Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Dangers of Traumatic Brain Injuries

The emergency broadcast had instructed everyone to stay indoors and remain hidden. Yet that was pretty difficult to do, considering there were no intact buildings left to hide in.

The once peaceful campus William had come to call home was now reduced to ash within what felt like minutes. Smoke choked the sky, muting formerly vibrant colors into a miserable gray. The only colors that remained untouched were the violent crimson and orange hues of the all-encompassing fire engulfing the horizon. He couldn't even tell what time of day it was anymore, and he had long lost his phone during the scramble to escape the chaos.

The dorm was the first building attacked.

Just thinking of it brought back flashes of the cacophony of screams cut off as former classmates went from human to fleshy mortar between the slabs of concrete. Of the face of the girl who lived across the hall from him, a girl always smiling, always brimming with whimsy and joy. More specifically, he could vividly remember exactly how her face had distorted into a gelatinous maw from the whiplash of an imperceptibly powerful force, tearing through the building— one of the impostors wearing Mark's face.

Oh god. He was going to be sick. Why had they stayed on campus of all places? Of course, an evil Mark from another dimension would mess this place up—

"WILLIAM!" A voice barked out, bringing him back to his senses.

Rick firmly gripped his shoulders, knelt down just enough to meet his gaze. William realized he had frozen in place, pinpricks of blood under his nails where he had begun to itch at his arms too forcefully.

"You can't lose it yet; we are so close to getting out of here. Come back to me." Rick instructed, his tone strong, dependable, safe.

Behind him stood Amber and Kyle, whom they had run into sometime inbetween watching his hallmate explode and the dorms fully collapsing. While Amber's eyes remained fixated on the sky, searching for any signs of the Invincibles, Kyle offered a smile in his direction, a weak but comforting attempt at encouragement. They were alive, and miraculously relatively uninjured— disregarding the bruises and small cuts that mirrored his own. At least three people William knew were still breathing, and that truth would have to be enough for right now.

After a shaky, deep breath, William nodded curtly. "I'm okay. Just tired, we can go." There wasn't any time for these emotions now, but if they survived all of this, perhaps William would allow himself a well-deserved panic attack as a treat.

Rick studied him for a beat longer, then nodded in return before gesturing them all to continue behind him. Wordlessly, Amber, Kyle, and William followed in pursuit of the android. Rick led them around the worst of the carnage, dexterously maneuvering the group through, over, and around the blazing ruins.

"We are almost to your car, William! All of you stay close to me. It isn't much further now— we just have to get through this alleyway, which will open up right to the parking lot." Rick yelled back behind him before darting into the passageway.

As they ran, William's heart clutched, this time not out of fear, or even exhaustion, just a deep ache. A longing.

God, he'd missed him.

He couldn't imagine what state he would be in if Rick hadn't been there with him when this all started. That's if he would even still be alive. William hadn't seen him in so long, but he supposed it was natural considering the current state of their… relationship, or rather— the lack thereof.

They were on a "break", whatever that meant. After D.A Sinclair, the two had apparently become a bit too codependent, gotten too heavy too quickly. Rick had been the one to suggest it, said he and his therapist agreed he needed time to grieve the person he used to be, and time to feel human again.

On his own.

William had hated, no— loathed the idea, but had agreed despite his reservations.

How could he not?

How could he dare to deny Rick the privacy he needed after such an utterly dehumanizing experience? He had seen how severely it affected him firsthand on that roof with Donald, and he refused to risk losing him forever.

Still, he couldn't lie; it hurt.

Rationally, he understood the need for space, knew it wasn't personal. Rick needed this, and William just needed to be understanding.

All the same, the smallest, most loathsome part of him knew why he hated the idea so badly; it felt like a rejection. It felt like the realization of all his insecurities, that he wasn't good enough for Rick or anyone, for that matter. That he was ultimately… replaceable.

Anxiety really was a bitch.

Regardless, he gave Rick exactly what he asked for— space. William just wanted to be there for him however he could, and if what Rick needed at the moment was a friend, he could be that. Even if he hated it, even if the thought of them losing what they had made him sick to his stomach.

