Hiya folks! Here's a fic that I've had on my computer for over a month (yes, before Psychonauts 2 came out-IT IS CANON COMPLIANT DO NOT WORRY. ...Well mostly, unless you count some old character descriptions that I'm not entirely sure are canon anymore.)
First off, while this fic is a companion piece to For Want of an Elevator, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE READ THAT TO FOLLOW THIS. Doing so will give you an idea of what happened on Loboto's side of things around the middle of this fic, but both fics can be read independently.
Second... I just... really wanted to explore Sheegor and Loboto's relationship. When we see it in the games, it's shown for laughs. But when you're writing from Sheegor's perspective and there's no goofy music or humorous animations... Loboto's antics are a lot less funny.
On top of that... yes I did find out (after I was well into this fic) that there was some obscure canon source that stated that Sheegor was only working for Loboto for the sake of Mr. Pokeylope, but I'd like to think there may be more to it than that. Relationships are complicated, after all.
Thanks to Jaywings and Pinky G Rocket for beta-reading!
Hope you enjoy!
She saw it too late.
Sheegor's mind had been on the general's orders: he needed seven bags' worth of the sneezing powder. Right now, they only had two filled. Piles of the powder's components sat before her, and she frantically mixed them together, measuring as needed, while the doctor stood in the opposite side of the lab, crushing the ingredients with the mortar and pestle, using enough force to jostle the work bench. Meanwhile, Mr. Pokeylope sat within the far-too-small cage that the doctor had made for him, watching the proceedings from afar.
The doctor had insisted he would be "safe" in there. While it made Sheegor uneasy, it was better than his usual threats of yanking the turtle out of his shell, cracking his shell with dental equipment, or straight-up hurling him out the window. It was his leverage to keep her from disobeying his orders, or outright leaving. Not that she would just take off with Mr. Pokeylope anyway. The thought of leaving the remaining asylum residents here with their dwindling food supply made her heart wrench, and it wasn't like she could just leave him here, either, with what he planned to do with those brains.
She shook herself, refocusing on her work. It was a lot to do, but at least the doctor was having fun, and was in good spirits. It was nice to see him happy, at least, and the work was a lot, but it wasn't too bad. If she didn't think too much about what this was for, it was honestly kind of nice—
Look out, honey, Mr. Pokeylope thought to her.
And she did, taking a few seconds too long to process what was wrong. The doctor had been working with such enthusiasm that he had wound up nudging the mortar along the workbench. He had moved with it, and was now closer to a series of shelves on the wall. She glanced up at the shelves, and yelped, noticing just what was sitting on the edge of one of them.
"DOCTOR!"
Too late, the doctor elbowed the shelves next to him, and the bag of sneezing powder dropped directly on his head. With a startled yell, he flailed his arms and scrubbed frantically at his face, turning away from the spilled powder.
"NO!" she cried. She hurried toward the doctor, but a frantic thought from her friend held her back:
Keep back, or you'll lose your head too…
The doctor's optics spun and flickered as he gasped, grabbing at his nose in a futile attempt to stop what was about to happen.
Sheegor covered her face—she'd already seen it back when they tested the powder on poor Fred a few weeks ago. "I-I can't watch…!"
With an explosive sneeze, the doctor crashed backwards into his workbench.
Sheegor waited, but when no quiet mumbling about TV and hackeysacks followed, she uncovered her face. The doctor was sitting with his back to his workbench, looking dazed, but not brainless. Additionally, there was no brain lying anywhere nearby.
"…What."
"Doctor Loboto…? Are you okay?"
Rather than answering her, the doctor gave a strained smile, scrambling back up to his feet and looking at the powder spilled over the workbench. "No, no, that can't be—"
"What are you—AH! NO!"
He took a fistful of the powder that had spilled, shoving it against his face. Once again his optics flickered, and he let out another sneeze that knocked him backwards, but did not cause his brain to forcefully eject through his nose.
"It's… it's not working?" she suggested, only to shriek when the doctor leapt to his feet again and spun around. "D-doctor?!
"Let's test it!" he snarled as he swiped another fistful of the powder and stormed up to her.
Shrieking, Sheegor scrambled back as the doctor advanced, but her back touched Mr. Pokeylope's cage—he had her cornered. She covered her face as he hurled the powder at her, but it was too late.
No, no, no no no…! she thought frantically as the urge to sneeze overwhelmed her. I don't want to lose my brain, no—! She covered her face in hopes of at least catching her brain. Half a second later, she let out a sneeze that knocked her off her feet, banging her back into the cage behind her. The pain that jolted her spine rendered her unable to move for the moment, and she could only watch as the doctor towered over her, his ever-present smile a bit too wide.
He laughed.
