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Out of everyone working in the Archives, Tim had known Jon the longest. When Tim had first joined The Magnus Institute as a new researcher, with his heart still bleeding from Danny’s death, he hadn’t planned on making friends. His only goal had been to find answers and to get revenge for his brother’s death. But on his first day, Tim had seen Jonathan Sims slip into the breakroom, his eyes down and head held low, as he tried to avoid attention. Tim had heard the whispers and gossip from the other employees. He knew what they said about Jonathan Sims. He knew what they thought about Jonathan Sims. Jon was The Institute’s biggest skeptic and Tim had come looking for answers to the supernatural that Jon didn’t even believe in.
But Tim couldn’t help but want to be friends.
He soon found himself working hard to get in Jon’s good graces. Hard work and dedication seemed to be Jon’s love language and, after five years in a publishing house, Tim was used to hard work and long hours. He stayed late and came in early, when he could, to help with the graduate students’ papers and researchers’ pet projects. He lent a helping hand whenever he could. He stood up for Jon in the breakroom to the other employees when Jon wasn’t there to defend himself.
The progress was slow and almost unnoticeable. Tim thought it was like trying to lure a stray cat into a house. Every time Tim thought he had a breakthrough, Jon put up more walls and pulled away. He seemed just as determined as Tim had been originally to not make friends.
Eventually, though, the stray cat that was Jonathan Sims came inside. Tim had earned a genuine compliment from Jon on one of his reports. After that, it was easier between the two. Jon had laughed at all of Tim’s poor “Dad Jokes.” Jon had agreed to eat lunch with him. Tim had earned Jon’s hard-won trust, and Jon’s hard exterior had broken down.
Then Tim met Sasha James.
The two hit it off together instantly. Sasha loved to joke and laugh, and Tim loved the feeling of making others smile. And Sasha was just as dedicated to her work as Jon was to his. It didn’t take long after meeting her for Tim to realize that Jon and Sasha would get along well. It took even less time for Jon to grow fond of Sasha.
After that, it was the three of them spending early Monday mornings at work and late nights at the pub on Friday night and lazy Sunday afternoons at Tim’s flat together.
And that bleeding wound where Danny had been ripped from Tim’s chest had begun to heal.
Jon was quick-tempered and sharp with his tongue but cared deeply for his friends. Sasha was knowledgeable and curious but loved to pull practical jokes. And Tim had his own little family again.
All of that changed when Jon had been offered the promotion to the Head Archivist position. Jon had given them the news over pints at the pub that Friday night, asking Tim and Sasha to join him as his assistants. Sasha had smiled and congratulated Jon on the offer. Tim had bought the next round and made a toast to Jon’s new job. But in private, Sasha had complained and ranted and yelled to Tim how it hadn’t been fair, how could Jonathan Sims have been given the position when Sasha had worked at The Institute longer. “He doesn’t even believe in this shit!” Sasha had yelled.
Their little family had changed: Jon wasn’t an equal anymore, he was their boss. Everything in Tim’s life had changed again.
And without telling any of them, Elias had given Martin Blackwood the third assistant position. Martin had been thrown into the mix and, after “The Dog Incident,” Jon made his displeasure for this stranger known.
It had been only a month and things between the four of them seemed to only be getting worse. The statements, the Real Statements, left them all feeling drained and anxious. Even though they had evidence, Jon still refused to accept that any of the encounters in the statements could be real. He went as far as to create ridiculous scenarios to try to explain them away.
And Jon had been getting worse.
Tim had seen Jon at his lowest. More than once, Tim had to calm Jon after waking up in the middle of the night, screaming from a nightmare and disoriented from waking up in Tim’s flat. Back in Research, Tim had seen his own dark, tired eyes reflected at him from Jon. But it had gotten worse. Jon had started working long hours, even longer hours than his time in Research. The dark circles under his eyes had only grown larger and dark. He had started to lose weight, his cheeks growing gaunt and his eyes sunken. And when alone, Jon held himself smaller, hunching his shoulders in as if trying to shield himself. It seemed like Jon was at the beginning of a spiral that Tim had already been down, and he didn’t know how to help.
Now, Jonathan Sims was running late.
And Jonathan Sims never ran late.
