Chapter Text
On their sixth birthday, Steven and David knew about the stab before they heard Adam cry out over it. They’d never gotten along with Scott before then and even less after each triplet felt the pain shoot up their arm from that rusty nail.
The week before their first day of middle school, Adam and Steven both limped their way into the house as they carried David between them. All three of them were in pain, but only David walked into school the following Monday with crutches and a cast.
Halfway through 8th grade, they all finally stopped complaining about their collective headaches as Steven, ”Specs” from that point forward, finally got the glasses their parents hadn’t been able to afford until then.
A decade or so later, as an adult, with his brothers out living their own lives, Specs had found himself hunting ghosts.
After a peculiar case involving a woman asking them to check in on her twin after she’d been having dreams about “dead men in her apartment” or something of the sort, it finally occurred to Specs to ask Elise about the strange connection the triplets had. Especially once she explained to the client that the dreams warning her of her twin's predicament weren’t the result of some spiritual sensitivity like Elise’s own, but simply because of her existence as a twin.
“Do all twins have the same sort of connection?” He asked in the middle of packing up their equipment.
“Not all,” Elise smiled at him, always happy to share more information to include in their blog, “But I have encountered a few. Never as strong as this one though. Most tend to just be a bit more sensitive to each other's emotions.“
“What about triplets?” Specs put away his sketchbook.
Elise eyed the bag he was packing and he realized that she was probably expecting him to be writing these things down.
“I haven’t met any to be able to speak on that, but-“ she was cut off by Tucker.
“Sure you have,” He walked past them carrying a case of recording equipment, “Specs is one of three himself.”
“Is that why you’re asking?” Elise now looked amused.
“Have you had any shared experience with your siblings?”
Specs wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt shy about the whole thing.
“It’s just a few feelings here and there, calls from my brothers whenever I get cramps from writing, knowing when they break bones or… other stuff like that.” he picked up a box and moved to walk out of the room when Elise gently grabbed his arm.
“It’s a good thing, Specs. It’s a rare gift to have! And as long as that connection exists, you’ll know that your brothers are alive and that your bond is strong.”
Specs gives her a thankful nod and repositions the box he held before fully walking out of the room, chuckling quietly as he could hear Elise behind him asking Tucker if he’d met “the other two Specs.”
——-
A few weeks later, after a sharp pain in his mouth, many frantic phone calls, and a hasty flight from LA to New Jersey, Specs was driving David home from work.
They’d fallen into a comfortable routine of Specs driving David to and from work and him going back to their apartment to write and edit for the Spectral Sightings blog. When they were both home together they’d just hang out. He was there to keep David company and reassure him that no one was lurking in the hallways of their apartment complex ready to knock him out and put him in another trap. David insisted that Jigsaw would probably leave him alone now, but that logic didn’t even calm his own nerves, much less Specs’.
He’d been told Adam had called soon after the initial incident, expressing worry for the two of them, but not holding much of a conversation once he was sure of their safety. He’d called Adam himself a few days after settling in and heard about a fight they’d had, David’s defensive reassurances, and Adam's disbelief that he couldn’t put it behind them to deal with this together. He’d told Specs to let him know when David “gets his head out of his ass,” which Specs translated as Adam for “watch him and keep me updated.”
So, despite the circumstances, nothing much had changed between the three of them.
Specs listened to David complain about some patient or doctor moving his stuff around in his hospital as they climbed up the stairs to their door, basking in the familiar dynamic; and how natural it felt to be a bridge between his brothers again. It made him smile.
“You sure it's not just haunted?” Specs unlocked their door and walked in, setting the keys in a bowl by the door.
“There isn’t a building you look at that you don’t think is haunted,” David scoffed as he flopped down on the couch.
“Hospitals see a lot of death, you never know!” Specs had just told David the story of the Black Bride the previous day, much to David's amusement.
“Come by some day then. But I promise you it isn’t gonna be a possessed guy knocking the lights out of you, it’ll be some asshole patient.”
