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In the days after the confrontation with Elias, the Archives’ usual tense atmosphere shifted. With the addition of Basira and her constant stack of library books, it felt more like an academic environment than it had… probably since Martin had to start living there. At the same time, with Basira came Daisy’s intermittent presence, coiled danger there to remind them all just how not normal their lives were, as if Jon’s battered appearance and mysterious research trips weren’t enough. Tim was gone more and more, unable to exist cordially alongside Jon and (Martin suspected) unwilling to get close with Melanie or Basira, in case they died like Sasha had. Melanie, though… she was the one who worried Martin most.
Melanie had gotten quiet, after Elias had confirmed that all Tim’s dire warnings had been true, and there really wasn’t any way to quit. That signing the contract tied them to the Institute, and it really wasn’t a hazing prank or an attempt to ostracize her. Martin was really worried about that quiet.
Before Jon came back, Melanie had been brash and loud and a surprisingly vigorous researcher, never holding back her criticism of the Institute’s technology and organization. Since finding out their ties to the Institute had been actively orchestrated, rather than some unfortunate supernatural accident, she hadn’t so much as glared at a tape recorder. It wasn’t a scared silence, though, or even a stunned one. More pensive .
Martin didn’t really know what to do about it, what might cheer Melanie up or get her to confide or what kind of off-work activity or friends he could push her towards. So he did what he always did, and made tea.
He’d been bringing Melanie tea, just as he did for Tim and himself, since she’d been hired, but after finding out how she took it he’d always dropped the cup off at her desk and left, not interacting beyond a brief greeting unless she took the first step. Today, he saved her cup for last, only stepping into the little recording room she’d started preferring to the assistants’ bullpen when he was good and ready.
He pulled the door shut behind him on his way to set her mug (old Ghost Hunt UK merch she’d started toting around the Institute as something of a point of pride, after getting into a scrap with a library assistant who questioned the show’s scientific rigor) down beside her elbow. Melanie hummed a greeting, as she usually did, but didn’t look up from the file she was reading.
Martin clutched his own mug awkwardly between his hands. “Hello, Melanie.” He let the silence drag on uncomfortably after that, unsure of how to begin.
Melanie glanced up, raising an eyebrow when he didn’t immediately leave the room. “Did you need something?” Her voice was stiff and tense, not the cautious friendliness from when she’d first been hired.
“I was just… I wanted to know if you were alright. I mean, obviously you aren’t- none of us are!- but I was wondering if you… needed anything. You’ve been really… closed off, since… since the whole thing with Elias, and Basira… joining the team, and all that.” He was fumbling by the end, frustrated with himself for not planning what he would say ahead of time.
Melanie pursed her lip s . “I’m fine. As well as I can be, after finding out I signed away my soul or whatever.” Her face changed, becoming contemplative, “Do you ever bring tea up to Elias, as well as everyone in the Archives?”
Martin furrowed his brow. “No? Elias’ office is two floors up, and he’s in charge of the whole Institute, why would I have… and it’s not as though I would now , knowing what we know!”
Melanie met his eyes., her own oddly intense “Would you consider starting? Do you know how he takes it?”
“…Melanie, what are you thinking?” This, this was exactly what he’d been worried about! Whatever this was.
Some of his alarm must have shown on his face, because s he shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of something else. Thanks for the tea.”
Martin shifted restlessly. “Melanie… you do remember what Elias said, the whole ‘heart of the Institute, if I go down you’re all coming with me’ thing. You’re not… thinking of testing that, are you? ”
“Since when is Elias known for telling the truth?” she bit out, pulling a pair of headphones from her bag in a clear dismissal. Martin reluctantly left, still feeling unsettled, but even more at a loss than before .
-
Melanie’s angry, curled up posture on the couch belied the gentleness with which she stroked the cat in her lap. “I’m going to kill him,” she said, glaring into the distance as though she could see her target from Georgie’s flat.
Georgie stopped stirring the pasta on the stove . “….Jon?”
Melanie’s head jerked up, shooting the other woman a different kind of glare. “No, not Jon . Elias!”
“You were just talking about how Jon ditched you all to do whatever, how was I supposed to know the topic had changed!” Georgie protested, waving her spoon through the air and scattering little water droplets across her kitchen .
Melanie sat up straighter. “I was going to ask for suggestions, but if you don’t want to help-!”
“With your murder plan?” She’d known Melanie wasn’t dealing well with the whole more-supernatural-than-anticipated-job thing, but she hadn’t realized it was this bad.
“With my plan to murder my literally evil boss ,” Melanie emphasized, waving the hand not occupied with giving The Admiral belly rubs . Georgie blew a hair out of her face, digging through her cupboards for a strainer.