Tim had been blankly staring at the same page of the statement he had been working on all morning, unable to understand what he had just read. Instead, he found himself anxiously glancing at his phone screen every few minutes to check the time. As the morning dragged on, and Jon still hadn’t arrived to work, Tim found it harder and harder to focus on anything else. He was trying to be discrete about it. Tim had caught a concerned glance from Sasha more than once that morning. Every time, Tim had flashed her a reflexive grin before trying to look occupied with his work.
There wasn’t anything to worry about.
Jon was fine.
In all the time that Tim had known Jon, Jon had not been late for work without giving an advance notice. Jon had a daily routine that he liked to follow. He arrived early to gather the assistants’ assignments for the day and to deliver them to their desks. On most days, by the time Tim arrived at a punctual nine o’clock, Jon was already in the middle of a project of his own.
Tim knew he shouldn’t worry. He tried to remind himself that Jon was a grown, competent, adult man.
But Jon had broken his daily routine of the past month.
And Jon had been slipping lately.
It was now half-past eleven and Jon still hadn’t arrived to work.
Martin walked back into the assistants’ bullpen, balancing three cups of tea. Sasha took hers, giving Martin a quick “thank you” and a small smile as she turned back to her own work. Martin handed Tim his cup slowly, a look of concern spreading across his face as he looked to the old clock hanging on the wall.
“Is Jon in yet? I haven’t seen him all morning,” Martin asked.
“Not yet,” Tim said, taking a sip of tea. “I guess that means you haven’t heard from him yet either, then?”
Martin shook his head. “I doubt he would call me first, anyway,” he said, rubbing his thumb in circles around the cup. Martin glanced over to Sasha, “Have you heard from him? Did he say anything to you?”
Sasha sighed, looking up from her work. “Nope. I’d have let you both know, anyway, Martin.”
“I know you would, but…” Martin paused for a minute, looking between the two of them. “This is weird, right? Jon not being in. I thought he had a reputation about not missing work. Did Rosie leave a message that he called off?”
Tim shook his head. “I ran up to ask her earlier on my break and she said she hadn’t heard from him. Elias hadn’t said anything either. It’s nothing to worry about, he probably got caught on the Underground or something and doesn’t have any service.”
Sasha let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, if something bad had happened, letting Elias know would probably be the first thing Jon did. At the very least, just so we’d all know he wouldn’t be at work.”
Martin didn’t look convinced though. He frowned, his round face pulled into worried lines, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. “I…I guess I’m just on edge. Those statements, the ones that don’t record properly, they make my skin crawl. I had to start doing research for the Vittery case this morning and, ya know,” Martin made a face, like he had just tasted something sour.
Sasha glanced at Tim, meeting his eyes for only a moment before she turned back to Martin. “Yeah, we know,” she said. “But Jon hasn’t gotten himself into anything spooky, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” Tim said, trying to make his voice light. “He’d probably give a lecture to any monsters about how they don’t exist. He’d logic his way out of any trouble.”
“Do you think we shou-” Martin started to ask, when the heavy oak door of the Archives slammed into the wall, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing around the quiet Archives. A few moments later, Jon had rounded the corner, looking haggard and worn. He was wet, scowling as he peeled off his sodden jacket and hung it up to dry on the coat rack near the entrance to the Archives. Strands of dark, wet hair, usually neatly combed, were plastered to the sides of his face, with a few curly wisps sticking up at odd angles. His glasses were smudged with raindrops and his cheeks flushed. He was breathing heavily from running.
“Jon!” Martin said, his voice high and tight. Jon shot him a glare, opening his mouth for a retort.
Before he could say anything, Tim cut in. “We’ve been worried. You alright, Boss?”
“Martin’s just made tea,” Sasha added, holding up her cup to demonstrate. “It’s really good today, you look like you could use a cup.” Sasha gave Martin a pointed look. He jumped up nodding, slipping past Jon to the breakroom.
Jon let out a huff of air at watching Martin go and started for his office. Before he could get there, Tim stretched out an arm to stop him. Not touching him, Tim never touched him; Jon did not like to be touched. “Seriously, Jon. Take a seat and have a cup of tea. You look like you need it, it seems like you’ve had a morning.”
Jon glared at Tim, his whole body tensing as Jon’s chest puffed up. Shit, wrong words, Stoker. Before Tim could try to put the fire out, Jon sighed, pulling his glasses off and running a hand down his face. “Yes, alright,” he said, sounding tired. “That sounds nice.”