Today had been the literal first time in weeks they had hung out, Rick being the one to first break the awkward silence between them via an invitation to a casual, friendly movie marathon. So, of course, the universe had to pick that very same day to manifest up 18 murderous versions of his best friend to emotionally cock-block him.

How perfect, did the universe know how hard it was not to jump that beautiful man's bones? He'd been so good, so patient, and look where that got him, traumatized and scarred for life. A poor tradeoff if he had anything to say about it.

His self-pitying was interrupted by a crack, a crumble, and a scream.

Seeming to respond to his distaste at her grand design, the universe sent him a gift in the form of the side of the wall collapsing, sending a giant piece of concrete plummeting towards him.

Cause that was just what he needed right now!

Refusing to let the last sound his ex-boyfriend/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-they-were and friends heard him make be a scream, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the credits to roll.

Then, just as suddenly, a hard shove to his gut sent him sailing backward, ricocheting off the ground like a skipping stone. If not for the ringing in his ears, William would have been able to hear the worryingly loud crack the back of his head made as it slammed against the concrete.

Stars, more than he had seen in his life, filled his vision. They danced through the sky, seeming to disregard whether he had his eyes closed or not. Eventually, the ringing subsided, and the stars blinked out from view. With his faculties returned, he pulled himself to a sitting position to better take in his surroundings.

Where he once stood was now replaced by a mountain of asphalt and debris. Though, more importantly, his friends were nowhere to be seen.

"No!" William cried, scrambling forwards as quickly as his body could manage. He violently began tearing at the concrete, ignoring the stinging pain as his fingertips and palms were scraped raw with the effort. The earlier panic reared its ugly head once more, imagining what he might find under all the rubble, of caved-in skulls, flattened into near nothingness—

"—liam!"

His hands froze in place at the sound. He couldn't tell if he imagined it or not, but he could almost swear he heard his name. 

"William!" Amber's voice called again from beyond the rubble, "William, can you hear me?"

It was faint— but undeniably there— unmistakably alive.

His desperate sobs blurred into relieved blubbering as he rested his forehead against the now bloodied sheet of concrete. "Yeah! I can hear you—Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me— are you all okay? All alive?"

"Well, alive as I can be!" A voice called out, so obviously belonging to Kyle, followed by Rick's."We are all okay. Amber was still looking for the Invincibles and managed to push you out of the way before the worst of it fell."

William couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Of course it was Amber who had saved him; she was never going to let him live that down. Yet at the expression of amusement, a sharp, blinding pain shot through his temples, causing him to wince. His hand instinctively shot to the back of his head, and as the hand retreated, he was met with a warm, viscous liquid dripping down his fingers.

Oh, joyous day. He was bleeding. From a head injury of all things. Again, that was just what he fucking needed!

Another crack rattled from above him, sending down a spray of smaller bits of rubble from the already crumbling wall. He couldn't stay much longer; the two buildings on either side of them were already groaning as they rapidly grew more unstable.

"Rick, listen to me, you have to get out of here. You have my spare car keys anyway! Get Amber, Kyle, and yourself the fuck out of here!" He yelled, pulling himself to his feet. The entrance to the alleyway they had first come through wasn't blocked yet, but still far enough that he worried that if he waited much longer, he would find himself trapped.

"What?! We are absolutely not leaving you here—"

"Rick," William interrupted, voice sharp and unrelenting. "If you even try to get to me, this whole place will cave in again!"

Maddeningly, he could hear the three begin to argue over each other, all insisting on the importance of not leaving William behind. While their near suicidal level of loyalty certainly warmed his heart, they were being stupid. William's only way forward was to go backward, and they were only a few steps from freedom. He couldn't let them pass up this chance.

"Please, just hear me out. I will find you all again somehow; I'll just be taking the scenic route. So please, please just listen to me and get out of here!" He pleaded now, bracing himself for another onslaught of refusals.

For a moment, silence was his only response. Then, Amber yelled back, "Fine, but I'll hold you to that! Especially since you'll be volunteering with me the rest of your miserable gay life!"

The tension melted from his shoulders. If Amber was going, Kyle would follow, and naturally, Rick wouldn't be able to let the two of them go it alone. He was made for this, saving people; it was one of the many reasons he'd fallen in love with him.

