Chapter Text
Whatever 'special dose’ of the Rainbow chemical agent those Mayer goons drugged Desmond with must have been extra potent, because he still doesn’t seem any closer to waking back up.
Figures. He finally manages to get out of his own head, only to get stuck in it in an entirely different (and more literal) way.
At least he knows Lucas did come through for him. He got another call from the radioman, informing Desmond he’d found him out cold in his office, and took him to a safer location where he’s now keeping an eye on him. So there’s that worry dealt with.
Rather than just sit around and feel useless, Desmond has been trying to do what he can from within the Collective Unconscious to better prepare for taking on Mayer and their government sponsors. He’s revisited his patients' tapes, searching around their associated mindscapes for any scraps of info he might’ve missed. It feels a bit weird being back in these places with no hostile inkblot creatures or his patients' shadows around. Not that he’s complaining about not having to fight for his life, of course, but still. Virginia, Allen, and Max's tapes are left feeling… lonely.
As for Lucas' tape, while his shadow is thankfully no longer patrolling this mental version of Elysium Park, Desmond has been able to contact the man himself again while in here. Mainly just to ask for updates on what’s going on ‘outside,’ and to assure Lucas that he’s doing fine in here. Brief as they are, the chats are still very much welcome.
When he’s not out trying to gather more intel, Desmond’s been doing one of the only other things he really can do in here- thinking. A lot of thinking.
And the one thing he keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to over and over again is Agent Rainbow. Not the chemical agent that caused all of this madness, but his shadow of the same name.
…His very, very weird shadow.
The more Desmond’s thought about it, the more off it seems. His own shadow is so strikingly different compared to those of his patients, and he can’t figure out exactly why that would be. The others' shadows felt like they were one and the same as the people they were part of, while Rainbow… feels entirely foreign to Desmond. There’s no way you could ever mistake either of them for each other. About the only things they even have in common is a shared passion for music and taste in hats. Is it because he wasn’t overtaken by his shadow like the others had been? That could be it. Or maybe... it’s because Rainbow represented some of Desmond’s fears about outward threats? He wasn’t just voicing all of Desmond’s insecurities about himself, but also embodied his paranoia about whatever possible conspiracy was related to all the craziness going on in town, hence the government agent get-up.
But then again... Allen’s shadow was mostly related to his fears of the dark, and the monsters he believed to lurk within. Outward threats. Yet the Shade still felt and spoke like it was Allen himself. Allen, who isn’t dead, but stuck in a coma, just like Desmond more or less is. And then there’s Lucas, who isn’t dead or in a coma, but his shadow still acted just like the others- like it was Lucas.
So maybe it is just because Desmond was never consumed by his shadow... but that still just doesn’t feel quite right. It doesn’t feel like a proper explanation for Rainbow. Why does he seem to know things Desmond doesn’t? Why does he share his name with the chemical agent? Why does he hate cats so much??
Desmond almost, almost wishes he could just ask the guy himself. He hasn’t heard a peep from his stalking shadow since his rooftop chat with Tonia, which honestly, he’s been thankful for.
…But he could swear he’s seen him sneaking around again. More than once, Desmond’s pretty sure he caught a brief flash of purple and yellow out the corner of his eye. But ONLY small peripheral sightings like that. No unsolicited phone calls or sneaking up behind Desmond to do pirouette while saying something demotivational like before. If Rainbow really is stalking him again, he’s keeping a wide berth from Desmond. He also only seems to be stalking him within the apartment building, as Desmond’s never caught a single glimpse of him during any of his tape revisits.
Maybe that asskicking he got left a lasting impression. Perhaps, Rainbow’s dialed back on the torment because Desmond’s made it clear it doesn’t affect him as much as the creep would like.
In any case, asking Rainbow what his deal truly is isn’t really on the table. And so, Desmond can only wonder.
Right now though, he’s busy doing some wandering rather than wondering. The water level outside seems to have gone down just enough that the lower two floors are no longer flooded. Desmond had decided to head down to the basement and see how bad the water damage was.
And it’s pretty bad. If the place looked like wreck before, it’s a complete disaster scene now. Trash and debris are scattered all about, there’s unsightly purple staining on everything that wasn’t waterproof, there’s still an inch or so of contaminated water when you head down the stairs past the boiler room, and the whole basement has a weird smell to it now, a strange mix of mildew and the chemical agent.