It was not a happy laugh, but a hideous, angry cackle that sent shivers down Sheegor's aching spine. She managed to cover her face again, but he did nothing to her. Instead she heard that ugly sound move away from her… only to be joined by bangs and crashes. Even over the cacophony she could hear his laughter, until a loud CRACK—the sound of the mortar hitting the floor—silenced him.
Finally Sheegor uncovered her face, her vision blurred as she looked up. The doctor had turned away from his now-mess of a workbench, his eyes gleaming down at her.
"We've got more work to do, Sheegor. …Are you listening to me? SHEEGOR!"
Sheegor jolted out of the memory, looking up to find the doctor staring down at her from the doorway to the asylum's food storage. She'd found herself resting against one of the shelves in one of the few dry spots in the room; it had flooded some time ago, ruining much of the food that had been stored there.
"S-sorry, Doctor Loboto," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What were you—"
"Have you found that pepper grinder?" the doctor asked, drumming his fingers against the doorway.
Glancing over at the object she'd finally uncovered after an hour of searching that morning, Sheegor sighed. "I did, but…" She held it out to him: the wood of the old pepper grinder was waterlogged, its metal components hopelessly rusted.
He snatched it away from her and glanced it over, then chucked it aside with a snarl. Sheegor flinched, waiting for a shout, or worse—laughter.
But the doctor was quiet. "More work to do," he muttered, and left.
Sheegor stared, her heart pounding in her chest. After casting one last glance at the sad state of the food storage, she hurried up the stairs after him. It was hard to catch up with his pace. Normally he took his time, his steps having a giddy bounce to them, but now his movements were sharp and hurried… and they had been since yesterday, she recalled.
"D-Doctor Loboto…?" she called. He spun to face her, optics gleaming in the dark stairwell. She balked, but went on: "Is… something going on?"
His optics flicked to the side for a moment. "You'll need to carry on with the experiments on your own today," he said, and hesitated. "…He will be picking me up shortly."
Sheegor's brows rose. The doctor worked with multiple clients, and while she didn't know that one's name, she knew what it meant. "Oh. Um… g-good luck."
The doctor's eyes snapped back over to her. "I don't need luck, I need something to work!"
Though she stepped back, she didn't miss the shudder in his breathing, or how tensely he held himself. He was scared. Sheegor's skin crawled, and she swallowed.
"I-I'll do what I can."
"Good." Finally, he turned away, continuing to head toward the elevator. "I'll be gone until… nightfall, I think. We'll have a lot to discuss."
That made her pause. Until tonight? He'd be gone the entire day? She stole a glance back toward the storage. They would need more food soon, and she should ask him if she could go out for a supply run… but… he didn't need to know she was doing that.
Fear momentarily forgotten, Sheegor nodded. "All right!" she called after him. "I'll work really, really hard while you're gone!"
The doctor grunted, and they continued in silence through the asylum. Finally he stepped into the lower elevator and headed down.
Once she was sure he couldn't hear her, Sheegor giggled, scurrying up to the top floor of the tower, evading the rats along the way. Once she reached the lab, she rushed up to the cage. "Mr. Pokeylope!" she cried. "The doctor's gonna be gone all day!"
"That's fine news, baby," the turtle said as he crawled closer to her. "Gonna play hooky today?"
"Well, no, not exactly…" She reached into the cage, gently lifting Mr. Pokeylope out. "I was thinking we could go shopping!"
"Whatever you wanna do is fine by me, baby."
Even so, she felt guilty as she glanced back at the cage. Mr. Pokeylope was supposed to stay there—or at least, the doctor said he was. And what if the doctor got back before she did? "Actually, um… maybe this isn't such a good idea—"
"Naw, it's fine. We'll be back before he even realizes we've been gone."
"Well… okay, if you think so." The prospect of just spending the day away from the asylum with her friend felt too nice to abandon. "Sooo… let's go shopping?"
"Sounds good."
Sheegor had gone on supply runs for the asylum many times, taking a hidden canoe out to the mainland to a spot where she had hidden a wagon. It was a fair trek out to the nearest town, and she often got a lot of stares, but this time Mr. Pokeylope was there! Their silent conversations made the time fly by, and made it easier for her to ignore any strange looks or unkind comments. Once at the store, she managed to stock up on various dried and canned foods that would last at the asylum for some while. Sure it wasn't the most exciting food, but it was cheap, and it meant she wouldn't have to make another trip like this too soon.
At one point Mr. Pokeylope gently tugged on her sleeve, pointedly eyeing a box of chocolate cupcakes. Those wouldn't last long, not at all! But… well… it wouldn't hurt. She couldn't really resist the pleading look in Mr. Pokeylope's eyes, anyway.
As they shopped, she remembered something from earlier that day, and grabbed a pepper grinder to put in the cart. Usually she stuck with food, soap, and other necessities, but… maybe if she pretended she'd found it in storage, the doctor would count it as her "working" on something.
