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“33… 35… here we go, number 37.”
Tim’s stood in front of a small townhouse, doing follow-up on a statement Jon had asked him to look into. Truth be told, he’s not very keen on doing his job these days, but any excuse to get out of the archives is a good one, so here he is.
The statement was fairly straightforward: apparently the neighbors had been complaining of a “honeybee infestation”, and when pest control showed up, they’d found the hollowed-out husk of what used to be the homeowner. The man’s corpse was covered head-to-toe in fuzzy bees of an “unknown” species.
Unknown to anyone not familiar with the Entities, that was. Tim recognized the Corruption’s influence immediately.
He would’ve preferred to just burn the damn place down and be done with it, but seeing as it was broad daylight, and the house was connected to two other units, that plan wasn’t exactly feasible. Still, maybe he could enjoy the satisfaction of stomping the shit out of a few supernatural bees.
As soon as he opens the door he’s smacked in the face with the stench of decay and rotten honey. “Jesus,” he mutters between coughs, waving his hand in a vain attempt to dissipate the smell.
The inside of the house is even worse: the smell of honey is so heavy that Tim gags, and he barely swallows back a load of bile. Once he recovers, he does a quick sweep of the room with his torch: most of the furniture looked normal, if dusty, though he could see a few stray pieces of honeycomb still on the floor.
Off to the side is a hallway, presumably leading to the bedroom where the homeowner was found. As Tim heads down the hall, he notices a faint buzzing, getting louder the closer he gets to the bedroom.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear it sounded almost like… singing.
It’s a completely ridiculous thought, and Tim shakes his head to clear it away. “Damn it, Stoker, pull yourself together…” He continues down the hall, trying to ignore the thrumming inside his skull. When he reaches the door, he takes a deep breath, opens the knob, and heads inside.
The buzzing crescendos the moment he steps into the room. Dozens of bees fly out of the honeycomb-lined walls, converging into a large swarm looming overhead.
That is… far more bees than Tim was expecting. He’d thought pest control cleared out the bulk of them, but apparently not. He takes a step back, then another as the swarm moves closer, their buzzing like a hammer in his skull.
…Hello…friend…
Aaaannd now there’s a spooky voice whispering to him. Yeah, no, he’s out of here.
Tim rushes out of the house, cursing himself. God, what was he thinking, heading blindly into a Corruption den? That was just plain stupid. He’s lucky those bees didn’t turn him into a hive.
There’s a faint itching under his skin as he runs back to the Tube.
–
It takes three days for Tim to go back to the house.
He’s been restless ever since his first venture. The buzzing’s been a broken record in his head, an itch that only gets worse the longer he avoids scratching, and that will hopefully be alleviated with today’s trip. One more quick sweep of the place and then he’s done.
When Tim opens the door to the house, he’s once again greeted by the faint sound of buzzing, and he follows it down the hall to the bedroom. Unlike before, the bees’ song is neither loud nor defensive; it’s quiet, mellow, making pleasant background noise as Tim glances around the room with his torch. The place looks the same as before, the dark walls still covered in bits and pieces of broken honeycomb.
Something brushes against Tim’s skin.
There’s a bee crawling on his right hand.
“Shit,” Tim mutters, going stock still. He knows normal bees won’t sting if you leave them alone; he’s not sure the same is true for supernatural bees, but it seems safer than trying to swat it.
A couple more bees fly over to investigate, their soft fuzz tickling as they crawl around.
Hello, friend.
The voice in his head startles Tim so badly he almost drops his torch. It’s an odd, echoing noise, like several voices speaking as one. “Hello?” he asks, looking around.
Hello it’s nice to meet you will you be our friend?
Tim frowns. There’s nobody here except him and- “Are you… the bees?”
Yes. This is our home but our hive was destroyed and now we are alone.
“Your hive? You mean the person you killed?” Tim spits out.
Not killed. Given new life. He was lonely so we gave him our love and made him happier than ever before. We could give you our love and make you happy, too.
Tim’s grip on his torch tightens. “You know, weirdly enough, I don’t find the idea of being a living beehive appealing.”
