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]

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.

[corkscrewed]

Martin hesitates, before he takes a breath and begins. Most of the stammering is gone, his vision straight down onto his lap as he recites into the recorder.

"If I had to circle and underline the biggest mistake I made, I think that it's- I think that I got cocky. Or- no. That brings swaggering self-confidence to mind, doesn't it, and I certainly don't have any of that. No, not any of that. It was... complacency, I think, is the better word to use. I got complacent. I'm an assistant at the Archives, which- which Jon already knows, of course, and which any of you listening to this in the future will probably know already, thanks to the introduction, which- right, okay, that's not the point.

The point is, I guess... complacency. I'm an assistant at the Archives, and we've been going through a hell of a lot lately. My boss, Jon - the Archivist I'm assistant to, for anyone who might not know us personally, if these tapes ever get out there - recently had his name cleared in a murder investigation. That's a long story in its own right, and honestly everything about the entire investigation was incredibly unorthodox and frankly a little bit terrifying- but it's really not one that's mine to tell. The fact is: Jon was innocent, and after some time away, he was finally back.

But- right. Complacency. Sorry, I just-" He turns briefly away from the recorder, expression apologetic. "There's just a lot to say, and- is this alright?" He hadn't worried about it so much when he'd been giving the statement about Prentiss, but this felt- different.

[statementends]

"It is." Jon says, probably more gently than most people thought him capable of. He always felt something strange when taking or dictating statements, he hesitated to call it a closeness to the subject but that wasn't entirely wrong. To feel that with Martin now, someone he cared about deeply and after so much had happened, it was a bit strange. Maybe slightly overwhelming.

He places his hand briefly on Martin's shoulder before nodding. "Please, continue."

[corkscrewed]

Martin nods, visibly reassured by the touch to his shoulder. He takes a breath and continues.

"So Jon was back, which is great. And on top of being my boss, Jon is sort of my boyfriend? There's no abuse of power or anything there, we were just... two people, I think, who got a little overwhelmed by everything that we were dealing with at work. By work that we couldn't leave."

Speaking to the recorder, it's not so weird speaking about Jon as if he isn't there. Besides, the words are sort of just- coming, blurted out before the thoughts are fully formed and investigated.

"We had a pretty big row right after he came back. Everyone fights with the people they love sometimes, don't they? It wasn't that big of a deal, but it did somehow end with me deciding to move in with him, just so I could stay close. Easier to look after him that way, right? I feel like most people would probably get sick of living and working with the same person, but- right, no, not the point. Um, we decided to move in together a while back, and but my lease isn't up for a while, and so I haven't really been in any rush to get my things out. I've mostly just been staying at Jon's place, anyway.

So this afternoon..." He pauses to swallow. "This afternoon, on my way home from work, I thought I'd pop by my flat for a moment. Pick up some essentials that I'd left there- my laptop, mostly, a couple of outfits, things like that. Normal stuff. I was in a pretty good mood, all things considered? Sure, things were still weird at work, but Jon was back, and so was Tim, and I felt like... it was nice, feeling like I had direction again, finally. Muddied direction, sure, and it's still easy to feel like we're... just being puppeted around by some big spooky hand in the sky, but it's nice to pretend sometimes, isn't it?"

He licks his lips, trying so hard to keep himself on the point.

"So I was in a good mood when I went back to my old flat. I was sort of on autopilot, at least until I tried to slip past this woman to get to my door, and instead of heading on by me she just kind of leaned against the wall, I guess?" His face pales slightly. "God, if I had just- if I had known then what she'd done, if I'd known she'd been waiting for me..." He scrubs his face with his hands, trying to rally. "She insulted me a little bit, said I was- cute, and how surprised she was that the Archivist would have such bland taste? That put me on the defensive immediately, of course. I asked who she was, and she said her name was Jude Perry, who- Jon had met her before. She was with the Lightless Flame, she..."

Martin fidgets, and part of him revolts, because he doesn't want to be telling this, he isn't ready to re-live it yet, but it's too late now.

"I shook her hand, because I'm an idiot, I guess. She burned my hand like she burned Jon's, though not nearly as badly. The paramedic later said it was just a first-degree burn, so that's- it's something." He licks his lips, breathing carefully measured. "I told her she wasn't getting to Jon, and she replied that she wasn't there for him - she was there for me. I asked her why she attacked me and she told me that she didn't need a reason to, she just... I get the feeling that's just the kind of thing she does. It made her happy, hearing my scream. She was laughing at me."

The blistered skin of his hand stings, and unconsciously Martin is pulling his hand against himself, like he might be able to shield it from the memory.

"She said she'd- love to take me apart, piece by piece. And then, her words as best as I remember them? She said, um, 'Tell your Archivist that I heard about what happened to Mike Crew. Tell him that he doesn't get to use my words-- against me?' Or, um, 'To shift the board,' I think is what she said exactly. She was getting hotter then, like- her body, I could feel heat just radiating off of her, and the hallway was starting to smoke, but I was in pain and didn't even realize..."

Another swallow, before he continues in a tone flatter than before.

"She said the next time she saw Jon that he'd owe her 'a great deal more screaming than our first handshake.' I remember that part pretty specifically. And then she said- 'I could always take that payment from you.' Something about- his screaming being more satisfying at that."

That was a part he'd deliberately left out, a part he'd never meant for Jon to hear.

"She left, and I told her not to go near him, I - screamed it at her in the hallway, but she didn't care. Then I finally noticed that - my apartment was on fire. She must have set something alight while she waited for me, and my doorknob was hot, so I didn't dare open it up, but I pulled the fire alarm and called emergency services. I waited outside, too, for them to show up, and that's when they bandaged my hand..."

He trails off, jaw set tensely and uncomfortably.

"It wasn't until I got back to Jon's that I found out she'd - I didn't check any of the other rooms on my floor. She'd been in them, too. Dozens of people were killed, but not me." His hands are shaking just very, very slightly. "And then I came back here, and now I'm charging my phone. That's it."

[statementends]

The one good thing about going into Archivist mode was he could never really bring himself to speak. Speaking would interrupt the story, and unless the giver was addressing him he found no reason to do so. The statements always came without his intervention- he supposes that's because of the compulsion. An unpleasant thought. He didn't even ask Martin anything this time but he wonders if it still triggered and dragged the story out of him.

He's glad for the not speaking though, because there was too much of that story clawed at his gut violently. It didn't feel- ok, it felt real before but it wasn't so incredibly there, the image of Jude with Martin, hurting him, threatening to hurt him, locking her claws into him. The very thought made him ill, bile nearly rising in his throat at the bit about Martin's pain as the payment.

"Statement ends." He manages before slumping, rubbing his eyes for a long moment under his glasses. He pulls his hands away to turn off the recorder- if it's stay off was hard to say, but he didn't damn well care. He turns to Martin, reaching to take his good hand. He struggles with what to say.

"She won't get to you again." He finally manages, jaw set, grip tight.