A/N- Damien was my favorite character, but admittedly, he was mostly on the sidelines when it came to the heart of the matter. Still, a bit of backstory doesn't ever hurt. Also, the picture mentioned is the left-most one shown when we enter Mark's master bedroom with the detective. I'm sure you'd know that already though.
"Another toast! To our fine and dashing new mayor." Mark raised his glass, smirking between then three friends with mirth. "May he still find time in his busy new schedule to remember those who care about him for more than his title."
Damien shook his head good-naturedly, chuckling as he followed Mark and William in perhaps the sixth toast of the day. They tipped back their glasses and drank with great fervor. As one, they swallowed the spirits and shot each other amused glances when the burn hit their stomachs.
"I promise to think of you fondly when I raise your taxes." Damien joked, starting another bout of laughter.
It was late into the evening, and there was nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, enjoying a good time with his very dearest friends. The city election had been far and away a victory for Damien, and he was in good spirits. That morning he'd been sworn into office, getting used to the feel of the city hall and it's many offices. He'd met countless council members and important figures of the community. Tomorrow the true work would begin, but he'd spent the time that day to familiarize himself with the expectations of his new duties.
Mark, of course, had invited them all over to his manor. The man was always looking for a reason to celebrate and his friend's promotion was a rather important occasion after all. Not that it was a surprise to any of the three.
Damien had been working for years to try improving the community, focusing primarily on the corrupt politicians that had a grip over the local court houses. Judges were being paid off to give lighter sentences or pardons for favors, and the man hadn't rested until he'd uncovered all the scandals to the public.
Of course, his exposure of the corruption hadn't made him a popular figure among most of the wealthy. They'd been the ones with their hands deep in the judges' pockets, but he was something of a small-time hero for the people. No one wanted the dangerous criminals back into society any sooner than what was fairly decided by the community, and Damien had been the one to ensure that.
When he'd decided that running for mayor would be the best use of his skills to improve his friends' lives, the people had readily rallied around his cause, making for a rather uneventful and easy race.
The mayor smiled warmly at his two friends, listening to Mark tell a story of when they were younger, only half listening. Of course, he wouldn't have made it this far without his two biggest supports. Mark had always pressed him to take the big risks, to expose the money-hungry judges for what they were. And William would never let him forget that he was doing the right thing. Even when the pressure for him to back away had risen to a dangerous degree, Will had been there to keep him steady.
These two were the dearest friends Damien could have hoped for, and he wouldn't trade them for the world. More like brothers than anything. William and Mark had always been closer, but he felt honored just to be included in the first place. His adolescent days had been filled with many a great adventure thanks to the two older boys.
"Well, Damien?" William asked, drawing the his attention away from his pleasant and wandering thoughts. He raised his brows, waiting for the Colonel to continue. "What do you think your first decree as mayor will be?"
"Hmm, I hadn't thought about it, actually." He answered truthfully. His main focus had been getting to this position in the first place. Then, grinning with delight, he held up his glass in a mock salute. "My first decree will be…more whiskey!"
This set the others into a raucous fit of laughter again, and Damien cherished the sound, wanting the night to continue without end.
Of course, every day must end at some point, and they'd all drunk themselves sleepy before long. Damien woke the following morning with pounding heads and a bemused smile. He'd prepared himself for the day, gratefully taking the glass of water and medicine left for him by the butler, and made his way to the dining room downstairs.
William and Mark were both awake, waiting for him. They each shared a meaningful glance, knowing the others must also be feeling the effects of too much alcohol. Mark gestured for him to sit, and he did.
Over breakfast, they shared more stories. The companionship struck Damien's heart again, and he knew that it would take a great deal to come between the three of them. As children, they'd been nearly inseparable. Now as adults, despite life often times making it difficult to visit each other as frequently, that bond hadn't wavered.
Mark had surprised him afterward, when he waved them to the courtyard in back, and a photographer was busy setting up his camera. "We must capture this memory with a picture." He'd explained, and they'd posed in front of the stone wall delightfully.
