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Just a creature.
Is that all he is now?
Just a shell of what he used to be. He no longer can fit in any category of the living, instead, he’s something new, different. Something that should be impossible. At least, they wish it was impossible. They wish this was just a mere story they told around the campfire.
“What is your name?”
He watches the monster’s eyes flicker. Jerk from the side of the room straight to meet his own. They are still as blue as they were in the past. He can’t imagine how they could be any brighter. The painful shine of sadness reflecting in them. The anxiety that dripped whenever their eyes met. The solemn intensity.
“Jared Dunn,” he speaks slowly. It’s careful. The question is strenuous, and he conveys it in the tone of his voice.
It’s the first time he listens to him speak, and it hurts even worse that his voice never changed.
Although nothing can hurt as much as the words he said to him.
This isn’t Donald. Not anymore.
“What's the date?” he asks him, desperate to find something he could remember correctly.
“I don't know,” the inhuman figure says quietly.
“Where are we right now?”
“I don't know…”
He inhales deeply, closing his eyes momentarily.
“How did we meet?”
There’s a smiling lining the monstrosity’s face.
“I saw you years ago.” He speaks tenderly, reminiscing on a blissful memory. “You were struggling to find the perfect formula…” He inhales needlessly as he grew lost in the memories. “No one saw what you were doing, but I did. I can never forget that moment. The moment I saw you for the first time. I thought I was going to die- my heart had never beaten so fast. Richard, I… I could never forget meeting the love of my life.”
Richard swallows hard, feeling his stomach twist and turn. His husband’s constrained to the table, his arms locked in place at his sides.
“You don't even remember your own fucking name, but you remember that,” he chokes out. Jared smiles in response, and Richard watches as he looked at his own hand, gazing adoringly at the ring on his left hand.
“Nothing is more important than to me than you,” he sighs.
Richard wants to scream. He wants to tear off those restraints and grab his husband, hold him, love him. He wants to go back to normal. He longs to hold his husband and tell him everything will be okay. Stroke his hair in the way that would make him purr, grip his hand and play with the rings that were on their fingers as they cuddled on the couch.
“Donald,” he sobs, dropping the clipboard in his hands.
This isn’t just another monster. How cruel is fate to make him treat him as such?
“The cure,” Jared says quietly, looking at Richard with those damn sorrowful eyes. “You're so close…” He isn’t like he remembered. His skin is translucent, his veins more prominent than before. His glow, that Richard remembers, has disappeared, replaced with a matte sheen. His hair is disheveled and greying. Bruise like marks cover his skin, and his eyes are hidden behind layers of bruises and a redness that was redolent of his husband’s allergies.
“I-I can't do this,” Richard weeps, turning away from Jared. He glances at the mirror that covers the wall, exhaling deeply as he heard a sad noise escape Jared’s mouth. He can see himself in the mirror. He feels small, insignificant, and inert. His appearance displays how he feels, and he knows he can’t look much nicer than his husband does. He’s physically drained, clumsily dressed in the lab coat he’s required to wear, and his quivering is visible to his own eyes. “Dinesh, unlock the door. I need out.”
Something clicks and Richard begins to walk towards the door.
“Richard,” Jared pleads, causing him to stop in his tracks. “You need sleep. You look worse than death…”
He slams the door on his way out.
-----
“I don't know what to do,” Richard whispers, no, mouths as he paced back and forth in the study room. His head is in his palms, muffled whimpering leaving his lips. He wants to communicate with the others that surround him, but he can’t manage to say much. Every single noise that leaves him turns into an ugly sob.
“... We have to shoot him.”
Richard glances over towards the voice. A scowl covers his face as he made eye contact with his colleague.
“Gilfoyle, you can't just tell him to shoot his husband…” another man whines into his coffee. He’s leaning against a desk, his eyes monitoring the numbers on the projector in front of them. It’s their data on prior cases. Richard hates to see it. He can’t compare Donald to the random nobodies that show up on the screen.
“Shut up, Dinesh,” Gilfoyle argues, folding his arms. He’s looking at the numbers too. They’re looking for anything to use that would imply that this is scientifically different.
