Chapter Text
Martin is sneaking a cat into the archives.
He hadn’t planned for his day to start like this, but it had looked so sad when he’d found it around the side of the building, and it hadn’t protested when he’d come over (in fact it had been rather friendly) and the next thing he knew he was smuggling a cat into his place of work with vague intentions of pretending he was doing followup on a statement after his lunch break to take it out to a vet to see if it was microchipped.
So far it had been a quiet cat, so he had hope that he’d be able to sneak it past his boss, and Sasha and Tim would probably be willing to work with him.
When Martin tucks the poor thing under his jacket, it’s shivering violently, and he tries to think warm thoughts.
Luckily, the side door closest to the archives has already been propped open, and when Martin gets to the archives, Jon is already shut up in his office and the main room is empty.
Martin sheds his coat and folds it up, then places it under his desk and lays the cat atop it. The cat immediately burrows into it until only its eyes are visible. Martin thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
Sasha comes in a moment later from the break room.
“Good morning, Martin!” she says with a smile.
Martin straightens up, trying not to appear guilty.
“Good morning, Sasha,” Martin says. “How was the commute?”
“Oh, you know,” she says, dropping into her chair. “Watched a uni kid almost get his backpack eaten by the train hurtling out at the last second.”
Tim sweeps into the room next, striking a dramatic pose in the doorway.
“Never fear, good and loyal coworkers, I am here!” he declares, somehow managing to imply a sweeping cloak with his leather jacket.
“Ah, whatever would we do without the great and mighty Tim?” Sasha asks, booting up her computer.
“Perish the thought!” Martin half-gasps as he drifts over to one of the unclaimed desks covered in papers. He’d thought he had left the statement he was researching on his desk yesterday, but he had a bad habit of forgetting he had things in his hands and putting them down on any surface that was nearby.
“Who else would save you from the tedium of the archives?” Tim says grandly, making a flourishing gesture that nearly knocks his cup of pens to the floor and sends a few sheets of paper fluttering into the air. He curses softly and goes to retrieve them.
“Oh, Martin, your coat’s fallen to the floor. Here, I’ve got it.”
Martin whips around in abrupt panic. “Tim, wait-”
There’s a hiss and Tim makes a startled noise.
“Tim?” Sasha slides her chair over slightly and cranes her neck.
“ Martin ,” he announces delightedly and much too loudly, “Did you bring a ca- ”
Martin shushes him. “Not so loud !”
“What is it?” Sasha asks, still at entirely too high a volume, as Martin rushes back over to his desk to shoo Tim away from the poor cat.
“Hell-
lo
,” sings Tim, and Martin reaches down to grab him by the shoulder.
“ What are you doing.” Martin shoots straight up, and Tim freezes where he’s crouched half-under Martin’s desk.
“J-Jon! Good morning, how are y-”
“Tim, I can see you .”
“Oh, I just knocked a pen under-”
“Martin thought he saw a mou-” Tim and Sasha both try to make excuses at the same time, but are interrupted by a hiss from under the desk.
“Is that a cat?” Jon rounds the desk.
“No, just had something caught in my throat,” Tim says, beaming innocently upwards and turning in an attempt to hide the space underneath Martin’s desk from view.
There is another hiss from underneath the desk.
“ Really , Martin? Again?” Jon says.
“It looked cold! I couldn’t just leave it- ”
“Tim, move, you are scaring it.”
Tim finally scuttles out of the way, and Jon squats down to peer under the desk.
Martin shuffles his feet.
“Martin, what exactly was your plan here?” Jon queries, exasperated.
“It was just for the morning! I was going to take it to the vet and see if it was microchipped on my lunch break! And it’s been really quiet and good except when Tim was bothering it-”
The cat pokes her head up out of Martin’s coat and Jon and Sasha gasp softly at the same time.
“Hello, lovely,” Jon says, carefully offering a hand out. the cat delicately sniffs his fingers and allows Jon to gently scratch it’s ears for a few seconds.
“...Alright.” says Jon abruptly, standing up.
“What?” Martin says, a little bewildered by his sudden attitude shift.