Once the food was paid for, she loaded it into the wagon (with Mr. Pokeylope on top) and began pulling it back. Though it wasn't a short journey, she found her steps light on the frosty ground.
"I think we got a good haul! This ought to last a month or so." She grinned back at her friend… only to spot him biting at the box of cupcakes. "Oh no you don't!" she teased, pulling the box away and setting it on the other side of the wagon. "No dessert until after supper."
Mr. Pokeylope pouted for a second, but only a second. "I guess that's all right," he relented, then glanced back down at all the bags from their haul. "Who paid for this?"
"Oh… um…" Sheegor turned away, resuming tugging the wagon. "It came out of my pay."
"Yours?"
"Well yes… What else would I use it for?"
"…Hmmm."
"'Hmm' what?" Sheegor asked. Before she could look back at him, her wagon hit a nasty bump, and she stopped to check her surroundings—she had stepped off her usual path. But more than that, she noticed her surroundings were a bit redder than they had been before—the sun was setting. "Oh no! It's getting late—the doctor will be back soon!"
"It's all right, honey. We can make it back before he does."
"I hope so!" Biting her lip, she ran the rest of the way back to the canoe, which she wasn't too far from at this point, thankfully. She set Mr. Pokeylope on one of the seats, loaded up the free space with the supplies, and hid away the wagon once more before hopping into the canoe. It was a lot of work to get back to the island, but they managed.
Once they were ashore, she sneaked around to make sure the doctor wasn't nearby. If so, she'd have to take the supplies up later. But the shore was deserted; any footprints the doctor had left were ones leading toward the water, not back to the tower. Relieved, Sheegor returned to her canoe, and began the painstaking process of hauling the supplies up to the tower, with Mr. Pokeylope staked near the shore as a lookout.
It felt like an age before they finished, but finally both Sheegor and Mr. Pokeylope found themselves in the asylum's kitchen, putting away the food and organizing a pile to take down to the other residents later. Sheegor did most of the work, though Mr. Pokeylope helped when he could, tugging the smaller cans out of the bags and setting them in neat stacks for Sheegor to put away.
At one point Sheegor dropped a can, which hit the floor with a noisy clatter. She found herself tensing, and her eyes widened. She swore she could hear the doctor shouting her name in anger. "D… did you hear that, Mr. Pokeylope?"
"Hear what?"
"N… nevermind."
She picked the can off the floor, and didn't find herself imagining the doctor's voice again as she finished putting away the last of the food. Slumping against the counter, she touched her forehead against Mr. Pokeylope's shell. "Hoo… it's been a long day."
"But a good one." The turtle beamed up at her, then looked at something off to the side. "Let's celebrate with some dinner… and dessert."
She followed his gaze to find the box of chocolate cupcakes that she was certain she had put away. But she smiled, patting the turtle's shell. "Okay, okay!" she said, giggling as she grabbed a few things they could eat for dinner. As she prepared it, however, she couldn't help glancing out the window—the moon shone through it. "Do you think he's back yet…?"
"We'd hear 'im if he was."
"I guess so…"
After they ate their quick supper (and after Mr. Pokeylope chomped down a cupcake), Sheegor headed up to the top floor of the asylum, where she peered down at the ground. It was hard to see from so high up, but surely she would see a boat approaching. (Though was it a boat? She wasn't sure how this particular client traveled. She usually saw the general using his psychic powers to row a canoe out to the island, and that one client would have Loboto leave to meet him, but the other one… she never saw him.)
"He's not usually this late," she murmured, patting Mr. Pokeylope's shell. "Do you think he's okay?"
"Maybe," he said, sounding more like he was answering whether or not he thought it would rain tomorrow, rather than if he thought someone was hurt or not.
Sighing, she scooted away from the edge. She found herself yawning—it was terribly late, but she knew the doctor wouldn't be happy if she wasn't there to call the elevator down for him. Maybe she could just send it down anyway, but she was too tired to bother. At some point she picked up Mr. Pokeylope and headed into the room above the lab—it was a bit cozier than the lab itself. There she took a seat, holding Mr. Pokeylope in her lap as she waited to hear the doctor. But it still felt strange that she hadn't heard from him yet.
"…What if something happened to him?" she wondered aloud.
Mr. Pokeylope didn't answer, snoring in her lap.
Sheegor glanced down at him. She didn't want to wake him, but she couldn't help but wonder… "What if… what if he doesn't come back at all?"
The thought made her shudder, but it also gave her a reaction she didn't expect: her heart leapt.
"No!" she squeaked, pressing her hands into her chest. "No, th-that's… that's not right! That would be terrible…!"
But would it be? another part of her wondered. If he didn't come back… if he's gone for good… wouldn't that mean you, and Mr. Pokeylope, and the inmates could all… leave? And never have to be scared of him again?