“Guys,” Richard interjects, a look of defeat painted on his face. “I don't want to hear you fucking fighting- my-my husband is in there with a fucking time stamp on his forehead…”
“Dick,” Gilfoyle grumbles. He looks like garbage, Richard thinks. No one has been able to focus on anything but Donald. He knows no matter what the two of them say, they don’t want to explore that option either. Donald’s been their friend since the beginning. “We have to figure out what we're doing to do.”
“Wait-” Dinesh interrupts, catching both of their attention. “I didn’t want to say anything, because I think the worst thing I can do is give you false hope but… Richard, when he sees you… he remembers you.”
“Y-Yeah,” Richard whispers, shrugging his shoulders. He looks through the one-sided glass. Jared’s pulling at the restraints on his wrists. He briefly reminds himself he’s lucky that Donald was never very strong, because, thankfully, the virus didn’t give the victims a boost in strength. “B-But that’s just because it hasn’t been very long…”
“Richard,” Dinesh says sympathetically, setting down his coffee. “It’s been… five days.”
“Five?!” Richard exclaims, his eyes widening. “Y-You-”
“We lied,” Gilfoyle says, coming to Dinesh’s defense.
“You told me it happened two days ago,” Richard moans, his voice barely audible.
“If we told you the truth, you would have lost hope,” Dinesh tells him quietly. The virus takes complete hold of someone after seventy-two hours. That was the deadline they enforced when someone was brought to them. “B-But, please, listen to me… there is something different about him…”
“I sent Dinesh in there before you came back,” Gilfoyle tells Richard. “He tried to murder him- got pretty close, actually… Might have been the only cool thing Donald’s done… A disappointment that it was a failure, really.”
“Shut the fuck up- how did you restrain him if he’s already that far along?” Richard asks, hoping for some inconsistency.
“He went willingly,” Dinesh says quietly. “He said to use him as an experiment to see how long it would be before he starved to death, but he was positive that you’d save him before that…”
“This was before…?”
“It was right after he was infected,” Gilfoyle answers him.
“H-How… How did he get infected?” Richard asks. He knows he won’t like the answer, but he needs to know.
“We told him we wanted to work alone,” Gilfoyle speaks. “He kept insisting that we use the cure you developed on someone who was brought in- but we didn’t have your permission. We told him to leave them alone and just stay put.”
“He kept telling us he knew it would work. He said this time it was different, it was special. We refused to use it ourselves, and he… went to do it himself…” Dinesh hesitates, avoiding eye contact with Richard. “You told us not to let him near any of it, so that meant he wasn’t aware of the protocol. He got too close-”
“W-Wait,” Richard gasps, shaking his head. “T-The cure? What happened to it?”
“We don’t know,” Gilfoyle told him. “We can’t find it.”
“Who did he go to help? How is their condition?” Richard asked desperately.
“Bighead shot them the second we got wind of what was happening… They didn’t seem to be changed at all, though…”
“Donald took the cure,” Richard says quickly, glancing at his husband through the window. “Th-That’s why he’s still stable…”
“But how much time does that give us?” Gilfoyle asks, displaying the pessimistic attitude he always held onto.
“L-Let’s just move as fast as we can,” Richard says. Jared’s relaxed in the seat, and his heart aches at the thought that his husband so willingly volunteered to starve himself to death. “It’s the least we can do for him…”
----
Richard can’t sleep. They spent the day scrambling for a cure, and despite Richard’s protests, they break for a brief few hours of sleep. He's back in the study room, quietly sitting down at a computer.
”Richard?” Donald asks him. He's woken up after falling asleep at the desk. Donald places his hand on his back, rubbing up and down. Even through the fabric, he can feel how cold the other man’s hand is.
“What time is it…?” he replies, forcing himself up from the keyboard.
“Three thirty,” Donald whispers, wrapping his long arms around Richard’s much smaller body. He feels safe whenever Donald holds him. Like nothing can hurt him. He feels himself melting in his touch, beginning to forget his work for the night. “Come to bed, darling… It's cold without you…”
The tears start spilling again. He misses Donald. He knows he can turn his head and see ‘him', but…
The two of them met over five years prior, and they were inseparable since. Their relationship didn't stay platonic very long. Richard remembers the moment he fell in love with his husband. The exact instant.