“I think I’ve had enough of creepy hospitals for a few years, thanks,” Specs thought about the bridge he was meant to be rebuilding and figured a little prodding couldn’t do any harm. “Adam mentioned something about ‘hospitals being full of assholes’ when I told him that story,”
David went quiet, prompting Specs to keep talking.
“I thought it was a weird comment, considering the hospital part of it was kind of removed from the actual events-”
“How long ago was this?”
“Few days ago. He makes a lot more comments about stuff- I think he believes me a lot more than you do, he mentioned something about catching weird stuff on his camera.”
A few moments of silence passed by until David mumbled some angry comment about “creepy bullshit” and “that damn camera.”
Ah, there it was.
Neither of them had told Specs what the argument was about but with that response he could already piece together that it was a rehashing over the same issue they’d had for years: Adams photography. Despite the annoyance of it, he wouldn’t press the issue further. This wasn’t an argument that needed his involvement. It would sort itself out eventually.
They ate dinner over a discussion about the limited entertainment hospital patients received, David commenting that they could at least use some better documentaries while Specs suggested they get the syfy channel.
Before turning in for the night David stopped Specs at his bedroom door, pulling at his shirt sleeves by his wrists and taking a deep breath before speaking.
“I do believe you, by the way. It’s hard not to with the whole-“ he gestured vaguely at his face, but Specs knew what he meant.
“I know,” Specs gave him a weak punch on the shoulder then flinched back, having hurt his knuckles. “You’re just being an ass.”
He considered going in and checking David's closet and under his bed “for monsters” to be a jerk, but they were tired, and he’d already poked at him enough.
Falling asleep, he found his mind wandering back to the problem with Adam. It was dangerous to “freelance” in the way he did, especially with more of the Jigsaw cases popping up around the city.
Specs knew he came off as a fool sometimes, but he was not an idiot. Clearly neither of his brothers cared to watch the local news; otherwise this years-old argument of theirs, David worrying that Adam’s “job” is too dangerous and Adam worrying that David can’t seem to care about himself, could’ve gotten worse. If Adam had mentioned the threat of Jigsaw to David only to hear about him getting put in one of those traps soon after…
Even he would have had trouble getting them to talk through that.
He sighed and turned over in his bed. He’d made it a habit to keep up with local news after the incident with the Lamberts. As morbid as it was, tragic news often led to strong hauntings. It was a question that had plagued his mind ever since he’d come to stay with David: Could the whole Jigsaw thing end up causing a flood of spirits like the Black Bride?
An image flashed through his head of the creepy-ass puppet David had talked about in the Bride’s black gown and veil.
Well, shit.
Now he was gonna have nightmares.
————-
A nightmare would have been preferable.
No coherent thought could work its way past the feeling of his shoulder being ripped apart- and for a moment he could’ve sworn that his unlit room got impossibly darker. His ears rang for what felt like ages until it gave way to panicked confusion: was this a heart attack? An aneurysm?
He grabbed at his shoulder pulling his shirt out of the way to see if maybe there was a stab wound from a hidden assassin or attacker or ninja or whatever until he registered the sound of David crying out in pain as well.
The blood in his veins turned to ice as his concern turned towards his brothers.
He stumbled out of bed in a rush, hand fumbling on his nightstand for his glasses and shoving them on his face as he made his way out to the hallway.
It was lit, it was always lit for David’s sake but it didn’t help the blur in Specs' vision.
He crashed into David’s room, half expecting to see the Bride-Puppet standing over him with a knife-
But there was no intruder.
No knife.
No Blood.
Only David sitting up in his bed, heaving and clutching at his shoulder as he stared at Specs with wide, terrified eyes.
“We have to call Adam.”
———-
When David last spoke to Adam, it was the biggest fight they’d ever had.
He had stormed out of Adam’s apartment after a series of deflections and insults drawn out by their equally defensive natures had caused a shitstorm of an argument that had Adam’s neighbor hollering at them to keep it down. He’d left hurt and pissed and wondering when they’d started building walls to keep each other out instead of other people.
They’d definitely fought growing up- what siblings didn’t? But it never broke them as bad as this.
