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ollieofthebeholder · 10 months

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 30: September 2016

“…seventeen stitches, and they were keeping him a couple days to watch for infection,” Martin concluded, twisting around to see the other occupants of the car. “He’s supposed to be getting discharged this morning, though, so he’ll likely be back in the office on Wednesday.”

Sasha snorted. “Not tomorrow?”

“He has to get another note from his doctor first, I’m sure.”

Tim had insisted on giving Martin a ride in to work that morning, and Martin had acquiesced, partly because the transit route between the bookshop and the Institute was bloody inconvenient and partly because it meant they could talk, however briefly, before going in. (It also meant he got to see the look on Tim’s face when Gerry walked into the kitchen half-asleep and wearing nothing but his underpants, and the look on Gerry’s face when he realized that Tim, whom Martin had not informed him was coming over, was ogling him.) They had stopped to pick Sasha up from the coffee shop she usually popped into, having seen no reason to change her routine just because she’d met an eldritch abomination there once, and Martin had spent the last few minutes telling her about Melanie’s phone call from Friday night.

“Did he call Elias?” Tim asked, his mouth twisting into a sneer as he said the man’s name that Martin had only rarely seen. “Or are you going to have to do that?”

Martin shrugged. “I talked to Melanie, not Jon, but I don’t doubt for a minute that either Jon called Elias or Elias already knows.”

Sasha sighed. “I am not looking forward to working for someone who can just…pry into all my secrets at any time. Even if he hasn’t done it already.”

“Says the person who’s hacked every employment record at the Institute.” Tim pulled into a parking space and threw the car into park with an unnecessarily hard jerk of the gearshift.

For just a second, Martin saw the hurt in Sasha’s eyes, but she covered it up quickly. He thought about letting it slide, then decided, on the balance, no. “Hey, Tim, not cool, okay? Just because she looked at mine and Jon’s doesn’t mean she looked at yours too. Or anyone else’s.”

“How did you know I’d looked at Jon’s?” Sasha blurted, obviously startled.

“You called him out for lying about his age on his birthday last year. I figured you’d either read his file and seen his actual birth date or stolen his wallet at some point.” Martin unfastened the safety belt, then reached for his bag. “As for Elias, I have something for that.”

“Is it a projectile or something pointy?” Tim asked.

That Martin chose to ignore; Tim was clearly in a mood. Instead, he pulled two small objects out of his bag and held them out to Tim and Sasha, balanced on the palm of his hand. “Voila. That’s French for ‘ta-da.’”

It did, at least, make Tim crack a smile, and Sasha give that giggle-snort laugh of hers she only made when you truly surprised amusement out of her. She plucked one of them from Martin’s hand and turned it over a couple of times. “What is it?”

“I think it’s technically called an apotropaia, but that’s a pain in the ass to spell, so ‘talisman’ works.” Martin handed the other one to Tim. They were simple, small bits of leather sewn together in a tiny envelope about the size of a matchbook. Martin had spent several evenings patiently tracing the lines Gerry had kindly drawn for him with needle and thread while repeating the same poem over and over, and they were honestly as good as they were going to get. “Basically it’s a protective charm. It’s not…great, and it won’t work if you’re in the same room as him or if he tries really, really hard to get into your head, but it’ll at least keep you safe from…casual browsing, I guess. He’ll have to really try to see what you’re thinking.”

“Do you have one?”

“I’ve got something a bit more permanent.” Martin chose not to mention that it hadn’t been something he’d voluntarily put on himself. “And I know how to…guard my mind, sort of. We’ll help you guys with that, too, but this is a sort of stopgap measure.”

Tim rubbed the leather between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there somewhere special we should put it?”

Martin shook his head. “Nowhere special, just somewhere you won’t lose it. Melanie used to keep hers on a chain around her neck. I’d pin mine to the inside of my shirt.”

Sasha tucked hers into the inner pocket of her jacket. “Remind me not to take this off today…I assume it won’t work if we deliberately provoke him. Or, well—it’s not specifically anti-Elias, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…think of it as mosquito repellent. It creates a layer of protection that keeps things from knowing you’re there if they don’t already know you’re there, but if you stick your hand in a mess of them chances are one’s going to bite you.”

Tim tucked the one Martin had given him into his wallet, which he then returned to his back pocket. Martin figured it was better than nothing. “Right. In we go, then.”

The Archives didn’t look any different than they had before Jane Prentiss had attacked, really. The shelves still bristled with files in all sorts of disarray, a few neat folders still sat on the assistants’ desks, and the bulletin board still hung slightly crooked. The only real difference Martin could spot was that the window in the door leading to the document storage room had been scrubbed sparkling clean.

“Took Tim the better part of a day,” Sasha said, following Martin’s gaze. “The cleaning crew Elias hired did a decent enough job in here, once the repairs were done, but we gave it an extra scrub-down the first day we were back, just to be sure.”

“Thanks, Sash.” Martin unslung his bag and began setting up for the morning.

He was surprised at how easily he was able to slip back into the routine after the time he’d spent away—logging into his laptop, asking Sasha about her weekend, glancing at the files on his desk to see what he needed to prepare for. The only change from usual was that Tim took his mug out of his hands and went to make tea for all of them without a word.

Sasha watched him go. “I don’t think he’s handling this well.”

“He found a dead body in a hidden tunnel underneath his workplace, spent two hours getting grilled by the police over it, and then had to go back to work like nothing happened,” Martin pointed out. “That would be a lot for anyone to handle. Has he talked to you about it?”

“N-no. No, he hasn’t.” Sasha hesitated, then dropped her voice. “Has he…told you about Danny?”

Martin shook his head. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, and something in his mind itched, which made him hold up a hand. “Don’t tell me, please. Don’t…”

Sasha’s eyes widened in understanding. “No, I won’t. Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” She swallowed. “I just—I think maybe that’s all coming up, too.”

“If he won’t talk to you about it—” Martin bit off the rest of the sentence. Instinct told him that bringing up Gerry anywhere in the Institute—cluing Elias in that he was still alive, or alive again, or whatever Gerry’s status was—would be a very bad idea. “I’d ask, but I don’t know how much that would…help.”

“I…oh.” Sasha winced. “I’ll…try talking to him later this week. I wasn’t pushing, honestly.”

“I think right about now, Tim needs a little push.”

Tim came back in with their mugs of tea just as the clock in the corner of Martin’s computer flipped over to 8:00. In the same instant, the phone on Tim’s desk rang. He took the time to set the mugs on everyone’s desks before picking it up on the seventh ring. “Archives, Stoker speaking.” He listened for a moment, face impassive, then simply said, “Right,” before hanging up.

Martin didn’t need any kind of special powers to guess who had been on the other end. “Elias?”

“Yup.” Tim drew out the Y and popped the P like someone launching a rubber band off the end of his thumb. “Wants to see us in his office, immediately.”

Sasha sighed and took a deep swig of her coffee. “I knew I should’ve ordered a double. Let’s get this over with.”

Rosie was in her usual place, typing away on her computer. She’d dyed her hair again in the last few weeks, from a brassy gold to a vibrant merlot, and there were silver ribbons woven through the braids wrapped around the crown of her head. She looked up and offered Martin a warm smile and a cheery greeting, which he returned more than half mechanically before following Tim and Sasha into Elias’ office.

Elias was waiting for them, his hands folded on his desk and a pleasant smile plastered on his face. He, too, looked exactly the same as the last time Martin had seen him, except for the new and startling addition of a cloth patch, held on with a ribbon, covering his left eye. What was startling about it was less its presence than the fact that it was made of silk, and matched his tie.

“Ah. Martin. Welcome back.” Elias gestured to the three chairs in front of him. “Please, have a seat, all of you.” He waited for them to comply, then continued, “I appreciate you coming up first thing, but I feel the sooner we have this…discussion, the better. I’m sure Martin has already let you know that Jon will be out an extra day or two.”

“He mentioned it,” Sasha said with a glance at Martin. “Something about a stab wound?”

