Chapter Text
Jon had never run faster in his life than he did in those minutes it took to reach the Archives. His arms burned from carrying the axe but he didn’t dare consider letting go of it for a second. The only things he could hear were his and the Not!Rosie’s footfalls, his own slightly erratic breathing, and his heart pounding in his chest.
It only took him three minutes to reach the Archives, but one more to actually find the trapdoor. It was hidden under yet more stacks of paper he unceremoniously shoved to the side. Jon hesitated for only a moment when he saw how dark the passage was but the voice of the Not!Rosie calling out to him silenced any doubts.
He dropped the axe down first, not bothering to wait for it to hit the bottom before he began to climb down the ladder. The farther down Jon went, however, the clearer it became that going in unprepared had been a mistake. Even with the light seeping in through the trapdoor he could barely make out the rungs less than a foot from his face.
By the time he reached the bottom it was pitch black and he had to run his hands over the hard stone floor to find the axe. Once he did he was off down the corridor, running as fast as he dared in the gloom.
It was a good few minutes before he finally stopped. As he’d ran, he’d noticed that every once in a while there was a lantern of sorts hanging on the wall, casting everything in a distinct kind of shadow. He stopped in one of the pools of light, panting and shaking as he slumped against the wall. Glancing around, Jon found he had no clue where he was. The rough stone walls were different from the ones near the trapdoor but he couldn’t have told you when they’d changed.
It was as he stood there, catching his breath, that he remembered Gertrude’s instructions. Jon was supposed to find Jurgen Leitner. His breath caught in his throat as the name clicked in his mind.
And he was suddenly so very afraid, more than he was of the Not!Rosie thing. The fear from that day nearly four years ago still rang loud and clear in his head, not only because he’d had to relive it earlier that day but because it was always there, playing at the edges of his consciousness.
The images of those pages and the bookplate would always be fresh in his mind. And… the boy who Jon couldn’t even remember the name of…
‘From the Library of Jurgen Leitner’ Even just thinking of the phrase terrified Jon and he certainly did not want to meet the man himself. He had the thought that maybe he could out-smart the Not!Rosie; double back, go around it and get out of there.
Looking behind himself, Jon was sure that was the way he’d come, and likely the passage the Not!Rosie would still be coming down. Obviously going back the way he’d come was not an option, but he was fairly certain there had been an offshoot from the passage a little ways back. He took a few more moments to collect himself before he took a deep breath in and out, got a better grip on the axe still clutched in his arms, and began to walk back down the corridor.
At least, he thought he was going back, but the hallway Jon had been running down hadn’t twisted off to the left like this, nor had it taken him quite this long to get through. Or… had it? He had no watch, no way to contextualize what time it was or how long it had been. Not all that long, surely.
After god-knows-how-long of walking he finally decided to turn around and attempt to retrace his steps to the lamp. How he was going to do that exactly, Jon wasn’t sure. All he knew for a fact was that he hadn’t seen or heard the Not!Rosie for ages and it was beginning to worry him a little. He also hadn’t seen any sign of Gertrude or Jurgen Leitner, though if he was being honest he hadn’t really been looking for the latter.
The hallways twisted in strange ways Jon didn’t understand and despite heeding Gertrude’s warning not to take any stairs he was almost entirely certain he wasn’t on the first level anymore. He must’ve been wandering around for hours before he finally considered looking for Leitner.
He’d been putting it off but was getting desperate by that point. Even if just to hear something other than the ringing of his own footsteps it was worth it. Jon was standing under one of the lanterns when he hesitantly called out, “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
His heart skipped a beat when he heard movement up ahead.
It could’ve been Leitner or Gertrude but there was also every chance it was the Not!Rosie. Honestly, Jon wasn’t sure if he was more afraid at the prospect of finding that sick, skin-stealing thing, or the man who’d inadvertently scarred his childhood.
Still, he was quickly running out of options and patience. He was scared, frustrated, and just wanted some answers. So, against his better judgment, Jon slowly began to walk down the corridor.
He didn’t walk for long, but it was enough to make him worry. Whatever was up ahead shouldn’t have been able to hear him from that far away, he should’ve been out of earshot. Even so, it wasn’t like Jon had any other options, not really. He could possibly go back the way he’d come but he’d already alerted who or whatever it was to his general area if not his exact location. They would likely follow him, and at least if he was chased again he’d know what exactly he was running from. There was also the matter of getting out of the tunnels. If he turned back now he would only get more lost. Being chased would at the very least give his wandering a point.
