#legendofgrump

Dan tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt, stretching the fabric across his back as he brought his shoulders forward. The motion accompaniedan uncomfortable stir in his stomach. He pressedhis palms to his eyes and sighed. A quiet ding chirped from his phone and he pulled it from his pocket. It was Arin.

“Good morning, you up for some grumping today?”

Dan replied, telling him that he’s always up for some good grumping and slid the phone back into his sweatshirt pocket. He lifted himself off the couch and went to turn the light on in the recording room, and shielded his eyes with a hiss. After a few seconds of adjusting, he found his glasses on the coffee table and put them on. They weren’t nearly strong enough, and no amount of money he’d spent on trying to find a good enough pair without a doctor’s help could do anything. He wasn’t exactly ready to explain to an optometrist why his eyes faintly glowed in the dark. Or that his eyes weren’t yellow tinted because of liver disease, but in fact they were yellow because he happened to be some type of supernatural case. The glasses let him navigate the grump space safely, anyway.

It was about a half hour before Arin arrived at the grump space, and in the time being, Dan got himself some cereal and changed, trading in his blue sweatpants for a pair of grey sweatpants. He kept his sweatshirt on, not bothering to change the shirt underneath. Danny went to put his bowl in the sink when that disgusting twist resurfaced in his gut. He finally looked around and realized something was very, very wrong.

There were no little lights buzzing around his head. There were no tiny voices that reminded him of navi from the zelda games, begging for his attention. There was silence that hadn’t been with him since… Since before he could even remember. He’d never been without the tiny souls that found him. He’d always at LEAST had one bumbling around like a tiny bee, searching through his nest of hair for comfort or entertainment. He’d even occasionally indulge in their meaningless chatter. Some souls had no idea they were dead. They just carried on, speaking of their children or jobs or daily lives that no longer existed for them. It was as if they were suspended in a dream, and Danny was the sandman. But then there were the rest…that just knew. They cried. They wailed. They went through the stages of grief over themselves, and things they’d never gotten to do. As much as Dan felt bad for them, he never could keep his patience with them for very long.  

Where are they now? What is this radio silence for? A string of hope was struck in his chest, sending a delightful, nervous twang throughout his whole body. His lips curled up into a selfish smile. Was he free? Why now? What had changed? A chuckle bubbled up from his belly, and he clasped a hand over his mouth, feeling dirty. It was such a strange, wrong feeling to be happy in this moment. Another twist turned his stomach in knots and he felt the cereal disagreeing with him.

‘If they’re not with me, where are they?'He thought. 'Does someone else have them? There are never just NO souls. They always get stuck. They move on, but not all at once. Where are they?’ He moved to sit down in the grump room, but he was stopped by the door opening. Arin walked in, a bag of groceries hanging from his fingers.

“Hey dude, I bought some snacks. Cheezits, skittles, some other shit with a ton of calories. Whoa, did you eat a lemon or what, what’s the sour look for?” Arin eyed him curiously, if not timidly.

“Huh? No, no lemons. I mean, my stomach hurts.”

“Oh, should I not have gotten junk food then? Sorry bro.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Thanks for getting stuff, I was running low on skittles. Anyway, what games are we doing today?” Dan’s eyes tracked Arin’s blurry outline as he set the bag on the kitchen table and he followed him into the grump room. Dan sat on the couch as Arin started setting up the consoles.

“I was thinking some Mario Maker and then a bunch of random one-off games. Sound good?” Arin looked at Dan over his shoulder.

“Mhm.”

Arin turned fully, putting his hands on his hips. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Is your stomach really bad? We can record shit tomorrow if we need to.”

“I’m fine. I think video games are exactly what I need right now. Don’t worry about me, man.” Dan shrugged off Arin’s concern.

“No, you look like you’re gonna vomit, or pass out. Maybe both. I’ll go and get you some meds if you need, c'mon lemme help you-”

“For fuck’s sake Arin, stop.” Dan snapped. He took a deep breath to steady himself. An immediate hot wash of guilt spilled over him at Arin’s wide eyes and almost hurt expression. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. It’s something you wouldn’t understand.”

“So you mean it’s something with your uh.. Ability?”

“Yes.”

“You know, none of us have ever been really good at fully grasping that stuff about you, but I know what a friend in need looks like. Just telling me that I don’t understand doesn’t mean you can stop me from caring about your well-being. Weird powers or nah, you’re still part of this family we got goin’ here.” Arin’s mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes determined and full of something Danny couldn’t really place his finger on. All he knows is that now he feels worse than he originally did.

“The souls aren’t around me anymore.” He’s not sure why he tells Arin, or if Arin will know what to say, but the terrifying reality of his words hits him as he admits it. Even though he doesn’t say it, admitting that his life could possibly be free of the little lights swarming him constantly is scaring him more than it should. He’s admitting to himself that now he really is alone. His mind was never quiet, but he realizes he hates silence.

“That’s…. That’s a good thing, right?”

Dan sighs. “I don’t know.”

“If they’re gone, then maybe you… Fulfilled some duty or something and you’re finally gonna be normal.” Dan knows it shouldn’t hurt him, but he feels his face coil up in confusion. Normal? “Shit, no, I mean, not that it’ll make you better or whatever- cuz it won’t! Fuck, not that you NEED to be better-”

“I get it… it’s okay… I’m just really confused about all this… If it’s some "fulfilled duty”, I’m not sure I was ready for it to just up and vanish. I just know that everything is very quiet now, and it’s disconcerting to say the least…“

Arin bit his lip, and Dan could practically hear the wheels turning in his brain. "Let’s play some games bud, and we can figure this all out later.”

Dan mumbled his agreement and Arin sat next to him, turning on the mic and capture, and they sunk into the familiarity of GameGrumps.

“Fuck!” Dan spits. He clutches his head, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. His jaw clenches and he bends forward, head pushing the microphone out of the way. Arin looks over at him, quickly seeing that it wasn’t the infuriating mario maker level they were playing.

“Shit, you okay?” He pauses the game and capture, reaching out to touch Dan’s back. Dan flinches at his touch. “What’s wrong?”

Dan feels the surge of voices in his head pulse against his temples and he feels blinded by a supernova explosion of light. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshit.” He groans in pain, and as suddenly as it hits, it’s waning. The intense pain trickles to a dull thump and the little bugs floating by are reaching for his hair and clothes and brushing against his skin in apology. He opens his eyes timidly. Arin has shoved himself into the farthest corner of the couch, eyes scrunched up tight. He opens them after Dan opens his, staring at him. Dan looks up and away from Arin, closing his eyes in defeat. Despite himself, he smirks. “It was too good to be true anyway…Arin?…”

Arin chuffed nervously slowly bringing his arms away from his chest and setting them in his lap. “Dude… I’m.. i’m sorry but I think I should go-”

“What?” Dan’s voice betrayed him, hinting at the slight panic rising in his chest.

“To the bathroom. I pissed myself. And I’m not joking. Fireflies are fuckin’.. They just spilled out of your hair and I think I’m gonna vom.” With that, Arin shot up from the couch and sprinted to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The room smelled like death.

Dan stood up, fireflies still rowdy and playful around his head. He actually waved them away, which got him some mournful wails. He cursed silently, blinking rapidly at the stinging in his eyes. He got out his phone and let his fingers find the speed dial button. Almost immediately, Ross answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you come over?”

“Why? Everything okay?”

“I think Arin needs you. Anyone but me, really.”

“Okay….? Arin is a big boy, why does he need someone to wipe his ass every two seconds? What did you do?” Ross snorted, and probably rolled his eyes too.

“I scared him. Please, Ross, just… Come over.”

“Alright, alright. See you guys soon. But I want an explanation as soon as I get there. Deal?”