The smell and lingering water is a little concerning... but it doesn’t seem like breathing the air down here or getting his shoes wet is having any adverse effects. So Desmond probably doesn’t have to worry about tripping balls like he did in that one shipping container at the Thanatos crash site.
...Or maybe he does, considering he’s now staring down a hallway that definitely was NOT there before. At the end of the hall is a very familiar looking door, bright light spilling from its window. Though rather than the usual white light, this door’s light is considerably more... purple. The apartment number plaque beside the door has no number, instead just two letters: AR.
Desmond probably shouldn’t go in there. In fact, he definitely shouldn’t go in there.
.....
Desmond grabs the doorknob, slowly opens the door, and enters into the purple light.
When the light clears from Desmond’s vision, he finds himself in… his own apartment? No, not quite. It’s certainly the same layout as his apartment, or at least close enough. But the more Desmond looks, the weirder it gets.
The furniture and décor is both different and more sparse compared to Desmond’s place, and it all looks weathered and run down. Not only that, but some of the furniture seems to be phasing partly through the walls and floor. Some of the doors and walls look misaligned, and he’s only just now noticed that the whole room seems tilted, despite Desmond still feeling like he’s standing on level ground. Drifting across the floor is a faint iridescent haze, rising up about a foot off the ground.
Those concerns about him possibly tripping are creeping back up again.
Shaking his head, Desmond moves further into this distorted doppelganger of his own home.
Like he noted before, there are a lot less furnishings and decorations in here than compared to his own apartment, but one thing that’s the same is the small dining table by the windows. Spread out across its surface are notebook pages, all marred with that familiar purple staining. But instead of having the usual cryptic hints and personal insults written on them, they all appear to be… drawings. A whole sketchbook’s worth of drawings, at that.
Desmond gets a closer look at them, carefully sorting through the pages. A variety of subjects are featured in the various sketches, mostly things he’s also seen while going through his patients' tapes. There’s drawings of the mannequins, a light house on a cliff, skeletal whales, lots of crows, an assortment of inkblot creatures… There’s the old quarry factory, a night time forest scene, more crows, the four Greek myth figures that his patients’ shadows strangely have a lot in common with, his patients’ shadows themselves… and his patients themselves. Huh.
Much to Desmond’s surprise, they’re normal portraits. He more than half expected some insulting caricatures of them, given the way Rainbow often spoke of Desmond’s patients, but, no. It’s just them, just as they were when he last saw them all.
Desmond takes a moment to just… look at them. Especially Virginia, Allen, and Max’s portraits.
He’s happy he was able to give those three the closure they deserved through the Collective Unconscious, but he can’t deny that he wishes he could’ve done something to stop them from…
He shakes his head. It’s not his fault. Someone else is to blame for what happened to those three, and he and Lucas know exactly who.
As Desmond sets the sketches of his patients back where he found them, he notices there’s one of him as well. Like the others, it’s just a normal portrait… but right next to it are some much less savory depictions of the therapist.
Namely, they’re all drawings of him dying in horrible (and a few ridiculous) ways.
Desmond getting swarmed by inkblots. Desmond getting hit by a car. Desmond getting hit by Max's Bull. Desmond getting shot by Lucas' Flash. Desmond getting shot by one of his own ricocheting pistol bullets. Desmond drowning in shark infested waters. Desmond getting mauled by a lion. Desmond getting fried by a deadly laser. Desmond falling into a spike pit. Desmond getting crushed by a piano. And the last one, Desmond being held up by a giant Agent Rainbow, who has drawn himself with a jagged mouth, and very much looks like he’s about to eat Desmond.
OH-kaaaaaaaay, that’s enough of that!
Desmond backs away from the table, and when he turns to go check out the rest of the apartment, his heart nearly jumps into his throat. Standing right in front of him now is Agent Rainbow, who apparently snuck up on him while he was distracted by the drawings. But unlike every other time he’s done it, this time, Rainbow looks absolutely pissed.
Before Desmond can even properly react, Rainbow practically snarls at him, “Get. OUT.”
As soon as those words are spoken, Desmond is hit with an intense feeling of vertigo, and everything seems to fade into a weird blur of motion. He blinks... and is back out in the basement hallway. The hallway that’s supposed to be there, that is. He looks back to where the hall leading to that apartment was, and there isn’t a single trace of it left.
Desmond just stands there awkwardly, still feeling a little dazed. What WAS that, even?
