Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jon's condition had subdued ever since he became… less human, to say the least. Martin knew how much it boasted the ill man's spirits to go so long without a single twitch or full body jerk. It lasted months on end at times, but only when Jonathan could feed on the fears of people regularly and in person. Lately it has only been statements though, seeing as Jon was trying to gain some level of self control.

Martin watched as the man he loved grew weaker, and in turn his medical condition resurfaced. It started small, just about a month after Jon had sworn to survive only off of what the archives provided. Martin had come to his office to bring tea, but stalled at the cracked door to observe his love harmlessly. Jon looked so relaxed while making those final notes on the case he had just finished recording.

His long, wavy black hair was thrown up in a bun, the white streaks standing out strikingly among their darker counterparts. He was pulling his beige cardigan close to preserve heat, the office becoming quite chilly during the later months of the year. Martin smiled fondly and waited with cups in hand for Jon to finish his notes.

"No more information can be found on the whereabouts of mister Parkman, but I've come to believe that he-" Jon interrupted himself as his head flung back into a stiff half nod, his eyes squeezing shut as he did so. Martin moved instantly to his side, almost on instinct to remove the pen Jon had been clicking absent-mindedly. He was grateful he had because Jon's fist had begun to beat against his leg, stopping once three good hits had landed on his thigh.

It had happened in an instant and ended just as quickly. Martin had shut the tape recorder off, knowing full-well that Jon was going to be too emotional to continue. A small sniffle pulled Martin closer to comfort his crestfallen lover. "I was doing so well. I-" Jon choked on a sob. "I thought it was gone." He slumped over on his desk to cry softly, and Martin's heart ached tremendously just watching.

They ended up on the floor shortly after. It was something that Jon tended to do back when The Eye was weak. The difference between now and back then was Martin, which made a world of a diffrence. Now Jon could cry onto the soft and warm shoulder of someone who cares for him and it made recovering from this mental travesty so much easier.

Martin ran his hands along Jon's sides, whispering soft words into the smallers ear. "It's going to be alright, I'm not going anywhere. Breath, habibi, breath."

"I-I'm sorry, I just-*sniffle*- I was just hoping it would stay gone as long as The Eye was present. I guess I have to be feeding into the monster in order for it to actually heal me." Jon exhaled a laugh that was solely powered on exhaustion, no real comedy behind it. "I just-... I really don't want to live like this again."

Martin hums along in understanding. He remembers how happy Jonathan had been when he came to the realization that all of his health problems had fizzled out into non-existence. First with the seizures, then the verbal tics, till finally there weren't even the small motor spasms.It must be so frustrating to feel it all coming back again. "I know habibi, I know. We've worked through it before, we can do it again. I'll pick up your prescription and-"

Jon cuts Martin off. He knows it's rude, but his brain is just malfunctioning past all basic conversation edicate. "The meds only make the dissociative seizures worse. I can't have that with my job because the recording will be a mess of pauses and-"

"And the alternative is falling over uncontrollably. I can not lose you to something as simple as a concussion. Please, Jon, just trust me on this." His eyes were basically sending a plea for cooperation. Despite how much Jonathan hates the side effects of the foul pills, he really couldn't argue with Martin anymore.

"Fine."

Chapter Text

"Fuck you! *whistle* *click-click* F-Fuck you!" Jon punches himself hard in the jaw with the heel of his hand, his blue-light glasses going askew at the aggressive motion. Luckily, he hadn't yet picked up the communal pot of coffee in the office break room so nothing broke/spilled. "God dammit!" That curse was all Jon's free will.

"Shouldn't you be taking medicine for that?" Melanie gruff voice remarked, mouth hidden from behind her mug and her eyes behind blacked out glasses. Thankfully, her voice didn't contain a hint of amusement so Jon knew she wasn't making fun of him. Nonetheless, he feared her tone becoming judgmental one day.

