Many hours passed by in that room. The creature had very little to say after his outburst, seemingly silently fuming the rest of the time, slamming down the odd medical instrument to make the whole observation room jump. I although, sat still and quietly, watching him move as I began to feel an appreciation for his craft (as terrifying as it could be). His whole body moved with knowledge - every move was premeditated, even down to the smallest step. He stood like a soldier at times, hands clasped behind his back, and at others like a dancer, feet spaced as he held a vial of medicine just above his head, gazing at the liquid between his fingers. He scared me, and yet I couldn't stop looking, as if I felt like he may pounce if I glanced away. The meticulousness of his nature didn't surprise me at all, watching as he had spouts of rage over medical malpractice only to write every finding down in a book - it wasn't English though. It didn't even look French - perhaps it was his own language? Or, maybe something medieval lost to time? He definitely looked the part. Watching as he continuously swiped through pages and reached into a seemingly endless black Doctor's bag, the urge to ask questions overcame me again.

"What did you find?" It was a simple question, leaning into his likes and poking the small passionate fire beneath the mask, and as desired he glanced up to me, eyes passive and gentle though his body language reading intrigue.

"Your blood pressure is low, too low," He began, folding his arms over his chest as he stood back from his table in thought. "And your heartbeat is… concerning, to say the least."

"Do you have a face?" I don't know why I asked it, or why I asked so abruptly, but before I even realised I had already said it. His body movement paused for a brief moment before he looked at me again, shaking his head.

"That's of no concern for a patient." He retorted in a 'matter-of-fact' way, turning his body from me as he leant back over to return to his studies, but the topic wouldn't leave my mind.

Surely there wasn't a man under there. Guards and researchers always muttered about 049 being a 'thing' and a 'creature', and I knew they weren't referencing his personality in some strange roundabout way. I tried to imagine what he might've looked like underneath it all, but no physical picture came to mind. How old was he? He didn't sound overly old, but I knew SCP's commonly appeared differently to what they really were. 049 sounded to be maybe in his late 30s at most, and yet, the clothing he wore appeared aged with time and his mannerisms felt ancient.

"I thought Plague Doctors only wore masks to ward off disease? Unless you've found out secretly that I'm highly contagious." It was a half-joke, but with a soft chuckle escaping from somewhere just behind the mask, I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew deep down that the mask was likely his real face and that there was nothing underneath - but the idea persisted. A man underneath all that, a face, something I could behold and read the expressions of. It was wishful thinking.

"You're not diseased," It began once more, its voice reaching me as more of a spit - it didn't seem to enjoy the idea that I was disregarding his findings. "You are ill, nothing more. I can get you walking in a month. No, make it two weeks."

I didn't want to get better in two weeks. In two weeks they'd have me back on the work floor, crippled by some monster much bigger than he is just to prove that they could. To prove to me I wasn't special - I knew that. My worried expression must've caught 049's eyes, as he immediately began to move towards me.

"And after that two weeks I intend to keep you as something I can experiment on, so don't fret. There's many medical mysteries I'm sure I could uncover through you."

That didn't make me feel better.

Once more, he took my arm into his hand and inspected the area he had injected the medicine, turning my arm gently in his hand as he checked it over, and seemingly satisfied, he stood back and put both of his hands out towards me. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but it very quickly dawned on me that he wanted me to take his hands and to stand. I stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to have forgotten something such as a chair I was to go to or another operation table he was going to suddenly create out of thin air - but nothing changed, leaving the Doctor staring downwards at me, his normally empathetic eyes shadowed to nothing more than a black void. Due to the rumours, and that endless bag, I knew better than to upset him, so without regard for myself I began moving to do so. I pressed my hands into his, the size difference obvious and nearly cartoony as I pressed my weight into his body which didn't even flinch. I had stood unassisted before. As long as my legs were separated just the right amount and I could hold onto something I was usually fine, but now, with this new medicine fighting its way through my veins and the sheer stress in my body - I knew this would fail as soon as I pressed into him.

