Work Text:
“Fred,” Roger whispered to Freddie early on a sunny and bright March morning. He gave his partner a gentle shake to wake him. “I’ve got something to show you.”
Freddie rolled over, then opened his eyes slowly. “This couldn’t have waited? I was having the best of dreams,” he grumbled, then sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Roger shook his head. “No, you’ll get over it when I show you,” he said, then grabbed Freddie’s arm and pulled him from the bed.
“Alright, okay, I’m coming. Give me a minute, eager,” Freddie said, then caught his balance after being unceremoniously yanked from his warm cocoon of blankets.
“Come
on
!” Roger urged, tugging Freddie’s arm a little harder. He pulled Freddie into the bathroom and stood next to the vanity, his hands on his hips with a proud look on his face.
Freddie looked at him. “Alright? Did you make in the toilet or something?” He asked.
Roger rolled his eyes, then pointed to the vanity. “Look under the tissue, you knobhead.”
“Okay, no need to be hostile about it,” Freddie said, then picked up the tissue that so perfectly laid on the vanity. It took him a second to process what he was seeing there. When it registered that the things sitting there were three positive pregnancy tests, Freddie all but leapt into the air. “You’re joking!”
Roger laughed. “No, this is really happening. I wanted to wait to tell you until I confirmed it with a doctor, but I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
Freddie pulled Roger into his arms and squeezed him, pressing kisses all over his face. “You’re amazing! I can’t believe it,” he said, then pulled away to look at Roger. “We’re really going to be parents?”
“Unless all three of those are defective, then yeah.” Roger smiled at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Freddie responded between kisses to Roger’s lips.
Throughout his pregnancy, Freddie could tell Roger was happy, but there were times when he noticed that his partner seemed a bit paranoid. As if there was something or someone watching him. Freddie never brought it up, as he didn’t want to make Roger self-conscious. He just chalked it up to Roger’s hormones and protective parental instincts.
It proved to be a somewhat difficult pregnancy---Roger was sick for a good portion of it, and he was in a considerable amount of pain as well. “It’s just temporary, Fred. Don’t worry about me,” he’d say each time Freddie voiced his concern. Though Freddie was aware Roger knew something was wrong.
On the cold Halloween night that their daughter was born, Freddie felt as though something was off. Labor had been particularly rough on Roger, and by the time Gwendolyn was born, Roger had lost a lot of blood. Freddie had never seen someone so pale before, nor had he seen anyone look as weak as Roger did the moment their new daughter was set on his chest. The energy in the room felt dark, as if something bad was bound to happen.
Roger looked up at him with hollow eyes, looking incredibly tired out from the whole process. “It’s getting dark, and I’m so cold,” he said, then started to turn blue around the lips.
Before Freddie knew it, the heart monitor flatlined and he was shoved out of the room by a nurse. His heart was racing as he processed what had just happened in that room. Roger, the love of his life, had died right before his eyes on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of their lives. He backed into the wall and let out a sob as he slid down to the floor and buried his face into his hands. How was he supposed to live without Roger? How was he supposed to raise their daughter without him? It all seemed so impossible.
He sobbed and cried until he heard the door open again. “Freddie?” A nurse said, then knelt down next to him. “We stabilized him. I don’t know how, but he’s going to pull through.”
Freddie pulled his face away from his hands and looked at the nurse, his eyes bloodshot from crying so hard. “Do you mean… he’s okay?” He asked.
When the nurse nodded, Freddie’s heart soared. He felt as though a weight was lifted from his chest knowing that their daughter would have both of her daddies in her life. Once he pulled himself from the ground, he went back into the room to see Roger propped up on some pillows. Even though he had a bit more color to his face, Roger still looked incredibly weak, but he was awake. Freddie approached him and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Roggie,” he said, then brushed back his still-damp hair.
Roger responded with a grunt.
For some reason, Freddie could tell that Roger seemed different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something undeniably wrong with him. Perhaps it was because he nearly died only moments earlier? I suppose that could change a person , he thought. “Where’d they take the baby?” He asked. “Is she okay?”
“She’s okay— she’s just having her vitals checked. All is fine,” a nurse promised.
Freddie looked at Roger again, then gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Did you hear that? Gwen’s okay,” he said.
Roger just nodded, then shifted a bit and made a face. “Feels weird,” he mumbled.
“What feels weird?” Freddie asked, brushing his fingers over Roger’s cheek. “Not having a baby inside of you anymore?” He asked.
“No, this whole body. It feels strange,” he said.
The way Roger phrased that did make Freddie wonder, but he shrugged it off. Roger had a difficult day, after all, and was probably quite tired. “Why don’t you get some rest, Rog? I bet you’re ready to get some shut-eye. I’ll wake you when Gwen is back here and needs a feeding or something,” he said.
With that, Roger adjusted the pillows and rolled over to lay down on his side.
