Okay,” Martin said, and pushed him out into the hall. “You know, it’s not really like you to be shy. Introverted maybe, but not… is something wrong?”

“No… maybe,” Jon shook his head. “It’s just that… these people… whether they’re gods or not, I presume they’ve had a positive impact in their home universes…”

Oh, right. “Jon, you’re not… You did the best you could.”

“And the best I could was a ritual that started the apocalypse, and then after that, I unleashed the Fears on other unsuspecting universes. It doesn’t matter if I… I’m the reason for all of this trouble.”

“They’re not going to blame you.”

“That’s almost worse,” Jon said. “What do I say? No apology would be enough, but—”

“Yeah,” Martin stopped pushing the wheelchair. “Because you don’t need to apologize for things that were out of your control.”

Jon didn’t look convinced.

“Jon, I know you wouldn’t have done all that on purpose.”

“No,” Jon said. “Never.”

“And they know that too. Besides, they’re not… well, I wouldn’t exactly call them ordinary people, but they’re not that different from… the Doctor. And us. Okay? They’re not perfect either. I bet all of them have regrets too, or people they couldn’t save. So just… don’t stress it.”

“Okay.” Jon took a deep breath and winced. “I’ll try.”

Martin worried about that wince. Was Jon hurting? The knife wound had closed up, but maybe there was still internal damage somehow. He didn’t know.

He pushed the wheelchair to the storage room, where everyone was waiting, and felt all eyes on him and Jon as they approached the table.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling awkward. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Not at all,” the Doctor said from the center of the table. There were two chairs for them, opposite the Doctor and Brianna. A tall, dark-haired man wearing some sort of medieval getup pulled one of the chairs away so Martin could push the wheelchair up to the table.

Martin sat next to Jon, self-conscious of the squeak of the chair legs against the smooth floor as he scooted forward. There were twelve of them all together, including Jon and Martin. Martin didn’t know many names other than Steven, who waved at him cheerfully.

“Now that we’re all here,” the Doctor said. “And we’ve all taken a good look at what we’re dealing with, it’s time to work on our plan of attack.”

Brianna leaned across the table. “This is Jon, by the way,” she said. “And Martin. Jon and Martin, this is our coalition of kind gods.”

“We are not gods.” A gaunt man who looked almost translucent said, with a disapproving frown. His accent sounded sort of German.

“Well…” A dark haired woman with a gray streak through her hair glanced over at the blond teenage boy sitting next to her. “Most of us aren’t.”

The blond kid looked sweetly embarrassed, and there was a good deal of glancing back and forth awkwardly. “Don’t look at me, I’m basically nobody,” a woman with a frizzy reddish braid said, and the giant orange and white robot adjusted his… glasses? Why would a robot need glasses?

“Should we… go around and do introductions?” Brianna suggested.

“Should we?” the German guy steepled his bony fingers. “His psyche has a gaping hold in it—the result of his connection to these Fears we are attempting to dispel. Are we sure it is safe to discuss plans around him? Or even share information about ourselves?”

“I still think we should heal him,” Steven suggested. “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

The room erupted into chatter with people voicing their opinion on the matter. Martin looked over to see his boyfriend staring down at the table. He could have been lost in thought if it wasn’t for the tension in his jaw.

The Doctor finally got everyone settled down again. “Who can see on the metaphysical plane?”

A few hesitant hands went up.

“Can anyone see a connection to the Fears in him?” the Doctor said. “A current one?”

“I can,” the German man said. “But it’s faint, residual... Inactive.”

“He looks fine to me,” the medieval guy sitting next to them said. “Just a bit unraveled.”

“I don’t believe he’ll compromise us,” the blond young man looked less embarrassed and somehow older all of a sudden. “But I have to point out that’s not the only reason to heal him.”

“I agree,” the giant robot said. “What purpose does his continued suffering serve? Unless we plan to use him to bait the Fears, which has its own ethical problems.”

At least some of these people weren’t heartless. Martin glared at the Doctor.

“I don’t like it,” the Doctor said. “But until we have a solid plan that doesn’t involve Jon, we shouldn’t risk repairing him.”

“Yeah?” Martin said. “Well, why don’t you teleport outside and get your own connection to the Fears? See how you like using yourself as bait. Or is your life too important to risk?”

The Doctor glared back at him, but several people around the table nodded approvingly.

“And all of you,” Martin said. “You can stop talking about Jon like he’s not here.”

“Martin…” Jon said softly, but he wasn’t done yet.

“Some heroes you are,” he continued. “Does he not have a say in this? Is that how we solve our problems? By forcing people to—”

“Martin,” Jon put a hand on his arm.

Martin stopped reluctantly, but kept glaring at the Doctor.

“I suppose that’s a fair point,” the Doctor said. “What do you think, Jon?”

Jon was quiet for a moment. Then he took in a deep breath. “Do I get a choice?” he asked, and Martin turned to see him staring the Doctor down. “If I say I want to be healed, will you forbid it?”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

“He can’t,” the blond kid said. “This may be his home universe, but if we agree to heal you, I don’t think he’s powerful enough to stop us.”

“Martin’s right,” the guy sitting next to the gaunt German said. “It should be Jon’s decision.”

The whole room was looking at them. Martin watched Jon’s face anxiously, knowing the guilt he felt.

Knowing what his answer would be.

“I…” He said, glanced at Martin, turned away. “I think we should wait. Once we’ve stopped the Fears… then I’d be very grateful, but the Doctor is right. If there’s a chance that I might be instrumental in their destruction… I’ll stay as I am for now.”

Disappointed, but not surprised, Martin looked around the table and was irritated to see that they were mostly looking at Jon with approval, even admiration in some cases.

Martin supposed it was a noble sentiment. And maybe he was just being selfish. Maybe he should be proud of Jon’s willingness to sacrifice himself, but it was just so…

So unhealthy. So wrapped up in Jon’s guilt—his unhappiness—his residual unhealed injuries and trauma...

But Martin couldn’t very well turn around and say Jon shouldn’t be trusted to make this decision, after making a big deal about it being his choice. The Doctor had won this one.

He had to say something, though. “That’s his decision, then,” He tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “And I’ll respect it. But if there’s any other way to stop these things… please, he’s been through enough…” 

“If we can come up with some way to do this without using him as bait or putting him in danger, we will,” the Doctor said. “I promise.”

Martin nodded and sat back down, feeling a little bit embarrassed, and also still angry.

“Now,” the Doctor said. “Anyone have ideas? Questions for Jon and Martin? New thoughts about the Fears?”

“We can go back in time, right?” Steven said. “If it was weaker when it first moved from one universe to another, maybe we could go back in time and stop it then.”

“We can’t,” the Doctor said. “Next idea.”

“Why not?”

The German sighed and answered for the Doctor. “It would create a paradox. If we stop this entity in the past, then we’ll never even gather here in the first place. We must stop it in the present.”

Steven huffed a sigh and shook his head sadly. “Time paradoxes.”

Someone else piped up with an idea, but Martin didn’t care.

Jon wouldn’t look at him. That was almost more irritating than his refusal to be healed.

Brianna, apparently bored, got up and walked around the table. She dragged over the chair that they’d moved out of the way for Jon’s wheelchair, and the medieval guy scooted out of the way to give her space to sit.

“Hey,” she said. “They never introduced themselves. Do you want a run around the table?”

“Sure,” Jon whispered back.

“Next to where I was sitting, that’s Polgara, and Eriond is the young man with her. She’s a sorceress, and I think maybe his aunt, but he’s also like her patron god’s patron god or something like that. I don’t know how that works, and I’m scared to ask her to explain it—she’s kind of intimidating. Eriond is a sweet kid, though. Apparently just found out he’s a god like a day before we picked them up. On the Doctor’s other side, that’s Viktor, and Jayce. They also started an apocalypse, so don’t let them make you feel inferior no matter how smart they sound, they’re just as much idiots as you two. They’re um… sort of temporary manifestations or holograms or something—they spend most of their time on the metaphysical plane now, since their whole apocalypse thing might have… killed them? But not really? Again, it’s confusing. The ginger is Sophie. We tried to get this powerful witch from a different universe, but she just laughed at us, and told us to go away, and the TARDIS took us to Sophie’s universe right after, and we recruited her instead. That other kid is Steven. And the robot guy is called Rung. We need to introduce you and Martin to him at the end of the meeting. And this…” she tilted her head toward the medieval guy, who leaned forward to look at them.

“Mendanbar,” he said.

“He’s a king of… some magic forest.”

“Enchanted forest,” Mendanbar corrected. “Did you two come from a place where they have…” he waved his hand around. “Space stations like this? The magic here is very odd.”

“Uh…” Jon said. “No, not really. We weren’t this advanced. But I don’t think there’s magic, exactly. It’s called electricity.”

Mendanbar looked offended. “I was one of the earliest additions to the team,” he said. “I can tell the difference between magic and electricity, thank you. There’s magic here too.”

Jon frowned. Martin privately wondered if King Mendanbar had a few loose screws.

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me,” Brianna said. “Science certainly can’t explain this place. Anyway, that’s everyone, I think.”

“Thank you,” Jon said. “I… there was a time I wouldn’t have needed you to tell me any of that.”

“Yeah,” Brianna tilted her head to the side. “That’s creepy.”

Jon looked down.

The meeting continued. Steven had a variety of ideas that were non-starters from trying to reason with the Web, to rescuing everyone and relocating them to the future after the Fears were safely defeated. He seemed to have a hard time understanding the scale of things. Viktor had a lot of in-depth technical questions for Jon and Martin about the Fears. Polgara also asked a few questions. The others mostly shot down each others’ ideas. The Doctor was quiet, thinking, listening to everyone.

Eventually, Polgara suggested they call it for the day, and several others agreed with her.

The committee dispersed and Brianna insisted they go over and talk to the giant robot, who hadn’t contributed much to the meeting. Honestly, Martin had almost forgotten he was there, which was strange since he was so big.

“We didn’t exactly pick where to go,” Brianna said. “Just sort of let the TARDIS guide us. And apparently it agrees with me about one thing. Other than being a giant robot, the only thing we know of that’s special about this guy is he’s a therapist. Hey, Rung!”

“Hello, Brianna,” the robot said with a friendly smile. 

Brianna gestured to Jon and Martin. “Brought you your patients.” she said.

He nodded. “It’s good to meet you,” he said. “In fact, I’m wondering if we can talk privately for a few minutes?”

“Uh…” Martin looked around. “Can you fit through the door?”

“Oh, let me show you.” the giant robot couldn’t stand up, but he crawled over to the wall, where he pulled a large panel away.

“They had a door made for me, so I can have an office,” he said, and set it to the side, then crawled through into the adjacent storage room, which was significantly more cluttered, but Rung managed to maneuver into a sitting position without knocking anything over.

“Jon first, if that’s alright,” he said.

Martin hesitated. Nothing felt Stranger-ey about Rung. In fact, his motions and the inflection in his voice were so much like a person that you could forget he was all metal and electricity, but... you couldn't be too careful. 

"Come on," Brianna said. 

Martin looked down at Jon, who nodded. "It's fine."

So he reluctantly rolled Jon’s wheelchair to the hole in the wall. But there was a lip, and he couldn’t push the chair over it.

“Oh, let me.” the giant robot reached through and picked up the wheelchair with one hand. Martin held his breath and he could see Jon gripping the arms of the chair tightly, but Rung set him down gently and Jon offered Martin a reassuring smile before Rung pulled the wall panel back into place.

“So,” Rung said when the door had become part of the wall again. “I’ve heard a few things about you, but I’m glad to be talking to you, finally.”

“Um… thanks?” Jon wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never agreed to this therapy thing. He’d honestly thought it was a joke, but apparently Brianna had been serious.

“As I think I heard Brianna tell you, they recruited me as a therapist. I was as baffled as they were about why the TARDIS showed up in my office, but I couldn’t turn them down. I… once I understood the situation I wanted to help.”

“You normally treat other… robot people, I presume?”

Rung blinked. "Interesting..."

"What?" 

"Well, when most of the others met me they made the assumption I was built by humans. They didn't automatically jump to the idea that I come from a race of inorganic beings, though that's the case, and I think it makes the most sense anyway."

Jon shook his head. Had Brianna mentioned it? Had Martin said something?

"Is everything alright?" 

"It's just... it's not a good sign for me to know things without being told." 

"That's right," Rung said calmly. "Has that been happening a lot? I don't understand the situation entirely, but it sounds like that's to be expected, at least to some extent, right?. If you still have a weak connection?" 

Jon breathed in deeply, ignoring the lance of pain in his chest. "I... suppose."

“To answer your question,” Rung said. “Yes, I normally treat other Cybertronians, though I have studied human psychology and therapy a bit and the principles are largely the same. We live longer than you do, though, so we… well, we have more time in which both trauma and healing can happen. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help you in the short time we’ll both be here.”

“A good point,” Jon said quickly, already wanting the conversation to be over. “I don’t know that I really need therapy anyway.”

“No?” Rung said. “Are you certain about that? You’re happy? Nothing you’ve experienced troubles you?”

“Happy?” Jon swallowed. “I don’t know how I… I don’t know that I should be, given everything. I… but therapy can’t help with that. It won’t change the fact that quadrillions of people are suffering right now as a result of my actions and choices.”

Rung nodded. “Let’s say we destroy the Fears tomorrow. Everything goes back to normal, everyone is saved. That would fix it all? You’d feel better?”

“I…” Jon wasn’t sure.

Actually…

“No,” he admitted. “The memories, and… some things can’t be undone. There were so many who died because of me—people I knew in my old world, people in the universes I’ve never been to. I’ll think about them the rest of my life. Even if… Steven or whatever his name is can reverse what the Eye made me into, I’m still too damaged.”

He thought of Martin, of that stubborn hope that maybe they could make a life together and put all this behind them. But would they really be able to? Or would Jon always be pretending—like their picnic out in the fields, where every happy moment was quickly tainted by the memory of what had happened to Noah. What had happened to everyone he’d ever dared try to protect.

He’d never been prepared enough, hadn’t cared enough, hadn’t known enough, hadn’t been brave enough.

Could he do that his whole life? Could he pretend he was happy? Surely Martin would see through it. Surely he’d make Martin miserable too.

“I’m curious to know what made you take all of those tragic deaths onto your shoulders,” Rung said. “From what I’ve heard of your story it sounds like you did your best to prevent them.”

Jon sighed. “Is it really better if I was helpless?” he said. “If I could do nothing but watch? What are my options? I either foolishly doomed two universes and put a third in jeopardy, or I was a puppet—led along by the Fears with no choice in the matter.”

Rung seemed to think about it. “I don’t know,” he said at length.

“I won’t deny I…” Jon sighed. “I’m probably damaged in every way a person possibly can be. But… I just don’t think therapy would help. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a cure-all,” Rung agreed. “And it would take time and effort and your willingness and determination to heal. And I’m sure that it would be more helpful if we weren’t under siege by the incarnations of Fear. But… I wouldn’t write it off entirely. In fact, I strongly encourage you to seek out a good human therapist when this is all over.”

Jon looked down.

“For now, though I won’t be able to work with you long, I do want you to consider me a resource. And unless you’re busy elsewhere, I’d like to meet with you regularly, at least to check in. And, of course, I’ll be here any time you need someone to talk to. I’m here to listen—to help you work through whatever happens as we try to stop the Fears. Maybe even to help you start processing everything that’s happened in the past.”

Jon sighed.

“If you really aren’t comfortable with that, I won’t try to force you to work with me, but I think it might be important, all things considered.”

Jon hesitated. “I… suppose it can’t hurt.”

Rung nodded.

He shook his head. “Or maybe it can. I don’t want to think about…”

Never being happy again.

“Again, I’m not going to force you to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Rung said. “Or even meet with me.”

Jon didn’t want to meet with him. But… “If the TARDIS specifically sought you out… Brianna said you don’t have any… special abilities?”

“No,” Rung said. “I’m afraid not.”

That seemed… so strange. Even if the TARDIS went out of its way to find a therapist… why not a human one? Why was this one special? “I’ll… I’ll meet with you. Martin and Brianna will probably both insist anyway.”

“Alright,” Rung said. "Well, today before I let you go, is there anything you’d like me to know about you?”

Jon wasn’t sure. Talking about himself had never been comfortable. He shook his head.

“I know you’ve been through quite a few traumatic events.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that—not now, at least.”

An uncomfortable silence fell.

“Is there anything right now that’s particularly bothering you? Anything that you’d like to focus on next time we talk, so we can be prepared for that conversation?”

He had watched an entire world burn and break and suffer, and there had been a part of him that had fed on all that suffering. There had been nothing he could do about it, and no one who could understand.

He… wasn’t human—not anymore—and even if he had been, even if Steven could heal him, some part of him would always be afraid that he was still a monster.

“Jon?”

“No,” he said. “I… I can’t think of anything.”

Rung looked thoughtful. “Is there… anything you want to talk about at all? Any questions you have for me, or… topics you want to discuss? Or even topics you’d like to particularly avoid?”

“I—I don’t think so.”

“Not your apocalypse?”

“No.”

“I wonder how different your Earth is from the one in my universe.”

“Well, there at the end for a while I’m sure it was very different. But I… don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you leave family behind there?”

“No,” Jon said. “And I don’t want to… we are not talking about my childhood.”

“Hmm… what about… Martin? Tell me about Martin. You two are a couple, yes?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Martin…” he could talk about Martin. “Martin is amazing. A hundred times over, I wouldn’t be here without him. I wouldn’t have made it through the apocalypse—I wouldn’t have had a reason to.”

Rung smiled a little. “What’s amazing about him?”

“Everything,” Jon said. “He’s kind to anyone, optimistic in the face of literal hell… he cared about me, even when… even when I was horrible to him. He’s brave, and stubborn, and talented, and I’ll never understand why he loves me, but somehow… somehow he does. I… should I continue? I could go on.”

“If you like,” Rung said. “I’m glad there’s something you’re happy to talk about.”

“And you… you won’t… anything I say to you is confidential, yes?”

“Absolutely confidential,” Rung said. “I take that very seriously.”

“So,” Jayce said. “Martin, right?”

“Uh, yes?” Martin said as the well-built man with the American accent wandered over. Martin wasn’t quite sure what to make of this person. There was something casually, ignorantly arrogant about him.

“We kind of have matching… uh, friends?” Jayce said. “I noticed. Jon, right? He’s kind of…”

“Yeah.” Martin glanced over at Viktor, who was deep in a conversation with Brianna, probably about science. “I… see that.”

“Yes,” Jayce said. “Even the whole… had to stop Viktor from causing an apocalypse.”

“Ha. I wish I could have stopped Jon,” Martin said. “And I don’t know, maybe I would have been able to, but I went on an ill-timed walk.”

Jayce shook his head, grinning. “That’s unfortunate.”

“It is,” Martin said. “So how did you stop Viktor?”

“It was complicated. We sort of had a war He was winning—he gets so focused, you know. Sometimes I think he misses the bigger picture because of it. But I met him on the metaphysical plane and managed to get through to him before he killed everyone.”

“Heh,” Martin said. “At least you didn’t have to stab him.”

“Oh, I did do that… well, sort of. I shot him with this corrupted hammer gun.”

“Hammer… gun.”

“I invented it myself.”

“Ah...huh…”

“Anyway, I was trying to kill him at the time. Sort of. I had promised like another version of him that I would stop him, so I didn’t see any other options. I’m glad it worked out the way it did, though. We just kind of… live on another plane now, most of the time. I… do sort of miss having a physical lab—most of the science we can do now is theoretical. But hey, Viktor’s happy-ish? I think? And I’m not too upset. It could have gone a lot worse, and it’s freeing to just… not care what other people think because he’s the only other person around.”

“Huh,” Martin said. “Does it get lonely?”

“Not really?” Jayce said. “I think… we’re different too. Not quite human anymore. Not quite people. Like we still have emotions, but they’re less tied to our circumstances.”

“Hm,” Martin said. “Sounds kind of sad, honestly.”

“Well… like I said, it could have gone a lot worse. At least we managed to deal with our apocalypse.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Hey, it’s not really your fault.”

“No,” Martin said. “It’s not my fault my boyfriend was a successful apocalypse starter.”

“Oh, okay,” Jayce grinned good-naturedly. “At least Viktor was doing it on purpose.”

“But that’s not really a flex, is it?”

“Well, he wasn’t evil exactly, just… like I said, a little too focused on… solving every problem with society, which it turns out you can’t do without well… killing all the people.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jayce said. “Anyway, you two are boyfriends?”

“Yes,” Martin said. “Are you two… not?” Maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but the way the two of them looked at each other…

“Um…” Jayce said. “I… we never really discussed that. I… actually never really thought about that possibility. We’re like, lab partners and best friends, but I was… sort of dating this councilwoman…”

Martin frowned. “But you… gave your whole life up to live eternally with him on the astral plane?”

“Yes,” Jayce said. “And I’d do it again.”

“But you’re… not a couple?”

“I don’t know what we are,” Jayce said. “Soulmates, maybe. Finding each other in every relevant universe. I’d rather spend eternity with him than anyone else.”

“Well… that’s cool, I guess,” Martin said. “Platonic soulmates?”

Jayce looked troubled.

“Unless you do fancy him… in more of a romantic way?”

“I never thought about it,” Jayce said.

“Has he ever said how he feels about you?”

“Uh… we’ve never talked about it.”

Martin looked over and caught Viktor watching them curiously. “Well,” he said. “At least Jon and I communicate with each other… sort of… when I can get Jon to communicate.”

“Maybe… maybe we should talk about it,” Jayce mused, making it sound like this was the most profound idea he’d ever had.

“Yeah, maybe you should.” Martin deadpanned.

“Excuse me,” Jayce said, and hurried off to break up Brianna’s conversation with Viktor.

Martin sighed and glanced back at the wall. What was taking so long? Had that robot therapist actually gotten Jon to open up about his feelings?

That was sort of unfair. It generally took Martin ages to get Jon to admit he even had feelings, much less what they were.

When he looked back over, he saw Viktor had excused himself with Brianna and was talking to Jayce, wearing an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

Martin wished them luck with that.

Brianna saw him looking and came wandering over.

“Had fun talking to your spiritual twin?”

Martin snorted. “I guess. He’s a bit…”

“Of an idiot?” Brianna said.

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that.”

“He’s a little strange too. Both of them are. Though Viktor’s kind of fun to talk to. I… probably shouldn’t be teaching him about theoretical physics or quantum mechanics and nuclear radiation and all that. The Doctor gets on my case about messing with the flow of discovery, especially when we go to earlier periods of Earth history. But I figure it’s fine—he’s not really interacting with people on his planet anymore, and he had a lot of it figured out already, especially since being bound to the—oh, there they go.”

Jayce and Viktor had vanished without a trace, ostensibly to have a private conversation on another plane of existence. Martin shook his head. “You know Jayce didn’t even think they were dating.”

“Aw,” Brianna said, clearly disappointed. “Did you tell him? It was funny.”

“You’re horrible,” Martin said.

Some of the others had left. Sophie was weaving a flower crown out of the cheerful yellow fear-blocking flowers, chatting with Polgara. Eriond and Steven were still at the table, having an animated conversation about their adventures in their respective universes. The Doctor had retreated to the TARDIS. King Mendanbar was standing by the wall, squinting up at the ceiling suspiciously.

“So,” Martin said. “The universe’s greatest heroes.”

“Hardly,” Brianna smirked. “Just a few of the ones who use methods other than violence to solve their problems. The gentle ones. The clever ones. The quiet ones who you don’t think are all that powerful until they’re bending reality into knots. Like Sophie over there with those flower crowns. If we wanted to use the flowers before, we’d have to hold one to our noses and hope a gust of wind didn’t carry the scent off for a millisecond. But she says she can alter their effect so just wearing a crown will completely hide you from the Fears. She says it’ll work on the whole TARDIS, and a lot better than our makeshift one did. Honestly, if Steven’s healing only fixes Jon’s physical injuries, Sophie could probably take care of the metaphysical ones with some time. She just... wills things to do exactly what she wants. Though she did mention she has a particular knack for hats.”

Martin nodded, not quite following all that.

“And Viktor and Jayce… may be idiots, but they’re also geniuses. And King Mendanbar can sense anything supernatural with extreme precision, and understand it. Eriond is a literal god, and Polgara’s basically an immortal, all-powerful sorceress. Don’t get me started on—”

The wall opened and Martin turned to see the giant robot lift Jon’s wheelchair and set it back down next to him. He looked at Jon’s face closely, but couldn’t read his expression.

“Your turn, I guess,” he said. “I… do you want me to wait?”

Martin looked around—a lot of the others were looking at them, and Jon watched them nervously.

“Brianna, could you wheel him back to the apartment?” Martin asked.

“Sure,” she said.

“If that’s what you want?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Thank you. I’m feeling tired, and not very social.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

“I love you.”

“You too.”

Martin watched him go then stepped through the wall into the giant robot therapist’s makeshift office, on this space station in a black hole, wondering how much more improbable his life could get.

Martin was much more open to talking than Jon, but Rung was at least as concerned about him as their conversation played out. Rung was relatively sure Jon had been honest with him, except when he’d claimed there was nothing bothering him. Martin was friendlier, more cheerful, seemingly better-adjusted. But he’d been through so much, especially for a human, that his affect was probably a carefully-constructed mask.

There were signs, moments when it slipped a bit. He’d started off asking about what Jon had said. He’d made a comment about his boyfriend being emotionally closed off, and while he’d tried to hide it, the idea that Jon would open up to anyone but him seemed to offend him.

He also had a similar list of things he wasn’t ready to talk about. But instead of outright refusing, he would quickly and expertly change the subject whenever Rung tried to steer them toward things like his role in the exodus of the Fears from his home universe, the friends they’d left behind, or his own experiences with the Fears.

In addition, Martin seemed to have a hard time articulating his feelings about the former archivist of the Magnus Institute. Unlike Jon, who only had positive things to say about Martin, Martin seemed unsure whether he even thought Jon was a good person. He would bring up things that had happened, things that Jon had done, and then defend him, saying he hadn’t meant any harm, and had never wanted to hurt or kill anyone, except maybe some other Fear avatars, but they’d deserved it.

He also expressed his frustration about the situation—the way the Doctor was putting Jon at risk—the way Jon was willing to go along with it. Martin didn’t think Jon should be making that decision, or taking responsibility for all of this, when it wasn’t really his fault—when he was just trying to soothe his guilty conscience.

It was unclear what exactly Martin wanted Jon to do instead. Because it almost sounded like he did blame Jon for at least some of what had happened—like he wanted Jon to be guilty so he had a reason to defend the man—to be the only one who understood him—the only one who loved him in spite of his faults.

Perhaps Rung was reading too much into Martin’s words, but it was concerning anyway. It seemed decidedly unhealthy, born of some insecurity Rung would need time to root out. Again, he wished he had longer to work with these remarkable little humans who had gone through so much...

When Rung felt he had a good start getting to know Martin, he made plans to meet with both of them again, which he trusted Martin to relay to Jon.

“It was good to meet you,” Martin said. “And you know, I do feel better after talking through things a bit.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rung said, not quite believing him. “Before you go, though I do have one final question.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about you and Jon meeting with me together? In addition to private sessions, of course.”

“Oh, like couples therapy?” Martin said.

“Yes.”

“Um… I don’t know. I think we’re doing alright, you know, relationship-wise. We’re very happy with each other, and all that.”

“Oh,” Rung said. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you two were having trouble, I just think that, after everything you’ve been through together, it might be helpful. Couples therapy is a good way to boost the communication skills of even healthy partnerships.”

“Oh,” Martin said. “I’ll… I’ll probably have to talk Jon into it, but sure. Maybe we’ll give it a go…” He trailed off, frowning. “I do think… there are things he’s not telling me.” He looked worried for a moment.

Then the moment was gone.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll talk him into it. He needs as much therapy as he can get.”

“Good,” Rung said. “I agree.”

He opened the wall door for Martin to leave and then sat for a while, thinking about what he’d learned from both of them.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the initial meeting, and the heroes the Doctor had gathered still didn’t have a solid plan. They were trying, Jon knew, to come up with a plan that didn’t involve him, but the success of that was starting to seem unlikely. In fact, it felt like they were just wasting time while whole galaxies suffered and, while a selfish part of Jon still hoped they’d come up with something, he was starting to feel impatient.

Martin hadn't come to today's meeting, but Jon couldn't bring himself to skip it. They needed him there as a reference, as someone to remind them of the details, to talk them down from anything that would get them killed. All of these people were needed in their own universes, except perhaps Viktor and Jayce, and throwing themselves recklessly at the Fears wasn’t going to help anyone.

He couldn’t focus today, though. Tonight, he was supposed to have his first session of couples therapy with Martin.

And he was worried.

Rung was, perhaps, too good at his job. Jon had talked to him once more, and had said many things he really hadn’t intended to.

He felt sorrier and sorrier for the people he’d taken statements from. What if he said something that… well that he didn’t want to? Martin was rightfully upset about Jon putting himself in danger. And he’d been understandably worried when Jon had been… ill.

But there was so much more to be upset about. Like the fact that Jon might never fully return to his humanity, or the fear that things wouldn’t work out here—that these people would die too, that everyone around Jon just… died, no matter what he did to try and stop it.

Or the knife still buried in his chest, throbbing, spreading ice through his veins.

His paranoia that the Fears were here, subtly influencing everyone, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The plain fact that he didn’t deserve Martin. And that Martin didn’t understand him. The way they were now was working. It was fragile, but it was still working. While their relationship had felt rock solid, strong as steel, during the entire apocalypse, now…

Now there were cracks.

And he didn’t want Rung poking at them.

God, he really felt sorry for those statement givers.

“Jon?”

What? Everyone was looking at him. “Sorry,” he said. “I was lost in thought.”

“I said,” Viktor looked down his nose. “You acted like a conduit for the Fears, yes? They both empowered you and fed through you.”

“The Eye did, yes,” Jon said.

“Can… other types of power use you in the same way?”

The Doctor looked up, suddenly interested in the conversation. “It might be possible,” he said. “We were testing telepathy earlier.”

“Does anyone have power you can infuse into something?” Sophie said.

“It’s… probably not a good idea for me,” Viktor said. “I could do it, but my power leaves people… changed—and not necessarily for the better.”

“I have a limited amount of magic from home,” Mendanbar said. “I’m cut off from the forest. I have to conserve it.”

“I can try,” Eriond said, and got up from the table. “I think… I know what to do.”

“Be careful,” Polgara told him, and Jon scooted his chair out and turned it so he could face the young man.

Eriond stood in front of Jon, then frowned. “How is this going to help?” He glanced back at Viktor.

“It’s good to know what we can do,” Viktor said. “Attacking the Fears directly is not feasible. They are more powerful than we are. But the attempt to trap them in a black hole proves that we have some limited control over them, through Jon.”

Silence fell, and Jon looked down. So they were finally admitting it.

Without him, they didn’t even have anything they could try.

“Okay,” Eriond said. “I’m ready.”

“What should I do?” Jon asked.

“Um… stay sitting down. Give me your hands.”

Eriond took Jon’s scarred hands and shut his eyes. Jon’s breath caught as he felt it. A sort of warm, brightness inside of him. It soothed the knife wound for a moment, but then started to burn. He could feel hot pressure under his skin.

“You’re hurting him,” Steven said anxiously.

“Oh, sorry,” Eriond let go of his hands.

The feeling didn’t go away. Jon gritted his teeth, and clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop them shaking.

“Here, let me take that back,” Eriond touched his hands again and Jon screamed as the power was yanked out of him the wrong way, rubbing like sandpaper.

“Oh no!” Eriond said. “I’m sorry!”

“I told you to be careful,” Polgara chided.

“Jon?”

Jon groaned. “I’m okay,” he managed. “I think.”

“So,” Steven said. “I guess that’s a bust, right?”

Jon pressed his fingers to his aching chest, but it hadn’t started bleeding again.

“Right?” Steven said. “We can’t push power into him if it’s going to hurt him.”

“Did it hurt like that when the Watcher’s power flowed through you?” Viktor asked.

“No,” Jon said, managing to sit up straight again. “Not until the end, when I was trying to hold the Fears back from leaving our universe.”

“Here, I’m going to try something.” Sophie got up and joined them. She put her hands on his shoulders and muttered what sounded almost like a spell or a blessing over him. Something about being a strong vessel and capable of holding and transferring all kinds of power. The pain faded slowly, and after repeating herself a few times, Sophie backed off.

“I think that should do it,” she said breathlessly. “Wow, I don’t often feel this drained when I’m doing magic.”

“Eriond?” the Doctor said.

“Um…” Eriond looked hesitantly at Jon.

“Go ahead,” Jon said. “Just… be careful.”

Eriond nodded and took Jon’s hands again.

The power felt different this time—smoother, not so scalding. Still not the most pleasant sensation, but not painful anymore. Eriond paused every few seconds to ask if Jon was okay, and he nodded, until it got to be a little overwhelming again, and he pulled his hands free.

“I can see it,” Jayce said. “He’s glowing.”

Jon looked down at himself.

“Not on this plane,” Viktor told him. “It’s leaking out of him too, so the effects will eventually wear off. This is… interesting. The question is, can we use it somehow?”

“When we took Jon out to the black hole, the Fears re-connected with him, or at least tried to,” the Doctor said. “What happens if they do that while he’s full of some other opposing power?”

Viktor frowned. “It’s… risky,” he said. “If the powers do annihilate one another, that might hurt him, or even kill him.”

“We’ve tried attacking them directly,” the Doctor said. “But they’re hard to pin down. They don’t want to interact with anything that can’t fear them.”

“Is there a way we could test it risk-free?” Polgara asked.

“What do you think, Viktor?” the Doctor asked.

“I don’t know if there’s such a thing as risk-free,” Viktor said. “But maybe we could test it on a small scale. Is there anywhere the Fears are… less present? Somewhere we can see their effects, but where they don’t draw a great deal of power?”

The Doctor frowned. “I don’t know. I think they’re either there or they aren’t.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Not necessarily true,” he said. “Are there any planets with… well, only simple life forms? Enough of a brain to be afraid of a few things, maybe somewhere with bugs, or even small animals, but nothing particularly intelligent.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Fascinating,” Viktor said. “I suppose they would prey on anything that can fear, but if that fear is less complex…”

“Less food,” Jon said. “And less presence.”

“I’m sure we can find somewhere,” the Doctor said.

“It’s still a risk,” Polgara said “If Jon dies, then we’ll lose whatever influence we have over the Fears.”

“If it looks like he’s going to die, I could heal him,” Steven suggested.

“But that doesn’t solve the issue Polgara brought up,” Viktor said. “And how will you know at what point you’d need to step in?”

Steven crossed his arms. “I don’t think we should do this if there’s a chance Jon might die.”

“I…” Viktor looked reluctant. “I could keep him alive, if necessary. And I would be able to tell exactly how much I needed to do. And I don’t think it would interfere with his connection to the Fears.”

Jon frowned at him. “I don’t want to be a half-metal zombie.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “I can control it. But you would need to trust me.”

Jon shook his head slightly.

Silence fell.

“That is fair,” Viktor said, then sighed. “We will come up with something else.”

