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Elias liked to think this was his favorite part of the entire process, but he knew it was actually only a tiny bit of it. The true fun would come later. Later in the years when they were so entrenched in things that they hadn’t realized that the cloud had closed completely overhead, realizing they were not in a job but a cage really. Later after they realized just how committed they truly were to the Institute.
He remembered his own moment of realization when he had gone from believing he was little more than a file clerk in what seemed to be a glorified museum for words and stories and learning that he was actually a finger on the hand of greatness. No, at that time, ensuring the files were neat and well kept, organized to a fault, he hadn’t been even a fingernail. More like a well trimmed cuticle that made everything look neat and tidy but had no real function.
Whereas the others fell into a hollow, feeling themselves filled with bleak despair as they learned their fate to the Institute and it’s Master, Elias had felt elation. There was truly a purpose, a reason for his existence, and instead of shying away from that being that had brought him here, Elias had embraced his Master. It was what had brought him to his current position. Perhaps when he had been hired, they had seen that in him though Elias doubted it.
He didn’t see it in others he hired, the ones that the voice of his Master whispered to him, encouraged him to push for their name on a contract so that no matter what they might chose to do, they were forever bound to this place and all it served.
Certainly he didn’t see it in the young, nervous boy before him who fought so hard not to fidget in his seat. His entire body seemed to vibrate with the energy as hard as he fought to sit still, rigid and formal. Just as rigid and formal… and entirely fake as his accent was. He wasn’t the first to try and put on airs to prove he should be there, and he was likely not to be the last. The difference with this boy was that Elias knew in that moment, he was destined for more than merely file clerk. Just as Elias himself had been.
Not to question, but are you certain?
Elias wrote the question on the margins of the pad before him, his expression unchanging as if he was doing nothing more than running through rote questions and not carrying on a conversation with what he could only describe as an eldritch being of immense power while asking those same rote questions.
There was a sensation at the back of Elias’ optical nerve that made his eyes water and he managed not to let his voice crack as he slipped a contract to Jonathan Sims, encouraging him to sign.
He started immediately, which worked well to Elias’ advantage. He hadn’t become Head of the Magnus Institute by not doing his homework, and he was certainly curious to find out why this one. Why the pain when he wrote a question he had written a million times before. Well, perhaps a few dozen, but never had it come with that sort of pain.
Outwardly he was certainly like any other assistant they’d hired. Out of his depth, lacking the actual knowledge or education for any job beyond the menial task of filing. Some came with that moment of clarity that they would be more. Others were merely cannon fodder, signing up to be used when needed to protect those that mattered. This one, Elias suspected, was the latter. But why?
So he took to watching him, spying on him, lingering about Gertrude and her Archives at odd hours, and putting himself in the same room with Jonathan when he could. Two months and nothing at all remarkable had shown itself. Not until he somehow managed to get the slip on Elias one day in the file room. One minute he was walking through the door, but the next when Elias followed him, he was gone.
Or so Elias thought until, after a few steps within and he turned to head back for the door and found his way blocked. Well, kind of blocked given Jon Sims was tall and lanky and so, had Elias actually wanted to push past him, it might not be all together hard. Instead he was curious.
“Can I help you with something, Jon?”
“Thought about asking you the same thing. There a reason you’re following me?”
“I think someone thinks too much of themselves. I’m the Head of the Archive, Jon, and so I am around. If that happens to be where you are, then coincidence surely.”
“Bullshit.” He took a step closer, crowding Elias.
Not particularly lean or petite, not by any means, Elias knew he still had the build of the athlete he had been at university, kept the same shape as was needed with what might come in the Archive. Running was sometimes certainly the only way to survive. Now was not the time.
“Jonathan…”
“Well that at least sounds better,” he said, chuckling. “But you can stop trying to pretend. I can literally feel your eyes on me when I’m working. I turn and you’re there. I’m not stupid.”
Now, more than ever, it was clear the accent most heard was an affectation. Oddly Elias found he liked Jon’s true voice much better. Less arrogant by a mile. Though the words, they caught Elias off guard. That gaze that watched them all, all of the time, it wasn’t often that obvious. It brought him back to that singular word again.
Why?
Before he could find a response, Jon caught Elias by the front of his shirt and pulled him close until their bodies were flush.
“So want to try and explain why you’re following me?”
It was tempting. Damn but it was tempting. Elias couldn’t often risk himself with lliaisons outside of the Institute. The chance that they were working for someone else was the greatest risk. Not to mention becoming attached to someone who was most likely going to die, if only to punish Elias. It would not be the first time he’d had a moment with someone who worked for the Institute, but Jon? Jon was different.
It was then that it hit Elias that why didn’t matter. He was. Jon was not cannon fodder, that much was clear, and as much as they were still working out issues because of Gertrude’s past dalliances with the likes of Mary Keays, or the ties Jonah Magnus had made that still fettered the running of the Archive, Elias could not take the chance. Not with Jonathan.
His hand caught Jon’s wrist, digging his thumb in hard against the small, tender bones of his wrist until Elias heard a snap, and then a howl from the boy as he jerked away. Glaring, eyes wide and anger infusing his face as Jon cradled his hand to his chest.
“Keep fucking following me, and I’ll fucking report you.”
He wasn’t sure to who, but Jonathan was gone before Elias could point that out. It was a shame really, but the Institute had to come first. It didn’t matter why Jon was important, but Elias planned on sticking around long enough to find out. Which meant not risking upsetting his Master by running the boy off. Even though it wasn’t as if he could go far. Not anymore.