#raspberrysundae

The quiet sniffles stifled. Caboose stiffened.

“Oh no,” He said quietly. He jerked back, trying to untangle himself from Wash’s blankets and ended up falling on the floor.

“Oof--I’m okay.”“Caboose?” Wash flicked on his bedside lamp. Caboose looked up at him miserably.

“I made a mistake,” Caboose said.

Wash frowned. He had no idea what any of this was about, and then put some of it together.

“You forgot it was me in here?” Wash asked gently.

Caboose nodded, ashamed.

“It’s okay. Honest mistake,” Wash placated. “Did...uh...you sleep with Church a lot?”

“When I have nightmares,” Caboose said, not really moving from his spot on the floor now. “He pretended not to notice and be asleep, but I knew he wasn’t because he would snore when he was asleep. He would complain in the morning, but that was… that was okay.”

Wash sighed. He lifted the covers. “Alright.”

Caboose looked up, “--Really?”

Wash nodded tiredly. Caboose quickly nestled under the covers, Wash clicked off the light again.

“You had a bad dream?” Wash asked. Caboose took up most of the narrow bed, but he arranged himself comfortably curled up. Caboose’s head pressed against his shoulder.

He remembered when he was a kid, crawling into Mama’s bed after bad dreams, or his sister’s if she was at work. It always felt safer that way. Wash wasn’t about to deny Caboose a feeling of safety.

“Yeah,” Caboose agreed. “It was bad. I did not like it.”

“Do you need to talk about it?” Wash pressed gently.

“No,” Caboose answered. “This is good. I feel better,” He snuggled closer. “You really don’t mind, Agent Washington?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Wash reassured.

Caboose shifted. Tossed and turned.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

“I’m sorry. I’m keeping you up,” Caboose shifted about to get out of the bed.

“No, you aren’t.” He wrapped his hand around Caboose’s wrist. “It’s okay, you can stay.”

Caboose rolled back closer cuddling against him.

“Thank you Agent Washington.”

He kept fidgeting though.

Wash thought back to when he was a kid. Caboose wasn’t a kid but… maybe he missed out on this sort of thing? Or maybe he just needed that sort of comfort right now.

Very quietly Wash started singing. It was an ancient pop song slowed down to sound like a lullabye. That’s what Mama used to do.

Caboose settled, his arm flung over Wash’s chest. After a few refrains he started singing too, soft and slow like Wash until he started missing words, and then he started breathing deep and even.

Wash went back to staring up at the ceiling.

“Shiiiiit.” He dropped his cigarette and bolted to the other side of the park. The boy hesitantly started raising his hand as if to knock on a door. Gerard used the only thing he had, his tape player which he slammed at the book in the boy’s hands making it fall to the ground. The tape player went with it, there was an awful crunch as it hit. Fuck. He had saved for that.

He grabbed at the boy’s shoulder before he could try to retrieve the book.

“Oi,” he pulled his useless headphones down.

“That’s my book,” the boy’s voice was stilted. Fuck, the Web. Gerard got a firmer grip and pulled. The boy was still trying to reach at it.

“Where the hell does a little kid get a Leitner??” He asked no one. The commotion drew the attention of the older teen who headed towards them. Christ. He tried to get to his lighter without letting go of the kid, but for a beansprout he was awfully determined. His hand was still in a fist outstretched trying desperately to touch the book again.

“You do not want the spiders to get you, snap out of it.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” The teen asked. He seemed unsure. There was unpleasant recognition on his face towards the small boy, but he didn’t know where Gerard fit in. He scanned them and then slowly down at the book on the ground. He looked amused. A nasty sort of smile.

“Little Einstein reading kiddie books?” He was obviously referring to Beansprout. He leaned down towards the Leitner.

“Don’t touch it!” Gerard warned.  The older teen didn’t hesitate. He scooped it up. His face went blank. He opened the book to the beginning.

