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“It is going to take me a long, long time to organise this mess. I’ve managed to secure the services of two researchers to assist me. Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.” Jon’s initial dislike of Martin was due to the fact he had been assigned when Jon had only planned on having two researchers. His incompetence didn’t make itself known immediately, although the staring did. Jon had always been overly conscious of when he was being watched, and he had the feeling far too often around Martin. His discomfort at the potential reasons only encouraged his professional dislike of the man.
It’s not that Jon didn’t understand sexual attraction. He understood it perfectly fine on a theoretical level. He was happy to let Tim seduce his way into obtaining evidence for their archives. Jon just didn’t understand why anyone would ever be attracted to him specifically. Jon didn’t want that, especially not at work, where he already felt seen all the time.
Martin’s time wherein he was living in the Archives occurred out of necessity, but Jon would be lying if he claimed he didn’t feel eyes on him more often during that short period. Martin was attracted to Jon, that much Jon could tell even without Tim’s ribbing or Sasha’s pointed suggestions that the two ought to get lunch together so they’d both remember to eat.
The world began falling apart and Jon’s feelings about Martin’s feelings didn’t matter. Jon’s reasons for pretending not to believe in the supernatural mattered.“Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched. I… I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like… like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will… know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer.” Whether Martin was a ghost mattered. He wasn’t.
Jon was traumatized. He couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t be next. He couldn’t trust his own judgment, not with Elias as his boss and worms having eaten half his leg. He could trust statement givers like Helen, but then he let her be eaten by Michael’s door right before Michael, whatever he was, stabbed Jon.
Tim still cared about Jon at least somewhat. Enough to ask if he was in trouble.
“You don’t have a problem with the police, do you, Tim?”
“Well, you do know I’m the finest cat burglar in all of Bromley.”
“Tim.”
“Okay, so seriously, I don’t get why she keeps coming back ‘round here outside of the investigation.”
“She’s, uhhh. I’m - I’m helping her with some of the investigation. Off the record.”
“Oh. Ohhh.” Tim’s knowing look formed a pit in Jon’s stomach. He’d given Tim those looks before, when Tim’s escapades helped their cases, but he never wanted to be on the receiving end of assumptions like that.
He couldn’t rectify the error. “It’s really not like that.” Jon wouldn’t believe himself if he didn’t know better, considering how sex-obsessed the rest of humanity seemed.
Do you even know they’re lying to you? The words floated through Jon’s mind as he obtained the tape from Basira, wondering if the reason Tim assumed Basira was sleeping with him was because Basira had those feelings. Jon didn’t want to, but images of Basira naked, forcing him to touch her, Jon would never - they entered his mind and only recording another statement would make them leave. Replacing thoughts of sex with near death experiences isn’t what most people would do, but, well, Jon always was an oddball.
“No, no – the hot one. He has scars like you, but kind of manages to pull them off –”
“Yes, Tim .”
“Yeah, what’s his deal? He gave me the weirdest grin when I came in just now and like… the thumbs up?”
“I… I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“No?”
Jon sighed, loathing even giving Basira the idea, but he told her. “He thinks we’re sort of… together?”
“Oh – Oh. Oh, no. You know I’m no –”
“Yeah I know, me neither, he just got it in his head –”
“– I mean you’re nice and all –”
“– yes – yes, no, I feel the same way.”
Basira was a professional colleague, but she had no problems allowing Tim to believe a lie, so Jon agreed to as well. He didn’t trust Tim, didn’t trust anyone, but the thought of being perceived as sexual sickened him.
Martin had heard the gossip Tim began spreading, as did Sasha. Sasha was preoccupied with her own new beau, but Martin occasionally shot Jon sad glances when he thought the other was too involved in work to notice, usually when delivering tea. Jon did notice, of course. A man as suspicious as Jon noticed every unwanted glance in his direction, scared he would die as Gertrude had before him, but now the fears sometimes took a different form. Martin’s eyes would pierce through Jon’s defenses, and Jon would feel an invisible touch he sternly reminded himself wasn’t real.