“… Deal… Oh, and bring Holly?..”

“Sure.” Ross’s tone was softer this time, seemingly understanding that this really was an emergency.“

Ross hung up, and Danny started pacing, occasionally banging his knee on the coffee table, but he deemed it a worthy punishment for scaring his friend. A bruise started to form and tears were harder to hold back. Arin didn’t come out of the bathroom but Ross and Holly were there quickly. Both of their noses scrunched up. Immediately, Holly rushed over, grabbed Dan’s arm, and forced him to sit.  Ross went over to the bathroom.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing to yourself? Your leg has a huge bruise!”

Dan curled into Holly’s side, letting her force his face into the crook of her neck. He frowned and she felt it against her skin.

“What happened honey? Why are you so upset?”

“I.. I thought I lost the souls.. I thought maybe I did something wrong, and they were all lost… I don’t really know what happened but they were gone when I woke up. Arin came over, we recorded some stuff and I felt sick the entire time and suddenly- suddenly I felt like my head exploded. The souls are back now, but I scared Arin… He said he was going to vomit…” His voice cracked on the last word, and Holly gripped him tighter, her hand finding it’s way into his hair. A few little souls flew onto her skin and hair, but mostly they had all calmed down and seemed to be clinging to Dan tightly.

“I’m sure it was just some… Malfunction. We all have our issues, maybe it’s something like that for you? Just a momentary lapse between you and them? I’m not really sure, but that’s my best guess.” She stroked the back of his neck comfortingly.

“I’m not ready to lose them… I don’t think I can handle it. If they don’t have me, then they don’t have anyone… I have to be there for them. I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been for them to have nowhere to go.. No one to take care of them…”

“It’s okay to be scared for them. They’ve been with you for forever. You’re okay sweetheart. We’re here for you. And we’re not scared. I’m sure Arin is worried about you, it’s just sometimes bugs can be a little bit creepy crawlie lookin!” Holly hugged his shoulders tightly and rubbed his back before holding him out at arms length. His eyes were a dull yellow, barely emitting any light. “Aw, c'mon, show me that pretty smile. You always look so sweet when you smile! Please? For me?” She used her birb voice, saying everything as more of a command than a request.

Dan smiled weakly in response, wiping a sleeve under his nose. Holly smiled wide, clapping her hands lightly.

“There’s my nice firefly guy!” She stood from the couch, leaving Dan’s side cold. “I’m gonna go get you some water and then check in on those two.” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the bathroom. She glided off towards the kitchen.

Dan’s smile slowly fell, his face relaxing. He sighed and held his palm out, watching as fireflies landed and danced on his skin. A tiny one, a child, rested in the middle, nestling into his warmth. The little boy was crying, asking Dan where he was. Asking where his mommy and daddy were.  Even though Dan had been upset at losing them all, he certainly didn’t miss this part of it… No child deserved to go at such a young age. No parent deserved to lose their baby. The boy kept asking. He kept crying, pleading for someone, anyone to help him. Dan lightly stroked a finger against the fragile shell of the firefly and it’s little light flickered to life. The little boy quieted.

Arin and Ross emerged from the bathroom, one with a guilty look on his face, and the other looking smug. Ross hooked his arm around Holly’s shoulders as she came back with some water. She lightly detached herself from him, rolling her eyes with a tiny smile. She handed dan the cup. He didn’t drink. He simply looked at Arin and then back down at the floor.

“Now hug.” Ross smirked.

.....

"We better make camp for the night."

Ross plopped down onto a boulder in the middle of the forest, dropping his sword and shield lazily beside him. He looked tiredly at Dan and Arin, who piled their weapons as well. "I'm exhausted."

Dan nodded and squatted in the grass. "I'm actually with you." He slid his satchel off. "That dragon was crazy."

"Yeah, just insane," Arin sighed, running a hand through his hair as he started to pace around the two. "I've never seen one that pissed before."

Ross gave Dan a very specific, irritated look. Dan shook his head with dismissal.

Arin was very new to the team. Ross was thankful enough that he eventually got out of that dress and could get by with a sword. He still kept a couple strips of the cloth and jewels around his waist, but nothing too flashy against the combat-capable clothes they had to trudge back into the nearby village for.

Arin was dying for adventure, as many of the freshly-freed captives were.

Especially the pink-haired Princess Holly.

ESPECIALLY the pink-haired Princess Holly.

(Man, Ross remembered, was she something.)

But she was found with burns so bad that she had to be returned to her kingdom immediately for proper healing. Besides, Dan and Ross were a two-man show. They had their craft down pat. No one got between their shaky battle strategies and the monsters that dared to face them.

Until Arin. And Ross knew why he ended up tagging along. He got it. But Arin never graduated from the Knight Academy and still had very little concept of the terrors that the warriors had seen in the last year.

And how the hell was Ross supposed to know that he and Dan would be assigned together for more missions after the Dark Wizard was defeated?

"What?" Arin asked in response to the silent interaction.

"Nothing," Dan muttered. He leaned back onto the grass and put his hands behind his head. "Don't worry about it."

Arin rolled his eyes and kept pacing. "Uh, okay."

The knights shook it off. Dan contently watched the pink clouds drift over the canopy. Ross, however, twitched a little bit with each crackle of leaves under Arin's feet.

"Sit down, Ar, you're driving me nuts," Ross groaned.

"I can't. I'm just-- jumpy, I guess." He bounced a few times off his heels for emphasis. "Can't relax. I'm all super jazzed about those monsters."

Dan smiled wearily. "Jazzed."

"Well, could you jazz off somewhere else?" Ross requested.

Dan chuckled. "Yeah, jazz off, Arin."

"Maybe I will," Arin pouted.

Dan tilted to look up at Arin upside-down. "Do you wanna... Like, go for a walk?"

Arin paused and gave Dan a hand. "Sure. Come on up."

Oh.

O h.

Okay.

Dan didn't show it, but his heart kind of skipped a beat or two.

Ross slouched back as Dan got to his feet. "Could you guys grab some firewood while you're out, too?"

Arin snapped a double thumbs-up and winked. "You got it."

Dan snorted. Ross took a deep breath as they started to walk away. This was less than comforting.

But then, he thought of something and coughed up a smug grin.

"And Dan?" He called. "Have fun. You really need to chill out."

Dan threw back a glare and loosely flipped him off.

Ross knew that he was having trouble controlling his powers lately, and it wasn't difficult to figure out why.

...

...

...

"So what's Ross' problem?"

"You know he gets like that." Dan wandered along a roughly beaten path with the princess. He kicked around the pinecones at his feet as he went. "He's tired. He messes up his own sleep schedule when he covers the late night watch shift and takes it out on the stupidest shit. He doesn't mean it."

"Right. I get it." Arin nodded. "One of the three thousand reasons why I hated that tower was because I got literally zero sleep."

"Seriously? You're freaking royalty, though. The wizard gave you a whole furnished tower. I would think that you'd be, like, stupid comfy up there."

"You're probably right. I don't know, Dan. You're the one who fought off the giant cat-bat-goat-monster from hell that made the most disgusting gargley noises every hour of every day."

Dan glanced up at him. "Oh, right! God, that was so gross. Can't believe he got away, I wanted to kill it just to get it to shut up."

"It did that all the time!" Arin continued, watching the ground as he ranted. "And he thumps around, too, like a God damn goof. He scratches his back on the brick wall like a fuckin' grizzly bear or whatever. And he flies?" He threw his arms out. "Who saw that coming? Why does he fly?!"

"Yeah. It was so weird. And I just love that that's his neutral little sound." Dan commented. "You know what I mean? Kittens have that teeny tiny purr, and it's adorable. And horses and dogs and stuff have their own little sniffleys. But nah. This thing is just like-- GGHHUUUUGGGHHH --" He attempted a terrible impression of the beast. "-- Universally soothing, really."

