Chapter Text
Sasha always came to work early, it had become a habit of hers once she had noticed the disaster they left behind after closing. Cleaning was calming for her because she knew it was something she could control.
Throughout her life Sasha had always been the backseat driver. Her parents urged her to choose a profession that would pay well. A doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, the typical jobs that paid a living wage. Sasha never felt inclined towards any of her parents' suggestions. To be honest, she didn’t know what she wanted for a long time.
That was until what she wanted appeared at a bar one night. All long hair and studded dress.
Sasha found herself drawn to a woman that night, she let it take her by the hand to an apartment. She let it talk to her, kiss her. And despite everything. She let it sink it’s unnatural teeth into her shoulder. She watched helplessly as two eyes turned to eight, as a silky smooth voice turned into nails against a chalkboard.
There was a loss of control, a slip in voluntary movement. Sasha froze.
There were eyes on the walls and webs in her ears.
There were spiders all around her.
There were spiders in her skin.
One gasped breath as she dragged herself out from whatever mind control she had been put under.
She had run, but she had not fled. For it did not allow her to escape, it ensnared her deeper into it’s cradled arms, wrapped the first of it’s string around her body and claimed her as it’s own.
Sasha ran, and she ran, and she ran, until she could run no more. Her lungs ached as she took in heavy, gasping breaths. Sasha leaned against a wall before sliding down. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but when the downpour of rain began, she knew she had to get back home.
Was she even safe at home?
The more she walked, the more she itched. A bone deep sensation that had her shivering. There was something under her skin, and she could feel it. She distinctly felt all eight legs of every spider crawl through her. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry. But she had used up all her tears. So instead she just hurt. She scratched her arms, deep gashes brought upon by her nails. Blood leaked from the wounds, runny from the rain and dripping clumsily onto the sidewalk beneath her. Despite everything, there was still something there that was not there. A want. A need. A thrill. She couldn’t figure it out.
She still can’t if she’s being entirely honest with herself. Even on the nights it gets hard, the nights where she tears her skin off to get them out.
Get them out.
No matter how much she tried. She never knew why that night had led her to this job. The instinct so rooted within her bones to investigate, to learn, and to keep all of her new friends connected, safe.
“Sasha?” A quiet, tinny voice from her right. With a fast blink she was back in the archives, before she even turned her head she addressed him.
“Ah, Martin! You’re early.” She commented, coughing into her fist with embarrassment. Martin gave her an odd look, tilting his head and letting his ginger locks fall over his rounded face.
“Not really, it’s eight.” He commented, not rudely. Sasha looked down at her watch to see the blinking 8:01 staring back at her. She bit down on her cheek, had she been in her head too long.
“Ah I must have spaced out while cleaning, you know how it is, you get so invested that it just floats away.” She grinned, summoning some of her energy to stop Martin from worrying. Thankfully, Martin let out a startled chuckle, biting his knuckle lightly.
“Don’t I know it.” He shuffled through papers in his arms that Sasha hadn’t noticed. “I’ve got to get back to my desk but uh, will you do me a favor?” He requested lightly, placing his hand on his neck. Sasha nodded at him, placing down the broom.
“Sure what’s up Martoo.” She replies, voice taking on a softer, more parental tone.
“Will you check up on Tim for me?” Martin wrung his hands together. “He’s not acting like his usual self, I mean not that it’s awful or anything. It’s just….It’s just that it worries me? A little? Everyone is allowed their bad days but it would make me feel better if I got confirmation he’s not in danger or anything.”
Martin shrugged, a light blush dusting his cheeks when Sasha didn’t reply.
“And you can’t ask him yourself because…?” Sasha led on and Martin’s face blushed deeper.
“You guys are uhm…closer? And I have a lot of work to do.” He said, slowly inching away from her.
Sasha raised her brow as he gave her a small, reassuring smile before shuffling away. She sighed heavily, something was always wrong with Tim, he’s a very emotional man. Sasha is all for letting men express emotions, but when their emotions are either rage or humor, one tends to come out a little stronger.
She fixed her braids, tying them into a ponytail to keep them out of her face as she walked towards Tim’s office. When she took a peek in, it was empty.
Odd.
She kept wandering through the office and when she continually didn’t find him, she started to worry a bit, becoming a fraction more panicked with her search.
When she reached the final door she hesitated a moment before rapping a few quick knocks on Jon’s office door, taking a cautious step back as the door was opened. Sasha looked Jon up and down before clearing her throat.
“Is Ti-“ she barely even finished her sentence before she was pulled into the dim office covered with small creatures. Vaguely, she could make out a Tim shaped blob on the cot, and if she listened closely, she could hear the silent taps on whatever new game he had installed that week.
