Dr. Iplier eyed his fellow doctor uncertainly. Schneeplestein had his nose buried in work and didn't seem to notice the other's stare. He knew Schneep was the last Septic in their plane. Jacques, the only other one remaining, had left with Silver a few days ago. The German barely spoke now; tried to keep busy to distract himself. He wouldn't even argue with the other doctor when they disagreed. He'd just curse and walk away—that wasn't like him. He was too stubborn for that.

"Edward." Schneep's voice was gruff with disuse, and made Dr. Iplier jump. "You are staring."

Iplier quickly turned away and continued rearranging vials and medications kept in the cupboards. "What's our schedule?" he asked after a moment. The list was on the wall next to Schneeplestein, but too far for Iplier to make out.

There was a pause as Schneep adjusted his glasses and leaned toward the paper. "Host will be in within half hour for bandage changes. Dark missed his appointment an hour ago."

"Figures," Iplier growled. "Is that all?"

"Unfortunately so."

A silence fell between them. Since the others had left, the doctors were left with very little to do. They used to be running around constantly; patching up one Ego after another, breaking up arguments, or being dragged off somewhere to watch a comrade do something stupid. Now the Host was their only regular, while Dark never attended his appointments to get the bullet wounds in his arm checked. Sure, they all knew it would take a lot more than a bullet to take out Dark, but the doctors just wanted to be safe.

"…You've been quiet, Henrik. That's not like you."

The Septic grunted. "Everything is fine, Gut!"

"Everything is not 'gut', Henrik! We have nothing to do anymore, and you still manage to work yourself to exhaustion!"

Schneep didn't respond; just hunched his shoulders and continued with whatever papers he was working on at Dr. Iplier's desk. Iplier just turned angrily back to his own task—purposefully being noisy about it.

The doctors had been 'coworkers' for a long time, now. They'd met shortly after Schneeplestein was created. Anti had introduced them, and they hit it off immediately. Iplier had acted like a mentor, in a way; aiding the Septic with knowledge he wasn't immediately given at his creation, especially in regarding the treatment of their less-human comrades. They were really the only ones to call each other by first names. Schneeplestein was always just 'Schneep', while Iplier was 'Doc' or 'Doctor' to the other Egos. To each other, they were Henrik and Edward. They were close.

Were being the keyword. With arguments becoming commonplace between them they'd grown tense with each other. Their fall down the stairs had almost completely cut the thinning strings of their friendship.

Both doctors looked up from their tense silent treatment of each other when the clinic door opened. Host was there, and Schneep took that as his excuse to leave; slipping past the blind Ego without a word. The papers he'd been going through were tucked under his arm as he headed to his room, grumbling under his breath the whole way. Upon entry, the papers were thrown carelessly onto his disorganized desk, and he flopped on his bed. Schneep did his best not to glance at the other bed across the room; neatly made with covers pulled taut and looking like Jackieboy had never lived there.

Schneep pulled off his glasses and cap, tossing them both on the bed next to him. He stared up at the ceiling and ran his fingers through faded green hair.

He'd never felt so alone.

If Jackieboy wasn't chattering his ear off, or Anti practically hanging off his arm, then Marvin was showing him magic tricks or Jameson doing his best to hold conversation with him. When he found time off, he would spoil Chase's kids, or shake his head as their father and Bing tried some stupid stunt and got themselves hurt. Sometimes he'd talk with the King, coddling the older Ego's 'most loyal' squirrel-subject, or stay with Oliver for hours on end leaning more sign language to make understanding Jameson easier. He and Dr. Iplier used to hold lighthearted conversation, flirt casually to make the other Egos uncomfortable so that they'd leave the doctors alone for a while; it was never anything serious, of course. He didn't know about Iplier, but Schneep was actually uninterested in another romantic relationship after his wife had left him, but there was no harm in teasing each other.

Now, much like Dark and Wilford, the doctors were at each others' throats—though they kept quieter about it than the oldest two.

If someone didn't know them and saw them together in the clinic, they'd never believe the doctors had been close friends for many years. They seemed far to bitter and tense with each other for that.

