Chapter Text
Wilson was being lied to. The group of survivors were oblivious to the fact that one of their members was putting up a facade to hide his true intentions, and Wilson saw right through it.
Maxwell had some nerve to side with the shadows, after everything his “friends” had done for him. They could have left him for dead after all the anguish he had put them through, yet Wilson had personally ensured that through a shaky truce they would teach the man how to survive the harsh world he crafted. Those other survivors were quick to forgive, but Wilson always had his suspicions, which were nothing if not correct.
He had proved Wilson right, the flower on his blazer a key calling card of the mistress of the darkness, the queen of shadows herself. The others weren't aware of this, not yet at least. Wilson himself, would have been none the wiser if not for encountering her himself. The slightest bit of digging led him straight to the clues he needed to confirm his suspicions. Maxwell was a traitor.
The campfire did little to keep Wilson's eyes off of the man in question, watching as he paced around the camp as inconspicuous as his tall body allowed him to. He felt a small nudge against his shoulder, his eyes temporarily evading the magician.
“You're tense.” Willow eyed him, his best friend giving him a look that to the untrained eye would not appear to be concern. “Quit thinking so hard.” Wilson shook his head.
“I'm not thinking- well not the way you mean.” The scientist gestured to the man who slunk in the shadows. “I'm worried about him.” Willow raised a brow.
“That's a first.”
“No, I think he's up to something.”
“Ah. You always think that.” He let out a small huff, glaring at the tall man. Wilson stood up, Willow quickly urging him to sit back down. “Wilson, wait, don't start anything.” his eyes met the magician's, who quickly turned and walked into the woods. It was as if he already knew what Wilson was thinking.
“I just want to ask a few questions.” He stepped around the fire, following the man. He heard Willow shout after him, but decided to ignore her. Wolfgang sat next to the crockpot, the log next to him empty. The full moon rose as the summer sun was beginning to set, tonight was the perfect night to confront the old man.
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Wilson blurted, glaring at Maxwell.
“No, I'm not working with the shadows, Charlie, or whatever you want to call it.” He straightened, eyeing the scientist. “Our partnership ended long ago.”
“No it didn't. I have proof, and if I tell the others, what will they think?” Wilson squinted at him, crossing his dark arms. For a second, Maxwell's composure wavered, a look of alarm flashing across his face before quickly returning to his nonchalant attitude.
“Yes, I wonder what they will think. Perhaps more ramblings of a madman.” At that moment, critical thought was not at the forefront of his mind. Wilson reached into his vest, pulling out a thorned rose that had grown intertwined with a chunk of marble.
“Maybe not that mad.” Wilson was being cocky, waving the evidence in front of this man. The similarities of the flower in Wilson's hand and the one Maxwell wore were obvious. Something shifted in the way Maxwell was standing, his back straighter, head tilted up as the last hints of sun left the darkening sky.
“Very well.” His hand flicked, dismissing the scientist.
“Very well?! Do you not care that your whole reputation is on the line?” Wilson was bewildered, eyes adjusting as the full moon rose. “I'm going to show everyone that you are just as sleezy as you've always been.”
“Wilson!” A familiar female voice cut through the air, the two men turning to her. Willow stepped up to him, eyes narrowing. “I told you to leave him be.”
“That's right, keep your mad scientist on a tight leash. He's barking up the wrong tree.” Maxwell's tone made it clear he was threatening him. Warning him to stay in line. He turned to return back to the camp, looking back at the other two. “I'd keep your ‘evidence’ private next time.” He gave Wilson one last ominous glare, slinking into the shadows. Willow turned back to the gentleman.
“What is he talking about?” She pursed her lips, eyeing the rock in Wilson's grip.
“This is from that weird stage we found, remember? The one that used shadow hands to puppet us… it's the same rose.” Wilson turned the piece of marble in his dark hands, gently placing it within the woman's. Willow inspected it thoughtfully, looking up at him.
“Don't argue with him again. It's only going to cause more problems.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth seeping through his clothes. “Let's keep this between us.” Wilson frowned at her, furrowing his brow.
