fuck elias man

[statementends]

Jon's hesitant to leave Elias' office and no, it was certainly not because he wanted to be in the man's presence anymore than necessary. The state Elias drove Martin into, ready to sacrifice himself on the chance at something changing, that haunted Jon more than he liked to admit. It felt like a barely dodged bullet, which felt like most things these days, really.

No, his hesitance was more an uncertainty of what to do now. He dropped off the radar, from Georgie and Martin, for five days and he could only imagine how they'd both react. At least he left Georgie a note when he left to stay with Martin, she had some idea, even if it was a vague one. Martin, on the other hand, he didn't contact at all.

Yes, that... was a mistake. He knew that.

It seemed like a small thing to worry about in the grand scheme of things- people were dead, he was turning into a monster, Basira and Daisy were now tied to it and, it turns out, Elias had a kill switch to keep them all in line. Now that he saw Tim it was pretty obvious he wasn't doing well and, if Jon was going to be honest with himself, unlikely to last if all he heard was true. 'Feed your god or it feeds on you.' Tim certainly looked... lesser.

"Jon?" Elias' tone is pointed, and Jon sighs. He doesn't bother any sort of goodbye as he goes out.

He wonders, briefly, if he could avoid Martin and just... go take this statement now. He didn't want to, not really, avoid Martin at least. He sort of wanted to just convince Martin to put off everything that needed to be said so they could go to bed and just sleep, have Martin close. Maybe take the statement first, the urge was strong.

Comments

[corkscrewed]

"Well. Seems like that all went well." Martin is there when Jon leaves Elias's office, because of course Martin is there. He's doing a good job of pretending to be distracted by his own phone, at least, even if he isn't really - he just has nothing else to look at right now, and looking at Jon- seeing the injuries on his hand and at his throat is just too much for him to bear right now.

So he doesn't look.

Instead, he just frowns at his phone, his voice more than a little strained. He continues before Jon really has a chance to speak. "Good to know you're not dead, then. Always glad to find out, unexpectedly, after five days of radio silence."

[statementends]

"Well?" Jon almost has to laugh at that but refrains, trying to keep his composure for Martin's sake. "I'm not sure Basira and Detective Tonner would agree."

He does look, frowns at the obvious strain and the less than obvious ideas of what he could do. He doubts Martin wanted to be touched, he wasn't even sure Martin wanted to talk to him at all. He's here though, isn't he? That had to mean something.

"I'm sorry." He's sincere, at least, even if he was sure they both knew this was absolutely the kind of mistake he'd make again. "Things got... got out of control and- hell, what am I saying. I don't know, Martin. I just... couldn't stop."

[corkscrewed]

"It was sarcasm, Jon. I was being sarcastic." Martin does finally look up at least, and he's angry and upset and worried out of his head all at the same time. Tired, too, because at least when he was trying to keep the Archives running before he knew Jon was safe back at his place.

The past week, though, had offered no respite from the stress. Just the plain and heavy fear that wherever Jon had gone, it hadn't been good.

"Well, I'm just- I'm glad you decided to leave without a note. Better than you being kidnapped, I guess." Perhaps there's a little acid in his voice, but he can't help himself. Jon's hurt; he knows that his own upset feelings are going to take a backseat to worry very soon, so he's letting himself indulge now. Just for a minute.

[statementends]

"Ah." Jon murmurs, glancing around just to make sure no one else was present. He didn't want to admit how comforting it was to be back in the archives, like coming home and yes, that was a special kind of alarming. Two years ago Tim and Sasha would be eavesdropping, enjoying hearing him get rightfully chewed out. A year ago Tim would probably be helping Martin do the chewing out.

Not anymore.

"I- I know, I had no right to put you through that. I was... I didn't know what to do with the information I had and I didn't-" He forces himself to stop because boy, emotions are starting to well in his chest and it's getting shakier. "Can we please have this conversation somewhere else? I can't- not here."

