Chapter Text
Friday, November 11th 2016, 7:55 pm
Martin lets out a laugh and takes a sip of his beer when his phone buzzes, mindlessly picking it up and seeing Tim’s name on the screen, eyebrows stitching together in concern as he reads the text preview–
Tim: You’ll never guess wtf Sasha…
He unlocks his phone to read the full message,
Tim: You’ll never guess wtf Sasha just walked in on at the office and if u guessed Jon going through her desk congrats ur right.
It’s enough, Martin
We have to go to Elias for real this time
Enough. Is. Enough
“Oh, Jesus, Jon.” Martin mutters to himself.
Martin: Okay. You’re right. First thing Monday, I promise.
“What’s going on?” Melanie asks. Martin doesn’t answer, and she tilts her head. “Martin?”
“Huh? Oh it’s, it’s nothing. It’s just Jon.”
“It’s almost eight, what does he need?”
“It-no, sorry it’s about Jon.”
“Oh…” A long uncomfortable silence. “Is he…okay?”
“I– no? Yes, physically, but…no, he’s not okay.” Martin says, putting his phone away again. “Sorry, we don’t need to talk about him. I know you guys don’t get along, just don’t mention it to Georgie? He really does care what she thinks of him.”
“Okay, I won’t. Promise. What’s going on?”
“Sasha found Jon going through her desk,” he admits. “Tim wants to go to Elias on Monday.”
“Is this still about whatever it is he’s been going mad about lately?”
“If you mean that he thinks someone is out to get him, yes. I just…he needs help. And I’m really worried. If we’re the reason he gets fired-”
“Martin, if he gets fired it’s because he’s acting strange. Look, I’m sorry you’re all going through this. I don’t…hate the man but just because we don’t get on doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with him. For what it’s worth, I think you should go to Elias. I think it’ll be okay. I know you care about him but come on, man.”
“I know.” Martin sighs, dragging the end of his words out. “I know. I’ll-I’ll go…Monday, I’ll go.”
“Good. Now put the phone away, we need to focus on business.”
“What business?”
“The business of getting drunk early so we can go play card games at your place. Please. The only thing I’m thinking about is drinking three more beers, going to your flat, and slaughtering you in a game of slapjack.”
“Alright, you’re on, King.”
*****
Jon stands on his balcony, chain smoking as his foot taps anxiously. He can’t stop thinking about those damn pictures. They just look wrong. The pictures, the torn up papers, the tape recorder…twice. How did I forget I was recording twice? He thinks, staring off absentmindedly into the distance. He comes back to himself when the cigarette burns down and singes his fingers. He curses quietly and drops it off the balcony, sighing as he leans forward to rest his forearms on the railing. It was getting cold out, which he hated, but in this moment he needed it. It was grounding, his fingers and toes already going numb from the frigid breeze.
Martin is out with Melanie, and Jon is itching wondering if Martin knows something. He doesn’t, right? He continues the battle with himself regarding if Martin can be trusted or not. He wonders if there’s answers in his flat, and fights not to let himself in. At this point anyway, he’d be caught by the scent of cigarette smoke that would follow him. He wishes he had someone, anyone, to talk to about this. Christ, even Melanie (God forbid). He felt so alone, so scared, so tense all the time. He perks up a bit when he hears the loud voices of Martin and Melanie from up the block. He doesn’t hear Martin like that unless he’s with one of the others, when he can let his guard down. He makes his way back inside and lays down on the couch, falling asleep to the sounds he despised a year ago.
Saturday, November 19th 2016, 3:34 pm
“I need to talk to you.” Tim says, standing up from his desk and heading toward an empty hall. Martin looks up from the statement he’s working on, then around the room. He pauses the tape and takes the headphones off completely.
“To me?” he asks.
“Martin, we’re the only ones here. Jon’s recording, so now.”
“Right, yup, okay.” he nods, standing up and following Tim around the corner, assuming he was still trying to move as far from Jon’s office as possible. Tim leans against the wall to face the corner, keeping an eye out for Jon. “I assume this is about him?”
