I do not see Elias much other than in the car these days. We are both busy. I have been scouring the archives for the proper statements for Jon while also working the archives with the assistants. On top of dodging Daisy, my work from Elias, and the actual job, I am missing my tea sessions with Elias. I know I have not been to his office much lately, but what if he is avoiding me and I just don't know it yet?
The Archives hums with the usual eeriness as I navigate its aisles, statements piled in my arms. Getting used to the watchful eyes of my colleagues lately has been an interesting experience. The assistants watch me so much more than those down in Artefact Storage. They are more comfortable with me here.
Approaching my temporary workspace, I find Martin and Tim huddled in a hushed conversation. Tim looks like he could get some sleep. Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him around recently. I wonder where he had been. Martin, on the other hand, wears that expression of perpetual worry.
"Morning," I say, dropping the statements onto Jon's desk.
Tim gives me a raised eyebrow as if to ask why I was here. Martin clears his throat in the most polite way possible, "Good Morning!" In the least subtle way, he looks at Tim while motioning in my direction, "Helen's here a little more often lately."
"Uh, yeah," I give Tim a crooked smile, "just helping out while Jon is…away. It will be good to have you around, Tim."
Tim does not confront my comment. He leans against a shelf, and announces to no one person in particular, "Jon murders someone and we have a substitute!" He asks, "Elias must be working you hard, huh?
I give them a shrug of frosted nonchalance. "Someone's got to keep the gears turning around here."
Martin chuckles nervously, glancing at the statements piled. "Good luck with that."
"Oh, I'm just picking up in Jon's footsteps," I wave the recorder around. "He was trying to get it more organized around here." Tim follows the tape recorder in my hand with tight lips.
"Yeah, when he wasn't losing his marbles," he spits out the words more than says them. There is so much tension building up inside Tim. He needs to be careful. He might just lose himself.
I immerse myself in some statement recordings, setting aside the occasional one to be packaged up to Jon. I will get some of these to him sometime tomorrow.
The room holds only Tim and me at the moment. Perfect timing for a little probing. "Do you really think he did it?"
Tim, nursing a bad mood all day, responds with a heavy shrug. "Why run if you're not guilty?"
"If you believe no one would believe you, you'd run," I assert, confident in the certainty that Jon is innocent. There is a disparity in knowing between Tim and I.
Tim, usually one for banter, remains standoffish. His silence becomes a prompt for me to shift the mood. "So, how was your time away?"
His response is to mirror my question, "How was yours?"
"I was under the weather," I admit.
"Same here." There is still a bit of uneasiness that coats his tongue around me. He is still suspicious of me. "We seem stuck here, don't we?" His words leave him with a mask of his usual confidence.
"Seems that way." I thumb through a statement associated with the Lightless Flame.
"Don't you have questions? Any burning desire to do something about it?" He eases further into the conversation, prodding at me with his words.
"Not really. You had your reasons for coming to the Institute, so did I. Does it really matter if we're stuck here now? We chose this." This would be a good one for Jon, actually. A nice push in the right direction I think.
He presses on, shifting the conversation. "Elias gave me a hard time about my absence. Almost felt like an interrogation."
"He does that," and it's absolutely mean. I remember my early days with him, he scratches at your layers until you become something else. His criticisms and questions drag you out of comfort into whatever this is.
"How can you stand to be around him so much?" Tim has both his hands pressed against the desk, towering over me. I adore him, Tim. It's simple really. I would do anything, and I do mean that.
"He's not bad company. I'd rather be stuck with him than someone like," I heft one of the statements, "uhhh, Jurgen Leitner."
"That's actually an insane comparison. Do you realize that?" a smile splits over his face. Hook, line, and sinker. Too easy. The tension haunting us melts away, and Tim goes back to work. He needs it.
I am tired from hunching over this desk and these statements. I yawn and stretch out my limbs. As the day wanes, Martin lingers by my desk. "Thanks for your help, Helen. We've all been a bit on edge, but you have been working really hard." Oh, you don't even know!
"It's alright, things are crazy lately," I reply. My phone buzzes in my pocket. That will be Elias asking me if I am ready to head home. "We'll manage. Now, go get some rest, both of you."