My whole form wobbled and shook as great pain ran through my veins like fire, tears welling in my eyes as the hold he had, which had now moved to a more oppressive wrist hold, was surely going to leave bruises. And then, without my body pre-warning me, I buckled under my own weight, my ankles rolling out from under themselves as I began to crash down, only to be grasped with a singular hand around the waist and dragged back to my feet like I was a crash test dummy. Blood running cold and the comfort I had found in this creature draining from me, I rotated my head to see 049 as close as he'd ever been, a gloved hand holding my waist and another holding my hand as he held me on my feet with an incredible strength - so much so that I was nearly being held off the ground. 049 stood strong, unmoving, glaring at me with those grey eyes that glinted as his head turned - he wanted me to stand, and nothing would change his mind. In this moment, he was a predator and the hairs on my skin standing on end knew it before I even did. I considered appealing to the softer side of the creature's mind, the part that viewed me as a sick animal, begging for my tail to be released from the mouse trap with soft squeaks and batting eyes - but beneath that mask only lay a stare of annoyance now. There was no appealing in this moment. He wanted me to walk, he was growing impatient - it figured, when did he ever have alive patients, and for how long? An hour? A minute?

As he slowly pressed me down onto the floor again, I used all my mental strength to steady my legs and to stand tall, likely over-extending my legs in the process. I knew this would hurt me more than I was before, but real doctors did this all the time after surgery, right? They make you stand nearly as soon as you wake up if it's anything to do with your legs or lower body - but not by dragging you to your feet. But with one final grunt of agony, I held my ground as my body was invisibly set alight by seething pain, the creature finally moving out of my space and stepping back to inspect me, hands clasped behind his back.

"Stand up straight." It snapped at me like a Victorian school teacher, and I obviously did so with an audible creak of my bones. He began to move around me, scanning my form and considering all the things he saw, humming to himself as he did so. I wondered if he could see my bones with his eyes? Some sort of X-ray? For the sake of my modesty, I shook the idea from my mind. With a grunt, and with a sudden draw into my form, he observed me much closer as his free arm reached messily backwards behind himself for his Doctor's bag. He kept his eyes fixated on one spot, the original spot I had directed him towards my pain with, and with a glint from over his shoulder, I saw the scalpel.

"Come now, Good Doctor. Aren't we getting hasty now? You can't blame Y/N for still being alive, no need to overreact."

The tannoy system sounded - loudly, interrupting the intense staring contest 049 was having with my hip bone, his eyes moving upwards as he looked towards the observation side room, his eyes meeting with him.

I never liked the site Director much, no-one cared overly much for his presence, but people did well to keep out of his way. He walked too tall, moved too fast and overall didn't smile enough for the things he said which I think were meant to be funny. Tall, middle aged and clad in all black apart from a startling red tie, he was usually seen looming over everyone far in the distance. I'd never seen him close up like this before. He was usually high up in the railings just above the testing centre or staring out from a window that'd have the blinds quickly drawn the moment you caught his eye - truth be told, I didn't know much about him apart from the rumours I'd heard bounced around. Something about him sometimes picking D-Class for his 'special assignments'. All I know is that none of them ever came back, but it gave me a cell just to myself.

"Victor," 049 muttered with what could only be described as malice as he threw the scalpel down with a loud bang as the Director leaned over the workers sitting at the main desk, holding himself up by holding down the talk button with a singular finger, a grin painted on their face in stark contrast to their dead eyes that didn't so much as glint in the light. "Do you mind not interrupting my work?"

"Your work?" The Director retorted with a snort. "All I see is a helpless woman who you were getting too frustrated with. Shame, Doctor. I thought you'd grown up a bit."

"That's not very polite."

"Nor is almost stabbing a woman. Honestly, always the drama." With a disgruntled sound from the Doctor, the Director finally released the button as he echoed my nurse and let the worker he was leaning over sit up as he moved again, pointing his finger decisively in the direction of the pressurised doors, guards moving quickly to stand by.

Attention taken from me, I quickly readjusted my dress, covering my skin as much as I could as the large doors screamed open again, 049's attention completely taken from me as he stared out towards the door. Arms behind their back, stood at a very casual attention, the Director appeared from the steam, tall guards with large guns and even bigger attitudes striding into the containment cell before him, eyeing the Doctor. Watching the two stare at one another, and noting 049's balled fists, it felt like I was watching a standoff in an old Western.

The tension in the room was palpable as the Director and 049 locked eyes, neither willing to back down or even move a singular muscle. It was clear that their history went deeper than I could fathom, and I was caught in the crossfire of their power struggle.

