Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The elevator creaked, a red number flickering above your head with each passing floor. 2…3…4…

Your eyes were glued to the screen, a stack of returning documents tucked to your chest, and your focus just as steadfast on getting them where they needed to be so you could finally call it a day. The workdays often flew by with all the running around you did, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dog tired by the end.

7…8. Your stare fell to the doors, body shooting forward as they slid open.

You were the first to hop out and beat the crowd, a spring in your step as you passed the small group going in and giving a nod to anyone that gave you a passing glance. You didn’t quite look fit for an attorney’s office with your open flannel and black and white sneakers that would squeak if you weren’t methodical with how you tread the freshly waxed floors, but anyone who had the gall to say anything would usually figure you weren’t anyone important enough to criticize in the first place. That was how you liked it at the end of the day.

“[Mr./Ms.] [L/N]. Right on time.” The secretary stood when he saw you turn from the hall and approach the front counter, leading a few people standing by to glance as you trotted over. Your arm stretched over to him with the stack, and you simply chimed, “Always am, sir.” The moment the weight was taken from your hand, you already had a leg pointed back the way you came and gave him another quaint smile. “Have a good one.”

Running all over Essex county to make sure documents from law offices, police stations, and hospitals got to one another was anything but easy. They kept your shoes worn in the soles, pacing down hallways with various packets: documents ensuring someone was insured before an operation, freshly sealed copies of the death certificate to meet the hands of attorneys, or warrants to transport to the jails – just in case they didn’t book the right person. It all went through your hands at one point or another, which made you feel some semblance of importance you supposed. It was as though you were a fly on the wall, existing between being removed as much as you were embedded within happenings in town.

No one really knew you outside of that, which again, was how you preferred things.

After a brief stop by the records office, an off shoot from the local police station, you said goodnight to the clerks and strode back out as soon as you had come. The early Summer air, like an open door to the long evening ahead, kissed you as you took your time making it to your car. Recollections of doing the same walk five years earlier, that new gig wonder still there, made you smirk to yourself. There was charm in knowing nothing, but another feeling of knowing it had all been brought to some kind of fruition through the motions. This job wasn’t hard by many means, but it wasn’t as simple as you had thought back then either.

You were also still living at home when the courier job fell into your lap, but not now. You had a roommate now, who even after a few months of adjusting to the welcome still didn’t seem to know what to do with you being around. It wasn’t like you tried to serve as a nuisance, or at least Dan didn’t say that you did.

You had met Daniel Cain through work, of course; being a document courier for Miskatonic was a strike of luck – and whether it was good or bad was up to the beholder. After you had been stuck with him in the morgue trying to find a stack of papers that had been misdelivered, he was kind enough to help you dig them up and then walk you to where they actually needed to be. It was somewhere in that little adventure where he mentioned he was looking for a roommate, dismissive of his own offer to hide genuine hope in his eyes. You had pushed it off and admitted you would see how things worked out on your end before telling him yes. Neither of you had been kidding anyone, though. A week later you were on his porch and asking if there was still room for one more. He had been nothing but open arms, but it was maybe two days later that you realized he wasn’t going to be your only companion in his house.

The fact it had taken two days was a story within itself.

~

On the kitchen counter, your notebook had found a friend.

Entering quietly, your jacket was not even out of your arm yet before you approached the two books sitting together, like you were intruding on a quiet conversation between them. One you recognized as your own, hand settling on it as you glanced at the other one. It was much worse for wear, and there was a dried stain on one corner, making the paper strangely fold with water damage. Who’s been taking care of you?

Listening to the silence of the house, only catching a sink shut off from down the hall in the back of your mind, you took hold of the cover. Opening slowly, once again like it was something forbidden, you held your breath to glance inside. There was poor handwriting on one half of the page, and then a strange body-esque shape on the other.

In your most pretentious of hearts, you mused you could’ve drawn that better yourself.

“Hey, you’re home a little early.” Dan greeted as he swung in around the doorway, already looking for the thousand little things he needed before leaving yet still giving a halfhearted smile your way. You had let go of the cover, smiling back as you wandered over to a stool by the counter. You sat straight, idly turning the page in your own book while paying no mind to the other. “Hey yourself. Working the evening shift?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing I’m not already used to, though. I worked late almost every night back when I was a student.” Dan was already easing up from his focused stride, standing beside you with his eyes going everywhere at once. When he seemed to catch your smirk, though, it sat a little more still. You nodded and mentioned, “Well, I don’t have plans tonight. Need anything done around here?”

