Chapter Text
Reality television gives you a few skills. A lot of those skills aren't conscious; they're tucked in your back pocket, changing the way you sit and the way you walk, rubbing a hole into the seat of your pants to expose your sweaty ass just as much as the cameras ever will. It's mostly about keeping yourself in line, always remembering what you say or what you do, biting your tongue because you're the big angry man everywhere you go, and you're mouthing off (justifiably, in your mind) to the type of young woman that goes on posters and will be featured on the cover of the season 1 DVD.
The coolest skill it ever gave Duncan was the ability to pick sounds out of silence. It wasn't like a game of operation, picking cleanly, identifying, it was the ongoing perception of the non-verbal narrative pulled up from a flat surface the way confectioners grab corn syrup— you know the way? Teasing it up like the Toffee Jabba the Hut from Candy Land and tossing it back and forth like a tennis ball?
He didn't know exactly what sound would have been playing when the boat of losers came back. But he knew which sound bites would be.
When Gwen locked eyes with Trent, he could smell whatever warm, chiming acoustic lick played on top of their Hey There, Delilah flavored reunion. All toasted marshmallows and Coca-Cola.
He didn't know quite what they would have had playing when Courtney smiled at him. They weren't so classic, he knew they would be played for edge and venom and the angle of corruption… Maybe something cheesy, something like harps and bells, or probably some creamy-dreamy brazenly pink and red hairband riff because pop culture has never understood the difference between punk music and mainstream classic rock. What he did know was that the football he had been passing back and forth with Owen socked him across the jaw in his moment of distraction, watching her move across the water on the yacht, the frontmost face in the crowd. There hadn't been time to greet her, but there had been time for her to wave, and there had been time for her to smile, which meant there hadn't been time for him to smile back, spending the whole moment buffering, looking like a dazed idiot, and rubbing his jaw while Owen called out an apology.
The boat hadn't yet come to dock when Chris came over the loudspeaker.
“Attention campers, would all contestants, present and former, convene at the campfire immediately. Thank you.”
So they were there. Courtney sitting beside him, DJ on his other side, Bridgette on hers.
Gwen was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the log, her hair over her eyes. “What do you think this one’s gonna be?”
“He did say the others were coming back for the finale… maybe he's doing it early.” Duncan shrugged, his eyes falling shut for just long enough to display his flippant expression before they opened again, nonchalantly, please, nonchalantly, so he could look back to Courtney. Yes! nonchalance achieved.
She wasn't smiling back this time, her eyes wandering across the horizon. “Where is Chris? Surely he would have told us what we were here for if he was doing the finale early. Or… at least shown up!”
He smirked, settling into his chance. “Chill, princess. It's a nice day. Enjoy it.”
“I was enjoying it just fine where I was.”
She crossed her arms and huffed, the way she always did, and he couldn't tell if she was truly peeved or if she was playing it up just to remind him what he had been missing so dearly… woof. To so accurately know he missed her whining.
Owen perked up, eyes wide, smile wider. “Where do they keep you guys, anyway? I thought you had to go all the way home.”
“Kokomo,” Noah parried back, his eyes unmoving from his page.
Lindsay leaned forward, her gushy voice rolled in blue glitter like always. “It’s so much more my style. It's a big pool, so much sun to tan, mocktails on the house… everybody just wears their swimsuit all the time, it's sooo gorgeous!”
Duncan smirked, glancing over to Courtney. “I'm guessing you've been relaxing for the first time in your life?”
That didn't exactly hit a nerve, but it crunched something, a weird twinge of nervousness dulling her gaze.
“At first, I was keeping up with my lawyers, getting good sleep… for some reason, they quit calling back. So… kind of haven't had a choice.”
“Your idea of fun… was keeping in touch with your lawyers?” Duncan huffed, smirking at her like usual, but behind that, his gray eyes softened just slightly, and his hand came to hers. Maybe it was reassurance. Maybe it was just flirtation. Either way, she took it.
And Chris made his way up.
He stood in front of the group with tired eyes and no smile, his TV expression long gone . He was a guy. Just a guy.
And that sent a shiver down everybody's spine.
His hands came up before his chest, like he was soothing a rabid animal, and his voice was level, calm, projected just enough for the crowd to hear him without alarming them. “I need you all to stay calm while I tell you what's going on. I need you all to listen carefully and to let me finish. I'll answer questions at the end.”
“Oh, boo. You're trying to scare us, just like the dumb horror movie night. Get on with it, ” Heather hissed, the way Heather always hissed.
But there was no sass when he replied. And that was worse. For once, he acted like an adult talking to a fussy teenager. He only took a measured breath, then maintained his tone.
