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It’s a gift from Georgie.
Jon has to admit he panics slightly when she hands him the ring box. Yes, she might not be on one knee, but what else could she mean by giving him a ring. And it’s not that Jon doesn’t have feelings for Georgie, doesn’t care for her, but they’ve only been dating for three months and even he knows that’s a bit soon for a wedding proposal. He’s nineteen and barely through his second year of university, he’s not ready for marriage.
His panic quickly turns to confusion though when he opens up the box to find a simple black band, not exactly a typical engagement ring. It’s made of onyx and is satisfyingly cold to the touch. He turns it around in his hands a little.
“Thank you, Georgie, but- um… why have you given me a ring?” Jon asks, and Georgie just looks at him perplexed.
Her face quickly turns to one of understanding though as she states, “you don’t know what this means, do you?”
Jon doesn’t, so Georgie explains. She says it’s a symbol, that lots of ace people wear a black ring on their right middle finger as an indicator of their sexuality. She says she’d got it for him as a more discreet way of showing his pride, which Jon is grateful for. Really, he’s still coming to terms with his sexuality, having only learnt that it was even a thing about a month ago. He doesn’t think he’s ready to go waving a pride flag around yet.
“I- thank you Georgie, really.” Jon says, and the amount of sincerity in his voice surprises even himself. Because Georgie’s been so good about this, so supportive. Jon had been terrified when he first started to find excuses to not have sex with her, certain that she would soon bore of him and leave. Or worse, force him to actually go through with it. Instead, she sat with him, listened to how he felt and helped him put a name to something he’d always considered a defect.
And now here she is, giving him a ring that obviously cost her quite a bit of money so that he can begin to express his sexuality in a subtle way. He knows that this is her way of supporting him, telling him its fine and that she still cares for him, even if they never sleep together. Jon can’t even begin to explain how much that means to him.
He continues to wear the ring long after they’ve broken up. He knows, logically that he could get a new one, but that doesn’t feel right. Because the ring has come to symbolise more than just his own acceptance of himself, it also symbolises the acceptance of others.
***
He knows it’s for his own safety, but it still hurts, watching the decontamination crew take all his stuff away to be incinerated. He’s currently sat on the front steps of the institute with the others, wearing the joggers and jumper that the medical staff gave to him. Behind him he can hear Tim loudly complaining about how it’s unfair that all their stuff has to be destroyed while the statements get to stay in the archive.
Normally Jon would chastise Tim for a comment like that, remind him of work ethics and the importance of their jobs. But this time he stays silent as he finds himself agreeing. And it’s silly, he knows that, getting so upset over losing a couple of items. For gods’ sake, poor Martin has basically just lost the few remaining items he still had, yet Jon’s out here mourning a couple pairs of clothes and some stationary. Pathetic. He goes to fiddle with his ring, a nervous stim he’s had for many years now, and his face falls when he remembers that there’s nothing there.
And that’s it isn’t it, the reason why he can feel tears well up in his eyes. That ring was important to him, a gift from Georgie, an indicator of who he was. And now it’s just… gone. It’s gone and his hand feels too light, his fingers feel too fidgety, and it feels like his world is changing around him.
That night he goes online and orders himself a new ring. it’s nowhere near as fancy as the one Georgie got him, but it’ll do. He then closes that browser and brings up a webpage on Millbank prison. He has stuff he needs to do.
***
He doesn’t notice until much later that the ring is gone. It’s understandable though, he had much bigger things on his mind, like Michael and the not-Sasha and fucking Jurgen Leitner being alive and in the tunnels. And then Jurgen Leitner being dead and in his office.
Jon had never given much thought to what he would do if he found himself on the run, which is weird considering his large amounts of paranoia. However, one thing he wouldn’t have thought is that his last action before draining his bank account and going into hiding would be to buy a three pack of black rings from Primark. It’s stupid and reckless, he knows that, but he’s currently not thinking all that rationally. He just remembers how bereft he felt without that ring after Prentis and doesn’t want to go through that again.
He’s surprised that when he finally makes it to Georgie’s, shaking and with only the clothes on his back, a tape recorder and three rings to his name, that she actually lets him in.
