Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started slowly.

Cecil didn’t even realize it at first.

Or maybe he did, but he just ignored it.

He can’t remember.

It began with his voice.

He started receiving letters, his listeners asking him if he was getting sick, asking if he lost his voice, or caught a case of throat spiders. They told him his voice sounded different.

Rougher.

“I really have no idea what you all are going on about.” He replied, broadcasting across the town. “My voice is the same as it’s been for years.”

He really couldn’t tell.

He still can’t.

It didn’t stop there, of course.

The next thing to change was his hearing.

It didn’t go away, but it got heightened.

He could hear the squeak of every chair in the station, he could hear every time someone dropped their pen, whenever someone even scratched their skull.

It was maddening.

He had to start wearing ear protection, or else his ears would bleed.

But he could ignore that too.

He lives in Night Vale, after all, anything can happen, so it was going to be fine.

Then his Sight went.

Not the sight he used to see what was in front of him, but the Sight he got from being The Voice of Night Vale.

That’s when he really knew that something was incredibly wrong.

“Carlos! Carlos! ” He yelled into his phone, his hands shook as he held it to his ear.

“Cece, hon, you sound upset, did something happen?” Carlos asked him, his voice filled with concern.

“It’s gone.” Cecil told him, his panic mounting. “ It’s gone. ”

“Hey, take a deep breath.” Carlos instructed, trying to calm his husband. “What is gone?”

“My Sight, my, my third eye.” He explained, tripping over his words as he did. “I was trying to use it, but, but I can’t, it’s, it’s just gone. ”

Carlos was silent for a moment, and the only thing Cecil was able to hear were his own distraught breaths and agonized tears.

“Do you have any idea why? Or how?” Carlos asked.

“No, nothing, there’s nothing, I don’t, I don’t know, I-”

“Cecil, it’ll be okay. We can figure out what’s going on, and fix it.”

Carlos wasn’t able to figure out why it happened, at least not at the time.

Cecil had spent hours in his lab, letting him run tests, observe him, try to figure out what could be stopping Cecil’s power.

But there was nothing. His studies resulted in no answers.

The only thing they knew was that the third eye on his forehead was gone, with not a trace left behind.

And of course there were the tendrils, one of the last things to come.

Cecil really should have noticed those earlier, but they were the same purple as his tattoos, and at first were only wrapped around his torso.

His tattoos’ could have easily migrated there, they do, after all, move fairly often.

By the time they grew it was too late.

Before he knew it, the creature that was Cecil Gershwin Palmer was gone, and a new thing had appeared.

A monstrous thing.

He thinks other people noticed before him.

They had started to cower away, avert their eyes, and avoid him all together.

He doesn’t know how it happened.

Why it happened.

Why it had to be him.

At some point he saw it.

He realized that he had truly changed.

It broke him.

He was at the station when he snapped.

He had just finished his broadcast.

A broadcast that no one was listening to, not after they stopped being able to understand what he said.

As he walked back from his booth the station’s interns and employee’s vacated his sight.

But he could hear them, their hushed whispers, their violent breaths as they coward under their desks.

“What?” Cecil growled at those still in the building. “What is it?”

There was no answer. Only the sound of those people whimpering in fear.

“Why are you all hiding from me?” He asked, his voice growing more distressed. “What is going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, and surveyed the station.

He took in the overturned chairs, the spilled coffee, scattered papers, and purple tendrils that took up the area around him.

The scene reminded him of a time, several years ago, during the contract negotiation season before last, when Station Management had, for the first time, left it’s office.

The more Cecil took in the sight, the more it resembled that day.

He reached out to upright one of the coffee mugs, but before he could, one of the tendrils that were attached to him knocked it off the desk, and a startled screech made him fully pull back.

He started backing up, getting away from the frightened employees, fleeing the terrified interns, trying to escape the horror of it all.

The horror of himself.

He clasped a hand over his mouth as he tried to steady his breath, as he tried to fight his own fear.

His pace quickened, and he stumbled as he tried escaping the building, falling onto a frosted glass door.

The tendrils wrapped around the door knob, and they opened the office, causing the being Cecil had become to fall in.

He kicked against the carpet as he tried escaping the fears of those in the station, he pushed his hands into the floor, pulling himself away from the door as the tendrils slammed it shut.

The room was dark, the only light in it was the lava lamp pulsing in the corner.

Cecil didn’t try to get out.

He wasn’t trapped, still isn’t, but he never tried to open the door.

Not when he’s like this.

He can’t face Carlos, his husband, or worse yet Esteban, his son, like this.

