Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cecil Palmer was having a very weird morning. One might argue that every morning is weird in Night Vale, and one would be right. But one would be woefully unprepared for this specific, very weird morning.

The first thing Cecil noticed is he woke up alone. While not entirely unusual during long days at the lab, Carlos had been in bed with him that night, and he never left without saying anything. Besides, as he realized quickly, this wasn’t the same bed he went to sleep in. In fact, this wasn't his bedroom at all. Or rather, it was a form his bedroom took at one point, a long time ago. The decor was woefully dated (though he couldn't quite place the date), and his old intern name tag was lying on the bedside table. 

Now, a lesser radio host may have been disoriented. But Cecil was a Night Vale citizen, and a damn good investigative journalist at that. So one thing was immediately clear:

Cecil was in the past.

This on its own wasn't particularly unusual. After all, Night Vale had plenty of time-related issues (or as Carlos adorably put it, “temporal anomalies”). So he got up as usual, since there was honestly nothing he could do about the whole “being in the past” thing. He rolled out of bed onto the floor, mumbled for far too long about this inconvenience like he didn't do it every morning, and did his morning chanting. After getting the mandatory rituals out of the way, he sighed. He just needed to get to the time machine in the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, right? More annoyed than afraid, he ran his fingers through his…

…Hair.

His hair was shorter than it should be. Usually it was to his elbows, giving him plenty to fiddle with when he got bored. But now (or rather, in the past now, which was now this now), it was cropped just above the shoulders. Cecil froze as he quickly realized why this was. He kept his hair shorter as an intern, not wanting for the typical dangers of the job to have a grapple point. Too many interns before him paid for that mistake.

Okay. Alright, he could still work with this. The body hopping variety, then! That might cause more problems if he could manage to get his hands on a time machine, but at least it meant he didn’t need to meet his past self. Meeting yourself had a tendency to go very, very badly in time travel. The common way to survive such events was to just… live through it. Make all the same decisions and eventually, one day, you’d be in the future now. The problem was, Cecil could hardly remember what he had for breakfast yesterday, let alone every decision he’s ever made over the course of… God, what year even was it? He was 19 for a long time. Nevermind, that sounded way too tedious, moving on to plan B.

…What was plan B? Shit.

Cecil lay there sprawled out on his shag carpet for an indeterminate amount of time (it's hard to determine something as fickle as time), before groaning and forcing himself to his feet. Coffee first, planning later. 

Cecil Palmer has had a very weird morning, but now he also had coffee. Sure, that didn't exactly fix the whole… trapped in his 19 year old body thing, but Cecil prided himself on the small victories! Unfortunately, this also meant he had no more excuses to procrastinate on plan B. Damn. 

After a few embarrassingly bad ideas (one involving a wind turbine, somehow, despite the fact Night Vale has exactly none of those), Cecil settled for a classic: Phone a friend.

The problem was, who? He flipped open his old phone, a battered hand-me-down from Abby with enough phone charms to count as a weapon, and scrolled through his contacts list. No, no, maybe, no…

He groaned, closing his phone. “Faceless Old Woman, are you here?” The teenage voice that came out of his mouth felt wrong, but he dismissed that as a problem for later.

“Of course I'm here.” A shiver ran up his spine. “I'm always here, Cecil. Is something wrong? I know something is wrong, of course. I know everything that happens in this town. However, you didn't even notice I had forty-eight evenly spaced holes into your fitted sheets. I worked very hard on that, you know.”

He decided to deal with that later. “Right, sorry, sooo… do you know why this is happening?”

“I know why many things happen. I know why your dresser has tiny scratch marks at the bottom. I know why the wind howls dissonant screams when you try to sleep. I know why the universe started, and why it will finally unravel.” She paused. “...But no, that one is a mystery even to me.”

Great. Cecil took a long swig of his coffee, silently cursing the fact his intern paycheck wasn't enough to get a good claw hammer.

“So…” Cecil started again, “you don't know what I should do to get back?”

“I never said that.”

“What?” Cecil sat up straight very suddenly. His back didn't pop at the posture change, which was one nice perk of youth. “Oh, that's great! Lights in the sky, I was getting worried for a second there. So, what's the plan?”

“I also never said I would tell you.” Another groan from Cecil. 

“A hint? Please?”

The room was silent for a moment, save for the quiet peeling noise of paint being stripped from drywall.

“You will be late for work if you don't leave now. I filled your tailpipe with scorpions last night.” Cecil opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. “That is my hint. You are a smart man, Cecil. A smart man with a tailpipe full of very deadly scorpions.”

The shiver at the nape of his neck subsided. Now fully alone (or at least, as alone as one could be in Night Vale), Cecil slumped forward and put his head in his hands. He was on his own, at an unknown point in his life, and no one was going to help him. He'd faced worse odds, even time-related odds, but these were some of the most frustrating. He missed Carlos already.

After another long moment of what was definitely not sulking, Cecil gathered the willpower to get up and quickly snag his name tag and messenger bag from the bedroom. As he left the house, he muttered a quick apology to the Faceless Old Woman for not admiring the sheets on the off chance she was still listening.

It felt strange, to walk through in a place so familiar, but without all the changes to come. The dog park is unbuilt, the Old Night Vale Opera House still puppy-free. As neighborhoods turned to businesses, the differences all added up to a sense of uncanny nostalgia, like walking his way through a worn photograph.

Despite himself, Cecil stood still in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up. The sky was a hazy orange, and no clouds lingered in front of the scorching desert sun. If he kept looking at that familiar sky, the one that stays despite all changes by human hands, maybe this situation would feel more real. Or maybe he would ignore that reality until he could face his predicament. Either worked.

But he didn’t have time to make that decision. Because as he stood there, admittedly blocking the sidewalk, someone walked straight into him and he fell to the pavement.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve looked where I was going. I mean, you were just standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but…”

As the voice trailed off, Cecil bristled with recognition and looked up at the horrid person who had so rudely ran into him. He stared into this person’s eyes, and—

Wait, eyes?

If he hadn’t heard the voice first, he wouldn’t have recognized the man who stood before him. His curls were in a messy mullet, clearly cut on his own, and his brown roots were clearly visible above the grown out blond. His face was unscarred. And most importantly, his intact yellow eyes, which stared down at him with mild concern.

“ Kevin? ”

Chapter Text

The person in front of him blinked in surprise, an act that Cecil found bitterly amusing considering the fact future Kevin couldn't blink.

“What? I mean, that is my name, but how did you know that?”

Right. They hadn't even met. “...Intuition?”

Kevin stared at him skeptically for a moment.

“Okay, sure! I mean, I don't know much about Night Vale, you might all be psychics, and I don't want to… you know, assume?” He paused, fiddling with a beaded bracelet. “Uh, but I'm not one of those, so what's your name?”

“Oh, uh…” Cecil, realizing he was still on the pavement for this interaction, stood up and brushed some sand off his tights. He gestured to his intern name tag. “I'm Cecil.”

“Oh, nifty! I'm a radio intern too. Cecil, Cecil, I've heard that name…” Kevin bounced on his toes slightly, tilting his head from side to side like the positioning would jog his memory. “Oh! You're the person the angel told me to meet!”

Loud sirens blared in the distance, making Kevin jump slightly.

“ Angels aren't real .” Cecil whispered, despite their legal status in the future. Laws were a construct of their time, of course, but he wasn't entirely sure how well that excuse would work on the Secret Police.

Luckily, Kevin seemed to catch on. “Right. Well, the… suspiciously angel-shaped figure told me I should visit Night Vale today because, and I quote, ‘check this shit out’. Which is, you know, not a very compelling argument, but I was kind of terrified I was going to get… smited? Smote?”

“Smote.”

“Smote if I didn't agree, so I packed my bag and took Route 800 out of the Bluffs as fast as I could.”

Cecil held back a scoff at the nickname. The Bluffs was still a dumb nickname, but he had bigger worms to can. Or however the saying goes. Namely, Erika wouldn't show up in town until Josie started seeing them around, and that wouldn't be for… years, probably? So if the angels were already here, it probably meant they knew why he was here too.

The issue was, much like the Faceless Old Woman, angels could be rather cryptic.

“Did these… illegal beings say anything else about me?”

Kevin shook his head, much to Cecil's disappointment.

“No, only that I should look for a person named Cecil.” He laughed, a nervous thing that was so different from the delirious giggles Cecil was used to. “Honestly, I'm glad I found you? I'm kind of lost.”

Even though Cecil had heard this version of Kevin on the radio before during that stray broadcast, it was still surreal to put a face to that voice. He was largely free of the scarring of Strex—though, as Kevin tucked a stray hair behind his ear, Cecil noted the scars on his hands were still the same. He'd always assumed those were Strex's doing, and the implications of the burns were… concerning. Maybe they were an intern thing, though. Cecil had plenty of battle scars from the job too, after all.

More interestingly, though, was his fashion sense. It was closer to Cecil's, wearing a cropped yellow hoodie with oversized suns on the drawstrings, a short patchwork skirt clearly sewn by hands, a belt made of a repurposed bike chain, and mismatched fuzzy leg warmers. Strex Kevin would never wear anything so blatantly unprofessional, even casually. Lauren had chastised Cecil's recording leotard plenty of times before, and as he suddenly realized, Kevin might have been told the same thing. Did they really used to be that similar? They were doubles, of course, but how much of that did Strex take away…

“Cecil?”

Kevin's concerned voice interrupted his thoughts, and—lights in the sky, it was weird to see him frown . Even Carlos said he'd only seen Kevin frown a handful of times during their stay together. Cecil never had, but… somehow, it felt strangely cathartic, to see a Kevin who hadn't yet been trained out of that expression.

“Yeah, uh…” Cecil glanced around for a place for them to talk. As much as he loved standing in the middle of the sidewalk, the two of them were starting to get annoyed looks from other residents. He glanced up at the street sign—Ouroboros Road. The diner would definitely still be here, right? “Have you had breakfast yet? We can talk at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner.”

Kevin's eyes lit up, both figuratively and literally. Did his eyes glow in the sun, like how Cecil's lit up in the dark? Yet another parallel stolen from them.

“Oh!” Kevin said, apparently realizing just that moment that he hadn't eaten. He gave an awkward smile, a real smile. Cecil wasn't sure he'd ever get used to that. “I guess I was too distracted by the ang—” Sirens. “—the, uh, visitor. Do they have waffles?”

“What? No, of course not. What kind of self-respecting diner serves waffles? ” Cecil was baffled by the mere notion. “We have invisible pancakes, obviously .”

Kevin opened his mouth as if to argue, but he hesitated. “...You know, I don't think I've ever had a pancake.”

“ Never? ” Cecil gasped and put his hand to his chest in faux offense. “Alright, that's it. We're having breakfast. Kevin of Desert Bluffs, you're joining me at the Moonlite this instant!”

As Cecil walked off to lead the way, he heard Kevin laugh behind him. “Well, if you say so!”

After the two had settled in at a booth in the back, Kevin sipped his coffee. Cecil stared at the cup in horror. 

The other intern looked up at him in concern. “What? What's wrong?”

“How much creamer do you need? That cup is, like, half sugar. I'm pretty sure that doesn't even count as coffee anymore.”

“Cecil, I'm not going to drink black coffee .” Kevin rolled his eyes as he took another sip. “I enjoy having taste buds, thank you very much.”

Cecil huffed and took a bite of his invisible pancake. “Some things stayed the same, I guess…”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

He froze. Shit. Well, he couldn't exactly keep up the charade of not knowing Kevin forever, especially considering his track record for secret keeping. He briefly considered lying, but that wouldn't really help much. And besides, an angel apparently sent Kevin here, which was hopefully their way of helping him sort this mess out. Or they just wanted to mess with him. Either was equally possible.

Still, Cecil could use basically any help. And if Kevin used to be anything like him, he wouldn’t stop pressing once he had a lead. So he set down his fork with a sigh and looked up at Kevin.

“Kevin,” he started carefully, “I'm from the future.”

Chapter Text

Kevin stared at him for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table. He pouted slightly as he considered this information. It was still so weird to see Kevin’s face with any expression but a grisly smile. It suited him, somehow.

“Huh.” He set down his cup. “I guess that’s how you knew my name, then. Have we met in the future?”

Cecil held back a wince. He knew the question was probably coming, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. What was he supposed to say? Yeah, I tried to strangle you and then you took over my radio station and killed a bunch of people . That was true, but that didn’t mean he should take it out on this Kevin, a Kevin who hadn’t yet heard the name Strexcorp.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. This Kevin had been nothing but helpful so far, and it… wasn’t his fault, was it? As much as he disliked the Kevin he knew, that version was created under far different circumstances than the one who sat across from him now. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, especially with everything else going on right now.

“...You could say that. But anyways, I’m kind of stuck here? And I mean, I know you don’t really know me, but…” Cecil glanced away. It felt strange asking Kevin for help. “...You’re kind of the only lead I have.”

Kevin sat up straighter. “Oh, I’d love to help! I might not know you very well, but I wouldn’t leave anyone stranded without a helping hand! Unfortunately, I’m not really an expert on time travel… Does Night Vale have any time machines?”

“There’s one in the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, but… I mean, it’s forbidden. So I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, this—” He gestured to himself. “—isn’t what I look like in the future. I’m stuck in my younger body.”

“...Ah.” Kevin leaned back. “Well, damn.”

Cecil started snickering at this. Hearing Kevin swear was so surprising, he couldn’t help but laugh. People at Strex weren’t allowed to use “unhappy language”, and certainly not someone as influential as Kevin.

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, nothing, just—” Cecil snorted. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”

Kevin tilted his head. It was one of the few habits that carried over to his future self, but the expression on his face was one of bewilderment instead of a morbidly curious smile.

“ Really? I mean, I’m not a particularly vulgar person, but I don’t shy away from swearing. I wonder why I don’t do it in the future?”

Shit. Quick, think of a diversion!

“Oh, well, you know…” Think, think! “...We’re both radio hosts in the future! I listen to your broadcasts and, you know, can’t swear on community radio! So, uh, that’s why. Totally.”

Luckily, if Kevin picked up on his nervousness, he was too distracted by the prospect of being the host of his very own show. His eyes went wide and he started grinning, leg bouncing with excitement. Cecil couldn’t really blame him. After all, he would’ve had the same reaction if someone told him that as an intern.

“We are? Oh, that’s so exciting! I have to tell Vanessa when I get back to the Bluffs!”

“Like, Intern Vanessa? Huh, didn’t know you two interned together.”

Kevin nodded. “You’ve met her, then! We’re childhood friends, so we both applied at the same time.” He gestures to the beaded bracelet on his wrist, a handmade creation in pinks and yellows. “She made this bracelet for me.”

Cecil had never met Vanessa before her death. Did his Kevin remember they were childhood friends? Did Strex force him to get rid of the bracelet when she died because of its impact on his productivity? That was… a depressing thought. He didn’t want to consider that.

“I only heard you mention her on the radio, but I’d love to meet her someday.” He decided to leave out the rest of the things he heard. “Uh, but I should probably figure this out first. Any other ideas?”

Kevin hummed in thought as he picked up the mug again.

“I don’t know, but… I mean, I must be here for a reason, right? That has to be why the angel—”

The sirens rang out again, startling Kevin into dropping his mug on the table. He grimaced at the sight of the broken ceramic and hot coffee. And then, for some unearthly reason, he started picking the shards out of the puddle of hot liquid. It wasn’t like Cecil could judge, he’d done much dumber things, but it wasn’t like the spilled coffee had gone cold. That had to burn at least a little!

“Wh— Kevin, what are you doing? ”

Just then, the waitress who had served them came up wearing a similarly concerned expression. She extended a tree branch to the struggling Kevin.

“Hang on, I’ve almost got it all—Ow!” Kevin flinched away from the ceramic as blood started to drip from his finger.

The waitress said something about getting him bandages, but Cecil didn’t hear her. Instead, he watched as Kevin muttered his thanks and tilted his head up so he didn’t have to look at the cut.

“Are you… afraid of blood?”

The thought was bizarre to him. He knew that Kevin had been drastically changed, but Cecil couldn’t imagine a version of him that didn’t adore blood. He shuddered at the memory of that horrid studio, covered in viscera and soaked in blood.

“No, I mean…” He laughed. “I used to be, as a kid. It doesn’t scare me as much now, but I still don’t like looking at injuries.”

“Huh.” Cecil said, before realizing he should probably justify why he asked. “It’s just… I used to be afraid of blood as a kid too. Gore still freaks me out.”

“Huh!” Kevin repeated. “We’re really similar, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

They really were. Cecil knew they were doubles, of course, but he never saw himself in the Kevin he knew. Strex’s Kevin was violent and callous, delighted in gore, had a terrifying work ethic he’d kill to enforce, and never showed any emotions besides delirious joy and cheery passive aggression. There were very few things Cecil liked about Kevin, and even less that he related to. 

