Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A sudden tremor made Dave smack his head against the wall,. He jolted upright, wincing at the ensuing headache. He’d been napping again, his prison cell well lit in the daylight. Had the Toppats narrowly avoided another flock of ducks? That had happened at least three times since he’d been captured, at least according to the voice on the audio system. Deciding to leave it at that, Dave leaned back against the wall…

Only to be jolted again by a second tremor. Then a third, then a forth. Dave scrambled to his feet and peered through the glass window of his prison door, eyes flicking around at what little he could see. A Toppat passed by, and Dave ducked away from the window instinctively. They usually ignored him, but that didn’t mean one of them couldn’t suddenly decide to use him as a punching bag.

The tremors were growing more frequent, as were the number of Toppats rushing past his cell. They were all going in the same direction, and he managed to glimpse the looks of panic most of them had on their faces. Dave’s heart leapt into his throat. Was the airship crashing? Was everyone running for the exits while he got left behind? He frantically banged his fist against the window. “Hello?” He called, his voice sounding dull and muffled even from this side of the door. “C-can someone get me out of here? Please!”

There was a crash that shook the airship all the worse, and Dave bonked his forehead painfully into the glass. He groaned in pain, shaking from both the effort to stay upright and the fear that was slowly taking over him.

He was going to die here, wasn’t he? Either exploded in midair or crushed under the gaudy red debris of the ship when it inevitably crashed into the ground. Would anyone find his body? Would there be anything left of his body to find? He beat against the window with both fists, yelling, “let me out of here! Let me out! Please!”

Another tremor rocked the airship, sounding way too close for comfort, and Dave squeezed his eyes shut to brace for the end.

The door slid to the side, sending Dave toppling forward in a spiral before he was caught by someone. It was another Toppat, and there were three others nearby, bracing their arms against the walls for balance. The Toppat that grabbed him set him on his feet firmly, then shoved Dave in the direction the other Toppats had been going in. “Move it,” they hissed in his ear. One of the other Toppats grabbed Dave by the arm and yanked him down the hallway, the others following close behind.

“W-What’s going on?” Dave managed.

The Toppats didn’t respond, and continued to push and drag him out of the prison brig. There was another tremor that made the group lurch into the wall, and one of them grumbled a curse as they pushed forward. “Of course it was today,” they complained, “of course they chose the day I was supposed to get promoted-”

“Shut up, moron,” another snapped, “there won’t be any more promotions if we get arrested! Just focus on getting the hostage to the bay window.”

Dave’s brain was starting to blur from the shaking and the arguing. So someone was attacking the airship like he’d thought, but it wasn’t just anyone. It was someone with the authority to arrest the Toppats. Someone with the power to save him! …Someone the Toppats were going to use him as a bartering chip for.

No, he couldn’t think like that! He’d been stuck in a room the size of a closet for way too long, and an opportunity to escape, to be free, was finally around the corner. He just needed to be patient. He needed a clean shot to get away, away from his tiny prison cell, away from these awful Toppats, back to a normal life, back to his beloved childhood friend-

Dave tripped, his foot twisting awkwardly from the motion, and he flinched in preparation for the pain that would come once his foot hit the floor… but it didn’t hit the floor.

It didn’t hit anything at all.

The forward momentum from rushing through the crashing airship sent him toppling forward, where he should have hit his head on the ground, or even on one of the other Toppat’s, but he just kept falling.

The gray metal floor rushed to meet him, blurring into a violent mess of gray and yellow shapes that crashed into him like concrete, knocking him unconscious with the scent of bloody noses and damp motel carpets.

Chapter Text

Another wrestling mat crumpled to the floor in a heap, joining the rest of the mess in the gymnasium. Rupert hardly noticed. Instead, he pounced on the next available target: a punching bag as thick as an elephant’s leg. He slammed his fists directly into the solid fabric, a near constant stream of hits that pushed the punching bag further and further away, but he was relentless.

Rupert wasn’t sure how many mats and punching bags he’d attacked, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He was seething, vision practically tinged red with fury as he thought back to those stupid Toppats, their stupid blank expressions, their stupid impossible explanations, stupid stupid stupid-

“Heya, Rupert. You, uh, might want to go easier on that thing. I think it’s been punished enough.”

Rupert twitched his head in the direction of the voice. The speaker was one Charles Calvin, identifiable by the bright red headphones he always wore. Charles was always way too cheery for a veteran pilot, but he was Rupert’s superior, at least by rank, so respecting him was a given. He looked cheery even now, though there was a strain to his smile as he watched Rupert continue to beat the punching bag savagely.

“I’m a little busy right now, sir,” he grumbled as he delivered another sharp right hook.

“Super busy,” Charles agreed, “but uh, I think a break is in order. Don’t you?”

Rupert switched to a left hook. “General said not to leave the gym ‘til I’ve cooled down. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he’d say. But the gym closes in like, five minutes, so…”

Rupert blinked and looked to the window, startled to find that the sky was a deep, bruise-y orange. Hadn’t it just been mid afternoon a second ago? He glanced at the clock on the far wall. Sure enough, it was ticking closer and closer to seven at night.

Unfortunately, Ruper was not cooled down in the slightest. If anything, he felt more desperate and restless, jittery, like a fight was around the corner. He’d been in enough fights in his life to know the feeling.

“Hey,” Charles said, waving his hand to get Rupert’s attention. Once he had it, he set his hands on Rupert’s upper arms, then slipped them down to his hands. “I get that you’re probably not, uh, ‘cooled down’, but… I don’t think your hands can take much more ‘cooling down’.

A bit miffed by the touch, Rupert looked to where their hands met and saw… ah.

His knuckles were bruised and bloody, and it was no doubt a miracle that they hadn’t broken, as far as he could tell. He glanced around at the mats on the floor, at the punching bags he’d decimated, and saw that many of them had dark red slicks smeared on them. In fact, now that he thought about it, his teeth hurt, too, and his throat and nose were dry and painful. He’d been clenching his teeth for who knew how many hours, and breathing strained, rough breaths in and out of his nose and mouth without a single drop of water for just as long.

Charles let him take in the damage he’d had caused before gently patting his arm. “Hey, I got a plan. How about I patch you up real quick, and then we’ll go for a drink. Just you and me, you know? Someone’s got to keep an eye on you, haha.” His tone was light, though it was likely he was more serious than he was letting on.

Rupert flicked his gaze between Charles and the window. Drinking probably wasn’t a good idea, but the pilot had a point; his current method wasn’t helping, and he needed to do something that wouldn’t have him breaking his hands into splinters. He drew out a long, painful sigh. “Right then. But just one, yeah? Don’t need to slip off the handle or nothing.”

*

Hardly half an hour later, Rupert had slipped off the handle. Very loudly, and very noticeably.

He was sure that Charles had long since been swapping out his drinks for water, but he didn’t care. The bartender and the other patrons were shooting him dirty looks- one of them was even taking pictures of him with their phone- but he didn’t care about that, either. All he cared about was the fact that Dave Panpa, his childhood friend, had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

“‘Ow can shomeone jusht… jusht vanish? ” He sobbed. “Wiped offa th’ map, like uh… like one a thoshe invishible blokesh, innit? Dave ain’t one a thoshe guysh, shwear on me mum! He jusht ain’t!”

Charles patted him gently on the back, as he’d been doing since they sat down. “I’m really sorry, Rupert,” he said tiredly. He’d been a little more specific with his attempts to cheer Rupert up earlier, but he seemed to have run out of pearls of wisdom. Not that it mattered, since Rupert could barely hear him over his own heaving wails.

“Davie’sh jusht… ‘e’sh sho… Bloody ‘ell, Davie! ‘E’sh me besht mate, ‘e ish! We wash gonna be coppersh, ya know; we’d play coppersh all the time growin’ up. I wash- we wash- we found theshe hatsh thish one time, yeah? An’ he wash sho- he wash adorable, he wash sho shmall growin’ up. Ah’d carry ‘im on me shouldersh now ‘n then, like that mazshe of… corn? ‘Ah think it wash corn. We wash tryin’ ta find th’ exit, right? But it wash huge, it wash! We wash runnin’ in shircles for hoursh, n’ then our parentsh called th’ coppersh ta ‘elp find ush, and-”

Somewhere beyond Rupert’s bubble of pain and sadness, the door to the bar chimed, followed by astonished exclamations and the sudden appearance of two other soldiers.

“Wow,” said Calvin Bukowski, “Price, is that you?”

“I think it is,” Konrad Bukowski replied. “I thought he didn’t drink?”

“I thought he didn’t cry,” Calvin retorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be anything besides mad.”

“Or annoyed,” Konrad added.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Hey, guys,” Charles greeted, gently goading the twins away from Rupert’s heaving shoulders. “Been a long night, huh? How’re you doing?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” Konrad said, hanging off his brother’s shoulder.

“More than fine,” Calvin nodded eagerly. “We came to celebrate the airship raid.”

“Because the Toppats freakin’ SUUUUCK!” They cheered in unison. A few soldiers who had also been in the bar whooped quietly before returning to their business.

“So what’s up with Price?”

“Is this a ‘tears of joy’ kind of thing?”

Rupert yanked his latest glass of water towards his mouth, spilling most of it all over the counter before sobbing again.

“Yeah, uh, not today,” Charles said, lowering his voice. “He uh… he lost someone important to him. Kind of a touchy subject, you know? Probably shouldn’t bring it up.”

“Oh,” the twins droned, before not taking his advice.

“Was it someone really special?”

“A love interest, maybe?”

“C’mon, Price, give us the scoop!”

“Cut it out, you guys,” Charles said more firmly. Rupert slammed his face onto the wet counter, sniveling miserably. Charles pulled some bills out of his pocket and tossed them towards the bartender. “You uh, you can keep the change,” he said as he looped an arm around Rupert and dragged him to his feet. “You two have fun. I uh, I gotta take care of him. Goodnight-”

“Ah can’t believe it! Ah jusht can’t believe it!” Rupert started sobbing again. “‘Ow doesh that even ‘appen? ‘Ow do ya jusht… ‘fall outta the world’? It don’t make shense, it don’t!”

“I know, buddy,” Charles said gently, dragging him towards the door.

“Wait a second,” Calvin said suddenly. “Did he say ‘fall out of the world’?”

“It did sound like he said that,” Konrad agreed.

Charles shrugged, which was difficult to do with a drunk man weighing him down. “I dunno, he’s been saying that most of the night. It’s- it’s probably nothing.”

“Maybe,” Calvin said thoughtfully, “but it sounds familiar, somehow…”

“Kind of like the Backrooms, yeah?” Konrad offered.

Charles looked at them curiously. Rupert had also quieted down. “What are ‘the Backrooms’?”

“It’s this horror story on the internet,” Calvin began.

“They say that some people just no-clip through the ground into a mysterious place that never ends,” Konrad continued.

“Liminal horror, they call it.”

“It’s like falling out of existence itself. Once you’re trapped, there’s no getting out.”

“Few escape to tell the tale.” Calvin waved his fingers in a spooky gesture. “They say you’re not the same if you manage to leave.”

Charles gave them a confused smile. “That sounds… nifty? I guess? But we really need to go-”

Rupert lunged towards the twins, gripping them by the front of their shirts as his voice turned deadly quiet. “Izzat true?” He said. “You lot’re sherious now? Thish placshe… th’ ‘Backroomsh…’ it’sh real?”

The twins didn’t reply, stunned by Rupert’s complete one eighty. His grip tightened on their collars, and they noticed that his hands were wrapped in bandages, and they were starting to turn red near his knuckles…

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Charles said, pulling Rupert away and giving him a firm look. “We’re not doing that, alright? I’m going to take you to your room, and you’re gonna rest, okay? Okay, Rupert?”

Rupert didn’t reply, eyes still deadlocked on the twins as they cautiously backed away.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Charles said to them, and pulled Rupert towards the door. Rupert stared at them for as long as he could until the door shut behind them and the cold night air stung his wet cheeks.

*

Charles was quiet as they walked back to base, up until he fished Rupert’s key out of his pocket to open his dorm room door and push him onto the bed. “That wasn’t cool, Rupert,” he scolded, slipping Rupert’s shoes off and placing them near the door. “You can’t lash out like that, okay? No matter what, you can’t take your feelings out on others. Besides,” he stepped out of the room, eyes heavy with pity. “They were probably just making that up. They do that, y’know? Anyway, I’m gonna close the door now, and you’re gonna go to sleep for the rest of the night, alright?” Rupert was quiet, eyes glazed over and not seeing anything at all. “...Goodnight, buddy.” Charles closed the door and walked away, his footsteps echoing as he went further and further down the hall.

Rupert waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, then struggled to flip onto his stomach. He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and tried to turn it on. It took a few tries; his fingers felt numb and fat, and the numbers on his password screen kept blurring together, but he finally managed to open it and get onto a search engine. The next task was even more difficult, with the way the screen seemed to register certain touches but not others, and sometimes even double tapped when he didn’t mean to, but he finally managed to fill the blank and press the search button.

The Backrooms. Ten million results.

…Rupert had a lot of reading to do.

Chapter Text

Everything in this place was yellow. Every blank wall, every inch of the thin, damp carpet, even the lightbulbs hidden under the light covers on the ceiling came in various shades of mustard and old cheese. Dave found that the color was making him motion sick. Was that even a thing? Apparently, it was.

He paused to lean against the wall, swallowing thickly. When he’d awoken in this strange office-like building, he’d hoped that someone would be around to ask for directions. As time went on, though, the deafening silence of this place made him feel afraid not just of being alone, but of not being alone.

He still wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering around, but he knew he couldn’t panic again. He’d spooked himself earlier, his dry eyes and the shoddy lighting making him see something that wasn’t there, and he’d run off in a blind panic, calling for help. The stifling lack of reverb eventually made him realize that crying wouldn’t solve anything.

And so, he continued walking, stumbling through the hallways and rooms that melded into each other. After all, what else was there to do? There had to be an exit. There just had to be.

Dave thought back to where he’d been just hours ago; his tiny prison cell on the Toppat Clan’s infamous airship. It was his own fault that he’d ended up there. He’d been stupid and left a flashlight out in the middle of the museum floor, only remembering at the last second as he was leaving and rushing back in to grab it. It was the end of his shift, the graveyard shift, and he would have gone home and continued living his life, like he should have.

But then he’d heard some voices coming from a back room, and he’d been too stupidly curious to stay out of it. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to see inside, but it certainly wasn’t Mayor Fredrickson trying to steal the Tunisian Diamond. He’d been spotted, chased, cornered, and captured in less than two minutes. Honestly, it would have been embarrassing if he weren’t so terrified.

He’d spent a long time in that prison cell; he tried to keep count for a while, but he was never great with numbers. One time, he had tried to look as sad and pathetic as possible, in the hopes that they’d pity him and let him out, but all he’d gotten out of it was someone screaming in his face and a solid punch to the gut. He avoided making eye contact with any of them after that.

Dave didn’t have a lot of family- they were distant by nature- but there was one person that he knew for certain would be worried about him: Rupert Price, his childhood friend.

Rupert was everything Dave was not: brave, strong, charming. Dave knew how to fire a gun, sure, but he wasn’t nearly confident enough- or reckless enough- to punch a convicted killer in the face like Rupert did, and he definitely didn’t have Rupert’s social know-how for office politics. Even so Rupert always made time for him, and they were practically inseparable. Dave didn’t want it any other way.

An old memory flash through his mind that made him breathe out a quiet laugh. Back when they were in middle school, there’d been some sort of Halloween festival in town, and one of the big attractions was a giant corn maze. They’d gone in together, determined to get the treasure at the very center. Getting there had been surprisingly easy, but getting out, for some reason, was not.

Hours had been spent treading the same paths over and over as the sky grew brighter, then darker as night approached. Dave was convinced they’d be trapped forever, but Rupert had come up with a brilliant idea: if they stuck to the wall on their right, they’d eventually reach the exit. There was some logic about it Dave didn’t get, but it saved their skins; they stumbled out of the maze, tired and hungry, just as the police had arrived. Their parents yelled at them, but the officers had been surprisingly nice about it all. They even let them sit in the back of a police car and gave them some juice boxes. Overall, not the worst day of his life.

Dave blinked and stopped walking. That… was technically what was happening right now, right? He was in a maze- sort of- and he couldn’t find the exit. Therefore, if he used the method Rupert had shown him all those years ago…!

Dave eagerly slapped a hand against the wall on his right. There was a clamminess to it that made him feel queasy, but that was okay. He was gonna find that exit, and nothing was going to stop him!

*

Something had stopped him. Dave sat on the floor of another hall to rest his legs, hand still planted firmly on the wall, and stared into the pitch black darkness the corridor had brought him to. If he wanted to keep the pattern, he had to go in the dark.

Dave did not want to go in the dark.

Technically, he did have a flashlight- the very same one that had gotten him captured (for some reason, they hadn’t taken it away). But it was an incredibly dinky little thing, barely able to light the floor two feet in front of him. If anything, it would just act as a beacon for any monsters or strangers to track him down in the darkness with.

There was no one here. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of another living being in this place (minus the trick his eyes had played on him earlier). There was no one to be afraid of. Nothing to fear. No monsters to pop out at him and eat him alive. Nothing at all.

Dave had been telling himself these things for a while now, and it was not helping. There had to be a way around this; he’d been doing so well up until now! Maybe he could stick with the “right hand plan”, minus the dark bits? But no, he knew Rupert’s method was tried and true: he had to go in the dark.

Rupert wouldn’t hesitate. He’d march right into the darkness, one hand on the wall and the other holding Dave tight and close. He was always warm, somehow, like a heated blanket. The thought made a tear come to his eye, and Dave quickly shook it away. He could hold Rupert, in real life, if he could just brave the dark. And really, when comparing the thought of hugging Rupert to the actual act of hugging him, was there even a contest?

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dave got to his feet and sidled along the wall, hoping that if he kept his eyes open wide enough, he might see anything that was coming before it saw him.

Chapter Text

Rupert was going to kill the Bukowski twins.

He should have known they were screwing with him for cheap laughs, but he didn’t think they’d stoop this bloody low. The Backrooms, as it turned out, was just a buzzword for neon colored, brain numbing children’s interweb crap copy-pasted over ugly yellow motel rooms. Every image and video he swiped through was filled with crappily animated kiddie monsters covered in insulting amounts of “blood”, doing memes that he didn’t understand or care to. Everything he saw was so stupid that it was making him see red, and he should have thrown his phone across the room and forgotten the whole thing hours ago.

And yet…

Certain phrases kept popping up, key phrases that sounded just like what those bloody Toppats had said the other day. “Falling out of existence”. “Falling through the world”. “Disappearing in plain sight”.

Rupert couldn’t say for sure, but the Toppats weren’t brain-dead enough to play around with crappy internet memes, right? So how would they know to “explain” Dave’s disappearance with these oft repeated sayings?

It wasn’t adding up, and it was giving Rupert a migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, looking blearily at the bright blue light of his phone screen for another moment before turning it off. Continuing this “research” wouldn’t do him any good. It would be best to sleep on it, then gather his thoughts in the morning, after PT-

His phone alarm bleeped painfully in his ear and he startled, turning the screen back on to check the time: 4:45 in the bloody AM

Rupert cursed under his breath. PT started at five o’clock on the dot, every day, and normally he hardly even needed the full fifteen minutes to get ready. Unfortunately, as he lurched to his feet, he quickly realized he was going to need every single second.

His stomach flipped and he fell towards the rubbish bin, emptying what little sat in his stomach for a good long while. Every time he thought he was done, his stomach would do another flip and he’d dry heave for even longer, fighting off the urge to pass out so that his brain would stop feeling like it was splintering. How could he have stayed up all night with this “research”? It’d been a complete waste of time and energy, and he was going to pay for it when he made it to the field… If he made it to the field…

After what felt like way too long, his stomach settled enough that he could scramble into his PT gear and stumble out of his room. The hallways weren’t much better, though. Rupert’s head throbbed and bobbled with each staggering step, and the droll lights overhead left wild streaks across his vision as he slammed into every wall that he came across. Thank God he’d practically memorized his route to the field, or else he might not have known where he was going-

He slammed roughly into someone and bounced backwards, smacking his head against the wall and breaking what razor-thin patience he had left.

“Oi, you!” He yelled. “Watch where yer goin’, you bloody wanker! You stupid or somethin’?!”

“No, Price, I don’t think I am, but perhaps you’d like to enlighten me otherwise?”

Rupert froze, a cold wash of I-messed-up-really-bad sitting like a rock in his stomach as he looked up at General Hubert Galeforce. The general was brushing the imaginary dust off of his new uniform with a bit more force than necessary, his dark eyes narrowed as he stared Rupert down. It took him a second to realize the general was waiting for him to say something.

“Uh- sorry, I was- late. For PT. Yeah.”

Galeforce squinted at him. “PT ended an hour ago, Price. Even if it hadn’t, you’re clearly in no shape for strenuous activity. Charlie informed me that you wouldn’t be well today, so you have the day off.”

Rupert’s face burned as the words passed through his head like aspic. He’d never missed PT. He’d never taken a day off. And he’d never made an absolute fool of himself in front of his superior like this. His eyes started to sting- no, dammit, he would not cry in front of the general, he would not, he would not-

Galeforce cleared his throat and Rupert blinked harshly. “Why don’t you step into my office for a moment, Price? Seeing as you have the day off and all.” He gestured back the way he’d been coming from. Rupert nodded numbly, following the general down the hall like a school boy on the way to the principal’s office.

*

Sitting in an office had never been this agonizing. The general sat at his desk, peering at him as Rupert sat in the tiny wooden chair that would probably break under his weight if he moved too much. This forced him to sit completely still, stewing in the awkward silence as Galeforce kept his mouth shut, as if to dare him to speak first. Rupert knew that would be a death sentence to his already tarnished military career if he did, but damn him if it didn’t make him want to tear his hair out.

Finally, Galeforce sighed. “Charlie told me about your ‘antics’ from last night. At the gym, and at the local tavern.” He leaned forward, hands pressed flat on his desk. “It’s disheartening to see you so badly out of sorts, Price. Disheartening and disappointing. Do you plan to pull yourself together?”

Rupert’s face was on fire. He nodded curtly, eyes locked on the fancy new nameplate that decorated the desk. Despite being a general now, Galeforce didn’t seem to have more than that and his uniform to celebrate the promotion.

Galeforce clasped his hands together. “Believe me, Price losing someone close to you isn’t easy, and unfortunately, it doesn’t always get easier with time. I didn’t know your friend, but can you honestly tell me that he’d be okay with seeing you like this? Staying on the straight and narrow is the best thing you can do to honor his memory-”

“Dave’s not dead!” Rupert blurted, shutting his mouth with a clack of his teeth when Galeforce gave him a look. Rupert’s grip on his crossed arms tightened, and it was only now that he noticed just how gross and crusty the bandages on his knuckles had gotten. “...Dave can’t be dead,” he repeated weakly. “He just can’t be…”

The silence stretched on. A clock was ticking outside in the hall, even though the door was firmly closed. The air conditioner kicked on, and Rupert suppressed a shudder.

Finally, Galeforce leaned back in his chair. “Price, I think it would be a good idea if you went to talk with someone. We have a number of therapists and counselors on base; I can set you up with someone today, if you like.” He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around for a moment. “Coming to terms with… things, can be difficult for us to do on our own, but that’s why there are people who can help. Do you find this acceptable?”

