Chapter Text
Kepler, WV — Winter, 2015
There really is no other word for the building asides from charming. It's nestled into the pines up through the winding roads and it barely resembles a lodge or inn but an actual home. Firewood is stacked neatly on the east side of the building along with a well-used fire pit. The west side of the building has a rocky path around to the back with an overgrown garden along it. Perhaps it was a well intentioned attempt that was abandoned.
Barclay looks at his watch. Six in the morning is an outrageous time to check in. Most places don't even have rooms ready until far later in the afternoon.
He figures at least now he knows it's here and he can return later, after exploring the town, or to figure out exactly what that ominous monster museum he'd driven past earlier houses. Though, he doubts a monster museum has much reason to be open at six in the damn morning either. The general store is probably also closed in a town this small.
Regardless, Barclay decides to leave for now. Maybe he can get a tea or coffee somewhere. The rain makes the idea of hiking not too alluring, but it does make the idea of reading one of his books while laying comfortably in his car with a hot drink call to him.
But his bad luck isn't over and turning the key in the ignition multiple times just to have the stupid hunk of junk stubbornly refuse to start up tells Barclay he's stuck here. At least until he could get a jump.
He looks at his watch again. 6:07 AM. He could still read for a few hours. Even take a nap, though there is still the concern of letting his guard down while parked in front of this unsuspecting lodge.
Many times Barclay has made people uncomfortable with his seemingly strange behaviour. It makes sense. He's a big guy, even with the disguise, and he would sometimes stumble out of the woods or accidentally find himself near someone's campsite and it's creepy. He gets it. The best he can do in those sorts of situations is make sure people know he's there to not scare them, then apologize and leave.
There's only one other vehicle in the parking area of Amnesty Lodge. He has to assume it's the owner or manager. Maybe nobody else is staying here, or maybe this is a trick. Inviting, sure, then next thing he knows is that he's stuck in the basement being fed scraps.
Okay, that's catastrophizing again, Barclay.
He tries to start the engine again, knowing that it won't work. if anything, he's draining the battery even more so.
In the end, he makes the decision to sit and read in the front seat so that he's at least visible and doesn't freak anyone out who dares move closer.
So he does so, entranced in the story that takes him far away from where he is now. It's a romance, but it's also filled with mystery, one that may involve the love interest in a way the protagonist hopes can't be true. Barclay is on the edge of his seat, anxiously turning the pages when he hears a loud knock and a figure show up in his peripheral. He jumps, screams almost (at least some startled sound came out of his mouth).
The knock came from a surprisingly imposing figure, even for Barclay, who stands outside the driver's side door. It's a middle aged woman— maybe mid-fifties, wearing a large duster that makes her look even larger and more intimidating. Barclay would laugh at himself for being so spooked by her, if there wasn't a huge possibility that he's overstayed his welcome in what he can assume may be her driveway.
He reaches over to unwind the window just a smidge for a conversation.
"Uh, hi there," Barclay greets awkwardly.
"You feel like explainin' to me why you've been camped up in front of my lodge for hours?" It's a demand, and one that works in its purpose to remind Barclay he doesn't belong here.
"I wanted to— I was gonna go book a room? But I figured it was too early," he explains the truth rather easily.
The woman nods as if she doesn't quite buy it, "You here for that Cryptonomica shit? Monster huntin'?"
"Huh? Oh, the— no, I'm just passing through here," he isn't confused as to why she asks that. If this really is supposed to be a sort of safe haven for sylphs, then it makes sense for her to be wary, "But, that Cryptonomica— no offense, but isn't that just one of those tourist trap sort of deals?"
"Yeah, certainly somethin' like that," She responds, very clearly eyeing him over. It sets him on edge and he knows she's picking up on how anxious and flighty he is.
Before he can respond, she says, "Well, it ain't too early now. Coming up on ten o'clock. How long you lookin' to stay? Just the night?"
"Oh," He didn't think about that. The idea is he'd stay on the long term if this is the right place but he just said he was only passing through, "Around a week maybe? If that's... If you have the space— I know I said I'm just passing through, but my car is..." He sighs, "I have to get this thing fixed and I—"
"You don't gotta explain your personal shit. We can do a week," She finally takes a few steps away from his car and nods her head towards the door, "But if you wanna keep using the driveway, come and check in first."
Barclay nods, and reaches over to the glovebox to grab his wallet and replace it with his book. It's not in all the way and the glovebox just falls back open without latching. Barclay mutters a 'forget it' to himself, and throws the driver's door open. The woman, who he can now figure is the owner has already returned through the front doors.
He follows after her, nearly tripping over his own feet, and as he follows her through the wooden door just ahead of the porch steps, Barclay is first hit with the smell of pancakes or perhaps waffles from what must be the kitchen off to the right side of the room. There's a fireplace situated in the middle with tables and lounging chairs and the way the sun reflects off of everything through the skylight, makes the place feel even more welcoming. Two people are sitting at a table playing some sort of card game and drinking out of miss-matched mugs. It feels more like a home than a lodge. Which Barclay supposes is the entire point.
