Chapter Text
“Sometimes I worry you’ll work yourself to death, Jon.”
Sasha placed a cup of tea and three more files on his desk. He ignored the tea and immediately picked up the files, flipping through the papers inside and marking something down.
“Well according to these statements, ghosts are real, so that shouldn’t be much of a problem,” he scoffed.
She sighed and checked her wristwatch. “It’s 5:30, I’m going home now. I suggest you follow my example- Elias told me that you’ve been staying until 9 on most nights, sometimes longer.”
Jon didn’t bother to look up at her and instead opened one of the manila folders. “I can take care of myself, Sasha. There’s work to be done and I do it, I see nothing wrong with that,” he said.
“Right.” Sasha opened the door with a gentle creak, but stopped before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Already Jon had bent over the files, scribbling with a pen.
“Yes, yes, I’ll see you then, goodnight Sasha.”
And with that, the door shut and Jon was left alone in his office. He groaned and leaned back in his chair, which rolled slightly from the motion. The tight ponytail which he’d kept his hair in all day began to ache, and so he pulled out the elastic and let the long brown hair fall to his shoulders. A streak of gray in front of his face reminded him of just how exhausted he felt.
Jon knew he was far too tired for someone his age. He’d barely turned 30 and his patience for life had already been worn thin. His back ached every day, likely from hunching over his desk, and frequent stress migraines plagued him. In the span of a couple years Jon felt as if he’d aged a decade.
Despite Sasha’s earlier pleas, Jon let the tape recorder whir past eight o’clock. He’d drank only half his tea before he focused too intently on his work, and forgot about it entirely. With the sun long gone down it sat cold on his desk.
The clock read 8:37 when Jon finally stood and gathered his things. Gertrude’s lack of organization had led him to work for long hours every day, without being compensated for overtime. He pulled on a long black coat and left the archives.
Today, he’d chosen to take the bus to work because of the winter weather. He did the same on his way home. Jon stared out the window and contemplated how mood could have such an effect on the appearance of a place. The strangers in the bus lacked energy at such a time of night, only made more sluggish by the cold weather, and it resulted in a grayer London landscape. Pictures taken by tourists made the place look beautiful, but Jon knew better. Cities were the condensation of humanity, which usually resulted in dirt and grime more than anything. Still, Jon found he couldn’t stand to live anywhere else.
When the doors opened at his stop, Jon grabbed his briefcase and left. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, his long coat caught in the door. He yelped and pulled it out before the fabric could be entirely wedged in. The bus drove off and left Jon with a slightly torn coat. He sighed, and figured this may as well just happen.
The short walk to his flat felt extended, a side effect of the dreadful cold. Jon knew the way without thinking, and so he let his mind drift off as he walked. He thought of work, and how Sasha and the others were always worrying about him. Why? His life was none of their concern, even if they thought of him as a friend. Martin certainly acted the worst of the bunch. He constantly checked on Jon, brought him tea, reminded him to eat. As if Jon didn’t know how to take care of himself! He didn’t need to be doted on. Sure, he sometimes postponed his lunch break, by so many hours that he didn’t see the point of eating at work when it became so late. It didn’t mean Jon needed anyone’s help. He just worked hard.
Jon pulled out the key to his flat and, once in, flipped on the lights and started making dinner. In reality, he just microwaved it. The leftovers from takeout the night before came out steaming, but disappointingly soggy. He ate while watching reruns of… something. The telly was on purely for some background noise, to keep the flat from hanging in complete silence.
Sometimes Jon wondered what it would be like to live with another person. He hadn’t shared a home with someone else since university, and that had been just a dorm room. On the surface, Jon found the idea to be insufferable. Constant interruptions into what you were doing, sharing all the food, and double the mess to clean. But when he let his thoughts explore the concept further, he couldn’t help but long for domestic bliss.
Jon decided it could wait.
The office door swung open suddenly, and Jon jumped in his chair. He relaxed again when he heard a familiar chipper voice.
“Morning, Jon! I brought you a coffee, how you like it… a splash of milk and some cinnamon, right?” Martin stood in the doorway as if he had to be invited inside. Jon was reminded of some of the vampire related statements.
Jon spun his chair around to face Martin. “Yes, yes, thank you,” he said, grudgingly grateful for Martin’s efforts. The cardboard around the coffee cup showed it to be from a small cafe down the street, and not just the break room.
“...Well, are you going to come inside?” asked Jon.
