Chapter Text
William remembers thinking his eidetic memory was a gift once. When he learned that not everyone could recall everything anyone ever said to them, he’d felt special. It was almost like his own super power. It was cool, he thought, not having to study for history tests and memorizing his favorite books and movies.
When he told his friends at school, they’d been in awe of it. Some of them would test it to see if they could catch him in a lie.
“Hey William?”
“Yeah?”
“What did Katherine say to you when you came into the classroom on Tuesday?”
William would quirk an eyebrow and answer with a grin, “William! William I brought lunchables for lunch today! Do you want to trade a mini pizza for half your sandwich?”
“Man he got it word for word!”
Some people expected him to be some kind of superhero with a memory like his. Or at least a helper to the heroes.
“Don’t forget me when you work with the Prime Force one day!”
“I’m not going to work with the Prime Force,” William scoffed, “I can’t do what they can do! I would never be able to fight aliens and monsters!”
“Yeah but you could be like their assistant! You know, gathering data on all the bad guys so they could stay safe!”
All William knew was it made solving mysteries easier. He had a mental map of each puzzle he solved, all he needed to do was fill it in.
Even when he first became a Prime Defender, William had thought his not-so-super power came in handy. He could memorize maps in two seconds and lead his team through a labyrinth of hallways.
It was one of the things he loved about himself. A part of him it was easy to think fondly of. Those had become rare these days so he grabbed hold of each one he found, refusing to lose a grip on those loveable parts of himself.
Slowly he counted down as each part became a burden rather than a gift.
His hands, previously nimble and adept at creating intricate sketches, slowly deteriorated until they were slow and cracked with each sudden movement. The discoloration of his fingers, a cold dead black, served only to remind him of what he’d lost.
His eyes, warm and brown originally, had become drained of their melanin, settling into an icy blue color that was far too reminiscent of the wisps for his liking.
Not even his heart was his own anymore. Instead, pumping in his chest was something blue and artificial, a gift from Dakota and Professor Cross. He was grateful, of course, but it wasn’t him. Not really. It was nothing more than a machine pumping liquid through the veins of what used to be a corpse.
His memory, however? That remained intact. Even with the pain he’d suffered, he was glad he had conversations to hold onto and play back in his mind. If he closed his eyes he could almost believe it was just like old times again. He could hear Ashe’s laugh, see the smirk on Wavelength’s face, smell the beef stroganoff Tide was cooking in the other room.
After Cantrip died that changed too. William closed his eyes and saw only the face of a scared girl, a friend that he had killed, even if it wasn’t intentional.
His memory wasn’t broken, it couldn’t break, but William was. Cantrip’s words played in his mind on repeat as guilt consumed him.
In the alley, William loses the last part of himself that he had loved unconditionally.
It's not yet sunset, but the alleyway is dark and reeks of garbage, a scent that overwhelms him after months of not smelling anything at all. Still, he presses on. William knows what he needs to do now. He knows he has to give up what he doesn’t deserve.
Part of him wants to ignore the facts and selfishly cling to the power. They were going to Deadwood soon, he would need it, he rationalizes, but he can’t listen to that voice. Not anymore.
Gripped tightly in his hand is a glass bottle he’d found in the library recycling. Exactly what he needed.
He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers to the soul that resides within him, “I know you won’t talk, but I think you can hear me. I need you to get out!”
Silence is his only reply.
“I don’t know what kind of honor-bound bullshit you’re staying with me for, but all I’ve done is hurt people and scare people, so this time I’m not asking if you want to leave. I’m telling you to GET OUT!”
A puff of smoke expels itself from his mouth as he yells those words and William bites back a bitter laugh.
“So you can hear me. Okay. Then listen. My friend, the one who beat you, Dakota… he was wrong, okay? I’m not falling. I fell. And down here I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but I know that I shouldn’t have this.”
Tears spill from William’s eyes as flashes of Cantrip’s face stare back at him every time he blinks.
