Marble Hornets, yay! :DD So, this is basically just my theory on "Masky", Tim's persona. I hope it makes sense to everyone; I tried explaining it as best as I could. ;-;

Warnings: Language and angst. D: Also, this was written under the assumption that Hoody is a male character, and both Hoody and Masky work for the Operator, so if you don't like that, I'm sorry, but this is not the fic for you.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I really owned Marble Hornets, I would be eating cheesecake with Masky and Hoody while Slenderman baked cookies in the kitchen, not writing fanfic.

"Make them go away! Please! Please, please make them go away!"

Loud and shaky sobs erupted from the corner of the pristine white room. A young boy, no more than nine, sat crouched there, head in his hands. His stormy blue eyes were stretched wide and darting back and forth to look around the small space, fearful of what he would find. He just wanted them to go away, all of them, just gone. He wanted Mommy, wanted Daddy, but he knew they would never come. They had been the ones to put him here, trapping him with all of the monsters.

'Sweetie, these men are going to get rid of the monsters. I promise. Mommy loves you.'

Timothy sat back against the wall behind him, choking back another painful sob, burying his head in his knees and pulling his legs up as far as they would go. Timid, but with a terrified and morbid sense of curiosity, he risked a glance at the opposite corner of the room. Confirming his suspicions, he quickly looked back down.

The same man was there, excessively tall and far too thin and bony to be human. The figure was dressed in a crisp ebony business suit, free of imperfections, with a scarlet tie neatly set around its neck. It simply stood there, unnaturally long arms folded almost politely behind its back, and watched him cower in the corner. Maybe it wasn't watching him; it was hard to tell when the figure completely lack any facial features whatsoever, and instead simply had a stretch of abnormally pale skin where it's – or his? – face should have been.

Even without eyes, the feeling of the man staring at him made Tim want run away. But there was nowhere to go; just the walls of the hospital room. A small whimper escaped him, and tears collected in his eyes. The other monsters had retreated to the shadows now, leaving him be, but only because he was there, a silent, commanding presence, and he was worse than the rest of the creatures combined. He didn't appear often, but when he did, he just stood there, staring, opposite of Tim himself, sucking any comfort from the room and giving the boy a crushing headache.

"LET ME OUT!"

This time it was an order rather than a plea, a loud scream ripping free of his vocal cords, each syllable punctuated with need. He scratched at the walls desperately, his chewed-down nails doing nothing to the material at all. He pounded at the walls, screamed, sobbed, anything to get out. By now it had become something of an act; if he continued long enough one of the doctors would come and give him the medicine, and then the creatures would disappear. Then he could sleep, and get away from all the monsters that hid in the shadows.

But now he was starting to get worried, as no orderlies were coming to give him the medicine, and he'd been acting up for longer than it usually took to get it. A part of him began to panic as he frantically glanced at the man in the corner.

Still standing, still staring, like he was waiting for something.

Tim collapsed back against the wall, shutting his eyes tightly. It would be fine. They would come. They always did. Then, maybe, he could sleep, and maybe the man wouldn't show up in his nightmares.

Another hour passed, and whatever little hope the boy had left for getting his medication was dashed. What happened? Where were the doctors with the magical pills that allowed him to escape all the demons? His breathing became shallow and rapid as reality set in; tonight, he'd be alone with all of them, even the Tall Man.

And they were waiting for him too, waiting for him to move so they could claw at his arms and legs and fight over who got to keep him. Waiting to sink razor teeth into his skin, to pull at his hair and clothes. The thought filled him with cold dread. He grabbed two fistfuls of dark hair and pulled, trying to physically yank the monsters of his head.

"Get out, get out, get out, get OUT!" he shrieked uncontrollably, drowning in hysterics. "Leave me ALONE!"

The boy's frantic cries slowly ebbed away as he felt another stare boring down on him. He stiffened, but instead of burying his face in his hands to hide, he looked up.

And met the gaze of a mask.

