Chapter Text
Now that Prentiss was dead, Martin wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.
Right after he’d stumbled out of the tunnels, there had been enough going on that he hadn’t really had any time to even think about things. First there was a check from the ECDC, to confirm that none of the worms had managed to hitch a ride on him during his escape from the Institute. They did actually find two; but neither had gotten past his clothing, and both were dead. He’d then been passed off to the paramedics, who told him he was in mild shock, but unlike Jon and Tim (both of whom should live, but would have permanent scarring at the very minimum), informed him that he was in good enough condition to go home
With that, Martin was released back to just outside the Institute.
The problem was that he didn’t really have a home anymore. He hadn’t had anything on him when he’d fled his flat, and he hadn’t gone back since those horrible two weeks. Thus, he hadn’t paid his rent in well over four months at this point. And even if he had… whether or not Prentiss was dead, he couldn’t suppress a shudder at even the thought of going back to that horrid place.
But he also couldn’t go back to his cot in the Archives. It had been a marginally better place to stay than his flat had been, sure, but the entire basement and beyond was now flooded with worms. Dead worms, but still. And besides, there was no chance the police would let him into an active crime scene no matter what his reasoning was.
Salvation came in the form of Sasha.
“You can stay with me,” she declared the instant she found him and figured out what he was agonizing over. “I don’t have an extra bed, but I do have a couch, and you can stay as long as you need.”
“Sasha…” Martin exhaled slightly. They were sitting side by side on the edge of the sidewalk, ignoring the curious passers-by and the ECDC still scouring the building. “I can’t make you-”
“You’re not making me do anything,” Sasha cut in. She sighed, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Martin, we’re friends . It’s not as if I’m offering you some amazing solution, anyway. It’s just a couch.”
“Still.” Martin fidgeted slightly with the edge of his sleeve. “I know how small your flat is. I don’t want to intrude.”
Sasha tilted her head to the side. “Wouldn’t you do the same for me if our situations were swapped?” She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
“Well…” Martin smiled a little. “Alright.”
The weirdest thing about living with Sasha was that he could just… leave, now. Sasha was there, so it wasn’t even nearly as lonely as his own flat had been; and the windows made much less claustrophobic than the Institute basement had been too. But when that nagging feeling of being trapped started coming up, he could simply… step out of the flat and take a walk. By himself. Without having to worry that he would yet again be chased and trapped by that awful hivemind of worms that had ruined the last five months of his life.
Martin started taking a lot of walks. Way more than was normal, but, well, there was just such a rush of freedom that he felt every time he stepped out on his own now.
Prentiss was dead. He was done being trapped.
And after that, things started to settle. Martin started looking into available flats. The Archives were reportedly completely free of worms, and Jon and Tim were cleared to return to work. They were all given several day’s extra paid vacation, though, as an apology from Elias for not taking their situation seriously enough.
So when Martin returned to the The Magnus Institute, he felt better than he had in months. Well, obviously . But still, stepping into the Archives felt surprisingly easy, considering how much trauma they’d all endured within these walls.
“Sasha! Martin!” Tim called cheerfully from his desk as they walked into the bullpen. He was still practically covered in bandages, but gave them the same old cheeky grin and finger guns as always. “How are my favourite coworkers doing?”
“We should be asking you that,” Sasha said, crossing the room to get a better look at him. “You’re still recovering from literally being eaten by worms.”
“Eh, I’m fine,” Tim promised. “I have two roommates that I’ve been forcing to take care of me, remember? Besides, it’s only been a few days.”
“Still.” She looked critically at his bandages, before her eyes softened. “Well. I’m glad you’re doing okay. Is Jon here?”
“Isn’t he always?” Tim said with a roll of his eyes, although he was still smiling. “He was already in his office when I got here.”
“Of course he was,” Sasha sighed. “Well, I’ll go check on him too. Martin?”
“O-oh! Yeah, I’ll come too,” he said, glad she’d offered. Even though he and Jon had… bonded? during the siege, it had been a few days now, so he wasn’t confident that things had actually changed between them. For all he knew, Jon was back to thinking of him as a useless hanger-on. He didn’t think he would, but, well…
Jon had told them long ago not to bother knocking (which Martin had always thought was rather out-of-character for him, but he assumed Jon had a reason), so Sasha simply opened up the door and poked her head in. “Hey, Jon?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, come in, Sasha,” Jon’s voice came through the door. Sasha smiled at Martin, and opened the door fully so that they could both step in. Jon’s eyebrows, now that Martin could see them, were raised. “Ah, and Martin.”
“So, how are you doing?” Sasha asked, leaning in to look at his bandages as well.
Jon frowned slightly at her, although at least he didn't try to push her away. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re covered in bandages,” Martin pointed out from his spot in the doorway.
Jon shrugged. “It’s hardly the worst Prentiss has done,” he said, looking pointedly at Martin. “I was more worried about you, honestly. I... do apologize, I wasn’t sure how to contact you. I hope you’ve been able to find a place to stay while the Institute was closed?”
“Oh! Yeah,” Martin said, and smiled slightly as Sasha stepped back to stand beside him. “I’ve been staying with Sasha, actually.”