“So I’m asking you to leave now, Kemuri, before I start upping the ante.”
The spirit is silent and unmoving and William grits his teeth in anticipation. He’d hoped it wouldn't come to this.
“Alright,” he whispers, tossing the bottle gently to the side. His hands fumble for a second, fingers wrapping around the handle of a knife, before he pulls it out and examines it.
The blade is silver and catches the remaining daylight, reflecting it back at him. As William holds it up, he examines his own reflection.
Tear streaks stain his face and, although he’s finally alive again, this is the most dead he’s ever looked.
“You’re to get out and I’m going to put you somewhere where I know you’ll help people. Or…” he says, hands shaking as he positions the knife over his stomach, “Or I’ll send us both back!”
“We pass on together,” says the voice in his head, deep and unwavering.
William’s heart sinks. He doesn’t really want to die. Selfishly, he wants to cling onto life. He wants to find Ashe. He wants to watch shitty movies with Vyncent and maybe even share a stupidly cheesy kiss during a romcom. He wants to laugh at Dakota’s jokes. He wants to eat shitty boxed beef stroganoff with Tide. He wants to make his parents proud.
He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as he says a mental goodbye, then plunges the knife into his stomach, crying out in pain as it hits something vital, then yanking it out and sending it flying across the alley.
The knife clatters to a half at the feet of a tall, black-suited man, and William almost laughs as he realizes who it is. Mallard Conway is staring at him. For once, he looks surprised.
In a moment, the man has lost his composure and run to William’s side, hands reaching for the wound on his abdomen and pulling away, slick with blood.
“Hey, Mal,” William chuckles weakly.
“Oh Wisperer,” Mal says, face set in permanent disbelief, “what have you done?”
“Tell them… tell them I’m sorry?” he chokes out.
He doesn’t hear Mal’s response before he falls suddenly, a feeling he’s all too familiar with.
Colorful lights rush past him in the black void until he hits the ground with a thud. Again, he finds himself in the forest. The Wispering Woods.
He pulls himself to his feet, examining his surroundings. No wisps dart in and out of the trees this time, calling for him to follow. No. This time he’s alone.
Sighing, he begins to walk in a random direction, feet slowly plodding along on the soft earth, hands reaching out to run along the bark of the trees, It all feels so real. So familiar. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine he’s back in Deadwood, hiking through the forest in search for some missing person, the latest victim of Deadwood’s monsters.
He doesn’t know how long he walks, perhaps hours, perhaps days, but eventually he comes across a pool of water and sits down at the edge of it. He’s tired. His hand reaches out to grab some of the water and splash his face, but as he takes a closer look, he freezes.
In the water is a reflection, but not his own. He sees Dakota and Vyncent finding the alley where Mal still sits, cradling his lifeless body. He watches their faces drop in horror. Suddenly, he can hear the scene playing out before him.
“William?” Vyncent asks, rushing over to his side, “Will? Oh my god—“
“He’s hurt!” Dakota calls out, “Shit! Vyncent I’m going to call someone. Get— get Mal away from him.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Vyncent snarls at Mal, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”
“Nothing,” Mal whispers, “This was not me. I didn’t—“
The vision cuts off. William stares at it in shock and begins to back away.
“No. No I don’t want to see this,” he mutters, “I don’t—“
He bursts into a run away from the pool, as fast and as far as his legs will carry him. He turns and weaves through trees, bursting through foliage. He ends up back at the pool of water.
Another scene starts to unfold.
“I don’t get it,” Vyncent sobs, “Why would he do that?”
“Sometimes guilt and shame do things to people,” says a sympathetic voice. Behind Vyncent stands Lightspeed, a hand on his shoulder.
“But he… he knew we cared about him. He knew we didn’t blame him, not entirely. He knew…”
“Let me tell you something, Vyncent,” she says softly, “When my partner died, a million people told me not to blame myself. They told me it wasn’t my fault and that I couldn’t have possibly seen it coming. It didn’t help.”
