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They were both absolutely shitfaced.

Following a hard day at the hospital, during which he’d lost a terminal patient, Doctor Daniel Cain wanted nothing more than several stiff drinks. But he hadn’t expected Herbert to join him. Dan didn’t think he’d ever seen Herbert West drink so heavily, if he drank at all. His normally sallow face was bright red. But aside from the slurred language and clumsy mannerisms, he somehow maintained that emotionally restricted air of his.

They’d been discussing potential next phases of experimenting with the reagent. Cain had mostly been letting West ramble, enjoying the numbing distraction the conversation and alcohol created.

“Daniel,” Herbert said after another sip of bourbon.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever thought about,” he paused, furrowing his brow. “Thought about…damn. It’s gone.”

Dan snorted, sipping his drink.

“Ah yes. Have you ever thought about us having a child?”

Were Daniel not so drunk, he likely would have choked on his booze. He considered this, and finally laughed. “We

have

a child. She’s six feet tall, made of dead body parts, and lives in the back room. The fuck are you even talking about, Herb?”

West pursed his lips and looked away, rubbing a palm across his mouth. “Just something,” he shrugged languidly, “I dunno. Crossed my mind.”

Dan, drunk as he was, still looked at Herbert like he’d said he wanted a second head. “Don’t…don’t take this the wrong way, Herb,” he blinked slowly, “but you’ve never struck me as the parental type.”

Herbert ignored this. “You had discussions with Meg. About wanting kids someday. Desiring to be a father.”

“Why am I not even surprised you eavesdropped on our private conversations?”

“Regardless, I can’t help but think our lifestyle is impeding your want for offspring. And I have noticed how you look at nuclear families that pass through the hospital. The children, specifically.”

“I am…far too drunk for this topic,” he said, taking another swig of his drink to prove it.

“I want you to have what you want, Daniel. If a family is something you still want.”

This was new. Since when did Herbert

ever

care about Dan’s wants? He decided not to open that can of worms; they’d surely start fighting, and ruin what had been thus far a fairly pleasant evening.

Instead, he said, “Fine, I’ll humor you. Pray tell, how would we even acquire said child?”

“We could make one. Like we did with Elsa. Just with…smaller pieces.”

Dan gave him a disgusted look, “I am

not

going to defile the grave of

any

child.”

“Merely a thought. Your reservations aside, that would likely be quite difficult to do. Their corpses are far more carefully guarded. One would notice if the ground was disturbed or if a body went missing from the morgue. And with separation of the children’s hospital down the street from Miskatonic-”

Herbert noticed the sickened expression on his partner’s face, and decided to change tactics.

“Well, loathe as I am to admit it, reanimation may be out of the question for this particular endeavor.”

“Then what if we got a surrogate or something? Money clearly isn’t an issue; we hardly spend anything we make as it is.”

West opened his mouth, then closed it again, hesitating. “How would we explain…us?”

“We’re…work colleagues,” Dan smirked, “who happen to live together.”

“And wish to rear a child?” Herbert raised an eyebrow.

“For a certain amount of money, a surrogate might ignore whatever we ask her to,” Dan reasoned, then blinked rapidly. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“It could be our next experiment. We don’t necessarily need an outside woman in order to have a child.”

Dan scowled. “I refuse to put Elsa through that!”

“Elsa isn’t the only person in this house with the capability to carry a baby.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and he scoffed, “You really

are

drunk. Besides, aren’t your parts…decommissioned, or whatever?”

“Hormones would need to be discontinued for a time, but,” Herbert looked away, “it wouldn’t be an impossibility.”

Cain looked flabbergasted. “You’re

serious?

‘Cause, Herb, this is a big deal. I mean, making Elsa was one thing, but a

baby

? Would you even be comfortable putting your body through that?”

West set his jaw, still not looking at Dan. He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking this over for some time.”

In hindsight, Dan realized he shouldn’t have humored Herbert. But they were both incredibly wasted, Dan was sure the idea would die at the conversation stage. West would never put his own body on the line for something like this.

So at this, Daniel drained the rest of his glass. “Alright, if you think you can handle it, knock yourself up…um, ‘out.’ Be my guest.”

By the next morning, Daniel had completely forgotten their conversation.

Until it was too late.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

(Several Weeks Later)

Doctor Daniel Cain paused in front of his front door, bracing himself for what awaited him inside. He’d been gone for just a few days, away at a medical convention, but usually a few days was all his roommate needed to start World War III. The roommate in question, Doctor Herbert West, had somehow managed not to burn their house down while Dan was away.

Small favors.

Letting himself inside, he was again surprised that the house was not a complete wreck. West hadn’t dusted, perhaps -though neither of them were particularly good at basic upkeep- but everything was still in its place and in one piece. Cain couldn’t smell smoke or rotting flesh, both good signs, but also suspicious ones.

It’s too quiet in here.

He wondered if Herbert was at the hospital. It was hard to tell, as West didn’t own a car (Dan wondered if he even had a license) and relied on either carpooling with Dan or taking the bus to get to work. But no, it was Saturday. Neither of them worked on the weekends.

Daniel walked upstairs to his bedroom, peering into Herbert’s as he passed. Empty. And shockingly clean, like the man hadn’t slept there in a while. The door of Elsa’s bedroom was cracked, and she grunted happily as Dan gave her a wave. He poked his head into the room. The creature sat on her bed, fiddling with a Rubik's cube. Dan had bought it when the fad started up, and Herbert, unable to solve it, passed it on to Elsa. She’d already solved it several times over, much to her creator’s embarrassment.

“Hey, Els. Where’s, uh, where’s Herb?”

She splayed her hands in an “I don’t know” position. "Lab?"

“Got it,” Daniel sighed.

He left her to her own devices. Cain dropped his bags on the floor of his room, then decided the basement was the next place to visit.

“Herbert?” he called down the basement staircase, trying to get a response, but also to warn West of his presence.

The basement, like the rest of the house, remained silent. A sense of unease washed over him. He clipped down the stairs, throwing caution to the wind, and shoved the basement door open. Herbert was at one of the several lab tables, passed out, head resting on the surface. Dan could see the slow rise and fall of his back, indicating breath, and he relaxed.

This made sense. With Cain being away for the week, and no one there to force Herbert to eat or sleep, he likely worked himself until his body gave out. His brain probably overheated, like a taxed computer, and he shut down.

Daniel walked up to him, and lightly pressed a hand to his shoulder. Herbert sat straight up, causing Dan to jump back in alarm. West squinted at Cain, then fumbled for his glasses strewn carelessly on the table.

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Cain said flatly.

“Well, yes, but I was referring to the date.”

“Herbert, it’s Saturday. I said I’d be back Saturday.”

West’s eyes narrowed, and he scrabbled for a desk calendar. After a moment of scrutiny, he said, “Oh. So you did.”

Herbert slowly stood from the stool, and turned to face Dan. Cain opened his arms for a hug, for any semblance of an “I missed you, welcome home.” Instead, Herbert hesitated, sniffed the air, and gagged.

“Uh…missed you, too?”

“What is that god awful smell, Daniel?” He said, gagging again.

Dan had no idea what Herbert was talking about, assuming he wasn’t referring to the permanent scent of decay that permeated the basement. Cain smelled his sleeve. “The only thing I smell is my cologne. But I wear it every-”

Herbert pushed past him, hand clamped over his mouth. He practically threw himself into the basement bathroom, head in the toilet. Herbert vomited profusely.

Dan leaned in the doorway. “Rough week?”

“Just a bug,” Herbert said weakly, before more digested foodstuffs came back up.

“When’s the last time you had a decent meal?”

Herbert groaned, “Please…don’t bring up…food.”

Daniel crouched next to his partner, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
The man continued to retch until nothing else came up. Then he slumped against the wall, removing his glasses and wiping his perspiring brow. Dan stood up, but caught a look of panic in Herbert’s eyes. 
“Don’t leave-”
“I’m just getting you some water. Two seconds.”

Dan looked for a glass, but reluctantly settled on a clean-looking beaker. The classic lab safety rule “don’t use equipment as drink ware” didn’t seem to apply in the Cain-West household. Not with as often as they did dishes (rarely).

Daniel returned to his partner, handing him the tap water. “Drink slowly. It’ll come right back up, otherwise.”

“Thank you,” Herbert said, a rare display of gratitude.

“Have you been outside the lab at

all

since I left?”

“Of course,” Herbert scoffed. “I had to go to the hospital, didn’t I?”

“Let me rephrase that,” Dan sighed, “when is the last time you had a full night’s sleep? Some fresh air?”

“What year is it?” Herbert smirked.

Daniel wanted so badly to slap the shit-eating grin off his partner’s face. But he didn’t necessarily want to kick Herbert when he was already down.

“Daniel, you know with my usage of the diluted reagent that sleep isn’t necessary for me. And, as I’ve mentioned before, with the collapse of the basement’s connection to the mausoleum, I’ve had to make outdoor trips to the cemetery for supplies.”

Dan cringed at the word “supplies.” He knew Herbert had really meant “corpses” or “body parts.”

“Okay, that settles it. You need time

away

from work.” He hauled West to his feet, the man still looking paler than usual. Frowning, Dan felt his forehead. It wasn’t feverish, but cold and clammy. “This bug, it’s not the flu, is it? Anything contagious? God forbid we both get sick.”

West mutely shook his head. Dan didn't know why, but he got the sudden feeling Herbert was keeping something from him. But he was tired from the trip home, so he decided not to press the matter right then and there.

“Alright, well, let’s still go upstairs. Get you and Elsa some breakfast. Want eggs or some toast?”

But Herbert heaved again, and threw himself back on the ground, clutching the toilet.

Dan sighed, annoyed, “Toast it is.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Daniel scooped a helping of spaghetti onto a small plate and set it on the table. Elsa eyed it hungrily, but Dan held up a finger. 
“Lemme grab Herbert, okay? You can eat when he gets here.”

She cast him a pouting look, but sat back in her chair.

It was a 50/50 shot of whether Herbert would actually dine with his housemates. Even before his current bouts of nausea (which, in Dan’s opinion, didn’t seem to be lessening), he often wouldn’t partake in scheduled meals. West regularly concocted various excuses as to why he couldn’t join them, but it usually boiled down to the workaholic’s reluctance to leave the lab.

“Herb! Dinner!” Daniel called downstairs.

No response. Not exactly surprising. Cain sighed and started down the steps. At least he kept in shape going up and down stairs all day long. The door to the lab was shut and Dan pounded on it.

“Herbert, c’mon! I made spaghetti.”

After being ignored a second time, Dan pulled the door open. Herbert stood at one of the tables, his back to the door. He peered over his shoulder at Dan, then distractedly turned back to what he was doing.

“Daniel…I’ll be just a moment…”

Daniel walked around to where he could see, and his eyes widened. Herbert had his shirt rolled up, and had inserted a long needle into the bottom of his abdomen. West was now injecting himself with an abnormally large dosage of the reagent.

“What the-?”

Herbert withdrew the syringe. The serum glowed under his skin momentarily, but soon faded. Instantly after, Herbert’s body seized, his hands clamping over his stomach. He cried out and crumpled to the floor, having what appeared to be convulsions.

“Dammit, Herbert!” Dan said, throwing himself to his knees.

He held West’s trembling shoulders, praying this was just a normal reaction to the reagent. Herbert had told him, when he would shoot-up, that it burned like a shot of epinephrine “times ten,” throughout his entire body. But he’d never seized up like this.

Daniel was trying hard to stay calm. What had Herbert been doing? Had he just OD’d? Dan had turned a blind-eye to West’s reagent usage in the past, but he’d never taken this large a dosage. But just as Dan was about to call 911, Herbert stopped convulsing. He lay on the ground, panting, still conscious. Then he sat up and adjusted his glasses.

“Well now, I’ll admit it, that may have been a bit too high a dose,” he said, like nothing had even happened.

“What the

fuck

were you

doing

?!” Dan snapped.

Herbert didn’t respond, instead straightening his shirt and pushing himself to his feet. He swayed momentarily, and Dan shot up to grab his arm.

“For God’s sake, sit down!” Dan groused, forcing Herbert to sit on a nearby stool.

A peculiar look washed over his face, and Daniel wondered if Herb was about to be sick. However, nothing came of it. Herbert turned back to his desk, scribbling down a few notes. His hand shook as he wrote. In fact, his whole body was quivering. Irritated, Dan yanked the pen from Herbert’s hand.

“Excuse me-!”

“Would you care to explain what just happened to you?”

“No, not really,” Herbert replied flatly. “Besides, you witnessed what happened. It was too large a dose. I’ll have to start smaller next time.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes, “

Next time?

”

Herbert snatched his pen back, “Yes,” he said simply. As if that answered everything.

“What could you

possibly

be doing that would require a reagent dosage that large? And I thought,” Dan swallowed, “I thought we talked about you getting clean.”

“Do you really want to have this conversation right now?” Herbert said, eyes still on his notes. “Conversation” was a much more pleasant word than “argument.”

He bit his tongue and decided, no, he didn’t. Daniel huffed. “No. What I

want

is for you to come to dinner.”

He wrapped his arms around Herbert’s chest, resting his chin on Herb’s head.

“Dan,” Herbert said through his teeth. “I’m in the middle of something

important.

”

He kissed the crown of his head. “Please, Herbie. You just scared the shit out of me, so I think you owe me. Please come to the table and pretend my cooking is edible.”

This got a stunted chuckle out of Herbert. He tipped his head back and looked up at Daniel, who in turn pecked his forehead.

“Alright, Danny,” Herb conceded.

He clicked his pen a couple of times before stuffing it in his shirt pocket. Then he slid lithely from the stool, picking up the bottle of reagent with the intent to put it back in the fridge. Herbert didn’t get that far. Dan, thinking his partner had gotten distracted again, turned back in time to see Herbert’s eyes roll up in his head, and his body crumple to the floor.

“

Herb!

” Daniel cried.

Terrified, he felt for a pulse and, to his immense relief, found one. Herbert had simply fainted. Thankfully, his head landed on his arm. Quickly confirming nothing was broken or bleeding, Cain rolled West onto his back. He pulled his own sweater off, balling it under Herbert’s head as a cushion. The basement was colder than he expected in just an undershirt. Dan then scrabbled to Herbert’s desk in search of smelling salts. He didn’t find any.

Instead, he found Herbert’s notes. Daniel hadn’t intended to get distracted, not with his partner in such a vulnerable state, but the temptation to figure out what Herbert was hiding was too great.

I’ll just skim it,

Dan told himself.

If he doesn’t want to tell me what he’s up to…

Glancing back over his shoulder, Dan assured that Herbert was still out cold, then quickly glanced over the most recent entry. As he read, as he processed the information, the blood drained from his face. He thought his heart had stopped. Daniel finally had to pull his eyes away from the notebook, staggering back from the desk.

“You

didn’t

,” he breathed. “Oh God, Herbert, you can’t seriously be-!”

He rubbed his palm over his mouth, turning back to his prone husband. Kneeling next to his body, Dan visually examined Herbert for any change in appearance. Any evidence that could support what he had just read in West’s notes. To his shock, there was something different.