But this Kevin was kind, he had a passion for radio, an eccentric taste in fashion, and a serious fear of blood when he was little. This Kevin was one he could easily see as his counterpart, his friend . Someone so much like him who still differed in the little ways, like his taste in disgustingly sweet coffee. Even hearing that past broadcast, knowing how much was changed… it hit Cecil so much harder seeing his double across from him, thanking the waitress for bringing him a bandage and offering to wipe up the coffee for her. Seeing him try to avoid looking too hard at his injury as he patched himself up.

Strex hadn’t just taken Kevin’s radio station away from him when they bought it out. They took Kevin away from him.

“Sorry, where were we?”

The voice snapped Cecil out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see his double laying down napkins to soak up the coffee.

“Uhhh…” He responded intelligently. 

“Brainstorming ideas?”

“Right, right, hm…” Cecil scrunched his nose up in thought, fingers tapping at the table. He really wished Carlos was here right now.

…Wait, that’s it!

“I’ve got it!” He exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly judging from the looks the other patrons gave him. Cecil shot one, Chelsea Dubinski, an apologetic smile. She rolled her eyes fondly and went back to her drink as he turned back towards Kevin. “I need to call my husband.”

“You have a husband?! ” Kevin responded with equal volume, which resulted in far less sympathetic looks from the Night Vale citizens.

Despite the situation, Cecil couldn’t help but smile as he thought of Carlos. “He’s really smart. And handsome, too. Super handsome. Like, he has the best hair and perfect teeth, and—” Right, he had a plan to explain. “Anyways, he’s a scientist, so he’s studied time weirdness in Night Vale. If anyone would know how to get me back to my future, it’s him.”

“A scientist?” Kevin looked skeptical.

“A really hot one.” A pause. “...Actually, you two are friends in the future.”

This made Kevin perk up a bit. “Really? Well, I guess if my future self trusts a scientist, that means it’s like… character development?”

Cecil opted to not mention any of the circumstances that preceded or followed that particular friendship. He wouldn’t have to unpack that whole Otherworld thing… hopefully never, actually. Let’s just ignore that time period in general.

“Right, so… The problem is, Carlos—my husband, by the way—doesn’t live here yet, so we’ll have to call future Carlos. Or, I guess, present Carlos? My Carlos.”

Kevin pushed the wet napkins aside so he could lean on the table. “So… We need to contact the future? Maybe if we find the right radio frequency, we can send a signal out to him.”

A signal to the future… He remembers the Kevin of the distant future, frail and lost and alone. His ultimate fate in that desolate future. I’m a smile and a twitch of the wrist . Cecil looks down, suddenly feeling horrible looking at this past Kevin still so full of hope.

“I think I know what we need to do.”

His double looks over to him with excitement, evidently oblivious to Cecil’s conflict. “Great! How do we do that?”

Well, they’d just need his radio equipment. The only problem is, it’s not his yet. Leonard would still be working there, and he hated when Cecil would mess with the equipment while he was working. So, there was only one option if they were going to make this work.

“Kevin.” Cecil looks back up to meet his gaze. “Will you break into the station with me?”

Chapter Text

As the two stood outside the station’s bloodstone doors, Kevin fiddled nervously with his bracelet. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if he sees me?”

Cecil considered this for a moment. Kevin would almost definitely get in trouble if he was caught, probably even arrested. Though the rivalry with Desert Bluffs wasn’t as intense back in the day, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still an interloper. But it was only a problem if Kevin was noticed .

So, he took off his furry pink coat and handed it to his double, who stared at it in utter bewilderment.

“If you wear my clothes, he’ll probably just think you’re me.” Cecil explained. “Just don’t give him any reason to look too closely, and you should be fine.”

Kevin offered a nervous smile as he put the coat on. He still didn’t look convinced, but Cecil much preferred that over the usual smiles of his future self. The coat fit perfectly, of course, and Kevin gave a weak thumbs up. Cecil snorted and turned back towards the door, pulling out his standard issue intern switchblade. 

After a healthy amount of blood had been smeared on the bloodstone door (a standard safety protocol), it unlocked into the main hallway. The two walked forward as Cecil bandaged his finger. 

“You know, we could’ve just used my cut from earlier.” Kevin glanced around the studio for any sign of the radio host.

“No, it needs to be the blood of someone who works here, otherwise it trips the alarm. We can fool Leonard, but Station Management would not be happy to see you.” 

He shuddered. “I can imagine. But actually, we look really similar, don’t we? Maybe my blood is close enough to yours that it would work?”

Huh. Cecil never considered the fact they might share such visceral similarities. If the question was posed by the Kevin he knew, he would’ve recoiled at the thought. But somehow, he wasn’t disgusted by the idea right now. Something about the way Kevin asked it with such genuine curiosity made the concept feel less repugnant.

“I’m… not sure, actually. Maybe we can ask Carlos? He’s probably tested something like that with you.” 

As the two enter the studio booth, Kevin asks an unfortunate question. “Right, you mentioned us being friends. How did I meet Carlos?”

Cecil stopped in the doorway. He could explain the broad strokes, that they got lost in an alternate dimension together, but that would bring up problems of how and why they got there. He couldn’t really explain that without bringing up Strex. Of course he’d have to bring it up eventually , especially if Carlos and Kevin were going to interact. But, you know… It’s probably fine. He could wait. 

So instead he laughed in a totally natural way and leaned up casually against the door to the producer’s booth.

…And immediately tumbled backwards as the door opened behind him, letting out a rather undignified yelp.

“Cecil! Are you okay?” Kevin rushed over with concern.

Well, it was a distraction. Nailed it. “I’m fine, just—”

“Cecil? Is that you?”

Both interns froze.

“ I thought you said he was out for lunch! ” Kevin said in a panicked whisper.

“ He should be! He must’ve forgotten something, just —” Cecil’s eyes darted around for a place to hide Kevin as footsteps approached. There was no time for them to switch places. Cecil quickly scooted behind the door frame. “ Pretend to be me! Act casual! ”

“ What? I can’t —”

Their hushed conversation was interrupted as Leonard walked through the door. Kevin stared at him like a realtor in headlights.

“Cecil, I told you to be careful with the radio equipment.” He gestured towards the booth. “This stuff ain’t cheap, you know.”

Kevin laughed nervously. “Sorry, um, sir. I thought you were on your lunch break, so I wanted to look around, because… you know, aspiring radio host!”

Leonard stared at him for a moment as he spoke, and Cecil was acutely aware of the smallest differences between the two at the moment. For example, their voices.

But the radio host just gave a noncommittal hum and ruffled his hair. “Yeah yeah, I’m sure you’ll do great, kid. Just stay out of the booth for now, okay?”

“Yes, sir! Sorry.” As Leonard left, Kevin let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, I think he’s gone. We should probably look somewhere else.” 

Cecil stood up from his hiding spot, peering out into the hallway. The sound of a stone door sliding open meant Leonard had probably left for lunch now, so he made his way out of the producer’s booth. They had to find functional radio equipment, but Leonard would definitely know if they messed with any of his settings. There was one place they could look, though…

“Follow me.”

The storage area of the radio station was a winding labyrinth of hallways. The two made their way through towering bookcases of old cassettes and CDs, stepping over broken records on the dingy carpet floor. Inside this maze were old disused recording booths, which nevertheless recorded phantom shows every day. Cecil spent much of his time as an intern getting lost in those halls. He loved to discover the dusty old studios full of outdated equipment, to lose himself in the throes of community radio. 

The hallways tended to change when you weren’t looking, but Cecil knew the patterns by heart. The only issue was finding a booth with the right equipment, let alone one that was intact. They finally found one, though, and as Cecil set his bag down on the booth’s chair, Kevin looked around the dusty room enraptured.

“Wow… This place is incredible! Is that a vacuum tube radio? ” He gasped, looking around the different shelves. His eyes lit up as he saw a specific device on one of the desks. “A spark-gap transmitter! I haven’t seen one of these in ages! ”

Cecil couldn’t help but chuckle at his double’s enthusiasm. He remembered Kevin often bemoaning the outdated technology of the station, often pushing to replace Cecil’s equipment with more up-to-date Strexcorp models. Cecil resisted until the day the station was fully taken over, both out of spite and because he didn’t understand all the digital synthesized nonsense (and frankly, refused to learn).

But right now, he seemed so passionate about the old tech. It was the giddiest he’d seen this Kevin, but it wasn’t the kind of giddiness Strex Kevin had. He looked at the transmitter in sheer wonder, bouncing slightly on his toes as he looked over the telegraph key and the coherer. The smile on his face actually reached his eyes and, as Cecil just now noticed, showed off a gap in his front teeth. 

“You know, I have one of those from the man who invented it.” Cecil grinned as Kevin spun to look at him with wide eyes. “I met him on a trip to Europe. He taught me many, many things.”

“Lucky! You have to show me sometime.” Kevin paused, deflating a bit. “Or, well… I guess you’re trying to leave. But we’ll know each other in the future, right? Maybe you can show me then?”

The room went silent. Cecil looked down at the floor, smile wiped clean. What could he even say? That he could never show this version of Kevin that transmitter, because this version would die horribly, and his murderers would puppet around the corpse? That in the future Cecil hated him? That in the distant future, someday, Kevin would die in a desolate abyss, forgetting even the sound of his own voice?

“I mean, you… you don’t have to, it’s okay.”

Cecil looked back up at his double. It wasn’t fair to give him more false hope. 

“...Sure. I’ll show you one day, I promise.”

Kevin gave him a small smile, one that broke Cecil’s heart. He couldn’t keep lying to him like this. He had to say something , to at least try . But the words just wouldn’t come out. Luckily, Kevin spoke first, sitting down next to Cecil and peering over at his project.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Cecil looks at his phone, then at the booth. “I already know his number, so I just need to figure out the right frequency. If I hook this up to the DAW, I might be able to adjust the frequency on my phone?”

“Hm…” Kevin turns on the computer, checking the oscillator. “This should be able to use FM! If we need AM though, we might need to do some frequency translations.”

Right, phones can’t handle lower bandwidths. He got the transmission on talk radio, though, so he was going to need that range. There had to be a translator station somewhere in this maze, but who knows if it would be close enough to the booth. He tapped his finger on the desk, leaning back.

“SDR? Do we even have good enough SDRs to do that in this time period?”

His double tilted his head a few times, before nodding. “I could probably jerry-rig something up. Here, you focus on finding the right frequency on the DAW, I’ll worry about the receiver.”

The two fell into a rhythm for a while, though it was mostly messing around with equipment until something worked. Still, as they fiddled with their controls and exchanged banter, Cecil was struck with just how… easy it was. It felt so natural to work with Kevin as a team, something he never in his life thought would be true. Was this what having a double should feel like? Was this what was taken away from them?

Then, as Kevin nearly fell over laughing at a dumb joke Cecil made about dongles, he was hit by something far harder.

He wanted so badly to keep this. He wanted to do whatever it took to preserve this feeling, to keep this Kevin safe. He couldn’t lose this friend he never got to have, not again. He had to warn Kevin about Strex before they became a problem, to help him instead of just giving false promises.

But as he opened his mouth, the phone started to ring.

“...Cecil?” The ringing stopped with the voice of a perfect, handsome scientist.

“Carlos!” Cecil broke out into a grin at the sound of his husband. “Lights in the sky, I missed you so much, you have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice.”

“I’m always happy to hear your voice, my honey-voiced honey. But… how are you calling me?”

“Like, under the hood, or?”

“No, I mean…” Carlos paused. “How are you calling me when you’re asleep right next to me?”

Chapter Text

“Bunny…” Cecil tried very hard to keep his voice even. “I’m stuck in the past. What do you mean I’m sleeping right next to you?”

“In the past? But—” 

There was the sound of rustling on the other end. Subtle at first, and then frantic.

Carlos’ voice was panicked. “Cecil. Cecil, I can’t wake you up, I think you’re in some kind of coma? I don’t—”

“Hey hey, honeybee, it’s okay, I’m right here.” Cecil paused. Maybe not the best phrasing. “Well, I’m here on the phone, okay?”

He couldn't see Carlos, but he could guess what he was doing. The thing about love was at a certain point, your routines became common knowledge. A shared pool of all the little quirks that became a part of your new lives.

Carlos probably leaned against the headboard of the bed, running his fingers through his beautiful curls. He probably tried to avoid looking at the body of his beloved right next to him, to try and focus on the voice coming from his phone. When there were unknowns, Carlos always focused on the things he could figure out.

“I… okay. You said you're in the past? Do you know what happened?”

Cecil shook his head.

He heard a quiet, beautiful laugh on the other side. “Sweetheart, I can't see you.”

He smiled despite himself. This too had become part of their lives. Carlos often teased him that despite being the host of a radio show, Cecil often made gestures over the phone that didn't work with just audio.

“No, I just… woke up here. I don't know what's going on. I'm in my old body, if that's anything?”

Carlos was likely glancing back at the Cecil beside him now, scrunching his nose as he mentally went through the theories. He was always so cute when he did that.

Speaking of thinking, Cecil glanced back at Kevin and saw his double’s eyes go from squinted with concern to wide with realization.

“Of course your body is in a coma! I mean your brain is here, right? That must mean your future body is stuck without a pilot!”

Huh. That actually made a lot of sense. That must mean it was only his mind that traveled to the past. But before he could ask Carlos what that meant for him, his husband let out a choked whisper.

“ Kevin? ”

…Shit, maybe he should've started with the fact that Kevin was here too. Cecil was never one for forethought, though, and in the euphoria of talking to his husband again he forgot about the… Well, the Kevin in the room.

Unfortunately, he'd also forgotten to explain to Kevin what the issue was, so his double continued talking. 

“Hi! Carlos, was it? That's a nice name. But, uh, I'm here helping Cecil. He said we're friends in the future, so hello from the past!”

There was a prolonged silence. 

“...Cecil,” Carlos began carefully, “where exactly are you in the past right now?”

Right, of course. Carlos could probably tell Kevin sounded much less… Strex. He was chipper, sure, but it was the nervous sort of enthusiasm someone had when they wanted to make a good impression on someone. Which was very different from the happiness his future self would exhibit.

“...We're both interns right now, Carlos.”

He could hear Carlos swear under his breath. 

Carlos had never talked to this version of Kevin before, but Cecil saw the way he looked after that broadcast. He didn't want to talk about it, of course, and Cecil wasn't really up to it either. So, they just held each other silently that night, their actions reassuring each other that they did their best. That they didn't have to linger on what could have been. That they had each other.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Kevin's nails tapping on the oak desk.

“...There's something you're not telling me.” His voice was calm, but deliberate. It wasn't a question. Then, it softened slightly. “Carlos, are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I'm fine, it's not you—”

“It is me, though.” Kevin sighed quietly. “I don't know why I upset you, but I know you are upset. I just want to understand, I… We're friends, right? You can tell me the truth. I know you probably don't want to hurt me, but I don't want you to avoid things to protect my feelings, please.”

The words cause Carlos to start crying. Words from the man he abandoned in that desert wasteland, never even having the guts to tell him he was leaving. And there that man was, telling him he never wanted that. Telling him that only caused more pain.

Cecil and Kevin exchanged a concerned look. Kevin gestured silently for the phone, and Cecil gave it to him without question. As soon as he did that, he realized what an absurd action it would be in any other situation. He normally didn't trust Kevin as far as Steve could throw him, and he tossed him pretty damn far.

But… he trusted this one. He trusted the one he should've had the chance to meet years ago, the one who he felt so at home with. The double he never got to have. 

That double held his phone now, speaking to Carlos in a calming tone. “I don't understand, but I want to. Please, tell me what's going on.”

Carlos’ voice came out in a desperate whisper, as if terrified to speak vulnerable words too loud.

“I… I don’t deserve to be your friend, Kevin. I left you behind, I didn’t want to, I just…” He took a shaky breath. “I was scared . I was scared to tell you—I was scared for you.”

“Why?” Kevin spoke softly, far gentler than anything his future self was capable of.

“You wouldn’t be safe in Night Vale, I couldn’t… I didn’t want anyone to hurt you, to… to get revenge for things that weren’t your choice. But in the process, I hurt you and I don’t deserve… I’m sorry.”

Kevin opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He didn’t have context for most of what Carlos just said, but he clearly knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“It’s okay. You did what you thought was best, right? Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, but…” He paused, trying to find the right words to make Carlos understand. “...That’s what science is, right? Sometimes experiments don’t give you the results you expected. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. It still gives you the, uh… what’s the word? Science information?”

Carlos chuckled weakly, sniffling. “Data.”

“Yeah, that! So, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure my future self would understand, and… and if you want, you could totally still call me a friend.”

The phone was quiet, except for the quiet muttering of numbers. The Fibonacci sequence. Cecil still didn’t actually know what a Fibonacci was , despite Carlos’ best efforts, but he knew the numbers of it by heart now. 

“...Thank you, Kevin. I… I think I’m okay to keep going.” 

Kevin nodded, a mirrored gesture that made Cecil snort as he was handed the phone. “He just nodded.”

Carlos laughed slightly. “I figured. You really are similar, aren’t you?”

Cecil instinctively opened his mouth to protest, but… somehow, the notion didn’t really upset him.

“Yeah, guess so. You sure you’re alright, bunny?”

