I don't own Death Note.

Hibernaculum

"Doctor?"

B brought the lights back up to 50 percent, and switched all monitors back on in the observation room. The two humans currently occupying his territory were both offline, one leaning on the desk and the other leaning back awkwardly in her chair.

". . . Doctor?" He tried again, his solar eruptions intensifying with the increased volume of his all too human voice.

Vey cracked an eye open, only able to see the golden color the AI's hologram splashed onto the white metal in front of her. "Yes, B. What is it?"

"Your subject is at 96 percent completion. Elapsed time is 15 hours and 10 minutes. ETA is approximately 34 minutes and fluctuating."

She brought her legs down from the desk, righting herself and rubbing at the pain in her neck. "Any anomalies?"

"None, Doctor. It's been smooth sailing all the way."

"Thank you. Please continue to monitor his progress."

"Yes Ma'am."

She heard the slight swish as the AI faded from the room, returning the ambient color back to sanitary white. She looked to Shepherd, his open-mouthed face attached to the metal of his pillow. He was such an adorable boy, with his soft brown eyes and muss of dark curls. Unlike her civilian clothing, he wore the standard issue pale blue jumpsuit, and that comical white lab coat he insisted on out of sheer nostalgia. If it weren't for the insignia littering his clothing, she would have never pegged him for the military type. Probably forced into it by his parents, or–

"Anything happen?"

She hadn't realized he'd opened his eyes. "So far, so good. Almost finished."

He raised his head and swiped a hand across his mouth to remove the little trickle of saliva that had escaped during his nap. "How long were we out?"

She tapped a fingernail against the touch-screen keyboard set within the steel in front of her, bringing up a detailed progress report. "The last I saw was 65 percent, so I'd guess about 5 hours or so."

He nodded, stretching and then settling down to go through the status reports on the monitor designated for his own side. He examined first the new construct, and then the original brain in half hour increments.

"An awful lot of activity went on around the 90 percent mark." he commented, looking at the charts.

"It's just residual. The electrical pulses sent throughout the brain are stronger then in order to check for errors." She reached over to tap his right knee. "Just as if you were to react to me hitting your knee with a hammer – the brain reacts in the same way to electrical stimuli. It's the electricity making him twitch, so to speak."

The Lieutenant wasn't sure he was convinced. What difference did it make where the electricity came from, the result was still the same wasn't it? Not that it mattered now anyway, given the current status of the brain.

"What are you going to do with the original?"

She leaned an elbow on the desktop, watching the monitors. "What's to be done with it? It's beyond repair, now." One of the drawbacks of the process . . . she hadn't figured out how to prevent the original tissue from being destroyed.

He shrugged. "I was just thinking maybe that's a decision he'd like to make."

She couldn't help but turn her head to look at him. "His decision? He's MSI property, Lieutenant. It's my project, and my decision. And I see no point in keeping a now defunct brain around as evidence."

"You're not even considering Singularity?"

"I haven't even gotten that far yet. All I'm worried about at the moment is whether this will even work, or not. Nevermind whether or not he'll be able to solve that problem." Which was a total lie. She'd thought about it, but had decided it best not to get her hopes up.

"So don't you think you should wait to destroy anything, at least until we see how this ends? If a solution is possible, I think it would certainly be him who figures it out."

Vey noted his use of 'we' in reference to her project. Not that she minded – if it weren't for him they wouldn't even be here discussing it, and she liked the company of someone so interested in her work. It was just . . . odd to hear.

"You're getting ahead of yourself. The chances of success are slim, and you've already got him rebuilding matrices." She sighed. "We will discuss this later, if you'd like, and I'll hold off on any irreversible action if it makes you feel better about it."

He gave her a little thankful smile. "It does. You might not have faith, but I do."

She let it drop. There was a difference between faith, and setting one's self up for disappointment. But let him handle it however he wanted.

She decided to sit in silence for the remaining 3 percent, and Shepherd followed suit. They sat still, watching digital representations of their progress, and prayed to no God in particular that their balloon of success didn't suddenly pop on the home stretch. She didn't really expect it to, since it wasn't the transfer that gave her problems, but anything was possible given the unique circumstances of the brain.

