Chapter Text
Something changed with Jon when he got the promotion to Head Archivist. Everyone including Jon knew that Sasha had far more experience than him and that she would have been a much more capable archivist. Elias had other ideas apparently.
Elias called Jon to his office one day and made polite conversation for a minute before telling him why’d he asked for him. Gertrude Robinson would no longer be working at the Institute and they needed to fill the space of Head Archivist, and the person filling that space would be Jon. Maybe Jon should have been excited, but he’d been shocked and confused. He knew that the position should have gone to Sasha, but Elias was his boss. He had to have a reason for giving the position to Jon, right? Or was it just a sexist decision? Either way, Jon said yes. What else could he have said?
Things changed after that.
Jon dove headfirst into the new work he now had: a disorganized mess that the previous Head Archivist had left. It was hard to find anything and at the beginning, it was hard for Jon to focus on it all without getting a headache. He was working harder than he’d ever worked before, determined to see that he was capable of the position he’d been given. He worked longer hours and didn’t talk as much with the others unless he needed something. Oftentimes he was simply exhausted by the time he returned to his flat and just went to bed, and when he woke up it’d be time for him to shower and go back to work.
One day, maybe two weeks into working as the Head Archivist, he was filing some statements when he heard laughter. He peeked around the corner of the shelf he was hidden behind and saw Tim and Sasha near their desks. They weren’t doing anything really. Sasha had just come in and still had her coat on and Tim held two cups in his hands, presumably for Sasha and himself. They were both smiling; just talking and greeting each other on the brisk morning that it’d been. Jon stepped back behind the shelf with the statements with a small smile despite his chest feeling heavy.
He didn’t have time and…
He wondered if they were mad at him if Sasha was mad at him.
He missed his friends. He’d never had many friends ever really, but…
His head dropped, his chin touching his chest as he breathed deeply and slowly let it all out. He couldn’t do this. This job wasn’t his. He grit his teeth anxiously at having to confront his boss about it, but it’d only been two weeks and Jon was only barely treading his own in all the work the position of Head Archivist required.
Jon hadn’t even knocked on the closed door when Elias’s voice said from inside, “Come in.”
Jon’s pulse quickened. Did he know why he was there? How’d he know that he was there? Had he heard his footsteps approaching? Was the door really that thin?
Jon pushed open the door and found Elias behind his desk, typing on his computer.
“Close the door, Jon.” Jon did as he said and went to stand in front of Elias’ desk. Elias finished what he was doing and looked up from his computer. “What can I do for you, Jon?”
Jon bit his lip, trying to remember the exact words he’d rehearsed before going up there. “I’d like to talk to you about stepping down as Head Archivist,” he said, and when Elias stayed quiet, he continued. “Sasha is much more prepared and has more experience that would make her a more suitable candidate for the position of Head Archivist.”
“Are you saying that I picked wrong?” Elias asked.
Elias stared at him, his throat caught on his breath. “I-”
“Jon,” Elias started, and Jon grit his teeth, holding himself still. “I take careful consideration in choosing employees to work at this institute. I take great care in who I give positions to work in this place and in the event that an employee’s time here is terminated, it is my decision as to who fills that role. I chose you because I know that you’re capable of doing what I need you to do as the Archivist. Do you understand?”
Jon nodded almost without thinking. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Elias smiled. “I know you won’t disappoint me,” he said and went back to typing on his computer.
Jon stood there for a moment before realizing that he was supposed to leave then and walked out of Elias’ office, closing the door on his way out. He stood right there in front of Elias’ office for a moment, his mind rushing to figure out what to do. His chest started growing tighter and the rushing in his head got faster. A drink, he thought. He needed to settle down and figure out what to do next.
He went straight to the breakroom where he found Martin making tea with multiple mugs out on the counter, steam pouring out of them. Martin must have heard him because he turned around and smiled when he saw Jon.
“Hello, Jon. I’ve made tea if you’d like some.”
Jon nodded. “Yes, actually.” Jon walked closer and Martin handed him a warm cup of milky tea. “Thank you, Martin."
“It’s no problem at all.”
Jon took a tentative sip from the mug, the steam washing over his face. He turned around without another word and went back to his office, closing the door behind him.
Jon lost track of the days after that. He threw himself into work, desperately trying to keep afloat in the mess of statements and research that always surrounded him. He brought statements home and often worked through his breaks. He didn’t realize that he’d been sleeping less until he looked up from a statement one night at his flat and saw that it was two in the morning. He came in later than he’d meant to the next day and legitimately ran into Tim who said that he looked like hell.
“Are you all right?” he’d asked after a moment.
Jon just said, “I’m fine. I just have a lot of work to do.” and had been on his way.
“Hey, Boss. I found some of those statements you wanted.”
Jon looked up despite knowing that voice all too well. Tim walked into his office holding a couple of small folders and Jon found himself internally sighing a bit of relief at the size of the folders. He nodded. “Thank you, Tim. Uh-” Jon looked around at his desk littered in piles of statements and folders. He bit his lip as he started shuffling through a pile. Tim put the folders he’d brought down on a pile on Jon’s desk as Jon pulled out a few folders and handed them to Tim. “These files are all from the eighteen-hundreds.”