“No, no… You’re perfectly fine just relaxing, [Y/N]. You probably ran halfway across town today.” Dan cleared his throat, hand suddenly settling on a shoulder and making you glance at it. “Look,” His voice fell lower, a quiet graze over you as he asked, “Will you be…alright here tonight? By yourself?”

You stifled a laugh, the smirk once again springing on your face. Dan didn’t mirror it, and insisted, “[Y/N], I’m serious.” You laughed again, this time letting yourself chuckle almost a little too loudly. “Are you asking me if I can handle being home alone? Of course I can.” You hummed, already looking back to your book in your lap.

“I’m asking if you’re going to be okay with what’s going on downstairs.” Dan clarified, and this time you looked back up with your smile gone. The frown was enough to finally dawn on you that he was being serious. You were silent at first, because up until that moment you had once again forgotten that there was someone else downstairs.

Since moving in a few months prior, Dan’s other roommate had barely even looked at you. Not that you took it personally, of course, especially with assurances that it was “just how he was”. Like the rest of the household, he was a busy man. He had been doing some independent research up until he met Dan, and even then, you weren’t at all sure what he was spending all his time down in the basement with. Following the reclusive nature, you simply never asked. You barely even bothered the guy if you could help it.

There wasn’t a lot of room for him to complain when you were the one that was often woken up to loud clanging below the floor, or in the middle of laughing about something with Dan and would spot him in the hallway. The way he looked at you was enough to make any joy hole up back inside of you, unsure if you should even be breathing too loudly around him. Despite all of that, you stomped down your uncertainty and nodded, even offering a small smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. I know the drill after four months of being your roommate.” You then tapped your foot on the floor, nodding downwards as you added, “Does he need anything done around here? I figured I’d ask you since he doesn’t like to talk to me.”

Dan laughed, but then brushed something off your shoulder as he murmured, “He doesn’t hate you. I told you, it’s just how he is. I’m trying to talk to him about it.” He shrugged, lowering his voice, “I wasn’t even sure the guy liked me until a couple weeks of living with him, you know.”

You nodded, quiet as you looked back down at your sketchbook. You had cracked it open, and a stray drawing of an eye stared back.

Dan pursed his lips, looking at how you gazed down as you huffed, “Guess that’s just how it is, huh? I don’t bother him. He doesn’t bother me.” You smirked, and after a second moment of thought, your eyes rose to catch Dan again. He was the one looking at the floor now, hands settled on his hips as he seemed lost in thought. You then eased, “Dan, I’m not asking for anything – from either of you. We’re roommates, and that doesn’t mean we have to be best friends or anything. I don’t need to know his business, what goes on below the floorboards is obviously nothing to be worried about.” You felt the joke in your chest, grinning now. “What,” Your voice fell to a low, goofy tone as you leaned in, making him glance at you as you prodded, “You guys got a body down there or something?”

Usually, that voice got a laugh out of him. When he didn’t seem to even smile, his jaw grinding instead, you sat back and found a normal tone. You asked, “What does he do downstairs, anyways?”

Dan’s eyes shot to the clock. “Crap, got to go.” He gave you an awkward nod and uttered, “Hey, don’t wait up for me, okay? I won’t be home until four, it’s not good for you to be all sleep deprived.” You held your breath, the question unanswered but your train of thought deciding to release it as you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Daniel.” You muttered in the same voice, and this time he chuckled as he strode out of the kitchen. It almost felt like you two were married, the only thing missing from the exchange being the intimate kiss on the cheek or some sort of declaration of love.

That thought was squandered as soon as it fell over your mind, your eyes averting the room like someone had heard it and your heart clenching in its place. You two only nodded to one another as he rushed out. The front door shut, and you felt your hand start to pick at the edges of the sketchbook’s pages.

You weren’t sure if you liked the idea of being Dan’s [girlfriend/boyfriend/partner]. It was something that seemed to be held in the offer of moving in with him, though not initiated. Anyone who moved in with each other would have to experience some sort of domestic friendship, you figured, but there was something about how yours formed that started to sit more like a rock at the bottom of the ocean rather than algae on the pond surface whenever you went to bed alone every night.

