In this comes a moment that will break everyone's hearts.

Chapter Sixteen

A Matter of the Heart

Herbert finished placing the last of the ruined intestines and organs back into their original places after Chapham made a mess of the place. The smell of gore on his shirt and skin was no problem as he was used to it by now, but it ruined the freshness the recent sexual encounter had left on him. The aftermath had been ruined thanks to the nosy, violent fat man who was by now out there and screaming in agony over his lost arm. Well, it was no less than he deserved, for now.

Chances were if Chapham ever returned, then Herbert was ready for him.

The question was, though, where and how far could he have gone?

Herbert didn't have any answers tonight. Right now there was Francesca's dog lying on the operating table, with Chapham's amputated arm beside it, and he stood there a moment, contemplating what to do next, wiping his hands with a rag. He felt like he was reliving the time that Rufus the cat was killed, and had to bring him back; look how that ended. He knew that if he gave Angel the same treatment, Francesca would find out the truth and leave. Risk her going to the police and giving away the whole story…or rather, just simply leave them and want nothing more to do with them. Either way, Meg would lose the only true female friend she'd had in a long time. She would never forgive Herbert then.

Take the chance, his other self said. Give the bimbo her beast back. You know you don't like her, you know having her here is too dangerous. Meg will thank you one day, and it will be just you two, and your man. Make that three.

Cruel, he thought, looking away from the dog's carcass and severed limb. Very well, then. I'll do it, but this is just to give Francesca her pet back. She's in too much pain. With that, he turned and reached for his surgeon wear hanging right next to the door, slipping it on and moving around to find another rod to serve as a connection for bone to bone. When he found it, Herbert jabbed it into the hole where the dog's leg had been ripped off by unnatural strength, then picked up Chapham's arm and forced it on, picking up the vial of re-agent and dabbing some onto the connected muscles.

He waited for a short amount of time for the evitable to happen – and when it did, he drew back just as the barks and howls tore from the once-dead canine's throat as it jerked its head up and then back for another bark of new life. Herbert gave it a proud smile.

But then he heard it: the rattling of the doorknob. Instinct kicked in as he realized it could be Francesca coming down as both he and Meg had tried so hard to prevent. But something was always bound to happen. Acting on said instinct, praying at the same time it was only Meg, Herbert bolted for the door swiftly – leaving the re-animated dog where it was – and quickly opened it.

As he predicted, it was Francesca, looking at him with an expression that she tried to keep under control. An expression that read curiosity killed the cat. "What are you doing down here?" Herbert asked coldly, hoping it would be all that it took to get her back upstairs. And where the hell was Meg to keep her away? "Your welcome does not extend to this part of the house."

But she was no longer looking at him; glancing down, she let out a small gasp of shock and slight relief. "Angel?" she whispered. Startled, Herbert looked down and saw the beast there, bloodied and panting…and grabbed Francesca's hand with his human one, snarling viciously in time with her screams of terror. Well, what did she expect to find down here? She shouldn't have been looking where she shouldn't.

"Get that thing out of here!"

Meg. About time. But with her screaming friend and her furious expression on him as she began to haul Francesca out of here and for the stairs, now was no time for "saved by the bells". "Get out of my way!" Francesca shouted, breaking free from Meg's hold on her and ignoring the pleas that she could explain.

"You should never have brought her here!" Herbert told her, stepping in front of the dog and shutting the door behind it. I told you all along this would happen, and you didn't listen to me, Megan.

"Is THIS what you did to Dan?" The accusation made him freeze, and he could see it in Meg's body language. She knew…she knew about what happened the night of the massacre. It didn't matter how she knew, just that she had put two and two together, and everything came crashing down on them both. Mostly on Meg, who could only look at Francesca with pleading eyes and said nothing. "You're a freak," Francesca spat, stepping back. "A freak and a bitch. I HATE YOU!" With that, she turned and ran up the stairs, the door slamming after her.

