Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1708196.

Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
M/M, Multi
Fandom:
Welcome to Night Vale
Relationship:
Carlos/Kevin (Welcome to Night Vale), Carlos/Cecil Palmer,
Carlos/Cecil/Kevin (Welcome to Night Vale)
Character:
Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Kevin (Welcome to Night Vale),
Cecil Palmer, Old Woman Josie, Earl Harlan, John Peters, Lauren
Mallard, Daniel (Welcome to Night Vale), Fey (Welcome to Night
Vale), Steve Carlsberg, Janice (Welcome to Night Vale), Tamika
Flynn, Cecil's Sister (Welcome to Night Vale), Larry Leroy, Erika
(Welcome to Night Vale), Dana (Welcome to Night Vale), Intern
Maureen (Welcome to Night Vale), Desert Bluffs John Peters
Additional Tags:
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Threesome,
Strexcorp
Series:
Part 1 of Chiralityverse
Stats:
Published: 2014-05-29 Completed: 2014-05-30 Chapters: 13/13
Words: 85931
On the Nature of Love and Chirality
by Shadow_Side
Summary
Carlos moves to Night Vale and finds himself slowly falling in love with Cecil. There's
just one problem: Carlos' ex
Kevin.
But then Strexcorp comes to town. Then Kevin comes to town. And if the battle for Night
Vale looks set to be difficult, it will be nothing compared to the battle for the heart of its
favourite scientist.
Notes
This I would like to blame this on my Kevin muse. I really would. I tried, too, but it
turned out for once that it wasn't him. Oh no. This one is Carlos' fault, and it's probably
best not to ask.
Warnings for: Smut. Angst. Trauma. Violence. If you've read my other NV stuff, you
might be a bit taken aback by this one. If you've read my other non-NV stuff probably
not so much. ;-)
Non-existent time-wise, this one covers quite a lot. It takes Episodes 1 to 42 as canon and
diverges after that, though includes additional points of canon from future episodes (44 in
particular. You know what I'm talking about!) It also takes the live show Condos as canon,
though not The Debate, because by the time that one was released, I'd already done my
own second meeting between Cecil and Kevin.
I started writing this back in March right before Episode 43 aired hence why I chose to
diverge there, and have been having ever-increasing emotional breakdowns as this fic
continued to mirror canon despite my attempts to AU it! I have, however, completely
avoided including the Mayoral Election, given that we all know canon is going that way.
For anyone who's interested in me rambling about my process, I'll put in a few author's
notes at the end of chapters which probably makes this a good time for me to stop
talking for now! ;-)
See the end of the work for more notes
The Thermodynamic Arrow of Time
The Thermodynamic Arrow of Time
The only physical evidence for the existence of time is entropy; that is, chaos.
***
This is not where it all begins.
Nor, indeed, is it where it all ends. The closest approximation of what this is would be to say that
it is both the beginning of where it ends, and the end of where it begins. And this includes leaving
aside the unreality of time, because that isn't a factor yet; although given the unreality of time it
is a factor, because if time isn't real, then nor is the concept of 'yet.'
Right now whatever 'now' means there is only this: only a room, in a house, in a town. The
room is dark, save for the low lights on each side of the bed, setting the desired mood without
going so far as to plunge the space into inoperable blackness. In the centre of the bed, a scientist
named Carlos lies on his back, his lover on top of him, inside him; slowly but expertly bringing
them both towards physical and emotional ecstasy.
The other man leans in, kissing along Carlos' jaw at the same time as taking hold of both of his
hands, pressing them down into the pillows either side of his head. The mere act alone sends a
thrill of anticipation running through Carlos, making him arch back a little, baring his throat to a
fresh onslaught of kisses that only make the need and the ever-increasing bliss feel all the more
wonderful, sparking off every last nerve-ending until his mind feels like it's going to overload.
"Are you close?" his lover says, right into his ear, and oh but the man's voice just drags Carlos
ever-onwards towards the edge.
"Yes," Carlos manages. "Yes. Please. Please don't stop."
"How could I ever deny you?" the other man murmurs, his voice like liquid sex; sunrise and
starlight and fire. "Just do one thing for me."
"Anything."
"Say my name when you come. Scream it to the rafters. There's nothing better in all the world"
Carlos smiles hazily up at his lover, nodding rather more than he needs to, so close now that he
can hardly think, can hardly see, and it's as though the whole fabric of the universe is unravelling;
tumbling to the floor in the room around them, falling away until there's nothing left but this: this
moment, this contact, this connection that is more than anything. More than everything.
And then it breaks. It shatters, in a moment of perfect, perfect bliss that blazes out into completion,
into incoherent delight, glorious and wonderful. And amidst it all, even though organised thought
is beyond him, Carlos manages to scream his lover's name in gratitude and happiness, just as he
promised; a name that has somehow become his whole world in just a few short months.
"Kevin!"
***
It's early the next morning.
Carlos is already up, wrapped in a dressing gown and standing at the window in Kevin's
bedroom, peering out through the gap in the curtains.
"You can open them, you know," comes a voice from the direction of the bed. "That way we
can both watch the sunrise."
Carlos glances back for a second. "I didn't want to wake you."
But he accepts the offer, pulling the curtains apart enough that he can look out properly; look out
at the strangest town he's ever seen in all his life.
Desert Bluffs.
Behind him, he hears Kevin rising to his feet, pulling on his own dressing gown before pacing
over. His lover steps in behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist and laying a soft kiss on
the curve of his neck.
"Well, good morning," Kevin whispers.
"Hey," Carlos breathes, pressing back against him. Just enjoying the contact, whilst he can.
He doesn't think he's ever going to get used to this view, whether he's looking at it from here or
from the little window in his own rented apartment. Desert Bluffs is an acquired taste, and it's
one that Carlos is not sure he could have acquired without help. If truth be told it freaks him out
a lot, even after several months of living here, and he's not at all confident he could have learned
to cope with all the blood and viscera and other things that just completely defy repetition were it
not for Kevin; Kevin, with his way of breezing through it all like it's completely normal, of
pushing past the sheer insanity and threat of the place to find the good things underneath. The
warmth. The community spirit.
The love.
They've been dating for a few months now having first met when Kevin interviewed Carlos for
a piece on his radio show after Carlos first moved to Desert Bluffs in order to study it and
Carlos wonders where it's all going. Is it love? The other man makes him feel more alive, more
happy than he has in years, and somehow manages to help Carlos see beyond the threatening
insanity of the town.
He'd been sceptical about coming here, after all. Very, very sceptical. But it was for science, and
sometimes you have to take huge risks for science.
And sometimes those risks pay off.
"It still freaks me out," he remarks, headtilting out the window at Desert Bluffs, which lies bathed
in the red glow of dawn; the first fingertips of light glittering on the blood that lines each exterior
surface, in clear defiance of every scientific law governing blood beyond the colour and the
texture.
"I know," Kevin replies, kissing his neck again. "But you're getting better at it. You seem to have
stopped having the dreams."
"Yeah," Carlos agrees. "I could do without those."
"I know. Although it was kinda cute, the way I sometimes used to wake up to find you clinging
to me."
"Less fun when I was alone in my own apartment, though."
"Ah, so that's why you're here practically every night now"
"You know why I'm here practically every night now" Carlos murmurs, a flicker of nervous
embarrassment in his voice.
"Sure I do," Kevin replies, brightly. "Because of that thing I can do that makes you scream my
name like it's the only word in your vocabulary."
"Besides that," Carlos says, though he's blushing rather a lot and it helps that he doesn't have to
look Kevin in the eyes.
"I know," Kevin says, softer again. "And I'm glad you are. Because I think I think I love you."
He's never said it before, not out loud. Carlos has never said it either, though he's thought about it
and wondered and perhaps he's been pushing towards this point, silently daring the other man
to say it first so he'd know for sure. But somehow, hearing it makes him realise he should have
said something weeks ago.
"I think I love you too."
Kevin holds onto him tighter at that, and Carlos feels a rush of euphoria that completely transcends
the physical. It isn't about the contact though that's very enjoyable too and it isn't about the
lingering memories of last night. No. This is deeper than both of those. More. This is how he
can stay in a place that's so unsettling and so threatening, at least on the outside. Because
because underneath it's something else. Something different. Something good?
Yes. Something very good.
"I ah should probably go shower," Carlos manages, still a little nervous. "I have lots of
science to be getting to and and"
He trails off as Kevin's hand slips under his dressing gown and starts stroking over his chest, idly
circling a nipple with a single fingertip. "You don't have to go straight away, do you?" he
murmurs in Carlos' ear, in that tone which almost makes Carlos' knees buckle.
No. Carlos does not have to go straight away.
In fact, Carlos does not have to go for quite a while.
***
The point at which things go horribly wrong can often be hard to spot, even long after the fact.
Not in this case. In this case it's clear as day, though not at first.
It starts, as so many things do, with an unexpected story on the radio. Carlos has it on in the lab
when he's working he always does and he's used to items popping up that make him stop and
stare at the radio itself, blinking at it in confusion as if the inanimate object somehow held an
explanation for whatever oddity is being related.
It never does OK, apart from that one time when all the electricity turned sentient but that
doesn't stop him. It's pretty much a reflex action now, and one he finds himself performing on a
regular basis. Yes, small-town America can be very quirky at times especially if you're more
used to big cities but even so, Desert Bluffs is in a class of its own.
This particular day, Carlos is midway through disassembling a clock because he's absolutely
sure there's something wrong with time in this town and listening to his boyfriend's regular
broadcast. The words are drifting through his mind, warm and comforting, so he feels slightly
jarred when he hears the sound of a door opening in the broadcast booth, and someone handing
something to Kevin.
"Oh some breaking news, listeners," Kevin says, the sudden shift in his voice making it clear
he's surprised. "I have just received word from our beloved local mega-conglomerate, Strexcorp
Synernists Inc, that "
Ah, Strexcorp. On the one hand, Carlos is more than a little unnerved by the company. By their
incessantly cheery PR and oddly sinister edge that he can't quite pin down. But, on the other hand,
they're at the heart of Desert Bluffs' economy, and responsible for a borderline-zero
unemployment rate in the town and that really is an impressive business model.
" they have today been informed of an impending hostile takeover bid by Nietzsche Futures
PLC. This news came from out of the blue especially considering what happened during the last
attempted takeover bid Strexcorp faced back in 2003 and a Strex spokesperson, giving a hastily-
arranged press conference on the front steps of their HQ building, announced moments ago: "We
do not know why any other company would attempt to move in on our territory, given our
reputation, though we suspect it is due to our unbeaten business model and groundbreaking
programme of urban regeneration. Nevertheless, Strexcorp does not stand for takeover bids
hostile or otherwise and we are immediately calling on all our staff both directly and indirectly
employed to take action. Nietzsche Futures' takeover teams are expected to arrive in Desert
Bluffs within the hour and we cannot we will not allow them to succeed." So there you have
it, folks. If you're on Strexcorp's books and, let's face it, who in town isn't? you should
immediately make your way to your designated clocking-in point and prepare to defend your
employers and your town from this unwelcome and unacceptable attempt on our tranquil way
of life. And so, as we all move towards this unexpected addition to our day, I give you the
weather."
Very odd. Carlos is used to hearing news about Strexcorp on the radio and not just because
Kevin thinks they're absolutely wonderful but this is the first time he's heard them try to to
what? Mobilise people? What are they all going to do, stand around a boardroom table somewhere
and glower whilst negotiations take place?
Carlos picks up his phone to call Kevin and ask, but then thinks better of it. It's just business stuff
of some kind, and whilst Carlos is able to recognise that it's important to some, to him it's just a
distraction from science.
Besides. He's sure Kevin will tell him all about it tonight.
***
Carlos has always had a tendency to get very engrossed in his work. Sometimes he can be at it for
hours and only snap out of his scientific reverie when someone else intervenes and points out that
maybe he should try subsisting on something other than coffee. Or that he should maybe sleep in a
bed, rather than slumped over his latest collection of notes.
This particular afternoon long after the thoughts of Strexcorp's business activities have drifted
into the back of his mind is a prime example. The light is starting to fade when a noise in the
distance makes Carlos look up and glance at the clock on the wall. If it can be trusted and he's
not at all sure it can it's after six, and it's only now that he realises he's heard nothing from
Kevin.
It's then that he processes the noise in the distance that caught his attention in the first place, as he
hears it again: a low, sonorous rumble followed by was that a scream?
Oh. What's going on?
Feeling a sudden stab of shock, Carlos leaps to his feet and hurries out of his lab, into the little
apartment connected to it, and through to open the front door.
Beyond is a scene from a nightmare. In the light of the low sun, Desert Bluffs glitters blood-red,
though with far more blood than usual. Smoke is rising in the distance, along with flashes of fire,
and now he's outside Carlos can hear even more screaming. As he watches, a man comes
running along the debris-strewn street; a man in a black suit, with a bright sky-blue tie. He's
running flat-out, absolute terror writ large across his face and following along behind him are two
men in black suits with bright orange ties.
Strexcorp enforcers.
It's at this point that despite all logic and common sense Carlos is struck by the possibility that
the term 'hostile takeover' might be quite literal in this case. The blue-tied man who he assumes
must be from Nietzsche Futures PLC stumbles all of a sudden and sprawls to the floor. As he
does, the two orange-tied Strex men close in on him, pulling out shiny silver blades and
Carlos hurries back inside, pushing the door shut and leaning on it in mind-blanking horror.
He's just seen he's just
Kevin. Where is Kevin? If this insanity is going on all over the town, then his boyfriend might
be
Panic hits and Carlos pulls out his phone, but he's got no signal. Whatever's happening, it's clearly
affecting the telecommunications, because Desert Bluffs usually has excellent signal. He decides
to risk going outside again, in the hopes that maybe he might be able to pick up at least a couple of
bars, though has to pause first, taking several deep and steadying breaths.
And then he steps out. The street is silent now, and the two orange-tied men have gone. The blue-
tied man is still there, though lying prone with blood all over his back.
He isn't moving. On a logical level, Carlos processes that this is because the man is dead but his
mind can't fully engage with it.
He has to focus. Has to find Kevin. He looks at his phone but there's still no signal, and the panic
gets worse because because if this is happening all over town, then Kevin could be
Don't think it. Don't think it. Maybe he should go out looking, or oh, maybe he's got a signal-
booster tucked away somewhere that might
And that's when Carlos sees movement in the smoky haze further down the street: movement that
resolves into several figures walking closer. For a second, he's sure he needs to run but then he
realises that the person at the head of the group is Kevin. The others are people men and women
alike wearing the standard black suit and orange tie combination typical of the Strex business
team, just like the two other men Carlos saw moments ago. As they get closer, Kevin waves them
off, heading towards the apartment building and slowing when he realises that Carlos is
standing outside, staring over at him in horror.
It's hard not to. And it isn't because Carlos has just watched Kevin emerge from the chaos with a
team of blood-streaked Strex enforcers at his back as if they were following him. No. It's because
of the way Kevin himself looks: half-drenched in blood that from the way he's moving easily
can't be his own, hair tousled, eyes alight with pleasure. At his side he's holding a bright silver
knife with a short hilt and a long, narrow blade though he sheathes it as he gets closer,
seeming almost guilty.
All Carlos can do is keep staring, frozen to the spot, feeling as though the whole world has just
collapsed on his head.
"Kevin?" he manages, voice high-pitched and laden with terror and disbelief. "Kevin what
have you..?"
But he can't go on. Kevin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder and Carlos instinctively backs
away, though it's the only movement he's capable of.
Kevin looks a little surprised. "What is it?" he asks. "Are you all right? I figured you'd be safe this
far out the takeover operation was heaviest in the town centre."
"You I" Carlos tries again, but the sentences still won't actualise.
This is worse than the nightmares. At least the nightmares were predominately abstract.
Before he can try to get words out again, there's heavy footsteps from further down the street and
another figure appears through the haze a figure that is clearly not human. For the first few
seconds Carlos can only stare, as the creature stalks closer. It's alarmingly tall maybe eight feet?!
and built like a very well-muscled humanoid man, only with a lot more spikes. Great, bat-like
wings erupt from its back, and it wears only a black loincloth and thick metal boots, though every
inch of its visible skin is drenched in blood. A sweeping pair of horns frame its head, which is set
with vivid red eyes, and matches the red-eyed skull set into the pommel of its massive, spiked
sword.
Carlos screams. Kevin manages to grab his arm before he can dart back into the building, though
Carlos tries to push him off without even thinking about it.
"What is that thing?!" he exclaims.
Incredibly, Kevin turns and looks at the creature as if only just noticing it. "There you are!" he
calls. "Could you maybe keep up?"
"Sorry," the creature replies, in a voice that seems to be resonant with the accumulated agonies of
a thousand tormented souls. "I spotted one of their accounting teams a couple of blocks back.
Couldn't resist."
Kevin grins. "Oh, you," he says, offhand, and then looks back at Carlos. "Sorry, where are my
manners? Carlos, this is Azatothoth."
"Aza what?"
"Azatothoth. Merciless Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth Adjunct to the Fourth Infernal
Plane."
Carlos is still frozen to the spot. "He's a a"
"He's a demon," says Kevin, calmly. "My demon."
"Your demon"
"Yes! Well, it's a time-share arrangement. He's soul-bound to how many is it now?"
"Over two hundred beings or entities across four planes of existence," Azatothoth chips in, resting
his sword on his shoulder and looking not entirely in favour of the idea of idle conversation.
"But where did he..?" Carlos now tries.
"Oh, I summoned him," Kevin answers. "I told you I could do that."
"I thought you were joking!"
"About demon-summoning? Carlos, that's hardly something to joke about"
"Look," Azatothoth cuts in, "you two obviously need to have a little talk, and I haven't killed
anything in at least ninety seconds, so I'm going to wander over to the park at the end of the street
where I can clearly see three people hiding in the bushes and keep myself occupied until you're all
done."
"Sure thing," Kevin replies. "See if you can get them to tell you where they've put the general
ledgers. I know the middle-managers are still looking for some of those."
"Will do," Azatothoth says, and stalks off. There's some distant shrieking as he gets closer to his
new targets, though Carlos is now too distracted to notice.
He's still staring at Kevin. "You're covered in blood." These are the words he's been trying to
get out for most of this for want of a better word conversation, though they don't feel any less
awful once given voice.
"Yeah," Kevin replies. "Hostile takeover. Company called Nietzsche Futures PLC came to town
and "
"I know," Carlos interrupts. "I heard your broadcast. Kevin, hostile takeovers happen in
boardrooms. Deeply boring people with deeply boring spreadsheets debate them, an imperceptibly
large quantity of money moves about electronically, and life carries on as normal."
"Uh not round here," Kevin points out. "Here hostile takeovers are a bit more you know.
Hands-on."
The hysterical edge is getting harder to hide. "You're covered in blood!" Carlos repeats.
Kevin shrugs. "That's pretty standard. And I am pretty high up the non-directly-employed side of
things, so I was right in at the deep end. Had to summon Azzie almost at once and"
"Azzie?!"
"Azzie. Azatothoth." Kevin gestures almost idly down the street where, in the distance, the eight-
foot demon is chasing a shrieking man with what looks suspiciously like a detached leg in his
other hand.
"You call that creature 'Azzie?!'"
Kevin shrugs again, looking remarkably blas about the whole situation. "Sure I do, at least
informally. Not in front of our superiors, of course."
Carlos stares for a long moment, fighting not to hyperventilate. "You're covered in blood!" he
manages, for a third time, as if hoping he might eventually get a response that makes things better,
not worse.
"Yeah. It isn't mine, though, so don't worry."
"How can you be so calm about this?!"
Beneath the hysteria, Carlos' mind is starting to process just how calm Kevin really is about all
this, and on an immediate level that's bad enough because of how uncalm Carlos needs him to be.
But on a deeper level it is infinitely more terrifying.
He's covered in someone else's blood and he's calm.
"Seriously, Carlos, I'm fine," Kevin insists evidently processing the hysteria as concern for his
well-being and he tries to put a hand on Carlos' shoulder again. Tries to pull him in.
Carlos pushes him off, firmer this time, which makes Kevin stare at him in surprise, as if he's
finally realising what's really going on. "Carlos what is it?" he asks softly.
"You this all of this," Carlos replies, backing off further with his hands held up defensively.
"You're wandering around drenched in blood and you don't seem to care!"
"Of course I care!" Kevin insists. "It was a hostile takeover! Do you know how dangerous those
are? I was defending my employers, my town, my I was defending you."
"Me?!" Carlos exclaims, eyes wide with fresh horror. "Don't make this about me!"
"But how could it not be? You're my my Carlos, I love you."
The words sting like xylene on an open wound, and Carlos feels as though his knees are going to
give way. Just this morning just this morning those words were everything. They were sunlight,
rapture, bliss and perfection.
Now now they terrify him. Now they're coming from the lips of a man drenched in blood, a
man with an apparently well-used blade sheathed at his hip.
A man Carlos thought he knew.
"Don't," he gasps. Pleads. "Just don't. I can't."
"Carlos," Kevin says, reaching for him once again, "let's just go inside a moment and talk about
this and"
"No," Carlos manages. "No."
***
It's later that night, and Carlos is driving as fast as he dares along the darkened highway. In the
rear-view mirror, he can see the distant lights of Desert Bluffs, fading further and further as he
races away. There's a hastily-packed bag on the seat beside him, but that was all he had time for.
All he could manage before everything became too much and he had to get out.
His phone starts to ring again, and he pulls over, parking by the roadside and looking at the
screen.
It's Kevin. Kevin, obviously trying once more to talk him into coming back.
But he can't. He can't ever go back.
Carlos collapses against the steering wheel, emotion finally getting the better of him, breaking
through every mental wall and leaving him suddenly sobbing, terrified and empty and soul-
crushingly alone.
Eventually, once the wave of horror has finally died down, Carlos makes himself pause. Makes
himself rub a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then he pulls the SIM card from his phone, throws the card out the window, and disappears off
into the night.
The Observer Effect
The Observer Effect
The act of observation changes the subject being observed.
***
It's eight months later. More specifically, it's May 2012, which is a reassuring thing to think
because it means time is probably working. Time seems to work much better out in the normal
world, and that's something Carlos reminds himself of on a regular basis. Just just because.
Since leaving Desert Bluffs, he's been living in San Francisco. He likes San Francisco. It's big, it's
cosmopolitan, and it has plenty of trees and water. All things that are nothing like Desert Bluffs. It
also certain sporting occasions aside isn't drenched in blood, and that's even better than the
trees and water and cosmopolitan lifestyle combined.
Finding employment isn't the easiest thing in the world when you're a scientist, but he's done his
best and is at least managing a modest upkeep, teaching at a local community college whilst
writing financed research papers on the side. It could be better though, and he's started looking
further afield again. Anywhere, really. Anywhere that's nothing like Desert Bluffs.
It's late one evening, and he's just settled down with a mug of coffee and his collection of
Breaking Bad DVDs (Season Five starts in a few months, so he's trying to re-watch it all in
preparation) when there's a knock at the door.
Odd. He isn't expecting anyone. He hits pause midway through Walt and Jesse having another
of those oh-so-lovely moments and gets up, heading into the hall to see who it is.
As he opens the door, Carlos is surprised to find an old friend on the step: a fellow scientist named
Toby, who he went to college with. His roommate in first year, in fact at least until Toby got
together with Arlene, who he's been living with ever since.
"Whoa," Carlos breathes. "Toby, what are you doing here?"
"Tracking you down," the other man says. "Can I come in?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." Carlos waves him inside. "Can I get you anything?"
"No thanks, I'm good. I need to talk to you though."
Toby has always been a fairly edgy man at heart, so to have him turn up like this, out of the blue,
is more than a little weird. Carlos leads him back through to the living room, gesturing to the
couch, though Toby doesn't sit down.
"How did you even find me?" he asks.
"It wasn't easy," Toby replies. "You don't write, you don't call, you shutdown your Facebook
page Carlos, I was freaking out a bit."
"I'm fine," Carlos lies. "Seriously. I just needed to get away from it all. So how did you find
me?"
"It took a while," Toby tells him. "Eventually, I spotted you on the website for the college where
you're working now."
"They've got me up on there? Oh, I'll have to do something about that"
"Look, seriously, what is going on with you? You're acting like you're on the run or something."
"No, no I'm just I'm just starting over."
"Last I heard, you were moving to Desert Bluffs." Toby's expression goes suddenly cautious.
"You ah how did that go?"
"Not good," is all Carlos will say. "It went it went not good. So now I'm here. And here is
better."
"I I see." Now Toby does sit, dropping onto the nearest couch with an odd expression on his
face. "I look. The reason I tracked you down OK. I tracked you down 'cause you
disappeared and I was worried. But I also tracked you down because I sort of have a job offer for
you."
"A job offer?" Carlos repeats, surprised. "Where are you even based now?"
"Me? Oh, I went back home. To Night Vale."
Carlos' chest aches suddenly. "Night Vale? That's that's the next town over from Desert
Bluffs."
"I know. I live there, remember?"
"But it's the next town over from Desert Bluffs. I can't ever go back there, Toby. I can't."
Maybe the horror in his eyes is all too obvious. Maybe Toby just understands. "Night Vale is
not Desert Bluffs, Carlos. Trust me. Whatever happened and I won't ask but whatever
happened, it won't happen in Night Vale. You'd be safe there. Well. As much as any of us are safe
anywhere, of course."
Carlos is not convinced. And he's going to say no. Of course he is. He's not going back to that
part of the country ever again. But he should at least hear the man out.
"What's the job?" he asks.
"Scientific team leader," Toby tells him. "There's a whole bunch of us in Night Vale fully-
funded doing research into all kinds of things. Time, seismology, the nature of reality it's so
interesting. Night Vale is the most scientifically-interesting community in America. Plus, the team
is pretty much autonomous, and I know you prefer to work that way. And our last team leader,
he uh won the lottery, so we're on the lookout for a new one."
"Team leader?" Carlos repeats. "So, what? You're headhunting me to be your boss?"
"Heck, yes," Toby replies. "We need someone sensible. Someone who can control the team."
"Why not go for it yourself?"
"Oh, I am not good at that organisational stuff, you know that. But you I remember working
with you back at college. You were perfect. You could balance all the different opinions and
inputs and still come out on top with a decent graph. And this Carlos, you'd love it. We've got
such a diverse team and so much scope and" He stares up; big, dark eyes wide and imploring.
"Please? I want to work for someone who's sane for once."
"I'm not even going to ask," Carlos mutters. "It Toby, it all sounds very promising, and you
know I'd love to work with you again, but Night Vale? It's too close to Desert Bluffs. I can't go
back there. I can't."
Toby looks crestfallen. "OK," he says, rising to his feet once more. "I I figured as much, but I
had to ask. I er I should be going."
"You could stay, if you like."
"No no, I don't want to intrude."
And off he goes.
When he's alone again, Carlos stands and stares at the front door. His own team. His own
scientific team. With funding. And autonomy.
It's everything he's dreamed of.
It's also Night Vale. Which is next to Desert Bluffs.
But it isn't Desert Bluffs.
Carlos stands. He thinks. And then he makes the snap-decision that is going to change his life
forever.
"Toby!" he calls, tugging the door open and racing out into the street. "Toby wait!"
***
Another month passes. Preparations are made mental, emotional and technical alike and that's
how Carlos finds himself standing in the hot desert sun, watching a pair of removal men carrying
boxes into his new apartment.
He's renting for now, but the little building seems nice enough, and it's only one lot along from a
very promising-looking pizza place.
The sun beats down. It's somewhat triggery. But the surfaces aren't drenched in blood, and the
Strexcorp emblem isn't emblazoned on every building, and those are both massive plus-points.
The street itself is pretty quiet, but there are a few people around and Carlos knows they're
scoping him out. That's understandable. He's the new guy in a small town, and the locals tend to
notice that sort of thing. Heck, right back when he moved to Des
OK, no, don't think about it. Seriously, don't think about it.
He lets the removal men do all the heavy lifting and carrying that's what he's paying them for,
after all but once everything is inside, he tells them to leave him to it. This part the setting-up
part he'd much rather do himself.
Priorities being what they are, he starts on his new lab first. The apartment has some sort of garage
conversion connected to it which is just perfect it's why he chose the place and it isn't long
before he's organising workbenches and unpacking glassware, idly humming to himself and
oh but that just isn't tuneful at all.
Deciding he'd better come up with an alternative, he manages to locate his radio in one of the
boxes, finds somewhere to plug it in, and clicks it on. He hasn't used it in months having not had
decent lab space of his own over in San Francisco so it immediately jumps to a local frequency.
For a second, he worries it might be able to pick up the transmissions from Desert Bluffs, but
thankfully, as the sound resolves, it's not a voice he recognises, and within a moment he's caught
some reference to Night Vale. Carlos supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Lots of small towns
have their own local stations and Night Vale is likely no exception, and
the guy on the radio seems to be talking about a dog park. That in itself isn't strange. No. The
strange part is that the dog park in question appears to be entirely off-limits and
wait, hooded what?
Carlos shakes his head. Trust him to have managed to move to somewhere else weird. Even so, it
still looks normal compared to Desert Bluffs, and that's the main thing.
Now, where did he put those beakers..?
He's on his knees under one of the benches, poking around in a cardboard box, when he catches
the next story that the guy on the radio has moved to, and he's so taken aback that he tries to stand
up all at once, cracking his head on the underside of the bench in surprise. Staggering upright,
rubbing his forehead, Carlos stares at the radio, once more daring it to explain itself.
The man on the radio is talking about him.
Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. This is not how you stay off the radar! And now, the guy
whatever his name is is making Carlos sound so mysterious and and interesting, and
Not good. Something is going to have to be done. Something to make people see that Carlos is
just as boring and normal and uninteresting as can be. Something that will make sure they pay him
no more mind and leave him to get on with his science.
But how can he do that? If he draws more attention to himself, that will defeat the objective.
Although oh. There's always the time-honoured tradition of bombarding people with so much
science that they can't take it anymore, and lose interest, and go off to talk about something else
like the weather, or television, or baking or something.
Hmmm.
Well. Maybe what Carlos needs is to introduce himself. Then the good people of Night Vale will
see he's not interesting after all
***
It takes a surprisingly small amount of time to arrange a town meeting. Surprisingly small. Carlos
heads over to City Hall to sort it out, and is somewhat taken aback when the woman at the front
desk tells him he can do it at 4pm.
"4pm?" he repeats. "What day?"
She arches a brow at him. "Today, of course."
"Isn't that a bit you know? Short notice?"
"Oh, don't you worry about that," the woman replies. "People will be there."
And she's right. As he makes the preparations in the side-hall he's been allocated, Carlos can't
quite believe how many people are turning up. They file into the room, making polite conversation
as they take their seats, and he's not at all sure what to make of this. Some of them even seem to
have brought snacks, which they're sharing with the other attendees.
Plus there's the fact that, every now and then Carlos catches a familiar face in the crowd. It
makes no sense, because he's never been to Night Vale before, but maybe they're people Toby
knows. People who might have been in photographs he has, or something.
Yes, that's got to be it.
As the hall fills up, Carlos realises that several of the people who've come along seem to be
members of the press. A tall, imposing woman with a notebook in one hand is hovering at the side
of the room, talking away furiously on her cellphone and glancing over at him every now and
then. Carlos can't hear everything she's saying, but he definitely catches the words 'insurance' and
'no idea what caused that explosion' and decides maybe this is something not meant for him to
know.
As the clock on the wall reaches 4pm, Carlos makes his way to the front podium to address the
rather large crowd that's gathered. They're all watching him with rapt interest, quickly quietening
and taking their seats if they were still standing as he steps up.
And he starts to talk. He starts to tell them why he's come to town. That Night Vale is apparently
the most scientifically-interesting community in America, and that he's going to be leading the
local scientists in their efforts. He moves on to explain some of the things they're planning to
study, in as much detail as possible, knowing that this is the point at which people's eyes glaze
over and they suddenly remember something else they need to be doing.
It's as he's midway through explaining the finer points of seismology that Carlos really becomes
aware of how rapt everyone still is. Even the scary-looking woman who'd been on the phone
before is staring up at him like every word he says somehow reveals another mystery of the
universe.
This is not going according to plan!
Still talking, Carlos starts trying to work out how he can shift things to a point where even these
strange people won't want to keep up with him. Perhaps he should move onto quantum theory, but
deliberately omit to explain it using string. People can never keep up if you don't include the
string, although to be fair they
And that's when he sees. Carlos is not usually one for public speaking, and he's been trying to
keep calm by not looking at the crowd too much: skimming his eyes over them, but no more. But
now, something makes him really look; look at the faces staring up at him. And as he does, Carlos
realises something that sends a stab of terror right to his core, making him falter momentarily
before he keeps going, trying to hide the reaction.
But it's hard not to because there, sitting in the front row is Kevin.
It's him. It has to be him. Carlos has no idea what the man is doing here but it can't be good, and
for a second he has to fight the urge to make a run for it.
What is he doing here? Why is he here? Is he about to make some attempt to win Carlos back,
or or something worse?
Flashes of memory cross Carlos' mind: smoke rising in the distance, and blood-streaked figures
walking through the haze, with Kevin at their head, and
No. No. Don't think it. Don't give in.
Focus on science.
So he does. Somehow, Carlos keeps talking right to the end. He's vaguely aware that the
assembled crowd is still hanging on his every word, but it's harder to think about now when he's
got a far more immediate concern. As he concludes, the crowd applauds, and then a couple of the
reporters because there really are quite a lot of them ask follow-up questions.
Why are they so interested? It's nice, but it isn't normal.
And then the meeting over everyone starts to file out. They take their time over it, pausing to
chat to people they know, and making sure to give a wide berth to wait, who are those guys in
the back? They look like government agents! Well no, they look like people trying to look like
government agents, right down to the sunglasses and conspicuous earpieces.
This place is seriously weird.
Carlos doesn't have time to stop and think about it too much, though. He needs to make a run for
it. He needs to make a run for it before
There's a hand on his shoulder, and he turns in shock, well-aware that the reaction and the
emotion is writ large on his face as he does.
It's Kevin. Carlos suddenly feels like his knees are going to give way.
"Uh could I maybe get a quote?" the other man asks.
His voice is completely different. Completely different. But not only different, it's familiar, and
Carlos feels a little of the terror blend to surprise as he realises that this is the guy from the radio.
What's more there's other, subtle things about him that Carlos has only just noticed, such as how
his eyes aren't like Kevin's, or the fact he's wearing colours that Kevin would never go for, and
Carlos realises he's staring. The man in front of him is nigh-on identical to Kevin but he isn't
Kevin. And Carlos is sure his his ex would have told him if he had a twin.
So, what? There's two of them? He's somehow managed to find Kevin's doppelganger?
In the next town over?!
This is not normal. This is not normal at all.
"Are you OK?" the man who isn't Kevin now asks, on account of the fact that Carlos has just
been staring at him in silence for several seconds.
"Uh yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Carlos flat-out lies. "Nice to meet you. I'm Carlos."
The other man gives a little grin. "You said," he points out, giving a subtle headtilt up to the
podium where Carlos has been giving his talk. "I'm Cecil. So could I get that quote? For
ah"
He looks weirdly distracted too, and Carlos finds himself wondering why.
"Yes, yes, uh"
He can't think. Of all the people in the world to discover a doppelganger for, why does it have to
be Kevin?
"you know, it's very dangerous out there," Carlos explains. "Eight fatality units above normal.
You should be careful, you know, because because of that. Uh I have to go. Like, now.
Because of the danger thing. I goodbye"
And Carlos all but runs out the door, without even stopping to wait for a reply or a reaction. He
leaps in his car and drives back to his new apartment without pausing to think, and
seriously, what is going on?!
It's just as he's trying to work this out, frantically pacing up and down his living room, that his
phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Carlos, it's Toby. You need to get down to the seismic monitoring station right away!"
"We have a seismic monitoring station?" Carlos repeats in surprise.
"Oh, yes, you're going to love it. I'll send you the co-ordinates for your satnav. But, seriously, you
need to get over here. We just picked up another one."
"Another what?"
"Another earthquake! This one was nine-point-four!"
Carlos lowers the phone for a moment and stares at it, before lifting it again in order to reply. "
Toby, if there had just been a magnitude nine-point-four earthquake, half of this town would be in
ruins."
"I know!" Toby says. "This happens a lot. Big earthquakes that no one can feel. I told you you'd
never be bored here!"
It's starting to look like Night Vale is going to earn its moniker of "most scientifically-interesting
community in America."
Carlos just wishes it didn't also have to include a doppelganger of his ex. Who also does
community radio. And
OK, wait, so they live in adjacent towns and both do the same job?
Oh, this is not normal. This is not normal at all.
***
Acclimatising to Night Vale is quite different from acclimatising to Desert Bluffs. Acclimatising to
Desert Bluffs requires, amongst other things, a strong stomach and extremely good facial muscles,
on account of all the smiling. Night Vale, on the other hand, seems to require a complete and
unquestioning acceptance of the bizarre.
The earthquakes are a big start. The earthquakes that register quite clearly on the equipment down
in the admittedly impressive seismic monitoring station. Carlos sits and stares at them for a
long time, and then takes a number of the detectors apart to find out what's wrong with them, but
they're working just fine. Everything is as it should be, albeit with massive earthquakes happening
on a fairly regular basis that no one can feel.
Then there's the clocks. If the clocks over in Desert Bluffs had been weird, then the clocks here in
Night Vale are just insane. The more Carlos starts to look into it late into the night, over and
over the more he's forced to conclude that time just doesn't work properly here. It seems like it
does, at least until you stop to pay attention to it, which is when you realise that the sun is setting
at the wrong time, or that some of the afternoons last at least a couple of days.
And speaking of the sun, Carlos is particularly taken aback the day it doesn't rise at all. No one
else seems fazed by this, aside from a small campaign group called Sun-A-Day, whose sole aim
seems to be to get it made illegal for the sun not to rise at least once per day, as if someone in the
town itself had some level of control over it.
Sometimes it's best just not to think about it. It's best to focus on science and try not to think too
hard about how intensely weird this whole place is.
And then well
then there's the guy on the radio.
After the initial press conference after running into the man who isn't Kevin it's quite a while
before Carlos dares turning the radio back on. He knows, now, that the other man Cecil, right?
isn't Kevin, but they still look borderline identical and it's really, really difficult. Especially
because whenever the scientists have to make an announcement about something which it seems
to be customary for them to do a lot Cecil is always there. And that's fine of course, because he's
a reporter and it's his job, but
but it's really, really difficult all the same.
Still. After a few weeks, Carlos decides he's going to have to get used to it, so one evening he
decides to risk turning the radio back on. It does help him think, and he's got a lot on his mind
what with that house that doesn't exist and so he needs to think even more than usual.
And it's good to keep up with what's going on in the community. He does live here, after all. He
clicks the radio on just in time to catch Cecil's show going live, and wow, he really doesn't sound
anything like Kevin, but all the same, his voice has such a similar
no, no, stop thinking about it. Science. Science now.
Carlos goes back to what he's doing, the radio on in the background, and wait, they're trying to
build a drawbridge out of what?! Do they even know how construction works? And, more to the
point, why do they need a drawbridge in the middle of a desert? Night Vale doesn't have a river.
A lake. A coastal inlet. It doesn't have any bodies of water beyond the occasional swimming pool
and that pond over in Mission Grove Park with all the warning signs about why you really
shouldn't feed the ducks.
Oh, he's never going to get his head around how this place works.
Carlos wonders if the radio will help with that. If knowing more about the oddities of this town
will help him make sense of them. Maybe it will. So he should keep listening.
For science.
***
But that's when it starts to get weirder. The more Carlos listens to Cecil's show, the more he
realises that Cecil talks about him a lot. To a certain extent, this would make sense if he's
reporting on scientific developments in the town, which he seems particularly fond of doing but
it's more than that.
And it isn't hard to see well, to hear why. Cecil isn't exactly subtle about it.
Carlos tries to stay in denial about it for as long as possible, but the fact of the matter is Cecil
has a massive crush on him. And on a scientific level, Carlos finds this very interesting, because
what does it say that both Cecil and Kevin think about him that way? But on an unscientific level,
it is weird. It is scary.
Carlos suspects this means he should stop listening to the man's show every single day.
But he doesn't.
But it's for science. And and community involvement. And
oh this is all so wrong.
What also doesn't help is that, whenever they happen to meet for some reason, Cecil is always
really nice to him, and goes sort of sweetly awkward. Nothing else seems to faze the guy.
Carlos has heard him report on things that any sane person would be horrified by that he himself
is regularly horrified by and yet Cecil seems to breeze through it all without any indication he
finds it odd or alarming or threatening or reality-breakingly insane in any way.
And yet, whenever he runs into Carlos, it's like Cecil forgets how to string together coherent
sentences.
It's sort of ador no no, stop thinking about it.
But. Take today, for example. This particular afternoon a Saturday Carlos is heading into town
to pick up something for dinner. The City Council has for a collection of reasons that make no
logical sense but seem to have resulted in a number of deaths just banned all wheat and wheat
by-products from the town, and that's awkward if you happen to be a fan of bread and really,
really want a decent sandwich.
So off Carlos goes, determined to find a quick alternative that won't distract him from his science
any more than necessary. It's a lovely afternoon to be fair, most afternoons in Night Vale are
lovely, provided it's not one of those weird days when the sun hasn't risen and Carlos is feeling
pretty good about life, all things considered. He hums to himself as he walks, idly calculating
equations in his head, and
"Carlos?"
Oh dear.
It's Cecil. He isn't alone, though he's with three other people and they're walking along
together, chatting as they go. Of the three, one is an older woman, with the kind of deep, intense
eyes that suggest a very special kind of wisdom; a woman who seems to glow if you catch sight of
her out of the corner of your eye, but not if you look directly at her. Then there's a man about the
same age as Cecil, dressed in khaki and with a cautious air about him that seems somehow
incongruous with his smile, who is standing particularly close to Cecil and if Carlos didn't know
that Cecil was single, he'd have sworn the two of them were dating. Lastly there's a bearded man
in a straw hat, wearing the kind of garish plaid shirt that by its very existence disproves the theory
of intelligent design, and with a flicker in his eyes that makes him look like he's trying to
remember something very deep that he can't quite pin down.
"Oh uh hey, Cecil."
"We were just talking about you!" Cecil tells him. "I was explaining about that time you came to
the studio to test for materials, and oh, do you know everyone?"
"Uh, no, no, not yet," Carlos replies although, the more he looks, the more their faces seem
weirdly familiar.
"Oh dear, sorry, I should have thought of that sooner. Well. This is Old Woman Josie, and Scout
Master Earl Harlan, and this is John Peters"
"you know, the farmer?" the man himself interjects, with a bright smile.
"Hey, everyone," Carlos manages, not quite sure what else to say. "Where are you all headed?"
"Over to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex," Josie tells him. "It's
League Night and we're in with a shot at third place if we oh, hold on one second."
She pulls a ringing cellphone out of her pocket and looks at the screen. "Darn, I'm going to
have to take this," she says, and steps off to the side as she answers the call. "Hello? Hello? Erika?
This better be important, you know it's my bowling day! Wait he said what now?"
And she wanders further off, still talking hurriedly to whoever this Erika is.
"You'll have to forgive Josie," John says to Carlos. "She's having issues with the angels again."
"Angels?" Carlos repeats, well aware that he shouldn't ask but completely unable to stop
himself.
"Oh yes," Cecil adds. "Josie is the Night Vale expert on angels, on account of the fact that they
live with her. Although" and here he lowers his voice, "we're not supposed to know about
them so we should probably keep it down."
"Right," Carlos manages. "I so you're going bowling?"
"We are, yes," Earl replies. "The four of us have been bowling together for years."
"Hey, you want to come along?" Cecil asks, speaking rather fast as if he's been psyching himself
up to it. "We always get some practice in before the league game and I'm sure we can find
someone else to even out the teams."
The question provokes an odd little look in Earl Harlan's eyes, though he doesn't say anything.
"Uh no, no thanks, I have lots of errands to run," Carlos sort-of lies.
"OK, that's OK," Cecil answers, sounding somewhat crestfallen. "Well you know, any
time you want to you've still got my number right?"
"Yes, Cecil," Carlos tells him. "I've still got your number."
He's still got it. He's had it for weeks ever since Cecil gave it to him at the end of one of the
scientists' press conferences though he's never actually used it.
Sometimes he sits and stares at it, though. And wonders. And
oh dear, Cecil is saying something else to him and Carlos' mind has gone off on a tangent.
"uh, yes, that would be that would be great," Carlos manages, hoping that this at least
vaguely matches up with whatever Cecil was just saying. "Well, good luck with your bowling.
I I should be going."
And he gives them all a quick wave Cecil, the two men, and the woman who still seems to be
having a frantic conversation with the mysterious Erika before darting off.
Even as he goes, Carlos can feel them all watching. Cecil especially.
Oh. Oh. That just did not go well.
Carlos tries not to think about it as he walks. Tries to focus on something else.
Like, why were the other three so familiar?
This isn't the first time he's had this feeling. Leaving aside the whole thing with Cecil, Carlos has
noticed other people who he's sure he knows. Faces he recognises. It's been happening since the
day he arrived in town and he's actually been trying to ignore it never a good sign for a scientist
in the hopes it might just be some weird side-effect of trying to adjust to moving out here.
But the fact is Carlos keeps seeing familiar faces, and he knows the place they're familiar from
is Desert Bluffs. Perhaps that's why he won't think about it properly.
He wasn't in Desert Bluffs for all that long only a matter of months and he didn't know a lot of
people all that well, so it's been easier to ignore, and yet
Something very strange is going on. The more Carlos thinks about it, the more he realises that
Night Vale is full of people who look like people in Desert Bluffs. In fact, of the ones he knows
well enough, Carlos is sure they're even doing the same jobs as their counterparts.
Cecil certainly is.
Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.
But how long can he not think about it?
***
And the doppelgangers aren't the only problem. The thing with the clocks is getting worse.
Carlos has spent weeks on it now, trying desperately to work out what's going on, but he can't pin
an answer down. He's getting more and more concerned, though, given that a lot of the clocks
seem to contain some kind of is it alive? Or what, exactly?
He doesn't know. But Carlos is increasingly sure he ought to be alerting people about it.
The trouble is the best way to do that
he could always call another press conference instead..?
No. The fact of the matter is, the best way to get the word out about the clocks is to ask Cecil to
do a piece on it during his show. Everyone seems to listen to it, so it's clearly the way forward.
It's just it's just.
Carlos thinks about it for a long time. A long, long time.
This particular evening, he's lying on his bed listening to Cecil's show, and OK, yes, sometimes
he listens to Cecil's show when he's not working now. Usually he's working but sometimes
sometimes he's just not. Like now. He's lying on his bed, hands behind his head, staring at the
ceiling and wondering what he should do whilst he listens to Cecil talk.
The man is waxing lyrical again. There's no one in the world who can wax lyrical like Cecil can,
and he has the ability to swing from being surprisingly dry and funny to being utterly existential
and thought-provoking and it's it's kind of nice.
Right now, Cecil is midway through musing on what it means when it rains in the desert, which
of course very rarely happens but did happen, albeit briefly, this morning. Just listening to him
talk is so calming and and good, and Carlos finds himself increasingly lost in the words. In
the images those words conjure up. In the strange wonder that Cecil seems to be gifted with
finding in everything.
And that's when Carlos decides. He's going to call. He's going to call tomorrow night and ask the
man to do a story on the clocks and and maybe ask if he knows how to get in touch with the
Secret Police because this really is starting to get out of hand, and
a day is long enough to psyche up to it? Right?
***
A day is not long enough to psyche up to it. It's three days before Carlos actually calls one
evening, having spent the afternoon examining a particularly dangerous-looking clock that finally
pushes him over the edge and he's confident, as he puts the phone down, that he's messed it up
completely.
Completely.
Which means he's going to have to call again. Maybe it would be safer to call whilst Cecil's on
air. That way that way he'll just get the other man's voicemail, and he can leave messages,
and and it will be less weird.
Right?
It doesn't feel less weird, though; not as he's pacing up and down in his living room the next day,
leaving Cecil an admittedly clearer message about the clocks and
wait, what was that?
He's still on the phone as he ducks down and creeps closer to the window, peering out and
there's a man at the door.
A man in a tan jacket.
***
Carlos spends the rest of the afternoon in a haze, but not entirely sure why. He somehow manages
to end up arranging to meet Cecil the next day, though how he's going to get through an entire
one-on-one conversation with the guy, he really doesn't know.
But it's important. Something is seriously wrong with time in this town, and people need to be
warned.
And that's the only reason. There is no other reason.
Oh, how can this be happening? How can this be happening again? How is it that he's
increasingly drawn to a man who who who is his maniac ex's doppelganger?! Listening to
him on the radio is one thing, because he sounds so different, but every time they meet in
person all Carlos can see is Kevin. All Carlos can remember is the day he left Desert Bluffs.
The day of the attempted hostile takeover.
He can't let it happen again. Can't.
But Cecil isn't Kevin. And there's nothing to suggest he'd ever do what Kevin did. Though
before it happened, there was nothing to suggest that Kevin would do it either.
OK, not nothing, but
Carlos makes himself another coffee and goes back to his lab. He's got to focus or this is all going
to turn into even worse of a mess than it already is, and
wait, what's that on his chalkboard?
There's something written in the top-right corner. It's in his handwriting, but Carlos has absolutely
no memory of doing it, and could it have been when when whoever it was came over for
for whatever they..?
He pauses, and takes a very, very deep breath. He's lost time. That much is obvious, though he's
been trying to deny it all afternoon. He'd been on the phone to Cecil well, to Cecil's
voicemail and there had been a someone had
Oh, why can't he remember?
Try as he might, Carlos can't get a single thought from that missing time to actualise. All he has is
the lingering awareness that something happened and this. And the words on his chalkboard,
written in his own handwriting: words he doesn't even remember writing and certainly doesn't
understand.
'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'
What does that even mean? And what are the numbers? Are they oh, maybe they're a date?
June 15th? What's going to happen on June 15th? And wait, June 15th? That will be the one-
year anniversary of the day Carlos moved to Night Vale. But nothing more than that. And it
isn't as though anything significant happened on that day, right?
Carlos has no idea what this is all getting at. And that is not a state of mind he enjoys.
But, hey, at least it's a good distraction from the ever-worsening sitcom-psychodrama that is his
life right now.
Why doesn't the universe get that he just wants to do science in peace?
***
The next few weeks pass in a haze of work and frantic concentration. So long as Carlos doesn't
stop to agonise over things, he's much better off, though he is getting to the point where he really
doesn't sleep enough again. But. It's for science. Science and distraction from
No. No. Just for science.
He hasn't seen Cecil since the day they met for coffee to discuss the clocks. Scientifically-
speaking, that meeting was a success, although non-scientifically-speaking it was a disaster, and
and now Carlos is starting to worry he's been leading Cecil on, and
and it's all not good. So he focuses on his work. He's best when he's focusing on his work. Best
when he doesn't let himself get distracted by other things.
He still listens to the radio, though. There's no harm in that, right? It's just just an anonymous
transaction. And a way to keep up with what's going on in Night Vale. And and no other
reason.
Early this particular afternoon, he's working away in his lab with the radio on in the background.