He yelped and attempted to scramble backwards, but his retreat was abruptly ended by the wall behind him. Fear slowly spread its icy tendrils throughout his body, paralyzing him. Instead of trying to get him, like all of the others, however, this new entity simply crouched in front of him, watching his reaction. Confusion blossomed underneath the crippling terror. Was this even another monster, or was it a real person?

Upon closer inspection, the 'person' turned out to be a boy his age, with equally dark hair cut in the same unruly style. It – or more likely, he – sat in front of Timothy without a word and looked at him. Unlike the Tall Man, his gaze filled him with a sort of gentle warmth. Not happiness exactly, but certainly nothing like the sickening, sinister feeling he got from the shadow-swathed figure that practically lived in the opposite corner of the room. Seeing that harm was not this one's intent, he decided to look back at the figure himself. He could tell that the other was wearing a mask, but it was impossible to see his eyes, hidden as they were behind the black circles representing eyes.

The figure's persona almost reminded him of his mother, with its lips painted a funny color. Only, he had never seen his mother paint her lips black before. The mask kind of held an overall look akin to that of a clown, black and white, with the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of the mouth. Funnier still were the small eyebrows that were arched dramatically over the eyes. It couldn't have been another person, surely. He'd never seen anyone wear masks like that before, and even if he had, why would the person choose to wear it in front of him?

Even with the slightly amusing look of the façade, Tim did not smile. It didn't matter if this figure wasn't hostile; the one just a few yards behind him was. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a stinging sense of concern, though it didn't belong to him. His masked companion turned to look at the man in the corner before Tim could warn him not to. There was a long moment in which the two seemed to watch one another before both tilted their head in unison, as if they were confused. The other boy was the one to break the stare and turned back to Timothy once more, seemingly unconcerned with the well-dressed entity behind him. Once more the boy felt the ghost of an emotion at the back of his mind, this time a calm, loving sort of sense, but once again, he knew it didn't belong to him.

The rest of the night passed without incidence. The growls and chitters of the monsters in the shadows faded away until they were virtually nonexistent, leaving Tim with the Tall Man and the other boy in the mask. He never did speak. He simply sat watching Tim, almost as if he were protecting him. Eventually his calming gaze allowed the ever-terrified boy to drift into the world of sleep, even with the persistent stare of the figure in corner still bearing down on him.

When he awoke from his unusually peaceful slumber the demons were nowhere to be found, and both the man and the masked boy had disappeared with them.

The foreign presence that had been lingering in the back of his consciousness, however, had not.

Tim shot up in his bed, jolted into awareness by his…dream? Would that be the right word for it? It felt more like…living through a memory a second time, but in a dream. It sure as Hell felt real though, like he was trapped in that damn hospital all over again. His heart was pounding against his chest and his cheeks were coated in dried tears.

'A boy his age, with equally dark hair cut in the same unruly style.'

Fucking nightmares, he thought irritably, getting up and moving to his bathroom. Turning on the sink, he splashed crisp, cold water onto his face one, two, three times before moving back into his bedroom and collapsing back onto his stiff bed. The man glanced at the clock: 3:30 a.m. So much for actually getting any sleep tonight. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the "dream" out of his head.

'Unlike the Tall Man, his gaze filled him with a sort of gentle warmth.'

Like he had told Jay, he hadn't remembered much from his time in that hospital. The medication he had been constantly taking back then made all of the memories from that time hazy and unclear. But that dream, the boy in the mask…why did it seem so familiar, as if it had actually happened? Could it be that the boy had actually been one of his many delusions or…?

'The mask kind of held an overall look akin to that of a clown, black and white, with the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of the mouth.'

