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Jon woke up and opened his eyes. He felt... well-rested for once. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd closed his eyes to sleep.
Death didn't hurt, surprisingly. He remembered very clearly what had happened. Everything that had happened. It felt like waking up from anesthesia: one moment he was awake and well (well, perhaps well wasn't quite right) and the next he was waking up, barely even knowing he'd been asleep.
Jon looked around. The room he was in was not one he'd seen before. He found that he couldn't Know where he was, either. That gave him pause. Then, he tried to Know where Martin was. Tried to Know where he was. Tried to Know the layout of the apartment he was in, if it even was an apartment. Tried to Know the color of the wall behind him. He got nothing. Could that mean what he hoped it meant? He didn't need It Knows You to know what he needed to do.
Jon got up quickly, throwing the sheets off himself roughly. He first briefly looked out the window. It was... odd. It was definitely London, but it didn't feel quite right. Like it wasn't the same exact London he knew. Jon wasn't sure where exactly he was, either. Then, he went through various drawers, trying to find some simple clothes as quickly as possible. When he finally got dressed, after falling once (okay, maybe twice) due to his rushing, he ran to the door to try and find the exit.
The apartment he was in, because it turned out to definitely be an apartment, turned out to be a decent size. It wasn't uncomfortably small, either, but it wasn't enormous either. The door he assumed to be the exit was in plain sight, down a small hallway. The other side of the hallway, separated by nothing but a small half-wall close to the door, was the living room, kitchen, and a place to eat. There was only one other door, which Jon assumed was the bathroom. But he didn't have time to dwell on the layout on the apartment. He practically ran out the door, thankful that the keys were right next to it.
He walked around slightly aimlessly until he found a street he recognized. Once he actually knew, at least roughly, where he was, Jon was able to find his way easier. He only made a few wrong turns, which didn't take him too long to figure out. The air was damp and the ground was wet, but he managed to not slip as he ran through the streets of London like a madman. Perhaps that wasn't all too inaccurate, he thought to himself. He couldn't bring himself to care too much, though.
By the time he got to his destination, he was breathless. His lungs stung and legs felt weak. It had never felt so good. He bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. After a few minutes, he looked up to the building in front of him. He could've cried with relief.
In the world he knew, the building in front of him would have been the Magnus Institute. Instead, a McDonald's. Jon could have cried. Instead, he laughed. He laughed his lungs out. He knew Jonah Magnus would've hated it, too, and that only and him laugh harder. He felt a few raindrops fall on him. They were sort of comforting. Grounding.
There weren't fears in this world. There weren't fears to cause the Magnus institute to be established. To require an archivist. To make Jon read that damned book as a child. He never got an... interest in the supernatural because there wasn't any around him. This world was free of the fears. Finally, Jon started crying.
After a few minutes of standing in front of the random McDonald's, impending foot traffic and definitely freaking out all the pedestrians, he focused on what was inside. At one of the tables next to the windows sat a man with somewhat reddish hair and a cup for hot drinks. All Jon saw was a side profile, but he knew exactly who he was. After a moment, the man turned to look outside, as if waiting for something. Jon knew what it was.
He saw Martin's eyes light up when they met, and it took not even a second for the man to stand up and start running out the door, leaving what Jon assumed was tea behind. Some patrons stared at Martin as he ran, but neither Jon nor Martin could bring themselves to care. Martin ran into Jon, almost knocking him over with the force of his hug.
Jon didn't know how long they stood there hugging in the light rain. Occasionally one initiated a kiss. But Jon didn't need the power of a fear to know that they had succeeded. If time travel was the only price, Jon would welcome it with open arms. He and Martin were finally able to be together like normal people. To kiss like real people do.