Herbert watched as Meg collapsed onto the stairs in despair. She lifted herself only to sit down at the bottom and clutch her head with both hands. Her face was partially hidden from Herbert's view, but he could see her lips drawn back as she fought to keep in her cries of grief. He tried to console her from where he was standing. "You're better off without her. She doesn't understand."

"Don't you mean I'm better off without you?"

He was shocked to his core. "What?"

Meg looked up. Her eyes were red and glassy…and blazing furious blue fire. "You killed a man tonight, with FRANCESCA in the house, and look what he did to Angel! He almost killed us, too. Now Francesca is leaving, and that means I lost another good friend. Which means that as long as I'm here, I can't have what I would have had if Dan were alive: a normal life."

"A normal life doing what?" Herbert shouted. "Tending to sick and dying people only to lose them in this hypocrisy-ridden world run by men concerned only with grants and proposals instead of miracles for the good of humanity?"

A loud growl and smash against the door caused them both to look back. "This isn't good for humanity," Meg said hoarsely. "This isn't like any life form seen alive. This is a…abomination," she hissed. "An outrage against nature! I've been telling you time and time again whole people and not PARTS!" She whirled around and stomped up the stairs. "And your invitation to sleep in my bed has been REVOKED!"

~o~

Francesca had left last night…she really left. Now Meg was alone once more. Wandering the halls of the hospital the next morning, prepared for another bout of nausea just to release the tension of last night's events. And the sound of Herbert's voice, whom she did not want to speak to since last night, did not help it, either. "Meg, now listen to me." He was trying to make her forget about what happened if only temporarily, and focus on more "important things" – as important as putting together pieces of a dead man lying on a table in the basement laboratory – and it wasn't going to work. "All we need is one last piece…"

Meg stormed off and away from him. The only peace she needed was the sought-after peace she hadn't had in a year because of the direction her life had taken. She wanted her last hope to give it to her, the one who currently lay on his sickbed and looking up at her with a tired, blank expression. "Daniel."

He said nothing as she entered the room and sat down beside him. "How are you feeling?" No response, so she figured he was too tired to speak at the moment. Meg looked down and found herself gazing at his hand lying beside his body. A hand attached to an arm sculpted nearly the same way Dan's had been, which she remembered wrapping around her to hold her close to him. He was everything the Dan she loved was: handsome, dedicated, and successful...before his world shattered as hers had.

Meg took his hand she eyed in both of hers, admiring how warm the skin was, and feeling the faint throb of his pulse. "You see," she said softly, massaging the back of his hand, "it helps me to think of you as my…Dan. I see you as him, Dan who lived." Putting his palm to her cheek gave a small amount of comfort, and a warm, pleasant feeling washed over her and thawed her heart around the edges. It was like her Dan touching her again… "And what you said to me...I think I care about you, too."

NO! her subconscious screamed at her. This man's terminal; he won't live much longer, and you're carrying the baby of another man!

A man who got rid of my best friend last night…because he just COULDN'T help himself in attaching a severed arm to her dog and bringing him back. And Francesca knows about that night. Now she won't ever speak to me again. She remembered feeling sorry for Herbert when he finally opened up about his family – his mother shot by a homeless man and being raised by the renowned Dr. Hans Gruber until that fateful day which led to him coming into her life and turning everything to hell. Now it didn't matter; after finally getting rid of her dearest friend, she decided she finally wanted nothing more to do with this. She could find a way now to escape, bring her child up somewhere else without it ever learning who its biological father was. Maybe start over with Daniel; she could see eye-to-eye with him, feel the magic she'd once had with her lost love. She wanted the normal life she had lost.

And then she heard it. Looking up sharply, Meg's eyes shot right away at the EKG machine monitoring Daniel's vital signs. The lines are flat. "SHELLEY!" she screamed, jumping up and quickly turning the elevated head of the bed down so Daniel was lying flat on his back and began to perform CPR, just as Nurse Shelley burst in, and Herbert not too long after. "Paddles!"

