After It Airs
by Steph
Summary: Weeks, months, years after it airs, Toby's still feeling the effects of the documentary. And that's even before he's accused of being the Strangler.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning: Other Adult Themes warning because it's Toby and I tend to write him as suffering from depression. The first section references taking (possibly too many) sleeping pills.
i.
There are nights when he can't sleep. Nights when chamomile tea doesn't help and alcohol doesn't help and the white noise machine doesn't help and even sleeping pills don't help. He used to be so careful about doling out sleeping pills, making sure only to take the recommended dosage although it was tempting to double up. He's not as careful now.
The nights when the insomnia hits, he tends to think about money. He has a little saved up. He closes his eyes and thinks about the balance and wonders how much of that amount he would trade to go back in time. A hundred dollars if he could go back to the day when the details of the documentary filming were still being negotiated.
He vaguely remembers the initial meetings and would gladly part with some money to tell all the higher-ups why the documentary was a horrible idea and maybe they'd listen and agree with him and some other branch or some other company with some other put-upon, miserable HR rep (because, in his experience, most of them were miserable) would be featured. And they would all be a lot better off.
If he had to be filmed, then he would give five hundred dollars to go back in time to the period before he began to act inappropriately. Five hundred is nothing. He could go back in time when his only faults were maybe blushing a little bit around Pam, maybe stammering a little in her presence. But that was fine, maybe even relatable. In character. He has always been on the shyer side, and there was nothing wrong with shy.
A thousand dollars for Costa Rica to work out. No broken neck. No depressive thoughts. Just the sun and the water and the calm. He would be so relaxed, so cured, that he wouldn't even care that the documentary was airing in the states. His arc (if you could even call it that) would have ended early; there were so many more interesting and romantic and heartwarming stories left to tell that would easily overshadow his missteps.
But the world doesn't work that way. And so he stares up at the ceiling in his uncomfortable bed in the cramped apartment he shares with too many people in New York and tries to think of stories to write that are more interesting than the one he's currently living. He watches the clock (currently 2:17 a.m.) and considers taking one more sleeping pill because he just doesn't care anymore.
ii.
He tells Cathy about the documentary before it airs. Her husband lets him in their house with a tight smile and says, as if they're all best friends and this is completely normal, "Nice to see you, Toby. Want a beer?"
Cathy is aware of it; she had to give permission the few times Sasha appeared on camera. And she knows a little about the office dynamics. Knows that he's Michael's favorite scapegoat, punching bag, whatever. And she's even met a few of the players. Jim used to babysit, and she and Phyllis have met a few times through mutual friends.
Cathy knows some, but not all, and as he gulps the offered craft beer, he struggles to find the words to tell her all. He doesn't know what to say so he finally just mumbles and then leaves. Once it starts airing, once he's shown hurting and changing and gaining weight and then losing way too much, so much that he actually looks ill, she calls him.
"Get help," she says.
"Cathy…"
"No," she says and he can't figure out her tone. "You need it. Get help."
Sasha is almost a teenager when it airs and for a month (the worst month of his life which is saying something) she doesn't return his calls or emails. Cathy says it's been hard on her and kids at school say things and she's trying to deal with it and to be patient. He is patient and it kills him and then one day Sasha contacts him and they go to lunch.
"I'm sorry," she says, staring at her nails, some of them bitten, all painted blue. "It was just…I don't know. Weird. Really weird. But I'm sorry."
He forgives her, because he blames himself for not thinking more about her and how his behavior would affect her. She's resilient though and they talk about school and her friends and she finally stops and says, "Why did you keep working there? You were legit bullied there and you stayed. Why?"
He has no answer so he changes the subject and hopes it'll never come up again.
She brings it up again when she's a little older. She's at his apartment one weekend, flipping through magazines and out of the blue she says, "I was thinking about the whole Pam thing. I mean, she's kinda pretty I guess. But she and Jim are so perfect together. You should've gone for someone else."
He has no answer for that either and, to cover up his mortification, asks who she thinks he should've gone for. This could be amusing. He desperately needs something amusing.
