Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"And with that, dear listeners, let’s go to the— …oh, my. Look at that. Listeners, there is a black — almost indigo — vortex that has formed along my studio wall. Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful! I can’t leave you, as our show is not yet over, but…there must be something beyond this something, Night Vale. I must see what it is! I must go! I will try not to be long, listeners. I will try not to be long…"

In something of a trance, Cecil wandered over to the large indigo pool on his wall. He dipped his fingertips in, cool dark liquid seeming to suck at them. Before he could gather his senses and yank his hand from the gorgeous (but admittedly dangerous) vortex he found himself being dragged in, forearm and upper arm and head and torso and feet, all in just a few seconds. Cecil could almost swear he saw a figure darker than the shadows from the corner of his eye. He hardly noticed it between the vortex tossing him around and the violent churning in his stomach- but then the figure leapt out. He screamed and tried to kick out, dark purple tentacles bursting though the back of his shirt without him realizing and lashing at the attacker. All he could see of his assailant was long, sharp teeth, gleaming dangerously in the faint light. Hands closed around his neck- but then the figure was gone, ripped away by the vortex.  The radio host shuddered and, all of a sudden, he spun out onto the floor of an unfamiliar radio station. He jumped up with a cry, trying to wipe the blood out of his long black hair.

"Ugh! Gods, what is this stuff?!" 

As he frantically tried to wring out his crimson-tinted hair his fingers encountered something hard. 

"What the-"  He tugged it out and recoiled in shock. "A tooth?!" 

Cecil dropped the small white object, horrified.  But then he spotted a familiar neon sign, reading "ON AIR" in comfortingly normal capital letters. It was dark, but Cecil spotted a headset and walked carefully over to it. He flipped the switch to turn on the microphone and sighed happily as the sign began to hum and gleam red. Then, the direness of his situation set in and he began to speak. 

"Hello? Hello? Night Vale? What is this studio? What is this damnable studio? Night Vale? I do not know if you can hear me. This is Cecil, and I do not know where I am. It is clearly a radio studio, but the walls are covered in blood, and instead of buttons and dials on the soundboard, there is just animal viscera, glistening under the green LED lights. I hope this microphone works." A chilling thought occurred to him. "Am I in hell?" 

Perhaps his mysterious attacker had killed him, after all.

"Dana? Dana, can you hear me? Listeners, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please contact the Sheriff's Secret Police. There is so much blood, it is seeping into my shoes!" Cecil stared despairingly at the hot pink sandals, which were soaked red and shiny with blood. "There are - oh, masters of us all, no! - teeth scattered across the floor. The window into the control booth is shattered and there is a swath of skin and a fistful of long clumping hair hanging from a sharp glass point! I do not know if this is even Night Vale. I know that I can hear the sandstorm raging outside. There is a low buzz and deep hum that might be my own heart ready to tear itself from my chest in horror or grief. I cannot know which. There is a photo, a single photo of a man on the desk here. He is not tall or short, not thin or fat. His hair and nose are like mine, but his eyes... his eyes are black as obsidian and his smile- no. It is not a smile! He must be wicked, this man! Dear Night Vale, please pray in your bloodstone circle for me and pray, too, that no one should ever have to meet this vicious wretch of a man. I want to be home, Night Vale!"  A sob almost escaped his lips, but he swallowed it down. "Oh, Cecil, you fool! The vortex... The vortex is gone. Oh, gods, it's gone. Okay. Dear listeners, from this vile, vile place, I leave you to your prison- I must get home somehow- but before I go, because I am a radio professional and it is sitting right here on this blood-spattered desk, I give you the weather." 

As the song began to play, he ran out. Fortunately, it was a single straight hallway to the exit doors. He sighed, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the storm.

Chapter Text

All three eyes squinted tightly shut, he walked on with arms out in front of him.  I hope this is Night Vale, he thought desperately. He could walk to Carlos' lab from here, and it was much closer than his apartment. Hopefully, the scientist would take him in. A long while later, his grasping hands closed around the handles of the door. Feeling a lull in the wind, he dared to open his eyes and pull them open. He burst in and slammed the doors shut behind him. 

"Hello?" a familiar caramel voice called from up the stairs.

"Kevin?" Carlos ran down, eyes wide and expectant, but stopped short when he saw Cecil.  "What the hell? Who are you?"

"It's me... C-Cecil... The radio host?"

"I know full well who the radio host is, and it's not you."  Carlos- not Carlos? - stared disapprovingly. "Now where. is. Kevin."

Cecil could only stare at him, confused and, as much as he hated to say it, heartbroken. 

"Carlos?"