Jon crossed his arms, feeling guilty, and still bright and hot from Eriond’s power. It… did sort of feel like an opposite to the Fears. Or… more like one aspect of an opposing force. It was the antithesis of darkness; it was a flame that gave light and warmth without destruction.

“There has to be a way to test this safely,” the Doctor said.

“We don’t know enough about how the Fears will react to an opposing power,” Viktor said. “If they clash violently…”

“The TARDIS,” Jon said.

They all looked at him.

“Brianna implied it was choosing people intentionally. And… and Sophie was similar to someone who refused to help.”

“Yes,” the Doctor said.

“Does that mean the TARDIS has a plan? A certain set of power types that it was looking for?”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “In a way, I assume so. I can’t just ask her to explain her choices, though.”

“Well, we don’t have to ask, we just have to figure it out,” Jon said. “Someone else—someone else try to infuse me with power.”

“Do… you want me to try and take mine back?” Eriond asked.

“No,” Jon said. “I want to know how they interact with each other.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“I could,” Mendanbar said. “Though I can't give much.”

He mimed pulling something out of thin air and rolling it up, then dropped it into Jon’s outstretched hand. Jon felt it land, and absorb into his palm. It was a sort of cool, liquid sensation of clarity, of understanding.

He nodded. “Someone else.”

“I… don’t know if I can exactly… infuse people with power…” Steven said. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”

“It’ll be easy,” Eriond said. “There’s a sort of pull—it happens naturally.”

“Just don’t heal him.”

Steven frowned at the Doctor. “I know,” he said. “I won’t.” He came over and took Jon’s hand and his face tightened into an almost comical expression of concentration, eyes shut. “Is… it working?”

Jon shook his head.

Eriond went over and put a hand on Steven’s shoulder and Steven opened his eyes, and Jon felt something crystallize in his veins. He gasped and Steven pulled away.

“Are you okay?” he said, concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Jon?”

It should hurt. But it didn’t. The sharp edges didn’t cut. The hard, unbreakable planes were gentle, somehow. Almost… friendly.

Jon blinked. There was too much going on now. Too much power in him, clashing in his mind.

“Jon?”

“I’m okay,” Jon said. “What… what are you?”

Steven looked hurt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, look at me. I’m not—I’m one to talk... You don’t need to answer that question.”

“I’m… a diamond?” Steven said. “Though I don’t expect you to know what that means.”

Jon blinked. “Actually… I think that makes sense. Give me a minute…”

He tried to fit the powers together inside of him, to connect them somehow, but they were incongruous—too different to be unified.

“Do you want someone else to—”

“No,” Jon said. “No, I think I have as much as I can handle at the moment, thanks.”

“What are you attempting?” Viktor asked.

“I think the powers have to work together,” Jon said. “Or why would the TARDIS look for all of you specifically?”

Viktor nodded thoughtfully.

Jon went back to trying to fit the powers together. The others talked quietly, but he blocked them out, shutting his eyes, focusing inward.

“Look at that…”

“Where’s it going?”

“Jon?”

Something snaked around his ankle, and he jumped up out of the chair in alarm, but it was just… a strand of light. He traced it with his gaze, back to its source—the cracked TARDIS doors.

The powers inside of him knit together, interwoven by the TARDIS’s light.

“Yes,” he said. “This is… this is what she wants. Someone else.” He held out a hand.

Polgara went next, adding her silvery power. Free, but never lost. Grounded but never confined. Sophie followed. She snatched her hand away quickly, looking pale. Her power was subtle, persuading, supportive.

“You, now,” Jon reached out to Viktor.

Viktor looked uncertain. “My power is not… It is dangerous. I… my intention was to heal, but—”

“It’s not finished,” Jon said. “Who else are we missing?”

They looked at the Doctor.

He reached across the table to take Jon’s hand, but nothing happened. Eriond tried to help him, like he’d helped Steven, but still there was nothing.

“I guess whatever the TARDIS was looking for, I’m not compatible,” the Doctor said. “Viktor, you should try.”

Viktor looked down at his own hand. For a moment, Jon couldn’t tell if it was made of flesh, or some gleaming, supple metallic substance.

“The combined power’s not finished,” Jon said. “You overcame it, right? You stopped your apocalypse. You said you have control over it.”

Viktor looked up. Jon saw some of his own guilt reflected in the other man’s eyes, but also a determination to put things right.

“I trust you,” Jon said, trying to hide his nervousness.

Viktor reached across the table to take Jon’s hand. Jon tried not to flinch as he felt it slip through his veins. Viktor was right—his power was dangerous. It was too easy to heal what wasn’t broken, to smooth over rough edges until there was no texture left, to bring people together by erasing them, making them one collective.

But the TARDIS wove the power in seamlessly with the others.

It still felt incomplete but Jayce didn’t seem to have anything to contribute, and the Doctor still couldn’t do it either.

It was close, Jon thought.

Close enough.

He felt… a little strange, but whatever the TARDIS was doing, it seemed to make it easier to hold the power. It didn’t hurt, and it was a bit less disorienting, but he still… It was still a lot.

“I think…” he said. “I think we should test how this interacts with the Fears. I… I think I’m still connected to the Eye, just a little bit. And I haven’t felt anything… bad…. From that connection while doing this. So… it probably won’t… well, if it does, then Viktor can make sure I don’t die...”

“Are you sure?” Viktor said.

Jon nodded.

The Doctor got up from the table. “I’ll look for a suitable planet.”

Jon paced as they waited, full of nervous energy.

He… probably ought to let Martin know they were going off the station. But… would Martin argue about it? Would he say it was too dangerous? Would he insist on coming along and put himself in harm’s way?

He would certainly want details. He probably wouldn’t like the idea of the heroes filling him up with their power to use him as sort of a snare for the Fears.

But Jon didn’t want to be talked out of this. The more time went by, the more he felt like he was going to explode, like he’d eaten too much and was going to be sick. He needed to get rid of this churning, volatile thing inside of him, and unleashing it on the Fears seemed like it would be so satisfying.

Martin would be angry.

He’d be angrier if Jon went without telling him. Would he be more anxious if he knew?

The Doctor waved them all onto the TARDIS.

Jon hesitated. He… probably ought to tell Martin. After all, he’d promised…

“Jon?”

“I need to..." No. No, he didn't want to argue with martin right now. "...Fine I’m coming.”

They were coming back. Everything would be fine. This was what the TARDIS wanted, obviously, so it was the best plan they had. And they were just testing it on a small scale, unleashing this power on a planet the Fears would barely notice.

The control room was a little crowded with everyone there.

Well, not quite everyone. “Rung,” Jon said pensively. “We didn’t ask him to try to contribute to the powers.”

“Who?” Sophie asked.

“The giant robot,” Steven said. “He doesn’t have any magic powers. I asked him.”

“Flower crowns, everyone.” the Doctor opened a cooler that was filled with flower crowns Sophie had made over the last few days. She’d also woven a thick garland of them, which encircled the roof of the TARDIS.

“They might see me anyway,” Jon said as he accepted a crown.

“Don’t insult Sophie’s work,” the Doctor said. 

Jon put the garland on his head, thinking he probably looked silly.

The others donned theirs as well with a variety of attitudes. Polgara somehow looked even more regal with her crown of golden flowers. Sophie looked a bit self-conscious and kept brushing a loose, dangling stem off of her forehead. Steven and Eriond complimented each others’ hats jokingly. Viktor seemed at least as uncomfortable as Jon was, but Jayce wore it with a serious dignity.

Jon realized he felt more relaxed.

He understood this was dangerous, still. He knew Martin would be mad at him.

But the fear—the physical sensation—was ebbing away.

This was actually… kind of nice. These flower crowns were very nice.

By the time the Doctor announced that they had arrived, Jon wasn’t scared of anything.

“I’ll go first and make sure it’s safe,” the Doctor said.

“I’ll go too,” King Mendanbar said. “I want to get another look at these Fears.”

The two of them stepped out and looked around. The flower crown looked a little silly on the Doctor, but somehow very natural on the King of the Enchanted Forest.

They looked at each other and nodded and the Doctor waved everyone out.

Jon immediately recognized the hand of the Fears on this landscape. The ground shifted under his feet. The sky was alive with boiling clouds, obscuring the sun, and dark predatory shapes swooped above and lurked in the shade of every tilting boulder.

Small crab-like creatures scuttled at their feet.

Steven reached down and picked one up. “Cool,” he said.

“Put that down,” Polgara snapped when Eriond tried to grab one too.

Steven’s crab telescoped its little legs out to four times their original length and flailed around, and he set it down rather hastily.

Jon could tell the Fears were here… but he didn’t think they’d noticed him yet. The flower crown seemed to be doing its job.

“Anyone who can imbue Jon with power circle up,” the Doctor said. “Anyone else, back in the TARDIS. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Mendanbar was waving his hands, circling the air with them as if he were trying to trap a bubble of it. He scowled and walked back to the TARDIS. “I want to conserve my magic,” he said. “Is it alright if I don’t participate?”

the Doctor looked at Jon.

“It’s already incomplete,” Jon said. “I don’t think it will matter all that much.”

Mendanbar went back to the TARDIS, along with Jayce. The others gathered around.

“If he runs out,” the Doctor said. “Or if it doesn’t seem like enough, push more power through him.”

The five of them—Steven, Eriond, Polgara, Viktor, and Sophie—put their hands on Jon’s shoulders and arms. He didn’t like being touched, but bore the discomfort as the circle of garland-adorned heads came close together.

“Ready?” the Doctor asked.

Jon nodded, unafraid, forgetting to be nervous.

“Viktor?”

“I won’t let him die,” Viktor said calmly.

“Here we go,” the Doctor said, and took the flower crown from Jon’s head.

At first, nothing happened. The Doctor watched Jon carefully, but Jon just looked up at the sky.

Then Jayce gasped behind him, and there was a sudden rush of wind. The Doctor’s ears popped and the clouds burst with weeping eyes, raining hot liquid down, staring, bloodshot, at them.

“More!” Eriond said desperately. “It’s trying to take him back!”

Brilliant light suddenly burst all around them. It took a moment for the Doctor to realize that the clouds directly above them had broken, and there was a patch of blue among the angry purple-red.

“We’re doing something!” Steven cried.

“Keep going,” Polgara said. “Push it back!”

Jon gasped, eyes rolling back into his head, and the patch of blue expanded. The ground stabilized in a ring around them, growing spiky plants. The crab things stopped their frantic scurrying and reached up to the sky with long waving arms. The ring of clear sky and stable ground grew, faster, spreading out in all directions until the darkness was nearly out of sight.

“Chase them off!” Viktor said. “Keep going!”

Eriond shouted a pure war cry and the others took it up, shouting as they pushed their powers through the archivist. A wisp of light from the TARDIS joined them.

Then, everyone let go, cheering. Viktor caught Jon as he started to collapse, and helped him sit down. Sophie collapsed as well, landing on her backside with an indignant squeak, and Polgara leaned on the TARDIS, looking fatigued for a moment, but Steven and Eriond charged out into the rocky field with crab things scattering under their feet.

“We cleared the entire planet,” Viktor reported to the Doctor. “It’s free.”

The Doctor took in a deep, satisfied breath. He had started to wonder if there was no way to fight the Fears after all. This was progress. They had gained ground.

He crouched down on Jon’s other side.

Jon was still conscious, but looked dazed.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Jon said. “A little… dizzy.”

A winged creature swooped past, trilling a joyful song, and Polgara went out to join Eriond and Steven, removing her flower crown and tossing it out into the field, raising her arms to the clear sky.

The Doctor smiled, even as the thought of Noah shadowed his relief. He let it settle in with the rest of his grief. He turned to say something to Jon—something encouraging—something about being on the right track, but Jon had a horrified look on his face.

Interesting. That should probably be worrying, but really, everything was probably fine. Jon just wasn’t wearing…

The Doctor tore the flower crown off his own head and tossed it through the TARDIS doors. He needed urgency now.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“They’re coming,” Jon whispered. “They… they’re coming for us.”

“Back on the TARDIS!” the Doctor snapped. “Now! Inside now!!!”

Chapter Text

Martin ran into Brianna at the dining hall, and she waved for him to come sit by her.

“How are you?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Honestly?” Brianna said. “Tired of meetings where they just talk in circles.”

“Is today’s over already?”

“Don’t know. I didn’t go.”

Martin sighed. “Jon did. I think he feels obligated.” At least some of the others seemed to care if he lived or died, unlike the Doctor. But it still bothered Martin. Maybe they could bring it up when they met with Rung. The more time went on, the more he thought couples therapy was a good idea.

He chatted with Brianna over lunch, and then they decided to go check in on the meeting together. It was definitely time to suggest they stop for the day.

They were quietly gossiping about the members of the team when they stepped into the storage room that doubled as the headquarters for the heroes.

The table was empty.

And the TARDIS was gone.

Martin’s heart sank.

“Wonderful,” Brianna said flatly. “I should have known something was off. They’re normally finished by now.”

Martin shook his head. “Where would they go?”

“Nowhere good,” Brianna said, then huffed a sigh. “Okay, from now on, at least one of the two of us needs to be at every meeting.”

“From now on?” Martin said. “Right, if there even are any more meetings. They took Jon out there? What were they thinking?”

“Maybe that means they didn’t go anywhere dangerous?” Brianna suggested hopefully. "I mean... the TARDIS is... but he said he didn't want to take Jon off the station in case the Fears can find him even in the shielded TARDIS." 

“He didn't tell me," Martin said. "He didn't bother to tell me, so that probably means it’s extra dangerous. He’s a terrible liar, and he knows I’d see right through it if he was going to do something idiotic.”

Brianna crossed her arms. “Great. Well… I guess all we can do is wait and see.”

Martin went and sat at the table by Jon’s abandoned IV drip. It was mostly empty, which meant they probably hadn’t been gone long.

He put his head down on the table, trying hard not to worry, listening to Brianna’s footsteps as she paced back and forth.

She stopped and sighed. “I’m going to make some tea,” she said.

Martin looked up.

“Dammit. My kettle’s on the TARDIS.” She stormed over and plunked down opposite him. “Why?” she demanded. “They didn’t even have a plan yesterday, and now they all decide to take a field trip with Jon the first time neither of us goes to the meeting. We can’t leave them alone for ten minutes!”

Martin put his head back down.

“They’ll… they’ll be alright,” Brianna said, “They’re all the sort of people who go barging off into danger and come back completely fine. And… Sophie and Polgara went with them, right? They have some common sense, right? And Viktor. He’s… well, I guess he was dumb enough to start an apocalypse...”

“Brianna, this really isn’t helping.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, sorry, I just… I keep thinking about last time. With…”

With Noah.

Now Martin was thinking about it too.

“I still can’t believe they lost that kid. He was so… he was just starting to be happy again. He was just starting to recover, and…”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut.

“And then he was gone.” she finished. “I… I love traveling with the Doctor, but sometimes… sometimes things like that happen. Or things like this. And I’m alone in worrying, and in mourning. The Doctor… he’s so used to it. So used to all the wonder and the horror. Sometimes I think he keeps a companion to remember to feel things. Other times I think he feels things more than a human being can possibly comprehend, and either way...”

Martin thought about Jon in the apocalypse—knowing everything, numb to it out of necessity. “I… I think I can relate.” He looked up and she met his gaze with watery eyes.

Then the whoosh of the TARDIS returning filled the room, and both of them jumped up from the table, watching as the police box faded in like a cheap slide show animation.

The door burst open and people piled out, wearing the yellow flower crowns, talking animatedly. They stopped when they saw Brianna and Martin staring from the table.

Where was Jon? At least they seemed more excited than upset, but where was Jon?

The Doctor pushed his way through the doors. “What? Why are we crowding the door? Oh, hello, Brianna and Martin. Hope we didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“Wow.” Brianna glared at him. “Really?”

Martin’s question died on his lips as Eriond and Steven came out of the TARDIS supporting Jon between them.

He hurried over.

“He’s fine,” the Doctor said dismissively.

“Like hell, he is.”

Jon smiled at him. “Martin?” he slurred, eyes slightly unfocused.

“What did you do?” Brianna demanded.

“We cleared a planet of the Fears,” the Doctor said.

Martin relieved Eriond of his position supporting Jon. “Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

“...Earth?” Brianna asked in a hushed voice.

“No,” the Doctor said. “They have Earth in a vice grip. It was a planet with little crab things.”

“M’fine,” Jon said. “No, not hurt but the… the room is still spinning. I think I need to… lie down.”

“Wh-what?”

“It was an experiment,” the Doctor said. “And a successful one at that.”

“Eriond, what do you have in your pocket?”

“I think I need a lie down too. I could sleep for days.”

“Sorry, Aunt Pol.”

“Oh my god, it’s adorable!”

“Come on,” Martin said, wanting to get out of all the chaos and not particularly caring about the details of what had happened. “Let’s get you back to the apartment.”

Jon looked up at him in dazed awe. “You’re not… mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad at you,” Martin said. “I’m just… more worried. Let’s go. Thanks, Steven, but I got him from here.”

“You sure?” Steven said, but barely waited for an answer before joining Brianna in cooing over the small crab-like creature bobbing nervously on Eriond’s hand.

By the time they got back to the apartment, Jon was barely conscious and it was a struggle to get the door open and half-carry him to the bedroom. Martin managed to get him in bed, though, and pull off his shoes before drawing the covers over him.

“Martin?”

“What?’

“You’re wonderful.”

Martin felt a blush creep over his face, but rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk,” he said. “Or something.”

“I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah. What did they do to you? Hold on, let me check and make sure your wound didn’t open up again.” He lifted the collar of Jon’s shirt to see unbroken skin and, relieved, pulled the covers up the rest of the way.

“Martin.”

“I love you, Jon,” Martin said. “Go to sleep.”

“Mkay,” Jon said, and shut his eyes.

Martin stood over his still form for half a minute before testing. “Jon?”

No response. No movement.

So he turned and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. He wrapped his arms around his knees, shaking.

He wasn’t letting Jon out of his sight ever again.

Jon woke up with a blinding headache. The lights were too bright, the sound of the air in the vents was too harsh. He groaned and tried to cover his face with an arm that was inexplicably heavy, and also connected to an IV.

Alphabet soup, he thought vaguely. I bet I could finish any summer reading program in my sleep. Literally.

That was hilarious, but his head hurt too much to laugh at it.

“There you are,” Martin’s voice said. “Sleep alright?”

Jon squinted at him. “How did… I get here?”

“Um… you don’t remember?”

“I…” Jon thought back. “Oh…Oh!” He tried to sit up, but just collapsed back into the bed, dizzy, head hurting even worse.

They had pushed the Fears off a whole planet!

One planet...

One planet among billions.

But at least they’d done it. And it had hurt the Fears—it had actually hurt them. He could remember the powers mixing within him, combining to make something strong, something right.

Not only fearless, but fear-killing.

If he had this much of a headache over one measly planet without even any sapient life, though…

They couldn’t just meet the Fears head on. They’d already known that. It wasn’t new information.

The new information was that it was possible to hurt them, to drive them away.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Twenty hours,” Martin said. “I had to re-schedule with Rung. And I was starting to worry I’d need to reschedule again. We almost took you back to the medical wing. How are you feeling?”

“I have a terrible headache,” Jon said. “And I’m still exhausted. But other than that, not bad.”

“You were pretty out of it yesterday,” Martin said. “Guess this is like a… superpower hangover or something. They told me what they did.”

Jon sighed and shut his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said quietly.

“Are you?” Martin asked.

Jon hesitated.

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean to change, Jon. Did you even think about it? About how I’d feel when I realized you were gone?”

“I… well, it wasn’t going to take very long.”

“It was a rash, stupid thing to do,” Martin said. “And you could have asked them to wait, and don’t lie to me! You knew if you told me, I wouldn’t have let you go!”

Jon sighed. “But it worked.”

“This time,” Martin said. “This time you got lucky. And that doesn’t make it okay!”

Normally, Jon would have capitulated, but his head hurt, and they had pushed the Fears off of a whole planet, and he was tired of this. “Do you have any concept of the scale here?” he demanded. “Of how many people are suffering? Of how the Fears are growing stronger by the hour? This is bigger than us! And we don’t have time to play it safe! We have to take risks, we have to experiment. We can’t just give up after one or two things go wrong!”

“One or two things like letting it drag a kid into a black hole?”

Noah’s terrified face flashed in Jon’s vision.

Silence fell.

Martin sighed. “Do you think you could eat breakfast? I was planning to go myself.”

“Sure,” Jon said. “Though I don’t think I can walk.”

“Come on, then.”

Martin helped him out of bed and into the wheelchair, then rolled him out of the apartment.

Neither of them apologized.

Jon’s headache was, if anything, worse by the time they got to the dining hall. And Martin, as if trying to punish him, pushed him toward a big crowd of excited, giggling children gathered around one end of a long rectangular table, then left him.

The object of everyone’s excitement was one of the little crab things from the planet, which someone must have brought back. Brianna was feeding it scrambled eggs with a pair of chopsticks.

She flashed him a smile as if to say ‘watch this’ and held a little piece of scrambled egg about a foot and a half above the little mandarin-orange-sized creature.

It stood up tall and its legs telescoped out as it stretched upward, much to the delight of the watching children. It seemed able to extend its skinny stilt-like legs just far enough to reach up and snatch the bit of egg in its pincers.

It slowly collapsed its legs again as it nibbled at the egg.

“Alright,” Brianna said. “Show’s over. Run off to school. Maybe I’ll bring him around to your classrooms later or something.”

The kids left with much reluctance and glancing back over their shoulders. Brianna fed the crab thing another little bit of egg. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Aside from a headache and lingering exhaustion, not too bad,” Jon said.

Brianna reached into her satchel and set a little bottle of Advil on the counter.

“Thank you,” Jon tried to open it, but his hands were shaking, so Brianna had to do it for him.

He swallowed a few pills dry and leaned back in the wheelchair.

“Technically, he’s Eriond’s,” Brianna said, feeding the crab another piece of egg. “But everyone is tired from yesterday’s escapades, and so I took him for the night. Well, and we’ll have to see if Polgara lets him keep the little guy. He’s so cute. I wonder if we could go back to that planet and grab a few more.”

“The Fears returned after we left,” Jon said, and a vivid image of half a dozen little crabs huddled in a discarded flower crown flashed in his mind. “They’re all back in the storm.”

Brianna sighed. “That’s sad,” she said. “So it was just a temporary victory?”

Jon nodded. “Unfortunately.”

Something… something wasn’t right. Had they left a flower crown behind? He wasn’t sure. He could barely remember anything after they’d dispelled the Fears. It was Polgara’s, he thought. Was that important?

Gah. His mind was still a little fuzzy. He wasn’t sure why the flower crown mattered. Maybe it didn’t.

Martin returned with breakfast for himself and Jon.

“All of it,” he said sternly as he pushed a plate across the table.

Jon obediently picked up the fork.

The little crab thing scuttled over to investigate, but Brianna snatched it before it got to the new plates loaded with eggs. “Not you, you little insect,” she chided.

The crab thing snipped at her fingers with its pincers, but couldn’t reach.

“Feisty little guy,” she said.

“What is it?” Martin asked.

“Alien life from the planet they temporarily saved yesterday,”

“Oh…”

Jon watched as Martin tried very hard to dislike the little creature on principle, before giving up.

“What does it eat?”

“It didn’t want any of my porridge, but it really likes eggs.”

Martin got a little bit of egg on his fork and held it out for the crab thing to snatch, which it did with great excitement.

Martin smiled, enamored with the thing, until he saw Jon watching him fondly, and his face fell.

Jon looked away and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing mechanically.

The table fell silent.

“Um…” Brianna said. “Everything alright?”

Jon didn’t answer. Martin didn’t say anything either.

“Right,” Brianna said. “Sorry, I won’t pry. In fact, I think this little guy’s eaten his weight in eggs, and I’m done with my plate, so I’ll be off. I don’t think they’re having any meetings today, but I’ll go tomorrow, Martin, if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,” Martin said.

“See you around.” She gathered up the crab and her plate and left them there to eat in painful silence. The tension between them actually made it easier for Jon to finish his food, as he needed something to do other than look at Martin. When he only had a few bites of toast left, Martin let out an exasperated sigh and announced. “You’re bleeding again.”

Jon sighed as well.

He was so tired of this.

At first, it didn’t seem as bad as Rung had worried. They left the wheelchair out in the storage room and Martin helped Jon over the lip in the ground and watched attentively as he walked on unsteady legs to one of the human-sized chairs that he’d asked for.

But once the two of them were seated, he could see the rift between them in the way they wouldn’t look at each other. In Martin’s silent anger—in Jon’s resignation and defeat.

“So,” he said. “I assume the two of you have had some conflict over what happened yesterday.”

They both looked at him.

“Everyone forgets I’m here, now that I’m not in that room, but even if I don’t attend, I hear all the meetings. I overheard your experiment with everyone’s powers.”

Jon looked anxious. He shook his head slightly. 

Martin spoke. “And what did you think?”

Rung frowned. “That’s relevant, I’ll grant, but my purpose here isn’t to pick sides. I want to help you two work through this.”

Martin chuckled bitterly. Jon looked down at his hands.

Rung sighed. “I’m sure you’re still upset. But let’s talk about this. What happened yesterday?”

“You just said you know what happened,” Martin said.

“I know my version of what happened,” Rung said. “I want to hear what you know about what happened.”

“He ran off with the Doctor’s people to do something dangerous that could have killed him,” Martin said. “And he didn’t even tell me.”

Silence fell.

“Okay,” Rung said. “Jon?”

Jon looked at him.

“Can you explain what happened in the meeting? Why you made that decision?”

Jon shrugged. “Um… we were… Viktor wondered whether I could… well, we discovered they could use me as a sort of… battery for their powers. And since the Fears interact with me they thought I could use that to fight them. So we went to try it… and it worked.”

“Did you think about telling Martin before you left?”

Jon looked away.

“He didn’t think about anything!”

“I thought about it!” Jon snapped.

“But you chose not to tell him,” Rung said.

“It wasn’t supposed to… it wasn’t supposed to take very long, or be very dangerous.” Jon lied.

Rung frowned, disappointed.

“Yeah?” Martin said. “Then why couldn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because…” Jon started, then gave up and slumped back in his chair.

“Because you knew I’d talk you out of it!” Martin said. “Because it was a stupid thing to do!”

Jon crossed his arms. “You do know yelling at me isn’t going to change what happened.”

“You promised you would tell me if you left with the Doctor!”

“That was specifically for the black hole thing.”

“Jon!”

“Let’s take a moment,” Rung said. “Martin, a few deep breaths, please. Jon, look at me.”

The human reluctantly met his gaze.

“I heard you talking about the plan,” he said. “You could have died.”

Jon sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I might have… I don’t know, exploded. We weren’t sure what would happen when the Fears met the others’ powers. But… the TARDIS made them into something that felt so… perfect for erasing the Fears. I—I wanted to try. I didn’t want to wait. And I didn’t want Martin to… to worry, or… insist on coming along.”

“You didn’t want me to worry?” Martin said. “Brianna and I went to check on the meeting, and all of you were gone! No explanation! No idea why, or where, or if you’d come back!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not sorry I went,” Jon said. “But I’m sorry you were upset.”

Martin stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Stop,” Rung said. “Let’s take a step back from this.”

Martin looked away, scowling. Jon swallowed, looking guilty.

“Do you mind if I re-frame this disagreement a bit?”

Neither of them protested.

“I want to point out that both of you are coming from a place of caring about each other,” Rung said. “Jon, Martin is upset because he doesn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

Jon nodded slightly.

“Martin, Jon didn’t communicate with you, because he doesn’t want you to be worried about him. Each of you is trying to protect the other from something.”

They glanced at each other, then both looked away again.

“The question I’d like you to ask yourselves is this: Is what you’re doing—what you’ve been doing—effective in that regard?”

Martin shook his head.

“No,” Jon said quietly.

“Okay,” Rung said. “Then maybe it’s time to try something else.”

He gave them a few moments to absorb that.

“Something that I’ve noticed,” he said. “Is that the two of you are very good at communicating the positive things. I have heard you say you love each other, I’ve heard you praise each other. I’ve seen you care for each other.”

They wouldn’t look at each other.

“But you need to learn to communicate the hard things too. The hurt things. The frightening things.”

Jon took a deep breath. “It… was different, in the beginning. But we… we went through a lot. With the apocalypse on our planet—even before that. There are things that are… hard to talk about.”

Martin nodded.

“There are so many hard things that you’ve been through,” Rung said. “And there are so many now. You’re both farther from home than you’ve ever been before. You feel like you should be grateful just to be alive, but your fight against the Fears isn’t over. You were pushed to do difficult, terrible things back during your apocalypse, and I am sure you’ve both done things to hurt each other.”

Jon shook his head.

“Honestly,” Rung said. “The fact that you’ve managed to keep things together for so long, under the circumstances, is a testament to the strength of your relationship. But at some point you’ll need to address the things you don’t want to talk to each other about.”

Silence fell.

“It won’t be easy,” Rung said. “And we don’t have to talk about everything right now. We can start small. Does that sound good?”

Martin nodded slightly.

“Jon?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” Rung said. “For today, let’s work on what happened yesterday. I think it’s very likely that similar situations will come up in the future, so I want you two to work on a plan that will help you navigate things like this.”

He could see on their faces they didn’t think that was possible.

“I want you to take a few minutes,” Rung said. “And think of something you wish the other person would do differently next time. And then we’ll talk about it and both of you will make compromises. Alright?”

Both of them nodded, and then sat quietly, thinking.

After a few minutes, Rung spoke again. “Jon, I’d like you to go first.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Nothing.” he said.

Rung frowned.

“Really. I don’t think Martin did anything wrong.” He shook his head. “This is my fault. I should have… I should have just told him.”

Martin’s expression softened a little and he looked like he was about to say something.

“No,” Rung said. “That isn’t what I asked you to do.”

“But—”

“Jon,” Rung said. “Don’t. Martin, could you step out for a moment? I’d like to speak with him privately.”

Martin hesitated, while Jon shot him a ‘don’t leave me’ look.

“Please,” Rung said. “It’s sweet, but this is what you’ve been doing. You’re sweet to each other, and then you go behind each other’s backs.”

Martin nodded and stood. Rung opened the wall for him, and then closed it behind him.

“Jon,” he said. “I asked you to come up with something Martin can do differently.”

“Tell me what you think he’s done that isn’t justified. He’s… he’s right. Yesterday was…”

“I didn’t ask you to tell him what he’s done wrong. I wanted you to think of something he could do differently. You agree that you should have told him. But does that mean you’ll tell him next time? Be honest with me.”

Jon sighed. “I… no. I… probably won’t tell him next time either.”

“Why?”

Jon thought about it. “He… I felt like it was something I needed to do. And I knew he was going to try to talk me out of it, and he was going to get upset, and then he was going to be worried if I went, and maybe he’d actually talk me out of it, and then we wouldn’t make progress with the Fears. I… I can’t just ask him to… not be worried. To not get upset. I can’t imagine if… if our roles were reversed, I would be losing my mind. But… I have to help the Doctor fight the Fears. I can’t just walk away from this, and I don’t… he doesn’t understand that… that I could never live with myself if I just walked away.”

“Have you… told him all of that?”

“Yes!” Jon said. “I’ve tried, at least, to explain.”

“Hmm… could you perhaps ask him to try to see things from your perspective?”

Jon looked down.

“I need you to ask him to make a change. I want both of you to have something to work on after this session. Even if it’s something as simple as trying to stay calmer during disagreements and not yell at each other.”

Jon seemed to think about it.

Rung waited.

“Fine,” Jon said. “I… I have something I… he can come back in.”

Rung let Martin in, and Martin walked quietly over and sat down next to Jon.

“Face each other,” Rung instructed. “Jon, I’d still like you to go first. Martin, I’d like you to let him talk without interrupting.”

They scooted their chairs to face each other, and Jon hesitantly reached out and took Martin’s hands in his.

“Go on,” Martin said gently.

“I wish…” Jon said. “I… Martin, I…”

Martin took a deep breath. “It’s okay,” he said. “Whatever it is. What can I do differently?”

Jon sighed. “I wish you would trust me.”

Silence fell.

“I know I haven’t done anything to earn that—ever.” Jon laughed. “I… honestly don’t know if anyone’s ever trusted me in my entire life. And that’s fair—that really is. But… I still wish you would. I know it’s hard, and that I’m… in danger. But, I really do want to survive this. I’m not trying to get myself killed, I’m just trying to… to fix what I’ve broken.”

Martin looked down, clearly conflicted.

“I trusted you with all the Lonely stuff—I trusted that you would reach out when you needed me to step in, and… and you did. Maybe you can trust me to do the same...I… I don’t really know what I’m saying...”

Martin looked to Rung for permission to speak and Rung nodded.

“I didn’t know if you would,” Martin said. “Step in, I mean, when I… with the Lonely, I just… I figured if you didn’t then it didn’t really matter. I wouldn’t care ever again, at least.”

Jon paled. “That was... Martin, if I hadn’t gone after you... If I hadn’t been able to find you… if my connection to the Eye hadn’t been strong enough to call you back…”

“Even then, I didn’t really trust you,” Martin said. “I just… either way. But you did come for me. Came running into the Lonely with no idea whether you’d find me or be able to find your way back. Just like with Daisy and the coffin. Just like… like yesterday.”

“I’ve always made it back, though,” Jon said. “Haven’t I?”

Martin traced the edge of a burn scar on the back of Jon’s hand. “Not… Jon, I…” He took a deep breath. “Jon I wish you’d think things through before you did them. I wish you’d stop getting hurt because you just… rushed into something. I don’t know—no, I do know. Jon, the reason you always came back was that the Fears needed you. The Eye and the Web were watching over you, guiding you, using you. And they chose you because you’re the sort of person who just rushes off into things with no regard for your safety or wellbeing, or the consequences of your actions. And… and I guess that’s the same with the Doctor and his people. They need you, so they’re going to try to keep you alive. But… this can’t go on forever. One of these times you might not come back. Noah was a powerful avatar and the Fears took him without any trouble. If you’re not careful…”

Jon met Martin’s gaze. Rung watched carefully, not wanting to interrupt.

“And what if we get through all of this? What about after, if we both survive, by some miracle? Then are you going to stop rushing into danger? You’re not powerful on your own, Jon. I… I don’t want to be scared for you for the rest of my life.”

Jon took in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I… sometimes I don’t think things through because I know if I do, I’ll get scared and back out. And that’s… also part of why I didn’t tell you. I’ll… I’ll think it through next time. And I’ll talk it through with you too… I might still have to do dangerous things, but… I won’t hide them from you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Jon nodded.

“And I’ll try to trust you,” Martin said, then smiled slightly. “Against my better judgment.”

“The heroes need me even more now that we’ve proven they can use me as a conduit too,” Jon said. “I know you don’t like that—honestly I’m not sure I do either, but it does mean they’ll be careful not to get me killed.”

“That’s really not as comforting as you think it is.”

“It’s meant to be the truth, not comforting,” Jon said. “I have a massive headache and a hole in my chest, so that’s the best I can do, I think.”

Martin shook his head. “What… was it like? Having all that power flowing through you?”