Freddie found it a bit weird that for some reason, Roger seemed so uninterested in their daughter. When they were expecting her, Roger had been practically bursting with excitement to become a parent. Clearly, something had changed after she was born. Freddie decided to ignore it and take a nap in the armchair near the bed. He laid his head back against the stiff headrest of the chair and closed his eyes.
When he was awoken, it was because a nurse came in with their baby. Freddie stretched, then went over to her bassinet and brushed her fingers over her soft cheek. “Your daddy gave us quite the scare, didn’t he?” He crooned, then carefully scooped her into his arms. “Everything’s fine now, Gwen. You don’t need to worry. Daddy’s doing much better.” He looked over to Roger’s sleeping form. For some reason, Freddie couldn’t quite place what was wrong with him. “I think once he’s had some rest, he’ll be happy to see you,” he told her, then pressed his nose into her soft, downy hair.
Freddie found that Gwen was an easy baby for him, once they brought her home. Oddly, however, Roger couldn’t seem to form any sort of bond with her. And Gwen seemed to be scared of him. She only settled down when Freddie held her and cuddled with her, never when Roger tried to take care of her. Yet somehow, it didn’t seem to faze Roger at all. He just put up with her screams while he changed her or bathed her. He never fed her—when he did that, she screamed and cried to the point where she would become sick all over herself and Roger.
As she got older, that fear seemed to dissipate, though she and Roger were still not close at all. To Freddie, most of the time it seemed as though they just tolerated one another.
In bed one night, a few months after Gwen’s first birthday, Freddie rolled over onto his side and put his arms around Roger, then kissed his neck. “Ahoy, sailor,” he said, pressing his hips against Roger’s backside.
Roger pulled away from Freddie and rolled over to face him. “Do you really think I want to have another kid, Freddie? I nearly died last time!” He hissed.
Freddie scooted back a few inches and looked at Roger. “You used to say that you wanted at least two children. We agreed on that, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, well, things change. I’m not doing that again.”
Freddie sighed as Roger rolled to face the opposite wall again. “Alright,” he murmured, then rolled onto his other side so he could face the wall. “Goodnight, I love you,” he said, then closed his eyes. While he understood that Roger didn’t want more kids after what happened last time, it still stung for Freddie.
“Yeah, love you too,” Roger responded, though it sounded hollow.
As Gwen got older, Freddie noticed that she continued to react strangely to Roger’s presence. It was clear that she didn’t like being around him very much, especially when they were alone with one another. Freddie also noticed that Gwen spent an awful lot of time with her imaginary friend. His mother assured him that it was perfectly normal for children her age to have imaginary friends, so he didn’t worry too much about it.
Eventually, Freddie decided to ask Gwen about her imaginary friend. “So, what’s your imaginary friend’s name?” He asked as he did her hair before nursery school one day.
“Roger,” she said.
Roger didn’t look up from the book he was reading, but the flicker of worry that crossed his face did not go unnoticed by Freddie.
“What does he look like, lovely girl?” Freddie asked, then patted her shoulders to let her know he was done doing her hair.
Gwen looked at Freddie, then at Roger and pointed at him. “Only my friend is dead,” she explained. “He says he died when I was born, but he knows me all of my life. He says he’s my guarding angel.”
“Guardian angel,” Freddie corrected, then glanced at Roger, then back to Gwen. “So your imaginary friend is Daddy?” He asked.
“No, it’s Roger. Roger isn’t Daddy,” she said. “He says Daddy is a monster.”
Roger let out a slightly nervous laugh. “I might be scary sometimes, Gwen, but I’m no monster. It sounds like your imaginary friend is very silly,” he said.
Freddie knew better than to put stock into what a four-year-old was saying, but Roger’s nervous laugh gave him pause. “That’s very interesting, Gwennie,” he said, then kissed her cheek. “Let’s get going, shall we? I’m sure you don’t want to be late,” he said. With that, he scooped the girl into his arms and gave Roger a quick kiss on the cheek and left.
That conversation between himself and Gwen often played back over and over again in Freddie’s head. He didn’t ever remember telling Gwen about the day she was born and how Roger almost died. It seemed odd that her imaginary friend was Roger. He didn’t know what to do about it. Certainly, he couldn’t talk to Roger about it—he knew that Roger would just continue to deny that anything was wrong, and he wouldn’t acknowledge Gwen’s imaginary friend.
Through the years, Freddie noticed that Gwen didn’t seem anywhere near getting rid of her imaginary friend. As she got into her teenage years, though, Freddie noticed that she only talked about him as though he came to her in dreams. He shrugged it off—it seemed to make sense. This imaginary Roger had been a big part of Gwen’s childhood, as she’d struggled to make friends.