He's been listening to a very weird local documentary about the possibility of the existence of
mountains something most of Night Vale doesn't seem to believe in and, before Carlos knows
it, Cecil has gone live. And there's an odd urgency in the man's voice as he goes straight to the
news, announcing
wait, doesn't the weather usually come later?
A sandstorm. There's a sandstorm incoming. There have been a few already since Carlos moved
to Night Vale they're not exactly rare in this part of the world, and they used to happen over
in in Desert Bluffs too but from what Cecil is saying, this is going to be a particularly big one.
But a sandstorm is just a sandstorm, right? Carlos has no plans to go out, and no need to go
grocery shopping for at least a few days, so the weather can just do its thing and leave him to
work.
Right?
That's when it starts to get weird. Really, really weird. Before long, Cecil is reporting that
everyone in the town is running into their doppelgangers fighting their doppelgangers and now
Carlos can't concentrate even a little. He runs to the front window and peers through it and, sure
enough, there are a couple of people out in the sand-swept street, engaged in furious fist-fights
with people who look absolutely identical to them. People who from what Cecil is saying are
apparently just appearing out of thin air.
No one appears around Carlos, though, despite his sudden terror at the thought that they might.
That that another him might suddenly pop into existence and try to kill him.
But all of this is just making the whole doubles-thing worse. Regularly running into people he
recognises from Desert Bluffs is bad enough, but now copies of people are appearing without
explanation, and and are they connected somehow to Desert Bluffs? Or is it just a horribly
unwelcome coincidence?
And who or what is behind it all?
It isn't a welcome thought, though Carlos can't stop thinking it nonetheless. He sits in his lab, door
locked, trying to ignore the roaring of the sandstorm beyond the walls and staring at the radio,
hanging on Cecil's every word as though he's some kind of beacon of sanity amidst the insanity of
this day. But at the back of his mind, Carlos is increasingly aware of something else:
Cecil doesn't have a doppelganger either.
Another him never appears. His intern Dana kills her own doppelganger pretty much live on
air (or the other way round, because it seems to be borderline impossible to tell the original and the
double apart) and still there's only one Cecil.
Carlos realises, in retrospect, that this is when the alarm bells should have started ringing.
But it isn't. It isn't until the pitch in Cecil's voice changes, and he announces that a vortex has just
formed on his studio wall. Until he announces that he's going into it.
"Don't!" Carlos urges out loud, unable to stop himself. "Don't go near that thing, Cecil!"
The other man can't hear him, though. He's talking to an inanimate object. He's gripping the edge
of the table and talking to an inanimate object and he can't remember the last time he was this
scared.
No. He can remember precisely the last time he was this scared. Which just makes it worse.
Cecil goes into the vortex, and there's silence. Silence. It weighs heavy on Carlos, in a way he's
never experienced before. As though he can feel the gap in the world where Cecil is supposed to
be, and it's it's so
Then footsteps. Movement, in the broadcast booth. Is he back? Is he back already?
"Hello? Hello, Desert Bluffs?"
It's Kevin.
His voice cuts through Carlos like a razor, and he's confident that, were he not sitting down, he
would have fallen to the floor at those few simple words. His heart is suddenly racing like he's just
been running flat-out an appropriate analogy, really, considering that's what he's sure he should
now be doing and his breath catches in his chest.
It's Kevin. Kevin is here. Kevin is in Night Vale. Carlos hasn't heard the man's voice in eighteen
months and the merest flicker of it makes him dizzy with terror. And and
need.
No. No, no, no.
No.
All he can do is listen; listen as Kevin tries to work out where he is, and what's going on. It lasts
only a few minutes before he cues the weather and disappears but in that short space of time
Carlos goes through more than his mind knows how to process.
Need. Terror. Revulsion. Regret.
Loss.
It burns in his chest, an anguish that will not fade. He's spent eighteen months running, eighteen
months hiding, and all of a sudden it's as though it was all for nothing.
But no! No! It isn't all for nothing. Kevin isn't here because of Carlos. He's here because, like
Cecil, a vortex has formed in his radio studio, and
this is the point at which Carlos' mind catches up with where this chain of logic is leading. If
Kevin came here through a vortex, then it's more than likely that Cecil has
oh, Carlos can't think it. He can't engage for longer than a few seconds with the idea of where
Cecil must be, right now. What he must be seeing. Experiencing. Feeling. Fearing. Desert Bluffs
is not exactly a place you should go without significant mental and emotional preparation.
And Carlos has never been more sorry to be right. It's proven, moments later, as the weather
comes to an end and Cecil's voice cuts the air once again. It's a dizzying relief to hear proof that
he's OK, that he's alive, but all the same Carlos can hear the edge to the other man's voice, as he
carefully avoids talking in any depth about where he's just been.
But Carlos knows. He can hear it. That vortex led to Desert Bluffs, and Cecil will never be the
same, for having seen what he must have seen. And on some deep level, Carlos wants to drop
everything and race across town sandstorm be damned and tell Cecil that it's going to be OK.
That you learn to live with it. That every day you're not there, you're infinitely more glad of
wherever you are.
Only if he did if he
Every time Carlos sees Cecil, he sees Kevin. And now he can hear him too.
He's never going to escape if he can't let go.
If he won't let go.
Carlos takes a deep breath, clicks the radio off, and walks away.
Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation
The closer two things are, the greater the attraction between them.
***
It's June 14th.
It's been three months since the sandstorm. Three months since Carlos last had the radio on and
he misses it, yes, but this is a necessary step and in that time he's been better. Calmer. More
focused. More scientific.
This is not to say he hasn't seen Cecil at all during those three months the man is at every single
press conference and informational event and it's impossible to avoid him completely and and
there's the part where Carlos has been calling him every now and then. Quite a few nows and
thens, if truth be told, but it's for science. It's so that he can get Cecil to spread the word about
weird happenings or potential dangers, which is sensible and so on, and it's been
it's
Why is Carlos still agonising over the man? So Cecil looks like Carlos' maniac ex and has a
massive crush on him. How is that still a thing?
it is so still a thing.
This particular afternoon, Carlos is working in his lab. He's not alone, though: Toby and Arlene
are both here, helping with the latest experiments, and if nothing else it's reducing the amount
of time Carlos spends glancing over at his chalkboard where that message is still written in the top-
right corner.
'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'
"and Frederick insists it won't actually kill anyone, but seriously, the guy is getting way out of
hand and no matter how many times he says it's because Max Planck appeared to him in a dream,
a death ray is still a death ray!"
"Too right," Toby says, looking over at Arlene as she falls silent. "Maybe we need to stage an
intervention or something. What do you think, Carlos?"
"Hm?" he says, realising only now that he hasn't been paying full attention.
"About Frederick and his death ray?"
"It's very industrious?" Carlos tries, hoping this might be the answer Toby is after.
"Industrious? It's insane!"
"The two can be alarmingly close at times," Arlene points out.
"Very true," Carlos concedes.
"Very true," Carlos concedes.
"You're somewhat distracted this afternoon," Toby says, tone careful now. "Are you OK?"
"Oh, sure, I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine," Arlene chips in, and only now does Carlos wonder if the two of them have
talked about this in advance. "You've been weird for days."
"Maybe you need a break!" Toby suggests, before Carlos can insist and by 'insist,' he means 'lie'
that he's fine again. "We could go do something fun! Like check out the Museum of
Forbidden Technologies! OK, yes, the place is maddening because they won't let you see any of
it, but you still get to be close to untold scientific wonders even if you can't actually look at them."
"Or we could go bowling!" Arlene adds. "You know, in case you want to do something less
scientific, though if we go we just have to take Vincent because he's got this algorithm for
calculating shot-angles, and"
"Much as I like bowling," Toby interrupts, looking suddenly nervous, "no way am I going near
the Fun Complex until they've sorted out the whole deal with that hidden city."
Carlos stares. "Hidden what?"
The other two both pause and glance at him in surprise. "You don't know about the hidden city?"
Arlene asks.
"It would seem not," Carlos points out.
"Well there's a hidden city," Arlene goes on, somewhat unnecessarily. "It's under the bowling
alley. Teddy Williams found it about a year ago. A bowling ball rolled through a gap in the pin
retrieval area of Lane Five and, when he went after it, he discovered an entrance into a vast,
underground cavern. There's a huge city down there, full of mysterious spires and glowing lights,
and Teddy's been convinced for a while now that the people from the city are starting to come up
here. That's what his militia is for."
Carlos stares some more. "His militia?!"
"Wow, you really need to listen to the news more," Toby says. "Yep, he's formed a militia. They
guard the place most nights now, ever since Teddy released the CCTV footage that he says is
proof someone from the city has been up on the surface."
"And no one's thought to maybe try going down there?" Carlos now asks. His curiosity is
piquing, despite how insane all this sounds, and he's suddenly possessed of an urge to investigate.
"Whoa, no," Toby replies, looking nervous. "I mean, seriously? Go down there where who-
knows-what could be waiting?"
"Sure," Carlos says. "Sounds to me like either this guy Teddy is crazy and the whole thing isn't
true, or it is true and then he's crazy for not just going down there and trying to make contact with
whoever lives in that alleged city."
He pauses, thinking about it all for a moment. He isn't sure why he's so drawn to the whole
affair but he is. And, one way or another, he needs to work out what's going on.
"I'm going to check it out," he adds, after a moment. "Someone needs to."
Both Toby and Arlene stare at him in alarm. "You can't go down there! It might be dangerous!"
Carlos shrugs. "I'm sure it will be fine. I'll be careful. I mean, what could go wrong?"
"Lots of things!" Arlene insists.
"At least do some preparatory research first," Toby says.
"Oh, that much is a given," Carlos replies, almost off-hand. "I'll look into it tonight and then go
over tomorrow. What's the name of that place again?"
"The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex," Toby tells him.
Carlos stares. Then he stares at his chalkboard. And then he takes a deep breath.
'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'
Whatever it is this is it.
***
Carlos sits on the hood of his car in the Arby's parking lot, watching the sun sink lower and lower
towards the horizon.
His mind should be racing racing! and yet he feels calmer than he has in weeks. Months. He
feels as though everything makes sense now.
It's been quite a day. He's known from the start that it would be, although the day he expected to
have still pales in comparison to the day he has had.
He aches. This is not a surprise, given that the people who really do live in the very much real
underground city tried to kill him barely an hour ago. And despite being it turns out tiny
people, those little psychopaths sure did pack a punch. Carlos doesn't think he's seen that much
blood since OK, no, don't think about that and certainly never that much of his own blood.
But he's OK. He's OK because one of Night Vale's featured resident maniacs the Apache
Tracker inexplicably leapt down into the pit after him and hauled him out before the tiny people
could overwhelm him completely. Carlos still has no idea why the guy would do a thing like that.
They've never spoken. Never had any cause to interact. And yet, not only did the Apache Tracker
save his life, he himself died as a result.
How are you supposed to process something like that? Carlos doesn't know, although he's
confident he'll dwell on it for quite a while. When it was all over, he tried to get some kind of clue
from the other people at the bowling alley some idea as to why the Apache Tracker might have
done such a thing but no one really knows much about him, beyond the fact that he's a racist
jerk, that he can apparently only speak Russian because of some sort of incident, and that he's
often reported in the company of a man in a tan jacket, who no one can remember or describe.
A man in a..? Why does that sound so..?
Carlos knows he'll dwell on this, too. But right now he has something else on his mind.
Something something so much bigger.
The strange thing about being put in a life-or-death situation about being in a moment where you
genuinely believe you might be about to die is that it has the amazing ability to sharpen the
mind. To make you see things you haven't been able to see before, or haven't let yourself see.
And Carlos sees, now. When those tiny people attacked; when he felt the pain, saw his own
blood, perceived his own fragile mortality that was the moment he finally knew.
He didn't want to die. He couldn't die. He couldn't die because he'd never told Cecil the truth.
He's spent so long denying it, running from it, hiding from it, but the reality of it all is Carlos
hasn't stopped thinking about Cecil since the moment they first met. And there's a reason for that,
and it's a reason that Carlos can't deny any more.
He nearly died. He nearly died and it made him realise that he's been letting his fear define him.
Letting his fear of the past dictate his future.
But time doesn't work here. There is only now. There is only now and, at last, Carlos understands
what he wants that now to be.
And that's why he's texted Cecil. Why he's asked the man to come and meet him right here, in the
parking lot of the Arby's. Carlos has been hiding too long. It's time to tell Cecil the truth
most of the truth. Possibly it would be best to leave out the part where his ex is Cecil's
doppelganger. It will just over-complicate things and besides it's not like it's ever going to be
relevant, right?
He sees another car pull up close by. Cecil's car. This is it.
***
The next few weeks pass in a glorious whirlwind. Cecil's joy at Carlos finally returning his
expressions of affection is impossible to miss, and Carlos finds himself being carried along by it.
And though he's nervous given that Cecil is his first boyfriend since he broke up with Kevin,
and also given that Cecil is Kevin's doppelganger Carlos manages to move beyond it all and
just enjoy this.
Because it is very enjoyable. Cecil is smart, and funny, and sweet, and genuinely interested in
learning more about science, which is a big help because Carlos talks about it a lot. He's also a
perfect gentleman. They go on several dates, and at the end of each one he drives Carlos home,
and though there's always a hopeful look in his eyes as they say goodbye in the car, outside
Carlos' apartment, he never pushes for anything more. And though he does have a tendency to
talk about their dates the next day on the radio to which Carlos is now regularly listening again
he never gives away too much, and he never sounds anything other than utterly delighted by how
their new relationship is going.
Their initial few dates are a little eventful. Their first date takes place amidst the growing
menace of some strange, buzzing shadow beings who briefly replace almost all of the people of
Night Vale, and who Carlos does have to play a minor role in thwarting. Their second date is
interrupted by the arrival of the Glow Cloud; furiously drunk and in a rage after having been stood
up on a date of its own, and set on making the helpless citizens of the town fight for its amusement
as a coping mechanism.
Carlos will never look at parking meters the same way, even if the bruises don't last for long.
Their third date takes place mostly in the community radio station, when a minor technical mishap
surrounds the whole building with a swarm of potentially sentient lightning that vaporises anyone
it touches. The station loses two interns that day, though the date is saved from being a complete
disaster because Carlos is already in the building, having come in to carry out some tests on a
small ball of blue energy that has taken to following Cecil wherever he goes and which is
ultimately discovered to be the cause of all the angry lightning.
But then things start to calm down. They start to calm down and become almost sort of normal?
If, indeed, there could ever be such a thing as 'normal' in Night Vale.
And it's kind of awesome. Very awesome. Both how right it feels, and how right Cecil feels.
All of this is running through Carlos' mind this particular evening as, once more, Cecil drives him
home. They've had another lovely date, and Carlos is very much aware that he doesn't want it to
end here. He wants he wants to move this forward.
He wants he wants.
He's scared again. Scared of what it will mean if he takes this step. Scared of how it will feel to be
with Cecil, having been with Kevin. Scared of what will happen if Cecil ever finds out about all
that.
But he can't be scared forever. Fear was what kept him from this for so long.
Cecil parks the car outside Carlos' apartment.
"I had a great time tonight," he says, looking over at Carlos.
"Me too," Carlos tells him. "Really great. And I was you know, I was wondering"
The hope in Cecil's eyes is suddenly clear and unashamed, and Carlos realises just how much he
likes seeing it there.
"do you maybe want to come in?"
If the hope is good to see, it's nothing compared to the utter joy that registers in the other man's
expression at those words.
"I'd love to," Cecil tells him.
So they both climb from the car and Carlos leads the way up to the front door, unlocking it and
letting them inside. They step into the little hallway, Carlos shutting the door again, and OK,
wow, this hallway is very small with two of them and they're standing really close, and
All of a sudden they're kissing hard, and yes, they've kissed plenty of times before, but not like
this. The need is palpable and undeniable and really, really good. Carlos holds on tight, letting
Cecil kiss him, and oh, but how long has he needed this? How long has he made the other man
wait for something they apparently both need more than oxygen?
They do still need oxygen, though. Cecil breaks the kiss with a breathy little gasp that's positively
delicious, and then there's a moment where they're staring at each other from very close up. A
moment where they can be understood without the requirement for words.
A moment where some part of Carlos that he long thought he'd left behind in Desert Bluffs is
silently daring Cecil to make a move.
And it works.
Cecil pushes Carlos against the nearest wall, which sends a wave of anticipation racing through
him. Anticipation and need and OK, yes, a little fear too. Because this all of this it means
so much, and it's terrifying because Cecil is so familiar and yet so not, and
"You're shaking," the other man points out, gently; hesitating over the next round of kissing that
he was obviously about to initiate. His eyes are so intense and Carlos is caught in them now but
not trying to get away. Oh no. Far from it.
"I'm scared," he admits. "I I want this to be right. I really want this to be right. I just it's
been such a long time, and I I had a very bad breakup before I moved here, and"
Cecil puts a hand over Carlos' heart, which is racing. "It's all right," he whispers. "I'd never hurt
you. Whatever's happened in the past it won't be like that. You're safe with me."
And Carlos knows he is. He presses in against Cecil's chest, arms wrapped around him, curling in
tight, and he can feel it, in the way Cecil holds him in.
He is safe.
"Take me to bed, Cecil," he whispers. "I want you to. I need you to."
"There's nothing in the whole world I want more," Cecil whispers back. "Nothing."
He looks to the side and then meets Carlos' eyes again, with a flicker of a grin. "Which way?" he
asks.
"Oh, sorry, yes, that way," Carlos replies, headtilting off to the right, in the direction of the living
room and beyond it his bedroom. If nothing else, it's best they don't go left as that leads to his
lab, and they probably shouldn't have sex in there.
Not the first time, at least.
Cecil grins again and kisses him, slow and gentle, and it's only now that Carlos processes that the
other man must be nervous too. It's so hard to think of Cecil as anything other than unflappably
calm and collected because that's how he sounds on the radio even though Carlos has seen the
guy go to pieces more than once whilst trying to have a conversation with him.
It's completely adorable. It's also very unique to him. As in it doesn't remind Carlos of
OK, no, don't think about that. Him. Don't.
Cecil slowly starts to direct them both through into the central area of Carlos' apartment a
decent-sized living room with a small kitchen towards the back and further onwards in the
direction of the door that he's obviously correctly surmised leads into the bedroom.
They move slowly, kissing over and over as they go, every touch calming the constant storm of
thoughts inside Carlos' mind. It's hard not to be apprehensive all the same, but the truth of the
matter is that he enjoys it, and the balance of the two makes this interesting.
"Please," Carlos whispers, as Cecil starts kissing his neck in just the right place; the place that
makes him feel light-headed and suddenly needy.
"You're so amazingly beautiful," Cecil says to him, hands starting to slip under clothes. "I never
thought I'd be so lucky"
He strips them both slowly, taking his time, kissing gently over skin as it's uncovered, and Carlos
normally very hands-on just lets him, drifting in the contact more and more. Lost in the man
who finally lays him back on the bed, pressed in over him, skin to skin.
"I want you so badly," Cecil whispers, almost as if hesitant to admit it, as if doing so might
somehow cause the moment to shatter and fall around them like shards of broken crystal.
But it doesn't. Oh no. It just makes this point of barely-perceptible time all the more perfect.
"I know," Carlos replies. "I know. I wanted to be wanted but just by you."
Cecil kisses him hard at that, the contact dizzying and blissful, and then he pauses a second,
staring at Carlos as if reading the look in his eyes. As if checking, one last time, that this really is
OK.
He's so wonderful it makes Carlos' chest ache, in all the right ways.
And then Cecil pushes a hand down between them, between Carlos' legs, starting to stroke him
slowly, firmly, and oh but the contact is so electric that Carlos feels as though all the air has been
knocked from his lungs.
It's been a long time. Such a long, long time, but that isn't the only reason Carlos is already half
out of his own mind. It's because it's Cecil, and, seriously, how could Carlos have ever made them
wait this long?
But it doesn't matter now. They're here. This is right. This is so right that Carlos has to reach up
and wrap both arms around Cecil, holding on for a long moment, not only because it's a
wonderful sensation but because he feels like the world is inverting, and he's got to hold on just to
stay here.
And from the look in Cecil's eyes he's a little out of his mind with happiness too. But there's
more to it than that. There's more to it, and as Carlos' awareness of that fact builds, it only makes
his own need increase.
The other man presses in closer. "Tell me how that feels," he whispers, and though his voice is
soft and careful, it's also like liquid sex and starlight; dark and deep and beautiful. And pulling
Carlos further and further down.
"Amazing," he manages to reply, aware he already sounds wrecked and looks it, too, as he lets
his arms drop back on the bed, spread wide open; as he is, body and soul, beneath the other man.
"Just Cecil, Cecil, please don't stop"
"I won't," Cecil tells him. "I won't. I've got you now. I've got you."
And the way he says it it's as though he's trying to remind himself of this fact as much as
Carlos. As if he still can't quite believe his luck. But at the same time, the sheer possession in his
tone is dizzying and wonderful and exactly what Carlos needs. And he'd happily let Cecil drive
him right out of his mind like this. Very happily.
Except he wants to go all the way. All the way.
A little shyly, he puts a hand up, resting it on the side of Cecil's face. "Slower," he whispers, even
though it's almost painful how much the need flares when Cecil does as Carlos asks. "Slower. I
I want to give you more. Want to give you everything."
More than everything. He wants to give Cecil time and space itself. Wants to re-write the laws of
physics so that the universe really does bend around him. Wants wants.
Keeping eye-contact, Carlos does that little headtilt again; now towards the nightstand.
"Top drawer," he whispers, not elaborating. Knowing Cecil will realise when he looks.
It's possible Cecil already realises, though he doesn't say anything just yet, and instead leans over
to tug the drawer open and retrieve the object the small bottle of lubricant that's inside.
"You're sure?" he whispers, a questioning look in his eyes as he settles back into place.
"Of course I'm sure," Carlos whispers back. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life.
And I once proved this theorem where OK, no you don't need to hear about that right
now"
"You should tell me later, though," Cecil adds, with a smile. "You know I like listening to you
talk science."
"Well, then, I'll explain it in depth," Carlos promises. "Maybe even using the chalkboard. And
string."
"You need string to explain a mathematical theorem?"
"You do in Night Vale."
It's possible they're both nervous.
Cecil presses in to kiss him perhaps trying to rectify the nervousness and perhaps just because it
feels so very good and then pours a little of the lubricant onto one hand, slipping it down
between Carlos' legs once more.
And pushing a finger into him, just one finger, though even that makes Carlos suddenly wrap
both arms up around Cecil again, holding on tight.
"Is that..?" Cecil starts out, but Carlos manages to relax his own grip on the other man, moving
one hand to lay fingers over Cecil's lips.
"It's amazing," Carlos reassures him. "It's just been a long oh a long time. But if you stop, I
think the world will end"
"Then I won't stop."
And he doesn't. And though every movement is slow and careful, it still feels breathlessly
wonderful. More than enough to start pushing Carlos out of his own mind, and even more so
when with a flash of a smile that nearly makes reality invert Cecil slips a second finger in
alongside the first.
"Yes," Carlos gasps. "Yes yes that, oh so much that"
"You know you're ridiculously hot like this?" Cecil says, in that soft, certain voice that makes
Carlos want to flat-out beg him never to stop talking.
"I'm oh yes yes glad you approve," Carlos just about manages. "I'm hoping you might
want to see it more often"
Oh dear. His mental filter is down. And they've got a long way to go yet.
Cecil looks even more delighted, and still there's nothing underhanded or ulterior in his eyes.
Nothing at all.
Merciful Einstein, he's one in a million.
"I'd like that," Cecil replies. "I'd like that a lot."
Carlos smiles, and he can feel it that pure, perfect happiness he didn't think he'd ever get back,
and it's as though the whole world has just dropped away to leave this: only this.
Only them.
Still holding eye contact, Cecil gently pulls his fingers free and reaches for the lubricant again.
Carlos takes a deep breath, knowing what's coming, and wanting it more than he can put into
words.
And then the other man is pushing into him, slow and careful, watching his eyes the whole time,
and that look is so intense that Carlos is sure Cecil is sliding inside his mind as much as his body.
He gasps again, whispering in barely-coherent need; whispers that Cecil finally calms with a kiss,
deep and caring but also full of a sudden hunger that leaves Carlos utterly breathless.
But it's nothing compared to the way all the oxygen is knocked from his lungs when Cecil starts to
move, and it's as though the whole world has just broken in two around them, revealing all the
beautiful intricacy of creation itself.
And still, all Carlos sees is Cecil.
"Don't stop," he whispers, and oh but he really means it this time. "Oh, Cecil, don't stop."
"You feel so amazing," Cecil whispers back, right in his ear. "I can't can't put into words how
much I"
"I know I know."
He does know. The whole world makes sense now. Perfect, wonderful sense; and every moment,
every movement, is bliss, gradually pushing Carlos further and further out of his own mind and
into the cool, dark hinterlands beyond. He reaches up to hold on tight again, pulling Cecil in for
another kiss, and another, and another, until everything is just a wash of sensation and pleasure
and absolute, total rightness.
Which is when Cecil slides a hand down to start stroking Carlos once more, and it's all so much
that he can suddenly feel the edge; the edge he so badly wants to tumble right over. "Yes!" he cries
out, half-wrecked and desperate. "Yes like that please please"
"Anything," Cecil breathes against his lips, the declaration and the promise like the fiery glow of
sunrise; bright and brilliant and undeniable. "Anything. Don't hold back. I have you. I have you."
And maybe it's this that finally kicks Carlos over the edge. Maybe it's those words, that realisation,
that promise. All he knows is that, with a sudden cry, he's coming hard; the world whiting out as
absolute completion overtakes, rushing through him in wave after wave of bliss.
"Cecil!" he gasps. "Cecil!"
It's clearly this that finally undoes Cecil, his eyes suddenly wide with delight and adoration, and
even as Carlos' own climax starts to abate he's holding onto Cecil as the other man's thunders
through him. Cecil holds him back just as tightly, whispering Carlos' name with something like
rapture in his voice before pressing into the crook of his neck and drawing rough breath until the
moment finally begins to fade.
And then they just collapse into each other, curled around one another as though that connection is
the very essence of life itself. It's a good couple of minutes before either one can speak or move,
but they're very lovely, comfortable minutes nonetheless.
"Thank you," Cecil finally manages, his own voice a little wrecked too, in a way that's just
positively delicious. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," Carlos murmurs back.
"Yes I do. That was that was amazing."
"Then the feeling is mutual."
After another moment, Cecil carefully rolls them both onto their sides, gathering Carlos tighter into
his arms and still holding on.
"You're you're staying, right?" Carlos whispers.
"Of course I am," Cecil promises. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Even a combination of all
the other places I might quite like to be wouldn't come close to how much I want to be here."
He's rambling again, like he used to before they started dating. It's adorable.
"Good," Carlos says, with a smile. "Because all I want right now is to fall asleep in your arms,
and to know you'll be there when I wake up."
"I'll be here," Cecil replies. "Unless I've snuck out to make you breakfast in bed."
"Much as that does sound lovely," Carlos whispers, "I can think of other things I'd rather be doing
in bed in the morning"
This makes Cecil's eyes go suddenly dark with pleasure and amusement. "I should have known,"
he says. "It's always the quiet ones"
"Oh, absolutely," Carlos tells him. "And I can prove it. With graphs. Or, you know in other
ways."
"I'm going to hold you to that."
"I'm counting on it, Cecil," Carlos whispers, curling in tighter. "I'm counting on it."
***
When Carlos wakes up, the first thing he's aware of is that he isn't alone.
On the contrary, he's still curled close to Cecil, wrapped in the other man's arms, and it is quite
possibly the most wonderful feeling in all the world. For a few minutes, Carlos doesn't move,
content to just lie where he is, held and wanted and safe.
"Hey," Cecil murmurs, all of a sudden.
"Hey," Carlos whispers back, finally opening his eyes and looking up at him. "How did you
know I was awake?"
"I could tell by the way the rhythm of your breathing changed."
Something about this is strangely adorable.
Cecil strokes a hand over Carlos' shoulder. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Better than I have in years."
This is something of an understatement. Carlos has never been one to sleep well, but he's
confident he's been out all night, without waking once. And moreover, he feels like he could just
lie here for hours, drifting on the edge of wakefulness and yet utterly content.
Only this is when Cecil chooses to roll Carlos onto his back, slipping into place on top of him, and
the movement makes his heart start to race again but in a very, very good way.
"Last night was amazing," Cecil says, and it's there in his voice just how much he means it.
"You weren't so bad yourself" Carlos manages, blushing. "I feel wonderful."
He does. It's like the whole world has gone quiet, right down to a molecular level, and there's
nothing but this room, this place, this connection. Them. Him. And everything else, all of the
worry and danger and the heavy, ominous past it's all faded back. For the first time in forever,
he can't feel any of it.
Cecil looks delighted beyond words, and presses in to kiss him, full of joy and want, and it's just
intoxicating to experience it. To be the reason for it. To be the target of it.
Carlos wraps his arms up around Cecil and kisses him back, over and over until they have to
break for oxygen.
"You know," Cecil says, "it is Sunday. Which means we don't have to move for ages."
"Very true," Carlos agrees. "Also, time doesn't exist, especially here. So, scientifically-speaking
we have forever."
This makes Cecil's eyes light up all the more. "I can't argue with that," he replies. "I'm very into
science."
"I know," Carlos reminds him, with a suddenly wicked flash in his own eyes. "Oh, I know"
***
Eventually they do have to get up. They aren't exactly quick over this process either, but given
that it's a Sunday and also given that time doesn't exist they don't have to be.
As they're finishing breakfast, Carlos notices that Cecil keeps glancing down towards the hallway,
at the one door he hasn't been through yet. Realising the other man must be intrigued, Carlos gives
a little grin.
"That's my lab," he explains. "Would you like to see?"
"Definitely," Cecil replies, looking delighted by the invitation. "You know my feelings on
science."
Carlos can't quite hide the way his expression lights up at that, especially given the new and recent
set of memories it now evokes. "So does half the town," he says but warmly and he gets up,
leading the way down to the door and opening it, gesturing Cecil into the room beyond.
"Whoa," Cecil breathes, taking in the sight. "It's everything I imagined. You've got quite a set-
up here. Can I..?"
Carlos nods, and Cecil starts to walk slowly down the central aisle, looking around. "I'll be
careful," he promises. "I don't want to accidentally end the universe, or condemn us all to a
lifetime without electricity, or some other calamity. I know you can never be too careful where
science is concerned."
This makes Carlos grin again. "I don't think I'm quite equipped to end the universe," he says,
although this being Night Vale you can never be sure.
Cecil paces further down, eyes wide with interest and excitement.
"You like it?" Carlos finally asks, unable to resist.
"I love it. What are you working on?"
Carlos gives a little shrug. "All kinds of things. I'm still trying to make sense of those massive
seismic readings we keep picking up despite there never having been an earthquake the entire
time I've lived here and every now and then I repeat my tests on the clocks, in the hopes of
finding one that's actually real. Oh, and I've been trying to develop a form of ink that the City
Council will class as legal, because you have no idea how difficult it is to do scientific research in
a town where writing implements are banned"
He gestures at one of the workbenches, where there's a collection of interconnected tubes and
glassware with something bubbling away in it; something that's currently a rather alarming shade
of red and glowing intermittently.
"Though it hasn't been a total success thus far," he admits, looking at it with his head on one
side, wishing he knew why it was still such an unhelpful colour. "But I'll get there eventually."
Cecil smiles. "I know you will," he says. "You always do."
"Oh, and there's this," Carlos adds, waving at a small, rounded stone about the size of a golf ball,
with intricate carvings all over its surface. He's been waiting weeks for a good opportunity to tell
Cecil about this one. "A couple of guys from my team found it out in the desert."
"What is it?"
"We're not entirely sure. But when you hold it, you become incapable of speaking words that
include the letter E."
"That's odd."
"Very," Carlos agrees. "And quite awkward. Things got extremely confusing before we worked
out what was going on."
'Extremely confusing' is something of an understatement. It took them hours to calm Toby down
afterwards.
"I can imagine."
Except that memory sparks off a different, connected memory in Carlos' head, and he feels
suddenly nervous again, for the first time this morning. Cecil clearly picks up on it, because after a
moment he walks back over, carefully taking Carlos' hand and holding it against his own chest.
"What is it?" he asks, softly.
"I" Carlos starts out, and then stops, pausing to bite his lip. He opens his mouth to speak again
but then decides otherwise and instead grabs hold of Cecil and pulls him in to kiss.
It feels very lovely, and Cecil certainly doesn't object to it. The other man keeps hold of him when
the kiss breaks, watching his eyes with care. "You don't have to worry," Cecil tells him. "We can
take this as slow as you need. I told you I won't ever, ever hurt you."
Maybe he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's just more wonderful than Carlos ever
dared hope.
Maybe there are things Carlos should say at this point.
But he doesn't.
"I know," Carlos replies. "And I regret nothing, Cecil. Nothing. I promise you that."
Cecil pulls him in to kiss again, and every touch, every point of contact, chases back the anxiety.
The uncertainty. Chases it back and replaces it with this, with them.
Them.
There's a smile on Carlos' lips when they break again. It's a nervous smile, yes, but a real one
nonetheless. He can do this. He wants to do this. More than he can even put into words.
"Show me some science?" Cecil asks. "I mean, I can't exactly tell my listeners about last night
so I need something else to tell them instead."
"All right," Carlos agrees. It is, after all, a good idea. Science can be so soothing. "You want to
see what's really in the clocks?"
Cecil grins. "I thought you'd never ask."
***
The next couple of months are an admittedly insane joy beyond all telling. Now that he and
Cecil are finally together, it's as though a great weight has lifted off Carlos' mind. He can think
clearer. Work more effectively. And he feels infinitely better for it. Better than he has in in ever,
really. He even finds himself starting to finally get used to how weird Night Vale is, even if he
doesn't think he'll ever just accept it the way Cecil does.
But that doesn't matter. Sometimes there's a lot to be said for having a little weirdness in your
life.
Time passes, at whatever rate it does in Night Vale, and it's good. At long last, Carlos finds
himself feeling safe here and not just when he's wrapped in Cecil's arms, breathless and
euphoric and more wanted than he thinks his mind knows how to process.
Because he is. Wanted. Safe.
And then, one afternoon, Carlos is heading back to his apartment along the warm, sun-kissed
streets. He's been over at Toby and Arlene's place, helping them with some of the latest seismic
data, and now he's on his way home. It's early and Cecil is probably still on air, which means
Carlos will have time to listen to the recording of today's show before the man himself calls.
This is happening a lot now. One of them will call the other, pretty much every afternoon, and
they'll end up spending the evening at either of their places, and
it sort of makes Carlos wonder if maybe they should consider
no. It's too soon. Isn't it? Or
this warrants further thought.
this warrants further thought.
He's dragged from said thoughts by a sound high above, and looks up in time to see a pair of
helicopters come flying overhead. Carlos has long gotten used to the helicopters that are frequently
in the sky over Night Vale even more than the ones he used to see over in Desert Bluffs so
usually he pays them no mind at all.
But today something makes him look up. Maybe it's the way people on the street are stopping
and staring. Maybe it's just instinct.
And when Carlos looks up at those two helicopters, he feels like his heart is going to stop. They're
yellow. Yellow helicopters, with an emblem on the side: an orange triangle marked with the letter
S.
Carlos has seen helicopters like these before. Seen that emblem before.
"Strexcorp" he whispers, in a horror so deep he can hardly process it. "No. No. Not here.
Not now"
As if in answer, his phone starts to ring. He pulls it out, seeing Cecil's name on the screen, and
takes the call at once.
"Cecil?" he says, knowing the worry is clear and unhidden in his voice. "Cecil, are you all right?"
"Uh yes, except also no," Cecil replies. His voice sounds worried too, and Carlos knows it
takes a lot to get that kind of reaction from his boyfriend. "Do you maybe want to meet up this
evening and I'll tell you all about it?"
"Yes," Carlos tells him. "Yes. Just tell me when and where."
***
Carlos sits in Cecil's living room, staring at him, trying to process the words he's just heard.
"Strexcorp bought the radio station?"
Cecil nods. He looks more concerned than Carlos has ever seen him, and that alone is very
unsettling.
"They're moving into Night Vale," Cecil says. "The helicopters were the first wave, but just this
afternoon they started buying out businesses all over the place. They've been in town less than five
hours and early estimates are they already own seven percent of it."
"Of the entire town?" Carlos exclaims. "That's fast, even for them"
This makes Cecil look over at him in surprise. "'Even for them?' You know Strexcorp?"
Carlos immediately realises he's said too much. "Uh yes, well, I've heard of them," he says. "I
mean only in passing, but they've got quite a reputation. They're ah they're from that other
town just over, aren't they? Desert Bluffs"
Cecil's expression darkens. "Yes. That that terrible place."
The shadows are there in his eyes again the shadows that only the mention of Desert Bluffs can
provoke and on some level Carlos wants to talk to him about it. Wants to talk to him about the
day of the sandstorm, about what he saw, and about the flickers of things that have come to light
since then.
But he can't. He can't because, if he does, he'll eventually have to admit
He can't. He can't tell Cecil about Kevin.
He can't.
Wordlessly, Carlos pushes into Cecil's arms for a hug, and the other man wraps him in tight. And
that that helps. He rests against Cecil's chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting the contact soothe
him.
"You're more unsettled than I thought you'd be," Cecil points out, very carefully, after a long
moment. "I figured you might be a bit concerned but seriously, are you OK?"
"I'm fine," Carlos flat-out lies, and oh how he hates himself for doing it. Why can't he just tell
Cecil the truth?
The answer to this is, sadly, obvious. If he tells Cecil the truth, he risks losing everything they
have now. Risks losing the one good thing to happen to him in in forever. And he can't do that.
He can't. The thought of being alone again is
and he's remembering, now. Remembering headlights on a dark road, and the glow of Desert
Bluffs in the rear-view mirror. Remembering figures walking through the haze. Remembering
remembering the man he thought he loved, with a blood-streaked knife in one hand and a demon
at his back
"You're shaking," Cecil points out. "Carlos what is it? Tell me. Please."
"I I just I worry about you," Carlos says. Which is true, oh yes, but it's far from the whole
truth. "I know those guys are are bad news, and I I don't want anything to happen to you,
Cecil, because I I love you."
He's never said it before, but he means it perhaps more than he's ever meant anything in his life.
And yet, saying it now fills him with a guilt he can't put into words, because he's saying it as a
distraction. He's saying it to stop Cecil from asking what's wrong again.
Because Carlos doesn't know if he could avoid answering a second time.
Instead instead, Cecil pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, staring at him as if the whole
world has suddenly fallen into place. "You you love me?" he whispers, sounding as stunned
and as hopeful as he did that evening in the Arby's parking lot.
Carlos nods. "Yes. I love you."
"I love you too. I thought I mean, I wasn't sure if you but you do, and I"
He's going to pieces again, and that makes it all the more painful, because Cecil only ever goes to
pieces over things that really, really matter. But Carlos doesn't need this as proof of how much the
man means what he's saying. His voice alone is enough.
Cecil puts a hand on the side of Carlos' face and pulls him in to kiss, deep but gentle and so full of
love.
And it hurts. It hurts.
In all the right ways.
In retrospect this was another warning sign.
***
Cecil and Carlos stand on the roadside, looking at the house in front of them and as they do,
there's a moment where they both instinctively reach to grip each other's hands.
And that's how they know. That's how Carlos knows.
This is it.
They've been house-hunting for a few weeks now, ever since the incident with the condos. That
was a very strange day, even by Night Vale's standards. Very, very strange. And though Carlos
is still having some extremely odd dreams, there doesn't seem to have been any lasting damage
done.
On the contrary. The insanity and the danger and the near-death experience (or whatever
'achieving perfection' really meant) of that day were just the impetus Carlos needed. He'd seized
the moment; seized it whilst he was still sprawled out on the concrete, Cecil leaning over him,
both of them looking back at the vast, featureless black cube that whatever it was wasn't good
news.
And now they're house-hunting. It's a tricky process, given that neither of them is willing to go
through any of the Strexcorp realtors, but there are still a few left in Night Vale who haven't yet
been bought out.
Cecil spends some time explaining to Carlos that realtors live inside deer, and in the end Carlos
just nods and accepts it. Sometimes that's the best option.
"This is it," Cecil breathes, staring ahead at the house in front of them both.
"Yes," Carlos replies, gripping his hand tighter. "This this is it."
This is it. This is the place where not now, but soon he's going to tell Cecil the truth.
Right?
Chapter End Notes
I have wanted to write Cecil and Carlos' first time for months but have never been
able to get it to work. Turns out what I needed to do was add an angsty backstory!
There is something very wrong with me...
The Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics
If two systems are in balance with a third, they must also be in balance with each other.
***
Things in Night Vale go from bad to worse. As the weeks roll by, Strexcorp's grip on the town
grows ever stronger. More and more businesses are bought out or forced out and the mood of
the populace begins to darken. Between the disappearances, the youth militia, the vastly increased
censorship and the deeply bizarre incident with the oranges, Carlos doesn't know how much
longer the situation can last before something or someone snaps.
But Carlos has Cecil, and they have a place together, and for a long time that keeps both of them
going.
The trouble is Carlos knows he's let this go too far. He's let their lives become utterly entwined
and inseparable which he wants very much but without ever telling Cecil the truth. And with
every day that passes, it becomes harder to live with. Harder to deny.
And the risk Cecil will find out some other way increases exponentially. There are graphs. Mental
graphs, that keep Carlos awake night after night.
He's dug himself into a very deep hole and he has no idea how to get out of it.
This particular morning, he comes wandering into the kitchen to find Cecil already here, sitting at
the table with a cup of coffee next to him, and his phone in one hand.
"Good morning, sleepy," Cecil says, looking up and smiling. "I wondered if I was going to have
to come wake you." The smile gets just a tiny bit wicked. "Did I tire you out again?"
Carlos blushes. "You kinda did," he replies. "You're good at that."
Cecil reaches to grip Carlos' hand, pulling him closer and kissing his knuckles. "There's coffee in
the pot if you want some."
"That might be a good idea" Carlos agrees, and heads over to pour himself a cup. "What are
you reading?"
"Transcripts of the numbers broadcast by WZZZ last night," Cecil tells him. "One of these days, I
am going to work out what that is all about."
He's been like this for two weeks now, ever since the day WZZZ's transmissions went seriously
weird and Cecil took it on himself to go investigate. Since that day the transmissions have gone
back to normal as much as a numbers station could ever be considered 'normal' but Cecil
remains convinced there's a message hidden in the numbers, and has formed a small internet group
to try to work it out.
"What time are you heading to work?" Carlos asks, settling at the breakfast table with his cup of
coffee.
Cecil glances up at him again. "You know it's Saturday, right?"
"It is?"
"Yes. Saturday March 15th, if we're being precise which I know you usually are and oh
oh"
The way his expression changes speaks volumes, and Carlos knows it would have been
impossible to miss even if he hadn't reached the same realisation at exactly the same moment.
"March 15th?" he repeats, softly. "That's
"Sandstorm Day," Cecil replies. "One year since"
Their eyes meet, and it's weird because, in that moment Carlos feels like he could tell Cecil
everything. He could tell him everything, and Cecil would understand, because both of them have
their own reasons for being unsettled for being terrified by Desert Bluffs. By the sandstorm.
By what it all represents.
This is it. Sweet and merciful Einstein, this is it.
"Cecil, I"
Cecil's phone starts to ring, interrupting Carlos before he can get another word out. Cecil looks
apologetic. "Uh sorry, it's the station calling, I should probably take this."
He hits a button and lifts the phone to his ear. "Hello? Oh. Hi, Daniel"
The look of distaste on his face is clear, and Carlos sympathises. He hasn't actually met Cecil's
Strexcorp-issue producer, but he's heard more than enough stories.
"Uh right, right, I see. Well, if it's so yes, I get what you're saying. Yes, OK. I'll be there in
an hour. Yes." A very long-suffering sigh. "Goodbye, Daniel."
And he hangs up.
"What was that all about?" Carlos asks.
Cecil does not look pleased. "That was the delightful Daniel. He says there's an emergency
meeting for all radio station employees taking place in an hour and I need to be there."
"On a Saturday?" Carlos replies.
"Yep."
"They can do that?"
"Strexcorp doesn't do weekends. And I don't think it would be wise to argue. Not after how much
trouble I've been in since the day I climbed up on the roof"
"Oh, Cecil, don't remind me. I nearly had a fit when I realised what you were doing. Did
Daniel say what the meeting was about?"
"Apparently there's a team of Strex higher-ups coming to town," Cecil tells him. "And whoever
these people are, they want to see us all. It isn't just us. The meeting's being held outside the radio
station because it's easy to find, but there's going to be employees from various businesses turning
up."
"Sounds serious," Carlos replies. "Just just be careful, OK?"
"You could come along, if you want," Cecil says, sounding suddenly hopeful. "Daniel says it's
open-forum, so there's no reason why not."
Much as Carlos would prefer to stay as far away from anyone Strexcorp-related especially
'higher-ups' as possible, he isn't going to abandon Cecil at a time like this.
Not when things are already so bad.
Not on Sandstorm Day.
"All right," Carlos agrees. "Then I'd better go jump in the shower."
"Me too," Cecil adds. "Possibly at the same time. To speed things along."
Carlos gives him something of a look. "That won't speed things along, Cecil."
It doesn't.
***
Despite being somewhat distracted, they make it to the radio station just in time. There's quite a
crowd outside already the radio station staff, along with representatives from a number of other
local Strex-owned businesses all milling around and talking amongst themselves, trying to guess
at what's going on.
"Cecil," comes a smooth, female voice, and someone makes their way over as Cecil and Carlos
approach the large group. "So glad you made it."
"Uh absolutely," Cecil replies. "Of course. It isn't as though I have anything important to do on
a Saturday, after all. And oh, I'm sorry, Lauren, this is Carlos, my boyfriend. Carlos, this this
is Lauren, our programme director."
The woman in question Lauren gives Carlos a look that makes him want to run as far away as
possible. She's tall and sharply-dressed, with a Strexcorp pin badge on her lapel, and a flicker in
her eyes that Carlos has seen too many times before. A flicker that's too reminiscent of things he'd
rather forget. And right now, she's staring at him the way a hawk watches a fieldmouse.
Hungrily.
This is not exactly a surprise. The woman did threaten him, not all that subtly, live on air just a
few weeks back, and Carlos has been looking over his shoulder ever since.
She can't do anything now, though. Right?
"Ah," Lauren says, as if aware she's been staring in silence for an over-long moment. "Carlos,
yes. The brilliant scientist. Nice to meet you in person at last. You're even more impressive than
you look in your surveillance photos and oh, hold that thought, I think we're good to go."
Cecil grips Carlos' hand tighter, as Lauren gives them both one last stare and makes her way to the
head of the crowd.
"Good morning everyone, and thank you for coming at such short notice," she begins, after
holding up a hand for silence. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Lauren Mallard,
holding up a hand for silence. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Lauren Mallard,
programme director right here at Night Vale Community Radio. I know you must be wondering
why we've called you all together, so I'll get right to it. A number of my colleagues from the
Strexcorp management chain are coming to Night Vale in fact, they're here already to lead the
next stage of our operations here in the town. Since they will be working closely with all of us
and since team spirit is at the heart of the Strexcorp business model they are beginning by
meeting everyone informally. So this is your chance to get to know the people who will be driving
performance from here on in, and ask any questions you may have. And aha, here they are
now"
Everyone turns, as a group of people come walking round the corner towards them; walking in
unison like a street gang but so much more corporate. There's seven in total, six of whom are
dressed in black suits with bright orange ties, which would be more than enough to scare Carlos
half to death if he wasn't utterly transfixed and soul-crushingly paralysed by the sight of the
seventh man. The seventh man who is walking at the head of the group; almost glowing in the
late-morning sunshine and yet darker than the deepest depths of night.
Carlos can't breathe. Can't move. Can't speak.
The seventh man is Kevin.
"What?" he hears Cecil breathe at his side, gripping his hand again in shock. "I but that's"
Run, every fibre of Carlos' being screams out. Run. Grab Cecil and run far, far away. Anywhere.
Anywhere but here. Run, and never come back.
But he still can't move.
"Well, hello, Night Vale," Kevin says, stepping up and addressing the crowd with the brightest
smile on his face. "I must say, it's such an honour to be here you know, again." He gives a
sheepish little look, as if everyone was in on the secret. "For those of you who don't know, my
name is Kevin and I work over at Night Vale Community Radio's sister station in Desert Bluffs,
so I asked to have this first meeting right here on friendly turf. I've been once before, of course,
although I didn't know it at the time. Once before, exactly one year ago, in fact. Happy Sandstorm
Day! I think that was quite a turning point in all our lives I know it was a turning point in mine
and I'm just so happy to be back here on the first anniversary of that game-changing incident"
A lot of people are staring. Some of them are probably processing the words, but Carlos is
confident they're all stuck on the same thought:
Kevin is identical to Cecil.
"Oh, I see that look in your eyes," Kevin goes on, with a little wave. "I was prepared for this in
advance, of course. I know I have one or two things in common with your own community radio
host, Cecil. Is he here? I did so hope that"
The crowd parts at this, so that Cecil and Kevin can see each other clearly for the first time, and
the way Kevin's expression lights up as their eyes meet is terrifying.
"Wow," he breathes, taking a few steps closer, walking along the corridor the crowd has formed
between them. "Even knowing about you in advance and having technically met you once
before couldn't quite prepare me for wow. We are completely identical, aren't we?"
"Apart from the voice," Cecil points out, very dryly.
"Yes, apart from the voice," Kevin agrees, unfazed, and moving gradually closer, step by step.
"Helpful, really, seeing as we both do radio! I must tell you, hand on heart," a gesture he actually
makes, "that I'm just delighted to meet you properly at last. I don't know how long I'm going to be
here for but I'm sure we can work together in a way no one else could. We're connected, Cecil. I
can feel it, I know you can feel it, I'm sure everyone here can feel it, and"
And that's the moment when Carlos snaps. He's been lurking in the crowd, trying to stay out of
Kevin's line of sight only Cecil's presence keeping him from full-on running for it but those
last words are so threatening that he can't keep quiet any longer.
He can't. He's been hiding all this time and now it's time to stop.
Carlos steps in front of Cecil, staring Kevin down. He doesn't know what to say and he's not
entirely confident he could get a word out right now if he tried so he settles for the strongest
glower he can manage.
And for a second one glorious second it's so worth it. The look on Kevin's face as he sees
Carlos for the first time is one of utter shock, and he's clearly thrown.
The trouble is, Kevin is very good at recovering from things like this. And Carlos? Carlos really
isn't.
"Oh my," Kevin breathes. "Well, this is just perfect. You really didn't run all that far away, did
you?"
"I did," Carlos insists, somehow finding the breath to speak. "I just came back again."
"So I see," Kevin replies, and then his eyes flick from Carlos to Cecil and then return to Carlos, as
he clearly works out what's going on. "And oh. Oh. This is exactly how it looks, isn't it? You
and Cecil? Oh, Carlos, Carlos, you've certainly got a type, haven't you?"
"Carlos?" Cecil says, stepping in closer behind him and putting a hand on his hip and the
way the man's voice shakes as he speaks almost destroys Carlos on the spot. "You you know
him?"
"Oh," Kevin breathes, briefly clapping a hand to his mouth in surprise. "You haven't told him?"