Martin nodded, and then suddenly decided to test the waters a little. “He told me what he told the paramedics—that he’d been surprised by a bum while out for a walk.”

Elias’ single uncovered eye gazed at Martin intently, but there was no little press of static—he wasn’t even trying to slip through Martin’s defenses. “And do you believe him?”

“I believe that that’s what he told the paramedics.” Martin stared Elias down like he had nothing to lose. If he wanted things out in the open, he was going to have to bring them out.

The standoff probably lasted no more than a second or two, but it felt like hours before Elias smiled slightly. The smile wasn’t condescending or patronizing or cruelly triumphant; Martin would have preferred any of those. Instead it was sly, almost conspiratorial—a smile that said we’re in on this together, you and I. It made Martin feel even dirtier than the phone call on Friday had.

“I think we understand each other,” Elias said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Whatever Jon ran into that caused his injury, it has a supernatural explanation. And for whatever reason, Jon wishes to keep that information from you.”

Tim started angrily, but Martin shook his head. “No, he’s right, Tim. Jon—you know how he gets. He, he probably thinks if he doesn’t tell us what he’s doing or what he’s looking into, it’ll keep us safe.” He paused, then added slowly, “And…you know, we did just find out Gertrude Robinson was murdered, and not by supernatural means. Jon’s probably worried he’ll be next.”

Sasha’s eyes widened a touch dramatically. “You don’t think he thinks one of us did it, do you?”

“I don’t think so.” Martin let a bit of uncertainty into his voice. “But I think he’s playing his cards close to his chest for now.”

“We’re not letting him get away with that,” Tim growled.

“Of course not,” Elias said. “However…I think it best, for now anyway, if Jon considers Jane Prentiss and…whatever he encountered in Sheffield…to be isolated incidents. Genuine supernatural encounters, by all means, but not connected.”

“But you think they are?” Sasha looked back and forth from Elias to Martin.

“They are,” Martin said, quietly but firmly. “ Remember I told you there was more going on than just a worm infestation? It’s…there’s a lot more out there than you know. And a lot of it is connected. Worse, it’s going to be after the Archivist.”

Elias nodded. “Martin can fill you in on whatever details you wish later—although I strongly suggest you not discuss them in front of Jon. However, I feel it is important that you know, at the very least, the broad strokes of the matter.”

Martin held his tongue through the ensuing explanation. Tim and Sasha played their parts beautifully, asking leading questions to get Elias to confess to more than he’d planned on while concealing how much they knew. Elias was surprisingly honest, although Martin knew exactly how much he was holding back. He also could see all the tiny, tempting little threads he was leaving hanging—threads that Sasha, at the very least, would absolutely start pulling on if he hadn’t already given her a baseline of knowledge.

At last, Elias turned to Martin. “As I said, Martin, you can fill in whatever details about this…situation you feel are necessary later, but remember that too much knowledge can be just as dangerous as too little. And I strongly advise you not to mention any of this to Jon until you’re certain he’s strong enough to handle it.”

The hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood on end. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Martin. Surely you realize that Jon is developing…abilities. And the closer he draws to…our master, the more powerful those abilities will become. But if you tell him too quickly, we both know he will push himself beyond his limits before he’s ready. And that could easily destroy him.”

Martin swallowed the bile that rose into his throat at the words our master, and he also swallowed the urge to protest that Jon would be safer if he knew what he was doing. Elias wasn’t entirely wrong, and anyway, the less he thought Jon knew, the better. “F-fine. Fine. But…you know Jon. He’s going to push himself anyway. I can’t—we can’t just leave him to his own devices. Paranoid or not, we’ll need to keep close to him.”

“Of course,” Elias agreed easily—too easily, Martin thought. He wondered if Elias was encouraging them to hover in hopes it would drive Jon’s paranoia up, make him suspicious that they were watching him too much. “In fact…here.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a key—a large, solid, old-fashioned key, black cast iron with surprisingly little rust on its body. He placed it on the desk. “This is the key to the trapdoor leading to the tunnels. I have no doubt that if left to his own devices, Jon would have stolen this and begun exploring them on his own—in fact, I’m not certain he hasn’t already.” He paused, but as Martin did not refute him, he went on. “I suggest one of you gives it to him, perhaps offers to accompany him in his…explorations. Whether he takes you up on it or not, at least you’ll know he’s down there, and you can keep an…eye on him.”

The three assistants looked at one another. Finally, Martin picked up the key, which felt surprisingly cold, and slipped it into his pocket. Elias beamed. “Good! Now, if there are no other questions…”

“Just one.” Something in Tim’s voice made Martin tense, and he looked over to see his friend leaning forward, scowling. “What would you say if I said I quit right now?”

“Tim,” Sasha gasped, the color draining from her face.

Elias didn’t bat an eyelash, or if he did, it was one hidden by the eyepatch. “You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“Tim, I am being very literal. You cannot quit. You are bound to the Institute now, body and soul. The longer you’re away from it, the weaker you will become. I’m afraid an appointment to the Archives is one for life.” Elias rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting in ten minutes. If you have any concerns that need my attention, please send a memo to Rosie and I will be down as soon as possible.”

It was as clear a dismissal as could be, and Martin gently hooked a hand under Tim’s elbow and steered him to the door.

“It’s good to have you back, Martin,” Rosie called, her eyes twinkling merrily as they passed her desk. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“How long has she had a crush on you?” Sasha whispered.

“Shut up.” Tim was being way too calm and docile and Martin was incredibly worried.

He was right to be. The second they were back in the Archives, Tim whirled on him. “Is he right?”

“Tim,” Sasha began.

“No, don’t.” Tim’s eyes almost burned holes in Martin’s. “Is he right? We’re trapped here?”

Martin hesitated. “He’s not as right as he thinks he is.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s—it’s not the Institute. It’s, well, it’s kind of the Eye, but—it’s like I told Jon the day of the attack. Upstairs, we could have walked away no harm done, but once we came down to the Archives…” Martin took a deep breath and decided to take a chance that Elias really did have a meeting and would be focusing on that rather than the three of them. “When I saw your Marks? The ones for the Eye were…they were like chains almost. And I couldn’t tell you where the lock was, if it was anywhere. So yeah, I think at this point we’re tied to the Archives themselves. O-or maybe it’s the Archivist. I dunno, Gertrude outlived all her assistants, so it’s not like there’s anyone around we could ask.”

Tim stared at Martin for a long moment. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the shelves. Martin exhaled heavily and sat down.

“He’ll be fine.” Sasha took her seat as well and downed a large swallow of her probably now cold coffee. “He’s not mad at you, Martin, you know that.”

“I know,” Martin said softly. “Still. I should have told you all sooner.”

“You did try. Like you said, you told Jon during the attack that you didn’t think any of us could walk away now. Not your fault we didn’t press you further on that.” Sasha opened her laptop. “I’ll take him to lunch later and try to get his head out of his ass. Meanwhile, let’s forge ourselves another yard of chain, shall we, Marley?”

Martin smiled slightly at the reference, and got to work.

Tim appeared calmer when he finally emerged from the stacks, but his eyes were slightly reddened and Martin didn’t bring it up. The three of them worked mostly in silence, almost like they’d done before, for the rest of the morning. Finally, lunchtime rolled around and Sasha convinced Tim to come with her.

“You’ll be okay alone, Marto?” Tim asked, sounding surprisingly reluctant as he got up.

Martin gave him a warm smile and a nod. “I’m fine. Brought lunch from home even, so you two take as long as you want. I can work through my lunch if I need to.”

Sasha winked at him before they headed out. Martin watched them go and then turned back to the files he was studying, hoping Tim came back in a better mood. Or at all. It would be just like him to decide to spontaneously take the afternoon off to test Elias’ assertion, or take the rest of the week off and go out of the country.

He was just considering taking five minutes to run to the break room for his sandwich when he heard a voice that, all things considered, he would rather not have heard. “Mr. Blackwood?”

