Work Text:
It started as a normal day, or as normal a day you can get working in the Archives.
Jon woke slowly, the clock on his bedside table telling him it was just past 6. Despite that being later than he usually woke up he could barely bring himself to drag his limbs out of bed, a bone deep exhaustion making the simple task of blinking feel like too much.
After brushing his teeth and splashing cold water on his face he was feeling a little more alive, but his brain still felt messy and scattered, like his thoughts were a running river shrouded in fog that made it hard to see clearly.
With a sigh he got dressed.
Jon made his way to work, eyes downcast as he walked through the crowded streets of London, somehow both eager to get to work and filled with dread at the prospect.
He made his way through the lobby, mumbling a barely audible greeting to Rosie as he passed, too tired to muster anything more, and began to make his way down the steps to the basement.
That's when he felt the first strings of anxiety stir in his chest. His breath caught and he coughed, attempting to push away the useless feeling. 'Get a hold of yourself, Sims.' He scolded, stalking through the door to his infernal workplace. He knew it wasn't healthy to keep pushing down these feelings- he could feel the heavy weight of his fears and paranoia in his chest, but the longer he ignored them the better, he couldn’t afford to break down here of all places, especially not now.
Unbidden, the thought of Gertrude’s rotting body floated into his mind and he pushed it away forcefully.
In a slightly faster pace than normal, he sped through the hallways, past his assistants with little more than a nod of greeting and locked himself in his office, the click of the lock feeling oddly final.
Slumping with an exhausted breath in his chair, he sat there for a moment, attempting to calm his racing heart and berating himself for how easily he was spooked these days.
Pushing his hair out of his eyes (he really needed a haircut) he got to work, burying his feelings under a mountain of work until his brain was numbed by the words on the page in front of him.
He was able to continue like that for a while until the muffled slam of a door somewhere else in Institute brought it all rushing back. He jumped and looked around with a start, realising hours had passed. Shifting uncomfortably he tried to get back to work, tried to ignore the way his thoughts raced with anxiety.
What if someone was coming? What if Elias was mad? Or his assistants? Were they coming for him? Was he paranoid? That was a silly question, of course he was, but was his paranoia justified or was he going insane?
As much as he tried his brain simply wouldn’t calm down, and he couldn’t focus with the nervous energy coursing under his skin, making it impossible to sit still, let alone get anything done. He was uncomfortably reminded of the worms, of the way the dug into his skin, squirming and going further deeper-
He gasped, realising he hadn’t taken a full breath for who knows how long. Shaking his head he stood up and began to pace, wringing his hands in an attempt to release the anxiety that gripped him.
This was stupid, what had even caused this? A slamming door? Ridiculous.
Muffled voices passed his office door and he tensed, for a horrible moment he thought they were coming in and there was nowhere out they were coming oh god he couldn't escapehewasstuck-
They passed and he huffed feeling foolish, but the spiking anxiety in his chest didn’t leave, leaving him breathless and shaking.
He started pacing again, this time flapping his hands and not even trying to hide it. Inexplicably he felt a laugh bubbling in his chest, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling slightly hysteric.
Desperate for something to distract himself, he searched frantically through his desk for a statement, finally finding one he hadn’t read yet.
With shaking hands he scanned the description.
‘...Statement of Amy Green and her experience trapped in…’
That was as far as he got before his vision began to blur, his breath coming in gasps at this point.
Trapped he was trapped he couldn’t get out they were coming he was going to die he wasn’t safe never safe couldn’t escaped trapped trappedtrapped-
He collapsed to the group with a thump, hands coming up to cover his ears as if that could stop the flow of thoughts, he whimpered, curling in on himself, feeling more alone than he ever had. He was breathing far faster than normal, his chest rising and falling so quickly he was beginning to feel light-headed, his hands tingly with pins and needles. It was all so loud he was only just able to hear the knocking on his door and-
Wait knocking?
“Jon? Are you ok?”
