Work Text:
The sound of the thing that was most certainly not Sasha made Martin’s blood go cold. Tim said she went home. Jon told them all to go home.. she was home. Martin didn’t believe that, but Tim had already been hanging on to the edge of the person he had been for too long. Truly, Martin wasn’t even sure that he was hanging on anymore. Sasha and Tim were close. Yes, Martin had become one of them but there was a closeness to Sasha and Tim that was easy. At least he had thought so, at one point they were, weren’t they? Tim had become angry and cold all of the time, he didn’t want to voice his doubts. Especially not right now.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t after them. It was very specifically calling for Jon. Martin felt panic starting to rise in him at the idea of any of them being stuck in the tunnels with that thing. “We can’t just leave him.”
Tim’s new hatred did not seem at all like he was swayed by the idea of Jon being mauled or murdered, “yeah, we can.”
Martin’s jaw set in determination. Well, if this was how it was going to happen, “I’m going.” He’d already begun to move when he heard Tim cursing and agreeing to come with. Martin wanted to say that he would have done the same if it were Tim down there. He wouldn’t leave any part of their family to whatever death that thing would bring. Much later, he thought about this moment and wondered if he would have said that, if it would have changed anything. It brought him comfort that Tim was willing to come for him, at least. That maybe he had found nothing more in him for Jon, but Tim still cared. Tim was still here.
Another voice came unexpected in the tunnels. Singsong and eerie, but when Martin saw what it belonged to he felt some relief. Just some abnormally tall blonde man who sounded a bit too much like he liked serial killer documentaries. If he were to put money on it, Tim could take him. Together they both could certainly. He had his fists almost ready when Tim pointed out those fingers.
Alright, so two terrors in the tunnels. Martin was slower than Tim. Physically, Tim was the sort who at least stretched now and again. Probably even went to a gym or owned weights. Martin was.. not. Somehow, though, Tim stayed behind him. It was only a short distance to a yellow door. In they went and shut quickly behind them. Martin throwing his back against it to block it long enough to figure out the room they were in. He was already breathing heavily, but that was certainly due to panic and not the exertion.
Tim was the first to speak, “where the hell are we?”
It was only then that Martin got a look at where they were, and he suddenly wished that they had tried their chances with sinister knife finger guy. His stomach dropped when he turned around and saw that the door was gone. In its place was a wall with a lengthy portrait that reflected the hallway that lay ahead. Then the hallway groaned. Tim pointed out that they weren’t likely under the institute anymore and Martin could only nod numbly. He didn’t know why he asked Tim what way to go, but he needed someone else to make a decision right now.
“Right, let’s go right.” Tim didn’t sound much more confident, but he chose a direction and Martin pulled himself away from the wall.
The hallways stretched on and on. Whenever there was a turn, looking down it just looked like it stretched to infinity. Every hallway was the same, every hallway was straight. Until it wasn’t. Distant creaking, Martin thought he heard a door slam. When he turned to the direction he thought it came from, the hallway he peered down seemed to curve. He took a deep breath and almost suggested they go that way since it looked a little different, but when he looked back the rest had taken on the same slight curl. It gave the feeling of being in the center of a spiral.
“No.. it doesn’t.. it doesn’t make sense..” Martin began to stammer, trying to calm the panic. When Tim snapped back at him, he cringed in on himself.
“What gave you that impression? Was it the last hallway? This hallway? That portrait of a hallway, this picture of a hallway?” Tim took a deep breath through his nose when he noticed Martin’s posture. His tone cooled, but down a few too many notches slipping into cold and usual bitter. “You just had to go after him. What did you think you were going to do? Convince it to play nice? Invite it to tea?”
“I don’t know, Tim!” It was Martin’s turn to snap. “I.. I don’t know.” Pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses he rubbed in exhaustion and frustration. “Since it seems to be such a satisfying idea to you, he’s probably dead anyways.”
“It’s a little hard to care about that when we’re all stuck here because of him.”
Martin practically bristled, “oh yes. It’s his fault that some supernatural creatures are hunting us and we’re under some.. under some spell.. that means we can’t leave.”
Tim’s voice raised again, “well it’s his fault I’m here. That Sasha’s here. You can just blame Elias if you..”