“I thought you said that would kill you? Is he really doing something bad enough to be worth sacrificing you and all the others as well?” The idea put a knot in Georgie’s stomach. Jon had been one of the first connections she’d made after Alex, and Melanie had been one of her closest friends since just after her break-up with Jon. If she lost both of them at once… she would be afraid, if she could, that that would send her back into the emotionless fugue she’d barely clawed her way out of the first time. Even without the fear, the anticipation and loneliness of the idea gripped at her heart.
Although, based on what Jon had been like when he was staying with her, and the things Melanie told her sometimes, she supposed she ought to try to prepare herself for that eventuality regardless. Jon was obviously self-destructing, and Melanie had been different since… since the first time she went to give a statement at the Magnus Institute, or thereabouts. Worse, after the trip to India and getting hired there, and even worse after finding out she couldn’t leave.
“ He says if he dies so will we. And he lies all the time . I’m not scared to call his bluff!”
Georgie took a deep breath, thinking of how to phrase what she wanted to say. “I just think, that if you aren’t one hundred percent certain you won’t die, you should give serious thought to the chance that you might. You might not care if you die doing this, but I would!”
Melanie paused, visibly processing that before steeling herself to continue . “… So do you have any ideas.”
Georgie gave her an exasperated look, plonking the pasta down onto the table. “
I host a podcast. Why would I have assassination ideas?”
Melanie raised her eyebrows. “That’s not a no.”
“Melanie!”
“Alright, alright.” She let The Admiral climb out of her lap and took her place at the table.
“Just… think about how it would effect others if you died, not just yourself,” Georgie begged. The mental image of a headstone engraved with Melanie’s name blended with Alex’s slack face, the piercing briny-sweet odor of formaldehyde and methanol that surrounded the cadaver like perfume, Jon staring, staring through her dreams. She poked at her pasta, trying to regain her appetite.
“I’ll take it under advisement.” Melanie stared into her pasta, slurping up some noodles so that some of them flung across her cheek, staining her skin with sauce. Georgie leaned over and kissed it away before she could grab a napkin, and Melanie blushed crimson and warm beneath her lips.
Georgie figured that answer was the best she was going to get, and steered the conversation toward something lighter.
-
Daisy didn’t like leaving Basira alone at the Institute, where she couldn’t protect her from whatever Bouchard was planning (and she knew there was something besides stopping the Unknowing, just not what ), and with her Bouchard-orchestrated firing-in-all-but-technicality from the police, she spent plenty of time when she wasn’t hunting something down for him lurking in the general vicinity of the Archives. Despite that, she hadn’t made an effort to get to know any of the others better. Even if she’d wanted to, she assumed Blackwood and Stoker already had firmly set grudges over the way the murder investigation had gone, and her undisguised disgust for and suspicion of Sims, whenever he deigned to grace them with his presence or Bouchard made her babysit him on another research expedition. At least she hadn’t been asked to go on this latest one, hadn’t been told to leave Basira alone for coming up on a month now, with no end in sight.
She hadn’t really given much thought to King, which was why she was surprised when the shorter woman cornered her. She knew she avoided the rest almost as much as Stoker, but she was friendly enough toward Basira and could be relied on to keep her partner company when Daisy herself was away, so she’d written her off as unimportant but convenient.
The conversation opened bluntly. “You’ve killed people, right?”
Daisy raised an eyebrow. As if Bouchard hadn’t announced as much in front of the whole Archives staff. “Why’s that any of your business?”
King huffed, “ I’m going to get rid of Elias. Thought you might want to help.”
Daisy stiffened. “ Don’t . Have you lost it? If he dies, you all will too.”
King rolled her eyes. “He’s lying.”
Daisy pulled on the most intimidating expression she could, hoping her fear didn’t leak through. “And if he’s not?”
The assistant put her hands on her hips. “He is .”
Daisy bared her teeth. “And if he isn’t , Basira dies.” She had to cut this off before it went any farther.
“So you won’t help.”
“You’re not going to do it. You aren’t even going to try.” Daisy grabbed her bicep, trying to impart her threat through the force of her grip.
King set her jaw. “Fine.”
“ I mean it. Don’t think I won’t kill you if it means keeping her safe.”
King rolled her eyes. “Alright!” Her shoulders were stiff, but she didn’t seem especially convinced.
Daisy let her go and watched her storm off, undirected tension roiling in her bones, even though her expression made it obvious she was lying. Just what she needed. Another thing to watch. To actively protect Bouchard from if she wanted Basira to be safe. She growled her frustration to the empty hallway. Fantastic .