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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf

kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3 All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.

It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.

No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.

Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.

Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not.

It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.

“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”

Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.

“Seriously? We’re not children-”

Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”

Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”

Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”

“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”

“You sing?”

“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”

Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”

Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”

“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”

“Dare, always dare.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”

“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”

“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it.

Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”

“I don’t have his number-”

“I do-”

“Sasha!”

“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”

Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.

“And then it’ll come down on me-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”

“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.

“Wait, that’s mine-”

The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.

In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time.

Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.

“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”

“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.

“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”

“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”

“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”

Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.

“Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”

“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”

“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him.

Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.

What. The. Fuck.

_____

“The leg bit was a nice touch.”

“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.

“Thought you were trying to climb me.”

“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”

“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?”

Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out.

“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”

“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”

“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck.

“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”

And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #fluff #kiss prompts #i have a little backstory to how they got together in this one that maybe one day i will write #but heres a lil something something #jonmartin secret dating is fun okay #v enjoyable #jaybirdsfall #reblogs appreciated <3

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 53: Sasha

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“No.” Basira’s voice manages to sound matter-of-fact and authoritative despite being muffled by Sasha’s shoulder blades.

Sasha groans and rolls forward to slap at her alarm clock. “Well, you don’t have to get up, but I have work today.”

“Ugh. I should. I really need to start looking into getting a new job, but…” Basira sighs and flops back against the pillows. “Think I’ll wait until this whole…thing is done. Might be hard to get time off to go chasing down killer mannequins in a taxidermy shop.”

Sasha grumbles wordlessly, then gets up to start getting dressed.

She follows the smell of coffee and something sweet into the kitchen, where she finds Wade standing at the stove. Sasha’s never been much for cooking—she’s eaten more homemade meals in the last year than she has in the preceding nine put together—and her kitchen isn’t well-stocked, but she laid in a supply of the basics after work on Friday in anticipation of her uncle coming home, and she’d tried to make something for him yesterday. Seeing him standing there trying to cook himself is at once unexpected and familiar.

He looks up and smiles at her. “Good morning, sunshine,” he teases her.

“Morning,” Sasha mumbles. She pours herself a cup of coffee, sweetens it automatically, and downs about half of it in a single gulp, at which point she feels human enough to give her uncle a smile and a hug.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Wade hugs her back with one arm, then flicks his wrist and flips the pancake he’s cooking into the air before catching it neatly. “Still got it. Your friend doesn’t eat bacon, right?”

Sasha tries not to be embarrassed. She’s a grown woman and this is her flat, and Wade has made it clear he respects her and her choices and she’s allowed to do whatever the hell she wants, but she’s still got the same feeling she had when she was sixteen and he nonchalantly asked if her boyfriend wanted eggs or if he’d already escaped out her bedroom window. “Right.”

“Well then, these are almost ready. Would you rather eat at the table or standing around like a bunch of twenty-somethings in a bad sitcom?”

“I’ll set the table.”

Basira comes out just as Wade is plating the last of the pancakes and greets him with no trace of discomfort; Sasha envies her for that ability to stay calm and unruffled. As they eat, Sasha asks her uncle, “What are you planning to do today?”

Wade looks pleased. “Actually, I have an interview at nine. A gentleman wrote me last week and said he thought there was a position I might be qualified for. I—I suppose he has an eye out for upcoming releases that might have skills he needs.”

There’s a hesitancy there, and Sasha is almost tired enough to give into the static and reach for his secret, but stops herself at the last minute. “You’ll have to tell me all about it after work. Or I can call you at lunch.”

“I’d like that.” Wade grins.

Basira leaves with Sasha twenty minutes later. While she’s in less need of coffee than usual, thanks to her uncle actually making a pot—she really ought to get a programmable coffee maker, but she’s never managed to get around to it—she has a routine and she doesn’t want to break it now. They ride together until Basira has to get off to change trains; she pats Sasha’s shoulder, wishes her luck, and vanishes.

Melanie arrives at about the same time Sasha does, from the other direction but also clutching her usual cup of coffee. When they get down, Tim is having an apparently good-natured argument with Jon about whether he needs help getting his jacket off over the cast while Martin makes the first tea of the day. He glances over his shoulder with a smile that looks a tad strained at the edges. “Morning. How’s your uncle, Sash?”

