Things might be looking up for Doctors West and Phillips, and the Cain family, but we all know not for long.

Chapter Twelve

Fresh Starts

Herbert stayed by in Boston while Heather went back home. It was for the best because while he'd been out, nobody recognized him, but Francesca suggested he needed contacts while he was out and about. Herbert objected because he very much preferred his glasses, but the stubborn woman insisted for his own safety. He had an appointment scheduled for Wednesday, so she drove him since she was mostly a stay-at-home mother now, but still did her work at home and traveled out of the country on rare occasions. By the time he exited, he was blinking to get used to those rubbery things in his eyes. How can people live with these things? But by the time he adjusted, he felt so light and indescribable.

Like a new man.

He'd gotten a job as the old cemetery's mortician, still using the name of Frances Dexter after learning the last one had died in a house fire five years past – the last mortician had died suddenly of old age, but expected. He'd allowed Herbert to work beside him until his time ran out, pleased he was interested in the business, but then he was suddenly dying in the embalming room, on the third day; heart failure being the perfect and faster way. It did not abandon from his mind that the body had to be fresh in physical appearance besides tissue cells. When he lay there, Herbert had hastily prepared him on the table and set up his nanoplasm device to extract from the brain the life source. He had no donors since the prison, so this one was ready for whenever another opportunity awaited.

He decided then and there, in addition, that he couldn't reveal this to the world as long as he was on the run. They would never understand him or recognize his genius besides the few people who knew, but that didn't stop him from proceeding as he always had – and in perfect secrecy. The cemetery was extremely old, having been discovered and built in 1630 as the very first, the burial ground itself holding the first Pilgrim woman who set foot in the New England colony, as well as a few devout Puritans. Heather would be the one to provide him with the needed ingredients for the re-agent since she had access in a hospital.

And things between him and Heather were starting to take a turn for the better. Their relationship was blossoming into something more, but while the passionate need was burning, they did not go too far to that level. She'd made it clear that the rule was "no sex before marriage", and he respected that. The much younger version of himself would have been just as nervous as she, but this older, wiser Herbert West was ready even though he was the same as he had always been.

~o~

It had been ten days since the prison riot, and it was getting back into place, though Heather had yet to hand in her change of workplace to the new Warden. Handling the prisoners as usual wasn't the same, and she was getting more and more uncomfortable each day that had passed by; she got the majority of her twenty-something inmate-patients left being the same as ever when she tended to them, as well as helped the guards, performing miracles with a couple new doctors on them with surgical skills that hadn't been allowed to be seen; however, with the terrible effect of the riot unlike any other, an exception had to be made, and then the guards were also carted off to Miskatonic General for the remainder of their care.

The new Warden was nothing like Brando had been, but he was also very cool over the prisoners, as a Warden should be, but he treated her much nicer than Brando did. Jacobs had been watching her since he came about last week, but they never made much contact until today. "Dr. Phillips," he said with a smile. He was dressed in a tan suit sans tie, his hair black and gelled back, skin cleanly shaven, his eyes bright blue and merry as ever. "I do hope I didn't catch you at such a bad time."

"Oh, not at all, sir," she answered, smiling back. She looked down at her watch; her next patient was in ten more minutes. "But my next patient is in a few more minutes."

"That means we have some time to kill with a proposition I have for you."

She furrowed her brows. "P-proposition?"

"Heather..." She shivered, though it wasn't meant to scare her; he'd placed his hand on her shoulder by means of assuring her with what he said next. "...you've been extremely good to these men despite their wrongdoings, but I somehow sense that this isn't the place for you after all. I can read a person's body language and facial expressions better than I read a book." She saw no trace of anger or disappointment in his eyes, just understanding. She nodded.

"Yes, sir, you're absolutely right. As much as it pains me, I came here interested in institutional medicine, but after the riot as well as my last boss, I might have a change of heart. I was considering moving to Boston and joining the staff of the general hospital."