Jon hesitated.

“If you want me to trust you…”

“It hurt,” Jon admitted quietly. “At least, when it was actively destroying the Fears. And I’m not looking forward to doing it again, but if it’s what I have to do to finally put an end to this…”

Martin looked pained. “Jon, you shouldn’t…” he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He took another deep breath. “If this is what you feel like you have to do. But Jon… if you change your mind… if you don’t want to go through with it anymore… come to me and I’ll… I’ll get you out of it somehow. At least some of them… I bet Steven would be willing to go behind everyone’s backs and heal you if you wanted. And then you’d be useless to them.”

“Right,” Jon said. “That’s our way out.”

Martin nodded.

“If I change my mind.”

“And I’ll… trust you to make that decision,” Martin said.

“Against your better judgment,” Jon added with a bit of a smile.

Martin smiled too, and stood, and pulled Jon into a tight embrace.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m scared,” Jon whispered.

“Me too.”

Rung waited while they held each other, until they let go.

“Thank you,” he said. “Both of you, for doing that exercise for me. How are we feeling?”

They looked at each other.

Martin nodded.

“Better,” Jon said.

“Good. Well, if there’s anything else you want to talk about, we can. But otherwise, I’ll let the two of you go. I believe there’s a meeting starting soon.”

Jon sighed “I think I might skip the meeting this time,” he said.

Martin smiled at him and took his hand.

Rung opened the door in the wall for them.

Chapter Text

The little space crab did not like being shoved into Brianna’s pocket, but she didn’t trust it on her shoulder, as it seemed to want to climb and explore and dig its way under her clothes, which she did not appreciate. Once she got it all the way in the pocket of her sweater, it calmed down a bit and just glared at her, looking like little more than an unusually round rock with its legs fully retracted into its body.

“Stay there,” she told it. “I’ll let you run around on the table during the meeting.”

It chittered angrily.

“You are adorable,” she told it, and left her apartment to head to the meeting. She passed Jon and Martin in the hall. Jon was back in the wheelchair after yesterday’s escapade, but they seemed in better spirits than they’d been at breakfast. She knew they’d been to see Rung, and was curious, but didn’t ask how therapy had gone, just waved and let them know she was on her way to the meeting and she’d update them if anything important happened.

About half of the group was there when she arrived. She sat by Eriond and tried to pull the little crab out of her pocket, but as reluctant as it had been to go in, it was now even more determined to stay in.”

“Sorry,” she said as she tried to wrestle it out without hurting its spindly legs. “He’s shy all of a sudden… ow, don’t nip at me you… here we go.”

The crab scrambled away from her on the table. Eriond blocked it with one arm, which it prodded curiously with its pincers.

“I fed him breakfast,” Brianna said. “He likes eggs, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Eriond said, and picked up the crab, trying to hold it in his hands, but it wanted nothing to do with him, so he gave up and just watched it scuttle around on the table.

Viktor wandered over to watch. “It is a fascinating little creature,” he said. “I wonder how the legs work.”

Eriond glared at him. “You are not taking him apart.”

“I didn’t say I would,” Viktor said. “Biology was never my area of expertise anyway. I’m just curious.”

“I’m more curious about their diet,” Brianna said. “If he needs the same nutrients we do or not. Eggs are a good all-around food, and he seems to like them, but he won’t be healthy unless he’s getting everything he’s supposed to. I’d love to go back to that planet and study the ecosystem and the natural behaviors of these little guys.”

“What are you going to name it?” Jayce had followed Viktor over.

“Um… I haven’t thought about it,” Eriond said, and watched the little rock crab scuttle around. He leaned over the table and rested his chin on his arms. The little crab approached and then stopped in front of his face, staring back at him. “Hmm…” Eriond said, then smiled. “I think I’ll call him Orb.” He glanced over to where Polgara and King Mendanbar were chatting.

Steven came over and sat across from him. “Hey,” he said. “Aww, I forgot how cute it is.”

“You can pick him up if you want,” Eriond said. “But he doesn’t like to be held.”

Steven held out his hand and Orb turned to investigate it, tapping it with a leg and prodding it with his pincers, but he didn’t climb on. So instead Steven scooped him up and deposited the little creature on his head.

“Hey!” He laughed as Orb burrowed into his hair.

The rock crab nestled in, retracted his arms, and held still.

“I think he thinks he’s hiding,” Eriond said.

“Well, it seems everyone’s here now,” the Doctor announced from the other end of the table. “So let’s get started.”

The chatting around the table died down slowly as everyone turned to face the Doctor.

“We made good progress yesterday,” he said. “Now, our next step may be to see if we can reclaim and hold a planet.”

Brianna was wary of that.

“I don’t think we can,” Sophie said. “Some of us might have unlimited strength, but I slept for about twelve hours last night and I’m still exhausted. I know I’m not the only one.”

“As soon as the Fears turned their attention on us we had to retreat,” Jayce said. “I don’t think we can hold ground.”

“Good point,” the Doctor said, looking disappointed.

“I think,” Eriond said. “Our next step is to see if we can fight them without using Jon as a conduit. I think the fact that we were able to combine our powers was what actually pushed them back.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Unfortunately,” Viktor said. “The only reason we were able to combine our powers was because we could use Jon as a conduit.”

“So we’d need to find a different conduit,” Steven said. “Sophie, you made Jon into a better conduit. Do you think you could make someone into a conduit in the first place?”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t think so… I’m better with things if they’re already sort of shaped right, magically speaking.”

“Whether we can fight them without Jon or not,” Jayce said. “Our powers aren’t sufficient to destroy them entirely.”

Silence fell.

“While we were there,” King Mendanbar said, “I tried to capture some of the Fear magic with my own so I could get a closer look at it.”

They looked at him.

“And?” the Doctor said.

“I couldn’t,” he said. “It stopped existing almost as soon as I cut it off from the outside world.”

“Right,” Viktor said. “It needs fear to exist. We knew that.”

“But that does bring up an excellent point,” the Doctor said. “Our plan to trap the Fears in a black hole was flawed—for one thing, it got back out, which we should have realized it would be able to do—after all, it can tear through the fabric between universes—what’s a measly little black hole? But the larger flaw, the deeper one, was that it still had access to the universe’s fear. If we can trap it somewhere that it doesn’t, even for a short period of time, that will weaken it significantly.”

“But is there anywhere in the universe that it doesn’t?” Sophie asked.

“What about another universe?” Steven suggested. “Are there empty ones?”

“There are,” the Doctor said. “And I suppose we might be able to coax it into one, but we’d have to open a path to it, and then it could just come back through.”

“Could we seal it in?” Jayce asked.

“That may be difficult,” Viktor said. “Even if we could, it might have the strength to travel to another universe and start over. Remember, the first—or I suppose second—universe it devoured was left desolate—fearless—but the Fears still managed to use the dregs of their power to escape to a third. And they are much more powerful now than they must have been at the height of their power in that second universe.”

The table fell silent again.

“You know,” Sophie said. “I bet even if we had the power to push this thing off all the planets, it would just go somewhere else—to another universe.”

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “It would. So we can’t just fend it off—we have to trap it and kill it entirely.”

The others agreed, but they couldn’t agree on how. The few ideas put forth were shot down and in a few minutes, they were sitting quietly around the table, thinking.

Then the wall opened and Brianna looked over to see Rung emerge from it.

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor said. “Join us. We could use your insight.”

Rung hesitated, then crawled closer to the table, one hand closed in a fist. “I…” he said, then seemed to steel himself to say something. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were talking about earlier. About not using Jon as a conduit. I’ve been thinking the same thing since yesterday, and I… um… I think I made something?”

They stared at him.

“...that might help,” Rung finished, and held out his closed hand, opening it palm up so they could see the device—tiny compared to his hand.

The Doctor got up from the table and went to take it from him. It was like a little metal planet, almost, like Saturn, with rings that sort of made handles on either side of the grapefruit-sized sphere in the center.

“I think…” Rung said. “I think it can store your powers… I’m not sure.”

Viktor took it from the Doctor and studied it, with Jayce looking over his shoulder.

“This is remarkable.” Viktor looked back at Rung. “You made this?”

Rung looked uncomfortable. “Yes?”

“I did not know you were such an engineer.”

“I’m not,” Rung said. “I’m… honestly, I’m not sure how I... but I thought it might help. If you don’t have to use Jon as a conduit, that’s probably best. It doesn’t sound like it’s pleasant for him.”

Viktor stared at it, and it seemed to glimmer slightly.

“It works,” he said. “I can infuse it with power.” He passed down the table.

The Doctor frowned at Rung, who still looked less than happy about having so much attention on him.

“Anyway,” the giant robot said. “I hope it's useful. I’ll, um… be in my office if anyone needs me. I have to... think about some things.” He turned and crouch-walked away, back through the hole in the wall.

The Doctor watched him, then looked at Brianna.

She shrugged. “TARDIS doesn’t make mistakes, I guess.” Maybe there had been more to that choice than finding a decent therapist for Jon and Martin.

“Alright,” the Doctor said. “This is definitely worth exploring. You should all try filling that device with power… and we can see if we can use it to push the Fears off of a planet as well. Maybe we don’t need Jon after all. I’m sure he and Martin would be pleased about that.”

There was a lot of nodding around the table.

“Do we think we can try that now?” the Doctor said. “Or do we want another day to recover from our last adventure?”

“Another day, please,” Sophie said.

“We’ll try tomorrow, then,” the Doctor said. “And once we’ve confirmed this will work, we’ll figure out how we can use it on a larger scale to get rid of the Fears for good.”

Martin could tell Jon was upset that the Doctor hadn’t wanted him to come along. They hadn’t taken Brianna either, or Rung, or Jayce. Only the Doctor, and anyone who could infuse Jon with power. They’d taken the little device Rung had made too.

Jon had offered to go with them—to warn them if they needed to flee like he’d done the last time. But the Doctor had pointed out that the Fears were particularly good at locating him, and he’d probably give their position away.

Jon hadn’t even bothered to pretend he wasn’t disappointed. Honestly, Martin suspected Jon would be even more upset if the others could fight the Fears without him. He wouldn’t be surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but Jon had always wanted to be involved—to stick his nose in everything, whether it was his business or not.

He sat at the table, wearing a worried expression, drumming his fingers on the surface while Orb scuttled around, watching in fascination, occasionally mimicking the motion with his little crab legs.

He darted too close and Jon noticed him and stopped drumming, looking down at the cute little creature sternly.

Orb shrank back a bit, staring up at Jon with the flat, round eyes that made him look perpetually curious and frightened.

Jon’s expression softened slightly, and he half-smiled at Orb, but then looked away—toward the space the TARDIS normally occupied, worried again.

Martin watched him, trying to sort out his conflicting feelings. At least Jon hadn’t gone with them this time, but it was because the Doctor had said ‘no.’ Martin wasn’t sure if he would have been able to talk Jon out of it otherwise. Martin had promised to try to trust Jon, but shouldn’t Jon be… doing things to earn his trust? Shouldn’t he be trying to be responsible? Also, as a side note, worried Jon was kind of cute, which was confusing things further.

Finally, Jon caught him staring, and met his gaze, tilting his head a little, questioning.

“How are you feeling?” Martin said.

“Fine.”

He had walked to the meeting today—he seemed to have pretty much recovered from the other day. “Headache still?”

“Just a bit of one,” Jon said. “Nothing like yesterday. Are you… mad at me for offering to go with them?”

Martin sighed. “No.”

Jon looked at him knowingly.

“Yes,” Martin said. “Probably. I don’t know. I’m less upset that you offered, and more concerned that you clearly wanted to.”

Jon looked down.

“The Eye can reconnect with you out there, can’t it?”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“How much of wanting to go out there is… wanting that?”

Jon blinked. “I didn’t think about that, but probably... more than I’d like to admit.”

“And you can see how that’s concerning, yeah?”

“Yes.” Jon sounded defeated.

“And also why you really shouldn’t go out there?”

“You’re right,” Jon said. “Of course.”

“What’s appealing about it?” Brianna butted in.

“Well…” Jon said. “I… It was sort of nice to know anything I wanted to… even if everything was terrible.”

“And I’m sure it was a bit of a power trip,” Martin said. “He was an apocalypse celebrity, you know.”

“Right,” Brianna said.

“...yes,” Jon admitted. “That too, I suppose.”

And it had gone to his head to the point where he’d considered it as his right to decide the fate of all the people on the planet.

“I think… I also feel… incomplete here,” Jon said. “It’s not as bad as it was in the times I was hidden from the Eye during the apocalypse in our home universe—but that’s just because the alphabet soup fills in the gaps. I still… feel like there’s a piece missing—just out of reach. Like an impossible to locate itch or a phantom pain in an amputated limb.”

Brianna nodded.

“I’m glad we have the prospect of Steven healing me,” he said. “Otherwise… I somehow doubt I’d ever be able to come off the alphabet soup. I’m just not…” he shot a guilty look at Martin and turned away.

Martin watched him, genuinely worried about him now. “Jon?”

“Incomplete,” Jon said, narrowing his eyes. “The power was still incomplete, when I tested it.”

He’d been able to draw it from the thing Rung had made, apparently.

Martin frowned, but didn't push the issue. He didn’t want to be told Jon wouldn’t ever get better—that he wasn’t human enough to survive without supernatural intervention. It wasn’t like Martin didn’t know that already. He was almost relieved Jon had changed the subject.

“What does that mean?” Brianna asked. “Are we missing someone?”

“Yes.” Jon got up from the table. “Excuse me a minute.”

They watched as he crossed the room and knocked on the wall.

It took several long, quiet seconds before Rung opened the door.

“Hello, Jon,” the big, orange and white robot said. “Is… there something I can help you with?”

“Are you absolutely certain you don’t have any magical abilities?”

Rung looked past him at Martin and Brianna, then shrugged. “Not that I know of,” he said.

“Can I… try—”

“Jon,” Martin said. “Don’t pressure him.”

“It’s alright,” Rung said, but hesitated. "I... it's possible that any member of my race might be able to contribute to the powers." He put a hand to his chest. "Our sparks could possibly be considered supernatural... especially in this universe. But I'm really not remarkable among my own kind. Unusual, perhaps, but not..." 

Jon frowned. "Could any member of your race have made that device that you gave them?" 

Rung looked away. "...no. But I can't explain that. It's not the first time something... but I don't know what it means." 

Jon sighed, then held out a hand. "Do you want to know?" 

Rung hesitated again. "I've always wanted to know," he said. "But... for some reason I'm afraid of you telling me."

Jon deflated a little. "Right," he said. "That's reasonable." 

"But if you think it might help fight the Fears, you're welcome to try drawing power from me. Just don't be disappointed if nothing happens."

Rung reached out, and Jon put one hand against the tip of his index finger.

The room was still for a moment, and then Jon gasped and stumbled back. Martin got up out of his chair to rush over, but Jon stayed on his feet.

“What?” Rung asked, withdrawing his hand. “Are you alright? I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” Jon said, and coughed a couple of times. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Rung said. “I felt that, so I assume you were able to draw some form of power from me.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Yes, and… whatever the case, I do think you’re the missing ingredient, as it were.”

Rung nodded, looking troubled.

“I’m… sorry if that’s unwanted news?”

Rung shook his head. “No, just confusing” He smiled. “But it’s fine—that's nothing new. I’m glad to be of more help in fighting the Fears. I… I’ll see you later today for your private session.”

Jon nodded, and Rung retreated, closing the door behind himself.

Jon walked back over to the table and slumped into the chair across from Martin again, looking exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Martin asked. “What was that?”

Jon nodded. “I’m just a bit winded,” he said. “He’s…” he spoke in a whisper. “He’s at least as powerful as Eriond or Steven.”

Brianna’s eyebrows shot up.

“And it… I almost passed out for a second—I think his powers are in opposition to the Eye… and the End. Each of the heroes fights different Fears, you know… sort of. It's not perfect and it all gets mixed together...”

“Really?” Martin said. “As a… therapist and all, I would think he’d fight the Lonely.”

“No,” Jon said. “In fact… I worry a bit. We do tend to forget he’s there…” He looked at Martin. “You’ll let me know, if… if you start to feel, um… Lonely, won’t you? I still think the Fears are creeping in through the observation deck.”

“Yeah,” Martin said, smiling. “I’ll… I’ll try, at least.”

Jon nodded, slumping forward a bit. A shadow of something—pain, maybe—crossed his features, but then he looked back at the empty space where the TARDIS usually was. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“Depends,” Brianna said. “It’s only been what? Forty-five minutes?”

Jon sighed and crossed his arms.

“We don’t have to be here when they get back,” Martin pointed out. “If you’re tired, we could—”

“I want to know,” Jon said. “I want to know if they can fight the Fears without me. If so… the only thing they might need me for is luring the Fears somewhere. I would very much prefer that.”

“Right,” Martin said. “You told me having all of their magic powers flowing through you wasn’t fun.”

“It wasn’t.” Jon said.

He’d said it hurt. Martin looked down at his hands.

The chest wound had closed up again. As much as Jon insisted it was random, or had to do with the severed Eye connection, Martin couldn’t help noting that it had opened up when they were fighting. And it had closed again once they’d reconciled.

And… it bothered him that Jon never noticed. It hurt—Martin knew it hurt, so why did Jon always have to be told whenever he started bleeding again? Did it just…

“Jon,” Martin said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Jon looked up. “Yes?” he asked, studying Martin’s face in a worried sort of way.

“Does…?”

The whoosh of the TARDIS cut him off, and everyone turned to watch it appear.

It was apparent, even before the doors opened that something had gone wrong. The TARDIS appeared fine, but the flower crown wrapped around its roof smoldered and smoked, and the cheerful yellow flowers were blackened and wept burning ashes.

The chain snapped and fell to the floor as the doors opened and the group stumbled out, coughing and soot-covered.

“What happened?” Brianna got up and went to meet the Doctor.

“We got a little too close,” the Doctor said.

Brianna looked around the group “Did everyone make it back?” she asked.

They didn’t answer.

“Can we…” Eriond asked quietly, “Can we… go back for him?”

“We waited as long as we could,” The Doctor said. “We were going to start losing more people if we didn’t leave.” He glanced over at King Mendanbar, who had walked a little ways away from the group and was staring up at the ceiling in mild fascination.

Some of the others seemed off as well. Polgara had an arm around Eriond, but there was an absent, almost empty look in her eyes. Viktor was more frail and gaunt-looking than ever. Eriond was shaking, eyes welling with tears.

Martin’s blood turned to ice as he realized who was missing.

The Doctor came and sat at the table next to Jon.

“What happened?” Brianna demanded.

“There were people, calling for help,” the Doctor said. “He rushed off before we could stop him.”

“You went somewhere with people?” Jon demanded. “The whole reason—”

“We didn’t realize there would be people,” the Doctor said. “It is really remarkable how many places you find people when you don’t expect to.”

Jayce had popped into existence and was guiding an exhausted-looking Viktor over to the table. “Were you at least able to push the Fears back at all?”

The Doctor shook his head.

Martin’s heart sank further, and Jon put his face in his hands.

“We… have to go back for him,” Eriond said. “We can’t just leave him out there.”

“He chose to run off,” the Doctor snapped. “And… and he’s probably still alive. Steven is quite powerful. He’ll... be fine. And we still have some of his power in Rung’s device, so we can hopefully stop the Fears without him.”

Steven.

“You could… try though,” Brianna said. “Right? If you know where you left him.”

“We can try,” the Doctor agreed. “Once Sophie makes us another garland for the TARDIS. Though I will be going to look for him alone. I don’t want to risk the rest of you. You’re all important in your own universes.”

“We aren’t,” Viktor said. “We’ll go with you.”

Jayce nodded.

The Doctor looked conflicted.

“I’ll get started on the garland,” Sophie said. “Though we might need to pick up some more of the flowers.”

“I’m not important in my universe,” Jon looked up. “I’ll go with you too.”

“No,” the Doctor said.

“I can find him,” Jon said. “I can connect to the Eye and find him.”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor said. “We can’t risk you. The powers won’t even interact with the Fears unless they go through you, so if we lose you, then we’ve lost everything.”

“But I—”

“No.”

“I can get him back.” Jon said.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. “It’s not worth the risk,” he asserted. “We’ll find him after this is over. He can still heal you then, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

Jon stared at him for a moment, then shoved out of the chair and stormed off toward the door.

Martin shot the Doctor a dirty look before rushing after him.

He caught up out in the hall. “Jon.”

Jon ignored him.

“Jon.” Martin grabbed his shoulder, and Jon stopped. He was shaking slightly.

“You’re probably relieved,” Jon muttered bitterly. “That he won’t let me go.”

“No,” Martin said, feeling guilty. “I’m not. I’m actually with you on this one. But… I don’t know if there’s anything we can do, not without the TARDIS.”

They couldn’t ask Steven to heal Jon. That wasn’t an option anymore.

King Mendanbar walked past them with an intense look on his face. Martin watched him as he took a side hallway, muttering to himself.

He could still hear arguing from the storage room behind them.

“Look,” he said. “Let’s… let’s go back to the apartment for now. Maybe Brianna and Eriond will convince him to let you go. They’ll have a better chance than us at that. And… I think you need some alphabet soup.”

Jon sighed. “Alright,” he said softly.

Martin took his hand and led the way toward the elevator.

Chapter Text

Jon sat up with a start, feeling vaguely panicky. The knife pulsed cold through his chest, in tandem with his racing heart.

Where was he? The apartment. He’d been asleep.

Steven was gone.

Jon was the only one who could use the heroes’ powers against the Fears.

He swallowed as a sick sensation settled in his stomach. Maybe he wanted the nightmare back.

Martin stirred next to him, reaching for him, mumbling. “Jon… what…?”

“I’m fine,” Jon caught his searching hand. “I’m here. I just had a bad dream.”

A dream. What had he been dreaming about?

The hallways of the station, but… wrong somehow. Strange. He’d been running, searching… he’d had a ball of silvery string, but it hadn’t been working. It had been leading him in circles. There had been cobwebs in all the corners and strange, inhuman eyes watching from dark doorways.

The dream faded, even as he tried to examine it, but he wasn’t tired now, so he let go of Martin’s hand and got up, rubbing his chest where the currently closed but continually painful wound was.

They had some bread in their little kitchenette, a few pieces of fruit, and a wide selection of teas, along with some instant coffee that Brianna had brought for them.

Jon got a mug and filled it with water to heat up in the sci-fi microwave thing, trying not to think about everything that had happened the day before.

Martin stumbled into the room just as the microwave beeped.

“Hey,” Jon said. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Martin shook his head, yawning, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Do you want some tea?” Jon got up and went to the microwave.

“Sure,” Martin mumbled, sitting at the table.

“What kind?” Jon said. “And do you want sugar? Cream? Some of that honey they gave us? I think we still have some.”

He listened carefully to Martin’s mumbling as he put another mug in the microwave and started preparing the first one to Martin’s specifications. Normally, Martin was more alert in the morning than him. Jon felt bad again for waking him up.

He handed Martin the mug of tea and went back to retrieve his own. He made himself some of the instant coffee and sat across from his half-asleep boyfriend.

Martin stirred the mug with the tea bag. “You alright?” he asked, sounding a little more alert.

“Yes,” Jon said.

“Bad dream, yeah?”

“Mhm…” It was gone. Jon couldn’t remember. “It’s strange because the alphabet soup usually gives me… more neutral dreams. This one was something about… I don’t know. I think it was on the space station. Maybe. I was… was I running from something? I don’t know. It wasn’t that bad, just a little alarming. I am sorry it woke both of us up.”

“s’okay,” Martin said, and sipped the mug of tea.

“How’s the tea?” Jon asked.

“Not bad,” Martin said. “For cheap, microwave tea.”

That was probably about as good as it would get. Jon sipped his coffee and made a face. “I forgot how bad this stuff is.”

Martin smiled at him.

“What?”

“You made some yesterday and said the same thing.”

Jon sighed.

“Do you want to trade?”

“What? Martin, I’m not making you drink this.”

“Here.” Martin pushed his mug across the table, and reached for Jon’s. “I need the extra caffeine anyway.”

Jon relented and handed Martin his coffee.

Martin took a sip and shook his head. “Okay, never mind,” he said. “Are you sure you put the right amount in?”

“I followed the instructions on the box.” Jon sipped Martin’s tea, which had turned out acceptably. “Here.” He pushed it back. “We can just share this if you want.”

Martin nodded, and silence fell between them.

“Do you think the Doctor’s back yet?” Martin asked.

Jon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He’d finally gone, taking just Viktor and Jayce with him to look for Steven. He hadn’t been back by the time Martin had convinced Jon to go to bed.

“I hope they find Steven,” Martin said, and passed the tea back to Jon.

Jon nodded. “I hope they make it back at all. If they don’t…”

“Then I guess we’re stuck here forever,” Martin said. “It could be worse.”

“You’ll be stuck here forever,” Jon said quietly. “Me, just until we run out of alphabet soup.”

Martin looked down. “Right,” he said.

“Sorry,” Jon said, and passed the tea back to him.

“No, no, you’re not wrong,” Martin said. “Um… can we change the subject?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Of course. Um… do you think there’ll be a meeting this morning? Are we going? Is Brianna going?”

“I don’t know,” Martin said. “But either way, I think we have time for breakfast beforehand. It’s only… 6:30.”

Jon sighed. “Plenty of time.”

“I have a session with Rung today,” Martin said. “How was yours yesterday?”

Jon had forgotten about it, but Martin had dragged him there. He was too good at forcing Jon to go to therapy. “It was fine,” Jon said. He didn’t particularly like talking about his feelings, but he could see how it was… well, he could see how it might be helpful.

It actually had been nice to talk about Steven—how he was worried even though the Doctor insisted the young man was probably fine. Even if he was alive—which was quite possible—he wasn’t alright.

Then Rung had gotten curious about why Jon always blamed himself for other people getting hurt or killed, and had coaxed the Mr. Spider story out of him. They’d talked about survivor’s guilt and Jon’s many failed attempts to protect people. Sasha and Tim had come up, and Noah, and dammit, Jon hated crying in front of people, even giant robot therapists.

“Jon?” Martin said.

The session with Martin there had been good. They… they’d been doing much better since then, but after yesterday—after losing Steven…

They didn’t have an escape route anymore.

Jon couldn’t just… back out. If he got scared and decided he didn’t want to help fight the Fears, there was no guarantee the Doctor wouldn’t force him somehow. The Doctor had started teaching him how to block unwanted mental invasions, but they hadn’t gotten very far with that, and Jon was quite certain he wouldn’t be able to block out the other heroes’ powers. He also didn’t like his chances of resisting a statement. The Doctor would just have to deprive him of alphabet soup and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. They could use him as bait against his will—as a weapon against the Fears without his consent.

And if it hurt him badly enough… Steven wouldn’t be there to heal him. They’d have to go find him, after the Fears were gone, and by that point, Jon might…

Something touched his hand and he jumped, nearly spilling the mug of tea.

It was just Martin, reaching across the table, looking worried.

Jon took in a deep, shaky breath and pushed the tea away from himself. “Sorry.”

Martin didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re alright,” He said. “But… do you want to talk about it?”

Jon shook his head. “When this is over,” he said “If this is ever over, I’m going to be completely boring for the rest of my life. I’ll… I don’t know, get an ordinary, completely safe job somewhere, and live and ordinary, unremarkable life.”

Martin smiled. “That’s the dream,” he said.

“I’ll be so boring you’ll get tired of me.”

“Never,” Martin said, squeezing his hand.

They smiled at each other for a few moments. Then Jon looked down again. “I want to check and see if the Doctor’s back yet.”

“Okay,” Martin said. “But breakfast first.”

They got ready and headed to the dining hall. They didn’t see any of the Doctor’s heroes there, which didn’t seem like a good sign, but maybe it was just too early. They’d all had late nights.

Jon had a hard time eating, but managed to force down most of a bowl of porridge, because Martin insisted. Then they made their way to check on the TARDIS.

When they got there, everyone else was already sitting at the table, looking grim and worried. The TARDIS was back, along with the Doctor, Jayce and Viktor. But Jon’s relief was short-lived as he realized the table wasn’t just missing Steven.

“Where’s Mendanbar?” he asked.

“Completely disappeared,” the Doctor said. “No one’s seen him since just after we got back yesterday.”

A new dread wormed into his heart. “Disappeared?”

“That king guy?’ Martin said. “We saw him in the hall after… he seemed like he was in a hurry.”

“We didn’t hear him come back to his chambers,” Eriond said. “Last night.”

“Jayce and I have checked on the metaphysical plane,” Viktor said. “We couldn’t see him anywhere on the station.”

“The cameras are no help,” Brianna said. “We can follow him on them for a bit, but… well, they keep shorting out, and then at some point he just vanishes down a hallway that doesn’t exist on the blueprints.”

This was not good.

“We’re trying to figure out what this means, and what our next steps are,” the Doctor said. “You’ve mentioned the Fears have some influence here, but if they can make people disappear…”

“This sounds like…” Martin looked at Jon.

“The Spiral, maybe,” Jon said. “This, I…” If the Fears had found them somehow…

“Maybe he… brought something back with him?” Sophie said. “He was acting odd.”

Jon had to know. He had to find out if the station was compromised. “I can try to… to know what happened to him—where he is now.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said. “You’ll just—”

“I have to!” Jon said. “He can’t have left the station. He has to be here somewhere, and I can find him, and if the Fears are strong enough here to take people, then—”

“Stop,” Martin said. “Take a deep breath, okay? You’re freaking out.”

Jon glared at him, but then sighed and breathed deeply.

“Let’s talk about this,” Martin said. “Right? Mendanbar disappears—it looks like the Spiral took him. No one noticed yesterday because we were all panicking about Steven. But… is there another explanation?”

“He… is powerfully magical,” Eriond said. “And we’re not really sure what he can and can’t do. His magic is… different.”

“But even if he could leave the station on his own, why not tell someone beforehand?” Brianna asked. “Why just disappear with no explanation?”

“Very suspicious,” the Doctor said. “He almost wandered off when we had to retreat yesterday too.”

“We know the Fears have a minor effect on this facility,” Viktor said. “There’s some sort of leak.”

Jon nodded.

“But we’ve agreed they can’t know where we are,” Brianna said. “Or they’d attack.”

“Can they get information back out of the black hole?” the Doctor said. “That is the important question.”

“Well, the Spider climbed back out of that other black hole,” Martin said. “So maybe the answer is yes?”

“But then why haven’t they killed us all?”

“The Web…” Jon said. “The Web is dominant. If it knows where we are, then it may have a reason to wait. It will wait for a specific moment, or it will attack subtly, lead us to destroy ourselves…”

“But we don’t know,” Brianna said.

“We don’t,” Jon agreed. “But I might be able to.” He looked to Martin.

“What if trying to know alerts the Fears to our presence here?” Martin asked. “Like taking a statement would.”

“Good point,” Jon said.

“If they already know we’re here, it doesn’t matter,” the Doctor said. “And if they don’t… well, haven’t you tried to ‘know’ things before, to no effect?”

“I think it might be good to try,” Polgara said. “If this base of operations is compromised, we need to move to another.”

“The TARDIS can accommodate all of us,” the Doctor said. “There are any number of black holes we can hide in if this one isn’t safe anymore. So if Jon’s attempt alerts the Fears, then we will have to go. I agree with Polgara. It’s very important that we know whether the base is compromised.”

There was nodding around the table.

“Everyone go get anything you’d want to take with you,” the Doctor said.

“Shouldn’t we evacuate the whole station?” Brianna said. “It would be cruel to leave them to the Fears.”

“What about the animals?” Martin said. “The… cows and whatnot?”

“No,” the Doctor said. “The TARDIS has plenty of space, but… she’s easy to get lost in.”

“Doctor, I am not leaving them here,” Brianna said. “I’ll stay with them if I have to. You don’t need me—I’m not magical.”

He looked at her, and the ruthlessness on his face softened a bit.

“We’ll evacuate the people,” he said. “No animals.”

“Except for Orb,” Eriond put in.

The Doctor ignored him. “Let Director Garrison know. We’ll take thirty minutes, brief the station on what’s happened, load everyone into the TARDIS and then Jon can reach out to our good friends the Fears and see if they can tell him what happened to Mendanbar.”

Martin sat next to Jon as they watched the last of the frightened inhabitants of the station board the TARDIS.

He leaned over. “See what happens when we think things through?”

Jon looked slightly offended.

“Hey, imagine how bad you’d feel if you’d just gone ahead and then gotten all of them eaten by the Fears.”

Jon smiled. “Alright,” he said. “You win. You’re right, as usual.”

“Say that again.”

“I love you,” Jon said instead. “And you’re very smart. And I’m lucky to have you around to stop me doing impulsive things that I’ll regret later.”

Martin beamed, flattered, vindicated, charmed all in one. Jon smiled back, then looked away, nervous again.

“How are you feeling?” Martin asked. “You haven’t had any alphabet soup yet today. We forgot.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Jon said. “I think it blocks my connection to the Eye, or at least interferes badly.”

“Right,” Martin said, then caught Rung, who had come through the hole in the wall, looking at them. Martin waved him over.

Rung carefully made his way to them.

He was so big compared to regular people. And he claimed to be on the smaller side, for his giant robot race, which was insane.

“Hello Jon, Martin,” he said.

“Hey,” Martin said. “Uh… how are you going to get into the TARDIS?”

“I’m not,” Rung said. “On the way in, I held on to the outside and it sort of dragged me, but if this goes poorly, the next destination will be the bare inside of a black hole. The vacuum of space doesn’t bother me, but a black hole’s not so hospitable. I’ll be staying here.

Jon looked concerned.

“Jon,” Rung said firmly. “We need to find out if the station is compromised. It isn’t your fault that I have to stay behind if it is.”

Jon didn’t look happy about that. “What if this compromises the station?”

Rung sighed. “It still isn’t your fault. We can hope that we’re safe. And if we’re not… Well, we can hope you’ll be able to stop the Fears. And if you can’t, then it still isn’t your fault. If this team can’t stop them, then maybe someone else will someday. And if not, well, all of the suffering does not cancel out all the good that’s ever been in every universe. Hardships come for all of us.”

Jon took a deep breath. “I know,” he said. “I just… if it comes to it, I… I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Rung said. “That’s very kind.”

The Doctor came over. “Everyone’s loaded on,” he said. “It’s time.”

Jon nodded, then looked over. “Martin… you might want to get on the TARDIS.”

Martin swallowed. “Are you… sure?”

“Please,” Jon said. “I have to do this, but you don’t need to be here.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I… but you promise you’ll get on the TARDIS if we’re compromised.”

“I promise,” Jon said.

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor said. “I won’t leave him behind.”

“Just go,” Jon said.

Martin got up and walked away, glancing back a few times to see Jon waiting, smiling at him.

He stepped through the door of the TARDIS, feeling ill. He didn’t want to look at the other people gathered in the control room.

“Hey,” Brianna said. “Are you—”

A scream cut her off.

Jon.

Martin turned back to the door, shaking.

“Martin.”

Another cry split the air.

No.

No, this was not okay.

Martin rushed back out the door with Brianna at his heels.

Jon sat doubled over on the chair, head cradled in his hands. He lurched again as Martin hurried toward them, with yet another agonized cry.