He's not going to mention anything about his real situation, keeping the cards to himself until he knows for certain this is the right place for him. Even if it is filled with sylphs, he can't know it will be right for him. Nor that they would want to house such a huge liability. His track record isn't exactly the best for staying out of trouble.
Barclay meets the woman at the front desk and pulls out his license— a fake ID he'd worked hard to get made for him. It's meant to be believable to most everyone except law enforcement.
But she's staring at it much longer than expected and it makes him nervous. The longest few seconds pass though, and she takes down the information, sliding the card back towards him.
"Barclay, a pleasure. I'm Madeline, though most folks round here call me Mama. So you hear that, y'know who they're talkin' about."
It doesn't sound like it's a pleasure. And he has to assume he was not just invited to use her affectionate nickname. Again he worries that this is a trap. It can't possibly be, right? Barclay subtly pulls his coat sleeve over his bracelet, as if wearing an accessory of any sort would give himself away.
"A pleasure, yeah."
Barclay knows it's suspicious that he's paying up front with cash, so he explains that he took the money out since he wasn't sure what would be available in the radio quiet zone. It's a fair assumption they may not be able to run credit or debit cards (even if he did own one).
She seems to accept that explanation, though she's still giving him this look and it almost makes him want to just leave. But it's a good thing that she's cautious towards outsiders. That sounds safe. That sounds exactly like what he needs.
Barclay wishes there was some way to know what really is going on around here without putting himself out there. What if he's expected to prove it? What if this is a trap? He'd been told that the owner, a human, is slow to trust, but Barclay can say the same about himself after all those years.
Even if he doesn't end up revealing his identity, the place is still quaint and relaxing. A nice and welcome break, for however long he can afford it. Money has been hard to come by; there's not many jobs he can find without a social security number, especially not in this day and age.
•••
For the first couple of days, Barclay keeps to himself and ignores the fact that his car isn't running for now. He could ask Madeline for a jump, but there's something in the way she looks at him that's unsettling, like she knows he has a secret.
So he puts it off.
Spending time reading alone in his room is very counterintuitive to investigating if this place is really right for him but he rationalizes it, as seeing if the bedroom space was the right 'vibe' for him. He knows it's bullshit and he's just avoiding it all. The room is cozy and the curtains are thick. The door locks securely and Barclay is grateful for even this small level of privacy. Running off into the woods to hide had never been ideal.
Another aspect of the place is the welcoming and convenient hot springs at the back of the building. It's perfect, and it's presence and frequent use points Barclay towards the fact that sylphs really do lodge here. He's also kept track of accessories that are always kept on. The young woman he's heard called 'Dani' has a ring he never sees her without and the woman at the piano nearly every day always has her hair up in a pin. It could just be a coincidence; many humans have favorite accessories but it feels unlikely, especially since he's been told directly that this place houses sylphs. Another, and possibly most curious thing is that he hasn't seen anyone checking out; it's the same people day in and day out for the entirety of the week. It could also be a coincidence that they are all staying at the same time as him, but again, unlikely.
It's around a forty-five minute walk, if he cuts through the forest, to get to the general store. He's been told that anyone staying there is welcome to use the kitchen and he debates if cold ingredients will be fine for the stroll back (and no, he still hasn't dealt with his car).
The temptation to actually cook something is far too high for him to ignore. When he looks into his wallet, however, the lack of funds distresses him. He could either stay an extra day or be able to make food for himself and possibly, hopefully others. It's the only real way he can think of to try making connections He decides the food is worth it and starts his walk into town.
The general store is about what one would expect for a small town, but the vegetables are above par and he loads his basket with them. He tries to remember the spices he's seen in the cabinet back at the lodge, hoping he doesn't have to buy any, since those can get real expensive real fast.
Checking out, the person up front, an older man with a fairly intense New York accent is very talkative and does make Barclay feel comfortable, the most welcome he's felt since being there. But he also knows he only has himself to blame.
"You just travelin' through or what?" he asks at one point.
"I'm... not too sure," Barclay answers honestly, but adds to it before he can be asked, "It's a bit up in the air how long I'll be around."
"Either way, hope your stay's pleasant," he says, "I got this new loaf in? If ya like banana bread, you'll kill for some o' this."
The cashier (owner?) points to a tray at the side of the counter with sample cups of a beautifully moist pastry.
"Oh, yeah I'll try it. What is it?"
"It's pumpkin loaf. Sounds dry and gross but apparently they use that real cream cheese in it, really kicks the flavor up a notch," he tells him, just as Barclay reaches for a cup.
"Oh," Barclay drops the cup and recoils, "Sorry, I'm allergic."
One of the most poisonous things for sylphs on Earth is squash. Before passing through the gate, he was told a number of important rules of survival and that was a significant one. Even just touching the cup, Barclay wants to wash his hands.
"A damn shame. Fall must be rough, huh?"
