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“You are lucky to be alive right now.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice, Host.” Mark groaned, sitting up in the narrow hospital bed. He looked around him, confused. “I feel like shit. Wh-”
“The Host would advise Mark to lie down,” the Host said, nervously. “His injuries could be more severe than is apparent, and Dr. Iplier–”
“He’s awake? Host, why didn’t you call for me?” Dr. Iplier burst into the room, flicking the lights on as he hurried to Mark’s side.
Mark immediately moaned and lay his head back, the sudden light stabbing into his eyes. “Doc–” he could feel, if not see, the Doctor feeling at his sides, his head. The pain began to hit him in waves. “–what happened?”
Dr. Iplier looked up at him, eyes wide. “What do you remember?”
“The Host would like to remind the Doctor that if Mark has lost his memory, it would be best to not overwhelm him.”
“Right, right.”
Mark heard shuffling, Dr. Iplier moving away, and then the click of a light switch. Mark opened his eyes slowly, the room now dim.
The Host sat in a chair at his side, and the Doctor hurried back, bending over to poke gently at Mark’s bandaged ribs. As careful as he was, Mark could feel a stabbing pain in his chest as he tried to breathe. What…
The Host sniffled a little, and Mark remembered.
Darkiplier had been so upset, but had hid it so well. Even while the whole team was in the office, recording videos, chatting with the Egos, he had hidden it. It was only when Amy, well-meaning, had gone to Dark’s office to ask him if he wanted dinner, that he’d snapped.
He’d screamed, broken, then. Loud enough for the rest of the building to stop what they were doing and start running towards his room.
The Googles had gotten there first, robotic limbs faster than the rest of them. Mark was close behind in a panic, shoving through the droids as they stood, unsure, outside the door.
The scene hurt to look at.
The best way he could describe it, even now, was a tornado. Black smoke whipped around the room, almost concealing the figure in the center of the destroyed office. Dark, his impeccable suit in tatters, stood in the middle of it all. The room seemed awash in black and white, but it wasn’t this that struck terror into the hearts of everyone watching from the doorway.
Amy, a spot of golden hair in the grayed-out room, was struggling past swirling tendrils of miasma, staggering towards the center of the room.
Towards Dark.
“Mark, the Host is concerned; are you okay?” The Host’s words startled Mark out of his reverie.
“I’m– uh–” His heart was hammering, chest aching with the force of it. Mark sat up fully, looking around the room in a panic. “Wh– what happened to Amy?”
Dr. Iplier turned from his workstation, where he was winding bandages. Mark’s eyes darted between the two of them; a guilty look flitted across the Host’s face.
“She’s okay,” the Doctor said, quickly, walking over. “She and Tyler are still here, they’re sleeping.”
“And everyone else? Are they okay? Dark–”
The Host flinched, and began speaking very quickly. “The Googles require some repairs, but Mark was the only one hurt in the collapse.” His voice faltered, and when he spoke again, he sounded almost remorseful. “The Host is very sorry that he allowed this to happen.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Host,” Mark said, haltingly. He hated the way the Doctor stared at him, almost with pity. “What–” he said, turning away from Dr. Iplier’s searching stare, towards the Host, face drowned in shadow, “–what did happen?” His voice came out smaller than he expected, and he swallowed hard.
As Dr. Iplier walked back to his work, the Host explained. With every word, Mark furrowed his brow and felt panic, then fear, then anger rise inside him.
“Mark and the rest of the party had graciously invited the Host and the other Egos to dinner, but Darkiplier did not show up. Miss Amy had asked the Host to, quote, ‘cover for her,’ as she went upstairs. The Host promises that he did not know what she intended to do. If he had–”
The Host’s voice was shaking, and Mark pretended not to see as a blood-red tear slipped down his cheek. With a sniff, the Host straightened his back in the hospital chair and continued.
“Miss Amy, the Host believes, entered Darkiplier’s room to convince him to join the rest of the party at dinner, when Darkiplier reached a point of peak rage. This– Darkiplier’s anger storms– is something that happens semi-regularly, but none of the Egos have ever dared to enter his room during one.”
The Host smiled shakily. “Save for Wilford, once, who was promptly ejected, covered in tar.” Mark gave him a quiet chuckle before waiting, silently, for him to go on. Across the room, he knew the Doctor wasn’t really winding bandages, but listening intently.
The Host went on: “Miss Amy, doubtlessly attempting to stop the storm or c-comfort Darkiplier,” he stuttered, “pressed into the room, at which point he screamed, alerting the rest of the party, who were still in the kitchen.”
Here, the Host hung his head guiltily. “The Host did not accompany them,” he whispered, “because he thought his presence would be unimportant, if not unhelpful.”
Mark reached over with a wince to place a hand over the Host’s, on his lap, while wrapping the other hand around the stabbing pain in his side.
