Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jonathan Sims wasn’t qualified to be The Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure what an archivist did, although he didn’t think it could be too different from the work he was already doing, seeing as he was being offered the position.
He was going to take the offer, regardless of whether or not he thought he could do it, because this wasn’t about the job for him. It wasn’t about the title, or the raise, or even his pride, no this was about the opportunity.
Being Head Archivist meant he would have access to the actual statements that the Institute had, it meant that he would get to choose who he worked with and what sort of follow up and research they did, and it meant that other than the people he chose to work with he would ostensibly be left alone.

As Elias explained what the position entailed, he was already thinking of who to request and how to make the most of the promotion.
“Well Jon?” Elias’ cold gray eyes locked onto him in a way that shook Jon from his daydreams. “I do so hope you’ll say yes. I see such potential in you.”

“Mr. Bouchard, it would be an honor. Of course I accept.”

Elias smiled, but it was one of those soulless, practiced smiles, and offered his hand to shake. Jon tried not to seem too eager as he took it, although he wasn’t sure why it would matter if he came across as too excited. He already had the job, and he wasn’t planning on staying in the position any longer than he had to.
“There’s a few forms I’ll need you to fill out, and we’ll have to make arrangements to transfer people as your assistants. In the meantime work on moving your effects into the office in the archives. I expect you to be ready to begin Monday.”
“Yes, sir. I actually know who I’d like to request as my research assistants.”
“That saves me a lot of time.” Elias turned to his computer to search the employee database for whoever Jon requested.
“Timothy Stoker who I work with in research, and Sasha James in Artifact Storage. We all know each other and I know they’re both very competent. The three of us will make a good team and our synergy will reduce the delays that always come with adjusting to a new position.”

As Elias typed away, Jon felt a surge of pride in himself for so eloquently promoting his suggested team. Everything he had said was true, but Tim and Sasha were also his friends, and they were trustworthy which was the most important thing.
“Consider it done. I don’t imagine either of them will refuse the transfer, not with the benefits offered and your glowing praise of them. Now I believe you have some paperwork to fill out, so I’ll let you return to work. I look forward to seeing how the archives will grow under your watchful eyes.”

Jon did his best to remain calm as he stood, it wouldn’t do for Elias to see just how excited he was. “Thank you Mr. Bouchard.”

Even after he had left the office, Jon was struggling to maintain any level of professionalism.

He ducked into the single person bathroom near the HR office that hardly anyone knew about and checked himself over in the mirror as he composed himself. It was hard to not purr or make some such other non-human noise when he was just so ecstatic. He adjusted the bandana that kept his ears hidden and smoothed his skirt.
He was going to be working in the Archives, just him, Sasha and Tim. All of those statements to read and research, all of the resources available to him and the privacy. He was confident that he could tell his secret to Tim and Sasha, both of them believed in the paranormal and they were just good people in general, and they liked animals. If everything went well, he wouldn’t have to be so reserved and secretive all of the time because it would just be the three of them, working together in a paper filled basement with nothing to hide from each other. Sasha would probably be upset about not getting the promotion herself at first, so he wanted her to know as much about the situation as possible as soon as possible. After all, he was planning on quitting once he had achieved his goal.

Once he was presentable he continued on his way back to his desk in research. As he approached his station he saw Tim leaning back in his chair to watch him, clearly curious about what Elias had talked to him about, so instead he took a little detour to talk to his friend.

“Well I’m guessing you didn’t get fired.” Tim was smiling at him and Jon saw that he had some crumpled paper he was obviously planning to throw at him, and Jon was in such a good mood he was going to let him.
“Quite the contrary.” He slapped the paper wad out of the air before it could hit his face and fought the urge to chase it as it bounced under another desk. “You can expect a raise by the way.”
“Oh?” Tim’s grin grew wider. “You buttered up the big boss on my behalf? Jon, I didn’t take you for such a flirt.”
“I am nothing of the sort, in fact from here on out I intend to make your job much harder.”
Tim rolled his eyes, and the next thing he said was much quieter. “You could definitely make something harder.”
With Jon’s above average hearing he wasn’t sure if Tim meant for him to hear that so he decided to play it safe and not acknowledge it. “I’m just going to let you find out what’s going on on your own. Expect an email from Elias soon. Now stop drawing frogs and get back to work.”
“You’re not my boss.” Tim balled up another frog drawing to throw at him as he walked away.
“Ha, just wait Tim.”

~

Jon was practically vibrating with excitement as he set up his desk. Today was his first day as Head Archivist, today was the first day of a new chapter in his life, one that would hopefully be more honest and productive than any other. Tim had finally stopped teasing him for dressing like an old lady, something he did often, and gone to help Sasha set up her desk, leaving him alone for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t going to tell them everything on their first day in the archive, but he would soon. And as soon as he did he wouldn’t have to hide so much of himself under scarves and skirts and coats. He could start dressing more like an old man than an old lady. He could just imagine Tim’s face when it was all out in the open, and it was priceless. He was prepared for the teasing, he was prepared for the pranks, he was even prepared for the touching he knew they’d both want to do, and strangely enough he was looking forward to it.

He had just gotten his stationary and pens in order and straightened up for a moment to stretch his back and bask in his good fortune when an unfamiliar voice cut through the silence.

“Hey, sorry, haven’t seen a dog have you?”

Jon turned sharply and saw an unknown man poking his head through the door of his office. “I-I’m sorry what?” Who was this man and why was he asking about dogs?

“A dog. A spaniel I think?”

Jon’s mind was working overtime to make sense of what was happening. “In general or-?” The strange man smiled awkwardly, “No, in the archives!” Jon could feel all his hair starting to stand on end. “Why would there be a dog in the archives?” He almost hissed the words, anger and fear building due to this unexpected situation.

“Oh, cuz well-”

“Who are you??” He had started to approach the door where the intruder was stammering, his anger overriding his instinct to run and hide.

“Oh ah, Ma-M- Martin!” He entered the office and held out a hand to shake. Jon stopped and glared at the offending hand like it might burn him.

“Cuz I may have let him in?” Martin continued, pulling his hand back when he saw the way Jon was looking at him.

"Wh-WHAT? Why?” This man had let a dog loose in the archives? A Dog. Of all the possible animals a dog was the worst one.

“Well I didn’t mean to!” Martin held up his hands defensively as he tried to explain. “Ya know we were outside, making friends, and then I had to come in but m-my hands were full, and the door’s really heavy, so, so I had to use my foot, and then he just sort of-” He gestured helplessly to the archives as a whole, “Got past me?” It was taking almost all of Jon’s concentration to keep his composure and not betray too much with his body language. “Why were you coming into the archives?”

“Oh I- Uh I work here.”

“No you don’t.”

He and Martin stared dumbly at each other for a few seconds before Jon continued. “I requested Tim, and I requested Sasha. And you-” He fought to not growl as he spoke. “Are neither.”
Martin suddenly looked aghast as realization dawned on him. “Oh. Ooooh! Oh…. You’re Jonathan Sims…. Yeah, uh, Mr. Bouchard said I’d be working for you.”

It was all Jon could do to take a deep breath and turn away. “Well he didn’t tell me anything about it.”

“He- uh he said that ahm- Well he transferred me from the library so-” Martin continued.
Jon summoned all of his determination and rage and turned back around, squaring his shoulders and looking Martin in the eye.

“So I’m your boss.”

“I mean I guess.”

He was going to kill this man.

“Which means that technically, I have the power to dismiss you, if this dog situation is not resolved immediately.”

“I mean, yeah, probably.” Martin gave him a dopey smile and Jon resisted the instinct to bare his fangs at him.

“OH! Oh! Yes!” The offender’s eyes widened as he realized the the second time in their short conversation how he had fucked up.
“Right, yes, sorry, I’ll-” Martin was backing up through the door, hands flapping uselessly as he tried to figure out how to salvage things before disappearing down the hall.

Jon slumped back against his desk and gripped the edge with white knuckles.

“Sorry!”

He jumped when Martin passed by the open door going the other way.
Jon had to take a few more deep breaths to calm himself.
“Well that’s……” He stiffly walked over and closed his office door so no one could see him seething. “..... Not ideal.”

Chapter Text

Jon got to work a full forty minutes early so he could work in peace and make sure he was ready and presentable for the day.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad, maybe Elias had gotten his email and Martin wouldn’t be coming back to the archives. Maybe his plans hadn’t been ruined.
He set his laptop up on his desk and opened his inbox.
He felt a wave of hope when he saw there was an email from Elias, which was not something he had ever experienced from one of his emails before.
He clicked it, eager for some good news.

It was not good news.

Martin was not being transferred back to the library, he was staying as part of the archival team.

Jon crumpled in his chair and let out a sad, soft cry.

He had known Tim since he started at the Institute four years ago, and through him he had met Sasha three years ago. Jon had spent those years gauging how dependable and understanding they were and had finally become comfortable enough to tell them the truth.

On the contrary, He knew nothing about Martin, except that he liked dogs. What if he only liked dogs?

He had worried about Tim when they first met because he had often talked about his childhood dog and how nice it was to take him on hikes and to the lake, but he had also seen Tim give half of his sandwich to stray cats without a second thought and pet the ones that let him. He also sent Jon a lot of cat memes because he knew there were the only memes he liked.

If Martin was a dog person and didn’t like cats he would have to be extra careful around him, and he couldn’t risk telling Tim or Sasha his secret if there was a chance Martin would find out.
His plan was falling apart, and it was all Martin’s fault.

Jon might have spent more time sulking except he heard the dull thump of a box full of paper hitting the floor, something he had become intimately familiar with in just one day. Someone or something was in the archives with him.
He tried to quietly open his office door to see who or what was there, and quickly spotted the source of the noise.

It was that accursed Martin.

The clumsy man had knocked over some of the boxes that hadn’t been properly moved out of the way yet, which wasn’t an issue really, but he was here almost forty minutes early and he seemed like he was looking for something. He was also whispering something to himself as he searched. If Jon wasn’t wearing a scarf over his ears he probably would have been able to hear what it was.
Perhaps things were worse than he thought, perhaps Martin had been transferred to spy on him or something to that extent. He was early, clearly believing himself to be alone in the archives, and he was rooting through things in a very suspicious manner.

Jon once again prepared himself for the ‘Mad Boss Act’, walked out, stood with his arms crossed in the one clear area of the room and loudly cleared his throat.

Martin jumped when he heard the noise and spun around, his eyes widening when he saw his boss standing surrounded by boxes of statements and looking angry.

“Oh sorry! I didn’t think anyone was here yet.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Jon pushed his glasses up. He didn’t need glasses, he just wore empty frames because it made him look like an academic and it distracted from his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Jon was sure to make his tone more accusatory than curious.

“I- uh, I thought I’d get in early, get set up and make tea for when everyone else got in, but you’re already here. I mean obviously, but I didn’t think you would be, and well, I feel like I made a bad impression yesterday and wanted to make up for it, so… uh, early!”

“Right.” Jon let the silence hang for a few seconds and Martin began to squirm under his harsh gaze. “But my question was more about why you’re rummaging through old boxes of statements.”

“Oh! Ummm…..” He seemed very hesitant to answer.

“Martin.”

Martin was a pretty big guy, but he looked like he might shrink away to nothing when Jon said his name with just the right amount of vitriol.

“Well it’s just…..”

“Go on.”

“I thought I heard a cat?”

Jon stiffened. Martin must have heard him let out his sad cry when he had read the email from Elias.
“I mean, I haven’t seen a cat, not when I was coming in or in here, but I thought I heard one and after the incident yesterday I really didn’t want there to be a repeat, so I thought I might be able to find it and get rid of it before anyone else came in… but I guess not…..”

Jon’s heart was pounding in his ears. Martin had heard him, and it was only their second day working together. If Martin was some sort of spy he had to be really careful, he had already slipped up.
“A cat?” Jon tried to keep his tone steady and even.

“Y-yes…..” Martin looked like he was anticipating Jon to slap him from the way he was cringing away.

“Tell me, Martin.” The large man was looking anywhere but at his boss. “What do you plan on doing with the supposed cat if you find him?”

Martin stood a little straighter, clearly relieved at the nature of the question. “Oh! Well, I’d check to see if it has tags, and if you’d let me, since it’s so early I might try and take it to check for a chip before work really starts. I’m not sure what I’d do if it were a stray, I could just put it back outside but… I’d worry.
Or wait, were you asking how I’d catch it? Oh I don’t know, it depends on how the kitty acts-”

Jon held up a hand. “Okay that’s enough.” His heart was still racing but it was a respectable enough response that he didn’t need to hear more.
“Get ready for work, don’t waste anymore time chasing after a cat that may very well not exist.”

He turned and marched back to his office before the useless oaf of a man could stumble his way through anymore excuses. Once the door was closed and he had some privacy he shredded some paper scraps to calm himself down.

~

Martin’s hands were shaking as he put the kettle on.

Jonathan Sims was the perfect recipe to make a mess of him. He was so unassuming looking, being a full head shorter than him and dressed in scarves and skirts with a voice so captivating every word he said cut him to the bone. And his eyes. They were such an intense and beautiful shade of green, yet so full of life and emotion Martin couldn’t help but wither under his gaze.

When Mr. Bouchard had transferred him he had been so excited and so, so nervous. He wasn’t qualified for the archives, he wasn’t even qualified for the library! He had wanted so badly to make a good impression on his first day and instead he had let a dog into the archives and failed to recognize his boss, so he’d made a fool of himself immediately. Today was looking to be something of a repeat of yesterday’s events.

As he waited for the water to boil he scanned the break room for any sign of a cat. He had been fairly certain he had heard one, but maybe his nerves were getting to him and he had imagined it.
What if Mr. Sims didn’t like cats? He hadn’t seemed to like the dog very much once he and Tim had managed to catch it.
If there was a cat loose in the archives he didn’t know how that would affect things, but he was sure it would come back to bite him eventually. Figuratively and maybe literally.

The kettle began to whistle and he turned it off. He was about to begin pouring cups for himself, Tim, Sasha and Mr. Sims when he realized he didn’t know how Mr. Sims liked his tea. He had asked the other two yesterday, but he had been trying to avoid his new boss until things calmed down and never got the chance to ask.

Martin steeled himself to go to the office and find out. It was the only way.

He paused at the office door and tried to listen for any clear signs that he would be interrupting something important. He thought he could hear muttering but couldn’t make out any words. He was about to knock when the door opened and Jonathan Sims was looking up at him from the doorway. The shorter man’s pupils constricted as he focused on Martin and something about them made Martin feel like he was prey about to be torn to pieces. He took a step back to put some space between them.

“S-sorry! Just wondering how you like your tea?” He hoped his smile was friendly and didn’t look as strained as it felt.

Mr. Sims’ face was unreadable as he responded. “I only drink herbal tea.”

“Oh, I uh, I’m not sure I have-”

“Stop skulking around my office.” The door slammed shut in Martin’s face.

Martin retreated back to the break room where he had left the cooling kettle.
How could he have messed that up so badly! Not only did his boss now think he was some creep eavesdropping through his door, but he didn’t even have tea he could make him!

He made the other three cups of tea, and by the time he had done that and gotten his desk cleared off, Tim and Sasha were coming down the stairs.
He could pick up on bits and pieces of their conversation and he could hear his own name being said.
The pit in his stomach that had been growing steadily that morning all at once became much worse. He thought Tim and Sasha liked him, or at least didn’t mind him, but what were they saying? He tried not to assume the worst as his two other coworkers entered the bullpen.

“Morning Marto!”

“Good morning.”

He managed a smile hearing their genuine sounding greetings.
“Morning, Tim. Morning, Sasha. I made you both tea.”

“Awesome!” Tim picked up his cup and took a sip. “This is why you’re my favorite coworker.” He stuck out his tongue at Sasha when he said it and she just rolled her eyes.
“Thank you Martin.” She said as she got set up at her desk.
Martin felt instantly better seeing how they both seemed at ease with him and grateful for the tea.

For the next few hours things seemed to be looking up, or at least they weren’t getting worse. Mr. Sims had come out of his office to have a team meeting about how they were going to start organizing the archives and assigning everyone jobs. Martin was given the task of sorting through the cabinets in document storage and figuring out what archaic filing system the previous archivist had been using. It very much seemed like a job that would keep him away from everyone else, but Mr. Sims hasn’t been snippy about it so Martin would take what he could get.

Once lunchtime rolled around Tim appeared in document storage with a smile on his face.
“Hey, Marto, Sasha are gonna go to the canteen for lunch, wanna come with?”
“Of course!”

Once they were settled in at the canteen with their food Martin finally worked up the courage to ask about their boss, “Is Mr. Sims not joining us then?”

Tim shrugged. “I gave up inviting him to lunch at the canteen about two years ago.”

“So you didn’t even ask?”

“Naw. If I’m gonna sit outside and it would be just the two of us he’ll sometimes come with, but in the canteen? Forget it.”

“Jon’s a bit of an antisocial.” Sasha added. “It takes him a long time to warm up to someone.”

“I see….” Martin poked the tomatoes in his salad around instead of eating them.

“Speaking of which,” Tim continued. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s been cranky lately but I think it’s just cuz he’s stressed. Being head archivist is quite the jump up from researcher.”
Sasha frowned a little but didn’t say anything.
“Now don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way,” Tim continued. “But I don’t think he should have gotten the promotion.”

“Tim…” Sasha’s brow creased.

“What? You know it should have been you, Sash. Don’t get me wrong, Jon’s my buddy and, you know, good for him and all that, but it’s some real sexist bullshit if you ask me.”

Sasha sighed. “You know the last archivist was a woman right? And Jon’s not the most masculine person around. No, I think there’s something much more unprofessional at the root of it.” She wolfed down a few more bites of her pasta before she continued talking. “Jon will figure out what he's doing, I’m not worried about him, but if my suspicions are correct I’ll have to give Elias a piece of my mind, and it won’t be pretty.”

“We might be in for a treat Martin! Watching someone get chewed out by Sasha is a sight to behold!”

“So what do you think is the reason Mr. Sims got the job?” He asked Sasha.

“I won’t say yet, I need to be sure before I say something that could start rumors.”

“Well now I want to know even more!” Tim was trying to steal a fork full of her food.
She slapped at his fork with her own, which only ended in a mini fork fight between them. “You’ll just have to suffer the pain of not knowing.”

“You’re cruel Ms. James.”

“And I love to be cruel, Mr. Stoker.”

The topic of conversation quickly shifted to Sasha telling creepy stories from artifact storage, while Tim added low quality sound effects during the really weird parts that only served to undermine the suspense. Martin tried to pay attention, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how Mr. Sims might be feeling overwhelmed too.
If there was only some way to make him understand that they were in the same boat without revealing too much about himself and not making his boss feel like he was belittling him.

Chapter Text

At the end of their second day in the archives Tim had suggested they all get dinner together, an idea that everyone liked except Mr. Sims.

“Actually, I’m planning on staying late tonight to get more work done.” He said as he surveyed the chaotic archives.

“But you didn’t eat lunch, you can’t skip dinner too.” Martin sounded concerned but his worries only served to annoy his boss.

“I’ll be fine, I just want to get this place organized as soon as possible.”

Tim waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, Boss. It’ll be here tomorrow. Besides, it’s gonna take way longer than one night to get this place put together.”

"Still,” Mr. Sims was looking around the archives instead of at his assistants, “A few extra hours put in here and there adds up.”

“How about we order food and stay here for dinner? We can go out another night.” Sasha suggested.

“Sure why not?” Tim pulled out his phone to look up places they could order from, and Martin just nodded in agreement.
Mr. Sims sighed, “Very well. I’m not going to force anyone to leave, and since it’s after hours I can’t force you to work either.”

While they waited Mr. Sims tried to work more, but after about fifteen minutes Sasha had started a documentary about mushrooms on her laptop and he had sat down to ‘just watch for a few minutes’ and ended up falling asleep before Tim left to get the food. They let him nap, curled up in his chair.

Martin and Sasha had been talking about the best way to get bread to rise correctly when she interrupted their conversation to point at their boss.
“Hey! Martin, look at Jon’s socks!”
Martin turned to look at where their boss was asleep in his chair, knees tucked up to his chest. His long skirt was hiked up by the position he was in so that they could see his shoes and socks. His socks were mismatched, the one on his left foot was just visible under the edge of his skirt and it was a thick, fluffy brown one that seemed like his shoe couldn’t contain it.

Sasha giggled at it before turning back in her seat to pick up the conversation where they had left off, but Martin’s eyes kept sliding towards his sleeping boss. When Tim arrived with the food Mr. Sims finally stirred and stretched awake. While Tim and Sasha started getting their food, Martin looked at him one final time before he got out of the chair to get his own portion. He could still see his socks, but his left one was now a basic, thin black one that matched the one on his right foot.
Martin frowned. What had happened to the fluffy brown one he had just been wearing?

“If anyone wants any of the lamb curry they had better hurry because Sasha is about to take it all.” Tim’s warning pulled his attention away from his boss and to the food.

Mr. Sims was standing now and muttering something about wanting some lamb as he grabbed a paper plate.
Martin shook his head. No sense in worrying about socks when there were friends and food that needed his attention.

The rest of the evening went incredibly well. The food was good, the mushroom documentary was entertaining and by the time they were done they had even convinced Mr. Sims to go home without doing extra work.
When they had all left the institute and were saying their goodbyes by the stairs, Martin couldn’t help but watch Mr. Sims as he walked off into the cold night. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw something brown and fuzzy peering out from under his skirt when the wind hit it just right.

~

Jon limped into his flat and hastily began pulling off his shoes. He hadn’t realized just how tired he was until the others had made him sit down and eat. Once he lost his momentum he hadn’t been able to muster the energy to keep working.
As he settled in for the night he didn’t bother to turn on the lights in his flat, he had excellent night vision and it kept his electricity bill low.

When he had his shoes and socks off and took off the scarf he was wearing, it was like a crushing weight was released from him. Keeping his ears swaddled up for hours was exhausting, and the flow of air against them was refreshing.
Next was the skirt. Skirts were great for hiding his tail in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, but he had to keep it very still, and it was frustrating to constantly have to suppress the natural movement of his tail.

He changed into his favorite set of pajamas, ones that were soft and worn, and he had modified the trousers to better accommodate his tail, as he had done with just about all of his clothes. He had learned to sew for that very purpose at a very young age, and some of his fondest memories were of him and his grandmother sitting on her porch as she taught him to sew. Now he had his own sewing machine and supplies for just about any project he could think of.
Although he never could manage embroidery or knitting, the thicker threads and yarn were always too distracting, and even though he kept his nails short and filed he had often found himself getting snagged on his project and damaging it.
He downed a glass of water and flopped onto his couch, almost immediately falling asleep.

The buzzing of his phone woke Jon up. He rolled over and grabbed it off of the coffee table, wincing at the light when he turned on the screen. It was almost midnight and he had over a dozen new notifications.

Opening his messages revealed that Tim had made a group chat with himself, Jon, Sasha and an unknown number that he assumed to be Martin.

Great. Now Martin had his phone number.

Scrolling through the messages it was mostly Tim sending memes and Sasha criticizing his sense of humor, with the occasional ‘Ha Ha’ from Martin.

He drafted a text saying he was going to put his phone on silent so he could sleep, but before he sent it he stopped to listen to the night time noises in his flat. The hum of the refrigerator, the upstairs neighbor still walking around, the buzz of liveliness that floated up from the pub down the street.

He hated working a day job, it really interfered with his sleeping patterns.

Being awake all day and then sleeping all night? Horrible.

Night time was so lovely. It was quiet and cool and so much more peaceful than day time. Ideally he’d be able to nap off and on throughout the day and be awake for most of the night, but the way human society worked didn’t really allow for that, so instead he was tired all of the time from forcing himself into an unnatural sleep schedule. So even though he knew he should go to sleep, he couldn’t help but roll off of the couch to pace his flat and take in the wonderful night time atmosphere. Over the next few hours he stitched up the hem of one of his skirts which was getting fairly worn and even went for a night time walk before he finally crawled into bed at about three AM.

He was going to start staying late to work more from here on out. It would give him a better opportunity to nap between projects and get more work done in general. He was finally in a place where he could really work towards his goal and he shouldn’t waste any more time than he already had, unexpected Martins notwithstanding.

For now he had to be prepared to do the bulk of the work himself, since telling everything to Tim and Sasha would have to wait until he felt more confident that it was safe to do so.
As he plugged in his phone to charge he checked the group chat again. It had been quiet for a few hours now and he scrolled through the new messages as he laid in bed.
It was more of the same, but there was one from Tim that just said:

“Jon”

And had an attached picture of grumpy cat.
He allowed himself a little chuckle and a bit of fun before the real work began in the morning. He messaged the group chat before setting his phone to silent for the night.

“If I were a cat, I’d be a Somali.”

~

Morning came all too soon, and Jon was not a morning person. He forced himself out of bed all of the time, but he’d rather sprawl out over the sheets and bask in the rays of the early morning sun until the sound of bird song prompted him to get up.

His alarm went off and he woke up with a hiss and reflexively slapped his phone across the room, yanking the charger out of the socket in the process. This was why his phone screen was cracked and he had to buy new cords so often.
He managed to drag himself out of bed and started getting ready for work. He would have to skip the shower since he’d forgotten to take one last night and he wasn’t a fan of having a wet tail, but managed to eat some lunch meat for breakfast and brush his teeth before staggering out of his flat.

While on the tube he browsed a few online shops he liked to order from. One was a clothing retailer and had a lovely looking long sleeve dress he had been considering buying for a while. The skirt of it wasn’t long enough to cover his tail so even if he did buy it he wouldn’t be able to wear it to work for a while. He added it to his cart anyway.

He was the first one there that day, which was something of a relief. He half expected Martin to have beaten him by being grossly early again.
When the others began to show up he went over everyone’s jobs and the progress they had made so far in their first few days, and once the morning meeting was done he retreated to his office.
He was about halfway through the stack of statements he had been sorting when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively smacked his hand down on his desk where he had seen it.

The clock on the wall outside of his office ticked.

He started to pull his hand back when a spider crawled from between his fingers onto the back of his hand.

Jon screeched and jumped out of his chair, slamming into the corner of his desk and then overcorrecting by throwing himself against the wall.

In the blink of an eye Tim burst into the room, brandishing a ballpoint pen like a weapon and quickly scanning the area. “What is it?? What happened??”
Jon had pressed himself into the corner of the room farthest away from where he last seen the spider.
Tim looked at him briefly before venturing towards the desk that seemed to be the source of his boss’ terror.

“What’s going on? We heard screaming.”

Jon could hear Sasha and Martin outside the office but couldn’t see them.

Tim stalked around the desk before snorting and giving Jon an exasperated look.

“Really, Jon? Again?”

“What is it?” Sasha asked again.
Tim slapped his hand down on the desk hard and held it up to show a brown smear on his palm.

“A spider.”

“What about Mr. Sims?” Martin’s voice could be heard somewhere behind Sasha.

“I’ve killed it Jon, you can stop cowering.” Tim was shaking his head and moving back towards the door.
Jon was still pasted to the corner, unwilling to step out where his other two assistants could see him.

Tim was talking to Martin and Sasha and ignoring Jon now. “He always does this. Sees a spider, tries to kill it without thinking and loses his shit if he doesn’t get it right away. He does it with other bugs too but only freaks out if it’s a spider.”

“You already killed it?” Martin sounded disappointed. “We could have put it outside, spiders are really good for the environment.”

“They’re despicable.” Jon spat the words, and even though none of his assistants were in the room where he could see them he could hear more than one of them sigh.

“Yeah, I know buddy.” He could hear the smile in Tim’s voice. “Next time just come get one of us and we’ll take care of it.”
He heard the three of them walking away and once he was sure he was alone he sank down the wall to the floor.

As far as he was concerned, spiders weren’t good for anything.

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next few months they settled into a rhythm in the archives. They hadn’t made much headway on actually organizing the place, but they had figured out a system for their work.
Jon had decided he wanted to digitize as many statements as he could, in both written form and audio. He and Sasha had brought laptops, but it took the better part of a week to get computers for Tim and Martin. They quickly discovered that there was something about recording in the archives that sometimes caused audio distortion, and in those cases Jon had to resort to using an old tape recorder he had found in his desk when he had been cleaning it out.

Before long, he had a rather low opinion of Gertrude Robinson and her ability as the Head Archivist.

With the state of disarray that the archives were in, it was going to take years to fully organize everything, and the longer it took to organize things the longer it would take for him to make any actual progress with his personal mission.
He found himself staying later and later each day, and getting into work as early as he could manage to try and speed things along as much as possible.

Soon he was keeping clothes in his desk and sleeping in a spare room most weeknights.
Going home only ended up being a waste of time when all he’d really be doing is going back to eat and sleep.

The more time he spent in the archives, struggling to organize things and find statements that might actually be relevant to his mission, the more irritable he became.
Soon he found himself avoiding his friends, and Martin, unless he needed to talk to them about work. He had tried to be civil with Martin in the beginning, but even he could recognize that he was starting to be outwardly hostile towards the man. He had even been short with Sasha on a few occasions and snapped at Tim to shut up when he was joking about “spooky boats” or something to that effect.

As time passed Jon’s behavior became more self destructive and toxic, and as a result things became tense in the archives.

It came to a head when Tim was telling Martin about the movie he had watched the night before and was talking just a bit too loud for Jon’s taste.
He threw his office door open and snapped at the two of them. “Maybe you should spend less time blabbering about pop culture dribble and more time actually working !”
Martin had stammered out an apology, but Tim had stopped leaning against his desk to stand at his full height.

“Actually, why don't you stop being a massive dick.”

“I beg your pardon???” Jon had been about to close his door again but Tim’s response made him freeze in place.

“Yeah, you heard me. Ever since you got this job you’ve been a major douche! I thought we were friends, but I guess not! I guess you’re too far up your own ass to care if you’re being a prick .”

Jon spluttered, not sure how to respond and instead looked to Sasha for some sort of input. She was scowling at him and the meaning was clear; she also thought he was being a dick.
“I’m not-”

“Oh yeah?” Tim was in his face now looking very pissed. “What’s your excuse? I’d love to hear it.”

Jon bit back a growl. His instincts were telling him to claw Tim and run, to hiss, bite and growl until he was safe.
But he looked into Tim’s eyes and he could see the laugh lines around them. Tim smiled so much that there were premature wrinkles in his face. The scowl he was wearing didn’t suit him, it wasn’t right, and it was his fault.
He had been a dick.

Jon fought every instinct he had and bowed his head.
“You’re right, I-I’m sorry.”

He heard Tim take a deep breath but he couldn’t stop now.

“I’m just frustrated.” He looked back up at his assistant, his friend. Some of the rage had eased from his face, but it wasn’t completely gone.
“It’s just- I don’t- There’s information here that I need to find, but everything is so messy I don’t know where to start!” Jon started to run a hand through his hair before remembering the bandana he was wearing and stopped just in time.
“I’ve waited so long for an opportunity like this, and now that I’m here I can’t make any actual progress! I can’t afford to spend years organizing this place, I- I don’t know how much time she has left…..”

Tim blinked and pulled back a little. “What are you talking about? Who’s ‘she’?”

Jon’s heart was pounding and he could feel himself trembling, but there was no backing out now, he had to tell them the basics. Not everything, not yet, but enough.
“My mother.” He stated plainly. He looked down at his hands as he nervously picked at his nails instead of making eye contact with Tim or chancing a glance at Sasha or Martin.
“I was planning on telling you very early on, Tim, Sasha. Because I trust you two. I was going to tell you, I will tell you, I want to tell you, it’s just-” He couldn’t help but look at Martin who was looking at him with something almost like pity.
“I decided I needed to wait longer and then it all just got to me.”
He looked at Tim and then Sasha. “I’m sorry. I am.”

“Jon.” Tim didn’t sound nearly as angry as he did before. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Right, uh….” He looked at Martin again. He really didn’t want him to know about his personal mission, about his mother, about him; but he was backed into a corner and if he wanted to keep Tim and Sasha as both assistants and friends he had to tell them.
“I want to sit down to talk about this.”

Tim backed away and leaned against his desk, but he kept his arms crossed and his eyes didn’t leave Jon. Martin rolled a chair to his boss and despite his distaste for the man, Jon sat in it.

“I am looking for my mother.” He paused but when no one jumped in with questions he continued.
“We were separated when I was very young, I was…..” He didn’t want to use the word kidnapped, people tended to freak out when he used that word.

“..... I was taken away from her. What happened was…. Supernatural in nature, I have no doubt of that.” He had begun to worry at the sleeves of his shirt instead of looking at any of his coworkers.
“I don’t remember her name, my last name isn’t hers, and because of the supernatural elements it’s made trying to find her through any traditional means basically impossible. But here? Some of these statements must have clues, connections, themes, anything to help me understand what happened, to help me possibly find her.”

He threw out a hand to gesture to the archives around them. “But look at this place! There’s no rhyme or reason to it! How am I supposed to find statements relevant to what happened if I’m struggling through two hundred years of worth of misfiled folders! Finding her is the reason I accepted this job, if I can’t do it I don’t know what I’ll do!”

Horrible memories came flooding back to him and he buried his face in his hands and he tried to pull himself together. It wouldn’t do for them to see him have a full breakdown yet.

He heard Tim sigh and felt a hand gently rest on his shoulder.
“Geez boss, you could have just said that instead of going feral.”

Jon sat up a little when he felt Tim’s hand massage his shoulder in a comforting way. Martin had disappeared and Sasha had pulled her chair over to sit next to him, and she took one of his hands.

“He’s right, Jon. You should have just told us.” She smiled sympathetically at him, “We’re your friends and if we had known we could have helped more.”

The message was clear, it wasn’t okay for him to take out his frustration on them, but they were still his friends and they wanted to help.
He took a shaky breath. “Thank you. Truly, thank you.”

Martin returned with a cup of herbal tea and offered it to Jon. He accepted and Martin gave him a soft smile. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want to help you find her.”
Jon could only nod, not trusting himself to try and speak.

After a few moments of silence Sasha spoke. “Jon.” He looked at her. “You said that when you were separated it was supernatural, if we’re going to help we should know what happened.”
He shook his head slightly before he could manage to speak. “I don’t think I’m up to telling the story now….. But statements regarding things like fire…… flesh and….. Mutations….. And Spiders would be relevant.”
Tim let out a soft whistle. “Sounds like it’s a pretty intense story.”
Jon winced a little, “I’m afraid so.”

Tim seemed to come to a decision in his own head and walked over to his desk and grabbed a box of statements. “I’m gonna get started on these. Martin, you grab that box there and I’ll race you to see who finishes theirs first.”
“Okay! Yeah!” Martin gave Jon a nervous smile that was probably meant to be encouraging, before he picked up his own box.
Sasha was on her computer, presumably also working on researching the things Jon had mentioned.

“Oh and I have one demand.” Tim said as he turned back to his boss. “We also look into statements that have to do with clowns and circuses.”
Jon finally managed to stand. “Right, yes. Fire, flesh, spiders, clowns and circuses. Those are our focuses.” He didn’t need to know why Tim was interested in those things specifically, he was sure Tim would tell him in time, but for now they would work with what they knew.
The Archivist felt a warmth blossom in his chest as he watched his friends act to help him. He took a box of his own and moved to his office, but he left the door open. As he listened to them speak softly to each other and sift through paper, he allowed himself to purr quietly to himself.

~

Jon practically skipped down the stairs to the archives. Following the fight and reconciliation yesterday, he had actually left work on time and had caught up on a lot of sleep.
He was still beating down the shame that threatened to overwhelm him. He had lost hold of his professionalism, abused his power at work and basically had a breakdown in front of his assistants and he wasn’t proud of any of those things.

However, now was not the time to wallow in his guilt and insecurities, there was work to be done.

He was ready for a long, productive day with no more drama or personal issues getting in the way.

He walked into his office and froze, a growl working its way up his throat.
There were flowers on his desk. Not just any flowers.

Lilies.

Jon hadn’t had lily poisoning since he had been nine, but it had been miserable and if it weren’t for his grandmother’s background in nursing it might have killed him. There had never been lilies in her home after that, and he had been very careful to avoid them since.
Despite that he was looking at a bouquet of flowers containing lilies on his desk, in his office, in his archives.

He stood in the doorway and pondered what to do and how they could have gotten there. Either someone had come in early or had come back after everyone had left yesterday and put them there. He could see a card with them, but he wasn’t about to approach before he had a plan. He would need gloves, and something to cover his mouth with so he didn’t inhale any of the pollen, and then all that was left was to have a place to dispose of the cursed flowers. He could use some paper towels to pick up the vase and make sure he washed his hands thoroughly after he was done, and he had an extra scarf he could wrap over his nose and mouth.

He had managed to take the vase of offending flowers out of his office and was holding them over the bin ready to drop them when Martin appeared.
“Good morning, Mr. Sims!” He had a big smile on his face that vanished when he saw what Jon was doing.

“What are you-?”

“I’m very allergic to lilies.” Jon said as he dropped the bouquet into the bin and Martin winced at the sound of the vase breaking. He tossed the paper towels and quickly went to the break room sink to start vigorously scrubbing his hands and forearms.

“You really are allergic, huh?” Martin seemed to mostly be saying it to himself but Jon still responded.

“Yes, just the pollen will make me sick.”

Martin didn’t question him and just nodded apologetically.
“S-sorry! If I had known I would have gotten you different ones, or something else altogether. I just- Well I wanted to do something for you after, ya know, yesterday and everything and-”

“If you brought them you need to wash your hands in case there’s any pollen on them.”
Jon cut him off and carefully removed the scarf on his face before tossing it aside.
“And if you’ve touched anything you should wipe it down. I’ve got to make sure my desk is pollen free.”

He left Martin blubbering apologizes in the breakroom to decontaminate his office. Once everything was wiped down to his specifications he braved opening the card and reading it.

“Mr. Sims
Thank you for telling us about your mother, I’m sure it was hard. If you ever need anything just ask and I’ll do what I can.
Martin B.”

He put the card in one of his desk drawers and leaned against it, pressing his palms to the wood and listening to the tick of the clock on the wall near the stairs as he took some deep breaths. Once he was ready he went to find the other man.

“Martin.”

The large man looked up from where he had been wiping down handles on a filing cabinet when he heard his boss call his name.
Jon stood there awkwardly, suddenly very aware of how worried Martin looked.

“Thank you. Even if the flowers weren’t the best choice….. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Don’t mention it, and sorry again about the lilies.”
Jon turned to go back to his office when Martin spoke up again. “M-Maybe I could treat you to lunch sometime, to make up for it?”
Jon didn’t turn back to look at him but he did pause to respond. “Maybe.”

He didn’t say anything more before leaving.

Chapter Text

Jon turned off the tape recorder and closed the folder that held the statement he had just finished recording.
It was the statement of Antonio Blake, or whoever he really was, and it had to do with his dream about Gertrude’s death.
Jon didn’t put it away immediately, he kept the folder in front of him as he picked at the corner of it. He had had to use the tape recorder for it. There was always a certain amount of dread that the statements he used the tape recorder for instilled in him, and this one was no exception. Most of the time he could brush the feeling off and get on with his work, but this one was about his predecessor. He had been careful to avoid the archives and more so the archivist before being promoted. It seemed like the place where he would be most at risk of his secret being exposed, a place without other researchers to hide behind and a woman who had spent roughly fifty years hearing about paranormal events.

Still, he wondered about her.

Maybe if he had ever worked up the courage to approach Gertrude Robinson before her death she could have helped him.
Although, if the state of the archives was anything to go off of, she probably had just been a tired old woman whose work had out paced her.

He finally picked the folder up and went to find Sasha. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes of loose papers and was sorting them and stapling them.

“Sasha,” he said as he approached and sat on the floor next to her. “You met Gertrude Robinson didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“What was she like?”

Sasha hummed a little as she thought about it, still stapling papers all the while.
“She was a stone cold bitch.”

Jon was glad she wasn’t looking at him because he couldn’t stop his tail from flicking a little in surprise.
“Really?”

“Yup, and she was sharp too.”

“Really?” He repeated as he looked around the archives.

“Oh yeah. Don’t let this mess fool you, Gertrude Robinson was cunning and intense right until the moment she died. Of that I’m sure.”
Jon held up the folder he was carrying. “Have you read this statement? It’s about her. Someone claiming they dreamt of her death.”
Sasha finally stopped what she was doing to skim through it. “Weird.”

“Indeed.”

“Jon,” She looked up from the folder to make eye contact with him. “Why did you never make a statement about what happened? About your mother?”
He shifted a little uncomfortably. “There’s….. A lot to the story. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I think telling the whole story to the wrong people could be….. Dangerous.”

Her brow creased with worry, but he couldn’t tell if she was worried about him or herself.
“Just dangerous for me, that is.” He said hurriedly.

The crease in her brow only deepened.

“I always thought telling the institute about myself would cause more trouble than anything else. I assumed Gertrude was someone who was dangerous, and from your description it sounds like she might have been.”

“Jon, are you in danger?”

“No. No not currently. I mean I don’t think so. I still don’t trust Martin but I don’t think has any ill intent. He’s just annoying….. And sometimes I wonder if he knows what he’s doing.”
Sasha made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “I sometimes wonder if you know what you’re doing.”

“I-” His ears twitched under his bandana. “I know what I’m trying to do. Trust me Sasha, as soon as I find my mother I’m going to step down so you can be Head Archivist.”
She jerked her head up and her face was painted with surprise.

“Did-did I not already tell you that?”

“No.”

“Oh. I thought I had already told you that.”

“No you really didn’t.”

“Ah. Yes, well. I have no intention of working this job forever and you’re much better suited to the position.”
Sasha gave him a soft smile. “You’re not doing too bad of a job, at least now that you’re not taking out your frustration on us all the time.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I’m just teasing.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as she started sorting and stapling papers again and he helped her. After a good twenty minutes or so, Tim sauntered over to them waving a statement folder.
“Hey boss, I got one with spooky fire in it!”

Jon grumbled under his breath that the word spooky had no place in academia as he stood.
“What was that? Couldn’t make out what you were saying.” Tim held the folder over his head knowing full well that Jon was too short to get it from him without jumping, and he was fairly certain he would never.
Sasha rolled her eyes and turned away from them to continue what she was working on.

“I said that ‘Spooky’ isn’t a word suited for a professional work environment.” Jon was holding out a hand and looking at the statement Tim was holding up with a frown.

“Hate to break it to you boss, but this isn’t a professional work environment. I mean, just look at the cork board!”
Following their confrontation and Jon’s confession, they had set up a ‘research board’ in the bullpen to keep track of the statements that seemed relevant and the people and places mentioned in them. It was mostly bare, but Tim had made some labels for it that read, “Haunted Fire”, “Evil Spiders”, “Shitty Clowns”, “Flesh (gross)” and “The Circus (Derogatory)”. It was silly, but it helped everyone reconcile after a stressful month.

“..... The board aside, we are still working for a prestigious institute.” Jon raised his hand a little in the hopes that Tim would take the hint and give him the folder but he only smiled wider and stretched to raise it higher.
Tim had decided that he had every right to pick on Jon and be as unprofessional as he could get away with following his boss’ temporary hostility. Jon was tolerating it as he hadn’t done anything that actually crossed any lines and he was secretly enjoying having Tim treat him the same way he used to when they both still worked in research.

With that in mind, he wasn’t sure how long his assistant was going to keep up the childish game of holding the folder out of his reach.
The corner of Jon’s mouth twitched as he fought a smile and Tim raised an eyebrow when he noticed the mischievous glint in his boss’ eyes.
Tim didn’t think Jon would ever do something so embarrassing as try and jump to take the folder from him, but he wasn’t aware that his boss could actually jump very well.
With little more than a flick of his tail as warning, Jon sprung into the air and snatched the statement from Tim’s hand, landing a few steps behind the other man.
He hadn’t tried to jump in a skirt in years and without being able to properly use his tail, he lost his balance. When he hit the ground he fell against a box of statements and they fell out and rained down onto him.

“WHoa!” Tim spun around just in time to see a cardboard box tip over and dump a bunch of loose papers onto his boss.
Jon had one hand on his head to make sure his bandana was still covering his ears, and the other was holding up the statement he had snatched triumphantly.

“That was awesome!” Tim cried.

“Are you alright?” Sasha was standing next to Tim now, hands hovering like she wasn’t sure if she should try and help him up.

“Joke’s on you Tim.” Jon was laughing a little despite himself. “I have an impressive standing jump.”

“No shit!” Tim reached down to help him up.

“Is everyone okay? I thought I heard things falling.” Martin rounded the corner looking worried.

“Yeah, Jon just jumped into a bunch of boxes. You should have seen it!”
Martin looked at the mess on the floor and the few papers still fluttering through the air before looking his boss up and down as the other man smoothed his skirt and adjusted his bandana.

“Well, just so long as everyone is okay. I was about to put the kettle on if anyone wants tea. And Jon, I bought some more herbal teas if you’re interested.”

“Yes, actually. That sounds lovely, but not chamomile.”

Sasha and Tim both agreed that a cup of tea would be wonderful and Martin disappeared back into the break room.
The three of them tidied up the papers Jon had spilled all over the floor as best as they could before going back to their respective tasks. Once the Archivist was back in his office with the door closed he shook his head and rubbed his face. It had been pretty stupid of him to jump like that, but it had been fun. He worked so hard to appear human at all times that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had done something like that.
One thing was for sure, he was going to have to practice before he tried jumping in a skirt again.

~

When Jon had finished recording the statement of Lesere Saraki he added a few things to the research board under the Haunted Fire segment. His three assistants watched as he made and put up labels that read: ‘Cult of the Lightless Flame’, ‘Gerard Keay’ and ‘Heat without a source’.
In the center of the board he pinned up a piece of paper that was just a drawing of an eye he had hastily done in sharpie.

“What’s the eye about?” Sasha asked.

“Gerard Keay had eye imagery tattooed all over him, as well as items depicting eyes that seemed to act as wards against supernatural effects. There’s more to it than that but I can’t put it into words. But it’s important, I’m sure of that much.”

“So are we adding eyes to the list of things to research?” Tim was spinning a pen around his fingers as he looked over the new additions to the board.

“I Suppose so. I can’t see how it would hurt.”

“You can’t see how it would hurt?” Tim was grinning but Sasha just groaned.

“It’s really not very clever Tim, nor is it funny.”

“Well you kn-”

“No. No.” She cut him off. “No uninspired puns, no sad attempts at word play. No.”

“I’ll make you regret trying to establish those terms.”

As Tim and Sasha went back and forth, Jon left the board to get back to sorting through the box of statements he had been working on before Tim found Case #0121102.

“Knock knock!”

Jon jumped out of his chair when he heard the voice. He was glad he was behind his desk so Martin couldn’t see the way his skirt fluttered when he flicked his tail.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you! I just brought you a cup of tea.” The larger man set a cup of herbal tea on the edge of Jon’s desk.

“Right. Thank you.” Jon pulled the mug closer to him and away from the edge. He expected Martin to leave but instead he hovered in his office looking like there was something he wanted to say.
After sitting back down and taking a sip, Jon’s eyes darted towards his assistant awkwardly. “Do you need something?”

“Oh! Well, since you’re asking,” Martin began. “I was just wondering about your mum.”
Jon tensed. It had only been a matter of time before one of the archival team had asked him for more details, but he had expected it to be Sasha.
He had hoped it would have been Sasha.

Seeing his boss’ hesitation, Martin tried to explain himself. “I mean, I know it’s probably a sensitive subject, but if we know more about her it could help us find her.”
It was a fair point, but he hated that it was Martin asking. If he was going to talk about her more, he’d rather do it with the group. Without acknowledging Martin he went and stood in the doorway. “Tim, Sasha, if you have a moment I’d like to tell you more about what happened.”

The other two quickly abandoned their argument on the correct way to pronounce the word ‘Egg’ and joined them in the office.
When everyone was in, seated and the door was closed Jon took a deep breath.

“Right. I’ve kept you all in the dark about some things for long enough. Martin was asking for details about my mother and unfortunately I can’t give many. I was about four or five when we were separated and most of my memories from that age have faded. I don’t remember her name, my last name is the name of the woman that cared for me after our separation. If I recall correctly, she was middle aged at the time, so she must be fairly elderly now as that was over two decades ago. I could probably recognize her if I saw her, but I know for a fact I’d be able to recognize her voice. I remember her voice so vividly.”

Everyone was giving him their rapt attention, and there was a part of him that adored it and another part that wanted to curl up and hide. He liked being the center of attention, but he wasn’t a fan of being stared at so intently. He cleared his throat and continued.

“When it happened I was alone in our flat. I’m not sure how long she had been out, but remember she had left the radio on, and there was a talk show airing. A man’s voice telling a dramatic story about love. I was trying to ignore it and nap instead, but no matter where I tried to rest it had become unbearably hot. I had some water sitting out and when I went near it it was boiling. I could feel the heat radiating off of it.
At first there was no fire, just that suffocating heat. It became too much to ignore and I wandered the flat and cried since I was alone and trapped there.Eventually something actually caught fire and a neighbor noticed the smoke, however before anyone could come help I got desperate enough to try and get out on my own.”

He paused. This was the part that was hard to explain without telling them everything, and with Martin there he wasn’t about to do that.

“There was a hole in the wall behind the radiator in my mother’s room. It wasn’t big but I was a small child and I was desperate. She had covered it up but in my panic I managed to tear my way through and escape into the basement. Once I was down there it was cool and I remember feeling so much relief when my- my feet touched the cold stone. Thinking about it now it’s as if the only heat in the building was in that flat. I was just going to hide there until my mother came to find me, but then the entrance to the basement opened and I saw an unfamiliar man. I still don’t know what brought him to the building’s basement, but when he saw me cowering in the corner he tried to coax me out. Eventually he became impatient and grabbed me and pulled me out by force. When he touched me it burned.”

He paused again to compose himself.

“I’m sorry. This is where things become difficult to talk about.”

“If you need a minute we can come back to this.” Martin offered.

“No. No. I just need to say it and have it over with.”

His assistants patiently waited until he was ready to continue.

“He stuffed me in a bag, a large duffle I think. I heard him talking to other people. They were asking what he had that was screaming in his bag. He said….. I don’t remember the exact words because I was crying. They talked about the fire, the heat, and it’s safe to say that these people were responsible for the horrible heat in the flat, but I don’t think taking me was part of their plan. That’s just something this particular man did.
When he took me out of the bag we were somewhere I didn’t recognize and it was just myself and him. I don’t know how long I was there with him, but he had books. Leitners. I think he wanted to practice with them. He-”

Jon stopped and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

He could feel a hand covering his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Before anyone asks, none of the abuse I suffered was sexual.”

Even without looking he heard someone release a breath of relief.

“Eventually this man was killed by one of the books he had. It looked like a children’s book. ‘A Guest for Mr. Spider’. I had been allowed to roam around the place where he kept me and I picked it up. The book would have lured me to my death but he took it from me at the last moment and was devoured by a giant spider instead.
After his death I managed to escape and was found by my Grandmother, the woman who cared for me from then on, Martha Sims. The rest is, well, the rest is just my life.”

Finally looking up at the others he could see sorrow, horror and worry written all over their faces.

“I don’t think I can give any more details than that right now.”

He was a little surprised to see that it was Tim who was holding his hand and was rubbing his knuckles with his thumb. “That’s fucked. I’m sorry, Boss.”

He couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat for a while and after a minute Tim spoke again.

“I lost my brother to this shit.”

Jon had nothing to say to that, he just nodded and squeezed Tim’s hand in return.
Everyone was quiet again until Sasha stood and started to usher Tim and Martin out of the office.

“Thank you for telling us. We’ll give you some space.”

Once he was alone, Jon put his head down on his desk and let out a soft cry, not even caring if they heard him. If they did he’d say it was his phone notification. Or not. He could just lay everything out for them, he’d already told them most of it. He could just spit it out that he had been born a cat and whatever had been done to him by that man was the reason he lived as a human. However, thinking about how he had changed was making him nauseous.
He sat with his head down, trembling and trying not to cry for some time until there was a soft knock on his door. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. The knock came again, accompanied by Martin’s voice.

“I brought you something to eat.”

Instead of responding he pulled out his phone and texted him.

“Leave it at the door.”

Jon watched his phone until Martin texted him back.

“I owe you lunch, remember?”

Martin was persistent and Jon didn’t trust it. He hadn’t seemed upset with him when he had been lashing out, he didn’t defend himself when he ridiculed him, he brought him flowers and tea and offered to get him food. He was too amenable. Like a dog.
At least he wasn’t loud, and he seemed to respect Jon’s personal space.
Jon so desperately wanted the care Martin seemed to show him to be real, but it was just so unbelievable. So, so unbelievable.

He finally managed to text back.

“What sort of lunch?”

“I have a turkey sandwich out here, but I’ll get you anything you want. =)”

“Even sushi?”

“If you want sushi, then yes.”

The phone sat like a lead weight in his hand as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. Good sushi was expensive and Martin frustrated him.
He sent a final text.

“Leave the sandwich in the fridge. I’ll get it at some point.”

It took a few minutes for Martin to respond.

“Okay.”

Maybe he’d have sushi another day.

Chapter Text

The cold night air bit at Martin’s nose and ears as it wafted in from the front door every time someone came or went. He could move away from it, avoid the draft and join one of the jovial conversations and load up a plate with cookies and hours d’ouvers, but for now he’d rather hover by the library’s entrance so he could keep track of who had arrived.

The Magnus Institute annual Christmas party was usually held in one of the spare meeting rooms, but this year it was in the library.

Taking in the décor, Martin felt a pang of loneliness that he hadn’t been able to help decorate or set up the party, and his old coworkers from the library were busy talking and laughing amongst themselves. None of them had even noticed him.

He could see Elias Bouchard mingling by the fake Christmas tree, a glass of something alcoholic in hand and a practiced smile always present but never reaching his eyes.

Tim had been one of the first people to show up, looking like an athletic Santa whose fake beard kept ending up crooked or backwards. From the bits and pieces of his conversation that Martin could pick up, it sounded like he was comparing everyone’s fashion tastes, and David’s was the worst.

Sasha was catching up with some old friends from artifact storage, green and red ribbons in her hair and wearing the world's gaudiest Christmas jumper, complete with rhinestones.

Another wave of cold air hit him and he turned to see two more people enter. He didn’t recognize either of them so he turned his attention back to the party.

“Hello, Martin.”

Martin startled hearing a familiar voice address him and looked back at the entrance to see Jonathan Sims standing just a few feet behind him.

“Mr. Sims! I didn’t see you come in!”
He must have slipped in behind the last pair of people before the door closed since Martin hadn’t bothered to keep watching them.

“I can be very quiet when I want to be.”

Martin wasn’t sure what to say to that so he just made a noise of agreement and desperately tried to think of something else to talk about.
Mr. Sims was awkwardly shifting from one foot to the next as he scanned the library, taking in the scene before his eyes landed on the Christmas tree and the shorter man’s pupils dilated.
Martin watched as his boss froze like a deer in headlights and just focused on the tree like it was the only thing in the room.

He bit his lip and felt his face flush. Jonathan Sims was adorable.

Despite his grouchiness and how seriously he took himself and wanted everyone else to take him, he was just a very silly man.

He wasn’t wearing a skirt today, Martin noted. Instead he had on a long brown coat, a very large, fuzzy brown jumper with a pattern of geometric trees and reindeer, a thick green scarf, black slacks and tasteful brown winter boots with a bucket hat that matched his jumper.

He was awkwardly holding a poorly wrapped package, which must mean that he did it himself.

Oh.

Oh no.

Martin had been trying to convince himself that he didn’t have a crush on his boss for some time now, but seeing him standing there awkwardly, eyes glazed over as he took in all of the sparkling holiday decorations, there was no denying it.
Just standing next to him was making his heart flutter and his face heat up. It was a relief that Mr. Sims was looking anywhere except at him.

“Jon!”

Hearing Tim say his name broke whatever trance Jon had been in and his head snapped in the direction of his friend’s voice.

“Jon, how could you do this to me??” Tim’s Santa beard was on the back of his head like a curly gray mullet and the elastic band ran over his cheeks and nose.

“Tim, what are you talking about?”

“I was just telling everyone how you dress like a grandma and manage to pull it off, and here you are, dressed like a grandpa instead!”

Jon just frowned a little so Martin interjected. “He’s still pulling it off.”

“That’s the worst part!” Tim threw up his hands in mock despair.

“Jon! Martin! You two finally made it!” Sasha had worked her way over to them, gift bag in hand.

Martin didn’t tell her that he had been there since the party started and nobody had noticed.

“Yes, well, I had to do a few things before coming here.” Jon’s eyes kept darting towards Sasha’s jumper every time one of the rhinestones reflected the light which was basically all of the time.

“I don’t intend to stay long, so….” he held up his poorly wrapped package.

Most departments at the Institute had a secret Santa each year, and according to Tim, Jon had never participated in the one held in research. Now that it was just the four of them in the archives they had managed to bully him into agreeing to one this year.

“We’re not letting you give your gift and split, boss.” Tim shook his head a little.

“You’re going to at least have some cookies and tell Maranda from HR about the new pain shot for cats they’re making, or whatever.”

“It’s Osteoarthritis pain management research, and it will be a few years before it’s approved for clinic use, I’m sure.” Jon corrected.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! I’m sure you two would have a blast discussing it!”

Tim was ushering them away from the entrance and by extension the cold air as they talked.

Usually Martin felt a stabbing sense of sadness when he was ignored, but in that moment the fact that no one was paying attention to him was working in his favor, because he could unabashedly stare at Jon without anyone noticing. The little ways his face twitched in response to things Tim said, the way the Christmas lights reflected in his eyes, the way he couldn’t keep his hands still and even as they walked and he held his gift he was picking at the wrapping paper.
Martin squinted a little because he was just now noticing the odd shape of Jon’s fingernails.

The nail beds had a triangular shape to them and they were much thicker than anyone else's nails that he had ever seen, and even trimmed short as they were, it looked like they curled down over his finger tips ever so slightly.

Thinking about it, there were a lot of odd little things about Jonathan Sims that he had noticed after working with him for so many months.
It was kind of exciting, taking in all of the little details about the man, learning about his strange quirks and habits.

As Sasha started telling them about the Santa doll that would tell you your own secrets that she had found in artifact storage at one point, Jon’s attention drifted back to the Christmas tree. Martin expected to see that stupefied glassiness reappear in his eyes, but instead his pupils constricted and his face darkened. Following his boss’ gaze, Martin didn’t see anything worrying. It was just more of the same, and he could still see Mr. Bouchard, now holding a different glass of booze, talking to an older man who looked like he would make a fine Santa but was instead dressed in a sailor’s attire.

Actually, he didn’t recognize the man the head of the Institute was talking to, and he didn’t remember seeing him enter. Glancing back at Mr. Sims it was clear that it was this strange man that he was scowling at.

Martin’s brow furrowed with confusion as he looked back and forth between them. As far as he could tell there was no reason for his boss’ hostility, unless he knew something about his man that he didn’t.

Or maybe…..

Mr. Bouchard was surprisingly friendly with the sailor…… Could Mr. Sims be….. Jealous?

The thought made Martin want to cry so he quickly tried to think about something, anything else.

The strong smell of cinnamon from the apple cider, the glint of light dancing off of the many ornaments, the comforting atmosphere of the library buried under the lively buzz of the party, the solitude of a winter night, the silence of the archives when no one else was there…..

“Martin….” Something touched his arm and when he dragged his eyes away from the wall he saw it was Mr. Sims’ hand, gently brushing against his sleeve.
It was like his eyes were looking past the surface and looking into Martin for a moment and his face betrayed an amount of worry and alarm.

“S-sorry. Did you need something?” Martin tried to sound casual but having Mr. Sims’ full attention on him was making him panic somewhat.

“No, you just….” The shorter man paused to find the right words. “For a moment you seemed very far away.”

“I’m right here, feet in the same spot. Heh.” He tried to sound nonchalant but he didn’t think he was doing a very good job.

“Right. You just….” He broke eye contact. “Never mind.”

Martin wanted to ask what he was about to say but then Tim was pulling out his Santa bag and announcing it was time for the Archive Secret Santa.

“I’ll go first!” He thrust a package into Martin’s arms before he could really process what was happening.

“O-oh! Thanks! Thank you!”

“Go on, Marto, open it!”

All three of them were watching him and there wasn’t any reason not to, so he tore through the shining wrapping paper. (which was wrapped much more professionally than Mr. Sims’ package.) From the gift box he pulled out a lovely blue jumper with a flock of doves flying across the left sleeve up to the shoulder. It was soft and new and from a friend.

“Tim, it’s beautiful!”

“What can I say? I’m good at giving gifts.”

“Suppose it’s my turn then.”

He pulled a wrapped present from his book bag and offered it to Mr. Sims. His heart was racing and his stomach doing flips as his boss suppressed a brief look of surprise.

“Thank you, Martin.” He muttered as he took it and tore through the paper with one finger. Watching him, Martin couldn’t help but imagine that his nails might grow into claws if he didn’t keep them trimmed.

When the paper was pulled away Mr. Sims turned the book around with a slight frown until he could properly read the title, then his brows shot up and there was a glimmer of delight in his eyes.

“A Comprehensive Guide to Cats.” He held the book up to show it off to Tim and Sasha.

“This has the history of different breeds, folklore, anatomical diagrams, studies on cat behavior…..” He was mostly muttering to himself as he flipped through the book, but Martin could see a smile spread across his face. This might just be the biggest smile he’d ever seen from his boss, after all he couldn't remember him ever showing his teeth like this before. His strangely sharp teeth……
Mr. Sims pressed his lips back together and looked up at him. “Thank you, Martin.”

“Of course! I- I, uh. Happy you like it.”

Mr. Sims then handed his gift to Sasha.

Opening it revealed a book bag. It was made of lilac colored canvas, and the inner lining was gold and had a silky soft texture.
Embroidered on the side of the bag was her name, “Sasha”.

She turned it over as she inspected it. “Wait, is this-?”

“The seams are reinforced, especially at the base of the straps, and there’s an inner lining that’s water resistant.” Jon pointed out as she looked at it.

“Did you make this?” She asked and he blinked like it should be obvious.

“Well, yes. I couldn’t manage any more embroidery than your name though.”

“Damn boss! This is some fine work. I knew you did a little sewing but nothing like this.”

“Jon, it's incredible.” She slung the strap over her shoulder and moved a few of her things from her pockets to the bag. “Thank you.”
Mr. Sims nodded, but he had a small, happy smile on his face.

“Alright, Tim.” Sasha held up the gift bag she had been carrying around. She handed him the bag, he took a look in it and then threw back his head and laughed.
He was still shaking with laughter when he pulled his gift out of the bag and displayed it for everyone to see.

It was a wood carving, about the size of a cantaloupe, and it looked like a gnome out of your worst nightmare. Bulging eyes, fat, chipped lips, strangely detailed finger nails and all of it had a faded and peeling coat of paint for color.

“What is that???” Martin recoiled from the thing Tim was now holding.

“We saw it at a charity shop a few weeks back and Tim would not stop talking about it.”

Tim was still laughing, holding up his horrible little creature for all to see.

Martin looked at Sasha incredulously, “That thing has got to be haunted.”

“It’s not.” Mr. Sims spoke before Sasha got the chance.

“How can you tell?”

“I have a sense about these things.” Mr. Sims looked back at the Christmas tree but neither Mr. Bouchard nor the man he had been talking to were still there.

Tim was about to start crying from laughing so hard as he cradled the monstrosity. “I'm gonna put it on my desk.” he managed to wheeze around his laughter.

“Please don’t.” Martin stared into the wooden gnome thing’s eyes, and despite how sure Mr. Sims had sounded, he couldn’t believe that it wasn’t haunted.

Tim finally put his gift back in the bag and gave Sasha a hug. “Thanks, Sash. I’m gonna get great use from this.”

“That’s what worries me.”

As gifts were put away and ‘thank yous’ said, Tim and Sasha both wandered back to their respective circles for conversation.
Mr. Sims stayed glued to the same spot he had been in for the gift exchange, but Martin could see his eyes dart around like he was looking for something.
Taking a chance, he loaded up a plate with cookies and snacks, grabbed two mugs of hot apple cider and approached his boss.

“No sense going to a christmas party if you’re not going to partake in the food.”
Mr. Sims accepted the mug of cider but frowned a little. Martin offered the plate of goodies and his boss hesitantly took a sugar cookie.
“There’s a lot of foods that I can only eat sparingly, otherwise they’ll make me sick.”

“Really?” That made a lot of sense. Mr. Sims was constantly turning down food offered to him.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Garlic, onions,” he held up his mug, “Cinnamon, caffeine. There’s more but those are the things that come up the most. That and I’m somewhat lactose intolerant, but I’ll be damned before I give up cheese.”

“That explains why when we had curry you just picked out the meat to have with your rice.” Martin couldn’t help but notice that the things Mr. Sims was intolerant to weren’t common, minus the lactose, and there was something about the list that seemed familiar.

They stood in silence for a while, sipping their cider and munching on snacks, and it was nice. Martin hadn’t really known how to interact with Mr. Sims since, well, ever, but even less so since learning about the other man’s mother.
It made him think of his own mother and the fact that they were both in over their heads.
Martin wanted to talk about it, he wanted to connect with the man standing next to him, he wanted to be open and honest, but what if it cost him his job? Mr. Sims wouldn’t want him on his team if he knew how grossly under qualified he was.