You were terrified of what that feeling could possibly mean. It didn’t bother you when Dan brought home women, dated them for a week or two, but then inevitably found himself at a roadblock that just sort of quietly ushered itself out. If anything, you were the least of the problem when it came to being a third wheel. It was more about the man downstairs, as in his snide remarks you sometimes caught in the hallway while brushing your teeth or passing by. He was the one who seemed to like getting in Dan’s way when it came to others, including you. Christ, it was like you couldn’t think of one without thinking of the other.

When you looked down, you realized your hands had wandered. You recoiled when you could see you weren’t touching your own book’s pages again.

~

With no one else around but you, you had the nerve to open the damn thing enough to start tracing out what you thought was trying to be depicted. It was a plain body, arrows pointing to certain veins traced out along the arms with…something written down. “Fucking doctor’s handwriting,” You muttered to yourself, squinting at a simple three words of unintelligible penmanship.

A resounding bang came from under your feet, crawling up through a door outside of the kitchen, took you away from the book. You pressed your hand down on it, leaving it wide open as you jolted to your feet and dared to peek out the open doorway. It lead your gaze down another corridor of the house, the one that went towards the basement.

You didn’t know what kind of impulse dragged you over to door, but still you tapped against the frame in a brisk knock and wondered if he could even hear all the way down there. You hadn’t been past this part since moving in, and it was more because the door was always either locked or Dan would tell you a myriad of reasons why there was nothing down there…besides your third roommate.

His name had spaced your mind until this moment where you were quickly realizing that you weren’t getting an answer. “Herbert,” You called, “I just wanted to say if you need anything done around here tonight that I can do it. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to throw it out.”

Resounding silence. You peeled yourself off the wall and sighed, rolling your neck. “Alright, nice chatting with you. Good night!” You called through the wood one last time and walked away before you let something snarky find its footing. You stalked into the dark of the house, stretching a knot in your shoulders out and once again reminding yourself that taking it personally would only start a fight.

Dan doesn’t need that, the reminder was enough to get you to finally wipe the frown off your face, and head to bed before you could let it stir up anything else that would be hard to sleep on.

Chapter Text

Standing at counters were as much as a staple in your day as riding elevators or giving papers to someone who wanted nothing to do with them. Your fingers were flicking through the records left out in their usual spot, avoiding papercuts with your eyes darting from the stack in your hand to the Post-It you had brought with you. All around, the quiet of the Miskatonic waiting room felt sanitized, and it was as though it avoided you rather than letting you reside within, the doctors rushing past your shoulders and conversations always just under breath and out of earshot. If you didn’t make an active effort to stay quiet, you would’ve began muttering each name to yourself just to keep from dozing on your legs like a horse.

1. Nightingale, proof of insurance…K. Galloway, death certificate to be sent down the street-

“Are you [L/N]?” The fried voice made your eyes shoot up, pausing in your fiddling to smile. You replied, “Sure, but [Y/N] is just as good.” A couple of dry countenances from the two ladies in scrubs that leaned in from behind the counter. They seemed to be in sync with their expressions, exchanging a glance and making your mind turn to static.

“You room with Cain, right?” One of them prodded, speaking over the gum she was idly chewing. “Daniel Cain?” The other one clarified. You blew air through your nostrils, nodding curtly. “I do.” You answered, “Just me, him, and-“

“Dr. West.” The second nurse interrupted. You only pursed your lips and nodded a tad bit stronger this time. They let that statement sit, and you awkwardly looked back down to keep taking tally of the records.

“…So, what?” The first nurse shrugged, “Is it a Singin’ in the Rain type’a situation?” You froze again, this time looking at them with a knotted brow. “Hm?” You hummed from behind closed lips. The other nurse snickered, “You know, are you…?” As the gears began to turn, your jaw popped half open, and you stammered, “N-no, I…Oh, wow. No, it’s not like that at all.” The very hint of it made your stomach knot slightly, more out of a morbid realization that people knew you lived with Dan and Herbert, and they thought that it was something with more subtext than even you had considered.

