Chapter Text
Throughout Jessica’s time at the antique store, she had gotten used to working late nights. Her job, especially once Murray began finding those cursed antiques, practically necessitated it. She rarely, if ever, got a whole night’s sleep, though she mainly had herself to blame for that issue. Despite Murray’s (and, occasionally, Charles’s) nagging to go to bed or, at the very least, rest, she always insisted on continuing to work.
Tonight was no different.
As she heard the rain fall outside, Jessica hummed as she continued writing. She normally didn’t hum, but tonight was an exception - Murray was still missing, Charles had gone up to fix a leak on the roof, and Gabby was off doing God knows what.
Jessica’s focus on her work was finally broken when she heard the jangle of the bell over the front door. Jessica’s eyes quickly darted up as she saw a young… man? She didn’t remember what exactly Murray referred to his sister’s kid as.
The… person… entered the store and took a look around. Jessica quickly snapped out of her thoughts and said, “oh! Hi! You must be Quinn.”
Quinn turned away from the antiques that… he (or was it she?)… was looking at and faced Jessica.
“We don’t get many customers at this time of night,” she continued. Taking a deep breath, and after scratching her neck, she added, “or at all, really.” She heard what sounded like a faint chuckle, though her only proof of this was the grin on Quinn’s face.
“That’s me. You were expecting me?” Quinn replied, glancing around the antique store.
“Yeah,” Jessica said, trying to figure out how to tell Quinn the obvious. “Murray didn’t say much about you, but he gave me that letter to mail.” Quinn raised an eyebrow. Jessica quickly continued along, realizing she had yet to introduce herself. “My name’s Jessica.”
Upon giving Quinn a second look, Jessica realized one glaring fact - Quinn was drenched. “Oh jeez, you’re soaking wet!” she exclaimed, motioning for Quinn to enter. “Come on in and I’ll get you a towel.”
Jessica grabbed a bath towel and pulled the tag off as Quinn walked over to the counter, tossing it to Quinn as Quinn approached. Quinn caught the towel and quickly began drying off, though Jessica could only hope Quinn had packed some clothes.
Once Quinn dried off, he(?) set the towel down and asked, “thanks. Is Uncle Murray here? His letter wasn’t very specific.”
She was going to have to deal with that question sooner or later, and yet she managed to be caught off guard by it.
Quickly gathering her thoughts, Jessica took a deep breath before carefully replying, “he… isn’t.” She could almost hear the sharp inhale Quinn took as soon as she said that, and that was further reinforced by the confusion and concern that overtook Quinn’s face.
“…You said that in kind of an ominous way,” Quinn said after a minute. “Where is he?”
Jessica felt like burying her head in her hands and screaming that she had no clue where he was, that she had to run this godforsaken antique store practically all by herself…
What she did instead was sigh, look up at Quinn, and reply “I wish I knew.” Quinn almost winced out of disappointment, but Jessica continued. “He had a line on another artifact, and said it was gonna be a tough one. I told him he should get some backup, but he wasn’t willing to wait.” Jessica paused momentarily to catch her breath. “He just wrote that letter and told me to mail it if he didn’t come back.”
The concern on Quinn’s face had mostly been taken over by confusion. After a brief period of silence, Quinn replied, “…Is there something I’m missing here?” Quinn gestured around, “this is an antique shop, right? You make trying to talk Great-Aunt Ruthie into selling her mother’s Chesterfield sound like a deadly spy mission.”
Jessica took a deep breath before continuing. “Yeah… this is gonna take some explaining.” Quinn seemed intrigued, in a positive way, for the first time in their conversation.
“Well, I’m definitely intrigued now,” Quinn said. “Explain away!”
Jessica stood up and walked out from behind the counter and said, “we don’t have a lot of time just now, but follow me and I’ll give you a quick sketch.”
Quinn nodded almost excitedly as he (Jessica was really going to have to figure that out) replied, “okay!” and was led into the backroom. Quinn’s eyes practically lit up at the sight, though slightly dimmed by the very apparent tiredness in his (again, gotta figure that out) eyes.
“Welcome to our back office,” Jessica began, gesturing around the room, “the hub of our little operation.”
“I’m guessing by ‘operation’ you’re talking about something other than antiques?” Quinn asked, eyes focused on both Jessica and the machinery in the room.