Martin’s hand tightened around his pen, just for a second, before he looked up. He relaxed and hoped his relief didn’t show on his face when he saw that it was the police constable who’d come to get his and Jon’s statements after the attack, but not the detective who’d come with her at the time. “Oh—uh—Officer Hussein, right?”

“Call me Basira. I’m off-duty at the moment.” The officer, who was in plainclothes, looked around. “Where is everybody?”

“Um, Tim and Sasha are at lunch. Jon’s not back yet.”

Basira gave Martin a piercing look. He tried not to squirm. She might not have been like the detective, so tightly bound to the Hunt that Martin didn’t need his eyes to sense it, but she was still a cop and the plain fact of the matter was that most cops were at least Hunt-adjacent if they lasted in the job very long. “Thought Sims was supposed to be back today. That’s what Bouchard said.”

“He was, but he got himself stabbed by a bum over the weekend, so he’ll be out another day or two.” Martin thought about closing his laptop but decided that might make him look guilty. “Um, is there…anything I can help you with?”

Basira studied him. “I guess. You guys do…statements and stuff, right? Let people talk about stuff they’ve run into?”

Martin tensed as the faint prickle of static began building behind his eyes. He tried to sound normal. “Yeah, that’s…pretty much what we do. Is that what you want to do? Make a statement?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Basira tilted her head slightly. “Can you take it, or do I have to wait for Sims?”

“No, we can all take statements, it’s part of the job.” Martin did close his laptop this time and reached for the tape recorder he’d left sitting there, intending to transcribe Gerry’s statement at some point. “Um, tell you what, let’s—let’s go into the back here. It’s a little quieter, just in case someone comes down.”

“That happen often?”

“Some? Mostly it’s students doing research. Bit early in the term for that, though. And sometimes someone from Research will pop down to drop something off.” Martin stood and led Basira towards Document Storage. “Do you have a particular incident in mind you wanted to make your statement about?”

Basira shrugged. “Just kind of want to get it out in general. Mostly all happened since I got Sectioned.”

“Sectioned?”

“Section Thirty-One. That’s what we call it, being Sectioned. It’s…we get these, kind of weird cases? Stuff like you investigate here, only…criminal, not just spooky. There are only a few officers who handle them, and we have to sign that we won’t talk about it with people who don’t. Everybody knows the officers who work those cases, though.”

Martin had to admit, if only to himself, that he was intrigued.

Basira took the seat he directed her to and refused his offer of a cup of tea, then stared at the tape recorder when he switched it on, suddenly looking uncertain. “I really shouldn’t be talking about it on tape.”

“You came to us," Martin pointed out.

“Yeah, just…need to talk about it with someone, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Basira stared at him intently. “I’m breaking the law by talking to you. You understand that?”

Martin nodded slowly. He almost said it wouldn’t be the first time he’d aided and abetted a crime, but he bit that back quickly—off-duty or not, she was still very much a cop, and one who’d dealt with some of the same bullshit the Magnus Institute investigated on an academic basis. Instead he said, “I think so. Some kind of non-disclosure agreement, right?”

“Pretty much.” Basira hesitated. “Do you need my real name?”

“No, we’ve had people give fake names before, or even make anonymous statements,” Martin assured her. “But from what you said, I kind of feel like it wouldn’t do a lot of good, you know? It’s not going to be too hard for people who know the situation to figure out it’s you who told us.” He hesitated. “Look, we take statements from people in your position all the time—you know, people who are talking about stuff they’ve signed agreements not to talk about. I can mark this ‘for internal use only’, and that means that it falls under our NDA, which is like crazy strict, like makes MI-6 look like an open book strict. Nobody outside the Institute is allowed to requisition it.”

Basira raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. “That’s the best you can do?”

“If you want this to be a formal statement, yeah, that’s the best I can do.” Martin leaned back in his seat and matched her posture. “If you’re that worried about your voice being recognized, I can get you one of our statement forms and you can write it out. One of us will make an audio copy later.”

“I’m not really big on writing. I’m more of a talker.” Basira relaxed, almost unconsciously.

Martin forced himself not to smirk, but inside, he was doing a triumphant dance. He’d never quite had Gerry’s charisma—or Tim’s, although there were professional courtesans without Tim’s charisma—so it was always a point of pride with him when he was able to win someone over. “Weird choice of job, then. Isn’t being a cop like eighty percent paperwork?”

“Not so much. Not since I became Section Thirty-One.”

“I suppose that’s a good place to start.” Martin straightened up and adopted a professional tone. “Statement of Police Constable Basira Hussein regarding her time investigating…strange occurrences as part of Section Thirty-One. Statement taken direct from subject, nineteenth September 2016.” He nodded to her. “Statement begins.”

The familiar static settled against Martin’s skin as Basira began to talk. Her experiences were fairly mundane, as encounters with the Fourteen went, although Martin’s ears pricked up at the mention of the little red leather book found with her first case that had got her Sectioned—at last they had a name to put with that unpleasant fellow Gerry had had to kill in the end. He tried not to flinch when she mentioned Detective Tonner, but it made sense that she’d been Sectioned years before Basira had even joined the force if she was that ingrained in the Hunt. He also wasn’t particularly surprised that she only had two official examples; like she said, these things didn’t leave a lot of evidence. It was why it had always been so hard to prove things to Jon.

“So why is Gertrude’s body considered a para—a weird case?” Martin asked. “Or is it?”

“I mean, we’re investigating it as a murder because that’s what it is, but you guys are basically an automatic Section Thirty-One, so I’ve got almost no help on it,” Basira told him. “Maybe that’s why I wanted to make a statement, you know? I can’t talk to anybody about this stuff, and then I come here, and you’ve got all this…all these people’s experiences listened to and filed away. It’s…I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to come in ever since that callout.”

Martin made sympathetic noises. “So it’s just you and—Detective Tonner?”

“Yeah, but she’s CID. Which I suppose means it’s technically her problem, but she’s also the only detective who’s already sanctioned now, so she’s always busy. I tried making the argument that the murder didn’t seem to connect to any of your ‘paranormal business,’ at least not directly, but nope. I’ve got a shot corpse, three boxes of cassette tapes, and Daisy.”

“Cassette tapes?” Martin repeated. It was the first time he’d heard anything about that. “Like…like statement cassette tapes?”

Basira shrugged. “Maybe. They’ve all got weird labels on them I can’t make heads or tails out of. As far as I know, neither one of us has had time to listen to any of them.”

“Where did you find them? Up here?”

“No, with the body. She was just surrounded by them.”

“Huh.” Martin hadn’t realized Gertrude was recording the statements, but it made sense, he realized. The recorders wouldn’t have been there if she hadn’t been using them.

He leaned over and shut off the recording, since the actual statement was done. “Wonder what she was doing with them down there. O-or do you think—the person who killed her put them with her?”

“Dunno. Answers might be on those tapes.” Basira cocked her head at him thoughtfully. “You really think they might be statements?”

“I-I mean, I never really met her, but she didn’t seem like the type to have a bunch of punk rock tapes or anything.” Martin shrugged. “And you said they had weird labels…they’re probably statements. Jon called her filing system ‘pointlessly awkward’ and he’s not altogether wrong.”

Basira hesitated, glancing at the recorder, but she seemed satisfied it was off and leaned in a bit. “Listen…what if I try to bring you some?”

Martin paused. “What?”

“I mean, I can’t—it’s not like I’m going to be able to bring you a lot of them at once. Probably just one at a time, when I can smuggle them out—they’re technically evidence, you know? But if I bring them to you, you might be able to figure out better than I can why she had them. If they were just random tapes she was hoarding or if she had a purpose for having those specific tapes with her.” Basira gestured to Martin. “You know her system and all that. You can probably figure out if these were the only copies or if the written statements are still on the shelves, and that’s a start, at least. No one but you and me has to know I’m giving them to you.”