Sasha returns the smile. “Settling in remarkably well, all things considered. He’s even already got an interview for a job. Seems excited about it. How was your weekend?”

“Quiet,” Martin says after a brief pause.

“Tim didn’t wrap your room in tinfoil or staple all your furniture to the ceiling?” Sasha teases.

Tim holds up his casted hand. “With this?”

Sasha laughs. “Fair point.”

Martin smiles again as he sets a cup down in front of Tim and hands another to Jon. “Seriously, it was a good weekend. Charlie’s birthday was yesterday, so…”

“He came over and helped us with his cake,” Jon tells her. His eyes light up the way they usually do when he talks about the little boy. “Martin found one of those old-fashioned hand-crank ice-cream makers somewhere, and it still works, so we made ice cream, too. Spent the rest of the evening playing board games.”

“Betrayal at the House on the Hill,” Tim supplies.

Melanie frowns. “How old is this kid? Nine?”

“Eight,” all three of the boys say in unison.

“Good. Start ‘em young.” Melanie thumps down in her chair. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Jon’s smile fades. “Honestly…I think we need to focus on the usual work today. Statements, filing…all of that. I’d—I’d like to have things as much in order as we can, before…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish. They have a location—Melanie’s been doing a lot of poking around, using skills she honed during her Ghost Hunt UK days, and managed to confirm that the Unknowing will be taking place at a museum called the House of Wax in Great Yarmouth. They have a time; Melanie and Tim’s combined efforts have led them all to estimate the ritual will be going off sometime on the sixth of April, God alone knows why. They even have something approaching a plan, which is a novelty. Actually, they have two plans, sort of. Now all they have to do is…wait.

Sasha hates waiting.

She gives it a go, though. It’s all busywork, it’s a way of marking time, but she knows it means something to Jon, and subsequently she knows it means something to Martin and Tim. Honestly, the three of them are obviously stupid in love with each other, it’s borderline ridiculous. It’s also kind of touching, watching them together—the gentle touches, the small acts of service, the wordless communications, the way they lean into one another when they’re sitting together. The fear on their faces when one of them is hurt or in danger, the relief when one comes home safe and sound, the smiles when they think the others aren’t looking. Add Charlie into the mix and they’re an absolute mess of domesticity and sap.

They’re also scared shitless about what’s going to happen on Thursday night, and she doesn’t need the Eye’s power to see that they’re afraid of losing one another, so if squaring away files they’ve been neglecting will make them feel better, she’ll suck it up and do it.

The four assistants work away at their cluster of desks in more or less silence; Jon’s in his office, but the door is propped open. He’s recording, judging by the rise and fall of his voice, but Sasha guesses they aren’t real statements or he’d have it closed. They’ve all been working away for a couple hours when the Archives phone rings.

“Not it,” Martin says without looking up.

“Not it,” Tim and Sasha say in unison.

“I hate you all,” Melanie claims and picks up the phone. “Archives.”

She leans back in her chair, twirling the cord around her finger and looking for all the world like a teenager from every single nineties sitcom Sasha ever watched talking to her best friend or boyfriend, except that her expression is one of utter disgust. “Yeah. Okay. Yes, sir.” Her Doc Martens thump onto the floor as she leans forward to hang it up.

“Let me guess,” Tim says dryly. “Elias?”

“Yeah. Wants to see all of us in his office, ASAP. He says it’s important.” Melanie’s voice drips with contempt.

Martin sighs and scrapes his chair back. “Jon?” he calls.

Jon appears in the doorway of his office. “I heard. Let’s get this over with.”

They all trudge their way upstairs. Rosie gives them her usual bland, pleasant smile and asks about Tim’s hand, then announces them to Elias and ushers them in. Sasha starts slightly when they walk in to find Basira and Daisy standing there, Basira with her arms folded over her chest and an expression of faint annoyance and Daisy with her hands in her pockets and a look of utter disgust. Elias is watching with that smarmy, oily smile of his that makes Sasha want to set his hair on fire and see how long he’ll burn, like a cheap kerosene lamp.

