Agh! Sorry I'm late! I've been really busy with a lot of writing this weekend, but I'm finally posting chapter 4 of Liminal Love! Hooray!

Content Warning for vomiting, poor self-care, and self-hatred/self-esteem issues. See you at the bottom of the page!

Disciplinary Measures (noun): an imposed penalty, warning, or reprimand meant to correct poor behavior

Rupert was going to kill the Bukowski twins.

He should have known they were screwing with him for cheap laughs, but he didn't think they'd stoop this bloody low. The Backrooms, as it turned out, was just a buzzword for neon colored, brain numbing children's interweb crap copy-pasted over ugly yellow motel rooms. Every image and video he swiped through was filled with crappily animated kiddie monsters covered in insulting amounts of "blood", doing memes that he didn't understand or care to. Everything he saw was so stupid that it was making him see red, and he should have thrown his phone across the room and forgotten the whole thing hours ago.

And yet…

Certain phrases kept popping up, key phrases that sounded just like what those bloody Toppats had said the other day. "Falling out of existence". "Falling through the world". "Disappearing in plain sight".

Rupert couldn't say for sure, but the Toppats weren't brain-dead enough to play around with crappy internet memes, right? So how would they know to "explain" Dave's disappearance with these oft repeated sayings?

It wasn't adding up, and it was giving Rupert a migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, looking blearily at the bright blue light of his phone screen for another moment before turning it off. Continuing this "research" wouldn't do him any good. It would be best to sleep on it, then gather his thoughts in the morning, after PT-

His phone alarm bleeped painfully in his ear and he startled, turning the screen back on to check the time: 4:45 in the bloody AM

Rupert cursed under his breath. PT started at five o'clock on the dot, every day, and normally he hardly even needed the full fifteen minutes to get ready. Unfortunately, as he lurched to his feet, he quickly realized he was going to need every single second.

His stomach flipped and he fell towards the rubbish bin, emptying what little sat in his stomach for a good long while. Every time he thought he was done, his stomach would do another flip and he'd dry heave for even longer, fighting off the urge to pass out so that his brain would stop feeling like it was splintering. How could he have stayed up all night with this "research"? It'd been a complete waste of time and energy, and he was going to pay for it when he made it to the field… If he made it to the field…

After what felt like way too long, his stomach settled enough that he could scramble into his PT gear and stumble out of his room. The hallways weren't much better, though. Rupert's head throbbed and bobbled with each staggering step, and the droll lights overhead left wild streaks across his vision as he slammed into every wall that he came across. Thank God he'd practically memorized his route to the field, or else he might not have known where he was going-

He slammed roughly into someone and bounced backwards, smacking his head against the wall and breaking what razor-thin patience he had left.

"Oi, you!" He yelled. "Watch where yer goin', you bloody wanker! You stupid or somethin'?!"

"No, Price, I don't think I am, but perhaps you'd like to enlighten me otherwise?"

Rupert froze, a cold wash of I-messed-up-really-bad sitting like a rock in his stomach as he looked up at General Hubert Galeforce. The general was brushing the imaginary dust off of his new uniform with a bit more force than necessary, his dark eyes narrowed as he stared Rupert down. It took him a second to realize the general was waiting for him to say something.

"Uh- sorry, I was- late. For PT. Yeah."

Galeforce squinted at him. "PT ended an hour ago, Price. Even if it hadn't, you're clearly in no shape for strenuous activity. Charlie informed me that you wouldn't be well today, so you have the day off."

Rupert's face burned as the words passed through his head like aspic. He'd never missed PT. He'd never taken a day off. And he'd never made an absolute fool of himself in front of his superior like this. His eyes started to sting- no, dammit, he would not cry in front of the general, he would not, he would not-

Galeforce cleared his throat and Rupert blinked harshly. "Why don't you step into my office for a moment, Price? Seeing as you have the day off and all." He gestured back the way he'd been coming from. Rupert nodded numbly, following the general down the hall like a school boy on the way to the principal's office.

Sitting in an office had never been this agonizing. The general sat at his desk, peering at him as Rupert sat in the tiny wooden chair that would probably break under his weight if he moved too much. This forced him to sit completely still, stewing in the awkward silence as Galeforce kept his mouth shut, as if to dare him to speak first. Rupert knew that would be a death sentence to his already tarnished military career if he did, but damn him if it didn't make him want to tear his hair out.

