Disclaimer: Jay, Totheark, Alex, and all that Marble Hornets jazz belongs to Troy Wagner, Joseph Delage, and Tim Sutton.

Pairings: Jay/Masky.

A/N: Written immediately after viewing Entry 62. I couldn't resist. ;D

Warning: The slash is mostly non-con (Jay is unconscious). No penetration or anything graphic).

Feedback: It makes me write more, you know.


The darkness of the forest encroached on Jay like a tidal wave that loomed but never quite fell. It was a cooler night for summer, but no breeze stirred the trees. Every inch of his skin tingled with the sensation that the darkness was pulling at him, guiding him deeper inside. This wasn't smart; no, this was the stupidest thing Jay had ever done and he knew that by now, he should have learned not to go to these places at night anymore, but this time at least he had a purpose.

And that purpose now was Tim. There was no denying it. Ultimately, he was the one responsible for Tim running off. Jay was going to bring him back to civilization and sanity, consequences be damned.

That still didn't prepare him for the sight of the Masked Man coming towards him (hadn't he just come from that direction? He hadn't even heard anyone back there.) It felt like so long since Jay had seen him (in fact, it had been more than a year, he reminded himself, ruefully). He had forgotten how much of a punch that pale face packed. The Masked Man approached, at first almost curiously. Jay tried calling out to Tim, despite the fact that he knew full well that Tim wouldn't be able to hear him or respond.

When the Masked Man gave chase, Jay reacted accordingly. His heart battered against his rib cage with fear and adrenaline. He had no idea quite how he had gotten far enough ahead of Tim to duck into a wall of vines near a tree, but he crashed into it and curled into himself while standing up, hoping beyond hope that Tim didn't have the ability to see at night. Sweat poured off his face and down his neck as he stared through the camera's night vision and watched as Tim felt his way through the night. God, but he was so close now.

The white mask was indifferent and for a moment, Jay was envious. It was like the Masked Man wasn't affected at all by the paranoia and stress of the situation or by the weeks leading up to this moment. But any thoughts Jay had were drowned out when Tim reached through the vines and grabbed the arm that held his camera.

Jay jerked away, breaking the grip, and hurtled blindly through the tree-trunks and undergrowth in his path. He only glimpsed at his camera to make sure he wasn't about to run head-long into a tree.

Car. Car. Find the car.

Yeah, that would help if he knew which direction his car was in!

He needed to stop. Needed to think. He found a tree with a thicker trunk and ran around it, shielding himself as best he could. He peered around at the trees. Trying to remember where he had come from before…

He turned, bringing his camera with him and found himself face to face with Tim (how the hell could he do that?!). Tim grabbed him, shook him, slapped at his shoulders and arms. Jay threw up his arms to protect himself but Tim forced him to the ground. Jay dropped the camera as he felt one strong arm wrap around his neck and shoulders and a hand clap over his mouth.

All thought flew out the window. He struggled out of pure survival-instinct, his legs kicking wildly and his body bucking. But Tim was stronger and he found himself being dragged backwards. His cries for help were muffled by the hand covering his mouth. It only took a moment or two before his supply of oxygen was depleted faster than it could refill and his struggles weakened. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and at last, he felt the darkness inside his head swamp him.

His last thought was I'm going to die…before nothing else seemed to matter.


Hoody picked up the camera carefully after he was sure Masky and Jay had cleared away. He allowed his audience to have one good shot of his 'face' before shutting it off and following the trail of flattened grass where Jay had been dragged.

He found the pair in the middle of a small clearing. Masky had laid Jay carefully on the ground, a gesture that was a far cry from the aggression he had displayed a moment beforehand. He was undoing the zipper of Jay's jacket. Jay's hat already lay discarded a few feet away.

Not this again. Hoody deliberately stepped on a twig, causing Masky to spring to his feet and spin around to face him.

"Give him to me, I'll take care of him," Hoody said. He normally didn't like talking while wearing his hooded face, but this wasn't a time for silence and sneaking and fucking around. They were in Rosswood, the belly of the beast, for Christ-sakes!

