Here comes some shower time ;) - though nothing inappropriate truly happens. Also, the legendary "head" scene is in a flashback and has more explicit detailing than in "Re-Animator: Dan Cain's Story". It will DEFINITELY make you cringe. Also begins Meg's downward spiral.

Chapter Four

Memories

She knew he was watching her, but she didn't care or acknowledge him. The hot water sizzled on her flesh but not tearing it away as much as she wanted to; it would never take away the feeling of Hill's tongue on her breast and almost down to her most meaningful spot. Meg was positive she would be sleeping and dreaming about it for a long time. The blood on the clear ivory canvas that was her body was left in heavy streaks, cleansing the evil that stained the outside of her. The smell of citrus and herbs that was Dan's shampoo and conditioner refreshed her senses. She wanted nothing more than to have this shower alone, but at the same time, she felt like she didn't want to be alone anymore.

The sound of the curtain behind her made her raise her head from rinsing her hair out, but then the awkward fire arose. She had seen naked bodies in the hospital during the operation and dead ones – those monsters roaming free by now – and she'd seen Dan nude every time they made love...and that brought back the pang in her heart. He's gone, her mind whispered again. She wanted to cry, but the hot water would wash it away.

"Meg?"

"Don't leave," she begged, still not looking up at him. It was too strange and surreal to be in the shower with Daniel's roommate who had started all of this, but it was better than nobody at all, no matter how many times she would say that. She jumped when his hand laid itself on her shoulder; that simple touch startled Meg out of her wits that she whirled around to face him...and found herself failing not to stare down his body, which was just as bare as her own was. "Uh..." Stupid word of choice.

West here in the shower – Dan's shower – was an adventure on its own, and she finally tore her eyes from his to look him up and down, the heat in her cheeks not from just the shower. His build was skinny, so skinny that he nearly resembled a malnourished animal; you could see his rib cage and pelvis, and his stomach gently curved inwards. His arms and legs were disproportionate, shoulders almost matching the width of his waistline. Now that she knew about his unhealthy addiction to his own serum if it wasn't the pure version he used on his subjects, that answered her question as to whether or not he ate or sleep. He has a nice body, but not the same as Dan, she thought, ashamed of it. She felt like she was cheating on him just being here in the shower with his housemate, checking out his naked form like herself. Megan finally tore her eyes away and let him slip past her so he could have his turn cleaning himself up. He turned his back away from her so she couldn't see him from behind, and she was slightly disappointed.

Meg stayed in there the whole time even though she did her part. She watched him lather his hair with the shampoo, running his fingers through his hair; she said nothing else as she continued to stare him over, shocked by the man-sized, dark purple bruise coiling around his body like a python, or maybe an anaconda. Another person would have been killed, but it was a miracle he survived. Meg was distracted by the shampoo suds running down the front of his body like thin white rivers and dripping suggestively off the dark curls around the base of his slender member. Finally, she could take no more and quickly pushed the shower curtain aside, grabbing the nearest towel she could and wrapping it around herself to dry off.

Going straight for Dan's room, she suddenly felt like she was caught in a vice. She let the cool air from the AC bathe her bare limbs while she hesitantly walked into this space full of memories. Memories that were both wonderful and painful at the same time. Heart wrenching, Megan increased her steps further until she bumped into the side of the bed and fell on top, clutching at the bamboo-patterned sheets and striped comforter, letting it all flow as it was.

"Daddy..." she sobbed. "Dan..."

She wished Herbert West had never come to Miskatonic. Why, why did he choose here? If that man – that arrogant, self-absorbed, inhuman creature who lacked respect for life and death – had never been here, none of this would have happened. Daddy would be alive, and he would have walked her down the aisle. Dan would be alive; he would have gotten his MD and married her as they planned; she would have gotten hers, and they would have worked side by side, actually saving lives and not making any of those mindless fiends.

But Hill's gone, too, she remembered. I knew West was creepy from the start, but it was Hill all along. If West hadn't been here, I don't know what Hill would have done. I should at least thank him for that.

She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but she was starting to get cold now. Getting up from the bed and drying off the rest of her hair, Meg made way for Dan's dresser and found a sweatshirt and flannels. Climbing back into bed, she allowed sleep to take over.

But when she did, she dreamed. And in her dream, she remembered the last time she spoke to Dan, how she'd wanted him to leave and transfer to another school; he in return turned it around and insisted it'd be her to leave Miskatonic. She never thought of it at the time until it happened. She had tried to hate him, hate him so much for what happened to her father, but she still loved him, but never had the chance to tell him when he spoke those three simple words to her...before her re-animated father broke into their home and took her away from Dan. For the last time.

~o~

The house felt empty, though she was the only occupant left in it. In her long flannel nightgown, Meg was just getting ready for bed – and would wake up the next day alone, with the routine of breakfast and then school, but with no one to wake up to and do those things for. Ever since Marianne Halsey died, it had always been just Meg and Alan. Her father who raised her until she got into college, but she still lived at home just to make sure he was all right, in case something happened to him when she wasn't around.

