Chapter Text
Ordinarily, Jim wouldn’t describe Arcadia General Hospital as foreboding, but in the early hours of the morning, with no one but overworked doctors and nurses wandering the stark white halls, the once welcoming atmosphere quickly turns eerie.
As young as he is, he really shouldn’t be awake this early. But after his dad- no, after James left them, Jim quickly got into a routine of waking at odd hours of the day to visit his mom whenever she had a break during her long shifts at the hospital. It’s not the most ideal of arrangements, but the two of them make it work. After all, any mother-son bonding time they can squeeze into Barbara’s busy schedule is more than worth having to wake up early or go to sleep late.
Over the months, Jim has become far more comfortable in the Arcadia Oaks General Hospital than any eight year old should really be, but it makes him feel so grown up being able to navigate the confusing mess of hallways by himself. So when he walks into the waiting room on an otherwise ordinary morning only to not see his mom waiting in her usual chair, Jim thinks nothing of it. The receptionist merely waves at Jim as he walks further into the hospital with the goal of locating the nearest breakroom to find his mom.
It’s an ingenious plan really. Or at least it is to an eight year old.
But as he walks through the empty halls, he can’t help but regret going off on his own. The walls loom high above him, the hallways stretch on for eternity. Every turn he takes leads him to an identical looking hallway, all sterile and white. The stench of antiseptic wafts through the air, overwhelming his senses till he can’t remember the smell of anything else.
It’s all so confusing. He knows his way around the hospital, he shouldn’t be lost. But he finds himself stranded in a maze with no exit in sight.
Jim finds himself speeding up, his leisurely walk turning into a light jog and then a full sprint. Fear creeps up his spine, goosebumps raise on his arms. There’s no reason to be afraid, he’s been in the hospital dozens of times. But he’s lost, trapped in here with no way out.
He quickly turns a corner, skidding to a halt as he finds a dead end with nothing but a single door standing at the end of the otherwise empty hallway. Save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor and the buzz of the fluorescent lights, it is completely silent.
The door is completely ordinary in every single way. The same plain boring white color, a small vertical window placed just above a stainless steel doorknob. He doesn’t want to go through the door, but as Jim goes to turn back the way he came, he comes face to face with another dead end.
There’s nowhere for him to turn, nowhere to go. Nowhere except for that single door.
He finds himself walking towards the door, though it is the last thing he wants to do. Almost in a trance, Jim feels his arm lift towards the doorknob against his will.
How he wishes that the door were locked, that he could walk away from this moment and never look back. But as the door swings open unceremoniously, Jim finds himself walking into what appears to be a normal hospital room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, quite literally sealing his fate.
An old and frail man lays on a bed in the middle of the room, hooked up to an alarming array of medical devices. He looks sickly, and barely alive, though he has an air of determination and confidence about him. He doesn’t look up as Jim enters the room, focused as he is on the chessboard laid out on his lap. His hand hovers over his side of the chessboard, eyes darting between the various pieces.
However, Jim hardly spends more than the briefest of moments taking note of the sickly man, as his attention is quickly pulled to the other individual in the room, a figure cloaked in all black with piercing yellow eyes, so bright they almost appear to be gold.
The figure looks at Jim, eyes flickering between him and the chessboard, seemingly torn about where to turn his focus. Though after a moment the figure seems to make a decision, turning his back towards Jim to face the chessboard entirely.
Now being as young as he is, Jim does not know the first thing about chess. If he did, he would see the old man pick up his rook, and with smug confidence, move it to C2. With his white knight at C3, white bishop at B3, and the black king at C1, the old man looks up at his opponent as the game concludes, checkmate thoroughly secured.
The figure nods thoughtfully as he takes in the outcome of the game. He extends a hand which the old man shakes vigorously. “Congratulations, you have foiled me once again. I shall be back in a month for a rematch.”
The old man looks up at the figure, poorly attempting to hide his shock. “Only a month? But-but last time you gave me six!”
