Chapter Text
Voices, soft and indistinct, came first. The words were lost amid the steady hum of machines, beeping and buzzing that seemed like it should have been familiar. People she didn’t know spoke nearby in hushed tones as though they didn't want to be overheard.
Then came the creeping sense of just how dark it was. Her eyes felt heavy, and nothing happened when she tried to open them. She fought against the wave of cloying anxiety that threatened to choke her. She should have been used to the terror of losing herself, what with how the Circus had played with her from the moment she'd put on that cursed headset.
Other details began to trickle in slowly. The fact that she was laying on her back, the mattress beneath her stiff but softer than her usual bed. The blanket that was draped over her was pulled to her chest and scratched at her skin. And it felt heavier, too, substantial in a way most things didn't anymore.
It set her on edge, prickles of unease making goosebumps rise on her skin.
She didn't even remember going to bed the night before. The last thing she remembered…
A crack, the very world around her groaning in tortured dismay. The ground tilting beneath her feet as it was yanked out of place. Screams, one pained and the other terrified, her throat raw. Her arms closing around someone, a burst of pain, an arm around her waist. Then falling, falling, falling-
The voices stopped. She could hear how the beeps had grown faster, in time with how her heart was racing in her chest.
“Are you awake?” That was a man's voice, suddenly near her side.
Don't, something in her head cried. Accompanying it was a squeeze in her chest and her throat tightening with an intensity that surprised her.
“We understand this must be disorienting,” a woman said, her tone gentle, almost soothing. “We want to help you. Can you give us a sign that you hear us?”
It was a struggle to try to open her eyes, her very body fighting against her. And even when she managed, her vision was fuzzy, her eyes aching. The light burned where it wasn’t blocked by the two people leaning over her.
Two… people. Two people who were shaped like actual real people.
Her heart clenched even as relief struck her hard. She felt sick.
“Welcome back,” the woman said, her lips moving smoothly. There was no lag, no disconcerting sense of lip synching that didn’t quite match with the words spoken. The woman smiled down at her, brown eyes soft and understanding behind square glasses. “It’s going to take some time to readjust, but we’re here to help you. Can you tell us your name?”
The grip on her heart squeezed anew. The name she’d known herself as ever since putting on the headset came to her lips. She even opened her mouth to say it, only to freeze when another came to her mind instead. A name that felt like it fit in a way the other never had, one she’d had for every one of her short twenty five years of existence.
But when she opened her mouth to say it, nothing came out.
Don’t, that feeling cried again. Don’t tell them.
Her eyes stung, so she closed them against the harsh lights.
“Easy, it’s alright,” the woman soothed. Fingers settled against her hand, and the contact burned. It was fire racing beneath her very flesh, goosebumps crawling across her skin, it was wrong, wrong, wrong-
A breath shuddered through her chest, and the touch retreated.
Footsteps moved away from her bedside, and when she dared to pry open her eyes, the man had moved to the other side of the room where another man sat at a computer. They discussed something too quiet for her to make out, no matter how hard she strained to listen.
The woman at her side noticed her wandering attention, smiling patiently. “My name is Emily. I’m part of the team that was sent to retrieve you.”
The fear eased just enough that when she opened her mouth to speak, she managed to draw a deep breath, and her words weren’t strangled. “Where are the others?”
The sound of her voice was strange to hear without the underlying static that hummed in the Circus. She hadn’t realized she had missed it, even if the real world came with its own share of white noise. Even if it did tremble and make her throat itch.
Emily’s smile grew brittle, her eyes shifting. The men stilled, both turning to observe her, suddenly finding her far more interesting than whatever they had been discussing.
Unease ran chilled fingers down her spine and she swallowed down the spike of nausea that came with it. She felt flayed beneath their stares, something setting her teeth on edge. Why could nothing ever be straightforward or simple? Why couldn’t the answer be that they were just down the hall, having just as strange a time adjusting to being back in reality?
She felt her chest rise as her lungs pulled in a deep breath, a wave of dizziness crashing over her for a moment. Then it settled, calm blanketing her mind. She needed to focus, even if she wasn’t sure why.
“We have a few questions for you first, before we can show you to your friends,” Emily said slowly. “We have a procedure to follow to ensure the best results for everyone involved.”
“What kind of procedure?” She glanced around the room, fear cold and heavy in her stomach. It was plain and empty besides the cot she laid on, an old desk shoved to one corner that bore a sleek laptop and a stack of files. There were a few cupboards, and a counter with a sink, but no charts or anything else you'd expect to see in a doctor's office.
The only thing she had on her was a heart monitor clipped to her finger that beeped in time with her quickening pulse, attached to a monitor she could see over her shoulder.