“I think I need some hypotheses to focus on right now, honestly.” There was the sound of (very illegal) paper flipping. “So, what were you saying again? You just woke up there?”

“Mhm! It was a really weird morning. I bumped into Kevin on my way to the station, and we decided to call you!” He wrapped a loose cord around his finger as he spoke. “We’re in the storage tunnels right now, you know, the winding maze of old radio stuff? It took a while to find your frequency, but I mean, obviously we figured it out! Since I’m talking to you and all.”

“Wow, that’s incredible! You managed to call the future using radio frequencies? You’ll have to show me how that works when you get back, I’d love to study that.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course!”

Carlos wrote something down. “Well… The good news is, it sounds like this is just a case of temporal astral projection. So, we just need to find a way to get your consciousness back to the present—or, the future for you, the present for me. Correct language is very important in science. The bad news is… it might take me some time to figure out how to do that.”

Despite the good news, Cecil couldn’t help but sigh. He couldn’t bear to spend more time away from his husband.

“I know, honey. But I’ll talk to my team, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

Before Cecil could respond, a loud growl sounded out from the hall. Kevin turned to stare at the door with wide eyes.

Carlos probably sat up straight at the noise. “Cecil? What’s going on?”

“I think Station Management figured out we’re back here.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? We have to get out before they find us.”

“ Please be careful, both of you. I love you, call when you can.”

“I love you too, hon. Don’t overwork yourself figuring this out.”

With that, Cecil yanked the cords out from everything he could, ensuring the whole booth was shut down. Loud thuds sounded out from the hallway outside. The two quickly ducked under the desk as a dark figure passed by the studio window, with whipping tendrils and a clicking hiss as it slunk through the maze of hallways.

Kevin buried his head into his knees when the dull groaning made the old walls shake around them. He gripped the faded carpet with scarred hands, and his body shook from staggered breaths. 

Was he scared of Station Management? Surely Desert Bluffs had a Station Management of their own, and the guttural groans were fairly commonplace with community radio managers. No, that didn't make any sense. 

As Kevin shakily tried to scoot away from the wall, Cecil reached a hand out. He hesitated for a moment before putting it on Kevin's. His double flinched slightly, but let go of the carpet to clutch Cecil's hand like a lifeline. 

The groans faded slowly, and Kevin's breathing evened out along with it. He sighed in relief.

“...Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Cecil considered asking what that was, but he decided that could wait. “We should really get out of here.”

After a very daring escape (which mostly involved running around frantically until they scrambled out the exit), the two sat on the sidewalk catching their breath.

“Well, that was thrilling! And kind of exhausting.” Kevin looked up at the sky. “It's getting dark already? I really don't want to drive down Route 800 at night, not with that scorpion vortex that spontaneously appeared last week.”

“You could stay with me.”

Wait, did Cecil just say that? It was such a natural response, one that would've sounded completely insane to him yesterday. Well, yesterday years from now, but that's not the point.

“Really?” Kevin stared at him with lit up eyes, and Cecil quickly realized he'd already sealed his fate. Too late to back out now.

He was having a sleepover with Kevin of Desert Bluffs.

Whoops.

Chapter Text

The two interns stood in the tiny kitchen of Cecil’s apartment. It was a place clearly designed for one person, but Kevin had insisted on helping with dinner. He was a surprise guest, after all! The problem was, Kevin was clearly uncomfortable messing with someone else’s things. An admirable trait, considering how intrusive his future self could be. But it ended up being kind of awkward in practice, as Kevin hovered anxiously around Cecil, unsure what he was allowed to touch.

“Kevin, you don’t need to crowd around me.” Cecil waved his hand to shoo him away. “Go check what I have in the pantry. I have no idea if anything here is edible.”

As Kevin hurried away to the pantry, Cecil took a look inside his fridge. Leftovers he forgot to throw away, two apples, a single pack of shredded cheese… Wow, this was abysmal. He forgot how awful his eating habits got after moving to his own place. Abby often had to feed him, even before their mom disappeared. So once Cecil moved out, he often forgot he was a real person who had to eat. That and his measly budget meant lots of skipped meals and last minute takeout.

He turned his head to Kevin. “Any luck over there?”

“Hm…” Kevin tapped his foot, scanning the shelves. “It's mostly just snacks… Oh! This pasta is probably still good!”

Cecil perked up at the sound of that. “I forgot that wheat is still legal! Hand that over, I need to take advantage of this.”

Kevin handed over the box of pasta and sure enough, it was real bona-fide wheat. He'd honestly forgotten what it tasted like, so the prospect of having slightly expired spaghetti was more exciting than it should've been.

“Wheat is illegal in the future?” Kevin tilted his head.

“In Night Vale, anyways.” He reached up to grab a pot from the cupboard. “There was a whole debacle where everything made of wheat turned into snakes, so…”

“Huh, wonder why.”

Cecil handed him the pot to fill with water. The kitchen was small enough without them trying to maneuver around each other.

“No idea. Carlos still wants to research it, but the secret police are really strict about it. Oh, thanks.” He took the pot from Kevin and put it on the stove, turning the heat on. “Anyways, Carlos thinks it's dumb because it only happened once, and they don't even know what caused it—but you know, things happen sometimes.”

Kevin nodded. “One time chewing just stopped working for a month down in the Bluffs! Swallowing worked, you could move the jaw just fine, but chewing did nothing. Everyone got really sick of drinking smoothies for every meal.”

“I don't think I could ever get tired of smoothies.”

“See, that's what I thought!” He gestured emphatically. “But then you have to factor in protein , and protein shakes are disgusting! And don't even get me started on iron! Do you know how much spinach you need to blend for that?”

Cecil laughed. He hadn't really considered needing to blend everything . Some foods were never intended to be in liquid form.

“I'm serious!” Despite his insistence, Kevin laughed too. He peered over at the simmering pot. “How long do you like waiting to put the noodles in?”

Cecil shrugged. He wasn't sure how long you're supposed to wait for these things, considering the whole wheat situation. Kevin took a step forward to inspect the pot—

And stuck his finger into the water with no hesitation.

“That's probably hot enough?” He removed his finger at a leisurely pace, like this was a totally normal thing to do when cooking.

“Kevin.”

“Huh?”

Cecil waved his hand between Kevin and the water. “What the fuck .”

Kevin blinked in confusion before laughing, suddenly realizing what Cecil was concerned about. 

“Oh, I'm fine!” He raised his scarred hands to show Cecil. “Most of the surface nerves got burned away, so I can't really feel any pain unless it's deep enough to bleed. Kind of annoying to avoid paper cuts, but it's useful for cooking!”

Literally none of that made it any less concerning. Apparently the lack of self preservation around heat wasn't entirely a Strex thing.

Looking at the scars more closely, though, Cecil noticed something. They were too faded to be from the usual internship hazards. What else could they be from, though? Did Desert Bluffs have some weird heatwave he didn't know about? No, that wouldn't explain the lack of burns everywhere else.

“How did you get those, anyways?”

The question came out before he could stop himself. Cecil was a journalist, after all, and all journalists had to be a little nosy. He only realized it might have been… a tiny bit intrusive when Kevin shrunk back slightly with a nervous chuckle.

“Well, uh…” He gestured vaguely. “My dad used to make caramel when I was a kid.”

Oh. Oh . As vague as it was, that sentence carried all the implications Cecil needed to understand completely. Suddenly feeling very awkward, he took off his armwarmers to show Kevin the myriad of scrapes and cuts on his forearms.

“My mom used to take us hiking in the woods. Well, it was more like she tried to leave us in the woods, but… you know.”

“Huh.” Kevin opened up the box of pasta. “...Did you know your dad?”

“Honestly, I have no idea if I even have one.” He pulled his armwarmers back on as Kevin poured the spaghetti into the pot. “You know your mom?”

“I know I have one, but I don't remember anything about her.”

“Huh.”

It felt weird to know this about Kevin. He wasn't sure if the Kevin he knew even remembered this much about his childhood. To know more about his life than even he did felt intrusive, despite the fact he was just told this by Kevin.

There was a long silence for a while. Kevin clearly wanted to ask something, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. To ruin this moment of calm. Cecil knew exactly what he wanted to say, and was grateful he didn't.

He didn't want to discuss the future, not yet. He wanted to live in this kinder past for just a bit longer.

Chapter Text

The pasta was good. Like, really good. Cecil might have to look up that information on wheat speakeasies when he gets back. You know… just to have it. 

Actually, wait, it wasn't illegal to think about that yet. In that case, Cecil really wanted to go to a wheat speakeasy now.

As the two finished eating, Kevin perked up with a realization. “Shit, I didn't bring any extra clothes.”

Cecil looked over at him. He'd since taken off the fur coat, not wanting to spill anything on it while cooking, but it had fit him perfectly. 

“I mean, you can always just borrow mine.”

“Really?” Kevin stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh, thank you so much! You've already done so much for me today, thank you, if there's anything I can do to repay you…”

Cecil didn't really think it was a big deal, but Kevin looked insistent. “I mean, I guess you can put the dishes in the sink? It's… nice just having you here, though.”

It still felt a bit weird to say that to Kevin, but it was true. Despite all the stress of this sudden situation he'd somehow crash landed into, he was happy to have the chance to talk to Kevin. His double gave him a warm smile as he gathered up the two bowls, and it felt right in some strange way. Like this was what Kevin was supposed to be. 

Left alone in the living room for a moment, Cecil took this time to look closer at his old apartment. He had a huge lava lamp phase at one point, so most of the lights in the room were some variation of those wonderful blobs of color. The walls were littered with posters, from ones for Lee Marvin's movies to government propaganda posters everyone was mandated to own. Shelves on the walls held small collections he'd started and then forgot about. 

It was cramped, and he much preferred the one he shared with Carlos. Not because the decor was much different, but because of all the little additions that made it theirs . The government posters had been lovingly vandalized with scientifically accurate corrections. The kitchen counters were forever stained by the garish greens of failed experiments. The shelves now held Carlos’ own collections of “science” items—test tubes, trading cards of his favorite scientists, and cool rocks deemed scientifically interesting. Without that ingredient, the end result felt empty, in ways he had never considered when that ingredient wasn't yet introduced. 

Cecil didn't notice Kevin come back until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Kevin sitting beside him, gaze shifting between him and the floor. Finally, he said the words. 

“I know there's something you're not telling me.” He sighed. “I don't want to intrude, but if it's about me… please, I want to know.”

Cecil bit his lip and looked away. He knew it was coming, but it didn't make the truth any less painful to say. He considered lying. Making up some grand story of how Kevin was doing great in the future and nothing went wrong. But that wouldn't be fair. Kevin had a right to know.

“Have… you heard the name Strexcorp?”

He could see Kevin tilt his head from the corner of his eye. “Strexcorp?”

The truth was so cruel. This was Cecil's last chance to spare Kevin the details, but… a lie would be far more cruel. He fiddled with his skirt.

“It's… a business.” He laughed bitterly. “Well, I guess that's an understatement. More like a corporate cult . They move into Desert Bluffs at some point when you're a radio host, not sure when. They pose as a family business, but slowly they buy out everything in town—local businesses, schools, the government… your radio station. And then…”

Cecil took a shaky breath in, forcing himself to look at Kevin as he spoke. “...you. They buy out you .”

Kevin swallowed back his fear as he heard those words. “What do you mean? What… what do they do to me?”

This was the part Cecil had been dreading. It was one thing to tell Kevin about what Strex did to his town. It would be painful to hear, sure. Cecil would be terrified to hear about those things happening to his town. But to tell someone about the horrific torture they were doomed to go through, a horrible fate no one deserved to face…

Cecil felt a lump form in his throat. How could this be the kindest option? How cruel the world would be to his double, that hearing about his inevitable torture would be a mercy .

“...Cecil? What happens to me?”

There was a trembling resolve in Kevin's voice. It sounded so much like the Kevin he had heard that day. A kind person, filled with determination to fight against a doomed future. A scared person, clinging onto the last thing he had left. He had already lied to that voice before. He couldn't bear to do it again.

“I… I don't know the details. I've been told pieces though, and…” Cecil clutched the fabric of his skirt tight. “...they torture you. They do horrible things to you, they make you do horrible things to others, and… and finally they break you. They turn you into…”

He could see Kevin's hands tremble in his lap. He stared down at those shaky hands, as if wondering what things they would be forced to do. The room went deathly quiet.

“...What is the Kevin you know like?”

“He's a nightmare.” Cecil responded automatically, before wincing at the harshness of his words. They were absolutely true, but maybe not the most tactful. “I mean, he… He's very cheerful. But not a natural kind of cheerful, eerily cheerful. Today is the first day I've actually seen you frown. And he's, uh… How do I put this… really into gore. Absurdly so. He's violent, but not out of anger. Just… for fun. I don't… even know if he can comprehend violence being wrong anymore.”

Kevin's trembles turned to shaking as Cecil spoke. All the curious trepidation in his face had turned into horrified disbelief. 

“I… I've never been a violent person, I don't…”

At a loss for words, Kevin slumped forward and put his head in his shaky hands. His fingers grip at loose curls. Both of them were at a loss for words. Kevin struggled to comprehend the horrors that awaited him, and Cecil struggled to find words that would make them easier to stomach. What silver lining could he possibly find on a storm cloud so dark?

“That's… that's why you look at me like I'm a ghost, isn't it?” Kevin's voice came out in a horrified whisper. “Because I am. They're going to kill me, and—and puppet around my corpse.”

Cecil's chest felt tight. Why did things have to turn out this way? Why was this horrible conversation something he had to have? He forced himself to find some kind of positive, to give his double some kind of comfort.

“They… they didn't take away everything.” He tried his best to keep his voice from shaking. “You still bounce on your toes in excitement, still tilt your head asking questions… You still touch burning things to check their temperature. You still like the same disgustingly sweet coffee.”

Kevin sighed. He lowered his hands to look at Cecil with teary eyes. “Am… am I going to hurt you?”

Cecil couldn't bring himself to respond. 

The silence told Kevin all he needed to know. Cecil watched helplessly as the doomed man brought his knees tight to his chest and started to cry.

It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He wished he never told Kevin, but… it wasn't much better to leave him to his fate, was it? There were no good options in this situation, and Cecil hated it. He thought being there physically would make the inevitable feel less hopeless, but it only hurt more.

Cecil did the only thing he had left, as small as it was. He reached out a hand.

Kevin immediately flung himself at his double. He clung to Cecil like if he let go, he would lose himself too. And in a way, that was true. Cecil could feel his shirt getting wet from the shaky sobs against his shoulder, but he didn't care.

Instead, he held onto Kevin. The man he would come to hate. The man who tried to kill him, to kill his cat, to take his town away. But he wasn't that man. He was just a normal person, one so similar to Cecil, and he was terrified .

“Please, Cecil, I—I don't want to die, I… I don't want to die, please …”

The desperation of the tearful words made Cecil's chest feel like it was about to tear open. And in that moment, one thing became clear.

“I'm not going to let you die.”

The certainty of his words surprised even himself. How was he possibly going to do that? Was he just making another promise he couldn't keep?”

“...Really?”

He could hear the way Kevin's voice hitched in his throat. No. No, Cecil couldn't break this promise.

“Really.” Cecil held him tighter. “We'll stop them. I won't see you go through this, not again.”

Kevin sniffled. “You… you deserve to go back home, to Carlos, what if… what if this changes things for you?”

“We'll find a way. It shouldn't have to be one or the other. And damn it , if the universe says it will, we'll spite the universe! I've spit in the face of fate before, and I'll do it again.” 

He felt Kevin nod into his shoulder. They were both shaking now, but Cecil wasn't afraid anymore. He shook with furious determination. When Cecil was set on something, it didn't matter what stood in the way. There was no force, natural or otherworldly, that could stop the sheer stubborn persistence of a radio host.

“...Okay. Okay.” Kevin paused, suddenly calm enough to realize their position. He withdrew awkwardly, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.”

The two sat in silence for a moment as Kevin composed himself. Then, he asked another question, slightly more hopeful this time.

“How did I meet Carlos?”

Carlos’ time away was still a painful memory for both of them, and something the two rarely talked about. But that wasn't something to unload on Kevin, especially not right now. 

“After, uh… after they got kicked out of Night Vale, you got tossed through a portal to another dimension for—” Cecil gestured vaguely. “—pretty justified reasons. Carlos got stuck there while trying to research something, so you two became friends. I really didn't get it at the time, but… I think I do now.”

Kevin tilted his head slightly, and Cecil continued. “I mean, I didn't really know much about… you . I just knew him . So when Carlos talked about how he was actually a really nice person deep down, I honestly thought Carlos had lost it a little. But… Now I think I understand. It was the parts of you they couldn't take away from him. Carlos saw that, even when I couldn't.”

“I'll have to thank him for that.” Kevin said softly with a small smile. “For being there through… whatever I become. And thank you , Cecil. For being here right now.”

“Of course, I—Wait.”

“Huh?”

He turned his body to face Kevin. “What if this is why Erika brought you here? Not just so you could help me, but so I can help you? ”

They both considered this for a moment. 

