Hidden Within (Markiplier Fanfiction)

Description
 At first glance, Mark Fischbach is your average, great looking guy. At least, that's what you see if you don't know his occupation. Mark is a YouTuber who, going by the name Markiplier, creates a variety of videos for the world to see in hopes of making peoples lives better. Now that you know this, would you still see him as average, or did this information boost him up a couple notches on the "normal-to-awesome" scale? Though just about every one of his fans see him as a savior, their white light at the end of the pitch black tunnel, he sees himself as just a guy who yells at a camera alone every day. But Mark isn't even your average YouTuber. He's something more. What, you ask? Well, no one knows, not even him. Until a girl who saves his life shows him what it is. We all have something special hidden within us, something that very few of us can see, that few can embrace. This something she shows him will change his life forever.

Quick authors note: I'll try to do few of these so you can enjoy my probably horrible story. I'll be mainly sticking to Mark's P.O.V., but every so often I'll throw in the girls P.O.V. Hers may be a bit confusing due to the fact that I want you guys to figure it out along with Mark, so bear with me. Cross my heart and hope to die, it'll all make sense soon. WARNING: These chapters may be long. By the way, for newbies, P.O.V. means Point Of View.

Chapter 1
    The hundreds of people rose their voices as I walked onto the stage. My heart was in my throat as I raised a hand in a wave. I'm still awed at all the people who have found me worthy enough to follow. I'm just a guy with a dream that games can change the world for the better. But these people have taken my small hope and transformed it into something possible. I am forever grateful for that, and they know it. Each and every day, I tell them how much they mean to me, how much they have saved me from, but I can't seem to thank them enough.
    I sighed quietly and grabbed the microphone from the long table set up on stage. I'm basically the only person who tries to interact with my fans on panels, running to them when they have questions instead of having them yell from across the room.
    I smiled and waved again, which had everyone screaming even louder than before. I held the mic close to my mouth and said, "Sound check, sound check. One, two, one two."
    And that's when my best friend from college spoke up and said into his own mic, "Mark, I believe three, four comes after one, two." The crowd of people laughed and turned to me, waiting for my response.
    I faced the man sitting at the table behind me. He had short brown hair that extended into a beard down his face. He had rather large ears that stuck out a bit and a lop sided smile that seemed to win everyone over, along with his light brown eyes that were alight with laughter. I gave him a playful glare and said, "Shut up, Wade! I know how to count!" This had everyone howling.
    Wade laughed. "You sure?"
    I pretended to be taken aback. "Of course I'm sure! This is kindergarden we're talking about!"
    "And isn't that the grade you flunked TWICE?" He snickered.
    I rolled my eyes and spun back to the crowd. I leaned forward and covered my mouth to hide the words I said next from Wade, but it didn't help that I spoke into the mic. "He actually flunked that, too. More than twice." I whispered.
    Wade glared at me and faced away with a "hmph," arms crossed.
    I laughed and walked over to give him a one armed hug. "Aw, I'm sorry, Wade. I didn't mean to share your failures with the lovely people here." Many people in the crowd laughed. I smiled again and extended an arm in greetings. "Hello, everybody! How are you all doing on this beautiful day?"
    The voices rose once again with answers, and I was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the sound. I paced to the other side of the stage and leaned out, hand cupping my ear and a questioning look on my face. "What? I didn't quite hear you. Could you please speak up?"
    This time, the noise was deafening and I held a hand up, palm down in a calm down gesture. They soon fell silent and I continued speaking, "Well, since I couldn't hear anyone answer my question, which is rather rude, we might as well move on." I said, faking the hurt I was showing.
    Many people laughed while others shouted, "We answered!" There was a pause between the voices and I heard Wade say, "All those times you blasted the sound in your headphones must have finally caught up to you."
    I whipped around to meet his gaze with a leveled glare. "Shut up, Wade! No one cares!"
    Wade simply chuckled and shook his head while the roar of the crowd came up again. I laughed, too. "I'm just kidding, Wade. You're cool." And then mumbled into the mic, "Not really."
    I heard Wade gasp and knew he'd be clutching his chest as if he had been shot, a hurt look on his face. I turned in time to see him slump over the table, as if he was dead, which got a great round of applause from the crowd.