Arin cracked up. Dan could hear the shining trumpets of his giggles echo through the trees, maybe scaring off a couple of squirrels. He watched his hair dance through the evening wind.

Arin looked back at him. "That's it, spot on. That's music to the ears."

Dan turned his gaze away before he could get too far lost in that goofy smile. "Totally."

Beat. Beat. Both thumps of his heart were loud and clear.

He gently curled his fingers into fists as he felt them getting frosty inside of his gloves.

It's been harder since Arin showed up. Not impossible. Just harder.

"You cool?"

Dan looked up. Arin was still focused on him.

"Hmm. Yep. I'm cool," Dan replied. "Soooo cool."

If Ross had been there, he would have never let Dan hear the end of that exchange.

It was something in his blood and the rhythm of his pulse. He had trained hard to harness the flow of ice, only letting it come out to play in the fight-or-flight panic of battle. It was easy to keep track of, since he usually kept it so smooth the rest of the time. He didn't get angry or anxious easily. But now--

His wrist was getting frozen stiff and numb.

(Great. Don't you fuck this up.)

He rolled his wrist around and tucked it into his pocket.

It had gone quiet. He let his tense shoulders hang down in ease. It was just the birds and the insects and the dull scuffing of boots in the dirt. Though he'd journeyed down the paths before on quest after quest, Arin made the darkened maze a little less shitty. He was simply an awesome, comforting soul to be around. Why did he have to make Dan feel so dumb and nervous?

"Pretty night," said Arin.

Beat. Beat.

"Totally," said Dan. "Some sick colors."

Beat. Beat.

The whole thing suddenly started to kill him as the icicles forming on his fingertips continued to tease something.

"Loud-ass birds," remarked Arin.

"Indeed, they are," agreed Dan.

A pan flute of little laughter.

Beat. Beat.

You know what?

Maybe, right now, right in this moment, he could just say--

He instinctively shook crystals of snow out of his hair like beads of sweat.

"They're cute, though," Arin continued mindlessly. "Never see the red ones like those much in the kingdom."

Beat. Beat.

Dan could probably just say--

Beat. Beat.

He could do it. He applied the good old "Fuck It" Adjustment. He was going to just say--

"Arin?"

Dan almost saw his own abrupt breath glowing white against in the bubble of frigid air around him.

Beat. Beat.

His tone made Arin stop in his tracks, and they looked each other in the eye. The stillness made him feel even more exposed, and he buried his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Yeah?"

Beat. Beat.

He was definitely about to say--

"I think that I--"

Beat. Beat.

"--could do without your elitist bullshit right now."

...Beat?

Arin shrugged casually and led them back into motion. "Sorry."

Dan kept rambling and joking, free falling into the abyss. "'Back in my kingdom, this.' 'Back in my kingdom, that.' 'We don't have lowly sparrows in my kingdom, we only have doves and cockatoos, you silly flabbernapkin!'"

"Y'know, back in my kingdom, we do have Cookie Butter," Arin said.

Dan sighed. "I- yeah, man, I know. I've had it. It's really wonderful."

(Some other day,) Dan thought to himself. (Just not right now.)

"What do you even put it on?" He asked.

"Everything. I go hard with it. Straight out of the jar with a spoon."

"Woah."

For now, this was enough. For now, having him there was enough. For now, the dude-babbling was enough. For now, his laughter was enough.

Even if the ice burned Dan's skin.

There was a small lull in which he contemplated the enoughness of everything for now and managed to calm down his own body temperature.

"'Woah' is right," Arin eventually responded. "It sucks that I didn't have any of it in the tower."

"Yeah, that's total bullshit. Why not an entire tower made completely out of Cookie Butter?" Dan sarcastically added. "I mean, come on!"

"Daniel."

"Uh-huh?"

Arin patted his arm. "Shut up."

Dan chuckled. He scooped up Arin's hand, and their eyes met again. Arin looked a little startled but already amused by whatever this gesture was.

Dan brought the back of Arin's hand up to his lips. "...As you wish, your royal highness," he murmured. He briefly kissed it with a smirk.

For now, the quiet was enough, too.

...

...

...

Ross dragged over the last chunk of fallen tree that he'd hacked pathetically at with his sword for the past hour. A circle of seating and brush cover surrounded a pit he dug for the fire. It sucked to set up, and Ross complained and spat obscenities to the air with every yank and chop, but someone had to do it.

He dusted his hands off and suddenly heard Dan and Arin approaching.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"No! Of course not!"

"I did! I'm tellin' you, it was amazing."

"No."

"Yep."

Really riveting stuff. Ross sat on a log and hunched over, catching his breath. Speed and tactics were his thing. Strength was most definitely not. "Welcome back," he greeted.

The other two emerged from the trees shortly and broke off their meaningless conversation. Arin raised an arm in salute. "Hey."

Ross looked at both of them up and down. "Where's the firewood?"

Arin glanced back sheepishly. "Fuuuuuck."

"God, I'm really sorry," Dan added.

"I mean, I totally forgot," Arin said.

"It's whatever," Ross allowed with a lazy wave. "It's just gonna get really dark really soon."

"Hey, it's cool, I'll go take care of it," Arin promised. He started to head out into the trees. Dan did a quick look between Arin and Ross.

Jesus. The guy was an open book to Ross. They'd traveled together for so long, did Dan think he'd maintained any mystery?

Well, maybe he did. Ross didn't really care. He at least knew what was going on here, and they briefly mentioned it before. He tipped his head for Dan to join him rather than follow the indistressed damsel. Dan obliged and sat down next to him on the log.

Ross waited for Arin to be out of earshot.

"He's a liability," He said first.

"I don't know." Dan leaned back and hung onto his knees. "He's reeeaaally freaking good with a sword."

Ross elbowed him. "Just because the princess we rescue is a slightly better swordsman than you doesn't mean we get to keep it."

"I'd watch your tone, sir. I'm the one with the spooky ice magic here." He booped Ross' nose with a gloved finger.

"Yeah, yeah." Ross shook him off. The one time he was trying to be serious, and Dan was still floating down from cloud nine. "I'm just saying that... Maybe he doesn't belong with us. He doesn't know what it's like. He could drag us under, or he could get kidnapped again before he gets returned to his kingdom. It's just not safe."

Dan inhaled. "It hasn't been safe on either of us, Ross, but it's what we chose. He chose it too. He's been holding his own. And we like him, so what's the problem?"

"We chose to work together, just us two," Ross clarified. "Shit, man, we didn't even chose each other, but we knew exactly what we were in for."

He stared into the nonexistent fire and decided to test the waters. "And this... Whatever this is, I don't think it's good for you."

He was just looking out for Dan, Ross justified to himself. A bitter taste lingered on his tongue from two rescues ago. Dan shouldn't kid himself with the most recent one.

Dan rubbed his face with his hands and stared at the pit with him. "Okay... Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Listen. Sure, I care about him. And more importantly, believe it or not, I care about you."

Dan raised an eyebrow. "As much as you cared about Princess Holly Conrad?"

Ross felt a jab to the chest.

Did he --?

"You really loved her, didn't you?" Dan pegged, not looking up. "And that's what this is all about?"

Fuck.

He loved her passion and her humor and her kindness and her beauty and her gentleness and her ferocity and her wit and her understanding and none of that even matters now.

He was just some gray knight. He wasn't going to be good enough for her, anyway.

He turned to Dan, stinging.

"She was a princess, for Christ's sake," he bit. "And you know what we are? Humble fucking servants. She deserved some sophisticated betrothed who could win entire wars and hold royal court and swim naked in piles and piles of his own gems and gold."

