I

o0o0o0o

Reginald had been quiet over the weekend, and Rhoda was relieved to see him amble into the research lab late Monday morning. She greeted him warmly, noting that there was something different about him. What it was… she was not quite sure. Maybe it was just the lighting, one of the overhead lights had been replaced over the weekend after stuttering and shorting out last week. But she could almost swear his feathers had taken on a hint of green.

He seemed suffused with renewed purpose as he moved around, examining his plants and taking notes before sitting down, and placing himself in the sunlight that poured in from the window. He stayed there as he looked over his notes and transcribed some of them into his laptop. She wondered if he was also working on his resume, and Rhoda continued her work, enjoying the absence of Drs. Gary and Larson, who often showed up very late on Mondays. Rhoda finished what she was doing and ventured to approach her remaining colleague.

"Are you all right? I was worried about you after what happened on Friday," she asked. standing in front of his table. He looked up at her.

"I'm good. I got your e-mail, but not until much later. I spent a lot of time outside, walking and thinking..." He trailed off for a moment before focusing on her. "I truly appreciate your concern. I hope you had a better weekend than I, at least," he added.

She shrugged. "As well as I can be under the circumstances." She wondered how she should approach the delicate subject. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. "Have you given any thoughts to the future?" she asked.

His smile was cryptic. "I'm almost there. They will see. Things will be all right."

"Well… I'm glad to know."

"What about you?" he asked.

"Well, my contract is up in a few months and I've been considering not applying for a new grant here. We both deserve better." He tilted his head, and she blinked as she saw purple fuzz on what was supposed to be his near-bald scalp. She blinked again. No, she wasn't seeing things. And there was no denying the green hue slowly making itself apparent against his pale feathers.

What on earth was happening to Reginald? Was he even aware of it? She watched as he took a long gulp from a bottle of water.

"I'll toast to that," he said, lifting the bottle before taking another swig and setting the bottle aside. "In all seriousness, I do not doubt that Dr. Vanquack will supply a glowing recommendation." He seemed to want to say something more. She tried to think of the most tactful way of pointing out what was happening to him.

"Reginald… I only ask this of concern for you, but are you certain you're all right?" she asked. She took a step back when the question of 'Is this contagious?' popped up in her mind.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently before looking down at his hands. And then he stared at them. Quickly, he rose to his feet.

It was at that moment that Drs. Gary and Larson returned from their lunch, and they stared at Reginald for a couple of moments before breaking out into jeering and laughter.

"Reggie the veggie! Reggie the veggie!" they chanted as they grabbed him, shoving him between themselves before the smaller man managed to escape his tormentors.

"Leave him alone! He's having a medical emergency!" Rhoda yelled. "You want to get in trouble for that?"

Good sense prevailing for once, the pair did not advance upon Reginald as he frantically gathered his laptop and notebook before rushing out of the room.

o0o0o0o

After a quite enjoyable weekend, Bushroot surmised that the experiment had worked. His body had just needed time to let the serum do its work. A sunny Sunday confirmed that, and he'd been driven by a fresh zeal to refine the serum and enjoy the benefits that it'd already done for him. He'd taken a walk in the park, enjoying the afternoon amidst the plants and trees, stretching his legs out as he felt the sun on his scalp. But unlike so many others, he barely paid attention to his appearance, otherwise, he might have thought twice about reporting to work Monday morning. He'd prepared for work in his usual routine, barely acknowledging his reflection as he brushed his teeth with half-lidded eyes staring blankly at the face he'd seen countless times in the bathroom mirror.

The green feathers and purple fuzz were an unexpected change, though. But when he thought about it logically, it made sense. His body was evolving to maximize its sun absorption potential, and that meant adapting the skin to this new task. He would stand out like a sore thumb in public, though. For sure, others would see this as a failed experiment – he doubted people would be too interested in something that turned their skin and feathers green and their hair some weird color.