Rupert did not find it acceptable. He hated the idea of having to see a doctor about his feelings, of all things. He didn’t need a therapist. Therapists were for people with problems, who weren’t good enough. Rupert was good enough. He was a perfect soldier… or at least, he was supposed to be a perfect soldier. He’d worked so hard to be perfect… but what did it matter if Dave wasn’t there for him to be perfect for?

He realized he’d been quiet for too long, and nodded numbly. Perfect or not, he couldn’t exactly ignore an order from a superior, no matter what the order was.

Galeforce sighed, a hint of relief in his voice as he stood and handed Rupert a note with a name and a room number. He didn’t release it right away when Rupert took it, though. “This isn’t a punishment, Price,” the general said firmly. “This is to help you get back on track. You’re an excellent worker, and I’d like for you to keep working as you have been. We all need help sometimes; it’s nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He finally released his grip, and Rupert stuffed the note in his pocket. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, “thank you, sir.” With a parting salute, Rupert left the room and closed the door behind him. He pulled the note out just far enough to read the room number again before heading in that direction.

He was entirely positive that seeing a therapist wouldn’t change a thing. Then again, what did an imperfect soldier like him know about anything?

Chapter Text

Dave tripped over his own feet and collapsed onto the floor. He didn't get up right away.

Everything hurt. His head felt cloudy and heavy, his throat itched and prickled with dryness, his stomach was hollow and noisy, and every inch of his legs was sore from hours of walking. At some point, he'd forgotten to be afraid of the dark, trudging mindlessly along the yellow wall to his right like a zombie. Unlike a zombie, though, Dave at least had enough brains to realize that enough was enough.

He moaned pitifully and curled in on his side. This awful place was way too big and empty, and he was getting nowhere fast. Maybe he'd misremembered Rupert's advice about maze solving, but he'd been sticking to that "Right Hand Plan" for so long that the thought of stopping now hurt almost as much as his whole body. What if he was super close to the exit, and changing things up kept him from leaving? Or what if, like the last hundred times Dave had asked the first what if, there was still. No. Exit?

Dave was done. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, and sore, and his body didn't have the strength to keep moving like he had been. He needed a nap. A long nap. A whole night's sleep, even; or a week, or a month, or a hundred years…

Using his arm as a pillow, Dave closed his eyes and tried to tune out the constant buzz of the lights overhead. Just one… quick… nap…

.

.

.

Dave shot up in a cold sweat and whipped his head around. This place was driving him crazy; he could have sworn that something had just rushed past him, something big and fast, but there was still no one here.

No, wait, over there; he could see… something.

He crawled on his hands and knees towards the fuzzy black object near the corner of the room. It almost looked like a kitten, but no: it quickly became apparent that this was just a large patch of mold that was shaped like a kitten.

A part of Dave wanted to cry. Even if a kitten couldn't talk, the thought of having something small and soft and alive to hang out with had filled him with so much hope. The disappointment was crushing.

Flashlight still in hand, Dave jabbed it at the mold in a fit of frustration. Part of the mold came off, stretching for a moment before snapping away. The mold that remained on his flashlight was only fuzzy on the outside; the inside, which seemed to be the source of the mold, was something black that had congealed thickly into tiny blobs of goo. Some of the fuzz stuck out of the substance like individual hairs. And the smell…

Dave gagged and wiped his flashlight on a clean spot of the carpet. It smelled old, damp, and sour, with a startlingly sharp hint of metal that made his mouth water unpleasantly. Dave swallowed it back down with effort. As tempting as it was, this building still belonged to someone (presumably), and spitting up all over their carpet would be just plain rude.

He crawled backwards, away from the mold, until his back hit a different wall. He sighed and bumped the back of his head firmly against it, muttering a small "ow" at the pain that followed. The smell lingered in the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could wash it all away with a big glass of water. Honestly, he could probably use a shower, too. A Toppat had given him a pack of wet wipes once, probably out of pity, but that was absolutely not the same as a proper shower, with soap and warm water. Or cold water. Or any water at all.

God, he was so thirsty. He could practically imagine the smell of water: a lush scent, warm and humid and filling-

Dave blinked his eyes open. There was a slight shift in the air; not quite a wind, but movement, temperature, and humidity. He pulled himself to his feet and staggered in the direction of the movement; the air was growing thick and humid, and he turned a corner to see a brand new room.

The difference was startling. Where the previous hallways and rooms were yellow and moldy and aged, this room was covered floor to ceiling with impossibly white bath tiles. A small set of steps near the center of the room led down to a narrow canal filled with deep, beautiful water.

Dave scrambled over to the stairs, nearly smacking his head on the tile when he tripped, diving his hands towards the mirror-smooth surface-

And stopped just before he hit the water.

He and Rupert had been boy scouts when they were little, and one of the first things they'd learned in survival training was not to blindly trust water sources. Water could look as clear as crystal, but it could be full of things that would make him sick, like chemicals and gross bugs. Stillwater especially was a no-go, because if something was spilled into it, it wouldn't get washed away in the current, and Dave had never seen water as still as this before.

His hands trembled just over the surface. He was so thirsty, but could he take the risk? What if there was something bad in there, like that mold he'd seen moments before?

Dave barely held back a retch, looking longingly into his own reflection. He looked tired, sick, and filthy. His resolve was slipping.

He gingerly dipped a finger into the water and brought it back out, sniffing it carefully before giving it a tentative lick. It tasted… like water.

Good enough.

Dave cupped his hands and shoveled water into his mouth from the canal, splashing the pristine tiles and soaking his ratty security uniform completely. The water sloshed back and forth with his frantic movements, noisily slapping the walls and stairs and anything it reached like claps of thunder.

Finally, finally satisfied, Dave lay flat on his back, taking in deep breaths of the humid air as he stared up at the ceiling, half-laughing and half-crying under the bright white lights. This wasn't an exit, but it could lead to one. He was finally making progress, and it would only be a matter of time until he escaped this place. He was certain of it.

Dave sat up slowly, looking from left to right. The canal was a straight line going in just those two directions. Well, it was certainly more straightforward than the yellow place had been, and he wouldn't have to worry about getting thirsty again, either.

Dave carefully descended the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall for stability. The water ended about halfway under his knees. It would be a bit of a workout, but plenty doable. Pressing his hand to the wall on his right, he began to slosh down the canal, his thirst quenched and his mood brightened once more.

Chapter Text

Rupert stormed through the halls, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the floor in front of him so no one would try to talk to him. He’d been talked at enough for one day. Galeforce meant well, of course he did, but the therapist he’d ended up recommending was the most infuriating person he’d ever met. Considering the number of people who’d infuriated him throughout his life, it was almost impressive.

His therapist was also well meaning- or at least he assumed so- but that appeared to only be skin deep. Every word that they spoke had been nothing but empty platitudes. “I’m sure he’s smiling down at you from heaven” this, “he’s in a better place now” that… and of course, their unbearable habit of writing down every damn thing he said. Even when he’d decided to shut up completely, they’d continued nodding and writing as if nothing had changed. Anything that he did say was met with judgemental stares, pitying headshakes, and even more empty platitudes. At one point, they’d asked if he’d ever considered taking a yoga class, to which he stood from the therapist couch and announced he was leaving. Even that didn’t seem to throw them off, letting him go with a condescending “I feel like I’m coming to understand you already, Mr. Price.” It certainly felt condescending, at least.

So now here Rupert was, marching back to his room despite the day hardly being half over, and imagining what his fellow soldiers thought of his absence. They were probably joking about it now with their friends, smacking their gobs with gossip and teasing and-

“Oh, hey, Rupert!”

Son of a gun.

Rupert slowed his pace and looked up. Charles Calvin matched his stride, smiling at him like they were friends instead of a superior and inferior. “Sir,” Rupert said in acknowledgment, giving him a side salute in the hopes that he’d get the hint and leave him alone.

Charles did not get the hint. “How’re you feeling, bud?”

Rupert bit back a retort. Charles meant well, no doubt about it. Everyone meant so damn well.

“Fine.”

“Good to hear,” he replied, still continuing to keep pace with him. Rupert instinctively began to walk faster, but Charles was relentless. “Uh, hey, I was actually wondering something, if you’re not super busy? I mean, I know you don’t have any work since it’s your day off and all, but uh-”

“What do you want? Sir,” he added quickly. Despite being right next to each other, it felt like Charles was chasing him through the hallway. Where the bloody hell was his room?

“Oh, I just wanted to know if you’d like to take a ride with me?”

Rupert nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself quickly as he gave Charles a weird look. “‘A ride?’”

“Yep!” Charles grinned. “I was planning to take my helicopter out for a ride, and I thought you might like to come. Whaddaya think?”

“You… take military property out for fun?”

Charles waved his hand around. “I do this a lot. The guys down at the hangar know me, so it’s not a big production like for a mission or something. Soo…?” Charles leaned to the side with his hands behind his back. “What do you think? Great plan, right?”

Rupert opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to say no; the therapy session had drained him of energy and patience and he wanted some time to himself, but the thought of sitting alone in his tiny dorm room suddenly felt unbearable. What would he even do once he got there? Lie in bed until dinner time? Stare at the wall? Even if he had a book, would he be able to concentrate on reading?

Therapy hadn’t helped him “get over” Dave. How could he ever get over Dave? That implied giving up on him, and Rupert was not a bloody quitter. Especially not when it came to his best mate. They’d been through everything together: the police force, the scouts, even the bloody swim team! Dave couldn’t be dead.

Rupert blinked out of his stupor. The two of them had stopped walking at this point, and Charles was looking at him expectantly. How long had he been waiting for Rupert to say something? The fact that he was still here and hadn’t made an excuse to sod off was bizarre to him. He was being so patient with him… but why?

It was technically Charles’ fault that Rupert had the day off, but given how cracked he’d been acting, it was probably for the best. Whether he intended it or not, it felt like Charles had been looking out for him, and that… was nice.

“Sure.” He almost didn’t hear himself say it, but he did it again. “Sure, if you’re offering. Don’t want to be a bother or nothing…”

Charles beamed at him. “I wouldn’t have asked if you were, bud. Wanna head out right now?”

“You don’t have work to do?”

“Nope! Since the Toppat Airship raid, I’ve mostly been doing paperwork. Since there are no missions to do, it’s a perfect day for flying!”

*

True to Charles’ word, getting in the helicopter and taking off had been a strikingly quick process. The longest part was when Rupert had to wait while an aviation engineer was going down a list of what not to do with a military grade helicopter. They’d spoken in a tone that suggested they’d had this discussion before, but Charles was a veteran pilot, for God’s sake! He didn’t really need to be reminded not to do a loop de loop in midair… right?

Soon afterwards, they were off, the military base growing smaller and smaller as they rose into the air, the roar of the engine and the scratchy murmur of radio talk filling the silence completely.

Rupert had been in the helicopter Charles had been flying during the Toppat Airship raid, but he hadn’t had a chance to watch him operate the thing. It was right impressive, the way Charles flicked this switch or pressed that button, hardly seeming to look at the control board as he flew them through the mostly clear sky. There was a gleam in his eyes as he stared out the front window; a mix of childlike wonder, thrill, and inner peace. It was no wonder he was a veteran, despite being so young.

They’d been flying in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a while when Rupert noticed that they seemed to be descending. Before he could ask if there was something wrong, there was a light bump as the engines died down. They’d touched down on a grass plain, and he could see a steep hill in the distance.

“Why’d we stop?” He asked as Charles unstrapped himself from the cockpit.

Charles grinned at him, unlocking the side hatch of the helicopter and dragging it open. “There’s this awesome place I wanted to show you. It’s just up ahead, you can’t miss it. Come on!” Charles hopped out of the helicopter and began to walk towards the hill. Rupert jumped after him, taking a second to steady his legs before following.

The grass plain was just that: a plain of grass. Long, thin blades of green rustled in the breeze, filling the air with a constant shushing sound that was undercut by another sound, low and steady and rhythmic. Charles hiked up the hill easily, practically buzzing with excitement with every step. Rupert didn’t get winded easily, but Charles hardly seemed troubled by the steep, slippery slope of grass at all. What was this bloke even made of?

By the time Rupert had caught up with Charles at the top of the hill, he was sweating something awful, but the pilot grabbed his hand and dragged him forward. “Oi!” He said, stumbling over his feet. “What is this about-?” Charles stopped, making Rupert smack into him. Rupert glared at him, but Charles continued to smile brightly as he pointed ahead of them.

The top of the hill was a much gentler slope, almost flat, and the grass was shorter here, too. Reaching out across the horizon, as far as the eye could see, was the ocean, the source of the rhythmic sound from earlier. It was a deep, almost indigo color, especially in this late evening light that dyed the sky in rich reds, oranges, and golds. The sea breeze ruffled through Rupert’s hair, almost like a gentle, friendly tousle, and the smell of grass and ocean was downright lovely.

Charles’ grin was blinding. “I knew you’d like it. I found this place a while ago, and I like to stop by sometimes when I need a moment away from everything. And I thought…” he scuffed the toe of his boot against the grass, almost hesitantly. “I thought you could come hang out with ne here. If you wanted, obviously, but-”

“You know,” Rupert said quietly, gazing out into the view that filled his whole vision. “I never liked the beach. No good memories. The water’s too cold, the sand is coarse and rough and gets everywhere…” He sighed slowly, feeling the sweet air slip in and out of his nose. “But up here, when I’m just looking at it instead of being down in it… I quite like it, I think.”

Charles’ smile softened. “I’m glad. And the offer’s still there, if you want; I can take you here whenever. Uh, as long as we don’t have any missions to do, but you probably already knew that.”

Rupert finally turned away from the ocean and regarded Charles Calvin. There was a ruddy glow to his face, likely from the hike up the hill, but he also seemed to have a different kind of glow about him. Despite being Rupert’s superior, Charles had taken time out of his own schedule to bring him here. He’d gone out of his way to check in on him at the gym and get him back to his dorm safely, even after he’d lashed out. He’d brought Rupert away from the base, away from the stress he’d been trying and failing to bulldoze through, to a place that was important to him. There’d been no pressure to talk about Dave, about needing to “move on” or any of that, but the opportunity was there. Rupert could talk to Charles about Dave, or about his personal failings, his irritation with his therapist, probably anything. He could talk, and be listened to.

...

Maybe another day. It would be poor taste to take advantage of Charles’ generosity so soon, but knowing that the opportunity was there… well. It was quite lovely, indeed.

*

The moon was high in the sky by the time the two of them had gotten back to base. It was a thin, off white crescent tonight, surrounded by a clear and starry sky. Most everyone was either in bed or quietly working the night away, so after Charles bid him goodnight, Rupert didn’t have to speak with anyone as he went back to his room.

Even though the two of them hadn’t really done anything on that hill by the sea, Rupert found that there was less tension in his shoulders, an almost hazy feeling of coziness settling deep into his bones. As he unlocked his dorm room door, he was almost tempted to sleep in his clothes instead of changing. But no, he knew better. A proper night’s sleep started with getting on the proper clothes, coziness or no.

It was a comfortable lull of nothing as he slipped into his night clothes. So comfortable, in fact, that he almost didn’t see it.

Rupert blinked and looked back to his desk. There was a small piece of cardstock lying on it, the size of a business card, which was right strange. Rupert didn’t make a habit of collecting business cards, so where on Earth did it come from? There hadn’t been one for him to take from the therapist (not that he would have, even if there were), and the card couldn’t have just appeared there randomly. This left only one answer: someone else had put it there. Someone who was not him.

Someone had been in his room.

Rupert snatched the card off the desk and scanned it quickly. It was uneven, the simple black text at an angle that didn’t line up with the shape, almost like it had been handmade. There were two lines of text: a phone number he didn’t recognize, and a name: Gadget Gabe.

He furrowed his brow. He had no idea who “Gadget Gabe” was; he didn’t even know a Gabe, as far as he could remember. Whose business card was this? Thinking there might be more

information on the back, Rupert flipped it over. There, written in tiny, uneven letters with a clearly dying pen, was a single sentence:

GADGET GABE CAN FIND YOUR FRIEND.

What little remained of the cozy, sleepy feeling in his bones turned cold, then hot. Boiling hot. Rupert slammed his fist on the desk, the card pinched tightly between his fingers. He was trembling with anger, his very vision seeming to shake as he stared at the card.

Who the hell would do something like this? What bloody wanker would break into his room and leave this here, just to mock him and his pain? Who knew that he’d lost Dave and would be cruel enough to hit him right when he was starting to get back on his feet?

He scrambled through the options. The Bukowski Twins seemed the most obvious choice; they’d sent him on that bloody “Backrooms” goose chase the other night, after all. But even though they had good prowess as soldiers, breaking and entering wasn’t their strong suit; not without breaking the lock, anyway, and the lock to Rupert’s room was perfectly intact.

The janitor had a master key for when recruits locked themselves out of their dorms, but the two of them were on good terms. Rupert always kept his room in near perfect shape, and the janitor wouldn’t give their key to just anyone.

Had his therapist stolen the key? They’d only just met that morning, though! Besides, the therapist was supposed to be helping him move on, not keep his hopes up.

Galeforce had the authority to demand the key from the janitor, certainly, but again: he was trying to get Rupert to move on. Even if he’d been upset with Rupert for calling him stupid that morning, the general had thicker skin than that. There was no way he’d stoop to these lows out of petty vengeance.

No, whoever did this had to be someone who knew that he’d lost Dave, who either had the authority or the charisma to pull this off, and who knew he wouldn’t be in his room today…

…Like Charles Calvin.

Charles Calvin had been there when he was drunk, going on and on about his missing best friend. Charles Calvin was not only an authority figure, but charming with an easy smile and a carefree attitude that could theoretically get him anything he asked for. And Charles Calvin had taken him off base for the entire day, keeping him far away from his room until nightfall. It was almost too straightforward: Charles could have asked the janitor to borrow the key, put the card on his desk and locked up just as quickly, before returning the key and walking down the hall until he bumped into Rupert and invited him to go off base.

Rupert felt sick. Merely an hour ago, he thought that Charles might be the one person in the entire military base who would listen to him, the one person he could talk to without fear of judgment or dismissal. Had it all been an act? Was Charles’ entire personality a facade for something cruel and monstrous, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Was everything he thought he knew about the veteran pilot all an elaborate ploy to bring him to his lowest point, simply for the pleasure of it?

He didn’t want to believe it. Charles seemed so kind, so innocent, so perfect…

Too perfect.

So perfect, in fact, that no one would believe him if he tried to tell anyone.

He’d been completely, bloody duped.

Rupert opened his mouth- to scream, to cry, to swear, he didn’t know- only to be interrupted by his phone ringing loudly. Startled, he pulled it out of his pants pocket. An unknown number was written across the screen, the option to decline or answer offered underneath in bright red and green.

This was strange for two reasons. One: Rupert always kept his phone on silent, only letting it vibrate when he wasn’t actively on duty. Two: Rupert’s phone had a pretty good track record of blocking unknown numbers automatically. It was standard issue for military phones, to avoid spam calls as much as possible. Yet for some reason, this number was coming through.

A thought occurred to him, and he lifted the card to his eyes. The number on the card matched the one on his phone perfectly. Whoever had left the card here was calling him, no doubt to mock him, to laugh at him.

Rupert hit the green “answer” button and spat into the speaker, “Calvin, you’d bloody better come out and face me before I hunt you down myself!”

There was silence on the other end. It didn’t even sound like anyone was breathing. Rupert opened his mouth to shout at them again-

“Gadget Gabe really can help find your friend, you know.”

Rupert blinked. That… was not Charles Calvin. Or anyone he knew, for that matter. Unless they were doing a voice? “Who the hell’re you?”

“This… is Gadget Gabe.” The voice was nasally and scratchy, like someone who was both thirsty and needed to clear their throat, but wouldn’t. “Gadget Gabe will help you, if you do as Gadget Gabe requires.”

Rupert felt a vein throb in his neck. Who the hell spoke in the third person? “As soon as I figure out who you are, ‘Gadget Gabe’,” he growled, “you’re dead. You hear that? Bloody dead!”

“There is a place,” the voice continued, as if they hadn’t heard him. “It is called ‘Shady Sea Town’. There is a light house there, where you must go. Gadget Gabe will meet you there, to help you find your precious friend. Gadget Gabe knows things that even your government doesn’t know. Gadget Gabe will show you something incredible.” There was a sudden click, and Rupert pulled the phone away from his ear. They’d hung up on him.

He nearly dropped the phone as he scrambled to redial the number, his hands shaking horribly with anger. He finally managed to hit the call button, only for a prompt to pop up. His number had been blocked.

Rupert shouted and hurled his phone onto the bed, falling to his knees hard enough to bruise as he buried his head in his arms. No matter how hard he tried to stay silent, barely suppressed sobs wracked his whole body. No matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, tears still seeped through to leave a hot and moist stain on the blanket beneath him.

None of this was fair.

None of this was bloody fair.

He’d worked hard to get into the military. He’d trained relentlessly just to make it to boot camp. He’d spilled literal blood and sweat, fighting tooth and nail for his rank, trying so damn hard to prove that he was worthy, that he was capable, that he was perfect. And he had.

But now Dave was gone, like Johnny Panzer when he died earlier that year. The one person he had left was dead, and now everything was falling apart. He was losing his standing, his mind, his friends- had he even had friends besides Dave and Johnny to begin with? No, of course he didn’t. None of these people were his friends. They were coworkers at best, rivals at worst; willing to do any number of cruel deeds to stab him in the back and leave him in the dust. Just to watch him suffer. Just for their amusement.

It wasn’t bloody fair.

Chapter Text

As time went on, Dave found this watery new environment to be less and less pleasant. The water was lukewarm at best, making him feel clammy and chilly. It was no longer as refreshing as it had been before, either; back then, he’d had too little water, but now it was too much, and his skin felt bloated and wrinkly as he kept going forward. But most unpleasant of all was how the ceiling of this narrow canal had been lowering slowly over the course of his journey. He hadn’t wanted to turn around and waste all of his effort, but now he worried that he couldn’t turn around even if he wanted to.

The passage was so narrow and the ceiling so low that he was now crawling through the water on his hands and knees, stretching his neck back at an awkward level to keep the water from splashing up his nose. It was dark now, too; only the distant brightness of the hall behind him allowed just enough light for him to see the grooves of the tiled walls surrounding him. If the ceiling got any lower, he’d have to crawl backwards in order to get out, and if something had been following him- something he couldn’t be sure of, due to the cacophony of water splashing against the tiles- he’d bump right into it, trapping himself in the progress.

All of this crawling wasn’t easy, either. His own movements stirred the water, making it push and pull his body around in uneven rhythms. His water-logged clothes weighed him down, and he was so, so tired. Despite the noise and the tiny space and the pushing and pulling, it was just the correct series of sensations to start lulling him into a dream-like trance. He’d nearly dropped his face into the water several times already, just barely catching himself before he got a nose-full.

Despite the strangeness of the whole situation, there was almost something familiar about this place. His mind drifted along with the water, eyes half closed as Dave tried to remember what this all reminded him of. The tiles… the water… the constant, echoing splashes…

Memories started to form in his mind, shapes and colors that began to solidify into proper images: the school gymnasium in highschool, specifically, the swimming pool. Dave had always liked swimming, especially indoors. There was something almost ethereal about the bright lights overhead glittering across the constantly rippling surface. The deep, gorgeous blue of the water, the hypnotic scent of chlorine, and the strange feeling of the concrete pool ledge, rough and a bit slimy from the constant wetness.

When Rupert had suggested that they join the swim team together, Dave found he couldn’t say no. He barely qualified, but that didn’t seem to matter to Rupert. He’d been so thrilled that they’d both made the team, his joy infectious and all consuming. Even when Dave never ended up winning a single race, Rupert had helped him feel like he belonged.

