Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Archival Assistant? More Like Archival Arsonist
The promotion would have come with a significant pay raise. And Jon lived in London.
Still, better to remain in a lower position and keep his job, rather than get a promotion only to be fired because he didn’t know what a goddamn head archivist is supposed to do. Besides, Sasha was the one who had actually worked for the previous archivist, she was infinitely more suited for the job than Jon.
Yet, it stung a bit to see that the pay raise of transferring from Research to archival assistant was barely anything at all compared to what the head position would have paid.
Jon was still smarting a little with what he refused to call regret when he entered the Archives, carrying a box of his things from Research as he moved towards the table that he assumed would be his, since the other two already had things on them.
The door to the head’s office was open, and he could see that the room was empty. The table had a tall pile of papers that looked like they were one loud word away from toppling over, and the yellow light from the table lamp flickered twice. Jon would have called it ominous if it weren’t such a stupid descriptor.
The flickering had been what caught his attention, though, and he froze.
There was a book on the table.
He walked, slowly, towards it, almost as if he were in a trance. His heart pounded in his chest and his breaths had gotten shallower. The book looked familiar. Too familiar. He stopped at the doorway into the office.
He could feel tiny legs crawling over his arms, under his shirt, on his face, and his breaths grew even more strained. He could hear knocking, very faint, as if it were coming from several rooms away, and yet stark in its clarity.
KNOCK KNOCK
His chest hurt, and Jon had to take in a sharp inhale when he realised he’d stopped breathing altogether. It was too loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sounds of knocking. Persistent, even, sharp knocking.
He took a step forward into the room, and then a smell hit his nose. Sharp and metallic, iron. Blood.
He couldn’t pass out, not now. God knew if he would ever wake up. If he would wake up, and if it would be within the many arms of a giant spider, in the process of being torn apart and devoured. He couldn’t pass out. He forced himself to breathe and took another step, closer to the book.
The desk lamp flickered again.
The vague outline of a plan was starting to form in his head, and Jon knew this was a supremely bad idea, but Mr. Spider had a way of wiping all rationality away from his mind and filling it with a blaring fire alarm.
Slowly, he felt around his pocket for his lighter. And yes, while he did feel horrendously guilty for carrying around a lighter and a pack of cigarettes even after having been clean for over a year, he only felt relief when his fingers curled around the cold plastic of it.
He grabbed three statements from the top of the stack, eyes never straying from the children’s book on the table, sitting there and daring him to pick it up and read and knock—
There was a quiet click as he flicked on the lighter, a tiny flame erupting, nearly as bright as the dim yellow light from the table lamp. It was a dingy room.
He held the flame to the corner of the statements, and they caught fire very quickly. He put it over the Leitner on the desk. And it was like a switch had been flipped.
He grabbed several statements, set them on fire, and stuffed the burning things either in, or around, or under or over the Litner, and slowly the book caught fire, cardboard cover and all.
He didn’t realise he’d been laughing hysterically until he felt his face wet with tears. There was a sizable fire going up on the desk, and the Leitner was lost among the debris of sacrificed statements. The table was wood. The tall stack of statements wasn’t so much a stack as a pile of ash now.
He took a step back, and then he heard Sasha’s voice, incredulous, high, slightly panicked, “ Jon? ”
Jon was going to be fired.
Good lord, he was going to be fired. He turned down the head archivist position because he didn’t want to be fired, and he was going to be fired anyway. Because of a stupid fucking Leitner which was the reason he joined the Insitute in the first place.
Perhaps he should be looking at the silver lining? At least he got to destroy the Leitner. The book is gone. Burnt to ashes.
Just like his career and life in London.
He would really, really like to have a smoke just about now. Maybe the entire packet. Who cares about lung cancer when you’re going to be a homeless brown guy in London anyway?
Wait— no, he still had a house in Bournemouth. He tended to push it out of his conscious memory whenever possible, but at least he wouldn’t be homeless.
It was not as reassuring a thought as he would like it to be.
