Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I remember being cold.

It was dark, and I was shivering.

The moon looked like bone above me, lighting the clouded puffs of breath that I took.

I couldn't feel my hands.

Then I was inside, and the feeling slowly came back to my limbs, like the ache radiating from my bones after a long day of exercise.

The room was lit by candle-light. The walls were made of wood. Before me, a sturdy counter.

But why can't I seem to move?

She stood, pale and shivering in a room with no entrances, as an old, hunched rat appeared from a dark corner, lighting his candle on the one at the desk, "My. You look like you're in quite a state! Were you here for the job?"

Around them, the room expanded, almost imperceptibly, like breathing, stretching the wooden walls with each creaking inhalation, a whistling, icy breeze encroaching on the strangely comfortable warmth inside.

"Where...?" She trailed off, voice sticking in her throat.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, my dear. This place is undergoing some...renovations, of late," his tone was only briefly distasteful, "I suppose I'm being a bit presumptuous, assuming you recognised the place. Welcome to Gregory House. I am Gregory."

The young woman rubbed bare arms, finally turning her aching neck to look around the room. A hotel lobby. Yes...this...this made perfect sense. Why had she thought this place was breathing a moment ago? It must have been a trick of the light.

"Are you feeling alright, my dear? You look rather pale...perhaps we should get you checked in so that you can lie down," he took up a pair of reading glasses, propping them on his curved, whiskered snout, "Can I get a name for the books?"

"I..." she stood there a moment, "Sorry, I don't..."

The entire place seemed to shiver, as if it were alive.

"Oh, please don't worry about it too much, my dear. Even a nickname will do," Gregory quickly assured.

"Right...sorry, I just..." can't remember my name, "Don't like giving out my name. You can call me Pink."

"A lovely name for someone with such lovely pink hair," the old rat complimented, scrawling down the name in the book, "I'm so glad that position has been filled so quickly! Ah, but we can discuss that come morning. I'll return shortly. Please wait here while I prepare your room."

She froze for a moment, watching as the candle flame retreated into the darkened hallway. A tension she hadn't realised she had been holding in her shoulders slowly relaxed. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she shifted from one foot to the other, slowly walking toward a sofa that sat in the middle of the room. It was an old thing. It looked so strangely familiar, with an embroidered pink fabric, and polished wooden trim.

Pink stared at it for a few seconds. Where did she know it from...there was even that same, worn down stain in the fading pink fabric, almost shining where it had been rubbed and scrubbed at in a desperate attempt to clean it before she had been caught by....

"Do you like the furniture, my dear?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning on the ball of her foot, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have, "I...ah...I used to have one like this," she gestured to the couch, which she now noticed was complimented by unfamiliar matching chairs.

"Is that so? It's quite rare to have the whole set you know," Gregory commented, moving up beside her as she turned her attention back to the sitting area, "It's nice to see such a beautiful young woman who has an appreciation for antiques. You must remind me to show you my collection sometime."

She looked down at him, having a good bit of height over his slouching form, "I'm not sure, Mr...um..."

"Please, just Gregory is fine," he assured her, "You could say I'm not too fond of getting my name out there either. Hehehe..."

"Right. I'm not sure, Gregory. I...I'm not sure I'm who you think I am. I...maybe I should go, now. I'm very sorry to inconvenience you." She turned, and started walking toward the double doors which looked most likely to be an exit.

"Ms. Pink, please. The position is open to anyone, and," his tone hadn't changed, but something about it sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the icy cold outside, and the howling wind that waited for her the moment she walked out that door, "I can't send a young woman out there alone. Not at this time of night! Please, at least come and look at your room."

"Look at..." pale blue eyes turned toward the old rat. Wasn't it strange that he was like this? Something about all of this was very, very odd. How had she come here? Who was he? Who...was she? Her lips moved against her will, "I don't suppose there is any harm in looking."

He smiled, crooked, yellowed teeth gleaming in the light from his candle, "Excellent, my dear. Please follow me."

And she did. She followed him down the hall, feeling the shift of the floorboards with every step. The walls were lined with paintings, sculptures and shadowboxes. She couldn't look at them in the dark.

"I'll give you a proper tour come morning," he spoke as they walked, "You'll want to meet the other residents, of course. And our chef will be eagre to make sure you get something to eat. You're so thin, it's no wonder you were freezing! I'll never understand why young women nowadays are so concerned with their figure at the cost of their health...."

Pink frowned, unable to articulate her offense for a moment, "Excuse me, that's incredibly inappropria--"

"Ah, here we are. Room 404," the door opened more silently than expected, revealing a sparsely decorated room, though still cozy, mostly wood, with a circular blue rug in the centre and a comfortable looking bed large enough for two, "Please, make yourself at home. Feel free to decorate however you like. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. The bath is just down the hall and to the right, if you need it. The phone on your desk connects to any room in the hotel."

