Chapter Text
“Statement of Helen Richardson, Regarding…” You observed the woman before you, noting just how distressed she seemed and continuing in a softer tone. “Apologies, but are you okay? You’re… You’re really laying into that paper.” You then politely waited for her response. And waited. When it didn’t come, you cocked your head in concern, and attempted to regain her attention, unobtrusive as you could, tapping gently on the wood of the desk in front of her, and rolling your office chair across the carpet slightly so that you were more comfortably facing her.
She briefly glanced up, still thoroughly focused on the paper, murmuring something that you pretended to catch. You weren’t very good at pretending today, and so you spoke again.
“Are you alright, Miss Richardson? We can take this statement at a later date if you’d-“
“No, no, I need to tell someone. To show someone, look at this!”
She quieted to show you the map, and you could see in her eyes that she was trying desperately to keep composed. “There’s no right turns! None! I mean, look at this! Look at it!” She continued to babble and stammer, going on and on about how it didn’t make any sense, how it wasn’t a spiral because she could go straight, and all of that. You lightly, carefully took the paper from her hands, giving her a hopefully calming glance.
“It’s alright. It doesn’t need to make sense, our institute doesn’t study things that make sense.” You reassured her, and chose your next words even more tentatively. “This is behind you. You’re safe here, and we are- I am grateful that you are giving this statement.” You took a deep breath, silently hoping she would do the same. After all, she was no good to anyone panicking and trying to understand it all.
“I need it to make sense. For me. Look at this, it shouldn’t be that mess of lines, it shouldn’t- It doesn’t make sense! It shouldn’t have been there! It-“
“Ms. Richardson,” You cut her off, regretful that you felt the need to, but she was spiraling again. “I believe it would be very helpful, for both of us, if you could start from the beginning.”
She sighed quietly, and gave you a confused and lost remark, before finally beginning her statement.
“The institute will do some digging on your case to see what we can find. In the meantime, do you… Need a moment to sit down?” You knew that you shouldn’t offer such a thing, but your heart ached for her, and you continued “I can retrieve some tea if you’d like, warm drinks do tend to soothe the psyche.”
She looked at you for a long moment, clearly considering your offer and you could see that she was sniffling a little simply from recounting her experience. You averted your eyes toward one of your filing cabinets, unable to meet hers for too long. It didn’t get any easier taking these statements, witnessing their faces, hearing the breaks in their voices. You kept your composure. “I’m.. fine on the tea, but-“ She halted for a brief second, lost in her own mind.
“You believe me?” She finally asked, like she’d expected you to simply dismiss her as crazy and cast her away.
You did your best to focus on the present, rather than your inner agony at seeing someone like this. You were going to have to take a break after this one, maybe a day off. This poor woman truly was fresh off the proverbial chopping block. “I have… witnessed things, that make me less inclined to merely dismiss those who have experienced the paranormal.” You finally told her, returning your gaze and quieting, softening. “Yes, I do believe you.”
“You believe me, oh thank goodness, I…” She trailed off, but you guessed she was going to say something about how she probably sounded ridiculous. “I do have one follow-up question for you, if you’re okay with that.” You fidgeted with the pen in your hand as you spoke, spinning it but fumbling and almost dropping it in the process.
“Yes?”
“The man’s name, do you recall what it was?”
“It’s… I almost remember it, I know that he told me, I’m relatively sure at least…”
“Michael?”
“Yes! That was his name, He said he was Michael, and it didn’t fit him one bit, he didn’t look like a Michael. He didn’t look like an anything! Do you know him?”
“I am quite sure I do. I, along with my colleagues, will be sure to do plenty of research and get back to you when we can. Do you have an email by any chance?”
“I only have my work email, and I won’t be keeping that one.”
“Of course. In that case, can we contact you via phone, should we find anything?”
“Yes, that sounds perfect. Thank you.”
She gave you a last, rather appreciative smile, before carefully picking up her things and walking out. You took another deep breath as she left, then another, focused on controlling the cadence of your breathing. You listened to ensure that all was silent before you slumped against the desk, sniffling. You buried your head in your arms, just for a moment. You just needed to cry quietly for a moment, and then you would get back to work. Listening close, there was a strange static, but the institute was full of odd noises, the air conditioning (that you were all rather lucky to have) was an especially egregious offender during the warmer months.