“Jon!” Martin nearly tripped over an abandoned chair.

The Doctor blocked his way. “Martin, wait. Don’t interrupt him.”

“Don’t touch me!” Martin shoved past him and grabbed Jon’s shoulders. “Jon, stop! Jon!”

Jon gasped, then slumped forward farther, breathing heavily.

Martin knelt in front of him, still holding his shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly. “Jon?”

Jon looked up, face drawn. “Martin, I’d almost found him.”

Martin shook his head “You—”

“I was fine,” Jon said.

“You didn’t sound fine!”

“Oh, you know me,” Jon said. “Big, dramatic baby. I’m alright, Martin.”

Martin looked down.

“What did you see?” the Doctor asked.

“One moment,” Jon said, and took Martin’s face in his hands. “Look at me.”

Martin looked up.

“We’re okay. I’m alright.”

“You’re alright,” Martin repeated.

“Yes.”

“Sorry I—”

“No,” Jon said. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Martin took in a deep breath. “Is the base compromised?”

“No,” Jon said. “I don’t think so.”

Martin let out a sigh of relief, and got up so he could sit on the chair next to Jon and put an arm around him, still feeling shaky.

Jon addressed the Doctor with quiet frankness. “I couldn’t find Mendanbar,” he said. “I saw him, but I’m not sure if he was still on the station or not. He might still be… sort of. The Spiral did take him. But...I think that was more him than the Spiral. He went looking—recognized the Fears influencing the base. They’re not very strong here. Their power is limited—and so is my vision. They’re definitely… here, but I think… I wouldn’t say we’re safe. It still might be… well, obviously, it’s dangerous. Mendanbar could tell you that. It still might be a good idea to relocate. But I don’t think we’re in immediate danger of a full-on attack.”

The Doctor nodded.

“I would recommend,” Jon continued. “Turning off the cameras on the observation deck.”

The Doctor frowned.

“I know,” Jon said. “You want to watch it. But that’s… that’s not a good thing. We’re all weak to one Fear or another, Doctor. And… I’m almost certain that’s how they’re leaking in. I’ve had a strange experience of some sort every time I’ve been in there. With the flower garland, we can observe the Fears directly, from the TARDIS if we need to check in on them. But having them constantly in our sight is what’s really going to compromise the base. It’s not safe.”

“Alright,” the Doctor said reluctantly “We’ll shut them off.”

Martin felt more than heard Jon let out a relieved sigh.

“I’ll… go tell everyone we’re not evacuating,” Brianna said. “Unless we still are.”

The Doctor seemed to consider it. “We aren’t,” he said. “But tell them to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’m going to go shut off those monitors.”

Both of them left.

“You’re not doing that again,” Martin said quietly.

Jon didn’t argue.

“Let’s go back to the apartment and get you some alphabet soup. You look exhausted.”

“Fine,” Jon said, and got to his feet, swaying slightly.

They followed the Doctor out of the room as the first of the station inhabitants exited the TARDIS. Martin stayed close to Jon in case he stumbled.

“Really, what’s gotten into you?” Jon asked, sounding annoyed. “You never used to be so concerned if I got hurt. I… well, I’m not even hurt, really.”

“I just…” Martin thought about Jon on the hospital bed with a tube in his nose, waking less and less frequently. “I don’t…” Jon with a knife in his chest, bleeding. Still bleeding. “...can we not…?” Steven was gone, maybe even dead. Now if something happened...

Jon stopped, annoyance flipping to concern in a moment. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Martin stopped as well, and shook his head.

“Look,” Jon said. “I’m not saying I don’t like the attention. I just…” he sighed, and reached out. “Come here.”

Martin stepped into the embrace, and pulled Jon tightly to him, then let go when his boyfriend flinched, breath catching.

“What was that?” Martin demanded.

“What?” Jon said, looking guilty.

“You… are you still hurt?”

“No. Martin, I’m fine.”

“Then what was that?”

“Can we not argue here, please?”

The hall was filling with people, walking past with their friends and family, grim despite the false alarm.

“Fine,” Martin said. “Let’s go back to the apartment. But you are telling me the truth.”

“Fine!” Jon snapped, and sulked off down the hall.

Martin pushed through the increasing crowd to keep up with him. “Jon!”

“You know what’s frustrating?” Jon rounded on him. “When I am in pain, and on top of that I have to comfort you about it and insist I’m fine because—”

He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. Martin tried to catch him, but he was too late and Jon ended up in a heap on the floor.

There was a ringing in Jon’s ears.

He couldn’t move. Someone was calling his name… Martin? Was that…? He felt dizzy. He couldn’t open his eyes but the room spun anyway. He could feel it spinning, though he couldn’t feel anything else. Not the cold tiles beneath him, or Martin shaking him, or the knife still embedded in his chest.

Oblivion came for him and he had one terrible moment as it came, to regret his last words.

“Just this morning. Just this morning, we shared a mug of tea, and… and it was sweet, and we were sort of happy even with all the awful things… and then just an couple hours later he’s sitting in a chair, screaming in pain because he’s trying to use his powers to find Mendanbar, and now… now he’s back in the medical wing, and they don’t know if he’s even going to make it. All in the span of one morning.” Martin buried his face in his hands again.

Rung watched, giving him time, listening.

“And this is just… like a normal day for us now.”

Rung nodded sympathetically.

Martin rubbed at his puffy eyes. “I don’t…” his voice went calm. “Is it terrible that I wish I could just go home? Just... walk away and not have to deal with any of this."

"I don't think that's terrible."

"Well, I do," Martin said. "And don't tell Jon I said that. He'd probably jump at the chance to get rid of me—send me off somewhere safe where I can't stop him from getting himself killed... not that I've done a good job at that. God, I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

“Keep doing what, exactly?” Rung asked.

“I don't know," Martin said. "Caring, I guess. I know it really wasn't his fault, but he keeps... ending up in comas. And I... one of these times he might not wake up. One of these times he might not come back. And then what? I mean, I know we're trying to save the universe, but if he dies... then..." Martin sighed. "I don't know if it's worth it, for me. But I can't stop him, so it'd be easier to just..."  

Rung tilted his head to the side. “Are you… thinking about breaking up with him?”

“What? No!” Martin said. “No, no, no, I can't break up with him. I couldn’t do that to him, not on top of everything else he’s dealing with. He loves me. No one’s ever… cared about me like that before. He… he needs me. There’s just… I'm just feeling a little hopeless about everything, I think.”

Rung nodded. “It’s understandable,” he said. “To feel trapped and helpless because of Jon’s situation.”

Martin took a deep breath and looked up.

“You’ve been having a very hard day,” Rung said. "I'm glad you don't plan to break up with Jon. But... you know you can if you want to."

Martin shook his head. 

"The way you talked about it makes it sound like you think you owe him a relationship, which isn't true." 

"I don't want... I don't want to break up with him," Martin said. "Okay? I never said that. Yes, I'm frustrated with him, and I'm frustrated with the situation, and he's mad at me too—or he was before he passed out."

"Okay," Rung said. “You mentioned you were arguing when he collapsed. Was that about his decision to try to look for Mendanbar?”

“No… sort of?” Martin said. “He… he said he was tired of comforting me, when he’s the one who gets hurt.” He looked down. “I… I guess I’ve been sort of… overbearing. It’s just… He clearly doesn't want me to care if he... But I'm the one who... I feel like it's my fault every time...”

Rung frowned. “You feel guilty every time he gets hurt?”

Martin hesitated, then nodded. “I know it’s not… it’s not always connected to—to the wound… but I still feel bad. I just… I just want him to be okay, but I… it was me holding the knife...”

Rung nodded. He wished Jon wasn’t unconscious—he wished he could talk to both of them. He wished they would talk to each other about this. The Doctor switching the monitors off on the observation deck had been bad timing.

“Have you… I know this probably isn’t the best time to ask, but have you tried talking to Jon about this? It seems like important context that might help him understand why you’ve been so anxious about him.”

“I… he won’t even let me apologize,” Martin said. “For the whole… stabbing thing. He says it was his fault, and that I shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

Rung sighed. “Martin, you feel how you feel. There’s no should or shouldn’t about feelings.”

Martin frowned. “It’s Jon who needs to hear that.”

“I’m sure,” Rung said. 

“It’s just… hard to talk to him about this stuff. He won’t let me… be wrong about anything, until it builds up and he snaps at me.” Martin shook his head.

"But he loves you. And he needs your support, right?" Rung smiled slightly.

"Hey," Martin said. "I love him too. And... well, he’s not really in a position to offer much support right now, but that isn’t his fault. And he has in the past.”

“Tell me about that,” Rung said. 

Martin took a moment to think about it before answering. “You already know about the whole Lonely rescuing thing. But I don't think I've told you about the first time Jon helped me out. Back when… way back in the beginning, when I first got hired at the Magnus Institute, we just investigated spooky stories, instead of living them. It was… kind of a nice job. I was lucky to have it, at least. Back then… Jon wasn’t very nice to me to start with. I did sort of like him anyway, but it was a… well, it wasn’t anything serious. More of a game almost, where if you’re cheerful and helpful and obliviously nice enough, maybe your cute, angry boss will have a change of heart and stop saying hurtful things about you. And, at least in the meantime, all your other co-workers will feel sorry for you.” Martin shook his head. “God, I was pathetic, wasn’t I?”

Rung narrowed his optics. “That version of you was doing his best,” he reminded.

Martin took in a deep breath. “Thanks,” he said. “Um… oh, yeah. Well, it wasn’t my being friendly or helpful that changed how Jon treated me. It was… well, it was me needing his help. I… this worm lady was sort of stalking me, and I didn’t think Jon would believe me but he did, and he was… I could tell he was genuinely worried about me, and he let me stay at the archives where it was safer. And that’s… you know, I think that’s what really did it. That’s when I think I really started to fall for him. Anyway, there you go. He has supported me, when he could. There are other examples I could give you, but that… that one’s my favorite, because… I don’t know, it showed me a different side of him.”

Rung nodded. “Is Jon… generally nicer to you now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Martin said. “And he has apologized for how he acted in the beginning. Many times.”

“That’s good,” Rung said. “Out of curiosity... why didn't you expect him to believe you?”

“He never believed any of the stories people told us—at least he pretended not to,” Martin said. “Why does that matter? It’s just… his personality. You know, acting like he doesn’t care to hide the fact that he probably cares more than anyone.”

Rung frowned. 

"Not very healthy, honestly," Martin said. "Glad he's sort of grown out of that."

"Yes," Rung said. "He does seem to care quite deeply about people."

"Yeah, you didn't know him before. He was such an ass. But at least he did care, deep down..." Martin trailed off, frowning.  

Rung watched his face carefully, concerned. "Martin?"

“You know... I always gravitated toward people who hated me,” He said. “Jon wasn’t the first one, but it was always... people who didn’t want me around. People who found me annoying—who wanted nothing to do with me... kind of like my mum…”

“Martin?” Rung said gently. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. You’ve had—”

“Did I—?” Martin shook his head. “Did I only like Jon in the beginning because of my… unhealthy relationship with her?”

“Perhaps that influenced it,” Rung said. “That relationship with your mother—the hurt and the trauma from it—is carried over into other aspects of your life. That’s not unusual. But that doesn’t invalidate your entire relationship with Jon.”

Martin looked down.

“In fact, I think—”

“She was ill a lot,” Martin said quietly. “I wonder if that’s… I hate hospitals. I hate that Jon… that he’s just constantly in and out of the medical wing. It… I can’t believe… did I like him because he was mean to me?”

“I want to point out,” Rung said. “That while you may have initially been drawn to him because of the similarity to the way your mother treated you, it was the difference—”

“He didn’t care that much,” Martin said. “He just… didn’t want me to die because he was a decent human being, and because… because of his own trauma. And… and that all makes sense. We didn’t know each other, we just… worked together. It wasn’t really that special.”

“Martin…”

“But… but my mum…” He shut his eyes. “She was… she was supposed to…” He choked off, and buried his face in his hands.

Rung wished he’d tried harder to steer the conversation away from this. Sometimes Rung envied humans their built-in families, but they often seemed so messy and complicated... It was important for Martin to process his feelings about his mother—this person who had failed him so completely—but Rung wished it hadn't been today. He was confident that he could help his patient work through it, but it would be a difficult conversation, and the only person here who Martin was close enough to turn to for comfort after this session was unconscious and might not wake for days.

Chapter Text

Jon woke up feeling… different.

Everything looked… odd. So real and normal that it seemed fake. He felt blind even though he could see. The IV drip that held the alphabet soup wasn’t swirling enough. The cabinets looked flat and empty from the outside. The depth to things was missing. It was like he was watching a movie or looking at a picture of a room. The room might exist, but he had not proof—just a surface level reconstruction.

What did this mean? It felt familiar somehow…

He ought to be dead.

He remembered passing out. He’d thought he was dying…

Martin..

Martin wasn’t here. His chair was empty.

Jon tried to sit up, but a lightning bolt of pain shot through his chest and he collapsed back onto the bed with a gasp and lay still, letting it throb for a moment before checking to find that the wound wasn’t bleeding.

So that hadn’t changed.

Something had, though. Why had he passed out? Had… the Doctor had gone to turn the screens off on the observation deck—the screens that had provided a narrow path into the station for the Fears.

Maybe Jon should have realized that suddenly cutting the station off from its limited connection would have an effect on him.

Curious, he reached out to try to know something—anything. He braced himself for pain, but there was none. There was nothing at all. He wasn’t even sure he was doing it right. He didn’t even know how to know things.

He… had thought he was mostly cut off from the Eye, but the connection must have been stronger than he’d thought. Maybe it had just felt weak because of the alphabet soup.

This was what it actually felt like to be cut off from the Eye.

It was… well, he felt exhausted, but it was… sort of nice, at the same time.

He was hungry—god he was hungry. And it was a normal hungry, not statement hungry. It was normal tired, not that soul-deep desperate weakness that came from his insufficient connection.

Was he… normal again?

No. The invisible knife was still stuck in his chest, and he was still on the alphabet soup. He might be able to die now, though. He should be more careful about that. In fact, he’d probably have to be more diligent about staying connected to the IV.

He tried to sit up again and managed it this time. He used the little remote to call for a nurse, and she brought Dr. Hale to tell him pretty much what he had already guessed. He’d collapsed when the Doctor had turned the screens off. He was much more dependent on the alphabet soup.

He interrupted to ask them to bring him some food, which Dr. Hale seemed surprised and pleased about.

He asked to leave, but Dr. Hale said it was better for him to stay for a day or two.

He needed Martin here, or at least Brianna. He was probably going to need the wheelchair to sneak out. He wasn’t strong enough to walk to the apartment.

He fell asleep waiting for someone to stop by.

He started to worry the next day when he was still alone. Martin apparently hadn’t come to see him since the last day of his coma. He wasn’t sure Martin even knew he was awake. But…

They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. Jon had snapped at him about something stupid—about Martin being worried.

He needed to apologize, but… he wouldn’t blame Martin for avoiding him.

Finally, around mid-morning, Brianna and the Doctor showed up.

“I assume based on what happened to you that turning the screens off successfully cut us off from the Fears,” the Doctor said.

“Also, how are you?” Brianna added.

“Yes,” Jon said. “And… alright.”

“We’re working on a plan,” the Doctor said. “Once you’re out of here, we’ll run it by you.”

Jon nodded. “Dr. Hale says I can be released later today.”

“Tomorrow, then,” the Doctor said. “If you can make the meeting.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Is there anything you need?” Brianna asked.

“Well… I could use some help in… leaving the medical wing?”

“Before you’re discharged?” Brianna asked in mock horror.

“Anything you need from me?” the Doctor asked.

“No. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for anything,” the Doctor said tiredly and left.

Jon frowned. “What was that about?” he asked.

Brianna looked down. “I… think he actually might feel bad for everything he’s put you through. You… almost died, you know. And… well, the plan they’re working on is… risky, especially without Steven.”

“Great,” Jon muttered. “Um… have you seen Martin? He hasn’t come to visit me, and I… well, I would understand if he’s mad at me, but I’m starting to worry about him.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I saw him in the dining hall yesterday. He seemed… sort of depressed. Didn’t really act like he wanted to talk, so I let him be.”

That was concerning.

“Come on,” Brianna rolled the wheelchair over. “Let’s go find him.”

Jon found he could stand and walk alright, but he sat in the wheelchair anyway, not wanting to risk it.

They slipped out, with Jon dragging the IV stand along with him.

“Sorry I didn’t come to see you,” Brianna said. “I didn’t realize Martin hadn’t.”

“It’s alright,” Jon said. “How are things on the station?”

“Good,” Brianna said. “I felt it too when he turned off the screens. It was like a weight lifted. And I’m not the only one.”

Jon nodded. “I should have realized it might…”

“Almost kill you?” Brianna said. “Yeah, we probably should have thought of that.”

“Did King Mendanbar turn up?”

“No,” Brianna said. “He’s still missing. And we’ve gone looking for Steven a couple times, but no luck.”

Jon sighed. “I hope… I hope Mendanbar isn’t… well…”

“Dead?” Brianna said. “Yeah. It’s been… what, five days?”

“Does that mean… did the Spiral take him all the way out of the black hole?”

Brianna shrugged. “I don’t know. I just hope he’s okay”

“Yes,” Jon said, then sighed. “We saw him run off. We… I should have stopped him. I was just so distracted by the fact that Steven…”

“It’s not your fault, Jon,”

“But I might have been able to stop him.”

“Any of us could have,” Brianna said. “We were all distracted. Losing Steven… aside from how awful that is—he’s still a teenager, I’m pretty sure—it’s a heavy blow for all of us.” She shook her head. “Even for trivial reasons. Orb is… not doing well. Something about this environment must not be good for him, or the diet. He’s been lethargic, just curled up in the corner of my kitchen drawer.”

“I’m… sorry to hear it.”

“It’s not really that important,” Brianna said. “I just… feel bad we took him from his natural habitat.”

“Don’t,” Jon said. “He’d be having a much worse time there, believe me.”

“Right,” Brianna said. “I keep forgetting.”

“You did your best for him,” Jon said. “How is Eriond taking it?”

“Not great,” Brianna said. “I think it's at least partly because it’s another reason to miss Steven, though. I think they were starting to become pretty good friends. You know, both of them grew up without a lot of people their age around, and then found out they’re basically gods. I think they really bonded over that. I… Eriond’s sort of tried to heal Orb, but it didn’t do anything.”

Jon looked down.

“Healing was Steven’s thing.” Brianna said.

“I could still… I could still find him if the Doctor would take me to look for him.”

“He’s… scared,” Brianna said. “I think he believes you’re the only one who can stop the Fears, because of your connection to them. He won’t risk letting them take you.”

Of course.

They got to the apartment. Brianna tried the knob and found it unlocked. “I’m just next door,” she said as she pushed the wheelchair inside. “So give a shout if you need anything, alright?”

“Thank you,” Jon said, looking around for Martin, who was sitting on the couch, staring over at them.

“See you later,” Brianna left.

“Jon!” Martin got up from the couch as Jon stood from the chair. “You’re awake!”

“I’ve been awake since yesterday,” Jon said, and met Martin a few steps from the wheelchair.

“No one told me!” Martin said, pulling him into a warm, gentle embrace. Jon buried his face in Martin’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry…”

“No,” Jon said. “Oh, Martin, can you ever forgive me for what I was saying just before—”

“Of course,” Martin said. “Of course I can.”

“If… if those had been the last words I ever said to you…”

“Don’t,” Martin said. “Please.”

“I thought they would be for a moment.”

“No,” Martin held him more tightly. “I missed you.”

Jon let himself relax into the warmth, the solidity of him. “I love you.”

Martin let go. “Come sit down. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m… okay. I’m just actually cut off from the Eye now.” He let Martin lead him to the couch and they sat down together.

“How is that?”

“Strange. But… not really bad. What about you? Were you just… sitting by yourself on the couch all morning? Are you alright?”

Martin shrugged. “I… yeah, it’s been a rough few days.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, and leaned against him. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Martin hesitated.

“What I said,” Jon told him. “I didn’t mean any of it. I… I’m here for you if you’re upset about anything. I don’t care what. I… even if you’re upset about me, or angry at me.”

“Thanks,” Martin said dully, and put an arm around Jon’s shoulders. Jon waited, not sure what else to say.

“Well…” Martin said. “You collapsing wasn’t fun. You really gave us a scare. And the alphabet soup wasn’t doing enough—they had to increase the concentration by a lot. But… you stabilized eventually”

Jon shut his eyes.

“And then I had a hard session with Rung.”

“Really? What did you talk about?”

Martin sighed. “I… my mum.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “I’m sorry.”

“In… in the context of… I don’t know, in the context of our relationship, and how you...”

Jon swallowed, not sure what to say.

“I just… I held on so long to the idea that someday… someday there’d be proof she… she actually loved me. But…”

Jon leaned in harder, lacing his fingers with Martin’s. “You deserved someone who took care of you and loved you.”

“I didn’t want someone to,” Martin said quietly. “I wanted her to.”

Jon nodded, thinking about the parents he didn’t even remember. He still sometimes wondered what it would have been like… and his childhood trauma didn’t hold a candle to Martin’s. At least he’d had his grandmother. Martin… Martin had gotten stuck in the role of caring for his ailing and abusive mother.

Now he was stuck taking care of Jon.

Martin took a deep breath and sighed it out softly. “Anyway, then you were still in a coma, and I didn’t… I didn’t really have anyone to talk to or anything to do. They don’t need me for anything, I’m just… here.”

Jon shook his head. “You’re not just here,” he said.

Martin looked away.

“No, look at me. Martin, I need you here, and more importantly, I want you here. I’m… I’m sorry I was gone again. I didn’t have much warning on that one.”

Martin sighed. “I’m just glad you’re back. I love you, Jon.”

Jon kissed him. “I’m glad to be back,” he said. “And I love you too.”

Martin finally looked happier, more himself.

“I’m going to go change out of this,” Jon plucked at his hospital gown sleeve. “And maybe shower, if I think I have the energy.”

“Are you sure? If you fall down and hit your head or something…”

“You’ll hear, and come help me,” Jon said.

“Is that something you know?”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Jon kissed him again and got up to walk to the bedroom, unclipping his IV so he could change without getting it tangled in anything.

Martin didn’t feel like going to the dining hall for breakfast. He wouldn’t have done so except Jon had—with his genuine loss of connection to the Eye—started to actually crave food again.

It was a relief—coaxing him to eat had been stressful and difficult.

They took the wheelchair, and it was a good thing they did because Jon got tired after just two minutes of walking and had to sit down He was chatty at first, commenting on how different he felt now that the Fears weren’t able to influence the station. Martin was glad, and tried to show it, but he could tell Jon was worried, and they both fell silent long before they reached the dining hall.

Jon had slept most of yesterday. They’d chatted, Jon had napped for several hours, and then woken up ravenous, so they’d gone to dinner with Brianna, Sophie, Eriond, and Polgara, who’d speculated and worried over Orb.

Martin had joined in here and there, trying to act normal for Jon’s benefit, but he could tell his boyfriend was worried about him.

It was just… hard.

It hadn’t been a good four days. Jon had been in a coma again, and the only reason anyone else had even cared was because they were worried they wouldn’t be able to sacrifice him to stop the Fears.

And Martin knew that the fate of the entire multiverse was more important than one person, but he really wished that person wasn’t Jon.

Because what was he supposed to do if Jon died? He had nowhere to go. If they took him home, then what? There was nothing for him there. He had no family left, no real friends. He hadn’t gotten to know any of his newer co-workers because after Tim had died, the whole Lonely thing had happened, and after that there’d been an apocalypse.

So going home… going home would be no different from going anywhere else.

He’d have to start over, regardless.

And how could he?

How could he start over after everything that had happened? Maybe… maybe he could have them drop him off somehwere, and just…

Just…

The dining hall was bustling. They’d hit at peak traffic time, apparently. Martin looked for anyone they knew and saw most of the hero group sitting together at the end of a table.

Martin wheeled Jon over and then left to get them both plates of food.

He watched them from the queue.

Jon said something that made Sophie and Brianna laugh. It… it really wasn’t fair. They all barely knew each other, and they were already friends. Even Jon—standoffish, rude, antisocial Jon made friends more easily than Martin did. Wasn’t Martin friendly enough? Wasn’t he kind enough? Why was it so hard for him to make real connections?

He got food and made his way back to the table, where Sophie scooted over to make room for him next to Jon.

Jon smiled at him, but his eyes searched Martin’s face in an anxious way. Martin didn’t want to talk to him, so he just turned his attention to his food. There was some sort of melon, eggs as usual, and sausage and toast.

Jon finished his plate and then looked longingly at everyone else’s food, so Martin went and got him some more.

“You coming to the meeting?” Sophie asked politely as he sat back down.

“Uh… I don’t know.” He really didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure if…

“I’ll be there,” Brianna said. “So you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,” Martin said.

The two of them left.

Jon slowed down—he probably wouldn’t make it through his second plate.

Martin sighed, watching him. “I guess I’ll go to the meeting with you,” he said. “Someone has to push you there anyway.”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “Let’s go back to the apartment.”

Martin frowned. “But…”

“I don’t care,” Jon said. “I… I want to talk.”

Great. Had he finally decided to stop casting worried looks in Martin’s direction and actually ask what was wrong?

Martin wasn’t even sure what to tell him. Everything was wrong. But it was nothing new, nothing different, just…

He didn’t know why it was so much worse now.

He wheeled Jon back to the apartment, and they went to sit on the couch, in silence. Martin didn’t want to look at Jon, who sat cross-legged on the next cushion over, sideways, facing him, watching with worried eyes that were somehow dimmer than normal, but maybe more alert. More focused on him.

Martin waited, still trying to formulate an answer to the inevitable ‘what’s wrong?'

But Jon broke the silence with “What can I do?” instead.

Martin turned to look at him.

Jon looked like he wanted to say something more, but then seemed to think better of it.

“What can you do?” Martin repeated.

Jon nodded.

“Well, for starters, you could stop spending days or weeks at a time in a coma. How many times has it been now? Four or five at least.”

Silence fell again.

“Sorry,” Martin said. “That… that came out harsher than I meant it to. I know you’re not doing that on purpose.”

“It’s alright,” Jon said. “I left you again, and not on good terms. I’m very sorry for that.”

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Martin said. “But… I can’t help but think it won’t be for long. Didn’t you say last night they were going to tell you what their plan is today?”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“And it’s going to be like all their other plans, Jon. It’s going to put you in danger, and they don’t even have Steven to heal you if something happens…”

“You’re… probably right.”

“I can’t… Jon, I cant’ hope for… I don’t know what will happen, but the more I hope for things to turn out, the more losing you will hurt. Do you understand?”

Jon sighed. “Yes,” he said.

“So I just… I don’t know. I feel sort of… dull, about the whole thing. Distant, I guess.”

Jon frowned. “Like… the Lonely?”

“Yeah, sort of,” Martin said. “Only it can’t be, because the Doctor turned the screens off… I… well, even before the archives, I… felt like this sometimes. Just… depressed, I guess.”

Jon reached over and took his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s not really your fault,” Martin said. “But thanks.”

“What… would you like to do today?” Jon asked.

“Hmm?”

“We could go outside, have another picnic with the cows? Or… just stay in and watch movies...”

Martin frowned at him. “Don’t you have to go to the meeting?”

Jon shook his head. “You’re more important.”

“What about their plan?”

“It can wait a day. Unless you’re curious.”

“No,” Martin said. “Brianna offered to tell me, but… I didn’t want to hear it, not with you already…”

“Right,” Jon said. “Well? What’ll it be?”

Martin shrugged. He wasn’t sure he felt like doing… anything, really.”

“I can make you some tea while you decide,” Jon offered. “Um… we could… somewhere new, maybe? I don’t know. I feel like I’ve explored the whole station.”

“We can just stay here.”

“Alright—”

There was a knock at the door.

Jon sighed. “I’ll get it.”

Martin watched as he got up and walked to the door. It was really sweet of him to try and make Martin feel better, but… that was part of the problem. The closer they were, the more Martin was afraid of losing him.

It was Brianna at the door.

“Hey,” she said. “They’re all waiting for you at the meeting.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “Uh…”

“Go,” Martin told him.

They both looked at him.

“Go ahead,” Martin continued. “I know you want to know about the plan. I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll… um, I’ll think of something I want to do while you’re gone. It might take me that long.”

Jon hesitated.

“I know you want to show me how much you care about me,” Martin said. “But really, I… I need to think on my own for a bit.”

“...no,” Jon said.

“Please, Jon. I’ll be alright for an hour or two. Really. Just go.”

Martin saw the struggle on his face, but he really did want a few hours to think. It was strange, having Jon back all of a sudden, and Jon without the Eye was… well, almost too attentive. It was a little ironic in some ways, but made sense in others. When he was connected to the Eye, he was preoccupied.

Jon held up a finger for Brianna to wait a moment, and then came back over, to crouch in front of Martin.

“Think of something,” he said, looking seriously into Martin’s eyes. “Anything. And I mean that. Anything you want to do. Anywhere you want to go, even off the station. I’ll bully the Doctor into taking us in the TARDIS.”

Martin hesitated, then nodded.

Jon stood, and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, and left, letting Brianna push him in the wheelchair.

Some time after he left—Martin wasn’t sure exactly how long—he managed to work up the motivation to get up off the couch and make himself a cup of tea.

What did he want to do? Going outside might be nice. Going to a real outside would be nicer, but he didn’t want to trouble the Doctor to take them in the TARDIS, no matter what Jon was willing to do. He imagined for a moment Jon vowing to refuse to help them with the Fears if the Doctor didn’t take him and Martin on holiday to France.

But no, being around big crowds of poor, oblivious people from some universe as yet untouched by the Fears, or in the past of this one, would probably make things worse. Staying in and watching movies from the station’s extensive collection would be less effort. And maybe Jon wouldn’t try to talk to him as much.

That seemed like a better idea.

Martin took his tea back to sit on the couch. He turned on the big flat screen set into the wall and flipped absently through the different options. They were mostly unfamiliar titles, though there were a few “classics of ancient Earth” that he recognized.

That was funny. Wasn’t Brianna from a close to current Earth? He thought he could remember Jon asking about it at one point, and the Doctor explaining that the station was from the future, but that they’d fallen into the past when they’d entered the black hole. He couldn’t quite remember. This whole place was scientifically ridiculous in any case. He wondered if different universes played by different rules entirely.

Were there places that were immune to the Fears—so grounded in the laws of nature that supernatural things never happened? Were there universes that were particularly susceptible? This one—this one might be one of those, since everything seemed to play loose with the rules anyway.

Jon came back eventually, with a plate of sandwiches and a big fake smile on his face. He didn’t offer to tell Martin what the plan was and Martin didn’t ask, just said he wanted to stay in and watch a film or two.

Cuddling on the couch was nice. They had a hard time deciding on a film, though, and Jon fell asleep half an hour in, with his head on Martin’s shoulder.

He was so peaceful as he slept. His face seemed softer, younger. Martin watched him breathe, brushed his hair out of his face. He did feel better with Jon here. Whatever happened… today, things were okay. Today his boyfriend was sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, and the station was free from the Fears and nothing terrible—probably—was going to happen.

If only today could last forever.

A painful tug in his arm woke Jon up. He blinked his eyes open and found he’d somehow gotten tangled up in his IV line. He carefully extracted himself and sat up. It wasn’t bleeding or anything, and the needle still seemed to be in place, but he had run out of alphabet soup, so he stumbled over to the cupboard where they had extra, and swapped out the bag hanging from the stand.

Then he went back to sit on the couch.

Martin was asleep, head lolling to the side, snoring quietly. Jon carefully leaned against him, trying not to wake him… wanting to wake him.

He felt terrible, really. As much of a mess as he was, he thought he’d be a lot worse if their positions were reversed—if it was Martin being used by the Doctor and the heroes—if it was Martin’s life in danger. He could barely even imagine… he’d be losing his mind.

It was bad enough to think about dying. It was an entirely different thing to imagine being left behind, once again unable to protect the people around him—the people he loved.

Martin stirred and Jon held still half hoping Martin was just shifting positions, half hoping he would wake fully.

Martin yawned and stretched. “Whatimeisit?” he mumbled.

“Um…” Jon checked the clock on the wall. “Almost six. We were asleep a while.”

“We?” Martin said. “you were, for sure.”

“Right,” Jon said, and shook his head.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes. Sorry if I woke you.”

Martin stretched again and got up. “Back in a minute,” he said, and stumbled off toward the bathroom.

Jon ate one of the slightly stale sandwiches while he waited for Martin to come back. Then the two of them sat on the couch in silence for a while.

“How are you feeling?” Martin asked at length.

“Not bad,” Jon said. “Just swapped out the alphabet soup—it was out, and I was feeling a bit off,”

Martin nodded.

“How about you?”

“Better,” Martin said.

“I’m glad.”

Silence again. Not a comfortable silence—a painful, hesitant, anxious one.

Martin sighed. “It’s just going to hang over us,” he said. “Alright. Tell me about their plan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Like I said, it’s just going to hang over us. I’ll find out eventually.”

“Okay,” Jon said, and took in a deep breath. “It’s a bit complex, but I can probably simplify it. We’re… going to lure the Fears into an empty universe, damage them as much as we can, and then shut them in. Viktor is pretty sure he can open a gate between universes and close it again in such a way that the fabric of reality doesn’t get torn, and there won’t be a weak spot. So he’ll open a gate, and the Doctor will drop me off on a planet on the inside with a breatheable atmosphere. Well, mostly breatheable. Brianna says I’ll probably have to have an oxygen tank, as it usually takes life to make large quantities of O2 and the whole point of this universe is that it doesn’t have life. Anyway, that’s a tangent. Viktor will open a gate. I’ll go through, then call the Fears in after me, probably with some sort of statement—we’ll have to rescue someone from the Fears here. The Doctor thinks they can just sneak up and drop a flower crown on someone’s head, without the Fears figuring out what’s happened.

“Once I’ve lured the Fears in, Viktor will start closing the gate and I’ll keep the Fears distracted by the statement, and then by attacking them. The power is... well, it would be better to have Steven contributing, but... it should be enough to hurt them. Rung’s device can hold a lot of power, too. Much more than I can. And I’ll be able to channel all of that through myself to do significant damage to the Fears. We have to weaken them so they can’t punch through to another universe.

“Once I’ve used up all the stored power, the Doctor will come back for me. Viktor will keep the gate cracked so the TARDIS can get through, and then shut it completely as soon as we return. We’ll keep an eye on it, but the Fears ought to lose their power quickly, cut off from… well, anything that can possibly be afraid of them. So if they aren’t powerful enough to break through at first, they won’t be at all. And then they’ll die out. Cease to exist. And we’ll all be free.”

He watched Martin’s face carefully as he thought through the plan.

“What if…” Martin said. “What if you can’t keep them distracted? What if they immediately start trying to get back through the gate?”

Jon sighed. “Well… that’s a possibility,” he said. “In that case, Viktor will shut the gate as quickly as he can, and we think cutting the Fears off from their food source will shock them badly enough that I”ll be able to get the jump on them with the combined power, even if I was only partway through the statement.”