The nurses raised their shaped brows, unconvinced and unimpressed. “What about the two of them?” One asked, her friend blowing a bubble. You opened your mouth to deny again, but then faltered with your eyes casting to the wall. “…That’s none of my business, and not really yours either.” Although you hadn’t seen much of anything between the two of them, there were points where the bickering seemed to come from a very domestic, almost intimate place. Dan had mentioned they had roomed since he was a student, but that could mean anything if you really wanted to fall down the rabbit hole. You reminded yourself that Herbert didn’t even let you talk to Dan for long without some interruption or dirty glance, let alone an outside person or potential date. Anyone that wasn’t him was immediately ostracized, and who knew where it came from -- but now caught in this question, you wondered if jealousy hid behind it all.

“Well, it’d make sense. They were witnesses to that awful massacre that happened a few years ago.” The second nurse hummed, looking at her friend with a shrug. You tilted your head at that, tapping the papers against the counter. “Massacre?” You echoed, and once again they both rolled their eyes back to you.

“Oh.” The gum chewer gawked, “Oh, you don’t know?”

There had been idle mentions of some kind of accident at Miskatonic – specifically in the morgue – a few years before you. You hadn’t even had clearance to come to hospitals on your runs, still in a position where you were serving restraining orders and running from citizens that claimed they didn’t have to take what you were giving them. In fact, you hadn’t even seen anything floating around about the massacre besides one piece of information: nearly fifteen people were involved, but there were only two survivors. A clerk had told you that any mention of their names was blotted out, redacted even to the authoritative viewer for reasons Miskatonic wanted done but didn’t quite explain why.

You gave the nurses a brief goodbye before turning around but felt that they were watching you leave. Oh, [he/she doesn’t / they don’t] know. It wasn’t your fault you sometimes didn’t keep up with the awful happenings in town, or rather that this one had rolled under your radar.

Still, were you supposed to know? You nearly dove for the door as you exited, now lost in that train of thought as you faced the hot afternoon glow of the hospital’s courtyard. What was stopping you from knowing?

~

Pushing through the front door, that familiar silence nearly socked you in the gut. It was even more desolate than the normal aura, a few books left on the coffee table with vivid diagrams and handwritten notes that could breathe better. They were standing in a more thorough shadow than what you had seen in that notebook on the counter the day before. You could tell one of them had blown through here, smirking as you began pulling everything into one stack, and figured the lights also being off was a sure sign Dan was at work already.

It was almost like you had the place to yourself, and if it was anything like the many nights before, you might as well have. As you cleared the coffee table, a familiar shade of white torn from a notebook caught your eye. You looked at it closer, recognizing a fold that you sometimes gave to your own pages, and your smirk fell. Dropping your jacket along the couch arm and reaching for the light, you heard a branch snap somewhere across the street from the house. Eyes flickering out the window, a warm yellow glow spread over the room, your head swiveling back down to confirm a suspicion that sat like a forming storm in your mind.

It was ripped straight from your notebook, unfamiliar blue scribbles on it. You couldn’t read what it said, but you sure recognized the penmanship.

“Herbert!” You hollered, “What are you doing with t-“ You took another step out of the living room, closer down that corridor, and realized as your heart starting to pound in your ears that the basement door was wide open. Straight out of some dream you could be having, you tried to catch your rushing breath as you walked, and even let the silly idea make you turn to look in a mirror hanging on the wall.

This wasn’t in your head, you finally accepted as you saw a pristine reflection in it, making you creep all the more closer. The anticipation of what you could see, who could stop you…it made you hesitate a few steps away from turning inside. A quiet floorboard on the other end of the house stirred, and without thinking you finally bolted into the faint light coming from up the stairs leading down. A few miscellaneous papers were strewn about a weird pattern of assembled tables in the room, encircling one metal slab with multiple scratches and dents in it. You could piece the hollow clangs that you often heard under your feet to it.

Descending with the same care you gave to coming in and still clutching the damned page in one hand, your eyes flickered to more cabinets and clutter wrapped around the side of the staircase. It was a strangely meticulous mess, one that the right person could find anything he may need in but could prove confusing to anyone outside of that.

That was when you saw the arm. Just an arm on one of the tabletops, you realized while your stomach fell through to the deepest pit of your body. An immediate, terrified dry spell in your throat prevented you from making a noise, seeing that it had no sign of decay on it. It was freshly severed, judging by the blood still spouting ever so gently out of one end, a pool in its wake shining in the dim light. You could almost swear you even saw one of its digits move, and that just made the scream threaten to pull itself from your seizing chest as chills barreled up and down your spine.

