Chapter Text
“...Double boss?” The thing that was definitely not Sasha asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.
Jon’s eyes widened in horror, his heart beating out of his chest. Calm yourself. You killed her once, you can do so again. I just need time.
“Right,” Jon said, brushing a small clump of dirt off his sweater, attempting to regain his composure. “I should explain. I am, in short, you,” he gestured to Past-Jon, “from a future that hopefully will never come to pass”
Past-Jon snorted. “How the hell are we supposed to believe that? For all we know you're not another one of those... Things, trying to steal my face!”
Jon almost laughed at the irony. If only he knew. “What must I say to convince you?” Jon asked in mock elegance.
“Say something only I know about.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Past-Jon nodded, and Jon grimaced. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. “Knock knock,” Jon whispered, lowering his voice to the same tone as he’d used during his statement. “Who is it, Mr. Spider?”
Past-Jon flinched, rage, fear, and grief flashing across his face at once, but Jon continued.
“It’s Mr. Bluebottle! And he’s brought you a cake!” His tone began to take on a dangerous lilt as his eyes sparked green. He could feel his pulse racing, the memories rushing through him like an overflowing dam. “Mr. Spider doesn’t like it.”
“You can stop now,” Past-Jon snapped, but in all honesty, he wasn’t so sure he could.
This is my statement once more.
“Knock knock. Who is it, Mr. Spider?” He continued as Tim and Martin looked between the two with increasing levels of horror. “It’s Mrs. Fruit! And she’s brought you some flowers!”
“Stop it!” Past-Jon shouted, baring his teeth like a caged animal.
“Mr. Spider doesn’t eat flowers.” His voice rose to a yell, drowning out Past-Jon’s pleas in static he was sure only he could hear.
“Knock knock. Who is it Mr. Spider?”
“It’s Mr. Horse. And he’s brought you his son!”
Jon’s voice rose to a crescendo.
“Mr. Spider wants more.”
Suddenly, the static stopped, and Past-Jon was glaring at him in disgust and fear. Mostly fear. “My apologies,” Jon said, not very sorry at all. “Does my proof work for you, Mr. Sims?” He raised his chin to almost look down upon the man standing before him.
Past-Jon nodded silently.
“Wonderful,” Jon said, choosing to ignore the way Not-Sasha was staring at him as though he held the keys to the universe. Which, in her defense, he quite literally did. “Now, any questions?”
“What happened to you?” Martin blurted out, then slapped his hands over his mouth in an instant moment of regret..
Jon chuckled. “Hell, mostly.”
“And what happened to us?” Not-Sasha asked, giving him a pointed look.
Jon tensed, then did his immediate best to look as casual as possible. “You all are fine,” Jon lied with a dismissive wave using his non-injured hand. “Lived to see the end and all that. Nothing too special.”
“Right…” Tim said skeptically. “So what do we call you then? Because I have a feeling ‘Double Boss’ is going to get old fast.”
“Hmm… I suppose you can’t just call me Jon, that’d get confusing.”
“How about Sims?” Martin suggested.
“Sounds perfect,” Past-Jon, or, just Jon now, said with a swift clap, cutting Sims off before he could even open his mouth. “Now can we please all get back to-”
He was cut off by loud, heavy footsteps that made them all freeze. Footsteps that Sims had done well to memorize his last few years working as the Archivist.
Jonah Magnus.
“Elias!” Tim said, spinning around to face him as though on wheels.
“Hello, Tim,” Elias greeted with a sickening smile and fake pleasantries. “Jon. Martin. Sasha. And… You.”
“Me,” Sims agreed.
“Who are you, exactly?” Elias asked coldly.
“I’m Jon’s brother, Jonny. He brought me in to help him with some paperwork he didn’t have time to take care of.” Sims lied with an ease that should have scared him more than it did.
What did scare him was Elias’ expression. “I see. I was unaware Jonathan had a sibling.” The old Victorian asshole’s eyes bored into him like a giant drill that wanted to kill him as violently as possible while still maintaining the cleanliness of the ugly green carpet beneath them.
“I try to stay off the map. There are eyes everywhere, you know. Watching,” Sims said as he returned Elias’ glare tenfold.
“I suppose those eyes have a blindspot then, since I ran extremely thorough background checks on each and every one of my employees, and yet you never seemed to fall within my sights.”
Is he… serious? “How unfortunate.”
“Indeed,” Elias said, turning back to Jon. Oh my god, he isn’t kidding. He has no idea who I really am. “In any case, it is extremely unprofessional to invite non-staff members into the archives unless it is for the purpose of recording a statement. I have to say how disappointed I am with you, Jon.”
Jon hung his head, and Sims could tell from his clenched fists that he was quietly seething at the reprimand. “Yes sir.”
Elias nodded. “Good. I expect this will never happen again. I also expect that the rest of you who are actually on my payroll will return to their duties. Is that understood?”
“Yes boss,” the Archives staff said in unison with varying levels of disgust.
As Elias stalked off with no further words, Jon turned to glare at Sims once more. “Jonny? Seriously?”
“What did you want me to do, tell him that I’m a time traveler?” Sims shot back. “Besides, the most he’ll ever give you for me being down here is a slap on the wrist.” Though, let’s face it, he likely already knows everything I’ve told all of you, even if he can’t read me. So you’re a liability.
“He could deduct my pay, he could fire me,” Jon began to list, but Martin placed a hand on his shoulder and he paused long enough to take a step back and for Sims to loudly talk over him.
“Right, next order of business,” Sims said. “Has anybody here happened to come across another Martin?”