“...That makes sense. I guess what they say about ‘mysterious ways’ is true.” A pause. “I mean, hypothetically , if angels were real, it would be true.”

Cecil laughed, remembering all the times Erika had gone around asking for money, or all the times he'd caught them stealing fruit from his garden.

“Mysterious is one way to put it.”

“Cryptic?” Kevin offered.

He snorted. “That's probably more accurate.”

Kevin grinned, and for the first time, Cecil was thrilled to see him smile.

Chapter Text

The two sat in silence on the couch for a minute. Cecil wondered if he was sitting too close, if Kevin would want to be alone. The Kevin he knew was the annoyingly clingy sort, the kind of person to latch onto you to get your attention. He was never sure if it meant to be threatening or friendly, but knowing Kevin, it was likely both.

But this was a different Kevin, one who didn't have that overly familiar tone that got on Cecil's nerves in the best of circumstances. Instead, he felt naturally familiar. Like they were always meant to be close, and were only enemies through a twist of cruel fate.

“Oh!” Cecil turned to see Kevin staring at him. “I absolutely soaked your shirt, I'm sorry!”

He glanced down at his still damp shoulder. “Eh, whatever. We should probably change into pajamas anyways.”

“We?”

“Uh, yeah? You're already borrowing my clothes tomorrow, just grab something from my closet.”

Kevin looked at him in awe for a moment, like the offer was some monumental gift.

“Okay, sure!” A pause. “...Which way is your bedroom?”

Cecil blinked. The apartment was tiny, and there's only one hallway the bedroom could be down. Kevin could probably figure it out on his own?

He realized a second too late that Kevin was asking because he felt weird going into his bedroom alone. 

“...Oh!” Cecil stood up. “Here, it's this way.”

Kevin followed him down the hall. As Cecil opened the door to his room, he instantly remembered how messy it was. It never felt messy to him, because everything had a place , but none of his guests ever understood that.

For his part, Kevin didn't mention it, instead lingering in the doorway. The Kevin of the future would probably be appalled at the mess. After Strex took over the studio, he often gave Cecil “helpful tips” on organizing files that ranged from bemused to downright passive aggressive. He wondered if Kevin used to have a similar kind of system around his own home, or if that was one of the ways they'd always differed.

Cecil opened his closet and rummaged around. It was the one place he hadn't gotten around to organizing. The process of folding laundry only for it to be dirty a day later was infuriating, and even now Cecil hated it. Luckily for him, Carlos loved doing laundry. Something about the mathematical angles of the folds was soothing to him. Cecil had no idea what that meant, but it was cute. 

After a minute or two of searching, Cecil tossed Kevin a nightgown. It was a Victorian nightgown with the colorful pattern typical of the era (which was later used as inspiration for bowling alley carpets, of course). Kevin caught it and examined the fabric with wide eyes.

“Ooh, is this vintage?”

Cecil plucked a pair of satin pajamas made from old ties. “Yeah! I'm pretty sure it just manifested in my closet one day, because I don't remember buying it… but that's how all the best vintage is found, right?”

“Absolutely! Sometimes I found random dresses in my closet, and when I'd ask my dad if they're from Mom, and who she is , he'd always respond with this… raspy wailing?” He waved his hand. “And I'm not sure what that, you know, means exactly… but the dresses were cute!”

“I mostly got second hand clothes from my sister, but that sounds fun too!”

Right, Abby. They still wouldn't be on speaking terms right now, would they? He'd deleted her number off his phone in a fit of spite one day after moving out, and never got the nerve to ask around town for it back. He reasoned he was a grown-up now, so he didn't need his dumb sister anymore.

He cursed that younger version of himself now. Hindsight is a bittersweet thing, and even more so when you're suddenly stuck in the “hind” part of the equation with no way to apply the “sight” part. 

“So… could I use the bathroom to change, then?”

Cecil rolled his eyes, though not particularly annoyed. It was much better to have an overly cautious guest than an intrusive one, after all.

“Kevin, you're fine. I'm not going to kill you for going into a room without me.” He shooed Kevin away lightly. “Go change, c'mon.”

Kevin laughed. “Alright, alright. I should check my hair in the mirror anyways, I'm sure all that action in the station made it a wreck .”

“Why would I have a mirror in my bathroom?”

There was a long pause. Kevin blinked several times, attempting to formulate a response.

“It's… a bathroom? Why wouldn't it have a mirror?”

Cecil shuddered at the thought. What a terrifying concept. “Nope, absolutely no way. I don't have a death wish , there's no mirror.”

Kevin stared for a moment longer, before evidently deciding not to question it and walking out. He probably figured it was just a Night Vale thing, and Cecil wasn't about to correct him.

As they sat back onto the couch, Cecil noticed how quiet Kevin was being. It wasn't like there weren't silences before, but something felt off. Maybe it was the conversation prior, maybe it was the way Kevin fiddled with his bracelet, but either way, something made Cecil be the one to break the silence.

“Are you okay? After, you know…” He gestures vaguely.

“I think so? I'm just…” Kevin sighed as he spun the beads. “...processing, I guess?”

Cecil nodded. He couldn't imagine getting told something so horrible. To be told your terrifying fate, a thing you can't even fathom. How could it possibly feel, to know about your inevitable doom?

Well… Cecil might have some idea how.

“You know…” He looked away. These things were easier to talk about if he imagined he was on the air. “When I was a kid, my mom told me I'd die someday, and it would involve a mirror.”

“Oh, that's horrible! So that's why—”

“Why I don't own any mirrors, yeah. They terrify me. I won't even enter a room with one. Every moment I'm near one could be my last one, and…” Cecil took a shaky breath in. “You know, just—I guess I know how it feels, to… to know a horrible future is inevitable.”

He felt a nudge against his hand. Kevin was offering to hold his hand, just like how he offered his own. 

Cecil took it.

“How… How do you manage it? I don't even know where to start…”

He didn't, really. It was a fear that Cecil never got over. How could he, knowing that working through it would just endanger him more? But life went on, regardless of his fears. It always does.

He shrugged. “I… live life, I guess? It gets familiar after a while. I just… try to prevent it where I can, and accept it when I can't. I think that's the only way any of us can manage anything.”

Kevin hummed in thought.

“Let's watch a movie.”

He looked back up at Kevin. He wore a cautious smile, determined with the promise of an easier tomorrow. Cecil wondered if he wore the same smile when he took on Strex, and his chest ached.

He glanced over at the TV stand's unorganized mess of DVDs. Well, not unorganized . They were organized by the amount of scenes with a sandwich in them, in descending order. Of course. 

“Have you ever seen Cat Ballou?”

Chapter Text

When Cecil woke up, the first thing he registered was that he was still on the couch. He didn't remember falling asleep during the movie, but that wasn't unusual. Cecil didn't remember many things. That was just the reality of the fallible human experience. 

He vaguely recalled Carlos calling it “a concerning level of dissociation”, but that's beside the point. 

The second thing he noticed was the sound of running water. Considering he was alone on the couch, it was either Kevin or the Faceless Old Woman flooding his sink with sewage again. And since there was no unmistakable smell of rotting waste… probably Kevin.

Cecil sprawled out on the couch and groaned dramatically. It was still too early to be up right now. The noise of running water stopped, and a familiar face with an amused smile peeked out from the kitchen.

“Good morning to you too!” Kevin's chipper tone made Cecil groan again.

“Of course you were always a morning person.” He flopped to the side. “The world is so unfair.”

Kevin stifled a laugh at the dramatics. “It's 10 AM, Cecil. That's hardly early .”

Cecil rolled his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Anything still in the AM range counted as a morning person, but it wasn't like Cecil was awake enough to debate that. Instead, he opted to pivot.

“What were you doing in the kitchen, anyways?”

“Oh!” Kevin stepped out into the living room. Of course he was already dressed. “I wasn't sure what you like for breakfast, but I wanted to do something to thank you for your hospitality. So I washed the dishes from last night!”

Despite the tragedy of being awake, Cecil still smiled at the gesture. Kevin being in his house was feeling more and more natural and somehow, that didn't feel weird anymore. 

Dragging himself to his feet, Cecil gestured towards the kitchen. 

“I probably have some microwave biscuits in there somewhere?” He yawned. “I guess I should go get dressed now, so…”

Kevin snickered softly and disappeared into the kitchen again to find something edible. At least Cecil wasn't alone in the ordeal of consciousness.

The silence after breakfast was long and uncomfortable. Neither of them wanted to be the one who brought the topic up. Finally, Kevin spoke. 

“So…” He fiddled with a fork. “How do we… do this? Are you sure it's even possible?”

No, he wasn't. The entire thing hinged on Cecil's stubborn determination being enough to brute force a solution. He'd dealt with worse odds before, after all. But odds always felt harder when someone else was on the line.

He tapped his fingers against the kitchen table. “I mean… We're already finding a way to transport my consciousness to the future, right? What if we just took yours and put it in your future body?”

He thought it was a pretty solid idea, but his double didn't seem so sure. Kevin looked away from him, down at the fork in his hand.

“I don't know. I don't… know how I feel about just overwriting another person, even if the person is me?” He bit his lip. “I just—Isn't that the same thing they did? It doesn't feel right.”

Cecil opened his mouth to say it was totally different than what Strex did. It's not like they were going to torture future Kevin—and besides, it would be better for everyone if that monster was gone anyways, right?

But he didn't. Not because it wasn't totally true, because it was , but it wouldn't be helpful to hear.

“I guess you probably wouldn't want that body anyways? It looks way different and, you know, I don't actually know how you see?”

“What do you mean?”

Cecil froze. Right, he never mentioned that part.

“Uh, well…” How could he possibly explain this? “Your eyes are… gone? Your future self isn't blind, at least I don't think so, but I also don't know how that works.”

Kevin stared at him for a moment, eyes wide in horror. 

“Wh… Why are they gone? ”

Cecil gave a noncommittal shrug. “Some ritual reason, probably?”

His double started to look ill. Cecil couldn't blame him, really. Though he didn't know what happened, the implications certainly weren't pretty.

Kevin set down the fork. “Let's just… keep going.”

Cecil nodded sympathetically as Kevin continued.

“Maybe we could… swap our places? So that I'm in the future, and my future self is in the past.”

Would that be a stable time loop? Assuming that future Kevin would go through all the motions, maybe. But Cecil really didn't trust him to not ruin things.

There was really only one way to ensure that the timeline wouldn't mess up, and it wasn't an option that was pretty.

Kevin seemed to realize that too, shoulders growing tense. “...I don't want to kill my future self.”

“You kind of have to, though.” Cecil cringed as the blunt words made Kevin tense further. “I just mean, like… humans are made up of our cumulative experiences, right? Every person is just a collection of experiences, strung together to form the tapestry we call ourselves. So if we change the timeline, that tapestry unravels. The experiences don't exist, and the person dies along with them.”

Kevin bit down harder on his lip. A tiny droplet of red formed under his teeth. Not yet sharpened from experience, but still capable of the same violence.

It wasn't a thought that Cecil was fond of. Sure, everyone was capable of violence under the right circumstances, but that didn't make them violent people . Not like the Kevin he had known. That Kevin reveled in violence, the feeling of skin tearing from flesh. This one hesitated, even when it meant the preservation of his current existence. Capability did not mean desire.

“...It's a last resort,” Cecil finally said.

“...Okay.” 

There was another silence before Cecil spoke again.

“Let's talk to Carlos about it. I'm sure he'd want to help you.” He gave Kevin a smile. “He's your friend, after all.”

Kevin smiled back, before having a realization. Cecil knew what the revelation was, because he had it at the same time.

They were going to have to sneak back into the radio station again.

Kevin spoke up first. “Is this a good idea?”

“Probably not, but it's the only option we have.” A pause. “Unless…”

“...Unless we steal the supplies and take them back here, so we can call any time we want.” Kevin finished his thought. “What about Station Management?”

Cecil recalled the way Kevin had curled up under the old desk as Station Management roamed the hallways, his body shaking. He meant to ask about that, but it was a bit late now. 

He hummed in thought. “Hm… If we sneak in during Leonard's show, they should be preoccupied with the broadcast. They shouldn't notice us if we make it quick.” 

Kevin tilted his head side to side, clearly weighing the options. The prospect of sneaking into storage again after the close call last time was scary, but it was the only way they could reach Carlos.

“...Alright. Let's do it.”

Chapter Text

This time they tried a more subtle approach. Kevin snuck in after Cecil entered, silently sneaking his way into the storage hallways. It wouldn't be long until Leonard would go on air, so Cecil opted to keep up appearances until the show.

The only problem was, he forgot how utterly tedious the less dangerous aspects of the job were. As much as Cecil adored being a radio host, he was much less enthused about the busy work.

“Cecil?”

He looked up from the show notes he compiled to see Leonard in the doorway of the producer's booth.

“Yeah?” Shit. Did he do something suspicious already?

“I can't start without my notes, kid.” His expression softened into amusement as Cecil shot up and scrambled to hand him the papers. Leonard read through the papers and laughed. “You know how much I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you're not in charge just yet. I'm the one behind the mic, I can take it from here.”

Right. It had been so long, Cecil had forgotten how Leonard preferred his show notes. “Of course, Mr. Burton sir!”

Cecil watched as Leonard rolled his eyes fondly at the enthusiasm he's grown accustomed to after… however long it's been, and walked out into the booth.

Leonard Burton was always a stubborn person, as all radio hosts should be. He was a man always fixated on the past, hating the ways the world and people around him changed, and hating the changes in himself most of all. Sometimes he wished he could preserve the past in amber, before remembering that would make it the present. He only cared for the present in hindsight.

Still, he wasn't a cruel man. He humored Cecil’s aspirations for the future, even as someone who held nothing but disdain for those unknown inevitabilities. After all, he had similar aspirations at some point, and past experience made future possibilities less uncertain.

But as a man always dreaming of the past, Leonard often forgot to pay attention to the present. Perhaps a flaw, but the concept of a flaw was largely meaningless. Like the past, people were never as good or bad as the things about them we choose to remember.

In this case, Cecil was just grateful he didn't notice anything was off.

Once the on air sign flicked on, Cecil rose from his seat. He gave a thumbs up to the man in the booth, but Leonard wasn't looking at him anymore. Perfect.

As he made his way to the storage halls, Cecil suddenly realized that Kevin had no way of navigating them. What if he got lost? The maze of hallways was easy to lose someone in, especially with how they seemed to shift each day.

Thankfully, when he opened the door, Cecil saw his double sitting a few feet inside. He sat right next to a tall storage shelf, ear pressed against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

Kevin perked up. “Oh! I'm checking to make sure the broadcast started. You can feel the sound in the walls, if you listen close enough.”

He gestured to the wall in question, and Cecil sat down next to him and leaned up against it. Sure enough, the walls vibrated very subtly against his ear.

“Huh.” He pulled back, remembering something Carlos told him about sound. “Do you know why?”

Kevin was silent for a moment, before shrugging. “I mean, I always assumed the building’s scared of the noise. The house always shook when my father moaned my name from inside the walls, and that noise is pretty scary.”

“Inside them?”

“Yeah, you know…” He gestured vaguely.  “In his scuttling state?”

Cecil did not, in fact, know. Maybe that was just what fathers did? He didn't know enough about having one to dispute that.

“...Right. That's what I thought too, but that's actually not true!”

“What is it, then?” Kevin turned to look at him with curious eyes and a tilted head. 

“Well, I was talking to Carlos about how buildings were easily scared by noise, and he explained they're not! Buildings are much more afraid of running water , being related to domestic horses and all. Thinking that shaking means fear is a kind of…” What was the big word Carlos used again? “...Animorph-ism? Yeah, that.”

Kevin leaned back against the wall. He tapped his fingers on the peeling drywall and felt the vibrations on his cheek.

“What is it, then?”

“Apparently, all sound is made of invisible waves in the air! When there's a lot of waves in the air, it wiggles the stuff around it.” Cecil drew a sound wave in the air with a finger. “Further studies show most buildings enjoy the sensation! Not warehouses, though. Scientists aren't sure why, but they think it's because warehouses are real jerks. Just real pieces of work.”

“Oh, wow! I had no idea, that's so cool!” A pause. “...Speaking of Carlos, we should probably find the equipment as fast as possible. I do not want to hear Station Management's vibrations again.”

Right, the plan. Cecil got a bit distracted by fun facts, but they were on a timer. Probably best to get moving. He stood up, gesturing for Kevin to follow.

“Here, I think I know where to get spare parts.”

As the two were walking, Cecil noticed that Kevin was staring at him, gaze alternating between him and the ratty carpet beneath their feet.

“...What's up?”

Kevin looked up again. “Oh! I mean—I was just wondering… You told me a bit about my future self, but I still don't know much about what he's like?”

“He's awful .” Cecil responded instinctively.

“I mean , besides that.”

What else was there to say, really? Future Kevin was a horrible murderer who Cecil avoided like the plague. It wasn't like he was dying—bad choice of words— eager to get to know the guy.