Pink listened numbly. The room was bigger than she'd expected it to be, but was incredibly empty. She was distantly aware of Gregory continuing to speak, describing various things within the room. The bedframe was from the...Titanic? What?

She had to force herself to tune back in, as he showed her where to find spare candles, if the power went out, and told her that there were some spare clothes in the closet that were about her size.

"I...see. Right. Thank you Mist--um. Thank you, Gregory. I'm...actually very tired. I think I'm going to get some sleep now."

"Of course, my dear. We'll discuss your employment come morning," his tail had barely cleared the door as it shut behind him, with a soft click.

The weight of a day unremembered flowed through her limbs. She moved automatically toward the bed, stripping out of damp clothing as she went. Navy blue crop top, followed by denim skirt, then boots, then socks, and finally her bra, all left in a pile on the floor, as she collapsed onto the bed, facedown, before wiggling under the covers.

Sleep was heavy and quick to take her. By the time she woke, dim beams of clouded sunlight filtered through a lace curtain, into her room, swirls of dust dancing in the air.

She lay there for several minutes, blue eyes squinting slightly at the beam shining onto the comfortable, if slightly scratchy old blanket she'd so easily thrown herself onto.

Getting up took more effort than she expected it to, like she was trying to move through gelatin instead of air. This room didn't look or feel like a hotel. But in spite of it all, everything seemed oddly bright, as she collected her bra off the floor, putting it on like she had a hundred times before, and making her way over to the closet to see what there was for her to wear.

The clothing inside was a little out of date, in the way that a ticket to the Queen Mary was a little out of date, but despite a little dust, looked as if it had never been worn before. She picked out a slightly warmer outfit than what she'd left on the floor, getting dressed, and making her way toward the door out into the hall.

Just as she was reaching for the handle, a sharp knock tore her from her almost hypnotised state, making her jump where she stood, before opening it to the rat from the night before.

"Good afternoon. I hope you don't mind my allowing you to sleep in, but you seemed very exhausted, my dear."

"Oh. Um," she brushed a pink strand of hair behind her ear, "Yes, I was...I think I needed the sleep, thank you. But, um...look, I'm not even sure what sort of job you wanted to hire me for?"

He rose a brow, purple eyes, for just a moment, both focused on her, before his lazy eye once more slipped into a sidelong stare, "Now, now, my dear, it's nothing too intimidating. Just a simple co-manager position," he gestured for her to follow him as he led the way down the hall, "We've got a rather large number of residents, now, and on top of that, there are some...complications, from one of our former residents. I'm not really able to go into detail unless you take the job, but it's rather serious, and we need someone to fill the position as soon as possible so that we can take care of the problems he's been causing for me and my tenants."

"Complications?" She hugged herself as she walked, looking about the hallway, which seemed so much larger than it had the previous night, "How would this have anything to do with me? I don't even have any management experience, least of all in a hotel."

"As I said, the details are for after you're hired. For now, suffice it to say that everyone living here has the potential to be in terrible danger without someone else to take on some of the responsibility around here. And of course, you will be paid handsomely."

Pink stopped, taking a moment to look around. Antiques and oddities framed the hall around her.

Gregory stopped as well, glancing back, "Is something the matter, my dear?"

"I don't...I don't think I'm cut out for this job. Thank you for the room, and the change of clothes. But...I should just go, before I inconvenience you any more."

"Are you certain?" His tone of voice sent a horrible chill through the hall, though he still looked as kindly as he had before.

Pink took a half step back, "I'm afraid I'm simply...not qualified," she could feel herself growing pale, though she could think of no reason why, "I should...go and get my things."

She turned around, and ran. She didn't know why she was running, or why she was suddenly so terrified of the prospect of staying for even another moment, but she needed to go. Now.

Down the hallway, left turn, then a right, up some stairs...was that right? She couldn't remember. The whole place seemed to be twisting itself. Everything and nothing looked familiar. Finally, she came to a door that looked just like her own, throwing it open, and taking a single step, before realizing there was nothing to step out onto, and there was a cool, Autumn breeze blowing in through the open door.

The guest pinwheeled her arms, trying to grab the doorframe and pull herself back, and in all of a split second, she felt the slightly cold hand of the proprietor closing around her wrist, whipping her around so that she half dangled over the four storey drop, his other hand braced on the frame.

"My, my. Seems you've fallen for our old security door. Didn't you read the sign?" He was smirking, "Hmm...I suppose, if you really want to leave, I can't stop you, but...you did stay here last night without paying. I'm under no obligation to make sure you don't get hurt if you're not planning on taking the job..." His grip began to loosen.