"Sounds like a real prick to me." Dan didn't look up. "I think I'd be the humble fucking servant any day."

Ross slipped his hands into his sleeves. The clearing had dropped a few degrees.

"Dude, I know that you hated to let her go," Dan continued.

"She had to go home. Even if she wasn't injured. It was just what was right. It's part of our fucking job."

It was as if Dan didn't hear him. "And, you know, I didn't mind that you took credit for rescuing her. I just wish you took more."

Ross' mind clouded with memories of those visions he got at night of her soft voice and soft, round cheeks.

He never would have been enough for her.

"We. Can't."

More hostility twisted itself into Ross' voice, and Dan jumped a bit.

"This is what we do. We don't have time for that kind of bullshit, and it's just gonna hurt you more the deeper you get into it."

Never. Never. Ross heaved and kept going.

"I say we drop him at the next village and get him a carriage back, BECAUSE JESUS, DAN, YOU'RE LIVING IN A FUCKING FANTASY. YOU DON'T FUCKING DESERVE HIM."

He slammed his hands down onto the log and sprung them back up in shock when he found that it was finely coated in sleet.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

Ross leaned over. Dan had that stupid stoney look on his face. The one he propped up when he was wounded and didn't want to talk anymore.

"Dan--!" Ross stumbled to take it back. "Shit. You know I didn't mean it like... Not you specifically. Just, we're way below the status..."

Not helping.

"I meant that you shouldn't get hurt, and he's just gonna make things worse if you keep--"

"I got it," Dan weakly grumbled, brushing some slush off of the log.

"Right," Ross breathed.

Back to the imaginary fire that they pretended crackled in the painful silence.

Nothing he could say would fix it. He wanted Arin gone, but after all of their months bickering, he actually wanted Dan to be happy.

Didn't he?

He missed Holly's cheer. He missed it so much and barely ever let himself miss it. He wasn't such a sap.

Genuine crickets gradually chimed into the fake fire's steady percussion.

"I just wish that you had grown a pair and told her how you felt," Dan said.

They looked at each other. Dan was firm.

What Ross couldn't say was that the chance that he might have had, if he had said something, was what kept him awake at night after the visions came to haunt him.

"So... why haven't you told him anything?" Ross asked cautiously.

Dan smiled a spiteful little smile and returned to the fire that Ross desperately wished was real. He needed something to warm him up.

...

...

...

Dan felt more in control of himself the next morning.

Arin had brought back just enough wood to last the flame through the first signs of dawn.

Ross felt like hell.

"That's a fuckin' doozy of a reward for the next princess," Dan commented, reading papers as he walked. "'Black hair, blonde bangs, sly grin and fiery personality.' Kinda personal, isn't it? Like, how am I supposed to know? Last seen in the 'Western Hills'."

"That's where we're goin'." Arin was fighting his hair into a ponytail. The crystals on his sash jingled faintly as he climbed the uneven landscape. He called over to Ross, who was studying the map. "How much further to the next town?"

"Just a mile or two." He ran his finger over their path on the paper. "Then, we're on our own. They could be anywhere. Yeesh. I'm gonna need to hit that tavern."

"Me too," Arin agreed. He managed to get all of his hair into the ribbon and smoothed over it with satisfaction. "I could really use just some water."

"Holy shit." Dan rolled the papers back up and stuffed them into his satchel. "We've covered almost twenty-eight miles in the past two days?"

"I'm sure your giraffe legs are doing just fine," Ross replied.

"Oh, you bet they're toned as fuck."

In the distance, the sky started to rumble.

"No, thunder, go away," Ross whined as he scanned for landmarks. "No one like you."

"Uh, not thunder, Ross," Arin piped up.

Ross looked to the clouds. The silhouette of a large, clumsy, dragon-like creature flapped its wings closer and closer.

"Oh my God," Ross whispered. "Is that the one from Arin's--?"

Beat. Beat.

"Yep," Dan answered. He grabbed Arin's arm and bolted for some brush. "C'mon, hide. Quick."

Arin yanked back at his arm. "What? But I can totally take--"

"No!" Dan shook his head. "I know, but it's looking for you, Arin. If it sees you, he won't leave without you."

"But if we just kill this guy--"

The pounding of its wings against the sky grew louder and louder.

"Not worth it," Dan reinforced, pushing him back to the bushes. "Just stay safe for now, okay?"

"Okay, okay," Arin muttered. He ducked behind a dense berry bush next to an oak tree.

Ross shoved his map into Dan's hands and kept his eyes to the sky. Dan stuffed it back into his satchel, threw it down, and removed his gloves.

Beat. Beat.

He unsheathed his sword and tossed his shield off of his shoulder. "Let's do this," he declared.

"Please don't be acting like a scrub right now," fired back Ross, grabbing his own shield.

"Shh. Hang on, pay attention," cut off Dan.

"Staying frosty," promised Ross.

"Jesus," groaned Dan.

The trees shook in the massive gust from the monster's wings. Staggering back, Ross pulled out his sword and clung to it with all his might. "I really really hated this one," he yelled through the powerful wind.

The monster swooped in for a landing on four clawed feet. It stood fifteen feet high and was covered in matted grey fur, like a giant flying panther only fat, ugly, and a little more terrifying. It growled with a disgusting gargle and bared its yellow teeth.

Beat. Beat.

"I'll occupy him from the front," Dan called. "You go around the sides and get him when he's vulnerable."

"Copy that!" Ross ran around the beast and stood in a power stance in its blind spot.

"C'mon, baby!" Dan taunted to it, hopping from foot to foot. "Show me what you got!"

When the feline swatted towards him, he grounded his energy, focused all of his power, and lifted his sword while backing away.

Beat. Beat.

From the trembling dirt quickly broke through a jagged row of icy stalagmites that struck right through the beast's paw.

As it hissed in pain and whacked around its front legs, Ross leapt for the belly and slashed an X.

A ruby-colored tar began dripping from the slice. Swiftly, the beast pounced to Ross' angle to obtain revenge. Its golden claws came down on him, and he raised the shield over his head. The clash all but made him fall to his feet, and the paw kept pressing down on him.

"Dan!" Ross yelled from under his shield. "Do something!"

Dan clanged his sword and shield together. "Here, kitty kitty!"

When that didn't turn the monster's attention, he ran at its hind leg and jammed his sword into it. Gripping the handle tightly, he tried to manifest the cold and turn his skin frozen and brittle out from the wound.

Beat.

"Dude!" Ross' voice rang.

"I'm trying!"

It was working too slowly. He plunged the blade in further and further, but the frost didn't quite crack as expected. Shit.

The beast kicked Dan off and he went flying. He went far. For those two seconds, he forgot what gravity even felt like.

He slammed back-first into a tree and heard something snap.

As be slid down with a grunt and climbed to his feet, he watched his partner take control again. Ross had slipped out his sword and dueled with the set of claws, advancing and slicing its front legs when he could. He was getting the upper hand, and the beast was getting weaker and angrier with each cut.

When he tried to walk back into the mess, his hip brushed past the edge of a bush. He glanced down and locked onto a streak of blonde hair hiding within the leaves. Arin.

Arin.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

Dan charged right back into the ring. A cold fog formed at his panting lips.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

He swung up his shield before the beast could see him. Icicle daggers sprang from the metal and shot into its shoulder. The jolt of magic sucked in all of Dan's strength.

The sheer force of the attack and the short wind that followed swept the monster off balance, and it fell onto its side with a giant BLAM.

"Nice!" Ross exclaimed. He ran around to meet Dan and clanged his shield against the other's. "Can you keep him down while I go in?"

"No problem," Dan assured him, recovering.

He held out both arms, and structures of ice started creeping up to mount the thing's legs to the ground. Meanwhile, Ross sprinted towards the animal's chest and swung his sword back to aim for the heart.

