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falseroar · 7 years ago

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Can You Wake Up? Part 8: Definitely Not a Date with Markiplier

((Here are links to Part 7: You Don’t Seem Happy and Part 1: Great Things. I regret nothing about this title.))

Among the rush of words that came out of your mouth might have been a few new, very creative swear words. The armrest of the bench dug into your back as you tried to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Oh, did I startle you?” Dark asked with a smile. He leaned against the bench with one arm draped over the back, his eyes not leaving your face. How long had he been there? Had he just been watching you this whole time?

Looking around for someone, anyone else, you saw the Host standing on the other side of the fountain, head inclined as if listening to the water fall from the statue of Tiny Box Tim, which admittedly was just a square sitting on a column. At least you weren’t alone with Dark, although it was hard to tell if the Host would or could do anything if Dark tried something.

“I merely wished to check on you, Y/N. I know how difficult it must be, suddenly remembering how he shot you.”

“…How did you know that?”

“The look on your face before you left. It was the same one we—you gave our dear Colonel when you woke up.”

We.

Sensing something in your expression, Dark quickly changed tact. “Mark seems to think you may need some…time away from us. He has already called for a ride. Of course, it’s your choice whether to go with him or stay, Y/N. It’s always your choice.”

“Go where?” you asked warily. Going anywhere with this Mark was bad enough, but Dark seemed so…calm about it.

“To meet some friends of his, and to try and jog your memory, I gather.” Dark scowled, blue and red afterimages appearing around his face before he reined them in with a crack of his neck. “I would understand, after what happened with Wil and Google earlier, if you needed some…perspective. And it would be only for as long as you wish. I’ll give you all the time you need.”

Did you really want to go with Mark? You glanced back at the house and felt an involuntary shudder at what you had seen there, that vision of the thing that looked like Mark. Maybe some time away wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You spotted the window with the pink and yellow curtains again. “Where is Wilford? Maybe I should…”

You trailed off. Should what, talk to him? Would he even understand? How much did Wilford even remember of what happened at the house? Besides, you didn’t even understand yourself why the sight of that gun had affected you so badly, or maybe you just didn’t want to think about the reason.

You did not see how Dark smiled at your uncertainty. “Chasing imaginary stories with those Jims, I’m sure. His mind does not hold onto anything that bothers him, not anymore. That little incident earlier is already just a joke to him.”

“What did happen with Google?” you asked, turning on Dark. “Someone told him I wasn’t supposed to leave the infirmary.”

“An unfortunate error. I’m afraid these newer models aren’t as stable as the original, although Google seems to believe his newest update should fix that. We gave those commands with your safety in mind, Y/N, and for good reason. Just look at what happened earlier.”

“Everything was going fine until then!” Well, as “fine” as any of this could be. “Just because I can’t remember this life you and Mark think I had doesn’t mean I’m a child or something. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, really?” Dark’s smile became something else and you felt the air around you turn heavy, oppressive. “I don’t know what you remember from the other side of the mirror, but here you’ll find that no one except for us even know your name. Every trace of the district attorney disappeared with what happened in that house 85 years ago. No one is looking for you, Y/N. You have no friends, no family, except for us.”

His words dug in, piercing you. Where were your friends and family in all of this? You hadn’t given much time to the thought just because of all of the crazy stuff going on since the accident, but now…

Dark reached forward and placed his hand on the bench next to your own, so that you were almost, but not quite, touching. “I just want what’s best for you, Y/N. If that means letting you see this for yourself, then so be it.”

You pulled away and saw a flicker, a shadow of movement in him too fast to make out clearly before he smiled again, but that flicker was enough to turn your guilt into fear, and then anger.

“Shut up!”

Dark sat back. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t know what’s best for me, and even if you did you wouldn’t care.” We, he’d said earlier. Yeah, you’d seen how long that lasted. “You threw me—the district attorney away the second they weren’t useful to you anymore. Or did you think that was for my ‘safety’ too?”

You stood, staring down at Dark who merely watched your outburst with something bordering on amusement. “If going with Mark is what it takes to prove to both of you that you’re wrong, then fine!”

“So you’re coming with me?”

Oh. You turned to see Mark standing at a bend in the path next to one of the hedges, looking surprised but happy. You really hadn’t planned for him to hear that.

“That’s great, Y/N! I’d…well, I’d hoped, but I know this has been a lot for you.” Mark smiled. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

Crap. And it wasn’t like you could just take it back in front of Dark, who made a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and produced a cellphone from his pocket. “I thought as much. Use this when you’re ready to come back and I’ll get you.”

You took the cellphone warily, watching Dark for any sign of anger but seeing nothing. He was taking this surprisingly well, considering what you knew about him. Almost like…

“Great!” Mark said, after scoffing at Dark’s words. “Then it’s a date then.”