Pink scrambled to hold onto him, eyes wide with fear, "What the fuck? You're crazy!"

"It's not the first I've been told as much, my dear. It really is a shame. You would have made an excellent manager..." He let go entirely.

All that was keeping her from falling was her own slipping grip on his arm, "Fine! Fine, I'll take the job!"

"Excellent. I'm glad you saw reason," his sharp nailed hand closed again on her wrist, as he pulled her back, and into the hall, letting go as soon as she was safe.

She dropped, shaking, to her knees, fingers digging into the thick, antique carpet as if it would save her from falling again. At the same time, Gregory was shutting and locking the door with a heavy set of keys.

He tested the door, "There we go. No more accidents."

"Why the hell do you even have a door to nowhere??"

"It's an old security trick, going back to when the hotel was first built, meant to trick those who would steal from us into falling to their death," he replied, "It's called an 'Irish elevator,' though I personally prefer to call it a 'dead man's door.' Of course, had you gone through it, you most certainly would be... I wonder who unlocked it? Heheh."

"What the h..."

"Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your boss?"

Pink frowned, pressing her lips together.

"I'm just joking, my dear! I'm sure we're going to get along just fine. Now, get up, and follow me. We have some work to do."

Chapter Text

Pink followed behind the rat as soon as she got her bearings, searching for pockets in her borrowed dress, and taking in the eclectic collection of bizarre and macabre devices, mostly antique, which lined the walls.

"I'll be taking care of the cleaning, and checking guests in, for the most part. Your job is more of a...supplementary role. You'll perform various tasks for the residents, at their request. You can say no to any task, so don't worry about anyone forcing you into anything untoward! But you get paid per task completed, and you do need to earn enough to afford the cost of your room at the end of the month."

"Wait," she broke out of her daze, catching up to walk alongside him, "You're forcing me into this job, and you're going to make me pay rent?"

"Now, now, my dear! Don't be so upset! At the start of every month, you have the option to simply walk away, with your rent fully paid. But you understand that I couldn't just send you back out there, into the cold, without a penny to your name, now could I?"

"What the hell? How is this even legal?"

"Don't you worry about that. We have our own team of lawyers, who have thoroughly assured me that there is nothing illegal happening here."

"Why would you need a whole team of lawyers?"

"JUDGMENT!!!" The shout came with a clattering of chains and a loud click of a set of bearings slotting into place in an overhead track

"Eeep!" Pink's reaction was automatic at the sudden, loud sound. She covered her mouth.

Gregory, too, seemed startled, jumping into the air, before stamping his foot, "You damn crooked scale! What have I told you people about sneaking up on me like that!?"

"CROOKED?! My judgments are perfectly balanced, and without bias!"

"Without bias my foot! You have it out for me!"

Pink backed away as the two argued, glancing toward the hall behind her to be sure no one else was sneaking their way into the conversation.

"An assertion like that is a bad look, Gregory," the chain from which he was suspended extended slightly, putting the intimidatingly sized demon-scales just a bit closer to the rat's height. One of the five ton weights almost brushed the floor, "Especially when you don't have the evidence to back up your claim."

"And what kind of evidence would you suggest, hm?" He leaned toward Judgment Boy antagonistically.

"The only evidence I need is the unequivocal judgment of the SCALES OF TRUTH!" He shortened his chain, giving a spin that sent gold and red light streaking through the air from the cages at the end of his arms, "JUDGMENT!!!" The spinning slowed to a stop with his word, the bottom dropping out from under one of the cages, shattering the heart on the floor at the rat's feet, "And you, Gregory, have a heart as black as coal, and a list of sins as long as you are small. The only thing that outnumbers your evil intentions is the sheer amount of your inadequacies. That's the truth. Now you--"

"A-Hem," Pink cleared her throat, unable to stand aside much longer, as the sudden need to move itched through her limbs, her eyes and mind naturally sliding off of the pair of small, black-clad people who arrived to clean up the shattered heart, and place a new one in the empty cage, "S-sorry to uhh. Interrupt," she tried to look at the pair again, but they were already gone, and just as quickly, her mind slid off of them as well, "I um. I think we haven't been introduced. My name is...ah...they call me Pink," out of habit, she offered a hand to shake, froze, staring at his scales, and slowly took her hand back to herself, "Sorry."

"Done something wrong, Pink?" The judge gave a smarmy grin, oni-like teeth punctuating it sharply, "You shouldn't make a habit of apologising, unless you're guilty, otherwise you might implicate yourself in the future."

A not-entirely-unpleasant shiver ran down her spine, "Ah. Right. S--um. So, what was your name?"