He probably would have spiraled in this line of thought if he wasn’t pulled from his thoughts by a rich and intoxicating voice.

“Thank you, Martin, but I think I’m going to go home now.”

Martin looked at his boss standing next to him as he set his half empty mug on the closest surface and buttoned up his coat.

“Oh, ah, right, um….” He wanted to tell him to stay longer, to let him walk him home, to let him hold his hand, to-
Martin shook his head.

“Good night, Jon.”

He waved and smiled as he watched Jonathan Sims leave, and once he was out of sight he let his shoulders sag and prepared to go home himself.

Chapter Text

“Hey, there’s someone here to make a statement.”

Martin was peering around the door frame into Jon’s office as he finished up with another batch of obviously fake statements. He hadn’t been sure at first but now he was absolutely positive that any statement that could be recorded on his laptop was fake.
He looked up at his assistant. “Right now?”

“Yeah, she’s right out here.”

Jon wanted to question why someone didn’t need an appointment to make a statement to the Head Archivist, but since she was no doubt within ear shot he refrained from doing so.

“Alright, send her in.” He tried to keep the disdain from his voice. If anyone could wander in at any time to make a statement it was going to disrupt his work flow.
When the young lady entered his office it was all he could do not to hiss.

She reeked of fog.

His feline origins meant that Jon had the incredible talent of sensing when something was supernatural in nature or otherwise touched by the esoteric.
He hadn’t been sure about the tape recorder at first, as he was unsure if it was something supernatural itself of if it had just been used to record so many paranormal stories that it had soaked up some of that energy, but he was now firmly convinced that his trusty tape recorder had never been normal.

Elias Bouchard being very deeply touched by the esoteric hadn’t really been a surprise, only in that he hadn’t expected the Magnus Institute to be legit, but meeting Mr. Bouchard had instantly dismissed that doubt.

This woman had a very specific sort of supernatural miasma around her. It was like a cold fog that wanted to swallow her whole and never spit her back out.
What really bothered Jon was the fact that this was his third time in less than a month sensing this sort of isolating essence. The man dressed in sailor attire at the Christmas party talking to Elias had been so heavily drenched in it he had made Jon’s hair stand on end from the other side of the library, and he had felt stray bits of that horrid fog wrap around Martin for a moment that same night.

He knew this wretched coldness, this life choking haze.

He could distantly remember when he had been young and it would lap at his mother’s feet when she got home late at night. He had vague memories of curling up next to her in an effort to chase it away.
Whoever this woman was, her story was true.

His reaction must have shown on his face because she paused in the doorway and her eyes darted around as if looking for someone else she might be able to talk to.

“You’re here to make a statement?” He prompted, hoping to salvage the situation somewhat.

“Yes. Are you the Head Archivist?”

“I am.”

She didn’t even try to hide her frown of disapproval, but she sat in the chair opposite him anyway.
He offered a hand to shake. “Jonathan Sims.”

She took it, but didn’t look any happier with him. “Naomi Herne.”

Jon pulled out his tape recorder without hesitation.
When he set it down Naomi looked at the device and scoffed.

“Don’t tell me you want me to give my statement to that?”

“Miss Herne, we have digital recording equipment, but there is a supernatural miasma around you so strong it’s making the room colder, and I’ve found that actual paranormal stories can only be captured with analog.”
She looked at him with shock. “Is this a joke? Are you messing with me?”

“No I’m not.” He tilted his head slightly as he looked into her eyes. “It's like a fog, isn’t it?”

Naomi’s eyes widened and any more complaints or questions she may have had died on her tongue.

Apparently being somewhat unorthodox and telling her about her own encounter was the way to go, because she didn’t complain anymore and the actual recording of her statement went as well as it could.

When she was finished and set the piece of tombstone on his desk it was all he could do not to hiss at it and smack it onto the floor. The wretched stench of the paranormal rolled off of it in waves and it made his hair stand on end.

-“Mr. Sims? Mr. Sims?”

Her voice finally got through to him and he dragged his eyes away from the offending slab of stone on his desk. “What?”

“I was just asking if your institute could research this stone for me.”

“Oh.” He looked back at the chunk of granite.

He reached out a hand to touch it but pulled it back right before making contact. He did that several times while Naomi watched in baffled fascination.
She pushed the stone a little closer to him and he shrunk back in his chair to make up the distance. She pushed it a little more and he scooched his chair back a touch.

“Do you just want me to-” She pulled the stone back a little as if offering to keep it.

“Um, no.” He shook off his trepidation and stood to call out of his office. “Tim, would you take this item to research? It’s relevant to this case.” Out of everyone he was the least worried about Tim succumbing to a fog of isolation. While leaning out of his office he could also see that Tim had had the forethought to remove the creepy gnome statue from his desk before their guest could see it.

Turning back to Naomi he continued. “We’ll look into this and reach out with our findings.”

“So you believe me? I mean, obviously you do but…. What should I do?”
As Tim came in, picked up the chunk of stone and left he pondered her question.

“See a therapist.” Seeing her face darken he continued. “Supernatural or not, you've been through an ordeal. You might also want to look into community centers, whatever this thing is, it wants you alone.”

When he said the final part of his sentence her outrage melted away and she considered his words and then just nodded. “Well, thank you, I suppose.”
When she left the archives he had to air out his office and tried to fan away the lingering bits of fog.

Chapter Text

“-Statement ends.” Jon turned off the tape recorder and got up to pace around his office before doing his final comments on case #0150409.

Reading the testimony of Carlos Vittery had him both on edge and exhausted. He wasn’t sure but it seemed like recording the seemingly real statements was getting more taxing, although it could be that this particular one just hit too close to home for him.
When he finally managed to calm himself thoroughly enough he settled into his chair again to record his own input and the institute’s findings regarding the case. He usually tried to sound skeptical in his recordings so anyone after him listening to them didn’t get too caught up in what they were hearing and became paranoid. Or maybe it was more for himself? He knew that there were a lot of testimonies stored in the archives that were true, and yet he worked very hard to dismiss their validity unless he was talking to his assistant about them, and even then he had scoffed at a lot of their theories.

He fiddled with the recorder absentmindedly, popping the cassette out of it and then putting it back in over and over again.
Mr. Vittery’s story had made his skin crawl, not dissimilar to the feeling of having spiders skittering over him.

He couldn't help but feel pity for the man, unlike Jon he hadn’t survived his encounter with spiders, having neither a feline’s sixth sense for the supernatural or someone stupid enough to get themselves killed in his stead.
Jon had taken the tape out of the recorder and was now spinning it on his desk with one finger while he used his other hand to anxiously open and close a drawer.

That reminded him of something that he had never managed to wrap his head around. Vittery’s cat, Major Tom had exhibited a cat’s inherent ability to recognize the paranormal, and often avoid it, but Jon could recall no such trepidation when he had picked up A Guest for Mr. Spider.
The other Leitners in his captor's possession had always repelled him, but he had taken and even started to read that particular one without hesitation. Had he even been able to read at the time? He didn’t remember learning to read, he just knew that he could when he had sat down with it, and he had been able to ever since.

The tape he was playing with had steadily begun to spin faster as he lost himself in thoughts of spiders and literacy, and the drawer was now banging loudly as he opened and closed it.

If reading true statements were so strenuous, how had Gertrude managed it for over fifty years?
Sasha had said she was sharp but maybe over the years it had worn her down and that’s why she had left the archives in such a state of disarray.
But she had been human and didn’t have his sense for the supernatural so perhaps it hadn’t been as draining for her?

The tape slipped from under his finger and flew off of his desk onto the floor. It startled him out of his thoughts and he gave his head a good shake.
As he picked up the tape and put away the statement for filing, Elias’ words about Gertrude’s death floated through his mind.

“Died in the line of duty.”

He left his office and made straight for the research board and removed the Evil Spiders segments.

Some part of him thought he should maybe feel grateful to spiders for killing his kidnapper, but he had never been able to take that part seriously.
Spiders were vile, dangerous creatures and they were the natural enemy of cats.

“No more spiders?” Sasha questioned from where she was reorganizing the discredited section, a section that grew everyday.

“Too risky.” He said as he added the folder for case #0150409 to the stack of statements that were real but not useful.
Sasha just raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Spiders aren’t going to help us. If anything they’ll just get someone hurt or worse, and I have no intention of letting anyone get eaten by spiders for the sake of my investigation. Let Tim and Martin know that, I don’t want them spending unnecessary time looking for spider related statements without realizing.”

Sasha nodded.

Jon stretched once he had finished filing everything away and made his way towards document storage. He could really use a quick nap.

~

Jon felt like singing, but not in a human way. Or maybe he did? He had experimented with music in Uni and it had been fun, although it had also been hard on his sensitive ears.
He could start by singing like a human and then transition to yowling like a cat to make up the difference.
He jumped down the last five stairs that led to the archives and threw his hands in the air triumphantly.

Martin was gone!

Albeit he wasn’t gone forever, but for the week at least.

It was cruel of him to cheer over his coworker’s illness, but it was just a stomach bug, it wasn’t like his life was in danger or anything.
Jon was just looking forward to not having to worry about the man screwing something up or snooping on him or just being Martin.
With the interloper gone for a while he could maybe tell Tim and Sasha his secret and really get things back on track.

He pranced around the archives as he got ready for the day. He would need to calm down when the other two arrived, otherwise he was going to out himself as a raging bastard. Even more than he already had.

He slapped his cheeks to try and snap himself out of it.

You’re a professional, Jonathan. A Professional.

He was still flicking his tail playfully despite his best efforts.

When Tim and Sasha arrived he had managed to pull himself together enough that they hopefully wouldn’t notice just how happy he was and end up making the correlation between that and Martin’s absence.
He mostly managed, but near the end of the day Tim pulled him aside.

“Hey, Boss, got a second?”

“Yes, let me just finish putting these away.” Jon unceremoniously shoved a stack of papers into a drawer before properly facing his assistant.

“What do you need?”

“Just to talk.” Tim leaned against the door frame. “You’ve been in a really great mood today.”
Jon tried to play it cool and just shrugged.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good look on you.” Tim held up both hands, fingers formed into a frame and looked at him through it. “Definitely could get used to happy Sims.”

Jon never knew what to do when Tim started being nice to him. The teasing he could just roll his eyes at, but the niceties left him not knowing what to say and fighting the urge to purr.

“But ya, know…..” his assistant continued. “I can’t help but notice that Martin’s not here today.”

Jon again tried to seem nonplussed about it and made a contemplative humming noise, but Tim didn’t seem to buy it as he took a few steps into the room, bending at the waist so he could look down on Jon as if the shorter man was a naughty child.

“Jonathan, don’t tell me you’re in such a good mood because poor Martin is home sick.”

Jon made a dismissive snort. “Tim, what sort of heartless wretch do you take me for?”

“The sort that would be ecstatic if Martin fell ill and was gone for a week.”

“Sounds like you don’t know me at all.”

Tim straightened up but kept his hands on his hips.
“Really, Jon? What is your problem with Martin? I know you’re kinda a grouch but he’s been nothing but nice to you.”

“Maybe that is the problem!” Jon threw his hands out for emphasis. “No one is nothing but nice to me! It’s suspicious!”

“Christ, Jon. God forbid something horrible actually happens at work because I’m sure you’d turn into a paranoid wreck.” Tim was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jon felt his confession roll up into his mouth and sit just behind his lips. It was heavy and sour and he wanted to spit it out so badly.

I’m not human.

I’ve never been human.

He didn’t. It stayed in his mouth like the taste of bile, revolting and thick.
“.... I have good reason to be cautious…..”

“And what is that reason?”

I’m not human.

“I’m……”

I’m not human.

“I’m not……”

I’m not human.

“I’m not done with this statement. Let’s pick this up tomorrow.”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “Sure, whatever.”
He left Jon alone in his office, footsteps growing fainter as he wandered to a different part of the archives.

Jon banged his head against the wall.

Why didn’t he just say it? He could have just spat it out, it was about as perfect a time as any.
It shouldn’t be so hard to open up, it’s not like he’d never told anyone that he wasn’t human before.

Except he hadn’t had he?

The only person other than his grandmother that he had told the whole story to had found out by accident, but he hadn’t told her himself.
Maybe there was something fitting in that, not having control over who did and didn’t know his greatest secret.
He really should go home and practice saying it out loud to the mirror.

In the end, he didn’t practice saying it.

~

When Jon got into work the morning following his latest confrontation with Tim he was very careful to jump straight into work without leaving an opening to continue yesterday’s conversation.
Tim at least didn’t seem bothered and greeted him with a big, cheery ‘Good Morning’ when they had their morning meeting.

“There’s still a lot of loose papers in document storage that need stapled. It’s tedious work but it needs done, now as for follow up research-”

“Oh wait, Boss!” Tim held up a hand and waved it to get Jon’s attention.

“-Yes, Tim?”

“I finished the follow up on a few statements that looked like they could be relevant to our research and put them on your desk last night before leaving.”

“Ah, thank you. I’ll make sure to review and record them.”

When the morning meeting was over everyone scattered to do their respective jobs.
Jon settled in behind his desk and started with the few folders Tim had left for him.

The first two were obvious fakes, one saying they saw a ghost wreathed in flames that sounded a lot like a Halloween decoration ghost with flashing lights, a theory supported by several videos Sasha found online of the ghost in question, and another claiming the clown they hired for their child’s birthday party had eaten a child’s soul. The clown statement was practically incohesive and all of the names and places mentioned were fake.

Jon finally picked up the third statement and looked over the initial information.

Case #9991006, statement of Sebastien Adekoya regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library.

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and he reached for the tape recorder without even trying to use his computer.
He hadn’t gotten very far with his recording when his office door opened and Elias strode into the room.

“Jon, do you have a moment?”

The intrusion pulled him back to reality and he sat up quickly as the head of the institute bore a hole through him with his cold, gray eyes.

“Um, not really, I’m in the middle of recording a statement.”

“Well I just wanted to let you know that Naomi Herne left some comments on you that I want you to review at some point. I’ll send you an email.

“Sorry, what sort of comments?”

“Mostly that she thought you were bizarre, but she didn’t actually complain. I just want you to be careful, we don’t want to upset anyone with ties to the Lucas family, they are patrons of the Institute.”

“Right, of course.”

Elias threw a look over his shoulder. “Where’s Martin?”

“Um, he’s off sick this week.”

“I see. Very well, then that’s all. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Elias closed the door and was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Jon turned back to continue his recording, but his hands were shaking. When he read statements he often became so engrossed in them the rest of the world stopped existing until he was done, but Elias’ intrusion had broken whatever spell he had been under and now the thought of resuming made him want to run and hide somewhere small and dark.
He didn’t know how, but he could already tell what this statement was about and it was going to be horrible to read. He set it down and wandered out to find Sasha.

Luckily he didn’t have to look far as she was just down the hall from his office and he waved at her.

“Sasha, could I get your help with something?”

She stopped rifling through a filing cabinet and approached. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“I was recording this statement but got interrupted. I’m hoping you’ll finish the recording for me.”

“No problem. Do you want me to go over the follow-up notes myself or wait for you to get back?”

“Oh,” He resisted the urge to pick at his nails anxiously. “Actually, I’ll be present for the recording, I just want you to finish reading it for me.”

Her brow creased with worry, a look that was becoming more and more common, but she didn’t argue, just nodded.

They settled into the office and he let her sit in his chair, since it only felt right for the person recording to be behind the desk. As she started reading, picking up from where he left off he stood in her peripheral, picking at his sleeves to keep his hands busy, but he soon felt weak in the knees and sat for most of the recording.

As she read about the Bone Turner’s Tale and how it had transformed Jared Hopworth he fought back the memories that threatened to rise up and consume him.
When she described Jared running with extra limbs he thought of his own and how they had grown longer and the joints had bent and rearranged themselves.

He couldn’t stop thinking about his muscles sliding and reforming under his stretching skin, his fur coating the cold floor as it fell out, his skull aching as it cracked and swelled in size-

“-Jon! Jon!”

Sasha hands were on his shoulders as she crouched in front of his chair, brown eyes shining with a panicked worry as she called to him.
He wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t happening to him, he was in the archives with his friend right in front of him.

“S-sorry. I’m- I’m okay….. I’m okay.” There were tears rolling down his face.

“No.” She said very matter of fact, “You’re not.”

She coaxed him out into the bullpen and then carefully guided him to the break room and made him sit on the lumpy little love seat that was there. While he gathered himself she put the kettle on and as she was doing that Tim appeared.

“What’s going on? I heard Sasha shouting.” His eyes landed on Jon who was no longer crying but was instead shaking as he curled up on the love seat.

“Geeze, Boss. What happened?”

Sasha whispered to Tim but he could still make out the words. “A statement, one having to do with body horror.”

Body horror.

Such a common term for the grisly and gorey, but Jon thought of something different when he heard the term Body Horror.
What had happened to him had been painful, yes, but the worst part was the horror of being aware of his body in a way that he never had been when he was a regular cat.
To know one’s own body and all of the ways it could be hurt, of all the reasons it could be scorned, all of the intrinsic elements that made it fallible, that was a horror beyond what any amount of blood or pain could invoke.
His transformation had been agonizing, but the memory of the pain had long since faded into something he knew, not something he still suffered from, however the reality of the body he now possessed haunted him everyday.
The things that could never pass as human that he had to hide, the things that even though they were human weren’t good enough by the standards of many and the things that he still didn’t understand, these things plagued him. To have once been free from such bodily awareness to now have to live with it constantly was nerve wracking at best and debilitating at worst.

His assistants were still whispering and he was sick of the tension. He was supposed to be having a low stress week without Martin, but so far he’d been confronted about his delight at Martin’s expense and now he was getting pitying looks for being all but forced to relive his worst trauma.

“I need some time alone.” He quickly got up and pushed past them. “I’ll be in document storage if you need me, but I’m hoping you won’t need me for a while.”

Jon wasn’t sure how long he lounged in document storage, but it was long enough that Tim became inpatient and came looking for him.

“Heeeeyyy, how are ya feelin’?”

“Stupid.” Jon muttered without moving from where he was curled up in the corner.

“Stupid for being triggered by some genuinely horrific shit? Horrific shit that is probably similar to something you experienced?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m wasting time.”

Tim came and sat next to him, setting a mug of tea on the floor between them. “You are truly insufferable, you know that? What sort of asshole demeans themselves for having a trauma response?”

“I should be better than this.”

“You should have something to drink and go home early.”

Jon picked up the mug of tea and cradled it in his hands before taking a small sip.
“I’m going to try and get some more work done.” He said at last.

Tim sighed in defeat. “Sure.” He stood and offered a hand to help Jon up which he accepted.
“But how about we go out tonight? Have a good time before facing any more horrors.”

He shouldn’t, there was no good reason to risk exposure going out with Tim, and besides, he didn’t like drinking or eating pub food. He didn’t like crowds or noisy places, and he certainly didn’t like being around drunk people. There was simply no way he could say yes to such an offer.

“Okay, sure.”

He just said yes.

“Awesome!” Tim had that big goofy grin that he got when he was excited. “Meet you after work at seven by Freddy’s corner store.”

Jon just knew he was going to regret this.

Chapter Text

It was seven in the evening and Jonathan Sims was standing on the sidewalk outside of Freddy's corner store.

7:01.

Typical of Tim to be late to a meet up he planned.

Jon paced around, keeping an eye on his watch and growing more and more frustrated because he couldn’t lash his tail back and forth.
He had decided to wear one of his large, long jumpers and wrap his tail around himself under it. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as a skirt but he was less likely to give himself away by moving it too much if he couldn’t. Between that, his long brown coat and his trusty trilby hat he felt fairly confident he could get away with having a night out.

Besides, even if there was a costume malfunction he had two backup strategies:
Gaslighting and pretending to be a furry.

He hated both and wasn’t good at either, but it was nice to at least keep them in consideration.

Albeit neither of the strategies were likely to work on Tim.

When Tim did show up he was wearing a white T-shirt with a Budgett’s Frog image and the text BECOME UNGOVERNABLE on it, an unbuttoned red flannel over that, jeans and very new and expensive looking sports shoes.
It was late February and this man wasn’t wearing a coat.

“Hey Boss! I half expected you to stand me up.”

“Tim, where is your coat?”

The taller man shrugged. “It’s not that cold.”
Jon just shivered in as a response.

“If you’re that worried about me catching cold, let’s get inside. The Old Knight Pub has a special on their chips tonight.”
Jon followed Tim around the corner to the pub and tried to prepare himself to actually enter the place. Even from the outside, the sounds and smells coming from The Old Knight were making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his mouth salivate.

Walking inside was so much worse, the talking, the music, the smell of food cooking and sweat and alcohol, the way the lights reflected off of the floors and the glasses, the heavy smog of cigarette smoke, it was a lot for him and he bit back a wail of disgust.
Tim, not being as sensitive to these things as him, didn’t bat an eye, rather he inhaled deeply when they set foot in the building and breathed out with contentment.

“Settle in, Boss. We’re here for a good Time!”

Wrong.

Tim was here for a good time, Jon still wasn’t sure what he was doing there.

Before long Tim had a pitcher of beer for himself and Jon had a mocktail (Alcohol is toxic to cats) and they both had food. “As soon as we get some good weather I’m gonna plan a kayaking trip and I’m making you, Sasha and Martin come with. Call it a team building exercise. I also know some good hiking trails, I’ll keep us busy all summer.”
Jon picked at his chips and interjected his own comments here and there.

“I don’t like water.”

“Well you won't be in the water, you’ll be on it! That’s the point of the kayak!”

“But I could fall in.” Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought. A hot shower was one thing, in those circumstances he could control the temperature of the water and when he took one and for how long, but falling into a lake or river sounded miserable. His tail wasn’t prone to matting and he brushed it regularly, but that sounded like a good way to get mats in his tail.

“You’ll only fall in if you’re really shit at it. Do you know how hard it is to flip a kayak? You’d practically have to be trying. Oh wait up a second-” Tim got up from their table and hurried to the bar where he smoothly got the attention of the bartender, a woman about their age, and seemed to be chatting her up quite successfully. Jon squinted at them as he watched the exchange. Tim kept gesturing back to the table he was sitting at. Eventually after some laughing and what Jon assumed was an exchange of phone numbers, Tim returned with more beer for himself and another mocktail for him.

“She seems like a real nice lady, you should introduce yourself before we leave tonight.”

“Why would I?”

“You need to meet people, Jon.”

“I’ve met plenty of people.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I mean you need to meet people other than your coworkers, you need some friends.”

Jon sipped his new drink and shook his head a little. He resisted the urge to tell Tim that he didn’t have room to talk seeing as he never hung out with anyone other than Sasha beyond hookups and sweet talking someone for a case.

“I have friends. I have you and Sasha.”

“Don’t forget Martin.” Tim flashed him a grin.

Jon looked him dead in the eyes. “I didn’t.”

“Huh, maybe that’s why Elias chose you for the position of Head Archivist.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at Tim inquisitively, prompting him to expound on his statement.
“Just like Gertrude apparently, you’re a stone cold bitch.”

That got a smile out of him. “Finally, some middle ground with my predecessor.”
Jon raised his mocktail glass in a half hearted toast, “To Gertrude Robinson, and whatever the hell she did to my archives.”
“To Martin Blackwood, for helping you become exactly like her.”

They clinked their glasses and Tim couldn’t even take a drink, he just held the glass to his lips as he laughed silently at their mean jokes.
Jon flashed a toothy grin in response but quickly looked away when he saw Tim’s brows furrow a little in response.

“Speaking of Martin…..” He tried to distract from his slip up by starting the conversation back up.

“Have you heard anything from him? I haven’t gotten around to texting him.”
Jon had no intention of texting Martin Blackwood, but he was trying to make himself look good.

“No I haven’t. Thanks for reminding me, I’ll send him a text right now before I forget.” Tim pulled out his phone and tapped away at it for a few seconds.
Putting his phone down on the table he turned back to his boss. “Martin really isn’t so bad, Boss. It’s not like he’s David back in research, you know how he is, him and his bad taste in clothes.”

“You’re scolding me for the way I talk about Martin, and yet you’ll sit here and slander David?” Jon tilted his chin up in a haughty expression.

“That’s different! It’s David! You don’t like him either.”

“I don’t like a lot of people.”

Tim stuffed a few chips into his mouth and shook his head in amusement. “I wish you’d just tell me what’s going on that makes you so jumpy about meeting new people.”

“It’s just complicated.” Jon mumbled and did his best to examine the decor in the pub.

“When isn’t it with you?” Tim took another sip of his beer when his phone buzzed. He checked it and Jon saw his face twitch with confusion. “Huh. That’s either really good or really bad.”

“What?”

“Well I asked him how he was feeling and he just responded with ‘oh, you know’ and a bunch of worm emojis.”

“I beg your pardon? Did he really?”

“Yeah, look.” Tim turned his phone screen so he could see Martin’s response.
Sure enough, there was the cryptic reply. Worms and all.

“That is….. A strange response.” Jon had leaned over the table a little to get a better view of Tim’s phone and after reading the message he sank back into his own chair.

“It sure is.”

“This is why I don’t like him. He’s strange.” Jon guested to the phone in reference to the text.

“You’re strange.” Tim shot back.

“Yes, and so I know that when someone is strange you should be wary.”

Tim shrugged and put his phone away. “Maybe he’s so sick he’s delirious.”

“He could just be like that. How would we know? We barely know the man.”

“Oh my god.” Tim rubbed his eyes. “I know I invited you out but you’re gonna give me a headache. I’m gonna go talk to the cute guy over there instead for a bit."
Fine by Jon, as nice as it was to talk casually with Tim, he also needed a break from socializing.

Sitting at the table alone he spotted a beetle crawling up the wall and watched it intently. If it came close enough he could smack it off of the wall, but until then he just had to be patient and keep an eye on it.
He had only been watching the beetle crawling ever closer for a little while, maybe ten minutes or so before a much more inebriated Tim flopped into the chair opposite of him.
He jumped in his chair and immediately looked up to see the beetle fly away, startled by the sudden movement so close to it.

“Tim! What have you-”

“Jon!” Tim slurred, much more drunk than Jon thought should be the case.

“Heeeeyyyy buddy! I think I should go for the night-I’m starting to-” He wiggled a hand awkwardly, “Wobble.”

“Tim it’s only-” Jon checked his watch only to realize it was almost midnight. Just how long had he been watching that beetle???
His assistant slapped him on the back and stood, but he swayed on his feet. “I gosta go. M’ boss will be real cranky if I’m hungover at work.”

Jon stood too and caught his arm. “You can’t walk home like this, let me help you get back to your flat. It isn’t far is it?”

Tim laughed. “I knew you were a flirt! Wanna take me home?” The drunk man tried to wiggle his eyebrows but it just resulted in him scrunching up his whole face.

“No, I don’t want you to get mugged or walk into traffic. Come on.” Jon guided Tim by the arm out of the pub after paying his tab.

He half guided, half supported a drunk Tim as they stumbled down the road to his flat.
Along the way Tim alternated between telling stories from highschool and singing. When he was singing, Jon would hum along a little because it was preferable to having to try and hold a conversation with his inebriated friend. At least he was a happy drunk.

As Jon practically dragged Tim up the stairs to his flat, Tim started shaking his head and muttering. “You’re a real phony, ya know that Jon?”

“Hmmm?”

“Yeah,” his assistant continued. “You Shaid, don’t look at the spiders, Shpiders are dangerous. But I know You’d look for spiders.”
Jon was trying the multitudes of keys Tim had on his keyring while the other man rambled on. “I remember what you were like in researsh. You swear up and down that a case is bullshit, but then you’re breaking into a flat for evidence!” Jon frowned even as one of the keys worked on the door. He hadn’t broken in anywhere in almost two years.

“You’re kinda scary, ya know?” Tim looked at him with glassy eyes as Jon dumped him onto the couch in his flat.

“No, I don’t know.” Jon got him a glass of water from the tap and held it out while his assistant struggled into a sitting position.

“You’re gonna get us all in trouble. Don’t know how, buchya are.”

“Yes I’m sure. Now drink some water.”

Tim downed the glass and slumped back down onto the couch. His eyes drifted up from his boss’ face to the top of his head and hair.
Jon’s hand flew to his head and he realized his hat wasn’t covering his ears. Frantically looking around he spotted it on the floor at his feet. It must have fallen off when he had deposited Tim onto the couch. He snatched it up and put it back on.

“You’re going grey, bosssss.” Tim smiled drunkenly up at him.

“It’s your fault.” He said hurriedly, “It’s all the stress you cause.”

Tim rolled over and laughed into the couch cushions. Jon could just barely make out his muffled words. “Sasha says the same.”

Jon locked the door to Tim’s flat and went to the window where he opened it and crawled out onto the small ledge under it. Tim had rolled back over and was upside down and halfway off of the couch watching him with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Good night, Tim. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” With that, Jon managed to close the window and jump down the fire escape that wasn’t too far below.
From there it was just the matter of trying to enjoy the night as he walked home, and hoping that Tim was too drunk to remember what he had seen in the morning.

~

Luckily for Jon, Tim didn’t seem to remember seeing his ears, or at least he didn’t bring it up the next day at work, or the day after that, or the day after that.
The days passed and then it was over a week without any comment from Tim, which helped ease Jon’s anxieties, or any signs of Martin coming back into work, which was honestly starting to worry him.

He had had a few more real statements he had recorded since his absence first started and was just finishing the final notes of another one when the door to his office flew open.
The first thing that hit Jon was the stench of rot bubbling through the open door, the second was the fact that Martin Blackwood was standing in front of him.

He jumped from his chair, knocking it to the ground.

“My god! Martin?!”

He could hear a wretched squelching coming from a jar Martin was holding.

“What… What the hell is-? What are these things?!”

Chapter Text

“Martin, are you sure about this?”
Martin Blackwood looked…. Bad. And he smelled bad. Jon was working very hard to not let his disgust show on his face. The man had clearly been through an ordeal and him making disparaging faces wasn’t going to help.
“I just want to make a statement about what happened to me. I mean, it… it’s what we do.”

The larger man was shifting in his seat nervously, eyes dancing around the room and refusing to look at his boss directly. His hair was messy and greasy, he had the beginnings of a beard that he hadn’t had when Jon last saw him, and worst of all there was a jar of spasming worms sitting on the desk between them. Despite Martin’s clear distress, Jon couldn’t help but correct him.

“No, what we do is research statements. Usually those made by liars and the mentally unwell.”

He felt a pang of guilt when he saw Martin flinch slightly. He hadn’t meant to make that sound so harsh.

“Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can't you?”

Could he?

“......That is besides the point.”

“If you're that worried about it, it doesn't need to be an official statement. I just need-”

“No.” Jon cut him off. “That’s not it, go ahead. I’m just-”
He turned on the tape recorder.
“Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding…”

“A close encounter with something I believe to have once been Jane… Prentiss.”

Jon felt another stabbing wave of shame seeing how his assistant stumbled over the name and rubbed his palms against his trousers.

“Recorded direct from subject, 12th March, 2016. Statement begins.”

“Look, I know you told us not to look into the statements about spiders, but I thought I might still be able to find something that would be useful to you, and help with….. You know.”

Martin raised his hands in a placative way when he saw how his boss’ face twisted with frustration.

“Please don’t get cross with me for it! I really thought, ‘it’s just spiders! I’ve been around spiders my whole life without incident’. I actually kinda like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they're sort of cute…”

“They’re not.”

“No, well um….. I mean it wasn’t even spiders that I ended up getting in trouble with.”

“Something you should be grateful for.”

“Of course….”

“Now, please continue.”

“Yes, right-”

Martin told his story, about breaking into the apartment building of Carlos Vittery the first time as well a the second, about encountering Jane Prentiss on his second visit and dropping his phone, about her trapping him in his own flat for two weeks; two weeks during which he had been celebrating his absence.

When Martin had finished he looked expectantly at Jon who was keeping his face as unreadable as he could.

Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute was furious. He had never been so angry in his life.
It was taking all of his control to not growl deep in his throat after hearing his assistant’s tale.

“So, uh…” Martin’s eyes flicked back down to the desk. “Do you believe me?”

Elias’ words rang in Jon’s head.

“Died in the line of duty.”

That was not happening on his watch.

After a measured breath he responded. “I believe you.”
Martin relaxed a little and Jon continued, “Obviously you won’t be able to return to your flat on your own. There's a room in the archives I use to sleep when working late. I suggest you stay there for now. I'll talk to Elias about whether we can get extra security, but the Archives have enough locks for now. It's also supposed to be humidity controlled and, though it hasn't been working for some time, it does mean it's well-sealed. Nothing will be sneaking through any window cracks.”

Martin’s eyes widened.

“Oh, wow. Okay. Wasn’t expecting that, but alright.”

A thought occurred to Jon as the other man was stammering out his thanks.

“Wait, you said you lost your phone two weeks ago?”

“Y-yes? Yes, about two weeks ago.”

“Well in that time, myself and Tim and Sasha have received messages from your phone saying you were sick. The last one I received said ‘you’ thought it might be a parasite.
Seeing how this involves Jane Prentiss I take it very seriously. I’ll talk to-
Oh wait.”

A notification popped up on Jon’s phone as he was scrolling through their text history.

“ I just received another text message. From you. ‘Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.’”

“What does that mean?” Martin looked almost sick with worry.

Jon let a soft hiss escape his lips as he shoved the phone back into his skirt pocket and stood.

“It means I ask Elias to hire some extra security. I should probably warn Sasha and Tim as well. I'll also have a look through the Archives, as I believe we should have a statement from Ms. Prentiss herself in here somewhere.”
He had almost forgotten that the tape recorder was running and stopped it with an aggressive finger jab.
“Recording ends.”

~

“Tim, you look ridiculous.”

“I look prepared is what I do!” Tim stretched his arms wide to show off his ‘Ani-Worm Jacket’. It was an old mackintosh he had added some pockets to and cut the sleeves short, although that was solely for the aesthetic rather than purpose. He had loaded it up with cans of raid, fly swatters and whatever else he had thought would help protect against worms.
“You don’t expect me to walk into the lair of the beast without protection do you? How are we supposed to liberate all of your jumpers if we can’t defend ourselves?”

Martin sighed and zipped up his coat.

Tim had volunteered to help him grab a few necessities from his flat and get him set up in the archives for the time being, but no matter how many times he had told him that there hadn’t been any worms when he had left, he insisted on crafting the ‘Anti-Worm Jacket’ just in case.

“Sure. Alright. Let’s just go.”

When they got to his flat there were no worms. In fact, packing up some things and leaving again was suspiciously easy.
After they had loaded up Tim’s car and were on their way back to the Institute, Tim struck up conversation.
“So, staying in the archives?”

“Yup.”
“You’re gonna see a lot more of Jon while there. You know, it’s not too late to pick the worms instead.”

Martin would have blushed if it weren’t for the memory of being cornered by the walking colony making him shudder.

“I’m pretty sure I can take Jon in a fight if I need to, so archives it is.”

Tim laughed and cranked up the heat in the car. “I would hope so. The man looks like he could be bested in combat by a large squirrel.”
They laughed about their boss for a movement together before Tim’s expression turned a bit more serious.

“But there is something about Jon that’s….. Off? I like the guy well enough when he isn’t bossing me around, in a rude way that is, but there’s something uncanny about him. And you know how jumpy he is. Just be careful while you’re staying there.”

Martin thought about what Tim had said and what he had observed in Jon over the months.

“He reminds me of a cat.”

“Yes!” Tim slapped the steering wheel in agreement. “That’s what it is! Jon’s like if you turned a cat into a man and then forced it to use Microsoft word!”

“Have you noticed his teeth?” Martin blurted.

“His teeth?”

“Yeah.” Martin waved a hand in front of his face as he gestured to his own mouth. “They’re sharp, like, weirdly sharp.”

“I have! A couple of times over the years in fact. But it just seemed like a weird thing to bring up and I thought maybe I had just imagined it. I work so hard to try and get that man to smile or laugh because I desperately want to get a good look.”

“I’ve noticed a lot of other little things too.”

“Like the fact that he’s intolerant to all of the same stuff cats are? Or the way he reacts to any sort of freight by launching himself into the air?”

“Yeeeah, and the way his pupils are oblong instead of perfect circles?”

“You know he really avoided eye contact when I first met him so it took me way too long to notice that. But he also just stares. At everything and nothing! Like you’ll just turn around and see him staring at you.”

They both looked out of the car and tried to absorb everything that had been said while they sat at a red light, the windshield wipers working against the light London rain.

Martin turned to Tim.
“Is our boss a cat?”

“I think our boss might be a cat.”

The light turned green and Tim forgot to go until the car behind him honked.
Shaking his head a little he sat straighter in the driver’s seat. “Jon can’t be a cat! He knows how to use a fax machine!” He threw a hand up and Martin had to press against the passenger seat door to avoid it.

His brain was working in overdrive as he grappled with the question he had proposed. “Maybe he’s like a werewolf, but a cat instead of a wolf? A werecat. Is that a thing?”

Tim shrugged with and made a baffled expression.

“And can’t cats see ghosts?”

“Cats can 100% see ghosts! And you know, now that I’m thinking about it I saw something really weird last week.” Tim had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “We went out the other night, he and I-”

“Like on a date?” Martin blurted, jealousy curling around him.

“Jon’s immune to dates. But that’s besides the point. Anyway we went out and I got a little drunk, more than a little drunk, and he helped me back to my flat and I thought I must just be drunk but I swear his hat fell off and he had funny, cat-like ears.”

“Back up, what do you mean he’s immune to dates?”

“Martin, that’s not the point. What I’m trying to tell you is that Jon has cat ears!”
It was at this point in the conversation when Tim parked outside of the Institute and they sat in the still running car as the rain made everything hazy.
For a while the only sound was the whirr of the heater and the squeak of the still running windshield wipers.

Tim turned off the car.

“Martin, there’s no way Jon is a cat. It-it’s absurd!”

He nodded, “It’s ludicrous!”

“It’s just not possible!”

“Preposterous even!”

They didn’t move from where they both sat, still buckled into their seats.

“We can never speak of this again.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter Text

It was early, very early, and Martin couldn't go back to sleep. He had never noticed just how loudly the clock on the wall by the stairs was. The steady Tick Tick Tick seemed to echo through the archives.
He rolled over on the little cot he had set up in the spare room and fumbled for his glasses. The many cardboard boxes in the archives made for easy, if sort of tacky, tables. He shuffled out of his makeshift “bedroom” and made for the breakroom to at least have a cup of tea and maybe a snack. As the kettle heated up he tried to read the clock on the wall without turning on any lights.

It was around 5 AM. As the kettle whistled and he got himself a mug and picked a tea he reflexively reached for his phone, only to remember it was still plugged in to charge under the cot. Of course, that’s why he didn’t just look at it to tell the time.
He stood in the break room in the empty archives and sipped his tea, listening to the clock tick and the building’s ancient heating system kick on and then turn off.

It was kind of nice. Much better than listening to an evil worm lady knock on his door day and night, but even before that his flat hadn’t been the most peaceful. His upstairs neighbors had been loud, and the intersection right next to his building had poor signage so people were often honking their car horns at it. The pipes had made strange noises and his refrigerator hummed rather loudly.
In the Archives it was quiet. It was nice, even.

This was only his second night since escaping his apartment, but it somehow felt so long ago already.

As he finished off his cup of tea, a thought occurred to him. His conversation with Tim when they had been bringing his things to the archives had been living rent free in his head ever since. Obviously it was absurd, but he had also been trapped by a living worm hive, so nothing could really be ruled out. Martin set down his cup and began to quietly creep towards Jon’s office, although it wasn’t like he needed to be stealthy, there wasn’t anyone else there. Still, he opened the door slowly and winced when the door hinges squeaked. As much as he didn’t want to do it, he turned on the lights in the office since he wasn’t going to have any real luck fumbling around in the dark.

He then began to quickly and carefully go through his boss’ desk. A lot of it was standard stuff, pens, lined paper, tape recorder, stapler, paperclips, statements, statements and more statements. He had a drawer dedicated to the statements relevant to his research that included Cases #0071304 and #9991006 and a folder entirely dedicated to Jane Prentiss. He kept looking and there was a stress ball with some puncture marks on it, part of a beef jerky bag that looked like it had been chewed on, a bunch of torn up paper scraps, a few sets of clean clothes as well as one set that had been worn and a hairbrush that received plenty of use. Buried under his stationary, Martin found the card he had given Jon with the flowers, sealed in a ziplock bag and a blurry photo of Jon, Tim and Sasha. The photo showed Sasha laughing while only part of Tim’s face was visible and Jon looked annoyed. It was probably blurry because Tim had jumped in front of the other two and snapped it before Jon could protest.
Martin got a little choked up looking at it.

No wonder Mr. Sims had been so hostile towards him, he was an outsider. It was supposed to just be the three of them, but he had shown up unexpectedly and ruined it. It made his hands shake a little as he put everything back where he had found it and left the office.

Sitting in the archives alone felt as though he were the butt of a cruel joke, the archival assistant living in the very place he shouldn’t be, and still on his own.

He sighed and went to get his phone. When in doubt the trusty notes app wouldn’t let him down.
He should have a few hours before anyone came into work and the soul crushing loneliness he was feeling was perfect for inspiring poetry.

In the end he couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t make him cringe so he abandoned the poetry in favor of getting an early start to his day. By the time Jonathan Sims arrived he was already on his computer transcribing statements.

“Good morning, Jon.” He tried to smile and not look guilty after searching through the other man’s desk.
Jon for his part only sort of glanced at him as he passed, mumbled “Morning.” and disappeared into his office.

Tim and Sasha came down the stairs together and Martin could hear them before he saw them.
“-and I’m telling you that it’ll help boost morale.” Martin frowned hearing Tim say those words. His idea of ‘boosting morale’ could be a bit different from everyone else’s. He looked up at the creepy gnome on Tim’s desk that he had covered overnight so it wouldn’t freak him out.

“He’s going to be mad, Tim.”

“That’s the point!”

His two coworkers finally entered the bullpen and each greeted him in turn.

“Good morning Martin.”

“Marto!” Tim came right up to his desk and leaned down and lowered his voice. “I’ve got a great plan to make things a bit more lighthearted around here.” he patted the bag he had hanging at his side when he said that.

Martin did his best to raise one eyebrow but he had never been good at the expression. “Morning you two. Tim, what are you planning?”

“Just wait.” Tim winked at him and got set up at his desk before their morning meeting.

Once the meeting was out of the way, Martin noticed Tim and Sasha having one of their silent arguments. The ones where Tim would look at her and jerk his head towards something and she would roll her eyes and then he would smile and nod, then she would shake her head only for him to retort by wiggling his eyebrows and then she would make a disgusted face, and so it would continue until one of them won. It was usually Sasha, but today seemed to be one of the rare times Tim came out victorious, because after a full five minutes of goofy faces and body language, she huffed in defeat and Tim pumped his fist in celebration.

Sasha went to Jon’s office and knocked on the door before he called for her to come in.

Martin watched in fascination as he could hear the muffled sound of a brief exchange before they both left the office and started making their way to document storage, Sasha saying something about the filing system.
As soon as they had rounded the corner Tim was on his feet, giggling quietly as he pulled something out of his bag.

Martin couldn’t help but snort a little when he saw what he had.

It was a Fisher Price toy recorder, complete with rainbow color buttons and a little microphone on a yellow cord.

Tim dashed to the office and returned sans the toy recorder but quickly stuffing Jon’s very real one in his bag instead. He sat down at his desk and got back to working on his computer like nothing had happened.
Martin tried to go back to what he had been doing, but every time he thought about the recorder swap he had to bite his lip so as to not laugh.
It was at least twenty minutes before Jon and Sasha came back from Document storage and she sat back down at her desk, shooting Tim a look that said ‘this had better be worth it.’
He grinned back at her.

Jon walked into his office and closed the door.

The clock on the wall ticked on.

Tick Tick Tick.

The office door opened.

“Tim.”
Jon was standing with the toy recorder in hand and looking incredibly exasperated.

Tim batted his eyelashes. “Yes, Boss?”

“Where is my recorder?”

“You’ve got one right there in your hands.”

Martin had to keep a hand over his face to keep from laughing but was still snorting into his palm and even Sasha was leaning closer to her computer screen to hide the smile on her face.

“Oh, of course Tim.” Jon’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he held the toy up and made a show of pressing the buttons. “Let me just record a statement on this, the latest in recording equipment. The institute truly has spared no expense when it comes to making sure we have what we need down here.”

As he mockingly pressed the colorful plastic buttons, it started playing music, and a low quality version of Old McDonald’s Farm assaulted them.

As the awful and grating version of the classic children’s song filled the archives, the three assistants all broke out in laughter.

Jon stood stoically, holding the toy as it played music and Tim, Sasha and Martin laughed.
He raised the little microphone to his mouth and began to speak over the grating music.
“Statement of Old McDonald, regarding an entity haunting his farm that says ‘E-I-E-I-O’.”

Tim fell out of his chair.

Jon did not lower the microphone. “Statement begins-”

“Jon stop!” Sasha held her hands up, still shaking with laughter. “You’re gonna kill Tim!”

He finally stopped pretending to give his statement to the toy and put his hands on his hips. “Go on then,” he was addressing Tim where he had fallen onto the floor and struggling to sit up. “With you dead, workplace productivity will skyrocket.” Jon set the Fisher Price recorder on the floor by Tim as the song came to a wheezing halt and proceeded to search his assistant desk for his actual recorder.
Tim managed to calm down enough to point out his bag to the Archivist and once the true recorder was recovered, their boss disappeared back into his office. The three of them were left to recover from their laughing fits and get on with their day.

Tim pulled himself up using the edge of his desk as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think that’s the best ebay purchase I’ve ever made.”

“You got that off ebay?” Sasha was jotting something down in her note book, which she often did after one of Tim’s bits.

“Well, yeah. They don’t make them anymore. The cassette was sold separately.”

“One of these days he’s going to fire you.” She pointed at him with one of her pens and Tim scoffed.

“He can’t fire me! Pretty sure the whole Institute would riot if he tried.”

“It’s a wonder you can still stand upright with that big head of yours.”

“It’s cuz my brain is so big, and I know you like a smart man.”

Martin could recognize when Tim and Sasha were about to lose themselves in playful banter, so with a fond head shake and a roll of his stiff shoulders he got up to make some tea for everyone.

He delivered a cup to each of the other assistants, who at this point were arguing about if it was possible for the sky to eat someone if it didn’t have a mouth. Sasha’s stance was that using words like “ate” and “swallowed” were meant to convey the concept but they weren’t to be taken literally and Tim’s was that the correct words would have been “absorbed” or “enveloped”. It was all very pedantic.

When Martin knocked on the door to Jon’s office he waited until called in but far too much time passed so he knocked again. This time he heard a gruff “Come in” from the other side and entered, cup of tea in hand.
Mr. Sims was standing at his desk, rummaging through drawers and shifting folders back and forth as if looking for something.

“I brought you something to drink.” Martin was about to set the cup on his desk then paused when he considered how his boss was currently moving things around on it.

“Thank you, Martin.” He mumbled half heartedly as he continued to search his desk.

“Where would you like me to set it?”

“Hmm? Oh. That shelf will do for now.”
As he placed the cup between some dusty binders and a box of office supplies on the shelf, Jon spoke again.

“Martin, have you been in my office?”

His heartbeat quickened. It hadn’t been said as an accusation but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t.
“I mean, yes? I come in here all the time. I’m here now in fact!” He tried to play it off with a little laugh and an awkward arm swing to indicate he was telling a joke of sorts.

Jon scowled at him. “No, I mean were you in here going through things overnight?”

“No! Of course not!”

The scowl didn’t leave his face but he turned his attention back to his desk.
“It was probably Tim then. Someone definitely messed up the order of this stack of statements.”

“They were in order?”

“By date of event.”

“Well I’ll leave you to your work then.” He was planning on making a hasty exit when his boss addressed him again. “Martin, could you actually run these up to Elias’ office for me? He hasn’t been responding to my emails about it.”

“What is it exactly?” He asked as he took the papers from him.

“It’s about hiring extra security for the Archives while Prentiss is still at large.”

“Oh.”
Martin’s heart fluttered. Jon had mentioned it before but knowing he was serious about it had his stomach doing flips.
It shouldn’t be so touching, it would be monstrous for him to ignore the fact that Martin was in danger, but it still had him red in the face and stuttering.
“Y-yes! Yes. I’ll do that right away!”

Jon didn’t so much as look up from what he was doing, just waved a hand at him dismissively.

Martin hustled back to the bullpen and on his way towards the stairs. Tim and Sasha had changed subjects and were now going back and forth about whether the anatomy of a centaur did or didn’t make sense. It sounded like there was a statement about one that had started the debate. Neither of them seemed to even notice as he passed to leave the archives.

Going from the archives to the rest of the Institute was jarring at best these days, especially since he’d been sleeping down there the past two nights. From a dusty, paper filled basement with harsh fluorescent lights and the four employees that sat down there and squabbled, to the tasteful and studious looking offices of the Institute and the well dressed scholars that haunted its halls. He stopped at Rosie’s desk as she finished a phone call, but instead Rosie just mouthed “go on in” at him while she listened to the person on the other end.

He was trying to mime “are you sure?” to her when he heard Elias’ voice behind him.

“Martin. There you are, I’ve been expecting you. Won’t you come into my office?”

“Right away! Thank you, Mr. Bouchard.”

“The ever respectful Martin Blackwood.” Elias smiled as he stepped back to let him in, but it was soulless in its professionalism.
Once they were both in and Rosie and the rest of the Institute was locked away beyond solid wood Mr. Bouchard spoke again. “I imagine Jon sent you to hound me about his unanswered emails.”

“Not really? He just asked me to bring this to you.” Martin offered the folder, but restrained from saying that that was basically what he was doing.

Elias flipped through the papers briefly before tossing them onto his desk. “It’s exactly as I expected, but since you’re here I’d like to discuss what happened and how you’re handling the situation.”

“You mean right now?” He hadn’t been planning to get caught like this, just deliver the folder and scurry back to the archives.

“Are you terribly busy with more important things?” Those cold grey eyes were boring a hole through him and it made Martin’s skin crawl.

“Well, uh, no. I mean, I have things to work on, I’m not just down there twiddling my thumbs, but it’s not urgent. I mean Mr. Sims would like everything done in a timely manner but I’m sure he’ll understand that you wanted to talk to me and all that.”

“I’m glad we’ve settled that. Please take a seat.”

Martin sat, feeling very much like a child that just got scolded despite the fact that nothing of the sort had happened. Elias Bouchard just had that effect on him.

“Jon has informed me that you’ve moved into the archives due to the fact that your home was contaminated by parasites.”

That was…..not incorrect but it was glossing over the fact that he had been held prisoner by a worm riddled corpse. “Basically, yes.”

“While staying here I expect a few basic things, such as keeping work to work hours. You will not receive overtime if you choose to work past your basic hours when left alone in the archives. You must understand, Martin, I can’t have you abusing this situation
to your gain at the expense of the Institute.”

He nodded.

“Good, furthermore you’ll need to maintain a basic level of cleanliness while staying here. Just because Jon has given you free reign of the place doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to make any messes that could damage Institute property. Need I explain what that entails?”

“No, I think I can grasp the meaning to that.” What he meant was don’t be a slob.

“Jon has come up with a surplus of ideas for securing the archives from Ms. Prentiss should she pursue you, but you need not concern yourself with the details, that’s something Jon and I will be discussing. Lastly I expect you to move out of the archives as soon as you’re no longer at risk. Any questions?”

Martin shook his head, eager to retreat back to the safety of the archives.

“Very good. Then I’ll allow you to return to work. Do stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll do my best.” He managed a weak smile as he left the office. Meeting with Elias always made him jumpy. He always felt sure Mr. Bouchard was going to confront him about his CV and he would lose his job, even though it had been long enough that there
was surely no way he could know.
There was no way he could know.

It was early, but not painfully so.

Martin no longer woke up wondering where he was or shot upright, heart racing as he listened for the sound of someone knocking. After a week in the archives he was starting to calm down, but he still wasn’t sleeping very well.

Well, no sense tossing and turning on his cot when he could start his day. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t catch up on sleep later.
Time for tea and some of that cake Sasha had bought and left in the fridge for him. Cake was not a nutritious breakfast, but after having his life threatened by worms he felt like he had earned some junk food. He wandered into the break room and hovered by the kettle as a thought occurred to him. He was the only one there and he was pretty sure Jon had moved some things in and out of his desk recently, and while he had tried to get the whole ‘my boss might be part cat’ thing out of his mind, he had failed royally. He wasn’t sure what he was going to be looking for, just something to put the issue to rest once and for all one way or another. Although there was the other part of him that very much knew that it was an excuse to try and find more out about his crush, because he wasn’t doing a very good job of ignoring that either.

He meandered to Jon’s office and after a week there he didn’t feel the need to sneak anymore, so he simply opened the door and strode in.

“- I lit my lantern and- Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the archives at least have the decency to put some trousers on!”

Guilt and embarrassment crashed down on him all at once when he saw his boss’ head snap up and his fierce green eyes focus on him.

“Oh god, sorry, sorry! I didn’t think you were in until later; it’s not even seven yet.”

Jon turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk rather abruptly. “I’ve been coming in early in the hopes of leaving this place before dark.”

It’s fine, everything is fine. Martin tried to calm himself.
He had just walked into his boss’ office without any trousers on with the intention of snooping through his things, but it was fine.

“It’s been a week and we’ve seen nothing. Do you really think she’s still out there?” He had to just roll with the conversation and act casual.

“I have no idea, but I don’t intend to take any chances.”

“No, I suppose not…”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Jon raised the tape recorder up to indicate he wanted to get back to the statement he was recording.

“Righto.” Martin gave a casual salute and hurried out of the office, relieved that his boss hadn’t seemed to be too bothered by his intrusion.

Once there was a wall between him and the only other person in the archives he let himself silently panic. He had just barged into the office of Jonathan Sims in his boxers. He had just waltzed into his boss’ office in his boxers. He had just paraded in front of his crush in his boxers. Then he just stood there and made conversation. He had to suppress the urge to run as he went back to the cot and buried his face into a pillow to scream a little.
He needed to be put down, euthanized, executed, taken out back or sent to the family farm. It truly was a hard life as Martin Blackwood.

Chapter Text

Jon spread the papers out on the desk before him. Case #0051701, a statement regarding a calliope, and by extension a circus. When Tim had told him about it he had stressed that he had already looked over everything thoroughly and would update the board himself so all Jon needed to do was record it. Jon had to constantly fight the urge to ask Tim to tell him the significance of circuses and clowns, but since his friend had been rather tense last time he had pressed the issue he was trying to resist.

Martin was currently running to the library for some books on demonology Jon had requested, Tim was taking an early lunch that he suspected had something to do with this recording and Sasha was still out trying to secure some police reports for a different case, so essentially, Jon was alone in the archives. He had already been at work for several hours and was getting stiff all over.

He got up and paced around, stretching out his back and letting his tail lash back and forth furiously. He even pulled off his bandana to let his ears have a break.
As he sat back down to record he rubbed them gingerly, trying to sooth the sensitive nerves after being smothered for so long.

He turned on the recorder and began to read, his sense of self melting away as he began to fill the role of Leanne Denikin, feeling her fear and confusion, living her story.

“I thought it was pronounced Ka-lee-o-pee?”

Jon jumped in his seat as the voice pulled him from his trance. Sasha was looking at him, her face doing a slow shift from playful inquisition to genuine confusion to a look of dawning realization.
“Sasha! You're… back early-” He scrambled for his bandana as he kept talking. “I thought you were trying to get hold of those police reports for the Harold Silvana case?” He more or less just threw the fabric over his head and pulled it down to cover his ears.

Sasha suddenly looked very sad as she came the rest of the way into the room and shut the door behind her.
“You don’t have to hide it ya know?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“The ears? The- the tail…..”

Jon was frozen, their eyes were locked and she was coming closer but he couldn’t move.

“I figured it out a while ago, and by a while ago I mean before we started working in the archives together.”

He still couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything but sit there while she continued.

“Working in artifact storage means I’ve seen a lot of weird things so it wasn’t that unbelievable, just something of a surprise. At first I thought you were embarrassed and that’s why you didn’t want anyone to find out but now I’m sure it’s because you’re scared.”

He finally let go of the bandana he had been pulling down around his head, letting the fabric fall to the floor and his ears twitch and rotate as they naturally would.
She gave him a soft and genuine smile.
“My Grandmother was always so worried about what would happen if people found out.” He slumped in his chair a little. “What gave it away?”

“I mean…..” she pulled over the other chair to sit down. “All of it? The weird habits, the few times I’ve caught a glimpse of your tail, the cat noises. Jon, we’ve known each other for years now, anyone’s bound to put it together at some point. Well-” She stopped and raised a hand to her chin as she considered her own statement. “Actually I don’t think Tim’s onto you, at least not that’s he’s mentioned to me and he tells me most things. The point is that you can only hide your true self from your friends for so long.”

“That’s what Georgie said too.”

“Georgie?”

“My…. a friend from Uni who figured it out. The only person other than my Grandmother that knows the whole story, although I suppose that small circle is about to include you as well.”
He sat a little straighter. “Right, I might as well get it over with. I was born a cat.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting that angle. “That does make your account of what happened with the fire in your mother’s flat make more sense.”
She started to squint at him as if trying to examine him or as if he were a puzzle to solve. “And why it’s been so hard for you to find her.”

“Yes, it’s not like there will be legal records showing our relation, unless she got me from a shelter and I know she didn’t. There also certainly aren't any genetic ties.”

“Where you a stray?”

He nodded.

“You seem like you would be a stray.”

“I beg your pardon? What does that mean?”

“You’ve just got that ‘fished out of a dumpster’ energy to you.”

“Well, I don’t- I, that’s…..” He wrinkled up his face in annoyance but couldn’t come up with an argument.

“It’s not a bad thing.” She smiled at him. “Most good cats come from dumpsters.”

“Well, thank you. I suppose…..” He noticed the way her eyes were locked onto his ears.

“Do you want to touch them?”

“Please! Yes.” She had the decency to look a little embarrassed after being so eager but it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it.

“I’m not going to bow my head and offer them to you if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Fair enough.” She came closer so that she could gingerly touch his ears and give them some gentle scritches.

It had been years since another person had touched his ears and he immediately lost his composure, leaning into her touch and purring.
All too soon the comforting sensation vanished as she pulled her hand back and he could see her biting her lip as if to stop herself from smiling or laughing.

“I’m sorry, Jon. You looked like you were really enjoying that but it’s a little awkward for me to pet my boss.”

“You’re absolutely right.” He gathered himself but couldn’t hide his own embarrassment over the situation.

Finally Sasha laughed. “God, Jon. This is so stupid. Martin is being hunted by worms, you’re a cat and Tim and I are stuck in this horrible ‘will they won’t they’ thing.”

“Will you?” The question just sort of slipped from him but she just shook her head.

“I don’t know! I don’t even know if I want this job, but I don’t want to leave either. I feel stuck. A job that isn’t going anywhere, a situationship that isn’t going anywhere….. Just.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “How did this turn into a conversation about me?”

Jon could only shrug.

She put her glasses back on and cracked her neck. “Well. I did get those police reports, in case you were wondering.”

“Right. Very good.” He pushed a pen around his desk. “So you’re not bothered. By the cat thing that is?”

“No, why would I be?”

“Figured you might call me a freak or a monster or something.”

“I mean,” she bounced her head from side to side in a ‘sort of kinda’ motion. “You are a freak, but for different reasons.”

He flicked the pen and it went flying across the room. “You say it so matter of fact.”

Sasha just walked over, picked up the pen and tossed it at him and he swatted it out of the air. It landed on a shelf and bounced behind the clutter.

“So, do we know if it’s pronounced ‘Ka-lee-o-pee’ or ‘Kuh-ly-o-pee’?”

“I have also heard it said as ‘Ka-lee-ope’.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? By who?”

“Americans.”

“Ah.”

“As far as I can tell there isn't a ‘correct’ pronunciation. But they were originally named after the Greek muse Calliope, so…”

“Are people going to understand that it’s from Greek mythology?“

“People….” Jon suddenly realized the tape recorder was still running and that it had captured their entire conversation. He grabbed it and turned it off and when he looked up they made eye contact and Sasha understood. No one could hear this tape.

“I’ve got a false bottom in one of the drawers of my desk.” She said, and he nodded and handed it to her.

“I had better start this recording over.”

“Probably.” She slapped the tape against her palm a couple of times before she stopped shuffling her feet and actually moved to leave the office.

“Sasha, one more thing.” She paused in the doorway.

“Thank you.” He tried to sound sincere, and from the way she smiled at him it seemed like it worked.

~

Another worm.

Jon hissed and stomped on it. They had been seeing more and more of them outside of the Institute and it wasn’t a good sign. Tim had let slip to Martin yesterday that he had been seeing them and the poor man had almost cried.
Jon felt bad for Martin, he really did, but he couldn’t help but also lay some blame on him. If these silver worms were coming to the Institute it could only be his fault.

Yes, Jon had been the one to offer that he stay but that's besides the point.

As if thinking about him summoned the man, Martin appeared at the bottom of the stairs as Jon was going down to the archives and he looked distressed.
“It’s not my fault.”

“What’s not your fault?” Jon stopped on the stairs and tried once again to do the ‘Mad Boss Act’.
Martin seemed to shrink as he stammered about Tim and the first of the month when it dawned on Jon that it was April 1st.

“Oh dear god.” he raced down the stairs and past Martin into the archives.

Worms.

So, so many worms.

They were on the walls, the floor, strung over shelves and draped on chairs. Hundreds of brightly colored, fuzzy worms swarmed the archives.

“Tim!!!” he cried as he froze in the bullpen, overwhelmed by all of the slightly swaying, colorful worms.

The man responsible for the neon explosion appeared, dressed in a button up that had a matching fuzzy worm pattern and had several of the monstrosities hanging from his sunglasses. “Ya called?” He took a sip of his chocolate milk.

Jon wanted to yell at him but all of the dangling toys were setting off his hunter’s instinct and it was all he could do to not pounce at the nearest one.
Jon very slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting on his tail to stop it from lashing back and forth and covering his eyes to take a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Even with his eyes closed he could tell Martin was looming over him.

“Why?”

Tim was laughing. Of course Tim was laughing at the misery he had caused.

Jon could hear Sasha coming down the stairs just to halt at the threshold and groan. “Tim. You said you weren’t going to do anything crazy this year.”

“This isn’t crazy! It’s just Squirmles!”

“Squirmles?” He could hear her glare in her voice.

“Yeah! Otherwise known as Worm on a String!”

“You’ve broken Jon.”

“This is in such poor taste.” Jon managed to say without uncovering his eyes.

“I thought it would cheer everyone up!” Tim cried defensively. “Besides, Martin thinks it’s funny!”

“It was funny when I thought you only had one bag.” Martin sounded less than impressed. “I told you this would make him freak out.”
Jon was sure Martin was referring to him as he sat on the floor and tried to prepare himself to see all of the tantalizing toys again.

“I expected these to be cleaned up by noon.” It was all he could bring himself to say as he quickly stood and hurried to his office.

Slamming the door behind him he realized that not even his office was safe and he couldn’t stop himself from swatting at the neon worms hanging from the shelves.
It took him way too long to de-Squirmles his office because he kept getting memorized by the way they swayed on their string and couldn’t help batting them around the room while removing them.

By noon he hadn’t made half as much headway as he should have and there was a knock on his office door. Sasha’s voice could be heard from the other side.
“Jon, it’s just me. May I come in?”

“Uh.” He quickly detangled himself from the strand of worms he had been playing with. “Yes.”

Upon entering she looked very serious, but after taking in the scene and figuring things out she couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over her face.
“Are you having fun?”

“No.” He threw the fuzzy offenders on the ground and watched her eyes light up with delight when she saw his tail flick back and forth.

“These things are horrifically distracting.”

“I can imagine, seeing as they’re basically cat toys.”

“I’m not really a cat anymore.” He swatted one off of his desk and his head snapped to follow it as it hit the far wall.

“Mmmhhmm.” Sasha was covering her mouth with one hand and nodding but definitely not agreeing.

“Have the rest of them been taken down?”

“Most of them, although Tim’s been pinning them to his shirt so you’ll want to avoid looking at him.”

“Duly noted.”

Taking a moment to actually take in his assistant’s appearance, he couldn’t help but notice the bags under her eyes and the hairs that frizzed out of her normally neat ponytail.
“You look tired.”

She sighed. “Yeah. There’s something I want to tell you about. I met a- a thing yesterday.”

“What sort of thing?”

“It called itself Michael.”

“But you don’t think that’s actually their name?”

“I don’t think it has a name, Michael is just what it’s letting me call it. Look, it's all very confusing but it said it could help save our lives.”

“From what?” He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear her say it.

“The Flesh Hive. Jane Prentiss.”

“Do you want to make a statement?” He was already reaching for the drawer with his tape recorder but she was shaking her head ever so slightly.

“I don’t think it warrants a full statement, but….” She paused as if considering if it was worth telling him before continuing. “I want you to come with me to meet it tonight.”

“Before I agree to that you had better tell me everything.”

So Sasha told him about her meeting with the thing that calls itself Michael and about how it said it knew how to save their lives.
When she was finished Jon leaned back in his chair and bounced his leg anxiously.

“What do you think, Jon?”

