To Ark fan:

I'm so flattered that you asked me to help finish that other Marble Hornets/Slenderman story, that means a lot to me! However, I must unfortunately decline the offer. I have not seen either EverymanHYBRID or Tribe Twelve, and I think I'm just going to focus on working on "Resuscitate." But if I hear of any other fellow authors who might be interested, I'll send them your way! :) Thanks again.

/

/

"Jay?" Tim is shouting the name before he even has pulled the key card out of the room's door handle. "Jay!" He swings the door open, panic driving every movement. The room is dim, and quiet.

A sitting on his bed, looking slightly surprised, is Jay. Tim stumbles to a stop, staring. His terror slowly ebbs away, fading into exhausted relief. Jay looks perfectly fine; he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, granola bar wrappers strewn about him, with Tim's laptop pushed to the end of the bed.

"Tim, you alright?" Jay asks, concern in his eyes.

Tim takes a few deep breaths. He's okay. He's okay. It's not here. It hasn't got him. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Tim rubs a hand across his face, trying to calm his heart's frantic pounding. Jay's still looking at Tim anxiously, and now that the panic has gone, Tim notices Jay's face – his eyes specifically. They're red around the edges, and slightly puffy. He had been crying.

The entries. Right. Tim taps the hotel keycard against his leg uncomfortably. "Hey, um…you okay? Did you finish watching…" he lets the question trail off as Jay's expression changes from concerned to something resembling a rather somber look.

Jay glances away. "Yeah. I finished them." He looks back at Tim; his eyes are so pained Tim feels as though someone had punched him in the gut. "Tim…" Jay's voice is small, broken. "I…I don't remember much else than what's on those videos. And even then, those memories don't feel like they're my memories. It's like they're clips of a movie – events that I watched happen, and know happened, but I didn't experience myself. Well…there are snippets here and there, of random, real memories besides the entries, but they're so hazy and I have no idea where they fit into everything." He pauses for the slightest of seconds. "And I don't remember anything that's happened between when…after Alex…after Entry 80, and yesterday. I swear it."

Damn. Well, what was Tim expecting? For the videos to magically trigger just the right button in Jay's brain, activating everything and putting everything back to normal? The empty hopelessness within Tim seems bigger than ever before. "I believe you," Tim says, his voice tired.

"But…" Jay's continues. His voice has suddenly dropped its depressed tone, exchanged for one much stronger, almost vehement. He gets off of the bed, standing before Tim. "I just…I want to – to thank you."

Tim looks at Jay with surprise.

Jay's eyes are fierce, sparking with an intense sincerity, as they hold Tim's gaze. As though this is the most important thing he's ever going to say, and it's vital that Tim hears it. "Thank you. For everything you've done for me."

Don't thank me, Jay. Nothing I've done warrants thanking. "You mean how I attacked you multiple times, tied you up, and left you to get shot?"

"Well, those things kinda sucked. But, everything else though. And how you kept going, even after…I wasn't there. And coming back for me, years later."

Tim has never felt so uncomfortable before. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to be thanked – he deserves the fate Alex had tried to give him. If it weren't for him, Jay wouldn't be here having to thank Tim. He'd be off somewhere living a normal life, probably trying to find some kind of odd job with his film degree. Tim rubs a hand across his eyes. "Jay –"

"No, don't, Tim," Jay interrupts. "I don't want to hear it. I know what you're going to say. If watching videos taught me one thing, it's how good of a person you are, and how wrong you are in your opinion of yourself. Regardless of whatever the source of that thing is, blaming yourself isn't going to fix anything. You walk around with that guilt, but you still fight to keep good people safe. You're not a bad person, Tim. Alex was wrong about you – what happened to me wasn't your fault. So just stop. You're destroying yourself, and you and I already have enough damage between the both of us for about ten lifetimes. I need you, and if you break yourself, then I'll have no hope of getting through this."

Tim just stares. He has no words, no thoughts. Jay's words ring in his head, and he's not sure he knows how to process them all. He opens his mouth to speak, but it feels like his throat has just closed up. And Jay just keeps staring; watching with that intense gaze, as if daring Tim to try and contradict him, try and say that he's wrong. Tim swallows hard. "Jay…I…" His shoulders slump slightly in defeat. "Thank you." And he means it.