Well, he supposes he can now say for sure that Rainbow’s around as more than just a disembodied voice again.
And that he’s apparently angered him by invading his personal space.
Desmond didn’t even know he HAD his own personal space. Is that normal? Is your shadow supposed to have its own... living quarters in your mind?
That doesn’t seem right. This doesn’t seem right.
But Desmond’s too preoccupied with the nasty headache he can feel coming on to dwell on it at the moment. He could use some fresh air.
A walk in the woods sounds pretty good right now.
“Hey, Lucas, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, friend. You hangin’ on in there still?”
Desmond lets out a sigh, leaning against the railing as he looks up at the big dish atop Fort Sonder, before responding into the radio, “Yeah, just... really missing the real world, I guess. Do I still, uh, look okay out there?”
“Far as I can tell,” replies Lucas. “Your breathing and heart rate are all good. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were just sleeping like a baby.”
Desmond breathes out a half-hearted chuckle. “I wish I was just sleeping like a baby.”
“...You sure you’re alright, Doc?” Lucas asks. “You sound a little off. Did you run into something... weird, in there?”
“I... guess you could say that,” Desmond says.
“What was it? If you don’t mind me askin’, of course.”
“I’m...” Desmond starts, unsure how to go about explaining his encounter in the basement. “...not really sure?” Well, you can’t say he’s not being honest.
“Guess that’s fair,” says Lucas. “I mean, some of the things you’ve described goin’ on in there sound pretty, uh... wild. Like, that fight you had with your own shadow? I’m still havin’ trouble tryin’ to wrap my head around the descriptions you gave of that whole thing.”
Desmond laughs, a little less half-hearted this time. “Hah, honestly? So do I, and I was there.”
Lucas is the one who laughs now, and a small smile finds its way onto Desmond’s face. And then an idea finds its way into his head.
“Hey, speaking of shadows,” Desmond begins, “you wouldn’t happen to have any kind of documents or research files from Rosemary that go into more detail on how Agent Rainbow affects how they manifest, would you?”
There’s a pause on Lucas’ end as he thinks. “No,” he replies, “nothing that you haven’t already found yourself in there. Why d’ya ask? Did that weird thing you ran into have something to do with your shadow?”
“...Yeah.”
“Still can’t think of how to put it into words?”
“Nope.”
“Still fair enough.”
Desmond has come to the conclusion that if he wants answers about what the hell Rainbow’s deal is, he’s going to have to ask the monster himself.
Easier said than done...
First step is finding the guy. Desmond hasn’t noticed Rainbow sneaking around any since he got booted out of his apartment, but he’s hoping that if he just searches through the building enough, he’ll catch him.
Maybe. Hopefully.
One way to find out.
After making a thorough sweep of the second floor, Desmond heads down to the first, working his way through the whole building from top to bottom.
His search of the first floor doesn’t last long, as when he turns a corner into the maintenance room, he’s greeted by that same out-of-place hallway from the basement. Just as before, there’s a door glowing with purple light at the end of it.
Okay, first step complete. Now for the second, and likely much harder step: getting Rainbow to actually talk to him.
Desmond approaches the door, but instead of just walking right in, he knocks on it a few times. He waits, though it seems like nothing’s going to happen. He’s debating on if he should just go on in, when his knocking is finally answered. The door slowly opens, just enough for the man Desmond’s been looking for to lean out from behind it.
Rainbow scowls at him. A moment of silence stretches between them before he breaks it. “Well? Are you going to say something, or just keep standing there like an idiot?”
Desmond blinks, realizing that he was just standing there staring, then clears his throat and says, “I’d like to talk with you.”
Rainbow gives him an unconvinced look. “Yeaaahhh… you’ll have to forgive me for finding that hard to believe,” he says, moving like he’s about to slide back inside and close the door.
“Wait!” Desmond pleads. Rainbow stops his motion, and the therapist continues. “I have some questions, that I’m pretty sure only you could answer…” he moves his left hand from behind his back, revealing his hat. “…and I was hoping that, maybe, you would be willing to answer them?”
There’s surprise clear on Rainbow’s face, as he looks at the hat, to Desmond, and back. But he says nothing, and makes no moves. Is he actually in shock right now?
Desmond speaks up again. “I’m trying to offer an olive branch, here. Could you at least just consider it?”