"M-Martin is *whistle* picking them up *click-click* for me since I cant drive anymore- Fuck you!" Jon pauses his speech all together all of a sudden to heave a huge sigh. "Sorry Mel, I don't mean it. It's a-"

"A neurological disorder thing, yeah yeah, no need to explain." Melanie waves her hand dismissively in the air as she walks over to the door. "I'm going to Gorgies. Try not to break anything." And just like that, she went to hang out with Jon's ex girlfriend, which is now her girlfriend and-... Yeah, Jon was still getting used to that bit.

Jon stayed sitting in the break room till Martin came back from the pharmacy. It wasn't too long of a wait, or at least he didn't think it was. In reality, Jonathan had been sitting there for over an hour just blinking down at the battered wooden table. It wasn't even hypnotic like the one in artifact storage. Jon thinks he may have felt better if he could blame all this wasted time of the paranormal.

"Love? Are you with me?" Martin calls gently to the dissociated man slouched over on the stool. "I have your medication. Would you like to take them now or could you give me a sign that you'd like to wait?" But the large man composed only of soft edges and welcoming features was already pulling over his own seat and getting comfortable. He already knew that this would take a while.

"J…mi…pl…" Jon grumbled incoherently, still locked into place. He could barely form thoughts, brain as jumbled as one warped by The Spiral. Martin leaned in, trying to pick up on more syllables. This encouraged Jon to pour as much effort as he could in trying again. "Jus… minut…ples.."

"Of course. I'll stay for as long as you'll have me." Martin replied, leaning back into his own chair after pouring some coffee into his pastel cup. "I love you." He added, picking up a book to pass the time. The episode only lasted five more minutes which the pair spent in complete silence. Martin could have talked Jon through this one, but opted for letting his partner recover on his own instead. Sometimes the quiet was best.

"I… I'm here, I think." Jon broke the silence. He tried to reach for Martin's hand but found he was too weak to make it very far. It wasn't just the weakness that kept Jon from moving; it was also the chronic pain that ghosted over him and the deep setting feeling that he wasn't real. Epilepsy is just so much fun in that way (said nobody ever). "Can you help me move, Martin? I feel too stiff."

Martin places down his book and pops his fingers methodically before reaching over to Jon's arm. He always got nervous about these types of things and it showed in the way he hesitated before grasping Jonathan limb. "Okay, I'm going to move you now. Tell me if it hurts." Martin says dryly, clammy hands raising Jon's arm out till it's straight. This did render some rather unpleasant sounds from Jon, startling Martin into almost dropping everything.

"Ah, ohmygod, fuck- don't stop." Jon winces out through clenched teeth. A rather loud pop scares both of the men at the table, Martin to the point of freezing up and Jon to the extent of utter silence. His mouth just stayed agape as the pain radiated from the previously locked up elbow, eyebrows knitting together in anguish. "a-... "

"Martin, have you seen-" Basira stops in the doorway, her face falling into a concerned grimace. "What's going on? Why does Jon look like he's about to cry?" Basira rounds the table till she's standing next to Jon, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder for a fraction of a second till it becomes clear that that was a horrible idea. Jon yelped in pain as the second of pressure was applied to his frame. "What the fuck! Martin, explain."

And of course Martin was going to do so because Basira terrified him in the same way a math teacher would. So he stammered out, "Jon's joints are locking up. It's an epilepsy thing and I don't know if I should stretch him out or…" the sentence is drawn out because Martin doesn't know where to take it. So he just continued to make eye contact with Basira awkwardly till one of them decided to check back in with the man in the predicament.

"What should we do Jon?" The former detective asked softly. "Blink once if we should move you around and twice if we should wait." The instructions were easy enough for Jon's mashed potato brain because he soon blinked one time without any sign of a second blink coming on. "Okay, I guess we're doing this. I'll get his left hand then."

Let's just say it was loud and by the end of it Jon was left panting and broken. He had screamed in agony with every major joint being reshuffled back into its socket and angle. He could move freely again for the most part, but it still aches so much to try. "M-Medicine. Pain-R-Reliever, anything. Just make it stop." The first tear slid down Jon's cheek and over the bruise on his jawline from the tic earlier. After that it was like a waterfall of sadness streaming from those reddened eyes in thick rivers.