Jay smiles softly. For an uncomfortable moment, the two just stand there. Finally, Jay glances at the door leading to the hallway. "So." His voice is much lighter, more casual. Clearly trying to diffuse the awkward tension that is now strung between the two men. "What made you come bursting in here like a ghost was on your heels, anyway? Did you have that little faith in my ability to stay put?"

"No, well – yes. I pretty much have no faith in your ability to stay put." Tim's chest tightens at the reminder of why he had coming running back to the hotel. "But that's not why I was running." He takes a long breath, but after a moment realizes that there is no way to break the news gently to Jay. "It…it found us."

Immediately, Jay's face falls. Horror and confusion flash across his face until it's just disbelief there. "Wh – what? You mean, that thing? It's here?" Jay's already white skin pales a few shades lighter.

Maybe that wasn't the best way to spring the news on him. Tim tries to keep his voice steady, so as not to encourage Jay's alarm. "Yes. It was on the footage you had recorded last night."

"It was in the room?"

"No, no it was outside. But it was looking through the window –"

"We have to leave," Jay cuts in.

"I know, Jay. But you need to calm down, or we'll –"

"Calm down?" Jay exclaims, his voice cracking on the last word. "Calm down, when the last time I remember seeing that thing, it had taken me who knows where for over two years and done things to me that have turned my brain into a pulverized mess? Shit, Tim. Why –" But Jay's frantic shouting is suddenly cut-off by a violent coughing fit.

"Jay?"

Jay is almost bent over double, one hand covering his mouth and the other reaching out for the dresser to steady himself. The coughs are harsh, and so close together they leave no room for Jay to catch his breath.

Tim shoves his hand into his shirt pocket and pulls out his pill bottle. He rips off the cap and dumps two pills into his hand. Snatching the water bottle that had been lying on Jay's bed, he shoves both the water bottle and pills into Jay's hands. "Here, Jay!"

He almost expects Jay to argue, to refuse the pills he used to claim he did not need. But Tim has barely even finished saying Jay's name before Jay is shoving the pills into his mouth and downing the rest of the water. He coughs out some of the water, but manages to keep the pills in and swallows them with difficulty.

The coughing continues. All Tim can do is stand there, helpless, as the coughs are ripped from Jay's body. The pills are supposed to help. They're supposed to help! Then gradually, agonizingly, the coughing starts to lessen. A final, weak cough escapes Jay's lips, and then he sinks to the floor, his hand sliding along the dresser drawers as he falls. Tim quickly crouches down beside him, pressing a hand against Jay's back to hold him upright.

"Jay. You okay, buddy?"

Jay is gasping, his eyes watery from the vicious coughing. He nods faintly, not bothering to lift his head to look at Tim. "Yeah…" he finally manages. "I'm fine. Thanks…" He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath. "Is it here? It has to be close by."

Though a valid point, Jay saying it out loud sets Tim even more on edge. Tim glances around them, though he knows they would know if it was in the room with them. They are alone. "No. I don't know where it is. But we need to leave right now."

Jay just nods. He allows Tim to help pull him to his feet, but refuses to just sit while Tim packs the small amount of things they have. "I'm fine, Tim," he murmurs irritably, seemingly recovered after a few seconds. "It's just coughing, I don't need to be hospitalized."

Tim wants to argue that it's not "just coughing," but Jay is already shakily moving about the room gathering up their things, so he doesn't bother picking a fight. In less than ten minutes they've checked out and are driving out of the hotel's parking lot.

For a while they say nothing, Tim rigid in the driver's seat, and Jay wearily leaning his head against the passenger window. "Where are we going?" Jay finally asks, the words heavy.

"To another hotel."

"It's just going to find us again," Jay mutters bitterly. "It always does."

Anger fills Tim at the hopeless statement, even though he knows it's true. "Well, I'm not going to just sit around and let it find us," he says venomously. "At least I'm trying to keep it away from us – from you."

Jay bites his lip guiltily at that. "Sorry," he whispers.

Tim doesn't answer. He doesn't say it's okay, because he feels like nothing will ever be okay for them again, and he doesn't know how to face that possibility.

So they sit in silence for what seems like an endless amount of time. The road passes by quickly, and the sky lazily watches from above. The sun is starting to set, and the low colors stretching over the horizon are making Tim feel uncomfortably drowsy. He hasn't had a lot of sleep in the past few days, and that realization is just starting to come to him. He rubs his aching eyes, and grips the steering wheel tighter.

