Through The Woods

by sunw00d

Summary:

Being back in the Dreamlands, their rightful place, so close to their throne... It felt like a dream come true. It's all they have ever wanted, and this world felt like the only one they belonged to. The King had greeted them with open tendrils.

So why did this feel like a bad dream?

Chapter 1: The Prelude

Summary:

A desert, a chance meeting, a deal.

Notes:

content warnings for:
- brief description of a dead body (just the face)
- car crash
- kayne

It's either staying in this lifeless husk of a person that used them, fighting for what control they might get from an unresponsive dead body, or becoming nothing more than a part of the King. That much they can understand. Being back in the Dreamlands, their rightful place, so close to their throne... It felt like a dream come true. It's all they have ever wanted, and this world felt like the only one they belonged to. The King had greeted them with open tendrils.

So why did this feel like a bad dream?

It's like with each day (do days even exist here?) more and more of them slipped away. More of their self lost, more ability to even think sapped away.

Larson has been an absolute fool. Yellow realised that as soon as his eyes were gone and he bled out near the lake they were transported to. At least now they could make some use of him, taking refuge in his body while they try to look for some kind of escape. Hour by hour they feel their mind slip away as the King slowly consumed his fragment back into himself. This isn't what this is supposed to be like. They should be on a throne, overlooking their kingdom, being taken care of, not stuck in a corpse in the middle of an otherworld desert.

They've been slowly dragging Larson's body with one hand they managed to gain control of for what felt like days, now. Has it really been days, or has it only been a moment since they found themself at the shore of the lake? Yellow turns Larson's head back with their hand to see the distance they've traversed only to see a long trail the body left behind in the sand. Hali was far, far away now. So it has been a while, then.

Yellow swears they're hearing things at this point. Pathetic, isn't it? To be reduced to this. Just something wretched inching its way through a desert like a worm, hallucinating someone whistling a tune, the sound of feet hitting the sand. Once upon a time, they were the one bringing madness to miserable little beings, making them imagine things. ...Is it really a hallucination, though? The sound is getting closer and closer. The apparition lets out a whistle of... Disappointment? Surprise? Or is it impressed?

"What a way you've travelled! You sure you're going the right way, though? Carcosa is in the other direction. Or what's left of it, anyway." The speaker bursts into laughter. Yellow isn't sure if they are just hearing things, or if that being, Kayne, is actually here. Either way, they focus on continuing to drag themself forward. Yellow's maybe-figment-of-imagination lets out an offended gasp.

"After all I've done for you, you ignore me? I return you to the Dreamlands, so close to your throne, too, and you ignore me?? Talk to me, honey, I'm sure we can work on this!" Judging by the location of the voice, he's following Yellow, now. "Or... Would you rather I left you here? Stranded in the middle of nowhere, slowly being reclaimed by the King?"

Yellow's hand tightens its hold on the handful of sand it was grasping at. "No! No."

Kayne crouches in front of Larson's face, where Yellow can see him. He tilts his head as he takes in the sight of the dried blood on Wallace's face, his empty sockets, his slack jaw. Yellow meets his gaze from where there were eyes, once.

"Beaten and bruised, and still a fighter, aren't you? Didn't you want to be here, though, or am I missing something?"

"This isn't right. This isn't what was supposed to happen."

"Oh, no, darling. All is exactly as it should be. You'll be back at your throne, but not as you, per se. Unless..." He trails off, like someone that's being interrogated but is demanding compensation for the information.

"...Unless?", they ask, as if they're in a place where they can actually bargain.

"Ever since I finished up my business with Arthur and John, I've been pretty much bored. To death, really! I could cut my own throat from boredom!!" Kayne bursts into loud, obnoxious laughter. "Get it? Because..?"

Yellow musters up what strength they have to seem more intimidating. "I'm not your fucking source of entertainment."

"But you could be. Very easily!" He begins circling Larson's body as he speaks. "Why don't I cut you a deal, Daffodil? You get complete control of your body. Can't promise it won't fight back, but you can have it! What do you think?"

"I..." Even if their freedom will just be a source of entertainment... That sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? There must be a catch. "...What do you want in exchange?"

"Oh, thank you, your royal Highness, you are oh so kind to think of me!" Kayne mockingly bows to the corpse in front of him. "Clever thinking, though. There does have to be a catch, right?" He taps his chin and hums, leaving a bloody fingerprint where he touches his own skin. "I know! How about this - you have to figure it all out on your own. From scratch." T

hey've started in worse conditions, haven't they? But this time they could have it all - their own body, their own space, free will... It really does seem like Kayne doesn't realise that he's offering so much for so little.

"Deal."

"You won't regret this. Just remember to look both ways!"

The world tilted, spun, and went black.