Before he could be late for his first day as city mayor, Damien had bid them a good day. Only after promising to return to visit before forgetting who they were, of course. As he descended the stone steps of the manor entrance, moving off towards where his driver waited, Damien thought to himself that things couldn't possibly have turned out better.
Neither William nor Mark had sent him any sort of reply to his letters. It had been a few days already since he'd heard of the dramatic scene at the manor, and only then from the butler of the house, Gerald, when he'd shown up one day for a surprise visit.
"I apologize, but the Master has requested we bar all guests at the moment, Sir." Gerald had bowed in apology, looking quite tired and uncomfortable. He'd briefly explained the situation when it became apparent Damien was desperate to know if Mark was alright. He'd stood there, shocked and without words. He had half a mind to come barging in there, knocking on Mark's door and demanding he tell him what was going on, but perhaps a bit of space was what he needed most at the moment.
Knowing the butler was only following his orders, Damien nodded respectfully and stepped back. "I'll write him, then, and pray for his wellbeing."
Gerald had followed suit, an expression of relief marking his face. He wondered if the butler had been thankful that Damien hadn't simply stormed inside, causing a scene. It brought little amusement at that moment, however, to visualize himself forcing his way inside. Finally, Gerald spoke again. "A good day to you, sir."
Damien had returned home confused and worried. He wondered how Mark must be holding up, and had immediately set out on a letter asking if there was anything the man could do for his friend, sending it with his secretary that afternoon. The return letter most likely wouldn't reach him until the following morning, but the sooner the better.
William was also his dear friend, however, and he'd written him one as well, asking what on earth was going on and to give him his side of the story so Damien could better understand. A deep feeling of anxiety settled in his stomach, knowing this couldn't bode well for the men's friendship. Surely there was some reasoning behind all of this, some justification? And what of Celine? What was she thinking during this time of turmoil?
The Colonel lived quite a bit further away than Mark, and so he couldn't drop by and check on him in person. Perhaps another time, but the city also needed him. The mayor couldn't afford to go neglecting his duties purely for selfish reasons, and he reluctantly concluded that drowning his worries in work would distract him long enough for them to answer his letters.
Though, no response ever reached his office desk at the city hall. Two weeks came and went and still no word from either William or Mark. He tried again, this time marking it with the official city seal. Perhaps it had simply fallen through the cracks the first time around. Again, he sent out letters to both men.
Neither replied.
Even as a child, he'd had the terrible habit of worrying too much, and a good bit of that still lingered as an adult. His two dearest friends weren't on speaking terms and no doubt in a great deal of emotional distress, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to help. That's what friends did, after all. In times of duress, when perhaps they weren't thinking right, friends knocked some sense into those blinded by emotion.
With the upcoming city elections, Damien was busy almost nonstop, continuing to work on the city's problems while simultaneously working to guarantee his re-election. The people had seemed to love him enough as mayor to vote him in three more times, and he hoped they would see fit to do so again.
This, however, meant that he had little time for personal matters, and wasn't able to go out there and face the two men himself. As much as he wanted to, he owed the city his dedication. Still, the hurt he felt in his heart for having to neglect the two people most dear to him was heavy. A part of him knew he'd regret it later.
Damien had nearly missed the envelope from Mark entirely, having so much paperwork on his desk one thing was barely distinguishable from another. Only the bright red wax stamped with the Iplier family crest made it stand out at all from official financial reports and civil requests from the community. His days were busy after all, and his eyes weren't as sharp after hours of staring at mindless drivel from the council members.
Upon discovering it, he'd eagerly snatched it up, almost nicking his finger with the letter opener. It contained an invitation to a night of poker. Along with the yellowed parchment was a much smaller note written in that delicate script of Mark's, bringing a smile to Damien's face.
"I hope you haven't forgotten those who care about you for more than your title.
Mark"
Damien needed no time to think further on his decision. He'd called for his secretary then, asking her to clear out his schedule for the following Friday. The city would be fine without him for an evening. It had been some time since the last time he took some time for himself. Some relaxation with good friends over some good alcohol was long overdue, he thought.
