A/N: Hey y'all. Been a while, right?

I've been posting stories here and there on Tumblr and AO3. I wrote this one in March of 2017, and recently thought that I should post it here too. (Obviously, I don't just write about Muse anymore, lol.)

This story was actually a request from Tumblr user katsumiki:

can you write an imagine with mike from until dawn where the reader falls into a river and almost drowns, after she gets out and catches her breath she goes up to the sanatorium and runs into mike? if you don't wanna do that ill just suggest anything Mike x reader

I tried my best to keep the perspective gender-neutral so that anyone can enjoy it. Here goes!

The winter chill bit viciously at my exposed face as I pulled my coat tighter around me. "Sh-sh-shit-t," I muttered into the empty air, not quite being able to spit out the expletive without my teeth chattering violently around the word. At this rate, I was going to become an ice sculpture before I could get back to the tent. Why had I even agreed come up here in the first place?

I thought bitterly of my two best friends, who had convinced me (with cookies, for the most part) that an impromptu camping trip on private property was the perfect spring break getaway. Of course, the very night we'd gotten here, the blizzard to end all goddamn blizzards was unleashed upon this very mountain. Now I was lost in a dark maze of icy trees, all of my tracks quickly being covered by the pummeling snow, just to find my way back to our little tent after a tinkle in privacy. Perhaps if I hadn't been such a modest prude, insisting to trudge almost forty yards away just to drop trou, I wouldn't be in this situation.

"Hello?" I called out into the blackness, but my plea was lost in the howling winds of the mountain. "Hello!" I tried again, to no avail. Stuffing my gloved hands in my coat pockets, I gave up and nuzzled my face farther into my scarf, trying my best to follow my faint tracks from a few minutes ago.

It looked like I was heading the right direction, but a moment later I came to a dead end where a bank of snow had collapsed into the path to cover any mark of my previous existence. Well, shit. I had to go around.

I selected my detour a few yards away from the blockage, the only sound distinguishable over the blusterous winds being the crunch of the snow under my boots.

Without warning, something gave way beneath my next step. I shrieked and both my arms flew outward, just barely catching the ground in time as my body fell backward. There was a loud crack, followed by a smaller crackle and a final snap. I felt myself being pulled, and I struggled, only to feel my feet become enveloped in the freezing cold.

After a moment of confusion, I realized I had fallen through a sheet of ice and into some body of water. I quickly determined that it was a small river based on how violently I was being tugged away from land, and I was completely unable to hold onto the snow at the bank. With a final, futile cry for help, I was swept away, and I went under.

So cold. Fuck. I need—air—!

With that thought, I was miraculously thrust upward by the rushing water. However, I gasped for breath just slightly too early; my mouth was filled with frigid water and I instinctively inhaled some of it. I coughed and spluttered, but was quickly forced underwater again. Everything was black.

This is it. This is how I am going to die.

At first, I panicked at the revelation, but then an overwhelming sense of calm suddenly coursed through my body. There was no struggle, and my muscles relaxed, submitting entirely to the will of nature. In that moment, I experienced a feeling of peace and comfort I'd never felt before. The stinging cold faded in the face of this new, all-encompassing contentedness.

Just as soon as this gift was given to me, it was stolen away, and I was thrown haphazardly by the current back onto a piece of solid ground. Well, as solid as ground can get when it's buried under two or more feet of icy fluff.

I immediately scrambled to my feet, overcome by the agony of the wind whipping against my cold, soaking body. My shaking hands fell to my knees and I spluttered and wretched at the ground, my body desperate to expel any and every liquid from my lungs. I was alive. A moment later I allowed myself to gasp in some fresh air (followed promptly by another coughing fit), and I stumbled away from the creek. As far away as I could manage.

All of these fucking pine trees looked the same. "Help," I croaked uselessly, praying that my friends would find me and escort me to the heavenly refuge that was our campsite. Fire and blankets were my only hope at this point.

So cold. So cold. Fuck. Shit. Cold... It was all my brain could process. I meandered uselessly through the forest, totally convinced that I would never see my friends again, even though they were probably only a few minutes' walk away from me. But in which direction?