“Look, I tried talking to Elias about it. It doesn’t seem to be doing good.”
“He’s under a lot of pressure. You know how messed up he’s been since Prentiss.”
“How messed up he’s been!?”
Martin raises his hands in defense, seeing Tim’s hackles raised. “Of course, I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t, just-”
“No! Because I didn’t start stalking my coworkers.” he says, and Martin can’t read his expression; if he’s angry at Jon, his boss, or angry at Jon, his friend, while he watches him lose himself.
“Maybe try talking to him.” Martin suggests for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Sure, like he doesn’t already look at me like I’m a murderer.”
He can’t be sure, but Martin thinks he almost hears a tinge of hurt in Tim’s voice.
“Look, we just gotta let him work through this. I suggested therapy but he just says no.”
“Well, we need to do something.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“No, Martin, not–” Tim sighs and puts his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes and slides them down, hands pressed together, as if in prayer, over his mouth before he lets his head fall back. “We need to do something. I don’t know what, but I cannot work like this anymore. That is not the Jon I know…I knew.”
“Tim, it’s still him, just traumatized. You're still you. You’ve both been through a lot and I mean, you guys are really the only ones who-who get what the other is going through, so maybe–”
“Yeah, right. I forgot. You don’t get what it was like.”
Martin pales and takes a small step back from Tim, crossing his arms, as if trying to make himself smaller. “That’s not fair, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to lose you guys. I had to live down here for weeks, we’ve all been through something really terrible, Tim. If-if I could take it back, be more careful–”
“Yeah, well, you can’t. Look, you’re with me on this or you aren’t. I don’t care anymore.” Tim lets out a disingenuous laugh and shakes his head, walking out of the hall and back to their own space. When he re-enters the room, he sees Jon standing at the threshold a bit awkwardly, looking as disheveled and tired as normal lately. “What do you want, Jon?”
“I was just going to tell you two you can go home. I appreciate the extra help today, but I’ll be finishing up here shortly. No sense in keeping you much longer.” he says. Tim sees his hands shaking and looks at him suspiciously, unaware Jon had caught part of their conversation.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m– sorry?”
“Scared or something? Think I’m the big scary murderer?” Tim asks, turning to pack his bag.
Jon clenches his jaw and straightens up slightly before settling and deciding to pick his battles, but still not being able to fully keep his mouth shut. “Just go home, Tim.” A long pause. “You know, I really hope you never meet anyone who doesn’t think you’re as funny as you seem to think you are.”
Tim’s bag slams back down on his desk, “And what’s supposed to mean?” he asks through gritted teeth, taking a step towards Jon right as Martin walks back into the space.
“Woah, hey, hey!” Martin rushes to stand in between them, holding his arms out like he’s trying to keep wild dogs at a distance. “Enough! God, I am so sick of you two fighting! Go home, Tim. I’ll be right behind you.”
Tim stands frozen in place for a long moment, staring Jon down. The sight from either side is upsetting. From Tim’s perspective, he sees someone he thought was a close friend once. Someone who went from the new guy in research who tried too hard to keep to himself to…this. A paranoid, frail looking man who frankly, Tim was unsure of what he might be capable of. And Jon? All he sees is a threat. No longer the warm, kind, obnoxious Tim he once knew. There’s only anger in his eyes. After what felt like the longest twenty seconds of Jon and Martin’s lives, Tim harshly snatches his bag once more and storms out of the room. Martin sighs and drops his arms, watching him leave before turning back to Jon.
“Are you alright?” Martin asks, letting his guard down a bit. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just…nothing. I’m fine Martin. Enjoy the rest of your Saturday.” Jon turns to walk back to his office and Martin takes a step in the same direction.
“Wait, what about you?”
“I…” Jon looks back at Martin, then around the room, landing on the other man in the end. “I have work to do.”