"I wonder if Jessica is where I was for the past two years."

The comment is so random, and Jay's tone of voice so eerily casual, that it throws off Tim for a minute. "I…" but he's not sure how to respond.

Jay continues as though Tim hadn't spoken. "Maybe Alex is too. I don't think Brian is though. That thing hadn't taken him like it had with Jessica, Alex, and I. At least, it hadn't up to Entry 86. I wonder why it didn't." Jay's tone of voice unnerves Tim. He's talking as though asking Tim what the weather is going to be tomorrow. There's almost no emotion to his words, just a casual, neutral overtone. "Maybe it doesn't bother with dead people. Maybe we still have to be clinging to some sort of life when it takes us. So it can…torture us, or whatever it does to us when it takes us." Jay picks at a stray thread on the car seat absently. "But then…it took that hiker Alex had killed –"

"Jay," Tim says sharply. "Enough." He gives Jay a stern look, and is disturbed to see that Jay doesn't seem bothered in the least by the interruption. He looks like he'll never be bothered by anything again.

Jay just shrugs and continues to look out the window.

A few minutes pass, each feeling agonizingly slow in the silence. Then, Tim can't hold back the question any longer. Not now that Jay's brought the place up. He knows he's going to contradict what he just said to Jay, but…he has to know. "Do you…do you remember anything, since you've seen the entries? About where you were for the past two years?"

He expects Jay to be pissed. Or scared. Or have some sort of reaction. But Jay just keeps staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by with slight interest. "No," Jay finally answers. "Or at least, not consciously. I think I dream about it, though. I don't remember what's in the dreams though…I never do, when they're about that place."

The answer isn't comforting. Then again, how is any answer to that question going to be comforting? Tim can't think of anything that would be appropriate to say to Jay's answer, so he doesn't say anything at all. Jay doesn't seem to except a response, so they both fall back into silence.

It's almost dark by the time Tim picks a place he feels satisfied with. It's a dinky little motel just off of the highway; a small room with a broken ac unit and bed sheets that looks like they haven't had a good washing in years. But Jay doesn't complain, he simply drops Tim's backpack to the floor and sits on one of the beds, staring at his ratty shoes in exhaustion.

It's then that Tim notices that Jay's camera is no where to be seen. "Hey – where's the camera?"

Jay gestures to the backpack.

"You, uh, don't want to be recording?"

Jay shakes his head. He seems a little more normal now that the drive is over. Whatever had been affecting him in the car seems to have subsided a bit, though Tim can't imagine what could have helped. Maybe just getting away from the previous hotel had been enough to calm him down.

"You were right," Jay responds. "Watching those entries…I made everything worse by getting those tapes from Alex and then filming my search for him – for everything. It's almost like that thing is drawn to the camera…I don't know, that sounds stupid. I just don't want to use it right now."

Tim can't say he's not relieved that Jay's finally stopped obsessing over the thing, but he still feels off-put at what Jay had said. He can tell that Jay is disturbed by what he had watched on those entries, but he's not sure what to say about them to Jay. Does Jay even want to talk to him about them? He's terrible at reading people when it comes to things like this, and the whole situation is just plain uncomfortable to begin with. But…he can't not say something.

"Hey, Jay." Jay looks up wearily from his seat on his bed. "Are…are you okay? Do you want to talk about the entries at all? Or anything from them that seems unclear?"

The shadow of a sad smile crosses Jay's face; it's clear he knows what Tim is trying to do. "No. Thanks, Tim. I just, I need to sort out everything in my head right now."

Tim nods in understanding. It falls quiet in the room as Tim drops his duffel bag at the foot of his bed. He drops onto the bed and lies there on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"So…" Jay says after a while. "Now what?"

Tim tilts his head so his eyes swerve over to Jay's hunched form.

Jay glances at Tim. "I mean, what's our plan? Do we even have a plan? Last time it was about defeating Alex…I think. I don't know, it felt like we were just constantly running in circles. And now…now what? Alex isn't here anymore, but that thing still is. Are we supposed to kill it? Can it even be killed?" Jay groans in frustration and buries his face in his hands.

Tim frowns as he considers Jay's questions. He has a point – what is their plan? He sits up slowly. "Well, I've been trying to find out more information on the place I found you in. Maybe try to figure out how you got there, and then, where you've been this whole time. But even if we do figure that out, I don't see what good it'll do us."

