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fuck elias man

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.

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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.

"I don't care if she gets to me," Martin says, and there's a raw, hoarse honesty in his voice. His hand seizes Jon's, fingers wrapped tightly around the other man's hand, but his face is mostly numb. He was- exhausted, but fiercely, fiercely protective. "I'm not letting her touch you."

"I care." Jon answers. "I care very damn much. And that's the point, isn't it? Desolation feeding on suffering. Hurting you would be-"

Pretty dang bad. He exhales, bringing Martin's hand up to his lips. "If I do see her again I'm throwing Daisy under the bus, I don't damn well care. I doubt it will help, I did lead Daisy straight to him." But still, let Daisy fight the wax monster.

"We could do like Tim did," Martin suggests tiredly, but he knows it's impossible even as he suggests it. "Let's just- run away somewhere, alright? Find something in common other than work?"

Jon huffs something that would have been amused once, pressing closer to Martin. He places a hand over Martin's chest and yes, it's to feel his heartbeat. It was a nice reminder. "I should properly introduce you to the Admiral, I'm sure we can share a non work related care for the stuffy old thing. Besides, it'd be good for you. Cats are therapeutic, I hear."

"I want a dog when we make it out of this," Martin says quietly. "I swear I'll keep it out of your things, I just- I would very much like a dog." He's talking just to talk, just to try to make Jon feel better, even as he knows he can feel his too-rapidly beating heart. "They're way better than cats."

"They are not." Jon's fingers curl in Martin's shirt, and if everything wasn't awful he'd sound pretty offended. He takes a shaky breath. "Fine, one dog, maybe. If it means that much to you I can suffer through a dog."

And then he speaks quietly after a beat. "I'm sorry, for everything."

"Hey, don't- I, um- I don't mean for you- stop apologizing." He reaches up to cover the hand on his chest, shaking his head. "This isn't your fault. I certainly don't blame you. It's Jude Perry's, and Elias's, and- and whoever else chose all of this. But it's not you. Never you."

Jon exhales, tone dry and tired. "According to Elias I chose all of this with my actions, and I'm not entirely sure he's wrong."

He pauses then shifts, regarding Martin intently. "If you truly believe none of this is my fault then I don't want to hear anything about you being to blame. You're the most innocent party of any of us, you-" He shakes his head, letting it drop onto Martin's shoulder. "You're the only one who seems to care about the casualties."

"It's just- I don't know. It's hard not to feel that way." Martin goes quiet for a moment, reaching up with his good hand to stroke his fingers through Jon's hair. Honestly, he's soothed by the proximity alone. "I just wish- we could look her up forever somewhere."

Jon leans into the contact, hand still on Martin's heartbeat stubbornly. He thinks of Perry's statement and of how Martin had things to lose- his mother, his father and sister, all far away but not far enough Perry wouldn't and couldn't reach. He thinks of how Perry was happy to stalk that boy, the child of the man she destroyed, just to see if he'd ever find something to love that she could take from him. He imagines her doing the same with Martin and his throat constricts.

"There's... there's always more." He answers, strained and trying very hard not to panic. He shifts again so he's wrapping himself around Martin, the angle awkward but he doesn't seem to care. "I'll talk to Basira, to Elias, just- she won't."

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