"Yeah, can't be too careful," he says simply, then waves and heads out.
•••
On his walk returning to the lodge, Barclay questions why he feels so unwelcome and if it's because he's set up high expectations for a supposed safe haven, or if he truly doesn't belong.
Besides, It's really just Madeline who makes him uncomfortable. The way she watches him is subtle but not subtle enough for the Bigfoot whose life has frequently set him on edge around anyone paying close attention to him. And even in his human disguise, Barclay is a big and imposing figure, and not exactly someone who can easily fade into the background.
He asks himself what the point is in finding this place if he doesn't risk sharing what he is, but pushes the logical thought aside. He can tell the others are giving him a wide berth, but regardless, if they really are sylphs, which is what his gut is pointing towards, then Barclay wants to socialize a bit more if he can.
The night before the his last one, he gets carried away making a big pot of soup. It's a lot of soup but it's a hearty vegetable one that can do no wrong. Having far more than what he knows to do with was definitely on purpose and he's going to try to connect the only way he feels he can at this point: feeding people.
"Uh hey," Barclay approaches a table in the lobby that a few of them are sitting at. They look at him cautiously, one of them waving, then the rest giving a chorus of obligatory greeting.
"I made a lot of soup, like a lot. So I figured I'd ask if you lot wanted any? It's vegetable. I didn't say that before but it's a vegetable soup."
They exchange glances and Barclay looks down and away, awkwardly before he hears the one named Dani speak up, "Really? You sure?"
"I can't aff— uh, my last day here is tomorrow so I'm not gonna finish it," He says, looking back up to the table. A genuine smile crosses his face, finding the pleasure in sharing food fairly comforting no matter the circumstances.
When he sees Madeline enter the lobby from outside, piling firewood next to the fireplace, he braves opening the invitation to her as well.
"It's going to go to waste anyway. It's not exactly like I can bring soup with me on the road," He explains.
"Speaking of the road," She folds her arms, "Have you gotten your ride looked at yet? Haven't seen it move or anyone come to work on it."
Barclay thanks the forces that be for an opportunity to ask, "Uh, no. Actually I realized I need a jump a few days ago. I've just— anyway, is there any way you could help me with that?"
Barclay watches her response cautiously, as she's watching him. She actually smiles, which takes him off guard.
"Yeah I can do that," She eventually says, "There's a used car dealership down in town but they do repairs as long as it ain't anything particularly nasty."
"Oh. Perfect," he says, in spite of having zero money left. The car runs aside from the battery drain, so Barclay will be able to leave at the very least.
Then he wonders if his car could be worth anything. It's good to have wheels but if he can't afford the gas for it, what's the point? With that, maybe he could stick around town longer. Though he knows it's suspicious to do so. It's a hard decision to make and the more he thinks about it, the more stress piles on.
"That'll be my payment for you feeding these guys," She nods towards the group in the lobby, who have already grabbed their bowls, "And myself."
She offers the faintest of smiles that fades away, dissolving quickly as she starts towards the kitchen.
•••
Barclay only has one more day and feels as though he's barely learned anything. Or perhaps he's learned enough but fear is gripping him by the throat and screaming at him to run again.
He finally decides that his current hunk of junk car isn't worth holding onto and he's gotten by without his own ride before. Madeline helps Barclay in jumping his car's battery with her truck's and he thanks her, feeling only a bit guilty for misleading her into thinking he's actually pressed to get the thing fixed. If he can have even the slightest bit more money, he can get on a bus somewhere if he does leave, which may be more likely.
So he stays that one extra night, lying about when he's getting his car back. He can simply walk into the woods and hole up in there. It's the worst situation to be hiding out in the woods. He's done it plenty before but it doesn't get any easier and the isolation is ruinous. The person who had directed Barclay to Amnesty Lodge was right about everything and everything in him wants this to work out, but then he can't quite figure out why he's not working to make it happen.
Needing to clear his head, Barclay decides to take a dip in the springs. He notices Dani is in there, and almost turns away but braves it anyway, knowing he needs to actually talk to these people, and he really needs the recharge.
They greet one another when he lowers himself into the water across from her, wanting to give her space, and after a few minutes, he decides to break the quiet tension.
"Do you mind if I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to I'm just curious."
It takes her a moment fidgeting before nodding and Barclay is uncomfortable for having clearly made her uncomfortable,
"Yeah, sure."
"So, I, uh, guess you and the others pretty much stay here more full time, I'm getting the feeling."
"Is there a question in there?"
"Oh yeah, I just, uhm, do you like it here?
"Yeah, I think so. It's a bit different than where I lived before. It's been a bit of an adjustment? But yeah, I mean I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."
Barclay notices how she answers, the same as he answers questions like that: wanting to give a genuine answer but trying to avoid the real truth of the matter. He doesn't bother asking any follow up questions, knowing exactly how uncomfortable that can be.
He can assume she did come from Sylvain and, unfortunately, judging by how she's answering the question, Dani may not have had a choice in it.