"They call me Judgment Boy~!" He sang his answer, giving a little spin, and, with what must have been some effort, given his weights, tilted himself forward in what could be called a...bow? No, not really, but certainly some kind of polite greeting, "I'm sure we'll get to know eachother very well, Pink. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself in need of my...special services, please don't hesitate to stop by the Judgment Factory."

Wa--was that a wink? It was gone too fast to be sure, and the lawyer was gone in another shout of his favourite word, as he disappeared upward in the space of a blink, "Well.....he was uh...interesting...."

Gregory huffed impatiently, "Yes, interesting, if you like black and white thinking, and a god complex. If I were you, I'd take all his talk of justice, and judgment with a pinch of salt! Speaking of which," he smoothed a wrinkle in his shirt, which stubbornly popped back up, "I was about to show you to the dining room, before we were so rudely interrupted."

Pink's stomach growled involuntarily, "Oh. Right, you said you had a chef here?"

"Yes! The very best Chef in the world," his tone was unreadable behind its mask of pleasantness, "Right this way. He takes his cooking very seriously, you see, and it would offend him terribly if you didn't come down for at least one meal a day!"

She followed behind him as he began walking again, "I didn't think this place was that fancy, to have its own chef and everything."

"Oh yes, my dear! We've had Chef here for...well almost as long as I've been here! Hehehe."

"What other amenities are there?"

"Well, we have a lounge room, a men's and a women's bath, open at all hours, an in-house clinic, a community room, a garden, a shop, a small casino...and several other rooms, if you can find them. The place is very old, and some of the more...unique features can get a little hard to find, as time goes on."

"Wow," her brows steadily climbed higher, as they descended the stairs to the ground floor. The place didn't look that big from outside, "I guess...the only other thing I need to ask is what was so urgent that you needed someone so quickly?"

"Ah. Well, you see, my dear, we have a bit of a problem with eh--" he opened the door into the dining room, running headlong into...himself?

Both spoke simultaneously, in the same tone, "OW!" They rubbed their foreheads in mirrored images of pain, "Watch where you're going you blind--oh!" Both stopped short of their insult, clearing their throats in unison.

Pink's blue eyes widened a little, "I....what."

"This," the Gregory she had been following spoke, "Is the problem."

Chapter Text

The second Gregory finally stopped rubbing his forehead, standing up a little straighter, "Yes, it does seem to be quite the problem," he agreed, glancing at the...original, "Are you sure this one can fix the problem, Gregory?"

"Now, now, Gregory, there's no need to be so pessimistic. She's a perfect fit."

There were footsteps from the opposite direction of the one they'd come, "Oh, is it time for the Gregory meeting, already?"

"Not at all, Gregory, we were just discussing our new employee here. We were hoping she could fix our little issue."

"Well, I wouldn't call it little," the second Gregory protested.

"Not that issue, Gregory! The other one."

"Ah! Right," the newest Gregory turned to look at Pink, "So can you, then?"

"I haven't explained that part of the job to her, yet," the first Gregory spoke up, holding a hand up to have the other two hold their tongues, before he continued, "The fact of the matter is, we're having some problems keeping Gregory House together."

Pink waited for one of them to speak again, sighing when they didn't, three pairs of oddly focused eyes studying her, "I really don't see why that's my responsibility. Also, this whole...what, triplet thing? Yeah, great prank, but it's already old."

"Prank?" All three spoke at once, followed by only the original, "You wound me, madam! I would never joke about something like this! All of reality is on the line!"

"I really doubt it would be so bad if your weird hotel closed down."

"Even if it takes this entire universe with it?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Well you see, my dear, we are in a...unique position in space-time. The walls in between realities have begun to crack, meaning that sometimes..."

"My handsome face becomes a little more common around here." Another Gregory finished.

"And everyone else, too," the original picked back up, "Your other job, between er...well, quests, I suppose, will be to repair these cracks in reality. Don't worry, I'll be teaching you how to do so. After you eat, of course."

"What? What makes you think I'm even remotely qualified to fix reality, assuming that's even possible?"

"Hm." The second Gregory looked her up and down, suddenly more serious than he had been.

The third shrugged, "I suppose if you aren't, we'll just have to get rid of you, my dear. Can't chance you scaring off other applicants."

The first gave a resigned sigh, "Yes, I think you're quite right, Gregory. We need this position filled as soon as possible."

A spike of fear that had been building through this entire, odd conversation finally broke the placid surface of Pink's expression. She wondered if she could take them if it came down to a fight. All three copies of the rat were shorter than her, but they were also strong enough to dangle her from the side of a building, assuming they were all in similar shape--hard to tell with such baggy clothes, and inhuman physique...huh.