“Hello?” He called out again, “Hello? Is anyone here?” His feet came to a full stop when he heard the almost scuttling movement of legs in front of him.
It was much too dark to see, but Jon heard it loud and clear when the Not!Rosie said, almost smugly, “There you are.”
His eyes widened and he stumbled back, just barely out of reach as the thing swung an arm out at him. He whipped around and began to run full pelt down the passage as the creature lumbered on behind him.
Stupid. How could he have been so stupid?! Of course it was the Not!Rosie. Of course it was! How could it not have been? How else would it have been able to hear him so far down the hallway?
As scared as he was of stopping, fear and adrenaline can only get you so far. It was much sooner than Jon would have liked that he started to slow down, gasping for breath. His lungs and legs burned with exertion, and his arms felt like lead.
Behind him he could hear the Not!Rosie calling out to him, its words echoing through the passages. “Don’t be afraid! I’m here to help.” The hairs on the back of Jon’s neck stood up at the voice and he sped up just a little as a small burst of adrenaline jolted through his body.
If he just kept running, he could escape it. If he just kept running, he’d be safe.
He couldn’t run forever though, and eventually he had to stop. Rather than completely giving up, however, Jon held the axe, his only form of defense, at the ready.
“I’m going to wear you. I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. No-one will ever know.” There was a hint of almost manic glee in the thing’s distorted voice as it spoke. “Shut up!” Jon swung at it as a hand shot out towards him. He hit it dead on and the creature let out a cry of fury as a part of its arm fell to the floor by Jon’s feet.
He swung wildly, panic and mania taking over as he fought for his very life against the thing. But, of course, he couldn’t get all of them.
At first Jon didn’t even notice the hand that had snaked its way past the axe, not until it began to pull. He cried out in pain as he felt an awful, blinding agony in his right arm. Looking down, he saw that one of the Not!Rosie’s hands had reached him, and it had dug one of its fingers into his skin, pulling a good chunk of it off.
His shirt sleeve was ripped, likely beyond repair, and had been bloodied up by the exposed wound. The thing had taken so much that Jon’s muscles were exposed, warm, sticky blood trickling down his arm as the Not!Rosie continued to pull more of his flesh away.
The wound itself was ragged, and it looked more like something had tried to perform amateur surgery than a cut of any kind. The blood and bits from his arm stuck to the skin in thin strings, though thankfully he couldn’t see any bone.
In a blaze of pain and panic Jon whipped the axe around and brought it down hard on the Not!Rosie’s arm, cutting it off. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was the fact that removing the hand also meant fully pulling off the skin. He screamed again in agony and fear as the piece of skin was abruptly torn from his arm. He stumbled back as his left hand shot up to cover the wound. The pain was almost blinding as fresh air continued to hit his already screaming muscles.
“I’m so glad we got a chance to run. It makes it so much more satisfying.”
Jon turned around and began to flee as best he could. His left hand was preoccupied with desperately trying to hold the wound on his shoulder so he had to one handedly drag the axe with his right as he stumbled down the corridor, away from the thing with too many limbs.
He was panting so hard that screaming for help was completely out of the question, so his best bet was to just keep moving. However, whether he was walking or running it made no difference, moving around meant more blood spilling from the wound on his shoulder.
He didn’t know much about Hypovolemic shock, he’d only ever seen the term in a book somewhere, but he knew it wasn’t good. If he lost too much blood there was every likelihood he’d develop it and quite possibly die.
Jon wasn’t afraid of the pain or even the injury that came with it. No, he was afraid at the prospect of death. The idea of whatever void awaited him when his life was over. More than that, he was terrified at the idea of dying down here, to this- this thing that was stalking him. It would steal his identity just as well as it had stolen Rosie’s and his grandmother would be none the wiser.
For a horrible moment, Jon wondered how long it would take before the creature killed her too. He quickly pushed that thought away; he needed to focus, panicking would only make things worse.
That didn’t stop his heart from pounding as he rounded a corner, and his eyes widened impossibly further when he saw he’d turned into a dead-end. He whipped around, and as his eyes darted wildly around, trying to find some form of escape, his gaze landed on what looked to be a large crevice in the wall. Check.
Jon hurried over as fast as he could, and found that the hole was mercifully wide enough for him to just squeeze into. The axe pressed into his side but he could barely feel it. His entire attention was focused on the archway that led to his hiding spot.