" …You have to make it out of this, William, okay? Promise me, promise me you'll be alright," Rick's voice sounded out, waiting for confirmation.

William smiled softly, trying to ignore the warmth of his own blood beginning to drip down his neck. He'd handle that later.

"Alright, alright… I promise." 

It had been hours since he saw another person, or, well, one still alive.

He had spent an eternity trying to find a way back to the student parking lot, to no avail. It was hopeless. So, he picked a direction that was the least on fire and walked, and walked, and walked some more— all while trying to ignore that his head was really starting to fucking hurt.

As he continued to wander forward mindlessly, his mind followed his lead, his thoughts drifting to subjects perhaps best left unthought.

Where was Mark? Was he still alive? What about Eve, or god—Oliver? Based on Mark's many, many frustrated rants as well as being a firsthand witness to Oliver's inclination toward chaos, William knew that little bug boy had a bad habit of disregarding his own safety. William didn't think that even Debbie could convince him to stay out of this fight.

Shit, what about Debbie?

What if one of the Invincibles tried to hurt her? He couldn't begin to imagine it. Different universe or not, wouldn't she still be their mother?

Then again, he hadn't been able to picture any version of Mark to be capable of murder, yet he had witnessed enough corpses today that it was clear his imagination regarding unspeakable horrors wasn't nearly creative enough. As much as he was worried for them, William knew Mark, Eve, and even Oliver were powerful enough to take care of themselves if it came down to it, but Debbie was just like him, human.

He could only hope that the Cecil guy Mark complained about all the time had gotten her out before things got too bad. Though it would have been nice if he could have offered him the same courtesy...

The relative silence was pierced by the muffled sound of an alarm. The sound seemed to almost ring in tandem with his heart, and for the first time since he was separated, William felt hope. That had to be someone's phone, which meant he could at long last call for help, or at least just see how the world was faring against the Invincibles.

He dropped to his knees to begin combing through the debris. Holy shit— It was so close he swore he could feel the vibrations— he just had to find it. His movements grew more manic; he was so close, the ringing was getting louder! The pounding in his head went unnoticed, though occasionally his search was disrupted by his vision going blurry for a moment. Weird, but not important.

After a considerable time searching, he found the source of the noise.

Unfortunately for him, it was not a phone.

A severed arm lay before him, the alarm mockingly sounding from the analog watch around its wrist.

At least he finally knew the time. 5:55 AM.

If Amber were here, she'd say something about that being lucky, quoting one of her various astrology or numerology books. Shit. He already missed her so badly.

Defeated, William gently covered the arm back up, offering apologies for disturbing their rest. He buried his face in his hands, taking in a slow breath. 

He could feel his body getting weaker already, but he had to keep going; he promised Rick he would survive this, so he had to at least try. Even if the effort would kill him, at least he'd given it his all.

While he rose to his feet to walk, he turned to find, about 10 feet in front of him, another person facing him.

Shit! When the hell did they even get there?

William squinted as he tried to make out the details of whoever the person was. His long-distance vision was oddly blurrier than usual.

Wait… was that…?

The adrenaline that gripped his heart and mind dissipated in an instant. He recognized that face without question.

It was Mark.

His Mark.

Well, he had to assume this was the real one, considering that this Mark had yet to turn him into pink mist.

Though it was a bit weird that he had no mask… not to mention the old suit…

But red flags be damned, his best friend was here, not one of those murderous, freak wannabes.

Fucking finally.

He beamed, beginning to call out Mark’s name, though all that came out was a pathetic wheeze. His voice was shot, all used up from all the screaming and crying that came with trying to survive an apocalyptic-level catastrophe. Mark remained frozen in place as William attempted to maneuver past the rubble to reach him. Why was he just standing there? Surely he still recognized him? 

By his second step forward, William blinked as he felt his legs buckle out from beneath him. Instantaneously, Mark closed the distance between them, catching the brunette before William could even fully process that he had fallen.

“Well, I'm glad it’s actually you.” William managed to gasp out, now held upright in the hero’s arms.

Damn it, he hadn’t realized just how drained he was until he stopped moving. Adrenaline must have been all that sustained him, and in its absence, his body ached with fatigue. Not to mention, he couldn’t tell if it was the fact that he was probably at least mildly concussed, but something was off.