The university, not wanting a scandal, chose to handle the affair quietly as far as he could see. The Dean didn't want him around, anyway, and had quickly accepted his leave of absence, though both of them knew he would not be coming back. It would give him more time for his work, anyway.

His body continued to change, and Reginald would be lying to himself if he did not fear that he had gone too far, and would eventually metamorphose into a full-on plant, dumb and unmoving. When he was not absorbing sunlight, he was hard at work on more experiments and tests. However, the changes slowed to an apparent stop, and Reginald had come to notice that he could now control plants. The ones nearby responded to his will, and he had experimented with it just today, using his ability to chase off a dog that was lifting its leg to a tree, and a teenager that had tossed his litter to the side of the park trail.

His serum had gone far beyond what he'd expected, or anticipated of it. But that was often the nature of scientific experiments. Many compounds had been created for one use only to end up being popularized for another. Post-It notes were the result of research into a stronger adhesive for the aerospace industry, and had initially been considered a failure due to its weakness before enterprising minds figured out an everyday, practical use for the mild adhesive.

But this went beyond a damn Post-It note. And something he'd been trying to design for the use of the populace, turned out to be something far more suited for one person. He had failed in his original goal, but he'd accomplished something unprecedented.

o0o0o0o

Rhoda took what remained of Reginald's plants in the lab, not wanting to simply throw them out even though his notes were gone. To prevent Gary or Larson from messing around with them, she played upon their not-so-subtle desire for her, expressing concern for the poor, abandoned plants and how she was certain she could make use of them because goodness, what a shame it would be to let the plants go to waste when Dean Tightbill had talked about the budget!

It felt weird and tacky doing it, but perhaps there was something to the strategies of the women her conservative mother had deemed 'loose'. It wasn't as if she ever intended to follow through with that! She had already reached out to a couple of friends, including Sara Bellum, who was now a scientist who worked for the government if she remembered correctly. Perhaps her food research could be used by the army, and it would end up benefiting civilians as well.

But Reginald… poor Reginald. She couldn't get the last memory of him out of her head. She'd e-mailed him, and called him. She'd even looked up his address and went to check on him, but he was either not home or answering. There was no record of him in any local hospital – though was there even anyone who could cure whatever was happening to Reginald?

She felt her eyebrows furrow in irritation as she heard Gary and Larson's banter as she packed up for the day. She barely heard what they said as they noticed her leaving.

"Hey, we could get some dinner tonight," one of them – she didn't care who – said as she quickly made her way past them to the door.

"I have plans," she replied in a quick but controlled tone, masking the disgust in her voice. "Good night, doctors."

One by one, she took Reginald's plants to her apartment. It was not big, but one advantage it had was west-facing windows, so her plants could at least have some light. She gently touched the leaves of one of the plants, checking it as she watered it. She'd already submitted applications and papers to several other places and was counting down the days until the semester ended. She would not miss the plant biology class that she taught as part of her existing contract. There was a handful of students genuinely interested in the subject, but many of them were freshmen or sophomores only taking the class to fill a gen-ed requirement. She'd had to deal with plagiarism, smart-mouthed students, or those who had excuses for constant tardiness and the like.

She looked through the window, seeing the sidewalk and some of the small community green that the residents of her apartment building shared. It was mostly trampled down, stomped to dirt from children playing games, or gatherings around the grill, and the like. There was a bit of grass in the corners, but that was about it as far as 'green' could be used to identify the open space. It could get loud and noisy, especially on holidays. One day, she hoped that she could buy a nice house out in the woods, for a quiet sanctuary of research and study. It was funny to imagine herself as one of these recluse scientists, but with what she had to deal with now, the idea did have its appeal.

Her hand found the leaves of one of the plants, and she ran her fingers along its glossy surface, appreciating its pliant coolness. She would be looking forward to moving onto a new phase in life, but she couldn't help but think of Reginald. There were so many questions to ask him. Would she ever see him again? It didn't seem so.

