In comes where Meg finds herself wholly involved with West's grisly experiments, in which getting out proves harder than she thought.

Chapter Five

His New Unwilling Assistant

Wrapping the bathrobe that had been hung up behind the door around him, Herbert was ready to go back to work, but not actual experimentation with the re-agent just yet. No, his mind was full of ideas based on Hill tonight that he had to get into his notes. He spoke words without the need for lungs and attached cords, retained intelligence through detachment, and his body could still move of its own volition. Consciousness was present not only in the brain but the whole body. He felt more than just laughing; he had to tell Megan as much as he knew it would set her off.

He found Daniel's room to be empty and frowned. Strange; he knew she would have gone in here for the night...and then it hit him: my room. Where else would there be? His raging nerves lit up with irritation as he'd made it loud and clear that he did NOT like anyone in his room. But upon going in and finding her sound asleep in his bed, he froze in the doorway altogether. Meg was wearing what looked like Dan's clothes – mostly seeing the oversized sweatshirt hiding her curves – and wrapped up in the minimal blankets he owned. He shook his head, walking over to sit at the foot of the bed, studying the way she slept on her side, hands beneath the side of her face serving as an extra pillow. She was so peaceful, but peace was hardly something Herbert owned. When he was a child of seven, he'd have nightmares that resulted in being up all night reading or just laying under the stars until he fell asleep. When he was in his teenage years and enduring maturity stages, Dr. Gruber, who served as his sole and only living guardian until that terrible day in Zurich, began to aid him in REM sleep to release the negative energy until it began to become a distraction in college years when he started testings of his earliest solutions on dying animals – or ones he killed himself – and the theory was born like that.

If the re-agent could give life to a dead organism, could it be used as rejuvenation for dying brain cells?

The reason the latter part of that theory had been brought up was the fact that lack of sleep would kill the brain, the cells dying and therefore the brain would eventually stop being able to function. By testing a small, weak dosage of his solution – two CCs as he used to this day – only two years into medical school, Herbert discovered that there was no further need to increase the dosage that would result in ending his own life. He remembered that wondrous feeling of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and straight to his brain, as well as to all parts of his body with the rush and susceptibility of an orgasm. Herbert was a twenty-five-year-old virgin, having never masturbated either as he saw it as a sickening deed. Gruber assured him that it was perfectly normal for every human being, but some cases of it preventing them from important activities were his reasons for not putting his hands on himself. Besides the point, the cells in his brain, with the help of the re-agent, would revive and allow him to go on without sleep and the fear of his body and brain giving out, and reduce the distraction that was sleep. It became a routine since then, from the days he didn't have school and managed to use his equipment borrowed from school or Gruber, in case he'd wound up pulling an all-nighter. Which was his routine now.

But now he was looking at the girl sound asleep in his bed, undisturbed and unmoving but breathing evenly. He wanted to ask her why she chose to sleep in his room but decided he shouldn't wake her. He had other matters to handle for now, and that was making plans for future experiments. But first, he quietly moved about the room and grabbed some clothes so that she wouldn't wake up and see a naked man in the room with her. Don't be shy; she's seen you, his other half reminded him, and he shook his head.

~o~

She slept like the dead the rest of the night. It felt like eternal darkness she thought she would never awake from, but it was better than the revisit of the memories. When Meg opened her eyes, sunlight poured in through the window, causing her to squint so slightly. Normally when she awoke to sunlight, she would smile and look forward to another day. But not now. She sat up and stretched, her bones cracking and leaving her relieved if short-lived, before getting out of bed.

It was then that she heard the phone ringing and then West's voice. She paused at the kitchen doorway when she heard him speak. "Hello? Oh, Dr. Harrod, what a surprise." She's calling because of me. She just knew it. "Oh, yes, Miss Halsey is here with me. She couldn't go back to her house, no; I'm sure you understand." There was a pause. "Of course, I'll tell her, thank you. We'll return tomorrow, the both of us. Thank you for understanding. Good day." He hung up, and that was Meg's cue to announce herself. There was the smell of coffee which made her weak at the knees as the smile Herbert gave her.

