TMA ONESHOTS

The walls keep tumbling down

It had been just over a week since Jon had fled the Magnus institute with Martin and during that time, he had had a lot of time to think. Had it really been three years since he had been promoted to head archivist? He supposed the six months he had spent in a coma had warped his perspective but he could hardly believe that it really only been three years since he was a researcher. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 1313 days. The information floated across his mind, he hadn't really meant to know but sometimes he swore the eye had a mind of its own.

Jon's gaze fell upon the cardboard box placed upon the table. Basira had dropped it off earlier before the eyepocolypse properly started. It was full of tapes, some had labels, others didn't. All of them were statements to feed the eye. A slight guilt washed over him but it was quickly overpowered by the eye's primal urge to consume them. Martin had left for the little village to try and gather supplies. He'd do one now, while Martin was out. While Martin understood why Jon needed the statements it didn't make him like them any better. All the more reason to do one before he gets back.

He reached out and grabbed the first tape off of the pile, he also collected the recorder which had been left in the box to allow him to listen to them. The statement was unlabelled, an unsuspecting little black cuboid which was undoubtedly filled with the details of the worst day of somebody's life. How was this the life he'd ended up with? Jon had never asked to be the archivist. With a sigh he placed the tape into the recorder and pressed play.
[CLICK]

MARTIN: Careful!
TIM: Shhh!
{A DOOR OPENS}
TIM, SASHA, MARTIN : Surprise!
{A PARTY HORN IS BLOWN}
JON: Jesus!
TIM: Happy birthday boss!

For the next ten minutes the tape washed over Jon, he was unable to stop the recording. He was forced to sit and listen to a simpler time, a happier time. A time before the fears, before all of the trauma. A time where all his friends were alive and happy and he had just brushed them off. Jon sat like this; transfixed against his will until a sharp CLICK sprung from the tape recorder setting him free.

Jon's mind raced as his heart raced within his chest. He could deal with the horrors of the world, with the fears being sprung onto him but this? An old tape from not long after he'd been transferred. Guilt flooded through Jon. What he wouldn't give for a moment like that now. At the time all he had wanted was some peace and quiet, to be left alone. It seems birthday wishes do come true. His heart knocked painfully against his ribs and Jon longed to be with Martin. Martin was all he had left to live for. It was all Elias's fault! He had been perfectly content working as a researcher, he hadn't asked to be transferred. Hadn't asked Elias to make him the Archivist after he murdered Gertrude.

Jon's internal monologue suddenly came screeching to a halt when a realisation threatened to knock him off of his feet: He is the reason Sasha and Tim were dead. When Elias had made him head archivist he had asked that Sasha and Tim transfer with him. He's the reason they were in the archives. He is the reason his friends are dead. If they had stayed in research they might not have died. He wouldn't have been responsible.

A choked sob escaped Jon's lips and he stood suddenly causing the chair he was sitting on to crash to the floor. He backed away from the recorder as if it might bite, guilt overwhelming him. He could barely breathe, each ragged breath was a fight against the pressure crushing his lungs. Jon's shallow breaths came faster and faster as he sank to the floor, back against the wall. Tears were pouring down his pale face and his hands were tangled in his long mess of greying hair. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think. He had spent all this time fighting the monster he had been destined to become just be the monster who killed his friends. Black spots danced in front of his blurred vision while Jon drowned in his guilt. He didn't hear Martin open the front door over the roaring in his ears.

***

Martin entered the safehouse, a few shopping bags in his hands. He was about to shout to tell Jon he was back when his gaze fell upon his boyfriend's quivering mass crouched in the hall. The bags fell from Martin's hands as he rushed to Jon's side. "Jon! Jon, what's wrong?" He enquired, placing a hand onto Jon's shoulder. Agonised sobs and laboured breathing that was all too fast was the only response. Martin fought to keep his calm façade as fear stabbed through his chest, he tightened his grip on Jon's shoulder. "Jon you need to calm down," Martin's voice sounded strained, "You're scaring me Jon!"

Through the mess of his panicked mind Jon registered Martin's words. Reaching out he grasped Martin's hand tightly. When Martin was scared he felt isolated. Lonely. Even Jon's guilt-addled mind could comprehend this as he was not going to lose Martin to the lonely again. He couldn't lose anyone else to the fears, especially not Martin.

***

The pair sat like this until Jon had calmed down. He never let go of Martin, barely ever loosening his grip. Martin needed Jon as his lifeline just as much as Jon needed him. "Can you stand?" asked Martin, his concern still evident. The response Jon gave was little more than a slight nod but it was enough. The pair moved to the sofa, never letting go of each other.

Once he'd gotten Jon sat down upon the sofa, Martin made them both a cup of tea. Upon his return he pulled Jon into his arms and asked if he could tell him what had happened. The room remained silent for some time before Jon drew a shaky breath.

"I started listening to one of the tapes, it was -" He pauses for a second trying to find the right word, "different."

"Oh?" came Martin's response "How so?"

"It was one of us, when I had accidentally recorded when you-" he voice catches, " When you, Tim and Sasha surprised me on my birthday, not long after we all got transferred. After it finished I sort of spiralled and then to add insult to injury I realised I am the reason they're dead." Jon's voice breaks and he makes a noise halfway between a sob and a hollow laugh. "I asked them to transfer with me, I'm the reason they joined the archive. I killed them, Martin. I am a monster."

Martin cradled Jon as fresh tears began to pour down his face anew. "It wasn't your fault, it was Elias' and the Strangers'. Even if they hadn't been killed they'd still be suffering. You've seen what the institute has become. Maybe their deaths were a mercy? You're not a monster Jon, it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault." He paused for a second, "Jon when was the last time you ate? Or slept?"

Martin was met with little more than a shrug
"Jon, you have got to take better care of yourself! I am going to make you some food then you are going to sleep ok?"

Jon sighed, defeated. "Will you stay with me? The whole time? I-" He fights back a sob, "I can't lose you too Martin."

"I promise."

After making Jon food and watching him eat it, Martin stayed right by his side, not moving once. He had always been one to stick to his word and Jon deserved the world.