Jon looked at her, eyes widened slightly as if begging her for something. She furrowed her brow, placing one hand on her hip as she attempted to decipher his expression. Thankfully, all it took was for him to send a few quick, frantic looks over to Tim for her to get the message. She let out a near silent “Ohhh,” before giving Jon a short pat on his arm. She walked over to Tim, kneeling by the cot. His eyes flicked over to her for a second before they flicked back to his game.
Sasha opened her book bag, digging through the contents before humming in satisfaction as she found what she was looking for.
“Look I’ve got your favorite book and I bet Martin’s making his killer tea right about now. Why don’t we get out of Jon’s dingy and dreary office.” She said, sending a glance towards Jon. “No offense.” Jon shrugged, shoving his hands into the pocket of his khakis. Tim looked over at her and took in the room, he shut his eyes before sighing.
“Fine. But only because this place is fucking creepy.” This time, Jon did give a small frown. When Tim made his move to get up, several moths that had been resting scattered and instead of Tim’s pleased chuckle at the situation, he swatted at the bugs, hitting one in the process. Sasha tensed up, looking over to Jon once she confirmed the moth was dead. The other man was tensed, his eyes lowered, but he was keeping himself together as he stiffly walked over to them, cradling the small moth in his hands.
“Get the fuck out.” He hissed sharply before inhaling, “please.” He tacked on, placing the moth onto his desk gently.
Sasha thinned her lips as she dragged Tim out of Jon’s room, closing the door behind her before she turned to Tim.
“What the fuck was that?” She whisper-yelled, grabbing Tim’s shoulders and shaking him. “You know how much those moth’s mean to him and you just kill one right in front of him?” She questions, letting him go but continuing to gesture wildly with her hands.
“It’s none of your business Sasha. So what if I killed one of them, there’s thousands in his creepy little colony anyways.” Tim rebutted, head tilting down towards Sasha, face screwed up in a rage.
“That doesn’t matter Tim! You need to apologize or something!” Sasha continued, walking towards Tim with large strides, backing him into a corner.
“God stop it Sasha! You aren’t my mother, you’re just a co-worker!” Sasha stopped at that, she lifted her hand up to her mouth before biting harshly, stopping the hurt from welling up in her.
“You’re acting like a child Tim.” She finally said after a long pause. Mouth downturned in a frown that didn’t quite fit her.
“Yeah? So what, I never got to be one and now, I’m stuck up in more paranormal shit than I wanted. I have to live with a monster in my own work while still trying to cope with losing someone to something I can’t figure out.” He ranted, practically pushing her out of the way as he began to pace. “And Gertrude. God don’t even get me started with her. God forbid she let sleeping dogs lie.”
Sasha was taken aback, confused. “Woah woah, you told me last night that you and Jon were having a good time, you told me about the coffee incident, what changed from that very moment?” Sasha questioned. Tim had texted her about what had happened last night, about how Jon had comforted him.
Tim breathed in, “No I..I didn’t mean it like that, Jon, he’s a good guy and I’m just. Not.” He admitted, tone still laced with anger and frustration, but now she could pinpoint a hint of guilt.
“Jon’s just an odd guy, but he’s so loved, and fuck Sasha, he reminds me of Danny.” Sasha was expecting this. The rage eventually ebbed into sorrow, or grief, or guilt. Maybe all three.
“So why call him a monster?” She prodded, walking closer to him.
“For a moment I think, I saw her in him. Sometimes when he smiles I can only see her face. It scares me, Sasha. I know he’s good, but I can’t stop seeing her face, and it scares me.” He finally admits, voice tapering off at the end.
“It’s getting harder for me to discern what’s actually real, it’s like everything is surrounded by this fog I can’t get out of.” Tim sat next to Sasha, beginning his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, tapping an indiscernible tune with his fingers.
Sasha sighed softly, looking up to the ceiling before her gaze landed on Tim. Her hand goes to stroke hair out of his face, where it had been stuck to his wet cheeks.
“I’m scared too. Everyday I wake up and I feel trapped outside of my body again. But, grief, fear. It isn’t a mountain Tim.” Tim sniffed, looking ahead and Sasha continued.
“It’s more like a backpack, filled with heavy rocks that you endlessly carry. At the beginning it’s hard, but people dear to you can help you carry the backpack. It never goes away, sure, and some days it’s much lighter. Other days, not so much. You can’t ever get rid of grief Tim. But you don’t have to succumb to it either.”
Tim took a moment, letting the work soak in. Still looking forward, he moved his arm.
He grasped her hand in his, and soaked in the warmth.