Jessica clasped her hands together. “Well, yes and no,” she began, trying to figure out how to explain this in her head. She had never been the best at explaining things. “See, a few years ago Murray found out that there’s a bunch of antiques circulating that are…” She paused, trying to find the best word to use. “Well, ‘hinky’ would be a real understatement.”
Quinn, again, chuckled, though this time more in disbelief than in amusement. “Hinky?” Quinn said, clearly confused.
Jessica tried to remember what Murray had called them. “Murray called them ‘tainted’,” she said, finally remembering. “Dark magic, real bad mojo, you know?” Quinn still wasn’t getting it. “Cursed,” Jessica blurted out, hoping Quinn got the message.
“Oh,” Quinn said, seemingly getting it, “for a second I thought you were making bathtub gin or something.”
Jessica glared at Quinn. She had to admit, it was clever… but it wasn’t funny. “It’s no joke. That’s exactly what our real job is here,” Quinn looked prime to speak, so Jessica kept talking, “the antique store is… well, not exactly a front - we find a lot of regular antiques too, and selling ‘em keeps us in scratch.”
Quinn seemed satisfied by that, nodding along as Jessica wrapped up. “But really, we’re trying to hunt down all these evil doodads and neutralize them so nobody gets hurt.”
Then Quinn raised the question that Jessica was, this time, expecting. “And Uncle Murray went out to get one, and never came back?”
Jessica nodded. “That’s the long and short of it, yep,” she said. Then an idea came to her. She could rope Quinn into finding cursed artifacts! And there was one close by…
“What do you say - are you in?” Jessica asked Quinn, who seemed almost excited.
Quinn was beaming with enthusiasm. “Absolutely!” he (Jessica still didn’t know) replied, “I am always up for a crazy adventure!”
Jessica couldn’t help but chuckle at Quinn’s enthusiasm. “Great!” she replied. Before she could do or say anything else, the shop door opened, and Gabby poked her head in.
“Hello?” she said, eyes on Quinn. “Oh hey, that’s swell timing,” Jessica said. “Hey Gabby!” She gestured at Quinn. “Murray’s sister’s kid showed up, come meet him.”
Quinn stiffened. Oh no, Jessica thought. She didn’t know. “I go by ‘them’, actually,” Quinn said. After a moment of silence that Jessica felt could go on forever, Quinn quickly relaxed and addressed Gabby. “Hi Gabby, pleased to meet you.”
Gabby waved at Quinn. “Hi hello! The pleasure is all Gabby’s!” She then turned to Jessica, expecting to be told something.
After spending a moment berating herself, Jessica quickly returned to reality. “Gabby,” she began, walking over to the desk in the back as she spoke, “would you be a dear and carry their luggage to Murray’s room, and grab some blankets and stuff out of the cupboard?” She gauged Quinn’s reaction and, upon not getting anything, continued. “They can sleep there ‘til we find Murray.”
“You’ve gotten it!” Gabby said, grabbing Quinn’s luggage and carrying it to Murray’s room. Quinn smiled watching Gabby carry their luggage. “Great,” they said, “I could really use some sleep.”
Jessica heard the door to Murray’s room close behind Gabby and, as soon as it shut, sat down at the desk and resumed working. Part of this was because she did have work to do, but another part of it was so she could avoid Quinn’s likely judgemental look.
I’m such an idiot, she thought, scribbling words only she would understand. They hate me, and I didn’t even know! Murray never said anything!
Her internal berating was interrupted by Quinn calling from across the other end of the room. “Whose desk is this?” they asked. Jessica spared a glance up and, upon seeing Quinn stare at Murray’s desk with an almost childlike fascination, kept her head up. “Murray’s,” she replied after a moment of thinking. “I keep nagging him to straighten it up before someone bumps into it and we have to call the national guard to dig them out of the avalanche. With curse-proof shovels and a squad of exorcists handy.”
She heard Quinn snicker again. She was beginning to wonder if they were just laughing at her expense or if they genuinely found what she was saying to be funny.
She grumbled under her breath before finishing what she was saying. “Anyway, best not to mess with it.” Quinn walked away and replied, stumbling over their words, “will do. I mean, won’t.” Jessica’s head dipped right back down to her work.