“Heather, this is not for a challenge. Everybody, this is not a challenge, this is not a game, and I am telling the truth. I need everybody to understand that before I continue.”
The silence hung over their heads like a chandelier with two of the three chains snapped, their thin grasp on the situation cracking and falling around them like shards of crystal. Courtney's blood ran cold, Duncan could feel it in the way she tensed.
“Hey,” he whispered, to comfort her.
“Shut up,” she whispered back, leaning in for more of Chris’ instruction. Fair.
“The competition is over. Total Drama Island is ceasing production immediately. The Canadian government has declared a state of emergency in response to the spread of a deadly virus called HNRSV-5. The rest of the country has already started with workplace shutdowns and lockdowns to control the spread. The vast majority of the crew has already abandoned the project.”
He watched the faces of the campers for a moment, breathing evenly, his arms crossing. The skeptics. The scaredy-cats. The planners, already formulating survival behind their eyes.
“Because you are all from vastly different areas, we have been instructed to keep you on the island here rather than send you back to your homes. In some cases, it's to preserve you and keep you from getting infected. In other cases, it's because your current homes don't have anybody who can take care of you right now, and you're better off here. Some of your loved ones are in the hospital, trying to recover.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, trying to force the next few words up his throat. They came with a slight croak.
“Some of your loved ones have passed away. After this meeting, I'll talk with you all individually to discuss the status of your families, and-”
He was expecting a cacophony of chatter and terror. He had been ready to calmly hush that. But there was none.
Only one voice, cutting through the tension like a knife.
“What about mine?”
It wasn't as demanding as it usually would have been with Courtney.
It wasn't a sharp whine. It wasn't a shout. But what could he say? The girl knew how to command a room. His eyes drew to her, and he sighed.
“Courtney, like I said, I'll pull all of you aside individually to talk about that.” His eyes drifted over the crowd as he began again. “We'll receive biweekly deliveries of supplies and letters from loved ones, for those whose families send them. But we'll-”
“What about my family?” Courtney demanded again, her eyes reddening, her tone hardening. It made sense. She had the smallest family. Not the closest. Not the most precious. But the easiest to lose. Her, her single mother, and her grandmother, who came from the Philippines with nothing but a daughter and a satchel of hope. No bloodline. No aunts, no uncles, nothing to fall back on. It wasn't something that could be outweighed in pressure by Duncan's hand over her thigh; that became clear by the urgency with which she swept it away and demanded an answer once more.
“ Chris… Chris, please… do I have a family?” She asked once more, her high, wet little voice trembling and growing softer and softer.
It was the look in his eyes. That was all she needed.
Jesus, the scream was terrible. She shot from her seat, knees bent slightly as she produced an awful, raw wail that crumbled into a wrecking sob, her heart racing, her stomach churning, her eyes wide with shock, her trembling hands over her mouth, a wheezing squeak trailing each cry. Duncan rose to stand beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she shoved him away decisively.
“No. No, no— they can't— Oh, God—” she sobbed into her palms, before she gave another shattered scream, voice airy and cracking. This time, Duncan wouldn't let her shake away, disregarding the eyes of the others as he pulled her close to his body.
“Courtney, you have to breathe. Hey, you gotta breathe… Shit,” he tried to soothe her as she slipped down from his arms and fell to her knees in the dirt. There, he joined her, and she gave up on rejecting his outreach, burying her face in his collar and sobbing brokenly. She gripped his arms, and her sharp nails dug in deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough for him to notice the pain over the screaming girl in his arms. He enveloped her and rocked her so slightly.
“Courtney… I got you… you gotta breathe, princess, you gotta breathe. Sh… hey.”
When his hand came to the back of her head, she finally sucked in a panicked breath. Then a little whine, an air of false hope that she would ease…
Gone when she pressed her face into his chest and cried out against him once more.
Chris knelt down beside them, his expression cautious, one hand on Duncan’s shoulder and the other on Courtney's back. He watched the poor girl for a moment, then turned to Duncan, the way his gray eyes were fixed on her, his furrowed brow, his gruff otherwise-aloofness.
He spoke softly, like he was trying to sneak past Courtney's perception, and said only one sentence.
“I have to keep the others calm.”
Duncan turned, locked eyes with him, then nodded, tightening his arm around Courtney's back.
“Hey…” he whispered. “Princess, hey… we're gonna get you out of here.”
“No, no, no, no— no, no, no!”
“Yeah… we're gonna go get you some air, okay? We're gonna get you some air. Breathe. I've got you.”
This was met with a whine and more shivers and sobs, closed-mouthed and lower. But it was also met with just enough permissiveness that he could hoist her up, holding her beside him, and they trudged off somewhere.
Their two empty seats stood like a warning. A monument to the first crack in the peace. It had shattered so quickly.