“He’s…” Cecil struggled to come up with phrasing that wasn't just insults. “... interesting . We met during this huge sandstorm. Everyone was meeting their doubles and we were all overcome with the urge to kill them, so when we saw each other, he came at me and… I strangled him. And you know what he did? He started laughing! He kept laughing and laughing , until the laughs turned to wheezing gasps of amusement, still smiling —”

Looking at Kevin’s grimace, Cecil cut himself off.

“...And then I left. I let go of him, and we both returned to our own studios. Later on his show, he called it a hug .”

Kevin's nose scrunched up at this. He took a few moments to consider this information, face unreadable as they walked past towering shelves of old cassettes.

“…I wonder why he thought it was a hug.”

Cecil shrugged. It was Kevin. He was just like that. It was never really worth digging into the why, not if you valued your fingers.

“Okay, well…” Kevin clearly wasn't sure how to address any of the information given to him. “What about hobbies?”

Despite the awkward air, Cecil couldn't help but snort at the question. Did he even have hobbies? Did murder count as a hobby? To him, probably. 

“...I mean, I guess he likes organizing. Files, desks, bones… Actually, speaking of bones, I know he kept a bunch of teeth jars on his desk. Told me he likes the sound of them or something.”

Kevin paused. “ Are teeth bones?” 

“I mean, I'm sure he'd know. He was, like, way too into teeth. Centipedes too. I kept finding them around the office, and whenever I told him to get them out of my desk , he'd act like I just insulted his children or something.” He sighed dramatically. “Which, I mean, I don't mind a good insect! Insect? Bug? Whatever. Point is , they ate all the cute spiders!”

Cecil expected for Kevin to laugh at the anecdote, but the hall was eerily quiet. He looked over to see Kevin had stopped walking, a troubled expression on his face.

“...Kevin?”

“Sorry, I just…” Kevin rolled a bead with his thumb. “Is this really okay? I mean, you say he's awful, but… does that make it fine to replace someone?”

To kill him. Neither of them spoke those words, but they both knew what lingered in the air.

Cecil looked away. He wanted to say that it was different, that it was okay because the Kevin beside him was a good person. That it was some weird trolley problem, considering how many people his future self had killed. That future Kevin deserved it anyways. 

But answering the question meant addressing it. So, he didn't. 

“Oh! Hey, check this out!”

Cecil grabbed a small cardboard box from the shelf beside them. Inside, was a jumble of DIY radio equipment: A breadboard, assorted capacitors, several spools of wires, and other miscellaneous bits.

“We should be able to work with this, right?”

Kevin stared for a long while, brow furrowed and lips pursed. The words he wanted to say to Cecil were plain to see in his eyes, but he said none of them. Instead, he just sighed and turned back.

“...We should get out of here before the broadcast ends.”

Their walk back would be less tense with time, the two discussing their love for obsolete technology as they maneuvered through the halls. But something different hung in the air this time. Cecil only hoped it wouldn't stay for long.

Chapter Text

The makeshift radio was almost ready. Cecil and Kevin sat across from each other on the floor of the living room, the breadboard and box of parts laid out on the coffee table. While rummaging around inside, Cecil found a familiar piece of technology. 

“Wow, a cat whisker detector?” Kevin leaned over to get a better look. “I haven't used one of those in ages! ”

Cecil pulled it out to inspect. “I haven't even seen one since I was a Boy Scout. I mean, I probably still have one somewhere. I always hid in my closet to mess with those kits.”

“Me too!” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sometimes, I'd steal my parts from the Lowe's.”

Cecil responded to this scandalous information with an incredibly exaggerated gasp. So exaggerated, in fact, that he managed to inhale some spit and doubled over coughing.

"Are you okay?” Kevin managed to get out between his own laughing fit, unsure if he should be amused or concerned.

He nodded vigorously through coughs. After a minute of struggle, Cecil finally composed himself and saw his double with a hand to his mouth, trying to disguise his snickering. 

“You're laughing! I'm dying over here, and you're laughing!” Despite his dramatics, Cecil couldn't help but grin. “You are a cruel and unjust double and I'm going to scream.”

Kevin burst out laughing again. “Stop, you're going to make me start coughing!”

“Good! This is vengeance!”

“C'mon, let's—” Kevin broke down again. They were both laughing now. “Let's finish this radio!”

“Okay, okay—Hang on, I'm getting lightheaded—”

The two took a moment to calm down, laughter turning to giggles, which then turned into scattered snickers, which finally became silence. Cecil cleared his throat.

“Right, uh…” He looked over the board. “What were we doing again?”

Kevin tilted his head slightly. “Let's see… All the capacitors are there, there's the amp, the antenna is attached, inductor looks good… I think all we need now is the battery and your phone.”

As Kevin pulled out a 9V battery from the box of spare parts, Cecil scanned the breadboard one last time for any loose wires. Thankfully, it looked like their rusty skills were still good enough to not explode their setup. He grabbed his phone from his pocket.

“Ready?”

Kevin finished taping up the wires. “Ready!”

With determination and a lot of nervous hope, the final pieces were added. Cecil plugged the USB into his phone, fingers mentally crossed, and dialed Carlos.

The phone rang once, and then twice. Cecil bit his lip. They didn't mess anything up, did they? Maybe the wires were connected wrong, or something came loose, or—

“Hello?”

“Carlos!” Cecil exclaimed, probably a bit too loud.

“Cecil,” Carlos echoed, much more tiredly. “I'm glad to hear from you again. Sorry for picking up late, we've been really busy in the lab.”

“Really?” He asked, not because this was surprising, but because he wanted to hear more. Cecil never quite got what Carlos was talking about when he got into his science rambles, but it was nice to see him excited.

Right now, though, he was just frustrated. “We're still working on a way to get you back. Well, the problem isn't exactly that—We have no idea if your past consciousness is in there, or if you just overwrote it, and both require very different solutions—”

“Babe, relax.” Cecil spoke gently. “We'll figure it out, okay?”

“...Okay. I just—I miss you, you know?”

“I miss you too, bunny.”

Miss was an understatement. Cecil had never been good with separation, and long distance was a nightmare. He thought of Carlos in the Otherworld, of all the long nights nursing a bottle of wine and waiting for the next call.

Maybe Carlos was thinking of it too. But he knew it wasn't a good time to ask.

“Are you alright?” He asked instead. “I don't want you overworking yourself for me.”

“A scientist is always fine.” Carlos said, in a voice that implied the opposite. 

“Carlos.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. But this is really important, I need to figure this out.”

“ You're really important too.”

There was a long pause.

“...How about you, hon? How are you?”

Cecil couldn't help but pout. He knew Carlos wasn't the best at believing compliments, but it still hurt his heart whenever they were deflected. Sometimes he wished there was a way to show Carlos his perspective, for him to see his beautiful smile through eyes that loved him. 

But people were messy. No one looked at the world the same way, and that diversity was part of the joy of living. Like Carlos told him once, no matter how objective a person tries to be, they're still human.

(Unless, of course, they weren't human. Scientists are still working on factoring in this data, and are sorry for assuming.)

“I'm alright.” Cecil said, in a voice that implied it was more complicated than that. “Oh! We made a portable radio to hook my phone up to, so we don't need to deal with Station Management every time.”

“That's great! I missed hearing your voice. You'll have to show me how you did that someti—Wait, we?”

Kevin spoke up. “Hi! I'm still here!” 

“Actually, speaking of that…” Cecil paused, not quite sure where to start. “I, uh, I told him. You know, that .”

He could almost hear Carlos wince on the other end. Neither of them could possibly imagine how it felt to know that, but both knew it couldn't be very nice. 

“But!” Kevin interjected a bit too loudly, as if to reassure Carlos he was alright. “We're going to stop it.”

“How? I mean, that's great, but… Well, Cecil, you know what happened with Frank Chen. Changing timelines is dangerous.” 

Carlos sounded like he wanted to add a “but” to that statement. Like he wanted to believe there was some way to save his friend, despite the data proving it was impossible. Cecil did it for him.

“ But , what if we didn't have to?” Cecil bounced his leg slightly. “I mean, you're already working on getting my consciousness to my body, right? Couldn't you use the same process for Kevin?”

He could hear Carlos hum in thought. “It's possible… But what about current—future for you, current for me—Kevin?”

“I mean, hopefully we'll get rid of him for good!”

The room became deathly quiet. The Kevin across from him curled inwards on himself, eyes fixed on the floor. Carlos was silent on the other end. Cecil, assuming he didn't explain himself well enough, tried to fill the silence.

“I mean, come on, isn't he like… literally a cult leader now? Plus, he's killed a ton of people, so it's basically even. You know, like that whole trolley thing? Where you need to defeat a trolley in hand to hand combat? I don't know, I'm not an engineer, but—”

“Cecil.” Carlos cut him off, voice gentle but firm.

“...My idea is great and flawless?”

Carlos sighed deeply. “I know you don't like Kevin, but he is—was—my friend. He's done a lot of bad things, but… I don't think it's right to just replace him. To… To give up on him.”

The heaviness in his voice made Cecil pause. He looked over at Kevin, the Kevin that he's grown to appreciate, the Kevin he wants to fight for. 

Kevin sat with his knees to his chest, body hunched. He didn't meet Cecil's eyes. Instead, he only tucked his legs further in front of him and looked anywhere else.

“But…” Cecil struggled to find the words. “...You don't want to help?”

“Of course I want to help!” Carlos responded immediately, with a passion even he sounded surprised by. “I've seen the effects of what they did to him, I'd do anything to prevent how much pain he's gone through. But erasing what happened doesn't help someone who already lived through it. I… I failed him. I ruined the first opportunity he had to recover. I can't do that again.”

The heaviness now felt crushing. Cecil wasn't sure what to say, what to think . Kevin was a horrible person! He's awful, he's always covered in blood, his voice was incredibly grating—but Carlos was still right. And Cecil wasn't sure what to do with that.

“...We can talk about it later, okay? We can figure something else out.” 

Cecil knew Carlos was running his hands through his perfect hair as he sighed again. “Okay. Okay, we'll talk about it later. I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.”

Despite their disagreements, that stayed constant. Love was not a hivemind, it didn't stay or go based on how much you agree. It was the decision to understand, to care.

There was the sound of distant talking. 

“Oh, that's Mark. He says Nils wants me to take a look at something.” Carlos leaned away from the phone. “I'll be right there!”

“Tell the crew I said hi. Also, that I'll gut them like a fish if they don't feed you three meals a day.” 

Carlos laughed slightly. “I'm not telling them that last part, but thank you. We can talk later, alright?”

“Alright. I'll talk to you soon, bunny.” Even with the tension in the air, Cecil smiled.

“I hope so.”

Click. 

After the line went dead, Cecil set down the phone. Maybe their makeshift setup wasn't the best for receiving calls on the go, but he still wanted to make sure Carlos could call him back.

Everything was silent for a while, save for the sound of radio static. Then, Kevin finally looked back up at Cecil.

“...We should talk.”

Chapter Text

“Do you hate me?”

The bluntness of the question stunned Cecil for a moment. 

“No, of course not! I don't act like I do, do I?”

Kevin sighed, face conflicted. He shifted his weight, knees still to his chest. Cecil stared at him as the tension in the air rose further. Kevin avoided his gaze.

“Not yet , but—You hate me eventually. Who I become.”

It was true. Cecil hated the Kevin he met the day of the Sandstorm. The Kevin that took his radio station away, took his community away, who killed so many people. That Kevin was a terrifying monster, one that could claim friendship while destroying everything Cecil cared about.

But the Kevin in front of him wasn't like that. He was kind. His smile was real , filled with genuine eagerness instead of hollow obligation. He loved technology his future self would complain was obsolete. His eyes lit up with delight as he spoke about it, eyes that would one day be torn away and replaced with a terrible black abyss. He was afraid of blood. He wore clothes lovingly sewn by hand. He always wore a friendship bracelet from someone he'd lose someday.

He trusted Kevin. He also hated him. Neither statement was a lie.

“That doesn't mean I hate you! You're a wonderful person, you…” Cecil paused, gripping the fabric of his skirt. “You're my friend.”

Kevin faltered. He bit his lip as he tried to find the words to say. Cecil heard the familiar clinking of plastic beads from under the table. There was a tense silence before Kevin spoke again.

“...You said people are tapestries of experience. That every person is woven together by the things they go through. My future self is still me , it's the same tapestry , so—” Kevin took in a shaky breath. “How many threads have to be added to make me something you hate?”

“I don't…”

Cecil looked down at his skirt. It was one he made himself, created with sewn together logos from hand-me-down shirts that no longer fit either of them. Most of the designs would eventually fade, only leaving the fabric behind.

Many things fade with age. Most do, if given the chance. The binding of books you've reread so many times. The shores of a river worn away by the water it loves so much. Your mother coming back to you years later, only to see her slowly decline.

But there are many more things that never get to fade. A tree chopped down to make something new. The bug you squashed inside your home this morning, whose only crime was being in the wrong place. A suspicious restaurant fire written off as an accident.

Kevin's past self hadn't worn away like the book bindings, nor had he changed with time like the shore of a river. The old tapestry had been burnt away by force, and new threads were crudely tied onto the singed remains.

“Cecil…” Kevin fought to keep his voice steady. “Please, just… answer my question.”

He gripped the patchwork fabric tighter. “ You said you were never a violent person. You weren't just added to, you were unwoven . Ripped apart, turned into a monster—”

“Maybe I've always been a monster!”

Cecil's head snapped up to look at Kevin. His double was trembling now, tears in his eyes. His fists were clenched, making his nails dig into the cut on his hand. But he didn't look scared anymore. For the first time in his life, Cecil saw Kevin express pure, unfiltered anger .

“You treat me like I could never become that person. But I did! I've always had the potential to be a monster, everyone does! I'm not some… uniquely perfect being who got tainted by a great evil! I'm a person! ”

Kevin's entire body shook as he spoke. The tears were falling down his face now, but he continued.

“And he is too! The Kevin you hate so much is still a person! He's still me! How can I believe you when you say we're friends! How can I believe that you don't hate me, when your sympathy leaves the minute I'm not ‘the good Kevin’!” 

Cecil opened his mouth to reassure Kevin. His friend, his double, a piece of him he never knew he lost. He wanted to tell Kevin that he would still care, that things were different. That he wouldn't hate him.

But nothing came out. There were no words he could say that weren't more empty promises. He would hate Kevin. He already did.

“And I…” Kevin continued, voice choking up. “I don't want to go through all that! I don't want to be erased! The thought is terrifying! But that's not his fault, is it?”

Cecil hesitated before finally finding the words to say. “It's not. But… Isn't this better? Isn't it better to prevent the harm Strex did?”

“Better for who? ” His fists clenched tighter. Blood seeped through the bandages on his palm. “How is this better for either me? My future self doesn't get to see the benefits, and I'll have to live with erasing someone just like Strex did! The only one it's better for is you , Cecil.”

Cecil stared at him in stunned silence. His own fists were tight now.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I'm helping you!”

“Then listen to me! I’m not your little project to save!” 

“I do! I just said we were friends! I trust you, I just—” Cecil felt tears well up in his own eyes. “...I don't want to lose you.”

They both sat there for a minute, silent. The anger in Kevin's eyes turned to a resigned frustration, and he stood up. Cecil's stomach churned as he watched Kevin get to his feet.

“ Wait! ” Cecil's voice was too loud, too desperate. “Wait, I… Don't go, please, I—I'm sorry.”

Without Kevin, he was stuck in an uncertain past all alone. There was no one else that knew, no one else he could rely on. He remembered those hikes in the woods. How he would beg his mother to slow down, to not leave him behind. She never stopped.

Kevin paused, looking back down at Cecil. The frustration in his eyes softened, and he sighed.

“I… just need some time to think.”

Then he watched, in tears, as Kevin walked away.

Chapter Text

Crying was rarely fun. These were decidedly not the fun type of tears, but they were a kind Cecil knew very well. He had cried the day his mother disappeared. Some days, when Carlos worked long nights, he cried at the sight of an empty bed. In the absence of a person, all you had to fill the hole with were tears.

There were a lot of things he wanted to do other than cry. He wanted to find a bottle of wine, to fill up that hole with anything else. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Kevin off for leaving him, for refusing to understand just how hard this was. He wanted to apologize, not because he was in the wrong, but because he didn't know what else he could do.

Mostly, he just wanted to stop crying.

Cecil looked to the breadboard in front of him. Carlos was just a call away. His oasis in this wonderful desert they called home. Even the sound of his voice would be a refuge. 

But… he couldn't. Carlos was already worrying himself sick over the situation, and he couldn't bear to give his husband more burdens to shoulder. 

Especially none about Kevin.

Cecil never asked about Kevin, really. He knew Kevin was there with him, he heard Carlos mention something he did every so often… but every time, Cecil changed the subject. No matter how many times he was reassured Kevin wasn't a threat, Cecil was still terrified something would happen to Carlos while they were separated. That one day, those calls would suddenly stop.

But Kevin never did anything. He was never anything less than friendly with Carlos. Without the motivation from Strex, with someone who wasn't scared of him or hated him… he was okay.