There was someone he was sure Mark would love to meet, and perhaps this would be the best way to introduce them to him. His newly-hired District Attorney was just the sort of person Mark had always enjoyed conversing with. He was sure they two of them would become very good friends, if only they'd meet.
Yes, that's what he'd do. Despite there being no mention on bringing a plus one, he was sure Mark wouldn't mind his presumptuous decision. Surely the word of a childhood friend would ease some of the offense if Mark truly were displeased about it.
Finding much more reason to look forward to the rest of his day, Damien sat back further in his chair and let out a contented sigh. Perhaps, finally, things would return to how they used to be. One could hope.
Hopelessly lost and confused, Damien paced the area beside the black gazebo in the courtyard. Everything had gone so wrong…He felt so cold, despite it being a warm, sunny day. His whole being felt chilled to the bone.
Mark…his friend…dead. Murdered, even. How could this have happened? Things were just beginning to take a turn for the best. All three childhood friends had gathered once more in the same place, and they'd been so close to reconnecting the bond of trust and companionship they'd once shared years ago. Damien had held out the hope that despite the bad decisions and grudges carried for so long they would move past their hurt and come together as the trio he'd missed so dearly.
But it was all for naught. Within the span of a few hours, he'd lost a great friend. Nervously wringing his cane, he almost didn't hear the footsteps approaching him until he'd turned back around in his pacing.
Sighing at the sight of them, Damien loosened the grip on his cane and met them halfway. "Look, I'm sorry you saw that argument with the Colonel. I lost my temper and it wasn't right and…" His friend didn't deserve to see him like that, even in the worst of times. Then, not wanting them to think William was a bad person, he continued. "He must be in shock.
"The Colonel's an eccentric; it's his best quality and his worst. But he's my friend…and so was Mark." His friend said nothing, nodding slowly in understanding, but not giving any sort of response. Perhaps they simply didn't know what to say. That was alright.
Knowing that the attorney was helping the detective with his 'investigation,' he offered some information about Mark. Anything at all could help a case like this, no matter how small the details, and even he couldn't be withholding information if he hoped for the murderer to be brought to justice. Mark deserved as much, no matter how awful he felt having to speak of him in the past tense.
He supposed verbalizing it aloud made it all the more real. Perhaps the reality was now truly beginning to set. Deciding he'd spoken all he could on the matter without feeling uncomfortable, the mayor sighed again, smoothing his hair with a hand.
"I don't have any answers right now. I just need to be alone…to process all of this." He gestured towards the manor, indicating what had transpired inside.
His friend finally nodded, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder, before turning back towards the way they'd come. Damien was grateful they didn't push the issue too hard, not knowing how much he could speak of what had happened before breaking down.
Finding himself alone again Damien began the pacing back and forth, eyes almost impulsively wandering back to the spot where the photographer had stood on that wonderful. Where he'd stood against the wall. Where William had stood. And where Mark had placed himself between them, jovially celebrating Damien's success with the both of them.
Feeling a sudden sorrow well up inside of him, he ripped his gaze away from the spot and continued wringing his cane, mind seeking refuge in other memories.
He felt so…different…when he opened his eyes. Of course, it was only logical he would. He wasn't where he was supposed to be. But it wasn't just that. Something more he hadn't expected.
Damien blinked a few times, his mind finally comprehending that he was looking at the chandelier above the foyer. So, this is where his friend had fallen. He briefly wondered if they had felt pain before dismissing it entirely. That mattered not, now.
The body felt foreign, of course. It wasn't his to begin with. It was a borrowed suit, ill-fitting. But he would grow used to it, he was sure. With a great deal of care, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the floor, before trusting his new limbs enough to stand fully erect. Each movement felt stiff and mechanical. Obviously the body hadn't moved for a great amount of time.
The most jarring part of this whole thing was just how…empty it all felt. How devoid of color it all appeared. Was this the world through the eyes of a broken man? Was this how Mark had viewed his surroundings? Or maybe he was simply looking through the lens of insanity. He couldn't be sure his senses had remained intact through this whole experience.