“Thank you, Rosie, I’ll call if we need you,” he tells Rosie.

“Of course, Mr. Bouchard.” Rosie backs out of the room—reluctantly, to Sasha’s eyes—and pulls the door shut behind her.

There’s a brief pause before Elias speaks. “Thank you all for coming.”

Sasha sighs impatiently. She’s not the only one; they all make various noises of frustration and annoyance. Is Elias even capable of talking like a normal human being anymore, or is he deliberately playing up the Evil Overlord trope? Jon’s lips press into a thin line before he says, “Well, you said it was important.”

Elias flicks his gaze over to Basira and Daisy. “I’m glad you could come as well. I don’t want to take up too much of your valuable—”

“What do you want?” Jon interrupts, sounding tired and annoyed. Sasha sees Martin’s hand twitch and silently wills him and Tim both to keep it together. The last thing they need is for Elias to know the depth of their feelings for one another.

“To help,” Elias says pleasantly. “Do you have your recorder running?”

“Of course he does,” Melanie says, sounding unimpressed.

“I…” Jon looks down at his hand, as if he’s just realized he’s holding the official Archives recorder. “Yes.”

“Well, then, I’ll speak clearly,” Elias says. He folds his hands on his desk and meets Jon’s eyes. “You will soon be attempting to stop something few have witnessed and fewer still have survived.”

“Not alone,” Jon says quietly.

“We’re, um—” Basira shoots a sideways glance at Sasha, her expression hard to read. “I think we’re all going.”

“Yes.” Elias doesn’t look all that happy about that, to be honest. “And I believe your plan—ah, simplistic as it may be—does have a reasonable chance of working.”

“Well, thank you.” Jon’s voice is dry as the Sahara, but Sasha sees him stiffen slightly. They’ve known all along that Elias probably knows more about what they’re planning than they want him to, but to hear him confirm it…

“It should work. It doesn’t need to be fancy,” Daisy growls.

“Well, quite. But given that there is every likelihood that one or more of you may end up confronting the Stranger in a rather direct manner, I thought it best you have an idea of what you might encounter.”

Jon and Martin both throw identical quick, pained looks in Tim’s direction; Tim doesn’t seem to notice. Sasha sighs. “Oh.”

Elias reaches into a drawer—not, Sasha notes, the one containing his gun. If his gun is still in there. “Detective Tonner was kind enough to bring me Gertrude’s tapes, as soon as her superiors released them.”

Startled, Sasha turns to look at Daisy. Basira, too, is looking at her with raised eyebrows. Daisy ignores them both. Jon doesn’t look at her. “Of course they did.”

“There is one I feel it may be wise for you to hear. All of you,” Elias adds, his gaze sliding over Tim and Martin in particular—or is that Sasha’s imagination? He places a loaded tape recorder on his desk. “May I?”

There’s a chorus of sighs and groans. Elias is really laying it on thick. “Fine,” Tim mutters.

Elias presses Play.

Sasha feels the familiar sensation of the statement flowing through her. Like with every other one of Gertrude’s tapes she’s listened to, it’s not as satisfying as most and doesn’t fill her as thoroughly as even an older statement. She’s always assumed that it’s because it’s more…regurgitated, that it’s empty calories in a way, but with what she knows now, she wonders if it’s just that more of the energy from Gertrude’s tapes goes to Martin. If their family connection makes their connection through the Eye stronger as well.

She banishes the thought ruthlessly from her mind and listens. She’s heard of Wolfgang von Kempelen and his Mechanical Turk, of course. One of her papers in uni was on the history of automata and artificial intelligence, so of course she’s heard of it. At least those details that are known to the general public…

Suddenly, with a jolt, it occurs to her that she knows where this statement is going, where it ends up. At first she thinks it’s the Eye granting her knowledge, but then, suddenly, she remembers a conversation with Gertrude Robinson she had once regarding the papers she’d included in her portfolio when she first applied at the Institute, including the one mentioning the Mechanical Turk, and she remembers a later conversation where Gertrude asked her to come down to the Archives and spent an hour picking her brains for everything she remembered from her research, then handed her a letter and said I thought this might interest you, my dear.

