Chapter Text
Even a box full of hoax statements couldn’t last forever, though. And frankly, even if they’d had ten boxes, all of the statements were fake, and thus most of them were so poorly-written and uncompelling that even Jon eventually had to admit defeat.
“How are your bandages?” Martin asked, apropos of nothing. It was nearing an hour when it would be reasonable to fall asleep, but it still wasn’t even 9pm, so there was still some time to go yet.
Jon frowned and went back to picking at one of his dressings. He hadn't really been absorbing the statement he'd been reading anyway. “They’re fine,” he said, risking a glance towards his coworker, who was watching him with his head tilted to the side and a light frown of his own on his face. “The wounds aren’t as bad as they look. The CO2 killed the worms before they could get deep enough to do extensive damage. At this point, the bandages are mostly there to prevent the chance of infection.”
“Still…” Martin said, but he didn’t finish the sentence. The atmosphere was… weird. Well, alright, that was a given, seeing as they were in a broken-down lift solely lit by a dim emergency light in an otherwise-empty building. But whereas before this had led to a sort of odd neutrality, it now felt like something was building up, and neither of them were quite sure what.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, although it was probably only a few minutes, Martin spoke again. “Sorry for bringing up the worms again. It’s just… it’s hard to think about much else, you know?”
“Yes, I do,” Jon agreed readily. Even disregarding the trauma of the culminating incident with Prentiss and the tunnels, it was hard to ignore the fact that one of his assistants had been living in the Archives for the last several months, for one. “And it’s fine, Martin. I quite doubt I’ll be able to forget all of what happened anytime soon in any case. Especially considering…” he picked at one of his bandages again, trying to convey the scarring that the ECDC and paramedics had told him he was going to have for the rest of his life. They had said that it would fade over time, but it was still undeniably permanent.
“Right. Yeah.” Martin’s hands started to twist together in front of him, probably due to nerves, before he seemed to make an active effort to cut off the motion. “Do you have a roommate taking care of you like Tim does?”
Jon looked to the side, loath to admit it, but aware that in this situation there was really no way to dodge the question. “...No, I live alone.”
Martin blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Really? Tim said he had a lot of trouble changing his bandages even with his roommate’s help.”
“It’s fine,” Jon said, probably a bit too tersely.
Luckily, Martin didn’t seem to take the tone personally. “You could have called me or Sasha, you know. We could have helped. I would have, if I knew you were dealing with all of… that, alone.”
“...Yes, I know you would have,” Jon said slowly. “But it wouldn’t have been fair to ask that of you.”
Martin frowned. “Well… I mean, I think I’d consider this extenuating circumstances, you know? Besides, you let me stay in the Archives for months , right? Helping you with your bandages would be nothing in comparison.”
Jon sighed, deflating a little. “You were being stalked, Martin . Letting you stay at the Institute was the bare minimum I could have done.” Martin raised his eyebrows and looked ready to object to that, for some reason, but Jon ignored that. “None of that counteracts how I’ve been treating you.”
Martin closed his mouth again.
And well, Jon had been trying to find a good time to say this ever since Prentiss, so. “...I suppose this is as a good a time as any."
Martin furrowed his eyebrows. "For what?"
"For my apology." Jon steeled himself and forced himself to make eye contact. "Martin, I'm sorry. I... I haven't been fair to you.”
The other man's expression went oddly blank; but after a few seconds the moment seemed to pass, and he blinked and bit his lip. "Well… yeah, you haven't."
Jon accepted the barb without complaint. "Yes, well, as mentioned, I owe you an apology. I have for a while. I suppose... I just want you to know that I wasn't really mad at you . True, I was frustrated at your reports, but I know I was disproportionately angry about that and did not deal with the situation as I should have. That is entirely my fault, so once again... I apologize."
Martin had definitely seemed in agreement with Jon's confession of his shortcomings a moment ago, but within seconds, all of that seemed forgotten - instead, he leaned forward, expression instead now unmistakably intrigued and slightly hopeful. "What... were you mad at, then?"
