Chapter Text
Moorland House was big, old, and yes, even Jon had to admit, spooky. It sat, squat and ugly, looming out of the Kent countryside, it's dark walls silhouetted against the early evening sky.
"Nice place, huh?" Georgie called from where she was leaning out of the van.
"Hmm." was all Jon said in response. It was sufficiently atmospheric that he was in no doubt that their viewers would find some unexplained shadow in the corner of the screen and use it as undeniable proof. The whole affair was ridiculous in Jon's opinion.
"Come on, it'll be fun." Georgie jumped down from the van, camera in hand. "This isn't the most haunted place we've ever been, you can continue your little sceptic act no trouble."
"It's not an act."
"Sure."
"If ghosts were real, there would be infinitely more evidence than the handful of mildly unexplained occurrences. Most 'evidence' is cheap mockery of the paranormal at best and ridiculously idiotic at worst."
She groaned. "You're such a buzzkill. Lighten up, have a bit of fun. If you're always so stuffy and academic then you'll never actually have a good time."
"I'm having a lovely time. I just don't think there's ghosts."
"You two done?" Tim asked, coming around the side of the van. "We do actually have a show to film."
"Fine, yes, alright. Go on, grumpy, go get your camera." She pushed him gently towards the van. He rolled his eyes and went over to Tim, letting him strap the go-pro onto his chest and hand him all of the various pieces of equipment.
"Right." Tim clapped him on the shoulder. "Go bust some ghosts."
"Unlikely."
"That's the spirit."
Jon scoffed and turned back to Georgie, who was just setting up the tripod for introduction.
"Right, shall we get this over with?"
"You're grumpier than usual today. What's up?" She frowned at him.
He sighed. "We promised we wouldn't fall into cliche. Big old country house? That's cliche!"
"Oh and that hospital wasn't?"
"The hospital had a supposed 'demonic presence', not a two-bit ghost story. This is cheap."
She fixed him with a look. "I hate to break it to you Jon, but one of these days you're going to actually start paying attention. These places are haunted for a reason, people don't just decided to start seeing ghosts."
He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. They'd had this argument plenty of times, a repeat was worthless. She'd argue the international spread of the concept of ghost sightings, the occurrences of ghosts in serval cultures, the small shreds of evidence that couldn't quite be pinned down, while he'd argue rational thought, science, and logic. It was a lighthearted debate they'd been having since university, so much so that they'd decided to start a youtube channel documenting their attempts to find proof either way. People had found it, caught upon their banter and friendship, and they'd slowly built up a fairly sizeable following. It had annoyed Jon at first, but he'd eventually just embraced it. Why fight change, he supposed.
"Now, if you're done," Georgie said. "I'd like to start filming while we still have time."
-
If Moorland House had seemed ominous from the outside, inside was far, far worse. The house was cold; even the thick walls were unable to keep the heat in. It seemed to leach out through crakes in windowpanes and the cracks under doors.
Jon was on the second floor, wandering down a corridor, torch in hand. Tim had sent him to explore the upper floors and find some, in his words, 'spooky happenings'. Jon chattered away to the camera strapped to his chest, commenting on the quality of the tapestries around the decidedly un-haunted room.
A small creak came from further down the corridor behind him. Jon span around.
"Hello? Georgie, was that you?
Silence.
"Georgie, this isn't funny. You promised to stop doing this."
The beam of light from Jon's torch wasn't bright enough to illuminate the corridor in its entirety.
"Ridiculous. It's just an old house, of course it makes noises." He muttered. His camera let out a pitiful beep and shut off. "Oh for goodness sake." Frustrated, he started pressing buttons, hoping that one of them would fix the problem.
Something grabbed his shoulder. He startled, stumbling forwards, shaking off the ice-cold contact.
"Who's there?" He demanded, shining his torch towards the empty space where he had just stood.
A hushed breath across his neck had him staggering in the opposite direction.
"What the fuck?" What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck????
A thousand possibilities danced across his thoughts. This was Georgie playing a prank. Tim playing a prank. Both of them teaming up to play a prank. Georgie had finally decided to outright start faking evidence for their show rather than let the fans interpret it from the videos and had forgotten or decided not to tell Jon for some inexplicable reason. He'd misinterpreted a small breeze and the sounds of the house settling as something much, much stranger.
"Who is there?" He demanded, waving his torch around frantically.
The corridor was empty, almost boringly so. After the initial burst of panic had passed, Jon was left in an almost silent room, hands shaking, feeling staggeringly ridiculous and almost grateful that his camera had glitched out and not captured his outburst.
"Oh very good, Sims. You're jumping at shadows now." He muttered to himself, fiddling with the buttons of the camera. "Wait till Georgie hears about this."