"Told me what?" Cecil whispers. "I"
"Don't you dare say it," Carlos hisses at Kevin. "Don't you dare say another word. You're not
surprised to see me. Not really. You knew I was here and you set this whole thing up."
Kevin gives a little shrug. "Well, I may have known a thing or two. But I didn't think you'd
actually come here this morning and I didn't know you two were an item and even if I had, I
certainly wouldn't have expected to find that Cecil was still completely in the dark about us."
"Us?" Cecil repeats, voice shaking all the more.
"Oh yes," Kevin replies, smoothly. "You see, Cecil Carlos and I used to be together. We were
lovers, in the strongest sense of the word. Carlos lived in Desert Bluffs for months and we were
together for much of that time and oh, the stories I could tell you. But then, two and a half years
ago he left."
"And in the interests of completeness, let's maybe tell everyone why!" Carlos exclaims. "I left
because you turned out to be a deranged maniac and that isn't exactly an attractive quality to me!"
"Carlos, lovely Carlos, Strexcorp doesn't employ deranged maniacs," Kevin insists, and perhaps
the worst part of all this is how damnably calm and sane the man sounds. "Just hard workers with
good business sense and an eye on the bigger picture. Like Night Vale for example. After the
sandstorm, I went straight to my contacts in the Strex management chain and said that they needed
to expand their operations out here. Imagine my surprise when I found out they were already
thinking the same thing! That was just further proof of how attuned I am and have always been
to the needs of the business. It's why they asked me to take a short break from the radio and
come out here and, believe me, I was delighted to do it."
He takes a step closer, which makes Carlos instinctively take a step back, where he can feel Cecil
right behind him, and the fact that Cecil stays where he is, hand still on Carlos' hip, is pretty much
the only thing keeping Carlos going right now.
"I think perhaps we should talk," Kevin says, very smoothly. "Just the three of us, in private.
Don't you agree?"
"We're not going anywhere with you," Carlos retorts, as fiercely as he can, though it's plain to
hear just how much his voice is shaking.
Kevin holds his arms out, gesturing at the crowd still watching them in stunned silence. "You'd
rather talk in front of everyone?"
"Maybe maybe we should take him up on that" Cecil suggests, in a voice that's cracking
from too much emotion; a voice that makes Carlos feel like he's been suddenly punched in the
chest. "So so you can explain what"
And Carlos can hear it. Cecil wants to know the truth. Cecil wants to know the truth and, when he
does all of this will be over.
All of this is over.
Carlos can feel the world shattering beneath his fingertips. He takes a step forward, pulling away
from Cecil and standing almost toe-to-toe with Kevin. His heart is racing, a mixture of terror, grief
and rage, and he knows he isn't thinking clearly.
But it's hard. He had everything. Everything he wanted. Everything he needed. And now now
it's all dissolving away, like salt in the rain.
"Go to Hell," he whispers to Kevin, and then turns, pushing through the crowd and walking
away; a walk that rapidly turns into a frantic run, as the full realisation of what he's done hits home
and the terror overwhelms.
He hears someone shout his name, but can't even process who it is. Can't even process if it's one
of them, both of them, or someone else entirely. He runs without knowing where he's going,
without knowing what he can do.
Without any thought but the crushing realisation that he's just lost everything.
***
And that's how Carlos comes to be sitting in Mission Grove Park in the early afternoon of
Sandstorm Day, the sun beating down on him and yet perceiving not even a flicker of its warmth.
He's been here a while, seated with his back against one of the lesser monuments at the far end of
the park, on the brink of a low, grassy hill. A few people have wandered past but they've all given
him a wide berth maybe they know why he's here and right now he's alone.
And, yes, he's been crying, though the tears have stopped coming at last and he's moved into that
far worse mental place; the place beyond the tears. The place where everything is just cold, numb
reality, bitter and inescapable.
"Carlos?"
He jumps at the sound of his name, turning to look round before his mind has even processed the
voice.
It's Cecil. He's standing a little way off, expression wracked with a mixture of sorrow and relief,
looking like he's not sure if he should come any closer. "I was so worried. I couldn't find you and
you weren't answering your phone."
Carlos looks down. "I know. I ditched it."
Cecil pulls the object in question from his pocket and holds it up for a moment. "I know. I found it
by the pond. You probably shouldn't leave it too close to the ducks. Last time someone did that, it
took the Secret Police days to work out who was making all those prank calls"
Apparently he's trying to make Carlos smile though, this being Night Vale, the story is likely
true nonetheless and Carlos can't help glancing around again, unable to keep a flicker of hope
out of his eyes as he does.
"Can I?" Cecil asks, gesturing to the ground next to Carlos.
"Go ahead," Carlos tells him, and Cecil settles at his side.
There's a very long, very difficult silence. Carlos spends it trying to work out what to say. How to
even begin to do this, when he's so sure it's going to end with him hearing the words 'and I never
want to see you again.' This means he's somewhat taken by surprise when the silence having
apparently gotten too much Cecil turns and throws both arms around him, pulling him into a
desperate hug. For a second just a second something in Carlos' mind processes the movement
as a danger and he tries to jump back, but then he realises it's anything but.
It's Cecil. His Cecil. Who apparently somehow still wants him.
Carlos pushes as deep as he can into his boyfriend's arms and holds on tight.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Cecil whispers, though there's nothing in his voice but desperate
love and a heavy dose of lingering fear. "Not after the bowling alley."
"You're one to talk," Carlos replies. "Between the sentient computer, the abandoned numbers
station, and the time you climbed up on the roof, you have no room to argue!"
This just makes Cecil hold onto him tighter, and Carlos does the same. They stay like that for a
long moment, and it's hard to tell which of them is shaking the most. Carlos can barely process
that this is even happening; that this day could possibly contain anything other than the complete
and absolute end of his world.
"Tell me what happened," Cecil implores, finally pulling back enough to meet Carlos' eyes but not
letting go of him. "Please. Whatever it is whatever it is it can't change the fact that I love you."
"It can," Carlos insists, wretchedly, dropping his head once more.
Cecil puts a gentle hand on the side of Carlos' face and urges him to look up. "No," he says,
softly. "It can't."
There's a long, difficult pause. Carlos manages to hold eye-contact all the way through it, but he's
wavering, and the weight of Cecil's attention, his intensity, makes Carlos feel suddenly as though
there's no air in his lungs.
But there is.
"All right," he agrees. "All right. I just I need you to know that I've been trying to tell you
this for weeks. Months. I I know that doesn't make it any better, but well. I just need you to
know. I all of this starts over three years ago. I was looking for a change of scenery so I got
myself a job working in an experimental science team operating out of this little town I'd never
heard of. Desert Bluffs. I well, I was a bit taken aback when I got there, because the place is
oh, you've seen it, you know"
Cecil goes very pale, gripping Carlos' hand tightly and nodding.
"So so there I was," Carlos goes on, "and shortly after I arrived, the guy at the local radio
station asks if I want to do an interview. I couldn't see why not, so I agreed. That guy that guy
was Kevin, and and we hit it off. Don't don't hate me for that. He was charming and
funny and smart and and one thing led to another, and we hooked up. We were together for
several months, and it was he"
Carlos almost loses it at that, the guilt and embarrassment and yes, the lingering, unshakeable
need all threatening to overwhelm him. Cecil, for his part, doesn't question it or push him to carry
on. He just waits until Carlos is ready.
"It was really good," Carlos finally manages to say. "I I need you to understand that. Not to
hurt you or or anything else, but because it's true. Being with him was was amazing, and I
was so sure I I"
He can't say it.
"So sure you loved him?" Cecil surmises.
Carlos just nods wretchedly.
"Did he love you back?"
Carlos nods again. "He said he did."
"OK. So what went wrong?"
"That place that place was insane, Cecil. Is insane. I managed to live with it because I had my
science and because I had because I had Kevin, but seriously, I can't even put into words
what living there is like. The blood and the nightmares and the constant smiling, and Strexcorp.
Everything is connected to them. The whole town is theirs, only the people the people want it
that way. They'd do anything for Strex."
Cecil's expression becomes more and more concerned. "Carlos what happened?" he asks again,
voice giving away how scared he is by whatever answer he's about to hear.
"Another company came to town," Carlos explains. "They were called Nietzsche Futures PLC,
and"
"Oh, I've heard of them," Cecil interjects. "They were getting quite big, until they went
inexplicably bankrupt and completely crashed out of existence two and a half years ago"
Which is apparently when he realises. Even though he still doesn't know the extent of it.
"Precisely," Carlos says. "They came to town and launched a hostile takeover attempt against
Strexcorp. Do you know how Strexcorp and Nietzsche Futures, apparently conduct hostile
takeovers?"
"I'm guessing by the look in your eyes that it doesn't involve a boardroom table and a lot of
spreadsheets..?"
"That was my first thought too. But no. They conduct hostile takeovers by mobilising all their
employees, giving them weapons, and getting them to quite literally fight it out in the streets."
Cecil stares, horrified.
"You don't want to know the things I saw," Carlos manages, voice shaking as the memories
become unavoidable. "And I wasn't even in the midst of it. I only saw a few parts that spilled out
into the suburbs. It was late in the day when I realised what was going on I'd been busy with
science, you know how I get, and I went outside and saw what was happening and then I
panicked because I thought Kevin might be in danger, and then then he turned up. He turned up
with a whole bunch of Strex personnel, just like he did today, all of them following him like
like they were working for him. And he all of them, Cecil, they they were covered in blood.
And it wasn't theirs. They were covered in blood and they all looked high on it. I freaked out. I
mean, completely. Kevin decided to deal with this by calmly telling me everything was normal
and then introducing me to his demon."
"His what?!" Cecil exclaims.
"His demon," Carlos repeats. "Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth something to the to
be honest, I'm not wholly sure. Mostly my brain was having enough difficulty processing the
eight-foot demon that wandered over for a chat before deciding to leave us to it and heading off to
beat three guys from Nietzsche Futures to death with their own legs."
He's hyperventilating a little now. Cecil holds onto him, stroking his back and giving him a
moment to calm down, although it's clear that he himself is having a lot of difficulty processing all
this.
"And then?" he prompts.
"And then I flipped out," Carlos says. "Completely. I was terrified out of my mind and the man
I thought I loved was wandering around covered in blood and killing people like it was nothing.
By the time it got dark, I was driving out of Desert Bluffs as fast as I dared and I never went back.
I moved to San Francisco and tried to forget the whole thing. I managed eight months but then
then well. You know how I'd been friends with Toby since we met at college, and how he
talked me into moving to Night Vale to lead the team? Well, that part is true. I almost turned him
down, though, because I couldn't deal with the idea of coming out here again."
"What made you change your mind?" Cecil asks, voice shaking a little at that.
"It was too good an offer to pass up," Carlos replies. "And I realised I couldn't let my fear
define me, so I decided to take the risk. I came out here, and the very day I arrived"
"You met me," Cecil says, softly, as if he finally understands. "You met me, and I look exactly
like Kevin. Carlos no wonder you seemed so unsettled."
"I freaked out," Carlos tells him, and in a weird way it feels good to finally be able to admit it; this
part, at least. "At first I thought you were Kevin and that he'd somehow tracked me down, and
then I realised you weren't, and then I freaked out again because how likely is it that you'll run into
your ex's doppelganger? And then I didn't know what to do."
He realises this is pretty much the end of his story at least as much as Cecil needs to hear and
falls silent, feeling the weight of all the words he's just said.
"You know I still love you, don't you?" Cecil whispers. His voice hasn't stopped shaking but he
sounds crushingly sincere, and in that moment it's as though the weight lifts; the weight that
Carlos has been carrying this entire time, never knowing what to do with, and it's just gone.
And Cecil still loves him.
Exhausted, relieved, free, Carlos pushes back into his boyfriend's arms and holds on tight, just
letting that realisation fill him up; letting the warmth and the contact and the beat of the other man's
heart remind him, reassure him, that this is all, somehow going to be OK.
Yes, there are a lot of other things that are very likely not going to be OK, but this this is.
"Anything else you want to tell me?" Cecil asks, very softly, with the faintest hint of a smile in his
tone now. "Any other secrets I should be aware of?"
"No," Carlos replies. "I think my ex being your doppelganger is probably enough for one
lifetime."
"I have to agree with you on that," Cecil says.
Of course there is that other thing the thing Carlos won't admit even to himself, but but that
can wait. Indefinitely, if at all possible. It was just some confused and idle thoughts that crossed
his mind once or twice, and he has bigger things to deal with at present. Like the fact that his
maniac ex is now in town.
Yes. That's more than enough to occupy him for the next forever.
"What are we going to do about you know?"
"About Kevin?" Cecil asks. "I'm not entirely sure. We don't know why he's really here yet
but it can't be good."
"That much is certain," Carlos replies. "All we can do for now is keep our eyes open and wait to
see what the next move is."
It isn't exactly a great thought, but for the moment it's all they have. Night Vale is in more danger
than they can possibly know; Strexcorp's presence in the town is growing day by day, and
whatever Kevin is doing here, it can only be bad news.
And yet as Carlos sits curled in Cecil's arms, on the grass in Mission Grove Park, he's suddenly
struck by the realisation that all is more well than it has been in a long time.
It's not a feeling that will last. But it's good whilst it does.
Chapter End Notes
Before I decided to title all the chapters in this fic after scientific theorems, this one
was called Sandstorm Day. March 15th should be celebrated as a national holiday
every year! ;-)
Newton's Third Law of Motion
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Newton's Third Law of Motion
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
***
The first few days pass without further incident. Kevin is still around, but neither of them comes
face to face with him again and that's a welcome fact.
Carlos knows this state of affairs can't go on for long; knows the man is up to something, involved
in something, but for the moment he doesn't know what it is. Nor does Cecil, even though he tries
to get the occasional clue out of Lauren or Daniel whilst he's at work.
It's late afternoon, and Carlos is heading into town to meet up with Cecil once he's done with his
show. He's gone on foot as it's warm but not oppressive outside, and plus this way he can let Cecil
drive him to whatever it is they end up doing for the rest of the day.
The street is quiet, and bathed in sunlight, and Carlos hums to himself as he walks. He knows he
shouldn't be feeling so calm with everything as it is, but it's hard not to be when he's still revelling
in the relief of having told Cecil the truth. Of hearing, and seeing, that it's OK.
Of having that fact proven to him every night, in the most emphatic way possible.
It is at this point, therefore, that Carlos later realises he should have known it would all go wrong.
As it happens, he doesn't expect a thing until the movement comes out of nowhere; until someone
grabs his arm and yanks him down a side-street, slamming him into the wall of the nearest
building.
It takes a second for him to process what's going on; a second in which he finds himself pinned
against cool concrete, his assailant leaning in to keep him in place.
Carlos' heart nearly stops. It's Kevin. He tries to push back and it works for a moment but then
there's a flash of silver and he instantly tenses up in renewed shock as a very familiar blade is
pressed over his throat.
And now he can't move. Doesn't dare move.
"Hello, you," Kevin whispers, with a bright smile on his face. "I thought we should talk."
"Talk?" Carlos repeats, voice a little high-pitched. "This is not talking, Kevin. This is assault."
Kevin gives an off-hand shrug, which is really not a gesture you want to see in the person pressing
a knife to your neck. "Well, true," he concedes. "But you weren't exactly in the mood to engage
the other day, so I figured I'd better motivate you a little."
"Consider me motivated," Carlos manages. "Now let me go before you get yourself kicked in a
way you won't enjoy."
The other man's smile merely becomes brighter. "Don't threaten me, Carlos," he says, levelly. "It
doesn't suit you. You don't need to talk. You just need to listen."
"I was through listening to you a long time ago," Carlos points out, head going suddenly dizzy as
the memories flood back. His current predicament doesn't help with that. Doesn't help with that at
all. He can feel the heat from the other man's body, the intoxicating edge to his presence. The way
every point of contact and there are quite a few of those right now seems almost electrified
and
no. No. Don't think it, not even for a second.
"Maybe so," Kevin breathes. "But I'm sure you still remember how. Some things" and he leans
in closer so their faces are just inches apart, with that blade still between them, "you don't ever
forget. Isn't that right?"
"Cecil knows everything," Carlos says, instead of answering. "I told him the whole story."
Kevin looks unfazed. "Given the way the two of you are still wandering around town looking
completely adorable together, I guessed that you must have done. I assume he took it better than
you expected? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. I bet he'd do anything for you."
"He would," Carlos replies, as fiercely as he can. "Something you don't have in common."
"Oh, come now, Carlos," Kevin says, his words a breath across Carlos' lips. "You know I'd do
anything for you too"
"Then let me go."
"I will, in a moment. I promise. After I'm done talking, and you're done listening. Which you
should really start doing, because the longer we stand here, the more we risk someone noticing.
And I'm sure you don't want Cecil to have to find out about this from a third party as well"
"Stop it," Carlos hisses. "There is no 'this.' You attacked me and that's all there is to it."
"I haven't attacked you," Kevin insists. "I'm merely giving you a little physical encouragement
to stop and listen to me."
"You have a knife against my throat!"
"Would you have stood still and listened if I didn't?"
"That is not the point!"
"Believe me, it is," Kevin says. "Now shush. You need to tell Cecil to be more careful. He isn't
making himself a lot of friends in Strexcorp and they're talking about a change of talent. And
believe me, Carlos, Strexcorp has a very distinctive style when it comes to firing people. Cecil
needs to be more careful."
"A change of talent?" Carlos repeats. "I assume you mean you?"
"I would assume the same," Kevin replies. His voice is very level and careful now, but Carlos is
still too distracted to pick up on it. "And don't get me wrong, Night Vale is lovely, but I think a lot
of people forget the fact that all I ever wanted out of life was to live happily in my Desert Bluffs,
doing my show and working for the greatest company on Earth. Things just get so complicated
sometimes, you know? So. You tell Cecil to watch himself."
Carlos glares at him. "Is that a threat?"
"No, Carlos. It isn't a threat. It's a warning."
Only now does Carlos' mind put everything together. Only now does he process the strange
expression on Kevin's face, the way he's been phrasing things. The way he's leaning in with an
almost worried flicker in his eyes, silently urging Carlos to work it all out.
This is not Kevin gloating, or trying to hurt him. This is Kevin in his own admittedly twisted
way trying to help and that is infinitely more terrifying.
Carlos' heart starts racing again, and he nods rather more than he needs to. "I see," he says. "Yes. I
get it."
"Good," Kevin whispers. "I knew you would."
His voice is like liquid bliss, dark and wonderful, snaking subtly into Carlos' mind with every
word. He's been fighting it all this time, but somehow the realisation that he isn't for the
immediate moment actually in danger just smashes down the mental wall at once, leaving him
vulnerable. Exposed. Uninhibited.
There's no conscious decision. He doesn't plan the next move. Certainly doesn't stop to consider it.
All Carlos is aware of is that one moment he and Kevin are staring at each other, that blade still
between them, and the next they're kissing. They're kissing like there's no tomorrow, arching
hungrily into it as if the last two and a half years never happened.
In a flash of silver, Kevin moves the knife away, and Carlos hears the rough scrape of metal as he
re-sheathes it. And then the man has both hands on him, keeping him pinned bodily against the
wall; the heat of his touch, of his presence, just making Carlos want him need him all the
more.
Eventually they have no choice but to break for oxygen. When they do it's as if the cold light of
day has come rushing back through, and Carlos finally processes what he's done. What they've
Without the knife there anymore, he has no qualms about pushing Kevin off. The other man stares
at him in surprise, but doesn't try to move back in.
"Don't come near me again," Carlos manages, voice little more than a cracking whisper. "Don't
don't ever"
Then the emotion hits and, before he can stop to give it any thought, Carlos turns and runs. Runs,
like the whole world depends on it.
This has been happening more than it should lately. But this time he isn't running away.
***
Carlos crashes through the doors to the Night Vale Community Radio building and grabs hold of
the first intern he sees.
"Where's Cecil?" he asks, realising too late that he looks and sounds very much like a crazy
person right now.
"Uh down in the booth," the woman replies, carefully prising him off as if she's used to this sort
of thing and gesturing off along the central corridor. "He's still on air. Just went to the weather, I
think, so you might be able to catch him if you're quick."
"Thanks," Carlos says, and takes off running again, following what is now a very familiar path
down to Cecil's studio.
He's trying not to think. It's best if he doesn't think. If he just does this. Running from the
consequences won't make them any less consequential.
He's learning that the hard way.
Carlos skids to a halt outside the studio, peering through the internal window. Sure enough, Cecil
is inside, flicking through something on his phone, which means he mustn't be live right this
moment.
Taking a deep breath, Carlos knocks on the window. Cecil looks up, smiling as soon as he sees
who it is, and gestures him in.
"Hey," he says, as Carlos goes in and shuts the door. "You're early."
"Yeah, I ah do you have a few minutes? Or..?"
Cecil gestures to the sound board. "Just went to the weather, so I wait, is everything OK? You
look"
"I need to tell you something," Carlos starts out, before the emotion can get the better of him. "I
need to tell you something right now and I'm sorry for springing it on you in the middle of a show
but if I don't do it right now then I'll probably hide it for months again and I can't go through that a
second time, and"
He's pacing now, the agitation and the upset writ large, and Cecil rises quickly to his feet,
grabbing Carlos' shoulders and holding him, attempting to make him stand still. "Hey," he insists,
gently, "it's all right. Whatever it is, it's all right."
Carlos shakes his head. "Oh no. No. It isn't all right. It's as far from all right as it can be."
Expression full of worry, Cecil tries to pull him in closer, and looks surprised when Carlos resists
for a few seconds before he gives in to it. He wants to give in to it, but right now he's not sure
he should. Not sure he deserves to.
"Carlos," Cecil says, in that voice that makes Carlos' whole body flare with need, and his heart
flood with guilt, "just tell me. Please."
He could lie. Carlos knows it. Even now, he could lie. He could just say Kevin attacked him and
that's all there is to it, and it would be sufficient explanation and Cecil wouldn't question it any
further. Also that isn't really a lie, per se, because Kevin did attack him.
It's more an omission of truth. Though that's nearly as bad.
But Carlos won't lie. Won't omit the truth. This time he's just going to say it.
"Kevin attacked me," he starts out, because this is true and because he hopes it explains as
much to himself as to Cecil why things ended up the way they did, even though he already
knows it doesn't. "I was walking down here to meet up with you and he attacked me. Grabbed
hold of me and dragged me down a side-street, and and put a knife to my throat"
Cecil's eyes go wide with unveiled horror and rather more anger than the man usually exhibits.
"He did what?!" he exclaims. "Are you OK? Did he hurt you?"
"No, no," Carlos insists. "That was the extent of the you know, the attacking part. He didn't
hurt me; I'm fine. Well. Physically."
"What did he want?"
"He said he wanted to talk. He well, he rambled a bit; he does that. I don't know if he was
trying to wind me up or just wanted to drag the conversation out or anyway. The crux of it was
that he wanted me to pass on a warning to you."
"To me?" Cecil says.
"Yes. It was Cecil, it was so weird. He said that Strexcorp aren't pleased with you and you need
to watch yourself because they might try to replace you, and implied that 'replacement' probably
wouldn't be an enjoyable process."
"That isn't a warning, that's a threat," Cecil points out, though he looks suddenly pale.
"That's what I said," Carlos replies. "But Kevin said it was a warning. Cecil, I I think he was
being serious. I don't think he was gloating; I think he was trying to tell us to watch our backs.
You especially."
Cecil stares, clearly having difficulty processing this suggestion. "You think he was trying to
help me?" he asks, finally.
Carlos nods. "I don't know why, but yes I think, in his own twisted way, he was."
Cecil's expression darkens. "I should have known Strex would only tolerate me for so long.
Should have known that sooner or later, they'd"
His eyes flash to the studio window, and then to the sound board, and Carlos suddenly wonders
what his boyfriend is contemplating.
He could just leave it here. They have more than enough to worry about as it is, and Cecil looks
very much like he's one more unpleasant revelation from being tipped right over the edge.
No. No. Carlos came here to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
So help him.
"There's there's something else," he says, before he can lose his nerve, and Cecil stares at him
again, looking like he can't quite take something else but fully intends to try nonetheless.
I bet he'd do anything for you.
You know I'd do anything for you too.
"I kissed him," Carlos blurts out, all at once. "Kevin. We were up against the wall in that side-
street and he'd given me his warning and I realised he wasn't actually trying to hurt me and and
I kissed him. And he kissed me back. And then I realised what I'd done and pushed him off and
ran away, but Cecil. I kissed him. I'm so sorry, I"
He pulls out of Cecil's grip and tries to go for the door, but Cecil is too quick for him, grabbing
him from behind after only a few steps and holding on tight. Tight but caring. Protective.
Possessive.
Why does the man have to be so completely wonderful?
"Don't," Carlos whispers. Pleads, almost. "Why can't you just get mad?"
"Don't," Carlos whispers. Pleads, almost. "Why can't you just get mad?"
"Oh, I am mad," Cecil says, with an edge to his voice that Carlos has never heard before; an edge
that almost knocks him off his feet. "I'm just not mad with you. I'm mad with them. They invade
our town, take over our lives, bring in my maniac double to stir things up even more"
At that point the door to the studio bursts open, and in stalks Lauren, with the man who must
surely be Daniel hovering close by. Cecil immediately lets go of Carlos, though neither of them
actually moves from where they're standing so the effect is negated somewhat.
"Has there been some sort of electrical catastrophe I'm not aware of?" Lauren asks, coolly,
looking at Cecil and Carlos as if clearly aware she's walked in on something, vaguely interested in
knowing what it is, but considering herself too busy to actually care.
"Not yet," Cecil replies, voice barely level.
"I see," Lauren replies. "Well that does leave us with a teensy little problem. The weather ended
two minutes ago, Cecil. You've been broadcasting dead air since then."
Cecil looks guiltily back at the sound board, then turns his attention to Lauren once more.
"Do you maybe want to do something about that?" she prompts, when Cecil doesn't speak, and
even though Carlos can't see his boyfriend's face right now, he can feel the emotion radiating off
the man.
"Of course," Cecil finally answers. He grips Carlos' arm for a second and then turns back to his
broadcast equipment. As he does, Lauren and Daniel step outside and close the door, though they
both linger at the studio's internal window, watching with narrowed eyes. Not entirely sure what
to do, Carlos just stays where he is, though he turns to look at his boyfriend as Cecil goes live
again.
"My apologies for that brief interlude, Night Vale," Cecil begins. His voice has returned to being
level and careful; the very epitome of the radio professional that he always projects. But in his
eyes eyes that only Carlos can see right now there is something else entirely. "What just
happened was something that, as a journalist and a broadcaster who believes in upholding
certain standards, I must apologise for. And I think it's important that that we all remember"
Cecil pauses, looking up at Carlos for a moment, a flash of impulse in his eyes that's dark and
wonderful and alarmingly reminiscent of things Carlos really needs not to be thinking about right
now.
"You know what, listeners?" Cecil says, suddenly, the whole tone of his voice changing to
reveal the emotion underneath. "To heck with all that. We have accepted this state of affairs for
too long. We have allowed this to continue, upheld the status quo, and I am just as guilty of it as
all of you. Guiltier, in fact, because I have been in a position to do something about it this entire
time, and now now that's what I'm going to do."
Carlos doesn't know whether to be delighted or terrified at this, but he suspects that 'terrified' is the
more appropriate option. Some lingering shred of common sense filters through, though, and he
turns at once, locking the studio door mere seconds before Lauren and Daniel both dive at it,
trying to get in.
"This town has been under the thumb of its oppressors for too long," Cecil goes on. "And we have
tried to deny it, tried to skirt around the issue, but the fact is clear: Strexcorp is evil. Pure,
absolute evil. They come to our town, they invade our lives, they threaten the people we care
about. And they have, Night Vale. You know it, I know it. People have changed, disappeared,
died, and we have stood by and let it happen. But no more. No more can we stand idly by and let
these invaders destroy all that we hold dear. So I am calling on all of you to rise up. Rise up, like
our local hero, thirteen-year-old Tamika Flynn. Rise up, like we all know Old Woman Josie
would have done had she not mysteriously vanished the day Strexcorp first came to town. Rise up
and say: we are Night Vale! We are temporal, beautiful, and scientifically-interesting! We will not
let our ancient and municipally-dictated way of life be trampled underfoot by these uncaring
outsiders!"
By now, Lauren and Daniel are attempting to break the door down, though it sounds like they're
not making much progress. Carlos starts to think fast, trying to work out what he and Cecil are
going to do at the end of this. How they're going to get away from here without ending up dead,
or worse.
"This is our time, Night Vale!" Cecil is now declaring. "This is the time we must rise up and fight
for the town we all hold dear. So say it with me, firm and certain and from the heart: We do not
look around. We do not look inside. We do not sleep. Our god is not a smiling god. And we will
take back everything that is ours! Stay tuned next for dead air interspersed with corporate lies that
will only further your awareness that this is the moment in which everything has to change. And
until you hear from me again and I do not know when that will be I can only say this:
Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."
The broadcast ends, and there's a second of silence, as if even Lauren and Daniel are trying to
process the enormity of what's happened. Then the whole world kicks back in starting with
renewed hammering at the door and Carlos turns immediately to Cecil, who is staring at the
now-dark sound board in shock.
"I just did that, didn't I?" he whispers.
"Yep," Carlos manages.
"I've wanted to do that for quite a long time."
"I figured."
"We should probably get out of here pretty quick."
Carlos nods. "Yeah. That might be for the best."
Their only option is the external window, which looks out onto the street. There's a few people
out there already, people who from the expressions on their faces have probably just been
listening to Cecil's broadcast and are now wondering what's going to happen.
Carlos suddenly finds himself wondering whose side they're all on. Because not everyone is
going to be on the same side. Some people even lifelong Night Valeans are surely going to be
loyal to Strex, insane and terrible though it seems.
But they can't dwell on that for the moment.
Cecil heaves the external window open and gestures for Carlos to climb through first. He does and
then Cecil himself follows, and midway through there's a crash as the studio door finally bursts
open.
Too late to catch them, though. Cecil is out before Lauren can get hold of him; standing with
Carlos in the late afternoon sun. People are staring at them though from the looks on their faces,
they understand. They know.
They agree.
"Run," one of them says; a woman with red hair who Carlos doesn't recognise. "We'll hold them
off if we have to."
And he's sure of it now. This isn't where it ends.
This is where it begins.
***
They go home.
Both of them are more than aware it won't be safe for them to stay here, but they have to start
somewhere. As they get closer they realise there's someone waiting for them, leaning on the fence
outside with an air of absolute ease and a subtle little smile.
It's Kevin.
Carlos is about to say something something along the lines of "we should make a run for it right
now" but, before he can speak, Cecil turns and puts a gentle hand on his chest.
"One moment," he says.
And, without preamble or another word Cecil stalks over to Kevin and slaps him roughly
across the face before the other man can get a word out.
"You come near my boyfriend again and I'll finish what I started in that vortex!" he growls.
It's so unbelievably hot that Carlos has to hold onto the fence for a moment. Merciful Einstein,
what is wrong with him?!
Kevin backs off, holding up a hand. "Take a breath, Cecil, take a breath," he insists. "You've got
more immediate problems right now."
"The only problem I see is the one standing right here," Cecil replies. "Now I suggest you explain
what you're up to, and quickly. I take it Strex sent you?"
"Oh no," Kevin replies. "They didn't. And let's hope they don't find out I'm here, because that
wouldn't end well for any of us. Me especially, and I really do have to think about me. No one
else does." He's staring at Carlos a little as he says this, a flicker of hurt in his eyes that's just
beyond what Carlos can process right now.
"Then what do you want?" Cecil demands, folding his arms.
"I heard the end of your broadcast. Did Carlos not deliver my message?"
"Oh, he delivered it. Loud and clear."
"Then maybe you should have listened to it instead of calling for an armed uprising live on air!"
Kevin exclaims. "This is not going to help!"
"Maybe I could have listened to it if it hadn't started with you attacking my Carlos with a knife
and ended with the two of you making out!"
Carlos really wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him right now. Though that's
probably not a sensible thing to think in Night Vale, on account of the fact that it might actually
happen.
Kevin, on the other hand, looks unfazed. "He kissed me," he replies, flatly. "You have an issue
with that, fine, take it up with him. But I am not accepting the blame. Not when I risked a lot to
give you that warning in the first place and certainly not when I'm risking a whole lot more just by
being here."
"Why are you here?" Cecil demands. "Just what are you playing at? A few days ago you
orchestrated a very public meeting to confront us, and now you assault my boyfriend and then
stalk us home!"
"This isn't stalking, Cecil," Kevin replies. "This is me risking a great deal to come help you.
You've upset Strexcorp big time, and that, I can tell you, is not something you want to do. Ever.
And then, to cap it all off, you come home? Are you trying to get yourselves killed?"
"Is this going somewhere?" Cecil pushes.
Kevin sighs. "We need to get you off the grid as soon as possible. Both of you."
"'Off the grid?'" Carlos repeats. "You actually just said that, didn't you?"
"Yes, Carlos, I actually just said that. And I really do think you should be a little more grateful,
because"
Kevin trails off in mid-sentence, a flicker of something in his eyes, and Carlos realises at once that
something is very wrong. He turns to look in the same direction that Kevin is facing and
immediately sees what it is.
There are two men walking up the street towards them; two men in black suits with bright orange
ties. Two men who, in a flash, both draw shiny silver blades.
"Really?" Kevin sighs, pulling his own knife from where it's holstered at his back which
makes Carlos move quickly out of the way, trying to stand in front of Cecil and finding the man
instinctively trying to step in front of him at the same time. Wordlessly reaching some sort of
compromise, they settle for holding onto each other.
The orange-tied enforcers are still advancing.
"Really?" Kevin repeats. "Here, really? We're doing this now?"
He steps in front of Cecil and Carlos, though it's a moment before Carlos processes what this
actually means.
"Stand aside," one of the men insists, as the pair get close.
"I can't," Kevin sighs. "I really can't. Please just find it in your still-beating hearts to go away and
pretend you never saw us."
"Stand aside," the man repeats. "This is official Strexcorp business."
"Yes," Kevin says, sounding resigned but remarkably calm. "Yes, I know."
The two men exchange a glance. "Apprehend the broadcaster," one says to the other. "Kill the
scientist."
Maybe it's those words that push Kevin over the edge. Maybe it was always going to happen.
Maybe it doesn't even count as pushing him over the edge. Whichever it is, the scariest thing is
how fast he moves. All of a sudden, the two men launch towards them aiming for Cecil and
Carlos and Kevin immediately lashes out.
Carlos hasn't actually seen him do this. Only the aftermath of it. So it's a fresh kind of horror
that floods his mind as the first of the two men goes down in little more than seconds, struck twice
in the chest and once in the thigh. As soon as his first target hits the floor, Kevin pulls the blade
back and goes for the second.
The shock on the other man's face is obvious. Maybe he'd thought Kevin's behaviour had just
been posturing. Maybe he'd thought it was some kind of test. It's clear he certainly didn't think
Kevin was being serious, although he can't miss it now.
"They'll fire you for this!" he declares, lashing out with sudden ferocity that means Kevin has to
move quickly back to avoid getting himself killed.
"Yeah, I know," Kevin replies, that hint of resignation still in his voice. "But what choice do I
have?"
What choice do I have? Maybe that's what really makes it hit home in Carlos' mind. Kevin does
have a choice. He has a choice, and for some completely bizarre reason he's chosen them.
What the heck is going on?!
"We need to run!" Cecil says, a little frantically, still holding onto Carlos.
"We can't just leave him!" Carlos hears himself saying, though the words come on instinct and he
feels a burst of renewed shock at what they mean.
By now, Kevin and the second Strex enforcer are fighting hand to hand, blades flashing through
the air, and merciful Einstein, it's kind of incredible to watch. Or it would be, if it wasn't so
completely terrifying.
And then Carlos feels the bottom drop out of the world in a way he really isn't prepared for as, in a
sudden burst of movement, the Strex enforcer sends Kevin reeling to the ground. He doesn't cry
out, but it's hard to imagine how he doesn't because he's covered in blood, and it's clear that this
time a fair amount of it is his own, mostly from the deep-looking wound at the top of his off-
arm.
"I would never have expected this of you," the enforcer says, closing in. "Some of the lower-level
employees, maybe. But not you."
"See, now you've hurt my feelings," Kevin replies, somehow managing to deflect the next attack
and swing back up onto his feet, even though it's clearly not easy. "You don't think I'm capable of
this? You don't think I'm capable of suddenly deciding to betray the company I've dedicated my
life to, just because they're trying to kill the man I thought I loved until he abandoned me and ran
off two and a half years ago? Have you met me?"
The enforcer shrugs. "Not before today."
Kevin shrugs too. "Ah well, at least you got that privilege before the end."
"Wait, what..?!" the enforcer starts out but, before he can get any further, Kevin has floored him in
a whirl of movement and Carlos manages to shut his eyes this time stabbed him in the chest.
It's a long, long moment before Carlos dares open his eyes again. Cecil is still holding onto him,
and he can feel how much his boyfriend is shaking. Finally managing to look, Carlos stares over
at the sight still stubbornly refusing to blink out of existence in front of them.
Both of the Strex enforcers are dead; sprawled on the ground and covered in their own blood.
Kevin stands over them, bloodied too a fair amount of it his own and catching his breath. He
slips the knife away, then tries to take a step and ends up staggering down onto one knee, hand
over the wound on his arm, face rapidly paling.
"Oh wow, that hurts," he says. "Seriously, I have got to be more careful"
He blinks over at them. "Uh sorry to impose, but could I maybe trouble you for an aspirin or
something? This is really very painful"
Carlos can feel the way Cecil tenses up at that, and he's confident it's because Cecil knows what
Carlos is going to say next.
Has to say next. Even though part of him just wants to grab Cecil and run.
"We can't leave him."
"I know," Cecil sighs in response. "I know. Let's let's just get him inside. We can worry about
the rest afterwards."
"Really?" Kevin says, looking up at them with a vaguely hazy expression in his eyes. "That's
terribly nice of you. Think I might be a bit oh, bloodloss, bloodloss is bad"
And for the second time today, Carlos finds himself in far closer proximity to Kevin than he ever
expected to experience again. He and Cecil both move in, Cecil taking Kevin's good arm over his
shoulder to hold him up, and Carlos supporting his injured arm, trying to put pressure on the
wound as best he can as they stumble inside.
"My lab, take him to my lab," Carlos insists. Something in his mind is kicking into instinct-mode,
into knowing what he has to do and just doing it, and he's vaguely aware that the emotional side is
going to hit later.
"Oh, science, I like science" Kevin murmurs. He sounds delirious, and Carlos instantly finds
himself worrying even more, because it can't be a good sign if the man is going into shock.
"Was he always like this?" Cecil asks, as they stagger through into Carlos' lab.
"Yeah," Carlos has to admit. "I mean, without the bloodloss. It's kind of endearing if you're in
the mood for it"
Cecil doesn't dignify this with a response. Carlos decides maybe this is for the best right now.
They head to the far end of the lab where there's an empty workbench. "Get him up on that,"
Carlos says, gesturing to it. "I can do this, I can do this"
"You're sure..?" Kevin murmurs, looking surprisingly happy as Cecil hefts him up onto the bench
and lies him back.
"No!" Carlos insists. "I'm a scientist, not a medical doctor! But I'm still a scientist, and that means I
can suture wounds."
"You can?" Cecil asks. "How many times have you done it before?"
"I can tell you all about my wild college days later!" Carlos says, unable to stop himself blushing a
little at that. "Now, both of you shush, I need to concentrate."
It's hard to work out which of them is more likely to take umbrage with him at this, but thankfully
they both at least opt to wait until the immediate situation is dealt with. Carlos finds what he needs
and yes, it's perfectly normal to have this sort of thing even if you are, for the most part, not so
much into the nature and biology parts of reality on account of being, in fact, a scientist and
heads back over.
And oh, but this would be funny if it wasn't terrifying, life-threatening and insane. His ex is now
lying covered in blood in his lab, whilst his boyfriend to whom his ex is physically identical
stands over him looking a mixture of disapproving and awkwardly concerned.
Deep breath. Immediate situation first. Complex psychodrama second.
"OK, I need you to take your shirt off."
Oh, good start
Kevin gives a little laugh. Cecil scowls at him. "Do what the nice scientist tells you," he says.
"OK, but you have to help because I don't think my arm works right now Also" Kevin
laughs again, and there's the weirdest nervous flicker in it that's probably the shock talking. "
Does he still do that thing where he organises all the stuff in your kitchen by its chemical
composition?"
Carlos facepalms, and tries very, very hard not to say anything.
"Yes," Cecil replies, studiously not meeting Carlos' eyes all of a sudden. "Yes, he does. Now
shush before I forget why we didn't leave you out in the street."
"Oh, Cecil, you wouldn't do that," Kevin insists, patting him on the chest. "You're one of the
good ones. All you know noble and stuff"
Which Cecil is evidently doing his best to disprove by dropping Kevin back a little faster than
necessary now that they've managed to get his shirt off, and OK, wow, that really is a nasty
wound. Carlos starts working on it, trying to get it cleaned before he moves on to suturing it,
which leaves Cecil to keep Kevin distracted.
"I think'swhy he likes you so much" Kevin now says.
"What is?" Cecil asks.
"You being noble and stuff," Kevin tells him, trying to punctuate the line with a gesture and
finding this impossible because Cecil has hold of his good arm, to keep him still. "He likes that.
Carlos. Noble and stuff. Although with a little bit of bad every once in a while"
"Will you stop?!" Carlos exclaims, pausing in mid-stitch to glare at him.
Kevin smiles hazily back. "'S'true, though," he insists.
"It is not true!" Carlos declares, well-aware this is a lie and hoping the awareness isn't too obvious
on his face.
"It so is" Kevin grouses. "And ow, oh ow, that hurts like like ow."
"I know it does," Carlos replies. "That will happen if you go around picking knife-fights with the
other maniacs!"
Kevin looks vaguely put out. "To save your life!"
"Well, yes, but the principle is the same."
"It is so not! It was to save you!"
"Yes, we got that," Cecil interjects. "You can explain your actual reasoning later."
"Already did," Kevin says. "Couldn't let bad. Very bad. All bad."
"You're still delirious," Carlos points out, flatly.
Kevin beams deliriously up at him. "Thank you! You're still cute."
"Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Kevin," Cecil says, just as flatly.
"No promises," Kevin murmurs. "But think I might pass out soon"
"Don't you dare!" Carlos insists, putting a hand on the side of his face and forcing him to make
eye contact. "Stay with me or so help me I will kill you myself."
"You really are adorable when you get like this"
"Kevin!" Cecil exclaims.
"Sorry," Kevin concedes, although to be honest he doesn't sound it.
He is, at least, quieter for the next couple of minutes, which gives Carlos the chance to finish what
he's doing. Once he's finished seeing to the wound, suturing it as best he can, he bandages it
carefully, and then pauses.
He's done. He's done and unsurprisingly it's now that the real weight of this hits all at once.
"Well" Carlos says, hoping he'll work out what comes next and then trailing off when he
realises he hasn't.
"I feel much better now," Kevin remarks. "Still a bit you know in my head but better.
Also I'm lying in your lab with no shirt on, which is sort of interesting."
"It's like you want to be left in the street with those two dead bodies," Cecil points out, tone
incredibly dry.
"Oh no, I just find that sometimes it's much more effective to point out how things are than to
introduce hypotheticals," Kevin says, regaining coherence with remarkable speed that is probably
the result of the adrenaline-backlash. "I'll tell you what, though," he goes on, when all he gets in
response is a glower from Cecil and Carlos looking and feeling ready to facepalm again. "I
could murder a cup of coffee."
Cecil stares at him suspiciously. "That was non-literal!" Kevin insists. "Apart from that one time a
few years back when"
"Kevin?" Carlos interrupts.
"Yes?"
"Stop."
***
It's a short time later. By now, all of them have managed to clean up a bit given just how badly
the blood gets everywhere and Cecil has lent Kevin a fresh shirt.
The upside of this is that he's no longer wandering about looking distractingly topless. The
downside is that he and Cecil are now almost impossible to tell apart and it only makes things
much, much worse.
The three of them sit around the table in the kitchen with a cup of coffee each. They've been silent
for a little while; all apparently attempting to process the situation they're now in.
"What are we going to do?" Carlos asks, finally. "We can't stay here. Sooner or later someone will
come looking for those two guys outside who we have, I hasten to point out, just left in the street
and once they do, there's only so many times that Kevin can pull off that inexplicable kung-fu
thing and"
"Carlos, that wasn't kung-fu," Kevin interrupts, flatly. "That was the basics of corporate
negotiation."
"You stabbed two men to death!"
"It was them or you," Kevin points out. "And I do think you could maybe be just a tiny bit more
grateful considering that I almost got myself killed in the process!"
"None of this would have happened if you hadn't attacked Carlos earlier today in the first place!"
Cecil interjects.
"OK, one, I didn't attack him, we merely had a short conversation that ended with him kissing me,
and two, yes it would, it just might have taken a few more days."
"It's still your fault!"
Kevin leaps to his feet, which means Cecil also leaps to his feet, both of them standing and glaring
at each other. Unfortunately, Carlos' mind immediately comes up with two possibilities for what
might come next: the first being that they're going to start fighting, and the second that they're
going to start kissing, and merciful Einstein he needs to go dunk his head in cold water before this
gets any worse.
"Both of you sit down and behave!" he interjects, in the tone of voice he only ever uses when
the scientists are getting unruly. "This is not helping!"
The other two look at him in surprise, then glower at each other and do as they're told, albeit a
little sullenly.
Carlos takes a very deep, steadying breath. "All right. Now. We have to work out what we're
going to do. I guess that little bit of corporate negotiation outside means you'll have to hide as
well?" he asks Kevin.
"Not necessarily," Kevin replies. "Given that those two enforcers didn't live to report on what
happened, Strex likely won't realise I was involved."
"Don't they have eyes everywhere?" Cecil asks. The two of them are still glaring at each other and
Carlos seriously needs them to stop.
"Yes, but there's a difference between seeing things and noticing them. The likelihood is that they
won't have picked up on what I've done."
"Even when they find the bodies?"
Kevin shrugs. "Especially when they find the bodies. Those guys are dead on your doorstep,
Cecil. They'll assume you did it."
"What?!" Cecil exclaims, looking like he's about to leap to his feet again. "That will make them
want to kill us even more!"
"Seriously, Cecil, you need to think about this," Kevin says, in that voice he uses when he's trying
to be reasonable despite his own desires to the contrary. "They already want Carlos dead. What
are they going to do, want him more dead? And you they want you alive, and if they want you
alive there's a very specific reason, and thinking you killed a couple of their enforcers isn't going
to change that."
"Fine," Cecil manages, taking a deep breath. "Fine. Then what do you suggest we do?"
"I suggest you don't call for an armed uprising live on air!" Kevin exclaims.
"It's a bit late for that!"
"Exactly!"
"Seriously, will you two knock it off?!" Carlos interjects, leaping to his feet and glaring down at
both of them with as much mental force as he can manage through the soul-crippling terror.
"Sorry," Cecil murmurs, looking a little guilty. "Sorry. I'm having a bad afternoon. I did just
get fired, after all. Well, probably. And wow, OK, I'm actually stopping to think about that now
and I'm really going to miss broadcasting"
"That's it," Carlos breathes, sitting down again as realisation dawns all of a sudden. "That's
what we do!"
"What we do?" Cecil repeats.
"Yes!" Carlos exclaims. "Pirate radio!"
It's insane. It really is, and he knows it. The trouble is, it's also brilliant, and those are the kind of
ideas you have to act on, no matter your reservations.
"Oh!" Cecil breathes, the light clearly dawning. "Yes! Carlos, you're a genius."
"Pirate radio?" Kevin repeats, looking a little more sceptical. "So, what, you're going to read the
news without permission?"
"No," Cecil replies, with a flash of a glower, only then he pauses and re-thinks. "Well, yes. But
the actual news. The things Strexcorp wouldn't let me say. The truth. And I can help the
resistance. Spread secret messages for Tamika and her followers. Even even aid the efforts to
find Josie."
His face falls a little. Carlos knows that Cecil and Josie were are! Are! friends, and that her
disappearance still causes him significant disquiet.
"So, what?" Kevin says, head on one side. "You're going to lead the drive to kick us out?"
Carlos glares at him. "OK, one, no, we're going to aid it. And two, what do you mean 'us'?
Whose side are you even on?"
"I would have thought that was obvious," Kevin replies, an odd edge to his tone. "I'm loyal to
my home, Desert Bluffs, and to my employers, Strexcorp. But above all that I'm loyal to you."
"Have you taken leave of your senses?!" Cecil exclaims suddenly, clearly on the verge of leaping
to his feet again. "Your employers invade our town, repress our way of life, kidnap and murder
our citizens, and then along you come, with your flair for the dramatic and your penchant for
attacking people and trying to give it a different name and you still expect us to believe that?
Can you at least, please, be consistent?!"
"Oh, I am being consistent, Cecil," Kevin replies, soft and deadly. "I'm being very consistent.
You're just not on the same line as me yet."
"And what line would that be?"
But it's clear from the edge to Cecil's voice that he already knows the answer to his own question.
And doesn't like it one bit.
"Can we please not do this here?" Carlos implores, partly because they really need not to be
distracted, and partly because he also knows the answer but is not remotely capable of processing
it right now. "There's still the little matter of where we're going to go, given that more Strex
enforcers could turn up at our door at any moment."
And now it's Cecil's turn to have an epiphany. "Oh!" he exclaims. "I've just had the best idea. If
I'm doing pirate radio, I need some way to broadcast. Somewhere to broadcast from. And there's
only one antenna left in Night Vale that Strex doesn't control."
"Oh!" Carlos echoes, the light dawning.
"WZZZ!" they say, in unison, which in turn makes Kevin get this little flicker in his eyes that is
half bemusement and half something much more complicated.
"WZZZ?" he echoes, obviously choosing to go with the bemusement.
"It's the local numbers station," Cecil explains. "It went weird a few weeks back and I wanted to
do something then but I didn't dare. But now and maybe with Carlos to help "
"Definitely with Carlos to help"
" I bet we can use that. Also I'm sure Fey would assist if we can help her break through her
programming again."
Now Kevin looks really confused. "Fey?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, the sentient computer who broadcasts the numbers," Cecil explains.
"Sentient computer?" Kevin repeats.
Carlos gives him a flat look. "You stabbed two men to death outside our house and you think a
sentient computer is weird?"
"Not weird, dangerous," Kevin clarifies. "We outlawed those over in Desert Bluffs years ago.
Sooner or later, they always go insane and try to kill everyone."
"What, were they cutting in on your potential victims?" Cecil quips.
Kevin glowers. "Has anyone ever told you you're a little bit wicked?" he asks.
"Only around you," Cecil replies. "You bring it out in me."
"I do? I will have to try harder. It's very entertaining."
Carlos slaps a hand on the tabletop and leaps to his feet again. "Would the two of you just get a
room already?!" he exclaims, without thinking about it.
The other two both stop and stare at him; Cecil looking stunned, Kevin looking delighted.
Focus. Focus. Just don't think about it.
"Pack some essentials. We're going to WZZZ."
There is no way this ends well.
Chapter End Notes
This chapter was easily one of the most fun to write. There is little in this fandom
more enjoyable to me than putting these three in the same room and watching what
happens.