There was a catch in this—there had to be. No police officer would willingly just hand over evidence to someone, even if her logic was sound. Then again, she wasn’t as tightly bound in the Hunt as her partner, so maybe she just wasn’t all that loyal to the police either. Whatever the case, Martin had to admit that he was curious about those tapes. If Gertrude had taken them with her, and for a purpose…maybe they would help them to figure out how to stop the Unknowing. Maybe there was a clue in there somewhere.

“All right,” he said. “I won’t say anything to my coworkers about it.” A lie. He was definitely going to tell them. “And if I come up with anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

Basira nodded. “Great. I’ll get you the first one as soon as I can.” She stood up. “Now. How the hell do I get out of this place?”

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #basira hussein #stabbing mention #stitches mention #police tw #misuse of Beholding powers (implied)#mention of the Hunt

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summer-azure · 1 year

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They're in love with eachother.

(Set somewhere after episode 132)

#the magnus archives #alice tonner #daisy tonner #basira hussein #drawing blorbos from my podcast.

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missfandom1818 · 2 years

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This fanart is something I made of @franzis-frantic-thoughts fantastic fanfiction on Ao3, Black Magic and White Flour! It is amazing and if you like The Magnus Archives, I would definitely recommend this fic.

#the magnus archives #TMA Oliver Banks #TMA Basira Hussein #TMA Daisy Tonner #TMA Gerry Keay #TMA Jon Sims #TMA Sasha James #TMA Jonah Magnus #TMA Elias Bouchard #TMA Michael Shelly #TMA Tim Stoker #TMA Danny Stoker #TMA Nikola Orsinov #TMA Jude Perry

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fucked-up-character-tournament · 3 months

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Alice Tonner and Basira Hussai : - ACAB allegory but also toxic doomed yuri - Codependency through the roof - “Yes I know she’s a literal monster and an embodiment of the primal fear of being hunted by a predator, *and* I’d be a total hypocrite for excusing her bad behavior, but have you considered: I love her?” -Bassira Hussein, probably - They’re so unhealthy for each other and it takes the literal apocalypse for one of them to realize it

Laserhawk and Rayman: None submitted

#polls #most fucked up ship tournament #most fucked up ships #the magnus archives #captain laserhawk

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dancingacrossthemilkyway · 9 months

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i have no idea what kind of drabble prompts you prefer tbh but here: jmart but in space. like sci-fi, maybe star trek-y

“Ow!” Jon flinches as a thick gel is applied to his reddened arm, freshly scraped free of the spores that had attempted to embed themselves in his skin. The gel itself feels relatively good against his skin, a soothing cool against uncomfortable heat, but the gloved hand rubbing it on is anything but gentle. “Are you trying to cause me more pain, Dr. Blackwood?”

The doctor in question grunts from behind the full-body suit he’s wearing as he treats Jon, but Jon doesn’t need to see his face to picture the severe expression residing there. Pinched brows, wrinkled nose, pursed lips: the trademark disapproving scowl Martin likes to fix Jon with whenever he comes back from an explorative mission that has gone somewhat sideways.

It’s probably far more displeased than normal, considering the personal protectice equipment he’s donned and the fact that every member of the on-world team has been quarantined in their own separate rooms until Martin’s convinced they’re safe to be around.

“Will it keep you from doing something like this again?” Yeah, Martin’s definitely grumpy. His voice is pitched slightly higher than usual and filled with a mixture of sassy irritation that he only gets when particularly peeved with whatever stupid decision Jon’s made. “Christ, I thought having Sasha as your second-in-command would make you less likely to get into trouble, but she’s as bloody impulsive as you!”

Sasha was promoted recently from Communications Officer when Manuela had finally had enough of Jon’s brand of spontaneous decision making and requested a transfer to a different ship. It wasn’t necessarily much of a surprise that they didn’t get on, even without Jon being the way he is; disciples of the Dark rarely worked well in close quarters with those of the Eye. It was one of the risks of having a crew contain an officer from each of the Fears: there were always going to be inherent disagreements that weren’t easily resolved due to a difference in beliefs.

Jon hasn’t had much contact with Manuela’s replacement, Basira Hussein, but this mission proved that she can definitely hold her own. It shouldn’t be a surprise, given her high recommendation from Daisy.

Slowly they’re settling into a team Jon thinks he likes. Even if he doesn’t get along with all of them on a personal level, they’re good members of the crew and they work well with each other. That’s what matters - that’s what he remembers being emphasized at the academy.

“Yes, well,” Jon replies, giving Martin a blank look as he speaks in his typical deadpan. “If I were less impulsive, we wouldn’t have as many successful missions under our belt already.”

Martin scoffs. “I’d take less successful missions if it meant you stayed safe. Or do you think I enjoy having to dig worms from your skin, or, or, make sure you don’t end up sprouting fungus, or stitching you up when you decide to piss off something with knife hands-”

Jon waves a hand between them, relieved when Martin finally stops aggressively rubbing the gel across his arm and steps back to survey him. “Yes, yes. That’s why I was chosen to be Captain, not you.”

Another scoff. “No, I chose to go to medical school, not the academy. Honestly, I don’t know why Space Marshall Bouchard chose you over all of the other far more qualified options-”

“Love you too, Martin,” Jon interjects with a soft laugh, having heard this spiel a million times before. And perhaps, if not for knowing it comes from a place of affection and concern, he’d take offense to it. But Martin worries; that’s part of who he is. He worries, and even if Jon were the most qualified individual for the job, he’d worry.

“-I swear the man is just out to give me a heart attack when you go charging off into the dens of literal space lions. What did I ever do to deserve this?” Throwing his arms up in the air in an exaggerated gesture - which loses most of its effectiveness given the way the suit squeaks against itself as he moves - Martin moves to put away the supplies he used. “Christ. You know, it’s a good thing I love you, or I’d be done.”

“Done… with me, or on the ship?” Jon prompts, despite the fact that they’ve had this discussion before. Sometimes it’s fun to egg Martin on a little - god knows the favor is returned.

“Both!” Martin groans, dropping the disposable tools into the hole that leads to the medical waste fires. “You’d better not grow anything and miss our date tonight.”

“I’ll do my best to not grow anything on this arm.”

“Anywhere, Jon! You’d better not grow anything anywhere!”

#jmart #jonmartin #milkywaywriting #prompt #i didn't actually expect to end up with a whole fucking au for this #gfdi spines❤️#scleyera #tma #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jon sims

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best-magnus-archives-character · 11 months

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Bonus poll 8: Shipping poll 5

i am running out of ideas for these

a lot of these are making a return from previous rounds, i didnt get as many wlw submissions as mlm so i wanted to dedicate a poll for them!

also surprisingly no annabelle cane or nikola orsinov ship submissions in general! i guess idk any ships w either of them but i know they're v popular characters so i thought there would be smth!

#i tried to search for it and got distracted reblogging spider wife fanart #bonus polls #bonus poll #fun fact i fucked up the bonus poll tag by being inconsistent on whether it was plural or not #So now ill fo Both #the magnus archives #tma #tma polls

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piedpip3rrr · 2 years

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The Magnus Archives season 2

#cheeky repost to change things 👍#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #jonmartin #elias bouchard #daisy tonner #basira hussein #Melanie king

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deactivated20230702 · 1 year

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Guess who spent way too much time making TMA characters in this Picrew? THIS BITCH

Jonathan Sims | Martin Blackwood | Tim Stoker

Sasha James | Not!Sasha | Elias Bouchard

Melanie King | Basira Hussein | Daisy Tonner

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

(I've only finished up to season 3 so if these don't match descriptions given later on that's why)

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envihellbender · 8 months

Note

Yandere archive assistants headcanons? :3c (current with bonus Michael and Eric?)

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Timothy Stoker, Sasha James (and Not-Sasha), Melanie King, Basira Hussein, Alice “Daisy” Tanner, Michael Shelley, Eric Delano (The Magnus Archives)

Content: Yandere, abuse (emotional, physical), forced tattoos, forced piercings, stalking, medical

Martin

Remembers everything you have ever done and said. He may even have photographic evidence, he remembers it in blinding detail and will use it to back you up in many situations. However, he’ll also be quick to use it against you if you argue or he’s angry with you.