"It can be hard to adjust to new places. Changing your routine and then having to forge new relationships... I get it," he sympathizes.
Dani hesitates for a moment before asking, "What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah, do you like it here?"
"It's nice. Tranquil. And having access to a hot springs— it's a bit of a luxury," he's pretty sure even someone who doesn't need it to survive would say the same thing, "I'll miss it and I'm gonna miss having a kitchen too."
"Where are you from? If you don't mind me asking."
Barclay takes a breath, knowing now would be a good time to possibly hint at him being a Sylph but he chickens out, resorting to his regular, "Around the west coast mostly. But I've been traveling, looking for... something."
Well, almost his regular.
"Something like what?"
"I guess I'll know it when I see it?"
Dani looks at him curiously, but seems to land on changing the topic, "That soup, by the way, was very good. It's been a while since we've had real home cooked meals
Barclay smiles, "I can make something else tomorrow. I have some groceries I need to use up anyway.
"That would be really great actually. Uh do you mind if I ask what?"
"Oh. Shepherds pie. Corn, cheese, mashed potatoes, ground beef. That sort of thing," he answers. Just thinking about it makes him crave it.
Dani seems interested, "That sounds great. Never had that, but it sounds like some good pie."
"Really, never? You're gonna love it."
•••
It's a fair bit early but Barclay is about to get started on dinner, enthusiastic to get lost in cooking. It's only a shepherds pie but it has enough moving parts to keep him contently occupied. Though, unfortunately, he'd made the grave error of assuming there was butter in the fridge, so needs to return to the general store. The walk through the forest down into town is fairly enjoyable and Barclay takes his time, knowing he can make food as late as he wants; it seems they all tend to eat late anyway. Barclay takes a longer walk through the main street as well, admiring the way the town all fits together. After he's wasted enough time, Barclay grabs his butter from the general store, then runs into a local bakery where he treats himself to a chocolate muffin for his walk back with the last of his money.
It's not too bad of a walk back to the lodge in spite of it being entirely uphill. He's got long legs and is no stranger to a steep hike. But, not even halfway through his walk, Barclay's stomach starts cramping. It's that tight cramp that feels worse every time he takes a step. At first, he assumes it's a result of him eating too quickly before hiking, but taking a break doesn't help and he's left feeling worse, but hoping he can still get dinner made.
There's also the thought that he could walk it off, get some blood pumping and maybe it will settle.
Just around the last bend before Amnesty comes into view is when Barclay can't deny any longer that nothing's getting better and he has to accept that he can't cook tonight. Not only is he in pain, but he's starting to feel nauseous, which he has to assume is either from just from the cramping pain or, more likely, that muffin didn't sit too well with him. But it still feels like an extreme response for a muffin. It definitely tasted fresh and was still warm when he had it.
Or it could be a fast onset flu, though he's gotten the flu before, and it's felt similar to this, but not nearly as debilitating.
Climbing up the last little curve of road towards Amnesty, he's moving a lot slower now, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed.
When he turns the bend, he sees the steps to the lodge, and the one they call Jake Cool-Ice stepping out with his board, seemingly in a rush to be somewhere.
Though, in spite of that, Jake pauses when he sees Barclay.
"Woah, dude, are you okay?"
That obvious, huh?
"I don't know," he answers simply, "I'm gonna go lay down."
Yet Jake just stands there still with an expression that Barclay can't read past his sunglasses, "No offense, but you seriously look like shit. Y'know your eyes are all red, right? Like real freaky like."
"They're what?" Barclay groans in pain, not waiting for an answer before just walking past him to get inside.
There is that sneaking suspicion that this might actually be serious. If it didn't hit him so violently and so quickly, he wouldn't be this scared about it. It feels like his entire insides are revolting against him.
Barclay rushes through the lobby when the nausea hits him hard, not stopping until he makes it to the bathroom. After securely locking the door, he looks in the mirror and notices that his eyes really are bloodshot. Something bad is happening and he can't see a doctor. Even if he could afford it, there's nobody on Earth who would be able to help him; not only is he a sylph, he's not even one of the typical ones. There's benefits to being so different but when it comes to health, he can focus on are the negatives.
For just a moment, he takes off his bracelet to get a look at his real body in the mirror but it's essentially the same red eyes.
Barclay only gets to look at himself for a few seconds before he has to lean over the toilet bowl to empty the entire contents of his stomach. Disgusting. And concerning. Is that blood?
Suddenly there's a hard knock at the bathroom door and the harsh stern voice of Madeline calls his name from the other side.
"Barclay?"
While ignoring that, he also hears others on the outside of the door though he can't make out what's being said.
"Barclay. "
Barclay groans out an agitated, "I'll be right out."
Then it hits him again and he leans over the bowl to empty out what is essentially just stomach acid now. Now his throat is raw and sore and his stomach pain isn't getting any better.
He flushes the toilet and shakily puts his bracelet back on when there's another loud knock on the door. This time is startles him bad.