“The Host now realizes that, had he been present, the events following could have been avoided.”
Dr. Iplier, roused by Mark’s movement, walked over to gently push Mark down into a reclining position. Mark, noting the way the Host flinched at the physical contact, let himself be repositioned.
“Regardless,” the Host said, finding his voice, “Miss Amy was not hurt. When Mark saw her making her way into Darkiplier’s room, he ran after her. Mark’s presence caused Darkiplier to turn around, and at the sight, his anger peaked.”
The Host faltered, trembling now, unable to go on. Dr. Iplier spotted Mark’s raised eyebrow and stopped the question from leaving his lips.
“When Dark got upset,” the Doctor sighed, “–that is to say, more upset– he lost all control. Dark has power, and a lot of it, and when it all came out…” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“The ceiling collapsed on you.” Mark turned too quickly, and the world swam before his eyes. There was a blur of gold, and two all-too familiar arms were wrapped around him.
A beat passed, and an unmistakably Tyler-sounding cough came from the doorway.
“Miss Amy, Mark is still quite hurt,” Dr. Iplier said, sounding uncomfortable.
She released him, and Mark blinked a few times before her face came into focus.
She smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless.
She tucked her hair behind her ear as Tyler walked over, looking at Mark with a pained expression.
“You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, you’ll live,” quipped the Doctor, scooting back to allow the other two to pull up chairs by the bed.
Mark rolled his eyes, but looked towards them. His best friends. “Are you guys okay?”
Tyler sighed, rubbing his head. “The Googles dug both of you and–” he shot a quick glance at the Host “–uh, him– out of the wreckage pretty quickly. The rest of us are just a bit shocked, is all.”
“Ethan and Kathryn went home,” Amy explained, looking at Tyler. “They needed a break after getting Wilford and Bim settled down.”
“The Host would like to request leave from you all,” he spoke up quietly, while standing. “He has been by Mark all night, and would like to rest.”
“I’ll come with you, Host,” Dr. Iplier said, and with a nod and small “bye!”‘s from Tyler and Amy, took his arm and walked away.
Mark, once they were out of earshot, turned back to the others. “Okay, what the fuck happened to Dark?”
“He got mad,” Amy shrugged, looking guilty. Her eyes dropped into her lap. “If I hadn’t gone in, he wouldn’t have– I mean–”
Mark reached to grasp her hand before Tyler held him back, against the pillows. Amy reached out for his arm instead.
“Never,” she looked up, eyes flashing, “run in after me like that again.”
Mark could suddenly see why she and Kathryn got along so well. Swallowing a smile, he nodded and squeezed her fingers. Amy shook her head, but the hint of a smile lingered on her lips.
“He’s in his room,” Tyler said, answering the unasked question. “He wasn’t hurt– he and Amy were both shielded, somehow. He’s resting, for now, but I expect both you and Will will want to talk to him, later.”
Mark nodded, chuckled, a little darkly. “He just wanted to hurt me, didn’t he.”
It was a statement, not a question, and it hovered in the air for a moment.
Tyler cleared his throat. “He didn’t stop you though. We got there in time, and after Will is done with him, he’s not going to be a problem for a while.”
Amy affirmed his words with a little smirk, but her grin faded quickly to concern. “Mark, you can’t beat yourself up over this. God knows he already has, and anyway, we won this time.”
“’This time.’“
“I would punch you if you weren’t already in the hospital,” Tyler sighed, leaning back.
“I’m lucky enough to be alive this time.” Mark shook his head tiredly. “How long until we can leave?”
Amy smiled. “The Egos have powers, right? Well, Dr. Iplier’s seems to be healing. He’ll have you back to 100% within the week.”
Mark nodded, knowing he should be grateful for such a speedy recovery, but his mind was spinning. This world– characters, versions of himself with magical powers, an evil entity that tried to kill him– was too much for him to deal with.
Tyler, seeing Mark’s face pale, put a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “I think you need to rest, Mark.”
They rose, Amy squeezing Mark’s hand one last time in hers. She’d never admit it, but the sight of him laying prone in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages and pale, scared her more than anything. The two of them exited quietly, and Mark closed his eyes to sleep.
Yes, this world was terrifying. Things wanted to kill him, take over his channel, hurt the people he loved. But in the end, that was the world he lived in. And, despite the bandages around his ribs and the stabbing pain every time his chest rose and fell, he was doing pretty damn well in this world.
He thought of the Doctor smiling warmly, the Host confiding in him, Bim staring at him with eyes sparkling, Wilford pretending to be aloof, even the Googles eyeing him with respect. He thought of Ethan and Tyler’s hands against his back, Kathryn’s half-joking, half-mocking laugh. Amy tucking her hair behind her ear. He thought of the pressure of her hands on his, and smiled into the darkness. He was doing pretty damn well.