Disclaimer – All characters are copyright Mike Mignola and Dark Horse Entertainment.

Notes – This is based off the BPRD comic series. If you've only seen the movie, then you will probably be lost. It takes place during the beginning of Hollow Earth.

Thanks to all who reviewed my last story.

Summary – As Abe Sapien prepares to depart the BPRD, he reflects on his life there.

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Part One

Maybe Hellboy was right – maybe he did have too many books.

Abe never thought about it before. Every time he finished one, he just stacked it on a shelf and went on the next purchased novel. He must have had a hundred by now, a collection that started growing back in the 80s. Damn and he complained about his friend's overly stuffed shrine of VHS recordings that always fell down from weight collapse. It was a miracle the shelves in his room had not given way. It was almost funny if he sat there and thought about it.

He wasn't, however. He concentrated on retrieving the books by the handful and stacking them neatly into the cardboard boxes that had laid siege to his room. Particular as always, Abe Sapien was careful to keep them in the order of genre and author. Wherever he ended up, he wanted to open the boxes to a highly cared for assortment.

Wherever he ended up.

Ultimately, the other agents were right. He was a fish man. Where was he going to go? It was not as though he could walk down to the nearest employment agency and apply to be a desk worker. Researching and defending the populace against paranormal activity was the only job he knew, the only life he had known. It was as second nature to him as it had been to Hellboy. Leaving it wasn't going to be easy, but what other choice did he really have? The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense had let him down. It was supposed to be his safe haven, the place where he could feel secure despite of his appearance and unique abilities. Instead, now it seemed like a masquerade of frauds and people just waiting to take offense on anything that wasn't like them.

The injustice against Roger was the last straw on a stumbling camel. The Homunculus proved to be good at heart, and saved Liz's life as quickly as he had stolen it. He was not evil, but the Bureau hadn't trusted Hellboy's judgment. Instead, they prepared for the worst and put a bomb inside of Roger. A bomb. If a gentle soul like Roger wasn't immune from accusations and irrational defense, how could any of them be? What was stopping the higher ups from putting a bomb inside of them all?

Abe Sapien didn't consider himself a bitter person, but maybe he truly was.

All he needed to consider at that moment was packing up and leaving the Bureau. He was going to take Roger with him, too. The Homunculus lost guidance when Hellboy left, and Abe didn't trust leaving Roger behind with the same people who contemplated killing him. Where they would go, he did not know and nor did he care now.

He just needed to get out of that building, out of that corporation. It was nothing to him anymore. It was not his home anymore.

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March 1979

All his mind could gather from the events surrounding him was fright. It was a primitive instinct, implanted into living creatures for their own protection. Fright taught them to push away. Flight or fight. It's a very simple biological procedure. Fight, however, seemed out of the option. At that moment, even flight seemed impossible. That tiny feeling of claustrophobia filled the back of his brain as the creature stopped shoving about his surroundings. How confined he felt, trapped. Having no recollection as to where he was or how he placed himself into the situation bothered his raging mind. All that primitive instinct could tell him was to flee. Flee. Flee.

Those first images flew through his brain, bright lights and sparks. Loud noises boomed through whatever incased him and hurt his ears. Something thick surrounded him in all corners, and enclosed the wet substance inside. The liquid felt normal, felt real to him. It passed through his respiratory system so naturally that he did not even notice when he breathed. This was customary.

It seemed to be the only thing that was.

What were the blinks and beeps everywhere around him? Those husks of objects that were out of place? What was this? Where was it? How was it? The creature's brain comprehended quickly, but not quick enough. Everything was familiar in a deep, rooted sense, but at the same time alien and unusual.

He backed away as the looming cast silhouette grew near. It was speaking again, speaking a form of jumbled words that he somehow understood. Distorted by the ringing of tide, the words meant nothing to him emotionally. Flight or fight. That's all his body could respond to. Flight or fight.

Fright was the only option.

"…absolutely incredible, Professor Bruttenholm. Two fully developed respiratory systems. I wanted to be absolutely certain, and these x-rays prove it."

A second mass took shape and he shifted uncomfortably away, beginning to feel surrounded.

"He can breathe air. More amphibious than fish, I would gather."

This voice was different, yet he recognized it from before. He recognized them both, which meant a third had to be nearby. There it was, a third being between the first two. His voice was rough, and the creature did not like it at all.

"You can also see that it has a vocal cord."

"A completely formed vocal cord, Doctor Roddel? You mean he can speak?" The voice was full of awe and wonder, yet the creature could not help but feel confused when the being looked upon him with admiration.

The third tone's face was no more comforting, despite his casts of amazement. "I truly think it could, at point."

The first spoke again, placing something thick and heavy down beside him. The creature could recognize him by face now, despite any attempts to crawl away from the entire scene. Nothing made sense. "We're trying to see if he's still capable of speech. However, without the knowledge of his grasp of language, or human language at that, it's difficult to determine if he can even understand what we're saying."

They were talking about him, and he had gathered that somehow. He understood them, but he didn't know how.