"Fuck," he curses under his breath, though anyone with ears could hear him, and moves to open the door, leaning heavily against the door frame.
The way everyone looks at him makes Barclay think that he didn't put his bracelet back on and he has to look down quickly to recognize that he did. Madeline is at the front, the one who was knocking on the door and Jake and Dani are lingering nearby. He feels enough like shit that he doesn't even feel embarrassed or anxious for once.
"I must've ate something bad," He explains, eyes diverted away from any of them, towards the stairs.
"Alright. I'm finished playing this damn charade," Madeline announces, "Right before you got sick, what'd you eat?"
"Why do you care?" Barclay regrets saying it, the second it comes out, "Fuck, I'm sorry. That was rude."
"You can walk, right?" She seems to simply ignore his rude comment.
"Huh? Yeah."
"Follow me," she takes a step towards the front of the lodge and, when she notices Barclay is still watching her, leaning against the door frame, she adds, "That's not a request."
He wants nothing more but to curl up on his bed and fall asleep but it sounds like she might have something to ease his pain or she knows that it's serious— a worse truth. And the idea of climbing the stairs is very daunting.
So he follows her as she walks outside, holding the door open for him to stumble through.
"I know you're in pain but, Barclay, this is serious. Tell me what you ate," She moves towards the doors at the side exterior of the lodge, like some sort of bunker or basement.
"Uh, I ordered a muffin from that little bakery behind the general store."
"A muffin?" She seems confused, as though that wasn't the answer she expected him to give.
"I think it was chocolate or—"
"Zucchini chocolate?"
"Maybe? There could've been a 'Z' in there."
"Well, I have good news and bad news."
When Barclay doesn't respond, not having it in him to make too many words come out, she continues.
"Bad news is that you've definitely been poisoned. But the good news is that you're in the best place you could possibly be if you're gonna get yourself poisoned and you ain't gonna die."
"Oh, great. I'll be sure to avoid their muffins next time."
He follows her down the steps but looking down them, he's getting disoriented, holding himself close to the wall.
Madeline keeps looking back at him, "Unless you fall down the steps. Can't help you then."
Barclay groans. Is that supposed to be comforting?
When he finally makes it to the bottom landing, he can actually see what the area is. It is closer to a bunker than a basement. Though, there is a table and a couch in the main room along with shelving and a desk in the corner. Then the room offshoots in two different directions, the left of which, Barclay catches the back of Madeline's coat as she disappears down it.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself."
Barclay figures that's another non-request but is perfectly content to collapse onto the couch in the corner.
He's always careful when he lays himself down on furniture; being three hundred and some odd pounds of Bigfoot leads to many broken chairs and couches.
But, unfortunately, he hears a small crack when he finally sits down, curling up with his hands over his stomach as if that's going to make a difference.
When another pang runs through him, he genuinely wants to cry. The pain in his gut is horrible and the nauseous feeling is not passing in spite of him not exactly having anything left in his stomach to make him sick.
All he can think is you're not gonna die on repeat, while Madeline putters around in the other room.
When she returns, Barclay turns his head to look over to her.
"Sit up."
"Yeah, alright," he does so slowly, really trying not to make the crack in the couch, wherever it is, any bigger.
She has a cup of something clear, warm, and viscous, which surprises him when he takes the cup, and two pills in her other hand that she drops into his.
Barclay looks curiously at what he's been given and sniffs the cup but it doesn't have any sort of smell.
"It's a remedy for squash poisoning straight from the other side of the gate," Madeline explains and he cautiously looks up at her. She doesn't give anything away in her expression, but he's embarrassed about being essentially called out. She must have known for a while.
Barclay grimaces and takes the pills and downs the... strange liquid. It doesn't have a taste thank God, but it leaves a weird sort of film in his mouth.
"Wait. Zucchini's a squash?"
"Sure is."
He hands her the empty cup and she places it on the table behind her as he moves to lay on his side.
"It's gonna take a while to feel better, but like I said, you ain't gonna die."
"Thanks," he mutters, closing his eyes and trying to get through the pain. It's awkward as all hell but at least he's distracted, right?
"You're welcome to lay down here 'til you feel up to moving," she says, a bit further away than she had been, "If you wanna have a chat about all this later, you're welcome to that also."
Barclay simply nods slowly, not sure if she's even looking at him, but he can thank her more appropriately later.
The questions that run through his head are many, but one he's stuck on is how she got anything over from Sylvain. Is there some sort of arrangement? He supposes if so many sylphs safely lodge here, there might be. Barclay was also told the gate had moved close by here as well. It really sinks in just how lucky he is. Madeline was right when she'd said he was in the best place to accidentally ingest squash.
He ends up falling asleep laying on the couch and he can't say for how long. When he opens his eyes, he realizes the lights had been turned off and the space is only illuminated by a long strip of lights underneath the counters.