[corkscrewed]

"Yeah."

Martin's eyes cut up to him properly then, raking down Jon's frame as if checking for any other injury- something life-threatening he may have missed or something stupid like that, before he finally nods and looks away.

"After work, then. S'pose you'll be wanting to come and get your stuff." He doesn't realize how it sounds like he's kicking Jon out, because he isn't - he just can't imagine that, after all of this, Jon won't be desperate to get back into his own flat. So he swallows and heads for the stairs. "We can talk then."

[statementends]

"I-" Jon stares a moment, because yes of course his mind automatically goes to 'breaking up with me.' He struggles rather intensely with this, a large part of him ready to beg Martin for a second chance or something equally selfish and ridiculous, the kind of nonsense you only saw in movies. And it was selfish, of course, because at the moment losing the only person he ever actually loved made it feel like he was that much closer to becoming a creature more than a man.

Boy, struggling a lot today. He finally nods numbly. "I can... can head over now, clear everything out so you don't have to worry about it." He's pretty proud he managed that, maybe shakily but still. "Not like there's much, right? Quick enough job."

[corkscrewed]

"Don't be daft." It's said with the same thoughtless exasperation as before, even as Martin pauses at the threshold of the stairs. "You said you wanted to talk out of here, right? We're not going to get much talking done if you're gone by the time I get home. Just- wait for me to finish up what I'm working on, alright?"

[statementends]

"Of course." Again, proud of himself that he managed that much. If he wasn't entirely sure Martin wanted nothing to do with him he'd probably try to press Martin to come with him, hell to Elias and it all for one damn day. Elias made it painfully clear he was watching and there was little any of them could do without his knowing.

Well, at least he'd have time to take that statement, which is what he was going to immediately head over and do, though not before staring back at Martin a few long moments. Drama.

When Martin did get home he'd probably be just at the end of things, telling the recorder Breakon & Hope's other warehouse was a good a start as any.

[corkscrewed]

He wants to ask about the statement, and he will, but he needs a break from work. For just one minute, he needs to forget about statements and just take comfort in the fact that Jon is actually okay and that things are dire but not yet hopeless.

"Brought dinner," Martin says as he comes through the door, toeing off his shoes and nudging it shut behind him. "Just- soup and sandwiches from that shop near work. Probably not warm anymore, but I didn't even really think before I got on the train- was mostly just hungry. Sorry."

[corkscrewed]

It'll be a little over a week later when Martin has already, for all intents and purposes, moved in with Jon. Not that he's really moved many of his things over yet- just a few outfits, his toothbrush, his phone charger. Which is why he's heading over there now, if only because he wants to pick up his laptop and some more clothes. His own shampoo. Things have been- not great at work, but better. Having a goal, having Jon back in the office- not having to do statements? It's a relief, which means that he'll just smile easily at Jude as he moves to slip past her in the hall. "Whoops, sorry- pardon me."

[statementends]

Jude didn't know exactly what she was expecting from her... target? That was close enough. Some little servant of the Eye would likely perish as his master watched on in glee. A pathetic lot, really, but this one seemed a lot more hopeful than she expected. He was still smiling, it was-

Hilarious, honestly. She can't help the laughter bubbling up her throat.

She leans against the wall, letting him pass, but says, "You're a cute little thing, aren't you? I never expected the Archivist to have such dreadfully bland tastes. They're usually more... adventurous."

[corkscrewed]

And just like that, the smile is gone. He stops in his tracks, his shoulders settling straight, a little defensively. "Who are you?" He says, and then- "Jon's not here. You're not getting to him, so you might as well- just leave, please."

[statementends]

"Ah, that's better." Jude pushes off the wall but keeps her distance, offering her hand to shake. "Jude Perry, it's a pleasure, really. I never actually got to meet one of Gertrude's assistants- heard plenty of stories, of course, but it's just not the same, is it?"