Suddenly, Yellow feels a light chill. A light breeze brushing over their skin among what felt like a heavy downpour. They crack their eyes (their own eyes!) open.

The sky is slowly growing darker as night descends upon the woods they now find themself in, heavy clouds hanging over their head - a stark contrast to the blistering heat of the desert they were in before. Yellow is very thankful for the change. Even among the noise of the rain they can hear distant birdsong.

Yellow slowly turns their head, spotting a moving light in the distance. Slowly, carefully, they raise themself from the sitting position they found themself to be in. Any movement turned out to be much more difficult than they thought it would be. (How did Arthur make it seem so easy, even despite him grunting and groaning at any movement?) Their limbs don't quite listen to them, but, propping themself up against a tree, they stand up.

Another light drifts through the woods, and Yellow decides to investigate. Standing up was comparatively easy enough, but walking was a different beast altogether. Still, pushing themself along the trees, they make their way to what seems to be a paved road. They stand in the middle of it, letting their bare feet get used to something more solid than the forest floor they were walking along moments ago.

They don't notice the approaching car in time, and neither does the driver notice them through the heavy rain. Most they manage to see is a bright flash of light rapidly approaching them, like a comet racing its way towards them.

Notes:

HOOEY first fic ever!!!! so so excited to write this. had to revisit this and change some settings because it turns out i checked the wrong box and didn't set this to be a multi chapter fic....! but it's fine it's okay. i fixed it now.

so this turned out to be MUCH shorter than i thought it would be lmao. im fine with it either way, i got everything i wanted in there! i dont think ill manage regular updates but i can still try to write regularly! stay tuned and stuff

 

AS OF RIGHT NOW ALREADY WORKING ON A NEW CHAPTERRRRR best part of it so far is being able to come up with new characters. so so happy i decided to start writing this <3

Chapter 2: The Nurse

Summary:

An awakening, a hospital stay, an outside perspective.

Notes:

as a warning, yellow is entirely referred to using he/him pronouns in this chapter! additional warnings:
- passing discussion of death during the war
- general description of staying at a hospital (food, medication, surgery, that sort of thing)
- really brief mention of a car crash
- ?? i dont know im not sure what else might need warning

Rose listens to the sound of her shoes clicking against the hospital floor as she walks down the corridor. It's not unusual to have a patient arrive at night, and while births are always stressful, it's wonderful to get to see a new life begin. The baby was born healthy — a sweet, lively little girl. The mother said that she hadn't thought of a name yet, and Rose told her that she was so happy for her, and that the right name will come to her mind in time.

The nurse walks past several private wards until she finds the right door. The recent admission has proven particularly troublesome; the patient entrusted into her care didn't have any documents, so she'd taken to calling him John Doe. He had apparently survived a car crash, the surgery was paid for by the man that had hit John, one Mr. Joseph Croft. He told Rose that he collided with him when John was apparently standing in the middle of a highway, and he was wearing nothing but a long, yellow cloak.

Rose carefully knocks on the door, just in case, and in response she hears hurried shuffling from inside the room. Her eyebrows immediately fly up.

"I'm coming inside, I hope that's okay," she calls out, unsure what to say. It's less that she's never been in this situation before and more that she's so surprised by the fact that her John Doe might be awake that she forgets how to react appropriately.

Rose slowly pushes open the door to see ruffled bedsheets and, among them, sitting up all on his own, her patient.

"Good..." She looks up at the clock above the door. 4 in the morning. "...morning, mister John Doe—"

"I'm not fucking John," the man snarls in return. His hands curl into fists, holding tightly onto his blanket.

"Of course. We didn't find any documents on your person when you got here. I am Rose Becker, I have been looking after you since you got here. It's nice to see you can sit up by yourself, mister..?"

The patient frowns, furrows his brows, but gives no response. A war veteran, maybe. But that, combined with how he was found... Probably an Arkham boy? God knows all kinds of things go on in that city, Rose is still thankful she moved to New York six years ago.

"Do you remember your name, sir?"

No response again. The man looks away, almost ashamed. *D

 

Does he have a name?

"It's quite alright. We could come up with one for you, at least for the time being. How about..." Oh no. Rose was never good with names, so much so that her husband, god rest his soul, had to name their little Jack. But the man has already lifted his head and his face shows a mixture of worry and hopefulness. Maybe he's hoping for something that will jog his memory.

"...Uh, well. Do you have any ideas?"

He looks around.

"No. Not really." His first non-hostile sounding words. Rose looks around for ideas for names too.

"How about we postpone this, then. You've been out for a couple weeks, it is March 30th, 1935, you are currently at Lenox Hill Hospital." Rose moves from her spot in the doors of the room and sits down on the chair by the patient's bed. "You handled surgery pretty well—"

"Surgery?"