Sasha thinks about this as she sips her soda and finally says, "I don't know. Anyone nice to you. Maybe Erin? She's sweet."
Thank goodness. He laughs because of how ridiculous that idea is. "Erin's just barely older than you." A slight exaggeration, but Erin always seemed so childlike to him.
"Kelly then. Or maybe Meredith. But then I'd have a stripper for a stepbrother and that would be weird."
Definitely. "Sure," he says and prays the subject is forever closed.
It's not. She's a senior in high school and poring over college catalogues. "So, I want to tell you something," she says. "I was thinking about studying psychology. Because of you."
And he is filled with pride for her. Pride for both of them because it means he somehow did something right. "You remembered," he says, touched. "I majored in it. You'll love it. And if you have any questions with anything…"
"No," she says and shakes her head. "Not because of that." She seems so much older suddenly, so self-assured in ways he never was and never will be, and says, "There was so much in the documentary with you that I just didn't get. Maybe if I learn more, I'll understand it. And then maybe I'll understand you."
iii.
He moves back to Scranton and goes back to HR at a new company where the manager doesn't hate him and there are no cameras. He gets a few smirks from new coworkers, a few questions about the documentary, but he's not that interesting and the novelty of him being there mostly passes.
His new coworkers think of him as "the HR guy" rather than "that HR guy" if they think of him at all.
He doesn't tell his former coworkers he's back. He mostly communicates with them online (and rarely at that) through some sort of group chat thing that Kelly has started. There are plenty of rules just to be allowed to join – you have to have worked at Dunder Mifflin for a certain amount of time and you had to have a storyline that Kelly deems important enough. It's so exclusive (as she notes repeatedly in the chats) that he's surprised he's been allowed in.
There's another less exclusive group he's also part of. Someone started it in response to getting rejected by Kelly and has created it under a fake name. Toby's not 100% sure but going by the stilted yet defensive tone and some of the language used, he suspects Gabe. The only rule is that you've been part of the documentary somehow at some point and all sorts of familiar people pop in, like a "Who's Who" of the last several years of his life. Jan. Pete. Some people from Stamford. There are people he's forgotten or never knew. People who have to share their stories no matter how brief the appearance was: a client, a waitress. He kind of likes reading through these stories, but he doesn't contribute here either.
A third group he frequents when he can't sleep. It doesn't matter what time he checks it; there's always someone posting something. This is a group for fans. He knows enough not to use his real name on this one. There are so many people talking about his former coworkers. Sometimes he sees his name mentioned here and there. People feel sorry for him or find him creepy or speculate about his health (both physical and mental). He's always just a little bit shocked when he sees he's the current topic, but they always move on to more interesting people. Michael or Dwight. Pam and Jim. Always Pam and Jim.
He has commented only once under his fake name. Somehow Karen was the current topic and people were saying how horrible she is. Clueless bitch. Spiteful bitch. Bitch is thrown around a lot. He always liked Karen and maybe it was the late hour or his mood after the most recent fight with Cathy, but he found himself typing that Karen was actually very nice.
Someone commented back almost immediately. She so isn't. My neighbor's cousin's friend went to college with her. Horrible bitch even then. Jim dodged a bullet on that one.
He feels no need to contribute anything else after that. But still he reads.
One night the hot topic is Jim. Jim is hilarious and wonderful and sexy hot and perfect and everyone's so in love and he's just itching to write something. He finds himself typing. Six words. He types and reads it.
Jim could be a dick sometimes.
He doesn't send it of course. But he rereads it a few times and some part of him knows it's petty and passive aggressive, but he also knows it's true. He was there and they were not. He reads it one last time before deleting it and turning off his laptop.
He's not sure if it's a coincidence, but he ends up sleeping fairly well that night.
iv.
He flips through the mail one Tuesday night after work. Bills, a menu from a new Chinese food restaurant and a large manila envelope from The Pennsylvania Radon Awareness Society. He opens that one eagerly and finds a magnet, a pen, a notepad and a very nice letter thanking him for bringing attention to radon poisoning and inviting him to their next event. He can't remember the last time he was thanked for anything. He sits down and is overcome with the urge to tell someone.