"Well, Sleeping Beauty has awoken," he noted. She laughed at the reference to one of her favorite fairytales. "Was my bed much better to slumber?" She rolled her eyes as she accepted the mug of steaming black coffee, though she preferred cream and sugar in hers, so she made her way for the fridge.

"Much," she answered simply. "I tried sleeping in Dan's room, but when I slept, I revisited the morgue..." She stopped there and found it in her to boldly look him in the eyes, seeing understanding while his expression remained aloof. "And I didn't take you to like fairytales." Good job, change the topic.

Herbert chuckled. "Quite a few I remember as a child, not that they truly matter as they would a young child."

So he wasn't always single-focused on science. But he doesn't seem happy revealing anything about himself. She still didn't know anything about him besides his obsession with death; she considered poking about his room when he wasn't around just to try and find any clues about his mysterious past, but he could always pop up again like he did when she found the poor cat. She needed to change the topic again. "What did Dr. Harrod want?"

"Oh, just that the police are wanting to talk to us, and she said we could take today off after last night if we want to," he stated casually. "Of course, you heard me."

Daddy used to say that days off for a doctor were unheard of unless it was a serious situation, so she couldn't argue. Meg sighed and nodded. "And the police?" To know the expected questioning was coming up was not to be taken lightly. Herbert nodded.

"Yes, she said they would be on the way to see us soon, but not too soon," he added.

Meg walked over to the stove, opened the doors under the countertops, and searched for the needed pans. "Would you like some breakfast before they come?" Her stomach was growling, though she didn't feel like she could eat anything. Might as well suffer nausea for it.

She looked back at Herbert when he didn't answer, seeing him shake his head. "I don't eat much anymore. My work has consumed any activities like this, and after I take my dose, I feel sick to eat."

She frowned and got out four eggs from the fridge, after spraying the pan with Pam spray. "It's not healthy, you know. I don't know how you or anyone else can walk around without some food in your system –"

He interrupted her briskly. "I would drop this topic if I were you. I know well it isn't healthy. But I would rather not be distracted by anything else."

Oh, so he considered everything a distraction from his work? His work was all he ever thought about! Meg glared at him but said nothing, turning her attention back to the stove to finish cooking in silence, and then they ate in silence. Herbert ate it slowly as though trying not to get sick. He avoided eye contact with her the whole time. Megan had a series of other questions on her mind: why did he push everything else away for the sake of something so ghoulish and wrong? Did he have any family? And how could he be so reckless to inject himself with that stuff?

She cleared the table and set the dishes in hot soapy water along with the pan, walking out to shower and change, slipping into a large t-shirt that she tucked into jeans, which had to be secured to her small waist with a belt. Wearing her boyfriend's clothes as well as the smell of him – chilled grapefruit and musky oak – made her want to keep these and never wash them, just so she could at least keep something of Dan alive. But the clear-thinking side of her insisted that she would be living an unhealthy life, always thinking of him. This house was filled with pain and tragedy. So many rooms...so many whispered voices in the air...so many pictures of herself and him on the walls and dressers...

Meg was back in the kitchen only to see Herbert at the table with a little black book she recognized as a journal, and a manila folder opened on the table. She got the clenching feeling in her gut as she stepped closer and gasped when she read a newspaper clipping reading in bold print Megan Halsey Voted Sophomore Sweetheart...and pale strands of hair tied together with a colored ribbon, as well as a few photographs she recognized of herself as she grew from a toddler to a young woman. "Is that...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

Herbert looked up from his notes and nodded. "Dan said he recovered it from Hill's office. Even mentioned your involvement."