The front door being catapulted open on the main floor made you flinch out of a horrified trance, gut shooting right back up where it belonged and knotting while your head snapped to look up, hearing it shut just as promptly. A light overhead swung from the force, making you hold the stair railing while trying to see the rest of the room as it flashed and vision moved under the sway from the cable. The footsteps were hovering right over your head as they came in and stopped once more, making you suck in another breath.

You rushed down the remaining couple of steps, trying not to look at the arm on the table as you dove underneath. The steps moved again towards the basement door, and letting a nervous squeak leave your chest you inched against the wall and moved to sit on your knees. You even clasped a hand over your mouth to snuff the panicked breathing that was setting in as the door then swung open from a half-closed position. While you didn’t have any idea how you were going to get out of this, you at least were buying yourself time as the desolate taps against the concrete came down, still waiting for a noise with the same bated breath.

“…Dan?” Herbert called. You watched as the long shadow stretched in front of you, making you slowly push yourself into the corner as the toes of his shoes were now visible. He stood still again, and you could tell he was listening, knowing he’d find something should he leave the silence long enough. You turned, making sure your own shadow wasn’t protruding outwards or a stray piece of clothing wasn’t hanging from under the guise of the table.

As he walked forward, you fought down another gasp for breath and tried desperately to clear an idea on leaving while his back could be turned. It was an easy feat for you, considering you often got away without an acknowledgement day in and day out. Eyes shooting towards the stairs, you then considered what the hell you’d do when you got out. Who would fucking believe that your roommates had body parts down here? Even you felt the urge to look one more time, but as you turned your head you saw the slack-clad legs standing right behind you, shooting down to one knee as you let out a sharp gasp.

“You might be unsightly anywhere else, but not here.” A jolting reaction caused your body to shoot in the other direction when he spoke, glaring harshly at you. You caught your breath, gaze blown wide as you gawked for another pause, and he shook his head while adding, “Not with me, anyways.” He rose to stand, swatting his hand to usher you out into the open. “Get up. How did you even find your way down?”

“You left the door open.” You clambered out, minding your head as you jumped to your feet, not deterred by that sour countenance as you let yourself stand nose to nose with the man and asked, “Are you really the one who should be asking questions right now?” He sneered at that, giving you a glance up and down as the two of you stumbled back in a mirrored move of defiance. You looked to your side, the familiar book cover immediately catching your eye and re-igniting the fire.

“Oh, you want to know what I’m doing?” You snatched your sketchbook, waving it at him as you retorted, “What the hell are you doing with this?” You pointed at the body part on the table, his eyes suddenly releasing in a growing guilt that made his tight-lipped frown fall and his sure stare unable to come back to yours as he looked in the direction of the arm. “What are you doing with that!?” You seethed, trying not to catch another glance of it and in turn think of the possibilities of how it ended up in a house you had been far too comfortable living in.

He shrugged at you, like it was self-explanatory. “Your diagrams are telling the story far more clearer than mine were, so I figured since you left it out that I could-“ You ran your finger along the torn edge of the page, and gasped, “Is this how you treat your notebooks? You tore a bound page out of it! That’s barbaric!”

Herbert scoffed at that, eyes widening, “You really want to call me that, [L/N]?” The book in your hand fell to your side, face trying to muster an expression besides offense as you retorted, “...Do you even know my goddamn name,” Your tight brow released at that, “Herbert West?”

The silence that followed was half shocked, and half guilty. He winced a bit, but then changed the subject with a sharp turn of his head. “Are you going to talk? Tell anyone?”

Your jaw loosened; teeth slightly bared at him as you let the question cloud over your thoughts. What the fuck does he mean by that? “Why would I talk?” You asked, then elaborated, “You’re forgetting that I live here, too. I go and tell people you have…you have-” You wordlessly, furiously gestured at the arm again, “And all three of us get what’s coming. I’m not stupid, Herbert!”

