Chapter Text
Jon sat and listened as Georgie retold her accounts from before he had met her. Told him of Alex Brooke and the last words of a dead woman. Told him how she believed that the only reason she survived was due to the fact she covered her ears as the dead woman whispered to her, “The moment that you die will feel exactly the same as this one.” She told Jon how she had felt every emotion at once, anger, despair, joy, hope, fear. Especially fear. And the next thing she knew she was waking up in her bed, not able to feel anything. It took Georgie about a year before she was able to fully—well, not be herself again. But something resembling her old self.
They spent hours talking about it—Jon and Georgie, The Tape just whirled silently, allowing the two to talk it out. Eventually Tape Jon spoke up, telling Georgie she should rest. Georgie scoffed and would have shoved Tape Jon if it wasn't for the fact he was just a voice on a cassette. She shared the ghosts of her pasts and she admits how it felt good to get it off her chest. All the same, Tape Jon apologized for bringing it all up.
Jon felt conflicted, on one hand he was glad he was able to be there for Georgie. However, on the other hand he felt lost, his whole world having been turned on its head at the appearance of the mass of compact black plastic and magnetic tape from a few days prior.
He could no longer pretend that none of this was real.
Eventually, Jon left Georgie’s flat, deciding to leave the tape player but keep the tape. He promised to keep Georgie posted and to get some rest, yet Jon only intended to do one of those things. He had gone back to his own flat after he left Georgie’s but when he took one more look at The Tape in his hand, he decided he would forgo sleep in exchange for getting a head start on The Archives.
[you need to rest] Jon felt the thought push itself into his head.
“I'll rest later,” Jon mumbled and put on a clean work suit before leaving his flat again.
By the time he reached the institute, it was almost six in the morning. Jon used his ID badge to enter the building. The doors were locked at this hour and wouldn't be open to the public for another five. He pulled out his phone torch to find his way to the stairs and headed down to The Archives. Jon unlocked the door and entered the bullpen.
First he stopped into his office to grab the tape recorder that he had left behind the day prior, inserting the tape as soon as he grabbed it. It whirled to life and after a few seconds Tape Jon spoke up, “you know, you could take one day to yourself, right?”
“You were the one that made this all sound so urgent,” Jon snarked back.
The tape recorder crackled out a sigh, “at least get yourself something to keep you awake.”
Jon took the cassette player with him and rummaged through the cabinets in the break room until he found the caffeinated tea. He put a mug of water in the microwave to heat it up before placing the tea bag in. Jon paused and thought about it before he pulled out the creamer and added a splash, mixing it before taking a sip. He hissed as it burned his tongue and he made a face at how bitter it was despite the cream.
“I envy you,” Tape Jon admits.
Jon glared at the recorder, “how come?”
“You are able to drink tea,” Tape Jon says with a bitter laugh.
Jon looked down at the cup in his hands before hesitantly saying, “If it makes you feel better, it's not all that good.”
Tape Jon laughs, the sound full of static. “It always is when we make it.” Jon wanted to ask what the tape meant but Tape Jon spoke up, not letting him. “Now that you have caffeine, go to document storage.”
Jon sighed and grabbed the recorder again, carrying it with it propped under his arm holding his tea. Using the other to open the door and exit back into the bullpen. He crossed the room and entered Document storage. The room was just as disorganized as it was when he left it. With a dejected sigh he spoke up again, “where to start?”
“The box on the shelf on the far left, labeled 1980’s,” the tape said, “it's the one with the most true statements.”
Jon had to suppress a grimace, “true statements,” he parroted as he walked forward.
“I'm not someone you have to fool, I know just as well as you do that you believe it,” Tape Jon says as Jon places the recorder on top of the filing cabinet so he could grab the box.
Jon hesitated as he pulled the box from the shelf, “right.” Without another word he sits down on the ground and pulls the lid off the file container and reaches for the first file. He opened it and realized how much time all this organizing was going to take. “This is going to take ages,” he mutters as he skims the words on the page.
“It's a false statement,” The Tape says without a hint of hesitation.
“What? How do you know?” Jon exclaimed looking up at the recorder, the file still sitting open in his hands.