Well, maybe not okay —that definitely was not barbecue sauce—but he wasn't out, like, starting cults or anything. 

Speaking of… Clearly the calm period didn't last. The last Cecil heard of Kevin, he was rebuilding Desert Bluffs as some kind of religious dictator. That was pretty bad , right? Why was he expected to sympathize with that? 

But Cecil knew how it would turn out. Eventually, he would lose his town again. He'd lose himself again. And he would be all alone, left only with the fading light of the Smiling God. As much as he hated to admit it, even Kevin  probably didn't deserve a fate like that. This one certainly didn't.

But Kevin— this Kevin—insisted that wasn't right. That if one of them didn't deserve it, neither of them did.

Cecil groaned and sprawled out on the floor. The tears in his eyes had turned into ones of frustration. Why was this so hard? He couldn't be expected to deal with all this on his own! Why did he have to leave? It wasn't fair.

…Kevin must have had similar thoughts, the day Carlos went back to Night Vale.

Cecil had never really thought about what it would feel like, being left that day. He was just happy that they weren't separated anymore. But Kevin… Kevin was left behind, alone in a desolate expanse, with no way to resolve his (frankly absurd amount of) issues. 

That kind of abandonment could lead an already messed up person to want to control everything else around them. To ensure by force that no one would ever leave again, that no one would make them unhappy again.

It could lead them, hypothetically, to start a murder cult dictatorship in a Desert Otherworld.

Cecil himself was never good with separation, even before his mother abandoned them without warning. He was lucky to have Abby then. They hated each other for most of their lives, sure. They also loved each other deeply. They looked out for each other, even when their sibling resented the care given.

(Mostly Cecil. He was, admittedly, kind of a brat.)

Abby was always there for him, despite his resentment. Despite her own resentment. Cecil wished, more than anything, that he could talk to her about this. She was always frustratingly right about these things. He hated that as a kid, but now it was something he desperately needed. But he didn't have her number right now.

Unless…

Cecil flipped open his phone, scrolling through his contacts. If anyone would have Abby's number, it was probably her.

“Cecil?” He was relieved to hear Sabina on the other end. “What's up?”

“I…”

Shit. He didn't think through his excuse for why he had to ask for Abby's number. He really should've thought this through.

“I, uh—I was cleaning out my contacts, and I think I… accidentally deleted Abby's number? So, you know, if you have that…”

“You two got in a fight again, didn't you?”

A beat.

“ Well… ” Cecil sighed. Sabina knew him too well for him to lie about this. “... Maybe . Do you have it, though?”

She laughed. “Yeah, let me find it.”

Cecil meekly thanked Sabina as she read out the digits. It probably sounded a bit pathetic, but if it did, she didn't mention it.

“Oh, and Cecil?” She said after he put the number in his phone.

“Yeah?”

“Don't give her a hard time again, okay? You know I love you, but you can be a bitch sometimes.”

Cecil chuckled weakly. “Okay, okay. Love you too, bye.”

Once he hung up, Cecil stared at the number on his phone screen for a long time. Abby would definitely be really pissed that he was only talking to her once he needed her support, but… What else could he do?

Maybe he would get into a screaming match. Maybe she just wouldn't answer. But it was better than being alone any longer. 

He clicked the call button before he could back out. It rang once, twice… 

“Abby?” 

He could hear his sister groan over the phone once she recognized the voice on the other end.

“ What? ” He could tell she was pinching her nose in annoyance. “Cecil, you're an adult now. You had a whole fit over that the last time we spoke, remember?”

“Uh…” Cecil wasn't sure exactly which argument she was referring to. They had a lot of those.

“...Right. Of course you don't. Well, you were very insistent you didn't need me anymore. You told me I wasn't Mom, and that you don't need to be babied, and then you stormed off. Do you remember now?”

“Yeah, I…I'm sorry, I just…” Great, he was crying again. He tried, although quite poorly, to hide the sniffling. “...I don't have anyone else, I don't know what to do. Please .”

There was a long pause. Cecil gripped his phone so tight he thought it might snap. Then, Abby let out a resigned sigh.

“I'll be right over.”

Chapter Text

Cecil told her everything. The time travel, the future fate of Kevin, their recent falling out… Abby listened intently the whole time, despite her clear annoyance at dropping everything to be here.

After he finally finished his story, she spoke.

“You're from the future, then?” She hummed as Cecil nodded. “I guess that explains why you're not being a brat right now.”

“Hey!” Cecil couldn't help but protest. His sister just rolled her eyes. 

“I guess I spoke too soon.”

He resisted the urge to huff, considering that wouldn't really help his case here. Instead, he just leaned back against the sofa. 

“I just don't know what else to do.” Cecil tugged the fabric of his skirt. “I mean, clearly he thinks I did something wrong, but I don't know how to explain that I didn't .”

Abby flicked his ear.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You're being stubborn again.” 

She stared at him, and he knew exactly what that look meant. It was the same look she would give when he tried to argue his way out of something he knew he did wrong, but was too stubborn to admit that to her.

Cecil looked away. “...I don't know, maybe . But I think I'm right.”

“Of course you do.” His sister said. “Look, tell me what actually happened. I know you're being biased. Tell me about Kevin for real .”

“I'm not—”

Cecil bit back his arguments. If he got defensive now, he knew it would just end in another falling out. Whenever one of them confronted the other, neither wanted to back down. So it just escalated and escalated until someone stormed out of the room, accomplishing nothing but resentment.

Besides, he was a reporter. He knew that all stories were limited by the perspective of the person who told them. That was just part of the fallible human experience. It was his job to take those personal stories and turn them into narratives of the public.

“I don't know where to start.” Cecil said, which was its own kind of start.

The first time he saw Kevin was during the Sandstorm. At that point, Cecil didn't know much about him, other than he looked absolutely dreadful. A horrid beast of a man. And of course, the horrific state of his studio. It wasn't until later that he got any context for that awful creature he met that day.

Kevin was an employee of Strexcorp, and a pretty influential one at that. After all, he was the public figurehead for the company's brutal agenda. So it was only fair, especially after he took over his own studio, that Cecil saw him as an embodiment of the company that had ruined so many lives.

Kevin was also, of course, terrifying. He was a brutally efficient man—quite literally, considering the violence he enacted in service of his goals. Or seemingly, just for fun. He killed employees for anything from misspelling words on paperwork to just needing more “interior decoration.” 

And he did it all with a smile. Well, “smile” was a loose term. The smiles of Strexcorp were all teeth, closer to the tight-lipped threat displays of wild primates than anything human. Kevin himself appeared to unhinge his jaw like a therapist about to bite. There were no eyes to crinkle into warm joy, no cheeks to show dimples. Only jagged teeth and hollow platitudes of happiness. Not the kind of happiness that you feel, but the kind you could package and sell. 

After Kevin was thrown into the Desert Otherworld, Cecil tried not to think about him much. He was an unpleasant reminder of Strex's brutality, and a horrible person in general. Unfortunately, avoidance could only go so far when that woeful beast was living with his then-boyfriend. 

Carlos talked about a very different Kevin than the one Cecil had learned to fear. Since he hadn't been around for most of Strex's most horrific actions, Carlos wasn't nearly as terrified of the man. To him, Kevin was a deeply troubled individual, deeply affected by the things Strex had done to him.

Cecil recalled one time when Carlos had called him, clearly in a panic. Apparently, once the brainwashing collar had stopped working, Kevin was in near constant pain. Between the awful withdrawals from the “motivational serum” and the malfunctioning shock mechanism, it was clear the device had to be removed.

But the collar had been surgically attached to his neck, making it impossible to take off without cutting him open. And since Carlos didn't have the supplies or anesthetics to remove it, Kevin took it upon himself to detach the thing—and his head along with it.

Cecil was spared the gory details of the scene Carlos had stumbled on, but considering even the vague description made him ill, he couldn't imagine how much worse it was to see. 

Carlos was never really sure if the resulting revival was a side effect of the Otherworld's strange time manipulation or just a thing Kevin could do, but the nonchalant attitude towards dying made sense given what Cecil would later learn about the man.

Kevin wasn't always this way. Before Strexcorp, he was a pretty likable person. A very likable one, actually, and they immediately formed a bond even without meeting in person. That stray broadcast showed just how much Strex had changed him, and the changes were even more prominent once they did meet.

Kevin, this Kevin, was a wonderful person. He offered to help Cecil immediately, despite meeting him mere hours prior. He was willing to risk his life in the storage tunnels of the studio, just so Cecil could talk to his husband. He loved old technology and eccentric fashion and disgustingly sweet coffee.

He was a genuine, supportive, and passionate person. All things Strex had ripped away to create their model employee.

During that stray broadcast, he made a promise. That Kevin would win in his fight against Strex, and Desert Bluffs would be okay. It was a blatant lie, meant to shield Kevin's past self from the horrors of what he'd become.

But now, he had a chance to fulfill that promise. Somehow, some way, he was going to make sure Kevin didn't have to suffer that fate. That this kind person he considered a friend would never need to be the feeble wreck of a person he heard on that future broadcast, broken and alone.

Kevin himself wasn't so sure of this plan, though. It seemed like the more they discussed their options, the more distant his double became. Until today, when everything finally fell apart. 

“The only one it's better for is you, Cecil.”

Abby pressed her fingers against her lips. She'd clearly heard enough. 

“Cecil.” 

He looked up at her, seeing the same frustrated stare as before. Abby paused before she spoke again, in a way Cecil knew was her struggling not to scold him.

“...Do you ever think about how we could've turned out differently?” She asked instead. “If Mom stuck around to take care of us, if she was there? ” 

Cecil only nodded.

“Well, recently I've realized that's stupid. We've both been shitty people, Cecil. Maybe it's our fault, maybe it's hers. Maybe we could've chose differently, or we were just fucked over by fate. We can argue about it all we want—and we have —but I think we're asking the wrong question.”

She wasn't staring at him anymore. Instead, Abby looked down at the coffee table with tired eyes. They still held onto that bitterness, but they weren't kids anymore. Like every adult, now they were living with the aftermath of being children.

Cecil tilted his head. “What's the right question, then?”

“I guess, instead of comparing ourselves to a hypothetical person we can't be anymore…” Abby sighed, looking back at him. “Can we still accept the versions of us that exist right now? ”

For a large part of his life, Cecil didn't. He always knew he was a messed up person, even if he was too stubborn to admit that to himself. Even if sometimes, he couldn't even remember why. But despite lacking the knowledge, the insecurities remained. 

Then, there was Carlos. He was the first person who didn't compare Cecil to the better version of himself he should have been. Science was about observations, Carlos told him. It was about observing the world how it was, not how you wanted it to be.

When they first met, even before they met, Cecil was infatuated. But Cecil wasn't a scientist. So at first, to him, Carlos was perfect. Smart, handsome, funny, and did he mention handsome? He idealized Carlos, or rather, the idea of Carlos.

But love wasn't built on perfection. Love was about the things that you find charming, sure. Their beautiful smile. The way they light up a room when they speak. Love was also about the things that annoyed you. The green stains on the kitchen counter. The keeping of secrets. Over the course of their relationship, Cecil had to realize something. To see someone as perfect was to not see them at all.

If Carlos was someone he idolized, then Kevin was the polar opposite. From the day they met, Cecil saw nothing but the worst of him. It wasn't like it was hard, considering how much of a threat he posed. Not to mention how creepy he was.

But… Seeing someone as pure evil also wasn't seeing them at all, was it?

Instead of seeing Kevin as a full person, Cecil separated the good of the past and the bad of the future into two distinct people. The Kevin of the past was a wonderful person, one who didn't deserve the awful things done to him. The Kevin of the future was a horrible monster, whose crimes overshadowed the events that made him this way.

Everyone was flawed. Sure, not everyone was “turn into a murderous religious dictator” flawed—but everyone had the potential to be.

Maybe that's what Kevin was getting at. 

“... Oh .” Cecil stared down at the floor.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Okay, now Cecil felt like a total jerk. Probably because he was, but it still wasn't pleasant. 

“I guess I should… probably apologize?”

“ Yes , Cecil. You should apologize.” He couldn't see Abby, but he could tell she was rolling her eyes again.

He snorted, finally standing up from the floor. She rose from the couch too, and they both looked at each other in their own begrudging form of gratitude. Abby spoke first.

“Well, I have work in a few hours.” She jabbed at him lightly. “And you need to go grocery shopping for dinner. Your pantry is atrocious.”

“It's not that bad.”

“It absolutely is. You don't even have any fruit.”

“I have fruit.” Cecil pointed to himself. “It's right here.”

Abby fought the smile on her lips as she walked towards the door. “Glad to know you're still insufferable in the future.”

Before Cecil could retort, she was already out the door. Once again, he was alone in his house. But at least this time, he had a plan to keep him company.

Chapter Text

Being in Desert Bluffs was jarring.

Cecil had never actually been to the town, of course. He didn't have a death wish . But he had seen the town in the distance, and through the blood-streaked window of that horrid radio station.

The Desert Bluffs of the future was a harsh place. Even aside from the viscera that littered the streets, the town's architecture was imposing. The skyscrapers stuck out in the desert landscape like jagged spikes reaching out to the sun, the steel buildings reflecting its blinding light. Desert Bluffs was a corporate cancer, something which grew unnaturally from the sand like a stainless steel tumor. 

This Desert Bluffs, without the influence of Strex, was almost charming. As Cecil walked through the streets—imperfect sidewalks with dandelions and crabgrass peeking through the cracks—he noticed how different the buildings were.

The residential districts were full of charming little houses. One of them had a broken front porch that someone was definitely planning to fix, eventually. Another had chalk drawings strewn across the driveway, lovingly made by a child who hadn't quite learned how any of the things drawn were meant to look. It was all so personal. It was all so human .

No one in Desert Bluffs would have their own houses after Strexcorp moved in. Instead, each employee would be assigned their own cramped apartment. There were no porches to put off fixing, no driveways to express a child's ignorant wonder of the world. Just corporate prison cells disguised as housing.

As Cecil moved further into the town, the differences only grew more striking. The elementary school was an old building, one that had clearly gone through several underfunded renovations. Like the walls of a canyon, the layers of mismatched brick were a testament to how the materials changed over the years. Faded and cracked bricks sat right next to smooth concrete, all held together by uneven mortar spread by inexperienced volunteers. 

Every part of this Desert Bluffs was a loving patchwork, a testament to how much this community cared for its home. A patchwork that would be torn apart at the seams in the name of progress. 

Would Night Vale look the same if Strex had won? Would Mission Grove Park be paved over to make way for office buildings? Strex was all about optimizing every detail into streamlined efficiency. If they had succeeded, Night Vale would just be another town consumed by the ravenous cancer of corporate greed.

A nauseating pit formed in Cecil's stomach as he walked through this version of Desert Bluffs, so similar to his own home. The thought of being in Kevin's place was already bad enough when he first learned of his fate on that fateful broadcast, but seeing it so plainly was too much to stomach. 

It wasn't like Cecil hadn't anticipated his first visit to Desert Bluffs would be sickening. It was why he'd never been, even after it merged with Night Vale. This wasn't the kind of nausea he was expecting, though.

The town he knew was sickening for obvious reasons, with all the blood and guts everywhere. This was sickening because it was just so… normal. The buildings, the houses, the people—all of it was so normal, and so, so doomed. 

Thankfully, Cecil had finally made his way to the radio station. He wasn't sure Kevin would even be there. Maybe he came here all for nothing, or maybe Kevin wouldn't want to talk at all. But it was the only option he had. So, he knocked.

At first, there was no response. It wasn't long after when a morning broadcast would air, so surely someone would still be there. Right?

The door opened. Standing in front of Cecil was a person he'd never seen before staring at him in confusion, a young woman around his age—or, at least, the age his body was. Time travel was confusing.

“You're… not Kevin.” As she glanced back into the station, Cecil noticed a familiar beaded bracelet on her wrist. This must be Vanessa. “We were just talking in the break room. Who are you?”

“Uh…”

Cecil found himself wishing he planned this more.

“I'm, uh… his clone?”

She blinked. “...What?” 

“I'm not an evil clone! That's a common misconception. Most clones aren't evil. We're friends, actually! At least, I hope so? We should've been friends, in a better life. But things went wrong, and we were separated, and…”

Cecil put his head in his hands. He was digging himself into a hole here. “...I'm Cecil.”

There was a pause.

“Oh. Why didn't you just say that?” 

He looked back up at Vanessa. She looked back, clearly unimpressed, and Cecil realized Kevin must have told her about what happened. He couldn't exactly blame her for being annoyed with him. He upset her childhood friend, after all. Cecil played with a strand of his hair, suddenly very self conscious.

“I'm… actually here to apologize.”

Vanessa's face softened. “Come on in, then.”

As Cecil walked into the studio, he was astonished at how… clean it was. Of course he knew that it wouldn't be bloody, but knowing something wasn't the same as understanding it. The stark contrast to that horrid booth was still jarring, no matter how expected it was.

“So…” Cecil wasn't sure how to ask. “How much did Kevin tell you, exactly?”