"That isn't me! What's wrong with you? Go back to wherever you came from and bring me back my boyfriend."

"I- what? What's going... What's going on?"

"Get out. Go back to wherever you came from." Cecil felt his knees give out and crumpled against the wall, vision blurring with tears.

  "Wait. No, don't cry," the Carlos-double said quickly, rushing down the stairs to help Cecil up. "You look too much like him for me to see you, whatever you are, upset."

"Sorry," Cecil replied, cheeks flaming with humiliation. "I'll... I'll just go."

"Don't, not in this storm. Do you even know where you are?"  "No idea..."

"Desert Bluffs. Are you from Night Vale?"

"Yeah..."

"I could've guessed." 

"How do I get back?"

"You don't. We don't know how."

"What? But... I have to get home." 

"I don't know if you can, and I'm sorry about that. You can stay here for now, okay? I'm Diego."

Cecil smiled gratefully.

"Cecil. Thank you."

  "Sure. Now come upstairs, the wind is dying down and I don't think the Strex workers will like a radio host who isn't taking a bottle of pills a day." 

"The wind is dying down? Maybe I can get h-"

"They won't let you out. You have to have the right paperwork and they won't let you go."

Cecil felt his heart sink. His stomach twisted into knots and his throat closed. 

"No, please tell me you're lying..."

"I'm really sorry. You can stay here if you want."

He nodded and followed him upstairs.  It was almost a carbon copy of Carlos' lab, down to the colors of the flasks bubbling away in the corner. The only difference was the scientists themselves. Whereas Carlos and his team were perpetually exhausted and frustrated but happy all the same, this group looked overworked and half-dead.  Someone glanced his way and gave him a loopy smile. 

"Hi, Kevin, did you come to see Diego?"

Diego sighed.  "Genevieve, wake up. It isn't Kevin. I don't know where he his or who this one is, but he's from Night Vale, so I think that might be where Kevin is." The young woman snapped to attention, staring at Cecil.

  "Get him out! What if he sees?"

"Gen, there's nothing here to see. We moved it, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."  Diego led Cecil through the maze of tables and stands, up a flight of stairs, and down a hall full of what appeared to be apartments. 

"Here. You can stay here until you can get home. Kevin lives here and if you break anything I will send Strex in on you. Evening broadcast is in two hours, be there."

  Cecil nodded and slipped inside.  It looked remarkably like his apartment at home, only with a camera mounted in the corner.  He hissed under his breath and instinctually drew away- ever since he was a teenager, he had been afraid of mirrors and cameras, but he never could figure out why.  As he wandered, he found an uncovered mirror in the hall. With a sharp cry, he hastily threw a blanket over it. The bedroom and bathroom mirrors got the same treatment. 

"I have to get home..." he said into the empty apartment, voice shaking and desperate. "Oh, masters of us all, I must get home."

  Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.  Diego stood there and Cecil noticed that there was no grey at his temples and that the thick curls were a consistent ebony throughout.   Maybe he dyes it? Cecil thought. Or maybe it's just another thing about this place, how they aren't exact copies. 

"By the way, how high can you get your voice to go?"

  "Why?" 

"Because Kevin's voice is a lot higher than yours. If you want to get past Strex, you have to be able to talk like him. I..." Diego pulled out his phone, a sleek black device with a yellow triangle emblazoned on the back. As he scrolled, he continued talking. "I have a recording somewhere, what with him- oh! Here it is." A high chipper voice began emanating out of the speakers seconds later. 

"Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin, bringing you all your news and good spirits for another gorgeous day in the Bluffs. But before we get too comfortable, there is some news about that gorgeous day. We're getting news that a sandstorm is moving in towards us. Authorities are telling us that it is a doozy, and that we should all stay indoors. Nothing to worry about! Just stay out of the way. It will pass. As with life, and as with all things, it will pass. The sun will be upon us again, and it will be like two mornings in a day. Yes! A two-morning day! A rebirth. A reawakening. What do you think of that, Desert Bluffs? Intern Vanessa did point out that sandstorms can do a lot of damage to cars, and if you have access to a garage you should bring your car in. Also get those pets inside, Desert Bluffs! We don't want all those cute puppies and spiders and baby raccoons getting lost out in the sandy breeze. Bring those loved ones inside."

Cecil hissed in a breath through gritted teeth.

  "I can't... I don't know if I can do that." Diego looked almost like he pitied Cecil. 

"I'm sorry. Reeducation here is more painful than in Night Vale." Cecil sank down against the wall, head in his hands.

  "I just want to go home." 

"I'm sure, but trust me, I've worked with Strex for too long, I know they won't let you out." Cecil nodded slowly. 

"Is there no way at all?"