“Yes, and the time before that I gave you a full year. I’m afraid that’s just how it is, my friend. You of all people should know that the rules of life and death are hardly fair,” the figure shrugs. “ Now, I apparently have more pressing matters to attend to, but I will see you in a month’s time for a rematch,” the figure bows dramatically, before quickly sweeping his cloak and swiftly making his way to the door.
As he passes by Jim, the figure gently places a deathly cold hand upon his shoulder, and though the cloak covers his face in shadows, Jim can’t help but feel as if he’s smiling reassuringly at him. “Now let’s get you out of here, shall we?”
Jim merely nods in response, passively letting the figure lead him from the room, not entirely sure how to proceed from here.
Jim closes his eyes as the door clicks shut behind them, not wanting to confront the maze he was stuck in earlier. But to his relief the hallway the two enter is not the same one he was in before. The hallway doesn’t end for starters, isn’t trapping him in an endless maze. A nurse passes by, carrying a clipboard and gently conversing with a patient as they walk down the hall and promptly disappear around a corner.
Jim lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, relaxing slightly only to remember the figure from the room is still standing next to him. The figure crouches down till he’s at eye level with Jim, hand hovering over the hood of his cloak, before lowering it to reveal a surprisingly normal looking face.
Jim isn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for the ominous figure to look well…human. But he smiles kindly at Jim, who can’t help but feel all the fear leaving his mind. “I’m terribly sorry you happened to stumble upon that.”
“What was that?” Jim asks carefully.
The figure sighs and pushes back his hair. “As much as I would love to answer your questions, I highly doubt knowledge is in your best interest. You’re much too young to be involved in this business. Though…” the figure pauses and glances at Jim’s shoulder where a spider, long and spindly rests. “Apparently you didn’t have much of a choice.” The figure gently lifts his finger to Jim’s shoulder, letting the spider crawl onto it.
Jim shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I truly apologize for being so cryptic, I know how frustrating it can be. But keeping you in the dark will hopefully stop you from being dragged into this mess while you are so young. Besides, answers can wait,” the figure says as he looks behind Jim, “I’m sure you are much more interested in reuniting with your mom.”
At the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, Jim turns around, only to be met with a blur of red hair rushing towards him and scooping him up into a hug.
Jim squirms in his mom’s grasp, managing to pull away just for a second only for her to grab his face and pepper it with kisses.
“Mooooom,” Jim whines, putting on a show of being unhappy, though secretly he is quite pleased with her affection.
Barbara laughs and wipes a tear from her eye. “Sorry, sorry kiddo. I just-gosh I got so worried after you ran off on your own. Thank goodness Douxie found you!”
Jim looks back curiously at the figure-Douxie he corrects now that he has a name. He smiles and scratches at his cheek nervously. “It’s no problem Dr. Lake, I just happened to find him wandering around the hospital all by himself. He’s a sweet kid honestly.”
Barbara shakes her head fondly and looks down at Jim, giving him one last hug before straightening up. “Still, you are such a lifesaver.”
“Really it’s no problem,” Douxie says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans which he definitely wasn’t wearing a minute ago. In fact his whole outfit seems more modern in general rather than the grim reaper get up he was wearing a second before. “It was a pleasure meeting you Jim. Though I can’t stay much longer I’m afraid. Benoit’s needs to be opened and I’ve got coffee to serve,” he shrugs, “the grind never ends as they say.”
Barbara smiles and places a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Oh of course we shouldn’t keep you from getting to the rest of your day. Besides, this kiddo and I have an appointment with the vending machine we have to get to.”
“Oh the siren call of cheap candy,” Douxie sighs wistfully. “You are one lucky kid Jim. Well I’ll be off now. Again, it was nice meeting you Jim and I’m sure we’ll see each other sometime soon!” He smiles, giving Jim a half wave before spinning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.
“Well mister Jim,” Barbara playfully nudges his shoulder, successfully pulling Jim’s eyes from the now empty hallway, “there’s a vending machine right around the corner and I’ve got five dollars with your name on it.”
Jim stares up as his mom with stars in his eyes. “And I can get anything I want?”
“Of course you can kiddo!” Barbara says with a goofy smile. She looks at him fondly as she ruffles his hair. “C’mon, I’m ready to sit down for a moment. Why don’t you tell me about how school’s been going?”