It was then that he noticed the pressure in his mind, the crowded feeling of being unable to think properly. As if multiple thoughts started and overlapped each other every second. It was all one continuous flow of emotion and thought, going in circles. He tried ignoring it, but as he grew conscious of it's presence it grew stronger.
Turning around to gain his bearings, he stopped and was startled by William sitting on the couch a few feet away. He took a pace back, not expecting to see him, and the man stood with a hand reaching towards him in a calming fashion.
"No, no. It's ok!" He said breathlessly. Damien took in the sight of his friend; the Colonel's hat and tan jacket were both missing, leaving him in his bright yellow shirt and red suspenders. In his hand he cradled his own cane, strangely enough. What was he doing with that? He was about to ask as much but the man took a pace forward.
"I thought you were dead…" He muttered, a shocked and relieved smile stuck on his face. Damien said nothing, unsure of what he could really say at this point. What could words do in a time like this? Words had played no part in this whole tragedy, this unfortunate series of events, nor would they be the solution. And so, he watched numbly as William continued muttering to himself, that crazed look in his eyes never waning.
A part of him wanted to reach out and comfort the man as he stumbled across the room towards the mirror. Celine, most likely. Perhaps feeling regret for leaving him. A part of her still loved the man, despite how things had ended between them. She still loved all of them, in her own way, but Damien wouldn't go through with her urge. It was best to let him be at this point.
"It was all a joke!" He cried into the empty manor. Laughing to himself in a way that couldn't be healthy, William stumbled back, almost tripping over his own feet. "Were you in on this? Did Damien put you up to this? Of course he did!"
The mayor swallowed the guilt as it welled up in his throat. Seeing William this way, it was…difficult. Despite his mistakes and flaws, he'd still been his friend. He'd never wanted any harm to befall any of the people he cared for, but there was nothing he could do for him now.
Celine cried out with pain, seeing the man she loved descend upon himself, collapse inwards from the inability to cope with the reality. Damien pushed her back again, standing there as William began bounding away towards the hall.
"Damien, where are you, you rapscallion?" He shouted into the stale morning air.
Damien closed his eyes, unable to stop the pang of sorrow at hearing his own name being called out in such a way. It was full of hope and fear, a combination that hit the very deepest part of his soul. At least, the part of his soul that had always belonged to him.
Turning numbly to look at his cane, he reached for it. When his fingers touched the wood, they curled around it in an unfamiliar way. The grip felt different. But slowly, before his eyes, the fingers shifted into what was once his own. The cane sat much more comfortably in his hand now.
All the buzzing in his head was growing oppressive. Celine and the attorney fought for control, or at least to put their word in. It was all too much, too much! More out of desperation than anything, he cracked his neck, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. Then, he snapped it the other way, and suddenly all was eerily quiet and still. A sigh escaped him, relieved to have ended all the stimuli.
Lifting his gaze to the mirror, he was surprised to see his own face staring back at him through the cracks. This had been the attorney's body, hadn't it? Why did it look like him? Was he only seeing what he wanted to see? Damien wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Between his own reflection, however, staring back at him through the cracks, were Celine and the attorney. Expressions of shock, fear, and then resentment. At least, on Celine's part. The attorney looked blank, as if they couldn't process what had happened. Damien himself wasn't quite sure how they'd been expelled from his head, but it was…freeing.
Alone with his own thoughts again, he remembered why they'd even joined together in the first place. Mark. He was out there, walking around in his own body, unpunished for all of the pain and grief and death he had caused. This manor's halls and rooms were tainted with the blood of the innocent, and the sorrow of those who'd trusted him. Damien's lip curled in anger at the thought. Mark, the man he'd once called friend, had betrayed them all for his own selfish and sick reasons.
Straightening his suit with a tug, not bothering affording the two other souls in the mirror a parting glance, he turned away, intent on finding the man that had tricked them all.
A/N- This story was so full of victims who'd also done wrong. You couldn't be sure whether to feel bad or as though the outcome was justified for their actions. But Damien (at least that we know) hadn't impacted the conflict through any of his actions. Yet, he is the one who becomes the villain in the end. A very strange and very exciting outcome indeed.
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