They were inhuman, weren't they? So was Judgment Boy. Hell, he was a sapient pair of scales! And those shadowy things she couldn't think too hard about--they were human shaped, but far too small to be human. Why hadn't she questioned it? It wasn't as if she ran into this kind of thing on a regular basis. Even if...she couldn't really remember what the people she used to run into looked like, in the first place, she at least knew they weren't like this.

The first Gregory spoke up, "Reconsidering, my dear?"

Pink picked at the borrowed clothing, feeling each stitch with a fingernail. This was very real. Her brows scrunched down slightly, not looking at any of the three rats, "You uh...said you provide training," she glanced up, "I guess I could at least try."

"Excellent! Gregory, Gregory, you're both dismissed. You may go about your business. I have to introduce our co-manager to the other residents."

The other two rats spoke together, "Of course, Gregory. Farewell, my dear," before heading in opposite directions of one another down the hall.

Pink frowned, rubbing the side of her head, "Does this chef of yours provide coffee?"

"Hehehe, it took some convincing, but yes. We have some coffee available. However it can only be drunk after meals."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, our Chef isn't too fond of anything that weakens your sense of taste. He works very hard on creating the perfect balance of flavors, and he would be terribly offended if you were to enjoy it less than you should."

"His cooking better be damn good then," Pink moved toward the door into the dining room, opening it and stepping inside.

There were several tables, about half of them occupied by various people, whom she noticed, only with effort, looked almost entirely not human. There were a few who were humanoid, but she couldn't begin to accuse them of any humanity beyond their shape.

A few glanced up to look at her as she was guided in with a sudden, unwelcome hand on the small of her back, "Come along, my dear. I should introduce you to Chef."

The feeling made her tense, her jaw clenching lightly, "Heh. Sure."

Several pairs of eyes followed her across the room, to the kitchen doors, before muted conversation and whispers started back up.

The kitchen was large, but cluttered. Ingredients, both familiar and alien littered the countertops, kitchen waste sat in a compost bin against one wall, and a sink large enough to wash a fully grown person in sat with a few dishes in it. A massive stew pot sat bubbling on the stove, and in front of the cutting board on the kitchen island, chopping some unidentifiable meat into edible portions, was a man who made the large space feel small, a flame dancing atop his head, wax dripping just slightly down the side of his candle-like chef's hat. The rest of him seemed to be made of condensed darkness itself, glowing, crimson eyes floating in a dark void where his face should have been.

Pink moved to step away from the door, but was stopped by Gregory's arm in front of her.

"I would hate to lose your services already, my dear," he gestured meaningfully to a square of bright tape around the entryway, "Chef doesn't take too kindly to people in his kitchen. If you step beyond this point, anything that happens is up to him."

The wax-and-shadow construct of a man finally turned his attention toward them, giving a low grunt of acknowledgment, before finally working himself up to speech, "New guest?"

"More or less," the rat responded after a moment, "I've hired her as co-manager. As she is an employee, I expect that she will be treated with the same respect you are, when performing her duties. You may also enlist her help, if necessary."

It was impossible to tell where the chef was looking, as he embedded his too-large knife into the cutting board he had been using, coming out from behind the counter and standing in front of her, making her feel utterly minuscule. She felt herself pale, studying the red splatter that had come up from the meat that would likely be the night's dinner. Her stomach growled at the thought of a hearty meal.

After too long in silence, he finally spoke, "Call me...Chef.....name.....and job." He stared at her, expectantly. A thick blob of wax strained against surface tension, to drip down his "hat."

She finally tore her eyes away from it, "I go by Pink," she finally said, with as genuine a smile as she could manage, "It's nice to meet you. I hope we get along well."

He nodded, turning to check on whatever was simmering on the stove, "You.....are hungry. Go. Sit."

"Oh, I can carry it out myse--" Pink stepped over the line. Before she could blink, the knife had been retrieved from the cutting board, and was embedded halfway into the tile, underlayment and concrete not even an inch from her foot.

This close, it was impossible to ignore the sheer size of the blade, larger than some swords she'd seen, and sharp enough to have her crying blood if she looked too hard, it was almost as tall as she was even buried in the floor.

"Go. Sit. Now."

She gulped lightly, "Yes, sir," her voice came out in a high pitched tone, drawing a chuckle from Gregory, who was already making his way through the doors to the dining room.

Chapter Text

Sir?!

Had Pink really called him "Sir??"

The powerful combination of humiliation and self-consciousness caused her to back out of the heavy steel door to the kitchen, and immediately turn toward the dining room as soon as she was safe from accidentally stepping over the tape, covering her face with a hand and making her way over to the nearest table. She could swear under oath that she heard just the barest hint of a chuckle from the waxy construct as the door swung shut behind her, and when she sat down, she wanted to hide from her own judging eyes.