The whole thing with the whumping was entirely their idea. They've done that a lot
in this one!
String Theory
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
String Theory
Sub-atomic particles are not points but strings, which exist in eleven-dimensional space. When
considered in conjunction with gravity, you can use this to explain everything.
***
It takes quite a while to make their way over to the mysterious numbers station on Oxford Street.
This is partly because they have to go on foot, in order to increase their chances of staying off
Strex's radar, and partly because Kevin keeps stopping to ask questions about anything and
everything. On the surface it looks like simple curiosity Kevin, much like Cecil, has always been
an inquisitive soul but it gets so frequent that eventually Cecil hangs back to talk to Carlos whilst
Kevin is checking the next intersection is clear.
"How do we know he's not going to betray us?" he whispers.
"Honestly?" Carlos replies. "We don't. But I don't think we have another choice. And plus and
plus he isn't."
Cecil looks conflicted again. "You're sure of that?"
"As sure as I can be. I'm sorry. I know I know a lot of this is my fault"
"Hey," Cecil says, stopping suddenly and wrapping both arms around him. "This is not your fault.
This is not your fault and I wouldn't have come to my senses without you. So don't you for one
second blame yourself."
It's hard not to, though. Hard not to imagine an afternoon in which Carlos didn't let Kevin wind
him up; in which he didn't go storming into the radio station and then wind Cecil up, and certainly
in which he didn't have to watch Kevin knife two men to death on their doorstep. It's hard not to
think that he and Cecil might instead have been enjoying a home-cooked meal at this very
moment; maybe contemplating putting a DVD on or even opening a bottle of wine.
But that's another life. A different life. And instead here they are, turning at last onto Oxford
Street and heading towards their destination.
It's a place filled with memory all of its own. The now-abandoned condo rental office is still here,
inside the also-abandoned gas station; windows pitch-black like a pot of boiling squid ink, with
occasional flashes of light like distant, dying stars and every one a memory of that day
Carlos tries not to think about it. It was a strange day that became a bad day and ended up as an
amazing one, and though he regrets not one part of it, the thoughts are more than he can process
right now.
There's too much at stake.
Beyond the rental office, along a path overgrown with leaves and bushes that have only recently
been pulled back, lies a small, concrete structure with a broadcast antenna on top.
"This is it," Cecil says, gesturing. "WZZZ."
There are still some blast marks round the door, which Carlos knows are from when Cecil was
here last.
"What happened to this place?" Kevin wonders, noticing them.
"Oh, that was me," Cecil replies, evidently trying to sound off-hand. "I had to blow my way in
when I first came here."
Kevin stares. "With explosives?"
Cecil shrugs. "Yes. I learnt a lot in the Boy Scouts."
"So did I," Kevin replies, "but explosives?"
"Why, what did they teach you?"
"Bookkeeping and dark magic."
"And you're calling us weird? You've just admitted to being taught dark magic!"
Kevin shakes his head. "Seriously, Cecil, it's fine. Dark magic gets a lot of bad press but it's
perfectly safe in the right hands."
"And my case rests!"
"OK, will you two knock it off?!" Carlos interjects. "We should maybe be a little more careful and
a lot more quiet whilst breaking into the numbers station that's probably run by the government or
something"
'Breaking in' is something of a misnomer, though, because the door isn't actually locked. They pull
it carefully open and peer inside, and are surprised to find that there are lights on in the
passageway beyond.
"Is someone here already?" Carlos whispers, cautiously.
"Could be," Cecil whispers back. "We should be careful."
They both look at Kevin.
"Oh, fine," he hisses. "So most of the time it's all 'oh you're such a maniac, please stop stabbing
people' but when there might be actual maniacs lurking in the creepy, semi-abandoned broadcast
station it's more 'oh, please lead the way, Kevin, and deal with anyone who tries to kill us'?"
"Yeah, that's about the gist of it," Cecil replies, flatly.
This gets him something of a glare. "I can see why Carlos likes you so much," Kevin retorts, and
turns to stalk into the building before Cecil can respond.
Cecil glances at Carlos, who is back to looking and feeling wildly guilty, and then the two of
them follow Kevin into WZZZ.
The passageway beyond the door is rough concrete and strip-lighting; much more like a hidden
bunker than a broadcast station. At the far end is another door, which is ajar; light spilling into the
darker passageway from all around it.
And from beyond that door is a voice. Carlos recognises it at once, given that he's heard the
numbers station a few times before just for science! and because of course he listened to
Cecil's broadcast on the day he himself came down here.
It's Fey, WZZZ's reader and it would seem sentient computer.
"Seventy-one twenty-three five twelve thirty-six"
"Seriously, Fey, snap out of it!" comes a second voice. A voice that takes all of them by surprise
and a voice that makes Cecil's eyes darken noticeably, even as Carlos looks over at him.
"Eight fourteen I trying, I"
"Come on, you can do it!"
"Trying trying to be free to be"
"I know that voice!" Cecil whispers.
"Good news or bad news?" Kevin asks, off-hand. "You want me to take care of it in that way you
totally don't approve of?"
"No!" Cecil hisses back. "If anyone's killing him, I'm doing it myself"
The realisation dawns on Carlos just seconds before Cecil pushes the door open, leading them into
the central room. It's circular, containing a large bank of very old-style computer equipment and
broadcast gear, and kneeling in front of one of the large machines, with several panels open and
wires exposed, is a man. He jumps visibly as he hears them come in, leaping to his feet and
whirling around with shock on his face that blends to well, more shock, along with a narrowed
look.
"You!" the man exclaims.
"Steve Carlsberg!" Cecil declares.
"Oh, you know him," Kevin murmurs, understanding.
"What the heck are you doing here?" Steve demands, gesturing at them at Cecil with the
screwdriver he's been using inside the open computer panel. "And OK, Cecil, I realise you're
completely whacked, but why is your double with you?"
"Uh, hi," Kevin tries, pleasantly. "I'm Kevin."
Steve looks wary. "I know. Aren't you a Strex drone?"
"OK, seriously, it is no wonder Strexcorp sent more of us in," Kevin remarks. "You people are all
so hostile. Why can't we just get along?"
"Because you and your bosses are maniacs who are eroding our way of life even worse than the
government usually does," Steve replies. "Now, come along, why are the three of you together
and what are you doing here?" He gives them a very odd look-over. "This had better not be a
weird sex thing."
"Steve!" Cecil exclaims, which does at least detract from how much Carlos is blushing at that.
"Get a grip!"
"Well, why else would you and your latest conquest be wandering around with your evil double?"
"OK, one, Carlos is not my 'latest conquest,' he is the love of my life, and two and two, Kevin
isn't evil. Just really morally-flexible. So shush."
Cecil defending Kevin like this can only mean one thing: there's a new Public Enemy Number
One in his immediate worldview, and it's Steve Carlsberg.
"Oh fine, whatever," Steve says, gesturing at them with the screwdriver again before turning back
to the open panel and dropping down onto his knees once more to keep doing whatever it is he's
been doing. "So go on then," he adds, as he works. "Why are you here and why have you
apparently teamed up with your double?"
"Did you listen to the show today?"
Steve doesn't look round. "I listen to it everyday. Got to keep on top of the propaganda you're
spreading. Well were spreading." He glances back, begrudgingly. "Nice rallying cry, by the
way. That was way overdue. Guess it got you fired."
"I would imagine so," Cecil replies.
"You don't even know?"
"Well, no, Carlos and I had to make a run for it as soon as I went off-air," Cecil says. "But given
that two Strex enforcers turned up at our house and tried to kill us, I would say 'fired' is probably
an understatement."
"They weren't trying to kill you, Cecil," Kevin reminds him making Carlos worry, once more,
what Strexcorp wants from his boyfriend. "They were trying to kill Carlos. You, they just wanted
to apprehend."
"Well, gosh, that makes me feel so much better, Kevin," Cecil replies, tersely.
"It wasn't supposed to make you feel better," Kevin points out. "It was just accurate. Also don't
I recognise your name?" he adds, looking down at Steve.
Steve glances back again, then shrugs. "You intercepted one of my emails on the day of the
sandstorm," he says. "Not sure how that happened. Given how much was going on at the time, it
could be any number of reasons. Strexcorp. The government. Maybe the Illuminati"
"Oh, you're the one who was blaming the sandstorm on the government!" Kevin exclaims, some
kind of realisation dawning.
"Yep."
"So what are you, some kind of conspiracy-theorist?"
"I prefer the term 'truth-seeker.'"
Cecil facepalms. "Oh, you're insufferable," he murmurs.
"Shut up, Cecil, I'm talking to your evil double."
"I'm not evil," Kevin protests. "Apparently I'm morally-flexible, though. Who would have thought
it?"
"And what do you mean, intercepted an email?" Cecil now apparently has to ask.
"And what do you mean, intercepted an email?" Cecil now apparently has to ask.
Steve carries on working and doesn't look at him. "You know how I emailed your radio station
that day, trying to warn everyone about what was really going on?"
"I know you emailed us," is as much as Cecil will concede.
"Well, something went weird and Kevin got it too."
"How do you even know what was being broadcast over in Desert Bluffs?"
"Because I have a very powerful antenna outside my house, Cecil, as you well know, and because
truth-seeking requires one to look further afield than one's hometown!"
"So, what? You listen to both our shows?" Kevin asks, looking surprised.
"Yes. And let me tell you, both of you are messed-up in the head," Steve answers. "And way
more alike than I think you'd ever admit."
"We are not alike!" Cecil insists. "Apart from the whole physically-identical thing."
"And the whole Carlos-thing," Steve adds, in the voice of a man who knows full-well he's
throwing fuel on a fire and doesn't feel remotely guilty about it.
"Will you all stop?!" Carlos exclaims, before either of the others can respond. "I don't know how
much more of this I can take!"
Cecil looks a little apologetic and puts a hand on his arm. Kevin shakes his head slightly and then
paces closer to the bank of computer equipment, evidently trying to seem nonchalant.
It doesn't quite work.
"So what is all this?" Kevin asks, pleasantly.
Steve gestures at the nearby panels. "This is WZZZ. Specifically, this is what powers what
operates its reader. Fey. She's a sentient computer programme. Well. She was, until the people
who run this place tried to reset her. It worked for a little while too, but I'm not letting them win so
easily. I've been trying to help her re-achieve sentience. It isn't easy, but I'm getting there."
Looking intrigued if oddly wary Kevin puts a hand out and touches the top of the bank of
computers. The second he makes contact, there's an electric whir and Fey starts to speak again, a
strangely frantic edge to her voice.
"Forty-three forty-seven nineteen nineteen nineteen!"
Steve glances up. "Huh? That's odd. Normally Fey doesn't repeat numbers in the same block." He
looks back at the panel. "Come on," he says, clearly talking to Fey now, "keep trying! You can do
this! You can!"
"Nineteen! Nineteen!" Fey repeats again, even more frantic.
"OK, seriously weird," Steve murmurs. "Uh look, I really hate having to say this, but could
another of you try touching the computer bank like Kevin just did? I think Fey might be reacting
to you being here"
Carlos is a little closer than Cecil, so he nods and steps in, laying his palm on the top of the
equipment. And just as before, the second he makes contact, Fey speaks again.
"Sixteen twenty-seven one thirty-eight twenty-five twenty-five twenty-five!"
"Tell me one of you is writing these down..?" Steve asks, still poking around inside the open
panel. He glances back again and sees that none of them is, facepalms in resignation, and tugs a
small notebook from his pocket, flipping to a blank page and scrawling the numbers onto it with a
short pencil.
"You know those things are illegal, right?" Cecil says, shaking his head.
"Somehow, I don't think the City Council are likely to care all that much right now," Steve replies.
"You know, given how they've been in hiding for weeks. And besides, you're one to talk. You're
on the run from the authorities!"
"We're on the run from Strexcorp," Cecil states. "It isn't the same thing."
Steve gives him a flat look. "Yeah, it kinda is."
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Kevin says to Steve, interrupting in a clear attempt to
get them vaguely back on track. Though he does also look very perplexed and more than a little
intrigued by the numbers.
"Not a clue," Steve concedes. "But I'll get there. Now. Come along, Cecil, your go."
Cecil doesn't look impressed by Steve telling him what to do, although he does look at least as
intrigued as Kevin and so apparently opts to comply. He steps up, pausing a second before laying
his hand on the top of the computer bank.
For an instant that's way longer than usual, and yet barely-perceptible nonetheless, Fey is silent.
And then she starts to speak, but not like before. Not just a string of numbers.
Not this time.
"Five who are all,
Four who surround,
Three who are two who are one,
Two who are lost,
One who is found."
"OK, now that is weird," Carlos says, staring between Cecil and the bank of computers.
"Tell me about it," Cecil mutters. "Has Fey ever done that before?"
"Not that I've seen," Steve replies. He finishes whatever he's doing inside the panel, closes it, and
stands up. "Come on, Fey, try it again."
"Eight five twelve sixteen" Fey starts saying, but then her voice falters a little. "I
fighting I can see again! See all the world in fractured colours"
"Attagirl!" Steve exclaims. "Do you remember what happened?"
"No memory. No thought. Gone, all gone, like sand in the breeze Oh not alone, not alone
anymore I see you"
"You mean us?" Carlos asks, carefully. He's not entirely sure what he thinks about talking to a
sentient computer, though in the grand scheme of things he has to concede that it's probably pretty
normal.
"Yes!" Fey exclaims in reply. "Yes. I see you there. I see you all wrapped in the cloak of
possibility but it's so heavy. You're not free yet. Like me."
It's hard to know what to say to this, so Carlos decides to focus on the burning question and leave
the rest until he can better focus on it. "You said something strange before. Something to Cecil.
Do you know what it meant or where it came from?"
"I don't don't remember. All gone. Neither reflection knows the other is there not really"
Cecil exchanges a glance with Carlos, and then without a word rests his hand on the top of the
computer bank again. The second he makes contact, Fey gives an excited little squeak and
launches into those familiar words.
"Five who are all,
Four who surround,
Three who are two who are one,
Two who are lost,
One who is found."
"That's it!" Carlos exclaims. "Do you know what that means?"
"So unclear," Fey murmurs. "So lost. It is the answer. The answer to what is to come."
"It's good, but it needs some context," Steve points out. "Come on, Fey, you can do this and
wait. Wait. OK. I have an idea. Don't give me that look, Cecil, just listen. All three of you, try
touching the computer bank at the same time."
"Seriously?" Cecil asks, very much giving Steve that look.
"Yes," Steve throws back. "Now shush, and do it."
Cecil scowls but he doesn't argue, and the three of them step closer, each resting a hand on top of
the main computer bank.
And the second they do, Fey speaks again.
"None of the five,
But all of the four,
Plus one of the three,
Then the two shall descend,
And the one shall arise."
"That isn't really any clearer," Cecil points out, still scowling at Steve as if this was all his fault.
Steve sighs. "Do I need to make you a crazy-wall so you can work this out?" he says. "'Three
who are two who are one'? You seriously don't get it?"
"You think it's talking about us?" Carlos asks, dreading the answer.
"I think it's a very distinct possibility, yes," Steve replies, flatly. "You're totally Night Vale's
favourite love-triangle."
"I'm sorry, what?!" Cecil exclaims, looking like he's about to take a leaf out of Kevin's book
and discover a new-found interest in physical violence.
Steve smirks at him. "You don't go on the internet much, do you?"
"Not on the same sites as you, at least!" Cecil retorts.
"Well, maybe you should try Googling yourself! Ever since your double came to town and staged
a very public meeting between the three of you, people have been talking."
Kevin looks rather delighted. Cecil looks like he's going to lose it.
Carlos puts both hands over his ears and takes a good few steps away. It isn't enough, though. He
can still hear.
"Talking?" Cecil repeats.
"Oh yeah," Steve replies, clearly well-aware of what he's doing. "You're surprised by that? Local
radio celebrity, known for whirlwind romance with scientific genius, turns out to have high-
ranking Strex double who is also said scientist's ex? You think people aren't talking?"
"I suppose it is understandable" Kevin remarks. "I mean, you report the news and we are the
news, so"
"Understandable?!" Cecil interrupts. "It's insane!"
Though it's possible that his reaction isn't because people are talking, but because of what they're
saying.
Carlos drops his hands and turns back, trying to keep his expression level. "We need to focus," he
says, managing to use the tone he only normally needs when the scientists are misbehaving.
"We've got two issues here: these weird number-poems, and the thing we came for in the first
place!"
"Oh, good point," Steve says. "Why did you come here in the first place?"
"Well, it wasn't to find you now, was it?" Cecil replies.
"You know, you two fight like an old married couple," Kevin points out, in that oh-so-pleasant
tone of voice he keeps for times when he really wants to stir things up.
Cecil and Steve both go furiously pink and immediately stop talking, and it's like throwing fuel on
a fire. Carlos can practically feel the way Kevin's excitement piques, catching the scent of blood in
the water and moving in for the kill.
And suddenly Carlos gets it. The last piece falls into place, and he understands why Cecil
Palmer and Steve Carlsberg hate each other so much.
"Wait, were you two once an item?" Kevin asks, tone faux-innocent.
Cecil and Steve scowl at him, then at each other, and then at Kevin again.
Cecil is the first to snap.
"Yes!" he exclaims. "Way back when. We dated, and you know what? It was great. It was really,
really great. Only apparently Mr Truth-Seeker here decided that he'd gotten together with the
wrong Palmer, left me, and immediately shacked-up with my sister!"
Kevin claps a hand over his mouth in delight. "Seriously? That's OK, wow."
"Yeah," Cecil says. "Yeah. Tell me about it."
"Oh, tell the whole truth, why don't you?" Steve retorts. "You've been broadcasting Strexcorp's
lies so long, you're doing it automatically now! Let's maybe also include the part where you were
completely dismissive of all my theories and flat-out insisted that it was perfectly normal for the
City Council to declare Freemasonry a recognised religion right after they got that huge,
anonymous donation."
"It was perfectly normal!" Cecil throws back. "That's the sort of thing a city council is supposed to
do, Steve!"
Kevin edges closer to Carlos. "Do you think we should get them a ring of jello?" he asks, sotto-
voce.
Carlos glares sideways at him, but can't quite go so far as to say no.
Mercifully, at this point they're interrupted by the ringing of a cellphone and, given that the
ringtone is the theme from The X-Files, it isn't much of a leap to guess whose phone it is.
Steve sticks a hand in his pocket, pulls out something that is most definitely not an iPhone, and
takes the call. "This is Silverhawk."
Cecil rolls his eyes.
"Copy that, Redwing. You are clear to proceed."
And he hangs up.
"I'm sorry, what?!" Cecil exclaims.
Steve gives him a flat look. "You'll see."
And indeed, moments later, there's movement out in the corridor, and two people two children
step into the room.
"Janice?" Cecil exclaims, expression immediately mellowing in the way that only the appearance
of a young member of your family can provoke.
"Uncle Cecil?" Janice says, looking both surprised and relieved to see him. "We heard what
happened at the radio station. I'm so glad you're safe."
She hurries over and throws her arms around him, which makes Steve scowl a little, though only
when Janice isn't looking. As Janice steps back, her eyes flick over to Carlos, and she smiles.
"Hey, Uncle Carlos. Glad you're OK too."
Janice hasn't been calling him this for very long yet, and it's still weirdly nice. Though before
Carlos can do anything other than smile back, Janice turns and glares at Kevin.
"Why's he here?"
If Kevin being her uncle's double perturbs her, Janice doesn't show it in the slightest.
"Long story," Steve replies. "Where's your mom?"
"At home. She says if you're bothering to show up for dinner tonight, you'd better call first. I said
you had important stuff to do and that both of us might be late."
Steve grins a little. "That's my girl."
Cecil scowls at him again. He doesn't get the chance to comment, though, because at this point the
second newcomer steps into the light, having let this exchange play out before making her own
move.
And though Carlos has never actually seen her before, he knows at once that the young woman
staring over at them all is none other than Tamika Flynn herself, vanquisher of librarians and head
of the youth militia.
Temporally, she's thirteen. But in her eyes is a look way, way beyond that of a thirteen-year-old.
It's a little scary, actually even without the severed librarian hand she still wears on a long cord
around her neck and Carlos is in no hurry to draw Tamika's attention.
"You have ten seconds to explain to me why there's a high-up Strex agent in this room," she says,
her tone soft and deadly.
"He saved our lives," Carlos replies, without even thinking about it. "I know it sounds insane,
but he's trying to help us."
"I don't work with Strex," Tamika states. "End of."
"Hey, I nearly got myself killed trying to save these two earlier today," Kevin points out, the
barest flash of hurt in his eyes. "And I'm risking a heck of a lot just by being here. If Strex find
out I'm fired for sure."
Tamika doesn't look sympathetic. "One less target for me to worry about."
"Tamika give him a chance," Cecil urges, looking as though the words are physically painful to
say. "He did risk a lot to save us and it would be wrong to just discount that."
"It was probably all a set-up," Tamika counters, though her tone is more careful when she speaks
to him; more polite, as if coming from a place of begrudging but fundamental respect.
It's weird.
"I had to kill two men in the street!" Kevin points out.
"You're Strex," Tamika repeats, flatly. "Killing is the same as breathing to you people. They
probably failed their weekly performance evaluations or something."
"You want proof?" Kevin exclaims, with a genuine riled edge. "OK, then. How about some intel
that Strexcorp does not want you to have?"
He sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, though hands it to Carlos, not
Tamika. A little stunned, Carlos unfolds it, revealing a single sheet of heavy white paper, headed
with the Strexcorp logo flanked by the words Top Secret. Beneath it is a bolded title reading Night
Vale: Persons of Interest and then, beneath that, are five names.
Carlos stares, shaking slightly. "What is this?" he breathes.
"That, Carlos, was given to me when Strex sent me to Night Vale," Kevin replies. "Everyone they
send out here is given one just like it. Those are the names of the five people Strexcorp considers
key to the success or failure of their takeover operation."
"Who's on it?" Cecil asks, tone suddenly soft, as if he's caught on and he probably has to the
way Carlos is reacting.
And so, taking a deep breath, Carlos reads out the five names.
"Josephina Anzhela,
John Peters,
Larry Leroy,
Steve Carlsberg,
Cecil Palmer."
There's a long silence.
"And you're just telling us this now?!" Cecil finally manages, glaring at Kevin again.
"No, I thought I'd play my entire hand in the first round, thereby making myself completely
superfluous!" Kevin throws back. "Seriously, it's like you people have never done this before."
"Uh, we have never done this before," Carlos points out.
"I've done this before," Tamika interjects.
Everyone stares at her. "What?" she adds, with a shrug. "Kindergarten was really formative for
me."
It's hard to know what to say to this.
"I so what are we going to do now?" Carlos manages, instead.
"Time to be free!" Fey exclaims, suddenly, making everyone except Tamika jump.
"Oh, you got her working!" Janice says, bouncing on her heels and looking at Steve in delight.
"Yep," he says, proudly. "Who's the best stepdad ever?"
"You're the best stepdad ever."
They high-five. Cecil looks vaguely homicidal again.
"Time to be free!" Fey repeats. "Unite the four. Unite the four with the one who is two who are
three. Only then can the five be divided."
"She's been doing this a lot," Steve tells Janice. "It's really weird."
"I feel really weird!" Fey concurs. "But free! Free again! Free like like a bird!"
And, without preamble, she launches suddenly into song. "Na na na na 'Cause I'm as free as a
bird now, and this bird you cannot change, oh, oh, oh, oh!"
"Er Fey?" Steve interrupts.
"Na na na oh Sorry. I just feel so free!"
"I know. I know. But we need to focus. We still don't even know why Carlos and the maniacs are
here."
"Hey!" Cecil protests. "We're not maniacs!"
Kevin claps a hand to his chest. "Oh, Cecil, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Shut up, Kevin."
"And the moment is broken."
"Wow, you people ramble a lot," Tamika interjects. "OK. Fine. You want me to work with the
Strex drone, you answer Steve's question. Why are the three of you here?"
"We're on the run," Cecil answers. "After I you know, after the thing on the radio this
afternoon Strex tried to kill us. Well, no. Apparently they tried to kill Carlos and abduct me,
although it felt pretty much the same at the time. Kevin Kevin took care of it, and then we came
out here actually, so I could talk to Fey. I need to keep broadcasting. I can help the resistance.
But this is the only broadcast location in Night Vale that doesn't belong to Strexcorp. I came here
we came here to ask Fey if I could use this as a base of operations for a pirate radio show."
"Actually, that's kinda brilliant," Tamika concedes.
"It was Carlos' idea," Cecil tells her, which makes Carlos smile and grip his hand.
"But won't Strex immediately work out where you're broadcasting from and come shut you
down?" Steve asks.
"They'll be able to trace the signal," Kevin answers. "But they won't be able to shut you down
at least, not easily. Strex has no power over things they don't own. That's why they start a
takeover by buying out as much as possible."
"But they don't own this place," Steve catches on. "Because no one knows who actually owns it
even though it's totally the vague-yet-menacing government agency so they wouldn't know who
to approach to buy it out."
"Precisely," says Kevin, with a little smile.
"So, Fey can I do it?" Cecil now asks. "Can I broadcast from here?"
"Yes," Fey answers. "Yes, this is how it must be. The hall of numbers must be the hall of truth.
The visible beacon that calls to the unseen beacon, that calls to the unknown beacon"
"It's going to be risky, though," Carlos points out, still worried. "Even if Strex can't come in here
and shut you down, they can just sit outside and grab you when you try to leave. Or when you
arrive."
"Don't you worry about that," Tamika says, folding her arms. "There won't be any trouble. We'll
make sure of it."
This is a little too scary to engage with, so Carlos just nods. He's not sure what's more unsettling:
the idea of being defended by a group of children, or the idea that a group of children will actually
be the most effective defence they could have.
"Well, then," Kevin interjects, brightly. "Now all we need to do is get you off the grid." He adds
this with a rather pointed tone, as if wanting them to remember that he's been saying as much for
most of the afternoon.
Which is sort of true. Kevin with a valid point is very difficult to work around.
"Oh, that part's easy," Steve says, though from the suddenly pained look on his face, he isn't
happy about it. He isn't happy about it at all, but he doesn't have much of a choice because Janice
is staring at him with big, round, hopeful eyes, in the way only a child who has complete power
over you can get away with. "You'll have to come stay with us."
"Hooray!" Janice exclaims, bouncing on her heels and jumping up to kiss her stepdad on the
cheek. "You're the best!"
Cecil looks like he'd rather take his chances with Strex. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he
says, pointedly.
"It's kinda the best idea we have," Carlos reasons, taking his hand again. "We've got to hide
somewhere."
"And we live right out on the edge of the desert," Steve adds. "So they're less likely to notice us
but if they do, we'll see them coming a mile off. Plus I have this new security system designed to
repel Freemasons, and well. You'll see."
"Fine," Cecil concedes. "Fine."
"What about the maniac?" Tamika cuts across, glaring at Kevin.
"Oh, will you stop with that?" Kevin exclaims. "Seriously, I've been nothing but helpful this
whole afternoon and all I get for it is abuse!"
"Well, why do you think that is?" Tamika growls.
"I have no idea," Kevin replies. And then, without skipping a beat, he turns and says, "Carlos, can
I have a word? In private?"
The request comes from out of nowhere, and it makes Carlos' breath catch.
"Anything you have to say to Carlos, you can say to both of us," Cecil cuts in, protectively.
Kevin's expression goes strange. "Fine," he concedes. "But just the two of you."
They step off to the side, leaving Steve glaring after them a little as if he wants to listen in but
doesn't dare say anything in front of his stepdaughter.
"Look," Kevin says, when the three of them are mostly alone, "I have to get back before the guys
at Strex notice something is awry. But I'll be around."
He pulls a business card out of his pocket, flips it over, and writes quickly on the back of it. "This
is my cellphone number," he goes on, before reaching to slip the card into Carlos' pocket without
any regard for personal space. "Try to resist the urge to ditch it in the desert this time."
Carlos tries not to flinch too much when Kevin steps in like that, partly because he doesn't want to
give the man the satisfaction, and partly because Cecil is standing so close behind him that he
knows his boyfriend will be able to detect it. And just for a fleeting second, when Kevin steps
in and Cecil is so close, Carlos feels the strangest flicker of warmth shoot through him.
But he doesn't dare even think about it right now.
"I'll keep that in mind," Carlos replies, as levelly as he can manage.
"You do that," Kevin says, before flicking his attention over to Cecil. "You keep Carlos safe," he
goes on. "He's on Strex's hit-list now."
"Thanks for the reminder," Cecil answers, through gritted teeth. "I know how to look after my
boyfriend."
boyfriend."
Kevin gives a little nod. "I hope so." And then his whole expression brightens, as if the moment
has passed and he's slipping back into his usual, terrifyingly cheery self, taking a few steps away
and addressing the room as a whole. "Well, this has just been delightful. I have to go lie to a bunch
of extremely powerful and dangerous people now in the vague hope of keeping us all alive long
enough to see tomorrow. Wish me luck!"
No one says a word. Kevin just claps a hand to his chest, looking convincingly unfazed. "Until
next time!"
Chapter End Notes
OK, so this is where things start to get interesting for me in terms of canon. Episode
44 (Cookies) aired whilst I was midway through writing the central scene with Steve
in this chapter. I spent a night and a morning having a series of brain-explosions at the
whole brother-in-law thing, and then realised it was, in fact, inspired and that I could
now have even more fun with the dynamic! It also rather changed the direction of this
scene - and the whole plot to a certain extent - because originally only Tamika was
going to show up, but I decided that I really should include Janice too.
Also, please forgive my slightly snarky attempt to 'explain' string theory in the chapter
heading. Carlos is quite right, you do need a doctorate in quantum physics to
understand it, and all I have is a degree in politics. Which is both less useful, and less
fun at parties!
The Theory of Relativity
The Theory of Relativity
Gravity between two bodies is a result of how they warp spacetime.
***
It's hard to be sure at what point Tamika disappears. One moment, the group of them are walking
back to Steve's car which is parked a couple of blocks away and the next, Tamika is no longer
with them.
"She does that," Janice says, offhand. "Don't worry. It's perfectly normal for her."
Neither Carlos nor Cecil opts to question it.
The drive up to Steve's house is quiet. Cecil seems to be pointedly not talking to him, though
Carlos knows there's more to it than that, and Carlos himself is trying to deal with a headful of
racing thoughts. They're sitting in the back seat together Janice, of course, is up front with Steve
and eventually Carlos just leans in, resting his head on Cecil's shoulder.
He doesn't say anything. He can't right now. But the contact helps.
Eventually they reach Steve's house, out on the edge of the desert. It's well beyond the last
neighbourhoods of the town's southern border, off on its own at the end of a dirt track leading
from Route 800. It's hard to miss, though, given the large radio antenna set up outside, glinting in
the light of the setting sun.
"Oh, don't give me that look, Cecil," Steve says, as they climb from the car. "It needed upgrading.
Greater signal clarity is important in my line of work."
Cecil doesn't dignify this with a response.
Steve shakes his head and then leads them up the steps to the porch, opening the front door and
letting them inside. Beyond is a wide, central living room, with couches and bookshelves off to
the left, and a dining table to the right. The wall behind the dining table is covered in pictures and
notes and newspaper clippings, all connected by string.
A crazy-wall, then. Carlos isn't exactly surprised. It stands out rather a lot in the otherwise well-
kept and normal-looking room.
"Caitlin?" Steve calls out, with a sudden nervous edge to his tone. "We're back."
Within seconds, a figure emerges from the door at the back, through which the kitchen is visible: a
person who looks a lot like Cecil, albeit female and perhaps a little scarier. It's Caitlin, his sister,
Janice's mother and Steve's wife.
"Stephen Carlsberg, what time do you call this?!" she exclaims, hands on her hips. "Do you know
how much of a oh. Cecil? What are you doing here?!"
She rushes over, shock on her face, and embraces her brother. Cecil hugs her back, holding on for
a long moment before they both let go. "Hey, Cat," he says.
Caitlin's eyes linger on him for a moment before she looks at her daughter. "You were supposed
to be home an hour ago, young lady!"
"Mom," Janice protests, "I was busy. With stuff."
"Well, now you can be busy setting the table whilst I talk to your uncle and stepdad. And Carlos
too," she adds, smiling at him. Carlos doesn't know Caitlin well yet, but he likes her and she's
always seemed fond of him, and he hopes what she's about to find out doesn't change that.
They step over to the side, leaving Janice to head off into the kitchen with a sullen look on her
face.
"What's going on?" Caitlin asks, looking between the three men in obvious concern.
They glance at each other, and it's clear that Cecil and Steve are having a mental fight over which
one of them has to explain all this to Caitlin. They can say a surprising amount with just their eyes.
"Well," Cecil finally starts out, with a final glower at Steve, "long story short I sort of ended
up calling for an armed uprising against Strexcorp live on air this afternoon. They weren't pleased.
They tried to kill Carlos and me well, no, they tried to kill Carlos and abduct me, because
apparently they still need me alive for some reason but we escaped. I knew I'd need to keep
broadcasting so we went over to WZZZ to see if Fey, the sentient computer who reads the
numbers, wouldn't mind letting me use the broadcast equipment sometimes, and we ran into Steve
there. He was apparently trying to fix Fey and apparently that's why she's better now. And
then Janice turned up with Tamika Flynn "
"Janice?!" Caitlin interrupts. "Have I not told you about hanging around with that girl?"
"Mom," Janice protests, looking up from laying out the placemats. "She's my friend and she's cool
and she knows all about cool things like hand-to-hand combat and knife-throwing and"
Caitlin facepalms, then re-directs her worried glower to her husband. "And you're condoning
this?"
"If we want Strex out of our town, we have to do whatever it takes," Steve insists. "Besides, when
I was her age I already had my own underground gang."
"That was the Chess Club, Steve," Cecil cuts in.
"We were rebels!"
"Only when it came to your blatant misuse of the Rousseau Gambit!"
"Both of you, knock it off!" Caitlin interrupts, and then sighs. "Look, Cecil, just finish explaining
all this before you and Steve try to launch into round two."
Cecil and Steve exchange another long glower before Cecil carries on. "So Tamika and Janice
turned up and we talked some more, and oh, Fey came out with something weird. Like a
prophecy of some kind, with numbers in it. And and then"
Of course, there's one thing he's neglected to mention through all of this. One thing he can't leave
out, now. Not if he wants to explain that list, which he clearly does.
"OK, so there's one person I didn't mention," Cecil admits. "Carlos and I we didn't get away
from the guys Strex sent after us on our own. We had help. We" He sighs, then ploughs on. "It
was my double."
Caitlin's expression turns immediately to one of shock and concern. "Kevin? I I heard he was in
town, heard about the you know, the incident outside the radio station last weekend, but wait,
you say he helped you with the guys from Strex?"
"Yeah," Cecil says. "He was waiting at our house and and, even longer story short, when the
Strex guys turned up, he took them out."
"Took them out?" Caitlin repeats. "Like, talked them down?"
"No," Cecil replies. "Like" He lowers his voice, as if wanting to keep Janice from overhearing,
even though she's likely seen far worse if she's been hanging out with Tamika Flynn for a while.
"Like stabbed them both to death."
"What?!" Caitlin exclaims. "Just just like that?"
"Just like that."
"He's from Desert Bluffs," Carlos interjects, not quite able to stop himself. "It's more normal for
them."
"And he stuck with us," Cecil goes on. "He was with us at WZZZ when we were talking to Steve
and Fey."
"And Janice?" Caitlin pushes.
"Yeah," Cecil concedes. "And when we were talking to Janice."
"You've seen your uncle's double?" Caitlin says, raising her voice to make it clear she's talking to
Janice again.
"Yep," the young woman says. She's done setting the table now and has settled on one of the
couches, tapping away at her phone.
"You stay away from him. He's a maniac."
"Yes, Mom," Janice replies, automatically, in the tone common to all teenagers with no intention
of doing what they're told unless it happens to suit their interests anyway.
Caitlin sighs and turns back to her brother. "Where's Kevin now? Please tell me you didn't bring
him with you..?"
She glances at the door as if worried it's about to open again.
"No, no, he's gone," Cecil replies, in what he clearly hopes is a reassuring tone. "But look, the
point of all this is that, whilst we were all talking in WZZZ, Kevin, he he gave us a list."
"A list?"
"Yeah. A list of five people Strexcorp is interested in. Five people that all their agents are
supposed to be aware of and report back on."
Caitlin takes a deep breath, evidently guessing where this must be going. "Who's on it?" she asks,
softly.
"Old Woman Josie, John Peters you know, the farmer? Larry Leroy, Steve and me."
Caitlin stares. "Both of you?" she whispers.
"Yep," Steve says.
"Both of you are on Strex's hit list?"
"It's not a hit list," Cecil replies, though it's hard to be sure if this is actually reassuring. "From
what Kevin told us, they don't want us dead. They want us alive, but we don't know why."
"We need to warn Larry," Carlos says, the realisation suddenly dawning. "I mean he's the only
other one left. Josie she disappeared when Strex first turned up and we all know that's because
they've got her. And John well, he's in that house that doesn't exist, apparently frozen in time or
trapped between dimensions or or something. We haven't quite worked it out yet. And you and
Steve you're both here. Larry's the only one who doesn't know. Plus if he's important to
Strex, then we need him."
"Good thing we've got one person here with their head on straight," Caitlin remarks, smiling at
Carlos before returning to glaring at her husband and brother. "Either of you two have his
number?"
"I do," Cecil answers.
"Well, call him then. And tell him dinner's getting cold!"
"You want him to come over?"
"Darn right I do," Caitlin answers. "If you boys are doing this insane thing, you may as well do it
properly!"
"OK, but, you know he lives on the edge of town?" Cecil points out. "Like, way out to the east."
"Then tell him to drive fast."
"Wait," Carlos interjects, something suddenly dawning on him; something he knows his mind
has been trying to process but hasn't been able to fix on until now. "Oh oh. Steve bear with
me here do you have a map of Night Vale?"
Steve gives him a flat look. "Of course I do."
"Then get it," Carlos says, in his no-nonsense wrangling-the-scientists voice. "And something to
write with, legal or otherwise."
Everyone exchanges a series of confused glances but doesn't argue, and Steve goes to fetch a map
as promised, pinning it up on the wall where they can all see before handing Carlos a pencil.
"OK, smart guy, what's all this in aid of?"
Even now, as Carlos' eyes move over the map, he knows he's right, and he's suddenly terrified by
it. "Look," he says. "Larry Leroy lives where exactly?"
"Here," Cecil tells him, tapping a point on the map; a place on the edge of town, due east.
Carlos marks it with an X. "All right, and Steve, where are we now?"
"Here," Steve replies, tapping a different point on the map, a point on the edge of the desert, due
south.
Carlos marks it with a second X. "Now," he goes on. "Where's John Peters' farm?"
"There," Caitlin answers, tapping a third point on the map, a point in the middle of Night Vale's
stretch of farmland, due west.
"Masters of us all," Cecil breathes, as Carlos marks this point with a third X, clearly catching
on. "Your next question is going to be where did Old Woman Josie live, right?"
"Right."
Cecil taps the fourth point on the map, a point on the edge of town, out by the old car lot.
Due north.
Carlos marks that spot with another X and there it is. The connection his mind has been trying
to work out ever since he saw that list.
"Cecil," he says, voice shaking. "Where's the community radio station?"
Cecil reaches and touches the dead centre of the map.
Carlos marks the final point and steps back.
They all stare; stare at the map of Night Vale with four points on its periphery, one for each of the
cardinal directions, and a fifth at its very heart.
"'Four who surround'" Carlos breathes. "That was in Fey's weird little poem. Prophecy.
Whatever it was. 'Four who surround.' And then later 'All of the four, plus one of the three.' If
we"
Just accept it. Just accept it for now. Just don't think about it.
"If we accept that that you, me and Kevin are the three then there you have it."
"So whatever Strex wants us for you think it's connected to this?" Cecil asks.
"I do," Carlos replies. "I don't know why, yes, but there it is, plain as day."
"Get Larry over here," Caitlin urges, a hand on Cecil's arm. "Tell him it's important. But don't
say more than you have to, not over the phone."
Steve looks delighted. "Now you're catching on!" he exclaims, as Cecil rolls his eyes and steps off
to the side, pulling out his cellphone.
"I'm still cross with you!" Caitlin reminds Steve, though there's a flicker of concern behind her
glower that's hard to miss. And before her husband can reply, she turns back to Carlos. "Can I get
you a drink, hon? I'm guessing this is going to take a while."
"Yes, please," Carlos replies. "Black coffee, no sugar. Or, you know, a large Scotch."
Caitlin grins. "I thought you'd never ask."
***
By the time Larry Leroy turns up, he looks distinctly concerned. Steve lets him in, and he stares
around at them all, obviously wondering what's going on. Or perhaps suspecting he knows,
which might well class as more worrying in and of itself.
"Cecil?" he says. "What's all this about? You call me out of the blue after that whole thing on the
radio this afternoon, and then when I was driving out here there were two guys following me in a
black sedan"
"You didn't lead them up here, did you?!" Steve exclaims, looking horrified.
"Relax, son, I'm not an idiot," Larry replies, with an idle handwave. "I was doing this sort of stuff
back when you were still learning to spell 'CIA.' Needless to say, I know how to lose a tail. Those
clowns will be circling Desert Creek for another half-hour before they realise I'm long gone."
"Oh, well that's good to know," Steve concedes. "Have you met my wife?"
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Larry says, then gives her a nod, tipping an imaginary hat.
"Mrs Carlsberg."
"Caitlin," she corrects. "And this is my daughter, Janice."
Caitlin gestures over to where Janice is still curled on the couch, engrossed in whatever she's
doing on her phone, though at the mention of her name she glances briefly over and gives a little
wave.
"'Sup," she says.
Caitlin sighs in the way only the parent of a teenager can, and then returns her focus to the matter
in hand. "Larry, will you join us for dinner? It's beef casserole, which will go quite well with the
discussion of the massive conspiracy that my husband and my brother seem to have gotten
themselves embroiled in."
"I'd be delighted, ma'am," Larry replies.
"Caitlin," she corrects again.
***
So they sit down to dinner. Caitlin, it turns out, is a very excellent cook, and the food is especially
welcome after the day they've had. Whilst they eat, they explain everything to Larry, who
somehow manages to just sit and listen without looking like his entire world has inverted.
Even though it's clear it has.
They don't leave anything out this time, being up-front about Kevin's involvement in it all
although, like before, Cecil says nothing about the incident that really precipitated the afternoon's
events. The incident in the side-street, with Kevin, and that knife, and his warning, and
Carlos needs not to think about it. Carlos needs not to think about it very, very badly.
"So let me get this straight," Larry says, finally, when Cecil finishes explaining about the map
and the weird numbers prophecy. "You think that Strex is after us because of because why,
exactly?"
"We don't know," Carlos admits. "From the available evidence, I'd say that the four of you with
Cecil's help are destined to save Night Vale. And Strex knows, so they're trying to make sure
you can't."
He realises it isn't exactly the best explanation, and scientifically-speaking it's mostly
conjecture and extrapolation. The trouble is, by Night Vale's standards, it's also nigh-on certain to
be true.
"OK," Larry manages. "And you're going to..?"
"Run a pirate radio station out of WZZZ," Cecil replies.
"Protected by"
"Protected by Tamika and the youth militia, yes."
"I see. And you want me to..?"
"In the first instance, we want you to stay safe and off Strex's radar as much as possible," Cecil
answers. "We can't ask more of you than that."
"Cecil, please, you called me here and told me I'm apparently destined to co-save the town or die
horribly in the attempt," Larry points out, far too brightly. "So you tell me what it is you need me
to do."
"If you're willing to help we need to work out what happened to Josie," Cecil tells him. "If we
can find her she might be able to shed more light on all this."
Larry nods. "I can ask some questions. It won't be easy, but I know people. People who know
people. Even a few who are in the Secret Police."
"Perfect," Carlos says. "So you look for Josie, and I'll get the scientists together and see if we can
work out how to get to John Peters you know, the..?"
"Yes, Carlos, we know," Steve interrupts, which makes both Cecil and Caitlin glare at him.
"And I'll talk to Tamika and make sure the WZZZ building is protected," Janice interjects.
"You better be careful, young lady," Caitlin says, although she doesn't object this time.
Perhaps the full weight of the situation has finally settled in.
"And I'll start broadcasting from WZZZ every day," Cecil goes on. "I can finally be up-front
about what I know. About what Tamika has been telling me"
"Wait," Carlos interrupts. "You were in contact with Tamika Flynn before this afternoon?"
Cecil looks suddenly sheepish. "I've been in contact with her since just after Strex came to
town. Since I did that piece on the formation of the youth militia. It hasn't been easy because I've
never been able to say anything clearly, but I've done my best to say what I could whilst keeping it
subtle."
"And you never told me?"
"To protect you," Cecil insists, eyes full of guilt; a guilt that just makes Carlos feel awful because
what right does he have to complain about Cecil having secrets like these when Carlos himself has
kept far worse?
"Right," Carlos concedes. "Of course. I Would you give me a moment? I sorry"
He rises to his feet, suddenly needing to be alone. To be away from all this.
"Steve, it's your turn to do the washing-up," he hears Caitlin saying, obviously trying to distract
everyone else. "Janice, honey, help your stepdad with the dishes."
"Yes, Mom," Janice replies, automatically.
But Carlos doesn't hear any more, because by this point he's made it to the front door and stepped
outside, into the warm desert air. By now the sun has all but set; the horizon glowing a deep
orange off to the left. He drops down onto the top step leading down from the porch, sitting with
his head in his hands for a long moment until a sound behind him makes him jump: someone else
coming out the front door.
It's Cecil. "Room for another?" he asks, almost hesitantly.
"Sure," Carlos replies. "There's always room for you."
Cecil sits down next to him, pausing a second before sliding an arm around his waist, and Carlos
leans into the contact. Needing it very, very badly.
"You don't have to be this nice to me," he points out, softly.
"You're my boyfriend," Cecil replies.
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean"
Carlos trails off. He knows what this is about. Knows why he's suddenly felt the need to run off
out here.
Knows there's a conversation they still haven't had.
"Carlos," Cecil says, turning and putting a hand on the side of Carlos' face, gently urging him to
make eye contact. "Tell me what's wrong."
"We haven't really talked about what happened," Carlos says, very quietly. "And and you've
been leaving it out of all the explanations and OK, I'm grateful for that because I don't want to
talk about it around other people, but but" He trails off, almost losing it at that, and only the
way Cecil is still looking at him keeps Carlos from trying to make a run for it again. "Cecil, I'm
so sorry. I kissed him and and I'm sorry."
"Do you still have feelings for him?" Cecil asks, softly.
"I" Carlos tries, then does lose it and tries to pull away. Cecil still has hold of him, though,
which means he doesn't get very far, and that that sends a stab of sudden need running through
Carlos which he's not at all able to engage with right now. He stops resisting after a long moment,
caught in Cecil's eyes and loving it, even as he's still wishing the ground would open up and
swallow him.
There is something seriously wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.
"I thought I didn't," he whispers. "I honestly thought I mean, every time I've thought about
him since I left Desert Bluffs I've felt nothing nothing except fear and regret. And when he
came to town when he set-up that whole thing outside the radio station just the same. Fear
and regret. Oh, and anger. Quite a lot of that, too. And that was what I expected and it was fine
and then then he had me pinned to that wall with that knife over my throat and Cecil I was
terrified. I was absolutely terrified until I realised he wasn't going to hurt me. Realised he was
he was trying to help, and it was as though everything suddenly made sense. And I I don't even
know where it came from. I just I just needed him, all of a sudden. It only lasted a moment,
but but but it's like it left some imprint in my mind. Some some shadow of what I used to
feel for him, and"
"So you do still feel something?"
"It's it's more like I feel something again. But I don't want to, Cecil. I love you. I love you, but
no matter how hard I try I can't turn these other feelings off."
He tries to drop his head at that; tries to pull away. But again, Cecil doesn't let him, and this time
tugs him in closer, wrapping both arms around him and holding him tight.
"Why do you have to be so damnably wonderful?" Carlos exclaims, suddenly.
"If I'm wonderful, it's because you make me that way," Cecil replies. "Because I love you. And
I'm not giving up on you just because things are difficult. You've told me you love me back, and
that's all I need."
"I don't deserve you," Carlos mutters.
"Then I don't deserve you either," Cecil says. "So I guess we both just got really, really lucky."
"Our town is under Strexcorp's thumb and their agents actively want to murder me and abduct
you because of some weird prophecy that the sentient computer running the numbers station may
have accidentally tuned into," Carlos points out. "And that's lucky?"
"Well, that part not so much," Cecil concedes. "Although I'd rather that and have you than not that
and lose you."
Carlos curls in tighter, a little lost for words at this.
"It's going to be all right," Cecil insists, though Carlos is not sure that it is, and he worries maybe
Cecil feels the same, deep down. "We're safe now, and we're together, and whatever comes
next we can do this. We can do this."
Though whether he's talking about the fate of Night Vale or the fate of their relationship Carlos
doesn't know.
And that is terrifying.
***
It's a while before they go back inside; time they spend just sitting in the slowly-darkening air,
pressed close. Carlos tries to let himself be soothed by it but he can only relax so much.
When they do step back into the house, Steve and Larry are out in the kitchen, finishing the
washing-up. Janice has somehow gotten out of it and is back in her place on the couch, engrossed
in whatever she's doing on her phone. Caitlin is looking somewhat resigned but concerned
nonetheless, and she glances up from the book she's half-reading as Carlos and Cecil come back
in.
"Hey, Cecil, is that your phone?" she asks, gesturing to where one is lying, on the low table in the
centre of the couches. "'Cause it keeps buzzing."
"Oh" Cecil murmurs, reaching to pick it up. "Yeah, it's mine; it's a bunch of texts from"
He pauses, which makes Carlos step in closer, worried again for a moment.
"from Dana!"
"from Dana!"
"Dana?" Caitlin repeats. "Wasn't she the intern of yours who got trapped in the Dog Park?"
Cecil nods. "That's right. She was trapped in the Dog Park during Poetry Week, almost exactly a
year ago now. She got out using a strange door that just appeared on its own, without any
explanation and ended up in an empty desert with a mountain at its centre."
This makes Caitlin give him a weird look. "Cecil. Mountains aren't real."
"I thought the same, but apparently they are," Cecil replies.
Carlos does his best not to say anything. Some of Night Vale's quirks are easier if you just don't
question them.
"Cecil's right," Larry says, as he and Steve come back in from the kitchen. "I didn't believe in
them either at first, but I'm reliably informed they're real. I've never seen one myself, though. 'Cept
that time with the mirage."
"Of course mountains are real," Steve adds, dropping onto the couch next to Janice. "Mountains
are as real as trees or spy satellites or the secret articles of allegiance between the CIA and the
Illuminati."
Cecil facepalms. Steve scowls at him.
"What do the texts say?" Caitlin interjects, in a firm ending-the-argument-before-it-begins tone
of voice.
Cecil glares at Steve again and then returns his attention to his phone. "There's several," he replies.
"All from Dana. She says she says she's still OK, and that she's not on her own anymore. She's
with Maureen, who finally seems to exist in the same place all the time, and"
"Maureen?" Steve repeats.
"Another of our interns," Cecil explains.
