Chapter Text
With the click of a tape recorder, the recording of statement 0122204 ends.
Jon rubs his temple, head pounding with an ache he hasn't felt since his stress filled days in Uni. Good lord. While he would refuse to admit this to any of his assistants, he would really really benefit from leaving work early today. He feels exhausted.
Instead he takes a breath, and squeezes his eyes tight. The room is oddly silent, after the wir of the tape recorder ended and he finds himself grateful for this. Anything else would be grating.
He has not been adjusting very well to his new job.
It's painfully obvious, and even so he will never admit it out loud. He will, to hid last dying breath swear to Tim and Sasha that he doesn't need any help.
Not like he even knows what hed be asking for help with.
There's just.. there's so many statements to sort through, so many things to find and not enough people to give him any proper explanation for what this job exactly entails.
He knows the basics, ofcourse. He needs to look through the statements, record them on computer or tape to make them more easily accessible, and gather information on them with the help of his assistants. It should be simple, right?
It isn't. It really, really isn't. Everytime he speaks to Elias he can tell that he's been watching, the disappointed and eager gaze pining him down everytime he gives a status update. Everytime he talks to his assistants, he sees their worried looks and hears their concerned murmurs. They know, they all know how unfit he is for this job-
Opening his eyes, Jon cracks open the bottle of Ibuprofen on his desk. He takes it sparingly, only having a few when his chronic pain gets especially bad- but after the statement he just took..
It was unusual. To put it lightly.
Jon does not consider himself to be apathetic. It's an assumption that he gets from others often, that because of his bluntness and reasoning he doesn't care for the feelings of others. This is not true. He does care. Hes always been a bit of an emotional sponge, absorbing the heavy emotions of the people around him even if, at times, it seems like he can hardly understand them at all.
But- but this? It was an enitely new level. He could feel exactly what Nathan Watts was so afraid of he- he could practically see it. He's never been to that area. Not even briefly. Even so, when he described the alleyway that thing was found in he felt so entranced by the story that he swore he could see it. The tall, cavernous walls surrounding him, the dark ahadows that hid the figure infront of him, the thin, spindly fingers reaching out, beckoning him wanting him to reach out to knock-
There's a knock at his door, which startles him more then he would like to admit. He clears his throat, and straightens his posture, "What is it?"
Martin, one of his new assistants and a man Jon has found himself very much not liking, steps through the door. Not holding tea. He tries not to frown at this. Martin gives a hesitant wave, smile wavering a bit, "Mr Sims, someone um.. wants to talk to you?"
"I've told you to just call me.." he begins, already done with the conversation, then the words fully process, "I- pardon?"
Martin shifts a little, moving out of the way to reveal.. a very unruly looking goth. Jon blinks.
The person infront of him is a tall, almost lanky mam with black hair that reaches shortly past his shoulders. It's black, dyed very poorly based on the blond poking put at the roots. They're wearing dark, ragged clothing and Jon can't quite tell if they look so torn up on purpose or if it's just a result of being so worn.
The goth looks up at him, narrowing they're eyes and Jon squirms. They- they look so dark and piercing and feel uncomfortablely observant. It reminds him of the feeling he often gets in the archives, especially when he had recorded the odd statement.
Then their gaze moves away from him, instead moving to look at the room they both are in. Jon startles as he begins to speak, voice heavy with exhaustion,
"Where's Gertrude?"
Hm.
"Gerturde no longer works here, I-I am her replacement." He tries to not let any of his apprehension leak into his words. He needs to collect himself. Especially when his assistant is watching.
Theres a pause, then, "do you know when she'll be back?"
They're once again looking at Jon with those oddly piercing eyes, brows creased and mouth tilting into a frown. Jon mirrors this, apprehension giving way to irritation.
"Shes.. ah.. she's been reported missing for several months. At this rate, its very unlikely she's going to return," he takes a breath, "If you need to talk to the Archivist, you'll have to come to me. Otherwise I would rather you stop wasting my time."
