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“Martin’s been lying,” Jon hisses as Tim enters his office, and Tim raises an eyebrow. It’s immediately clear that something happened to trigger his paranoia, something involving Martin. It’s been a delicate balancing act, working with Jon to figure out what exactly was going on at the Institute, managing Jon’s (mostly understandable) paranoia, and trying to be a good friend to Martin without telling Jon about his crush. The last has been particularly difficult, because apparently Martin showing affection towards Jon reads to Jon as Martin wanting to hurt him. (Christ, that man needs therapy.)
“You cannot think that Martin killed Gertrude,” Tim says, because Jon has been most preoccupied with the murder of his predecessor, when Tim thinks getting to the bottom of the mystery of the Institute will lead them to Gertrude’s killer. “Martin. The man won’t even kill spiders.”
Jon deflates a bit.
“No, I don’t— Not realistically— but well, he could be involved. An- and if he’s not, the sooner we get to the bottom of it, the sooner we can get back to the real questions.”
“Alright,” Tim concedes, “Yeah, I guess so. What did he lie about?”
Jon unlocks a drawer in his desk, retrieves a crumpled piece of paper that has been smoothed out, and hands it to Tim. Tim glances at it and gives it a skim, a skill from his days in publishing that has served him well at the Institute. Okay, it’s an unfinished letter to Martin’s mother. Says he’s doing well, that his coworkers have been nice to him, and his boss has been surprisingly understanding lately, but he’s worried about what will happen if they find out he’s been lying to them.
“Where did you get this?”
“I found it in document storage, in the bin. Near the cot.” Tim frowns.
“Okay. Well, rubbish is technically fair game, but it still feels a little close to stalking for comfort.”
(After Sasha had caught Jon following her, Tim came to his senses and realized that kind of shit really wasn’t okay. He and Jon had agreed, snooping around the Institute was fine, but following their coworkers in their private lives, at least until they had some actual reason. “If you did something like that to me, I don’t know if I’d ever forgive you,” Tim had said, only half joking, “I think they deserve the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.” Jon had agreed that it would be a bad idea to alienate them until they had real evidence. It wasn’t exactly the point Tim had wanted him to get, but at least he’d agreed to stop.)
“Your concern is noted,” Jon says dryly. Tim nods.
“Okay, he’s been lying. About something. I’ll admit, doesn’t look great, but I highly doubt he’d be confessing his evil plans to his mother.”
“That could just be a way to throw off suspicions,” Jon counters, and Tim considers it.
“I mean, it’s possible, but why leave it in the bin for anyone to find it? Why not dispose of it properly?”
“I don’t know,” Jon admits, and it truly bothers him, not knowing, “But there’s something else too.” Tim gestures for Jon to go on.
“Do you remember Trevor Herbert? The vampire hunter, the tramp?”
“Rings a bell,” Tim replies, “I don’t think I did the follow up for that one.”
“No, Martin did. He told me Trevor died of lung cancer before he was able to give the second half of his statement, but I found his other statement today.” Jon taps one of the pieces of paper on his desk for emphasis. “So, not dead then, clearly. Or at least, he didn’t die when Martin said he did, and I need to know why.”
Another ding against Martin, but Tim really can’t think of a reason for Martin to lie about it. Even if he was involved in some sinister plot, (which Tim highly doubts), what does some possibly dead vampire hunter have to do with it?
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Tim says, “What would he gain by lying about that?”
“I don’t know,” Jon replies, and the frustration seeps into his voice, “That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“So you want to confront him, then?” Tim says.
Jon nods. “Could you send him in here?”
“Hang on,” Tim protests, “I’m not just gonna let you… interrogate Martin on your own.”
“What? Why not?” Jon looks offended.
“Because, I think there’s a good chance this is just a misunderstanding, and you tend to yell at Martin, and he shuts down.”
Tim doesn’t mention that he’s also 95 percent sure that Martin has no intention of hurting Jon, having murdered Gertrude or not. Tim doesn’t think Martin is a good enough actor to fake his infatuation with Jon. That, at the very least, is real. Tim likes to think he’s pretty good at reading people, and Martin seems to genuinely want to take care of Jon. Tim knows that the major source of Jon’s paranoia is the fear that someone will try to kill him too, and sometimes Tim wants to shake him and tell him that he’s probably not that important, but he doesn’t. He knows Jon doesn’t think that highly of himself, and this paranoia isn’t because of his ego. Tim finds himself more afraid that whatever is going on at the Institute will be worse than death.