It didn't matter now, because now I lifted my eyes from the snowy ground only to see that I'd trudged right into a clearing in the trees. I inhaled sharply, thinking maybe I'd accidentally walked right back to our campsite. I abandoned that idea immediately as I spotted a tall chain-link fence towering above me. Slightly beyond it was an abandoned-looking building. Thinking this was my best chance for warming up at the moment, I resolved to make it through somehow and get out of the wind.

It didn't take much more walking before I found a bent and broken portion of the fence. I made to duck and maneuver through it, but that proved difficult under my current circumstances. I could barely move any of my joints, and my body shuddered uncontrollably, knees buckling under my own weight. As I attempted to slide through, the hood of my coat hooked itself on a protruding strand of metal, and I flailed, eventually ending up gracelessly falling through the rest of the opening. I heard the angry rip of fabric as my parka tore in two. God damn it.

I stood clumsily, shrugging off my ruined coat and letting it hang, tangled, in the fence. It was probably wiser to strip off that wet layer anyway. My sweatshirt underneath was damp, but certainly not drenched.

There was a pair of double doors a few dozen feet away. I ran to them—well, loped at an increased pace—and tugged at the both of the handles, only to find them locked tight. Obviously. I was limping along the wall of the building, looking for another way in, when I rounded a corner and spotted a broken-in window some three feet above my head. It was shoddily boarded up with fabric hung on the inside of it, but it would be easy enough to crawl through if I could get up there.

I looked around myself frantically, searching for something I could use to reach the opening. There was a fallen tree, but that would clearly be impossible to haul over here. Against the opposite fence, however, there was a large square lump under the heavy whiteness, and a shiny blue surface shone at the corner where the snow had blown away. I approached it and dusted off the top, only to find that it was an old, empty shipping container of some kind. This would do.

After much grunting and struggling—more than I care to admit—the crate had been shoved up against the wall and my upper body was wriggling through the boards and into the building. I fell face-first toward the floor (which was thankfully only a couple feet down), but caught myself and pulled my body the rest of the way through, landing hard on the cold ground. Coughing, I took a moment on the broken tile floor to wrap my arms around my knees and catch my breath.

What was this place? It was a large, empty room with several broken-down doors leading out of it into long stretches of hallways. The only objects visible were a gurney, some scattered papers, and a pile of rubble below a hole in the ceiling. An old hospital? Whatever it was, it was clearly abandoned, and it was a thousand times better in here than out there.

Standing again, I stripped my wet sweater off, opting to tear down the large sheet on the window and wear that instead. I patted down my legs with the musty fabric, hoping to dry off a little. In the process, I heard an ungodly screech of some sort, and froze on instinct. It sounded far away—was it outside? I tried to calm myself down. It was most likely just a barn owl.

After tying my wet shirt around my waist and wrapping myself in the sheet, I continued forward in search of better shelter. Out into the hall, left, around some debris, and then left again into a darker, smaller room. I pulled a lighter out of my pocket to see better, thanking my past self for taking it with me in case I would need it. Upon lighting it up, I saw that there was a desk in front of me covered in dusty old folders. Curious, I flipped one open and held the lighter close to the words, careful not to set anything aflame.

MINER MEDICAL REPORT - - 09 JANUARY 1952

ATTENDING PHYSICIAN: DR. N.H.F. BOWEN

MEDICAL REPORT: Report follows re: the initial state of the twelve miners after the collapse of the mine, and subsequent rescue, at Blackwood Pines.

ADMITTANCE: Upon the arrival of the twelve miners at the Sanatorium's medical wing, the staff expected to ...

The document went on to detail the medical conditions of the survivors, and what the hospital's team did to care for them upon their admittance to the clinic. I skimmed the rest, pausing on the ending paragraph.

... trapped underground for over three weeks after a structural collapse at the North West Mine in December. All patients are expected to make full recoveries after extensive treatment for malnutrition and psychological trauma not otherwise specified.

A sanatorium from the 1950s? That was interesting, considering I hadn't ever heard of this building, even after researching the area online. It seemed any history of this facility had been wiped from existence.