“They’ll trap you in there?” Martin said. “Just…”

“Well, they’ll come back for me and whoever gave the statement,” Jon said. “Once the Fears are gone. If the statement giver puts a flower crown on as soon as they’re done talking, then the Fears won’t be able to reach them, and will still die out.”

“Can you… even if Viktor doesn’t have to close the gate and trap you in there, can you survive that? Reconnecting in full, blasting them with ten times the power that basically made you blackout drunk, and then still being connected to them as they die?”

“Great question,” Jon said. “I-I don’t know, but probably not.”

Martin stared at him.

“Part of the plan,” Jon said. “Is that as soon as I’m in there, and the Fears are gone from this universe, the Doctor will try to look for Steven again. The TARDIS will probably be able to find him. Then, when it’s time to collect me, Steven can come along and heal me. My… my chances are pretty good, so long as they can find him. Of course… if Viktor has to close the gate—to strand me in there… it will take long enough for the Fears to die out… and long enough for Viktor to re-open the gate. That… that my chances of living drop off a bit.”

Martin shook his head.

“I didn’t want to sugarcoat it,” Jon said quietly.

“So if anything goes wrong with the plan, you end up trapped in a universe with just you and the Fears and… and some random civilian, for hours.”

“The random civilian will probably survive,” Jon said. “And well… maybe I will too. It’s not unreasonable to hope. And that’s all only if something goes wrong, or they can’t find Steven. Honestly, it could be a lot worse.”

“Well, it could be a lot better too,” Martin said.

“Yeah.” Jon sighed. “I know.” His heart broke to see the hope die out of Martin’s eyes again. To see him have to accept that this was the plan. “This… we’ve sort of known it would come down to something like this. I… don’t know if there’s any other way.”

“And if there was, you wouldn’t take it,” Martin said.

“That’s…”

“You didn’t last time. You promised if there was any other way… and then you just did things your way, like you were always going to.”

Jon reached out to put a hand on Martin’s shoulder, but Martin brushed him off.

“At least…” Jon said. “Well, I don’t know the odds, but at least there’s still a chance we both survive.”

“Right,” Martin said dully.

“I don’t know what you expected.”

“I expected this,” Martin said. “Something just like this.” He took a deep breath and got up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “Good idea. I—”

“Alone,” Martin specified.

“I… okay.”

“Don’t wait up for me.”

“Hold on,” Jon said. “Martin, I—”

A muffled shriek came through the wall.

They froze.

“Was that… from Brianna’s apartment?”

Martin hurried to the door and Jon followed, dragging the stupid IV stand behind him. They rushed next door and knocked.

Brianna opened the door after a few seconds. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“We heard…”

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “Sorry! I’m okay, I was just freaked out for a moment—more startled than anything.”

“What happened?” Jon demanded.

“Uh… come see for yourself. It’s… well, yeah. Come on.” She led them to her kitchenette. “They’re just a little spiky and I didn’t know what I was looking at at first.”

She opened her kitchen drawer to reveal a patch of thorny-looking black and white.

Jon leaned forward, trying to get a better look.

Martin gasped. “Eggs?” he said.

“Yep!” Brianna grinned. “Orb’s a girl, I guess. And that explains why she was acting strange.

“Is she alright?” Martin asked. “These… do not look pleasant to lay.”

“I think she’s asleep,” Brianna said, pointing in. “In the back corner there. I prodded her a bit and she didn’t move much.”

“Hmm,” Martin looked in. “I wish we still had… I hope these aren’t one of those races that dies after giving birth—like octopuses.”

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “I… well, maybe she’ll hang in there long enough for us to get Steven back. I… I should go let Eriond know, actually. You two are welcome to stay. Make yourselves at home—I’ll be right back.”

She rushed off before Jon or Martin could decline.

Maybe that was a good thing. Martin studied the eggs more closely. They looked nasty to Jon. Too spidery with how spiky they were. But he was glad Martin was distracted.

“I bet this keeps predators from eating them,” Martin said. “The spikes.”

“Maybe don’t touch them,” Jon said. “What if those are… I don’t know, poisonous.”

Martin snorted.

“I’m not joking. Those are alien bug eggs,” Jon said. “Who knows what they’ll do.”

Martin leaned closer to the drawer with a gasp. “Hey… she’s looking at me. Got her eyes open.” He reached in. “Hi Orb,” he said softly. “You a proud mum now?”

Jon sighed and sat down at Brianna’s little kitchen table, watching Martin talk to the little alien rock crab. Hopefully this would be enough of a distraction that he didn’t want to go off on a walk by himself. Because Jon couldn’t ask him not to. Jon wasn’t in a position to demand anything of Martin right now.

If Jon died…If he actually died this time…

Brianna came back with Eriond and Polgara. Eriond looked almost excited, and he and Martin admired the eggs together for a minute before he reached in and gently pulled Orb out of the drawer.

He handed her to Polgara, who took her gently and looked her over.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Eriond asked.

“I think so,” Polgara said, and handed her back to him. “Though you may want to keep her separate from her eggs.”

“Really? What if they need her?” Eriond asked.

“They look like they have their own defenses,” Brianna said. “So I doubt the parents stick around in the wild. And we don’t want her to try to eat them.”

That made sense.

“Here.” Brianna opened the next drawer over, and cleared out an armful of chocolate bars and crisp bags, dumping them on the counter. “Put her in here.”

Eriond did. Orb was awake, but still lethargic, and watched them with round, quivering eyes. Eriond stroked her smooth carapace until she shut her eyes, and then he carefully closed the drawer and bowed his head.

“Errand?” Polgara put a hand on his shoulder.

“Steven would have… been really excited about this,” he said. “We should… we should save at least one of the eggs for him… if they hatch.”

“Yes,” Brianna agreed. “We will. We’ll probably get him back before they hatch anyway—he can claim one.”

Eriond turned and hugged Polgara, and they all stood in awkward silence for a moment. It seemed strange that he was almost as tall as her, in a sort of gangly, teenager way.

“Here,” Brianna took a big chocolate bar from the pile. She unwrapped it and broke a piece off. “I bet if Steven was here, he would suggest we all need some chocolate.”

Eriond took it, and Polgara graciously accepted a piece too.

Jon could see Martin was about to refuse, so he got up from the table, and took the next square Brianna broke off, then snapped it in half and offered it to his boyfriend, who definitely needed some chocolate right now.

Martin sighed and relented, and they stood around, in silence, letting the warm, creamy milk chocolate melt in their mouths, comforting, sweet.

“You know,” Martin said. “If they hatch… I think I want one too.”

“Yeah,” Eriond said. “You can have one.”

Polgara sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to bring some with us.”

“I’ll have to make sure ‘Zakath’s cat doesn’t eat it,” Eriond said. “But you won’t have to worry about it. You won’t even be with me.”

Polgara looked a little said. “That’s true,” she said, then went stern again. “Now that I think about it… we can’t just bring creatures from other universes to ours. It could unbalance the systems of life on our world.”

“I’ll just keep Orb,” Eriond said. “And maybe… maybe one baby.”

Polgara sighed and shook her head. “Thank you,” she said to Brianna. “We’ll leave Orb in your competent care for now. Let us know if you need any help with her, but we ought to get some rest for now.”

Brianna nodded, and they left.

“We can go too,” Martin said.

Jon hesitated.

“Okay,” Brianna said. “I’m not kicking you out, though. It’s not really that late.”

“We could… stay and chat a bit,” Jon suggested.

Martin sighed. “I still want to go for a walk,” he said. “I… I need some space, okay?”

Jon looked down.

Martin left.

Brianna hissed a breath through her teeth. “Everything alright?” she asked.

“I told him about the plan,” Jon said. “He’s taking it… well, about as well as you could expect. I’m… I’m worried about him, but what can I… what can I say to him? I’m…” he shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

Brianna sighed. “Do you want me to go after him?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded. “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

“No worries,” Brianna said. “You’re welcome to stay here, or go back to your apartment.”

Jon nodded, and Brianna hurried off after Martin.

He sat back down at the table after she was gone, and put his head in his arms, trying not to think about anything.

Jon was gone when Brianna finally made it back to her apartment. She’d had a good chat with Martin. He… well, she could barely imagine what he was going through, but all things considered, he’d seemed… okay. He hadn’t wanted her there at first, but then he’d had more questions about the plan, and she’d filled him in, emphasizing every effort being put toward keeping Jon alive and getting him out safely.

He seemed appreciative, but she could tell he didn’t trust what she was saying.

They’d talked about other things after that. Similarities and differences between their two Earth’s from different universes, the station, speculations on Orb’s eggs, and things they both wondered about her species. Distracting things. Calming things. Deep things that had nothing to do with the situation.

And eventually, Martin had said he was pretty sure Jon would be asleep by now and he was ready to go back to his own apartment.

She didn’t see much of him, or Jon, the next few days. They were around. Jon came to the meetings, and she passed Martin occasionally in the halls or saw him at meals.

She had a lot of visitors who wanted to see Orb’s eggs, and everyone wanted to claim a baby. As far as she could count there were about two dozen eggs, but there was no guarantee they would actually hatch.

Orb, herself, seemed to recover a bit after a few days, and started eating again, which was comforting. Eggs were still her preferred food, but Brianna got her to nibble on a few other things as well. She seemed to like carrots for some reason. Brianna hoped she didn’t accidentally feed the little rock crab thing anything poisonous to her by accident, but she felt couldn’t just feed Orb eggs, so she had to try other things.

Those with power to fill Rung’s device passed it around and took turns pouring their energy into it. Those who could see on other planes said it glowed, but it looked pretty ordinary to her. They weren’t sure how long it would take to fill it entirely, but they wanted to put as much in as they could before executing the plan, so it might still be a week or so.

She almost wished it was sooner. The Fears were out there, tormenting everyone she’d ever met. And if this didn’t work… well, she wanted to know, to be able to start working on the next plan. It was putting the whole station on edge.

There was nothing to do but wait.

Chapter Text

Brianna woke to a sharp knock at her door. She rolled over at first and pulled the covers up over her head, but the knock came again… somewhat more insistently, and so she sighed and got up, dragging a blanket with her. “It’s open!” she called as she stumbled into the front room.

This had better be some sort of emergency. The clock on her wall read 00:15. She’d only been asleep for an hour.

The door opened to reveal Jon standing in the hallway, looking anxious.

“Hey,” she said, blinking at the light out there. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Jon said. “I just… you don’t happen to have seen Martin at all today?”

She sighed. “Um… no?”

“He just… he was here this morning, but I haven’t seen him since, and wherever he is, he hasn’t… I…I'm worried.”

“Come on,” Brianna sighed. “Let’s go talk to security.”

She led the way down the hall, still wearing her blanket like a cloak. Jon followed her, babbling nervously.

“I know he’s trying to process everything, but it’s like.. it feels like he’s actively avoiding me, and I don’t know if I should… I don’t know, back off, or if… I don't know what to do.”

“Mhm,” Brianna said.

“And he’s probably fine—well, fine in a relative sense, but I wish I could be sure.”

“Mhm.”

They got to the security center. She didn’t recognize the guy on cameras—they normally had two, she thought. But maybe it was different during the night shift.

He looked up and frowned. “What do you want?”

Okay, rude. “We’re looking for someone,” she said. “He’s disappeared, but we know where he was this morning. If you could check the files—”

“Can’t do that,” the man said. “Breach of privacy.”

“But… they’ve always been able to help me before.”

“Well, then they broke the rules.”

“I’m working with the Doctor—”

“Don’t care who you work for. It’s not allowed. Besides, I’m not going to follow someone all day long on the feed, even if it was allowed. That’s a lot of work for nothing important.”

“We need to find him.”

“It’s a space station, Miss,” the man said. “He can’t have gone that far.”

“It is important.”

He shook his head. “Go away.“I’m not going to let you break the rules and use the cameras to spy on people.” he glanced at Jon, then turned away stiffly. “This is a restricted section. You’re not supposed to be here.”

Brianna hesitated, but this guard was definitely not going to help them. “Come on, Jon,” she said, and led the way out of the security wing.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m usually pretty good at bullying my way into that, but that guy was decidedly unpleasant. Something… off about him… Do you want help looking for Martin?”

“I… I don’t want to keep you up. I’ll just look for him on my own.”

“No,” Brianna said. “I’ll help you. It’s okay. I’ll be worried now anyway.”

They got into the elevator.

Jon sighed. “I… he’s not going to be pleased with us when we find him. I really wish we could have just… used the cameras.”

“Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“Maybe outside?” Martin said. “In the fields. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep out there.”

They stepped back out of the elevator.

“Or… maybe he’s talking to Rung? I know Rung keeps odd hours.”

“Alright,” Brianna said. “Do you want to go together or split up…”

Jon froze. Brianna stopped as well, following his gaze, and they watched together as the distant figure of Martin entered his and Jon’s apartment.

Jon let out a sigh of relief and Brianna adjusted her blanket wrap. “Thank goodness,” she said “There he is. You could have just waited another half an hour.”

“Sorry,” Jon said.

“No, don’t be,” Brianna waved him off. “Are you alright?”

Jon laughed bitterly. “No,” he said. “God, I need a cigarette. Or a drink.”

“I have some booze,” Brianna said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said. “On the TARDIS. Come on.”

She led the way back to the elevator and down to the storage room. The lights were off, but the TARDIS doors opened for her.

The Doctor wasn’t around. He was possibly even asleep, though she knew he didn’t like to sleep while they were on their adventures. He did sleep, though, she was pretty sure, and it had been a very long mission.

“Stay close,” she told Jon. “It’s very easy to get lost back there.

Jon folded his arms. “I… might rather stay here.” he said.

“Right,” she said. “Yeah, I guess… stay in the control room. I’ll be right back.”

She had to wander a bit before she found her stash. There weren’t a lot of options. She grabbed a bottle of cheap wine and made her way back. She found Jon sitting against a wall of the control room and joined him.

“Sorry I don’t have any glasses,” she said. “We’ll have to drink from the bottle.”

He looked like he was about to care, but then thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, and watched her open the bottle with a sort of tired amusement.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing.” Jon shook his head. “Last time someone used a corkscrew in my vicinity it was to pull a worm out of my leg.”

“Ew,” Brianna said. “From that worm lady Martin’s talked about?”

“Yes, it was one of hers,” Jon said. “Probably needn’t have bothered though—a whole bunch of them got me a few minutes later.” He gestured at the scars speckling his face.

“Hm,” Brianna popped the cork out of the bottle and took a swig. “I need this too,” she said, and handed it to Jon. “It’s been a hell of an adventure this time. And not in a good way.” she laughed. “I remember telling Martin at the beginning that this sort of thing was just a regular Tuesday for me and the Doctor. I could not have been more wrong about that.”

Jon looked down. “I could have told you.”

She sighed. “I might be done after this,” she said. “Go back home, finish my degree, stay out of things.”

“Really? It’s not a lifelong gig?”

“The companion thing? No… well, sometimes, but usually not in a good way.”

Silence fell between them.

“He’d find another companion,” Brianna said. “He always does. He has to, I think. It’s the thing that keeps him sane.”

Jon thought about the trip back to London during the apocalypse. And Martin. His anchor, his reason, his hope through all of it.

“I… understand that.”

“Bet you do,” Brianna said. “To some extent, at least. The Doctor’s old. Like old old. Like thousands of years or something.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Anyway,” Brianna said. “That’s me. Considering the potential end to my adventuring days. What’s eating at you? Aside from the whole… well, god, I don’t know where to start.”

Jon laughed. “Yes,” he said, and gulped down some wine before handing the bottle back to Brianna. “I’m not sure I know where to start either. I mean… as glad as I am that we have a plan we think will actually stop the Fears for good, I… the prospect is stressful to say the least.”

Brianna nodded. “But that’s not why you’re up at one in the morning.”

“No,” Jon looked down and sighed. “We… we’re not doing well.”

Brianna handed back the bottle, and Jon took it and looked down at it.

“Martin… Martin’s not doing well, I’m not doing well. We’re not… we haven’t been doing well since…”

She waited.

“We had a choice during our apocalypse. I wanted to take over from Jonah, to keep the Fears in our universe and just try to make everyone’s deaths… a little kinder. A little sooner, a little easier. A little less terrible, at least. It wasn’t a good option, but there weren’t any good options. I just… didn’t want to do what I knew the Web wanted. And… I guess I wanted the power too—to be in control, to see and know everything.

“But everyone else wanted to follow Annabelle’s plan of sending the Fears away. Martin and I had a row about it—our first real argument, I think. And then… well…”

Brianna watched him. She hadn’t heard this part of the story in this much detail before.

Jon sighed. “I went behind his back and killed Jonah and took his place, becoming…” he shut his eyes. “Giving up what remained of my humanity. Sacrificing myself for what I thought was the greater good, even though there was another way, and I had… promised not to.”

“Hell,” Brianna said. “But… how did he end up… uh…”

Jon pressed a hand to his chest and brought it back wet from a spreading dark spot on his shirt. “Stabbing me?” he frowned at the blood on his fingertips. “There it goes again.”

“Maybe we should—”

“I’m fine. It’s not bleeding a lot... I should just keep bandages on it all the time, honestly. I’ve ruined so many of the station’s shirts.”

“If it gets worse, we’re going to the medical wing,” Brianna said.

Jon sighed. “Fair enough. I don’t… it never goes away, you know. I can… I can still feel the blade of the knife, cold, hard, buried in my flesh. I don’t know if it’s a manifestation of my supposed ‘metaphysical wound’ or if it’s something else, but it’s always there. It always hurts.”

Brianna stared at him. “Have you… mentioned this to Dr. Hale?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Jon said dully. “Martin suspects. He’s tried to confront me about it a few times, but… I… don’t want to tell him. I don’t want him to feel worse.”

“What happened?”

“He knew,” Jon said. “He knew I’d betray him. He knew I’d go behind his back, so he tried to stop me. He set our other plan in motion and came after me to stall me until it was too late, but he was too late, and I’d already gone through with it.”

“You… part of your plan was to kill Magnus. But… now you were in Magnus's position.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “And I could have resisted—could have kept the Fears from leaving, but the building was collapsing and I was… I was losing myself. And Martin wouldn’t leave, and the building… so I convinced him to let them go, to sever my connection to them. I said maybe… maybe we’d get dragged along, end up in some other universe, together. But really, I didn’t expect to survive, and… I doubted he would either.” He sighed. “And now here we are, trying to pick up the pieces. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy—that our choices… that we might have hurt each other too deeply.”

Brianna didn’t know what to say.

Jon swallowed another mouthful of wine. “I don’t know what to do.” He handed it back to her. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave him. I don’t… god, I don’t want to die. But… even if everything goes to plan and I survive, we still… we still essentially got each other killed in our own universe. And… how do we talk about that? How do we move past that? I broke my promise, and he… he stabbed me in the heart. It… whatever our reasons, whatever the circumstances… that’s what happened.”

“I’m… so sorry,” Brianna said.

“And now this new plan. It’s… I might not come back from it. And I wouldn’t have that the other way around, but… it feels like betraying him again. And now he’s avoiding me, and I… I snapped at him, and then passed out again, and… I thought I was actually dying that time and it… it sort of feels like I did. It feels like those were really the last words I ever said to him, because I can’t get through to him now.”

“Have you… talked to Rung about it?”

“I talked to him today—well, yesterday, technically. He’s worried about Martin too, but he couldn’t give me any useful advice. I almost feel like this is his fault. Martin… Martin had a rough session with him right after I passed out. I didn’t…” he sighed. “I don’t think therapy has done us much good. Therapy… it’s what you do after it’s all over and you have the stability to open up and heal.”

Brianna looked down.

“Brianna?”

“Yeah?”

“If… If I don’t make it through this…”

“Hey, you’re going to make it.”

“You can’t promise that,” Jon said.

She… she couldn’t.

“If I die, Martin…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I can’t do this to him, god, I can’t do this to him. I just… I want to leave. To steal the TARDIS and run away to another universe with him, but… I can’t let that selfish part win again. And he… may be better off in the long run… without a broken monster for a boyfriend.”

“Jon...”

“But at first, he’ll be… if I don’t make it, will you…?”

“I’ll look after him,” Brianna said. “I promise. But I still think you’re going to be okay. The Doctor doesn’t like losing people, and he’s pretty good at getting what he wants.”

Jon sighed, then winced.

“It really… hurts all the time?” Brianna said.

“Yes,” Jon said. “Even when it’s not bleeding, which… maybe I do need to go to the medical wing…” He reached out for the wine, and she let him have another drink before taking the bottle back and setting it aside so she could get to her feet.

“Up you come.” she reached down to help him up and he stumbled as he stood. “What?”

“Dizzy,” he said.

“You can’t be that drunk.”

“I’ve been off the alphabet soup too long,” Jon said. “Ah!” he pressed a shaking hand to his bleeding chest.

“We should have brought the wheelchair,” Brianna said. “Come on. Lean on me if you feel like you’re going to fall over.”

Jon woke up in an empty apartment.

He’d made it back from the medical wing at three in the morning. Martin had been sleeping right in the middle of the bed, sprawled across and taking up most of it. Jon hadn’t wanted to bother him, so he’d curled up on the couch instead, and had slept fitfully for six hours or so. Now Martin was gone again.

Jon stood in the bedroom doorway and stared at the neatly-made bed for a few minutes, feeling selfishly lonely, then went back to the living room. The only evidence of Martin’s passing through was a mug and a torn piece of notebook paper on the table.

The notebook paper had a short reminder on it that read [Couple’s therapy: 6pm] and the mug smelled like tea and honey. Jon sat at the table for a few minutes, clutching the mug, breathing in the scent.

This… this couldn’t go on any longer.

They had to talk again. Jon wasn’t sure what he could say or how he could fix it, but there was a good chance he was running out of time, and he had to do something.

He didn’t have access to the Eye, but he did know where to look first.

He swapped out his bag of alphabet soup and started the trek out to the farms.

He found Martin sitting on their picnic hill, watching the cows.

No surprises there. Jon walked over, heart aching literally and figuratively as the slight breeze played with Martin’s hair. He sat there in the light of the fake sun, looking peaceful—almost happy.

His eyes darted over once as Jon sat down next to him, but he gave no other indication that he knew there was anyone there.

Jon waited for a few minutes, but the silence was too much.

“I miss you,” he said.

Martin didn’t look at him. “I miss you too.”

Jon studied his face. “Then…”

“I’ve been thinking,” Martin said. “What if instead of putting you in the empty universe, you just… stayed at the gate. Like you did with the black hole. You didn’t actually go in it, right?”

“Right,” Jon said.

“So… just lure the Fears in from the outside. Like the black hole. Like the Web did with the tapes. And then… there’s no chance of you getting stuck in there, dying. Why isn’t that the plan?”

Jon sighed. “It’s complicated,” he said. “For one thing, the physical location of the gate is likely to be… unstable. Probably not dangerous for the TARDIS but… unpredictable. For another… well, the black hole had a strong gravitational pull as close as we were to it. The other universe, not so much… it’s quite likely the Fears would only be drawn to the location of the gate, without getting pulled through. All in all… yes, I’d probably have a better chance of surviving, but the plan would have a much worse chance of success.”

“And that’s more important,” Martin said bitterly.

“Objectively speaking…” Jon said. “I… think it is.”

Martin nodded. “Right. Cool.”

“No,” Jon said. “I hate it. I really do. I’d much rather run away from all of this. Go back in time, or to another universe—somewhere safe, where we could live our our lives without…” He looked up at the fake sky. “All of this.”

“Then why don’t you?” Martin asked, finally turning to look at him.

Jon sighed. “I know it’s not entirely my fault, but I do feel responsible for… and I don’t know if there’s anyone else who can do what I can, to fix it. The Fears used me to escape the universe they started in, so now I’m a weakness we can exploit.”

“But my plan might work. The one where they won’t risk stranding you in an empty universe with the Fears, to die.”

Jon sighed. “Maybe.”

“Then insist on that,” Martin said. “Tell the Doctor you won’t do it unless you’re guaranteed to come back alive. Tell him you won’t go through that gate.”

Jon looked down.

“What?”

“We… we have talked through a lot of alternative possibilities, in the meetings. Like your idea… but… I just… It won’t work, Martin. The Fears will be drawn to wherever I am. If I’m not in that other universe, they won’t go there. Honestly, my favorite alternate plan still involves looking for Steven first, trying to get him back. Then he could go with me—heal me right away. But... locating Steven would require me to intentionally re-connect with the Eye, which… well we’re not sure what state I’d be in afterward. We might have another coma situation on our hands, or it might compromise the station again, or the Fears might just take me.”

Martin sighed.

“When this is all over—”

“You’ll be dead.”

Silence fell.

Jon looked down at his hands. “We don’t know that.”

“We’ve always known it,” Martin said dully.

“No.” Jon reached for his hand, but Martin moved it away. “Look at me. There’s a chance, alright? There’s a chance I’ll die, but it’s not a certainty. There’s a chance I’ll live too.”

“Yeah?” Martin said. “When have we ever been that lucky?”

“I’ve lived so far, haven’t I?”

Martin looked at him, up at the IV stand Jon had dragged along and balanced precariously on a level spot on the hill, then back at him. “Have you?”

Jon looked away, rubbing at a worm scar on his arm. He couldn’t… exactly deny it. He wasn’t… really human anymore. The only thing keeping him going in the absence of the Eye was magical story juice. He was probably dead half a dozen times over.

“I… guess you have a point,” he said quietly.

Martin sighed. “So tell them you won’t do it.”

“Martin...”

“Tell them they have to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve potentially stranding you there… that doesn’t involve you dying alone on some distant planet while they scramble to find Steven.”

“I can’t—”

“Or…” Martin took a deep breath. “Or we’re done.”

Jon stared at him, ice in his veins.

Martin had turned away again—was looking off into the distance. “You can have some time to think about it,” he said. “We still probably have a few days before they decide to carry out the plan.”

“Martin—”

“Look, can you… understand how I just…” He clenched his fists, and some actual emotion crept into his voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Jon. I can’t watch you… I just… If I’m going to lose you anyway…”

Jon sighed. “I… understand.”

“But if you just… just stay with me. Just don't… don’t let them put you in danger. Don’t let them use you as a disposable weapon against the Fears… you said you wanted to just run away, so let’s do that. But if you can’t...”

A painful thought crossed Jon’s mind. “Martin… you don’t… want to break up with me, do you?”

Martin frowned at him.

“I… do you remember when I… I went to you with the whole escaping from the Eye thing?”

Martin frowned.

“And you said I was only asking you because I knew you’d refuse—”

“Your mind’s already made up then?” Martin asked bitterly.

Jon swallowed. “If I run away from this,” he said. “I think… we’ll still lose each other. We can’t pretend we didn’t have this chance to put things right.”

“We?” Martin said. “When have I ever had a chance in this? A choice in this? All I do is sit around and watch you get hurt—watch you make the same stupid mistakes over and over! Because you just… you just don’t care. Not enough, anyway.”

Jon didn’t know what to say.

“So,” Martin said, getting up. “If… if you’re really already decided—”

“Wait,” Jon stumbled to his feet as well. “Martin, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Martin asked coldly. “Don’t leave you?”

Jon stared at him helplessly.

Martin shook his head and turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Jon said, taking half a step after him. “Wait, I-I’ll think about it. Please….”

“Okay,” Martin said, deflating a little. “Well… let me know what you decide.”

Jon watched him leave, then reluctantly followed, dragging the IV stand with him, pausing every few minutes to cough flecks of blood onto his sleeve.

Martin rapped gently on the wall and waited.

Rung opened the door. “Good to see you, Martin,” he smiled. “You’re right on time, too. It’s been a few days—you missed your last session.”

Martin shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t feel like talking. I… still don’t, but…” It wasn’t that he felt guilty. He didn’t feel guilty. He just…

He wanted to talk to Jon again. Try to clarify that he didn’t want to break up, he just…

He wasn’t sure exactly. It was all just… too much right now. “Jon not here yet?”

Rung shut the panel in the wall. “Um… actually, he stopped by earlier to let me know he wasn’t coming.”

“Oh…” A bitter frustration settled in his chest. “Wow. Couldn’t be bothered.”

Rung narrowed his glowing eyes.

“In that case,” Martin said. “I’ll just—”

“No, wait,” Rung said. “I do want to talk to you, while you’re here.”

Martin hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. What?”

Rung gave him a pointed look.

“Did Jon say something to you? Because he has no right to complain after everything…” Martin felt sick. He couldn’t…

“He didn’t need to say anything,” Rung said. “But from our conversations the past several days, he hasn’t been upset with you, just worried.”

Martin snorted. “Worried? Why?”

Rung gestured for Martin to sit down, and Martin reluctantly acquiesced.

“Martin is this… self isolation normal for you during a depressive episode?”

Martin blinked. “What?”

“Has this happened before? You feel how you’re feeling now, and you start pushing people away, avoiding your friends, breaking off relationships, that sort of thing?”

“I… a few times, I guess,” Martin said. “I blamed the last one on the Lonely, but… I guess it’s probably why I was susceptible.”

Rung nodded.

“The Lonely was nice,” Martin remembered. “If I didn’t want to be around someone, I could just… disappear.”

“It was… nice?”

“Well, it was awful, actually,” Martin said. “But…”

“You should probably… when all this is over, I recommend you go to a psychiatrist and see if… I suspect you have some sort of depressive disorder, especially if this has happened before. If you get a diagnosis… they have medication for this sort of thing.”

“I don’t need—”

“The choice is always yours, but I think it would be a good thing to look into your options once you can find a good human therapist to talk to.”

Martin shook his head. “When this is all over… Jon will probably be dead. So I’m not sure how much it will matter.”

Rung frowned. “Oh?” he said. “I would think this sort of thing is going to matter more in the case that Jon doesn’t survive.”

Martin looked away.

“Do you have a plan for what you’ll do in that case?”

“No,” Martin said. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about this.”

Rung watched him quietly, patiently. Martin didn’t want to be here—he didn’t want to do this.

“Look,” he said. “Jon’s as good as dead already. There’s nothing you can do to fix that. So I’m going to—”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself? That Jon’s death is a certainty?”

“Well… look, even if he doesn’t. He still… he was willing to…”

Rung was looking at him, frowning. “I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you break up with him?”

Martin scowled. “That’s none of your business.”

Rung tilted his head to the side. “I’m your relationship therapist.”

That was… true. Martin sighed. “I didn’t break up with him,” he said. “I just… threatened to.”

“Threatened to?”

“I mean… I don’t—that sounded really bad. I just… But if he actually goes through with this suicide mission I… I just don’t think I can...”

“You told him you would break up with him if he goes through with the plan?” Rung said.

Martin sighed. “Yeah,”

Rung seemed to consider that.

“Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to break up with him over this. It’s my decision. I have a right to—”

“Yes,” Rung said. “You have every right to break up with him, for any reason you choose. You don’t owe him a relationship.”

“I...yeah,” Martin said. “That’s right.”

“My concern is… can you tell me more about the conversation you had with him where you discussed this? I just want to understand your side of the story.”

“Fine,” Martin said, and recounted the conversation to the best of his ability.

Rung was quiet afterward.

“What?” Martin said. “You going to tell me that’s not fair to Jon?”

“No,” Rung said. “Right now, I actually just want to focus on how you feel, and how this will affect you without considering Jon at all.”

“What?” Martin stared at him.

“We can talk about Jon afterward, if you’d like,” Rung said. “But before any of it, I want you to take a few moments to calm down.”

Fine. Martin shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. The calm came back, enfolding him, and he felt quiet and empty again. He opened his eyes.

Rung stared at him, looking mildly alarmed.

“What?” Martin asked.

“Are you… feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “I feel fine, why?”

Rung frowned. “...nothing,” he said. “I thought for a moment… never mind. Let’s talk about this—about you breaking up with Jon.”

“I mean, I didn’t actually break up with him.”

“Do you think that he’ll refuse to participate in the plan? Because of what you told him?”

Martin sighed. “No.”

“Okay,” Rung said. “In that case—”

“If he’s going to die, then why does it matter if I break up with him or not?” Martin said. “At least this way, I… If I’m losing him anyway, maybe it’s better if it’s on my terms.”

“What if he doesn’t die?” Rung said.

Martin shrugged.

“Do you plan to get back together with him if he survives?”

“I don’t know,” Martin said. “Either way, I’ll… I’ll know what his priorities were.”

“Okay,” Rung said. “Do you feel like breaking up with him will make you happier?”

Martin hesitated. “Well… no.”

Rung nodded. “But if you’re losing him anyway, maybe it’s better to lose him on your terms? That’s what you said, right?”

Martin frowned.

“There are a lot of things out of your control,” Rung said. “And the prospect of Jon not coming back from the mission must be very painful and stressful. I know it’s hard, Martin, but can you be honest with yourself right now?”

Martin hesitated. “I… I can try.”

“Why are you considering breaking up with Jon? Why does that seem like the best option to you?”

Martin sighed. “I just… can’t do it anymore. Emotionally. He’s… he’s the sort of person who has to put his hand on the stove to see if it’s hot. And even if he survives this, even if we get to walk away and make a life somewhere else, I have the horrible feeling that’s not going to change. That it’s never going to be different.”

Rung nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” he said. “Why now, though? If he does die, why is it better to break up with him now?”

Martin looked down at his hands. “Because…” A lump formed in his throat and he felt so… here. So solid, so painfully present. “Because maybe…” He didn’t want to have this conversation, but something was holding him in place. “Maybe it won’t hurt as much, that way. When… when he doesn’t come back.” He felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Do you think that’s true?” Rung said. “That it will hurt less, in the long run?”

“No,” Martin admitted. “But right now...”

“Maybe right now,” Rung said. “Disconnecting will make it hurt less. But in the long run, I doubt it will make things better.”

Martin shook his head. “Then what do I do?”

Rung watched him with compassion. “You look to the future. Whatever happens in the next few days, it can eventually heal.”

There was nothing…

Nothing he could do to stop this—to change it. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, and Rung reached out and rested a finger gently on Martin’s shoulder. It was surprisingly comforting.

When Martin was finished crying, he looked up again. “I… maybe I should talk to Jon… apologize for… I don’t know. I… do you think I shouldn’t break up with him?”

Rung shook his head. “I can’t make that decision for you, Martin, but… I can make a suggestion or two.”

Martin nodded.

“You have several options here,” Rung said. “But if you think you can manage, emotionally, I believe it may be best to wait to decide whether to break up with him or not until after we carry out the plan.”

Martin considered that.

“As far as your relationship goes,” Rung said. “I feel the most difficult scenario is if you break up with him now, and he survives, and you change your mind and want to get back together with him later.”

Martin could imagine it. Jon would take him back… wouldn’t he? But it would be… it would be like the knife thing, but worse. They’d never be able to trust each other again.

“If you do break up with him now,” Rung said. “You need to be certain. You need to be committed. It needs to be a decision that you make, not an attempt to feel like you’re in control, or to emotionally disconnect from the situation, or to coerce Jon into backing out of the plan.”

Martin nodded.

“In the case that he doesn’t survive, I… it might not seem like it matters whether you’re together or not during his last few days. But… I know I said we’re not talking about Jon, but I’m certain it matters deeply to him.”