***
The pain of searing metal melting to his skin is unbearable. It burns white hot and turns his already pitched scream into a guttural howl. The whole time Jude perry just looks on with a toothy grin and a manic gleam in her eye. Jon’s surprised she doesn’t start laughing.
It’s a long and painful process to remove the warped metal when he cleans up his hand. He wishes that he could ask Georgie for help but then he’d have to explain what happened, and he doesn’t want to drag her into this. She doesn’t deserve anymore hassle. So, he just grits his teeth and gets on with it, trying to ignore the tears that flow silently down his face.
He thanks whatever may be up there that when he puts a new ring on that finger, the cold of the metal soothes the pain slightly.
***
As he digs the grave, sweat beads up all over his body. It’s not even that warm, it’s just that the mix of strenuous labour and stark fear is making him sweat buckets. He can feel the cool and sticky trails of it dripping down his skin and reaching his hands.
So, it’s no surprise when, about half an hour into his task, Jon begins to feel his ring slip of his sweat slick finger. He has no way of stopping it when it finally falls, pinging of his shovel with a metallic ‘ding’, causing Daisys’ head to swing in his direction.
“What was that?” she snarls, stalking towards him.
“My- my ring, it fell off my finger.” Jon answers, pointing towards where the ring now lay upon the ground.
He watches as daisy examines the ring for a moment, wincing when she kicks it into the grave.
“What was that for?” he snaps before he can stop himself, and suddenly Daisys’ predatory gaze is upon him.
“Can’t go leaving evidence around,” she answers, and then her mouth spreads into a wolfish grin. “And anyway, that rings covered in your fingerprints. If one day someone finds this place and uncovers the bodies, it’ll all be pinned on you, and I won’t have to face any charges.”
At that she turns away, barking an order at Jon to keep digging. So, he does, mourning his loss with every hit of the shovel.
It takes a few days before he feels ready enough to slip a new ring onto his finger.
***
The circus takes everything from him. His clothes, his ring, his voice, his hope, his basic human dignity. When he finally makes his way through Helens’ corridors and back into the archive, naked and shivering, the first thing he does is collapse into a heap and cry.
That’s how Martin finds him, exposed, and curled up into a tight ball on his office floor. Martin acts quick and efficiently, finding the spare clothes that Jon keeps stashed way for his all-nighters and gently coaxing him into the break room once he’s gotten dressed. Jon is guided to the break rooms table and made to sit down while martin makes them both some tea.
With the tea made they both sit in companiable silence, nursing their respective mugs. Jon doesn’t want to talk about what happened and martin doesn’t push. He doesn’t leave either though, allowing Jon the increasingly rare luxury of friendly company.
Jon looks down at his hands as they hold the mug tightly and suddenly remembers what he’s lost. He lets out a deep sigh, causing Martin to turn his gaze from his own mug to Jon. He looks to where Jon is staring at his own hands and seems to pick up on what’s missing.
“They- they took your ring as well?” Martin asks, and Jon nods. “Do you have a replacement? It’s just, I noticed you always seem to have one on, so I assume you have spares.”
“No, that was the last one. I don’t exactly stockpile them, I never needed to before. Its only recently that I seem to keep losing them.”
Its silent for a bit before Martin pipes up again, voice soft and quiet. “I hope you don’t mind me asking but- uh… what’s the ring for? At first, I thought it might be an heirloom or something, but you’ve had to change it a few times now, so I guess its symbolic? Does it mean something to wear a black ring on the middle finger of your right hand? Don’t- ah, don’t answer if you don’t want to, or if its- if it’s too personal. I’m just… curious.”
Jon thinks about it for a moment. Even now, all these years later he’s never been that good at talking about it. It’s not that he’s ashamed or anything, he’s perfectly fine with who he is, he’s just not the type of person who enjoys giving away personal details. And anyway, this is a professional setting, he’s a boss, and bosses don’t discuss their sexualities with their co-workers.
Except that’s not really the case here, is it, because this isn’t just a co-worker, it’s Martin. Martins more than just a co-worker, Martins a friend, a good friend, a close friend. Jon has a great level of respect and trust for Martin, and that’s saying something.