It wouldn't be long now before she could rush him back to her office and 'wake' him up. What would the result of that be? Would she receive any kind of response at all, or would she end up with another dud? She'd gotten a few of those before, and after days of waiting had decided to scrap them. Some never woke up, and some woke up immediately. Those that did awaken would seem fine for a little while, and then quite suddenly they would supernova into madness. And that was always tough to watch, because it was never pretty – in human beings or anything else.

She was staring off into space, lost in thought, when she felt Shepherd's hand on her arm. But before he could open his mouth, B materialized into the observation room.

"Process complete, Doctor. Security lock disengaged."

She heard the heavy click of the door that separated the two rooms unlocking, indicating it was safe to enter. Shep was out of his seat and through the door before she even stood up from her own. She shook her head, swearing that sometimes she thought he was more excited about the entire thing than she was. She joined him in standing in the center of the room, both of them craning their heads upwards in wait for the pod to appear.

After a few moments, it came into sight, and then lowered slowly down the grav field.

"It's not going to be a pile of goo, is it?"

"No. It'll look the same." she replied, watching it come to a halt and hover just below eye-level.

And to Shep's relief, it did look exactly the same, as if it had never been bombarded with massive amounts of intense energy for almost 16 hours. "Shell?"

"If you want to hang on to it, then yes." She watched as he removed the hunk of meat from the sphere and returned it to its glass home for the time being. He'd have it filled and resealed once they separated, but right now he wanted to see the other half of the process.

"So?" She'd moved to the east corner of the room, and he moved to join her.

"It's coming," she replied, staring at a small slit in one of the titanium panels. "It's being packaged and sealed."

He could hear what sounded like a sizzling sound, and the movement of machinery. And then, unexpectedly, it jutted halfway out like an old ZIP drive, and startled him. Pulling it free, she held it delicately between her thumb and forefinger, careful not to leave any fingerprints even though it didn't matter.

"Here," she held it out to him, but he only shook his head. She chuckled at him. "It's alright, Lieutenant. You won't hurt it."

He tentatively offered his palm out, and she dropped it unceremoniously into his hand. It was warm, the metal smooth. For the amount of data stored within it, it was such a tiny chip – taking up about as much space in his palm as an old silver dollar would. Although thin and fairly lightweight, it was well constructed and gave him the impression that it would take an enormous amount of pressure to damage it.

The rectangular bordering was a shiny gunmetal color, but the quarter sized circular hole in the middle was clear. Inside that hole, he could see what looked like moving, glowing strings all jumbled together in a loose yarn ball, creating a pool of brilliant, electric-blue light. It must have been that energy encased within its metal shell that created the warmth.

"It's . . . beautiful." There was no other way to describe it . . . like looking at an exploding blue star inside the palm of his hand.

"Isn't it?"

He handed it back to her. "What now?"

"Now," she closed her fingers around it. "I'm taking him back to my office and putting him in his new home. Coming?"

Shep shook his head. "No, I have to get this brain back in stasis." Which wouldn't take that long at all, but he really didn't want to go with her right now. If it died, he didn't want to be there to see it, so he decided to wait that period of uncertainty out. "But I'll catch up later."

She understood. "Suit yourself." With a grin and a quick thank-you kiss to his cheek, she turned and hurried from the lab.

It was like Christmas, something that wasn't celebrated too much anymore, or one of those mini terrariums that you added water to and waited anxiously to see what would grow.

Vey hurried through the security checkpoints and practically ran to her office, her new toy clutched in her hand protectively. The door couldn't separate open fast enough, and finally she was home.

"Engage security lock."

Pandora fizzled into existence on her desktop, bathing the room in dim gold. "Yes, Doctor."

"And restrict all AI presence from this room - including yourself, Pandora."

"That requires–"

"Override Alpha 447-L28"

"Restriction granted." she replied curtly before locking the door and blinking out abruptly. She always got testy about being locked out, and she always got over it.

