He's starting to think she might not be home after all.

He's about to turn around and leave. Maybe if he keeps moving, he can find someplace else to hide before they find him-- but her door opens anyways and there's a surprised exhale and a voice that says, "Jon?"

When he turns back to look at her, almost bursts into tears on the spot. "Georgie."

"What's-" she looks him up and down in trepidation, "What's going on?"

"I need your help. Can I come in?"

-

Your phone is already in the middle of the table when Tim sits down. He takes one look at the screen and get right back up again.

Jon's not the murderer.

"No." Tim jabs an angry finger at you, "No, we're not doing this first fucking thing in the morning, alright? Count me out."

A silent distressed sound shapes in your mouth as you lean forward and just barely manage to catch the back of his shirt. When he looks back, you mouth the word please.

Martin sets his cup of tea down on the table, looking proportionately grim regarding the situation. "Tim, sit down. This is important."

"Oh yeah sure." The chair scrapes harshly against the ground but at least you feel better with Tim sitting down, "Should come up with an alibi for the murder-boss before he gets convicted, right? All that we're good for really, assisting in murder."

"Tim..."

Your phone resettles with a click.

It was Elias.

Now they're both staring at you in surprise.

"(F/n), how can you be sure of that? You said-"

"Elias? I mean, I hate the dude as much the next person, but what does he have to do with this?" You raise a hand and hope they'll wait for you to get the whole thing out. It's best to start from the beginning, otherwise you'll be cobbling the story together all morning.

Jon called us in to tell us to go home. But I left a little after you guys.

I didn't notice that the door I was leaving through was yellow.

Martin sucks in a surprised breath.

When I finally got out, it was right back into Jon's office. There was an old man sitting there, and he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Jon wasn't in the room.

Then Elias came in.

I tried to stop him.

"Yeah, and how did that work out for you?" Tim says it in a bitter mumble, clearly a careless throwaway comment. But- well. Elias is dangerous, but you don't think that anyone really realizes how dangerous he is yet. You think the first time anyone did was when Elias forced the memories of her father on Melanie, and that obviously hasn't happened yet. (It won't, not if you can help it.)

You hesitate, but it's simple, to tap the back of Tim's hand and pull down your turtle neck to reveal the ring of bruises circumference your throat. Martin mummers a pained, "Oh God." where Tim just stares at the injury horrified.

His face quickly shuts down, but you can see the anger that lurks beneath the neutral set of his mouth, "Elias did that to you?"

You nod.

I didn't see the actual murder. But I saw Elias walk out of the office with blood all over him. Jon ran out of the Archives a full minute after him.

Tim's head slowly sinks down to rest against the table. "Fuck."

Martin's hands are shaking too badly to pick up his tea again. "What- what are we going to do now?"

If Jon's smart, he should have gone into hiding by now. There's not much we can do for him.

"Forget Jon!" Tim slams a hand on the table and both you and Martin flinch, "What about the part where we're working under a literal murderer?!"

Your hands are shaking by now. This is the most conversation you've had, text or otherwise, in a while.

Nothing. We can't quit. If Elias wanted to kill us, he would have done so.

"What's that supposed to mean? No, wait, how can you be so blasé about this?"

You stare blankly at Tim. Elias being a murderer isnt news to me

"What?"

"S-so wait-" Martin cuts in, "-there's nothing we can do? Nothing at all? I mean- there has to be something..." Martin trails off sounding hysterically desperate, hands wringing in his lap and tea forgotten in front of him.

The best we can do is try and direct the police towards Elias. Beyond that? I don't know.

-

A day later and Daisy comes back for another round of questioning. The moment you see her stalking down towards the Assistant's Office, you slip into the supply closet just next door. You know that she's probably going to question everybody and will eventually end playing that awkward game of pretending to be sympathetic to your 'mute' situation, but you'd rather hear what she has to say to Martin and Tim first. You could just listen to the tapes later, but it's much too late to come out right now.

The closet itself is dim, with the only light being what slips out from underneath the door. Maybe that's why you don't immediately realize that you're not quite alone, with your focus more towards trying to hear what Daisy and Martin are saying.

If you still had your voice, you would have screamed when a hand snaked around your shoulders. As such, you just end up flinching really hard and just narrowly miss slamming into the door. Then you realize that the hand wrapped around you covers the entire width of your shoulders and you tense slightly, tilting your head up to meet Michael's spiral eyes. He grins and gives you an exaggerated wink, reaching forward with his other hand to tap lightly on the door.

Tap. A static rises in the air. Tap. Voices, lost somewhere in the high-pitched squeal of a tape recorder. Tap. The voices become clearer, but solidly sounding like you're listening to them through a tape recorder, instead of a supply closet door.

"-wanted a statement last time. About- it was- when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did."

"Didn't know who the killer was last time." Personally, you've always thought that Daisy's voice sounds deceptively soft for her character, "This time it's simpler. And- And Basira's not police anymore."