“Everything, I think—At least, as well as he could explain it. You're from the future, some evil corporation takes over and you were planning to stop it…” She laughed quietly. “I honestly didn't believe it at first. I mean, it sounds like a bad sci-fi novel. But we've had weirder things down in the Bluffs, I guess.”

Though they weren't immediately similar like other doubles, Cecil couldn't help but be reminded of Dana. She carried herself in the same way as his former intern and current friend, humble yet determined. It was a bittersweet comfort.

Cecil couldn't help but ruin the moment. “Ugh, does everyone call it the Bluffs? I thought that was just a Kevin thing.”

Vanessa just snorted, not dignifying that with a response. 

“Anyways, Kevin should still be in the break room.” Her tone grew more stern as she continued in a hushed voice. “And you better be here to apologize, alright? You seem like a nice person, but that doesn't mean I'll be nice if you upset him again. He was crying, you know.”

Oh. Cecil felt a pang in his chest. He made a friend cry, because he was too stubborn to stop and listen. It wasn't the first time he's done it, but he wished it would be the last. 

“I… I'm sorry. I was being selfish. I thought I knew what was right, but—but it's his life, and I didn't even listen to him.

Vanessa nudged him towards the hall. “Go tell that to him, not me.” 

Right. Cecil wasn't sure how it would go, or if Kevin would ever forgive him. Maybe this was just another relationship Cecil ruined with his pettiness. But either way, he was already here. He started walking.

Chapter Text

Cecil found himself standing in the doorway to the Desert Bluffs Community Radio station’s break room. Sitting inside was Kevin, who stared back at him with wide eyes. It was strange to see those eyes again, golden and… well, intact . He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it.

“Cecil?” Kevin's voice trembled. “What are you—”

“I'm sorry!” 

Both doubles froze with shock as Cecil blurted out the words. There was an awkward silence as he struggled to find the words to say next. He'd been running on momentum to get to this part, but… Oh, whatever. The most genuine apologies were the messy ones.

“I mean, I—I was… wrong.” The words hurt to say, but he continued. “I kept trying to separate you and your future self as good versus evil, a friend or a monster, all black and white, but—but the world doesn't work that way, and I knew that. I know how complex the world is, and that complexity is beautiful , but I guess I'm just… I'm still scared of him.”

Cecil was trembling too now. What if Kevin didn't forgive him? What if he was still wrong? What if… he couldn't keep his promise after all? 

No. No, that wasn't fair. Kevin wasn't a manifestation of a promise he never asked to be a part of. He wasn't a prop to be saved so Cecil could feel better about his failures. He was a person. 

“...Don't just stand there, then! C'mon, sit down.”

Kevin's voice was back to the same passionate warmth that Cecil had come to know, and he felt the tightness in his chest start to fade as he stepped forward. Sitting down next to Kevin, his double looked to him with a hesitant hope that Cecil missed deeply.

Kevin spoke again. “If you're willing to hear me out now… I want to hear you out too. It hurt to be treated like that, but… I mean, you said I become a radio host, right? I should practice my reporting skills! So… why?”

Cecil felt tears well up in his eyes. Even after everything he'd done to hurt him, Kevin wanted to hear him out? It wasn't a kindness he'd earned, but it was offered anyway. 

“I, uh…” He really didn't think he'd get this far. “...Right. I didn't exactly, you know—meet your future self in the best way? I didn't know anything about him other than he looked—no offense— really creepy and he was trying to take away everything I loved.”

Okay. Not the most nuanced start. 

“But! He… he wasn't. Strex was. It's easier to pick an individual you decide is most responsible for your suffering than try to conceptualize the machine of suffering you're both stuck in. A person is more tangible, a more focused target to direct your anger towards. Especially when you're scared. I was scared to lose my town. I was scared of what would happen if Strex won. And, uh, I was also scared because future Kevin kept killing people for fun, but that—that's not the point.

“The point is , I guess I have a problem seeing people as nuanced. When I first met Carlos, everything he did was perfect . His hair was perfect, his smile was perfect, every word from his perfect lips rang so perfectly in my ears. He was everything .” Cecil sighed and leaned back in his chair. “But Carlos didn't want that. He never asked to be my perfect everything. He just wanted to be a person. He wanted the right to be as flawed as anyone else. It took me a long time to realize that. And… I guess I was doing that again, huh?”

Kevin just nodded. 

Cecil kept going. “Then, you know, on the other hand, sometimes all I can see in a person is their flaws. Everything they do irritates me, no matter how good their intentions or valid their justifications for doing it. Everything they do is tinged with some kind of malice. My therapist says it's because I project all my failings onto people to feel better about my own faults—at least, I think that's what he says? I don't really speak snake , so…

“Anyways, I realized I was doing it again. I was treating him as some horrific monster that couldn't have any redeeming qualities, not a human being with his own issues. I mean, it's not like it's entirely unfounded—he did totally kill, like, a ton of people—” He cut himself off, somewhat begrudgingly. “...But he never got the chance to be seen as human by Strex . He was just a tool to them. If I don't recognize him as human either, it just… continues the cycle.”

The room was quiet, but the silence wasn't tense anymore. Instead, they sat in silent understanding. It took some time for Kevin to gather his thoughts before he finally addressed his double. 

“...Thank you.” He smiled, and lights in the sky , Cecil missed that smile. The genuine happiness looked so right . “I—I want to apologize too.”

Cecil blinked. “For what?”

“You're afraid. You went through… a lot because of my future self. He—I—hurt you, hurt your town.” Kevin looked down. “The Bluffs is my home . If someone was going around hurting the people I care about, brainwashed or not… I can't lie and say I wouldn't feel the same way.”

He remembered the angry determination Kevin held towards Strex during that broadcast. It was a righteous fury he'd never heard from the sickly sweet Kevin he knew. He did feel the same way. How many of the people working at Strex when they destroyed his home had been broken into compliance? Would knowing the answer change the venom in Kevin's voice when he spoke of that damned corporate cult? Cecil doubted it. It didn't change his own hatred. 

“If you don't like my future self, that's okay. You don't need to be comfortable with what he did. But… He still deserves the option to heal, even if he is as awful as you say. Because… He's still me. And if I deserve to live without their influence, so does he.”

The words were hard for Cecil to swallow, even if he did agree with them. After all, he really, really didn't like future Kevin. He wasn't sure he ever could. 

He looked out the window of the break room. Residents of Desert Bluffs went about their day just as Night Valians would. Two moms swung their toddler between their arms as they walked together, the small child giggling with each step their parents took. An older man greeted them as they passed by, looking at the toddler in delight at how much they'd grown. Two teenagers sat on the curb, commiserating over their metaphysics homework. 

Desert Bluffs was a wonderful town, and both Kevins deserved to live happily in it.

Cecil turned back to Kevin. “...Okay. How do you want to do this? It's your life, you should decide.”

Kevin pushed his cup of coffee aside so he could rest his elbows on the table. He tilted his head into his non-bandaged hand and hummed softly, the bandaged one tapping at the wood. 

“I'm… not sure. It's not like I haven't thought about it! I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. But…” He sighed. “If only there was a way for us both to exist in the future…”

A way for both of them to exist? That had to be possible , but how? Bringing Kevin to the future directly would be risky, since there would be no Kevin to become his future self. Or to fight off Strex for so long, which might speed up their takeover of both towns.

Besides, there was no guarantee that Kevin's future self wouldn't just kill him on sight. Cecil had no idea what was going on in that guy's head, but a significant amount of it was murderous intent. That was, if the residents of Night Vale didn't kill him before the future Kevin even had a chance.

But… Cecil was a public figure, and a trusted one at that. He could always sneak it into a broadcast. And, as he looked back over at Kevin's worried yet hopeful expression, he realized it was probably the best option they had. How could they even accomplish that, though?

…Wait. Didn't Cecil already try to lie about being a second Kevin? 

He slammed his hands against the table, making Kevin jump. “That's—oh, sorry—that's it!”

“Huh? What's it?”

“What if we took future Kevin's…” What was the fancy science word Carlos used? “...Dean A? You know, the little swirly thing?”

Kevin blinked. “DNA?”

“ That's the bitch! What if we took that and made a clone? Then we put your consciousness in that body, no overwriting required!”

His double stared at him for a moment. 

“...Huh. That… actually might work.” A smile formed on his lips. “But how do we get that? I mean, we'd have to get it from him first, right?”

Cecil hadn't actually thought that far ahead. As much as he was trying to understand the Kevin he knew, he really, really didn't want to actually talk to him. Understanding did not equal acceptance. For example, Cecil understood that his brother-in-law thought a hotdog was a sandwich, but that didn't mean he accepted that (frankly offensive) opinion.

“Uh…” Cecil helpfully added.

“I want to talk to him.”

The sudden declaration made Cecil bolt upright. 

“ Huh? I, uh, don't know if that—” Right. He said he'd try to be supportive. “Er, I mean… Why?”

Kevin stared down at his bracelet and lowered his other hand to roll the beads underneath his thumb. “It doesn't feel right to make any decision without knowing what he would want. We've talked a lot about what I want for my future, but… He's me too. His future is still mine, and he should get a say in it. We need his approval to get the DNA in the first place, so…”

Cecil bit his lip. His double had a point, which was a shame because he was hoping he could avoid future Kevin for… basically forever, honestly. It was Kevin's call, though.

“...Alright.” Cecil relented. “But I don't exactly… have his number? Mostly he just hijacks my signal while I'm on the air unprompted—which, like, rude —So, yeah, I don't have it.”

“Carlos was his friend, right? Does he still have it?”

God, did he ever. Carlos agonized for weeks on whether or not he should delete it, but ultimately said it felt cruel. Cecil pointed out it just felt worse to have someone's number and not do anything with it—but Carlos was always too kind, even if he hurt himself in the process. 

And honestly, Cecil missed his husband (and desperately needed the reassurance that this wasn't, you know, a totally bonkers idea). He pulled his phone out of his tunic pocket to dial Carlos. This was totally a mistake.

But before he could second guess himself, Cecil pressed call.

Chapter Text

Cecil didn't even have the time to say a word before his husband started fretting.

“Oh thank god , you're okay!” Judging by the noise, Carlos slumped down in his chair with relief. “I haven't heard from you in days—and I'm still not sure if there's a time difference, so it could be even longer—I was so worried something happened to you. Did something happen? A scientist never confirms a hypothesis until he has evidence.”

Cecil held back a laugh. As much as he hated worrying Carlos, he had to admit it was a little cute when he fussed over him.

“I'm fine, bunny. Kevin's here.”

It was still strange to say that like it was a comfort, but it was. Before, having a double was always a curse. An evil doppelgänger you had to kill at any cost, because it was either you or them. And, you know, Kevin's future self didn't exactly help by being covered in blood all the time. 

Your double was your reflection, and Cecil was terrified of mirrors. 

But lately, the concept didn't feel so scary. Doubles were two sides of the same coin. There was this sense of belonging when he was with Kevin, like they were two puzzle pieces that finally found their match. He only wished they found each other sooner the first time.

“Oh! Hello, Kevin!”

Kevin waved at the phone. “Hi!”

“We, uh, took some time to patch things up.” Cecil explained. “You know how I am.”

“Mhm. You still haven't apologized to Telly.”

“Okay, that one is totally deserved! Besides, it’s not like he's exiled anymore or whatever, so like, it's fine .”

Carlos laughed. “Whatever you say, honeybee.”

Kevin stared at Cecil. “Sorry, you exiled someone?”

“Ehh, kind of.” Cecil gave a dismissive hand gesture. “Only City Council can officially exile people. I just gave a… strong recommendation as a public figure for him to pay for his crimes.”

“Telly cut my hair ten years ago.” Carlos told Kevin in a conspiratorial whisper that Cecil could still totally hear. “He's still bitter about it.”

“And I'm completely justified in doing so!”

Kevin snickered. “Okay, now I'm glad it only took three days for Cecil to drive over here and apologize.”

“Drive over?” Cecil could tell he was tilting his head. It was adorable when he did that. “You're in Desert Bluffs? What, uh… What's it like?”

Cecil looked out the window again. It was nearing lunchtime now, and people were starting to flow into the Sunlite All-Day Diner across the street—one that a faded street sign nearby identified as Leviathan Road. Patrons sat at booths with garish yellow seats, where the cheap leather had clearly been flaking off for years. A pair of high school boys sat by the window, looking at a milkshake with two straws that both were too shy to drink from first. A child ran around the restaurant as an exhausted single mother tried to keep him from bothering the other patrons.

“...Just like anywhere else.”

Carlos was quiet for a moment. 

“...My—uh, future —Kevin didn't talk much about what Desert Bluffs was like before. I don't think he remembered it very well, but he knew he loved it very much. That's why I couldn't bear to tell him about—” Carlos cut himself off with an awkward cough. “Er, nevermind. What about you, Kevin? Are you okay?”

Kevin gave Cecil a pointed look. He sank down in his seat. He, uh, maybe forgot to mention the complete economic collapse of Desert Bluffs. In his defense, there were a lot more pressing things to explain. 

“I'm alright—Oh!” Kevin's eyes lit up as he remembered why they called. “We might actually have a plan now!”

“ Really? What is it? Hang on, let me—” There was the sound of rustling papers as Carlos grabbed a (very illegal) pen. “Okay, ready!”

Cecil let out a dreamy sigh at how cute his husband was when he got excited by science, which made Kevin snicker softly. 

“Well, the main problem was getting me there without compromising future Kevin, right? I didn't want to just take over his body, that feels gross.”

“Right.”

“So, what if we made a new body? Like… a clone or something. I mean, I don't know the science of that—”

“Oh!” Carlos said in a way that Cecil could feel his eyes light up. “Cloning is a fascinating subject! Did you know that one in every twenty Americans is a clone? Well—due to a technicality in the Constitution, clones aren't legally Americans… There's been a lot of lobbying to fix that, though.”

“So… it's possible?” Kevin tilted his head. 

“Absolutely! Clone technology has come a long way. Through a process similar to asexual reproduction, genetic material can—” Carlos paused. “...Oh.”

Cecil winced sympathetically. “Yeah, about that… Kevin was wondering if he could have Kevin's number.”

A beat.

“That is, past—present for us—Kevin wants future—present for you —Kevin's number.” He groaned. “We really need to come up with a better way to differentiate them.”

There was silence on the other end for a while. Carlos was probably contemplating just hanging up and brute forcing another solution that didn't involve talking to Kevin. Before Cecil could tell him to please not do this right now, he finally responded. 

“Are you… sure? I mean, hon, you don't exactly…” Carlos audibly winced. “... like him?”

Kevin was the one to speak up this time. “We talked about that, don't worry. I don't expect Cecil to like my future self, or even be comfortable talking to him. But it's his life too, so he should get a say on what we do next. Besides, we kind of need his approval anyway.”

“Right…” He didn't sound convinced.

“I can tell him you want to make up, if you want.” Kevin's voice was soft. “If—if that would make it easier to talk to him.”

Carlos was never good at starting conflict resolution, or really resolving things at all. He was a brilliant scientist, always enthusiastic to find solutions to outside problems. But when it came to the problems in his own life, the ones he couldn't rely on science to solve, he wasn't sure where to start. Instead he ignored them, and they just kept building and building, until the secrets got so big Carlos couldn't bring it up.

Cecil couldn't feel loved when he isn't trusted with every aspect of someone's life, but that only made Carlos pull away further. He could never understand his husband's need for privacy. After all, no secret in Night Vale was private anyway, so why bother keeping them? He didn't need to understand to respect it, though. At least, that's what he was told in couple's therapy.

“...Yeah.” Carlos said quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Thank you, Kevin.”

Hesitantly, Carlos gave him the number. Kevin thanked him, and they all said their goodbyes. After Cecil hung up, Kevin turned to him.

“So,” he said “I think there's more we need to talk about.”

Chapter Text

Cecil shrunk back in his chair slightly. Alright, now he felt a bit hypocritical thinking about Carlos’ avoidance tendencies. 

“What, like… about the whole differentiating you and future Kevin?” He replied, knowing that wasn't what Kevin was talking about.

Kevin gave him a look. 

“Well—No, and you know that's not what I meant, but we should probably do that too.”

“Kevin 1 and 2?” Cecil offered.

“Which one is which?” Kevin tapped his finger on the table. “Besides, we're still the same person. Neither of us are more or less Kevin.”

Cecil hummed. What was distinct about them? Calling them past and future didn't really work, considering time wasn't real. It was convenient when talking to past—present—Kevin, but the line would be blurry once they were talking to future Kevin, who was his own present Kevin. 

“...We could call your future self Murder Kevin?”

Kevin made a noise of disbelief. “That's rude!”

“What? He totally does murder people! It's not like he'd see it as an insult.”

“ Still! ”

Cecil stuck his tongue out. Kevin just rolled his eyes in response, not dignifying that with a reply.

“Actually, I was wondering…” Cecil tilted his head a bit. “I was never sure if it was just the person saying it, or the nickname in general—What about Kev?”

Kevin flinched so hard that he bumped the table.