“I had the feeling.” He admitted, and with an aggressive cock of the head you scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You watched him point back up the stairs, “Can you leave me to my business?” Despite glaring at the dismissal, you set the torn page down on the table, right by the limp hand. He stared at it with another frown, letting you exit while the eye contact was finally broken. You felt the uneasy ache set in, the questions of why, what, how swimming around and making you forget what to be upset about first. Still, you had your book back, at least – and this man wasn’t getting any more of it.

“Are you going to-“

You interrupted, lingering on your trudge up the stairs, “I told you, Herbert, I’m not going to tal-“

“Are you going to tell Dan?” The actual question stampeded over you, taking the floor back with a desperate force. Your eyes met his again, trying to glare but finding it hard at the recognition you found in that awful stare. It was like looking in a mirror, his hand carefully settling on the table to lean as he peered up with the first sign of some knowledge that there would be trouble with someone else seeing what he did. Almost as though Dan’s scrutiny would be far worse than any attention from the rest of the circus outside the basement door.

He looked more afraid of this answer than the one before, and realizing you had felt it too was locking all that resentment back in the cage it belonged in. A feeling that choked in the times where you stood by Dan, and the other man was casting his stare full of all that warning for something he wasn’t prepared to do or acknowledge. Swallowing your rage, you cleared your throat and then turned your back to him a second time, nearly running from what you had seen while you could.

“Not if you aren’t going to.”

~

The sight of it was etched into your head, so you did what anyone who had the skill for drawing would. It was hard to form at first, starting by just sketching while splayed out on the couch with a tilted head and droopy eyelids. Soon, it came into fruition with a solid line used to trace the skin, the colors so fresh in your head that it made you twinge in distress while you worked. Vague details you wanted to leave behind you soon formed in the way the nails were shaded, trying to die when the rest of the arm just wasn’t there yet, discolored from however it all went down.

To your shock, the few glances you had gotten were enough to form it all again. To picture it until the sun was well down, night circling the house while you huddled by the small lamp in the living room. Dead silence followed from under your feet, which was odd but you welcomed it, nonetheless. Especially around now, there was a usual thud or a muttering voice, but tonight it all fell to the strange quiet that seemed to tie the two of you to your own projects. It wasn’t like you wanted to see the guy, anyways. Not after what he had implored you to observe.

The more you thought about it the more you wondered if you should act, maybe think of moving out without explaining it to anyone – for everyone’s sake. The hollow shuck of the door being unlocked snapped you from the idea before it fell too far from grace. Your eyes trailed up to see Dan slide in, looking at you and immediately following it with a disappointed huff.

“[Y/N], what did I say about waiting up?”

Your smile was hard to force considering you were about to enter a conversation where you simply couldn’t address what happened earlier that evening. The second place your eyes fell to was the clock on the side table by the sofa, seeing that it was well past two. Like a rug had been pulled out from under you, he watched your eyes boggle slightly, chuckling to himself. “You’re going to be a car wreck tomorrow, you know that?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, flipping the cover of your book closed as you huffed, “What are you, my dad?” It was then, watching him set his things down and pointing towards the kitchen with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile crawl over his face, that you felt that same pang in the center of your chest. You couldn’t leave him. Herbert, a man that would love to wash his hands of you and you of him, it happens – but Dan? No. Part of you had to accept that once again it wasn’t as mutual -- especially considering you had seen someone around with him as soon as last week for a date -- but as you set your book down and dropped the thoughts for the sake of some 2AM coffee with your roommate, you found yourself quick to let yourself float in that thought.

“You seem a little quiet tonight.” Dan mentioned, and you huffed, “Well, I didn’t mean to stay up this late. I’m tired, of course, but I had my reasons.” Pulling a stool up to the counter, you shrugged innocently at him. He nodded in reply, the scoff that accented it making you laugh and insist, “I mean it, I got lost in a project.”

“Which one?”

You shrugged at him again, rubbing your sleeve to soothe the way your hair stood on end at the very thought of what you had drawn. You teased, “Can’t say. Work in progress. You know how that is...right?” Tapping a socked foot against the floor, his gaze flickered down for half a second and he huffed, melting into another grin. “Sure. Both of you are secretive with your plans, huh?” He shook his head, speaking fondly despite the complaint, “I help him day in and day out, and he doesn’t even tell me what he’s doing until he’s halfway done most the time.”