"...Yes, sir, you were hit by a car. You sustained some damage to your legs, but we'll have you walking again in no time. You may need to use crutches at least for the first little while." A small nod. She remembers the night when he was brought into the hospital, she remembers supervising and assisting the surgery. "I think, sir, that it would be good for you to get a couple more hours of sleep. It's quite early in the morning, and we have some small things to take care of later, you could do with a shave, for example."

The man looks over her, studying her face, her clothes, as if deciding whether to trust her. "Why are you up so late, then?"

"Oh, well." Strange thing to doubt, but he did only just wake up from a coma after seemingly being involved in some sort of cult activity. "I was assisting a birth just now."

"A birth?"

"Yes, a woman was admitted maybe three hours ago. Either way, like I said, you should get some rest, sir." Rose gets up from her chair and moves across the room, towards the door. "I'll see you in an hour or two, okay, sir?"

"Okay."

"It's safe here, I promise."

Rose opens the door and leaves the room. She needs a nap. Or maybe some coffee. She wonders if Carol from the diner down the road is still up.


***


Yellow watches the door close behind the nurse. The rain continues tapping against the windowsill, a quiet, gentle sound, and the hospital bed beneath them is still warm. They slowly lower their weight onto it again.

Staring at the ceiling, they begin recollecting their memories. They remember the woods, cold, damp, they remember finding a road, the lights... The lights they saw, they must've been cars. And... The nurse said that the driver paid for their stay, too. (They didn't know hospital stays were something that needed to be paid for.) ...But why did he bring them here? They would've just kept going in his place, toss the body into some ditch.

A name. They need a name.

Yellow closes their eyes and allows themself to drift back to sleep. The sound of rain is comforting, so they keep listening to it as they slip into unconsciousness.


***

It's barely 6 in the morning, Rose didn't get much sleep in the end, so she gives up on trying to drift off and after leaving some breakfast for her son along with a note, she decides to go to a nearby diner. God knows she could use some company and someone to bounce her thoughts off of. She sheds her rain-soaked coat as she enters the diner and leaves it on the coat rack by the door and sits down at a booth, waiting for a familiar voice to call out to her and ask her for her order.

“Starting or ending a shift, darlin’?” that voice says, approaching with a notepad in hand, pencil tucked behind her ear.

"At this point it's hard to tell the end from the beginning." A small sigh, followed by a smile. "Morning, Carol. How's your shift going so far? Did your favorite stray detective come by yet?"

Carol pulls the pencil from her ear and gestures to the stools up by the counter. “You just missed him. Spent most of the early morning here nursing a coffee, lookin’ like he was waging a war of his own.” She sighs too, a few lines of concern etched on her face while she looks the empty seat over. She turns back to Rose after a moment. “Anyway. Waitress-customer confidentiality. What’ll you be having?” The pencil hovers over the notepad.

Rose looks over the menu in front of her, even though she's been here enough times to memorize it. "How about just some ham and eggs, Carol darling? And some coffee, too. And, if you're not busy, come sit with me, I've some news to share."

“News?” Carol’s face lights up conspiratorially. The pencil slips back behind her ear. “I’ll make time, love. You just hold on a sec, I’ll get that done.” With that, she’s off like a shot.

Rose rests her chin in her hand and looks out the window, watching the rain ease off as she waits for her order. The people that walk past the diner move quickly, hurriedly, but looking at their faces makes it clear that most of them are still not quite awake. She turns over her small interaction with her patient in her head, thinking of which parts to share with Carol, plans her day out, runs over what her schedule will be for today.

Carol comes back with a plate of food and two cups of steaming coffee - one sweet and with creamer, one black - and slips into the booth opposite Rose. She takes a sip from the sweetened coffee and meets Rose’s eye seriously. “Alright, sweetheart. Spill.”
Rose gently slaps her hands on the table. "You remember I told you about Judith calling in? Well, she was admitted last night, she gave birth to this adorable little girl. Yells loud as anything, but hey, that's usually a good sign, isn't it?" As Carol nods along to her, she continues. "And, do you remember that man that was brought into the hospital by Mr. Croft the other week? What do you know, he woke up last night! Can't quite figure out if he's an Arkham boy or a veteran, but he's certainly got a strange demeanour to him. Doesn't know his name, we'll think on that later, didn't have any ID on him either. I'll be taking care of him when I'm back at the hospital, I had Sophie look after him while I go back home for some rest. Hopefully she didn't disturb him too much."

“Your John Doe’s awake… I’ll be,” Carol muses. She leans in across the table, lowering her voice. “If you’re thinkin’ he’s a little shady, I could ask my sweet detective to go check him out next time he’s in. Off the record, all that. He can’t arrest him or nothing, but he can give him a bit of a shakedown.”