Sitting up, he feels a bit dizzy still but his stomach pain is a lot less debilitating. Now the irrational panic sets in with the concern that this is a trap and he's stuck down here. But it doesn't make much sense if Madeline knew for a while and didn't do anything about it. Additionally, though he's only spent a week at Amnesty, gets the feeling people like it here. And the person who directed him to this unassuming little town didn't seem to have malicious intent.
"Get out of your head, Barclay," He mutters to himself. The paranoia is a learned behavior that he'd rather leave behind if he can help it. This is the most likely place he could possibly be safe. Dani definitely felt that way in spite of clearly being homesick.
Looking around he doesn't see a bathroom down in the bunker, so, reluctantly, he climbs up the stairs. He's taken by surprise to see that it's dark when he opens the doors to outside. Didn't he get back around three in the afternoon? That damn muffin really screwed him up, didn't it?
He feels a bit ridiculous, having been on earth since the fifties and having never had a zucchini before. Not even knowing he couldn't have it. He sort of assumed it was a type of root vegetable or maybe a denser type of cucumber. But he knows to avoid squash. Butternut, spaghetti, and pumpkin are the three main ones that come to mind.
The idea of having a conversation with Madeline about everything is daunting, especially with her clearly waiting for Barclay to tell her he was a sylph himself, but how was he meant to know the place is safe for him? It's not like he was directed right out the gate like he assumes everyone else at the lodge was. He got kicked out into the woods of the pacific northwest with nothing but a disguise and the clothes on his back.
Entering the lobby from outside, Barclay has to smile even a little at just how warm everything is. Not just the fireplace that's set crackling in the middle of the room, but Moira sitting next to Jake at a table, playing some sort of game. Then there's Dani drawing in her sketchbook. The way the moon shines in through the skylights reflects off the water glass by Dani's side rather beautifully and he really does find the ambience comforting.
Madeline is nowhere to be found, but he isn't exactly over-eager to have that conversation with her anyway.
Moira looks up at Barclay and holds a hand up in greeting. The way she does it makes him think he's being invited over, but he needs the bathroom first. He mimics the gesture but then turns towards the bathroom before joining them.
"How're you feeling?" Jake asks when Barclay slumps down carefully in the seat next to them.
"Uh. Better. Thanks. And I guess thanks for telling Madeline. I was annoyed at the time but..."
"But it saved your ass?"
"Yeah."
"Barclay?" Moira's voice is light and airy, and easy to listen to. The way she says his name makes him feel just that slightest bit less awkward.
He meets her eyes, "Mm. Yeah?"
"Maybe this isn't any of my business, but you must have known what this place was. I suppose it could have been some strange coincidence, but it's doubtful," she says, "Why hide from us?"
Glancing to Dani and Jake, he sees the same sort of curious expression. He knows it's not intended to be judgemental but it still feels that way.
"Safety? I mean, I'm not about to reveal that stuff about myself unless— until I know I'm safe. Have you never had a close call or trusted the wrong people or anything?"
"Almost?" Jake answers, though it seems more like he's reaching for a relatable experience. The others two shake their heads slowly.
"It's fine if you haven't. I mean its better if you haven't. I've just had it rough. Or I guess I've been irresponsible. Whatever the reason, it's a precaution. I wasn't trying to trick you or anything," Barclay explains, still feeling a bit like he's being judged, but he pushes that away.
"You don't have to keep talking about it. I'm just relieved," Moira comments.
"Relieved?"
"When someone comes to stay here, we're all a bit on edge. Just taking extra precautions. The same as you. Even though we all sort of suspected it, technically we didn't know for sure, right? You're a bit of an unknown."
"Oh shit. I'm sorry," it didn't occur to Barclay that he was putting them on edge but it makes so much sense when Moira says it.
"We can move on from it now, then. Besides, it was only a week. We've had to be cautious with guests for far longer than that in the past."
"Are you really going to leave tomorrow?" Dani asks before he can process what Moira said.
"I don't know. I hadn't made a decision yet. And Madeline was sorta freaking me out? I mean, the way she looks at me like she's looking forward to me leaving or something," Barclay knows that everyone here adores her so he doesn't particularly want to speak ill of her.
"To be fair, she was definitely keeping a close eye on you. Waiting for you to explain why you're here."
There's a lot to consider if he tries to stay. First off, he's also all out of cash, meaning he may only be able to visit here and there unless he can get himself some work. At the very least, Amnesty could be a nice safe getaway for when he needs it.
Though then he has to factor in bringing the danger here. Danger seems to follow him everywhere he goes. Maybe it's not fair to them.
"Do you want us to deal you in?" Jake asks.
"What are we playing?"
Moira laughs, "Good question. I'm not quite sure. Jake made it up. I don't think the game's balanced though."
"We're play testing it, okay?" Jake explains.
Barclay is honestly grateful to be included, though he's very aware he had the opportunity earlier had he not been so fearful.
"Yeah, alright! I'll give it a go— wait. What time is it?" Barclay looks at his wrist, which does not have his watch on it. He must've taken it off at some point.
"Uh, nine?" Jake looks up to and squints at what must be a clock behind them, "Or close to it."