"Sure, um, will these help the pain?" Martin grabbed the bag he had received from the pharmacy less than an hour ago and removed the bright orange bottles from within.

Jon paused for a moment, then shook his head slowly. "It'd-... It'd take too long. I- need the- "Jon smacks himself in the face abruptly. "-the muscle relaxers in my desk- *click-click*- FUCK YOU! *whistle* S-STUPID BITCH!" The tics came out loud and glitchy, like a broken record. Jon began to sob, each violent shake rattling his thin frame. Martin turned to leave as his boyfriend's muscles cinched tight painfully before relaxing again; the process kept repeating.

"I heard you had epilepsy or whatever, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be such a dick." Basira sneered down at Jon who continued to writhe and cry. He lowered his head in shame, not having enough control over his words now to explain that he didn't mean it. Martin spun on his heels, hand on the door frame to stop all gained momentum, grabbing Basira's attention. "What?"

"He has Tourettes as well, so please don't say things like that. He already has the need to over apologize when it comes to his medical problems as it is." And then Martin began his quest to find the meds Jon had said were in his desk. He did not spare Basira another glance on his way out, finding Jon much more important than her in this very moment.

Jon's work space was an utter mess. Martin's determination almost faltered when he looked at the crumpled notes, broken pens and faulty tape recorders shoved into the filing cabinets under Jon's desk, which acted as desk drawers. Martin didn't think twice about making a mess, throwing anything non relevant onto the floor till he came upon a bottle filled with liquid instead of Pills.

It read 'diazepam' on the label and had several unused syringes taped to it half-hazardly. Martin had to do a quick Google search to see if this was helpful because there appeared to be no other bottles that resembled medication in Jon's desk. It was brought back swiftly to the break room where Basira stayed waiting by Jon's side. The pair were now located on the floor for reasons Martin was unaware of upon arriving. It wasn't until he had rounded the table completely that the ginger realized why Basira had dragged Jon to the dirty wooden planks below. "How long has he been out?" Martin asks as he begins to prepare the 10 ml of medication in one of the syringes.

"About three minutes I think. It started right after you had left." Basira filled in the blanks, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance now?" She had to scoot back to avoid getting hit by Jonathan's wildly spasming limbs, wincing in second hand pain when his arm collided with the leg of a chair.

"No ambulances until the seizure exceeds five minutes. Let's hope it doesn't come to that though." Martin says with a sigh, stopping for a moment to read over the instructions on the bottle. This only caused him to sigh even heavier. " I really don't want to stab my boyfriend, Basira. Could you do it?"

"Sure. Give me the needle." Then without a second more of hesitation, Basira stabs the sterile syringe into Jon's upper arm. There was a little force administered before she applied pressure to the end, slowly injecting the liquid into Jon's body.

To say Martin was nervous during this whole thing was an understatement. He would cry if he thought too much about how the love of his life was in such pain, so he made it his prime focus to help Jon. That's how Martin would stop from throwing himself into a helpless void of pity where all he could think about was how Jon was suffering again and he couldn't just take it all away. Martin really wishes he could live with these problems that Jon was cruelly dealt like playing cards. It was just so unfair.

"I think it's stopping." Basira's voice cut through Martin's thoughts like a hot knife till he was completely focused on Jonathan again. The seizure was indeed coming to an end, but with that came preparation for a much more sensitive Jonathan.

"Okay, turn off the lights and fetch me a glass of water with a straw please. Oh, and a warm cloth." Martin instructed just as Jon began to flutter his eyes open. A groan came from the thin man sprawled on the floor, so Martin decided to pull him onto his lap as a provision of comfort. "Hey there, habibi." Martin called gently, hooking the 'H' pronunciation just like Jon had taught him. "Close your eyes." And Jon complied instantly without question.

"Martin," Janathan rasped weakly, hand coming up to rub away a forming migraine. Martin had obviously predicted and planned for this; Basira had shut off the lights, handed him a water bottle with a red bendy straw curling out the top as well as a damp rag that had been put in the microwave.

"I know it hurts." Martin whispered, laying the warm cloth over Jon's eyes delicately. "Can you tell me where we are?" Martin asks to gauge the man's level of coherence after such an event.