Rosie gave him a small Secretary smile as he walked past her to Elias’ office. Jon was too high strung to return it, and instantly felt guilty. But turning back now to just smile at her would be weird and creepy, so he didn’t.
He wrung his hands once, twice, thrice. Before dropping them to the side and sucking in a deep breath. He knocked, and entered the room at Elias’ quiet “Come in, Jon.”
Elias’ office looked exactly the same way it had looked when Jon had been here previously, being offered the head position. Classy and handsome looking, comfortable arm chairs, books on a shelf lining one entire wall, and the absolutely massive portrait of Jonah Magnus hanging behind Elias’ chair that always felt like it was staring directly into Jon’s soul.
“Sit down, Jon,” Elias said, gesturing towards the chair. Jon sat, back ramrod straight, and a probably unpleasant expression on his face that would definitely not help his case right now. Not that he had a case. He’d just burnt down a few dozen statements, a Leitner that probably belonged in Artefact Storage, and the head archivist’s office desk.
“I have to say,” Elias started steepling his fingers over the desk and staring at him. His eyes looked remarkably similar to Jonah Magnus’, “You handled yourself remarkably well when confronted with a Leitner.”
“I– what?” Jon didn’t gape, but he was pretty close to it. That didn’t sound like he was getting fired. Unless Elias was mocking him. Was he mocking him? Probably. Maybe.
“I’m quite impressed, actually. Although, let me confirm, it was a Leitner that you burned, correct?”
“I– uh, yes. Yes, it was.”
“Hm, then yes. I daresay the others might not have done quite as well.”
“I burnt down Sasha’s desk!” Jon said sharply, quite aware that he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but what the hell? “I also burned several statements, not to mention carrying a source of ignition into the Archives. And the Leitner should have probably been put in Artefact Storage.”
“Jon,” Elias said, his voice gentle, “Most of the time, when one is unfortunate enough to encounter a Leitner, it usually results in the death of at least one person. You took care of it without any kind of loss of life. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Right,” Jon said, slowly, “Right. So…” he trailed off, looking at Elias expectantly. While the knot of dread and worry had dissipated from his stomach, something more subtle took his place. The way Elias was looking at him didn’t sit right, it made him suspicious.
Elias’ smile widened, “So, now you see why I wanted you as the Head Archivist? The spot is still open, if you want. I’m sure Sasha would understand.”
Jon stared.
Elias raised a brow.
“I already said I do not want the position,” Jon said very calmly, keeping his voice steady, even as he heard the blood rushing in his ears. “I am not qualified for it. Just because I managed to recognise and burn a Leitner does not make me well suited for an Archiving position.”
Elias’ shoulders drooped, and he gave a long, drawn out sigh, “Jon. Gertrude had been younger than you when she became the Archivist. I’m sure you would be able to handle the position.”
Jon lost some of his carefully controlled calm at that.
“Have you seen the state of the Archives?!” Jon said incredulously. He hadn’t even started working there yet, but just one look was good enough to tell even him that the Archives were not in a good state. “How the hell do you think comparing me to Gertrude is a good way to convince me to accept the position?”
Elias pressed his lips together in a thin, displeased line. And Jon suddenly realised that perhaps he should stop antagonising his boss. Who, so far, hasn’t shown any inclination towards firing him, but still had the power to do so.
He swallowed down the urge to apologise. He wasn’t going to budge now. Especially not now that accepting the position would mean literally snatching it away from Sasha. They might not know each other that well, but Jon would still consider her a friend, if not a close one. He wouldn’t do that to her.
“I see,” Elias said after a moment, “Well, then. I suppose there’s nothing to be done. The fire didn’t spread very far, and I’ve explained the situation to Sasha as well. The desk will be replaced in a day or so. I hope there won’t be any other issues settling into the Archives for you.”
Jon sat still for a moment, before forcing himself to move. He stood up, limbs stiff and uncooperative, and nodded to Elias. He was at the door when the man spoke up again, “And Jon? The offer is still open. If you ever feel… qualified for the position.”
Jon didn’t reply, hurrying away as quickly as he could without looking like he was hurrying away.
At least this time he remembered to smile at Rosie.