Constantly checks the find my friends app, if you’re somewhere unexpected he will call you in a panic. He needs to know where you are at all times, and he gets worried if he doesn’t.

He researches your interests extensively and spends a good portion of his wage on presents connected to them. It’s sweet, but is too much and you end up sharing finances, which results in him moving in with you. Before you know it Martin had almost complete control over your finances.

He doesn’t like it when you have friends or loved ones that aren’t him, he will talk to them incessantly and grill them about their friendship with you. He may even do this with your colleagues and family members, he is the only person you need and he will make sure everyone knows it.

Gaslighter extraordinaire. He will steal and hide your things, like your shoes, keys, phone, and wallet. He will make you think you’re losing your mind all the while making it harder for you to leave the house. Every now and then you’ll start to piece it together but when you vocalise it Martin looks at you with sad wide hazel eyes. You feel guilty for even considering it.

Tim

Tim is constantly paranoid and anxious that he is going to lose another loved one. As a result he is adamant to know where you are at all times, if you go somewhere unexpected and he sees it in Find My Friends or hears about it from someone he gets agitated and it usually results in you coming him to see him pacing anxiously in the living room. He can be calmed down, but he’s hyperventilating and having a panic attack at the idea of losing you.

Any days you book off work always coincides with Tim’s holidays (which starts to get suspicious and strange) and he always books a lot of trips away and things to do during the time. Even if you just want to spend your break doing nothing but resting and watching TV, Tim will be sure to book a hotel far away with a television and a hot tub. It takes a long time for you to realise that this has resulted in you never getting to see anyone any more.

If anyone tries to talk to you at work, or socially, Tim often somehow ends up joining in. He shows up and talks over you, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and makes it extremely clear to everyone around who you belong to.

He moves in with you a lot quicker than expected. It is mostly for practicality, you have a spare room and his contract has run out… except he doesn’t really use the spare room. You both said it would be more like housemates than partners, but it doesn’t end up that way. Tim starts looking through your mail, your phone, your bag when you get in from work, your side of the bedroom… everything. He always excuses it as an accident but if it’s harder to dismiss that way he responds with a defensive “it’s his house too.”

Sasha

Sasha is always extremely sweet, she has a kind smile and from the beginning she’s always been loving and caring. She strokes your hair and kisses your cheek, even when you’re at work or having serious conversations with people. It’s distracting and embarrassing but you know she means well, so you try not to say anything. Even when she says “mine” as she does it.

Your clothes start going missing and being replaced. T-shirts of bands you liked and are now nice, smart tops that look more in line with something Sasha would buy for herself. When you ask about it she says she has no idea what you’re talking about, you’ve never had a t-shirt like that. It doesn’t wow long before you’re dressing so much like her people mistake you for siblings.

She helps you when you’re doing every day tasks, it’s fine but she does it whilst stroking your hair and saying “what would you do without me?” with a fond smile on her lips. Soon she’s doing more and more. She deliberately turns off your alarm so you sleep in, and then scolds you for doing it like a parent.

She doesn’t enjoy sharing you with anyone, she doesn’t invite you out with her friends - insisting you stay home to “rest” because you get tired so easily (did you? You don’t remember that being an issue but she must have been right. She always was.) Whenever you had nights out with your friends Sasha gets annoyed insisting they had something booked for just the two of you, upset that you just “forgot.”

Not Sasha

Perhaps your first clue that Sasha had been replaced was when you woke up and she’d gotten rid of all of your keys, shoes, your phone, and laptop. She insisted you didn’t need them any more, she would give you all of the entertainment you needed. She had books, and you didn’t need the internet, just Netflix and Disney plus which she was happy to keep on the television.

For some reason, it wasn’t until after Sasha was revealed as a replacement that this became horrific and strange. At the time you simply didn’t question it, you genuinely thought Sasha had always been this way.

Sasha insists you work from home, it’s not safe for someone so weak and pathetic as you to take the tube twice a day, you’d get so tired, hurt, and get followed by God knows who. She sets you up a nice little work station, a ergonomic computer chair, with a few comfortable cushions, a blanket slipped under the desk for if you get cold. The computer is far better than the ones at the Institute you suppose.

It doesn’t take long before she starts doing your work for you. No matter what you write she giggles to herself and says “let me fix it”, she’d been working there far longer than you so you always trusted that she knew more than you did. Soon you ask her for help with every aspect of your job, even things that came naturally to you before.

Melanie

Dating Melanie makes your head spin, she is a woman of extremes and a lot of passion. So she goes from being distant and uninterested to being clingy and romantic. One day you’re worrying about her not answering your texts, the next she’s constantly by your side at work, holding your hand, cuddling you and kissing your cheek. It’s to the point where you can barely work and her snapping at people who “criticise” you is becoming extremely difficult. Especially when she does it to your boss.

She is quick to jump to your defence, but she also has a history of making up conflicts between people. It’s not entirely clear if she genuinely believes you’ve been slighted, or if she is simply trying to cause friction between you and your colleagues. Usually this is her shouting at someone who pointed out you left your phone in the library, once or twice it’s been punching someone who disagreed with the outcome you’ve come up with regarding a statement.

She enjoys being in charge, she’s independent so she won’t let you in to her life very often, she is keen to keep it separate from her relationships. However, this also means she ends up micromanaging your life. She decides which calls you need to make, how to organise and tidy your flat, points out when your method of handwriting isn’t efficient enough, and usually ends up doing all of these things for you. She tells you it’s fine and she loves helping you but she complains regularly in front of your friends.

Soon you don’t have your own friends, there are her friends which Melanie insists are your friends too. Except it’s very clear that none of them like you really, they don’t hate you it’s just they see you as adjacent to the friends’ group… a friend in law rather than a friend. As a result all your friendships go through Melanie.

Basira

It takes a long time to realise that Basira cares about you at all, at first you think she’s just being an asshole. Constantly getting on your back about your work, who you’re spending time with, and what you’re doing in your spare time. It’s not until she invites you out for a drink that you realise she’s doing out of affection. It’s so… strange. She’s obsessive but unpleasant until you and her are alone in the pub together. She compliments you and listens to you intently. Maybe she just comes on a little strong, you think.

You start to get nervous and paranoid when you notice police cars keep showing up around you. When you first mention it to Basira she shrugs it off, says it’s a coincidence and London is full of cop cars, right? You know it’s not a coincidence but it sounds insane, and Basira is never going to disagree with the police. But you know what you’ve seen. When you snap one day and go up to the car to confront them, the bored young man just shrugs and tells you that Hussein wanted them to keep an eye on you. It baffles you that Basira would waste the time and resources of the police to follow you.

The beatings actually start fairly early on. It’s your own fault, she’s just trying to help you and you keep making things difficult. You flirted with someone else at the pub last night, that’s what she said. It was an accident but you deserved the way she grabbed your hair and slammed your head against the wall saying you were hers. She repeated “mine mine mine” with every point of impact. When you lost your keys, she put her belt around your neck and pulled it, yelling at you about how stupid you are. How we were going to get robbed now and it was all your fault. Ranting about how someone would break in and rape you, how stupid you were, and how useless you were without her.

Daisy

Daisy tracks you but unlike the others she doesn’t use your mobile phone, she has a collar padlocked around your neck which she has a chip inside which connects to her phone. The idea is if she used an app on your phone then you could turn it off, or maybe you’d lose your phone. This way, she would constantly know exactly where you were.

People around you keep ending up dead. It starts small, you see a missing person’s poster for a guy who was chatting you up in a bar, then a week later it happens again and it’s the girl from the chip shop who had a nice smile and always gave you extra chips. You interact with someone new, and they disappear, after the forth time you try to avoid talking to people. You avoid social events, not knowing whether Daisy is going to decide someone who smiles at you deserves to be killed.

