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Beta(s) :

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It took days for Doctor Bitch, he masked caretaker, to give her the mirror she'd asked for. Days of bitching, cussing, griping, and nonstop wheedling. Doctor Bitch had only ever answered with quoted protocols and canned doctor-speak, reasons she couldn't have it. Reasons it was a bad idea. Finally, after an hours worth of 'liability and consent release' forms, she gave up. Then she'd cuffed Rebecca to her bed to 'keep her from lashing out' and brought in a security office in dark armor, a little baton hanging off his waist while he leaned against the door.

But, finally, Doctor Bitch wheeled one of those standing mirrors into the room, covered by a thin sheet.

"I am legally required to warn you once again." Doctor Bitch said, standing beside the sheet. "You were extensively rebuilt. Early shocks like this have been known to cause depression, suicidal tendences - even cyberpsychosis."

That last part made her wince, hand balling in the sheets - David…

She pushed the memories down and took a deep breath.

"I've seen most of it." She argued, shrugging flippantly. "And I know my face got fucked, too. Not gonna go fuckin' psycho on you just from seein' it."

"It's entirely plausible you-"

"Look, Doc Bitch, I signed your damn papers." Becca snapped, rattling her cuffs pointedly. "Let ya cuff me, too."

"Even so, your mental stability is already-"

"Hey, fuck you, too, Doc Bitch."

"I do have a name, you know."

"Yeah, take that joy-toy suit off and maybe you can give me a reason to use it." She smirked, "Maybe."

The doctor only groaned, shaking her head and reaching up to pull the curtain off.

After what Smasher had done to her, most of her side had been… Well, gone. Lung, ribs, part of her heart chamber, kidney, most of her guts - all of it had been ruined or compromised. Enough that it had to be replaced. Her hip and waist had been mostly intact, at least, so they'd just repaired that. Which at least meant she could still get laid! Which wasn't much, but…

Assuming people were fine with 'short, flat and half made of metal' she could at least blow off stress! And she'd take what little wins she could get right now…

Her various bits had been enclosed in a smooth, pale length of synth-skin stretched over the typical metal composite plating that kept her together and dyed to match her less-than-natural hue. The doctor had even copied her ink over! At least… Mostly. There were a few bad spots, and ink on synth-skin always looked off to her, somehow. But it was there, and it looked relatively normal - she could even feel it, raking her fingers up her side and over her chest, then prodding along the seam where she'd been put back together, right down her sternum-

"Careful." The doctor warned quietly, "You're still-"

"Fuck off."

The woman sighed, "Your plan doesn't cover another rebuild…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it…"

Her arm and leg had both been repaired in the same minimalist way. Synth-skin died and inked as close to matching her 'ganic ones as possible. Her joints were just barely visible in lines at her shoulder in elbow, hinging and shifting as she bent her arm, but it all looked Human enough. Aside from her knuckles, which had been socketed openly in a way that gave them a lot of flexibility, and little studs along her knuckles like pseudo-dusters attached right into her hand. The simple sockets would make maintenance easy, but…

Fuck, they were ugly!

Her head had fared as well as most of the rest of her body - bone, blood and even a teensy bit of brain smeared across the concrete. Her jaw was half-titanium, now, hinged in the same open but mostly covered way as her elbow, shoulder and wrist. And her skull was just as hard, titanium across most of it. Synth-skin and hair stretched over it, letting at least that much look as much like her old self as possible, even if the layered plates over her jaw-joint looked like gills or something that made her look almost ghoulish from the front.

At least her eyes looked unchanged - although they'd been replaced by a newer set of Kiroshis, which definitely helped all the little imperfections just stand right out - nice and clear.

"Fuck me…"She murmured, running a finger along the hinge of her jaw. "Had to be my good side, too, didn't it?"

"We replicated size, shape, color, neurological sensitivities - everything, as best we could, based on your other half." The doctor explained quietly, "Aside from durability, your right is as indistinguishable as your package, and your condition, allowed."