He shook his head. “This thing could be dangerous. You shouldn’t go see it.”

“But you’re still coming with me right?”

“Died in the line of duty.”

He sighed. “Yes, I’m still coming with you to Hanwell Cemetery.”

Chapter Text

The sun was setting by the time Jon and Sasha reached the gates of the graveyard and it painted everything in shades of orange.
It had stopped raining, but there were still large puddles of water that reflected the sky and made the ground look like it had holes in it, and that if you stepped in one you’d fall up into the great expanse above.

As they approached, Sasha didn’t need to point Michael out to him, his hair stood on end and skin began to crawl before he even saw the thing.
It- he?- Was standing by the gates, looking to all the world like a man in his late twenties or early thirties, with long blonde hair and unnaturally blue eyes, but in his reflection in the rain water they could see the way his body was made of sharp angles and his hands were long like knives.

“Jon-”

“I see him.”

Michael, or the thing that called itself Michael briefly looked surprised that there were two people instead of just Sasha, but that quickly changed to one of amusement.

“Sasha.” He said rather pleasantly.

“Archivist.” It said with a layer of distortion in its voice that made Jon’s head hurt.

“I don’t like that.” Jon whispered to Sasha.

Michael either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, it just turned and began walking down the street instead of entering the cemetery.
Jon and Sasha only glanced at each other briefly before following it.

It led them past some fairly nice houses until they reached what appeared to be an abandoned pub with its front door slightly ajar.
Michael went in without a word and once again they followed.

It was dusty and dark inside, but as soon as they crossed the threshold Jon gripped Sasha’s arm and didn’t even try to suppress the growl that rose up from him. She froze and immediately turned her attention to Michael, but it wasn’t the blonde creature that Jon was worried about. The old pub reeked of rot. The same squirming, flesh melting decay that Martin had stunk of when he had returned from his encounter with Prentiss, the same stink that wafted off of the silver worms that they had seen outside of the Institute.

“Sasha we need to go-” He tried to pull her out of the pub with him, but his back just hit the wall when he tried. Where did the door go? It had been right there!

There was the horrible sound of shifting flesh and wriggling and a figure heaved itself up from the floor and into view. It looked to be male, unlike Prentiss, but it still had masses of tangled worms falling from every orifice and burrowing in and out of its skin. Sasha gasped and the noise made it start to shuffle towards them, wriggling silver bodies flowing out of it and crawling towards them with surprising speed.
Jon all but dragged Sasha with him as they circled around so that the pub's old counter was between them and this new flesh hive and their backs weren’t literally against a wall.

“Look for an exit, or window!” He glanced at Michael who hadn’t moved from where it stood and had the audacity to look amused.

“Jon! Be careful!” Sasha stamped down on the floor right in front of him and he realized that the worms had still managed to surround them. They stomped on and dodged the parasites, but more and more were coming and the shambling corpse they were coming from was getting closer.

Sasha was backed against the counter and without even really looking she grabbed a small fire extinguisher that was sitting on it and began to spray everything in sight.
Jon yowled as he got a faceful of CO2 and fell against one of the tables. It took a few seconds for him to recover but even then, as he was looking up, Sasha was spraying the flesh hive and it and its worms were spasming as they died. When it finally lay still, he noticed a growing patch of red on the sleeve of her blouse and he felt sick with the realization of what it was. He tried struggling to his feet but he was so lightheaded from the CO2 that he fumbled against the table for a moment too long, and in a blink Michael was next to Sasha, digging its long and sharp fingers into her arm and she was screaming.
All at once his anger overcame his lack of balance and he was lunging.

“Don’t touch her!”

However, it wasn’t hard for the thing that called itself Michael to avoid him and he just tumbled to the ground again.

It laughed a horrible reality warping laugh and when he had righted himself enough he could see it holding a silver worm between its deadly fingers.

“What a touching display, Archivist, but there’s no need to fret. I’m here to help you.”

Sasha was next to him now, helping him up. He could see now that the cut on her arm wasn’t deep and it seemed like Michael had removed the worm cleanly.

“Is this what you wanted us to see.” He gestured to the fire extinguisher and the dead worms. “That this kills them?”

“I only asked Sasha to come, not you Archivist. But….”
Micheal was looking at the top of Jon’s head where his ears were now exposed. His scarf had come off in the commotion, but it wasn’t as if anyone in the old pub was inclined to care given the circumstances.
“I may have misjudged you.”

“What does that mean?” While he had been getting his footing and Sasha was searching around the pub and the flesh hives’ now still corpse, Michael laughed again.

“You are clearly not what you were before, nor are you what you try to be. You are a distorted version of yourself, or what you were meant to be, and that…” its smile faltered for just a moment “....Is something I can understand.”

Jon shuddered as the meaning of that statement danced just beyond his grasp, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it when Sasha held something up to show him.

“Jon, this is Timothy Hodge. One of Prentiss’ victims.” She was holding a wallet and ID.

His head spun with the information, as well as Michael’s dizzying laughing echoing in the empty pub.

“Michael, why are you-?” He turned back to the blonde thing but it was gone. Looking past Sasha revealed that Hodge’s body had also vanished.

“Maybe we should go.” She said when she also realized they were alone.

“Yeah…” He gripped her arm as they helped each other leave. “Let’s go.”

~

The archives were quiet, that’s what Martin liked about staying there, but the stairs were old and the wood creaked when someone came down them. So when two people were stumbling down at the same time it was pretty noisy. He rolled over on his cot and reached under it for his phone.

It was past 1 AM, who was banging around in the archives at this hour?

Wait, what if it was-? He jumped to his feet and fumbled for the knife he had been keeping under his pillow when he heard familiar voices.

“Jon, you need to cover those back up.”

“Dear god, you’re right. I have extra clothes in my office, hold on. Wait your shoulder-?”

“I’ve got it handled. Quickly, before Martin wakes up.”

There was no doubt that those were Jon and Sasha’s voices, but what were they doing bumbling around the archives in the middle of the night? And what was Jon covering up?
A very specific sort of dread curled in his gut as he made his way to the bullpen.
There he saw Sasha sitting on the edge of her desk looking shaken and tired.

“Sasha? What’s going on?” She jumped a little at the sound of his voice but immediately calmed down when she saw him. “Martin! I’m sorry we woke you, it’s just that we didn’t know where else to go.”

“I thought I heard Jon, what happened?” He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the closed office door.

“Jon and I had an encounter.”

Martin clenched his jaw as a wave of jealousy crashed over him.

“Oh?” It was the only thing he could manage to choke out.

Sasha nodded solemnly. “Yes, with one of Prentiss’ victims. Another Flesh Hive.”

“Oh.”

A Paranormal encounter.

Well now he just felt like a dick. “What happened?? Are you two alright??”

“We’re fine Martin.” Jon emerged from his office wearing different clothes than he had on when he had left work. “Just tired and….. It was a lot. But we need to have a meeting, there’s some things we need to discuss. Do you think we could get Tim to come in at this hour?”

Sasha had already pulled out her phone. “He will if I tell him to.”

Chapter Text

There was a fire extinguisher in just about every corner of the archives and even more tucked away in boxes or sitting on any surface where one would fit.
If one were to stand in the bullpen and look to their left they’d easily count four of them, and if they looked to their right they’d see five more.

Sasha, Martin and Tim had stolen them from all over the rest of the Institute because while Elias had been reluctant to get them the extras Jon had requested, he didn’t have any choice but to replace the ones that went missing elsewhere. One might wonder what would happen if he were to find out that they were all down in the archives? Well, they were already there and the others had been replaced so what was the issue really?
At least that was the argument that the Archival team had come up with.

Jon had gone out and bought a few himself, as had the others, but none of them intended to supply themselves on their own budgets when this was definitely the Institute’s problem to pay for.

The worms were becoming more prevalent, but so far no one outside of the archives had complained about them and with all of the extinguishers they were managing to keep things under control for the time being.

Sasha and Jon had relayed everything that had happened with Michael, minus Jon’s brief exchange regarding his feline heritage, and they had all discussed in depth what to do.
The first option was, of course, to quit. They had all agreed but that was the best course of action. The only problem was that Jon still needed to find his mother, Tim wanted to know what happened to his brother, Martin was worried that even quitting wouldn’t free him of the flesh hive and Sasha wasn’t about to abandon all of them.

So quitting was taken off the list of options.

Bringing the fight to Jane was immediately shot down as it was only added to the list for the sake of covering everything.
The final option that they settled on was to do as much research and preparation as they could so that when trouble arrived, and they were sure it would, they would be ready.

When Melanie King arrived to make her statement she of course asked about all of the extinguishers.

“What’s all this about?” She gestured to the nearest one that was sitting on Tim’s desk.

“What? Don’t think it’s trendy? I like the color they add to this dusty old place.”

She scoffed. “I should have known coming here was a waste of time.”

“You can still leave, but don’t tell anyone I said that, I’m supposed to be empathetic and encouraging.” Tim flashed his pearly whites at her but she just snorted.

“Whatever, just let me make a statement so I can leave.”

“As you wish, Miss King. The boss is right in there and he’s the one you’ll want to tell your tale to.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t sound grateful.

Jon for his part, had been listening to Tim greet the woman and point her in his direction.
He could already tell this was going to be a fun one. He really and truly had more important things to do, like tearing the archives apart trying to find the statement of Jane Prentiss, or patrolling for worms or trying and failing to learn anything about this Michael character.

When Melanie King was finally seated across from him and he turned on his recorder she had the same reaction that Miss Herne had.

“You want me to tell my story to that thing? You’re Joking.”

He suppressed a sigh. “I can assure you this will record just fine.”

“I knew you guys were a bit… slapdash, but this is absurd.”

“No doubt you’re used to a higher calibre of equipment when pretending to see ghosts in old churchyards and mental institutions.“ It was bad enough that she was wasting his time, it was even worse that she was complaining about being there, something she had sought out.

She laughed in a mocking manner and he once again had to resist the urge to tell her off.
“People like a show. People like our show. And, even if we do ham it up a bit, even if we do add a bit of sparkle, we’re still more respected and evidence-based paranormal investigators than you and your lot.“

“We are not ‘paranormal investigators’. We are researchers. Scholars” How long was he going to argue with her over the semantics of these things? She was inhaling and he could tell she was going to find another thing to nitpick or protest so he cut her off in the hope that he could either convince her to say her piece or leave.

“Look, Miss King, I’m sure we could sit here and debate the validity of our respective professions until the sun sets, but that’s not what either of us are here for, so.” He showcased the recorder with one hand. “You can make a statement or not but can we please not argue about this any longer.”

“Okay, fine.” She made a fussy, mocking face at him. “Fine.”

Despite her obvious attitude, she still made her statement and he listened.

When Melanie was done he couldn’t even pretend to care about the ghost nonsense she had just said because he was hung up on something else.

“Wait, you said you know Georgie Barker?”

“Yes, do you?”

“Yes! We went to Uni together, but we haven’t kept in touch the past few years.”

“Huh.” Melanie seemed to consider him anew knowing that he was acquainted with Georgie.

“Well, anyhow. Do you believe me?”

“Um….” He thought about the story. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, he just didn’t really care. Except the name Sarah Baldwin sounded familiar.

“I believe you’re sure of what you saw, but my professional skepticism requires that I not say more until we’ve been able to research your statement.”

“Well you don’t have to be an ass about it!” Melanie pushed her chair back to leave.

“I’m not-”

“Professional skepticism my ass.” She stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

Jon rubbed his temples as soon as she was gone. He hadn’t even said anything rude!
He would have thought Georgie would have better taste in friends, but now that he was thinking about it she had dated him so maybe not.

After sitting in his office and seething for a while he finally left to find Tim and assign the follow up work for Miss King’s statement. He found Martin first, making four cups of tea and muttering under his breath.
Usually when someone was whispering to themselves they were complaining or thinking out loud, but staining to listen Jon though he could hear…. Poetry? Martin was reciting very mediocre poetry to himself as he made tea. Jon thought about commenting but he honestly wasn’t sure what to say, so he just stood behind him and eavesdropped on his recital.

Martin fumbled while pouring the last cup and sighed.
“No…. that’s not good…. I can’t rhyme paper and stapler….”

Wait.

Jon narrowed his eyes. This was Martin’s mediocre poetry. Now that he knew that his assistant was coming up with it, listening in was very awkward. He took a step back to try and creep away when the other man turned around and saw him there. He startled a little and spilled some of the tea he was carrying.

“Mr. Sims! OW!” Martin quickly set the cups back down to tend to his newly scalded hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you. Is your hand alright?”

The large man was running it under cold water and nodding. “‘S fine! I’m fine! How long were you standing there?”

“Uh, I just got here.” Maybe his hand wasn’t fine because Martin’s face was turning pretty red.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He moved closer to the other man as he was only getting redder.

Before Jon could properly inspect the other’s hand, Sasha’s voice rang through the air.

“Tim! This has gone too far!”

Jon split from Martin to investigate and found Sasha and Tim standing by the latter's desk who was laughing while his counterpart had one hand on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose. The next thing he saw was what was the source of their current conflict. There, on the desk was the horrid gnome. It was sitting in a small rocking chair that was probably made for dolls, it was wearing a necklace made of Squirmles, sunglasses and had its own fire extinguisher. Tim was leaning over the surface and looked to be writing something, a second later he straightened up and peeled off a name sticker that he stuck to the gnome. Apparently its name was Elias Jr.

“Oh god, it’s getting worse.” Martin was peering over his shoulder to take in the scene as well.
Jon looked up at him, a little surprised by how close he was. So close in fact that his nose almost touched Martin’s chin when he turned his head.
Martin seemed to realize this at the same time and turned red again before stepping back and away from his boss.
Every time Jon thought he was getting a mental grasp of the man he started acting in new and strange ways.

Tim had heard Martin’s comment and turned to grin at the newcomers.

“Well,” he held his hands out to display the ridiculous shrine he had set up with the thing. “What do you think of Elias Jr.’s look?”

“I hate it.” Jon wrinkled his nose.

“If Mr. Bouchard sees that you’re going to get in trouble.” Martin was still standing behind Jon and the frown on his face was audible in his voice.

“What’s he gonna do? Fire me? If that happens I won’t have to worry about getting eaten by worms after all. And maybe, just maaayyyybe it’ll inspire him to get off his useless ass and hire an exterminator or just, you know, do something for a change.”

“I’ve been hounding him about swapping out the fire suppressant system for a CO2 based one for a while now and he keeps saying he’s trying to get things lined up with the contractors for the work but who knows if it’s true.” Jon was tired of having Martin
lurking behind him where he couldn’t see the other man so he walked closer to the other two.

Elias Jr. looked at him with its bulging eyes that didn’t point the same way.

“Tim, that thing really is deeply unsettling.”

“He’s just a little guy!”

“It’s unsettling.”

“Junior aside,” Tim finally turned his attention away from the eyesore to focus on Jon and Martin. “I was about to find you two and suggest we have another dinner party in the archives tonight. There’s a lot of spooky stuff going on and we deserve to hang out
and relax.”

“Sure, fine, whatever!” Jon threw up his hands. “But during work hours I still expect you to do your job and follow up on Miss King’s statement.”

“Sure, sure, will do.” Tim was bobbing his head yes even as he pulled out his phone to most likely look up restaurants.

“Speaking of her,” Sasha interjected. “Thoughts on her statement? Real? Fake? Relevant?”

“Real, probably not relevant though.” Jon considered for a moment longer. “Although all of the seemingly real statements seem to have connections to each other. Recurring names, themes or, or things. With that in mind I’m hesitant to say there is anything that isn’t relevant.”

Sasha nodded thoughtfully but didn’t get a real chance to ponder anything because Tim was shoving his phone in her face. “How about burgers? Burgers sound good. All in favor of burgers?” Tim was already raising his hand.
Sasha put hers up and Jon couldn’t see him but a part of him was sure Martin was as well. With a sigh he raised his own.

It was after hours and Tim and Martin were going to get the food, leaving Jon and Sasha in the archives.
He had pulled out his Statement binder and was flipping through it. They had the board but it was really just the bullet points of the things they were keeping an eye out for, whereas his binder had very comprehensive notes and a timeline of events as he discovered them.
He had finally figured out why the name Sarah Baldwin was familiar, she was one of the people reported missing by Old Fishmarket Close, and given her role in the statement of Melanie King there was no way that was a coincidence.

His binder also included pages dedicated to Gerard Keay and Gertrude Robinson as they had shown up in several statements, and Geurturde’s death was turning into a mystery of its own.
He was comparing case notes and dates when Sasha playfully smacked the top of his head.

“I don’t think cats were meant to draw up paranormal timelines.”

“Nor are they meant to go to Uni or have jobs, and yet here I am.”

She sat in the chair opposite him and rested her elbows on the table. “Have you given any more thought to what I said?”

“About painting my nails? I mean I have, but I haven’t gotten around to buying any polish-”

“No, I mean about Tim and Martin.” She laughed a little but he couldn’t help but hunch his shoulders defensively when he realized what she was referring to.

“Oh. I have.”

“And?”

“And….. I just can’t.”

Sasha’s head tilted to the side a little as her brows knit together. “Why not?”

“With Tim it’s just a matter of spitting it out. I want him to know about the whole cat thing, I just can’t bring myself to say it. As for Martin……”

Martin Blackwood, the bane of his existence. Interloper, incompetent, worm magnet, enigma, oaf, inconvenience…… there were a lot of things he could say about Martin and he was sure Sasha would disapprove of them all.

“You really hate him, don’t you?” She asked, sounding almost surprised like she had just realized the fact.

“I don’t hate him.” Hate was such a strong word.

“You do! You really do!” She all but shouted the accusation, eyes wide with shock at the thought.

“I don’t! Why would I offer for him to live in the archives if I hated him??”

“Because you’re not a monster, you just hate the guy!”

Jon couldn’t help but feel incredibly indignant at her insistence. He didn’t hate Martin.
Sure, Martin annoyed him and made him feel on edge and like he wasn’t in control of the situation, but he also made them all tea, and had a gentle voice and always got rid of the spiders in his office.
Martin frustrated him and confused him but he didn’t hate the man.

“I don’t! I- I don’t know how I feel about Martin! It’s confusing!” He gestured vaguely with his hands as he spoke for emphasis.

“Confusing how?” Sasha was narrowing her eyes at him and he felt like he was being examined all of a sudden.

“Like-like I- uh, like one moment he’s making tea and it’s really nice and the next he’s walking into my office without knocking and I’m furious about it. Or- or when I was really excited that he wasn’t at work for a week but I was also enraged when I found out what had happened. Or when he gave me that book for Christmas and I was really happy but then I didn’t want to be left alone with just him to talk to. I don’t know!” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair to glare at her as if to say ‘happy now?’.

Sasha hummed thoughtfully. “That does put your behavior in a new light.” She locked eyes with him. “Have you considered you might be scared?”

He scoffed. “Scared? Of Martin? Preposterous.”

“Scared of letting someone new get close?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Says the cat turned man.” She reached over and closed his binder before pulling it towards herself. “Regardless, that’s enough of this. We’re supposed to have fun tonight, you can obsess over ghosts tomorrow. And please give it more thought. They're both good people. You can trust them.”

Jon was inclined to sit there and pout but she patted his hand and reached for something under her desk. “I’ve got some cards, let’s play a few rounds before those two get back.”

Tim was always the one to get the food since he was the only one in the archives that had a car.
Tim had a car so he could take vacations to the countryside or whatever place struck his fancy. Timothy Stoker liked to go. He liked to go out, he liked to go to the movies, he liked to go hiking, he liked to go kayaking, he liked to go on dates, he liked to go traveling, he liked to go home.

Tim just liked to go places and do things.

Martin didn’t. Martin liked to stay put. He liked to stay in and read, play board games, (not that he had anyone to play with), watch the telly, and write. In fact, he had hardly left the archives since moving in, something Tim had pointed out was more than a bit concerning when it had come up in conversation the other day. So now he made it a point to drag Martin out whenever he was going out for lunch or just needed to pick something up from the store or even when Martin was putting off going to the laundromat.

“If I can be serious with you for a moment Martin.” Oh that didn’t sound good.
Glancing over to Tim who was driving, Martin could see the very solemn expression on his face.

“Um…”

“I don’t want Elias Jr. to creep you out while you're staying there. He’s supposed to be funny.”

He was just talking about his stupid gnome. That was a relief.

“It’s not that bad Tim. He’s less creepy with the sunglasses and the fuzzy things, what are they called?”

“Squirmles.”

“Squirmles, right. They kinda make him cute? Besides, Jon’s just being dramatic.”

Tim was giving him something of a side eye. “I didn’t say anything about Jon.”

“Well, it’s just that he gripes about it the most.”

“Jon gripes about everything, it’s one of his hobbies.”

Martin was starting to heat up a bit but was still trying to play it cool. “Well, Junior doesn’t bother me so you needn’t worry about it.”

Tim was pulling into the parking lot of the institute and he made a dismissive sort of snorting sound. “Is it Jon?”

“Sorry, what?”

Tim was unbuckling to get out of the car and rummaging around in the back seat for the food. “Do you have a crush on Jon?”

“I- that’s- It’s just-” Martin stuttered and fumbled for words and Tim pulled back with several bags, one eyebrow raised.

“I take it that’s a yes.” Tim had asked Martin if he had a crush on someone a while ago and now it seemed he was going in for the kill.

“No!”

“Sure.” Tim was getting out while Martin hurried to follow.

“Please don’t say anything to Jon or Sasha!”

“I won’t!” Tim lied.

Martin did his best not to trip on his way back to the archives as he trailed after Tim. He felt a little dizzy after their conversation in the car, and more than a little terrified that Tim would tell someone about his unfortunate crush.

 Especially Jon. It wasn’t like he could help it. Jon was just so…. So….. Jonathan Sims. One moment he was painfully serious as he explained the difference between modern art and contemporary art, and the next he was running through the archives trying to kill a fly. His voice was captivating, his smile elusive but stunning, his weird little habits were so endearing and it never failed to make Martin smile when he found his boss sprawled on the floor asleep after a long day. Just thinking about the man made him sigh dreamily.

 He immediately regretted it because Tim had his back to the door to the archives, arms laden with bags of food, ready to enter, and was grinning at him wickedly. Martin opened his mouth to tell him to stop grinning like that but it was too late, Tim pushed against the crash bar and was turning around to waltz to the others before he could deny his feelings.

He quickly followed to try and do damage control on whatever Tim was planning.

“Marto! Help me dish this out, here.'' The moment he was through the doors, Tim was pushing a bag into his hands. It only took a glance to realize it was Jon’s order.

Tim was a cruel man. A cruel and conniving man.

Jon and Sasha were sitting at a card table set up in the bullpen, and doing none other than playing cards. Tim was already walking over with his own order and Sasha’s, while Martin was left to bring Jon’s his.

Play it cool, Blackwood. Play it cool.

“Here you go, Mr. Sims.”

“Thank you, Martin.” He mumbled, too engrossed in his losing hand of cards to acknowledge him properly.

When Martin pulled up a chair himself he could see that Tim and Sasha were having another one of their silent conversations. There was a lot of eyebrow wiggling and eye pointing, and he couldn’t help but feel that they were ‘talking’ about him and Jon.
Jon was still pondering his crappy hand, clearly trying to figure out how to salvage the situation.

“What are you two playing?” Tim was leaning back and forth to see both of their hands and he obviously knew what they were playing.

“Poker.” Jon replied on reflex and Sasha winced.

“Poker? I hardly know her!”

Sasha groaned and Jon threw his cards down. “Timothy! You’re fired! I’m firing you!”
Tim laughed and Jon had to stand up and pace around to calm down.

“Tim…..” Sasha sounded so tired. “You know how much he hates those jokes.”

“Yeah, that's why I tell them.”

Martin picked at his chips as the scene unfolded before him, more than a little relieved that Tim had decided to torment Jon instead of telling everyone his secret.

“Jon, you should be thanking me for derailing this game, your cards are shit.” Tim had gathered up the cards his boss had thrown down as the other man circled the table, grumbling under his breath all the while.

“Why don’t we all just play something else?” Sasha suggested.

“Yes, let’s.” Martin was eager to keep everyone occupied in case a certain someone remembered the personal information he held over him. Sasha dealt for Kings in the Corner and they played a few rounds, although after three Tim tried to figure out how to cheat. Jon and Sasha scolded him every time.

Martin tried to relax and just live in the moment, he tried to not think about killer worms, or his cranky mother, or the fact that he had a crush on his maybe cat boss.

He was Martin Blackwood and he had a totally fine and normal life, and he was very bad at lying to himself.

Eventually, the food was eaten and Jon had gotten fed up with Tim’s poor attempts at convincing them that he could in fact play the four of hearts on the five of diamonds and they called it a night.

As the other’s put on their coats and said their goodbyes, Tim hung back and leaned close to Martin to whisper, “You can do better than Jon.”

He whispered back. “No, I don’t think I can.”

His coworker grunted but didn’t ask for any clarification so they left it at that.

Chapter Text

Martin was not snooping. He wasn’t spying or invading anyone’s privacy, he was investigating.

It was only a little after three AM so surely no one was going to come barging into the archives at this hour. He had refrained from going into Jon’s office overnight for some time now, but several things had happened since then. They had found Jane Prentiss’ statement, and it hadn’t helped except to freak them all out, Jon had had another person come in to give a statement and there had been several other statements he had documented in his binder.

The research board in the bullpen had been converted into the Worm Board, dedicated to marking where they had seen the most worms or where new ones were showing up, diagrams on how to use the fire extinguishers and notes that the archival team left for each other. The board naturally also had been decorated with Tim’s Worms on String. This meant that all of Jon’s personal notes had been condensed to a big three ring binder he was constantly working in.
They had all seen it, even looked through it, but Martin worried that Jon was getting in too deep with all of the statements and the connections he was seeing in them, so he was just doing a bit of investigating for his health. Just to make sure his boss was doing okay. That was the only reason.

Jon’s desk had most of the same things that it did last time he had looked through it, as well as the addition of some of the fuzzy worms tangled together in a ball, the book he had given him for Christmas and two more tape recorders. Where did these other tape recorders come from? Martin thought there were only three in the archives. Jon’s the one in the bullpen and the one he had been using.
Martin paused to think. Hadn’t there only been one when he had started in the archives?

He would have spent more time pondering the multiplying recorders except it was at that point he heard someone coming down the stairs to the archives.
He felt a stabbing sense of panic. Who was coming in at three in the morning??? Could it be Jon? Shit. Jon was going to catch him going through his desk and then the man would hate him. They were just starting to get somewhere akin to being friends and he was going to ruin it by being caught snooping.

He turned off the light in the office and pasted his back to the wall next to the door. If he was lucky whoever it was wouldn’t go right for the office and he could slip out without being seen. If they asked about things being moved around he actually had a cover story for that. He had stashed some extra extinguishers around the archives in secret places, he could just show them to whoever it was and that would surely get him out of this mess. Hiding them was rather silly, but he didn’t want the worms to know where they all were, and besides that he had this fantasy of using them to save Jon.

Jonathan Sims, sitting at his desk peacefully working, when suddenly the walls were broken down by worms. He was trapped as they swarmed towards him, and just when hope seemed lost, Martin would swoop in, pulling an extinguisher from his secret stash and spraying them down, saving the day and his crush.

Martin shook his head to break out of the daydream as he listened for whoever it was in the archives. He could hear movement, but not right outside of the door so he chanced cracking it open to take a look. The break room light was on, illuminating the edges of the bullpen and silhouetting the various boxes of documents and desks.

Martin creeped out of the office, wincing when the door squeaked, but there was no reaction from anywhere in the archives so he continued.
He could see a book bag sitting on Sasha’s desk that hadn’t been there before, so it was fairly safe to say that it was her in the breakroom. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to tip toe back to the spare room he was staying in, when he noticed something had changed.

There were the doors to the stairs, and next to those was another door he didn’t recall having ever been there before. It looked like the front door to someone’s house, except it was bright yellow and there was something about the edges of the thing, like they were too sharp.

He hovered in the shadows as it slowly creaked open and watched in horror as a hand emerged, a hand that was way too large and had long, sharp fingers. He was frozen in place as the door opened more and he saw the creature the hand belonged to emerge fully. It looked like a man, mostly, but his hair curled and flowed in unnatural ways, and much like the entrance he was coming out of, all of his edges seemed too sharp.

This must be Michael.

As the blonde creature exited its strange domain, Martin stood still as his mind raced. Was it here for him? Or Sasha? Did it mean them harm or did it want to help? What should he do? What could he do? Before he could make up his mind on a course of action he heard a gasp and a voice from just out of sight.

“Michael! You’re here.” Sasha sounded surprised, but not alarmed.

Michael stepped out of sight as it spoke to her, and its voice made Martin dizzy.
“I said I would, Miss James. Do you take me for a liar?”

“I don’t know what to take you for.”

It laughed a laugh that made Martin feel like his skull was about to melt out of his mouth.

“Good,” it replied. “Take me as I am but not as anything.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Sasha didn’t sound impressed.

“Good.” There was amusement in Michael’s voice.

Martin had worked up the courage to move closer to the break room entrance, armed with a Garfield letter opener from Tim’s desk.

“So what did you want to see me for?” She was getting right to the chase and Martin could envision her crossing her arms.

“I have a question for you.”

“Go on.”

There was a pause as if getting straight to the point was a struggle for Michael.
“The Archivist,” It continued at last, its voice taking an unexpectedly unsure tone. “Tell me why he behaved the way he did at the cemetery.”

“Jon-? What do you mean?”

“He did not stop you from meeting me, he did not send you alone, he came with you, he tried to warn you, protect you, even if it meant putting himself in danger. Why?”

“Because he’s my friend? And he wanted to know how to fight back against Prentiss.”

“Do you trust him?” It was an odd question and Martin could only imagine the face Sasha was making at that moment.

“He’s a good man.” she answered at last. “But his decision making skills need work.”

That nauseating laugh permeated the air again. “I can accept that answer.”

Martin pasted himself against the wall as the strange entity stepped out of the breakroom and back towards its door. As it began to step back into the nothingness on the other side of the unnatural threshold it looked over its shoulder towards the break room where Sasha still was.

“I’m glad we are friends.”

Martin didn’t like the way it smiled with all of those teeth as its face disappeared behind yellow wood and the door vanished.

There was silence in the archives for a while before he heard Sasha take a few deep breaths like she was finally letting herself relax.

He mustered the courage to speak. “Sasha?”

She went quiet but he still walked towards the break room entrance that the light was pouring from.

“Sasha are you okay?”

She was standing in her pajamas, curly hair sticking out in all directions in an intense case of bedhead with bags under her eyes.

“Martin.” Her shoulders sagged a little. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“No, actually. I was up. Was that….. Michael?”

She sighed. “So you heard then?”

“Yes. What was that about?”

Sasha shook her head. “I don’t know. It- He, he was outside my apartment when I got home from work saying he wanted to talk to me again. Told me to go to the archives when we could be alone when I was ready. I tossed and turned most of the night before giving up and coming here, but…. It wasn’t anything helpful.”

“What does it want?”

“I don’t know. He says he wants to be friends and to help but I don’t know if I believe him. I don’t know what to think.” She leaned against the counter and let her head droop.

“We should quit. As soon as it’s safe. I know we already decided against it, but this is ridiculous.”

Martin nodded. He hadn’t admitted it when they had had their team discussion on it, but he had typed up a few resignation letters already, he had just never been able to submit them.
“We should start our own paranormal investigation business.” He tried to grin like Tim did when he was doing a bit so she knew he was joking.

She gave him a look that said ‘are you serious?’.

“I bet we could put Ghost Hunt UK out of business. We’ll get Michael to come on the show and we’ll be set.”

“Is this a show or an investigation business?”

“Why not both?”

“Go big or go home, I guess.”

The conversation lapsed and Martin was once again reminded of just how loud the wall clock was as it ticked on.

“You should get some rest.” he told her at last. “Go ahead and take the cot.”

“You sure? I could just go home. I’m going to need to change before work anyway.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you going out at this hour alone, besides, I think Jon will let your work attire slide given the circumstances.”

She gave him a weary smile. “Thanks, Martin.”

As she shuffled off to take the cot he slumped into his office chair and rested his head on his own desk.
Each day there was just more and more.

~

Martin was just leaving document storage when he heard Jon yelling for him. He didn’t sound panicked, just a bit annoyed. It was something about extinguishers.
He dropped the stack of papers he was carrying on his desk as he passed it and went to the office.
Jon wasn’t in there, they must have missed each other.

“Jon, did you call for-?”

He turned to go find his boss and just about walked into a stranger who was standing at the threshold.

“‘scuse us.” The large man said in a thick cockney accent.

“Uh-”

“Looking for the Archivist.” There was a second man right behind the first.

“I’m sorry, are you two meant-”

“Won’t take up your time.” The first one cut him off and then the second one continued.

“Just got a delivery.”

A lot of weird things had been happening recently but something about these two was really setting him on edge despite how normal they looked.
“Look, you really can’t actually-”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

They did have a package for Jon, but….
“Well, I don’t really know where he-”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

He really wanted these two strangers to leave so he took the package from them. “Okay, I will, but you really have to actually-”

“‘course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll try?” It was an odd sentiment from such an odd couple.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.” The first one pointed past him at the desk.

“Might want to change that.” The second one chimed in.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

Martin turned to shut off the recorder and when he looked back they were both gone.

Martin wandered the archives, determined to give Jon the strange package himself. He found Sasha curled up behind some cardboard boxes asleep. Since she had spent an entire work day in her pajamas following her most recent encounter with Michael, she had been much more lax around the office, and finding her in more casual attire or sleeping on the job wasn’t all that uncommon. None of them were really sticking to regular work hours or etiquette at this point.
He made a point to be careful not to wake her as he passed, only to realize that she wasn’t the only one there. He was so swaddled in blankets that Martin hadn’t even recognized Tim under her.

Oh.

Well, far be it from him to interfere with whatever was going on there. He left them be as he continued to look for Jon.

He finally found his boss halfway up a shelf, perched precariously with one foot braced against the wall and another on the shelf as he reached for some folders near the ceiling.

“Jon! Be careful!” Martin hurried forward in case Mr. Sims fell.
As if his warning were a curse instead, Jon jerked to see the source of the noise and the bit of weight he shifted caused him to lose what little footing he had.

“Wha-? Martin- Ah!” His boss scrabbled for purchase on the shelf but only managed to pull a box down with him as he fell. If it weren’t for the fact that the shelf was bolted to the wall it would have come down on them, as it were, the only things that fell on Martin were his boss and a box full of books. To be fair, the box fell on Jon who was on top of him.

Martin tried struggling up right to get them out from under everything and make sure his boss was okay, but then Jon had a hand on his face, knocking off his glasses and covering his eyes.

“Wait wait, Martin- Don’t-”

“Jon, what are you-?”

The other man rolled off of him and as Martin finally managed to sit up all he saw was a brief glimpse of something fuzzy and brown amongst all of the books and boxes and Jonathan Sims with a cardboard box on his head.

Jon’s face appeared from under the box long enough for him to snatch up the scarf he had been wearing on his head before the fall and then he was scrambling to his feet and retreating to a different part of the archives.

“Wait! Jon are you-?” Martin finally managed to put his glasses back on and get to his feet, but it was too late, his boss was gone.

Maybe he should just give the package to Tim or Sasha to pass on to Jon later, or leave it on his desk. He got the sense that tracking him down to give it to him now wouldn’t be a very good idea.

Chapter Text

It was really hard to avoid Martin when the man was living at their workplace. Each time Jon saw him he silently pleaded with whatever deity might be watching that the falling and wearing a box as a hat incident not be brought up, and so far he had been spared just that.

It had been embarrassing, and painful. Jon was used to scaling the shelves of the archives, good at it even, but it had to be the one time that Martin caught him in the act that he fell.
In hindsight he could have just let his assistant see his ears and have been done with it, but he had panicked and covered them up as a reflex.

At least Tim hadn’t seen him scurrying to his office with a box on his head.

At that point he would have just taken it off and told them both.

Mercifully, it had already been a week and Martin hadn’t said a word about it so Jon wasn’t about to bring it up.
He’d hardly been able to focus all week due to the overwhelming awkwardness of the memory, so he was just pacing around his office replaying the scene over and over again in his head when Tim walked in.
“Heya, Boss.”

“Tim! Haven’t you heard of knocking before?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells. Anyway I just got back from the library and saw Elias, he wanted to know about the delivery from last week.”

Jon felt his ears twitch under his scarf. “What delivery?”

“That’s what he wanted to know. Didn’t Martin tell you? He took a package for you and something was delivered right to Artifact Storage.”

That did jostle a memory for him, one of the few interactions he had had with Martin recently where he had stammered about leaving something for him in the office.
“Actually, now that you mention it he did say something about that.” He rummaged through his drawers until he found the little cardboard box he had tucked away without thinking.
“It completely slipped my mind.”

Tim was leaning over his shoulder, curious as to what was in the box. Jon opened it and held up the lighter for the other man to look at.

“An old Zippo lighter with a spiderweb pattern.”

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t, and I don’t allow ignition sources in my archives.”

But as Jon stared at the lighter he felt a strange sensation wash over him. It reminded him of how he had picked up A Guest for Mr. Spider and began to read it without hesitation. It felt like trust.

It was as if this lighter wanted him to trust it, to keep it, to listen to it.

He should throw it away, smash it or lock it up. There was something wrong with it.

He put it in his skirt pocket in a motion so natural he would have thought he had done it a thousand times before.
He could throw it out later, we would throw it out later, just not now.

Jon turned back to Tim who had an inquisitive look on his face.

“You said there was something else?”

“Oh, yes, yeah, it was sent straight to the Artefact Storage, a table of some sort. Ah, looks old. Quite pretty, though. Fascinating design on it.”

Alarm bells started to go off in Jon’s head.
“Tim… Tim, it doesn’t have a hole in it, does it? About six inches square?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe? I’ll be honest I didn’t really notice. It was quite…”

He was liking the sound of this table less and less. “Hypnotic, yes. Do you know who made the delivery? Did they sign in?”

Tim seemed to be having a hard time recalling details. “Um… ah no, sorry no I don’t know.”

“Right, I’ll talk to Martin about it.” The very thing he had been avoiding.

“Do you think it’s trouble? Evil, spooky table?”

“Don’t use the word spooky.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Jon gave him a disparaging look and Tim only grinned.
“Whatever, I’m going to go find Martin.”

“Go get him, Tiger.” His assistant did finger guns at him.

Jon paused to stare at him. The finger guns were not lowered and Jon didn’t blink for way too long.

“Don’t do that.”

Tim put his hands down. “Yeah, okay.” Apparently even he could tell that the joke hadn’t landed.

“Right then. I’m going to go find Martin.”

“Yeah. Go. Shoo.” Tim did a shooing motion with his hands, like they weren’t still standing in Jon’s office, but he wasn’t going to get into it with the other man.

It seemed like he spent an awful lot of time wandering around the archives looking for his assistants. Was that normal? Was any of this normal?

He finally found Martin at his desk of all places, although he hadn’t been there when he had passed it earlier.

“Martin, there you are, last week you signed for a delivery and I-” Jon stopped as something in Martin’s hands caught his attention. He was holding a statement folder open, and paperclipped to the open page was an old photo of a woman.

“Who is that?” He asked.

“Oh, this is the statement of Jason North. I was just finishing up some follow up work before bringing it to you.”

“Sure, sure.” Jon shook his head a little. “Who’s that a picture of?”

Martin followed his boss’ gaze to the little photo of an elderly woman. “Gertrude Robinson, I think? I was actually just about to ask Sasha to confirm since she’s the only one of us that ever met her.”

“Let me see that.” Jon held out his hands for the folder. His assistant handed it to him and he sat on the floor to read and record it right there.

He poured over the words on the paper, seeing them, reading them and feeling them. Living the fear of Jason North, feeling the boiling water in his mouth, the morbid fascination when he found the charred animals and the sick curiosity that turned to terror when he had dropped the bottle.

During the time it took for him to record the statement he was there, in that scorched clearing in the Scottish forest, soaking up a stranger’s terror and spitting it back out.

When he finished and turned off the recorder it occurred to him that he hadn’t brought one with him, and yet there was one sitting next to him on the floor. He looked up to see Martin peering down at him from over his desk, eyes wide and looking more than a little concerned.

“What was that???”

“What was what?”

Martin had hurried around to him to help him up and was just being generally fussy. “You just sat down and read the thing aloud, but you were so engrossed in it I was getting worried.”

“Well, I suppose…” He knew that recording real statements completely engrossed him, but he hadn’t realized how odd it might seem for other people to watch.

“That’s not important right now. This statement….. I need to talk to Sasha about this picture.”

He tried to stand on his own but he was shaking and his legs gave out when he tried. Martin caught him and helped him to his feet.

“Jon, are you okay?” The large man was still holding him, a hand settled on his lower back and the other gently clasping his arm.

“I-” He wanted to answer his assistant's question, but his head was spinning with thoughts of burning and rituals and the woman in the photo.

“I need to talk to Sasha.” He pulled away from Martin to find her, but it seemed that Martin’s voice had carried and both Tim and Sasha were now standing in the bullpen looking confused.

“Sasha!” He held up the photo. “Tell me if you recognize this woman.”

“Um….” She looked to Martin who could only shrug. She adjusted her glasses and took the photo from him. “It’s Gertrude Robinson.”

Jon felt the floor tilt under him but he kept his balance. “It can’t be.” He muttered under his breath.

“Jon….. What’s going on?” Sasha asked but he wasn’t really paying attention to anyone else at the moment.

He had worked for the Institute for years, and in all that time he had avoided her. He had heard of the cranky woman in the archives who could kill plants with a look, and he had firmly decided to never go near her, to never speak to her, to never meet her.
To never hear her voice or see her face.

“Are there any audio recordings of Gertrude?” He asked, hoping that someone might say yes.

“Maybe? I’m not sure.” Sasha and Tim were exchanging worried looks and he was sure behind him Martin’s face appeared similar.

“This can’t be real.” He looked down at the little photo in despair. “It can’t have been her all along. It can’t.”

“Oh my god.”

“Does this mean that-?

“Jon, are you okay?”

They were all asking him questions but he could only look at the photo of his predecessor. At the photo of his mother.

Four years.

Four years he had worked at the Institute and had been aware of the archives and the archivist.
He could have walked down to this dusty basement at any time and found her. He could have gotten over his trepidation and met her face to face and then his search would have been over.
He had played out the scene in his head a thousand times over the years, even the ones where he was too late, but none of them had gone like this. Never had he held her photo in his hand only to realize that he had been a fool who had let his fear debilitate him and keep him from reuniting with his mother.

“Jon?” Martin was touching his arm, unsure if he should do or say more.

“I need a moment. I need to think.” he managed at last.

“So that’s her then?” Tim asked.

He nodded. “I think so.”

Considering the contents of the statement it could only be her, it had that same phantom fire that he remembered.

He leaned against the nearest surface, in this case Martin’s desk. “I don’t understand.” he muttered. “She had been the archivist all along, some fifty years, and I never knew.”
He tried to compose himself, to square his shoulders and look determined. It didn’t seem to work because Martin’s hand was immediately on his back again, helping to keep him steady on his feet.

“Sasha.” He looked her in the eyes. “Everything you know about Gertrude Robinson, everything you can find, I want to hear it.”

“Alright.” She seemed a little unsure but he wasn’t going to let anyone talk him out of this. Even if he had found her he still had to know.

He went to his office and pulled out the binder, flipping through he found his page dedicated to Gertrude’s death.

Her death.

“I’ve done some research on the side on Gertrude, officially she’s still missing. Elias is no help. I've tried asking him about her. I even called the police. They were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality, but there’s no body.”

Sasha was standing closer to him than the other two and it was her that spoke. “Jon, I heard about what happened to Gertrude, or what little we know about it. There was a lot of blood, more than she could lose and survive.”

He pulled his eyes away from the binder to meet the gaze of each of his assistants in turn.
“I know she’s probably dead, I still need to figure out what happened to her. I-I have to. She was…..”

The word Mother had never been the right one. She had found him abandoned in the cold on a lonely London street, and she had taken him in, cared for him, given him a home and a name and a life.
Some might say he had just been her cat but it wasn’t that simple. To her he may have been just a cat but to him she had been his whole world.

His mother.

And she had died here.

He ran a hand along the desk. His desk. Her desk.

He’d never noticed before, but looking closely at the grooves of the dark wood revealed old stains that were almost invisible.
He needed to know what happened and why.

“There’s case #0151403 that says someone dreamt of her death, and #0151904 is about the People’s Church of the Divine Host, on May 15th 2015 the police were called back to the chapel and that’s the day she- she’s listed as having passed away. that statement has a lot of connecting themes with #00201312, then there’ statement-”

“Jon, hey. Jon.” Sasha was grabbing his wrists as he furiously made more notes for the binder and rambled. Having her forcefully stop him made him cut himself off mid sentence and finally face his friends.

“It just keeps going, Sasha.” He said as he looked into her eyes. She nodded once.

“But not right now.” She released his hands and stepped back. “Right now you should take some time to process before jumping back into this.

“You’re probably right.” He ran his fingers over the faint stain on the desk again.

“I think an early day is in order.” He said after a long moment.

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Martin asked.

He would have to be. He’d been on his own since his grandmother had died and he couldn’t help but feel like now was no different.
“Yes, I just…… Yes.” While running his digits on the wood his index finger snagged on a splinter and he watched as a bead of bright red oozed out. He rubbed it into the desk’s varnish, adding his own blood to its collection. It only felt right. This way they could share some blood after all.

“I’m going home.”

No one stopped him when he grabbed his coat and marched to the stairs leading out of the archives.

“Call or text if you need anything.” Tim offered and Martin chimed in with a quiet, “Take care.”

As he walked, Jon felt an unfamiliar weight bump into his leg with each step. He paused to check his pocket and fished out an old Zippo lighter with a spiderweb design. He had already forgotten about it.
He should throw it in a gutter and be done with it, but…… he was tired, and it could wait for another day.
He put it back in his pocket and continued on his way home.

Chapter Text

It was already two in the afternoon and Jon was still in bed.

To be fair, he had been up and about off and on all night and even for a few hours that morning, as that was the sort of sleep pattern he preferred to have.

He had taken a day off following the revelation about his predecessor, Gertrude Robinson and now it was the weekend, so he could sleep whenever and wherever he pleased.
As soul crushing as the situation seemed, there were few things more refreshing than spending a couple of days in his flat alone where he could move his tail freely and not have to worry about anyone seeing him be himself. He had spent most of his waking hours since he left work working on a sewing project, a vest that he had been going to embroider with the title of Head Archivist, but now he wasn’t so sure about that part.

He was just stretching before rolling over to go back to sleep when his phone started vibrating. One moment his phone was on his night stand and the next it was flying through the air before hitting the wall.
He really needed to keep his phone somewhere he couldn’t reach it so he would stop slapping it every time it startled him.

It was still buzzing from where it lay on the floor, which was a good sign that it wasn’t broken at least.
He hadn’t set an alarm so he must be getting a call.

Jon was wide awake at this point so he figured he might as well see who was calling him at least. Once he had detangled himself from the bedsheets and snatched up the phone he could see it was Sasha. He shrugged a little and answered it.
“Jonathan Sims speaking.”

“Hey, Jon. Are you busy?”

“I just woke up, why?”

“Oh. Well, I wanted to check up on you and offer to bring you something to eat.” Now that she mentioned it, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

“Uh, I suppose. When?”

“I’m outside your building now.”

“You wha-?” Jon stumbled to a window to peer out of the curtains in case he could see her, and sure enough she was standing on the sidewalk by the building’s entrance.

“I’m headed up now.” As she said it over the phone he could see her enter through the doors, which meant she’d be at his flat in less than two minutes.

“Wait, Sasha-” She hung up.

He held the phone and panicked for a moment out of habit before remembering that she knew he was a cat and managed to relax.
But he was still only wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt, which weekend or not it wasn’t appropriate garb to entertain a coworker in.
He had only just managed to struggle into a T-shirt when there was a knock on his door.

When he opened it she was standing there, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder and a soft smile on her face. When she saw him standing there with his ears out and tail free the smile widened and he quickly ushered her in and closed the door.

“Sorry about the short notice, but I figured too much of a heads up would give you time to tell me not to come over.”

“Um.” He blinked as he wrapped his head around that reasoning. She wasn’t wrong but admitting it outright didn’t seem like the best idea, and it felt like he should be mad about it.
He wasn’t though, so he let it slide.

“Well you’re here now. Speaking of which, how do you know my address?”

She was setting a few glass dishes on his countertop from her bag as she responded. “I know my way around the Institute’s employee records.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to.” He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Did that mean she had access to his salary and other employment information?
He was glad Sasha was trustworthy because he’d hate to think of what she could do if she used her computer skills for more dubious reasons.

She only laughed a little at his response and handed him a plate piled high with roasted chicken breast, mashed potatoes with gravy and peas. Lots of gravy.
“It’s all cat safe. I spent an hour googling everything in the recipe.”

He sat on one of the bar stools at the counter with her and grabbed some forks from the drawer.

“I appreciated that, although with my body mass it would take a lot of any one thing to do any real harm. I can have a little poison, as a treat.”

The food was good, filling and he was sure it was at least a little fattening, but he noticed that she wasn’t eating.
“Did you make this?”

“Nope. Tim did. He made us a big lunch and set some aside for me to bring to you.”

One of Jon’s ears twitched as she spoke. “I’m surprised he didn’t come with you.”

Sasha shifted on the stool as she replied. “Oh, he wanted to, but I know about the whole-” She gestured to his ears and tail, “-Cat thing and he doesn’t so I talked him out of it under pretense of not wanting to overwhelm you.”

“Hmmm. Well, I do appreciate that. I’m not really in the mood to squish my ears under a scarf right now.”

“I didn’t think you would be.”

It was kind of awkward for him to eat while she just sat there and watched so he ended up getting up mid meal to make some coffee.

“I only have decaf.” he held up the box and Sasha wrinkled her nose.

“Worse than that, you only have instant coffee.”

He turned the box over to look at it with a frown. “What’s wrong with instant?”

“So much.”

He snorted a little and made her a cup anyway, which she took and sipped to be polite. He hadn’t really made it for her, it was just so he didn’t feel like such a bad host while he ate and she didn’t.
They sat in a silence that wasn’t the least bit comfortable while he finished his food and she looked at something on her phone. Finally he got up to get his own, which he used to send Tim a text thanking him for the meal. At this point Sasha was wandering around his flat looking at things. She paused by his sewing station and inspected the vest he was working on.

“You really are very good at it.”

“Hmmm?” He looked up from his and Tim’s message history.

“Your sewing. You really do good work.”

He set his phone on the counter and walked over to join her. “I’ve had to modify a lot of clothes over the years so I’ve had lots of practice.”

“Like your dashing tropical fish pajama pants?” She pointed at his waist band that had been altered to accommodate his tail.

“Yes, exactly.” He crossed his arms, determined to not let her embarrass him in his own home.

“Why get into academia?” She asked as she pursued his collection of dvds, mostly documentaries.

“Why not?”

“I would have thought you’d want to live a life out of sight, something remote or related to your….. Heritage.”
Georgie had asked him something similar when she had found out, something to the extent of why he was risking exposure by going to University.

“I like academia. I liked being a researcher, I like the work we do.” He pushed a book of Irish folktales around on his end table by the couch as he spoke.
“I started life as a cat but…. There’s more to me than just that. I am, for better or worse, a person.”

“Oh, well, yes of course.” Sasha looked somewhat ashamed that her question had come across the way it had. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to reduce you to just…. Just a cat.”

“It’s fine. I don’t always know how I feel about it myself. Usually I think of myself as Jonathan Sims, an Oxford graduate and Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, but sometimes I can’t help but think of myself as a simple animal that got stuck as something I’m not supposed to be. As a, well, as a cat. But, neither is right? I-I try not to dwell on it.”

Sasha nodded and moved to sit on the couch where she looked up at him and patted the seat next to her. He accepted the invitation (even though it was his couch) and curled his tail up over his legs as he sunk into the cushions.

“So now what are you going to do?” She asked.

“I’m going to figure out what happened to my mother.”

Her gaze fell to her hands that were fiddling with the edge of a blanket that she had pulled onto her lap, “Jon…. I know you… it’s dangerous in the archives. Prentiss aside, the fact that something happened to Gertrude and everything else….” She shifted and placed a hand over his. “I know that this is important to you, but it’s not worth your life, and staying in this job might just cost you that.”
He pulled away from her touch and faced the kitchen so she couldn’t see his scowl. “I can’t just not know what happened to her, to me. I let myself hide away from anything I thought was too risky for too long and I missed my chance to see her. I can’t quit, I just can’t. I have to know.”

He heard her take a shaky breath. “Okay.”

He wanted to ask if she would stay and help, but he wasn’t sure he’d like her answer so he refrained.

In the silence that followed her phone began to buzz nonstop. “Tim’s blowing up my phone.” She frowned down at the screen.
“It seems like I should go check on him, something about Spam that doesn’t sound good?” She stood and gathered up her stuff.

“I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He didn’t get up from the couch.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Take care of yourself Jon.”

“You too.”

She left him alone in his flat with a full belly and a growing sense of despair.

~

“Elias! Elias!”

Jon banged on Elias Bouchard’s office door and called loudly for him.

“Mr. Sims, please. I’ve told you already that Mr. Bouchard doesn’t want to be disturbed.” Rosie was pleading with him to stop shouting and pounding, but Jon had no intention of stopping.

“Then he best come out here and make me.” He snapped. He might have felt bad about the way Rosie’s eyes went wide and she took a step back but he was too angry to care.

“Elias!” He slammed his fist down on the door and was just drawing his arm back to do it again when the wood disappeared and was replaced by his boss’ face looking more than a little pissed off.
It wasn’t even eight in the morning and Jon hadn’t even been to the archives yet, he’d come straight to his boss’ office once Monday had arrived.

“Jon.” Elias put a measured amount of both fury and courtesy into saying his name that normally would have made him wilt, but not today.

“Elias.” Jon took a step forward to pass him and enter the room.

Elias looked briefly surprised at his bravado but let him in. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk about Gertrude.” Jon spat.

“What’s there to talk about?” The Institute’s Head crossed his arms and leveled his piercing gaze onto the Archivist.

“You know more about her death than you let on, I’m sure of it.”

As Jon spoke, Elias’ face went through several emotions all at once, but not in response to what he was saying. Rather it was like he was having silent revelations within his own mind. His anger shifted to confusion, and then to shock, for a brief moment it was something akin to terror before there was a flicker of delight and his face settled back to its normal neutral expression.
Jon could feel the unnatural energy rolling off of his boss as his eyes focused on him, and he let the faintest of hisses escape his lips.

“I see.” Elias’ whole attitude had shifted in an instant and he was wearing that infuriating half smile again. The older man cleared his throat and motioned for Jon to take a seat as he continued. “Let’s clear some things up, shall we?”

“Let’s.” Jon was channeling more hostility towards his boss than he had ever done before, but Mr. Bouchard seemed completely unfazed.

“As I’m sure you know, no body was found, but a large amount of blood was found on her desk that matched her DNA.”

“That you found.”

“Yes…On the 15th of March last year, I had a query about a statement one of our researchers was after and went down to the Archives. Gertrude wasn’t there, but her desk was covered in blood. I called the police, and there was a huge search, but there was no sign of Gertrude, alive or dead. She didn’t have any assistants, so there were no witnesses, and no-one saw or heard anything.”
Elias had sat down behind his desk but Jon was still standing, palms pressed against the wooden surface as he leaned over to glare down at his boss.

“Why didn’t she have any assistants?”

“Gertrude was in charge of hiring or requesting her own assistants and after her most recent one left she never hired more, and I didn’t press the issue.”

“And yet you transferred Martin to the archives without so much as emailing me.”

“Let’s just say I learned from my previous oversights.”

“But what haven’t you told me? I’m sure you know something you’re not saying.” Jon very much wished he had his claws because digging them into the polished wood and leaving gauges in it seemed like a great way to intimidate the other man.

“What more is there to tell you? That’s all I know.”

Jon knew he was lying, but he wasn’t sure how to make him admit it. He needed evidence, or leverage. He did his best to lace his voice with disdain as he addressed Elias. “I know you’re lying, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this, I assure you.”

He turned to march back to the archives but before he could slam the door shut behind him he heard Mr. Bouchard chuckle. “Oh course, Jon. What sort of Archivist would you be if you didn’t?”

Even as the distance between himself and Elias Bouchard grew, Jon couldn’t help but feel like he’d come out of that encounter the loser.

Chapter Text

If mankind had done one thing right it was inventing the stapler.

Staplers were wonderful pieces of equipment, sturdy, simple and useful. They were a quick and easy solution to all of the loose papers that plagued so many office buildings, schools and institutes of research and knowledge. What more is that the act of using one was akin to hitting something if you were aggressive enough with it.

Slamming a fist down on a stapler was a great way to let off some steam without hurting someone, and Jon was taking full advantage of that.

He lined some papers up.

He slammed down on the stapler.

Thwuchunk.

He lined some papers up.

He slammed down on the stapler.

Thwuchunk.

He lined some papers up.

He slammed down on the stapler.

Thwuchunk.

It was calming, soothing, even.

The stapler probably would have been enough for him to burn off his frustration eventually, but when he spotted a spider in the corner…… well, if the universe was going to be so kind as to bring him a target he wasn’t going to scorn such a gift.
Jon watched it slowly creep along the shelf at the back of his office while his tail twitched in anticipation.

It had been almost two weeks since he had found Gertrude’s picture attached to case #0090608 and no one had been of any real help.

No, that wasn’t true…. Elias hadn’t been any help.

Tim had done a decent job of cheering him up by pranking Martin with gummy worms, and Sasha had accessed old institute employee records and found a few of Gertrude’s old addresses, although there wasn’t much else of use. She did discover that there were a lot of old financial records that had been deleted that she was still trying to recover and there was some hope those would reveal something of interest.
Martin for his part had thrown a mug at Tim’s gummy worms, which had been pretty funny, and he was doing his best to stay out of Jon’s way which was appreciated.

But it just wasn’t enough.

He was once again backsliding into old bad habits, although this time around he wasn’t taking it out on anyone, except the stapler.
And this spider.

Jon stayed as still as possible, save for his twitching tail as he watched the spider creep along the shelf. It settled within his reach right in front of a box that blocked its escape route very nicely.
In the blink of an eye he lunged at the spider, bringing his hand down on the spot where it was sitting.
He was fairly certain he had killed it, but he seemed to have gotten more than just the spider as the whole shelf collapsed under the impact.

As boxes and papers and a myriad collection of office supplies rained down around him, he staggered back coughing from all of the dust that was being thrown into the air.

“You alright?”

He had been so preoccupied with the spider and the collapsing shelf he hadn’t even noticed Sasha entering the room.
“Ah, Yes. A spider.”

“A spider?”

“Yes, I was trying to kill it and the shelf collapsed.”

She moved up to stand next to him as they surveyed the scene.
“Did you get it?” Sasha was craning her neck to look through the debris.

“I think so. It was a nasty, bulbous thing.”

She chuckled a little. “Well, I won’t tell Martin.”

Jon groaned. Martin’s soft spot for spiders never failed to annoy him. “Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem.”

As he was speaking, Sasha had moved closer to the wall behind the ruined shelf and was reaching a hand out.
“Hey, Jon. The falling shelf busted a hole in the wall. I thought this was an exterior wall?”

“It’s supposed to be-” He was just brushing the dust off of his skirt when he smelled it.

Rot.

It was oozing from the broken plaster that Sasha was approaching, and beyond that he could hear the writhing of thousands of worms.

“Sasha get back!” He jumped forward and wrapped both arms around her waist before dragging her away from the crumbling wall. It was at that moment that the worms started to pour through the plaster, flooding the office with stinking, wriggling bodies.
“We need to go! We need to run!” He tugged her out of the room and slammed the door just in time to hear a multitude of thumps against the other side of the wood.

“Extinguishers! Where are they?!?” Even as he was saying it, Sasha was pulling the pin to one and spraying the floor where more worms were creeping towards them.

As Jon looked around for his own, he felt his skirt swing with some extra weight and something in his pocket bumped against his leg.

A tape recorder.

When had he put that there?

He didn’t have time to ponder it as Sasha began spraying the ground right at his feet and he jumped back, narrowly avoiding a worm that had lunged at his legs.

“Jon! There’s too many!” She cried as she continued to spray everything in sight.

“Guys? Is everything… Oh Christ!” Martin rounded the corner right in time to see a new wave of worms ooze from the cracks around the office door.

“Shut up and get the extinguishers!” Jon snapped.

“Wh-What?” The poor man looked dumbly at the worms and then at his boss.

“The CO2 ! Get the goddamn CO2!” Yelling more seemed to snap him out of it as he suddenly turned and reached for one stashed under a nearby table.

“Right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, yep.” He quickly joined Sasha in spraying the worms while Jon scrambled to get an extinguisher of his own.

“There’s too many of them!” Martin cried, and he couldn’t help but agree.
Sasha and Martin were yelling back and forth about spraying and Prentiss and spraying Prentiss and what to do and he was just trying to think.

What should he do? What could he do?

Think Jonathan, think.

He had his own extinguisher now and was spraying wildly with the other two, but as he turned he saw a worm launch itself through the air and burrow into Sasha’s arm. There wasn’t a thought in his head as he lunged forward, just the instinct that screamed
Kill.

He had grown his claws out a little since his last interaction with Elias, and while they weren’t as good as a knife, he was fast and managed to get a hold of the worm before it was in too deep and he felt his nails sink into its soft body as it popped and died.

“Document storage!” Martin was shouting even as Sasha realized what had happened and screamed. Jon tossed the worm away with disgust and gripped Sasha’s wrist to pull her along.

“Go to document storage!” Martin practically shoved them in front of himself as he shepherded them to document storage even as more worms charged at them.

Despite the screaming, worms and CO2 they managed to make it to Document storage and lock the door behind them with minimal damage. Although it wasn’t until after they were trying to catch their breath did Sasha notice several worms digging into the flesh of Jon’s leg.

“Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got something for this.” Martin pulled out a corkscrew and Jon couldn’t help but growl a little in the back of his throat at the way it was being brandished at him.

Martin looked at him with alarm and Sasha smacked Jon on the back of his head.

“Don’t growl at him!”

“I didn’t-”

She shushed him as she took the corkscrew from Martin and settled in front of her boss. “Here let’s get these out.”

Several worm extractions and a cacophony of inhuman noises later, Jon was looking down at his bleeding leg while Martin stomped the extracted worms to death.
To his credit, the large man hadn’t even so much as raised an eyebrow at the very feline noises Jon had been making the whole time.

“The corkscrew works really well for this. Why do you have this Martin?” Sasha was talking very casually as she looked over the bloodied implement.

“For this, actually.” The man looked a little sheepish but kept talking.

“I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, th-the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option. …” Jon and Sasha looked at him in surprised awe which was just flustering him more.

“Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens.”

“Well…. Thank you.” Jon shifted a little so he wasn’t sitting on his tail anymore.
“And, um. Sorry. For growling at you.”

Martin looked like he wasn’t sure what to say to that so he just shrugged a little and looked away. “Don’t mention it.”

Jon pushed himself to sit up some more as he looked around the room.
“This room is sealed. Climate controlled, as well. Strong door. Soundproof. These old files are far better protected than we ever were.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice as he said it.

“Died in the line of Duty.”

“Martin, can you see anything out there?” Sasha was still couched down by Jon but Martin was standing and looking out of the little door window.

“The worms have backed off a bit. I don’t see Prentiss. There’s a recorder on the floor over there though.”

“What are they waiting for?” Jon wondered aloud.

“Tim, maybe? He’s at lunch.” Martin offered.

“Oh, god.” Sasha had a hand over her mouth now, eyes wide with worry. “Can someone call him? I left my phone on my desk.” Martin had pulled out his but was frowning at it. “There’s no reception in here, we can’t contact anyone.”

“Oh no….” Sasha was standing now, trying to see out of the window with Martin. They waited and watched for a few minutes, whispering back and forth about what they saw and what they should do before Martin suddenly started shouting through the glass.

“Tim! It’s Tim!” Sasha was by his side in an instant and Jon was struggling to his feet despite the wounds on his leg.

“Oh my god he can’t hear us he has headphones on!”

“It’s not the headphones, the room’s sound proof, that’s why!”

“Tim! Look out!”

“There’s Prentiss! I see her, I see her!”

“Tim! -Oh screw this!”
Sasha was yanking the door open and charging out before anyone could stop her, and Jon did try but the pain in his leg made him stumble.

“Sasha don’t-” It was too late, she was gone. “Martin, what’s happening?” He asked frantically.

“She got to Tim, there was a struggle, Sasha’s leaving the archives, I don’t think any of the worms got her. Tim ran into the office. Oh god he ran into the office, that’s where the worst of the worms are.”

“Martin, stay calm. We need to stay calm. What about Prentiss?”

“She’s still out there, she’s doing something with the boxes of statements I think? It’s….. Gross…. She’s not going after Sasha… Or Tim…..”

“We can’t worry about Tim right now….. It- it won’t-”

“Right, right. Who knows? Maybe he found the spare CO2?” Martin still had his face by the window as Jon once again tried to stand.

“What spare CO2?”

“Oh…. Well….” Even with what little he could see of Martin’s face, Jon could tell he was turning a bit red. “I hid some… so the worms wouldn’t find them.”

