One Slips Through The Cracks
Summary: What if, instead of the tapes, only one statement managed to slip through into a new universe. Perhaps, specifically, Jonah’s statement from 160. And, perhaps, it manages to fall into Martin’s hands. Cue Martin dismissing it as a weird joke, until he gets hired on as an archival assistant. And things start getting... familiar
OG idea from this post: x
Martin barely notices it at first. An innocuous file, sticking out of his case, scuffed with the permanent marker he took to it in an attempt to hide its second-hand nature. Could have been in there for weeks, really. He sighs, wondering if Hana is playing another prank on him. He pulls it out and- god, are those spiderwebs? Maybe not Hana, then. He flips it open, noting the high quality paper.
Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home.
How did he end up with a statement from the archives tucked away in his things? No way it was Gertrude. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw the Head Archivist, and had only heard rumors of assistants in that basement. Maybe someone from the library borrowed it, and it somehow ended up in his bag? Well, no way he’s headed back to the institute at this hour. It’ll have to wait until morning.
He’s just about to close the folder when he spots something curious. The first page seems… short. Are the rest of the pages research notes? Can’t hurt to read it, right?
Hello, John.
Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.
I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.
Now, shall we turn the page and try again?
This doesn’t seem to be the statement. Is someone using the archives to pass notes? Why would they do that? The spark of curiosity grows into a raging fire. Martin doesn’t consider himself much of a gossip, but this is just too weird to pass up. He does work for a paranormal research institute, right? It’s only healthy.
…
IS SOMONE WRITING FUCKING FANFICTION ABOUT HIS WORKPLACE?! Gertrude Robinson, Jonah Magnus (probably), and him. Martin. Also some guy named Jon? And what’s all this about dread powers and marking? And Jane Prentiss? Peter Lukas?
This was honestly just too weird. He was absolutely going to HR with this, what the actual fuck. It’s certainly… inspired. Evil gods (?) and the end of the world? He would be a bit flattered that someone liked him enough to include him in their institute fanfic, but sliding it into his bag was crossing a line.
And who were the other people included in it? Sasha… could that be Sasha James? From research? Whenever she dropped off a late book, she always included a biscuit or two. She was nice. Helen sounded like she wasn’t working for the Institute, maybe. Melanie, Detective Tonner… and Jon. The man meant to ‘keep an eye on him’. The next Archivist? Gertrude wasn’t that old yet.And the statement was from 1992, so there’s honestly no way-
No, Martin, stop thinking about it. It’s someone’s weird fanfic that they decided to give you. Wait, was it Hana? This seems too extreme for her but…
Tomorrow. It’s a problem for tomorrow’s Martin. For now, he’s going to get Mum to bed and then spend the rest of the night relaxing. Maybe watch some shitty telly.
The next morning, he trudges up the stairs to the dusty office. After a brief description, he’s shuffled off to a small room where a sour faced woman introduces herself as Diane. She clacks away at an ancient computer, barely acknowledging him. Martin settles uncomfortably into the rickety old chair, and begins to describe the strange situation he’s found himself in. Diane types away without responding. He wraps up the strange tale and sits in silence as she slowly finishes typing away.
“And you have the text with you?” Diane looked over her glasses at him, a bored expression on her face.
“Y-yeah, uh, here!” Martin dids into his bag, pulling out the folder containing the offending document. He passes it over to her, hands shaking. Why was he so nervous? She flips it open, and then glares back at him.
“Where is it?” she drawls.
“What? It’s right there, in the folder!” Martin stands and looks over her desk. Sure enough, the folder is empty. “It, it was…”
Diane flips the folder closed and shoves it back at him. “We are busy. Please come back when you have actual evidence.”
Martin’s too stunned to apologize as he shuffles out of the office. Did it somehow slip out of the folder? It had to, there’s no way it just disappeared like that. Unless there’s some kind of malevolent force that decided to mess with him for fun. But if it was targeting him, why so much focus on Jon?
He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Nothing he can do about it now. Time to go to work. He walks down to the library, and groans. Someone is pacing back and forth in front of the empty desk, looking irate. He almost considers turning back and facing Diane’s wrath. Instead, he heads towards the desk.
“Beth’s not at the desk?” Martin calls out to the man. He stops in his tracks, and whips around, glaring.
“Obviously not. And I don’t expect anyone soon, as it’s been five minutes.” He glares at Martin.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I had an issue to take care of, and I thought she could handle it.” Martin placates him, slipping behind the desk. He feels bad about shoving the blame off on her, but he really doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. “What can I help you with?”
The man looks a bit surprised, but quickly settles back into his surly state. “I requested a book nearly two weeks ago, but still haven’t received it. It’s Paranormal Specters of Eastern Europe, Volume 3. Allen Jackson.”
Martin searches their catalogue as fast as he can, scanning entries. The man taps his fingers on the desk, glaring. What a winning personality.
“Ah, looks like we just got it in last night! I would have sent you an email today, but it looks like I don’t need to anymore. Give me a second to pop back and grab it for you.”
“Finally.” the man grumbles. Martin almost runs to the back, ready to get this man out of the library. It takes a minute to dig through the shelf, as it had been scanned in but not sorted yet.
“Alright, got that for you! All I need now is your card.” Martin says as he emerges from the back. The man slams his card on the desk and looks off. Martin gently picks up the card, scans it in, and then scans the book.
“And that’ll be due back in 30 days!” He slides the card and book across the desk back to him. “Oh, it looks like you have a book due tomorrow. Would you like to renew-” He looks up from the screen to see the man already walking away.
“What a prick.” he whispers to himself. He’s about to exit the account when he spots the name.
Jonathan Sims.
A shiver runs down his spine as he glances to the empty doorway. Just a coincidence. Nothing more. He takes another deep breath and sets his bag on the desk, which immediately falls and spills its contents everywhere.It’s official. This day was awful. Just for a laugh, he opens up the file that started it all. Of course, that horrible fanfic is there in full.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