"Y-yes, but… who's gonna take care of them? And… and he needs help, too…"
Mr. Pokeylope opened one eye to glance up at her, but said nothing.
But wouldn't it be nice to be away from him forever?
"No, no it wouldn't!" she cried. She covered her ears, as though that would prevent her from hearing her own thoughts. "You can't think like this, it's not right…!"
"Honey," Mr. Pokeylope said, raising his head. "You're talkin' to yourself. Get some sleep."
"Oh… r-right, I'm sorry, Mr. Pokeylope."
"Don't be. Just get some shut-eye, and everything'll be fine in the morning."
"But… but the doctor—"
"I'll wake you up if I hear him."
Sheegor hesitated, but then nodded. "Okay… So long as you wake me up as soon as you hear him. He gets mad if I don't help him immediately!"
"You'll be fine."
"…Okay." Sighing, Sheegor settled into her seat, finally allowing herself to fall asleep.
By the time she opened her eyes, daylight was creeping through the open doorway.
"Oh no!" she cried, leaping up and nearly dumping Mr. Pokeylope off her lap (she caught him before he hit the floor). "It's morning, a-and I never let him up!"
"I never heard nothin'," Mr. Pokeylope insisted with a yawn. "He's probably still out."
Whining, Sheegor poked her head out of the room and looked toward the elevator. "We should go check!"
She hurried down to the elevator, stepping inside and taking it down, while Mr. Pokeylope ducked into his shell. When the elevator arrived at the asylum grounds, she scanned everything immediately in view quickly. "He's not here…! He said he would be back by nightfall, but he hasn't come!"
As she stepped out of the elevator, she found herself adding, "Oh Mr. Pokeylope, do you think he's gone for good this time?"
Mr. Pokeylope didn't answer, and she realized what she'd said. "Oops!" She held her free oven mitt over her mouth, and started to turn. "I'm glad he's not around to hear me say that… If he was, he'd be—EEK!"
Staring up at her, lying sprawled out at the foot of the fountain, was the doctor. His eyes gleamed straight into hers, and her blood ran cold.
"Oh—I—I—!" she stammered, holding Mr. Pokeylope closer, trying to hide him from the doctor's gaze. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Doctor Loboto, I didn't mean any of that, I—"
"Yes, well it's a nice morning, isn't it?" the doctor grumbled. She noticed that he was holding a teddy bear, for some reason—the one Fred used in his game—and he was very carefully tucking it under his arm as he pushed himself upright. Something was strange about the way he moved, and he seemed to have gotten his coat very… dirty…
Though the doctor was back on his feet and speaking again—and quite angrily—Sheegor heard none of it. Her stomach (and jaw) dropped as she stared at him, seeing nothing but the enormous blood stain on his side, and his total lack of a right arm.
It must be behind his back, she thought, but… no, his bloodstained sleeve was hanging limp from his shoulder. Her gaze turned to his face, which she now noticed was pale, and then back to his side. Unconsciously she held a trembling oven mitt over her mouth. No… he's… he's lost so much blood…!
"What are you looking at?"
The question yanked her out of her thoughts, and she looked back into his eyes. She could not tell if he was sarcastic or genuinely bewildered. "Y-you… D-Doctor! What happened to you?!"
The doctor's eyes flickered, but his expression otherwise did not change. He was wobbling where he stood. "I slept out here with a rock for a pillow."
"N-no, it's—it's—!" She could feel herself shaking—did he really have no idea? How could he not know? Or had he lost so much blood he'd become delirious?
The doctor drooped, and he took no notice as the teddy bear dropped from his hold. "Yes? Well, spit it out."
Finally, Sheegor willed herself to point toward his side. "Y-your arm!"
Without turning his head, the doctor turned his eyes toward his side, and his whole body gave a jerk, like he'd just seen the injury for the first time. "Oh," he murmured, as though noticing he'd misplaced a tool, and his body began to sway. "How did that happen?"
Sheegor bolted toward him, catching him before he hit the ground. She grunted as she held him up, letting him drape his remaining arm over her back. It was hard to keep hold of him—though he was thin, he was so tall compared to her—and part of her was terrified he'd start shouting again, or lash out. In the back of her mind she remembered trying to tap him on the side once to get his attention, and he had practically exploded at her. Now, though, he said nothing.
She was terrified—for herself or for him, she wasn't sure.
Carefully, she led him into the elevator—he needed to get back to his room, and she had to do... something. Make sure he wasn't bleeding out, for sure, though the blood on his coat seemed dark and dry. Once they had crammed themselves into the tiny elevator, she had it take them upward.
Though they'd both long since become used to the speed of the elevator, the second they stepped out, the doctor pulled away from her, dropping to his knees and retching.
…He's in a bad way, Mr. Pokeylope whispered into Sheegor's head, and she gave a start; she'd forgotten he was there. If we left… he couldn't come after us.
