I knew the release of Whistleblower would ruin this story's already little credibility. Oh well, this was already kind of an AU anyway. Let's all just pretend that there wasn't a two month gap between this chapter and the last one . . . Okay? Good! And let's also pretend it has been at least two days since the asylum went to hell, even though apparently it had only been like 17 or so hours (since Waylon was freed and up until he met the Groom, and then the additional 12 hours spent in the locker). Oh, and apparently this won't be the last chapter, like I had planned in my outline. Unless something else happens, the next chapter will be the last, and then there will also be an epilogue released at the same time along with it ;)

I do not own Mount Massive Asylum or Dr. Trager. They belong to Red Barrels. I do, however, own Simon and Sebastian. Enjoy!

Sebastian burst through the door before hastily making a right turn down the hallway. The doctor would be on him soon if he didn't get the hell out of sight. From the scant amount of time he had to view the hallway he had just entered, he saw that it was blocked off at the end.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he hissed under his breath, and he ran into the first room he saw. He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Breathing heavily, he backed away from the door until his back was pressed against something hard. A wall, he realized. It took his panicked mind a moment to notice the sinks and lockers.

A locker room.

He slinked around the wall and was faced with several bathroom stalls. Without thought, he rushed into the nearest stall and closed the door. He made a move to turn the lock on it, when he realized there was not one there.

"Christ . . ." he muttered, before hunkering down in the back of the stall. The stall he was in contained not a toilet, Sebastian realized, but a shower. In a weird, twisted way, Sebastian found some solace with the knowledge that he wouldn't die in the shitter.

That small amount of mirth dissipated at the sound of the rusty hinges of the locker room door creaking. Sebastian pressed himself into the back corner as much as he could, as if making himself smaller would somehow keep him safe. It came to his attention that something hard was pressing into his lower back, near his hip. His hand shot to his hip as he glanced down. He couldn't make out the object in the darkness, but it didn't take long for him to deduce what the cylindrical object was.

The flashlight, the one he and Simon had used down in the sewers, had been wedged in between his hip and the elastic on his pants, completely forgotten in his panic. He grabbed it by the handle and pressed it close to his chest as he strained his ears to listen for the doctor. The sonuvabitch was light on his feet, that was for sure. Sebastian had no idea where Trager was, or if he was still even in the room.

The sound of a locker opening could be heard.

"Where are you hiding, you little . . ?" Sebastian heard the doctor murmur. The locker door slammed, and a second later another one opened. This went on several more times, each one sounding closer to Sebastian's stall.

Sebastian's heart was beating out of his chest, and he could feel the weakness in his legs become more and more obvious. His grip on the flashlight tightened.

As soon as that door opens . . . I ain't goin' down like this. Not here. Not by this asshole.

Just then, he heard a stall door—the one next to his?—open. Sebastian peeked under the stall wall to his right and saw that the doctor was standing in the stall two down from him. His heart sank when he saw the doctor exit that stall and walk over and into the one next to his. He thought about making a run for it now, but his body would not cooperate. By the time he managed to shift his position, the doctor was already moving again.

I ain't goin' down this easy. I won't! he chanted over and over in his head like a mantra. The doctor's bare feet could be seen from under the stall door now, and Sebastian could hear breathing on the other side.

He stood up, raising his flashlight to an offensive position. As soon as that door opened . . .

Trager loomed outside the stall door. The man had to be in this room; he saw him run into this hall with his own eyes! To his knowledge, the other doors in this hallway were either blocked or locked.

There was nowhere else he could have gone.

Trager raised the shears as he moved to open the door.

"Free! I'm free!" came a shrill cry of rejoice from somewhere else on the floor.

Trager turned around. "What the fuck's going on now?" he growled exasperatedly. He was about to turn back to the stall door, figuring he might as well kill the intruder off before investigating, when suddenly the door burst open, knocking him forward and into the set of lockers.

Before he could even see it coming, something hard collided with the side of his face. The lenses of his glasses shattered and fell to the floor, and with a grunt of pain, so did Trager.

"Take that, ya sick fucker!" Sebastian gloated as he made a run for the door.

Trager recovered fairly quickly from the attack and grabbed a hold of his shears. He then blindly lunged towards where he assumed Sebastian was, swinging the weapon. He could feel the blade connect with flesh, and heard a startled cry from his prey.

Sebastian jerked away from his attacker, attempting to run around the lockers and out the door, but found that his left foot, the one that had been hit, was now useless. He nearly fell to the floor as he hobbled towards the door. From behind him, the doctor was struggling to get up. It would only be a matter of seconds for him to begin the chase, and Sebastian planned to be long gone by then.

The now-crippled man limped as fast as he could down the hall. The first door he came to was boarded up, and the next one was locked. Just as he was about to give up hope on survival, he saw an open vent out of the corner of his eye.

