This story contains material that some may find controversial and/or disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.

"How are we feeling today, Goliat?" Dr. Levia asked, powering up his omni-tool and turning to his young subject as an aide escorted the boy into the office and helped him up onto the table. The boy said nothing, scowling at the floor and clinging to the stuffed varren in his arms.

"Come on, my boy. I just want to know how you're doing." He had to get an answer for the records.

Goliat squeezed the varren more tightly. "Everything hurts," he groaned in a ragged voice that belonged to an aching old man. Dr. Levia clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A year had passed since Lantus turned over GK-60 to him, and he'd only now been able to formulate a treatment that might be effective. Finding the krogan genetics he needed had taken five months; he'd almost canned the idea all together, but a contact had guided him to a suitable albeit unwilling krogan subject. Another six months had been spent trying to process the samples and get the genetics usable. Finally, though, he had succeeded. GK-60 would get the first of the genetic treatments today.

"I'll give you your pain medicine in a minute. Lie down. I need to gather some data."

The boy curled up on his side, holding tightly to the stuffed animal, and Levia began a scan. His eyes fell on the stuffed varren. At some point, one of the aides would have to get the ratty, dirty toy away from the child. He had spoken to his aides about this before, and they reported that the boy always was seen with the little animal tucked under his arm, and that attempts to get it away from him resulted in tantrums. No matter; there was always a way around fussy children. One just had to find it.

He completed the scan and checked the results. The boy's bones were thinner than ever; a discouraging but expected result. He fed the stats into the main computer, then picked up an empty syringe, carefully measuring out a dose of the painkiller/sedative combination he used on his subjects. They didn't know the difference, and the drugs kept them quiet while he worked. He crossed the room and took hold of the boy's wrist, injecting the dose with the speed and ease of long practice. GK-60 whimpered a little, and Dr. Levia watched attentively as the drugs took hold. The child nodded off to sleep, his death-grip on the toy loosening. Dr. Levia checked GK-60's vitals; stable and steady, then washed his hands, impatient to get on with the testing of his completed formula.

His hands still damp, he crossed to the cooling unit and pulled out a small sealed vial of pink liquid. He studied it for a long minute, his gaze lingering on the biohazard sticker that marked the glass. The original virus did infect bone tissue and was deadly, but he needed a virus that would directly target the boy's weakening bones. His modified version was supposed to be harmless, but one could never quite predict how someone's body would react. The injection could very well kill the boy, but that was a chance the doctor was willing to take. He had other potential candidates for the same trial if GK-60 died.

He pierced the protective film on the vial with a syringe and carefully drained it, then turned to his sleeping subject, the hypodermic in hand. The boy twitched as he approached, and he stroked the back of the subject's neck gently, smiling in self-satisfaction. GK-60 would sleep right through this, and it would be interesting to monitor the boy as the viral treatment worked its way through the child's body. He found a vein on the boy's arm and carefully gave his subject the shot. The child whined softly in protest, body tensing, mouth opening a little.

"Shh." He ran a hand over the back of GK-60's neck again. The boy would be the first step in marketing this treatment and could possibly make him famous. The Hierarchy would ask too many questions, but he knew other black-market dealers might take it if he coul prove it worked. Of course, providing the child survived…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVvv

"The doctor wants to see you…"

Goliat shivered in the air-conditioned dark of the supply closet and pressed himself against the wall as the words danced around his head. The last time the doctor had called him into the labs, he'd gotten sick. Very sick. What little he remembered from his stay in the hospital was fever and pain and an upset stomach so severe he couldn't eat at all. The doctor had put him on a drip to keep him from becoming dehydrated and malnourished, but he hated it so much he'd torn it out multiple times. The doctor had scolded him at first, then, when he hadn't listened, countered by giving him something that made him extremely sleepy. The rest of his stay in the hospital had slid by in a nightmarish, miserable haze of drugs and illness. Nearly a month had passed before he recovered.