Rainbow looks back at Desmond when he speaks up. Another beat of silence and stillness, and then Rainbow snatches the offered hat, slips back into his home, and closes the door. What very much sounds like a door latch locking follows quickly after.
Desmond just sighs. I’m honestly not sure what I expected.
So much for that plan.
Defeated, he heads back upstairs to his office. Maybe he’ll give the quarry factory and Fort Sonder one more good look-around, and see if there’s any notes of Rosemary’s that he missed.
Desmond shuffles back into his office, full of disappointment. He searched both the factory and fort with a fine toothed comb, and found diddly squat. His quest for answers about his shadow really is looking like an impossible one.
He should probably take a break. Find something to distract himself with.
He could go talk to Lucas again… but he doesn’t want to bother the radioman too much, not while he’s having to keep a close watch for Mayer and its cronies, AND keep an eye on Desmond’s unconscious body.
Maybe he’ll just hang out in his own apartment. None of his electronics work right in here, but he does have some books that he honestly hasn’t read in a while. He could also play his guitar, as it’s been even longer since he indulged in his favorite hobby. He’s probably gotten rusty, and so could definitely use the practice.
Yeah… a personal jam session sounds like the perfect idea.
With that decided, Desmond exits back out the office door and heads down the hall.
But then immediately stops when he sees what’s at the end of said hall.
Where a pile of trash and boxes should be, is instead that hall. Desmond jogs up to it, though he’s not sure what exactly he plans on doing once there.
It looks as though the plan has been made for him, however, as the door slowly swings open when he gets close. Desmond stops, waiting to see if anything or anyone is coming out, but nothing does. Seems this is an invitation for him to come in.
Perhaps Rainbow actually did consider Desmond’s request.
He wastes no more time and once again enters through the purple light.
Once in the apartment proper, Desmond notes that it looks a little different from before. Different walls are angled wrong this time, different furniture not obeying the laws of physics, and the floor doesn’t seem titled now. That big pile of sketch pages has been cleared off the dining table as well.
And there’s also music playing. Piano, specifically.
Guess Desmond isn’t the only one who felt the itch to grab an instrument and play.
The sound of the piano seems to be coming from the room that, in Desmond’s own apartment, is the bedroom. The door is open, and he cautiously approaches. In Rainbow’s version, the room looks to be just a place for his piano and nothing more. It sits in the far corner of the room, as does Rainbow, his scarred fingers dancing across the keys. He either hasn’t noticed Desmond, or is just ignoring him.
Desmond considers getting the monstrous man’s attention… but opts not to. Rainbow’s playing is actually really nice, he has to admit. So he stands there and listens.
He realizes he recognizes the song, the notes being that of Here Comes a Savior, the song he and Rainbow seemingly share. But it doesn’t stay that way for long, transitioning into a different, yet still familiar tune. A Doll's House, the song from Virginia, sings from the keys next. Virginia’s song flows seamlessly into the main chorus of Bottom of the Pit, Allen's song, which then drops into Max's Is It Me?. Desmond can’t help but note how much more somber the normally rage-filled song sounds on piano. As he expected, Lucas' song comes next, and Desmond is also expecting Rosemary's to follow after, but instead of Whatever It Takes, Me and the Boys just transitions back into Here Comes a Savior, which is how this medley seems to end. Rainbow takes his hands off the keys, resting them on his knees, before finally acknowledging Desmond’s presence with a look that says ‘well? I’m waiting.’
“That was pretty good,” Desmond says, partly because he hopes the compliment will help in getting Rainbow to open up, but also because it genuinely was pretty good. As much as he does not like Rainbow, he can’t deny that the guy plays well.
Rainbow actually looks the tiniest bit taken aback by the compliment, though only for a moment. “So,” he begins, “you said you have questions. Which isn’t surprising, considering how much of a nosy pain in the ass you are. But here’s my question for you: what are you so desperate for answers to, that you’d willingly come to me to get them?”
Desmond chooses to ignore the ‘nosy pain in the ass’ comment. “I want to know what exactly you are.”
“Seriously?” Rainbow says, incredulously. “THAT’S what you came all the way here to ask me? What, is your memory already starting to go, or did you just not even listen to the recordings I left for you in those tape players? Hmph, and I thought listening to people was supposed to be your job.”