“Just for the morning. Make sure it doesn’t pee on anything. And-” he meets all three of their gazes. “Elias cannot know.”
Martin finds himself frantically nodding, a smile stretching across his face.
“Just leave it to us, boss,” Tim says, and then Jon is gone again, shut back up into his office.
Sasha snorts a little, breaking the silence. Martin sags into his chair in relief, clutching at his chest. “I nearly had a heart attack when he came out-”
The three of them dissolve into giggles.
Sasha leans over to observe the cat, who is watching them all from it’s coat-bed. “Oh, look how cute!” she coos.
Tim hauls himself back to standing, nearly tipping a pile of files perched haphazardly on a chair to the floor.
“Come on team,” he declares in an awful impression of Jon. “Just because we have an archives cat doesn’t mean we get to slack off on work.”
“It’s not an archives cat , Tim, it’s just ‘til the afternoon when I can take it to a shelter.” Martin protests.
“It is a cat, it is in the archives, therefore it is an archives cat.” Tim says.
“He’s got a point, you know,” Sasha teases, and Martin sighs, turning to his laptop.
At Martin’s lunch break, he gets ready to go.
He’s found a shelter and he’s loaded up the directions on his phone.
The cat’s been quietly napping in his coat the whole morning, and Martin has gotten a good ways into his work for the day, even between periodic pauses where the archival assistants have fawned over the cat.
Midway through the morning they’d done some frantic googling and given the cat some deli meat from the sandwich Tim had brought in for his lunch, which it had hungrily devoured.
Martin leans down and offers a hand out to the cat, who unburies itself to stare at him. “Alright, up you go,” says Martin softly, gently scooping the cat up and then retrieving his coat from the floor. Martin takes a moment to be amazed at how docile the cat has been before heading to the door.
“I’m off!” He calls to the archives at large, and Tim pops up from his computer.
“Is it lunchtime already?” Asks Sasha as she rounds the corner from document storage with yet another box crammed with files.
“Goodbye, my wonderful archives cat,” Tim coos, gently cupping the cat’s face in his hands. “I will always remember you.”
“Stop it,” says Sasha, gently nudging him out of the way for her turn at one last pet. “Nobody’s going to war . In fact you’ll likely get a nice lovely family, nice as you are.” She scritches her nails gently over one ear and then steps back. “Alright, see you later, Martin.”
Tim looks Martin dead in the eyes. “Marto, this is a mission of utmost importance, but I have complete faith in you. Godspeed, comrade,” he solemnly declares. Martin laughs.
“Thanks, Tim.” After a last check to make sure he has everything he needs, Martin sets off.
Just as he’s about to turn the corner into the stairwell, a door slams open behind him.
“Martin!” Jon calls, hurrying over. “I just wanted to let you know you can take as long as you need. If Elias asks I’ll just say you’re out doing some followup or something.”
“O-oh! Alright! thanks, Jon,” Martin says, and beams down at him.
Jon glances away, eyes landing on the cat cradled in Martin’s arms. His face softens as he gives his own farewell pet.
“Goodbye, lovely,” he says affectionately, and then rather abruptly jerks himself back.
“Right then! You’d best be on your way. I’ll… leave you to it.” With that, he spins and purposefully strides back down the hallway. Martin smiles after him, and then heads off to the tube station.
He only gets a few odd glances, and when he finds the shelter, there are only two other people in the waiting room.
“Hello,” says the receptionist when he walks in, bell tingling above him. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, actually, I, ah, found a stray cat this morning and figured I should see if it’s microchipped,” Martin says.
“Alright, then, just sign in here please,” she beams, pushing a clipboard and pen over to him. Martin gently shuffles the cat over until it’s cradled in one of his arms and fills in the information. The receptionist looks over the sheet once he’s done and nods. “I’ll take this little one back right now. Are you able to stay?”
Martin nods, handing the cat over the counter.
“Great! I’m Suzy, by the way.”
“Martin,” he replies.
“Come on, you,” Suzy says affectionately, and disappears into the back of the clinic. The cat peeks around her side and gives a plaintive meow as it’s carted off. Martin feels guilty as he settles into one of the chairs around the edges of the room.