Tim smiled, grabbing a chair from the empty desk, and pushing it over to Jon. Jon had begun to run his fingers through his hair, trying to bring it back to some semblance of tidiness and professionalism. “Lay your earthly woes upon us, Boss.”
Martin came back, handing Jon a steaming cup of tea. Jon took a small sip and let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about being late this morning. I…I was in Bournemouth this weekend. I had planned to be back in London last night, but there was a delay with my train, and it was delayed until this morning. Th-there weren’t any buses leaving last night, either so I had to take a train this morning, and with morning commuters, it had taken longer than I had planned. I was taking the Underground back from the station, and of course, you know how that can be, and I didn’t have any service.” Jon took a quick breath before taking a long drink from his cup, his glasses fogging from the heat of the tea. “I hope I didn’t cause any delays in your schedules.”
Sasha shook her head, “We all were just working on the projects you gave us on Friday. But what were you doing in Bournemouth this weekend? It’s a little too early in the season to be going to the beach.”
“Oh,” Jon said, adjusting his glasses. “I…I was raised in Bournemouth.”
“Have a fun family weekend, then?” Tim asked, elbowing Jon’s side.
“Uh, act-actually,” Jon stammered, his face flushing ever darker than before, “I was in Bournemouth for a church service.” He swallowed, looking down at his shoes. “It…the anniversary of my parents’ passing was this weekend. My grandmother always liked to attend their memorial mass. And, well, now that she’s gone too, it didn’t feel right to…to not go.”
The Archives fell silent. “Oh,” Tim said flatly. “Oh, Jon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Jon shook his head, taking another sip of his tea. “It’s alright. I don’t really tell anyone. I don’t really tell anyone because I know how they all act. I was too young when they died to really remember either of them. How can you miss something you don’t remember, right? But I know it always meant a lot to my grandmother, so I still try to make it to their service every year. And hers as well, of course. I’m the only one left, so someone has to do it.”
“You,” Sasha started, looking at Jon with an unreadable expression on her face, “You don’t have any other family?”
Jon looked over at her, his shoulders stiffening. “No, it’s just me now.” Martin made a choked noise, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth as he turned away. “It’s fine,” Jon said, his voice growing harder as he looked to Martin, sitting up straighter, his shoulders curving in slightly. “I’ve been on my own for a while now. And I’m certainly not looking to be pitied.”
“I wasn’t-” Martin began, but Jon cut him off as he got to his feet.
“That’s enough. I have work to finish, as do the rest of you. Martin, I want the research for case #0150409 on my desk by the end of the day. Sasha, I want you to try and get into contact with Mrs. Rosswood from case #0110711. And Tim, I want you to keep working on the statement I gave you last week.” Before any of them could stop him, Jon had placed his half-drank cup of tea on Tim’s desk and had hurried into his office, the door slamming shut behind him.
After their conversation that morning, Jon hadn’t come out of his office for the rest of the day. Tim had offered to stay late, to make sure that Jon went home. When seven o’clock had come and gone, and Jon was still in his office, Tim gently knocked on the door. “Jon,” he called, hoping for an answer. The office was quiet; Jon wasn’t recording a statement. “Hey, it’s getting late. You want to walk out together?”
There was a moment of silence before Tim heard the scrape of Jon’s chair against the stone floor. In a moment, the door to the office pulled open, Jon peeking his head around the corner. Tim didn’t know what he expected Jon to look like after an entire day in his office, but Jon looked fine. Normal. Like nothing had happened at all that day. “I’m sorry, Tim,” Jon said. “I need to finish looking over these reports for Elias before I go home. You should get going.”
“Are you sure?” Tim asked, keeping his voice quiet. It was just the two of them in The Archives. Tim could hear the clock in the assistants’ bullpen ticking loudly. “I don’t mind waiting, or if you need any help, I could lend a hand?”
Jon shook his head, talking a half-step backward as he began to push the door close. “No, it’s alright Tim. There’s nothing about it that you can help me with. I just need some time to finish it. I had planned to finish them this morning, but well, you see how that went. Good night, Tim.” Jon closed the door.