Eventually, Daisy decides the best thing to do is keep you locked away in her house. I mean, she can’t keep killing everyone you talk to (and you do keep talking to people when she tells you not to.) It’s when you’re trying to break up with her that she drugs your drink, and you don’t even notice. When you wake up in her spare room, you’re chained to the bed with Daisy standing over you. She looks sad and mournful with wide light grey eyes. She tells you she didn’t want to do this, and sighs.

Michael

Michael was a sweet partner, he’d leave drawings on your desk. Illustrations based on your favourite books and many other things. You collected them all in a box at your desk, looking through them when you were feeling particularly low. Of course, that was until the drawings started being of you. At first you thought it was just a little bit of an odd choice but romantic in it’s way. However, when it gets to the third drawing of you, you start to realise he must have been watching you whilst drawing this. Or taking photographs of you. By the forth one, the drawing is of you, sat drinking a gin and tonic, and watching television in your pyjamas. You tense and swallow as your breathing begins to quicken. You were alone last night, Michael had been away for work, but somehow he’d managed to see you and draw you despite being on the other side of the country.

You try to dismiss it, but Michael noticed something is wrong. He texts more and more often, calling you at least every hour during the day. What he says to you starts getting stranger, he’ll text you asking if you got out of the shower okay, if you enjoyed watching Stranger Things last night, and such, all things you never told him about. When you confront him he insists you must have mentioned it during a phone call. You know it’s not true, but you can’t dispute it.

On one of Michael’s work trips, you begin desperately searching the house. Your phone is receiving a mass of texts and calls as you do, every time you glance at your phone it’s a text from Michael begging you to stop. He says he can explain. You find minimum three cameras in every room, you send a picture of them to Michael asking if he cared to explain. You both decide to talk when he gets home. When he returns home he’s furious, a darkness in his eyes you’ve never seen before. He screams at you that he just wants you to be safe, he just wants to see your face and watch you to help him get through his day. Is that so terrible? By the end you’re in floods of tears, and you agree he can put the cameras back up.

Eric

You didn’t want to pursue a relationship with Eric, it would have been way too complicated given he had an occultist wife and a baby. However, Eric didn’t leave you with much choice. He started by leaving roses on your desk, everyone around you spoke about how sweet and romantic it was. You hated it, you hated the attention and you had no idea what to do with the mass of roses you had accumulated.

It got more unsettling when he waited for you after work, not moving from the doorway of the assistant’s office. He asked you to go out for a drink, and when you said you’d have to take a rain check he refuses to get out of the way. He reaches out and wraps his fingers in your hair. He repeats his question again. He asks if you want to come for a drink with him. He asks five more times before you give in, he has a delighted look on his face. You think a few drinks won’t hurt.

You don’t remember what happened the night before, you went for a drink with Eric and now you’re blearily waking up restrained to a medical table with a strange woman beside you. You scream as she shoved a needle in your arm and pressed down the plunger. Not out of pain, but sheer terror. Eric appears on the other side, he’s stroking your head and making “shushing” noises. He tells yous it’s going to be okay, Mary is just going to make a few adjustments to your body. She thinks it’s a good idea to give you a few protections against a couple of entities, but mostly it’s a nice little tracking tattoo. She also pushed some chemicals into your body, just to see how they’d interact with drugs and alcohol. Eric is going to let her do whatever experiments she likes so long as he gets to keep you at the end.

Eric kisses your forehead, telling you you’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. But the way he says it… you swallow. No one knows that you never actually agreed to be in a relationship with him.

#envi writes #do not archive

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welcometogrouchland · 2 years

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[ID: A digital fanart comic of The Magnus Archives. In it, Jon is a Sri Lankan man with brown skin and shoulder length black hair. He is wearing a teal jacket with a What The Ghost shirt and black trousers. Daisy is a white woman with black hair in a ponytail, wearing a white shirt and police vest. Martin is a Polish/Argentinian man with tanned skin and short brown hair and glasses, wearing a maroon hoodie and navy t-shirt. Basira is an Arab woman with brown skin and long black hair, wearing a brown jacket and teal turtle neck. Melanie is a Chinese woman with long bleach blond hair and black roots, wearing a black dress with translucent sleeves. Tim is a Malay man with tanned skin, and messy short black hair, wearing a white t-shirt and blue jacket.

On the first page, the first panel shows Jon talking on the phone, with illegible speech bubbles. Daisy takes notice of this. She enters a room containing the other assistants, and says "Someone ought to tell Sims to be a bit quieter when he's arguing with his..." the next speech bubble is over an image of the assistants looking up in surprise "girlfriend or whatever". Girlfriend is underlined.

Melanie responds "No that's-" but is cut off by Martin's larger, spiky speech bubble of "Girlfriend?? Daisy? Huh? What?". Basira interjects that "Wait does Jon have a girlfriend?" before Melanie slams her hand on the side of the panel she's in, yelling "He doesn't have a girlfriend! He was probably calling Georgie." She is visibly flushed.

Daisy looks frustrated and asks "Who's Georgie?". Melanie, now sweating, says "She's... She gave him a place to stay. They're just friends." Daisy's mouth has been erased for comic emphasis, and her eyebrows are a V shape. In the next panel she is more relaxed, saying "Oh. Yeah that makes more sense. Can't imagine he's taken right now." Basira is standing beside her, and Tim has appeared distantly behind them.

Tim then says "I mean..." and Daisy takes notice. He follows up with "He actually is, y'know. Somehow." All four assistants appear in the panel's corner with bulging eyes, exclaiming "What?!" in unison. Now Tim scratches the back of his neck, looking at Basira and saying "I thought you guys knew by now." Martin appears looming over him, with a spiked speech bubble saying "Know what, Tim?" Basira looks horrified as Tim gestures towards her and says "That you two are... you know." In a spiked speech bubble she then yells "What are you-" before cutting herself off and her face going blank, adding "Wait." She then looks annoyed, saying "Tim that... That was a lie Jon told you." Tim responds "...What?" and Basira says "Me and Jon never dated. He lied to cover up the fact that I was giving him evidence."

In the final page, Tim is alone in a box staring blankly ahead. As his co-workers say "...Tim? Tim are you alright?" "Tim?" and "Tim? Tim speak to us", the box he's in shatters like broken glass, leaving him standing in a white void. Still staring ahead, he simply says "I'm going to kill him." End ID]

Thoughts that occasionally plague my brain: we never see anyone actually tell Tim Jon and Basira aren't dating, ergo, I should make a very long comic about the dumbest way that could've happened <3 (also big thanks to Oran @radiosandrecordings for helping me w/ the ID)

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #melanie king #tim stoker #Basira Hussein #daisy tonner #this has taken me. nearly a week #and half the panels are copy-pasted for comedic affect #such is my curse ig #my brain has been so soup these past few days but this comic <3 keeping me going #idk i just wanted to make something fun and push myself to be more comedic/exaggerated and tbh I'm! very happy w/ it #uhh i don't have too many thoughts like i said brain soup #uh. I'm proud of how the composition on this turned out for the most part? i also drew my prettiest basira ever on page 2 which is nice lol #drawing daisy's hair was also fun i was just like. haha shadow the hedgehog lookin' ass #(i say that like my inspo wasn't 100% damion scotts batgirl art lmao)#also. is tim dressed like sans because of that one post i made a while back?? that's a secret I'll never tell. xoxo gossip girl #martin was very fun to draw here. he is so shape and is absolutely not ready to confront the idea of his love being even more unrequited-#-than he thinks it is right now. Martin said if god kicks me while I'm down one more time I'm judo flipping him #jon and Georgie are probably fighting over him being so distant/not telling her stuff #idk i didn't think about it too hard it was all just joke set up #anyway! i have returned from war! funny archives be upon ye #edit: MEANT TO ADD CREDIT TO ID BUT FORGOT I HAVE DONE IT NOW

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somanyfuckedupiftruebooks · 1 year

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Mag 88

It sucks that Martin is the last person on Basira's list when he's clearly running the Archives in Jon's absence. The K in Martin K Blackwood stands for King of Being Underestimated.