"Yeah, I bet…" She murmured, tracing a hand along her thigh and murmuring, "You did my tats up?"

"Officially?" She turned and the guard grunted, slipping out the door without a word. Turning to Becca, she said, "No, I didn't."

"Not allowed to?"

"No." She answered, folding her hands at the back of her waist like the typical MiliTech soldier. "It's considered a waste of time and expertise, in return for no uptick in your physical condition."

"So… Why do it then?"

"The more subtle the repairs, the less likely you fall into psychosis." Doctor Bitch explained simply, almost boredly, "You were mostly 'ganic when you hit my table, aside from your hands, which you'll see we also had to replace. So while I could have just 'borged half of you and moved on.. Well, the results would likely have harmed my reputation, presuming you didn't go full cyberpsycho and hurt me more directly."

"Ah." That all made more sense than charity or whatever the hell, at least. Still, though, she rattled her cuffs and quriked a smile, "Irons 'n drugs weren't enough for ya?"

"Your recovery… Matters." The woman huffed, "I do my job, and do it well."

"Seriously?" She waved a hand at her side, "This shit's preem. You went outta your way to protect your rep? I don't even know your damn name. Who'd I tell? Hell, rebuild from what hit me? You could have used rusty parts and you'd be sold."

"Believe me, don't, not my problem." She shrugged, signaling the cuffs' releases with a direct signal. "You're stable, though, so… Good. You can start therapy tommorrow."

"Joy…"

"Mhm." The doctor said, turning to leave.

"Wait." Becca said, making the woman turn to her, head quirked in the obvious question. Becca flushed, nervous, and flicked her gaze away, murmuring quietly, "What's, uh, what's your name? Never bothered to, ya know… Look for it, on the docs, an' don't wanna keep callin' you 'Bitch' after you bein' so nice to me."

"Rebuilding half your body wasn't enough to earn respect." She mused, "But copying over your tattoos is?"

"Bein' decent is." Becca corrected her, turning to glare her way. "Don't wanna tell me, that's fuckin'-"

"Sarah." The woman cut her off with a sigh, "Doctor Sarah Vitch."

"Sarah… Vitch?" Becca blinked, cuckling in spite of herself - in spite of the ache it sent up her side. "Seriously? That's basically the same as-"

"And when you came to my table, you were 'basically' dead." Doctor Vitch pointed out, turning to her more fulling and lifting her chin haughtily. "So, was that the same?"

"...Okay." Becca chuckled again, "Point taken."

"Quite right." The doctor nodded, turning and stepping through the door with a simple, quiet, "Get some rest. We'll speak again come morning."

"Yeah…" She murmured, laying back in her bed and staring up at the ceiling as the lights dimmed. After a while, she raised her new prosthetic, staring up at the back of her hand, at the black knuckle-joints, and ran her 'ganic fingers along its edge. It was rough, hinges and sockets catching on her nail…

"Just like David's…" She murmured, eyes burning. She reached up as something ran along her cheek, and found it wet. Rolling over, she pressed her face into the pillow and choked, "Oh, David…"

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Doctor Sarah Vitch leaned against the wall and listened to the muted crying from inside, head bowed, and sighed. Clinically, it was good that she was crying. It meant her neural repairs had worked - she remembered enough to be sad, and could process being sad, too. And it was good that she was dealing with that grief in a healthy way, too. Not repressing it, but rather, facing it. But less clinically…

She raised her own hand, curling and uncurling it slowly, and sighed.

Then she rolled her therapy session back an hour, to let her rest more, and moved on down the hall.

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Neffex Fan :

Largely inspired this fic! The design is tweaked, as you could tell, and there's gonna be more to this than that but…. Yeah.

Azure Storms :

Chapters may be short, and farther between than I liked, but I do have an interest in this one.

Jack the Sparrow :

Oh, it's a Netflix show. SHould defo watch it - it'll make you even sadder!

Australian Dealer :

All good ideas, but I have a different idea in mind.