He could almost imagine one of those races now; the droning cheers of people he didn’t know, the taste of sweat and chlorine splashing against his lips, the sight of Rupert Price, fresh out of the water and shining like an angel as he waved his arms over his head, a blinding grin on his face and Dave’s name on his tongue.

“You’re almost there, Davie!” He shouted, waving his arms and gesturing for Dave to come closer. “You’ve got this! Keep going, Dave!”

Encouraged, Dave powered through; he was running out of energy, but the pool was only so long. He was getting there, closer and closer to Rupert.

…Wasn’t he?

Something wasn’t right. No matter how hard he swam, Dave didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Or maybe it was that Rupert was getting farther away? He was just out of reach, so close and yet so far, waving his arms frantically as he called Dave’s name over and over. “Dave!” He shouted. “Dave!”

“I’m coming, Rupert!” Dave shouted back. Technically, he wasn’t swimming the right way any more. He was supposed to dip his head in the water between strokes, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off of him for a second. “Rupert, I’m coming!”

“Dave!” Rupert yelled, “Dave!” His voice sounded strange; high pitched and scratchy, catching in odd places as if his voice were slowly growing hoarse.

He was screaming, Dave realized, more terrified than he’d ever heard him in his life. “Dave! Dave! DAVE-!”

Dave’s hand missed the floor and he lurched forward in surprise, dunking his whole head under the water.

He quickly managed to get back to the surface, coughing and spluttering and splashing helplessly. He wasn’t in his highschool pool. He was in the dark, tiny passageway, and the floor he’d been crawling on seemed to have vanished beneath him, leaving him treading water that was deep, too deep. Dave tried to swim backwards, hoping to find the ledge he’d been crawling across for so many hours, but he was exhausted, barely able to keep himself afloat.

No- there was something else, too; something that sent bolts of cold, nauseating fear through his every organ. Something was pulling him down; not a physical something, but a sensation that dragged him down slowly, like a drain or a whirlpool. The water itself was pulling him down, farther away from the ledge and towards the bottom.

Dave splashed wildly, often slamming his hands and arms painfully against the walls and ceiling as he desperately tried to stay afloat, but it was no use. Dave was running out of strength.

He could hardly manage one more breath before he sank down, down, down, into the infinite, watery darkness.

Chapter Text

Rupert had been dismissed from attending PT again, something that was probably supposed to help him get better, but only succeeded at making him feel like a disgusting excuse of a human being, trapped in a place he didn't belong. Without PT, without work, without anything to occupy his time, his whole existence felt unpleasant and miserable. Anything and everything that did happen was nothing more than a blip in the radar of his useless life. That included his next therapy session.

That was where he was now: lying on the therapist’s couch with his hands clasped over his stomach, staring dully at the ceiling as his therapist droned every possible empty assurance in existence. Their words passed over him, hardly registering in his ears, as if he were asleep and awake at the same time.

As the therapist rambled about going to the beach or something, Rupert was trapped in his head, swimming through every cruelty he’d suffered like molasses. The sickeningly sweet smiles of Charles Calvin, the pitying, shaming gaze of Galeforce, the mocking, unfeeling sneers of the Bukowski Twins, and his dear, sweet, precious Dave, who was gone forever. No matter how hard Rupert fought, kicked, or screamed, there was no way he could have him back, and there was no one who could fix it and make it better.

Well… there was technically one person.

Supposedly.

Gadget Gabe really didn’t sound like anyone he knew, but then again, he didn’t know his fellow soldiers that well. He’d come here to work, not make friends. But he couldn’t think of a single soldier here that would be able to do everything needed to sneak that business card into his room without anyone noticing.

Was it possible that Gadget Gabe was an actual person? But then who had put the card in his room? Security was always tight, so there was no way a random civilian could sneak into the dorms undetected. Maybe Gadget Gabe was a friend of a soldier, or used a soldier to act as a delivery person of sorts? The man did say he knew things the government didn’t know. What if that wasn’t a bluff?

There were too many questions, too many things he didn’t know, and Rupert hated it. What could he even do at this point? It wasn’t like he could go up to Gadget Gabe and demand answers-

Rupert sat up ever so slightly. His therapist didn’t seem to notice.

The lighthouse in Shady Sea Town. He had no idea where that was, or even if it was a real place, but if it was? Gadget Gabe has essentially given him his home address. He could literally go up to Gadget Gabe and demand answers.

It was a stretch, a hail Mary, and possibly a complete waste of time.

It was all he had left.

“The beach,” he said, startling his therapist into silence. He shifted his head to stare at them. “You said I should go to the beach, innit? I think you’re right.”

The therapist blinked, then sighed, probably in relief, and smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’ll write a note for you to give to your superior; that way they can approve some vacation time for you.” They opened a filing cabinet and took out a small piece of paper, scribbling something down before holding it out to Rupert. “I can also send you a list of yoga poses to practice-”

Rupert snapped the paper up with a “right-thanks-bye-then” before rushing out of the office as subtly as he could. As soon as the office door was out of sight, though, he practically broke into a sprint, ignoring anyone he passed and their disapproving looks. For the first time in days, he was filled with something besides despair and pain: a sense of thrill, dizzying but intoxicating. He was giddy with the feeling, like he was about to do something he was absolutely not allowed to do, and that high drove him all the way to General Galeforce’s office door, fist raised just over the wood in preparation to knock.

Technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He had an official note from the therapist to give him permission, he was about to get approval for this impromptu vacation by a superior, and he was, in fact, going to go to a beach. The only thing he was hiding was what he planned to do once he got to that beach. Yoga would be the last thing on his mind.

There was a tiny part of him- that stupid, perfect-toy-soldier part of him- that felt a hint of shame at the idea of deceiving his superior. That feeling was quashed right quick, though. What the others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Even if Gadget Gabe wasn’t able to help him, he could at least beat the snot out of him for getting his hopes up.

He knocked on the door.

There was just enough time for Rupert to school his expression before Galeforce opened the door, blinking down at him in surprise. “Good morning, Price.”

“Good morning, sir,” he replied with a proper salute. “Are you busy right now?”

“I can spare a few minutes…” Galeforce said slowly. “Is there something you need to talk about?”

Rupert took a deep breath. Now or never. “I was speaking with the therapist you recommended for me,” he explained, “and they said I should try taking a vacation at the beach. There’s this place- Shady Sea Town? I have some… relatives there, and I thought I’d go visit them for a week. With your permission. Sir.” He thrust the permission slip in the general’s direction.

Galeforce was silent, reading the slip of paper slowly with his eyes. Rupert kept his expression neutral, but a cold sweat started to break out on the back of his neck. Did Galeforce see through his ruse? Would he refuse to sign off on his vacation?

…Was he in on the entire military’s apparent scheme to emotionally break him?

After a long moment, Galeforce smiled. “I have to say, I’m surprised, Price. I don’t think you’ve taken a single vacation since you joined the military. I’m glad that you’re taking some time for yourself and your family; it’ll really do you some good. In fact, let me sign that for you right now.” He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pen, bracing the paper against his arm as he carefully signed it. He didn’t give it back right away, though. “There’s just one thing I’d like you to keep in mind for next time.”

Rupert bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes, sir?”

“Next time, you ought to go to Captain Canterbury or Major Panzer for this sort of thing. I’m no longer your direct superior, after all. It’s a good thing I had some time to spare.”

“...Ah.” Despite himself, Rupert felt his face heat up. “Right then. I’ll do that next time, sir.”

Galeforce handed him the permission slip, then set a hand firmly on Rupert’s shoulder. “I do mean it, Price. This vacation will do you good. I’m proud of you for taking steps in the right direction.”

Rupert nodded, a tiny lump of shame sitting low in his throat. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Good man.” The general patted him twice before letting him go, offering a brief salute before striding down the hallway to wherever he was supposed to be going.

Rupert watched him leave. He seemed genuinely happy for him, completely innocent of Rupert’s deception. It hurt a little, to take advantage of his leader’s trust like this... b ut there was no going back now.

Rupert hurried in the direction of his dorm, pulling out his phone as he went to search for the cheapest, quickest plane ticket to Shady Sea Town, USA.

Chapter Text

Upon waking, Dave turned on his side and threw up. It was mostly water, way too much water, and each choking heave sent lances of burning pain through his entire body. He sobbed between chokes as his stomach slowly emptied itself.

He trembled with effort and strain as he tried to remember what happened. He’d been dreaming; or he’d been drowning. The pain was muddling his mind, making him feel clumsy and uncoordinated as he struggled to string his thoughts together. His ears were ringing, too, and his tongue felt huge and fat, like he could choke on it. His vision was blurred.

After what felt like hours, things began to clear up around him. He was lying on a thin, dark blue carpet, patterned with tiny and confusing shapes that came in yellows, reds, greens, and pinks. It almost looked like confetti. The carpet stretched far beyond what he could see, barren of any furniture whatsoever. Wait, no- there was something up ahead, and it looked kind of like… a bounce house?

Dave forced himself to sit up, wincing through a pounding headache to look around. As he looked, his pain was slowly replaced with confusion, curiosity, and surprisingly, anticipation. The room- if it could even be called that- was huge, like a warehouse. The ceiling was far overhead, and he couldn’t even see the walls. The yellow and red object he’d seen was, in fact, an inflatable bounce house, but it wasn’t the only one.

In every direction he looked, inflatable attractions of all sorts were scattered randomly around the space. There were slides, climbing walls, miniature race courses, even what looked like an inflatable basketball court, and they were all big and colorful and blown up perfectly. The air machines attached to each attraction droned in a low, comfortable hum, and it smelled like plastic and grubby hands; a surprisingly happy scent.

Dave had heard of places like this. The wealthier kids in school came to these places for their birthday parties, and they were supposedly the best parties in the world. Dave couldn’t afford such luxuries, and he was never close enough to the other kids to get invited, so the idea of coming to one of these places always felt like a pipe dream.

But now here he was, with the entire place to himself, despite all of the pain he’d just finished powering through. He felt… happy. Excited. Like a kid in a candy store, so to speak. And since he was here, with seemingly nothing to stop him from doing so, well…

Why not enjoy himself for a while?

*

The hype was real.

The giant slides weren’t much of a struggle to climb, and the smooth and speedy trip down was well worth it everytime. The obstacle courses were just the right amount of challenging to make him want to try again and again, despite not keeping track of his times. And despite the lack of variety between bounce houses, Dave found himself going inside each one anyway, wondering if one of them was bouncier than the rest.

He was resting now, making random breathy giggles as he lay in the center of his most recent bounce house. Maybe it was silly to find so much enjoyment in this place, but Dave had been sad and afraid for so long that this was practically heaven. The one thing that would make this even better was if Rupert were here.

Rupert hadn’t been able to afford places like this either, and though he always insisted that he didn’t like the idea of a room full of plastic slides, Dave had always gotten the sense that he might have been a bit jealous of those rich kids. If Rupert were with him right now, they could have raced each other on the obstacle courses, competed to get the most hoops in the basketball court, and slid and bounced to their heart's content. They could be resting together, if Rupert were here. Dave could picture it perfectly: Rupert’s arms wrapped around him protectively, strong, warm, and loving-

Dave’s stomach jerked so violently that he sat up in shock, only to curl back in on himself. The pain was sharp, yet hollow, twisting inward as if trying to eat itself. Of course; he hadn’t eaten anything for at least a whole day, and he just wasted so much time and energy on this frivolous crap!

He was starving to death, and it hurt.

He managed to crawl out of the bounce house, the aching, desperate need for food forcing him to keep going. He tumbled out of the entrance, knocking his head against the floor awkwardly, but too entrenched in his hunger pains to really notice. He needed to eat, he needed to eat, he needed to eat-

…Was that a cake?

There was a table, a fold out table that he somehow hadn’t seen earlier, and on that table was a simple iced sheet cake. It was rectangular and blank, with a simple border of blue icing around the edge for decoration. There was even a chair in front of the cake with a shiny balloon tied to the back of it. A bright red paper plate and plastic fork sat neatly next to the cake as well, as if the whole arrangement had been set up especially for him.

Bewildered, Dave pulled himself into the chair and stared at the cake. It looked like something straight out of a grocery store bakery, prepped and ready to have a name and message written along the top. It looked so good… He’d put a forkful into his mouth before he could even begin to think it might be poisoned.

There was a light chill to it, as if it had been kept in the refrigerator. The chocolate cake was a bit dry, but the sugary sweet icing made up for it perfectly. It was absolutely delicious, and Dave kept eating, forgoing the plate completely as he shoveled cake into his mouth. He managed to eat several slices before he was full, but it wasn’t an unpleasant fullness. It was satisfying, cozy and relaxing in a way that made him very, very sleepy.

He sighed in relief, leaning back in the chair with satisfaction. He had no idea how he hadn’t seen the cake to begin with, but he was immensely grateful for it, like his guardian angel had decided to grant him a boon for his many, many, many trials.

Dave glanced back at the bounce house he’d been in moments earlier. He couldn’t imagine a better bed to sleep in, though he felt a bit chilly now. It would have been nice if there was something to use as a blanket…

He looked back to the table and saw a thin, plasticky red table cloth draped halfway over it; he must have been too hungry to see it earlier. He dragged it off the table and into the bounce house, taking a moment to nestle into one of the grooves in the floor before closing his eyes. Things were finally looking up, and the humming drone of the air machines lulled him easily into a gentle, wonderful sleep.

Chapter Text

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when Rupert finally exited the tiny airport and stepped into Shady Sea Town. Honestly, it was a mite amazing that there was an airport in this crummy little town at all, especially when he surveyed the extent of its crumminess.

Like the name implied, Shady Sea Town looked like a desolate tourist trap. There were a few dirty buildings that might have once been painted in pretty pastels, but now looked gray and brown under the cloudy sky above. Even the roads looked filthy, with bits of trash and cigarette butts stuck between the cracks in the sidewalks. The roar of the ocean was loud, even from up here, and the scent of rotten fish permeated everything. Not only did the town smell fishy, but the people did, too; any locals Rupert caught a glimpse of were beady-eyed and scruffy, darting between the buildings and peering at him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Rupert pursed his lips as he strode through the town, only vaguely paying attention to any points of interest he passed. Shady Sea Town was situated above the beach on a small hill, and a winding path of grimy cobblestone led towards a fishing pier. Far to the left, perched precariously on an outcropping of sharp rocks, was a lighthouse. A sign he skimmed over seemed to indicate the lighthouse was once the town’s pride and joy. Were lighthouses impressive enough to be regarded so highly? Hell if Rupert knew.

He eventually came upon a town square of sorts, surrounded by rotting benches that faced a disgusting-looking fountain. Rupert decided it was as good a place as any to stop for breakfast. He picked the cleanest looking bench and set his backpack down by his feet, pulling out a sandwich he’d bought at the airport to eat. He’d seen a restaurant, but now was not the time to get food poisoning. Besides, his funds were limited; he’d found a cheap wallet to fill with a reasonable amount of cash, and he’d packed lightly, too. His backpack contained a single change of clothes, a simple medkit, a flashlight, and a swiss army knife, just in case. He was currently wearing some camo pants, boots, and a black wife beater under his PT jacket, and his dog tags were tucked safely under the wife beater, in case something happened. Which it wouldn’t. Rupert was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and one random bloke in an old lighthouse wouldn’t exactly be a long, hard fight. This would be over before the day was done. Nothing bad would happen. At all.

After finishing the bland ham and cheese sandwich, Rupert walked down the path to the fishing pier. He hoped there was a path down there to the lighthouse; otherwise, the most direct path would be along the beach. Rupert didn’t like the beach on a good day, but from up here, the beach looked right putrid, covered with crap from the sea and human trash. Was it really so bloody hard not to litter?

The pier was soaking wet, with slicks of red and pink stained into the wood from past catches. It was empty except for a single fisherman tending to his lines. Rupert stared down the shoreline towards the lighthouse and grimaced. The beach was even worse than he thought. It would have been a blessing if it were more rocks than sand, but no; sand was clearly the dominant resident, and it looked just damp enough to stick to his boots and get into any nook and crevice it could, all at once. A film of what he hoped was seafoam covered the lower half of the shore, frothing and spitting slightly whenever the waves slapped against it.

He sighed sharply. Whatever. Sand was sand, muck was muck. He could handle it; he’d faced worse threats before. He lifted his foot to make the first step-

“Oi, landlubber!”

Rupert glanced over his shoulder to see that fisherman approaching him. He looked exactly like what a stereotypical old sea dog would look like: long gray hair and a beard, frayed and stringy from the salty breeze, a deep tan that wrinkled his face in layers, and even a scarred over eye that was just missing an eye patch to complete the look. “Can I help you, sir?” Suspicious or not, it would be smart of Rupert to put his best foot forward.

The man scowled at him. “Ye ain’t headin’ fer that there lighthouse, are ye?”

Rupert glanced between the man and the lighthouse. “I am, sir.”

“Not the brightest fish in the sea, eh?” The man shook his head slowly. “The lighthouse ain’t what it used to be, boyo. It’s not safe there, especially nowadays.”

“Nowadays, sir?”

The fisherman’s scowl deepened. “Some loony moved in last year; claims to be a great inventor. The only thing he’s invented is this town’s bankruptcy!” He spat in the direction of the lighthouse. “Things were slow here, but with that freak having his way, th’ whole town’s doomed to sink.”

Rupert recognized that this was a serious and perhaps even sensitive topic to the man, so he did his best to hide his excitement. A crazy scientist holed up in an abandoned lighthouse? He hadn’t come to this crap town for nothing after all! Still, it would be smashing if he could make sure it was the right scientist before he made the trip along the beach. “That scientist,” he said as casually as he knew how, “is he called ‘Gadget Gabe’, do you think?”

The man barked, though Rupert couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sound of anger. “That’s what he claims, but that scallywag’s ‘gadgets’ are only good fer puttin’ this town in danger. T’was bad enough when he locked us out of our own property, but then his experiments…” His eye drifted toward the sea, looking at something Rupert couldn’t see. “Hell on Earth,” he finally said. “That loon will bring Hell on Earth. Ye don’t want to go to that lighthouse, boyo.”

Rupert bit the inside of his cheek, glancing again at the old structure across the beach. Gadget Gabe had managed to get his military phone number, something that should have been a highly kept secret, and he did claim to know things the government wasn’t aware of. If this fisherman was right, then Rupert might be in for a tougher fight than he thought.

He shook his head and fixed the fisherman with a firm but hopefully reassuring look. “Don’t worry, sir. As it happens, I plan to give that bloke what for. I can handle it.”

Another wad of spit in the direction of the lighthouse. “Good luck, boyo. Poseidon help ye.” And with that, the man turned back to tend to his fishing line once more.

*

The hour-long trek across the shore was every bit as unpleasant as Rupert had expected. He was hot, sore, and he could feel every single grain of sand that had wormed its way into his socks. Top that all off with the climb he’d had to take up the rocks, sharp enough to leave cuts all over his hands as he’d gone… Well, he was ready to be done with this whole thing.

The lighthouse, surprisingly, didn’t seem that tall once he was standing under it. It was only about as tall as a two story building, and the peeling black and white paint seemed cliche. There was a short series of stone steps leading up to the door, which was rotting and practically hanging off its hinges. It creaked loudly when he nudged it open with his foot, and Rupert reached into his backpack to transfer his knife to his pocket.

The inside was dark, made of clammy gray stone, and a staircase spiraled upwards without a handrail of any sort for safety. The more interesting thing to note was the door descending into a dark basement, which ended at another door. Rupert retrieved his flashlight, took a deep breath, and began to walk down.

The room at the bottom of the steps smelled awful, but for very different reasons than Rupert had expected. Trash and dirty laundry littered nearly every available inch of the floor, aside from a vaguely path-shaped line that led towards a hallway. The trash mostly consisted of empty crisp bags and takeout boxes, and it was clear that whoever lived here had never heard of deodorant. He wrinkled his nose as he tiptoed through it all. People didn’t choose to live this way- or at least he hoped they didn’t- but how on Earth could anyone let things get this bad?

There was a click behind him, and he whirled around to see that the door had shut behind him. Instantly, his hackles raised, and he put away his flashlight and drew his knife, keeping his stance low and slow as he crept further inside. The hallway that the path of laundry led to rounded a corner into a very different looking room, made of dark metal and mostly empty aside from a single wide window on the far wall.

The window looked into a nearly identical metal room, though it was filled with strange machines and cables that were aimed at a slightly raised platform. Under this side of the window, a long row of blinking buttons, switches, and dials hummed and beeped rhythmically. And at the very center of this apparent control panel was a chair, turned away but very clearly occupied by a single person.

Rupert carefully slipped his knife into the sleeve of his PT jacket, where he could easily reach it at a moment’s notice. “Oi, you,” he called, keeping his voice firm. “Are you Gadget Gabe?” The chair turned slowly, revealing…

…the grossest little man Rupert ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes on. He was short and greasy, his lab coat stained in multiple places while there was an obvious smear of food near the corner of his mouth. If he had to guess, it was from a meal that happened days ago.

He wore thick, round glasses that were so fogged up that Rupert couldn’t see his eyes, he was bald except for a single curly hair sticking out of the top of his head, and his thick lips were quirked into a very dubious smirk. The little wanker was even tapping his finger tips together like a comic book super villain.

“Gadget Gabe was expecting you, Rupert Price,” he said in that same nasally voice Rupert had heard over the phone.

He bit the inside of his cheek and widened his stance. It figured that someone who’d gotten his phone number would know his name, but it was still extremely off-putting. The man continued, “Gadget Gabe knew it was only a matter of time until you sought Gadget Gabe’s help. Gadget Gabe knows many things…”

Rupert had never met this man in his life, he was certain of that now, which made the fact that he’d managed to put a business card in his room all the more confusing, which in turn made him angrier. “How did you get into my room? And how did you get my phone number?”

The man chuckled. “One of Gadget Gabe’s great gadgets. The teleporter has many uses, yes…”

“Teleporter-?”

“And as for the number…” He was silent for a moment, leveling Rupert with a frown. “Gadget Gabe googled it. Obviously.”

Rupert stared at him, blinking once. Twice. “...You can’t just google a private military phone number; that’s classified!”

The man shrugged. “Gadget Gabe googled it.”

Rupert ran a hand through his hair. He’d have to unpack that later. “You said you knew about my- my friend, yeah?” His hands turned to fists. “If you’re smart, you’ll surrender him safely, now , before I beat the hell out of you-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Gadget Gabe waved his hands frantically, a hint of fear in his voice. “Let Gadget Gabe ask just one question.”

Rupert lowered his stance, ready to pounce. “Just one. Go.”

The man shoved his glasses up his nose hurriedly. “30.75 degrees, -150.82 degrees.”

Rupert blinked. “...Come again?”

“30.75 degrees latitude, -150.82 degrees longitude. Do these coordinates sound familiar?”

Rupert was not a navigator by any stretch of the word, but he did know those coordinates. How could he forget? The attack on the Toppats had been somewhere around those coordinates, just before Galeforce had given the greenlight to board the airship. When his hopes of finding Dave had been at their highest.

Gadget Gabe giggled, an altogether unpleasant sound. “Gadget Gabe knew it. Gadget Gabe knows many things…”

Rupert felt his face flush. Letting his thoughts and feelings show on his face was a huge no, especially when facing an enemy. The little freak was getting the upper hand; he needed to get back on top right quick. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Gadget Gabe will explain, if you give Gadget Gabe some time. Will you listen?”