He turned, ready to head back down to the ground floor and forget about Moorland House and it's ridiculous drafts-
And stopped short, face to face with a man.
Jon sprang back, crying out.
The man shushed him, holding up his hands.
"Shh, be quiet, please don't panic, just be quiet."
"Wha- what? Where did you come from?"
Jon shined his torch over the mans form. He didn't cast a shadow on the wall behind him.
"Please." The man begged, reaching for him. "You need to leave, it's not safe here."
"Who are you?"
"He's coming, you need to go!"
"What?" Jon demanded. "Who, who is coming?"
"Do you always ask this many questions?" The man grumbled, grabbing at Jon's hand. The sudden contact startled Jon enough that the man was able to pull him through the doorway, hurrying them both down the corridor.
"Wha- where are we going?"
"Why don't you listen? You," He pointed at Jon with one semi-translucent finger. "Need to leave. You clearly cannot be trusted to do that on your own, so I am taking you to the front door, which you will go through and never come back. Understand?"
"What about you?"
"Out of luck there." The man dragged him through a door down a set of narrow stairs. "Can't leave when your unfinished business is restricted to this house."
"Unfinished- wait, you're messing with me." Jon stopped short a couple of steps above the man. "There's no way."
"There is a way. What do you want me to do, make a cold patch?" He tugged at Jon's hand, trying to get him to move again. "Flicker some lights? Write some ominous messages on the bathroom mirror? Please, we don't have time for you to reevaluate your world view."
"Ghosts aren't real."
"Boo."
"It's not possible."
Somewhere high above them, a door slammed.
"I assure you it is." The man pulled him down a few more steps until they were level. "Listen, I'd love to debate the theological implications of ghosts, but if you don't leave, you're going to be getting a first hand demonstration. Please, I promise it's not worth it."
Jon stared at him. The mans face was full of anxiety and his hand in Jon's was icy cold.
"Okay."
He let out a relieved noise and Jon let him pull him down the narrow staircase and out towards the entrance. They slowed as they reached a door.
"Okay, through there is the exit. Take your team and go."
"Wait!" Jon grabbed at his jacket. It slipped through his hands. "What's your name?"
The man huffed. "Martin. Now leave."
Martin wrenched the door open and shoved him through. Jon stumbled out into the foyer of the house, colliding with a warm shape.
"Oof ouch, alright there Jon?" Tim patted him on the shoulder.
"Tim!" Jon grabbed at him. "We need to leave."
"Woah, slow down buddy, what's up?"
"Just-" Jon grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the door. "Go."
"Jesus, okay, fine, let me get the camera."
"Everything alright?" Georgie called from where she was descending the stairs. She grinned. "What's gotten into you Jon, you look like you've seen a ghost?"
The grin vanished as she took in the expression on Jon's face.
"Jon, talk to us." Tim placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Please, I just want to leave."
"Did you see something?" Georgie seemed slightly too excited. A shadow moved in the corner of Jon's eye. He flinched, colliding with Tim again.
"Jon-"
"Please."
Tim stared down at him, bafflement written across his face. "Alright. Alright, we'll go."
"We don't have all the footage we need." Georgie started. Tim cut her off with a glare.
"We'll work around it. It's fine." Tim grabbed the tripod and lifted it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. "Come on. I'll text the caretaker and let him know we're heading out early."
Jon paced by the van as they loaded the equipment, staring up at the windows, searching for some movement, some sign that he wasn't loosing his mind.
"Jon." Tim called, holding open the door into the van.
Jon hurried over and climbed inside, sandwiching himself between Georgie and Tim. He fidgeted as Tim turned the key and the van tumbled to life. As Moorland House vanished in the rear view mirror, Jon snatched Tim's bag off the floor.
"Jon, what now?"
He wrenched the zip open, ignoring Tim's shouts of protest. Inside, he riffled around until he found Tim's notebook and a pen. Scrambling for a free page, he started scribbling, desperately trying to get down the image of the man.
Soft curls, a round friendly face, two shining, grey eyes. Jon stared down at the page. Martin stared back at him.
He tore out the page and stuffed it into his pocket, ignoring Georgie's worried looks.
"Drive."
High above them, Martin stood in one of the big old windows, watching the van trundle away down the long drive.
"What have I told you about interfering?"
Martin sighed. "You don't need more."
"I always need more, Martin. That's how this works."
"Well, maybe if you actually told me things instead of just being cryptic, then I could actually help."
A firm hand came down on his shoulder. "You don't want to help, Martin. You've made that very clear."
The van reached the end of the drive and turned a corner, vanishing from sight. Martin let out an unsteady breath.
"I'm sorry, Peter, but I can't let you do this to anyone else."
"Playing the hero? That's unlike you."
"Or maybe you just don't know me."
Peter smiled slowly. "Hmm. No, I think I know you very, very well."