To the untrained eye, it would go without notice. But to Dan, who knew that his partner wore the same clothes every single day, year after year, he saw it near instantly. Herbert wasn’t wearing his belt. And this wouldn’t have been left out of his attire unless…unless it no longer served its purpose.

Shit.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After moving Herbert’s unconscious body to his bedroom, Daniel left Elsa at the dinner table to eat without her creators’ company. He didn’t know how long Herbert might be unconscious, nor how long their following confrontation might last. 
To Dan’s relief, Herbert wasn’t out for much longer, wincing as he came to. Daniel watched him intently from a chair in the corner. He slowly sat up, massaging his temples.

“My head…Daniel, what on earth-” Herbert paused as he noticed Dan’s scowl. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

Dan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. “When were you going to tell me?”

A confused expression came over Herbert’s face, but only momentarily. He seemed to realize what Dan was referring to, and he uncomfortably broke eye contact. “I can’t possibly know what you’re talking about,” he said. But his voice quavered. He was clearly flustered by the sudden confrontation.

“Oh Christ, Herbert, I read your notes! I already know, so cut the bull!”

His face darkened. “You read my personal journals?! That material is private, Daniel!”

“Don’t you put this on me! You’ve been vomiting constantly for days on end, you almost overdosed tonight, and then you up and passed out on the lab floor. I had to know what was going on with you! I’ve been worried

sick.

”

Herbert looked like he wanted to say something, but screwed his lips shut.

“Then, come to find out that you’re,” the words got caught in Dan’s throat, “you’re pregnant?! I mean, how am I supposed to react to that?”

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Herbert said plainly.

Dan’s eyes widened, “

Pleased?

”

“Well, we

did

discuss this. The matter of having a child.”

“I think I would remember if we ever…” His voice drifted off as a vague memory of a drunken conversation floated to the surface. “Oh

shit.

” Dan covered his face with his hands, bits of their discussion coming back to him.

Herbert stood from his bed, straightening his shirt and tie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Daniel grabbed his arm. “No! No you are

not

excused!”

Herbert tried to snatch his arm back, but Dan held fast, giving him a firm look.

“Sit down.”

To Cain’s relief, West finally obliged. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he polished his glasses on his tie, something he was known to do when uncomfortable. “What do you want to know?”

Dan racked his brain, finally saying, “I mean, where do I start?! When did this even happen? I can’t even remember the last time we slept in the same bed, let alone had sex.”

Herbert tried to ignore the flush in his cheeks at the mere mention of intercourse. “It happened two weeks ago.”

Daniel considered this, shaking his head, “I was at that conference. I wasn’t even home.”

“Indeed,” Herbert nodded.

Daniel blinked slowly, shocked. “The kid’s not even

mine

?!” The sudden flare of jealousy surprised both of them.

Herbert looked up with a sigh. “No, but then again, it’s not mine either.”

Daniel tried desperately to hold his tongue, but if curiosity killed the cat, his inner-Rufus was already bludgeoned and reanimated a hundred times over. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“At the hospital, there was a patient who had an abortion, and it was a case where the embryo was otherwise perfectly viable. The mother didn’t want the baby. So, when no one was looking, I…took it. It occurred to me I’d never thought to use the reagent on a human not

yet

alive. I initially considered dosing the embryo with the reagent and growing it in a tube, or an incubator of some kind, but then I thought, well,

I’m

perfectly viable,” he giggled creepily.

“Perfectly insane,” Dan grumbled.

That at least explained the large dosage of the reagent, and the chosen location of injection. A million other questions swarmed his mind, but he didn’t want to give Herbert the satisfaction of his interest.

Herbert frowned. “Daniel, if I pull this off, it will be a monumental achievement in gynecological science. Aborted embryos could become viable again for other patients that want to be parents.”

“And who do you plan to relay this ‘achievement’ to, hm? It’s been years and you’ve never once reported any research to anyone.”

West hesitated, “I need to be certain about-”

“The reagent doesn’t work, Herbert!”

“It does! How can you say that?”

“It reanimates, yes, but to what benefit? All the test subjects have been mindless zombies. We don’t know if Elsa will ever progress beyond the mentality of a third-grader. What if this baby is the same?”

“Hill wasn’t a zombie.”

“And what good would mankind benefit from a talking head?”

“Well they certainly make good music,” Herbert chuckled at his own pun.

Daniel gave a sardonic laugh, then stood up. “Unbelievable. I’m done.”

Herbert’s smile fell. “What?”

“I’m done. I’m moving out. I can’t do this anymore, Herbert.”

Herbert scoffed at this notion. Dan had threatened to leave more times than Herbert could count. He didn’t have time for Cain’s silly mood swings.

“I’ll leave you money for rent, but I’m out. I can’t live in this madhouse anymore.”

“Could you pick up some milk while you’re out? Actually, I made a grocery list. It’s on the fridge,” Herbert said, his smirk returning.

“Oh fuck you!”

Daniel marched out of Herbert’s room, slamming the door behind him.

West heard him storm down the hall and slam his bedroom door. He remained sitting on his bed until he heard the distinct sound of a zipper, and several drawers being opened. Herbert rolled his eyes, and pushed himself to his feet. He scuttled down the hall to Dan’s room. The door was open, but he still knocked on the frame. Dan continued to shove clothes into a large duffle bag.

“What are you doing?” Herbert sighed.

“Moving out. I already said that.”

“And going where? Can’t go running back to Francesca,” he sneered. “Or Meg, for that matter.”

“Thanks to

you,

” Cain said. He zipped his bag shut, then said, “She’d still be alive if I’d never met you.”

Herbert scowled, “Dan, we did our best to reanimate Megan. I knew how much she meant to you. Despite how…inconsequential she was.”

Cain shouldered his bag, pushing past his roommate as he stomped into the hallway. West pursued him down the stairs.

“Daniel, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t leave now; there’s a child to consider,” Herbert reached for Dan’s arm, but he snatched it back.

“So I should consider someone else, now? Like you considered me before throwing caution to the wind for the, I dunno, hundredth time since we’ve met?!”

“I admit I should’ve told you about the experiment sooner, but in my defense, I thought I had more time before symptoms became more obvious.”

“Great excuse, Herb,” Daniel said, snatching his keys off their hook.

“Danny, wait” Herbert started. “Please.”

Daniel swore under his breath, pausing in front of the door. Herbert was using his pet name like a worm on a hook, hoping Dan might take the bait. He turned back to Herbert, his face a tight grimace.

“What?” Dan said tightly.

“There’s another reason why I didn’t tell you,” Herbert crossed his arms in discomfort.

“I’m

sure

there is,” Daniel said sarcastically. But he held his palms out in expectation regardless. “Enlighten me.”

He adjusted his glasses, “Human pregnancy, in its early stages, is inherently fragile. Anything could go wrong. Hormonal imbalance, stress, improper nutrient intake, and other factors can contribute to-”

“Your point, Herb?” Dan said, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Herbert’s mouth flattened. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. Only to see them crushed if the gestation fell through. You get passionately attached to nearly everyone you meet, and I assumed a potential future offspring would be no different. I was waiting to tell you until things seemed more…stable.”

Daniel bit the inside of his cheek. He hated, nay

loathed

when Herbert made a good point when he was in the wrong. And Dan had the itch that he was still being manipulated. Even so, he felt his rage beginning to cool into a simmering irritation. Placing the keys back on their hook, Daniel let the duffle bag drop to the floor. Before Herbert could get another word in, Daniel shoved past him and up the stairs. Herbert heard Dan’s bedroom door slam.

West turned to look at Elsa, who stood meekly in the dining room doorway. He realized she’d just watched their whole argument transpire.

“You’ve eaten, I presume?” he asked.

She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Spaghetti sauce still dotted her face. Her creator sighed, then pulled a small handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the skin around her lips.

“It would probably be best if you went to bed.”

Elsa gestured to the stairs. “Dan?” she mumbled.

“You’ll see him in the morning,” he assured her.

Herbert led Elsa upstairs, dressed her for bed in her usual oversized tee shirt, ran a brush through her hair, and got her settled under the covers. He examined her arms as she lay in bed. Elsa looked far better than she had on the day of her “rebirth” several months prior. Still, she retained her status as a work-in-progress. Much of the exposed muscle had been covered with skin grafts from discarded body parts. The metal braces had mostly been covered with new skin or removed as some of the bone structure was strong enough to work on its own. One still exposed was on her right wrist. As such, her hands were more prone to torn skin or popped stitching.

But Herbert didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, and instead took a minute to appreciate how

human

Elsa looked. Granted, a human that had perhaps been in a very, very bad accident, but a human nonetheless. Yes, she was certainly a work of art. Well, a work of

science.

Never really sure of what to say at these “bedtimes” (Dan was far less awkward with their pseudo-child, a natural father figure), Herbert petted her hair and said, “Sleep well.”

She tugged his sleeve. “Herbert. Story?”

“Ah. No. Not tonight. Maybe Daniel will read you one tomorrow night.”

Elsa’s lip quivered as she released her hold, and her creator was again reminded how immature her mentality was. It was easy to forget, what with her being so…tall.

“Get some sleep, Elsa.”

Herbert clicked off the bedside lamp and quit the room, only to hear soft whimpering from behind the door.

Now what?

He sighed, reopening the door. Elsa had the covers pulled up under her eyes, and she stared at Herbert fearfully.

“Light?” she asked.

Right, right.

He bent down and flicked on the small night light that Daniel had installed. As he left the room, Herbert tried, as always, not to snort at the irony that their towering monster-esque creation was afraid of the dark.

//////////////////////////////

Hours passed. The time was almost twelve in the morning, and Dan hadn’t left his room. Herbert had originally speculated he’d fallen asleep, but his light was still on. And West could hear a repetitive banging against Dan’s bedroom walls, likely the tennis ball Cain often bounced off the ceiling when he was deep in thought. Realizing Cain probably hadn’t eaten in several hours, Herbert made him a plate of the now-cold spaghetti. He considered pushing the plate under the door, but he eventually knocked. The banging stopped.

“Go away, Herbert.”

“I thought you might need something to eat.” Herbert tried the knob, but it was locked tight.

“I’ll live.”

“Daniel, please, we should talk,” Herbert said. “If there’s going to be a…an infant living in the house, I thought you might want to be privy to any future decisions made. It

is

your house, too.”

After a moment, Daniel wrenched the door open. Cain was now clothed in a pair of boxers and a faded tee, the pajamas having replaced his sweater and khakis. He glared at Herbert, who shrank a little under the scrutiny.

“Spaghetti?” he offered, smiling weakly.

Dan’s expression softened, leaving anger for a blank numbness. He took the plate from Herbert’s hand then drifted back to the bed. He stared vacantly at the food.

“Eat,” Herbert said, easing himself into an armchair against the opposite wall.

Daniel obliged, taking a couple of tentative bites, not seeming to care that the pasta was cold. He continued staring at his partner, who was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable being watched so intently. 
Daniel had done a lot of thinking over the past few hours. He realized his discomfort with Herbert’s pregnancy wasn’t that he was a man. It was that he was, well, Herbert. The words “Herbert” and “baby” didn’t fit together well in the same sentence, unless that sentence was something like “Herbert should not be trusted with a human baby.” Dan always imagined Herbert saw other humans not as equal beings, but more as “tools” or “playthings,” not that far removed from someone like Bundy or Gein. 
Though, Dan had to admit that Herbert was far more interested in keeping things alive than most serial killers were. West was more akin to a serial…necromancer?

Even so, Dan had to admit that the idea of having a baby around the house sounded so, well, normal. Domestic. Nice, even. He’d always wanted children, even more so than Meg did, and that desire was only growing stronger as he aged. Both men were nearing thirty. This could be his one and likely only chance at being a father, aside from being whatever he was to Elsa.

He and Herbert weren’t legally married; laws forbade same-sex weddings in Massachusetts. And their relationship could be considered, frankly, odd from an outside perspective. They slept in separate rooms, rarely had sex, and even displays of affection were minimal and chaste. If it weren’t for Herbert’s raging jealousy, Dan might have even been able to see other people.

These matters aside, what really mattered were their criminal backgrounds. Small as they were compared to what they

could

have been, it would certainly prevent any chance of adoption for either of them. This truly was the only way to procure a baby, aside from building one with human scraps, something Herbert was not above doing. Daniel was relieved that, even as drunk as he’d been, he’d at least had the good sense to shoot down that idea.

As he ate his spaghetti, Daniel felt himself beginning to relax. His whole body had felt tight, his stomach roiling with nauseated horror. But the horror was beginning to dull. He realized only then how numb he’d grown to Herbert’s antics. Like a bad smell you go nose-blind to. Eventually the senseless horror just feels routine.

Dan watched as Herbert adjusted his posture in the chair, a hand massaging his lower midriff.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“Not unbearably,” West muttered. “Mild cramping.”

“You could take something for that,” Dan said, his mouth full. “Midol?”

“I’m afraid of additional substances affecting the results. It’s still an experiment, after all. I’ll suffer through it,” he said, a light smirk on the last statement.

“How, um, how developed was, or ‘is’ the embryo?” Dan asked, not looking up from his plate.

“Almost twelve weeks.”

Dan let this set in. “Are we really doing this?”

“You weren’t nearly this hesitant when it came to putting Elsa together.”

“Yeah, but that was,” Daniel waved his hand dismissively, “different, somehow. I mean, this is a

baby.

An entirely new human that we’d be solely responsible for. And what about the pregnancy itself? How are you going to hide it, especially at work?”

“Larger clothing? A leave of absence in the last trimester? God knows I’ve accrued the time off,” Herbert said.

Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, and tried not to get distracted by thinking about how much he needed a haircut.

“Okay,” he started, “if you want me involved in this, I have a few stipulations. Ones you

must

agree to if you want me to stay.”

Herbert sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, and gestured for Dan to proceed.

“First, you will eat three square meals a day, like a normal human. You may eat in the lab, you may eat in your room, but you have to eat. Think of it as a factor of this ‘experiment.’ It’s certainly critical if you want this kid to turn out normal.”

West looked like he was about to argue, but bit his tongue. “Fine,” he conceded.

“Second, you will go to bed

every night

and keep a regular sleep schedule,” Dan said, counting on his fingers.

“How, pray tell, will I do that if I’m taking the-”

“Third,” Daniel continued, “with the exception of what is needed for maintaining the embryo’s development, you will cease extraneous usage of the reagent.”

Herbert looked at Daniel like he’d just asked him to grow money on trees. “

What?!

”

“Look, you’ll already be putting quite a bit of it into your body on a regular basis. You could easily overdose if you continue to ‘use’ in addition to that. I can’t watch you take that risk.”

“Daniel, you are asking me to change every aspect of how I choose to live my life!”

“Isn’t a baby going to do that anyway?”

Herbert looked incredibly flustered, trying in vain to concoct an argument for his case. After a moment or so, he folded his arms and let his eyes fall. A classic Herbert sulk. Daniel knew he had him bested, which was rare.

“Alright,” West said.

“I want you to promise.”

“Should we pinky-swear, Danny?” Herbert jested, smirking.