Because you've spent two seasons establishing yourself as Mom Friend when you should have been making a name for yourself as the Office Bitch.

The terrible reality of cops being allowed to just go missing and do whatever they fuck they want with no oversight aside, if I'm getting my dates right Daisy could have been MIA for anywhere from a fortnight to a month. Basira must be really worried to be trying to track her, so it's unusual for her to spend this long on a hunt. That's interesting to me because I wouldn't exactly categorise Jon as a master criminal; I can't imagine he's so much more difficult to track down than everyone else she's killed. So why is it taking her so long? Maybe she was really thrown by Elias and is off her game?

Good detective work Martin!

I need to congratulate him one last time because he's about to throw all his brains out the window.

Bye brains! 🧠🙋‍♂️ Martin won't be using you for a while.

I wonder what Martin doesn't think Jon does? Date?

Basira's right, Jon's the funniest man in the world.

Followed closely by...

...Martin, who is so salty that Basira contradicted him about his crush that he's immediately going to lash out at her like the Office Bitch that he was born to be. Time to let Passive Aggressive Martin off his leash.

Uh-oh. This doesn't sound good! Someone's about to get murdered.

At least Basira is immediately looking to protect Jon from Daisy. I'll give her points for that.

HURRAY!! It's time to dig!! I love to dig. 🥰

#a mag a day #mag 88 #reeah reacts to tma #the buried #dig #library of jurgen leitner #martin blackwood #basira hussein #melanie king

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ollieofthebeholder · 6 months

Text

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My website

Chapter 59: April 2017

[CLICK]

[SOUND OF A TELEPHONE BEING REPLACED IN ITS CRADLE]

[PEN SCRATCHING ACROSS PAPER, CAP BEING REPLACED, PEN BEING LAID ON DESK]

[STEADYING BREATH]

MANAL

[Faintly, from outside the door] Excuse me, y-you can’t—you can’t go in without an appointment, Mr. Bouchard is very busy—

ELIAS

[Under his breath] Ah. Ten minutes ahead of schedule.

[More loudly] It’s all right, Manal. Send them in.

[THE DOOR OPENS]

DAISY

Bouchard.

BASIRA

Easy.

JON

Hello, Elias.

ELIAS

Goodness, Jon. Whatever happened to your neck?

DAISY

[Smugly] That was me.

ELIAS

You look a mess.

JON

It’s been a hell of a week.

MANAL

It’s only Monday…?

JON

[Sounding slightly dismayed] It’s Monday?

ELIAS

Manal, will you call down to the Archives and ask the rest of the staff to come up, please? I think it would be worth their time to be here.

MANAL

O-of course, Mr. Bouchard.

[DOOR CLOSES]

DAISY

Okay. Let’s do this.

BASIRA

Er, Jon? Do you…you want to get this on tape?

ELIAS

No need, Basira. I’ve already got one running.

Now, you have something to ask me?

BASIRA

Go for it.

DAISY

Before I strangle the grinning bastard.

JON

[DEEP BREATH]

Elias. Did you kill Gertrude Robinson? And Jurgen Leitner?

ELIAS

[PLEASURED SIGH]

That’s…that’s quite nice, actually. Tingly…but sort of freeing.

[AUDIBLE SHUDDER FROM JON]

You know, even Gertrude never properly tried to compel me. I always wondered—

BASIRA

Just answer the question.

DAISY

Or don’t.

ELIAS

Oh, no need to worry about that. I just feel it’s only fair to wait for your colleagues, Jon. They’ll want to hear this too. Uh, it’s also very important to me, in a personal capacity, that you understand I’m answering you of my own free will.

JON

[Dry as the Sahara] Aren’t I the lucky one.

[HURRIED FOOTSTEPS OUTSIDE, DOOR OPENS QUICKLY]

MELANIE

Jon! Jesus, where the hell have you been?

MARTIN

[Overlapping Melanie] Thank God, I—

[Slightly disappointed] Basira?

TIM

Oh, Christ, what is it now?

SASHA

Yeah, same question, please.

JON

[Deceptively calm] Elias here is about to confess his crimes.

MARTIN

Ah.

MELANIE

Did he know that?

ELIAS

Yes, I was just saying to Jon. It’s very important to me that you understand that no action I have taken has been controlled. I have done everything because I wished to.

TIM

You know, that’s not nearly as comforting as you might think?

DAISY

Get to the point.

ELIAS

[Sighs] Of course, Detective. So. For the avoidance of any doubt. Yes, I killed Gertrude Robinson.

I’m surprised Martin didn’t tell you that.

BASIRA/DAISY

What?!

ELIAS

[Pleasantly] Oh, yes, didn’t you know? Martin has been aware that I am the one who murdered Gertrude Robinson for…quite some time.

How long has it been now, Martin?

MARTIN

[Tightly] Three hundred sixty-three days, twenty-one hours, thirty-five minutes, and about twelve seconds.

Not that I’m counting or anything.

ELIAS

[Does he sound slightly caught off-guard?] Of course not.

BASIRA

How did you know?

MARTIN

He told me he’d done it.

I-I didn’t have any proof. It’s not like I could have told either one of you when you were interviewing us…after.

MELANIE

Also, he did tell the rest of us.

MARTIN

Also that.

JON

We just wanted it on tape.

ELIAS

Of course. To business.

I killed Gertrude Robinson because she intended to destroy the Archives. And I killed Jurgen Leitner because he was…an unnecessary complication. Likely to tell Jon too much too early.

SASHA

Bloody hell!

TIM

Wait, wait. That was Jurgen Leitner?

ELIAS

It was.

MARTIN

Niech to szlag trafi! I knew he looked familiar…

DAISY

You’ve met him?

MELANIE

Our brother almost beat him to death once.

BASIRA

Daisy, where do I know that name from?

DAISY

Oh, the Yousuf case. An Introduction to Higher Anatomy.

MELANIE

[Under her breath] Flesh?

MARTIN

[Under his breath] Or Stranger.

BASIRA

[More or less over top of this] Ah…oh, God! And you killed him? You sure we shouldn’t be giving him a medal?

JON

Very sure.

DAISY

Ask him about Rose Zampano.

JON

I—I don’t think he had anything to do with that, actually.

TIM

Debatable.

BASIRA

What?

JON

Something else, it…it…it replaced her. I still don’t know how, but—

MELANIE

I don’t think you want to know that, mate.

ELIAS

He’s right, I’m afraid. The thing you remember as Rosie was nothing like her. It toyed with your memory. If I showed you a picture of the real Rosie now, you’d have no idea who it was.

TIM

So the night of the murder…?

ELIAS

It finally tried to kill Jon. Then Leitner killed it. Then I killed Leitner. And I believe that brings us up to date. More or less.

SASHA

What about Michael?

ELIAS

What about him? An irritant. Interfering because he’s bored, and he resents us. He has no purpose—

DAISY

Right. That’s enough for me. Even got it on tape.

Everyone get back.

[SOUNDS OF GENERAL ALARM AS DAISY DRAWS A GUN]

SASHA

What?

BASIRA

Daisy, wait.

DAISY

Out the way.

TIM

I thought you were going to arrest him.

DAISY

Get out the way!

MARTIN

Melanie, don’t—

[INTERCOM BUZZES]

DAISY

Don’t.

ELIAS

…

Excuse me.

[KEYPRESS STOPS THE BUZZING]

Yes?

MANAL (INTERCOM)

Um, M-Mr. Bouchard, the—there are some police officers here to see you?

ELIAS

Ah, yes, thank you, Manal. Er, could you ask them to wait a minute or two?

MANAL (INTERCOM)

I—yes, y-yes, sir. Of, of course.

[ELECTRIC SCREECH AS INTERCOM SHUTS OFF]

ELIAS

There. That should make it even easier for you. Right, Detective? I know you were planning to kill me, but surely an arrest is a consolation prize?

[LOW FRUSTRATED GROWLING FROM DAISY]

BASIRA

Daisy?

ELIAS

Oh, didn’t she tell you why she hadn’t gone back to the station?