Oh, god…

No...

“And if being around him is too painful for you, then I’m positive he will understand and respect that. But you need to tell him—to communicate with him. At the very least, even if you decide to break up with him now, you’ll probably regret not taking time to say goodbye.”

“Fuck,” Martin said, staring down at his hands, vision blurring with tears, feeling dazed, horrified, disgusted with himself...

“...Martin?”

“What the hell am I doing?” Martin said.

Rung frowned. “Having a depressive episode?” he shook his head, muttering. “I thought but… we might need to re-evaluate whether—”

“I have to go.” Martin got up from the chair. “Open the wall.”

“Wait,” Rung said. “Where would you be going?”

“I have to talk to Jon. To apologize. To… to fix this. I’m not breaking up with him. I don’t… I don’t want to break up with him. Open the wall.”

“Okay,” Rung said. “Can we talk for a few more minutes first?”

Martin sighed. “Fine.” He breathed in deeply. “But just a few minutes, because I… I can’t believe I was really going to… to abandon him…”

Rung watched thoughtfully. “Something changed,” he said. “What was it?”

Martin shook his head. “That might be for another therapy session, actually,” he said. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now. It’s just everything you were saying—it finally clicked in my head…” Martin swallowed. “I just... I just don't want to be the sort of person who... who runs away when things get tough."

Rung considered him. "That's good."

"I’m not leaving him. I’m not giving up on him…" Another thing clicked into place in his head—the obvious solution. "I’ll go with him. I’ll go with him to the empty universe and… and do everything I can for him there.”

Rung tilted his head to the side. “That’s… not a bad idea.”

“I can… insist we bring life support equipment, and lots of alphabet soup. I can try to keep him alive long enough for them to come back with Steven.”

“Yes,” Rung said. “I do believe that will increase his chances of survival significantly.”

And if Jon still died…

The thought was horrifying. To watch Jon die again, to do everything he could but discover that wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to. He did want to walk away.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Martin said. “My head feels clearer than it has for days.”

Rung frowned. “I don’t know how much credit I can take for that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Martin said. “You’re a great therapist.”

“Martin,” Rung said. “I… I will let you go now, because I agree you should talk to Jon. But I want you to promise that if you start to feel hopeless like that again you’ll come back here. And I want to speak with you tomorrow, no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “And I’ll bring Jon in for a make-up couples session before the plan gets put into action. He’s… he’s probably going to take some convincing, honestly, to let me come on the mission. But he can’t complain, because he’s going, and it’s a lot more dangerous for him than it will be for me.”

“Good,” Rung said, reaching for the wall panel. “And yes, I want to talk to him too.”

“Thank you again,” Martin said. “I’ll reach out tomorrow.”

Rung nodded, and opened the wall for him.

Martin left. He had to find Jon. The apartment seemed a good first place to check, so he hurried there.

He was shaking. He… he had to make this right—had to talk to Jon now. But as he walked, he realized he didn’t know what he was going to say. Would Jon be angry at him? Would Jon even want to talk to him? He had every right to be upset—Martin had avoided him for days, and then threatened to break up with him.

Maybe Martin should think about this first.

He stopped just outside the door to the apartment. Maybe… maybe he should just…

No.

He had to do this. He had to do something to fix this as soon as possible.

He opened the door, stepped inside. “Jon?” he said.

No answer.

He looked around the apartment, then checked the bedroom to find Jon curled up on one side of the bed, asleep.

It wasn’t even seven, but, well… Jon had been tired a lot since the Doctor had turned off the screens.

Martin really had just abandoned him since that. Jon had had to deal with all of this alone. It couldn’t be easy for him either, the prospect of their very risky plan that would be unpleasant for him, even if he survived it. On top of that, he’d been worried about Martin, and about how it would affect Martin if he died… and then Martin had threatened to break up with him and… were those bandages?

Martin didn’t even know when Jon’s wound had opened up again.

He had really messed up.

But… he couldn’t wake Jon now. Jon needed rest.

He could wait until tomorrow morning, and then apologize and beg Jon’s forgiveness and explain everything.

He turned the lights off, leaving just the faint glow of the night lights built into the walls. Then he lay down facing Jon, thinking about what he would say.

I’m so sorry for what I said yesterday. I realized I was just trying to run away like a coward, because I was scared of losing you. I don’t want to break up with you. I won’t abandon you just because you were trying to fix what we broke together. You were right—that was just an excuse. I was just scared, but I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to go with you instead. We can fix it together. I can help. I can support you—keep you stable… And dammit, Jon, if you die, you’re going to die in my arms. I’ll be there for you—with you. I won’t let you do this alone…

It… it sounded silly, in his head all of a sudden. Foolish.

He wondered if Jon would even be willing to listen to him. Or if it was already too late. If he had already ruined everything. And it didn’t change anything in the end. It wouldn’t matter, because chances were Jon was going to die and leave Martin more alone than ever. What could Martin do to change that? What would his presence really accomplish anyway?

It was honestly… sort of a relief that Jon was asleep already.

Martin thought vaguely as he drifted off that Rung had said he should go back if he started to feel hopeless again, but he actually didn’t want to talk to Rung right now.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Chapter Text

Jon woke to darkness, alert in an instant. He cast around for a reason he felt the anxious end of all things closing in, and then he registered the warm heavy weight of Martin’s arm over him and he remembered. Martin—he was losing Martin, unless he refused to go through with the Doctor’s plan.

He shut his eyes, which made no difference, and thought he might lie here a while, clinging to this moment, with the weight of Martin’s arm over him. Here, he could pretend Martin was so affectionate while awake. But Martin’s arm somehow made him feel colder, emptier, more alone…

And there was something else. Something anxiety-inducing. Something keeping him from slipping back into unconsciousness. Something… wrong.

It gnawed at the frayed edges of his perception, familiar in a way that made his stomach sink. Something…

He opened his eyes again.

That...sound.

Oh, no.

No.

He scrambled out of bed in the darkness, yanking out the IV in his stumble across the room. He banged into the dresser and the bathroom doorknob before slamming the light switch on.

Nothing happened for a moment and he had an instant of panic. It was never this dark. There were dim, glowing panels that kept the station from pitch blackness, even at night.

The lights flickered on almost playfully, and Jon’s relief was incomplete as he wondered what might be in the room with him.

Slowly, he turned around, but it was only Martin sleeping on the bed, the IV stand knocked over with an empty alphabet soup bag, and that sound…

One of the dresser drawers they never used was open just a crack.

Slowly, Jon stepped over and knelt by it. He barely registered his bleeding arm as he pulled the drawer open and reached in to take the small device from it, not bothering to brush the cobwebs off.

The tape recorder lay in his hands, whirring patiently, expectant.

He had to find the Doctor.

They had to evacuate. They were compromised. The Fears had gotten back in somehow overnight…

He got up to wake Martin, but hesitated with his hand over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

There was something gray, something soft at the edges, something light and airy about Martin’s outline. When he breathed, Jon could faintly hear the rushing of wind and waves.

The Lonely.

God.

How long… how long had the Fears been here? What was going on?

He had to bring Martin back. At least he was still here, not vanished completely…

He should have known.

Jon breathed in to call out to Martin—to wake him up. But then he looked down at the tape recorder still whirring in his hand.

No…

No, he had to think. He couldn’t say a word. If there was any way to salvage this… he wouldn’t do it by running around, screaming at everyone that they needed to evacuate. That was his first instinct. To wake Martin, to find the Doctor, to tell everyone. So that must be the wrong thing to do. That must be what the Web wanted.

Jon shut his eyes again and took a deep breath. He had to be smart this time. He had to think this through like he’d promised Martin. He had to act quickly, but he couldn’t act rashly. He couldn’t act at all until he knew what to do.

And he couldn’t talk to anyone. The recorder wanted his voice. Even Martin’s might be enough for it, so he couldn’t risk waking Martin.

He turned and sat on the bed, pressing his thumb to the bleeding hole the IV port had ripped out of. It was fully out—he’d have to have them replace it in the medical wing, which he didn’t have time for, so he couldn’t access any more alphabet soup.

It wasn’t important. That wasn’t what he needed to think about.

How had the Fears gotten back in? How had they gotten onto the station? The Doctor had gone looking for Steven a few times, and had also made another trip for more of the yellow flowers that blocked fear. Had he gone anywhere else? Jon didn’t think so, but he couldn’t know for sure, and anyway, they always had that flower garland over the TARDIS that was supposed to protect it—to hide it.

Jon looked down at Martin.

When had the Lonely started to claim him? The obvious answer was during Jon’s most recent coma, but that didn’t make any sense. That was when they’d shut down the observation deck.

Of course, the Lonely had been there before that. Most of the Fears had been, to a small extent…

Jon was an idiot.

And idiot.

They’d turned off the screens on the observation deck and that had gotten rid of the Eye. That didn’t mean the other Fears were gone, just that Jon couldn’t sense them anymore.

He’d been so distracted worrying about Martin, and about the Doctor’s plan, that he hadn’t been paying attention for evidence of the Fears. They’d never left. They’d probably been getting stronger, if anything, burrowing deeper and deeper into the station.

Why, though? He looked down at the tape recorder on the blanket beside him. Why this? Why now? If the Fears were here and the station was compromised, why this game? Why not just descend on them and take them all?

Unless… the Fears still didn’t know where they were.

Unless they needed Jon to invite them in.

He got up from the bed then looked around frantically. He needed… there.

He rushed to the laundry hamper and pulled out a bloodstained shirt, which he took into the bathroom and shut himself in, setting the tape recorder on the counter.

He tore the shirt, ripping a wide strip out of the back, hoping it didn’t wake Martin. Then, wincing at the texture of the cloth, he put the center of the strip in his mouth and tied the makeshift gag tightly around the back of his head.

Not a minute too soon. He was still in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out his next move when the Eye hit him like a brick to the head.

He cried out, leaning over the sink as the Watcher’s power clashed with whatever remained of the alphabet soup in his system, but the blinding pain faded after a minute or so and Jon looked back up.

He knew.

He knew all of it.

He watched in the mirror as he raised his arms to the back of his head to untie the gag.

No.

He clenched his hands into fists and shut his eyes.

No, no, he wouldn’t untie the gag.

They’d come if he called them.

They’d kill everyone.

They’d take Martin…

Jon bit down hard on the makeshfit gag, which muffled his scream. He couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let them win. He couldn’t let them hurt Martin…

It was his fault. All of this was his fault.

Deep down, somewhere, he had known that, but he’d been selfish.

The Eye compulsion passed for now, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He wondered how long he could resist before he collapsed. But… he didn’t really need that much time.

He picked up the tape recorder and took it with him as he left the bathroom. Thankfully, Martin was still asleep. Jon had worried he’d made too much noise.

He paused in the door for one indulgent, regretful, lingering glance at the man he loved, who he would likely never see again.

Then he left the apartment, blinking back his tears.

He had to focus. The clock was ticking. His friends needed saving.

He didn’t have far to go. Brianna’s door was unlocked and her satchel hung from a heavy hook on the wall. Jon dug through it for a notebook and a ballpoint pen and went to sit at the table. He flipped through the notebook, pausing at the drawing Noah had done for a moment, running his fingers over the lines.

Then he shook his head and found some blank pages, which he tore out of the book.

Then, breathing deeply, trying to still his trembling hands, he began to write.

Brianna blinked in the dim light, listening to the rustle of paper.

What… what was that? Was someone in her apartment? She rolled out of bed with a groan and went out to take a look. She did usually leave her door unlocked, in case anyone needed her. But it seemed to keep happening in the middle of the fucking night. If it was Jon again…

It was Jon again.

The kitchen light was on and he sat at the table, with a gag tied in his mouth, scribbling frantically on a page of torn notebook paper. There was a tape recorder on the table as well. A sudden unease woke her the rest of the way.

“Jon?”

He glanced at her and held a finger urgently to his lips. Then he tore another piece of paper out of her notebook.

She took another step closer and he held up the paper.

It read [DON’T TALK]

She sat at the table, frowning at him. There was a folded piece of paper off to the side with “Doctor” written on it, and Jon seemed to be working on a second note, which he covered with his hand when she tried to read over his shoulder, shooting her a resentful look.

His eyes…

She got up and went to get a second pen from her bag, then came back and added to the paper he’d written “Don’t talk” on.

[What’s going on?]

He glanced at her question, shoved his half-written letter to the side and answered. [Compromised. Fears here. Don’t panic, I know what to do]

She took in a deep, shaky breath and nodded, then watched him continue writing for a few minutes before writing another question.

[Can I help?]

He looked over, tore a new piece of paper out of the notebook, and bent over it. He only wrote a sentence or two before folding it up and writing “Brianna” on the outside. He set it on top of the one for the Doctor. Brianna reached for it, but Jon caught her hand and shook his head.

She frowned, and he let her go and wrote on their talking paper [When I’m done, wait five minutes] He paused to hold up all five fingers on one hand [Then deliver these. Doctor first, then read yours. You’ll find him on the observation deck.]

Brianna nodded that she understood.

Jon nodded back and returned to his letter, which took up most of the page now. He stopped after a few moments, shaking. Then he slammed his fist on the table, breathing hard.

She caught herself before asking if he was alright. She was about to reach for the paper, but he went for it first.

[Stop me] he wrote with trembling fingers, then dropped the pen. His hands shot up to the back of his head to untie the gag.

Brianna lunged across the table and grabbed his arms. She pulled them away and he struggled and screamed through the gag, but she pinned his arms to the table and held them down. He wailed and kept fighting, calling out, eyes burning even brighter—almost glowing. She couldn’t hear the words but the agonized pleading came through anyway. She shook her head seriously, and Jon leaned over the table and screamed again. Brianna looked down, trembling, but held firm. After a minute, Jon went quiet and stopped struggling. Brianna looked up and he raised his head as well, still breathing heavily.

She glanced down at his arms and looked up questioningly.

He nodded, and she let him go.

He flexed his fingers and picked up the pen again. After a moment of hesitation, he wrote a few more lines, then folded it up and wrote “Martin” on the outside.

Then he stood and pressed his hand to his bandaged chest for a moment before scooping up the letters and the tape recorder.

Brianna stood and he gave the papers to her. He held up a hand again to remind her. Five minutes.

She wanted to ask what he was going to do, but he put a finger to his lips again and turned to rush from the apartment.

Jon ran through the halls of the base, out of breath, every fiber in his body screaming for him to stop, but he couldn’t. He had to keep going, keep taking random corridors, keep stepping through unknown doors, until he was lost—very lost—impossibly lost. Until the halls got longer, the turns sharper.

Eventually, he stopped to catch his breath for a moment and stared down the endless corridor he was standing in, watching as it twisted in the distance, curving ever so slightly to one side. He felt the floor shift a fraction under his feet, tilting, warping.

A shiver went down his spine, but he breathed a sigh of relief anyway. It was an odd mix of feelings. Relief that he could save them, fear because he wasn't sure what would happen to him.

He couldn't stop to think about it or the fear might win. He still had work to do. He couldn't even take the stupid gag off yet, because he had to return to the station one more time, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally draw the Fears there.

He looked down at the tape recorder clutched in his hand, just as it clicked off.

He shook his head.

That wouldn’t save them.

The Doctor stared down at the figure on the ground, listening to Director Garrison babble, words registering in the back of his mind as he studied the corpse.

The call had come in the middle of the night—a pounding on the TARDIS door. A frantic guard insisting the Doctor go to the observation deck. The Director had been attacked by a night shift worker. The screens wouldn’t turn off.

He’d rushed to the scene to find a small host of technicians frantically attempting to get rid of the Fears on the display screens. Their efforts were in vain—the spider sat smugly in its web, staring out of the panels, eyes focused and aimed somehow into the room.

Some night shift worker no one knew had come in and turned them on. Except there was no such thing as a night shift worker no one knew. There were fewer than two thousand people on the station, and they all memorized each others’ names and faces, all celebrated new arrivals, all attended every funeral.

The Director had woken—had somehow sensed something wrong, and had come to check. He’d gotten into an altercation with this man who now lay twitching on the ground. And he wasn’t moving… naturally. In fact on close inspection, he didn’t even seem to be a man. In the fight, the Director had pulled the thing’s arm off, and there was nothing inside but fine dust.

“...should sound the alarm, right? We should start evacuating?”

What did this mean? The Fears weren’t supposed to be here anymore.

He needed to talk to Jon. “Send someone—”

The lights in the room changed, becoming dimmer but warmer.

The screens had turned off, finally. The technicians cheered. The Doctor breathed in deeply, as the weight of the monster’s watching lifted.

Then the door of the observation deck opened and Brianna rushed in.

“Ah, Brianna,” the Doctor said, glad to see her safe. “Impeccable timing, as usual. Want to help us solve this mystery?”

“Huh… oh, god, what is that?”

“A night shift worker, supposedly.”

“Oh… I talked to him the other day—he was on the cameras. He was not very helpful. I knew there was something off about him. How… how did I think that was human?”

“It’s apparent we aren’t as safe as we thought we were,” the Doctor said. “Have you seen Jon or Martin?”

“Um... yeah,” Brianna held out a folded piece of notebook paper. The Doctor took it, glancing at the two others in her hand before unfolding and reading the hastily scrawled note. His hearts sank—they had waited too long.

“Dammit, Jon,” Brianna said, looking at another piece of paper, which she’d just unfolded. “I knew it! I should have…” she swallowed as she looked down at the final, still-folded note.

“I assume that one’s for Martin,” the Doctor guessed.

“What’s that?” Director Garrison asked, looking at the note in the Doctor’s hands.

“Instructions,” the Doctor said. “Sound the alarm, but we don’t need to evacuate—at least not yet. Call your security personnel here, and tell everyone else to stay in their apartments. We need to sweep the station for the rest of the manifestations.”

The Director nodded.

“Brianna, come with me.”

“I have to deliver this—”

“It can wait,” the Doctor said, and stepped out into the hall. “It’s the middle of the night—Martin’s probably still asleep anyway…” He stopped in the hall, and breathed out a sigh of relief as he saw the people standing there. “Good. Very good.”

“What…” Brianna followed him and gasped. She covered her mouth with her hands, staring at the three figures there.

Jon had mentioned it in his note, that he was going to try to recover them. Apparently, he’d been successful.

They looked a little worse for wear, but at least they were alive. Mendanbar, tried and disheveled, nodded to the Doctor. Steven smiled weakly, waving.

Brianna rushed forward and threw her arms around Noah.

*click*

There we go

*click*

…

*click*

Oh, don’t play this game with me...

*click*

*click*

I can do this all day, you know. What are you going to do? Explode? Stop working entirely? No—no, I don’t think you can. This is too deeply ingrained in what you are, in what you want. Recognizing that you’ve missed the mark isn’t enough to really stop you.

Besides, don’t you want to hear the story? Isn’t that the point?

...

That’s better. You see… the Fears were always on the station. Or, rather, they were there as long as I was. The Eye connected to me the moment I came to this universe on the TARDIS and I brought it to the station, along with everything else. The Doctor is the single largest threat to the Fears, but he played right into the Web’s hands when he took Martin and I in.

It took me less than an hour of being consciousness before I took the Doctor’s statement, which should have allowed the Fears to locate us. We have Brianna to thank for our survival there, I think. She stopped me before I was finished. If she hadn’t… well, this would have been over before it started.

Half of the Doctor’s statement wasn’t enough. The tether was weak, and it is very difficult to extract information from the inside of a black hole. The Spiral wasn’t present enough yet.

Furthermore, the alphabet soup didn’t play nice with the Eye. It worked alright as a substitute—keeping me alive. But it interfered with the connection, making it both difficult to use me as a spy, and difficult to convince me to take another statement.

Still, I was there on the station. And it was only a matter of time before we slipped up and did something stupid.

We were more careful after that. We brought Noah in and while our plan to cast the Fears into a black hole didn’t work, it did prove that the Doctor could use me to control them. To drag them wherever he wanted, to pin them down, to draw them like a poison from any world they infected.

It got worse, once the Doctor enlisted other powerful entities from other universes to help him. Infused with their power, I became a sword that could cut both ways, and the Web now had to be extra careful. The Fears were afraid. They tried to hide.

But Mendanbar saw them—realized how deeply they had soaked into the bones of the station, and went looking for evidence. So the Spiral took him, which gave the Fears another chance to find us when I reached out to look for him. They nearly had us—it was Martin who came to the rescue that time, stopping me before I could establish a full connection. And then, in the aftermath, I chose to cut myself off from the Eye by asking the Doctor to turn the screens off.

By that point, I wasn’t the only anchor. The Fears couldn’t see onto the station anymore, much less locate it. But they had us in their hands, and we were blind, oblivious, convinced that because I couldn’t see anything dangerous, there was nothing there.

Our plan might have worked. We might have destroyed them for good, if we hadn’t been doomed from the start. Once it began to look like they might lose, they played their cards. They woke me up and re-established my connection to the Eye and tried to force me to make a statement. It would have drawn them into the station in their full power. They would have taken all of us. And that almost worked too. But the more I can see the harder it is to fool me…

So here were are.

I don’t know… I don’t know if the Doctor can still destroy you all, and… I wish I could help, but if I’m being honest, I’ve been more of a liability than an asset this entire time. And I realized there was only one thing I could to to keep them safe—to give them a chance at stopping you. I could leave. I could make the statement you wanted, but outside the station, drawing you to me—pulling all of you out of there like rotten teeth, freeing my friends from your influence.

You can take me now... See how much... good that does you. But we’ll never… find them again…We’ll never see them coming.

Go on… you wanted… me…

Oh, god… I can’t…

...can’t…

*click*

The blaring alarm woke Martin up.

The light was on, which was unusual. Had he left it on the night before? Had there been… someone else here?

Yes. Jon. But Jon was gone now—that was no surprise. He had always been leaving someday. He’d always been going away, hadn’t he?

What was the alarm about? Was the station in danger? Martin sat up on the bed and frowned at the flashing light. Too bright. Too loud. That wouldn’t do at all. It didn’t matter to him if the station was in danger. It barely mattered that the room was in disarray, with the IV stand lying on the ground, drawers open, bathroom and bedroom doors ajar.

Wasn’t there… some reason that should all upset him? Hadn’t there been something he’d wanted to do? Something he’d wanted to say to someone?

No, it was just the mess.

He got up off the bed and turned the light off in the bathroom, then shut the door, ignoring the smear of blood on the counter.

He walked over to the bedroom door and shut that too. He stood the IV stand up again and remembered enough to be worried that the alphabet soup was out, and that the IV needle had been yanked free. What had happened?

Where was Jon?

He… was gone. Entirely gone. Martin wasn’t sure how he could be so certain of this, but he was. He always had been. All of time had led up to this moment in which Martin was finally, hopelessly, blissfully alone.

A small part of him, deep inside, cried out in the dreadful emptiness, aching, and faint static buzzed in his ears as the room went out of focus.

The sound of the alarm faded to a distant ringing annoyance, blending in with the rush of the waves, and Martin released the IV stand and sat back on the bed, understanding.

This was not depression, after all, but the familiar gentle embrace of the Lonely. How nice, he thought as the cold seeped into his bones and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. How fortunate that he would find it again just when he needed it. That he didn’t have to remember what he’d wanted to say. That he didn’t have to wonder what he’d lost, that the pain was muted under a dull gray static, and he didn’t miss anyone. There was no one, really, to miss. Hadn’t he always been alone?

He floated in the eye of his own storm, drowning without a struggle, accepting his fate.

He was probably going to be here forever. It wasn’t as if he could leave. He couldn’t move from this spot again if he wanted to. The room was so vague and gray and barely here…

Something tugged at his peace.

A sound—a voice. Distant, echoing through everything, dragging him up toward the ceiling.

But… he was too heavy.

He started to slip back down.

No…

Swaths of color and light broke through as the gray was siphoned from him.

No.

He wanted to go too. He wanted to go to that voice it was…

It was Jon.

Jon!

The memory of him rushed back—every moment of it, expelling the Lonely, setting it free as it shot toward that distant voice and Martin fell back into the bed. The mattress springs made an awful shrieking noise as he landed and for a moment he lay still, stunned.

“God.” Brianna’s voice said. “You… you just appeared out of thin air!”

Martin sat up, ears ringing.

“Are you okay? Noah said he thought you were still in here, so I was waiting just in case, but… are you hurt?”

He wasn’t hurt. He looked around the room as it all came rushing back. “What happened?” he demanded. The alarm wasn’t blaring anymore, but… “What… Noah??”

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “He’s back. And Mendanbar and Steven too.”

“Really?” hope flared in Martin’s heart. Steven was back. That meant...

But she didn’t look as happy as she ought to. There was something guilty about her expression. Something worried.

“Where’s Jon?” Martin asked.

Reluctantly, she held out a folded piece of paper. “He wanted me to give you this.”

[Doctor,

The Fears have infiltrated the station. They’ve been here all along. By the time we cut off the Eye, all the others were already anchored to anyone susceptible. And even then, I was cut off from the Eye, but only because it was my decision to turn the screens off. It might still have been tethered to you, or others there.

I think our plan would have worked. That’s why they decided to strike now, because they’re running out of time—getting desperate. They want me to call them to the station, but instead I’m going to try to call them off of it. If I’m successful, you’ll be completely safe there. If not, you will want to evacuate.

If you evacuate, make sure everyone who gets on the TARDIS is clean. The flower crowns work—you can use them to cut people off from the Fears. You won’t even need more of them, just have each person wear one as they pass over the TARDIS’s threshold and then toss it out to the next person. Be careful not to take any Strangers. There are three that I can see. A night shift worker full of sawdust, a medical robot that’s gone rogue, and a little girl in the nine-year-old class who’s been terrifying the other students. Destroy them—incinerate them if possible.

Also, give the station a thorough sweep for cobwebs, block off any doors or hallways not on the blueprints, double check that everyone is accounted for and that you don’t have any missing or extra people. I can see the people we’ve lost to the Fears—I’ll try to bring them back to the station before I leave for good. If I can fetch Mendanbar, he’ll be able to tell you for certain whether the Fears are still there or not. If I can’t, you’ll have to make your best guess, but it might be safer to evacuate just in case.

I won’t be back. I’m sorry for what that does to the plan, but it isn’t safe—I compromise the station just by being there. I’m sure you’ll figure something else out. The Fears consider you a genuine threat, even without my involvement, and the combined power stored in Rung’s device will hurt them if you can force them to interact with it.

Be careful moving forward. Make sure no one comes or goes from the station without a flower crown, and keep the TARDIS protected as well. It should be safe to check the screens periodically, but don’t leave them running, just in case. I’ll do what I can from this side, but I can’t guarantee anything. It’s likely I won’t be in control of myself.

Don’t worry about trying to save me—we both know that’s a small matter in the grand scheme of things, and I’ve made my choice.

Good luck]

[Brianna

Remember what you promised me. Take care of him. See that he makes it out of this one piece

Thank you for everything]

[Martin,

My love, I don’t even know what to write. I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’m so, so sorry about all of this. I wish I knew a way to get you through it unscathed, but it was probably too late for that the moment you signed your contract with the Institute.

I’ve been stupid, as usual. I was cut off from the Eye, but the others were still hanging around—I should have thought of that. The Web left a little surprise for us in one of the dresser drawers, the Spiral’s eaten who knows how many station inhabitants, and I think the Lonely’s been feeding off of you again. I should have recognized that, but as always, I just assumed everything was about me. For that I’m sorry too, and I will try to free you from it again.

Unfortunately, this time that won’t mean me rushing onto some magical, fog-obscured seaside to bring you back. I’m not even sure that would work, what with everything. I don’t know how much of what you said yesterday was the Lonely talking, and how much was really you, but either way I suppose this is me giving you my answer.

I have to go back to them, to draw them away from the station, and you, and our only hope of destroying them. I don’t know if it’s the right choice or if there even is a right choice. Maybe this was doomed from the start. But staying gives the Fears an avenue into this place and I can’t do that. I truly am sorry.

I wish I could write more, but I only have so long before I slip up and bring them here. I love you. Whatever happens, however we meet next, whether we ever meet again or not, don’t doubt it. I will always love you.

Yours, one way or another, forever,

Jon]

Chapter Text

The noise, the knowledge, the sheer quantity of information was magnitudes larger than it had ever been before. Not only the suffering of one world, but tens of thousands fighting for space in one fragile mind.

It was no wonder that Jon went mad—that every thought and feeling and memory of his own was crowded out in an instant.

It was inevitable that he would shatter. That he would become like the Eye itself: something that watched without seeing, that knew without understanding, that was without truly existing.

The miracle—the truly astounding thing—was that it didn’t last. Jon’s mind expanded, adapted, came back together as the Eye changed him, cultivated, and grew him into a wide enough lens to receive all of it. As before, as always, he was a worthy vessel.

And so he rose again to the surface, re-forming, returning to himself, all knowing, but somehow, inexplicably, still...

Jonathan Sims, former head archivist of the Magnus Institute opened his eyes.

There was so much happening in the universe, so much to observe, to feel, to comprehend, that even in his newly-altered state it took him several excruciating, overwhelming minutes to focus on himself enough to take in his surroundings.

He was suspended in thin air… no. There was no air. But… he could still draw breath somehow. His arms and legs were bound in webs. He could barely move—he was caught in a web that spanned galaxies.

His wound was open. He’d bled through his bandages and his tattered shirt, and as he struggled, a few black droplets beaded off of the damp fabric and floated away, illuminated by a pale light from behind that he couldn’t turn to look at.

He could hear his own harsh breathing, but everything else was silent in the vacuum of space. The thick strands of web were sparse, but there were so many that they were all he could see with his eyes. There was no light filtering through from the stars he knew were there in the distance.

He couldn’t see the stars, but at the same time, he could see everything. He lost himself in that everything again for… he wasn’t sure how long. At least it was a distraction from the pain, from the fear, from the webs binding him.

He wasn’t the only one. The Web had brought many avatars from previous universes, trapped and enslaved. They hung as vague, dark, distant cocoons, in varying stages of living decay, with webs strung in and out of empty eye sockets, and between ribs, still making use of their bones and the traces of power left in them.

Even the more recent, more alive ones had webs interwoven in them, piercing through their flesh.

He was brought back to himself suddenly by the sensation of something crawling down the side of his face. He tried to shake it off, but could barely move his head. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he shut his eyes with some effort, feeling helpless. He didn’t need the Eye to know that it was a spider and not exactly a small one.

It paused on his cheek for a moment, clinging to his skin with its tiny, barbed legs.

Then it crawled into his ear. Jon shouted and struggled, but he couldn’t do anything as it dug deeper into the flesh of his ear canal. His screams died at his lips and the web seemed to tighten around his limbs and neck the harder he struggled.

But it was over quickly, and the thing crawled back out of his ear, leaving an unpleasant tugging sensation inside. It leaped off of him and Jon glanced up to see the spider floating through the nothingness, trailing white silk behind it as it wriggled and tumbled in the zero gravity.

It landed on another thick strand of web and reeled the silk in behind it until it was taut. Jon felt a tug on the inside of his ear and shuddered as the spider attached the line to the other strand.

“Awake, I see.” a voice vibrated in his attached ear and he winced at the noise that seemed to buzz through his skull.

No sound in space, he thought dully. She’s talking through the web. It seemed unnecessarily unpleasant, but who was he to say. At least the part with the spider in his ear was over.

“Well?”

A wide, hairy leg came into view and he watched warily as a creature came into view from behind him and slowly swung effortlessly through the thick, ropy webs nearby until they were facing each other. She was more spider than she had been last time he’d seen her, which was saying something.

“Annabelle,” he said, or tried to say, but again the words died at his lips. He could hear a faint echo of his own voice, but that was all.

“It is good to have you back, Archivist,” she said, and while her tone was calm, there was a harsh, grating quality to her voice that made the web stuck to his eardrum buzz painfully. “But I can’t hear you.”

Jon frowned at her, meeting her glassy round eyes, not sure if he actually cared. It wasn’t like he wanted to have a conversation with her.

“I almost wish we could keep you like this,” she said. “It’s really a shame I have questions I need answered. I suppose I’ll have to give you your voice back. You’re only dialed in on the receiving end at the moment, but we can fix that.”

He could hear them now, through the ear attached to the web. Hundreds of tiny legs.

He tried to shake his head, helpless, as they scrambled up his mummified arms.

Please, please no…

“Open wide,” Annabelle said.

He clamped his mouth shut, trying not to panic as the spiders began to crawl over his face, but they just found their way into his nostrils instead, and then his mouth too when he opened it to scream. They climbed down into his throat, clinging harder with their barbed feet the more he coughed and struggled. They stuck their webs to his vocal cords before climbing back out, trailing the strands out through his nose. Then he could hear himself screaming, through his connected ear, and the spiders crawled back down to crouch patiently on his arms and chest, it was over, finally.

Jon spat out a couple of crushed spiders, gagging on the bitter taste of their innards, mixed with blood from his coughing. He dry heaved for a bit and coughed some more, and then finally the pain in his chest was worse than the fading sensation of the tiny legs, and he stopped, trying to breathe slowly.

“Are you finished with the dramatics?” Annabelle asked, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes were definitely not human now, and her mouth was full of hairy, brown mandibles. Her voice was thick with clicks and whistles, but it was a wonder she could even talk at all.

Jon took another slow, shallow breath. “How is there air?” He wondered.

“The Vast is good with air,” Annabelle said. “If you don’t like it, I can just…” she reached out and plucked a string, and one of the distant cocoons twitched, and suddenly Jon couldn’t breathe. His lungs expanded at his will, but there was nothing to fill them. Once again, he couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything. But he knew he also couldn’t die.

Annabelle plucked at the web and Jon could breathe again.

“It’s inconvenient to have a lot of it,” Annabelle said. “But just enough to speak and breathe is nice, don’t you think, Archivist?”

Jon shut his eyes, gulping in air, chest aching, throat raw.

Feeling very fragile.

“Jon?” Annabelle said. “I asked you a question, but if you don’t feel up to chatting, I can always take the air away again. I wouldn’t want to waste it.”

“No,” Jon said. “I mean, yes, the air is nice.”

His voice buzzed in his ear in an irritating way, and he could feel it vibrating unpleasantly up his throat and through his nasal cavity as well.

“Very good,” Annabelle said. “Now, like I said, I have a few questions. Only one really important one, honestly, so we can start with that. Where are your friends hiding?”

Jon looked at her.

“Well?”

“You really expect me to tell you?”

His air was gone again. He tried to stop fighting, tried to calm his spasming lungs. It wasn’t like he needed air to survive. He was far, far past that now. He’d never been less human.

It still hurt. His body still reacted, panicking, even if his mind knew he was in no danger.

He gasped when the air came back. “I don’t know,” he said quickly. “I don’t know where they are. I never did. They never told me, we just… popped in and out from anywhere we wanted.”

Annabelle came closer. “How?” she demanded.

“...I don’t know how it works,” Jon said, coughing. “He has… a ship.”

“Who?”

“The Doctor,” Jon said. He watched dully as a small drop of his blood struck a strand of web and clung there, held to the line by surface tension, like a tiny red bead on a string.

“Tell me about him.”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Jon said. “You probably know more about him than I do.”