“But you’re still here. You didn’t do what William did.”
“I know. But sometimes I thought about it.”
“What?” Vyncent meets her eyes for the first time, “You?”
“Me,” she smiles sadly, “and I might have done it if I hadn’t become a hero, in all honesty. I had to do something that made my life mean something more than what I’d done to hurt someone.”
“He could have done that! He could have stayed alive to help Ashe! He could have stayed alive because Dakota and I need him!”
“But he didn’t. Maybe he saw this as his only way to make things right. I don’t know.”
“It didn’t make things right,” Vyncent said quietly, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“I know, Vyncent. I know.”
William throws a rock into the water, disrupting the image, before attempting to run once again. Once again he finds himself back at the pool of water.
This time he sees Dakota in his brother’s penthouse, sitting across from his parents.
“I’m sorry,” Dakota speaks, “I should have helped him. I couldn’t catch him in time.”
“We should never have let him leave Deadwood,” his father says. Tears are welling up in his eyes.
William doesn’t remember the last time he saw his father cry. It just wasn’t something he did. When he had died the first time, he knew his father had cried, but by the time he woke up, the tears had already stopped.
Next to his father, his mother is in hysterics. She doesn’t speak. It seems as if she can’t find any words.
“I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t be here.” Dakota hurries out of the room and the vision fades once more.
“Stop showing me these things!” William yells, “I don’t want to see this! Why the fuck are they even wasting their time like this? They’re supposed to be in Deadwood fighting the fucking trickster!”
The water shifts again. This time, William sees his old friends in the reflection. The Unwitness Protection Program.
They aren’t in Deadwood, that much is obvious. It seems as if they’re sitting inside a hotel lobby, staring at a newspaper: The New Haven Times.
“Former hero, William Wisp, also known as The Wisperer, found dead in alleyway. Death ruled as suicide.”
“He’s really gone this time?”
“Seems like it.”
“I miss him. I wish he hadn’t left. Maybe he’d—“
“After what happened I don’t blame him for leaving but… this? What happened to him after he left?”
“He didn’t keep in touch. Maybe he didn’t want us to know?”
“How long do you think he…”
“Felt like that? I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll ever know.”
William buries his face in his hands and sobs.
“Please,” he whispers, “stop. No more of this. Just let me disappear.”
No more visions appear in the pool. For a moment, he’s alone. He thinks maybe the spirit world has listened to his pleas and decided to let him suffer in solitude.
Then, he hears it. A whooshing noise as something zips by his head. He looks up, sight blurry from the tears, and sees a wisp. A single ball of blue flame hovers in front of him and then begins to zip away.
“Hey! Wait!” he calls out, pulling himself off the ground and breaking into a sprint, chasing the wisp.
The wisp leads him through the trees, finally allowing him to break away from the pool. As he runs, he begins to notice the way his surroundings change. The trees become overtaken by moss, lichen, and ivy. Fallen logs block his path and he has to jump over them in order to stay on course.
Then, he skids to a stop in front of a stone archway. The wisp flies through it, dissolving.
Oh.
William’s been here before. When he died in the prison, he saw this place. Back then, he had run from it. He wasn’t ready to move on before. Now? He wasn’t sure. It seemed like his only option though.
“If you can hear me… Kemuri. I’m sorry. I hope you help someone. I hope you don’t end up stuck with someone like me again. I don’t know if you regret it, but I sure as hell do.”
Then, William lets himself fall through the archway. Falling into nothingness for the last time.
Except it isn’t nothingness he opens his eyes to. He finds himself, not inside one of the deadzones of the spirit world, but shooting upright in a familiar bed.
An alarm sounds inside the base that William used to call home and he can’t do anything but stare in horror.
Tide’s voice calls out, “Boys! It’s time for your first day of school! Don’t be late!”
He hasn’t moved on at all. He’s gone back.