"Nine? I've been asleep for six hours?"
"If it makes you feel any better, your insides were basically ripping you apart," Jake says cooly.
"Oh yeah. That does make me feel better."
"Really?"
"No, but it's the thought that counts or something. I'll still play a game."
In just that short amount of time with the others who lodge here, Barclay starts to see the vision of him actually maybe staying. It's a bit uncomfortable that he had to poison himself to get here, but it's nice.
Later, though, when he crawls into bed an hour and a half later, Barclay rethinks it; it's probably not the poisoning per se but the fact that he wasn't harboring this massive secret anymore and there wasn't as big of a divide. He still has a pretty big secret but that's for another day, maybe.
•••
Check-out usually comes in the late morning and Barclay is always on time, never wanting to be caught unaware.
This morning, however, he begs for exception, waking at nearly ten. He counts the hours he's been unconscious in the past twenty-four hours and it's nearly fifteen. Is that really how long it takes for a sylvan body to fix itself from severe squash poisoning? Maybe it's different for him specifically.
He's very groggy and tries not to beat himself up too much for being so slow to get put together. Looking in the mirror, he notices his eyes aren't so red anymore. It's looking up.
Dreading that inevitable conversation with Madeline, Barclay reluctantly leaves his room. There's a warm draft rising along the second floor railing directly in front of Barclay's room, or the one he's renting out he supposes. It's much too warm for him but still carries a welcoming sensation as the rest of the lodge does. A part of him is really truly hoping this could be home.
"Mornin'!"
Barclay looks down the rail to see Jake Cool-Ice waving up at him from one of the lobby couches with a magazine gripped in his hands. It's surprising to see the guy inside at this time of day, at least in the week Barclay has known him. Originally, he'd assumed maybe Jake had a job, but turns out he has a big group of friends that do a bunch of stunts together. Barclay heard Jake talk about it a few times here and there but he isn't quite sure he fully understands what said 'stunts' even are.
Barclay waves back before descending the stairs. He can check in with Madeline later.
"I'm technically supposed to be out of here in, what?" Barclay looks up at the clock in the main room, "forty minutes or so."
"I'm sure you could ask for an extension."
Barclay turns to see Dani sitting at a chair drawing in her sketchbook. He didn't notice her earlier from the angle of the stairs.
"Yeah maybe. I guess it all depends on, uh..."
"If you want to?" Jake suggests.
Or if Madeline wants me to, he thinks. Instead, Barclay shrugs, "I never got around to making dinner yesterday but the ingredients are still in the kitchen— even if I don't stay, maybe she'll let me use the kitchen?"
"She will," He says confidently.
"You think?"
"Yuh-huh."
"Huh?"
"Yuh."
Barclay is confused, and looks to Dani for a translation but she's already back into her art. He's very curious what it is she draws and makes a mental note to ask her when she's not so invested.
"I'm starving..." Barclay comments, looking towards the kitchen doors in longing. He hasn't eaten since that muffin that he didn't even digest properly anyway.
"She'll probably let you stay for breakfast too," Jake says. He's nearly giggling at Barclay and he feels like maybe it's some inside joke he isn't privy to.
Without much ado, Barclay moves into the kitchen and makes himself the simplest of omelettes. Mushrooms would really kick the dish up a notch but he'd run low on money at the general store. Maybe he should have got the mushrooms instead of that damn muffin.
After he's put it off as long as he possibly can, it's time to bite the...bandaid? No, it's 'bullet', but now he's stuck trying to remember the idiom with a bandaid.
He'd seen Madeline come downstairs at one point when he started eating, met her eyes then immediately looked down at his plate, embarrassed at himself for being so anxious about the whole thing.
He'd since noticed her head back upstairs, likely in her office space or bedroom. He questions if he should just wait for her to come out again but remembers that she did say he was welcome to a conversation and technically he's supposed to already be gone.
No more delay, Barclay climbs the steps to knock at her office door.
When he doesn't hear anything in the first five seconds, his legs are ready to just flee, but he hears a 'one second', from further away, likely an adjoining room, and so he waits, hands shoved into his pockets, as if he didn't appear awkward enough already.
The door unlocks and Madeline opens the way for Barclay to come in without a word.
"I'm here to, uh, thank you, first off, for helping me out yesterday," He starts, and Madeline closes the door behind him.
"The idea of dragging a dead body out from upstairs didn't sit too well with me, so it worked out for both of our sakes," is what she says but when he frowns, looking over to her desk, clearly feeling bad about the whole affair, she adds, "But you're welcome all the same. Like I said, you're in the best place for it.
"Now, Barclay, if you're ready to address the elephant that's been here in the lodge for a week, we can talk about it."
He sighs, looking up at her now, trying not to seem too ashamed of himself.
"Yeah, alright. I, uh, I've had it rough since I came here, a while back. Wait, okay, I have to be straight with you about something though—"
"How about you take a seat 'stead of standing there like a dog feeling sorry for itself," She sits down at her desk, and gestures for him to do the same, as she leans back in her chair. It creaks and serves as a reminder for Barclay to sit down carefully and he succeeds.
