It turns out my phone has been at home all this time. Elias does not hang around after he drops me off. I plug in my phone and take a cold shower. He leaves the box with me, and I spend the whole night going over the other objects. I know I am going to work soon, but I really need this. I think he knew that. I wonder why he goes cold like that sometimes. He'll be so delicate towards me, and then it's like he does not know what to say to me.
When my phone has a bit of a charge and I am in clothes that hug me, I am ready to see whatever the damage is. Lord. 7 missed calls, and five voicemails from Martin alone. One would think I am Jon! I am so funny. Anyway, another three voicemails from Tim, and so many messages from the both of them.
I listen through all of them. Martin goes from worried about me to panicked and then the most recent messages are about Jon being gone. He is rather upset. I feel a little bad. Sometimes I see a bit of myself in him. The tremble in his voice is not to be ignored. Tim asks where I've gone, if I'm alright, and he complains about the situation with Jon. I need to respond. What to say?
I am so sorry! I'm alright, and I will be back tomorrow. Elias gave me some personal time because of something I am going through. I had my phone off, but I wish I had seen all this sooner. That's so crazy that all that happened! Do you really think Jon did it?
Perfect. Nobody will ask me questions about personal time, and now I have directed the spotlight to Jon.
I toss the button up I wore on the way home into my laundry hamper. It didn't fit me the way my clothes do, but it is a nice shirt, and I should clean it for him. Ding! A text rings out. Is it Martin or Tim I wonder?
Elias
Do you want a ride to the Institute tomorrow?
Helen
Yes, please.
I miss him already. His prolonged absence is going to suck so bad. I am going to be so sad! I have to keep it together. I need to be at resource.
I am penning down my notes on my latest subject when I hear a knock at my door. It's morning already. I hadn't noticed. I open the door to exactly who you would expect, but I still have another hour until work. He gives me a knowing look.
"You're early," I accuse, glancing at the clock. The time did run away from me, however.
"Go shower and change." I worried that things would stop when I went home, and it's like he came here just to reassure me. He wouldn't though. That's too…caring? "I'll grab your things."
"You don't have to," I say, but he is already entering my home with purpose, packing up my stationery.
"Off you go!" When did we get so comfortable? "Shoo!"
I take a brief hot shower, and I come out feeling like I have new skin. I love the cleanliness after a shower. I pick out a button up of my own and a sweater vest for work today. We still have a bit of time before we need to go. Why come so early? "I knew you wouldn't be ready. Is there anything else you need?"
As if I would miss this opportunity. "Other than you?"
He scoffs, and it squeezes my heart. I feel a rainy sadness shift over my face for a moment. He considers me for a moment, but his eyes refuse to meet mine right now. I am a fool I think. Perhaps just a little bit. "Can I fix your collar?"
"Sure," I take a step closer to him.
He tugs and adjusts my collar and unbuttons the very first button of my shirt. "It suits you more to have this one undone," he says. My collarbone peeks out. It isn't anything particularly intimate–at least it shouldn't be–but a heat is blossoming in my face. His eyes are icy hot as he looks into me. What does he see? There is a static tickle that prickles at my forehead. The kind of strange feeling that arises every once in a while, but disappears as soon as you move–like a spectre of a kiss. I almost remember one of those sleepy nights at Elias's. Him seated at my bedside. Strange. How could I have forgotten something like that? Being barely awake and him coaxing me back into dreaming. The memory was far too fragile to be him. It felt more like a waking dream than anything else.
I have so many more questions than answers, and the questions seem to increase exponentially.
"Thank you." I felt like a lifeless doll in pretty clothing in the days with my mother. When I am with him, I feel alive, and I don't need any pretty clothing.
"Ready to go?" He offers me his elbow. I loop my arm through his and we walk to his car. I really do love the way we dance around each other. He spins me so well.
"I do get to sit in the passenger seat," he is opening the passenger door for me, "right?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Unless you would like to be elsewhere." Point made. I am no longer upset about the trunk thing at all actually. I just thought it would be a silly thing to say. I tuck myself into his passenger seat, and it is still adjusted to me from the last time I was in the car.
During the ride to work, Elias tells me where Jon has run off to. I take it that my pursuit of educational materials for Jon starts today. He also tells me that I can just send materials to Jon. As in, I don't have to run it by him. A pity though, I was looking forward to tea.
Martin catches up to me as I am walking through the doors, and Elias splits away from me. When he is a distance away, Martin accosts me in a sharp whisper, "Did you arrive with Elias?" He wants to ask more, I can feel a twinkle in his eye, a curiosity.
"So, Jon's just gone?" The twinkle dims. I have gone and suffocated his excitement.
"Yeah," he sighs, "Nobody really knows where. You might get questioned by Daisy, but she's a little scary." She is going to hate me. I can't wait!
"You're scared of everyone, Martin," my heels click against the floor as I walk and Martin scurries to catch up with me.
He splutters, and I can feel the smallest splash of his spit, "That is not true!" Ew, gag! Elias, Martin is terrorizing me already.