“I’m not blaming anyone. I wanted this job. I haven’t tried to quit. I’m sorry that I don’t want it on my conscience that worm-filled, bone stealing, knife fingered monsters are running loose. I can’t just leave.” Martin would have taken this job, and the second he started feeling any way about any of his coworkers he would have not been able to leave them. He didn’t have family. Not really. This was the closest thing he ever had. He would not be like his father, he would not leave the people he loved.
Tim took a breath and closed his eyes, gaining composure, “look. Let’s just go.”
Martin let himself calm as much as he could, “right.”
There was no telling time, Martin had no idea how long they had been down there. He was not hungry; he was not thirsty. The tired that he felt was existential and not related to a need to sleep. The occasional groaning of their new world changing was the only sound since it seemed anything they said just ended up with them snapping at each other. His mind started feeling itchy though. At some points he would just close his eyes, a hand placed on the wall, thinking if he continued looking at those walls with that same wallpaper and that same carpet pattern, that he would truly lose his mind. Walking with the physical guide. Then, with one of these visual breaks, he got the sudden panicked feeling that when he opened his eyes Tim would be gone. He opened his eyes with a start and saw the other slowly walking in front of him. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim jumped at being pulled out of his own world of thoughts.
“Can we take a break. Please. I just want to sit for a minute.” Martin’s voice felt small in his mouth, cracking from how long it had been since either of them had attempted any conversation.
Tim looked like he wanted to quip back something back but when he saw Martin’s face he just gave a resigned sad little nod. Martin sat first and leaned back against the wall, not wanting to close his eyes anymore and Tim settled across from him. “Have you noticed there is no scent in here.” Tim thunked his head back against the wall a few times. “Nothing.”
“I had not.. but now.. I can’t not notice it. Tim.. how long do you think we have been in here.. days?” Crossing his arms over his chest and rubbing his hands over his biceps as if he were cold. Come to think of it. He wasn’t cold. Or hot. Absence of any feeling inside himself.
“Too long. I don’t know Martin.”
After settling back in quiet for another few minutes, or hours, or days, Martin breathed out, “do you think we can die in here? We aren’t starving, we haven’t needed to sleep..”
Tim interrupted quickly, “I don’t know Martin. I don’t want to think about that.”
Martin sniffled, relieved that he could at least cry. Tim looked like he felt a little guilty, and Martin steeled himself. Squared his shoulders and gave a hard rub under his eyes to get rid of the evidence of breaking. “I just wanted to help. I just wanted things to be okay.”
The man across from him sighed, “I know, I know. Eventually, though, you are going to have to come to terms that it doesn’t work like that. Things are not going to be okay. Just wait, he is going to be the death of us.”
“I didn’t even mention him.”
“You didn’t have to.” Tim was already riling himself up and so riling up Martin.
“It’s not like he’s a murderer. He’s just our boss. He also didn’t choose this.” Martin was pushing himself up off the floor. Before Tim had a chance to start arguing with him again about Jonathan Sims, he started walking, “we aren’t going to get out of here just sitting around.”
Tim stood up and faced the opposite direction, “that is where we came from.”
Martin froze and looked each direction and tried to remember which they were walking when he sat down and couldn’t. “I get the feeling it doesn’t really matter..” Because of this, he let Tim choose the direction. At least they could avoid that fight.
By the time they found a door, the tape recorder Tim insisted bringing with for evidence started making it’s familiar whirring again. Martin didn’t care what it lead to. If it was a pit leading to their death, he would have dived headfirst just to know it wouldn’t go on for infinity. He felt like he was going mad. When they came out back at the institute he could have cried from joy at seeing their workplace. It did not last. His first thought was to find Jon, Tim seemed as enthused about it as he expected him to be. It was not going to stop Martin, though.
In his office, there, where Jon should have been, was a man who looked bludgeoned to death. The first wave of fear came from thinking it was Jon. Then, he realized this man was much too old. Not the same build. First a wave of relief. Then guilt. A man was dead, and in Jon’s office.
“I told you.” The disdain radiated off of Tim. Not for Martin, but for Jon. Days or weeks, however long, of arguments and Martin refusing to believe Jon was capable of truly, intentionally, harming someone.
“Oh Jon. What have you done..”