“Huh.” It was stupid, but also such a painfully Martin thing to do. They didn’t speak for a time while Jon worked his way up off of the floor. He was bracing himself against the wall so that he could stand, and after he bumped against one of the filing cabinets Martin finally noticed what he was doing. “Jon, you shouldn’t try to stand with that leg!”

“Martin, don’t-” Before Jon could finish protesting, the larger man had an arm around his waist to steady him, but the way that he moved closer made Jon’s head rub against his shoulder and the bandana that was barely being kept in place by a few bobby pins came loose. Jon could do nothing but hold his breath as Martin pulled him close to keep him upright and briefly turned his attention back to the window before looking down at his boss.

“Here, lean on me so you can see-”

Jon watched in real time as Martin’s eyes traveled from his own to the top of his head and a dumbfounded look spread over the larger man’s face before it shifted to something akin to triumph. “You do have cat ears!”

“I- what? Did you know?”

“Tim and I were talking about it and he said- wait are you a werecat?”

“A were-? No? I’m- I used to be a cat but a Leitner turned me into this!” Jon was trying to wiggle away from Martin but it was hard with his wounded leg throbbing and his skirt being pinched between the other man and the door.

“You were a cat?” Martin's hand was hovering by the side of his head as if he very desperately wanted to touch his ears but was only barely resisting.

“Yes, and um… Now I’m this.” He gestured rather vaguely to himself.

“Do you have a tail?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it!”

Martin was still holding him uncomfortably close and Jon was desperately trying to figure out how to extract himself from both the position and the conversation.
It was awkward, being held against his assistant as flesh eating worms trapped them and his deepest secret was being exposed. It didn’t help that when he tried to tilt his head back to make eye contact with Martin his nose almost brushed against the other man’s jaw.

“So, do you mind if I ask-” Martin’s question was cut off by the fire alarm as it ripped through the air.

Jon’s ears were sensitive and the blaring alarm caused him to hiss and throw his hands over his ears as he adjusted.

“Are you alright?” Martin finally shifted so it was just his hands on Jon’s waist and not his whole body pressing against him.

“Yes, just caught me off guard.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it? It means Sasha probably is getting help!”

“Hopefully, yes. And if the fire suppressant system goes off we should be fine.”

Just as he was saying this and extracting himself from Martin there was a bang on the other side of the wall.
Martin’s arms wrapped around him again in response to the noise. “I thought that wall was meant to be solid?!”

“So did I.” This time Jon let the other man hold him as he flattened his ears and felt his tail puff up. “We don’t have any sort of weapon do we?”

“I-I mean-”

“Don’t say the corkscrew!”

They couldn’t see out of the window because it was covered in worms, so clearly there wasn’t any safety out there.
As the banging on the wall grew louder and the plasterboard cracked, Martin squeezed him in his arms and Jon let out a quiet wail of distress.

“Well, Martin, I guess this is it. I just want to-”

The wall erupted in a spray of plasterboard and dust and someone burst through into the room.

“Hi guys!”

“Tim!” Martin gasped.

Tim had a big grin on his face and was wielding a fire extinguisher like a battering ram, but lowered it in favor of pointing at Jon and basically screaming.
“Ears!” He looked at Martin with a wildly excited look before he took in the full picture and dropped the extinguisher altogether, gripping the sides of his head in delighted surprise.
“Were you two kissing!?!?”

At this Martin did drop Jon who wasn’t expecting it and fell to the floor with a gasp.

“No! We were- oh my god! Jon, I'm sorry!”

“I’m fine, I just-” he swished his tail in an attempt to gain balance as he rolled off of his hurt leg.

Tim was losing his mind. “Cat boy Jonathan Sims! Cat boy Jonathan Sims!”

“Shut up Tim!” He snapped as he swatted at Martin’s hands. “We have more important things to worry about!”

“Like you two making kissy faces at each other!”

“No!” Martin sounded horrified.

“What the fuck is happening?!?” Jon cried from the floor.

“Our escape!” Tim pointed to the hole in the wall.

“Where does that go?” Martin was still hovering over Jon, wanting to help him back up but being kept at bay by the other man’s protests.

“Into the tunnels!”

“Into the wha-? Wait, you were in the office, what happened?” Jon had managed to pull himself up along the wall again.

“Funny story really. I ran into the office, worms everywhere, horrible death and everything, tripped and fell in some boxes and there were like 20 cans of gas in there. I’m a bit light headed from all of the Co2 but not bitten, see!”
Tim began to unbuckle and shuffle out of his trousers despite the protests of his two coworkers.

“Okay, okay! Put them back on!” Jon was averting his gaze but Martin was frozen with embarrassment at the sight of Tim’s boxers and bare legs.

As he was pulling his trousers back up, Tim looked around. “Hey, Martin, why do you have an extra recorder in here?”

Poor Martin was turning redder and redder with each passing second. “Well I- uh… I write poetry and record myself sometimes…. I think the recorders have a sort of low-fi charm…”

Tim paused mid buckle to stare at him while Jon lashed his tail wildly to maintain balance as he did the same.

Martin squirmed under their unblinking stares. “Look, let’s just go. Jon’s a cat, Tim took off his pants and I write poetry so we’ve all opened up to each other so let's just move on, shall we?”

“Alright, into the tunnels?” Jon looked at Tim expectantly.

“Yeah, I think most of the worms have gone into the archives, there’s not a lot down there, but the ones that are are faster and quieter so we’ll need to be careful.”

“Right.”

Martin and Tim were each armed with a fire extinguisher and Jon’s job was to not fall behind with his bad leg. They had their escape route and the only thing left was to use it.

The three of them made their way through the tunnels, spraying, dodging and shouting the whole time, but none of them were bitten.
It helped that Jon could still see in the dark of the tunnels and could tell from the choking stench when they were nearing a swarm of them.

Things seemed to be going decently well, at least they weren’t getting worse for a while, until a huge mass of worms began surging down the tunnel towards them.
All three of them ran as fast as they could, but Tim was supporting Jon and they couldn’t keep up with Martin as he disappeared into the darkness ahead of them.

“Martin!” Tim called after him, but there was no answer and as they reached the bend where he had vanished from sight they were left facing several branches of the tunnel.
With an army of worms behind them they had no choice but to pick a route and keep moving.

After hobbling through the damp corridor for an indiscriminate amount of time, they stopped to catch their breath.
Jon sunk to the floor and began to tear off the bottom of his skirt to finally put some pressure on his wounded leg.

As he was wrapping it Tim took in their surroundings while shaking his head.
“What a day.” He looked at his boss. “Did you see what happened to Sasha after she came after me?”

With a grunt Jon tied off his makeshift bandage. “She got out of the archives at least, and I assume it was her that set off the fire alarm.”

Tim nodded and let out a little laugh of relief. “She should be fine then” He rubbed his face. “She has to be alright then.”

Jon got to his feet again, tail whipping back and forth for balance. “We need to keep moving, find a way out of here.”

“Once we do, you’ve got to tell me the whole story with… All that.” Tim pointed at his tail as he moved closer in case Jon needed help.

“I suppose I don’t have a choice at this point.”

They didn’t have to go far before they found a trapdoor that seemed to lead upward.
The two of them stood under it as they gathered the nerve to open it.

“This could be the way out.” Tim said.

“Or the way right to Prentiss.” Jon added.

“And here I am without my anti-worm jacket.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

The trapdoor loomed over them, offering an unknown fate. Freedom or death.

“Well, you ready?” Tim asked.

Jon’s whole body was wound with adrenaline and fear, ears angled back and tail puffed up. He clicked his recorder back on.
“Yes.”

Tim had barely begun to push up on the hatch when Jon was hit by the suffocating stench of rot.
“Tim stop!” He pulled his assistant's hands away, but the crack of an opening he had made was enough and worms started tumbling down around them.

Worse than that, the hatch didn’t close all of the way as it was caught by warped and decaying fingers, pocketed with holes that oozed puss. Prentiss was pulling the trapdoor open from her end so that she could send her swarm down after them. She lifted it high enough that they could see her worm riddled face, stretched into a victorious grin and malice shining in her eyes.

“Hello, Archivist.” Prentiss’ voice was like the sound of wet meat hitting the ground laced with the sticky sweet song of decay and the rancid odor that rolled off of her made Jon wail.

“Oh no.” Tim was blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he was looking at, but he wasn’t moving. Not running, not fighting, just standing there in shock.
The human part of Jon felt the same, but the feline part had a course of action wired into it.

Lash out then escape.

His claws weren’t enough for this and he only had one thing of any note on his person, so that’s what he used.

Cats are natural born hunters. They are agile, stealthy, have incredible night vision, keen hearing and sense of smell, sharp teeth and claws and intrinsic instincts that encourage them to teach themselves how to hunt from kittenhood, and even though Jon
hadn’t been a true cat for many years, all of those traits still lingered within him. He also had the mind of a man that told him that getting close to Prentiss was a death sentence, so he used the only weapon at his disposal and he used it well.

The tape recorder was not heavy, but Jon threw it hard and with precision and half a kilogram of plastic to the face at a high speed would catch just about anyone off guard. Prentiss squealed and dropped the trapdoor which slammed shut above them.

There were still worms swarming them in the tunnel but nearly as many as there would have if she had kept it open for much longer.

Tim and Jon did their best to avoid them but they were being overrun and each could see the other being burrowed into by the silver parasites. Then there was an ear piercing shriek that permeated through the wooden hatch above them and through the multitudes of worms that surrounded them. Even the ones eating through their flesh spasmed and died in time with the scream.

Jon once again covered his ears and hissed as he and Tim screamed in tandem with the Flesh Hive.

Then it was quiet, the worms fell still even as they hung from the holes in their flesh, and Jon knew without looking, without a shadow of doubt that Jane Prentiss was dead.

Chapter Text

This had to be the worst day ever.

Martin wandered around the tunnels, panic threatening to take hold as he watched his phone battery steadily drain away and he grew closer and closer to being trapped in the dark.
Jane Prentiss attacking the Institute alone was enough to make this the worst day ever, but he had blundered and made a fool of himself at every turn.

Maybe if he had reacted quicker when the worms first appeared they wouldn’t have gotten trapped in Document Storage and then they wouldn’t have been separated. He had manhandled poor Jon when they had been left alone together and ended up making him tell him his secret, then he had left Jon and Tim behind when they were fleeing from killer worms.
He had no idea what had happened to any of his friends, at best they hated him for abandoning them and at worst they were dead, and he might still wind up dead himself.

He had dropped his torch somewhere, either running from worms or when he was….. Getting handsy with Jon….. God at the time he hadn’t been thinking about it but now that he had been wandering alone underground for some time he could only cringe at the memory.

The real issue was that he had no light source other than his phone and its battery wouldn’t last forever.

He hadn’t seen any worms for a while, and that was starting to worry him. He could be so far from the Institute now that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back if his light went out.
He alternated between walking with his hand on the wall in the dark and turning on his torch to see if there were any branches or changes to conserve the battery.

After wandering without direction for an unknown amount of time, he heard a horrible screech echo through the tunnels in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Despite his own efforts to call for help, Martin’s voice had seemed to be swallowed up by the oppressive stone around him, and yet this scream bounced and traveled to him with ease. It was like hundreds of thousands of voices screaming as one, and in his mind there was only one thing that could cause that noise.

He tried to deduce which way it had come from and follow it back to the Institute.
He walked and walked for what felt like hours before he turned his phone torch back on and saw a door set into the stone wall. Hope surged through him at the sight.

This could be his way out!

Martin hurried to it and paused only briefly to check for worms before throwing the door open.

There were no worms, no Prentiss, no Jon or Tim, no Institute or even stairs leading up to any of it.

Instead there was a corpse.

There was a corpse in a chair surrounded by boxes filled with tapes.

Martin froze.

It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

It was.

Gertrude Robinson, dead, slumped forward in a chair, her mouth agape and half moon glasses askew on her face.
She hadn’t been touched by the rot of death, rather it was almost like she had bleed out and the eerie stillness of the tunnels wouldn’t let her body decay properly.
She was still wearing a tattered shawl and a button up blouse that was stained with old blood.

She had been shot.

Martin was hit with a wave of nausea as the room spun. He had to put a hand against the wall to keep from losing his balance.

What was he going to tell Jon?

Oh god what was he going to tell Jon?

He wanted to cry, scream, throw up or all of the above.

Instead he managed to take a few steps into the room, grab a cassette from one of the boxes and run back out.
He ran some ways down the tunnel before he stopped to think about what he had just seen and done.
He looked down at the tape in his hand with what little light he had.

What would he do with this? Give it to Jon? Maybe he should listen to it first, just in case there was something horrible on it.
He put it into his pocket and tried to calm down.
He still needed to get out of the tunnels before he ran out of light, then he could figure out what to do about Gertrude’s body.

Martin turned his phone torch back on when he felt worms squelch under his feet.

He held his breath as there was light once again. He had found plenty of dead worms so far, but he still braced himself to see a wriggling mass of them, or Prentiss herself. Instead there were dead worms strewn over the floor, along with blood splatters. Shining the light around he quickly spotted a trapdoor in the ceiling and realized this must be a way out.
He looked back at the blood on the ground and did his best to not let his imagination get the best of him before he climbed up and pushed against the hatch.

The light blinded him for a moment and all at once there everything was so loud. There were people everywhere and they all turned to look at him as he crawled up and out.
They were all wearing hazmat suits and suddenly they were swarming him, asking him about worms and shouting about tests and contamination and quarantine and through it all he kept asking about the others but no one was answering him.
By the time he had been thoroughly checked for parasites and given a clear bill of health from the doctors he was exhausted and still not sure if he should mention Gertrude’s body.
Obviously he should but he wanted to know what had happened to Jon and Tim and if he said something now he’d only be bombarded with more questions.

Eventually he saw Elias and almost cried with relief.

“Mr. Bouchard!” he stood from where he was sitting. After being dismissed by the medical personnel and the people from the ECDC he had retreated to the hall leading to the archives to get away from the lingering CO2 and the thousands of dead worms.

“Martin.” Elias walked his way. “I had heard they found you but I’ve been preoccupied so I couldn’t come see you before now.”

Martin shook his head impatiently. “Yes yes it’s fine, it’s fine. What about everyone else?”

Elias opened his mouth, then paused before actually speaking. “Tim is in quarantine while he gets treatment. He had wounds from the parasites and inhaled a lot of carbon dioxide, but he was conscious when the paramedics arrived and it sounds like his wounds are superficial.”
Elias’ brow furrowed a little before he continued. “Sasha and Jon are still unaccounted for. Sasha came and found me to get the fire suppressant system to turn on, but we were separated and Tim said he lost track of you and Jon while in the tunnels.”

“They- They aren’t-?”

“We don’t know.” Elias said hastily. “They haven’t found bodies.”

Martin slumped down on to the bench he had been sitting on as he processed the new information.

Elias turned to leave and wild desperation ran through Martin. “Mr. Bouchard, wait!” he was on his feet now as the Institute’s head turned back to him.
“I-I found a body.” He swallowed thickly. “In the tunnels.” As soon as the words had left his mouth he felt like he had made a mistake.

Elias Bouchard gazed at him with steady and calculating eyes.
“I understand. You must be in shock. I’ll call the police.”

Then he left and Martin could do nothing but wonder if telling him had been the right thing to do.

~

Tim was about three bandages away from looking like a mummy, but he was up and walking and most importantly for Martin, he was talking.

“Tim! Tim!” Martin waved at his friend as he exited quarantine.

“Marto!” Tim’s face lit up upon seeing him, clearly delighted that at least one other person had made it through the ordeal alive.

“Thank god, for a while there I thought I might be the last man standing.” Neither of them could resist a hug and the conversation was paused until Tim winced and pulled away.

“Ugh, turns out being eaten alive by spooky spaghetti is kinda painful.”

“No shit.”

They sat on one of the Institute's hallway benches.

“They still haven’t found Sasha or Jon.” Martin tried to hide the crack in his voice but failed miserably.

Tim groaned. “Damn it.” he turned to the larger man before continuing. “I was with Jon right up until Prentiss bit the big one.”

Martin looked at him sharply. “I thought-”

“Yeah, I made up the bit about getting separated in the tunnels. We were crawling into the archives through a trapdoor, barely able to move from carbon dioxide inhalation and eat up as all hell, but when Elias started calling down the stairs Jon panicked and bolted. Lost track of him. Don’t know if he went back into the tunnels or somewhere else in the Institute. I think being all gassed up like we were made his paranoia spike. Told Elias we got separated cuz I didn’t know what else to say.” Tim slumped against the wall. “Didn’t want to out him for the whole cat thing but I don’t know what happened to him.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted from Martin. “But he’s alive.”

“Alive and looking like swiss cheese.”

“And Sasha?”

“Don’t know. Elias was the last person that saw her.”

Martin checked each way down the hall before he spoke again.

“I found a body in the tunnels.”

Tim perked up a little in interest.

“It was Gertrude.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you told Elias yet?”

“Yes, but…. I felt like Jon should be the first to know.” Martin’s hands were sweaty so he rubbed them against his trousers as he spoke, but jumped a little when Tim responded loudly.

“Well, yeah, but we don’t know where he is and someone had to be told.”

“I know, it’s just…. She was shot.”

Tim stiffened. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Jon’s gonna be a wreck.”

“Yeah…..”.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, just sat there listening to each other breathe and the muffled sounds of the EDCD and the fire brigade clearing out the archives below.
Tim was so tired he seemed about to slide off of the bench, his eyes drooping and head bobbing.
“You need to go home and get some sleep.”

“But they haven’t found Sasha yet.”

“No……”

He didn’t press the matter, instead they sat there together and waited for news about the people they loved.

~

Martin was awakened by a soft vibration that ran through the pillow his head was resting on. He rolled over and winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder from sleeping in an awkward position on Tim’s couch.

They hadn’t left the Institute until after midnight because Tim hadn’t wanted to leave without knowing what had happened to Sasha, but in the end the police, fire brigade and the hazmat team hadn’t found her and he had talked Tim into going home to sleep.
So now he was on his coworker’s couch for the night and his phone was vibrating next to his head. He fumbled for it and was blinded by the light from the screen for a moment.

It was an unknown number calling him, so it could be literally anyone.

There was a chance it was either Sasha or Jon as they hadn’t been able to find any trace of Sasha and any attempts to call her had been disconnected, and Tim had found Jon’s phone in document storage and it was currently sitting on his kitchen counter.

Martin answered, careful to keep his voice down and not wake Tim.
“‘Ello?”

“Martin.”

Jon.

Hearing the familiar voice sent a shudder down Martin’s spine and he sat bolt upright immediately.

“Jon!” He whisper-yelled into the phone. “Wha- What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m alright.” Jon sounded tired and he paused for far too long before speaking again.

“I tried calling Sasha but the call kept disconnecting after one ring.”

“Yeah, uh. Sasha is missing. You too technically.”

“Oh.” Jon’s voice was so faint Martin had to concentrate to discern the words. “How’s Tim?”

“Worried sick about Sasha. And you, but he hates not having any idea what happened to her.”

“We don’t know anything?” His boss’ voice was a low rumble laced with weariness that made Martin wish they were in person so he could hug the other man.

“Everyone had evacuated the Institute when the fire alarm went off except for us in the archives, Sasha, Elias and I guess one guy that got confused and hid in artifact storage, but Elias and Sasha got separated and no one has seen her since.”

There was a contemplative humm from the other end of the phone as Jon processed the information.
When he didn’t say anything else for a few seconds, Martin decided to try and figure out what happened.
“Jon, are you okay? Where did you go?”

“Ah, yes.” again he paused for what felt like hours. “All of the CO2 had me confused. I- I panicked and just ran. Got out of the Institute somehow, it’s a bit of a blurr, but I managed to get somewhere I could take some time and lick my wounds." There was another pause before he spoke again. “Not literally.”

“But wh-”

“What about you? Martin, are you okay?”

Martin’s mouth went dry with the memory of what he had found.
“I’m- I’m fine. I’m fine. Didn’t even get bit by any worms.”

“Good.” He could hear Jon breathing through the phone. “We’ll talk again soon.”

The call ended.

Martin looked at the now dark screen of his phone and felt his whole body shake with emotion.
When he finally managed to cry, he was careful to be quiet and not wake Tim.

Chapter Text

Martin lingered at the top of the stairs leading back to the archives.

Today was Jon’s first official day back to work and it would be the first time Martin had seen him since Prentiss’ attack. Tim was still on leave and probably would be for some time. The fact that Sasha was still missing was taking its toll on him.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever he was about to walk into. He hadn’t spoken to Jon since their brief phone call when he had been staying the night with Tim, but he had heard that Jon’s official story was that he had found an exit in the tunnels, gotten medical attention elsewhere and called Elias with a borrowed phone to discuss what had happened. Martin had no idea how true this story was, particularly the bit about him getting medical attention, but it meant that Jon had learned about Gertrude from Elias and he could only imagine how he was coping with the news.

The tape he had taken from the boxes of cassettes when he had found the corpse was tucked into his coat pocket. He hadn’t listened to it yet, still debating if he should let Jon be the first one or if he should screen it for something horrible and traumatizing.
The decision might be made for him depending on how this meeting went.

After a painfully long moment of mental preparation, he descended to the archives.

Martin had returned to work last week on his own and the bullpen looked exactly the same as it had when he had left it, except the door to Jon’s office was closed.
He paced back and forth for a few minutes while wringing his hands nervously before making the decision to make some tea and try to talk to his boss.
When he finally had the cup in one hand and the other was hovering over the wood ready to knock, he had to stomp down his rising anxiety before he could go any further.

After what felt like an eternity, his knuckles struck the door and he waited for a response.

One second passed, then two, then three.

Martin had to swap the mug with tea to his other hand so that he could wipe the sweat off of his palms.

The seconds continued to pass and there was no noise from the office.
He considered knocking again but instead he decided to just go in.

“Jon?” He cracked the door and peered inside. He could see the edge of his boss’ desk and the rest of the office, but not the man himself so he opened it further.
Jon was sitting behind his desk, cat ears uncovered and his face buried in some papers he was reading over, but he didn’t acknowledge Martin at all. He had some bandages on his face and arms still and deep eye bags.

“I brought you tea.” He moved closer to the desk so he could set the mug down.

One of Jon’s ears twitched when he spoke so he was sure he was heard, but the other man didn’t otherwise acknowledge his presence.

“I’ll just set it here.”

He placed it on the desk and his heart sank when he noticed the way Jon turned his head ever so slightly to avoid looking at him when he was so close.
Martin took a few steps back and picked at his nails nervously while he worked up the courage to speak again.
“Are you okay?”

Jon didn’t answer.

Martin took a deep breath and tried again.
“I’ve been worried. I know you got your phone back from Tim but you haven’t responded to any of my texts….. I-I know…. I want t-”

Jon slammed his hands down on the desk and Martin startled at the loud and sudden noise.
“They took her!” He hissed. Jonathan Sims finally looked at him, his bright green eyes glistening with tears.
“I didn’t even get to see her! They took her and cremated her and I don’t even get any remains!”

Martin stood still and stayed quiet. Jon needed to get this out, to say what he was feeling and it would help if he had someone to tell it to. Or take it out on as may be the case.

“They even took the chair she was sitting on!” Jon was standing now and Martin could see his tail moving under his skirt as he continued.
“And the tapes….. There were so many and they took them all! Now I might never…..” His nails dug into the wood of his desk leaving scratches. “I might never hear her voice again.”

Was now the time? Should he give Jon the tape? Would it make this better or worse?
If he didn’t hand it over right then he knew that Jon would rip him apart for withholding it, but if the tape happened to have something horrible on it it could ruin Jon to hear it in his current state.
Martin made up his mind right then and there, he was going to listen to the tape himself first, for Jon’s sake. His boss wouldn’t like it, but Martin would take whatever punishment he could dish out if it meant sparing him something unbearably painful.

“And you……” Jon’s voice was laced with fury, “You told Elias and he had them take her away.”

Martin opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to apologize or defend himself, but the guilt he had been feeling ever since the attack choked him.

“And Sasha.” Jon looked away. “She’s gone. I swore I wasn’t going to lose anyone but she’s gone and-” He made noise that was something between a wail and a growl, but Martin could interpret it well enough.

As they lapsed back into silence, Martin managed to find his voice. “Jon, I- I’m so, so sorry.”

“I don’t want to see you right now.”

The words felt a little like he was being stabbed, but Martin just nodded and honored the other’s wish by leaving.

~

Water: check.

Heavy duty torch and back up batteries: check.

Snacks: check.

First aid kit: check.

Chalk: check.

Recorder: check.

Watch: check.

Butcher’s cleaver: check.

Jon finished packing his duffle bag with his supplies and zipped it up.
This time he wasn’t going to leave the tunnels until he had something to show for it.

He had done one expedition into them already but he hadn’t found anything helpful and had mostly wandered in circles before his light had failed and he was at risk of getting hopelessly lost.

Tonight was going to be different, tonight he was going to find something.

The last month of sitting at home while he had recovered had been agonizing, in the physical and emotional sense, but it had given him time to think.

His mother had been murdered, not by a creature with claws or mind shattering powers, no, she had been murdered by someone with a gun in her own office. By someone at the Institute.

Sasha was also missing, possibly dead, or possibly on the run.
Right now he had the horrible suspicion that she had killed Gertrude. It would make sense, Sasha was the only one to have known her and she was most likely to have gotten her position after she had died. She also went missing the same day that they had found his mother’s body which wasn’t helping her case.

But Sasha wasn’t the only person he was suspicious of, Martin’s behavior was starting to make more sense given recent developments.
He had been nosy and strange ever since they’d first met. He’d been transferred to the archives without warning, attracted Prentiss which gave him an excuse to live in the archives, which he did without complaint, and Jon was fairly certain the man had gone through his desk on more than one occasion. He’d also found the body, which was another issue altogether.

Elias was inherently suspicious, as someone touched by the supernatural and head of the Institute, but Jon couldn’t figure out how he could possibly have a motive.

Tim didn’t seem like the sort to have done it, but at this point he couldn’t rule anyone or anything out. What he needed was either proof, or just some sort of additional information, and that’s what he was hoping to find in the tunnels.

It was late by the time he got back to the archives. Martin had been fussy ever since he had returned to work and Jon found himself finding any excuse to avoid him, especially since his assistant was dead set on making sure he wasn’t doing anything ‘self destructive’ as he put it.

Jon had found himself thinking of Martin in tandem with works like ‘Oaf’ and ‘Useless’ again since he had stopped doing so months before the Prentiss incident. It was unkind and possibly unfair, but there was the chance that he had murdered his mother so he wasn’t beating himself up for it.

The jar of ashes in one of his desk drawers Martin had given him was supposed to bring him some peace of mind, but instead it was just making Jon more agitated and he wondered if maybe that had been the secret intent all along.

He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he neared the trap door. He probably wouldn’t have been able to find it again if it weren’t for the lingering scent of unnatural rot that still clung to it from having the Flesh Hive die so near to it.
The key he had stolen from Elias’ office in one hand and the other gripping his knife, he knelt to unlock it.
He was wearing trousers so that his tail could move freely and he hadn’t bothered covering his ears, he was going to want all of his senses unencumbered for this.

At long last, he felt ready and heaved the hatch open. He was hit by a wave of stale air that stank of lingering decay.

He turned his torch on and began the descent.

Unlike his previous ventures into these tunnels, he had some modicum of prior knowledge to work with, and wasn’t so inclined to try and wrench open locked doors or jump every time he heard old pipes groaning in the walls.

The place was a goddamn maze, and he couldn’t help but wonder at how any of them had run around down here and made it out during Prentiss’ attack.
Still, if these tunnels lead to other parts of the Institute and not just the archives, that could explain where Sasha had disappeared to.

Jon was trying to figure out how to insert himself into the police investigation, but it was a work in progress so for now he was doing what little he could on his own.

He continued through the tunnels, marking his way with chalk and trying to memorize any notable features of the place. Unique bits of garbage, notable doors or stones, those sorts of things he could look at if his arrows failed him.
He checked the time frequently and looked behind him constantly, partially to get a feel for what the tunnels would look like on his return, and partially because he kept expecting someone or something to jump out at him.
Jon looked through empty rooms and warped corridors, he went down stairs and halls that slanted upward. He drew markings on the walls and would pause to listen for anything moving in the tunnels with him at times.

He paused to drink some more water and eat something while he checked the time. It was nearing three AM and he had started before eleven.

He cracked his back and stretched, tail lazily swaying all the while.

The human back was rather poorly built and he bemoaned the loss of his former body often. His scoliosis didn’t help; Just another struggle bestowed upon him by his transformation.
Even what little he had retained wasn’t the same, especially his claws. He had been growing them out, but he could no longer retract them so he had to simply be careful how he used them and during his leave he had bought a scratching post to use at home.
They also weren’t as useful for defense as they had been before, his hands just weren’t made for the same things his paws had been.

After his little break was over he got out the chalk to make another arrow when he realized the wall was different, it was closer. He backed up and after only a step or two his back hit another wall. Looking from side to side he could see that the passageway he had been going down was now a dead end, whereas it had been long and sprawled off into darkness mere moments ago.

He felt the familiar sensation of something supernatural pricking his skin and he quickly traded his chalk for the knife as he retreated to where the tunnel was still its regular size.
He let a growl escape his throat as his eyes darted around for any clues as to what was happening and his tail puffed up.

A single word echoed through the passage.

“Leave.”

Jon really didn’t need to be told twice, everything in him was screaming to run, but he was there on a mission so he managed to shout a demand back at the mystery voice.

“Tell me who you are!”

There was no response except the shifting of the wall that was growing ever closer and the sliver of bravado he had been clinging to left him all at once.
Jon spirited away, bag clutched to his side and the knife he had in his hand carefully pressed into its fabric.

As embarrassing as it was, Jon scampered back through the tunnels and up into the archives, slamming the hatch shut and locking it.
He took a moment to catch his breath before the sound of movement behind him made him whirl around, brandishing the cleaver at whatever was in the archives with him.

Martin screamed, which only made Jon even jumpier, but luckily for both of them he jumped back instead of toward his screaming assistant.

“Martin!” he yelled. “What are you doing here?!?”

“Me??? What are you doing here???”

“That’s none of your business!”

“You’re brandishing a knife at me!”

“You snuck up on me!”

“I was standing still!” Martin had raised his hands in surrender when Jon started pointing the knife at him but was now using them to punctuate his defenses.
Jon still hadn’t put the cleaver down, the adrenaline pumping through him muddling his mind.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here!” Jon was gripping the cleaver with both hands as he pointed it at the other man.

Martin seemed to calm down enough to think first as he raised his hands placatingly again. “Look, I was out and I saw you coming back to the Institute late at night so I came to check on you, but you were already in the tunnels when I got in here. So I’ve been waiting for you to come back because I’m really worried about you.”

“Well don’t be.” It was all he could think of as a retort.

“Look at you! Your tail is about as big as the rest of you right now and you’re swinging a cleaver around in the dark! How could I not worry?”

Enough time had passed that Jon could now think somewhat and it dawned on him just how ridiculous he was being. He lowered the knife but didn’t drop it.
“I’m exploring the tunnels, and I needed something for protection down there.”

Usually Martin would try closing the distance at this point in the conversation, but there was still a butcher’s cleaver in play so he stayed put. “Look, Jon. Tunnels aside, you’re clearly not doing well. You’re still recovering and in distress and you’re going to get hurt, worse than you already are if you’re wandering around the creepy tunnels in the middle of the night.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. Martin really didn’t want him investigating under the Institute which was very suspicious.
“Whatever. Let’s just forget about it.” He moved to get his bag and thankfully Martin backed up to keep the distance between them.

His assistant didn’t say anything else as he gathered his things, tucked his tail under his coat, covered his ears and left the archives, but it was impossible to miss his disapproving expression.

Jon was now almost sure that the other man had something to hide. Why was Martin even working at the Magnus Institute? Tim had mentioned having lost his brother to the paranormal and Sasha had been an academic through and through that needed the job, but Martin was a mystery, a very sinister mystery. He really didn’t know much about Martin at all, and he would need to change that if he was going to figure out what he was really doing in the archives.

As he walked home through the late August night air of London, he made mental notes on what little he knew and what he needed to know more about.

There was someone or something in the tunnels which only complicated everything.

He needed to learn more about Martin and to figure out what happened to Sasha.

He needed to track down and talk to the one other person that had been in the building after the fire alarm went off.
He apparently worked in artifact storage. What was his name? Jon had heard it from someone but he was having trouble remembering. Mitch? Matthew? Something like that.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to investigate Martin, but he’d have to figure something out.

No matter what, Jon was going to solve the mystery of his mother’s murder, and whoever was responsible was going to regret it.

Chapter Text

Martin paced back and forth impatiently while he waited for Tim to pick up his phone.
“Come on, come on, pick up your phone Timothy.” He tapped his foot while it continued to ring. He was sure it was going to go to voicemail when he finally heard it click and a weary voice reached him.

“Hey.”

“Tim! Thank goodness, I need to talk to you about something important.”

“I’m alright, how about you Martin?”

“Oh, um. Sorry, that was pretty rude, huh?”

He could hear Tim sigh on the other end. “Don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“It’s Jon.”

Another sigh. “Figures. Let me guess, he’s a jumpy wreck.”

“Yes, and it’s bad. He’s been exploring the tunnels on his own at night and every time I try to talk about it he gets really hostile. He’s only making himself more upset.”
Martin had been pacing the entire time he had been talking to Tim, raking his free hand through his hair and chewing his lip when not speaking.

“Look, Marto.” he could practically see his friend rubbing his eyes on the other end of the line. “I don’t know if there’s much we can do about Jon freaking out and I’m not going back to work until I absolutely have to.”

“But you are coming back to work, right?”

There was a long pause and Martin thought the call might have disconnected. “Tim? Tim, are you there?”

“Yeah, still here.”

“Well, are you coming back to work?”

When Tim spoke his voice was so quiet that Martin had to strain to make out the words. “Yeah, I’ll be back.”

“Okay, then that brings me to the real reason I called.”

“Hmmm?”

“I have one of Gertrude’s tapes.”

“You what?” Tim suddenly sounded much more alert and invested.

“I took it when I found the body, but I haven’t listened to it yet, and before you ask I haven’t told Jon about it yet.”

“Fuck, Martin. Why haven’t you told Jon?”

“I don’t know what’s on it! What if it's her getting shot or something horrible! If he hears something like that in his current state it’s going to ruin him.”

“I guess……” Tim sounded contemplative.

“So I still need to listen to it…. But I wanted to ask you to listen to it with me.”

“Why?”

Martin pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes in frustration.
“Because I’m tired of being alone.”

There was a long pause, and then the voice returned.
“Okay. When?”

“I have to get a recorder from work to play it, so how about a day next week? Tuesday?”

“Tuesday at seven, you can come to my place, I don’t want to go out.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

~

Martin wished he could enjoy seeing Jon confidently walking around the archives with his tail and ears out, but his boss was so obviously on edge being alone with him that he could derive no pleasure from it.

Jon had been back to work for a few weeks at this point, and his behavior would swing wildly between seemingly normal and being aggressively suspicious of him. It didn’t help that it was just the two of them. He really wished Tim or Sasha were there to break the silence or help get Jon’s head out of his ass. Martin tried to be as kind and attentive as Jon would allow him to be, but he had noticed that his boss tended to squint at him a lot.
He got the feeling that the only real way he was going to make any progress was by giving Jon that tape, so when Tuesday finally arrived he was almost light headed with anticipation.

When it neared the end of the work day he knocked on the office door and let himself in when he heard Jon call for him. He didn’t fully enter the room, instead he just lingered on the threshold so that he could speak with his boss.
“Do you mind if I take off a few minutes early today?”

One of Jon’s ears swiveled in his direction before those brilliant green eyes were looking him up and down. “Uh, no. Go ahead.” Jon had an inquisitive look on his face but hadn’t pried yet so Martin decided to leave before he got the chance.

“Great! Thanks! Don’t forget to eat some dinner.”

“Right.” Jon didn’t blink once.

Martin quickly made his exit, one of the recorders already hidden in his coat pocket.

Tim’s flat wasn’t far from the Institute so it always surprised Martin that he chose to drive to work more often than not. Still since he had a car it made sense that he’d want to get use out of it.
When he arrived at his friend’s flat and they were seated in Tim’s living room with a cup of tea each, Martin produced the recorder and the tape.

“Well,” Nerves were making his hand shake a little as he inserted the tape and his finger hovered over the play button. “Here goes.”

Tim had crossed his arms and leaned back in the arm chair he was sitting in. He still had some bandages on some parts of his body that experienced more friction or strain, and his uncovered wounds were beginning to scar just like Jon’s. Worse than that, he looked very tired. Despite how much time off he’d had, it looked like he wasn’t sleeping much, just like Jon.

Martin forced himself to hit play and he held his breath as the wheels began to turn and the slight sound of static came from the player.

“Case 010226, Elanor Lowel, incident occurred in Lindenw-” Gertrude’s voice crackled through the air before the audio hiccupped as the tape jumped it’s reels and began to unwind itself.

“Oh no! No no no no no!” Martin lunged from where he sat to stop the recorder in the hopes of saving the poor cassette. Tim had sat up and was watching him extract the tape with a pinched expression.
The tape had unwound itself somewhat, but Martin was hopeful that it could be salvaged.

“Tim, do you have a screwdriver, or, or something that-”

“Yeah, yup.” Tim was already up and rummaging through a drawer in his kitchen. He soon produced a screwdriver and handed it to Martin.

He paused with the tip of the tool hovering over the reel of the tape as he gathered his courage. Finally, he ever so carefully and slowly wound the tape back to the reels, and after letting it sit while he steadied his nerves, he reinserted it and pressed play.

-oods, September 2013, Statement given 26th of February 2014. Committed to tape 17th of March, 2014. Gertrude Robinson recording.”

The tape resumed right where it had left off. Gertrude sounded how one would expect an old woman to, but hearing her voice at long last made Martin’s throat tighten with emotion. He wasn’t sure why, she wasn’t his mother, she wasn’t anything to him.
As the tape continued to play without issues and Gertrude’s voice told the story, it occurred to him that she and Jon had a similar way of reading statements; they seemed to forget they were just recording the account and got incredibly invested in the narrative, doing voices and everything.

The statement itself wasn’t anything too horrible. It was about a lady finding an unidentified animal that ended up abusing and isolating her.
The only thing about it that he was worried about Jon hearing was that at the end the lady, Elanor, returned the creature to the filthy well where she had found it, and given Jon’s history it might be painful for him to hear such an account in Gertrude’s voice.
Although, at the core of it it wasn’t anything he could justify withholding from his boss.

It was just a statement, and not even a particularly upsetting one.

When the recording ended the two of them sat and pondered what they had just heard before Tim sat up and began to rewind it.

“You should definitely give it to him.”

“Yeah, no reason not to.”

When it was rewound to the beginning and he had it back, Martin looked sadly at it for a while before he heard Tim groan and talk again. “You want me to be there to give it to him, don’t you?”

“Yes please.”

“Fine.” he grumbled. “But I’m not going back to work yet, if you can convince him to meet somewhere else I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Martin stood his whole body suddenly awash with nervous energy. “We’ll- I mean I’ll make a plan and let you know.”

Tim waved goodbye but didn’t get out of the arm chair as Martin left. When he was walking down the hall away from his friend’s flat, it occurred to him that he hadn’t talked to Tim about how he was doing at all. He was a pretty shitty friend now that he thought about it, but going back was too awkward so he decided to just make sure he asked him the next time they saw each other.

~

Martin had left work early which was either a wonderful thing or a very dangerous one.

There were still some of Martin’s things in the spare room from when he had been living there, and while it was a long shot, there was a chance he’d left something of interest.

Jon banged around loudly in his office before grabbing his coat, striding into the bullpen and loudly addressing the space.
“Martin, I’m going home.”

Silence.

“I’m going home on time.”

Still nothing.

Even though he had already checked for him, he had half expected Martin to appear and start fussing over him after such an announcement.

Turns out he really had left for the day. Suspicious.

Jon did a slow sweep of the archives before he was fully convinced that he was alone, and then it was time to get to work.

Once he was in the spare room he wasted no time pulling out the few things Martin had left under the cot and going through them. Some things he dismissed with a glance but there were several notebooks filled with his writing.

Jackpot.

Jon grabbed one and began to pour over it intently. It took him a few pages to realize that it was all poetry.

He grabbed another notebook and flipped through it. More poetry.

Jon had never really liked poems, they seemed useless.

They help express thoughts and feelings, some might try to argue.

So?

Just write those down normally, no need to waste everyone’s time with stanzas and odes.

Despite his lack of interest in the form of the writing, there could be something hidden within the many pages of rambling expressions that would give him more insight into what Martin’s motives were, so he sat and he read.

He read the first notebook front to back, and then the second. By the time he was reaching for the third he was starting to feel rather uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. It really did just seem like a sad single man’s depressing poetry and nothing more. But
he had read much worse things since becoming head archivist and he couldn’t back down now.

Picking up the third one and flipping through it revealed two things instantly. One was that there was a folded piece of paper tucked between the pages, and the other was that one of the pages where he found it was blank except for a title scrawled at the top.

It said Jonathan S.

Martin was writing about him.

He held up the book with his arms extended so he could tilt it this way and that while he considered its meaning.

Why would Martin have a page titled with his name in his book of poems about longing and desire? Was this to throw him off if he were to ever do what he was doing now? Or was it some sort of master manipulation?

Clearly he had underestimated Martin, the man was much more cunning than he could have ever imagined.

Jon carefully laid the book down so that it didn’t close while he inspected the folded piece of paper.

It was a letter addressed to Martin’s mother, and while a lot of it was his day to day in the archives, there was one line where he worried about ‘if the others find out I’ve been lying.’

Jon’s tail swished against the floor as he sat there cross legged and read.
What could that mean? Surely the man wasn’t referring to a murder in a letter to his mother? But maybe it was some sort of sick method of gloating.

Thinking about it was making him start to feel nauseous so he quickly put everything back the way he had found it before scampering back to the bullpen.

Jon paced for a while, trying to wrap his head around what little information of interest he had found, but ultimately there wasn’t anything of any real weight. He’d have to keep looking.

An idea came to him, bursting in his skull like a solar flare of brilliance. He could pretend to be interested in poetry! It would be the perfect way to try and get Martin to talk about the meaning behind his journals and lull him into a false sense of security where he might let something slip.
He was pretty sure he still had some old collections of Keats’ work from Uni that he’d have to dig out and bring to work, but once he did he’d find an opening and get to the bottom of Martin’s strange behavior.

Chapter Text

In the five years Jon had worked at the Magnus Institute he had only gone to artifact storage a couple of times. No one ever wanted to go to artifact storage, it was creepy at best and down right nauseating at worst. Even if you weren’t bothered by the many soulless doll eyes that would stare at you, or the haunting music that was always playing from a source no one could find, you’d probably still would not make it past Andy.

Andy had been the security guard for Artifact Storage for about seven years at this point and he was one of the most unnerving people to have ever set foot on God’s green earth. Jon certainly didn’t like him and he was about 80% of the reason why he avoided the place.

As he approached the doors that hid the Institute’s many relics he mentally prepared himself to talk to the ornery guard.

“Good morning!” He opened with the reliable option but Andy didn’t even look at him.

“Uh, I need to talk to someone who works here.”

Still nothing from Andy except an aura of malice.

“I also work at the Institute if it makes a difference. Jonathan Sims, head archivist.” He held out a hand to shake but Andy didn’t move and didn’t blink. Jon pulled his hand back.

“I need to talk to….” How did he keep forgetting this guy’s name? Was it Mathias? Luckily he had it written down when he had gotten Rosie to tell it to him.

“Um, Michael Shelley. I need to talk to Michael Shelley. He was here when the Institute was evacuated in July.”

Andy raised an eyebrow but his eyes were focused on something in the distance. “Who?”

“Michael Shelley.” Jon frowned. Why is it that no one could seem to remember this man? Jon had been meaning to come down here and talk to him since he had gotten back to work, but everyone he asked either couldn’t seem to remember the man himself or
any details about him.

The security guard shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

“But he works here.”

Another shrug.

“Well, I’m just going to…..” He hurried past the large man who thankfully made no moves to stop him, which was how it should be given his position but Andy had never seemed the sort to make anyone’s life easy.

Once he was actually in artifact storage he bared his teeth and growled a little. The sheer amount of esoteric energy that filled the space was triggering his fight or flight.
He made his way through the area where the small artifacts were kept, the dolls, the books and the other things that could be placed behind glass or in a lock box before approaching the entrance to the larger containment area. He had seen one other person upon entering, a redheaded lady that hadn’t paid him any mind, but still no sign of who he was looking for. Jon wasn’t entirely sure if he would recognize…… Malcolm? - no, Mark? - still not right. He looked back at his note.

Michael!

He wasn’t entirely sure he’d recognize Michael, but as it turned out there was no mistaking him.

He’d barely begun walking around amongst the many cursed objects when he spotted a tall man with long blonde hair notating something on a clipboard. Visually he seemed perfectly normal, but there was just something so deeply and intensely wrong with him.

It wasn’t the stink of rot of the dreaded cold of fog, no it was just an unsettling sort of strangeness that emanated from him.
Despite the shiver running down his spine and the spikes of adrenaline racing through him, Jon still approached the enigmatic man.
“Excuse me.”

Matt- no, Michael looked up from his clipboard and Jon caught a glimmer of fear in the other man’s eyes when he saw him approaching.

“I’m busy.” he said hastily and tried to walk away but he was standing between a wardrobe, a piano and a wall so he just faced solid stone before spinning back around.

“I’ll only be a moment, you’re Michael, right? You were here in artifact storage when, uh, when there was the infestation incident.”

Michael looked like he didn’t want to be caught between the Archivist and a wall so he just squinted at his clipboard to avoid eye contact.
“I was. What does it matter? I've already talked to the police.”

“Well, yes. But I just want a few minutes of your time.”

Michael raised his eyes to meet Jon’s gaze at last, his brilliant blue eyes cloudy with uncertainty.
“Archivist, I'm not yet ready to talk to you.”

“Does that mean you will talk to me?”

“When I’m ready, then perhaps.”

Jon tried to weigh his options. He had him cornered, he could keep pressing until he got some answers, if Michael had any to give, or he could back off in the hope that it would help him win Michael’s trust.
But there was something off about the man standing before him, he kept slipping from his mind and everyone else's it would seem, and the inherent wrongness of his person was making his tail puff up. This wasn’t just about how he could get him to talk, this was also about what the safest course of action was when it came to a clearly unnatural being.

He should back off, play it safe until he could find some other leads or information.

Jon stepped closer. “Michael, Sasha James is missing. If you saw or heard anything that might help me find her I need to know.”

There was a flash of ferocity in Michael’s eyes before the fear settled back into the shifting blue and he curled in on himself somewhat.
“Please do not press me, Archivist.”

“But you do know something.”

“I only know enough to be.”

Jon was opening his mouth to demand what that meant when Michael suddenly moved into his space. The overwhelming sense of wrongness made his head spin just long enough that the tall blonde could pass him and quickly disappeared amongst the relics.

Jon stayed put and just hissed at where he had last seen the odd being before shaking off the lingering effects of his presence.

Michael Shelley knew something about Sasha, maybe everything, but he wasn’t willing to talk yet and Jon got the sense that he was dangerous.
It was time to back off and think about what his next moves were. He didn’t run on his way out of artifact storage, but he certainly didn’t waste any time on his way to the exit.

As he made for the stairs leading to the rest of the Institute he didn’t even mind that Andy was scowling at him.

~

Jon was still mulling over his brief exchange with Michael when Martin waltzed up to his desk with a cup of tea.

“You seem kinda distracted today, everything okay?” His assistant’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up at the other man.

Martin Blackwood. Harmless, bumbling Martin Blackwood; With his grey blue eyes, auburn hair, scruffy beard that he just couldn’t commit to and disarming smile. Jon so desperately wished he’d just disappear, then he wouldn’t have to deal with the cacophony of feelings he evoked in him. The suspicion and fear, the disgust and disdain, the joy and excitement, the regret and guilt. It was all too much and he hated it.

He hated Martin. He hated hating Martin.

His secret was out and Martin didn’t hold it against him, didn’t look at him differently, didn’t use it against him, and yet he was more distrusting of the man than ever.
Worst of all it was just the two of them in the archives every day, with Sasha missing and Tim still off of work so there wasn’t any reprise from his inner turmoil.

Jon broke eye contact and shook his head a little. “‘S fine. Just thinking.”

“Well, maybe a little less thinking is in order and more drinking.” Martin set the mug by the stack of statements Jon was pretending to work on.

“Um, also. I was talking to Tim and we’re planning to meet up tonight and you should come.”

Jon pulled the mug closer to himself, cradling it in his hands and soaking up the warmth through the porcelain.

“I don’t thin-”

“Please!” Martin’s desperate tone caught him off guard and he jerked his head up in shock.

“I-I mean, sorry, I just-” Martin fumbled over his words trying to recover the conversation. “I worry, and I think it would be good for you to go somewhere that isn’t work with friends.”

Friends.

Right.

He really wanted to say no, but this was a prime opportunity to investigate them both. In a casual environment either of them might slip up and say something about Gertrude.

“Fine.” he said with a sigh. “I’ll come along.”

Martin smiled a wide, infuriating smile. “Good! Great. I’ll let Tim know.”

Martin left him alone and he crumpled in his chair before shaking off his turbulent emotions and got back to “working”.

When the end of the work day arrived Martin was waiting for him by the exit, a welcoming smile on his face that made Jon’s insides twist into knots.
He held the door for him and they walked out into the crisp autumn air together. Jon was wearing a skirt and scarf since he had gone to artifact storage earlier and Martin was wearing the jumper Tim had given him for Christmas.

As they walked to Tim’s flat since it wasn’t far from the Institute Jon desperately tried to remember what he had rehearsed in his head for this.
Maybe an opening line about haikus, or Edgar Allen Poe and then a quick but natural shift to talking about Keats.

He cleared his throat a little, looked up at Martin and said the first thing that came to mind. “You know, blue looks nice on you.”

That was not part of the plan.

Martin’s face flushed red. “Oh, thanks! You too! I mean- uh- Green looks good on you! Green’s your color.”

“Uh…..” Jon wasn’t sure where to take the conversation from there but his mouth was still working despite the fact that his brain wasn’t. “Yes well, green…. Leaves are green and the sky is blue.”

What did that have to do with anything? What was he talking about?

“......Yes…..” Martin seemed confused but was still engaging.

“And uh….” Jon had no other ideas, he didn’t know what to say. “Nothing, forget it.”

The evening light was gold and made all of the shadows look darker by comparison as they walked on. The wind whistled between the buildings and sent dead leaves dancing along the pavement, but they didn’t speak.

They had almost reached their destination when Martin broke the silence.
“I’m glad you agreed to come. I know I’ve said it before but I worry about you.”

Jon bristled but didn’t snap, instead he surprised himself by apologizing. “I’m sorry about the knife thing last week.”

“It’s fine, you were frightened and I wasn’t helping.”

There was that kind and understanding demeanor again. Martin was so forgiving, there was no way that’s how he truly felt.

The larger man was still talking. “There’s something Sasha once said about you that I tend to remind myself of when you…. Are kinda mean. She said you’re a good man but you don’t have great decision making skills.”

Jon huffed indignantly. “I have great decision making skills. I do just fine.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call scaring yourself half to death alone in some damp and dingy tunnels in the middle of the night a great decision.”

“I was looking for clues!” Jon wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend his actions but he was.

“Clues.” Martin just nodded but there was a patronizing undertone in the way he said the word.

“Yes, clues.” Jon scowled into the distance as he tried to think of a better comeback.

“I know everything is really bad right now, with Sasha missing and, and with your mum, but getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help.” Martin looked very sad while he spoke and Jon was suddenly very uncomfortable.

“We’re here.” He announced a little too loudly when they arrived at Tim’s building. He hurried inside before Martin had a chance to say anything else, eager to no longer be alone with him.

He was the first one to arrive at Tim’s flat and knocked while Martin caught up to him.

When he answered, Tim was wearing sweatpants and no shirt, his bare chest obscured by gauze in haphazard patches.
Jon wrinkled his nose at the shameless display while Tim leaned against the door frame, donned a flirty expression and wiggled his eyebrows. “Like what you see?”

“Martin, we're leaving.” Jon spun on his heel.

“Stop being such a spoilsport, get on in here.” Tall, brunette and shirtless backed off so that his friends could come into the flat.

Despite his attempt at levity, Tim looked exhausted, and as petty as it was Jon was relieved that he wasn’t the only one suffering.

Martin arrived at the threshold and blushed looking at topless Tim who just jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“I don’t feel like going out after all, how about we hang out here, I’ve got a dart board, beer and leftover pulled pork.”

Jon had gotten over his initial disgust and entered the flat with Martin on his heels.

“So, uh, how are you holding up?” Martin asked Tim while Jon tried to find a clutter free route through the place. Blankets, paper bags, many patterned button up shirts, mail and other such things were strewn all over the floor. It wasn’t dirty, but it was messy.

“I’m still alive.” Tim was pouring beer for himself and Martin and getting water for Jon as he answered.

“I can see that.”

“That’s a relief, haven’t had anyone else to verify it for me in a while.”

Jon had found Tim’s collection of framed photos by the hall and was staring at one of him and Sasha sadly while he listened to their conversation.

“So how's the dungeon?”

“The Archives are fine. They really cleaned up down there, it’s almost like nothing happened.”

“How about Elias Jr.?”

Martin groaned. “In the breakroom fridge. Jump Scares me every time I go get my sandwich.”

“Why is it in the fridge? Who put it there?” Jon asked from down the hall where he had spotted a light reflection dancing on the wall.

“Put it there right before I left for lunch the day of the attack, figured I’d get someone good with it.” Tim raised his voice so it would carry to where Jon was watching the patch of light crawl up and down the plasterboard.

“It’s gotten me plenty, and I keep forgetting to move it.” Martin complained.

“Hey, catboy.” Tim was now standing at the end of the hall watching Jon as he barely resisted the urge to pounce on the dancing light. Jon whipped his head up to meet his eyes.

“Food.” Tim was snickering a little as he gestured back to the kitchen.

Jon flipped his tail indignantly at the mockery of Tim’s tone and followed.

As it turned out, pork worked wonders for putting him in a good mood.

Martin’s lips were pressed together in a thin line while Tim dished out pulled pork sandwiches.
“What is this?”

“Pulled pork, it’s an American thing but it’s fucking delicious.”

Martin worked on his sandwich for a good ten minutes while Jon practically inhaled his.

“Did you even breathe? I’ve never seen a sandwich get so fucked up so fast.” Tim was about half way through his and looking at Jon with something akin to pride.

He didn’t want to explain the complex nature of how a big meaty meal made his cat brain happy, in tandem with the fact that he had mostly been eating tuna out of the tin for the last two weeks, so he just chirped contentedly instead.

Tim froze mid bite and Martin choked on his beer more than normal.

“What was that noise?”

“Hmmm?” Jon’s ears tried to perk up in acknowledgement but he was still wearing a scarf over them.

“That noise.” Tim repeated, “Did you just go Merp?”

“I chirped, it’s not a big deal.”

Martin was very red in the face and staring at his food intensely while Tim grinned.

“It was fucking adorable.”

Jon sat up straighter. “It was not! I am not adorable.”

“You’ve got adorable cat ears!” Tim’s volume had been steadily increasing.

“Oh, and I bet you want to touch them.”

“Yes!”

Jon cringed internally at his own blunder. He was supposed to be doing reconnaissance on these two and and instead he had gotten them interested in his ears.

He sighed and pulled off his scarf so that if he wanted to, his assistant could touch them. Tim took the unspoken invitation and just like when Sasha had pet them he immediately melted, purring and turning his head to better offer his ears. It didn’t even register when his other ear started to be rubbed with a different rhythm or what that might mean.

There were fingers running through his hair and massaging the sensitive nerves in his ears and it was divine.

He heard a soft gasp to his left, (Where Martin was sitting) and the sound of a chair being pushed back to his right (Where Tim was sitting) and then it hit him.
His eyes flew open to the sight of Martin with one hand on his head and Tim crouched next to his chair shaking with stifled laughter.

Jon shoved his own chair back and slapped away Martin’s hand.

“S-sorry!” The large man stammered while his other assistant gasped for breath on the floor.

Jon wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt so embarrassed before in his life. These two were suspects in his murder investigation and he had come undone due to scritches at their hands!

He stood abruptly, hastily wrapped his scarf over his head again and moved to leave.

“Aw, sorry!” Tim called as he recovered from his mirth still under the table.

“Jon, wait!” Martin was also standing and following after him.

He made it to the door, one hand on the handle but stopped because he couldn’t get his tail to stop swinging and he couldn’t go out into public unless he got it under control. His face was burning up and he didn’t want to look at either of them.

Tim was full on laying on the floor while Martin was now by the exit as well.

“Jon, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cross a boundary. It-it’s just-” The redhead took a breath to try again. “There’s something I want to- no, need to give you.”
Tim whimpered something about his sides hurting while Martin took out a small package and offered it to his boss.

Jon’s heart skipped a beat as he looked at what was in the other man’s hand. Even without opening it he could guess at what it was.

“I found this in the tunnels, before the police took everything. I know I should have given it to you right away but- but I was scared of what might be on it and you know I worry about you, so I thought-” He cut off his own rambling with a slight head shake. “Take it.”

Jon took the package, it was wrapped in the same paper as the Christmas gift Martin had given him last year.

He ripped off the paper and opened the little cardboard box underneath, and sure enough, there was a cassette tape.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to slap Martin, to hug him, to fall prone to the floor or run away.

Jon had no idea how to feel about this or what to do, so he just pocketed the tape and left, twitching tail be damned.

Maybe Martin said something else, maybe Tim did, but if so he didn't hear it. He had to go home. No, he had to go to the archives so he could listen to this tape.

He just had to go.

Chapter Text

Jon paused the tape and began to rewind it again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d listened to it at this point, just that it had been a lot.

Life had been a blur since Martin had given it to him, he had come to work, done…… something, work presumably and then gone home and the cycle would repeat. He had texted with Tim a little bit and even spoke with him over the phone since the fiasco at his flat, during which Tim had cried about missing Sasha.

Martin was around, but until Tim’s time off ended next week it was still just the two of them in the archives. He kept bringing Jon tea and food as well as waiting for him to finish work to make sure he was going home at night. He still didn’t trust the man, but

he wasn’t sure what to do next. The tunnels had actively tried to swallow him up once, Michael was a non-human that didn’t want to talk to him and he had too many complex feelings about Tim and Martin to do much about them.

He felt more stuck than ever, so most days he hid in his office, recorded statements and listened to Gertrude’s tape.

He was just about to hit play on it again when an unfamiliar voice rang through the paper filled basement. Since Martin was out doing some field research he had left his office door open and could hear whoever it was loud and clear.
“Hello? Anyone down here?”

Shit.

He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed whoever it was coming down the stairs and he wasn’t covered up. He fumbled through his desk drawers to find his spare clothes, almost tripping as he raced to step into a skirt over his trousers and wrap his head with a scarf.

“Uh, anybody?” They were getting closer so he had to settle for rather shoddy work on his scarf.

“Yes, hello.” he called as he exited the office and looked around.

There was a tall woman standing in the bullpen not ten feet from him. She was wearing a headscarf and her uniform identified her as police.
She looked him up and down and he internally squirmed under the scrutiny. “Are you Jonathan Sims?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Oh, good.” the tall woman turned her attention to something in the bullpen and pointed. “What’s that thing?”

He followed her finger and spotted Elias Jr. who had been moved from the fridge back to Tim’s desk at some point.
“Um, one of my assistants is the owner. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Is it haunted?”

“Not yet.”

The stranger just shrugged a little and turned her attention back to him. “Anyway, I’m here to make a statement.”

“Oh, okay.” He motioned for her to follow him into his office and shut the door behind them.

She followed him but didn’t sit, instead she stood and surveyed the room like she was expecting something to happen.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and offered her a hand to shake. “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist.”

“I figured.” She shook his hand but didn’t offer her own name in return. “We didn’t get to meet before. I was here when they were cleaning up after Prentiss.”

Interesting.

“I-yes. It’s a shame we didn’t get to meet then but I-uh….”

“You were counted as a missing person at the time.” The police woman narrowed her eyes a little. “And as far as I can tell you just turned back up a few days later. Love to hear that story.”

“It- It’s not all that exciting. Found my way out of the tunnels, went to a hospital, called Mr. Bouchard.” He shrugged, hoping she’d just accept the barebones elements of his story.

“Uh-huh.” She looked around the room again. “So, how do I make a statement?”

“Right.” He motioned for her to take a seat as he did the same, then pulled out a tape recorder.

One of her eyebrows crawled up her face. “You guys really like these old cassette recorders, huh?”

“Digital doesn’t work when it comes to paranormal activity.”

Her other eyebrow rose to join the first one. “Is that why all of the photos and videos of ghosts are really blurry so you can’t actually tell if there’s a ghost?”
He nodded, impressed with both how she had caught on so quickly and was taking it at face value.

“So I’m just supposed to talk to you while you record? Is that what we’re doing?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t start talking so he slowly reached over to hit record, and once it was running he did his opening line.

“Statement of-” He had to stop almost immediately because he realized he didn’t know the police woman’s name.

“Basira Hussain.” She supplied.

“-Regarding…..?”

“My career as an officer having been sectioned.”

Jon wished he knew what any of those words meant but the good news was that he’d be finding out soon.

Basira suddenly looked a little less sure of the situation now that their conversation was being caught on tape and she looked around one last time.
“You know, I’m breaking the law by telling you this.”

“I- I don’t know. You came to me.”

Despite the gravity of her confession, she was only a little unsure and Jon got the impression that she was a pretty steadfast person.
Solid was the word that came to mind, like if she were dropped into a hurricane she would plant her feet and weather it with little more than a curious look around.
“Right.” Basira agreed with him rather easily. “I just need to talk to someone about what I’ve seen is all.”

“I understand the feeling.”

“Makes sense. Alright then.”

Then they got into her story, but not before discussing NDAs and the legality of her statement.

As she spoke, Jon felt a rush of hope. As important as it was for him to not be present when the Institute was crawling with police and other first responders, it did mean that he had missed a lot of what had happened that night, and Basira was fairly willing to fill him in on some things.

More than that she revealed that she didn’t have much by way of help or supervision when it came to investigating Gertrude’s murder.
By the end of their meeting she had agreed to smuggle him some of the tapes they had confiscated so that he could listen to them and they could confer on any potential information.

As he walked her to the exit she hummed a little in consideration before speaking.

“Is it just you down here?”

“Currently yes. I have- had three assistants, but Ms. James is missing, Mr. Stoker is still signed off from the incident and Mr. Blackwood is doing follow up research out of office currently.”

“Well good luck.” She gave the archives another look over before stepping out. “This place is weird, hate to be alone down here a lot.”

From someone else he might have taken that as a threat, but she really did just seem like she was making an observation.

~

Jon paced around the bullpen anxiously.

Today was Tim’s first day back and he was debating whether or not to tell him about the tape he’d gotten from Basira. It talked about The Circus of the Other and from what little he knew about Tim’s motives for working at the Magnus Institute it would surely interest him.

But he was still a suspect in his investigation, albeit the lowest on his list but he was still on it.

To add to his worries, someone had gone through his desk.

The drawer with his supplemental tapes had been left more ajar than it was when he had left work the night before.
He had no idea who it might have been. Had Martin come back in the night to spy again? Had Tim come in? Was it someone else at the institute?

He was maddeningly unsure of everyone and everything around him and it was taking its toll.

His turbulent thoughts were interrupted by Tim entering the archives. He made grabby hands at his boss as he approached. “Lemme see them ears, boss boy.”

“Don’t ever say something like that again.” Jon snapped and Tim chuckled.

“I make no promises.” His assistant stretched and cracked his knuckles. “I suspect you’re gonna run me ragged with work, huh?”

“As I should, we’re horribly behind around here.”

“About ten years behind based on what I’ve seen. Not sure why your mum tore the whole place apart and put it back together wrong.”

Jon’s ear twitched and he tilted his head. “What makes you say that?”

“You heard the tape. She was smart, right until the end. Smart enough that someone felt the need to shoot her. No way this was an accident.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It was so obvious now that he considered what he already knew.

He regarded Tim anew as an idea came to him. If he was careful and let Tim in on some of the information he was gathering, he could add valuable perspective or possibly let something slip about himself or the others.

“Um….” He glanced behind the other man towards the stairs, but there was no sign of Martin yet. “Follow me.” he gripped Tim’s wrist and pulled him towards document storage.

“Uh, Okay?”

When they were within the sound proof walls and surrounded by dusty papers he pulled out his recorder and the tape from Basira and looked into Tim’s eyes. “You’ll want to hear this.”

Then he hit play.

Jon had known Tim had some past with circuses and clowns, but he could have never expected the way his expression turned grim and his hands shook either with fear or rage.

When the tape ran out Tim took a shaky breath before speaking. “Where did you get this tape? This isn’t the one Martin had.”

“I got it from a police officer I’ve made a deal with, so we have to keep this between the two of us.”

Tim was clenching and unclenching his fists. “Gertrude knew about the circus.”

Jon nodded.

“It could have been someone from the circus that killed her.”