Jon glanced sidelong at Martin; still felt like his apology had been rather lacking, considering hindsight made it clear how horrible he had made Martin's time in the archives. But he took the slight topic change, aware that explaining his motivations would probably make Martin feel better too. The man wouldn't have asked if that wasn't true, after all.
"...Elias, partly." He looked down, frowning slightly to himself. "I was already somewhat frustrated that he had thrown me into the head archivist position without much preparation, but at least he let me choose my own assistants. I knew Tim, and I had worked with Sasha, so that gave me at least some modicum of control over the situation. But then he thrust me with a third assistant I didn't know and had never even met. So, to be honest, I was rather irritated with your very existence before I even met you." Jon paused for a second, collecting his thoughts. He needed to word the next part correctly.
"...Then you started submitting reports, and, well, I still stand that they needed a good deal of work. But I dealt with it the wrong way," he continued before Martin could get the wrong idea. "I should have worked with you, told you what improvements I was looking for, or maybe paired you with one of the others to help you learn from their reports. But by that point I already had another frustration, as I was just starting to realize the sheer level of disorganization Gertrude Robinson had left behind."
"Ah." Martin smiled just a little bit. "Yeah, I've heard the tapes."
Jon nodded. "And, well, you were a convenient scapegoat for that irritation. I am aware that that did not make my actions any better , but I hope you understand now, that the brunt of my frustration was not personal."
Martin was already nodding. "Yeah, actually, that does help." He properly smiled. "That, uh, that helps a lot, actually. Until the whole Prentiss… thing, I... kind of thought you just hated me."
Jon chuckled mirthlessly. "No. Rest assured, Martin, I did not hate you."
Martin's was almost beaming at this point. "Thank you."
Jon squinted at the other man, an eyebrow now raised. "I hardly think I deserve to be thanked simply for not hating you, Martin. In fact, I should rather be thanking you, for putting up with me and not just quitting on the spot as soon as I started treating you so badly."
Martin did not react to this as Jon had expected. The smile actually fell away from his face, and he bit his lip slightly.
"Martin?" Jon asked immediately, his brow furrowing in concern. He thought the conversation had gone rather well, far better than Jon had expected for either of them, so he had no idea where Martin's current expression had come from.
"I have something to confess to you," Martin blurted out.
"...Very well?" Jon agreed.
"I lied on my resume."
Jon's right eyebrow crept back up his forehead.
"I don't actually have a master's in parapsychology," Martin said, his words getting faster the more he spoke. "Or any master's degree at all. I hadn't been able to get a good job for a while, and I needed to save up money to... I needed to save up some money, so I lied and I said I had a degree I didn't have. So yeah, I couldn't just quit actually, because I don't think there's any way I could get a job as good as this one again, even though you were mad at me, which was probably justified actually considering I barely knew what I was doing-" he winced and cut himself off there, his body rigid with anticipation.
Jon could feel his own face went through a complicated series of emotions, including that familiar irritation he used to send Martin's way every time his gaze landed on the assistant, but it finally settled on some combination of resignation and acceptance. "I suppose that explains your problems with writing reports, then." Martin winced slightly. "...But it could be worse. As I said, my frustration was largely not with you anyway, so I stand by my full apology."
"...Are you going to fire me?"
Jon hummed slightly, thinking that over. But really, there was only one thing he could say. "...No, I'm not going to fire you. That would hardly be fair, considering the past several months. Besides, your reports have been improving significantly despite my lack of guidance, so you're far from the worst assistant I could have anyway."
Martin's mouth twitched back into a small smile. "What a compliment."
Jon rolled his eyes, relaxing a bit at the quip. "In any case, completing your assistant's training will still be far easier than training up a new employee from scratch. It's also worth noting that I highly doubt Elias did not notice the discrepancies on your resume when he hired you in the first place, and he decided to bring you into the Magnus Institute despite that. I can't say I understand his reasoning, as he's usually rather... fastidious about paperwork, but he must have had some reasons."
"Right," Martin murmured. They lapsed into silence, but this time it was indisputably much more comfortable than before. "Well, I know you said not to say this, but thanks anyway. For not firing me, I guess."
