Chapter Text
((This is a belated birthday gift to one of my favorite writers on A03, RussianHatter.
I can’t apologize enough for not writing or posting as much as I should ever since I got this account!
So, without further ado, here is part one of a three part series about our-me and Hatter’s especially-OTP’s birthdays. Hope you like it Darling!
P.S….Also, I do /not/ own Outlast or Outlast: Whistleblower. Red Barrels does. But I do own my twisted romantic of a mind.
P.P.S This fic is a divergence from canon, starting from when Waylon fell from the ladder and broke his leg. Personally, I always thought Eddie wasted a good opportunity there…and hope I do him justice.))
It had all started when his Darling ran from him like a startled doe, swift and silent, nothing like the other vulgar, loud whores who decorated the gymnasium.
They always swore and screamed at him, ungrateful to the last.
She was so playful, his golden haired Darling…but she took it too far when she tried to climb that old ladder.
His heart had nearly stopped twice during their meeting: When he had seen her-and when he heard her screaming as she fell and broke her leg.
He hadn’t heard another sound from her, making him terrified at the prospect that he had lost her before he even had her.
He had raised the elevator-and was relieved to find that her chest was rising and falling. His Darling wasn’t dead, only unconscious from the fall.
A flux of emotions went through him all at once: relief and elation at her still breathing, anger-that she would try to scare him like that!- and worry, that such recklessness would pass on to their babies.
Still, love overrode all.
She had looked so frightened when their eyes met for the first (?) time.
Perhaps she had met many men who weren’t gentlemen. She was an angel in Hell, afraid of being corrupted at every turn.
Eddie wasted no time in carrying his unconscious love in his powerful arms, humming his favorite tune as he returned to the Vocational Block.
No one stopped him, many scattering like cockroaches in the light when they heard him walk past, as if mere contact via sound or his shadow spelled their instant death.
Her leg was hurt, with a large splinter from the lift ceiling embedded through it, which he removed at once, before binding her foot with bandages from the first aid kits he had pilfered from the bathrooms.
Then he had disrobed her-not to take advantage of her like a common rogue, never like that- but to further inspect any other injuries she would have incurred from her long exodus.
He was pleased to find she was soft skinned, with an excellent bone structure few of the others possessed. He was not pleased to find she had that...vulgarity.
However, that could wait. Her body had a heartbreaking array of bruises and judging from her facial injuries she had clearly not had a gentle touch upon her person before their paths crossed.
And she looked so fragile he feared “fixing” her now would kill her….and that was the last thing he ever wanted.
He then shaved her from top to bottom, before covering her up with a blanket and went to burn those filthy rags she wore. He would make her something more befitting of her beauty, he promised himself.
It was then he noticed his Darling’s possessions.
There were several papers, a notebook (her diary?) and a camcorder.
He gave an involuntary shudder at the last item, remembering…
No.
He would not think of those….monsters now.
Why dwell on the past when his present and soon to be future bride was before him?
He would not gaze upon the contents of her diary, he was raised better than that.
Her camcorder though…
He was so glad his Darling was out like a light, for he had cried out aloud more than once when he began watching the footage on the camcorder.
How she had suffered under the same jackbooted fucks who had tried to finish what his father and uncle started….how brave she had been to survive Manera-
he would die, unspoken agreement be damned, for laying hands on his Darling…and trying to cook her like she was game!-
How clever she was to crawl through the vents to escape detection!
In the end, he was immensely glad he had watched the contents of the camcorder, despite feeling drained and fired up all at once, for he was now assured his Darling was no vulgar whore. No, she was a brave and intelligent woman who had gone through so much, to make her way to him.
He couldn’t help himself as he bestowed a soft chaste kiss on her lips, letting himself be satisfied for now.
When she woke, he would be gentle, he would be patient.
If she was hungry, he would make her something to eat.
They would talk, make plans for the future.
Already, he was planning on making Manera’s demise nice and slow…..
That would allow them the freedom of cooking without that accursed, classless bone saw disturbing the peace.