A/N: This one-shot is merely my idea of what happens to Tim after the end of Marble Hornets.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They all belong to their respective creators.
Brown eyes flashed open swiftly and began to scan the surroundings. A hand reached for the pocket of a blue jeans, slightly stained with blood, but did not find whatever it wanted.
A dry, cracked voice echoed throughout the dark place. "Where the hell am I?"
The man, who was of middle height and stature, pushed himself off of the floor and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he was able to see his surroundings. It appeared to be some sort of old building that had long been forgotten by the rest of the world, as the roof seemed to be leaking, the paint was peeling off of the walls and the floor was covered in rubble.
The man sighed and merely reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and he proceeded to light it up. His demeanor was far too calm for someone who had woken up and had no idea where they were. It was obviously not the first time. It had stopped for a while, but for some reason, it had begun again... Even though he had moved away and sworn to forget all about his past, it still seemed to haunt him. Even his medication no longer helped and he had all but given up on any kind of treatment to cure his problem. As the man smoked, he looked around and frowned. All that surrounded the building was a dark, intimidating forest that he had no desire to get lost in. He would have to stay until morning.
He tried to figure out how he had gotten to his current location, but he could not remember anything. The last thing he was able to remember was going to bed and then... Nothing.
"Tim." A voice suddenly called from the dark and he jumped up, ready to attack. He looked around frantically, but there was no one in sight. Was he just imagining things?
Tim looked to a wall on the right and his eyes widened as he saw four words written in black. He is a Liar. Underneath those words lay a white mask, with black outlines around the eyes and mouth. He ran to the mask and picked it up, glaring at it. How many times hadn't he tried to dispose of it already?
A voice laughed softly. "You know it's futile, Tim. Why do you deny what the Master has to offer?"
"Shut up and show yourself!" Tim screamed in anger as his grip tightened on the mask. How he wished that he could smash it into pieces, but for some reason he could never do so. His glare intensified and it seemed that the mask appeared to be smirking back at him- which was impossible... right?
"Masky, are you alright?" A separate, deeper voice rang out of the shadows and a hooded figure appeared from behind the corner of one of the dilapidated walls.
Tim's eyes went wide as he recognized that mustard-colored hoodie anywhere and he nearly dropped his cigarette as he stepped back. "What the hell... No... You're dead..." Words formed within his throat, but he choked on them. He's dead, he thought, I killed him...
The hooded figure's expression was concealed by his strange mask, but as soon as he saw the mask in Tim's hand, he seemed to stare at the other man more intently. "I see. It seems you have gained some control for the moment, Tim." The man pulled his own mask off and frowned.
"Brian, what the hell is going on?" Tim said, almost frantically, as his head started to ache.
"Master still has a use for me, so he brought me back. He still has a use for you as well, Tim. Put your mask back on so we can...return." Brian said swiftly and watched his partner look up at him.
"Master? Brian, that thing ruined your life! It's the reason that so many people are dead, it's controlling you! Why are you letting-"
"It could have left me dead, at the bottom of that balcony, just like you did but it didn't!" Brian yelled and frowned as he saw guilt cloud his partner's eyes. "I didn't mean... I'm not angry at you, Tim. But Master brought me back... I have nobody to go back to. My house has probably been sold, I don't have a job... and besides, he'd just come after me again so what use is there in running?"
"But...all their deaths...to stop this thing... It would've all been for nothing! Jay died trying to help me!" Tim screamed and Brian seemed to glare at him.
"And what the hell have you been doing since then, Tim? Smoking, taking medication like an addict to help you sleep at night so you can forget the guilt, barely surviving because of your self-loathing... You're not living, Tim. You're existing, which is no better than what I am doing."
Tim looked down at the mask and frowned. Brian was right... He was merely existing. He never spoke to anyone, hardly smiled or laughed... All he did was go to work and then return home, only to waste away with that empty feeling of loneliness. If he gave in, he'd at least have a purpose... and he'd have Brian, one of his only friends.
"I don't want to be alone anymore." Tim's voice cracked and he could feel his eyes stinging with tears. He did not want to cry, to break down in front of Brian or that thing, if it was watching...but he was so tired, so miserable, so lonely.
Brian placed a gloved hand on his partner's shoulder. "Tim, if you choose to continue this life that you are living, you will always be alone. It's because of your kindness that you do not want to let anyone be close to you and it's understandable. Master still has a use for you, so he still calls upon you. There is no guarantee that, if you resist, he won't continue to pursue you...or try to eliminate you. Or get one of the others to do it..."
"There are others?" Tim looked slightly confused. "We weren't the only ones it took?"
"Yes, there are others. You can meet them as well. If you want..." Brian seemed to almost be pleading. He really did not want anything bad to happen to Tim, and he hated seeing him so broken.
Deep in his heart, Tim felt like a traitor as he picked up the mask and stared at it. He finally realized where that other voice had come from. It had been his other persona, this "Masky" that Brian had referred to, taunting him so it could continue serving its Master. His heart ached as he remembered the image of Jay, clutching his side as he lay dead on scattered pages with those four words that Tim loathed: He is a Liar.
Tim got up and placed on the mask again. He felt himself slipping from conciousness as he stared at Brian. A tear slipped down his cheek as four words echoed in his mind.
"I'm so sorry, Jay."