”What?” Donald asks him gently, melodic laughter escaping from his mouth. He's handing Richard a cup of coffee. Milk, two spoonfuls sugar. Careful as to not be too strong. Donald prefers to make tea, but they've begun to run short of it. He wants to save it for special occasions. His eyes glide from the cup back to the person standing beside him. His shoulders drop. Donald’s not dressed any different. Nothing special. He's still wearing that green vest that he's so fond of. Although, he can't rip his eyes away. “Richard,” he says, sitting down across from him. Donald’s stirring his coffee for him. “You're staring at me.” Those striking blue eyes seem insecure, unable to handle the attention.
“Donald, you're gorgeous.”
He smiles at him in response, and Richard holds out a hand instinctively. Donald takes it and squeezes it. He squeezes tight enough that Richard will never be able to wipe the feeling of his hand in his.
Life isn't fair. Nothing's fair.
Donald never deserved any of this. Richard wishes he never let him get close- he wishes he made him stay with Gavin Belson. He wouldn't be so close to the virus this way.
Richard looks through the glass. It's still Jared. He's calm, and he almost seems peaceful.
He stands up. That's not his husband anymore, but he can't bear to be separated from him any longer. He almost wishes he weren't an atheist just so he could have something to pray to. Just almost.
He unlocks the door and walks inside, gaining Jared’s attention. He sits up, a smile on his white lips.
“Richard,” he says quietly. He sounds shocked and excited.
He sighs and pulls up a chair.
“What do you remember about yourself?” Richard whispers quietly. “And not me. You. About you.”
Jared pauses. He opens his mouth, but it quickly shuts. Richard takes that an answer.
“... Was that really your life, Donald? … Me?” he whispers.
“Richard,” Jared sighs. Richard knows he wants to touch him. He's not alone in that aspect. “I… love you. I love you so much…”
He hangs his head and pulls his legs to his chest, hugging them tightly.
The two of them married quickly. Maybe not even three months after they met. The virus was spreading quickly, and neither of them was sure how much longer they'd still be here.
“In two months, we were going to have our five year anniversary…” Richard mumbles, twisting the ring on his finger. “We almost made it five years, Donald… Five fucking years, and we were scared of not being able to make it a week.”
“It's not over,” Jared whispers in response. He sounds desperate. Forcing Richard to take his side of the conversation. “I remember my faith in you.”
Richard trembles as he looks at what used to be his husband. What should be his husband.
“You think I can get you back…?” he croaks out.
“I know you can do anything you put your mind to,” Jared replies softly.
The way Donald’s true personality leaks out when he’s talking about him.
“I miss you…” he whispers, but he gets no response. “The bed has felt so cold… You always told me to prepare for this to happen, but I can't do it. I can't imagine living without you…”
Losing someone’s something they're supposed to be ready for. Even in the crafted vault, things can happen. Donald’s mistake had proven this.
“You make me wish I never left,” he says quietly. “I can't believe I left you to go meet Gavin fucking Belson…” He pauses before he looks at him, his brows furrowed. “D-Do you remember what happened?”
“No,” Jared says quietly. He’s hesitant, and his eyes darted away at Richard’s mournful expression.
Richard stands up from the seat. He wants to touch Jared- some part of him thinks that maybe if he can caress his husband, he’ll become who he used to be. He knows exactly what Dinesh and Gilfoyle will tell him; Contact of any kind leaves an opening.
Richard briefly thinks of the cons of turning himself.
“If anyone can save you, it’s gonna be me,” he says sadly. “Right…?”
Jared merely nods, and Richard leaves the room.
----
No one leaves Richard alone after that night. Dinesh was able to see on the security camera that Richard had been with Jared unsupervised. Now, the only time he’s alone is when he’s in the bathroom. No one wants him to do something he’ll regret.
He’s writing something for the cure, and his head is pounding. He’s been crying so much that he no longer produces tears, all that happens is he gets a fucking headache.
Bighead- Nelson, is sitting beside him at the table. Gilfoyle and Dinesh are sleeping after they’ve been trading shifts babysitting Richard. They’re working in a new room, just so Richard doesn’t have to see what’s happening to his husband.