“Yeah…sure.” he sighs. He moves to his desk and packs his things, the two of them standing in the silence. He puts his bag over his shoulder and looks at Jon sadly. “You need help, Jon…please.”
Jon watches as Martin leaves, his eyes glued to the floor. When he’s sure Martin is gone, he feels his body get heavy, exhaustion hitting him all at once. He drags himself to the bathroom, running the cold water and rinsing his face to try to get some kind of life back in himself, but realises it’s futile when he looks in the mirror. No wonder people thought he was losing it. He hadn’t really taken a moment to look at himself lately. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding it. His eyes are heavy and the circles under his eyes are dark. Even his clothes aren’t as neat as he’d like, which had been pointed out previously. He takes a paper towel and pats his face dry before he goes back to his office. He takes the tape recorder from inside his jacket, adding in a note about the date and his concerns about Tim. He hides the tape away, sitting in the heavy silence of his office, passing out before he knew it.
Friday, November 25th 2016, 4:48 pm
Jon paces his office, chewing the skin off the side of his thumb. The week had been bad. Terrible, really. They were all acting differently, even Martin, who genuinely concerned him the most. The looks, the conversations stopping when he enters the room, it’s getting to be too much. He finally sits down in his chair and rests his head in his hands. He doesn’t know if he wants to sleep, or yell, or break something. Finally, he opts for a cigarette.
*****
In the bullpen, Martin sits in his chair with his elbows resting on his knees and heart pounding. Tim is leaned against his desk, and the tense energy coming from him is palpable, and Sasha continues working quietly at her desk, even though the day is almost done. Martin and Tim straighten up when they hear the footsteps of Elias come down the stairs and look in his direction. The man looks as unphased as ever, if not a little more stern than usual.
“Is this a good time?” he asks, Tim nodding and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Just been waiting on you, boss.”
With a single nod, Elias turns to walk towards Jon’s office. Sasha turns her monitor off and the three follow him down the hall. Elias moves to knock on Jon’s door at the exact moment it opens and Jon startles, looking at the group in front of him.
“What is this?” he asks, and Martin can see he’s immediately on edge.
“Do you have a moment, Jon?” Elias asks, and Jon suddenly feels very small. He looks at Tim, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Martin, who looks sad and guilty. And Sasha, who looks at Jon with care and concern.
“I was about to step outside, but…” he scans the group again and postures slightly, not wanting to give away how nervous he is. What if I was wrong? What if they’re all involved? I’m not safe I should run or fight maybe I can– “I suppose this is as good of a time as any.” He turns back into his office and sits in his chair, leaning back into it. He doesn’t think of it at first, but when the tape recorder catches his eye on his desk, he finds himself turning it on before he realises what he’s doing. “You don’t mind if I record this, I trust?”
5:00 pm
Martin and Tim sit silently together in the breakroom. Sasha left as soon as the intervention was over, and when Elias tried speaking with Tim, he blew him off. Tim was still angry about Elias not stepping in earlier, after all the meetings and concern about Jon it never should’ve gotten that far. Breaking the silence, Martin looks in Tim’s direction on the couch and smiles a little. “I can’t believe you called Elias a coward.”
Tim lets out a breathy laugh and looks over at Martin, and, god…he looks so tired. “I would’ve called him a lot worse but I wanted to keep it professional.”
“Oh, of course.” Martin nods, looking into the cup of tea he’s holding. “Jon looks…”
“Bad. Yeah.” Tim agrees. “I can’t…my feelings toward him are complicated right now, Martin…but he clearly is not well.”
“Yeah…” he sighs. “Do you think the video will help?”
“If it doesn’t then I might actually kill him.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” There’s a long silence, and then, “I was almost afraid of him in there. He’s lost himself and I don’t know how we get him back. I don’t think we can, if I’m being honest. God,” he leans back against the couch and runs his hands through his hair. “I never thought I’d miss Jon just being a fucking piece of work. I didn’t think he could be worse.”