But Jay looks interested. "Tell me what you've found out so far."

So Tim tells him about the research he's done on the place, and how Alex's story ties into it all. Jay focuses intently on everything Tim says, his eyes both attentive and thinking. "Well," he says once Tim's finished. "We have to go back there."

Tim looks at Jay in surprise. "Seriously? You want to go back?"

"We're going to have to eventually, aren't we?"

"Well yeah, but I thought that since that's where you were…"

"Dropped off by my apparent rescuer?" Jay finishes. "That's exactly why I want to go there. There has to be something there that can help answer our questions." Despite Jay's fervor, Tim can see the shadow of apprehension behind Jay's eyes. But he also sees the determination there, and knows talking Jay out of it isn't an option.

Tim shrugs. "Alright, sure. Let's go tomorrow." He pauses, and glances at his backpack. "I think we should take the camera, though."

Jay's face drops slightly at that. "I'd rather not…"

Tim almost wants to laugh. "And this is the person who demanded more tapes this morning."

"That was before I saw all the damage I had done with that stupid thing!" Jay exclaims. "I just, I don't see why we need it."

"Because if your paranoia hadn't insisted that the camera be on last night, we would have never known that that thing had found us," Tim snaps. He notices the slightly deflated look on Jay's face and softens his voice. "Look, I just think that – for now – it might be best to keep it with us. It might see something we don't, and that could be a huge help in figuring all of this out."

"And this is coming from the person who was whining about me having the thing for the past few days…" Jay mutters.

"Yeah, well, seeing a faceless monster creeping in on you at 3am is bound to change a person's opinion on some things," Tim replies irritably.

Jay shoots Tim an annoyed look. "Fine. Whatever. We'll take it with us."

"Good."

"Awesome."

Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm setting the camera up, and then I'm going to bed."

/

The night passes without incident. If Jay had had any nightmares, Tim wasn't aware of them. Either because Jay had been quiet, or because Tim's exhaustion had finally caught up enough that he slept solidly for most of the night. He hopes it's because there had been no nightmares period.

They wake up early the next morning. Tim notices that Jay's still stuck in his borrowed pair of clothes and says that they should probably get him some clothing of his own because they go back to Rosswood, in case they don't have time later. They stop at a cheap department store and Jay finds a few pairs of clothes that fight him well enough. Tim makes him get a new pair of sneakers too, since the ones Jay is wearing look like they're about to fall of his feet. Jay insists on paying for the items himself, but quickly realizes that he has no way to pay for them. He can't remember if he had left his wallet in his car's glove compartment or if it had been in his jeans pocket the day he had confronted Alex in Benedict Hall. It hadn't been on him when Tim had found him, and who the hell knows what happened to his car (he was fairly pissed when Tim embarrassingly admitted to just abandoning the car), so he has to accept Tim's offer to pay for it all.

"I promise, I'll pay you back as soon as I can," Jay reassures Tim – for about the fifth time – as they get into Tim's car.

"Jay, I swear, if you don't shut up about your stupid clothes, I'm going to punch you in the face."

"That's mature," Jay snaps. But despite his efforts to look mad, the gratitude is still clear on his face.

They don't say much during the drive to Rosswood Park, both too lost in their own thoughts. It's still about mid-morning when they reach the park, and the day is as bright as it was when Tim had found Jay. Jay holds the camera at chest-level as they walk down Judge's Trail, pointing it at the passing tree lines. Both of them are armed with pocket knives they had picked up at the department store (it was Tim's idea, "just in case," he had said). Despite this, neither can shake the feeling of unease that's settled upon them as they walk deeper into Rosswood.

The hike to the trial site is uneventful; not once do they hear or see any sign of someone following them. The trial site itself looks like it hasn't been touched since Tim and Jay had left it before. The two buildings stand empty and open, and the bell peaks up between the grass blades attentively. Tim and Jay crouch on either side of the bell, Tim giving Jay more room so Jay can record the thing with the camera.

"I wonder how old it is," Jay muses as he sweeps the camera over the outside of the bell.

"At least over one hundreds years old, if it matches up with the time that town was here," Tim comments, studying the brim of the bell. "Probably closer to one hundred and fifty years." He pauses. "Hey, I think there's something engraved on the inside of the bell's brim." Jay shifts his position and moves the camera so it's looking inside the bell. "There." Tim points at where the bell is embedded in the dirt. He pulls out his cell phone and aims its light at the indicated area. There, a row of engraved letters and numbers can be seen in.