Dan just scowled, waiting for a response.

Herbert finally sighed. “Very well, Daniel. I promise.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It had been a week or so since Dan found out about the pregnancy, and for the most part, life inside the Cain-West household continued as normal. Herbert wasn’t happy about having a set bedtime, and Dan would often see the light on in his room into the wee hours of the morning. The lamp would finally flick off around two or so. At least it was out every time Dan used the toilet at that same hour. Dan was just thankful Herbert wasn’t in the lab doing god knows what from nine at night until it was time for another shift at the hospital. Despite the increase in sleep, Herbert seemed more tired than usual in the mornings. Whether it was the changes happening to his body, or the decreased amount of reagent in his bloodstream, neither man could conclude. On one such morning, Daniel sat at the kitchen table with Elsa. He sipped his coffee while she crunched on a piece of toast slathered in peanut butter. Herbert shuffled, half asleep, into the kitchen and over to the coffee pot. He was clothed in his “pajamas”; one of Dan’s old Star Trek shirts and a pair of boxers. He poured himself a cup of coffee and began unpeeling a banana. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” Dan chimed. He appraised his partner. “You’re not dressed for work yet?” “Not for lack of trying,” Herbert mumbled into his mug. He took a long sip of the coffee.Daniel had been tempted to protest about Herbert’s caffeine intake, but it hadn’t been more than one or two coffees a day, and also he was slightly worried that Herbert might try to strangle him if he took away his coffee. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Herbert’s mouth was full as the question was asked. But as Dan was observing his husband, he noticed the small but definite bump that had begun forming at his pelvis. It was enough, if just barely, that Dan could see it under Herbert’s shirt. “Well that’s new,” Dan said. Herbert shifted uncomfortably, pulling down the hem of the shirt, assuring that it covered him completely. “I need a favor,” Herbert said.“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need, Herb.”“Could I persuade you to lend me a pair of pants?”“Might be a little long for you,” Dan said.“I can make do. I discovered this morning, with frustration, that I can’t comfortably fit in my own pants anymore. So I thought maybe I’d be able to wear a pair of yours.”“Are you trying to get in my pants?” Dan snorted, unable to suppress it. Even Elsa gave a grunt of laughter. Herbert cast his spouse an irritated glare.“Daniel, I didn’t think you could get less mature.”Smiling coyly, Dan slipped over to Herbert and leaned in for a good-morning kiss. Herbert blocked his advances, his hand over Dan’s mouth. “I was kidding, Herb!” Dan rolled his eyes. Herbert shook his head. “It’s not that. I…vomited earlier.”Daniel retracted his head. “Mm. Delightful.”“About the pants?”“Right. Lemme see what I can find.”Herbert set aside his breakfast and followed Dan upstairs, into his bedroom, where Dan proceeded to rifle through his wardrobe. After a minute, he pulled out a pair of brown slacks and tossed them to Herbert. He pulled them on over his boxers, frowning at how long the legs were. Even hiked up to his waist, there was still a good two or three inches of pant leg past his feet. Daniel tried to stifle his giggles. Herbert looked like a child playing dress-up in their parent’s clothing. “Not a word, Cain,” Herbert growled. “Let me at least pin them.” Dan dropped to his knees at Herbert’s feet, dutifully rolling up each pant leg. He then grabbed a container of safety pins from his junk drawer and pinned the extra fabric to the inside of the leg. “There! Not too bad, if I do say so myself.”Herbert examined Dan’s handiwork. “Hmm. If your career as a physician doesn’t pan out, you might look into clothing alterations,” he smirked. “This isn’t necessarily a long term solution. You might want to invest in some mater- um, paternity wear.”Herbert cut his eyes at him. “I hardly think that is any of your business. Besides, I happen to be taking scrupulous notes on the development and growth of the embryo.”“I don’t doubt your note keeping skills,” Dan sighed. “What I doubt is your ability to recognize that your body is changing. And if keeping this pregnancy under wraps is as important to you as I think it is, you’re gonna need bigger clothes. The sooner the better.”“I believe such measures would be a waste of money,” Herbert scoffed. “We are not lacking in finances, Herb. We barely spend what we have. Besides, you have been wearing the same clothing every day since we met. Likely before we met,” Dan said.“I like routine and structure.”Dan shrugged, “We can check out some thrift stores if the money is what you’re worried about.”Herbert waved him off dismissively, his eyes dipping downward. “No, money isn’t really the concern.”“I know. And I promise you we will be able to find your button-up shirts in a larger size.”“I’ll look ridiculous. And baggier clothing will only impede my work. Overhanging clothing is a massive safety hazard in the lab environment.”Dan folded his arms. “Any more excuses you’d like to throw out?”Herbert stuck out his lower lip. “If given enough time, I’m sure I could think of other reasons.”Dan snorted, pulling his partner into his arms. He smooched Herbert’s forehead. “What if my only option is women’s clothing?” Herbert muttered. “Is that what you’re worrying about?” “They don’t exactly make male maternity clothing, Danny.” “Herb, look at me,” he held Herbert’s chin until their eyes met, “I promise I will help you find roomier, work-appropriate, men’s clothing that you feel good in. Even if I have to use my patented alteration skills. Okay?”Herbert ducked out of his spouse’s touch, but nodded his assent. “Alright.”“Great! Let’s do that this weekend. Shit, what time is it? We gotta run. Do your shirts still fit okay?” “Yes, my shirts are fine.” Herbert rushed off to his bedroom and snagged one of his white button-ups from the closet. He pulled off the Trek tee, almost losing his glasses in the process, and hurriedly donned the shirt. The fear of being late for work was one thing, but not the only reason for his frantic behavior. He did not want to look at his body. One of the reasons he dreaded shopping for new clothes. Herbert hadn’t anticipated the dysphoria that would come with the pregnancy. He had convinced himself, at the beginning of the experiment, that he was confident enough in his own identity to muscle through the gestation. For the research. For the infant. For Dan. But the recent fetal growth had been harder on his mentality than he wanted to admit. It didn’t help that every single speck of information he read referred to a person in his condition as the “mother.” Or that pregnancy was inherently a “woman’s” experience. Herbert knew he was the minority, that could not be denied, nor could it be denied that he wasn’t the most masculine man to begin with. But the discomfort was still there. Herbert stared down at his stomach as it pressed against the shirt buttons. Not enough so that there were gaps in the fabric, but enough to be noticed. At least by him. He pulled the pants up a little higher over his midriff, hoping it would be enough to hide the forming bump.  Dan knocked on the door frame, startling Herbert from his thoughts. “Want me to do your tie?” Herbert gave him a tired smirk. “Sure, Dan.”It was one of their little rituals. Had Dan not already tied his, Herbert would have returned the favor. West still assured Cain’s tie was straight. Then Dan would polish Herbert’s glasses for him. They always ended the ritual with a kiss, assuring they started the work day on a good note.Dan sensed Herbert was still off. “You okay?” He nodded, lying. “Let’s go. We’ll be late if we don’t leave. You made Elsa some lunch?” “Turkey sandwich. And I reminded her she can only have an hour of TV.”Neither man liked the idea of leaving their creation-with-the-mind-of-a-ten-year-old home alone all day. Day after day. But seeing as how a babysitter would be near impossible to arrange, and she wasn’t at all suited for public school, they didn’t have any alternative. They gave her workbooks to be completed during the day, limited her screen time, allowed her to free roam the cemetery, and did the best they could as working guardians. It seemed to work alright, though Elsa was occasionally clingy when they got home. Despite the massive amount of reagent used in her rebirth, and the monthly booster for general upkeep, Elsa was relatively even tempered. There was the occasional tantrum, and she complained she wasn’t given a long enough leash, but she was mostly cheerful and inquisitive. Her favorite pastime (besides watching copious amounts of television, to Herbert’s displeasure) was to watch animals that congregated on their front lawn. Seeing this as an opportunity for stimulation, Dan bought a birdfeeder for their porch, which Elsa watched religiously. The girl would become excited whenever a winged critter stopped by, even if it was something as ordinary as a cardinal, and would often drag whichever guardian was closest to the window to look at her visitor. This was where the two men found her as they were going out the door. Elsa pulled her eyes away from the window to look at them. “You finished your breakfast?” Dan asked, as Herbert clipped back to the kitchen to grab the rest of his. Elsa nodded, trying not to let her eyes wander back to the birdfeeder.“Okay. Well, you know the drill, so-”“Drill?” Elsa cocked her head. “Like the tool?”“Routine,” Herbert clarified. “Yeah, so, like always, we’ll be back when the little hand is on the six. Until then, get some work done, go outside, and not too much TV. And lunch is in the fridge,” Dan said. Elsa got up from the couch and wrapped her arms around Dan in a goodbye hug. He ruffled her blonde hair for good measure. She had a hug for Herbert as well, one he endured stiffly and awkwardly. “Daniel and I will be back before it gets late,” Herbert said in his uncomfortable monotone. The doctors left their house, their creation watching from the window. Dan gave her a wave goodbye, which she reciprocated; Herbert didn’t look up. “Y’know, you should really start hugging her back someday,” Dan said as he clicked his seatbelt. “It’d be good practice for when the kid gets here.”“Elsa is not our ‘practice offspring.’ She is our offspring, for all intents and purposes,” Herbert scowled. “Then hug her like she is! I know she looks…how she looks, but if her mind has truly regressed to that of a child, she needs emotional security.”“By leaving her home alone every day?”“Not the point, Herb,” Dan huffed, throwing the car in drive. West changed the subject slightly, “Do we really think it wise to let Elsa outside on her own?” “Nobody visits the cemetery. Besides, you said it yourself, she looks far more human than she did a few months ago.”“I did, but more human does not mean ‘completely indistinguishable from a normal human being.’” Dan tongued his cheek, “Do you think we should tell her?”“That she’s been reanimated? We have told her. She still doesn’t have any memories of being Gloria.”“No, I mean about the baby,” he said. “If Elsa is our…unorthodox offspring, shouldn’t we tell her?” He sniffed dismissively. “The experiment is still in a fragile state. We likely shouldn’t make concrete plans or announcements until well into the second trimester.”“Fine,” Dan sighed. “Whatever.” It was not lost on Dan that Herbert was still insisting on referring to the baby as anything but. “Embryo” and “experiment” seemed to be his current terms of choice. He was still shocked West had been so willing to ask for and actually wear the pants Dan had lent him. He was far less shocked at Herbert dragging his feet at the discussion of new clothing. “New” was not West’s forté, when it wasn’t related to scientific advancement. And as Dan snaked his non-driving hand into Herbert’s, he worried to himself that parenthood might be too “new” for the scientist.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Herbert wandered through the stacks of the Arkham Public Library. Originally he’d been perusing the science shelves, trying to see what the library had in terms of new non-fiction. It wasn’t much, and what little there was, West realized, was of no interest to him. Most popular science, he felt, talked down to him and didn’t hold his attention for more than a few paragraphs.

Inarticulate drivel,

he thought dismissively.

But instead of leaving, Herbert found himself continuing to browse from the 500s and into the 600s. That’s where he stumbled upon some material that piqued his interest; parenting books. If he had been in any other situation, West would have scoffed and kept walking. But he considered the bump that was currently growing underneath his shirt, the embryo that was now almost seventeen weeks along, and he found himself stopping.

He glanced over his shoulder and back again, assuring he was alone in the aisle, then snatched up the first book that caught his eye. As he flipped through it, he discovered it was a bit too religion-centered for his tastes, and returned it to its spot. He slid another book off the shelf, scanned a few pages, then ultimately decided it was a good enough place to start. He picked out a few more selections to add to his stack, including, albeit reluctantly, the newly popular “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” Dan had read a newspaper article about it and mentioned wanting to read it.

Somewhat embarrassed by his large pile of baby books, Herbert set the latest Patterson novel on top of the stack as he passed the fiction section. Cain certainly liked his crime-thrillers; it wasn’t a pointless addition. He wished there was more variety to his book selection, but West couldn’t think of anything else to get. And he was stretching his checkout limit as it was.

Herbert carried his books to the counter and set them in front of the librarian. As he fumbled with his wallet for his library card (Dan’s, actually, as Herbert’s card had been revoked following an incident with a borrowed book and some spilled blood), the young woman began pulling the checkout slips from the books. She noticed the subject matter of the books and grinned.

“Are you and your wife expecting?” she chimed.

West scowled. “I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

The woman’s smile fell. “Oh! I’m awfully sorry. I shouldn’t have said…gosh, it just slipped out.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have,” Herbert said curtly.

Flustered by the interaction and her apparent conversational flub, the librarian hurriedly finished her stamping. She handed West a pencil.

“If you wouldn’t mind signing by the date on each-”

“I am not a novice, madam,” Herbert clipped, then bent over the counter to sign the slips.

He nearly forgot to sign as “Daniel Cain,” and had to erase the H-E-R on the first slip. If the librarian noticed, she was still too embarrassed to say anything. Finished, West took his card back and shoved the books into a Miskatonic University tote. The librarian had initially wanted to comment on the MU bag, being an alumni herself, but now was more than happy to let the strange man leave without further interruption.

“Don’t mind him,” another librarian said, having watched the exchange. “He’s always a piece of work.”

“His poor wife.”

Herbert, thought to have been out of earshot, chuckled at the comment.

///////////////////////////

Herbert hunched over the sample on the table, focusing intently on the heart in the dissection tray. His eyes passed from the organ to the stopwatch in his hand. It had continued to beat steadily for, at this point, several minutes. But, without blood to pump, it was beginning to slow down. West observed as the heart finally stopped beating, clicking the stopwatch.

Impressive,

he thought to himself.

He jotted the time in his notes, and wondered whether a higher dosage of the reagent would cause it to beat longer, or would it simply combust from overdose.

“

After all, we’re flesh n’ blood,

After all,

we’re flesh-!
”

Oingo Boingo was playing on Herbert’s Walkman, the tinny sound piping through his headphones. The cassette player had been a birthday gift from Dan a few months prior. It was bright yellow, and while Dan claimed the color choice would make it hard to lose, Herbert found it gaudy. He’d been resistant to the new technology (and birthdays as a whole), but told Dan he’d try it

once,

just to prove he didn’t like it. But one try was all it took for Herbert to become addicted to it.

Dan was relieved, mostly that the gift was a success, but equally because he wouldn’t have to hear the albums “Dead Man’s Party” or “Only a Lad” on endless repeat when Herbert got in a fixation rut. Danny enjoyed Elfman as much as the next person, but even he had his limits.

Dan and Herbert’s relationship was complicated, to say the absolute least. Fickle and skittish like a stray cat. A constant eb and flow of different emotions on which buoyed a boat of enigma. Daniel knew he had a brutal crush -loathe as he was to use a word like that- on Herbert the moment they were introduced. A sudden and barely suppressed infatuation with this, frankly, bizarre little man. Herbert certainly irritated him, but just as equally fascinated him. Said crush wasn’t acted upon, wasn’t even thoroughly considered as a possibility, until after Meg’s passing. Megan Halsey truly had been the love of his life. She was bright, beautiful, funny, and -though Dan tried not to be shallow- sex with her was fantastic. Only six months into the relationship and, once averse to domesticity, he was now jumping at the chance to tie the knot. Nobody could compete, even West.