She’d been flattered. Gertrude didn’t call anyone my dear.

The tape clicks off, almost making her leap out of her skin. There’s a beat of silence before Jon says, slowly, “Right.”

“Is that it?” Basira demands.

“It’s unlikely to be identical. The stranger is not known for its…consistency.” Elias stows the recorder away.

“But something like that?” Basira presses. Sasha’s come to know her well over the last few months and she knows Basira likes facts, good solid things she can sink her teeth into. She doesn’t do well with maybes and we-hopes. “We can’t trust what we see.”

Elias nods sagely. “The familiar may seem strange, the strange familiar.”

“One long category error,” Sasha muses.

“Well, isn’t—I mean, that’s what the Stranger wants, isn’t it,” Martin says. It’s not a question. “For us to doubt everything.”

Jon brushes his fingers against Martin’s for the briefest of seconds. Sasha hopes Elias hasn’t seen, but at the same time, what can he do about it at this point? “No one ever said it was going to be easy.”

Which is true. The Primes have never underestimated the danger they’re going to be in. Elias looks pleased. “Brilliant. I have been doing my best to prepare you, Jon, to see. You should have an easier time of it than the others.”

“I doubt that,” Jon says, a bit acerbically.

Elias eyes the four assistants skeptically. “Well, it should, I hope, give you an edge. Otherwise I would never suggest you going yourself.”

You are such a terrible liar, Sasha thinks but doesn’t say. Aloud, she says, “Well, I guess we’ll all find out, won’t we?”

“No,” Elias says. “I understand you will be taking Detective Tonner and Basira with you?”

“We’re going with them,” Daisy growls, and the rewording speaks volumes.

“Quite. Then honestly, Jon, I think you have all you need. Your…assistants should remain here.”

“Wh-what?” Martin sputters. “No, no, we can help—”

“Too many will attract attention,” Elias says. “And while I know your team have been…acquiring abilities, shall we say, none of them are on your level, and Melanie doesn’t even have that.”

“Melanie was planning to stay behind anyway,” Melanie says with false brightness and gritted teeth.

Elias nods as if this was all his idea. “And of course, Sasha, I would expect you wouldn’t want to risk death or…worse. Especially now.”

At those words, Sasha freezes and her blood runs cold. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your uncle seems to be settling in well. I’d imagine he’ll do well here, but of course you wouldn’t want him to worry.”

Sasha’s eyes widen. “What. Do. You. Mean.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Elias’s smile broadens. “Well. I certainly wouldn’t want to steal his thunder, so to speak. But nevertheless, I should think the last thing you would want to do is worry him, or risk leaving him so soon.”

Sasha hasn’t been planning on staying…but honestly, she’ll be a liability if she goes, she rationalizes, and even if he’s being a smarmy arse about it, Elias isn’t necessarily wrong. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“So the five of us—” Tim begins.

“No,” Jon says firmly. “Elias is right, it’s going to be—I can’t put you all at risk like that. It’s too dangerous.”

“Tough,” Tim says bluntly, his face tight with anger. “We’re not risking you. You don’t want to take all of us, fine, but you’re not going alone. Either Martin goes or I do.”

“I…” Jon looks stuck. Sasha bites the inside of her cheek. So far this has been going exactly according to plan, but she doesn’t think Tim is faking that anger. She files that away to ask him about later.

Martin puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I—I think you’re right, Jon. I’d be more of a—I’ll stay behind. But please take Tim.”

“I’m not sure how much help Tim will be with his hand in a cast,” Elias says with a raised eyebrow.

Jon’s lips thin. “I will take that under advisement.”

“Fine.” Elias appears to give up the fight. Sasha doesn’t trust it. “Now, unless there was anything else…?”

“Not if—no,” Jon says finally.

“Excellent. Well, it’s a three-hour trip up to Great Yarmouth,” Elias tells them. “When do you plan to leave?”

“We think the ritual is going to be Thursday,” Jon answers.