6:05 pm
Jon walks into the breakroom and Martin and Tim straighten up, looking at each other before they look at Jon. “Hi, Jon.” Martin starts, knowing neither of them would say anything.
“You’re still here.” he says quietly, moving towards the kettle when Martin stands up.
“I got it, sit.” Martin nods. Jon sighs in resignation, sitting at the table, not fully able to look at Tim. “We wanted to stay for a bit. We figured you’d watch the tape right away.”
“Yes, well…you figured correctly.”
“And? Are we the killers you were so sure of?”
“Tim.” Martin whispers, firm, but still gentle.
“No, it’s alright, Martin…” Jon takes a deep breath and rests his elbows on the table. “No, you…you’re all accounted for.”
“Of course we are! It was insane of you to believe that we would ever–”
“I am trying to apologise, Tim, if you could just–!”
“Enough!” Martin raises his voice. “Can you two just, stop! For the love of god! You’re grown men. You’re friends, or- you were so can we just be in the same room for two minutes without you biting each other's heads off?” The room goes silent, the water boiling and hum of the fluorescents being the only noise filling the otherwise silent room. Martin turns off the kettle and makes Jon’s tea, placing it in front of him. Jon nods his thanks and stays silent after the scolding from Martin. “So…what do you think now, Jon?”
“I…I really, don’t know. But I won’t stop until I find out.”
“Christ alive.” Tim laughs, standing up and holding his hands up. “I can’t be part of this. You need fucking help, Jon. It’s not fair of you to take everyone else down with you in your spiral.”
“Something is happening here, Tim, I know I haven’t been fair and I am sorry but–”
“I’m gonna go. I’ll see you guys on Monday.” And with that, he leaves Jon and Martin alone together.
Martin huffs in irritation, muttering to himself “He’s always running away, I can’t believe him he is just so…” he sits at the table with Jon, trailing off, looking at him without judgment or expectation. Finally, Jon speaks up.
“I know I messed up, Martin.” he says, keeping his head hung. “I hope you can all forgive me…or at least can still respect me as a colleague.” Another long silence hangs over them, Martin not knowing what to say. Of course he respects Jon. He–...of course he does. “How did I let this happen?”
“Jon–”
“No, I…I was supposed to-to be the Archivist, that’s it, that was–...we were friends, I thought maybe things could be almost normal. I know that’s a selfish thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but–”
“It’s not.”
“It is. I’m not saying it’s bad, just…selfish. I should never have taken this job, it belonged to Sasha, but…well, I wouldn’t want her in my shoes at this point.”
“Honestly I didn’t think you even really considered any of us like…proper friends so I guess hearing you say that is a bit surprising.”
“Hm, fair enough.” he lets out a dejected laugh and a small sip of his tea. “You should go home, Martin. I’m sure you have other ways to spend your Friday evening.”
“Nah, not really. Were you going to stay late?”
“Mm, more than likely.”
“I’ll order dinner.” Martin stands up to leave the room and get his phone, Jon stammering a little.
“I-Martin, you- no, you don’t have to–”
“Already doing it!” he calls down the hall. Jon laughs softly and smiles, shaking his head. Martin’s kindness was a luxury he didn’t deserve, and he’d never forget it after tonight.
Thursday, December 1st 2016, 6:16 pm
“Come in!” Jon calls, not looking up from the paper he’s writing on, notes to go with copies of statements. The door opens, and he doesn’t recognise the footsteps, making him look up to find a stranger in his office. She was tall, not quite 6’ but close to, with a long braid of blonde hair going down her back and a severe look on her face. “I–sorry, miss, the Archives are closed to the public. Ah- how did you even–?”
“Are you Jonathan Sims?” she asks, a touch of a Scouse accent creeping through, if he’s not mistaken.
“I…yes. Who are you?” he wonders as he starts to feel his stomach drop.
“Detective Daisy Tonner.” she replies, pulling a tape out of her pocket and flipping it around in her fingers. “Brought this,” she holds it up between two fingers. “From Basira.”