He can’t let them see him as this, this thing .

But he doesn’t know what to do, how to fix this.

He had sent Carlos a text, telling him that he’ll be stuck at the station for a while.

Carlos didn’t respond.

Although he had told Cecil that he started typing in sigils that he couldn’t understand, Cecil had insisted that they looked normal, that he hadn’t changed anything, but maybe it was something wrong with Carlos’ phone.

The text was sent days ago.

Maybe weeks.

He’s still sitting in the office, tracing symbols he shouldn’t know into the carpet.

He thinks his husband did try to call, but the ringing of the phone caused his ears to bleed, and the tendrils destroyed it before he could answer.

He hums to himself sometimes, as a distraction.

It doesn’t really help, but there isn’t much else he can do.

Every once in a while he hears the interns outside his door.

He knows it’s the interns, since the employees know to stay away from the frosted glass door.

When he first heard someone on the other side of the office, he had tried to talk to them, to join in their conversation.

The screams he received in response made him quickly give up.

“I guess this is it.” He whispers to himself. “No more being a radio host, no more family, no more friends…”

He swat at one of the many tendrils whipping around him, watching it swing back and forth.

You can’t live in Night Vale and give up easily, it’d be impossible to survive that way, not with all the disasters that occur here.

But even so, Cecil can’t make himself believe there’s a future where he ever leaves this office again, where he goes back to the life he had, the people he loves.

He just can’t see it.

He lets out a heavy sigh, curling in on himself as he does.

He can’t fix this, he doesn’t even know how this happened in the first place.

There’s nothing he can do but give up.

Chapter Text

Carlos should have noticed the changes earlier.

He shouldn’t have brushed the difference in Cecil’s voice aside until it got to the point that he could no longer hear his husband in the screams and growls that came out of his mouth.

He shouldn’t have ignored it when he would unintentionally avert his eyes, when could barely make himself look at the man he loves.

He should have made Cecil go to a doctor outside of Night Vale when his ears were bleeding.

He should have worked harder to figure out why Cecil lost his third eye.

He should have insisted on understanding why he could only type using sigils that neither of them knew.

And he shouldn’t have disregarded the tendrils that started growing as just another oddity of Night Vale.

He had tried to reason his way out of worrying about the changes that appeared.

Cecil had always come with his quirks, Carlos thought to himself, these are just more of them.

By the time he realized how wrong he was, it was far too late.

He got the text from Cecil before he heard the news of what happened.

He couldn’t read what the sigils said exactly, but when he saw them he felt pain in the back of his skull and the tears started running down his cheeks.

He only knew that something very bad had happened.

That’s when intern Julie called him.

“Julie, what’s up? What happened?” Carlos asked into the phone.

“It’s Cecil. He’s, he’s, he’s turned into some sort of creature. Or, I think it’s him, I don’t know.” Came the breathless reply of the intern.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” He instructed, his voice tight.

“It was the end of the broadcast, and then, then there was an ungodly noise from the booth, and everyone started running, and, and hiding, people were screaming to get down and under their desks, it was terrifying.” She said, taking a breath before she continued her story. “I got under my desk before the monster that was in the recording room came out, and when it walked through the building there were some sort of tentacle things trailing behind it, and it, it screamed, but not a human scream, I, I don’t know what you would call it, but it went into Station Management’s old office, and then everyone ran out, and I’m outside that radio station, but I didn’t know what to do, so I thought maybe I should call you, since he’s your husband.”

“Right. Thanks. I’ll figure something out.” Was all Carlos could manage to say at the time.

He didn’t know what to do, how to fix this, how to help him.

He still doesn’t.

He tried to call Cecil.

Cecil didn’t answer.

He hasn’t sent another text, sigil or not, since then, and it’s been weeks.

The worst part has been Estaban asking where ‘Papa’ is.

Carlos hasn’t been able to find a way to tell him what really happened, not without greatly upsetting him.

Besides, he isn’t even sure what happened himself.

He just told his son that Cecil was on a business trip, and would be back soon.

He’s been working in the lab, running calculations, searching his head and every scientific database in Night Vale to try to find a way to help Cecil.

He’s put off his duties as the Dean of The University Of What It Is, and has stayed in his lab all day, only leaving to pick up Esteban from school, and later to take him home to go to bed, every other minute is spent trying to get his husband back.

He looks up at the white board once more, reading the list of symptoms out loud.

“Sensitive hearing, a change in his voice, growing tendrils, losing the ability he got from being The Voice of Night Vale, writing in ruins…” His voice trails off as he squints at the writing. “None of it connects, I don’t understand it, it doesn’t make sense.”

