Chapter Text
It wasn’t like he was expecting to survive. A blade through his heart was about as close to a fatal injury as you can get. The darkness was normal. Natural. Expected. The dull agony, fire racing through his chest: he was prepared for all of it. He waited for it all to end. For the ceasing of his existence to come as intended. He was ready.
It was… strange. He had thought it would hurt more. Or maybe he would feel nothing. He wasn’t waiting for comfort. But still- that's what it was. It was a warm, calm process. Less like falling and more like floating. It wasn’t exactly something that he planned on, but it wasn’t painful.
It was equally as strange, the fact that his mind never stopped running. His thoughts jumbled and relaxed, but definitely present. He wasn’t sure what would happen after he died, but this wasn’t so bad. He never had been afraid of the dark.
Then there was light.
Not the blaze of the sun, or a brilliant abyss waiting to swallow him, but the dim twinkling of stars, and the not-quite-darkness of a balmy summer night.
The hill that he landed on was grassy. Solid. Cool and damp with the gentle gatherings of dewdrops. It felt real. As did the warm hand that clutched his own, soft breath audible in the quiet night, a living heart thudding with life.
He knew who it was. How could he not recognize the most important person in his life? Martin. His soft face, freckles barely visible even in the proximity. Face streaked with tears, but set in determination. He was here. Martin was here. They were there together. Inexplicably- impossibly- even beyond death- they were. A place, maybe even a whole world that was not ravaged by fears. Somehow he was alive. Martin was there.
He was no longer the Archivist.
The Archivist had died with a knife in his chest.
But he was still here.
It wasn’t like he was expecting to survive, but he did.
Against all the odds, Jonathan Sims was alive.