“Ah.” Jon nodded. “Good.” He glanced at the clock and then winced slightly. “I really should be getting back to work,” he said, despite the fact that it was barely past the start of the workday (and Martin would bet real money that Jon had showed up well before the official start anyway). “If you would?”
“Sure, Jon,” Sasha said, although there was a hint of humour in her voice. “Come on, Martin, let’s leave the workaholic to his recording.”
Contrary to Sasha’s words, in the end, none of them actually ended up doing any research or recording of any sort that morning. The ECDC had removed a fair number of their file boxes for being, quote, “completely saturated with dead worm juice”, and thus all of them spent most of the day trying to figure out what statements had gone missing and which ones had been left behind. The loss actually ended up being less than expected, as most of the file boxes had saved the files themselves from getting destroyed; but that meant that they now had piles of loose papers stacked everywhere, with no labels in sight.
When lunch came, Tim announced that he was tired (which was completely understandable, even if Sasha had strong-armed him into sticking to his desk and simply writing out file numbers for them), that he was going out for lunch, and that they should all come along.
Jon, of course, declined, mumbling something about work and retreating back into his office. Sasha said yes.
Martin… wanted to say yes. But realistically, Sasha had been forced to spend the last few days in close proximity to him, and she and Tim had always been the two closest in the office anyway. He didn’t want to get in the way of the first time they’d get a proper talk alone since the Prentiss incident, so he declined.
“Alright, but you’re coming tomorrow, right, Marto?” Tim said, although it was clear it wasn’t really a question. “We still have to celebrate your freedom!”
Martin smiled at that and agreed.
He was feeling peckish, though, so after labelling the latest stack of papers, he stretched and decided to get his own lunch. Maybe he’d go eat at a nearby park too, just to relish in the fact that he could . Thus, he heated up the leftovers he’d brought (cooked in Sasha’s kitchen; he’d wanted to make up for freeloading as much as he possibly could) and stashed them in his bag, ready to head out.
He was about to start up the staircase out of the Archives when a voice sounded from behind him. “Ah, Martin.”
Martin turned around. It was Jon, his head poking out of his office. “Yes, Jon?”
“Do you have a few minutes?”
“Oh, uh, sure!” Martin said. He still had the satchel with his lunch slung over his shoulder, but other than that, he should be fine; he would have been willing to help Jon anyway, but the fact that he was currently covered in bandages made him even more willing. “What is it?”
“It’s Research,” Jon grumbled, stepping fully out into the hallway. “They just called and asked us to take some of the statements they’re done with down to the Archives.”
“Oh, alright,” Martin agreed; this was a common enough occurrence, although usually Research brought the boxes down to them, rather than getting the Archives crew to meet them up on their floor. Likely they just didn’t want to be around the recently de-wormed basement, which Martin couldn't really blame them for. “Shall we?”
Jon nodded, closing his door behind him, and joined Martin at the doors to the lift. Most of the time nobody in their team ever bothered to take the lift, considering it was overkill when the main floor was only one set of stairs up. Research was on the top floor, though, and Jon was injured, so for once it was worth the wait.
Luckily, it took less than a minute, so the silence didn’t get too awkward. The ride up, on the other hand, was slightly worse, but again, not that bad; Martin simply acted as if he was very fascinated by the lift buttons and the way the overhead light flickered when they reached the right floor, and peripherally, he was pretty sure Jon was doing the same.
“Ah, Jon,” David greeted the second they stepped out into research. He looked Jon up and down, his eyebrows raising as he took in the full extent of the bandages. “Those worms really did a number on you, huh!”
“Yes, thank you, David,” Jon said through barely-not-gritted teeth.
“You have a box for us?” Martin cut in, rather wanting to avoid a full argument between Jon and his old boss (he’d heard more than one story from Tim and Sasha about how annoying the man was).
“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course,” David said, although he was still staring at Jon. His eyes flickered over to Martin after a few more moments. “I’m guessing you’re the one who’ll be carrying it down then, huh. Here, come with me, it’s just on Priya’s desk over here.”
Martin picked up the box. It was, indeed, just a little bit too heavy for Jon to pick up in his current circumstances; he was glad that Jon had asked for help. “Well… we’ll be going then,” he said a bit awkwardly.
“Right, sure, yeah,” David agreed. “Nice seeing you, Jon!”
“...”
“Oh look, the lift cab is still here!” Martin stepped into the lift. Jon had already escaped into it. “Um, thanks for this,” he said, hefting up the box.
Blissfully, the doors slid shut before David could answer. Martin realized, a second later, that Jon had pressed the button to make them close faster.
“That pontifical bastard…” Jon muttered to himself. Martin had to stifle another laugh at that. He really and truly couldn’t think of another person who would insult someone using the word pontifical in the year 2016.
He didn’t say that, though. Things were certainly more comfortable between them than before, but it just wasn’t the same when they weren’t in a near-death experience.
Martin was just contemplating the fact that he’d have to microwave his food a second time before heading out, when suddenly the lift groaned. The light flickered again.
Then it went out.
And the lift stopped.