A unison battle cry of at least twenty men and women was heard far off to the left. Dan looked up and tried to determine what the sound came from.

"Reinforcements?" Ross questioned with the blade over his head. "From the town! Were they tracking it?"

"I don't know, can you see them?" He tried to peer over the hill, and if he raised his head he could just see the symbol on their helmets.

"DAN, LOOK OUT."

Dan turned his head and found that the spell had broken when he was distracted, and the beast was shifting to its feet. He saw an enormous paw coming down over his head and narrowly dove out of the way with a wobbling shout.

No. Wait. He looked to where the single warning came from.

Beat. Beat.

"No! Fucking-- Arin!"

Arin, standing in front of the bush.

The beast had a hungry glint towards him in its vibrant green eyes. Ross, who had been nudged aside completely, furiously banged his sword and shield together.

"Over here!" He called, attempting to catch its eye. "Here! Come on! Fight me, Bitch! Fight me!"

It was no use. It was sent for the princess, for punishment. It stalked closer, and Arin hurriedly unsheathed his sword.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

Dan threw out a hand and yelled, "HEY!" The power surged within him. A coarse snowy wind dragged across the monster's face. It was barely slowed down.

Arin jabbed the air between himself and it, hoping to scare it away. "Yo! You! Fuck off!"

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

That's it. Dan sprinted to Arin's side as fast as he could and stumbled to a stop right in front of him.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

"What are you doing?" Arin asked, starting to push past him.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

"Saving your dumb ass," Dan responded, freezing Arin off with a literal cold shoulder.

He took a deep breath and blew a another thick snow wind straight into the monster's eyes. The howl of the air drowned out everything else.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

Arin was still shoving at him but was overpowered by the blast.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

Dan needed more strength, he needed more time.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

When he ran out of power, he hunched over and gasped for air. Just as he did, he heard a volley of arrows strike the monster in the back.

A holler of victory.

The local army had arrived.

He looked up to see Ross hacking at the overwhelmed beast's side. As it reeled from the major hit, it slowly tipped forward with flailing paws.

Dan felt another shove and the clash of a sword that wasn't his.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

He had jerked Dan back and sloppily thrown himself into the direct line of the crooked claws.

"Would you stop treating me like some--"

Fuck.

"ARIN!"

He grabbed onto Arin's arms and dragged him stumbling back through the trees, through the brush, through the dirt that his heels dug so stubbornly into as the mighty hooks collided with the ground and Arin cursed loudly in regret.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

"It's okay, buddy," Dan said hollowly when they got out of the range of destruction. He shut his eyes and set his limp body down onto the grass. "Don't you fucking try that again--"

"...Dan?"

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

He sighed shakily. Something wasn't right. He opened his eyes.

There was blood everywhere.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

The monster's iron claws had slashed through Arin's clothes and left three gaping cuts all across his chest and there was blood everywhere. It soaked through the fabric and it splattered onto his neck and it pooled in the grass around him and there was blood everywhere.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

Arin looked down at himself. "Holy fuck," he said woozily. "Holy fuck. Holy fuck."

"Arin. Arin. Arin. Please."

Dan didn't stop to make sense. Anything to get him to be quiet.

"Arin. Arin."

Beat. Beat.

He propped his head into his lap and stroked his hair with his bloody, bloody hands.

"Arin. Arin."

Just that.

"Arin."

He glanced up to the battlefield.

Ross stood far meters away, amidst the muted cries of the fight, and looked at Dan.

There was a stillness. No words were needed. No words could fix it.

He just nodded to Dan solidly. Then, he dove back into the heat of it.

Beat. Beat.

(Arin.)

"Arin."

(This is happening. This is happening right now.)

"Oh my God." He placed his hands on Arin's face and tried to smudge all of that blood away.

Suddenly, Arin flinched and inhaled sharply in pain. Dan ripped his hands away and saw the frost spiraling up his cheeks.

"Oh God. Oh God. I'm sorry, Arin," he rambled. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Dan."

Beat. Beat.

The ice faded from his face, but the breeze grew harsher.

"It's not your fault," he managed in a low voice.

He looked so scared. Nowhere near fooling Dan.

Beat. Beat.

Crystal clear stalagmites slowly cropped up around the two in a circle. Dan closed his eyes and tried to clog it up, but he just couldn't control it.

"Arin. Oh my God, Arin, I'm sorry. But it's gonna be okay." He returned to stroking his hair. "It's gonna be okay. We won. We're winning, buddy. Ross is leading them."

Arin curled up and held his chest with another wave of blood loss and emptiness. He couldn't hold on. He breathed hard.

"We are, we're winning," he got out in one rushed burst. "You're the bravest knight I ever met, Dan."

The spears of ice grew wider and taller.

Beat. Beat.

Dan synched his breathing to his. "And you're the loveliest princess."

Arin smiled. Then, he cringed again.

Beat. Beat.

He needed to hold on to him.

Dan quickly searched his own pockets and found a handkerchief. He covered the palm of his hand with it and held onto Arin's.

Arin squeezed his hand.

"It fucking hurts."

"I know it does, I know," Dan murmured. "You gotta stay with me."

Beat. Beat.

The crystalline walls closed in and blocked out the brewing storm.

(No. No. Make it stop.)

(I'm only making it worse, please let it stop.)

Arin squeezed his hand. "Why?"

Beat. Beat.

(Because I need you, you fucking doofus, I need you so much.)

He squeezed it again. "I mean, it's..." He shuttered in a little more air. "It's over."

(No.)

Beat. Beat.

(Just stay. Please.)

"Arin. Arin."

Dan's pleas and heartbeats were glowing clouds in the frigid air that faded too fast right before his eyes.

"Arin."

"Dan." Arin smiled a little again and said something else: "It's okay."

Dan wanted to believe it. He squeezed his hand and breathed.

"I know it is," he heard himself say.

Beat. Beat.

A hot tear dared to pierce down his cheek.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat.

He bent and placed his forehead on Arin's as everything got darker and colder.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat.

"Arin," he whispered.

Arin squeezed his hand one more time.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat.

"I love you."

He felt another shaky breath dance on his skin.

"I love you too, Dan."

More warm tears overflowed his face.

"I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Arin."

He shut his eyes and felt the walls melt around him. Everything was melting. Everything was warm and nothing was enough.

The wind was gone. Everything was gone. It was just his own breath, now, with the birds and the insects.

...

"Arin."

...

"Arin."

...

And the quiet wasn't enough.

...

"Please, don't go."

...

The quiet wasn't enough.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

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...

...

...

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...

...

...

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...

...

The monster was struck blind in the blizzard, but Ross was prepared. He knew what was coming.

He found Dan drained and turning blue deep in the forest.

He wrapped a blanket around him, found a way to get him into town, and got the two of them a private room in the tavern's inn.

Then, Dan woke up.

He didn't say much for a while, sitting in that bed. Just nods and gestures and little sounds. An hour passed. Maybe two. Ross kept an eye on him.

Eventually, he brought up a rum and a mug of Dan's favorite tea.

Dan went for the rum.

Ross sat by his side on the bed, and they just sat and drank. He wished Dan would say something.

Another hour. Maybe two. He wanted another rum.

Ross went for another round at the bar and came back up. And they just sat and drank.

Finally, Dan said something.

"So, it's just us, huh?"

It was a tiny croak. Ross nearly leapt.

"Yeah," he replied. "I guess."

They each took another sip.

It wasn't the stoney expression. He just looked tired.

"I'm sorry," Ross said. What else could he say?

"It's okay," Dan said.

Ross didn't get it.

...