“Oh. Oh! Yes, we, I uh, thank you.” Jon gets up to take the tape but when he reaches, she moves it just out of his reach. “Sorry. What are you doing?”
“I don’t know if I should give this to you.” she says bluntly, Jon slightly taken aback.
“You don’t…what?”
“Maybe you should sit.”
7:18 pm
Jon sits at his desk, replaying the interaction over and over again. The way she looked so angry at him after her statement. Like he forced her somehow. How easily she answered his questions…she seemed like she’d rather be anywhere but in Jon’s office. He’s exhausted beyond belief, and just wants to lay down. As he’s exiting, he sees a shadow out of the corner of his eye and he jumps, letting out a yell. The shadow yells back and Jon rams his hip into a desk at the same time he notices it’s Martin.
“Oh– Jon, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”
“Oh for the love of–! Martin, what are you still doing here?!”
“I just got caught up with these statements and I was getting ready to leave when that police officer came in here and, well, truthfully I-I didn’t like the look of her so I stayed and just…got distracted, I guess.”
“Ah, I…okay.” Jon huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “We should go. It’s going to keep getting colder outside.” he says, walking over to the coatrack and unhooking Martin’s jacket, holding it out for him. “Here, you’ll definitely want this.”
8:59 pm
Martin hurriedly unlocks the front door, holding it open for Jon first before they both rush inside. “Thank god for heating.” Jon shivers, hands shoved tight in his coat pockets, freezing from the rain. “I’m…do you want to come in for some tea?”
“Oh, are you sure? I…no offense but you look beat, Jon. Plus we’re both pretty wet.”
“I’m sure. You’ve been…you’ve been the only one lately who has been patient with me even when I don’t deserve it. I think I can make you a cup of tea. You can go get dry clothes first, if you’d like.”
“One condition. Let me make it?”
Jon chuckles softly and nods. “Yes, alright. You do have a talent for it. I’ll get the kettle going.” he says while they make their way up the stairs, and Jon lets himself into the flat while Martin runs upstairs.
When he returns, Martin makes his way to the kitchen, familiar with the layout from the few times he’s been here now.
“Earl grey, please!” Jon requests as he exits the bathroom, towel drying his hair.
“No, I’m making herbal for us both. You don’t need more caffeine!”
“What are you, my parents?” Jon mutters, flopping down on the couch and letting his head fall back.
“No, your parents are dead.” Martin says, and they both freeze. That wasn’t funny, oh my god, why would I say that?! Stupid! After a tense, but brief silence, Jon starts laughing. And laughing. And laughing. “O-Oh, god, Jon I’m sorry, that was not funny, I don’t know why I–”
“No! No, it–” he keeps laughing, taking his glasses off and wiping his tears away. “You aren’t wrong. Oh, Jesus.” he collects himself and puts his glasses back on, letting out a satisfied sigh. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”
Martin laughs, running his hands down his face. “Christ, I really thought I offended you. I’m still sorry.” he says, pulling the mugs from the cabinet. Jon likes the teal ceramic one because it’s heavy, Martin thinks as he pulls it out.
“It’s really alright, I promise. That was quite funny. You’re quick witted.”
“Hm, got me in trouble a lot when I was younger.” he chuckles as he prepares their respective teas.
“I imagine it did.”
After having their drinks together, Martin excuses himself once it’s clear Jon’s fighting not to nod off. He gets in bed and stares at the ceiling. He’s excited. He’s sad. He’s confused. He’s thrilled. I’m in l– “No.” he says out loud, covering his eyes with his hands and loudly groaning. “Yes. God, I love him!” he says out loud, thankfully only to himself. “I hate this. I hate this I hate this I hate this.”
All he can think of is Jon putting himself in danger, and how much that terrifies him. He knows Jon well enough to know he means it when he says that he won’t stop until he finds the answers he’s looking for, and he’s afraid to see how far he’ll go.