The words come out much harsher then Jon intended but, well, tough. He's not in the mood to deal with any of Gertrudes.. loose ends, or whatever. What loose ends could that woman have even had? Maybe she misfiled their statement and now their out for revenge. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, and he suppresses a scoff.
"Oh." The goth exhales, and Jon considers saying something else when he begins again, "Did she uh. Tell you? About me, I mean?"
Jon is quiet for a moment, "No I.. was she supposed to?"
"She- seriously? Not even a note?" At the lack of response, their shoulders slump in defeat, "The hell am I supposed to do now.. God- fuck!"
Martin, who has been awkwardly and silently standing at the doorway takes a step back, into the hall, "I should probably.. um.."
Then he leaves, leaving the two of them comepletly alone. The goth looks at a loss, running their hands through their hair with an expression that borders on devestated. Jon sighs.
"Would you like to take a seat?"
They pause, eyes once again narrowed in on Jon but slowly and surely make their way twords his desk sitting in the chair across from him meant for statement givers. After taking a moment to consider it, he clicks back on the tape recorder.
"What's your name?" Is his first question, which earns him grimace.
"Do you really need to know that?"
"It's for the record, and, additionally, helpful if you want me to actually find any useful information on your.. problem. Whatever it is."
"I dont have a problem."
"Well, you needed Gerturde for something or another. Or am I just assuming things, and you just came over to say hello?"
"... Its not.. it's not that big of a deal. I shouldn't have come anyway."
"But you still did," he presses, "Would you like to explain why?"
Their gaze locks into his and Jon suddenly, very harshly feels as though hes being jolted out of his own body. Cold blue eyes narrow in on him, searching digging deep into his mind into his soul. Images of long spindly legs wrapping around his body around his brain controlling his every movement making him want to knock knock knock-
They close their eyes, and shake their head as though trying to shake themselves out of something. Jon's hands tremble underneath his desk.
"Fuck. Sorry- it's.. My name is Gerard."
Jon nods hurridly, and glances at his office door. Still open, and if he squints he can see the light of the breakroom across from him. Martin must be making tea. He's here, his assistants are here and the door is already open. Everything is fine.
He takes a slow, shaking breath and clasps his hands together in his lap. Everything is fine, nothing is wrong, now is not the time to have.. to have a fit.
"Right," he forces out, "Got a last name?"
"Keay."
The name tugs at something in the back of his mind, and he blinks. Gerard Keay. Where has he heard that name before? It could be something relating to the statements, or- or a note he saw somewhere?
He'll have to keep it in mind.
"..Thankyou. Now, Mr. Keay, what exactly are you here for?"
They frown when Jon says their name, "Gertrude offered to help me with something a while back. Said no. And now I want to take that back."
Jon, rather uncomfortablely notes how vague they are being and presses, "And what exactly is it that she offered? Is it something only she could do or.."
"I don't know!" Gerard snaps, "It's not like- I didn't ask, okay? Only thing she said, is that she could help 'get rid of Mary for good' in return for some favors. Didn't elaborate any further."
"... I'm not sure I follow."
"Look I- are you willing to help, or not?"
"I.. Im not even sure what im supposed to be helping with.." he groans, as his head drops into his hands, "I hardly even got here a month ago, good lord."
Gerard snorts, "I can tell."
His head whips back up, "E-Excuse me!?"
"I.." a sad, resolved laugh, "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have dumped this on you so soon if I- if I just knew she wouldn't be here I wouldn't have bothered."
"Mr-" he pauses, recalling the earlier discomfort when being called by his last name, "Gerard. It's unfortunate I couldn't be more help to you, I apologize for that. I can.. try to look more into this.."
Gerards eyes widen, and something akin to hope flickers in their expression, "You can?"
"I'm not promising anything," he sighs, "For all I know Gertrude didn't leave anything behind for you or.. or for me. But I'll atleast keep it in mind. If you insist on it, that is."
"I do," they nod, determinedly, "Even if you don't help me I'm going to look for any way to get rid of her. I cant.. I can't keeping living like this."
Jon nods slowly, although his mind doesn't fully catch up to what Gerards saying. Or what exactly he's agreed to.