Barely ten minutes later, Suzy comes back sans cat.
“She’s in fine condition, a little malnourished but we don’t think she’s been on the street for very long. Unfortunately she’s not microchipped. Do you have an interest in taking care of her, at least temporarily?”
“I would, but my building doesn’t allow pets,” Martin says mournfully.
“Ah, that’s a shame. We have some room here, so hopefully her owner will turn up.”
“Yeah. I-I guess I’ll be going, then.”
“Thank you for bringing her in!” Suzy says.
Martin feels unusually cold on his trip back to the Institute, even with his coat zipped all the way up.
The archives seem somehow empty and quiet the rest of the day, even though everything is the same as it’s always been.
Two days later, the cat is waiting for him when he comes into work. Martin stares down in disbelief, employee keycard held at the ready to open the side door which hasn’t been propped open this morning.
“What are you doing here?” Martin asks. The cat meows quietly at him and stares expectantly.
Martin sighs, scoops the cat up, and opens the door.
When he reaches the archives, Tim and Sasha are both in already.
“You will never believe who I found this morning on my way in,” Martin announces from the doorway.
“Archives cat!” Tim exclaims, lighting up instantly.
Jon chooses that moment to come in from the break room.
“Oh, hello, Ma- did you bring in another cat?”
“No! She was just waiting at the door when I came in somehow! I don’t even know how she got here, it’s a ten minute trip on the tube!”
Martin braces himself as Jon squints suspiciously at the cat. She stares innocently back. Jon somehow manages to squint even harder. The cat slowly blinks and then wriggles out of Martin’s arms to pad imperiously past Jon, leap onto Tim’s chair, and curl up. A startled laugh bubbles out of Martin, and Jon rolls his eyes.
“Alright, what’s one more day. There’s hardly anything you can do about it now.” He sighs.
Tim and Sasha cheer and immediately rush to lavish attention upon the cat.
“I’ll bring her over to the shelter on my lunch break,” Martin promises.
Suzy is behind the counter again at the shelter when he walks in. She greets him with a smile, and an “Oh! Hello again!” Then her eyes drop to the cat.
“She showed up outside my work again this morning,” Martin offers as explanation.
“That’s odd,” she says. “Well, thanks for bringing her back.” She says, waving for Martin to follow her as she gets up and heads deeper into the building.
“I don’t know how she could have gotten out. Just put her right in here,” Suzy says, opening a door to a room filled with cats separated by dividers.
Martin deposits the cat gently into the enclosure Suzy points out and the cat stares up, all big eyes and betrayal. She mews sadly and Martin nearly melts on the spot.
“Have you had any luck finding her owner?” he says, tearing his eyes away with monumental effort.
“No, not yet, although it's only been a few days and we’ve put up ads. There's still hope yet!” Suzy says cheerily, leading Martin back out. He makes small talk and then heads back to the Institute.
Martin desperately tries to forget the sheer sadness of the cat for the rest of the day.
The next morning, when Martin walks into the archives, the cat is sprawled over the top of Sasha’s chair.
“How are you here.” He demands. “I took you to the shelter twice.”
The cat begins to innocently clean her face.
“Archives cat!” Sasha calls from behind him, swooping in and sliding a gentle hand along the cat’s spine as she passes to put her bag down next to her desk.
“Again?” asks Jon, coming out of document storage, teetering under a too-full box of statements that he can barely see over.
Martin rushes over to grab a stack of papers off the top before they slide onto the floor.
“I don’t understand how she’s doing this!” He says, trailing after Jon as he searches for a clear place to put the new box.
“We’ve got a little escape artist on our hands, hm?” Sasha grins, scritching under the cat’s chin.
“Don’t encourage her, Sasha,” Jon says dryly, finally finding a spot that seems to please him and heaving the box up. Martin places the stack of papers next to it as Jon begins to rifle through it. “At least Tim will be happy.” Jon continues.
As if on cue, Tim squeals in the doorway.
Martin brings the cat back to the shelter that afternoon, and Suzy is even more befuddled than the day before.
Today, the cat grabs his hand between her paws as he goes to leave, and it takes everything Martin has to not scoop her back up and take off, building rules or no.
