Work Text:
The alarm rings at 6 AM. You pretend you've not been awake for some time when it does. You get up and put the kettle on the stove. Espresso is fine for work, but it feels cold and impersonal at home, so filtered it is. You eat french toast as you read a book, and try to not check your phone until you're done. When you finally do, already dressed and on the way to the Tube, the office group chat is weird. Your generally uncommunicative boss sent a very formal email at 5 AM to seemingly everyone in the archives.
Some worrisome news over the weekend. Please be in the conference room at 9 AM sharp for a staff meeting.
Elias Bouchard,
The Magnus Institute, London.
You pick up your pace after pausing to read it, along with your colleagues' intrigued speculation. You start to type out something, but then give up midway through and throw your phone back in your purse. You'll know when you get there.
The archives are a bumbling mess. People from every single department are hurdled together talking loudly to your coworkers. The archivist room is locked and awfully quiet, and you try and ignore the tar-like dread settling at the bottom of your stomach and finish up the tasks you left from yesterday as quickly as you can.
Time seems to go by faster than you expected, and soon the clock hits 8:50. You are the first to get up and are soon followed with uncomfortable silence.
The conference room is way too chilly, and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights would've drove you insane had not Elias immediately started talking as soon as everyone sat down.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm sure you're all intrigued by my... Enigmatic message. We happen to be facing some concerning news about our dearest head archivist, Gertrude. She has not communicated with anyone since Friday and seems to not have gotten back to her apartment either. I've officially filled a missing person's report, but I don't need to remind you that our relationship with the police is... Tenuous at best. We aren't to presume anything yet, but the prospects are not good and if anyone has any information that could be helpful I'd kindly ask you to come talk to me after this."
Everyone stands at silent shock for about half a second, the only maddening noise coming from the green-ish lightbulbs, until the room erupts with questions and bewildered comments. Never before had such a high ranking employee disappeared. This was work for the disposable assistants the institute lured in with its slightly above average wages. Elias soon interrupts the overlapping voices with an emphatic cough.
"I'm sure we are all very shaken by this sudden events, however we need to stay functional. Until further notice Jonathan Sims will be taking over Gertrude's post. Dismissed."
With this Elias leaves the room and this time the silence is more pronounced. You see one or two pairs of eyes quickly glance at you. Martin's head darts back and forth between you and Jon, who mutters an almost apologetic "Sasha..." that you immediately cut off.
"Congrats on the promotion, boss."
Then you get up and leave the room.
You're not angry. Not really. It's just that it had always been somewhat understood that you would succeed Gertrude as head archivist. Diligent Sasha. Intelligent, overqualified, overworked Sasha. She never said it out loud, of course, just little comments, tiny hints. When you get back to your desk you realize you have nothing to do. "You should loosen up a bit, Sasha," you can hear Gertrude's voice in your head "this place doesn't always reward hard work."
Jon walks through the door without looking at you, Martin close behind him. He looks suddenly overwhelmed with the mess that is the former head archivists desk, gazing back and forth between it and his own tiny mess of files and lukewarm cases.
Finish up what you were doing first, you feel like saying, Gertrude's files will need to be organized first, yours already are. But you don't. Jon assigns Martin to sort out his stuff, even though he clearly has more to do than you. You wait until he's lost into the Gertrude's files to get up and help Martin.
The days goes by fast, Jon going through his remaining work with the both of you before starting to record the statements. It's Wednesday when you arrive slightly late for work and Jon's corner is not empty anymore. A tall guy wearing an outrageously orange shirt is going through a cardboard box and taking out multiple travel memorabilia, positioning them carefully but seemingly at random on the desk. You look around, but there's no one to be seen. He only notices you when you throw the purse to your chair and it lets out a tiny squeak.
"Sasha?"
"Yes..?" Sasha voice fails her at first, not expecting to be addressed by name. The man opens the largest smile she has ever seen. "I'm sorry," he says, "I don't think we've been introduced, I'm Tim. The tea guy said you could show me around."
"Martin..." Sasha mutters, slightly disgruntled, and Tim nods. "Of course, can you just give me a minute?"
Sasha shows the basics to the new guy. Martin throws her an apologetic but amused look when they pass through the small badly lit kitchen. Sasha retributes it with a venomous stare, but can't help but feel grateful for the distraction. Her thoughts always spiraled back to Gertrude's disappearance whenever she wasn't doing something. It surely helps that Tim is pretty fun to be around. He mostly restrains himself to small comments until they're on your way back to the archives.
"So... Do you believe all this? Like, the paranormal stuff?"
"I..." Sasha pauses. Does she? Of course working on the institute she at least takes it seriously. But that's not the same as believing, not really. If you don't think too much about, it this is just another office job. One that pays well. One she's very good at. Sometimes she wonders if not thinking too much about it is why she's so good at what she does. "I don't know. I don't really care."
"Okay..." he says, a bemused smile cornering his lips. "You're a pretty interesting person, you know, Ms. James?"
Sasha smiles back, and sits back at her desk. In all her years working there, "interesting" wasn't an adjective people threw at her very often.
Martin walks in carrying two steaming cups, leaving one close to a distracted head archivist, and she notices Tim watching him intently. He quirks an eyebrow at her from the other side of the room and she shrugs.
She still has to go through some emails from Gertrude, but, for the first time in a while, this feels normal.