Work Text:
Tim's angry. He always is nowadays.
When he left that doorway and saw what happened he was angry.
Jon was gone, he was watching as they still scrubbed the blood from the floor. He tightened his fists at the sight. He was going to kill someone, and he hoped it would be Elias, Maybe Jon too.
He tried to stay calm for Martin, but When Melanie joined he almost punched the wall. Just hearing Elias announce she worked there was enough to make his blood boil, and it wasn't even in person. Just a corporate bullshit email about 'Welcoming the new team member '
Skipping out on work was his solution. He stopped coming in and stopped caring about Elias. He couldn't get fired so why bother trying. Martin and Melanie had this.
He stared down a punching bag, he'd taken to using the free gym his flat offered. Learning patterns of other residents so he always had the place to himself.
He saw the punching bag stare back at him, so he swung. He'd taped a crude drawing of an eye on the bag, for motivation.
First swing, that's for Sasha.
Second swing, that's for Danny.
Third swing, that's for Gertrude.
His eyes were getting blurry, and his blood ran hot. A fire was burning inside him.
Fourth swing, that's for Martin.
Fifth swing, that's for Melanie.
Sixth swing, that's for himself.
He fell to his knees and let some tears flow from his eyes. His face was still burning red. The tears burned when they fell from his dry eyes. He wanted to scream, he wanted to throw more punches, but he was scared.
As the tears got heavier he heard his father's voice in his head.
'Turn your fear into a weapon son. Men don't cry'
His father was a strong believer in boys staying strong. He'd protected Danny as best he could, he just hoped he knew that.
He stopped crying and stood up. Staring down that eye that was still hanging on, a new rage made his eyes go red. One last punch, one last swing.
Final swing, fuck you Elias.
He wiped his eyes and stared at the torn paper on the floor. He grabbed it and squeezed it into a ball. He kept it in his fist as he headed back to his flat. When he passed the garbage bin near the exit he threw it in with all his strength.
Fuck you Jon.
His tears dried as he continued up the stairs. That night his fear of his monster of a boss settled into a deep seeded rage.
He was content with that anger, letting it simmer until he had an excuse to blow up the archives with that bastard inside it.
Well until Martin pulled him from his desk into Elias office. His ears were ringing as they moved, the only words he heard were
"Jon-" and "Elias". Those were enough to make him see red as he walked to Elias' office.
He stood in the corner as Elias said his stupid monologue. He was halfway listening only because Jon promised something about Elias' crimes.
He was staring at the man's dark gray hair and stupid dangling gold jewelry. He was seething, wishing he could punch that smug smile off his face.
When he heard Sasha was actually gone? Blood ran to his ears and he took a step forward, but he felt Martin grab his wrist.
He looked at Martin but his eyes were still trained on Elias. Tim's attention returned to his surroundings, hyperfocused on what Elias pushed across the desk.
He watched desperately as Basira signed the paperwork. The only thing keeping him from ripping that paper from under her pen was Martin's hand on his wrist.
He left that room as hot as he's ever been. He watched as Martin deflated when he entered the breakroom. His eyes were red with tears, but Tim's face was like stone. He tried to settle his anger but his body was burning up. He removed his sweater and held it in his hands.
"I need some air" He said to a silent Martin and exited the institute. He stood outside the door letting the cold air chill him to his core.
He was staring at the trees bending in the wind and the sun getting covered by dark clouds. The door beside him opened and Jon stepped out, he glanced over at him.
"Hey boss." Tim said in his best fake friendly voice, his anger boiled up into his chest.
"Hello Tim." Jon responded, turning his back on him.
The heat was now in his throat. His hands tightened into fists.
"Where have you been?!" He yelled at the man's back. Jon stopped and turned around.
"A Friends." He said in a defeated tone. Jon turned around again, and continued to walk away.
"You don't have friends!" Tim shouted back at the man's shrinking figure. Tim closed his eyes and scrunched the sweater in his fists, he threw it to the ground. God damn it.
When Jon was unreachable for a month he ignored the burning feeling in his chest. The emails had stopped, and research came to a stand still.
Martin noticed first, he was scared for Jon. Tim calmed him down, made sure he knew he'd come back. Even if Tim had that same sinking feeling in his core, he had to stay positive for Martin.
Jon reappeared one day, he wanted to punch him in the face. For one being an asshole, two for disappearing, and three for worrying Martin half to death.
He stayed strong. He worked his magic during research. The pit only grew when he realized the desk next to his was now Melanie's instead of Sasha's.
He'd thrown all the pictures of her out, and broke the mug she used. It wasn't her, the girl in those photos. The girl in his memories was a lie, the woman he loved was gone.