Even when they would give each other a childish silent treatment they’d drop it over the need to interact with each other or whenever anyone would mess with any of the three of them. The classic sibling notion of no one but each other being allowed to touch them. Specs in particular would face the most torment, picked on in school or by relatives for being on the more geeky side, but it never got far whenever Adam and David were around. Even if they’d been in the middle of an argument they’d come running to defend their triplet. He’d been the glue keeping the three of them together- and fixing any cracks that may have formed. It was tradition, or more like routine, for them to get Specs out of trouble and for Specs to keep them together.
It was strange, and guilt-inducing for David, to see him now doing both jobs.
He’d been sitting on the couch, shaking all over while Specs paced around their living room calling Adam over and over and over again and being sent to voicemail every time until he snapped and ran out of the apartment, yelling over his shoulder for David to follow. It was the most frantic he’d ever seen Specs: yelling at red lights and making hard turns and, most surprising to David, actually speeding for once. He figured the only reason they weren’t pulled over immediately was the fact that it was nearly seven in the morning when everyone else was rushing to jobs as well.
That, and, it was Jersey.
It took them 10 minutes to get to Adam’s. There was no security in the building, no buzzer or locked glass door to stop them from sprinting up the steps of the apartment building to pound on his door until they realized it was unlocked and barged in.
“Since when did this shitty apartment get AC?” David wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed up and down his arms while he walked in.
Specs didn’t answer but blew on his hands and rubbed them together as he looked around the room. He pulled a flashlight out of seemingly nowhere after the light switch didn’t work and began searching the apartment. There was no sign of life in the messy place other than an unmade bed and piles of dirty laundry. Even the dark room had very few photos hanging up and all the supplies were put neatly away.
Adam wasn’t there.
“Do you know any place he might hang around that’s not here?” Specs walked back into the living room where David sat with his head in his hands.
“Other than Scott’s?” David scoffed, “He had some buddies concert to go to that he told me about, but not today. Certainly not at the ass-crack of dawn.”
“We need to call the police.” Specs whipped out his phone and began to dial the emergency line before David walked over and yanked it out of his hand.
“Cops aren’t gonna do shit about this. What would we even tell them? ‘Hi, police? Our brother, who by the way is a grown ass man, isn’t in his apartment and we think he got shot-“
“We don’t know that it’s a gunshot.”
“- and we think he got shot and is maybe bleeding out somewhere. How do we know? Oh, just trust us! We have a telepathic link that lets us share pain!”
“What else are we supposed to do?! Just sit here and do nothing knowing he’s out there dying?!”
“I don’t know! But we can’t just expect to talk to anyone sane about this and not have them look at us like we’re-” They both flinched a new spike of pain shot through them and David clenched his fists around his sleeves and pulled them down to cover his hands like mittens. “What the fuck is the point of this shit if we can’t even do anything when we know one of us is hurt? It’s not like it lets us-“
“Make contact.” Specs sounded like the air had been punched out of him, and looked like it too. His eyes wide and his mouth open as the cogs seemed to turn in his mind.
“I was gonna say ‘communicate’ but I guess that’s basically the same thing,” David stared in confusion as Specs patted himself down before remembering that David still held his phone and snatched it back, nearly breaking the top half off as he flipped it open.
“There might be something we can try. It’ll be a long shot, and we’ll need to wait for Tucker and Elise but-“
“Woah, hold on, Adam’s not dead, why do we need your medium-grandma?”
Specs gave him a glare at the “grandma” comment before bringing the phone up to his ear.
“He doesn't have to be for this to work,” the phone rang until the voicemail message played and Specs just dialed again. “I don’t even know if it will work, but I’ve seen the connection between multiples tapped into before.”
The call went to voicemail again but he just kept calling.
“Damnit Tuck, pick up!”
“Wait, so what exactly do you wanna do, sit around and test a theory while Adam bleeds out?!” David knew there weren't any more appealing options, but this- “And you want to wait for them to get over here from Los Angeles?!”
“What else are we gonna do?!” Specs turned away at his friend finally responding and began explaining the situation and imploring them to get on the next flight over to Jersey, ignoring any of David's expressions of frustration.