Well...it wasn't as if it were entirely her fault. He was strong, and tall, and fire had always appealed to her in that way that any girl liked a little bit of danger, and...enough of that.

She dropped her hand into her lap, taking a slow, deep breath to clear her head, and straighten her posture, before opening her eyes to look around the room.

A few people were still milling around. A pink lizard woman in a wig and a classy looking nurse's uniform sat near a window with a small amount of light streaming through. She sipped tea from her cup, with a delicate flick of her tongue into the steaming liquid, currently preoccupied by a conversation with a doctor, whose skin sagged in various places, stitched together, with poorly done skin grafts in unnatural blues, and bolts on either side of his head where his ears should have been. Even still, he seemed to hear just fine, adjusting his glasses as he answered some unheard question from the woman at his table, and sipped his coffee.

"That's our in-house medical staff," Gregory spoke up, startling her slightly.

"Shi--ship, I forgot you were there," she turned her head quickly to look at him across the table.

"Oh?" He had a discomfiting smirk spread across his crooked overbite, casually resting an elbow on the table, "Busy thinking about a certain Chef? You should be careful, my dear. He may leave quite an impression, but Nurse Catherine has had her eye on him for quite some time, and she doesn't play well with competition. Hehehe...."

"Wh--?! You dirty old rat, I wasn't," Pink snapped, skin going as pink as her hair, "He was just. Intimidating."

"Well you haven't called me 'sir.' Though, if that's what gets you going, I might need to start locking my door," he waggled his brows over unfocused eyes, only one of them looking toward her.

Her mouth opened for a moment, taken aback as she was, before snapping shut again and curling into a small smile, a sense of calmness passing through her and washing noticeable colour from her face, "Oh, you won't have to worry about that, Gregory. You might be the single most unappealing man I've ever met," her tone was one of almost forced cheer, a sudden and measurable difference from her offence just a moment before.

A dumbstruck expression hit him like a ton of bricks, as the heavy door to the kitchen swung open again, Hell's Chef walking out with a serving tray and two bowls, setting them down in front of each of them. His knife, thankfully, was still in the kitchen, though Pink's pulse nearly jumped at the thought of it.

As the bowl made a dulled clinking sound against the tablecloth, Gregory finally found his voice, "Ah, um. Chef, I'm actually not all that hungr--"

"Eat," the command was simple, deep-voiced, and growly.

Pink's already stiff posture stilled somewhat, as she tried to identify what was in the bowl in front of her. Grease of some kind? Something...pulsing...what could be cubed up, and still moving? Were those nuts mixed in? Or something else?

"Excuse me, Chef...may I ask what this is?"

"......soup of the day. Fresh meat.....nerves intact....madeira winter cherries," he was almost mumbling the ingredient list, but his voice still rumbled deeply, "Peppers.....apple c--" he stopped midway through speaking, red lights that served as eyes growing slightly brighter as he watched Pink take her first bite without waiting for him to finish.

Sure, she was pretty sure at least one of those things was poisonous, but if he was as good a chef as he'd been played up to be, then she doubted it would be that bad.

She took a large spoonful, humming satisfaction as the flavours melted together in her mouth. Before she could control herself, she was going for another bite, then another, then picking up the bowl.

Gregory watched with fading glee, looking disappointed, and a little confused as she ate. Chef's expression was unreadable with only his glowing eyes visible, but they were bright enough to rival his flame.

Pink set the bowl down a little heavily, the slightly spicy warmth spreading through her stomach as she wiped her mouth lightly with a napkin that had been sitting on the table. A mental image of a much younger self played through her head for just a moment, picking flowers and herbs and random plants from the wild garden near her house, making "potions" and "seasonings" with them, that she would always taste, no matter how sick it had gotten her before.

The old rat across from her sliding her his bowl snapped her out of her memory, and it faded like flower petals on the wind, "Here, if you liked it that much, you can have mine. I just don't have much of an appetite, with all the work I do around here."

Hell's Chef narrowed his eyes, before taking her bowl and giving an approving nod, "Come for seconds....anytime. Knock first." He turned and walked away with heavy footsteps.

She ate this second bowl a bit slower, reluctant to leave any behind, though rather full from the first serving.

Gregory had taken out some sort of book and a pair of reading glasses while he waited for her to finish. The doctor, whose name she didn't know yet, wished his colleague a good morning, before moving out of the room.

Catherine turned her eyes toward their table as soon as he was gone, her tail flicking as she watched Pink eat.

