Chapter Text
Searching down dark, smelly alleyways was a familiar pastime for Jon at this point. He'd been at it for the last few months now. He couldn't sleep. Not until he knew what was going on. Not until he knew which of his coworkers had killed Gertrude Robinson.
Some of them were starting to catch onto him. Martin and Tim had tried to sit him down and have some sort of intervention, but Jon had avoided the both of them with practiced skill. He made it to the end of the workday and left on time for once. He didn't go home, though. He staked out behind Tim's place. Tim got home at the usual time after a dinner out with friends and poured himself some alcoholic beverage.
He only ever had alcohol on hard days. Maybe he thought that Jon was getting closer to the truth. That Tim was the one who killed Gertrude. He had been the most defensive, the most resentful of the new measures Jon had put in place to keep himself safe.
Was it necessarily smart to camp out behind the home of someone who might be a murderer? Who might be planning your murder? Probably not, but Jon had to know.
Jon watched Tim get settled, once again glad that Tim lived on the ground floor so he could watch.
Jon pulled his scarf up farther over his nose as someone approached the complex to go in, looking tired after a day of work.
Jon wished he still felt tired. He tried to sleep, but his vigilance (fine, yes, he knew it was paranoia) would keep him awake until he got up to stalk his coworkers or look into their personal and past lives and update his cork board.
And he knew that a cork board was probably a sign that this was going too far. He knew that he might need to talk to a therapist, but something inside of him screamed that he wasn't crazy. That someone was after him and he had to get them first.
He wished he could shove this all off as paranoia. He wished he could get a therapist and tell himself he was crazy, but something had been coming to get him. Something had eaten his bully in his place. A woman filled with worms had come to the archives after terrorizing his assistants. Jon had been eaten alive by worms. He'd been chased by things in the darkness. The previous head archivist had been killed. Shot.
He was next. He knew it.
A car pulled up into the car park nearby and the door opened. Jon tucked himself farther into the shadows and groaned softly when he saw Sasha stepping out of her car.
He really did not want to be spotted by her, though. She would be severely annoyed with him for watching Tim the way he was right now.
He watched her make her way to Tim's apartment, narrowing his eyes as she walked.
She was probably the person Jon felt the safest with.... he was pretty sure. Sasha was supposed to be the next head archivist, but she had never seemed upset with him over the fact that Elias had chosen him rather than her to fill Gertrude's place. He felt that if she had been the one to kill Gertrude she would have kicked up more of a fuss about his placement. Instead, she had congratulated him and got him a really nice gift.
They hadn't talked much since then. She stayed busy and out of the way. She hadn't actually talked to many of them since the worm incident. Even Tim.
Jon frowned. That was odd.... but Tim had been angry recently, so he could understand if Sasha wanted to stay away from him for a bit. Or maybe they'd had an argument outside of work hours. Or she was working through her own trauma over the ordeal with the worms.
Sasha did not knock on Tim's door, though. She walked to an out of the way spot and just stood there.
Jon watched her, confused.
She simply stood and stared through another of Tim's windows. Watching Tim. It made Jon feel a little sick to his stomach. Was that what he looked like while he was watching his coworkers at night? Why was Sasha here watching Tim?
Jon couldn't wrap his mind around it. He needed to know but he didn't dare break his cover.
Sasha watched Tim, uncannily still before she cocked her head and turned to look at Jon.
Jon felt his heart jump in his throat. There was nowhere to hide from her. No good excuse for him being here.
She started to walk over, a strangely blank look on her face.
"Fancy seeing you here."
That was wrong. Jon didn't know how it was wrong, but now he felt as though he was in serious danger. But, Sasha wouldn't hurt him. She wouldn't hurt anyone. This was Sasha.
She might hurt him for catching her watching Tim. Or for watching Tim. She would know how angry Tim would be knowing Jon was just out here staring at him like some creep.
"I.... I can explain."
"Oh, no need. Martin told me. Paranoia hits like a lorry, doesn't it?"
Jon nodded mutely.
"Wonder why that is," Sasha said, turning to stare at Tim.
They stood in silence until Sasha said, "Hey, Jon."
"Mm?"
"Think he can feel us staring at him? I feel as though he should be able to, but he never turns his head, does he?"
Tim was watching some sort of procedural drama and Jon wished badly that he would look around. He wouldn't even mind getting caught in the act of spying as long as someone knew where he was and who he was alone with.
"Sure," Jon said when he couldn't come up with any other response.
"It's funny how many different things people don't notice. Important things."
Jon flinched away from her. "I have to go, Sasha. I'm sorry. I'll forget you were here if you'll-"
Sasha grabbed him by the arm. "Where do you think you're going, Jon? Didn't you want to watch Tim?"
This wasn't Sasha. Jon has no idea how he missed that before, but this wasn't Sasha. He couldn't remember any other Sasha. He couldn't think of when he would have last seen the real Sasha, but he knew deep in his bones that this was not Sasha and that the real Sasha was dead.
"What did you do to her?" Jon asked, unable to help himself. He had never been able to help himself. He was going to get himself killed, probably this very night if he was lucky.