So, no, Jon doesn’t think he minds sharing this part of himself with Martin, actually likes the idea of the other man knowing more about him. And it’s not as if Martins ever been that subtle about his own sexuality, what with the little pride pin on his lapel and the flag on his desk. So, Jon decides to answer his question.
“It’s- um, it’s an ace ring. I guess it’s sort of a way of showing others that your asexual, It’s not a well-known symbol though.”
“Oh,” Martin says as he seems to process what Jon’s just said. “So, you’re…”
“Asexual, yes Martin.”
“Cool.” Martin responds, and Jon is relieved to hear that there’s no confusion in his voice. There’s no mocking or disgust either, no misdirected pity or forced cheerfulness. If anything, Martin just sounds the same as he always does when Jon reveals something about himself, intrigued and vaguely curious. It’s reassuring.
“Yes, well, anyway,” Jon says as he gets up from his seat, “I probably won’t be wearing a ring anymore.”
“What, why?”
“I mean, all I seem to be doing right now is losing them, it seems a bit redundant at this point. And with everything else going on it just… doesn’t feel that important. In the grand scheme of things, I mean. No one else cares.
“I care! If it’s important to you then it’s important to me.” Martin then seems to realise what he’s said and turns a deep red. He begins to stammer through an explanation “I- I mean… you know- what I’m trying to say is…”
“It’s- it’s okay Martin.” Jon interrupts, pretty certain that his face is also heating up terribly. “Thank you for the… uh… encouragement?” Jon feels himself physically cringe. “it’s just- it’s been a while since I’ve told anyone, so the acceptance is nice.”
“Well, I’m… glad I could help?” Martin responds, and he immediately adopts the expression of someone who wants the floor to swallow them whole.
The energy in the room has grown increasingly awkward and as much as Jon would have loved to stay here in Martins’ company the other man can barely look him in the face right now so he thinks it might be his time to leave. He’s not worried though, he knows that by tomorrow things will be good between them again, maybe even better.
So, Jon makes a weak excuse about being tired, quickly cleans up his mug, and scampers out of the breakroom. Before he turns the corner though he quickly glances back to See Martin still sat there, looking intently into his teacup. The other man has a weak little smile on his face and it makes Jon feel some kind of way that he doesn’t want to examine.
He pops into Claire’s on his way back to Georgie’s to get a new ring. Unfortunately, the closest they’ve got to a black ring in his size is an odd, bedazzled band shaped like a snake. It’s rough and uncomfortable and sits too high on his finger but he buys it anyway, Martins’ words still ringing in his ears.
“I care! If it’s important to you then it’s important to me.”
***
He loses this one in a bathroom of all places, takes it off while he’s washing his hands and forgets to put it back on. He doesn’t even have the time to notice before he’s being shoved into a car by an angry hunter and driven to a shack in the middle of nowhere.
He only realises that it’s gone when Martin points it out. They’re outside Gertrudes’ storage unit, trying to load the crates of C4 as carefully as they can into the rental car. Jons’ hands keep brushing against Martins and its doing something to his insides that he doesn’t understand.
“where’s your ring?” Martin asks after about the tenth time of their knuckles bumping together.
“What do you mean, its righ- oh.” Jon says, looking at his finger to find that Martin was right.
“Do you think it could have slipped off while we were going through the boxes inside. We can always go back in and check if you want?”
“Yeah, we proba-” Jon begins to say when the Eye buts in. You left it in the bathroom of the red rock gas station, America. Jon just sighs. “No need Martin. The eyes just informed me that I left it all the way back in America. Guess it must have slipped my mind when Julia found me.”
“Do you have a spare you could use?”
“No, I’ve gone through my spares. I don’t know if there’s a point getting another if I’m honest, I’m probably just going to lose it again. Anyway,” and Jon starts making his way past Martin to another of the crates they’d got outside, “we can’t dwell, we’ve got stuff that needs doing.”
Martin looks like he’s about to counteract but appears to think better of it, going back to helping Jon with the crates instead. They do the rest of the job in silence, but their hands continue to brush against each other. Jon decides not to think about it.