He knew something was weird with him. He knew it the moment he was first bitten in this shithole mini-mall, and it was confirmed when he took on the part-time job of Dodging Rude-Ass Researchers. He still had to forge out each day and find a new spot to cope in for each night. Either that or stay constantly on the move with a weapon on hand that he really didn't want to use.

He had to be alone because something was wrong with him, and the virus just wouldn't let him die.

They are less active by daylight. That's when they concentrate and don't attempt to strike. The setting sun tints the sky a bright orange that blasts through the windows as Dan sprints back to the Justice, three cardboard cutouts of various celebrities that he is just barely too old to care for slung under his arm.

As he approaches the broken escalator, he sees them in the corner of his eye. The monsters. A blob of sickly pale colors and torn clothes that blend into each other. Nothing more. No doctors, no agents chasing after him. There hasn't been any of them been since the big night. At least, not as humans. And he doesn't want to hang around long enough to figure out where they ended up. He grabs onto the arm rail and flings himself up the steps.

His sneakers skid out onto the second floor, and he hikes the cutouts higher onto his hip. Scanning the walkways, he can see much less of the creatures up here. A clump gathers at the shoe store across the plane, a few wander aimlessly about the jewelry row. He doesn't look too long. He doesn't think too hard. He bolts for the glowing pink shop a few yards away.

He kicks over the small arm weight that he had propped up to seal the door closed earlier that afternoon.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters, giving the cutouts one more hike. Did he leave it upright or on its side when he left? "Fuuuuuck."

No problem, there's nothing inside. One of them must have just shifted it in passing. They're too dumb by day to notice things like that. Don't think too hard. Keep moving.

He pulls open the fogged door and stumbles in. Fuzzy, crackling pop music drones on in the shop and blocks out the echoing crashes and dull moaning outside. All of the security cameras are cut at the exposed wires by a shaving knife he picked up that morning. He kicks the weight around to seal the door from the inside and continues to the fitting rooms. Number six is in the back. He slips himself and the cardboard under the door and behind it.

It's darker in here. He places the figures against the door and side walls, and even more shadows consume him. He stacks up the weights and sandbags sitting on the floor from previous trips to the gym equipment store in order to secure them in place. Pillows line the bench on the back wall, where there is a small shotgun underneath (from the outdoor/hunting department) and a mirror on top.

He turns to the mirror and immediately feels regret. Jesus. He's a mess.

His Def Leppard tee is shredded and stretched at the hems from fighting off those things. He feels frail and bestial. His bloodshot eyes and naturally hunched stance scream desperation and fear. A few greening bruises have developed around his collarbone, which he rubs briefly with a wince. He looks scrawnier than ever. A bite spot on his leg is thick with bandages and has left everything a little lopsided.

He nearly gags at his own image. He almost looks like one of them. There's a wild-eyed stranger in the mirror, and he's already having enough trouble figuring out who he was outside of this place.

He rolls up his jeans and looks at the bandages underneath. He got bitten a handful of times before the incident four-ish nights ago, and they blur together now. Then again, lots of things from the days and weeks leading up to the incident blur together.

If you shook them off right away and were as biologically unaffected as Dan was, it was difficult to actually let the creatures hurt you. Really, it was kind of funny, a few times. And some had felt the imbalance in his blood from a distance and just ignored him altogether. But they still left scars if he fucked with them, so this clue was especially surprising. He was honestly impressed with himself for utilizing the proper means to care for his wound and not just deciding, "Eh, whatever", truer to his form. He completely crossed out the chance it could've been the dickbag researchers. It must have been all him. And the bandages were pretty cleanly cut. Point Mysterious Danny of Memories Gone By.

He rolls it back down. Facts. He breathes. He starts with facts. What has he been able to recall today?

He tries to stare into his own dark, exhausted eyes. "My name is Leigh Daniel Avidan," he states. It's a hoarse, crumbling voice that has been worn down over time. He purses his lips, pauses, and listens carefully.

A hum of air conditioning. Static and bright electric guitars fading in and out from the ceiling speakers. The small rustles of his own clothes as he breathes. The short tremble of the oxygen in mouth. He hates that hollowness.

"My name is Leigh Daniel Avidan." He inhales and watches the air crookedly spread through his bony body. "I live in California." Another slow breath. "I'm on my own. I live in this mall. I have lived here for a while. As far as I can tell, I'm the only one..." He smirks tiredly. "Well, technically LIVING here."

Dan had miraculously ended up in the all-time worst place at the absolute worst time, and he doesn't even remember how he got there.

But. No. No. That's not who he is. Who is he?

He turns and sits on the bench when his reflection gets to be too much. "My name is Leigh Daniel Avidan. I live in California. My friends call me Dan. Or Danny. The men in the coats called me the Cure." He laughs nervously and realizes how tense he actually is. He can't shake it. "I have no idea what that even means."

Absently, he starts wringing his hair in his hands. "Um. My name is Leigh Daniel Avidan. I'm extremely Jewish. Have I mentioned that? It's unlike me to not pepper that little fun fact into every sentence that comes out of my mouth."

Breath. Air conditioning. He holds his head between his hands, deciding to focus through the deafening hollow noise.

"My-- I'm Dan. I'm a comedian. I make people laugh. Sometimes. I'm a singer. I mean, I sing. I'm a friendly person. I have a couple close friends. Ah, Brian. Kaiti."

He winces. There's more. There are more names. There are much louder names. Where are they?

Anyway, it's all just words. Absent words. It's just mindless repetition of what others say he is. This is what they made him.

"Leigh Daniel Avidan."

"Danny."

"Dan."

"Singer."

Granted, he loved some of those people.

"Daniel."

(They're jammed in there somewhere. He knows it.)

"Dude."

"Friend."

But he hasn't felt that love in any capacity in so long.

"Kid."

To love is to be certain of the beating of your own heart. It is to trust it to someone else. It's to be safe.

"The Cure."

They're not his. They're borrowed. They gave him these names, and they're gone now. Even the ones who just called him Dan, he hasn't seen in God-he-wishes-he-knew-how-long.

He holds that one close to himself. Dan. Three letters that can't be stripped away specifically because he has claimed them.

But they're meaningless in this place. The researchers didn't ask his name.

"It's the Cure."

"We're trying to help the kid."

Finally, more details trickle in. Maybe he can get through the whole story this time.

"There he goes - go, GO."

He doesn't want to, though.

He winds his untamed mane in tighter between his fingers.

Four-ish nights ago, they made him something else.

The doors had banged.

("OPEN UP. OPEN UP, DAMN IT.")

Some glass had shattered. They had dragged him out into the open with the creatures that disgusted him as he kicked and shouted. No words from the men. No time for words, apparently, except the ones that determined his identity for him. "Cure." "Poor bastard." "Clueless punk."

("Guys, I don't know what's happening. You're gonna tell me what's going on right now.")

Now he feels the words shaking in his throat all over again.

("Stop- stop! Where are you taking me?")

He coils it tighter and tighter until his scalp aches and maybe he can focus that instead.

("Listen to me. Hey! Talk to me! Please!")

They spoke hurried nonsense between each other and held him down hard on a bench and wrestled his shirt off and stuck a needle into his neck and grabbed onto his limbs to keep him from thrashing as they rushed to force it into his system.

("SON OF A BITCH THAT HURTS STOP PLEASE STOP.")

They restrained him. They strapped him down to a gurney and pulled the leather belts until he couldn't breathe. He held what little air he had left as he rocketed up the stairs to a makeshift research campsite on the fourth floor. It was a large plastic tent that was probably made to last but didn't have a shot in hell of actually doing it. There were cots, computers on folding desks, and boxes of various instruments and papers.

("WHY DO YOU WANT ME. WHERE AM I. ANSWER ME, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.")

A hard yank on his arm.

("FUCK. PLEASE, MAN. TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON. PLEASE. SOMEONE. ANYONE.")