Carlos feels a tug on his lab coat, and looks down, meeting the big eyes of his son.

“What’s wrong Daddy?” Esteban asks.

“I… I’m trying to figure out what this data means, but I can’t.” He explains.

Esteban purses his lips for a moment, contemplating something in his innocent head for a few moments.

“But you’re a scientist Daddy, you can do anything.” He informs Carlos. “That’s what Papa always says.”

Carlos looks down at him, smiling at him, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes as he ruffles his son’s mop of hair.

“You’re right Ebbi. I can figure this out.”

Esteban gives his leg a quick hug, before running off into a different area of the lab.

Carlos lets out a heavy sigh, turning back to the white board.

Both Cecil and Esteban are counting on him, he has to figure this out.

Now if only he could connect these dots…

He steps up to the white board, grabbing the dry erase marker from the edge, and starts writing out all the events once more, this time putting them on a timeline.

After he writes it all out he caps the pen and takes a step back, looking up at the white board, reading what he wrote.

And finally the timeline started to put everything into perspective.

“This… This all started when I became the Dean?” He stares at the scribbled words for a few moments more. “Or, no… Oh.”

He thought the realization of what it was would hit him like a freight train when he finally figured it out, but no, it just clicked, made sense, and felt right. Nothing dramatic about it.

“Esteban!” Carlos called, eyes still fixated on the answers he had been looking for.

“Yes Daddy?” He responds, running up to him.

“I’ll be back, stay here.” He instructs his son.

“But I wanna go wiiiith.” Esteban pouts.

Carlos looks down, breaking his staring contest with the white board.

“Do you promise to do exactly what I say?” He asks, receiving a vigorous nod in return. “Alright, then let's go.”

He grabs the car keys from the lab bench, and practically runs out of the building, only slowing to make sure his son can keep up with him.

He throws his car door open, and hastily buckles his seat belt, before turning around in his seat.

“Are you all buckled up?” He asks.

“Yes and ready for an adventure!” Esteban answers, grinning.

Carlos nods, turning back and sticking the key in the ignition, starting the car and hitting reverse.

He barely keeps himself from speeding as he drives, but the last thing he needs right now is a run in with the Sheriff’s Secret Police.

His knuckles feel tight from gripping the steering wheel by the time he pulls up to the radio station.

He takes one more deep breath in, trying to steady himself.

He’s right. He has to be. If not, he doesn’t know if there’s any way to help Cecil, and he has to help him.

“Are you ready to go in Ebbi?” Carlos asks, turning around.

Esteban nods, and they both walk up to the station, Esteban slipping his hand into his father’s.

Carlos pushes the door of the windowless building open, passing the employees and interns without a word.

He pauses in the hallway, before crouching down to be eye level with his son.

“I need you to stay here Esteban.” Carlos instructs.

“Right.” Esteban replies with a nod.

“This is very important, I need you to promise me you’ll stay right here.” Carlos insists.

“I promise Daddy.” He says.

“Good.” He tells him, giving him a pat on the shoulder before standing up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes a step towards the hallway, a step away from his son.

And then a second one.

And a third.

A fourth.

It’s hard for him to leave Esteban alone in the radio station, but he knows it could be much more dangerous for him to come with.

He walks past a few desks before he sees the door.

It’s made of frosted glass, with a black frame. The inside is dark, aside from the infrequent pulsing glow of shifting colors.

He cautiously approaches the door, and with a deep breath raps his knuckles against the glass.

“Hello? Cece?” Carlos calls through the door.

The only response he gets is an unearthly scream.

“I’m going to open the door now.” He informs the being on the other side of the glass.

There’s a growl as he reaches for the door knob.

He turns it, and it isn’t locked, but as he pushes it open he’s met with resistance.

“Cecil, please let me in.” Carlos pleads.

This time he’s met with a horrid cry.

“Hon, it’s me.”

Another scream.

He lets go of the knob, inside placing both hands on the frosted glass and leaning his forehead against it.

“I know what happened to you.” Carlos tells him. “I know how to fix it.”

This time he’s met with a softer sound.

“Just please open the door.”

The inhuman scream is ear piercing again.

“Why is Papa stuck in that room?” Esteban asks, putting a small hand against the glass.

There’s another deafening wail.

“Esteban! I told you to stay in the hallway.” Carlos says, startled.

“But Papa’s in there.” His son informs him, not turning away from the door.

There’s more screams from the other side of the glass, but this time they’re mixed with cries, and Carlos can barely stand listening to them.

