Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You have a visitor,” came his nurse’s voice.
 
It was probably more cops, Daniel thought, or maybe someone from the cult there to finish him off already. He supposed he should be sad that there was no one he could think of who might seriously want to see him, but he was past the point of being sad about his situation. If he was being honest with himself, this had been a long time coming.
 
"He looks a bit like you except for the hair. He your brother?"
 
Wait, what? Daniel shot up in bed, and instantly regretted the pain that resulted. That idiot wasn't seriously here was he? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
 
"Fine. Send him in."
 
Sure enough, in stepped David, all smiles and holding an armful of flowers. So someone actually did want to see him. Granted, it was not someone he ever would have chosen.
 
"Hey Danny!" The camp counselor's greeting was uncomfortably familiar. Typical. He held the bouquet out with a grin and Daniel took it warily. "How are you holding up?"
 
"I had to get my stomach pumped, I have constant stomach cramps thanks to poison eroding my stomach lining, and I can't even eat solid food for the next two weeks." His blunt tone matched his glare. "Why are you here?"
 
"I wanted to see how you were doing." David said sympathetically. "Maybe see if I could cheer you up."
 
Unlikely, Daniel thought as he glanced sideways at the counselor—and noticed that he had a gift bag hanging off his arm.
 
"I'm sorry that you're so sick right now. But that's why the campers and I put together a little care package for you!" He cringed at the mention of the campers as the ridiculously cheery man began rummaging through the bag.
 
One by one David set the items he retrieved down on the nightstand. There was a store-bought card with a bandaged teddy bear on the front. Daniel could see a few different names and notes scrawled inside of it from where he sat. The card was followed by a couple of candy bars (probably bought in the gift shop on the way in), a pack of playing cards (he didn’t even know how to play solitaire), a few magazines (probably Gwen's, and therefore, probably garbage) and—Daniel almost had to laugh at the tone-deafness of the gift—a package of grape Jell-O. He half expected a bottle of rat poison to follow, but the man's ear-to-ear grin told him that he was sincere about his choice of presents.
 
Daniel let out a hollow, cackling laugh. "Is this some sort of joke?" He said dryly.
 
"No." David's grin faltered. "No, of course not."
 
He actually sounded serious, much to the other man's amusement. Was he really so stupid as to think they were actually friends? Or did he just pity him? Daniel was more inclined toward the latter explanation, although David really didn’t strike him as the condescending sort. Self-righteous, sure, but not pretentious.
 
"Look, Daniel." David sighed as he seated himself in a chair across from the bed. "I know we didn't exactly part ways on the best of terms. And that was partly my own fault." He stared at the floor. "You were doing a great job and I was jealous. I shouldn't have tried to drive you off, and for that, I'm really sorry.”
 
When he looked up at Daniel again, this time he wore a faintly hopeful smile. “But for what it's worth, I want to try to mend things with you." He shyly offered his hand. "So, what do you say?"
 
Daniel spent a good minute or so staring back and forth between David and his hand, which hung awkwardly between them. It was a pitiful sight, truth be told.
 
"Are you really this stupid?" he finally said.
 
He did not miss the way the counselor’s voice cracked. “What?” came the small exclamation that followed.
 
"Exactly how do you think I wound up in here David?" he sneered. "I had bigger plans for your camp—a bigger purpose for it—than you ever could have imagined. But you had to go and ruin it. It’s done, I failed, and there’s no fixing it now. So just go, okay?" he laid back down in his bed and pulled the sheet over himself. "Please."
 
"Daniel, just let me-"
 
“No.”
 
“But-”
 
"Goodbye David," he said loudly.
 
David opened his mouth only to shut it again. "Well, okay," he said solemnly. "Feel better I suppose." He took a few steps back, then he suddenly paused. "Is there something specific that might help you?"
 
"Yes. You leaving. We were just over this."
 
"Besides that. Something that might make you feel better or help pass the time?"
 
Daniel stayed silent. David waited a few moments, but no response came. He turned around, ready to head for the door—and then he heard it. "I like crossword puzzles."
 
Daniel didn’t see it, but David was grinning as he left the room. Eventually he forgot about the conversation, but David, on the other hand, did not. Not that Daniel knew—after all, he assumed that the camp counselor's visit would be the last time their paths ever crossed. Just one meeting—done only to relieve any guilt on David's part, most likely—and then it was back to their separate lives. Maybe he should not have answered David at all, he wondered in hindsight. He should not have given David any reason to think that he might be receptive to his company in the slightest. Daniel decided in the end that it didn’t matter. He would probably never see the camp counselor again anyway.
 
"Gooood morning, Daniel!"
 
He could not have been more wrong. David was back the very next day with yet another gift bag and a beaming smile for him, which made his own sour expression tighten upon seeing the man's face. "What do you want now?"
 
"I brought something I know you'll like this time!" He carefully pulled out the contents of the bag and laid them out on the nightstand. There were a couple of crossword puzzle books and a few soft graphite pencils, plus a newspaper.
 
"You mentioned that you liked crosswords," David added. Daniel had actually begun to regret saying anything about that yesterday, but he had shrugged it off, having figured that the man would not even remember it. So much for that.
 
"Thanks. I guess," he mumbled as he grabbed one of the books. David handed him a pencil with a sympathetic smile. Naturally, he was not allowed to have anything that could be considered a weapon, which meant no sharp objects of any kind. However, these pencils were all graphite, and they were soft enough that he was surprised they did not crumble in his fist.
 
"Hey, um," David sounded more flustered than afraid, "Would you mind if I, maybe, stayed here for a bit?"
 
He actually did have to think about it for a moment. On the one hand, he did not especially want David around, but on the other hand, he did not especially want to be alone either.
 
"That depends on if you plan to keep talking," he finally decided.
 
David mimed zipping his mouth shut. Daniel rolled his eyes, but still gave him a murmur of approval. The counselor walked around to the plastic chair on the other side of the bed and sat down, newspaper in hand. He was true to his word, at least; Daniel did not hear a peep from him after he sat down. The only sounds between them were the scratch of a pencil or the occasional flip of a page, at least until Daniel cursed under his breath.
 
"What's wrong?" David set his newspaper down just enough to be able to glance his way.
 
Daniel raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm stuck on a row. I need a nine-letter word that starts with an 'F' and has a 'T' in the middle."
 
"Have you tried 'frustrated'?"
 
"It doesn't fit."
 
"What's the hint?"
 
""Sardonic.""
 
David looked pensive for a moment as he chewed at his bottom lip. "Hmm. What about 'facetious'?"
 
"Maybe. How do you spell it?"
 
"F-A-C-E-T-I-O-U-S."
 
The scratch of the pencil stopped as it was set aside. "Huh, it works." Daniel's face became slightly more relaxed. "Thanks."
 
He had not lingered on his reply, nor was he particularly emotional when he said it—it was just one word, but it still took the counselor off guard. On the inside, David was buzzing with joy not unlike the kind he felt whenever Max seemed to genuinely enjoy a camp activity, and just like with Max, he forced himself to stay composed, because he knew that if Daniel was made aware of how much it had touched him that he would then make a point of never doing it again, ever. At first the silence from Daniel made him worry that the man had caught onto him, but he soon realized that he was only back to being engrossed in his puzzle, thankfully, unaware of the counselor beaming at him.
 
"No problem," David replied as he went back to reading his newspaper.
 
They remained like that, quietly absorbed in their own tasks, for the better part of the hour, but David found that the silence had grown from purely awkward to almost comfortable in that time. He looked up from his reading every so often to check on Daniel, who continued to sit hunched over the book that rested on his knees, hands smudged with graphite and his face screwed tight with concentration. Every so often the silence would be punctuated, but usually only by Daniel mumbling to himself while he tried to figure out a particular word—or the sound of him cracking his neck. The sharp snapping sound made David wince every time; it just sounded painful, although he knew that if it hurt as bad as it sounded like it did, then Daniel probably wouldn't be doing it.
 
Daniel only seemed to do it more as time went on though, and although David was concerned, he figured that he should leave the man alone about it. It was only after he heard the clatter of something hitting the floor that he knew something was really wrong.
 
"Daniel!" He gasped as he threw down his paper and ran over to the bed, nearly tripping over the book that had fallen.
 
Daniel bucked against the metal bars of the headboard, his head snapping back repeatedly as his arms jerked sporadically at his sides. He didn't speak—he couldn't speak—save for an occasional hitching cough that pelted his face with spittle.
 
Despite his scrambling, David did manage to quell his panic long enough to slam his fist against the nurse call button to Daniel's right, then quickly shove the remaining books and pencils away from the bed. Next, slowly and very carefully, he pulled him slightly forward by his shoulders, creating just enough space to put a few inches between his head and the wall behind him. Keeping one hand on his shoulder blade, David used his other hand to pull Daniel's pillow up above the headboard and into the space between him and the wall. After a moment that felt like hours, Daniel's harsh breathing began to slow, his trembling stopped, and he gradually sank against the bed. David put an arm around his shoulders and rolled him onto his side, placing the pillow underneath his head as he did. He kept the palm of his hand flat against Daniel's back as he let his grip slide, and instead switched to rubbing the man's back in large, slow circles.
 
"It'll be okay Daniel," he kept his voice soft, barely above a whisper. "You're going to be okay." He cooed to him as one might do for an ailing child, keeping a tentative hand on Daniel all the while.
 
Two nurses arrived just over a minute later. David gave them a brief rundown of what happened, and then once they took over, he cleaned up the mess of books and fallen pencils from the floor and neatly replaced them on the nightstand. The nurses needed to check for injuries, so David agreed to leave, but not without casting one last worried look at Daniel's back before making his exit—as well making as a silent promise to come back as soon as he could.
 
He did come back the very next day, albeit much later in the evening than planned. That was mostly due to him and Gwen having to spend a longer time than usual cleaning up the aftermath of a painting activity that had escalated into acrylic-based guerilla warfare. When he tried to sign in, the receptionist informed him that Daniel was with his doctors and would not be done until after visiting hours were over. He was clearly upset to receive the news, but he thanked her anyway as he left, sulking—only to immediately rush back to the desk after passing by the gift shop. Since he would not be able to see Daniel, he asked if he could leave something for him instead. It took a bit of convincing on his part, but she eventually caved, much to his delight. Almost giddily, he plunked a plain Hershey Bar down on the counter with instructions to leave it for Daniel to find when he came back. The receptionist assured him that she would give it to his nurse, and was silently amused at the overwrought gratitude he gave her as he was leaving.
 
True to her word, she gave it to Daniel's nurse, who then left it at his bedside table after handing him off to the gastroenterologist he was supposed to meet with. When Daniel returned to his room much later that night, the nurse was nowhere to be found for explanation. That being said, it didn't take much guessing to figure out where the candy bar had come from. He could see his himself grimacing at it in the polished reflection of the nightstand as it dawned on him. It was only while he was crawling into bed that he also took notice of the feeling that had welled up in his chest upon seeing the candy. It felt familiar—a chill that bloomed and settled somewhere beneath his ribs, then descended into the pit of his stomach. It was a mild but achingly familiar sense of dread. Just as quickly as the thought had sprung up, he tried to force it out of his mind, even shaking his head as it hit the surface of his pillow, just as if he were shaking apart a picture on an Etch A Sketch. But it was no matter, he decided, he was just exhausted and dazed from the day. This meant nothing. Some sleep would clear his head—clean the slate, so to speak, he thought as he drifted off to sleep without so much as touching the candy.

Chapter Text

The morning after his seizure, Daniel was regaled with two day shift nurses' accounts of how they had found him during the previous day. It was already embarrassing to have his vulnerable state at the time described to him, but knowing that he'd needed David of all people to help him was downright humiliating. While he did not express his distress out loud after first hearing about the incident, he did take the liberty of scheduling his check-ups much later in the afternoon when he could. He rarely crossed paths with David afterward unless he came to see him either very early or very late in the day. He was still coming to see him on a daily basis though, and he let Daniel know that with a new candy bar on his nightstand every day, left to grow until a pile of them had accrued. He would find different kinds of candy at first, and he rarely ate any of them. On the rare occasions that a craving for sugar struck him, he found that the few he did eat would often reappear, and often more frequently than other the kinds of candy did. He could not avoid David entirely, but when they did see each other, they would usually either sit and read or do crossword puzzles with little if any conversation, although it was rare when they saw each other at all anymore.

Today happened to be one of those rare times, much to Daniel's chagrin. He complained often to anyone who would listen about David coming to visit him, yet he never tried to kick him out, even despite the nurses repeatedly telling him that he easily could if he so chose. They found it amusing, although they at least tried to keep it under wraps in Daniel’s presence. That hadn’t stopped him from overhearing them, however; sometimes he would listen to them gossip with each other as they were switching out for the night. Through the thin walls of his room, he could have sworn that he even heard one nurse, Rina, refer to David as Daniel’s “boyfriend” once before as the man in question was leaving. It would not have been nearly as bad if she was the only one to make those kinds of assumptions, but he had heard other hospital staff talk about him, wondering in fleeting murmurs about the identity of the red-haired man and why he visited the room flanked by police everyday, and wasn’t it just so cute how he would always ask to leave candy for the room’s mysterious inhabitant. Those were the comments that made Daniel’s skin crawl; they were always the worst because no matter how embarrassed he was to have David hanging around, he knew that he was never actually going to forbid the man from coming. Be that as it was, however, he was not letting David keep coming out of any sort of affection or friendliness. He was simply desperate for social contact, that was what Daniel told himself, anyway. After all, going from living with a few dozen people in close quarters to none at all was more than a bit jarring, and save for the ever-changing roster of doctors and nurses he saw, he had no regular contact with anyone who could be considered a source of companionship. It was simply a longing for familiarity and structure that made him accept David’s company. That, and in his current unhealthy state, he was not so reluctant that he was willing to put in the energy to fight him.

It was while he was pondering this shift in his social life that Daniel noticed a sour taste beginning to develop in the back of his throat. He shook it off and forced himself to concentrate on the puzzle book in his lap, but the feeling remained, and it only continued to worsen the harder he tried to ignore it. He must have looked worse too, because David eventually got up and kneeled beside his bed, already anticipating the worst.

He started to ask Daniel if he wanted some water but was cut off by the man retching into his own lap. The suddenness of it made David jump back, but he regained his composure quickly. He kneeled back down and simply rubbed Daniel's back as he finished throwing up, waiting until he was certain that he was done before getting up. He took off into the hallway, and was back at Daniel's side in less than a minute with a cup of water and several paper towels in each hand.

"I called for the nurse already. She'll be here soon," he said as he handed a paper towel to Daniel.

Daniel snatched it away and rubbed it across his mouth all in one motion. "Thanks," he murmured, his reply rolling almost into a growl. His gaze fell upon his lap. " Shit. "

The front of his white hospital gown was stained a rather disgusting shade of orange. He shuddered, both at the sight of it and at the cold feeling of the fluid as it began to pressed against his stomach. "Great, just great," he muttered bitterly, unaware that David was already halfway through pulling his own green sweatshirt over his head. Shrugging it off quickly, he tapped Daniel on the shoulder as he placed it beside him on the bed.

