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Jonathan's steps were silent and swift as he made his way through the deserted, dimly lit corridors towards his office. He was not particularly in the mood for conversation, or any human contact, really, and eager to get to the peace and-... well, to the quiet of his archival office. Usually, no one even came in this early, but now that Martin had holed himself up in the archives' panic room for god knows how long after his unfortunate run-in with Prentiss... Well, Jon didn't want to risk running into anybody.
It became apparent that his attempt to stay undetected and unbothered on the brisk walk towards his sanctuary had failed (as it usually did) when Jonathan turned the last corner of the hallway and found himself faced not only with Martin, but another person hanging out in the tea kitchen opposite Jon's office door. Jon rolled his eyes and sighed at the prospect of having to deal with Martin Blackwood and whoever his acquaintance was this early in the day.
The person had his back turned towards Jon, but it looked to be a relatively tall, lanky man, with an unkempt shock of dark, greying hair. It seemed like he was crowding Martin against the counter of the kitchenette, and Jonathan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. As he drew closer, Jonathan got a better look at the two men and he realized to his utmost confusion that they were locked in a tight embrace and kissing passionately.
Jon froze in his steps as he tried to process what was happening before his very eyes, although he had never wanted to see anything less in his life. He had always hated witnessing displays of affection (especially at his place of work), and with Martin, of all people involved… It was a jarring sight, to put it mildly.
The man had Martin half-sitting on the counter, lifting one of Martin's legs slightly so that he could stand between them, and Jon absently worried about the two abandoned tea mugs standing dangerously close to them. Martin's arms came around the strange man's shoulders, holding him close while his clammy, eager hands gripped the fabric of the man's dark blue wool sweater. Jon noticed that Martin was still in his Pyjamas. He’d probably just woken up from another night in the panic room and had gone to get a cup of morning tea when... The man raised one of his hands to cup Martin's flushed face, and Jon caught a glimpse of tongue slipping past Martin's opened lips. Jon cringed when Martin sighed with bliss, and he shifted his gaze to the other man's face.
A weird feeling started to creep up on Jon as he took a closer look at the strange man's features. He had an angular face with a rather hollow look to it – presumably from a lack of sleep or malnutrition. His pale skin was a harsh contrast to the untamed dark grey locks of hair that had fallen into his face. Jon’s gaze froze at the all-too-familiar hairdo. He had spent several minutes starting at it in the mirror and trying to tame it just this morning.
The man’s stray strands hung just short of a pair of silver glasses that looked exactly like his own. The eyes behind them were open. They seemed strangely cold, watching Martin’s face intently while the two kissed. Golden-brown eyes, just like Jon’s.
The realisation of who exactly he was looking at hit Jonathan at the same time as Martin opened his eyes and found not only one, but two Jons staring at him.
„Wh-what the hell?!“
Martin pushed the Jon he had just been kissing away, causing the other Jon to instinctively brace himself against the clone now stumbling back towards him.
„Who the hell is that, Martin?“, Jon shouted, scanning the sparse hallway for any potential make-shift weapons against the imposter while keeping an eye on him. Or it. "And why does it look exactly like me?" And why were you kissing it?, he bit back from asking out loud.
Martin’s wide eyes were flicking between the two Jons in panic. With his back to the kitchen counter, he held his arms out against both of them defensively. “Wh-who is-?? I-I thought that was y-y-… How are you...? Jon, what is going on?!”
Jon could tell that Martin was close to having a complete meltdown, the way his voice and body were shaking, and he had to admit that he wasn’t too far off from losing it himself. It wasn’t every day that you found a perfect copy of yourself getting busy with a co-worker (or the other way around...). The imposter had even cloned his sweater! Jon had only worn it the day before, but he was sure that he’d seen it hanging over a kitchen chair when he had left for work that morning.
As of that moment, the creature was still standing between Martin and him, with its back mostly turned to Jon. It held out its arms to the sides, palms open, trying to appease the man freaking out before it. “Come on now, Martin. You’re smart enough to know that it’s me.”
Hearing his own voice come out of the copy’s mouth ran an ice cold shiver down Jon’s spine and he wanted nothing more than to shut the thing up as quickly as possible. Fortunately, Martin seemed to share his sentiment; the clone having made the wrong move in its attempt to pass itself off as the original Jonathan Sims.
“O-Okay, y-you shut up and get the hell away from me be-before I make you!”, Martin croaked, pointing at the imposter accusingly. “I don’t know who o-or what you are, but you are certainly n-not Jon!” Jonathan wasn’t sure whether he had imagined a certain kind of pain in his voice. The imposter only smiled condescendingly. “Martin, please, just listen to yourself. It’s me, your boss Jon.” The clone took a slow and careful step towards Martin. “I know you Martin, and you know me.” Martin closed his eyes and shook his head, lowering one arm behind his back while holding up the other in a desperate attempt to hold the creature back.