    I chuckled and held an arm wide to welcome the audience. "Welcome to another Markiplier Panel! Again, I am deeply sorry for the people who couldn't get in because they had no passes, but I will still be here after the panel to talk with them outside in the square. We will be answering as many questions as possible. I have this," I held up my mic for them to see, "because I'm going to be running into you guys from all directions and confusing the cameras." I turned to Wade, who was now upright and smiling, and pointed. "Wade also has a mic to help out with questions. Bob couldn't make it because of law school." I made a face and spoke in a patronizing voice. "I guess Rhett couldn't get his dad to give Bob an A." The crowd laughed and I smiled. By the end of this, my face will be permanently stuck with a grin. I held up a hand and the laughter died immediately. "Now, we only have an hour to do this and I want to get as many of your questions answered, so let's begin!"
    All over the small square room, hands shot up along with excited voices. My heart swelled with guilt as I quickly ran off stage to begin picking people. I hated having to pick out of the hundreds of fans that showed up. I wish we just had more time, but I guess this is the price you pay.
    I ran to the right, all the way to the wall, and had to squeeze past some people to reach the person I had chosen. She was a woman with long dark hair and a picachu beanie who was sitting two rows from the front. She stood excitedly and I asked, "What's your name, ma'am?"
    She blushed as I held the mic for her to speak into. "Mary."
    I gave a big smile and brought the mic back to me. "Well, Mary, it's a pleasure to meet you. What is the question you would like to ask the Markiplier?"
    I gave her the mic again, but before she could speak, a single tear trailed down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and I felt great sadness to see her cry. Even though I don't know anything about her, just her name, I feel like I have a special connection with each of my fans and it just destroys me when they break down in tears because I feel like it's my fault they're crying.
    "Oh, no no no, don't cry. Please don't cry, not for me." I wrapped my arms around Mary in a hug.
    After a couple seconds, I let go and she hid her face from me. "I'm sorry, Mark. I told myself I wouldn't cry, but here I am, bawling like a baby." She said.
    I shook my head. "Don't apologize, it's fine." I gave another smile to prove it, and she smiled back. I held the mic out to Mary again and asked, "What was it that you wanted to know?"
    Mary blushed and wrapped a strand of hair round her finger, obviously a sign of nervousness. "I, uh, I actually d-didn't have a question. I-it's more like a, um, request?" She stammered.
    I heard Wade give a gasp of surprise, but ignored it, not wanting to offend Mary by switching from her to him. I widened my eyes and raised my eyebrows, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness by playing around. "What kind of request?" I asked.
    She blushed again and took out her phone. But before she could do anything else, I saw a white streak at the edge of my vision and screams began to fill the air.
    Mary eyes widened with fear and she, too, began screaming. Alarm flashed through me as I looked around, confused. WHAT IS GOING ON?
    Then I heard a grunt of surprise and a crash as someone fell behind me. I whipped around to see a man with a black baseball cap and a black hoodie struggling on the ground. I went to go help him, my hand extended and the words, "Are you okay?" on my lips before I saw the knife clutched in his right hand.
    He swiped it at my outstretched fingers, missing by a couple centimeters and I snatched it back quickly. Fear rose up inside me, for my fans safety more than my own. If one were to get hurt, I'd never forgive myself.
    The man tried to stand, but was yanked back down and I saw the reason why. A girl, maybe seventeen, dressed all in white with a hood covering her head, had her arms wrapped around his waist, preventing him from fully rising to harm anyone. By now, though, everyone had fled to the other side of the room, leaving just me, the man with the knife, and this girl.
    The man growled and, before I could stop him, brought the weapon down to stab her hand. Bright blood flowed out of the wound to drip down onto the carpet. She screamed in pain and fell back, allowing the man to stand above her, a wild grin on his face.
    I froze, horrified. I had just allowed an innocent girl to be hurt. This man wasn't even after her, he was after me. And yet here she is, defending me. She laid on the ground below the man, and I could now see that even her hair was white due to her hood slipping off. She had her hand cradled against her chest, a look of pain as well as defiance in her light brown eyes.
    I watched as the man raised the knife high, about to give the finishing blow, and I forced myself to move. I grabbed the hand that held the knife and gave it a twist, hearing bone snap and the man howled. The knife clattered to the ground and the man wrenched his now broken wrist out of my grasp and stumbled away.
    I followed him, my anger boiling over. THIS MAN HAS NO RIGHT TO COME IN HERE AND START HARASSING PEOPLE WITH KNIVES. From behind, I shoved him and he slammed into the wall with a groan. He started sliding down it, but I grabbed his arms with one hand to pin him up while wrapping the other around his neck.