"She'll probably need a few minutes to replace your clothes" was the only remark that accompanied it.

Daniel stared at him with a blank expression. David only shrugged. "At least it's clean. I can go without it for a bit," he added.

And he really could have. At least he still had on a t-shirt, meanwhile Daniel could feel the cold contents of his stomach pressing into his skin. He ordered David to look away and proceeded to slip out of the ruined smock while his back was turned. After quickly cleaning himself up with a dry portion of the garment, he crumpled it up onto the floor and pulled on the sweatshirt before tucking himself back into bed. The sweatshirt was a slightly darker shade of green than David's usual camp uniform t-shirt and was patterned with a series of subtle gray checks. Although it was much too warm and slightly itchy, and it smelled like someone else's sweat, Daniel did appreciate being able to wear actual clothes again as opposed to the paper gowns that the hospital provided.

"That seems to suit you much better," his nurse's voice jolted him as she rushed in. "What happened?"

"He threw up," David said before her patient could even open his mouth. "We got him cleaned up already, but he'll need some fresh clothes."

"I will as soon as I can, but it'll probably take a little while to get 'em. We usually get supply shipments for scrubs and smocks today, and the truck hasn't showed up yet.” She started checking Daniel over. "How long before you threw up did you start feeling sick?"

"A few minutes," he replied, glowering in David's direction. "It came on pretty suddenly."

"I see. It might be a side effect of the new meds." She scribbled something on a clipboard before replacing it where it hung at the foot of the bed. "Let me know if it happens again. Call me if you feel worse. Lunch comes in half an hour, but we can wait on that until a bit longer if you'd like. We'll see how you're feeling then."

The nurse gave him a quick once-over before she hurried off, but not without thanking David for taking care of him, much to Daniel's chagrin. He considered it a small act of mercy on the part of the universe when David declared that he had to go back to the camp soon after the nurse left the room. Daniel insisted as sweetly as he could muster—that was to say, still with a noticeable sting in his voice—that David did not have to go to the trouble of coming back again the next day. Or at all , he silently added.

Of course the counselor returned early the next morning, same as usual. He at least had to come back to retrieve his shirt, which had been washed, dried, and neatly folded by Daniel's nurse after she managed to pry it off of him and exchange it for a fresh hospital gown. David ignored it at first, seeing as his hands were already filled by a couple of large plastic containers. He set one of them down on the nightstand, careful not to slosh its contents around too harshly, and sat down with the other one in his lap. He gently inquired about Daniel's condition, and was both bemused and unsurprised by the histrionic griping that followed. Apparently, Daniel had started throwing up regularly due to a new medication and was put back on a liquid diet, and he was more than happy to describe the ordeal with his doctors in detail.

“-and you would think that they’d know that by now, considering that they wouldn’t even let me eat anything thicker than bouillon until I’d been on the other medication for at least three weeks. Of course I’d throw up! Idiots! ” Daniel’s head snapped forward as he heard what sounded like a snicker. “So glad you think that’s funny,” he said mirthlessly.

“I’m sorry.” David chuckled again, more sympathetically this time. "I don't think it's funny. But it is actually related to why I’m here today.” He patted the top of the container in his lap. "I know being sick feels lousy, so I thought maybe a light, hearty breakfast would help,” he added when he noticed Daniel glaring at him.

The cultist watched as David unlatched the sides of the container, releasing a faint smell of vanilla and citrus into the air that wafted from the short stack of pancakes inside. David dug through his vest pocket until he eventually found a napkin-wrapped fork, then stuck it in the container as he handed it to Daniel. Daniel took it with a hint a skepticism, which David was uncharacteristically quick to pick up on.

"I checked with the nurse already. She gave me the go ahead to bring it." he insisted. "Of course you don't have to eat all of the pancakes now, but they're there if you want them, and there's also some chicken and rice."

He took a cautious bite of it and chewed. He could at least admit that it tasted good. Granted, he had only been given permission to start eating solid food again within the last week, so he was willing to welcome any food into his diet that didn't consist primarily of broth. He did not eat much in front of David, and was frankly relieved that the counselor did not stay very long after he dropped the food off. Although he was hungry, Daniel hadn't been able to hold down much in the past couple of days, and he wasn't about to try again until he knew that it would not just come back up later. Once David had left, Daniel spent most of the remaining day sleeping between treatments. A nurse took his partially eaten meals away sometime in the early evening, and when he woke up again that night, the rolling growl from his stomach made him almost wish that she hadn't. Luckily for him, it would not be the last time David brought him food.

Daniel would sometimes return to his room for therapy every so often to find a candy bar left on his nightstand. Other times, David would show up with a batch of stew or some other light treat to try and cheer him up. Daniel hated to admit it, but the counselor proved himself to be a pretty good cook. He was even careful to take notice of his preferences, such as when he noted how quickly Daniel ate the lemon rice soup he had brought once, and then would bring that dish more often afterward. He liked to bring small desserts with him too, usually in the form of a handful of cookies, a slice of pound cake, or even squares of gingerbread. The latter was especially good to eat after experiencing a bout of nausea, and it was easier to hold down than most of the other things he was served.

After several days of this, Daniel had to admit—at least to himself—that he appreciated the homemade meals, even though the gesture in and of itself always left him with a sense of unease. That unease was nothing new—in fact, he noticed it starting with the first time David had come to visit him. The discomfort was mainly fueled by Daniel's skepticism regarding the counselor's motives. To put it simply, there was no good reason for David to keep coming to see him. Visiting him only the one time would have been enough to squash down any guilt that might have afflicted him following the cultist's near-death experience. At first, Daniel assumed that David was brought there by a mixture of guilt and pity, that he was trying to to fulfill some self-righteous need to be merciful to the man who almost succeeded in killing his charges. It seemed to fit with his over the top shows of concern and all the subsequent tokens of well-wishing that followed. However, the more time wore on, the less fitting Daniel found that explanation to be. There were too many moments that were not so pronounced, when David would have no one to impress with his grace and charity, when it was just him and Daniel, occasionally talking but mostly just occupying the same space together. He looked to Daniel for cues about what to do and how to react to certain things. When a problem occurred, he took the lead in getting the issue resolved, but it was always done swiftly and without theatrics, save for only the mildest of panics, with the subsequent time spent figuring out how to best comfort Daniel in whatever his current position was.

It was the quickness of David's reactions that probably made Daniel most uncomfortable. When he threw up around David the first time, the man literally gave him the shirt off his back, and he had him cleaned up well before the nurse arrived. He paid attention to what candies Daniel did and did not eat, and brought him more of the ones he seemed to like. He brought harder crossword puzzles for Daniel to do after he finished the first few books he gave him. He was curiously tight-lipped, asking next to nothing about the cult or about Daniel's personal life, and asking for nothing in return for his time or for his gifts. He was too charitable, too eager to please, and too focused on Daniel. It was all way too suspicious—too close in resemblance to the tactics the cult had used.

Daniel could barely remember when he was first indoctrinated into the organization in any clear detail. He had only a few faint, early memories—blurred by time and high-pressured steam—but what he did retain of that early period were mostly images of charity and kindness. Charity and kindness that seemed genuine, without any need for recompense, up until the moment he realized that he was snared. His parents had fallen for it easily, eager to accept the hands that reached out when they had fallen on hard times. And they were so grateful for the aid that, much later, they would gladly return the favor by committing their burgeoning family to aiding the organization's cause. From just a few sweet gestures and honeyed words came loyal purifiers, eager to cleanse the world of its toxic existence. He would later learn the proper term for it, “love bombing” , but he was already intimately familiar with the act long before he heard about it in any clinical context. He was already well aware that no kindness was ever free.

And with that in mind, chances were good that David's many gestures of supposed goodwill belied something else, some request or role that he wanted fulfilled by Daniel. Whether that thing was an actual favor or simply a sense of smug satisfaction at his own graciousness, or something else entirely, Daniel decided that he was not about to give it to him. David could pick at him all he wanted, but no matter how many meals he brought or how many sickly sweet smiles he threw his way, Daniel vowed as he laid in bed, staring at his dull reflection in the darkened window of his room, that he would not allow himself to be fooled. Willingly or not, he thought as he fell into an uncertain sleep, he would never let himself become a tool for anyone.

Chapter Text

The next time Daniel saw David would be late in the afternoon. He woke up tired that morning, with his reflections on David's motives from the previous night still fresh in his mind. From the minute he opened his eyes his morning was a whirlwind of checkups, getting handed off from doctor to doctor, and getting pricked and prodded until all he wanted to do was find a secluded place to go back to sleep. For once though, he was actually hoping to see David—to observe him through fresh eyes and try to figure him out from a new angle. He waited for him to show up through the afternoon, but it was not until the sun had just begun to dip below the horizon that a nurse finally informed him that he had a visitor. David stepped into the room with a smile and a container of food under his arm, just like usual. He asked Daniel the usual round of questions about how he was holding up, and seemed unfazed by the sparse replies he received.

"Since you said your stomach's been doing better lately, I thought I'd bring over some cupcakes." He took off the lid to reveal four cupcakes topped with sprinkle-encrusted gobs of brown frosting. They were so messily presented that it came as no surprise to Daniel to learn that the campers had made them earlier that day. David offered one to him, and when Daniel did not take it, he simply shrugged and grabbed one for himself as he set the container on the nightstand. He did not appear to take notice of just how quiet Daniel was being, nor his dour expression. Conversely, David seemed more excited than usual, about what exactly, Daniel could not tell. He listened as David rambled at length about the campers, as he usually did, but could figure nothing out as to what was on his mind. He could not read him, and that only made him more suspicious.

"The kids ask about you sometimes," David remarked in the middle of yet another anecdote about what ridiculous thing the campers had done today. "Especially Space Kid. He even asked me if he could come see you sometime. Of course I wouldn't spring him on you without asking first."

Daniel smirked. "Why would you think you needed to ask? You didn't ask permission before you started showing up."

"Well, no." He actually sounded a little embarrassed to have it pointed out to him. "But I figured you would have kicked me out by now if my coming here really bothered you."

Daniel cringed beneath his silence, still smiling. David either ignored or simply did not notice how strained that smile was as he kept talking. "You know, I really do appreciate that you let me stay here, Daniel," he said.

"Well, you did invite yourself over."

"Yeah, I suppose I did," he chuckled. "But I'm glad that even after everything, that we can still be friends. That you were still willing to try. So thank you, Daniel." He sounded so bashful, so convinced of what he was saying. Daniel scoffed, Yeah right.

"What makes you think we're friends?"

It was only the faintest of changes in his face, but David looked stricken despite his ever-present smile. "What?"

"I think you heard me." Daniel cracked his neck with a jolt that made the counselor wince. "Now why on earth would I be friends with you ?"

"Um, well," David stammered, "Because-"

"Because what, David? Because you invited yourself over—and kept doing it—even though I told you to leave the minute you came through the door that first time? Because you brought me a few presents to make yourself feel less guilty about what happened to me?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Because you just felt so bad about hurting the new guy—who would never hurt anyone—who all the kids just loved—because they loved him more than you?"

Daniel was laughing now, basking in the way the color drained from David's face. He had called him out. David was caught—he had no retort, and Daniel loved it.

"Come on, don't tell me you honestly still believe they were just "ragging on the new guy"? After everything you saw—the sauna, the punch, the testimonies —were you really not able to put two and two together?” His voice dripped with an awful sort of delight. “The kids telling you I was in a cult, David, they were telling the truth. They were telling the truth and you didn't believe them until I already had them right where I needed them." He barely stifled a chuckle. "And the worst part is that you didn't even confront me about it because you were worried about them, did you? You just didn't want to be outdone." David's face flushed. Daniel could see that his knuckles were clenched white at his sides, but he just continued to laugh, cutting him off with laughter again before he could speak. "After every complaint those kids gave you, after I wasn't even bothering to hide what I was doing anymore, that the last straw was a blow to your ego of all things— hah! —it's just rich!" He nudged a stray tear from his eye. "Tell me, are you really that naive, or did you just not give a shit what happened to those kids? I guess you really didn't if-"

" THAT IS ENOUGH! " The sudden shout was punctuated by the slam of David’s fist against the top of the nightstand.

It was jarring enough to shut Daniel up. The room was silent for a minute. Then two. Then three. Even the routine noises of the hospital beyond the walls seemed to fade around them as the seconds ticked by in slow motion. Finally, David let out a huff, still flushed in the face and clenching his fists as he opened his mouth.

"I have been trying to be patient, I have been trying to be sympathetic, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt." He would not look at Daniel. "I thought maybe I could at least give you an ally even if I couldn't give you a friend, because I believed that even with all the absolutely horrible things you've done, that you deserve to have at least one person in your corner."

Now Daniel looked stricken. He had no retort—his brain could not keep his thoughts coherent enough for him to string one together.

"Daniel."

He could feel a lump forming in his throat. "What?"

David turned to him very slowly, with a cool and steely expression that felt absurdly out of character for the normally cheery camp counselor. Daniel would have laughed if he was not so unnerved by it.

"I know that you don't really like me," David said. "And I know that you hurt people. And frankly, why would anyone want to be around somebody like that?" Despite how angry his words were, his voice was completely calm. "Except that's how people like you are made, Daniel. You lie and use people, and that way no one ever gets close enough to know how you really feel. No one can hurt you, but no one can really help you either. So you just get worse and worse until somebody finally gets hurt." He sighed and his tone slid from raw anger into something softer, something more clearly hurt. "You really think I don't know what you tried to do to me? To my campers? I came here because I had forgiven you for that. I read about you in the newspaper after the fact. I know you were raised in a cult. That you weren't allowed to learn anything different. I thought that if you realized just what you had done, then you would be able to change."

Daniel watched from his bed as David headed for the door. "And as much as I want to believe otherwise, I'm honestly not sure if you can."

David did not slam the door on his way out. He did not scream or threaten him. He was as polite and collected as one could be in that situation—and that he was so calm about it made Daniel's already weak stomach churn. He was mostly just trying to get a rise out of David. He figured the counselor would snap, that he would cry or pitch a fit, and then maybe he would finally give up. Daniel never thought that this would be how David gave up on him, much less that it would actually make him feel the least bit upset.

David did not show up the next day. Or the day after that. Pretty soon a week had come and gone without any visitors. Daniel occupied himself as best he could. He ate his meals and took his medication without complaint. He attended physical therapy and checkups. He filled every puzzle book he had. He he read the newspaper every day, he read and reread all of the dog-eared books that the nurses brought him, and he even read every trashy magazine in the waiting room rack. However, none of it was able to put his mind at ease. He felt so stupid—why was he so bent out of shape about this? Why did he care what David of all people thought of him? He was never really his friend—he was a nuisance, and at best he had been someone to subvert and use.