Tim took the files, staring at him for a moment. “All right. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Just- We must have a pile for that time period. Just put them there.”
“All right.”
No matter how much work they put into this, how many hours Jon stayed awake working on the Archives, it still remained a colossal mess. The stacks on Jon’s desk never went down and in fact, they only grew. Jon’s door was always shut in an effort to have some bit of control.
It had to have been a few weeks later when Jon found himself standing at his own desk. He must have stood quickly, as a few papers fell off his desk and drifted to the floor. He just stared at those papers lying on the floor. He had to pick those up. Instead, his hands both came up to his face as his breaths started to come more rapidly. He covered his face, his eyes closed, trying to relax. He inhaled deeply, trying to slow his breaths, but after a few moments, he realized that it wasn’t working. He dragged his hands over his face, letting them fall at his sides. His blood felt like it was boiling and his skin tingled.
Why couldn’t he do this right? What was he doing wrong?
He leaned forward and in a moment, dozens of folders and even more statements were on the floor. All the folders had fallen open and now his office floor was covered in a flood of papers that he needed to pick up and reorganize. His breaths came quicker and he thought he should sit down. He sat down on the cold floor, his back up to the wall. His head fell into his hands, his knees pulled up near his chest.
There was a knock on the door and Jon recognized Sasha’s voice, but he didn’t answer, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He couldn’t let anyone see himself like this.
You’re wrong, Elias , he thought. I can’t do this.
Jon listened to the door slowly open, but he kept his head in his hands.
Christ. What is she going to think of him?
“Jon?”
Jon realized he’d started to rock himself back and forth when he heard her voice. The door closed and Jon grit his teeth, making himself hold still while he looked up at Sasha who looked concerned.
“Jon, what happened?”
Jon took a minute and looked at the sea of papers and folders between himself and Sasha. “Some things fell.”
“I can see that.” She glanced around the room before her eyes came to rest on him again and Jon wished that she would look anywhere else. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” came the pre-recorded response before he even thought about it. He watched Sasha walk around his desk and sit down beside him.
“Jon, you’re not okay. What happened. Jon?”
Jon felt his eyes start to sting and grew furious with himself. His breaths started to rile up again and his skin started to tremble as he scratched his arm.
“You should be Archivist, not me,” he blurted out, and all of a sudden he found himself spilling everything he’d never said out loud. “Everyone knows it and I told Elias as such because I can’t do this job, I just can’t. I’m not experienced enough, I don’t know what I’m doing. I try to be a good boss, but now everyone hates me because I don't know what I’m doing and everyone knows it and everyone knows that you should be the boss.” When he stopped talking, his breaths were shallow and many and he felt light-headed. He felt his eyes sting and hated himself for it.
“Jon,” Sasha started calmly, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m not prepared and I’m not experienced. I’m not in my thirties, I’m in my twenties still and I- I can’t do this, Sasha.”
Jon still wasn’t looking at her, but he saw her move out of his peripheral vision and froze when he felt her arms wrap around him and heard her quiet voice. He might have stopped breathing for a moment. This felt different. What did it feel like?
“No one hates you, Jon. No one hates you,” she said, and Jon felt tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Elias may be a piece of sexist shit, but you aren’t,” she continued. “You’re doing your best with this situation that you’ve been put in and that’s all anyone can ask of you. Yeah, you’ve gotten to be a bit of a prick and a shut-in, but you’re trying.” She pulled back and Jon found himself wishing that she wouldn’t, that she’d keep her arms protectively wrapped around him. She looked him in the eyes. “Let people help you. Let us help you.” She smiled. “You have assistants for a reason you know.”
A small smirk of his own followed hers. She was just holding his hands now, but Jon desperately hoped that she wouldn’t let go, that she wouldn’t leave him. His head still spun and his chest was clamped tightly and he was confused, but someone was holding his hands. It’d been years since someone had held his hands like this, had been there through one of his panic attacks. He felt her grip loosening and in a moment of sheer panic he blurted out, “Please don’t leave.”
Sasha stopped and stared at him and Jon didn’t look away. He could feel the tears leaving his eyes, but he thought it might be awkward if he let go of Sasha’s hand to wipe them away before trying to hold her hand again.
“I can stay,” she said, and Jon felt his chest loosen a bit. “What about some tea?” she suggested with a smile.
Jon managed a teary smile back, slowly nodding his head. “Do you think Martin would be okay with making some more tea?”
Sasha let out a small laugh. “I think he’d be more than happy to make some tea. Come on.” She slowly stood up, helping Jon get to his feet as well, and led him to his chair where he sat down and took her hands back. “I’m just going to ask Martin,” she said, walking back around to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Jon nodded and watched the door open and close. He put his head down on his desk, trying to think through everything that had just happened with Sasha, but mostly he thought about how nice her hug had been. He hadn’t had that kind of contact since- well, since university; since Georgie.