"G. W. Almonde – 1838," Jay reads. "Geez, this thing is old. G. W. Alomnde…I'm assuming that's a name?"

"The bell maker maybe?" Tim suggests.

"Probably." Jay studies the bell a bit longer, then sits back on his heels. "I think that's all we're gonna find out about the bell here. Should we look at the buildings?"

"Yeah, I guess." Tim stands and brushes the dirt and leaves off of his pants, Jay following suit.

The smaller building Tim had found Jay in is closer, but Tim hangs back a few steps, allowing Jay to decide if he wants to go into that building first or leave it for later. Jay heads towards the smaller building, seemingly unconcerned.

The floor is still covered in leaves and other litter, but a lot of it has noticeable signs of being moved about – the only traces that Jay and Tim had been here a few days prior. The two search, and find nothing of importance in the building. Nor is there any sight of the mysterious cell phone Jay had called Tim with.

The larger building – the one that used to be the "courthouse" – is just as damaged as the smaller one. It's hard to tell which building the fire had started in, since the level of damage is so close. The door is missing from the larger building as well, as is several planks from the walls and ceiling. Sunlight filters through the openings, spilling onto the floor and casting odd shadows on the walls. It looks as though there had once been two parallel sections of long, wooden pews filing up the building to its front. Most of the pews had been burned or – oddly enough – look as though they had been intentionally destroyed through blunt force. The rotting walls are bare, and the few windows that line them are empty, their glass panes having long been shattered. At the front of the building is a low platform.

Jay and Tim walk through the building cautiously, Jay trying to film as much of the place as possible. Nothing seems to be of interest…until they reach the platform. They both freeze, staring.

"Holy shit," Tim finally mutters.

In the center of the platform – streaked in white paint – is the symbol. The symbol that has haunted them for years – the circle with the "X" stricken through it. And in the center of the "X" lies a plain white doll, much like the one Jay had found in Brian's house so long ago.

"I guess we're expected," Jay says darkly.

"Thanks, Jay, I really needed that said out loud." Tim runs a hand through his hair. He begins to spin on his heel, scanning the building. Then he halts, his eyes widening.

Standing in the doorway at the opposite end of the building is a man. He is wearing jeans, black gloves, and a high-collared black jacket with a single white stripe on the left upper arm. Over his face is a black and white mask painted to look like a skull.

"Hey!" Tim shouts, breaking into a run. Immediately, the masked man turns and bolts away from the building.

By the time Tim makes it through the doorway, the masked man is already half-way across the clearing. Tim rushes after him, Jay's following shouts faint over the pounding in his ears. The masked man ignores Judge's Trail and inside runs into the thick woods, Tim in pursuit. Branches scrape Tim's face and tug at his clothes, as though trying to hold him back. But he pushes past, never breaking his eyes away from the running figure in front of him.

"Stop!" he yells, knowing he won't get an answer. The masked man doesn't slow at all, and neither does Tim. In fact, for a while Tim is sure he is gaining on the man. But then, a vicious wave of pain slashes through his head, making him cry out and halt in his tracks, clutching his forehead. When the wave passes, he looks up; the man has disappeared. Growling in frustration, Tim starts to run forward, but is stopped again by another blow of pain. He falls to his knees, his hands pressed against both sides of his head as he tries to stifle the agony. But the pain continues, steadily growing more intense with every wave.

He's vaguely aware of a voice calling his name in the distance. But before he can try to think of who could be calling for him, his chest tightens and he begins to cough harshly. Panic shoots through him, and his mind is screaming for him to move and get out of there. But he can't. He tries to climb to his feet, but falls onto his hands and knees, hacking and gasping. His vision is blurring, and a dull buzzing starts to sound in his ears.

He feels its presence before he sees it. He lifts his head, the effort to do so agonizing, and terror clenches his body. There it stands, not twelve feet from him. Its head is tilted slightly, as though studying Tim with vague interest. It does not move, does not reach for him. It simply stares.

Tim tastes copper in his mouth and coughs out a slippery wet substance. He can't remember what the substance is called. He hears his name ringing in the back of his mind. But it's not his voice that's shouting it.

Jay. The name hazily registers in his mind. Then, blackness takes him and he knows nothing more.