“Statement of Angie Hook regarding the disappearance of her pet tarantula,” Tape Jon says, “put it down and move on.”
Jon shuttered at the word tarantula and placed it aside before pulling out another. “How are you able to tell what statement that was?” Jon found himself asking.
“I can see through your eyes and I Know a real statement when I see it.”
Jon stopped, the second statement he held positioned mid-air as he glared up at the device. “What does that mean, see through my eyes?”
The tape whirled silently for a moment before it seemed to find its words. “We… I… it's complicated.” The tape continued silently.
Jon made a face, “what does that even mean?”
the tape laughed bitterly, before it clicked like clearing its throat. “How to put this… er, I’ve seen too much. And the things I've seen, saw me back.”
“That doesn't answer my question,” Jon says, sounding annoyed. “What do you mean—see through my eyes?” Jon asked, reiterating the question.
“I am not exactly human anymore….”
Jon scoffed as he pushed his frames further up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, as you said,” A new look crossed Jon’s features. “You're a ghost, does that mean you are possessing my eyes?” He asked, sounding mortified.
The Tape let out a startled laugh, “gods, I forgot how bizarre the conclusions I draw are—no. This place, this job, made me into something other than human…” Tape Jon paused. “I mean, I chose this.”
Jon frowned. “Chose, what, exactly?”
“Only because I was too afraid to die the first time.”
Jon’s breathing hitched. “the first time!?”
“Yes, I, er, I went to stop a ritual of the stranger—The Unknowing. Only one of us who went in came out unchanged, even those who stayed behind at the institute went through some changes.”
Jon opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't find the right words to express what he was feeling. His mouth slowly shut and his eyes became contemplative. “You make it sound like there are more people besides Sasha, Tim, Martin and I.”
”Yes, but not if I can do anything about it,” Tape Jon emphasized.
Jon’s brows furrowed, “and why is that? Would more people not be better for The Archives in general?”
The tape let out another crackling sigh. “The more people bound to this place the more people are in danger.”
“Why? What danger?” Jon snapped, he stood and glared at the cassette player again. “You haven't told me anything useful as to why I should trust you! I get you are me, I get that you have died! But if you're trying to prevent this I got to have at least some sort of information to go off of.”
Tape Jon was quiet for a moment—the only sound filling document storage was the static grain from the player.
Another cracking sigh broke through the tiny speakers. “I—this is hard for me too,” Tape Jon finally is able to admit. “You may think you are alone in this, but you aren't. You don't truly know what it is to be alone until the one who held your hand at the end of everything—who promised to go everywhere you go—the one who held you as you lied dying—is not here. I—I lost my anchor.” The voice on the tape shuttered with unshed tears. Another shaky breath cut through the silence.
The man listening to the tape felt his blood run cold at the admission. Jon didn't know what to say to that, should he offer his condolences? To himself? For a partner he hasn't even met?
Tape Jon clicked again before saying, “The Corruption is first.”
“What?” Jon asked, all eloquence leaving him.
“The first danger is The Corruption, Jane Prentiss, specifically—her statement should be in here somewhere and when we find it we can go over what is next. We will also need to find the statements of Timothy Hodge and Carlos Vittery. Hodge’s is a direct encounter. Where Vittery's is a link to where we might find Jane. That's all I can give you right now, we need to take this one step at a time.”
Jon sighed, that was a lot to take in but… it was at least something. “Good,” Jon says after he clears his throat, “was that so hard?” He crouched back to the floor and picked up the statement he had put down. Jon opened it and read the first few lines.
“That is a statement of The Lonely, start a pile and let's move on,” Tape Jon said, voice sounding less strained.
Jon sighed and put it down, separate from the fakes.
-
Sasha was having a pleasant morning. It started with waking up curled in her duvet feeling warm and content. Looking up at the clock, she was able to see she could just sit there and just exist for thirty minutes before she had to actually get up and get ready. After that time was up she sat up and stretched out, her joints popping with a satisfying crunch. After that she got dressed and headed out the door.
The day prior, Tim and her had made plans to meet up to talk about the statements that Jon handed them to do to talk strategy. Sasha wanted to invite Martin but the larger man had left before she could even ask him anything.