Richard sets down the pen and Bighead looks over at him, his eyes overflowing with concern. That’s the only look he’s been given, but something about the way Bighead’s mouth opens as if he has to say something makes Richard’s heart sinks.
Bighead was his best man at his wedding. He has enough memories of him to replace his entire timeline with Donald, but all he can recall as he looks at his best friend is the happiness he felt at his wedding.
He remembers Donald holding him and crying him after they kissed for the first time as spouses. His husband sobbing into his shoulder for the first time. His hand running up to his husband’s hair to calm him down.
Donald must be dying in that shell, knowing what it’s doing to Richard. He knows that part of his husband is still there, and he knows that he’s suffering. Donald would walk on glass just to avoid making Richard upset. The Donald inside of Jared is in more pain that Richard can understand.
“The fucking… love of my life is…”
“You’ll save him,” Bighead tries to reassure him.
Richard watches as he opens up his arms and he takes the chance to bury his face in his chest. He’s gross, but he doesn’t care. He clings to his best friend as he holds him, and a bittersweet sensation overcomes him.
“I miss him so much,” he weeps.
“I do too,” Bighead responds numbly.
-----
Jared’s starting to deteriorate. They’re seeing how long it lasts before starvation finally hits. It’s been two weeks, and Richard’s scrambling for something- anything.
”Richard, you’re a genius. There’s nothing out there you can’t handle.”
Dinesh is handling the cure. Richard’s close to praying to a non-existent higher power that it will work. He wants his husband back. He wants to see him happy. He wants to hug him and tell him that everything will be okay.
”Richard?” Donald asks him. They’re in their bed. Donald’s the large spoon tonight, and Richard’s holding his hand in his. He’s spinning Donald’s ring. He’s so proud to know that he’s his.
“What is it?” he asks him softly, sighing as Donald nuzzles him gently with his nose.
“If anything ever happens to me and you don't have a cure,” he whispers, “I want you to shoot me. I don’t want to live as one of those monsters… I just want to know that you’re safe from me…”
Richard scowls, holding his hand tighter. “Donald, I don’t want to hear this talk from you, please-”
“I’m asking this of you,” his husband whispers. The feeling of his breath on his ear sends chills down Richard’s neck.
He doesn’t agree to it.
He knows how much it hurts Donald to know that he never kept his promise, but he can’t give up. He’ll understand when he’s finally able to hold him again, safe, loved, warm…
Dinesh hands him the cure. He’s hesitant and worried.
“Do you think this will work?” he asks him under his breath. He's been falling apart too. As much as he cares about Donald, Richard knows he's putting himself in his shoes. The question of what he would do for Gilfoyle has been weighing on his brain.
“It’s gotta,” Richard sighs as he holds it in his hands. This has to be it. The key to getting his husband back. He doesn’t have a choice but to try it. They haven’t been able to experiment with it, but Jared’s on his last leg.
They’re cautious about letting Richard into the room with Jared, but they know it’d be futile to stop him.
Jared’s not moving much, but he still looks over at him. He’s smiling at him, his eyes carefully following him.
Richard stops a few feet from him. If Jared wanted to, he could lunge. He could take a chunk out of his skin. He could infect him.
Honestly, if he couldn’t save his husband, Richard wasn’t going to mind if he turned him.
He grabs his shoulder and took the vial. Jared’s eyes widen with shock, and Richard feels his heart drop. Donald… Donald hasn’t been touched in weeks. Adoring, loving, caring, needy Donald hasn’t been touched.
“Have you come to finally kill me…?” he asks, his voice broken.
Richard silences him with the vial. He watches as it drips in his mouth, oozing down his clammy chin. Jared is trembling, vibrating, shaking.
“I am so sorry,” Richard whispers, knowing the tears are coming again. He can't believe he's doing this to the love of his life. “I could never live without you, Donald…”
Jared’s eyes fall shut, and Richard chooses to repent to him. He has to apologize somehow, and he doesn’t care about the consequences. All he wants this entire time is to feel his husband again.
Fully aware of what he was doing, he kisses him. He hopes for the cure to work and save them from the misery of this aftermath, but he surrenders to the fate. A world without his husband is no world at all.