Right?

Although Daniel kept repeating this to himself, his memories painted a very different picture—of crossword puzzles, and candy bars, and the stack of empty food containers on his nightstand. He thought of David going on and on about how great his campers were, no matter how exhausted they clearly made him. David making sure that he did not hurt himself when he was having a seizure. David bringing him homemade food and clean clothes after his medication made him throw up. Even while they were still at the camp, well before his ruse was discovered, David had been nothing but welcoming and friendly to Daniel. As much as Daniel hated to admit it—and boy did he hate it—despite having given David plenty of reason to loathe him, the man had been nothing but compassionate toward him. The man was the living definition of "killing with kindness"—and Daniel felt himself steadily losing to the tactic.

A glimmer of hope finally came a week after he had last seen the counselor, and in the most surprising package he could have imagined, when he was woken up by a nurse not even half an hour before she ushered in three familiar visitors.

Max was the first to move, striding toward the bed only to stop a foot short of it. When he noticed everyone waiting for him to keep moving, he was blunt. "I'm not getting any closer to him.”

Space Kid, on the other hand, was the complete opposite, running up to Daniel's bedside and hugging him quickly before the nurse could pull him off. Max glared daggers at Daniel before throwing something toward him, eliciting a flinch from the former cultist.

"Relax." He interrupted the nurse as she began to scold him. "It's just a Beanie Baby. David wanted you to have it."

He ushered a trembling Neil out from behind him. The lanky boy was holding a black case about half his size. Very carefully, he stood it up against the nightstand.

"It's your violin. We still had it. David meant to give it back a while ago, but he said he forgot. Figured we should get it out of the camp so that he would stop looking sad every time he passed by it." Max noticed Daniel's incredulous expression. "What's the matter? Surprised someone actually gives two fucks about you?"

Neil started to warn, him but Max hardly noticed as he cut him off. "Seriously, do you have any idea how worried that idiot was about you? Even after all the fucked up shit you did? Look, I know David's pretty annoying. He's overbearing, obnoxiously happy all the time, never shuts up, and when he screams he sounds like a dog whistle," he trailed off, counting David's flaws off on his fingers. "But for whatever reason, he cared about what happened to your sorry ass. And you hurt his feelings bad enough to make him mope around the camp all week with this stupid look on his face!" He demonstrated with a comically sad expression. "I've got to live with that for two more months, asshole!"

Max rushed toward the bed, but Neil and Space Kid yanked him back by his arms. He protested as he wriggled angrily in their grip, keeping his furiously furrowed eyes locked on Daniel's all the while. "Screw you, Daniel! Screw you!" he barked. "You didn't deserve a damn thing from David! You didn't deserve anything he gave you!"

"I know!" he blurted suddenly.

Max fell silent. Everyone did as all eyes fell on Daniel. He scrunched up his shoulders, letting his head fall between them.

"I know," he repeated more quietly. "And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I'm sorry."

The trio was struck dumb. None of them tried to reply; they simply backed away slowly as the nurse ushered them out of the room. She came back briefly after showing them out, but left again upon assessing that Daniel was unharmed, leaving him completely alone with his presents from David.

He honestly thought that he would never see his violin again. He struggled to lift the case up onto his lap. Resting it on his knees, he flipped open the latches and gaped at the sight of the instrument. It was freshly polished and gleaming, looking almost like new. The bow had even been restrung, which it had needed for quite a while. He could only stare at it for several minutes in slight awe of the good condition before he forced himself to put it back. He shifted his weight slightly as he set the case back down, causing the stuffed animal to fall against his side from where it rested on the blanket. He hadn't even looked at the thing yet. It was plain to look at, just a small, white teddy bear with a yellow ribbon around its neck. David probably got it at the hospital gift shop. Although it was only about eight inches tall, it took up both of Daniel's cupped hands. The black beaded eyes shone with the image of his own face, which looked so small reflected in them, he thought as he clutched it to his chest, trembling. He was alone now, and he could feel far too many emotions swirling in his brain at once—they were growing louder now too, like static that he couldn’t turn off. He wanted to squash them down—to do what he had always done when those negative feelings washed over him—but he was alone now. There was nobody to see him struggle, nobody to offer a helping hand, nobody to open the door to an echo-filled sauna.

This is all David’s fault, he thought bitterly. If David had never started showing up, then Daniel wouldn’t be feeling like this. Sure, he still would have been stuck in the hospital, but at least he wouldn’t have been dealing with all these negative emotions rattling around in his skull. Daniel tightly gripped the stuffed animal in his hand as he pictured David’s face as he last saw it, marred with anger that had simmered down into calm disappointment. What right did David think he had to look down on him, to think that he could wound him? So what if he’s disappointed? Daniel thought, I was right. I was right all along! He left as soon as he knew that he couldn’t get any more gratification from me. Everything he did for me was meaningless! I was right! It all means-

“ Fucking nothing! ” Daniel’s voice echoed through the room as the stuffed bear sailed through the air, hitting the wall opposite him with a muffled slam before it fell limply to the floor.

Daniel huffed as he balled his hands up at his sides. This was all ridiculous. He was done thinking about that idiot counselor and his self-serving attempt to ruffle him. Daniel had told himself he would never let himself be used again, and he did just that. He saw through the act and called the man out, so why didn’t he feel satisfied by it? He had seen through the threat, through the toxic influence. He had prevailed, so why were these negative feelings still enveloping him?

“Damn it,” he muttered. He repeated himself, over and over again, unmoving for a long time as he listened to his own angry voice bounce back at him. The more the echo faded, however, the more lost he sounded to himself, and the more he hated it.

Near the end of the day he was accompanied by a couple of nurses, who he didn’t respond to even despite their questions as to where David had gone so soon. Shrugging off his sullen demeanor, they put him through the usual roster of tests and checkups before letting him shuffle off to bed at the end of the night. He fell asleep facing the window, squinting into the inky blackness that hovered over the lights of the buildings that spanned the view. There wasn’t a star in the sky as far as he could tell, not even so much as a plane passing by. He kept looking on into that solid blackness as he finally started to doze off, all the while silently hoping that the sight of the unblemished sky would inspire a pure, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week seemed to go by in slow motion for Daniel. He completed his routines like clockwork, without fuss or much interest at all. Although his health was apparently improving, he still felt like shit. He had stowed his presents away beneath the bed—all of them except for his violin. It was not yet reacclimated to being played, and he was rusty after so many weeks without practice, so he did not sound particularly good when he tried, but even so, he was glad to feel its weight on his shoulder again.

One morning, he decided to take it out as soon as he woke up, hoping to get in some practice before his physical therapy made him too tired to try. Although his grogginess certainly didn't help him any, he did still manage to turn a few strained notes into something more pleasant than not. It was a short melody cobbled together from various warm-ups and the easiest songs that he could recall at the moment, nothing fancy or even particularly good—which made the applause he heard as he finished even more surprising.

"You sounded good," he heard a familiar voice say.

When he looked up, sure enough, there was David standing in the doorway, clapping for him. He wore a small smile that was more content than cheerful, unlike his usual chipper expression.

Daniel set the violin down on the bed. "David."

"Daniel," he replied. His eyes kept shifting toward the floor. "How've you been doing?"

"I'm alive," he muttered. "Thanks for taking care of my violin."

"You're welcome. Sorry I held onto it for so long."

They each wanted to say something, but neither made a move to speak first. They were both apprehensive, but the silence in the tiny room was getting excruciating.

"David I-"

"No, Daniel, please. Let me," David punctuated his words with a sharp intake of air. "I'm sorry. Max told me what you said, and it got me thinking. I was angry, but I shouldn't have just stopped coming like I did. Especially because you were—you were right. You had me pegged and I didn't want to admit it. I treated the campers like they were just giving you a hard time, I didn't listen to them trying to warn me because I didn't want to believe it. But I should have. I actually apologized to all of them after I left here before. And I owe you an apology too, for yelling at you, and for leaving so suddenly."

Daniel did not reply, mostly because he just wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t expected David to come back at all, and he had not actually planned to relay anything to him when Max and the other kids showed up. The apology just slipped out when Max was shouting at him. He didn’t really mean it—or at least, he wasn’t sure if he did. He had gone back and forth about the exchange a lot over the past week, and sure, maybe he had been too harsh, but he had also been trying to push David’s buttons at the time. He had wanted to hurt him. He only regretted it at all with the arrival of hindsight.

He thought about this for several minutes, nearly ignoring the man who was watching him expectantly. When the silence stretched on, David spoke up instead. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that. I can't stay long. There are some-" He paused for a second. "Some people in the hall waiting to see you. I don't know if they're with the police or who else, but they told me I needed to be out in ten minutes."

He did not see the other man jolt as he turned around, but Daniel's fingers caught the edge of his sleeve and gently yanked him back before he could step away. "Not yet," David heard him finally say. "There's something I need to know."

David looked at him expectantly. Daniel shut his eyes as he inhaled deeply through his nose. He already had his attention; there was no going back now. "Why did you come to see me?"

"I just told you-"

"Not today. Before. The first time."

David's mouth snapped shut. His pupils slid to the side as he pursed his lips, looking far away as though he was searching for the right words—or working out a convincing excuse. "My time's almost up. I'll see if I can come back tomorrow Daniel." He started to pull away, but Daniel grabbed his wrist as he protested.

"Tell me!" Daniel demanded. His voice quivered with anger and something else that David could not identify. “Why even look for me at all? And why stick around for weeks? Why the hell did you really come here? "

David sighed, his expression sagging slightly. "Because when you first arrived at the camp, you seemed like a good guy. You were so polite and cheerful that I didn't suspect a thing. And I've been around people when they're faking being nice plenty of times." He lowered his head and added, "I’ve lived with it plenty."

He paused to look Daniel up and down before continuing. "But that's just it. You seemed so genuine. Even when I first started coming to see you here, when things were going well, I could still see a little of that in you. Although I really shouldn’t have yelled at you before, I do think I was right about how the cult has messed with you. You weren’t given a chance to see what people can be like when they really care about you, and when they don’t have to be guarded or manipulative with each other. The point is, I know you've done some very bad things, but I don't think that you're a bad person. Without the cult messing with your head, and with some extra support from friends, I think you could really turn your life around."

"So I'm your pet project now?"

" No. Not at all," he said a little too quickly for Daniel’s liking. "I just mean that if you need me, then I'm here for you." As he finished, he noticed that Daniel was glaring at him. "What?"

"You talk about “turning my life around” as in getting away from the cult, right? That would mean leaving behind the place, and the people, and the beliefs that I have dedicated most of my life to. Now, with that in mind, what makes you think that I even want to quit?" Daniel remarked, although behind his glare and his gruffness he was struck, once again, by a pang of both frustration and confusion.

Truth be told, being in the hospital had given him far too much time to reflect on his life and on the beliefs that had governed it up until this point. He wanted to go back— of course he wanted to—but even he had to admit to himself that it was more of a sense of wanting to go home than it was of wanting to rejoin the organization. He wasn't eager to see any of the other members after he botched the job at Camp Campbell, and despite desperately wanting some company that didn't include David, he was actually relieved that none of the other members had come to see him. Knowing how things tended to work for them, he found it unusual that nobody had come to punish him yet.

"I—guess I don't know that. " David sounded genuinely surprised by his remark. "Why do you want to stay, then?"

Damn it, it was like he could read Daniel's mind. "That's none of your business," the other man snapped. "And it's beside the point. Is this what you wanted out of me all this time? You figured that you'd do me a few favors and then I'd do whatever you wanted?"

" No! " David's volume jumped suddenly before he could backtrack, then he repeated himself more softly. He was managing to stay composed for now, but even Daniel had to admit that he genuinely did not want to push him any further this time.

"Daniel, whatever sort of reasons you might have had, you still tried to kill people,” David’s voice had a sharper tone of frustration than before. “You tried to kill kids, Daniel! And no matter what sort of logic might have led to it, even if no one else but you got hurt by it in the end, it's still a serious problem!"

Daniel said nothing in response. He crossed his arms over his chest with a barely audible huff.

David sighed. "Do you at least see how that would be bad Daniel?" he was almost pleading.

" Yes , I see how trying to kill children would be considered a bad thing. But if it would help the situation to make any sense to you, I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt them, David—quite the opposite, actually."

David squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled sharply through his nose. He had the face of a parent who was fast approaching the end of their rope. A soft sigh escaped his closed mouth as his expression relaxed into something more akin to calm disappointment. "Death doesn't fix life, Daniel.”

He walked up to the bed and locked his eyes onto the other man's, not staring him down, but rather, he was pleading with him to understand. Trying to will his words into connecting with him somehow. He continued, "The point is, Daniel, that I think you can be a good person, that you can change yourself for the better, and that you can make amends for what you’ve done. Just maybe. And I'll support you as much as you need if you decide to do that. But you need to make the effort to change yourself for that to happen. You need to think that it's necessary."

Daniel fiddled with the paper bracelet wrapped around his wrist. "Why would you possibly think that? I tried to kill kids, remember." He was no stranger to the consequences of ‘ascension’ as the cult viewed it to be, and over the years he watched several of his fellow members be hauled out of their compound in chains, most of them looking utterly serene as it happened. “Whatever random feeling you have about me doesn't change that,” he added.

He felt a brush against his arm and looked up at David, who was smiling at him again. "Well," he said as he squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. "You are the one who said feelings beat facts."

Daniel stared at him—at that almost impish smile on his face, like David knew something he didn't—and he suddenly felt suspicious.

"I have to go. My time's up." David let go of his shoulder after giving it a last reassuring pat, then he made a beeline for the exit. "But I'll come back as soon as I can, okay?" He opened the door a crack, only to freeze when suddenly he heard a reply.

"Okay."

He was completely still for a moment before turning the handle, but Daniel could swear that he saw the ghost of a smile on his face as he left the room, brushing past two men in dark suits on his way out. The door shut with a hard click as Daniel watched David’s back disappear from view, leaving him alone with his two new visitors.

Chapter Text

Just as soon as the door had shut behind David, it was opened once again, this time by two men in dark suits and tinted glasses. They wore identical blank expressions, as well as two nearly identical silver rings on their left hands. David might have been half right, at least—they didn't look like regular cops, but judging by how they were dressed and their overall lack of subtlety, they were probably higher level law enforcement. Great.

"Mind if we sit down Mr. Lasky?" the agent on the right asked. Daniel stayed silent, but gave them a nod. They each took a plastic chair from the wall and placed them side by side at the foot of his bed.

"Are you planning on speaking to us today? While that is your right, whether you decide to talk or not, you should know that we've already done our research," the man on the left said as he and his partner sat down in unison.

"Are you here to tell me how many laws I've broken, or are you just here to kill me already?" Daniel asked as he sat up against the metal bars of the headboard.