You stayed like that for a bit, just staring at the desk, searching for the box of tissues that you usually stored on it to wipe your tears. Goodness, why hadn’t you offered any to Ms. Richardson? You internally scolded yourself as you looked around, taking a second to further come down from your rather unpleasant state. There was a hand, offering you one, which you took without thinking, and then you subsequently paused in abject terror, realizing that this was not correct to be happening. Nope. You were frozen for a full five seconds, hands just hovering there, mouth drawn to a tight line, but then an unfamiliar and unnatural voice began laughing from behind you, clearly finding this hilarious (you didn’t, how long had it been there?) and you flinched away to an embarrassing magnitude, whirling around in your chair to face the person who had… been here the whole time, during the statement? Or materialized?
Once your startled panic had faded, you were just bewildered. And mortified. But mostly bewildered. Your eyes were flitting between it’s. It didn’t look right. Did it have the right number of eyes? You counted, and sure enough there were two, but you felt so viscerally like that was the wrong answer. It was still laughing, finally beginning to taper off. Its laugh was uncanny, like the room it was reverberating off into was much larger than your office. This tipped you off immediately to who, or rather what, you were facing. It seemed to be waiting for you to speak, looking down rather smugly at your shaken up expression. You steeled yourself, and resented the tiny waver in your voice when your mouth finally opened.
“Michael?”
Your eyes followed it as it began to stroll casually around the room, replying a cryptic “That is a real name.”
You buried your face in your hands, dragging them across, unsure of how to react at this point, and you just ended up muttering an exasperated “What are you here for?”
“I was purely here for a chat, that’s all, I was unaware of your current..” It halted its walk “state.”
You started fidgeting with your pen again, repeating in your head the phrase ‘you will be diplomatic’, to drown out your other, more unhelpful thoughts, like questioning why you were even hired here in the first place, and if this was a bad sign.
“Apologies for… well, my shock I suppose, I’m just confused.” You didn’t know why you were apologizing. What was it playing at, anyway?
“You’re supposed to be confused. That is simply the only thing you can be. You are looking at this all through an incredibly narrow glass, after all.”
“Was that supposed to be… some sort of jab?”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?” You gave it an almost pleading look.
It laughed yet again, a shorter, quieter chuckle and then speaking once more. “I am giving you an explanation. There are powers far beyond your control at play here, powers that your fragile mind cannot fathom.”
“Thanks for confirming my suspicions, but, you say powers plural, like there is more than one.” It giggled at that as you continued speaking “How many are… there?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“A different inquiry, then?” You thought for a moment, and this time it allowed you to without laughing like there were jokes woven into the spaces between your words. “Why did you take Ms. Richardson?”
“I needed to eat.”
You gritted your teeth, not even horrified anymore. You almost certainly should've been, but right then, all you were was exhausted. You finally just ended up asking “Does that even count as cannibalism if you’re… you’re not human, but you appear human, but you…” You trailed off.
“Oh, I wasn’t going to eat her.” You gave it a Look.
“Not in the sense that you’re thinking of.” It went on.
“What?”
“I was not going to consume her flesh. Now, I get to ask a question of my own. Tell me, Archivist, why are you not unnerved?”
“What do you mean?” You were still thinking about the paradoxical ‘eating her without eating her.’ Was this thing fucking with you?
“Most would quite probably be at least a little unsettled simply by my presence, but you are a strange one. You are quite irritated, yes, and you were startled, but not unnerved.”
“Frankly, I’ve seen opossums that look worse than you and act better. Now, I should be warning you that you won’t be ‘eating’ Helen Richardson, as she is already gone.” You snapped. You regretted it almost instantly, but the thing before you seemed not to care. You were still boiling over. It was fucking with you!
“Gone indeed, but in what sense?” It asked rhetorically, and you were losing your patience with it fast, why was it really here?
“It’s things like you that make me want to set office hours, so I can point to a sign and kick anyone, or anything out.”
“Do you truly think that’s how this works?” Oh, that little remark had to be passive-aggressive.
“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. Now, are you really here for a chat, or are you going to try and ‘eat’ me as well?” And you petulantly added under your breath “If it’s eating people you’re trying to accomplish, then you’re not doing a very good job at it.”
The high-pitched static around you intensified slightly as it spoke. “I am being very forgiving right now, and I would highly suggest that you not overstep the incredibly thin line that you’re approaching.”
“Thin like your weird, awful rat fingers-- Augh!” You were cut off by your own sound of pain as it gave you a warning poke, relatively shallow all things considered, but it hurt. You winced, and muttered “Correction: knife fingers. Now, will you fry up whatever piece of me is stuck to your awful bulbous hand and leave the rest alone, or are we gonna have to take this outside?”
“Are you going to try and fight me?” It near cackled almost uproariously at that, and you suppressed the urge to smack it across the face.
“If you don’t get out, then yeah, I will. And I’ve got an advantage, too.” At this point you were just about shaking with irritation.