~~
Martin, as much as he tried to ignore it, couldn’t stop the nagging concern for Jon he had felt ever since the man had walked in earlier this morning. Not only had he come in much later than normal, but he hadn’t even glanced at them! Just nodded vaguely in their direction and made it to his office in record speed, almost like he was… scared?
Martin knew he’d been on edge ever since Prentiss, but this seemed worse, somehow.
He’d tried to bring it up with Sasha and Tim, but Tim had just scowled and said if he needed help he could come and ask for it instead of hiding, and Sasha had shrugged, her frown indicating she was concerned too, but not enough to do anything about it. He knew they were both annoyed with their boss, Prentiss had left him skittish and paranoid and their patience was running thin, finding it easier to blame him for dragging them down here from Research rather than try to talk. Martin had been spending the last few weeks attempting to keep everyone in a good mood and settle any arguments that started, and even he was wearing thin.
But none of that was important, what was important was the loud thump he’d just heard come from his boss’s office.
He frowned, glancing at his coworkers who both seemed to be trying rather obviously to ignore the sound.
With a sigh he stood up, if the others were so determined to be indifferent he would let them, but he was going to check on Jon, whether they liked it or not.
Hesitantly he came to a stop in front of the door, raising a hand to knock and only pausing for a second before lightly tapping the wood.
“Jon? Are you ok?”
No response.
“Jon?”
More silence.
Worry crept up the back of his throat and he debated for a moment before placing his hand on the doorknob, the worst that could happen was a few minutes of annoyed lecturing from his boss.
“I’m coming in ok?”
He slowly opened the door, trying not to startle him if he was just too absorbed in his work to have noticed Martin, but as soon as looked inside he knew something was wrong.
For one Jon wasn’t in his chair, and for another the air was filled with the sound of loud, panting breaths punctuated by small whimpers.
Panicking now, Martin rounded the desk to find Jon curled up in a tight ball in the corner, rocking back and forth and very obviously hyperventilating, scratching frantically at his arms hard enough to rip the skin. He was muttering under his breath but Martin couldn’t catch whatever he was saying, he wondered if even Jon knew, his eyes were squeezed shut and cheeks wet with tears that glistened in the dim lighting.
Trying to make his voice as soft as possible, Martin gently called to his boss, “Jon?”
The smaller man’s eyes flew open and he stared at Martin with pure panic, scrambling to squeeze further into the corner.
“Hey, Hey Jon it’s ok! It’s me, Martin? We’re in the Archives…” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Jon’s breathing hitched again and his face went pale, fingers digging even further into his arms.
“Oh, Jon.. I’m sorry, it’s ok, we’re safe! No one is here except me and you…” He continued to ramble any comforting phrase that came to mind, slowly taking small steps towards the panicking man, trying to give him every opportunity to tell him to stop. Eventually he came to a stop in front of him, crouching down so he didn’t seem too intimidating. Relief flooded through him when he saw Jon’s eyes were beginning to clear, he was still hyperventilating, and his arms were still being scratched raw, but at least he seemed somewhat aware of his surroundings now.
Gently Martin reached out a hand, watching as Jon studied it warily and continuing his ramblings, hoping he was doing this right. “Can I touch you? Only if you’re ok with it! If not I'll stop, I just want you to stop hurting yourself, is that alright?”
Jon glanced down, seeming surprised to notice the marks on his arm and tentatively nodded up at him.
Relieved, Martin took his hands, pulling them away from his arms as gently as he could and squeezing them slightly.
This seemed to calm Jon and he gasped to take a full breath, it took a few tries but eventually he managed to take one, and then another, and then another until finally he fell back into a somewhat normal rhythm. Martin continued rubbing soothing circles on his hands, murmuring encouraging words.
"We're ok, everything is ok, there's no one else here except you and me, I'm here.."
Jon looked up at him for a moment, before throwing himself into Martin's arms, causing the larger man to make a faint oof sound.
"Is this ok?" Jon mumbled, voice raw and scratchy.
Martin didn't respond, just wrapped his arms around his boss in a right hug.
They sat like that for who knows how long, Jon's shaking finally calming down, though his breath still hitched every now and again, and he didn't seem to have any plans of letting go anytime soon.