Work Text:
Jon pulled another statement down from the stack as the door to his office shut quietly behind him, trying very hard to stuff all the stupid, indignant, pointless anger to the back of his brain.
It wasn't- he was just-
He opened the audio recording program, opened a new file, pressed the big red button labeled "Record" and started reading. "Statement of Andrew Mulligan, regarding a dragon sighted in the French Alps. Original statement given January the 24th, 2001. Audio Recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement Begins."
So the thing was, Jon knew they were being unfair. They knew they were being snappish and cruel and cutting and-
Jon could already tell that this was one of the fake ones. He couldn't feel the fear that sank into his bones whenever he read the ones that would only go on tape. He couldn't sense the- the other person's experience washing over him. Most of all, that unbearable watching presence was the same as it ever was. A light pressure at the back of his mind, and not the looming awful dread that leaned in so close he almost felt it brushing against him whenever he read something real. Still, he paused the recording, and listened to it back. There was already so much work to do, he couldn't afford to waste twenty minutes trying to record an uncooperative statement.
So the thing was, Jonathan Sims could take care of themselves. They'd always taken care of themselves. Their grandmother loved them, did her best for them, but she was old and tired and grieving, and Jon always managed to be... difficult. They needed things the other kids didn't: clothes that were the right textures, the same foods every day (until they got sick of those foods, couldn't stand to touch them anymore). They needed the exact right books and they needed their room to be organized in the exact right way. They wandered off, never sat still, couldn't listen to instructions, couldn't-
He could hear his voice, loud and clear. Another dud, a complete waste of his time. There wasn't a scrap of truth to this thing, but if he didn't read the fake statements, if he took the bait, let the watching thing know that he believed, that he was afraid-
So Jon cooked their own meals when they were old enough, because that way they would always make something they wanted to eat. Grandmother would give them money to buy school supplies and groceries and bus fare, and they did everything they needed to themselves. When they told her they were a boy (which was never quite right, but it was more accurate than girl) she took them to the doctor's office and answered questions when asked and signed off, first on puberty blockers, then on testosterone. But Jon was responsible for doing all the research and asking questions and keeping track of everything. So grandmother housed them and paid for the things they needed, and Jon took care of everything else. Because they're an adult, not an incompetant child. And they continued taking care of themselves, because that was always their job, and they could do it. Which is why it was so-
Jon started recording again and read through the statement. He couldn't quite keep the derision out of his voice (although he tried, he needed to be professional, it was the only thing he had-) and he was sure his irritated tapping was getting picked up by the computer. Andrew described a vacation in France. Andrew mentioned having a few drinks (and Jon was certain, down to his marrow, that Andrew was much more drunk than he let on, although he couldn't explain why he was so sure of this). And Andrew explained seeing a huge shape overhead (a cloud, a plane, a helicopter, none of it mattered). And when Jon got to the end he couldn't stop himself from tearing into it, picking apart every inaccuracy.
So the thing was, Jon knew that Martin's behavior was, by most standards, kind. They knew Martin is probably just trying to suck up to his boss, make up for his shortcomings (his citations were appalling, and he kept submitting work far past the deadline, and did he think Jon had the time to go over every one of his mistakes?). Jon was also aware that prolonged exposure to them tended to drive people away (except possibly Elias, who put a hand on Jon's shoulder last week and Jon can feel the blood rushing to their face and they can almost feel Elias' hand again, firm but gentle-). Jon had hoped that Martin would get the message, because they couldn't just say it, because it sounded so unreasonable every time they imagined saying it aloud.
Jon got through the follow-up, quick as he could. Nothing there, of course. The statement was bogus. He could hear the sneer in his voice. He should've rerecorded this one, made himself sound more neutral. Instead he opened the Magnus Institute's online archival database, typed out a transcript and a description of the statement, and pressed "upload." He clicked off as soon as he saw that the file had gone through, he couldn't stand to look at the other uploaded statements. If he didn't look at them, then he didn't think about how other people could listen to them (might be listening right at that moment, knowing how unfit he was for this role, how immature and unprofessional he was being).
So the thing was, Martin brought them tea. He didn't ask, just assumed that Jon must want tea and that Martin should bring him some. Martin brought him biscuits, too, and they're the bland kind that made Jon gag when they ate them, but when Martin came to collect the dishes (another thing he did instead of working) he got concerned. Wondered if Jon didn't like them, distracted Jon with questions about what he should be getting instead. And then he said that he doesn't think Jon eats enough, and Jon could hear it in his voice even if he wouldn't put it out in the open: that Jon couldn't take care of themselves. That they were a stupid irresponsible child. And suddenly Jon heard the voice of every exasperated doctor fussing over their diet and Jon just couldn't take it.
"I fail to see how this is any of your business." he had snapped the last time that had happened, every word soaked with venom. And Martin had shrunk back and apologized and Jon felt guilty and ashamed, which only stoked the anger further. When he emerged from his office later, he could feel the judgemental gazes of Tim and Sasha trailing him all the way to the breakroom and hovering over his shoulder. It was a heavy, awful presence in his gut. He had rushed back to his office as fast as possible as soon as he had choked down some water before either of them could pounce.
So the thing was, Jon knew they should've just explained it, wished that they could. But every time they practiced in their head it sounded so stupid. They imagined saying that it almost feels like mockery (which wasn't quite true, but was close enough). Or that it made them feel that Martin doesn't take them seriously (and that made them feel arrogant, which made it humiliating even in their head). They imagined explaining that they were just independent, but then they remembered Georgie looking at them with an expression too close to pity, as they tried to explain that they had always been self-sufficient, that they were used to it. They didn't need more uncomfortable conversations about their childhood, thank you very much.
He imagined: "It just makes me uncomfortable!"
But why?
And what could they say to that? It just does? Every time you bring me tea or fuss over my sleeping habits I feel like you think I'm a child? You remind me of how incompetent I feel? I don't even know you? Why do you think I need this? Who do you think I am? What do you think you know about me? It sounded whiny, idiotic, shameful. They couldn't imagine a conversation like that would make them look good, and they knew themselves well enough to understand how much that would upset them. And they knew that it was more than possible that they wouldn't need to explain themselves. They could just say that it made them uncomfortable and everyone would leave it at that. But they might also ask, and Jon couldn't imagine a single scenario where Martin or Tim or Sasha pushed them to explain without them revealing that awful vulnerability, without them being known and seen by others in ways they could barely stand being known and seen by themselves. So they say nothing. When Martin comes to collect the (cold, untouched) tea on their desk, Jon snaps that they can take care of it. Jon brings coffee to work in a thermos. Jon bristles and snaps and retreats into their shell and wishes very desperately that today Martin will quit or request a transfer, and Jon won't have to deal with his cloying attention and suffocating presence and the stress of hiding so much of themselves from this stranger. And the thing was, they knew they were being unfair. They knew they were being snappish and cruel and cutting and-
But really, what else can they do?