Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wilford stared down at the boy. There were no more scratches, no more evidence he had ever been hurt or had ever moved the entire night.

The faintest rays or early morning light filtered into the small room, slowly combating against the darkness. Mark laid fast asleep, face peaceful and calm. You would have never guessed that anything in the past few months had ever happened. He would probably act like that as well, act like nothing had ever happened. The boy, at least according to The Host, wouldn’t remember a thing.

It would be better that way.

“How did you know?” Wilford asked quietly, keeping his gaze on Mark.

“How did The Host know what?”

The mustached being scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. How did you know Mark would be able to get the beast out of Dark, especially since that wasn’t what we did to get it out of you?”

From the corner of his eye, The Host shifted, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He seemed to consider the question for a long moment before answering. “The Host just knew. Dark needed to see and hear from Mark himself how Dark hurt him. He would not listen to The Host and Wilford.”

Wilford sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He could hear the sounds of birds waking up and starting the new day now.

“Will Mark be alright?” Wilford asked. It was more of a rhetorical question the more he thought about it, but he had to know. The boy didn’t react very well that last time they tried to take his memories away, and as Dark proved, the barriers holding them could be broken.

The bandaged being sighed, fingers hovering in the air for a moment as he thought.

“Mark will be alright,” he said. “But Dark may not be. Dark was possessed by the beast and he broke a bond. It might take him a long time to get back to normal.” The Host turned away from the boy and into the outside, the sunlight making the blond streak in his hair shine like gold.

Wilford hummed to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels. Random thoughts and impulses tried to enter his mind, and he blocked them the best he could for the moment, but soon they would win. They always did, the madness in his mind never giving in. It was better when he was in Mark’s mind, when they both shared the burden of madness, but it was bad for the boy to be around it for long. In fact, this time had been the longest amount of time Wilford had been in Mark’s mind in a long time. If he had stayed there even longer, who knows what would have happened.

“Is the beast gone for good?” the mustached being questioned, a sour taste in his mouth as he asked. He would have loved to tear it piece by piece until it was nothing but ash, but he couldn’t do that.

“The Host would like to inform Wilford that the beast will never truly leave Mark,” the bandaged being said plainly, like it wasn’t important in the slightest.

Wilford whipped around to face The Host, a look of simmering rage on his face. “What do you mean it will never truly leave Mark?” he hissed. “And why didn’t you tell me this before?”

The Host’s fingers stopped, tilting his head back. “That beast, despite what Wilford wants to believe, is apart of Mark just like he or Dark or The Host. It is all the bad things the boy could be, or even is,” he turned to face Wilford. “Believe what you want, Mark is not a little angel in disguise, as much as Wilford wants him to be. The beast is all his flaws and bad thoughts, rolled up into one horrible creature. The Host didn’t tell you because frankly, not even he knew about this until recently.”

The mustached being stared at The Host for a good, long few seconds, trying to find any sign of him lying, but there was nothing. He was rarely wrong, except for the moments when he lied, that is.

Wilford pushed away the thought that said he should kill The Host right then and there, squeezing his hand into a fist to feel his nails dig into his palms. Maybe Dark was right: what kind of personality was he supposed to be? If left unchecked, he could bring the boy to insanity with a simple thought. It was amazing that he hadn’t managed to do it yet, given all he’s done.

“The Host thinks that Wilford should watch over the boy more from now on.”

The mustached being blinked in disbelief, not sure if what he heard was correct. The Host wanted him, a crazy killer that routinely listened to the voices in his head to watch over someone as fragile as Mark? What the Hell was that all about?

“If you really think that, then maybe you’re the crazy one, not me.”

The corner of The Host’s lips twitched upwords for a moment before returning back to their usual down expression. “The Host believes that it will help protect Mark, after all, the reason Dark went so long without without being stopped was because someone wasn’t watching him. This could be a… wall of sorts, to protect him.”

“Can’t you do it?” Wilford snapped without realizing it.

“The Host cannot leave Mark’s mind physically, but Wilford,” he placed his finger on Wilford’s chest. “Wilford can. You can protect Mark better than The Host ever could.”

The mustached being considered this. As long as he stayed far enough away that the boy wouldn’t notice or feel his presence… in theory it should be fine. But Wilford knew his own mind, how it thought, how it would pressure him to get closer to Mark and to do many things.

But he could resist it. He’s done it before, and if it meant protecting to the boy, he could do it again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”

A small, sad smile appeared on The Host’s face, like he knew that there were hardships ahead, even if they hadn’t already happened yet. Wilford hated when he did that, knowing that the bandaged actually did know the future, at least in a sketchy, not quite clear version of it that was forever changing.

“The Host knows that Wilford will do a good job. The Host will also help as much as he can, even if he cannot be there physically,” The Host put his hand on the mustached being’s shoulder, as if it trying to be comforting. Wilford didn’t push it away, but it sat there like a piece of lead.