One night, as he slept, Freddie found himself in a dream. It was a place he’d never seen before, but Roger was there. It was striking—Roger looked older than he did in the waking world. Though the more Freddie thought about it, the more he realized that the waking world Roger hadn’t seemed to age a day since Gwen was born. It was odd to him, as Gwen’s fifteenth birthday was right around the corner and they were both in their early forties.
“Rog… You look so different,” he said.
Roger had a look on his face that Freddie had never seen before. “You’ve noticed that your Roger hasn’t aged, haven’t you?” He asked.
Freddie furrowed his brows. “Uh… I guess so?” He responded. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, though. Aren’t you Roger?”
The older Roger sighed. “Freddie… I died the day Gwen was born,” he told him. “When I said it was getting dark and I was cold, I meant I was dying. I bled out that day.”
“I don’t understand. You’re still in my life,” Freddie said.
“No, you aren’t understanding. The Roger in your life isn’t me, Fred. That Roger is a monster. He possessed my body the moment I died.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve been trying to get through to you for years, my love. It wasn’t until just now that I was able to. I’ve been telling Gwen that I’m her real dad for years now,” he said. “And I’ve been looking after her and getting to know her. She’s—she’s an incredible girl.”
“She is,” Freddie agreed, then paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, though. How can I trust you? How do I know you’re not the real monster?”
“Freddie, please tell me you noticed all the weird things about the ‘living’ Roger all these years. He hasn’t aged a day since Gwen was born, Gwen was always so scared of him as a baby—and I’m sure you saw those far away looks she’d get sometimes. She was looking at me because I was talking to her and making sure she knew me,” he said. “And the fact that he behaves so strangely when you watch horror films? That’s not normal. You know how much I love horror.”
As Roger spoke, it felt as though Freddie’s world came crashing down around him. “What am I supposed to do about this?” He asked. “I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”
“You have to kill him. He poses a danger to you and to Gwen. I don’t know why he hasn’t tried to attack either of you yet, but it’s too dangerous to let him stay alive.”
“But then I lose you. Or what I have left of you, anyway. I can’t do that,” Freddie murmured. The thought of losing Roger terrified him, even though he now knew that the Roger who existed in his life was not his true love. “I’m not ready to lose you.”
Roger gave Freddie an apologetic look. “You’ll still have me. In your memories, in Gwen, and in your dreams.” He leaned over and gave Freddie a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll always be there.”
As soon as his dream started, it was over. Freddie woke with a start, then looked over to Roger’s spot on the bed only to find him sitting there, awake and staring at him.
“It seems like you were having quite the dream,” the younger Roger said.
Freddie stared at him for a second, then nodded. “It was something,” he responded. “Are you going to sleep?”
“Eventually.” Roger leaned over and kissed Freddie’s neck, giving it a gentle nip. It felt sharper than usual.
“Whoa, easy tiger. I’m going to get some water,” Freddie said, then got out of bed. The sharp teeth were enough to scare him. Was this Roger really a monster? What the Roger in his dream had said made sense. He found himself trembling as he walked to the kitchen. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew he had to. He had to kill this monster. There was a feeling deep inside of him that knew something was going to go wrong soon if he didn’t take care of it.
In the kitchen, he went over to the knife block and looked at the knives. He took in a deep, shaking breath, then grabbed the biggest, sharpest chef’s knife on the block. He knew he had to take care of this. Hiding it behind his back, he headed back upstairs to the bedroom.
Roger was laying on his side, clearly fast asleep.
Freddie took one last look at Roger’s sleeping form. The way his long eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered from side to side reminded Freddie of how beautiful he was. His slow, even breaths as he slept haunted Freddie as he drew the knife from behind his back. As he plunged the knife into the monster’s back, he let out a sob. He felt so horrible that he was doing this to Roger. His Roger, who hadn’t changed. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t the real Roger. That this was a monster that posed a threat to his family.
The monster woke with a horrible shriek and began thrashing. As it thrashed, it began to morph into something horrible. Something Freddie had never seen before.
He pulled the knife out and plunged it into the monster’s chest, right above its heart. It struggled for a moment, then stopped moving. As it took its final breath, it shuddered and turned to dust.
Freddie dropped the knife and let out another sob. He covered his face with his hands and cried, only pulling away when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He looked up. It was the Roger he saw in his dream.
“You did it, Freddie,” the ghost said in a soft voice. “He can’t hurt you or our daughter now.” He leaned forward and touched his cold, dry lips to Freddie’s forehead, then began to fade away.
“Wait—” Freddie said, his voice shaking. But it was too late. Roger’s spirit was already gone.
He looked at the pile of dust that sat on the floor and wiped his eyes. How would he live in a world without Roger? Even the monstrous thing that possessed Roger’s body was enough to keep him going. Now, he wasn’t sure what he had to live for. He looked at the knife that laid atop the pile of dust. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he picked up the knife and held it. No , he thought , I have to be here for Gwen. He dropped the knife.