Aaand the conversation is already going how Desmond anticipated it would. Of course. He shoots Rainbow a glare before clarifying, “I did listen to those tapes. I know that you represent all of my negative thoughts. I even acknowledged that you’re a part of me in our fight, remember?” He can tell Rainbow’s about to say something to that, and raises a hand to quiet him before continuing. “But I can’t shake the feeling that that isn’t all that you are.”
Rainbow just rolls his eyes at that, turning away from Desmond to start plinking at the piano keys again. “Well, you should shake harder then. Perhaps being stuck in your own head for so long has started to scramble it.”
Desmond can’t tell if Rainbow’s deflecting, or just trying to rile him up. Could be both, really. “If that really is the case, then I guess I should look into why I apparently have some deep-seated fear of pianists that I wasn’t even aware I had,” Desmond retorts.
Rainbow’s hands halt mid-tune at that. Desmond continues. “See, that’s the thing. I'm not sure you’re just a part of me, because there’s things about you that have nothing to do with me. Sure, I’m a musician, but I only play guitar. I’ve never touched a piano in my life. And I’ll be the first to admit that I am not an artist, nor have I ever had any interest in being one. But you apparently do, if that huge pile of drawings is anything to go by.”
Rainbow and his piano both remain silent, so Desmond keeps going. “Maybe I just don’t know enough about how the Rainbow chemical agent affects how a person’s shadow manifests, especially in this weird Collective Unconscious mindscape, but I never saw any evidence of any of my patients' shadows having their own hobbies.”
Rainbow finally reacts, making an unimpressed sounding grumble. “And what exactly are you insinuating?” he says, looking back towards Desmond again.
“I’m not insinuating anything," the therapist clarifies. "I just want to know why my own shadow is so different from all the others I’ve seen. Will you at least answer me that?”
Rainbow goes quiet again, turning his head back away from Desmond, though he can still see the look on Rainbow's face. It’s a distant look, the kind that a person gets when they’re looking inward rather than outward. The therapist has seen similar looks many times before, so it’s hard for him to miss. Desmond then takes in the rest of Rainbow, and notices that, though it’s very very slight, he’s started shaking.
If Desmond didn’t know any better, he’d say Rainbow almost looks…
“…What are you so afraid of?” the question comes out before he can really stop himself.
Which is unfortunate, because it was evidently the wrong thing to say.
Rainbow’s hands slam hard onto the keys, the discordant sound matching with his sudden burst of fury. He jumps up from his seat with enough force to shove the bench, causing its legs to screech across the floor. Glowing red eyes bore angrily into Desmond as Rainbow jabs a finger in his direction. “I’m afraid that you’ve worn out your welcome, Wales,” he growls, and then points at the doorway. “Now get out of my home, before I make you get out. Unless you want an even worse migraine than the last time, that is.”
Desmond had backed up a few steps at the angry outburst, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. As he very much does not want a migraine, he quickly backs out of the piano room and heads for the glowing entry door. As soon as he passes through it and ends up back in the waiting hall, he hears Rainbow’s door slam shut behind him. Desmond turns, but just as he predicted, the door and its hallway are already gone.
Well, that whole encounter just left Desmond with even more questions. Why did he seem so afraid to talk about why he’s different? He certainly wasn’t opposed to talking about himself in the lead up to their fight.
Maybe he caused Rainbow to realize something that had never occurred to him before. Maybe, he realized that he doesn’t know why he’s different, either. Exactly why that seems to scare Rainbow, Desmond isn’t sure. He kind of gets the feeling that trying to psychoanalyze his own shadow wouldn’t really work out the same as it would with a full, real person.
Hell, Rainbow’s behavior could just be some more of Desmond’s own worries manifesting. Though he’s not really sure which worries would result in his shadow being the one freaking out. Maybe it’s due to some... strange reaction to the chemical agent, like he’s sort of been suspecting.
He wonders just how much of that stuff has been dumped into his system.
God, he hopes he doesn’t end up with any lasting issues because of it.
In any case, as piqued as his curiosity is, Desmond now feels certain he’s never going to get any solid answers. Especially not when the only place he could get them from is Rainbow himself.
Damn. He gave his hat up for nothing.
Rainbow sits at his piano, delicately running a thumb over its keys.
‘What are you so afraid of?’ The question echoes in his mind.
His mind. Completely separate from Desmond’s.
The realization had hit him like a freight train.
As he sits in the quiet, a particular phrase suddenly comes to him.
'I think, therefore, I am.’
.....
…Is he?