The thought made her stomach twist. "I know, I know," she whispered, "but I-I can't leave him like that—th-the asylum wouldn't… w-we were supposed to…"
Mr. Pokeylope looked like he was about to say something, but the doctor spoke up dazedly from the ground: "Just… get back to work… Sheegor."
Sheegor looked between the doctor and Mr. Pokeylope a few times. Finally, she gave the turtle an apologetic glance before reaching down to help the doctor up again. She eased his arm over her back and began to lead him down into the asylum, wincing as she felt his body tremble against hers (was he scared? cold?). Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance into his lab as they passed it, but he made no argument when she didn't take him in—even someone as determined as he couldn't work in this condition. She wasn't even sure if he would still…
Biting her lip, she moved a bit faster, guiding the doctor into the room that served as his bedroom. His bed was still a wreck, being nothing more than a mattress atop a broken frame—neither of them had taken the time to fix it—but it would have to do for now, and she eased him onto it. Part of her almost thought to cover him with a blanket, but there was something more important that needed to be done first. But how would she do it without touching him?
It only took a moment before she realized what she could do, and she took a step back, glancing away. "Um… I-if you want, Doctor, I can clean that robe…"
The doctor did not immediately respond, and for a terrified moment Sheegor worried that he might deny the request. But eventually he worked to get himself out of the robe, struggling quite a bit to get it done with just one hand, and she had to resist the urge to try helping him. When he finally got it off and chucked it in her direction, she took a second to glance at him as she caught it.
His body, though pale, was not covered in blood like his jacket was. It instead bore clean stitching where his arm had once been.
So he wasn't bleeding out. That was… good.
That was enough hanging around his room for now. She scurried out, calling behind her as she went: "I'll get this back to you as soon as I can Doctor bye!"
With that, she slammed the door behind her.
That left Sheegor as she was now, her oven mitts exchanged for oversized rubber gloves as she frantically scrubbed the dark stains from the doctor's lab coat with soap and baking soda that she'd purchased the day prior. This isn't what I thought I'd be using this for, she thought as she watched the cold water in the bucket slowly turn dark.
"Oh, Mr. Pokeylope…" she whispered, casting a worried glance behind her before she resumed scrubbing. "Wh-what did they do to him?"
"I don't think you need me sayin' nothin'," Mr. Pokeylope replied, huddling close to her (to comfort her or keep himself warm, she wasn't sure—perhaps both).
"I know, but…" She found herself staring down into the contaminated water again, at the pink suds—it made her stomach do flips, and she held up a dry towel to her mouth. Once the nausea passed, she resumed her work. By some miracle, the bloodstain was coming out, but the sight of the water and the smell of blood still chilled her. "Why would they do that?"
Mr. Pokeylope did not reply.
Her eyes darted over to him quickly. "You… you know, right?"
"…It's not hard to get angry with him," he finally replied.
"That's true…" Sheegor admitted. "But… he works really hard! I know, I work with him! They shouldn't be mad at him for that, should they?"
"Now, baby, remember who you're talkin' about."
"Right…" Her frame drooped a bit more than usual. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pokeylope."
"That's all right, baby. Say, how's that coat coming out?"
She lifted the coat up out of the bucket she'd washed it in to look it over—the stains were mostly gone now from the darker part, but the white part still looked light brown. Frowning, she dunked it into the water again. "Some of it's still bad… the doctor would get mad if I couldn't fix this. Maybe I can sew a new sleeve onto it…"
"I'm sure you'd do a fine job."
Sheegor's face lit up at the compliment. "You think so?"
"Of course."
Feeling slightly less terrible, she removed the coat from the bucket again, and dumped the rest of the contents out a nearby window. Silently, she thanked the original designers of the building that the plumbing here, by some miracle, still worked as she rinsed the soap out of the coat in the sink. After wringing it out, she scooped up Mr. Pokeylope and hauled the large coat down to hang near the furnace, so it wouldn't freeze in the cold building.
Sheegor finally swapped the rubber gloves for her much cozier oven mitts, and held her hands near the furnace to chase away the chill. Looking down, she smiled at Mr. Pokeylope as he marched up to the furnace to warm himself as well. Once she felt warm enough, she stooped down to face him. "I think it'll be a while before that coat is dry… You wanna get some food?"
"You know it, baby."
Giggling, Sheegor picked up the turtle again and headed back up the tower toward the kitchen. But as she navigated the precarious, twisting floors, she heard a faint sound echoing down from closer to the top: a horrible groaning. The warmth she felt was chased out by a terrible chill that brought with it vivid memories from this morning. She shivered, holding Mr. Pokeylope close and whimpering into his shell.
"Just forget him," Mr. Pokeylope said, keeping his voice low so it didn't echo. "He'll be all right."