Finally, Galeforce sighed. "Charlie told me about your 'antics' from last night. At the gym, and at the local tavern." He leaned forward, hands pressed flat on his desk. "It's disheartening to see you so badly out of sorts, Price. Disheartening and disappointing. Do you plan to pull yourself together?"

Rupert's face was on fire. He nodded curtly, eyes locked on the fancy new nameplate that decorated the desk. Despite being a general now, Galeforce didn't seem to have more than that and his uniform to celebrate the promotion.

Galeforce clasped his hands together. "Believe me, Price losing someone close to you isn't easy, and unfortunately, it doesn't always get easier with time. I didn't know your friend, but can you honestly tell me that he'd be okay with seeing you like this? Staying on the straight and narrow is the best thing you can do to honor his memory-"

"Dave's not dead!" Rupert blurted, shutting his mouth with a clack of his teeth when Galeforce gave him a look. Rupert's grip on his crossed arms tightened, and it was only now that he noticed just how gross and crusty the bandages on his knuckles had gotten. "...Dave can't be dead," he repeated weakly. "He just can't be…"

The silence stretched on. A clock was ticking outside in the hall, even though the door was firmly closed. The air conditioner kicked on, and Rupert suppressed a shudder.

Finally, Galeforce leaned back in his chair. "Price, I think it would be a good idea if you went to talk with someone. We have a number of therapists and counselors on base; I can set you up with someone today, if you like." He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around for a moment. "Coming to terms with… things, can be difficult for us to do on our own, but that's why there are people who can help. Do you find this acceptable?"

Rupert did not find it acceptable. He hated the idea of having to see a doctor about his feelings, of all things. He didn't need a therapist. Therapists were for people with problems, who weren't good enough. Rupert was good enough. He was a perfect soldier… or at least, he was supposed to be a perfect soldier. He'd worked so hard to be perfect… but what did it matter if Dave wasn't there for him to be perfect for?

He realized he'd been quiet for too long, and nodded numbly. Perfect or not, he couldn't exactly ignore an order from a superior, no matter what the order was.

Galeforce sighed, a hint of relief in his voice as he stood and handed Rupert a note with a name and a room number. He didn't release it right away when Rupert took it, though. "This isn't a punishment, Price," the general said firmly. "This is to help you get back on track. You're an excellent worker, and I'd like for you to keep working as you have been. We all need help sometimes; it's nothing to feel ashamed of."

He finally released his grip, and Rupert stuffed the note in his pocket. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, "thank you, sir." With a parting salute, Rupert left the room and closed the door behind him. He pulled the note out just far enough to read the room number again before heading in that direction.

He was entirely positive that seeing a therapist wouldn't change a thing. Then again, what did an imperfect soldier like him know about anything?

...Is Rupert overreacting about how missing one (1) day of work has "completely tarnished" his military career? Yes, but his silly little brain ain't doing so hot right now, so his crippling perfectionism is even more crippling than usual. Being told to get a therapist doesn't really help; a perfectionist being forced to ask for help is as painful as death. Believe me, I've seen it first hand. He's a "Little Miss Perfect" if I've ever seen one. Does that make Dave his "Ordinary"? (I'm talking about two particular songs; they're pretty banger if you want to look them up!)

With the success of the Toppat Airship Raid, Captain Hubert Galeforce is now a general, just like Completing the Mission! Only real difference is that he never asked a criminal to help out, a super risky move that could have gone very badly in many ways. Good thing there were no criminals good enough to hire outside of the Toppat Clan! Wouldn't want to help the enemy and make an embarrassment of ourselves, now would we? Anyway, aside from the title and the nifty hat, nothing really seems to change for Galeforce after his promotion. He might have gotten a pay raise, but who knows?

Next time: More Dave! Man, I wonder how Dave's holding up. Still wandering those Backrooms, probably; maybe he found the exit already! (Looks pointedly at the number of chapters this fic has)

Yeah, no doubt about it. Anyway, thanks for reading! Leave a comment to tell me what you think of this, and I'll see you next week. Until then!