"Right. Well, it's getting rather late now. We ought to be closing up."
"Oh. Hm. Sorry for that- didn't realize how late I showed up. I'll uh.. come around sometime soon?"
"I'll see you then."
Gerard gives him a peppy wave as they leave, and not even a few minutes later Martin comes stumbling back in. Literally. It's a miracle he's never spilled tea on any of Jon's stuff, how is it that someone so scatterbrained and clumsy managed to worm their way here anyway?
"What is it now Martin?"
"I uh- just wanted to see how that went..? You seemed pretty rough earlier.."
"It went fine. Not that it's your business anyway."
Martin exhales slowly, giving Jon a pointed look, "... right. Sorry."
"You can leave now."
"Y-Yeah.. okay. Make sure to not stay up too late this time Jon."
"Mhm."
"Goodnight, see you tomorrow."
"Bye Martin."
-
The next time Gerry shows up at the Archives, their head is much clearer then before.
They"ll admit, going to see Getrude was.. Very much an impulse decision. Not like they hadn't thought about it before! Every since she made the original offer, telling them that she could get rid of Mary in exchange for some help they'd thought about it almost constantly.
(Especially after the cancer diagnosis, and everything that came after.)
But they're stubborn. Maybe that's their biggest flaw in all of this, their stubbornness and the fact they would rather endure countless years of abuse then just.. Reach out, even when help is offered to him. Especially when the person who wants to help is probably just trying to use him too.
Funny, how after everything he actually misses feeling useful to someone. Atleast it's better then Mary forgetting them as she grew less and less stable, her failed ritual dripping into her each and every day turning her into something unrecognizable. Untangible.
They even miss her, in a way. Sometimes so badly it hurts.
They'd kinda hoped that Gertrude would be similar. That as soon as she'd find some way to make use of him, she'd string them along in her plans and they'd follow her loyally just like a loyal dog because in the end that's all they're good for, all they know how to do. Maybe that is what would have happened, not like they'll ever know.
Maybe Jonathon Sims will be like that too. Who knows, Gerry? Certainly not. Not that it matters. Not anymore.
Anyway.
Gerards head is clearer now, and because of that, they feel much much more in tune with they're surroundings.
The Archives feel oddly comfortable. Likely because of their connection to the beholding, the eye welcoming them with its heavy gaze rested upon their shoulders. They know that's not the only reason though, even if it is the main one.
The place carries many markings of a home, proof that there are people there who care about eachother. Calenders with birthdates marked, doodles and sticky notes posted on the wall- they even spot a few Polaroids in the halls, one featuring the people they met yesterday as well as some unfamiliar faces.
(They the names Tim and Sasha written down in pink sharpie, beside their smiling faces. Admittedly, they knew their names before they even spotted it. The eye seems to enjoy giving him information about this particular group, as much as a semi-sentient god of fear can enjoy anything.)
It's while they're in the breakroom, smiling fondly at the assigned coffee mugs, (who would've thought Mr. Sims is a cat guy? Adorable, really.) That the assistant they'd met before, Martin was it? Waloed in and found them in a place they by all means should not be. Oops.
"O-Oh-!" He startles upon seeing them, "What are.."
They wave, "Hey. Didn't mean to scare you, just got lost looking for the Archivist. He in?"
"Jon? Yeah, he's in, what do you.." His face lights up in recognition, "Ohhh.. your the statement giver from before, right?"
"You could say that, sure. Names Gerard."
Martin smiles pleasantly, and it makes Gerry feel all fuzzy inside. They're not use to people smiling at them like that, even the strangers who have no clue about their whole evil dead mother thing. Part of the whole scary goth thing.
It's.. nice, to be treated so kindly. Makes him a bit giddy.
Less nice, however, is the heavy fog that they can feel as soon as they lock eyes with the man. Gerry shudders, and shuts their eyes quickly to get rid of the feeling of being forsaken. Forgotten. Left behind, just like their mother wanted.