Her eyes caught on her own sweater, a worn grey hoodie she'd pulled on that fateful morning she'd left her home to go exploring. She'd owned it for years; the fabric at her left shoulder was fraying where she'd had to stitch over a tear. It had gotten caught on an exposed nail while exploring an old church a year or two ago. The sleeves were just slightly too long, tattered along the hems, a few loose threads brushing her knuckles. She could feel her bracelet bunched beneath her sleeves, the tightly woven strings soft from age. Even her nails were the same; the dark lacquer chipped the worst on her right pointer finger from getting it caught while forcing open the door to the office where she'd found that stupid headset.
The details were too perfect, too exact, for it to be something cooked up by an AI. It had to be real.
Hysteria bubbled up in her, her eyes watering. This was insane. How could it finally be real, after everything she'd been through?
A tear in the very fabric of the world, the ground shuddering beneath her feet. A snap, and the whole thing cracked apart, so deep she could see past even the Cellar.
“G-g-go!”
Then the screams, and she was running, desperate, oh so desperate-
Pain pressed at her temples. Something rose, gripping that hysteria and pulling it down, squashing it out of reach and leaving her mind clear enough to think.
She was out of the Circus. This felt too real, too tangible and specific to be anything but reality. She was seeing humans, actual people, instead of hollow NPCs - people who looked far too complex and detailed to be mapped onto the mannequins used in the adventures.
The real question now was what was she going to do? And what did these people want from her?
That wariness crept back into her as Emily adjusted her glasses. “We have some questions we'd like you to answer, as well as ensuring you've readjusted now that you're here. Think of it like a check-up.”
“A… check-up?” She didn't want to be touched or poked or prodded. She just wanted to go home.
“Nothing invasive, I assure you.” Emily glanced over her shoulder, and the man standing by the desk made his way over. “We just want to make sure that you're healthy and that nothing is wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong,” she countered immediately.
“Then why don't you stand?” the man said, his voice cool as he observed her with critical eyes. He crossed his arms, and it made her angry to be so summarily dismissed as incapable.
She pushed herself up, her movements sluggish. Her limbs shook and trembled as she swung her legs over the edge, her head suddenly swimming. Black spots burst across her vision and she had to close her eyes to swallow back the nausea. Was this what wearing a VR headset for God knows how long did to a person?
“There will be an adjustment period,” Emily said. “Everyone we've spoken to so far has had some trouble at first getting moving again. Take your time.”
“I want to see them.” She turned her head to look at them, watching the way Emily shifted and glanced again to the man at her side. He must be the one in charge of her case, or whatever they were calling it.
“You will, shortly.”
The urge to get to her feet was pushing her forward. She planted her foot on the floor, then the other, the tiles cold beneath her socked feet and sending a shock through her system. Then, one hand on the bed for support, she pushed up onto her feet. Her legs didn't seem to get the memo though as they sharply buckled beneath her.
She promptly faceplanted. Pain greeted her, painting her vision with stars. Her teeth rattled.
“Will you let us help you?” Emily asked. Neither had approached, simply watching her struggle.
Her next breath hurt, her chest aching from the impact. When she tried to gather her arms beneath her to push up, they felt disconnected, like they wouldn't respond the way she wanted them to. It took a few tries for her to manage to get even back to her knees, her whole body trembling from the effort. And pushing herself to her feet was even worse. She had to use the bed for support, her legs wobbling like jello the moment she tried to use them. At least she had the satisfaction of not needing their help.
“I'm fine,” she said through clenched teeth, sweat beading at her temples. Every movement felt like it took twice the effort it should have, like she was trying to move someone else's body from within.
“They're ready for her,” the man at the computer said. His voice was deep. The other two shared a glance, and then Emily was smiling and walking toward her.
She didn't trust the way Emily's smile never quite met her eyes.
“We have questions for you,” Emily repeated, reaching for her shoulder, though she stopped when she shied back. “One of our team members will be asking you a few things about what you experienced. I just need to take you a few doors down the hall, where he's been meeting one by one with your friends. Then we can let you see them again.”
To keep our stories straight, she told herself.
She let Emily herd her toward the door, her steps uneven but growing steadier the further she walked. It should've been simpler than this to readjust to reality; somehow, real life felt more like trying to pilot a video game character than being trapped in an actual game.
Emily did, thankfully, take it slow and allowed her enough time to get the hang of it. By the time Emily was letting her into another bland room, she was confident enough to not hold onto the wall to stay upright. She didn't want to meet anyone, or see the others again for that matter, swaying on her feet like she was drunk out of her mind.
The room that she was guided into was nearly empty aside from a table with a couple chairs pulled up to it, a sad and drooping plant abandoned in the corner, and a mirror lining one wall. The blinds were drawn, leaving the room dim even beneath the buzzing strip light hanging above her.
But her eyes caught on that mirror, leaving her frozen for a moment.
“Jeremy will be with you in a moment to ask those questions,” Emily was saying behind her. “I'll be right back. Feel free to take a seat, make yourself comfortable.”