Was there any more use for him here, Schneep wondered dejectedly. Out of the remaining five, he was the only Septic left; the other four were Ipliers, and not exactly the most endearing ones at that. He just…couldn't see himself leaving this plane with that group. And he knew the four of them would leave together. Dr. Iplier would insist on going with the Host, as would Dark. Wilford, as much as they bickered, would be right at Dark's side. Schneep would be the odd Ego out. And chances were, he and Dr. Iplier would still fight after they'd left. It would be hard to repair their broken friendship now, and they'd only draw attention to the rest of their group.

So did that mean Schneep would have to leave on his own..? Like…Ed had?

The German Septic crossed his arms over his face, blocking out the light. He really should turn it off. He just didn't have the motivation to get up right then.

His cellphone ringing made him jump and jerk into a sitting position; he hadn't realized he'd been drifting off. He grumbled, but got up to get it off his desk. He read the name across the screen: Jackie. He shut his eyes and cursed. Schneeplestein really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now. Blue eyes stared at the screen long enough that it went to voicemail, then it was tossed onto the bed next to the cap and glasses.

It started ringing again. Still Jackie. Again, it went to voicemail. Once more, it rang immediately after the end of the last bout. This time Schneep sat on the edge of the bed and picked the device back up. His thumb hovered over the Answer. What did Jackie have to say to him? What could he? They'd left through Ego Central anyway; his group was in Brighton. Schneep would be forced to leave through Incorporated now that the Door was gone; into LA. Did Jackie just want to know how he was doing? If he'd left yet, or was close to fading? He had nothing to say to Jackie and, though Schneep had asked the superhero to keep in touch, the thought of answering hurt more than he thought it would. The doctor, with a pang in his chest and a shaky breath, hit Decline. That…hurt even more than the thought of answering, and he immediately regretted it, but didn't have the guts to call back; it seemed Jackie didn't either when it wouldn't ring again.

The phone wound up tossed to the side, and he buried his face in his hands; shoulders shaking with retched sobs.

Schneeplestein didn't know how long he stayed like that. Didn't know what finally brought him to his feet and to the bathroom connecting his room to what used to be the Googles'; now just a spare. He'd washed his face, combed trembling fingers through his hair. His eyes met the ones in the mirror; red, bloodshot. Hair disheveled. Coat wrinkled, tears staining its sleeves. Was that really him? He didn't recognize himself.

If not for his garb, he was almost convinced he was looking at Chase during the custody battle with Stacy. That was a time not even Bing could cheer Chase up. Schneep squared his shoulders at the thought. It had turned out; Chase had won the battle and got to keep Kyler and Sophie. It would turn out for the doctor, too. He'd get through this. Maybe…well, maybe he'd even find some of the other Septics. Maybe he would leave on his own, but there was a chance he wouldn't remain alone, right?

He should have accepted Jackie or Anti's invitations.

Schneep waited until the redness had faded from his eyes before leaving his room and heading to the dining room. He could hear Wilford in the kitchen, and couldn't help the distasteful curl of his lip; the old Ego just couldn't help but make everything he cooked way too sweet. He seated himself at the table without making eye-contact with Dr. Iplier; the other doctor did the same. Dark was seated at the head of the table, and it seemed the Host was late. He only showed up as the food was being served.

No one was in the mood to eat. Even Wilford just sort of leaned on the table, playing with one of his knives. Dark and Host had pushed their plates forward, arms rested on the table; Dark with fingers knit together, and Host with arms crossed. The doctors poked at their pancakes with disinterest. No one spoke.

Schneep was the first to excuse himself, dumping his soggy food in the trash and placing the dishes in the sink. It was Will and Dr. Iplier's turn for cleanup, so the Septic went back toward the long hall housing their rooms. He combed the tangles out of his hair with his fingers, pacing, muttering to himself. He needed to leave, he thought as he brought his hands up to cover his face, seeing right through them. He needed to leave…

Schneep cut through the office, toward the back door. Dark nearly running into him at a corner startled the doctor. The other three weren't far behind; likely all headed to their rooms. Either Schneep had been pacing longer than he thought, or Wilford and Iplier had decided to put off cleaning the kitchen for the night. Either way, bad timing.