Jon shakes his head side to side.

"That's fine. It's totally okay to not know. Do you know the date?"

Another slow head shake.

Martin frowns deeply. He had never had to deal with Jon at this level of memory loss. Usually he remembers one of those two things. With a suddenly dry mouth, Martin asks another question. "Last one, habibi. What's your name." He thought it would be simple; easy to answer.

Jon curls further into Martin's body, his hands scrunching into the larger man's jumper. "I- I don't know." The confession brings tears to both of their eyes. "I don't know who or what I am. I d-don't know how I got here or-... wait, are we still in Scotland?" Jon asks innocently, glossy eyes opening ever-so-slightly to look at his boyfriend.

To that, Martin chuckles. He couldn't really help it, Jon was just acting so youthful and dependent and it made Martin's heart squeeze with affection. "No, love. We are back in the Archives. There aren't any more fears, so The Eye has begun to leave you slowly. All of your medical problems are catching back up and-..." Martin chokes up as his emotions rise in his throat. "-and we'll be okay. Because now we have each other to lean on. Everything's going to be just fine."

Jon hums at the end, seeming to approve of every word his ginger giant of a lover had said. So… that means we kicked Jonah's ass." He added matter-of-factly, nuzzling against Martin till they were both laying down on the floor.

"Yeah, that we did." Martin laughs softly and begins to chard his fingers through Jonathan's long hair in soothing pets.

Neither of them noticed that Basira was casually reading a book at the table, as if she were the only one in the room.

Chapter Text

"How long has he been like that?" Basira asks Martin as soon as they are alone. Martin had put Jon down to sleep in his old bed from way back in the worms-is-attacking-me-so-I'm-sleeping-in-the-archives-days. Now he was being cornered by a very intimidating ex-detective in his very corrupt old bosses office that has been turned into a lounge. Oh how things change over the years.

"I don't know if Jon would want me to be telling you about-"

"Don't give me that crap Blackwood. If you're not going to tell me, then I'll go up to Jon and interrogate him till I know what I'm dealing with. I just want to learn how to help, so spill." Basira interrupts bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest confidently.

"Fine," Martin folds. He goes to sit on the plush yellow couch, heaving a sigh of exhaustion before talking again. "It started when he was really young, around nine I think. It's not just Tourettes or Epilepsy that's included, those are just parts of NFD, which is a major brain problem that messes with every other bodily system. Mostly it's small things, like the loss of senses for a while or paralysis. The tremors and seizures are the most self destructive parts."

Basira nods along as she moves to sit in a chair located beside the couch. She would also get this scrunch of concern between her eyebrows every now-and-again whenever Marin mentions some new problem that Jon has to deal with. "So why does he trust you so much with this stuff? It kind of seemed like you helped him before the apocalypse with these things, but I could be wrong."

"No, you're right. Whenever Jon was just my boss and nothing more, I would help him through these waves of nausea. I thought he was just sick at first, so I started making him tea more regularly. He said it helped, but I think it only helped remind him that there were people that cared and that… and that he would be missed if he were to pass. He was struggling then, mentally."

"Oh god." The woman man-spreading in her chair gravely looks down at the floor. "That must have sucked." She says, not once looking up from the old wooden floor boards. "So when did you find out he was sick?"

"Scotland, when we were staying in Daisy's safe house. Although Jon had the eye to stable him,... I don't know, I think it was too much? Like how steroids can help in moderation, but whenever you take too much your brain starts to fry. It was sort of like that. So at one point I asked why he kept staring at walls and couldn't walk most days. Then boom, I knew." Martin finishes with a shrug, like the event had unfolded in such a nonchalant way back then. Maybe it did, Basira couldn't tell because she wasn't there.

"Woah. Well, that's a lot. So I should prepare to help him move around, remember things, and speak up when his hearing gets faulty… man, it should be like taking care of an old man."