Martin stopped staring at him and dropped his eyes, as if pulled out of a trance. “Oh, yes! Sorry. Erm, here you are,” he said, coming to Jon’s desk and awkwardly passing him the coffee. “Didn’t get as much sleep as I should’ve last night, I’m sure you know.”
Jon placed the coffee on his desk. “I do?”
He looked back at Martin, who gestured with his hands but didn’t make much noise. “I- well, I figured that you, you know- I should be getting back. To my desk. Work to do,” he stammered. “...Yay?”
“Sounds like a good plan,” said Jon. He turned back around and opened his briefcase, very obviously ending the conversation. He let out a sigh of relief as he heard the door shut.
Martin may have been unpolished and awkward, but he did know exactly how Jon liked his coffee. He sipped some and felt a small bit of energy course through his veins. The tape recorder waited on his desk. He settled in for a long, hopefully productive day of work.
Halfway through recording a statement, this plan was interrupted.
“Hey, Jon? Could you come meet with the rest of us?” asked Tim, poking his head around the doorframe.
Jon gestured toward the recorder, which still whirred away. “I’m in the middle of a statement.”
“Well, it’s important. Mark where you left off or something.”
Jon sighed, but he knew Tim wasn’t the type to interrupt his work for something trivial. He turned off the recorder and marked a light line next to the paragraph he’d stopped at. “I’ll be right there.”
Elias, Sasha, Martin, and Tim were all sitting in the main area. They watched Jon drag up a chair and sit as well. “Should I be worried?” he asked.
Sasha shook her head. “For once, we’ve got good news,” she said.
Martin glanced at all the others, as if asking for permission. He did a tiny shimmy, unable to contain some sort of excitement. “We’re going to New York!” he burst out.
This indeed came as news. Jon didn’t move in his chair. “Why, exactly, are we apparently travelling to America?”
Elias took hold of the conversation. “It’s not for a month or so. There’s a global conference for paranormal and esoteric archives being held there, and it seems we are now large enough to be requested to attend. As the head of the Institute, I have to remain here, and no one upstairs seemed quite keen on going to represent us. So, I’ve chosen you four to do so.” Upon seeing Jon’s unenthusiastic expression, he continued. “These three have already agreed, so technically, you wouldn’t have to go- but I would like it if you did, considering you’re the Head Archivist.”
Sasha leaned in front of them. “You’ll also be paid time and a half, and the flight and hotel compensated,” she said. Sometimes Jon thought that, out of all of them, Sasha knew him best.
“Yes, I’ll go,” he said.
Elias stood from his chair. “Great. Now that we’re on the same page, I’ll send all of you an email with further information and a link to the conference website. We’ll have access to the flight tickets in a couple weeks,” he said.
When Elias had left, Martin practically squealed in delight. “New York! Can you believe it? I’ve always wanted to go, but I’ve never found the time. Or the money. And now we’re being given both!”
Sasha laughed, but nodded. “I’ve been there once, when I was a little girl. We took a family trip to the city- it was wonderful. Then again, everything feels more magical through the lens of childhood, doesn’t it? Still, I can’t help but feel excited,” she said.
“You seem rather unenthusiastic, Jon,” said Tim. “Something you’ve got against New York?”
Jon shrugged. “No, no, not really. I just find it silly for our department to take a trip to New York when there’s so much to be done right here. Is this- this conference all that necessary? I can’t think of what we stand to gain from it as a global society.”
“I’m sure they’ll have us do something helpful,” said Martin. “But even if the whole thing turns out not to matter, I’m still looking forward to it. I mean, a week in New York? There’s so much to do!”
“A week?! For a work conference? That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, it is a long ways away,” said Tim.
Jon muttered something under his breath the others didn’t hear and stood. “I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you all later.”
He turned down the hallway and opened the door, but paused before entering his office. His name had come up in their hushed conversation. He strained to listen to it.
“...not excited? Sometimes I wonder if he’s alright, you know. Our boss has got all the personality of the stale graham crackers in the break room cabinet. When will we throw those damn things out?” Tim’s skills were lacking when it came to whispering.
“Hey, don’t talk about him like that!” said Martin. Jon was intrigued that Martin, of all people, came to his defense. He knew he treated Martin the worst, and did feel guilty for it, but Jon had always found it difficult to mask frustration. “He might get rather… stubborn, or antisocial, but Jon is devoted to his work. And, well- I wish I knew him better.”
Tim laughed. “Martin, all of us are quite aware that you want to know Jon better. It’s painfully obvious.”
Jon stepped inside his office and closed the door as quietly as possible. He’d had enough of hearing this, and unfortunately, wasn’t even surprised.