This time he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it was someone at the Institute.”

Tim just grunted before rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“And here I was thinking things couldn’t get more fucked up. Guess it’s time I told you about my brother.”

Jon quickly changed the tape and hit record.

“Right, Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding my brother’s disappearance.”

Chapter Text

“You’re stupid.” Tim smacked him on the head with a rolled up magazine. 

Jon hissed at his friend in response. “I’m not. I’m playing it safe.”

“You’re being paranoid.” Tim smacked him again. “Martin didn’t kill your mum, the man can’t even kill a spider.”

“He's hiding something. He’s lying to me and I know it.”

The two of them were sitting on the floor deep within the stacks of the archives  and surrounded by documents after ripping the place apart. They were looking for any statements relevant to the circus or Gertrude that may have been stuffed away somewhere strange.

Once again Jon was facing the fact that Tim was a trustworthy friend and that he should have been honest with him years ago. After telling him what had happened to his brother, poor Tim had cried and Jon had done his best to offer comfort. Once they had both come down from their high emotions it had been nice to open up to each other. He felt rather sheepish about the fact that he had ever thought the man could have killed his mother, but he wasn’t about to drop his suspicions about Martin.

“Tim.” he said with as much assertiveness as he could manage without using his bastard voice. “Someone else has been exploring the tunnels and there’s no one else it could be. He’s lying about something, I know he’s gone through my desk in the past and most likely still is, he always acts oddly when he knows I’m watching him and his transfer to the archives without my prior knowledge is inherently suspicious.” 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. I’m telling you he didn’t do it.”

“And I’m telling you we can’t be sure of that.” Jon’s tail swept back and forth on the ground behind him as he sat cross legged and skimmed through statements looking for any that stood out to him. 

Tim sat in front of him doing the same but without the tail.

“You’re shit at investigation.”

“ You’re shit at investigation.” Jon retorted. 

Tim raised the rolled up magazine again and Jon’s ears flattened as he shrank away. He probably would have been smacked again if a voice hadn’t interrupted them.

“Hello? Am I in the right place?”

Tim whipped around, magazine raised high and Jon’s tail fluffed up. There was a woman standing at the end of the aisle looking confused and dazed, her curly hair a mess and pink lipstick ruined by her own anxious habit of chewing her lip. 

“I was told to make a statement. But- but I might be lost. I don’t know-” She looked around in bewilderment.

She had fully looked at Jon and hadn’t so much as done a double take at his ears or tail, rather she seemed completely absorbed in trying to figure out which way she had come from and where she needed to go next.

Tim jumped up off the floor and approached her, which she didn’t notice until he started talking. “You’ve come to the right place! Follow me for a moment and the Archivist will be right with you to take your statement.” He turned back to wink at Jon. “In the meantime, how about some tea or a snack. Do you like gummy worms?”

While his assistant was distracting the woman, Jon hurried around the archives avoiding them while getting to his office.

He quickly donned his scarf and a skirt over his trousers and then gestured to Tim that he was ready. 

His poor assistant wasn’t even talking at that point, he was just listening to her ramble on and on about…… something. He looked pretty lost so Jon figured he would have to come out and rescue his friend. 

“Excuse me, you want to make a statement?”

Her head snapped in his direction, looking surprised that he still existed. “You- do you have paper? A pen? I need to draw it. I can’t- I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Okay,” He held up his hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Just follow me.” He ushered her into his office while introducing himself and shut the door behind them. She immediately turned around and opened the door again, peering out into the archives and making eye contact with Tim. He waved at her. She shut the door and opened it again. Tim waved at her. She shut the door.

“Good.” She said, her voice wavering a little. “This door works.”

“Right…..” Jon hovered by his desk waiting for her to finish and take a seat.

“Um, here is some paper and a pen.”

She finally sat and began to draw. 

A note slid under the door with Tim’s hand writing on it detailing the woman’s name.
“Helen Richardson isn’t it? Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“What?” She jumped a little in the chair when he spoke. 

There was a click and his eyes flickered to the tape recorder that was running already.

“Could you tell me about your experience? How would you describe it?”

Helen looked down at her paper and frowned. “I’ve been trying to draw you a map, but it…. It doesn’t work. Look.” She shoved a piece of paper in his face depicting a mess of lines and zigzags. 

“There were no left turns! None! Look! Look!” She pulled her map back to ponder it again. 

“It just goes right, and then right again but it wasn’t a spiral because you could also go forward…..”

“Miss Richard-”

“Look!” she thrust the paper at him again, eyes brimming with tears and her voice laced with desperation. He sighed and took the paper again. “You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“It just goes and goes and goes…..” Helen was getting lost in the memory again, this time starting a new map on the back of an envelope.

Without thinking he chirped at her, causing her to pause and glance up at him.

“Could you start at the beginning?” He prompted. 

“Um, yes. You see there wasn’t a door, and then there was.”

“Statement of Helen Richardson, regarding a new door. Statement recorded direct from subject, 3rd October 2016. Statement begins.”

She pushed the envelope away as she began in earnest.

“I worked for Wolverton Kendrick. I still do, I suppose. I haven’t officially quit, but I haven’t been back there since this happened. I sell houses. Well appointment family homes for people looking to move a little further out of London. I’ve worked for the agency for eight years now, I’ve done thousands of viewings and this house was no different. At least it wasn’t at first.

That morning I had the usual stream of visitors, bankers, executives, you get the picture. There wasn’t anything amiss until I was waiting for my last viewing of the day.

You must understand, I had been walking around that house for five hours. I had been in every room and opened every cupboard and that door wasn’t there .”

Helen glanced back at the office door suddenly as if she expected it to disappear or change.

Jon chirped at her again and the sound brought her back down to earth a little. She looked at him quizzically but didn’t comment on the sound, just launched back into her story.

“Right, where was I? Oh yes. I was waiting on the last couple that were going to be viewing the house when I heard a sound from upstairs. No one was there, like I said I had been walking around that house for hours and no one was there with me. Still I heard it. Knocking.

At first it was just once or twice so I assumed it was the wind or maybe a bird but it began to become louder and more frequent. 

I should have left, but like I said the house was empty so I didn’t think there was anything to be afraid of. 

I went upstairs. Thinking back on it the stairs seemed longer than before, almost like the house had stretched upwards and away from me. They creaked loudly and they hadn’t been all day.

When I reached the second floor where I heard the knocking, the crying began. Someone was calling for help. It was a woman’s voice and she just kept begging to be let out. She was calling for someone named Micheal.

I looked around for the source of the noise and that’s when I saw it. A yellow door on the landing. It wasn’t there before, it couldn’t have been there before. I had looked at the floor plan, walked all over that house and I’m telling you there wasn’t a door there.

But the crying was getting louder from the other side of it and the knocking had turned to a pounding.

I was so caught up in the fact that someone was calling for help that I didn’t really consider the door before I opened it. 

I expected to see someone on the other side, or if not then just open air, but it was neither of those things. It was just….. Dark.

I couldn’t see anything beyond the threshold.

I think I tried to back up, to leave, but then I heard it click shut and I was on the other side of it in this labyrinth of halls and mirrors.”

As Helen spoke, Jon’s mind rang with the name she had just said.

Michael.  

He had all but forgotten about his conversation with the odd man in artifact storage, just as he seemed to forget anything and everything pertaining to him.

Hearing Helen’s story made his mind race with all of the things it could possibly mean. When she described the corridors she had been trapped in for days something started to click.

He and Sasha had met a thing, the thing that had revealed that CO2 killed Prentiss’ worms, but its name had escaped him until now. In fact he had all but forgotten about the thing.

Michael.

When Helen finished her story she looked into his eyes as if waiting for him to say something.

It might have been his imagination, but her irises seemed to spin ever so slowly.

“Miss Richardson….. We’ll-”
“Do you believe me?” She asked hastily, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

“I- Yes. I believe you.”

She visibly relaxed. “You do? Thank you.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he could tell she really meant it.

“We’ll- We’ll make some inquiries and get back to you if we find anything.”

Helen stood to leave, looking dazed again but less frantic.

However, as she did he felt a sickening sort of strangeness permeated the room. The floor spun under his feet and his eyes wouldn’t focus for a moment.

All of his attention turned to Helen just in time to see her twist the handle on a yellow door.

“Helen, no!” Jon reached for her, his claws snagging on her blazer as she turned her head towards him.

His fingers curled into the fabric and attempted to pull her back, but there was nowhere to pull her back to.

His office was gone, at his back was a mirror and in front of him was a long corridor of swirling colors, sharp angles and stained carpet.

Helen locked eyes with him. Her irises spun faster. She turned back to follow his gaze and screamed.

~

They walked hand in hand for a while, Helen quietly sobbing and Jon shouting in the vain hope that someone might hear.

He had fully abandoned his skirt and scarf in favor of not being encumbered by them since he was well beyond the point of caring if Helen saw.

For her part she didn’t seem to care about his feline traits, she was too distraught about being trapped in the halls again.

When she got particularly distressed he would chirp at her and it would help calm her.

Eventually her tears dried and they walked in silence for an unknown amount of time before she sniffled and spoke. “Jon, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” 

“What-?” She paused and scrubbed at her makeup streaked cheeks. 

“What am I?”

Helen nodded.

“I was a cat. Now I am more man than cat.”

It must have been a satisfactory answer because Helen just squeezed his hand and they walked on.

Time dragged on, or at least they assumed it was as there was no way to tell in the twisting maze of halls.

After the 72nd time that they had passed the painting that showed the impossible corridors folding in on themselves and the 8th time seeing the mirror that showed only their eyes in the reflection he heard it.

Someone was crying. 

Hiccupping sobs echoed through the space and his ears twitched as he tried to decide which way to go to reach the source.

“Hello?” He called loudly and the crying died for a moment before it was replaced by a familiar voice, cracked with emotion and despair.

“Jon?”

“Sasha!”

Jon let go of Helen’s hand as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted louder.

“Sasha, I’m here! Can you tell where my voice is coming from?”

There was no reply.

“Sasha!” He tried again but all that he got in response was the dizzying shift of colors in the wall from hot pink to neon yellow as the ceiling dripped into the floor.

He reached back for Helen’s hand, but all that he found was empty air.

Jon did a full 360 looking for her but Helen Richardson was nowhere to be seen.

He had let go of her hand for only a few seconds, but it had been too long.

“Helen?!?” The mirror on his right showed him without skin.

“Sasha?!?” The floor slid into the wall and he almost tripped on a painting of limes that kept changing into lemons. 

No one answered. 

It was at this point that he really began to panic.

Jon ran.

He ran and he screamed for either Helen or Sasha but only ever got a dead end or an impossible staircase as a result. 

At times he would catch a glimpse of one of them in a mirror, but there was never anyone physically there when he turned to look.

He didn’t even try to keep track of how far he ran or how many times the corridors shifted in new and disorienting ways, no matter what he just kept moving.

Until it appeared. 

All at once every mirror, every painting and every turn led to a long and tangled thing that was weaving its way towards him.

Helen had mentioned it briefly in her statement, a stretched out thing that looked like it wished it had limbs that swirled when it moved, and now it was coming for him.

He looked around frantically, hoping to spot a mirror that didn’t show the monster that was slinking towards him.

He found no such mirror, rather something better. 

A door.

Sturdy and yellow, sharp and foreboding, a yellow door was before him, and everywhere else there was the distorted mass of almost person.

What choice could he make except to go through it?

Jon ran right into his desk, bruising his knee and knocking the wind out of himself in the process. 

He fell on his ass and lay prone as the exhaustion caught up to him. Letting out a pained yowl he eventually rolled over so that he could push up off of the floor.

He was in his office in the archives.

The lights were off and it was quiet, clearly after hours when everyone would be at home.

He managed to rise to his hands and knees, and then slowly to his feet using his desk to support himself. Taking in the scene his office was more or less exactly how he had left it and there was no sign of the yellow door he had just run through.

He leaned against the old wood and panted as the clock by the stairs ticked on.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The stairs groaned and his ears swiveled to better catch the noise.

They creaked again and there was no mistaking the sound of someone coming down to the archives.

Jon briefly wondered who it could be when his skin pricked with an unmistakable sense of wrongness. He limped to the bullpen and there, standing on the threshold was Michael.

“Hello, Archivist.”

His voice was so normal when Jon couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t supposed to be. Or perhaps he was too caught up in the jumbled and perforated memory of a thing with sharp hands.

Jon had to lean against the wall because he felt as though he might collapse from exhaustion. “Michael.” His throat was sore but he wasn’t sure what from. His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth but he continued despite this. “What was that? What did you do?”

The tall blonde shook his head a little, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “That was The Throat of Delusion. That was the place that formed me until recently. I will not tell you much more than that, not yet, but I will say this; It was my attempt to save Sasha James that caused her to be trapped there. An act of friendship gone wrong as opposed to one of malice.”

“But wha-?”

“Shhhhhh.” Michael held a finger over his lips and produced something from his pocket that he set on the desk closest to him. Sasha’s desk.

“I will tell you when I’m ready.”

Then he left, long legs taking him swiftly up the stairs and away from the archives before the Archivist had the chance to press him for answers.

Jon limped and picked up what had been left behind. 

A tape.

He collapsed to the floor again clutching the tape to his chest, claws digging into the thin office carpet.

More time passed as he lay crumpled on the carpet, but here he was sure time actually was passing since he could hear the tick of the clock.

He knew he needed to get up, to drink water to get his bearings, but he was just so tired. Every muscle ached and his head hurt.

He dozed off at some point, curled up on the floor by Sasha’s chair cradling a cassette tape like it was a priceless artifact. 

He woke to the feeling of warm hands gently gripping him and a well known voice calling his name with desperation. 

“Jon! Jon!”

He opened his eyes just a sliver and his headache immediately returned. 

“Tim, get a blanket! Jon, can you sit up?”

Of course he could, what sort of question was that? 

He forced his eyes open the rest of the way revealing Martin’s worried face. With a groan he struggled into a sitting position with the other man’s help. 

Tim appeared in his peripheral, blanket in one hand and glass of water in the other. 

“Drink up boss, you look like you could use some fluids.”

He managed a sip or two but his throat burned when he swallowed. He spoke despite the pain. “Michael. I need to talk to Michael. Where is he?”

“Hold up, hold up.” Tim was shaking his head. “None of that right now.”

Martin had settled next to Jon, one arm snaking around his shoulders to both keep him upright and to offer some cushioning against the hard wood of the desk he had been leaning against. 

“Take another sip, you’re probably dehydrated.” Martin prompted.

He did as he was told numbly.

“We listened to the tape with Miss Richardson’s statement on it. Before that I heard you yelling at her and when I went into your office you were both gone.” Tim moved from kneeling in front of them to sitting on the floor as he spoke. “That was four days ago.”

Jon leaned heavily against Martin, reviling in the soft warmth of his body, too tired to remember his usual grievances with the man.

“I found her.” He mumbled wearily, unfolding his hands to show off the tape Michael had given him.

“I found Sasha.”

Chapter Text

       Click

“Okay Jon. I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening.”

“If you’re still alive after this.”

                                    Footsteps echo

“The worms are on the upper floor.”

“Not as many as down in the archives….. But enough.”

                                     Footsteps echo

“I set the fire alarm off so everyone’s evacuated except me and Elias.”

“I didn’t see any sign of a fire brigade but I haven’t been near a window in a while.”

                                      Footsteps echo

“There was a… I guess you could call it a wave of worms. I got cut off from Elias.”

  “I hope he made it to the fire system, but who knows?”

 “Maybe everyone’s dead already.”

                                       Footsteps echo

“I had to retreat into artifact storage, that should tell you something about how bad it is out there.”

“ God I hate this place. ”

“You know I used to work down here.”

                                      Footsteps echo

“As a practical researcher I had to sleep in the rusted chair, write in the memory book. Stuff like that.”

“I transferred as soon as I could.”

 “I would have quit if I could have afforded it.”

                                      Footsteps echo 

“I don’t know why we keep all of this stuff secret. We could send any skeptic packing with this, but we just keep it locked away.

"I asked Elias about it once. He changed the subject."

"He’s good at that.”

                                           Sniffles

“Sorry, I’m rambling.”
                                               

“No worms though. That’s good.”

                                        Footsteps echo

“Oh, I found that table we were talking about.”

“I don’t see what all of the fuss is about. It’s just an optical illusion. Just a…. a”

                                            Static

“Wait…. Jon. I think there’s someone here.”

                                                       Static 

“Hello? I see you! Show yourself!”

                                                     A door creaks open 

“ S asha J ames.”                            Static

Static               Static                      

 “Michael!”     Static

Static

"C ome q uickly, before it can T ake you.”

“Michael wha-?”

                                           A Scream.  

                                                                   A door closes.

                                                                                                  Static

“Come quickly, before – can Take you.”

“Come quickly-”

“Quickly-?”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”                          

                                                   Footsteps echo

                                                                        Click

Chapter Text

Stiff muscles and a throbbing head.

Sore feet and burning eyes.

A dry mouth and raw throat.

~

Something soft and warm.

Something that smelled faintly of vanilla.

Something that caressed his back and combed through his hair.

~

Jon stretched his whole body, arms reaching over his head and scratching against woolen cushions, claws snagging on the threads, one leg falling from where he lay to hit the floor and his tail waving through the air.
He yawned, fangs fully on display for a few seconds before burying his face into the cushion under him.
He smelled traces of sweat mixed with vanilla and earl grey tea and Martin.

Martin.

All at once he was very much awake, laying on his stomach, propped on his elbows, eyes darting around in panic.

He was on an old couch adorned with a gaudy floral pattern and a slew of throw pillows, there was a small television sat in an entertainment stand along a sizeable amount of board game boxes, a coffee table and an end table where he could see books, tissues, glasses of water and a tin of biscuits.
The walls were bare of photos, but there was a watercolor painting of a farm that hung by the entryway.

The flat he was in was small and homey and utterly foreign to him, but there was enough light creeping through the blinds that it must be the middle of the day.

He sat upright on the couch, his body protesting the movement by making him dizzy for a moment before he stopped to take a few deep breaths, all at once aware of how badly his back hurt.

Jon meant to quietly call for Tim or Martin, but instead he just wailed pathetically.

Soon after he heard the sound of creaking floor boards and who should step into view but Martin Blackwood.

“Jon! You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“I feel achy and confused.”

Martin already had a glass of water in hand and came over to kneel by the couch.
“Tim and I found you on the floor in the archives yesterday coming into work. After you made us wait to listen to the tape you had you basically passed out. I’ve been looking after you while Tim’s been trying to find this Michael guy.”

“He works in artifact storage.” Jon struggled upright and took a sip of the water. “I think.”

Martin sat next to him. “Seems like he’s decided to disappear right after he left you the tape.”

“Mmmm.”

Jon was tired and sore and when Martin sat beside him the cushions dipped with his weight, leaving Jon with the option to shift ever so slightly or to give into gravity and lean against the other man.
It wasn’t even a choice really.
He snuggled into Martin’s jumper instinctively, reveling in the softness and warmth.

“J-Jon.” Martin’s voice sounded a little strangled.

“Hmmm?”

“You, uh- You still seem pretty out of it.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He felt ready to go back to sleep, having drank some water and cuddled up to a soft heat source, but said heat source had other ideas.

“Jon. Jon.” Martin shook him ever so gently.

He chirped in protest at the disturbance and was rewarded by the sound of Martin sighing.

“Alright.”

They settled on the couch as Jon drifted back to sleep.

~

Jon was roused from his deep and restful sleep by someone crawling over him on the couch.

“Don’t.” he hissed as a crushing weight pinned his shins down.

“Shut up and scoot up.” The voice belonged to Tim who was responsible for kicking him in the stomach as he squished himself onto Martin’ couch with him.
Martin himself was no longer there, and it appeared to be the dead of night.

“Tim, what are you doing here?”

“Gonna try and get some sleep, now gimme a pillow.”

After some awkward wiggling they managed to both fit on the couch, each with their heads on different ends and their legs draped over each other.
Despite having one of Tim’s feet on his chest, Jon still managed to doze off.

~

Tim kicked him in the ribs and Jon growled as he attempted to roll away. He only managed to roll off of the couch, partially pulling Tim off with him.

“Hey!” His assistant protested while trying not to slide off any more than he had.

“You kicked me.” Jon mumbled as he tried to detangle himself from their shared blanket.

“You two finally up?” Martin was standing with a steaming cup of tea in hand while watching them struggle.

“Tim kicked me.” Jon complained as he crawled away from the couch.

“I was asleep.” Tim was also fighting to free himself from the blanket.

“Well there’s breakfast. Hope you both like omelets.”

“Bacon?” Jon’s ears perked up hopefully.

“Yup. Bacon too.”

Eventually the three of them were situated around Martin’s little table, plates and mugs taking up the entirety of its surface as they ate.

Some of Jon’s senses had returned to him and he was desperately hoping the memory of snuggling into someone’s lovely soft jumper had just been a dream.
The eggs with cheese, bacon and herbal tea were doing wonders at clearing away the lingering haze in his mind from being lost in those impossible halls for days, but with the alertness came anxiety.

What had happened while he had been gone? What about Michael? How were they going to get Sasha out of there? What about Helen? Could he trust Martin?
While his mind raced with questions, the other two were casually talking.

“I’m surprised you came here last night.”

“You gave me the key and I didn’t think I was gonna be able to work up the energy to leave my flat if I went there first.”

“Fair, fair.”

“Food’s good.”

“Thanks. I don’t cook much but breakfast foods are pretty simple. Glad it turned out well.”

“I’m sorry, what happened? What’s happening?” Jon finally voiced a few of his questions.
Tim and Martin both tensed a little as they had been clearly avoiding the elephant in the room.

“You disappeared for four days. Reappeared in the archives the day before last but were tired as shit. Martin’s been looking after you while I’ve been trying to find the Michael guy you were talking about.” Tim leaned back in his chair as he spoke and Martin nodded along.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut.

Four days.

He briefly wondered what had happened during that time but decided to focus on the here and now.
“Well?”

Tim shook his head. “Fucking vanished. Asked everyone at artifact storage and personally combed the place myself. Almost got into a fist fight with Andy. Went to all of the places Sasha mentioned in her statement about the guy and even Hanwell Cemetery. Nothing.”

Tim’s eyes glimmered with anger and he was clenching and unclenching his fist as he spoke.
For the first time Jon actually paused to really consider how Tim was coping with everything. He had known he was desperately missing Sasha, but it hadn’t dawned on him how the situation and the helplessness would make him angry.

“So what now?” Martin asked, looking expectantly at Jon.

“Um….” He didn’t know. Other than talking to Michael he had no idea how to proceed.

“Was there- did anything happen right before I got back? Warning signs?”

They both shook their heads.

“We just came into work one morning and you were there.”

“You also vanished without a trace.” Tim was shaking his head slightly. “Couldn’t find any sign of how you and Helen left the office. Even got Basira to look.”

Jon’s ears perked up. “Sorry, did you say Basira?”

Martin was looking between the two of them curiously so obviously the name meant nothing to him.

“Yeah, she came round asking about you when you were missing. Told her you were at physical therapy. But she came back the next day and I just-” He threw his hands up in a defeated gesture. “I didn’t know what to do, at that point we had listened to Helen’s statement and still didn’t know where you were so I just told her you had vanished. Let her listen to the tape, take a look around.” Seeing Jon’s mortified expression he continued. “I didn’t mention anything else though, just figured she might be able to help given she’s police and was asking about you.”

“..... Right.” Jon liked Basira well enough, even if they’d only spoken a few times, he just wasn’t too keen on her being more involved than she already was.

“Sorry, who’s Basira?” Martin asked.

“Ah,” At that moment Tim seemed to remember that Basira was breaking the law for Jon and the more people who know the more likely it was that she could get in trouble.

“She’s a friend of Jon’s.”

Martin’s inquisitive look had now shifted to Jon.

“Yeah we, uh- She and I….. We were in a band together.”

Martin had a blank expression and Tim was suddenly back to shoveling food into his mouth.

“.....In Uni.” Jon added, already feeling stupid.

“An old friend from college.” Martin nodded.

“Yes, a- a good friend. Really good. We go way back. Basira’s great. She’s great.” He was doubling down, for better or worse.

“She’s great.” Martin’s tone of voice was perfectly pleasant as he confirmed the statement.

“Yes.” Jon poked what was left of his eggs around his plate, painfully aware of how this could go horribly wrong.

“Anyway,” He turned to Tim who was busy pretending to only see his plate of food. “Did Basira have any, uh, ideas?”

“Not really? Basically she just said, ‘that’s weird’ then left.”

“Hmmm.”

“I do think she wanted to talk to you about something else when she stopped by though, so you should probably reach out to her.”

“I, uh, I will do that.”

Martin wasn’t really eating much at this point, he was just sipping his tea with a far off look in his eyes while Tim eyed their portions since he had finished his own.

Jon pushed his chair back a little. “I, uh, I should get home. Change my clothes and get ready for work and all.”

“Oh, um.” Martin blinked a few times as he came back to reality. “It’s Sunday, actually, so if you want to stay here longer I don’t mind and-and I grabbed your extra clothes from your desk if you want to change.”

“Um….” Jon thought about it. Martin had had ample time to kill or hurt him so it stood to reason that he didn’t intend to do so, and even if he went home he wasn’t even sure what he would do other than mope.
Maybe he was just tired and didn’t want to think about it too much, but he nodded. “Alright.”

Martin looked like he would burst with joy when he agreed to stay a while, all of the former vacancy in his eyes dissipating in an instant.

“Great! Your extra clothes are in the bag there.”

Martin and Tim chatted while Jon excused himself to change. He had several sets of clothes at work and it just so happened that Martin had brought the green dress he hadn’t gotten to wear yet.
It was a very nice dress. Sage green with long sleeves and a simple but flattering shape. The skirt only came to his knees so his tail could clearly be seen with it on. There were a few of his other things in the bag, including his hair brush and some newly bought toothbrushes and toothpaste. Once he was groomed and feeling like a person again he left the bathroom to see if Tim was sticking around.

As it turned out, the table had been cleared off and Martin was setting up some game with a dizzying amount of cards and pieces.
The redhead looked up from what he was doing to smile at Jon when he entered the room, but stiffened and his face flushed red at the sight of his boss.

Jon flicked his tail anxiously upon seeing his assistant's sudden shift in attitude and looked to Tim for help.
Tim was reading a rule book and pointedly not paying attention to them.

“You, uh, that dress looks good on you!” Martin finally choked out, still red in the face.

“Thank you, I suppose.” Jon stiffly approached, unsure what was causing the large man to act so flustered.
At this point Tim had put down the rule book and was failing at concealing his smirk. He knew something that Jon didn’t and that was infuriating.

“What is all of this?” He gestured to the various tiles, tokens and cards Martin was placing on the table.

“Oh, Forbidden Desert. Don’t worry, it’s a pretty simple game.”

It didn’t look simple.

It took them roughly three times the estimated play time to lose their first attempt at the game, since Jon kept asking lore questions such as, “how did we end up stranded in the desert?” and “What’s the name of this ancient civilization we’re excavating?” and “What sort of funding do we have?”, meanwhile Tim kept giving his character an increasingly long backstory even though Martin had explained that he didn’t need one.
Their second attempt was going much better until Tim and Jon got into an in character argument on who was responsible for stranding them in the desert. They decided it must have been Martin and voted to leave him behind despite the poor man’s attempts to explain that wasn’t how the game worked.

After that Martin suggested they play something different.

In the end they played Calico, a strategy game about quilting and cats that Jon simply adored.

After the Archivist’s third win in a row he was actually purring.

“I should try making a quilt someday.” He mused aloud as the last of the game pieces were put away.

“Your final step in becoming a grandma.” Tim teased as he stretched his arms over his head.

“I think bird watching is the final step.” Martin chimed in as he returned to the table.

“I don’t believe Jon doesn’t already watch birds.”

“They’re very entertaining!” Jon wrinkled his nose at the implications of Tim’s statement.

“Yeah! Because cats love watching birds!” Tim pointed a finger at him and Jon growled in annoyance.

“Lots of people like watching birds. I like watching birds.” Martin said.

“You would like watching birds.”

“What does that mean, Tim?”

“Just that you would.”

Jon had stood up to pace and stretch, and as nice as it was to play games and pretend like nothing was wrong, Sasha was still missing along with Helen and he still had no leads on who had killed Gertrude.
He really did need to talk to Basira, see if she could get him any more tapes and possibly ask if she could help with Sasha’s missing person case.
There was so much he had to do and he didn’t know how to do any of it.

They ended up calling it a night and Tim offered Jon a ride home. Martin pestered Jon about getting rest and eating enough right until he was out the door, and even then he sent a few texts.
He and Tim rode in silence most of the way to Jon’s flat, the windows cracked ever so slightly and a heartbreak song faintly playing on the radio.

Tim had a little photo of him and Sasha pinned to his dashboard.

“We’re going to get her back.”

Tim set his jaw and inhaled deeply.

Jon kept speaking. “Trust is something I’ve always struggled with. I owe you and Martin an apology, Martin more so, but…..”

In the photo Tim had his arm around her shoulders and she was leaning her head against him, even though they were about the same height. They were both smiling and the sunlight was silhouetting them with gold.

“I won’t lose anyone. I’ll find a way to get her back.”

The other man’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, tears brimming in his eyes and threatening to spill.

Nothing more was said, not even when the car stopped and Jon got out. Nothing more needed to be said, there was no sense in either of them wasting their breath, now all that was left was to keep moving.

Chapter Text

Martin was pretty sure his old coworkers at the library despised him at this point. At the very least they must groan inwardly when they saw him approaching.
At first he was requesting books that were pretty par for the course. Books on demonology and the occult, and then ones on parasites and worms, many about Robert Smirke and architecture, then books about clowns, and now any and all that could possibly have information on doors, halls and tables.

Trying to explain to a librarian what he meant by ‘spooky doors’ was mortifying at best.

“You know, like a hotel that wants to eat you?”

“Doors but they’re too sharp. Like knives. Knife doors.”

“Have you ever gone to the dentist and gotten turned around when the nurse left you alone in the hall?”

“What about funhouse mirrors? But evil.”

Despite his poor attempts at describing what he was looking for, he still managed to come away with a few books.

As stressful as it was to go to the library and have everyone look at him as if he were a lunatic, it still beat being in the archives where Tim and Jon were actually losing their minds.

Jon was better, all things considered. He wasn’t so jumpy or testy and had even apologized for being so hostile, once he had even tried to strike up conversation about Edgar Allen Poe, but it hadn’t made it past Martin’s confession that he didn’t read Poe.
He was still working too much and sleeping too little and worst of all he was going into the tunnels more and more.
Tim would often go with him, since their winding and disorienting nature wasn’t dissimilar to the halls Sasha was trapped in and he was desperate to do something that might save her and he was as close to an expert on Smirke architecture that they had. Currently Tim was the worse of the two of them. His work as a researcher and assistant was abysmal currently and Jon was keeping him strictly to looking for relevant statements, tunnel exploration, and any Sasha or Michael related research. That meant Martin was the only one doing any follow up for all of the other statements they were working on.

As he was walking back to the archives, books cradled to his chest, he saw someone striding towards the stairs with a staggering amount of confidence. They were tall, and wearing a police officer’s uniform.

Oh. This must be Basira.

Basira noticed him as they reached the top of the stairs at the same time.

“Pardon me,” Martin tried to give her a polite smile. “Do you need to go to the archives?” He was sure he already knew the answer but he had resigned to playing dumb.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Jonathan Sims.” She didn’t smile back at him, but she didn’t look mad or otherwise upset. He got the sense that she wasn’t a very emotive person.

“Right, yes. He’s probably in his office. Follow me, I'll show you in.”
He moved a bit more aggressively than he normally would, but he wasn’t about to let her lead the way into the archives.
It wasn’t because he was jealous of her friendship with Jon, not at all, it was just that he worked here and she didn’t so it was proper for him to go first.

When he had shown her where to find the office he looped through the stacks and then back so he could listen at the door. He wasn’t spying, just making sure everything stayed professional.
He could just make out their voices through the door with his ear hovering over the surface of the wood.

“-it exploded when I tried to put batteries in it.” That was Basira.

“Oh.” Jon sounded concerned, which made Martin’s stomach twist.

“I’ve put in a requisition for a new one, but that’s lost somewhere in the Met and I haven’t had a chance to chase it up. So, no.”

“Well, if you keep bringing them to me–”

“It’s better than nothing, yeah. Anyway, I thought you could try this one next.”

“‘Alexandria’?”

“Hey, at least this one actually has a label. I figured you’re probably into old libraries and stuff so– “

“No, you’re right. Thank you, Basira. Honestly.”

They sounded so casual, so familiar. It made him wonder how he had never heard of her before. Even Tim knew Basira, but he didn’t.

“Yeah. Oh, what’s the name of that helper of yours?”

“Er, Tim?”

“No, the other one. Big guy, red hair.”

“Oh, Martin.”

“That’s it. What’s his deal? Gave me the weirdest look when he was showing me in. Like he smiled but the sort of smile that was more of a test than an actual greeting.”

“Oh, uh. I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“Why not?”

“I, uh, he was asking who you were so I told him we were old friends from Uni.”

“That’s…. I guess it’s better that he thinks something like that.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The revelation that Jon had lied about how he knew Basira felt like a slap to the face. At that point Martin pulled back from the door and retreated to his desk feeling sick to his stomach.
What if they were secretly dating??? Maybe that was it. During Prentiss’ attack Jon had fled the institute, right into the arms of a stoic police woman who had comforted and wooed him in his hour of need.

He slunk behind a row of filing cabinets to sulk and seethe.

It was less than a minute after he stopped listening that Basira left Jon’s office, but it felt like hours. She walked briskly towards the exit, but paused only to cast a glance over her shoulder. Not noticing him peeping from around the cabinets she took something from her coat pocket and set it on the nearest surface before continuing on her way out.

He could hear the stairs creaking as she ascended, and once she was far enough away he stepped out to see what she had left.

It was one of the tape recorders.

Why on earth would she leave it here? There wasn’t a tape in it and it looked just like any of the others.

Before he could ponder it too much he heard Tim shouting for him from somewhere in the stacks and figured he better see to him before worrying more about Basira.

~

Jon pulled his coat a little tighter around himself. The late October air was exceptionally chilly tonight and he had never been a fan of the cold.
They hadn’t talked in length about the plan, only that they were meeting tonight at around midnight by the bus station near the Institute. He didn’t even know if Basira was going to show up.

It was pushing 12:20 when he spotted her striding towards him with unwavering purpose.
“Basira! I’m glad you’re here. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come.”

She was in civilian clothes and tilted her head to one side and then the other, a loud pop sounding each time. “I very nearly didn’t. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so grateful.”

“I still don’t understand why you asked me and not one of your assistants.” They had started walking towards the Institute at this point.

“Well, ah. Tim’s….. He and Sasha are very close so he’s not taking things well and Martin, um…..” Basira’s eyes never strayed from the path before them even as Jon stumbled over his words. “.....Martin tends to panic.”

“Do you think there’s cause to panic?”

“Hopefully no, but there’s a lot of strange things happening and I don’t want to bring someone whose-”

“As jumpy as you?” She interjected.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

She grunted in acknowledgement and they walked the rest of the way to the Institute in silence.

“While we’re here you should give me that other tape back.” Basira said as Jon pulled out his key for the side entrance.

“Oh, uh, of course.”

“Anything useful on it?”

Jon held the door for her so she didn’t get locked out while trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary even with his bandana on.

“Not useful for Gertrude’s case, but there were some very fascinating things in that statement. Gertrude was theorizing that-”

“Jon, Jon.” Basira was shaking her head as she squinted in the dark hall. “If we somehow become proper friends you can tell me all about it, but right now I’m not here to listen to you nerd out about old libraries.”

“Ah, right.” He could only manage to be a little embarrassed. He was usually so guarded around people, especially since Prentiss, but Basira was so nonchalant about everything he sometimes forgot that he barely knew her.

“Don’t forget, I only agreed to do this because there’s something suspicious about this Michael guy and I want another chance to talk to him.”

Jon nodded as he led the way through the Institute. She had told him how she had taken Michael’s statement while investigating Gertrude’s murder and Sasha’s disappearance, but when going over her report later completely forgot about him until her partner Daisy asked about it, and even then she couldn’t remember what was said.

“He’s been hiding out in the tunnels and I’m pretty sure I know where.”

Basira was keeping one hand on the wall to keep from bumping into anything while she followed him, but the dark didn’t impede him at all with his cat eyes.
They made it to the archives and then to the entrance to the tunnels. Elias had taken back the key Jon had stolen, but the joke was on him, he had made a copy by that point already.
They descended and crept through the tunnels in relative silence, each armed with a torch and Jon with a crushing amount of anxiety. He didn’t know if Basira had brought a gun, and was too afraid to ask.

“So where is he?”

Jon jumped when she spoke, which earned him a look that said, ‘really?’

“Uh, up here. There’s a lot of doors that go nowhere in these tunnels or don’t open, but there’s a room behind one up here, I’m pretty sure that’s where he’s been hiding.”

“‘Pretty sure’, so you don’t know for certain?” There was no mistaking the hint of exasperation mixed with warning in her voice. He was really going to be in for it if this was a waste of her time.

“Well, I haven’t gone past that door, but when Tim and I were exploring and I found it…. Well… I have a sort of sixth sense for these things.”

Basira muttered something inaudible but he could guess the meaning based off of her tone.

When they reached the stretch of corridor where the ominous entry was, he felt that tell-tale sense of wrongness wash over him and all of his hair stand on end. He was careful not to let himself growl while in Basira’s presence, nor to lash his tail under his skirt, instead he just subtly hit record on his tape recorder.

The door stood out in more notable ways than just the aura of strangeness around it. It had been painted since Jon had first seen it. It was now a deep purple with a yellow spiral and the laughing crying theater masks painted in red at the center of it. The doorknob had been replaced with a bronze hand, so to open it you’d have to grip the hand palm to palm and twist.
He and Basira paused, taking in the door before looking at each other.

“Should we knock?” He asked her. It was polite to knock after all.

“Like hell.” She gripped the hand and turned it until they heard a click and she pulled it open.

There was no light in the room behind it, save for their torches, and it certainly made crossing the threshold a terrifying ordeal.

Jon jumped back and barely contained a yowl of alarm when Basira shone her light inside.

The room was filled with people.

It took a movement for him to realize that they weren’t real people and rather an assortment of statues and mannequins, some dressed in loud outfits and extravagant hats, while others were unsettlingly bare.
There were mirrors and paintings covering almost every inch of each wall which only furthered the dizzying horror of the figures that lurked in the dark.
Just as he caught sight of movement on the far side of the room, the space was illuminated by Christmas lights that dangled from the ceiling and were wound around the decorations on the walls. Some of them were even flashing.

“Welcome, Archivist.” Michael’s unmistakable voice rang out. “And officer Hussain.”

“Jesus.” Basira grimaced at the overwhelming and unnerving spectacle while Jon had slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from hissing.

Basira shook her head and advanced, crossing the threshold and disappearing from sight as the door swung shut on its own. Startled, Jon grabbed the hand and yanked it open again, relieved that it hadn’t locked itself.
That relief only lasted for a split second when he realized that Basira was no longer in the room with Michael.

“What did you do? Where is she?” Panic and horror started clawing at his mind at the daunting prospect that he’d lost someone else to those wretched halls.

Michael laughed at his distress. The sound was less nauseating than he thought it should be but it was still off putting.
“She’s fine, Archivist. If you’re worried about her being trapped in the halls of madness, don’t be. I can’t send her there, just elsewhere in the tunnels. You know how many doors there are down here, don’t you?”

The strange man advanced through the crowd of unmoving figures until he was in the tunnels with Jon and closed it behind him. “I know you’re a sensitive creature so I won’t subject you to my abode any more than I have.” He smiled a twisted, sharp smile. “For now.” His long blonde hair was down, falling over his shoulders in wild curls and he was wearing several layers of clothes that all had dizzying patterns.

Jon finally let that hiss he’d been fighting escape him. “I-I don’t understand. Why did you send her away?”

“So we could speak in privacy.”

“Who are you??”

“I am a what become who, Archivist.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Jon lashed his tail in frustration while Michael snickered.

“Of course not, I’m not inclined to make sense, but….” the strange man looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “I am changed, more than I thought possible in some ways.”

“I still don’t-” Jon reconsidered what he was about to say. “You said before that you were trying to help Sasha, do you still want to help her?”

Michael finally looked like he was thinking about his answer, his face twitching slightly in compilation. “I…. I think so.” He looked down at his hands, an uncharacteristic look of consideration on his face as he turned his hands over and Jon recalled that in Sasha's statement she had described them as deformed and sharp. They looked normal now, plain almost.

“I have become unknowable, something that should delight me but,” His blue eyes met Jon’s. “Sasha would know me, or at least more than anyone else currently. I was trying to be her friend while still being a question, now I’m an echo wearing a mask.”

Everything he was saying made no sense to Jon, but he didn’t seem hostile and he was talking so he was inclined to let him continue.
“I have no intention of leaving her there so that the Distortion might consume her.” Michael was shaking his head slightly.

“The Distortion? Is that what that place is called?” Jon asked.

“That place is the Distortion, as I was when I was part of it. Or when Michael was part of it.”

“But what is-?”

Michael cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I will say no more of it, as changed as I am it is still part of me, and to reveal goes against my nature.”

“But why did you contact her in the first place? Why did you warn us about Prentiss?”

“This place upholds the balance, I did not want it to fall so soon, but I hadn’t anticipated wanting to help as much as I did.” Michael tilted his head to the side so sharply Jon thought it must hurt. “I will say no more about myself, only that I will help you save
Sasha James, but only if you prove to me that you are better than she was.”

“She?” Jon could guess as to who the strange man was referring to, but he needed to hear it.

“Why, Gertrude Robinson of course. She’s the reason we’re both in this mess.”

“Better than her how? Better at archiving? Surviving? What-?” As Jon bombarded him with questions, Michael shook his head, blonde curls bouncing and swaying chaotically as he retreated back into his room. “You must learn more for yourself from here on,
Archivist.”

“Wait-!” the door shut and once again Jon was throwing it open to pursue. It clicked shut behind him and he was standing in a completely different part of the tunnels, a plain, charred wooden door behind him.

He aimed his torch up and down the tunnels trying to figure out where he was when a new light source appeared along with a voice. “Jon?”

“Basira!”

He moved towards her feeling his eyes prick with tears of relief knowing that she really hadn’t been thrown into the Distortion as Michael called it.

“What happened?” She asked once they were close enough that they didn’t need to shout.

“I’m sorry.” He gasped. It was the only thing he could think to say.

“What?” Even in the dim and awkward lighting of their torches he could see her blink in confusion.

“I dragged you into this not knowing what he could do. What if he had sent you to the halls of madness? It would have been my fault. I-” They barely knew each other, he wasn’t even sure if they counted as friends, but he wasn’t losing anyone else.

“Died in the line of duty.”

“You’re obviously freaking out about this.” Basira grabbed him just above the elbow, firm but not rough. “Let’s just get out of here, talking to this Michael guy isn’t worth it.”

“I did talk to him, at least a little. I have it on tape.”

She nodded. “Good. Alright then, how do we get out of here?”

“Yes, uh, this way.” He pulled ahead a little so he could lead the way out.

Chapter Text

Click 

“Supplemental recording of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. 

Recording 20th October 2016.

Since Prentiss’ attack on the archives and the discovery of Gertrude’s body in the tunnels underneath, everything in my life has come under question. My mind has been plagued with crippling paranoia and my body exhaustion. 

I took the position of head archivist so I could continue to do research, and not just on current cases, but all of the ones the Institute has to offer. I had hoped that somewhere in the backlog of files there would be clues as to what happened to my mother. And I was right.

But being right doesn’t change the fact that I was too late.

There’s more than just her death weighing on me now. There are monsters out there that want me and my- my friends dead, Sasha is missing and I don’t know who I can trust.

I don’t believe either Tim or Martin want to hurt me. Do I think either of them killed Gertrude? No not really, but it seems that what I think matters very little.

I want to trust them, all of them, but trust is something I’ve always struggled with and that has not changed. I do care about these people. Tim, Sasha, and yes, Martin.

I think that’s what the breaking point was. Realizing how much I care.

The thought of losing Basira when we went to confront Michael was…. Sickening. Knowing that Sasha is still trapped there is bad enough, but the thought of losing anyone else is…. I won’t let it happen.

If any of you end up listening to the tape, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Michael meant by proving I’m better than Gertrude but I have this nagging suspicion I have to do it on my own.

I know, that’s exactly the opposite of what everyone wants, especially Martin. God, Martin……”

Sighes

“I’m going to get Sasha back. I hope that in doing so I will discover my mother’s murderer, but I know better than to be so optimistic. I just have to handle this one step at a time, and the first step is learning everything I can about Gertrude. I loathe to ask Elias about her, as currently he’s the one I’m most suspicious of, and it’s not like I can talk to Sasha.

I can’t drag Basira into this any more than I already have. She’s still going to bring me tapes and that’s already more than she should be doing for me.

I haven’t been able to find Michael in the tunnels again……”

Paper rustles.

“I have other leads. Well, I have at least one. Gertrude’s most recent address. Turns out it hasn’t been let out yet, and all of her things should still be there.

It’s not much but it’s something.

I need to figure this out. I will.

I just- I’m tired. I miss my friends.

End supplemental.”

Click

Chapter Text

Jon wasn’t at all charmed by his late mother’s old neighborhood.

The air was crisp and cold, and smelled of stale, standing water and lingering cigarette smoke. The old brick building looked borderline decrepit from the outside, and the fire escape that snaked up it seemed about to pull away from the building at the slightest provocation.
It looked…. Ill suited for an elderly woman, and just as much so for a creature such as himself.

Jon pulled his coat a little tighter around himself as he shivered. It was a cold, wet and miserable night, so thematically it was perfect for what he was doing.
After walking around the building and reviewing the address, he deduced that Gertrude’s flat was on the third floor, which was just great.

He wasn’t too keen on trying to get up the fire escape to get in and then back down, but he wasn’t confident enough in his nonexistent lock picking skills to try the front door. He wished he had brought rope. He wished he owned some rope to bring.
While the thought of climbing up or down a rope was a rather ridiculous one, it would be nice to have the option considering how unstable that fire escape looked.
Oh, well. Just another thing to add to his growing list of frustrations.

He approached the rusty ladder that led up to the first landing and decided to forgo it altogether with a rather ambitious jump that he actually managed.
Despite sticking the landing, he immediately regretted his decision as the rusted iron groaned under him. Jon froze, waiting to see if the damn thing would collapse under him or if his luck hadn’t left him completely. Fortunately it was the latter and after a moment he worked up the courage to continue upwards.

When he was confident he was outside of the right apartment he tried to open the window, and just as expected it was locked. He had hoped that whatever powers that were at play in his life would be kind enough to grant him the one mercy of an easy entrance, but it figured that they couldn’t be so considerate.

With a sigh he pulled his gloves a little tighter on his hands and pulled the rock he had brought for this out of his pocket.
Breaking a window with a rock wasn't a difficult task, and it wasn’t any more difficult to unlock the window and slide it open to avoid the worst of the broken glass while climbing in.

Once in he quickly looked around to get his bearings. The only light was what crawled its way in from the street lights below and even with how sparse the furniture was, it made deep and twisted shadows in the small flat.
There only seemed to be three rooms, the living room with the kitchen, the bathroom and the bedroom. He started with the living room and kitchen. Throwing open cabinets and pulling the cushions off of the little armchair in the corner, but didn’t find anything of any real note except for a laptop charger in one of the kitchen drawers.

Moving to the bedroom he noticed there was a very well kept bookshelf so he started there.
As he pulled out books and flipped through them he briefly let himself reflect on just how soulless the little flat was. There were no pictures on the wall or on any surfaces, nor was there any art. He could find no evidence that Gertrude had had hobbies or even items of sentimental value. Her books were on history and practically untouched, but based off of the list of books he found on one of the shelves it seemed she read plenty.

He vaguely remembered living in a place where he had a collection of toys, colorful blankets to sleep on and trinkets to knock onto the floor, but there was no sign of anything of the sort. No toy mice, no pastel baby blankets, no collection of novelty shot glasses. Nothing. Just the essentials and books with all of the eyes cut out of the pictures. And no laptop either.

After combing the bookshelf he checked under the bed, and while he still wasn’t fortunate enough to find the computer he was being taunted by the promise of, there was something down there. In the near pitch black room he could only make out the silhouette of something square, but it was something.
It was a bit of a struggle but he was a small man and was able to crawl under the bed enough to get his hands on the thing, which turned out to be a small wooden box. He thought it might be a jewelry box until he pulled it out and moved next to the window to get a better look at it.

It was small enough that he could comfortably hold it in one hand, but much too big to be a ring box and was made of a dark, polished wood.

There was a little paw print painted on the top of it and a metal plate that read:

Jonathan.

Oh.

This was a box of his ashes. Or what Gertrude had used as a substitute.

He gently brushed his fingers along the smooth wood and the cool metal of the name plate as the reality of what he was holding finally settled over him. She never actually had his remains, just a fist full of ash from her scorched home that she had decided would have to suffice. As he traced it with his fingertips, he found the seam where it slid open and a morbid sort of curiosity gripped him.

He opened it.

There were three things inside.

A small plastic bag of ash, a little jar with a few whiskers and claw sheddings in it and an old polaroid. It was a middle aged woman’s attempt at an awkward selfie. The photo was a little out of focus, but he could still make out Gertrude, one arm extended out of frame as she took the photo with it, her face painted with a pinched scowl of concentration and tucked against her chest with her other arm was a scruffy little kitten.
It was a picture of the two of them, himself being a fluffy blob of brown fur with two big, green eyes staring into the camera.

He stared at the polaroid dumbly, his search completely forgotten.

It was a strange thing to see, physical evidence of himself as a cat and Gertrude as his caretaker. He could talk all day about having been born a cat and being Gertrude Robinson’s son, but before now they had been detached and meaningless claims.
Here he had something akin to proof. Proof that he had been loved by her.

He stayed crouched there on the floor staring at the little photo until he heard sirens, which snapped him out of his stupor and he quickly scrambled out of the window and back to the street below.
He of course brought the box and its contents with him.

Back at his flat he produced it once more and spent entirely too long staring at the polaroid and examining what was undoubtedly his own whiskers and claw sheddings in the bottle.
As strange as it was he had essentially found a baby photo of himself and the equivalent of saved baby teeth.

Martin would think this is really cute.

Suddenly his stomach was twisting in knots and he wondered where that thought had come from.

He didn’t want Martin to see all of this, not only because it was embarrassing but because he didn’t want anyone to know about him breaking and entering.

Jon smacked his cheeks to bring himself back to his senses. He especially didn’t want Martin to see this stuff! This was all deeply personal and very, very important to him so there was absolutely no way he’d want to show this to anyone, let alone Martin.

Really. Showing any of this to Martin was absurd. He would never.

But he could picture his freckled face turning as red as his hair as he bit his lip. Martin would hold the photo so carefully, one hand over his mouth and would squeak around his fingers, “Is this you?”
And Jon would huff and snatch the photo back and tell him that there’s nothing to act so flustered about and that he was making things weird and it was no big deal.
Martin would smile a big, goofy smile and nod without a word. Instead he’d look at the jar and its contents and say “You were an adorable kitten.”
Jon would look at him incredulously and tell him not to say it like that and-

He shook his head, all at once aware of how hot his face was and how his tail was whipping back and forth. He slapped his cheeks in disbelief. What was that???
He had been distantly aware that he hadn’t been handling recent events very well, but this was a whole new level of delirium. The sleep deprivation and stress were really and truly taking their toll on him.

Jon quickly put everything back in the box and hid it in one of the kitchen drawers before chugging a glass of water and allowing himself a full body shake.
He needed to go to bed, get some rest and clear his head, then he could think more about what he should do next.

As he settled in for the night, he kept having to push aside thoughts of soft jumpers that smelled like vanilla and that accursed smile.

~

“Damn it.” Jon muttered under his breath as he looked at the google results for The Trophy Room. The taxidermy shop was still open, and despite his better judgment he was going to have to investigate it. The statement of Alexander Scaplehorn regarding the unsettling business was undoubtedly a real case, and considering the potential connections between it and several other statements he had documented there was no way he could ignore it. Nor could he ignore the incredible lead that was the shop itself still being in business.

What was bothering him was that this was very clearly a dangerous place and he couldn’t risk sending any of his assistants there, nor was he going to get Basira involved anymore than she already was. That meant he was just going to have to go himself.

He flipped back through his binder that included a ‘Skin and Missing Persons’ section that included Cases #012204, #0161704 and notes on Tim’s statement.
He didn’t like the connection between the Angler fish, its victims, skin and taxidermy, and it certainly didn’t bode well for his investigation.

What also made the whole situation more difficult is that he couldn't tell either Tim or Martin that he was going to investigate The Trophy Room, otherwise they’d try to stop him or come with and he wasn’t sure what would be worse.

He jotted down notes about the statement to add to his binder as he tried to navigate google maps so he could see the street it was on. It was outside of London which meant he couldn’t sneak out on his lunch break, he’d have to wait until after hours.

As he was reviewing the details of his expedition to The Trophy Room and if there was anywhere he could pick up another cleaver on short notice (Martin had found and confiscated his) the office door swung open and Tim strode it. “Hey, do you have-?” He stopped short as Jon slammed his binder shut and quickly closed the webpage that clearly showed his planned route on google maps.

“Tim! Ah, yes?”

Tim sighed deeply. “Okay. What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Working.” Jon folded his hands on his desk doing his best to look the picture of innocence.

“You were frantically trying to hide things just now.” His assistant crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “Not only that but you’ve been acting weird lately. Weirder than normal.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Jon tried to adopt a bored expression, but his ears twitched anxiously every time Tim spoke.

“Oh come on, Jon! You were just starting to talk to us and then out of the blue you shut down again. You’ve hardly looked at Martin or I for almost a week now. What are you up to?”

“I’m not- it’s-” Jon squared his shoulders “I’m just trying to play it safe for now.”

“Safe how!” Tim cried, his brow knight with concern and frustration.

Jon knew that his distant behavior was upsetting his friends, but ever since his and Basira’s encounter with Michael in the tunnels he just couldn’t take the risk of involving them.
“Safe for you and Martin.” He snapped, pushing back his chair to stand.

“News flash, Sims, we’re adults. We can take care of ourselves.”

“But not when it comes to monsters!” Jon gestured vaguely around them, as if insinuating that the world at large was out to get them. “Once I figure out what I have to do then-then….. Just forget it, Tim. Go back to work.”

“No.” the taller man had moved forward and was reaching for his binder. “You need to stop keeping secrets.”

Jon tried to snatch the binder up first. “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”
Their hands collided right above the coveted item, and in their mutual haste and mindlessness, Jon couldn’t stop his claws from digging into the tender flesh of Tim’s hand.

“Damn it!” Tim pulled his hand back as blood oozed from the cuts.

“Shit! I’m sorry.” Jon held up his hands apologetically, moving around his desk in an effort to help.

“Don’t.” His assistant applied pressure to the scratches with his unmarred hand as he backed out of the office. “Just- Whatever. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Tim, wait!”

It was too late, he was gone.

The Archivist stood in the doorway of his office cursing under his breath. He turned his hand over and looked at the blood under his nails.

Idiot.

Some distant part of him remembered that by certain standards he was a monster.

Jon shook his head to clear it and then grabbed his coat.
Fuck it. He was going to leave work early and get it over with.

~

Tim and Jon had gotten into a fight about….. Something.

Being around them could be a bit miserable at times, but they hadn’t been fighting so Martin figured he had better see what the commotion was about. He hadn’t been able to make out any words, just that their tones had been harsh and their voices raised.
As he approached the office he saw Jon pulling on his coat and power walking towards the stairs, skirt waving wildly from his tail.

Well that didn’t bode well.

He found Tim in the bathroom, grumbling quietly and washing what looked to be blood off of his hand.

“Tim! What happened? Are you okay!”

Tim jumped a little when Martins spoke. He must have been really bent out of shape to have been startled so easily.
“Yeah. Jon scratched me.”

“What?? Why??” Martin moved closer to get a look at the damage.

“It was an accident.” Tim mumbled as he let the other man examine his hand. Given the size and shape of Jon’s claws, even the light scratches looked fairly nasty.

“Let me get the first aid kit.”

Once he had returned with the kit and was getting out supplies he began his interrogation. “What were you two fighting about?”

Tim groaned and rubbed his eyes with his uninjured hand. “Him being sneaky and secretive. I walked in and he was trying to hide what he was working on.”

“And that sparked a fight how….?” Martin wrapped his friend's hand with gauze while simultaneously fixing him with an inquisitive gaze.

“I know he’s doing something, or getting into trouble that he’s not telling us about, and it could be related to Sasha! I just hate being left in the dark.”

“And you thought picking a fight was the way to go?”

“I didn’t pick a fight! I confronted him!”

“Yeah, but why?” Martin secured the gauze with a bit of tape as he spoke. “He’s been secretive and withdrawn, sure, but he hasn’t been nasty or anything.”

“I’m just mad at him!” Tim pulled back his hand scowled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t trust me! We’ve known each other for years and I’ve never given him reason not to! And he just- he acts like he’s the only one-” he sighed. “Like he’s the only one responsible.”

Tim curled his injured hand into a fist and Martin watched the freshly placed gauze slowly turn red as the movement stretched the wounded skin.
“Sasha ran out to save me, it’s because of me that she was separated from us, if anyone’s responsible it’s me.”

“And I’m the one that Prentiss followed to the Institute. Look Tim, we all have reason to feel guilty, but taking it out on each other isn’t going to help anyone.”
Martin continued talking as he put away the first aid kit. “Nobody’s handling this very well, not really. How about we try calmly talking about it with Jon when he gets back?”

Tim finally looked at him with a frown on his face. “Get’s back from where?”

Martin shrugged a little. “I don’t know. He was leaving the archives when I was coming to find you.”

“Hang on-” Tim pushed past him and made for the office.

“Tim what-?” Martin tried to ask what was going on as he followed, but the other man just cut him off with a wave as he walked up to Jon’s desk and began rummaging around. He pulled out a few statement folders and his laptop but it seemed Jon had taken
his binder with him.

Tim opened the laptop and typed something in before snorting triumphantly. “Of course he has the same password as when he worked in research.”

“Tim what is it?” Martin moved next to his friend so he could see what he was doing on their boss’ computer.

“Fuck.” Tim hissed and angled the screen to give Martin a better view.

He squinted as he processed what Tim was showing him before realization hit him and confusion was replaced by terror.
“Is that the taxidermy shop from Alexander Scaplehorn’s statement?”

“Yeah.” Tim continued to look through Jon’s browser history. “He’s going there to investigate on his own.”

“I read that statement, it sounds like it could be dangerous.” Martin’s heart was beating out of his chest now as his mind ran wild with all of the ways Jon could get hurt at a place like The Trophy Room. The darkest part of his mind conjured up the image of Jon unmoving, posed like a house cat with his beautiful green eyes replaced with soulless glass.

He swallowed with a shudder as Tim all but ran out of the office. “Come on, we might still be able to catch him before he gets far from the Institute.”

Martin came out to the bullpen where Tim was grabbing his phone and keys. “You want to follow him?”

“What? Do you want to let our cat boss go to the body snatching taxidermy shop?”

“N-no.”

“Then come on.”

~

Jon was on the tube to Barnet, still picking at the little bit of dried blood under his nails while his back ached and his bandana pinched his ears.

This was horrible, rotten even.

He was supposed to be keeping them safe, not scratching them. Or letting them get swallowed by malicious halls. Or stalked by Flesh Hives.
Life would be so much simpler if he were still a cat. Just eat, sleep, play, repeat.

His frustration at the whole situation was making his eyes sting and his throat tighten.

God damn it, he had better not start crying.

He was sitting far enough away from all of the other passengers and it was noisy enough that he let himself quietly growl as he obsessed over his nails.

Jon still had no clue what Michael meant by proving he was better than Gertrude, but whatever it was he was going to figure it out.

When he reached his stop he pulled his bag a little closer to himself as he started the walk from the station to The Trophy Room. He hadn’t gotten another knife, instead he had his claws and an umbrella he could use like a baton.
He could tell he was getting close when the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end, and sure enough, as he looked through the front window of The Trophy Room, his skin pricked with an unfortunately familiar sense of wrongness.

The faded stuffed tiger at the front of the shop was posed in a mockery of ferocity, but it was so old and frayed that it just looked sad. As if it desperately wanted someone to put it out of its misery.

Jon swallowed and tried to still his shaking hands before entering. As he stepped in, the bell over the door rang, announcing his presence to the whole place. There was no movement but he felt like a hundred eyes had turned on him at once, and all of them were made of lifeless glass.

With each step the wood under his feet groaned and his skin crawled as his nostrils stung with the foul stench of death and chemicals.

There was a young man behind the counter that hadn’t looked up at him yet, instead he was quite absorbed in his game of solitaire.
This must be Daniel Rawlings, owner of the taxidermy shop and potentially the same man that had gone missing in 2006. Jon had taken the time to familiarize himself with the Daniel that had gone missing and the one behind the counter didn’t look like him at all, except for his hair.

“E-excuse me.” He began nervously, picking at the hem of his shirt to keep his hands occupied.

The presumed Daniel didn’t look up, but he did smile. A smug, predatory smile that made Jon’s throat tighten.
The entirety of The Trophy Room reeked with paranormal energy and malice. This man had a sickening aura of wrongness to him that wasn’t entirely different to Michael’s. With every second that ticked by, Jon was feeling more and more uneasy.

“I’ll be right with you.” Daniel said slowly with a tone that made a mockery of every customer service voice ever used.

“R-right.” Jon stuttered as he felt more and more aware of all of the stuffed and mounted animals around him.
He should start asking questions before he lost his nerve, maybe he could catch the owner off guard.
“Are you-?” He had just stepped forward to interrogate Daniel when he heard a thump from the back office. He almost bit his tongue as he jumped at the noise.

Daniel looked up, and sure enough his eyes were dark and soulless as he smiled that smug smile again. “Would you like to take a look in the back? We’ve got some new arrivals.”
Jon felt his heart leap into his throat as the room seemed to shrink around him until all that he could process was all of the lifeless bodies poised as if about to pounce on him.
“I-I don’t-”

The bell rang.

All at once Jon could breathe again as the room seemed to return to its proper size and the monsters preparing to leap at him became stiff taxidermy once more.

“There you are! Don’t wander off like that!” a very familiar voice was ringing through the shop, cutting through his panic and grounding him.

He whipped his head to look at the door just in time to see it shut behind Martin.

“Now I know you love taxidermy, but we have enough already.” Martin had closed the distance and was gripping him firmly just above the elbow while Jon was still trying to process everything.

“Come along, you don’t want to be late for dinner now do you?” with a gentle yet firm tug the larger man started leading him to the door.

Daniel didn’t comment or make any moves to stop them and they exited The Trophy Room unaccosted.

“Martin, what are you doing here?” At the same time that he asked the question he saw Tim standing on the sidewalk looking rather put off by the whole situation.

“What are both of you doing?”

Martin let go of his arm and Jon instinctively pulled it close to his chest.

“What are you doing here alone?” Tim retorted.

“Following up on a statement.” Jun tucked both hands under his arms, hoping that he would just look cold and not like he was hugging himself out of fear.

“Jon, you’re shaking.” Martin was hovering next to him, not touching but looking like he very much wanted to.

Jon looked down at himself and could see the shudder consistently running through his body. So much for pretending to just be cold.
“Let’s just-” He glanced over his shoulder at the stuffed tiger in the window. It looked like it was in pain. “Let’s get away from here. It’s all wrong.”
He quickly walked away, the other two following.

“I knew you were up to something dangerous.” Tim hissed from behind him. “Why would you come here alone? No. Don’t answer. I know what your excuse is.”

“You didn't have to come. Nothing happened.” Jon hoped that walking with his back to them would mask just how distressed he was.

“But something could have.” Martin huffed as he tried to keep pace. “And you said yourself that there’s something wrong with that place.”

“There’s something wrong with a lot of places.” The whole situation was getting out of hand very quickly and Jon didn’t know what to do or what to tell them.

“Stop. Stop.” Tim caught up and blocked the way. “You disappear for days and we find you exhausted and dehydrated on the floor of the archives, only months after we all get attacked by killer worms. Before that you were running around alone in the spooky tunnels under the Institute at night while you should have been letting your wounds heal. Now you’re going alone to places from statements when we know they’re dangerous. You can’t keep doing things like this, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Jon gripped his coat over his chest as he spoke. “I can’t just sit and do nothing! I have to follow what few leads I have!”

“But not alone!” Tim cried, his voice cracking. “You’re going to go off alone and something will happen and then I’ll have lost you! Just like Sasha and Danny!”
Tim swiped a stray tear from his face and Jon deflated. He did keep leaving them behind, didn’t he?

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Tim beat him to it.
“Four days, Jon. Four days of not knowing what had happened to you. I-” He shook his head before could continue. “I was hoping you just quit. That I missed something and you weren’t supernaturally taken, just that you left on your own without a goodbye or anything. Just not…. Just that I hadn’t lost anyone else to these monsters.”
As he spoke, his voice cracked and there was moisture on his eyelashes. “I’m trying to keep it together but….”