"The first option, but you should know that you're not going to prison. Not yet anyway," the same man replied. Daniel had not taken notice of the black briefcase at his side when he came in. "We're here to give you a rundown of your options, and depending on what you choose, we might be able to make a deal."

"Isn't that what my lawyer is for?"

"You're not a defendant just yet, Mr. Lasky. but if you must know, you will be talking to one eventually. You haven’t been charged with anything yet, plus, we decided that some of the information that you will be receiving today should go to you alone, first and foremost." The case opened with a succession of clicks. The man on the left rifled through its contents for a couple of minutes before eventually fishing out a thick manilla folder, which he handed to his partner.

"Daniel Ian Lasky, born in Seward, Nebraska to Eva and John Lasky. You lived in Seward with your parents and two siblings until you were ten years old, at which point your family moved to a compound in northern California, where you have remained up until two years ago," the right agent recited. "Is that right?"

"You already know it is, so why are you asking?" Daniel replied, trying to keep his voice as dispassionate as possible.

"We'll keep this simple. We've been following the movement of your organization for some time now. A man named Henry Laurette has already been named as de facto leader of this organization, and he's been cooperating with us ever since the poisoning at LaCour Day Camp."

Now they had his attention. Daniel suddenly felt as if something had a grip on his throat. His second recruiting assignment for the cult had been as a counselor at LaCour. They had carried out the purification ritual there not even a month before he turned up at Camp Campbell. He resisted the urge to shudder.

"We've already gotten details about your involvement in the mass poisonings at LaCour Day Camp, as well as a similar incident at Steadman Rehabilitation Center last year,” the man continued as he returned the folder to his partner. “We were able to find you through intel that came from some of your fellow members. We also have a few eyewitness testimonies compiled from both incidents already."

Daniel frowned. That didn't sound right. Steadman had been his first assignment working outside of the compound. His role had been a small one, only an usher. His job had simply been to teach the people who sought help from their 'program' what they had to look forward to. He had not been allowed to stay there for the actual ascension of the group, only for the purification ritual beforehand, but he remembered the feeling of working there as being nothing short of incredible. He could clearly recall taking the hands of new members as they entered a purification sauna for the first time, then listening to their words of thanks as they floated out of the chamber accompanied by rolling waves of steam. They always thanked him profusely, many of them in tears as they did. He loved seeing new members exit the sauna for the first time; to watch a person temporarily leave this reality feeling apprehensive, or even afraid, and return in a state of euphoria was amazing every single time. Working at Steadman was what had solidified his desire to be an usher in the first place. He spent weeks there, meeting prospective members and introducing them to his religion. He heard their stories of loss, abuse, and addiction, and he gave them hope in the form of enlightenment and—ultimately—an exit from the toxic reality that had broken them down in the first place. He had left feeling disappointed that he could not see them complete their journey, but grateful nonetheless that he had finally found a purpose for himself. Before going to Steadman, Daniel had spent a long time feeling alienated from the rest of the group, an occurrence which was unfortunately common among people who were not born into the organization. However, he had now been given a glimpse into what he could become, of what his true place was—both in the organization and in the world.

Years later, he would be given an assignment as an usher once again, this time at a children's day camp—and there he would find his new resolve begin to crack. LaCour had been his first time working with children—as well as one of the first attempts the cult had ever made to help children ascend on their own, rather than with their parents. That was also the first time Daniel had seen anyone willingly resist against purification. Of course, his superiors assured him after the fact that this was natural, and that he should not be afraid if new members put up a fight. “Old habits die hard,” they had explained, and healing oneself of toxic energy for good meant fighting against the very survival instincts that were designed to keep a person riddled with it. Even so, the sight of children fighting desperately and begging not to ascend was unnerving. He even wondered aloud once, not long after the fact, if maybe the group at LaCour should not have been made to ascend just yet. After that, he started every morning and ended every evening of the next week in the purification sauna, on his superiors' orders. He needed it, they said, to "free him from an invasion of doubt that had been unleashed on him by the toxic forces that be". But he knew that it was as much a punishment as it was a form of help. He still felt shaken by what he had seen, even after purifying himself, but he at least had the sense to keep his unease to himself after that. Sure, he felt guilty about keeping secrets, but the way he reasoned it, there was no point in letting his negative feelings infect the people around him; after all, LaCour had invited bigger problems—for everybody—than just his own bad feelings.

Basically, the job had not gone as planned. Some people died and ascended, but a few others were brought back from the brink and survived. Once the effects of their purification had worn off, and they had returned to both life and consciousness, every survivor made it clear that they wanted no part of the cult anymore. Although this assignment had been a large group effort, Daniel was the one primarily put in hot water by it, not because the job had gone haywire, but because he was the one to voice doubts in its aftermath. Although few people had told him to his face, the general consensus among his fellow members was that his doubting was the cause of the mission’s failure. How exactly the rumors blamed him for the mess tended to move back and forth between either accusing him of sabotage, or of simply jinxing the mission. Either way, as far as his superiors—and the rest of the cult—were concerned, he had sinned against them all, and they would make him answer for it.

Camp Campbell had been Daniel’s shot at redemption. It had been his chance to prove that he still kept the faith, and that he still deserved the privilege of keeping it. He was supposed to be a scout of sorts for a small group that would arrive later, but as more time passed, he eventually realized that he was alone and would have to improvise. In the end, he failed spectacularly, and according to what these men were telling him now, the cult was more than happy to make him their scapegoat because of it.

"You should know that you're up against some hefty charges. Conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, and possibly an accessory to murder, depending on how responsibility will be divvied up regarding the actual deaths that took place. And your friends back at that compound are more than happy to indict you.” The right agent explained. “According to a couple of our eyewitnesses from LaCour, yours was the only face they got a good look at."

Daniel swallowed involuntarily. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that there are already felony charges mounting against you, along with testimony to back them up—courtesy of the cult," the left agent continued as he traded the folder in his hand for a packet of papers from his briefcase. "However, we still don't have all the information we need to take down the people running their operations, and they know it. However, you’ve spent half your life there, and you have a fairly good idea about their inner workings. You may very well have prison time in your future Daniel, but we can change that if we feel that you can offer us some assistance."

They were silent as they waited for him to reply—to be grateful for the offer—but Daniel still had to weigh his options. It was not like he hadn’t known this was coming. He had been anticipating it from the moment he entered the hospital, but originally, his plan was to remain completely silent.The cult had warned him in the past about police, social workers, and journalists, and to be wary of any non-members who showed a keen interest in the organization itself without any interest in committing themselves to it. Of course he would protect the group he had dedicated himself to, but even he had to admit that the agents' statements inspired some doubt. Daniel wasn't stupid; he knew these men would do whatever was necessary to either get him on their side or eliminate him entirely.

That being said, however, it was not as though he had much evidence to refute their claims. No one from the organization had come to see him, or even tried to communicate with him at all. They might not have even known that he was there. Granted, that was unlikely. The cult kept a close eye on everyone involved in it, especially those directly involved in gathering and purifying new members. A few other members, including his superiors, were supposed to meet him at Camp Campbell once he had gotten the counselor job. Truth be told, he had started to panic when he had already gotten to the sauna purification stage and still nobody had shown up, but he still had a mission to accomplish, so he had proceeded and improvised. Because he had dedicated his life to them. Because what did he have if not his devotion, his beliefs? His family?

"I'm not making any deals without a lawyer present." Daniel said firmly.

Neither of the agents' expressions changed. Daniel tried to steel himself, unable to tell if it was convincing as he and the two men stared intently at each other. Finally, the man on the left sighed.

"Like I said, you should look at this some of information yourself first before you talk to a lawyer," he replied flatly. "That's for you to decide. But we will be staying in touch, Mr. Lasky."

The man with the briefcase stood up first, followed by his partner, who still held a packet of papers in his hands. He walked around to the right side of Daniel's bed and handed the packet to him.

"This is what we can show you, for now anyway. Most of it comes from published news reports, so feel free to fact check it if you don't believe us." Daniel took the papers from him, careful not to touch the man. The agent seemed just as content to keep him at a reasonable distance. "If you change your mind, give us a call."

A plain, white business card with black text landed on top of the nightstand. The man nodded at Daniel briefly before joining his partner at the door.

"Take care, Mr. Lasky," the agent with the briefcase said without turning to look at Daniel. "We'll see you soon."

With that, the pair of agents left, quietly shutting the door behind them. Daniel exhaled deeply, unaware that he had been holding his breath for so long. He glanced down at the packet in his lap, and a quick skim of it revealed a collection of what looked like various printouts and newspaper clippings with occasional notes attached. The packet was then passed across nightstand, where it laid next to the plain business card. Reading through it properly could wait, Daniel decided. He'd already had more than enough excitement for one day—and the day had barely even started. A quick glance at the clock above the door revealed that it was half past ten. He had to go to physical therapy in another half hour, and he already knew that would render him practically immobile once he was done. He would have the rest of the day after his checkups were over to recuperate in bed, so his new homework assignment could wait until then, he reasoned. In the meantime, he could stand to squeeze in some rest before he was forced to exercise.

Letting his head thump against the pillow, Daniel rolled over into his side and pulled the thin blanket up to his chin. He normally had trouble sleeping during the day, but even if he did not take a full nap, he could at least close his eyes and clear his head for a few minutes. It came as a surprise how easy it was for him to do, especially compared with how distracted he had been over the last few days. Figuring he might as well take it, he shut his eyes and tried to relax, allowing himself to melt into the slight warmth of the mattress.

Chapter Text

It was only days after Daniel was first visited by the two agents that he began to notice things changing around him. They started off small—an extra nurse on duty when he was out of his room, or an extra security guard was posted outside his door at night. Although he often saw police both around his room and around the hospital in general, they never spoke to him. Beyond the two agents, nobody else questioned him about the circumstances of how he got there, and nobody even breathed a word about what happened at Camp Campbell. He started to wonder after a while if the results of his latest assignment had even spread beyond the camp at all. When he inquired to David about it during one of his recent visits, the man only shrugged and told him that neither he nor Gwen had tried particularly hard to either hide or draw attention to the incident. That was yet another change—David's visits to the hospital began to dwindle.

Once David came back to see him after their argument, Daniel no longer tried to deliberately avoid him. Sure, he was not always—or even usually—in the mood to interact with David, but he did appreciate having the company. And, try as he did to deny it at first, David made himself very difficult to hate, much like a stray animal that would follow Daniel no matter how many times he tried to chase it off. Although he did not understand why, Daniel was fairly certain at this point that David's motives for visiting him were genuine. The happy-go-lucky counselor was fond of him, for whatever reason, and it was easier to accept that than to waste time and energy trying to get rid of him. Plus he was quickly becoming Daniel's only link to the rest of the world beyond the hospital. The banter and gossip between the hospital staff had become harder for him to gather information from, and he could not help but think that they had been told to watch what they said around him. That, or they had been given enough information about him to know to be afraid. Daniel hated to admit it, but he was actually that hoping the former explanation was the right one in that case.

"Sorry I'm late, I got held up on my way in," David greeted as he struggled to balance pushing open the door with not dropping the container he held in the crook of his arm. He left the door open behind him as he took his usual seat on Daniel's left. That was yet another change: he now had to leave the door open when he had visitors, even after security had already let them come through. 

"It's fine," Daniel replied as he peered out at the blurry activity in the hallway.

"I brought some biscuits over today. There's some honey and butter in there too." He motioned toward two small, rounded containers that were smushed up against the biscuits. "You still can't have dairy, right?"

"As far as I know." Daniel said with a shrug. "Thanks." 

He grabbed himself a biscuit, then watched as David did the same. He silently noted that the counselor looked more tired than usual. Daniel was good at picking up on other people's mood changes, which had been a useful and often necessary skill for keeping himself out of trouble over the years. Although this time, he found himself slightly unnerved by the subtle dread that he got off of David. Something about it just did not sit right.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

David stiffened. "Just fine."

Daniel raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, just-" David's eyes flickered to the door for a second. "I don't know how long I'll be able to keep coming here."

He looked all around the room for a moment, then got up and peered around the doorway. When the guard did not notice him, he sat down again and scooted his chair closer to Daniel.

"I've been turned away the last few times I've tried to come here. It's why I came so early in the morning today. They're usually more willing to let me come in right at the beginning or at the end of the day." He leaned in close and whispered, "There are more security people around rest of the hospital too, but especially on this floor. Only a couple of people who work here will let me in at all anymore."

That was different, but not necessarily unusual, Daniel supposed. He was initially surprised when David first showed up in part because he wasn't a family member. He vaguely remembered his nurse commenting that they looked a bit alike at the time, so perhaps David had somehow convinced her that he was a relative—although Daniel was doubtful that he would have lied just to see him. It was more likely that the hospital staff had taken pity on him because Daniel had no family members on record; he hadn't had any emergency contacts whatsoever, much less anyone who might potentially want to visit him.

"Have you noticed anything weird lately?" David asked. 

Well, you're here, so that's something. "Maybe. Do you remember when you came here a couple of weeks ago?" Daniel said. "It was the first time you came back after the kids from camp showed up." 

He noticed David's face fell slightly at the mention of that, so he moved on from the subject quickly. "You told me you had to leave because there were two men waiting to talk to me. They had a lot of information about what happened at the camp—and about the cult."

David looked at him strangely. "I don't know how. I mean, we did call 911, but only one officer came with the paramedics. All I could give them was the information from your job application."

"And they didn't seem suspicious—at all? What about the kids?" 

David shrugged. "The campers were all back to their usual selves by the time the ambulance came, and none of them wanted to be checked by the paramedics. I asked around, but they all said that they felt physically fine by the end of the day."

Daniel shook his head and sat up a bit straighter. "Well, I guess that's good news. But I still don't know how they found me here, in that case. I doubt the cops bothered to do a background check on me if you only told them I had gotten sick."

David was quiet. He looked down at the floor for a moment, then back to Daniel. "What did they say to you?"

He sighed. "Well, the gist of it as that I'm fucked."

"Language-" David started to say when they both heard a sound like somebody was clearing their throat. He and Daniel looked over to see Daniel's day nurse, Rina, followed closely by a security guard.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're going to have to cut this visit short." She noted Daniel's glare, and motioned to her clipboard. "Gastroenterology."

The security guard nodded at David. "That means you'll have to leave. If you would come with me please."

He looked from her to Daniel. "But-"

"Now, I'm afraid," she beckoned again. "Come along."

Reluctantly, David got up and followed the woman out of the room. He mouthed a quick 'sorry' at Daniel before he turned a corner and disappeared completely from view. The next time Daniel saw David at all was a week later, but it was only in passing as the counselor was being steered away from his room. Several days passed, but David did not show up again. When Daniel pressed a nurse for an explanation, she refused to answer. The most he got out of anyone was a single statement from one of his new night guards; "Visitor privileges have been revoked."