When she died, Herbert was there to help Dan pick up the pieces, in a way that only Herbert could. Forward momentum. West had been the one to suggest they leave Arkham following graduation, get a change of scenery. So they joined a Doctors Without Borders group in Peru. West distracted Cain with work, and eventually he felt himself easing from the darkness of Meg’s passing.

Herbert had also been the one to suggest they continue living together after Peru.

“I’d likely only use the basement; there’s really no need for me to have a whole house to myself,” he’d said. “Besides, you’re neat and timely with rent.” (West later confessed these weren’t the

only

reasons he wanted Cain around.)

Cain hadn’t wanted to return to Arkham following all that had transpired at Miskatonic, but to his great surprise, both he and Herbert were selected for jobs at the MU teaching hospital. It was hard to say no to a career-launching job that would be waiting for him upon his return to the states. So Dan agreed to accompany Herbert back to Massachusetts.

Of course, West had also chosen a home that was a former mortuary. Much to Dan’s chagrin. But at least the house was cheap; not many buyers wanted to live smack next to a cemetery.

Dan, however, was the first one to make a romantic move. Their relationship would have continued to be painfully platonic until their dying days if West had his way. But Dan couldn’t stand it, and one day finally told Herbert he wanted more. Shockingly, West agreed. But not without his own stipulations, such as the continued need for separate bedrooms. They also didn’t copulate nearly as much as Daniel would have liked, but with Herbert being borderline asexual, Dan was admittedly happy they were intimate at all. Aside from this, and Herbert’s cavalier attitude towards his “domestic partner,” the relationship was nice. If occasionally strained.

West would have stated he didn’t care if Dan brought women home, but then would proceed to be immensely passive-aggressive towards him and his companion until she went away. When confronted about his jealousy, West would change the subject instead of outright denying his feelings.

After the disaster with Francesca, and

her

leaving

him,

Dan made a promise to Herbert that he was done with “extra-marital affairs.” Herbert again seemed to brush this off like it was never a problem to begin with, but was noticeably softer towards Dan in the weeks following. They rebuilt the basement, and continued the process of reacclimating Elsa to the world of the living.

They’d never bought rings or had a formal ceremony, but were a monogamous couple for all intents and purposes from then on. It seemed only natural, at least in Herbert’s eyes, that a legitimate offspring would be the next step.

A sudden tap on his shoulder jerked Herbert from his work. He whirled around, pencil drawn like a knife. Dan simply laughed.

“Gonna give me lead poisoning?”

Herbert growled, a release of tension, and punched the pause button on his Walkman.

West pulled the headphones to rest around his neck, “You startled me.”

“Consider it a little payback after all the times you ‘got’ me,” he smirked.

“What do you want, Daniel? I’m busy.”

“Two things, actually. First, it’s almost dinner time. I made tuna melts.”

“For dinner?”

“I’m sorry, do

you

want to cook?”

Herbert just sighed, “Second?”

Daniel set the copy of “What to Expect” on the table, “I’ve been reading this book you brought home and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Daniel, I borrowed those books so you would leave me alone, not continue to interrupt my work!”

“Have you ever thought about,” Dan continued unheeded, “how the man’s role in pregnancy has changed

significantly

over the last hundred or so years?”

“Yes, now we’re the ones in the stirrups,” Herbert muttered, turning back to his notes.

“I mean, when we were born, men weren’t even allowed in the delivery room. Now there’s a real mutual effort aspect to it. I think it’s neat! And it’s really made me want to, y’know, be involved!”

Herbert wasn’t listening at this point. He was two steps away from putting his headphones back on. Annoyed, Dan finally wedged himself between his partner and the lab table.

“Daniel, I am working.”

“And I am trying to have an important conversation with you. So if you want to work, you’ll have to go through me.”

“I have a sharp scalpel that should get through you just fine,” Herbert said, but it was in jest. He sighed, easing himself onto a nearby stool. “Fine, Danny. Carry on.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dan said, resting a hand on Herbert’s leg, “after I read a few chapters about the second trimester, that we should get you scanned.”

Herbert almost laughed. “I had a CAT scan as a child. They didn’t find anything.”

Daniel bit back a smarmy response, trying to focus, “No, I mean like an ultrasound.”

Herbert’s face went slack, eyes dipping downwards. “Are we…certain that’s necessary?”

“Well, if we want to make sure the kid is healthy, it’s not a bad start.”

Herbert rubbed his hand over his mouth, something he did if he was nervous.

“How do you expect us to do that, Dan?”

“Well, Herbert, we

are

doctors. And we

do

work at a hospital.”

“Yes, but we can’t simply just

steal

an ultrasound unit!”

“Herbert, I’m not proud of this, but we have stolen everything from organs to entire corpses from Miskatonic General. Why are you suddenly self conscious about a machine?”

“Precisely because it

is

a machine. It’s incredibly expensive and the hospital will immediately know it’s gone.”

Dan retooled his theory, “So, instead…we go in really late. When no one is around. Show our IDs to the front desk. In and out.”

Herbert was still stewing on the idea, pumping his leg up and down against one of the stool’s foot rests.

“What?”

Herbert swallowed thickly. “Daniel, how do we proceed if…something’s wrong with the fetus?”

Dan’s brow furrowed in concern. “Do you

think

something’s wrong?”

Herbert wanted to lie. Instead, he sighed, “In one of my medical texts, I read that fetal movement can be first felt between weeks sixteen through twenty-four. I realize I’m still only seventeen weeks, but…”

“Nothing?”

“Not that I can discern.”

“Well, it’s growing, isn’t it? I mean, that’s something.”

“Yes, I have been taking measurements. But I can’t be certain if the reagent is simply promoting growth through cell production instead of actual life, more like a…sarcoma. What’s more, the fetus is too small to hear its pulse with a simple stethoscope.” Herbert idly tapped the top of his stomach with his pencil.

“But it was

alive

when you implanted it, right? The application of the reagent was successful?”

“As far as I could tell. Granted, the embryo was incredibly small at the time of the acquisition.”

Dan blew out a puff of air, scratching the back of his head. “Okay, so, these are all

definitely

good reasons to get you checked out. In fact, let’s make a plan to go in tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? That soon?”

“Soon? Be happy I’m not dragging you there

tonight.

You’re lucky I don’t want to put real clothes on.
”

Herbert looked as though he wanted to comment, or even protest, but he didn’t. He picked at his nails and chewed the inside of his mouth. “And what is the step that follows should the fetus be deemed to be…no longer viable?” He asked this in his aloof, detached manner that he handled everything.

But Dan could practically see the lump in his throat. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the table, casting Herbert a sad smile.

“How about we cross that bridge if or when we come to it?”

West nodded. “I suppose that’s sensible.”

Dan moved in for a hug, but Herbert stopped him, hand pressed to his chest.

“If it’s alright, I’d like some alone time.”

He patted West’s shoulder, “Sure. Wait a sec, actually no. Dinner time.”

“Right.” Herbert fought the bile rising in his throat as he remembered the menu. “And if I don’t think tuna is a good idea right now?”

“I’m sure we can find you something edible,” Dan smirked. “

Both

of you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Elsa sat patiently on the lab table, waiting for her creator to gather his notes. Her legs swung back and forth off the edge of the table.

“Now then,” Herbert said, setting his notebook next to Elsa.

He picked up the afflicted arm, turning it over. West gingerly peeled back the gauze to see the long gash that covered most of her forearm. It had stopped bleeding, but it still looked pretty gruesome. He scrutinized the wound, then poured a small pool of saline into a pan. Pinching a cotton ball with a pair of tweezers, he soaked it, then dabbed at the cut. Elsa was wincing all the while.

“And what were you doing when this happened?” Herbert asked.

He cast his eyes up at her, and she shrunk under his gaze.

“Picking at it again, were we?”

“It itches,” she said. She was trying not to whine. Herbert would get more irritated if she whined.

“We’ve talked about this,” he chided. “The itching sensation is all part of the healing process. But if you continue to pick at the stitches, it will only heal slower.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. She knew her healing was already slower than average, even with the aid of the reagent. It came from having segments of skin that weren’t yours to begin with, a patchwork of epidermis harvested from strangers.

“Apologize to yourself. You’re the one who’ll have to live with the stitching for another few weeks.”

He threaded the surgical needle and began to suture the wound closed. Elsa cringed as she watched the needle poke in and out of her skin. Herbert took the discomfort as a good sign; it meant her nerve endings were recovering.

“I’ll wrap your arm with more gauze. Hopefully that might dissuade any repeat incidents,” he said. He finished the stitching, snipping off any errant threads.

Herbert turned to fetch more supplies. Elsa had the sudden, juvenile urge to stick her tongue out at him, but resisted the impulse.

“You should notify me or Dan if it’s bothering you. We can try calamine lotion or a cold compress.”

Herbert wound the roll of gauze around Elsa’s forearm.

“Are you and Dan going somewhere else tonight?”

He paused, unsure of how to answer the question. “What makes you ask that?”

“Dan usually changes clothes when you both get home from work, but today he didn’t. That usually means you’re going to leave the house again,” she said. “Sometimes you go out for dinner, but we already ate.”

Elsa was idly studying her unaffected arm. Herbert briefly considered wrapping up the other one as well, to ward off temptation.

“Very observant of you,” Herbert said. “Yes, Dan and I do have to run a brief errand later tonight. You’ll already be settled in bed when we leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m quite sure it has nothing to do with you,” he said, a bit more firmly than he intended.

“Is something wrong?”

He was struck by the worry in her voice. Herbert thought back to his conversation with Dan; he’d wanted to tell Elsa about the experiment. Herbert still wasn’t sure. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Dan, damn him, until a certain stage of the experiment. But he’d found a way to worm his way in, to intervene. He was so good at that.

Even so, he’d been partially relieved Dan had found his notes. It certainly saved him the trouble of figuring out how to tell him. But, of course, he’d immediately jumped to the paternal implications of the whole thing. Forgoing all meaning of how scientifically significant this usage of the reagent could be. Herbert supposed that he hadn’t helped the situation by bringing home those parenting books, but he had naïvely thought the reading might placate any concerns that arose.

Dan could be such a sentimental fool. He decided not to make the same mistake with Elsa. At least not at this stage.

“Nothing that you need to concern yourself with,” he shook his head.

He finished binding her afflicted arm, deciding to trust her, for the time being, to leave her other arm alone.

“Go upstairs, alright? You and Daniel can watch some brain-rotting nonsense on TV. I have more work to do.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said, then clarified, “for my arm.”

“Mm,” Herbert nodded. “Go on.”

Elsa stood from the table, towering over her creator. She bent down and kissed the top of his head. Herbert flushed at the affection and coughed in discomfort as Elsa took her leave.

Assuring she was gone, Herbert cleaned up the remnants of the little procedure. He then found his notes regarding the embryo experiment (

fetal

experiment at this stage, if he was to be fair), and plucked a bottle of reagent from the minifridge against the wall. He prepped a syringe, one of his few left unbroken, and filled the barrel with 20ccs of the serum.

He hitched up the bottom of his shirt over his small stomach, not wishing to disrobe completely, lest he have to look too long at his torso.

After swabbing a small patch of his skin with alcohol, he eased the needle into his stomach. He braced himself, slowly pressed the plunger down, and slid the needle from under his skin. The after effect was almost instantaneous. That awful feeling of every nerve ending in his body being set afire. Dropping the empty syringe back on the table, Herbert gripped the edge of his desk and rode out the horrendous burning sensation.

As it lifted, West panted, hoping he wasn’t about to be sick again. Leaning over his notes, he jotted down that he’d taken the reagent dosage and what time it was. Using a tape measure, Herbert examined his stomach, recording in his notebook the fetus’ current size.

His hand moved to pull his shirt back down, but paused as he considered that he hadn’t yet felt any fetal movement. He glanced down, albeit reluctantly, at his protruding midriff. Herbert recalled reading somewhere that quickening could be occasionally provoked by means of external stimulation.

Well…

Nervous, almost hesitant, Herbert performed a series of rapid taps to the sides of his bump. Each time, he let his fingers linger momentarily on the off chance he might feel something. But nothing happened. Dismayed, he pulled his shirt back down, smoothing over the creases. Jaw set, he turned back to his writings and added a notation about the continued absence of movement. He closed his journal, and turned to leave the lab, trying to suffocate any niggling worries about the state of the fetus.

If something was wrong, it would

destroy

Daniel.

////////////////

Getting back into Miskatonic Hospital after-hours was shockingly easy. As Dan had surmised, all they had to do was flash their badges and they were let back in, no questions asked. They’d even concocted an elaborate lie beforehand, one that involved misplaced paperwork, one they didn’t even need to use. Herbert supposed that, with as lax as security already was (given the state of the morgue), they really hadn’t needed to fret so much. Maybe they

could

have gotten away with stealing an ultrasound computer.

But they decided, instead, to first see if they could even

use

one. Neither of them had ever been properly trained; the hospital had specialized ultrasound technicians for that. Cain and West just interpreted the results for the patients. And even then, fetal ultrasound was rarely done in the Miskatonic ER.

On top of it, neither doctor had actually been in this part of the hospital.

“Maybe we should have looked at a map,” Dan said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would have looked highly suspicious to security.”

Herbert picked a direction at the fork in the hall, Dan keeping pace beside him.

“I’m not sure the security guard was paying too close attention. I think he had a mini TV set. You’d think after what happened with Mace and the morgue, they’d be a little more stringent with their hiring process.”

Herbert shuddered involuntarily. Even all those years later, he could still feel the cold grip of Hill’s sentient intestines around his neck. He’d had deep bruises on his skin for months afterwards.

Never

another overdose. Not as long as he had anything to say.

“Right, sorry, Herb.”

“Let’s face it, it wasn’t the most fun night for either of us.”

“Well, an event doesn’t get called a ‘massacre’ unless there’s a good reason.”

Towards the end of the hall, they found a room labeled “Diagnostics.”

Casting a furtive glance over one shoulder, Dan peered into the door’s window. Inside the dark room sat a sonogram machine.

“Bingo,” he said.

To their surprise, the door wasn’t locked, and they slipped inside. After assuring that the hallway was still empty, Dan flicked on the lights.

Herbert clicked them off again. “We need it to be dark, remember?”

He sat on the exam table and quickly removed his tie and shirt. He kept his eyes on Dan so as not to look at his torso. Daniel examined the ultrasound machine thoughtfully.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Herbert asked, lying supine on the table.

“I think I can fake it. I thumbed through a manual on my lunch break today.”

“Then may we hurry it up before someone happens by?”

“Would you relax? It’s almost ten, the hospital is a ghost town.”

“You’re not the one who’d be exposed if this went awry!”

Dan cut his eyes at Herbert, but decided he didn’t want their bickering to continue. He turned back to the ultrasound machine, and fumbled his way to the power button. The screen flickered to life.

“Good start,” Dan mused.

“Truly a work of genius,” Herbert snarked. “The man can turn it on.”