Tim and Sasha met up in the coffee shop on the way to work, it was her favorite place to get coffee. Not only was it cheaper than the crap around the institute, it also tasted better to her. But then again it could just be because it was cheaper.
She entered, ordered two cups of coffee, one for Tim and the other for herself. Sasha sat herself by the large window at a table she could easily spread out on. She thought about texting Martin to see if he wanted anything but decided she would just ask his preferences at work and surprise him later. Martin didn't seem the type to accept gifts easily. She knew for a fact Jon was the same way for a wholly other reason entirely.
Getting back to the task at hand she pulled out the file she decided she was going to work on that day as well as her laptop and started to google the names and places while making notes on things she found.
The statement was given by Ashleigh Gale about her experience out in rural UK while she was on vacation. She was wandering around the forest at night, only a flashlight in hand and the only light she had. It had been during a new moon so it looked extra dark and spooky when she was out. She was looking for her boyfriend, Jacob Stine, who had decided to go out hiking while she took a nap. He hadn't returned and she was getting worried. While out in the forest she found several mushroom circles she nearly stepped in. It wasn't until she heard rustling and deep canine-like growls in the dark did she really decide to head back, terrified of some sort of monster. She returned to the cabin they were renting and found her boyfriend in the kitchen cooking dinner as if he had been there the whole time.
Not much to go on but she had her ways on finding things. Sasha was about to look up if there were any old legends in Yorkshire when the chiming of the front door caught her attention. In stumbled a tired looking Tim, his eyes barely open as he gripped the strap of his messenger bag. Sasha smiled and waved her hand in the air, “oy, Tim, over here,” she exclaimed much to the shagrin of many of the other patrons of the shop who looked like they were still waking up as well.
Tim glared at her halfheartedly and put his bag on the table before slouching into the chair across from her. “How are you already so put together this early?”
Sasha let out a snort of laughter, “because I actually go to sleep at a reasonable time on work days.” Sasha picked up the second coffee and held it out for Tim to take.
Tim rolled his eyes and reached out to take the offered to go cup, “why would I do that when I could be watching my shows?” Tim asked sarcastically as he took a sip of the drink, sighing as the warm liquid filled his mouth. “Mmm, sugary coffee, you know me so well.”
Sasha rolled her eyes, “what statement did you get,” she asked, closing her laptop and putting her notebook on top of it to a new page.
Tim sighed and reached into his bag to pull out the manila folder. “Don't know, something about a guy saying a ghost performed the heimlich on him,” he says with a shrug. “I'm starting to think Jon is giving me the shitty statements to get back at me for something, I just don't know what.”
Sasha laughs, “you know Jon is not that petty. Sure, he can be an ass, but really he's not out right malicious.”
”Tell that to Martin,” Tim starts, throwing the folder down on the table and crossing his arms defiantly. “Jon called me into his office yesterday after the whole tea incident and told me to basically find Martin to make sure he was doing his job. I found the poor sod in the toilets washing his face looking like he was trying not to cry.”
Sasha sighed, “yeah, I was worried about him too,” she adds, taking another sip of her coffee. “I don't fully know what Jon’s deal is with him but I think it stems mainly from the dog incident.”
“Oh, come on, that was weeks ago,” Tim exclaimed. “I mean, who can say no to a dog that looks hungry.” Tims outburst caused more people in the coffee shop to look at them.
“I have no opinion either way, just glad that we caught it before it could piss on anything in the office.” Sasha says as she propped her head up on the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the table.
“Fair,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. “What about you and your statement, need any of my expertise on information gathering?”
Sasha sighed herself, “no, really I think this is easily disprovable, just need to call the woman for a follow up. Sounds more like she just ran into a wild dog in the dark.”
Tim smirked at Sasha, “a wild dog, or a werewolf?” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Sasha scoffed, “oh shut it, at least my statement sounds actually scary. The one you got sounds more like the guy was a little too sloshed and forgot how to swallow.”
“That's what she said,” Tim laughed. Sasha tried to keep a straight face but inevitably broke out into her own fit of giggles.