She regards him, smile still in place, one that looks like she's constantly fighting back laughter. "Oh you sweet, little thing. I'm not here to see the Archivist. I'm here to see you."

[corkscrewed]

Martin is a good, polite boy, leaning forward to take her hand to shake before her name registers. He makes a little sound of alarm, but doesn't yank it back immediately- almost like he's afraid she'll strike, like a snake.

"I- don't know what you'd want with me," he says quickly. "I'm just an assistant."

[statementends]

The look of glee on her face is probably telling of what a bad decision that was, and only moments after he grabs her hand it starts to heat up.

"Elias is really something else, isn't he? An acolyte of ceaseless watching, of knowing and yet he chooses to keep his little servants all in the dark." As she speaks the heat quickly goes from moderate to unbearable, and it is most certainly beginning to make Martin's skin blister. "Do you have one of your little recorders with you? I wonder if your scream will be as lovely as the Archivist's was. Oh, I would very much love to have a record for him."

[corkscrewed]

Shit, it hurts, and Martin yells before he realizes what he's doing. He yanks his hand back quickly, or makes the attempt at least, holding tight to his wrist and snapping out- "What do you want from me? I didn't do anything to you!"

It's warm in the hallway, too, but he hasn't quite picked up on that much yet, either.

[statementends]

Jude laughs but lets him escape, humming to herself as she adjusts the now indented 'skin' of her hand. "Hm, not as good a scream as his, but we didn't really get down to the meat of the pain, did we? Maybe another time. You were polite enough to shake my hand, unlike your Archivist."

Her laugh just gets more shrill at Martin's words, head craning back. "You exist, do you really think I need something as petty as revenge or anger to want to make you suffer? You lot! You really don't get it at all, it's-" She's nearly breathless with laughter at this point, clutching her said, "it's absurd."

She wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. "No, I do want something from you though. I want you to send a message to the Archivist for me. It's important."

elias finally bites it

[statementends]

Jon never thought he'd be thankful for Daisy but she did know how to dispose of bodies.

It was probably alarming the thought passed through his head without much feeling behind it, too close to common place now for anything like the absolute horror that was watching Daisy kill Michael Crew without batting an eye. He wonders with the same disturbing neutrality if she was disappointed she didn't get to kill Elias herself. He wonders if she wants to kill Martin now, who got that 'honor,' who now seemed to hold the power Elias once did.

He wonders if the others realize it yet, properly. Jon did, or he thinks he does, maybe because he's the Archivist and the Archivist is meant to be... what? Maintained? Led? By the head of the Institute. There was something there, he knows it, he tried to ignore it with Elias and now-

Now it was Martin, and he knows he shouldn't feel relief or even contentment at this. Martin had to kill, Martin was certainly no longer human in the same ways he wasn't. If there was any chance, any at all, for Martin to live a life outside of the Institute one day it was now gone. Jon knows he should mourn that, and he does. But that isn't all he feels, and that was... it just was.

There was probably still blood on the floor, Elias' body was probably still warm in Daisy's trunk and Jon still feels like he's moments from a death Martin saved him from. He heads to the office- once Elias' and now no one's (Martin's? He doesn't know why if feels that way) and cracks the door open.

"Martin?" He doesn't really know what to expect, but the careful neutrality he felt before begins to waver.

[corkscrewed]

What was it that Elias had once called himself? The beating heart of the Institute? He'd certainly implied once that if he died, the rest of the Institute would be dragged into the grave with him, but that wasn't even anywhere near the front of his mind when he saw Elias, a hair's breadth from ending Jon's own. He'd just... Reacted, in something like instinct, felt the sickening crunch of bone when he'd slammed the wrench (clumsily grabbed at when passing by some momentarily abandoned repairs in the hallway) down on his head.

He'd done it. He'd killed him. He, Martin Blackwood, was a murderer, and here he was, sitting in his victim's office.