Oh, I didn't even notice before, she thought in despair as she continued to push on Daniel's sternum, whilst the intern from Boston University began to set up the oxygen mask over his mouth for her. HOW COULD I NOT NOTICE BEFORE? I'M A DOCTOR! Screamingmentally to herself wasn't going to help anything, and neither would voicing it out loud. "I didn't even notice. God, what is wrong with me?"

"Let me through!" Shelley said, pushing past the intern in the room. Meg did the honors of ripping open the front of Daniel's gown, exposing his sculpted, muscular chest…so beautiful and every woman's dream of touch, if not for the fact that weight loss had done some injury to the once-bronze, perfect skin… Snapping out of her reverie and allowing her determination to overtake her, Meg took charge and grabbed the paddles. "Give me that. Clear!"

Sadly, charging power into the pectoral muscles didn't help. "Push the lidocaine." To numb any pain he would feel…IF he ever wakes. She prayed to God to please don't take him away. After an application of more gel and a second surge, nothing. Herbert stepped in then.

"Forget it, Meg." He had gloves snapped on, scalpel in hand. "Let's go in."

Meg grabbed the bone saw and proceeded to make the eight to ten-inch cut in Daniel's chest, slicing through the breastbone for the parting. He needs anesthesia; he'll die this way if he's not put under sedation. "He's never going to survive this."

"He's already dead, Meg." Damn it, Herbert, WHY? She'd suddenly panicked and experienced the consequence of it. "No, you're off midline!" he shouted, but it was too late. The sooner Meg made that small mistake that should never have happened, blood spurted fast and onto her face. Shrieking a little, Meg backed away from the bed as far as possible, then collapsed beside Nurse Shelly, defeated and despaired.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. She clutched her mother's pendant in her hand tight, praying with all her might that Daniel survived…

Herbert was doing all he could since it was she who made the STUPID mistake of cutting a small part of the sternum and perhaps a vein, or something. He grasped the heart and applied enough pressure to try to get it beating again. Almost like trying to get Dan's heart to beat again. "Come on!" he growled, massaging the organ a few more times before looking up at Shelley. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "Still flat."

Herbert sighed heavily, bowing his head briefly. He looked defeated, but unlike Meg, he wasn't grief-struck. He raised his hands – a too-vivid red – more blood than her own hands. How symbolic. But then he said THE words. The dreaded words. The DAMNED words.

"I'm calling it."

The world had stopped altogether. Meg felt like she was having an out-of-body experience when she jumped up from where she was and screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" No no no no no, please, God, NO! Not again...

~o~

He might have been jealous of Daniel Adams, but Herbert did care about the man enough to save his life. Mingled with his absolute loathing of failure, he hated seeing Meg distressed when they lost a patient. He hated getting the blood of failure on his hands, as much as he hated failed re-animation. Now that his lover, who still wasn't speaking to him since she rejected him from her bed after Francesca's departure last night, was in an even darker state of grief and despair – and perhaps madness – than before.

He had sent Meg home only moments ago, and their superiors and coworkers agreed, knowing how much she loved the patients and was heartbroken whenever they were lost. Now he was standing alone, looking down at the white sheet covering the body of the man they'd lost – the man who bore the first name and physical resemblance to the one whose heart would soon beat life once again. Blood was beginning to soak through, from where his chest had been cut open for the necessary pumping of the heart; it had been like he was trying to get Dan's heart to beat again, and Herbert knew Meg had been thinking the same. Despite their differences, it was wonderful to know they sometimes shared the same mind.

But more importantly, he stared at the head of the bed, where he had put a replacement for what he had taken before he made the call to pathology, requesting Graves' young fool, Ernest, to come to room 613: the last piece for his creation. Now the puzzle would be complete, and Dan's heart would beat again.

"Yo, Dr. West."