“Damn it!”

Beanpole seemed to come out of it. He stopped struggling. Gerard let him go.

“That’s mine!” he protested still. The bully easily swatted him away and started walking.

“What’s happening?” Beansprout finally looked up at him. The kid was small, all angles. “He’s taking my book!” He added, a bit demanding as if he expected Gerard to do something about that fact.

“You don’t want that book,” Gerard told him firmly knowing it wouldn’t be much help. Even released the web still had it’s sticky threads in the boy. What  started needed to finish. The boy looked between him and the Bully and started running after the Bully.

Gerard sighed. The kid was easy enough, but a struggle with the bigger guy wouldn’t go easy. It was obviously a strong compulsion and if he got tangled…

His mother would say to leave it and not worry about strays. If they were weak enough to get trapped then so be it… but then, his mother would also want him to watch, see how it worked. Get the book if possible.

He sighed again. He had just wanted a smoke and alone time.

He followed after Beanpole as he followed after the Bully. The Bully was completely unaware that he was being followed nose stuck in the children’s book.

Gerard felt a bit queasy not for the first time wondering if the Books created themselves, or if some sick fuck had actually made a children’s storybook a nightmare.

The boy couldn’t be more than ten, but he seemed confident walking the streets by himself, even without the compulsion. He looked back at Gerard and hesitantly slowed down. His eyes looked clear now.

“You should go home,” Gerard told him.

“…Yes… but…” Beansprout wavered unsure of himself for a moment. “I…it’s pulling me… but I also…I want to know what’s happening.”

Gerard felt a shiver down his spine, the feeling of a hundred eyes on him all at once before the feeling faded.

“That will not make you feel better,” Gerard warned. “It’ll make it worse.”

The kid stubbornly shook his head. “I know… but… not knowing is worse.”

If the child was very lucky this would be his only encounter with the real world. The world of shadows and fear and monsters.

Those large dark eyes told a different story though. God, he sort of reminded him of his mother. A bit more likable–well… only because he didn’t know better.

“What’s your name?”

“Jon. What’s yours?”

“Gerard.”

They walked silently and eventually came to a suburban street. It could be anywhere in any town. He put a hand on Jon’s shoulder and pulled him to a stop.

“You should close your eyes.” He told him.

The Bully placed the book on the door and raised his fist.

Jon didn’t.

They both watched, unblinking as long hairy limbs snatched the Bully and yanked him into the house. The door slammed.

Jon gave a little cry of shock, shaking violently any calm he had had, gone. He looked like he wanted to bolt, but didn’t want to leave the safety of Gerard’s side.

“Mr. Spider,” He whispered, terrified. “That can’t be real.”

Gerard stared at the house. Through the window he saw a normal couple chatting. He doubted the door lead to the Spider’s lair anymore. The book was gone, at least for now.

He looked down, realizing Jon was clinging to his hand.

“What was that?” the kid demanded.

He should be kind. Tell him it was some sort of horrible joke, or a figment of his imagination, or that he was drugged or something, but he felt certain that the boy wouldn’t accept any kind lie he’d come up with.

“A monster,” He told him simply. “…sorry.”

The boy’s grip tightened, although he seemed to be trying to calm himself down. Trying to act braver than he was.

“Monster’s don’t exist,” The boy lied, knowing it wasn’t true but saying it anyway.

“If that comforts you then, sure,” Gerard allowed. He didn’t pull his hand away, although he sort of wanted it back. He wasn’t a babysitter.

But… well… the amount of times he wished someone would hold his hand after seeing some of the things his mother introduced him to…

Well… there was no harm in it.

He gently tugged and Jon allowed himself to be lead away from the little house.

“Are… are there other books like that?” Jon asked after a while. He had let go, but was still trailing after Gerard. Gerard took out a cigarette and took a drag.

“Yeah.”

“I like books.” Jon sounded betrayed.