“Perfect. I’ll be in touch with you on Wednesday to confirm the arrangements.” Elias beams. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and they all file out quietly. Rosie watches them in undisguised interest as they pass her desk, but they leave the office and head down the stairs in total silence, Daisy and Basira accompanying them.

The second the door to the Archives closes behind them, Basira asks, “Do you think he bought it?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Martin says, flicking his eyes towards the trapdoor.

Jon nods. “Do, ah—can you two come back later? Say around four?”

“I’m off today,” Daisy growls.

“R-right. Right. We’ll…reconvene then. Go over the plan one last time. Confirm a few last scheduling details. Thank you.” Jon manages a smile, then turns to Tim and Sasha. “In that case, I’m sorry to have delayed you two so long, but you can go ahead and get your lunch.”

Sasha’s a bit startled. She’s honestly lost track of time. “I’m not actually hungry right now, but thanks, Jon. I’ll just keep working. Someone else can go.”

“It’s Monday,” Martin points out. His cerulean eyes are wide with worry—almost fear. “You and Tim always go to lunch on Mondays.”

Sasha’s about to remind him of all the times they didn’t take their lunch together when Tim nods and takes her elbow with his good hand. “That’s right, it is. Feels like it’s been a week this morning. C’mon, Sash, let’s go.”

“O-oh! Sure,” Sasha says, surprised. She grabs her jacket off the back of the chair and follows Tim out the door.

It’s a nice, moderate day, exactly Sasha’s kind of weather. There’s a fish and chips shop just across the nearest footbridge they usually go to on Mondays, and they walk in an unusually charged silence. Sasha waits until they’re settled at the table opposite one another before she says, “You didn’t forget it was Monday.”

“You were going to duck out,” Tim counters.

“I didn’t realize you needed this so much.”

“I don’t necessarily. It’s routine, though. It’s a ritual. That’s important to him.” Tim’s face softens. “When Jon left for Beijing…Martin told me he and his dad had this ritual they used to do the night before he left on a voyage, and the last time his dad left, he fell asleep in the middle of it. And then his dad didn’t come back. I guess he’s a little superstitious, but I’m not going to argue with him. It matters to him. So yeah, if it helps him feel like we’ve done everything we can to make sure this goes off successfully, I’ll go to lunch with my best friend.” He gives her a pretty good impression of his signature cheeky grin. “It’s a sacrifice, but I’ll manage.”

Sasha flicks a fallen bit of batter at him, pinging it off his cheek. “Arse. Well, then, while I’ve got you as a captive audience—what’s wrong?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Sash?”

“Yes. I’m keeping my eyes firmly inside my own head and out of yours, so I don’t know what you’re actually thinking. And you’re impossible to read. Also, I don’t think you were altogether acting in Elias’s office.” Sasha points a chip at Tim, then pops it into her mouth. “So. Spill.”

Tim sighs. All traces of false mirth disappear from his face. “Just…can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course,” Sasha says, a bit bewildered.

“Look after them for me, will you?” Tim evidently sees the look of confusion on her face, because he elaborates. “Jon and Martin. Wh—if I don’t come back from this, if I die—”

“I thought the plan wasn’t going to have you anywhere near the actual ritual.”

“The timing on the—we’ll have to talk it over with Daisy, but I think it’s going to be tight. There’s a risk I’ll be bringing the building down on my head,” Tim says. “It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. It’s worth it if it keeps them safe. Just promise me that if it does happen, you’ll look after them for me. I-I’m sure they’ll be fine without me.”

“The hell they will.” Sasha sets her packet of fish and chips down on the table a little harder than necessary. “Tim, I don’t need the Beholder to know how you three are, it’s as plain as the nose on your face. It will devastate them if they lose you. Just like it would devastate you to lose them.”

Tim looks away. “It’s not the same.”

“It’s exactly the same! They’re not going to let you go in there with a death wish.”

“I don’t want to die, Sasha,” Tim explodes. At least he’s keeping his voice down. “I’m just saying, if I do…please. Just…just make sure they’re okay. Make sure they don’t…break.”

Sasha doesn’t want to, she really doesn’t, but she also knows this is important to Tim, so she nods. “If that happens…I promise I’ll do my best for them.”