She barely heard her, nor when the door clicked shut as Emily left her alone. But the moment she was alone, she was moving again.
She stepped toward the mirror as though drawn, even as her heartbeat skipped and stuttered in her chest. The need to know, to be sure it wasn't some cruel trick despite everything, was a physical presence that compelled her. (She ignored the part of her that screamed not to, to stay ignorant, squashing it down, down, down.)
Her eyes stung as she finally saw herself. Her real, true, tangible self. No cursed headset, no jester hats with their twinkling bells, no pinwheels or skin as pale as snow, no jester. Just her. The same mousey hair, the sad brown eyes, the narrow face.
The relief hit her hard enough to wrench a gasp from her lips, even as something alien in her head cried with… with fear, confusion, anguish. That was her looking back at her, as she had always meant to be, and yet something about her reflection didn’t feel right…. Like everything had been moved just slightly to the left. It made her skin crawl with discomfort the longer she stared at herself.
Nausea, hot and thick and slimy, crawled up from her stomach. She recoiled from the mirror, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside the trash can, clutching it as her body heaved. There was nothing to bring up which brought her no relief. Her eyes burned, a sob rattled through her chest. She didn't understand; all she knew was there was a pulsing ache behind her eyes and a pain lancing through her heart, and she wanted it to stop.
That floaty feeling lessened slightly, just for a moment, allowing her breathing to slow and her mind to settle, as she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. She could feel how her hands trembled and how tears were still dripping down her cheeks.
The door opened, and she heard footsteps enter before there was a soft gasp.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Emily said, moving nearer even as she cringed back.
Don't trust them, her instincts demanded, pressing in at the edge of her thoughts. She listened, even as she wiped at her cheeks and pushed herself back up onto her feet. Her legs were still wobbly, but it was easier this time as she moved back to the chair.
Emily was watching her, eyes so frustratingly sympathetic, while Jeremy laid a handful of files out on the table. All but one had a picture paperclipped to it, faces she didn't recognize, with names penciled in. The last one was blank, and it sent a prickle down her spine as she stared at it, innocently tucked beside hers. It was the thickest, almost twice the size of the second largest, that one bearing a picture of a man far older than the other young faces peering up at her.
She tore her eyes away from them as Emily and Jeremy took their seats.
“We understand you've been through a lot,” Jeremy said. He couldn't have been much older than the man on the file, his eyes dark and his black hair going grey at the temples. He studied her with a critical eye, leaned forward so his elbow rested on the table between them. “We hope to offer you our sincerest apologies for what you've endured. What we hope to do now is to get a better understanding of what exactly happened. We know you broke into one of our facilities and came into contact with some of our equipment.”
She swallowed, spreading her fingers across the metal, feeling how the cold prickled her skin. Her stomach was knotting itself.
“Would you like some water?” Emily asked, soft and gentle to Jeremy's cool steel.
“Please.”
Emily rose, slipping out into the hall and closing the door behind herself.
“We know about the game,” Jeremy continued, tapping his fingers against the files. “We've spoken to almost everyone else that found themselves inside it. We just want to hear your side.”
“Am I in trouble? Should I have a lawyer right now?” she asked. Her voice wobbled and her throat was so tight she was surprised she got the words out at all.
“I'm fairly certain what you've been through is punishment enough for a little breaking and entering,” he said with a faint smile, like there was a joke she was missing. “We won't be contacting the police at this stage, but if you cooperate, it will make this easier for everyone involved.”
“Right…”
Alarms were blaring in the back of her mind, her skin prickling.
“You entered the game when there were five other active players,” he said.
He spread the files a little further apart, highlighting all the pictures pinned to them. If she looked at them long enough, she could probably make a good guess as to which one was each of her friends. She just didn’t want to look at that blank one any longer than she had to - it raised too many uncomfortable questions that she didn’t want to touch.
When she didn’t speak, he sighed to himself, shaking his head. “We’ve done our research on each person who happened to get mixed up with this whole game situation. I know it must have been… unsettling to experience, as all of you have been reluctant to speak with us. But this is important, and not just for you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything you can tell us.” His chair creaked as he leaned back.
Don’t tell them anything, her mind whispered. Don’t trust them.
“We know the basics of what the game itself contained. The transition to the digital world, the lack of an exit, the… glitches.”
Was that what they were calling people going mad to the point of abstraction? She wanted to laugh. Those were people, once.
A pang cut through her chest.
“We also know about the AI running the program,” he continued.
She felt herself still. Her eyes shifted to the blank folder brimming with paper that she suddenly hadthe urge to tear apart. It barely felt like she was breathing.
“We want to know more about what happened with it. An AI like that… should never have been left unattended for so long.” His tone pitched toward sympathetic as he lifted his hand, palm up to her. “We want to know what went wrong.”
Don't. Don't, please, her thoughts begged.
She took a breath, steadying herself as she looked up into his cold eyes. “Where do I even start?”