“I don’t yell at him,” Jon protests, and Tim watches his face as Jon seems to remember each instance where he has yelled at Martin, and then Jon sighs. “Yes, alright, it might be a good idea, having you here.”
“No burning bridges,” Tim reminds him, “Martin’s our friend.” Jon makes an expression that is almost a grimace, and for a moment Tim thinks Jon is going to argue with him, but he doesn’t.
“Okay, we’ll talk to him,” Jon says, “Would you go get him?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Tim leaves Jon’s office and finds Martin at his desk, chewing on a pen and staring at nothing in particular on his computer.
“Hey Marto,” Tim says, and Martin startles.
“Oh, hey Tim,” Martin says. Good thing Jon’s not here, Tim thinks, he’d probably take Martin’s jumpiness as a sure sign of his guilt, when Tim’s pretty sure that’s just a normal human reaction.
“Sorry, you were pretty zoned out there,” Tim says, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Martin replies, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses, “You just— you know how it can be.”
Tim does. The constant feeling of being watched can get overwhelming, and sometimes you just need to shut down. And I’m about to make it worse, Tim thinks.
“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Anyway, Jon wants to see you in his office.”
“Ah,” Martin says, looking down at his desk, “Okay. Now?”
Tim feels a pang of guilt, like he’s leading a lamb to slaughter. But Martin might not be a lamb, the voice inside his head that sounds suspiciously like Jon says. No, this will be fine. Tim will act as a mediator, Martin will prove his innocence, and everything will be fine… He hopes.
“Yeah,” he says, “Sorry.”
Martin looks surprised. “For what?”
Tim gives him a look. “Jon’s been difficult lately, and he’s giving you a hard time, and you really don’t deserve it.”
“Oh. Well, he— he’s been messed up, after the worms, and I…” Martin shrugs.
“We’ve all been going through some stuff,” Tim replies, “Doesn’t give him an excuse to be a dick, and I’ve told him that.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah,” Martin says, and then anxiety flashes over his face, “Oh god, of course, Tim, obviously you’ve been going through stuff too, I didn’t—“
“Martin, don’t worry about it,” Tim says, because Martin really doesn’t know the half of just how messed up they both are. He doesn’t know that Tim and Jon are practically living together, because it’s easier than Jon trying to get to Tim’s flat in the middle of the night after one of them has a nightmare and panic attack. That it feels safer, being together. Martin giving Jon Prentiss’s ashes seemed to help Jon, but Tim found little comfort in it. He knows there are worse things out there than a worm woman, that he’s experienced worse things than almost being eaten by worms. Maybe he’ll tell Jon about Danny one day, but Jon has enough nightmares as it is. Why saddle him with more? “I’m fine. We’re all alive.”
“Yeah,” Martin says in a small voice that says he is very much going to worry about it still.
“Best not keep the boss man waiting,” Tim says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Talking about emotions has never been his strong suit, and not a day goes by that he doesn’t wish that was different.
“Right, yeah,” Martin says as he stands up and starts to head to Jon’s office. Tim follows, and Martin looks at him quizzically.
“You're coming too?” Martin asks.
“Yeah, moral support, y’know?” Tim says, keeping his tone light and hoping Martin will just accept it.
“Tim, I appreciate it, I do, but I can take care of myself, especially when it comes to Jon.” Martin bristles, and Tim realizes that was the wrong thing to say. It takes a lot to upset Martin, but he hates being patronized.
“I know you can,” Tim says, “Believe me, I know you can.”
They reach Jon’s office before Tim can think of a good reason for why he’s going to be part of the conversation without riling Martin up further or sounding suspicious as hell. Just as well, then.
“Come in, Martin,” Jon says from inside, and Martin does, with Tim following close behind. Martin shoots Tim a look, practically begging him to let him deal with it himself, and Tim shrugs apologetically.
“Sit down,” Jon commands, and even Tim is surprised by the venom in his voice.
“What is—?” Martin asks.
“Sit.” Martin does, immediately, and Tim takes the other chair next to him, feeling somewhat like the parent of a problem child at a parent-teacher conference.
“Pull it back a bit, Jon,” Tim mutters, and Jon shoots him a glare. Tim isn’t phased, but when Jon speaks again, his voice is a bit softer. Barely. Martin’s probably still shitting himself.