When he made his statement about Danny the pit in his stomach consumed him. He left early that day, as if anyone but Martin cared.
He'd gone home that day and pulled a box of photos from under his bed. He sat on the floor with tears blurring his vision as he searched for every memory he had with his brother.
He found a photo of Danny standing proudly under his first billboard. Tim smiled as his eyes scanned over his brother's face. He put it aside and kept searching.
He found another photo of Danny. It was the two of them standing side by side with huge smiles, feet buried in the sand. A family beach trip.
His tears threatened to fall but he wiped them away quickly. The fear of ruining the happy memories with his brother. He put it with the others as he dug back into the box.
He pulled out an old polaroid, it was face down with words written on the back.
'Christmas 2014'
He remembers that Christmas. Danny had gifted him an old camera with film for it. He also remembers that it was the Christmas he invited Sasha over for his family's party because her parents weren't free. He braced himself as he flipped it over.
He saw himself standing in the middle with his arms over two people's shoulders. Danny was on his right with a wide smile. A stranger was on his left, with a smile just as wide as Danny's.
He stared at her dark hair that was pushed forward by Tim's arm. Her eyes were shining with joy, she wore an ugly sweater that matched the other two boys, and dark jeans. He didn't recognize her, he was going to just put it back until he saw the bracelet she was wearing. It was Sasha's.
He remembered she never took it off, never got a reason from her, never will.
When they all came back after the attack it wasn't on her wrist, when questioned she explained it away by saying she lost it during the attacks.
He believed her and searched every inch of the archives. His search came up empty so he forgot about the silver chain that used to tap ever so slightly on her desk as she typed.
This girl was Sasha, the real Sasha.
He stared harder, memorizing every detail that came through on the old photo. He traced his fingers over her dark skin, and stopped when he came to where his arm was slung over her shoulder.
He missed everyone in that picture. He missed Danny, he missed the real Sasha, but also he missed his old self. He cradled the photo to his chest and let himself cry, still seeing Sasha's smile behind his eyelids.
The next day that photo was framed and sitting on his desk.
When Jon returned from wherever he was, he tried his best to ignore him. His anger wasn't gone, just buried. The longer he spent talking with Jon made it rise like bile in his throat.
He left the institute with his hands balled into fists. When he got home he threw his bag into the corner of the gym and he headed to the punching bag.
He swung until his fists ached, and his heart was burning, turning his skin to ash. He sat down to wrap his fists with the wrappings he kept in his work bag, for days like this.
He heard footsteps come closer, he assumed that it was another resident. He kept wrapping until the footsteps stopped next to him and he saw creased brown leather shoes on the mat.
He looked up and his head went fuzzy. Jon was standing there staring at him. His eyes were unfocused almost like Jon was seeing him from a different angle. He forgot both of his bosses could just see shit.
"What do you want, boss?" Tim mocked and stood up, tucking the end of the bandage into itself.
"I'm here to apologize." Jon said, eyes coming to focus just long enough for him to look down at his feet.
"Oh?" Tim crossed his arms and kept his burning gaze on Jon's head.
"I apologize for being an arse."
"And?" Tim's arms were still crossed, anger seeping out of his voice.
"And for disappearing, and for lying to you." Jon finished and looked up at the eyes that were glowing with hellfire behind them.
"You were an arse Jon. You hurt me, but especially Martin. He nearly went mad when you were gone, and I lost everything I liked about myself." Tim spoked with a harsh tone. He twitched his fingers, threatening to make them fists.
"I'm sorry." Jon whispered.
"You should be." Tim responded before taking a swing at the punching bag. Jon flinched at the movement and backed up.
Jon watched as Tim took another swing, fist connecting with the bag. Jon could feel the connection as if it was his face that got hit.
"You can come with us. To the Unknowing." Jon said as a final remark before turning around.
"Good"
swing
"Was going to go anyway."
swing
"Goodbye Tim. " Jon said to the wall before leaving the room.
"Goodbye" Tim whispered before taking another swing. His dreams that night were of fire, the same fire that fueled him. The same fire that consumed his heart.
A few days later, people made their final statements. He made his, knowing it was going to be the last time he ever spoke into that stupid recorder.
He walked out, and grabbed the framed photo sitting on his desk. He smiled as he took one last look at Danny and Sasha's real face. He nodded and flattened his face, he hugged it once before walking to Martin's desk. He placed it face down in the center as a tear fell from his burning eyes.
That night Tim held onto the detonator, staring at the shifting faces around him.
The fire he felt in his heart consumed every thought, his mind was filled with vision of fire and the building collapsing.
He looked around one last time, thumb hovering over the button that would doom him to death. With one final glance at who he assumed was Jon he smiled and pressed the button.