“From the bottom of my heart, I hope this gel is

freezing

cold

,

” Dan said, teeth gritted.

Herbert simply glared at him, arms folded over his chest. Daniel squeezed a layer of ultrasound jelly on the doppler and pressed it to Herbert’s stomach. It must have been cold, because goosebumps appeared on his arms. Dan held his breath, bracing himself for what he might see. He peered at the screen, trying to get a sense of what he was looking at. Finally, he dug his reading glasses out of his pocket.

After another minute of studying the screen and altering the placement of the doppler, a more discernible image of the fetus came into view. Dan couldn’t suppress the smile as it formed on his lips. Relief flooded his body. It was

human

! Not one of West’s grotesque doodles, not a reanimated abomination. An honest-to-God human baby. The fetus moved ever so slightly, as if knowing it was being watched.

“Huh,” Dan softly chuckled to himself.

Herbert’s eyes narrowed, “What? What is it?”

“Kid looks good. Cozy. Definitely alive.”

Dan turned the screen slightly so that Herbert could see. He watched as Herbert examined the screen with an unchanged expression, the monitor reflected in his glasses. That expression being the same flat, passive way he studied anything and everything. Daniel wondered if there was anything that could affect the unflappable Herbert West.

“You’re right. Seems to be developing at a perfectly normal rate,” he said, but Dan caught a slight hitch in his voice.

He also noticed West’s eyes misting over.

So he

isn’t

made of stone,

Dan thought to himself. He tried hard not to let his grin widen.

Dan turned back to the keyboard, and cranked a small nob. A fluid-like whooshing sound pulsed from the speakers.

“Wow,” Dan laughed. “That’s quite a heartbeat.”

“Yes,” Herbert muttered vacantly, eyes still glued to the screen. “Fast. But that’s to be expected at this juncture.”

“No signs of arrhythmia. Heart’s likely healthy.”

The two doctors watched as they could see the fluttering movement of the heart in the fetus’ chest. The baby continued to fidget restlessly.

“Sure is active. You can’t feel any of that?” Dan asked.

“Mm, no. I suppose it’s not developed enough. I’d tried to provoke movement earlier this evening, but it was fruitless. Regardless, I would have told you if I’d felt anything since last night.”

“You would have?” Dan grinned.

Herbert flushed, “The quickening would be an important milestone in the experiment. Of course I would inform you.”

Dan turned back to the screen with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Not exactly sure what I’d be looking for in terms of physical abnormalities,” Dan said, “but it seems average enough.”

“We may need to perform another scan at a later stage in the gestation,” Herbert stated. “To assure no other problems have developed.”

Dan regarded the monitor. “You know, I could probably figure out the gender, if that’s something you wanted to know.”

“Sex,” Herbert corrected him. “Not gender.”

“Right. Yeah. Sex,” Dan said. “So?”

Herbert’s eyes flicked from the screen to Dan and back. He finally nodded. “Very well. Not that it matters much either way. Certainly doesn’t impact the experiment.”

“Might be fun to know. We could start thinking of a name.”

Herbert sniffed and waved him off indifferently, as if to say, “Whatever pleases you.”

Dan swiveled back to the machine. He repositioned the doppler again, hoping to get a better view at the fetus’ lower half. He studied the screen intently before nodding in satisfaction.

“Again, I am not a trained sonographer, but I would put money on this baby being a girl,” Dan beamed. “Looks like Elsa’s getting a little sister.”

Cain braced for one of West’s typically snarky comments, or even a tirade on the concept of the gender binary as a whole, but neither came. Instead, Herbert continued to be transfixed by the screen. He stared at the monitor, his facial expression as unreadable as ever. Dan wasn’t sure, but he thought he noted a hint of fear in Herbert’s gaze. He thought about asking him if he was okay, but realized Herbert would only be inclined to lash out, so Dan let him be.

Herbert finally realized he was being watched, and hastily cleared his throat.

“We should probably leave soon before anyone happens by,” he said. “Someone might have seen us on the security cameras.”

Dan thought of something, and held up a finger. “Just give me one more second.”

“Quickly, then,” Herbert sniped. “This gel is revolting.”

Daniel’s eyes flitted over all the buttons before finding the one he wanted; Print. The machine let out a whirring sound before spitting out a small black and white photo of the ultrasound.

“Ta-da! Souvenir!”

“Adorable,” Herbert said, rolling his eyes. “Plan on putting it on the fridge?”

“If you

insist,

Herbie,” Dan smirked.

“You know I

hate

it when you call me…never mind. May I please wipe this gunk off of me?”

Dan clicked the machine off and tossed Herbert a towel from the cabinet. As he sat up, wiping the gel off his stomach, he picked up the photo resting on the keyboard. He examined it, expressionless. Dan sat next to him on the exam table.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Herbert pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“Too many of them, not enough pennies?” Dan offered.

Ignoring his partner, Herbert withdrew a small notebook from his pants pocket. He jotted down a handful of the observations made during the exam, mainly the vitals and physical condition of the fetus.

He stuck the photo between the pages of his notebook and stood, straightening his clothes. “Let’s go home.”

////////////////

Dan got up at about 1:30 in the morning to pee. As he shuffled blearily into the bathroom, he noticed that Herbert’s bedroom light was still on.

He kept watching the door as he relieved himself, deciding to check on Herbert, and force him to go to sleep if necessary. Again. He flushed and rinsed his hands (Dan knew he should’ve washed them in earnest, but it was the middle of the night and whatnot). He crept to Herbert’s bedroom down the hall, and subtly nudged the door open.

Herbert was somewhat upright in his bed, eyes closed, snoring softly. He’d fallen asleep with the light on. His body slumped to one side, glasses dangling at a precarious angle, book ajar on his lap. Daniel tiptoed over to Herbert’s side of the bed, easing his reading material from his slackened grip. He pulled the covers over his shoulders and gingerly slid his glasses off his face. Setting the frames on the nightstand, Dan clicked the lamp off. He pressed a light kiss to the side of his partner’s temple.

“Night, Herbie.”

Dan tucked the book under his arm and crept back out of the room. Once he was back in the seclusion of his own bedroom, Dan flicked his lamp on and appraised the book he was holding. It was a photo album, of some kind, one that he’d never seen before. Curious, he quickly flipped through a handful of pages. To his shock, he found that the majority of the photos were from Herbert’s years before Arkham. Polaroids of his days in Zürich, his time at New York University, even as far back as the years before his parents died in Ontario. Herbert had several photos of his time with Dr. Gruber, though Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a photograph of the esteemed doctor. He seemed kindly and wizened, like someone’s favorite grandfather. It was obvious, even in these sparse photos, how fond he was of Herbert.

He also didn’t think he’d ever seen a picture of Herbert pre-transition, but found himself marveling at several photographs of a stoic, flat-affect little girl with her parents. Herbert had labeled this child, in the third-person, as Susanna. “Susanna, Matthew, and Rosemary West at Waterside Park,” for instance. The girl wasn’t necessarily ugly, in Dan’s eyes, but there was something ill-fitting about her dresses, Mary Janes, and elbow-length hair. He didn’t smile once in any of the pictures, even as “Susanna,” but there was something at least moderately happier about his photos from his college years.

It was all neatly organized, chronological, and labeled to the best of Herbert’s ability and memory. Of course, all the labels were perfunctory and plain, giving the reader basic knowledge of who was in the picture and what was happening. No stickers or anything else that would have put the album in “scrapbook” territory. Dan wasn’t even aware of Herbert having

any

evidence of his life before Miskatonic. He’d never known Herbert to be a sentimental person, but he was certainly someone who kept a lot of notes and records of events. Maybe, in his mind, this was simply another means record keeping?

Daniel flipped all the way to the back of the album, trying to see how recent his “records” were. He was unable to suppress his smile as he found that the last occupied page contained the recent ultrasound photo. It didn’t have a label yet, but the intent of preservation was there. He stared down at the picture of the baby; a

girl,

he mused, he’d have a daughter

.

Dan doubted, given Herbert’s view of gender as a whole, that they’d be buying much of anything pink for the kid. Still, he wondered if, once acquiring her own autonomy, the child might be more inclined towards feminine pursuits. Dan imagined himself sitting at a tiny table for a tea party with stuffed animals and almost laughed. Then he pictured Herbert joining them and actually cackled. He hastily muffled his giggles, lest he disrupt Herbert in the other room.

Dan considered doing exactly what Herbert had mocked him about earlier; taking the sonogram picture and putting it on the fridge. But it dawned on him that, if Herbert had found him even touching this album, he’d throttle him. God knew what he’d do if Dan disrupted the preservation. He decided against the latter, but also figured it was too late to return the album to Herbert’s room. Daniel set the book aside, clicked off his lamp, and settled back down for a good night’s sleep. He’d face whatever wrath Herbert had for him in the morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dr. West looked down at his work, the inside of a middle-aged man’s chest cavity. He was about to begin a coronary bypass. The air of the operating room was heavy with the perfumes of blood and rubbing alcohol. 
To Herbert’s relief, his near constant nausea, and all the scent-related sensitivities that had accompanied it, had recently abated. It certainly made his work at the hospital much more bearable. The powerful iron-laced smell of viscera returned to its status as just another routine on-the-job aroma.

Daniel wasn’t as pleased with the development. He was relieved, of course, that Herbert was no longer vomiting at the drop of a hat or spending all hours in the bathroom. But with the ease of such symptoms came the restless urge to return to the lab, one Dan was fighting tooth and nail. Not that Dan necessarily believed in the antiquated mindset of “pregnant people should not exert themselves whatsoever,” but he did think his partner worked a bit too much than what was considered healthy. And Herbert, weasley as he was, continued to root for every possible loophole to work in the basement for as long as he saw fit. Even if it meant, with the absence of the reagent usage, that he worked himself into unconsciousness. It was an argument that would come to a head soon enough.

Dr. West turned his attention to a nearby nurse.

“Scalpel. And suction, most likely,” West instructed.

The nurse in question passed him the instrument, and Herbert bent forward over the patient, trying to ignore his irritation that his bump was pressing against the edge of the operating table. At almost twenty weeks, it was becoming harder to avoid. He pressed forward, sharpening his concentration. Herbert was about to make an incision when a strange feeling came upon him.

A fluttering, twitching sensation deep in his abdomen. It was nearly imperceptible, easily mistaken for indigestion or a muscle spasm. But it was a feeling Herbert had been waiting on for weeks.

It moved,

he thought.

I felt that.

It stopped him dead in his tracks. His mind went blank, and he forgot where he was.

“Dr. West?” The nurse spoke up, clearing his throat. “Is everything alright?”

Herbert blinked rapidly, shifting his focus back to the external.

“Mm, as I said, prepare suction.”

“Right away, doctor,” he said.

West cast his eyes back down into the patient’s exposed heart, hoping his subtle grin wasn’t showing through his mask.

/////////////////////

Once the surgery let out, West hastily rid himself of his apron and scrubs. After donning his work clothes, he hurried off to the seclusion of his office. He locked the door and closed the blinds on its window. Herbert snatched his notebook from his desk drawer, paged through it to the last entry, then hunched over it with a pen at the ready.

He made note of the date and time; he’d felt the quickening approximately two hours ago. Since then, the fetus had gone quiet, likely lulled by the movement of West walking back from the OR. Herbert sat in his chair, and without noticing it, the hand that wasn’t writing gravitated to his midriff. It rested there as he continued to jot down information, his fingers tapping lightly against the shirt fabric.

He startled as he felt it again, that bubbling sensation deep in his abdomen. Herbert reclined in his chair, flattening both palms against his moderate bump. He frowned, unable to detect anything concrete with his hands. Still, the fetus continued to squirm, making herself known to her carrier.

“Now that you’ve started, you’re not liable to stop, are you?” Herbert sniffed with false annoyance. “You’ll surely be pestering me at all hours. There goes that carefully crafted sleep schedule. Dan certainly won’t be pleased.”

West straightened at his own subconscious reminder of his partner. Daniel would want to know about this development. He flicked his wrist, eyes training on his watch. It was almost two. Herbert swore under his breath; Dan was in surgery until almost four.

As always, our

true

work must wait,

he thought bitterly.

Herbert didn’t truthfully know

why

they were both still employed at Miskatonic. Money was never an issue, even before they’d become doctors. Herbert had inherited quite a bit from Gruber after his passing, some of which he had used to continue his education at MU. But most stayed tucked away in the bank. He and Dan lived so frugally, and even with the addition of another mouth to feed in the form of Elsa, they barely made a dent in their monthly finances.

Herbert would have much rather spent his time and energy on work that

mattered.

With more hours in a day, he could envision himself finely polishing the reagent for production to research groups. But a slight stab of guilt came to him when he thought of asking Dan to be the sole breadwinner. Herbert wanted them to work

together

on what was now essentially

their

reagent, not be a stay-at-home scientist that never saw his partner. On top of this, he somewhat enjoyed his work at the hospital, even if it was simply a means to get his foot in the morgue. Having your own personal organ bank wasn’t a bad job perk.

Herbert’s pager beeped shrilly, startling him from his reverie. He hated the infernal device. Still, he certainly understood why the hospital chose to use them; they immediately pulled all nearby attention onto their demanding shrieking. It didn’t mean Herbert didn’t want to pitch his into the nearest sinkhole whenever it went off. He loathed unnecessary march of technology.

West unclipped the pager from his shirt pocket and read the message.

Urgent: Report to Room 301.

His brow furrowed. Herbert tried to remember what patient was in that room. As he did, his throat went dry. He swore, quickly returning his notes to the desk drawer and dashing from the office.

He made it to the room in what could have been record time, but slowed upon seeing that a nurse was already present. She was busy unhooking the patient from various wires and monitors, clucking her tongue all the while. West still needed to do a cursory vital check, something he could put on the paperwork. He brushed past the nurse and felt for a pulse that wasn’t there.

“He flatlined a few minutes ago. But he had a DNR order in his chart,” the nurse said. She set the clipboard down on the bed.

“You did fine. Thank you for paging me.”

The nurse was taken aback by the words of gratitude. “Of course, Dr. West. He was your patient.”

“I can contact the orderly and finish up the paperwork from here. You may continue your rounds.”

The nurse nodded, still somewhat stunned by West’s unusual manner, and left the room. Once the nurse was gone, Herbert exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time, in possibly his entire career as a doctor, he felt a sharp pang of loss for his patient. The man in question was, or had been, an elderly, terminally-ill patient with an advanced brain tumor. He had simply been waiting to die, and had only two days ago been brought into observation after a debilitating seizure.

Herbert knew he shouldn’t have cared; this man was completely inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Just another patient in the hundreds of thousands to be admitted to Miskatonic Hospital. But, reluctant as he was to admit it, Herbert thought the patient looked eerily like Hans Gruber. The resemblance pained him, and West found himself wanting to do more for the man. It hadn’t helped that, ever since the man had been admitted under his care, West had been plagued with vivid nightmares about his late mentor. Combined with the veritable cocktail of hormones he currently had coursing through his system, and Herbert found himself feeling a profound sense of grief. Grief for a complete stranger! He was appalled with himself.