He waited for the agents to return, but they never did. Daniel found himself picking up the white business card several times, but it always returned to its place on his nightstand without being used. It would have been so easy to cooperate with them, and Daniel found himself wrestling with the idea more and more as time wore on. He never liked being in the hospital to begin with, but the experience had been a lot more bearable when he'd had real food and occasional conversation to break up the monotony. That being said, however, he still did not trust the motives of the agents, in no small part because he could tell that they were already at work in the hospital. Since their visit, Daniel's circumstances had rapidly changed. His room was guarded round the clock by at least two security personnel at any given time. He was rarely ever allowed to leave the door to his room closed, and he noticed that the nurses and orderlies who tended to him always seemed like they were itching to get away as soon as they came near him—more so now than ever before. Nevermind the fact that he could not do much of anything to any of them in his current state. Daniel stayed in bed most of the time because he had to. Nearly everyone who worked with him regularly had witnessed him have a seizure before. A combination of damage to his digestive system and minor lung damage from being poisoned meant that he got both nauseous and winded easily, plus his various medications sapped his energy like nothing else did. Even if the staff knew that he was a criminal, they already seemed to realize that restraining him would be redundant at this point.

Despite his quota of social interactions rapidly dwindling, Daniel still found ways to occupy himself. He played his violin frequently, practicing whenever he could. He quickly completed all of his puzzle books. He eventually began skimming his way through the files given to him by the agents, only to stop reading them altogether once he got to the articles about incidents he had partaken in. He watched TV sometimes, but there were only a few channels to pick from, and there was usually nothing on that interested him anyway. Still, he did find himself asking for it on one occasion when he had time to kill before a physical therapy appointment. Originally, his plan had been to squeeze in some violin practice that morning, but he realized that he would not have enough time to do much of anything before he had to leave, so he begrudgingly decided to watch the news instead. As soon as it was turned on, however, Daniel found himself transfixed by the report that suddenly filled the screen.

"Police have halted business at a small motel in Lakewood today after the building served as the venue for a series of unusual deaths. Police have forcibly relocated surviving guests of the Four Leaf Motel, and have sealed off the area for fear of poison gas that could still be present in the building. According to Sheriff Ziegler, who is leading the investigation, the gas appears to have been transmitted through the motel's central air system. The starting point of the path the gas traveled is in the manager's office, which had a broken carbon monoxide detector at the time."

The scene abruptly cut from the exterior of the building to the entrance to the manager's office, which was partially hidden behind crisscrossing lengths of yellow tape.

"Twenty-three people have been confirmed dead so far and fifteen are still in critical condition. Police are currently treating the scene as an accident, but have not ruled out a planned attack as a possibility. An investigation by bioterrorism specialists is already underway."

The reporter continued to drone on, but Daniel had already stopped listening to the narration. Instead, he was fixated on the shots of the motel lobby—the same lobby he had walked into not even a year earlier. He had gone there to meet with a couple of fellow members of the cult, one of whom was working there at the time. The man had been a transplant, placed in the motel by the cult in order to gather new members. However, while it was possible that this mass poisoning could have been the cult's doing—Daniel told himself—it was still not very likely. Members normally did not spend more than a month or two at a potential ascension site, much less over a year. Staying in one place for too long made them too conspicuous. Even the news report seemed to imply that there had probably been a gas leak rather than a deliberate poisoning. It could easily have been a coincidence, but even so, Daniel found the story very disconcerting.

Although he tried to let it go, the news report still wriggled in the back of his mind for days after he first saw it. Without David's visits filling his time, he found himself in front of the TV much more often, and updates on the motel story frequently made their way to the early segments of the morning news. It stayed at the forefront of the news for a couple of days, at least until it was eventually eclipsed by a new story—another mass death, naturally. This new tragedy was similar, a group of deaths at a private college campus, but that was not what made it stick out to Daniel. What grabbed his attention was the confirmation that, according to a series of notes found on-site, the deaths had been a mass suicide. He'd told himself that the motel had been a coincidence, but at this point Daniel could no longer tune out the nagging dread the report had instilled in him. This most recent event at the campus only confirmed his fears, and worse, it had occurred even nearer to him than the previous one had. Even the hospital staff spoke in disconcerted murmurs about the apparent string of mass deaths that were making headlines. Daniel realized that he himself could not stop thinking about the incidents, so instead, he decided to focus even more intently on them. He watched the news reports frequently, and found that there was a lot of information to be gleaned from them. He took notes on the newscasts concerning the deaths at both the motel and the college, and he wrote down all the details in the pages of his puzzle books. 

Eventually, he reopened the packet he had been given by the agents, and he forced himself to read through all the files, despite how his nausea spiked whenever he got to an incident he had participated in. There were far more incidents similar to the ones on the news than he had imagined, the oldest of which went back several years and the most recent of which had occurred less than a month earlier. A clear pattern was beginning to form, traceable from the oldest events in the files all the way to those that had been reported on within the last several weeks. Daniel read and reread all the accounts of what had happened at each location, and the similarities were almost disturbing in how close they were. The manners of death varied widely, but the eyewitness accounts contained very similar details. Many of the deceased seemed cheerful before they died—content even. Some victims were even seen wearing all-white clothes in the days beforehand. Other victims seemed visibly distressed prior to their deaths, but few if any of them had tried to report any odd behavior on the part of their associates before they died. In every instance, the deceased could be verified as having attended some sort of new class, club, or other social group prior to their deaths. The incidence of mass deaths that had been compiled spanned across the country; unusual deaths occurred everywhere, at a small church in Massachusetts, at a chain of new age health clinics throughout the Midwest, at a halfway house in Duluth, and at all other manner of locations in several states.

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Daniel filled his books up with research notes and stashed them in his violin case, taking them out only when he could be sure that nobody was watching him closely. After days of near obsessive research, taking notes, and finding connections between them, he could trace a clear line of movement between the incidents in his files and those on the news. The patterns he found were not airtight—he knew that already—but there were enough similarities between each event to at least warrant a closer look. The most similar incidents all began with the addition of new members to preexisting groups of people, who would then gain prominence and generate outside interest in the group, creating a rapid growth in membership before the deaths would inevitably occur. After each instance of deaths, what remained of those groups would then splinter, either by returning to their standard operating procedure from before to the spike in membership, or by falling apart entirely. What Daniel found the most distressing, however, was the direction in which the activity was moving. Each new incident seemed to be more violent than the last, often leaving both fewer survivors and more evidence that the killings were deliberate. Also, each new event occurred further west than the one before it—each one coming closer to Daniel's current location. 

That part couldn't be a coincidence. Although there were not many names that popped up in more than one case file, there were at least a few outliers. Nearly all the repeated names were listed as survivors the first time they appeared in the files, and almost all of them had been moved to the deceased list by their next appearance. The repeats were usually involved in the lowest-casualty incidents first, and those who were listed as having died later often made their final appearances in nearby incidents that had much higher death tolls. Of course Daniel figured that he was becoming paranoid about the cult long before he had made those connections, but the mass deaths he was learning about now had all the earmarks of his own cult. He also figured that if there was really no connection whatsoever between his cult and the events he was reading about, then the agents would not have given him that information at all. They would have no reason to, not unless they thought he would be useful to them in some way; after all, who would know how to recognize the activities of a cult better than a member of one?

Although he refused to admit it to himself in the midst of his research, Daniel was unnerved by how much closer each new incident came to where he currently was. It wasn't like the culprits were right outside his door—even the most recent incident happened in the next state over—but they were still coming too close for his comfort. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that being trapped in the hospital in a vulnerable state for so long was making him paranoid. It was still possible that his cult did not know where he was, although even he found this to be unlikely. Nonetheless, he tried to calm his nerves by poking holes in his own fear-driven theories. For one thing, none of the other incidents Daniel read about occurred at camps. Few of them involved children at all, and considering that none of his fellow members ever met up with him at Camp Campbell, it was still possible that they had lost interest in the area entirely. Daniel repeated this to himself over and over, and eventually, it stuck in his brain enough made him feel a little better. 

Naturally, his attempt at self-soothing was soon put to the test by yet another news report. However, the dramatic BREAKING NEWS heading that flashed onscreen as he was returning from physical therapy one night was not announcing a new series of deaths, but rather, adding to an old one. Daniel shuddered, not caring that his nurse was staring at him now, as the screen cut to the facade of the Four Leaf Motel once again.

"This is a special report as we come to you live from the Four Leaf Motel in Lakewood. New information has come to light following an investigation by biochemical weapons specialists into the mass poisoning that took place here on the 9th. After tracing samples of a corrosive residue found in the ventilation system back to a now-defunct manufacturer, experts have been able to confirm that the gas was part of a batch that was found at the sites of three other incidents of mass poisoning that occurred within the past two years."

Daniel watched, horrified, as a vaguely familiar face filled the screen. The man in question was older, balding, with a gnarled beard and drooping eyes that seemed to stare accusingly at him. 

"After further investigation, police have confirmed that one of the victims of the gas, 42-year old Dennis Czapla, has been named as the culprit of the poisoning. A search of Czapla's apartment revealed a hidden stash of unusual and potentially dangerous chemicals, as well as a written outline of how the gas was supposed to be released into the motel. Although police have confirmed that Czapla was the one who released the gas into the building, they now believe that he was acting on the orders of another party, and are currently looking into any possible extremist groups that he may have been associated with. The deaths at the Four Leaf Motel are now being treated as a case of domestic terrorism, which Sheriff Ziegler will be talking more in depth about at tomorrow morning's press conference."

It was at this point, as a chill wormed its way beneath his skin, that Daniel realized he was afraid of what the cult would do next—because now he knew they weren't coming for him. If they wanted him gone, they could have done it already, easily and discreetly, but they didn't. If they planned on punishing him now, then it was only as an afterthought. They were moving not toward Daniel, but toward something else, and he had a good idea as to what. He had failed his mission at Camp Campbell, but just because he failed did not mean that the cult was done with it yet. He had seen situations like this before, rarely, but they did happen; sometimes a group of people would be interrupted before reaching ascension, and so the event would be put on pause. When it was eventually seen through to completion, the results were often far more conspicuous, and therefore, far more brutal. Considering that his failure had gained the attention of the government, it would only make sense that the cult would decide to eliminate Camp Campbell themselves to avoid further investigation from that point. 

As much as Daniel hated himself for caring so much about it, he knew without a shred of uncertainty that his options had already been decided. If the cult was headed for Camp Campbell, then so was he.

Chapter Text

This won’t work.

This was not the first nor would it be the last time that this thought crossed Daniel’s mind. Even he knew that his chances of getting out of the hospital on his own were slim at best, although his odds of succeeding aside, his goal was a pretty straightforward one: he just needed to get to Camp Campbell before any other cult members did. Considering how much closer each new mass killing came, the camp could have been hit any day now. Technically, it could have been attacked long ago, and maybe Daniel should have been concerned before the killings had gotten the chance to pick up speed, although he hadn’t actually been given any evidence to suggest it was a target up until that point. Granted, there hadn’t been any reason to care about the place before now either, and he still hadn’t been particularly worried once he started—a fact that he mostly attributed to David’s frequent visits. That the counselor was able to regularly visit the hospital a couple of times a week meant that not only was the camp not under attack, but things were probably even quieter than usual if it was so easy for him to show up on a regular basis. However, now that the hospital had revoked all of Daniel’s visitor privileges—which included making phone calls—he had no way of knowing what was going on at the camp. So long as he was banned from communicating with anyone, he couldn’t so much as send a warning David’s way. He had already—begrudgingly—considered calling the number given to him by the two agents. The hospital probably would have let him call them too—considering that they were probably the ones behind the suddenly heightened security. As far as Daniel was concerned, calling them now would be too risky. He had no reason to trust the agents to keep their word, and even if they were willing to check in on the camp, there was no guarantee that he would be able to convince them to do it before the cult struck. Between asking for help he might not get or attempting to escape alone, he decided he was better off taking this matter into his own hands.

Daniel had begun forming a tentative plan to escape over the course of several days, and quickly pinpointed that there were a multitude of variables to account for. His health was actually the least of his concerns in that respect. Although he experienced frequent stomach cramps and fatigue from being poisoned, most of his other symptoms were actually the result of his various medications. If he wanted any chance of success, then he would have to start skipping his medications a day before he attempted his escape. With any luck, the worst of the side effects of skipping would be over by the next morning. He only needed to be strong enough to leave on his own, and then he could deal with his other symptoms as they came. The most pressing issue would be getting out of his room undetected. There were only a few areas of the entire hospital that he was allowed to move to and from: his own room, of course, as well as the physical therapy, gastroenterology, otolaryngology, and toxicology departments. Daniel’s room was located on the fourth floor, the gastroenterology department was on the sixth, toxicology was on the second, and physical therapy and otolaryngology were both on the first floor, since they were often saw the most patients. He was always escorted out of his room by at least one nurse at any time, although in recent weeks, a security guard would sometimes accompany them wherever they were going. Depending on how his health was faring that day, Daniel would either walk to wherever he was going, or, more often than not, he would be escorted there in a wheelchair. Ideally he would be taking the latter option on the day of his escape, since staff members tended to be less cautious around him when he was particularly ill.

He determined that his best chance of escaping would be in the morning before his usual checkup with the gastroenterologist. Although waiting until he had an appointment on the first or second floor would mean a shorter distance between him and his freedom, it was for that exact reason that security tended to be tighter around him when he was on the lower floors. They key to his success would be to stay under everybody’s radar, and that meant learning their patterns and figuring out how to maneuver around them, fast. In the days leading up to his planned escape, Daniel watched every staff member he came across with especially careful consideration. He all but ignored the security personnel, trying to attract as little attention from them as possible. The less familiar he was with them now, the less he would stick out to them later. With the nurses, on the other hand, he tried to chat them up as much as physically possible. Daniel was almost like his old self when he spoke with them. He was charming and sympathetic, and all too eager to hear about their hectic schedules. Even when he wasn’t speaking to them directly, he listened to them speak to each other, and he scraped what few details he could about their routines from their conversations. The real jackpot came with a comment from Rina, his day nurse, when he overheard her telling a doctor that she would be swapping shifts with a coworker during the afternoon the following day. Daniel didn’t recognize her coworker by name, and chances were good that said coworker wouldn’t be familiar with him either. That would be his best chance to leave.

