Chapter Text

In all honesty, Jon had no memory of applying for the Head Archivist position. They had actually been perfectly happy working in research! Sure, it was mundane at times, but they knew where they stood in research; they knew how it worked. Most people had no idea what actually went on down in the archives. It was all very hush-hush and had never really interested them. So when they had heard about positions opening up down there? Well, they had obviously pushed the information to the very back of their mind. It was pointless to even think about it at all. So Jon got on with their life and tried not to think about why every position in the archives had suddenly opened up - that was, until they got the phone call from Rosie.

Rosie always looked tired whenever they saw her at reception, and her voice most definitely reflected that. There was always a hint of resignation and exhaustion in her words that was hard to ignore. “Hi, Jon! It’s Rosie from reception! Mr. Bouchard asked me to call and remind you that your interview with him is due to start in ten minutes.” 

They almost dropped the phone. Why the hell did their boss want an interview with them? When Jon raised their concerns, Rosie just sighed. “Your interview about a promotion to head archivist? Just a warning; Mr. Bouchard is very particular about punctuality.” Then she hung up, leaving a dumb-founded Jon in her wake.

Which was how exactly ten minutes later, Jon found themself standing outside their boss’s door. Rosie had warned them to be punctual, but they still couldn't help but stare, just for a few moments, at the polished wood in front of them. For some reason, they struggled to bring themself to knock on the door - as if something deep inside of them was screaming that this interview was an extremely bad idea. 

Not like they got the chance to knock anyway. As they lifted their fist, a voice rang out from inside. “You can come in, Jon.” Well, that wasn’t at all creepy. With some hesitance, they stepped inside. 

Jon wasn’t sure what they had expected from Mr. Bouchard’s office - maybe some bland and boring corporate office with a few personal items scattered around - but they were surprised; just looking at the office was...a lot to take in. 

They weren’t even sure what to look at first. Maybe at the countless bookshelves that framed either side of the room, filled with leather-bound books that looked about as old as the Magnus Institute itself. Or perhaps they should have started with the simple chalkboard that hung on the wall. All that was written on it was ‘Days Since Last Divorce’ with a neatly drawn zero directly underneath it. Jon wasn’t sure what exactly it meant and quite frankly? They weren’t sure they even wanted to know. 

Then there was the absurdly large portrait of Jonah Magnus that loomed over Mr. Bouchard’s desk. It made sense to have a portrait of the Institute’s founder, but they weren’t sure why it was so big. The portrait made them feel oddly…unsettled - as if it was more than just a regular painting; as if it was actually watching them. 

Finally, Jon’s eyes turned to the desk and the man that sat behind it. They weren’t close enough to make out the multitude of items that covered the desk, but they were close enough to see their boss clearly. Elias Bouchard had a small, amused smile on his face as he watched them. Well, that definitely wasn’t creepy! “Umm…” They hesitated as they tried to pick out the best words to say. “I think there might have been some confusion? I didn’t actually fill out an application form for the position?” Jon let out a nervous laugh. 

Mr. Bouchard looked far too calm about the situation. “But I have your application right here.” There was something about his tone of voice that was just...cold; like it was trying to challenge Jon to disagree. But then he held up a piece of paper and sure enough, it was filled out with Jon’s handwriting. Maybe they had just forgotten filling it out? But still, they didn’t have any reason as to why they would have applied to begin with. “Take a seat, Jon.” 

Reluctantly, Jon sat down. “I should mention that I have no experience with archiving, so I’m not sure how good of a fit I would be for the job, Mr. Bouchard.” The chair was made out of worn leather that seemed as old as everything else in the room. The only thing that seemed even remotely young was Mr. Bouchard, but even then there was something about him that felt...far older than he looked. Perhaps he just had an ‘old soul’ or maybe it was just another of the Institute’s many mysteries? There seemed to be a lot of those. 