"I don't know how well you could pass as Kevin, so... No."

"Wait. Is there a chance? What if you went with me?"

"I can't. I can't leave, they'd monitor me more than you. Now go, go get ready for the broadcast- and make sure you learn the way here and back. No one is going to pick you up after the inevitable reeducation."

Cecil nodded slowly and shut the door, feeling terror- a near-unknown emotion to him- well up in his throat. 

Chapter Text

It was close to three in the morning by time he staggered from behind the city hall following the painful, painful reeducation session, desert silent and empty. Cecil flopped down onto the asphalt, cold summer air chilling his skin. The road was still covered in sand but the disoriented man couldn't bring himself to care- how could tonight get any worse? He turned his head, pressing his cheek to the pavement in an attempt to leech some warmth out of the black material. Then, through the gap between two buildings, he saw them. Helicopters circling high over somewhere far, far away- but even from where he lay he knew they would be blue and black, just like home.  A stab of rational thought crossed his mind through the dull pain and he managed to piece together the words "why haven't I forgotten anything?" before the throbbing ache in his head extinguished the spark of confusion.  The only thing he could think to do next was pursue the helicopters. The dull drone of his first grade teacher filtered through his mind- "follow the helicopters and they'll take you home."  In a haze of pain, he staggered up and began to trudge through the sandy streets into the desert night.  A spotlight swept over him, drenching his exhausted form in blinding yellow light. Cecil made the mistake of looking up, only to fall to his knees as the light and noise from the helicopter- not blue not blue not blue- send a fresh wave of pain reverberating around his skull. 

"Stop," an anonymous voice commanded from the helicopter. "Kevin Free, you have made an escape attempt. If you do not wish to be re-educated, the representatives of Strexcorp Synernists, Inc., reccomend that you stop running now." Cecil crashed to the ground at the agonizing sound of the loud male voice that seemed to be coming from all around him and hit his chin hard on a rock. Before he could feel any pain he lapsed into unconsciousness. 

Chapter Text

Diego was roused by the phone blaring. 
"Hello?" he mumbled into the sleek black device.
"Desert Bluffs General Hospital has called to inform you that Kevin Free has been injured. He has suffered mild cranial trauma and is currently unconscious."
Diego sat bolt upright in bed, snapping wide awake in an instant. 
"Kevin?! He's back?"
"What do you mean?" the clearly mystified voice on the other side said slowly. "Was he ever absent?"
"That isn't Kevin. It's more like... It's more like his double." 
"Didn't the doubles disappear?"
"Not this one. When he wakes up, tell me if his eyes are purple or black. If they're purple, it's not Kevin." 
"What do you want us to do with him? If there's a second Kevin, can you use him as an experiment?" 
"I could, yes. Have him brought here when he wakes up."
With that, Diego fell back to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Cecil woke up disoriented and achy, head pounding and mouth dry. 
"Wh... Where'm I?" he managed to groan. 
There was no answer. He sat up slowly and pressed a hand to his temple, wincing as dull pain flared in his skull. A soft whirring from the corner of the room caught his attention and he gasped as he realized it was a camera. 
"No! Oh, no," he hissed, raspy voice little more than a shell of its usual self. His heart began to race and the slow, steady beep of the monitor behind him picked up, chiming twofold. Suddenly, a young man walked in. Though his overall appearance was calm, his dark skin carried a sheen of sweat and he was tense. 
"Kevin? What's wrong with your eyes?" 
"Wh-what? I'm not- my name is Cecil." 
"Wait. You're Kevin's double? Don't move! I'm gonna go get Diego." 
Cecil, bewildered and disoriented even further by the sudden interruptions, sank back into the pillows and dozed off. 
Some time later, he was jolted awake by the same young nurse as before. 
"Ke- Cecil? Diego can't come, but his lab isn't far. You can walk. They said you're ready to go."
Cecil made a small noise and stood slowly. He slipped on his shoes, now bloodless and dry, and walked out. No one stopped him, or even looked, as if he weren't there. 
He wandered the unfamiliar streets until he found the lab. As he walked in, an exhausted-looking Diego came down the stairs, lab goggles shoved up his forehead and keeping his curly dark hair back from his face. 
"Cecil! Come up here. I have something that might get you back home, and get Kevin back here." 
Headache all but forgotten, Cecil dashed upstairs into the lab. 
"Here," a breathless, excited Diego panted. "Up here. We made a projection device that could recreate the vortex that transported you two, that's what Geniveve was hiding."
Diego bent over a panel of buttons, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas. 
He flipped a switch and straightened. Cecil and the scientists waited with baited breath... And waited... And waited. Slowly, Diego pushed another button. Deep inside the boxy machine (which did resemble an old-school projector) something shreieked, sputtered, and let out an earsplitting bang before falling silent. 
"Shit," Diego hissed. 
"Does that mean it won't work?" 
"That means it won't work."
The scientist sighed slowly.  
"Cecil, how about you go to the station? Everyone knows you aren't Kevin by now, and you aren't finished cleaning up in there. Kevin... I love him, but he has a tendency to leave a mess." 
Cecil coughed out a laugh. 
"Yeah. Sure." 
Every step he took made his heart sink lower and lower, and by the time he had gotten outside into the desert sun that seemed so much brighter here, he was sure his hopes had been abandoned far behind him. 
He read off the script handed to him in a monotonous daze, only snapping out of his trance during the weather. He reached for his phone, praying it would have enough battery life to call someone from home. When his pockets came up empty, he remembered with a sickening jolt exactly where it was- sitting on his beside table, charging and ready to go- if only he hadn't forgotten it! 
"Cecil, you fool," he scolded. 
He swept something that looked suspiciously like a carcass off his desk and picked up the headphones that were so much like his, yet so different, as the weather ended. Immediately, he lapsed back into the zombie-like state he had adopted before. 