Shaking herself, Sheegor gave a determined nod. "You're right! If he just stays in his room, he won't hurt anybody. Especially not you!" She leaned down to plant a kiss beside the turtle's crown.
She resumed heading up toward the kitchen, only to hear the haunting noises from the doctor's room once again, sending a chill down her back. He sounded miserable, and the noises made her skin crawl… and heart ache. "Well… we're gonna be making some food anyway. Maybe we could just… ask him if he wants some?"
Mr. Pokeylope didn't answer, but he didn't object either, only ducking into his shell, so Sheegor altered her course to head for the doctor's room first.
As she neared his room, the groaning grew quiet, and she felt herself shivering, mentally preparing herself for some form of outlash. But when she softly knocked on the door, there was no response. "Um… Doctor Loboto?" she whispered as loudly as she dared. "May I come in?"
There was no positive answer, nor objection, and Sheegor bit her lip before slowly turning the doorknob and opening the door a crack. Peering into the room, she tried to determine where the doctor was, and yelped. "Doctor!" she cried, flinging the door open and scurrying inside. The doctor was lying slumped over his desk, still pale and dazed. "Doctor, what are you doing?!"
His mechanical eyes, which had been flickering, slowly swiveled up to face her. "Oh, Sheegor… I didn' know you're here…" he slurred. "Did youuu… get those brains yet…?"
"What? N-no, Doctor, there's no brains here yet! They… they won't be here for several more months." She held Mr. Pokeylope close to her chest as she used her other hand to pull the doctor away from his desk. He growled at the action, but otherwise slumped back against his chair, which nearly tipped over backwards. Sheegor had to rush behind him to keep him from falling. "Careful! What were you doing, anyway?"
"I've gottin' idea!" the doctor cried dazedly, slapping his hand against some papers on the desk. "Gonna solve'r prob'lms…"
Sheegor cast a quick glance at the papers on the desk, but they'd been written with the doctor's non-dominant hand (his only hand, now) and were a near-indecipherable mess. At most she could make out what looked to be a pepper grinder with some strange attachments to it, confirmed by the very shaky writing beside it containing the term "pepper grinder." Little else was legible, so she turned back to the doctor—his head was tipped back to regard the broken ceiling.
While he wasn't paying attention to her, she looked over him more closely. It was strange seeing him without his massive jacket—he was tall anyway, and the straitjacket/lab coat he wore gave him an imposing figure, but without it, he was alarmingly thin. More importantly, though, without the jacket, she could get a closer look at the stitching around his chest and… where his arm had been. Obviously, whoever had stitched him back together hadn't done anything to fully help with the blood loss that left him in this state, other than make sure he wouldn't die.
They… really need him for something, Sheegor found herself thinking, eyeing the stitches.
But they wanted him scared, too, Mr. Pokeylope added.
Yelping, Sheegor fumbled with the turtle shell in her hands and frantically shushed it.
"SssSSTOP SHUSHING ME!" the doctor cried suddenly, flailing in his chair and knocking it backwards again. Sheegor barely caught him in time, gritting her teeth as she pushed the chair back upright.
"I-I wasn't—sorry!" she cried. "I was just, um—listen… D-Doctor, you're not well!"
The doctor made a noise that was a mix between a dismissal and a snarl, sweeping his arm out in a clumsy attempt to swat at her. She ducked away, her heart racing. "I'm fiiine," he slurred, slumping in the chair again and looking like he was about to tip over the side. "Rrright's rain…" His optics were flickering.
Leave 'im, Mr. Pokeylope urged.
Though her heart was still pounding from the doctor's outburst, Sheegor couldn't will herself to turn and leave. She looked from the turtle shell in her hands to the sickly doctor, then shook her head, stomping."N-no, Doctor! You're very… sick, and… and if you want us to finish our work for General Oleander and the other clients, then… then you'll need to get better!"
She tensed, her bravery nearly waning as she waited for the doctor's response. He didn't say anything at first, only staring blearily off to the side. But with a defeated groan, he finally reached out to her. Heaving a sigh of relief, she let him lean onto her and helped him over to his bed once again. There she tried to maneuver him to help him sit (not an easy task on a broken bed frame to begin with), only for the doctor to collapse onto the mattress.
Sheegor flinched back, waiting for the outburst, but none came—the doctor only groaned. Gingerly, she plucked the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered him with it. "N-now, um, you stay here. I'll get you some food, okay?"
"…Uh-huh," he grunted, and said nothing more.
"Okay, um… I'll be right back!"
Finally, Sheegor hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, panting as she clutched Mr. Pokeylope close to herself again.
"You're fine, girl," Mr. Pokeylope whispered, poking his head out of his shell. "Just fine. He's not gonna do nothin' to you."
"Y-yes, you're right," she said, though her heart was still pounding in her throat. "So um… let's get some food?"
"Mmmhm."
