Chapter Text
It was always cold in the Archives, the concrete floors and thin walls never seeming to really hold in heat. That compounded with the fact that it seemed to rarely be sunny in London so the building didn’t even get the benefit of being warmed by that. So it was just a fact that the Archives were always cold, it was something that Jon had come to accept not long after he had started. That didn’t mean that Jon felt it any less.
He sat at his desk, a nice dark oak wooden thing with wear from years of use, and stared blankly at the pages spread across its surface. There were statements he had already read, and he found quite quickly that rereading them would provide him nothing. His arms were wrapped around his torso, slumped over as he shivered slightly at the aching cold that permeated the air. He couldn’t leave the room, Basira had locked it behind her when she had last come in. He couldn’t call anyone, besides having never replaced his phone after the Unknowing, who would he call? Through his own choices he had lost everyone he had once cared for.
How could anyone love a monster anyway? Jon let out an almost hysterical laugh at that as he curled further into himself. He never wanted this, he never wanted to hurt anyone but here they were. He had hurt so many people, and still hurt them. There seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it, even though he tried so hard.
The man let out a slight huff, wincing when he realized that it came out in a cloud. Of course it would, he was isolated from everyone already. A burden to those around him since he had woken up, or maybe even before that. Always around when he wasn’t wanted, always snapping and angry. Why would anyone want to be around him? Maybe he could do something good for once?
Basira and Daisy stood outside the door to Jon’s office, Daisy leveling an unimpressed glare at the woman. She wouldn’t budge on what she thought she needed to do, it was one of the things Daisy liked about her. In this case, she was actively hurting someone else. She knew that Jon wouldn’t say anything, the man believed he deserved it and accepted the treatment.
With a shake of her head, Daisy unlocked the door and walked in before freezing in the doorway. Fog spilled out of the room, curling around their feet as it revealed the empty room.
“Where did he go?!” Basira was quick to turn, starting to look around the office for any way the man could have escaped. Daisy shook her head, eyes locked on the desk where Jon typically sat. The usual mess had been cleared, the papers no longer haphazardly thrown across the surface. In the center of the desk was a single sheet of paper with something hurriedly scrawled on it.
Daisy stepped into the room, catching Basira’s attention as she did. She stopped at the desk and turned the paper around, her eyes scanning over the message written on it before handing it to Basira.
“He’s in the Lonely.” She muttered, noting how much colder the room had become since Jon had been confined to it. “He thought this was the only thing he could do at this point.” Basira stared at the paper in her hand, seemingly not knowing what to say about it. This was the better option, wasn’t it? He was a monster now, one that had sought out people to hurt. This was just one less thing to hurt people, but then there was a feeling of guilt about it.
Martin let out an annoyed sigh as someone knocked at the door of his office. It was out of the way from everyone, something he knew Peter had done intentionally. He pushed away from the desk before making the short walk over to the door. He pulled it open to see Daisy standing on the other side, looking more rundown than he recalled seeing her previously.
“Yes?” He asked, hoping to get the interaction finished quickly. It wouldn’t do for Peter to think he was socializing with anyone anymore.
“Jon’s gone. Here.” Daisy held out a paper that seemed a tad more wrinkled from being handled. Martin blinked at her, face devoid of emotion except for his eyes. He grabbed the paper, holding it so he could read the words scrawled over it. An apology, that was all that Jon had left. A fucking apology for coming back wrong. He let himself be taken by the Lonely, thinking it was best for everyone around him.
“Why?” Martin was confused, how had things gotten so bad? Wasn’t there the others in the Archives?
“Since his feeding he’s been kept in his office. They didn’t want him getting to anyone else.” Daisy clenched her fists, she should have stepped in. They had gotten closer since coming out of the coffin, she had seen what was happening but didn’t do anything about it.
“What?” That caused a fog to start swirling around Martin’s feet as he stared at the woman. He had given them the tape from one of his victims.
It was cold, which wasn’t anything Jon hadn’t come to expect. Everything was uncomfortable, why would this be any different? The ocean lapped at the shore, not a sound coming from it. It was strange for a beach to be so silent, to be so devoid of really anything. He couldn’t even really notice the smell of salt water. All that was around him was the fog and sand. The sand clung to him readily, already having managed to get stuck to his arms under the stolen jumper he wore.
Maybe he should have left that, although he doubted that Martin would want it back after he had been wearing it. The man had already made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him anyway. Still, it was wrong to have stolen it, even if he wasn’t going to want it back. Jon rested his chin on his knees, his arms around his legs. Everything ached and his mind felt as though it had been stuffed with wool. He wanted to go home but a small voice asked him what home?
The home that his grandmother had owned that he sold upon her passing? The flat that he had lost when he had been framed for murder? Georgie’s flat, when she clearly thought he chose wrong when he woke up? The Archives, where he could hear the conversation of others but knew he couldn’t join in? Where anyone that may have cared about him had been chased away by his choices?
No, better to stay on the beach. Even if it was uncomfortable, it was what he deserved. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, and there wasn’t even anyone who would care that he was gone. Jon nodded his head and weakly let his head settle back against his knees to watch the push and pull of the ocean.
Jon was aware of muffled sounds, which confused him a bit. Things had been silent, he wasn’t sure for how long. But there wasn’t any sound around him, it had initially been disorienting to him before he accepted it. But now it wasn’t, there was something making sounds that he couldn’t make out. Maybe if he opened his eyes he would be able to figure out what was going on. Jon wanted to, a vague curiosity prodding at him to figure it out, but the fatigue that had settled over him pushed him to keep resting.
Then he felt something on his shoulder, it caused a shudder to go through his body because it was so warm. It was almost too warm, causing him to let out a small whine, not having energy to do much else.
“Jon, please.” The words startled him, it still didn’t sound entirely right but he could finally understand what the sound was. The warmth on his shoulder moved away, the residual feeling quickly evaporating from him before suddenly there was a weight over him, then a bit more. “Come on Jon.” The voice almost sounded pleading, but why would they? He was where he was supposed to be. When Jon finally managed to pull his eyes open he had to blink a few times to clear his vision before the sight of Martin next to him settled.
Martin was kneeling next to the cot that was left in Jon’s office. His face was twisted into a worried grimace before he realized that Jon had woken. Relief seemed to flood him before he spoke.
“Oh Jon.”