Or at least, that’s what she would’ve done, had Quinn not proceeded to spend the next few minutes going around the backroom, asking what was what. She had to point out Charles’s desk, she had to introduce Quinn to Caliope (including what Jessica considered to be the worst attempt by someone to pet a cat she’d ever seen), and generally watch Quinn wander around aimlessly.
When she thought she finally had an opportunity to resume her work, she noticed Quinn at the door to Murray’s (or, really, their) room. She still had something to do for them, though, so, without thinking, she blurted out, “hang on a sec, you can’t go to sleep yet.”
Quinn turned to face her, exhaustion evident in their eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can?” they replied. “I bet I could do it right here while I’m still standing up.”
Jessica let out an awkward chuckle. “Ha ha well… I hate to spring this on you, but there’s something we need you to do before the night’s over,” she said, trying to make what she had planned sound as painless and quick as possible for Quinn. She was expecting Quinn to protest, or sigh heavily, or just generally not even be remotely enthused.
What she got instead was, “anything for Uncle Murray.”
Encouraged by Quinn’s more-positive-than-expected response, Jessica told Quinn the issue - namely, a machine she called the Detect-O-Tron 1000 had detected a tainted hat on Plunkett Street, at the recently-closed newspaper office. She told Quinn that Gabby would be brought along in case a fight was needed to which Quinn responded… a little more enthusiastically than she would have expected.
Once she called Gabby back and told her to help Quinn get the hat back, Gabby replied as Gabby did, then dashed to the door with an expectant grin.
Quinn let out a tired sigh. “All right, fine,” they said, the enthusiasm having worn off. “You said it’s a hat? A cursed hat?”
Jessica nodded. “According to the readout, yeah,” she said, before hesitating. She checked the readout again. Men’s fedora. It was a men’s fedora. “A men’s fedora, probably,” she added.
She could only hope Quinn liked fedoras.
“And I’m supposed to, what? Just break in and take it?” Quinn nervously asked.
Jessica grabbed the newspaper office key on the desk and handed it to Quinn, explaining that she had got the key from the realtor’s office and, upon being met with a repeat of Quinn’s concerns, pivoted and said that they would be back and in bed quickly.
“Well… okay. Wish me luck, I guess,” they said. They walked over to Gabby and told her that they were ready to leave. Just before they left, Quinn waved to Jessica before shutting the door behind them.
After she was sure they had both left, Jessica put her pencil down and buried her head in her hands. She felt like such an idiot. She felt she had gotten off on the wrong foot with Quinn.
I didn’t even apologize! I’m such an idiot!
She had to force herself back to work this time.
I hate the rain, Quinn thought, stepping into the torrential downpour. Why couldn’t that bus driver just wait on the bus and give me his umbrella?
After having to find gas for the bus driver, Quinn was actually looking forward to being able to stay at Uncle Murray’s antique store. The kind lady at the reception desk ( Jessica, her name was ) even gave them a towel to dry off with, and they were looking forward to getting some sleep.
Then they found out that Murray’s gone missing, tainted items were spread all over, and there was one literally down the street.
Now, running on barely any energy, Quinn braced the downpour and shambled on over to the newspaper office, trailed by a goblin ( Gabby, Quinn, her name was Gabby ). When they finally reached the newspaper office and unlocked the door, they had to force themself into the office, absentmindedly giving the key to Gabby.
“The Watchful Eye”, as Quinn had gathered from a quick glance at the sign above the door, had gone out of business recently according to Jessica, and it showed. There wasn’t a single soul in sight (though granted, that might have also been because it was almost midnight), and, as they walked around, surveying each desk, pink slips were littered amongst a good few of them.
What wasn’t pink slips were notes about the pink slips which included, among other things, messages about meeting under the water cooler and what was likely alcohol hidden under the water cooler as well, a pneumatic tube system operational manual, which they pocketed, and a smashed desk.
Under the water cooler…
“Gabby,” Quinn called, motioning for her to come over, “could you help me with this?” Gabby quickly walked over (though Quinn considered it more of a trot) and, without waiting for Quinn, pushed the water cooler over herself, revealing a trapdoor beneath.
“You, uh–” Quinn stammered. “Wow.” They trailed off, looking sheepishly at the trap door. “Don’t be upset!” Gabby exclaimed, putting her arm around Quinn. “Gabby is happy to help always!”
Quinn shook her off and opened the trapdoor. They descended first, followed by Gabby.
Naturally, upon seeing a printing press underground, their first instinct was to joke, “so, guess we found an underground press.”