Glad to get away from the doctor again for a while, Sheegor resumed her trek to the kitchen, though her feet dragged at the thought that she'd have to go back to him soon.
At the kitchen, she set Mr. Pokeylope on the counter and poked through a few of the cabinets that hadn't fallen apart; she'd only just put the food she'd obtained away, so it wasn't hard to find again. The first thing was to open a tin of sardines—the turtle immediately lifted his head at the sound, his eyes and mouth both wide as he watched. Once she'd opened it, she set it before him, and giggled as he chomped down on the canned fish.
Next, she got to work hauling out a pot and filling it with chicken broth, vegetables, noodles, and some canned meat. This she heated on the gas stove until the dry noodles softened and a pleasant steam drifted from the pot. After tossing in some salt and pepper (using the new grinder of course), she finally ladled some out into a bowl for herself.
Mr. Pokeylope had waited to eat the rest of his food until Sheegor was done with hers, and the two dined together. Though cold winds still whipped through the broken walls of the tower, the soup warmed her to her toes.
"You're a fine chef," Mr. Pokeylope proclaimed, licking his beak.
"I didn't make the fish," Sheegor countered with a giggle, patting the turtle's shell. She finished up her bowl and moved to clean up, only to remember. "…Oh, the doctor needs some, too."
"Hmmm." Mr. Pokeylope huddled up, ducking partway into his shell. "You know you don't have to do anything for him—"
"Y-yes I do!" she snapped, letting her spoon clatter against the counter. Immediately, she covered her mouth with her oven mitts, wincing. "Oh—no, I'm sorry, Mr. Pokeylope, I didn't mean—"
But the turtle didn't look angry at all. Instead, he tipped his head at her sadly.
"I-it's just…" She shuffled her feet. "We… we don't abandon patients."
Mr. Pokeylope regarded her seriously. "Is he your patient?"
Before she could think of an answer, a dazed voice echoed down the hall. "Sheeeeegor…"
Jumping up, Sheegor scrambled to pour another bowl of the soup and to get a tray ready. She made sure to grab a glass of water as well, and a few chocolate cupcakes from the box. The latter she grabbed with a guilty glance at Mr. Pokeylope, but he only nodded. Once everything was balanced on the tray, she hoisted it up with one hand, nabbing Mr. Pokeylope with the other, and crept back to the doctor's room.
It took a bit of maneuvering to get the door open without dropping anything, but Sheegor managed, and carried the tray into the room.
The doctor was more-or-less where she had left him, though now he was curled up and shivering under the blanket. His eyes flicked toward her when she stepped in.
"It's freezing in here," he grumbled.
"Your coat will be dry soon," Sheegor said. She nearly set the tray down on the doctor's table, but paused upon seeing the papers scattered across it—maybe not there. "Um, can you… sit up? I… made you some food."
The doctor grumbled but shakily pushed himself upright, keeping the blanket draped around his shoulders.
Sheegor set the tray on his lap, but held onto it in case he couldn't balance it himself. The doctor stared blankly down at the food, and for a terrified moment Sheegor wondered if he expected her to feed him. But when he glanced to his side, she realized he must have been trying to move an arm that wasn't there, and her heart ached.
Finally, he picked up the glass of water with his shaking left hand and guzzled some of it down, and Sheegor heaved a sigh of relief. "You'll, um, need a lot of fluids, and… and… some sugary snacks—"
"I know what I'm doin'! I'm the doctor," he said, clunking his glass down on the tray. His optics swiveled down to glare at the cupcakes. "Sugar rots yer teeth."
"Y-yes, but you need it right now."
"Need s-sugar like I need a cavity…"
"No, you need sugar if you want to get better."
I'll take them if he won't, Mr. Pokeylope whispered into her head.
"No, he needs it!" Sheegor whispered harshly. She'd meant only to think it, but the doctor's eyes flicked up to look at her, and she yelped.
"Who needs it?" he snapped.
Thinking quickly, Sheegor shrugged. "Well, someone does. After all, we only have so much food here, and we can't let it go to waste…" She reached out to grab one of the cupcakes. "Buuuuut if you won't, then I'm sure Mr. Whytehead would—"
"Absollllutely not!" The doctor snatched the cupcake before her mitt touched it. "I'll have to pull his last two molars out if ya give him one of these." Begrudgingly, he shoved the treat into his mouth, grumbling as he chewed, "Bett'r me th'n him… I take 'nuff care of my teef t' offset th' damage…"
Sheegor managed to stifle a giggle at her success as she watched the doctor chomp down the cupcakes. "That was very selfless of you, Doctor!"
"Selfless?" he repeated, then swallowed down the last of the pastries. "I have a self! It's right here, next to you!"
"Of course." She thought about it for a moment, however, and realized she hadn't been entirely wrong—as far as he knew, he was acting selflessly. She found herself smiling down at Mr. Pokeylope's shell, though the turtle only shook his head from within it.