Still, Jon had more important worries. Martin was lying about something, and Jon lost his temper.
“It was in the old document room, just next to where you used to sleep. Your handwriting. ‘If the others find out I’ve been lying’ – lying about what , Martin?” The answer turned out to be his CV, and Jon was pleased to hear it. Not that he was happy Martin obtained his job without proper credentials, but the alternatives were worse. Still, Martin’s crush nauseated Jon to think about, and it was becoming harder to ignore the intrusive thoughts that the larger man wanted Jon sexually, that Jon would inevitably end up being used sexually regardless of his own wants, that - Jon’s thoughts spiraled, almost like Michael’s knife had infected him with something. Almost as if Michael’s invisible hands touched Jon, made him believe untrue things about his coworkers, like they wouldn’t respect his desire to not - to not .
Only maybe Jon deserved this torment - after all, he was still suspicious of Tim, even after Tim broke down. "Anything! Anything that wasn’t turning into a paranoid lunatic would have been fine! Anything that showed you could actually do your job!"
"I couldn't. I can't. I don't - none of us signed up for this, Tim, and I'm sorry. I should have been fired. It's not even necessarily that I'm scared you'll kill me, I'm just-" Jon cut himself off. He would only sound more like a paranoid lunatic.
"Just what?" Tim wasn't going to let that statement be the end of it. Jon needed therapy he refused to get, so this might be - Tim was furious with himself but he still cared about his old friend from research, even though Jon clearly couldn't care less about him. "Just what, Jon? What are you so fucking scared of that means you can't have any sympathy whatsoever for me, you know, the guy you once saw as a friend?!" Tim's fury wasn't making Jon's task of verbalizing his fear any easier.
"Can we maybe - go for a walk? Leave the Institute?” Tim nodded. Jon led the way, leaving his office, the overcast sky and movement a welcome change from the unforgiving lights of the Archives.
Tim still watched Jon, expecting an answer to his question, so Jon gave it. “Sex. You saw me and Basira and made assumptions, Martin looks at me with this wounded puppy expression, and I just - I'm scared that you think about me like that even though I have no right to be considering I'm worse, I think you could potentially be a murderer, except I don't really think that, but this - this fear just won't leave me the hell alone and I can't stop feeling someone touching me even though nobody's there, which I think could be Sasha's Michael only he wasn't invisible before so maybe I'm just actually insane."
"We work at the Magnus Institute; you didn't think to talk to your coworkers about something possibly supernatural happening to you? Ask Sasha about Michael?"
"Tried. She's being cagey and won't talk to me since I looked through her desk - don't look at me, I know it was unreasonable and wrong of me. I just hate feeling so - so helpless."
"Well, you're not. You're not alone either. I can talk to Martin about making his crush less obvious since you're clearly uncomfortable with it."
"You - thank you Tim. I'm sorry. You're not going to kill me." The fear might. Jon realized this was the first time he had had a respectful conversation with Tim in months. He was a terrible friend. “Is it - when you assumed Bastia and I were - did you imagine it? Or was it just by implication that you inferred it.”
“The latter. You are the last person I want to imagine having sex, boss. Like, you are not my type at all.”
“But I am Martin’s.”
“Well, yeah, that’s - yes. Like I said, I can talk to him.”
“But - would - he would never - ” Jon found it hard to breathe as he realized his fear had a basis. Unreasonable, un-Martin-like, but not unfathomable. He thought out the sentence entirely: he would never force me to be what he wants, right? He would never sexually assault me, right? That’s not a question Jon could ask Tim. That’s not a fair question to ask anyone. Besides, Jon would never get an honest response, he knew that from the many many people who promised they wouldn’t but then did. Jon’s anxiety was spiking as his thoughts circled this unwelcome avenue for the umteenth time. Tim tried to calm Jon, but touch was usually how he helped his friends and that clearly made it worse.