Jon didn’t know what to do or say. He looked at Martin who looked surprisingly stoic, but Jon knew that he must have emotions just as strong as Tim’s on the matter. It must have been horrible for both of them, not knowing what had happened to him while still very much missing Sasha.

They stood in silence on the side of the road, wind whistling through the alleys.

“Come on.” there was a warm hand on Jon’s back, ushering him along. Martin patted Tim on the arm as well, prompting him to keep moving. “Let’s get out of here. It’s cold.”

The redhead looked up and down the empty street as he got his friends to move. “And creepy.”

Chapter Text

The clock struck five and Tim was immediately on his feet and gathering his things. Martin watched him from where he still sat at his desk, making no move to follow him.
As Tim adjusted Elias Jr. so it was facing the stairs and set a pair of star shaped sunglasses on it he addressed Martin without looking at him. “Staying until he leaves, huh?”

Martin closed out of the Tetris game he had been playing on his computer. “I’m going to try and convince him to go home. Or at least not to do anything stupid.”
Tim just grunted and rubbed his face wearily before giving a nod and heading for the exit.

Tim and Jon were both running on fumes, but in different ways. The helplessness of the situation was seemingly sapping away Tim’s energy and on the opposite end of the spectrum it was making Jon act recklessly.
It had been two weeks already since Jon had gone to The Trophy Room alone and since then Martin had been keeping a close eye on both of them. He desperately wished that they could sit down and just talk about what was going on, but his two best friends seemed incapable of doing any such thing.

Tim was long gone by the time he decided he’d waited long enough and made for the office.

Martin only knocked once before entering. Jon was sitting on the floor holding a statement folder and when he looked up his face was painted with sorrow and anger.
“Jon, are you okay?” Martin closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

“Why do you keep lying to me?” Jon’s voice was quiet, more defeated than angry.

Martin’s heart skipped a beat. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

Jon looked down at the folder in his hands. “This is the other half of Tevor Hurbert’s statement, but when I recorded the first one you told me he died.”

“I, uh.” Martin’s mind raced trying to figure out what Jon was talking about. “I- I thought they said he died. Maybe they said he almost died? I don’t know. It was years back but I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“But you’ve been lying about other things.” Jon said it so matter of fact as he got up from the floor. He was clearly upset but he wasn’t raising his voice as he spoke. “You’ve gone through my desk before, you lied about Trevor and I know you’ve lied about something else. Something important.”

All of the times Martin had searched through Jon’s desk out of concern were coming back to bite him. He desperately tried to think of a defense other than “I thought you were a cat” or “I just really like you” because neither response was going to get him out of this situation.
“Well, it’s just that- uh, I mean- what-”

“Martin!” Jon snapped, fangs bared. “What are you lying to me about?”

Martin’s mind pivoted as he remembered something. “Wait, did you go through my journals?”

“You went through my things first, now answer me!”

Jon had gone through his poetry journals. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Was this before or after Martin had started writing about him?
Please let it have been before. Oh dear god. If Jon had read the line, “you who give me reason to wear blue, just to see what it does to you” he might just have to jump off of the roof.

Apparently he had been silently panicking for too long because Jon hissed a little and repeated the question. “What are you lying to me about, Martin?”

“I’m not-”

“You are!” Jon slammed a hand on his desk, making Martin jump. Jon’s face briefly creased with guilt before settling back into anger.

“Okay! Okay! Just promise you won’t fire me, okay?”

“Fire you?”

“Yes, just- look, I lied on my CV, okay? I don’t have a masters in parapsychology. I don’t even have a degree.” Martin was shaking now. The prospect of sharing certain aspects of his life was making him nauseous but now that he had started he couldn’t stop talking.
“When I was seventeen, my mum, she had… Look, she had some problems and I ended up dropping out of school, trying to support us. I tried everything, but nowhere was hiring. So, I just kind of started to lie on my applications. Sending them out to just about anywhere. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias and then a- a job here. M-most of my employment details are made up. I’m only twenty nine.”

Every aspect of Jon softened, his face, his posture and his voice as he whispered a response. “Oh, Martin.”

“Do you- do you believe me?”

“Yes. Yes I believe you. And I won’t tell Elias, we can keep this between us.”

Martin’s mouth had gone dry but it was Jon who swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, for- well, you know.”

“It’s fine, Jon.”

Jon’s ears angled back and he pressed his lips tightly together. “I don’t-” He cut himself off by turning and tossing the statement folder onto his desk with a sigh.

“You don’t what?” Martin chanced moving a little closer to the other man.

Jon sighed again and ran one hand over his face while supporting himself against the desk with his other one, shoulders sagging and tail hanging limp.
“I don’t like it when you forgive me so easily.”

Martin’s breath hitched.

Oh Jon.

Jonathan Sims had spent his whole life being afraid of being exposed, and Martin could only wonder at the reprimanding he had received as a child and the insecurities that had instilled in him.

“That’s a shame. Because I always will.” He was so painfully, dangerously close to saying something to his boss that he wouldn’t be able to take back, something that might ruin their fragile friendship.

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“You’ve never been great at decision making.”

Jon’s tail flicked in annoyance and Martin counted that as a win. Having his ego bruised and feeling indignant was much more in character for Jon than moping.

“I still owe you sushi.” Martin continued, gesturing behind them at the door. “I know you haven’t eaten all day so let’s go.”

Jon made eye contact. “You frustrate me to no end.”

“And I will continue to do so. Now grab your things, we need to get there before it gets too busy.”

Jon grumbled something but didn’t protest any more than that and followed Martin out of the archives.

They didn’t talk on their way to the restaurant but Martin didn’t mind. He found that he quite enjoyed being silent with Jon, although he had no idea if the feeling was mutual.
Silent walks used to feel lonely to him, even when with someone, but Jon’s company really did seem to fill the usual void even when they weren’t interacting.
The nights he spent in the archives had been much less scary when he knew Jon was holed up in his office or just somewhere amongst the stacks, and even when he was avoiding Martin it had been comforting just knowing he was around.

Martin’s mind raced with all of the things he wanted to say to the other man, but knew it wasn’t the time nor the place.

They at least needed to get Sasha back before he really considered confessing to Jon. Ideally he’d also get some closure in regards to his mother but who knows how long that would take.

Thinking of Jon’s mum immediately made him think of his own.
He should go visit her. He hadn’t visited his mum since before Prentiss attacked the institute.
That thought made his stomach churn. What if she had heard what had happened from some other source? His poor mother must be worried sick.
When would he even find the time to visit? He needed to be available for Jon and Tim, and he’d never forgive himself if he was all the way in Devon and one of them ended up needing him.
Thoughts of his mother now completely bogged his mind, the serenity of the evening forgotten and his walking companion as well.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a pressure on his forearm and looked down to see Jon was giving it a squeeze.

“Um.” Martin could feel his face flushing red from the contact.

Jon withdrew his hand. “Sorry, you just seemed…. Upset.”

“It’s fine.” He could see his boss frown a little at his quick reassurance but kept speaking. “I was just thinking about my own mum.”

The shorter man opened his mouth to say something but they were walking through the door of the sushi place and the conversation was put on hold while they were seated.

Once they were at a table, Jon started fiddling with his bandana, making sure his hair wasn’t caught in any of the knots and that it was secure enough without being uncomfortable. Martin watched while remembering how lovely it had been to run his fingers through that dark hair and to massage his soft ears.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was red in the face again when Jon looked at him with pinched brows. “So, um. You mentioned your mum was, ah, ill?”

“She- well, she’s got a lot of health issues. She’s in a care home in Devon. I really should go visit her soon.”

Martin didn’t really want to talk about his mother anymore, it made him feel guilty and stressed. Thankfully Jon didn’t ask about her again, just nodded and picked at the sleeves of his shirt until a waiter came and took their orders.

Martin was sipping his water when he noticed Jon pulling out his wallet. “Whoa, whoa whoa! I told you I owed you sushi.”

Jon just grunted and continued to check his wallet for cash.

“No, nope.” Martin tried reaching across the table and taking it from him but his boss had pulled it back too fast.

“Well I’m not letting you pay for me.” Jon huffed.

“But I am.” Martin insisted.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Look, Martin.” Jon leaned over the table punctuation the sentence with his hands. “I’ve been an ass and yelled at you for lying so you’re not paying for me.”

“Well I went through your desk so I’m paying.”

“And I went through your things so you’re not.”

Martin’s mind jumped from the current argument to something else completely. “How much of my journals did you read?”

“Oh. Um….” Jon shrank in his seat a little. “Well…. You had left three under the cot.”

“Mhm.” Martin nodded.

“And I read all three.”

Martin felt a little like he had been punched. “All three?”

“Yes.”

“Front to back?”

“Yes.”

Play it cool, Blackwood. Play it cool.

“When was this?”

Please let it have been before Jon had disappeared with Helen Richardson. Please.

“Uh, the night you left early before giving me Gertrude’s tape.”

Oh thank god.

“Well.” Martin shifted in his seat awkwardly and cleared his throat. As embarrassing as it was that Jon had read his poetry books, it could be worse. He had managed to keep from doodling his crush’s name on his things for over a year but recently he hadn’t been able to resist just a few poems here and there.

“So… What did you think?”

Jon had folded his arms on the table. “Of your poetry?”

Martin nodded.

“It, uh….” his boss’ eyes darted back and forth while he clearly was trying to formulate an answer. “I’ve never been a big fan of poetry.”

Martin did his best to not let the soul crushing disappointment he was feeling show on his face as Jon continued.

“It was ah, very heartfelt. But I didn’t really- um, I didn’t really get it. But it was still nice? In its own way.”

“Okay.”

Apparently he wasn’t doing as good of a job as keeping his face neutral as he had thought because Jon’s eyes widened ever so slightly and he began to talk faster.

“I guess what I’m getting at is that I don’t really have enough of an understanding of poetry to- to uh, you know, properly give a review. I’m somewhat aware that there are different styles of poetry and not all of them are dependent on rhyming, rather they’re more about the syllables or the emphasis placed on certain words within the lines, but I haven’t taken the proper time to study how the sentence structure constitutes towards poetry. All that to say I’m not the best judge so don’t worry yourself with my opinion, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh.”

Damn it Jon.

Martin was only getting redder as his boss went on because he was just being so fucking adorable.
He was suddenly very grateful for the table between them because without it he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist doing something horribly inappropriate, like cradling the other man’s face in his hands and professing his love.

Love?

Was he in love with Jonathan Sims? Jonathan Sims, his boss? Jonathan Sims, a former cat?
It was too early to be sure he loved this strange man, it was just a crush!

Jon was sitting across from him, babbling on about panegyric praises delivered in ancient Athens, deep green eyes constantly shifting to look at everything around them several times over, hands moving in time with his words for emphasis and his beautiful voice turning even the most boring of facts into a psalm.
In that moment, Martin wished he were a better poet so he could turn this scene into verse and do it justice.

He must be in love after all.

“-and Poiesis is the process of something emerging that didn’t previously exist, and- Martin are you listening?” Jon paused his monologue when he noticed his assistant had a glazed look on his face.

“You have my full attention.” Martin didn’t mean to sound so utterly and hopelessly smitten, but his breathy tone when he spoke was pretty obvious.

“Right, anyway, where was I?” If Jon noticed, and Martin wondered how he couldn’t, he at least had the decency to ignore it.

“Poiesis.”

“Yes, Poiesis. So as I was saying-”

They received their orders and ate, all the while Jon bounced from subject to subject, all loosely connected as he had started on the topic of poetry and was now talking about electrolytes.
Martin just listened and savored every moment.

For just a few hours, it was almost like they were normal people, without the worry of monsters or murders hanging over them.
He could also pretend that they were on a date, if it weren’t for the fact that Jon might be dating someone else.

Martin was working so hard to not think about Basira that he didn’t even notice when they received separate bills and Jon was paying his.

“Wait.” Martin looked over his bill. “Did you-?”

“Yes.” Jon said smugly as he stood up from the table. “I told you you weren’t paying for me.”

“But I-” He was going to argue but his boss was already walking away.

“Come along, Martin.”

He had no choice but to obey and they soon found themselves on the sidewalk once again.

It was late and they both had work in the morning, so it really was time to part ways, but neither moved.
Martin looked at Jon in all of his beauty and desperately wanted to kiss him but managed to force that thought from his head.

“Well, um. Good night, Martin.” The shorter man said as he finished buttoning up his coat.

“Good night, Jon.”

Martin melted a little when the man he loved gave him a soft smile before they parted ways.

He wandered for a while before actually going home, letting the night air clear his head and ground him.

He was in love.

He was in love and it was going to drive him mad.

Chapter Text

It was Tuesday, and in Martin’s opinion, Tuesday was as bad as Monday if not worse. The thing about Monday is that everyone was on the same page in regards to why it was the worst day of the week. But Tuesday followed immediately after and not only was it still early in the week, but no one was as rested as they were on Monday, nor was there the usual fanfare.

On Mondays Tim often brought in pastries, less so since Sasha went missing but still on occasion, Jon would be a little less sleep deprived and Martin would restock the tea in the break room.

There were no such highlights on a Tuesday.

Martin was looking over the list of people he had to call for statement follow ups while Tim was inhaling one of the doughnuts left over from yesterday. He was getting crumbs on the folders at his desk and Martin thought about telling him not to be so messy, but he wasn’t that much of a fool. The current unspoken rule in the archives was that whatever Jon or Tim did that wasn’t actively harmful to themselves or others was to be ignored. Any time he wasn’t spending following dead end leads about Sasha or Michael, Tim was adding to the Elias Jr. Shrine, playing a game on his desk top or going to argue with Andy at artifact storage.

Apparently Matthew- No, Michael had ‘come to work’ recently, but no one at the institute could seem to remember what he had done or how long he’d been there or even what day.
Whatever happened to Michael when he had been trying to save Sasha had warped everyone’s perception of him so much that it was almost like their ability to remember him had been affected.

Tim had the name Michael Shelley written on just about every piece of paper on his desk just so he wouldn’t forget it.

Martin was just about to dial the number of a woman who had left a statement claiming to have been chased by a zombie that seemed an awful lot like a drunk man, when the unmistakable sound of someone coming down the stairs to the archives distracted him.

Tim looked up at the doors, mouthful of doughnut and squinting suspiciously while Martin tried to set the handset back down without looking but missed and dropped it. He was reaching down for it when Elias Bouchard entered the archives.
“Hello, Mr. B-Ow!” Martin knocked his head against his desk while sitting back up and almost lost his glasses in the process.

Elias looked at him, rubbing his head and glasses askew before turning to Tim who had a whole doughnut stuffed into his mouth and sticky crumbs all over his desk before sighing and continuing towards Jon’s office.
Mr. Bouchard hadn’t even bothered to say hi to either of them which didn’t bode well. He and Tim exchanged a look while they waited to see what was about to happen.

Elias and Jon were in the office for about ten minutes before they both emerged, Elias first with his chin raised and Jon following looking exceptionally grumpy.

Tim had finished his doughnut and started on a bagel while they had been in the office and seeing his regular boss and his boss squared, he stuffed a whole half bagel into his mouth.
Elias made a disapproving face at the chubby cheeked and cream cheese smeared face of Timothy Stoker but didn’t comment on it, instead he cleared his throat and began to speak.
“I’ve just discussed some matters with Jon and it’s painfully apparent to me that we need to have an archival staff meeting.”

Jon looked like someone had just presented him with a bowl of antifreeze for dinner instead of actual food and that someone was Elias Bouchard.
Martin could tell that he was just as annoyed by the Institute head’s presence as they were.

“It comes to my attention that the amount of work being done down here hasn’t been at the same pace nor caliber that it was before the incident in July.”
Tim snorted and rolled his eyes.
Elias opened his mouth to continue speaking with a click of his tongue. “I realize that it's been a trying time for everyone with the loss of Ms. James.”

Tim spat out his last bite of bagel so he could speak. “Don’t talk about her like she’s dead.”

Mr. Bouchard inhaled slowly before he replied. “Ms. James’ absence is a loss regardless of her mortuary status.”
He turned his attention back to the group at large. “That being said, as head of the Institute I must warn you all that your current lack of care and dedication to your work can not be tolerated. I expect to see an improvement in everyone’s performance down here by December. If not, all of you will be looking at formal disciplinary measures and not just a meeting.”

Next to him Jon made a low and disgruntled noise that Martin could now identify as an angry growl. The grumble, as he was calling it.
“It’s rather unreasonable to expect us to be efficient when Gertrude’s murder is still unsolved.”

Elias turned fully to Jon. “Don’t tell me that’s what’s been bothering you?”

Jon visibly bristled at the other man’s words and Elias wisely backed off a little.

“Look,” He said with a notably softer voice. “If it will put your mind at ease, take this.” Mr. Bouchard produced a thumb drive and offered it to Jon.

“The police finished cleaning up the CCTV footage from the week of Gertrude’s murder, it clears everyone at the Institute.”

Jon took it, cradling it in his hands like it was a tiny, fragile creature. “But there’s no cameras in the archives.”

“No, but there are everywhere else in the institute. The footage shows the movements of everyone from the week leading up to her murder, including myself and everyone working in the archives.”

Jon looked at the thumb drive with a mix of hope and skepticism.

Elias addressed the group as a whole. “With that out of the way I hope to see an improvement down here and soon. Also, I’ve had the lock on the trapdoor to the tunnels changed, so I hope there won’t be any more subterranean exploration while on company time.”

Before any of them could argue about their tunnel privileges being revoked he left. There was a minute where they all stared at the doors to the stairs listening to their familiar groaning grow fainter until it was quiet, and then Jon was running to his office with Martin and Tim in hot pursuit.

Jon had his computer out and was plugging in the drive before they even got to the threshold. They all huddled around while he began to navigate the footage.
They watched themselves and basically everyone else at the Institute go about their work the day of, before backing up to see the events from earlier in the week.
That was really all they did that day. The three of them reviewed the footage and discussed.

Jon would pause it and precisely find a particularly clear frame of Gertrude when she had been visiting the library prior to her death and stare at it for a long period of time before sighing and continuing to scrub through it all.

By the end of the day there wasn’t much more to be done with the CCTV footage other than to time tea breaks and accuse people of staging what they were seeing.
Martin was cleaning up the breakroom while Jon finished sorting a stack of documents that he was actually going to have to start working on the next day.
The camera footage should be a weight off of him, it cleared himself and all of his friends of murder, even Elias, but it landed him back at square one.
He had been organizing the same folder for about ten minutes before Tim appeared at the door.

“Knock knock.”

“What do you need, Tim?”

“Woooow.” His assistant leaned against the door frame. “What did I do to you?”

“Sorry.” Jon pushed up his empty frames to rub his eyes. “Just- what a day.”

“Yeah.” Tim sighed. “It sucks. The helplessness.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Jon admitted. “I have no idea who might have killed Gertrude and I don’t know how to get to Sasha.”

The other man just nodded. “Yeah, and I…. Well. I’m sorry about the other day. You know, when we got into it before you went off to get turned into taxidermy. You might have noticed, but I haven’t been doing great lately.”

“No, I’m sorry. For scratching you and running off on my own. I also haven’t been doing very well.”

Tim smiled and shook his head, snorting a little. “Honestly, who is?”

Jon pushed the stack of documents away with a little huff. “Martin seems to be doing well enough.”

“Pfff.” His assistant waved a hand dismissively. “He’s putting on a brave face but I know he’s been worried sick about you.”

“I’m not the one he should be so worried about.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Jon pulled off his scarf so he could readjust it before leaving work. Running a hand through his hair he took a deep breath before making eye contact with Tim. “I’m not lying. He should be worried about himself, not fussing over me. I don’t even know why he does it.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Gee, I wonder why.”

Jon flicked his tail in annoyance. “You clearly know something I don’t.”

“And I’m not telling you, you’re just going to have to figure it out for yourself.”

“Whatever.” He re-tied his scarf and grabbed his coat. “But there is something about Martin that worries me.” Seeing Tim adopt a judgmental look he quickly added, “It’s no criticism of him I assure you.”

Jon glanced out into the archives to make sure the man in question wasn’t nearby before continuing. “I do have a special sort of sense for the supernatural and there’s something that tends to hang around Martin at times.”

Tim squared his shoulders and raised one eyebrow in concern.

“It’s- not all supernatural things are the same. Jane Prentiss’ rot was distinctly different from the maddening halls Helen and I got stuck in. What swirls around Martin at times is like a, like a fog. It used to also follow my mother. I think it tries to isolate people.”

Jon swished his tail, feeling a little self conscious from the way his assistant was staring at him. “I’ve only noticed it a couple of times, but- I don’t know what to do about it, and it, well it just worries me.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well my mind’s made up.” Tim fished his keys from his pocket. “We’re going out tonight, all three of us. We could do with a distraction and I want to get drunk.”

Jon groaned. “Fine, but Martin is going to have to carry you home if you pass out, I’m not doing it.”

“You’re telling me I get to be cradled in those big, strong arms of his? Sounds like a great time.” Tim had a smile on his face that said he was teasing, but Jon still felt a flicker of some kind of irritation at the thought of Martin holding another man. He had no idea why that would bother him, it was probably something to do with the amount of stress he’d been under recently.

“Sure, let’s just go.” He hurried into the bullpen looking for the third member of their party.

“Martin we’re going out, get your things and come along.”

The redhead appeared from the break room with a smile on his face. “We are? Splendid! Give me just a moment and I’ll be with you!” As he vanished behind a wall again Jon lashed his tail. Martin’s big strong arms cradling Tim? It was a ridiculous thought and one that didn’t bother him in the least.

“Hey Marto, if I pass out you’re gonna have to take care of me.”
He could hear Tim from somewhere out of sight talking to Martin.

“Oh, uh, sure. I guess. I mean, isn’t that what friends are for?”

“You’re also going to have to carry me around bridal style and gently cradle my face in your hands.”
Tim raised his voice for that last bit as if making sure Jon heard.

“Um. If you want me to?” Martin sounded confused but not put off. Then Jon couldn’t hear anymore of their conversation except some giggling from Tim.
It was fine. Whatever they were saying he didn’t want to know anyway. He was sure it was stupid.

“Will you two hurry up?” He called from near the exit, tapping his foot impatiently. Really, of all the times to flirt with Martin why was Tim doing it right at this moment? Honestly, why was he flirting with the man at all, Jon could have sworn he was smitten with
Sasha?
It was stupid and annoying and he didn’t have time for it. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

~

Whatever little pub Tim had dragged them to was small and blessedly empty.

Tim was already on his second beer while Martin nursed something brightly colored and presumably sweet.
Jon had watered down cranberry juice like the old man he was.

There were only a couple of other people at the bar, otherwise they had the place to themselves.

They had made the pact that they weren’t going to talk about work or monsters or anything of the sort, so instead they were working on a frog tier list.

Tim loved frogs.

During the many outdoors activities that he loved, he liked looking for frogs and then looking up as much information on whatever species he had found later.

“Look at that guy.” Tim shoved his phone in Martin’s face. “That’s an S tier frog right there.”

“He is very cute, what do you think Jon?” Martin looked to their boss who was sitting next to him while Tim was on the other side of the table.

“What sort of frog is it?” Jon asked.

“The Pool frog!” Tim turned his phone back to himself and smiled at the screen. “They were extinct in the UK for a while until they got reintroduced. But I mean, look at this guy! God, that's a good frog.”

“That is a fine frog.” Martin agreed. “S tier.”

“S tier.” Tim echoed and typed its rank into the list he was making on his phone.

“What about poison dart frogs?” Martin asked. “They come in so many pretty colors.”

“S tier.” Tim said without hesitation.

“I get the feeling there’s going to be more frogs in the S tier than anywhere else.” Jon said as he took another sip of his juice.

“As it should be.” Tim quickly scrolled through his list of frogs.

“What about fictional frogs?” Martin said after taking another sip of his drink.

“Fictional frogs?”

“Like, frog characters? Kermit the frog, or uh. Wow. I can’t think of any other frog characters.”

“Mr. Toad from Wind in the Willows?” Jon offered.

“He’s a toad, but I’ll start an honorary mention list for him.” Tim worked on his phone furiously.

“They both belong to the scientific order of Anura.” Jon muttered into his glass although neither of his companions seemed to hear him.

“Well perhaps we don’t include fictional frogs since I can’t think of any more.” Marin mused as rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Too late, I’ve already added Mr. Toad and Kermit.” Tim had finished his second beer and was about to start a third.

“What tier is he in?”

“S naturally.”

Jon stretched over the table, arms in front of him and claws kneading the air as he popped his back. He folded his arms under him and nestled his face in them while the other two babbled on. About now was when he usually would grab a quick nap before his nocturnal nature kicked in and he would work around his flat for most of the night.
In the mostly empty pub he managed to doze off for a short period of time, during which Martin gently rubbed his back while continuing his conversation with Tim.

The sound of Tim laughing loudly stirred him from his cat nap and he cracked his eyes open just in time to see his friend stagger towards the DJ and then the karaoke machine in the corner.
“Oh dear.” He mumbled before becoming more aware of Martin’s arm around his waist.
Maybe it was just because of the strange day he was having, but he made no moves to have him remove his arm.

As they watched Tim fumble through his interaction with the DJ it dawned on Jon that he was drunk. He was drunk and he and Martin were about to be subjected to some of the worst music they’ll ever have to hear.
Sure enough, after a solid ninety seconds of Tim drunkenly swaying and grinning at them like an idiot Thriller began to play and he started to slur the lyrics while wobbling on his feet.

Jon groaned and stood from the table. “That’s enough, I don’t think I can bear to listen to this.”

“Come on, Jon.” Martin said. “He’s having fun, why not let him for a while longer?”
The man had a point. Jon begrudgingly sat back down to endure his friend’s headache inducing singing.

While Tim started a new song, Martin gently nudged Jon. “Didn’t you say you were in a band?”

“I- um. Yes.”

He had been lying about being in a band with Basira, but he had sort of been in one with Georgie. They never played any gigs or even wrote their own music, but they would get together with two other students in their year and play something once in a while.

“Did you sing?” Martin asked.

Jon shifted in his seat anxiously, clearly anticipating where this conversation was going. “Yes.”

“You should join Tim. He’d love it and I’d love to hear you.”

It was times like these that Jon wished he could get drunk without putting his health in serious risk. That or if catnip was strong enough to have that sort of influence on him.
“I’m not really in the mood for-”

“Maybe we should invite Basira out next time, then you’ll have to join in.”

Oh good lord, his lie was coming back to haunt him.
“She’s very busy and I’d hate to-”

“Did Basira also sing or did she play something?”

“She, uh- She played the, um, eclectic bass.”

“Neat! I’d love to hear you two play together sometime.”
Martin had a very pleasant smile on his face as he spoke, but his eyes were locked on Tim and there was something so obviously fake about his inquiries.

Jon shredded a paper napkin nervously. This was going to be so awkward to explain to Basira.

Eventually Tim was so drunk he was having a hard time staying upright, at which point Jon and Martin decided to come rescue him.

They helped him home, suspended between them, although it was Martin who was doing all of the heavy lifting. Jon was just helping keep Tim steady and guiding them to the drunk man’s flat.
By the time they arrived, Tim had already cycled through being a happy drunk, to an angry drunk to a sad one. Jon got the door open while Martin was full on carrying Tim bridal style (Jon didn’t care how Martin was holding Tim, not in the least) while the inebriated man whimpered about Sasha.

Once he was settled on his couch with fluids and some crackers, he passed out, leaving Martin and Jon alone together.

“Is he going to be alright here?” Martin asked while looking at their sleeping friend.

“He’ll be fine. Not the first time he’s been like this.”

“Alright then.” Martin grabbed a blanket off of the floor and used it to tuck Tim in on the couch. “Tonight was fun. I know going out isn’t really your thing, it’s not mine either, really. But still, it was nice.”

“I suppose it was.” Jon admitted. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling fondly at the sight of his drunk friend’s drooling face all swaddled with blankets and smooshed into a throw pillow.

“Maybe we’ll be able to convince Tim to have a stay at home hang out. It was a little bumpy before but we could always give a game night another go.”

“I’m not opposed to games, just not always in the mood.”

“Fair, fair.” Martin looked around the messy flat. “How are we going to leave him here with his keys and lock the door behind us?”

“Oh.” Jon’s ear twitched under his scarf. “I’ll just do what I did last time. You can use the door, I’ll lock it from the inside and go out the window.”

The larger man turned to him, both brows raised. “Out the window? But there’s no-?”

“It’s not a far jump. I’m a cat, cats are good at jumping.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Martin checked on Tim one last time before heading for the front door. “See you at the crosswalk?”

“See you at the crosswalk.”

They did see each other at the crosswalk and got to walk together for a short amount of time before they had to part ways.

“Well, I turn here. Good night Martin.” Jon pointed in the direction he was headed while Martin was still facing the same way he had been.

“Oh, right. Good night, Jon.” There was something in Martin’s smile that felt a little incomplete, like something unsaid, but Jon didn’t feel that it was the right time to press him.
Instead he gave a small wave and turned his back to his friend. He was going to have to take Martin up on the offer of a game night sometime. Once Sasha was home maybe.

Chapter Text

Jon had his office door open and could hear all of the going ons in the archives. His ears were out and he was wearing his most comfortable skirt. It was getting cold in the archives as it got later in the year and in addition to his button up and vest he had a shawl draped around him.
Martin had some music playing on his computer, something that mostly consisted of guitar and vocals, and he could hear Tim humming along from the bullpen.
Weirdly enough, today they were doing okay.

Until she arrived.

First he heard the groan of the stairs and reached for a bandana, then as he was securing it over his ears he felt it.

He was prey.

He was prey and whoever had just come into the archives was hunting him.
His blood rushed in his ears and his whole body sang with adrenaline.

He heard Tim greet the newcomer, his voice warm and jovial. There was a response, too quiet to make out the words but the voice was sharp smooth like a scalpel through flesh.
Jon tried to calm himself, ignore his racing heart and resist the urge to jump from his desk and sprint away. Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't natural, and whoever was about to walk into the room couldn’t know that he knew they weren’t human, otherwise they might realize the same about him.

“He’s right in here.” Tim’s voice carried from just out of sight.

“Thanks.” Hearing the predator’s voice more clearly spiked his urge to run, but he grit his teeth and stayed seated.

When the source of his fear came into view he managed to have the presence of mind to be surprised at what he was seeing.
He hadn’t been expecting a cop, although after thinking about it it did make sense.
He also hadn’t been expecting a woman several inches shorter than himself with a surprisingly soft and unassuming face. Her blonde hair only fell to her jaw and her eyes were such a dull shade of blue they looked grey. Her most intimidating feature was the scar that began under her right eye and ended just on the other side of her nose.

They locked eyes.

This would be the part where one of them introduced themselves, but instead he was frozen and she was assessing.
Her nostrils flared and he swallowed nervously.
“Jonathan Sims?”

He nodded. “Yes.”
With a shaking hand he reached for the tape recorder.
“You don’t mind if I record this, do you?” If he was about to die he wanted proof of what happened.

The woman tilted her head to one side. “Knock yourself out.”

“Right.”

“Course, if anyone else ever hears it…”

“You’ll arrest me?” He said hopefully.

“No.”

“Oh.” That didn’t bode well. “R-right, uh. Did you, um- are you Detective Tonner?”

She didn’t reply.

“Basira mentioned you.” Maybe talking about Basira would save him.
It seemed to do the trick because the predator then sat in the chair across the desk from him, leaned back with her arms folded over her chest and pinned him with a stare that would put Elias to shame.
Talking seemed like the best way to get out of this situation, so that’s what he did. “So, uh, did you come to deliver one of the tapes?”

She didn’t reply.

“From Basira?”

She didn’t reply.

“The, um, the audio tapes?”

She didn’t reply.

“Can-can I have it?”

“I’m thinking.”

Oh thank god, that is why she’s here.

Jon did his best to fold his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting, something he always did when nervous or bored.
“Um, right, I thought you needed me to check them?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her expression never changed as she needled him with the question.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The tapes. Why she was giving them to you.”

“She, uh... she wanted my help.” And maybe because we’re friends, a little part of him wanted to say.

The predator laughed a soft and mirthless laugh, finally breaking her intense stare as she shook her head slightly.

“You don’t have a tape player at your station.” He rationalized.

“She thought you did it.”

“What?” Jon felt a little like she had slapped him.

“We both did.” she said with a little shrug.

“You thought I killed Gertrude?” The notion that he might have been his mother’s killer made him want to retch. There was no way they could know his connection to Gertrude, but then why had Basira agreed to try and find Michael with him if she thought he was a murderer?
It was a horrible revelation despite making perfect sense and suddenly this fight or flight instinct that had been raging in him was overridden by crushing dejection.

The woman, Detective Tonner presumably, narrowed her eyes at him when she noticed the way he deflated.
“Yes, because honestly look at you. You’re obsessed with it, jumpy as hell and you’re the only person who benefited from her death.”

He wanted to snap at her that he hadn’t benefited from her death at all and that she had been his mother and to shut up. But he didn’t.
“I-I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” The woman sighed.
“Finally got IT to clean up the CCTV for the week she disappeared. No cameras in the Archive, but we got plenty of footage of you. Watched your movements that whole week. You didn’t kill her.”

“And what about the tapes?”

“We thought you did it, but didn’t have enough to hold you. Basira thought you were going to run.”
She fixed him with that unnerving gaze again. “Thought you already had run when no one could find you after the body was found. When you turned back up we had to make sure you had a reason to stick around.”

“So you fed me a few tapes to keep me around?”

“Yeah.”

“And now that you know I’m innocent?”

“Hm. I reckon we should cut you off. But Basira’s soft. She likes you. No idea why.” Hearing that Basira liked him was nice, even if he had just found out she had thought he might be a murderer. Although Tonner hadn’t mentioned when he had been missing in the Distortion. With this new insight he would have thought that would have sent them into a panic, but maybe Basira had never told her partner. Maybe Basira thought more highly of him than he had thought.
“Maybe she keeps feeding you tapes. Doesn’t involve me. I don’t plan on seeing or hearing anything about it.“

“Um, well, thank you, Detective Tonner.”

“Daisy.” She corrected him with more aggression than he thought warranted.

“Thank you Daisy.”

She grunted a response and shifted in her seat in a way that signaled that she was about to leave when a thought occurred to him.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been sectioned now?“

“I do mind.” All of her attention was back on him. “Fourteen years.”

Oh. Something just happened.

Daisy was looking at him so intently and quizzically and it felt like there was static in the air.
They both knew something unnatural just happened, they were both not entirely human.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to make a statement?” He pressed.

“About what?”

“Whatever you like. Fourteen years…..you must have seen any number of paranormal things.”

“And you want me to tell you about them?”

Jon could feel it before he even said it, that static building in the air again. “Yes.”

Daisy didn’t move. “Okay.”

“Okay. Do you need me to go over our non-disclosure policies?”

“Not as long as you understand my policy. If it gets out, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

He nodded. Worse things could happen to his bones. Worse things had happened to his bones.

“Statement of Detective Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner-”

She told him her story featuring several characters he had heard of before, including a coffin he had also heard tale of.
When she finished Daisy looked shocked for a moment.

“Are you alright?” He asked carefully but he could still feel the static in the air.

“No. I never told that story to anyone except my old Sergeant.”

“I-I’m not sure I-”

“I should go.” Daisy stood.

“Right I-” Normally he would offer to see her out but there was something off about her, in many ways. “Well, it’s just that there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask Basira but you might know better-”

“No. No more questions, I’m done.”

“Oh, yes, it’s just... Do you know anything about vampires?”

Daisy stopped, cold eyes boring into him.
“Yes.” She said the word like it was a murder confession.

“A while back there were some problems: arrest irregularities around a few missing person cases; suspects being released without proper interrogation. Recordings of the interviews showed the subject wouldn’t say a word, but the officers doing the interview would let them go on anyway. I don’t know the details of the investigation, but there’s an operating procedure now.”

Jon’s heart was racing. Daisy, for as much as she frightened him, was a treasure trove of practical knowledge.

“Which would be?”

“Cases matching certain parameters have to be monitored by another officer outside the room via video. In the very specific circumstance where the suspect says nothing, but the interrogating officer acts as though they have, they’re immediately removed from the room. Then they call me.”

“And you take care of them?”

She nodded. “I cuff the suspect’s hands and legs, drive them out into the middle of Epping Forest and burn them to ashes. There’s never enough left to be a problem. I don’t know if they’re vampires, exactly, but that’s what we call them.“

“There are others that call them that too.”

“And what would you know about that?” her eyes narrowed.

“I hear about this stuff for a living.”

Daisy grunted, seeming to accept that answer.
“Don’t tell Basira. She doesn’t know about that procedure. I’m not sure how much she’d understand. She- she’s not cut out for that kind of work.”

“I won’t.”

Daisy swallowed hard and inhaled deeply through her nose before turning her back to him. “Don’t tell her any of this, okay? I was never here. If she wants to get you more tapes, that’s her business, but you keep this visit to yourself. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Then she left, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

He heard Tim say something to her in passing, probably a farewell, before he appeared in the doorway, brightly colored button down and all.
“So what was that about?” His expression shifted to concern when he saw the wide eyed look of fear on Jon’s face.

“Geeze boss, what’s the matter?”

“There’s something very wrong with that cop.”

“Other than her stink eye?”

“Dear Lord.” Jon rubbed his face. “I felt like I was locked in a cage with an untrained hunting dog.”

“Yikes.”

“A part of me feels like I should warn Basira, but that also might be a terrible idea.”

“Basira knows her?”

Jon nodded. “That’s her partner.”

“Double yikes. Figured she’d have better taste in women.”

Jon’s brows pinched together. “No, like, police partners.”

Tim just shrugged. “Either way. Be careful alright? If being around Basira means being around that, well…. Pick your battles wisely.”
Jon started to draw in a breath when Tim spoke up again. “Not that you ever have before, just maybe you could start?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He took a moment to bask in the silence of the archives and the absence of scary cops when the sound of heavy footsteps approaching ruined the moment.
Tim was still standing in the doorway and leaned back to see what was happening. “Hey, Marto. What’s the matter?”

Martin’s face appeared a second later. “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but there’s a bat in the archives.”

“A bat?” Tim asked curiously.

“A bat?!?” Jon asked with alarm.

“Like, the animal?” Tim craned his neck past Martin trying to get clarification.

“Yes, like, a little brown bat.”

“Cool, where?” Tim was out and looking for it while Jon was scrambling to find something to use as an extra layer of defense.

“By the historical section.” Martin stepped back out after Tim. “Be careful, don’t hurt it.”

“I’m not going to!” He called from out of sight.

“Don’t let it bite you! It might have rabies!” Jon shouted after them.

“The odds of this particular bat having rabies is very low.” He could hear the shifting of cardboard boxes.

“But not impossible.” He muttered as he followed his assistants.

Tim had grabbed an empty box that he presumably was going to use to catch the bat and Martin had the blanket from the breakroom and was holding it up like a shield. Jon had a yardstick and he was ready to use it.
He followed the other two to where Martin had seen the bat.

True to his word, there perched on the exit sign over the door to the historical section, was a little brown bat.
The three of them huddled together while looking up at it with their makeshift tools.

“It’s not moving.” Tim commented.

“It’s daytime, it’s probably trying to sleep.” Martin offered while holding his blanket a little higher.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Jon looked at their tools in turn. A yardstick, a blanket and a box.

“I can put the box over it, but with it sitting on the sign like that someone will need to use the blanket to make sure it can’t get out when I move it off of the sign.”
Tim was pulling over a step stool as he spoke.

“Is anyone vaccinated for rabies?” Even while Martin was asking, Tim was shaking his head.

“Can’t say the rabies vaccine has been high on my priority list recently.”

“I don’t think I’ve been vaccinated since I was a kitten.” Jon flicked his tail as he watched the bat.

“Well I’m not.” Martin mumbled as he watched Tim set the step stool under the sign.

“I’ve got the box, Martin you’re the tallest one so you use the blanket to keep it in, Jon-” He looked at his boss. “Be ready.”

With that Tim slammed the box over the bat. There was a beat where no one moved and it was silent before Martin got into position and Tim began to slide the box down. Martin reached up with the blanket to cover the gap as it appeared.
Everything was going smoothly until there was a soft clicking sound from within the box and Martin startled, jerking enough that he made a gap big enough for the bat to fall through.
The poor creature landed on the floor at their feet and began to flap away.
Jon saw something small and vulnerable struggling on the floor and did what cats are wont to do and tried to pounce on it.

“Jon! NO!”

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Martin realized what his boss was doing in time and caught the man mid lunge, but couldn’t quite keep his balance in the process. He staggered into Tim who dropped his box before tripping on the edge of the blanket, and all at once all three of them were piled on each other on the floor.

The bat flew to a crevice in one of the shelves to hide.

“Not the best execution of the plan.” Tim grumbled as he sat up.

“Sorry.” Martin said sheepishly. “It started making noises and I freaked out a little.”

“We noticed.” Jon wiggled out from the pile of limbs and onto his feet, smacking Martin in the face with his tail in the process. “Sorry.”

“Now what?” Tim asked as he two got to his feet.

“It’s in there.” Jon pointed to where he last saw the bat.

“How are we supposed to get it now?” Martin had also managed to get to his feet.
Jon just brandished the yardstick in response.

“Don’t hurt it!” Martin cried.

“I’m just going to try and coax it out is all.”
The wooden tool only got within a few inches of where he thought the little creature was when that same angry clicking could be heard again and Jon hissed at it in turn.

“Oh my god, move.” Tim all but shoved Jon out of the way and fitted the box over the opening of the crevice. “There, now someone get some tape to secure this. I’ll move the shelf and catch it with the blanket from the back.”

They were in the process of moving the shelf when Elias walked in on them.
“What are you-?”

Upon hearing Elias’ voice, Martin threw the blanket over Jon because his ears were out and Tim jerked his head up, jostling the shelf as he was moving it. The disturbance caused the bat to flee its current hiding spot and it flew directly at Elias.
Bouchard screamed like a child, Jon trashed under the blanket and finally, as the bat circled around Tim held up the cardboard box and caught it.

As he frantically closed the box and hugged it to his chest, even as the sound of scrambling and chittering could be heard from inside of it, Jon’s face appeared from under the blanket and Elias regained his composure somewhat.

“I came down here to see how work has been progressing since our meeting only to find you three doing god knows what.”

“We’re catching a bat.” Tim said, holding up the box.

“So it would seem.” Elias checked to make sure his reading glasses were still in his shirt pocket and smoothed his rumpled clothes.

“I hope it’s not all been bat chasing down here.”

“Only for the last twenty minutes or so?” Martin offered as he helped Jon off of the floor, the blanket still draped over his head and shoulders like a cloak.

“I’m taking this outside, unless you want it?” Tim seemed to be offering the box and its contents to Elias, who literally turned up his nose at it.

“No thank you, Mr. Stoker.”

“Suit yourself.” Tim bustled past him with the box.

“Moral seems to have improved down here if nothing else.” Elias turned his attention to Jon. “Hopefully the work as well. Provided there aren’t any more bats I’ll leave you all to it.”

Much to their relief he turned and left the archives without any fuss. Apparently there was a limit to his fake politeness when recovering from an attempted bat attack.
When he was out of sight and presumably earshot, Jon and Martin both sighed in relief.

“That was embarrassing.” The redhead said with a chuckle.

“But at least the bat is gone.”

“True, the bat is gone.”

With a deep breath Jon shrugged off the blanket and gave his ears a rub. “Well, we best get back to work.”

“Right, right.”

They scattered as they each returned to their respective tasks and Jon just hoped there was no more excitement for the day. He just wanted to read transcripts, was that so much to ask for?

Near the end of the day Jon brought a few files to Tim so he could start them the next day.

“Here’s tomorrow’s work. Figured if you’re done with your tasks for the day you could give these a look over so you know what you’re in for.”

“Thanks boss.” Tim flipped through them while leaning back and putting his feet on his desk.
It was anything and everything even remotely related to the Distortion that he could find, and a lot of it was a stretch at best, but it also featured his own notes and references to old statements including case #0032408.
Before he left he noticed the frog tier list they had made while out open in a small window on Tim’s computer. The sight made him smile, but his smile quickly turned to a frown when he noticed what else was on Tim’s desk.

“Tim! Why do you have that!” Jon took a step back.

“Hmm?” Tim followed his gaze and grinned as he realized what his boss was upset about. “Oh! Found him in the parking lot when I was letting the bat out.” He held up a paperclip box that now contained some dirt and a little frog.

“Tim.” Jon groaned, coming very close to emulating the tone of voice Sasha had often used. “We do not need more animals in the archives, please put it outside.”

“It’s getting cold out!” His assistant protested and held a hand over the box protectively. The frog, for its part, seemed very content to sit in the little box.

“Look, just keep it from getting loose. I can’t guarantee I won’t pounce on it if it’s hopping around.”

“Ah. Fair point. I’ll take care of it boss, no need to worry!” Tim gave a two finger salute and turned his attention back to his computer.

Jon sighed and returned to his office to finish up for the day. All in all, the frog was the least of his worries.

Chapter Text

Jon was furiously adding notes to his binder about Gerard Keay, Mary Keay and Gertrude. The tape from Daisy had a particularly interesting recording on it, and once he was done notating everything there was one more aspect of it that he had to follow up on.
He finished in the binder and did his supplemental recording.

At the tail end of it he stood from his desk and walked to a section of the floor between his chair and the door and knelt.
“There’s one thing that hasn't changed in the eight years since this statement was given. There's never been any reason to look closely at a random section of floor. This bit wasn't even breached by any of the worms.”

Pressing and feeling the boards revealed that some of them lifted away.
“Because it had Gertrude's hidden compartment beneath it. There’s not skin page, but-”
He pulled out the laptop that he had been thinking about for weeks with reverence. “I found her laptop. And a key. I wonder what it opens? End supplemental.”

He turned off his recorder and sat with the laptop, his heart pounding in his chest.

Opening it revealed that it was dead, no surprise there. There was something comical to finding an important piece of the puzzle only to have to wait to get answers while it charged.
He plugged it in and tucked it between some boxes to charge while he got on with his work day.

~

Jon was making copies of some police records for an old case when he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. He slapped his hand on the wall where he had seen it and paused. He didn’t feel anything under his hand but he didn’t see it moving anymore.

He took a step back from the photocopier to look around. Whatever it was it had been small and fast and the strangest thing was that it had been a very noticeable red.

There!

It was darting along the floor!

Jon pounced, slamming both hands on where he was certain it was.

He stayed still, on his hands and knees, tail twitching and ears perked up. Slowly he drew his hands back to reveal the thin office carpet and nothing more.
He chirped in confusion as he examined his hands and the floor as he was certain he had caught it.

A snorting laugh came from his right and he looked up to see Tim leaning against one of the filing cabinets, a hand over his mouth and shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Jon shrank back in horror when he noticed the laser pointer his assistant was holding.
“Tim!” he cried, mortified.

“Sorry!” His friend was fully laughing now. “I didn’t even know if you’d react, but-”

He wiped a mirthful tear from his face as he gasped for breath. “Oh my god. I- I can’t breathe.”

“Good.” Jon scrambled to his feet. “I hope you suffocate.”

The red dot reappeared on Jon’s skirt and without thinking he hissed and slapped it. Of course it didn’t do anything except to make him feel more foolish and cause Tim to further devolve into hysteria.
Jon’s whole face was burning with embarrassment as he turned tail and fled the scene, completely abandoning the copies he was making.

Tim wheezed something from the floor about being sorry.
Jon didn’t wait to listen to whatever it was, he just stomped back to his office to sulk.

When the lunch hour arrived there was a single knock on his door before Tim entered with some Tupperware.

“Here’s an apology lunch for the whole laser pointer thing.”
He set the containers on the desk. “Pork chops with lots of gravy, since I remember Sasha saying you really loved my gravy.”

Jon couldn’t hide a little smile as he reached for the Tupperware. “It’s fine, just- Thank you.”

Tim winked and gave a two finger salute before leaving.

As Jon ate his lunch, something he didn’t do nearly enough, he purred.
The gravy was excellent.

~

After the fourteenth failed password attempt Jon sighed and set the laptop aside. He took off his frames and rubbed his eyes.

He was sitting on the floor of his office leaning against his desk, a position he was adopting more and more frequently. Being on the floor let him sprawl and move his tail much more comfortably than sitting in a chair all day did.

He had once made the mistake of taking one of the larger cardboard boxes and sitting in it until Tim saw him and teased him mercilessly.
The age old mantra of ‘if I fits I sits’ still applied to him it would seem.

He stretched out on the floor to ease his poor, achy back before reaching for one of his many recorders. Hadn’t he started off with one? When did he get more?

He gave his head a little shake before pressing record.
“Supplemental. I have been attempting to access Gertrude’s laptop, but have thus far had no luck. None of the obvious passwords I’ve tried have been successful and I am unsure who can provide both assistance and discretion.”

He frowned at his phone where he could see his unanswered texts to Basira.
“There may be further clues on the other tapes, but so far, I’ve had no word from Basira. I’m so close to finding something, maybe I should just go down-” He was interrupted by the sound of loud laughter from outside of the office. It sounded like Tim. Jon was about to get back to his supplemental when he noticed the sound of someone else laughing as well, and their voice was somewhat familiar.

He grabbed his scarf because if there was one thing he had learned over the last year was that anytime someone came to visit the archives they would barge into his office.
Sure enough, a second later his door opened and there stood Melanie King.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” She said as her eyes landed on him and she tilted her head to the side. “What are you doing down there?”

“I’m working.”

“On the floor?”

“The floor is very comfortable, I'll have you know.”

Melanie shrugged a little. “Sure, whatever. But honestly are you alright? You don’t look great.”

He did not look great, he had bags under his eyes and he was covered in worm scars.

“Yes, it’s just been…. A stressful few months.” He considered getting up but decided against it. Why should he get up when she was the one interrupting him? “Is there something I can help you with, Miss King?”

“Okay, wow. No need to be an asshole.”

He wasn’t being an asshole. That was just his voice.

“Anyway,” She continued. “I actually do. I need access to your library.”

“You’ll want to talk to Diana, she runs the place. Or Martin, he used to work there so he might be able to help.”

“Yes, I don’t exactly have the academic credentials you guys demand. So I apparently need someone to vouch for me, and you’re basically the closest thing I have to a friend here.”

“Oh.” He blinked at her. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

Melanie looked a little annoyed at his assumption. “I’ve met worse people. Also, uh, Georgie actually has some nice things to say about you.”

Jon immediately perked up. He hadn’t talked to Georgie in years, and he hadn’t been happy with the way things ended between them, but it was good to hear about her.

“You talked to Georgie? How is she?”

“She’s uh,” Melanie seemed to be wrestling with her usual short temperedness and a sudden fondness that Jon could only assume was for Georgie.

“She’s good.” she managed at last. “‘What the Ghost’ is doing well and she seemed happy and healthy. Has a super cute cat.”

Ah yes, The Admiral.

Jon had loved the little guy, but his presence had made things rather awkward towards the end. When Georgie finally asked him about the cat thing and he had told her the whole story, she hadn’t really been able to grapple with it. He always thought it must have been hard for her to think of him the same after, and there was something about coming home to a regular house cat everyday that made it even more confusing for her.
To make matters worse he hadn’t reacted well to her reaction and, well it had been a bit of a mess.

“I’ve met The Admiral, years back.”

“Oh yeah? He’s a stinker, isn’t he?”

“Most assuredly.”

They were both smiling now, which was a huge improvement from their last interaction.

“You need access to the library, right?” At long last he pushed up from the floor as Melanie nodded.

“I’m surprised your showbiz friends can’t help you out.”

When he made the comment her mood immediately soured again.
“No…. Most of them won’t talk to me anymore.”

As he pulled up his email to send one to Diana he couldn’t help but let out a self righteous snort.
“What happened? Did word get out that you’d given a statement to us? What was it you said to Tim on your way out? Something about credulous idiots?”

She gave him a dirty look but answered anyway. “Not exactly... look, in my business your reputation is all that you have. The industry’s mainly full of skeptics pretending to be believers pretending to be skeptics.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is charlatans.” Jon would be the first to admit that he wasn’t a fan of the way a lot of ghost hunters and paranormal investigators treated the phenomena. He existed because of forces beyond comprehension and reason, and what had happened to him in his youth influenced his every life choice and colored each aspect of his life. When he saw people playing it up for a camera and sensationalizing the paranormal it made him sick.

“Can you not? Please? I’m too... look, Ghost Hunt UK split up. I mean, not formally, but... well, you know, Pete was always a flake to begin with, and the others just drifted away.” Melanie sounded rather dejected and despite himself he felt a little bad.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I did notice you weren’t updating anymore.” He had been keeping an eye on the channel since they had first met.

Melanie sighed and glared at her feet for lack of anyone or anything to properly take her frustration out on.
“I tried to get a new crew together, but it was tough. I took to going on expeditions solo, but I don’t really have the skills to get usable footage. I saw a few weird things. Then I... then I got arrested.”

He inclined his head curiously. “Go on.”

“Yes, I, um... I broke into the train graveyard up near Rotherham, got picked up by security and I- I wasn’t doing well. When I was being thrown out, some late night dog walker got a video of me screaming at them about ghosts, and when it went online…”

“Oh. I see.”

“Yeah, not a great look.”

“For what it’s worth I am sorry. I know how these things can really get to someone. I’ve got an email halfway drafted but honestly if you want I’ll head up to the library with you now.”

Melanie perked up. “Really? That’d be great.”

“Yes, let me just-” He put Gertrude’s laptop away in the spot on the shelf he had made for it, tucked between folders so it was hard to notice but easy to reach. If Melanie thought anything of it she didn’t say and they made their way through the bullpen. Tim made finger guns at them and Melanie made a disgusted scoff and rolled her eyes.
Jon gave his assistant the side eye before addressing Melanie. “What’s he on about now?”

“He thinks he’s funny.”

“Oh I’m aware.”

“Are you aware that he’ll flirt with anything that moves?”

Jon opened one of the heavy doors to the stairs and let her go first.
“Very much so, although he’s been less frivolous with it recently.”

Melanie was going so fast up the stairs that he had to jump up the first few to keep up with her.
“Well when I came the first time I ended up talking to him and Sasha on the way out and mentioned my dating preferences and all was good, but now he wants to give me advice on how to pick up chicks because he’s an expert apparently.”

“Just pay him no mind, that’s his way of being helpful.”

“I’m aware that it is, he seems like a fun guy if you have the patience for him. If I had to work with him though I might end up stabbing him.”

Jon laughed at that. “I’ve thought the same thing.” He had actually accidentally stabbed Tim recently, which made the interaction funnier in his opinion.

Melanie made a stabbing gesture with thin air. “I bet I’d be good at it. And now that I’ve lost my reputation I might as well go full psycho.”

“As annoying as he is, there are people who deserve to be stabbed much more than Mr. Stoker, I assure you.”

“You’re probably right, and anyhow Sasha seems to like him and I don’t really want to upset her.”

Jon’s breath hitched a little and while he tried to respond the words died on his lips.

“Something the matter?” She asked.

“Sasha…. I don’t know if you’ve heard but there was an incident in July…”

“You didn’t fire her, did you?”

“No. There was an infestation and in the chaos she went missing. She hasn’t been seen since.”

Melanie’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean the whole thing with the parasitic worms? That was here?”
Jon nodded.

“Is that where Tim got those round scars?”

“Yes. We both have them, he just tends to show more skin than I do.”

“Fuck. That’s-. That must have been… And Sasha’s missing.”

He swallowed thickly and only managed to nod again.
They walked the rest of the way to the library in silence.
He talked Diana into letting Melanie have access and then turned to her one last time.

“Well, good luck Ms. King.”

“As to you, Mr. Sims.”

“If you see Georgie, tell her I say hi.”

“When I next see Georgie I’m going to organize a night for us all to get drinks.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Never mind, I’m un-inviting you.” She made a face at him but there was a teasing tone in her words, and he got the distinct impression that he was actually still invited.

“Good.” He smiled at her as he pretended to be insulted and turned to leave. “I didn’t want to come anyway.”

“Fine by me. Bye.” Her response could be described as snippy, but she was also smiling.

“Bye.”

He left her in the library and it occurred to him that he might have made a friend.

Chapter Text

Monday:
Tim called in sick. Martin did as much follow up and research for the current case as he could on his own.
He couldn’t convince Jon to take a lunch break.

Tuesday:
Tim came back to work and helped Martin with the cases he was working on. He had never been sick.

Wednesday:
Basira came to the archives and she seemed upset. She went into Jon’s office and left shortly after.
Jon was in a sullen mood for the rest of the day.
As much as it shamed Martin to admit it, he was rather pleased.

Thursday:
The three of them ate lunch together and talked about the cases they were working on, but only the discredited ones.

Friday:
Tim went to artifact storage.
He asked around and apparently Michael had just left for the day.

Saturday:
Martin texted Jon to see if he wanted to come over for tea.
He didn’t respond.

Sunday:
Jon texted him back saying he was busy, but maybe some other time.

Monday:
Martin realized Jon had slept in his office overnight.

Tuesday:
Tim and Jon discussed how to get back into the tunnels. Martin made them tea and Jon looked guilty.

Wednesday:
Jon had a woman come to give a statement and was in a very good mood after she left.

Thursday:
Jon hardly said a word to either Martin or Tim. He looked guilty again.

Friday:
Jon called Martin and Tim into his office.

There was no denying that they were more or less just going through the motions when it came to work. Yes they were doing their work, but it was robotic and without Tim putting his whole heart and other parts of him into his field work they often weren’t getting all of the information they should.
But at least they were doing the work and it had been enough that Elias hadn’t felt the need to have any more meetings or send any emails about it.

When Jon came into the bullpen an hour before the end of the work day and asked the two of them to come into his office while looking grim, they shared a worried look and hoped it was about some company policy they weren’t adhering to.
Jon let them both enter before he shut the office door and moved next to his desk but didn’t sit. Martin noted that there was something very deliberate about his movements that matched his mournful expression. Whatever this was about it wasn’t an email from Elias.

Tim shuffled his feet against the wooden floor and Martin could tell he was fighting the urge to tell a joke to try and ease the oppressive atmosphere.
Jon ran a hand along the wood of his desk before taking a deep breath and breaking the silence.
“We all know this job isn’t normal.”

“No duh.” Tim rolled his eyes but Martin could see some of the tension leave his shoulders after finally being able to say something sassy.

“Right, yes,” Jon continued. “When Prentiss first trapped Martin and we started seeing her worms around the archives we discussed what the best course of action would be. We agreed on what we should do but that at the time it wasn’t safe to.”

Suddenly Martin realized what was happening. He glanced at Tim to see the other man blinking rapidly, something he did when trying to comprehend shocking new information. He was putting it together as well it would seem.
As their brains caught up Jon kept talking. “Now we’re not actively under threat but things are still dangerous-”

“Don’t you dare.” Tim hissed.

“-and I can’t help but feel responsible. -”

“Jon, No.” Martin pleaded.

“-And that’s why……” Jon paused and the silence was deafening.

“T-that’s why…..” Jon’s eyes widened and he glanced around the room as if trying to regain his train of thought.

“You’re both…” He swallowed, suddenly breathing harder.

“You’re both…F-” Jon bit his lower lip to make the “ffff” sound but nothing followed. “I- I can’t.” His eyes fell to the floor. “I can’t do it.”

“Jesus.” Tim spat. “The fuck, Jon? You were really going to fire us? After everything?”

“No, Tim I-”

“God, what a stunt. You’re lucky I have other shit to worry about or I’d really let you have it.”

“Tim, what I’m trying to-” Jon was starting to look genuinely distressed, and not in an ashamed, ‘I almost fired my friends’ way.

Martin held a hand up to try and get Tim to pause. “Jon, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t fire you, either of you. But what I mean is I can’t.”

Martin and Tim exchanged a confused look. “Like can’t can’t?”

They could both see the gears turning in Jon’s head and the fear in his eyes. “I can’t fire you and I don’t think any of us can quit.”

“What do you mean?” Martin was sorely hoping that he wasn’t grasping the situation correctly and there was something else going on.

“I mean we can’t leave.” Jon’s eyes were wide and he was looking past both of them.

Tim wrinkled his nose. “That can’t be right. I mean I’ll just…. I… I, uh.” A sort of horror settled over him as he realized what Jon meant.

“Oh good lord.” Jon covered his eyes with one hand and they could see his mirthless smile under it. “Of course. Why else would we stay despite everything? It’s not just curiosity or loyalty.”
Martin had typed up several resignation letters when he had been living in the archives, but had assumed his inability to submit them had been indecision or fear of what might happen if he left. If Jon was right then they were all trapped.

“What does this mean?” he asked, looking between the two other men. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know what it means.” Jon admitted. “And I think we just do the only thing we can, which is keep working.”

“This is so fucked.” Tim was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I almost didn’t come back after Prentiss, not without Sasha. I thought I didn’t go through with quitting because I didn’t want to give up on her. Turns out I’m not that good of a person after all.”

“Tim….”

“No Martin. Even now I want out. I don’t want to get fired because that’s shitty-” He glared at Jon. “-But I don’t want to keep doing this. I wouldn’t want to leave either of you alone in this, but if I could get out….” He shook his head and let the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

Martin couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like things had been easy lately. He looked back at their boss.
“What made you decide to try firing us?”

Jon curled in on himself looking very ashamed.

“Jon.”

The shorter man sighed and pulled something from the shelf on the other side of this desk. “I found Gertrude’s laptop.”

“Where did you get that???” Tim asked.

“And when???” Martin added.

“I uh, I may have broken into her apartment a while back.”

They both gave him looks that were equal parts shocked and disapproving.

“It was before we had the ‘don’t do dangerous stuff’ talk!” Jon set it on the desk and opened it, angling the screen so they could both see as he opened some folders. “Besides, I only just got into it, and well… Just look.”

There was a spreadsheet open with what looked to be budget information on it as well as a lot of online order receipts and some other windows Martin would need to scroll through to know what they were.
“This is a travel budget.” Jon showed off the spreadsheet. “All of these trips were approved. These are some of her online purchases. Look at what she was buying and how much of it, and there’s a lot of filing equipment that I’ve seen around the archives, which supports your theory Tim.”

“What theory is that?” Martin looked between them.

“That Gertrude messed up the archives on purpose.” Tim looked grim as he looked over what Jon was showing them.

Their boss nodded as he pulled the laptop back. “It calls into question what she was doing and why she was killed. There’s just- There’s just so much happening here and I’m only scratching the surface, but whatever this-” he gestured to the laptop, “-is, it’s dangerous. I’m in too deep, but I thought maybe I could get you two out.” Jon gave a hollow laugh. “But I can’t even do that.”

“Hey, what’s this one?” Tim moved towards the screen, his head tilted to the side.

“She was buying Lietners.”

“Damn.”

“Yes. It’s more than a little concerning. I can’t help but think that so long as we work in the archives we’re going to continue having encounters with monsters.”

Tim ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. “Well shit.”

Martin felt a little light headed with all of the new information, and he was still feeling a little nauseous after almost being fired. In a split second he remembered something and felt a hot flare of anger rise from his stomach to his mouth.
“You promised!” He snapped at his boss and saw both Jon and Tim jump at his tone.

“I- What are you-?” Jon was clearly blanking on what Martin was talking about.

“You promised not to fire me!”

“Oh!” The shorter man stiffened with realization and then shrank in on himself out of shame. “Oh, right. I did, didn’t I?”

“You promised Martin you wouldn’t fire him and then you tried to?” Tim sounded pissed.

“I wasn't thinking about that it was just that-”

“What a dick move.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Martin.” Tim pointed to the redhead.

Jon addressed him instead. “I’m sorry, Martin. I- You know I didn’t- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine. It didn’t even work so…. It’s fine.”

“That just makes it more messed up.” Tim crossed his arms. “He tried to fire us and it just didn’t work. I’ve heard of job security but this is ridiculous.”

“I- um….” Jon shut the laptop and looked at the top of it instead of meeting either of his friend’s gazes. “Well that’s all I wanted to speak to you two about.”

“God damn it.” Tim moved up to their boss and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.” He used his shirt to pull Jon into a hug and clung to him desperately. Martin made eye contact with Jon over Tim’s shoulder and could see them glisten with moisture.
After a long moment the two men parted, the taller of the two taking a deep breath before backing up.

“I’m gonna go.” he croaked.

“Very well. Good night Tim.”

Martin and Jon watched him go before Jon turned to him. “I think you should go home for the night too.”

“I’m fine, I still have to-”

“Martin.” Jon’s voice was quiet but firm. “Go home for the night.”

“Okay.” He began to walk to the bullpen. “Good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

“You need to stop breaking your promises.”

His boss didn’t respond to his last statement, just turned to Gertrude’s laptop instead.
Martin took a breath to calm himself before gathering his things for the night. As it turned out they were stuck with each other, and while a part of him was relieved, it only showcased how out of their depth they were.

No one more than Jon.

Martin could only hope and pray that being the Archivist didn’t drown him.

Chapter Text

“Elias, we need to talk.”

Elias sighed and looked up from his computer monitor. “Evidently, seeing as you’re in my office at eight in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you answered any of my emails.” Jon was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping one foot anxiously and swaying with exhaustion.

Elias leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen impatiently. “This is about the tunnels, isn’t it?”

“It’s getting harder and harder to work down there without being sure of... what’s underneath me.”

“So you want to go and wander around in the dark some more?”

