Work Text:
Boots trug on the hardwood floor as Gerry pushes the weak door to the archives open. The door creaks with age, only adding to the dull ache in his head. Gerry's body leads him limply to Gertrude's office, not a fortress of calm but a safe house all the same. He closes the office door, then swiftly crumples into a mess of limbs and badly dyed black hair on the floor against a fileing cabinet. "I assume it did not go well" Gertrude speaks unphased eyes surely focused on a statement but looking unimpressed regardless.
"No, went great" Gerry replies with dry sarcasm, muffled from his unique choice of positon. "Some warning that the slaughter would make an appearance might of been nice by the way" the words have no bite to them strewn lazily from his throat they sound more like the argument of apathy then a genuine strife. Gerry's eyes where too droopy and his mind too hazey to put effort into anything.
On a regular day there was no chance Gerry would fall asleep anywhere near Gertrude Robinson, nevermind on her floor. But today or rather the last week had been a horribly tireing mess of no sleep and murder fresh on his tail.
So Gerry lay there on the floor and waited for sleep to take over. He doubted Gertrude was crual enough to kill a man when he was down. As a soft doze began to hit Gerry the last thing he heard was the disapproveing tuts of Gertrude and a stapler.
Gerard never remembered his dreams, to his knowledge he never had, or maybe he had when he was a child and dreams where full of happiness and calm. Instead Gerard wandered the fog. He knew it wasnt a dream because the dreams he did have (but never rememebered) sent him into panic, where the fog was cold but inviteing. Like a hug from his mother he never got, so soothing, so assureing yet not real. Gerard knew the warm cold was baiting him to a lonesome life but was he not allowed to feel this soft melancholy he could only see in the rippleing lakes and the rustleing trees?
Misty memories of his mothers uncaring eyes, not too sharp in this light but cold enough to rival the dull rounded ache in his head. Evocation: his fathers warm loving arms craddleing him from the world of hurt around them, eyes to young to remember but the soul and body never forget. Flowers wilt softly in the icy cold cul de sac that Gerard wandered faithfully. He knew he couldnt forever but for now whilst his only friend was a snippy archivist who would probably be his end it would do as some form of comfort.
The warmth returns slowly, in fragments. First its the smell: ashy and dull, books and ink, oakmoss perfume loud yet still dull in the room. Then the sounds: her voice frigid and crisp a quick reminder that he's not safe, his ears listen hungerly to her as she talks sternly to someone on the phone. His sight: the sharp warm glow of the lights burning in the calm, the mess of her archives a complex plan in its very existance, the hardwoord floor- oak and scratched with scars of history. Feeling: the cold comforting metal of the fileing cabinet, the loud screaming pain from deep with in his bones- the marrow itself working against him. Lastly his body: in all its pain and glory, bones crack as he moves and fresh wounds seere in agony begging for attention.
"Have a nice nap?" Gertrude asks condicendingly. "Yea actually quite serene" he replies, she stares at him with what Gerry can only describe as curiosity. Like she could see a plan hatching and she wants to know what will happen next. "Alright well I'd like a statement of what happend" she says hastily. "I literally just woke up from the first sleep I've gotten all week" he complains. "And i imagine my floor leaves much to be desired. So give me your statement and you may go home with your pay" Gertrude responds.
Gerry sighs ,he knows its futile to fight "Fine" he gives in. Willing himself off the floor and to his feet, he sits down in the ridged chair across from her. With a click the tape begins to were "Gertrude Robinson recording. November 12th, 2009. Statement regarding a slaughter manifestation." She looks to Gerry and he takes a small breath to get his thoughts in order. He was glad she hadnt compelled him even though his body ached with fatigue. "Where am I starting from?" He asks calmly. "The beginning" she responds.
"So we where researching in preperation for the unknowing when you stumbled upon a taxidermy shop called the trophy room which you thought might be pertinent to the unknowing so off I went to enfield for a little snooping. The place smelt horrid to be honest, I've lived with dead things and I can tell you there was more then just one or two cadavers in that hellhole. I spoke with Daniel Rawlings ,he clearly suspected me of something though I cant begin to imagine what" Gerry says sarcastically throwing up his eye covered hands in faux exasperation. Gertrudes lip turns up in what was practically a laugh for her and Gerry gives a smug smile in return.
"Anyway, we spoke for a little over 20 minutes. I didnt find anything useful other then he was definately working with the stranger. I think any use they might of had for it to begin with is gone now that they know we know about it. Before I could leave though, this weird guy came in. I imdiantly saw the blood in his eyes. Obviously I swiftly left but after a couple blocks I noticed he was following me. I was unsure if he worked with the hunt or the slaughter, their so similar. I didnt want to accidentally trigger something in him by running, he seemed crazed enough to give into the beat of the blood if I did. Soon after though, I started to notice the people around us and realised if he didnt attack me he'd attack them and atleast I could survive a slaughter wound, however painful it may be. So I ran, I broke into a sprint and a chase gave way. I think he might serve both because the feeling of breath on my neck, teeth on my tail and an ever so omnipresent feeling of dwindleing hope was all I could feel. I darted through the narrow streets of Enfeild to Haringey to Camden till I was in the city but the slaughter still chased.
I ran for days Gertrude, days. When I left the trophey room it was Tuesday, its Friday now." He says clearly pretty ticked off. "I've been in long hunts before, one's that lasted years but never one that bad. At least in longer hunts you get breaks but anytime I looked over my shoulder he'd just taken the opportunity to get closer. I eventually stopped looking back and just assumed he was behind me. When my legs finally stopped I crashed into some poor old lady and when I didnt die I knew he had backed off for now. My body ached in all meanings of the word and I was exhausted but I'm not stupid enough to pass out in the street if I can help it aft such a bad chase. I saw a vintage shop that I usually stop by at when I'm here and let muscle memory guide me back to the institute." Gerry says, just glad to have it over with.
"Did you get a look at the man chasing you?" Gertrude asks. "Kinda, you know how I am with faces. Once I've slept I'll try draw something of what I remember." He says. She makes a sound of approval and digs an envelope out of her drawer. "Come back when your rested, I dont have any work for you that cant wait for the moment" Gertude says. Gerry gets to his feet lazily barely managing to keep his balance "good to know I'm indespenceible" he jokes as he tucks the envelop into his pocket. "Ah now Gerard you know your a valued resource" she says sarcastically with a small smile on her face. Gerry hopes thats the truth, for all its faults and short comings he really did like his life at the moment.
And termination from the magnus institute is usually lethal.