The rest of their hour before work revolved around discussing what leads they could follow up on. Sasha agreed to find the camera footage of the bar the man said he was at and Tim promised to call Ashleigh Gale for Sasha.
Finally they finished their coffee and packed up their bags before heading out to make their way to work.
Sasha’s morning had been quite pleasant, that is until she got into work.
Martin stood, peeking over the corner into Document Storage, looking like he wanted to go in but was too nervous to. Tim and her shared a look before walking further into the office. They put their bags down at their respective desks before walking closer to martin.
“Everything alright, Marto?” Tim was the first to break the silence.
Martin jumped and whirled around to look back at Tim and Sasha. “Oh, hello you two,” Martin managed to get out.
”What are you looking at?” Sasha asked.
Martin looked back at Document Storage then back at the two, “its Jon,” Martin started. Both Sasha and Tim make a face and open the door just a bit more to see the man in the other room. “I got in a little early to work on the files he gave us but when I got in he had been talking to himself and rummaging into file boxes like his life depended on it.”
Sure enough, inside was Jon, sitting in the center of a mess of statements strewn out all around himself, murmuring about something as he read the first few lines from a statement before throwing it over his shoulder. The paper fluttered behind him into the mess he had begun to create behind him. The next page he pulled out he read a few lines, tilted his head in thought before going to place it in one of the many neater piles in front of him. He was about to put it in one, froze then put it on top of another stack to his left.
Tim and Sasha pulled back to look at Martin who wore a nervous look as he worried at the cuff of his jumper sleeve with his hands.
“Ok, think he may have lost it?” Tim asked.
Sasha rolled her eyes, pushing past the two to open the door fully. She stepped into the room and found Jon muttering to himself, “what about this one?” She heard him ask the air. He glared at the paper and sighed. “The Web,” he says with a shutter before placing it into another pile. The thing is she didn't think Jon even moved his mouth, she choked it up to her glasses being smudged.
Sasha removed her glasses, using her shirt to wipe at the smudge. “Umm, Jon?” She asked, returning her glasses to her face. She breaks Jon’s concentration, the man jumps and looks up at her like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Quickly Jon ejected the tape that had been playing in the recorder when she entered and put it in his pocket. She didn't even notice it. “Ah Sasha, what are you doing here?” He asked, sounding confused.
“Why am I at work?” She asked in lue of a response. “Jon, are you feeling alright?”
“Yes, I'm fine, ah, here!” Jon says reaching for a pile he had been making. He taps it a few times onto the floor to straighten the pages before handing it to her. “Ignore the statement I gave you yesterday, organize these by date, oldest being on the top. Put each statement in a file labeled by date, month, then year.”
“Jon, what are all of these?” Sasha asked, skimming the statement on top finding it to be yellowed with age. Where did Jon even find these? She thought.
“Those are statements that all mention things having to do with some sort of hunt,” Jon says. “And don't staple them.” Jon looks past Sasha and spots Tim and Martin. “ah, Martin, Tim, come get a stack.”
Tim looks at Martin and then walks in to stand next to Sasha, Martin following behind the thinner man. Jon picks up another pile and begins to straighten it before he freezes, putting it back down and grabbing a completely different one before handing it to Tim. Tim scrutinized the stack, looking at the one Jon was originally going to give him and back to the one in his hands.
Jon handed a stack to Martin, and moved to stand up. As he did so, Jon stumbled and hissed in pain. Tim reached forward and caught the man before he could fall into the cabinet next to him.
“Woah, mate, you good?” Tim asked. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Four hours, twenty-eight minutes, and fourteen seconds in counting,” Jon murmured before shaking his head, “sorry, since six in the morning.”
“Why?” Sasha asks, looking utterly perplexed.
Jon looked away from her, now that she got a closer look she could see bags under Jon's eyes telling her that he hadn't slept. “Because it's my job to organize The Archives,” Jon says as if it were obvious.
“No,” Sasha says, “why so early? And what's with the hurry?”
“The quicker they are organized the quicker I can prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Martin finally found his voice.
Jon sighed, “it's nothing Martin, just do what I told you.” His voice came out harsh. Yet after a second Jon flinched and seemed to mull something over in his head before standing up straight and brushing off imaginary dirt from his trousers, “Sorry, I… need a moment.” Jon pushes past the three leaving them in confusion.