Rupert’s eyebrows twitched. He really, really wanted to crack the man on the nose- he’d come all this way, after all. But he also knew that there were things that he didn’t understand quite yet, and unfortunately, this gross little wanker was the one with the details. It was fine. Rupert could be patient. He nodded and gestured to Gadget Gabe to keep talking.

“Gadget Gabe has many experiments,” he began.

Bloody hell, here comes the monologue.

“Gadget Gabe has particular interests in the manipulation of time and space; the teleporter is Gadget Gabe’s most successful- and most volatile- gadget. However, there is more to be done.”

He shifted in his seat to rest his cheek in one hand, the other lazily patting his leg in random rhythms. “Gadget Gabe seeks to create infinite storage with the power of pocket dimensions; for Gadget Gabe’s own use, mostly, but selling it to the world governments could prove quite profitable.” He chuckled to himself. “Recently, Gadget Gabe’s gadgets detected a spike in energy. For a single moment, a pocket dimension opened high above those coordinates. It is possible that anyone near this energy spike- perhaps your friend, for instance- may now be trapped in that very pocket dimension.” His thick lips curled into a crazed smile. “Gadget Gabe calls this place… the Backrooms.”

And just like that, Rupert was out of patience. “Are you arsing me right now?!” He exploded. “You made me come all the way out to this shite town to spew this internet garbage? I’ve had enough of this! I’ll box your ears, and then some!”

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” Gadget Gabe shrieked. “Gadget Gabe can explain! It’s not what you think!”

Rupert reached into the sleeve of his jacket, flashing the knife but not pulling it out. “You get sixty seconds. Talk.”

Gadget Gabe whined like an injured puppy, a mental image that was not improving Rupert’s mood. “The internet stole the name from Gadget Gabe, yes they did! But the Backrooms are real, they are! Gadget Gabe can prove it!”

Rupert rotated his wrist. “Well? Go on then. Prove it.”

The little man scrambled to press a button on the control panel behind him, and a screen popped out of the ceiling above his head. After a second, a series of video clips began playing; mostly from security footage, based on the quality. And during each of these seconds-long clips, things would simply… disappear. People, objects, even an entire car, seemed to slip through the ground as easily as if they were falling through thin air. Rupert studied the clip of the car in particular, which phased through a section of a highway in a flash, only for the following cars to pass over the road just as quickly.

After the last clip, a picture was displayed on the screen that drew Rupert’s attention completely. It was the room behind the window, capturing every strange device aimed at the center of the platform. Under the photograph were the words “Doorway to the Backrooms”.

“Open it,” he said before he could stop himself. “Open the door and prove you’re not making this up.”

Gadget Gabe sighed shakily. “The doorway takes much planning and power to open, let alone keep open. HOWEVER-!” He threw his arms over his head when Rupert shot him a glare. “Gadget Gabe knew, yes he did, that you would come to find your friend! So Gadget Gabe prepared for your arrival, prepared to open the doorway once more!” He slowly lowered his arms. “Gadget Gabe just needs one more day before the doorway can be opened. Just one more day…”

Rupert glowered at him. “‘Just one more day,’ innit? More like one more day to run when I’m not looking! If you’re lying-”

“Gadget Gabe can do it! Honest!” The man shouted, sounding firmer than he had up until now. “That is not the problem!”

Rupert squinted. “What are you on about?”

Gadget Gabe sighed in frustration. “Gadget Gabe has sent many subjects through this doorway, but Gadget Gabe has never seen one come back. They all just disappear.”

Rupert’s brain stalled at that last sentence. Then a hot rush of indignance opened his mouth, on behalf of the people this man had murdered-

“Not people!” The man insisted, as if reading his mind. “Lab rats, house pets; nothing of value.” Rupert stared at him in horror. This seemed to irritate the man more than anything.

“Blow up a dozen rats, no one bats an eye. Set one basket of kittens on fire, everyone loses their minds…” he grumbled to himself.

This did not make Rupert feel better in the slightest.

Gadget Gabe cleared his throat and continued. “Gadget Gabe cannot enter the Backrooms, you see, for Gadget Gabe must keep the door open from our world. Now, though…” he smirked once more, pointing directly at Rupert. “You need to enter the Backrooms to find your friend. Gadget Gabe needs a live subject to understand the Backrooms. Do you see?”

Rupert crossed his arms. “You want me to be your guinea pig.”

The little man leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and holding his hands out to the sides. “If you are unsuccessful, Gadget Gabe gets one subject to analyze. If you succeed, Gadget Gabe gets two. And if you die, well… Gadget Gabe can still get valuable data. Gadget Gabe wins, however this turns out.”

“And what makes you so certain that I’m going to agree to this at all?” Rupert asked.

The man looked at him for a long moment, still in that stupidly cocky position in his chair. Then, he shrugged.

Rupert blinked. “What?”

“Gadget Gabe cannot make you take this deal,” the little man said with another shrug. “Gadget Gabe cannot make you do anything. But,” he leaned forward, glasses gleaming dully in the light. “Gadget Gabe knows things about the Backrooms, what lies in store for those who get trapped there. Things that your friends might not survive.” 

A chill ran down the back of Rupert’s neck.

Gadget Gabe didn’t seem to notice, instead counting off his fingers lazily. “Most likely, your friend will die of thirst or exhaustion- so painful! Your friend could lose his mind in a never ending maze- so sad! Your friend might even be driven to beat his own head against a wall until he dies-”

“Stop.” He had to force the word, nearly choking on it. “Just- stop, okay? I… I need to think.” Rupert turned his head away from Gadget Gabe, eyes clenched shut.

The little freak was manipulating him, he knew it. He could practically hear him smirking.The problem was… if there was any truth to it...

Dave was plenty capable- they’d been partners at West Mesa before the layoffs- but that was mostly when he was with others. When he was alone, he overthought, doubting himself and his abilities. Getting distracted, jumpy, resorting to freeze over fight or flight. Dave was aware of this problem, and when they had to get new jobs, Rupert had suggested being a night guard in the museum. Dave had been unsure, so afraid of being alone when a thief could break in at any moment, but Rupert had assured him that he’d never be without his fellow security guards.

Rupert had told Dave about the job, convinced him to take it despite his worries, and then all of this happened. It was his fault that Dave had gotten into so many messes. Rupert had to help him, to prove that Dave could trust him again, even after that grave error in judgment.

There was hardly even a question.

A rustle of movement drew his attention back to Gadget Gabe, who was now holding out a small piece of paper in his direction. Rupert skimmed it quickly; it was a contract. “If you sign this,” Gadget Gabe said, “you consent to everything and anything this experiment entails. Physical health, mental health, everything in between… and you cannot claim that you were forced into this against your will. So… will you sign?”

Rupert slowly took the contract and read it more carefully. It seemed almost word for word as Gadget Gabe claimed; he couldn’t see any obvious loopholes. The whole thing was suspicious as hell, of course. The man was lying about all of this, he had to be, but… did that matter?

Johnny had died in a car accident while on the job; Rupert had witnessed the whole thing as his police partner. That, combined with Dave’s disappearance that same night, led Rupert to quit the force and join the military. He hadn’t been able to save Johnny, but there’d still been the possibility of saving Dave… until he disappeared after the Toppat airship raid. If Gadget Gabe was lying, then all evidence pointed to Dave being dead. If he was telling the truth, then there was a chance, small as it was, that he could still be saved.

Dave was all he had left. Most of his family had passed away or were scattered across the vast countryside of England, and he certainly didn’t have any friends in the military. He’d lied to Galeforce to his face; he was certain the other soldiers mocked him behind his back; and even if Charles Calvin hadn’t intended to manipulate him, he was still a superior. They could never be friends. Why would Charles even want to be friends with a failure like him, anyway?

If he found Dave, though, he could start over. They could find an apartment together, get new jobs, live out their lives like they’d planned after West Mesa.

It could be perfect.

He wordlessly took the pen and signed his name on the dotted line. “We have until tomorrow, yeah?” He asked as Gadget Gabe shoved the contract into his lab coat. “What do we do until then?”

Gadget Gabe hummed a laugh. “We have just enough time to establish your baseline- your heart rate, blood pressure, other vitals- so Gadget Gabe can see what changes occur during your time in the Backrooms. As such…” he reached out and made grabbing motions with his hands. “Gadget Gabe would like to start with a… thorough examination…”

It’s for Dave’s sake, Rupert thought as he grimaced. This is all for Dave.

It was always for Dave.

Chapter Text

In the apartment that he shared with Johnny and Rupert, Dave’s bedroom was the smallest one. It was really only big enough for a twin bed, a side table, and a set of drawers. Luckily, since those were the only pieces of furniture he had, Dave was happy to take it. The bed cover was a dark bluish-gray, a few books were kept on the nightstand and on top of the drawers, and his West Mesa uniform hung on a hanger on the back of the door so it wouldn’t get wrinkled. All in all, a very basic room, but it was nice to have a space that was his.

He opened his eyes slowly, a hazy, blissfully sleepy feeling covering his body and mind like a weighted blanket. Distantly, he could hear the plinks and clatters of someone making lunch in the kitchen. His head was resting in someone’s lap as they brushed their fingers through his hair. He could sense who it was without looking.

“This is nice,” he murmured, gazing at the opposite wall with eyes half-lidded. “I wish we could do this forever.”

Rupert ruffled his hair. “This is just a dream, Dave,” he said.

Surprisingly, Dave found that he didn’t mind this revelation at all. “I wish we could do this forever,” he repeated, snuggling his head against Rupert’s lap with a sleepy smile. “You’re so amazing all the time. You’re brave, and strong… you always make me feel safe. I feel so special when I’m with you.”

“I’m not actually Rupert.” He scratched Dave’s head gently. “This isn’t real. But it could be, if you just wake up.”

Dave drew an arm around to cling to Rupert’s leg, pressing his head further into his lap. There was no point in doing so, if this really was a dream, but he’d never felt so tired, so relaxed. He really did want this to last forever. He felt so heavy…

Rupert’s fingers slowed. “You need to wake up, Dave.”

Dave was so heavy. So tired. Like he could sink into Rupert’s lap and his bed and never come out.

“Dave.” Rupert brought his fingers to Dave’s chin, gently tilting his face upwards. “Look at me, Dave.”

A small smile grew on his lips, and Dave opened his eyes to meet Rupert’s.

He stared into an infinite expanse of yellow hallways that blended into a solid, pulsing mass of shapes that filled his heart with cold terror. Something was still petting his hair, but there was a strength behind the motion now, something desperate and possessive. Dave was so heavy that he couldn’t breathe.

“Dave!” Rupert shouted. “WAKE UP!”

*

Dave startled awake, scrambling to untangle himself from the plastic table cloth he’d been using as a blanket. Something huge was on top of him, heavy and slick with sweat and choking him with the overwhelming scent of plastic. Blinded by the heavy material, he flailed his limbs wildly, only just managing to crawl free through a gap before gulping down precious air. He flipped onto his back and crawled backwards, away from the bounce house he’d been sleeping in. It was completely deflated. If he hadn’t woken up when he did, he would have suffocated to death.

He stumbled to his feet, swallowing thickly. All of the other inflatables were still erect, but there was an eeriness to it all now. A room with distractions that seemed never ending… He needed to find the exit.

Dave turned away from the deflated attraction and spotted the folding table from earlier. There was a new cake where the old one had been, a round one with white icing and pink bordering. A bitter, acidic taste crawled up his throat, and he hurried away.

He kept to one direction, hoping he’d eventually find a wall and from there, an exit. This resulted in the inflatables forming a sort of hallway. Something about them was different, too: the proportions of certain bits and the way some of them seemed to twist in on themselves was now uncanny, not fun. Dave put his hands to the side of his face, hoping to block out the distractions. It worked for a few minutes, but then he saw something different but equally unsettling.

It was another table, though this one was completely surrounded by chairs, each with a shiny gold balloon tied to the back. At the head of the table was another cake. It looked homemade, a little lumpy and misshapen with pink frosting and yellow roses on the edges. Written on the top were the words, “Congratulations, Martha! Graduate 2017.”

Dave slowed his pace. 2017? That was years ago, wasn’t it? Yet it looked like it had been baked this morning. Who was Martha?

He shook his head quickly and kept going. He couldn’t get distracted. He needed to get out of here. “Exit,” he muttered to himself. “Exit, exit, exit. Gotta find an exit.”

More tables appeared along his path, each featuring its own cake at the head. Wedding cakes, birthday cakes, gender reveal cakes, even a “just because” cake or two, but none of these cakes had his name on them. It was as if entire table sets and party placements had been plucked from where they were meant to be and put here to distract him.

To try and keep him here.

Dave broke into a run, forcing himself to keep his eyes locked ahead of him so that he wouldn’t slow down. “Exit,” he kept repeating, “there’s gotta be an exit. I need to go to an exit, any exit. I need to get out of here-”

He screeched to a sudden halt, flailing his arms wildly to keep his balance. There was a wall, just ahead of him, sky blue with fluffy white clouds painted on randomly. It was a cheap imitation of the real sky, but he was relieved to see it nonetheless. There was a ball pit in front of the wall, about the size of a small pool, but Dave could easily walk around it to put his hand on that fake sky and keep going until he reached the exit he was desperate for… 

But in the brief moments he’d stopped, Dave had been completely surrounded by tables. There was no indication that they were alive or could move on their own; there were no rails or wheels for them to move along, and yet they were just… there.

Fearfully, he looked behind him to confirm what he was dreading: there were tables blocking the way he’d just come, appearing just as silently as every other table, and completely trapping him against the edge of the ball pit.

There weren’t just cakes now, either. Each table had its own buffet spread, cakes and cookies, things he didn’t know the name of; there was even a chocolate fountain or two. Dave did not feel hungry anymore- far from it. But there was no denying that it all looked amazing.

He glanced again at the ball pit, realizing that he had a choice to make now. He was certain the ball pit would take him somewhere else, somewhere that might be even more terrifying than this place had been. But he was also certain that if he took even one bite of the food around him, he wouldn’t ever stop.

He imagined, for a moment, the feeling of familiar hands running through his hair, the bustling sounds of kitchen activity, of gentle touches that took his worries away.

Dave looked back and forth between the ball pit and the buffet once more, took a deep breath…

And jumped into the pit.

Chapter Text

Gadget Gabe scurried about the lab, checking over the dials and switches on the control panel repeatedly. Occasionally, he’d scurry over to make adjustments on Rupert’s “experiment suit”, which was just his other set of clothes with various devices clipped on to check his vitals- a heart monitor, a blood pressure reader, a step counter, and other little things he didn’t know the purpose of. Rupert kept his eyes locked on the gross little man as he ran back and forth, refusing to take his eyes off him for even a second, but the movement was giving him a migraine.

Needless to say, he was nearing the end of his rope; had been for hours. Gadget Gabe’s “examinations” had lasted well into the night, and there were points when Rupert had to fight tooth and nail against the “extra thorough” ones. It finally came to a head when Gadget Gabe decided he had enough to work with (or when he got tired of dodging punches, Rupert didn’t know or care), and they could call it a night. Even then, Rupert had slept with one eye open, just in case the little creep decided to poke and prod something that he didn’t want poked and prodded.

And now here they both were, in Gadget Gabe’s lab, waiting for the final pieces to fall into place so that the way into the Backrooms could get opened already. It was miraculous, really, that the end of Rupert’s rope seemed to be getting stretched further and further without snapping.

“At last,” Gadget Gabe breathed after way too long, “everything is in place!”

“About bloody time,” Rupert grumbled, crossing his arms. “This took forever!”

“Patience, patience,” Gadget Gabe chastised, “this is all to ensure the best results.”

“ And to save Dave, yeah?”

Gadget Gabe waved him off, plopping into his chair and wrapping a greasy hand around one of the bigger switches. “Brace yourself, Rupert Price,” he said, “Gadget Gabe is going to show you something incredible-”

“Hurry up!”

“ HuRrY uP!” He mimicked, then threw the switch.

Rupert was about to roll his eyes- as if this wanker had any right to put up a fuss!- but before he could, there was a resounding, thunderous ga-dunk that seemed to shake the whole room, possibly even the whole lighthouse. Fans whirred in high hums inside the control panel, working overtime to keep the delicate electronics cool, and through the window, Rupert could see the strange machines shifting, slowly aiming at a single spot in the middle of the room, above the rounded dias.

Everything stilled, just for a second, before there was a blinding flash of light that Rupert could see even with his eyes shut tightly.

Ears ringing, he slowly peered through the window, and saw…

“It worked!” Gadget Gabe shrieked, “it worked! It worked! Gadget Gabe is a genius! The doorway is open once more!”

…Well, Rupert thought, the name’s appropriate, I suppose, though rather uncreative. For all the hype Gadget Gabe had tried to instill in him, the doorway to the Backrooms seemed… surprisingly ordinary.

It looked like a rectangular hole, about the size of a typical household doorway, minus the door and the frame. Nothing seemed to be holding it upright, and beyond that was a very different looking room.

Before he could lean forward for a closer look, Gadget Gabe shoved something into his arms. It was his backpack, though when he opened it, he found things that hadn’t been in there before: namely duct tape, a permanent marker, plastic sandwich bags, tiny vials with cork stoppers, and a weird contraption with four green buttons and one big red button in the center. “What’s this, then?” He asked, pulling the device out.

Gadget Gabe slapped his hand like a teacher scolding a student. Rupert dropped it, gritting his teeth at the grease stain the little freak left on his skin. “It is Gadget Gabe’s latest edition of the Teleporter!” He raved. “It is very delicate, but very powerful! The correct button presses will let you go anywhere in our world you wish, and even beyond!”

Rupert hummed curiously, appraising the device again with a little more respect. It made sense; if the doorway closed behind him, then a teleporter would be useful for getting out of the Backrooms quickly, preferably with Dave. But…

“How does it work?”

“Follow your heart,” Gadget Gabe said with a shrug. “It usually works out. Usually. Just remember to press the red button last.”

“...Ah.”

Rupert squinted at the device again. He’d never heard a worse piece of advice when it came to technology; even his mum had had a better answer for getting machines to work: smacking it until it did something. “Follow his heart”. Yeah, right. Rupert zipped his bag back up, and with a shooing motion from Gadget Gabe, entered the other side of the lab and approached the doorway.

It turned out that the pictures on the internet weren’t that far off. The Backrooms reminded Rupert of a motel he stayed at once when he was a kid, old and worn and yellow. Through this side of the doorway, every room he could see was completely bare, and if he angled his head this way or that, he could see that some rooms and hallways were shrouded in shadow. Without taking his eyes off the doorway, Rupert clicked on the walkie talkie that Gadget Gabe had given him. “Price to GG, do you copy? Over.”

The walkie talkie crackled to life almost as soon as he released the button. “Gadget Gabe hears you, yes he does.”

“Roger that, GG,” Rupert said, steeling himself internally. “I’m going in-”

“Wait, wait!”

He sighed tiredly. “What? Over.”

“The baseline, the baseline!” Gadget Gabe fretted. “The baseline must be established!”

Rupert squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “And how do we do that? Over.”

He could practically hear the little man scrabbling through different notebooks and papers over the walkie talkie. “Follow Gadget Gabe’s instructions: enter the doorway for thirty seconds, then step back out. This will help indicate immediate effects.”

“Fine. Over,” Rupert replied, and after the briefest pause, stepped past the threshold.

Instantly, he was hit with a wave of mildew and stale air, the scent making him wrinkle his nose and grimace. Overhead, dull yellow lights flickered and buzzed rhythmically. It was hard to tell from this one spot, but Rupert got a sense that each light flickered and buzzed in the exact same pattern. After about thirty seconds, Rupert stepped backwards into the lab. He took a sharp breath; while the lab smelled unpleasantly of metal and dirty laundry, he felt strangely relieved to be back, as if he’d been trapped in a tiny box in those same thirty seconds, despite the complete emptiness of the Backrooms.

Rupert glanced behind him through the wide window that led to Gadget Gabe’s side of the lab. He was smiling and muttering inaudibly to himself as his hands flew across his notebooks and the control panel; jotting down whatever Rupert’s vital monitors had recorded. “Gadget Gabe now instructs you to enter again, but this time, observe the doorway from all sides.”

Rupert frowned. “You want me to walk around it? Over.”

“Yes, yes,” Gadget Gabe said impatiently. “Quickly now!”

He rolled his eyes and entered again, coughing once or twice in an attempt to clear the gross scent from the back of his throat. He turned around and looked back at the doorway, which still looked like a big rectangle standing by itself in thin air. As he began to walk to the right, the doorway narrowed, matching his perspective, but then he walked a little further.

“W-what the hell?” The door had disappeared completely, with nowhere near the pomp and circumstance it had appeared in. Rupert found himself staring down a long, long hallway, with rooms and corners and shadows as far as the eye could see. Alone. Trapped.

He scrambled back the few steps he’d taken and heaved a sigh of relief; the door reappeared as silently as it had disappeared. He swallowed heavily and turned the walkie talkie back on. “Oi, you didn’t say anything about the door disappearing,” he growled.

“It disappeared?” Gadget Gabe sounded genuinely surprised. “How so? Describe it!”

“Um,” Rupert’s brain felt slow and thick. “I was walking around it, like you said, but when I saw it from the side, I couldn’t see it anymore.”

There was a pause before Gadget Gabe spoke again, “it does this from all sides?”

“I guess? It’s perfectly visible now.”

“Check from all sides,” the man insisted, “check them now!”

“Don’t get your knackers in a twist,” Rupert grumbled before eyeing the doorway uneasily. Just a quick runaround. Nothing to be afraid of. Not that he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid.

Rupert circled the doorway as quickly as he could without running, feeling an aching relief when the door was visible again. He nearly forgot to check in before Gadget Gabe could barrage him for details. “Yeah. Yeah, it… it disappears from every angle except when I look at it head on.”

Gadget Gabe cackled over the walkie talkie. “Something visible from only one angle; a physical representation of the first dimension! Such a thing must have terrified your inexperienced mind.”

“I wasn’t terrified,” Rupert snapped sharply.

Another cackle. “Your vitals say otherwise, Rupert Price.”

Rupert felt his face heat up. “Are we done? I want to look for Dave now.”

Gadget Gabe sighed, though it sounded more like a whine. “Fine, the search may begin. However, you must be able to find your way back. Use the gadgets Gadget Gabe has provided.”

Rupert reached into his backpack and pulled out the duct tape and the permanent marker. He was pretty damn sure Gadget Gabe had not invented either of these “gadgets”, but now wasn’t the time for that. Dave was here, somewhere; he had to focus on looking for him. He ripped off a hunk of tape and slapped it onto the ground in front of the doorway, then drew an arrow pointing towards it on the shiny gray surface. When he came to a branching hallway, he set down another piece of tape before continuing straight on.

It became a rhythm; pausing every so often to set down some tape and mark it with a little arrow. Everything felt like a rhythm in here. Just as he’d suspected, the lights overhead flickered and buzzed in the exact same pattern for each light. The barely muffled sounds of his boots on the carpet seemed to sync with his heartbeat, steady and dull. The carpet was mostly flat, hardly even a carpet, though the edges near the walls seemed to have just a touch more cushiness to them. How many people had walked on this carpet? How many times had someone ended up in this place, surrounded by nothing but bad lighting and moldy air and yellow, yellow, yellow?

Rupert set down another piece of tape and rose to his feet, only to stop short. He clicked on the walkie-talkie. “GG, this is Price, do you copy? Over.”

“What is it?”

“I found something,” he said, leaning onto his toes to squint at it from afar. “I think it’s a… kitten? Or some kind of animal? Anyway, I’m approaching for a closer look.”