“No!” Both of them looked surprised at the sudden volume. Kevin let out a shaky sigh. “I mean… Kev is what my father used to call me.”

He rubbed the burns across his hands, staring down at the childhood scars. With how painful those scars must have been to get, Cecil always assumed it was some test of loyalty by Strex. When Kevin explained who actually gave him those burns, he was shocked. Cecil was obviously acutely aware of how parents could be. But the pain his mother caused was usually incidental. She didn't remember she even had children she could hurt. To think that Kevin's father could do that on purpose , cause pain so severe that the scars were so prominent even now…

Well, it made his stomach churn.

“...Oh. I didn't mean—I'm sorry.”

His double grimaced. “It's alright. You didn't know.”

There was a moment of silence. Cecil wanted to say more, but what else could he say? That fathers shouldn't be like that? He had no idea what having a dad was even like , let alone how they should act. If that was what all fathers were like, Cecil was glad he didn't have one.

“Right, well…” Cecil shifted awkwardly. “We can just call you Intern Kevin? And he can be, uh… Otherworld Kevin.”

Kevin tilted his head a couple times as he thought it over. 

“Yeah, that works!” He looked up at Cecil. “Alright, now tell me about what I was actually asking about.”

Cecil groaned and leaned back. He'd really rather not, but Kevin has a right to know. Besides, if he was coming to the future, there was no way he wouldn't find out.

“Well… You know how I said Strex bought out every business in Desert Bluffs?”

Kevin nodded.

“When we drove Strex out—Erika bought them out, long story—the town had basically no economy, so…” He waved his hand vaguely. “It ended up getting merged with Night Vale.”

His double stared at him, then out the window at the town he loved so much. A beautiful town full of people who never deserved this. He dug his fingers into his hand. 

“...Is everyone okay?”

Cecil looked at him with a sad smile. Of course that would be Kevin's first question. It would be his first question too. More than anything, more than a name or a shadowy government agency, a place was defined by the people who lived in it. Just living somewhere was one thing, but it took a community to make it home. 

“...Okay as they can be, considering.” Cecil sighed. “A lot of them followed him—you—to the Otherworld when he started building a town out there. He called it Desert Bluffs Too, which is kind of dumb, but…”

He trailed off when he noticed tears in Kevin's eyes. 

“But, uh—They're happy there, I think.”

“That's nice.” Kevin said softly. 

“Yeah.”

They both looked out the window for a while. Cecil had never actually seen Desert Bluffs Too, considering he avoided Kevin like the plague. But now he wondered if it looked more like this. Humble, cozy, and happy.

Then he remembered there was a giant temple that did human sacrifices regularly. Yeah, probably not exactly the same.

“How's Vanessa?”

He inhaled sharply. Yikes, that's awkward. Kevin whipped his head around to face him, eyes wide with concern.

“What? Is she alright? Did something happen?”

Cecil glanced away, wincing. 

“I don't… know?”

Kevin's face scrunched up. “What do you mean, you don't know?”

“The details are… weird?” He fiddled with a strand of hair. “First he said she died during the sandstorm, then she's been dead for years, but she also moved to the Otherworld with him and helps with the station? He still acknowledges that she's… uh, not there, though.”

Kevin gripped his friendship bracelet tightly as the tears spilled down his cheeks.

His voice was barely a whisper. “Did… did they kill her?”

“I… I think so. That's what I always figured.”

Suddenly, Kevin bolted up from his chair. He let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a growl. 

“Ugh, I'm going to fucking kill them!” He paced around the room. “They destroy my town , they hurt my community , and now they— Ugh! ”

He slammed his fists against the wall. Shoulders heaved from heavy breaths, the sound of choked sobs got louder. His anger dissolved into grief, and he slid down to the floor. His best friend was destined to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Cecil rushed over with no hesitation to sit down next to him.

“Hey, hey…” 

There was nothing he could say that would fix this, but he didn't need to. Kevin immediately clung to him. Cecil pulled him closer, letting his double sob on his shoulder for the second time this week. 

“It's not fair!” Kevin wailed between sobs. 

“I know, I know.”

“Why us? What did we do to deserve this?”

Cecil held his shaking double tighter. “You didn't. It was just… rotten luck.”

Kevin buried his face into his shoulder. Cecil could feel his tunic getting soaked, but he didn't care. They sat there for a long time, silent except for the sound of Kevin's quiet sobs. 

Despite his reservations about the place, Desert Bluffs was once a wonderful town. It was so much like Night Vale, full of so much charm and life. Even the layouts were once so similar. Before, Cecil was just grateful that it wasn't him. But seeing this town, how the people cared for each other as much as his own community did, how much this town meant to everyone in it… 

It felt like watching the beginning of a tragedy. At the start, all the characters are safe and happy. But you can read the playbill, you know something will go wrong. A churning dread sits in your stomach as you wait for the other shoe to drop, you want to stop it, you want to call out to the characters and tell them what's going to happen to them—but what good would that do? Wouldn't that just make the characters feel more pain, to know their fate? No matter what Cecil did, the play was already written. These people would suffer, and his attempts to save them were like trying to wipe up the ocean with a paper towel.

But they were still happy now, weren't they? Happiness wasn't less meaningful just because life could get worse. In that moment, that beautiful moment yet to be snuffed out, this community was happy. And no matter what happened next, that still mattered. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry…” Kevin struggled to keep his voice steady as he pulled back.

“It's okay. We—we can talk to her about it after the phone call, alright? You can say whatever you need to.” Cecil wiped a tear off Kevin's cheek. “I'm sure she'd want you to live on.”

Kevin sniffled, wiping the rest off with his sleeves. “Yeah… Yeah, I know she would. She'd drag me to sleepovers because she knew my house wasn't safe. As soon as we graduated, she helped me move out. She—she kept me going, you know?”

Cecil thought about how Earl would help distract Ralphs employees so he could steal a meal that his own mother forgot to make. He thought about Abby, who fought and complained but always comforted him when Mom made him cry. He thought about his favorite teachers, who let him stay after school on the days he didn't feel like going home. He thought about every single person in his life who showed him kindness when he was a troubled, honestly kind of bratty kid.

“...Yeah. I know what you mean.”

There was a lull as Kevin composed himself again. Cecil was about to tell him that it's okay, we can do the call later, but Kevin spoke first.

“Okay. I'm ready.”

Cecil looked over to him. “Are you sure?”

Kevin's face was still nervous, eyes red from the tears, but he looked determined as he nodded. Well, they should probably rip the bandaid off at some point, right? So, despite his brain screaming at him to not call that fucker , Cecil dialed the number Carlos gave them. 

On the other end was a voice familiar to both of them, yet uncannily different. 

“Hello? Kevin speaking!”

Chapter Text

Despite all their talk of accepting Otherworld Kevin, despite being sympathetic to his situation, Cecil still had to hold back a groan at his voice. He hastily passed the phone over to Intern Kevin, who looked slightly intimidated by the prospect of starting the conversation. Still, he was determined. 

“Uh…” Intern Kevin said. “Hello! Kevin also speaking, I guess?”

“Oh!” The other one exclaimed. He paused for a moment. “Well, isn't that interesting… As far as I know, there's only one me! But there's always things in this wide world you don't know, aren't there? So, so many things.”

“Actually, there is only one you! Us? I'm calling from the past, before the…” Intern Kevin trailed off, clearly wondering if it was insensitive to bring up Strex. “...You know. Before.”

Otherworld Kevin clearly knew what he meant, but he didn't address it. “I see! So that's why you sound so… quaint. Fascinating! I've heard of radio signals from the past, but not phone calls.”

So he did remember that broadcast. Cecil always wondered how that time loop worked. If he changed the past, or if that always happened, or if that made an alternate timeline, or some other weird combination of the three. If Otherworld Kevin remembered it though, it must've happened in this timeline. 

Maybe. Time was weird, and timelines were even weirder. 

“Actually, we are using a radio signal! We used a breadboard to widen the bandwidth of the phone, running the signal through some capacitors and a bandpass filter and—” He realized this information wasn't exactly relevant, regardless of how interesting it was to him. “Uh, we can talk about that later.”

“We? Who else—”

Otherworld Kevin was cut off by someone in the background. The noise was hard to make out through the jerry-rigged signal, but it sounded like a younger voice making fake airplane sounds.

His voice was further from the mic. “Donny honey, Papa is on the phone. Why don't you go play outside? It's a beautiful sunny day out!”

What?!

The voice—a child, apparently—said something in response, but Cecil didn't catch it. He was too busy choking on his own spit, completely caught off guard by Kevin's words. Subtly clearing his throat turned into loud coughs as Cecil doubled over on the floor.

“Are you… okay?” Intern Kevin asked.

“YOU HAVE A FUCKING KID?! ” Cecil managed through gasps.

“Oh! Hello, Cecil!” 

Cecil held back another groan. “Hi, Kevin.”

Otherworld Kevin giggled. “Well, he certainly seems to know me!”

“He does!” The other Kevin said as Cecil struggled to catch his breath. “Cecil is actually from the future—Well, my future, your present. We're trying to get him back there, but—”

“No no, back up , we're not done.” Cecil's voice was still raspy. “Where did you get a kid? Don't tell me you kidnapped a child.”

“What? No, of course not! He's my boyfriend's kid.” 

“You have a boyfriend?! ”

“You know Cecil, you should really call more.”

Intern Kevin laughed nervously. “Can I explain the situation now?”

Cecil put his head in his hands and finally let out the groan he'd been holding back. There was no point in trying to understand anything Otherworld Kevin said.

“ Fine .”

“Right, well!” Intern Kevin continued. “Cecil somehow got sent back from your time to mine. We've been working on a way to get him back, and I think we've finally figured something out.”

“That's great! I'm so glad our friendship transcends time.”

Cecil's head shot up as he opened his mouth to argue that, no, we are not friends . But somehow, through a level of restraint he should really get a Nobel Prize for, he refrained.

Intern Kevin held back a laugh. “Yeah, he's a great friend. I wish we'd met sooner the first time.”

“Hm, I suppose so…” Otherworld Kevin responded distantly.

There was a pause as Intern Kevin waited for him to say more, but the other Kevin had seemingly spaced out.

“...Cecil is also helping me with something. I'm trying to avoid the, uh… what happened to you.”

“Hm? Why?”

He blinked. “Huh? It's just that…”

Intern Kevin frowned, struggling to find the words to say. How could you reason with someone so utterly convinced the violence done to him was good? How could you explain why you wanted to avoid something seen as beneficial? The mindset was so far removed from logic, so far removed from anything either of them could understand, that trying to explain was near impossible.

So, he tried a different approach. “...Are you happy?”

“Of course I'm happy! I always am!” Otherworld Kevin responded instantly. 

Intern Kevin frowned, glancing over to Cecil with a concerned look. Cecil just shrugged. 

“Are you… satisfied? With the life you have now, I mean.”

There was a hesitation this time. Otherworld Kevin considered this question more thoroughly than the previous one. Maybe he looked around his house, out to his child playing outside, back to the bedroom he shared with his boyfriend. Maybe he looked out at the town he had built by himself, where the residents of Desert Bluffs Too went about their days. Damaged, irrevocably changed by what Strex had done to them, but still together. 

“...Yes.” He finally said. “Yes, I think I am.”

Intern Kevin smiled slightly. Despite all the torture, despite the horrific transformation he'd been forced to endure, his future self had found happiness. A battered and twisted form of happiness, but happiness nonetheless. 

“...I'm glad.”

“Are you? I don't remember much before they… before… before , you know? But I was told I used to be very unhappy. A real grumpster!” Otherworld Kevin laughed quietly, before his amusement turned to confusion. “But you don't sound unhappy. I mean, you could stand to be a bit more enthusiastic—but that's to be expected! A lot of people don't know how to… demonstrate their happiness in a proper way.”

Intern Kevin and Cecil shared another look. That wasn't something they had the time to unpack right now. 

“I am,” he said instead. “I love my life. I love my town and everyone in it, and no matter what happens next, I want to live through it as myself. I don't want my body and my personality to be changed by them, no matter how better they'd think my life would be.”

Otherworld Kevin hummed in thought. Perhaps he couldn't imagine not wanting their “help”, not after being broken down into believing it to be necessary—a kind act, even. A salvation from a version of himself he barely knew anymore. But here that version was, telling him he didn't want that divine salvation. Those thoughts that were once his own were now a foreign language to him. 

“We have a plan now, and I think it might work,” Intern Kevin continued. “But we need your help. I wouldn't feel right just replacing you, and I don't think you'd want that either—so we're going to clone you, and then put my consciousness in that body. The problem is… we need a sample to do that. I know you'll never understand why I want to do this, but… Please.”

The line was quiet for a moment as his future self contemplated the offer, the only sound from the other end being a gentle tapping against wood. Finally, he spoke again.

“I don't understand … but it's important to be happy! And while I don't know how you're happy without them, if you really are happy as this self, I won't take that away from you!”

Intern Kevin visibly perked up. “So, you'll help?”

“Sure! This may be the path I chose, but it's not the only one.”

“You didn't choose it, though.” His past self muttered sadly.

Otherworld Kevin hummed again. “...I didn't. Not at first, anyway. The trajectory of my life was forever changed, like a train switching from one track to another. The train certainly doesn't have a say on the rails it travels, does it? That's decided by the person who pulls the lever. But even though I didn't choose this path, I still walk it proudly. I didn't get a say in the person I am. Still, I'm happy with who I've become.”

As Intern Kevin heard that, tears welled up in his eyes. He smiled as he wiped them away. And even though Cecil had a… strained relationship with the man, he couldn't help but feel a similar sense of relief. Kevin, no matter how much torture and brainwashing he endured, still found a life of his own. A life with a boyfriend and a kid even, which was still really weird to think about. Maybe he wouldn't become that Kevin he heard on the radio, lonely and distant, without even a sense of self to keep him company. Maybe Cecil never had to save Kevin from Strex. In a way, he already did that himself.

Cecil was still totally going to do it anyway, though.

“...Thank you.” Intern Kevin sniffled. “Um, Carlos is the one who's helping with the cloning. I don't actually know much about the process, but I know he needs a sample for it.”

Otherworld Kevin's voice grew sickly sweet at the mention of Carlos. “Oh! I see . He only wants me when I'm useful, then?”

“Hey! That's not—” Cecil immediately piped in to defend Carlos, but he was cut off.

“It's fine , Cecil!” The Kevin on the phone said, in a cheery tone that sounded like he wanted to punch a wall. “It's not like I'm not used to it!”

Intern Kevin shifted nervously. “Actually, uh… he wanted to apologize. When he heard my voice on the phone for the first time, he started crying.”

“He… cried? I made him cry?”

Otherworld Kevin's tone softened slightly. Cecil thought of the story Carlos told him again, of the day Kevin removed his own collar. Despite dying from the blood loss mere minutes ago, Kevin was far more concerned that he'd made Carlos cry over it. At the time, Cecil just thought it was Kevin's weird aversion to anything negative, but...

“...He misses you.” Cecil said. “I don't really get it, but… he thinks about you a lot. He's just really bad at taking the first step.”

It was true. Carlos didn't talk about Kevin much, both because it was too painful and Cecil didn't like the topic either. But he saw Carlos stare with grief at that contact in his phone, too scared to call but too guilty to delete it. It haunted him. He dug himself too deep into the hole of avoidance, and now the only option was to keep running. 

“... Fine .” Otherworld Kevin said in a tone that was equally not fine, but in a different way. He forcibly switched it back to his familiar upbeat facade. “If it helps you, then I'll think about it!”

Cecil grimaced. That was a start, but he had a feeling that start would probably go poorly. When Carlos left the Otherworld, it was the first time he'd ever heard Kevin sound genuinely upset . Not passive aggressive, not threatening, but upset . Not only that, but even Kevin seemed confused by this. Like he'd completely forgotten how it felt to feel sadness. 

Cecil could never stand the idea of people leaving him, but at least it was a feeling he was familiar with. To Kevin, it was probably the biggest hurt he could remember. At least the torture brought him a twisted sense of euphoria. But here, there was no greater purpose. Carlos leaving just… hurt . 

He felt a nudge against his leg.

“Are you alright?” Intern Kevin whispered away from the phone. “I know you're still… getting used to talking to him.”

Cecil sighed quietly. “It's not that, it's just… I'll tell you later, alright?”

He wouldn't even know how to address these feelings. The hatred would've been way easier to stomach. Thankfully, his double just nodded and turned back to the phone. 

“Thank you so much. I'm… glad we got to talk about this.” 

“Why, of course! I did always wonder what I was like…” He trailed off again. “Well, I guess we'll have to see when we meet in person, hm?”

Intern Kevin lit up. This was more than just a desperate dream now. They were actually going to do this. Kevin would get the chance to live the life that they stole away.

Cecil couldn't help but smile as he listened to the Kevins say their goodbyes. Intern Kevin was his friend, as strange as it sounded. It didn't even sound strange anymore—it sounded right . The doubles were so intrinsically intertwined, but Strex had ripped them apart before they even had the chance to find each other.

But not this time. This time, they were going to win .