He pulls his long legs up with a little trouble and holds himself in a ball. That was then. He's okay now.

He had slowly been losing it the whole ride up, dangling right off the ledge of reality and unable to fall. His mind slowed but he screamed through the fog. It just couldn't cut through. He needed someone to listen. Someone to be human. Someone in the camp to treat him like more than whatever sack of chemistry they tried to rip from his chest with needle after needle, patch after patch, strap after strap.

("Stop it... I can't...")

He felt beaten and drained and he wraps his hair around his fingers some more and wonders if they planned on actually sucking the life out of him for the Cure and if that was why they didn't bother to acknowledge him as anything more. Everyone needs a block.

He knows he needs a block. He has needed tons of blocks from this whole experience. Having his music back would be nice. Having a smoke for the first time in an eternity would also work for him. Doesn't mean he's going to get any of those things.

He doesn't know how long he was under, or if he was at all. He knows that there is another gap in his narrative around then.

He knows that when he drifted into awareness, there was more of that hollow song. There were brilliantly different colors of sky muted through the walls that couldn't seep through. There were hollow eyes that looked through his skin. There was movement. There were voices. But they weren't for him.

Whatever it was they wanted, they couldn't acquire all of it. The creatures got to them first.

Dan hears the thumping and groaning all over again. The world was dark. They tore through. Dan didn't see much, but he remembers the muffled sound. He remembers yelling and a few gunshots with a smear of the same sickly shades of flesh. The researchers panicked. Dan almost smelled the stench of infection and felt it wash all around him.

The yells gradually became weaker and less frequent each time he came up for air. Then, it was quiet for a little too long. No one had time to unplug Dan from the syringe that still hung from his wrist, but his arm was too heavy for him to remove it himself.

Something eventually pulled it out and started ripping at his straps. He couldn't look. He couldn't think too hard. He didn't dare. It was just another blur that freed him from his restraints long enough for him to drowsily suck in a lung-full of air before he was dragged out of the tent and rammed against the wall by his neck.

("God.") It was just a cough now. Dan had felt himself going under again but just couldn't make it. And he was pinned too hard to move.

A cold, coarse tongue trailed itself from Dan's wrist all the way up to his bare collar. Dan only reminders that detail because at the time his fuzzed mind recalled something similar happening to him at some point in college at a party.

But when it went in for the bite, Dan felt an instinct from literal nowhere and kicked it in the junk.

He fell to the floor when the thing's grip was compromised but scraped himself up immediately. He started to wake up. He had to. Maybe. He wasn't sure who for. He wasn't sure why.

He still doesn't know. Survival instinct kicked in when he wasn't quite sure why he needed to be alive, especially when he knew he had a good chance of surviving the bite anyway.

He just had to fight.

To... Be alone again?

He was starting to put together that he was kind of in a no-win scenario.

It was a blind attack, and he barely remembers it now. He probably picked up the first heavy thing he saw (a decorative potted plant?), threw it, and ran again. And somehow prioritized getting his shirt back. The band is a piece of his backstory, he has to hold onto it and see where it leads.

Running, numbing. All he's been able to do. All he's been simultaneously failing at. He had gaps, sure, but in all the wrong places. And most likely, that was from a part of the procedure itself that they didn't have time to complete. The whole rest of that night he escaped is gone as well.

But it still hurts now, in the fitting room. He has a headache all over again.

The thumping continues. The mindless pounding at the weak walls. He tries to think of something else.

What he has of the memory persists. He has nothing else. It replays. It gets closer. It clanks around the store, it howls, it writhes around and bumps into clothing racks.

Loudly.

"God damn it," he whispers, releasing his hair.

A real-time clatter of hangers and a tip of a display table.

The sounds are real this time. A hyperactive creature has been hiding inside the shop.

It's currently waking up with the moonrise.

Gahhhhhhhedoesntwannahedoesntwannahedoesntwannahedoesntwanna

Dan quietly grabs the long shotgun from under the bench and perhaps holds it correctly with both hands as he sits in the dark. The metal is icy and irritates his torn skin.

There's a shift from out there. The footsteps shuffle closer. They sound like a pair of flimsy sandals moving at an agonizingly slow pace.

The gun should be loaded. It takes all of his bravery not to make another peep. He frantically cocks it with a quivering hand, and but even the click is much louder than he expects it to be.

Dan freezes, cringing, and listens carefully once more. The sandals turn and pinpoint his precise spot.

(Nope. Nope. Nope.)

He estimates that, without looking, he can get a clear shot through the corner of the fitting stall, which is still open. He slips the end through the gap and peers over at--

It's closer.

(NO NO NO NO NO.)

CRACK.

The power of the shot hurls Dan and the gun backwards against the other wall with a small grunt.

There's a cry of anger from the creature. Dan's heart struggles to accelerate. There's that instinct again. The annoying voice that suggests, "Hey, maybe get off your ass and do something stupid about this."

"Fuck it."

He shoves the cardboard barriers out of the way, nudges over the weights, and unlocks the door. He won't think too hard. He tips the door open and staggers through, exposed into the lights and acoustics, a naked animal clinging desperately to a medium-sized stick in the vast jungle of predator and prey.

He looks. The creature stands five feet in front of him. It's wearing jeans splattered with brown dried blood. Its skin is rough and cut all over with a molten lava crust around open, festering wounds. It holds its shoulder, where the bullet must have landed, and walks on a slant. Oozing yellow skin has peeled from its feet and hands, and its entire form seems to drip as it moves.

Don't think too hard.

DON'T THINK TOO HARD.

The creature is still for a moment. He takes in Dan's trembling stature, gasping in and out, slack-jawed with a low growl.

Dan sees that the creature is wearing a faded grey shirt with a Zelda logo on it. He sees a mess of light brown hair covering his forehead. He sees his strained blue eyes, glassy and slightly out of synch with each other, sizing him up.

It's taunting him. There's a part of this that's taunting him. He's hot on the trail of something.

Shit. The gears in Dan's mind start turning and another massive cloud of soot is kicked up.

This was a kid. This was a kid with a story and a family and a close age and questionable fashion and similar interests. Whether or not they have ever met (Dan is shakily sure they haven't), they might have in the future, given more time. They might have met in passing at an expo, or they might have became friends.

His growls increase in volume as his eyes turn from stunned to chillingly fully engaged. He lunges at Dan, dribbling at the mouth, and Dan jabs him by impulse with the end of the shotgun.

"Get out." He tries to cool down his own stare and speak with authority. "C'mon, out. Out."

The boy shakes off like a wet dog, sending over a sickening waft of rotting flesh. Dan jabs him in the gut again, backing him towards the exit of the store. He hides his face behind the gun. "I said, 'out'."

The boy's eyes search for a weak point. They're vulnerable for a flash. It's not a blind terror. He's processing. Dan knows he should feel empowered from his successful advances, but something is still terribly wrong about this whole thing. He is sick to his stomach.

He takes one limp at a time as the boy does. Two pats across the tile at once, in a steady beat. Dan continues to clutch the weapon in two very uncertain hands.

"Easy," He murmurs as they walk, fighting to keep his voice in one tone. He cocks the gun as a precaution. "I... I don't want to have to hurt you."

The boy snorts when he hears the click and grabs the gun by the barrel, violently trying to jerk it from Dan's grasp.

"Hey! Stop that! Bad zombie!" Dan tugs back. "Gah! Bad!"

The boy roars and pushes him with the gun, pressing it chest-to-chest between them and driving Dan tumbling back.

Dan wonders of himself what he's been waiting for. He should just be able to--

Dan blinks hard and loops his finger around the trigger.

CRACK.

The shot shakes the floor and rattles the flickering light fixtures.

