Who: Phil (
britchillsout) and Dean Smith (
respectedman) // Philip (
sadfreezingbrit) and Alex Kralie (
40410)
Where: Smith & Phil's room on the mirrorside // 5th floor on the realside
When: The evening of Christmas Day
Rating: R for character death
Summary: The event is over and Phil walks back to Smith's room. Hey, did he mention that he met his regular just before being transported back? It
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Comments 43
...It doesn't actually hurt. (That's probably bad too.)
Actually, it feels a little like not going to sleep for a day or two, when you end up just a little colder, your muscles just a little stiffer and your mind just a little blanker than you care them all to be.
(Not that Phil ever really cared about that, but still, he thinks he could use a rest right about now.)
And when he stares down the corridor he realises that he's made it all the way up to the tenth floor. Behind him there's red drops on the stairs, crimson smears on the wall and an overall bloody mess in his wake.
But at least he's home.
Phil takes another step forward, cold hand wrapping around cold metal, and opens the door.
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He's even hoping to coerce Phil into watching a movie that isn't a porno with him, given the holiday spirit and all that.
It's good to be back on their own side, and it shouldn't be long before Phil shows u-
"I wondered when you'd get back," he muses, turning with a mug in hand as the doorknob clicks.
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He doesn't even feel it.
"Phil!"
Smith scrambles to the door, catching him before he can fall, pulling him inside. There's red. So much red. Everything is red.
"Oh Jesus, Phil, what-" he chokes, voice struggling to catch up to his brain.
"-what happened?"
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"Ghrngh."
Keeping his mouth closed while walking upstairs, not letting the blood pooling in it drip out. Right. He forgot about that.
"Guessssshe... didn't like the tapes."
He coughs. Or laughs. Or tries both, he isn't sure.
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He'd pass it by if he didn't recognise the voices of Philip and-- Philip.
Well, if it's someone fighting with a friend - and if it's a mirror tormenting a regular, which is the first and likeliest explanation - then that changes things quite a bit.
He opens the door in time to see the poker and the blood and the stabbed, vanishing man, and things change yet again.
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"Fuck."
'Hey! Will you look at that! Way to go, monkey! Did one in on your own, uncle Clarence is real proud of you!'
More blood slowly runs down the poker, already cold when it reaches Philip's hand. He gasps and lets go, the iron falling to the floor with a metallic clatter.
"I didn't mean..."
He closes his eyes and presses both hands firmly against his face, taking a deep breath through his fingers. He turns a little, takes a step to the side, just to unfreeze himself from that particular spot.
And when his arms sink down again and his eyes open he finds himself looking directly at the doorway. And at Alex.
Fuck.
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Alex ends up staring at Philip for several too many seconds, while his expression tries to resolve itself into something besides 'holy shit'.
Of course, we haven't listed all the variables yet. That wasn't a man Philip stabbed: it was a Mirror. And while there is apparently the odd good apple in the barrel, Alex's overwhelming experience of mirrors is of Lamb's, of his own, of people who he'd do the same thing to in a heartbeat.
Which is why he finally looks away from Philip, at the mended mirror-glass, with a hard expression. Then back at Philip.
"...Is he dead?"
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Philip stares. At Alex. At the mirror. Back and forth, just a few times too many.
A bloody hand print trails off into a smear where Phil must have supported himself on the other side. It doesn't look like he fell, exactly. But the memory is vivid and ever so helpful. Phil staring in disbelief, the iron reflected in the glass behind him, going right through him. A sizable puddle of blood on the floor and that's just the work of mere seconds.
"I doubt... he'll make it."
But it was an accident.
Philip's voice is hollow and distant, belonging to somebody else entirely.
And he had it coming!
Somebody who isn't currently torn between something he thought would be a relief and something that ought to horrify him utterly.
And he's just a mirror.
"He was just a mirror!"
Philip finally turns back to Alex, his voice desperate and pleading.
"I just--"
He swallows. Falls silent.
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