As soon as Jon rounded the corner the three archival assistants shared a look. “What the hell was that?” Tim asked, glaring back at the door in suspicion.
“I don't know,” Martin murmured, looking down at his own stack of papers and skimming the first few sentences, “Statement of Moira Kelly, regarding the disappearance of her son, Robert?” Martin murmured. He flipped to the next one but didn't read it out loud.
Tim glared at the pile Jon was originally going to hand him but froze when Jon yelled out from the Bullpen, “Tim dont, just work on the stack you have.”
“How the bloody hell—?” Tim asked, glaring at his own stack before sighing. “You know what, too early for this.” Tim made his way past Sasha and Martin.
Sasha looked around as if looking for some reason why Jon could have seen that but couldn't find anything. With her own defeated sigh she walked to her desk and began digging through the statements. Martin doing the same.
After an hour Sasha looked up and groaned, “how the hell did he collect all these statements all with the same theme?” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defeat. Because just like what Jon said, all the statements in front of her all revolved around some sort of hunt. She didn't read a lot of them, just finding the date and placing them in piles by decade. When she found that she got through her stack she began to read some. The oldest one being from 1853, why such an old document was just hanging out, sandwiched between one from 2004 and 1998 she didn't know. When she decided to try and record some of them, her computer seemed to glitch and freeze up when she tried to read them. making her realize that these statements fell under the spooky category that they dubbed statements that didn't want to record.
“Not sure. All mine are things having to do with destruction of, well anything.” Tim grumbled, looking up from the file he was reading from, “this one is depressing as hell!”
Martin stood from his desk, “I'm going to make some tea,” he declares, his voice sounding a bit shaky. “Would either of you like some?” He asked, forcing a weak smile on his face.
“Thank you Martin, I would love some.” Sasha says, happily. Sasha stood up, “I'm gonna go get us some empty document boxes to put our organized files in.
“While you're in there, try looking at the other stacks Jon had,” Tim whispers, trying to make sure Jon didn't hear.
Sasha rolled her eyes and walked back to document storage. After they left for their desks, Jon reentered the document storage—presumably to continue his file sorting. Sasha was about to open the door when she heard talking, curiosity got the better of her and she pressed her ear against the door.
“—tell them eventually,” she heard Jon say.
Then she hears Jon scoff, “no, you said the less people involved the better. I can deal with this myself.”
“Alright, I realized I was an arse, but I didn't realize how stupid i could be… scratch that I did know…” Jon’s voice says, a sigh of defeat joined by a crackling static that didn't feel right.
Sasha had to see what Jon was doing, she turned the handle and opened the door—much to the shock of Jon. The file Jon was holding flew from his hands and the papers scattered across the floor. Jon cursed, pausing the recorder and reached down to pick up the discarded papers. “Sasha what do you want?” Jon asked as he crawled about the floor.
Sasha looked around the room as if looking for the person Jon was talking to and found no one like she thought. “To get some filing boxes,”she admits, crouching down and reaching out to help Jon clean up the mess of papers. She picked up one of the pages and skimmed the words across the page.
’…killing it instantly, and plunging into the egg sack below, causing it to tear open and explode. I was suddenly covered in thousands of small, white crawling things, those tiny, dripping, half-formed and unfinished spiders. They covered…’ Sasha was only able to read a bit of the statement before Jon snatched the paper from her hands and glared up at her.
“Did you finish sorting the stack I gave you?” He asked.
Sasha furrowed her brows, “yes, why are you in such a foul mood?”
Jon ignored her question and reached down and handed her another stack of papers. “These are more on The Hunt. Please organize these as well. Jon turned back to the pile of miscellaneous papers that lay in a disorganized pile and began picking up the papers and putting them in a box labeled “disproved” in black marker on the side.
Sasha wanted to say something but couldn't find the words to voice her concern to her new boss. She let out a sigh and walked over to the shelf that holds the unused boxes. She grabbed three and walked past Jon. She looked over her shoulder to see Jon running his hand through his hair like he does when Elias brought up the HR complaints