"Uncharted Territory"
Chapter 2: An Unlikely Partnership

"Marie Sklodowska Curie, the only person to ever be awarded two separate Nobel Prizes in two different scientific fields, was born on November 7th, 1867, in Warsaw and moved to Paris at the age of twenty-four...

"Gods, my paper sounds like something a ten-year-old would write," I shook my head, grinning as I glanced over the opening to one of my essays. "Marie and Pierre Curie would be furious."

"Imogen, it sounds fine!" I made Megan giggle.

Tuesday afternoon found Megan and me studying in the library down in Pickman Hall, cramming for our first anatomy test of the quarter, as well as working on one of our essays. Megan had been concerned for her boyfriend's missing cat, said even the cat was creeped out by West. Now that the cat was missing it made Megan even more nervous. I told her it was probably nothing, but still, that tingling, precognitive feeling in my gut told me otherwise. I told her I would look into it. Plus, it would give me an excuse to sneak a peek at this lab West was slaving away over, because honestly, when I wanted to study while Megan was taking some time off from studying to be with Dan, I needed someone to bounce ideas off of.

I made my way over to Dan and West's place; Dan and Megan were at her dorm and Dan had said West was dissecting his cadaver's liver at the morgue. They gave me the key and I slipped in, leaving my books in the front room, along with my Miskatonic University sweatshirt. It was unnervingly quiet, to the point where my ears would play tricks on me. There was a sound from the second door on the left as I made my way down the hall. Slowly pushing the door open, I realized I'd discovered the basement. Wooden steps lead down to a concrete floor; West must have left the lamps on, for the floor was flooded in light. It was when I was about halfway down the steps, pretty much beyond the point of being able to turn back unscathed, that I realized my ears weren't deceiving me.

West was working at the desk, his back to me, and for a moment he moved ever so slightly to reveal the dish on the desk as the container for Dan's missing cat, who was very much dead. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and my heart leapt to my throat. West made his way over to the fridge to pull from its shelves bottles of a glowing yellow liquid that reminded me of hi-lighter fluid. Filling a syringe, he plunged the needle into the back of Rufus' mangled neck, injecting the "hi-lighter fluid" into the cat's spine. It took about twenty seconds or so, but finally, to my absolute astonishment, Rufus began to move, growl and claw at West's hands as they furiously scribbled over his notepad. "Twenty-one seconds to reanimation..." The sound of the cat's unnatural howling and jerky movements made my stomach churn, and I started seeing stars.

I must have made a sound then; something gave me away, for it was then that West jumped up and whirled around. I clutched at my stomach, feeling as if I would be sick.

"Dammit, Phillips! Do you not know how to knock?"

"Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what..." I gagged. "What have you done? West, what..." I began to shake. Here I was, a second year med student, and I was getting sick at the sight of this slight horror. My head spun. He was pissed, I could look at his face and tell that much, but he grabbed ahold of me as I started to go to my knees.

"You're going into shock," he sighed, guiding me up the stairs and away from the carnage. I gripped his hand tightly, sinking into the sofa, and he wrapped me in a blanket. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle. "For such a hardened medical student, your stomach seems to have its limits."

"S-so it w-would se-em," I stammered, glancing at him.

"Do you want any water?"

I nodded, and he went for the kitchen.

"The c-cat?"

"I wouldn't worry about him," West's voice drifted out to meet my ears. "His spine is snapped in two different places. He will not be going anywhere."

Oh, for the love of God. And that's when I blacked out.

"Phillips. Phillips!" West's voice and aggravated sigh were the first things I recognized as I came to. I was as he'd left me on the sofa, only this time, he was crouched in front of me, his hands on my knees.

"You left me there for a moment, Phillips," he cracked the slightest of darkly bemused smiles as my eyes fluttered open. I could feel a cool hand brush across my forehead as my tired eyes registered the face in front of me: the dark, messy hair; the dark and mostly unnerving eyes; the glasses; the crooked smile. "Here," he handed me the water, having picked it up from where he'd left it on the floor when he'd realized I'd lost my marbles. I gulped it down greedily, muttering a "thanks" as I handed him the empty glass.

"How long was I out?"

"Oh, only a few minutes, I'd say. Four, at the most."

"Mmm..."

"How do you feel?"

I shrugged, reaching up to push light brown curls from my face, realizing that's what he must have been doing. "Alright, I suppose." The spots on my legs where his hands met my knees tingled.

West nodded, and his face reverted to stoic crypticism. "You should have knocked, you know."

"I needed to know, West."

"Know...?" His confusion was only partially feigned. There was a piece of him that knew what I was talking about.

"What exactly did this Grueber teach you? And what was that argument with Dr. Hill about, as well as why you two seem to hate each other so much?" West stared at me. His eyes were windows; I could look in and see the wheels turn as he processed all of it.

"And mostly..." I took in a shaky breath. "What is that yellow crap you keep in your lab? The stuff you used on Rufus."

He sighed, his eyes narrowing. "I almost suspected this would happen. You were always one of the more curious and attentive students in the class. I believe the phrase... 'gung-ho' could be applied here."

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. It was funny hearing him use such modern terminology; I was so accustomed to the fact he wasn't quite from this time period, but one from the past. "'Gung-ho,' huh?"

We smiled awkwardly at each other. And for a moment, we sat in silence. It was now my turn to study his face. He was so hard to read.

"What are you thinking, West?"

He gathered his thoughts. "I am debating upon whether or not you are to be trusted."

Realizing I had the strength to do so, I sat up, thereby leaning in towards him. His eyes affixed more intently upon mine and he looked up at me. I looked into his eyes as I placed my hands on his, and with two words I succumbed to the madness, the uninvited that sat gazing up into my eyes.

"Show me."

FIN.