“Get away from him!”, Jon shouted, his searching eyes finally landing on… a forgotten umbrella. Jon scrunched up his face in frustration. Better than nothing, he guessed. At his shout, the clone had turned his head briefly towards him, seemingly reminded of its original’s presence. Jon swallowed thickly when its eerie, mirroring gaze hit him. “Why are you here? What do you want?”, he managed to get out despite his terror. The thing that looked like him had just opened its mouth to say something when a loud cracking and splintering sound tore through the air, accompanied by actual splinters of white porcelain and cold splashes of Earl Grey. The creature’s head whipped right back around to Martin and to the mess of a shattered cup of tea right at its feet, cold tea soaking its pant leg.
“Get. Back.”, Martin panted, glaring at the imposter, his hand already closing around cup #2 on the counter in a white-knuckled grip. Jonathan shook off his own surprise at Martin’s move, and with the clone distracted again he took his chance and quickly slunk over to where the umbrella was still unassumingly leaning against the wall. At least it’s a sturdy one, Jonathan thought as he finally closed a hand around its handle and hid it behind his back.
“Really, Martin?”, the creature hissed, eyes turning wild for the split of a second before it could slip back into its role of the reasonable mediator. “You just kissed me! And now you’re telling me to get back? Throwing tea at me?”, it laughed incredulously. Jon saw Martin wince and shrink back into himself at the imposter-Jon’s words, turning his red face as far away from the real Jon as possible.
“I’m all you ever wanted, Martin.”
The Jon-copy took another step forwards, sensing Martin’s resolve wavering.
“All you’ll ever need!”
A victorious smile. Another step. A gentle hand lifted towards Martin’s cheek.
“I’m the right Jon, Martin. I can lo-”
Teacup #2 was hurled square into the impersonator’s face, followed by a dull crack and splash.
Martin had just ducked out from under the creature’s arms, making a leap for the hallway, when the clone decided to throw his whole body after him with a raging, inhuman scream, limbs flailing and grabbing after him. Jon struck the umbrella out, praying to anyone or anything that would hear it that it wouldn’t break, and made it connect with the clone’s forehead. The momentum of the leaping creature and the hefty swing of the umbrella drove the wooden handle right into the imposter’s skull and left it reeling to the side, finally letting it come to a halt on the kitchen floor. Martin got up and pressed himself flush against the far-off hallway wall, panting and staring at the creature’s unmoving body on the floor with wide eyes. A few silent seconds passed, neither man moving, barely daring to breathe.
“Is it… is it…?”, Martin whispered tensely. John sighed in relief when the creature kept still. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not sure. Can’t really be when I don’t even know what it is, but uhm… it seems to be quite dead, yes.” Jon cautiously stretched one leg out and pushed at the clone’s still body, making it roll over on its back. The change in position seemed to confirm Jon’s assumption: if this humanoid creature lived according to any wordly rules at all, a head wound like that should mean certain death.
They both instinctively recoiled at the sight, but quickly realised that while the imposter’s forehead was sporting a sizeable hole around the umbrella handle, there wasn’t any blood or gore around the wound or on the weapon. When Jon had gathered the courage to make a move and slowly withdraw the umbrella from his clone’s forehead (and don’t question for one second that seeing… himself like that beat everything else Jon had seen that day in its disturbance) he found that it moved easily, like a warm knife slicing through butter. He shuddered and barely kept from gagging, but when the handle was out, it was still pristine. And there wasn’t any blood spilling out from the wound either. Just a few straws of hay poking out from the black, otherwise seemingly hollow cavity of the imposters’ skull.
“H-how…? How is that even possible?”, Martin whined in confusion, leaning his head back against the wall and rubbing his eyes with his palms. “I think I’m losing it.”
Jon chuckled drily. “Yeah… well I suggest you get in line then.”
Martin's face fell at Jon's words and he turned toward him with a pained expression.
“You’re right. I’m so… I’m so, so sorry Jon. You just had to- to kill a literal clone of yourself with a- with a freaking umbrella, and it even had your voice and… a-anyway thank you so m-much for basically saving my life! I mean we don’t even know what this thing w-wanted and why it looked just like you a-and sounded like you but I should have known that it wasn’t you, Jon, I shouldn’t have… oh my god Jon I’m so sorry I should’ve realised that it wasn’t you sooner but I was so stupid, I… I had just woken up i-in the panic room and I-I heard Elias talking to y-you, or I guess n-not you, on the hallway a-and I thought.. I don’t know, I just felt really bad and alone and I know you’re not a m-morning person but I just wanted to say hello so I got up and there y-you were in the kitchen, making tea, and you didn’t even look like I was annoying you, and you'd even made a cup of tea for me cause you knew I’d be up soon and we g-got into talking and-”
“W-wait, wait, wait, Martin. You heard Elias talking to me? To Not-me, I mean?”
“Y-yeah,I guess. I’m pretty sure I heard both of your voices in the hallway before I got up.”
“How sure is ‘pretty sure’, Martin?”
“V-very? L-look Jon, I’m so, so sorry you had to see- Where are you going?”