Without waiting for a response, Rupert took carefully placed steps towards the fuzzy black creature in front of him. It really did look like a kitten, at least from a few feet away, but when he knelt to get a closer look, he realized it was just a very large patch of mold. He grimaced again; it smelled tangy, bitter, and metallic all at once, and it looked like a few bits of mold were growing in short streaks on the carpet nearby.

He shook his head and got back to his feet. “False alarm,” he announced into the walkie talkie. “It’s just some mold that looks like a kitten.”

Gadget Gabe didn’t respond for a moment, though Rupert could hear him muttering distantly through the static. The tone of his voice was different from before; surprised, but almost knowing.

Rupert tapped the button again. “GG, do you copy? Over.”

“Yes, yes, Gadget Gabe heard you!” he snapped, much more quickly this time. “Take a sample, immediately!”

“Okay, okay; cripes.” Rupert reached back into his backpack to pull out a plastic bag and a pair of tweezers, then knelt back down. Unsure of where to start, he jabbed the tweezers directly into the center of the thing and pulled away. He gagged as the mold stretched away from the source, multiplying the awful stench by a hundred fold before it slid apart like stiff gelatin. He shoved the sample into the bag and stood, backing away quickly. “Sample collected, over. God, that rubbish smells right horrid!”

“Excellent,” Gadget Gabe crooned, either unaware of or ignoring Rupert’s displeasure. “Continue further into the Backrooms, and collect any more samples of this mold you come across-”

“Wait a tick,” Rupert interrupted. “I think I hear something.”

“What do you hear-”

“Shut up, I’m listening!”

It was hard to hear over the sound of Gadget Gabe grumbling: a strange, quiet sound that he couldn’t quite recognize until he felt a warm, humid brush of air along the back of his neck. He marked the ground once more before rounding a corner. “GG, this is Price. I found a different room; there’s water here, and tiles.”

The new room wasn’t very big, but it was clean and muggy with humidity. Tiny white tiles lined every available surface, and a small set of stairs led into a shallow passage of water. The rippling water caused sparkling reflections to dance on the walls, and under the fluorescent lights, Rupert could see some small puddles of water nearby.

“Take a sample!” Gadget Gabe demanded. “Take a sample right now!”

Rupert did so with a small glass vial, nearly slipping with how wet the floor was. The little waves formed in this pool must have been stronger earlier to have reached so far. Wait a minute…

“GG, this is Price. Waves are caused by gravity, right? From the Earth and moon?”

“Yes, and?” Gadget Gabe grunted.

“If this is a pocket dimension, separate from our world, then why are there waves?”

“Gadget Gabe doesn’t know,” the man snapped over the line. “Something must have moved through the water recently to cause the waves.”

Rupert’s eyes widened. “Dave,” he whispered. There was no way of telling, but that had to be it. Dave had been through here, recently. “GG, this is Price; I’m going in, over.” He lifted his foot to take the first step.

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” Gadget Gabe screeched on the walkie talkie.

Rupert growled and pressed the button again. “What?! What is it this time?!”

“You can’t just go in the water! You’ll ruin Gadget Gabe’s gadgets!”

Rupert glanced at himself briefly. He did have a number of small electronics clipped to his clothes here and there, but they were all from the waist up. The water only looked to go up to his knees. “The water’s shallow here,” he said into the walkie talkie. “I’ll move slowly and won’t slip. Dave’s been through here, I know it. I have to go after him!”

There was a series of incomprehensible whines and groans on the other end before Gadget Gabe finally spoke again. “If you must; but Gadget Gabe will be very cross if you ruin Gadget Gabe’s gadgets!”

“Right, right,” Rupert grumbled before rolling up the cuffs of his pants. His boots and socks would be completely soaked, but there were far worse problems he could be dealing with.

He went down the steps slowly, bracing his hand against the wall when his steps grew a little precarious until he was finally in the water. He looked to the left and right; the path became brighter if he went to his left, and darker if he went to his right. Carrying both a torch and his walkie-talkie could throw off his balance, so if he didn’t want to get his vital monitors wet, then left was the way to go.

Rupert took a slow breath in and out of his mouth. There didn’t seem to be any turns up ahead, but he couldn’t quite see the end of the passage, either; it would be a very long, straight and narrow walk.

But it would lead somewhere. To Dave. It had to. Hold on, Dave, he thought as he began to wade through the passage. I’m going to come find you.

Chapter Text

Charles Calvin offered side salutes to everyone he passed in the hallway as he made a direct beeline for the dormitories. When he finally reached the room he was looking for, he lifted a hand to knock… then paused.

He knew Rupert needed his time and space, given everything that happened to him less than a week ago, but he also really wanted to help him right now. Charles hated feeling like he was sitting around doing nothing, especially when he knew someone needed help, but he had kept telling himself that everyone was different and that Rupert would seek him out when he was ready. The only problem was, that hadn't happened.

It had been a few days, and Charles hadn't seen Rupert once since he'd shown him his special spot on the hill. Not at the cafeteria, not in the hallways; not even in PT, which Rupert never missed. The General could be generous with breaks and vacations, but not that generous. There was a schedule to follow, things to be done, so if Rupert hadn't come back to work yet, then, well… it was reasonable for him to be worried, right? That's what friends were for!

Nodding to himself in affirmation, Charles brought his fist down on the wood… Only to startle when the impact sent the door wide open into Rupert Price's empty dorm room.

Leaving your dorm unlocked was a huge no-no, and Rupert was definitely not the sort of person to leave his room unlocked for any reason, let alone half open. Charles leaned into the room to peer around, keeping his feet planted firmly outside of the doorway so he wasn't crossing any boundaries.

At first glance, the room looked fine: the bed was made and there was hardly any trash in the trash can, but then something occurred to Charles: the room was neat, but it wasn't Rupert Price-level neat. Rupert folded every towel, sheet, and anything else he could fold into corners so sharp they looked like they could cut; he'd seen it a few times before. The pillow had obvious wrinkles from being used, and the top blanket was skewed completely, higher on one side of the bed than the other. The fact that there was trash in his can was strange, too, with how little time he spent in here.

Charles stepped inside, peering first behind the door to see if Rupert had gotten stuck back there somehow. Then he checked under the bed; still nothing. He glanced towards the trash can as he stood up and noticed what looked like a business card with a message scribbled on it. Forgetting for a moment that it was weird to pick through someone else's trash, Charles picked up the card to read the note:

GADGET GABE CAN FIND YOUR FRIEND.

Confusion flickered across Charles' face, then shock, then worry. He flipped the card over and saw a phone number he didn't recognize, then flipped again to the note. He had no idea who or what Gadget Gabe was, but this note… if it was about what he thought it was about…

Charles closed the door behind him and set off towards the cafeteria. There were two other people who knew about Rupert's situation, and while he didn't want to think they'd do something like this… well, the Bukowski Twins were called troublemakers for a reason.

*

"Who's Gadget Gabe?" Calvin Bukowski asked.

"Dunno," Konrad Bukowski replied before handing a slip of paper to Charles.

Charles took the papers he'd collected from the twins and compared them to the business card. He sighed in relief; neither of them had the same handwriting as the note.

"Shady Sea Town…" Calvin mused. "I swear I've heard of that place before."

"Oh, I remember." Konrad took the card from Charles and pointed at the phone number. "It's that crappy beach town we looked up that one time, remember? Because of the area code."

"Oh yeah!" Calvin exclaimed. "How could I forget about Weed City?"

Charles peered over his shoulder to look; the area code was 420.

"Blaze it," Konrad said seriously. Calvin nodded sagely along with him.

Charles had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he had other things to worry about. "Why did he have this?" He muttered to himself. "Who gave it to him? Who else knew he'd lost someone? Where is he?"

The twins turned to him slowly, giving him matching odd looks. "You know he's on vacation, right?" Calvin said.

"Yeah, Galeforce approved it himself, too," Konrad replied. "Didn't think he'd have to do that anymore, as a general. I heard Price was headed for the beach."

That was concerning for a lot of reasons. First of all, that contradicted what Rupert had told him at his spot on the hill, but more than that… In the time he'd known him, Rupert had never once taken a vacation, or a break of any kind, for that matter. The fact that he'd also forgotten about the general's promotion, despite being part of the mission that had gotten the general that very promotion…

"Why're you so worried about Price again?" Calvin asked.

Charles bit his lip. "I found this note in his room-"

Konrad raised his eyebrows. "And what were you doing, breaking into someone's room?" Calvin's mouth dropped open dramatically.

"W-what?" Charles' face flushed to match his headphones. "No, no; he left his door open!"

The twins were silent for a moment. "Are you sure?" Calvin finally asked. Charles nodded.

"Are we talking about the same Price?" Konrad added.

"He's always getting on our backs about not locking up!" Calvin huffed. "The hypocrisy! The betrayal!"

"The horror!" Konrad put the back of his hand to his forehead. "It's the end of all things!"

Charles pressed his mouth into a firm line. He could believe that Rupert's recent loss had been enough to make him take a break from work, but to leave so haphazardly? Something wasn't adding up, and it was leaving him with a sinking feeling in his stomach, like he'd turned off the engine of his helicopter and it was about to plummet.

"...vin? Calvin? Hello?" Calvin knocked on Charles' shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Are you good, man?" Konrad asked. "You don't look so hot."

Charles flashed them a grin, though it was more of a toothy grimace. "Uh, yep! Everything's fine! Totally hot- er, cool- uh…" he waved at them as he made his way back to the hallway. "Just uh- just gotta check on something real quick! Nothing wrong! Probably! …I hope." Without waiting for a response, Charles turned the corner and hurried down the hall of the military base.

*

Charles knocked on General Galeforce's door three times, his fingertips buzzing with nerves. He still felt like a helicopter about to drop to earth, but he wouldn't let the feeling consume him just yet. Remaining rational was important, especially if Rupert was feeling particularly… irrational.

The door opened just a crack, enough for Galeforce to peek his head out and see Charles. "Charlie? Do you need something?"

Charles saluted politely. "Sorry to bother you, General, but uh... could I come in real quick? I just have something I wanted to ask."

The general raised an eyebrow, looking down at him silently for a moment before pulling the door open further. "You'll have to make it quick; I'm expecting a very important video call soon, so I can't take too much time away."

"Of course, sir," Charles said, flashing him a smile as he stepped into the office. "I promise it'll be really quick. Probably."

Galeforce sighed and closed the door after him, striding towards his desk before regarding Charles again. "I'd prefer something a little more certain than 'probably', but I suppose I can't pick and choose. What's troubling you, son?"

Charles took a deep breath, glancing quickly around the office. True to Galeforce's word, a laptop was propped open on his desk, whirring quietly against the wood surface. "Sir... is it true that Rupert Price asked you to sign off for his vacation?"

Galeforce blinked, clearly not expecting that line of questioning. "It is," he said slowly. "Admittedly, he should have gone to Alabaster or Canterbury for that, but I had some spare time on my hands to do it when Price asked to go to the coast. Given how stressed he's been lately, I could hardly refuse. Why do you ask?"

The feeling in Charles' stomach grew worse. "That's just it, sir! Price has never taken a vacation for any reason, and he was just telling me the other day that he hates the beach!"

The general quirked a brow. "He hates the beach?"

"He told me he didn't have a lot of good memories there. The sand bothers him a lot, too."

Galeforce hummed non committedly. "Price informed me he was visiting family; that doesn't necessarily mean he's going to spend time on the shoreline."

Charles cocked his head. "Isn't he from England, though?"

"Charlie, why exactly are you so invested in Price's private business, if you don't mind me asking?" The tone of the general's voice indicated that even if Charles did mind, he was still expected to answer.

Charles stood straighter. "I'm asking because a lot of things aren't making sense. I went to check on Price in his dorm since I hadn't heard about his vacation until now, but the room was unlocked!" He reached into his pocket and presented the business card to Galeforce. "Rupert also had this in his trash can. Look at the note."

Galeforce's eyes flicked over the shoddily written message. Then he flipped the card around. "Gadget Gabe...?" He muttered under his breath.

"Sir," Charles said, trying not to bounce on his heels nervously. "I think someone played a trick on Price. I'm worried that he's going to get hurt."

Galeforce frowned, running his thumb along the uneven edge of the card thoughtfully. "I see what you're trying to say," he said slowly, "but Price left nearly two days ago, and won't be back until next week. He's likely already arrived at Shady Sea Town by now."

"But sir," Charles protested. "What if he's in danger? What if this 'Gadget Gabe' is-"

"Gadget Gabe…?"

Charles and Galeforce snapped their heads towards the desk, where a woman's voice had just sounded from the laptop speaker. Charles couldn't see who had spoken, but she had a soft, deeper voice with a bit of an accent. "...Do you know who he is?" He blurted.

"Charlie," the general scolded. "Dr. Vinschpinsilstein is a very busy woman who has been very patient waiting for us to stop talking. She and I have business to discuss, so I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"Business can wait," the woman, Dr. Vinschpinsilstein, interrupted. There was a hint of strain to her voice, though Charles wasn't sure if it was because of the aforementioned busy schedule or the topic of Gadget Gabe.

Feeling a bit awkward for accidentally shunting the General's video call to the side, Charles asked, "Do you know Gadget Gabe? What kind of person is he?"

A rough noise sounded on the speaker, and it took Charles a moment to realize it was a growl. "That man..." Dr. Vinschpinsilstein muttered. "Is narcissist, da? No regard for others. Steals designs, cannot make them work. No redeeming qualities; disgusting man. Stole my Babushkat, am positive."

"Babushkat?" Charles muttered, then shook that thought away. "Do you know where he is?"

"Lighthouse in Shady Sea Town, USA. Uses, ah... 'squatter's rights', da?"

The tension and nervous energy that Charles had been desperately trying to reign in snapped like a rubber band, and he began pacing in tight circles around the office. "That's where Rupert went! This guy probably tricked Rupert into meeting him alone; he must be in trouble-!"

Galeforce clapped his hands onto Charles' shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing. "Calm down, Charles. This is not the time to lose your head. If all of this is really true, then you need to be able to focus, alright?"

Charles nodded rapidly. "Yessir. Gotta calm down. Cool as a cucumber."

"Good man." The general patted him once with both hands before loosening his grip. "I'll sign you off for a search mission, if you complete the paperwork and go with at least two people. I won't make the same mistake I made with Price. Everything must be checked and accounted for. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll come back as soon as I can-"

Galeforce shook his head briefly. "Be thorough, not quick. And communicate often, even if it's over something minor. I want you to check in frequently so that I can keep track of where you are."

Charles nodded, expression firm as his mind raced with all of the protocols he'd need to go through to get started on Rupert's rescue mission.

The general nodded, seeming pleased with Charles' resolve. "You're dismissed. Now, if you'll excuse me, Dr. Vinschpinsilstein and I need to discuss important matters."

"Yes, sir." Then he called over the general's shoulder, towards the laptop, "thank you for the information, Doc!"

"Be careful," she replied cryptically, then went silent.

The general waved Charles towards the door as he walked back to his desk, and Charles gave a parting salute as he closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, then strode back towards the mess hall. He knew just the teammates who would best help him complete his mission.

Chapter Text

At some point, the water had become shallow enough that it only went up to Rupert's ankles, but aside from that, absolutely nothing of note had happened for what felt like hours. It made him feel frustrated, tense, and impatient. The texture of the tiles under his fingertips as he walked along the narrow hallway made his hand feel numb, and the monotony of wading through the shallows in almost total silence nearly caused him to nod off once or twice.

Gadget Gabe had been checking in on him every so often, but it was evident that he was also displeased with Rupert's lack of progress. He couldn't be sure, but he was pretty sure Gadget Gabe was napping on the other side of the walkie-talkie. Honestly, could he blame the little freak? His own lack of sleep was working against him, hence why he'd braced his hand against the wall for so long. If he slipped and fell in the water, Gadget Gabe would throw a massive tantrum, and frankly, Rupert couldn't bear the thought.

He was about to give up- there was clearly nothing here, and surely Dave would have gone back way before now- but just as he was about to make the call, he stopped to brace himself more firmly against the wall.  He glanced down and noticed that the water was actively flowing. It streamed quickly in the direction that he'd been going... which didn't make sense. Wouldn't shallow water mean he was going up an incline, and thus make the water flow the opposite way? Rupert had no idea, but it was something different, which was enough to convince him to contact Gadget Gabe again.

"GG, this is Price, do you copy? Over."

There was a long pause. Rupert made to press the button again when the device made a series of staticky noises, followed by some crunchy yawning and snorting. "This is Gadget Gabe, yes. What is it?"

"Minor development: the water seems to be flowing in the direction I'm headed. It's fast, but not too fast. I think there might be something close by. Will keep you posted, over."

Gadget Gabe hummed tiredly. "Carry on, but you'd better hope that you're right; Gadget Gabe is getting tired of waiting."

"You and me both," Rupert muttered. Just before he could return to his normal speed (he'd slowed down to concentrate on balancing while talking), he stopped short. The path in front of him... it was distant, but he was certain that the endless hallway finally ended just a couple meters ahead. And if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, there was something much bigger through that exit.

He hurried a little faster, trying his best to keep his balance; even the water seemed excited for a change of scenery, and was streaming even faster towards the end.

"Bloody hell…" Rupert wasn't sure what he was looking at; it was just so bizarre. It seemed that the hallway he'd been walking through was a suspended waterway of some kind. The hall stopped short in the middle of the air, letting a thin waterfall stream into a much larger pool below. Every surface was still covered in those same white tiles, but strange structures seemed to be dotted all over the place: platforms, stairs (some of which were upside down), and… was that a bloody water slide?

The sight was incredible... but it was also incredibly pointless.

He groaned and turned on the walkie talkie. "GG, this is Price. The hallway opens up into this big space, but the only way I can keep going this way is if I jump off a ledge and into a body of water that is definitely too deep to walk in. I can't keep going. I have to turn back."

The sound that the walkie talkie emitted in the wake of this information was a perfect description of what Rupert was feeling: a strained groan that bordered on screaming, interspersed with grumbled swears that Rupert couldn't identify, nor did he care to. If he could be making that same noise, he would. All of that walking- nearly three hours based on his last check in with Gadget Gabe, plus however long he'd been going after that- all for nothing! He couldn't imagine Dave throwing caution to the wind and taking a leap of faith into a seemingly bottomless pool. In fact, with Rupert's luck, Dave had probably never even come this way. Or if he did, he'd turned around and gone to the right of the stairs instead of the left, meaning Rupert just wasted valuable time over nothing. It was infuriating.

Without waiting for a response from Gadget Gabe, Rupert turned around to begin trudging back to square one. He was exhausted. The combination of poor sleep, hours of nothing, and the struggle of walking through water of various depths was making his footsteps unsteady. The third time he almost slipped, he realized something.

"GG, this is Price. I... think the water is moving faster."

"...What?"

"The water” Rupert repeated, “it’s moving faster." In fact, he could almost feel the current of the stream pushing him back towards the waterfall, especially when he stopped moving. "I think something's changed."

"Hmm," Gadget Gabe said boredly. "Is it the Backrooms that have changed, or is it you that has changed?"

Rupert blinked several times. "...Excuse me?"

"You've been traveling in the same direction for four hours now," he explained. "It's possible that your mind is tricking you into thinking that the water is going faster than before. Human brains often create their own means of entertainment, in the event that they're under-stimulated."

Rupert felt his brow twitch. "Are you calling me crazy?"

"You said it, Gadget Gabe did not."

He grit his teeth. "I'm not going crazy!" He snapped, squeezing the walkie talkie hard enough to make the plastic creak. "The water's moving faster; I'm not- WHOA!"

His foot slipped out from under him and he landed in the water, just barely turning his head in time to avoid breaking his nose. The walkie talkie made a watery, gravelly noise, the speaker dripping with water. Rupert cursed and pressed the button again. "GG, this is Price, do you read me? Price to GG, do you copy?"

Somewhere in the thick layer of wet static, Rupert could hear Gadget Gabe swearing up and down again, none of it comprehensible through the ruined walkie talkie. Rupert growled and tried to climb back to his feet, but each attempt was pointless. The water was actively pushing him away. In fact-

Rupert startled when he realized that that wasn't an exaggeration: the water was moving so fast now that despite its shallow current, it was strong enough to drag his whole body across the floor... and straight towards the drop he'd been trying to walk away from.

Scrambling for purchase, Rupert managed to turn his body sideways and brace himself with his arms and feet on either side of the hall, slowing down his movements significantly but subsequently presenting a new problem: since he was putting all of his strength into not moving, he couldn’t even begin to crawl back the way he came, let alone the literal four hours it had taken for him to get to this point. And without his walkie-talkie, he had no way of connecting with the real world.

He was trapped.

Rupert yelled at the floor in frustration. Of course; just his luck that he'd manage to get so close to saving Dave, only for blood gravity to join in on the universe's scheme to make him a failure.

How could things possibly get even worse?

A low rushing sound drew Rupert's attention to his right, away from the waterfall, where he saw something completely inexplicable: something was rushing towards him at an increasing speed, getting louder as it approached. It was like a wall was barreling towards him, or a-

A wave of water.

Rupert had just enough time to shout, "What the-?!" before the wave crashed right into him, knocking him loose from his power grip and sending him flailing past the ledge and down into the pool below. He tried to swim up as soon as he hit the water, but the weight of the torrent splashing from above was forcing him to sink like a stone. He struggled to swim away, but the waterfall was like a weight, pushing him down and only down. He didn't have enough oxygen to keep fighting.

His vision faded to black, but as it did, Rupert could have sworn that large shadows were swimming in the dark water around him. Circling and circling and circling, like sharks did with their prey.

Chapter Text

Dave wasn't even sure if he was still sinking at this point. The plastic balls in the pit slid up and around him in a way that seemed to suggest that he was still sinking, but there was no way that a ball pit was this deep. Then again, there was no way that cakes and balloons could possibly chase him throughout an enormous playhouse either, and yet that was exactly what had led to him being here in the first place. Dave's stomach twisted. Anything was possible in this strange place; it was even entirely possible that this ball pit just went down forever and ever.

Desperately, Dave flailed around, hoping that he could figure out some way to crawl back out of the pit. Mystery cakes chasing him be damned, he needed to get out-

His hand burst free of the plastic balls, hooking onto a ledge just above him. He kicked his legs beneath him as he reached to grab the ledge with his other hand, pulling himself out of the ball pit with surprising ease. In fact, he'd used more strength than he needed, and accidentally launched himself onto the floor by the pit in a heap. He lay there for a moment, taking deep breaths of air that didn't stink of plastic and sweat and preparing himself to face the temptation of cake once again. The air had an odd, salty smell to it now, like a mix of fast food and cash that was familiar in a way that Dave couldn't quite place, and the floor was hard and cool against his cheek.

Dave peeked his eyes open, only to sit up in shock. The room he'd been in before was gone, replaced with shiny marble tiles and high, arching ceilings covered in industrial lights. Glass windows and open doorways lined the walls around him, which formed a hallway that stretched off in one direction before it seemed to split into several other directions. He looked back at the ball pit and saw that it was more like a kiddie pool full of plastic balls, maybe no more than two feet deep. How had he been sinking for so long?

Dave slowly got to his feet, looking around at the many windows and doors in the hall. They looked a bit like shops, some with awnings or hanging displays where a logo might have been, though none of these stores appeared to have names. Peeking through the nearest window, he could see shelves of colorful goods lined up from the floor to the ceiling.

...Was he inside a shopping mall?

He was pretty sure he’d only gone to one once in his whole life, when he was still searching for work after the layoffs at West Mesa. As interesting as the concept was, Dave quickly realized he was not built for customer service (apparently bursting into tears when a customer raised their voice at a cashier on the opposite side of the store was not particularly impressive to potential employers).