“Night, Jon,” Tim said. He got ready to leave slowly in case Jon had changed his mind. Tim dragged his feet as much as he could but, eventually, he had to give in that Jon wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon. “Night!” Tim called loudly, with his foot on the first step out of The Archives. He hoped Jon would shout back for Tim to wait, that he was coming, and the two could walk to the Underground together, like they had done back in research. But the office was quiet. Tim let out a sigh, turning and walking up the stairs alone, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. Life in The Institute wasn’t as simple as it used to be.
Tim arrived at The Archives early the next morning, cursing under his breath as he pushed open the heavy, wooden door to the basement. He was balancing a carrier tray full of Styrofoam cups of tea and a brown paper bag filled with muffins and bagels from the cafe on the corner that Sasha enjoys, and praying that he wouldn’t spill anything.
Tim headed straight for the breakroom, gently placing the carrier tray on the sticky plastic table. Tim debated for a moment before grabbing a muffin from the bag and heading back to the bullpen. He hadn’t planned on arriving so early, but he thought he would have to wait in line at the cafe for breakfast and planned to leave his flat early.
He wanted to talk to Jon about yesterday. Tim wanted to talk to Jon to make sure he was alright, that he wasn’t slipping, and that he knew that he had friends. That even if Sasha was upset that she hadn’t been given the Head Archivist position that she still liked Jon. That Tim was there to support him. And even Martin wanted to help.
Jon had been pulling away more and more and Tim was afraid that soon it’d be too late to get him back. Had they been back in Research, if Jon had told either him or Sasha about his parents and grandmother, Jon would have been invited back to Tim’s to spend the night, just so he didn’t have to sit with his thoughts alone. Tim knew what that was like, to grieve alone. And Jon was grieving; he had snapped back at all of them so quickly, Tim knew him well enough to know he was deflecting. And Tim decided that having a treat for breakfast when everyone arrived to work might help to soften Jon up.
Tim sat at the breakroom table, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone as he waited for the others to arrive. Martin came first, looking surprised at Tim’s earlier arrival, and then Sasha. Tim asked each of them to stay in the breakroom with him instead of sitting at their desks and explained his plan. They were going to show Jon just how much they cared. Tim wanted this conversation sooner rather than later.
As nine o’clock approached, and Jon still hadn’t arrived, Tim started to get nervous. He was thinking about trying to call Jon, when Jon walked into the breakroom, two files in his hands. He looked surprised, his dark eyes growing large at seeing the three assistants in the breakroom and not at their desks. Tim hadn’t seen Jon arrive and hadn’t heard him all morning. Tim didn’t think Jon was stealthy enough to make it past all three of them without being noticed, but then Tim realized that Jon was still wearing the same outfit from the day before. “Jon,” Tim said, seriously. “Did you sleep here last night?”
Jon fidgeted for a moment before leveling his glare at Tim. “Good morning to you as well, Tim. Yes, I did. There is a cot in document storage that I used. It was too late last night after finishing my work for me to justify going home, so I simply stayed. Now, if you’re all finished with your breakfast-”
“We’re not,” Tim said, firmly. “And this breakfast is yours too. Take a seat, let’s chat.”
“Tim,” Jon said, his voice flat. A warning. Jon expected a fight.
“We’re friends, Jon,” Tim pleaded. He wanted Jon to remember the late nights they had spent together in research and the too-early mornings with a hangover after a late night at the bar. Tim’s little family had been falling apart at the seams and he needed Jon to remember what they had been. “You can talk to us.”
Jon shook his head. “Tim, there really isn’t anything to talk about. I don’t understand why you’re so insistent about this?”
“Because obviously you’re hurting,” Martin said softly. “Even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Especially about your parents and grandmother. You hid in your office all day yesterday. That means something is wrong.” Jon bristled, pulling himself up to bite back, but Martin continued. “It isn’t healthy to just keep feelings bottled up. And you don’t have to talk to me, or well any of us, but if you want to, all of us are here to listen.” Sasha nodded, giving Jon a smile.
Jon looked between the three of them. Tim had made sure that their little intervention was in the breakroom so that Jon didn’t feel cornered. It was even ground and Jon could run if he wanted. But Jon didn’t run. He shifted his weight back and forth, looking uncomfortable. “This,” he started, raising his head to look between the three assistants, “this isn’t a big deal. There are plenty of individuals who have lost their parents or don’t have family left. There are plenty who have it worse than me.”