"I'm s--"

The boy slams down to the tile and wraps his arms around his abdomen, silent. First he glances down at the damage, eyes wide. Then he looks at Dan.

Dan hates that those eyes are not a pair of mirrors. They're windows to a raging storm at sea. The guy is so scared and furious and primal, and on some level under the virus and the aggression it invokes, he just wants to live.

Really, the only reason for him to live is so he can spread this epidemic. At least the boy with blue eyes and deep dimples has a purpose left.

But this boy had unfinished business.

His wife could be looking for him.

His cat could be looking for him.

His parents could be looking for him.

His stupid friends just like the hypothetical Dan fucking Avidan could be looking for him.

He could know that.

He's just a kid.

Dan thought too hard.

The boy wails with something painfully familiar in his vocal strain and gets back to his feet.

"Hey. Hey." Dan stands his ground on wobbling legs. He holds his gun far out to the side and feels his face burning as he forces eye contact. He needs to make it clear.

"It's fine, man. Just leave." He hesitantly barks. "L-LEAVE."

The boy hobbles forward, slower now. His eyes are locked on Dan's. The clouds clear with the shock. He's hurt and terrified but is still drawn in, moaning softly as he lurches forth.

Dan gradually feels the gap being bridged. There has to be someone in there. He's made some sort of connection so far. If he could just--

He's losing more ground. "No, back." Dan's voice is caught. "Look. Back. I don't want to fight you."

Maybe the boy is nodding. Maybe he isn't. Maybe the boy is slowing down.

Dan needs something to make sense.

He sets his gun down on the floor. It's hard for him to see much of anything now.

"You can't affect me. Just try. It might hurt like fuckin' hell, I'll tell you that much." He shrugs and throws in a tiny smile. "But it won't do any good."

Maybe the boy finally gets it.

Maybe the boy pauses and lowers his defenses.

Maybe the boy hobbles away and is happy enough to escape with his life.

Maybe the boy sees that Dan is trying to communicate, and it unlocks the still-beating heart that's smothered deep, deep, deep within him.

Or maybe the creature sees its chance, runs right at Dan, and latches its jaw onto his right forearm before he can have any more brilliant thoughts.

Maybe it definitely does that.

Next, there's fire.

Dan tries to keep it together, but the crooked teeth dig into his flesh, and he feels yet more precious blood gush from his arm with a burning sensation.

"Jesus," he gasps, holding back a shriek. A scratch of tooth against bone sends a tremor through his whole body. He collapses to his knees.

He knows it's there, but he can't do it.

He shuts his eyes tightly. The flame crackles all up and down his arm, and the smoke of agony makes it impossible to breathe.

His hand goes numb and limp.

This would be it. This is supposed to be it.

Why can't this just be it?

Why him?

The teeth bury themselves deeper and cut through more and more layers of muscle, sending in wave after wave of thundering pain.

What did he do to get cursed?

Why won't the virus just let him die?

Why does he have to be alone?

When Dan tries to open his eyes, he only sees a hint that the gun is still at his left side.

His face gets hotter and hotter as his limbs grow colder and he reaches for the weapon.

Abruptly, it becomes a sharper blaze. His head pounds. He screams through gritted teeth. Pure noise. Pure overload.

A thumb cocks the gun and he picks it up.

He remembers the blue waters.

There's something under there.

There has to be.

He looks at the gun and he looks at the kid and he looks at the gun and he looks at his sandy hair and he looks at the gun and the flames turn bright blue as his arm is scraped into again and again like bloody daggers on a chalkboard and he's just a kid and the waters were so fucking clear and all of a sudden it's all coming back. The feeling, the pathetic face, everything. He found something. But holy shit and holy shit and holy shit.

Dan doesn't realize there are tears streaming down his face until he somehow distinguishes them from the blood, sweat, and rancid ooze of dead flesh in one eternal moment.

"I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU, ROSS."

He sobs and jerks at his bleeding arm and isn't sure where he needs to point his shotgun anymore.

This is it.

He has tried so hard.

Nothing makes sense.

Nothing speaks, nothing fills the air conditioning, nothing will get him every fucking jigsaw piece of his mind that he needs to even sleep at night.

The gun gets lighter in his hand.

He is going to be stuck here, alone. Every day there will continue to be a new battle for his sanity, after he has fought with loneliness so long and hard in the real world only to now be faced with a fate of madness in this shithole mini-mall with no sense of self and but a taunt of his integral past and no telling what will shock him next or if anything ever will again or if he'll ever have a chance to see any feeling face ever UNLESS HE COULD PICK UP HIS LEFT HAND AND JUST FUCKING--

CRACK.

"Oh, God. Please."

It takes Dan a moment to realize that the sound didn't even come from his shotgun.

He also has to take in the fact that the creature in front of him has fallen flat on its face and is now completely motionless.

Thirdly, he notices that he's still alive.

He looks up to where the sound came from. "What the --"

A man in a rough-looking hoodie and vest full of ammo approaches from the double doors. He has long, brown hair with a single blonde streak, a mustache, and a pistol in his hand. He himself is disoriented but not badly beaten. He has such a strong presence, even if he's still completely unsure of what he's witnessed.

He.

Is.

HUMAN.

His incredulous squint at Dan (one that makes his heart race with fear and hope at the same time) turns into a panicked look of joyous surprise.

"Oh my God!" The man hurries towards him, wiping sweat off of his brow. "Oh my God, I found you!"

Dan drops the gun and pushes himself to his feet. Words don't even occur to him.

They meet halfway and cautiously stare at each other, both breathing heavily from the rush of the encounter.

"Dan?" the man marvels. "That...that wasn't Ross, dude. Chill out. He left, remember?"

It's all too much at once. Dan is choked by more tears as he smiles and quickly nods. Dan. Yes. Dan. Dan! That's him!

The man has yet to let the silence stand. "Holly and him booked the first flight out to New York when they heard that this shit was going down. They're fine. It's all good."

Dan knows this guy. He knows he does. This guy is special.

He grabs Dan's arms, mindful not to agitate the fresh wound. "Jesus Christ, dude. I can't believe you're okay! Are you okay? Where did they take you? Have you just been hiding out for the last week? And why didn't you just come back to the basement, you... You clod! We were all still making our runs out of there and-- Shit. Suze can fix that one up for you too. Do you need any Zombrex? Have you eaten? God. Please tell me you've eaten, Daniel. We've been freaking out--"

His touch is firm and warm and the floodgates crack right open. Dan lets out a few sobs and clings back onto the guy's sleeves.

"I know it," he whimpers, frustrated. "I fucking know it."

"Know what?"

He knows that voice and almost knows that feeling of being cared about so honestly. It's such a beautiful relief, but something is missing. There's bits and pieces of memory that prick his mind each time he hears his voice. There's laughter.

"Dan?" His tone gets grave. He tips up Dan's chin to look at him. His eyes are intense and chestnut-colored. "What did they do to you?"

There's anger. But mostly fun. There's sleepy ramblings and mutual ranting. There's security. It's in there.

"What's wrong? Tell me. Talk to me. Please."

"I can't remember," Dan blurts out. "I can't f-fucking remember. But I have it." He looks back down and clenches his jaw. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay! Everything's gonna be okay!" He crumbles into an embrace around Dan, who heaves into his hoodie.

He's safe now. Even from himself.

"Let it out. I'm here for you. We love you, okay? Suze and Barry and I would've looked day and night for you, if we didn't think you were already gone. We should get back to them. We're gonna find a way out of this mess together, okay?"

There's love.

"Big Cat," Dan manages in a tiny voice.

"Arin," he responds, laughing. Dan hears his voice crack. "But that too."

"Arin." He squeezes the man tighter and chuckles through his tears. "I'm Dan."

Arin sniffs and strokes his hair.