Are you sure? The swarm croons. We are so full of love and you are so lonely. We would gladly share our love with you. Wouldn’t you be happier being loved?
Tim grits his teeth. “No.”
The noise in his head pauses, considering.
…Okay.
The voice has the audacity to sound disappointed before going silent.
The bees fly away back to the remnants of their hive, and Tim takes that as his opportunity to leave, this time for good. No matter what, he is not coming back to this damned house.
–
Tim keeps going back to the house.
It’s not entirely his fault. He just gets antsy if he’s away for too long, the itch to return getting worse and worse until he gives in.
Besides, it’s nice seeing the bees. They’re surprisingly chill as far as supernatural monsters go. They don’t try to sting him, or burrow into his flesh, just happily buzz around him singing their little songs. They talk to him, tell him about the happenings of the hive, and the more Tim visits the more he finds himself talking back. He tells them about his life and his job, they listen and cuddle up to him when he’s having a particularly bad day.
It’s nice, having some fuzzy little friends.
Tim starts finding excuses to leave the archives. He takes longer and longer lunch breaks, spends more time out doing “fieldwork.” The others raise an eyebrow occasionally, but don’t say anything. It’s not like he does much work even when he’s at the Institute. It’s not like he has to worry about getting fired.
This time, he’s even bought some flowers he’d seen in a park on the way over. He’d passed by them, found the color appealing, and idly picked them with the thought of giving them to the bees.
His friends, as always, are thrilled to see him when he returns. They tell him how much they’ve missed him, how lonely they were without him around. Tim returns the sentiment. His coworkers are…okay, but they don’t understand him. They don’t listen to his problems, or offer him reassurance.
They don’t care for him the way the bees do.
Once he’s in the house, Tim pulls out the bouquet and places it on the floor. To his joy, the bees immediately swarm the flowers. “Nice to know somebody appreciates my efforts,” he chuckles.
We appreciate you so much, the swarm croons back. We love this gift and we love you.
Tim freezes. “That’s- god, it’s been so long, I- I can’t remember the last time anyone’s actually said that to me-“
Then we will say it again, because you deserve to be loved and because we love you, we love you, we love you…
Their singing envelopes him like a warm blanket, and before he knows it, he’s crying from sheer happiness.
For the first time in ages, he knows that he is loved.
-
Weeks after his first encounter, Tim’s taken to spending every moment he can with the bees. He avoids the Institute as much as possible; he can’t stand the smothering gaze of the Eye, cold and uncaring and lacking the Love he’s come to relish.
As bad as the Eye is, his coworkers are almost worse. They keep asking him questions about where he’s been and what he’s doing, whispering about him when they think he’s out of earshot.
Tim’s not stupid. He knows on some level that what he’s doing isn’t healthy, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when the bees are the only joy he has left. Not when they’re the only beings in his life who love him.
He’s come to love them too, if he’s being honest. How could he not? They care for him like he’s one of their own. They give him company, and the safety of the hive, and beautiful, buzzing song. Tim only wishes he could give more in return.
As it turns out, he can.
He’s at the house one evening, laying on the bedroom floor. The bees are happily crawling all over him, soaking up every word as he tells them about his day. How the idea of going back to his empty flat gets worse with each passing evening.
“It’s weird,” Tim says, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve lived there for years and it’s never really felt like home. No place has, in ages, except maybe… here.”
The bees nestle in closer. You are like home to us too, they croon in their sing-song voices. You could be home. We could make you home and take care of you and we would love you forever.
Tim almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You mean you’d… make me a hive?”
Not a hive. Our hive. You would be our hive and our home and we would love you.
It’s one hell of an offer.
Tim just has to make sure of one thing. “And we’d stay together, always?”
Yes. We would be together and we would love you and you would never be alone again.
Tim sniffles, then nods. “Okay,” he whispers, trying not to cry, “then do it. Please.”
The joyous buzzing is music to Tim’s ears.