Finally, the Director broke the silence with a snap of his fingers and a smug grin, waving off the guards on either side of him without a care in the world. I considered his actions carefully, watching on from my 'birds eye' view with both confusion and worry. It was clear to anyone, even me who hadn't known the Doctor for long, that he was becoming agitated, and myself as well as the Foundation staff nervously leaned up against the viewing room window knew what happened when he was… upset. And yet, the Director stood unaccompanied before what I thought was one of the deadliest SCPs. Or, perhaps I had been misled?

"What's the matter, Doctor? Feeling a bit territorial, are we? I just thought I'd check on the well-being of our guest. After all, we don't want to give the Foundation a bad name, do we?" The Director, who from his nametag and 049's spit of a name I could now properly call 'Victor Reese', almost purred at the Doctor in his confidence, taking a large stride towards his captive as his smile grew strained. Victor's eyes still continued to have little expression in them, the dusty red shade to his eyes all the stranger as his smile read fake. 049's gloved hands clenched into fists, his posture rigid as he stood up straighter as if trying to prove something.

"This is my patient," 049 hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "I won't have her treated like a common specimen." This statement was followed only by Victor chuckling in a condescending tone before taking even more strides into the containment chamber, his eyes surveying the surroundings with an air of pomp and circumstance. I continued to stand, not forgetting the Doctor's orders (and too scared to disregard them) as Victor looked me up and down. It was only now that I was seeing him up close that I realised how young he really was. He was middle aged for sure, but definitely younger than I thought he'd appear. Most higher ups, and I mean higher higher ups that I've seen are typically hitting 70, sometimes 80 if they're particularly influential. There was no denying he was good looking too. I wonder what landed him running a place like this - maybe it was passed down early?

"You've always been a bit too attached to your subjects, Doctor. It's one of your more endearing qualities." As the Director reached me, he studied me closely as he stopped moving, clasping his hands behind his back as his eyes washed over my body. He surveyed my hair, my scratches, scrapes and my outfit all in the matter of seconds as his eyes moved rapidly. The Director's unsettling gaze made me squirm, my unease growing with each passing moment as 049 stood statically still just behind him, keeping his eyes firmly on the intruder. I watched as the Director continued to taunt 049 by invading my personal space, and it was clear that he was enjoying getting under the Plague Doctor's skin, told only by the smirk still apparent on his lips - but the situation was growing increasingly tense, and I had no desire to be caught in the middle of their power struggle.

"Tell me, my dear, what did our Good Doctor say to you? What secrets did he reveal? You can trust me, you know. I'm here to ensure everything runs smoothly." Victor Reese leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a hushed tone as his faint cologne wrapped around me like a scarf. In this light, more overhead, blinding and with the tilt of his head towards mine, the dusty red-ish tone to his eyes lit up a much more vibrant crimson - it no longer appeared to be the result of one too many chemicals in the eyes, but instead something more supernatural. Surely, if he was indeed some superhuman Director he would wear sunglasses to hide the fact, or perhaps he was just confident enough that he didn't care? No, that couldn't be true - he'd be in a cell too if that was the case. My heart raced at his proximity, and even more at his question - it was as if he was hoping, no, betting on the fact that 049 had revealed some grand secret to me, and I could only shake my head in response as I took a much needed breath. I hadn't realised until now I was holding it.

"I..." I stammered as I quickly got my story straight, carefully eyeing the tools 049 had lain out beforehand and had used. "He asked about my condition, and...he touched me, and I did not die. He then-"

"So you're not some freak 049-2 then? The staff wasn't lying?"

"No, sir."

Victor's eyes flickered with curiosity as he finally pulled himself out of my space and looked over his shoulder to the Doctor, who continued to stand unmoving. My anxiety deepened as I felt caught between two tides, one salt and one fresh, crashing against each other with little worry about what was between. The guards stationed just outside watched the exchange too, seemingly captivated in the same anxiety thread that had woven itself around me, their fingers twitching near their weapons to intervene if necessary.

"Not dead, you say? How intriguing. The Good Doctor is known for his unorthodox methods anyway - it seems he might have taken a liking to you," Victor straightened up, his face still facing the Doctor as his body slowly followed suit, standing calmly at attention with his hands behind his back once more. "Well, my dear, I'll leave you to your examination. Do cooperate with the Good Doctor, won't you? He has a way of becoming... irritable when things don't go as he expects."