I moved to another desk, which was more or less cleared off save for a rusty oil lantern. I lifted the glass portion and stuck my lighter underneath it, curious if it had any juice left in it. To my surprise, it lit up.

"Sweet," I muttered, putting away my lighter again. I took a minute to de-glove my hands and warm my numb, aching fingers over the light. Once some feeling had returned to my extremities, I picked up the light and continued to explore the hallowed hallways.

At one point, I jumped as I heard the unmistakable noise of a wolf howling, but then I remembered I was on a goddamn mountain in Alberta and howling wolves were to be expected. I hoped that I wouldn't encounter any predators living in this old building, but I knew a few must exist somewhere in here, so I treaded more quietly than before.

When I came to a banister that overlooked what seemed to have been a fancy lobby at one point, I was startled to see that there was a lit lantern sat on an old end table down there. Directly next to it was a cushioned chair, illuminated by a brighter, electric light sat on the floor.

Someone else was here. And clearly, they had been here for a while.

I turned to the nearest staircase, determined to investigate this new discovery. Perhaps whoever was here could point me in the right direction of my tent. But what if it's a serial murderer? part of me squeaked. My steps faltered.

Before I had a chance to change my mind, a loud voice boomed from behind me. "Don't fucking move or I shoot," it commanded.

Naturally, my head whipped around to see who had spoken, but then I remembered what was demanded of me and froze again. There was a man about ten feet away from me with a handgun trained right on my head.

"Huh? Who...?" I stuttered meekly. My expression must have been the very picture of terror, because he lowered his weapon in front of him, but still kept it at the ready. I breathed out slightly in relief.

What the hell do I say to this man? Yes? No? Help? Get away from me?!

"Who are you?" he demanded. Before I could answer, he added, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm...I lost my way," I spoke up, hoping he would accept the truth. "Me and a couple friends...we were camping by here. I went to, uh, I wandered off and then I fell in a river or something and now I'm lost and freezing and I don't know where..." During this explanation, I actually started to choke up. Get it together, I chided myself. You're not some weak-ass bitch.

Thankfully, he seemed to believe me—he even had the audacity to look relieved too. But then his gaze met mine again, and I could see the pain brewing there. "Have you...seen anyone else?"

"Just you," I answered truthfully.

He nodded to himself. "Mm-kay. Mm-kay then."

"What are you doing here?" I narrowed my eyes, suddenly as suspicious of him as he was of me. "Is this all yours?" I gestured to the lights and furniture.

"No, fuck no," he replied. "I'm about as lost as you are. It's a long story, but you should probably know there's a fucking killer running around here somewhere," he said nonchalantly.

My eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

He sighed, letting his gun hang at his side now; apparently, he no longer viewed me as a threat. "I was up here with...my girlfriend. She...she's fucking dead now." His voice caught in his throat, but he shook his head quickly and regained his composure. "Someone took her. I followed the fucker here."

"Oh." Realization dawned on me, and suddenly I judged him a lot less for his violent introduction. "So you thought that I was..."

"Yeah." He shifted his weight onto the other foot.

There was an uncomfortable silence now as we stared at each other. The more I looked him up and down, though, the more I really took in his appearance and appreciated it: broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and expressive brown eyes that pulled me in with their depth. I decided in this moment, probably rather foolishly, that I would trust this man with my life.

"What's your name?" I asked of the stranger.

He cleared his throat, forced out of his own thoughts. "Mike."

I was miffed that he didn't ask for mine in return, but I introduced myself anyway. Soon thereafter, we were enveloped in a silence that was now comfortable, a silence we felt protected by, as we made our way down the stairs and into the lobby.

"So how did you get in here?" he wondered aloud.

I gestured in the direction I'd come from. "I, uh, climbed through a window. How about you?"

Mike shrugged and pointed to our right, where there was another set of double doors that looked to be the main entrance. "Walked right in."

"Son of a bitch," I chuckled, "I didn't know it was that easy."

He laughed along too, because really, there was nothing else we could do. It was cut off, however, at the sound of another inhuman scream, this time coming from within the building. We both tensed.

"Jesus fucking chicken nuggets," Mike blurted.

"What the fuck is that?" I whispered.

"I have no clue." He paused, then added, "I've been hearing it all night."