After a few more weeks it becomes routine to come into work and find the cat either already inside or waiting by the side door expectantly if it hasn’t been propped open every two or three days. The longest they go without her appearing is four days.
The cat slides affectionately around their ankles, yells at them all for perceived slights, and has bullied Jon into leaving his door partly open so she can come and go as she pleases. He mutters threats under his breath at her, but there’s an undeniable current of affection to them.
Sasha comes in one day with tins of cat food, “Just so we have something to give her,” and Tim brings in several cat toys another. A litter box appears in the corner of the breakroom the next week.
Whenever the cat is in the archives, she disappears just before lunchtime, so Martin has to hunt her down in order to return her to the shelter once more. He’s gotten to know the staff there and even a few of the regulars, and the cat’s escape artist tendencies are the source of much joking. As the weeks become months, Martin tries not to become worried. He reminds himself that even if the cat’s owner doesn’t come forward, surely someone will be willing to adopt such a sweet cat. (Except she’s constantly escaping the shelter to come to the Institute of all places.)
Martin wishes that he could adopt her, but his building doesn’t allow animals. He’s asked Tim and Sasha and their buildings have similar rules. (He hasn’t gathered the courage to ask Jon.)
Luckily for all of them, the archives aren’t the most popular place in the Institute, and even when they do get visitors, they tend to be university students who appear in the afternoon, after the cat has taken the Martin-ferry to the shelter.
They have one close call with Elias about three weeks in. The cat has just disappeared under one of the extra desks when he comes in, and the three archival assistants immediately freeze.
“Good morning,” he says congenially.
“G-good morning, Mr. Bouchard,” Martin squeaks.
Tim rolls his chair over to Martin. “Keep it together,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth, and then turns a blinding grin on Elias. “Good morning, double boss! What brings you down to our humble archives?”
“Just a check in with our Head Archivist,” he says evenly, offering a glimpse of perfect white teeth.
Out of the corner of his eye, Martin sees the cat’s head poke out from underneath the desk.
Sasha suddenly stands up and promptly trips over the leg of her own chair just as the cat gives an inquisitive “mrrp?” As Sasha goes down, the cat ducks back underneath the desk in surprise.
“Whoops! I’m so sorry, it’s a little cluttered in here!” she says, getting to her feet.
“Are you alright?” Elias asks politely.
Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Sasha beams up at him, brushing off her legs.
“Do be careful, Miss James,” Elias says coolly, and then turns towards Jon’s office, presumably to loom menacingly over his desk.
“Good morning, Elias,” Martin hears Jon say acerbically. “Would you mind shutting the door?”
As soon as the door closes, the archival assistants leap into action, Sasha crouching down to grab the cat.
“Where do we put her?” she whispers loudly.
“The break room?” Martin offers.
“No, document storage, there’s a door,” Tim says, and Sasha dashes for it, Tim and Martin nearly falling over each other as they get up to follow her.
“Stay.” Sasha says firmly as she closes the door.
“She’s not a dog , Sasha,” Martin says faintly.
“Cats are smart!” she defends.
“Hopefully she doesn’t shred anything, Jon’ll go nuclear,” Tim mutters, and they all wince.
Elias’ volume suddenly increases as he gets closer to Jon’s door, and the three of them scramble back to their desks.
Martin tries to act natural, tapping rapidly at his laptop to get the screen to wake up and stares intently at it as the door creaks open.
“Think about it, Jon,” Elias says near-smugly as he steps out. Martin holds his breath.
There’s a loud meow from document storage, which Tim responds to by sneezing incredibly loudly.
Elias stops in surprise. “Bless you.” he says flatly.
“Thanks,” grins Tim.
Martin still hasn’t looked up from his laptop, but he still shivers under the weight of Elias’ regard.
Sasha sneezes violently over another demanding meow.
“Bless you.” Elias repeats.
Martin tries to shrink behind his laptop.
“Take care,” Elias says a little disdainfully, and then disappears around the corner into the hallway.
Tim mutters something under his breath as Martin lets out an explosive sigh and flops over his desk.
The cat yowls from document storage.