The others watched them part with wide eyes, chewed lips, glances to friends, memories of loved ones, hands rubbed and picked, thoughts of lip gloss and nail polish and cell phones and school books and hacky sacks and weed stashes at home gone, a crowd of children who wanted their mothers and wanted even more to know who had those mothers left. Chris stood to answer them all.
“We're staying here because this camp is more suited for long-term living than the resort the losers were staying at. So… no complaining. I don't want to be here anymore, either. But we're in this together. We have to take care of each other now, and I know we can. We'll all have chores, strict routines to keep us from going nuts, camp games when we run out of stuff to do… and we are gonna do everything in our power to keep you safe. Look around. To your right, then your left.”
Some did. Some didn't.
“These are the people you are going to rely on for the next few months. They'll help you forage, hunt, and fish, they'll help you with first aid, they'll need your help in exchange, and you'll give it to them. And you're gonna like it. Cause you have to, or we'll all die of starvation and infections. Hopefully, this will all be over by November. If you were one of the four contestants left in the running, I'll talk privately with you about what we'll do to honor your prize once this is all over and you can go home. And since the show is over, all of the petty drama is, too. It's not helping anybody anymore. If you don't like somebody, start at ground 0. Any questions?”
Nobody wanted to ask. Nobody wanted to end up screaming in the woods… she was still going, the luckiest could hear. But it only took a moment to realize that silence is worse, so Gwen raised her hand.
“Yes, Gwen?”
She bit her lip. Her eyes flicked to Trent, who wasn't looking at her. That was a first. So back up to Chris they went as she spoke, voice shaky and cracked.
“You said this was gonna be over by November?”
“We're hoping so. But no promises.”
“So we might be here over winter.”
Chris nodded. “We'll make sure we have our supplies stocked up. We received a few handbooks we'll distribute; skills you need like first aid, food preservation, foraging, and ways to keep your mind sharp.”
Her crying was so far away and faint, now, but it captured the others’ attention far stronger than Chris could. He took a deep breath, then a deep sigh.
“C'mon, campers. Lunch.”
-
There was a wet spot on his shirt from her. It grew by the second.
He didn't know how she was still going. Unintelligible babbling, wailing, crying, all while he cradled her head against his chest. Cradled was the wrong word. Her hair was tangled with the pressure from his hand, in a twisted way, it seemed to be helping. She wasn't done, but she was stopping to breathe. Thank God.
“I want my mother, I- last time I talked to her, we fought , we fought about a boy and it was stupid and I want my mother ,” she managed to spit out.
“I know, princess… I know.”
“No, you don't. You don't know what this is like, Duncan!”
To be so enraged, so suddenly, at a man you're holding so tightly… the throes of grief.
He breathed deeply, rubbed her back, rested his cheek atop her head. “No, I don't. But…”
He faltered a moment. He couldn't say “I'm here.” It wasn't about him. She didn't want him. He couldn't say “I want to try.” See: previous, and also a total dick move. “You're not alone” wouldn't work. She wouldn't believe him.
“She wouldn't want… this. I know she always wanted you to be strong, you've told me. You've shown us all. She wanted you to be strong.”
“And how's she gonna police it this time?” She asked with a sniffle. “What's she gonna do if I'm not strong for once?”
“...damn. I guess you're right.”
But she stopped crying into his chest. She still wept, still shook, still sniffled, but the fight was over as his arm tightened around her and her big brown eyes drew up to him cautiously, waiting for his next words.
He gave them to her.
“You can do whatever you want. And if you don't wanna be strong… I'm here, okay? That's why I'm here right now. You only have to do one thing, okay? One thing.”
He watched the way her sweet little face twisted up, and couldn't help but curse himself at the way it left a little dent in his heart, teased the corners of his lips just slightly, the round of her cheeks at the little wince. He cupped her face, whispering to get her attention.
“ Hey. Just one thing,” he repeated, tilting her face towards him.
“ MmM?” She whimpered shakily.
“ Breathe. C'mon. Slow. In… out. Get your heart rate down or you'll be panicking forever.”
She sniffled, and obeyed aside from the involuntary spasms that accompanied her tears. “Not forever.”
“Some people really do panic forever. But not you. You're tough stuff.”
He swept some hair off her face, keeping it out of her mouth and out of her eyes. She pursed her lips, her eyes filling again at the affection.
“Stop being nice to me,” she protested, unable to smile.
“Fuckin’-... No.” He scoffed, then laughed just enough for it to be appropriate. “I do what I want.”
And then she did smile. Small. Weak. Instantly gone with the weight of the day. But she did. And Duncan brightened right back before both his strong arms came protectively around her.
“Settle in. I've got you... Yeah. I've got you."