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

[statementends]

Everything about Martin's answer was killing him, and he would have continued his frantic questioning if Martin's own question snapped him to.

He stares a moment, swallowing. "They... everyone who was present on your floor, Martin. Nearly two dozen people." He answers numbly, trying to focus only on the facts rather than the implications. "They... they're saying they think people were killed by some sort of gas poisoning before the fire really began. They're saying it's an accident."

They both know neither of these are true. Jude Perry killed the people and left the bodies to burn. In his heart Jon knows it's more likely she didn't kill them at all, merely left them incapacitated and incapable of escape. He tries not to shudder at the thought and how clearly true it felt in his mind.

By the way, the recorder on his table most definitely clicked on as Martin came in. Fun stuff.

[corkscrewed]

"We- we have to call them. We have to let Daisy know. It wasn't an accident." The stress from all of this is starting to catch up to him, and he backs up, moving to climb onto the couch. His shoes and jacket are still on, and he's shaking very slightly. A delayed reaction, maybe.

Everything he owned was gone. Worse- people were dead, and it was his fault.

"She said- something about Mike Crew. She said- you owe her more screaming. You have to move. We have to move. She can't know where you live. She can't do this to you, too, Jon." And now the panic is starting to set in.

[statementends]

Jon stares for a moment after him, wondering how he can possibly say it wouldn't matter. They likely already knew it wasn't an accident. They likely already sectioned it and the truth would never reach the light of day. Those people would never get justice.

He walks over, trying to suppress his own rising panic. It was shockingly easy, for some reason, when he focused on simply categorizing the facts, making proper notes in his head.

It takes a lot to resist asking Martin for details, to not say 'statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding an attack on his apartment.' He swallows as he sits down next to him. "Just... one thing at a time. Alright. Let me see your hand- how bad is it? Did you see someone for it?"

[corkscrewed]

"There were- paramedics. An ambulance came to check people out, I didn't- I didn't stick around long enough for them to find- I guess they went from apartment to apartment." Martin offers his hand, securely bandaged, a quiver in his voice. "It's not that bad. Just- first degree, is what they said. Not nearly as bad as yours."

God, he's so scared.

"I told her- I said to her that she couldn't have you."

[statementends]

Jon reaches out, gently taking his hand. His own was healing, forming stiff scars in places he was learning to work with, and seeing some reflection of it on Martin made the panic he was trying to fight down flare. He exhales shakily, nodding. "Do you need painkillers?"

The comment about what he said to Jude just... Jon swallows, pulling Martin's hand as gently as he can and kisses the bandages at his knuckles. He tries but his voice shakes, small. "I'm sorry I... I'm so sorry, Martin."

[corkscrewed]

"She can't! She thinks that she can get to you, but she can't!" Martin is midway to hysterics now, and on any other day he would have been soothed by the kiss to his his bandaged knuckles, but today-- today, two dozen people were dead because of him. "If she shows her face to me again- she better not. If she knows what's good for her, she won't let me see her again."

And then a sudden choked, gasping breath. Just as quickly as the fire and fight came, it's extinguished, because Martin is abruptly having a hard time breathing.

"Some of my neighbors had children, Jon."

[statementends]

Jon watches him, and knows with certainty she wouldn't go after Jon if she wanted to hurt him. He knows, without a doubt in his heart, she would find Martin again leave him a lifeless husk, just like her coworker. She would burn the only thing he really loved because that's what desolation really was. She would do that and Elias wouldn't blink an eye, would just tell him he had been warned.

It takes everything in Jon just to place his hand on Martin's back and continue to swallow down the bubbling panic. He wants to grab Martin and not let go. He wants to go back in time and tell himself not to god damn drag Martin into a relationship that would make him suffer like this.

He blinks rapidly, and when he speaks his voice is hoarse but firm. "It is not your fault. You're thinking that, aren't you? Martin, look at me. It is in no way your fault. You didn't send me to Perry, you didn't kill Michael Crew, you had absolutely nothing to do with this. If I wasn't with you she would have likely just burned my flat and killed everyone here. You were just- you didn't deserve this. Please. It's not your fault."

[corkscrewed]

"She could've done- just anything else, Jon. She should've just killed me instead. They weren't- the only thing those people were guilty of was living near me." He feels like he's been hollowed out, like someone has come at him with an ice cream scoop and just peeled away the insides of everything that made him human. His skin is vibrating, and it's not a pleasant feeling.

"What am I supposed to do?"

[statementends]

"No she shouldn't have!" Jon snaps, unable to stop himself. He's shaking rather visibly now, hand tight on the back of Martin's shirt, clutching it. "Killing you would not have spared them! She would have burned the whole damn place down and- lord, I don't know, sent me your god damned head on a spike! Desolation, the... the Lightless Flame, they feed their god suffering. If it wasn't us, if it wasn't you, if god damned Daisy hadn't shot Michael Crew's comatose body it would just be another building, another family with- with children."

He takes a deep breath, still shaking, and swallows. "You... we keep going. We try to stop them where we can. It's all we can do."

[corkscrewed]

Martin freezes when Jon snaps at him, staring at him in something like surprised terror, before he shatters and leans over, weeping openly against his own good hand. It's just too much, the thought that this was his fault, no matter what Jon insisted - the stupid, ugly wish that he'd been killed too, if only so he didn't have to deal with this.

He just needs a moment. Not long, but long enough to calm himself down.

