Five words. Five words, spoken at exactly the right moment, was all it took to turn Philip's world upside down… again. Although, after the xenoscience, the sheer expanse of this facility, and God knows what that corrupted file on "Other Research Sites" said… Honestly, Philip needed to stop being surprised by the scientific "impossibilities" achieved by the Archaic Caste and its Shelter Facility. Although, other research sites… Jesus... how many more of those could there be? Where were they? What were they researching. If the topics were even a quarter as dangerous as the Tuurngait, they needed to be shut down…

Regardless, between hallucinations of dogs, spiders, and Infected hostiles, cutting his vision in a potentially dangerous location, teleporting him, turning him around, and- oh. Let's not forget that bullshit with "Amabel," Clarence had been screwing with his mind for days on end and Philip was done with it. The virus was tap-dancing on his last nerve and he knew it. It was as if he wanted to see how far he could push Philip before the 30-year-old broke down screaming at nothing.

"God damn it, Clarence!" Philip hissed, trying to keep his voice down. They hadn't encountered any Infected in this area, but he certainly wasn't up for a surprise round of laps. He heard the virus cackle at his irritation, causing the physicist to see red and raise his voice.

"Dammit!" he shouted, turning towards the nearby cryo chamber. The occupant was unable to be seen clearly through the frosted glass, but Philip could at least discern that he looked relatively young. Perhaps near his own age. He felt a slight stirring at the concept of actually interacting with another human.

"Well, well, Monkey," Clarence noted, his tone amused, "You seem unusually interested in this… individual. Increased levels of dopamine, rising testosterone and oxytocin-"

That was all it took.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Philip screamed, finally reaching the end of his patience. He slammed his hand violently against the nearby wall.

It was like out of a movie. Such was Philip's luck that his hand fell down on a somewhat malfunctioning button. Likely the one to open the cryo chamber. The arcing blue electricity pulsed through his palm, coursing through his entire body. After the electrical pulse passed through his heart and followed the Vagus Nerves to his brain, the world swiftly went dark.

Blacking out was not something Clarence was used to. Even when the monkey slept, he was aware of their surroundings. Apparently, being electrocuted even affects an alien consciousness.

He was on the floor when he regained awareness. It was quiet and he had control, although he was still figuring out how to operate his dreadfully stiff limbs. Surely they couldn't have been out for that long! Regardless, he would normally assume that the monkey hadn't woken up yet. This felt… different, though. There were no memories for him to sift through. It was as if Philip was…

…no.

Not the monkey. Not his monkey! He couldn't be…

Finally regaining full mobility in his limbs, he rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing for air. His minor paralysis must have only lasted a brief time if he hadn't felt the need to breathe until just now. A minute or two at most. He felt hair fall away from his neck and frame the sides of his face.

…Wait…

Philip's hair was short and honey blonde. (He knew this from the sheer number of times Philip had stopped to check his appearance in the bathrooms' mirrors). The locks that currently fell just past the tops of his shoulders were silky, and a dark brown, almost black shade.

Then he saw Philip next to him. He was still, unmoving, and that sent an unparalleled rush of fear through Clarence. He scrambled to him, taking his former host into his still-ice-cold arms and shaking him desperately.

"Monkey! Wake up!" his tone quickly became pleading, "Please wake up…"

From the beginning, he couldn't wait for the monkey to get himself killed. To release them both. He never thought he'd see the day where he cried over the monkey, begging him to survive… yet here he is.

A voice at the back of his mind prodded at these memories, taunting him, 'This was what you wanted. Your own body. The monkey dead. You wanted this from the moment you infected him.'

Clarence bowed his head and whispered, tone filled with fury and guilt, "Not like this… never like this…" Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill as one last whispered plea fell from his lips…

"Please… I can't do this without you, Philip…"

Philip awoke with a sharp gasp, only vaguely aware that he was being held. While the stranger's arms were ice cold, his torso was warm and inviting. Philip couldn't help but nuzzle closer to the warmth, craving more of the human contact he'd been denied for what felt like years, but had, in fact, only been days.

"M-Monkey?" the person whispered, voice trembling in what sounded like fear. Philip froze as his mind processed just what the stranger had called him. 'Monkey'… only one… entity called him that. Come to think of it, the irritation that had invaded his mind had been surprisingly quiet since he woke up. What on Earth…? The stranger's ("Clarence" his mind attempted to supply) voice was shaking as he held Philip tighter still and whispered comfortingly to him, relieved and prayer-like.

"You're alive," Clarence continued on, "Alive, alive, alive. Thank God, you're okay… Oh, my monkey. My Philip."

Philip felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment at the possessive tone of the virus that had, until recently, taken up residence inside his head. The physicist's thoughts raced, questioning everything about this situation. Why was Clarence holding him? Why was Clarence human? Was the virus actually concerned about him? In short, what the fuck was going on?

He'd be lying if he said he didn't find the embrace comfortable. Still, he tried to slip out of it, only to be stopped by a low growl from Clarence, and a tightening of the arms around him. One of Clarence's hands slid up to tangle in Philip's hair, guiding him to look up and meet his eyes.

What Philip saw nearly made his jaw drop. The nearly black locks, partially occluding one mauve-colored iris, the empty cryo chamber nearby… Clarence must have been transferred into the body. Well, Philip's estimation was correct. He appeared about 30 years old. He had a five-o'clock shadow that, admittedly, suited him well. But nothing caught Philip's attention more completely than the active tear tracks on his cheeks.

Clarence was crying… and over him.