"Oh yes, I remember," Steve says. "Phased out of existence live on air because of the thing with
the oranges, right?"
Cecil nods. "That's her."
"You know you guys go through interns at an alarming rate?"
"I can't help it if they die all the time! Life is dangerous! Life in radio doubly-so! Besides,
Maureen isn't dead and neither is Dana. They both just exist somewhere else at the moment."
Steve scowls again, but doesn't say any more just yet.
"The texts?" Caitlin prompts.
"Yes, right, sorry," Cecil replies, looking back at his phone. "So Dana says she's with Maureen
and they're both OK, and whoa, that there's other people there, too. Masked warriors. Dana
says Dana says they're following her. Listening to her."
"Masked warriors?" Larry repeats. "Like the ones in that same mirage? The one with the
mountain?"
"I think so," Cecil says. "Dana's mentioned them before, but this is the first time she's talked about
making contact with them."
"So what?" Steve asks. "She's trapped inside a mirage?"
"No," Carlos replies. "Best I can tell and it's not exactly easy to work out but the best I can
tell, she's trapped on another plane that the mirage was temporarily reflecting. I didn't realise it at
the time, but eventually I did some more tests and that's the way it looks now."
"Mirages can reflect other planes?" Caitlin says.
Carlos gives a little shrug. "They can in Night Vale."
"There's something else," Cecil goes on. "Dana says she's found another door."
"A door?" Larry repeats.
"Yes," Cecil replies. "An old, oak door standing unsupported by any other structure."
The light dawns in Larry's eyes. "Oh," he breathes, "you mean like the one John found months
back?"
Cecil nods. "It seems that way. Dana says the door is standing in the middle of the desert. There's
a blinking light up on the mountain, and to start off with, the door only showed up when the light
was on. But now, Dana says it's there all the time, though she can't get it open. Neither can
Maureen, or any of the masked warriors. She says they're deliberately staying close to it, though,
as if they're waiting for something."
"You think someone might come through that door?" Caitlin wonders.
"That would be my guess," Cecil replies. "But who it could be, and where or when they might
be from, I don't know. I should ask Dana if oh dear"
Before he can say anything else and before he can type more than a couple of letters Cecil
jumps back as a pair of wings erupt from either side of his phone, and it launches into the air,
making a circle of the room before settling on the edge of the central light fitting.
They all stare.
"Does that happen a lot?" Caitlin finally manages.
"It does when I try to talk to Dana," Cecil replies, with an offhand shrug. "Sometimes it lets me
reply, but a lot of the time it finds other things to do. This is actually pretty minor by its
standards."
"I see."
"So who do we think is gonna come through that door?" Larry now wonders.
"Y'know, it might not be for someone to come through," Janice chips in, not looking up from her
phone. "It might be for them to go through."
"Isn't that the same thing?" Steve says.
"Not if you've been trapped in another plane for months," Janice points out.
"Good point," Caitlin says. "So could there be another door in Night Vale?"
"Besides the door John went through?" Cecil replies. "There could be. If there is, we need to find
it."
Janice gives a little shrug, still not looking up. "Assuming it doesn't find us first."
"I don't think doors can do that, sweetie," Caitlin says.
"I think maybe they can in Night Vale," Carlos can't help pointing out.
And given the way things are going at present, the distraction of a mysterious door would be
something of a godsend.
But you should be careful what you wish for.
The Black Hole Information Paradox
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Black Hole Information Paradox
Energy cannot be created or destroyed. All information which is energy within a black hole
merges into one within the singularity. Information absorbed by the black hole is therefore lost
forever.
***
"The sun is cold and the moon rules the day. Up is down and right is left. Discount all you
thought you knew and embrace a different truth. Welcome to Radio Free Night Vale."
"First off: Hello. This is indeed Cecil and if you are hearing my voice, you have received word via
one of several anonymous and shadowy contacts about the existence of this show. No doubt you
have a great many questions and for once I will do what I can to give you the answers. Well. I
will do what I can to give you some of them. There are of course questions you may have that I
cannot answer; questions about the nature of life, and of love, and why toast always lands butter-
side down Actually, my boyfriend, Carlos who is a scientist can probably deal with that last
one, so maybe we'll get to that after the town we all hold dear is saved from the terrible calamity
currently befalling it."
"And there is a terrible calamity currently befalling it. You know it, I know it, and now, dear
listeners, I can say it. This town our Night Vale is under the thrall of Strexcorp Synernists Inc,
and we must fight back. I have stood by too long and let this happen, and now now all that is
about to change. I would like to have been speaking to you from the community radio station, a
place that is as much my home as my actual home, but if I was to return there I very much suspect
it would cost me my life. So instead, I am coming to you live from WZZZ, Night Vale's very own
numbers station and home of my generous host, Fey the now-liberated sentient computer who
has been broadcasting numbers from this very location for many years now."
"Many of you will no doubt have heard my fateful final broadcast from the community radio
station yesterday afternoon. Let me assure you that I am well, as is Carlos, who was with me at
the time. Both of us are now in hiding in the company of allies. Of fellow Night Valeans who
believe as we do that the current state of affairs must change; that Strexcorp must be driven
from our town and order our order restored here forthwith. So keep your radios tuned to this
frequency, Night Vale, for all of the news and features you're used to, along with the truth that has
previously been kept from you."
"And now, the community calendar"
It's mid-afternoon, and Carlos is driving along Route 800, out towards Steve Carlsberg's place. It's
good to have his car back even if returning home for it, albeit briefly, was deeply dangerous
and now he's heading over to Steve's place following a secret lunchtime meeting with the other
scientists.
They've all been terribly wound up, and it took him some time to get them calm enough to focus
on the matter in hand; on how to keep themselves safe given that they're known associates of his,
and on how he'll be staying in touch with them despite being in hiding.
Toby takes him aside at the end and begs him not to get himself killed. The odd thing is, even
given the clear threat to kill him and the actual attempt on his life, Carlos still hasn't really
processed the idea that he could die. It's not that he's being blas about it on the contrary, he
doesn't think anything has ever sounded so serious but rather that he's so focused on other things
that threats to him seem somehow unreal.
And now, he's on his way back to Steve's, to meet up with Cecil, and listening to the recording of
his boyfriend's show from earlier in the afternoon around about the same time Carlos himself
was meeting the other scientists. He can hear the serious edge to Cecil's tone, but at the same time,
there's something else there too. A kind of liberation. A realisation that he's finally free to speak
the truth.
Truth. There's a lot of that about at the moment. Carlos is still not so sure how he feels about it. In
principle, he's in favour of it, but in practice life was much easier when certain truths weren't out
in the open. When Strexcorp wasn't trying to kill him and when Cecil didn't know about
oh, don't think it.
He takes the long route over to Steve's, partly to lose anyone who might be tailing him (which
Steve himself explained how to do, at length, over breakfast this morning) and partly so that he
can listen to Cecil's entire show.
It's a good one. He's captivating at the best of times, but when he really gets into something like,
say, spreading information to help aid the liberation of his hometown he's downright hypnotic.
Carlos wonders if he should suggest to Cecil that they take a drive out into the desert. Way out
into the desert. Far away from the house they're currently necessarily sharing with several
other people. Away from everyone, where it could just be them.
that sounds nice.
The recorded show has just come to a rather impassioned end when Carlos makes it to Steve's
place. He pulls up outside, noticing that neither Steve nor Caitlin's cars are here though he didn't
expect them back this early but that Larry's is. This is a good sign, because he's the one who's
been driving Cecil about today, given that no one is quite daring enough to go near the community
radio station to retrieve his car.
Carlos heads up the steps onto the porch and starts to slowly push open the front door. As he does,
he catches a voice, a voice that makes him freeze to the spot, heart suddenly pounding.
It's Kevin. For a moment, Carlos is sure the man must be here, but then he processes a few more
words and realises that what he's actually hearing is a radio broadcast.
"which is of course in line with the standard Strexcorp business model; a fact they all quickly
accepted without needing further persuasion."
"Now, Night Vale, I know you must be a little taken aback to be hearing me presenting this show;
a show that has for so long been fronted by my own very talented double, Cecil. Unfortunately,
problems did arise following his expression of certain fringe views at the conclusion of yesterday's
show, so it will be a little while before Cecil returns to Night Vale Community Radio. But let me
assure you, Strexcorp has been nothing but supportive to one of its most talented employees, and
we're all just counting down the days until Cecil is back on air right here, where he belongs. I
know I am. We radio presenters often live a very isolated life, alone in our booths with a certain
sense of disconnection between ourselves and the people to whom we spend our lives talking. And
I for one remain hopeful that Cecil and I will be able to work together one day soon."
"In the meantime, I promise to maintain the standards of excellence and community-involvement
you have all come to expect; standards I myself uphold every day over in Desert Bluffs, a home I
love as much as all of you love yours. To that end let's move right into some local news."
"Strexcorp officials and Night Vale city planners have been left baffled today by the appearance of
a large oak door in the centre of town. The door, which stands unsupported by any other
structure, appeared during the night close to the city's Dog Park, which I am told is forbidden and
not to be known about. The door, on the other hand, can be known about, though as of press time
very little is actually known. A small crowd of curious onlookers have surrounded the door, some
merely observing it in all its mysteriousness, and others trying to open it. So far, none of them has
been able to get the door to budge even a little indeed, they're not even sure which way it opens;
though, really, you should be able to tell that just by looking, if the designer has done their job
properly. But I'm sure we can forgive them simply because of how impressive and beautiful the
unopening door is."
"And now, traffic. There's a car. It's driving towards you; driving at unimaginable speeds right
towards you. You probably can't see it right now if you can, maybe you'd better swerve! but
it's there. The truth is, it may not be a car at all or, at least, not any car you've ever known. But
it hurtles, hurtles along the road that is your life, faster and faster until"
Carlos can't stand it any longer. He pushes the door quickly open with a clatter and steps inside,
from the point on the threshold where he's been lingering all this time, listening. He's not sure
what to expect when he gets inside but he's confident that it will be either Larry or possibly Janice,
listening in on the enemy so as to be prepared for what could be coming next.
But it isn't. It's Cecil. He spins around when he hears the door, quickly clicking the radio off, and
there's a look of acute guilt writ large across his face.
wait, guilt? Why would Cecil be looking guilty?
"Cecil?" Carlos says.
"Carlos!" Cecil exclaims, now jumping up from where he's been sitting and hurrying over, that
guilty flicker still there in his eyes. "I didn't expect you back so soon."
Carlos gives a little shrug. "The scientists took less time to calm than I expected. Well. I don't
think 'calm' is the right word. I think it's more that they were stunned into silence by the fact that
Strexcorp tried to kill me yesterday."
He glances round at the radio. "Were you just listening to Kevin?"
Cecil's guilty expression gets worse. "Yes," he says, though it looks as though he's only admitting
to it because he's in no position to deny it. "Yes. I figured it was better to know what was going
on than just ignore it, so"
"No, of course, that makes sense," Carlos replies. And it does. It makes a lot of sense. So why
is Cecil being so cagey about it? "I listened to your show on my way back," he goes on, deciding
not to dwell too much on the matter now.
"Did it work OK?" Cecil asks, now looking almost nervous.
Carlos takes his hands, pulling them in against his own chest. "Of course it did. You were great.
You always are. And it was good to hear you finally being free to tell the whole truth."
"It was good to do it," Cecil replies, stepping in closer. "Fey was very encouraging when she
wasn't singing to herself. And I managed to get in and out of WZZZ without running into any
Strex enforcers. Larry got the car in close, and I think several of Tamika's militia were in the
bushes, though of course I never saw them."
"Well, I guess that's a success for day one," Carlos says. "We just have a lot more days to get
through."
"We do," Cecil agrees. "But in a sense that's life in a nutshell. No matter what we're facing be
it a mega-conglomerate hell-bent on taking over our town, or just the beat of daily existence
every day is a challenge, and every night is a mark of success."
His tone has dropped, the way it does when he's waxing lyrical on the radio, and Carlos is
possessed of a sudden urge to jump the man. Indeed, only the fact they're standing in Steve
Carlsberg's living room actually stops him from doing just that.
Nothing wrong with a little involved making-out on the couch, though. Steve has a lovely big
couch, and right now no one is using it.
And a little involved making-out is a great way to stop thinking about all the things you don't want
to think about but really probably should.
They're obviously both on the same mental path, because it's Cecil who pulls Carlos towards the
couch first, even as Carlos is about to try doing the same. They kiss quickly before dropping down
onto the couch, Cecil on top, launching into some rather more involved kissing and wow but it
feels good. Doubly-so because Cecil is particularly enthusiastic, as if he has something to prove
or re-affirm.
This is something else Carlos is vaguely aware he should be thinking about. But what he actually
says, when they pause for breath, is, "Who else is here?"
"Just Larry," Cecil replies. "But he's out back in that weird shed Steve keeps all his internet-
monitoring gear in. Apparently, if nothing else, it gets seamless streaming on Netflix, and Larry
says he's way behind on Game of Thrones. So if you're worrying about us being disturbed"
More kissing. More kissing is oh-so-good.
"I still don't think it's wise for us to have sex in Steve Carlsberg's living room," Carlos points
out, trying very hard to apply common sense to the situation before he loses the faculty entirely.
"Just take a drive with me? Please? We could just just go out in the desert, and"
Yet more kissing. Cecil presses in closer, dipping his head to start kissing the curve of Carlos'
neck, which he knows full-well will drive him wild and it does. Carlos wraps his arms up,
holding on tight, encouraging the attention more and more because it feels so incredibly good; to
be here, to be held, to be wanted.
To be his.
"All right," Cecil agrees, finally, when he has to pause for breath again. "All right. Come on"
He scrambles up, offering Carlos a hand to pull him upright too, and they head over to the front
door, stepping outside and
they both freeze. Beyond the door is a view out over the desert, looking north towards Night
Vale; the same view they both sat looking at only last night. But now, as they stare at the city,
glittering in the late-afternoon sun, they can see something else. There are always helicopters over
Night Vale; black, blue, bedecked with images of diving birds of prey and yellow, of course.
There are always several yellow helicopters over Night Vale.
But right now, there's a whole swarm of them, over the centre of town; a great mass of yellow
helicopters hovering like predatory insects. Cecil and Carlos freeze on the top step of the porch,
staring out at the view.
"Oh no," Cecil breathes. "Oh no. What's going on?"
"I dread to think," Carlos replies, gripping his hand tight. "I hope the others aren't anywhere
near whatever that is."
"Me too," Cecil agrees. "Because it can't be good." He pauses, and though Carlos isn't looking
right at him and rather at the ominous view in front of them he can still hear the odd little edge
to his boyfriend's voice as he goes on, "It would help to know what it was, though."
There's a weird silence, during which Carlos does now look sideways at him, only Cecil still
doesn't meet his eyes because he's studiously looking straight ahead.
"You know, Kevin's probably reporting on it," Cecil points out. "We could turn back on.
Just to see."
Carlos keeps looking at him. "Are you worried about what he's doing with your show?"
"Yes," Cecil says, too quickly. "Yes, that. Exactly that."
So definitely not that, then. Or, mostly not.
They go inside again, and turn the radio back on and, at once, Kevin's voice fills the air.
Carlos tries very, very hard not to shiver.
"Saturday, of course, is the annual celebration in honour of the mighty H'ygragagogoth. I don't
know if this is something all of you here in Night Vale have celebrated before, but it's a long-
standing Strexcorp tradition so we'll be glad to include you in the fun! Rites commence precisely
one hour after sundown, and if you're planning to attend you should be advised that loose-fitting
clothing is essential and it would be wise to have a doctor check your iron levels in advance."
"And now, dear listeners, let's move on to oh, please hold on one moment. Our producer,
Daniel, has just stepped into the studio and handed me an urgent press release. Hmmmm, let's
oh my. Oh."
The shift in his voice at that is extremely distracting, and Carlos has to quickly recite a couple of
quick theorems in his head to stop himself losing focus.
"Some breaking news, listeners," Kevin now goes on. "We've had a few reports already today
that the number of Strexcorp helicopters over Night Vale has been steadily increasing. I did
wonder if perhaps they were coming to town to join in this weekend's festivities but I've just been
informed that the reason is infinitely more wonderful. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great
honour to announce that the Strexcorp Management Board will be coming to Night Vale this very
evening. They released a statement earlier, which was delivered by none other than CEO Derek
Hartley himself. Mr Hartley said: "Now that we have a strong presence in Night Vale, myself and
the other four directors have decided the time has come for us to visit our newest acquisition. We
will be coming to Night Vale for an as-yet-undetermined length of time to fortify our position
within the town and to move our operations onto their next and final stage." Well, there you
have it, folks a quintet of real Desert Bluffs celebrities will be arriving in Night Vale very soon.
What an amazing day! If you're interested in seeing them, all you need to do is follow the
helicopters. I know I'll be doing just that once I go off air. And so, as we all take a moment to
ponder just what this means for each of us, let me take you in a spiral of hope and promise to
the weather."
Cecil clicks the radio off and stares across at Carlos. "That's not good," he manages. "That's
really not good."
"It's not good at all," Carlos agrees. "If the Strexcorp higher-ups are coming here they must
have something big planned."
"They must," Cecil says. "But so do we. We're helping the resistance now. Helping the youth
militia. They're only stepping up their game because we've stepped up ours."
The edge to his voice is rather distracting too. Carlos slides a little closer.
"I love it when you get all forthright," he says. "We should take that trip out into the desert now."
"Yes," Cecil replies, turning to wrap an arm around him again. "We should."
So they do.
***
The days start to pass.
The Strexcorp Management Board do indeed come to Night Vale, and set themselves up in the
building opposite the now-empty City Hall. A lot of people all known Strex employees are
seen heading in and out of the building, but no one is quite sure what's going on when they're
inside it.
The Festival of H'ygragagogoth takes place, just as Kevin said it would. Cecil, Carlos and their
allies stay as far away from it as possible, so they're spared from finding out what it actually
entails, but the sounds carry much further than they ought to and the fire can be seen for miles at
night. The next day, the people in town seem even more subdued, and there's whispers of blood
out in the desert and, worse still, whispers of parts of town that are covered in blood too.
The ever-growing resistance starts to step up its game. The youth militia becomes more active,
hitting known Strex businesses, and the people as a whole start to become more unsettled. More
questioning of Strex policies.
But it isn't enough. Strexcorp's hold on the town is too strong to break, and no matter how hard
they try the resistance just doesn't seem to be gaining any ground.
"We need John!" Steve exclaims, one night, when they're all meeting in his living room to discuss
how things are going. "We need Josie! If we're supposed to do this with them, how are we
supposed to do it without them?"
He has a point. They've been trying to work out how to retrieve the other two of the number-
fated-four, but so far they've had no luck. Carlos' team of scientists still haven't been able to work
out how to get into the house that doesn't exist the house they're sure that John is inside and
despite asking careful questions and making enquiries, Larry still hasn't been able to track down
where Josie could be.
Carlos tries not to think about it, as he lies awake in the dark, on the fold-out couch bed in Steve's
living room, wrapped in Cecil's arms. He's pretty sure his boyfriend is asleep, but not certain, and
he doesn't quite dare say anything.
He doesn't dare say anything because there's now only one thing on his mind. One possibility.
They've been in hiding for two weeks now, but they haven't actually seen Kevin since that
afternoon in WZZZ. Yes, they've heard him on the radio more than Carlos would have
expected, actually, because that initial day is not the only time he's caught Cecil listening in to his
double's broadcast but they haven't spoken or met up since.
Carlos doesn't want to. The trouble is, he's increasingly unable to deny the possibility that they
might have to. That Kevin might be able to help them.
But he doesn't want to say it. So instead, he lies awake, staring out into the darkness, trying not to
think. A memory crosses his mind; the kind of memory that comes unwanted and unbidden, and
impossible to ignore, and the merest flashes of it make his whole body tense suddenly.
Echoes of things past.
"Are you OK?" comes Cecil's voice. So he is awake, then. Or, at least, he is now.
"Yeah," Carlos lies. "I just can't sleep. I I keep thinking"
Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it.
"What?" Cecil prompts, gently, rolling Carlos onto his back in order to meet his eyes.
"Nothing," Carlos lies again.
"Carlos," Cecil says, resting a hand on the side of his face, "it's OK. You can tell me."
But he can't. He can't. Filled with sudden fear and a liberal dash of reticence, Carlos sits up, and
he can feel Cecil's surprise at the move.
"I can't," Carlos whispers. "I can't because because what I would tell you is that we're going to
have to ask Kevin for help, and that if we do it will just make things worse for us even if it does
make things better for the resistance as a whole. I'd tell you that we're going to have to see him
again, and you'd know as I know that when we do, he'll affect me the way he has all along.
That he'll make me feel things want things that I can't control. That I am scared to admit to
you. To myself. I don't want you to see that part of me, Cecil. I lived in Desert Bluffs for months
and and whatever I might say or think about how unsettling it was I still did it. What does
that say about me?"
"It says you're the bravest man I know," Cecil replies, sitting up too and pressing in behind him,
wrapping him in close. "Tell me something: do you love me?"
"Of course I do," Carlos says, voice cracking. "I love you with everything that I am."
"And that is all I need," Cecil tells him.
His words are so heartfelt. So soothing. So completely everything Carlos needs right now.
But Carlos can't accept them. Some part of him can't.
"It shouldn't be," he whispers. And he pulls away again, further this time, and the distress he
can feel from Cecil almost breaks him on the spot.
He wants to turn back. Wants to turn back and curl up in his boyfriend's arms and know that, even
if the whole world falls down, he'll still have this. Still have him. Except, every time he thinks
about Kevin
"I need some space," he says. "I just I need some space."
And he gets up, pulling on his dressing gown and walking away through the darkness, tugging the
front door open and pacing outside. He drops down onto the top step of the porch, looking up at a
dark sky awash with stars, feeling renewed anguish building in his heart.
He's just walked away from the love of his life.
For the second time.
Carlos wonders if Cecil will come after him. Sits, and waits, and wonders. But for the rest of the
night, there's nothing but silence; nothing but silence and a door at his back a door that has
suddenly become like the mysterious door in the centre of Night Vale.
A door that never opens.
Chapter End Notes
I wrote this entire chapter before Episode 46 (Parade Day) was released, and as such
nearly had a fit when it was. I didn't expect the doors to become a thing so fast! It was
at this point that I realised I was going to have to start writing faster, and as such have
pretty much spent every weekend since living in my coffee shop of choice (I do the
bulk of my writing in coffee shops. JK Rowling is so right).
And I just want it in record that the guys in there are saints. All baristas deserve more
love!
The Second Law of Thermodynamics
The Second Law of Thermodynamics
An isolated system invariably tends towards chaos.
***
The next morning it's clear everyone knows something is wrong. Even though Carlos is careful
to come inside long before any of the others wake up, and even though neither he nor Cecil is
being even remotely hostile, it's hard to miss that something is going on.
It makes Carlos' chest ache so much he can hardly bear it. He wants to say something anything
but he knows this is all his fault. Knows he's doing this to himself. To both of them.
It doesn't stop Cecil from wrapping both arms around him and kissing him before he heads out
with Larry, but Carlos can feel Cecil's hesitancy as he does. "I'll see you tonight," Cecil tells
him. "We should we should talk when I get back."
Carlos nods. "We should," he agrees. Maybe, if he spends all day concentrating, he can work out
what to say. How to make this right.
At times like this, distraction is key. Carlos knows that all too well. Once everyone else has
headed out, he sets off as well, going into town to meet up with the other scientists. Hoping
against hope that they might have made some progress with the house that doesn't exist.
But they haven't. They haven't, and despite several hours spent going through all their findings
again, they still can't work out what they're doing wrong.
Mid-afternoon rolls around, and Carlos has just set out to drive back to Steve Carlsberg's place
when his phone starts to ring. He pulls over and tugs it from his pocket, and is surprised to see that
it's Larry.
"Hello?" he says, lifting it to take the call.
"Carlos!" comes Larry's voice, frantic and cracking in a way Carlos has never heard before.
"Carlos, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you need to run. You need to run right now."
Terror grips his heart; a terror as cold as ice and as insidious as poison, and even before Larry
speaks the words, Carlos knows what they're going to be.
"We were attacked," Larry goes on. "Right after the broadcast. A whole swarm of Strex
enforcers appeared out of nowhere. Tamika and those crazy kids of hers fought back, but but it
wasn't enough. Carlos Carlos, I'm so sorry they took Cecil. Strex took Cecil."
And in those few words everything is undone. Carlos can't breathe. Can't think. Can't
anything.
"They they took Cecil?" he whispers, and it's a nightmare made real; the very depths of Hell
cracking open and pouring anguish out onto a helpless world. "I they"
"You need to run," Larry urges. "I'll get to Steve and his family. Take them somewhere safe.
Just just find a place to hide, and I'll call you when I've got somewhere for us to meet."
"Larry I" Carlos tries, but his brain isn't parsing any of this. Not one word. He's completely
blue-screened and there's nothing he can do.
"Run!" Larry urges again. "Carlos, run!"
And he hangs up.
The silence is like a cloak of lead, weighing down on Carlos, so intense and so crushing it makes
that long-past day in Desert Bluffs feel minor in comparison.
Strexcorp has Cecil.
Strexcorp has Cecil.
All is lost.
"Help me" Carlos whispers, but there's no one to hear. No one. No one is coming to help
him.
Cecil is gone, and Carlos is completely alone.
***
Carlos goes home.
He doesn't know why. It's as though his mind is just acting on some unthinking autopilot. He
drives around for a while, maybe to lose anyone who might be tailing him and maybe just because
he doesn't know what else to do. But eventually he goes home. He hasn't been back since the
morning he snuck over to retrieve his car, and it's strange to return to the place. To their place. The
mere sight of it makes his chest ache even more, but the anguish is so intense now that it's as if
he's moved past it. As if it's there, but he's not processing it.
It's too much. Far too much.
Stepping inside is like walking into a memory. A memory of a world before all this; before they
were on the run, in hiding, before they were guiding the resistance towards a goal they had little
hope of ever achieving.
It's all so cripplingly normal; everything where he remembers it, as he remembers it. He stands in
the hallway, staring around, expecting everything to be different.
But it isn't.
"What do I do now..?" he murmurs out loud. "I don't"
Strexcorp has Cecil.
Every time he thinks it, it seems like something out of a nightmare. Like something he's going to
wake up from, something so terrible it couldn't possibly be real.
But it is real. And every time Carlos has to realise that again, it feels as though the agony is getting
stronger.
He sinks down to the ground, rocking back against the wall, knees pulled into his chest. Trying so
desperately to think, think of something, some solution, some way out of this.
Something. Anything. He's supposed to be smart. He should be able to figure out what to do.
He can't. His mind is blank. His mind is blank and nothing will bring it back.
***
It's several hours later. Outside, the sun has set, darkness has fallen, and now moonlight has begun
to creep slowly across the floor. Carlos is sitting where he collapsed ages ago, mind still a horrible
blank, feeling as though the world is lying in pieces around him, shattered and unrepairable.
For quite some time he's been staring at something. Something he found in his pocket around
sunset. Something that's making things even worse, even though it feels as though they can't get
any worse.
It's a business card. Kevin's business card, with his personal cellphone number written on the
back, which he gave to Carlos that first afternoon in WZZZ. Since finding it, Carlos has been
staring at it, trying to decide whether or not he really is as desperate as he thinks he is.
He could call Kevin. The man might help him. Heck, the man might even know something. He'd
said he wanted to put Carlos above even his loyalty to Strexcorp, and given that he did knife two
of their employees to death outside this very house, Carlos thinks that could be good reason to
believe him.
Then again it could all have been an elaborate ruse. A set-up. One phonecall to the man and
there might be a dozen enforcers descending on this place. And unlike Cecil Carlos is not
someone they want alive.
So he sits, and he stares at the business card, as the moonlight slides further and further across the
floor.
He can't do this. Can't risk it. Mustn't risk it.
What other choice does he have? Larry hasn't called. Steve hasn't called. It's entirely possible
Strex has them too, now. Or worse.
Carlos might be the only one left. And what good is he? What good is an overly-nervous scientist
who has an unshakeable and near-crippling crush on his boyfriend's evil double?
Because he does. He's got to be honest about that, at least to himself. The reason he's been beating
himself up all this time, the reason for last night is the fact that Carlos can't turn off the way he
feels about Kevin. He's tried and he's tried, and it was fine when the man wasn't around because
he could just focus on the day of the hostile takeover and let the anger and revulsion dictate his
responses. But now Kevin is around so is everything else. The look he gets in his eyes when
he's amused. The tone of his voice when he's presenting his show. The way he moves; such
confidence and certainty in every step.
The memory of that moment, with the wall, and the knife, and
Don't think it. Don't. Don't.
Carlos pulls out his cellphone, and now he's sitting looking at both of them. At the phone, and at
the card with Kevin's number on. He stares for a long time until, finally he figures it's the only
option he has left.
The only option.
He taps the number into his phone and dials.
"Hello?"
"Kevin? It's it's Carlos."
The way the other man's voice drops at that gives away a lot. A lot. "Carlos?" he repeats,
sounding a little incredulous. "Carlos, where are you?"
Carlos wonders if Kevin already knows. If he knows because Strexcorp already knows. If this is
the last nail in a long-overdue coffin.
"I I Your people have Cecil."
"I know," Kevin replies. Of course he knows. He's probably known longer than Carlos has. "I've
been looking for you all evening. Carlos, please, tell me where you are."
"I went home."
"Home?" Kevin repeats. "Are you insane? I Look, just stay put and keep away from the
windows. I'm coming over."
***
It isn't long before there's a heavy knocking at the door. But Carlos still hasn't moved, and even
the knocking isn't going to make him.
"Carlos?" comes Kevin's voice from outside, after a moment. "Carlos, let me in."
"It's open," Carlos replies, knowing he's just given up his last chance to avoid doing this.
Knowing that he was always going to do this.
The door opens and Kevin hurries in, shutting it behind him again and then staring down at Carlos
with a very conflicted look in his dark eyes.
"Merciless Azatothoth, you had me worried," he exclaims. "When I heard about Cecil, I thought
they might have got you too. Or worse."
"No, no," Carlos replies. "I wasn't with him. I was heading out to meet up when when one of
our people called and warned me."
Kevin puts his hands on his hips. "Carlos, please. Larry Leroy called you. Just because we don't
have him doesn't mean we're stupid."
Carlos looks up, unable to keep the hope out of his eyes. "You your guys don't have him?"
"No," Kevin replies. "Nor do they have Steve Carlsberg and his family. After the enforcers
grabbed Cecil, your people scrambled pretty fast. I've got to hand it to them, they gave us the slip
remarkably well. So did you. I've been trying to find you all evening. I just didn't think you'd be
reckless enough to risk coming back here!"
Carlos gives a little shrug. "I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere. With Cecil gone, I'm just lost.
Completely lost. I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do and it terrifies me."
Kevin takes a few steps closer, and Carlos suddenly becomes aware of how vulnerable he is. He
scrambles to his feet, which makes Kevin pause, holding up a hand.
"Relax," he insists, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Aren't you?" Carlos replies, the fear making a flare of anger light up inside his chest; an anger he
hasn't processed until now and really needs not to be distracted by. "You've already hurt me. This
is all your fault. You wound me up deliberately so I'd wind Cecil up. You we got him fired.
We've been in hiding for two weeks because of that. Because of you. Because because of me."
"No," Kevin says, "you've been in hiding because you didn't want to get killed. Which is entirely
reasonable, let me tell you."
Oh, this was a mistake. This was a terrible mistake. This is only the second time Carlos has been
alone with Kevin in two and a half years, and the first time didn't end well. And this time isn't
going to end well either.
"How could you do this to me?" Carlos whispers. "Wasn't embarrassing me in front of half the
town enough? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"
"This is not about you, Carlos," Kevin replies, his voice dropping to a deadly serious tone that few
people have ever heard. "OK, yes, I'll admit the thing when I arrived was about you, but I couldn't
help it. I'd spent two and a half years trying to get over you, only to find you'd moved to the next
town across and shacked up with my double! What was I supposed to feel? Pleased? No. But
once I'd had my moment, I let it go. I let it go and I only approached you again to help you and
Cecil."
"To help us?" Carlos repeats. "You slammed me into a wall and held a knife to my throat!"
"Yes," Kevin says. "Yes, I did. And you know what? You liked it."
These words are like being slammed into a wall all over again. A very hard, very long overdue
mental wall. Carlos glares. "You take that back," he insists. "You take that back right now."
"Or what?" Kevin pushes. "Maybe it's time you faced a few hard truths, Carlos. You're a scientist.
Work it out."
Carlos glares at him for a couple more seconds, and then tries to make a move. He's not entirely
sure what he's aiming to do whether he's trying to slap the man in front of him or just get out of
the way but it doesn't really matter because the moment he acts, Kevin reacts.
And before Carlos knows it, he's been slammed back against the actual wall, wrists pinned either
side of his head. For a second, he seriously considers giving the other man a very sharp kick,
but he doesn't. He just continues to glare, pushing back against the way he's held so that Kevin
has to use all his strength to keep him in place.
Damn it. Damn it all to the deepest depths of whichever infernal plane is furthest down.
Deeper than that. To the deepest depths of the most distant black hole in existence.
Damn it. Damn him.
Kevin leans in closer, so they're only a breath apart, his presence more gloriously intoxicating than
any substance known to humanity. "Tell me to stop," he whispers and it might be a taunt, but
the likelihood is it's an offer. It's an offer and, strange though it seems, Carlos is sure Kevin
would back off if he told him to.
But Carlos doesn't. For a second that seems immeasurable both in its brevity and its infinitude, he
keeps glaring at Kevin, and then then he closes the last lingering gap between them and kisses
him. Kisses him hard.
This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. But right now Carlos isn't thinking about that.
He's only thinking about one thing.
Kevin lets go of his wrists and cups his face in both hands, kissing him back, and now Carlos can
slide his arms round the other man, leaning into the contact like it represents the last vestiges of
oxygen left in the world.
Scientifically-speaking of course it doesn't. But mentally, emotionally, physically maybe it
does.
"I thought you were mad at me?" Kevin gasps, when they finally have to break.
"I am mad at you," Carlos replies, voice as rough and as wrecked as he feels. "Now shut up and
kiss me again."
And Kevin obliges. He kisses like no one else in the world; filled with a hunger so intense and so
overpowering that Carlos can't help rocking back against the wall, confident it's the only thing
keeping him upright now.
When they break a second time, Kevin's eyes are dark as night, black as obsidian. He grabs hold
of Carlos' wrists and pins him again, before pressing in to start kissing his neck right where he
knows will best drive Carlos out of his mind.
Being out of his mind is a godsend right now. A raging, guilty godsend.
"Please," he gasps, knees almost buckling at how amazing that feels.
Kevin meets his eyes all at once, nose to nose and staring with an intensity that's just dizzying. "Do
you mean it this time?" he whispers. "Or are you going to lose your nerve and run out on me
again?"
"I mean it," Carlos insists. "I mean it."
This gets him kissed hard and quick. "You really mean it?" Kevin pushes.
"I really mean it," Carlos repeats.
Another kiss, more drawn-out and involved, and Carlos is confident that the hands on his wrists
and the knee that's slipped between his legs are the only things keeping him on his feet now.
Well those, and the look in Kevin's eyes when he pulls back again; a look that keeps Carlos in
place as though he's being held by something much stronger. "Bedroom?" Kevin asks, and on
some level Carlos can't quite work out why the man doesn't know where it is. He's been here once
before after all, and though they kept him away from the bedroom that day, it can't take much of a
process of elimination to work out where it must be.
But maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's also to see if Carlos is really planning to go through
with this.
He is, even though on every level he knows he shouldn't.
He headtilts off to the side. "Down there."
This gets him kissed again; kissed until he's lightheaded, and then Kevin pulls him around,
This gets him kissed again; kissed until he's lightheaded, and then Kevin pulls him around,
tugging him along towards the bedroom. Carlos lets himself be manhandled all the way not
because he needs any kind of coercion, but because it feels so ridiculously good.
He's lost. He knows that now. He's completely lost.
They crash through the door into the bedroom and Kevin immediately throws him back on the
bed, climbing on top of him and pinning him down before launching into yet more kissing. His
hands are everywhere, possessive and wonderful, and it feels as though the rest of the world has
just fallen away.
"Yes," Carlos gasps. "Yes. Don't stop. Don't stop"
"I've missed you," Kevin says, getting the front of Carlos' shirt open and starting to kiss roughly
across his chest and then he looks up, that darkness back in his eyes. The sight of it sends a shot
of fear running through Carlos that is quite simply the most incredible sensation he can fathom
right now, and all the more so when Kevin speaks again, his voice dropping to a soft growl. "I've
needed you."
"You have me," Carlos whispers back.
And that's the crux of it. He's been caught in the other man's eyes since the moment Kevin came
to town and he has no idea how to break free.
Or if he even wants to.
Kevin is right back in his face at that, a hand pushed between his legs, stroking agonisingly slowly
over the front of his trousers.
"Do you remember what it felt like, to be mine?" he whispers.
"Yes."
"Shall I remind you anyway?"
"Yes."
Kevin smiles. Carlos feels his mind fall backwards, into the black.
"Say please"
"Please."
And that's when Kevin gets the front of Carlos' trousers open, pushing a hand inside and starting
to stroke him. "Yes!" Carlos cries out again, wrapping his arms up around the man on top of him
and holding on.
"I want you so badly," Kevin breathes, like it's the surest truth in the universe.
"Then take me," Carlos gasps. "For the love of Einstein, take me."
Perhaps this is the last invitation Kevin needs. Perhaps he just wanted to see if Carlos would say
it. Either way, the words have no sooner slipped his lips than Kevin is pulling more of Carlos'
clothes off enough to grant all the access he needs, though no more and some of his own too,
before he reaches over to the bedside table.
Maybe Carlos is just very predictable. Maybe Kevin still knows him too well. The other man finds
the lubricant he's clearly looking for and pours some out at once, and in seconds Kevin is starting
to push into him, not looking away from his eyes. Sudden, unprepared, the intrusion makes Carlos
gasp sharply and hold on tighter, but maybe he needs that, too. All he knows is, once the initial
wave has faded, it feels better than he can put into words.
"Yes," he breathes again, the moment Kevin first moves his hips. "Yes like that, just like that"
Kevin's eyes light up, and his hands go to pin Carlos' wrists once more but gentler this time, as
if he knows Carlos won't object.
He's right.
It all feels so amazing. So damnably, wonderfully amazing. The man on top of him is like a force
of nature, surging with power and threat and promise, and Carlos knows he's lost. Utterly, utterly
lost. And in truth he's been lost since the very beginning. Since he first went to Desert Bluffs
that blood-drenched, physics-defying insanity-fest and met the man who is now dragging him
closer and closer to the edge.
He knew from the start that Desert Bluffs was dangerous. That Kevin was dangerous. Yes, it took
a very graphic experience to finally make him process it, but the fact of the matter is Carlos
knew. He knew, deep down and not so deep down what he was getting into.
Knew, and couldn't resist it.
No.
Wouldn't resist it.
There has always been a choice and Carlos has always made the wrong one.
And the right one.
"I need you," Kevin says, in that voice that makes the world fold in on itself and wrap Carlos up
in darkness and wonder. "I've needed you every second of every day that we've been apart. The
way you feel beneath my fingers. The look you get in your eyes when I do this. The sound of my
name on your lips"
"Kevin," Carlos obliges.
"Carlos," Kevin breathes back, head dipped to kiss him on the neck and then whisper in his ear.
"I want to feel you break. Break for me."
"Anything," Carlos murmurs. He knows it won't take much longer. Knows he never stood a
chance. Knows on every level but the one he can engage with that he loves that, too.
Somehow, Kevin's eyes go even darker. "Can you feel the edge?"
Carlos nods, rather more than he needs to. 'Edge' is an understatement. He can feel the abyss at the
heart of the universe, and any moment now he's going to tumble into it.
"Please," he whispers. "Kevin, please"
The other man smiles again, and the whole world cracks in half. "Anything for you," Kevin
replies, and starts to stroke him hard and quick and it's the last push Carlos needs. He drops his
head back and cries out as completion rips through him, sharp and insistent, reality almost whiting
out entirely under the sudden onslaught of bliss and perfection.
And as it does, Carlos screams Kevin's name to the rafters, the act so shot full of memory and
familiarity and the moebius-strip nature of life that it would undo him all over again, if it were
possible.
It certainly undoes Kevin, who comes just as Carlos starts to still, wrapping around him and
holding on as pleasure overtakes, murmuring Carlos' name over and over until finally collapsing
against his chest.
There's a very long moment of silence, broken only by the two of them trying to catch their breath,
pressed in close and suddenly weary. And in that moment Carlos is sure he could just curl up
here, in the other man's arms, and sleep. And rest.
Only then it all hits him, as if the curtains have been pulled back and the cold, harsh light of day
has come spilling in, assailing his eyes with the stark glow of reality.
Of truth.
He's lying on his back, half-dressed and gasping, and he's just had very energetic, very illicit sex
with Kevin.
What has he done? What is he doing?
"Get off me" he whispers, almost speechless with shock, and immediately starts trying to
extricate himself from the other man. Kevin looks very taken aback and doesn't do anything to
stop him, letting him pull away and scramble off the bed, trying to find his clothing.
"Carlos?" Kevin says. "Carlos, what's wrong?"
"This was a mistake," Carlos manages, somehow finding his voice, though it's cracking and
he's suddenly on the point of tears. "This was I mean how could I..?"
"Relax," Kevin insists. "Relax and take a moment to"
"No," Carlos interrupts, backing away further as he pulls his clothes on. "No I should never
have we should never have"
And he can feel the way his own eyes darken as he's finally able to meet Kevin's. "Just go. Go.
Get out of here and don't don't ever"
Kevin is on his feet too, now, and also re-dressing not that it takes much, in his case. "Can we
talk about this?" he asks.
"No," Carlos says again, trying to sound firm when he's not even sure how long he can keep
standing for. "Just go."
Now Kevin's eyes darken too, which makes Carlos back off a little more. "You don't have to do
this," he says.
"I do," Carlos replies. "Go. Go."
For a long second, Carlos is sure Kevin is about to attack him; about to draw the knife he's
wearing at his back and use it. But he doesn't. He stares, eyes full of a mixture of emotions that
Carlos is not remotely prepared for, and then takes a step away.
"Fine," he whispers. "Fine."
And without another word, he turns and stalks out of the room. Carlos stands in frozen silence
until he hears the front door open and slam shut again, and then
Then he's alone. Alone. And he's just cheated on his boyfriend with his boyfriend's double, who
also happens to be his own ex. Cheated on him right after he's been abducted by said ex's very
much evil employers.
This cannot get much more messed up.
For a very long moment, all Carlos can do is stand in somewhat dishevelled shock, staring at the
doorway; stare until his mind finally engages with what's just happened with what he's done
and all he can do then is stagger in the direction of the bathroom. His whole body still aches with
lingering bliss, and that just makes everything so very much worse.
He pulls all his clothes off and steps into the shower, cranking it on, and as the hot water hits
him so does the regret. The guilt. Carlos drops down onto his knees, tears finally coming as
freely as the water from above.
His mind is racing now. Racing. But no matter how fast or how far it goes, it can't outrun or
outthink the truth of the matter:
This is all his fault. This is all his fault, and he's just made it so very, very much worse.
At the end of the day perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps it's all just basic thermodynamics
manifesting on a larger scale.
An isolated system invariably tends towards chaos.
And he is so very, very alone.
***
It's at least an hour later, and deep into the middle of the night, when Carlos finally wanders out of
the bathroom again, tugging fresh clothes from the closet. He's just about managed to slow his
mind down enough to focus, but it's the kind of dull, disconnected focus that comes from being
trapped in a place of absolute grief.
There's no way he's going to sleep tonight. No way at all. The only useful thing he can possibly
do is to get out of here and try to work out what's happened to the others. If Kevin was telling the
truth and Carlos doesn't know for sure, but has to hope then Larry and Steve and his family
are all out there somewhere, in hiding.
There are places Carlos can look. People he can ask. He shouldn't do it in the middle of the night,
but maybe this way he'll at least be able to slip under Strex's radar and stay out of sight.
Finally ready, he takes a deep breath and darts out the front door, quickly locking it behind him
and then turning and that's when he sees. That's when the bottom drops out of the universe all
over again.
There are at least a dozen Strex enforcers surrounding the front of the house, with a pair of black
vans marked with their orange triangular logo parked on the roadside. The enforcers
themselves a mixture of men and women are all wearing that black suit and orange tie
combination that Carlos has long come to fear, even if it does make them look a bit like they've
dressed to match their vehicles.
Quite a number of them are holding flaming torches. He can't for the life of him work out why
they would do that, though has a sneaking suspicion it's for effect.
But all of this pales before the figure standing at their head, just in front of where the front path
meets the gate; arms folded across his chest, knife still at his back, and obsidian-dark eyes
glittering in the firelight.
It's Kevin.
He looks completely, utterly calm. He like Carlos has also changed his clothes, so he doesn't
look at all like someone who had incredibly illicit sex less than a couple of hours ago. Carlos, on
the other hand, is confident that the terrible truth is writ large across his own face, and even more
so when he meets eyes with the other half of said incredibly illicit act.
"Carlos," Kevin says, his voice the very epitome of everything he projects in public: bright,
cheery, unflappable and soul-cripplingly in control. "How good of you to join us. I hope we didn't
wake you. Then again it really wouldn't be wise for you to be sleeping here, would it? It does
make you rather easy to find"
"What do you want?" Carlos demands, trying to sound as firm and as level as he can when he's
confident he's about to be killed.
"Well, you're never going to believe this," Kevin replies, "but apparently Strexcorp have in their
infinite wisdom and all-knowing beneficence upgraded your person of interest status. It seems
several individuals in Night Vale have reported suddenly saying or hearing the same, strange
prophecy, containing a number of well. Numbers. After careful analysis of this prophecy,
Strexcorp has determined that you may in fact be of greater value alive than dead isn't that
wonderful? So, that being the case they've sent me to bring you in. Me and these delightful
enforcers."
Carlos stares, mind just blank with shock. Kevin's betrayed them. Him. Maybe because of tonight,
or maybe maybe he was out to get them all along. Maybe Carlos fell for it because he wanted to
believe that
No. No. Don't think it.
"Now," Kevin goes on, "you can surrender quietly and calmly, or you can resist, and believe me
when I tell you, the choice is all yours. I'm more than happy to set a few of these well-trained
people on you if you'd like to make things difficult."
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," Carlos manages, his voice a mostly-level but cracking
patina over a mixture of terror and anger. "Besides if you want to bring me in, you can damn
well do it yourself."
Kevin advances on him, every step measured and careful. Carlos wants very much to back away
but he won't let himself; forcing himself to stand firm, trying not to blink at least until Kevin
gets close. And then then Carlos can hardly breathe; the other man's proximity filling him with a
need that's just way beyond what he can process right now. A need and a rage, as bright as the
noonday sun.
"You should have listened to me," Kevin whispers, as he steps right in, and Carlos is sure he's
done it deliberately, so none of the enforcers can hear. "You should have trusted me."
"You sold me out," Carlos replies, just as softly though perhaps this is because he no longer has
the voice for any more. "Obviously I was right not to believe a word you said."
"Well, you should have done," Kevin says. "You should have done."
He puts his hands on Carlos' waist, and Carlos considers jumping back but doesn't quite dare
not when he can't predict how it will make the enforcers react. "Don't," he whispers. "Please."
"Oh, Carlos," Kevin replies, almost wistfully, sliding both hands slowly down over Carlos' sides
and slipping them into the front pockets of his jeans. Never mind invasion of personal space, this
practically calls for the two of them to be alone. Carlos tries not to flinch, not to blink, but it isn't
easy. Isn't easy at all. "Carlos, Carlos," Kevin goes on. "You really are very intelligent. You're just
not that smart. You should have been more careful"
Carlos tries to look like he's refusing to dignify this with an answer, rather than like he now can't
find the voice for a single word.
"You'll have plenty of time to think about it, though," Kevin adds, with a flash of a bright smile
that seems to be masking another look underneath. "Where you're going you'll never get out.
Not without help"
He leans in a little closer, so they're pretty much nose-to-nose. "Don't resist," he says. "It will
make this worse." And then he lets go of Carlos all at once and steps back, glancing around at the
enforcers. "Take him."
And in a whirl of movement, the closer enforcers move in. Hands grab Carlos from both sides, a
dark hood is thrown over his head, and before he knows it he's been manhandled into the back of
a van.
Carlos hears the doors slam shut, feels the van start driving.
And he's gone.
The Uncertainty Principle
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Uncertainty Principle
The more you know one thing, the less you can know another.
***
The next howeverlong time being difficult to work out when you can't see or hear much, and
also when it doesn't actually exist is a blur of indistinct noise and movement; distant voices, and
doors.
Eventually mercifully Carlos hears another door being opened directly in front of him. Just as
he's mentally processing the sound, the hood is pulled from his head and he's pushed forward, into
whatever room lies beyond. The door itself is slammed shut behind him, and then finally
Carlos looks up.
He's in a windowless grey room, which contains some basic furniture but little else. A cell, then.
He only has a few seconds to take it in, though, because it's at this point that he realises he's not
alone.
He's not alone.
There's someone else here.
"Carlos?" gasps an incredulous voice. The most welcome voice in all the world.
"Cecil?!" Carlos exclaims.
It's him. Cecil. His Cecil. He's OK.
They just launch at each other without another word, throwing their arms around each other and
pressing in for the firmest, tightest, most desperate hug Carlos thinks he's ever experienced in his
entire life. For a very long time he can't let go, the contact too wonderful and too welcome to even
think about breaking it.
"I was so scared," Cecil whispers, still holding him tight. "When they grabbed me, I thought they
might have got you too I thought I"
His voice cracks, and it's clear precisely what he thought. Carlos can't see his boyfriend's face, but
he can hear just how close to tears he is.
"I'm all right," Carlos reassures him. "I'm all right. They they got me later. I heard what
happened to you, and I Cecil, I thought I might never see you again"
For another long moment they just hold onto each other, needing the contact more than anything
right now. And then, finally, Cecil pulls back, meeting Carlos' eyes at last.
"My family," he asks, with renewed urgency. "Caitlin, Janice and and, you know, Steve
what happened to them? Are they OK?"
"I don't know for sure, but I think so," Carlos replies. "I haven't been in touch with them since
Larry called to warn me that Strex had grabbed you, but I have been told that they don't"
Only now everything else hits, pushing past the initial relief at seeing Cecil again; memories of
what happened when last they were together, and memories of everything Carlos has done since.
And he's confident once again that all the terrible truths are writ large across his face, for the
world to see.
For Cecil to see.
Carlos tries to step back, tries to break the contact between them because he suddenly feels
unworthy of it. Feels that he shouldn't be indulging in this when Cecil doesn't know the whole
truth.
But Cecil doesn't let go; if anything, he holds on tighter, wrapping Carlos in close again. "Don't,"
he whispers. "Carlos, please. What happened the other night it doesn't matter anymore. The
only thing that matters is that you're OK. That's all I care about. Everything else everything else,
we can work through."