The human was nearly done by the time the other woman came over to their table, leaning against it and tilting Pink's face up by the chin somewhat forcefully as she swallowed down a bite, "Well, well, well, what have we here~?" Her tone was openly flirtatious, "What an adorable young woman...an your skin is soooo soft~! I could just take it right off of you right now!"

Pink froze, hand still holding her spoon, eyes widening, "Ah....e-excuse me?"

"Hehe~! Oh don't you worry, sweetie! Gregory told me he'd hired a new girl. My name is Catherine. And you must be Pink. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, cutie~! ♥"

She finally brought herself to move, gently brushing away Catherine's hand on her face, and subtly scooting over in her chair, "Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure. Heh...so you're uh. The nurse?"

The lizard woman placed a hand on her ample hip, shooting a glance toward Gregory, who was watching over his glasses, "Not the brightest bulb on the tree, is she? Good thing she's pretty."

"I--"

"Shhh~♥" She placed a single fingertip on Pink's lips, quieting her instantly, "Good girl. Now I'm gonna need you to come by the office for a proper checkup later today, alright? I don't think I've ever seen a new guest put away Chef's cooking quite like that, and I have just got to get a look inside you..."

Her fingertip traced down her chin, neck and part of her chest, stopping just at her collar where her shirt began, causing her to go almost as pink as Catherine, before the nurse pulled back with visible reluctance.

"Careful now, Catherine. Can't have you breaking this one. She's an employee," Gregory chimed in.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But that doesn't mean I can't give her...a thorough examination," she gave a feminine wave as she turned to walk away, hips swinging as she went.

"Well then. If you're quite done, I think it's time I show you how to do your job."

Chapter Text

The morning was skating by, as Pink followed the old rat down the twisting corridors of Gregory House.

More than once on the walk, she found herself getting disoriented, but after a few steps she'd come to herself. At least, until an almost nausea-inducing disorientation churned through her head, and into her. She kept her eyes focused on Gregory's back, lips pursed, steps becoming a little unsteady. Was this some kind of late reaction to the soup? But it didn't feel like poisoning.

"We're almost there," even he sounded a bit unwell as they went, coming to a large door, which he unlocked with an aged looking key, "You get used to the feeling after awhile. It's a rather unfortunate effect of the distortions in reality. We have a few around, but this is the worst of them, at the moment."

How was it that a presumably furry man looked so green about the gills as they approached the distortion? Probably best not to dwell on it.

The two continued in a grim sort of silence, before Pink finally lay eyes on their destination.

The rip in reality was pulling and twisting at the hallway around it, causing the walls and floor to creak and buckle under pressures they weren't designed to take. It was neither light nor dark. In fact, it was almost invisible, but for the slightest hint of something very, very wrong leaking through from the other side. A sickly breeze wafted through, into the hall, sending loose, dying houseplants, to flutter in the almost fetid air.

A light trembling ran through her, her breath growing shallow, as she looked to Gregory, "What do I do?"

"You go in there." His tone was unmistakably grumpy at this point, "There will be a door. You close it, and lock it, and run like hell back through the distortion before it disappears."

"What? I'm not going in there! If it's so easy, you go in there! What if I get stuck?"

"There are some...risks to myself and the other residents, that you are not yet subject to, my dear," his voice was almost strained, as if he rarely gave this sort of encouragement, "This really is something that only you can do. And if you get stuck...well, I can't imagine how horrible the result would be, so I suggest you don't dally."

Pink frowned, studying the old rat's face, before letting out a breath she'd been holding, and taking out the bandanna from her pocket to cover her nose and mouth, "Fine," her voice was muffled, the cloth doing little to block the smell, though it made her feel a little better.

The air on the other side of the distortion was oddly calm, though still heavy and oppressive, musty and almost sweet scent clinging to the cloth over her mouth and nose on the mist that fell like dust from impossibly high.

It took a monumental effort to take the next step into the strange realm. Her heart pounded in her throat, and her skin felt as cold as death as she moved carefully across off-colour and twisting floorboards. Wallpaper peeled back like papery eyelids, over gaping wounds into a hundred-thousand more realities. Parts of the floor crumbled away underneath her, forcing her jump to her next step, or risk plunging into an endless labyrinth of impossible colours below. Paths branched in myriad directions, each one beckoning her in its own way. Sharp stygian blue light cast impossible shadows.

No matter where she looked, she couldn't find a door. Cold fear went through her. She couldn't go back without fixing it. She couldn't fix it without finding it. She couldn't find if her head didn't stop spinning.

The corridor twisted in a gradual spiral, pain lancing up her ankle as gravity shifted unexpectedly underfoot, tugging her in multiple directions at once.

At the end of the shattered, and swirling hall...stood Gregory. But there was something wrong with him. Well...more wrong.