Using the light given off from the chip in her hand, Vey navigated her way to the bookshelf and retrieved a crystal holopad similar to those installed all over the complex. The only difference was, this one remained as a standalone . . . isolated from all access in or out. It wasn't meant simply as a means of displaying an entity to interact with personally, it was meant to house and initiate one.

She set the object on her desktop, next to Pandora's crystal conduit that was built into the wood. Circular with a silver base, it was a bit larger than all others due in part because it had to perform more tasks than simply creating a hologram. As wide as a pancake, and only a few inches tall, it was a custom job meant for this specific purpose.

She took a seat in her chair, and forced herself to relax. She hadn't the slightest idea where all this excitement was coming from . . . she was expecting failure, wasn't she? So the guy had been smart, and she'd let him keep his memories. Big fucking whoop. She didn't really believe for a second that either of those factors would make much difference, did she?

She didn't know, and before she had time to think about it any further or lose her nerve, she picked up the chip and lined it up with the similar slot to which it had poked out of set in the front of the base. The device inhaled it, something that always made her jump just a bit, and that was that. Vey audibly exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, glad it was out of her hands, both literally and figuratively.

Reaching over, she tapped a few commands on the monitor angled on her desktop and brought up the coding for this one. She wanted quick access to the fail-safe just in case, although the standalone unit protected against any catastrophe that could result from an unstable entity. Really, it was just good business to keep them away from anything whether they went mad or not. One does not allow a toddler drive a vehicle, after all.

Allowing herself one final task before settling down, she reached over the arm of her chair and retrieved a long abandoned cup of coffee sitting on the floor half full. Giving it a smell, and swirling the black contents to check for any foreign objects, she downed the cold liquid in three gulps. Then, she raised herself in the chair to a cross-legged sitting position, and waited in the darkness of her windowless, corner office.

And waited.

And . . . waited.

And finally, after 3 hours, 34 minutes, and 22 seconds, she lowered her head onto crossed arms, and labeled it a dud. Goddamn it all - what a waste of a perfectly good crystal chip, and a perfectly fantastic brain. She sighed loudly, frustrated and oddly disappointed even though she'd expected failure in the first place.

But not this kind of failure. No, she had never expected things to progress perfectly, but she had looked forward to at least a little bit of progress. Maybe a slightly longer life span, or a new behavior. But to be met with absolutely nothing, even with such an outstanding subject, when usually there was at least some kind of sign after about an hour, whether it was a full awakening, or–

The crystal pad warmed, and fiery blue molecules swirled to life in the air a few inches above it. They drifted upwards slowly, and as they rose, more of them flickered to life from the base to follow their predecessors. Two became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen; and they continued multiplying and rising from the darkness, like a string of ice blue pearls being pulled from a sea of oil.

As they increased in quantity, they decreased in size . . . swirling about in a vibrant azure sandstorm of Light before fusing together in a vision that words failed. The result was a blue flame that spewed a waterfall of fat, similar colored globules of lava before sputtering out and forming a fourteen inch tall, blazing exclamation mark.

Vey had seen this behavior only once before with a female subject who had displayed a red infinity symbol for less than an hour, awoken, and promptly died. Her now blue brow furrowed in worry as she stared at the symbol that now took on the pattern of illuminating brightly for a moment before dulling, and then brightening again.

She'd been a little unsure of the blue at first, but now she found herself curious about it. There was always a reason for their choice of displays. She wondered what form this one would take on, and then mentally slapped herself for doing exactly what she'd accused Shep of - getting ahead of herself.

Light shifted in the dark air again, the exclamation mark morphing into a similarly displayed question mark. This was new territory, and Vey really couldn't say what they meant. Surprise, maybe, and then . . . what? Curiosity? A specific inquiry? Maybe just a state of uncertainty, or an indicator that he was gathering and processing information regarding his circumstances?

Well, whatever it was, there was nothing she could do about it. He would hibernate for as long as he needed, and she decided it best to do the same while she had the opportunity. She had no real control over what happened anyway, and a light sleep couldn't hurt. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away from the bright, pulsating blue on her desktop, and slept.