Now he was gone. Thanks to West, that lunatic…that MURDERER. She hated him more now than she did earlier. She had warned Dan from the very beginning, and he didn't listen, instead chose to pursue this dangerous path instead of the one he had with her. He was willing to throw it all away, all for this. She ought to hate him, too, for that. She'd have thought she could get him to see reason, get him to separate himself from West and his insanity.

It's West's fault Dan is acting crazy, HIS fault Daddy hated him now. He used to love him so much. Everything's falling apart now. She didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know who she could trust now.

One thing for sure, there was no way she could trust Carl Hill. The man obviously creeped her out; she wasn't sure if it was more than West did or if it was just the same, but he was scary as hell. Meg had always felt awkward and shy – AND uncomfortable – around him. After persuading her to sign the release form so he could perform "exploratory surgery" on her father – which turned out to be a total lie so he could use his lobotomy laser drill – he had told her to call him Carl from now on, that he knew she was on her own now and she ought to think of him as her confidant…she knew then that there was something more off about him.

Suddenly, an intense rhythm of knocking on the double door entrance downstairs; her bedroom door was open so she could hear it better. Hurrying down as fast as she could, knowing exactly who it could be at this hour – "Dan? Dan –" – she sped to the left side and opened it…

…and found herself immediately suffocating in a pair of strong arms that she had always felt safe and secure in all times, now feeling confused and frightened. The man holding her expressed the same feeling as he forced out, "I was so afraid."

"What is it?" she managed, prying away from him after a moment, not hard though, and looked up at his face. The large bruise below his eye, covering his cheekbone and partially to the outer side of his face had deepened to lavender and purple. She would have believed him fully broken if not for everything that made everything they had ever counted on so impossible now.

His handsome face that she saw in her dreams and waking moments was devoid of any readable expression, and his voice sounded empty and void. "Well…I don't know." She knew he was lying; he was here for a reason, but couldn't seem to find the right way to tell her. He gave a humorless laugh. "I was just…worried about you."

"Why?" She raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"I…I just feel horrible about everything," Dan admitted, lowering his gaze to the floor for a moment. "I guess I'm just getting paranoid."

Meg had been thinking about this ever since she'd gotten home, as much as it broke her heart, but perhaps it was for the best. "It's just…so hard to lose you." Another beat in her heart picked up a pace at his words, making it harder to say her turn.

"You should go away. Transfer to another school."

His response took her by surprise, but she wouldn't show it. Watching him, she saw he was fighting to keep his own emotions controlled, but his tone constricted with his throat. "Don't worry about me. You're the one that should get away. Go live your life…find somebody."

Okay, that was not fair. He was telling her he didn't feel like he deserved her. He was trying to put all of the blame on himself, but it wouldn't do any good and they both knew it. Meg wanted so badly to say that she didn't want anybody but him, yet she couldn't bring herself to actually say the words, so she settled on, "I tried to hate you. I wanted so much to hate you."

And then she saw it: the light in his brown eyes that had swept her off her feet the moment they first met. The shine that brightened her soul and even the darkest of days in their lives. He knew what she was trying to say even if she didn't say it directly, taking it as his cue to say it for them both.

"I love you."

Her lips parted in a silent "oh"…oh, God, she had still wanted to hear those three simple words. Perhaps even if they were far apart, it wouldn't change a thing. He was leaning in to give her one last kiss…she was crying inwardly, praying this wouldn't be the last time she felt his firm lips pressed against hers…

…and then the door was bashed apart, and inside roared and charged an "uninvited guest" neither had expected. Meg screamed and stepped back, far away from Dan, when she saw who it was, bloody and disheveled, and thought to have been locked up in Hill's office. "No, Daddy…!"

~o~

The next thing she registered upon waking from unconsciousness was the feel of cold, stainless steel beneath her back. Nothing in her head or anywhere in her body hurt, given her dead father knocked her out by cutting off her air supply. She worried about Dan if her father killed him with the force of the wall the way he did…but then decided to dwell on that once she got a clear face as to where she was now. And what was going to happen now?

Rolling her head side to side as a start to clear her head, Meg suddenly felt it: hands were running themselves up and down her front, massaging her sides and up to both of her breasts, grasping the heavy flesh with selfish need and no respect for her well-being.

She panicked then, opening her eyes – her vision was fogged for just a second before it cleared – and saw the source of semi-violation: a face with a protection mask strapped over the lower half, complete with a surgeon's turquoise hat and robe, and finally a white apron. Meg screamed then, first at the face and then down at her body, seeing that she was naked and unprotected, in greater danger than she'd anticipated. Looking around, she managed to see that she was in the hospital morgue. The smell of dead bodies reeked her senses.