"Oh, Reginald. I hope you're all right," she said with a sigh before she tended to the rest of her plants.

o0o0o0o

What greeted her one morning when she was coming into work was police officers milling about, and the greenhouse and botany lab marked off with police tape.

After verifying her credentials, a police officer led her beyond the line, and her hands shook with apprehension at what she was going to see.

In the university greenhouse, there were two large bushes side by side among other plants. She was not quite sure what was supposed to be the matter before she took a closer look, the police officer hovering near her as he asked her questions about Drs. Gary and Larson, and it took a couple of moments for it to sink in. Amidst the leaves of these mysterious bushes… a flash of blue, white, or gray, but all of it was streaked with blood.

Why was there blood? What had happened to Drs. Gary and Larson? Her mind attempted to put pieces of the puzzle together. Immediately, she backed away, not wanting to give these plants the chance to do to her what had been done to her coworkers. If that was even possible, but she wasn't taking any chances.

A botany student had come in here to finish up their project and come across this gruesome scene. Much as she had disliked the pair, their death appeared to have been protracted, and she couldn't imagine dying like that. As there was a lull in questioning, she looked back at the corpses as the officers put up more tape. Was this some scientific experiment gone awry? What had Gary and Larson been trying to accomplish?

She blinked as she heard Reginald Bushroot's name being mentioned, and recognized the voice of Dean Tightbill.

"He had always felt threatened by the successes of Drs. Gary and Larson, and we had that unpleasant altercation with him last month… and then he disappeared."

Rhoda started shaking her head, and the officer turned to look at her.

"It couldn't have been him. I worked with him for several years, and he did not have a cruel bone in his body," she said emphatically. "I don't know what happened, but it couldn't have been him. It simply couldn't have been." She repeated that in her head like a mantra as she processed the fact that her coworkers were well and truly gone and not only that, but their death had been horrible. She shuddered as she gave the morbid sight one last glance.

o0o0o0o

Perhaps Gary and Larson might still have been alive if they'd listened to him. Bushroot hadn't set out to murder them – he only wanted to teach them a lesson. But as soon as he revealed himself to them, they unleashed a barrage of verbal abuse that sent him over the edge. The many months of resentment and anger at having to deal with these two morons came to a head, and the nearby plants responded to his rage.

If nothing else, it taught him that his emotions could fuel his power if he channeled it properly. At least he'd started with the pair instead of the Dean. He looked around him in satisfaction. As he'd learned to master his powers, he'd created quite a comfortable lair for himself, and even a guard dog, he mused with amusement as he watched the mutated Venus flytrap bound around in front of him.

One part of his plan was missing, but only because despite what was happening to him, he'd been wise enough to wait. He remembered all too well the look of worry and distress on her face in the last few moments before he'd run away from the school, and presumably, out of her life.

Oh, there had been times when he'd been sorely tempted to call for her or to go to her. But how would she react to him? Even now, that thought gave him pause. But he had to stop being afraid. He'd been silent for too long, living off her small kindnesses to him. Even now, she defended him. She'd taken his plants to keep Gary and Larson from messing with them. She'd defended him when the police and the dean discussed suspects.

He did feel bad that she was defending him when he'd done the deed. At the same time, it warmed his heart. It seemed that she did care for him, in some way. How could his love for her not grow, with the knowledge like sunlight and fresh water on a plant that had been in the darkness for too long.

He looked in the mirror, smoothing back the purple petals that had effectively reversed his baldness. That had taken some time getting used to, but now he quite liked the look. He straightened his collar, flexing his shoulders under the black formal jacket he wore. It'd be pretty much impossible for her to not see all the changes he'd been through, but hopefully, the blow would be softened with a smart outfit.

o0o0o0o

His message had come out of the blue. At first, she wondered if it was some cruel prank, or perhaps some convoluted scheme by the police because she'd been one of very few people who'd defended Reginald during the investigation.