Tim relaxes. “Thank you.”

“But,” Sasha stresses, “you have to promise to do your best to live. Especially if, as I strongly suspect, you’re not discussing this with them. Because I swear to God, Timothy Stoker, if you die I will be telling them that we had this talk, and I’m sure you don’t want them furious with you.”

“Duly noted.” Tim grins, but doesn’t meet her eyes.

Sasha is about to push him when her phone rings. A quick glance at the display screen, and she flinches. “Sorry, Tim, this is Uncle Wade. I’ve got to take this.”

“Go ahead.” Tim breaks off a piece of cod and stuffs it in his mouth.

Sasha thumbs the CALL button. “Uncle Wade, hi, I’m so sorry, I was going to call you but—”

“It’s fine, it all worked out.” Wade sounds like he’s barely keeping a lid on his emotions. “I only just got out myself.”

“Of your interview?”

“No, no, that—that was over hours ago. Sasha, I got the job! He hired me on the spot. We did all the onboarding paperwork then and there, and I actually got to start today. I’ve been spending the last couple hours getting set up, learning the ropes, all that sort of thing.” Wade says all of this in an excited rush she hasn’t heard from him since she was thirteen. “Someone just popped in to let me know I could go take a lunch break. I just got so into it I forgot about food. I was hoping you’d be on your lunch break and I could talk to you.”

Sasha smiles, relieved. Her uncle’s adjusting to freedom a lot better than she had feared he would, and it’s good to hear him so much like the man she remembers. “That’s great! What are you going to be doing? Where do you work?”

“You are talking,” Wade says proudly, “to the Executive Director of Information and Operations Technology at the Magnus Institute.”

“So your job title is the E-DIOT?” Sasha teases, and then her mind catches up to the last part of what he’s just said. “The Magnus Institute?”

Tim snorts his drink out of his nose. Wade still sounds delighted. “It surprised me, too. Did you know the Institute doesn’t have a proper tech department? I mean, of course you do, you’ve worked there seven years now. But yes. Mr. Bouchard wrote me last week saying that he knew I was getting ready to be released from prison and that he’d very much like to interview me about the position. He wants me to integrate all the systems in the building, troubleshoot programs and technology, that sort of thing. It’s just me for right now, but once I give him a list of what needs to be done and what resources I’d need to do it, I might have a staff to work with. We’ll see.”

“That’s…that’s wonderful, Uncle Wade.” Sasha can’t bring herself to dampen his enthusiasm by pointing out how terrifying an organization this is.

“I know it’s a bit—I know what you’ve told me about the Institute,” Wade says, as if he’s reading her mind. “But quite honestly, in my position, I can’t afford to be all that choosy about a job. The pay’s good. The pay’s great. He’s offering me way above the industry standard. And to just walk out of prison and walk straight into a high-paying position? In my field?” His voice softens. “Plus, I get to work with you. That’s worth a lot to me.”

“And to me,” Sasha says. She smiles warmly. “So what’s your next step?”

“This afternoon I’m going to start going round the different departments, talk to the heads and staff and whatnot, figure out what they need in terms of tech. What they need as an isolated system, what it would help to have integrated with what other departments.”

“Brilliant! Definitely come by the Archives today. I want you to meet the rest of my family.” Before it’s too late, Sasha adds mentally. “We’ve got a meeting at four, but—”

“Say no more. I’ll be there at three, how’s that?”

“Sounds good. See you then. I love you, Uncle Wade.”

“Love you too, Puddle-Duck.” Wade pauses. “And don’t worry. I won’t call you that in front of your friends.”

Sasha laughs and hangs up.

Tim watches her seriously. “He was interviewing at the Institute? Is that what Elias meant?”

“More than that. He’s already been hired.” Sasha rubs a hand over her face. “Guess that’s as good a reason as any to stay back. At least I won’t be in any danger. Probably.”

“You’ll be fine.” Tim knocks back the last of his drink. “C’mon, finish up and we’ll head back. Loads to do before we save the world.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #death mention #emotional manipulation #gaslighting #slight suicidal ideation #prison mention

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