“Are you going to hire someone else to explore down there?”

Mr. Bouchard sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We don’t really have the budget for that.”

Jon tried to draw himself up to stand a little taller, hoping it would make him seem more commanding. “So either give me the key or find a new Archivist.”

Elias scoffed and threw his pen onto the desk. “Oh good Lord, don’t be so dramatic, Jon. You know how hard it would be to replace you.”

Jon pursed his lips a little. “I-I don’t actually. But thank you I suppose.”

“I’ll have a copy made for you, on one condition.” Elias held up one finger to punctuate the statement. “Be careful. No more impetuous subterranean adventures, understand?”

Jon nodded eagerly. “Of course, of course. Understood.”

“And for God’s sake, get some sleep.” Elias waved him out of his office with a shake of his head.

~

“Supplemental. I’m in the tunnels. I was exploring and I got lost.”

Jon shivered in the damp dark of the tunnel, hunched over slightly as he spoke into the recorder. In his haste to get back to searching for Michael or anything else of note he hadn’t properly prepared for his excursion and wound up hopelessly turned around. “I haven’t gone down any of the stairs and I- I think I’m still under the Institute. There were a couple of spiders, so I changed routes and found, I think it’s a gas main. Must be for the whole building.”
There was the sound of footsteps echoing behind him, growing ever closer and in his panicked state it was threatening to make him cry. “But there’s someone coming and I- I don’t know who else would be down here, except...Michael… or I mean, whatever’s down here. I was- I was just checking on the upper levels, I didn’t prepare for-”

“Archivist?” The unmistakable voice of the mysterious Michael Shelley rang through the corridor.

“Michael!” Jon was relieved that it was someone who so far had been somewhat friendly and not some horrible subterranean terror. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing a grotesque monster right at that moment… Like Jurgen Leitner.
Despite being one of the better options of what he could encounter in the tunnels, Michael wasn’t far off from being a heart attack inducing monster considering how his form seemed to warp and twist while at a distance, but better the monster you know than the one you don’t.

“What are you doing down here?” The blonde asked, a slight frown on his face.

“Honestly? Looking for you.”

“You’ve found me, or rather I’ve found you.” Michael chuckled.

“I wanted to let you know that I found Gertrude’s laptop.”

“And?”

“And you know what she was doing. She was traveling all over the world and making…. Unusual purchases. If you would just tell me what she-”

Michael heaved a great sigh. “No, no.” Seeing Jon prepare to speak again he continued. “You really are perfect for the role of Archivist, if a bit shortsighted.” He gave his head a little shake, blonde curls bouncing.

“You have to figure out Gertrude for yourself.” The tall man turned to leave and Jon quickly scrambled to catch up to him.

“Why are you here, Michael?”

The odd man hummed thoughtfully before responding. “I work here. In artifact storage actually, although I don’t think I’m getting paid.”

Jon’s brow creased with thought. “How does that work?”

“A combination of the Distortion and the Stranger sure does do some weird things to an identity.”

“The Stranger?”

Michael laughed, head tilted back and eyes crinkling. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me.”

“No.”

“Bah. Thought as much.”

Michael led them through one of the many random doors within the tunnels and they emerged in a completely different part of them. The shift in location made Jon nervous. If he wanted to, Michael could strand him so hopelessly far underground it might take him days to find his way out if he did at all.

“How do you do that?”

“Distortion.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“It is as far as I’m concerned.”

Jon huffed in annoyance. If Tim were in a better headspace he would probably get on very well with Michael.
“So why are you hanging out in the tunnels?”

“They’re confusing and I like that.”

“That actually makes sense.”

The blonde frowned. “I’m not keen on making sense.”

“I’ve noticed.”
Jon looked up and realized they were directly below the trapdoor that led to the archives.

“Here you are, now run along Archivist.”

Michael started to walk away and Jon called after him. “Wait!” He didn’t stop so Jon had to just keep shouting after him. “Do you know how someone can quit the archives?”

Michael paused and then looked over his shoulder at him. “Why do you ask that?”

“I want to get my assistants out. I don’t want them to be involved any more than they have been.”

The blonde smiled and it was strangely genuine despite how sharp it was. “I don’t know, but I will tell you that you’re doing better than her already.”

Without thinking Jon took a step forward. “What did Gertrude do to you?”
The question had forced its way out of him, crawling up his throat and prying his lips open from the inside. Maybe there was some clue that made it all click for him, maybe there was something that made it the obvious question to ask, but if there was Jon couldn’t identify it. It just fell from him like tears. Like something he couldn’t control.

Michael stiffened, and Jon was sure he was going to brush him off again, but rather he answered.
“She fed me to the Distortion.”

“Oh.”

“Good luck, Archivist.” He stepped through a door and was gone.

“Oh, Michael.”

Jon felt a weight settle in his stomach. He knew that odd man hadn’t been lying, his mother had really subjected him to those maddening halls.
He wanted to think she must have had a good reason…. But… he didn’t know Gertrude. He’d never known her. He had no idea what sort of person she had been and the more he found out about her the more he respected her, and thought that she hadn’t been trustworthy.

Better than her.

Did Michael just want him to be…. A better person than her?
He let the new information soak in as he stood under the trap door for a few minutes before climbing up and out.

~

Martin carefully picked up the three mugs of tea, one of which he deposited at his desk and another he brought to Tim. Tim looked up at him while on the phone and made a little heart with his hands when Martin set down the tea, all the while smooth talking his way into a follow up interview.

Jon had been in fair spirits lately, and Tim for his part had burned out somewhat and was now just trying to live his life and do his job.
Martin was immensely grateful for respite from the tension that so often filled the archives. There was something about not being able to quit that really helped them resign themselves to just working through the pain and acting as normal as they each could.

Next he moved to take some tea to Jon, but before he could knock the door knob clicked and Jon almost walked into him.

“Ah! - Oh. Martin.” Jon sighed in relief after jumping a little.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Just brought you some tea.”

“Thank you.” The shorter man took it, a slight smile on his face that made Martin’s heart flutter.

“I still do need to get one of the statement folders from Tim.”

“Right, right.” Martin moved out of his boss’ way and went to absently mindedly sip his own tea while gazing longingly at Jon, until he remembered it was back on his desk.
As they were passing each other while going to their respective stations, Jon’s phone began to vibrate in his skirt pocket. Martin was immediately surprised because Jon was given to having his phone on silent, but then he watched him pull it out and his face shifted from a confused frown to a wide eyed expression of excitement before he answered and all but shouted into it. “Basira!”
Martin felt his heart fall into his feet as Jon hurried to his office while on his phone, hastily telling the woman on the other end to wait one moment and start again.

He looked forlornly at the cup of tea Jon had abandoned on a box of statements in his haste to talk to the police woman.
He limped back to his desk to sulk while Tim watched him quizzically.
“What’s that about?”

“It’s nothing.” He tried to dismiss his friend’s question.

“No.” Tim leaned his elbows on his desk as he squinted at Martin. “What’s got you so upset?”

“Jon just ran off to take a call from Basira.” He tried to sound nonchalant and turned to look at his monitor.

Tim’s eyes darted to the office door briefly. “Well I’m sure they’re just catching up. Even if she’s police that doesn’t mean he’s getting himself into trouble.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged a little. He hadn’t even been thinking about it from that angle, just that he was jealous. Because he was jealous.
“I’m sure you’re right. Now if you don’t mind I have work to do.” He squinted at his screen, very purposely not looking at Tim.

The other man raised one eyebrow at him before mumbling, “Okay, whatever.” and turning back to his own work.
He was only starting to register the words on the screen in front of him again when Jon came out of his office looking grim.
“Hey, Boss. How goes it with ‘Sira?” Tim kept his voice soft and easy since it was clear something was wrong.

“She’s doing some police work that could be dangerous. It’s worrisome.”

Martin forced himself to not think anything horrible with this new information. Instead he tried to offer some comfort. “She seems like a tough woman, I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” Jon looked sadly at his phone before heaving a sigh and looking around for something. His eyes eventually settled on the mug of tea he had left to cool on a box and scooped it up on his way back to his office.

Martin slumped down at his desk, trying his very hardest to not be bothered by what he had just borne witness to, and failing.
Tim rolled over to him, leaning back in his own chair and clicking a pen obnoxiously.
“Hey, Marto.”

The red head looked up.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, and then Jon will cheer up.”

“Right.” Because that was what he was upset about.

Martin resigned himself to buckling down and getting some work done.

~

It was only a couple of days later when Basira appeared in the archives. She was in civilian clothes and her normally stoic face was pinched and weary.
Martin has the misfortune of noticing her first. The creaky stairs made it almost impossible for anyone to sneak into the archives, but if someone was in document storage or reading aloud then the noise could be missed, but he had been sorting through one of the unlabeled filing cabinets by the stairs so there was no way he couldn’t have noticed.

She thrust the doors open by all but falling against the crash bar, and even though he had known someone was coming he hadn’t been expecting such an aggressive entrance. He jumped and she cast a judgmental look his way, which only made him angry.
“I need to talk to Jon.” Was all she said.

Martin had half a mind to tell her to wait there and he would see if Jon had time for her, but before he could be so sassy Jon appeared with wide eyes. “Basira! Are you alright?”

She nodded and her shoulders slumped, all of the hostile tensions she had had moments before melting away to reveal a bone deep exhaustion. “Yeah… Just. Can we talk in your office?”

“Yes, of course.” Jon motioned for Basira to follow him leaving Martin behind to pout in the bullpen. Within two minutes Jon reappeared and hurried to the break room, rummaging around the tea boxes and mug cupboards.

“Um, do you need something, Jon?”

“Oh.” Jon turned his head to look at him, still on his tip toes trying to reach the earl grey. “Just getting Basira some tea.”

Martin managed a weak smile in the hopes of looking pleasant. “I can get you both some. How does she take it?”

“A little sugar, no cream.” Jon made to move past him and leave the break room, but rested a hand on his arm briefly as they passed each other. “Thank you, Martin.”

“Of course.” He tried to fully take in the soft smile that graced Jon’s lips and the way his green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights before the moment was over and his boss was hurrying back to his office.

He made the tea robotically, trying to focus on the motion of pouring the water and measuring the sugar instead of thinking of the woman that Jon was alone with.
Dear Lord, this was stupid. Was he going to have a meltdown every time Jon smiled at someone else?

Martin took a moment to take off his glasses and rub his eyes.
Maybe he was torturing himself for no good reason. He didn’t even know if Jon liked men.

With a sigh he took the tea and headed for the office, only to find his boss waiting outside and picking at his nails. When he spotted him, Jon smiled that soft, heartwarming smile and held out his hands for the mugs. Wordlessly Martin handed them over and Jon mouthed ‘thank you’ at him.

He could have died on the spot. Jonathan Sims had no right being so beautiful.

He might have stood there gawking for hours, except that his boss immediately turned and disappeared behind the door, leaving him to grapple with his adoration and jealousy alone.

~

“You’re really quitting?”

Basira had just finished her story, a harrowing tale of terror and darkness, and now they were sitting across from one another, each with full cups of tea that were growing cold.
“Yeah. And you should too. This place... It’s not right.”

Jon inhaled sharply. “I know, and you’re right. But I can’t.”

Basira’s expression didn’t change, but she met his gaze in an attempt to prompt him to keep going.

“I have to get Sasha back.”

Basira knew she was trapped in The Distortion, whatever that was, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
“Just be careful, okay? A lot of people have lost their lives to this.”

He nodded. “What about the tapes?”

“What?” She was already standing but turned to look back at him.

“The tapes. Fr... from Gertrude’s case. Is there any way I can-?”

“No, I’m sorry Jon.” For what it was worth, she really did look sorry.

But sorry didn’t change the fact that she was gone and he had no more leads.

~

It was near the end of the day when Jon finally came out of his office, head down and looking dejected. Martin felt bad for him, he really did, but a part of him was relieved that it seemed like things with Basira had finally come to an end.

“You okay?” He asked gingerly as his boss hovered in the bullpen looking aimless.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes…. Just….”

“Basira?”

“Yeah, she’s- it sounds like she had a rough go of it. Might not see her for a while.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Martin got up from his chair and moved next to Jon. “Tim already went home for the day, said if there were any complaints he, well that he didn’t care.”

“No, it’s fine. I might leave on time today as well.”

“Wow, look at you go.” He managed a small smile that he hoped was comforting. “Come on.” he put a hand on Jon’s back and began guiding him towards the stairs. “You haven’t eaten all day have you?”

“No, but-”

“None of that. Let’s get something from the canteen before it closes, yeah?”

“Alright.”

Martin kept one hand on Jon’s back until they were half way up the stairs, then he let it fall so that when they walked side by side their hands would brush against each other’s. He couldn’t work up the courage to take his boss by the hand, but it was something.

~

Jon was desperately trying to figure out how to set up the trail cam in a way that would catch the hatch but not be easily noticed in the archives. He was thinking he could tuck it between the shelves in the hall and the book tray, so long as no one moved it.
Since Basira wouldn’t be helping him anymore he was grasping at straws, and monitoring the tunnels seemed like his best bet at the moment.
He was sitting on the floor reading the instructions on how to use the camera when he felt a sickening twist in reality as a breath fell on the back of his neck.

“Archivist.”

Jon screamed, leaping up from the floor and blindly swinging a hand behind him.

Michael also screamed and jerked back from where he had been looming over the Archivist.

“Michael!” Jon had jumped up only to fall prone again and was laying on the floor clutching his chest. “What are you doing??”

Michael was standing a few feet away, leaning back and also clutching his chest.
“Dear God, Archivist. I only came to say hello.”

“By sneaking up on me and whispering menacingly in my ear??”

“I was not being menacing!” The blonde stuck out his lower lip and Jon couldn’t tell if his pout was genuine or not. “I was just being me.”

“You are menacing.” Jon grumbled as he rolled over and pushed off of the floor.

“Why thank you! That’s such a nice thing to say.” Michael seemed to cheer up with the comment and did a little bow.

Jon snorted a little and picked up the instruction book again. “You’re lucky it’s after hours. Tim has been looking for you and if he ever comes across you he’s going to get you to talk with violence.”

The odd man twirled his hair around one of his fingers. “Oh, dear Timothy and I have spoken several times now. Of course he didn’t realize it was me any of those times, my new memory warping powers are incredibly wonderful.”

Jon bit his lip. If Tim knew that it would send him into a rage. “Have you been using your memory powers on me?”

“It’s a passive thing, and you’ve already proven to be able to see through it, probably due to you being the Archivist and your feline senses.”

He grunted in acknowledgment and sat back on the floor, patting it to signal that Michael was welcome to join him.

The blonde did so, folding his long legs under him and immediately reaching for Jon’s tail that was all puffed up from his recent freight.

“Hey!” Jon swished his tail out of reach. “You can’t just grab a man’s tail without asking!”

“It looks so delightfully soft.” Michael sank down onto his stomach and reached for it again.

Jon lashed his tail back and forth aggressively so that it danced in and out of the other person’s grasp too fast for him to properly catch it.

“Well what are you here to talk to me about? There must be something as you’ve been broadly avoiding me until now.”

The tall man gave up on grabbing his tail and rolled onto his back. “Hmmmm…… Perhaps I’m trying to get a better understanding of you, Archivist. For example, I’d like to know what you’re doing.”
Of course the one time Michael wanted to talk was when Jon was busy, It was hard to read while someone was actively harassing him.

“Someone is in the tunnels, other than you, and they’ve been coming into the archives. I bought a trail cam to try and get footage.”

“Watching even when you cannot behold. You’re becoming quite the Archivist.”

“I’m trying to figure out who killed Gertrude. Don’t suppose you know anything you’d like to share?”

His companion laughed his strange laugh. “Afraid I am of no help in that regard. Michael never knew how she died, let alone who killed her.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were Michael?”

“I am Not Michael and even less than I was before.”

“Well that’s maddeningly unhelpful.”

“Perfect!”

The blonde rolled back onto his stomach before drawing himself up to sit on his knees. “You know, I work in artifact storage now, but I don’t know what job I’m supposed to be doing. I usually just upset everyone else because they can’t remember who I am
and then they leave for the day, but I’m thinking of actually doing work. Michael used to work here after all.”

Now that was an interesting tidbit of information.

“I’d offer you a position in the archives, but until we get Sasha back you’re number one on Tim’s hit list.”

Michael chuckled. “Working in the archives? For the Archivist? What a novel idea. I would never but it’s a funny thought.”

Jon sighed and set the instructions down, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to absorb any of it while Michael was present.
“Are you actually going to help me get Sasha back?”

“I think so. I think I might actually like you Archivist, but I haven’t fully made up my mind yet. Let’s just say my former employers wouldn’t be happy about me helping, but they can’t find me now so it’s my decision.”

One of his ears swiveled in the other person’s direction as he picked out the meaning in his words. “Who’s your former employer?”

The blonde waved a hand dismissively. “They don’t matter right now. The Distortion has warped me beyond what they could understand.”

“I thought The Distortion and you were-?”

“Yes and no, no and yes. I am beyond definition.”

Jon just took a deep breath. It seemed like Michael had reached his limit for coherent answers.

“Alright, well…. Do you want to help me set up this camera?”
The odd man scooted next to him to lean over his shoulder and read the instructions as well. He wasn’t very helpful, quite the opposite in fact, but weirdly enough he thought that this was some sort of progress.

~

The next time Michael came to visit him after hours he wasn’t so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t notice. Rather there was the skin tickling sense of wrongness that typically preceded him and then the familiar groan of the stairs.
Jon looked up from the trail cam footage he had been watching and soon saw his office door creak open and Michael’s goofy smile appear around it.

“Archivist.”

“Come in Michael.”

The odd man did so, slinking over to the desk and taking a seat like he was coming for a coffee date.
“What secrets has the camera yielded to you?” Michael laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them.

“That there’s someone living in the tunnels that isn’t you. Look.” he turned his screen so Michael could see the grainy image of a presumably male person crawling up from the floor after simply shifting it out of the way.

The blonde cocked his head to the side and giggled. “Oh. The Distortion knows him. We don’t like him.”

Jon felt a shiver run through him as he turned the screen back. “Who is he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually.”

His guest laughed, a sound that always made him uneasy, and leaned back. “You seem to be doing very well with your investigations.”

“Well I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

Jon scowled at the screen, the mystery man taunting him just as the one sitting next to him taunted him as well. The answers were so close to being within his grasp, and yet they were constantly being pulled away, like a colorful cat toy on a string.
Michael draped the top half of himself on the desk, arms folded over his nose. “I’ve been thinking about pie recently.”

“Oh?”

“Michael loved it. Especially pudding pies. The Distortion had no need for such things, nor interest, but I’ve been thinking of having some.”

Jon couldn’t help but glance down at his company. He was being oddly personal and the shift was welcome even if it was surprising. “Then you should.”

“Perhaps.”

For a few minutes Jon worked on his laptop saving the trail cam footage while Michael just lounged on his desk before the blonde pushed his chair back and left.
In his absence the Archivist did his supplemental recording detailing his findings and prepped his office for the following day. After some twenty minutes the stairs creaked their age old complaints about being used and with an aura of wrongness Michael reappeared.

He was holding a box and some plastic forks. Wordlessly he sat back at the desk with Jon and unveiled a Tesco lemon meringue pie.
It was a little awkward, two beings who both very much liked to talk sitting in silence eating a frozen pie, but there was a certain sort of comradery in it.
Jon only had a few bites to be polite since he couldn’t taste sweetness very well and lemon wasn’t his favorite, but Michael polished off almost half of the thing. When he was satisfied, the blonde stood and picked up the box with what remained of the pie.

“I still like pie.” He moved to leave the archives but paused to look over his shoulder. “Goodnight Archivist.”

“Goodnight Michael.”

Jon watched his office door click shut behind the odd man and pulled off his frames to rub his eyes. He was hoping these recent visits meant that Michael was going to help him get Sasha back, but there was just so much he didn’t understand and the one person that seemed to have the answers refused to say more than three sentences at a time that actually made sense.
All he could do was to keep digging through the archives and hope he could dig up something of use. He just had to keep working.

~

“Statement ends.”

Jon rolled his shoulders as he sat a little straighter in his chair.
“Michael Crew. The man with the lightning scar. A fractal pattern burned into his flesh, chased by the manifestation of that pattern and then jumped out a window. So what is he now?”
Each time he found a real statement he felt both excitement and dread. On one hand they were his only real leads, on the other they filled him with so much fear he could barely stomach them.
“It strikes me that whenever a person gains any sort of power from these books, often they change, not just their actions, but who they are. It almost seems as though the power uses them, rather than the other way round. Did Leitner’s book do something to Michael Crew?”

As he spoke to the recorder he flipped through his binder to the portion dedicated to Crew. He was keeping track of any and all repeating names or themes, and someone named Michael was bound to stick with him.
“Others who encountered it reported similar feelings of vertigo to those reported by Mr. Walker, but it also puts me in mind of the fate of Robert Kelly, the skydiver who fell for far longer than he-”

His office door swung open as Basira barged in.

“Basira, what are you doing here? I thought-?”

“Here.” She dropped a box on his desk.

He looked at it with wide eyes as he realized what its contents were.

“Are those the tapes?”

“As many as I could get my hands on.”

He pushed his chair back to stand and examine the box.

“I don’t understand. You said we were done.”

Basira’s face twitched and when she spoke the anger was clear in her voice. “They’re covering it up. Altman’s death. Saying he was dirty. That he got stabbed in a botched drug deal.”

“Wait… So the operation you went on-?”

“Doesn’t exist.” She shook her head slightly. “I mean, I didn’t know Leo well, but... it’s not right. And they seemed happy enough to get me out the door.”

“I still don’t understand why this leads to me getting the tapes. I mean, not that I’m ungrateful.” He held a hand over his heart in the hopes that it might convey some of his gratitude.

“Well they're sure as hell not going to solve Gertrude’s murder, so you might as well have them. Before... I don’t know, maybe I still had enough police in me not to just steal from Evidence, but now…” Her eyes darted to the floor.

“They’ve rather lost your loyalty.”

Basira nodded a singular sharp dip of her chin.

“I thought they were watching you?”

“No, not since the Brodie op. Everyone’s been too busy. Daisy knows, and she’s fine with it. There shouldn’t be any problem until next inventory, and even then it’s only if they can be bothered with the sectioned stuff. You should be in the clear.”

“Basira, I don’t- I don’t know how to thank you.”

She took one step forward and moved into his space, locking him into intense eye contact.
“Find your friend and get out, and then if I never have to hear about this mess again, that will be thanks enough.”

He swallowed nervously and she leaned back, her face softening. “Take care of yourself, Jon.”

“You too.”

She left the office with nothing more than a sharp turn on her heel and the click of the door behind her.

Jon dove into the box as soon as she was gone, picking up several tapes at once and chirping excitedly.
“Where to even begin?” He wondered aloud, feeling more hopeful than he had in weeks.

~

Jon was on his office floor again, wrapped in a blanket from the break room and purring as he rummaged through the box of tapes from Basira. He was so excited about having them that he hadn’t been able to make up his mind about where to start, so he was just sorting them by the few labels and dates that they had.

He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t even look up when his office door opened, it wasn’t until someone cleared their throat loudly that he jumped a little and turned to see Melanie King standing in the doorway.
She squinted down at him. “You’re on the floor again.”

“Yes. I’m allowed.”

Her eyes narrowed even more. “What was that noise?”

“What noise?”

“Like something was vibrating. It just stopped.”

“Oh, uh.” He hugged the blanket around him a little tighter, glad that it was over his head. The heater in this place can make some really strange noises.”

“Hmm…” She didn’t seem convinced and was still squinting at him suspiciously. “Well, anyway. I came here to make a statement. So are you gonna get out your rickety little recorder or just keep playing with those cassettes on the floor?”

“I might just stay down here with my cassettes, thank you very much.” Jon scooted so his back was to Melanie and he heard her scoff.

“You’re unbelievable. No wonder things didn’t work out with Georgie.”

Her words made his skin crawl and he scrambled to his feet, careful to keep the blanket in place to cover his feline traits while he glared at her.

“Wait, wait, wait. She told you about that??”

“Thought that would get a rise out of ya.” Melanie moved to sit in his other office chair, smirking victoriously. “Now get to work Archivist, I’ve got a statement to make.”
Jon snorted indignantly. The nerve of this woman.

He shuffled around to his side of the desk and ducked below it to replace the blanket with a bandana before reappearing.
Melanie raised one eyebrow. “Georgie mentioned that you have some weird habits but it’s something else entirely to see it in action.”

“I would have thought Georgie would have better taste in friends.” He muttered.

“I would have thought she’d have better taste in men.”

“That makes two of us.”

Melanie laughed at that. “Alright, well. I’m here to make a statement so can we please get on with it?”

“Very well.” Jon pressed record.

“So I wanted to make a statement, you know, just in case….”

“Just in case you get murdered by ghosts.” Jon supplied as Melanie’s voice trailed off. Her statement had been very interesting, particularly because she was chasing a strain of the supernatural that so far seemed rather unconnected from the web he was dealing with.

“Exactly.” She confirmed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, be careful.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Oh, like you’ve been?” He must have made a face because she huffed and continued. “I heard people talking about you upstairs, you know all about this sort of obsession.”

“I do….” He admitted. “But I can still advise you to be careful. I’d hate for my first conversation with Georgie in years to be about how you got yourself killed in India.”

Mentioning Georgie got Melanie to soften a little. “Fine. Point taken.”

Seeing her push her chair back he reached for one of his desk drawers. “Oh, um. Before you go…”

She paused while he pulled out his binder and opened it to the page with the notes on Sarah Baldwin’s disappearance and ties to other cases. “I figured you might want to see this. I’ve been trying to keep track of the names and things that keep coming up around the archives.”

Melanie leaned forward to read his findings, her face slowly shifting from curiosity to disgust and horror.
“What the fuck?”

“Rather upsetting, I know.”

“Wait.” She pulled the binder towards herself and pointed to his entry on The Trophy Room. “You went there?”

“I, um. Yes?”

“You got a lot of nerve telling me to be careful.”

“Yes, yes. I already got thoroughly chewed out for it.” He pulled his binder back before she could start flipping through the pages. “I just thought you might want to know.”

“Thanks I-” Melanie’s face screwed up in an indecipherable expression. “I don’t know what to make of that but it’s something.”

“That’s more or less my thoughts on the matter.”

“Well.” She stood to leave. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll get going now. Let me know if there’s any news on Sasha when I get back.”

“I will.”

When she left he paused to consider things.

News on Sasha.

The first tape he would be listening to would be the one Michael had given him so long ago. Maybe there would be something in it that would point him in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Jon rolled his stiff shoulders and stood to stretch. He checked the time on his phone. It was four fifteen AM on a Monday. He had been in the archives since Friday morning, leaving only briefly on Saturday to make a purchase. He had been listening to tapes over and over again, reading statements and cross referencing and was fairly certain he knew what he had to do. All that was left was to curl up on the cot in the spare room for a few hours before Tim and Martin came in for the day.

He bent over his desk and pressed his palms into the wood. He took a deep breath and held it.

One.

Two.

Three.

He let it out and straightened up.

Leaving his office he expected the archives to be dark, save for the lamp he left on by the stairs, but the fluorescents were on in the bullpen. Peering around the doorframe he spotted the broad shoulders and red hair of Martin Blackwood. 

He was leaning against one of the filing cabinets, a drawer of folders partially open in front of him and even from the distance Jon could see his shoulders shake.

“Martin, what are you doing here?”

The large man turned quickly, clearly not expecting anyone else to be there.

“J-Jon! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh. I worked over the weekend.” 

Martin’s brow creased, clearly not pleased with his answer.

“It’s not so unusual for me. But you still haven’t answered my question?”

His assistant turned away. “I-I came in early.”

“There’s more to it than that.” Jon had moved up to the other man now, and for a second he let his hand hover by his arm about to touch him, before thinking better of it and pulling back.

“I, um….” Martin turned so that his back was even more to him.

“I just got back from visiting my mum in, uh, in Devon.”

“Oh.” Looking at the ground Jon could see wisps of fog curling around Martin feet, a sight that filled him with dread.

“It was just…. It was hard.”

“I’m sorry.” He was. He really and truly was.

Martin took a deep breath and turned to him and Jon could finally see that his eyes were ringed with red and his cheeks were damp. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He said and gently wiped a tear from the taller man’s cheek. “Here, let’s sit.” 

He wrapped a hand around his wrist and dragged Martin to the little loveseat in the breakroom where they squished themselves down onto it. 

Jon’s not good at comfort, not in a human way, but his mother used to be haunted by the same suffocating fog that laps at Martin's feet from time to time, and he does have experience dispelling it.

Martin sits stiffly with his boss pressed against him and sniffles. He looks and sounds utterly dejected. 

Jon had grappled with his idea for a single moment before the sight of a tear sliding down his assistant’s face helped him make up his mind. He swallowed his pride and did the one thing he really and truly knows how to do to make someone feel better.

He snuggles against Martin and purrs.

Jon folds his hands around one of Martin’s and curls his tail over their laps. His nose is pressed against the larger man’s shoulder and his knees are tucked up next to him.

Martin stiffens initially, his breath hitching and his normally anxious hands going still, but after several seconds he relaxes, leaning back and resting his head on Jon’s.

There’s a moment where Jon feels a wave of satisfaction as Martin melts against him before an odd nagging in the back of his mind calls the feeling into question.

He’s my friend, so I’m helping him. I’m doing what I can .

It’s reasonable, it’s what friends do, it’s what cats do.

But also…. He cares about Martin. He trusts Martin.

Martin is important to him.

He…

Well… He wanted to do something for him and….

And….

Martin slings an arm around Jon, holding him closer and for a moment that’s the only thing that matters.

Come the morrow he’s going to send Martin home and tell Tim to take the day off, and then he was going to get Sasha back.

But that’s in the future and right now he’s seeing to the very important matter of comforting Martin Blackwood.

It’s just for Martin’s sake. Really it is.

He loves the warmth of the larger man, and the faint smell of vanilla that clings to his jumper, and the soft sound of his breathing, but this isn’t about him.

There is a little part of Jon that wishes it were about him. A little voice in the back of his head says ‘ It would be very nice to curl up with Martin when everything is right with the world and Sasha is home again.’

It’s a little voice that he tries to ignore because this isn’t the time for such things.

Jon and Martin stay on that ratty little loveseat for the next few hours, sometimes dozing and sometimes just holding on to each other.

Work hours will bring one final test for Jon, but for now they can have one night of Respite.

Chapter Text

“Martin, Tim.”

Jon hobbled out of his office at four PM, a folder clutched to his chest and a running recorder in his pocket.
His assistants look up from their respective tasks and he could see their expressions warp with worry at the sight of him.
He knows he looks bad, everyone’s been telling him for weeks, and last night's lack of sleep and the stress of what he’s about to do are only exacerbating it.

“What’s up boss?” Tim askes.

“I’m not feeling well, so I’m giving you two the rest of the day off. Tomorrow as well. We’ve all been having a rough go of things lately and there’s no need for anyone else to get sick.”

Martin frowns at him, a familiar frown of worry. “If you’re not feeling well you need to go-”

“Yes, yes. I will. I just have a few things to finish up first.” Jon waves a hand at them in a shooing motion. “I’ll be leaving as soon as I’ve tidied up for the night.

“But Jon, you were here all weekend and-”

“Martin please.” The pained expression on Martin’s face was only making the dread that had settled in his gut heavier. “Just go home so you’re not stressing me out while I finish. Please. Just go.”

“Are you sure? It’s just that-”

“Alright. Sure thing, Boss.” Tim, who had been watching him and Martin go back and forth was suddenly up, bag in hand.

“Let’s go Martin.”

“But-”

“Let’s go.” Tim practically dragged Martin towards the stairs. “Rest up, see you Wednesday.”

“Thank you.” Jon said as he watched them go. Once the sound of them ascending the stairs faded his shoulders sagged and he sighed.
What comes next is the hard part.

“It is remarkably easy to buy an axe in Central London. Harder to sneak it into Artifact Storage, but not impossible.”

Jon stands in front of the table, axe in hand and fear curling in his gut.
He’d listened to the tapes, he’d read the statements, he’d pondered Michael’s words over and over again, and this was the only thing he could come up with.
There was a monster attached to this table, one that stole identities. The Stranger.

Michael had been fed to The Distortion by Gertrude, and then he’d tried to save Sasha from the thing in this table. Whatever was in this table, it had changed Michael, for better or worse, and when he destroyed it one of two things was going to happen.
Either it convinced Michael to help him get Sasha back, or the monster was going to kill him.

His grip tightened on the handle of the axe and he took a deep breath through his nose. Either way, he wasn’t losing anyone else. If anyone was dying in the line of duty it was him.
He takes one, final moment to steal his nerves and then he swings.

Metal hits wood and the impact jostles his shoulder, but still he wrenches it free and swings again. And again. And again. And again.

After a few moments he’s left with naught but splinters and cobwebs.
“It’s hollow….” He muses before there is the distinct sound of a creaking door behind him.

He looks over his shoulder to see a tall blonde man, his face painted in surprise.
“You destroyed it.” He says it like he still can’t believe it, despite the broken wood and dust at Jon’s feet.

“Yes, and now you’re free of it.” Jon stands a little straighter, hoping he sounds confident and not afraid.

“That was very stupid Archivist.” Michael chuckles, but it’s laced with disbelief.
He advances, reaching a hand out towards Jon that’s too long and way too fast. Before the Archivist can even think to use the axe there are long fingers gripping his wrist and pulling him along. The grip is tight and the too long hand twists his arm, making him drop the axe.
“Come with me so I can tell you a story.” Michael drags him away from the ruined table and out of artifact storage, but when they pass through the doors leading to the rest of the Institute, they instead step into the tunnels.

Michael and Doors. The Distortion and Doors. The Distortion and Michael.

“Let me tell you the story of Michael. Poor, disposable Michael.”

Jon is yanked through one door after another, and with each one he’s taken deeper and deeper underground, farther and farther from any part of the tunnels he knows. The blonde man is speaking to him all the while.

“You don’t know a lot about Gertrude Robinson, do you? She was something of a monster hunter you might say. And of the monsters she dedicated her life to tormenting, I am among them, and poor Michael was a tool for her.”

Jon’s heart is thundering in his ears. He had begun to hope that he and Michael might have enough of a connection that freeing him of the table would be what it took to convince him to help, perhaps all he did was smash his only real defense.

“The Distortion,” Michael continues, “Well the Distortion is a little harder to speak of. The thing that is lies, confusion and delusion. Unknowable and unfathomable. Beyond names and form and meaning. It exists to torment and consume through madness and delirium.
And Gertrude, well, she took some issues with that.”

Michael shoved him forward and Jon stumbled and fell against the rough stone of the tunnel floor. He looked up at the blonde as he stretched out and warped in front of his eyes.
“The Distortion is harder to explain, but Michael Shelley, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge.” Michael laughed, a sickening nose. “A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.”

Jon scrambled to his feet, backing up slowly but only gaining a few feet before Michael started to advance.

“When he was in school, he lost a friend to another monster. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see.” The monster shrugged as he spoke. “After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.
Even with what I had been or never was, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to those halls. She made him to destroy its transcendence. And she did not hesitate.”

The tall monster’s eyes were filled with anger and regret as he spoke.

“Poor Michael.
He had been on trips for the Institute before.
Conferences, investigations… Gertrude had made sure that all her assistants were ready. That none of them would be suspicious if they were told they were going abroad for work. So, there was no doubt in his mind, no concern, when she told him that they were traveling to Russia. Perhaps if he’d have stopped to look up their destination, he might have discovered there was no such place as Zemlya Sannikova, but he did not. He trusted her.”

Michael tilted his head to the side. “You must understand that’s the worst part, that he trusted her.”

Jon backed up until there was a door to his back.

“Do you know what’s horrible Archivist? Even when they traveled north, picked up by a quiet sea Captain named Peter Lukas, and the weather grew harsh and cold he worried about her. About how this poor old woman might cope with the chill. But now she was like iron, and walked with a purpose that Michael had never before seen in her. The water turned to ice as the Arctic approached, and Gertrude’s eyes turned cold.”

The door to Jon’s back swung open, and some part of him knew that was his cue to run.
It’s what this thing wanted, for him to run. It wanted him to be afraid, and he was.

So he ran and it laughed.

“Gertrude told him they were there to stop a great evil, the Great Twisting. The Distortion’s great becoming.
I can not describe the unimaginable glory of those twisting halls to you, but you have seen a glimpse of them yourself.”

Michael’s voice echoed through the halls after him as he ran, trying to avoid doors and spiderwebs.

“If Michael thought he had lost his mind as he looked upon The Distortion it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real. But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt.”

Jon stumbled through a door, he didn’t mean to, it just… he turned a corner and it was just there.

“Gertrude sent poor Michael into the Distortion. Into the heart of it. She’d given him a map. An impossible thing of overlapping lines and bends that made no sense.”

Jon ran down stairs and up them again.

“Even when his mind was fogged over with panic he trusted her. Walked in there and became the Distortion. Something that could not be a who.”

Jon paused briefly to try and catch his breath in a passageway with no doors while Michael’s voice was still faint and far.

“But I’m not just going to tell you about Michael, no.”

The voice returned and with it the tunnels seemed to warp.

“I need to tell you about me. About a monster that takes you and wears you like a suit. Long and faceless. I hollow out some poor soul and become them. I can fool anyone, except one person is left who remembers, and it makes them so very afraid. Until a nasty man trapped me in a table of webs.
It was so horrible, I couldn’t roam like I used to. So I got my friends to carry the table around so I could still take faces and scare people.”

Jon scurried around a corner and through a particularly narrow bit of passage, almost crying with relief when he found a flight of stairs leading up. The walls seemed to stretch around him and the floor tilted under him.

Michael’s voice still echoed up to him from wherever the blonde was.
“But I was sent to the house of my enemy to spy. I was going to take the girl. Sasha. I was going to wear her. But Michael came to save her. Got in my way. I ended up wearing him instead. But Michael doesn’t exist. The Distortion already ate him, so all I got to wear is the tattered echo of a memory. Look what that’s done to me.”

His laugh bounced on the cold stone until it rattled around in Jon’s skull.

He darted down a passage but skidded to a stop when he saw who was standing in front of him.

Tall, blonde and monster grinned at him.

“Look at you, Archivist. You’re terrified.”
His blue eyes slid away to the wall next to him for a moment. “You’re afraid enough that I can reach it.”

Following Michael’s gaze he spotted the yellow door set into the stone wall. A nauseatingly familiar yellow door.

“It needs fear, I need fear. I couldn’t go back without a strong enough source of terror.”
Michael gripped the handle. “I’ll be back with Sasha. I shouldn’t be long. A Stranger I may be, but I know these halls.”

Michael went in and for one, wonderful, all consuming moment Jon allowed himself a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to kill him.

Then the wall started to eat the door.

~

Tim and Martin reached the bottom of the stairs at the Institute and stopped. Tim turned sharply on his heels and looked back at the grand columns that stood at the entrance and let out a breath that hissed through his teeth.

“Tim?” Martin asked carefully.

“Come on.” Tim swung his arm singling for Martin to follow him again.

“What are we doing? Jon told us to leave.” The larger man jogged to keep up with his friend.

“Yeah, and we all know how incredible Jon’s decision making skills have been lately. He’s up to something and it’s probably dangerous.”

He pulled a recorder out of his bag, popped a tape into it and hit record. Martin glanced at it and frowned, the scuff marks on the cassette he used looked vaguely familiar.
“You grabbed a new tape, right?”

“Huh?” Tim cast a glance at him over his shoulder as they marched back into the institute. “Yeah, it was just laying around.”

“Are you sure it was blank?”

“Yes, it’s just, look Martin, we have more important things to worry about.” Tim sliced the air by his head with his hand as he spoke to put emphasis on his words.

They power walked through the halls of the institute back towards the archives as they spoke. Some departments got out at three while others, such as research and the archives, stayed until five, so there weren’t as many people present in the regal halls.

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Martin asked as they hurried along.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s gonna be bad. Like, could get himself killed levels of bad.”

Last night events rattled in Martin’s brain. Jon snuggled up to him in the break room while purring. At the time he had been so overcome with emotions it hadn’t fully occurred to him what was happening, but in hindsight it seemed like the sort of thing he would do before enacting a stupid plan that he knew would be dangerous.
“Okay yeah.”

They made it to the archives and took a quick look around, checked the office and did laps around the stacks before determining that Jon wasn’t there.

“Where do you think he is?” Even as he asked it, Martin’s eyes were on the trap door.

“Tunnels.”

“Tunnels.”

~

The power of The Distortion was apparent to Jon now that he wasn’t running in a blind panic. He could feel the dizzying wrongness seeping from the yellow door set in the tunnel wall and the way it was twisting everything around it. Everything that the Michael creature had said to him was… Hard to wrap his head around, but what mattered was that he had summoned a yellow door and said he’d be back with Sasha. He just had to hold on to that.

The problem was that the tunnel wall was trying to eat the yellow door.

It was a strange, melting sort of shift, as if the same force that had moved the floor of the archives was trying to swallow up the door but was turning soft like putty.
It was an overwhelmingly strange sight to see.

More so, he couldn’t let it happen because how else would Michael and Sasha make it out?

There had been a man on the trail cam footage, this must be his doing. He spun in a circle trying to locate the culprit but he didn’t see anything.
He had to find him, but in the meantime… He grabbed a pipe and tried to wedge it in front of the door to keep the wall from closing around it.

It didn’t really work so Jon was left holding the section of pipe and looking frantically up and down the corridor.

The Distortion is different from the worms. The fire is different from the fog and this….

Shifting earth and suffocation, layered under fog and obscured by isolation but he could still tell it was there.

Jon took the pipe and swung and was rewarded by the sound of a yelp and a book hitting the floor. The wall stopped trying to swallow the door and an older man appeared out of the darkness looking alarmed.

“Who are you?” he asked while brandishing his pipe.

“Please Mr. Sims. I mean you no harm.” The old man was holding up his hands now. Jon looked at the book that he had dropped on the floor and a wave of nausea hit him. That book was obviously a Leitner and this man had been using it to try and put an end
to Michael’s door, something he couldn’t let happen.

“Follow me.” Jon snapped.

~

It was apparent there was something distinctly wrong in the tunnels when Tim and Martin entered them. They were…. Bent in ways they never had been before.
Tim shone his torch around wearily. “Is it just me, or are there more doors down here than there were before?”

“No there definitely are.”

Martin took a deep breath and began to march forward. If Jon was down here doing something stupid he had to find him and help him before something horrible happened.
He and Tim wandered deeper, not quite daring to call out for their friend.

The tunnels kept getting stranger, with more doors. Tim was as close to an expert on Smirke’s architecture that they had, and he was certain that this wasn’t his original design they were looking at.
They searched for what felt like hours, but when they stumbled upon it there was no overlooking what they had found.

A yellow door set into the cold stone that appeared as bright as day in the dark of the tunnel but emitted no light. The walls, ceiling and floor around it shimmered with swirling colors like an oil spill and stone around it was warped.

“Oh my god.”

“Tim…you don’t think…?”

“Yeah. He’s in there. He’s one hundred percent in there.”

They hardly needed their torches with the door defying physics right in front of them. Martin moved a little closer when he noticed something sitting on the ground a few feet away from the door.

"Martin." Tim hissed his name but didn’t try to stop him.

The redhead bent down and picked up the object that had caught his attention. It was a book, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, and on the inside cover was a label. “From the Library of Juergen Leitner.”
Some part of him had the mind to wonder, Isn’t this one of the books Gertrude bought? Before Tim was gripping him by the arm and pulling him away from the door.

“Be careful.”

“Tim it’s not doing anything it’s just-”

As he was speaking the door opened and the swirling patterns became even more confusing as a jumbled mass of shapes and colors poured out of it.
They scrambled back against the far wall as the shapes seemed to right themselves and began to look like people instead of questions.

One of the people looked up at them from where they knelt on the floor. Hair twisted in impossible patterns, hands that had only just settled back into being the right shapes, clothes that were still spinning and eyes that reflected them back a thousand times over.

Their lips parted and in a raspy voice spoke a single word.

“Tim?”

Tim blinked once.

Twice.

“Sasha?”

“Tim!”

“Sasha!”

He fell to his knees and threw his arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair.
She clung to him and sobbed.

Martin saw the two of them on the ground, and while he was happy Sasha was back they still hadn’t found Jon. He looked at the other person that had stumbled out of the door, even as it and all of its colors faded.

Tall, blonde, dressed like it was the eighties, this must be…..

“Matthew?” He asked.

“So close! It’s Michael.”

“Michael, where’s-?”

The blonde man looked around the tunnels in the torchlight.

“The Archivist? I left him right here, not sure where he got off to.”

“We need to find him!”

“We need to get Sasha to a hospital.” Tim was carrying her bridal style as she clung to his neck.

He was right. Jon had been barely able to move after spending four days in the halls, Sasha had been in there for months. With that in mind she seemed better off than he would have expected. Her eyes were open and she’d recognized Tim and been able to speak, she didn’t look starved, but there was also something different about her. Something about her was distinctly more…. twisted.

“Okay, right. Yes. We need to get out of here.”

“Above ground!” Michael chirped and threw open an entirely different door. At least someone seemed to be thriving.

Martin looked at Tim, who was squinting at where Michael had just disappeared and shrugged before following.
He looked up and down the length of the tunnel he had just stepped into while Tim emerged behind him, still carrying Sasha.
“This looks like…”

“The trap door should be right up there.” Tim started walking to where he was talking about, and sure enough they found Michael standing under the hatch, rocking back on his heels.

“Are we ready?”

“Yes.” Tim snapped. “We need to get her help.”

“And find Jon.” Martin added.

“And find Jon.” Tim stood under the hatch and looked at Martin. “Help me get her up!”

“On it!”

Between the two of them (Michael didn’t help, he just went and started rummaging through the break room) they managed to get Sasha up and out of the tunnels.

“The cot, the cot. Get the cot for her.” Tim waved at him while pulling out his phone.

“Tim…” Sasha muttered weakly against his shoulder.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything take you ever again.”

There was a tightness in Martin’s chest at the sight of the two of them, huddled on the floor of the archives with their foreheads pressed together.
She’s going to be okay. They’re both going to be okay. He has to be.

He dragged the cot out to them and nabbed one of the blankets they kept just floating around the place during the winter.
“Here.”

Tim got Sasha onto it and stood. “Stay with her. I’m gonna call an ambulance.”
He headed for the stairs and Martin knelt by the cot with Sasha.

“Hey.” She croaked.

“Hey.”

Her eyes were like kaleidoscopes and kept roaming around the space. “Where’s Jon?” She asked hoarsely.

Martin took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Don’t know. He was helping get you out but we don’t know where he went.”

Michael reappeared eating the other half of the sandwich Martin hadn’t finished at lunch. “I’m sure the Archivist will turn up. Provided I didn’t scare him too horribly.”

“What are you talking about?” Martin glared up at the strange man, who only shrugged in return.

Before he could question him further he heard the sound of Tim charging down the stairs and he hurried into the archives right back to Sasha’s side. “Paramedics are on their way.” He caught her hand in his and held it like it was the most sacred thing in the world.
“I’m here Sash.”

She smiled wearily at him from the cot.

“Hang on, I think there’s a pillow or two in the office, let me get them.” Martin left them there when he saw Tim’s nod of acknowledgement.

He swung the office door open and froze on the threshold.
Martin pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, or vomiting, or both. He took a step back. Then another.

“Hey, Mart, found the pillows yet?” Tim was leaning back to watch him around one of the many stacks of boxes in the hall between them.

“Martin?” He asked again, worry creeping into his voice.

“T-Tim. There’s… Oh god….”

“What?” The other man was on his feet now, coming over to see what the issue was.

Martin couldn’t move. Couldn’t take his eyes off of the mess in front of him.

“What’s the matter-? -Oh…. Oh no.” Tim stood next to him, his question dying on his tongue when he saw the office.

There was blood everywhere. All over the desk, the floor, the walls. A metal pipe lay on the ground, bent from bludgeoning and dripping red.
There was a body sitting in a chair at the desk, head on the wood, face turned away and the skull had clearly been caved in.

“Who is it?” Martin asked because it clearly wasn’t Jon and he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I-I don’t know!” Tim took a step back.

“You don’t think Jon-?”

“I don’t know!”

“He wouldn’t!”

“I don’t know!”

Michael came up behind them. “What are you two shouting about?”

The blonde looked over their shoulders at the carnage. “Oh my.”

As Tim and Martin stared in horror and disbelief at the corpse in front of them Michael laughed.
“What an utterly delightful turn of events!”

“How could you say that!” Martin snapped, but the strange man just held up a hand to display the murder scene.

“Why look at that! The corpse of Jurgen Leitner!”

Chapter Text

It was by pure chance that Martha Sims was in London that night. An old work friend of her son’s had found some old photos of him and called her, so she had made the journey from Bournemouth to London to recover some memories of him.

She was alone in the world. Her only child was gone and her daughter in law as well. It had been many years since her husband had passed and the rest of her family was distant.

It was just Martha and the photos she had traveled so far to obtain on that cool London night.

She’d taken a wrong turn on her way back to the tube and the neighborhood she now found herself in was more than a little intimidating. 

She just needed to get back to her hotel for the night without getting mugged or worse.

It was while she was making her way down the street to the closest intersection where there was light that she heard the screaming. It sounded like the frightened cries of a cat, and at first she dismissed it as such, but there was something off about the cries. There was an aspect to the vocalization that seemed…. Human, upsettingly so.

Martha stopped and glanced up and down the street nervously. If those were the cries of a child she couldn’t very well leave them…. But it was dark in a place that she did not know, and she was afraid.

She almost kept walking, but the yowling sounded so close to a cry for help that in the end she turned down the street to follow it.

It wasn’t long before she found its source, a dirty and distressed child who couldn’t be more than six or seven years old. At first glance she assumed it was a little girl, based off of the ill fitting dress and the long, dark brown hair that was matted.

The child was tucked against the brick wall of what she assumed was an abandoned building behind some garbage cans, knees to her chest and screaming like a wounded banshee. 

“Hello? Are you hurt?” Martha asked, stiffly kneeling to be on the child’s level. 

Large, tear filled eyes that reflected the street lights strangely met her’s as something moved in the little girl’s hair.

Martha’s stomach lurched at the thought of an animal nesting in the child’s hair, but as it moved again she noticed there was something odd about the motion.

“Let’s get you away from this garbage, come on sweetie.” She coaxed the little girl, who sniffled and slowly uncurled from where she crouched. Something brown and fluffy swished around her legs as she stood and once again Martha feld dread at the prospect of a wild animal clinging to the strange child.

When the girl emerged into the light Martha realized just what about this abandoned child was so odd. Almost buried under her matted brown hair were two, triangular ears that twitched with each soft word spoken, her oblong pupils constricted showing just how vividly green her irises were, and by her feet twitched a ratty brown tail. The girl’s fingers ended in claws and when she cried it revealed her sharp teeth.

Martha Sims had no clue what sort of child she had found, but she knew she couldn’t leave her alone on the side of the road, so she took off her jacket and wrapped the child up and made up her mind to care for the sorry little thing.

She soon learned that the child was actually a little boy named Jonathan, his English was shockingly good, and the story he told her of how he came to be was truly horrific. 

Little Jonathan was not an easy child to raise, between explaining how she had come to care for the him and his feline traits she had to smother him in a blanket of lies for his own safety. He was also a difficult little thing, quickly learning to talk back, wandering off on his own frequently and chasing after bugs only to fall into hysterics if it ended up being a spider.

But for all of the struggle he brought into her life, the companionship and joy he brought was a thousand times greater.

When Martha Sims died, she did so peacefully in her home in Bournemouth, the same one she had lived in her entire married life, raised her son and then her grandson in. 

Jonathan had been curled up on the bed next to her in the end, and even though she knew he was terribly distraught, he still managed to purr for her sake.

Her final thoughts were on whether or not her dear grandson would ever live free of fear, if he would find love, if he would be happy. Her last words before closing her eyes for the final time was a whispered farewell, falling softly from her lips as the young man she had cared for ever since she had found him behind some bins all those years ago did his best to comfort her.

“Goodnight, Jonathan.”

Chapter Text

She hates me . I’ve lied to her for years and now she hates me. She doesn’t love me, maybe she never did, but certainly not now. Now that she knows. I’m a freak, a monster, and she could never love a monster.

I was a fool.

She pulled back, her face worryingly neutral and tried to look him in the eyes while he stared at his hands.

“This is a lot to take in, Jon.”

“Yes.”

She’s disgusted. I didn’t tell her and let things go too far. I took advantage of her kindness and I’m sure she’s realizing that.

“I’ll need some time to process this.”

He wished she would just rip the Band-Aid off. She was going to break up with him. No. More than that. She was going to fully reject him, as a partner and as a friend, and pretending like she wasn’t would only make things worse. It was cruel. Why was she being cruel?

His life had been naught but fear and suffering ever since he’d stopped being a true cat, and this was no different. 

Jon stood. Too fast, too stiff.

“I’ll just go.”

“Jon, you don’t have to-” Georgie tried to touch him but he flinched away. He didn’t want any empty comfort.

“You don’t have to act like….” Like it’s fine. Like we’ll be fine. “I’m going to go.”

Jonathan Sims never gave Georgie Barker any real time to process his story, he’d run away too fast, something he kept doing.

It’s all fresh in Jon’s mind as he stands outside of Georgie’s house. Her address had been seared into his brain ever since the Institute had contacted her following Melanie’s first statement, as had their last few conversations.

He thought about her a lot. He’d never been sure if he missed her or just missed having someone tell him they loved him.

Jon raised a hand to knock only to lower it again. It was dark out, as he had taken hours to arrive after his panicked flight from the institute. His mind was a jumbled mess of everything he had seen and heard in the last twenty four hours and his body was weary.

His breath billowed out in clouds before dissipating in the cold air as he shivered.

He raised his hand again and he could see it trembling.

When his knuckles struck the wood and the sound bounced around in his skull, he all at once felt exhausted, nauseous and so very, very afraid.

Ever since his conversation with Leitner the fear had been muted, muffled under his dozens of questions and anger, but the moment he crossed the point of no return on Georgie’s doorstep it all washed over him again.

Jon almost took a step back, he almost ran and disappeared into the night. Almost.

He tried to focus just on breathing instead. 

In.

Out.

There was movement on the other side of the door.

In.

Out.

The wood moved and there she was. Confused, sleepy and so, so hard to look in the eyes.

“Jon?” The confusion turned to worry mixed with shock.

“Georgie, I-I’m-”

She hugged him. Tight and warm and welcoming.

“Georgie I’m in so much trouble.”

~

Martin opened his email, scrolled up and down for a minute then closed it. He flipped through a statement folder, didn’t absorb a single word and then tossed it to the side. He took a sip of his tea only to wrinkle his nose in disgust when he realized it was cold.

At that point he decided to give up. Martin rolled his chair back and pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes.

Tim was with Sasha at the hospital currently and Martin doubted he’d see much of him until she was released or longer. Sasha’s confusion was finally clearing up, something that Michael said indicated she’d recover fairly quickly. Apparently confusion or madness were often permanent effects of the Distortion so she was already in a much better state than most.

Jon was missing. Again. And this time he was wanted for murder.

He and Tim had been interrogated by a very scary cop that Tim had later told him was detective Tonner, and according to Jon there was something very wrong with her.

Beyond Michael’s claim that the corpse was Jurgen Leitner, the police hadn’t been able to identify him so officially he was a John Doe. Unofficially Michael was saying Jon did the world a favor by bashing the old man’s skull in, and even in her grogginess Sasha and Tim had agreed. Martin however was sure Jon didn’t kill the old man, regardless of who he was. It was beyond frustrating that everyone else was ready to accept that Jon was capable of brutally pipe murdering someone and then just vanishing.

Michael had gone to Jon’s flat and cleared out some of his stuff since he had the wonderful ability of being so incredibly unnerving while also utterly forgettable so there was no real concern of him being stopped by the police. Now Martin had two bags and a box of Jon’s things hidden at his own flat.

Martin righted his glasses and went to dump his cold tea. This was the third cup he had made himself only for it to get cold. 

He wanted to drink it, he really did. He was so horribly cold and needed warmth, but no matter how carefully he made it, it still tasted bitter. 

Martin stood by the break room sink and shivered. For a second he considered just microwaving it, for as barbaric an act as it was, he just needed something warm to hold.

He took off his glasses and wiped them on his jumper before putting them back on and frowning. His vision was still hazy even after cleaning his lenses, and it might just be his imagination but all of the color around the archives seemed a bit dull.

He put the mug of old tea in the microwave but didn’t turn it on. Martin wandered back into the bullpen and then towards Jon’s office where he knew there were some blankets, or at least there had been before the place had been soaked in blood.

It was mid February but still… There was no need for it to be so horribly cold in the archives.

He found some tucked away on one of the higher shelves, no doubt a product of Jon’s love of climbing, and wrapped himself up before returning to the break room.

Martin looked at the microwave buttons, the green numbers blinking at him judgmentally as if they knew what he was about to do.

He punched in forty seconds and then let his finger hover over the start button. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair, and it never had been.

He pressed start and watched the interior of the microwave light up with his mug spinning inside.

He wanted Jon back. He wanted him safe. Happy. His.

God he was selfish. There were more important things than his feelings for Jon on the line.

The microwave beeped at him and he took the mug out, holding it in his freezing hands and trying to absorb as much heat from it as he could. He couldn’t bring himself to try and take a sip, the very idea was revolting and a betrayal to his standards for tea, but he could hold it.

He jumped when someone spoke to him, reheated tea splashing on the floor. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” There was a woman standing just within the breakroom, squinting at him with her hands in her coat pockets. She seemed a little familiar, with all of her piercings and blue highlights in her hair, but Martin couldn’t put a name to the face.

“Goodness.” He set the mug on the counter. “What are you doing sneaking around down here?”

“Sneaking?” she tilted her head back and glared. “I said hello like five times, you just didn’t hear me.”

“Still.” He checked his jumper for tea stains before looking her back in the eyes. “The archives aren’t open to the public so I’m not sure how you got in here.”

“No one was at the door. But that’s beyond the point, I’m looking for the Archivist.”

Someone wandering around looking for Jon was… It could mean any number of things.

“He’s not in.”

“Great.” The woman rolled her eyes and shifted to put some of her weight on the doorframe, and as she did so Martin noticed a cane leaning next to her which she took in hand for support.

“Oh, um, are you alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, sort of. Got shot. That’s what I want to talk to Jon about. If he’s not here can I talk to Tim?”

“You got shot??” Martin’s annoyance and suspicion lessened somewhat as concern set in.

“It’s mostly fine now, but like I said, it’s what I wanted to talk to Jon about. And where is Tim? They still work here right?”

“They… Yes. Tim’s… at the hospital with a loved one and Jon…. he’s missing. They think he killed someone.”

The woman looked genuinely shocked at his words before a more skeptical expression settled on her face.

“Jon? Killed someone? Doesn’t seem likely. What he’d do, bore them to death?”

“No, beaten to death with a metal pipe.” Martin wasn’t sure how much he should be telling this woman, but it was nice to say some of it out loud to someone .

“No fucking way. Who was it?”

Martin threw up his hands. “I don’t- the police couldn’t identify him. Some old man.”

The woman was shaking her head, blue hair falling into her eyes. “I’ve only met Jon a few times but beating an old man to death with a pipe doesn't sound like something he’d do.”

“I know! But everyone is just saying he did it!”

“Even Tim?”

“Tim wouldn’t care either way now that Sasha’s back.”

The woman lit up considerably when he said that. “Sasha’s back?!?”
“Yes, she- sorry who are you?”

“Oh, right.” She held out a hand to shake. “Melanie King.”

Martin took it and gave it a polite shake. “From Ghost Hunt UK?”

“Yup, and you are?”

“Ah, yes, Sorry. Martin Blackwood.”

“I think Jon mentioned you once. But you said Sasha was back?” Melanie seemed genuinely interested and it managed to spark back up some of his earlier annoyance. How come everyone in the archives knew Melanie except him?? No. This was not something to be annoyed about, get it together Blackwood.

“Yes, um. It was a whole thing. Jon… well he got her back but when Tim and I came back to the Institute she was here and Jon was gone and there was the body…. And well. Yeah. Tim’s at the hospital with her.”

“Hospital? Is she okay?”

“Sort of? She was really confused for a few days and now she’s just got to get her strength back you know? I’m not really sure, without Jon we can’t really know what all happened.”

Melanie was bobbing her head slightly and chewing her bottom lip as Martin spoke. She cocked her head to one side and made eye contact at the odd angle. “No one knows where he is?”

“No, didn’t go home, not at the Institute and we’re not sure where else he could be.”

Melanie pondered this for a movement before speaking, sounding a little unsure but soldiering on regardless. “I might have an idea as to where he is.”

Martin’s heart rate sped up at the prospect of finding Jon. “You do?”

“It’s just a hunch, but yes.”

“Well where?”

Her eyes focused back on him as her lips curled into a smirk. “Come on.”

~

It was the middle of the work day and he had a stack of statements to follow up on from before Sasha’s return, but instead of working Martin was standing in front of a little house on the other side of London with a woman he had met only a half hour ago.

It wasn’t like he was going to get in any real trouble, Jon was missing, (again) Tim was at the hospital with Sasha and Elias hadn’t done anything but be vague and weird recently so he figured missing work was the least of his concerns at the moment. 

As Melanie knocked on the door he did his best to not think too hard about whose house this was.

Jon kept throwing himself at women he’d never even heard about instead of asking Tim or himself for help and it was… frustrating to say the least. The really weird part was that Martin had talked to Georgie Barker over the phone after Melanie’s first statement, and at the time Jon hadn’t said a word about it.

A minute and a half had passed since Melanie had knocked and she raised her fist to do so again. “She’s usually home since she records here.”

Before she could knock again they could hear it unlocking and then they were standing face to face with Georgie. She was taller than Jon or Melanie, but not as tall as Martin was, her afro was relatively short but it suited her very well. Her face gave the distinct impression that she was very kind and didn’t take any shit.

She raised one eyebrow at the sight of him before her eyes landed on Melanie and smiled. “Mel! I wasn’t expecting you! How was-? What happened to your leg?”

Melanie tapped her foot with her cane to show it off. “Got shot, don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m here for kinda a weird reason? Jonathan Sims wouldn’t happen to be here would he?”

Georgie looked at Martin briefly before Melanie spoke again. “This is Martin, he works at the Magnus Institute with him.”

“You’re Martin?” Georgie seemed to relax upon hearing his name, but it did beg the question of how she knew him.

“Yes. I’m just worried about Jon.”

Georgie took a step back and held the door open. “Come on in. Figured people would come looking for him, I’m just glad you two are the first ones.” They shuffled in and as Melanie gave Georgie a hug Martin’s eyes swept the space for any sign of his boss. The living room didn’t show any sign of him, except… A cat jumped up onto the back of the couch and meowed loudly at them.

Martin felt like he might pass out. There was no way he had… that he was…

“Admiral!” Melanie cried and after kicking off her shoes went over to pet the cat. He headbutted her hand as soon as it was within reach and purred loudly.

Martin finally managed to breathe again. Of course that wasn’t Jon. This cat was a grey tabby, and Jon was a very brown boy.

Georgie gave him a little bit of a weird look. “Martin, are you okay?”

“Yeah, he just startled me is all.”

“Yes you did, you widdle stinker.” Melanie had scooped the cat up and was rocking him back and forth while nuzzling her face in his fur. All the while the cat purred on and on.

“Um.” He looked at Georgie who was watching the other woman and her cat fondly. “Where’s Jon?”

“Oh, right.” She looked at him only briefly before turning back to Melanie. “Actually, Mel, could you-?” 

It was as she was addressing the blue haired woman someone staggered out of the hall swaddled in a blanket and looking very groggy.

“Is the Admiral okay?” Jon blinked as he walked into the sunbeam from the living room window and tried to get his bearings.

He first noticed Melanie, still holding the grey cat. “Melanie???”

“The fuck is on your head?” She asked just as one of Jon’s ears twitched in surprise. 

“Jon!!!” Martin was moving forward before he could even really take everything in. 

“Martin???” Jon looked at him with wide eyes just in time to be caught up in a crushing hug.

He only just registered Melanie and Georgie talking in the background as he buried his face in Jon’s hair.

“Wait, is Jon a furry?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

Jon wiggled in his arms trying to free himself. “Martin, I-”

Martin just squeezed him tighter. “No. No. You can’t keep doing this.”

He managed to smother Jon into submission after about thirty seconds and then he just clung to him as if he’d disappear if he let go. After a long, silent hug he pulled back and looked down at the man he loved.

Bright green eyes, patchy beard, pockmark scars and long soft hair flowing around his ears.

Ears .

He suddenly remembered Melanie was in the room and instinctively looked at where he last saw her. She was standing next to Georgie, still holding The Admiral and looking at them both quizzically. 

Jon was standing there, ears and tail fully on display for her and was seemingly realizing it at the same time Martin was. He pulled back and his hands waved around him for a movement since he didn’t know what to do with them. “Melanie! I- um, uh-”

She had turned to Georgie. “What am I looking at here? Is Sims a furry or is there more going on that I should know about?”

She sighed and shook her head in response. “How about we all sit down and talk everything through, hmm?”