"Carol, your sweet detective is clearly influencing you. He's a patient, for goodness's sake!" Rose shakes her head a bit before leaning in. "Though I do think that could be of benefit." She picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip. "If the poor boy can't find anything to jog his memory, maybe there're some legal traces of him."

Carol raises her hands in mock-defense. “Hey, I’m the last one who wants some poor amnesiac behind bars, believe me, sweetheart, I just mean he’d be able to rattle something loose. Unofficially. As a favour to a nosy friend who serves his skinny ass coffee from sunset to sunrise.” A pause from her while she sips her coffee. “Your John Doe just sounds like he has a story to tell.”

"Oh, when I called him that he got so defensive. But at least that means we know for sure that that's not his name." Rose begins making her way through her breakfast. It's not anything fancy, if anything, she could easily make the same at home, but she'd rather have some company to share gossip with while she eats. "Maybe a clue for your detective to latch on to."

Carol wiggles her eyebrows a little. “Something to prod him with, then. He’s always talking about how finding the right angle, the right knife to twist, will have people spilling all kinds of secrets. Like I don’t already know, I mean, c’mon. I run a diner, sweetheart. I can work a mark. Anyway,” she interrupts herself with another sip of coffee. “I’ll let him know. And he’ll let me know. And I’ll let you know.”

"Maybe you should interrogate the man yourself, then." She's not letting Carol into the ward and they both know it.

“Maybe I should,” Carol replies, stroking her chin and putting on a faux-pensive expression. “I bet I could crack that egg wide open.”

Rose lets out a snort, barely keeping herself from letting Carol have the satisfaction of making her laugh. "You're terrible, Carol." She finishes her food and sips on her coffee. "Either way, how much do I owe you? I gotta run to the hospital, as fun as it is chatting with you."

“Just 25 cents, darlin’, coffee’s on me for the chat,” Carol replies, already moving to start cleaning the table up.


***


Rose makes her way across the street, walks into the hospital. Greets the man at the reception desk. Puts on her uniform. All as usual. Another day at the hospital, a day she's ready for.

She knocks on her patient's door and enters.

"Good morning, sir. I brought breakfast, some porridge, some toast and a cup of tea."

"I don't need to eat."

"A lack of hunger isn't unusual, but I assure you—"

"I don't need to eat."

She looks up at the man in the bed from where she was setting down the tray. He's staring at her almost... defiantly? Like he's fighting back against an oppressor. Maybe he is a veteran after all.

"...Sir, I assure you, the food is completely safe. It may not be the best meal you'll ever have in your life, but it's just something to make your stomach feel better. Do you think you could give it a try?"

He looks down at the tray, wrinkling his nose at its contents.

He's clearly not going to make this easy.

Oh well. Rose has served as a warzone nurse. She's seen worse.

A few minutes later, she has the man holding the tray with food in his lap, patiently talking him through the plans for the morning.

"We'll start with some hygiene procedures — a bath, a shave, all of that. I assume a doctor has already checked in on you, yes? I left a note for that to be done.

The man nods, even if he's narrowing his eyes in suspicion at her.

"After that, we'll see about potentially prescribing you some medicine and some vitamins. I have been following procedures to keep you from getting bedsores and stiff joints, so if you experience either of those, do say so."

Maybe a bit too much information.

"Either way. You should give your food a try, sir."

The man pokes at the porridge with a spoon for a little while, but none of it goes into his mouth. Fair enough, Rose never liked it either. He picks up a piece of toast, examines it as if he's never seen bread before. Gives it a sniff, even. And, to Rose's relief, carefully places it into his mouth and bites off a small piece.

Rose, to make sure the man isn't feeling awkward because of her watching him eat, moves from her chair to pull the curtains back and open the window so the room has fresh air. The man flinches at the sudden burst of light, but turns his head towards the sound of birdsong as he slowly, thoughtfully chews on the piece of toast he bit off.

"How has your night been, sir? I trust you slept okay? It rained tonight, and the sound often helps me sleep."

The patient swallows down his food.

"I don't need to sleep." But he also didn't look like he stayed up all night. He pauses for a little bit, and then adds, "It was fine."

Notes:

ok so i WAS going to have yellow be named by the end of the chapter but it's fine. i think id rather have the chapter where they pick a name be entirely from their perspective.

also i had SO SO SO SO SO much fun writing rose im actually super obsessed with her. we as a fandom collectively need to make up more middle aged women to take over canon <3

AND!!!!! BONUS POINTS IF YOU KNOW WHAT FIC CAROL IS FROM!!!! (go read Nameless As A River by tobibius. me and him wrote the diner segment together and it was so so fun.)