Sasha goes to let her out, and the cat stalks into the main room with a chastising rant.
“I know, you don’t like being shut up but Elias can’t know you’re here.” Sasha says down at her.
The cat sticks her tail up high and saunters over to one of the unclaimed desks to pointedly curl up with her back to them.
Martin giggles a little hysterically.
You alright, Marto?” Tim asks, a grin tugging at his mouth.
Martin pushes his glasses up to press his palms against his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. I can’t believe that worked .”
“Magnificent acting, Lady James,” Tim says to Sasha.
She sketches a bow. “What can I say, I’m incredible.”
The cat turns her head over her shoulder to glare insultedly at them, and Martin can’t help but laugh.
“I think we should have a name for her,” Tim decides one day.
Sasha gives the cat a considering look as she taps away at her computer. “Houdini?”
“Socks.”
“Kristen.”
“Nala.”
“Dorothy.”
“Biscuit.”
“Alexanderia.”
“Snowball.”
“Tim, you’re awful at this, she’s not even a white cat.”
“ You just googled ‘famous female escape artists’ and started reading off a list!”
Jon chooses that moment to wander in.
“What are you two fighting about now?” he asks, rolling his eyes.
“We’re trying to decide on a name for our lovely overseer,” says Tim, turning over to sit upside-down in his chair.
Jon hmm ’s and sidles over to give the cat in question a pet. “What about The Bandit?”
Tim scoffs.
“What! It’s a perfectly good name!
“It’s weird .”
“It’s unique .”
“Minerva,” Sasha offers.
“The Duchess.”
“Kit-Kat.”
“Marie.”
“Snickers.”
“The Colonel.”
“Do all your cat names start with ‘The?’”
“You’re just naming candy bars!”
“Toulouse?” Sasha interjects.
Tim’s brow scrunches up. “Is that the Aristocats?”
“Well Jon offered up ‘the Duchess’ and it made me think of it.”
Martin’s been squinting at the frankly awful handwriting of this statement giver for so long his head is starting to spin. They’ve been nattering along about coming into the archives and encountering some of the archival staff, as some statement givers are wont to do, and while it is kind of funny to listen to his coworkers go around, he’d just gotten into the swing of things when they started up. Martin looks up and makes eye contact with the cat, who blinks regally at him.
Before he knows it, a name is popping out of his mouth.
“Gertrude?”
The room goes absolutely silent, and the other three members of the archives staff turn to look at him.
“ Martin !” Tim says in scandalized delight, and the spell is broken.
“Oh my goodness, I don’t know where that came from, I was just reading this statement, and they were talking about her, I’m so sorry-”
“No- no it kind of fits?” Sasha says through a giggle. “The way she won’t take any nonsense from any of us reminds me of her.”
“And the glare she has!” Tim chimes in. “Gertrude glared at me once and I felt guilty for the whole rest of the day. Of course, our archives cat is too cute to really scare anyone, but she does have a mean stink-eye.”
Jon finally seems to find his voice. “We are not naming a cat after my dead predecessor.”
Tim is making a face Martin doesn’t like the implications of. He makes a noncommittal noise.
“We cannot do that,” Jon stresses.
“Alright, Jon,” Sasha says. Jon remains wound up for another moment or so, before nodding to himself and rising to his feet.
“Right then, back to work,” he says, not unkindly, and then vanishes into his office. (The door remains cracked for the cat’s convenience.)
Martin attempts to go back to the statement, but the cramped letters are starting to make his head spin.
“I’m buying a collar,” Sasha announces.
“But… we haven’t decided on a name?” Martin tries, desperately clinging to his last hope that this nightmare will be forgotten.
“Mm. Tim, what color should I get?”
He flips right-side-up and leans over to look. “Ooh, I like that blue.”
“I kind of like this green one better, though.”
Martin finds himself locking eyes with the cat once more.
Tim reaches over to scratch under her chin. “What do you think, Gertie?”
Martin wishes he could sink into the earth or vanish forever. He jerks his gaze away, and back down to the paper. The only word he can pick out is Gertrude .
“I’m going to make some tea,” he announces, and dashes into the next room before he can do something stupid like set the statement on fire.