Something didn’t make sense here. The hallways he’d wandered through when he started were empty and old, with no discernable details to provide a sense of direction. The tiled hallway with the water had a direction, but still had that empty, unsettling feeling to it. Even that room with the cake, as colorful as it was, was empty and unsettling, less like a real room and more like a place he might see in a dream. This mall was empty of people, but it felt so much more lively than everything beforehand. The floors were polished but with the occasional skidmark or patch of stickiness, like someone had spilled a drink and it hadn’t been cleaned properly yet. The stores looked well kept, and there were benches and tables scattered around the center of the hall, ready for anyone who might need a brief rest. There were even potted plants scattered around for decoration, he was pretty sure that he could hear a fountain somewhere in the distance. The only thing it was missing was-

He spotted it out of the corner of his eye: a terminal, standing a dozen yards away. It was lit up and displaying a number of shapes that seemed to form some sort of pattern. Maybe a map?

Dave stumbled over to the terminal and tapped the screen with his hand eagerly. It was warm and buzzy under his touch, and the map zoomed out to display the full thing at a distance. The mall seemed to be shaped a bit like a compass, or the spokes of a wheel; numerous hallways stretched out from a central point, each one lined with a variety of symbols that probably represented what sort of shops they had. A bright red dot sat firmly at the end of one of the hallways with a tiny little arrow pointing to it. If that wasn't a "you are here" marker, Dave would eat what was left of his hat.

He searched for an exit symbol, scanning the edges of the map inch by inch until he spotted an image of a stick figure leaving through a doorway. It was at the end of another hallway; all he had to do was walk to the middle, then walk back out again. Could this really be the end? The thought almost made him lightheaded with relief.

 Nodding eagerly, Dave hurried down the hall, nearly tripping a few times in his eagerness to be quick. He made a beeline for the center of the mall.

...Or rather, that's what he'd intended to do.

Despite his eagerness to get out, Dave had to admit that whoever had designed the displays inside the shops knew exactly how to draw the eye. He found himself idling by each window, peering inside to see what lay within. The shops came in a variety of styles, some with wood floorboards and pastel wall paints while others had glass fridges lined up in miniature aisles like a grocery store. There was also an almost tangible warmth to each shop, like they were all heated, giving off a cozy and inviting feeling that made Dave dawdle for solid periods of time before he managed to shake himself out of the haze and keep going.

By the time he reached the central point of the mall, his legs were even more sore than he thought possible. He gasped for breath as he reevaluated his surroundings. The hallway merged into a round balcony that overlooked a large fountain in the very center. When Dave leaned against the metal barrier to peer into the water, he could see numerous coins shimmering at the bottom of the fountain, as well as a few other glimmering objects that he couldn't identify from up here. There appeared to be more hallways on the same floor as the fountain, though Dave couldn't see any stairs that would lead down below.

He spotted another terminal nearby and tapped the screen with his hand. Much to his relief, the map at this terminal was the same as the previous one, and the exit symbol was still at the end of the same hallway it had been at previously. The way out was just a straight shot away.

He turned around and began to stumble down the hall with the exit. Each step hurt to take, dragging Dave's pace to a crawl. He tried to sit on a bench to rest, but the thing was impossibly hard and uncomfortable, hurting almost as much as walking did, so he kept trekking.

Dave bumped his head against a window, wincing at the impact and peering into the store it was attached to. It appeared to be a clothing store, though there didn't seem to be a particular theme or main selling item. There were racks and racks of shirts, dresses, pants, suits, swimwear, and other clothing items he couldn't identify from out here. There were also shelves of shoes in the store, a sight that suddenly struck Dave with an idea: shoe stores had benches to sit on while people tried on the wares, right? Maybe not the most comfortable ones in the world, but definitely better than what was out here.

It would just be for a minute, he promised himself; just until he could gather the last bit of strength he needed to reach the end of his journey.

The door chimed as he pushed it inward and was instantly hit with cozy, warm air, as well as the smell of fresh clothes and new shoes. He took a deep breath in through his nose and sighed contentedly, taking another step inside.

He jumped when a tone started to play above him, and he looked to the ceiling to see little speakers dotted around here and there. It took him a second to realize that the tone he was hearing was music; a catchy elevator jingle that was repetitive but cozy. Considering the absolute silence he'd been experiencing up to this point, the sound of any music at all made him feel much more cheerful already.

He stepped further into the store, peering around the racks of clothes in the hopes that he'd spot a bench to rest on, though so far, there was no luck. Were the benches kept in the back of the store? He crept further and further through the racks, pausing after a bit when a particularly colorful piece caught his eye.

It was a deep green dress made of velvet, with some sparkly bits here and there. Dave tentatively reached to touch the dress and pinch the fabric between his fingers. It was thick, high quality material, and he had to admit that it looked beautiful.

Growing curious, he shifted the dress to the side, revealing an elegant dress shirt that shimmered like silk. Golden threads were woven into the sleeves in random patterns; they felt scratchy and a bit itchy under his fingers. He started sifting through the rack, admiring each piece on its hanger before moving onto another one. The seemingly random combinations of textures made him shiver oddly, unsure if the sensation was pleasant or unpleasant.

Dave had never really cared what he wore, but he'd been wearing the exact same uniform for who knew how many months now. It would be good for him to change into something nice and clean… once he could settle on what to wear.

He pushed piece after piece to the side, the ever expanding choices incredible but quickly becoming overwhelming. In fact, there seemed to be infinite options, and he felt an odd twist in his stomach at the thought.

It occurred to Dave that even if he finally came to a decision, there was no one to sell him the clothes, nor did he have any money to pay with. Taking the clothing without paying was out of the question; what if alarms started going off, or what if the clothes came to life to bury him and he suffocated to death, like he nearly had earlier?

Making a strangled sound, Dave pulled himself out of the rack of clothes, leaning against the wall behind him and setting his hand over his heaving chest. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind and catch his breath.

When he’d calmed down, he looked up and was stunned to see none of the clothes he’d been sifting through. Not on the rack, not on the floor; in fact, the clothing rack wasn’t even that big, only long enough to fit a dozen coat hangers or so.

Dave stumbled out of the store as quickly as he could, his aching legs now joined by an oncoming migraine. He felt like he was losing his mind. He dragged himself past the remaining shops at a snail’s pace. He could see the exit from here: a series of glass doors that led out into the night, or perhaps an underground parking lot. A sign with the word EXIT written in glowing red letters hung above the glass like a beacon.

Dave nearly collapsed when he reached the exit, but he was so close. Forcing himself to take one step after another, he set his hands on the metal push bar and peered eagerly through the glass towards the sky as he pushed the door open.

Then he stopped and pressed his nose to the glass, peering around with increasing frenzy. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

There was no sky. There was no underground parking lot. There was no night.

Beyond the exit doors was a solid black void, so dark that it absorbed what light managed to escape through the glass. There was nothing outside. There was no exit. Dave breathed in shuddering gasps, fighting the scream that was crawling up his throat. He was still trapped, now more than ever. Every place he’d been seemed unending and infinite, but this mall very much wasn’t. It was big, but not that big; it was like a cage, a box, a prison, like his cell on the airship. 

"I don't want this,” he choked out. “I don't want to do this anymore. I want to see the sky, I want to be outside, I want to go home. Please, please-!"

CHOOM!

Dave gave a strangled shout and whipped his head around. It sounded like a deafening explosion, but that wasn’t what it was.

The sound he'd heard was the sound of the lights flicking off, one by one, creating a wall of darkness that was creeping closer and closer to him with every second. He scrambled to his feet and looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to go except that dark, cold void just beyond the glass. He was trapped.

"Help!" Dave shouted. "Someone help me! Please, help! Rupert! Help me!"

The darkness moved faster, booming echoes slamming into his ears like the beating of a drum, counting down the moments until his death. Dave pressed himself against the door, eyes clenched shut and bracing for death.

There was a sudden shift behind him, accompanied by the creak of metal hinges. He’d pushed the door open with his back, teetering further and further past the threshold.

"No, no, NO!" He screamed as he fell into the void. Above him, the last bit of light quickly grew smaller and smaller as he fell further and further away. There was one final CHOOM, and Dave was plunged into darkness.

Chapter Text

"Beach trip!" Calvin Bukowski cheered as Charles piloted his helicopter through the cloudy sky.

"Won't be much of a beach or a trip," Konrad pointed out, "considering this is a search and/or rescue mission in the literal worst beach town in the US."

"Aw," Calvin muttered, only to perk up again instantly. "We'll just have to find a better beach to go to next time, then! Right, Charles?"

Charles didn't reply, hardly having even heard the conversation up until this point. He was on autopilot, flicking switches and pressing buttons to keep the helicopter moving swiftly and steadily. He stared hard at the sky ahead of them, lips fixed into a small, firm frown.

"Charles?" Konrad lightly tapped his shoulder, and Charles whipped his head around to look at him. "You okay, man?"

Charles gave him a quick smile, though it was strained and unnecessarily toothy, like a wince. "Uh, yup! Just uh- Just focused on flying! Bit rough out there, you know? Gotta stay focused."

Calvin gave him a look. "You seem real worried about Price."

"Too worried," Konrad agreed, leaning forward to peer up into his eyes. "Why's he got you so stressed? What did he do?"

Charles tried to keep his "grin" up for a little longer, finally letting it slip from his face as he turned his attention back to the sky. "It's... more that I'm worried about what he might do." The twins tilted their in sync, questioningly. Charles sighed. "It's just... I don't know what the whole deal is with Gadget Gabe, or Shady Sea Town, or any of that stuff, but to be honest... When  Rupert disappeared so suddenly, I was worried he was going to do something." He lowered his gaze. "Something... unfixable."

A thick silence filled the cockpit. The twins looked at each other, as if communicating telepathically. Calvin opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again. Charles knew they wanted to help, to reassure him that Rupert would never do that. But they’d all seen how much he was spiraling that night at the bar; first hand, in the twin’s case.

"Let's not worry about that," Konrad said at last. "Thinking like that won't help anyone. We'll focus on finding Price for now... and make him spill his guts to us later."

"He'll probably organize his guts in alphabetical order." Calvin nodded along.

"Or by size."

"We could call him and ask for his organizational preferences."

"Oh please, if he didn't pick up when Charlie called him, he won't pick up for us."

"That's true." Charles stared into space, an odd look slowly spreading across his features. "...Charlie?" Calvin said after a beat. "You tried calling Price already, right?"

"Of course he did," Konrad said. "Right, Charlie?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Konrad," Charles asked with a world weary sigh, "could you do me a favor and call Rupert's number for me, please?"

The twins blinked once. Twice.

Then they nearly fell out of their seats laughing.

"H-hey, hang on a second!" Charles stammered, face flushing to match his headphones. "It's been a long week; I haven't gotten a lot of sleep-"

"Oh my God," Calvin wheezed. "You were freaking out so much you didn't even think-!"

"I was worried about Rupert, okay?!"

Konrad flew into a coughing fit. "Charles 'jump to conclusions' Calvin, ladies and gentlemen!"

Charles made a few more sounds of protest, though his lips quirked upwards without his permission. It was ridiculous; he really had just launched himself to the worst case scenario, hadn’t he? Apparently, his Greatest Plan wasn’t so great if it didn’t involve a real helicopter.

Calvin wiped a tear from his eye, holding his stomach as he shuddered with giggles. "Oh, wow. We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?"

Konrad groaned and massaged his temples. "A couple of idiots who care too darn much. Ay, me."

Charles shifted in the pilot's chair, exposing his side towards the twins. "One of you reach in here and grab my phone, okay? He'll probably answer if it's me who's calling."

"Sir, yes sir." Calvin fished the phone from Charles' jacket pocket and searched through his contacts once it was opened.

"Price probably wouldn't answer for either of us, anyway," Konrad lamented, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically. "Even after all we do for him!"

"You mean those 'pranks' you pull on him?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'pranks'? We only work with the best jokes!"

"It's the Bukowski quality guarantee!" Calvin laughed, his thumb hovering over the green call button. "Okay, I've got his number pulled up; I'm calling him now."

"Put it on speaker," Charles said, leaning back in his pilot's chair, a sense of ease and relief washing over him as Calvin pressed the button.

The phone rang once, the low tone interrupted halfway through with an unfamiliar *beep*.

"What was that?" Konrad asked.

"Uh," Calvin said, staring at the screen. "He declined the call."

"What?" Charles peered over his shoulder briefly. Rupert never declined calls. Missed them, sure; he hardly ever had the volume on, but purposefully cutting off a call before it even started? "Could you try again? Maybe his finger slipped."

"Right," Calvin said slowly, dialing the number once more. That same *beep* sounded off again, almost instantly this time.

Charles' grip tightened on the shift stick. Why was Rupert ignoring him on purpose? Was he... was he planning-?

"Well, if you think about it," Konrad said quickly, "if he's actively ignoring the calls, then he's alive! That's good, right?"

But for how much longer? Charles couldn't help but think.

"Third time's the charm," Calvin said, more to himself than anything, and pressed the button one more time.

The phone rang once for a full tone, before a much more familiar *click* sounded out and a nasally voice that very much did not belong to Rupert snapped through the speaker. “Take the hint and stop calling!”

Charles looked towards the twins, who stared back at him before looking again at the phone. "Um, hello?" he offered. "Is, uh... is Rupert available?"

Heavy breathing was the only response, sounding staticky and sticky all at once. Finally: "No. No he is not." The breathing faded like they were about to hang up.

"H-hey, wait!" Charles called out. "Are you- Gadget Gabe? By any chance?"

There was a much briefer moment of breathing. "...Who wants to know?"

Charles forced a wide grin and started speaking, keeping his voice light and bouncy. "Uh, hi! My name's Charlie, and I'm a friend of Rupert's! I uh... I'm really into science, and when I heard Rupert was going to see you, uh- I thought that was so cool! I remember hearing you from my friend, my friend, um... H-Henry...?"

There was a beat of silence. Then, "Gadget Gabe may know the Henry you speak of. An excellent patron of Gadget Gabe's. A wise friend you have made."

Konrad and Calvin looked at Charles, who shrugged but continued talking. "Uh, right! Hen-Henry's so cool and... real. Um, anyway, I'm sure you're super busy, but if you don't mind, I'd love to hear about your latest inventions- er, gadgets. Whaddaya say?"

There was a throaty, nasally chuckle. "Well, Gadget Gabe can hardly deny such indulgences. What to start with, what to start with..."

The twins stared at Charles as he grinned and praised Gadget Gabe, who rambled on and on about his gadgets- though truthfully, it was more like he was bragging about how much money he was going to make, rather than what these gadgets actually did. Still, Charles continued to butter him up, encouraging the man to go into detail about everything. The conversation drew on for several minutes, to the point that a lot of Charles' praises began to sound even more forced than they'd already been. Gadget Gabe didn't seem to notice or care, though.

Charles glanced back at the twins after a bit, making an exaggerated wink and gesturing vaguely at the sky in front of him. Konrad's eyes widened with understanding before he whispered something in Calvin's ear. Calvin responded with a silent "oh" and matching Charles' wink.

Gadget Gabe might not have wanted them to speak to Rupert, but if they kept him- and possibly Rupert- from going anywhere, it would only be a matter of time until the helicopter arrived in Shady Sea Town. If Charles could keep up this charade, they'd be able to get the jump on him. Unfortunately, Charles could only say "wow, cool" in so many ways.

When the voice started to sound bored, Charles decided to take a risk. "So uh, how's Rupert doing?"

Instantly, there was a shift in the air. Gadget Gabe's droning voice was silent for a long moment, finally ending with a clipped "he's fine."

"Great!" Charles said, grinning so widely that it was starting to hurt. "I'd heard that Rupert was looking for an old friend of his. Since you've got his phone, you must be helping him, right?"

"...Yes..."

Calvin made a cautioning motion at Charles. Charles nodded in understanding. Gadget Gabe was clearly getting nervous; he needed to pick his words carefully from now on. "Rupert's friend is a huge science fan, too! I wonder if he's also heard of your gadgets?"

The man chuckled, settling back into the praise. "Most certainly, if Dave has good tastes."

"Who's Dave?" Konrad mouthed at Charles.

"Rupert's friend," Charles mouthed back, then resumed smiling. "No doubt about it! I wonder which of your gadgets he'd like best..."

"A tracking device," Gadget Gabe answered immediately.

"O-oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"It would save Gadget Gabe plenty of time if he ever again falls into a pocket dimension-”

"Like the Backrooms?" Calvin blurted. Konrad shoved him roughly, but quietly.

"What was that?" Gadget Gabe's voice grew stern. "Your voice changed for a moment..."

Charles cleared his throat with as much exaggeration as possible. "Ahem, hem, s-sorry, I swallowed a dust bunny, haha. I-I was asking... uh..." He glanced at the twins, who mouthed the question to him. "Th-the Backrooms? It's, uh..." the twins gestured around with their hands, and Charles was just barely able to interpret the movements. "It's this thing I'd heard of- on the- on the internet? Um, it's when people... ‘No-Clip?’ Through the ground? A-and they end up in weird places. Just- just thought that kind of sounded like what you said, just now..."

Gadget Gabe grumbled to himself, too quietly to really make anything out besides a few words: "...Internet... copy-right laws... stealing..." After a moment he cleared his throat with finality. "Gadget Gabe has things to do. Gadget Gabe will hang up now-"

"Wait!" Charles cried. The screens on the control panel were blinking more frequently; Shady Sea Town was just a half hour or so away-!

"What is it?" Gadget Gabe snapped.

"Just- um-" he struggled to think of anything to keep him on the phone, but it was a losing battle. He sighed in defeat. "C-could you tell Rupert that I called? And let him know that I'm looking forward to hearing from him again?"

"Fine." There was another click, and the line went dead.

Exhaling slowly, Charles leaned back in his pilot's chair, eyes fixed on the sky ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Calvin and Konrad shift around each other, likely discussing what had just happened.

What had just happened? Charles honestly wasn't entirely sure, but it didn't seem good in the slightest. Rupert was with Gadget Gabe, as he'd suspected, but he wasn't available to talk. Gadget Gabe had Rupert's phone, and only talked as much as he had because of Charles' careful ego-boosting. Rupert had told Gadget Gabe about Dave, trusted him with that information, and Gadget Gabe seemed to honestly think that Dave was lost in a pocket dimension, or whatever he'd said.

Maybe it was petty of him, but Charles felt hurt at the idea that Rupert trusted this sleazy “scientist” more than him. He thought he was so close to bridging the gap between them, but apparently not.

Why did Rupert always keep his distance, anyway?  Time and again, Charles had gone out of his way to prove to the man that he could lower his guard around him, confide in him. He seemed so close... Maybe he wasn't as good at befriending people as he thought.

"Uh," Konrad said after a minute, drawing Charles from his thoughts. "Not to alarm you or anything, but I tried to leave Rupert a text- just to see if he'd read it later? And..." He leaned forward, holding Charles' phone out to him.

Charles glanced down. Konrad wrote a brief message and hit the send button, only for a small red X to appear on the screen. His grip on the stick shift tightened so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Your number has been blocked. Sorry!

Chapter Text

Dave landed much sooner than he'd expected.

The impact punched the breath from his lungs; whatever he’d landed on was soft enough to bounce once beneath his weight. He scrambled to sit up.

Once he stopped blinking at the speed of a freight train, he realized that he was now in a small, cozy bedroom, lying on top of a made bed with a door to his right and a window to his left. Dave launched himself off the bed and hurried to the window, thrusting it open with as much strength as he could. More than he needed, evidently, and he cringed at the loud bang that sounded out.

After a second, he cautiously peeked out the window, staring out into a tidy little neighborhood spread out over a hill-scape of well-trimmed lawns. Simple asphalt roads ran from house to house, the sky above clear and blue, completely free of clouds. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the room in calming waves.

Dave took a few deep breaths, letting the sweet scent ease his nerves. He wasn't falling. He wasn't trapped in the dark. He was okay.

…He was also very confused.

Where was he? Had it all been a strange nightmare? If it was a dream, then who had save him from the Toppats? Whose house was this, anyway?

Dave glanced towards the door of the bedroom. If someone had brought him here, then maybe they were still around? The thought unsettled him; after being alone for so long, the idea of seeing another person made his stomach squirm uncomfortably. He hugged himself lightly, then straightened up to his full height. No. He had no reason to be scared. Someone had saved him and brought him into their home; they had to be a good person. Besides, there was a chance they'd gone out of the house to run errands or something; that would give him a little more time to psyche himself up for meeting his rescuer.

Dave opened the bedroom door quietly, continuing to breathe slowly and deeply as he peered into the hallway. There was another window directly across from him, a bathroom at the end of the hall on his left, and a set of stairs leading down to the first floor on his right. He peered down the stairs; they were half-turn stairs with a small landing halfway down. It was made of light wood, smooth but not slick-looking. There was even a handrail to hold onto, made of that same light-colored wood. It would take less than ten seconds to walk down them.

Dave's feet were glued to the floor.

"It was just a dream," he muttered to himself. "Nothing actually happened. You fell and hit your head. None of that other stuff was real. It's just some stairs. You've got a handrail. Just go down the stairs."

He inched closer, grabbing the rail with both hands as he very... slowly... dragged his first foot down onto the first step. After a second, he repeated the motion with his other foot, bringing it down to that same step. Dave kept doing this; dragging his feet down each step, one at a time, until he finally, finally reached the first floor of the house.

He exhaled sharply, his grip on the handrail so tight that his arms were shaking. It took him another minute to build up the courage to let go and stand on his own. He toddled unsteadily into the main room before leaning against the doorframe, resting a hand over his pounding heart as he looked around the house.

The first floor was an open floor plan that contained a simple kitchen with a fridge, an oven, a table with four chairs, as well as a small living room with a single brown couch and a coffee table. There were plenty of windows, all clean and letting in plenty of bright daylight. Dave's eyes flicked to the fridge first. It would be rude to take something without permission, but it had been a while since he'd eaten... even if he wasn't actually that hungry right now. Maybe he could take something small, like an apple or some carrots.

Once his legs were steady again, he went to the fridge and pulled the door open with a bit of oomph, looking inside to find... absolutely nothing. The fridge was completely empty; in fact, aside from the tiny lightbulb inside, the fridge didn't seem to be working. It wasn’t cold at all. Dave stepped back quickly, watching the door slowly close on its own. Why wouldn't there be any food? Unless...

Dave hurried to the front door in front of the stairs and opened it easily, staring out into the lawn and the lawns of dozens of other houses. Despite the lovely weather, no one seemed to be out and about, but he spotted a street sign by the corner of the road and sped towards it. He was in the suburbs, on a little street called...

"Uh," Dave said, staring at the mess of white on green. It was as if multiple letters and names had been laid over each other, creating unreadable shapes that hurt his eyes to look at. He peered further down the road, searching for any other street signs he could use to figure out where he was. That was when he noticed something else.

He'd originally thought that he was in some sort of gated community, but the houses didn't just look similar: they were the exact same house, repeated over and over at different orientations. The same number of windows, the same roof shapes, the same doors-

Dave ran to a different house and opened the door. The inside was the exact same layout as before, with the exact same furniture. He opened the fridge just to make sure; absolutely no food of any kind. He burst into the next house; same exact thing.

He ran back out onto the road and shouted, "Is anyone here? Hello?!"

Hello? He startled when his voice echoed back to him. Hello? Hello?