“Why did you lie to me about Trevor?”
Martin looks absolutely bewildered.
“W-what?” He says, his voice rising in the way it does when he’s flustered.
“Trevor Herbert,” Tim supplies, “The vampire hunter. You told Jon that he died.”
“But, I mean, he did, didn’t he?” Martin replies, looking nervously between Jon and Tim, like he’s realized that Tim is on Jon’s side.
Sorry, Martin, Tim thinks.
“Apparently not,” Jon says, brandishing the other half of Trevor’s statement as proof.
“Oh! Sorry!” Martin says, like it’s just a simple misunderstanding. And it would be, under different circumstances, Tim supposes.
“Sorry?” Jon hisses, and oh Christ, he’s taking it personally, Tim needs to step in, but Martin’s babbling before Tim can say anything.
“I mean, I-I never actually met him, I just heard some of the other researchers mentioning it— I could’ve sworn they said he died. I mean, maybe they just said he looked like death, or something…” Jon scoffs, and Martin looks at him insistently. “I really thought they said he was dead.”
Something about that rings some bells in Tim’s head. He vaguely remembers a researcher talking about a subject keeling over while giving a statement.
“Okay, okay,” Tim says, “So this is just a misunderstanding.” He glances at Jon, who is seething.
“Y-yes,” Martin stammers, once again glancing nervously between Tim and Jon, “Jon, are you alright? You seem to be taking this kind of personally—“
“Because you keep lying to me, Martin!” Jon is nearly shouting.
Martin is completely blindsided by that, and his eyes flash with hurt. This is getting out of hand, becoming exactly what Tim wanted to avoid.
“About what?!” Martin splutters, and Tim stands up, crosses behind Jon’s desk and sits on it, looking at Jon, who refuses to look away from Martin. Tim places a hand on Jon’s arm to ground him, and momentarily feels bad that he can’t do the same for Martin. But Martin’s not been cleared, not yet. so he pushes the feeling away. He gives Jon a look that says, let me handle this.
Tim hands Martin the letter he threw away.
“You tell us,” Tim says. Martin examines it, and he visibly pales.
“Where did you get that? Have you been going through the bin?”
“It was near the cot in document storage. Look, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, but trust is pretty scarce right now, what with there probably being a murderer in our midst. Just- just tell us what you meant by ‘if the others find out I’ve been lying’.”
Martin’s eyes widen.
“Oh- oh god, it’s not— It’s got nothing to do with Gertrude, or anything like that, I swear! It’s just, it’s embarrassing, could you just forget about it, please?”
“We can’t just forget it—“ Jon begins, but Tim cuts him off before he can get a tirade going.
“There’s something wrong with this place, Martin, I know you feel it, and that’s not even including the murder, and no one talks about anything— There are so many secrets, and telling us this will go a long way towards building some trust.”
“Okay, okay,” Martin says after a moment. He looks at Jon. “Just promise you won’t fire me.”
“Fire you?” Jon replies incredulously, and Tim squeezes Jon’s arm. “Fine.”
Martin nods and takes a shaky breath.
“I lied on my CV.”
Oh fuck, Tim thinks. He knew about that. Martin confided in him, told him his biggest secret, and Tim just… Forgot? How did he not make the connection between Martin lying and his CV? Of course that’s what Martin would be lying about! Did he get so wrapped up in Jon’s paranoia that he just assumed the worst? This whole thing could’ve been avoided. And what’s Tim going to say to Martin? ‘Sorry I thought you might be a murderer, I completely forgot about the secret you entrusted me with, I guess I just didn’t trust you.’
And that’s true, Tim realizes. He doesn’t trust Martin. He thinks he used to, but he’s not sure when in the aftermath of worms and quarantine and physical therapy he stopped. He’d told himself he didn’t blame Martin for losing them in the tunnels, but maybe he did. Maybe he does. That’s the part of himself Tim hates, when he knows one thing in his mind, but it can’t change the way he feels.
“What,” Jon says, bringing Tim back to the present. Jon leans towards Martin in that way he does when he’s after a particularly interesting piece of information, all paranoia forgotten, with such an intensity that it scares Tim sometimes. The words spill out of Martin. Maybe it’s better for Jon to hear it from the source, maybe he’ll be more likely to believe him.