That was when his eyes locked on the mask. Hanging on his closet doorknob, the neatly painted mouth curled upward in the very slightest of smirks, the black circles surrounding the invisible eyeholes looking like dark crevices. Tim was paralyzed by the sight of it. He'd gotten rid of it! He'd destroyed it, burned it for fuck's sake! How was it back here, looking exactly as it had before? There was no way that mask was a replica. No, it was too exact, too much like the other one to have been a replacement. Terror gripped his heart like a vice when he remembered the footage of the hooded man in his house. Was he here now? Had he brought the mask, taunting him, trying to pull him back?

'Even with the slightly amusing look of the façade…'

He fumbled to open his nightstand, searching for his pill bottle with trembling hands. A loud sigh of relief escaped him as he spotted the blessed orange container and quickly swallowed two of the small capsules. Boisterous objection blossomed at the back of his mind, but it was quickly quelled by the medication. Fuck that mask. Just seeing the damned thing made his other side go nuts.

'Tim did not smile.'

He flopped back onto his pillows, utterly exhausted, but too anxious to go to sleep. That damned mask…it matched the one the boy in the dream wore. And if that had been a memory, and not just a dream…

'His masked companion turned to look at the man in the corner, and the two seemed to watch one another for a long moment before both tilted their head in unison.'

Let's see, let's see…dissociative identity disorder is a mental reaction to traumatic situations, right? he reasoned himself. So, if whatever was wrong with me as a kid really was a severe case of schizophrenia… Sudden realization bloomed inside of him. What if, as a response to his nightmarish hallucinations, his mind had formed a second, more apathetic identity, one that would be able to cope with the demons? It would explain why his masked persona didn't fear "The Operator" whatsoever, and instead seemed to almost assist him. And if the identically-masked boy from his "dream" was some kind of delusion, some kind of personification, his other half had forced him to see...

'He turned back, seemingly unconcerned with the well-dressed entity behind him.'

Now he remembered: the other boy had been one of his hallucinations. He never talked, never even moved, really, but instead just sat there. Whenever he appeared not only did it dispel the monsters and calm Tim, but the Tall Man would also seemed to be pacified by his presence, sometimes disappearing entirely.

'The growls and chitters of the monsters in the shadows faded away until they were virtually nonexistent.'

Was his other half trying to show him that he'd been there with him the entire time?

'Almost as if he were protecting him.'

He sat up and forced himself to get off the bed, walking over to the façade and taking into his hands. Several long seconds passed in which Tim simply looked the object in his hands. How could something so insignificant affect so much?

'Once more the boy felt the ghost of an emotion at the back of his mind, this time a calm, loving sort of sense, but once again, he knew it didn't belong to him.'

His ever-present frown deepened into a scowl. This thing had ruined him. He had just started living a normal life, just started getting better, when…everything had happened. And this thing was part of it.

'When he awoke from his unusually peaceful slumber the demons were nowhere to be found…'

He clutched the mask tightly in one hand, zipping up his jacket with the other. The sharp, cold breeze bit at his eyes as he walked outside into the autumn night. Taking just a moment for one last glance at the wretched object in his possession, he pulled he arm back and hurled the object into the woods. Burning it hadn't worked - maybe giving it back would. "Take the fucking mask and go fuck yourself!" he shouted at no one in particular before turning to leave. He trudged back inside, ready for yet another sleepless night, but with a bittersweet sense of liberation. What the man had failed to notice was the hooded figure hidden at the edge of the forest, watching his every move, waiting.

'And both the man and the masked boy had disappeared with them.'

Gingerly, the figure picked up the mask, brushing off bits of leaves and dirt before placing it in his hoodie's front pocket. He looked up to watch as Tim slammed the door to his house shut, probably locking it firmly. A grimace formed on the face behind the hooded figure's own guise. The Operator would not be pleased with this development, and Hoody needed his masked partner back. Soon. He silently picked up the camera lying by his feet and headed off into the woods. No matter. He could always try again. Next time, he'd make sure those damn pills were gone before he attempted to return his colleague's identity.

'The foreign presence that had been lingering in the back of his consciousness, however…'

After all, Timothy could only restrain him for so long.

'Had not.'