Yet here he was, at the man’s bedside, trying his absolute hardest not to start crying. Damn the irritating spectrum of human emotions! Herbert forced himself to look at his former patient, focusing on how serene the man looked in death. He’d likely just slipped away. The bliss on this man’s face was a far cry from the last time West had seen Gruber. He tried to take a moment of false comfort in imagining that

this

was the way Gruber had expired; a calm drift into death’s embrace. It was certainly a more pleasant mental image than the reality. Herbert took one of the man’s cold hands in his.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” he said, and gave the hand a light squeeze.

After another few minutes at the bedside, Herbert was more sure of his emotional state. He covered the man’s head with the bedsheet and phoned the morgue. The nurses found him to be unusually quiet for the rest of the day.

////////////////

The bright, clear moonlight illuminated Dan’s walk to the cemetery. He’d brought along a flashlight just in case, but it was tucked in his jacket pocket. It would have been superfluous.

It was nearing midnight and Herbert still hadn’t come in from his after-dinner walk. He claimed that he needed some air and Dan didn’t press the matter. Herbert had been off all evening, from his silence during the car ride home, to his continued solemnity at the dinner table. He hadn’t even visited the lab once all day; Dan should’ve been pleased, but something wasn’t right. He was completely drawn inwards, brooding in that thick head of his. Dan was hoping he’d be able to persuade Herbert to come to bed.

Looking around in the clearing of the graveyard, Dan spotted Herbert easily, sitting atop one of the many headstones, scribbling something on a notepad.

“As grim a setting as this is, at least you aren’t trying to bring home any dead body parts,” Dan said.

“Would you rather I bring home

living

body parts?” Herbert said, not looking up.

“You

don’t

have any, right?”

At this, his eyes swiveled up to meet Dan’s. “No, Daniel. Not tonight. I haven’t the energy.” He flipped the notepad closed and stuffed it in his coat.

Dan awkwardly shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “It’s pretty late, Bug. You okay out here?”

“As I said, I needed some air.”

“Yeah, that was several hours ago. And you’ve been kinda quiet tonight. Are you sure everything-?”

“Everything is

fine,

Daniel.”

Herbert’s cheeks were bright red from the cold. Dan could see his body shaking. He sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dan was sure Herbert would shrug him off, but he didn’t. Nor did he lean into Dan’s hold. He remained perfectly still, jaw clenched, fists gripping his knees.

“I heard you lost a patient today,” Dan said, and added before Herbert could respond, “nurses like to gossip.”

“He was terminal. There was nothing that I or any other doctor could have done for him,” Herbert stated brusquely. “And that nurse should learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“It still hurts to lose someone you care about. No one is going to fault you for having

one

off day.”

“He was my

patient

, not a personal friend!”

“Herbert-”

“I refuse to be a victim of ridiculous, irrational feelings!”

At this he shirked off Dan’s hold and walked a few paces away. He stood facing the rest of the cemetery, his back to Dan, arms folded across his chest like a pouting child.

“Herbert, I met him. I know he looked like Gruber.”

“The resemblance was a sheer coincidence. It’s no excuse for me to get emotionally invested in a complete stranger.”

Despite his words, Dan could hear a thickness to his voice. As if to prove his theory right, Herbert sniffed. Daniel walked up behind him, gently placing a hand on his shivering shoulder.

“Maybe not, but Herb, cut yourself some slack. You’re dealing with a lot right now, your emotions are not going to be at their most stable. And it’s okay to say that you miss Gruber and that, in a way, this patient was like having him in your life again. And then, unfortunately, losing him again.”

Herbert let his head hang down, still sniffing back tears.

“I wasn’t there,” he said, his voice hitching. “I wasn’t there when he passed. No one was. He was alone in his room dying and I was only notified after it happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Herbie. Were you still in surgery?”

“No, no, I was in my office, but-” Herbert sucked in a sharp breath of realization. He turned to look at Dan, his eyes red and cheeks mottled. Flustered, Herbert brushed at the dampness on his face.

“What?” Dan asked.

“I must apologize. There’s something I neglected to tell you. Something fairly momentus occurred today.”

“Okay?”

“I,” he breathed, “felt the fetus move.”

Dan’s eyes widened, as did his smile. “Really? At work today?”

Herbert nodded, “I was in surgery when it first happened. Nothing so extraordinary, almost imperceptible, but I suppose it is reassuring to have more solid evidence of life.”

“Has she moved since?” Dan asked, still beaming.

“A few times. It can’t be felt on the surface, mind you. That’s what I had been occupied with in my office, seeing if I could feel the quickening with my hands,” Herbert’s small bit of joy faded back into sorrow like a dying candle flame.

Dan’s grin also softened in response. To his surprise, Herbert willingly walked into his arms, face pressed into Dan’s shoulder. He squeezed the smaller man in his hold, kissing the top of his head.

“Danny? If it’s not too much trouble,” Herbert’s voice was muffled by Dan’s coat, “could I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Dan pretended to think it over, clicking his tongue, “I dunno. That’s a big ask.”

Herbert held him tighter, and a twinge of pain shot through Dan’s heart. He realized he shouldn’t tease him. Not when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I think that can be arranged.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Herbert lay stretched out on the living room sofa. The sofa in question, an antique piece left over from the mortuary’s previous owner, was several years out of date and not even remotely comfortable. Herbert would’ve much preferred to be on his own bed, or better yet, upright and working in the basement. But he could barely move. He was currently incapacitated by a wicked migraine.

The visual auras had come out of nowhere, suddenly making it nion impossible to read his own notes, and for a moment Herbert thought he was going blind. When he finally confessed this concern to Dan, he knew almost instantly what was happening, and Herbert had been dragged upstairs and forced to lie down. Cain had shut all the curtains in the living room and given West a cold washcloth to put over his eyes. Despite Dan’s best efforts to curtail the migraine, it barreled on unheeded. Herbert had managed, barely, not to vomit yet; Dan had put a wastebasket by the couch just in case.

“I think the fluorescent lights set it off,” Dan commented, returning to the living room.

He set a can of ginger ale on the coffee table. Herbert heard the clink of the aluminum can on wood, but ignored it. He didn’t want to remove the washcloth.

“With the hospital and the lab, we practically live our entire lives in fluorescent lighting. I’ve never had this problem before,” Herbert griped, wincing. God, even

talking

hurt.

“You’ve also never been

pregnant

before,” Dan said. “Your body may react differently to all sorts of things.”

Dan sat at the other end of the couch, letting Herbert rest his feet in his lap. He pulled the shoes off his partner’s feet, letting them thump to the floor. Curious, he pulled back one of his pant legs, and smirked to himself.

“I’m surprised you still fit in your shoes. Your ankles aren’t particularly svelte, lately.”

“Thank you, Daniel, I knew something was missing from my day: verbal abuse,” Herbert groused.

Dan rolled his eyes. “That’s a tish overdramatic, Herb. It was merely an observation. You should probably be spending more time off your feet.”

“Buy a new couch and I might consider it,” he said.

Dan raised his brows in consideration. “Not a bad idea, really. We probably do need some new furniture before the kid gets here, not just baby things. Some of this stuff is a safety hazard. Maybe we should make a list of ways we can baby-proof the house.”

Herbert regretted mentioning the couch. It didn’t dawn on him that it might lead to infant-related topics. They’d managed to stay off the topic of their unborn “experiment” for most of the day, almost a full twenty-four hours! Then he’d had to go and ruin that record by opening his big mouth. While he continued resting his eyes, Dan had begun paging through one of the many parenting books that had been sitting on the coffee table, his reading glasses resting on his nose.

“Now that I think about it, we might want to start sleeping in the same bed long-term. If we want the baby to have an actual nursery. We only have so many rooms without encroaching on Elsa’s space,” Dan continued.

Herbert cringed at this notion. While not repulsed by the idea of sharing a bed with Dan, Herbert wasn’t also necessarily keen on it, and he’d dug in his heels on all suggestions that had arisen in the past for a more permanent arrangement. Not just because they had two vastly different sleep schedules, but Dan was a sleep-talker. And he snored. Herbert was a light sleeper with very sensitive hearing.

Likewise, Dan would complain about Herbert’s tendency to hog the blankets or accidentally kick Dan in his sleep. But mostly, Herbert couldn’t deny the bliss of having private quarters. Something he’d surely crave more often once there was yet another member of the household, making shrill noises and taking up space.

Why

had he wanted this, again?

“And I presume you’d want me to give up

my

room for this endeavor?” Herbert scoffed.

“Well, I

do

have the master bedroom. Seems a bit silly to make that the baby’s room.”

West considered this. “What if we grow sick of sharing a bed?”

“Then you can move into the basement,” Dan jested.

“Don’t tempt me, Cain.”

“Y’know, most

normal

couples sleep in the same bed. Did your parents sleep like Ricky and Lucy or something?”

“I would hardly know if their sleeping arrangement matched that of some friends of yours.”

Daniel laughed. “Wow, you

really

did not watch much TV as a kid, didja Herbie?”

Herbert sniffed dismissively and shifted his body slightly, his hands coming to rest on his stomach. Dan knew that his spouse was very tactile, always needing to do something with his hands, never content with just stuffing them in his pockets. From adjusting his tie to drumming his fingers on the table, his fingers were never still. Ever since Dan had found out about the pregnancy, he’d noticed that Herbert’s hands frequently gravitated to his midriff, even before he’d started showing. He didn’t dare mention this observation to Herbert; he’d stop doing it immediately. And Dan relished the moments he caught him doing it.

Just as Dan was considering getting up and fetching a notepad, intending to make a list of baby supplies, Herbert jumped, like something had startled him.

“You okay?” Dan asked, looking up from his reading.

Herbert peeled the washcloth off his eyes, cringing at the light of the living room, dim as it was. “A chill, I think. It’s been getting colder outside.”

“Want me to turn the heat up? Or you can have one of my sweaters if you want.”

“No, no,” Herbert said, biting his lip. He glanced towards his stomach. “Actually, the fetus moved.”

“Yeah. She’s been doing that a lot, lately,” Dan smirked.

“Yes, but,” he hesitated, “I felt it with my

hands.

”

Dan’s eyes were suddenly the size of dinner plates. He all but chucked his book out the window. “You

did

? Oh my God, what did it feel like? Do you think I could-?”

He reached towards Herbert’s bump before West clamped his hand around his wrist. “Excuse me! What the

hell

do you think you’re doing?”

Dan’s smile fell. “Oh, I just thought I could…do you not want me to?”

A stab of guilt coursed through Herbert’s heart. Of course Dan would be excited. A bright red flush arose in his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

“I would simply appreciate you garnering consent beforehand. Bodily autonomy and such,” Herbert muttered.

Reluctantly, he lowered Dan’s hand onto his stomach. Even without the presence of movement, Dan brightened again.

“We should try talking to her,” he suggested.

Herbert rolled his eyes, ignoring the fact that he’d already done so multiple times, somewhat reflexively. Cain didn’t need to know that.

“Ridiculous,” Herbert scoffed in irritation.

Daniel was about to respond when he felt a light tapping underneath his palm. His grin was almost too big for his face. Even without his glasses, Herbert could see the sheer joy in his expression. His heart skipped; he hadn’t seen Dan this happy in months. Maybe years. It was a welcome reminder of why he was putting himself through this in the first place. 
Ah, he thought, there it is. That’s why.
“Whoa,” Dan breathed. “She kicked! That’s amazing! I really felt that!”

“Your skills of perception are astounding, Daniel,” Herbert said flatly.

“That must feel so weird on your end.”

“Frankly, I don’t have anything to compare it to. If anything, it’s quite annoying.”

“You can’t honestly tell me you’re not the least bit excited about this,” Dan said, his broad smile turning into a quiet grin.

West’s face reddened further, his eyes dipping down. “It’s something to note in terms of fetal development. I’ll be sure to jot it down in my journal later. When my head stops pounding.”

Dan raised his eyebrow in a way that Herbert found, privately, very alluring. Loathe as he was to admit this to either Daniel or himself, Herbert had felt unusually

bothered

lately. In his normal frame of mind, more often than not, one could possibly call him “sex repulsed.” At the very least, “sex ambivalent.” Intercourse was simply a waste of time and energy with very little payoff. And human bodies blurred together into one common mass of flesh when you studied them incessantly, day in and day out.

But more recently, though he didn’t feel especially attractive, he certainly found Daniel to be. He found himself staring for longer than usual when Dan was toweling off from his shower or changing into his after-work attire. If Dan had noticed this change in behavior, he hadn’t said anything, and Herbert wasn’t always good at reading his expressions. West knew this was likely all a side effect of his fluctuating hormones, and tried to reason with himself as such. But, much as he tried to suppress them, he knew his frequent feelings of arousal were amounting to a volatile powder-keg.

With as close as Dan was sitting, Cain could unknowingly count himself lucky Herbert didn’t feel well. He could have very well taken him then and there. Dan likely would have been much happier about that development than Herbert.

He finally brushed off Dan’s touch and lay supine again, placing the washcloth back over his eyes. Daniel picked up his book again. After a few minutes, he heard the creaking of floorboards as Elsa wandered into the room.

“Hey, Els’.” Dan said, not looking up.

“Hey.”

Elsa was dressed in her usual attire, which always made her look a bit like a frumpy librarian. Oversized sweaters similar to Dan’s, a blouse underneath, a long pleated skirt, knee-high socks, and loafers. Her hair remained in a persistent state of disarray. Give her a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and some bangs, and she would have fit right in with a collegiate mathlete team. Being clothed by two men who hadn’t a single fashionable bone in their bodies left her wardrobe with a lot to be desired. Elsa had no memory of what she might’ve worn when she was still Gloria, but she liked to think it was a bit more flattering than her current selection. Not that she ever complained. No one aside from her father-figures ever saw her.

She eyed her prone guardian. “Is Herbert okay?”

“Migraine. He’ll be fine in a bit.”

“Mm. Are migraines a common side effect of pregnancy?”

“Well, they’re not super comm-” Dan paused, finally looking up and narrowing his eyes at Elsa.

Herbert took the washcloth off his eyes again, glancing between his partner and their creature. Elsa simply stood there, sipping from a can of soda.

“Hang on a sec, you

know

about the pregnancy?” Dan asked.

“Uh, duh. Kind of hard not to. I mean, you’ve got piles of baby books everywhere,” Elsa rolled her eyes.

Dan eyed the stack of library books on the coffee table, setting aside the one in his hands. “Alright. Good point.”

“And you two had a big fight about it right in front of me when you found out.”

“Another good point,” Dan conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He felt like an idiot. Of

course

Elsa already knew. She was incredibly observant and they had all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. It was a wonder their own colleagues weren’t already planning their baby shower.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Herbert asked.

Elsa shrugged, “Was it a big secret?”

Herbert and Dan looked at each other.

“Well,” Dan scrambled, “we certainly weren’t

keeping

it from you-”

“It’s the same reason I hadn’t wanted to tell Daniel,” Herbert stated plainly. “It wasn’t set in stone. We were waiting until the beginning of the last trimester to bring it up.”

“Because Herbert West likes to put off all confrontation until the last possible minute,” Dan smirked with a hint of irritation. He could feel Herbert scowling at him.