Masky glanced between Hoody and Jay. His hands curled into fists and he shook his head. Hoody was close to sighing in exasperation.

"I don't care how long it's been, damn it. You can't keep him out in the open like this. Bring him to the shack, like we agreed, then you can do whatever you fucking want," Hoody said.

The darkness around them had focused on them. Oh yes, something was here all right, and watching them closely. It was letting them have their prize out of a keen sense of generosity. Also, not gutting them right there was generous too. Very much so, in fact.

It was still too early in the game for all the pieces to be knocked over, however. Hoody stuffed the camera into his jacket pocket, brushed passed Masky, knelt, and grasped Jay underneath his shoulders. He looked at Masky as if to say, "You helping, or not?"

Masky hesitated and then took Jay's legs. Together, they hoisted Jay off the ground and guided him through the trees and to the wooden shack. It took them an hour, maybe, not so much because they were struggling under Jay's weight (if anything, he was light as a feather between them and their slightly better-than-human strength), but because they had quite the distance to traverse.

When they did reach the shack, the sky was beginning to lighten justslightly, the stars losing some of their luster. Hoody kicked away some of the debris around the hole in the wall and crawled inside first. He and Masky carefully maneuvered Jay between them until he was inside and only little the worse for wear.

Hoody relaxed once the task was done. He knew full well why the shack afforded them protection against the darkness and he was grateful for it. At least, Jay would be safe until he woke back up and could find the box of tapes waiting for him outside. By now, Hoody was halfway tempted to just tell him everything, but certain times called for particular measures. These things had to be handled delicately, not rushed.

While he pondered all of this, Masky was busy stripping Jay of his jacket and shirt. Oh for god's sake.

"Just hide your mask when you're done and the other one takes over, all right?" Hoody said, stepping away. "And put Jay's hat back on. He can't know anything about this."

Masky grunted impatiently and gave Hoody a "shoo" gesture. Hoody didn't believe Masky would ever hurt Jay. Whatever he did to Jay while he was unconscious would be harmless, a little groping, possibly some fondling, but nothing that Jay would feel when he woke up (apart from some stickiness, if Masky didn't clean him up afterwards. Sometimes Hoody underestimated the extent to which Masky was obsessed with Jay.

He ducked through the hole and winced when the darkness closed back over him. He would come back and set up the camera later. Right now, he had to ensure that that rat-bastard Kralie wasn't going to be pulling any tricks with the tapes.


Jay came to with a headache and a crink in his neck from sleeping in a sitting position with his head slumped over. He blinked against the brightness of the sun shining into the flimsy wooden structure around him and stood up slowly. He brushed himself off absentmindedly, pausing with a little confusion over a sticky spot on the jeans covering the inside of his thighs. Must have been tree sap from one of the trees he had run into while running from the Masked Man. He still couldn't believe Tim would attack him like that!

It was with the utmost surprise that he found Tim outside, lying with his face planted into the dirt. Jay approached cautiously, especially when Tim stirred. Jay peered at his face, but it didn't look like he was wearing the mask anymore.

When Tim collected himself and looked back at him with distrust and loathing, Jay wasn't quite sure what to feel. More distrust? Relief? Confusion? Anger? Through the haze that rivaled a hangover in intensity, he and Tim swapped words, trying to figure out where they were and what they were doing there, but it looked as though Tim didn't have any better an idea that Jay did.

For a moment, Jay watched as Tim peered into the shack and then propelled himself away with…revulsion? Did Tim know what that shack was? Jay followed him to a worn pair of tire tracks that had been plowed through the grass. Tim was clutching his head, possibly to keep away the pain…or bad memories.

"The…the camera was just in front of me," Jay said. He wondered if it would hold answers to last night, perhaps show him who had taken him to the shack and why. "I woke up…"

"Still workin'?" was Tim's reply. He met Jay's eyes through a sideways glance.

Jay swallowed and nodded. Knowing that they still had a ways to go before they were anywhere near on good terms with each other again. "Yeah…but…the battery's almost dead…"