The way Mark had yet to say anything was extremely out of character. Shouldn’t he be yelling at him for almost dying or something? Make some kinda joke about how William clinging to him like this was “so gay”?

Or how about just saying literally anything?

William leaned back as much as he could without seeing stars, struggling to focus his vision enough to see Mark’s face.

Damn— based on Mark’s expression, gawking back at him with his jaw agape in a mixture of shock, horror, and a third mystery emotion he couldn't quite place, William figured he must look worse than he thought he did. Instead of growing more concerned, he found himself deeply amused. Mark looked so endearingly fucking stupid with that look on his face. So stupid, in fact, that William couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. Unfortunately for him, laughing was yet another mistake, as the throbbing in his head returned in full force.

“Ugh…” William groaned, pressing his palms over his eyes.

"———! ————?" A muffled voice demanded from in front of him. Where was that coming from? It was way too loud.

Something gripped his chin, causing William's hands to fall from his face as he found his face being turned to meet another.

Oh, right. It was Mark. He knew that. His face was so close to William's that their noses faintly brushed against one another.

"————? ————————?"

"Huh?" William croaked as he looked back up at him. Mark's voice began again, except he still couldn’t get his brain to focus enough to comprehend anything he was saying.

Everything was blurring together. His words, their breaths, where his body began and ended, the nagging feeling he was missing something. Something important.

Nevertheless, William tried to understand him by attempting to read Mark's lips. Wait, when did they get covered in blood?

Frustratingly, Mark's lips were all he could focus on, rather than the words those same lips formed— which was the whole thing he was supposed to be trying to decipher. He just couldn't stop thinking, Whose blood was it? Was it his?

Mark’s grip on him tightened as he again repeated whatever he had asked of him more urgently, “———? ———! ——————!?”

Yeah, if William wasn't sure before, he was now— he definitely had a concussion. Everything was just too loud, too bright.

But that wasn’t important; Mark was here, alive. That’s all that mattered.

His head pulsated as the weight of continuous wakefulness consumed him. He would be out any second now. With what little strength he had, William was able to get out a final plea before slipping into unconsciousness.

“Help me.”

[ MASKLESS ]

As he watched Upstate wither and burn into nothingness from the sky, he found it wasn't filling him with nearly as much satisfaction as it should have.

The dream he and William never got to reach, rooming together in the dorms, skipping 8 am classes after nights of senseless drinking, mundane nights just existing together in silence, stolen from them in a moment.

Senseless. Cruel. Completely unnecessary.

So, regardless of the universe, he figured that the campus shouldn't remain standing without the only student who actually mattered in attendance.

Nevertheless, the gnawing, endless emptiness nestled between his ribs remained the same as it had before. Ever-present, demanding to be acknowledged, to be felt.

Burning down one college campus couldn't bring William back. It wasn't nearly enough destruction. The pyre needed more kindling, more lives sacrificed in the name of his grief. For as long as he complied, Angstrom would give him a universe where he would have all he needed.

His love, his greatest loss— William.

God. He missed him.

From below, a sudden, faint trail of movement stirred the otherwise lifeless expanse. A single person disturbed the already settled ashes, seeming to be looking for something. Huh, he hadn't realized anyone would be dense enough to still be wandering about. 

Still, it was perfect timing; this was just the distraction he needed! Perhaps if they made a good enough case, he would let them go without too many injuries.

With a smile, he began to head back down to the ground, that is, until his descent was interrupted by his heart constricting in on itself, threatening to stop entirely. Under layers of soot, grime, and blood was a face Mark would recognize anywhere.

He had to be dreaming.

William.

He hadn't even considered that William existed in this universe. Had only assumed that if this version of himself was stupid enough to incur Angstrom Levy's wrath, he surely must not have anyone worth protecting. Well, that was until he saw this William with his own two eyes. He was alone, entirely unprotected, and even at this distance, anyone with eyes could see he was littered with cuts and pronounced bruises. He prayed he hadn't done that to him during his rampage, landing a dozen feet behind him.

Still unsure, not wanting to break the illusion if this was indeed a dream, he found himself unable to even dare to utter his name.