"It could be a barn owl," I offered quietly, though I wasn't so sure of that idea anymore. Whatever was making that noise was loud—louder than some dumb owl. "They freaked me out when I was a kid."

"It's—yeah, I guess it could be." He didn't sound convinced. "Just stay close, okay?"

I nodded, and moved to cling to his arm, but quickly thought better of it and moved back. Honestly, I was scared shitless. "So do you know who the person is that's here?"

Mike shook his head as we continued to walk. "No idea. Apparently he's a long-time resident, though." He gestured toward the living room setup that was now behind us.

"Yeah, he really set up shop, didn't he?" I murmured. "What are you gonna do?"

He shrugged, and we passed through another doorway. "Not sure. Kill him, maybe. Hold him down. Beat the shit out of him. Et cetera."

I shuddered. "Sounds, uh, sounds fun."

Mike rolled his eyes at my reaction. "I'd only kill him in self-defense," he clarified, as if that made it any better.

"Like you almost killed me in self-defense?"

"I was not going to kill you!"

"That's usually a person's intention when they point a gun at my head."

"You act like that happens on the reg."

"Maybe it does. You don't know me."

He chuckled at that, and then we rounded another corner only to almost stumble into some gigantic animal. We both backed up, and after a moment I got a good look at the thing—it was a wolf. A giant goddamn white wolf that looked right back at us. Specifically, it zoned in on me and snarled, but Mike was quick to put himself in the space between me and the beast.

"Hey, hey, it's fine," he said calmly. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or the wolf, but it was slightly reassuring nonetheless. He then looked to the animal and said, "This one's with me. It's okay."

The wolf seemed to understand his words and backed down reluctantly. Mike then turned back to me and said, "Ran into him earlier. I like to call him Wolfie."

I let out a short, harsh laugh. "Very creative name."

He ignored my sarcasm and took hold of my arm, pulling me past Wolfie. A shiver ran down my spine without my permission. "Just stay close," he repeated.

Oh, I can do that.

I did not expect the wolf to follow us, and I was nervous about it at first, but he didn't seem like much of a threat as long as Mike kept him at bay. Regardless of my anxiety, Mike kept a tight grip on my arm, guiding me through the place like he lived there.

"How long have you been in here?" I asked him out of both curiosity and concern.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Being in the cabin with Jessica seems like years ago now..." He shook his head, almost as if trying to chase away the memory of his dead girlfriend.

Oh, right, I remembered. He's a fucking widower. Lay off.

Timidly, I asked, "What happened to her?"

We slowed our walking to a snail's pace before eventually stopping. "We were in the cabin, and she was standing by the window. And then this...hand...I don't know. Someone pulled her right through the fucking window. There was screaming and..." Mike took a deep breath. "And I followed her voice into this abandoned mineshaft thing. But I was too late."

I was silent as I stared at the floor. How was a person supposed to respond to something like that?

Mike seemed to read my mind. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything," he said.

I nodded, but still didn't lift my gaze. "That's...so fucked up. I'm sorry."

He patted my upper arm, which was weirdly comforting, and began walking again with me in tow. "Yeah, pretty fucked up," he agreed, his voice now cold.

I didn't say anything to that. After a few more minutes of silent walking, though, a new question occurred to me. "What did he look like?"

Mike glanced sideways at me before speaking. "I didn't get a great look at him. Big coat, hat, snow pants. The works. I think he had goggles on, though," he added with furrowed brows. "And something covering his face, like a scarf or something."

"Did he see you too?" I asked.

Mike shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Good," I murmured, though he probably couldn't hear me. "I think."

More silence, and more walking through the old building. By now we'd gone down another level, presumably into a basement of sorts, and honestly, it smelled a bit. Like...rot. And mold. Just as I was about to make an offhand comment about this, however, I jumped at some small object flying across the floor.

"Fuck," Mike said through his teeth.

When my heart stopped trying to self-detonate, I figured out that he'd kicked an old can across the room, and started to calm down. "You scared the shit out of me," I panted, throwing an arm across my chest and bending over.

"Sorry," he grunted. "I'm a little on edge."