They'd only ever corresponded through the university-assigned emails, so when she got a message from a previously unknown recipient, of course, she was on alert. The username attached to the e-mail was BeetsBeets. She was ready to dismiss it as spam without even reading it, but a gut feeling nagged at her, and she opened it. And she was glad she did but could understand his subterfuge. His first message was somewhat vague.

It took several exchanges for her to be certain it was him. Since the first message, she'd anxiously checked her inbox with increasing excitement and anxiety. He was alive. He was okay. He would not say much else, but he did apologize for making her worry. He would explain things better in person. It did cross her mind to ask about Gary and Larson, but every time it popped into her mind, she came up with some excuse. Besides, Darkwing Duck was on the case, so she shouldn't worry about that, right?

It was a bit weird how she'd processed their deaths. She didn't mourn them, not really. She wasn't glad about it, either. Just because someone was a jerk didn't mean they deserved to die. The most horrifying thing was how they'd died. Branches and roots burrowing through one's system, draining various resources from one's body as they grew thicker and larger, tearing the body apart…

She shuddered at that before she pulled into the parking lot, seeing the wide swath of trees that circled most of the lot.

If anyone else had asked this of her, she'd have insisted on a much more public place, but this was Reginald, and considering how he looked the last time she saw him, she could only imagine he didn't want to be seen by others. She moved past the information kiosk and onto the trail, heart pounding with anticipation and worry. She really hoped Reginald was okay, and whatever had happened to him could be fixed.

The woods were quiet, and the crunch of leaves or twigs underfoot seemed to echo as she looked up, seeing light filtering in between the leaves. One could see the forest from the city, but out here, the trees obscured the view of the city and its lights. She wondered if she should call out for him. Every few minutes, she would look around to see if she could see anyone in the trees. As she made a turn, she gasped softly as she almost bumped into someone.

She blinked at him, and despite the drastic changes to his appearance, she recognized him. She registered bits and pieces of him – vibrant purple hair, emerald-hued skin, a fine jacket instead of a lab coat – before she looked into his eyes, his name coming from her in a quiet breath. It was him, but part of her brain did not want to believe it. It was just so outlandish, like some science fiction movie!

"Rhoda." His voice was familiar, but with an undertone she could not identify. She had been wondering all the while if he was all right, and she wasn't sure how she might answer that question. His hair and skin were the wrong color, but here he was, dressed nicely and looking… robust?

There were so many questions, she was not sure what to ask first. She opened her mouth, looking at him. He took another step closer, and she had a better view of his legs.

"… what happened?" she finally asked, working down the lump in her throat. He gave out a small laugh before looking down at himself.

"My research turned up unexpected results," he explained.

Yeah, no shit, Rhoda thought. She remembered the explanation he had given her when they were introduced to one another and discussing their research. People already needed sunlight, albeit to a much lesser extent than plants. Vitamin D was produced by spending time in the sun, so why not other vitamins the body needs? Imagine how much more efficient the body could be, Reginald had said, as he'd explained his idea to her back then. It was a pretty solid hypothesis to her, and if Reginald could make it work…

"Are you okay?' she asked. It seemed like a silly question to ask, but his appearance was drastically altered, and she wondered how that might have affected his brain chemistry. Unbidden, her thoughts flitted to Gary and Larson, and she felt her heart sink to her stomach.

"Better than okay! I wanted to contact you before, but there was so much going on…" He sighed. "Will you come with me?"

She tilted her head, pondering her options. If she didn't know better, she could swear that the trees were closing in. But that wasn't possible, was it?

"I know I've changed. But I would never hurt you, Rhoda. You've known me for the last few years." He held out his hand. She looked at it before looking at his face. Her hand slid into his, and she noted the cool feel of his leafy skin. "Let's take a walk and enjoy ourselves, hmm?"