“It’s very important that you listen, and you go back into the hallway where it’s safe. ” Carlos tells him.

“But Papa would never hurt me.” Esteban says, before finally turning to look at Carlos. “He just misses us. He’s just scared.”

Chapter Text

Cecil, or whatever is left of him, is curled against the wall, trying to ignore the world outside.

He’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since he trapped himself in this cage of a room.

He’s thirsty.

He’s lonely.

He’s terrified.

He can’t leave this prison.

He can’t let anyone see the monster he’s become.

He can’t bear to witness that fear.

Their fear of him.

He takes a shaky breath, and pulls himself into a tighter ball, the tendrils wrapping around his body.

This is it.

This is where he dies.

A knock on the glass jolts him out of his thoughts.

“Hello? Cece?” He hears Carlos call through the door.

“Carlos? Carlos!” Cecil yells back, scrambling to the door.

“I’m going to open the door now.” His husband informs him.

“No. No you can’t. I, I, I’m sorry.” He tells him as the tendrils push against the door, keeping it close despite Carlos’ attempts.

“Cecil, please let me in.” His Love pleads.

“You can’t see me like this, I can’t let you.” Cecil tells him, tears falling onto his cheeks.

“Hon, it’s me.” Carlos says.

“But I’m a monster now.”

The resistance on the door stops, and as he looks up at the frosted glass, seeing the faint impression of two hands and a forehead.

“I know what happened to you.” Carlos tells him. “I know how to fix it.”

“You can? You can fix this?”

“Just please open the door.”

“But I’m scared. I’m scared for you to see me like this Carlos.”

“Why is Papa stuck in that room?” He recognizes the voice of his son and the small hand pressed against the glass door.

“Esteban? Carlos, why did you bring him with you?” Cecil asks, his voice arching in panic.

He can barely stand the idea of letting his husband see him like this, but his son? He can’t imagine the pain that he would feel if Esteban saw him and was afraid, and if he ran.

“Esteban! I told you to stay in the hallway.” Carlos says, sounding startled.

“But Papa’s in there.” Esteban says, his voice full of certainty.

“Esteban, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could come home. I’ll, I’ll try, but you need to go, you need to-” Cecil pleads, before sobbing against the door.

“It’s very important that you listen, and you go back into the hallway where it’s safe. ” Carlos tells their son.

“But Papa would never hurt me.” Esteban says, not a trace of fear in his tone. “He just misses us. He’s just scared.”

“You don’t understand, neither of you, I can’t let you see me like this.” He chokes out in between cries.

There’s silence on the other side of the door for a few moments, before he hears Carlos sigh.

“You can stay.” He tells Esteban.

“Thank you Daddy.” Is the response.

“Please, just take him home. Both of you should go.” Cecil whimpers.

The door knob rattles once more, and this time it’s Cecil’s hands that push against it.

“Just tell me how to go back to how I was, and go! ” Cecil cries through the door.

“Cecil, I won’t leave you here.” Carlos calls back.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have to let us in.”

“I don’t want to see you run.”

“Please let me in.”

“Carlos, listen to me, I can’t!”

“ Please. ”

“Daddy,” Esteban cuts in, stopping the pushing and pulling of the door. “Why don’t you tell Papa what he can do himself if he won’t let us in?”

“Yes, Esteban, thank you.” Cecil breathes.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll try that.” Carlos says. “Cecil, you need to quit.”

“... What?”

“Well, not quit, exactly. You need to resign from being the station’s manager.” He instructs. “You might need to promote someone else, but I think you’re turning into Station Management.”

“But, who would take my place?” Cecil asks.

“I know it might sound crazy, but I think that’s it. It’s at least worth a shot, isn’t it?” His husband asks.

“Alright, I’ll try.” He responds.

Cecil pushes himself off the floor, and towards the desk in the corner.

He riffles through the drawer, before finding a piece of paper and an envelope.

The tendrils move on their own, writing something out, then sticking it in the envelope, and sealing it with a sigil.

“Alright, I, I think I did it.” Cecil says through the door.

“Cecil? Are you still there? Did you do it?” Carlos asks.

Instead of answering, he just kneels down and slides the envelope under the door.

“Is this it? Who do I give it to?” Carlos asks.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Cecil says.

“Hey-!” Carlos exclaims.

“Intern Julie. It goes to Miss Julie.” Esteban says.

“Oookaay.” Carlos replies, hesitant.

Cecil hears shuffling on the other side of the door, and then faint voices from across the building.