Hm. An Archivists assistant with an inclination to the lonely, thats.. not good. Does the Archivist know? ⁴
"It's nice to meet you Gerard," Martin says and reaches out a hand. With a moments hesitation, Gerry accepts it.
"Likewise."
They sit in a semi awkard silence for a few moments, and Gerry isn't quite sure if they should be the one breaking it (they've always been shit at following social cues) when Martin speaks up.
"Y-You wanted to see Jon, right?"
"Oh. Yeah. Is it a good time?"
"Is it ever.." he mutters, quiet enough that Gerry almost didn't catch it, then smiles once again, "I'll show you to his office."
Gerry likes Martin, they've decided. Maybe it's just because of his pleasant personality or the fact he hasn't once asked about they're scars, despite the burning curiosity that the eye feeds from, but Gerrys definitely growing fond of him already. They should probably mention the lonely thing to Jon, if he doesn't know already. Wouldn't want to lose Martin to such a nasty fate.
When the two of them get to Jon's office, Martin sends them a good luck and sympathic smile before he leaves. And yeah. Gerrys definitely not letting the lonely get this one.
God, when was the last time they spoke to someone? He's hardly had a full conversation and they're already getting... territorial. Ugh. What a terrible way to describe that.
"Knock knock," they say as they open the door, not actually bothering to knock. Jon looks up from his desk.
"Ah, Gerard. Your back."
"The one and only. Missed me?"
Jon raises an eyebrow, "If thats what you wish to believe, then fine. You'll likely be disappointed to find that I haven't gotten much more information for you since our last meeting. Things have been.. busy."
"Hm. That's alright, not in much of a hurry anyway," thats a lie. But who needs to know that really? Not like their mom can hurt anyone but them in this state, if she has the power to do even that nowadays.
"Hm. I do hope you understand I am trying it's just.. you've seen the state of the Archives. Impossible to find anything around here."
They huff, "Yeah, Gertrude seriously did a number on this place. At this point I'm suprised she isnt of the buried."
Jon tilts his head, a curious thing, and looks like he wants to ask a question when the door suddenly is thrown open.
"Boss, you will not believe what Sasha just- oh hello there!"
In the doorway is a tall, attractive looking man dressed in a colorful tacky button up and worn down jeans. He looks startled when he sees Gerry, and looks them up and down, eyes lingering on their eye tattoos. His name Timothy Stoker, they note, recalling the Polaroids from earlier.
Jeez, another assistant marked by the fear powers? Stranger too. That.. could be a problem, given the recent uptake in stranger activity.
They give him a small nod in acknowledgment, "Sup."
Tim quickly recovers from whatever suprised they felt before, although they do shudder. Likely from him Knowing their marks. God, he needs to break that habit.
"Hey! Nice jacket. Here to take a statement? Jesus Jon, I didn't know we were even doing those yet! Doing extra work behind double bosses back? Sneaky... kinda dig that for you."
Jon sighs, "He's not.. it's not statement related. I'm just helping Gerard with something more.. personal."
"Oh?" Tim pauses for a long moment, clearly thinking something over before his mouth makes an O shape and he begins to grin, "Ooohhh, I see I see. Didn't mean to interupt you two, apologies for that. I'll just be on my way then..."
"Excuse me?" Jon narrows his eyes, then flinches as though he was punched in the gut, "Good lord! Tim it's not like-"
"Relaaaax boss, I'm not a snitch! I'm glad your getting around, might as well replace that stick up your ass with something a little more-"
"Get out of my office."
"Sorry! Sorry, I'll leave you two be. Make sure you don't have too much fun, eh?"
"Tim I am going to strangle-"
"Bye bye!"
The door shuts, and Gerry just glances over at Jon curiously. He looks like hes about to break into hysterics.
"What was that all about?"
"Just.. Tim. Being himself. I am so sorry."
"Riighhtt," Gerry glances at the now shut door, "Well, if that's it then I should probably be on my way. See you soon?"
"... See you soon Gerard, hopefully next time I'll have something.. more of use to you."
They give a small smile as they leave, and it remains for most of their walk home. It only begins to fade as settles into his apartment, and is forced to face its oppressive emptiness.