He knows Jon is at the door before he speaks, though he has no idea how he knows. "It's all right. Come on in," he says, voice wavering slightly.

[statementends]

Jon breathes through his nose a moment before entering, blinking away the very vivid image of everything that had happened just hours before. Elias' calm explanations, the steady, sympathetic way he explained there were no hard feelings for what he was about to do, and at the time all Jon could numbly wonder was if he said the same to Gertrude before the end.

He closes the door behind him. "Martin..." He repeats that, because he wasn't sure what there was to say. Well, admittedly there was plenty, but at the moment the best he can do is walk forward in silence. He should tell Martin they needed to leave, to get out of this crime scene and go home and lick their wounds. He should try and figure out what even happened from here on out.

"You saved me." He says instead, a little dazed still as he blinks rapidly a moment and swallows at the dry feeling in his mouth. "It... thank you."

[corkscrewed]

Martin's eyes cut up to Jon then, a little thrown. He keeps waiting for the reprimand, the descent of the police upon him to cart him away and to throw him into jail. Sure, it had been necessary, but necessary murder was still murder, wasn't it?

But then there went Daisy, promising quietly to take care of it. And Martin knew that she would. He didn't know how he did, but- he did.

He has so many things to say, but all he can manage right then after studying Jon's face is a soft, tired, "I will always save you, Jon."

[statementends]

Jon inhales sharply, and in truth he shouldn't even be remotely surprised by Martin saying as much, believing as much. Still, he can't help but be struck with how much Martin really did love him, enough to be able to say something like that so readily despite everything, enough to do something like this so readily. He honestly didn't know what to do with that, or the fact he loved Martin back more deeply than he thought he was capable of.

He walks around the desk, reaching out to trace down Martin's temple to his jaw. He should be taking care of this, trying to figure out where they went from here or taking care of the trauma Martin was no doubt struggling with.

Instead he blinks rapidly again, this time fighting back tears as he lets out a choked sound that was probably a laugh. "It's ridiculous, I- it's inappropriate and foolish but I can't help... I never thought someone could love me the way you do. Or that I could love someone like this." He inhales sharply again. "I shouldn't... I'm sorry."

[corkscrewed]

Martin takes an unsteady breath when Jon touches down the side of his face. He tilts his head subtly to the side, yielding to the feeling, if only because it's the first time he's felt even slightly grounded since the moment he ended Elias.

Right. Elias was dead. Fuck. Fuck.

"Why are you sorry?" He asks belatedly, as if he's just now parsing what Jon is saying, and he reaches up to take Jon's wrist in his hand. Gently, carefully, like he's trying to make sure that Jon doesn't recoil from him, doesn't flinch away from the murderer in the room. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. Nothing, okay?"

[statementends]

Jon does not recoil, if anything he relaxes some, though the lump in his throat remains hard to form words around. He doesn't argue Martin's point though he wants to, taking a moment to breath before answering.

"I used to think your optimism was naive in ways, yet this whole damn time I was convinced you could be... be spared this somehow. Spared getting dragged in any deeper, spared-" his humanity, but he can't bring himself to say that so he doesn't. After a beat he continues. "I wanted that for you. I foolishly and arrogantly though that was what was best for you, like I had any right to decide as much."

He exhales another shaky laugh. "And now I think you're the heart, like he said. Lord Martin, you deserved so much better than this."

[corkscrewed]

"I'm not the- I'm not anything," Martin protests, but even as he does he knows that he's wrong. As much as he'd been caught up in the orbit of the Institute before, he'd been ensnared completely now. He could feel the Beholding's hooks latching into him, burrowing deeper by the moment, and he knew with a heavy certainty that if he tries to loose himself of those that he'd simply bleed out.

When Jon doesn't flinch away from him, Martin brings his hand to his mouth to softly kiss at his knuckles.

"But it doesn't matter. It doesn't. Elias was- he had to be stopped, no matter what. I wouldn't let him kill again. I couldn't."