There’s a book in the school library.
Ok, well there are many books in the school library. It is a library after all.
But there’s one book in particular that speaks to something deep inside of Jim. Something he can’t quite describe.
It’s a rather unassuming book though it looks far too old to be in a public school library. Spiderwebs cling onto it, entrapping it in a silky prison, almost shielding the book from sight. The cover is plain and faded, the letters on the spine are so illegible he can’t even make out who the author is, save for the giant stylized M on the spine.
Jim swallows nervously, sweat dotting his brow as he stares at the book. It feels as if the world has stopped, as if it's holding its breath, waiting in anticipation.
Tension builds in the air, so thick Jim can almost feel it.
He plucks the book from the shelf, pulling it free from the cobwebs, and the world starts up again.
Jim only cracks open the book later that night, long after school has ended, and all his homework has been completed.
The book is called Trollhunter, a fantasy story about a medieval knight in shining armor. At first glance it seems to be a rather boring book with an overly simple plot, not necessarily something Jim would find interesting. But for some reason he just can’t seem to put it down.
The knight in the story is tasked with protecting his realm from all threats and foes. Just him and him alone against a cruel and bitter world. But despite the challenges, the knight rises to the occasion. He thrives in the fight, hunting down each and every one of his enemies, protecting his people and ensuring no harm comes to them.
It’s exhilarating reading of the knight’s conquests. It’s so captivating that Jim almost feels as if he’s there. He feels the leaf litter beneath his feet as the knight sprints through the woods. He hears the sounds of all the small living things in the forest, that hide and quake in fear as he races past them.
He feels his fingernails lengthen into claws, and his teeth sharpen and grow. Blood pounds in his ears as he races through the woods. His eyes adjust to the darkness of night, and suddenly he can see everything. A cold wind blows through the trees and wafts a scent towards his sensitive nose. He can smell it, the thing that is wrong, the thing that he is hunting. And then the chase is off.
He runs. Trees rush by, and the wind blows through his hair. His feet dig into the earth and he howls in delight. Others run beside him. Others like him who are just as consumed by the thrill of the chase. The hunt fills him and he runs and runs and runs and runs and-
And it’s morning.
Sunlight streams through an open window, birds chirp in the distance.
Jim sets down the book on his nightstand, rubbing his eyes and blinking blearily.
Strange, he yawns. He must have spent all night reading, he shrugs as he gets out of bed and continues on with his morning.
He does not notice how his senses are sharper, how his blood hums in anticipation, his muscles tensing for a fight that is yet to come.
Jim starts going on walks after school. He’s never been one for going on walks or runs, but lately he’s been feeling…restless. Like there’s something he’s missing, something that he’s looking for.
He doesn’t know what this mystery something is, but he knows he hasn’t found it. He doesn’t even know why he wants it, but he knows his body won’t let him rest until he’s found it, this wrong thing.
So everyday after school, once he’s finished his homework and done most of the prep work for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s lunch, Jim finds himself putting on his sneakers and aimlessly wandering around town.
It helps somewhat to calm his restless energy. But if he doesn’t find this wrong thing sometime soon, Jim is going to absolutely lose his mind.
There’s something odd about Mr. Strickler that Jim can’t quite place.
He smells off, like he’s human but just slightly to the left.
Strickler is sitting at his desk when Jim walks into the classroom. As Strickler looks up, their eyes meet, and Jim is filled, consumed with the sense of wrong and suddenly everything clicks together. It’s the same wrong that the knight hunted in the book, that he’s been searching for everyday after school, that he felt in an unassuming hospital room all those years ago. A pull deep inside Jim urges him to pounce, to attack, to chase, to do anything but stand there still and vulnerable. He needs to move, to do something, his prey is standing still right in front of him. It would be so easy to slip the knife from out of his bag and-
Toby places a hand on Jim’s shoulder, suddenly breaking the spell. “You doing ok, Jimbo?” Toby asks, concern written all over his face.
Jim gives Toby a hesitant smile, not quite wanting to let Strickler out of his line of sight. Trying to remain as subtle as possible, Jim places himself in between Toby and Strickler, as the two walk towards their desks.