Chapter Text

Three days of hellish monotony later, Cecil picked up his papers with heavy hands and began to look over it. His heart began to race as soon as he noticed something typed in large bold print. 

"Sandstorm moving through. No more time off work. Those who skip it will be punished." Sandstorm!  Excited, Cecil began to stare out the window. Tiny orange grains began to patter against the window like rain. The longer he spoke, voice impassioned for the first time in days, the harder the sand blew. The grains trickling into the studio through the windows were a blessing, even soaking up the blood Cecil hadn't cleared away yet. 

"Oh, masters of us all!" he cried, jumping up. The same whitish pool had appeared against the wall, humming softly.  "I can finally escape this hellish place!"

He threw off his headphones and stepped eagerly into the vortex, practically beaming.  He spilled out into the blessedly clean floor of his studio and began laughing. His voice was ragged and crazed, laughter delirious and thrilled. 

"I- what? Who- who are you?" a voice asked. Cecil stopped laughing and stood up.  It could have been a mirror that he stared into, except for two key features. The other's eyes were pure black, without irises or whites. Cecil shuddered involuntarily at the sight. Then, the other man's confused expression split into a macabre mockery of a smile. His cheeks were sliced open and the entire gaping maw was filled with rows of pointed teeth, jagged like a shark's and just as plentiful. 

"A visitor!" he cooed. "Isn't that delightful, Night Vale?"  The name of his beloved town falling past this impostor's lips roused Cecil from his frozen stance. He leapt at his double, seething with sudden fury. 

"Go back to the hell you came from," he snarled viciously. The eyes widened in surprise.

  "Wh- no! No! Don't make me! I won't. I won't."

"You'd better," Cecil hissed, pinning the intruder- Kevin, his mind reminded him- to the floor and closing his hands around his throat, pressing down with all his weight. The other was trapped and unable to struggle free. Eventually, his eyelids fell over the eyeless sockets. Cecil all but threw him into the vortex, staring into the portal after him. After just a few minutes, the indigo pool closed in on itself- for what Cecil hoped would be forever. 

"Hello?" he said, sliding his headphones on over his ears. "Night Vale? I told you I would be back. It took longer than I thought, but I have returned from whatever horrible place I have gone. Along the way, in the vortex, I saw a grosteque man. A foul devil of a man! And he attacked me! I tried to choke him to death, but I remembered. I remembered what I told you, and I let him live. I let that woeful beast live. I am sure he is not without his wounds and bruises, and I pity that he must return to that awful, awful place from whence he came and to where I most unfortunately visited. But somehow I am happy that he is alive. That I am alive. That you are alive. That we are alive. Outside, the winds are subsiding, the sun sweeping away our pains. I am sure there is blood staining the streets, the graffiti of our sins, the writings of an immoral but necessary battle, I presume. The bodies of some replaced by others who were- we were- all the same to begin with. And we are healing. Those of us, whoever we are, who survived. Those others of us, whoever we are, who conquered. Whoever you are now, you are home. We are home, Night Vale. You and I are together again. My mouth, your ears: we have each other. And for now, and always, good night, Night Vale. Good night."

Cecil leaned back in his chair as the neon light of the "ON AIR" sign faded out. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he slipped the headphones off and walked out of the studio into the cool desert air. A helicopter flew overhead as he walked up the steps to his apartment, and the last thing Cecil found himself thinking before he fell asleep was a final, joyous I'm home.