You hum lowly in your throat. So, the whole kidnapping thing with Calum Brodie and Maxwell Rayner has already happened, huh. You weren't sure where in the timeline that happened, actually. You could have made a guess, but it isn't all that important, in the grand scheme of things

"Look, y-you're- it's not Jon. It can't be. (F/n) even said they saw Elias coming out of his office and-" Martin cuts himself off frustrated. Behind you, Michael let's out a light huff of laughter and almost goes to speak, before you shush him incessantly. Martin sucks in lungful of air and his voice sounds marginally more level. "I- I don't think it was Jon."

"You think I should arrest Elias?"

"Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I think and- I mean- look, that tape we gave you-"

"Has a lot of distortion-" you glance accusingly at Michael and he gives you an unapologetic shrug in return, "-some screaming and a recording of you seeing the body, you claim for the first time. Always suspicious when two suspects are each other's only alibi."

"I told you that there was someone else there. And- and (F/n)-"

"Mx. (L/n) was found underneath their desk having a bloody panic attack, so who should we be asking? The man with the knife hands or the woman trapped in your 'magic corridors'?" Said knife hands curls tighter around your shoulders until the points lightly dig into your skin in what might seem like a threat. Or maybe Michael is just forgetting himself. You hand wanders over to his and pulls it away from your skin, his fingers feeling like plastic underneath you palm.

"It. Happened."

"Well, if your witnesses appear back in this universe, maybe the situation will change. Otherwise, it's an easy choice: answer my question or I pin it on you."

"Y-you can't! That-That's not..."

Your attention drifts back to the creature standing behind you, and it's him you're addressing when you whisper. "Would you? Give you testimony if I asked?"

Michael laughs and you can taste the blooming headache like something bitter coating your tongue, "It's cute of you to think I would do you any sort of favor but if you must know, I find this much too amusing to make this easier on any of you."

You sigh tiredly, "You're a menace Michael."

"And you're a fool. It's curious how patient you insist on being with me. At this point, I almost wonder what you would be like if you were to lose that patience."

"If you wanted to hurt me-" you say with a patience you don't feel. You're pounding heart is a testimony of that, "-you would. And there would be nothing I could do about it. I like to think I've reached a point in life where I can accept that some things are rather beyond my control."

His fingers drum against your shoulder but interestingly enough, you don't feel the sharp points against you skin anymore. "Are you hoping that I will become your ally?"

You shrug, "Sure. Would be mighty useful, having someone who can literally bend space as he pleases."

Suddenly, you feel fingers dig into your chin and jerk your head to the side. You gasp in pain as Michael smiles a twisted, fractured thing down at you. "I hope you're not stupid enough to believe that I'm on your side."

You give him your dirtiest glare, feeling the blood that wells underneath the tips of his fingers and slides down your chin. "I don't Michael. I said it'd be nice, not that I actually believe it can happen."

He studies your face for a second longer before letting go, watching un-bothered as you futilely wipe the blood from your jaw. He reaches past you, doesn't react when you flinch back. When he opens the door, you see that it's a different door altogether, one that leads out of Document Storage. At least this way no one wonder why you were hiding in the supply closet.

You don't look back at him as you step out, and neither does Michael say anything when he closes the door behind you. Resigned, you head towards the Assistant's office again and notice that a whole ten minutes have passed from when you lost track of Martin's interview. You think that shouldn't be possible, but time is difficult when it comes to the Spiral.

You go to push the door open, surprised when it swings inwards without you ever touching the handle. On the other side, Tim looks at you in the same surprise, mirrored, eyes narrowing when he notices the blood on your chin. "What happened?"

You open your mouth to speak but surprise surprise, no words come out. Instead, you claw your fingers and knock on the door, which Tim understands a second later when he scowls, "Michael?"

You nod, and Tim grabs you by the arm and leads you inside. Daisy watches you both with keen eyes, her gaze a physical weight on your shoulders.

"Give us a sec, Detective."

"Sure. Take your time."

You ignore her, trying to convince Tim that you're perfectly fine through a rather unsuccessful game of charades. When he doesn't seem to want to let you go either way, you sourly let him clean your chin with the tissues he has in his desk and then bandage them.

It seems like Daisy has had much of the same with Tim's mother-henning, when she speaks up, "You done fussing, Stoker?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm leaving, I'm leaving."

You take a seat in front of Daisy.

"Right. What was that then?"

Knife hands man.

"Really now." Daisy's voice is disbelievingly flat, but you refuse to lie just to please her, "Suppose he didn't stick around?"

He comes and goes.

"Hmmm. Sure. You have any problem with the tape-recorder?"

You shake your head.

"Do you know where Jonathan Sims is? Anyone he might have turned to? Friends, family, partner?"

Of course, you know where he is. You just hope Daisy doesn't realize that.

You shake your head again.

"No one?" Daisy sounds frustrated, and you hate to say that you might not be imagining the slight growl in her voice.

I've only worked here for a few days, and even then, I've talked more with the others than my boss.

"You seem quite calm for someone who's just finding out about the fucked-up monsters in this place."

You smile blandly. Who said I'm just finding out about the monsters?

"That why you joined then? Can't think of any other reason someone would want to work in this dump."

I was forced.

This makes Daisy sit upright. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrug. I saw both Jon and Elias walk out of his office after the murder. There's a reason why I think Elias is the one who did it.