It tilted its head, leaning down condescendingly to meet your eyes, far too close for comfort. You refused to acknowledge the emotions this action elicited in you. You were still mad, and you were sticking firmly to mad.
“Bear mace. I keep a can on me at all times, so you better back the hell off.” You had no idea if bear mace could fend it off, but you knew damn well it'd hurt. At one point in the past, you’d tested it in the wrong area, and ended up getting some in your eyes. That was a bad day.
“You… think… you can… Oh my… you think you can…” It leaned back, full on cackling at this point, every phrase punctuated by more laughter. It should've been out of air by now.
“Listen here you off-brand Ken doll, you visibly have eyes, a nose, and a mouth, all centralized in one conveniently sprayable area, so I’d suggest you step back and give me some time to research, alright?”
“Go ahead. I cannot feel pain.” It sounded so very amused, like it was merely talking to a particularly rude cat.
And so you did, you stepped back, shielded your face, and spritzed it. It didn't blink (had it blinked at all?), nor did it make any move to protect itself. And you knew that if you sprayed more, it'd all just circulate through the air and come back to you. You shouldn’t really have been spraying this stuff indoors, anyways, but desperate (angry) times call for desperate (angry) measures. And it’d stabbed you! Only a little bit, but still, this was fair game.
“What do you want?” You unclenched your fists to gesture exasperatedly as you spoke, bear mace forgotten on your desk. To it’s credit, it didn’t use that against you, whether you noticed or not.
You were practically pulling out your hair now, and it was about to speak, but an idea dawned on you. You raised your voice, calling out: “Sasha, Martin, Tim, I need you lot in here now! I have a situation with an LSD trip on legs!”
Martin came running in first, and immediately looked concerned and absolutely befuddled as the other two rushed in. You pointed at Michael, rattling off a summary of what just happened and then asking them if they know how to get him to leave, and Martin spoke up: “There’s nobody behind you. Are you alright? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this mad.” And then he glanced over to your side, his concern magnifying. “Is… is that bear mace?” And then his gaze flitted to your shoulder, and his eyes widened by further orders of magnitude. “Um, I’m sorry, are you bleeding?”
The joke Tim was going to make about what would happen if Elias were to find out you had bear mace in the office died on his lips when he caught notice of that. You turned around, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you realized that Michael wasn’t there anymore, and neither was his telltale static. Martin and Tim were both still incredibly bewildered, but Sasha just looked mildly worried.
“It’s name is Michael. It has big hands, and an awful laugh that rings in your ears? Looks like the world’s most insufferable magic mushroom if you stare at it for too long?”
Sasha piped up. “The Michael from my statement?” You nodded in concurrence, too exhausted for words as you sat down.
You knew you had to speak again, if only to tell them you weren’t coming in the next day. “I think I need time. To rest. I’ll see you all the day after tomorrow, okay?” Sasha just nodded and left, but Martin and Tim were both quite distressed by these developments in their own ways. They exchanged a glance that spoke far more than words could for the both of them, and then Martin sat down across from you, and Tim took his side.
Better now than never for a safety intervention. Truthfully, they both had been discussing it for a little while, given how a lot of the things that came after you all seemed to target you the most. After a long moment of awkward silence, Tim was the first to speak up. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I don’t like the idea of it.” He said hesitantly, and it was the first time since the attack that you’d heard anything but his confident and sociable public persona.
Martin added on, if timidly. “He left because we were all here, right? I can’t be the only one thinking that. Sorry, I… know that this is all very sudden, but we’ve all been talking, and…” He trailed off, wincing.
“At least until you rebound from Prentiss and this ‘Michael’ bugger lays off, Martin was going to suggest you bunk with us in here.” Tim continued. “We really just think it would be safer.”
”Tim’s going to as well, if… well, if it helps.” Martin was so, so very tense, almost turtling into his sweater, and you could see that Tim was as well even if he was hiding it better. They both didn’t know how you’d react.
You paused for a long while, which they patiently waited through, Martin nervously fidgeting through the whole thing, before you agreed. Tentatively. There was an audible sigh of relief from both of them, and Martin nodded, smiling if only a little.
And so, you began bunking with Tim and Martin in the institute. It was stressful at first, with the limited space and creepy goings on, but you quickly found yourself adjusting rather nicely. Martin often made tea in the mornings, which was a lovely bonus for you, and cots weren’t so bad once you’d gotten used to them. Sometimes, you even watched movies, all three of you. Tim tended to be a talker during those, but it did feel better in the end, safety in numbers and all, even if him and Martin had kind of sprung it on you.