“Carlos? Did you leave?” He calls out.

With a deep breath, he braces himself, and starts to use the tendrils to stand up.

Except they go completely limp, unmoving.

Unmoving besides the slow, imperceptible retreat back into Cecil’s skin.

He lets out a sigh, and picks himself off the ground by himself.

“Hey, Hon, we’re back. We delivered the letter to your intern. She was very happy about the promotion.” Carlos informs him.

“Carlos, I’m, I’m so glad you’re back.” Cecil says, pressing a hand against the frosted glass himself. “I know I told you to leave, but next time please tell me.”

“Papa!” Esteban shouts.

“Cecil?” Carlos says cautiously.

“Yes?” He replies.

“Cecil. Cecil, I can hear you again.” His husband says, joy and relief both filling his voice. “Mixed in with the screams is you, it worked. It worked!”

“It did?” Cecil asks, his tone full of excitement.

“Yes!” Carlos exclaims with a laugh. “It worked!”

Cecil smiles, wiping away tears.

“Now open the door, let’s go home.” Carlos suggests.

“But… but I’m not completely better yet. I don’t… What if…” Cecil starts, stumbling over his words.

“Sweetie, I’ve lived in Night Vale for over a decade now, I don’t care if you’re a little different.”

“But Esteban-”

“I miss you Papa,” He says. “I want to see you again, please.”

He takes a deep breath in.

He can’t stay in here forever.

He’ll have to face them eventually.

He doesn’t have another choice.

Cecil closes his eyes, twists the knob, and pulls the door open.

Before he knows it he has four arms wrapped around him. Two around his torso, and two around his leg.

He buries his face in Carlos’ hair, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his husband’s conditioner, as he’s wrapped in his embrace.

“Next time, stay home instead of locking yourself in your old boss's office. Please.”

“M’kay.”

Chapter Text

Cecil kept going back to normal, slowly, but surely.

But then again, the first transformation wasn’t exactly quick, so it’s probably best this hasn’t been either, Carlos supposes.

He was able to convince his husband to take time off work as he recovered.

“But I already haven’t done my radio show in weeks!” Cecil had tried to say.

“And you won’t be doing it until you’re back to normal. You need to rest and take it easy Sweetie.” Carlos had told him.

He had pouted, but all it took was a kiss on the cheek, and there wasn’t a second argument about it.

Throughout the last few weeks Esteban has been glued to his healing father’s side, cuddling up next to him on the couch, following him around, getting him water and snacks whenever Cecil needed, and overall he did his best to make him feel better.

They couldn’t be any prouder of him.

And Carlos will admit that he’s been clinging to Cecil too.

The weeks he spent in the lab, trying to figure out how to help, had been lonely, he had missed his husband dearly.

He’s taken care of all the meals, made sure the love of his life was cool enough, or warm enough, and he took care of any chores, too, despite Cecil’s protest that he was doing too much.

But he saw the relief in his eyes that he could just rest without having to do anything.

“We should probably get Ebbi to bed.” Cecil says, his soothing voice snapping Carlos out of his thoughts, as he gestures to the boy curled up asleep next to him.

“Yeah, he seems to be out like a light bulb.” He replies with a chuckle.

Carlos stands up, and scoops their son off his couch, taking him to his room, and tucking him into bed.

He closes the door quietly, doing his best not to wake Esteban, before turning back, and returning to his husband, who’s sitting back down, two glasses and a bottle of wine on the coffee table.

“Are you sure you’re up to drink?” Carlos asks, slipping into the seat next to him.

“I was transformed into a spooky creature, I’m not recovering from a cold, it’s fine.” Cecil says, sighing dramatically, even as his third eye gazes at him loving, it’s pupil a heart.

“Alright, alright. But only a couple drinks, okay?” Carlos bargains.

“Deal.” Cecil replies with a smirk.

Carlos laughs as his husband pours the wine, handing him a glass.

“Thanks Babe.” He says, taking a sip.

“Of course Bunny.” Cecil responds.

They sit in the quiet for a few moments, enjoying their drinks, but mostly enjoying being with each other.

With a sigh of contentment Cecil rests his head on Carlos’ chest, and Carlos wraps his arm around his husband’s waist.

“Hey, Carlos.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be myself again if it wasn’t for you.”

“You know that I’ll always do whatever I can, whatever is scientifically possible, to help you.”

“I know.”

“Hey Cece.”

Cecil looks up, and Carlos stares down into his deep eyes.

“What is it Kittycake?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know.”

Cecil smiles at him, and Carlos leans down, letting their smiles meet.