When the big day finally arrived, Daniel was quick to start setting his plan into motion. At 8 o'clock he received his morning meds, which he made himself throw up as soon as Rina turned her back to him, just as he had the previous day. She would only be taking him as far as the sixth floor before she changed shifts at 11 o'clock, and luckily for him, she had taken one look at him in all his unsteady, hacking glory and decided that he was in no shape to get there on his own. When the time finally came to wheel him up there, she told him that somebody else would be taking him back to his room after the appointment, and it took some effort on his part not to smile at the confirmation that his plan was on track. As was customary now, they were flanked by a security guard while they made their way toward the elevator, and after she and the guard had safely deposited Daniel into the sixth floor waiting room, Rina left. The guard stayed behind to check in with a coworker who was posted down the hall, leaving Daniel almost completely alone in the room for a minute. His appointment papers had already been filled out, so unfortunately, the starting point of his route would already be obvious once he left. However, the security guard was out of view, and of the handful of people scattered around the room, not one of then was paying him the slightest bit of attention. There were security cameras posted around the room to act as a deterrent, but they didn’t matter. He just needed to get out of the hospital before he anybody could stop him. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Daniel wheeled himself out of the room, drawing no more than a glance or two on his way out, and toward the restrooms. There were a couple of other people in there, so he steered himself into the large handicapped stall, then waited until the sounds of running faucets and swinging doors had come and gone before kneeling down to peer beneath the stall. Nobody in sight. With a bit of a struggle, he got to how feet and walked out of the stall, leaving the wheelchair behind as he made his way to the sinks. He couldn’t change his appearance very drastically, but he could at least wash his face to wake himself up a little. There was no going back now, and his short window of escape time had already begun to close.

The next order of business would be more difficult. He was still wearing his patient’s smock, so he couldn’t pass as a visitor or a staff member yet. Luckily, every even-numbered floor of the hospital had a staff locker room. Daniel hadn’t caught much more than glimpses of the inside before while people were coming and going, but he had seen just enough to get a view of a scrubs dispenser inside the one on the sixth floor. He only opened the restroom door a crack so that he could check the perimeter, and as soon as the coast was clear, he crossed the hallway and opened the locker room door, staying low to the ground as he did so that he could immediately make a dive behind the partitioned wall. He could hear footsteps somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t get much of a visual from his current vantage point. Carefully, Daniel crept across the tile until he could see across the far side of the room. As far as he could tell, the only occupants appeared to be two other men, who were talking back and forth as they opened the dispenser. Careful to stay pressed up against to the wall, Daniel tiptoed closer so that he could get a better view of which buttons they pressed on the screen. When the pair suddenly stopped to look in his direction, he jumped back against the partition only to stifle a sigh of relief when he realized they were actually looking toward the clock near the ceiling. They hadn’t noticed him behind the wall. In a matter of minutes, the two men had redressed themselves and left, seemingly unaware that Daniel was even there. Daniel ran up to the machine as soon as the door had shut and quickly punched in the numbers he had seen the pair use. Thankfully, the code worked and the doors to the machine opened with ease. He dressed himself quickly in a pair of blue scrubs and discarded his smock into the trash. Good, he thought. 

Daniel left the locker room through the back door, the same as the other two staffers had. Instead of heading downstairs, however, he instead followed a small group of people into a nearby elevator and up to the eighth floor. Once the doors opened, he headed down the hall, trailing just behind a new cluster of people who were walking toward the large ramp in the center of the building. This would be his main camouflage, being blended into the crowd of people who were heading downstairs. Security was probably expecting him to take the nearest route to the first floor so that he could make a break for it, and they were probably going to swarm the elevators and stairwells as soon as they realized he was missing, if they hadn’t already. Taking the ramp may have been the slowest way to move between floors in this hospital, but it was almost always full, and he would draw less attention to himself sheltered among the throngs of other people. Along the way, there were also dispensers for things like hand sanitizer and surgical masks, which meant that people would often stop short and bump into each other when using the dispensers. While preoccupied and with movement occurring all around them, most people wouldn’t notice a bit of extra jostling, nor did they think to check their pockets while they were walking. By the time Daniel made it to the first floor of the building, he’d managed to cover his face, and he had a few spare dollars in his pockets.

Of course, because nothing is ever truly easy, there were already clusters of security personnel stationed near the front doors. Breaking from the crowd now would be risky, though, Daniel thought. He persisted on, but he was beginning to grow uneasy as the crowd started to thin out around him. His anxiety was only growing now that he was close to the end—enough so that he had to swallow back a yelp when he suddenly felt a hand touch his back.

“Evan! Hey, didn’t you hear me calling you?”

Daniel turned around to see an unfamiliar man in green scrubs smiling at him.

“Oh, hey,” Daniel said softly as his gaze flitted quickly back and forth between the stranger and the group of security guards. “Sorry, it’s hard to hear up there.” He gestured to the ramp behind him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just messing with ya. I thought today was your day off, man. What'cha doing here?” The man’s curly black hair bounced a little as he laughed. He didn’t seem to suspect anything was off.

“Covering a shift for someone. You know, just getting some extra hours in,” Daniel said with what he hoped was a casual tone. “Uh, where are you headed?”

“Swinging by the pharmacy real quick. Why? You want to come with?” the man asked. He looked more curious than suspicious, which was a good sign.

Daniel nodded, and was then led away from the front doors and toward the small pharmacy that was tucked in the back of the lobby area. This might have been a stroke of luck after all, he thought. This stranger’s mistake meant that he had camouflage again. Even as he passed by a lone guard on the way into the pharmacy, she only barely glanced his way before returning her attention to the distant crowd in the lobby. Laughing alongside the orderly as he told a joke and with his face partially covered, Daniel was once again able to slip beneath the radar. As soon as they had passed through the door unscathed, the unfamiliar man made his way toward the front counter, and Daniel took the opportunity to slip away. There were no public doors out of the building this way, but there was an emergency exit against the back wall. It would be noisy, but at least he could find a place to hide once he was safely outside. In one swift movement, Daniel shoved open the door and ran into the lot that stretched beyond it, away from the blare of emergency alarms that eventually trailed off into the white noise of rustling wind and passing cars.

He wasted no time in winding his way along the side of the building and through the cluster of trees that bordered the parking lot. The less than a minute’s worth of sprinting he did was enough to make him dizzy, and he had to steady himself to keep from falling over once he made it to the parkway. Daniel couldn’t tell if he was beginning to crash from fatigue, relief, or both. Either way, his exhaustion forced him down from a run to a brisk walk as he made his way down the sidewalk, passing by a only a handful of pedestrians and squat buildings along the way. He wasn’t completely out of danger yet, but the worst of it was over, which he kept having to repeat to himself even after he finally reached a bus depot where he could collapse in relative peace.

“I made it,” he said to no one in particular, and kept repeating it under his breath, garnering a few strange looks from other people waiting to be picked up. When one man’s stare caught his eye, Daniel only glared until he looked away, and tightened the drawstrings on his hood. On the way there he ducked into a thrift store where he’d been able to switch out his scrubs for some regular clothes. He never thought he would miss wearing actual fabric so much. Daniel should have been relieved. He’d gotten out of the hospital. He was free—at least for the time being. Going without his medications for so long was starting to take its toll, but he could handle a bit of exhaustion and a bit of pain. He’d already been through far worse in the past couple of weeks. Still, he felt more uneasy than triumphant, even as he finally boarded the bus to Sleepy Peak.

Now that he was on his way to the camp, Daniel also had time to think about just what exactly he was doing. He may have been a sitting duck in the hospital, but he would be even easier for the cult to find out here. It wasn’t like he expected to avoid them for the rest of his life, however long he had left of it to live. He wasn’t concerned about them, though, so much as he was concerned about the camp. He couldn’t help but question himself, and why he was putting himself at risk for that place anyway. He’d tried to kill those kids, and as much as he hated to admit it, David was right about such an act carrying an inherent sense of wrongness. Even if Daniel was doing it for their sakes—so they could ascend, purified, perfect, and unafraid as they finally shed their mortal bodies for something better—there was always a moral reflex of sorts that opposed his resolve. A little voice that whispered to him, you know this is wrong—but he’d always ignored it. He was supposed to, he’d been told, because reaching a higher level of being meant ignoring the survival instincts that clouded his head with fear. He was helping people—and he had always believed that to be the case. Now though, Daniel wasn’t so sure.

He should have hated David—and Camp Campbell by extension—for doing that to him. For finding a weak point in his faith and putting pressure on it. But he didn’t hate either of them. Instead, Daniel was anxious. He hadn’t been anxious in a very long time, but this time, he didn’t have his family or his sauna to make it go away. This time, he was completely on his own. Goodness, why was he going to all this trouble for that stupid camp, and putting his own health and safety at risk in the process? What did he care at this point what happened to them? He had failed his mission, and those kids were alive to hate him and live with the all negativity that he hadn’t been able to chase away. He asked himself about this over and over as walls of dark pine flew past the window at his side, but he already knew the answer, as much as he didn’t want to admit it: he was doing this because of David. He was doing this because that idiot had pushed and shoved his way into his life, forced Daniel to accept his help, and now he had a target on his back because of it. As pushy and annoying as David’s attempts at mending fences could be, the man didn’t deserve to be punished on Daniel’s behalf. He owed the counselor that much at least. 

It’ll be okay , Daniel told himself as he watched the surrounding forest roll past. It was all he could do now until he got to his destination. Everything will be okay.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Any sign of the radio?" Gwen said over her shoulder.

"Not yet!" came David's reply from the kitchen. "Maybe Quartermaster knows where it is? He uses it more than either of us do."

"I would ask him if I knew where he was." She shook her head. "I haven't seen him since this morning."

"How about I go find him while you get the games started?" David said as his head bobbed up from behind the counter. "I hope the kids aren't getting too restless out there,” he added.

"Actually, it sounds like they've quieted down a bit all things considered. I haven't heard a peep out of Max since I got the games down-" She stopped talking suddenly, and David watched as her face suddenly melted from a look of calm into a one of anxiety. "Wait a sec, why are they being so quiet?"

Gwen was already anticipating the answer to her question when she turned around and, sure enough, the number of kids in the room had decreased by half. It took only a few seconds for her and David to throw on their jackets, and for her to let loose several curses when she realized that their umbrella was also gone. However, the details of that particular string of obscenities were lost to the noise of the two counselors throwing open the door and sprinting toward the small cabin across the clearing. They nearly fell into the doorway when they burst through, not realizing that it was already unlocked, but both of them froze in place when they finally focused on the scene ahead of them.

" Daniel? " David shrieked.

Daniel turned around slowly, managing to lumber only a couple of steps forward before he fell against David, who quickly dropped to his knees to catch him. Daniel clutched onto the fabric of the man’s shirt, burying his face in the knit and grunting at the dizziness the small bit of motion had hit him with. His face felt far too warm compared to the rest of him—due more to his ill state than to his current position, he told himself. David was basically cradling him, rubbing his back gently while he sputtered a barrage of concerns and questions at him, but Daniel barely heard a word of it over the pulsing in his head. He made only a few incoherent murmurs in response, but when David told him to speak up, he suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders with an urgency that frightened them both.

"They're coming." he said loudly enough to silence David completely. "They'll be here s-soon. You need to go—need to get out. Get away."

"Who is? Who's coming Daniel?" David asked as the group of campers watched him, wide-eyed and speechless.

Daniel raised his head just long enough to mutter what sounded like "the cult” before he fell over again. David looked shaken, for a moment at least, until his face relaxed into an unusually composed expression.

"Okay," he said, wrapping his arms around the man's waist as he slowly pulled both of them to their feet. "Okay. We're going to need to discuss this, but let's get you cleaned up first. Gwen, could you please give me a hand with him?"

She was visibly hesitant, but she still got to her feet, took one of the man's arms and put it around her shoulder. They moved past the mesmerized group of campers, carefully setting him onto the nearest bed before turning their attention to the children.

"Okay kids," Gwen said calmly, resuming the use of what she called her 'adult supervision voice’. "All of you need to get back to the mess hall. We'll catch up in a bit once this is all taken care of."

"No, no way," Max's voice rose over the crowd. "No way! What the fuck is he even doing here? Why aren't you calling the police or–"

" Max. " David’s tone was flat in a way that told the boy that he was serious, but mostly that he was desperate. "Go back to the mess hall and I promise we'll fill all of you in on what's happening soon."

Max's mouth snapped shut, silent.

"Please?" David added.

To even his own surprise, Max sucked in a breath and—without so much as a single snide remark leaving his mouth—he turned around and led the line of baffled kids out of the cabin, leaving the two counselors alone with a sopping wet and rather sickly looking cultist. Daniel moaned quietly and flopped over on the bed, seeming to ignore them both.

"What are we going to do about him?" Gwen mumbled.

"He said something about the cult he was from—I think they're after him, or at least he seems to think so."

"He does look pretty bad. I doubt he could do much damage like this."

"Probably." David looked at him with a pang of sympathy. Daniel’s clothes were soaked, and he looked incredibly winded. How had he gotten out of the hospital? Judging by his physical appearance, he looked as though he had walked all the way to the camp. "I can look after him if you can handle the kids for a bit."

That earned him a doubtful look from Gwen, but David insisted, "I know him well enough. I doubt he'll try to hurt me, and certainly not when he's like this.”

She raised an eyebrow. Even if Daniel was pretty sick, it didn't guarantee that he wasn't still a danger to them.

"Please?” David pleaded with his eyes as well as his words. "I think he feels like I'm safe to be around. Maybe he'd be more willing to talk to me."

She sighed, quietly cursing the effectiveness of those damned sad puppy eyes of his as she sidestepped over to a nearby set of drawers. After rummaging around the top drawer for a minute, she procured a couple of black walkie talkies.

"Here." She handed one to David. "You remember how to use these?"

He nodded. She leaned in close and said in a low voice, "If he gives you any trouble, tell me ASAP. I'll be coming back to check on you once the kids have calmed down a little."

He mouthed a quick "thank you" to her as she left before turning his attention back to the man currently curled up on the bed.

"Hey Daniel," he said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Shit," he muttered. David pressed his wrist to the man's forehead, and Daniel silently welcomed the coolness against his warm skin.

"Whoa, you're burning up—but you feel really clammy. Are you sore anywhere? Does your chest hurt? How long have you been feeling sick?"

"A little. Since this morning," he wheezed. "You need to go. Need to get out, before they come."

The counselor was pensive for a moment. "All right. I'm going to make some tea. If you want, I'll get a shower running so you can warm up a bit, but first you need to change out of your wet clothes."

With only a minor fuss, he led Daniel to the bathroom, keeping an arm around his back to steady him as they walked.

"There's not a full tub, but there is a bar on the wall if you start feeling dizzy. And you can sit down in the shower if you need to." He jerked the metal knobs with a screech and a slow trickle of water began to fall from above. "I'll go get you something clean to wear."

He turned around and shut the door, leaving Daniel alone to fumble his way out of his clothes. He shucked off his hoodie, which landed on the tile with a sopping wet smack, and after a short struggle, the rest of his clothes soon followed suit. Steam had already begun to engulf the little room, the heat of which—to his pleasant surprise—made peeling off the layers a bit less jarring to his sensitive skin. He reached a tentative hand into the spray of water; it was warm, but not scalding, thankfully. He wobbled as he stepped inside but found that he was able to balance himself pretty easily between the bar and the wall. He did appreciate being able to scrub some of the grime off his person, although most of the time he was in there was spent simply reclining against the wall and trying to loosen up the cement-like heaviness in his head and in his chest. When he finally felt okay enough to step out of the shower, he found that his pilfered outfit was gone and had instead been replaced with a neatly folded pile of clean clothes.