Jacobs nodded. "If you want me to, my dear, I can write you a letter of recommendation to them. I know a beautiful, bright young lady like yourself deserves better than a place like this. And a man to take care of you better than these ones here."

He didn't mean it in a perverted sense she remembered from Brando. "I know. Thank you so much, and it was wonderful knowing you in a small amount of time." She turned to leave not long before he called back to her.

"Whatever happened to your...assistant? Mr...Dexter?"

She stiffened, keeping her back to him. "He left. Decided the prison was no good for him, either."

"Because I don't seem to recall seeing any record of him ever being here, Doctor." Her heart stopped in its tracks right then and there. Oh, no, what can I say now?

"He was only new; the records probably hadn't been filed correctly by Warden Brando just yet," she lied smoothly, and he seemed to take that. But how long could the lie last before she got out of here?

~o~

"Dr. Moreland. Dr. Coburn." Her eyes turned to Dan and smiled, the light in her blue eyes brighter than ever despite terrible past events not too long ago. He wondered how she'd fared better than he ever did, but the truth was she was stronger than he could ever have been; it amazed him. "And Dr. Cain."

Leslie left the group and accepted their new member of the team with a hug. "Welcome to the family, Heather. Since between us all, we're on first names. Call me Leslie, or Les like these two do." She winked at Dan who attempted an awkward smile himself, but when it came to Eric, she pursed her lips tightly.

"Please, guys, I just got away from Arkham, the place of bad memories. Now I can start fresh, right?"

"You may, indeed." Moreland reached over and gave her a pinch on the cheek, which made her giggle nervously. Dan, in his mind, didn't like it much because to him, it was for a younger girl. Another week had passed by, and Heather had moved in for now with him and Francesca, most of her things in storage until she and Herbert got a place of their own. "Since you're here, why don't you two and the rest of the family join us both for dinner tomorrow night? At my house?"

Oh, she hasn't been in town that long, and he's already inviting her. Dan laughed and held Heather close to him. "Thanks, Eric; we'll most definitely be there."

"I'm not sure if I might," Coburn said, turning her cool gaze on Eric, whose face suddenly became unreadable. Despite their improved working relationship, Eric and Leslie used to be happily married for three years before she left him because of irreconcilable differences and no children in the union. Lately, Eric had been trying to get her to come back to him, promising they would make it work this time, but she would always shoot him down.

"Aw, come on, Les, just like old times?"

"I said maybe, not yes or no," she returned coolly before turning and walking away, her heels clacking away. Eric watched her go, his body attempting not to quiver with fury at rejection once more. When he lost his temper, he was known to be more volatile than Dan's father had been, but moreso verbally than physically. He tried talking him to calm down.

"Eric, please don't worry. If she comes, she will. You know her."

He sighed and turned to look back at him and Heather. "Yeah, but most of the time, she acts like I don't exist. Acts formal with me. She doesn't know or care that I still love her no matter how hard I try." There was an edge in the way he spoke those words; a hard edge like a knife's blunt tip ready to be sharpened and fixed.

"I was raised that if you and your love ever fall apart, that feeling is still there whether you want to admit it or not," Heather said, though the smile she was trying to make never seemed to reach her face as well as Dan's eyes.

Eric looked down at her. "If only that were true with my case." He then looked down at his watch. "Oh, God, I have to go, but I'll see you guys tomorrow night." He grinned and was off on his way down the hall.

Dan looked down at Heather. He could smell tension radiating off her. "Something's eating you."

"Yeah, the new Warden..." She leaned in to whisper as low as she could. "...asked me about my 'assistant' Herbert pretended to be. I think he knows I'm lying."

Oh, man, that might be possible, but – "Well, you lied smooth and he took it, I think. Now you're far away from there, and you'll be fine here," he assured her, putting his arm around her shoulder and taking them both away.

The cemetery Herbert works is the King's Chapel Burying Ground in Boston, Massachusetts (and a real cemetery in the same town). Everything mentioned about it is the same said about the actual burial ground itself.

Dr. Moreland is pretty interesting, but at the same time, he's a tough character. One of the toughest I've ever done.