When Jon gets back to his office late that evening, he finds a little black ring on his desk. It’s plain and simple, obviously just coloured metal, but something wells in his heart when he sees it. Nothing else has been left with it, no notes or indicator of who the giver is, but Jon knows anyway. And it reminds him of Georgie, the care and affection and acceptance that she showed him all those years ago.
Suddenly, all those lose feelings that Jon has been harbouring in his chest for the past few months piece themselves together into something he recognises, something he understands. Really it should be a relief, another mystery solved, but it only makes Jons’ heart ache more.
He slips the ring onto his finger with a careful reverence.
***
I guess dead men don’t need personal affects, Jon thinks to himself as the doctor sheepishly explains that she’d thrown everything he came in with.
“We just didn’t expect you to wake.” she says in leu of an apology.
And its fine really, Jon’s gotten used to losing stuff at this point, what’s another set of clothes. What’s another ring. He barely even reacts when Basira informs him that they had to sell his flat. It’s all par for the course now really.
He does think about getting a new ring, really, he does, but it just… doesn’t feel right. Ever since he woke up from his coma he’s been feeling less and less connected to his own humanity. Although hazy he can recall what he did while unconscious, how often he cycled through others fears, hardly giving them a break. And his hunger is worse now too, paper statements beginning to feel like just a light snack instead of a restorative. Even his knowing has gotten much stronger, random information popping into his head at all times.
He feels like a monster. No, he is a monster. And monsters don’t have identities. They don’t have extraneous emotions and complex personal matters. Everything they feel is led by hunger, everything they do is a way to feed. What would a monster want with a silly little indicator about something so unimportant to their nature? Its not as if his victims are going to care what he identifies as.
So, he doesn’t get a new ring, doesn’t replace any of the things he lost over his time in that coma. Those were Jonathon sims things, he is not Jonathon sims. He is the archivist, so why should he care about sentimentality and stupid little symbols.
He hadn’t anticipated just how much he would miss the ring though. Whenever things get tough, he instinctively goes to stim with it, and his spirits fall, just a little bit, every time he realises it’s not there. And its not just the practicality of it that he misses, no, its what it meant to him. How it would always remind him of his own personal journey of discovery, and those who supported him along the way.
Maybe there is still a tiny bit of Jonathon sims within him.
***
“Wait, where’s your ring?” Asks Martin as they sit curled up together on the safehouses’ sofa, hand in hand. Martin had been slowly stroking his fingers along Jons’ own but now they’ve come to a stop at Jons’ middle finger.
“My ring?”
“Yeah, you know, your ace ring. Did you lose it again? Oh no… please don’t tell me you lost it on your way to rescue me. I’d hate to be responsible for you losing something so important to you.”
“Wha- oh. No, no I haven’t been wearing that since I woke up from the coma. It got thrown out with the rest of my stuff when they started to doubt whether I’d live or not. Though to be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t get destroyed it the explosion, must have been pretty tough.”
“But that was months ago, haven’t you bought a new one since then?”
“No,” Jon says, shrugging, “didn’t see the point really. I’m always losing them, and it’s not like it means much anymore.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t mean much anymore?”
“In case you haven’t noticed martin, I’m not exactly human anymore. I survive off of people’s terror, I’m basically a monster. No one cares who a monster is, no one cares what a monster identifies as. The only thing people care about when it comes to monsters is the best way to get away from them. And anyway, the only people who cared about it had left me, so what was the point.”
Jon knows it’s a low blow, regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth, but he also understands that its true. He knew that Basira and Melanie had accepted him, he’d listened to the tape, but they’d never shown it outwardly. Georgie and Martin had, and then they both left him.
“I’m- I’m sorry Jon, really, I am. And- looking back… I know what I did was stupid. Its just at the time it felt like the only way.”