He is being kind, she argued.
Honey…
"What's this here?" the doctor asked, nudging the spoon that sat within the soup bowl.
"Oh, I made you some chicken noodle soup! It'll warm you up."
The doctor hummed, frowning as he dipped his spoon into the bowl. He took a hesitant but noisy sip.
"How is it?"
"…Not bad," he admitted, taking a more eager slurp this time.
Though Sheegor flinched at the noise, she was pleased to see the color starting to return to his face as he ate. "I'm, um, glad you like it. And, um, I was able to put some pepper in it, since I b—found a pepper grinder! You… were looking for one, right?"
"That's right. It'd be useful for our sneezing powder… hm." He stared down into the mostly-empty bowl and was quiet for a moment. "Good work, Sheegor."
She jolted upright as she was able, her face beaming and heart warming—when was the last time she'd heard praise from someone other than Mr. Pokeylope? "Oh! Thank you, Doctor!" she exclaimed. For some reason Mr. Pokeylope shuffled in his shell, but she ignored him. "I'm—I'm really glad to help! If there's anything else I could do, I'd be happy to assist you!"
The doctor tapped a finger against the soup bowl, his mouth twitching. "There is… one thing."
Again Mr. Pokeylope wiggled in his shell, but Sheegor was too ecstatic to care. "Of course! Anything!"
"The soup was good, but…" He trailed off, his finger tracing the rim of the bowl.
The"but" made her smile fade just a little, but she tried to shake it off. "But… what? If there's not enough salt, I can head back and—"
"No… I just think it would've been better if…"
"If what?"
"If it had been…"
"Been… what, Dr. Loboto?" Her feet fidgeted. "I-I think I could find some beef soup, if you—"
The doctor raised his voice as he went on: "If it had been…" And his optics swiveled to face her, his ever-present grin growing a bit wider. "Turtle."
Sheegor froze, the warmth within her sucked out like a vacuum. "Wh… what?" she whispered.
"Turtle soup!" the doctor cried, raising his head with a toothy grin. "Wouldn't that be nice, Sheegor?"
Shuddering, Sheegor took several steps back, letting go of the tray and holding Mr. Pokeylope's shell in both mitts. "N-no, Doctor!"
"Wouldn't you know!" he went on, optics gleaming. "We have fresh ingredients for it lying around, don't we!"
"No!" She clutched Mr. Pokeylope closer to herself, and flinched when the doctor's eyes turned to her hands.
"Ah, yes, right there!" The doctor swung his arm out toward her, reaching for the shell in her hands.
"GET AWAY!" Sheegor cried, smacking his hand away. When he reached out again, his smile turned a touch angrier, a growl working past his grit teeth. With another yelp, she grabbed the soup bowl and chucked it at him.
The bowl struck him square in the hand, and he gave a cry that sounded half-enraged, half-terrified, curling his arm close to his chest.
With the doctor's attention on his hand, Sheegor bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her.
"SHEEGOR!" the doctor snarled after her, but she didn't look back. Her heart pounded and her breath came in short pants, but she didn't stop running until she arrived at her own room several floors down, on the opposite side of the tower.
Once she was within the relative safety of her room, she shut the door and sank down to the floor, huddling close to Mr. Pokeylope. "Oh Mr. Pokeylope…!" she sniffled, her vision swimming with tears. "I'm so s-sorry!"
"That's all right, baby," the turtle said calmly, finally poking his head out of his shell to nuzzle her. "That's all right."
"I… I won't let him turn you into soup," she whispered, wiping at her face with one mitt. "O-or throw you out a window, or crack your shell…"
"I know you won't. You're a good kid."
"And I… I won't let him mess with me again." Sheegor shook her head. "Not again! I-I know how mean he can be… He—he deserved that!"
"That's right." Mr. Pokeylope nodded, smiling up at her. "You did good there."
"Right! And he can clean up the dirty dishes himself if he—" She paused, guilt tugging at her stomach as she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh…! I… I hit him in the hand, didn't I?"
"…Honey—"
"I… I didn't mean to hit him there. That's his only hand… oh… that was too mean…"
"Hey." Mr. Pokeylope nudged her. "You still got more of those cupcakes, right?"
"Y-yes…?"
"It's been a rough day. Let's snack on a few of those."
"Oh!" Sheegor wiped at her face again, but gave the turtle a tired smile. "You're right. That's a good idea!" Slowly, she pushed herself back to her feet, making her way back to the kitchen upstairs. "A snack would be nice."
"You deserve it," Mr. Pokeylope said with a dip of his head. …And a lot better than him.
Sheegor blinked. "What was that?"
"…Nothin', honey."
She shrugged it off, but even then, she swore she heard a faint thought from him:
You deserve better than him, and more.