David was already waiting for him with a couple of mugs when he finally shuffled out of the bathroom. He greeted Daniel with a smile. "You look better."

Daniel's face was a bit pink, but he looked much more alert. He was barefoot now, dressed in tan cargo pants and a blue sweatshirt. His hair was still damp enough that it hung over his forehead in small clumps.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

He left the door open, allowing the steam to trail close behind him, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. David handed him a mug with the words ‘Good S'Morening’ printed on it just above a stack of cartoon s'mores. The tea was still pretty hot, so he took only a few slow sips of it at a time.

David sat down in his chair next to the bed and reached a hand out, stopping just shy of brushing Daniel's face. "May I?"

Daniel nodded and David placed the back of his hand against his forehead. He was warm, but not clammy, and he already seemed much more lucid than before. Good.

"Alrighty then." David said as he reclined in his seat. "If you feel ready now, how about you start by explaining why you’re here?"

It took a while to get everything out, a process made slower still by Daniel's need to pause and gather his thoughts every so often. He told David everything—about the agents, about the recent murders, and about things he had done in the cult long before they ever even met. By the end of it, he felt exhausted all over again, and, although he would never admit it out loud, he was quietly dreading what David would have to say in response.

David did not say anything for some time after the other man had finished his monologue. Daniel could almost see him chewing everything over in his mind, and it put him on edge.

"So, let me make sure I have this right," David finally said after several agonizing minutes. "The cult you were a part of sent you and a few others to a camp that got poisoned before you came to Camp Campbell. Things didn't go as planned there, so then they sent you here. You were supposed to kill everyone here, but because that went wrong, now other people from the cult will be coming to do it themselves. And they've done this before already, including all those deaths that have been in the news. Is that right?"

He nodded. David sucked in his breath and let out a long sigh. "Can–" he said in a small voice, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

David chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. "Did you ever kill anyone yourself?"

"Technically no." Daniel was surprisingly calm as he answered. "I never killed anyone with my own hands, if that's what you mean. I'm not of a high enough rank to do that. I've only been an usher before, performing the sauna rituals and preparing people to ascend. But I'm still just as responsible for what happens next."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, then, how come you were at the camp by yourself?"

"I was only supposed to set things up. Somebody else was supposed to come later to perform the actual ascension, someone more qualified, but that didn't happen, so I had to improvise."

They were beginning to grow quiet again, and David was stammering out gibberish just to keep the conversation from ending. "Did you really—I mean, do you still believe in it? In the cult, I mean?"

Daniel's gaze shifted toward the floor. It was hard to say. In the beginning, he had honestly believed in the cult's doctrine, or at least he tried not to question it. It was still hard to tell how much of that had been genuine belief on his part, and how much had been the result of brainwashing and being indoctrinated when he was still fairly young. He had gone through the purification sauna a few times himself, usually only when he was feeling very anxious, or after people in the cult had expressed concern over "sudden surges in negativity" from him. If he was being honest with himself, his time in the hospital away from anything to do with the cult or its dogma had left him paranoid, irritated, and frankly, longing for the reassurance that the group had once given him. That being said, though, the more he thought about the cult's beliefs and practices, the more suspicious the details became to him. The speed with which he found himself losing trust in that significant part of his life scared him more than anything he had ever experienced before. And yet...

"Daniel?" David stared at him with a worried look on his face. He must not have said anything for a while.

Daniel answered as honestly as he could. He shook his head. "I don't know."

His internal distress must have been clear because soon David was sitting beside him on the bed. He leaned toward Daniel for a moment, then stopped, still poised to reach for him. "May I?"

Daniel nodded so slightly in response that he thought David did not catch it, but he must have, because he immediately found himself pulled into a tight hug by the counselor. It was not like this was the first time that David ever touched him in a friendly or reassuring manner, but he seemed so much more relaxed, so much less cautious than in the past, which was surprising considering what information Daniel had just unloaded about himself. Strangely enough, Daniel realized that he did not feel anxious at all, although the intimacy of the gesture normally would have made him uncomfortable.

"Listen Danny," David began. For once, Daniel did not mind the use of the nickname. "I know you've done some pretty bad things. I'd be lying if I said there weren't at least a few times when I felt afraid of you." He gripped the fabric of the man's borrowed sweatshirt. "But I don't think you're a bad person. I believe that you really do want to make amends, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. And if I can help you to recover and to do that, then, well–" He was struggling to find the right words for it. "Then I just want you to know that I have your back."

He was honestly surprised when he felt the cultist's arms wrap around him in kind. It was a little surreal, and he was still a bit flustered, but David was otherwise very relaxed in that moment. For once, Daniel was genuinely glad that David was with him. They each pulled back, not quite letting go of one another as they did, as David stared thoughtfully at Daniel with a warm and inviting smile.

Daniel smiled back at him for just a second, before his face contorted and he began to cough. David put a hand on his back to steady him as his bout of hacking crested before dwindling back into silence.

"I think we have some cough drops if you want them." He stood up without breaking contact with Daniel's back. "How about you get into bed? I need to talk to Gwen so we can all come up with a plan together. In the meantime, you can rest here for a while and try to recharge. Does that sound good?"

Daniel nodded a couple of times as he pushed himself back onto the bed, not quite making it all the way to the headboard before he decided to curl up in the middle of the mattress. He seemed content where he was, so David simply pulled the blankets up and around him and left it at that. He headed toward the nightstand on Gwen's side of the room and returned a few minutes later with a partially used bag of throat lozenges. Daniel declined taking one right then, so he instead placed the bag on the nightstand for later. David was about to leave when he heard a small whimper from the bed.

"Yes?" He leaned down closer so that he could hear Daniel speak.

"Could you stay for a bit?" he murmured.

David looked mildly surprised, but nonetheless, the corners of his mouth turned up into another smile. "Sure."

He sat down on the edge of the bed that faced away from the door, which sandwiched him between Daniel on one side and a row of pillows on the other. He asked Daniel if he wanted one, but the man declined with a shake of his head. He was parallel to the edge of the bed, with the top of his head nearly bumping against David's leg. He let out a couple of coughs beneath the blanket and David responded by once again rubbing his back until they were all out of his system. This time though, he kept at it even after the man had stopped coughing, deciding to circle his shoulder blades with his fingertips for awhile longer. It seemed to help, judging by the occasional contented murmurs he heard from Daniel, who eventually scooted himself a bit closer to David and allowed his head to rest against the counselor's thigh. He was starting to fall asleep now, nestled comfortably between the warmth of the blankets on top of him and the heat that radiated from the man beside him. David moved his hand from Daniel's back to his head, still barely touching him as he began to sift his fingers through his still damp hair. The rhythmic motion and the gentle pressure on his scalp was sedating, and after only a few more minutes, David smiled again upon hearing a snore cut through the quiet. He kept stroking Daniel's hair even after he was sure that the man had fallen asleep, enjoying the rhythm of it—and it was how Gwen would eventually find him when she reentered the cabin.

"Okay, am I hallucinating?" she said only half-seriously, "Because right now it looks like an escaped convict is using you as a pillow. And you are just—letting him."

"Something like that," David chuckled quietly. "He had a bad cough earlier, but he seems okay now."

"That's good." Her gaze lingered on the sleeping man. "Did he have anything to say that wasn't fever gibberish?"

He told her.

"Well shit," she said after a long time. "I thought he'd led a fucked up life before, but wow. That’s—something else, alright."

"I think I saw the agents before," he said. "I read about him in the papers after he wound up in the hospital. They mentioned the other camp he worked at—where all those other kids had died." He glanced at Daniel sadly. "I never would have even considered that this is what his life was like, certainly not when we first met."

Gwen leaned back against the wall. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know. That's the thing."

"We should really call the cops," she muttered.

She noticed how David tensed up at this. "I-I don't want him to get hurt," he said.

"Is he really any safer out here than he was in the hospital? Plus, it's not like we have a lot to go off here," she pointed out. "How do we know he's not just talking crazy because he's sick?"

"Well, I doubt he'd come all the way here unless he thought we were really in danger." Gwen watched him pat Daniel's back lightly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. She was getting a bad feeling about this.

"David," she said, "How about we continue this conversation back at the mess hall?"

"Oh" He glanced down at his watch. "Yeah, I guess it's time we head back. I'm sure the kids are getting anxious."

It took a bit of finesse on his part to maneuver himself away from Daniel without waking him, but the man didn't budge—even as a pillow was quickly shoved beneath his head while David was getting up—so he assumed that he was successful. Of course he had his concerns about leaving him there alone, but he would be back to check on him later, regardless of what he and Gwen decided to do.

It'll be okay , David thought as he took one last glance at Daniel on their way out of the cabin. We're all going to be okay.

"I'm telling you the proof is right there!" Preston insisted. He looked almost as exasperated as his audience did. "Have none of you ever seen West Side Story? It's practically the same! Daniel fell in love with David even though they're from opposite sides—much like Tony and Maria—and they’ve been seeing each other in secret despite their respective gangs not wanting them too, also like Tony and Maria!” He was met with silence. “This would also make us the Sharks, in that case,” he added pointedly. “David is almost certainly Maria, and if Daniel is here now, then he may very well be trying to warn him, or possibly even run away with him!"

"Okay, none of that makes any sense," Neil said flatly. "And what the hell makes you think that Daniel would possibly fall for David? He probably came here to kill us all!" He paused, and then added, "Again!"

"No! You’re not listening," he rolled his eyes, frustrated. “He burst through the door looking like absolute shit and asking where David was! Why else would he do that, huh?”

" God , somebody make him shut up," Max groaned loudly.

"Ugh, you are so full of shit , Preston! Of course Daniel isn't in love with David," Nurf declared as he rolled his eyes. "Besides, if anything, it's more like Heathers . Because, much like J.D., Daniel has proven himself to be violent and manipulative. No matter how much he might claim to "love" David in this case-” he mimed air quotes with his hands. “He would still just get rid of David—his Veronica in this case—once he was no longer supportive of him."

It took him a moment to notice that everyone in the room was now silently staring at him. Preston was slack-jawed.

"What? Just because I tend to shield myself using violence and toxic masculinity doesn't mean I can't still enjoy the nuances of modern musical theater." He crossed his arms over his chest with a huff and a glare. “Assholes.”

"Jesus Christ, do I even want to know?" Gwen muttered as she walked inside and shucked off her jacket.

"Not really," Max said nonchalantly. "So, what the fuck is up with Daniel showing up out of nowhere and telling us we're all gonna die?"

"Good to see you too Max," she replied unenthusiastically.

"We're still working on what to do about that," David said as he shut and bolted the doors behind him. "But, he did explain at least some of what's going on."

Max furrowed his brow at him. "Well, are you gonna tell us or what?"

"Just, give us a minute, alright kids? This is going to be a lot of explaining." She hung up her jacket and waved over to the kitchen. "Quartermaster, you're gonna need to hear this too."

She and David sat down at one of the tables, and the crowd of children migrated over there to settle in around them. The two counselors tried to keep their explanation as straightforward as possible. They toned down Daniel's recounting to its bare bones in an effort to keep it simple, but found themselves having to quote a lot of what he said, and provide notes of their own just to make sure any of it could be understood. The watched the children's expressions as they narrated, morphing into all manners of fear, awe, anger, and unease. By the time they had gotten everything laid out, nearly everyone in the small crowd looked appropriately distressed by the news, save for the Quartermaster, who looked no more or less intense than usual.

"So, that's pretty much that," Gwen finally concluded.

The usual chorus of remarks and reactions had turned to pure silence about halfway through their version of events. Even Max was stupefied.

The only sound in the room was a muffled sort of snort, courtesy of Quartermaster. "Hm, now that's fucked up," he muttered.

"Holy fuck," Neil said with a noticeable shudder.

"So, are we gonna die?" Nikki asked with an unusual but not uncharacteristic amount of excitement.

"No, Nikki. We promise we won't let anything happen to you," Gwen said. She hoped that her anxiety wasn't obvious, but what else could she tell them? What they all needed right now was to be calm. "However, we do need to figure out a plan."

Space Kid raised his hand. "But, what about Daniel?"

"Well, we know that he's sick— actually sick," David said as he continued to wring his hands. "According to him, he's been off his medication for a couple of days, and he's already done a lot more walking to get here than he has in a while, so he's not in great shape."

"He's resting in the counselor's cabin, and for now, he's locked in," Gwen added. "We can and probably should call the cops, but we have no idea if they'd be able to do much to help us, if they even believe anything we have to say."

"We could try my dads," Ered said from one of the back tables. "They'd probably, like, send us some backup at least."

"Hm, Daniel did say that there were a couple of feds he talked to. It's definitely worth a try," Gwen mused aloud. "Can you get in touch with them?"

"Yeah, but my phone doesn't get any signal up here."

"There's a landline phone in Campbell's office. We can try that instead so long as you have their numbers." She got up from her seat and headed toward the kitchen. "We'll get this sorted out. In the meantime, there's some board games for the rest of you kids to keep yourselves busy with. David, how about you go check on Daniel? Quartermaster can go with you while we try to call Ered's dads."

"Sounds like a plan," David replied as he stood up and walked toward the doors, stopping just shy of opening them again. "I know this is scary, kids, but you'll all be safe, I promise."

With one last beaming smile aimed the campers' way, he put on his jacket and opened the door. leaving the kids to talk amongst themselves, Quartermaster trailing behind him as the door clicked shut.

Chapter Text

“Hello?” David’s voice came softly through the crack of space between the door and the wooden frame. “Daniel? You there?”

No answer. He pushed the door open the rest of the way and saw that Daniel was still in bed, curled up roughly where he’d left him with a blanket still pulled up to his chin. Another unanswered call confirmed that the man was still asleep, much to David’s relief. He wasn’t quite ready to have another life or death conversation with anyone else today—at least not just yet. Daniel already looked better than when he left him. His face had a little more color, and he looked so relaxed as he slept that David couldn’t help but smile. 

He relayed their status to Gwen over his walkie talkie, speaking quietly to avoid waking the man nearby. “I’ll wait here for a bit until he wakes up. Just in case his health takes a turn.”

“Fine by me,” she muttered back before turning her attention to the other voice that was coming from behind her.

“Uh, Gwen? It’s not working,” Ered called over her shoulder.

She cursed and switched out the walkie talkie for the corded phone that was attached to the wall. “Put it back on the hook and then try again,” she said as she reset the rotor. Leave it to Cameron fucking Campbell to be so cheap that he still used a rotary phone. Another go at dialing the number proved just as fruitless as the previous, and Gwen was feeling it. “Damn it!” she slammed the phone back onto the hook. “Can’t even get a frigging dial tone. Ered, go get the Quartermaster,” she commanded. 

She was willing to cling to the slim hope that the phone wasn’t working due to the weather rather than due to its generally shitty state. Mostly because they would be shit out of the luck otherwise. 