He finds he can barely pay attention to the lecture, not when there is a, a wrong thing right in front of him. It doesn’t help that Strickler hardly takes his gaze off of Jim for the entirety of the period. It’s absolutely infuriating. Jim wants to run, wants to chase Strickler. To see the fear in his eyes as Jim gains on him, slowly but surely. It takes all of Jim’s self control to stay sitting at his desk, his limbs trembling with the effort.
Each and every second of the class drags on for what seems like an eternity, every moment dragging on that much further as he focuses on staying in control. In not giving into how his blood sings with the hunt. As the bell rings signaling the end of class, Jim shoots up from his desk and gathers his belongings, entirely planning on getting out of this classroom as fast as possible. Though apparently the world is against him, as Strickler oh so politely asks him to stay after class for a quick chat.
Jim gives him a strained smile, but agrees nonetheless, ushering Toby out of the room with the rest of the witnesses leaving just him and his prey all alone.
Strickler smiles as Jim stalks up to his desk. He clicks a pen open and raises an eyebrow. “Well this is quite the interesting development Young Atlas. Out of all of my students I had not expected you to be the one to fall to one of the dread powers. But I suppose I should not be surprised that I, of all people, am not privy to the web's inner workings.”
Jim frowns, leaning over the desk as threateningly as possible. “What are you talking about,” he growls.
“Oh my,” Strickler says, amused. “The lad fancies himself a watcher does he?” He clicks the pen closed before using it to lightly tap the top of Jim’s head. “I’m afraid you’ve pledged allegiance to the wrong god if it is knowledge you seek.”
“I don’t understand,” Jim says, leaning in closer to Strickler. “But you’re going to tell me.”
Strickler laughs, high and reedy. “Oh I’m afraid you won’t get a straight answer out of me. Not in my nature I’m afraid,” Strickler hums. “But I am oh so interested in seeing where this path leads you. Oh Jim, how I wonder, will you recognize yourself at the end of your journey? Or will you be nothing but a stranger in wolf’s clothing?”
Anger flares up in Jim, stronger and fiercer than he’s ever felt before. He slams his fist against the desk with such force that all of Strickler's knick knacks and decorative bobbles fall down, some clattering onto the floor. “I am going to find out what is going on, and I’m going to find out whatever it is you are, with or without your help.”
“And what will you do then?” Strickler asks with a smile, daring him to say it out loud.
Jim’s eyes narrow, and he swallows around a lump in his throat.
Strickler frowns at his lack of response, clicking the pen open and closed absentmindedly. “It seems as if you aren’t as deep as I initially assumed,” he hums in thought. “Tell you what, I’ll throw you a bit of a bone. Talk to Mr. Galadrigal if you would like more straightforward answers. That librarian knows far too much than he should, and this might be the push he needs.”
“Why should I believe any so-called advice of yours?”
“I am quite interested in seeing how this journey of yours goes,” Strickler replies smoothly. “I would hate to see you stall so soon. Besides, you have nothing else to go on. Who knows what other monsters lurk in the dark. It would be quite easy for Toby or your mother to stumble upon something they might not walk away from.”
The warning bell rings, shrill and piercing, alerting Jim to how he only has five minutes before his next class starts.
“Best be off, Young Hunter,” Strickler says. “Wouldn’t want to be late to your next class, now, would you?”
Something is going on with Jim, and Toby has no idea how to help. He’s not even sure what that something is, and that’s definitely the strangest part. Toby knows absolutely everything about Jim. He knows all the basic stuff (birthdays, favorite color, favorite food, etc…), but he knows all the more private stuff too (when his dad left, his fears about losing his mom too that he’s not doing enough to help her, etc…). So the fact that Toby has absolutely no idea what’s bothering his best friend is definitely something to be concerned about.
Now Toby isn’t one to go snooping about, but Jim’s been so weird lately that he can’t help but be a little bit nosy.
So yeah Toby does eavesdrop on the conversation Jim has with Mr. Strickler after class.