Allow me. She rightly suspected that I held evidence of various murders she had committed, and that I sent this to her superiors.

SASHA

[With bitter irony] I didn’t think it counted as murder if it was in the public good.

DAISY

…

ELIAS

Well. She was correct, of course, I spent some time acquiring that evidence. Or creating it.

It’s true your superiors don’t much care about the killings, but the fact that there is proof…they’re not happy. And they want you brought in.

DAISY

So I kill you and go to jail. I’ll take that deal.

ELIAS

Martin, would you care to explain to Detective Tonner why she’s mistaken?

JON/MELANIE

[In the exact same tone of voice] Leave. Him. Alone.

MARTIN

[Sighs heavily] No, it’s…it’s fine.

As much as I hate to say it—he’s right. They’re not going to arrest you. They’re not even going to try. You’re not the only one like you on the Force. Some of them are even Sectioned. There are plenty of people besides you that your superiors could call on to…tidy things up.

BASIRA

They wouldn’t.

DAISY

Yeah. They would.

ELIAS

And anyone close enough to be implicated. They will kill Basira.

SASHA

But—but wait, wait, that’s not—she’s not even a cop anymore. They wouldn’t…

Would they?

DAISY

I’m sorry, Basira.

BASIRA

Yeah.

…

This is what you meant, then, is it?

MARTIN

When I said it would be safer to stay away? No. I told you exactly what I meant.

ELIAS

If those officers downstairs take you away…

Oh, but perhaps I was mistaken when I called. Maybe it was a false alarm.

DAISY

What do you want?

ELIAS

Collateral.

[PAPER IS PUSHED ACROSS THE DESK]

DAISY

That…what?

ELIAS

A contract of employment. For Basira.

BASIRA

Uh?

JON

What?

MARTIN

Don’t. Don’t you dare…

ELIAS

Sign it, and I’ll send your ex-colleagues on their way.

DAISY

Basira, I…

TIM

Don’t do it.

BASIRA

There.

MARTIN

Damn it…

ELIAS

Hmm.

[BUTTON PRESS]

False alarm, Manal. Could you apologize to the officers for me, and thank them for their time.

MANAL (INTERCOM)

O-oh! Um, all right. I-I mean, yes, sir, Mr. Bouchard. Right away.

ELIAS

[Sighs heavily, mutters quietly to himself] My kingdom for another Mrs. Nesbitt…

DAISY

So…what, you’re her boss now? Is that supposed to stop me?

ELIAS

Yes.

TIM

Can someone please explain to me why?

[SEVERAL BEATS OF SILENCE]

MARTIN

I…I actually don’t know the answer to that one.

I mean, she does still have a gun. And since that tape recorder is still running, it’s not that you think Basira would be the one to get the blame for it.

ELIAS

Hmm. Good to know you don’t have all the answers figured out, Martin.

[JON SPUTTERS INDIGNANTLY]

Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it. Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit.

SASHA

I’m sorry, what?

MELANIE

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

ELIAS

And it would not be a pleasant death.

DAISY

Bullshit!

ELIAS

Then shoot me. Just squeeze the trigger, and watch the only person you care about die screaming. Your last connection to humanity.

Do it.

BASIRA

Daisy…

[LONG PAUSE]

[CLICK OF A SAFETY BEING PUT BACK INTO PLACE]

[CHORUS OF SIGHS]

DAISY

What do you want?

ELIAS

The police are not the only ones who can find a use for your violence. I’m sure there’ll be plenty for you to do. Feel free to go where you like in the meantime. I’ll be in touch.

DAISY

You piece of—

BASIRA

Daisy, it…it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.

DAISY

[Pointedly] You sure about that?

ELIAS

Now that’s taken care of, if you’ll all give me and Jon a moment alone—

MELANIE

Jon and me. You’re supposed to put the other person first.

And no, I don’t think we’ll be doing that, thanks.

ELIAS

Now, really, Melanie—

MELANIE

Don’t you “now Melanie” me, you rotten bastard. You don’t have the first fucking clue what I grew up dealing with. You don’t scare me.

ELIAS

Ah, yes, that’s right. You’re Martin’s sister, of course. You must have dealt with some of the same things he has.

MELANIE

Damn right.

ELIAS

Please explain why you think you should stay in the room while I speak with Jon.

MELANIE

Does it matter if we do or not? That tape’s still running. And I’ve been working here long enough to know it’s not going to shut off until it’s good and ready. Whatever you say to him will be on tape.

TIM

And we’ve had tapes turn up in odd places, too, so it’s not like you can try to keep it from us and hope we won’t listen to it. If we’re meant to know, it will find us, and we will hear it, so you might as well let us all stay.

DAISY

This is fucking bullshit!

[FOOTSTEPS, DOOR SLAMS]

JON

They stay, Elias. Whatever it is you want to discuss, you can discuss in front of them.

ELIAS

…

Fine.

JON

Out with it, then. What do you want?

ELIAS

Honestly, to offer some congratulations. You’re doing a lot better than I expected.

JON

Feels like all I’ve managed to do is…not die.

ELIAS

And believe me, that is a remarkably rare skill.

JON

[Exasperated sigh] Elias, I know that’s not all you wanted to talk to me about, or you wouldn’t have tried to talk to me alone. Either tell me what it is you want me to do—want us to do—or let us go.

ELIAS

The Unknowing. I need you to stop it.

MELANIE

[Acidly] Oh, is that all.

MARTIN

Melanie.

JON

What is the Unknowing? Exactly.

ELIAS

A ritual. The Stranger and its kin attempting to gather power enough to bring it closer.

JON

[Unimpressed] We know that. What exactly does it entail?

SASHA

And how do we stop it?

ELIAS

That is what you need to find out.

TIM

And the reason you can’t just tell us this is…?

JON

You have Gertrude’s files, her—her notes. She was working on a way to stop this. Not to mention that you can apparently just…effortlessly see anything you want to!

ELIAS

Hardly effortlessly, but I take your point.

JON

So you know how to stop this. You could just tell us!

ELIAS

Melanie? Martin? Would one of you like to explain why I can’t?

[IDENTICAL SIGHS OF EXASPERATION FROM MARTIN AND MELANIE]

MARTIN

The Stranger is antithetical to the Beholding. To counter one, you have to lean closer to the other.

[FAINT SOUNDS OF STATIC GATHERING]

You—we—thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown. A simple explanation won’t do, because it would be information too easily obtained. In this case, it would not be enough to merely have the answers; we have to earn them. It’s as much about the gathering of the knowledge as it is about the knowledge itself. Even if we know the shape of the ritual, even if we know the steps Gertrude planned to take to stop them, if we don’t discover them for ourselves, there is every chance our efforts will fail. And—aah…

[STATIC CUTS ABRUPTLY]

MELANIE

And besides that, there’s a good chance it won’t look like what Gertrude thought it would anyway. I mean, they know she was on their trail and they probably figured she left notes for her successor even if she’s dead, so they’ve had, what, two years to change their plans since then?

ELIAS

[Interested] And how do you know that?

MELANIE

Please.

Everybody who’s had anything to do with the Fourteen knew about the Archivist and her…madcap crusade against all things spooky. Even Martin and I had heard the rumors, and all we did was help out at Pinhole Books on odd weekends. Anything working towards something that big would’ve known for damn sure she was after them. And once they got through their rendition of “Ding, Dong, the Witch Is Dead” after you oh so helpfully killed her, they probably set out to rework things.

Her notes might give us a starting point, but that’s about it.

ELIAS

Well. I can see that you will be ably assisted in your research, Jon.

[SLIDES A FOLDER ACROSS THE DESK]

Here. To tide you over for a couple days. You can get a Return to Work form from Manal, but don’t worry about the doctor’s note. Now, if there’s nothing else…?

JON

Right.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#elias bouchard #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #basira hussein #melanie king #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #manipulation #police brutality #emotional abuse #being trapped #workplace abuse #blackmail #misuse of Beholding powers

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