“ Please. ” Martin agreed and then looked back to Jon whose tail was a little puffed up, most likely from the fright of Melanie seeing him. He put both of his hands on the shorter man’s shoulders and prompted him to meet his eyes. “Can we please just talk?”

Jon held his gaze and then nodded. “Yes, I, I believe I owe everyone an explanation.”

Three hours, two pizzas and one good natured name calling session between Jon and Melanie later they all had the broad strokes of what was going on.

Melanie was sitting on the couch, the Admiral asleep on her lap and her face twisted up as she grappled with all of the new information. 

“So you were born a cat?”

“Yes.” Jon confirmed.

“And Sasha was lost in a hallway hellscape because the former hallway hellscape doorman tried to save her but got his identity eaten by the identity eating monster that lived in a table, but he didn’t have enough identity to eat so he just kinda became a guy. Then you convinced him to help you get back to the hallway hellscape by learning more about your mom, who foiled evil cult plots for decades, one of which involved feeding the former doorman to the hallways. So you smashed the table to finally convince him and then he made you think he was going to kill you so he could get back to the hallways and get Sasha. Then Jurgen Leitner, the guy whose books turned you from a cat to a man-cat showed up and tried to destroy the door, so you hit him with a pipe, interrogated him on these… gods?”

“They’re not gods in the way we typically think of gods.”

“Right, but he told you that these things that like to torment us, they’re from outside of our reality and he was working with Gertrude, your mom, to do….?”

“We didn’t get that far, I- I stepped out and….”

“And that’s when he was killed.” Martin finished. 

“Yes.” Jon looked down at his hands, apparently feeling ashamed about that part.

Jon was sitting at Martin's feet on the floor, leaning against his legs and even letting him occasionally run his fingers through his hair or rub his ears.

“What the fuck!” Melanie threw up her hands in exasperation. 

Not even bothering to acknowledge Melanie’s cries of frustration, Georgie looked at Jon. “Why did you leave Leitner alone?” She was lounging on the other end of the couch, her elbow digging into the cushion under her and her head supported by her hand.

Jon was picking at the pajama pants which Martin suspected were actually Georgie’s.

“I, um. I’m not sure. I just… I….” His voice trailed off and his eyes fixed on the patterned rug he was sitting on. Martin inhaled to say something when Jon suddenly jumped to his feet. “That’s right!” he ran back down the hall he had first emerged from when Martin and Melanie had arrived. Everyone’s heads snapped up to watch him dart away, even the Admiral’s.

“What is he…?” Melanie started to ask but let the unfinished question hang in the air.

A moment later Jon reappeared, holding something in one hand over his head. “This!” He took several  large steps until he was right behind the couch where Georgie and Melanie were sitting before pausing and looking at what he was holding with a frown and glassy eyes. “Wait, no. This isn’t right.” He moved to put away or hide whatever he was holding but Georgie had already reached back and grabbed his wrist. Jon squeaked in surprise as she wrestled whatever it was away from him and looked at it.

“A lighter?” 

Melanie leaned over to get a better look, careful to not disturb the Admiral anymore.

“It’s fancy. Gold with Spiderwebs.”

“What does this have to do with it, Jon?” Georgie asked, tilting her head back to look up at Jon who was still standing behind the couch. 

“Well, I- I stepped out. I wasn’t going to leave the archives, but then I remembered I had that in my pocket and, I-” His eyes darted around as if trying to recall what exactly happened. “I remember staring at it for a little while, thinking about how I should get rid of it. I guess more time passed than I realized because when I went back Leitner was…. Well… You know.”

“Chunky spaghetti sauce?” Melanie supplied. 

“Geeze, Mel.” Georgie winced.

“Wait….” Martin squinted at the lighter. “This isn’t the same lighter that was sent to you with the table?”

“Did you get a cursed lighter along with your cursed table?” Melanie raised one eyebrow and ran her fingers through the Admiral’s fur.

“It’s not-” Jon’s eyes slipped off of the lighter only to come back to it. “Oh. It might be cursed.”

“Okay this is going away.” Georgie got up and went to the china cabinet in her kitchen, unlocked one of the glass doors, tossed the lighter behind some of the plates and locked it again. She then safely tucked the key in her pocket. When she turned back and saw Jon staring at her glassy eyed she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You didn’t start smoking, did you?”

“No! I- No. I tried it once and you know how that went.” Jon crossed his arms like a pouty child.

Melanie had a big mischievous grin on her face. “Georgie, how did it go?”

“Jon wanted to try and ‘be cool’ or to fit in or something so when Aarron offered him a cig he took it and immediately tried to smoke despite never having done so before. He choked and it was a good fifteen minutes before he could properly breathe. Derailed the whole night.”

Jon’s tail was whipping with annoyance and Melanie laughed at the sight.

“Oh this is something else.” She wheezed. “Evil ghost gods are real and this guy is a cat.”

“It’s really not funny.” Martin said as he got up to stand next to Jon. 

“It’s not but if I don’t laugh I’m gonna start smashing things.”

Martin put a hand on Jon’s back, who didn’t respond other than to flick an ear in his direction. 

“There’s still the issue of Jon being wanted for murder.”

Georgie leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms folded over her chest. “He can stay with me for the time being. We’re going to need to clear his name somehow.”

“Elias killed Gertrude, and it must have been him who killed Lietner.” Jon said, tail still twitching but no longer swinging wildly. 

“Okay, now how do we prove it?”

“I’m not sure.”

Melanie made a small sound of disappointment as the Admiral abandoned her lap in favor of the radiator, then reached for her cane as she positioned her bad leg to stand. “Great job on this, Sims. Getting yourself framed for murder and all.”

“It’s not like you have much room to talk,” He leaned over the back of the couch to give her a dirty look. “You went off to India to get shot by ghosts.”

“Getting shot by a ghost is a respectable way to ruin your life. And I only ruined things a little.” She finally managed to get her cane in hand and stand. “Speaking of which, ghosts or not, I still need a new job.”

“Don’t work at the Magnus Institute.” Martin offered.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Got that.”

“Getting you a job is a little simpler than clearing Jon of murder so one of these things takes precedence over the other.” Martin said.

“Nah.” She limped over to Georgie.

“What do you mean ‘Nah’?”

“Nah.” She said again as she rummaged around for snacks.

Martin huffed incredulously but Jon snickered a little and Melanie had that stupid smirk on her face again.

She had been poking fun and he had been so caught up in the moment he had missed it.

“Well anyway.” Georgie interjected before Melanie could bait someone else into arguing with her. “As I was saying, Jon can stay with me for a while-”

“Can I?” Melanie asked with big, pleading eyes as she helped herself to Georgie’s trail mix.

“-Um…” Georgie looked between Jon and Melanie, clearly caught in an awkward place. 

Jon put up his hands. “It's up to you Georgie.”

“Instead of going out for drinks we could stay in for them!” Melanie raised the bag of trail mix excitedly. 

“Going out for drinks?” Martin looked at Jon in confusion.

“Well Melanie mentioned before that-”

“Okay! Okay!” Georgie talked over them all to regain some control. “Sure, Mel. You can crash here for a bit, but you have to get some of your own stuff. Let’s rehash some of this in the morning, I’m too tired tonight.”

She turned to Martin. “You’re welcome to spend the night too, but just the night. Sorry but you’ll have to go home after that.”

“No that’s fine it’s just- Oh!” He turned to Jon who was watching the Admiral nap on the radiator rather enviously. “Michael managed to get a bunch of stuff from your flat, it’s at mine.”

“Why doesn’t Sims stay with you?” Melanie asked around a mouthful of peanuts. 

“Mel, we just ate.” Georgie muttered.

Martin frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “The police are more likely to look at my flat for him, and if Daisy catches wind of it we’re toast.”

Jon growled a little, deep in his throat and his ears angled back. “ Daisy. ”

“Who’s Daisy?” George asked.

“Just a really scary cop who might not be human.” Marin supplied. 

“Great.”

The conversation tapered off as Melanie munched on Georgie’s food and Jon gravitated to the radiator where the Admiral already was. 

Georgie stretched, her back popping as she did. “Anyway, I’ve got to get some editing done, you're welcome to crash here tonight so we can figure more stuff out in the morning.” When she disappeared down the hall and Melanie followed, Martin and Jon were left alone.

“Looks like Melanie will be here for a while as well.” Jon was maybe trying to joke, or just make conversation, but now that it was just the two of them he looked like he might wilt.

“Jon-”

“I’m sorry, Martin.” The shorter man said quickly. “I broke my promise again.”

“You got Sasha back. I think I’ll cope since that was the outcome.”

Jon’s eyes flickered up to his face and then back to the ground or the wall.

“Right. How is she?”

“She’s going to be okay. The doctors and Michael expect she’ll be right as rain any day now. Just needs some bedrest. Tim’s been with her every second that he can.”

Jon smiled, his expression fond. “I’m glad they’re together again.”

I’m glad we’re together again.

Martin didn’t say it, but if Jon could read minds he’d probably wince from how strong the thought was.

“I think they’ll be okay.” Hesitantly, since he might ruin everything, Martin reached out to take Jon’s hand. The other man let him, still with that fond look on his face.

“I think we’ll be okay too.”

“Yeah.” Jon gave his hand a little squeeze before dropping it.

They stood a little awkwardly next to each other without speaking for a moment before Jon broke the silence. “Georgie said you’re welcome to spend the night.”

“Oh, no. I- I should really get going. Don’t want to impose.”

“Are you sure-?”

“Yeah, just. Pretty awkward and all, plus I’ll have to go home and get your things.” Martin hoped that Jon would drop it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend every second he could with Jon, it was just that there were two women here that he barely knew and he was due for a good long cry and he wasn’t about to risk having one in front of them. 

“Okay, well… Um. Have a good night. Be safe.”

“I will, and you too.”

Martin looked down at Jon, lovely, stupid Jon, and once again he had to fight the urge to lean down and kiss him.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Martin left Georgie’s house and hardly made it a block away before he had to lean against a wall and sob.

Sasha was back and Jon was okay. He was okay. He was safe and okay. Martin loved him and he was okay. 

They were going to be okay. They had to be. They had been through too much not to be.

Chapter Text

“What was that?” 

Jon jumped hearing Melanie’s voice right behind him. Martin had just left and he had been staring at the door, completely lost in his own thoughts so he didn’t notice her getting so close to him. 

“Melanie!?! Where did you come from?” 

“Hallway. And as I was saying, what is going on between you and that guy?” Melanie walked around him to go back in the kitchen, her phone in hand.

“Martin? He’s a friend from work.” Jon swished his tail anxiously. He wasn’t sure what Melanie was on about, he and Martin had just said goodbye to each other. Sure it had been a little tense, but that’s because there were a lot of crazy things going on.

“Friends from work don’t often act like that.” She said as she rolled her eyes, something she did quite a lot as Jon was noticing.

“He’s probably mad at me after I disappeared and didn’t contact him.”

She snorted and pulled a bottle of wine from one of the cupboards, shooting him a look over her shoulder that he couldn’t interpret. “Is that what you think that was? He was mad at you? He smothered you for a solid two minutes when he first saw you and had his hands on you at every opportunity. He’s not mad at you.”

Jon slunk to the couch, grabbed one of the blankets and began wrapping himself up. “Then I’m not sure what you’re asking about.”

“Oh for the love of- he likes you! It’s so plain to see! I’ve known him for like half a day and I can tell he’s mad about you!” Melanie was holding a wine glass in one hand and a corkscrew in the other and from the way she was waving them around while she talked he worried she was going to break something. He was so distracted by this in fact, that it took him a few seconds to grasp what she was saying.

“Wha-? Martin? No. That’s- that’s absurd. We’re just friends.”

“Uh huh.”

He was glad that he was wrapped in a blanket so that she couldn’t see him flicking his tail back and forth. 

“Seriously Melanie, I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that Martin likes me as anything more than a friend.”

She limped over to the couch, glasses and bottle in hand. “From the way he was fawning over you the entire time he was here. Or the way he was anxiously pestering me about where you might be as soon as we started talking about it, or even just how you are the only thing he could think about for more than twelve seconds.”

Jon blinked at her, huddled on the other end of the couch as he tried to formulate a response. “No.”

She poured herself a glass of wine. “No?”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh my god, whatever. We’ll just have to see what Georgie thinks.” 

They sat on the couch casting little sneers at each other for a few minutes before Georgie made her way into the living room. “You two behaving?”

“I’m behaving, I don’t know what Melanie’s on about.” Jon burrowed farther down under his blanket.

“I’m not doing anything!” Melanie cried. “I just got us some wine.”

“Aw, thanks Mels.” Georgie sat on the couch between the two of them.

“So Georgie,” Melanie began. “What did you think of Martin?”

Jon knew what she was doing, she was trying to get Georgie on her side with this ridiculous idea that Martin had feelings for him.

“He seemed nice?” She responded hesitantly, clearly aware that Melanie was getting at something.

“What else?” 

“I didn’t really talk to him much.”

“Do you think he has feelings for Jon?”

It was Jon’s turn to roll his eyes.

Georgie took a sip of her wine, one eyebrow raised. She swirled the red liquid in the glass before setting it on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch and responding.

“Oh yes. He’s hopelessly smitten.”

“What!?!” Jon sat up straight. “Georgie really you can’t agree with her!”

“Jon. I know you’re dense, but seriously?” Georgie was making eye contact while reaching to take another sip of her wine and Melanie was on the other side of her giggling. 

He threw up his hands in defeat. “Maybe! There’s been a lot of things going on and I’ve been more concerned with my mother’s murder and Sasha getting eaten by halls so forgive me if I’ve been a bit oblivious to my co-worker’s feelings!”

“Hmmm, knowing your track record and with what’s going on I guess it makes sense. But now that you know, what do you think?”

Her words made Jon pause and actually think about what he’d just been told. What did he think about Martin liking him?

Looking back it both made sense and seemed so far fetched he was still reeling from it. He had been a dick to Martin so often that he had a hard time believing that the man could catch feelings for him, but on the other hand it would explain some of his odd behavior.

More than that, now he had to think about what he was going to do about it. Should he ignore it? Should he try to talk to Martin about it?

He slunk farther down amongst the blankets he had accumulated with a grumble of frustration. “I don’t think I have the energy to really think about this.”

“How about a movie then?” Georgie suggested and stood to find the remote.

“No! We can’t let him off the hook that easily!” Melanie was pouring herself another glass of wine while she complained. 

“You don’t know Jon like I do.” Georgie lifted the cushion on the recliner as she continued her search. “He’s a master at avoiding his own feelings.”

Jon had buried himself under soft fabric. “Some of them.” He muttered bitterly to himself.

“Bah. I bet Tim would gossip about it with me.” Melanie crossed her arms and slunk down on the couch.

One of Jon’s ears twitched. Tim. He struggled through his blanket nest to sit upright. “Tim knows!! That’s what he’s been so smug about!”

Melanie laughed with a snort and Georgie just sighed as she scrolled through Netflix. “You’re hopeless.”

After watching the JJ. Abrams Star Trek movie from 2009, which Jon mostly slept through, Melanie had had her fill of wine and Georgie had helped her to bed in the guest room. Jon had already offered it up to her seeing as he was content to sleep on a blanket on the floor so long as it was warm enough.

When Georgie returned he was still curled up under several blankets on the couch and she flopped down next to him. She tipped her head back and sighed through her nose with her eyes closed. They stayed still without speaking for a while before she rolled her head to look at him.

“For the record, I am sorry.”

He blinked slowly at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when we broke up. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, both before you showed up on my doorstep last week and since. I just want to let you know that even if we didn’t work out as a couple, it always bothered me that I lost you as a friend for so long.”

Jon couldn’t stop the purr that was building in his chest. He was warm, he was as safe as he could be and accepted.

“That always bothered me too. Thank you.”

She smiled at him, very softly and fondly, before taking a deep breath and shifting to fully face him. “Soooo….. Martin?”

His ears immediately angled back and he made a grumbling noise of annoyance. “What about Martin?”

“Well, he likes you. Do you like him?”

“I-” The question had caught him off guard. It was exactly the sort of thing people asked when talking about crushes and the like, but now she wanted him to tell her what his feelings were, and that was much more complicated.

“He’s a friend. I like my friends. That's kind of the whole point with friends is that you like them.”

He chopped the air with one hand as he spoke for emphasis and Georgie just rolled her eyes. 

“No, I mean, do you like like him?”

“No!” Jon threw his hand ups even as he felt his face heating up. “I just- He’s just a friend! There’s been a lot of stuff happening recently and it’s all just been really confusing, but he’s nothing more than a friend!” He crossed his arms like a pouting child and sank back under the blankets when he was done with his rant.

“Alright.” Georgie shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re just getting really worked up about it.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”
“No.”

“Hmmm.” 

She left it alone for a while and they just sat on the couch in silence together.

Jon watched the little blue light on Georgie’s playstation blink at him while he thought.

Why did it always come back to Martin? Does he trust Martin? Does he hate Martin? Is Martin spying on him? Does Martin like him? Does he like Martin? Ever since he had met the man everything in his life had been a whirlwind of emotions and while a lot of them were because of things Martin had nothing to do with, he only served to complicate things for him at every turn.

The last person to catch feelings for him was Georgie and they both knew how that ended, so he wasn’t optimistic that things would work out with Martin. Not that he was planning on dating him, it was just that he was trying to think it all through.

He sat up a little straighter and glanced at Georgie who had her head tilted back and her eyes closed.

“So, um. Since we were just talking about Martin.”

Her face twitched into a smirk, a detail that was not lost on him but he soldiered on regardless. “He knows I was born a cat, and that I’m….” He gestured vaguely to all of himself. “...You know. But he doesn’t know that I don’t- that I’m not….”

“That you’re ace?” Georgie finished.

“Yeah, that.”

“If that’s worrying you you should just talk to him about it.”

“Should I?” Jon picked at a loose thread on one of the blankets. “I mean, he likes me, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea or be upset or, or….”

She sighed. “Why don’t you take some to figure out your feelings about him first? No need to jump the gun and talk about sexuality before then.”

“You’re right. Thank you.”

They fell into comfortable silence again for a while.

She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before letting it out. “I never told you this, but I had an encounter with… one of these things. Years back, before I met you.”

With the shift in topic Jon sat up a little and tilted his head to the side curiously. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s… is there one like death?”

“The End, I think it’s called.”

She pushed herself up with a little grunt. “How about I make us some tea and tell you a story.”

Jon tried not to feel too excited at the prospect of hearing a statement and just nodded.

The tape recorder on the coffee table turned on, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered where it had come from .

Chapter Text

Jon’s dreams were the regular mix of horrible statements and his actual experiences. A grave filled with fog, a classroom covered in blood, a coffin on the side of the road, a man eating his keyboard and all of the others.

He rolled and twitched as the nightmares got worse, the blanket getting tangled around him.

All at once it came crashing down, all of the terror and suffering shattering and vanishing as he woke with a start.

He was on the floor in Georgie’s living room, the morning sun warming him where he lay surrounded by blankets and pillows. He felt something nudge his side and looked up to see Melanie peering down at him.

“Bad dreams?” She asked, her tone flat.

“Yeah.”

She hummed in acknowledgement before turning to pull something from behind her into sight. 

“One of Georgie’s sponsors sent her a bunch of coffee stuff, but look at this huge box it all came in.” She presented him with a large cardboard box, one that a person could easily sit in.

She knocked it on its side and then just stood there expectantly. Jon was still sleepy and warm from the sun and there was a lot going on in his life, so without little to no thought on the matter he crawled into the box, curled up and with some soft purring tried to go back to sleep.

He awoke slowly to the sound of movement and quiet chatter.
Jon stretched out, bumping into the walls of the box in the process and having to readjust so his arms and legs were sticking out at odd angles. The soft noise that had stirred him from sleep was becoming sharper as the seconds passed. Soft footsteps, giggling, things being moved around.

He blinked, shifted a little more to lay on his back and blinked again. There were some large shapes looming over him which was a little odd. He squinted up at whatever was around him and scrambled to his feet while trying to back up all at once when he realized what they were. 

“Oh shit!” Tim tried to grab his arms before he could fall back onto the floor after immediately backing up and tripping over the box he had just been sleeping in. Tim missed and Jon fell down with flailing limbs and a puffed up tail.

“Tim! Martin!” Jon tried to get on his feet again quickly. “What are you-?”

Taking a quick look around he realized that everyone was present, and that meant everyone everyone.

Tim and Martin were standing near him, Tim had his phone in one hand and Martin had hastily put his away, Melanie was laughing at him where she stood next to Georgie in the kitchen, and Michael was sipping a drink while standing next to a woman in a wheelchair.

The woman’s face registered with him and everything else was forgotten in an instant.  

“Sasha!” The fact that Tim and Martin had undoubtedly been taking pictures of him was pushed from his mind as he kicked the box out of his way. She looked tired, but her eyes shone with alertness and ever shifting colors and her skin had a healthy glow. Jon hurried over to her and carefully gave her a hug.

“You’re here!”

“Yes, Jon. I’m here. You got me back.”

After the gentle hug he pulled back and looked at her more closely. The distortion had left its mark on her, from the way her eyes kept shifting in ways he couldn’t keep track of and how it was hard to get his vision to focus on her for too long it was apparent something was different, but only time would tell how much it would affect her. 

“How are you?” He wasn’t sure if he should kneel, hold her hand or any number of things, so instead he stood in front of her awkwardly. 

“I’m okay. Weak, but I can think straight again, so that’s an improvement. Tim’s been with me the whole time.”

Tim had come over to them and was now holding Sasha’s hand, and when she said his name they looked at each other and smiled. Their faces were so full of love he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. 

“I’ve been helping too.” Michael chimed in.

“Yeah…..” Tim squinted at the tall man and sounded a little unsure. Jon knew Michael messed with people’s perception of him and their memories so it was hard to say if Tim really knew who he was at all times.

Sasha gave a soft laugh. “Michael has certainly been around. That’s for sure.”

“Archivist,” Michael moved away from Sasha’s chair to grab a bag by the door. “Your things.”

“Some of your things.” Martin piped up from behind Jon. “I’ve got some more stuff over there.”

The bag from Michael had an odd weight to it so Jon unzipped it to take a look at what was inside. There looked to be a lot of oddities from his apartment, including the wooden box with “his” ashes in it. He glanced up at Michael who had a mischievous smile on his face that Jon really didn’t like, but he didn’t want to take the risk of opening the box then and there and everyone seeing it’s contents. 

“Thank you.” He set the bag next to the ones Martin had pointed out and went to rummage through the rest of them. He pulled out his favorite relaxing dress with a chirp and a few other things and excused himself to go change. When he re-entered the living room Martin was immediately by his side and the conversations he had had with Melanie and Georgie the night before came back to him. He made the firm decision to sit next to someone else while he tried to figure out how to handle the situation, so even as he tried to give Martin a warm smile he slipped past him to go find a place to settle next to Sasha.

Once settled on the floor next to Sasha’s chair since Tim was in the armchair on the other side, Jon glanced up at Martin who was still smiling but it looked a little strained. 

“So.” Sasha spoke up to get everyone’s attention. “We need to discuss everything we know.” Then she looked at Michael pointedly, who in turn flashed a sharp grin.

“Of course. The Archivist learned a great deal from Leitner it would seem, but there’s more to know.”

“You’re going to give us answers?” Jon asked skeptically. The blonde laughed, “I’ve finally made up my mind as to whose side I’m on. My own. But it’s in my own interest that you all know about what’s coming. About the Stranger.”

And so they got into it.

Fourteen fears, fourteen rituals, a slew of artifacts and monsters and of course avatars.

“I am of the Stranger,” Michael said while everyone listened intently, “My nature being one of stolen identities and warped memories, but the Distortion has changed the very nature of my being so drastically that I’m in no way bound to my old ways, nor to the Circus.” 

When the Circus of the Other had been first mentioned and ever since, Tim had become very tense, holding onto Sasha’s hand tightly and keeping his gaze fixed on the wall.

“Sasha,” the resident identity stealing, door manipulating monster man continued, “Is marked by The Spiral. It may demand service from her just as The Eye demands service from you.” He gestured to Jon who just twitched an ear in response. “But we don’t know if that’s the case yet.” 

“What about Helen?” Jon asked.

“Digested, most likely. It’s not often that The Throat of Delusion lets someone go, much less a second time. Sasha was meant to be a guest passing through but I didn’t have the power to open the door for her again for a while, which is why she lasted as long as she did.”

“But Helen was only ever meant to be a victim.” Jon looked down at his hands as the shame and grief  threatened to creep into his voice. A hand was gently placed on his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself Jon.” It was Sasha’s voice. “It’s a miracle we both made it out of there.”

“There’s also the issue of the fact that the four of us can’t quit the archives.” Martin added as he looked down at his cup of tea. Most everyone had a beverage and or snacks because if they were going to face otherworldly horrors they might as well have creature comforts like blankets and tasty treats.

“Michael wasn’t as aware of the ins and outs of the archives as previous assistants during his lifetime, Gertrude made sure to keep him in the dark. I imagine that’s why Elias didn’t tell you anything about the Archivist position. Easier to manipulate someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.” Michael shrugged.

“Why did you get promoted to Archivist?” Georgie wondered as she sat up a little straighter and The Admiral stirred from where he was curled up next to her. “I mean, it’s not like you have a degree in library sciences, and you wouldn’t be my first pick for monster hunter, no offense.”

“I’m not my first pick for monster hunter either.” Jon said with a shrug.

“Sasha, didn’t you have a theory?” Martin looked at her from where he was sitting on the couch. “You mentioned something about it right after we all started in the archives.”

“Oh, ummm….” Sasha suddenly looked embarrassed, staring down at her hands and fidgeting with the blanket Tim had draped around her.

“It’s just…”

Everyone was looking at her intently now. Jon was incredibly curious as to what her opinion was. There had always been the understanding that she should have gotten the job, at least before they had realized just how abnormal the position was, and while Jon had jumped at the opportunity he knew he wasn’t the most likely candidate.

“I just figured….” Sasha glanced at Jon briefly before her eyes darted away. “You know I figured out the whole cat thing well before the archives and….” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I just figure Elias has a thing for cat boys.”

The silence in the room was palpable. 

One of Jon’s ears twitched. “Huh?”

“Some people,” Sasha continued, looking horribly embarrassed. “Really like human cat hybrids as a concept, as in cat boys or cat girls, and Elias might be one of those people.”

Tim’s tense silence was broken by him bending over as he tried to muffle his snorting laughter.

Melanie had an expression like she had just heard the juiciest, most scandalous gossip ever, Georgie had a hand over her eyes, Michael looked amused and Martin had a wide eyed look of horror on his face as Jon tried to wrap his head around what Sasha was suggesting.

“No!” He cried and jumped up from the floor.

“I mean, I don’t know that’s the reason, it’s just a theory.” Sasha spread her hands helplessly and looked at Jon apologetically. 

Finding out Martin had feelings for him was confusing enough, hearing the idea that Elias might fancy him was honestly too much for Jon to handle currently. Eldritch horrors be damned, office romances were much worse.

“There’s been too many shocking revelations for him in too short an amount of time.” Georgie got up off of the couch as she spoke and put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “He’s going to short circuit.”

“I’m fine, I just need a minute to think.” Jon buried his face in his hands and took a calming breath. It didn’t really matter if Elias was…. Attracted to him, there were much more pressing issues at hand.

“While the Archivist thinks on this matter, I have something important to share.” Hearing Michael’s announcement, Jon parted his fingers to see what was going on with one eye and was rewarded with the sight of everyone training their attention on the blonde monster as he pulled something from his pocket.

Jon pulled his hands away from his face to get a better look at what Michael was holding out to show to Sasha and Tim.

Was that…..?

No.

Oh no.

No no no .

As Michael held out the little photo for Tim and Sasha, he saw each of their eyes widen before Sasha covered her mouth with one hand as a grin stretched her lips and Tim bit down on one of his knuckles. 

“What? What is it?” Melanie asked from where she was sitting. At her question Tim took the photo from Michael and darted over to the couch to show the others. Jon wanted to intercept him, keep him from waving around that damnable photo any more than it already had been, but he was frozen. The shock and conflicted feelings made him lock up and left him helpless, unable to do anything but watch as Tim presented the three on the couch with his deeply personal possession. 

Melanie’s jaw dropped and her eyes bulged out of her skull, Georgie bit her lip but couldn’t fully fight down the smile on her face and Martin….

Martin was so flushed his face matched his hair. His lips were slightly parted in a silent gasp and his eyes were so intently trained on the image in front of him nothing else seemed to register.

There was no air in Jon’s lungs, just a rushing feeling like the floor had fallen out from under him as Martin’s eyes finally left the photo and met his. 

Jon swallowed as he tried to find his voice. He hadn’t even seen the photo Michael had produced, but he knew what it was.

“Is this you?” Martin's voice was a much higher pitch than usual, his freckles all but invisible amongst his blush.

The question broke whatever debilitating trance Jon had been in and he snatched the photo from Tim, who was still grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s kitten Jon!” Melanie squealed as she fell against Georgie, kicking her good leg out of sheer mirth.

*Image is blurry on purpose* 

All at once everyone was giggling at his distress, although he was pretty sure it was mostly Melanie and Tim while Georgie and Sasha tried to calm each of them down. 

He was making eye contact with Martin and all at once was aware of how hot he was feeling.

Why must the universe make him suffer like this? What had he ever done to deserve this?

Jon was mere moments away from running when the sound of paper hitting the floor caught his attention.

Everyone else was still too caught up in their amusement of his kitten picture to notice but he turned towards the source of the noise.

Reality seemed to shift as his eyes landed on what was lying by the door. The sound of his friends laughing and talking dwindled into nothingness behind him and the hardwood floor stretched in front of him like a vast wilderness between him and what had just fallen through the mail slot.

He took a step towards it, the photo of him and Gertrude still pinched between his fingers held by his chest.

“Jon?” It was Martin saying his name, but he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge him. 

He reached what was lying by the front door and stooped down to pick it up, all at once aware that the room had gone quiet. 

“What’s that?” Georgie asked.

Jon picked up the manila envelope that had captivated him and opened the flap to see what was inside.

“It’s a statement.”

It was in a paper folder, labeled like all of the others and containing official Institute paper.

“Wait, like a statement statement?” Martin was right behind him now and Jon could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was so close.

“Yes it’s… It’s….” Jon flipped over the envelope it had come in and saw his name on it. “It’s addressed to me.”

“What’s it doing here?” He heard Sasha’ voice but didn’t respond. He slid the paper out of the envelope and sat to read it.

He inhaled only to have the papers wretched from his hands before he could start.

Martin was standing over him, statement in hand and looking down at him with a look of worry. 

“Jon….”

“Martin.” He reached for the papers that had been taken from him but Tim and Georgie had also moved closer and Tim grabbed his wrist.

“We know how you get with statements sometimes and this is way too weird to just let you read it now.”

Jon felt static dance along his tongue and his thoughts were fuzzy with it. 

He had enough of a sense for the supernatural to know what he was feeling wasn’t his normal level of curiosity and it was making him nauseous. 

“I think I need a moment.”

Tim kept hold of his wrist even as he gave up on trying to get the papers and Martin handed the statement off to Georgie so she could read it first.

Michael let out a little laugh. “He really is the perfect Archivist.”

Sasha gave the blonde a dirty look as Jon sat on the floor and tried to ignore the static buzzing in his ears. Martin and Tim were talking as he rubbed his eyes.

“So this has to be from Elias, right?”

“Obviously. Whatever his game is, he wants Jon to read statements.”

Martin sat down next to Jon while Tim let go of his wrist and went back over to Sasha.

Jon had never been human so he wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that he was transforming into some sort of monster, you could say he had always been one, but being beholden to new urges and instincts was terrifying. There was a big difference between the sorts of things he did because of his feline instincts and what he could do because of the influence of the Eye. Pouncing on bugs and feeding off of fear weren’t the same at all.

The urge to read that statement, the way he felt while reading them wasn't normal, and it was only the beginning. 

He had resolved to keep his distance from Martin while he figured out his feelings, but when the larger man wrapped his arms around him and held him while they sat on the floor he let him. There was a scent on his jumper like the air after rain, or fog and at first touch the fabric was cold so he fully pressed against his assistant.

He wasn’t the only one with problems. 

Georgie finally looked up from the statement with a grimace. “Looks like it’s about mannequins coming to life.”

“The Stranger!” Michael piped up. “Perhaps Elias is, in his own way, trying to prepare you for when the Circus attempts a ritual.”

“Well, he sucks at it.” Tim spat.

“Then why did he kill Leitner?” Sasha wondered aloud. 

“Why does that asshole do anything!” Tim threw up his hands in exasperation and Sasha placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“He knows that Jon’s here.” Georgie didn’t sound happy about that fact. “And from what we’ve learned about the Eye it’s possible he’s known all along.”

“But he didn’t send Daisy here.” Martin offered as he rubbed Jon’s back.

“Daisy….” Jon muttered while still massaging his temples.

Daisy. Daisy. Daisy.

What was wrong with Daisy?

“I think Daisy might be a hunter.”

“An avatar of the Hunt?” Sasha glanced at Tim, her face strained with worry before turning her attention back to Jon.

“I-I think so. It would make sense.”

“That just means she’s especially dangerous.” Sasha looked at Michael for confirmation who just flashed a wicked grin at her as if in agreement.

“What about Basira?” Tim offered. “Could she help?”

Jon’s tail flicked back and forth. “With what?”

“Any of it!”

Jon was hesitant to try and reach out to Basira, last time he had talked to her she had wanted out and he had trapped enough people in this already. 

“Last we spoke she had seemed pretty done with it all. She got me a bunch of Gertrude’s tapes and that was more than I could have hoped.”

“Yeah, pretty sure we don’t need Basira’s help.” Martin sounded aggressively sure of that statement.

“Basira?” Sasha asked, looking at each of the boys in turn.

“Oh, we didn’t tell you about Basira.” Jon sat up a little straighter. “She’s- she was a police officer assigned to your missing person’s case as well as Gertude’s murder. She was giving me the tapes the police confiscated, but she ended up quitting for other reasons.”

“Do you think she would help if we asked her?” Sasha was looking at him with her dizzying eyes and it was making Jon a little light headed. 

“Maybe? I- I’m not sure. I think we were friends, but…. If it came down to me or Daisy I don’t think she’s going to pick me.” That was the crux of it. He hoped he was friends with Basira, he liked Basira, but the way she had talked about Daisy made it clear that he had nothing on her.

“Well, it sounds like Basira isn’t our best bet for getting your name cleared but we shouldn’t forget about her.”

It was so nice having Sasha back. It was nice having someone who could just think about things rationally and not get caught up in every little emotion they had.

He, Martin and Tim had really struggled without her for many reasons, and her ability to compartmentalize information and make sense of it was one of them.

“So.” Georgie was standing with her arms crossed and looking at them all in turn. “It sounds like we need to clear Jon’s name, and to do that we need to figure out how to get Elias to confess or find proof he did it, in the meantime we need to make sure Daisy doesn’t find Jon and figure out how to stop The Circus from ending the world?”

“Sounds about right.” Martin confirmed.

“I’ve got some ideas on Elias.” Tim offered.

“Are they good ideas?” Sasha looked up at him with a frown.

“I’ve got ideas.” Tim repeated. 

“Michael and I can start looking for any Circus related statements in the archives tomorrow.” Martin said as he finally got up off of the floor and Michael just nodded in agreement.

“I can try asking some of my old ghost hunting buddies about clowns or circuses. It’s a long shot but it’s better than nothing.” Melanie offered.

“We’ll need to follow up on the statement Elias sent, it has to be important.” Jon stood next to Martin. “We don’t have a lot to go on right now, but it’s a start.”

Jon was suddenly hit by a wave of emotions. This was basically everyone he cared about in one place, all discussing how to help each other, how to help him .

There was some conversation floating around as Tim argued with Sasha about how he only had good ideas and Georgie and Martin were discussing what sort of proof they needed to clear his name.

When was the last time he felt so cared for? Has he ever?

Melanie was laughing at something Michael had said and The Admiral was meowing at his food dish.

Sasha was saying something to him, calling him over to where she sat with Tim. It sounded like they needed him to settle some sort of dispute.

Things were far from being alright, what with the murders and monsters, but at that moment it didn’t seem so bad.

Martin was the last to leave. Sasha had reached her limit for the day so Tim took her home and Michael had followed after them like a lost puppy.

So for the second day in a row, Jon was alone with Martin Blackwood in Georgie’s living room.

“So.” Martin began as he sat unbearably still. “How’s it been here so far?”

They were both on the couch but on opposite ends. Jon was reeling from everything he had heard and discovered in the last few weeks, about the Institute, about his mother, the Fears and Martin.

“It’s been…” Jon was working very hard to look anywhere except at Martin as he spoke. “It was very quiet before Melanie moved in. It’s been much more lively with her here. Georgie really comes to life when she’s around.” 

“They seem close.”

“I think they are.”

Martin opened his mouth to say something else but Jon cut him off. “I really should read that statement myself.”

“Jon, I don’t-”

“Look.” Jon gestured to himself. “I’m in too deep not to.”

Martin took a shaky breath but didn’t argue. “Okay.” The larger man stood from the couch. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Right. Thank you.” A part of him didn’t want his assistant to leave, another part couldn’t wait for him to be out the door. It was just really confusing to be around him and Jon didn’t want to end up doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back later.

Martin paused by the door, giving Jon a weak smile. “I’ll be in touch, as will the others. Stay safe.”

“You too.” Jon tried to put some genuine cheer into the smile he shot back at the redhead, and from the way his shoulders relaxed a little it seemed like he had somewhat managed it.

When the front door shut and he was alone, Jon’s eyes immediately darted to the china cabinet where Georgie had locked away his lighter. He stared at it for a solid minute before sighing and going to find the statement folder.

Chapter Text

Martin was trying to do follow up research on the statement Jon had assigned him, but Michael was being a pest.

“There's a scalpel in Artifact Storage that is of the Corruption, that could be a good weapon.” The blonde was spinning in Jon’s office chair that he had dragged out into the bullpen so he could bum around where Martin was working.

“We don’t need weapons, we need more information.” Martin massaged the skin over his eyes with two fingers while hunching over the police reports he was reading.

“You might think that, but when you’re getting chased by faceless ‘people’-” Michael did air quotes when he said the word ‘people’. “-You'll want a weapon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I mean, they already broke in and took the calliope.” Michael launched a rubber band into the corner.

“S-sorry? What ?” He sat bolt upright while looking at the blonde.

“Oh, yes. I thought the rest of you had noticed by now. During all of the chaos following Sasha’s return and the Archivist’s disappearance they took the calliope. Pretty sure that Andy guy who worked in Artifact Storage is dead.”

“ WHAT?? ”

Just when he was starting to feel like they were making some progress something always had to come to light and complicate it.

Jon was still staying at Georgie’s along with Melanie, for some reason. He and Tim were doing follow up and looking for relevant statements and passing the information along to Jon and Sasha was supposed to return to work today. There had been no news about Detective Tonner for better or worse and Jon had gotten another statement. In fact he had gotten several statements and even a tape all at once which wasn’t concerning at all. The Archivist had been adamant about reading them himself and making sure no one else was recording them. There had been a lot of back and forth about recording them at all, but in the end Michael had said something about not wanting Jon to starve and that had been that. 

Martin had hoped to get some time alone with Jon to talk about everything that had happened so far, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance when they had had their big meeting since Jon had seemed pretty out of it afterwards and he hadn’t seen him since.

Even if he was able to get him alone, Martin didn’t know what he would say. Obviously they’d have to have a talk about Jon’s reckless behavior and an emotional check in to see how he was holding up, but he didn’t know if he’d tell him how he felt.

Martin loved Jon. He did. He really and truly did.

It never seemed like the right time to bring it up because there was just always something happening. 

Now, on top of everything, Michael was casually telling him that Andy was probably dead and that the Circus had that creepy calliope.

Great .

Before he could properly freak out over this new information the stairs creaked loudly, announcing the arrival of Sasha and Tim.

Tim pushed open the door with one hand while leading Sasha with the other. “Surprise! It still sucks down here!”

“Tim,” Sasha’s voice was fond, if a little exasperated. “If it weren’t haunted it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“I’ll give you that.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips before leading her to her desk which he had pushed up against his own.

Martin had known they were officially a couple, he’d just never seen them kiss before and it had made him feel something . Jealousy, most likely. 

“Welcome back Sasha.” He waved at her and she laughed a little.

“I’d say it’s good to be back but I know better.”

Just as she was settling at her desk and Tim was moving things around for her since she was still fairly weak, the stairs groaned again meaning someone else was coming down to the archives. 

Before anyone could get up to check or really ask who it might be, Elias made his grand entrance and they all froze.

“Good morning everyone.” He had that stiff, artificial smile on his face even as his cold eyes probed them all in turn. “My, everyone sure does look grim, and this is supposed to be a happy day! Ms. James has returned! I came down to welcome her back.” As he spoke Elias held out a hand to put Sasha on display.

Tim looked like he was about to jump over his desk and start swinging but Sasha had a hand on his arm.

“Thank you Elias.” She said, her tone painfully neutral. “But I’d like to be able to get on with my work now.”

Elias smiled, that same practiced bend of his lips that they had all seen many times over the years. “Of course. But do remember that if you need anything I’ll be in my office.”

“How could any of us forget?” Tim’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

Elias’ perfectly professional smile never faltered for a second as he turned to leave, but his grey eyes were cold.

Once he was gone they all let out a collective sigh.

“I used to just think he was kinda weird, now everything about him is so creepy.” Sasha shuddered and Tim wrapped an arm around her.

“I have half a mind to knock his teeth out.” He said as he gently rubbed his girlfriend’s knuckles with his thumb.

“That would be very unwise.” Michael said as he wound up Jon’s chair for another spin.

Tim muttered something under his breath that Martin couldn’t hear but he could guess that it wasn’t nice.

By mid afternoon they had dug up a good chunk of information that they could pass on to Jon, the only issue that remained was whether or not he could be trusted with it. Considering his track record they were all a little hesitant to hand him leads on some very dangerous people without some sort of plan.

“I don’t think I can read any more of this.” Tim threw down the file he was working on and got up to pace.

“Yeah, I’m done for now.” Martin stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. “I think the rest of the day should be spent prepping what we have for review.” 

“Agreed, we need to run everything past Georgie before letting Jon at it.” Sasha said as she closed out a few of her thousands of tabs on her computer. 

“You two figure it out, I’m gonna grab a coffee.” Tim bent down to kiss Sasha on the cheek. “Want one?”

She giggled and the sound of it caused a stabbing pain behind Martin’s eyes, but if it affected Tim he didn’t let it show.

“It’s the middle of the day and I’ve already had one.”

“Is that a no?”

“How about a smoothie? There's a nice smoothie bar about ten minutes from here.”

He kissed her nose before standing back up. “Done and done! Be back in about twenty.” With a wink he was up the stairs and gone.

Sasha put a hand over her mouth to hide the grin on her face and tried to sift papers around with her other one.

“Things seem to be going well between you two.”

She looked up when Martin spoke, multicolored eyes glimmering with happiness. “Yeah. Something about being trapped in the insanity labyrinth for months makes you really appreciative of all the little things.”

She turned her gaze down to the folders on the desk in front of her again but he could see the way her brows were slightly knit. “When I was trapped there I had a lot of time to think, when I could think that was. And it just… It just made everything else seem so stupid. All of the things I used to worry about. Like dating Tim. Who cares if a workplace relationship isn’t professional? The Institute is patroned by an evil eye god! Compared to that, kissing the guy I like and who likes me back while at work is such a non issue.”

She sat up a little straighter and took a deep breath. “I used to worry about all the ways dating him could go wrong. One of us leaves this place and we can’t make it work around our schedules, it makes working together awkward, we realize we don’t get along as well as we thought, his flirty nature makes a mess of things, I make a mess of things…. And now what the hell, why not just go for it!” She threw up a hand as she said the last part. “You could get eaten by worms or trapped in magic halls at any moment so why not just jump in.”

“Oh.” Martin felt his stomach twist in knots because that wasn’t how he saw it at all. He had been looking at the whole situation and then at his own feelings for Jon with the mindset of “I don’t want to add more fuel to this dumpster fire if this goes wrong” which was why he had yet to say anything. That and the fact that there never seemed to be a good time for it.

“Well,” He hid behind this computer monitor to hide the tears that had begun to brim in his eyes. “I’m happy for you two. I’m glad you have each other.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at the manilla folder on her desk.

A few minutes passed in silence before she spoke again. “Sooooo, uh. Jon?”

Martin groaned and dropped his head to his desk. “Did Tim tell you?”

“Yes, but I could tell long before that.” she gave him a pitying smile.

“Is it that obvious?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

“Yeah. I think everyone knows but Jon at this point.”

“Well surely not-”

“Melanie for sure knows.”

“ WHAT?? ” He slammed his hands down. “HOW?”

Before she could respond Michael kicked off of the wall to roll between their desks on Jon’s chair. “It’s super obvious, my dear friend. It’s because of all the staring and sighing you do.”

“And fussing and blushing.” Sasha added.

“And touching and hovering.” Michael concluded as he spun in the chair.

Martin buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god. What if Melanie tells Jon? He’s gonna hate me.”

“Jon has gotten over hating you.” Sasha said with a little shrug. “The way you two interacted at the meeting was vastly different from what I was seeing before I was trapped in The Distortion.”

Martin could only make a grumbling noise of despair and dropped his head to his desk again.
Sasha cleared her throat before speaking again. “I did want to ask….” She sounded a little hesitant so Martin lifted his head enough to look at her. “With Jon being a cat… That doesn’t weird you out right? Or are you like…. Really into it?”

Martin could tell what she was getting at and for a few seconds he could only open and close his mouth like a fish before being able to spit out a response. “I- he- No it doesn’t bother me!” He almost knocked over a cup full of pens that was dangerously close to the edge of his desk when he swung his hands with his response. 

Sasha shrugged apologetically. “Okay, yeah. I just want to be sure. I’ve been friends with Jon for years and I just feel the need to be sure on his behalf. The whole cat thing can be a delicate subject.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s fine… I overreacted to the question a little.” Martin slumped down in his chair a little. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I think it’s cute, for sure. I mean, he’s got adorable cat ears and he purrs and sleeps on the floor wherever it’s warmest and all of that is so endearing. But he’s also Jon. Jon who likes documentaries and sewing and knows a bunch of weird facts and is so stubborn and curious and, and….” he looked at her with his glasses still off and instead of being blurry in the normal way she looked like she was made of stained glass that wouldn’t sit together properly. “I just love him. Everything about him.” He put his glasses back on and the effects of the Distortion vanished so that he was seeing her sit there with one hand over her mouth. Michael was hovering in his periphery as well, creepy ass grin on his face and still spinning slowly.

“What?”

“You just said you love him.” She gasped.

“Oh.” He could feel his face heat up and he was sure he was as red as a tomato. “Guess saying that out loud is a big deal.”

“Martin.” She said his name with so much sympathy. “We’ll figure this out and then-” as she was saying this the stairs creaked and they both looked expecting to see Tim, but instead Rosie pushed her way into the archives carrying a smoothie. She brought it over to Sasha’s desk. “Tim asked me to bring this to you.”

She had a confused expression as she looked at the smoothie and then at Rosie. “Where is Tim?”

“He had to stop and talk to Elias about something.”

As soon as Rosie said that Martin was on his feet and charging up the stairs, a frightened urgency pushing him forward. He power walked through the halls of the Institute until he was outside of Elias’ door. He had a hand on the doorknob, ready to barge in when he paused; he could hear them talking through the door.

“Oh, you want to talk to me?” That was Elias, his voice condescending and dripping with smugness. 

He heard Tim’s voice next. “Yeah jackass, I know what you did and-”

“And what? What are you going to do? Because whatever I’ve done, I know what you didn’t do.”

“What?” 

Even through the door Martin could hear a chair being pushed back, the sound of Elias standing no doubt.

“Oh dear Timothy. Dear, cowardly Timothy. This is a brave thing you’re doing, but you can’t fool me.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t-”

“No you don’t. That’s the thing about you. You don’t pursue answers like Jon, you don’t persevere like Martin and you don’t anchor like Sasha, so what do you do?”

“Wha-what?” Tim’s voice sounded small, afraid. 

“You run away, or you would if you could. You’ve admitted to that yourself. Or you stand by and do nothing.”

“ Don’t. ” The word was hissed. A desperate, angry warning, and a plea.

“Yes, I know all about Danny . How you just let him go. How you just watched .” Something in Elias' voice had changed, it was still his but there was something so vile about it, about the way he said every word.

“D-don’t.” Tim’s voice cracked like he was crying.

“He must have been so scared, and yet, where was his big brother when he needed him?”

“I-I-” When Martin finally heard a strangled sob through the door, whatever shocked horror that had held him in place broke and he wretched the door open.

Elias was standing in front of Tim who was bent over sobbing, his face buried in his hands to smother the sound of his weeping. Martin moved between the two of them quickly, putting a hand on Elias’ chest and pushing him back and then quickly pulling Tim to himself.

Elias had staggered back against his desk and as he righted himself he hissed at the two of them. “Get out of my office, and maybe think twice about being so bold next time.” 

That was all he got to say before Martin all but dragged Tim into the hallway and past a confused Rosie.

“Come on, here, sit.” Martin directed his friend to one of the many little rooms in the Institute that theoretically served some purpose but were basically abandoned. 

Tim shook with a few more sobs before he started to calm down, gasping for air and sniffing loudly.

After a minute Tim could breath steadily again and after several deep breaths he looked at his feet, shoulders squared and hands on his knees. “He’s right. I just watched.”

“He’s an ass and a murder and I don’t know what that was about but don’t believe a word he said.”

“He didn’t just say it.” Tim’s voice wobbled and he had to pause to regain his composure. “I felt it all over again. The disgust, the rage, the grief, the fear .”

Martin stayed quiet while his friend spoke. 

“I’m a pathetic man who couldn’t save his brother and I couldn’t help the woman I love.” 

There was some little part of Martin that felt some satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one admitting to being in love that day.

“Tim….. What could you have done for Sasha? Jon was-”

“Of course Jon was!” Tim slammed a fist against his own knee as tears slid out of his closed eyes. “Jon figured out what happened to her! Jon got her out of there! What did I do? Wasted my time being angry and scared! And I’m still angry and scared!” He furiously wiped tears from his cheeks and tried to breath through his nose. “I couldn’t even do this for them. I couldn't even put Elias in his place. Rough him up or threaten him….”

“Tim…”

“ Don’t . Don’t use that tone with me.” He leaned back and tried to calm down again but Martin could see him shaking.

The door to the little room they were sitting in creaked open and Sasha’s face appeared. She and Tim locked eyes for a second before he looked at the floor and a few fresh tears fell on his knees.

“What happened?” She came into the room and sat hip to hip with her boyfriend taking one of his hands in hers.

“Elias did something to him.” Martin said as he stood to give the two of them space.

“Oh, Tim.” She cupped his face with her other hand just as a new wave of sobs overcame him.

At that point Martin excused himself since it very much felt like he was intruding.

He saw Michael lingering in the hall since he had probably helped Sasha up the stairs.

He came out and leaned against the wall next to the blonde, took a deep breath, let it out and rubbed his eyes.

“Where The Distortion relies on tricking the mind and The Stranger the uncanny, The Eye is all about terrible truths.” Michael mused as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Thanks, for the information.” Martin’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Little late though.”

Michael just shrugged, not at all perturbed by his tetchiness.

They stood in silence for a while while Michael picked at his nails and Martin stared at the wall before they heard a sniffle and Sasha and Tim appeared. Tim’s eyes were red and puffy and he was still stuffy but he was standing and Sasha was holding his hand.

“We’re going home.” Was all she said.

They left without another word.

“Welp.” Michael stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to finish my work for the night as well.”

“What work are you talking about? What do you even do?” Martin asked as the blonde walked briskly towards the archives.

“You’ll see!”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

~

Jon had just finished recording one of the statements he had been sent when Melanie scurried into the living room, grabbed something from the couch and scurried out of sight again.

He squinted at where he had last seen her since she hadn’t so much as made a face at him which wasn’t like her. Usually she took each and every opportunity to stick out her tongue at him or call him a mean name when they crossed paths but not this time.

Suspicious. 

He tried to go back to flipping through his new statements and pondering the meaning behind them when Melanie reappeared.

She stiffly stepped into sight and cleared her throat. He looked up at her and blinked.

“Whoa.”

She glared at him. “There’s no need to sound so shocked.” 

She was dressed up, dress, heels, make-up, the works. She had even curled her hair. It was a very different look from her usual denim jacket and graphic tee.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked as he set the statements aside. 

“Well, I got a new job.” She said it without any real enthusiasm. 

“Congratulations! Unless…” He tilted his head at her. “...That’s not good news?”

“No, it is, it’s just…” She folded her arms over her chest and scowled at the wall. “Some cheesy blog needs a “reporter” for its new series on haunted graves and… You’re looking at her. It’s…. Well it’s kinda embarrassing but they hand waved my recent bad press and the pay per shoot is really good.”

“It sounds like nothing but a win. I mean, who cares about embarrassing? Look where my job got me.”

“Fair point.”

Jon gave her something of a quizzical look. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re all dressed up.”

Before she could give an answer, Georgie came into the living room equally decked out.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She said as she secured an erring.

He looked back and forth between them waiting for one of them to elaborate. 

“Hey, Jon.” Georgie said even as Melanie was starting to turn red in the face as she looked at her. “Mel and I are going out to celebrate her getting a new job. Would have invited you but you’re wanted for murder and have a bunch of dietary restrictions ....”

He waved a hand to assure her it was fine. 

“....anyway, there’s lunch meat in the fridge.”

“I’ll be fine Georgie, you two have fun.”

As the ladies were headed out the door Georgie turned to him one last time. “ Don’t eat cat food for dinner.”

“It was one time!” He cried.

“Since you’ve been staying here, I know you used to do it in Uni!”

Before he could come up with a retort she shut the door and he was alone, grumbling to himself that it was fine if he ate cat food, he was a cat .

He hadn’t been alone long before there was a knock and Michael’s unmistakable voice followed. “Delivery!”

He checked the windows briefly before unlocking the door for the NotThem and the blonde dumped a folder into his arms.

“Here’s the follow up info for the cases you gave us! Including the contact information for a member of the Cult of the Lightless Flame.”

With that and a wink, Michael turned around and left.

Jon locked himself in the house and took the folder to his blanket nest in the corner to look through it. It was a little weird that he had gotten all of this information without any filters or warnings about not going off on his own, but he wasn’t complaining.

Chapter Text

Martin shuffled some more papers around on his desk in the vain hope that his missing notes would miraculously appear. He had checked four times already, but hey, maybe the fifth time was the charm.
They were the last things he needed to send their follow up work to Jon, who was probably getting very impatient at this point.

Tim and Sasha were taking the day off following yesterday’s incident so it was up to him to put everything in order and then deliver it to Georgie’s.
He should ask Michael, he had been lingering around the archives last night and he wouldn’t put it past the Stranger to mess with stuff.

As he was muttering and grumbling to himself there was a loud creak from the stairs just before the doors to the archives opened.

God damn it.

Of all the people it had to be Basira.

She looked around and quickly spotted him. “Martin, right?”

“Yes.” He frowned at her. “The archives aren’t open to the public and the Archivist isn’t in so if you want to make a st-”

“No, no. I’m looking for Daisy.”

Martin tried to keep from grimacing at the woman’s name. “I don’t know where she is! Why would I? No one ever tells me anything!” He threw his hands up and Basira raised an eyebrow judgmentally.

“Okay, geeze. I’m just asking. It’s just… Well, they said at the station that this was the last place she checked in.”

He did a little half shake of his head while trying to register what she just said. “That was weeks ago, when she was interviewing people.”

Basira shrugged a bit. “Yeah, I haven’t heard anything so I went to check in with her at the station, and they said she hadn’t been in since February.”

“And no-one’s looked into that?” Everything about this conversation was setting off alarm bells.

“I mean, they don’t keep a close eye on…” Basira shook her head a little and changed what she was about to say. “She goes off the grid sometimes when working a case. Never this long, though. I’m worried it has something to do with….” She just sort of
gestured to the archives around them.

Martin knew Basira was aware of some things. She was very aware of the supernatural and she had been helping Jon, maybe dating him, but he wasn’t so sure about that part, but he still didn’t know just how much she was aware of.
“Look, he didn’t kill anyone. I think he was framed. I mean there’s definitely something going on.” He hoped he sounded unsure enough.

“Honestly? I think so too. I just can’t see Jon killing anyone, otherwise he’s way sneakier than he seems. I actually like the guy.” She folded her arms over her chest as she spoke.

“You mean like you… Liked…..?”

“No!” Basira shook her head a little too fast. “It’s not like- no. He’s good company, when he isn’t being jumpy as hell. He’s funny.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Basira shrugged. “If it weren’t for all of the messed up stuff going on I figured we could be friends, but….” her voice trailed off as she shifted her gaze to one of the tape records on Tim’s desk.

“Anyway,” she inhaled through her nose and looked him in the eye again. “Thanks, but I’m guessing you can’t help me find Daisy then.”

Martin waved a hand dismissively at her. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just using her ‘operation discretion’ to bully someone else.”

Basira’s whole body stiffened and there was a fearful look in her eyes. “What did you say?”

“I was just saying she-”

“No, no. Did she use the phrase ‘operational discretion’?” Basira took an urgent step closer to him.

“Yeah. She said she had ‘full operational discretion’. Is everything alright?” Martin knew everything was not alright. Based on what little he knew about Daisy and the way Basira was reacting everything was in fact, really bad.

“I need to find him.” She said, looking around the room like she might have missed him when first entering.

“Uh, I’m sure it’ll-”

“No.” She cut him off, her voice firm but stressed. “I need to find him now. Martin if you know something and you’re not telling me you need to. His life could be in danger and I need to find him.”

His heart rate picked up as dread settled in his gut. He knew Daisy wasn’t quite human, they had discussed it at the meeting, but she was police so surely she would just arrest him if she found him and not…

“Martin.” Basira sounded so intense, and if she was right she might be their best bet for getting Daisy taken care of.

“Do you really want to help him?”

“Whether he killed that man or not doesn’t matter to Daisy. She’s going to hunt him like he’s an animal and I don’t want that to happen.”

Like an animal.

“Fine. I know where he is.”

~

Jon had woken up that day with cobwebs on his face and a lighter in his hand. It had been an upsetting experience to say the least, but once he had the damn thing again he figured he might as well hold on to it until Georgie could get a proper safe or something.
He had packed his messenger bag, grabbed the first coat he could find (which ended up being the cat hoodie Melanie had given him as a joke) and was off. He didn’t have a phone (probably lost it being chased through the tunnels), but that was fine, he was planning on making his way back to Georgie’s when all was said and done anyhow and he was sure he’d be back before anyone could miss him. He was firmly refusing to consider the possibility that he might not come back at all.
At least he had some money since Michael and Martin had saved a lot of his things.

The bus ride to the edge of London went smoothly enough and the following thirty minute walk to where the meeting was was a nice way to clear his head.
The late March air was cold but luckily the hoodie was plenty warm and he had on leggings under his skirt.

When the meeting place came into view Jude was already there. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, sipping something with a lot of steam coming off of it and playing with a stress ball.
As he approached she finally seemed to notice him and set the stress ball down to stand and extend a hand to shake. “Well well well, if it isn’t the new Archivist.”
She had a cruel smile and there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes that told Jon everything he needed to know. He glanced down at her extended hand while fighting back a grimace.

Jon had been navigating nonsense social standards and rules for over two decades and to this day a lot of them were beyond him. There were some things he thought were stupid but could work around (like not sleeping on the back of the couch or yowling at three AM when he got a burst of energy) and there were some that were solely cultural and annoying. Shaking hands was one of the non practical ones. It was a great way to spread germs, inconvenience someone and in certain cases accidentally hurt someone, like if you had claws or were made of molten wax. He had thought this might happen and as such he had come up with a plan.

As Jude stood there with her hand extended he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out the oven mitt he had brought along.
She took one look at it and made a face he couldn’t quite decipher. It was maybe amusement mixed with insult and a dash of disbelief.

He was careful to look her in the face more than he looked at her hand as he extended his now semi protected hand to shake hers. They made contact and for a brief moment everything was fine, the mitt was working and he could feel her fingers curl around him. Then the mitt caught on fire.

Jon yelped and shook his hand free as quickly as he could even as Jude held onto it. He nursed his singed hand as Jude let the ashes of the mitt drift away and laughed at him.

“I have to say, Archivist,” She wheezed out between laughs, “That was a first, and oh so entertaining.” She sat down at the outdoor table where her things were and even though he was still inspecting his hand he sat as well. He had some mild burns on it but nothing too bad, it probably wouldn’t even scar.

He had enough burn scars already.

Jude laughed again and he finally turned his attention back to her.

“Something else that’s funny, Ms. Perry?”

“Uh, yeah.” She snorted and half heartedly waved a hand at him and his cat hoodie.

“Look, it’s cold and the first thing I grabbed this morning.”

She mockingly made cat paws with her hands and batted her eyes at him. “Oh I’m sure you sad little mew mew.” He didn’t know what those words meant but he didn’t like the way she said them.

“Right…. Anyway, thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

She laughed in amusement again, a sound that was quickly becoming grating. “Of course, it’s always fun to watch a moth fly to its demise in a flame.”

“Sure… Um, I just have a few questions. Did you burn down a section of Gwydir Forest last year?”

Jude slung one arm over the back of her chair and picked up her stress ball which he suddenly realized was actually wax that she was melting and forming under her fingers.
“Not alone, but yes. You should have seen how devastated they were, such a loss.”

“I’m sure the Forestry Commission was mortified.” He sighed. “Why?”

“Stop that!” She snapped, leaning forward again with a sneer. “And it was because Nikola Orsinov asked us to. She was done with the place, and we’re always happy to help, when that help is destroying something someone loves.”

“But-”

“No more questions, Archivist!” Once again she reacted harshly to him but this time he could taste the static starting to form on his tongue.

Oh.

That must be what she was mad about.
Whatever happened when he started asking questions and the air started to buzz, she could feel it too and she wasn't happy about it.
“Well I came here to ask questions!” He said with exasperation. “And you can snap at me as much as you want, I'm still going to ask.” He had a whole tirade he could do but a squirrel ran by and couldn’t help but chitter at it a little. Jude squinted at him. “Why is the Archivist begging for table scraps from me?”

“Well, there’s some things you might be able to tell me.” He tore his eyes off of the squirrel to look back at her. “Did you burn down Gertrude Robinson’s flat twenty five years ago?”

“Ha! I wish. No.” She leaned back again. “Don’t know who all was in on that except I know Arthur was there.”

“Arthur Nolan?”

Jude tilted her head to the side a little when he confirmed the name. “Yeah. Him. Why?”

“I just want to know.”

“Of course you do.” She stayed silent and regarded him for a moment before leaning back over the table.

“How about I give you a little advice.”

He flashed his fangs at her. “Now we’re cooking with fire. Statement of Jude Perry, regarding… some advice. Recorded direct from subject, April 6th, 2017. Statement begins.”

He walked away from his meeting with Jude Perry with a hand that was only a little burned and plenty of new insight, as well as the contact information for an avatar of the Vast. All in all the meeting had been a huge success.

~

Marin knocked on Georgie’s door, very much aware that he might be making a terrible mistake, but not bringing Basira to Jon could be an even bigger one.
He knocked and several minutes passed so he knocked again. He was just about to pound on the door a third time when it opened to reveal a very grumpy Melanie. “What?!?”
Her eyes darted to Basira and back to Martin. “Who the fuck is this?”

“This is-” Before Martin could introduce her, Basira cut him off while shouldering her way forward. “Basira Hussain, I need to talk to Jon, his life is in danger.”

“I- Wha-?” Melanie didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Basira was past her and in the house. “Wait just a minute-”

“What’s going on?” Georgie appeared from the hall and both her eyebrows shot up when she saw her unexpected guests. “Who are you?”

“Basira. Where’s Jon?”

“I don’t-” She glanced at Martin looking for some sort of explanation.

“Jon’s in danger, Basira is here to help.”

She looked back at the ex-cop. “Jon’s not here. He went out.”

“What do you mean he went out?” Martin asked.

“I think he was following up on one of the leads you and the others sent him. He left pretty early this morning.”

“We haven’t given him our follow up info specifically so he wouldn’t wander off! Who-”
Michael. It had to have been him.

Martin ran a hand through his hair while Basira looked at him intently. “Oh god, okay, um… Do you know where?”

“No.” Georgie said, the worry evident in her voice. “He was reviewing stuff when we got home last night and left pretty early. We talked about how we were handling things so I didn’t think it would be anything dangerous.”

“I think Michael gave him everything without telling anyone. Oh god.” Martin rubbed his eyes as he tried to remember what all was in those notes, fear weaving its way through him. “Jude Perry, he might have gone to look into Jude Perry. I don’t know why he would, except that he likes running off into danger and leaving me behind to panic!” Martin swung both arms out in frustration as he spoke and Basira raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, panicking won’t help.” Georgie held up her hands placatingly. “Why exactly is Jon in danger?”

“Daisy.” Basira turned her attention to the podcaster. “Daisy kills monsters. As far as she’s concerned Jon counts as a monster because he’s not human.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Martin asked as he finished a few deep breaths.