“I know,” Wilford said quietly. He took another look at Mark, watching his chest rise and fall steadily. Sure, he would love to see him every day, but there was still that lagging fear that something would go wrong. Every time any of them got close to the boy, disaster stuck, and it struck hard. There was no telling what could happen, even if Wilford did keep his distance. He faced The Host again, shrugging off his hand and telling him, “I’m going to check on Dark.”

The Host pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding shortly in acceptance. Wilford didn’t wait any longer, melting into the corner of Mark’s mind where Dark was, a empty and desolate place.

The dark being was in the middle of it all, chains of light blue around his wrists, much weaker than the ones from before, but still strong enough to keep him down. He didn’t have the beast in him anymore, yes, but you never knew what was going on in Dark’s head, and for all they knew, the beast was still somehow controlling him. Wilford didn’t like keeping Dark locked up like this, but for now, it was necessary.

Dark didn’t seem to notice him at first, limbs remaining slack and lifeless as his black eyes stared into the nothing around him. The mustached being felt a pang of pity looking at him, seeing the black blood that still oozed from his wounds run down his face and ruined suit. His aura was barely moving, the hum so low that it might as well have been nothing. Black cracks could be seen moving under his skin like a snake, shifting his very bones and features as Wilford stood there, the after curse that came with breaking a bond. It must have hurt like a sonofabitch, but the dark being stayed motionless and unreactive, a dead corpse in the middle of nowhere. It disturbed Wilford a little, seeing that he’s dumped many of dead bodies in deserted areas to keep then hidden. Dark looked just like that; left to be forgotten and rot while the killer got away scot free.

Wilford coughed into his hand, trying to get the image out of his mind. “Hello, Dark,” he addressed, hoping to catch the others attention. The dark being merely blinked, that being the only indication that he heard the other at all. The cracks under his skin thickened, the snapping of a bone echoing through the world, and Wilford flinched. Dark exhaled through his nose, but otherwise didn’t do anything else to show pain.  

“You still doing alright, old chap?”

Once again, no reply. Wilford supposed it was a stupid question anyway, given the others predicament. But what kind of conversation are you supposed to make here, with the things that just happened between them? He knew he said he would check up on Dark, but now, he wasn’t so sure. What if he came back one day and the dark being was gone, faded from existence? Then Mark would be left without not one, but two critical parts of himself. They were already struggling without Bim to give him humanity, but without his dreams or fears, he’ll be nothing but a blank piece of paper, nothing to trigger his imagination and no way to make a personality. They were all connected that way, one couldn’t do their job without the other two. Sure, Wilford and The Host managed while Dark wasn’t able to form for a long time, but that’s when they knew he would eventually come back. There was no coming back from fading.

Bim was enough to prove that.

Wilford stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the inky ground below his feet. It was surprisingly cold he noticed, not sure how he didn’t realize it before. The mustached being half expected there to be frost on the ground like there was in the real world, but this wasn’t the real world. This was the inside of a young boy’s mind in one of the darkest corners, a prison for the most horrible beasts and beings, which at the moment, just so happened to be his own dreams and nightmares personified.  

The mustached being crouched down, getting as eye level as he could with the darker being. The others void eyes didn’t see him, looking past as if he was invisible. There was some sort of recognition in them, a small sign of life, but it was almost nonexistent. Wilford reached his hand out as if to touch him, but pulled back, not sure what he would do. Straighten the ruined tie around his neck? Try to stop the blood rolling down from his injuries? Comfort him?

Wilford sighed heavily, searching for anything in Dark’s eyes that resembled life. It was there in a way, but it was deeply glazed over. The being was so far into his own thoughts that he hardly processed the world around him, including Wilford, who was nose to nose with him.

“Mark’s doing fine, if you want to know.”

That seemed to awaken a small part in Dark, his pupils twitching towards Wilford’s voice. The mustached being smiled grimly, telling the other all the details he could think of.

“Yeah. He has some scarring, but The Host took care of that willy nilly, so nothin’s on him now. The beast is gone too but,” he paused, not sure if he should say the part about it being apart of Mark like he or Dark. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things it felt like. He didn’t finish that thought, moving on. “Hosty thinks I should watch him more, protect him and such. Someone needs to til’ you get better, right?” Wilford chuckled, trying to make the air lighter. Dark’s eyelids fluttered once, and the other took it as a good sign.

Wilford felt his own mood darken, however, watching the cracks under Dark’s skin move around like a colony of ants. Being this close to the other, he could hear them moving and snapping bones like it was nothing, a punishment for breaking his promise to help protect Mark. He did exactly the opposite, didn’t he? All because of that damned beast.