    "Who do you fucking think you are, you bastard? What do you think gives you the fucking right to come in here and threaten the lives of hundreds of people?" I hissed, my face right in his. I wasn't going to kill him. He didn't kill anyone, just wounded, and I already hurt his hand as he did the girls'. AN EYE FOR AN EYE drifted through my mind, and I knew he's already paid up.
    But my fury won over my common sense and I tightened my grip. The man began to struggle, desperately trying to escape. He kicked my legs repeatedly as he gasped for air, but I ignored the pain. I would've killed him if I hadn't heard the click of the bullet sliding into the barrel and felt the cold metal against the back of my head.
    "Release your grip," demanded a voice. It belonged to a man, its sound too deep to be a woman. But it also sounded oddly detached, like whoever was speaking wasn't really there. That didn't exactly scare me, but the fact that he controlled whether I lived or not did. I slowly released my grip on the mans throat, then did the same with his arms. He collapsed to the ground, coughing and sputtering as he crawled away from me.
    I felt a pang of regret as I saw the fear in his eyes. Our struggle had knocked off his cap, so I could see his face clearly. But then I saw the hate behind the terror, and all my sympathy melted like cold snow in the summer sunshine. HE DESERVED IT. The man then stood and stumbled toward the exits.
    There was a small twinge of pain from behind as the gun dug into my head. The odd voice said, "Put your hands on your head and turn slowly."
    I felt the pressure of the guns' muzzle leave and lifted my hands to my head. I debated running, but that would result in either my fans' deaths or my own. So, I spun cautiously to face the man who held my life in his hands.
    The mans brown hair was shaved off in an army style buzz cut, and he had ruthless brown eyes so dark, they looked black, giving the effect of one giant pupil. His mouth was set in a grim line, and I could see his teeth were clenched due to the knots on either side of his square jaw. He had the gun grasped in both hands, aimed at my chest. One pull of the trigger, and I'm gone. Buh-bye, curtain closed, no encore.
    I glanced behind him and let out a quiet sigh of relief. It seems everyone was able to get out, but what about that girl? I couldn't risk looking over. If she was still there, I'd put her in danger of being shot by this man.
    I returned my attention to him, who continued to stare at me. I looked back with a glare, challenging him. Which might not be a good idea considering who had the upper hand. But I did anyway, because I don't want him to see fear, but determination and defiance.
    That's when he decided he had enough, because he smiled coldly and said, "I'll see you in hell, Lost One."
    LOST ONE? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? But I couldn't question the name any longer, because the rest of the phrase sank in. And for the first time since I realized there was a gun trained on me, I felt fear. A mind numbing fear that froze my movements and closed my throat, so all I could do was watch as the man pulled the trigger.
    I closed my eyes and braced myself for the sound of the explosion, for the pain when the bullet hit. But it never came. The only thing I heard was a click as the gun jammed, the sirens of distant rescue teams, and the only thing I felt was the body of someone over me.
    Surprised, I opened my eyes and looked down to see the girl in white. She had her head down, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands splayed on the walls on either side of me. I blinked, bewildered. You'd think she would've gone with the others when they had escaped. But here she is, willing to take a bullet for me. I didn't deserve that.
    The man cursed and started smacking the gun, which made her lift her head slowly. Her hair brushed the bottom of my chin with this action, sending an odd little spark of electricity through me. She met my surprised gaze with one of her own, and I could notice the light green that accented the brown in her eyes, though her left had more than her right. I could see fear in them, but I also saw determination and an unexpected calm. My own gaze must show the terror coursing through me, and I wondered at why she stayed. "Why are you still here? You have to go while his gun isn't working. I don't want you to get hurt." I whispered.
    The girl shook her head.  "No, I can't leave you. It's...it's too complicated to explain right now, but you just have to trust me." Her voice had a musical note to it, and the way she spoke with quiet tones made it sound as if she were singing.
    I glanced behind her to see the man still struggling to fix his gun. "Go now. While you're still able to." My fear for her slipped into my voice, and the girl gave a reassuring smile. I blinked again in surprise. HOW CAN YOU SMILE AT A TIME LIKE THIS?
    Suddenly, she whipped around to face the man, who was still trying to fix his gun. I then noticed her bandaged left hand, the one where she had been stabbed. And by the looks of her jacket, which was missing sime cloth on the bottom, I'd say she wrapped it herself. I felt a sense of admiration for this unknown girl. If I had been jabbed in the hand with a knife, I would have been rolled in a ball crying in the corner. I also wouldn't know what to do with it because hey, I'm no doctor. I'm only a doctor in games, and even then I have no idea what to do.