With a final nod to the Doctor, and an over the shoulder grin at me, he turned and strode confidently towards the exit, leaving me feeling relieved and yet anxious beyond belief. As the heavy containment doors closed behind him, I turned my attention back to 049, who had been silently observing the entire exchange. He was seething, his gloved hands trembling with barely suppressed anger. The tension in the room had shifted, and it was clear that something had been set in motion that went beyond my understanding. I didn't care to understand right now, but I knew for a fact that the Director had seemingly stopped the injury I was about to sustain due to his frustrations - but it was only now that I realised I'd been standing this whole time. Usually, anxiety would make my pain worse and standing up was near impossible, but here I was, I was doing it. A part of me wanted to tell the Doctor and show him that I was doing his bidding as best I could, but his body was still turned towards the door with rigid shoulders - this wouldn't cause a breach, would it?

Finally, after what felt like hours, the Doctor turned back around to face me as his trembling fist finally came to a halt and I could see his body returning to a more relaxed state. I didn't dare question what I had seen, but my conflicted emotions towards this creature began to swirl once more as he inspected me from a distance. 'I won't have her treated like a common specimen', he said. He said it with heart behind it, with rage and frustration at his trials for being toyed with, that I was being toyed with. But, did it really come from a place of care, or a place of the 'Cure'? I want to believe that more than anything that the Doctor will truly help me, but with every snap, every shout, every rough handling I grow more anxious - this obsession, this treatment, will I live to regret not dying all those years ago?

"You're standing all on your own," The static-y voice of 049 cut through the chamber's silence like a knife as he once more silently moved towards me with his usual unsettling haste, taking my arm with the implant into his hands and running his leathery fingers up and down my skin. "The treatment worked, for now. But, your hip, we must remove it and replace it with something new. Something strong, something… titanium."

Surgery.

"Dr. Frederik!" Still firmly holding my arm he turned to the viewing room, calling out for the observing Doctor who had been here since he began studying me. The grasp on my arm was noted not only by me, but by staff behind the glass who began taking notes and even snapping photos - the feeling of being a mouse in a trap creeped up my back again until he slowly began what could only be described as caressing my skin with his thumb. With my better judgement I could only assume he was likely feeling for veins or even taking my pulse in some strange roundabout way - but what if he wasn't? Why would he…? "I want Y/N prepped for surgery tomorrow morning - and I want this to be her final night away from my cell until she is well again."

"Doctor 049," The tannoy of the cell boomed loud as usual, Dr. Frederik's voice twisted for a moment as the audio system booted. "A surgery of this scale is most unbecoming of your skill set. Have you ever even performed a modern replacement, Doctor?"

"Of course not. But, I would like to fix her, if you would please. All I will need is the equipment and a handbook - I can learn much faster than any of your staff, I assure you."

"No."

It was like a window had shattered. Usually, Dr. Frederik was somewhat privy to 049's suggestions and offers, but it was like a shutter had come down on him - perhaps the Director had said something? As much as I was thankful that they weren't going to let 049 perform a surgery on me, I could feel his body tremble ever so slightly, like an overwhelming anxiety had overtaken him. His mask glanced towards me, surveying my face and emotions which I was beginning to struggle to hide before he looked towards the glass wall once more.

"Dr. Frederik, I am a well trained Doctor, I can save her-"

"I think this has gone on long enough, SCP-049. The D-Class is walking, which is what you wanted. We're ordering her removal now so you can continue to work on the projects we assigned you."

As the tannoy cut out, the large doors opened for the third time today with a gust of steam, armed guards and scientists standing expectantly at the doorway, fingers on triggers and syringes neatly hidden in breast pockets. With memories of past tortures hidden as medical trials the end of large guns hitting my head, I without thinking tried to move towards the doorway, but I was quickly yanked backwards towards the Doctor who not only held me closer, but wrapped both of his arms around my chest, gripping my wrists to my chest as he held me. His strength was immense and his hold nearly suffocated as he held me to him. On my back I could feel him shuddering, his breath shaky in my ear as the mask curved over my shoulder. I knew I could very easily still be shot in this situation, I doubted a bullet would hurt the Doctor as it would me, so it would be a very simple solution if the Foundation really were done with his little 'side project'.