Maybe this William wouldn't recognize him, as it was entirely possible he didn't even know this universe's Mark—that the other version of himself meant nothing to William. That he didn't knowingly leave William unprotected with various sadistic versions of himself running around.

They might have simply been strangers who owed each other nothing.

When William belatedly seemed to register the presence behind him, he turned quickly, eyes wide in alarm. Mark then watched him squint, trying to put together who the man in front of him could be.

Huh. So he really didn't know this other Mark. In truth, he was relieved. Of course this world's Mark hadn't just abandoned him here. That would be insane—

Except as William's face turned from anxious uncertainty to delight, Mark knew he couldn't have been more wrong. He watched in horror as the man tried to call his name, only for his voice to break midway.

Mark couldn't move, speak, or think. This William was alive, breathing, and broken. He was left to die by a version of Mark that clearly didn't hold any love for the man whose eyes had lit up just at the sight of the face they shared.

This other Mark was clearly a worse evil than he originally assumed.

When William's legs collapsed trying to reach him, Mark's body reacted before he could think, catching his fragile love before his body could fall even an inch.

"Well, I'm glad it's actually you.” William gasped, and Mark had all but to physically restrain himself from dropping to his knees.

Seeing him from afar had been hard enough, but to not only touch him, but to hold him, to be able to see his chest rise then fall with every breath— it rendered him speechless.

What could he say to explain himself to the man he betrayed every one of his moral codes for? How could he put into words the devotion that drummed in the cavity of his chest? That sang in the walls of his skull, a melody that drained out all others. An all-encompassing desire unlike anything this William surely had ever known.

Mark's eyes flittered about this William's body, taking in each bruise like the lash of a whip. He was responsible for each blemish, every wound. It was maddening.

With no warning, William leaned back, studying his face. Whatever he saw clearly entertained him, as he let out a weak laugh, cut short by a wince of pain.

"William! Are you okay?" Mark demanded, trying to figure out the source. Then he saw it: several trails of coagulated blood near the base of William's neck, trailing down from a larger surface wound further up his head.

He gripped the man's chin, turning his face to meet his own. "William? Can you look at me?"

William's eyes widened in response to their proximity, showing him all he needed to know. The man's pupils were dilated well beyond the norm, and his eyelids drooped even as he tried to hold eye contact. At some point during his assault on the campus, he could only assume William had sustained a concussion. It didn't look nearly bad enough to leave any lasting defects, but it would still require immediate medical attention.

"Huh?" William tilted his head, seemingly not hearing him.

"How long ago did you hit your head? Do you know if you passed out at any point?" Mark interrogated, feeling the rage at himself, at this universe's Mark, at everything —boil into a white, simmering heat just beneath his skin.

His jaw clenched. Now was not the time.

He would kill Mark Prime, but only after William was safe.

Despite his questioning, William only continued staring at him in confusion, his gaze flickering down to focus on Mark's lips before beginning to droop further until they were almost closed.

“William? Hey! Are you with me!?” Mark snapped, his pitch rising slightly as he grew more panicked.

In reply, the softest voice Mark had heard since the day his world ended called out to him.

“Help me.”

Those words hadn't been spoken to him in so long that he almost forgot the weight they carried.

Two words, so simple, repeated by humankind throughout the ages, a plea transcending language, race, or creed. The desire to be saved, the will to live through incomprehensible trauma, to watch the sun rise on a new dawn. The very reason he had wanted to be a hero, to help others, to protect them from evils they didn't have the power or strength to fight.

Despite all rationality, Mark found himself hoping that if William ever did find out what he had done today, he'd forgive him despite it all. That he'd always look at him like that, trusting him, relying on him, needing him alone.

Making sure to support the unconscious man's head, he gently, effortlessly, lifted him into a bridal carry. William fit so perfectly in his arms, his eyelashes fluttering in his unconscious state.

With a smile, Mark tenderly wiped the ash from his face, mesmerized by all the little ways this William differed from his own.

He had the body of a man who had only known love and light all his life. His smile lines were noticeably deeper, his face littered with freckles only the most observant eye would notice, and his body was warm to the touch. So beautifully, unmistakably alive.

Intentional or not, this universe's Mark had abandoned William.

And well, Mark was more than happy to fill that void.