Chapter Text
Something strange happened. After the whole Michael Crew incident, Jon had stopped talking. At all. At first Martin and Elias had thought that it was a physical problem and Daisy really had cut too deep, but there was no harm. He didn’t protest once when Martin pulled him to the hospital other than a weak tug of the wrist to pull it out of Martin’s hand. Tim didn’t care much, he hated Jon too much to care. Jon simply got back to work, not bothering to talk to anyone. Which made everyone more bothered. No snarky comments, no asking for follow-ups quicker, nothing.
Martin entered Jon’s office with some tea. “Hello, Jon…?” There was no one in Jon’s chair, but he could hear the Archivist speaking. He realised the sound was coming from under the desk. And in shock and horror, Martin realised that Jon finally broke. From all of the horrible things that had happened to him, he finally stopped being able to handle it. The larger man lightly placed the tea on the tea. “Jon… I brought you some tea… you can drink it when you’re ready,” he gently mumbled to the man who simply continued reading the statement. Martin knew that Jon had heard him and so he left the room silently.
But Martin wasn’t done. He was fuming. They fucking broke him. He didn’t even do anything wrong. Everyone simply decided to hate him for no reason. All the scars built up on the skin also built up in his heart and it finally shattered. Martin decided to leave it alone for now. There was nothing he could do. Trying to find Daisy would be fruitless and he didn’t want Tim to be more mad. So as he sat down at his desk, he silently steamed.
Meanwhile, Jon had cautiously crawled out from under his desk, looking at the tea in silence. He grabbed the saucer and took it with him as he went back under his desk, but he didn’t drink it. He simply stared at the tea until he heard the door open again. To this, he froze, eyes wide and curled into himself. The footsteps were cautious. “Jon?” Tim's voice called out. Jon didn’t make a sound. “Whatever, he can get the fucking work whenever he gets back.”
Jon heard the footsteps walking away and quickly snatched the papers from his desk, the noise leading Tim to turn around. He seemed confused but slightly irritated. “Are you under the fucking desk?” The Archivist froze. He didn’t want to expose himself, to open himself to more harm. So he curled around himself defensively as he heard the footsteps approaching again. They were almost hesitant, but soon Tim’s jeans and sneakers were in view and a few seconds later, so was the man’s face, his eyebrows furrowed.
Jon moved back into the corner of his desk, staring at Tim, wide-eyed like a scared animal. He shook silently. He didn’t like being seen. Not like this, where he could easily be accessed with no escape. No easy escape, at least. The weight of his blunt pocket knife sat heavy in his pocket as he stared Tim in the eyes. The emotions swirling through said man’s eyes were mixed. He seemed surprised, angry and concerned all at once, though the anger still soon took over.
“What the fuck, Jon? Is this what you’ve been doing all day?! Just hiding under there??” Tim shouted angrily. Jon didn’t bother saying anything back, simply averting his gaze downwards and curling into a ball, simply taking the harsh words. He tucked his head between the space of his knees and his chest, trying to keep his breathing steady. “We’ve been working all day and you’ve just been fucking hiding?!” The sound of the yelling drew Martin back into the room. He seemed confused for a second before he realised what was happening.
“TIM!” Martin yelled, making the angered man snap his head up and look slightly surprised. “Don’t just yell at him. He’s been having a rough time. Please, just leave him alone, he’s been working, I promise.” Martin made eye contact, and though his words were soft and not very forceful, his eyes told Tim to listen to him. Tim scoffed and glanced at the broken Archivist, who’s shoulders were now shaking. Was… was he crying? He stalked out of the room, in quick angry steps.
As he pushed past Martin, he muttered under his breath. “Of course you’d take his side.”
That made Martin frown. He wasn’t taking sides. He was defending Jon, who was obviously not okay, from becoming more stressed. Speaking of. The large man took a step forward, making his footsteps gentle but able to be heard. He sat carefully on the other side of the desk, making sure to not get too close. “Hey, Jon…” he started gently. He wasn’t sure what to say. He could comfort people but Jon was so skittish right now that a face to face conversation was out of the question. And so this was the best he could do.
“Are you… are you okay?” He questioned quietly, eyeing the door where Melanie was peeking in. She seemed confused. She must have been drawn in by Tim’s yelling too. Opening her mouth as if to speak, she looked around. Martin simply shook his head silently. She paused for a second, before shrugging and walking past. There was no response from Jon, simply quiet, fast breaths. “Just- just breathe, okay? Breathe with me, in… out… in… out…”
Even though Jon didn’t say anything, Martin could hear the man following the breathing and so he continued to breathe carefully, instructing all the while. Soon, he could hear Jon’s breathing was back to a normal pace. He smiled softly, glad that Jon was… well, he wasn’t sure if he was feeling better, but at least he was breathing better. “There you go…” he murmured softly. As usual, there was no response, but there was a new noise. A slow, quiet noise of a sip and a clink of porcelain on porcelain.
His smile widened a bit. “It’s good that you drank something,” he said quietly. There was no reply. His smile turned the slightest bit sad. What else did he expect? “Well, I’ll leave you be for now, okay, Jon? Do you need some food or something? Ah, if you don’t want to talk, just uhm…” Martin paused. Maybe notes? No no, Jon’s hands are probably pretty shaky. “Knock. One for no, two for yes, three for maybe.”
There was a small period of silence before there was a hesitant two knocks on the wood of the desk. “Is… is that a yes to the food?” Another slow two knocks. Martin’s grin grew a bit happier. He had a way to communicate! “Okay! I’ll be back with food soon!” Martin said, a bit more cheer in his voice. At least Jon was trying to talk. Not that there’s anything wrong with him not wanting to talk, it’s absolutely fair. But it was nice to be able to communicate. He stood up and rushed to the breakroom to make some sandwiches.
As he did, Jon finished his tea in a few gulps and silently slipped the tea and saucer back onto the desk. He moved back into the corner of the desk, rubbing tiredly at the tear tracks running down his cheeks. He didn’t want to move but also he didn’t want his limbs to cramp. He stayed still for a few seconds before taking the follow-up research Tim did and beginning to read through it. It was actually very good work, but Jon didn’t feel much as he stared it. Should he feel bad that he didn’t appreciate his assistants? Should he be angry at Tim? Should he be relieved that Tim wasn’t in the room anymore? He felt nothing and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it.
Soon, Martin reentered the room. Jon wasn’t sure how long he was staring at the paper, but Martin was back now, so he put the paper down and listened.
“Okay, I brought some sandwiches.” There was the sound of a plate being placed down on the table. Jon didn’t want to take it while Martin was still looking, so he stayed still under the desk. “Do… do you want me to leave?”
Did he? He didn’t want Martin to see him, but he didn’t want to be alone. Jon quietly and slowly moved his hand to knock once on the wood above him. Martin seemed surprised. He heard the man sit down again on the other side of the desk and he quickly reached up to grab his food.
“Okay. Well. Was your day okay? Besides the whole… you know, Tim thing…” Jon took a bite of his sandwich and thought about the question. It was calm. Lonely. Quiet. He tapped twice on the wood. “Lovely! My day was actually great! I got some new wool to knit with and-- ah… you probably don’t want to hear me ramble…” Jon knocked once on the wood. He was mostly hesitant in his knocks but this one was definite. “Oh! Uhm, well…”
And Martin started to calmly talk about his day and Jon, for the first time in a while, felt nice. A bit more in control. He ate his sandwiches in silence. This is nice.