"Nope." Martin unhappily snaps, sitting up strain to appear in a more assertive light. "I will not have any of those comments. Think what you want, but please do not outwardly connect Jon to being some burdensome senile grandpa. He will break into a million pieces if he starts to believe that so I beg of you to not tease him." The glare Martin shoots at Basira is so intense that she immediately gets the memo and retraces her words.

"Sorry, sorry. I wasn't trying to belittle him. No need to come for my throat. I'll help in any way I can as long as that doesn't upset you."

"I'm going to go check on him. Please stop jumping to conclusions and being outwardly judgmental, Basira."
—------

"Martin? How did I- When did I-... Was it a seizure?" Jon rambles as he confusingly examines the room. Martin had been sitting there, by his boyfriend's side, for about an hour now. He even has tea in a beautiful glass teacup along with the medication Jon has to take at the ready.

"Yes. I used the diazepam in your desk drawer to stop it. Here, take your meds." Martin smiles softly as he hands over the orange bottle from the pharmacy and the cup of herbal tea. Jon accepted them with a grimace. He has always hated his meds and how all of the side effects made him worse mentally. It shut off his system, made his nerves pulsate in the most annoying way, and still didn't stop all of the small tics. Nevertheless, he took them with the tea Martin had graciously prepared.

"Thank you. I'm sorry in advance for-"

"Don't apologize for something that hasn't happened yet." Martin intervenes calmly. "I'm sure that even if something does happen, it will be the sort of thing you can't help, thus not requiring an apology." The ginger watched as his lover sipped the rest of his tea down till the chalky residue that the pills left in the back of his throat dissipated. "Basira ordered Machboos and Shawarma. We didn't know which one you'd prefer."

"Thank you, Ya Amar. I will join you both as soon as I'm more composed. It might be a minute though." Jon looked solemnly down to his lap where his hands laid folded, trembling, clammy, and fighting the neurological need to pound against his thigh. "Did you tell Basira about… well, all of it? About me?" Jon still found it hard to look Martin in the eyes for some unknown reason.

"Yes." At that, Jon did look up. Not because he felt betrayed or shocked or anything, but because Martin sounded nearly cynical. It was very un-Martin like. "She was surprised and made some rather rude comments, but I explained everything nonetheless."

"Alright then." Jon couldn't think of any other way to respond. "Noted." He tried to get up only to find himself weighed down by the universe, so Jon just sank back down till his joints didn't ache any more. "You can go start eating. I'll be there in just a moment."

"But habibi, you-"

"I'll be fine, I just need a moment to settle. Now go eat."
‐‐‐‐‐‐
That one minute that Jon had said he needed had turned into half an hour. Basira, who is a fan of personal space, had advised Martin to let Jon have this time alone. When the tired man finally arrived, it was with a couple hidden bruises and a scrunching face. "S-sorry Martin. I *click-click* was trying to stop the fidgeting." Jon's hand came up to beat twice on his sternum with too much force to be normal.

Martin only smiled, paying the motion no mind, and patted the seat beside him."Come eat. You're not supposed to take your meds on an empty stomach."

Basira had thought it'd be wise to save one of each food option for Jon to choose from, and it surely was in the end. Jon had chosen the Shawarma, basically undressing the food with his eyes (if that were even possible). Jon dug in with large bites at a pace that startled the woman sitting across from him. "Wow, calm down there tiger. Nobody's going to take your food away. You'll choke at this rate."

Jon did not slow his pace till he was lacking his fingers clean. This made Martin chuckle with fondness and pure joy to be living at this very moment in time. "I'm glad you enjoyed the food." Martin threw away the Styrofoam takeout containers with a satisfied grin. "Cuddles?" He offered. "Or a walk through the park?"

"Sure. A walk sounds nice."
"I'd love to, Ya Amar."

Basira and Jon answered in unison, the ladder clearly more affectionate about it. The ex-detective seemed to be oblivious about how exclusive this offer was; she had even begun to pull on her coat. "Oh, Basira, I kind of ment-"

"Fuck you! *click-click* *snap* in the ass. Sorry, sorry. I c-Cunt! Can't help it."

"We know, Jon. No need to apologize. Let's get some fresh air." Basira says with finality before herding everyone out of the office and up to the street.