Jon sighed with a slight air of longsufferance, but he nodded. "...You're welcome.”
With that out of the way, Martin glanced down at the floor of the lift. “I know it’s still early, but I think I’m going to try to sleep,” he said, “if that’s alright?”
“Of course it is, Martin. I… think I’m going to get back to reading statements, then.”
“Figures you aren’t tired yet,” Martin said, a small smile flashing over his face again. “I know how late you stay up on a normal day, you know. Sometimes when I went to the restroom at midnight I could still hear you in your office.”
“Yes, well, that’s another thing you can blame Gertrude Robinson for,” Jon muttered.
Martin was frowning again now, although it seemed to be more in concern again. “Are you even being paid overtime? I know she left the Archives a mess, but you need to take care of yourself too.”
“...Weren’t you going to sleep?”
The other man rolled his eyes, although thankfully he still didn’t actually look mad. “We’ll talk more about this when we’re not stuck in a lift,” he promised as he laid his head down on the floor, cushioned by his satchel.
“I really hope we don’t,” Jon muttered again. He could tell that Martin heard it by the faint smile that flashed across his face again.
It took a few seconds for Martin to adjust the bag to be a good enough cushion, but eventually he seemed comfortable, his face going slack. Not even a minute later, the man was fast asleep.
Evidently Jon had fallen asleep sometime in the night too, because he woke up to voices outside of the lift.
Martin had clearly just woken up too, because when Jon glanced his way, he was only just putting his glasses back on. He looked back at Jon, somewhat bleary-eyed. “Are they here?”
“I’m not sure,” Jon said. Since he seemed to be marginally more awake, he got to his feet and moved to the lift doors, rapping on them loudly. “Hello?” he called. “Are you with the fire brigade?”
There was some shuffling from outside, and then a loud voice, blessedly, responded. “Yeah, that’s us. Just give us a few minutes, alright?”
“Right,” Jon agreed, and turned back around to survey the state of the lift. Martin clearly had the same idea, because he was currently packing his lunch box back into his bag. Jon, for his part, hadn’t really brought anything with him into the lift; there were, however, a few statements left on the floor, one of which he had clearly fallen asleep reading before he had dropped it onto the floor. He bent down to tidy them up, only realizing that was a bad idea when some of his bandages tugged the wrong way (again) and he ended up wincing and straightening back up.
“Whoa!” Martin said, immediately ducking over to the pile. “I’ll do that, Jon. You just rest.”
“I don’t need to rest ,” Jon muttered to himself, and sat down to rest. Not because he needed it, of course. Just because Martin was already closing up the file box because it was already done, and for no other reason.
Martin was smiling again.
They settled back down on the floor (although this time sitting next to each other against the back wall) and waited. The moment when the doors finally, finally opened was… actually rather anticlimactic, in the end. Mostly because the two firefighters (yes, apparently they’d only sent two , even though Jon was pretty sure that was much fewer than were normally sent in situations like this, especially when it was early enough in the morning that they probably didn’t have much else to be doing anyway) didn’t stick around or really do anything to make sure that the two of them were alright; in fact, as soon as the doors were open, they both practically scurried away.
“That was… odd,” Martin said as he watched them disappear around the corner back towards the front door, and gave an awkward chuckle. “...Well, I’ll bring this box down to the Archives and use the restroom. Should we, uh, meet in the break room?”
“Yes, that sounds acceptable,” Jon agreed absently, currently putting most of his focus into not pulling at his bandages too much as he stood up again. “Would you text Tim and Sasha?”
“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin said, fumbling for his phone. He looked up as Jon awkwardly stood in the open doorway of the lift. “...Right, I guess I should probably leave first. Wouldn't want to get stuck in here again… ”
Jon felt his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”
They left the lift together, Martin’s satchel back on his shoulder and the file box tucked under one arm. They turned to survey the half-open door. “D’you think we should close them behind us…?”
Jon flattened his lips together. “I say Elias should come fix his own problems. And if anybody else is foolish enough to get stuck in a lift that’s clearly broken, that’s their own fault.”
“...Well, alright,” Martin agreed, looking a bit bemused. “Anyways, don’t wait up for me, I’ll be down when I’m done texting them, okay?”
