Chapter Text
The rain had made a pleasant white noise for Jon, at least while he was in the lobby talking to Rosie, you could hardly hear the cars in the archives.
“It looks like the people Tim had interviewed are coming to fully give their statements, well that’s what it says here.”
That can’t be right, Tim practically (in his theatrics) had been thrown out and had a door slammed in his face. As Jon thanked Rosie and started to the stairs down to the archives he milled on the thought, what prompted them to change their minds? Who names their kid ‘John doe’?
A draft rushes through as he opens the old wooden door, Sasha and Martin were talking between each other, their cases or whatever they had been working on lay abandoned on their desks. Fortunately Tim looked busy enough, maybe due to the fact his interviewees are due to arrive in less than a hour and he had failed to completely get all information about David.
His office was absolutely not in a state meant for guests, but the best he could do for cleaning was put the documents and statements aside in a way where he’d hope no one would care. Even if they did notice who was Jon to care, they’d be here for a hour, leave and he’d have to dig and find for important papers for longer than he should.
Of course his tape recorder was on the desk, as well as a shrinking writing pad, and a (empty and enjoyed) cup of tea. A sigh crept out of Jon as a slight murmur came from the side door to the small waiting room, they were here.
—
“John you’re still sure about this? And fix your shirt the top buttons are switched around-!” Arthur reached out his hand to attempt to fix John’s collar, which was promptly batted away with a huff.
The small room presented itself as what it’s for, a sitting room, with two doors one for the entrance and the other labeled ‘the archivist’ which the green stained glass warped into itself making small ovals like eyes.
A small light flickered on, it illuminated a figure in the other room. And with small foot steps the door opened to reveal a short man with a grimace that seemed permanently etched into his face. He wore brown baggy formal pants with a beige cable knit sweater.
“Are you Arthur Lester and … John Doe?”
John, behind Arthur as to not give away the glare he shot at the archivist.
“Yes, and you are..?”
“Jon, the archivist, and you are here to give a statement? The information you had given was less than sufficient.”
Faintly Arthur frowned, why on earth would he complain? They were here weren’t they. Taking a glance back at John, who was equally unimpressed and maybe even mad at Jon’s distaste.
“Well, we’re here to give information I suppose, what’s a statement anyways? The man who had come to our house said a … spooky story? I hardly doubt an institution like this is merely for fiction stories.”
Jon looked- pained to say the least especially at the mention of ‘spooky stories’. His brows furrowed slightly and he exhaled, opening his door wider as to invite the two of them in.
“A statement is just a- a retelling of something, er- supernatural that happened to you, I suppose if you want I could have the two of you answer at once but it’d be easier if only one of you went at a time- for recording purposes.”
John and Arthur looked at each other, there was no real danger if either of them went, they could spin some tale that poor David’s house was in ruin with some sort of evidence of madness, they may or may not have rehearsed a story in the early morning.
“ I suppose I can go first, I technically was the first one to talk to David.” Talk was a over very long stretch for what had really happened, Arthur’s ribs still were a little sore.
Walking the first thing he noticed was the absolute disarray it was in, while the desk sat tidy, piles of documents, boxes piled up next to a bookshelf that was in the midst of being reorganized or tore down. Sitting down in a older wooden chair that has most likely once had a cushion, the small lamp on the desk truly illuminated Jon’s face. There were pock marks strung around that looked painful, like gunshot wounds from point blank.
Jon cleared his throat clicking a small plastic box that started to emanate a whirring.
“Live statement of Arthur Lester , regarding his interactions with David Harne, taken January 13th 2016, by Jonathan sims head archivist of the Magnus Institute
Statement begins.”
Arthur took a breath, his head buzzing with worry of slipping up.
“I suppose the first time I met David was about- er a month ago now? John and I were looking for a apartment which proved much more difficult than I had thought. If I’m going to be honest it was more expens- “
“What is the scar on your neck from?”
“Myself.”
“Why?”
“To try and prevent the king in yellow from taking John back.”
The silence that followed was thick, dangerous, and stifling. Arthur’s ears rung as his heart started to return to a resting beat, what just happened. It felt like a puppet on strings or like it was being dug out of him or- or when the king had looked through his mind.
“What. Did. You. Do.” Arthur stood, slamming the chair on the ground with the momentum, the loud bang made Jon flinch back. Arthur faintly thought, that of course John and him would get wrapped in another cult or some shit. Jon didn’t respond fast enough for Arthur’s liking and he lunged towards him grabbing the collar of his sweater and pinning him to the rickety shelves. No doubt the scuffle made a large amount of noise but he didn’t care, he only asked the same question.
“Answer me. What do you do to me. Or better yet what was that!” Arthur slammed him against the bookshelf again, the look in his eyes was fear, and it was because of him.
Gods he hadn’t properly seen someone be afraid of him since Parker, even then it was mainly his partners doing. But the satisfaction then, compared to nothing now, to know he had the power to have the means to do this- well it felt invigorating. In Arthur’s integration with only a few threats his john must have run in because once again he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to pry him from his prey.
A low animalistic growl came from Arthur as he backed off, the claws in John’s hand the only thing that seemed to convince him.
“I- I apologize, I didn’t mean to- it just-!”
Jon stuttered as Arthur and John whispered to each other, John’s face went through confusion, surprise and quickly he to was glaring at Jon, or was it disgust on the taller man’s face?
The tension broke with a sharp knock on the door, and a muffled voice.