Sasha nodded, “That might be true. But that doesn’t lessen your pain; that doesn’t stop you from being upset. And you deserve to feel happy, just like they do.”
Jon didn’t take his eyes off Sasha, but he wrapped his arms around his stomach, curling his shoulders in slightly. He looked so small, Tim thought. His glasses had slid down to the tip of his nose, a few wispy strands of gray hair hung loose by his ears. The four stood in silence for a few moments before Jon started to speak again. “I…I was a deeply annoying child.” Martin made a noise of protest, but Jon raised a hand to stop him from talking. “I was, I know I was a…handful, especially for my grandmother. She was my father’s mother and she raised me after my own mother passed. I was so young; I really can’t remember my own parents very well. Just from photos my grandmother showed me and some memories that I genuinely can’t tell whether they were just dreams.
“I missed them, of course. And as long as I can remember, once a year, my grandmother would take me to a church service that was celebrated in their memory and then to visit their graves. It, when I was younger, it all upset me so much. I…I cried through almost every service. And there were other people from town who came to the services. But, well, my memories of my parents started fading and I grew up.
“When we went to the church service, I didn’t cry. I was there more for my grandmother’s sake than anything for myself. And there weren’t as many of our neighbors from town, anymore. It was just me and my grandmother and a few people who attended regularly, they didn’t know my family. It wasn’t even a proper mass, just a small service.
“I…I think I’m…I’m an awful person for feeling like this, but the service never really meant as much to me as it did my grandmother. I’m not very religious; praying never helped me, it never made me feel anything other than foolish. But my grandmother found peace with it. After I moved away, I tried to make it back for the service, but if it didn’t work, I didn’t feel badly about it. But then, my grandmother died and it…it didn’t feel right to not. Like, I was letting all those years of care my grandmother put in go to waste and,” Jon paused, taking in a shaky breath. He had wrapped his arms around his middle and had curled into himself. “It hurts,” Jon said, his voice high-pitched, “that she would put so much care into remembering my parents and not as much into caring about me.” His breath hitched, and Jon doubled over, trying to keep himself from crying. Tim didn’t move. Martin reached out a hand to try and comfort Jon, but Tim brushed him away. Jon didn’t like to be touched, not without his consent.
“And I still went to the service, even though it doesn’t mean anything to me, not like it did for her. And what did I get for it? A writeup from Elias for being late and now the three of you…the three of you, standing here, and…and watching me…”
“The three of us standing here and caring,” Sasha said. “Jon, you aren’t alone. You’ve got the three of us. You’re going to keep having the three of us.”
“Yeah, Boss” Tim said, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re stuck with us. ‘Till death do us part.”
Jon glanced up to Tim, then to Sasha, and finally to Martin. Martin smiled, looking away from Jon’s gaze. “My mum, well, she isn’t always the most…caring person either. I think I know how you feel. But you’re still doing it, I’m sure your grandmother would be proud.”
“And you’re no less of a person for having your own desires from your grandmother,” Sasha said. “You’re okay.”
Jon sniffled, though he still didn’t look convinced. Tim took a hesitant step forward, “Do you want a hug?”
Jon didn’t hesitate before nodding. Tim moved forward, wrapping Jon in his arms, and pulling him against his chest and laying his chin on top of Jon’s head. “More?”
Jon nodded again, pushing himself closer into Tim. Tim laughed, reaching out an arm to invite Sasha and Martin. Sasha swooped in, wrapping herself around Jon’s right side. Martin hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he was invited or not. Jon shifted against Tim, turning his head to look at Martin. Martin took that as his invitation and moved forward, surrounding Jon on his other side. Martin was large, taller than the other three, and his hug enveloped all of them. Jon’s whole body shuddered, and he began to cry. Tim could feel his shoulders shaking as he let go.
“You’re not alone in this,” Tim said, shifting to rub between Jon’s shoulder blades. “Not in The Archives, not outside of The Archives. You’ve got us. Nothing you do is going to chase us away.”
“Our little family of four,” Sasha joked. “Us against the world.”
“Us against the world,” Martin repeated.
The four of them stood there for a while, holding each other, and being held. There were still problems they had to solve, and Tim knew there were still monsters outside, but for a few minutes everything was alright.