It was a trek through the woods on no discernible path before they came to a small clearing where a newly constructed greenhouse sat, mostly hidden under a canopy of trees. The surroundings looked lush, with thick vegetation and foliage to help keep the location private.

The inside of the building was a botanist's dream. She saw various equipment and plants, and in one corner, some electronic equipment and computers. Everything looked new.

"Welcome to my lab… though perhaps you could also call it a lair?" Bushroot gave out a small laugh. "So, what do you think?"

"It's nice," Rhoda replied honestly. "I think the college would be envious of this." An unwelcome question popped in her head. Where did he get the money to pay for all of this? "So… what exactly are your plans in the long run?"

"There are so many things I can do. What happened to me showed me that I need to take a new approach to my work." He looked out at the plants for several moments before turning his attention back to her. "And that applies to my life, as well."

She took a step back, wondering if she could find her way back to the trail if she launched herself in one direction, she was pretty sure she had her bearings as Bushroot hadn't meandered around to confuse her path here.

What happened to Gary and Larson? How did you obtain all this high-end equipment? What are you going to do to me? Instinctively, she put her hands in front of her.

"Please."

"Please, what?" Bushroot asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded. He stared at her for a moment.

"To have you here with me," he replied calmly as he took a step toward her. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I'd never harm you, I swear."

She stared at him, studied him, looking for the man she knew. He was there, but that wasn't the only thing making up this person. Plant-person?

"I… I feel faint." Her knees felt weak, and she struggled to stay up for a couple of moments before sliding to the ground. He was immediately at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he crouched in front of her. He lifted her chin, asking her questions such as if she was seeing double. She took a moment of comfort in this line of questioning, but it didn't change the reality. "Can I have some water, please?" She pulled her chin from his hand, hoping she hadn't done that too quickly.

Within several moments a glass of water was offered, its rim hovering centimeters below her lips. She let him tilt the container, taking several long gulps. The distraction helped her to assess the situation. He wasn't yelling at her or acting angry about this. He was being so kind and solicitous right now like the Reginald she knew.

"I realize my appearance is a shock, but I didn't think I would make a beautiful woman swoon," he said with a dry chuckle.

She looked up at him. "It is quite a shock. But I am still glad to see you. You know I worried about you…" And I am still worried. "Can I sit down somewhere?"

She was led to something that looked like a large pile of moss that had been molded roughly into the shape of an armchair. It had a pleasant give to it but was firm enough, and she let out a small sigh as she leaned her head back, feeling the dizziness ebb away as she finished her water. Barking met her ears, and she blinked as something that could only be described as a cross between a dog and a Venus flytrap was introduced to her.

Rhoda was glad she was sitting down and prayed that Reginald did not see the fresh horror that flashed across her expression. He talked to the creature much as if it was a dog, introducing it to her as 'Spike'. She could tell he was trying to put her at ease, but it was not having the effect he intended, although she would have loved it if his attempts worked. She looked around the space again, seeing the things Reginald had gotten.

"How did you get all this? You know as well as I do that our jobs did not pay that well," she said, trying to broach the subject lightly.

"I stole it," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh." She'd heard there was a crime wave somewhere on the news, but she hadn't paid much attention to it. Her response to his confession should have been automatic. She was supposed to give him a lecture about how wrong stealing was, etc etc. It was hard to imagine mild-mannered Reginald as a petty thief let alone one that had a haul worth millions if not billions of dollars. With what the college paid, it would have taken many lifetimes to earn the money needed to pay for all this equipment legitimately. And who would hire someone who looked like Reginald did now? Much as she hated to admit it, she felt some sympathy for him. What might she have done if she were in his position?

"What about…" She hesitated, but he'd been honest with a difficult question… might as well throw another one at him. "Gary and Larson?"

He paused as he looked at her, tugging at his tie. She let out a dismayed moan.