Jon glanced at the desk, finding it just as weird as everything else in the room. There was a framed photograph that had been placed face down and - was that a stack of pre-signed divorce papers?! Jon didn’t ask. This was supposedly a job interview and it would be rude to ask. “Though, I do have a friend with prior experience that may be a better fit. Sas—”

“I’m well aware of Sasha James.” Mr. Bouchard leaned forward slightly, watching their every movement. Jon squirmed under his gaze. “But I’m not looking for experience, Jon. I’m looking for hard workers, which is something I’m told you’re rather good at.” Jon wouldn’t call themself the hardest of workers. Sure, they put actual effort into their job, but they weren’t extraordinary at it; they weren’t any better than anyone else. They certainly weren’t any better at it than Sasha. “And please, I don’t want this interview to feel too formal. Call me Elias.” Mr. Bouchard - Elias, Jon corrected - requested with a friendly smile that felt anything but friendly.  “Right, well. We should probably get on with things. Tell me, Jon, how are your empathy skills?”

“My empathy…?” That was definitely not a question they had expected. They were expecting more job-focused questions. What could empathy possibly have to do with working in an archive? “Well, they’re...adequate, I suppose. I do my best to try and relate or sympathize with people when I can. I wouldn’t call them any better or worse than anyone else’s.”

Elias nodded as if that was the answer he had been expecting all along. “I see.” He hummed. “One of the jobs of the Archivist is to take statements from...visitors to the archives. Some of them can be a tad sensitive about the things they come to discuss. As such, empathy really is a key skill.” Jon had seen some of the visitors that came to the Institute before and ‘sensitive’ certainly felt like an understatement. Some of them looked horrified , as if they had experienced every single one of their worst fears. “Have you ever had any experiences or incidences that could place you on a similar level to our statement givers or any experiences that could perhaps help you understand them better?”

For some reason, Jon felt compelled to give as honest of an answer as they could. It was as if there was something at the back of their mind that nudged the truth onto the tip of their tongue. 

“I-I lost my parents as a child and it had a large impact on my childhood and how I was raised. My grandmother took me in.” Why was Jon opening up so freely to a man with whom they had never even had a full conversation before? It was...odd, but they found themself unable to stop. “So I think I would be able to at least somewhat relate to those coming in to talk about people they’ve lost or loved ones that are no longer with them.” 

As Jon watched their boss, they realised he looked dissatisfied by their answer. There was a look of almost disappointment on his face. “I see.” Had they said something wrong? Had they said something they shouldn’t have? “Are you sure there’s nothing else? No other experiences you’d like to divulge? Nothing that would fit with the nature of some of the statements?” he pressed almost desperately. Jon did their best to act as if they weren’t absolutely freaked out by the man - especially as he leaned over the desk slightly, watching them like a predator would its prey. 

“There was one incident. I think it was with a Leitner? That’s what you call them, right? The books that are tied to... strange incidents. I’ve heard people from artefact storage talk about them a few times…” Something deep inside them seemed to lead them away from going on a tangent. It pushed Jon towards continuing the story - like they couldn’t go on with their life until the words had finished spilling from their lips. “It was a children’s book my grandmother got me. A Guest For Mr. Spider .” They squeezed their eyes shut for a brief moment, trying not to think too hardly about the hellish book. “There was an...incident involving it. Some sort of...creature abducted a local boy that had stolen the book from me. Though, I think that memory may be down to my own imagination.” They cleared their throat. 

Shockingly, Elias looked positively delighted with the story. “How...interesting.” There were a lot of words Jon themself would have used but ‘interesting’ was not one of them. “Well, that’s that then.” Apparently Elias had heard everything he wanted to hear. Though, Jon had no idea what that had been. “I’ll have Rosie send you an email with the details.” 

Wait, what? Had...Had they just gotten the job by divulging childhood trauma? Their boss offered Jon his hand and they reluctantly shook it. “It was nice meeting you, Jon. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future.”

Jon left the interview stunned. They just stood outside the office and tried to comprehend what the hell had just happened? Somehow, opening up about their childhood trauma had gotten them a promotion to a job they were still certain they had never applied for. Great. 

Sure enough, they received an email to their work email address from Rosie detailing their new job description. Oddly, when they read the job contract included in the email, they saw an interesting clause. 