It made them laugh, at least.
On the printing press was a paper, though Quinn quickly found that it was more of a manifesto than anything. Giving it a quick skim, their assessment proved to be correct. The manifesto called out the government’s suppression of the local newspaper and the importance of a free press.
Quinn put the manifesto away. They would have to remember to talk to someone about Ocean City later.
Facing the other end of the hall, Quinn took notice of two white lights peering out from the darkness. Closer analysis revealed that they were… fishmen. As in, they had huge fish heads and were currently slouched over, staring menacingly at Quinn. They opted to back away.
Looking back through the area not blocked off by the fishmen, Quinn noticed a calendar with the date July 22, 1917, marked with a black skull (which they made a mental note of) and a control panel for the pneumatic tube system.
After staring at it in confusion for a minute, Quinn pulled out the manual they had picked up from the upper office and read it.
Oh, so that’s how you do it.
Using the manual as a guide, Quinn activated the pneumatic tube system and watched as the two fishmen were sucked up the tube and sent to God knows where. And at the end of the hallway was… a hat.
Quinn approached the hat and picked it up. It did not feel like an ordinary hat, which meant that it was likely the hat that Jessica wanted.
“Finally,” they muttered, walking back over to the ladder, “now I can go back and sleep.” They motioned for Gabby to climb and began to ascend back to ground level.
Only after walking through the damn rain, they thought.
Charles Wallace was not typically a complainer.
He understood that his job required getting dirty. He understood that he frequently had to get down on his hands and knees and work on things that hadn’t seen the light for almost half a decade. He understood that he had sometimes had to work in poor conditions.
He understood that.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t be in a bad mood about the things he’s had to do.
There was no better time for this foul mood to surface than when it was pouring down rain and he had to fix a leak on the roof. He tried not to show it, of course, but his unintentional scowl and sopping wet clothes clearly indicated his emotional state.
“Please tell me you have a towel,” he grumbled, trying not to drip over anything that sat on the mess that was Jessica’s desk.
“Yeah,” Jessica said, reaching for a spare towel, “here you go.” She tossed it into Charles’s face, much to his discontent. He mumbled his thanks and went to his desk. He stopped before he got to it, though, as a thought entered his mind.
“Hey, Jessica,” Charles called out, drying himself off, “has our guest come around yet?”
Charles could’ve sworn he’d heard a sharp inhale from Jessica and no pencil movements, though he was too far from her to hear it and was too busy drying himself off to care all that much.
“Yes,” Jessica replied, not looking up from the work that she was currently not doing, “they came by while you were up on the roof. They’re off finding that fedora I told you about.”
Charles scratched his chin. “Quinn, eh?” he said, returning the towel to Jessica. “I’m surprised they came out in this weather.”
Jessica gave Charles a look he could only describe as a mix of anger and exasperation. “I think you two are gonna get along fine,” she remarked.
Charles chuckled. “That wasn’t a concern of mine,” he said, “but good to know!”
Jessica looked at Charles's still-wet clothes. “Are you not going to change?” she asked pointing at his soaked coat.
“I’ll just change in the morning,” he shrugged, “maybe when you finally go to sleep.” He grinned. That always got on her nerves, and he loved teasing her over it.
But an angry Jessica was a dangerous Jessica, and so Charles decided to walk back to his desk with a chuckle. It was a good thing he did too because a person (who he could only assume was Quinn) and Gabby walked through the door.
Quinn went straight to Jessica’s desk and began talking with her about what he assumed was the soaked fedora they were carrying. Once Jessica pointed them to the uncursing machine, Charles noticed Quinn’s eyes raise a bit when they noticed him.
Right, he wasn’t here when they first arrived.
Once they were finally done talking with Jessica, they walked up to Charles. “You must be Charles Wallace,” they said, holding their hand out, “I’m Quinn.”
Charles shook the open hand. “That I am!” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Quinn.”
Quinn looked at Charles’s desk. “What do you do around here?” they asked, turning their head to him.
“Oh, your general handyman sort of stuff,” Charles explained. “I keep the lights on and the water running. Built the Detect-O-Tron and the uncursing machine, too.”
Quinn seemed genuinely amazed. “Wow, that’s some real high-tech wizardry!” they exclaimed.
Charles, who always liked to be humble, simply replied, “aw, it’s nothin’ really.” He was touched by it, though.