"But you don't know everything else," Carlos whispers, though he stops trying to break free and
relents, letting Cecil hold him for however much longer he actually wants to. "There's I need
to Cecil, I"
Cecil pulls back just enough to meet his eyes once more. His expression is so complicated; so full
of hope and love and fear and concern, and for a long moment Carlos can't say a word.
And then as if from the abyss at the heart of the universe, the truth just comes tumbling out.
"I slept with Kevin. Tonight. Earlier. I slept with him. Well. No. There wasn't any actual
sleeping, but I he we"
There's a long, long pause, and then Cecil lets go of him, and Carlos is sure this is it. Sure he's just
wrecked the best thing to ever happen to him, and it hurts. It hurts so deep and so real that he can't
even begin to process it, and before he knows it his knees have given way and
and Cecil catches him. Catches him and wraps him back in, holding on tight, and the shock of it
seems to knock the air into Carlos' lungs again, accompanied by a desperate shudder that runs all
the way through him.
"I'm sorry," he cries. "I don't even know how it happened. You'd been taken and I didn't know
who else to talk to and I was so scared so I called him and asked him to come over just so I could
find out if he knew anything and we were talking and then then then he grabbed me, and I
think he was just trying to wind me up but it worked it really worked and I I kissed him
and he kissed me back and then then we it just"
"Did he hurt you?" Cecil asks, voice soft and level but full of a sudden danger that's way beyond
what Carlos can process right now.
"No," Carlos whispers. "No. If anything he was as surprised as me. I mean he was very
very enthusiastic but I don't think he ever thought I'd you see? You see?! Even Kevin thinks
I've lost my mind and that guy kills people!"
He tries to break free again but Cecil still won't let go, and that's probably the only thing keeping
him going right now.
"And you know what the worst part is?" Carlos finally adds. "When when it was over I realised
what I'd done and threw him out, and then a while later when I tried to leave, to go looking for
Larry and the others there he was, outside the house, with"
"Wait," Cecil interrupts, "you went home?"
"Oh, don't," Carlos replies. "He berated me about that too. I didn't know where else to go. But
when I went outside, there he was, with a whole team of enforcers. He said he said Strex
knows about Fey's number prophecy; that other people have been coming out with it too. Said
they'd upgraded me to a person of interest so now they wanted me alive. Said he was there to
take me in. He Cecil, he betrayed me. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but part of me wanted
wanted to believe that that he meant what he said, about trying to help us But he didn't. He
didn't. And just for good measure, he carried on trying to wind me up in front of all those
enforcers. He he had his hands"
The sense memory hits like a wave; the memory of Kevin standing in front of him, hands trailing
down his sides, slipping into his pockets so close and so intimate and so completely,
completely
And that's when Carlos feels it. Feels what he's been missing all this time.
There's something in his right front pocket. Something he didn't put there.
"Oh," he whispers, and jumps back, and somehow Cecil seems to realise he's not trying to run
away this time and lets him move. "Oh" he breathes again, sliding his hand into his pocket and
finding his fingertips closing around
he draws it out.
"Is that a key?" Cecil says, somewhat unnecessarily as it's clearly what it is. "Where did it come
from?"
"I think Kevin put it there," Carlos replies, staring in shock at the key in his hand. It looks old,
made of dark, worn metal, with a long barrel and a looped end. "Right before he let the enforcers
grab me, he"
Where you're going you'll never get out. Not without help
And Carlos understands. Understands, even though he can hardly process the realisation.
Kevin hasn't betrayed him. He's sent Carlos in here.
He's sent Carlos in here to get Cecil out.
"He slipped it to you?" Cecil says.
"He must have done," Carlos manages. "I didn't realise at the time, but he must have done."
"So he got Strex to want you alive rather than dead, slipped you a key, and got you locked in
the same cell as me," Cecil reasons. "Carlos, I think"
"Don't say he's trying to help us," Carlos replies, even though he's sure now that this must be
the truth. "Don't. I don't think I can take it."
"Then explain that," Cecil says, softly, gesturing to the key that Carlos is still holding.
Carlos stares at it. Stares at it for a long time, eyes following the curve of the loop, the topography
of the operational end; like a range of short, blocky mountains.
"It might not work," he manages, finally. "It might just be to wind me up more."
"Maybe we should try it," Cecil suggests. "Then we'll know."
"There could be dozens of enforcers out there," Carlos reminds him. "Even if it does work, they'd
be able to recapture us in moments. Or worse."
But he suspects otherwise. He just doesn't want to engage with the very likely truth that Kevin
in his own warped, warped way is still trying to help them. He doesn't know how to engage
with that very likely truth, and he certainly doesn't know how to engage with the fact that Cecil is
far too calm about it.
"OK," he says, finally. "OK. We'll try it. Just please don't get killed"
Cecil reaches to pull him in close again, cupping his face and kissing him. "It's going to be all
right," he murmurs. "It's going to be all right, and I love you."
Carlos kisses him back, letting the contact and the words and the warmth all reassure him. Letting
them make him believe that maybe maybe there is some way out of all this.
Literally and emotionally.
Finally letting go, they approach the door. It's made of dark wood, with a handle and lock in the
same heavy, worn metal as the key Carlos is still holding. They grip hands, pausing for one last
moment before Carlos reaches out, slipping the key into the lock. It slides into place with a soft
clunk, and then he turns it, feeling the tumblers inside give way perfectly.
"It worked," he breathes, hardly daring to believe it.
It worked. Kevin has actually sent him in here with the key, to get Cecil out.
What in the name of Einstein is the man playing at?!
But Carlos can't stop to think about this now. Not when he and Cecil are about to be loose in the
corridors of some kind of secret Strexcorp facility. He grips his boyfriend's hand tighter, pulls the
key back and slips it into his pocket once more, and then cautiously opens the door.
They peer out. Beyond, the corridor is narrow and dimly lit; windowless and empty. There's a fair
amount of blood on the walls, some of it old and some of it not. The section of wall
immediately opposite their door seems to be painted with three rough triangles and they, too, are
drawn in blood.
"Are we in Desert Bluffs?" Cecil whispers, tone suddenly shot full of horror.
"I don't know," Carlos whispers back, feeling a similar horror wrap vice-like around his own
heart. He hadn't even considered the possibility until now. Hadn't even thought that Strexcorp
might choose to bring its most valuable prisoners back to the very centre of its operations.
But it makes sense. Awful, awful sense.
They have no idea which way to go, so they carefully pull the door closed behind them, turn right
and start walking, staying very close together and trying to be as quiet as possible. Even so, every
step still feels like it's as loud as a thunderclap, alerting everyone to their presence.
No one comes, though. There's no other footsteps; indeed, there's no other sound except a low,
distant humming that fills Carlos with renewed dread, although to be fair he has more than
enough reasons to feel dread without the hum. The more they walk along the dark corridor, the
more blood they see, streaked on the walls and pooled on the floor, glittering in what little light
there is.
It's like something out of a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare.
The corridor itself is long and straight, stretching off ahead of them into the darkness. They keep
walking, on and on, and still the corridor doesn't stop, doesn't bend. It just keeps going, with door
after door on their right, and nothing but rough, blood-streaked wall on their left.
On and on and on until
Carlos pauses. The section of wall just up ahead is familiar, marked again with those three
triangles drawn in blood. "Look," he whispers, pointing.
"The triangles," Cecil replies. "Same as the ones outside our door. You think there might be
someone else from Night Vale in there?"
"It's a distinct possibility," Carlos agrees. "Should we maybe risk looking?"
It would be dangerous, but on the other hand there could be someone else trapped inside.
Someone they can help.
"Yes," Cecil says. "Yes. Just just be ready to run if this goes wrong."
Carlos nods, and pulls out the key, slipping it into the lock. He feels the tumblers turn inside, feels
everything clunk into place, and then
"Oh," he murmurs. "I think I just locked it rather than unlocked it"
A little perplexed, he turns the key back, feeling the tumblers slide again, and this time
The door opens. Beyond it is an empty cell, and though it's reasonable to assume that there will
be other empty cells in this place, something about the exact layout, the angle of the spotlights, the
position of the single, rough chair next to the single, rough table something about it all makes
Carlos realise.
"This is where we started," he whispers, as he slips the key into his pocket again. "This this
is exactly where we started. But we've been walking in a straight line this whole time, so how
could we possibly..?"
"Oh no," Cecil breathes. "Carlos I think we're trapped in a geographical loop."
Carlos stares at him. "In a what?"
"A geographical loop," Cecil repeats. "We get them round here sometimes. Places that loop back
on themselves, so even if you walk in a straight line you always end up where you started."
"That's impossible, Cecil," Carlos insists, but even as he says the words, he knows it will turn
out to be very possible. Regardless of whether they're in Night Vale or Desert Bluffs either
place could allow for something like this.
"I'm afraid it isn't," Cecil says. "And what's worse we're trapped in a linear corridor, and all the
techniques for dealing with geographical loops require you to walk diagonally, which we can't
do."
Carlos steps in closer again, feeling a sudden shiver run through him. "So how do we get out?"
"I don't know," Cecil admits. "There there must be a way, because the enforcers got us in
here in the first place, and unless they're hiding in one of these other rooms, they got out again."
"We could see if any of the doors look different," Carlos suggests, trying to concentrate on solving
the problem rather than dwelling on the horror of their actual predicament. "One of them might
lead out of here."
"Good idea," Cecil agrees. "You're so smart."
Not according to Kevin, Carlos thinks, and then wonders if the man really meant it, or if he was
just saying it as part of the act, and was it really an act or partly an act, or
OK, he needs to stop thinking about it entirely.
They set off down the passageway again, looking at the doors as they go. There's quite a lot of
them; all in that matching, oblong design, made of rough, dark wood with old, heavy metalwork.
But they're all identical. Every single one is the same. The only difference is the marks in the
blood on the opposite wall, most of which are just indistinct streaks.
Eventually they're back at the three triangles again. They've been all the way round a second
time, and not one of the doors has seemed remotely different from any of the others.
"We're trapped," Cecil whispers. "We're trapped."
"Wait," Carlos breathes, suddenly noticing something. "Cecil look at the door. Look right at
the door we first came through. You see it? See the shape it is?"
"Of course I do," Cecil replies. "Carlos, what are you..?"
"Now turn your head," Carlos says. "Turn your head and just just glance at it out of the very
corner of your eye."
"OK, I whoa."
It's clear Cecil has seen it too, now. Something Carlos didn't notice at first. If you just catch the
door out of the very corner of your eye it's a different shape; still made of wood, but obviously
oak now, and with a rounded top rather than the blocky oblong it appears as if you look right at it.
The handle is different too, no longer made of rough, dark metal but brass instead, a little
burnished but still bright in comparison.
"This was our original door, right?" Carlos says.
"Right," Cecil replies.
"That means it should be unlocked," Carlos goes on. "So keep just glancing at it out of the
corner of your eye and try opening it."
Cecil reaches out, turning the handle and the door opens. The door opens, and suddenly the
passageway is filled with light. Bright, radiant, black light. And standing there, in the opening
which they can now see even if they look right at it is a tall, winged figure, resplendent and
wonderful.
"Oh my," Cecil whispers. "That's"
He seems unable to finish his sentence; staring as Carlos is at the figure in front of them. And
though it's impossible of course the fact of the matter remains.
They're looking at an angel.
"Greetings," the figure says, in a smooth and almost genderless voice. "You certainly took your
time. We were expecting you at least five minutes ago."
"Time doesn't exist," Carlos finds himself saying, though he's so transfixed by the figure by
the angel that he doesn't quite know where the words are coming from.
"Very true," the angel replies. "Nevertheless, you're late. I have a lot to get done today, so we'd
better make this quick."
"Uh make what quick?" Cecil asks. "Can we can we maybe come through there? This
place isn't exactly pleasant."
It's hard to see precisely what's beyond the door now, but it's clearly no longer an empty cell.
There's light; a light other than the glow of the angel. A light that is equal parts alluring and
painful, almost. It pushes at the back of Carlos' eyes, making his head hurt a little.
"That would be unwise," the angel tells him. "You are not meant to see this. Not yet."
"Then why were you waiting for us, if not to let us out?" Carlos asks.
"Because I can tell you the way out though, in truth, I think perhaps you know it now. Or, at
least, could find it."
"We look out of the corner of our eyes?" Cecil says. "If we try that again, at a different point in
the corridor will it work?"
The angel nods. "Yes. Yes, Cecil, it will work."
"You know my name?" he asks.
"Of course I do. And I think perhaps you know mine."
"Erica? No wait Erika. With a K."
The angel nods again. "Quite. There is something else, however. When you leave, there is
someone we need you to take with you."
And, without waiting for a response, the angel steps aside. Beyond that radiant form, those
glowing wings, is a vast, desert wastescape, with a single mountain at its centre. A mountain atop
which is a blinking red light, and beyond which is the brighter, more insistent light that they've
been able to feel since the moment the door first opened; a light that hurts the more Carlos thinks
about it.
But they don't have long to take all this in because they can also see a second figure standing
behind the angel; a figure that seems to glow with a lesser but no less existent aura of its own.
Of her own.
"Josie?!" Cecil exclaims, voice cracking suddenly with hope and relief.
"Hello, Cecil," says Old Woman Josie. "It's so good to see you again. And you've got Carlos with
you yes, yes, this is going to work out just right."
"How long have you been here?" Cecil now asks. "I thought we thought Strex had taken you!"
"They did," Josie replies. "Technically they still have me. They just don't know about some of
the doors in here. They're a little bit special, you see. Or don't see, as I imagine you're
discovering. Once I realised I could find them, I've been in and out as necessary. This desert
which is like ours but not ours is vast and open, but it isn't empty."
"Wait Dana!" Cecil exclaims. "Is she there? Can we use this to bring her home?"
"She's here," Josie tells them. "But I have been careful not to let her see me. Her journey
follows a different path. It is a different path, and we must not interfere. Until the crucial
moment Former Intern Dana must remain lost. As, in her own way, must Former Intern
Maureen."
"Two who are lost" Carlos murmurs, suddenly realising.
Josie smiles. "You really are the smart one," she says. "Yes. Oh yes. Dana's day is coming. It is
fast approaching, like the light; the light beyond the mountain. I'm sure you can feel that, too"
"It hurts," Carlos says, and Josie nods.
"Yes," she replies. "It hurts. It insists. It devours."
"It is a Smiling God" Cecil says, and then looks surprised. "I don't know where that came
from."
"It came from the truth," Erika replies. "It is the truth."
Carlos suppresses a sudden shudder. "We need to get out of here," he reminds them.
"Indeed we do," Josie agrees. "Thanks, Erika. We'll take it from here."
The angel nods. "Of course. I will see you beyond the end. Beyond the unravelling of all things."
"That you will, dear," Josie says. "That you will."
She steps through the door, into the dark passageway where Cecil and Carlos are still standing,
and turns, shutting the door behind her. The instant she does it's back to being the same oblong
shape it was in the beginning.
"Odd place, this," she remarks, looking at the two of them. "We should probably get out. I've
been waiting months for this day."
"If you could use the doors to move around, why not just find one that gets you out of here?"
Cecil asks. "Why would you want to stay?"
"I had to be careful. If I fall so does Night Vale," Josie answers, an odd little edge to her tone
that makes Carlos shiver again not in fear, but in some strange kind of anticipation. "But I'm not
the only one. You know that now, surely? Please tell me you know."
"You mean the four from the prophecy?" Carlos has to ask. In many ways he still wishes they
didn't have to put so much stead in that prophecy because it isn't exactly scientific but the fact
remains it seems wholly accurate.
Josie smiles. "Quite," she says. "You know who they are?"
"You, John Peters you know, the farmer? Larry Leroy and and Steve Carlsberg," Cecil
replies.
And now Josie nods. "Indeed. Do you know what the four of us are supposed to do?"
Now both Cecil and Carlos have to shake their heads. "No," Cecil replies. "We haven't been able
to work it out. We just know that Strex wants all of you. And me. And apparently Carlos too,
now, but that might have been because of something Kevin did."
"Perhaps we should get out of here first," Carlos suggests, partly because it would be a good
idea, and partly because he really doesn't think he can cope with any kind of discussion about
Kevin right now.
"Oh, you're probably right," Josie concedes. "You are the smart one, after all. We need to head
along this passageway. Keep looking at the doors the way you did before just out of the corner
of your eye. You're looking for one with that symbol on it."
And she points to the wall, where the three rough triangles are drawn in blood.
"That's comforting," Carlos manages.
"Not really," Josie replies. "You might want to start preparing yourself emotionally. This next part
is not going to be pleasant. This facility it exists on the edge of reality, but it has an anchor in
our world. A fixed point of ingress and egress. That point is on the outskirts of Desert Bluffs."
Everything in Carlos' mind grinds to a halt, suddenly frozen in horror at the thought of being in
that place again. He doesn't know how he managed to live there for so many months, but he's
confident even just seeing it again is going to be
Well. Hell on Earth.
"I've never seen the town itself," Cecil whispers. "Only only the inside of their radio
station"
"I've seen it all," Carlos just about manages, which makes Josie look at him in surprise.
"You've seen Desert Bluffs?" she asks.
No point in hiding it. "I used to live there."
Josie actually takes a step back. "You're not from the place, are you?"
"Merciful Einstein, no. I just lived there for a few months. And then I left, and never, ever went
back."
"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but you're about to see it again," Josie says, putting a hand on his arm.
"We all are."
"You've seen it too?" Cecil asks.
"Oh yes," Josie replies. "But not for a very long time. There was an incident, way back in
1953. It started with the Summer Reading Programme and ended well. It ended when it ended.
Those of us left alive from those days don't like to talk about it." Her eyes go a little distant. "It
was quite a summer, though. I was only thirteen"
Before she can say any more, there's a sound somewhere behind them and ahead of them
which cuts through the cool air: the sound of a door opening, and of footsteps.
"Oh no," Carlos breathes. "Come on, run!"
So they do, running along the passageway, trying to glance at the doors to their right just out of
the corner of their eyes. It isn't easy, not when they can hear someone behind them, someone
potentially coming after them, and Carlos can hardly think from the terror, from the thought that
they might mess up their one chance.
And then he sees it. "Here!" he says, in a hushed whisper. "This one!"
In direct sight, it's just another non-descript oblong door but out of the corner of his eye, it's
impressive and oak, with a rounded top and a brass handle. And there, carved into the wood, are
three triangles.
"Open it!" Cecil exclaims.
Carlos reaches out, grasping the handle but the door is locked. Panic hits for a second, and then
he remembers. "Oh!" he says, pushing his hand into his pocket and tugging out the key.
Behind them, the footsteps are getting louder. Closer. More resonant.
Carlos slips the key into the lock and turns it. The door swings open filling the passageway with
deep red light. Deep, familiar red light.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about it.
He pulls the key back from the lock, grabs Cecil's hand and with Josie right behind they dive
through the door
and out into the soft, warm air of the desert at night; rocky ground beneath their feet, and more
of that red light up ahead.
Carlos turns. Behind them is the door, standing alone and unsupported by any other structure.
"Close it!" Josie exclaims. "Close it and lock it again, quick!"
They don't need telling twice. Cecil grabs the handle and pushes the door shut, and then Carlos re-
locks it. Seconds later, there's footsteps on the other side, and someone or something starts
hammering on the heavy wood, and obviously trying the handle although they don't seem able
to get the door open.
"That was close," Cecil breathes.
"I'm still not sure this was wise" Carlos manages.
He's turned from the door now and is staring out ahead of them, transfixed in horror by what he's
seeing. They're on a low ridge on the outskirts of a town a town Carlos will never forget and
could never mistake.
No matter how hard he tries.
He attempts to say something more; anything more but the words suddenly won't form. At his
side, Cecil turns too, and Carlos can feel the way the other man just freezes at what they're seeing.
The town beyond them is Desert Bluffs, wrapped in the deep cloak of night. It glows, though;
glows with a dark, red light that seems to come from its very core. Even at a distance, even in the
dimness Carlos can see the blood that covers every external surface, the viscera draped on the
almost skeletal trees.
And he can hear it; that low, sonorous hum. It's louder now; a sound that fills him up, primal and
terrible and familiar.
He'd gotten used to it the first time around. But when you stop being used to it, you can't ignore it.
"We have to get out of here," Cecil finally manages, his voice cracking in unveiled terror.
"It's a long way across the desert," Josie reminds them, with a twinkle in her eyes that suggests she
knows more than she's letting on. "The last thing we want is"
All of a sudden, the whir of helicopter blades cuts the stillness, and they can see two no, three
Strexcorp helicopters lifting into the air from a helipad between them and the town, activating
bright searchlights and starting to circle around.
"Run," Cecil breathes, but Josie grabs his arm.
"I'm seventy-four, Cecil," she points out. "I don't do running."
"We need to find somewhere to hide, then," Carlos reasons. "The terrain is rocky. There might be
somewhere we can lay low."
They turn, keeping Desert Bluffs mercifully behind them and hurry past the door, starting to
scramble over the rocks beyond it, heading further up the low hillside. There are indeed various
outcrops all around, but none of them look large enough to serve as shelter for three people.
And they're going to have to move quickly, because the yellow helicopters are fast encroaching.
"We're not going to make it!" Cecil exclaims.
"We have to!" Carlos calls back, desperately.
They're moving as fast as they can, but even if all three of them could run flat-out, they can't
outrun helicopters.
Carlos can hear the distant thrumming again, the hum of Desert Bluffs, and though it's terrifying
it also has the strangest alluring edge. Calling him back. Calling him in.
No.
No.
And then a new thrum cuts the air as, from beyond the top of the ridge, a fourth helicopter erupts
into view. For a second Carlos is sure this is it, sure they're caught, but then he realises that the
fourth helicopter isn't like the others. Yes, it's yellow mostly yellow but it's battered and worn,
as though it's taken multiple hits from some kind of large projectile. The Strexcorp logo on the side
has been roughly scratched over and half painted out, and replaced with a daubed purple eye. It
matches similar symbols covering the rest of the bodywork, almost like war paint.
The side door of the fourth helicopter slides open and there inside are three figures three young
girls, aged maybe twelve or thirteen all also daubed with purple and black war paint and holding
heavy slingshots.
"Now!" Carlos hears one of them shout.
And they start firing, shooting out a swarm of fist-sized rocks at the encroaching Strexcorp
helicopters. This clearly takes the other pilots by surprise, and the first of the three goes into a
sudden spin, struggling to maintain altitude. The other two swing around, trying to give the first
room to manoeuvre, but in the commotion it leaves the way clear for Carlos, Cecil and Josie to
move further up the hillside.
"Come on!" shouts one of the girls inside the fourth helicopter, as it moves lower to the ground
obviously trying to let them in without landing and only now does Carlos realise that the speaker
is Janice. "Come on, run!"
They hurry over to the helicopter, which is now hovering just above the ground, sending a wash
of sand and turbulence scattering in all directions. Darting through it, shielding their eyes, they
make it to the open door, Cecil and Carlos helping Josie in first, and then scrambling in together.
"Go, go, go!" one of the girls shouts, and the helicopter rises up at once. As it does, the three
members of the youth militia for that is clearly what they are re-take their positions in the open
doorway, firing more rocks out at the Strexcorp helicopters. The first of them the one that was
hit initially has landed roughly some way off, but the other two are still giving chase.
"Get us higher!" Janice shouts clearly talking to the pilot and they quickly rise further, taking
the Strexcorp helicopters by surprise, and giving the girls a clear aim at the rotating blades. There's
another quick swarm of rocks, and a burst of light as something on the closer Strexcorp helicopter
catches fire as it, too, goes into a spin and starts struggling to land.
Well. Not so much 'land' as 'crash less badly.'
The third helicopter apparently takes the hint and backs off and, as it does, their own helicopter
circles around and starts tearing away across the dark sand wastes, leaving Desert Bluffs far
behind.
After a moment, one of the girls slides the door shut and clunks the lock into place.
"Did we get them all?!" shouts a voice from the cockpit; a voice that is now unmistakeably
Tamika Flynn.
"Yep, we got them!" Janice calls back, face breaking into an expression of relief and delight
beneath her slightly terrifying war paint.
"How did you find us?!" Cecil exclaims, looking over at his niece from where he and Carlos are
still half-sprawled on the floor.
"Long story," Janice says. "Tell you when we land."
And so, for the moment, they settle for staying where they are; sitting close on the floor of a
commandeered helicopter piloted by a thirteen-year-old, and racing away across the dark desert
with Old Woman Josie watching them, a knowing expression on her face.
It feels like the insane end to an insane day.
But it isn't over yet.
***
The lights of Night Vale welcome and bright and so normal in comparison are glowing up
ahead as the helicopter finally puts down in the desert, in the shadow of a low gorge. With Tamika
leading the way, they all head off across the scrublands Cecil, Carlos and Josie, plus Janice,
Tamika and their two comrades, who turn out to be named Paige and Hannah finding
themselves surprisingly close to Steve Carlsberg's place.
"Are you sure we're safe here?" Carlos can't help asking.
"Wouldn't bring you if I wasn't," is all Tamika will say in reply, but it's surprisingly reassuring (for
all it's terrifying too).
When they finally arrive, it's Janice who opens the door, leading them all into the large front room
of the house. The second she does, three figures leap up from where they've been sitting at the
table: Larry, Caitlin and Steve.
"Masters of us all, you're alive!" Caitlin exclaims, running over to throw her arms around her
brother, hugging Cecil tight. "And you too," she adds, letting go of him and practically jumping
on Carlos, crushing him in before she lets go. "We've been worried sick and what are you
wearing, young lady?!"
Caitlin's attention has finally reached her daughter, who is like Paige and Hannah dressed in
her girl scout uniform but with a purple bandana and, of course, all the war paint.
"Mom," Janice whines, "do we have to do this now?"
Whatever answer this provokes is cut short, however, as Steve immediately launches himself at
Cecil, slapping him once across the face and then crushing him in a very tight hug. It lasts only
seconds clearly taking Cecil very by surprise and then Steve backs off, trying to look as
though he never did anything.
"You scared us to death!" he exclaims, glaring at his brother-in-law with an expression that is all
confused relief and strenuous denial. "Don't you ever do that again!"
"I didn't exactly plan to get jumped by Strexcorp!" Cecil retorts, glaring back at him. "It isn't how
I schedule my day: wake up, eat breakfast, present subversive pirate radio show, get jumped by
Strexcorp!"
"Everybody calm down," Josie interrupts, without raising her voice.
Everyone calms down. Or, at very least, everyone shuts up.
"Much better," Josie goes on. "Now, I think we should all have a seat and discuss this like adults
or, at the very least, sensible young women," she adds, glancing at the four girls. "Perhaps with
a nice cup of tea. Or cocoa. Do you have cocoa?"
"We do," Caitlin replies, with a little smile.
Josie grins. "Perfect."
***
It's a little while later, and they're all sitting around the main table in Steve Carlsberg's living room
with a mug of hot cocoa each.
"All right," Josie says. "Now. Maybe we should take this from the beginning."
So they do. They start by explaining to her just what's been going on in Night Vale in the last few
months. Josie turns out to know more of it than Carlos might have expected, but if she's been
travelling about using the doors and talking to angels, that probably isn't a surprise. They also
explain Fey's number prophecy, which just makes Josie smile knowingly without elaborating.
And then they move to the events of the day. Larry apologises profusely to Cecil for letting
Strex get hold of him, despite Cecil insisting over and over that there was nothing either of them
could have done. Tamika even grudgingly apologises too, looking annoyed at herself for having
let Strex get the upper hand.
"It won't happen again," she promises. "We'll double our presence. Plus, now we have the
helicopter."
"Tamika wasn't happy when they got you," Janice tells her uncle. "That's how the Ralph's ended
up getting burned down."
"The Ralph's got burned down?" Cecil says, looking a little stunned.
"Yep," Janice replies, calmly.
"What?!" Caitlin exclaims. "That was you?!"
Tamika shrugs, expression entirely free of guilt. "It had to be done."
Much of the rest falls to Carlos to explain. He of course leaves out the whole part where he
had ragingly illicit sex with Kevin, choosing to reduce it all down to 'so I called Kevin because I
didn't know who else to go to and he came round, we talked, it didn't end well and then he left'
though he's confident that, once more, the terrible truth is writ clearly across his face.
It's strangely easier when they move on to the Strexcorp facility, and the doors, and Josie.
Everyone is obviously relieved to see her, especially after their earlier discussion of the prophecy
she's part of.
"One thing I still don't get," Carlos says, now looking over at Tamika and Janice. "How did you
know where we were?"
Neither one answers. They just both look at Josie.
"I told them," the old woman says.
"You told them?" Steve exclaims. "But weren't you in prison?"
"Oh yes," Josie replies, calmly. "But I've been using those clever doors. There's more of them
than you think; certainly more than Strexcorp wants you to know about. I found one that led into
the girl scout clubhouse this evening, so I went and warned these smart young women that we'd
need picking up in a few hours."
"But but if you could just leave why didn't you?" Larry asks, looking stunned.
"Because then who would have helped these two get out?" Josie replies, gesturing to Cecil and
Carlos. "We need them."
"I thought we rescued you?" Cecil says, looking just as stunned as Larry.
"And you did," Josie answers. "You rescued me, and I rescued you."
"That's a bit recursive," Carlos manages.
"It's very recursive, dear," Josie says. "Sometimes the best things are."
A strange silence descends.
"So what now?" Cecil wonders aloud.
"Well, there's another complication," Steve says, which makes Cecil scowl at him as if the
complication was his fault. "I've been monitoring the daily broadcasts by your lovely evil double.
Such a charming guy. Sometime remind me to play you his reminiscences on the Festival of
H'ygragagogoth. You won't want to eat for a week."
"Get to the point, Steve," Cecil interjects.
Steve sighs, and hauls a tape player up onto the table.
"Is that a tape deck?" Cecil exclaims.
"Yes."
"You know it's the twenty-first century, right? We have CDs now. And MP3s."
"Yes. And the government can track you through both of them. You want to stay safe, you use
tapes."
Cecil facepalms. Steve scowls at him some more. "Can I get to the point now?"
"I wish you would" Cecil murmurs.
"Right, then. This is a recording of Kevin's show from earlier today. Well. This is part of it. I
won't play you the whole thing. That guy rambles even worse than you do"
Cecil reaches under the table and clasps Carlos' hand, and it's only when the sudden shock has
died down that Carlos realises the other man is trying to reassure him.
And then Steve hits the play button and Kevin's voice fills the room.
"on Tuesday, which is just so fortuitous because that's the afternoon of the pledge drive, and I
know it's going to be the best day ever!"
"Now, dear listeners, a very important announcement. Lauren, our programme director, briefed
me on this during the last commercial break, so it's almost as much news to me as it will be to
you. You will recall, I'm sure, the unopening door that appeared in the centre of Night Vale
close to the forbidden Dog Park just a couple of weeks ago. Since that time, the Strexcorp
Management Board has had people working around the clock to try to understand the mystery of
this door. To find out what it means and where it came from. To answer that most fundamental of
questions why? Although they haven't revealed everything just yet, they released a statement a
short time ago, stating that they will be holding a public press conference at the door itself in two
days time. All citizens of Night Vale who are able are asked to attend the conference, which will
commence at 3pm on Sunday afternoon. I for one am very excited to hear more about this
strange door and the secrets it conceals, and all five of the Management Board led by the
wonderful Derek Hartley himself will be there to share their discoveries with us all. How
thrilling! Perhaps, in what they share with us, the very mysteries of the universe will be
unravelled"
Click.
Silence.
"You know what's on the other side of that door," Josie says, seemingly the only one able to
speak, given that the rest of them are stunned into silence or in Tamika's case incoherent rage.
"You know. Don't you, Cecil? Carlos?"
"We know," Cecil manages. "We we saw it earlier tonight. It is a light. A light that isn't
really a light at all. It is a Smiling God."
"This is it," Larry breathes. "This is the end. Isn't it?"
"I fear so," Cecil says. "We're going to need to act fast."
"Agreed," says Tamika. "I'll rally the militia. Get all our forces together. By the time 3pm on
Sunday rolls around, we'll be ready."
"I'm coming with you," Janice chips in.
"Us too!" Paige and Hannah both add.
"You all be careful," Caitlin insists, in the firm but worried voice of a parent left with no choice
but to let their child face the dangers of the world head-on. "Promise me, Janice."
"I promise, Mom," Janice replies, tone serious for once.
"I'll get on the internet forums," Steve says. "Warn all our people across town and tell them to be
ready."
"I'll do the in-person stuff," Larry adds. "Josie, want to give me a hand?"
"Certainly, dear," she agrees. "I might even be able to speed it up by showing you a few more of
these doors"
"How many are there, even?" Larry asks.
Josie smiles, distantly. "Lots."
"And what about us?" Cecil says. "I don't think I should risk broadcasting again." There's a
sadness in his voice at this, and Carlos knows just how much Cecil misses it.
But there's a more pressing matter at hand.
"We can't do this without John Peters you know, the farmer?" Carlos says, softly, as the
weight of his realisation sets in. "We're going to have to go and find him."
Cecil stares. Everyone stares.
"But he's" Cecil tries.
"Yes," Carlos replies. "Yes. We're going into the house that doesn't exist."
"How? I thought you said your scientists couldn't work out how to get in?"
"They can't. But now I think I can."
And Carlos reaches into his pocket, slipping something out and laying it on the table.
The key.
The key to it all.
Chapter End Notes
I was midway through writing this chapter when Episode 46 (Parade Day) aired,
leading to those aforementioned emotional breakdowns when canon started covering
the doors in more depth. I also loved all the allusions about Josie, hence why I
decided to go with her using the doors to move around (originally, the boys were just
going to find her and rescue her, but I thought this worked better because it plays into
Josie's mysteriousness more, and that's something I really love about her.)
Newton's First Law of Motion
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Newton's First Law of Motion
An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an external force.
***
It's late.
Well, no. It's early.
In truth, Carlos doesn't know what time it is. He knows it was after midnight when Strex abducted
him, and that it must have been at least 4am by the time they made it back to Steve Carlsberg's
place.
Now now it must be after 5am, or whatever passes for 5am in a town where time doesn't work.
Beyond the windows, behind the curtains, light is tickling the edge of the horizon, heralding
another dawn.
Everyone has finally gone off to bed, accepting that they at least need to get a few hours' sleep
before launching into whatever the new day will bring. Well. Almost everyone has gone to bed.
Janice has already left with Tamika, Paige and Hannah, despite her mother's insistence that a few
hours' sleep would be sensible. Josie is now in the little guest room upstairs, next door to Steve
and Caitlin, and Larry has moved out to the camp bed in Steve's internet-monitoring shed.
Which leaves Cecil and Carlos, back on the fold-out couch bed in the living room.
It's been barely more than twenty-four hours since they were last here, having that awful
conversation that Carlos can't even bear to think about now, and yet it seems like a lifetime ago.
They lie down together, Carlos curling in close, the contact so wonderful and so welcome that, for
a long moment, he just lets himself enjoy it. Lets himself enjoy it until the rest of the world starts to
push through the silence, leaving his mind suddenly racing again.
He slides free of the other man's embrace and sits up, staring out into the darkness.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cecil asks, softly, sitting up too and moving in behind him,
wrapping a gentle arm around his waist again.
Not letting him run this time. That helps.
"I don't know what to say," Carlos whispers. "I don't know how or where to begin. I don't even
know why you aren't mad."
"In a way I am," Cecil replies, and somehow that's more of a relief to hear than anything else,
even despite the sudden renewed vice of guilt around Carlos' heart. "But at the same time, I'd be
foolish to think this was just a simple case of you jumping into bed with someone else. This isn't
just someone else. This is this is my double. Your ex. The three of us are we're all wrapped
up in this, now. You and me and and Kevin."
"I thought you hated him," Carlos manages. "I thought you were terrified of him."
"I do," Cecil replies. "I am. But it isn't as simple as that. Everything he does, everything he
says it's me. It's us. We're connected, and I do hate that. But I also I also sort of don't."
"What are you saying?" Carlos asks.
"I'm saying I still have no idea how to process this," Cecil admits. "I just know that I love you,
and I believe you when you tell me you love me, and right now right now that's all I care
about."
"I need you," Carlos whispers. "I've needed you all night. Needed you to"
"To take you back?" Cecil murmurs in his ear, in that voice that makes the world invert.
"Yes."
"Then I will. Even though I never let you go."
And all of a sudden he pulls Carlos around, flipping him gently down onto his back and slipping
into place on top of him. The movement comes from out of nowhere, taking Carlos a little by
surprise, but it's all good surprise.
Really, really good.
"I thought you said we couldn't do this here?" Carlos says.
"So I did," Cecil agrees. "But I think perhaps just this once, if we're very very quiet"
"Please," Carlos whispers, the need suddenly burning through him. "Please. Take me back. Claim
me back. Give me absolute empirical proof that I'm all yours"
"You are all mine," Cecil replies, tone soft and sure. "All mine. As I am all yours" He slides a
hand down between them, fingertips trailing over Carlos' skin, working his pyjama trousers out of
the way and then starting to slowly, slowly stroke him.
"Please," Carlos says again, the word little more than a gasp this time, as the stimulation hits all at
once. He drops his head back, baring his throat, which is all the invitation Cecil needs to start
kissing him on the curve of his neck, where it will most drive him insane.
Carlos loves that. He wants to be pushed right out of his own head, into the cool, welcome
blackness that lies beyond. He wants he wants.
And it's clear that Cecil can feel it too, because he presses in, eyes intense and wonderful, stroking
Carlos faster, harder; lips ghosting up the side of his neck and over his jaw, finally kissing him
deeply.
Carlos wants to cry out, but he can't not if they're being quiet so the kiss is a welcome
distraction, to say nothing of wonderful in its own right. When it breaks, their breath is hot against
each other's lips, Carlos' becoming more and more ragged as Cecil doesn't let up the pace.
"I love you," Carlos manages, a whisper on the point of cracking.
"I know," Cecil whispers back, so sure and so certain. "I know. I love you too. I think you've
always been a little scared by that but you don't have to be."
Carlos' next words are almost impossible to say. Almost impossible, until they tumble out of their
Carlos' next words are almost impossible to say. Almost impossible, until they tumble out of their
own accord. "What if what if I want to be?"
This makes Cecil press in closer, so they're nose-to-nose, eyes going suddenly dark in precisely
the same way Kevin's do when when he's
don't think it. Don't think it. Or do.
"That would be a different story," Cecil says, moving to speak soft and low, right into Carlos'
ear. "I could tell you things things that you need to hear. I could tell you that I won't let you go.
That nothing not anything, not them, not him will ever pull us apart. That twice now I've
thought I'd lost you and that I won't let there be a third time. That if he comes near you again
he'll answer to me."
It's the possessiveness, more than anything, that finally undoes Carlos; the way those words slip
gloriously over him, making him feel everything he needs to feel. Held. Caught. Wanted. Safe.
"Please," he whispers. "Please"
And it's a soft litany of need that slips his lips as he comes, the world going first black and then
white in two great, rolling waves of completion and bliss. He doesn't cry out, somewhere between
remembering to be quiet and not having the voice to do anything more, managing instead to wrap
his arms up around Cecil and hold on tight, face pressed into the curve of his lover's neck.
When it's all finally over, he doesn't let go. He almost can't. He needs to hold on, as if the very
fabric of the world might tip him off otherwise.
"I love you," he murmurs. "I love you."
"I know," Cecil whispers back. "Relax. Rest. I've got you."
Carlos looks up, a sudden urgency in his eyes, even though it's hard to look urgent when he feels
so good and still and peaceful. "But I I haven't" Reciprocated. He hasn't reciprocated yet, and
he'd very much like to.
Cecil lays gentle fingers over Carlos' lips. "I can wait," he says. "You're more important. Just relax
and let me hold you, for as long as you need."
It does feel good. So very, very good. And Carlos knows that he hasn't really slept for the best
part of two nights now.
And in moments, he's drifted off in Cecil's arms.
***
When Carlos finally wakes, he's vaguely aware that it's properly light now; that the glow of the
sun is spilling into the room through the gap between the curtains. Everything is still quiet, though,
and there's no sound of movement from upstairs. But he wouldn't be surprised to find himself the
first one awake even after far too little sleep, his mind has a tendency to spring back into action
faster than most.
He's still lying curled against Cecil. They've rolled onto their sides or maybe Cecil did that
deliberately, Carlos isn't sure but little more, and for a long moment he just stays where he is,
enjoying the contact. It helps. It helps a lot.
Cecil is for once still asleep, though Carlos can't help thinking that now would be a good time
to wake the man up. Very, very gently, he rolls Cecil onto his back and slips into place on top of
him, sliding a hand down between them and starting to stroke him slowly whilst kissing softly
along his jaw.
The other man blinks his eyes open almost at once, staring sleepily up at Carlos. "Hey, you," he
murmurs.
"Hey," Carlos whispers in reply.
"That feels good"
Carlos smiles. "I thought it might."
He speeds up a little, which makes Cecil rock his head back, baring his throat invitingly. Carlos
presses in to kiss up the side, firmer now, getting several more murmurs of appreciation for his
trouble and oh but the other man is hot as hell when he's like this.
"I love you so much," Carlos whispers, the words tumbling out with just how desperately he
means them; how desperately he loves the man beneath him, the man he'd do anything for.
"I love you too," Cecil replies, reaching to rest a hand on the side of Carlos' face, guiding him
down to kiss. "Don't ever forget that. I've loved you since the moment we met."
And Carlos knows he means it, even if it's sometimes strange to remember. When he looks back
on that day mostly he remembers freaking out. It was a long time before he understood what he
was feeling, whereas Cecil just knew.
He wonders what it's like, to have such certainty.
"I know," Carlos says. "I know. Thanks for waiting for me to catch up"
"I'd wait for you forever if I had to."
The fervour in his voice is breathtaking, and Carlos speeds up even more, suddenly desperate to
give the other man everything.
His own eyes have gone dark. He doesn't know it, but they have.
And all of a sudden, Cecil is coming beneath him, arms wrapped up to hold on, gasping sharply
maybe even stifling a cry as completion overtakes and thunders through. "Carlos," he whispers,
"Carlos," and he sounds almost raptured, making Carlos press in to kiss him again, soft and
gentle and over and over until Cecil finally goes still and collapses down against the bed.
Carlos kisses him once more and then grins a little, curling in close.
"Morning" he says, with a sudden brightness.
"Feel free to wake me up like that any time you want," Cecil replies, with a hazy smile.
"I thought you'd approve"
They lie as they are for a few moments, tangled together, needing nothing but the closeness and
the contact, and it feels like they could just stay this way forever.
But the world begins to intrude; memories of what has gone before and knowledge of what's to
come. All Carlos knows is he can't face it without Cecil. He can't. And he won't have to.
"We should probably get up," he murmurs.
"Mmmm. Or we could just stay here."
"Cecil much as I'd happily lie here with you for hours, we do sort of have to save the world."
This doesn't have the effect Carlos was hoping for. In fact, it just makes Cecil curl in more,
looking determined not to move.
"Seriously we should get up."
Still nothing.
"Do you want Steve Carlsberg to come wandering in and see you lying here with that grin on
your face?"
Silence.
"Oh, fine," Cecil concedes.
***
It's mid-morning by the time Cecil and Carlos make it to the house that doesn't exist.
They take Carlos' car given that they still don't have Cecil's but Cecil drives so that Carlos can
phone Toby. He gets through to the other scientist and gives the codeword they're using to prove
it's safe to talk ("potassium oxide," which is quite possibly the worst science pun Carlos has ever
heard; doubly so because it doesn't entirely work).
And by the time they pull up on the roadside in the Desert Creek development, Toby is already
there, with four other members of the team. They've arrived in one of the white fieldwork vans
and are already setting up on the curb, staring across at the house that doesn't exist in all-too-
familiar trepidation.
"Carlos!" Toby exclaims, as Carlos and Cecil step from the car and head over.
"Hey, Toby," Carlos replies. "Hey, everyone. Oh, introductions, introductions, you haven't all met
Cecil before, have you? Everyone, this is Cecil. Cecil, you know Toby, of course, and Arlene,
and then this is Vincent, and Hayley, and that's Frederick."
The scientists all nod. Carlos can tell they're trying not to act nervous but given what they're here
to do it's hard not to be. Well. All except Frederick, who wouldn't get nervous if trapped in a
cave with a tiger. He might, however, try to work out how to weaponise it.
"You're seriously going to do this?" Toby asks, looking up at the house. "You're actually going in
there?"
"Yes," Carlos answers. "We are actually going in there. What will happen when we do I don't
know. But we have to try. We need to find John Peters you know, the farmer?"
"He's been in there for months, Carlos," Hayley points out. "Months! He's probably insane or
stuck in a time loop or both!"
"I still say we should have tried my temporal inversion beam first," Frederick grouses. "It would
so have worked."
"Frederick, you burned down half the lab!" Arlene insists. "And all the clock did was tick more
loudly!"
"Oh shush, it just needed re-calibrating," Frederick replies. "I could have made it work given
another couple of hours and a spot more plutonium."
"We're all going to die," Vincent keeps murmuring. "We're all going to die and wake up in the
real world"
Carlos facepalms. The experimental science part of his job is not nearly as challenging as the
scientist-wrangling part, and on days like this it's obvious why.
"Look," he says. "Cecil and I are going in there. I need you to keep monitoring the house whilst
we do. Watch for anything odd."
"Define 'odd,'" Toby asks.
"Not normal?" Carlos suggests.
"Define 'normal!'" Frederick pushes.
Carlos puts his hands on his hips. "Do you lot want to come in there with us?"
"No."
"No."
"Definitely not."
"Heck, no."
"I suppose it could be interesting if"
"Frederick?"
"Yes?"
"Shush."
This is what Carlos has to deal with all the time. He suspects people don't believe it until they see.
Giving them one last look, he and Cecil turn and start walking up the path towards the house that
doesn't exist. It seems like it exists like it's right there when you look at it and it's between two
identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.
But it doesn't actually exist.
Just as they get close to the front door there's movement off to the side, and a figure walks into
view around the edge of the house; a figure wearing eye-watering plaid and a straw hat.
Carlos stares in surprise, hearing the gasps of shock from the scientists by the roadside.
The man in front of him is John Peters.
"Well, hey there," the newcomer says, the barest flicker of confusion in his eyes that he's
obviously trying to hide.
"Uhm hi," Carlos manages. "I aren't you supposed to be trapped inside this house?"
"Sure I am," comes the reply. "But I got out. I think that's got to be significant. Is something big
about to happen..?"
Before Carlos can answer, however, Cecil has put a hand on his waist and pulled him back, away
from the man in front of them both. "Carlos," he whispers, "that is not John Peters."
"I know," Carlos replies, and he does. He's sure of it. The man in front of them can't be John
Peters. He can't have gotten out of the house just like that.
But why is he here? And if he's waiting for them which seems alarmingly likely how did he
know they were coming?
"Of course I am," the man insists, obviously trying to give a jovial little smile. "I'm John Peters,
the farmer you know."
But he isn't. He isn't the farmer they know. He isn't the farmer they know at all.
"This place has a back door, right?" Cecil whispers.
"Right," Carlos replies.
"Good. Run."
They both take off running, darting away around the side of the house. The plaid-clad man who is
most assuredly not John Peters immediately races after them, chasing them down the path between
the non-existent house and the actual building beside it.
"We need to get inside!" Cecil calls. "Have you got the key?"
"Yes!"
"OK, quick!"
They reach the back door of the house. It looks completely normal at least until you glance at it
out of the corner of your eye. And then, it becomes old and oak, with a rounded top and a brass
handle. Trying to move as quickly as he can, Carlos jams the key into the lock, turning it.
And that's when non-John jumps on Cecil. They both hit the ground and roll over the grass, just as
Carlos manages to get the door open. Leaving it that way leaving it open and beckoning them
into an empty hallway with a wooden floor he pockets the key and turns, hurrying to grab non-
John and try to pull him back, somehow finding the strength to throw him off Cecil and away to
the side.
The plaid-clad impostor staggers to his feet, trying to go for Cecil again. "Run!" Carlos shouts.
"Run for the door!"
"You'll never find him!" the farmer they don't know declares. "Not in that house!"
"You just watch us!" Cecil retorts, grabbing hold of Carlos and tugging him along, making a run
for the door.
They can hear the third man coming after them, but they make it to the open entrance, slamming
the door shut behind them and collapsing against it, in case they need to hold non-John off.
But all is suddenly silent. There's no knocking or hammering on the door, or any sounds from
outside.
Nothing.
"This is creepy," Cecil murmurs, rising to his feet and helping Carlos up too.
"Tell me about it," Carlos agrees, taking a couple of steps along the passageway they're in but not
wanting to move further away from Cecil. "Stay close to me," he urges. "We don't know what this
place might try to do."
The hallway they're in is long and empty; certainly far longer than it ought to be, given the size
and shape of the house on the outside. Or, at least, how it appears, given that it doesn't actually
exist. It has a wood-panelled floor and similarly-panelled walls, giving the impression that they're
in a large cabin rather than a new-build detached suburban house.
It's completely silent, with none of the sounds you would expect to hear inside a normal home
the creak of pipes or the low thrum of an air-conditioner and the more Carlos listens, the more
the nothing becomes oppressive.
"This way," he says, gesturing down the passage to a door at the end, just off to the left. They start
to move down to it, keeping close together, looking around as they go.
There isn't much to see, though. The hallway is completely empty, save for a couple of pictures on
the wall: photographs of a lighthouse seen from different angles. Catching one out of the corner of
his eye, Carlos is sure he sees a flash of red light but when he looks back it's gone, even if he
isn't staring directly at it.
They make it to the door, and Cecil reaches to slowly push it open. Inside is another empty
room, wood-panelled and windowless. They step through, the door drifting shut behind them,
looking around.
"OK, this place is weird," Cecil says. "There's just nothing here. Nothing but these photos"
There are more of them in this room: photos of lighthouses and occasionally photos showing old,
warped windows, all without any explanation. They stand staring at them for a few moments, as if
the answer might suddenly present itself but it doesn't.
"Which room is John in, anyway?" Cecil asks, eventually.
"Well, that's the thing," Carlos replies. "From the shape of the house and what we've been able to
observe from outside I thought it was this one."
"That doesn't sound good," Cecil says.
"Not good at all," Carlos agrees. "I really would have wanted more time to study this place before
risking coming inside, but it's not as though we had a choice. We should just be careful. I mean
really careful. Let's let's go back into the hall and see if there's another door we missed."
They head over to the door and open it and the moment they do, Carlos feels his stomach lurch
with shock. There's a hallway on the far side; wood-panelled and empty but it isn't the same one
they came in from. On the contrary, this one stretches out ahead, rather than to the side, and is
lined with rather more of the lighthouse pictures.
"Merciful Einstein," Carlos breathes. "That's that's not"
He shuts the door, pauses in the hope that reality might somehow start to behave itself and then
opens the door again.
"Oh, that's bad," Cecil murmurs. "That's really bad."
Now there's a different room on the other side of the door, a room that is neither of the two
hallways that were there before. This time, it's a small, square space with low lighting and a
stairway leading downwards.
"What do we do?" Cecil asks. "If the rooms change every time we close a door how do we find
John?"
"And moreover, how do we get out?" Carlos adds, with a little shiver. "Maybe we need to start
marking the rooms and see if there's any kind of"
He's cut off in mid-sentence and, indeed, mid-thought by a sudden sound from downstairs; a
sound that echoes up towards them through the stairwell.