I don't take a turn as Martin anticipates me too, and our paths don't split off as usual. "Aren't you heading to archive storage?"
"Nope," I spin around on my heel, walking backwards so I can face him, "I'm heading to the archives with you, silly!"
His eyes are wide and bright–full of hope still. I imagine they will always have some of that shine. It is nice even if he is a bit naive. "What for?"
"You're down an archivist," I state, "Elias asked me to work in the archives temporarily while Jon is away."
"Do you think he will be back?" That hope centers around Jon. It brightens his whole day. I know what that feels like. Do I look at him like that?
"Of course he will," I feel a touch of empathy for Martin, "You don't seriously think he killed that man, right? Have some faith. He was tweaking, but he isn't violent." Tweaking is an understatement. He'll be fine though!
"You're right. Sorry, you're right." So dramatic. He's such a little thing!
"I know I am," I find my lungs filling with fresh air. The confidence I carry is not a performance at this moment. I can do this.
I get a chance to record a statement today! The power I feel within is different from the usual rush I get with artefacts. It's like waking up groggy but fresh from a nap. The statement itself is one about Peter Lukas. Martin watches me as I record it, looking as if he wants to interrupt me now and again, but I ignore him. This is kind of fun!
Statement ends.
"Yes, Martin?" A part of me wants to search him for answers, but another wants to hold off for now. I shouldn't waste energy knowing him when I can coax answers out of him. I feel fine now, but it honestly was nerve-wracking to feel so weak when I was at Elias's. I am okay now, but I can't help but wonder why.
"You did a good job. You have a nice voice." Not what I was expecting. Peter has a draw on Martin, he needs to watch out. I know I have to look after Jon, but I can't let Peter take Martin entirely either. I have my work cut out for me.
"Oh, thank you!" I am not always the kindest to him, but his compliments make my head spin. Martin is such a genuine person. He is different, and I cannot help but pity him. I know that when he says something like that he means it. The vertigo that strikes me reminds me of my old attachment to the Lonely. I knew it.
"Is there anything I can–" a throat clears. Whatever Martin was going to ask me dies in his throat, and he will certainly not remember later.
An impatient Daisy Tonner stands in the doorway, her arms are crossed over her chest, and I can feel the pounding of her blood press in on me. "Martin, may I have a moment with her?" Martin scrambles out of the room like a spooked rodent. What did I say? Scared of everything. "You must be Helen."
"I must be!" I stand up, holding a hand out to her.
She scowls, shaking my hand with a limp grip. "Can I ask you a few questions?" It is less a question, rather she poses it as a demand.
"Doesn't seem like I have a choice," I offer her alongside a glimmer of a smile, "yeah?" She does not take to it. She does not like me at all. There is an aggression that radiates off of her no matter the way she holds herself.
"Are you aware of the situation?" Which one? Which fucking one? Sometimes the ignorance of others drives me up the wall. When she asks me am I aware of the situation so vaguely, part of it is a bait, to see what I know. She thinks she sees the bigger picture, but she has her face pressed up against the glass right now. She cannot see it coming. None of them can. I know though, and I like it that way.
"Martin and Tim have kept me in the loop." If you want to play games, you better have a plan Daisy. She certainly thinks she does. Poor thing.
"And where have you been all this time?" I don't ordinarily work in the Archives. I wonder if she has questioned everyone in the Institute. There's no way. She's focusing on the Archives, so why was she asking about my absence? I might be getting ahead of myself. I wasn't here during the Prentiss attack either, and it can certainly look bad.
"Honestly, going through a bit of a rough patch," I say–which is not untrue– "I needed a bit of a mental break."
"So you just didn't come to work?" Do you even work, Daisy? It seems like you do whatever you feel like. Don't come to me pretending in this way. I can see right through you, Miss Tonner.
"I spoke with Elias actually, he gave me sick leave." A flash comes to me. I am waking from a nightmare, ice spikes down my spine. I look at him, and he has been standing in the doorway, a silent watchman. When I turn my eyes to him; however, he shifts his weight and then wanders to my side.
"You spoke with Elias?" Everyone loses their minds at my interactions with Elias. I don't think talking to my boss about leave is a hard to palate scenario. There is a look on her face like she has stepped in something gross.
"I mean, yeah," I let a drop of venom slip from my tongue, "he's my boss."
"And you report straight to him?" No, Daisy, I report to Colonel Sanders. I swear. She's actually incredibly annoying. I tilt my head to the side, and she matches me, a cheap mockery.
"He's my employer." I think I like him.
"He sucks." A discordant buzz hums through my bones. I don't have time to unpack my feelings about whatever it is the two of us have. I just know that Daisy is bothering me.
Keep your head together, Helen. "Uh, is this relevant?"
"Not really," she looks me over, but she does not see, "Do you know where Jon is?"
"No." Of course I know.
She lets out an angry huff, a bit of her hair fluffs up with it. "Okay, I'm done with you." She wanders off, clearly certain that I am not going to provide anything of use. She is correct of course. I do like being difficult.