"God, could you image if this thing could speak?" The cold one approached the creature's space, and he instinctively drew back. Eyes widened in confusion and desperation, flight or fight were options lost. Nothing could be done to stop the man from standing in front of the set, eyes cast commendably upon the spectacle before him. "Evolution at its finest? The first test tube creation, man's first attempt at genetic engineering? Imagine what we could learn from this. This just puts all of our knowledge of human superiority into question."

Human superiority? Human. Human. The word was strong in his mind, and was welcomed into his brain as something he could grasp. These were humans, he was human. Was he human? Was he human, or was he the evolution, the creation? All somehow made sense, but at the same time did not. Fright infused again, and the creature shook his head in what bred as frustration. Everything inside of his mind was reawakening, but so much was lost.

Time was lost.

Once the creature reopened his eyes, another one of the men was climbing above his shelter, hands full. Pulling himself down, he reacted strongly as light appeared at the top of his abode. It took a moment, but he knew: that was the exit. However, the light disappeared too fast as several things plopped into his environment. The creature studied them, retracting once before pulling one of the objects closer to be examined. It was heavy with death, but its eyes stared blankly forward. He remembered those eyes from somewhere.

"We're trying to see what he'll eat, Professor Bruttenholm," said the first voice as he climbed down the side of the creature's habitat.

The second man, this Professor Bruttenholm, did nothing more than place his hand under his chin. "I'm curious, Doctor Cobb; why did you choose fish?"

It was the third tone that responded. "We were thinking along the lines of evolution, Professor. In aquatic environments, the larger the creature is on the food chain, the more it can devoir."

"Big fish eats little fish." The first voice sounded simplified.

The creature's mind processed the word. Eat. Eat. Connection.

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The cardboard box shut tightly and taped in place. Abe Sapien roughly grabbed hold of a permanent marker, and scribbled "Science Fiction" across the side. The taste returned to his mouth. He felt like gagging, recalling how raw fish had tasted. His first meal – the first food he could remember eating. The scientists had not bothered to prepare the dish, not expecting the creature in the tank to have particular tastes.

"Nothing more than a goldfish."

Abe reached up to retrieve another book.

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May 1979

He knew their names.

Finally, faces had titles connected to them. Each personality was different, and the people before him were not the same. He recognized them, the many. Three were more important than others were. Professor Bruttenholm. Doctor Cobb. Doctor Roddel. They were the most familiar now, and the creature reached the point where he could easily distinguish them as they walked through the thick doors. However, nothing they did made sense. All he could understand was that he didn't like what was happening around him, what was happening to him.

All he could understand was that he was scared.

Nothing seemed right about this. Wires, syringes, sparks. He familiarized with these things, but they frightened him. Nothing was comforting, nothing seemed to console the creature. Occasionally the light from above would open. It was the only welcoming feature of his surroundings, but when the being tried to reach the light, he would find himself met with either food or some form of device. He had lost count of how many times he felt his skin pricked. All he could remember was Doctors Cobb and Roddel confirming he was "cold-blooded." The word felt right, and he certainly felt cold then and there.

"The last results showed more defenses against colder temperatures than warmer. Mark the temperature at thirty-six degrees, Doctor Cobb." He recognized Doctor Roddel, the aging man connected to the unsettling though familiar voice. "It's specialized to survive in climates most humans cannot withstand."

"Doctor Roddel." Professor Bruttenholm. His voice was aging, but not unpleasant. "How is his immunity system withholding?"

"Despite our lack of real knowledge on its anatomy and structure, it seems to be healthy." The man began scribbling madly on the clipboard he always seemed to carry with him. The creature never understood what he was writing. The symbols seemed right, as though he understood what it meant. At the same time, it meant nothing.

He was confused, and the confusion frightened him.

Doctor Cobb spoke next. Of the two doctors, the creature preferred the sound of the younger assistant. "He's eating, and that's helping him. We still worried that any direct contact with people could transfer human diseases."

"We don't want to chance that, yet, Professor." Doctor Roddel looked up from his board and stepped closer to the tank. The creature stared back instinctively, his eyes curving in confusion. "We don't want it to die on us. Until we understand just how strong the immunity system is, I'd advise leaving it inside. If that piece of paper is right, and it really is from 1865, then it's not tasted air in over one hundred years. Who knows how it would react to today's air qualities."

"It's safer for him, really." Doctor Cobb gave a nod to Professor Bruttenholm as Doctor Roddel returned to his board.

The creature's mind calculated the word "safe", trying to remember its meaning. This was safe. The murky, cold water. He was cold, but the word and concept did not bother him as much as the doctors thought it should. What bothered him more was the lack of space. He ached from no room. Some kind of primal instinct was urging to swim around, but the tube was too small. His arms wanted to stretch, but instead they moved around the seaweed that was tangled wires and fish bones. Outside of the glass were curious eyes and roaring mechanisms. Words of many were spoken, but nothing soothing said. Loud noises, wide gasps, humming cords. Sometimes they all hurt.

This was safe. To be scared was to be safe.

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