“Alright,” Jon agreed, and made his way down to the Archives (and the restroom therein) alone.
By the time he and Martin met back up again in the Archives break room, it was barely half an hour until the start of the workday. Jon brought his laptop into the room, which Martin protested at first, but Jon promised that the only work he was doing was emailing Elias to tell him that the entire department would be taking the rest of the day off.
“What?” he said, somewhat defensively, when he registered Martin’s raised eyebrows as he set a mug of tea beside the laptop.
“Nothing!” Martin said, sitting across from Jon. “It’s just that I didn’t really think you were serious? About taking the day off. You’re always so… fixated on working.”
“Well…” Jon twisted the mug in his hands. “I suppose I may have been taking things too seriously,” he admitted. “Not the real statements, of course. But… everything else. After we talked last night, I had some more time to think, and… I suppose most of it doesn’t really matter, does it. Perhaps we don’t need to spend as much effort working on all of the clear joke statements as we have been.”
“Sorry, did I just hear Jon admit that he does too much work?” Sasha’s voice rang out behind them, clearly delighted.
Jon immediately twisted around and glared as their remaining two coworkers entered the room. Based on their expressions, he had absolutely no doubt that they had been listening in for quite some time.
Tim sidled up behind Martin and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Marto, you’re a genius , you know that? I don’t know what you said when you apparently talked last night,” here he waggled his eyebrows as if the word talked was somehow something scandalous, “but you know I’ve been trying to get our boss here to stop overworking himself since the day I met him, right?”
“Yes, yes, this is all very interesting,” Jon scowled before Martin could reply. “I thought we were going for breakfast?”
“Don’t think we don’t know you’re just changing the subject, Jon,” Sasha said, but her eyes were sparkling just as much as Tim’s. “Where were you thinking?”
“We should probably get changed first?” Martin offered, eyeing the tote bag Sasha had hanging over her shoulder.
“Right you are!” Tim agreed, clearly having forgotten about that step as well. He passed his own bag to Jon. “Here you go, then. My most boring and stuffy outfit, just for you.”
“Yes, thank you, Tim,” Jon said flatly, rolling his eyes. Tim, unfortunately, just looked delighted at the response.
When Jon and Martin got back into the break room, Elias was there. Jon immediately found himself scowling again.
“Ah, good morning Jon, Martin,” Elias said blithely, giving them all a very corporate smile. “Glad to see you up and about again. I take it the rescue went well?”
“Um, yes, it did,” Martin said, clearly picking up on Jon’s foul mood and hoping to get in a word in before he could (which, honestly, Jon couldn’t really fault him for). Martin smiled tentatively. “Did you get Jon’s email?”
“That I did,” Elias agreed. He looked around at the four of them. “I hardly see why all four of you need the day off when only two of you were trapped for the night, but I digress. I suppose given your injuries, another day of rest could hardly hurt.”
“Right, well we’ll be off, then!” Tim said immediately, already on his way out of the room. Clearly, he didn’t want to stick around in case Elias changed his mind. “We’ll see you tomorrow, double-boss!”
“Indeed,” Elias agreed, and Jon could feel the man’s eyes on them as they practically fled the Archives.
“Well, that went well,” Sasha said cheerfully when they finally got outside. Martin in particular looked incredibly relieved to be out in the fresh summer air again. Honestly, Jon found himself feeling rather the same way. “So, where to?”
“I was thinking the sandwich place down the block?” Martin suggested. He glanced a bit tentatively Jon’s way. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, that sounds acceptable,” Jon agreed.
“Which in Jon-speak, means wow, that’s perfect, Martin! What an amazing suggestion! ” Tim said in a stage whisper behind Jon’s back, his voice going into a higher pitch as he did a very bad job of imitating Jon’s voice.
In the past, Jon may have been irritated by one of his assistants mocking him like that. But with the sun shining brightly through the clouds and the sound of his coworkers chatting behind him, with the memory of him finally reconciling with Martin last night… it was hard to bring up those familiar feelings of agitation or worry again.
Right now, they had all the time in the world.