"Would it kill you," Daisy growls, "To give a straight answer."

You almost want to answer with something quick and witty, but the rising sense of dread stops you. You're starting feel fidgety, like prey that knows a predator is close.

Just talk to Elias. I don't think Jon did it and I think Elias did. I don't know Jon well enough to be able to tell you where he might have gone.

Daisy intently stares at you for a few more seconds, looking like she wishes she could simply flay the answers she wants out of you. Instead, you meet her gaze evenly, refusing to back down. You have been hunted by things far worse than her, and right now, you are not her prey.

Finally, Daisy grunts, "Fine. Send Bouchard in."

-

You don't know what to do.

"Maybe they said something about Sasha, you know?"

"She's dead, Martin. Come on! Even you're not that blind. He got her, too."

"Elias?"

Tim doesn't respond.

"Wh- you mean Jon? You know that Jon didn't kill that man!"

"Do I? Do I know Martin?"

You don't know what to do.

"Maybe it ate her. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was always some messed up mutant and we just never noticed. Could have been 'Michael'. When you disappear and there are more than three different ways you might be dea-

Look, I'm sorry."

You don't know what to do.

"T-Tim...

"I'm going to go lie down."

You follow Tim to the cot in Document Storage. He's lying down facing the wall, but you make sure that he hears the door as you close it behind you.

"Martin- can we just- oh." You wave as Tim simply turns away again. You don't think you're quite welcome to sit on the cot beside Tim, so instead you slide down to the floor and lean against the frame.

Its silent as you fiddle with your phone, before Tim let's out a huge sigh and turns to face you. "Look. I appreciate this whole 'silent support' thing you're doing but I'd really just rather be-"

That thing wasn't Sasha.

He stares blankly at the message for longer than it takes him to read it. His voice his hollow when he speaks, "What do you mean?"

When I came to work here, before this whole murder thing, even then that thing called itself Sasha but it wasn't her.

Tim doesn't respond. It makes you nervous, because you're expecting questions about how you could possibly know this and what happened to Sasha, if that wasn't her. Even when the question doesn't come, you decide to answer them anyways.

There are things out there that can replace people, pretend to be them. I've read a few statements where people tell their story about how their family member got replaced by someone who looks completely different. Stories about how nobody but that person notice that anyone has even been replaced.

These creatures don't even leave any traces of the person they replace. They change the photographs, memories, everything. Except potoroids. And tapes.

And then you pull out the tape you got from Jon's office before you came here. You've already got it rewound, so it's only a matter of pressing play:

"I thought it was pronounced 'Ka-lee-o-pee?'"

"Sasha? You're... back early – I thought you were trying to get hold of those police reports for the Harold Silvana case?"

"Tried and succeeded. They were actually quite helpful."

Tim's hand shaky presses against his mouth.

"Oh... well. Good work."

"So, do we know if it's pronounced 'Ka-lee-o-pee' or 'Kuh-ly-o-pee'?"

"I have also heard it said as "Ka-lee-ope".

"Seriously? By who?"

"Americans."

"Ah."

"As far as I can tell there isn't a "correct" pronunciation. But they were originally named after the Greek muse Calliope, so..."

"Are people going to understand that it's from Greek mythology?"

"If they're working for the Magnus Institute, then I would hope so."

"I've just heard it more often as 'ka-lee-o-pee'."

"I didn't-" Tim's voice cracks with heavy grief, "that's what she sounded like?"

You nod.

"When did she- when did she even die then? How much of what I remember is fake-"

I don't know. You did know, but you didn't know how you could tell him. But Tim, you were with her in research, right?

"I met her when we were in high school."

You nod quickly. That creature can replace how Sasha looks and sounds but it can't replace memories. It can't replace the time you've spent with her and it can't replace how much you cared about her.

Tim abruptly sits up and you startle, shying away from him when he shouts, "But Sasha is still gone isn't she?! She's still gone and I didn't even fucking notice! She's gone and there's nothing I can do-" he breaks down, and you don't want to push his boundaries but you think it's the right thing to do when you rise up on your knees and pull him in for a hug.

Tim's bends down and clings desperately to you. You hold on just as fiercely, refusing to let go even when he slides down onto the floor in front of you. There's a growing wet patch on your shoulder and Tim is squeezing half of the air out of your lungs but you don't care. All you can think about is how Tim never really got a chance to mourn Sasha in canon and how you're going to try your damned hardest to make sure that doesn't happen again.

There was no one for Tim in canon. Martin worried more after Jon than he listened to any of Tim's grievances with the boss who stalked him, and there was no one but the two of them when Jon was framed for Leitner's murder. And then came the circus business immediately after and of course all Tim had was grief and revenge.

But here? On the floor of Document Storage where the least you can do is tell Tim that he hasn't really forgotten Sasha as much as he fears? That there was nothing he could have done, in the end, nothing he could have said and nothing he could have known? There isn't any scenario where Sasha's death is his fault, because the Fears are insidious and unpredictable and there's never any reason. Here, you can let Tim mourn and make sure he doesn't sink.

You can make sure he has some support.