As ridiculous as it was, he really could not imagine what else to do.
He ran his hands down his face and began searching the apartment again, hoping something would be different or change or give any indication of how to find Adam.
Just like always, the apartment was a disaster. The bedroom had clothing and various papers scattered all over, the living room had posters and photos hung up all over the wall, some covered by stacks of crates or random shit that Adam probably didn’t even need. His bike was crammed into the hall and the sink was piled with an unreasonable amount of dishes for someone who had nothing in his fridge.
Entering the Dark Room, having allowed Specs to look through it by himself before, he stopped and wondered at the organization.
He’d been here before, accompanying Adam while he developed photos, and it caught him off guard to see how bare the room was. There was nothing hanging from pins on the threads tied to cabinets, no chemicals left out, the camera was placed neatly-
The camera.
The camera was still here.
Adam wasn’t out on a job.
Frantically checking the camera for film, he swore in relief at the sight of it and began tearing open the cabinets as he tried to remember what Adam had taught him about developing photographs and pulled out anything that looked familiar. The room quickly went back to its recognizable mess as David began the process. He surprised himself at his remembrance, only after pouring the chemicals realizing that they were all labeled and matched to a corresponding bin- and he’d got them all correct.
Amidst his dashing back and forth to the projector-thing and the bins, he didn’t notice Specs calling his name until he was pounding on the door he hadn’t realized he had closed.
He opened it, not waiting to hear whatever questions his brother surely had before dragging him inside and yanking the flashlight out of his hands.
The projector- enlarger, he remembered- was an old finicky thing Adam had gotten in a yard sale. Weeks spent talking about how the old guy selling it had no idea what he was “practically giving away” for 30 dollars. It blinked out often and the screws came loose too many times for David to count, but it never stopped Adam from singing its praises and recounting how lucky he’d been. At the time, David had thought him crazy for being so obsessed over this piece of junk but now-
The loose screws gave him the perfect solution to the power issue.
He’d pointlessly tried turning it on to see if it would work despite the lights being out. It didn’t, but if he could unscrew the lamp bit and stick the flashlight inside, he’d be set.
Specs stood behind him, silently watching him work. David could hear his feet shuffling where he stood as if unsure of how to proceed.
“He cares a lot about this shit, doesn’t he?”
David didn’t look at him and continued fiddling with the enlarger.
“Yeah, he spends tons on the chemicals for this and never goes anywhere without that camera. If we can see what he was photographing recently maybe we can get a sense of what-“
“I’ve never seen any of his things organized.”
David turned to see Specs standing by the other counter and running his finger over the labels on the bins.
“It usually isn’t,” David secured the flashlight where the lightbulb was and turned to finally get the photo paper, “That’s why I’m doing this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Camera here, no photos, stuff put away? Not only was he not out on a job, but someone else was here- where he’s never let anyone but me in- organizing all his shit and taking all of the photos he had hanging up and more likely than not took Adam himself-“
“And whatever’s on the Camera might be the reason why.”
David let him stew in the information. He knew there were a lot of conclusions they were jumping to, but at the moment, Adam actually organizing his darkroom was harder to believe than the idea that he had been kidnapped and shot- because he could feel part of that like a hot iron brand through his shoulder.
The photos were developed in silence, David hanging them all up and barely catching a look at them before turning to work on the next one- not that he could see them clearly with how much they shook in his hands. From fearful anticipation and from how increasingly fucking cold the room had gotten.
After a good amount of them were done and displayed, David stood back next to his brother and joined him in staring at them expectantly, as if they’d start speaking and give them some insight into Adam’s whereabouts.
Cats.
Some random chick with a short haircut.
A blonde guy with- wait.
David grabbed at one photo, then another. Eyes flicking back and forth between images of the same blonde guy at different angles and in different situations. In sunglasses, holding the bridge of his nose, in some random hallway.
“What, do you recognize something?” Specs grabbed some photos out of David's hands only to look back at him confused.
“I just,” David narrowed his eyes at the photos, his grip tightening and crumpling them.
“Is that Doctor Gordon?”