"Ernest." Herbert regarded the young man with a contemptuous eye, taking in the teal scrubs over what a mindless imbecile of a ladies' man would don: a Hawaiian-themed shirt. Sometimes Herbert wondered if his mother, if she was even still around, would dress him if he still couldn't do it on his own. "Help me get this. You get the feet, I'll get the head." After carrying out as spoken, Herbert taking every caution to not let his replacement fall out and let Ernest piece it together, the imbecile had the nerve to insult him.

"Was he good-looking, Doc? I heard Dr. Halsey lost it again. Maybe that's why she –" How DARE he insult her by insinuating such scandalous nonsense? Herbert silenced him with a glare.

"Take this to the crematorium. And I mean the crematorium." With that, he picked up the tin bucket covered with a white cloth and marched out. Thank goodness the nosy Chapham wouldn't pry any longer about this, but that didn't stop him from worrying about a poor soul out there…and wondering WHEN he would show up again. What do you expect? his other half said. You don't just go and bring your foes back and not expect them to retaliate. Didn't Dr. Hill TEACH you that at all?

Which was precisely why the new Dan had to be completed soon. And tonight was the night. He didn't care that Meg was still angry with him, and her grief over another loss would soon mend once their creation was living and breathing like no other.

~o~

Being back at the hospital felt surreal, mostly because Megan and that diabolic, blasphemous inhuman monster she shared a house with worked here. She'd spent the day finding a house in the suburbs and found one, but moving day was scheduled till next week. She thought about going back to Meg's house, but she was conflicted because of last night. Now Francesca didn't know what to make of this anymore. She was feeling what she had felt as she'd read those horror tales indulged to her as a child, raised in Argentina after her mother fled Italy from an arranged marriage and married a Spanish plantation owner. The reality rules happened to have been broken, because of what West did to Angel, whatever, and HOWEVER he did it…

"Whoa!" She nearly fell over, lost before in her thoughts, and cursed her stupidity, but managed to grab a hold of something and steadied herself. Looking up she glared at the face of a goofball who had the potential but chose not to do it. "Yo, ma'am, I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

"You didn't see me?" Francesca repeated, offended. "You didn't just happen to not see where you were going?" She made a face as she looked down to see that he was probably carting a…body casket. Ugh!

"Hey, I said I was sorry, Miss…?"

"It's Francesca. And who would you be?" Looking at him more closely, she felt her irritation subside only a little. If she wasn't so exasperated from last night and the duration of the day, she would have found him…cute. Well, cute in a dorky kind of way. But already she could tell he was the type of guy her parents would have warned her to stay away from: the kind who made you laugh but turned out to be not so helpful.

By the side puff in one cheek, he clearly had food in his mouth. See what I mean? "Ernest, ma'am. Nice to meet you, but I have to get this poor guy to the crematorium." She watched him go, feeling disappointed and not happy at being called "ma'am". That was for an older woman than her. And then she remembered what she'd come here for and eventually found her way to the front desk, where a woman in a dark teal cardigan with short, curly auburn hair was writing something down.

"Excuse me, have you seen Dr. Halsey?" Francesca asked.

The woman looked up at her then. Her name tag read "Shelley". "She left, for the day, I think."

There was something in the way she said that Megan left; she'd never known Meg to leave duty so early with so much at stake. Unless something happened to make her take off. "Is there something wrong?"

"She's very upset," Shelley answered, her face contorting to sadness and sympathy. "She lost a patient. You know, I never knew a doctor that cared so much."

Francesca felt her heart melt, but at the same time, she felt confused. Knowing Meg, she would collapse when a person's life could not be saved; she had a heart of gold. It made Francesca believe that despite whatever mistakes, she still possessed one. Smiling, half to herself, she agreed, "Yeah."

But West, that disdainful man…what's the reason behind his madness?

You know, I cried when Daniel died, and poor Meg's heart as well as her mind broken. And poor Herbert, the longer he keeps his love for her hidden, the harder it is to kill.