“No, don’t - Tim please, don’t touch me - ” Tim’s arms were up in surrender.
“I’m not. I’m nowhere near you, boss man. Just breathe slower, you’re going to pass out.” Jon wouldn’t mind that, he thought as Martin was approaching the two, back from his lunch break.
“Jon! Tim! It’s nice to see you two getting along again, what’s - Jon? Jon, what’s -” Tim physically prevented Martin from touching their increasingly distressed boss.
“Jon’s having some anxiety and does not want to be touched right now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sure you are. You probably want me like this; you probably made me feel like this so when you finally act I’ll have anticipated it for so long that I won’t do anything to stop you.” Jon didn’t sound like himself. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound human.
“What? Jon, I -”
“Do you think about me sexually?” Jon asked, unaware that he was compelling an answer from his unwitting employee.
“Yes, sometimes. I try not to. Especially when I learned about you and Basira, I couldn’t stop thinking - well, I knew you would never feel that way about me so I tried to avoid thinking about it.”
“Would you ever act on those feelings?” Jon’s eyes darted between Martin, who was confused as to why he felt the compulsion to answer questions and Tim, who was admittedly somewhat amused by his high strung boss questioning his friend about his sexual desires. This was the type of typical fun they no longer had the luxury of indulging in at The Magnus Institute.
“Yes.” Martin shut his mouth audibly, his teeth clicking with the force of it. Had he been in control, he would not have answered.
“Should I be worried that you’ll - should I - why would you still have feelings about me when you know I’ll never feel that way about you?”
“Emotions aren’t rational, Jon!” Tim was tempted to hit his boss with the bluntness that question held. Martin kept his mouth shut, scared he couldn’t control what might happen if he spoke.
“You wouldn’t - you wouldn’t - if I was not in a relationship with Basira, would you try to flirt with me?”
Martin nodded. Jon pressed his luck. He had to know; the anxiety that Martin secretly wanted him for that kept the words falling out into the air. “Would you try to have a sexual relationship with me?” Again a nod. Jon’s pulse raced as he asked what he truly needed to know. “Even if I didn’t want that?”
“What the fuck, Jon!” Tim gave into his earlier urge and did swat his boss this time; the man stayed completely still. Martin’s hands sweat with the effort of resisting what was pulling at his mind, powers Jon didn’t even know he possessed yet still driving this anxiety induced train wreck. Tim’s anger on Martin’s behalf expressed itself. “You can’t just accuse your colleagues of wanting to rape you!”
Jon couldn’t listen to Tim when Martin clearly was actively resisting the urge to answer his question. Jon tried again. “Martin Blackwood, can you honestly say you’ve never thought about this?”
“No! Of course I’ve thought about it; we work at the Magnus Institute! If one of the artifacts makes our inhibitions disappear, I can’t necessarily promise that I wouldn’t jump your bones - I’d try to resist it, but as you can tell by my attempts to resist whatever it is compelling me to answer your questions, I’m not great at protecting myself from the supernatural. My encounter with Jane Prentiss can speak for that as well.”
Jon remembered Daisy’s threat, how he had remarked that her breaking his bones wasn’t the worst that could be done to them, and Jon ran. Jon just ran away from his coworkers, leaving a bewildered, embarrassed, horrified Martin, a concerned Tim torn between the two of them, and Sasha still at the Archives completely oblivious to her boss’ breakdown.
Jon texted Martin, aware he was better at writing than speaking.
I’m sorry that I questioned you about personal matters in public. I’m asexual, and have been struggling with intrusive thoughts regarding your feelings for me, but it was unfair of me to ask you that. I’m not mad at you; you’re probably right that Artifact Storage could alter your ability to control yourself. I just need some space right now.
Martin texted back a thumbs up emoji. The next time Jon saw Michael, Michael had kidnapped Tim and Martin, and personal matters didn’t get to be addressed.