The Weekend Arrangement

A Defense Against Self-Destruction

Even by the relatively staid parameters of archival work at the Institute, the day had been incredibly slow and boring. Jon had managed to catch up on a solid portion of the piles of statements that littered his desk; and had been ready to call Martin into his office on some flimsy justification only to find Martin isn't at his desk, neither was he in the stacks and Jon wasn't quite willing to go searching the library for him knowing that would be far too suspicious. He thinks about sending Martin a text and sneaking away for a stolen length of time in the breakroom, but stops himself when he remembers that they had already depleted their store of supplies, and he needed to stop by a pharmacy after work. Disappointed; but lacking anything better to do, he starts in on a stack of work he's already certain is not worth his time, but needs to be sorted through regardless.

When Martin comes through the office door and locks it behind him, Jon feels that familiar thrilling shiver until he sees Martin's face. He's sweating and fidgeting nervously, a look Jon hasn't seen from him in months.

"Are you okay? Martin- what's wrong?"

"Jon. I can't come over this weekend. I need some time off as well- the rest of today, tomorrow and maybe all of next week. " Martin's face screws up, and for a second it looks as though he's going to cry.

Jon furrows his brow in concern. "Are you all right? Of course I'll work out whatever time you need. Martin- please tell me what's wrong."

"It's my mother, Jon. She's in hospital again, only this time it's in Blackpool. Knowing her, I've a pretty good guess at why, but cannot fathom why she felt the need to go so far north. I'm so sorry, but I need to take care of this. The woman on the phone mentioned the police as well. I don't know what all is happening yet. I'm so sorry."

Martin looks defeated and small and it doesn't take any time at all for Jon to cross his office for a kiss. The kiss is tender, with none of the usual heat behind it and when Jon pulls away he keeps a hand on Martin's face.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I'll let Tim and Sasha know it's an emergency and we'll work it out. Take all the time you need."

Martin's head drops onto Jon's shoulder as he wraps his arms loosely around him. Jon can feel his breath catch as Martin struggles to hold back tears.

"She ruins everything Jon, every single time my life gets settled or god forbid starts being good - she has to do something like this."

"No, no- Martin she hasn't ruined anything. Go- take care of her. Take care of yourself. I'll be here, waiting for you when you get back."

Martin's arms tighten and when he kisses Jon it feels needy and desperate; like he's trying to store up as much of the care and affection he gets from Jon before facing whatever hell his mother will be putting him through. Jon returns it with almost the same level of desperation, wanting Martin to know that no matter what happens in the north, Jon is here for him at home.

He knew the week without Martin was going to be hard, but Jon was not expecting the breakdown to happen as quickly as it did.

He rubs at the grit in his eyes and tries to read the statement again. It's the third- no the fourth- time he's tried and the words haven't coalesced into anything resembling English yet. Individually, they are all recognizable, but strung together they make no sense.

He's not sleeping at all, not really-and the haze of exhaustion has settled in with a physical weight. Tim and Sasha have definitely noticed something is wrong; Jon is back to short tempered anger at perceived slights and mistakes. He's stayed on the cot behind his office a few nights now, just collapsing in a heap until it was time to stumble out and attempt to work. He's a mess of unbrushed hair and rumpled clothing; and the circles under his eyes have grown so dark he looks like he's been in a fight. He feels like he's been in a fight, everything hurts and he can't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a stretch.