"What do you care?" NotSasha asked. "You haven't missed her for months."
Jon shuddered as she reeled him in closer, pressing his back to her chest and holding him there like he was a child that needed to be soothed. "Let's just watch Tim for now, yeah? No more questions."
He felt his breath hitch in his throat as her, its, hand trailed up his chest and came to rest against his throat, one finger gently probing at his adams apple.
"Please don't kill me," Jon whispered. His heart was pounding in his ears.
"I won't kill you," it said. Its lips brushed his ear as it said, "We need you."
"For what?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, little archivist," Notsasha said and Jon closed his eyes, shuddering as it's finger moved up and down his throat, tracking his adams apple as he swallowed.
Jon tried to get air into his lungs nervously, looking at Tim. Would he hear anything if Jon shouted for help? Would he turn and look.
"If...." he paused. NotSasha had told him no more questions, but it hadn't reacted badly to him asking the last one. Was it safe to ask another?
"I'll tell them," Jon said softly.
NotSasha laughed. "You think they'll believe you?"
"They have to."
"No, they don't. Especially not when I've been telling him that you've been seeing things and I think you have something against poor old Sasha."
Jon trembled. He could imagine it. Locking himself in his office as the others assumed he had gone off the trolley. NotSasha always there, waiting until.... until.....
He wished Tim would just look out the window behind him instead of watching the court scene on the TV in front of him.
"You know what? Maybe I will tell you what will happen to you. You will be taken. No one will be able to save you. You will be taken to a warehouse where there will be hands, but they will not belong to any human. They will trace lines on your body."
It started tracing along his limbs and chest, a soft breath of excitement escaping into his ear. "They will cut you along those lines. You will be flayed."
Jon opened his mouth to scream, to shout, to do something, but its hand reached up, holding his mouth closed and pinching his nose shut.
He squirmed as it continued, "No one will miss you. Your master has practically signed off on all of this, you know. We're just making the final plans. Maybe you will die alone, maybe I will drag Tim along and reunite him with his brother."
It released his nose and he sagged against it, trying to get the dizziness to clear. His heart was jack rabbiting in his chest and he trembled as it twisted to get a better look at his face.
"That's right, little archivist. You ought to be scared," it whispered. "I like seeing you scared. It has been so difficult keeping quiet around the office. Slowly setting things up to bring down terror on all of your heads. Especially his. I-"
"Jon!?"
Jon's gaze went to Tim's window. He had shoved it open, staring at horror.
Jon tried to break from NotSasha's grip, but it tightened its hold, laughing as it dragged him down the alley, his heels dragging over the pavement.
He fought tooth and nail until his mouth was free.
"TIM!!! HELP ME! TIM-"
Something slammed into his stomach and he gagged and gasped as he fought to remember how to breathe.
"Jon!?"
Tim's voice was distant, but it gave Jon enough hope to fight harder.
NotSasha eventually laughed, letting him go.
He fell forward hard, scraping his hands on the pavement as he caught himself, scrambling forward like a terrified crab.
It was still right there. It could grab him again. It was faster than him, whatever it was.
"Jon!?"
Jon shoved to his feet, stumbling as he looked over his shoulder. NotSasha smiled, wiggling its fingers at him before he got his legs to properly run.
He slammed into Tim's chest, hysterical as he grabbed at Tim's shirt and arms.
How could he know this was Tim? What if he had been replaced too? What if he was being set up-
"Come on," Tim said. He sounded terrified. "Come on, boss."
Jon lost himself to spiraling thoughts of fear, wondering where his death would be coming for him. Was NotSasha still watching them? She said there was nothing he could do. He would be taken and skinned and there was nothing anyone could do. He believed her.
He came to himself on Tim's coach, all of the blinds drawn and a blanket over his shoulders.
"You with me, boss?" Tim asked.
"Tim," Jon gasped, reaching out to grab his wrist. He felt a strong pulse there, and he knew in that moment that NotSasha had not had one. "What did you see?"
"I... I don't know what I saw," Tim said, looking deeply uncomfortable. "It's late and I've had a drink or two. I-"
"Please, Tim. Please tell me you saw Sasha. Please tell me I'm not crazy."
Tim stared at him, his tanned face paling significantly. "I saw Sasha," he whispered.
Jon closed his eyes, grief washing through him. How could he have not noticed? How could he have been so stupid. "That wasn't Sasha."
"I know it couldn't have been," Tim said. "Sasha would never do that. Not for a prank-"
"Sasha is dead, Tim. I know you won't believe me, but that thing replaced her. It's not Sasha and it is going to take me and skin me!"
Jon was babbling. He was babbling and he knew he looked insane and all he could hear in his mind was a therapist suggesting he was a child with a vivid imagination and that maybe he had a scary dream he thought was real.
"Boss. Boss! You have got to calm down."
Jon took several breaths before meeting Tim's eyes.
"We'll figure this out together," Tim said, reserved in his tone, but there was real fear in his eyes. "I'm sure Sasha is fine."
Jon wasn't so sure, but he just nodded, uncertain of what else to do.