Chapter Text
“I…open…THE DOOR!”
“Look at the sky…it’s looking back!”
“Oh, and who’s this? Your boyfriend?” “Yes, actually.”
“A laughable umbrella.”
“If one should leave this place for…greener pastures, the rest must follow.”
“Are you sure about this?” “No, but I love you.”
“I love you too.”
/ / / /
A steady, droning beep, beep, beep was the first thing Jon became aware of. The second thing they became aware of was a large, warm hand in his, a thumb rubbing across the back of his knuckles.
They tried to open their eyes, but the fluorescent lights above bit into his corneas, so he quickly closed them again. To help mitigate the pain, they raised their free hand to rub at his eyes.
“Jo-Jon? You’re awake!” A voice came from the same direction as Jon’s held hand.
Jon groaned and grumbled, “Two more minutes, love…”
The voice laughed. There came the creaking of a chair, and the voice said, “I’ll go get a doctor. I—thank goodness you’ve woken up.”
While Jon was grateful for the assistance, as the person’s footsteps faded, they realized…He had no idea who that was.
By the time the voice returned—this time, not alone—Jon had managed to get their eyes open and was looking around the room. It was clearly a hospital, an IV drip attached to his arm and a heart monitor on his finger.
Somehow, the situation felt awfully familiar, but Jon could not, for the life of him, remember why he would’ve been in the hospital. Maybe for the…many, many scars that littered his arms? How the hell did he get a burn in the perfect shape of a handshake? What were all the circular scars trailing up their arms? Jon was so confused, and it frustrated them that he couldn’t remember anything about something that was clearly important.
It was quite the relief when the man entered the room, chatting amiably with a doctor.
“…And you think he’ll make a full recovery, right?” The man was saying.
The doctor laughed. “Yes, for the last time Mr. Blackwood: Mx. Sims will be up and about before you know it.”
Blackwood. The name stirred something warm in Jon’s chest, but they still had no clue his relation to them.
“How are you feeling, Jon?” The doctor asked.
“A bit like I’ve been stabbed and buried in rubble,” They rasped, “But otherwise okay.”
She laughed again as Blackwood made a bit of a pained sound.
“Quite the astute analysis. Martin here found you in the debris of The Magnus Institute and called 999,” The doctor explained, “How you got there is anyone’s guess. There’s also the conundrum of the fact that…Well, you don’t actually exist, from a legal standpoint. Rather curious, isn’t it? No ‘Jonathan Sims’ anywhere. Huh!”
She chattered on as Martin sat back down next to Jon’s bed and took their hand. A nurse came in to check Jon’s vitals and leave a cup of water and some jelly for them to nibble on.
Jon patiently listened until the doctor finally left again. When she was gone, Martin immediately began talking.
“Oh my god, Jon, I’m so sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but, uh, here we are! I don’t know about the Fears, or what happened to everyone else—but I suppose they’ve got to be okay now, right? If Annabelle was telling the truth? There’s the thing about not existing in this universe, though…But-but we’ve got each other, so that’s alright! I suppose, I—”
“I’m sorry, Martin, but I’ve got just one question,” Jon broke in.
“Oh, right, of course! You’re probably wondering—”
“I’m sorry,” They repeated, “But who exactly are you?”
Martin’s stumbling chatter ceased. He’d turned a rather alarming shade of pale grey-ish, all of the color draining from his rosy, freckled cheeks. Jon was nearly temped to call the doctor back.
“I-I’ve got to go,” Martin said, pulling his hand out of Jon’s.
“M-Martin, wait—!” Jon tried to call, but he was already gone.
“Well, shit.”
/ / / /
Jon continued their hospital stay, adjusting to the strange feeling of breathing with a scar down just left of center of his chest. The doctors ran tests upon tests on what he remembered—basic skills like reading, writing, walking, and cooking—and what he didn’t—nothing past about age 24.