The bees quickly get to work burrowing, excavating chunks of flesh out, turning Tim into a proper home. They sing while they work, sing about how much they love Tim and how excited they are to finally be a family. Tim sits and listens, lets the bliss of their song wash over him as he’s hollowed out.
It only takes a little while before he is, blessedly, no longer alone.
_
It’s been a week, both since he was turned and since he last went to work.
His coworkers keep calling him, wanting to make sure he hasn’t been killed or kidnapped. He assures them every time that he’s fine, he’s just getting acclimated to a new living situation and will be back shortly.
People give him a wide berth during the tube ride; he’s not sure if that’s because of the faint buzzing underneath his coat, or the sickly sweet scent of honey oozing off of him, but either way he’s glad for it. He doesn’t want one of his hive getting squashed by some careless passenger.
The closer he gets to the Institute, the louder the buzzing gets, ultimately reaching a fever pitch when he steps inside. The Eye’s presence feels especially strong today; Tim takes a smug satisfaction in knowing that it has to Watch another power invade its temple.
“Don’t worry,” Tim tells his family, “I won’t let Bitchard or the others hurt you.”
We won’t let anyone hurt you. We love you and you are home and we will protect you because we love you.
Tim smiles to himself as he heads downstairs.
When he opens the door to the archives, he’s greeted with the sight of Martin standing in the middle of the bullpen, ranting about some statement giver.
“-and she had the nerve to call me unprofessional, just because I-”
He cuts off when he notices Tim standing in the doorway. The others look up, turn to see what Martin’s staring at and freeze, one by one, as their gazes fall on Tim.
Tim waves cheerfully at them. “Hey everyone! How’s it going?”
They say nothing, just stare at him like they’ve seen a ghost.
The spell is broken when a bee flies out of his cheekbone.
First to move is Daisy. She leaps towards him, teeth bared, only to be held back by Basira grabbing her arm.
“Daisy, wait- hang on a moment-”
“No! ” Daisy howls, “Look at him, Basira! He’s a monster and he needs to be dealt with!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Basira mutters. She turns toward the other end of the room. “ Jon! Get out here, now! ”
The door to Jon’s office flies open and he comes running out. “What, what’s happen-“
He stops dead the moment his eyes land on Tim.
“Hey boss,” Tim says with a smile. “Did you miss me?”
Jon is quiet for several moments. The tension in the air is palpable as he slowly crosses the room to stand face-to-face with Tim.
Finally, Jon speaks. “Tim,” he says, voice breaking.
“Jon,” Tim says jokingly. “Honestly, what’s with the theatrics? You’re all acting like I’ve died!”
Nobody laughs.
“What are you doing here?” Melanie asks, brandishing a knife. “Are you going to turn the rest of us into hives, too?”
Tim just smiles. “Oh no, nothing like that! I want to introduce you guys to my new family!”
Martin goes even paler, looking like he’s about to pass out. “Your… family?”
“Yep!”
And with that, Tim opens his jacket.
Martin actually faints, once he sees the holes in Tim’s torso. Melanie doesn’t fare much better; she gags, retches into the nearest trash bin. Daisy looks ready to rip him apart, stopped only by Basira’s death-grip on her sleeve.
And Jon…
Jon can only watch in mute horror as the bees emerge from their new hive.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jon manages to find his voice. “T-Tim, you- Christ, Tim, I’m so sorry-“
Tim waves him off. “Oh, Jon, you shouldn’t feel bad for me. This is the best I’ve been in ages! And I have you to thank for it!”
Jon freezes, the rest of the apology dying on his lips. “W-what?”
“Remember that statement you gave me, the one about the bees? Well, I broke into the house they were ‘haunting’, and I found these little guys! Pretty lucky you sent me over there to do follow-up, huh?” Tim says breezily.
Jon doesn’t respond. He stares at Tim, eyes thick and wet, before his small frame starts trembling. His sobs echo heavy and haunting through the archives.
The other assistants are quiet, watching with expressions that range from fear to disgust. It’s a little disappointing that they don’t understand this, but that’s okay. Tim doesn’t really care what they think.
He’s already got all the companionship he needs.