There were a few minutes where all Jon heard were his ragged breaths and the gentle shifting of his clothes. The silence was almost deafening, and when he finally heard the Not!Rosie’s scuttling footfalls it took every ounce of his remaining strength not to flinch.
“Do you have any idea how long I watched her? Gertrude and her little… acolytes. I hated it.” More scuttling as the thing moved around the room, clearly searching for Jon.
“Let me tell you a story. We can even call it a statement, if you like.” The sneer was followed by a pause. “Though I don’t think you’ve fallen too far into her little crowd yet. No, you’re still marked for the Mother-of-Puppets.” Another pause, this time more thoughtful. “Still, you like stories, don’t you?”
The Not!Rosie’s voice deepened almost to a growl at the question and Jon shut his eyes against the fearful tears threatening to fall.
“Once upon a time there was a monster, but no one realized. Sometimes someone did, and then they were scared, so that was good.” There was a loud clatter as the Not!Rosie shoved aside pieces of old stone. Bits of the old brickwork chipped off in a small cloud of dust and fell to the floor, forgotten.
“But one day a nasty man came along. A nasty man who tricked the monster and wrapped it all in webs and tied it to a table.” The scuttling grew louder as the thing crossed the room. Jon could feel his already pounding heart quicken at the sound.
The Not!Rosie was so close he could hear it’s almost-breathing in his ear. Jon held his own breath as he felt a claw-like finger gently brush his elbow.
“So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people.” The voice pulled away as the thing moved away from beside Jon’s hiding spot.
“Then one day it was sent to the house of its enemy, which had the biggest eyes you ever did see.” The scorn in its voice was barely disguised as more old bricks were knocked to the floor. “The monster was sent there to steal all its secrets, but it was sad because it couldn’t scare anyone anymore.
“Then finally, after what seemed like forever, a stupid, arrogant, woman and a stupid, scared little boy, cut the webs and set the monster free. Free to kill and scare whoever it wanted.” Jon curled in on himself a bit further at that. He hadn’t wanted this. All he’d wanted was to give his statement, and leave it all behind, but instead he’d been roped into this bullshit.
“So thank you. I did leave what clues I could, but I never dared hope she would actually release me.” Jon bit back a whimper when the Not!Rosie laughed cruelly. “I must confess, I almost enjoyed watching Gertrude scurry around. Desperately missing the point. At least I knew what I was looking for. She really isn’t all she’s been made out to be. She’s nothing.” A small scoff. “Even I would make a better Archivist than her. Maybe I will.
“She’ll miss the Unknowing, of course, both of you will, but you’d never understand it anyway.”
The walls seemed almost to be getting smaller and Jon found he had even less room in the tiny fissure than moments prior. Shifting around was nearly impossible, and he worried if he did so too much he’d be squeezed out of the opening and onto the floor.
“I wonder, if I wear her, will I become the Archivist? Rob the eye of its pupil?” A considering pause. “Probably not. Best just to kill both of you and be done with it, I think.
“Yes. I think that would be best.”
The thing was distracted and Jon took his chance. He risked turning his head ever so slightly, just enough to see out of the crack.
Even just moving his head ever so slightly was too much in the small space though, and he involuntarily winced.
There was an immediate movement in the dark as the Not!Rosie’s head snapped around. It took a moment for Jon to realize the gasp was from him.
“Found you.”
“No, please…”
There was almost pity in its voice as the thing started to reply, “Sorry, but this is-” It was cut off by the sudden scraping sound of shifting brick and mortar. A scream was ripped from the Not!Rosie’s throat as it was violently pulled away from Jon’s line of sight.
There was silence for a moment before he carefully began to wriggle out of the crack. It was difficult and for a terrifying second Jon thought he might be stuck but he was ultimately able to squirm his way out of the wall, pulling the axe with him.
It wasn’t until he was safely back on his own two feet that he realized the axe had cut his side, ruining his shirt even further with the blood and grime.
Jon’s attention was quickly switched back to the matter at hand though. Looking around he found no trace of the Not!Rosie and after an instant he let out a small, “What?”
Slow footsteps followed the word and his head snapped up to face the direction they came from.
“I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what your name is, but I believe you’re the boy Gertrude told me to look for.”
Even in the dark, having never seen nor heard the man, Jon was sure he’d just come face to face with Jurgen Leitner.