She nodded and sat down across from him, numb to her core. "He was guilty about what happened to Daddy, came and told me everything." How the corpse you brought back killed him, how a simple sorry changed nothing much, and... "And he wanted to turn himself in, but we went to see him to get hard proof. We saw the laser mark." Hot rage burned her blood once more; she sucked in a breath and held it in for a few seconds, letting it out slowly. "Hill made me sign my permission to examine him, perform exploratory surgery...but it was all to..." Her throat constricted; she just couldn't finish it. He changed my father into a mind-controlled machine without my knowledge. Why didn't I see it?

Herbert nodded briefly. "Dan filled me in, too."

"But why?"

"So he could ensure Halsey never mentioned who was really behind his successful re-animation. To take the credit for himself as he did to Dr. Gruber." He spat and shook his head before looking down at the file Meg pushed in front of him.

"Did you know about this before you killed him?"

"Of course not," he answered calmly. "How would I have known he projected some...obsessive desire for you?"

I knew there was something about him every time I caught him looking at me longer than needed. How could Daddy have misjudged him? It's Hill's fault he opened his mouth and said something; he knew about him and West rooming together, he hated Herbert, and he wanted Dan out of the picture so he could get me. All of it made sense to a degree. And West finished him for me even though it led to him finally acting out on what he wanted most. She jumped when she felt slender, warm fingers latch themselves onto hers.

"Did I offend you?" His eyes were smoky, his smile bordering on mild menace, and it scared her a little. Megan pulled her hand back.

"Just a little," she said quietly, still staring into his eyes and finally lowering hers when that smile became too much for her. Damn, how can someone who scares me so much be so...cute at the same time? She frowned. Wait, did I say "cute"?

Then there was something shoved in front of her in return. Looking down, she saw his opened notebook. "Read and understand," was all he said. He wanted her to read the so-far basis of his life's work. Sighing, Meg took it and began to read it aloud.

"'I, Herbert West, have breached new grounds in my mentor, Dr. Hans Gruber's line of work, the theory of the nature of death and the possibility of overcoming it. However, my views are shunned and ridiculed by faculty and staff alike, as I do not believe there is a God in existence. I believe strongly, as Gruber, that the body is a complex organic machinery that can be recharged and set going in the peculiar fashion known as life, but it has not yet come to fruition. With various animating solutions, I have spent years and years with my dear teacher; I have killed and brought to animated life a number of rabbits, guinea pigs, cats, and dogs.'" She stiffened, stopped, and looked up at him, gritting her teeth. "You did kill Rufus, didn't you?"

"I did not," he returned. "It was as I told you; he knocked the garbage over and got his head stuck in a jar. You're never going to believe it, are you? All because I put the poor beast in my fridge until your boyfriend returned."

You're right, the hell if I believe it or not. Him insulting Dan that way made her forget about the cute comment and want to smack that pretty little face off. But instead, she returned to the readings. "'Several times I have obtained signs of life in these small beasts, but with the increase and strength of each solution, the reactions have become more violent…and my research has become more difficult. Which is why I intend to go on the hunt for an assistant. Someone hard-working, bright, respected, and with access to certain authorities, such as the freshest specimens.'"

All of this hit her with the realization just like that. "You knew Dan was your choice the moment you met him," she stated.

Herbert nodded vigorously. "My animal subjects have never fully succeeded, for I needed to test my re-agent out on a human corpse. A corpse fully equipped with all the internal organs present and the tissue being in the freshest condition since the departure of life. However, as much as I hold to Haeckel's theory that all life is a physical and chemical process, it stands nearly impossible to obtain fresh subjects. Surely you must realize that."

"That would explain that other one? The one that killed Daddy?"

"Correct. It'd been dead for hours, which isn't nearly as fresh. Which requires further testing."

Everything he was telling her was against everything her father and teachers from younger years had taught her. Against every religion on earth that she still clung to. A complete disregard for what made life worth living. But he's prolonging life, her other self said. He's trying to find the answers to what every doctor has tried to do forever...ensure people have longer lives.