He doesn't go on the chat groups that often anymore. He's trying to move on and the group with the fans depresses him. The other group, the group that's open to anyone and everyone with even the slightest connection, he just lost interest in.
It's been a while since he's been on the core group and he quickly skims through any updates and messages. People reminisce and share job updates or relationship updates and finally he decides he at last has something worthy to contribute.
I just got a letter from the Radon Awareness Society thanking me. And some other cool things – magnet, pen. So that was really nice.
It takes some time before anyone replies. He isn't surprised or hurt; he knows people have lives. A few days pass before people start commenting. They aren't actually acknowledging him or what he wrote. No, his former coworkers just start commenting on things they've received since the documentary aired. Each one better than the next. Things much better than a pen or a magnet.
It's not a contest, but, somehow, he's still lost.
A few days later, after the topic has changed to something more interesting, he gets a notification for a private message. He clicks. Meredith.
I haven't gotten shit.
And then:
Why do they have to show off like that? Proving they're better than us or what? Whatever. Look, I always thought it was annoying when you wouldn't shut up about the radon, but if people saw that and learned about it from you then maybe you saved someone's life. And that's big. A lot bigger than the free cat toys Angela gets. Who cares about damn cat toys? God, I just want to punch them all sometimes.
It's kind of funny and not funny at the same time, but mostly it's just nice that she took the time to acknowledge him so he types back thanking her and asking what she's been up to.
v.
There are new documentaries on now. The cities are bigger and better than Scranton and people are doing more interesting things than selling paper. The office workers are all young and beautiful and know how to play up to the camera. He can't stomach more than ten minutes of it but is happy that there are new Jims and Pams to obsess over.
The internet is a funny thing though and people rewatch and talk about their original documentary. There is analysis and "Where Are They Now" pieces. Every once in a while, he gets emails from someone asking for a quote. He never answers. He's done with it.
And then one afternoon, he goes into a meeting and comes out to a text. Kelly. "OMG. Someone's famous!"
As with most of the sporadic messages he's received from her over the years, he is lost. "What?" he texts back.
She sends him a YouTube link. It's titled "The Real Scranton Strangler." He sighs and rubs his neck without thinking, really not wanting to relive those years, but he's curious and clicks the link to see his own exhausted face. He pauses it, feeling slightly nauseous, and then hits play.
It's not a long video and the audio is bad, but there's some amateur sleuth's voiceover calmly laying out all the evidence. The "evidence" is laughable and easily proven wrong, but still someone put in the time and effort to accuse him. There are comments already. Many of them agreeing. He knows he should be more upset. Right now, he's just feeling a little numb.
Like many things he's had to deal with over the years, this is his own damn fault. It's ironic in a way. If he hadn't gotten so obsessed, if he hadn't been so sure that the guy in prison was the wrong guy and hadn't publicly and repeatedly discussed his doubts, no one would be pointing the finger at him now. What this YouTube guy did isn't so different from what Toby did years ago. The guy just wants to solve a case, to right a wrong.
But this guy is really, really wrong.
Toby texts both his daughter and his ex, letting them know about the video and assuring them that obviously it's wrong. In case they're questioning it.
That night, as the YouTube video gets more and more likes and comments, it sinks in more. He closes out of the site and goes back to the Core Group list. It's been quiet for a while, but he still sends the link and asks: What should I do about this?
The first comment is from Kevin. Well, did you murder people?
Then Angela. If you did, you need to confess. And then God will judge.
Michael's still alive is Ryan's comment. I know he is. So obviously Toby isn't the Strangler.
Obviously! Kelly writes almost immediately. I knew that too. You're not the only smart one here RYAN!
The page is suddenly busier than it's been in months.
Phyllis comments: That's a good point about Michael not being strangled. But the video did have some interesting theories.
The next comment is from Dwight. Toby isn't proactive enough for a murder spree. Maybe one murder. But I don't see a spree. You really need to be ambitious for a spree.
Then Kevin again. I don't know. He did get kind of crazy. And it was on YouTube.