It felt like he was outside. It smelled like he was outside. It even sounded like he was outside, with the way his voice doubled over across the rolling green hills that surrounded him. But despite all of the houses, there were no power lines, telephone poles, street lamps, or anything else that a real suburban neighborhood would have. The hills and roads and houses seemed to go on for miles in every direction. Open air and skies and nothing else, forever.

He'd wished for this, Dave remembered with a start. When he was trapped in that mall, he'd wanted nothing more than to be able to see the sky, to not feel trapped, to be outside. This place was exactly what he wanted, but he had never felt more miserable, more afraid, more alone.

He was dead.

He had to be.

He’d died on the Toppat Airship, and now this was his afterlife: wandering from nightmare to nightmare with no beginning or end in sight.

Forever.

"HELP!" The sound tore itself from his throat as he broke into a run. "I DON'T WANT TO BE DEAD! I DON'T WANT THIS! I WANT TO GO HOME! RUPERT! RUPERT! HELP ME!"

Dave ran and ran. He screamed and screamed. He begged and pleaded and called for help.

"Rupert," he wailed, "someone, please, help-" His throat choked itself raw, leaving him coughing and gagging around a sharp pain that tasted of blood and phlegm and tears, his cries growing quieter and hoarser as his voice died a slow and painful death. Tiny, strangled wheezes were the only things left to crawl out of his throat, barely audible in Dave's own ears. His lungs burned and his heart pounded, his legs and arms trembling with each step as he staggered through the empty fields like a zombie.

There were no birds singing, or wind blowing, or even the sun in the sky. The houses and roads had disappeared, leaving him in an endless field of green with the blue sky hanging above; surreal, unmoving, dreamlike.

Eternal.

He tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the ground. The blades of grass and even the soil they grew from were so close, but there weren’t even any ants to keep him company. His eyes welled with tears, and he sobbed hoarsely.

Dave gave up.

Chapter Text

It was hard to breathe, but not for the reason Rupert had been expecting. There hadn’t been any air at all before, but now there was too much- it whistled past his ears in shrieks of wind, drying him off completely. He finally managed to open his eyes- a struggle with this incredible wind surrounding him- and found himself staring up at the big, blue sky. It was stunningly beautiful; a rich, cloudless blue that filled his vision so completely that he couldn't even see the sun.

...Where the hell was the sun.

Rupert blinked harshly and looked around. His arms and legs were suspended above him, as if all this wind was holding him in place... or like he was falling.

"OH CRAP!" He flailed wildly, managing to flip around to see the ground far below him, an endless field of grass with nothing in sight to catch him or break his fall. He shouted and flailed some more, helpless to escape death as it approached him rapidly. Any second now, he'd be sitting in a tiny little crater of his own making, his insides completely liquified from the high velocity impact and his bones shattered into dust...

…Wouldn't he?

Rupert stared at the line where the sky and earth met. He was falling, he was clearly falling, the wind implied he was falling- and yet the horizon did not move. It was like he was suspended in midair, falling down without moving an inch. He was stuck up here, with no way down.

"Are you bloody kidding me right now?!" He shouted. The wind ripped the sound away so quickly he wasn't even sure he'd said it aloud. He flailed around some more, as if an invisible ledge might suddenly appear for him to grab onto. His hand hit his belt, where, miraculously, his walkie-talkie had somehow put itself back in its holster. Rupert struggled to pull it free; maybe the wind had dried it enough so that it was working again?

"GG, this is Rupert Price; do you copy?” He yelled over the wind. “Price to GG, do you read me? Hello?!"

The machine didn't make a single noise- or if it did, it was impossible to hear. More likely the water had killed it completely. Rupert shouted and threw the walkie-talkie away; the wind carried it out of sight in an instant.

He scrambled to pull his backpack off, thinking maybe there was something else he could use to call for help. He managed to unzip the bag, only for cracked test tubes and ruined plastic baggies to fly out and hit him in the face. He swatted it all away, his hand connecting with something solid that he grabbed as quickly as possible: the "teleporter" that Gadget Gabe had given him. He had no idea if it was even working, or if it even worked to begin with; it had looked like a hunk of junk from the start, and was probably just for show.

He made to throw it away, only to stop halfway through and hug it to his chest. A strangled scream tore itself from his throat, the noise disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

All of that effort, all of that crap he'd gone through, just to end up falling infinitely for the rest of his miserable existence? Was that all he'd get? Was that all he'd managed to accomplish? Tears streaked up the side of his face, and he screamed behind clenched teeth. He hadn't even come close to finding Dave, and now he never would. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd ever done in his life, gone. And it was all for Dave.

It was always for Dave.

It was always for Dave.

Why was it always for Dave?

From the moment they met, they'd practically been attached at the hip. Dave followed him around like a baby duckling with its mother, from school to school, from club to club, from city to city. It had taken him eight years, but he'd even followed Rupert onto the West Mesa police force, at least until the layoffs had happened.

Rupert loved it. Every second of it. Dave always put everything he had into everything he tried, something Rupert genuinely admired and respected. Plus the fact that Dave would try, and keep trying, meant more to him than anything. He didn't always succeed, but the way he'd eventually bounce back from anything was awe inspiring.

Rupert didn't have that. There were too many times he'd almost given something up because he couldn't get it right immediately. Time and again, though, Dave's gentle smile and his genuine, honest belief that Rupert could do anything, had pushed him to keep going until he succeeded. The way Dave's eyes lit up with wonder and joy when Rupert finally came out on top was always worth it. Dave was always worth it.

Rupert had been so happy when Dave finally managed to get hired at the museum. He and Johnny practically raided the local gas station for snacks and drinks to celebrate; Dave had been so adorably flustered by the attention.

They snacked and drank into the wee hours of the morning, which is when Dave admitted that he was nervous. Being the new guy at West Mesa had been hard enough, but without Rupert, Dave thought it would be impossible.

Rupert had hugged him tightly. The apartment was dark and the couch had been lumpy beneath them; Johnny had fallen asleep at an angle and was snoring loudly. He told Dave he was certain he’d be perfect for the job, that he'd flourish, that he’d be safe.

He hadn't been. And the night Johnny died and Rupert had come staggering home, after hours of filing police reports and making calls to Johnny's family, only to walk in on even more police officers informing him that Dave had been kidnapped... He'd thought he would fall to pieces that would never be put back together. They'd had to keep watch on him for days, and it was only thanks to a passing mention of the local military branch seeking new recruits that Rupert had gotten back on his feet.

He'd worked hard, used every resource available to him to climb as far up the ranks as possible, doing anything for even a scrap of authority he could use to find Dave, to save him. He'd been so close. The Toppats had surrendered. Dave had to be on board that airship.

And now here Rupert was, pushed so far back from where he'd started that none of it even mattered. Dave was gone, and probably had been since the start. Now, in a sense, so was Rupert.

Maybe… maybe if he’d just accepted the truth, moved on with his life like everyone told him to, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He could have kept climbing the ranks, earning power and prestige until he was at the very top-

Rupert blinked forcefully. That line of thought didn’t sound like something he’d think at all, plus it wasn’t even true. He’d never been interested in that crap. That wasn’t why he’d joined the military, or the police force. He’d done it to do good, to help those who needed it, to save people like Dave. Dave, who’d saved him in more ways than he’d ever know. Dave, who was so faithful, so kind, so loving…

“I’m in love with Dave Panpa.” It came out as a whisper, almost inaudible, but he’d said it. He said it again. “I’m in love with Dave Panpa.” Then again, louder and louder until he was screaming it into the sky: “I love Dave Panpa! I love Dave Panpa! I! Love! Dave! Panpa! ”

The wind screamed back, trying to tear the words away from his mouth, his mind, his heart, but Rupert held fast. It was a battle between who could scream louder, him versus this strange, awful wind that seemed determined to take the truth away from him. It shrieked in his ears, you can’t have Dave, you can’t have him, you won’t take him, you won’t.

“I love Dave! I loooOOH SHIT-!” He looked down and saw the ground was rapidly approaching. He was actually falling now, death rushing up to greet him as he was helpless to stop it…

But then he saw something else.

In the field below, almost but not quite impossible to see, was a little dark spot. And maybe it was because of how fast he was falling, or the carnal desperation flooding his veins, but the spot seemed to have a distinct, almost human shape to it.

It had to be.

“Dave!” Rupert shouted. “I’m up here!” He waved his arms wildly, trying to draw the motionless figure’s attention. “I’m up here, Dave! Dave!"

"Dave!"

"DAVE!”

Chapter Text

Giving up was nice, Dave decided. The grass was warm and soft. The sky was warm and soft. He was warm and soft.

It was like dozing on a sunny hilltop. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. There was nothing to fear here, nothing to stress about. This place was perfect. Nothing could ever be better than this.

He didn’t need to leave.

Ever.

“...!”

Dave rolled onto his back lazily, eyes sliding open to stare at the deep expanse of blue above him. It was beautiful and eternal, peaceful and quiet.

“...!”

Dave furrowed his brow, blinking more firmly. There it was again, that little noise in the back of his head, disturbing what was supposed to be complete silence. In fact, he kept hearing it, over and over until he spotted a strange dot in the sky above him. He lifted his head and squinted; the dark spot was getting closer, as if it was falling from the sky, and it kept making the same noise over and over again: a name.

His name.

Dave struggled to his feet, his whole body shaking with effort to get up from the comfy grass, and he stared up at what was slowly becoming obvious: Rupert Price, falling from the sky.

“Rupert…!” Dave whispered, then louder. “Ru-!”

He coughed and gagged, his throat raw from screaming earlier. There was no way Rupert would be able to hear him. Even if he did, what could he do about it? There was nothing to catch him with, and there were only seconds left of the fall. Any moment now, Rupert would smash into the ground, and the only friend Dave would have in this horrible place would be his rotting corpse.

He looked around frantically, stumbling with the movement in an effort to stay on his feet. There was grass for miles around, and absolutely nothing else. Dave was completely powerless…

 His eyes slid down to the grass. He’d left an imprint with his weight, and the blades of grass were springing back up slowly… no, not springing up; gesturing. Waving and coaxing Dave to lie back down, to get comfortable and fall asleep forever. He wouldn’t have to worry about a thing soon.

All he had to do was lie down.

Dave fell hard onto his knees, arms trembling with the effort to stay upright. He wanted so badly to stop fighting, to bury his face in the grass and sleep and sleep and sleep. He wanted it so bad that it hurt. His head drooped towards the ground.

“Please,” he whispered. “I’ll never ask for anything else. Just please, let me have Rupert, safe and sound.”

.

.

.

Whatever was pulling Dave down released a little, and Rupert’s voice was suddenly coming from a very different direction.

He looked up just in time to see Rupert tumbling past him, no longer calling his name but yelling in choppy, pained yelps as he slowly, slowly, rolled to a stop in the grass. It was like the direction of his fall had been changed so that he’d be dragged to a stop instead of splattering on impact. That was physically impossible, but-

Rupert groaned loudly in pain, and Dave stumbled to his feet. He glanced again briefly at the ground. “...Thank you,” he whispered, then ran over as fast as he could.

He was covered in grass stains, bruises, scrapes, and weird bits of technology that Dave didn’t recognize, but there was no mistaking who he was.

“Rupert?”

His voice was still hoarse, barely audible in his own ears, but Rupert’s eyes shot open. They stared at each other for a long moment. “...Dave?” Rupert whispered.

His throat hitched once. Twice. Then Dave was sobbing, tears streaming down his face in sweet relief. Rupert scrambled to his feet and wrapped him in a desperate hug, even swinging him around and around as Dave continued sobbing.

Finally, they slowed and pulled apart, just a little. Rupert reached up and swiped a tear away from Dave’s cheek with his thumb, his own tears threatening to spill over. Dave clasped that hand tight to his face, relishing in the warmth that radiated from his skin. “How-” he hitched, “how did you find me? How are you here?”

Rupert pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. “I was looking for you,” he said breathlessly. “I never stopped looking for you. No matter what.”

“I…” Dave sniffed, “I’m so happy…” He wrapped him in another hug and squeezed as hard as he could, crying into the crook of Rupert’s neck. Rupert did the same, so much that it was hard to breathe, but Dave didn’t care. There had never been another moment in his entire life that had been this wonderful, this perfect. In fact…

“God, I could kiss you right now.” Rupert stiffened, and it was like being doused in cold water. “Oh… Oh no…” Dave covered his mouth and turned away, horrified.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined everything just by opening his stupid mouth. The way he always did. “I’m so sorry.” Tears filled his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t trying to- God, please don’t hate me, please forget what I said, just forget it-!”

“David Panpa.”

Dave flinched. “Y-yes?”

Rupert locked eyes with him, holding him painfully tight in complete silence. Dave couldn’t breathe.

Then Rupert crashed their lips together, the impact bruising. Dave’s eyes widened, growing even wider as Rupert changed angles to kiss him harder, again and again.

He was kissing Rupert Price.

Rupert Price was kissing him.

Dear God.

He finally returned the motion with fervor, clawing at Rupert’s back and running his hands through that wild black hair until they both had to come back up for air. They gasped heavily, and Rupert gave him a breathless grin that Dave slowly but eagerly returned.

“How was that?” Rupert asked.

“It was good,” Dave managed. “Really, really good.”

Rupert raised his eyebrows and leaned close. “Want me to do it again, even better?”

Dave blushed and looked away. “I… wouldn’t say no…”

Rupert took his chin in his hands and pulled his face back towards him. “I wouldn’t say no, either,” he whispered lowly, and Dave hugged him tightly, mostly to hide his face in his shoulder again. Rupert returned the gesture, rubbing his back as they slowly regained their breaths.

Once they did, Rupert pulled back and looked up at Dave, a small but determined smile on his face. “Come on, Davie,” he said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The sky turned red.

Sudden gusts of wind kicked dirt and grass into their eyes, and Rupert did his best to shield Dave from most of it. A low sound droned through the air, getting louder and deeper until their teeth rattled in their mouths.

“Bloody hell, what now?” Rupert growled. He pulled Dave forward. “Hurry, Dave, there’s gotta be someplace to- Dave?”

Dave did not move. Boiling, disgusting fear filled every inch of his body as his eyes locked onto the ground.

“Dave!” Rupert shook him more firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Dave gulped, the words bubbling up like bile in his throat. “I think- I just trapped you in here. Forever.”

“What- Dave, what are you on about?”

“You were falling.” His voice was faint with shame and despair. “I couldn’t save you, but this place… I promised I’d never ask for anything again. Now you’re safe, but I’m still here. I-” He looked into Rupert’s eyes, tears burning and voice strangled even further. “I traded your life for your freedom, and now it’ll never let us leave…! Rupert, I’m so sorry-!”

Rupert cupped his face in both hands. “Look at me, Davie,” he said seriously. “We can leave, and we will. I promise.”

The ground began to shake beneath them, the sky turning darker and stormier as the wind grew stronger. Gravity felt strange, like they were starting to slide down a slope, and Dave realized that the world was reversing: the ground was becoming the sky as the sky became the ground. A black hole grew in the midst of that stormy red sky, the world warping around it. The ground seemed to physically roll up and inwards, yet gravity still wanted to pull them “down”; down into that endless, hungry hole.

Dave saw things beyond that darkness: familiar, like the endless yellow hallways and tiled pool rooms. New, like beaches that stretched far into the fog or cities that stacked up and out together in infinite patterns. Some were tame; others were incomprehensibly terrifying.

All of that and more was waiting for them, once they fell into the sky.

Rupert shouted suddenly. Dave looked to see him fiddling with one of the bits of technology he’d been carrying. “What is that?”

“It’s a teleporter! …I think.” Rupert stared at the object like it might bite him. “That’s what I was told, but- argh, I can’t make heads or tails of this crap! He just said to ‘follow my heart’, or something stupid like that!”

They were actively sliding now, growing closer and closer to tumbling into that hangry eternity. Dave stared at the box- the teleporter- and began slapping the green buttons randomly.

“Wha- Dave-?!”

“It’s the only thing we have!” He kept pressing the buttons, Rupert joining after a bit as the droning sky grew louder and stronger.

Dave had no idea what he was doing, but his thoughts were shrill with the need to leave right now. His feet lifted off the ground. “Rupert-!” He shrieked.

“The red button! NOW!”

They tumbled towards the sky, just as they pressed the red button together.

The world shattered around them: colors, sounds, smells, temperatures and sensations changing so rapidly and so extremely that Dave thought he might explode. They slammed into something, the impact smacking their heads together so painfully that they blacked out to the scent of ozone and rotten garbage.

Chapter Text

“Are lighthouses cool?” Calvin wondered, glancing down the hill towards the beach. “I don’t know if lighthouses are even that cool.”

“I mean, maybe?” Konrad replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “They’re used to keep boats from crashing into the shore, right? So they’ve got to be a little important.”

“‘Important’ isn’t the same as ‘cool’,” Calvin countered, “not that that lighthouse over there looks that important, either.”

“I thought they were supposed to be really tall?”

“Maybe it’s not real?”

“What’s the point of a lighthouse if it’s not real? They’re not even that cool.”

“That’s exactly my point!”

Charles bit his lip and he looked down the different paths that went out from Shady Sea Town’s town square. They’d arrived maybe ten minutes ago, getting permission from the airport to land quickly before looking for the police station, or whatever a tiny little tourist trap wannabe town had instead. The town seemed almost completely empty, and all of the buildings looked identical with their filthy, sun bleached walls and dirty windows. He wanted to think positively; maybe Shady Sea Town was just a very private community. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t very welcome here.

“Hey, guys?” He looked over his shoulder at the twins and gave them a tired smile. “I think it’d be better if we found Rupert before debating the importance of lighthouses, y’know?”

“You’re definitely not wrong,” Konrad agreed.

“He’s definitely not not right, either.” Calvin took off his military cap and shook out his hair before putting it back on. “How can a place that’s so lukewarm be so hot?”

“I think the more accurate word would be ‘clammy’.”

“It smells clammy, too.”

“Speaking of clammy,” Konrad said suddenly, pointing down the path towards the beach, where an old man was walking up the hill with a wheelbarrow full of fish. “That’s the first person we’ve seen since we got here. Hopefully he won’t ‘clam up’ when we talk to him.”

“Shut up,” Calvin groaned.

“No, you.”

Charles left them to it and hurried to meet the man, drawing up another bright and friendly grin despite his nerves. “Excuse me, sir? Would you mind if we spoke for a second?”

The man didn’t seem to hear him until they were only a dozen yards apart. His head shot up as if he’d been sleep walking, squinting at Charles with his one eye suspiciously. Charles kept smiling as he slowed to a stop next to the man. The fish in the wheelbarrow had probably been caught that day, but the eye watering stench indicated that they hadn’t been stored properly since they left the ocean. One of the fish twitched wetly, and he held back a grimace. “Hello, sir,” he said again, “may I ask you some questions?”

One the flies that had been buzzing near the man’s catch landed on his scarred-over eye. He didn’t seem to notice. “What sort o’ questions, boyo? I don’t want no trouble.”

“Oh, no,” Charles said quickly, “no troubles, sir, I promise. We’re just looking for someone, that’s all.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, then pulled up an old picture he’d taken of Rupert a couple of weeks ago, back before all of this had started. He showed it to the man. “Do you recognize this person? Have you seen him lately?”

The old man leaned forward to squint at the photo, then leaned back and appraised Charles. There was an awkward silence for a moment, finally interrupted by Calvin Bukowski. “So, is that a yay or a nay?”

“I think pirates say ‘aye’, not ‘yay’,” Konrad whispered back.

“But that doesn’t rhyme with nay.”

“Aye,” the man interrupted. “I’ve seen yer lil’ bloke, but I’ve a feelin’ that ship’s sailed.”

Charles blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I seen ‘im but a day or so past, and ‘e’s not been back since. Poor landlubber went to the lighthouse; ‘e ‘ad a bone to pick, but no doubt ‘is bones were picked instead.”

“Do pirates always speak in riddles?” Konrad wondered.

The man glared at them. “I be sayin’ that blasted Gadget Gabe’s done ‘im in!” He snapped. “That scallywag stole away our lighthouse, and now e’s stolen yer mate away, too! If ye be lookin’ to join ‘im, make fer the lighthouse. If not, then leave! That’s all I’ve to say on the matter.” With that, the man hoisted up the handles of his wheelbarrow and stormed up the path towards the town.

“...I legitimately didn’t understand a word of that,” Calvin admitted.

“Do you think he actually has that accent, or was just messing with us?” Konrad asked.

Charles’ brain felt like an egg frying on the sidewalk. So Rupert had been seen here, at least within the past few days, and was last spotted heading for the lighthouse. Most concerning of all, though, was that if he understood the man right, Gadget Gabe was there too, and was possibly dangerous as well as a sleazeball. Rupert was more than capable of taking care of himself, so if someone had managed to do him in… well, Charles didn’t like the thought of that one bit.

He cleared his throat, and the twins quieted instantly. Charles scanned the distant beach once more before facing them firmly. “The lighthouse seems to be an hour’s walk along the shore,” he said. “I saw some all terrain bikes at the airport, so we’ll borrow those and take the trip quickly. Light weaponry, easy to conceal; maybe one pistol each and mostly melee otherwise. You two start ASAP while I message the General before following behind. Barring any unforeseen circumstances- knock on wood- we’ll be able to cut the travel time in half. We’ll search for entry methods once we’re in range. Any questions?”

The twins nodded in sync. He appreciated that they were able to read the room enough to know when he was serious- not everyone knew he was a more nuanced character. “Good. Let’s move out.”

*

Despite the grimy dampness of both the beach and the lighthouse, Charles knew for a fact that it hadn’t rained recently. Part of piloting anything was being able to read the weather, after all, so the fact that a heavy trail of water seemed to have simply appeared on the rotten steps of the lighthouse set off sirens in his head immediately. The rotten wooden door tossed aside like it’d been ripped off its hinges didn’t help, either.

He stashed his borrowed bike behind a low cropping of rocks and motioned for the twins to do the same. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” he began, standing at his full height. “There’s a minimum of two hostiles and one ally up ahead. Until otherwise proven, all hostiles should be considered armed and dangerous.” He locked eyes with Konrad and flicked his fingers in the direction of the entrance. “Konrad scouts first, pistol in hand and safety on, while Calvin,” he flicked his fingers again, “follows up, sticking with melee for now. I’ll follow up the rear, pistol safety on as well. Low and slow is the name of the game; we assess the situation, then find a safety zone to regroup in. Anything suspicious, knock out a quick SOS. Understood?”

The Bukowskis nodded in sync, and Konrad crept up the steps quickly. He peered through the doorway for a few seconds, then slipped inside. Calvin came up behind him, only to stop short on the threshold. After a second, he leaned back and mouthed to Charles, “Downstairs. Arguing.”

“Plan A,” Charles mouthed back. Calvin relayed the message, then slipped inside. Charles drew his pistol, hovering a finger over the safety switch as he stepped inside as well.

The interior of the lighthouse was as dirty and cramped as the rest of the town, and Charles’ eyes were drawn immediately to the trail of water that continued down a dark flight of steps. Konrad’s head was just disappearing from sight as he went down, and Calvin waited until Charles was fully inside before following. Charles moved carefully, aiming his weapon above and behind him in case of an ambush.

The stairs were slick, and Charles briefly wondered if someone had taken a dip before entering this place. Who on Earth would be swimming at this awful beach, though? He shook the thought away and finally passed through another doorway into the basement. The twins were further inside, poking around and grimacing at the rancid old laundry and trash that covered most of the floor. Charles pursed his lips, but there were worse things they could have been dealing with.