Another shiver racked him. He didn't want that to happen again, and hopefully the doctor wouldn't find him and would forget about him. He squeezed his varren toy tighter and shrank from the strip of light at the door edges as someone passed by his hiding place. He held his breath a long moment. The door stayed closed. He glanced around, looking for a better place to hide, then sat down behind the cleaning bot.

"I'm scared," he murmured to his varren, hugging it to his face. "I wish you were real, so you could protect me. I don't want to see the doctor again."

The varren stared up at him with its glossy button eyes and big sewn-on toothy grin, its floppy front paws draped over his arm. He fingered the tear in the varren's left paw, frowning, then hugged the animal again.

"I wish I could fix you. Then we could both leave and go find Da."

Footsteps neared the closet again and he shrank down. This time, the door opened.

"Goliat?"

He didn't answer, but peered around the side of the robot to see who was out there. His favorite aide was standing in the doorway. He quickly hid again, hoping she didn't see him.

"Goliat, what are you doing in there? You're very late," she scolded, spotting him.

"Inala, I'll handle this," a deep voice said. Goliat went rigid. That was the doctor! He hunkered down, shivering.

"Hello there, Goliat." The doctor's tone was gentle and calm. "Yes, I see you. Why don't you come out?"

He shook his head frantically, not caring whether the doctor could see him or not.

"No? Why not?"

"I don't like it. I don't want to." He protested.

"No," the doctor murmured, "of course you don't. That's normal. But let me tell you a little secret."

Curious, he peered out from behind the cleaning bot. The doctor smiled at him.

"What happened last time was not normal. It won't be like that this time. I promise."

He stared up at Dr. Levia, but didn't move. "How come I got sick, then?"

" The shots I give you protect you from bad germs. But you haven't been getting yours because your daddy didn't take you to the doctor often enough. You caught something bad before I could properly protect you from it, and I got very lucky that you got better."

"It was my dad's fault?" Goliat wondered, his mind working furiously.

"Yes, it was. Without proper help from people like me, you could get very, very sick."

"I don't like getting shots."

"Then we won't do any this time. How about that?"

"You triple-promise?"

"I triple-promise, dear boy. Now come here."

Goliat reluctantly stood and came out from behind the robot, making his way to the doctor's side. Dr. Levia put an arm around his shoulder.

"Good boy."

Goliat looked up into the man's gray eyes and friendly smile. Dr. Levia's coat smelled…nice, something he hadn't noticed before. He pressed himself against the doctor's side, wanting contact with another turian.

"You needed a hug, didn't you?" The doctor murmured, stroking his back. Goliat nodded.

"If there's anything you need, let me know. I'm here for you," Dr. Levia told him.

Goliat said nothing.

"May I see your varren friend?"

He hesitated for a moment, then offered the stuffed animal, which the doctor took.

"Very cute, but he's a bit of a mess, isn't he?" Dr. Levia asked, fingering a stain on the animal's lower jaw. "Tell you what; why don't we give him a bath while I'm doing your check-up?"

"And you'll give him back afterwards?"

"Of course," the doctor purred. "And, if you're good during your check-ups, Inala can to teach you how to read. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

"I may have to start you on medicine in a few weeks, but I promise if you keep being good and take it, I'll give you more of my time. Would you like that?"

Goliat nodded.

"Then I'll leave this with Inala." He handed the toy to the lady. "And we'll get your check-up finished in no time, all right?"

"Okay."

The doctor smiled and began to guide him towards the labs. He glanced back at his varren.

"Don't worry; it will come back," Dr. Levia promised.

When he returned to his bedroom an hour later, he found his varren waiting for him on the pillow. The broken seam in the animal's paw had even been repaired. Relieved, he picked the animal up and cuddled it. The doctor was really nice after all….

A/N: Thank you to my beta-reader, Death's Tender Lover! She has put a lot of time and effort into reading and reviewing my chapters. I don't like to post without a second opinion, and it often takes her a few days to get to each new chapter. She has given me some good feedback to improve the story, though, and explaining sections to her has helped me reason out characters' actions and nuance my story.
If you're into Black Butler, I recommend her writings.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I have a lot already written, but I just need to string scenes together for a better flow.

SB