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It had taken a week for Elodie to convince Jon to let her take care of him. He had always been stubborn to Elodie’s attempts, but she wasn’t going to bug off easily this time. Jon had lost his damned ribs and had spent far too much time in a literal coffin. She was glad he rescued Daisy. She would be even more glad if he would let himself rest afterwards!
Jon couldn’t get rid of the feeling of dirt in his skin since he and Daisy got out of the coffin. He took burning hot showers and scrubbed his skin till it was raw, but it didn’t help. He felt the itch of granular materials in his hands, his scalp, his ears, the corners of his eyes. Everyday Elodie offered to help, to give him a place to have a meal and some rest, but Jon swore he would be fine. Of course he would be fine, he just had to stop feeling dirty.
It didn’t help that Basira kept looking at him with some mixture of frustration and relief. And Daisy didn’t seem to be much better off than he was. Sometimes he’d see her scratching at her skin or picking at the dirt under her nails, just like he was. He could feel their eyes on him; Elodie and Basira and Daisy. It brought its own itch, one that combined with the feeling of filth on his body made Jon want to peel his skin off.
He tried to handle it for a week before he gave in to Elodie’s plea. She had visibly sagged in relief when he gave her the okay.
“I don’t care that you’ve been touched by some fear god,” Elodie had said as she bustled Jon into her car. “You’re still human and you need to rest and get a bath and some food.”
As he sat in the passenger seat of Elodie’s vehicle, Jon began to register every ache in his body, the hunger curled in his stomach. And the tiredness - god, Jon was so tired. He was filthy and tired and aching and so thankful for Elodie.
“Jon,” Elodie had said, looking at him from the driver’s seat. “You don’t have to handle this alone. I’ve got you, okay?”
Before he knew it, he was walking into Elodie’s flat with her. She set her keys down, flicking on light switches and slipping out of her shoes. Jon did the same, sheepishly following a safe distance behind her.
“Right. So,” Elodie began. “Let’s run you a bath, yeah? Then we can figure out what to do for dinner.”
“Sure, of course,” Jon said timidly. He followed her to the bathroom, watching as she knelt by the spacious tub and started filling it with water and scented bubbles. Elodie rose, going over to a cupboard against the wall.
“You can go ahead and get in, test the water,” Elodie started carding through towels, looking for the right one.
“Oh, uh-” Jon’s hand rested on the button of his shirt. “Now?”
Elodie whipped around, clutching a plush blue towel to her chest. “No! Not if you’re uncomfortable, I mean. I don’t mind nudity, but I won’t look or I could just leave. That’s totally okay too!”
Seeing how urgent she was to make him comfortable sent a warm buzz through Jon. And strangely enough, this situation didn’t feel as weird as Jon feared it might’ve. Elodie was the closest thing Jon had to a friend, especially since he woke up from the coma to a bunch of hostile faces. Besides, Elodie had been through hell and back with him and the archival assistants. There was… there was comfort here.
“That’s alright,” Jon said pleasantly. “Just… turn around, please.”
Elodie immediately listened, busying herself with the cupboard. Jon quickly stripped and stepped into the tub, hissing under his breath at the heat of the water. The bubbles easily went up to his shoulders, almost completely covering him up.
Jon couldn’t remember the last time he had a bubble bath. Maybe when he was a child? It had been so long since he’d taken proper care like this.
“You’re clear to turn around,” Jon said. Elodie turned, the previous fluster gone from her face.
“Good! Here’s your towel,” Elodie set it next to him. She pointed out the shampoo, conditioner and body wash, along with a short tutorial of the faucet. “Right. I’ll let you be, then. I’ll leave a change of clothes by the door for you.”
Elodie turned to leave when she felt Jon’s thin fingers gently wrap around her wrist. Seeing her back turn, the thought of being alone with the filth and the quiet - it had filled Jon with a momentary terror. It was followed by a realization that sank deep into Jon’s stomach.
He was scared to be alone. He didn’t want to be alone right now.
“Will you stay?” Quiet. Strained. With all the power he held in words, Jon was so scared to say the wrong thing. His grip loosened as Elodie turned back to him.
“If you want me too, then I will,” Elodie said gently, bending into a crouch by the tub to look Jon in the eye.
“It would just- It would be more efficient to join me. To save water and all. Besides, you’ve also been stuck in the archives, it can get dirty in there and you must be tired,” Jon supplied, the warmth of Elodie’s stare making him look away. She smiled, just a little, and squeezed his hand in hers before she pulled her arm away completely.
Elodie nodded and rose to her feet. “Of course I will.”