But with ghastly, grotesque results, she returned hotly. "I don't know about this, after all, then," Meg said finally, standing from the table and going over to the sink to clean the dishes. "All of this got Dan and my father killed in the first place. If you think I'll end up risking my own life for you –"

"Oh, and what then?" he spat, the sound of the chair pushing back as he stood up, too. "Would you turn yourself in, too? That would do no good for the world. You'd be labeled mad and confined forever in a padded cell no different than your father. You'll spend the rest of your life reliving that night in your dreams, regretting turning us both over in the first place." She whipped her whole body around at the next part. "In addition, if I never came here, what would Hill have done no differently than this?" In his hand was the file on her. She felt the bile rise in her stomach; she wanted nothing more than to get rid of that thing.

"Throw that thing into the garbage," she hissed.

He laughed and shook his head. "What, and lose the one source of proof that he tried to come onto you?"

"How will they tie to him being the orchestrator instead of us then, genius?" Meg sneered.

"He had taken some of my re-agent, remember?" West answered. "They won't identify it, but there might as well be his fingerprints smeared everywhere IF they have their luck of finding any in the mess. But I highly doubt they'll reveal the truth about 'zombies roaming the earth', get no further than 'naked maniacs and bodies in various states of dismemberment'." He fixed his cold gaze on her. "The decision is up to you, but you know, deep down, that I am right as always."

Dan's face – both dead and peaceful on the hospital table, then the ferocious snarl as he was brought back in a rage, disturbed from his peace and tried to kill her, too – lit up in her brain again before it vanished in seconds, the same with her father's. Herbert was right; nothing would bring Dan or her father back. No one can bring the dead to life, the other half of her conscious insisted. You've seen enough to know it.

But before she could answer, the doorbell rang. Meg nearly jumped out of her skin. "Shit, I think the police are here now."

Herbert nodded, before jerking his head behind him to the table. "Damn it, I need to hide my notes." He hurried that way to his room. Leaving Meg to leave the kitchen for the door. Her heart was racing, and the sweat was threatening to break from the pores. If whoever the officer ready to question her was were to see the shine, he would know the obvious. She braced herself and answered the door.

He was a man somewhere barely middle years, dark-haired with a mustache and a kind of fatherly appeal to him, smiling though he was eager to get his job done. "Miss Halsey," he said, sounding surprised. "I'm surprised I'd find you here. No one was home, and the door was broken down."

"Yes, and that has to do with what happened at the hospital," she answered, happy her voice remained steady. "I wanted to head home last night, but this was Dan's home, and I needed to clear my head." She stepped aside for him to come in, knowing that West speeding at his finest to hide his precious work.

I see." He showed her his badge. "Detective Mark Wells, Arkham police. I understand how hard all of this is for you, and I do have a lot of questions, but I'll try not to make this any more difficult than it already is."

"I appreciate it. Can I get you some coffee?" At the brief nod, Meg retreated to the kitchen and retrieved the request, returning only a moment later and finding that West had come into the detective's presence, regarding him with that same cool expression he was good at putting on for the public.

"I take it you were Mr. Cain's roommate?" Wells questioned, regarding him closely, sitting down on the loveseat. He smiled and accepted the mug from Meg.

"I am. I have been at the school for but a few days now, having transferred from Switzerland," Herbert answered. "I did independent research with Dr. Hans Gruber before he died."

"Ah, Hans Gruber. He was an inspiring figure. I take it that you take after him in the theory of…the re-animation of dead tissue?" Meg stiffened where she was; she'd heard from a few of her classmates that Herbert had already made himself notorious in his clashes with Dr. Hill and his theories about the location of the will of the brain.

"Indeed I have," West answered calmly. He was good at holding his ground, she'd give him that. But it made her wonder if that hard shell would ever wind up cracking after long hours of prying and interrogation. She wasn't sure if she could handle that herself.

Things get juicier in the next chapter. ;D Takes things further with the word "rapture" in the story title.