“I think they deserve to know.” Wilson grabbed the marble out of her hand, eyeing the wilting rose. Willow let out a sigh.
“Wilson please, I just want the others to be okay, for us to be okay.” she looked down at him, the hand on his shoulder twitching, hesitating.
“And I’m tired of pretending we are, that everything is okay when it clearly isn't.” the words came out far more cold than he intended, the bitterness seeping through. Willow let out a sigh, placing her hand over Wilson's.
“If we show them we're okay, they'll believe it. They look up to us.” She smiled weakly, her furrowed brow obscured by her thin bangs. “They want to be happy, they want us to be happy.”
Wilson narrowed his eyes. “What does this have to do with Maxwell?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “This isn't about Maxwell! It's about you! Why can't you just be happy with what you have? Why do you have to keep starting trouble?” she let go of him, folding her arms. “They're waiting for us, you know. They want us to make it official.” Wilson's eyes snapped to hers.
“Willow, no.”
“Oh please, you know what this group needs!” She was stressed, her eyes bouncing from one tree to the other. “They need a lead and we are the perfect head of the group right?”
“Willow, I've already said I don't want to be in a relationship.” Wilson fidgeted with the buttons on his vest. “We're friends, they don't need parental figures.”
“Half of the group are kids! They need a family!” Wilson's eyes narrowed, frowning. He wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation.
“I'm going to take a walk.” He turned, the woman letting out a sob. He could feel her eyes burn holes into his back as he traveled deeper into the forest, the sounds of the camp swallowed by the silent trees that were painted blue by the moon.
Willow isn't even actually into me. I can tell. I think it's the stress getting to her. The whole conversation that had just occurred left him more stressed than before, feeling as though he were clinging onto threads of his sanity. The shadows cast by the full moon danced, taunting him. Wilson clutched his head, the shadows whispering unintelligible words. It never changes around here. Wilson glanced back at the trees Maxwell had disappeared off to. His brow furrowed, a rustling behind him catching his attention. He whipped his head around, expecting to see Willow's concerned face again, but was met with nothing more than an empty clearing. The lack of clarity unsettled the scientist - He would rather know what he was dealing with in a world like this. He glanced around, the shadows of the trees growing longer. The hair on his neck raised. Something's going on.
There was a slight tingling sensation crawling up his calf, to which Wilson instinctively swatted at it, taking a quick step back. Wilson's breath caught in his throat at the sight; his own shadow slowly crawled up his leg, clearly much more than a hallucination. He shrieked, tumbling backwards and trying to shake the shadow from his limb. It's the full moon! This shouldn't be happening!
The shadow tightened like a grip around his torso, yanking him backwards and sending Wilson face first into the forest floor, the evidence flying out of his grasp. The air knocked out of his lungs, leaving him breathless and disoriented for a moment. The voices around him grew much louder, speaking words he could almost understand. They felt like threats. Wilson grasped at the ground around him as the hand pulled him away from the clearing, deeper into the forest. He frantically tried to get a grip on the grass and roots around him, his claw-like fingers making it almost impossible to grab hold. He cried out, unable to stop whatever fate had been planned out for him. Damn it, no! The shadows around him seemed to be grinning, the chatter and taunting were becoming unbearable. Wilson's head felt like it was about to burst. The soil kept giving way, ignoring Wilson's pleas for help.
His foot caught against a tree stump and began to bend at an uncomfortable angle. Wilson instinctively moved his leg out of the way and turned his head over to look; a small glint pierced through his blurred vision. Without a second thought, he clambered closer to the passing stump, hopelessly grabbing for the wooden handle sticking out from the lumber. The shadows shrieked loudly around him as Wilson struggled to keep a grip. The axe miraculously held onto the wood, giving Wilson a small chance. The moment of hope quickly vanished as the axe wedged free, dragging a deep line in the dirt where he once was. Wilson's screams were lost to the forest, unheard by his friends as he felt his body fall into weightlessness, a familiar spiral engulfing his vision.