No it is not a good idea, but maybe Mr. Strickler also noticed how off Jim has been and is pulling him aside to ask him about it. As Toby watches their conversation through the little window of the classroom door, he very quickly comes to the conclusion that they are very much not talking about why Jim has been so off lately.
In fact, he has absolutely no idea what on earth they are talking about. And no, the little he manages to catch from a slight crack in the door does not help in the least bit.
Now Toby was one hundred percent planning on asking Jim what that was all about. He really was! But as Jim leaves the classroom, radiating anger, Toby hesitates for a moment.
He’s never, ever been afraid of Jim. Why would he be? They’re best friends and have known each other for literally forever. He knows Jim better than he knows himself.
But there’s something different about Jim now, something Toby can’t quite put his finger on. His eyes are more focused, his nails seem longer, and his teeth sharper. Toby freezes as Jim stalks out of the classroom, his fight or flight instincts immediately kicking it which doesn’t make any sense because the only other person here is Jim. And Toby has no reason to be afraid of Jim.
Toby gulps, his body trembling ever so slightly. Everything in his body is screaming at him to run. To get away as fast as possible. He’s in danger, but he’s not because it’s only Jim. His best friend in the entire world. He’s seen him trip over air, and laugh so hard soda came up his nose. There’s nothing scary about Jim. He’s possibly one of the least threatening kids in Arcadia.
“I’m going to the library,” Jim says as casual as can be. “Do you want to come with?”
Toby nods wordlessly, not moving a muscle till Jim has turned his back and started making his way down the hall. If he notices how Toby hesitates for a moment before following, then he certainly doesn’t say anything about it.
Mr. Galadrigal is a nice librarian. He’s always very helpful and kind to all the students who come through his door. Jim’s always liked him, or at least he never had a reason to dislike him.
The librarian’s head shoots up in surprise as Jim storms into the library, Toby following close behind him. He’s about to make a b-line to the head librarian desk, only to be stopped by Mr. Galadrigal shooting up from his seat and hurriedly making his way over to the two of them and quickly ushering them into a side room.
The backroom of the library is dark, but Jim finds he hardly has any trouble seeing in the dim light. As soon as the door is closed Mr. Galadrigal places his hands on Jim’s shoulders and spins him around so the two are face to face. Jim stares deep into Mr. Galadrigal’s eyes, piercing and captivating.
Jim feels a chill go down his spine as Mr. Galadrigal’s eyes bore deep into his soul. Every inch of Jim that has ever been, ever fleeting thought, and lifelong dream unfolds before him. It would be easy to say his life flashes before his eyes, but it’s more than something as simple as that. It’s like he’s looking at himself, who he has been, who he is now, and who he will become, with clear eyes. And suddenly he’s intensely aware of how he’s been acting, how he’s been living the past few days with blinders on, focused only on an all consuming rage and fear.
All his energy seeps out of him, and he slumps into Mr. Galadrigal’s arms. “What just happened?” The words are hard to get out, exhausted as he is.
Mr. Galadrigal sighs, and brings his hands up to rub at his temple, closing his eyes in apparent pain. “I apologize James for my haste, but it was apparent that you had fallen into a situation I had hoped none of my students would find themselves in,” he looks over at Toby who is standing back pressed against the wall and eyes nearly bulging out. “And I suppose I owe you, Tobias, an apology as well.”
“Mr. Galadrigal,” Jim urges as questions surge through his mind. “What just happened?”
“I am afraid the truth is far too strange for you to bear,” Mr. Galadrigal shakes his head.
“Please,” Jim begs. “I need to know.”
Mr. Galadrigal sighs, taking off his glasses to rub his temples. “Alright, but the two of you will need to sit down for this explanation, and please let me finish before you ask any questions.” Mr. Galadrigal puts his glasses back on his face, adjusting them slightly, giving the pair of them a reassuring smile, “I promise it will all make more sense once I have finished.”
As Jim takes a seat on the floor besides Toby, pulling his knees up to his chest. He reaches for Toby’s hand and squeezes tight. Somehow, Jim knows that whatever Mr. Galadrigal tells them will be less than helpful, and will only make the events of the past few days be all the more terrifying.