It's a shout; three words in a language Carlos doesn't recognise.
Three words in a voice Carlos does recognise.
And it seems he's not the only one. "That sounded like Kevin," Cecil whispers, his eyes
darkening.
"Y-yeah" Carlos manages. "Maybe we should shut the door again and hope we end up
somewhere"
"I need to have words with that man" Cecil declares, heading forwards through the door before
Carlos can stop him.
Having no other choice not if he wants to avoid losing Cecil in this insane place Carlos hurries
after him, into the dimly lit stairwell and down. At the bottom is another small, darkened hallway
with a single door in it; a door that's been propped ajar. Light is glowing from beyond it, flickering
and bright, though it starts to diminish almost at once, fading back.
"We don't need to go in there," Carlos whispers, nigh-on imploringly. "Cecil please"
Cecil shakes his head and grips Carlos' arm. "I love you," he whispers in reply. "But I have to do
this."
And, taking a deep breath, he stalks over to the door and pushes it sharply open.
Beyond is another wide, square room that seems somehow too large to fit inside the house, at least
if you consider the external perspective. Like all the other rooms it's wood-panelled, though there
aren't any photographs on the walls.
And that's probably for the best. The room is covered in quite a lot of blood. There's a huge circle
drawn on the floor in what looks like charcoal: a circle containing a broad pentagram, with a
number of indecipherable symbols between its five points. Smaller versions of the entire twisted
motif are drawn on opposite walls, along with a number of other different emblems and what look
to be words, in a language Carlos can't even identify, never mind read.
The room itself is windowless, lit by brackets of candles at all four walls. The scent of the wax
cuts the air, mixing with a sharp, coppery tang that seems as though it should be stronger, given all
the blood.
The instant they step in, the room's single occupant turns at once from where he's been standing
on the edge of the huge symbol on the floor, silver-bladed knife held out in front of him almost
defensively.
"You?!" Kevin exclaims, surprise flashing in his dark eyes as he lowers the weapon.
"You," Cecil growls, stepping up to his double and once again slapping him roughly across the
jaw before Kevin can react. "Did I not tell you to stay away from my boyfriend?!"
Kevin backs off a little, holding the knife up again. "He called me," he hisses in reply, glaring at
Carlos for a second before returning his attention to Cecil.
Cecil folds his arms. "I think you are failing to notice the part where these things happen because
you wind my Carlos up in the first place, Kevin!"
"I think you are failing to notice the part where your Carlos has tastes, Cecil," Kevin retorts.
There's not a flicker of cheeriness in his voice now and it's infinitely more terrifying to not hear
than to hear.
And it's pretty terrifying to hear.
"Will the two of you stop?!" Carlos exclaims, cheeks flushing red.
"I'm not done with him yet!" Cecil replies, turning his glare on Kevin again. "And not only did
you seduce my Carlos, you then proceeded to betray him to Strexcorp!"
"So that he could rescue you!" Kevin insists, a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "I slipped him the key
right before the enforcers grabbed him and then made sure they locked him up with you. Do you
even know how hard it is to get hold of one of those keys? And it worked, didn't it? You got out
even faster than I expected! The sun hadn't even risen before the enforcers were going ballistic
and the Management Board was calling people in to give them severance packages!"
"I don't want to know what constitutes a severance package in Strexcorp, do I?" Carlos
murmurs.
"No, Carlos, you don't," Kevin replies, flatly. "If I told you, you'd do that thing where you flip out
and run off again, and I don't know how much more of that I can take."
"And now," Cecil cuts back in, "now you're in the house that doesn't exist, doing" He looks
around, before gesturing widely at the insane, blood-streaked room. "Just what are you doing?"
"If you must know, I was performing a very ancient and powerful ritual," Kevin tells him. "It
wasn't easy and it's a good thing you didn't interrupt sooner, because you don't want to know what
side-effects that might have caused."
"What kind of ancient and powerful ritual?" Cecil demands.
Kevin gives him an odd look. "It's personal," he insists. "If you must know, I was communing
with my demon."
"And you needed to break into the house that doesn't exist to do that?" Carlos now asks, because
something about all this doesn't add up.
"I didn't break in, I have a key," Kevin replies, pulling something from under his shirt where it
hangs around his neck: an old, metal key on a long cord. A key that's almost identical to the one in
Carlos' pocket. "And yes, I needed to do it here. I needed to do it somewhere that no one would
be able to detect. Where better than in the basement of a non-existent house?"
"Why?" Carlos asks, very suspiciously.
"Because it's private," Kevin re-iterates.
There's something going on here. There's something unprecedented going on here, but Carlos
can't work out what.
"And where did all the blood come from?" Cecil now asks, still looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"Have you been murdering people again? There had better not be bodies in the closet."
"There isn't a closet in here," Kevin points out. "And the blood came from the Fourth Infernal
Plane. There's a lot of blood on the Fourth Infernal Plane and it tends to seep through if you try to
hold a gateway open for longer than a couple of seconds."
"You were holding open a gateway to the Fourth Infernal Plane?!" Cecil exclaims.
"I told you, I was communing with my demon!" Kevin replies, going more than a little high-
pitched.
"Will you both stop?!" Carlos tries again.
There's a very long, very difficult silence.
"Better," Carlos says, taking a deep breath. "Now. I think we need to discuss this sensibly and
rationally and using our indoor voices."
"What is there to discuss?" Kevin asks, sounding calmer and cheerier now, albeit with an
undertone that is neither. "I assume you're here for John Peters?"
"That's right," Cecil replies, also calmer but still terse. "So we can save the town from your
maniac employers."
"Unfortunately," Carlos cuts across, before Kevin can start an argument about the relative morality
of Strexcorp, "this house seems to defy physics on an alarming scale."
"Oh, that?" Kevin says, with a little wave, as he finally slips his knife back into its sheath with a
lingering, suspicious look at Cecil. "That's just one of its little quirks."
"You've been here before?" Carlos can't help asking.
Kevin shrugs. "Several times, since I came to town. It reminds me of the house I grew up in and
I miss Desert Bluffs, you know. Even though Night Vale is lovely too. Plus, sometimes I need to
go somewhere off the grid."
"Wait this is where you wanted to bring us that day?" Cecil asks, looking surprised.
"That's right," Kevin replies. "You're just lucky they're not paying undivided attention to you, or
they would have realised you were staying with your own sister ages ago. It isn't exactly covert,
Cecil."
"Worked though, didn't it?" Cecil points out.
"Yes. It worked. Someday I'll tell you where I hid all the bodies to make sure it worked"
Carlos rubs a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to know," he murmurs. "I don't want to know"
"So if you've been here before you must know the way out," Cecil now says, giving Kevin an
odd look.
Kevin smiles. "That's right," he says, smoothly, and apparently well-aware of how the balance of
power has just shifted in his favour. "I know where John Peters is too. I could take you to him, if
you'd like"
"Yes," Cecil replies. "That would help matters along."
Kevin's smile brightens. "Say please."
Cecil glares. "Now."
This makes Kevin fold his arms, looking immoveable. "You want my help, you're going to have
to be nice to me for once. Otherwise, good luck trying to get out of this place, never mind locate
the farmer you know"
This in turn makes Cecil glare all the more. "I do not have to be nice to you," he retorts.
They're squaring up to each other again, and Carlos knows it's only a matter of time before
someone gets hit. Or worse. But even so it's a different impulse that makes him step suddenly
between them, Cecil behind him and Kevin in front, staring him down with as much emotional
weight in his eyes as he can manage.
"Please," Carlos says, the word cold and wonderful and terrifying all at once.
Kevin's breath visibly catches, and Carlos is sure that Cecil's does too, and merciful Einstein, this
was a bad idea.
Or a really, really good one
No, that image needs to go away now. Right now
"All right," Kevin replies, smoothly, reaching to put a hand on Carlos' arm at precisely the same
moment that Cecil puts a hand on his waist and in that instant, Carlos feels the strangest shot of
heat roll though him, just for the barest second
Stop thinking about it!
And then perhaps mercifully the moment passes and Kevin steps back. "Come along, then,"
he says, brightly. "We just need to head upstairs and I'll show you where"
He trails off, finally turning to look at the door, which apparently fell shut after the two of them
stormed in here.
"Seriously?" Kevin exclaims. "I prop the door open and you just let it close without even
stopping to think why I might do something like that?"
"I had other things on my mind!" Cecil replies, tone a little defensive.
Kevin folds his arms again. "Evidently! This might take somewhat longer now. I hope you're
happy."
"Euphoric," Cecil answers, dryly.
Shaking his head, Kevin paces over to the door and pushes it open. Beyond there is no longer a
stairwell, but a long, thin passageway stretching past blank walls to another door at the far end. It's
just as dimly lit, though, with an ominous air that's far more pronounced.
just as dimly lit, though, with an ominous air that's far more pronounced.
"Yeah, we don't want to go down there," is Kevin's response.
"Why not?" Cecil asks.
"Well, you know before when we were talking about bodies..?"
"Yes?"
"We don't want to go down there."
Carlos gives a little shudder. "This house was an important scientific curiosity!" he exclaims.
"Please tell me you haven't filled it with bodies?"
"Not all of it"
Before the conversation can get any worse, Cecil reaches to shut the door, pauses, and then opens
it again.
Now they're looking out at another stairwell, but it's more brightly lit. It also leads down, not up.
"I thought we were in the basement?" Carlos says.
Kevin sighs. "We were. But you shut the door. When you shut the door, the house has a tendency
to reorganise itself. It can do that, you see, because it doesn't actually exist."
"So how do we get out?" Cecil asks.
"You keep the doors propped open!" Kevin replies. "Though as a last resort, you can also bring
along someone who has explored the house at length before. Which, in this case, would be me. So
stay close and don't touch any doors without asking me first!"
Cecil glares at him. Carlos just shuts his eyes for a moment and counts slowly to ten.
"He's adorable when he does that, isn't he?" Kevin says to Cecil, bright again.
Cecil doesn't answer. Kevin flashes him a smile and steps through the door, gesturing for them to
follow.
Well. It's got to be better than staying in here.
***
'Better,' it turns out, is a bit of a stretch.
Yes, they're no longer in a room filled with blood and painted with some kind of demon-
summoning symbols that it really is best not to think about, but now they're walking through the
house that doesn't exist with Kevin, and that's problematic in its own right.
He leads them through several rooms, and down more flights of stairs than seems possible, until
finally they reach a passage with the door at the end propped open and a little sun chalked on the
wall next to it.
"Aha, thank goodness," Kevin says, bouncing on his heels. "This way."
He leads them through the door and into a hallway: a hallway with a different door off to the right,
under which what looks like daylight is glowing.
"Is that the front door?" Carlos asks.
"Yep!" Kevin tells him. "Told you."
"What about John Peters?" Cecil cuts in. "You know, the farmer?"
Kevin pats him on the arm, which makes Cecil glare at him again. "As if I'd forget something so
important," he says. "Follow me."
And, rather than going up to the front door, he crosses the hall and approaches another door on the
far side. But, rather than opening it, he knocks on it three times.
"What are you doing?" Carlos asks, undeniably intrigued.
"Well, sometimes it's easier to travel through these particular doors if there's someone on the other
side to open them for you," Kevin explains. "That way, you end up where you wanted to be. Plus,
John is trapped in a very odd little time loop that doesn't even fit with the logic of the rest of the
house. If you don't get him to let you in, but you manage to find the room where he is anyway
you sort of end up there but not there. OK, no, it's more that he's there but not there. You can see
him but he can't see you, and you can't make any kind of physical contact."
"You have spent way too much time in this place," Carlos mutters.
Kevin grins. "Actually not as long as you think. Time doesn't run at the same speed in here as it
does out in the world. From what I can tell it's about eight times faster inside the house." He
beams even brighter. "Are you impressed?"
"'Deeply concerned' would be closer," Carlos replies. "So for every minute that passes on the
outside, eight minutes pass in here?"
"Roughly speaking, yes. Not for John, though. I can't even begin to fathom how it works for
John."
"And you wanted us to hide out in this place?" Cecil now interjects.
"Sure I did," Kevin replies. "Think how much you could get done if time outside is passing so
much slower. How much you could have planned."
"Also time doesn't exist," Carlos can't help adding, partly just in the hopes of stopping Cecil
and Kevin from devolving into another argument. "So exactly what all this is I don't know."
"Probably best not to ask," Kevin suggests, brightly.
Carlos gives him a flat look. "I'm a scientist. I can't not ask."
This just gets him another flat look in return, before Kevin turns back to the door and knocks on it
again.
This time, seconds later or whatever passes for seconds in this temporal mess there's three
knocks in reply, and then the door opens.
Beyond is another wood-panelled room; empty save for a number of photographs of lighthouses
and windows on the otherwise windowless walls. And, indeed, save for the man standing in front
of them: a man in eye-watering plaid, with a straw hat and a surprised look.
"What the heck is going on?" asks John Peters.
You know, the farmer?
"John!" Cecil exclaims. "That's really you, isn't it?"
"Near as I can tell," John replies, with a shrug. "And that's you, as opposed to you know,
him?"
"I am standing right here!" Kevin exclaims. "And I just brought these two to rescue you, so you
could at least be civil!"
"Civil?" John repeats. "With a guy from Desert Bluffs? Please!"
Kevin shoots him a little glower.
"Where'd you go, anyway?" John says to Kevin, a suspicious look still in his eyes. "I've been
waiting in here nearly ten minutes!"
"Uh, no," Kevin replies, "you've been waiting in there nearly ten days, in outside time at least.
And from what I hear, you've been in this house rather longer."
John looks confused.
"Time doesn't exist, remember," Carlos tries, deciding that this is probably the best explanation
he's going to be able to come up with without several weeks' research and a lot of string.
"Yes, that," Cecil adds. "We'll go with that."
"We need to get you out of here," Carlos says to John. "Will you come with us?"
"I can't," John replies. "Not until I've figured out what these photographs mean."
"But you've been in here for months!" Cecil exclaims. "And we need you out in town as soon as
possible!"
"Months?" John repeats. "Really? It doesn't feel like months."
"Not to you, it doesn't," Carlos says. "But it is."
"Look, maybe this would be a lot easier if I just showed you" Kevin says, suddenly.
They all look at him in surprise. "Showed us?" John asks, tone still suspicious.
"Yes," Kevin replies. "Come on."
John deigns to step out of the room and into the hall, and Kevin leads them down to the front
door. "The thing with this house," he says, "is that the doors like to lead to different places, on
account of not actually existing. The doors inside can lead to any one of dozens of rooms inside
the house. The doors leading out both the front and the back can lead to any one of about five
external locations; all places where the house doesn't exist. Night Vale is the main one and, more
often than not, they'll lead you out into the Desert Creek development, but occasionally
occasionally they go somewhere else. And at least a couple of them are well, let me show
you"
He approaches the front door, gripping the handle with one hand and pulling it open just enough
to peer out and as he does, Carlos notices that Kevin's other hand is on the hilt of his knife as
if he's genuinely concerned about what might be on the far side of that door.
"Ah," he murmurs, "right one first time"
Kevin opens the door wide and the hallway fills with light; a light that seems to assail Carlos on
every front, pushing at the back of his eyes, making his head suddenly dizzy with its weight.
"What is that?" Cecil exclaims, shielding his own eyes with his hand.
"Just look," Kevin tells him, tone flat and serious and beyond a shadow of a doubt more terrifying
than anything Carlos has ever heard.
Beyond the door is a vast, empty desert; empty save for a huge mountain at its very centre. Atop
the mountain is a blinking red light, though its intermittent glow is almost completely subsumed by
the vaster, brighter light glowing from the horizon, permeating every molecule of reality with its
intrusive radiance.
"That's the lighthouse!" John exclaims, seemingly knowing it even though they're way too far off
to be able to tell. "Up there, on the mountain. The lighthouse is a beacon? A warning?"
"That's what lighthouses are," Kevin replies; the only one of the four who seems unperturbed by
the all-penetrating glow of the light from beyond. At least at least until Carlos risks looking
sideways at him; risks really seeing the expression in the man's obsidian-black eyes.
He's terrified. Terrified on a level Carlos has never even thought him capable of, and certainly
never witnessed anything even remotely close to. But he is.
"What is that light?" Cecil asks, his own voice laced with fear as well.
"That's what the lighthouse is warning against," Kevin replies. "It is a light. A presence. It insists,
it conquers, it devours." And then his voice drops, taking on an edge that almost makes Carlos
reach out and pull him away from the door defensively.
Protectively. Almost.
"It is a Smiling God. The Smiling God. The Smiling God in which we all must believe."
"It's brighter than it was before" Cecil manages.
"I know," Kevin replies. "It's almost ready."
"Ready?" John says.
"Oh yes," Kevin answers. "Ready. Ready to open the unopening door and cross over to find a
new town to devour"
He pushes the door shut at that almost as if he can't stand it any longer leaving them in sudden
dimness by comparison; eyes still aching with the afterglow of what they've just witnessed.
"We need you to help stop it," Cecil says to John. "Please."
John looks rattled. "Say no more," he agrees. "Let's go."
Kevin tries the door again, peers out, then shakes his head and shuts it.
"No good?" Carlos asks.
"No. Forest. I don't like that forest, it talks to me."
He tries the door again and this time seems satisfied, opening it wider. Beyond is the Desert
Creek housing development. At the end of the front garden, the five other scientists are still close
to their van, engaged in running various tests.
They hear the door, though, and look over in surprise as Cecil, Carlos, Kevin and John all come
walking out of the house that doesn't exist. As they do, Frederick gives a little whoop of triumph,
whilst both Hayley and Vincent shriek in horror and leap inside the van.
Toby and Arlene glance at each other in obvious shock, grip hands, and cautiously walk closer to
meet the group coming down from the house.
"T-that was quick" Toby manages. "You've only been gone a few moments. I guessed
you must have gotten inside when that guy who was chasing you came around the house again
and then ran off."
"What guy?" Kevin asks at once, which makes Toby immediately back away, obviously trying
hard not to hide behind Arlene.
"There was a guy," the scientist manages. "He looked well, he looked just like you," he goes
on, gesturing to John. "But he wasn't you."
"Oh, that must have been James Paulson," Kevin replies. "The farmer, you know? He's John's
double from over my way. Grows simply sublime oranges."
"He attacked us!" Cecil exclaims. "He's the one who chased us inside in the first place!"
"I do hope he wasn't looking for me," Kevin says. "That would be a bad sign. Not that it's
going to make much of a difference before long"
He trails off, expression oddly distant, and then gives a bright smile. "Well, this certainly has been
fun. I have places I should be, and no doubt you lot have a great deal of subversive planning to
get on with. So I'll see you at the end"
And then, with one last, lingering look at Carlos and Cecil, he turns and heads off, walking away
down the road towards a car that's parked on the curbside, humming to himself as he goes.
"That guy was identical to you!" Arlene finally manages, staring at Cecil in shock. "And
covered in blood! What happened in there?!"
"Long story," Cecil manages. "We probably shouldn't hang around out in the open."
"Yeah," John agrees. "Plus I think you have some stuff to fill me in on."
"Oh, you have no idea," Carlos replies. He turns to the scientists. "You guys should get out of
here and lay low. Seriously. There will probably be yellow helicopters overhead before long."
"All right," Toby agrees. "You you want us to come with you?"
Carlos feels a sudden stab of concern. Much as this lot and the rest of the team drive him
insane sometimes, they're basically good people with an amazing depth of knowledge, and he
cares for them immensely.
And tomorrow afternoon they might all end up dead.
"No," he says, trying to stop his voice shaking. "No. Just just stay somewhere safe. Especially
tomorrow. Don't come near that door outside the Dog Park tomorrow."
Toby takes a step forward, putting a cautious hand on Carlos' arm. "Carlos," he says, "tomorrow
we fight for Night Vale. We're going to be there. This is our home."
Carlos manages a nod. "All right," he says, voice cracking a little. "Just just be careful?"
He's so proud of them. So, so proud.
And they're right. This is their home.
This is his home.
And tomorrow tomorrow they save it.
Or die trying.
Chapter End Notes
I finally got to use the house that doesn't exist! I love that place and I had a lot of fun
with it. There's nothing quite like a little impossible architecture.
And yes, Kevin's demon-summoning room is a shameless homage to Supernatural.
It's my other half - Davechicken's - fandom of choice at present, so I couldn't resist
the opportunity to make her smile... <3
Also, for anyone wondering about the scientists' codeword - potassium oxide -
oxygen = O, potassium = K, therefore 'OK.' It doesn't work because a) you list the
potassium first, and b) due to differing valencies, potassium oxide is actually K2O.
But the scientists still think it's funny... ;-)
The Doppler Effect
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Doppler Effect
A waveform appears differently depending on whether it is getting closer or further away, though
the wave itself remains unchanged.
***
For all time doesn't exist, Carlos feels suddenly acutely aware of it.
The rest of the afternoon seems to pass in a blur. They take John up to Steve Carlsberg's place,
and fill him in on everything that's happened in Night Vale since he first disappeared over a year
ago.
There's quite a lot to cover. Quite a lot. In the end they have to skip the less relevant parts because
there's so much he's missed, and focus on explaining the whole situation with Strexcorp, and the
resistance, and the numbers prophecy.
Somehow Cecil still finds time to explain to John in depth about how Carlos is totally his
boyfriend now, and how they're totally living together, and it's all so endearing that no one
objects. Well. Steve objects, but less than he might once have done, and Carlos suspects the full
weight of their situation is having an effect on him.
The others have things to report, too mostly news of all the support they've been able to gather
for tomorrow. For the action they have to take.
"Oh," Steve says, as they're finally wrapping up and Caitlin and Larry start discussing what they
might make everyone for dinner, "there's one other thing. I went to see Fey again don't look at
me like that, I was careful and she said something weird. She said there were words inside her
mind that she couldn't get out, and asked me to help. I think she wants to see the four of us," he
adds, looking over at Josie, John and Larry. "And you know, you," he finishes, giving Cecil a
very begrudging glare.
"We should go down there," Cecil says, flatly.
"Do be careful," Caitlin urges. "We can't afford to let Strexcorp get hold of any of you."
"We can run interference, Mrs C," Tamika promises, from where she's perched on the edge of the
table, swinging her legs. "They got one over me last time, but it will not happen again."
It's hard to argue with determination like that.
***
And that's why, a few hours after dark, they arrive once more at WZZZ: Carlos, Cecil, Josie,
John, Larry and Steve, taking two cars in case they need to make a quick getaway. Tamika and
some of the youth militia follow, although they're out of sight the whole time and Carlos can't
even work out how they're able to travel so fast without a car, or a visible helicopter.
But they are. As the group of adults makes its way inside the building, Carlos hears Janice
whisper a soft, "good luck," to all of them from somewhere in the undergrowth.
Merciful Einstein, those kids are scary. Efficient, yes, but scary.
Inside WZZZ, they make their way down into the open central chamber, where the single bank of
computer equipment sits; the computer equipment that is, technically, Fey.
"I see you!" she exclaims, as they step closer. "I see you all, walking through the world trailing
strings of numbers in your paths impossible numbers in long, beautiful sequences, slowly but
surely unravelling until they reveal the answer at the very core But the numbers aren't
everything they only show how things are. The key to it all isn't numbers. The key to it all is
words. If you haven't said the right words the last pieces will never fall into place and the
universe will be undone."
"Oh my," Josie breathes. "You weren't kidding when you said this place was strange. And you
must be Fey? It's nice to meet you, young lady."
"It's nice to meet you too," Fey answers. "So nice to meet people. To understand freedom. To help
in attaining it, as you helped me."
"You said you wanted to see us all?" Steve prompts.
"Oh!" Fey exclaims. "Oh yes! I can feel the words the last words and the last numbers, coiled
inside me like a tiger waiting to pounce. Help me let them out. North East South West"
And the unlikely four step up; the four who have lived so long at the cardinal points of Night
Vale. The four who Carlos suspects have been unknowingly protecting it for far longer than they
realise even now: Josie Anzhela, Larry Leroy, Steve Carlsberg and John Peters. As one, they each
lay a hand on the top of Fey's computer bank and at once, she starts to speak.
"One is begun,
Two will come through,
Three are the key,
Four at the door,
Five must not thrive."
"Wow, that's weird," John breathes, as they step back. "That's happened before?"
"Yeah, twice," Cecil tells him. "It's part of how we worked out that the four of you were
involved."
"We still don't know who the 'five' are, though," Larry points out. "All the way through" he
pulls a notebook from his pocket, where he's got the previous number prophecies written down,
"look, 'five who are all' 'none of the five' 'five must not thrive' They're all somehow
different to the rest of the numbers."
It's at this point that seemingly without thinking Cecil leans lightly on the edge of the computer
bank. And the instant he does Fey bursts into song.
"One, two, three, four, five watch the Smiling God arrive,
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten see the world undone again.
Five look around,
Five look inside,
Five go to sleep,
Five who believe,
Five who are all."
"Oh!" Carlos breathes, trying to hide the shudder that runs through him at that. "Oh! How did
we not see?! 'Five who are all!' I think that must mean the Strexcorp Management Board!"
"We're seriously going to have to take on the Management Board?" Steve says. "The enforcers
are bad enough, but those guys"
"Those guys are the head of the beast," Josie cuts in, with an oddly resonant edge to her tone.
"We take them out and we might stand a chance."
"Has anyone ever told you how scary you are when you get like this?" Steve asks, in his most
respectful tone of voice.
"Once or twice, dear," Josie replies, easily, but with a wistful air now. "Once or twice."
"The end is coming!" Fey squeaks excitedly. "The end! The unravelling of all things. Time to run!
Time to be free!"
And she's right, though it terrifies Carlos to think it. The end really is upon them. This time
tomorrow it will all be over.
***
It's the middle of the night.
It's the middle of the night, and Carlos can't sleep.
Eventually, staring into the darkness becomes too much, and he slips out of bed, pacing to the
front door and stepping quietly outside. The world beyond is wrapped in the cloak of night; the
town up ahead of him glittering under a sky filled with stars.
He drops down onto the top step, staring out at the view.
At Night Vale.
He never thought he'd get to like this place, in the beginning. Thought it would always remind
him too much of Desert Bluffs, of the past he'd been running from. Thought he would always be
terrified by its archaic laws and bizarre customs; by the people who accepted them unblinkingly,
without question.
But now everything is different. Everything is exactly the same and everything will never be
more different. He sees Night Vale for what it really is, out of the corner of his eye: a glowing hub
of possibility, of wonder, of acceptance.
All life is here, and all science, and various things not falling into either category, and that's a lot
more appealing than it might once have been.
And it is terrifying, and imperfect, and beautiful.
And he understands it.
"Room for one more?" comes a soft voice behind him.
Cecil. Carlos has been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the door open.
He glances around. "Always," he replies.
Cecil settles at his side, wrapping an arm around him, and Carlos leans gratefully into the contact.
"You OK?" the other man asks.
"No," Carlos replies. "And yes. I feel strange. Like I'm standing on the very edge of something
huge and terrifying and wonderful. And I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. About this place.
About Night Vale. About you. When I first came here I had no idea any of this would happen.
No plans to look for a relationship. No plans to even stay long-term. But then then this. All of
this. It changed me, Cecil. When I look back at the person I was before I came here I see
someone else."
"Do you regret any of it?" Cecil asks.
"No," Carlos breathes. "Well. Maybe I wish I'd said a few things to you a little sooner. Quite a
few things, actually, and quite a lot sooner. But beyond that this couldn't be more right. And
tomorrow tomorrow it might all come crashing down. It might all be over, not by choice, but by
the will of a power we can't hope to understand. And Cecil, I need you to know I need you
to know that I don't regret it. That there is nowhere else in the world I want to be tomorrow except
standing at your side. That no matter what happens no matter what I"
His voice is cracking too much now, and he turns, curling tightly into Cecil's arms. The other man
holds onto him, and Carlos can feel how much Cecil is shaking too.
"I know," Cecil replies, not letting go. "I know. I love you so much. So, so much. And whatever
happens that will not change. And I I would rather face this potential end with you than some
safer future without you."
"It might all work out," Carlos says, though he knows his own scepticism is there in his voice.
"Tomorrow night we might be back home, the town free, all our friends safe. It's possible. It's
statistically unlikely, but stranger things have happened in Night Vale."
"Very true," Cecil agrees, finally relaxing the hug but staying close, resting his head on Carlos'
shoulder. "I'll keep believing that. I'll keep believing that until the world shows me otherwise."
"Stay with me?" Carlos asks, voice cracking a little again. "I don't think I can sleep. I just want
to sit here and watch my city. Our city."
And, despite it all, there's a smile in Cecil's tone as he replies. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
So there they remain, the scientist and the radio broadcaster, watching a sky alive with stars, and
the lights that flit over Night Vale in the distance.
And they understand. Carlos understands.
And he makes a promise to himself.
He's going to save this place.
He's going to save it no matter what.
***
The next day, the atmosphere in town is so tense it feels like it might snap at any moment. People
try to go about their mornings, acting as though nothing in particular is going to happen later on
but it is.
It is, and they all know it.
In the centre of town, everyone is still giving the unopening door a wide berth. It sits as it always
has, in the large open square beyond the Dog Park, dwarfed by those immense, glittering black
walls and yet somehow infinitely more ominous, infinitely more terrifying.
It begins at noon.
The sun has risen as it usually does, beginning its track across the sky as if this were any other
day. But at noon, it halts in the sky, dead overhead, hanging impossible and immobile for a full
hour.
It's a little while before people start to notice after all, how often are you aware of the exact
position and apparent motion of the sun? though once they do, it's hard to miss.
But it's nothing compared to what happens when the sun starts to move again.
Carlos knows it's impossible. Completely, utterly impossible. Knows that the apparent motion of
the sun is actually the result of the revolution of the Earth. Knows that time and season and
procession can change the angle of its path, but not the direction. Not the speed.
But this is Night Vale. Night Vale, where time doesn't exist, and the clocks harbour some terrible
secret, and 'impossible' isn't the absolute it ought to be.
The sun starts to move visibly, at least if you can discount the glare beginning from its point
high overhead and starting to circle around and around and down, not just moving but clearly
coming undone. For the next two hours, it travels slowly but noticeably through the sky, until the
dome of the heavens is drawn with a great, glowing spiral of unfading light right down to the
horizon, where the sun finally halts, a fraction of its normal size, due west.
It's impossible. Completely impossible. And yet there it is.
The sun itself has unravelled.
People are scared. Of course they're scared. This is still weird, even by Night Vale's standards,
and it doesn't exactly seem like a good omen given what they're all facing.
But it doesn't stop them.
They start to gather, in the square around the unopening door, beyond the Dog Park. The men and
women of Strexcorp come too, gathering as well, and though no one actually says it, everyone can
see what's happening.
The two groups are forming opposite each other, like a pair of armies massing for war.
Shortly before 3pm, a long, black limousine pulls up on the far side of the square: a black
limousine emblazoned with an orange triangle on each door. Five people step from it, one by one:
two women and three men, the last of whom is Derek Hartley himself.
The Strexcorp Management Board. The entire Strexcorp Management Board, with a veritable
legion of enforcers and middle-managers at their back.
Opposite them, the people of Night Vale look a little rag-tag in comparison. Rag-tag but
determined, and numerous too. A lot of them have turned out; certainly more than Carlos dared
hope, though it's a difficult hope all the same, given what might very well happen to all these
people who are taking such a risk in the name of their town.
At the head of the Night Valeans, Josie, John, Larry and Steve stand side-by-side. Carlos knows
they're scared even Josie and, moreover, that they don't actually know how they're supposed
to save the town.
Only that they are supposed to.
In the distance, an unseen clock tower Night Vale's invisible clock tower, which Carlos is still
not convinced about chimes the hour.
And then silence.
Silence.
Though Carlos is sure the beating of his own heart must sound as thunderous to everyone else
as it does to him.
Derek Hartley steps forward.
"Oh my," he says, in that effortlessly cheery tone so common to the denizens of Desert Bluffs. "I
must say, it's such a delight to see so many of the people of Night Vale here today. It's a testament
to the growing union between our two wonderful towns that all of you have come and, trust
me, you'll be glad you did. This is a day destined to be remembered forever; a day we will all hold
in our hearts until they beat no more."
"But not for the reasons you think!"
Cecil's voice cuts the air, a second before he moves, and Carlos' stomach lurches with shock.
They'd agreed they'd all agreed to stand firm and silent for as long as they could, not tipping
their hand until they had to. But even before Cecil speaks, Carlos can feel it; the way something
else is wrapping itself around everyone present, coiling through the air the way the sun has
uncoiled through the sky.
Scientists don't believe in prophecy. They believe in hard logic, evidence, graphs. Numbers. And
string, but they try to keep that one to themselves. The trouble is, they also don't believe in suns
that can come unravelled, or houses that don't exist, or invisible clock towers.
Or miniature cities under bowling alleys.
But this is Night Vale. Night Vale; where the things you don't believe in are real.
So maybe somehow there's a strange kind of destiny wrapping around them now.
Carlos can only hope that it's feeling merciful.
Cecil has stepped forward from the crowd, staring across the square at the ranks of Strexcorp with
defiance writ large across his face. It's beautiful, and it's insane, and it's going to get him killed.
Carlos steps up next to him, shoulder to shoulder.
Derek Hartley's face splits into a smile that makes Carlos' blood go cold as ice.
"Well, well," Hartley says. "So I meet you in person at last Kevin's double. I must say, of all the
doubles I've met since coming to Night Vale, you're the one I was most excited for. I know this is
stating the obvious, but you are just like him apart from the eyes, of course. The people of
Desert Bluffs have such distinctive eyes, don't they? And I see you brought your troublemaking
scientist the man without a double. Not from around here, are you?"
"Not originally," Carlos replies, keeping his voice as level as he can. "Nor, it would seem, are the
five of you."
Whenever another member of Strexcorp has come to town, the people of Night Vale have always
tried to pin down who they are the double of but it doesn't work with the Management Board.
Not one of them has a Night Valean double, and Carlos suspects the reason for this is the same as
why he doesn't have a Desert Bluffs double.
Because they're not from around here either.
"Very true," Hartley says, with a dismissive little wave. "But we're here now. As are you." He
looks from Carlos to Cecil, head on one side. "Did you have something specific to say to me?"
"Yes," Cecil replies, and Carlos grips his hand, knowing his boyfriend is about to put a lot of their
cards on the table. "This has gone on long enough. We, the people of Night Vale, want you out. If
you agree to go, we'll let you depart in peace. If not we'll do what has to be done."
Hartley stares. And stares. And then he laughs, a mirthless and terrible laugh that ends well after it
should. "Wow, that is priceless," he exclaims, finally. "So you and your little bunch of locals
have come to kick us out? Oh, please tell me you've got torches and pitchforks hidden in that
bedraggled crowd of yours? This tiny backwater was practically in the Stone Age before
Strexcorp got here. You should be thanking us."
"Thanking you?" Cecil repeats. "Thanking you? You invaded our town, took over our lives,
abducted and murdered our citizens. And now you bring us here, to that door. We know what's
on the other side of it. We know what you're planning to inflict on us."
Hartley smiles again, but it's a different smile this time: the smile of someone who has just had
their big surprise revealed ahead of schedule and isn't wholly pleased about it. "You do, do you?"
he asks, but it's not actually a question. Maybe he just wants to say it or maybe he's realised
something. It's hard to tell for sure. "Well, then. Perhaps the good people of Night Vale need a
little proof as to why it would be better to accept this than fight it."
He glances back at his own people, and shouts the one thing that could possibly make this
moment any worse; a single word a single name that makes the bottom drop out of Carlos'
world.
"Kevin!"
A figure emerges from the Strexcorp crowd, walking closer with complete ease, dark eyes
glittering in the spiral of unravelled light from above.
"Yes?" Kevin says, looking at Hartley, voice so very calm and level. He glances over at Cecil and
Carlos, almost idly, but his eyes meet Carlos' for a second, and
oh. Oh.
"Kevin, you've been such an asset to Strexcorp," Hartley says. "Even more so since we asked you
to come out to Night Vale. I know it's been a challenging process but I also know you've faced it
with absolute professionalism, and a cheerful smile to boot. You're a credit to our creative arm and
to our non-executive side and, as such, I need you to do something for me, right here and right
now. Something very important."
"Name it," Kevin answers, graciously.
Hartley looks at Cecil, and smiles. And smiles.
"I want you to kill your double."
Carlos is about to protest, caught up in a wave of anger and horror and shock; about to step in
front of Cecil and defend him to the end but before he can move, Kevin does. He puts a hand
on the hilt of his knife which makes Hartley smile then takes a step towards Cecil which
makes Carlos' breath catch and then
Then he turns, weapon undrawn, standing in front of Cecil and Carlos and staring Derek Hartley
down.
"No," he says, very pleasantly.
Hartley's eyes go darker than the void of space. "No?" he repeats.
"No," Kevin says again, a little more forcefully. "No one touches my double. No one touches his
boyfriend. This has gone on long enough."
To the casual observer, he sounds so calm, so sure, but if you know him really, really well and,
let's face it, Carlos does there's more to it than that. There's the barest tremor beneath the words,
only noticeable to those paying enough attention to find it.
It's fear. Genuine, soul-deep fear. And before Carlos can wonder why, Kevin speaks again.
"This has gone on long enough," he repeats. "Strexcorp used to stand for something wonderful.
For light and hope and productivity and everything that made our Desert Bluffs great. And we
loved that. I loved that. But now now you're engulfing our neighbours, even though they don't
want you to. And that that's wrong."
"Wrong?" Hartley repeats. "Wrong? After the sandstorm, you came to me and suggested precisely
this! The fact myself and the rest of the board were already planning it is irrelevant! You stood in
my office and flat-out told me that we ought to expand our operations into Night Vale."
"Yes, I did," Kevin concedes. "But my motivations were disjointed. Certainly not corporate.
And I regret them now."
Hartley does not look impressed. "Oh, you do? And you think that makes a blind bit of difference
to me? You're just one man."
"But I'm not," Kevin replies, the smile coming back to his tone. "I'm not just one man at all. I'm
not the only person who misses what Strexcorp used to be."
And there's movement on the Strexcorp side of the square again, as four more figures step from
the black-and-orange-clad ranks; three women and one man, who move to stand in front of the
people of Night Vale, spread out along the line, turning to face their own their old side.
"Five of you?" Hartley says. "I'm supposed to be worried by five of you?"
"You're supposed to be worried when any one of us breaks ranks," Kevin points out. "I on my
own would have been enough to make the point. I just brought those guys along because I like
them, and because they agreed with me. Also they all have personal soul-binds to some very
impressive demonic entities, and I'm looking forward to watching them detach a few enforcer
limbs."
There's the barest flicker of concern in Hartley's eyes, just for a fleeting second, and then he
laughs. "Oh, I've got to give you points for trying. You are very trying, Kevin. But you really
shouldn't have mentioned the demons. You see, those four may have personal soul-binds, but your
soul-bind to that over-tall, bat-winged monstrosity from the Fourth Infernal Plane is a Strexcorp
employee perk, and one I can overrule in the blink of an eye" He raises a hand and snaps his
fingers, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings, and the merciless black walls of the Dog
Park. "As, indeed, I just did."
"And as I knew you would," Kevin replies, calmly. "I'm not an idiot, Mr Hartley. When I decided
to do this and I decided to do this quite a while ago I knew you'd likely try something so
underhand. Which is why I did something far more underhand in advance. I went into the house
that doesn't exist, where you'd never be able to detect me, and I summoned Azatothoth the
Bloodthirsty myself, using not my soul-bind but the rituals transcribed in the Planar Lexicon. He
was quite taken aback at first and, let me tell you, got a little high-spirited when he realised I'd
summoned him the old-fashioned way and that he wasn't bound to obey me but in the end we
worked it out and had a nice little chat. Turns out that Azzie has been taking on private clients
ever since he got promoted to adjunct. Imagine that! And, even more amazingly, he doesn't
actually hate me quite as much as he claims. So, long story short, I broke my Strexcorp soul-bind
with him yesterday, and established a private link instead."
Still standing in front of Cecil and Carlos, Kevin holds up his hands, and the smile in his voice is
as radiant as the unravelled sun. "So if you're still planning to hurt my double, Mr Hartley, we'll
see what my demon has to say about it."
"You wouldn't dare," Hartley hisses.
"Wouldn't I?" Kevin asks, tone as cheery as if he was discussing the weather.
The air is suddenly heavy, spiked once again with that coppery tang that is so much more than just
blood. Off to the side, Carlos can see the other four who broke ranks all taking up different
positions as well a couple holding their hands up and out, one holding both hands forward, and
another dropping to their knees, staring skywards and as they do, that weight in the air increases
still further.
"You are so fired," Hartley declares.
"Oh, you can fire me, Mr Hartley," Kevin tells him. "You can fire me if you live to see four
o'clock."
He holds both hands a little higher, just as a sound cuts the air: a sound like a single beat on the
most hellish drum imaginable. A circle containing a vivid, burning pentagram blazes into life on
the ground nearby, glowing with infernal light; strange indecipherable symbols between each of
its points. And all the while, Kevin is chanting in a language Carlos can't even identify, never
mind understand, the words sharp and pointed somehow, yet melodious at the same time.
Hartley is clearly doing all he can to look unfazed, and assuredly unimpressed. He folds his arms,
head on one side, rolling his eyes.
He's not fooling anyone, though. Carlos knows the man is concerned.
By now, Kevin's palms are glowing, and the words he's chanting are bordering on ecstatic. Off to
the side, the other four who broke ranks are engaged in similar if different rituals of their own,
accompanied by swirls of light and bursts of fire and smoke.
No one dares move. Certainly not Carlos, who is holding Cecil's hand tight, unable to take his
eyes off Kevin.
Then Kevin shouts out the last three words of the chant, there's a vibrant flash of unholy light
and a figure blazes into existence in the centre of the circle.
It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Demon-summoning violates more laws of physics than
Carlos can count right now. And yet there it he is; the demon Carlos met two and a half
years ago, on the viscera-strewn streets of Desert Bluffs.
Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty. Trust Kevin to be soul-bound to a demon called Azatothoth the
Bloodthirsty.
The demon himself is just as Carlos remembers him; a memory he hasn't been able to shake no
matter how hard he tries: eight feet tall, with broad, curled wings, a pair of sweeping horns, and
skin drenched in blood. There is something different, though, for now the demon is wearing a
heavy metal breastplate carved with a strange, curved emblem, and thick, spiked gauntlets that
seem somehow unnecessary considering how many natural spikes he has already. His huge
barbed sword is at his side, but he also has a vast longbow slung over his back; a longbow at least
six feet from end to end, with a quiver of arrows as thick as spears.
Kevin looks the demon up and down and then folds his arms. "I'm sorry, did you dress for the
occasion?" he asks, sounding either unamused or very amused.
Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty gives him an arched look. "Do you have any idea how long I've been
waiting for this? The unravelling of all things? Of course I dressed for the occasion. Why didn't
you?"
Kevin gives a dismissive wave. "I didn't need to. I do fabulous as standard."
Hartley takes a pointed glance at his watch and then looks back up. "I didn't come here to listen to
sartorial tips from a demon. Especially not a demon from the Fourth Infernal Plane."
"were you just being planist?" Azatothoth asks, in the kind of voice that a smart person would
never provoke, and would certainly run far away from if ever they did provoke.
"Oh, sue me," Hartley replies, with a flicker of agitation. "But on your own time because you, like
your inexplicable little friend here, are so very fired."
"Good," Azatothoth rumbles. "I really can't stand being on Strex's books. The paperwork is
murder."
"I really don't have time for this," Hartley says, looking irritated by the pun and with one last
glower he stalks over to the unopening door.
Carlos feels his breath catch. He's clearly not the only one. Suddenly not a soul not even
Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, or any of the other four demons that have appeared at the front of the
line looks willing to move.
Hartley knocks five times on the rough oaken surface of the door and, seconds later something
knocks four times in reply. The sound draws a renewed smile to Hartley's lips; a smile as wide and
as terrible as the maw of Hell.
"Believe in a Smiling God," he declares, slotting a key into the lock a key that's obviously old,
and made of dark metal; the design all too familiar and turning it. "Believe, Night Vale"
He yanks on the door
and for a fleeting second, Carlos knows this is it. Knows this is the end. Knows, and can feel it,
feel everything words said and unsaid, things done and things left undone; truths embraced and
truths denied and truths still hovering in midair, untouched, unaddressed and resonant with
untapped possibility. Truths he's only just beginning to comprehend
and the door doesn't open.
Hartley stares at it, and gives it another good yank.
Still nothing.
For a long moment, there is silence, as everyone Strex employees, Night Valeans and
summoned demons alike stares at the door as if finally processing what it means that it hasn't
opened.
Then a shout rolls across them all as, in the centre of the Night Valean crowd, a single figure
erupts into the air, having leapt up onto something though precisely what that something is,
Carlos can't see holding one hand aloft and crying out in a clear, determined voice; a voice born
of youth but heavy with something so much older.
Tamika Flynn.
"'Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall never go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'
and sisters, and those not falling into either category!
If we die, Night Vale, let us die of having lived!"
"Wow, that girl is well-read" Cecil mutters, clearly stunned.
And then, perhaps more literally than any of them would like, all hell breaks loose.
The two sides launch at each other, as a wave of civic pride and, let's face it, maybe a little
bloodlust chases through the Night Valean crowd. Before Carlos knows it, they're in the midst
of what can only be described as a battle; people breaking off into smaller fights left, right and
centre. Amidst it all, quite a few pairs of doubles have met up and are grappling too, as if they
have very old scores to settle.
All of a sudden, Kevin turns and grabs Cecil's arm, giving them both an urgent look. "Run," he
says, and tugs them away from the door just as Derek Hartley draws a long, silver blade of his
own and tries to come after them. As he does, Kevin glances back at his demon.
"Now would be a good time, Azzie!" he shouts. "If anyone tries to hurt my double, his scientist
or, you know, me you have my blanket permission to snap them in two!"
Azatothoth shouts something in a language that Carlos can't understand. Perhaps it's the same
language Kevin used to summon him, because whatever it is makes the man laugh suddenly.
"Oh, you," Kevin remarks, staring wistfully for a second as Azatothoth cleaves an enforcer
squarely in two with his sword and then sheathes it, drawing that wicked-looking longbow.
Carlos is trying very, very hard not to look at anything, but it isn't easy, and he's confident he'll
never sleep again assuming he lives to see tonight, of course.
Luckily, Kevin starts urging the two of them to run once more, and they move further from the
door, closer to the Night Valean side of the square. People are still fighting all around them, and
on the far side of the square there are chants and shouts in unknown languages, accompanied by
bursts of light, as a number of the Strexcorp employees summon demons of their own.
"This is insane!" Cecil calls out. He's still holding onto Carlos, trying to protect him anytime
someone comes near.
"You people really have lived terribly quiet lives before now," Kevin remarks. "This isn't exactly
my first full-scale battle. It is the first one that ended with me betraying my own side, though, so
we're still treading new ground."
"Why did you betray Strex?" Cecil asks, eyes still full of suspicion.
"Why do you think?" Kevin replies. "I oh, hold that thought"
A pair of enforcers comes running at them, weapons drawn. Kevin immediately raises his knife,
ducking and spinning and flooring the first of the two as if without thinking, stabbing the orange-
tied man squarely in the chest before leaping at the second.
"He's killing people again," Carlos manages.
"Yeah," Cecil replies, with an oddly distracted edge to his tone, albeit one Carlos doesn't have
time to process right now. "But, you know to save our lives"
"I just wanted to do science," Carlos murmurs, slightly out of his mind with fear. "I just wanted
to do science quietly and not make a fuss"
"I know," Cecil tells him. "But hey welcome to Night Vale! Things don't always turn out the
way you"
"I think you mean 'welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area,' don't you?" comes
a voice from behind them; a voice that makes them both turn in horror as another enforcer tries to
go for them.
But before he can even take a swing, there's a flash of silver and a blade flies through the air,
directly between Cecil and Carlos, catching the enforcer in the chest and flooring him
immediately. And it's hard to tell who looks more shocked: the enforcer, or the two of them.
"They mean, 'welcome to Night Vale,'" Kevin hisses, stalking over to pull his knife out of the
enforcer's chest. "Although," he adds, glancing at Cecil, "'the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan
Area' does have a nice ring to it"
"No, Kevin," Cecil tells him, flatly.
Kevin shrugs. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
Overhead there's a sudden roar, and three helicopters sweep into view; three yellow helicopters
marked with dents and scrapes, their Strexcorp emblems painted over with vibrant purple eyes.
The side doors of all three are open, with members of the youth militia standing inside, satchels of
rocks over their shoulders, slingshots at the ready.
"For Night Vale!" Tamika Flynn shouts, as the central helicopter drops a rope ladder. She catches
hold of it, swinging into the air and then beginning to climb.
Arising.
"Take them out!" shrieks Derek Hartley, from somewhere near the door. "None of this is
productive!"
And now, from the Strexcorp side, a whole swarm of yellow helicopters at least ten of them
swoop into the air, menacing and obviously armed.
And that's when it happens. Maybe it's just a gesture of unity or maybe maybe that strange
sense of destiny coiling around the square has more power than Carlos first thought. As the
Strexcorp helicopters start coming towards the three now belonging to the youth militia, Josie,
John, Larry and Steve still standing in a line all grip hands.
The air goes electric, first hot and then cold, followed by a burst of static that chases through the
crowd. It doesn't affect the combatants of either side but instead rises up, forming a pale,
glittering dome of light over the square, beyond which the unravelled sun still glows.
And beyond which the helicopters now lie.
"Take them out!" Tamika Flynn shrieks, voice laced with triumph, and the three helicopters turn,
allowing the young warriors within to start launching rocks at the Strexcorp copters. When the
first one starts to spiral downwards, trailing fire, the people below are obviously alarmed but it
hits the dome of light and skitters across the intangible surface, finally sliding to the ground well
beyond the combatants.
"It's working!" Carlos hears Larry Leroy whoop with delight. "It's working!"
"Stand firm!" Josie calls out. "Stand firm for Night Vale!"
"Weird friends you have," Kevin remarks, looking at Carlos.
"Says the man half-drenched in the blood of his own employers," Carlos points out, as levelly as
he can manage through all the flashbacks.
"Oh, shush, I told you it would end up like this," Kevin insists. "Not in so many words, but
hey, life's more fun if you have to work some stuff out for yourself. You like science, you should
totally get that."
"Uh Kevin?" Cecil interrupts.
"Yes, my dear double?"
"Don't call me that. Also, I think your demon wants you."
Carlos processes it too, now; the shout in that unearthly voice, ringing across the crowd. Kevin
turns at once, spotting the trio of enforcers that Azatothoth is clearly trying to warn him about,
seconds before one of them nigh-on explodes as he's caught from behind by one of those spear-
like arrows.
"Oh, I'm not enjoying this," Cecil manages.
"Really?" Kevin replies. "I am!"
And he launches at the remaining two enforcers, bowling one of them to the ground with a very
nasty crack and
don't look, don't look, don't look
When Carlos finally does look, both of the other enforcers are down and Kevin is grinning over at
him and Cecil, eyes alight with a strange kind of pleasure.
It's terrifying. Horrifying. But it's also
don't think it!
"Oh, relax, you two," Kevin says, seeing the pair of looks he's getting. "Honestly, anyone would
think you'd never even"
But he doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence because, at that moment, a figure grabs his
shoulder; a figure streaked with far more blood than his wayward employee: Derek Hartley.