Immediately Sebastian scrambled on top of a bed directly underneath the vent's opening and, with a grunt, hoisted himself up inside.

Simon had managed to release another patient, who was extremely grateful, to his dismay. The patient had run out the door shouting to the heavens that he was free. So far, Simon had managed to get two more men free from their binds. He cursed his almost useless hand, and the lunatic who had probably alerted the doctor. Ashamedly, Simon considered running out after him and leaving this god-forsaken place. But something nagged at him to stay and finish what he came here to do.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Simon's mind replayed the conversation Sebastian had with him down in the sewers.

"Let's face it, there's no way any of us is getttin' outta here . . . Hell, we're going to save people who are just gonna end up dead anyways."

Simon was beginning to really consider the meaning behind his words. His logical side was battling with his moral side. Logically, he should be thinking of his own survival at the cost of others. And, logically, he knew that morals meant next to nothing when it came to life and death situations, and this was definitely that kind of situation.

Most of these men were injured, and all of them were tied down. He was not. It would be so easy—to just run and find somewhere safe until some form of help arrived. He, along with Sebastian, could even find a way to escape.

Sebastian. Where was he?

It was then that Simon realized that it was not the patients, and his moral obligation to them, that was keeping him from outright running. It was because he did not want to leave his friend—and yes, he considered Sebastian the closest thing to a friend than anyone else in the asylum. As sickening as this revelation was, Simon had come to terms with it. In the short time he had known the other man, Simon had formed a bond with him that one would not think possible under such circumstances. Sebastian was probably the only person—ironically after their little scuffle in the sewers—that didn't want to outright harm him. That was a rarity in a place like this.

As much as it pained him, Simon made the decision to stop releasing the patients. He stood up straight, and began to think of what exactly his next course of action would be. Should he start by looking around the next hallway? That seemed to be the most likely place the other man would have gone. Simon cautiously walked toward the door and, hearing nothing, stepped out into the hall.

Once he was settled safely inside the cramped ventilation shaft, Sebastian took a moment to catch his breath and observe the damage done to his leg. He grimaced as he shifted it closer to him. He could hardly move anything below the calf of his left leg. Warm blood, sticky and damp against his pant leg did not help the tension he was feeling. Those damned shears must have sliced right through his Achilles tendon. He would not be able to handle another chase; not with this debilitating of an injury.

Sebastian brought his head back to rest against the side of the vent and let out a sigh. After a few minutes of waiting in silent agony, he decided to move on down to see where the vent dropped off.

With a grunt, Sebastian shifted and began to crawl.

Simon slinked down the small hallway that joined the two main halls of this wing. Currently, he was heading to a small office. The entrance to the other hallway had been blocked off by a bunch of metal bed frames for some unfathomable reason, but the small office had a window that he could climb through to reach the second hall.

In all honesty, he had no idea where Sebastian was. When he had left the room upon being seen by Trager, Simon saw the mad doctor take a left down the hall, which meant that Sebastian must have ran through the double doors at the end of the hallway. By going through the office, Simon hoped that he would slim down the chances of being spotted by Trager.

He entered into the office, closing the door behind him. The only sound to be heard was the dial tone of a disconnected phone. A small key hung on the wall under a plaque that read "Elevator." Simon briefly thought about taking it, but decided that the easiest way out would be the way he and Sebastian came in. He made his way through the paper-strewn office and hesitantly peeked out the window. The door at the end of the hall had been boarded up, and the other end was blocked off by beds. The only way the doctor could sneak up on him was if he came from behind.

Unless he's already in here, Simon thought anxiously. That dark thought led to even darker thoughts, to which Simon pushed away from his mind. He would check this place out for his comrade. He owed him at least that much for saving his life.

Simon jumped through the window and into the hall. With a short glance behind him, he walked over to the closed double doors and slowly opened one of them. Through the small crack, he scanned the dark and seemingly empty room. With a deep breath, he opened the door all the way and stepped in. The only light in the room came from the rain-spattered windows in the back. He could make out the dark figures of beds throughout the large room.

"S-Sebastian?" Simon called weakly. No response came. He stalked further into the room. There was no sound, no movement of any sort. His mind began bringing up the negative thoughts he had been repressing up until this point.

"Oh no . . ." Simon said in a whisper. His body began to shake as he thought of his only friend, dead somewhere, murdered by the hands of a madman.

He began to panic. His breaths were coming out in large gasps, and he had to lean against the wall as he placed a shaky hand on his heaving chest. His eyes darted around the dark room. Never before had Simon felt so alone. Ever so slowly, the overwhelming fear and sadness was replaced by a growing anger. He had quite possibly lost the only shred of light, of hope, in this whole damned asylum! And not only was he taken away by some no-name brute, but by a man—a monster—that had tormented Simon for days!