"Dr. Schneeplestein." Dark's voice was calm, but it sent the doctor's hair standing on end. Fortunately, he'd grown more used to the demonic Ego. Still uncomfortable around him, but the color-named Googles honestly made him more uneasy than Dark these days. Then again, Dark seemed tired, subdued, anymore; the Googles were…well, they were the Googles.

The Septic's eyes drifted between the four Ipliers. Dark's weakened aura drifted lazily near his feet; his spine, though rigid, no longer held him in a proud stance and looked forced. The manic joy had long since faded from Wilford's eyes. The Host looked tired, and his fingertips brushed the wall so he could find his way since his Visions had failed on him. Dr. Iplier wouldn't meet his gaze. They all needed out of there, and soon. The transparency was most evident in Iplier: Eyes forced to strain just to make out his face. The Host followed him closely, then Dark. Wilford was the lucky one; only having it in his hands.

"I am leaving," the Septic said simply.

Dr. Iplier snorted. "With nothing but the clothes on your back? Stupid."

Schneep pursed his lips like he'd tasted something sour. Bitterly, he said, "I have what I need. I have wallet. I have scalpel. I have cellphone and magic card from Marvin. I need no more."

The other doctor just scoffed.

"C'mon, Schneeple," Wilford drawled, "y'can't go out on your own!" He didn't sound concerned; just curious, if anything. Did he want to know what was out there?

"I am going."

Now, was the Host's turn: "Dr. Schneeplestein—"

"Out there, we have chance," the Septic snapped, immediately shutting the other up. He was glaring now, hands curled into fists. "In here," he said through gritted teeth, "we can only fade from memory." Like Mark Bop, and Chef Iplier, and Artiplier, and so many other small Egos who never got a chance like the rest of them. Never made it big. Who never got the attention they'd needed, deserved, to survive.

He shoved past them, not caring how Dark's aura bit at his hands, or Wilford's make his stomach drop like he'd just eaten something far too sweet while already ill. The Host stepped aside to let Schneep pass, while Dr. Iplier's shoulder hit the wall roughly when he refused to budge.

It wasn't that Schneep was cruel or hateful or violent (though he did have a tendency to throw surgical tools); he just needed out, and they wouldn't move. His walk turned into a jog, then a sprint, for the back door. As soon as he had it open, he stumbled out over the threshold without looking back.

He needed out.

Once he was through, his coat hugged his shoulders uncomfortably tight; to the point it hurt to move his arms. It was difficult for him to get it off. He was definitely broad-shouldered along with whatever other changes had been made to his appearance; more thickset? Felt that way at least. Luckily his scrubs were loose enough that they still fit comfortably—though his ankles were showing, so he'd need to look into getting a longer pair of pants, and a bigger pair of sneakers since his feet felt squished.

"Was zur Hölle?" he muttered as he looked his coat over. It seemed so small in his hands!

Shaking his head, he threw it over his shoulder and took a look around. Egos, Inc.'s bridge was just some…plain looking office building. Schneep saw the parking lot, full of vehicles; people going in and out the front door—at least, he assumed that; he couldn't see the front of the building just looking around the back corner. Did any of them even know? Probably not.

The doctor pulled out his phone to bring up a GPS. In doing so, he saw he had unread texts: Three from Jackie, and one each from Marvin, Seán, and Anti.

Jackie(1): You alright man?
Jackie(2): Something wrong? Pick up please!
Jackie(3): Schneeps?! HELLO?
Marv: we're gettin worried plz answer!
Seán: Henrik? WTF goin on dude? Where are you?
Anti: Marv texted- Wtfucks goin on Schneep?!

He sent a single text Jackie's way; hoping to calm the superhero down (and hoped Jackie would calm the others): I'm fine, out! Sorry for worry!

Jackieboy sent a reply before the doctor could bring the GPS up.

Jackie: Scared the shit outta me! Dont do that to us!

Sorry.

Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut to collect himself, taking in a shaky breath, Schneep closed his messages, muted them, and brought up the GPS. He really wasn't in the mood to talk, and needed to focus on finding a place to stay for the night. Not on killing his phone with texts. Wait…killing his phone?

"Fuck… I forgot charger."