It was a lie.

Millions cried out for him, having met him, having been saved by him before, having heard of him through legend. They begged for his aid, pleading with him to rescue them, to free them from the nightmares they were trapped in.

“You are connected to the Eye,” Annabelle said. “Surely you can tell me something about him.”

The spiders on him started moving again, climbing up his arms and across his chest, tugging at his bandages.

“I-I don’t… I can’t see him,” Jon said, skin crawling, trying not to panic. “He’s hidden from me. Please…”

Annabelle came toward him, flicking droplets of blood from the webs as she used them to maneuver. He met her gaze as she stopped with her face less than a foot from his.

“Find them,” she said. “I know you can find them. They Eye doesn’t care what it sees, and none of our other puppets knows what to look for, but you do. Martin is there, isn’t he? You can always find Martin. Even after this…”

She pulled the loosening bandages free from his chest and Jon didn’t want to look as the little spiders swarmed near the open wound, attaching their webs to the edges of it.

He couldn’t do this. God, he couldn’t do it…

“Find them.”

Jon took a deep breath. “No.”

She hissed.

The webs connected to his chest yanked tight and he screamed as the knife wound was pulled and stretched. Impossibly strong, the webs held, and he felt his flesh start to tear. The pain drowned out even all of the stimulus from the Eye for a while, but eventually the agony faded and the distant screaming he could feel buzzing in his ear was his again. He quieted, slowly. He was soaked in warm, sticky blood. In the lack of gravity or air, it hung around him. It should be boiling in the low pressure, shouldn’t it? Or freezing in the cold.

Instead it just hung around him. God, there was so much blood… but it wasn’t real, any more than the webs were real. It was just a manifestation. He could probably bleed oceans and still be conscious.

It still hurt, god, it hurt. He wasn’t sure how long he could bear this. And he was almost certain Annabelle was right. He’d be able to find the station if he tried.

Eventually, he felt he could speak again, but wasn’t sure what to say.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t let them take Martin. The Doctor was more important, of course, but Jon had to focus on Martin. Thinking about Martin would keep him on the right track.

“Would you like to revise your answer?” Annabelle asked.

“I won’t look for them,” Jon reiterated, and braced himself for the pain.

It didn’t come.

When he opened his eyes, Annabelle was watching him in a calculating way. He stared back at her, trying not to let her see how close he was to breaking already. Martin. He had to keep thinking about Martin. He couldn’t let the Fears take Martin...

She clicked her mandibles irritably. “You know, this is so pedestrian,” she complained. “Torture is such a clumsy way to get what you want.”

The webs tightened fractionally again and Jon yelped and bit down on his tongue, tasting blood in his mouth.

“But you are undoubtedly stubborn. And the Eye makes you difficult to fool. Of course, if I cut you off from the Eye, you’ll be useless.”

“How...aaaahhh!!… How frustrating for you.”

“But I suppose if I get bored…”

“aaaaaaAAAHH… aaaahhh!”

“If I get bored, I could hand you off to one of the others. Let them all have their turn with you. I’m sure there’s a stranger manifestation somewhere that would like to skin you alive. I could give you to them next if you keep refusing my request.”

“nnnnggg… you… could, couldn’t you?” Jon blinked through tears of pain. “You… could… ha, that’s funnyaaaaahhh!!”

“What’s funny?” Annabelle snapped.

“You can do whatever you like to me. Tear me to pieces, torture me for centuries, pass me back and forth between the Fears, but… you can’t make me look for the others. Isn’t that… a bit embarrassing for a Web avatar? And you contraaaaaahhh! Aaaah! AaaAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The pain went on so long this time Jon really started to wish he could pass out. Surely he would have passed out by now if it was at all possible.

He thought, as the pain finally started to fade, that he’d really struck a nerve there. Something wasn’t right here. She… she shouldn’t need to do this…

“Find Martin,” Annabelle’s voice buzzed in his sore ear. “Don’t you want to find him? Don’t you miss him? He’s all alone without you.”

Jon met her gaze. “Make me,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Why can’t you make me?” he demanded.

She hissed at him.

“Tell me.”

“You…” she growled. “...are… the Archivist.”

Jon blinked.

The Archivist. Always the. Never an archivist. All the others had been pawns of the Eye, nothing more. He was something else.

He wore the Watcher’s Crown without losing himself. It was his voice that called the Fears. He had reconnected to the Eye after being severed from it.

Jonah and the Web had given him all this power, and now it couldn’t be taken away.

This was still his apocalypse. His Beholding.

He took in a deep breath that burbled nastily in his lungs. “Ceaseless Watcher—”

The air vanished.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“That trick won’t work,” Annabelle said. “I’m too strong to just be watched out of existence.”

He couldn’t breathe—couldn't see—not with all this blood and web and darkness.

With a silent shout, he pushed it all away so that he could see and there she was—a bug under a microscope. Annabelle Cane, more puppet than any of her victims, as weak and tractable as anyone she ensnared. Thousands of years old now and still afraid of anything that was the tiniest bit out of her control.

She fled.

He pursued. She was strong. She might kill him, or overpower him, weakened as his physical body was. He was afraid too.

But fear had never stopped him. If anything it spurred him on to greater recklessness, because he had to act before he froze up. He couldn’t think things through or he’d realize how terrified he was. He just had to keep moving forward, stumbling into each encounter without counting the cost. It had made him perfect for his role in all of this. Too perfect. And the the Web really should have known not to play with fire.

It had been a whole day before Martin could bring himself to read the letter Jon had left him. And then he read it over and over, looking for hidden messages that meant there was some way to get him back. But there was nothing. Just a few paragraphs, hastily scribbled, barely thought through, loving, apologetic, and foolish. A last piece of Jon.

He wished he could write back. He wished he’d had an opportunity to either talk Jon out of this, or insist on going with him, but the last thing he’d said—the last conversation they’d had, Martin had threatened to break up with him. Yes, he’d been under the influence of the Lonely, but that didn’t make it alright. He would do anything to take those words back. He’d do anything to spend those last few days with Jon instead of avoiding him.

Maybe if he had… if he hadn’t said all that would Jon still be gone? Would he have woken Martin up instead of leaving him asleep. Would Jon have trusted him? Would they have found another way, together?

He didn’t know. He read the letter again and again, but it didn’t help.

Jon had succeeded. The Fears were—as far as they could tell—actually, genuinely gone now. Mendanbar said he couldn’t sense them, and they were pretty sure they could trust him. Pretty sure. From his account of his experience, he’d been pretty close to becoming a Spiral avatar. Steven and Noah had had a rough time of it too, but both of them were recovering.

They’d seen Jon, just as Brianna had described him—IV ripped out, makeshift gag tied in his mouth, tape recorder in his hand. He’d found them, rescued them, brought them back to the station. Martin had heard him, when he’d called the Fears away.

Martin had almost gone with them

He wished he had. He wished he’d been that far gone.

Now what was he supposed to do?

The Fears were still at large, and Martin was stuck on this stupid space station with nothing to even care about anymore. Nothing except that Jon was still out there, probably gone, probably so far removed from who and what he’d started out as that Martin wouldn’t even recognize him.

There was a knock at the door.

Martin sighed and ignored it.

The knock came again several seconds later.

Fine. “Come in.”

The door was unlocked. Brianna and Rung had both asked him to leave it unlocked. They were worried about him, he knew, and it was annoying. He wasn’t exactly okay, but… he didn’t think he even had the energy at this point to try and hurt himself.

If the Fears won, Martin would just return to the Lonely. If they lost, and were destroyed, and Jon with them… well, Martin would worry about that in the unlikely case that it happened.

The door opened.

“Hey, Brianna,” Martin said glumly. “Didn’t you already check in on me today?”

“The Doctor wants you on the observation deck,” Brianna said breathlessly.

He looked up. “What?”

“The observation deck,” Brianna repeated. “Come on.”

“Why?” Martin got up.

“You’ll see,” Brianna said. “Come on.”

“Is it…” Martin hesitated, gripping the table. “Something to do with…”

“We don’t know,” Brianna said. “but… something is happening.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said and followed her out of the room. They walked quietly to the observation deck. Martin felt ill. If this had nothing to do with Jon… but if it did have something to do with Jon, that probably wasn’t good either.

They stepped into the room, and Martin looked up at the screens. The spider was twisting, writhing, bulging in odd places.

“Ah, welcome, Martin,” the Doctor said.

“That’s even more horrible than usual,” Martin said. “What’s happening to it?”

“Watch,” the Doctor said. “Maybe it’ll do it again…”

Martin watched reluctantly as the Spider pulled its legs into itself and started to swell up, growing rounder and paler until… hell…

The spider morphed into a single, rolling eye, vast as a galaxy, staring in every direction, pupils splitting off grotesquely to track all of the planets and stars moving around it.

Martin watched, heart aching, for a minute, but then the eye began to quiver. Eight legs pierced through its sides, stretching out to clutch at the web that spread across the sea of stars. The Eye twisted and shuddered, and the creature let out an unholy scream that Martin could feel in his bones.

“They’re fighting,” he breathed. “They’re fighting for control of the Fears. Jon is fighting the Web. He’s… he’s still in there.”

“Not necessarily,” the Doctor said. “The two forms—”

“He is still in there.” Martin insisted. “Why do you never listen to me? When have I ever been wrong? The Eye doesn’t fight. That’s Jon!”

The Doctor turned to look at him.

“We have to do something. To… to help him somehow.”

The Doctor shook his head. “As far as you’ve told me the Eye isn’t much better than the Web. Whoever’s dominant will still destroy this universe and then move on to the next.

“Well, we have to do something!” Martin said. “Get him out of there somehow? If it’s still him—if there’s a chance it’s still him in there…”

The Doctor shook his head, looking conflicted.

“I’ll go, myself,” Martin said. “Jon came after me when I was lost in the Lonely. I… I want to try to bring him back.”

“It’s too risky,” the Doctor said.

“Excuse me?”

“Martin…” Brianna said softly. “Jon wouldn’t want—”

“I don’t give a damn what Jon would want!” Martin said. “I don’t care if I don’t come back!”

“I’m not going to let you throw your life away for nothing,” the Doctor said. “Just because you’re upset.”

“Right! Like you weren’t going to let Jon throw his life away for your little plan?”

“That wasn’t for nothing,” The Doctor said.

Martin glared at him.

“I can’t save everyone,” the Doctor said. “But Jon sacrificed himself to—”

“No.” Martin said. “No. You don’t get to use that excuse. You could have saved him! You could have saved Jon if you’d just let Steven heal him from the beginning! We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d just…”

“We needed him,” the Doctor said. “All of our discoveries—”

“But you don’t need him now?” Martin demanded. “If he’s really all that important, why aren’t we going after him?”

The Doctor shook his head.

“You’re a selfish coward!” Martin accused. “You never meant for Jon to live through this! You don’t think he deserves to! You blame him for releasing the Fears from our universe!”

“I don’t have time for your temper tantrum,” the Doctor said. “Losing Jon is already a devastating blow, and we’re still trying to figure out—”

“It’s not his fault!” Martin said. “If anything, it’s...” his voice caught in his throat. “It’s mine.”

“No,” the Doctor said. “You both had a hand in it. The only difference is that Jon felt some measure of remorse for what the two of you did. Don’t lecture me on selfishness. You would sacrifice entire universes for one person. So would he. You’ve both proven that.”

Martin looked away. “So you do blame him. Both of us. Is that why you want him dead?”

“I don’t want him dead—”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Martin said.

Silence fell. The Doctor heaved a sigh and looked away.

“You don’t know,” Martin said. “You don’t know if I feel remorse. You haven’t once asked my opinion about any of this. I’m just dead weight, right? Just the annoying, tag-along boyfriend who gets in the way of your plans to sacrifice someone who… I don’t know if I can say Jon’s innocent, but he never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Are you finished?” The Doctor asked.

“Do you want me to be finished?” Martin said. “Because I was going to say that we can still save your universe if we rescue Jon. But if his survival is going to be a dealbreaker for you, there’s no point in bringing that up.”

The Doctor turned sharply to stare at him, then got up turned off the screens.

Martin crossed his arms.

The Doctor came back. “Do you have a plan?” he asked.

What a stupid question.

Then again, maybe the Doctor really didn’t understand. Martin reached into his pocket. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled out Jon’s letter and handed it over.

The Doctor read it, frowning, then looked up. “Yes,” he said. “That… might work. If you’re sure…”

“You didn’t ask Jon if he was sure,” Martin said.

The Doctor nodded and handed back the letter. “I’ll get the heroes together.”

Brianna listened with the others as Martin outlined his idea. She watched their faces as they listened to his new version of the plan. There were a few concerns brought up about the details, but it didn’t take a lot of discussion before it was agreed that it was a viable option. It wasn’t too different from what they’d decided to do before they’d lost Jon.

She worried about it, though, even more than she had with the old plan. She didn’t like how defeated Martin looked, as if it wasn’t really a rescue mission, after all, just a way for him to follow Jon.

She wanted to protest. She felt like she was breaking her promise, letting Martin do this. But… if it worked, it would save them. And if it didn’t… well, then what was the point? She couldn’t stop Martin anyway. He didn’t answer to her, and he was allowed to make his own decisions.

But she wished there was a way to protect him. To ensure he came back, and with Jon if that was possible.

It had to be possible. They had Steven back now…

“We should take a few days,” Viktor said. “And infuse Rung’s device with as much power as we can.”

“The longer we wait,” Martin said, “The more we risk Jon losing to the Web. The more he…”

“He can’t die, can he?” Sophie asked.

“I don't think so,” Martin said. “But he might need to be in control for this to work, and if the Web defeats him…”

“How long do you think he can hold out?” the Doctor asked.

Martin glared at him. “I don’t know. So the sooner we do this, the better.”

Silence fell around the table.

“Let’s give him two days,” the Doctor said.

Martin clenched his fists, but didn’t argue.

“A day and a half,” Viktor said. “The rest of today, and all of tomorrow. Then we enact this plan the next morning.”

The Doctor nodded. “Are we all in agreement?”

Heads bobbed around the table, some more reluctant than others.

“Then let’s get to work,” the Doctor said, and stood. The others got up as well and started talking about taking shifts powering Rung’s device. Martin drifted toward the door, and Brianna thought about following him, but then noticed the Doctor slipping into the TARDIS and decided he was the bigger priority at the moment.

He looked up from the controls as she came in. “Ah, Brianna,” he said. “I’m going to collect one last batch of flowers, if you’d like to join me.”

“Sure,” she said. “I want to talk anyway.”

He looked away.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And not in the normal ‘worried you’re going to do something noble and stupid’ way.”

He fiddled with the controls. “Well, that’s refreshing.”

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Is Martin right? Have you been planning for Jon to die this whole time?”

The Doctor sighed.

“Why?” Brianna demanded.

No answer.

“It’s not like you. It’s really not! I know you’re angry and scared, but—”

“Don’t lecture me.”

“It’s my job,” Brianna said.

He sighed.

“And don’t say ‘next time I’ll get a stupid companion.’ You’d never waste time on one who couldn’t see right through you. Why? Jon’s actions have caused terrible things to happen, but he didn’t intend harm to anyone, and he’s been willing to help fix it.”

“If this is your job, does that make me your boss? Can I fire you?”

“Don’t dodge my questions,” Brianna said. “What has Jon done to deserve death?”

The Doctor sniffed dismissively “I could take you to Noah’s universe and show you," he suggested.

“Bullshit,” Brianna said. “The Fears did that.”

“And he let them,” The Doctor said. “When faced with the choice to let his own world die, or unleash violence and terror on countless others, he chose the latter.”

“That doesn’t make him a villain,” Brianna said. “It just… it just makes him human.”

The Doctor shook his head and spoke quietly. “You think it was the right thing for him to do?”

“God, no,” Brianna said. “But it was about the most human thing I’ve ever heard of. I thought you liked humans.”

The Doctor seemed to consider that.

“It would be so easy,” Brianna said. “To give up on them. To give up on all of us because of our selfish mistakes.”

He removed his hands from the TARDIS controls, face a mask she couldn’t read.

“But the Doctor I know never takes the easy path. He keeps trying to save people, even if it’s dangerous, even if we don’t deserve it. Even if it seems like a lost cause. So why is this different?”

He looked at her, then, finally, and offered a hollow smile. “Next time I’m getting—”

“Doctor!”

He shook his head. "Alright," he said, and flipped a lever on the controls. Brianna heard the whoosh of the TARDIS.

“So…” she said after a few seconds, still uncertain. “Are we going to save Jon? Or abandon him?”

The Doctor breathed in deeply, and let out a quiet sigh. “Let’s go pick some flowers,” he said.

Martin couldn’t sleep. He tried—he needed rest before tomorrow, before they went forward with his plan, but he just couldn’t.

Any number of things could go wrong.

One or both of them could end up dead.

The Eye and the Spider were still fighting, though it seemed the Web’s terms in control were getting longer and the Eye’s shorter and weaker, which was frightening. He wished they’d just go now instead of waiting, but everyone wanted one last chance to add their replenished powers to Rung’s seemingly bottomless device, so Jon would just have to hang in there.

And then tomorrow…

Martin sighed and sat up.

The empty space on the bed next to him was like a dark pit, drawing him in, sending his thoughts spiraling.

He had lost Jon—he had pushed the man he loved away, threatened to leave him.

And then, just like before, Jon had left first. Jon had left without consulting him, or even telling him. It was the same story, all over again.

Last time, Martin had gone to try and stop him, but he’d been too late. He was too late this time, too. Days too late. And this time…

This time it wasn’t just a matter of climbing a staircase—he was going to have to fight his way through the Fears to get to Jon. What if he couldn’t? What if he wasn’t strong enough? Jon had come for him, saved him, sacrificed for him over and over. What had Martin ever done? Complained? Gotten himself kidnapped? Bandaged wounds that healed on their own just hours later? Offered moral support on occasion, but left whenever things got too unpleasant?

Could he really do this?

He got up and left the room. Pacing in the living room wasn’t enough, so he went to wander the halls. Before long, he found himself in the storage room with the TARDIS and went to knock on Rung’s wall.

It opened.

“Sorry to bother you,” Martin said. “If you were asleep.”

“I wasn’t,” Rung said. “But you ought to be resting.”

“I tried,” Martin said. “I… I can’t.”

“Would you like to come in?”

Martin stepped through the doorway and Rung closed the wall behind him. “Thanks.”

“Is there something in particular you want to talk about?”

“The Lonely,” Martin said. “What if… by the time I find Jon, what if I don’t even care anymore? I’ve never made my way out on my own. Jon always had to rescue me. It’s just… so hard to keep trying when I’m in its grasp. It’s hard to care whether I make it out again.”

Rung nodded. “I do know what you mean,” he said.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Rung sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Our emotions are very important. Some people consider themselves to be logical thinkers—to act based on fact and intellect rather than feelings. But that’s really very rare. Most of our decisions in life are emotional and we only use logic to justify them.”

Martin looked down.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to,” Rung said. “Some philosophers argue otherwise, but I think that’s what free will is—the ability to choose, on occasion, something that goes against our nature. Something that we don’t feel like choosing. Maybe you don’t need to want to save Jon in the moment. Maybe you can decide now, ahead of time. Maybe you can agree with your future self to do it, because you chose to, because you know it’s the right thing, because you know it’s what you will want when all of this is over.”

Martin nodded. “I.. I guess.”

“You guess?” Rung said.

“Right,” Martin said. “I… I will find him. I will find him, and I will save him and I’ll bring him back.”

Rung nodded. “Good.”

Martin sighed. “I wish he… I wish he’d at least woken me. But… well, we’re… not very good at trusting each other, are we?”

“Trust is hard,” Rung said. “Especially when it’s been broken in the past.”

“It would be easier, I think if he’d just… he’s so closed off. He wouldn’t talk to me about things. I… you know, even you had a hard time getting him to open up.”

“I did,” Rung said, looking a little reluctant.

“Why is he like that?”

“I… can’t discuss my other patients with you,” Rung said.

“Really?” Martin said. “What if it helps me to get through to him? I just… I feel like that might be important. Last time I talked to him I almost broke up with him and he just… he was clearly upset, but he just accepted it. Like it was inevitable, somehow, not suspicious or… am I that terrible of a boyfriend that he really thought I would just… try to force him to abandon an entire universe full of suffering people? God, maybe I am…”

Rung frowned.

“He’s gotten worse, too, about not telling me things. He… I need to know why. What am I doing wrong?. How can I reach him? Please. Is your… what, therapist code of ethics more important than this? I… I don’t know if I can help him if he won’t let me.”

Rung sighed. “I… I’ve had such a short time with both of you, I don’t know that I can give you a concrete answer. It’s probably more complicated than one big, easy-to-resolve issue.”

Martin looked down. He should have expected that.

“But maybe you have some thoughts on the matter. After all, you know him better than I do.”

“But…” Martin said. “I… he… I’m not… as good with people as I pretend to be. I’m… I’m good at, I don’t know, interacting with people, getting them to like me, but… I’m not good at genuine connections.”

Rung nodded. “Interesting.”

“You might not believe that, but—”

“No, I believe it.”

Oh. Martin looked down.

“You have as many walls up as Jon does, they’re just better hidden,” Rung said. “The two of you might be more similar in that regard than you think.”

“Does… that help or make it worse?”

“It depends,” Rung said. “Would you… at least say you have a genuine connection with Jon?”

“Yes,” Martin said, then doubted it. “I… I think so, at least.”

“I would agree,” Rung said. “At the very least, I think you both want a genuine connection with each other.”

Martin nodded.

“So… tell me why you have a hard time connecting with people, Martin?”

Martin shrugged. “Weren’t we supposed to be talking about Jon? Not me?”

“We’ll get there,” Rung said. “What makes it hard for you?”

“I… I guess I don’t… I don’t expect people to care about me, so I… I don’t care about them first. So they… can’t hurt me. I’m… I like people. And generally they like me too. But I don’t get too close.”

Rung nodded.

“I guess that’s probably because of my parents again.”

“At least, in part,” Rung said. “Do you think… that Jon has a hard time connecting with people for the same reasons, or different ones?”

“Jon…” Martin thought about it. “Different, I think. He… he pushes people away, keeps them out, but still genuinely cares about them. And you can tell he does. He cares more than anyone I know. He cares too much.”

“Then why is he so closed off?” Rung asked.

“He’s… sort of the other way around. He’s… well, I think he’s likable, but it’s easy to be angry at him, because he gets too involved. He’s… too honest. And… and takes things too personally. He’s… and he knows that. He knows he makes people uncomfortable, so he just pushes them away right out the gate. And he’s scared… he’s scared people will get hurt, just by knowing him.” Martin sighed. “He’s scared he’ll drag them down. So he pretends. He acts all superior and aloof, and won’t let anyone help him.”

Rung nodded.

“And it got worse. At the Institute. I mean it was bad before. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he’s said things that make me think he felt like… like a burden to his grandmother, and… well, there was that whole thing with the spider book and the bully kid. And then at the Institute… is that why he was so concerned about me out of nowhere when Jane Prentiss was after me? It’s because he feels like… like everyone around him just gets hurt or killed. He’s spent his whole life desperately trying to stop it and... Sasha got… taken, and he tried to send me and Tim away once he’d figured that out, but he was so obvious about it, and we ended up going back and getting in trouble anyway. And then Tim… and…. And then he… Jonah used him to start the apocalypse and then everyone on the whole planet had been hurt or killed because of him… God, I wouldn’t want to talk about my feelings either.” Martin shook his head. “And he really took it all to heart, and blamed himself, and that was part of what made him so perfect for the role, because the thing he’s always been most scared of is… watching people get hurt because of him.”

Silence fell.

“See?” Rung said. “You know more about him than you think you do.”

“It’s a wonder he… he even talks to me at all,” Martin said. “It’s not like… I didn’t always do a good job supporting him, or really reassuring him that I knew he…” He took a deep breath. “But I really do love him,” he said firmly. “And I’m going to find him. And I’m going to tell him…” Martin sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I do understand.”

Rung nodded.

“Thank you,” Martin said. “I think I… ought to get some rest.”

“Good.”

“Really, though, thank you. For everything. I don’t think we would have made it through this without you.”

Rung sighed. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not over until tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, it would be over, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Jon was tired of fighting. He could overpower Annabelle temporarily, but the Web was tenacious. It fought with intention. The Mother of Puppets supported her avatars with real strategy, hitting where it hurt, using Jon’s weaknesses against him. The Eye was powerful—it had been the Watcher’s Crown that had finally succeeded after all, but power didn’t win every fight, and it was so distracting having an entire universe of suffering in his head.

He tried to hold on to why he was doing this—to the thought of Martin… but he would probably never see Martin again. He couldn’t even look for him—couldn’t even try.

“I don’t know what you think to accomplish,” Annabelle said, voice coming from all sides.

They were in several places at once. Jon was still suspended in space, with the silky strands connecting him by eardrum and vocal cords to the web. But he was elsewhere too. There was fog, and darkness. There were trees and tunnels. It was hard to keep track of it all.

“The Eye isn’t likely to let you go. When we’re done feeding on this universe, we’ll go to another, and another, and you’ll come with us.”

And Watch.

And he would keep Watching forever.

“Struggling isn’t going to change that,” Annabelle said. “You’re not helping anyone or anything, just hurting yourself.”

She had him by the throat, physically or psychologically, he couldn’t tell which, but he couldn’t breathe.

“Doesn’t it hurt, holding out? You’re not just fighting me you’re fighting your own patron. It wants to know. It wants to see into all of its little blind spots. It wants to see where Martin is, because it wants to see everything. Why do you so stubbornly want something different? Wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t give in. They’d take Martin. They’d give him back to the Lonely. He shook his head.

“I just don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”

“What?” he said. “You’ve never loved anyone?” His voice sounded quiet and hoarse, weak compared to hers.

She laughed. “Oh, it is about Martin, isn’t it?”

He clenched his fists.

“But I still don’t get it. The worst that’ll happen to him is he’ll step back into his own as an avatar of the Lonely. He’ll come with us too. You’ll be together, forever. Isn’t that what you want?”

If he let go… yes, they’d be together in a way, but it wouldn’t matter anymore, would it? He wouldn’t care about Martin, he would be too preoccupied feasting on the horror all the other fears inflicted, watching it, absorbing it, becoming it. And Martin… Martin wouldn’t care about him either. Maybe he already didn’t. After all, Jon had really left him behind this time.

“Yes,” Annabelle said gently. “There’s no point to fighting. Not when it’s just keeping you from everything you want.”

Jon pulled free of the webs that had appeared around him. They were strung right into his flesh, but he didn’t care—they healed quickly. The only wound that stayed stubbornly open was the chest wound. Annabelle had no idea what she was talking about. Giving in was the last thing he wanted to do, and she still couldn’t make him do anything.

He threw himself at her, demanding to see her, to know all of her schemes and lies and failures and fears, and she retreated until he once again sat at the helm, watching over his kingdom, seeing all of it without any interference.

He was grateful, at least, that they hadn’t found a replacement for him—that no one else had been forced to take this role.

He would hold it as long as he was able. Until she came back with a counter-attack to dethrone him.

He wished he could rest. He wished this was more of a respite, but even as he was, it was overwhelming to take it all in. To hear them all crying out for their loved ones, for help, for the Doctor, for their various gods, who—if they existed—were powerless in the face of the Fears, who likewise called for aid that would never come. He could see them all, hear them all.

He could hear…

Someone calling to him.

It was…

Martin.

No.

No!

But he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t keep from looking, not in this state.

Where was he? Jon could sense him faintly—far away, farther than he ought to be. Wasn’t the station…?

Wait.

Martin wasn’t on the station.

He was… somewhere else. Somewhere even Jon was having a hard time seeing because it was so distant. Somewhere… outside of this universe altogether. Another universe An empty, desolate universe.

The Lonely was already reaching patiently for him, toward the narrow gate that led there…

The plan.

They could still get the Fears out of this universe, still defeat them. The thought of being cut off from all the information flowing through him gave him pause. He knew the gate would close if he went through, trapping him, blinding him, depriving him and all the Fears of their sustenance. He couldn’t…

It would kill him.

As much as he tried to tell himself that didn’t matter, he was still afraid…

But...

He focused on Martin, on reaching him, on seeing him again one last time before it was all over. He tried to listen to only Martin’s voice, ignoring everything else. Martin was calling for him—Martin needed him. He had to go—had to let himself believe, finally, that the only thing that mattered in this or any universe was the man he loved beyond reason.

It wasn’t a difficult mentality to adopt.

He heaved, dragging the Fears with him toward the gate.

It was at that moment that Annabelle attacked.

Brianna looked up as Jayce and Viktor rematerialized—well, mostly rematerialized. Part of Viktor’s face, and one of his arms, was wispy and half-formed.

“Viktor!” Jayce caught him as he collapsed.

The Doctor looked over from the controls. “What’s going on?”

“The… metaphysical realm has…” Viktor staggered to his feet, assisted by his partner. “Become turbulent. We can’t…” He gasped and almost collapsed again. “We need to keep our essences here for now.”

“The gate?” the Doctor said as Steven wandered over, looking worried.

They’d left as many of the heroes as they could back at the station. Steven was here of course, as well as the two metaphysicists. Brianna had insisted on coming, to see Martin off, and the Doctor wasn’t going to let anyone else try to drive the TARDIS.

“Can I help?” Steven asked.

“I don’t doubt your magic could repair me,” Viktor seemed to have regained his balance and was standing on his own again. “But I think… there.” His arm started to reform properly. “I won’t be needing your assistance in this case. Save your strength for Jon.”

“The gate?” the Doctor demanded.

“It will remain open,” Viktor said. “But things will need to calm down before I can return to close it. We will have to wait until the Fears are through.”

The Doctor nodded, but looked nervous.

“They are definitely moving toward it,” Jayce said. “Martin was right about Jon having the power to do that.”

Viktor nodded. “I worry that… it seems they are resisting him in some way.”

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “The spider seems to be trying to wrest control again. I’m watching it on—”

Everything suddenly tilted sideways and Brianna tripped and almost fell before somehow regaining her footing.

But now she was elsewhere in the control room and everyone was gone.

And… no, this wasn’t the control room, exactly, because the console was in the wrong place and the external doors were missing, and the doors leading to other parts of the TARDIS…

She walked toward one and opened it, onto another console room that was also not quite right. A deep unease welled up inside her.

This... was not good.

Jon didn’t care if the Spider won, if it wrapped him in webs, if it tore him apart. He only cared about reaching Martin, and so he heaved, pulling with all of his might, tearing the Fears free of their victims as he drove desperately toward the gate. Toward the gate…

Toward Martin.

It seemed to take eternity and he could feel the storm sending bolts of lightning through him as the Fears tried frantically to stop him, to pull away from him. But the Eye wouldn’t withdraw from him or abandon him. It wanted to see Martin too, in its own way, and it saw temporarily open gates and schemes but didn’t comprehend them. It saw the TARDIS now too. The Corruption had withered the flowers, and the Spiral had finally claimed the incomprehensible, inter-dimensional creature, scattering her inhabitants into endless loops, losing them in her domain.

Not good. Jon had to get through the gate and drag the Fears with him, or they’d all be lost forever.

But he was weakening.

He wasn’t sure he’d make it.

He reached out for Martin, but Martin had stopped calling for him, and seemed so far away still…

Martin knew the Fears had arrived when the sky started to boil. Clouds rolled in, instantly. The world turned bitter and frightening, and dark shapes appeared among the barren rock formations. Strangers, hunters, twisted, bent-out-of-shape creatures. The sun blinked out, then opened again as an angry red eye, watching him.

None of it could touch him, though.

He was too busy being alone to bother with any of it.

The Lonely wasn’t a perfect shield against the other Fears, but it helped. It carried him, sheltered him, made everything else fade into insignificance. It didn’t matter how vast the universe was if he was the only person in it. It didn’t matter what monsters he met if none of them were people.

So they kept their distance out of equal apathy. The only thing he was afraid of was that Jon didn’t need him, that the Doctor wouldn’t return for him. That no one cared about him, or knew him, or even knew he existed.

They probably wouldn’t, after this.

He had sort of expected Jon to show up, hadn’t he?

But time passed, and he didn’t, and Martin started to think he really never would—that Jon must be too far gone, that he really didn’t care anymore. That he’d wanted to leave…

That… no, that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Martin was saving Jon this time.

It sounded so… exhausting. Why bother? Why bother when there might not be anything left of him, and if there was… well, the whole thing was sure to be unpleasant. It was pleasant here. It was quiet. It was peaceful. He didn’t have to untangle all of his feelings about almost breaking up with Jon… about Jon leaving again.

But… he had decided that he would be looking for Jon.

He had wanted to find Jon.

He took a step forward, then stopped again. It wasn’t like he knew where he was going. And even if he did, the world could shift, taking him with it. He could be wandering in circles forever. He’d never made it out of the Lonely on his own before. Why was he bothering to try now?

And yet…

Any time Jon had led him out of the mist, it had only been a few steps. Was that Jon’s powers, or…

Did the Lonely only feel endless, when it was actually very small?

Martin took another step.

It might be moving with him. He might be stepping out of the fog only for it to cover the next few feet of the path.

He should give up now, turn back, let the Lonely take him. He was so tired, and it wasn’t like Jon loved him, really, that was…

No. Jon loved him. Whatever else, Martin would hold onto that fact. Jon had written it in the note. He loved Martin

And he needed Martin.

Ten more steps. Martin would walk ten more steps before he gave up. Maybe twenty. Maybe… maybe he would keep walking, even if he didn’t know how long it would take or whether he would be free. Maybe it wasn’t about the number of steps.

He took another step.

The fog cleared, leaving gravel beneath his feet, a path through the pine trees. Martin breathed a sigh of relief, and looked around, feeling a mix of triumph and unease. He was out of the Lonely… probably. But where was he now?

Trees. Wasn’t he on a lifeless alien planet? Wasn’t he… his oxygen mask was gone. He shouldn’t be able to breathe here, but…

The fog retreated further to reveal a building up the gravel road that looked out of place nestled in the woods.

A familiar building.

The Magnus Institute.

Martin hesitated.

It… couldn’t be here. It had been blown up. Then again, none of this was possible, and it wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened. He walked toward it and pulled the doors to the archives open with difficulty. There was something pulling back on them, keeping them closed. He heard it like rush of static, like a thousand tiny soap bubbles popping, like cotton tearing, as he dragged the door open.

The entire entrance was white with spiderwebs, making an eerie fog that obscured everything in pale gray.

Well, great.

Martin tried to find a place where the webs were thin enough for him to step through. He had to cover his face, and even so, webs stuck to his skin, his clothes, his hair.

Wincing, he kept pushing in, and found that after the first few feet, it cleared out a bit. He lowered his arm and looked around. There were still webs taking up the corners of the hall, and crisscrossing here and there. It gave the hallway a rounded, cave-like look.

He glanced behind himself, to see spiders already repairing the hole he had torn through the entry-way.

Lovely.

A heavier scuttling sound brought his attention back to the front, and he watched a monstrous, many-legged beast creep out to block his way.

“Hmm,” he said. “Hello, Annabelle. Long time no see.”