All his life Toby's tried to be as quiet as possible. And it obviously hasn't worked out so well for him. Even though part of him just wants to close the laptop, forget the video, forget what his coworkers have said and what strangers are speculating, he decides to speak up. If there's a typing equivalent to speaking up, he's doing it in the Core Group. This might even be him screaming.
He watches the YouTube video again and point by point refutes every statement made on YouTube.
No, I didn't go to the hospital when Cece was born. I thought about it but decided to spend time with my own daughter instead.
I was at the dentist when the car chase was going on. That's why I wasn't at my desk. I listened to it on my drive back to the office. I came in late that day still numb and talking funny and Kelly laughed at me.
Yes, I broke my neck but...
I've never had a car like that...
I said something stupid to Clark once. Michael, and many of you as well, have said hurtful things to me over the years and...
The final thing he writes he's more cautious about. Said yeah, he felt guilty about not being 100% sure at the time if the guy he put away was the right guy. And that isn't unheard of for jurors. And it was like one of the mysteries he had written. He was just trying to solve the mystery.
He doesn't mention the sessions he's had where the therapist helped him realize his strange behavior. They discussed why he had focused so hard on the case, so desperate for any kind of break from his life, any potential to be the hero.
Another thing that he doesn't reference is the Pam crush which is presented as one of his "main motives" for the strangling. The crush made him stupid. It made him petty. It did not make him homicidal.
When he's done writing, he's drained and closes the laptop and doesn't look at it again until morning. No one's commented after him.
But he has a private message from Kelly. There are several emojis including a thumbs up, some flames, a heart and possibly a piece of pizza so he guesses that's good.
Later that day, he gets another private message. He's at work, between meetings. He was going to grab his lunch, but it's from Pam, someone he hasn't talked to in years. He figured she didn't want anything to do with him which he understands. After all, he watched the documentary too.
You're a really good writer.
He knows a pity compliment when he sees one and he also knows he's not as good of a writer as he thought he was.
He thanks her. He figures that is it, but she writes more.
Have you ever thought about it? About writing?
He wasn't expecting a conversation. I tried. Mysteries. Crime. No one cared.
No, I know about that. I mean like writing about the documentary, a behind-the-scenes type of thing. What it was like being filmed. Or even what it's like to be internet accused by complete strangers.
And by my former coworkers.
Ignore them. Easier said than done I know. But I'm completely serious about you being a good writer. What you just wrote in the chat was really compelling. And I know there's interest because we were the original season. And it's only gotten more popular. Jim and I still get emails.
But that's you and Jim. There's no interest in my experience. What I would have to say. There is no bitterness in his words, just stating facts.
I think you'd be surprised. Good writing is good writing and you'd definitely have a perspective that nobody else would. Anyway, I hate to do this, but I have to run and do some errands before I get the kids. But email me sometime and let me know how things are going and if you've read anything good lately. And let me know when your book comes out. We'll be buying a copy.
It's a nice idea but he still doesn't think anyone would care. He stands up and walks into the breakroom to get his sandwich from the fridge. Two of his coworkers stop mid-conversation. One of them grins and puts his hand around his own neck. Makes choking noises. The other guy laughs.
Toby sighs and walks back to his desk. It's very quiet and for a moment he almost wishes for Kelly's chatter. He unwraps his turkey sandwich and takes a bite. The bread's a little stale.
No one would care, he tells himself again. Maybe if Pam or Jim or Dwight wrote something but not him.
As he eats, he tries to concentrate on preparing for a meeting this afternoon. Something about taking sick days when you need them. But not too many sick days. Really interesting stuff. The staff will be mesmerized by his every word.
He finishes his sandwich and goes back to the computer, fully intending to return to the HR guidebook to print pages out. Instead he opens up a blank word document. He closes his eyes for a second, opens them again and starts typing.
The End
Author's Chapter Notes:
I came out of fic retirement to write this. After all the YouTube videos and internet articles about my favorite character (and subject of most of my other fics) being the real Scranton Strangler, I knew I had to write.
Steph is the author of 37 other stories.
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