"It was a freak accident, in all senses of the word. I can at least say that it was not my intention to seriously harm, let alone kill them. But they…" He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Those fools," he barked out harshly. He took a deep breath, smoothing the front of his shirt and jacket. "I prefer to not dwell on that, especially now that I have you here."

She wondered what Gary and Larson had done. She had to admit, after having shared a workspace with them for a couple of years, it didn't take much to imagine what they could have said or done to Reginald, especially after his transformation.

The best thing she could do was stay calm and keep her anxiety under control. She knew she should call the police. She had her phone inside her jacket. Would there be reception out here? What would happen if the police did show up? They were surrounded by trees, and if Reginald had control over trees as well… Oh, crap.

He'd had time to hide and prepare, as this lair so illustrated.

"Were you going to leave the school at the end of the semester?" he inquired. She confirmed with a nod, pressing into the moss with her palms and fingers, taking comfort in the springy texture. A few prospects looked promising, especially now with Gary and Larson's deaths promising to be big news around campus for a good while yet. The university certainly didn't need the bad press. Few people would want to work in a greenhouse that was the scene of a grisly and mysterious death.

"I knew that I needed to get out of there," Rhoda added as she closed her eyes. She might ask Reginald about his prospects, but it looks like he'd done pretty well for himself, however the means. She opened her eyes when she felt his hand on her own, and she looked up at him. Despite all that he'd revealed to her, he was still quite a handsome sight with a black jacket and red silk shirt that set off the green of his skin.

"You were not appreciated there. Your intelligence, your hard work, your kindness…" He patted her hand as he looked down at her.

She found herself blushing at that and started to shake her head. He placed his hand under her chin, stopping this movement. "Don't undersell yourself. You deserve better."

"I know I deserve better," she retorted gently. "So do you." She pondered her next course of action. There was no easy answer to the question of how the heck do you get away from an amorous plant-duck who can kill you with his powers if you piss him off enough?

"After what happened with me, that's exactly what I decided to do." He gestured around them. "I am also a better version of myself."

In certain physical aspects, she had to agree. The more she saw of him, the more used she was to the changes that had affected him so profoundly. She had scientific questions to ask about these changes, because as a fellow scientist, how could she not be curious? How had he managed to combine plant and duck DNA?

"Have the changes been that beneficial?" she asked neutrally.

"It was confusing at first, I will admit. But things leveled out and my state is stable," he replied confidently. "I believe the effects were so drastic because I used my DNA in the experiment. Of course, that means that this effect can not be mass-produced as far as I know. Which is a good thing, I suppose. It's given me some thought about some hypotheses I held." He stroked his chin thoughtfully before focusing on her again.

"Now that you're here, I could obtain some DNA from you." She saw the shine of enthusiasm in his eyes that she'd seen before when he was discussing a new experiment or trial. She froze as the implications sunk in.

"You're not going to try to turn me into a…" What was even the word for this? She gestured at him with some bewilderment. His brows furrowed, and she wondered if she should try to run. She looked into his eyes, her fingers digging into the moss. It was a bit hard to read his expression with his skin having turned dark green, but it seemed that her words had saddened him. He took a step back, his face settling into a pensive expression.

"I really would prefer your consent for that," he said after a moment's silence. "There's no need to be so afraid of me."

We'll see about that, Rhoda told herself. Reginald was in there, as she knew, but so was Bushroot, a person who was willing to break the law, and who was responsible for the deaths of at least two people. Who knew how much self-control Bushroot operated with, or what he would be capable of in the future. Bushroot had only been around for a short while, and he'd accomplished much already.

"Then show that to me," Rhoda challenged in a sweet, gentle voice. She rose from the chair, standing before him so there was a gap between their bodies, but they could still reach out to touch one another. "I know you've been through a lot. I can see that. You look so different, it's almost hard to believe you're Reginald."

She lifted a hand as if to reach out to him before stopping herself. "I'm not going to scream and run away. But this is uncharted territory."

He reached for her hand, wrapping it in both of his own.