Written in the contract of employment for the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute was a section that read “ by agreeing to this contract, you confirm that you are not Peter Lukas, you are in no way affiliated to Peter Lukas, you are not working here on behalf of Peter Lukas or an associate of Peter Lukas. To the best of your knowledge, information and belief nothing from the archives will make its way into the hands of Peter Lukas .” Jon wasn’t really sure what to do with this; who was Peter Lukas, and why did Elias hate him so much? Oh well, they thought, I’m not Peter Lukas, so I guess I can sign? And so they signed the contract and emailed it back.

The job itself seemed insane. Jon had gone from mild research to head of a department they had yet to learn anything about. All they knew was that their predecessor - Gertrude Robinson - had left under undisclosed circumstances. They also knew she had left the archive in enough of a disorganized mess that it sincerely caused Jon genuine emotional distress. There was no explanation; no filing system, just statements thrown around or piled up senselessly. It was one of the most horrifying things they had seen in their life so far. 

At least Elias had let Jon pick their own archival assistants. Their first choice had been Tim Stoker. How could it not be? The two had been friends since Jon started working at the institute and at least Tim would bring some sort of positivity to the absolute mess that was the archives. Their second choice was even more obvious than their first: Sasha James. The woman that would have been far better at their job and deserved it even more. At their inability to find a third assistant, Elias had introduced them to Martin Blackwood. Despite Jon’s protests (and there were many of them) against Martin’s place in the archives, Elias was dead set on the matter and his word truly was final. It didn’t particularly help that Martin was Tim’s boyfriend. How wonderful. 

So Jon found themself with three assistants and not even the smallest idea as to what they were doing. 

To be honest, with how confused Jon was with everything about their new job, the cat should have been the least confusing thing. Except, there was a cat in their office, and there definitely had not been a cat there when they left. So now they had three assistants, no clue what they were doing, and a cat.

“Miaow?”

Jon jumped at the sound coming from their newly-acquired feline colleague. Admittedly, it was a pretty cute cat. They'd always had a fondness for white-and-orange tabbies, though this was unusually large. Jon stared at the cat, unsure what to do. Should they try to pet it? Call someone? Who would they even call? 

Oblivious, or perhaps simply indifferent, to the near-audibly-spinning gears in Jon's brain, the cat simply stared back, revving up a quiet purr. Jon sighed. Well, it was a cute cat. Might as well pet it? Jon tentatively reached out a hand, unsure if the cat would jump back. To their relief, the cat accepted their offer of affection and gently headbutted their palm, beginning to purr louder.

“Oh, you are a gorgeous creature, aren’t you?” Jon murmured delightedly. The cat seemed to purr louder, as if understanding Jon’s words, something they suddenly realized wasn’t entirely impossible - at least, not at the Magnus Institute. 

Jon groaned in distress. This was only their first day on the job, and they already couldn’t even keep their office under control enough to keep random cats out! What if the cat had come from Artefact Storage or something? After all, despite how lax security was here, Rosie seemed competent enough to keep a random cat from wandering in off the street. Jon sighed, and then suddenly became aware that they had - without realizing it - taken a seat at their desk with the cat in their lap, absently stroking its back for who even knew how long. The cat just continued to purr.

“Well, I suppose if you were some dangerous supernatural kitty you would have hurt me already, huh?” Jon crooned at the cat in their lap, which only smirked at them smugly in response and tucked into an even tighter ball. “You know, as cute as you are, you can’t stay here forever, poppet.” The cat looked up at Jon with big, sad eyes. Jon was beginning to feel distinctly bullied. “Fine, you can stay here a bit longer, but you have to stay quiet, okay? I need to record these statements.” The cat seemed content with this arrangement, and settled into Jon’s lap before beginning to doze off.

Jon smiled softly. They had been nervous about this new job, but cats always made them calmer, and this cat in particular reminded them of the Admiral. They reached to grab a statement from where it sat on their desk, trying not to disturb the sleeping cat as they did so, before clicking the button on their tape recorder. 

“Ahem. Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh. Original statement given April 22, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.”

The hands of the clock ticked on as Jon read statement after statement, their voice filling the office, interrupted only by the occasional purr. Jon realized that they hadn’t felt this at peace in a long time. They knew that - considering the distressing nature of the statements - they shouldn’t feel quite so at peace, but there was something about the quiet whirring of the tapes blending with the purring of the cat in their lap that was utterly relaxing. They had never felt calmer; maybe they would take a short nap? 