“Even without the other signs, I think I would have noticed the weight gain before then,” Elsa said. “You’re fairly thin, so the change in appearance is more…apparent.”

She hadn’t meant it as a jab, merely a statement of a fact, but Dan snorted. “She’s got a point, Herb.”

If Herbert was red before, now he was a deep scarlet. He placed the rag back over his eyes, clinching it with his fists.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Elsa said. She came by her frank manner honestly, given the behavior of the man who reanimated her.

Dan waved her off. “It’s not you. Herb’s a little moodier than usual.”

“You’re on

thin

fucking ice, Cain,” West said, a menacing edge to his tone.

Elsa changed the subject. “I was actually coming to ask if I could go for a walk? It’s a little late, but if it’s okay with you, I won’t be gone long.”

“Sure. Be back in an hour or so. Just leftovers for dinner,” Dan said. “And put on a coat.”

Elsa scuttled out the door, trying to get away from the tense situation as quickly as possible. She slammed the front door, unintentionally, the noise sending a spike of pain through Herbert’s skull. He groaned as a wave of nausea passed over him.

“She took that well,” Dan chimed. “I was a little worried. Might have more questions later, but so far so good.” When Herbert didn’t respond, Dan asked, “Did you ever properly tell her that you’re…?”

“Yes.”

“Was she fazed by it?”

Herbert considered this for a moment. The topic had come up rather accidentally. A few months after her rebirth, Elsa had started menstruating, something both of her creators had somewhat forgotten was a possibility. Herbert found an old box of pads he’d stashed away “just in case” and passed them on to Elsa. After years on testosterone, even the occasional spotting had ceased, and he was fairly certain his cycle had ended for good. Though slightly confused at first, given Herbert’s outward appearance, Elsa shrugged it off just as quickly. Everything she’d seen in the house over the past few months, primarily in the lab, a man with a uterus didn’t seem

that

abnormal. Or so Herbert assumed was her reasoning. The subject hadn’t been discussed much, otherwise.

“Not terribly,” West said.

“Do you think Gloria ever wanted kids?” Dan asked, a question that had spawned in his brain right that second.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t often ask my patients personal questions like that,” Herbert said, a knowing tone in his voice.

Now it was Dan’s turn to be embarrassed. He knew he’d gone too far with his connection to Gloria, and ever since her passing, had made a promise to Herbert as well as himself that he wouldn’t develop that kind of attachment to a patient again. A little hard in practice with “Gloria,” as she now lived under his roof. Or a variation of Gloria. But it was safe to say they now shared a different sort of connection.

Daniel thought back to her file, which Herbert had craftily pilfered from the Miskatonic records and tucked somewhere in the lab, trying to remember if it had said anything about psychological conditions. He didn’t think so, as they’d both been surprised that Elsa was so delayed upon reanimation. No, mentally, she really had been “quite well,” as Herbert expressed.

“Maybe we could try psychiatric hypnosis,” Dan said. “See if any ‘Gloria’ memories crop up.”

“Hypnosis? You believe in that pseudoscience?” Herbert chuckled dismissively.

“You cannot talk about pseudoscience, Dr. Frankenstein.”

“He wasn’t even a doctor, you know,” Herbert muttered. “He was essentially a college dropout.”

“He’s also

fictional,

Captain Literal.”

Herbert folded his arms and huffed. He didn’t like to be reminded of how his mind corrected every little detail.

Dan smiled sympathetically, almost able to read Herbert’s thoughts.

“I love your brain and all its little eccentricities,” he said, kissing the closest area of his partner he could reach, which was the top of his foot.

This earned him a moderate smirk, which Dan accepted as forgiveness. He took it; Daniel got so few victories, lately.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Herbert awoke to find himself laying in a hospital bed, the bright overhead lights causing him to wince. He had no memory of how he’d gotten there, and his eyes darted around the room in mild panic. Before he could even begin to understand what was happening, Daniel had leaned towards him and pressed a kiss to his temple. Herbert reeled away from him in immediate anxiety from the public display of affection. Dan seemed completely unfazed.

“You did so great,” he beamed. “They’re getting her all cleaned up.”

Herbert blanched as he understood what Dan was implying. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. He turned away from Dan to look across the room. It was a much longer room than he was expecting, seeming to be a darkened tunnel as opposed to a hospital room. Two nurses hunched over a spotlighted natal bassinet, the contents of which was obscured by their bodies. Discarded towels on the floor were stained with, not blood, but the familiar neon glow of reagent.

Oh god,

he thought.

Did it happen…here?

Herbert buried his face in his hands. He tried to remember any of the past few hours, but couldn’t even recall the past few minutes. Hearing the scuffing of footsteps, he looked up in time to see one of the nurses trying to shift a small bundle of blankets into his arms. He was reluctant to take it, and hoped Dan might intervene. But Dan wasn’t there anymore. Herbert was unsure if he’d ever been there to begin with.

Somehow, the bundle was now resting in his arms, and Herbert felt an abrupt pull from his curious nature. Compelled to get a closer look at his newest creation, he pulled away the first layer of the blankets, a sharp gasp in horror at what lay against his chest. A rather large Cuzco iguana was swaddled in place of a human infant. He dropped it in his lap in surprise and the lizard scrabbled away.

///////////////////

Herbert awoke with a slight jolt. His heart was still racing from the nightmare, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. West rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the dark, noting from the glowing numbers of his alarm clock that it was three in the morning.

Certain details of the dream were already beginning to fade, and Herbert was all too happy to let them. But he kept envisioning himself giving birth to the iguana, and he knew his remaining hopes for a good night’s sleep had been instantly crushed. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the fetus picked that exact moment to do a somersault.

“Your timing is impeccable,” he snarked to his stomach.

Herbert realized that if he wanted to even attempt to fall back asleep, a visit to the bathroom was in order. He snatched his glasses from the nightstand and eased himself to his feet. Padding into the dark hallway, he noticed the faint glow of light emanating from the first floor. Elsa’s door was shut tight, a good sign she was still asleep, but Dan’s was wide open. Even with no lights on in the room, Herbert could tell Dan wasn’t in his bed. West decided to investigate the first floor, after using the toilet of course.

Feeling a great deal better after relieving his bladder, Herbert descended the stairs to the foyer. The light was coming from the kitchen. Herbert shuffled into the other room, where Dan sat at the table, hunched over a mug of steaming tea. His normally carefully styled hair was now flattened and cowlicked by sleep, and -as if just to tempt Herbert- he was clothed only in a pair of boxers. To avoid staring openly at his bare torso, he fixed his eyes on Dan’s face. Herbert noticed his eyes were red, like he’d been crying. Dan glanced up at his partner, and gave him a weary smile.

“Hey,” Dan said, not sounding at all surprised by Herbert’s arrival.

“Good evening.”

“Morning, actually. Still, I haven’t been up too long,” Dan suddenly looked concerned. “Oh God, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Herbert dismissed this with a wave of his hand as he sat down across from Dan, “I wasn’t sleeping well.”

“Kiddo giving you fits?” Dan tipped his mug towards Herbert’s bump.

“Rather upsetting dreams, actually.”

“Your parents, again?”

It took a moment for Herbert’s foggy brain to process what Dan was inquiring about. “My wh- oh, no. It wasn’t

that

dream.”

Herbert had endured a recurring nightmare several times a year since he was thirteen, a nightmare Dan only learned about after one occasion of seeing Herbert crying in his sleep. The dream involved his childhood home being engulfed in flames, having to hear his mother and father burning alive behind a door he can’t open. Ultimately, the terror always ended before a resolution, but Herbert had maintained the notion that he couldn’t save them.

Because he couldn’t save them in reality, either. Why should a dream be different?

Herbert usually had this nightmare when he was already stressed, so it was no surprise to him that he had it frequently after the visceral death of Dr. Gruber. Now

he

was in the burning house, too.

Though hearing his parents burning to death behind a locked door was a figment of Herbert’s imagination, the

real

inferno had still been harrowing. He’d been up late, tooling with chemicals he’d frankly had no business messing with at his age. When the chemicals had inevitably combusted, the flames had blocked his bedroom door. He’d escaped by half-climbing, half-falling down the trellis outside his window. Clothed only in his nightgown and glasses, he stood paralyzed from shock on the front lawn until a neighbor called the fire department.

The child psychologist who analyzed him afterwards was convinced, at least somewhat, that Herbert was guilty of arson. But, ultimately, no charges were ever pressed. It didn’t help that his reaction to the death of his parents was emotionally underwhelming to all involved. Or, at the very least, vexing. He didn’t cry, didn’t get angry, didn’t even seem to mourn. He simply shut down, refusing to talk to anyone for several weeks after the incident. The authorities kept him in pediatric psych observation for quite a while, but eventually he was released into the Ontario foster system. Unlike many of his foster siblings, Herbert had living family members. But being the quiet, analytical, thoroughly antisocial child he was, no one in the West family claimed him. He told himself he didn’t care, he’d not been close to any of his extended family, but couldn’t quite deny that hollow pain of rejection.

What the counselors and foster parents couldn’t see was that Herbert’s grief was all internal. Over the years, it festered and hardened like a persistent ulcer, always reminding him of its existence at the worst possible moments. Herbert blamed himself then for his parents’ deaths, and he continued to blame himself as an adult. He hadn’t been particularly close to his mother or father, was even convinced they were somewhat scared of him, but they were still his

parents.

They were all he knew.

“What was it about?” Dan asked, interrupting Herbert’s train of thought.

“What?” he asked. His head was still half asleep, the other half buried in his memories.

“The dream. Though, it sounds more like a nightmare from your reaction.”

Herbert considered telling Dan about the contents of his vision, but suddenly realized how ridiculous the whole thing sounded.

He finally shook his head, “It wasn’t important.”

Thinking that a bit of tea sounded nice, Herbert reached for the mug, which Dan abruptly covered and pulled away from him.

“Uh, you don’t want this. It’s not

just

tea,” Dan admitted sheepishly. “Can’t imagine whiskey would be good for the kid.”

Herbert frowned, “Imbibing this late won’t help your lack of sleep. I’m sure I’ve told you this.”

He scowled, immediately defensive.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t know what else to do when I-” Daniel’s mouth clamped shut. He laced his fingers together, clenching his fists under his nose. Tears were forming in his eyes, which Dan opted to ignore.

Herbert pursed his lips. The red eyes, the agitation, the flushed cheeks, the alcohol. Sometimes, if rarely, he could read Dan like a book.

“Peru?” Herbert asked simply.

Dan swallowed hard and nodded. If Herbert’s night terrors often involved his parents, Dan’s often involved Peru. The Peruvian civil war they’d been a part of had been harder on Dan’s mentality than he cared to admit. He likely suffered from some form of PTSD, though he was quick to deny it if anyone ever inquired. Dan told himself he was fine. He simply didn’t watch movies about war, avoided news regarding the military, and held a firm rule about not discussing South America. If he followed his guidelines, Dan lied to himself, he was absolutely fine.

“You really should talk to someone about these night terrors,” Herbert chided.

“I don’t

want

to talk about them, Herbert, I want to ignore them. If I ignore them, they’ll go away.”

Herbert scoffed, “Trauma isn’t like some grade-school bully, Daniel. It’s been three years since Peru. If the terrors were going to leave on their own, they’d be gone by now.”

Dan’s body went rigid, his jaw set in irritation.

“I merely think it might behoove you to see a psychologist,” Herbert said.

“Yeah, it would. A marriage counselor. For both of us,” Dan said dryly, continuing to sip his hot toddy.

“Oh come now, I was being serious.”

“I don’t need a

shrink

. The nightmares aren’t nearly as frequent as they used to be,” Dan tried to brush it off.

“To call something ‘infrequent’ does not mean ‘entirely absent,’ Danny.”

“So, you want me to talk it out? Next you’ll be wanting me to journal about my feelings and sing kumbaya.”

Herbert cast him a look that told him this notion was preposterous.

Dan tried to ignore how concerned Herbert sounded when he’d suggested therapy, certainly as concerned as someone like Herbert could sound. Daniel refused to admit that he had any lingering trauma, though if he was to admit it, he would have to fess up that he had quite a lot of it. Not just regarding Peru, but losing his parents as an infant, the following eighteen years being raised by his devout, misandrist aunt Mildred, and most recently, the loss of Meg. The last of which resurfaced quite brutally when faced with the death of Gloria, but had somewhat ebbed in the time since Elsa’s arrival.

What Herbert didn’t realize was that, were Dan to actually see a counselor, much of his history would have to be edited for outsider consumption. Primarily the portions of his life that involved the resurrection of corpses, the killing of cops and anatomy professors, the graverobbing, doing homosapien-collage with discarded body parts, and though far less controversial than all other points, the fact that Dan was in a committed relationship with another man. A man who any sensible psychologist would tell Dan to divorce ASAP. He almost smiled at the thought of trying to explain all of this to a therapist, who no doubt would be absolutely horrified by Dan’s personal history.

If he started talking about his past, he’d never stop. No, it was best if he kept a lid on everything, and treat any lingering issues with self-medication by booze or weed. Oh yeah, his plan was airtight

.

“I’m not going to a therapist,” Dan said, gulping down the rest of his drink. “Besides, you are

certainly

one to talk about unresolved trauma.”

Herbert narrowed his eyes, “That is a ludicrous accusation.”

“Is it? Because I’m pretty sure you’re still kicking yourself over your folk’s

and

Gruber’s deaths. You’re in as deep denial as I am.”

Herbert blanched at the mere mention of his former mentor. After a moment of silence in which Dan worried he’d gone too far, Herbert at last nodded, his eyes on the ground, “Point taken.”

Dan softened. “Y’know, I’m here if you ever need to-”

“As I’ve told you

many

times, do not enjoy discussing my emotions, Daniel!” Herbert said firmly. “Be it with you or anyone else. Simply experiencing emotions is frustrating enough. Besides, I saw enough psychologists to last a lifetime after my parents passed, then got a second heaping helping after Gruber’s death.”

The venom that laced his voice suggested that Herbert found the act of talking about his feelings to be absolutely revolting, equal in his mind to willingly drinking a glass of spoiled milk. Dan didn’t find this surprising in the slightest. Long before they’d even met, Herbert had constructed a thick wall between himself and his emotions. Dan often speculated it was built after the fire, but maybe it had always been there.

A casual observer of Herbert West might think that he didn’t experience the spectrum of normal human emotions, except occasional periods of anger, pride, or envy. But, having spent enough time around him, Dan knew better. He’d learned that West was just incredibly calculating about everything, including how he experienced any and all internal turmoil. He was still human -regardless of what Herbert himself chose to believe- and his distress often overflowed into his dreams.

Dan knew the real reason Herbert didn’t enjoy sleeping, and despite what the man claimed, it wasn’t because the act wasted precious work time.

Dan took a moment to appraise his partner. The bags under his eyes, his sleep-tousled hair, a faded Talking Heads tee that once belonged to Dan that covered his torso, his pale and lanky arms crossed over his twenty-three weeks stomach. He was briefly amused by the notion that Herbert and he had essentially swapped energy levels. While Dan was wired for sound, Herbert looked like he was about to fall asleep in his chair.