“The bad ones are labeled. The Library of Jurgen Leitner. They’re rare. If you ever see that label you drop it and run the other direction.” No need to tell him about the objects or the entities. Let him think it’s just haunted books.

“You’ve seen them before. That’s how you knew to save me.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you …” Jon trailed off.

“You’re tiny. He wasn’t. There was nothing I could have done… either of us could have done.” Gerard added noticing the pensive look on the ten-year-old’s face.

“He’s mean… he doesn’t like how smart I am,” Jon said, almost to himself. Gerard snorted quietly. Not that messing with a kid half his size was right or anything, but Jon probably had more to blame than his smarts. His questioning alone was sort of annoying–well… Gerard didn’t really mind it. It was sort of nice. Usually people freak out more. Jon seemed to internalize it. Maybe he felt safe with Gerard and would break down when he was finally safe and sound at home.

But… yeah. Nice to talk about it with someone else just as freaked out as he felt deep down inside. With someone who knew it would be awful, but couldn’t look away either.

“He … I thought unkind things about him… I wished he’d get hurt,” Jon was sounding more upset. “I didn’t mean anything like that.”

Gerard stopped and crouched down to be level with Jon. “Hey. No bad wishes come

true. I’ve seen lots of shit and I can tell you that much. Wishing assholes ill doesn’t make you bad. Just means they’re assholes. I warned him, he didn’t listen. That’s what happened.”

“But I–”

“You got caught in a trap you weren’t supposed to escape from. Blame Jurgen Leitner.”

He wouldn’t take it to heart. The guilt was seeping in. It was worth trying. He stood. Jon forcefully took his hand again without meeting his eyes.

“Where am I dropping you off? Back at the park?”

“I want to know more.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“I do,” Jon argued. “I want to know what you know.

“Do you really?”

Jon nodded.

“Why?”

“…I know it will be bad… the knowing,” Jon said slowly. “It’ll probably make me even more scared…I… but… not knowing is worse! It just is. Please tell me!”

God, this kid was Monster bait. Beholding more specifically, although the Web might seek him out later. He might have broken the web, but the pieces were still stuck to him.

It wasn’t really fair. There should be safety. Somewhere there should be safety. Someone that knows something. Some good entity that protects against the bad ones.

But there wasn’t. It was just a cold dark scary world. Gerard had never met anyone that wanted to help. His mother wanted to learn, wanted power, and maybe that was sort of a protection, but… well… Gerard wasn’t naive. He couldn’t afford to be. Everyone in this life wanted power.

Maybe he had to be the one that wanted to help. No one else was doing it.

They arrived at the park. Jon was still clinging on to his hand, about to protest.

“I don’t live around here.” Gerard told him. “I live in Morden.”

“I could bus there.”

Gerard gave him a pained look. “You’re ten.” What a pain in the ass. “I’m going to give you my address. If you ever visit I will absolutely not let you in, but you can write me.”

“Like penpals?”

He sighed heavily. “Yes. Like penpals. But only if you promise not to visit. If you do I’ll stop telling you things.”

“But you will.”

“Yes, if you promise not to come.”

Jon hesitated. “Okay.” He awkwardly shook the hand he was already holding, let go, and stepped back. “Thank you Gerard.”

“Gerry,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Call me Gerry.”

Jon gave a tiny smile at that. “Okay, Gerry.”

It was weird. This was weird. The kid was five or six years younger than him, but… well he never had a penpal before. They weren’t friends. This was more of an… apprenticeship? Fuck this was a terrible idea. Jon looked less shaky though so that was something.

“You alright to get home?”

Jon nodded. “I know the way… will… will the spider come back?”

“No,” Gerard lied, forcing himself to sound certain. He had no idea. He just knew Jon was like him…

And frankly being him sucked.

He wrote down the address carefully and handed it over. Jon looked at it and then carefully folded it placing it in his pocket.