I rolled my eyes, but not at him. "Tell me about it."

Right as I straightened up again, Mike's eyes widened and he grabbed my upper arm. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

My heartbeat sped up, both from fear and from his grip on me. "No? I wasn't really lis—"

"Shh," he cut me off, "listen..."

Now I heard it. There was a crash in the next room, and Mike drew his gun. Another scuffle, and the great wolf growled at the door to our left.

"Oh shit," I said aloud. I shouldn't have.

The same door flew open and banged hard against the wall, making my ears ring. Mike and I turned and ran in the opposite direction, through a doorway and into an unfamiliar hallway, but not before we saw a tall, white figure barrell into the room. The wolf barked loudly but followed us.

"What the fuck is that!" I yelled as we sprinted, and I could hear the creature knocking things over behind us. Then sounded the same inhuman scream as before, but this time I knew damn well it wasn't a bird.

Mike didn't answer. We both leapt over a pile of rubble beside a rusty wheelchair blocking our path, and I didn't know where we were going or what Mike's plan was, but I followed him faithfully with the wolf on my heels. Just as the thing screeched again, right behind us, Mike hooked a left and dragged me by my sheet into the new room. Wolfie bounded in after us, and suddenly the horrible face of the monster was in the doorway.

Time seemed to slow down in that moment, allowing me to briefly study its appearance. The sight was awful: its skin was a pale white color, stained with dried blood and dirt; it was tall, at least eight feet, but hunched over and scrawny, making it appear smaller than it was. When my eyes finally fell on its face, I was mortified. Its eyelids and lips had fallen off from frostbite, its teeth sharpened and elongated like an animal's, eyes unfocused and milky white.

I heard a loud shot com from behind me, forcing me back into the present, and the creature was propelled away from the door and against the opposite wall. Just in time, I lurched forward to slam the heavy metal door just as it was getting up. Mike was by my side then, pushing a metal filing cabinet in front of the door until it toppled over to create a barricade.

We both stood back then, panting, when I felt another shiver pass through me. When I wrapped my arms around myself, I only felt skin. Confused, I glanced downward only to be met with my bare chest. I looked around and spotted my torn sheet a few feet behind us, and realized Mike must have yanked it off accidentally when he dragged me into the room. I raced over to pick up my sheet and wrap it around me again, my heart still pounding in my chest.

"It's—I'm, uh, sorry," Mike stuttered, looking down and scratching the back of his head.

A furious blush colored my cheeks. "It's fine," I insisted, still out of breath. I knew I shouldn't care, considering that partial nudity was the least of my worries at the moment, but I couldn't stop myself from flushing in embarrassment.

Mike changed the subject quickly. "We need to get out of here," he announced.

"No shit," I bit, but then regretted my tone. "Um, do you see a way out?"

I saw his head turn frantically, scanning the room, before his eyes locked on a lump of rubble and broken furniture on the far side of the room. He quickly strode toward it, took a moment to examine the pile, then pointed down at it. "Here. Looks like a tunnel."

His voice was met by another screech and a furious banging outside the room, making my head snap toward the sound in alarm. By the time I looked back to Mike, all I saw was his back as he dropped down into the tunnel.

I scrambled after him, and as I got closer I could actually see the hole. It looked like a long way down, but Mike seemed fine standing at the bottom, and we didn't have time to waste. I sat at the edge of the opening and eased myself down, dropping another five feet or so when I could no longer hold on. I landed roughly on my knees, but Mike grabbed my arm and helped me up, pulling me alongside him. "I think this is the mineshaft I was in before. I didn't know it extended under the sanatorium," he said.

I looked around us, feeling that something was missing, and then I realized. "What about the wolf?"

Mike sighed, looking back up into the sanatorium, where Wolfie was standing at the edge of the hole we'd come through. "You coming, buddy?" he called. When the beast didn't move, he sighed and nodded. "He can take care of himself," he said under his breath. "Let's go."

A/N: So because the reader was in the Sanatorium with Mike, it drew the attention of a Wendigo and Mike knew about them sooner. As a result, they never left Josh tied up in the shed, so they didn't lose the key to the cable car and they all got out alive. Boom: butterfly effect.