"Right. Actually, let me start over. I met a sylph earlier this month who told me about this place, and I wanted to scout it out, but then it got a bit nerve-wracking? I mean, I've never experienced something— I was making sure it wasn't a trap, I guess. Which is why I kept quiet."
She's looking him down not unlike she has before but he can see a softness to her eyes that either wasn't there before or that he hadn't noticed until now.
"And you see how that put everyone else on edge. Doesn't matter that your 'secret' was docile or not, you've got that look about you, that you're hidin' something. You coulda been the trap, right?"
"Right."
"So, you came out of the gate back up in New York then?"
"Uhh, no? When was it in New York?"
After he answers, Barclay wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. She's very perceptive and her expression gives nothing away. He should probably follow suit.
That said, if he's going to warn her about him risking their safety, he's going to be giving a rather big hint anyway.
"Hello? Barclay? You in?"
"Huh? Oh. Sorry, I— what did you say?"
So much for his expressions giving nothing away.
"I said I dunno how long it was up there, but gate's been here since '86."
"Oh."
"I'm not askin' you to give me your whole life story, that's not what this is about," She says, "It's about making sure you folks are safe. That's the priority. So, in spite of you keeping that shit to yourself, it's still an option, whether you want it or not."
"I appreciate that, really, but there's two things, the first being that I'm running low on money right now? I spent the last on groceries and that damn muffin," he has to let out a chuckle, laugh at himself for it, "But maybe I could come back sometime?"
"Jesus Christ," Madeline pulls one of the drawers open and pulls out an envelope with 'Barclay' written on it, slamming it down on the table and sliding it towards him. When he looks at it curiously, she says, "That's the cash you gave me. This ain't a hotel for sylphs, it's meant to be a sorta safe haven or what have you. And I had my suspicions about you so I kept it aside."
Barclay is genuinely taken aback. He supposes that makes sense, because otherwise he could just stay at any hotel for an extended period and call that home too if he wanted to.
"Thank you, really. I appreciate this a lot actually," he reaches for the envelope, though tentatively, as if she's going to take it back.
"Don't be buying no more poison with that but maybe it'll help cover the cost of those repairs," She tells him. A regretful feeling washes over Barclay but she continues before he can focus on that for long, "But you said there was a second thing."
"Right," he moves forward to sit at the edge of his seat, picking his words carefully, "I have to be honest about something, if you'll have me here, I mean."
She folds her hands in front of her, nodding in his direction to continue.
"I'm a liability. I mean I've gotten in trouble before, been seen by humans before and I've had to leave. And I worry if that happens here... I don't want to put anyone at risk."
"These humans, the ones who've seen you, they on your tail?"
Which ones out of the thousands I have seeking me out? He can't help but think.
"Not on my tail, no. I mean as long as I keep my bracelet on, nobody would know. I just have a track record of getting into... situations."
No need to mention which types of situations.
"So, nobody's gonna come knocking down the door looking for you, yeah?"
"Yeah, but—"
"And you don't make a habit of taking that thing off in public?"
"No... Well I used to? Places I didn't think people were," he explains, nervous about how much he's giving away.
"Then, you got a big mouth? Blabbing about things you shouldn't be? You sure kept your mouth shut this past week, so I'm gonna assume that's a 'No' as well," She reasons, "Doesn't seem like much of a liability to me. Unless you've got something else to hide?"
"Uh, like what?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be askin' but, Barclay, this place ain't an insurance broker. Accidents happen, sure, but as long as you keep that thing on and shut your mouth, you're welcome to stay."
The faintest smile crosses Barclay's face at the idea that he could stay, that maybe this could work out, that maybe he doesn't have to go run into the most isolated reaches of the wilderness to feel safe.
"I'd like that, a lot actually," he didn't give too much away, but it's definitely clear that he's never known kindness like this. And it's probably very clear, if he didn't know about the New York gate location, that he's been on Earth for a good number of years.
"Then first order of business: those groceries. We have a budget for that. Stop paying for shit. And second, do you need a ride to pick up your car?"
"Oh... Uh, it wasn't ever getting fixed actually. I— I lied about that," Barclay admits, grimacing.
"You lied about... What, exactly?"
Barclay scratches at his beard awkwardly, "I sold it?"
"You sold your car," she restates, clearly tired, "And you were planning on leaving today? "
"Yeah."
It's clear she doesn't really know what to say but that she's definitely filing the information in the back of her head that Barclay is still an unknown, his behaviors and choices not making much sense without the missing piece.
He had a plan, though the plan was very 'Bigfoot', to use the money for camping supplies and head out into the mountains, checking nearby towns for jobs every so often. It was basically what he's been doing the majority of his life at this point, and it very clearly wasn't working for him. And it was exactly why Barclay had searched for the only sylph he knew of that could possibly direct him in the right direction, to Amnesty Lodge: The Mothman.