So many emotions were going through the poor man's head; he was beginning to feel ill. His darting eyes landed on a door to his left, one that appeared to not be blocked. Probably a bathroom, Simon managed to register through the mass of swarming thoughts going on in his head. Absentmindedly, his numbed legs carried him over to the door. He fumbled with the knob and jerked the door open.

Coming in with the intention of . . . what, exactly? Simon was unsure. But before he could bring himself to the other door that led into the bathroom, the little breath he had in his lungs had been knocked out of him when his body crashed to the floor. Simon struggled to breathe, but a weight on his back kept him pinned against the wooden floor.

Damn it all! Of all the times to—

"Simon?" came an incredulous, but familiar, tone from above. Suddenly, the weight was lifted and Simon took in a lungful of air as he pushed himself up from the floor. He stood, placing his hand against the wall and gripping his pained chest, his mind trying to comprehend what exactly had just happened.

"Shit, man! I thought you were Trager!" came the voice again. Simon jerked his head to the right to see Sebastian leaning against the doorframe.

Sebastian. Sebastian!

"Yo-You're alive," Simon stated, almost as if it were a question.

"Hell man, I haven't been alive for a long time. But I still got a pulse and I'm still breathin' if that counts," Sebastian replied. "I hid up in that vent. When I saw you comin', I thought ya were the doctor. Sorry," he added, a bit sheepishly.

Sebastian was thrown back against the wall as the other man practically threw himself at him. "I thought you were dead!" exclaimed Simon. "I saw him chase you, and I thought for sure . . ." he trailed off.

Sebastian pushed Simon off of him and patted the front of his shirt. "Takes more than a scrawny, two-bit doctor to do me in," said Sebastian. "But he did manage to knick me in the ankle." Both men stared down at Sebastian's ankle.

Simon couldn't really make it out in the darkness, but he asked regardless, "How bad?"

There was an uneasy pause.

"Bad."

Simon frowned in response.

"Simon, I can't hardly walk.

"Oh . . ." Simon was at a loss for words. If Sebastian could hardly walk, how the hell were they both going to make it out? Trager would be on high alert by this point.

"Does that vent go any further?" he asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "Nope. It drops off here."

"Damn."

"This room doesn't lead anywhere, I'm guessin'?" asked Sebastian.

"Just out to an office. We can get back to the hall we entered in originally, but I doubt it will be a walk in the park."

Both men sighed. Sebastian tilted his head down and crossed both his arms.

"Simon."

"Yes?" Simon was staring concernedly at the man in front of him.

There was another short pause. "Look, let's just address the elephant in the room."

Simon did not like where this was going.

Sebastian raised his head, leveling his gaze at Simon, and continued. "With my leg as fucked as it is, I ain't going nowhere."

"Don't," Simon quickly said, shaking his head. "Don't you give up on me now. You can't! I . . ." Simon was struggling to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"Look, Simon. I'm just sayin', if the doctor finds us, I'm willing to put myself in the line of fire. You have a shot. I don't," said Sebastian, his voice level.

Simon kept shaking his head, but said nothing. They both knew that he was right. It made sense, logically, Simon thought bitterly, that he should run while Sebastian stayed behind to fend off the doctor.

Silence hung between them for what felt like several minutes. Instead of fighting the issue, like Sebastian thought he would, Simon solemnly said, "I can't do this without you."

"You have to. It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice on my part if we both end up dead," Sebastian stated bluntly.

Simon's eyes were fixed on the floor between them. His mind was once again brewing with angry thoughts about how unfair this whole situation was, and sad thoughts about possibly losing a friend. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," Sebastian began, his voice unusually calming. Simon almost expected a sappy, inspirational speech to come out of the man's mouth at any moment.

"Stop actin' like a goddamned pansy-ass," he growled.

Well, of course the sappy, inspirational speech would be too cliché for someone like Sebastian.

"Man the fuck up. I need ya to be ready and alert incase ol' fuckface shows up. And more importantly, I need ya to be prepared for the worst. No copping out and offering yerself up like a goddamned buttered lobster, you hear me?" ordered the bigger man.

Simon was momentarily stunned into silence. Sebastian didn't even wait for him to collect himself before the man was limping out the door.

"C'mon. We ain't makin' progress pissing around here," he hissed.

Knowing that the prideful asshole would not take no for an answer, Simon reluctantly followed him to the double doors.

So, who's still riding the Trager Train? Or has everybody gotten off and boarded the Eddie Express? *le sigh* I'd hate to say it, but . . . Eddie has probably replaced Trager as the scariest villain in the eyes of many Outlast fans. Which is okay—he's an awesome antagonist who deserves all the love he's getting. I just hope his debut hasn't left Trager in the dust. Anyways, I plan on posting the last chapter soonish, along with the epilogue. Fingers crossed!