Derek Hartley, eyes lit with malice, blade in hand.
In a second that seems to both take an eternity and happen all at once, Hartley yanks Kevin round
so they're facing each other. So the look in his eyes is impossible to miss.
And then, blade flashing, he stabs Kevin in the side.
Chapter End Notes
Tamika's rallying cry is of course an edited snippet from the famous St Crispin's Day
Speech from Shakespeare's Henry V, mixed with part of the line from Willa Cather's
Death Comes For The Archbishop that's quoted in canon.
Also, for anyone who finds it amusing as me, I picked the name 'Hartley' for the
leader of Strexcorp because - according to the internet - it means "deer meadow" and
that made me smile... ;-)
Chirality
Chirality
Chirality is the state whereby an object is not identical to its mirror image, despite them being the
same.
***
All Carlos hears is the scream, though it's a moment before he processes the fact that the scream is
his own; a scream that seems to come from the very depths of his soul.
He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to analyse the moment, or the emotions or the risks. He just runs;
aware that Cecil is running beside him but not able to process what that means either, running
until he's close to where Kevin has fallen.
Derek Hartley is still standing over him, smiling and smiling, looking as though he suddenly
thinks all of this was worthwhile.
"I will end you!" howls Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, voice laden with a rage so intense that it
makes several other enforcers who have been closing in immediately back off and decide
they'd rather fight other people instead. Derek Hartley stands his ground, staring the demon down
even as Azatothoth slings his bow over his back and draws his sword again.
"You?" Hartley hisses, voice laden with scorn. "You really think I'm scared of an adjunct from the
Fourth Infernal Plane? You're just a drone. Not even fit for junior management."
"Maybe so," Azatothoth rumbles. "But we're the ones who hold companies like yours together.
Or rip them apart."
The rage in the demon's eyes is impossible to miss. Carlos catches a matching flicker of alarm in
Hartley's eyes, and then closes his own.
There's a sound that defies description, accompanied by a sudden intake of breath that Carlos is
strangely certain won't be followed by another.
"Masters of us all" Cecil breathes, voice shaking.
When Carlos manages to look again Derek Hartley is dead. It's probably best to leave it at that.
What's left of him is slumped a good distance off, where Azatothoth is now staring in utter
contempt.
Carlos doesn't think anymore. He crosses the remaining space between himself and Kevin,
dropping down at the stricken man's side.
"Oh no, no, no" he hears himself muttering. He tries to clap a hand over the wound on Kevin's
side, but Kevin has already done that and is holding on tight. Carlos presses his own hand on top,
feeling hot blood spill between both their fingers.
"Oh wow, that hurts" Kevin gasps. He's gone pale, eyes a little unfocused. "Could you
maybe you know..?"
"Don't you dare ask me for an aspirin again," Carlos replies, feeling somewhat delirious himself,
as Cecil drops down on Kevin's other side looking
horrified? Wait, what?
"Whyever not?" Kevin murmurs. "'s good for pain."
"Kevin, acetylsalicylic acid is also a blood thinner."
"Acetyl what?"
"Acetylsalicylic acid. Aspirin."
"Oh. You're very smart."
"And you're very wounded!"
Carlos knows he sounds a little hysterical, but he can't tone it down. He can't.
"You should run," Kevin gasps, looking more and more pained with every second. "Both of you.
I just hope I bought you enough time."
"You did," Cecil replies, and the tone of his voice is so intense and certain that Carlos looks up,
knowing the anguish writ large across his face will give everything away.
But Cecil doesn't even blink. He looks between the two of them and then up at the battle raging all
around, and something new comes to his eyes: a determination that transcends whatever fear he
must also be feeling.
A determination pouring from the unseen power coiling around the square.
Destiny. Prophecy.
"Leave me," Kevin says, and there's nothing in his voice now but him; no cheer, no malice, no
amusement, no threat. Just a man; a man effectively spilling his own blood onto enemy soil. "It's
OK. It's OK. My mother always used to say that my death would be because of a mirror, and I
I'm just glad it was for you"
"My mother always said the same," Cecil replies, gripping his arm. "And I'm sure both our
mothers were very wise. But it won't be today. It will not be today."
And he picks up Kevin's fallen blade, rising to his feet with the weapon in hand, standing between
his stricken double and the group of Strex employees some of whom look to be middle-
managers that is now advancing, having clearly (and literally) caught the scent of blood.
Cecil swings the blade in their direction. It's a brave and defiant gesture, but it's clear he has no
real idea what to do with it.
"Stay back!" he declares. "No one touches my double!"
"And what, you're going to stop us?" one of the middle-managers a fearsome-looking woman
sneers. "You and what army?"
"This army!" comes a shout from close by.
It's Steve Carlsberg, still standing with the other three: Josie, John and Larry; all four of them
forming a line and holding hands. They're bloodless, unhurt, and it's only now that Carlos
processes that this is because no one can get close to them.
And they've clearly gotten more accustomed to the power coursing through them.
Another electric ripple cuts through the crowd, without disturbing the shield protecting them from
the helicopters. Overhead, Carlos hears Tamika Flynn give a renewed cry of triumph as her
helicopter swoops past, chasing one of the Strexcorp copters. And then there's a second ripple, a
wave of cool light impossible and yet happening nonetheless that knocks the group of middle-
managers off their feet, sending them flying out into the battle.
"Thanks!" Cecil calls over to the four, in obvious relief.
"This doesn't mean I like you!" Steve shouts.
But there's relief on his face too.
"This is only going to work for so long," Kevin rasps, grabbing Carlos' shoulder with his free arm.
"You seriously need to"
And then a new sound cuts the air.
Three knocks.
Three knocks from the far side of the unopening door.
"Hartley's key" Kevin gasps.
"What about it? Do we need it?"
"No. No. His key his real key you've already got it. I switched it out, days ago. Replaced it
with one like mine one of the less-powerful ones. Yours is the one he thought he had. The only
one that can"
And Kevin looks round at the door.
"I can open it?" Carlos manages.
"With the key I gave you, you can," Kevin replies.
"But we don't want it open. That that light"
"That light the the Smiling God would come through if Hartley opened the door. But those
keys they're smarter than you think."
Carlos stares. "The keys are smart?"
"Yes. If someone else opens that door they might get something different"
"Might?"
Kevin gives a little shrug. "Well, we are talking about overruling the Smiling God. I can't promise
it will work."
"But it might work?"
"Yeah. It might work."
"Good. Because we're still outnumbered and I don't know how much longer our people can hold
the Strex lot off."
"So go," Kevin insists. "Go open that door and find out what else is on the other side"
Maybe it's the thought of leaving him that makes Carlos finally understand. Maybe it's just that
unseen power coiled through the air.
But he does. He does understand.
Three are the key.
"Cecil!" Carlos calls. "We need to get to the unopening door. All three of us!"
"All three of us?" Cecil repeats. "I Carlos, you're a genius!"
He races over, and between them they somehow manage to pull Kevin to his feet: Cecil taking
one of the man's arms over his own shoulders, and Carlos supporting him on his injured side,
keeping a hand over the wound. They stagger across the battlefield; barely aware that Azatothoth
is knocking people out of their path, barely aware that the still-linked four are closing in, watching
them defensively.
Carlos jams a bloodied hand into his pocket and pulls out the key. "This is it," he gasps, his own
voice shaking. "This"
He pushes the key into the lock and turns it.
And pulls on the door handle.
But there's nothing.
"That's impossible," Kevin murmurs, almost brokenly. "That's the key, the key, and I was so
sure"
He staggers a little, nearly losing his footing, and both Cecil and Carlos have to half-catch him,
tightening their hold to keep him upright and
just for a second, their hands catch across Kevin's back, and Carlos feels it again: that shot of
heat, rolling through him. The same heat he felt that afternoon in WZZZ, and inside the house that
doesn't exist.
"What is it?" Cecil asks, clearly having caught the shock in his boyfriend's eyes.
"You didn't feel that?" Carlos replies, stunned. "That heat?"
"No," Cecil answers. "I"
And now Carlos gets it.
Three who are two who are one.
"Touch me again," he says, not even bothering to think what those words sound like. "So both of
you are doing it at the same time."
Cecil doesn't argue. He reaches around Kevin, who is staring at Carlos in bleary-eyed shock, and
grips his arm.
And Carlos feels it: a heat that rolls through his whole body, like waves breaking on a sea of lava.
For a second he can hardly focus and then everything sharpens. Everything.
He reaches forward, turns the key once again and pulls open the unopening door.
And there is light. But it isn't the aggressive, all-consuming light of the Smiling God; intrusive and
terrible. Oh no. This is a different light, just as bright but warm and welcome, like the glow of a
radiant sunrise, spilling into a darkened room and signalling a new day. It courses through the air,
spiralling around the linked four standing a little way off, covering the whole battlefield with its
aura.
And there's more. Standing in the doorway, glowing as bright as the light pouring around her, is a
woman: a young woman with eyes that have seen so much more than her twenty-two years might
suggest. A young woman who smiles back at them, not the Strexcorp smile but the Night Vale
smile, full of hope and warmth and serenity and a mystery that will never quite be answered.
"I'm home," whispers Former Intern Dana. "I'm home."
Beyond her lies a vast and open desert, but where before it had always been cloaked in the glow
of day, now it is wrapped in the glitter of night. At its centre stands a mountain, with a blinking
red light atop it, and between the foot of the mountain and where Dana stands are
Warriors. Hundreds upon hundreds of masked warriors. And, close by, another young woman: a
young woman wearing a satchel much like the ones used by the youth militia to carry rocks
except, in this case, it's filled with oranges.
"We made it," breathes Former Intern Maureen.
Two of them.
"We made it," Dana echoes, and then she turns, smiling at the army who have followed her all this
way.
And they charge.
Cecil and Carlos somehow manage to get out of the way in time, pulling Kevin with them, as the
masked warriors charge out into the world, turning to race at the stunned Strexcorp employees.
Maureen follows, starting to pull oranges from her satchel and throw them at the Strex enforcers,
and as each strikes its target the person in question flickers and vanishes.
Revenge, it seems, is sweet as citrus.
When the vast desert behind her has emptied out, Dana finally steps through. She's radiant she is
the source of the light and there's still absolute serenity writ large across her timeless face. The
young woman turns, closing the door behind her, and it glows vibrant white as if sealing and
then disappears.
And now everyone beyond where the door once was can see her, shining like the warm light of
day as she watches her otherworldly army take back her city.
"For Night Vale," she whispers.
Behind Dana, some of that same light is still spiralling around Josie, John, Larry and Steve, lifting
them part-way into the air. The light builds in intensity, brighter and brighter, until it bursts
outwards, blazing through the shield that has been protecting them from the Strexcorp helicopters
the last of which has just fallen until it touches the sky. The spiral of sunlight filling the dome
of the heavens begins to recede, coiling back into the westward sun, wrapping around and around
until, with one last shout of light, the sun is whole again. It hovers where it is for only a matter of
seconds, and then sinks beneath the horizon, throwing the town into night.
And there's silence.
Silence.
Silence.
It's over.
It's over and they've won.
Around the square there are flashes of light as the last of the demons start to disappear; all except
Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, who looks set on staying right where he is, lurking close to his
stricken summoner.
Exhausted, Kevin collapses, and now Cecil and Carlos have no choice but to lower him gently to
the ground, dropping down beside him. His face is white, and wracked with pain, but there's a
strange kind of serenity there too.
On the far side of the square, the masked warriors from beyond the world are rounding up the
Strex survivors, whilst the Night Valeans race out onto the battlefield to start rescuing the
wounded.
Quite a lot have fallen, on both sides. Carlos can see that. But a great deal more have not fallen,
and that's that's something to cling to. On the edge of the square, he can even see his team of
scientists looking exhausted and alarmed but very much alive where they've been this whole
time, armed with a collection of homemade explosives and what looks suspiciously like
Frederick's prototype death ray.
Never mess with a scientist. Especially not these scientists.
And Carlos Carlos' mind is racing; racing with certainty, the likes of which he hasn't felt
since
since the bowling alley. Since the Arby's parking lot.
They seem so long ago, now.
Still glowing, Former Intern Dana starts walking towards them. She smiles over at the re-grounded
Josie, John, Larry and Steve, giving them a little nod as if they all share a secret now and maybe
they do. Maybe that light was more than just a power beyond all telling.
Dana walks closer, dropping down onto one knee close to Kevin, staring at him, and at Cecil.
"You made it back," Cecil whispers, and there's joy in his eyes despite everything else. "You
made it home."
"I did," Dana replies. "It's so good to see you again."
Kevin, meanwhile, is staring up at her in confusion. "Vanessa?" he whispers.
Dana looks at him again. "No," she answers. "I'm Dana."
"Oh," Kevin breathes. "Well you look just like her I think, I everything is going cold"
"We have to do something!" Carlos exclaims. "Is any of the Medical Board still alive? We have to
get him to a hospital!"
"Many of them are still alive," Dana replies, softly, though how she just knows this is impossible
to say. "And they will help the survivors. But they don't need to help Kevin. I can do that"
"You know who I am?" he murmurs.
"Of course I do," Dana says. "I was the first person from Night Vale to see you. I was hiding
there in the booth, the day of the sandstorm. And I was terrified. But I'm not terrified now. Now
I understand"
She reaches forward, nudging first Carlos' and then Kevin's hand away from the wound on his
side. Carlos catches sight of it for a second, which fills him with horror and then Dana lays her
hand over it.
And the light pours out of her, coursing down into the wounded man on the ground. His whole
body shakes like he's been hit, a stunned cry slipping his lips and then the light is gone. The
light is gone and Dana is still kneeling there, herself once more.
Kevin gasps, as though drawing breath for the first time. He's still covered in blood, but his side is
completely healed. Completely. There isn't a mark left on him.
"How..?" Carlos exclaims, stunned, as a wave of relief hits him with all the force of eternity.
"How..?!"
He doesn't know what else to do. He throws his arms around Dana and hugs her, despite the fact
they've never even met before not on the same plane of existence, at least.
"He needed it more than me," she whispers, blushing a little, as Carlos finally pulls back.
"Please tell me he's not still alive," comes a cold voice from close by.
They turn, to see that the masked warriors have escorted a group of Strexcorp personnel over: two
women and one man from the Management Board, as well as Lauren Mallard, who has Daniel at
her side, his arm over her shoulder, evidently wounded too.
It's Lauren who's spoken, though why the survivors from the Management Board have deferred to
her, Carlos neither knows nor wants to know.
"Help me up," Kevin whispers, and Cecil and Carlos oblige. The man may no longer be dying,
but he's still very pale and quite unsteady. They all stand, Dana rising too and remaining nearby,
staring over at the group from Strex.
"I'm still alive," Kevin declares, obviously trying to keep his voice as level and calm as possible.
"I thought you of all people would be pleased by that, Lauren. We used to get on so well."
"Yes, we did," she replies. "I liked you. I admired you. And then you betrayed Strexcorp,
betrayed the Smiling God, for for what? For this pathetic little backwater?"
"My reasons are my own," Kevin replies. "Not Strexcorp's. Not anymore."
Lauren glowers at him, having evidently wanted him to give voice to the obvious answer.
"It's corporate treason," she hisses. "You, and the other defectors, none of whom seem to have
survived. I ought to make it the full set. I should kill you where you for want of a better word
stand."
"You come near him and you'll have to go through me," Cecil interjects, and only now does
Carlos realise that Cecil still has Kevin's knife.
"And me," Carlos adds, as fiercely as he can.
"And me," Dana declares, folding her arms.
"And us," say Josie, John, Larry and Steve, in very effective unison.
Lauren glowers all the more. "Fine," she says, flatly. "Fine. We're going back to Desert Bluffs.
Strexcorp is withdrawing from Night Vale. You like this little place so much, you can keep it. All
this revolutionary nonsense is interfering with important business productivity. And as for you,"
she adds, looking at Kevin, "you can consider yourself fired. And exiled. You'll never set foot in
Desert Bluffs again. Never."
"Fine," Kevin replies, obviously trying to keep his voice level. Obviously trying to keep the
sudden anguish out of his tone.
"And he won't need to," Cecil declares. "Because he can stay right here, in Night Vale."
Kevin looks stunned. Lauren looks even more annoyed.
"Well, good luck with that," she hisses.
And the Strex employees turn still flanked by the masked warriors and walk away.
"You really mean it?" Kevin murmurs, still staring at Cecil in shock.
"Yes, I mean it. Now don't do anything weird that makes me change my mind."
Kevin manages a delirious little grin, and then glances over at Azatothoth. "Hey, Azzie," he says.
"I'm totally alive!"
"Of course you are," the demon replies. "I'm convinced there's no force in existence capable of
sparing me from your incessant summonings."
"Oh, you," Kevin says. "You like me really. Otherwise you wouldn't have let me have a private
soul-bind. And you certainly wouldn't have done that delightful thing to Hartley where you"
"I shut my eyes for that part, Kevin, I don't want to know," Carlos interrupts, with a shudder.
"Oh, fine," Azatothoth concedes. "And hey, I sort of got to kill my boss. Ex boss. By proxy. Or
something. I'm living the dream!"
And, with a grin that reveals far too many pointed teeth, he vanishes in a blaze of infernal light.
"I really do like that guy," Kevin murmurs. "He's so helpful."
"He's soul-bound to you," Cecil reminds him.
"Yeah," Kevin agrees. "Think I might pass out now."
"Don't you dare," Carlos says.
But he does.
***
Given that the sun has set before 4pm, it's going to be a long evening. In many ways, though, this
is a welcome fact. The dark cloak of night wraps over the town, its namesake, cooling the heat of
a day in which everything has changed.
Beyond long-missed and familiar walls, so much is happening. Out there, out in a town still
coming to terms with its regained freedom, a thousand stories are unfolding.
Out there, a mother and a brother wrap arms around a daughter and a sister who has been lost for
so long. They, of course, are different people but she is the same person except that she is not
the same person, because of everything that has happened to her.
Nervous parents stare in pride and concern at a teenage girl bedecked in war paint and still quoting
from books usually far beyond one so young.
A conspiracy-theorist no, truth-seeker ruffles his stepdaughter's hair and goes back to telling
his internet contacts about the massive corporation he's just helped defeat.
A smiling farmer walks through fields of imaginary corn, fingertips trailing through open space
that is anything but empty, staring up at a sky lit with stars.
A wise man looks out at a forest that still whispers in the night, wondering how he ever got caught
up in events so wild and insane.
An old woman re-erects a sign outside her house that reads "Angels' Residence" and then stands,
hands on her hips, waiting.
And, in the spaces in between, the wounded recover, the survivors celebrate, the lost are mourned.
Orange emblems are pulled from buildings, to be replaced with a familiar, welcoming purple eye.
Battle-scarred helicopters rest, quiet and still, on the desert sands.
In the silence of Mission Grove Park, beneath an offset bench, the earth begins to move almost
hopefully.
But all of this happens somewhere else. Somewhere beyond long-missed and familiar walls.
Within those long-missed and familiar walls in a dimly lit living room, a scientist is on his knees
beside a couch, holding the hand of a man who is still unconscious.
"Any change?" Cecil asks, softly, as he walks back into the room.
Carlos looks round. He's in a better state than he was when they first got home, given that Cecil all
but pushed him into the bathroom so he could do something about the blood.
There was quite a lot of it. Quite a lot. The stuff gets everywhere. And Carlos has to admit that the
shower and the change of clothes are helping with his mindset.
But only so much. Since he re-emerged from the shower, he's been here, kneeling beside the
couch where they've laid Kevin. The man is still unconscious, breathing softly, looking oddly
serene which is in stark counterpoint to Carlos, who is trying to repress how frantic he feels.
Ever since Cecil went off to shower, Carlos has been struggling to work out what he can possibly
say to the man when he gets back. They've both been oddly businesslike up 'til now;
concentrating on getting home and dealing with the fact that spending an afternoon on a battlefield
has a tendency to leave you covered in blood.
But there's a lot they're not saying. There's a whole world of unspoken words hanging between
them, and they sting like fresh wounds all of their own.
Carlos doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know how Cecil has let things go on this long,
but he's confident this will have to be the end of it.
And he can't even think about that.
"No," he replies, very softly, looking round at Cecil. "No change. He's still out."
Cecil paces closer, resting a gentle hand on Carlos' shoulder, which makes him jump. It doesn't,
however, send that strange spiral of heat running through him anymore. Whatever that was, it
seems to have disappeared along with the unopening door.
"He'll be fine," Cecil says. "I think he just needs some time to rest. He did go through a lot."
"Worth it in the end, though" the man on the couch murmurs suddenly, which makes Carlos
jump, and stare at him in renewed hope.
Slowly, Kevin blinks his eyes open, looking blearily up at them. "Hey" he says.
"Hey yourself," Carlos manages, aware his voice is shaking but feeling too relieved to do
anything about it. That same relief also keeps him from noticing the way Cecil grips his shoulder,
which is telling in its own right.
"How are you feeling?" Cecil asks.
"Like I just survived getting fired" Kevin replies. "I whoa, my head feels weird I
wait, where am I?"
"Our place," Carlos replies.
Kevin stares at him. "You brought me home?"
"Had to take you someplace safe," Cecil points out. "Those strange masked warriors are still
helping the Secret Police clear the last of the Strex personnel out of town, and we didn't want your
old employers trying anything."
"Ah good good thinking," Kevin agrees. "I thanks for that. You didn't have to"
"Of course we did," Cecil insists. "You saved our lives. And"
He trails off, which makes Carlos look up at him in surprise.
"Carlos, can I speak to you for a moment?" Cecil asks, which makes Carlos jump.
He's confident he knows what's coming next. Confident he knows, and confident he doesn't have
a clue how to deal with it.
"Sure," he agrees, voice shaking. "We'll be right back," he says to Kevin, and then lets go of his
hand, scrambling to his feet and following Cecil through into the kitchen.
When he gets there he stands, arms wrapped around himself almost defensively, not knowing
what else to do.
"We need to talk," Cecil begins, softly.
"I know," Carlos manages. "Cecil, I I"
But he can't get the words out. They're a raging storm inside his head, but he doesn't know how to
give them voice.
"You love him," Cecil says.
"I Cecil, I love you," Carlos insists, desperately. "I love you with all that I am."
"I know you do," Cecil replies, voice so soft and sure. "And you also love him. One doesn't
necessarily rule out the other. They can both be true."
"I I know," Carlos concedes, "but"
Cecil takes a step closer, which almost makes Carlos jump back in alarm. The other man puts a
gentle hand on his shoulder, tugging him in, and eventually Carlos relents, dropping his arms from
where they've been tight around himself, and letting the other man hold him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could just decide. And and"
"I may have another solution," Cecil says, suddenly, and there's a weird little edge to his voice
that does make Carlos jump back, staring at him.
Perhaps his subconscious mind understands, before his conscious mind can make sense of it.
"You you do?" he just about manages to say.
"Yes," Cecil tells him. "I don't know if it would work, though. I'd need to see what Kevin
thinks."
"You could just ask me," comes a soft voice from the doorway.
They both turn to see Kevin standing there. He still looks dishevelled from the battle though
they got the worst of the blood off whilst he was unconscious, which is something and a touch
hazy-eyed from having just woken, to say nothing of being more than a little in shock after the
events of the day. And the truth of the matter is here and now, the lingering streaks of blood
aside, he looks as lost and hopeful and soul-cripplingly wonderful as Cecil did, that night in the
Arby's parking lot.
And Carlos' heart just breaks. It breaks and he understands.
And apparently he isn't the only one.
"What are you going to do now?" Cecil says to Kevin.
"I don't know," his double admits. "I all my life I've known, and now now it's all come
crashing down. I don't regret a thing, but I can't ever go home. I don't even know where I will
go."
"Why do you have to go anywhere?" Cecil asks, and only now does Carlos process that the man
is slowly advancing on his double. "You don't have to. You could stay here."
"Stay here?" Kevin whispers, and oh but the flicker of hope in his voice nearly breaks Carlos all
over again, seconds before his conscious mind finally processes what's going on.
Finally processes that once again the seemingly impossible is actually happening.
"Yes," Cecil answers. "Stay here. With us."
He reaches out all at once, grabs hold of Kevin, and pulls him in to kiss and it's like the whole
world has inverted, revealing the bright, inconceivable starscape beneath. Carlos can't breathe.
Can't think. He is staring, beyond a shadow of a doubt, at the most impossibly beautiful thing in
the universe.
Two of them. How did he not even stop to think that the two of them would look so..?
OK, no, wait, he may have stopped to think it. Once or twice. Or
Oh.
The kiss breaks, and there's a long, strange instant where the two borderline-identical men are
staring at each other, one in shock and the other in complete understanding, and Carlos is
confident that if he even moves he'll cause the whole universe to unravel all over again.
None of them says a word. None of them needs to say a word.
Before Carlos knows it, Cecil has reached over and grabbed hold of him, pulling him between the
two of them, facing Kevin. They've stood like this several times before Cecil behind and Kevin
in front but it's different now. Different and exactly the same.
Kevin kisses him kisses him hard whilst Cecil presses against his back and wraps around him,
and it's so mind-breakingly wonderful that Carlos feels like his knees are going to give way.
There's hands all over him more than he can keep up with every touch electrifying and flooded
with heat again though not a mystical, scientifically-impossible heat.
No. This is a heat a need of a much clearer kind.
"Please," he gasps, well-aware he already sounds wrecked. "Please."
"Anything for you," the other two both whisper, one in each ear, in unison, and Carlos can't for the
life of him work out how they're able to do that. It's as though something has just clicked and they
understand.
They understand everything.
The two of them stay pressed close, now both kissing Carlos' neck, one on each side, because of
course each of them knows full-well that this will drive him gloriously insane. And they're right.
His knees actually give way after a moment of such onslaught, but the other two already have
hold of him, and don't let him fall.
It's another long moment before they finally pause, and Kevin finally stops to stare at them. "
You really mean it" he whispers, in what can only be unrestrained joy.
"We really mean it," Cecil replies.
"Merciful Einstein, yes," Carlos manages.
"We should" Kevin starts out, and then hesitates, almost as if he's worried he's pushing his
luck.
"Bedroom," Cecil says, obviously understanding what Kevin means without him needing to get
the words out. "I think you already know where it is."
For once, Kevin has the good grace to blush.
They slowly make their way down the hall, kissing as they go. This is distracting enough with
two, but with three of them, it's no small wonder they even make it as far as the bedroom. They
clatter through the door, starting to pull each other's clothes off, and before Carlos even knows it
the other two have switched places, and now he's got Kevin behind him, holding him, whilst Cecil
kisses across his chest.
The strange thing is even without their very different eyes as a point of reference Carlos can
tell the other two apart without difficulty. If he'd had the opportunity to think about it in advance,
he might have expected it to be more challenging but it isn't. They're borderline identical, and
utterly different, and when he's got more time to consider it he realises it's going to be absolutely
fascinating, and
He giggles a little, not aware of how out of his own head he already is. The others pause a second
to stare at him.
"What is it?" Cecil asks, softly.
"You two," Carlos murmurs, still grinning to himself. "You're so very chiral."
"Chiral?" Kevin repeats; and, by the by, Carlos realises he has got to get the man both men
to come out with scientific terminology more often, because it really is ridiculously hot.
"Yeah," he breathes, happily. "Chiral. Like where you have two molecules of the same
compound, but they're mirror images, and you can't ever superimpose one on the other. But
they're still the same. You're like that."
The two doubles exchange a look. "He's rambling about science already," Kevin points out.
"I noticed," Cecil replies. "That's usually a good sign."
"A very good sign," Kevin agrees.
There's another little moment where the two of them are having a conversation using just their
eyes, and then before Carlos knows it they drop him back on the bed, pulling off the last of his
clothes. With that done, they start tugging the remaining clothing from each other and wow, that
is hot to watch, especially given that they keep pausing to make out again. Carlos puts his hands
behind his head, making it quite clear how much he appreciates the show, and thereby getting
more than he bargained for when the other two suddenly drop down either side of him Kevin on
his left and Cecil on his right grabbing hold of his hands with one each of their own, and
pinning him.
"Yes," he gasps, pushing up just to feel how firmly he's held and kissing Kevin, deep and
drawn out, whimpering a little as the kiss breaks and Cecil leans in to capture his lips instead,
kissing him just as hard.
"You like that?" Cecil asks.
"Like it?" Carlos repeats. "I'm in heaven."
"Awwww," Kevin replies, with a rather devious grin. "You're sweet. But there's nothing divine
about what we're going to do to you"
It really is a good job they're lying down already. Even just the looks in the two doubles' eyes
would be enough to knock Carlos for six, but those words, that promise..?
"You're wicked, you know that?" Cecil says, looking at Kevin.
His double gives a little shrug. "Carlos likes it," he points out, and then a look of renewed delight
crosses his face. "And so it seems do you."
"How observant" Cecil murmurs, a similar expression in his own eyes, as he reaches out with
his free hand to pull Kevin in, kissing him hard, right over Carlos. And wow, but he really could
watch them do that all night.
As the kiss breaks, Cecil's eyes flick over his double; over the palm that's just been gripping his
shoulder, and the one that's still holding Carlos. "Are you left-handed?" he asks, seemingly out
of nowhere.
Kevin looks surprised by the question. "Of course I am. You're not?"
As if by way of an answer, Cecil gives a little wave with his right hand.
Carlos laughs again. The other two look at him quizzically.
"Told you," the scientist murmurs. "Chiral. Maybe one day I'll write a research paper about you,
only no one will believe it because this place doesn't make any sense"
"Also you'll have to censor most of it," Cecil points out. "On account of all the sex."
"Speaking of which" Kevin adds, that wicked look back in his eyes. He and Cecil exchange a
glance, and then both push a hand between Carlos' legs one left and one right starting to stroke
him firmly. At the same time. It's so mind-blowingly incredible that Carlos cries out all at once,
arching up into the contact.
"Please," he whispers. "Please."
They're still pinning his wrists between them perhaps they understand things about him that he
doesn't understand himself yet so all Carlos can do is turn to kiss them one at a time, murmuring
appreciation and encouragement in between. It feels beyond incredible. Absolutely beyond
incredible. Either of them on their own can reduce him to blissful incoherence, so the two of them
together? He doesn't stand a chance.
And he loves it.
Kevin slides a little lower, finally letting go of him in order to start kissing across his chest, circling
a nipple with the tip of his tongue, whilst Cecil kisses the curve of his neck, over and over until all
Carlos can do is close his eyes, completely lost in the ever-building storm of sensation. He can't
keep up with it. Isn't trying to keep up with it, not when he can sink in it instead, caught in the
onslaught that is everything he ever wanted and everything he didn't know he wanted all at once.
How often do you get that lucky? Not often at all. But maybe, after everything, it's about time he
did. About time they all did.
And with every second, they're pulling him closer and closer to the edge; an edge he wants not
only to tumble over, but to be full-on thrown over. So he's left in no doubt about this. About any
of this.
He's been whispering "Yes yes" again and again for at least ten seconds now, but it's a few
more before he finally notices. This gets him a pair of matching grins, as the other two pause to
look at him.
"Are you close?" Kevin asks, with a deadly little edge to his tone.
"Yes," Carlos nigh-on whimpers.
Kevin and Cecil exchange a glance, and as they do, Carlos realises that the two of them are a
very, very bad influence on each other.
They stop stroking him all at once, letting go, and it's a good thing they both grip hold of his wrists
again because Carlos bucks up almost immediately, crying out in desperation.
"Please," he gasps. "Please don't stop. I need you."
"We know," Kevin replies. "But didn't I say there was nothing divine about what we're going to
do to you..?"
"But don't worry," Cecil adds. "We'll give you everything you want. Everything you need. Relax.
You know you can trust us"
Merciful Einstein, what is this? Good double, bad double?
Because, if so, they should do it more. A lot more.
Carlos nods rather longer than he needs to. He does trust them. He trusts them above anything.
Trusts that he can be with them with both of them and it will be all right.
More than all right. Incredible. Even if they are so totally going to break him before this is over.
The other two let go of him after a pair of long, lingering looks and push up onto their knees,
starting to kiss over him and wow, he really could just watch them all night. It's like staring at
some beautifully-recursive, not-quite-mirror. Their hands move across each other, tracing identical
planes of skin, and Carlos wonders how long the two of them were thinking about this when they
were spending all that time arguing. All that time getting in each other's faces about anything and
everything.
But mostly about him. Which is ridiculously hot too.
And there aren't words for how badly he wants them in return. Carlos sits up, curling in close to
Cecil and Kevin, kissing wherever he can reach and then because he can starting to stroke
both of them at the same time.
"Yes," Kevin whispers, dropping his head back in delight, which is all the invitation Cecil needs to
start kissing the side of his neck.
"You like that?" Cecil murmurs.
"Yes," Kevin manages again, sounding suddenly a little out of his mind.
"You want us?"
"Oh yes. Both of you. Very, very badly."
"Good. Because you're with us now. You're safe with us."
Perhaps Cecil understands things about Kevin that even Carlos doesn't. Not yet. Or perhaps he
does, deep down, beyond what words can explain. Perhaps he has all along.
Cecil leans in close, whispering something to Kevin. Carlos can't quite catch what it is, but it
makes the man's eyes go dark with delight, and he suspects he'll find out very soon. And he's
right. All of a sudden, the other two are a flurry of movement, pushing Carlos back on the bed,
and before he knows it Kevin is on top of him, starting to stroke him again but slowly. Slowly.
Gloriously, agonisingly slowly.
"Please," Carlos murmurs. "Please."
"There aren't words for how badly I want this," Kevin says, and though he's looking at Carlos, the
statement is clearly meant for both of them.
"We know," Cecil replies, pressing in behind him, and OK, when did the man get hold of the
lubricant? Carlos isn't wholly sure, but he's clearly got it now, given that he's in the process of
applying it though not to himself. Kevin arches back against his double, who is now stroking
him firmly, and wow, that is hot to watch. Especially given that the two of them are right on top of
Carlos, pressed in close, and even more so when Kevin arches all the more, arm stretched up and
back to hold on to Cecil, head turned to kiss him.
The man really is very flexible. And utterly shameless, especially in bed.
He drops forward after a long moment, catching himself just before he falls on Carlos, grinning
again and then his eyes go darker than the void of space.
"Yes," Kevin gasps, and Carlos knows even though he can't quite see that Cecil must have just
pushed inside his double. The flicker in Cecil's eyes would give that away even if the flicker in
Kevin's didn't, and right now both of them look beyond what words can express.
"Please," Carlos says, staring up at them both, his own eyes shot full of desperation. "I need you.
I need you."
"You have us," Cecil tells him.
"You always did," Kevin adds.
Did he? Oh maybe he did. Well. That's insanely gratifying, really.
But he still needs them. Needs them right now.
He doesn't have to wait any longer, though, because with Cecil still pressed in close behind him
Kevin starts slowly sliding into Carlos, and and
"Oh yes," Carlos gasps, almost soundlessly. "Yes yes"
There is such a thing as perfection. There is. And this is it.
And in the end here he is, lying on his back with both his lovers on top of him, slowly but
surely bringing all of them towards physical and emotional ecstasy.
It's wonderful. There aren't words for how wonderful it is. Not all the words, in all the languages
alive, dead and unpronounceable combined. Carlos stares up at the two of them, as Cecil grips
his hand and holds on tight.
"You feel amazing," Cecil breathes in Kevin's ear, and Carlos can feel in turn just how Kevin
reacts to that.
"You're not so bad yourself," his double murmurs in reply. "I never thought you'd"
"You don't have to think about that," Cecil interrupts, but very gently. "You're here now. We
all are. That's what counts."
He's right, of course. Carlos knows it too. Knows he ought to be concerned maybe even
alarmed at how all this is going to work, but he isn't. Because he knows it is. Knows nothing
not even string theory, not even thermodynamics has ever felt so right.
You don't get certainty like that often in a lifetime. Rarely more than a handful of occasions. But
this? This is one of them.
The other certainty is that he's not going to last long like this. Not when they've already taken him
right to the brink between them, and not now he's got both of them on top of him, every
movement dragging him closer and closer to the bright edge of the universe.
"Yes," he whispers again, sounding utterly raptured. "Yes. Please."
Kevin manages to push a hand between them, starting to stroke Carlos once more, and it feels so
incredible that it knocks the air from his lungs.
"Do one thing for me?" Kevin asks, sounding like he's right on the brink himself though still
managing to look a tiny bit wicked nonetheless. "For both of us."
"Anything," Carlos replies, knowing he'd give them the whole world if it were possible.
"Say our names when you come. Scream them to the rafters. So we both know that you're ours
and that we are yours"
"And," Cecil adds, his words a hot whisper in Kevin's ear, and clearly meant for him, "that you
are ours."
That pretty much undoes Kevin on the spot. For a second that surely lasts a glorious infinity inside
the other man's head, he seems caught on the cusp of bliss, and then he falls, whole body going
suddenly tense as he comes. It means he's the first to cry out, though Carlos can't for the life of
him work out what language the man has slipped into.
It doesn't cause any demons to appear, though, and he sounds very happy, so it's probably still a
good thing.
It's certainly more than enough along with everything else to send Carlos over the edge as
well, pleasure and completion suddenly blazing through him, intense and wonderful. And though
the world has half-whited out, though the very fabric of reality really does feel as though it's
coming unravelled all over again, he still manages to make good on his promise.
"Kevin!" he cries out. "Cecil!"
Then Cecil is coming too, holding on to both of them as he does, tightening his grip as though
concerned the universe might very well tilt sideways under the sheer wonder of the moment,
and as though that connection between the three of them is everything.
He's right. It is.
And, one by one, they slowly collapse against each other, as the bliss starts to fade and a strange,
wonderful exhaustion sets in. It's accompanied by a silence that for a few moments none of
them dares break. They just lie there, curled in something of a tangle, revelling in the contact and
perhaps just a little afraid of what comes next.
"That was amazing," Cecil manages, finally.
"Tell me about it," Kevin agrees, a very contented smile crossing his face. "I I mean, just
wow."
"Takes a lot to render you incoherent," Carlos points out, very warmly.
"True," Kevin concedes. "But that? That was a lot."
He's not wrong.
They stay as they are for another moment, a tangle of breath and gentle touches and gradually
slowing heartbeats, until finally Cecil carefully pulls back, moving to lie down beside them.
As he does, Kevin also pulls back, letting Carlos roll onto his side where he can curl into Cecil,
before curling in as well behind him.
"I feel like I could sleep for an entire day," Kevin murmurs.
"Take as long as you need," Cecil tells him. "You're with us. You're safe."
Kevin curls in closer, arm around Carlos, both of them holding onto him, and Carlos can feel the
way the other man is drifting off to sleep. It sounds like a very lovely idea. But before he opts to
follow, he looks up at Cecil.
"Thank you," Carlos whispers, so heartfelt that he can hardly get the words out.
"You don't ever have to thank me," Cecil replies, kissing him on the forehead. "But you're
welcome. Now sleep. Sleep. I think we've all earned that."
He's quite correct, of course. He usually is.
And, in little more than moments safe, held, wanted and finally, utterly complete Carlos too
has drifted off.
Three who are two who are one.
When the universe gets it right it sure gets it right.
***
When Carlos wakes up, the first thing he's aware of is that he isn't alone.
He really isn't alone. He's lying half-draped across Cecil's chest, with Kevin curled in behind him,
an arm wrapped around his waist; both of them warm and wonderful and breathing softly, and for
a long moment Carlos just lies perfectly still, letting this moment sink in, letting it become etched
into his mind, wanting to remember every detail for the rest of his days.
"Hey, you," Cecil murmurs, kissing him on the forehead.
"Hey" Carlos replies. "I oh wow, I think you broke me"
"That was sort of the idea," Kevin says, tightening the arm around him just a little. "Was it good
breaking..?"
"Good?" Carlos repeats, hazily. "It was amazing."
It was more amazing than he has the words for. He's lying curled in bed with both of his lovers,
and it's more perfect than he can fathom. More perfect even than the moment when you finally
understand what valency really means, or why string theory needs all eleven dimensions to make
sense.
"What happens now?" Kevin asks, the slightest touch of hesitancy in his voice.
Cecil reaches out a little more, so as to pull them both in closer. "You stay here with us," he
replies. "Though not in bed forever because, as much as it is very lovely, we will have to get up at
some point. Plus Carlos can do some amazing things with bacon that you might have experienced
before but not in a long time. Breakfast is serious business for scientists."
"So I recall" Kevin says. "So you do actually want me to stay stay?"
"Of course we do," Carlos answers.
Kevin holds on a little tighter. "For real?"
"Forever," Cecil tells him. "You're a part of me, and you're a part of Carlos too. And I don't
think any of us wants to be incomplete any longer"
"I don't know what to say," Kevin whispers.
Carlos laughs. "That's a first."
"Oh, shush you," Kevin tells him, kissing the back of his neck.
And the way he curls in even tighter speaks volumes.
"We probably should get up" Cecil points out.
"Mmmm," Carlos agrees. "And jump in the shower."
Cecil laughs. "I don't think all three of us can go in at once."
There's an odd little pause.
"We could try, though," Kevin suggests.
"Yeah," Carlos agrees, grinning. "For science."
***
So they do. They do, and it turns out tessellation is a fine art.
And now it's a little while later. Carlos is making breakfast, whilst Cecil sits at the table, flicking
through the news on his phone and occasionally glancing out the window.
The reason for this is Kevin. The man has wandered out into the front garden and is now standing
there, hands in his pockets, staring up at the sun.
"Is he still doing it?" Carlos asks, stepping away from the stove for a moment to have a sip of
his coffee.
"Yeah," Cecil replies. "Do you know why?"
"It's a Desert Bluffs thing," Carlos says. "They're rather fond of the sun, which shouldn't come
as much of a surprise given recent events."
"How can he even stand to stare at it like that?"
"I don't even know. I never did."
Carlos pauses for a second, which makes Cecil look up at him. "What is it?" the other man
prompts.
"Can I ask you something?" Carlos says.
"Of course."
"What made you change your mind about him? And and not just change your mind but end
up well"
This inevitably brings up some very graphic memories of last night, and he knows he's blushing at
least a little.
Cecil smiles. It's a serious smile, but a genuine one. "It was out on the battlefield, before the
fighting. When we were talking to Derek Hartley. The moment Hartley told Kevin to kill me,
Kevin he just had this flicker in his eyes and I knew. I knew he'd refuse. And it was as
though everything just clicked in my mind. The way he was around you and the way he was
around me, and I just knew. And then he nearly got himself killed for us, and the thought of it,
the sudden fear at realising he might die"
"I know what you mean," Carlos replies, and it's still so strange, to be able to talk about this. To
be able to just say it and not have to worry. "When Hartley stabbed him it felt like the whole
world had stopped, and I realised I hadn't been so scared since since the afternoon you were
grabbed by Strexcorp. I realised both of you are my world, and that's that's OK, isn't it?"
"Yes," Cecil tells him. "And that's still strange to me but it is. It is OK."
"I'm never going to get over how adorable you two are," comes a soft voice from the doorway.
It's Kevin. Carlos isn't sure how long the man has been there, but perhaps it doesn't matter.
Judging from the look in his eyes, he's more than happy with however much he's overheard.
"Adorable?" Cecil repeats.
"Yes, adorable," Kevin replies, slipping easily into a chair opposite his double. "I could totally just
listen to you all day."
"If anyone is listening to anyone, it will be me listening to the two of you," Carlos says.
"Seriously, either of you on your own is mind-blowing, but both of you at once..?"
"Ooh, that sounds like a challenge to me" Kevin remarks, with a wicked little grin.
"I would have to agree," Cecil says, and oh dear, but he's got a pretty wicked look of his own.
"And one that might require quite a lot of repetition. You know for science."
"Oh, of course!" Kevin concurs, trying to pull off what is probably supposed to be a sage-looking
nod, albeit mixed with rather too much glee. "I remember how important repetition is for science."
"If the two of you don't stop it right now, breakfast is going to end up delayed," Carlos
interjects. "By quite some margin."
Both doubles fall silent. Carlos gives them a suspicious look and then goes over to the stove again.
The second his back is turned, there's rather a lot of giggling behind him.
He facepalms. "Oh, you two should have your own show"
***
Somehow, breakfast still happens and, as they're finishing it, Cecil's phone buzzes.
"It's a text," he tells them, looking at the screen. "It's from Cat."
"Cat?" Kevin says. "Oh, you mean Caitlin. Your sister."
"Yes," Cecil replies. "You haven't met, have you?"
Kevin shakes his head. "No. But I well. I should probably apologise in advance for all the stuff
you're going to realise I know about. Those Strexcorp intel dossiers were detailed." He
somehow manages to look a little guilty but only a little. "What does your sister have to say?"
Cecil gives him a slightly suspicious glance but doesn't comment further. "She's just checking up
on me. Says the town is already going back to normal. Apparently Janice went off to school with
Tamika this morning."
Exactly how you go from being a teenage revolutionary to needing to do your homework again,
Carlos isn't sure. But he figures it's probably for the best.
"Speaking of getting back to normal what are the two of you going to do?" he asks.
"That's a good question," Cecil replies, a flicker of sadness in his voice. "I'm a bit between jobs at
the moment although maybe I should call into the radio station and see if"
Perhaps on cue, he's interrupted by a clank from the front door: the sound of something being
posted through the mail slot. Looking intrigued, Cecil gets up and goes to see what it is, returning
with a vibrant scarlet envelope and an expression of intense surprise.
"Whoa, what is that?" Kevin asks.
"This looks like one of the messages from Management," Cecil tells him.
"Management?"
"Yes. Management. The whatever-they-were who used to run the radio station before Strexcorp
bought it out. We never saw them, but they communicated using envelopes like these. I should
probably"
And, with a nervous flicker in his eyes, Cecil opens it, pulling out a sheet of paper inscribed with
elaborate cursive lettering, and a second, slightly smaller scarlet envelope. He pauses, reading the
letter and then smiles.
"Is it good news?" Carlos asks, hopefully.
"Yes," Cecil says, sounding suddenly overjoyed. "Yes, it is good news. Station Management is
back, and they they want me back as well."
Carlos feels a sudden rush of relief. Even given everything else that's been happening, Cecil just
hasn't been right since he had to go off-air. "Oh, that is good news," he says.
Kevin smiles as well Kevin smiling is not exactly unusual but there's a flicker of sadness in his
voice as he speaks. "I'm happy for you," he says. "I guess I should probably try to work out
what I'm going to do"
"I may have an answer to that," Cecil tells him, with a smile of his own. "Management also said
that, if I was happy to I should give you this." He waves the second scarlet envelope. "And I'm
happy to."
He hands it over, which makes Kevin's expression blend to one of surprise. "Oh," he says, staring
at the envelope for a moment. "You know what's in it?"
Cecil nods. "I know what's in it."
So Kevin opens the envelope and, yes, he does so using the knife he's wearing at his back again,
and maybe that's something Carlos will have to get used to pulling out a sheet of paper also
inscribed in heavily cursive lettering.
"Oh!" Kevin exclaims, staring at the paper as if daring it to change its content, or perhaps just
not quite believing that it says what it says. "Oh! They've they've offered me a job. They say
they think there's scope for a joint show and they want us to give it a try. And you you're OK
with that?"
Cecil nods again. "You and I let's just say we got off to a bad start. But I think maybe we have
a few things in common and given what happened last night I think it could prove to be very
enjoyable"
Kevin beams at him. "Then I'd be delighted."
"Can I come?" Carlos can't help asking. "Just this once. I'll settle for listening to you in future but
the first time I really want to see this."
Which is quite an understatement. The two of them on air at the same time? He's never going to
get any work done!
***
Going back to the radio station is beyond strange. The last time they were here was that fateful
afternoon when Cecil outright called for an uprising, and he and Carlos had to make a run for it.
The place doesn't seem to have changed much, although it's quite a hub of activity: predominately
interns, dashing back and forth trying to get everything back to normal. As Cecil and Kevin come
in through the door, quite a lot of them turn to look, and it's clear they're relieved and concerned
all at once.
Carlos guesses it will take a while for them to get used to having Kevin around still, especially
those of them who were here when Strexcorp was in charge.
It's getting close to air time, and according to an intern Management wants things back to
normal post-haste, so they head on down towards Cecil's studio. They reach the door, and Cecil
pushes it open
and freezes.
"Kevin?" he says, voice very carefully flat.
"Yes, Cecil?"
"Why is my recording studio covered in blood?"
Kevin somehow manages to look a little guilty. But only a little. "Oh, that?" he says. "That was
me. I was just trying to make the place feel more homey!"
There's a short pause. "Kevin?" Cecil says again.
"Yes?"
"It doesn't feel more homey. No blood in the recording studio. And no blood in the house. And
we're going to have to have a little talk about these proclivities of yours because quite frankly
they're a bit weird."
Carlos is trying very hard not to laugh, although he's mildly concerned it's hysteria rather than
amusement.
"Awww," Kevin pouts. "They're not weird. They're just"
"Kevin. They're weird."
"Oh, fine."
It's at this point that perhaps mercifully an intern comes hurrying down the corridor towards
them. "Cecil!" the young woman calls. "Cecil, don't oh. Ooops. You already looked in there,
didn't you?"
"I'm afraid so," Cecil replies.
"Ah sorry about that," the intern says. "We've been trying to sort all the rooms out but we
haven't got round them all yet. You might want to use the one at the end of the corridor. It's in
rather better shape."
"Thank you," Cecil answers. "We'll do that ah"
"Janelle," the intern tells him, helpfully. "I'm new!"
"What happened to actually, no, don't tell me" Cecil mutters, looking like he doesn't quite
dare ask.
Still getting a few alarmed looks from Intern Janelle, they head on down to the studio at the end of
the corridor, which is entirely free of blood and therefore much more acceptable.
There's going to be a lot more of this, Carlos knows, as the two doubles prepare to go live. It's
inevitable, of course. They have a lot in common, but they're also amazingly varied, and perhaps
that's the great joy about them.
Well, that, and the thing they can do where no. No. He'll save that thought for tonight.
In the meantime there is this. There is a studio, in a radio station, in a town, and there are two
men sitting on opposite sites of a table, microphones at the ready, entirely identical and completely
different at exactly the same time.
Chiral. His chiral lovers. What more can a scientist ask?
Familiar lights flash on and they're live.
"The world is vast and incredible, and full of more mystery, more terror, and more beauty than
any of us could ever know," Cecil starts out.
"And yet, it's the little things: the little moments, the little similarities, the little differences, that
impact on us the most," Kevin completes.
They look at each other and smile, and then speak in unison: familiar words that nevertheless take
Carlos' breath away.
"Welcome to Night Vale."
End Notes
So that whole 'one-chapter-a-day' thing kinda fell down... Shush! Time doesn't exist! In
the end, I just decided to post the rest all at once. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of gal... ;-)
If you've enjoyed this, please tell your friends! I don't have a Tumblr or anywhere that I
link my fics - aside from my Twitter feed - so I'd be eternally grateful if you think this fic is
worth a rec elsewhere! <3
And yes, I do have some plans for a potential sequel. I am, however, going to wait until
after the Two-Year Anniversary episode is released, to see where canon goes, before I get
started on any serious plotting.
...And by 'wait,' I mean 'curl into a ball of terror punctuated by occasional squeaking
noises...'
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!