“Jon? -heard are you—?” It was a feminine voice, Arthur didn’t leave time for whoever it was to enter the room , he grabbed John’s arm and left as fast as possible, slamming the office door behind him. The waiting room looked the same as he left.
“Arthur Jesus Christ, slow down!”
“ we just got a normal life back! I’m not getting wrapped in something like that again!” Arthur spun around to meet John’s eyes, bright yellow.
“At least walk up the stairs, these no need to sprint.” But there was a little voice in his subconscious to run and to hunt and to leave, something was coming he just couldn’t see it.
The walls were old, with a green wallpaper that was falling apart in some areas, just down the hall and they’d be in relative safety. Just down the hall Arthur thought as John grumbled his protests against the whole day, just down the hall Arthur thought as the danger that the animal brained part of him turned the corner and ran into him.
“Ah, apologies I couldn’t see you coming.” It was a stern looking man, greying hair almost like Jon’s, but his was uniformly short, and vibrant green eyes that almost glazed over when he tried to look at Arthur.
“Are you statement givers? I don’t think I’ve heard yours yet. And you haven’t spoken to the archivist yet, can I suggest you go back? It’s awfully rude to leave mid-appointment.”
He ushered them back with certainty on which made John and Arthur walk backwards- to the archives- to the danger-! And then they were at the stairs again, with the man still walking behind them.
—
And then they were there again, sitting across from a much more annoyed looking Jon, as Elias lectured him.
“-Really Jon it will be fine, now Arthur, John? Please be respectful.”
He gave a court nod and left the small room. The feeling of being stared at was so heavy it felt like Arthur was being pressed into the floor. John must have felt it to as his human form rippled, every so often when the dim lighting flickered a golden shadow surrounding the both of them.
Jon cleared his throat, looking increasingly more and more uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry if it means anything- I hoped that Elias wouldn’t, um catch you?” The archivist scratched at his arm where a few pock mark scars lay.
“If you’re going to ‘ask us questions’ I think we deserve some too.” John crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. There was a recorder going on, which sat next to a fresh mug of tea that seemed to have suddenly appeared.
“Well, I suppose I’ll just erm- can you talk about the king in yellow you talked about? And what that has to do with John?” The archivist made a clear point of avoiding eye contact, it looked like he was even cringing at his own question. Arthur mused to himself on the rules of Jon’s… abilities, eye contact seemed to be a key factor and his eyes also seemed to gleam when asking them.
“The king in yellow is a being of unimaginable power, lead by greed and a spreading madness, or he was until a botched ritual occurred and a part of him was severed. Great now that’s laid down you can answer my earlier question. What was that little trick?” Jon looked confused for a second as once again his eyes glowed a slight green, a tell tale sign of what ever was wrong with him.
“You talk about the king in yellow like he’s real? It’s a book… and more than that fiction entirely.”
“…he is - or was what do you mean fiction book?”
Jon looked puzzled for a moment more before sighing.
“…are you not familiar with the lovecraftian style of writing? It’s quite popular for horror, cuthulu, nyarlathotep, and technically hastur- the king in yellow.”
It’s seemed as the breath in both Arthur and John’s lungs froze- those names the beings they encountered or felt the pain inflicted upon them, they were fiction. A book or a series of the sorts, not a malevolent being set on resetting the universe or a regal king meant to bring absolute madness in the most artistic form.
John spoke first- shakily not nervous more so in revelation.
“so Kayne isn’t- and The king… I just-“ he trailed off putting his head in his hands, losing all bravado he once had. Arthur quietly cleared his throat.
“So, I’m not going to beat around the bush, you’re obviously not human or just some bastard who decided to join some voodoo cult shit.”
Jon looked hurt before gaining composure once more (these questions were really doing numbers on them all it seemed).
“You’re not entirely wrong, it’s true there is ‘supernatural’ beings or concepts that exist and there is a large amount of cults for them- fear that is. It’s not necessarily like a physical or sentient being more of a driving factor one can serve or be victim to.”
Fear, not by a sentient beings ability to cause but the genuine fear attacking or scaring people? Arthur’s head seemed to spin with the information, he rubbed at his temple and sighed as John spoke up.
“So you’re a cultist or what a follower of this fear? That’s why you can rip information out of us?”
“I wouldn’t say cultist…” jon faltered as he looked at the door which Elias left, seemingly praying for him not to come back. “I thought this who er- position was just an archiving job, and then one thing led to another and..”
“What organizing papers gives people powers now? Cut the bullshit.”
Even now after what both John and Arthur went through they couldn’t just believe anyone- no matter how much they compare to a wet cat, people are still dangerous. Jon, looking stuck at a point where he didn’t know and speculation, pinched the bridge of his nose and with a air of finality finally spoke up.
“I don’t know… this is all new to me and it’s not like I can control it, besides not making eye contact or whatever is at play- I just- it’s complicated. I mean not to mention the others like me but not? It’s these stories, it’s not like you can tell which ones are real or not- so I’m here getting stuck in a job position with ‘benefits’ not in the description!”
Huh well seems like they weren’t going to get much more out of him, especially now that Jon looked not far from tears. Arthur sighed and got up, it was their time to leave anyways. John looked at the other Jon one last time as he left the room, who was promptly shuffling through more boxes.
The hallway was exactly the same from when they left, except now that adrenaline wasn’t running through Arthur’s blood he could pay more attention at the suspicious amount of discarded fire extinguishers.
“So…”
“So.”
John and arthur looked at each other as they finally left the building, there was so nagging thought that seemed to relentless chew at Arthur as they talked on their way back to their apartment, what did Jon mean by others like him?