"You have to let me go, they're going to shoot me." Never before had I spoken so informally to the Doctor, my voice trembling as I saw the guards move to a more defensive stance towards me. From peering over my shoulder and cranking my head as far as it could go, I watched as 049's eyes moved rapidly within the depths of his mask, clearly considering his options as he held me like a vice. He knew as well as I that he would never see me again if he let me go and that I'd likely be killed because I'd seen 'too much'. And yet, he did not let go.

"I want Y/N prepped for surgery tomorrow morning," 049 repeated as he still spoke in his 'calm' tone of voice. "and I want this to be her final night away from my cell until she is well again."

"That's enough of this. Get her." Frederik ordered as he ignored 049's request, the Doctor taking hasty steps back from the doorway as he pulled me away from the slowly advancing guards. Something was off about this, he and I both knew I could tell. The way Frederik had become too decisive all of a sudden, so sure, no longer giving 049 fake smiles and appealing to his more caring nature - and as I realised it, I felt the Doctor halt as he slowly moved the grip on my wrist to over my nose and mouth. I panicked for a moment thinking he had finally decided to put an end to it all, before he merely held his hand there keeping my airways barred from the outside world.

"Dr. Frederik, are you feeling alright?"

The whole room paused. This phrase, this one small phrase, caused the armed guards to halt in their tracks and for Dr. Frederik's more gritty expression to turn helpless in a matter of moments. Looks were exchanged around the room as 049 stared towards Frederik, his defensive guard over me only growing tighter as his anxiety drew larger. It had to be this 'Pestilence' thing. I still didn't know anything about it, but the mere insinuation of it caused such a rift told me one thing - it wasn't desirable, and seemingly not curable. When I first arrived in this chamber and everyone thought the Doctor was going to turn me, they all mentioned that he would 'kill' me for having 'it'. 049 was threatening this man, and the threat wasn't brushed aside. The group immediately withdrew as the doors stayed open to deliberate, but before long a new scientist walked in, a woman, one I did not recognise. I had no doubt that Dr. Frederik was likely just removed from this sector, maybe even the building, but 049 still wouldn't let me, or my sinuses, go.

"We're going to prep Y/N for surgery overnight in the staff medical wing. She'll be in good hands, Good Doctor. We've even brought a wheelchair for her, see?" The woman spoke in a clear and confident tone as a younger male nurse came forth in scrubs, pushing an empty wheelchair to the entrance of his chamber. But still, he did not budge as the fear of not only almost being shot but also having an SCP perform surgery on me washed over me. I considered my actions carefully. I had no doubt that if he could he would hold me like this all night, or maybe never let me leave again in fear of me being taken - I did not want to cause him any more distress or hurt him for that matter. As much as I feared him, as much as he had almost hurt me prior, perhaps now he was something akin to… a friend? I knew what he was capable of, and I was unsure if I could ever sway his decision on his very sure actions, but I could try.

"I'll need a good night's sleep for such a big surgery. I should get going, Doctor."

"That man was sick."

"He's gone for now, look - these two nurses are going to take good care of me, I promise.

"You promise?" His voice sounded both like he was concerned, and like he was pleading. He too was eyeing up the two medical staff who nodded enthusiastically at my words in the least fakest least fearful way they could muster. As I replied with a soft 'Yes', pressing my free hand against the mask's beak gently he finally released me from his grasp, nearly immediately going back to his idle state, hands firmly clasped behind his back as he took a large step out of my way. Did he feel… embarrassed, maybe? Maybe ashamed? Either way, I knew that right now he was in an agitated state and that his care for me could very quickly turn dark, so with a nod to the man with the wheelchair, it was brought to me speedily, quickly thrust beneath my legs as I crumpled down into it. I wanted to give 049 some words of wisdom, some words of certainty, but my time was cut short as I was immediately removed from the cell faster than ever before as the large doors nearly caught both my and the Nurse in their teeth.

I was out, we were separated again. As my wheelchair got turned and I was moved in the direction of the staff medical bay, the nurse pushing me leaned down to tell me something, but my attention was only on the Director, who was standing just outside of the cell leaning against the wall, waving at me.