With Martin and Tim disappearing into the shadows of the Archives. The days to come stretch out before me, like a growing hallway, daunting and endless. I continue on because I know that something awaits me at the end. I will travel these waters despite my limited control. I should head out too, Elias is waiting for me. Though I am fine with making him wait a little bit, I would like to see him.
The ride home is quiet. This is worse than when Tim was tip-toeing around me. He says nothing to me, and I have so much I want to say. I do not even know where to start. Before I know it, we are turning the corner, and my home is right there. I should say something. Really.
It has been gnawing at my insides and fluttering around inside my skull, sometimes a pretty adornment, and other times a sour acid. "Did you mean for it to happen?"
Elias is parked outside my flat, the car still running. I do not shift to leave, I turn to look at him instead. "For what to happen, Helen?" Come on, Elias. Don't play this game with me. I cannot do this today. I need more from you. I need answers. I know you have helped me, and that much is no secret, but there is so much you hide.
"I was very unwell," I say. The weak spots in my memory frighten me. Elias is delicate with me in flashes I cannot explain.
"I had a hard time noticing at first," he says, parking the car. "Sometimes it's hard for me to see things about you." We both hide things from each other. I am sure of that much.
"But, when you did," I pause, reminded of him standing in the doorway as I lay there, "you let me be sick at first. I remember–"
"Yes, and I'm sorry." Another apology. I must be dreaming. There is a wavering about him. Just a little more, and something is sure to give.
I chance reaching a hand out to him as I ask, "Why did you do it?" Just help me out here, Elias. I do not know what to do. I know you said I would, but I don't know what to make of us.
"I was testing something," he wraps my hand in both of his, his grasp solid but not tight. His slender fingers are awkward against mine.
"Testing what, Elias?" He runs a thumb over my knuckles, and it sends a flurry through my stomach.
"I was testing myself," as he speaks, he continues to caress my hand in his own. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself over."
"But, Elias," I whine, my hand is warm in his. It is so distracting. My hand twitches in a slight movement. I have a shadow of a hope of a feeling. The way he holds me feels like when I worry that he can vanish in a moment. It is like he is keeping me anchored to him.
"I thought I could watch you suffer," his voice is low, "I was wrong." He pulls my hand closer, and my arm is going stiff. This position is awkward and uncomfortable, my shoulder aches. I do not want it to end though, so I do nothing.
"What are you saying?" My arm trembles from the awkward position he has me in. I need more from you than this, Elias.
"It wasn't an issue for me with others," he pauses as I lean closer to him. I was fed up with the position he had me in. I needed to be closer for my own comfort. "I have had friends and those that I acted friendly towards." And?
I can feel his breath against me as I ask, "How did that go?"
"I learned something." He drops my hand, and begins to smooth out my collar instead.
As long as I would like this to drag on, I am leaning across the aisle of a car as he fiddles with my collar, and I am in danger of losing my balance. I steady myself against him. "Are you ever going to be direct with me?"
"I can't do this without you," he releases my collar, but it is not fixed into the right place.
"Of course you can," I lean back, returning to my seat. I unclick the seatbelt. I should go home. I have overstayed my welcome.
"I need you."
I always knew that was the truth. I was a tool for him to achieve his endings. I was okay with being a means if it was him. "I know."
His jaw grows tight, and he narrows his eyes at me. He almost looks angry with me, there is a rising distaste visible in him. He huffs and leans over me, digging into his glove box. I pressed back into my seat to give him space, but his arm had still brushed over me for a moment. "Helen, can I ask you something?"
"Of course." I do not know that I can spend much longer in this vehicle with you. I think I will break if I do. I cannot cry now. Why am I sad?
"Take this," he passes me a sealed envelope and continues, "and don't read it until I am away." Right. You are leaving soon, and I have a job to do.
"Then what?" What after? Does this end at some point? I wonder what he could have possibly written to me that must wait, but it evades my curiosity.
"Wait for me?" My heart cries out. I need a moment.
I gulp, and the sound is louder than I expect it to be. Obviously, I will. I will always wait when it's you."You know that I will."
"Helen," he pulls a tucked strand of my hair from out behind my ear. I press the envelope against my chest.
"Yes, Elias. I will wait for you." There is something different about him I cannot quite explain.