“… Thank you, Gerry…” Jon said awkwardly. “I… thank you for… for saving me.”

But it had been far too early in his own awakening to guide his Jonathan. After Albrecht’s death Jonathan made it clear where he stood on the matter. Where he placed blame. It was amazing how Jonathan managed to be so observant, but always managed to miss the connecting dots. Albrecht would have been dead anyway, the books were a means to an end and there were other powers at work that needed containment. Milbank had been important and Jonathan himself could have gained so much if he had only stopped refusing Jonah’s letters, and company, and bed.

Jonah had existed too long to have these sort of … human regrets, and yet with the passing years and the passing Archivists he always thought of Jonathan Fanshaw. A useless comparison. Jonathan had never been his in all the ways he wanted him. He had never been an Archivist or scion of the Beholding, despite his own best efforts.

Near the end he had begged and made threats. He had been so close to uncovering the ritual that would bring his Master into the world and he needed the right person to stand at his side. Nothing worked. Even when he threatened to expose them both and the letters he had kept between them. He had kept everything that Jonathan ever wrote to him. Jonathan always spoke plainly. It was clear what the letters meant. It would destroy his practice, and his life and reputation. He still refused him.

But the Eye isn’t the only one that watches. The Spiders got Jonathan, and although time and alliances forced working with them he never forgot what they took. Never forgot Jonathan’s delicate broken movements in their threads.

Jonah Magnus would never know another man like him. Not for two hundred years.

Time and priorities move differently when you continue on and on. Different bodies had different challenges and desires. Despite his start, Elias Bouchard suited him. Opened to this world of fear and monsters Elias was alive for the first time in his squandered life. They melded well. Their memories complimented. Elias came to love Jonathan as Jonah had.

Meeting Jonathan Sims was a shock straight into Jonah who had never forget those eyes even two-hundred years later. Dark eyes, deep, intelligent, and beautiful. That took in everything in the room.

And his voice.

A different accent, but the same rich voice that had huffed at him when he was frustrated. That would make that soft rare chuckle at a jest. Jonathan had never laughed much, but he had a wry humour. It was Jonathan’s voice, and Jonathan’s eyes, even Jonathan’s temperment.

It was Elias that stopped him from plunging into the young man’s head and learning everything about him.

He skimmed the surface thoughts. The usual things. Mostly nervousness about the job interview. Jonathan–Jon… he keenly wanted it. It was the next logical step in his life. Elias pushed a little more. Jonathan unfurled before them answering every question his potential employer could have asked without even knowing it. Among the nerves was another set. Being watch. The Eye already had its sights on him. It pleased Elias to no end. Jonah kept digging though.

A door. Someone grabbed by spider’s legs–

He let Jonathan finish and hired him on the spot as a researcher.

He went home. Elias felt foolish for it thinking he was being influenced by memories of a dead man, Jonah knew though.

When he closed his eyes he dreamed of Jonathan made to dance by silk threads, but it wasn’t Doctor Fanshaw.

It built inside of him, that finally he had found him again. In the world he had come to know reincarnation didn’t seem so unbelievable. He wouldn’t doubt a trap either, the Web getting creative and breaking their alliance.

It didn’t matter. Elias came to cherish Jon, and Jonah already did.

He had found his Archivist, and nothing would keep him from him this time.

Gertrude’s betrayal honestly couldn’t have come at a better time. She had been so useful stopping the others from rising it was hard to justify making room for another, but then she wanted to burn the archives.

There was a certain smugness he felt. Having Jonathan after all the running. Innocent and unaware, eager even for the job he offered. For the life he was laying out for him. Jon stepped into it so easily he wanted to laugh. He wanted to pull the younger man to him and tell him everything. He wanted him back in his bed with Fashaw’s indignance and Jon’s innocence learning every detail all over again.

It was a shame Jon wouldn’t be amenable to that.

Not without without a struggle.

But Jonah wasn’t going to let go this time.