“What?” Herbert finally groused, having endured Dan’s staring for almost a full minute.

“Nothing. Did you want to go back to bed?”

“I’m not sure I’d sleep,” he said, but he was suffocating a yawn as he said it.

“You positive about that?” Dan grinned.

Herbert glanced at the clock on the microwave. 3:37. A few hours yet to go before dawn. Arguably too early to start the day. He stared wistfully down the dark hallway, towards the basement door. Dan would never consent to Herbert spending his hours before dawn in the lab. In Dan’s mind, at least recently, the laboratory was off limits from 9pm to 6am.

Herbert finally nodded resolutely, “I suppose I’ve nothing better to do than lie awake and stare at the ceiling.”

“Thinking about where you went wrong in life?” Dan smirked.

This elicited the smallest of smiles in Herbert. He wearily got to his feet and eyed Dan expectantly.

“One sec,” he said, setting his empty mug in the sink.

He joined Herbert as they slowly ambled up the stairs.

“So, really, what was the dream about?”

Herbert fought a snort, “That our offspring needed to exist on a diet of kale and live in the rainforest.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Forget it.”

As they were about to split off into their respective bedrooms, Dan paused and nodded towards the door at the end of the hall.

“Just want to make sure Elsa’s still out,” he said.

The duo peeked in on their, from appearances, still snoozing creation. The dim glow of the nightlight shone on her pale face, her eyes shut tight. Dan, satisfied by his short appraisal, made to return to his bed. Herbert remained, listening to Cain pad down the hallway, but still focused on Elsa.

Doesn’t Elsa usually snore?

The thought tugged at the back of his mind until a cold, sickly sensation washed over him. Herbert watched the blankets on her bed as they remained eerily still. His anxiety finally got the better of him and he strode into the room, placing his hand on her neck. Even before trying to feel for a pulse, he was immediately aware of how cold her skin was. A panicked, choking sensation seized his throat. He let out a frightened sound akin to a croak.

“Dan,” Herbert muttered, then cried out, “

Dan!

”

Dan doubled back into Elsa’s room. “What?”

“Elsa’s not breathing!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

(Several Months Earlier)

“I really do

not

want to go down there.”

“I don’t think the damage will be as bad as we’re anticipating.”

“I’m sorry, were we in the same basement?”

“Technically, we were in the crypt when-”

“Sarcasm, Herb.”
“You mean a rhetorical question, Daniel,” Herbert sniffed. 
Dan, who frankly looked like he’d been through the wringer, gave him a dead-eyed glare.

Cain looked as if someone had taken out his brain, filled it with a frappéd mixture of anger, anxiety, and depression, then stuck it back in his head. Except they’d added too much anger by a few teaspoons. A deep, tensing part of Herbert’s gut was telling him their relationship, whatever it was, was certifiably over. Completely dead. DNR. Not even their reagent could fix something

this

dead.

Their reagent…

their reagent!

Herbert groaned inwardly as the memory of his and Dan’s creation tipping over the entire vat of their surplus serum flooded back to him. That had taken months to fill, uncountable hours of careful measurement and precise data, all down the drain.

Literally,

he thought, as the reagent had likely flowed down the grates in the floor.

The sewer rats would be

interesting

this year. Herbert tried not to think about the untold environmental problems he’d just unleashed on Essex County. A visit from the EPA was the least of his worries. He should have been thinking of an argument to convince Daniel to stay. But, to his frustration, his mind was choked by TV static. Leaving Arkham seemed like a completely reasonable option for both of them, but Herbert still wanted to collect what little remained -if anything- of his notes and reagent ingredients.

“You coming? I’m not cleaning this up by myself.”

Herbert snapped out of his fugue to find Dan halfway down the basement stairs, and rushed after him. They were quickly reminded of the damage before even arriving in the lab. The door had been busted in by Chapham and the rest of Hill’s minions. Splintered remains of it lay everywhere. What remained of the door only reached Dan’s waist.

“I suppose this secondary door was a bit pointless, anyway,” Dan muttered.

Herbert personally disagreed, but said nothing. Dan reached through the massive gap and unlocked the door from the other side, feeling a little silly. He tried to open what was left of the door, but realized stupidly that it was ALSO locked by a hefty bolt in the ceiling

.

One he couldn’t quite get to. Dan couldn’t open the door, so he wouldn’t be able to move the barricade that remained inside the lab. Not from the outside. And he couldn’t fit through the gap. Dan eyed his smaller, more limber partner sheepishly.

“Could you-?”

“Oh, very well,” Herbert sighed.

He effortlessly squeezed himself through the hole and into the somewhat dimmed laboratory. Herbert then began clearing the furniture and various debris that blocked the door. Something clattered behind him, in the far darkened corners of the basement. West straightened up and looked around, but was unable to discern what caused the noise. As far as both he and Daniel were aware, all of his “morbid doodles” had been buried in the crypt collapse. Along with Lt. Chapham, the rest of the zombies, and -

thank God

- the flying head of Dr. Hill.

The fate of their reanimated “Gloria,” however, remained unknown. They’d been forced to leave her behind in order to make a hasty exit through the mausoleum and into Derleth Cemetery, quickly losing track of her in the chaos. Dan had prioritized Francesca’s wellbeing over “Gloria’s,” something Herbert was still irritated about. All the same, he supposed Francesca did suffer a serious neck wound from their creation’s bite, which needed prompt medical attention. They’d made peace with the fact that their girl had likely been torn to shreds by Hill’s zombies, calling to mind the death of Dean Halsey, or crushed in an attempt to escape with them. If Herbert felt any sense of loss, it was only in regards to the months of work he and Dan had poured into building her.

“Herb? All good?”

West nodded, turning back to his task of dismantling the barricade. Once the half-door was unblocked and the bolt was unlatched, Dan, feeling a little stupid as he did so, opened it and walked into the lab. Dan took in the damage, which as Herbert had speculated, actually wasn’t too awful. It was primarily material-based instead of structural. Shattered glassware, broken furniture, toppled cabinets, and a dense layer of sticky green reagent sludge that covered most of the concrete flooring. Damaged items could be replaced, the floor could be pressure-washed.

This

was doable.

“Ugh!” Dan peeled his foot off the ground, strings of luminescent gunk sticking to his shoe. “Man, they really did a number down he-”

“Shh.” Herbert held up a finger. Underneath Dan’s words, Herbert had heard another peculiar sound.

“What are yo-”

“Quiet! Something else is down here,” he whispered frantically.

After a minute, Dan heard it too. A faint whimpering sound coming from an unknown source. He scanned the room without moving, but didn’t see anything. Cain felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as he snatched up his trusty wooden slugger from atop a high shelf. He tried not to think about poor Rufus, whose blood was likely still on the bat on some microscopic level. Dan inched further into the lab, Herbert nervously trailing him like a shadow.

“You have my express permission, Dan. If you see something, kill it.”

Oh goody gumdrops.

More

death

. Just what Dan needed in his life.

Dan tracked the whimpering to one of the far corners of the laboratory. Whatever it was, monster or animal -or

both

- was obscured by a large gurney that had toppled onto its side. A white sheet stained with dried blood covered the creature further.

Dan nodded his head towards the sheet, readying his weapon. Herbert yanked it off and Dan had to forcibly stop himself from swinging the bat. It was Gloria, or their amalgamated recreation of Gloria, cowering against the wall. Her lower legs were pinned under the heavy gurney. Her hands were lifted to her face in terrified self-defense. Blood seeped from her gaping wounds, not just the ones on her legs, but her arms, neck, and torso. It was a wonder she hadn’t passed out from plasma loss.

“Gloria?!” Dan cried.

Before Herbert could stop him, he tossed the bat aside and knelt down to her level. She made panicked noises of refusal, and scratched at Dan’s arm when he got too close. She was so much like a wounded animal, they wouldn’t have been surprised if she tried to chew her own legs off to escape. Dan backed away from the situation, examining where her nails had dragged through his arm. Herbert peeked at it; it wasn’t as deep as he anticipated.

“Probably just needs some peroxide.”

“What do we do?” Dan whispered in frustration. “About her, I mean.”

“Well,” Herbert said, “I think there are one or two bullets left in Chapham’s gun, though my counting may have been off.”

“Herbert,” Dan growled, “we are
not
going to put her down like some lame

horse

.”

“If you were to hypothesize about her potential quality of life-”

“

NO

, West!”

Herbert looked at Dan with a disgruntled expression, as if Dan had just told him he couldn’t eat dessert before dinner.

Dan glanced back at “Gloria,” still stuck beneath the gurney.

“We made her,” Dan began.

“Oh, it’s ‘we’ now?” Herbert griped, folding his arms.

“
We
made her,” Dan continued gruffly, “so we need to take responsibility for her.”

“Daniel, we are looking at months of physical and occupational therapy, essentially teaching her how to live, on top of more needed skin grafts for her exposed musculature.”

“And you didn’t think to acquire the grafts while we were still

building

her?”

Herbert looked away, “I admit, I may have been a bit preoccupied by the gross anatomy.”

Dan took a deep breath, “Look, I don’t need more death right now. So, why don’t we try seeing if we can get her placated and cleaned up. I don’t much feel like taking ‘Lennie’ over there out back and telling her about the rabbits. Not tonight, anyway.”

Herbert pursed his lips, finally walking over to the frightened woman. He knelt in front of her, taking a pen-light from his pocket. Gloria’s eyes dilated with the light, appearing hypnotized by it. He clicked it off and stuffed it back in his breast pocket.

“Ms. Walker?” Herbert said. “Are your auditory functions still intact?”

She’d heard him, and vocalized a soft grunt, though West was unsure if she’d truly understood his question. Herbert wasn’t exactly sure why she wasn’t talking. She’d been relatively verbal upon her rebirth, but he speculated she was somewhat in shock from everything that had transpired the day prior.

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” Herbert asked. He hoped he could coax out at least a word or two.

But the creature didn’t respond, distractedly looking around the room. She tried to push against the gurney that still pinned her legs to the ground, making vocalizations of distress.

“Help me with this,” Herbert instructed, and Dan assisted him in hauling the gurney upright.

Despite no longer being trapped, their creature made no immediate attempt to escape. West knelt back down, carefully examining her legs. He used his thumbs to apply pressure to the hematomas, and Gloria grunted and squirmed, so he released his hold. Her legs were bruised, probably quite tender, but he doubted anything had been broken.

“Do you think you can stand?” Herbert said.

Gloria examined her creator cautiously, allowing him to grasp her hands and guide her to her feet. Her legs wobbled, and Dan rushed to grab her arm for additional support. They’d both forgotten how

tall

they’d built her. She was easily over six feet, and though Dan wasn’t much shorter than her, Herbert, on the other hand, was easily dwarfed by her stature. Her whole body shaking unsteadily, the doctors walked their creation to a nearby table. She was still shivering, and Dan grabbed a nearby sheet, possibly the only one in the lab not stained with blood, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“We should probably get some clothes for her,” Dan said, trying to ignore how beet red he’d turned. Even being several years out of medical school, he still became a little flustered at the sight of a naked woman. At least, one in his own home.

Herbert merely scoffed, “Perhaps we should first see if her mental faculties are intact before taking her to the local mall.”

“She was fine yesterday,” Dan said. “But you’ve got a point; she hasn’t said a word.”

The woman’s eyes darted between the two men in front of her. She looked like a criminal under interrogation, liable to bolt, but she remained seated all the same. Dan approached her, giving her what he hoped was a gentle smile. Her eyes widened, and she gripped the sheet a little tighter.

“Do you remember who we are?” Dan asked. He gestured between himself and Herbert.

She narrowed her eyes, the gears in her brain turning ever so slowly.

After opening and closing her mouth a few times, she forced out, “...Dan?”

His grin broadened, “Good! How ‘bout him?”

She scrutinized Herbert for several seconds. To his credit, West did not shy away from her gaze, but watched her with a studious expression. At last, she finally shook her head.

Herbert sighed, “But

Dan

you know!”

“I can’t help it if you weren’t there when she woke up,” Dan muttered under his breath. “Besides, she probably does remember you, deep down, but there’s no telling what being brain-dead did to her memory.”

Herbert “hmmed” and walked to a nearby file cabinet. One that, by some miracle, was still standing. He opened a drawer with a satisfying “clack” and began pilfering through the various documents. After a moment, he withdrew a, somewhat thick, manila file. He paged through the documents within.

“What’s that?” Dan finally asked.

Herbert didn’t look up. “Gloria’s file.”

“You

stole

Gloria’s file?” Dan was incredulous.

“Daniel, I stole Gloria’s

head

.”

Well,

Dan thought,

he’s got me there.

“As I suspected. No prior history of psychiatric evaluations, no mental illness in the family, nothing that would point to problems with memory.”

“Is there even information

about

her family in there?”

Herbert further scrutinized the various records in her file. “I’m not finding anything. Even in regards to her emergency contacts.”

“Did she really not have any contacts? Or did you just make a point of destroying the evidence.”

Herbert scowled at Dan. “I wouldn’t have used her head if I thought someone would miss her.”

Dan very much doubted that, but said nothing. He regarded their creature, still shivering on the exam table. He picked up a nearby towel, not as clean as the sheet around her shoulders, and began dabbing at the excess blood that seeped from her stitching. She flinched a little at the contact, but made no vocalizations.

“We’ll have to take her upstairs if we want to get any proper cleaning done down here,” Dan said, eyes roving around the hellacious mess of a basement.

Herbert agreed to help move “Gloria” up to the first floor. At first, she seemed reluctant to use the stairs, but muscle memory returned quicker than they’d anticipated, and they were able to steer her out of the basement. Herbert left her and Dan, returning to the basement to start on the cleaning. After laying down a protective towel, Daniel sat the creature on the couch, and switched on the TV. Not sticking around to see what she was watching, Dan bolted upstairs to grab her some clothes. A few minutes later, he returned with an old sweater of his and a pair of gym shorts. “Gloria” was entranced by the television, the black and white imagery reflecting in her shiny eyes. She reached out towards the glass screen, her hand bouncing back in surprise, startled by the unexpected barrier.

Daniel realized, with a sense of ironic amusement, that she was watching James Whale’s “The Bride of Frankenstein.” It was towards the end of the movie, where Elsa Lanchester’s Bride rises from the slab with the help of Frankenstein and Pretorius. They watched it mutely for several minutes.

“Yeah, I guess Elsa Lanchester was pretty good in this,” Dan said, forcing idle small-talk with a woman who, well, it was questionable if she even understood him.

Something about what Dan said did pull her attention, and she turned her big, doe-like eyes to look right at him. She grunted softly.

“What? You like her? I guess she is kinda pretty, in a sorta’ grotesque way. But Elsa’s really good as Shelley, too.” Dan smirked. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed old monster movies.

“Elsa…” the creature grinned, tapping her chest.

Dan gave her an askew grin. “You’re Elsa? Not Gloria, Elsa.”

She nodded vigorously, her broad smile stretching out her cheeks.

“Elsa,” Dan mused to himself. “Yeah, that suits you.”