    My thoughts were short lived though, because the man gave a triumphant growl and brought the gun back up. Fear shot through me and I was about to pull the white haired girl behind me, but she was already gone.
    I shouted a strangled, "No!" But I could only watch in horror as she ran right up to the man, who was as surprised as I was. But he recovered quickly and pulled the trigger, the loud bang causing me to flinch with a startled shout. From the look of pleasure on the mans face and the small gasp of pain from the girl, I knew the bullet hit its target. The girl started to fall, and I hadn't realized I'd moved until I was gently lowering her to the ground.
    The man gave a cold laugh, and I glared up at his black eyes. He had the gun trained on me once again, but the sound of sirens and running feet made him freeze. He spun and sprinted to the backstage exits where his friend had escaped through, leaving me alone with the girl in white.
    She moaned softly, and I looked down to meet her unevenly coloured eyes. They were glazed over with pain, yet they still showed that same unexpected calmness as they met mine. WHY? WHY YOU AND NOT ME? She was surprisingly light as I cradled her against my chest, her small form curled around her hands as she put pressure on her side. So much blood stained her white clothes, and it was all because of me. If I had tucked her behind me as soon as his gun had jammed, I would've been the one in his line of fire. I should be the one with the bullet in my side, not this girl.
    "Why?" I asked quietly. "Why didn't you leave when you had a chance?" I hadn't known I was crying until a tear fell on her face. She reached a hand up, her expression one of agony, and wiped away the other from my cheek.
    "You needed protection, Mark. And I was the only one to provide it. The others would have gotten here too late." She whispered, her voice choked with pain.
    I shook my head and grabbed her hand, gently guiding it back to her side. "Others? What do you mean, others? I can't be so important that there's some squad of bodyguards trailing me...am I?" The girl opened her mouth to answer, but I quickly held a finger to her lips before she could say anything. "You shouldn't talk, save your strength. Don't move, either. It would only cause you to lose more blood." I told her.
   Just then, the doors banged open, allowing many officers to flood in, all of them yelling for us to get on the ground.
    Anger and fear flowed through me, anger towards their blindness and fear for this girls life. CAN THEY NOT SEE? WE ARE UNARMED AND THERE IS A GIRL WITH A BULLET IN HER SIDE! USE YOUR HEADS, GODDAMMIT! I started shouting out of frustration when they still didn't see our situation. "Get a doctor or someone! There's a girl who's been shot and needs medical attention!" My voice cracked as fresh tears ran down my face and I turned back to the girl. Her eyes had closed fully, and fear turned my blood to ice as I placed a hand on her cheek. She flinched at my touch and opened her eyes, but only halfway. "Hey." I whispered. "Stay with me, okay? The paramedics are on their way to get you to a hospital, but you need to stay awake, okay?"
    She nodded, but her eyelids drooped even lower. I could see her struggling to keep them open, and I spoke to her in soothing tones to give her something to focus on. I didn't know if it helped, but it was all I could do for her.
    She started to lose conscious, and that's when I started crying even harder. I buried my face in her shoulder. "Why?" I asked again. "Why you and not me? Why didn't you listen?"
    I wasn't expecting an answer because I thought she was gone already, but I heard her faint whisper as she said, "Because you are far more important than you realize."
    I raised my head and met her calm eyes, now a bright green from her tears, and gently wiped one away that trailed down her cheek. "You're wrong. I'm just an average guy doing average things. Why would you're life be more important than mine?"
    She smiled softly and whispered, "You'll understand soon, Lost One." Then her eyes closed completely. I knew she was still alive from the rapid beating of her heart against my chest, but it was a faint flutter. LOST ONE...AGAIN WITH THAT NAME. COULD SHE AND THE GUNMAN BE CONNECTED SOMEHOW? I shook my head. NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO FIGURE IT OUT.
    I heard the wheels of a stretcher and then saw a man crouch down in front of me. He held his arms out and said, "Sir, I'm going to need to get her on the stretcher. If you could let me take her..."
    I shook my head, still looking at the girl. "I'll do it. I'm already holding her and I don't want to cause her anymore pain." The truth was, I didn't want to let her go. Not after what had just happened. So I rose slowly and tried my best to put her down gently, but she still whimpered in pain. Another tear slipped down my cheek and I walked with her to the ambulance, watching as they loaded her in the back. I sat with her and held her hand as we raced to the hospital.