The doctors were baffled as to what exactly had happened to Jon and caused their oddly specific amnesia. Frankly, they felt the same way. It was extremely frustrating when they couldn’t remember some very important things about himself until they became relevant, like how Jon didn’t know he needed a cane until he nearly collapsed during a physical therapy session. He had been walking around, mostly to show that they could despite their aching leg, until a flare of pain shot up his leg and they quickly moved to the wall for support.
It hadn’t been until then that anyone had seen fit to mention the cane that Martin had brought in with Jon. It was a bit dinged-up, and the few stickers that remained were faded and peeling at the edges. There was one small sticker that remained bright and whole, though: a small, pink heart, placed just at the base of the handle.
While Jon didn’t remember it, the sight of that one sticker still whole filled their chest with a warmth that he didn’t understand, but was grateful for nonetheless.
Later that day, Jon was reading a book one of the nurses had offered them when their fidgeting and tapping had begun to irritate him, when he got a visitor.
“Knock, knock?” A woman said, poking her head into Jon’s room. The first thing Jon thought when seeing her was that, even though she looked like Martin, she didn’t have as many freckles, and her hair was darker, more of an auburn than Martin’s ginger. “I know you don’t know me, but I come in and talk with people who don’t have any family or friends to visit them, just to help them from getting too lonely. I’m—”
“Georgie?” Jon’s voice cracked on her name.
Georgie frowned. “Do we…know each other?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jon spoke softly, afraid that if they spoke too loudly, then Georgie would be scared off. He remembered her a little bit from uni, but the memories were almost too fuzzy to remember too many details. Those memories edged too close to where the rest of his life disappeared. “I don’t remember much, as of late.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Georgie said, taking a seat in the one uncomfortable chair in the room—Martin’s chair, Jon’s brain helpfully supplied—and tucked her braided hair over one shoulder. “How’ve you been managing with that?”
Jon shrugged. “Haven’t been able to do much, seeing as I somehow don’t legally exist, nor do I have anywhere to go, and my one connection to my absent memories ran off as soon as he found out I didn’t remember him.”
Georgie blinked. “Well, that certainly is…”
“Yeah,” Jon huffed, “It is. I…I do remember you, though. Not much, and not in detail, but…it’s more than I remember of most other things.”
Georgie seemed surprised. “I feel like I’d remember you, but how do we know each other? I’ll admit, I feel like I recognize you somehow, but I can’t think of where from.”
“Um…We-we were friends in uni, I think…And—” Jon’s face grew warm. “Nevermind.”
“Well, now I’m curious.” Georgie leaned forward eagerly.
Jon ducked their head. “Well, if my memories are anything to go by—which they arent! This may not be true—we may have…dated?”
She burst out laughing. “Really? Now I’m really surprised I don’t remember ou. Sorry about that, how about we start again?” Georgie stuck her hand out. “Georgie Barker, I use she/her pronouns. Pleasure!”
“Jonathan Sims, I use he/they. You can call me Jon.” Jon met her hand with their burnt one and gave a firm shake. “I have localised amnesia and currently reside in this hospital. The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”
/ / / /
Georgie continued to come visit Jon for a couple hours every other day or so. By the time Jon had spent three weeks in the hospital, the staff were running out of excuses to keep them in house.
He was just taking up a bed, after he got over the malnourishment.
It was as Jon was bemoaning this that Georgie offered he stay at her place.
Jon spluttered for a moment. “I-I couldn’t possibly—”
“Sure you could!” She interrupted. “Please, Jon, you can’t say we’re not friends by now—”
“We barely know each other—”
Georgie barrelled on, “—And it only feels right. You can stay with me until you’re back on your feet, ’til you can get your own place. Sound good?”
Jon hesitated. Though they could tell that Georgie wouldn’t take no for an answer, he was still tempted. Knowing Georgie, though…well, “Fine.”
“Great! I’ll have the guest bed ready for you by tomorrow,” She grinned, then glanced at her phone. “I do need to get going, now, I’ve rather run over time with you. See you tomorrow, Jon!”
And with that, Georgie bustled out the door, and Jon was no longer homeless.