And now, Dark was being reduced to nothing but a bag of broken bones. His posture wasn’t near as straight and perfect as it once was, shoulders not quite in place, neck sticking out at an odd angle. Having wounds and injuries wouldn’t exactly kill being’s like them, but it would hurt like a bitch until it healed, and with a curse like this, it probably never would.

Wilford wanted to feel empathy for the other, he really did, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t. Dark hurt Mark, and badly. He tried to kill Wilford and The Host, all in the name of keeping the boy all to himself. Yes, the beast did control him for the most part, but it was still Dark’s hand, his words, his presence, his darkest thoughts brought to life. He made the promise, he broke it, and in the end, there was no one to blame but himself.

“I hope you’re happy,” Wilford couldn’t stop himself from saying bitterly. “For hurting me, The Host, saying that Bim deserved to die, for letting that beast take a hold of you, and doing it all in the crazy idea that you were the only one that could possibly protect Mark. I hope it was worth all the pain, the pain that we’ve all been through before and tried to avoid again.” He looked over Dark’s broken body again. “His mind nearly shattered because of you. Mark could have died. That beast could have taken him and then discarded you like gum off the bottom of his shoe,” the mustached being stood up from where he was crouched, looking off into the blank distance. He didn’t regret saying what he said. Every word was true, and Dark knew it, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I guess I’ll have to protect Mark from you now, eh?” Wilford jokes. “You’re a liability, a ticking bomb waiting to blow up in everyone's faces.” There was no sound from the dark being, but Wilford could sense his mind working, something like concealed anger and despair. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

The mustached being sighed again.

“I hope you get better Dark, I really do. Mark can’t go through those nightmares again, it’ll hurt him more than any of us would like to admit. But for now,” he took one last, good look at Dark. “For now you have to stay here. Maybe you’ll figure out where you went wrong… you’ll figure out how to deal with whatever sick pleasure you got from hurting us and keeping Mark for yourself. I don’t know if you will or not,” he turned around, walking away from this dark corner of the boy’s mind and towards the outside world.

“Goodbye, old friend.”

Just before Wilford left completely, he heard the faint words, “goodbye Wilford.”

Dark stared at the space where the mustached being just was, mind muddled with pain and thoughts. His bones cracked, shifting into a new place, and he allowed himself to wince, just this once. The cracks under his skin were becoming vines, growing longer and thicker with each moment, disfiguring him even more.

He deserved this. Every last moment of the pain for what he did to Mark.

Mark. That was his only ache, to see the boy once again, to hold him and to tell him how sorry he was, that he loved him with all of his heart. But he couldn’t do that, not while he was chained here.

That damned beast. He should have never let it control him the way it did. He should have never said what he did about Bim. He shouldn’t have done so many things, and yet he did, and now he lived to regret all of them.

The worst part? He could still hear the beast in his head. It didn’t control him anymore, it wasn’t there anymore, but if felt like the ghost of his presence was still speaking in his mind, edging him on. This must have been what The Author felt, being manipulated like that, putty in the beasts hands.

Another spike of pain, in his spine this time. Dark grinded his teeth, keeping every muscle still and unmoving. He would not be beaten by some pain, even if he knew deep down that it would never go away. It was curse. It lasted as long as it wanted to. It would make sure he was snapped and tortured until he was nothing but broken bones.

“When you’re tucked away in bed,” Dark started singing, voice cracking and dry.

“Eyes shut tight in the darkness,

“When the visions inside your head,

“Becoming haunting and lifeless,

“Just call my name,

“And I’ll appear by your side,

“I’ll give you sweet dreams,

“Than they always try to hide,

“I’m your beautiful nightmare

“Trapped within you soul

“The lullaby of the Dark-” he cut himself off, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t deserve to sing this song, a song that Mark associated with happiness and security. The cracks seemed to protest as his singing, sending spikes of white hot pain through his body in retaliation. The dark being shook from the pain, shoulders trembling and tears burning the corners of his eyes.

“Shall-shall-” Dark tried, the pain becoming worse. But he was stubborn. He would not be this curse’s bitch. He will stand his own. He will see Mark again one day, and when he does, he’ll protect with everything he had.

Dark growled to himself, pushing through the pain until he finally whispered.

“Shall forever be there, always know.”

And he simply fell to the empty ground, withering and gasping. The pain was more bearable now, at least to him it was. He turned to his back, not caring about the shifting bones.

“I hope you all can forgive me,” Dark choked out, letting himself sink into his thoughts and the darkness and the nothing.

In the abyss of nothing, even further down in the cavern, two red eyes could be seen glowing in the darkness. It knew it was defeated this time, but it wouldn’t be stopped so easily. It would have what it wanted, even if it had to wait 100 years for it.

But for now, it faded it’s consciousness went to nothing, waiting for the next time it could rise to take over once again.