[statementends]

Jon swallows, hesitating because he can't tell if his touch would be welcomed. After a moment he uncurls his hand, shifts closer and and presses his palm to Martin's back.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to him, and it's for more than just the outburst. He keeps his hand firm against Martin's back and tries not to tremble. "Martin..."

[corkscrewed]

Martin gulps down some air, just tying to catch his own breath. He needs to shower- he can't handle this, smelling like smoke, and he tries to focus on the immediacy of things now. What can he do. What can he fix. Anything?

"I need to buy a new laptop," he says thickly, numbly. "Mine was still in my flat."

[statementends]

"You can use mine until you do." Jon murmurs. At least that was something he could do. He didn't use it much lately anyway, besides for investigation work. Statements that recorded on it seemed rather pointless now.

He takes a deep breath, exhales, then focuses on Martin. "Come on... you should get changed out of those."

[corkscrewed]

"Oh, I know, I don't even- I barely use mine, it's why I haven't gotten it until now- or why I haven't tried to get it. Do you think she knew I wasn't home? How would she have known? Do you think she's been following me? -- oh god, even if you move, they could just follow you from the archives, couldn't they?" He's not moving to get changed yet, just swinging red-rimmed eyes to look at Jon. "Should we move back into the Archives?"

[statementends]

Frankly they were all good points. How she knew where Martin lived was a little beyond troubling, though he couldn't say he was surprised. He was holding it together completely on logical detachment at the moment so that certainly helped. He runs his hand up and down Martin's back as he shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter, we can't stay there indefinitely. I'll at least have to leave to take statements." He murmurs, exhaling out his nose. "If she actually wanted to get to me she would have just followed you back here. She wanted to scare you, make you suffer. It's what she does. We just... have to hope we don't cross paths again."

[corkscrewed]

"Well, good for her, because she- she definitely managed it. I'm suffering. Maybe I should ring her up and leave some feedback. You think she has a Yelp page, Jon? Not that I could get to it- she melted my laptop!"

Martin giggles anxiously, before he begins to hastily claw his shirt off. "Do you know if any of my clothes here are clean?"

[statementends]

"Martin, breath." Jon reaches for Martin's uninjured wrist, trying to get a firm grip on it. "It's not your fault." Yes, he would repeat that as many times as it was necessary.

He lets go after a beat just to give Martin the chance to remove his shirt. "I don't know, if they aren't you can borrow something of mine for now and we'll get it cleaned."

[corkscrewed]

Martin stands up, still clearly very much on edge, before he drifts into Jon's room to dig through his closet. He doesn't check any of his own clothes- just changes into some of Jon's pajamas, because that seems more comfortable than anything else, before he comes back into the living room and drops onto the sofa.

"I'm sorry," he says, quietly, "that you thought I was hurt. I should have called. I didn't even think."

[statementends]

Jon watches him go, glad at least for the smell of smoke gone. He pushes his glasses up his forehead and rubs his face, shifting from the position only when he heard Martin return.

"No, it's... I understand." He answers softly. It was certainly better than when he up and ran for five days after his encounter with Perry. He takes a shaky breath and stands. "I'll... get you water. Painkillers. Yes, that should ah- should help. Here, take my phone and call your mother, she um... if she saw the news I'm sure she's concerned." He pulls his phone out of his pocket before quickly retreating to the kitchen.

[corkscrewed]

"I, um- yeah. Thanks, Jon."

Martin will be sitting on the couch, staring at Jon's phone a little numbly when he does return. It looks like he's got the news open, reading through the breaking stories about the fire. A lot of death- the story is gaining traction.

His throat is tight. "I, er- I don't actually know her phone number. My mum's. I'm gonna have to charge my phone." His phone, dead, sitting on the coffee table.

[statementends]

Jon returns with the water and pills, placing them in front of Martin and frowning at the news. "Well, I suppose at least you didn't lose your phone." He hopes Martin's mother doesn't keep up with the news, that would be a stressful time for her.

He takes a seat next to Martin, grimacing a little before finally speaking, "I... I think I need you to make a statement. I know it's- it can wait." But he needed to make a statement at some point, Jon felt as much. Martin's brief descriptions hadn't... well, they weren't enough.

[corkscrewed]

"What?" He asks, head snapping over to look at him. "There's- there's nothing to make a statement about, Jon, I just- I saw her in the hallway and she burned my building down."

[statementends]

"Martin, please." Jon is very tired and, frankly, very sorry. "Even if it's short it- this is how we feed it. If you don't it will eat you and I can't-"

He swallows and grabs Martin's elbow, high above where the burns are. "I can't."

[corkscrewed]

Martin pulls away just slightly, if only because the thought of feeding it- well, it makes his skin crawl.

"I- um, I- fine, Jon. It's- get the recorder, do your- thing."

[statementends]

Jon curls his fingers but nods, standing up to get the recorder. He tries not to think of anything as he does, things like how close Martin was to dying or the burn on Martin's arm, the dead husks of his neighbors all because Daisy had to god damn kill Crew that way. His own insatiable curiosity wasn't easy to acknowledge either.

He brings it over, unsurprised it's already turned on, and makes no move to touch Martin this time. He doubts the touch would be welcome and, well, it was time for Archivist mode.

"Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding an encounter with Jude Perry and the destruction of his apartment. Statement given by subject-" Etc, etc. Imagine a time when they could just cuddle after a bad event rather than this bullshit.