And then, to her left – and in a square silver dish – was none other than the face of Dr. Hill. Of course, that wasn't all. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was splattered with blood…and the look in his eyes was far more than she'd seen him give her before. He'd planned all of this, he controlled her father and sent him to bring her here…and most of all: he was dead. Dead and brought back, and she was sure West was to blame. If she'd ever gotten out of here, though it was highly doubtful, she would strangle his thin little neck with her bare hands.

She screamed again, struggling even though she knew it wouldn't do her any good – and then one of the luckiest things, if only a small portion, happened: she managed to force her right hand free from its bind. Either this was intended or the binder forgot to secure it all the way did not matter at this point. The only thing she could do was swipe her hand up in her best move to strike the "person" in the face.

Which resulted in the head FALLING OFF…and showing a bloody, headless stump. And now she knew that this had to be Hill's body. And his head was in the dish beside her.

Her screaming only made the head in the dish beside her laugh maniacally at her fear, at her distress, and the fact that he was in control now. The headless body moved without an actual guide on top where it should be, grasping the head by the gray head, pulling it out so she saw where the neck ended, and strands of muscle hung out from beneath and dripping red drops of blood. Those eyes – cold and steely – remained on her the whole time as it was brought over her so that they made actual eye-to-eye contact. Meg could barely contain her whimpers as the head began to speak to her, voice raspy and distorted from severed vocal cords.

"I've always…admired your beauty, my dear." He paused to take in the suction of air; as he did, she could hear an eerie whistling sound. "I think I've always loved you."

Her wails and cries went unanswered, especially to her father who stood guard beside the table, soldier obedient and at attention, ready for the next orders, but could only watch and not act as his own daughter, naked and vulnerable, was on the verge of being raped by the severed head of the man he had severely misjudged. The feel of Hill's tongue skating over her ear made her want to retch.

"You'll love me." Oh, God, no – now he was being moved down south, stopping above her left breast, taking the nipple into his mouth and gently biting it not too hard. It made her sick to think that he thought she would enjoy any of this in this manner; biting the breast in intercourse acts was meant to be the most exciting of foreplay, but NO, not this way. Not with HIM. At her noise of objection, he ceased his activity for the moment to look at her pointedly. "Ahhh…you WILL."

She could take it no more; she did NOT want this bastard – this ungodly thing performing a sinful act on her in a sinful state. "Please…please, stop…" When he did not obey her wishes, she mustered up the last of her willpower as she tried her hardest to push him off of her. "LET ME GO!" But this only turned him on all the more, lifting his head – or rather, his disembodied head being raised by his hands – and showing that he'd left a trail of salve and blood on her breast; she was infuriated that her nipple hardened against her will.

"Yes, my dearest Meg…MORE PASSION…"

Meg's screams got louder, crying out to God to save her even though she knew it wouldn't happen – she hoped that for once West would have found Dan, figured out where she was, and came to her rescue – as the head was placed between her spread thighs. Now, this was more than she could bear. She had never been fond of oral sex, at least giving it to Dan, who respected the fact she didn't like the assorted tastes that came, as well as him kissing her mouth directly after he did it on her. "Oh…my….God…" she moaned in despair when Hill's face got closer to the juncture of her thighs, prepared to perform cunnilingus. And Hill was enjoying every bit of this.

"Yes, my love…" he rasped as he got closer…closer…

And then there was the voice. One she loathed but was glad to save her, no less. And the face it belonged to was one that headless Hill was not happy to see, either.

"I must say, Dr. Hill…"

~o~

The moment she jolted awake in the bedcovers, she sat upright, breathing heavily at first before slowing down to catch her breath. Looking around, she saw she was still in her lover's bed, but she was also alone. He's not here; he's gone. Don't go getting paranoid.

But Meg knew that she wouldn't forget about that, even though the whole act hadn't been performed all the way. She'd almost been defiled, but Dan and Herbert had rescued her. Only for one of them to lose their life. She could hear Herbert outside the room, whatever it was he was doing. Then it hit her that if she remained in this room any longer, she would end up having more nightmares. She needed some sleep tonight; a part of her didn't want to go to school tomorrow, and the police would still be coming here.

Meg didn't see Herbert in the hallway, automatically thinking that he might be in his room. The last time she was there when she found Rufus, it had not been a good confrontation, and a man like him never enjoyed his privacy invaded. But she needed somewhere else to sleep beside the loveseat or Dan's bedroom, which housed too much of the past. Herbert still hadn't finished with his room, so she climbed into the twin-sized bed and under the thin covers, closing her eyes and wishing sleep would come.

As sickening as it sounds, the head scene was fun to write. Mostly because of getting into Meg's mind during the ordeal. I remember the first time I saw that particular scene everyone remembers, and my poor psyche for the next few days. XD It doesn't bother me anymore, but it's still nasty as hell.