“There you are,” she said as the old man appeared in the doorway. “Take a look out by the power lines in case a phone wire went down. If there is and you think we can fix it, then maybe we can get the phone working again.”

He disappeared with barely more than a grunt. She returned her attention to the younger girl. “And Ered, you’re going to help me search Campbell’s office. With all the illegal shit he was tangled up in, there’s no way that asshole wasn’t keeping a burner phone handy somewhere. In the meantime that will be our best chance of getting in touch with your dads.”

Campbell never left much behind whenever he ran out on them, but he was still sloppy. The first half hour of searching barely yielded anything, and Gwen would consistently have to run back and forth between combing Campbell’s possessions for anything useful and resolving issues among the rest of the kids out front. Between juggling all their petty conflicts and worrying about Daniel causing trouble, she couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or more worried that David wasn’t with him instead of the rest of them. Not like she could ever understand David’s obsession with that guy, even before said maniac decided to randomly appear in their cabin looking pretty much exactly every camp urban legend to ever exist. Gwen wouldn’t be inclined to take crazy-ass cultist Daniel’s word for anything in normal circumstances, but it wasn’t as though they had much choice anymore. She was far less willing to risk him being right than him being wrong.

“Nothing? Really?” Gwen suddenly threw up her hands with a huff. 

Between her and Ered working together, they’d already flipped the whole office twice. Aside from some cash that was probably counterfeit and some food rations that expired a decade ago, there was nothing that even looked remotely useful. Okay, this calls for drastic measures.

As much as she hated it, there was only one other place in the camp that might have anything they could use.

“Haha, pay up, Harrison!” she could hear Max gloating well before the boy actually came into view.

“No way, when did you put three hotels on the boardwalk?” The other boy argued. “How did you even have money for that, cheater?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. That’s just what you get for putting all your faith in a capitalist system designed to rob you. You get robbed.” Max shrugged, still smirking as he plucked the multicolored bills from the other boy’s hand. His smug look remained even when he saw the counselor approaching him. “Hey Gwen, how long 'til Ered’s dads get here?”

“I don’t know, because we haven’t even been able to call them yet. Phone’s not working.” Gwen shook her head. “Anyone seen Quartermaster?”

“Not since we started playing. Why?" 

"He was supposed to be fixing the phone lines.” She trudged over to the door and put on her jacket. “But in the meantime, I gotta check out the store on the off chance that he’s got another usable phone in there. I’ve got my keys already, so lock the door behind me.”

“Whatever,” Max replied without looking away from the game.

She sighed, “Just fucking do it.”

“I’ll lock up.” Neil raised his hand as he got up from his seat to follow her.

“Thank you Neil,” she said cordially. “At least one of you gives a damn. I’ll be right back.”

“Try not to get axe-murdered!” Max called out as the door slammed shut.

Somehow the rain had gotten worse in the time since she last left the mess hall. She circled the side of the building in a hurry, but the few minutes she was outside were still more than enough time to soak her to the bone. She left dripping footsteps in her wake even after she finally landed inside the door to the Quartermaster’s store. God, she always forgot what a mess this place was. Even after they had rebuilt what was left of following fire, the place was still somehow packed to the gills. She honestly couldn’t tell if it would have been more or less creepy to find that someone else was in there with her. 

“Quartermaster? You there?” she called out. “Sorry, but like it or not I’m coming in.” She shut the door behind her and walked slowly down the narrow aisle that ran between the row of shelves. She’d only been in the Quartermaster’s store a couple of times in the few of years she’d worked at Camp Campbell, but none of those times were ever particularly pleasant. Still, if anywhere in the camp would be home to something they needed, this junk heap was going to be the most likely place. 

Quartermaster had actually organized a little better after the building burned down the first time. After the kids found their way into his cache of more unusual items, much of his own personal effects had been pushed out of sight behind some of the more basic camp supplies. He had his own area to sleep in somewhere in back, but Gwen planned to avoid going over there as much as physically possible. She didn’t even get that far into her building, having barely begun to search before she heard a noise like a knock from outside. 

With any luck, this meant that the phone connection was finally fixed. “There you are! What’s going on Quar-” Gwen’s greeting tapered off into confusion. “Oh.”

Standing outside the door was not the the skeevy old man that she had come to expect, but in his place there were instead two smiling and unfamiliar faces.

“Hello,” the pair said simultaneously. On the left stood a tall, brunette man who looked just shy of middle-aged. On his right stood a slightly younger and more petite-looking woman with a wreath of light brown curls resting on her shoulders. Both were slightly overdressed for the weather in their long coats, but she supposed that it wasn’t that unusual given the heavy rain.

“Uh, hello,” Gwen forced some composure back into her voice. “Can I help you?”

“Maybe, at least that’s what we’re hoping for,” the man said with a sheepish smile as he gestured first to himself and then to his companion. “My name is Brent, and this is Monica. We’re so sorry to bother you like this, Miss, but our car broke down just off the road from here, and we have no way of calling in a tow.”

“Yes, the battery in my phone died a while ago, unfortunately,” the woman added.

Gwen furrowed her brow slightly. “This place is pretty far off from the highway. I’m surprised you were even able to find your way here on foot from the road.”

“I’ll admit, we almost didn’t see it. Luckily there was a bit of chimney smoke visible overhead,” the woman pointed out. “We almost missed it, what with all the rain coming down.”

“Speaking of, I don’t suppose we could come in for a minute?” the man asked. “If we could just use your phone to call for a tow, we would both be incredibly grateful.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.” Gwen shook her head quickly. “But there’s a bus station half a mile to the east. You can go on foot and catch a ride to Sleepy Peak from there." 

She started to shut the door, but the woman stuck her face in the space between it and the door jamb to stop her. "Please! If we could just come in for a second.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything for you. Good luck, ” Gwen shut the door just as a flash of silver penetrated the wood, illiciting a shriek and only narrowly missing her with the sharp point of the blade. No. No, no, no.

“This didn’t have to happen, you know.” The strange woman’s voice dripped from beyond the wood. “But your souls have already been tainted. The only way you can be purified now is for your bodies to be cleansed by pain.”

The knife blade suddenly disappeared, retreating into the wood and giving Gwen just enough time to slam the lock shut before it appeared again, even closer to her than before. She bolted toward the back of the store as her heavy footsteps beat against the floorboards, repeating in an off-key tune with the sharp crack of the knife hitting the door over and over and echoing off each other more loudly each time. Gwen shut off the lights as fast as she could, barreling over stacks of boxes and knocking objects from the packed shelves as she ran past. No, no, no, the word repeated on a loop as panic began to swell inside her brain. God, the kids. She needed to get to them. To the back door. She opened the first shuttered door that entered her field of vision, only to find a half-packed closet instead. Before she could change direction, however, she heard a new sound, close and sharp, like metal hacking on metal. She ducked inside the closet instead, shutting the door hard behind her and slowly lowering her body so that most of her weight rested atop her knees. A few metal hangers hung above her, some occupied and some barren, and she feared every fumble of her fingers as she struggled to bring one down. As quickly as she could, she hooked each end of the triangular wire curve between the doorknob and one of the many coat hooks that rested beside the door jamb. The hacking continued, growing louder before finally being punctured by a slam. Light flooded the underside of the closet door, and Gwen inched back on her heels to try and stay hidden in the shadow. She heard footsteps coming closer, although she couldn’t tell how many. She swallowed her breath in an attempt to keep silent, although every brush of fabric or creak of wood she beneath her sounded as loud to her ears as cracks of thunder might. The footsteps approached, getting even louder still before they finally stopped. She bowed her head and pressed her palms flat against the floorboards. She held her breath as she tried to keep from moving. She could see the edge of some long shadow bleeding into the light beneath the door. The silence that followed was so excruciating that the sudden slam that against the slats of the door was almost a relief. 

Gwen covered her mouth as the pounding against the door continued, then suddenly, the slats were bent forward and pushed through to the other side, and the shards of wood hit her knees as they fell from the fresh hole in the top of the door. She couldn’t make out any features of the face that peered through, but she could see the curving silhouette of it shadowed by the other side of the door. She was on autopilot as she reached a hand up to feel along the back wall, behind the curtain of coat sleeves, and further up toward the bar they hung from. Her fingers snagged a hanger and tore it down just as the first strike of a hand came. She narrowly avoided it, and the metal hanger fell into her lap. Her fingers scrambled over each other as they tore at the knot of wire that cinched it together, puncturing her fingers as she unhooked and untwisted the metal ends. The hand above was still reaching for her—and thankfully still missing—but it was soon replaced by the tip of a blade and the familiar cracks of the wooden slats being hacked apart again. The edges of the hole broke open even wider, and Gwen could now make out the pale edge of a face and the glint of an eye still hidden in a shadowy profile that loomed over her. It leaned forward and she aimed upward, thrusting the pointed end of the wire into the tiny point of light. The shadow recoiled with a scream, shaking the floor below both of them as its owner fell back with a loud thump.

Gwen’s hands clutched at the first object her hand brushed, brandishing it in both hands, and shooting out of the closet as soon she heard the man land. She pounced on him, feet landing on his stomach and her fists pummeling his face. He twitched underneath her and reached out to grab her just as her makeshift weapon crash-landed on the top of his head. His hands fell to his sides, unmoving. Gwen panted, unnerved by the sudden stillness, and she was almost relieved when she felt the man’s chest rise and fall beneath her once again. The white button-down shirt underneath his coat was now stained a watery pink. His nose was bleeding, and she could have sworn that she saw a bit of red seeping from his hairline as well, but as long as he was still alive, she didn’t care. His partner was nowhere to be seen, but Gwen still retreated into the closet for a moment when she realized that he was down. She still had her weapon of choice—a handheld vacuum cleaner—clutched in both her hands. She could see pretty clearly despite the lights being turned off, with the room being well-illuminated by the light beyond the open doorway. Through the blur of rain, she could see a speckled trail of upturned mud trailing off from the footpath.

“Fuck,” Gwen muttered. Her first order of business was to roll her unconscious attacker into the closet, which she managed to do with only a couple of kicks. Her finger was on the call button of her walkie talkie before she’d even finished slamming the door shut.

“David, get Daniel up now,” she quickly rattled off into the receiver. “There are two people here. A man and a woman. They’re bad news. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m going to the mess hall now. Be on the lookout for a brunette woman in a long coat.” She shoved the nearest stack of boxes up against the closet, slamming her weight against them once more for good measure. “Whatever you do, I repeat, don't the door for anyone.”

She didn’t wait for a response before she clicked the button off, her legs still trembling as they carried her out through the back door. The room on other side of the wall was almost exactly as Gwen had left it when she burst through the back door to the mess hall, still brandishing the vacuum and earning a few more shouts from the kids in the process.

“What the fuck?” Max’s voice hitched slightly. 

The roomful of surprised faces that greeted her turned her own expression to one of confusion. “How, h-how—where is she?” Gwen’s voice cracked with surprise that almost immediately turned into worry. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Who? Gwen, what the hell are you talking about?” Max stood up and walked slowly toward her. He looked genuinely concerned at the counselor’s wild-eyed appearance.

“I-is that blood?” Neil pointed a trembling finger at the front of her jacket.

“Did anyone come to the door? Did anyone else come through here?” Gwen said slowly.

“No. The door’s been locked since you left,” Neil said. “What happened to you?

"No, that can't—the woman left. The door was still open, so why didn’t she-” The realization dawned on her, and the crowd of children watched with similar worry as the color drained from her face. She covered her mouth with her free hand, shivering. “Oh my God, David.”

David was busy trying not to fall asleep when he felt his pocket buzz. He reached for the walkie talkie and quickly turned up the volume, but the message crackled in and out too much for him to make out more than a few words. 

“David—get Daniel up—two people—they’re- *bzzzt* to—mess- *bzzzt* DON’T OPEN THE DOOR.”

The rest of her statement turned to static, but it was all David needed to hear to spur him to his feet and toward the bed. "Daniel, Daniel! “ He shook the man until he finally awoke with a jolt. "You’ve got to get up. We need to get out of here.”

“Agh—David? What’s going on?” Daniel sounded more annoyed than concerned as he lifted his body slightly off the mattress.

“Some strange people showed up at the camp. Gwen just called. It sounds bad.”

"What?" The grogginess in Daniel’s voice disappeared. He practically jumped out of the bed only to recoil at the sudden jolt to his still aching head. “What did she say?”

“There were two people. She didn’t describe them but she said not to open the door for anyone.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t leave just yet.” Daniel struggled to get to his feet, and with a bit of a stumble, he made his way across the room and grabbed his still soaking jacket off one of the coat hooks. “Where did she say she was?”

“Still in the mess hall, I think." 

Daniel peered through the blinds. "I can’t see anything outside,” he said. “I’ll go by myself for now. Take the radio, turn off the lights and get under the bed.”

“Um, why?”

“So they don’t see you!” He quickly moved down the row of windows, making sure that the blinds completely covered the view from each one. “It will be safer for everyone if the cabin looks like it’s empty." 

"Daniel, I’m not just gonna hide. And you are in no shape to be running directly into danger right now!” David countered.

“Chances are good that they’ll be more interested in me than in you or Gwen. This is safer.”

“Not for you it isn’t! How do you know that these people are even from the cult anyway?”

“Who else would they be?" 

David’s mouth snapped shut. Okay, he had him there. "What about the kids? I need to be ready to protect them. I can’t do that by hiding under the bed!" 

He walked up to Daniel, who held up his hand to stop him. 

"David,” Daniel said with a strained expression, “None of us are safe right now. But if those people think that this cabin is empty, then we can send the kids over here when the coast is clear.”

“How do you know that you won’t get caught before then?” David chewed at his lower lip, lowering his gaze to the floor. So he was just supposed to lie in wait and hope nobody got hurt? What good would that do?

“David.” Daniel’s hand moved to his shoulder, barely touching him, but just enough to get his attention. “Do you trust me?”

David looked him in the eye, but he didn’t answer.

“Let me rephrase that. David, please trust me,” Daniel said. He kept his voice steady, but there was a hint of a plea in his tone as David felt the man’s fingers lightly squeeze his shoulder.

He inhaled deeply and wrapped Daniel’s fingers in his own. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

He could have sworn he heard a murmured “thank you” from Daniel as the man steered him toward the bed and gestured for him to crawl underneath. Daniel crouched down beside him and held the hanging edge of the blanket open while David curled up on the floor, holding his walkie talkie to his chest.

“I’ll be back,” Daniel said with a nod. He started to pull the blanket back down just as David’s hand reached out to brush over his wrist.

“Promise me,” David demanded  with uncharacteristic forcefulness, but his tone was still laced with more familiar concern.

Daniel leaned down again, just close enough to meet his stare. “I promise”, he said quickly, his final words before he let the fabric fall between them again. His footsteps faded away into silence and finished with the slam of a door, leaving David alone in the dark.

Chapter Text

"So what now?" Neil said.