“It seems to have been longer for me than for you.” She said, voice deeper and more gravelly than he remembered, with more clicking and whistling and turning her head to see with all of her many eyes.

“Where’s Jon?” Martin demanded.

“Thank you for joining us,” Annabelle ignored his question. “I think things will go better. He’s a lot less stubborn with you around.”

Martin frowned. Had he just… walked into a trap? That would be incredibly embarrassing. “What do you mean? Where is he?”

“You make such good collateral. After all, that is how I convinced him to hear me out in the first place.”

Martin took a step away from her. “He’ll protect me from you.”

“Exactly,” Annabelle clawed her way closer on her hairy spider legs. “Just like he always has. He’ll do anything to keep you out of harms’ way.”

She sounded confident, but there was a desperation to her movements and she was injured, missing a leg, leaking blackish-green liquid from the severed stump. She looked exhausted. It hadn’t been easy for her, fighting Jon. Was she speaking the truth about using Martin to control Jon, or was she bluffing? She hadn’t seized him yet, wrapped him up, dragged him off to wherever Jon was.

“Where is he?” Martin demanded again. “I’ll… I’ll protect him from you, this time.”

She raised one and a half legs in a sort of shrug. “If you want. Of course, the best way to protect him would be to convince him to stop fighting me. Which you will do for me, won’t you?”

Martin hesitated. “I don’t think so.” Was this part of her plan? Was he just going to make a mess of everything? Had this whole rescue been a terrible mistake that would only make things worse?

Was this how it felt to be Jon?

“Where. Is. He?”

“In his office,” Annabelle said. “He’s very busy. But I suppose you could stop by and see if he has time for you.”

What was she playing at?

“Go on,” she said. “Didn’t you come all this way to see him?”

If she wanted him to find Jon…

“Unless you don’t want to see him? Or you’re worried he might not want to see you? You broke up with him, didn’t you? I barely believed it—”

“We didn’t break up!” Martin said.

She shrugged again. “If you say so.”

“What have you done with him?”

She pinned Martin with a disappointed look. “You have two choices, in essence,” she said. “Go see for yourself. Or go away.”

And she melted back into the gray fog of the web.

She… did she want him to go find Jon or not? It was hard to tell. She’d told him Jon was in his office, but she’d also essentially promised to use Martin to threaten him. So… whatever she wanted, Martin should probably do the opposite, but…

But, well, there was really only one choice, which meant it was probably what she wanted him to do. And that wasn’t ideal, but he hadn’t come all this way to not find Jon.

He tightened his grip on the shoulder bag he was carrying and pressed forward, into the cobwebs. She might think she was in control, but he had a plan too… one he was pretty sure she didn’t know about.

The lights in the archives were dim and flickery, but bright enough for Martin to see by. Jon’s office door was closed, and there was a dark stain spreading from the crack under it. Martin rushed over and had to work hard to heave the door open—it was so caked with webs.

He stopped in the doorway, staring in horror, mouth dry.

For one horrible moment, he thought Jon was dead, but then the man opened his eyes and looked up.

Martin unfroze. “God,” he stumbled over. “Oh, god, Jon, I thought for a second... don’t move, don’t…” He looked too closely and had to look away, feeling sick.

Jon hung, suspended by spiderwebs that pierced his flesh ranging from the thinnest silvery hair to as thick as yarn. They were threaded through every limb, joint of his fingers, and muscle in his face. The wound in his chest had grown into a jagged gash that stretched diagonally from one shoulder almost to the opposite hip. It bled profusely, soaking the tattered remains of his clothes, and blood dripped steadily from his left shoe to the ground, joining the puddle on the floor.

“M-marcchhkkkk. Hmmmm….mmmmm.”

Martin looked up to see Jon struggling as the webs pulled his mouth shut tight. Fresh blood beaded at the holes where the strands pierced his face.

“Don’t.” Martin took a step forward again, steeling his nerves, trying not to look anywhere but Jon’s eyes, which were clear, burning with the intensity of the Eye, red-rimmed with weeping, tired, somehow still…

“I’m getting you out of here,” Martin said, and reached out. His hand bumped one of the thicker cords threaded through Jon’s arm, and Jon flinched and screamed through sealed lips.

“Sorry,” Martin said. “Sorry, oh god… how do I do this?”

The webs relaxed on Jon’s face and he opened his moth. “Don’t,” he said, voice rough and raspy. “Don’t touch me.”

“Jon…” Martin hesitated. “We… we have to get you down from there.”

“You never do anything…” Jon rasped, then twitched, struggling, blood dripping down his face. “But… hurt me… don’t touch me.”

Martin took half a step back. “You don’t… I…”

“I wish I’d never met you,” Jon said, then struggled again, mouth clamped shut, pleading with his eyes.

Martin stared at him, thinking. This was definitely still Jon, but that was obviously not true. The webs must be moving his mouth for him, plucking at his vocal cords, forcing him to speak. Martin smiled weakly at him. “It’s alright.” he said, then turned to glance back out the door. “I won’t fall for that. I know he loves me—you’re not very good at playing Spiral—you can’t trick me into thinking he doesn’t.”

“Good.” Annabelle’s voice said, sending a shiver through all the webs. “I'm glad you weren't fooled.”

The door swung closed, and Martin was too late to catch it before it slammed shut. He tried the handle, but it seemed to be locked.

"Great," he said, looking back at Jon. "Now what?"

"Now you do what you've always done," Annabelle's voice said, somehow just as loud as it had been with the door open. "Jon might not have believed what I made him say about you, Martin, but to some extent it's true. You've done very little to help him. Really, you've been more of a help to the Fears, even from the beginning."

Martin looked down and Jon hummed angrily.

“You were the one who brought the worms to the Institute—who led Jane Prentiss to him.”

Martin shook his head.

"You deny it? It was cleverly done, passing the danger to Jon and your other co-workers. Despite being the first assistant to be targeted by Prentiss, you alone escaped from her unscathed. Are you so certain that was not by design?"

Martin looked away. It was true he hadn't been hurt by the worms. But... he hadn't intended to get anyone else hurt either.

“You downplayed it afterward,” Annabelle said. “You pretended it was over. You offered tea and false assurances and when he found out that poor Sasha was dead, you let him send you away to protect you again.”

“I went back,” Martin said “Tim and I went back.”

“Yet he faced the impostor alone,” Annabelle said. “And you didn't even pretend to help with stopping the Stranger's ritual. Poor Jon. So desperate to save someone it never occurred to him that it wasn’t him—that you were just saving yourself at his expense.”

“I didn’t—”

“I could go on,” Annabelle’s voice said. “I could talk about how you abandoned him when he woke from his coma, pushing him to greater self destruction. How you lured him into the Lonely after you. I wonder how many Fears had a chance to mark him because of you specifically."

“No.”

“In the end, it was you who convinced him to follow my plan instead of his own, leveraging your own life against his determination to quarantine the Fears.”

"I didn't mean for—"

"I know," Annabelle said. "I don't think you did any of it knowingly, but deep down I think it was intentional, calculated by some part of your subconscious. Just like this little adventure is. You didn't really come here to save him."

"Shut up," Martin said.

The webs shifted and tightened around Jon, moving his mouth for him, pulling at the muscles in is throat. "I can speak through... him instead, if... you prefer."

"Don't," Martin said. "Stop.”

"He's..." Jon rasped, trembling, bleeding. "Only under... my control because you... distracted him."

"Stop it!" Martin said.

He heard her laugh, and Jon screamed and went limp again, blood flowing even more freely from his chest. He made a wet, choking sound and spat out a mouthful of blood. 

“Jon…” Martin wanted to help somehow, to do something… to comfort him, at least. But it would only hurt him, even without all the webs threaded through him.

"What should I make him say?" Annabelle's voice said. "Archivist, I'm sure Martin's true motivations must come as a shock. Would you like to share your thoughts on the matter?"

Jon fought, but his mouth moved anyway. “You... used me,” he gasped out. "You never... loved me."

Martin clenched his fists. “Stop fighting it,” he said. “Jon, please, I know it's her, not you."

She was wrong. She was lying, trying to manipulate him. He'd never meant for Jon to get hurt. He'd never...

He could still remember the knife in his hands, wet with Jon's blood. Could that encounter have ended any other way? Could he have stopped Jon beforehand? Should he have stopped Jon at all? His interference had resulted in so many people dying in other universes...

“Tell him how you feel about him, Jon," Annabelle said.

Jon fought harder. “I… nnnggggg…. Hate you.”

“Oh, my,” Annabelle said, voice still calm. “Hate is such a strong word.”

“Stop this,” Martin said. "Jon, listen, there's nothing she could make you say that would hurt me. Just stop fighting her."

"Yes, Jon, stop fighting," Annabelle said. "Wouldn't that be nice? Unfortunately, Martin's wrong about your words. They can be quite harmful. Deadly even. And we know what you do to Fear avatars you hate, Archivist."

Jon struggled desperately, screamed a real, raw, agonized scream.

“No,” Martin said. “Jon, please, please…” 

The web tightened its grip on him, re-positioning him in the air, twisting his limbs in place. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood. “Ceaseless… Watcher…” He said, eyes pleading with Martin. “Ca… aaaahhh….ast… your… gaze...”

A rushing sounded in Martin’s head. His ears popped. Annabelle was forcing Jon to use the Eye against him—to destroy him. He locked eyes with Jon for what would be the last time, and they shared the panic, the pain, the guilt... dreading the next words...

Then Annabelle laughed again and Jon went limp, sobbing as the static faded. Martin took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. He'd just almost died. God, that had been close...

“Well?” Annabelle said. “How about that? I didn’t know for certain if that would work, but it looks like I can make you kill him, can’t I?”

“Please,” Jon gasped. “Please, no…”

This was her play. Not just threatening to kill Martin, but forcing Jon to kill Martin. It would break him, one way or another.

“You know what I want,” Annabelle said. “I already have the Doctor. I just need the rest of your little heroes on the station. I just need you to pull us back into the universe we belong in. You’ve lost already—what difference does it make if you let me finish it?”

“Martin, go,” Jon said. “Get out of here. Use the Lonely. Go back...”

Martin hesitated.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Annabelle said. “Where could he possibly go that you couldn’t see him?”

Jon hung his head.

“What are you holding out for?”

“You’re bluffing,” Jon said. “If you make me kill him, I’ll have nothing left to lose.”

"Exactly," Annabelle said. "You would have no reason to hold yourself apart from the Eye, no reason to be Jon anymore. You would have no reason to keep fighting. So, either you'll do as I ask, or you'll kill Martin, maybe throw a bit of a tantrum, but then eventually do as I ask anyway." 

“Martin, go,” Jon said again. “Please. I don’t know if she can stop you. For… nnnggg… for some reason , she hasn’t tried to catch you in the Web.”

"Did you not hear what I was saying?" Annabelle asked. "I have never needed to force Martin to do anything. He's always so agreeable."

“Hey,” Martin rounded on the closed door behind him. Where was she? “How is she even… talking like she’s in the room?”

“She’s… taahh! She’s talking through the webs.”

“Don’t,” Martin said. “Just take it easy, Jon, don’t say anything.”

“Why… why aren’t… you going?”

“Jon, what did I just say?”

“Please.”

“I’m not leaving your side. She… she’s right, dammit.”

“Martin…”

“I don't know what to do," Martin said, trying to think. "But I'm not abandoning you, even if that's just playing into her hands.”

Jon stared at him, devastated.

“God, I… I want to hold you,” Martin said. “But… it would… I can’t, without hurting you. All of this... it's all my fault, isn't it.” It had been a trap. Of course... Martin had his own trap, as it were. He gripped the strap on the bag slung over his shoulder. He could...no, it was too risky with Annabelle controlling Jon. They probably had to deal with her first, before anything else. 

“Make a choice, Jon,” Annabelle said.

Jon gritted his teeth and hissed in a shaky breath. “No.”

“You know I have the Doctor.”

“Is she... telling the truth about that?” Martin asked.

“The Spiral,” Jon said. “It has the TARDIS.”

Martin swallowed. “That… um… was going to be our ride out of here.” Annabelle could make Jon kill Martin, but it would be a risk. She'd prefer it if Jon just gave her the station. That meant they could stall for a bit—keep her talking while they figured something out. 

“The station is safe for now,” Annabelle said. “But they can’t go anywhere. They’ll die, all of them, and never return to their own universes, even if you don't tell me where they are.”

What was there to figure out, though? Annabelle was controlling Jon. Martin couldn't do anything on his own.

Jon glanced at Martin, then down again and Martin could see the gears turning in his head. He was thinking too, now. That was good. Thinking instead of panicking was always good.

After a few seconds, Jon looked back at him urgently, questioning. He'd had an idea.

Martin nodded slightly. If there was any time to trust him...

“I still think you’re bluffing,” Jon said, holding Martin’s gaze.

“We are trapped between two universes,” Annabelle said. “Spread across both of them.”

“Oh,” Jon said bitterly. “Is that a bit uncomfortable for youaaaaaahhhhh!!!!”

“Stop!” Martin said. “Stop—stop hurting him!”

Annabelle continued. “Either you pull us back into the Doctor’s universe,” she said. “Or you kill him.”

Jon trembled.

“Even if…” Martin said. “Jon it wouldn’t be you killing me. It wouldn't be your fault.”

Jon looked at him, scared.

“It’s okay,” Martin said. “If… look, if her killing me gives you the rage you need to finish her off, it might be worth it.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Jon said. “It would never be...”

“Not even for all those people who could be free of her—of all the Fears? Maybe… maybe we die together. Is that… so bad?”

Jon looked steadily at Martin, and Martin knew there was a gamble in this somehow. A counter-bluff. Jon might as well have said it out loud, but Martin tried to play along, hoping Annabelle hadn’t noticed. Hoping that it was a better-than-average Jon idea and not something that would backfire horribly.

“Enough,” Annabelle said. “Choose.”

“I’m not moving the Fears,” Jon said. “We can stay stuck here forever for all I care. And I’m not showing you the station, and I’ll get the Doctor and the TARDIS free too. There is still nothing you can do to make me your puppet, Annabelle.”

“Is that so?”

Jon screamed as the webs tightened again, pulling him stiff.

Martin braced himself.

“Ceaseless… Watcher…”

The webs had control of his voice again. The words were dull, listless, but not strained. Jon wasn’t fighting this time.

“Cast your gaze….”

The static was loud in Martin’s ears and he could feel the full focus of the Eye turning on him, but he kept his eyes trained on Jon’s face, determined that if he died, the last thing he would see...

Jon didn’t meet his gaze, though, looking past him instead. Through him, beyond him...

“...upon…”

And then his face changed suddenly and he twisted in the web, buying himself just half a second of freedom.

“Annabelle Cane!” he roared.

Silence.

The Eye’s gaze diverted elsewhere.

Cobwebs drifted lazily from the ceiling.

“See her failure,” Jon said. “Her arrogance. Her traps reversed, her confidence; her downfall. See how she lost, after she had already won—aaahh!!” the webs tightened around him, but he was in control of his own voice now. “Because… because it was never enough to beat me. She wanted to own me—wanted complete control. But you cannot manipulate someone who knows. You lost me the moment you played your hand, back on our native world. And there was never anything you could do to fool me again.”

The webs vanished.

Martin dove forward to catch Jon as he fell.

He managed it this time, grimacing as hot, sticky wetness soaked through his shirt. He knelt carefully on the squelching carpet so he wasn’t supporting all of Jon’s weight as he cradled his boyfriend in his arms.

And they were alone now.

"That was brilliant," Martin said. 

Jon shook his head. "I was scared I wouldn’t be able... but..." he smiled. “You really… You came…”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Figured I’d shake it up a bit and rescue you this time.”

“Heh..” Jon grimaced. “I’m… I’m getting blood all over you.”

“I don’t care.”

Jon shuddered in his arms.

Martin swallowed. “God, I… I did this…”

“Martin, no, you—”

“Don’t just tell me I’m perfect and not allowed to be sorry.”

Quiet fell between them as Martin tried to work out everything he wanted to say.

“I… look, Jon—”

“She was wrong,” Jon said, wincing. “Don’t let what Annabelle said get to you—she was just trying to—”

“No,” Martin said. “Don’t talk. Just listen, alright? She… she wasn’t entirely wrong. I… of course I never meant to hurt anyone, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never been selfish or… or unkind or… or even manipulative.”

Jon shook his head.

Martin sighed. “I love you,” he said. “I think it’s… really sweet that I can do no wrong in your eyes, but… can you let me apologize? Please?”

Jon hesitated.

“Please,” Martin said again, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. “I don’t know if… I just want to make things right.”

“...okay,” Jon said quietly.

Martin took in a deep breath. "First, I’ve been thinking about… during the apocalypse I… I'm sorry I never stuck around for the statements.”

Jon blinked up at him. “What?”

“I always left,” Martin said. “I always walked away, put my fingers in my ears, ignored it. And then I complained that you were closed off...”

“You don’t need to—Martin, you didn’t have any obligation to listen to those, and you hated them. Honestly, I preferred you not hear them anyway.”

“Because they might remind me you weren’t really human anymore?”

Jon looked stricken. “I…”

“And I acted ashamed of that,” Martin said. “I tried to ignore it, like I ignore all the bad bits.”

“But you didn’t have to—”

“You did, though,” Martin said. “It’s not like you could just plug your own ears and not know what you were saying. And even when you weren’t making a statement, you knew everything that was happening everywhere, and that weighed on you and I… I just made light of it, acted annoyed about it.”

Jon reached up to Martin’s face, then seemed to think better of it, rubbing the half-dried blood between his fingers. “It… was nice that you made the situation a little lighter. I don’t know if I could have been… If I’d have been able to keep going if you were all… doom and gloom about it.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “It… it was a way of coping, I guess. For my benefit and yours, but… it wasn’t honest. And it was too often at your expense.”

Jon opened his mouth to protest, but Martin spoke first.

“I jokingly called you the antichrist to Georgie.”

Jon stared at him for a moment, then started to laugh. It didn’t go well—he cut off after a second, with a gasp of pain.

“Hey, careful,” Martin said. “Look, I just want you to know I… I was scared of you. I was scared that at some point you might… stop being you. But I shouldn’t have worried. You’ve had your moments, but you always came back, and… and I don’t really care if you’re not human. I don’t care what you are. And I know I acted… annoyed, or embarrassed, or… But you need to know I don’t resent you for everything that happened, for all that we’ve been through, for what you’ve had to do. You’re not a burden, Jon. And you’re not a monster. And anyone… anyone who ever made you feel like one, including me… was wrong.”

Jon stared up at him, silent, new tears welling in his eyes.

“Jon?”

He shook his head.

“You have to believe me, Jon,” Martin said. “You have to believe me. It’s me… and I have never known anyone so… arrogant, maybe, reckless, certainly, but also selfless… as you are.”

Jon looked away.

“Really.”

“M-Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry too.”

Martin shook his head. “For what?”

“For… shutting you out. During the apocalypse and since then. For trying to shelter you instead of… You should have been more than just my reason. You should have been my partner. I should have… we should have made decisions together, instead of me just… expecting you to go along with everything I wanted to do.”

Martin thought about that. “Thanks...” he said. “We both… we both could have done better.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think we could have. But… yes, it would have been nice to work out some of our issues before the apocalypse. We didn’t really have much time together...”

Martin nodded. “We didn’t. You know… if I… if I’d stayed that day, instead of going for a walk, I might have been able to stop you...”

“You can’t… you can’t honestly blame yourself for—”

“But you can?” Martin said. “It’s not like you knew that statement was a ritual.”

Jon looked away.

“I’m… sorry I stabbed you too,” Martin said. “I know there were circumstances, but… I’m not going to be able to let it go unless—“

“I forgive you,” Jon said, and some of the tension ebbed out of his face.

Martin looked away, tears blurring his vision.

“Martin?”

“I forgive you too,” he said. “For… for everything.”

“For everything,” Jon repeated, then let out a pained huff of amusement. “We… Martin, we have no right to forgive each other for all we’ve done.”

Martin smiled and shook his head “You’re not wrong,” he said. It felt nice anyway, to say it.

They sat in silence for several moments.

Jon was still bleeding. The Fears were still terrorizing the Doctor’s universe. This wasn’t over yet.

“Well…” Martin said. “Do you think you can… um… move the Fears all the way into the empty universe?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can try, but I doubt I’m strong enough anymore. Getting rid of Annabelle was taxing. She was very powerful.”

“That really was amazing, by the way.”

“I tried a few times before that,” Jon said. “But she never let me get the whole phrase out.” He smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

Martin shook his head, smiling slightly.

“This is so much better than last time,” Jon said. “I can… I can actually talk to you, instead of just… fading in and out of consciousness, watching you weep over me.”

“When I stabbed you?” Martin asked.

Jon nodded.

Wait.

“You’re not… dying are you?”

“No,” Jon said. “Not so long as I give the Eye what it wants. I could probably live forever...like this.”

Martin swallowed, then remembered something. “You said you couldn’t remember that. After the Fears left our universe...”

“I lied,” Jon said. “I’m sorry. I meant to… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“And...it hurt, didn’t it? The knife wound—sometimes even when it wasn’t bleeding?”

“...All the time,” Jon admitted.

Martin bowed his head.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it. I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“Jon, I love you, and... I want to know when you’re hurting! Maybe… I wonder if it might have actually healed if we’d just… talked about it.”

Jon blinked. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Because it did, it did really get worse whenever we were fighting.”

Jon sighed. “You’re right, as usual. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Martin said. “I hope we… have time to work this out. God, I’m so sorry for trying to break up with you, Jon. I… it was mostly the Lonely talking, but I’m still sorry.”

Jon smiled. “I’m so glad… I mean, you… you’re saying you don’t want to break up with me, right?”

“No!” Martin said. “God, no! Never! You’re never getting rid of me!”

“Good,” Jon said. “That’s a relief.”

“What, you think I came all this way just to finish breaking up with you? How petty do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said. “I have… insecurities, alright?”

“I know that,” Martin said. “And… just to check… you don’t want to break up with me either?”

“Of course not,” Jon said.

“Good.”

“Good.”

They smiled at each other, and then Jon closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to try to move the Fears now. Hold on tight.”

Martin wrapped his arms tightly around Jon’s body, and Jon strained, back arching, eyes wide and staring. The room shook and the wound on Jon’s chest gushed blood and Jon shouted through gritted teeth, in pain and effort. Martin shut his eyes and fought the urge to try and stop him.

But he didn’t have to. After half a minute, Jon went limp in his arms again.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “I’m sorry… I can’t do it.”

“It’s okay,” Martin said.

“It’s not,” Jon said. “They’ll all die…”

“No,” Martin said. “It’s alright, Jon. And… I think we might be able to… I… we’re on the empty universe side, right?”

“Yes.”

“That might be enough.” Martin said. “Because they’re… drawn to wherever you are, right? And they’ll get smaller if they get weaker.”

Jon searched his face. “What are you getting at?”

“I came prepared,” Martin said. He reached into the shoulder bag filled with flowers to hide it from the Fears and pulled out the fully charged device that Rung had made.

Jon stared at it. “You… are brilliant,” he said. “You know that, right? You’re amazing.”

“I know,” Martin said, and pressed the device into Jon’s hand. “Do you think you’ll be able to… to draw them to you and attack them? Or will they just flee?”

Jon looked troubled.

“Jon?”

“I… I think it will work. But, Martin… I don’t know if… if I’ll survive.”

Martin’s chest felt tight. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He… hadn’t really let himself think about this part. He’d been putting it off, hoping...

When he looked down again, Jon’s smile was resigned. “If… if you can’t bear that, I won’t go through with it.”

Martin blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Jon said. “Like I… like I said, I want to make decisions together. I… you know what I would choose on my own. But you get a say too. You have a choice. I won’t… I won’t risk leaving you if you’re not willing to risk it.”

Martin looked away. There was relief in Jon’s eyes—and Martin understood. He regretted ever complaining that he didn’t get to make this choice. If he said no… if he said no, Jon would really listen to him this time. He wasn’t sure what they would do, but they could figure something out, stay together in the Fears. Jon couldn’t die in this state. Maybe he’d heal in time…

And… and it would have been Martin’s choice.

Martin’s choice that so many people died. That whole universes suffered and broke under the horror of the Fears.

But on the other hand, if Jon attacked the Fears and it killed him, that would be Martin’s choice too. There was no way to substitute himself—to die instead. He wouldn’t even get to die with Jon—he’d be left behind. Wasn’t that what he’d been trying to avoid from the beginning? What would he do without Jon? How could he live?

How could he live with himself if he chose Jon—one man—over the full weight of a suffering universe?

This… this was yet another way in which Jon had been sheltering him—standing between him and this choice. Because as much as he hated it, there was no choice. There was only one right answer.

He tried to hold the tears in.

“Martin…?”

Martin breathed in deeply. “Do it,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Jon said gently.

Martin sniffed and nodded. “We have to. We can’t just let them all keep… suffering. I… I’ll be…”

“Okay,” Jon said. “You’ll be okay.”

Martin shook his head, blinking back tears.

“Martin,” Jon said softly. “Look at me.”

Martin met his gaze. “You… shouldn’t have to comfort me, when you’re… you—”

“No, I should.” Jon said. “You have no idea what a state I’d be in if our positions were reversed. I… I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t be that strong, Martin. I… you really are amazing, and this is the right choice, and you will be okay.”

“I’m… I’m killing you again.”

“No,” Jon said. “You’re not. You’re saving the universe. Many universes.”

Martin sobbed.

“You… just have to let me go in the process.”

Martin shook his head. His glasses had tears on them, along with spiderwebs and blood. He could barely see.

“You have to let me go,” Jon said. “But you don’t have to give up. Not yet. Don’t you dare give up on me yet. I’m not dead. Look at me—I’m not dead yet and there’s a chance.”

Martin tried to regain his composure.

It took him a while, but he calmed down enough to blink the tears from his eyes.

Jon smiled wearily up at him. “Ready?”

Martin braced himself, then nodded.

Jon reached up and put a hand behind his head, sliding his blood-soaked fingers into Martin’s hair. Martin half leaned over, half lifted Jon up to kiss him. His lips tasted like blood and the metallic smell was unpleasant, but Martin didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want it to end.

Jon activated the device and stiffened in Martin’s arms, twitching as the power flowed into him.

And then…

There was a rush and an odd floating sensation and Martin was hovering in a sea of color and light. Jon hung in front of him—or a vague shape with Jon’s face, at least.

“Where… where are we?”

“Metaphysical realm,” Jon said. “I’ve seen Viktor come and go a few times and wanted to try it for myself. I don’t think I could do it on my own, but I have a lot of power flowing through me at the moment.”

Martin looked around, then back at Jon. “It’s… kind of nice.”

“I figured it would be more pleasant for both of us,” Jon said. “I’m not in as much pain, and you don’t have to just sit there while I have a seizure. We can actually talk here. I’m glad I was able to bring you on my first try. I wasn’t sure if that would work.”

Martin hesitantly reached out and Jon pulled him into a tight embrace. He… felt real, even if he didn’t quite feel solid.

“Good,” Jon said. “It’s working. Look.”

Martin released Jon and turned around. There was a dark cloud like poisoned smoke, curling around itself, billowing around the space beneath them, where it was being pulled into a single brilliant point of light. “Is that… the Fears?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “They’re being drawn the rest of the way through. I think… I think I’d better put us back as soon as they’re fully in this universe. Once the gate closes I’m going to be… weaker, very quickly. And I don’t want you stuck here.”

“I mean, it’s not so bad here.”

“I guess… Viktor could rescue you after it’s all over. If you’d prefer…”

“No,” Martin said. “I want to go back, with you.”

Jon smiled at him. “I… I could tell you I love you, but I’ve said it so many times… I don’t know what to say now… to say more. I hope… I hope I have time to figure it out. I hope we grow old together. But if we don’t… I want you to know it was all worth it to me.”

Martin embraced him again, holding him tightly, afraid to let him go.

“I probably don’t need to tell you this,” Jon said softly. “But my physical body… is very badly damaged. If I somehow survive channeling the powers, and being cut off from the Eye… I’ll still need healing quickly.”

Martin nodded.

“So… So if Steven doesn’t get to me in time… just make sure he doesn’t blame himself for it. This… this is no one’s fault. Do you understand?”

Martin nodded again.

“Alright.” Jon took a deep breath. “We’re going back now.”

“I love you,” Martin said, and shut his eyes.

Viktor closed his eyes as they pulled at his arms with their smooth, glassy fingers—half a dozen porcelain Jayces, lifeless, soulless. He had moved to the metaphysical realm for a moment to try and get his bearings, and something had latched onto him and followed him back, becoming these creatures upon re-entry. They’d pursued him through impossible hallways and chains of rooms in the TARDIS and had finally caught him. Unlike any in the past, these creations were not his and would not do his bidding.

He slipped free and stumbled away, but they followed, impossibly fast…

And then they were gone.

And the TARDIS felt more real, more stable again.

He heard running footsteps and turned around to see Jayce coming toward him. He brought his arms up defensively, but Jayce stopped and took his elbows gently. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Normal. It was back to normal. Did that mean the Fears…?

Viktor dissolved his physical form, retreating to the metaphysical plane where he could see that… yes, the Fears were fully in the empty universe now. He could see them, writhing in desperation as they were consumed by light from Rung’s device. Jon and Martin were… on the metaphysical plane too. Jon saw him watching and nodded.

The Fears were tethered to him, drawn to him even as he boiled them away.

Viktor reached out to close the gate, but hesitated.

He could shut it in a moment, but it took longer to open. Half an hour at least. He watched as Jon and Martin sank back onto the physical plane, returning to their bodies.

Jon wasn’t dead—not yet. But if Viktor closed the gate…

“What are we waiting for?” Jayce asked.

“We have time,” Viktor said. “The Fears can’t escape until Jon dies. Let’s talk to the Doctor.”

They had wandered quite a distance in the TARDIS but he managed to locate the Doctor and reappear close to him.

“Ah, good,” the Doctor said. “What’s our status?”

“There is a slight complication,” Viktor said.

The fog turned to alien dust and rock under Martin’s knees. The oxygen mask pressed heavy against his face, hissing softly. Jon was heavy in his arms.

Jon… oh god…

Martin took in a deep breath and held it as he took the mask off his face. The atmosphere wasn’t toxic, but there was no oxygen in it. He pressed the mask over Jon’s mouth and nose and watched for the fog of Jon’s breathing. Was he even breathing? The wounds from the webs were still there, dotting his face and arms. At least the chest wound seemed more shallow, though it was still probably serious enough to kill him in a matter of minutes. Blood gushed out of it, dripping into the dry, greenish dirt, turning it black.

There was a second mask somewhere, and he had a little container of the alphabet soup, but he had the strong sense that if he set Jon down, if he looked away for a moment—if he blinked—it might be over.

He took the mask back for a quick breath and then fixed it back on Jon’s face. He watched the mask fog, then clear, then fog again as Jon breathed shallowly, heart pumping his blood out onto the dust.

Then it cleared and didn’t fog again.

There was blood on the inside of the mask, forced up into his mouth by the weak spasming of his lungs, the languid squeezing of his heart. His eyes were open still, open always, staring up unknowingly, with little more than a glimmer of the Eye left as he faded.

Jayce appeared in front of Brianna. She had finally made it out of the never-ending control rooms, but was still completely lost.

“Hey,” he said. “I can lead you back to the others.”

“Thank you,” Brianna said.

“Hurry.”

She followed him as he sprinted through rooms and halls, and they made it to the real control room before she was even winded. The Doctor and Viktor were standing by the controls, speaking quietly, and the external doors were open.

“...would be a risk,” Viktor was saying.

“What are we talking about?” Brianna asked.

The Doctor sighed. “Martin and Jon succeeded in weakening the Fears and drawing them into the empty universe, but Jon is dying, and Martin isn’t wearing a flower crown. Under the circumstances, I can’t blame him for forgetting that part of the plan, but that means that when Jon dies, the Fears will still have Martin to feed off of. If we close the gate, we won’t be able to open it again, not until Martin’s dead too.”

Brianna stared at him.

“On the other hand, If we leave the gate open and go in to rescue them we risk letting the Fears back through to our universe. Jon’s death would free them.”

Brianna stared at him. “Doctor you can’t…”

He smiled subtly. “Can’t what?” he said. “I’m the Doctor—I can do anything.”

Steven came in through the open doors, wearing a flower crown already. “I put another wreath around the roof. We’re good to go.”

“Alright,” the Doctor said. “We’ll land as close as we can. Steven, you get to Jon as quickly as possible. Brianna, put on a flower crown, and take two more for Martin and Jon. We have to cut the Fears off from everything. Viktor, shut the gate as soon as we’re through.”

“Got it,” Steven said.

Viktor and Jayce vanished.

Brianna breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “You’re terrible! You really had me going there—I actually thought you were about to abandon them!”

The Doctor grinned. “Here we go.” He threw the TARDIS controls on, and Brianna went to grab a handful of flower crowns out of the cooler. She held her breath, waiting anxiously as the TARDIS traveled through the gate. She hoped Jon was alright. She hoped they made it in time.

The whooshing began again, signaling re-entry

Martin looked up as the TARDIS appeared just a few meters away. Jon had stopped breathing, but it hadn’t been long. How long had it been? Ten seconds? Twenty? Thirty? Martin didn’t dare try CPR, not with that chest wound, not with blood filling Jon’s lungs.

The doors of the TARDIS sprang open and Steven burst out, followed closely by Brianna.

“I’m coming!” Steven shouted, as he sprinted toward them. He dropped and skidded on his knees to Jon’s side. Martin winced as Steven slapped a dripping palm to Jon’s wound.

They waited silently.

“Don’t be a pink zombie,” Steven muttered. “Don’t be a pink zombie, don’t be a pink zombie…”

“What?” Martin hissed.

Steven took his hand away from the wound and spat in it, then pressed it back. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s so gross.”

“Pink zombie?” Martin said.

“He’s not turning pink,” Steven said. “That’s a good sign.

“Of what?”

“If he was already dead,” Steven said. “Um… I can bring people back, but… they um… they’re sort of undead. He’d still have his memories and everything, but he wouldn’t need to eat or breathe or anything like that.”

Martin stared at him, horrified.

“Oh,” Brianna said. “Right, hold on.” She put a flower crown on Martin’s head and Martin felt a sudden sense of calm wash over him. He looked down at Jon again, peaceful in his arms, and waited as Brianna carefully secured another flower crown around Jon’s matted hair.

His eyes were closed.

Martin felt sleepy too. He might…

the oxygen.

He took the mask off of Jon’s face and breathed in it a couple times. “Back to the TARDIS” he said and got to his feet, carrying Jon, feeling a bit lightheaded.

They walked back to the police box and stepped inside and the doors shut behind them. He knelt again, and Steven helped him gently set Jon down, head on Martin’s knees. His wound was gone now. There wasn’t even a scar. And Martin could see him breathing. A wave of relief washed over him, even though he hadn’t been scared anymore, and he smiled as Jon stirred and then finally opened his eyes.

And it was him. His own eyes. No hungry glow, no hollow ache, nothing else in there but Jon himself, looking up at Martin with clarity, with warmth.

He smiled. “Well,” he said softly. “That was terrifying.”