Jon looked away as Elodie began to strip off her clothes. There were nerves in her stomach, but she moved confidently. He could see her shift in his peripherals, just barely, but blinked his gaze away when he registered bare skin. There was the sound of clothes hitting the floor, then what Jon assumed was Elodie tying up her many braids so they didn’t get wet. He heard her put one leg into the water, then the other, then a low hiss in her throat as she sank into the bubbles.
“Fuck, I made that quite hot, didn’t I?” Elodie cursed. “Is it okay for you?”
“It’s alright,” Jon said reassuringly. Elodie sank deeper, suds covering more of the plane of her chest and collarbones. She sighed contentedly, making Jon smile a little. The bubbles were lavender scented. Jon felt out of his depth.
Elodie tipped her head back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes. It was so easy for her to relax. Jon envied her. Her shoulders were littered with scars, Jon had noticed them as she loosened her arms. Elodie had always had a scar across her left cheek, but she had never really talked about where she got it. He wondered if she was as guarded about the other scars too. But it was a comforting thought that she was just as scarred as he was.
She looked back over at him, and Jon was taken aback by the gentleness in her eyes. “Can I wash your hair for you?”
“What? Oh,” Jon said. “Of course, yes.”
“Good,” Elodie moved towards him, grabbing a cup and the bottle of shampoo. “Turn and close your eyes when I tell you to.”
Jon moved agreeably, listening to the water swish as Elodie neared him. Then, he felt the rush of warm water on his scalp, followed by Elodie’s hands carding through the strands. The black and gray melted between her fingers, dirt and knots being worked out by her thorough touch. Elodie was the type of woman to always have her nails done up in some manner. They were grown out a little and painted blue today. She scratched at the roots of his hair with them and Jon felt the tension run out with the water, his head preening back into her touch.
“Almost done,” Elodie cooed softly, rinsing the shampoo out.
Hugging his knees to his chest, Jon felt small. To be fair, he was small. He was average height at best, and his adventures with the eldritch had left him lean and frail. But he felt almost like a child again, with Elodie’s warm presence and grounding touch. It was hard for Jon to remember a time when Elodie hadn’t been a maternal presence in the archives. She had transferred over shortly after the rest of Jon’s team had, and despite her only role being their IT person, she took care of everything and everyone.
Elodie had made it her personal mission to make sure Martin was safe and comfortable when he stayed in the archives. After Not-Sasha was trapped in the tunnels, Elodie mourned Sasha so deeply, Jon was unsure if she had ever stopped. Despite his protests, Elodie had nursed Jon’s wounds after his encounter with Daisy. And Elodie did her best to stay involved with Tim, refusing to let him suffer alone. Jon knew that Elodie and Tim bonded more than the rest of them did with Tim. Especially after Sasha. Elodie’s caretaker shell cracked for the first time when the news of Tim’s death got back to her. Jon hadn’t seen it, obviously; he was in a coma at the time. But once he woke up, he heard whispers from employees in other sections who remembered when they could hear Elodie cry from far down the hall.
Whatever came next, Jon wished to protect Elodie from it. She had done so much for him and the others, she deserved it. But here they were again, Elodie taking care of him.
While letting the conditioner sit, Elodie’s hands moved down to gently massage his neck and shoulders, careful of residual scars and bruises. Jon’s shoulders relaxed as she touched them.
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” Jon said softly. When he created the plan to go into the coffin, he told Elodie as little as possible. Which meant when he resurfaced, she was more frantic and worried than he’d ever seen her. He felt guilty for being yet another stressor in her life.
Elodie paused for a moment. Her hands came to a halt. “Are you talking about the coffin, Jon?”
“Yes.”
“I forgive you.”
That was… quick. And easy. It felt too easy.
“I… I’m sorry, you forgive me?” Jon stammered incredulously.
“Yes. I forgive you,” Elodie’s hands moved again, scooping warm water in a bowl and beginning to rinse him. “I was scared out of my mind when I realized what you’d done. But I understand why you did it. You have a good heart, Jon, and you wanted to save Daisy, even at the cost of your own wellbeing. I understand that.”
The words swam through Jon. They were warm and comforting, yes, but they felt wrong. They didn’t feel like him. The idea of him having a “good heart” didn’t seem quite right. He felt quite… monstrous, for the lack of a better word, these days. Elodie calling him good didn’t feel like something he deserved.
“Your hair’s done,” Elodie said. She smoothed it out of his face and sat back in the tub. “You can turn around now.”
Gradually, Jon shifted, careful not to spill any bubbly water over the edge. He pulled his legs back up to his chest when he settled back down to face Elodie. She wordlessly grabbed a washcloth, lathered it up with soap, and extended a hand towards Jon.
He stared at it. She made a grabby hand in his direction. He furrowed his brow.
Elodie sighed fondly. “Your hand, Jon. Give me your hand.”