He heard a weird scratching sound and looked to see Calvin and Konrad rubbing the heels of their boots against the floor; apparently the laundry was so thick that tapping out messages was a negative. That was when he heard it.

He wouldn’t have called it ‘arguing’; that usually implied that two people were talking, but he could only hear one voice, a woman’s, speaking quickly and angrily in a language Charles didn’t recognize. He gestured towards Calvin, who put away his knife and pulled out his gun. Together, the three of them flipped off the safety switches and approached the hallway up ahead, pressing against the wall and stopping just short of where the corner turned out of sight. The woman was still talking, though there was a second voice now, barely: more of a choked squeak than anything, like whoever was trying to speak physically couldn’t. He flicked his gaze between Calvin and Konrad, then nodded once.

“FREEZE!” He shouted as the three of them moved into the open. “Official military business! Everyone put your hands on your head, NOW!”

Neither of the two people in the room did this, mostly because one of them was actively being strangled while the other was actively doing the strangling. The woman’s voice thundered ahead as if she hadn’t heard him at all, all of her fury focused onto the tiny, greasy little man she held between her two gloved hands. They were plasticky blue gloves, like what a doctor might wear, and it suddenly occurred to Charles that he recognized this voice from somewhere.

“Dr Vinschpinsilstein?”

She turned to look at him, seeming not to particularly care that three guns were aimed directly at her. She dropped the small man, almost as if she’d forgotten she was strangling him, and stepped back a few paces with her hands at head level. Charles flipped the safety back on, the twins doing the same as they dragged the man away from the doctor.

“Dr. Vinsch- Dr. V,” he said, putting his gun in its holster but not locking it up completely. “What are you doing? Who is that man? Where’s Rupert Price? What the heck is going on around here?”

Dr. V waited patiently for him to run out of questions (he was pretty sure he’d gotten all the essentials), then spoke calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. “You are ‘Charlie’, da? From government? Looking for Gadget Gabe?”

“Uh,” Charles said after a beat, “yes, yep, and yeah. …That didn’t actually answer any of my questions, y’know.”

“Will answer them now.” Dr. V glanced over at the twins, who were helping the man stand up. Even without his throat squeezed shut, he was still making those same pitiful squeaks. Based on the way the twins were trying not to grimace too openly, he was likely the source of the garbage in this place. “That man is Gadget Gabe,” she explained. “Rupert Price… I do not know him. And me, am here for Babushkat. Gadget Gabe did not cooperate; I did not let him breathe.”

“Babushkat…?” Charles muttered, then shook his head. “It’s not okay to strangle people! Even if he was being stubborn or uncooperative, that doesn’t make that okay!”

Dr. V gave him a half-eyed look. “Stealing also not ‘okay’, da? He steals Babushkat, I steal his life; ‘easy-peasey’.”

“Um, no,” Charles insisted, “not ‘easy-peasey’. At all. What even is a Babushkat, anyway?”

Dr. V didn’t say anything for a second. Then she coughed lightly, pink dusting her cheeks. It was then that Charles realized that she was soaking wet, from head to foot. “My Babushkat is… how you say: ‘fur baby’. Moy melan’kiy kot.”

The man- Gadget Gabe- let out another wheeze. “You really don’t want that cat-”

Dr. V snapped her head in his direction. “I say so, not you. You wish for death?”

“Nope, nope, nope!” Charles put himself in her way quickly. “Let’s not wish for death, okay?”

“Oh,” Konrad said suddenly. “‘Babushkat’. I get it.”

“Shut up!” Calvin yelled.

“Okay,” Charles announced, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Even with his headphones on, all the yelling was giving him a headache. “Let’s put a pin on the cat for a second. Gadget Gabe,” he turned and pointed at the man, who cowered pathetically. “Where is Rupert Price? We know he came to this lighthouse to find you, so please be honest.”

Gadget Gabe didn’t say anything, though his eyes flicked towards the back of the room. When Charles looked, he at first only saw an odd control panel in front of a window, but then he saw a dark lump stuffed haphazardly underneath. Calvin left Konrad’s side and pulled the lump into view, staring at it for a moment before plucking something out of the pile. He waved it towards Charles. “This is Price’s cell phone, I’m sure of it. It’s locked, though.”

Charles fixed Gadget Gabe with a firm look. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sir: you can tell us where he is now, or you can tell us when we’re all getting cozy in a security office. Which’ll it be?”

“No!” Gadget Gabe wailed. “Don’t take Gadget Gabe’s gadgets! Gadget Gabe has done no wrong! The contract, the contract is very clear! Gadget Gabe made sure!”

“Contract?” Charles repeated.

Calvin picked through Rupert’s clothes again before pulling out a piece of paper. He scanned it with his eyes. “As far as I can tell, this is Price’s signature, too. Looks like he sold his soul for science or some crap.”

Charles closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. Of course Rupert went and did that. At this rate, it seemed to be more of a matter of what Rupert didn’t do to complete his mission. “Even still,” he said, refocusing his gaze to Gadget Gabe. “That doesn’t answer my question. In case you forgot, it was: where is Rupert Price?”

“He didn’t end up in the Backrooms, did he?” Konrad asked suddenly.

Gadget Gabe looked like a deer caught in the headlights, while Dr. V looked more befuddled than anything. “What are ‘back rooms’?” She asked, looking to Charles for an explanation.

“Uh,” he said, trying to remember what the twins had told him on the way over. “It’s like… this internet thing, I think? And it’s-”

“Gadget Gabe made the name first!” Gadget Gabe shrieked. “The internet is full of filthy, lying thieves!”

Dr. V barked out a laugh. “When you say that, is- how you say- ‘very rich’. You are filthiest thief that lies, that is certain.”

Calvin cleared his throat to draw her attention. “Okay, so imagine these big, empty hallways, right? And like… sometimes, the world gets weird, and you step through the floor or a wall and then you’re there. Forever.” Dr. V stared at him for a moment, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can explain it better, I swear-”

“This ‘back room’,” she said slowly, “is like pocket dimension, maybe?”

Calvin thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s kind of similar-”

“PRIDUROK!” she shouted, glaring at Gadget Gabe so fiercely that he started blubbering. “You trick others to be your guinea pig? Postydnyy! Nedostoynyy! Moshennik! Kot vor!”

“Hang on,” Charles said, waving his hands for attention. “Can someone please explain what’s happening? In English, preferably, or Spanish? My Spanish isn’t the best though, so English is better, please!”

“The videos,” Gadget Gabe explained miserably. “Posted to Instickgram, they were. Gadget Gabe heard of Rupert Price’s missing friend from there.”

Oh yeah, Charles thought, some of the people in the bar were filming us, I think.

“Gadget Gabe summoned Rupert Price,” Gadget Gabe continued, “promised to find his friend once the contract was signed!”

“Well, did you?” Konrad asked.

“...No. But-! But Gadget Gabe helped Rupert Price enter the Backrooms, yes! Gadget Gabe built the doorway, and Rupert Price entered!”

Finally, we’re getting somewhere, Charles thought. “Well, then open it! Open the doorway and tell Rupert to come out!”

“It’s no use,” Gadget Gabe moaned. “Gadget Gabe’s gadgets were ruined; impossible, it is, to know if he lives! Rupert Price is gone; as good as dead!”

“Dude, what the hell?” Calvin shouted.

“Yeah, what do you mean, ‘good as dead’?” Konrad asked angrily. “It’s a yes or no question; how can you not know?”

“Stupid man,” Dr. V scolded, “stupid and dumb.”

Charles’ ears started ringing before he could hear more. Rupert was dead? Not even dead, just… gone? Rupert wasn’t that friendly with him, Charles understood that just fine, but the idea that the man had simply disappeared, without even his body to confirm what had happened… was this what Rupert had felt when Dave had vanished? No, it must have been a thousand times worse; Charles’ feelings wouldn’t hold a candle to what Rupert had gone through. If Charles felt this awful, then Rupert must have felt like he was dying. How could Charles ever think that he of all people could have helped Rupert through that pain? His eyes were watering, the scent of ozone making him choke up-

Wait.

Everyone stopped arguing, as if they also could smell that sharp, metallic burning in the back of their noses. Then there was a sudden flash of light accompanied by an electric shriek, which ended as soon as a loud, dull *thump* landed nearby. Charles blinked the sun spot out of his eyes and looked to see two bodies curled up on the floor. He didn’t recognize one of them, but the other was very, very familiar. “Rupert?”

Everyone in the room stared at Rupert Price, who was covered in grass stains of all things and holding a frail looking man close to his body. It was so quiet that Charles could hear the two of them breathing evenly.

“...Look, they’re fine,” Gadget Gabe said after a beat. “Everything’s fine; all’s well that ends-”

Dr. V punched him in the face, then hurried to examine the new arrivals. “They live,” she announced. “They regain consciousness even now.”

Sure enough, Rupert and the other man groaned tiredly as they started to shuffle awake. The frailer man came to sooner, yelping when he spotted the others in the room. Rupert awoke more quickly at the noise, protectively pulling the man into his arms as he looked around wildly. Finally, he spotted Charles. “Calvin? What are you doing here? What are the Bukowski’s doing here? The hell’s going on now?”

Charles gasped, a strangled noise of relief that was quickly replaced with an aggravated groan as he marched over. “What were you thinking?!” He scolded. “Do you have any idea how worried we all were? We thought something terrible happened to you… which it kind of did! You lied about what you were doing, flew halfway across the country, and threw yourself into some weird pocket dimension thing! What kind of plan was that? The worst one, that’s what!”

Rupert blinked owlishly at him as Charles paused to regain his breath. “...Sorry,” he eventually mumbled, not meeting anyones eyes. “I didn’t think you lot would really care…”

“Seriously?” Calvin gave him a look. “Charlie cares about everyone! That’s like, his whole thing!”

“It’s one of his major defining traits!” Konrad nodded emphatically. “Have you not been paying attention the past several months?”

Rupert flicked his eyes towards Charles. “But… but I’m just your inferior-”

“Rupert Price,” Charles warned, “I’m going to make you run a hundred laps if you talk like that again.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Calvin said quickly, “he’s probably into that.”

Konrad rested his chin in one hand, nodding sagely. “If anyone has a ‘sir-yes-sir’ thing, it’d be him.”

“O-Oi!” Rupert’s face erupted into red.

“Um…” Everyone paused when the other man spoke. He was still clinging to Rupert like a lifeline, or maybe something more. “Rupert, who are these people…?”

“Oh, um,” Rupert gestured vaguely around the group. “These are my coworkers. I uh- joined the military while you were… gone.”

“Just coworkers?” Konrad said indignantly, putting a hand to his chest. “That’s so mean of you!”

“After all we do for you, each and every day!” Calvin cried.

Charles chuckled wetly, any anger or upset he’d been feeling watered down into pure relief. “I don’t think he’s ever appreciated the ‘favors’ you do for him, you two.”

“It’s not our fault he kept misplacing things!” Konrad insisted.

“Maybe a little bit our fault,” Calvin pointed out.

“Just a bit,” Konrad relented, “but not that much.”

“So,” Charles announced, reaching a hand down towards Rupert and the other man. “Hi, are you Rupert’s friend? Dave, right? I’m Charles Calvin; nice to meet you!”

“Rupert’s friend?” Calvin said suddenly. “The one who fell in the Backrooms?”

“You actually found him?!” Konrad said excitedly. “No way!” They began to overlap each other with hundreds of questions all aimed at poor Dave, who responded by burying his face shyly in Rupert’s chest.

“Oi, you two!” Rupert snapped. “Bugger off, he’s had it rough.” He held Dave as closely as possible, even as he grabbed Charles’ hand to hoist them both up. The Bukowski Twins gave each other a knowing Look.

Someone cleared their throat, and they all turned to see Dr. V adjusting her shiny red glasses. “Am sorry to intrude,” she said, “but there are many things to be done. Gadget Gabe must go to jail, and I must go to my lab boat. You two, Rupert and Dave, you will come with me.”

“Who’re you?” Rupert asked.

“I didn’t see a boat anywhere,” Charles muttered.

“I am Dr. Vinschpinsilstein, traveling scientist. I specialize in cybernetic technology, but am knowledgeable on other sciences as well. My lab boat is off shore; I will swim and bring it to the dock to retrieve you.”

“Wait, you swam to shore?” Konrad asked. “Why’d you do that?”

“Came for Babushkat, did not want to wait. Seems now I will wait for long time.” She looked sad for a moment, then shook her head and refocused on Rupert and Dave. “Health examination must begin, da? Potential side effects of being in pocket dimension must be treated now.”

“What about you?” Calvin asked. “You were strangling a guy two seconds ago.” Dave squeaked and buried himself further into Rupert.

“Let’s worry about that later,” Charles said, “ after we make sure everyone’s okay. So uh, don’t run off on us, okay, Doc?”

Dr. V shrugged non-committedly. “Will be fine, but da, I stay near.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Charles said gratefully. As the twins began to cuff Gadget Gabe, he gestured to the room behind him with his thumb. “Let’s get the heck out of here, huh, guys?”

Rupert nodded as he looped an arm around Dave’s waist. “You ready to go outside, Davie? It’s not gonna look or smell great, just to warn you.”

Dave, who had been gazing around the room as if everything was foreign to him, gave Rupert a watery smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

Two Months Later…

The neighborhood was far from perfect. The sidewalks were in desperate need of repair, several houses had sinking roofs or dying lawns, and the neighbors tended to be just a little bit crabby. But it was real, and it was wonderful.

Rupert had never been a big spender, so while working for the government, his paychecks had been adding up quite nicely. It wasn’t enough to pay for the entire house; there was still a solid mortgage to pay off, but it was enough to make it their own. It was one of the smaller houses on the street, only one story tall and with a brick exterior. The inside was far more interesting.

There were only four rooms, each themed around a different color or wallpaper. The living area had blue-gray paint and a navy couch, lots of soft blue blankets and a little gray brick fireplace. The kitchen had wallpaper covered in coffee cups, so the whole room was decorated to look like a cafe: a cozy wooden table and chairs with coffee-themed cushions, countertops of creamy white and cupboards of chocolate brown, and plenty of mugs scattered around the room. The entire bathroom was green, a rather old fashioned design that had become something of a joke between the two of them (though Rupert had insisted that no carpet was allowed), and the bedroom came in romantic shades of red, from the covers to the walls to the little landline they’d stuck on one of the bedside tables.

It was extremely eccentric, and probably an actual nightmare for interior design majors, but Rupert didn’t care. He would have gladly covered everything in glitter if it meant that Dave could feel safer in his own home.

Rupert sat at the kitchen table now, nursing a mug of tea as he looked out the window into the neighborhood. An older man- Mr. O’Hagen, if he remembered correctly- was shaking his cane at everyone who walked by his lawn. No doubt he’d do the same to them once they left the house, but Rupert was slowly learning to tolerate him. Slowly.

Light footsteps drew his attention towards the bedroom door, and Rupert looked to see Dave toddle sleepily into the kitchen. “Oi, Dave; good morning.”

Dave yawned and wandered towards the window. “Is it still morning?” He asked as he peered outside. “Oh, looks like Mr. O’Hagen’s out again…”

Rupert reached over and touched Dave’s wrist. “He won’t be a bother, I’ll make sure. And it is still morning, technically.”

Dave blinked and looked towards the clock on the stove. “Eleven thirty? Don’t we have to be somewhere at twelve? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“It’s only a ten minute walk from here,” Rupert said with a shrug, “and you looked right peaceful; I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Dave scratched the back of his neck with a smile, and he returned it warmly. “Need a cuppa? I’ll make you one.”

“Would you? I… still can’t figure out how the kettle works…”

“I’ll teach you again when we get home.” Rupert stood from his seat and carefully eased Dave into his chair. Once he was settled, he flicked a switch on the bottom of the electric kettle and twisted a knob or two for the right settings. The government’s mess hall only ever had cheap coffee for breakfast, so changing back to tea had done wonders for Rupert’s stomachaches and headaches. Dave had also grown a fondness for the stuff, especially the lemon ginger tea. It had soothed his throat many times over, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of it even on a good day.

Just before the kettle whistled, Rupert pulled it off its stand and poured it over the teabag in Dave’s mug, adding a sugar cube once the tea bag was thoroughly soaked. He set it in front of Dave before pulling the other chair over and sitting down again.

“It’s just Charlie meeting us today, right?” Dave asked.

Rupert hummed in confirmation. “Just wanted to check in on us again. There’s a little pastry shop up the street he suggested; I figured we might as well.”

Dave glanced at his mug with just a hint of regret. “Maybe we should have put this in a thermos…”

Rupert shook his head. “You’d best finish it first; you need something in your stomach for the walk, after all.”

Dave blushed. “Yeah, that uh… that last walk wasn’t very pleasant.”

“No, no it weren’t. Speaking of, you took your meds, right?”

“Did you?” Dave retorted, quirking a smile at him.

Rupert rolled his eyes. “Yes, love, I took my meds.”

“Even the pills?”

He made a face. “Unfortunately. God, I hate pills…”

Dave giggled and quickly drank down the last of his tea. “So, should we go?”

Rupert nodded, and they made for the doorway to put on their shoes, Dave using him for balance as he slipped his on one at a time. Rupert opened the door and led him outside, locking up and shoving his key in his pocket quickly.

Dave promptly attached himself to Rupert’s arm. Mr. O’Hagen shouted something or other, though whether it was because of them or something else, Rupert didn’t know or care. As they made their way towards the main street, some kids ran in front of them, chasing after an old soccer ball. Dave watched them go by, then smiled up at Rupert. He was getting better at looking at the world around him instead of just at the ground, as well as walking around by himself, but Rupert would never say no to holding his boyfriend close. Whatever he needed to get around, to grow confident and happy, Rupert would provide for him. It wasn’t even a question.

It was a little cloudy, but the sun shone so brightly that the sky seemed more white than blue. Cars drove by every now and then as they got closer to their destination, and occasionally Dave would murmur the brand of each car to himself; he was surprisingly good at identifying them without looking at the logo.

The little pastry shop- a “patisserie”, as Dave informed him- was a tiny little place sitting at the corner of a sidewalk on the edge of downtown. Charles was already sitting at the only table outside, and waved eagerly once he spotted them. Rupert waved back, then carefully eased Dave down from the curb, across the road, and back up onto the curb again. He could never know the true extent of Dave’s fears- and hopefully, he never would- so he could only imagine that painful, nagging fear in the back of Dave’s head that his next step might not land where he wanted it to. He pulled out a chair for Dave, took a firm hold of his hands, and slowly lowered him into the seat. He took the remaining seat once Dave was settled.

“Good morning, Charles,” Dave said, smiling softly at the pilot.

Even off duty, he still wore those bright red headphones, and he grinned just as brightly back at them. “Hey guys! How’re you doing?”

Rupert shrugged. “Getting better. Wish Dr. V would stop giving us so many bloody pills to take, but better.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Really? Pills are where you draw the line?”

“They’re an affront to God,” Rupert insisted.

“You mean to your throat,” Dave corrected.

“Is your throat God, Rupert?” Charles asked. “Or should I ask Dave about that instead?”

Dave choked on his own tongue while Rupert’s cheeks flushed. “Charles, what the hell?”

Charles grinned cheekily, somehow unashamed of himself. “Sorry; guess I’ve been hanging out with the Bukowski’s too much.”

“Well that’s bloody obvious!”

“But anyway,” Charles said quickly, “speaking of Dr. V; I heard she set sail again last week. Guess that means you’re both in the clear?”

Rupert rubbed his face and sighed. “Yeah, she said the mold looks benign and noncontagious; should be out of our bodies in a few more weeks.”

“The cake and the grass seemed normal, too,” Dave said quietly. “She couldn’t figure out where they’d come from, but none of it was dangerous.”

“Good,” Charles said, “that’s good.”

There was a moment of silence between the three of them. A bird flitted across the street, narrowly avoiding a car and settling into a nest hidden in the canopy of the patisserie. Everything that happened was still a complete mystery, one that neither Dave nor Rupert were keen on solving. The thought that the world could just suddenly swallow them whole and trap them forever was an unspoken fear between the two of them, but the thought that that same world could want to trap them forever…

“Uh, hey,” Charles said suddenly. “I heard Dr. V say that she took down all of Gadget Gabe’s stuff related to… that. And since then, those uh… ‘holes’ have been showing up less often. Maybe that place only existed because the Doorway was built in the first place?”

Rupert chewed on his lip “As long as all that mess stays behind us, I don’t rightly care. I’m just glad I have Davie back, and those bloody Toppats are behind bars.”

Charles sat up straighter. “Oh, actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“How’s that?”

“Apparently, we only arrested the Toppat’s Airship Division,” he explained. “The rest of the clan is still out there, though. Rumor has it that they’re making some sort of space station so they can rob any place on Earth without getting caught.”

Rupert glanced towards Dave. His eyes were hard and his lips were pressed in a line that quivered a bit now and then. He reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. Dave eased into the touch. “What’s that to do with us?”

Charles fiddled with the mouthpiece of his headphones. “The General was wondering if you planned to come back eventually.”

Rupert blinked at that. “He still wants me around?”

Charles gave him a soft smile. “He was really mad about everything that happened, but he really does like you. He likes how hard you work, and so do I. If you were thinking about coming back to the government, we could always use a hand getting rid of the Toppats for good.”

Rupert thought about that for a second. There had been things he liked about being in the military- strengthening his abilities, staying active, doing good for the world- and now that he had Dave back and Charles and the Bukowski Twins as friends (the twins tended to be on thin ice, though), he knew he was in a much better place mentally to get back into his career.

Dave couldn’t join the military, though. He’d only just passed the physical to join the police force at West Mesa, and after everything that happened, he was too much of a health risk to join the military too. Rupert knew that he couldn’t always stick by Dave’s side- sooner or later, they’d have to learn to handle themselves alone as part of the healing process- but he couldn’t help but worry that Dave might not be there if he looked away for too long. It had happened before, after all. What if it happened again?

“I…” Rupert looked up as Dave spoke quietly. “I like knowing where you are, Rupert. I like seeing you nearby and knowing you’re there. But I don’t want to hold you back, either. I know you love working, and I know you’re good at it, too.  I… I just…” Rupert squeezed his shoulder gently as Dave fiddled with his hands.

“Hey,” Charles said gently. “You two don’t need to make any decisions right now. You’ve got time; the General wants to wait until closer to launch time before attacking the Toppats, anyway. Something about the element of surprise and them all being in the same place, y’know?”

“Right,” Rupert said, looking at Dave. “We’ve got time.”

Dave gave him a watery smile. “We’ve got time,” he repeated. There was a sudden gurgling sound, which made him blush and lower his head. “I… think I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Charles said, standing from his seat. “Let’s get something to eat already! I hear they’ve got pancakes!”

“Pancakes?” Rupert repeated, raising his eyebrows. “We’re at a patisserie, and you want pancakes?”

“Pancakes are a desert in some countries!” Charles exclaimed, pointing insistently at the entrance. “But we’re not going to get anything if we don’t go already!”

“Alright, alright,” Rupert sighed, standing up with a tired smile on his face. “You go in first, we’ll be right there.”

As Charles rushed into the store, Dave stood slowly from his seat, reaching out for Rupert’s arm instantly. Rupert drew him into a hug and gently nuzzled against his neck. Dave chuckled softly. “Do you think they have crepes?” he asked quietly.

“Absolutely. Think they’ll have scones?”

“Definitely.”

“Then let’s not wait, love.”

Dave squeezed him once more, then pulled back just enough to plant a kiss on his lips. He pulled Rupert’s arm gently, leading him towards their sugary destiny together.

The End