Which was, of course, the moment that the door to their office slammed open. 

Standing in the doorway were Martin and Tim, both looking frazzled. The two of them were covered in dust and cobwebs as though they had been crawling through the tunnels that were rumoured to run beneath the Institute, although Jon doubted even creepy tunnels would have stopped them in their frantic state. Jon resisted the urge to walk over to them and fix their hair. It didn’t matter that disheveled and sweaty was apparently a look that worked for Tim and Martin, there was a dress code to follow!

“Jon! Jon, have you seen a cat anywhere? Tim and I have been looking for ages and we can’t find her anywhere and I promised the shelter I would have her back by six tonight!” Martin’s voice was frantic, clearly worried sick about this mystery cat. Jon would offer to help them search, but their lap was a little occupied with— Wait a minute...

Jon looked down at the cat purring in their lap. With a sigh, they carefully lifted it up to face the two men standing in their office doorway. “Is this the cat you’ve been looking for?”

Martin’s face lit up instantly. “Yes! Oh, thank god you had her, I was so worried!”

There was no way Jon could have been prepared for Martin’s smile; it seemed to light up the whole room in a way that took Jon’s breath away. They wanted him to smile like that again. They wanted him to never stop smiling. They wanted -   No, bad Jon , that is Tim’s boyfriend. Jon shook their head slightly, trying to rid themself of these strange and quite frankly unprofessional thoughts. They cleared their throat, and adjusted the cat in their arms self-consciously. “Yes, well, she has been quite safe, I promise you. She was just helping me record some statements.” 

Oh god, why did I say that?! Why did I just imply that I need a cat to help me do my job, I am supposed to be their boss and competent. Jon’s thoughts were racing, and they felt the anxiety they had shoved beneath the surface earlier bubbling back up with a vengeance. Before they could completely tip over the edge, however, the cat in their hands gave an impatient chirp and, with uncanny precision for what had to be a blind swing, stuck her tail directly into their mouth. By the time they'd finished sputtering in shock and indignation, to their surprise, their breathing was almost back to normal. Jon paused and looked at Martin, who'd lost the fight to keep his smile at the cat's antics locked away but had, valiantly, resisted breaking down into full laughter. 

“You said she belongs to a shelter? Does, uh. Does that mean she’s up for adoption?”

Martin grinned. “She is ! Why? Do you know someone who might be interested? She really is a good cat! It's just that people tend not to adopt older animals for some reason.”

Jon sighed. Were they really about to do this? It wasn’t like the cat was totally alone or anything! She had the shelter, and apparently Martin and Tim as well. Then again, they hadn’t had a cat in so long, and they really did miss living with the Admiral…

“How much is she?”

Martin seemed inexplicably confused by the question. “I’m sorry?”

“To adopt. How much would it be to adopt her?” Jon tried to sound professional, but considering they were trying to adopt a cat they had met only a few hours ago, they decided that any semblance of that had been thrown out the window.

Martin shared a confused look with Tim, who just shrugged in response. He sighed and turned back to Jon. “£55, I think? You'd have to talk to the shelter directly, but, uh, they’re open ‘til 6 today if you want to come with us and adopt her? She doesn’t have a name right now, so you'll even get to name her yourself!”

Jon smiled; they had just the name in mind. “I think she looks like a Gertrude, don’t you? Better Gertrude, maybe.”

The three of them shared a knowing smile and Better Gertrude hopped up on the desk to settle herself on Jon’s laptop, looking quite pleased with herself. 

“Well, boss,” Tim interrupted, “we'll leave you two alone for now, but Martin and I were planning on getting some drinks after we brought her back to the shelter. You’re welcome to join us if you want?"

Jon looked down at the cat happily perched on their desk, then back up to the two men waiting in their doorway. “That sounds lovely. See you at 5?”

Martin and Tim agreed and left, whispering to each other as they went. Jon quietly smiled to themself. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, they thought. After all, when you have a cat, a team of assistants, and some friends, even the weirdest boss isn’t that bad, right?