Quinn then shifted the topic to the uncursing machine that he, frankly, barely understood, and he made sure to tell Quinn as much.
They didn’t seem too deterred by that though, and they did need to use it, so Charles told them the basics of how to operate the uncursing machine. Or rather, he told them what he thought the basics were and hoped Quinn would be able to figure it out from there.
They seem like a smart person, though, so they’ll be fine .
Maybe the reason Jessica was currently working was so that she could locate the next item. Maybe she was doing it because she enjoyed doing it.
Or she could be lying to herself and working to distract herself from her internal berating.
She still felt bad about accidentally misgendering Quinn. Part of her felt bad, and another part of her was internally screaming at her, calling her an idiot that Murray only dragged along out of pity–
“Jessica? You doing ok?”
Jessica snapped back to reality. Her eyes darted around her immediate surroundings and noticed first the iron-clad grip she had on her pencil. It was amazing that she didn’t snap the thing. She set down her pencil and relaxed her hand, feeling the aching go away.
The second thing she noticed was Quinn.
They were at her desk, leaning ever so slightly, their new fedora shadowing their eyelids. It almost mesmerized Jessica, enough for her to get lost in her thoughts for a second before snapping back to reality a second time.
“Y–yeah,” she stammered, “I’m fine. Just kinda got… lost in my head for a sec there.”
Quinn appeared, if not happy, then at least pleased by her answer. They nodded. “Alright, that’s good,” they replied, observing Jessica’s desk. “You weren’t responding to anything I said, and you seemed kinda stressed.” Their eyes returned to Jessica.
Jessica wanted to move things along. “How’d it go?” she asked, hoping to block her internal berating again.
Quinn adjusted their fedora. “I, uh… it worked? I guess?” they said, unsure.
Jessica nodded. “Great!” she exclaimed. With a hint of curiosity, she added, “what was it like?”
“I had some kind of crazy dream,” Quinn began, “there was a woodcutter, what was me I guess? And these talking trees? And one of them had sinned…”
“You know what, never mind,” Jessica interrupted. “‘Some kind of crazy dream’ is plenty for me.”
There was a slight pause before Quinn slowly nodded. “Okay, good,” they said, before pulling away from the desk and stumbling to Murray’s (really, their) room.
Yet something nagged in the back of Jessica’s mind, yearning to be acted upon, yearning to be spoken…
…and before she knew it she was out of her chair and walking over to Quinn, who was about to open the door to their room.
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on their shoulder. “Before you go I, uh… I have something to say.”
Quinn turned their head towards Jessica. Jessica could see the heavy bags under their eyes. She’d have to make this quick.
“I’d just like to say I’m…” she trailed off. Quinn looked expectant. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”
“And what happened earlier exactly…?” Quinn asked, rubbing their eyes.
Jessica took a deep breath. “I called you a ‘he’,” she said. Quinn looked deep in thought, trying to both combat their exhaustion and remember what Jessica was talking about.
Then they chuckled. “Oh,” they said, “that.” Jessica was caught off guard by Quinn’s dismissive tone, but she didn’t say anything. “I’ve been called that a lot. Pretty much all my life.” They took off their fedora, showing Jessica their black hair. “I’ve been called a woman equally as much,” they added, resentment clear in their voice. “It gets exhausting.”
Jessica couldn’t help but stare up at their hair. When she first met Quinn, she hadn’t paid too much attention to their hair, but now that it was right in front of her? She couldn’t help but look at it.
Jessica slightly jumped when Quinn put a hand on her shoulder. “Your probably one of the few people who’ve apologized,” they added, flashing a small, sad smile. “Thank you,” they whispered.
Jessica lost the ability to speak for a moment. They're not mad? she thought. But for the third time that night, she snapped back to reality before she could get too lost in her head and simply replied, “you’re welcome.” After a pause, she added, in a low whisper, “get some sleep.”
Quinn nodded and entered their room.
Once they closed the door, Jessica walked back to her desk. Once she did get back to her desk, she quietly sat down and looked at her papers, deep in thought. Reflecting on the course of the night, Jessica had no clue what to make of Quinn. Never had she met someone that she had no clue to define.
They are one thing, though, Jessica finally thought, picking up her pencil. They’re definitely a relative of Murray’s.
And for her, that description would have to do.