“We are not calling it that,” you said out of reflex, not really paying attention anymore. “Give me a second, okay?”

Mark and Dark were already too engrossed in name calling and flipping each other off to notice as you walked over to the fountain. After a second of pretending to be admiring the Tiny Box Tim statue (seriously, it was just a block of stone with eyes on it), you said quietly so that the other two would not hear, “How much of that was planned?”

“The Host cannot answer that question.”

Which wasn’t the same as not knowing, you thought to yourself.

The Host bent at the waist to sniff at some flowers you didn’t recognize and said, “The Host can say that leaving may be the best option for Y/N at this time. The Host can warn Y/N that good intentions can still lead to pain.”

Before you could ask what that was supposed to mean, Mark was at your side saying, “Come on, Y/N! I have a surprise for you, you’ll love it!”

You followed Mark around the outside of the house to the front drive, where a familiar white van sat idling.

“Is that the Barrel?”

Mark nodded, watching your reaction carefully.

“What if I had said no?”

“Eh, I needed some things anyways. Besides, I thought the Barrel might bring back some good memories, and if that didn’t work then I would have unleashed my secret weapon,” Mark said, beaming as he rushed to the door and opened it with a flourish. “See?”

The man inside looked out with surprise, clearly not expecting Mark to open the door just then.

“Tyler?”

“Wha—No, not him!” Mark looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“The TV came unplugged, I was just fixing it.” Tyler jumped down and smiled at you, but you were distracted by the golden blur that slipped by him and ran right up to you like she was greeting an old friend.

“Chica!”

Chica snorfed at your feet and bounded around you, her tail wagging so much that it whapped against your legs a few times. You wasted no time before petting and fussing over her, of course.

“Hey,” Tyler said, once Chica had calmed down a little bit. “Mark told me about your situation. I don’t know if you remember me…”

Remember? You decided to go with the safe option and said, “Yeah, you’re Tyler, one of Mark’s friends. I’ve seen you in some of his videos.”

Tyler glanced at Mark for help and Mark cleared his throat. “Tyler’s gone through a few names, but I think he meant if you remembered him from back when he was Benjamin, my butler.”

You froze, looking from one to the other. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Tyler said, slipping back into his accent from the Who Killed Markiplier videos for just a second before he shrugged and smiled again. “It is good to see you again, Y/N.”

Dark remained sitting on the bench, left only with the sound of the fountain and the Host’s quiet narration.

“Y/N gets into the van, choosing to sit in the back so that they can be with Chica. Mark insists on driving, after criticizing Tyler for readjusting the driver’s seat. Y/N is thinking about…hm. The Host considers that Dark is taking Y/N leaving well and reasons that he must be sure that their time with Markiplier will work in his favor.”

Dark smiled to himself, still looking in the direction you went. The dark aura around him expanded, filling the entire area with a ringing and the shift and creak of wood that had nothing to do with the bench beneath him. The red and blue afterimages spread, and for a brief moment there was a flickering shadow of him screaming, but he killed that with a swift thought.

“He’s taking them in that ridiculous van? It’s a wonder they even make it out of the driveway.” His tone did not suggest that just a moment before he had paled at the news that Tyler had brought Chica along.

Mark was always so sure of himself, always had been. He couldn’t even see when he was being his own worst enemy until it was already too late.

“How long until he slips and gives himself away?”

The Host tilted his head, as if listening to something besides the gently falling water of the fountain. After a minute he declared, “Markiplier has already made his first mistake. Y/N knows something is wrong.”

What you had been thinking about, what the Host could not or would not say, was Wilford. “The look on your face before you left,” Dark had said, the same one the district attorney gave him after he shot them. Would…would Wilford have recognized it too?

You strained to remember how he had looked before you ran out of the kitchen but came up with nothing before Chica whined and leaned heavily against you until you scratched behind her ears. Sitting in the back with her, listening to the thrum and rattle of the van, it was calming in a way. You were close to dozing off when you glanced to the front and saw Mark’s eyes in the rearview mirror, watching you, and the thoughts nagging at the back of your mind rushed forward.

Why did he think the Barrel would bring back good memories? How could he expect you to have any memories of it at all, if you’d been trapped in a mirror like they said? Why did Chica act like she knew you, if this was your first time meeting her?

Mark caught your expression, and you had no trouble reading the guilt all over Mark’s face even as he tried to pretend like he was focused on the road.

“Mark, what are you not telling me?”

((End of Part 8. Thank you for reading! So, it sounded like people were okay with moving on to the next part. I still have that one-shot hanging around, so I might save it in case I start to fall behind on writing.

Link to Part 9: Mark Tries to Explain

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @determinedrevolutionary @cherrybomb-jaguar @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork ))

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #darkiplier #wkm mark #wkm district attorney #can you wake up #chica is the best secret weapon #he is a manipulator #fanfic

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