“I don’t have a master’s in parapsychology— I don’t even have a degree. When I was 17, my mum— she had some problems and I ended up dropping out of school trying to support us. I tried everything, but no where was hiring, so I just kind of started to lie on my applications, sending them to just about anywhere. For some reason my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias and then a job here. Most of my employment details are made up, I’m only 29!”
“Right,” Jon says, after a moment, “I believe you.” Tim’s mind reels, because he did learn a few things from Martin’s telling Jon, and his more paranoid mind starts making connections he didn’t when Martin first told him.
“Wait wait wait, holy shit,” Tim says, “You’re younger than me? You’re a baby!” Martin splutters something incomprehensible as his face turns red. Focus, Tim. “No, that’s not what I wanted to ask. What was your job interview like? You lied to Elias, to his face? And he believed you?”
“I— well, during the interview I thought for sure he knew I was lying, but then he hired me anyway, so I don’t know!”
“Tim,” Jon says, “Focus.” Tim turns to Jon, mind whirring. Something tells him that Martin is right that Elias did know, but he still hired Martin anyway. Why?
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Elias is suspicious as fuck. This is just more evidence.”
“It’s not exactly earth shattering,” Jon replies, retreading a familiar conversation, “What are his motives? We still don’t know.”
“Sorry— do you think Elias killed Gertrude?” Martin interrupts, his voice cracking.
“Yes,” Tim says, right as Jon says “no.” They glance at each other, and Jon sighs.
“There’s still so much we don’t know,” Jon says, “We can’t say anything one way or another. But I do agree, Elias is shady.” Jon looks pointedly at Tim.
“Right,” Martin says, “Right.” He looks like he wants to say more. His face is a muddled mix of concern, hurt, confusion, and even anger. Tim doesn’t know if he’s ever actually seen Martin properly angry.
Tim feels like a dickhead.
“Sorry for ambushing you, Martin,” Tim says.
“It’s… fine,” Martin says, in a way that means that it is very much NOT fine. “You know what you said about trust goes both ways, right? I was half convinced you both were losing your minds.” He sighs. “I don’t want to intrude on whatever… this is,” Martin gestures to the space between Jon and Tim, “But… You could keep me in the loop.”
Jon has the wherewithal to look sheepish.
“I mean, this affects all of us, not just you two,” Martin adds.
“You’re right, Martin,” Jon says, “I didn’t want to put you in danger by involving you,” and because I didn’t trust you, goes unsaid, “But maybe ignorance isn’t the protection I thought it was.”
“Good,” Martin says firmly, “I’ve been worried about you two. An- and Sasha too, I mean, I think she’s doing okay, but she seems… Different.”
“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Could be the boyfriend. New relationships tend to change things.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he doesn’t think he’s successful. It’s a conversation he and Jon have had many times, late at night, because Sasha was his best friend and now she acts like they’re nothing but coworkers. He’s not sure what’s more painful, that Sasha might be involved in whatever freaky bullshit is going on at the Institute, or that she just dropped Tim like he was nothing.
Martin nods. “I guess you don’t want me to tell her about any of this.”
“No," Jon says, “If you could… keep it to yourself.”
“Sure,” Martin says, and Tim has never heard him sound so unimpressed.
“And I won’t tell Elias. It’ll just be between us.”
“Right,” Martin says, and he stands up. He begins to walk out of the room, but he stops, hand on the handle. “And for the record, I’m not involved in any sinister scheme or anything. Just in case you’re still wondering, figured I’d just put it out there.” Martin is gripping the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles are white. With that, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Shit,” Tim groans. He wants to crumple against Jon, to have Jon hold him, but he knows he shouldn’t, not at work, so he settles for bumping his foot against Jon’s instead.
“Well, it could have gone worse,” Jon says.
Tim laughs. “Not by much.”
“No,” Jon agrees.
“I feel like a complete prick,” Tim sighs. Jon hums in agreement.
“I’m rather relieved, of course, but I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. We’re back to where we were before, no leads.”
Tim agrees with the sentiment, but mostly he’s thinking about the look on Martin’s face as he’d left. “We’ll find something. There’s always the tunnels.” Not that either of them are eager to go exploring again. “I’m more worried about Martin, he seemed pissed.”
“Martin will be fine,” Jon says, but Tim can tell from the way that Jon won’t meet his eyes that he doesn’t mean it, that he’s worried too.