Fur was patchy and loose, his smile was too wide, and too toothy. Greying blond hair hung in greasy strands, his unfocused eyes boggling slightly out of the sockets. He slowly shuffled toward her, steps unsteady and liken to something that only knew what legs were for in theory. A simultaneously deep, and impossibly high peel of laughter broke through slightly bloodied teeth in a shower of foaming spittle. 

And then he lunged at her, causing her to take a step back on her twisted ankle, as too-long claws ripped into her arm, a splatter of vibrant red showing the invisible spots of the floor where they moved and shifted underfoot.

"Hey! Gregory, what the fuck?" She felt perfectly justified in swearing in that moment.

His head snapped to the side, tilting in an almost boneless way as his grin grew too wide for his face, "G-G-Gȓ̴͇̰̅ē̶͜g̸͝ͅoŗ̸̢̛̛͙͚̗̼̘̳̰͉̝͓͋̀̊̓́̾̑̈͜͝͝y̶̛͙̯͛̒̈y̴̧̲̆̿̀̎́̊̌̀̀̚͜yy....G-reg-ory, Gregory, Gregory, Gregory,GregoryGregory Hooooȕ̴̧s̸͚̒ś̵̢s̷͓̊è̸̶̶̶̷̡̢̜̞̥̋̈́̀̕e, y-yess̷s̷s̴,̴" his voice was slurring and almost staticky in spots, like a radio rapidly changing channels to find the right words to say, "W-w̴͓̟͐̕-wel̶͖̏c̶̦̉ome t-to Grrrego̵̸̸̴̵̢̝̬͎͍͑̍͐͂̚r̸̵̷̸̶̙͈̘̫̦̋̀́͋͝y̶̸̷̷̵̨̲̪̺̆̅̈́̈̕͜ Ha-House.....~" He giggled, a terrible sound that gave her a splitting headache, "A roo̷̰̿m̶̼͐,̵̩̇ ̴͖͠a̵̗̿ ̷̲̽r̶̤̃ŏ̴̞om, would̷̢͇̺̣͆̐͒-̵͖͍͇̘̋̈́̐͗l̶͍̻̇̌͝ḑ̴̫͊̍̀̚-̶̻̝́̊̚͝d-d yoư̸̴̷̸̵̵̴̷̷̸̵̵̶̶̶̸̷̴̵̷̵̷̴̴̷̵̸̵̵̸̵̷̵̴̷̷̴̴̧̨̧̢̨̡̧̯̲͓̫͎̖̫̳͕̤̼͙̪̩̗̤͕̮̥͉̤̹͕͎̩̜̭͙̻̟̯͓̱͈͇̘̩̬̟̙̯̬̜̲̝̖͗͗̇̎͗͆̾̔̌̀͊̀͋͐͑̓̅̀́̐͋̓̅̾͑̏͛̎̌̀̓̀͐͌̓̏̈́͋͛̀̑͐̈̇͊͂̂̅̕̕͘͘͜͜͝ like a roŏ̸̸̴̶̷̶̜̚ö̸̴̴̴̸̶̸̢͍́̑o̸̶̷̵̸̸̪̎͝o̷̵̴̶̸̯̎om? My d-dear, my f-f-f-f r e i n d? Hhehhehehehehe!!!!~"

She couldn't think. Her arm stung. Panic and pain warred for attention in her head. The edges of the gashes in her arm felt as if they were beginning to melt.

He came in for another attack, discordant laughter echoing through her head from every direction, disorienting and disarming her, as too many, too sharp teeth sank into her arm in a foaming mess of acid-like fluid.

A scream tore from her, as she flung the misshapen figure of her new boss off of her arm in a show of adrenaline induced strength. She launched off of her good leg, pinning the old rat down, and grabbing his still cackling head with both hands, fingers tangled in awful oily fur and hair. She bashed his head into the shifting, sharp edged floorboards, over and over and over and over, until all she was left holding were a few tufts of fur, and meat and bone, the distorted echo of his laughter still bouncing off the inside of her skull.

Pink didn't know that she was crying, or that her own blood was quickly leaving her, or that her hands were blistering under the acidic fluids of the not-Gregory pinned to the floor beneath her. 

She stood, wincing under her own weight. Things were falling to pieces around her. The rift stood in front of her, slowly shrinking. She rand, unthinking, through the diminishing gap, just before it collapsed behind her, all of the wrong feeling that had filled the hall when she arrived to fix it disappearing like a bad memory, even as the blister continued to raise on her skin, and her now swollen ankle screamed in protest with every step.

Only a few more steps were managed before her legs refused to hold her any longer, and her face rapidly approached the floor.