Martin squeezes Jons hand, and he squeezes back. He doesn’t want Martin to think he’s angry at him, because he’s not. He’s hurt yes, but in many ways, he understands why Martin did what he did, and he’s willing to forgive him for it. Martin continues speaking.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re a monster. Inhuman maybe, monster no. You still have a conscience, when I asked you to stop hunting you did. You found alternate ways, even though they were less… fulfilling. You understand that you have the power to hurt people for your own benefit, and you actively choose not to. You care about other people, hell, you saved me from the lonely, and from what I can tell, that’s impossible without some deep emotions. And… well… I care about you, every part of you, and I think you deserve to be proud of what makes you you.”
“Thank you, Martin.” Jon says, with a weird amount of relief in his voice. He leans his head on Martins’ shoulder and Martin rearranges them so that he can have his arm around Jon and still be able to hold his hand. “And- well, truth be told… I do miss it. It was a constant reminder of who I was, and the acceptance other people had for that. Did I ever tell you that it was Georgie who got me my first ace ring? It meant so much to me to know that she didn’t just tolerate who I was, but actively accept it.” Jon sighs, “but its too late to mourn my rings now. It’s not like they’re easy to get, especially while we’re in hiding.”
“Actually.” Martin says and he leans over the side of the sofa to where he’s put his bag next to it. He refuses to remove his arm from around Jon though, effectively dragging the smaller man down with him. Jon isn’t complaining though, he likes the contact.
Martin routes through the bag, removing items and putting them in a little pile as he scours for what he’s looking for. Eventually Jon hears Martin let out a little “aha” and finds himself being returned back to a sitting position. He looks at Martin and sees that the other man is holding a small metal tin in his hands. Martin presents it to Jon, and he takes it, opening it up immediately.
Inside he finds a collection of about a dozen black rings. They’re not all the same either, they all have varying different shapes and designs. Some are just plain black bands, a few have intricate carvings on them, one has a tiny black gemstone embellishing it while another is shaped like black angel wings.
“When you told me the significance of the ring, after the circus had taken you, you said that you dint think you were going to wear one anymore because you kept losing them. You didn’t see a point in stockpiling them if you were just going to lose them anyway. So… I started to pick them up when I could. If I ever saw one in a shop, I’d buy it, if I had saw one while browsing online and I had a bit of spare money I’d buy it. In a month or so I had a nice little collection, even got to give you one after you lost your ring in America. I just thought… well it’s important to you so-”
Martin doesn’t get to finish his sentence though as Jon suddenly flings his arms around him, the tin of rings left precariously on his lap. “Thank you,” Jon says, hands moving to cradle Martins head, so he has a better look at his face. “Thank you so much. You don’t- you don’t understand how much this means to me. I- its just- God, I love you.”
The words are out before Jon even has the time to think them through. Well, that’s not exactly true, as he’s been thinking those words constantly for the past few days that they’ve been at the safehouse. Longer than that even, they’ve been in his mind and on the tip of his tongue since before even the unknowing. He just hadn’t expected them to just spill out like that.
Martin is looking at him, cheeks bright red and mouth agape. For a second, Jon worries that his words have offended martin in some way, that maybe Martin doesn’t actually have feelings for Jon anymore. That he’s just been humouring him while they’ve been stuck in the safehouse together. That fear is quickly squashed though as Martins open mouthed expression morphs into a great toothy grin.
“I- I love you too.” Martin replies, and Jon can feel his own mouth mirror martins’ cheek splitting smile.
“Well, if that’s the case,” Jon says as he detangles his arms from martin and picks up the small tin, “would you help me choose a ring?”
Martin lets out a little huff of a laugh, “of course.”
Jon watches as martin roots through the tin and picks up one of the simple black bands. It’s made of a black stained glass with leaf patterns etched into it, casting beautiful patterns when the light hits just right. Carefully Martin takes a hold of Jons’ right hand and slips the ring onto his middle finger.
The moment the ring is properly in place Jon feels as if some part of his world has finally corrected itself. Its as if all his missing pieces have been found and put back into their rightful places, clicking together seamlessly. The foreign yet achingly familiar weight of the ring on his finger brings tears to the edges of his eyes.
“Is this alright?” Martin asks, staring intently at Jon.
“Yes,” Jon replies, throat vaguely choked up, “it’s perfect.”