“Oh! Right. My bad,” Jon said, putting his hand over hers. She smiled. Elodie held his hand tenderly as she began to work the soapy cloth along each finger, gently working the dirt out of every crease of skin and under his fingernails.
Jon just… watched. Elodie was so careful. She never scrubbed any harder than she had too, and took special care around his scars. There were flakes of mascara littering Elodie’s under eyes, but the brown of her gaze was so soft. Jon couldn’t remember the last time had touched him so gently. Frankly, he couldn’t really remember the last time someone had touched him for any reason other than wanting to kill him.
“What’re you thinking about?” Elodie asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Ah, nothing,” Jon sighed. Elodie stopped washing him, looking up to meet his gaze, one thick brow hiked.
“Bullshit,” She said with no trace of venom in her tone. “Talk to me. I’m your friend, aren’t I? You can talk to me.”
“Right,” Jon swallowed hard. This was his… friend. They had been through a lot together. If he had questions, she would answer them. “Are you not… frightened? Uncomfortable? Or uneasy?”
“Frightened of what? You?” Elodie asked.
Jon nodded. “Yes.”
Elodie was silent for a long moment, tonguing her bottom lip for a moment. She rinsed his hand and wrist and released it, beckoning for the other one. He gave it to her.
“No, Jon,” Elodie said finally. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Why not?” Jon prodded quietly.
“Well, firstly, I have known you a while now and I trust you,” Elodie began. “And secondly, I may not have experienced being touched by a cosmic horror, but… I am very experienced in being ostracized and distrusted and belittled for something about myself that I could not control.”
Jon blinked slowly, taking in the statement and letting Elodie continue.
“I absolutely do not claim to know exactly what you’re going through, Jon, and there’s a lot of nuances to your situation that I don’t quite understand,” Elodie said, working the washcloth up Jon’s wrist. “But it has taken a long time for me to learn that just because someone says you’re a monster doesn’t mean you actually are.”
Jon watched the space between Elodie’s brows wrinkle, her lips puckering slightly. The expression on her face was familiar. There was only so much holding in someone could do before it begins to carve the wrinkles and worry lines in your skin.
“You have been through so much more than you let on, haven’t you, Elodie?” Jon asked softly.
She nodded. Jon watched her inhale slowly, then exhale, regaining some of her serene expression. Elodie smiled, just slightly and without much happiness, rinsing down Jon’s hand. “Growing up in a tiny, close-minded and angry small town when you’re like me is… hard. Very, very hard.”
There was no need to use his power to learn more. Jon certainly understood.
Elodie sighed, putting the washcloth on the side of the tub. She reached back for one of Jon’s hands, and he gave it to her. Her eyes were trained on where their hands met. Jon could recognize the heavy feeling within them.
“And while we’re talking about our feelings and everything, I wanted to mention this,” Elodie continued. Her thumb made soft, soft circles on Jon’s hand. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, delicate, fragile. “I don’t think you’re dirty. I don’t think you’re a monster. You are not what has happened to you. And I am not afraid to touch you.”
Jon had a feeling she meant these words for herself just as much as it was meant for him. Still, he felt a gentle wave of reassurance breach his body.
“You and I, people like us…” Elodie squeezed his hand. “We will be okay.”
Jon returned the squeeze. “How do you know?”
“I don’t,” Elodie answered simply. “But I refuse to be swallowed by the idea that I won’t. I’m not going to live my life waiting to die, especially not now.”
Jon found himself smiling, just slightly. “You are incredibly brave, Elodie.”
And Elodie found herself returning it. “So are you, Jon.”
A content silence fell between them. Elodie turned the faucet to add more water to the cooling tub. Jon beckoned her hands to him, then spent the next few quiet minutes washing up her arms like she did to him. He had his focused face on; one Elodie had become very used to over the years. He dragged the washcloth with calculated gentleness across her freckled fingers, being even more cautious around her manicured nails.
“Thank you for letting me help you,” Elodie finally said, breaking the sweet silence. “And thank you for being my friend.”
“Thank you for trusting me with what you’ve told me today,” Jon replied warmly. “I’ve come to realize that you are quite a good friend to have.”
Elodie grinned as he released her hands. “Oh, you flatter me, Archivist.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Miss Dixon,” Jon smiled teasingly back at her, earning himself a splash of soapy water narrowly missing his eyes. “Alright. Rude.”
“It was a mistake! Honest,” Elodie lied playfully, both of them knowing full well it was on purpose. She gestured to Jon’s towel. “Whenever you’re ready, let’s get something to eat.”
Jon nodded. It was quite a warm feeling, having a friend. Knowing that he would protect her, and she would protect him. Elodie was a welcome comfort before the oncoming storm. And Jon refused to be swallowed by the idea that they might not make it out the other side of the clouds.