Seeing the way your smile faltered a little, Dan moved the counter stool closer to you, making you have to hide the way you jumped at how close he became. “I saw that there was a blood stain on the wall walking in. Guessing it wasn’t you who did that...” He admitted. Taking a beat, you nodded quietly, an unassuming look to anyone who couldn’t see what was going through your head. Blood was half of it, but sure. Whatever floats the boat.

He winced, and then spoke quieter like someone could listen in, making your eyes dart to the darkness beyond the few dim lights of the kitchen in an idle survey. You didn’t know if it made it worse that you knew what lurked (or at least knew it better) from what you had suspected previously.

“[Y/N], I promise you we aren’t doing anything...screwed up. It’s morbid, maybe, but we don’t care for anything like...” You watched him fumble, twist the truth with a soft blink and a twinging expression. Finally, there was that hand on your shoulder again, making your eyes turn up to his and meet full eye contact with a flurry of new feelings. Something that was crushing the doubt, the fear, and replacing it with a juvenile trust that you were struggling to hold close now, digging for what was left.

Dan insisted, “I mainly tell you to stay away because I know how he gets when he’s in the zone. You could easily get hurt around him, he works with stuff donated to the hospital for science, and it goes to his head a little. Gets the clearance once, all that fun stuff. I promise it isn’t anything that should scare you, though. I...We wouldn’t do anything to you.” He spoke with a forced sincerity that made you smile to keep your mouth from flattening in disbelief; rather, the way you straightened out knowing what you had seen, feeling it seep over you like betrayal was coursing through your veins. Still, you didn’t have the heart to show him any of it.

Instead, you took the mug off the counter that had been growing cold, trying not to get lost in the deep pull of his pleading stare. “You know, I always thought it was funny you live out in a graveyard.” You hummed quietly, taking a sip of your drink. Dan went with it, luckily, and shrugged, “Well, call it strange but I’ve learned to love it. As Herbert says, renovating this place to not look so much like a morgue cost us an arm and a leg.”

You choked almost immediately, Dan’s smile slipping as you doubled over behind the counter to sputter, setting the mug down and coughing towards the floor as the pungent coffee flooded your nose. Why the hell does he like it so strong? Once again, you felt the world come back to you when you felt him settle his hand on your back, giving a surprised look as you hauled yourself upright, shielding your mouth in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” You croaked when you caught sight of his wondering eye, “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Chapter Text

How you were even standing today was a mystery to you, and once again Dan had been right about staying up late. Still, at least you were moving. Exhaustion blanketed over every action, making your eyes droop when they weren’t meeting others’ and yawns not far behind through the many offices you had to stop into. Even the gust of air that hit you through the doors leading into Miskatonic didn’t do much to wake you up, and the noise from inside was enough to make you grumpy rather than alert.

Striding up to the usual cubby near the clock in the emergency room’s lobby, you stuck your hand inside, feeling nothing but cold metal and dust settle onto your skin. No documents from that wing today? Recognizing the noise around you but unable to grasp the complexity of each conversation, you mused to yourself that it sure didn’t seem slow for a day to not have outgoing docs.

“Finding your way this time, [papergirl/paperboy/paper-pusher]?” The voice more than familiar, you turned with an almost embarrassingly wide grin. Dan had found his way to stand next to you while your attention was diverted, watching the bustle with the same keen eye and a nod to the occasional familiar face in the crowd, but the moment they finally fixed to yours everything seemed to fall to the background – or at least, you wondered if that was a mutual feeling as your back settled onto the wall.

“Sure.” You scoffed, “But, thank you for checking, Dr. Cain. You know me, though. Wouldn’t put it past myself to manage getting lost in the depths of this godforsaken place – even still.” He smiled at that and sighed, “Like nothing’s changed, sometimes.”

You shrugged at that, “Nope, still friends with you, still a courier…but-” You held up your I.D. badge, one used to get into the private offices in the building, “I have clearance to any room in this damn hospital.” Dan glanced at your card, lamination under fluorescents making it impossible to see the stiff photo you had taken a few years back for it, and he echoed, “Wait, any room?”

You pushed the I.D. back in your pocket and sighed, “That’s what they said, so long as I stop the habit of wandering. Didn’t have time to find the specific wings and offices I needed to be given the clear to, so they just…gave it all the clear.” You tried not to giggle at the incredulous look forming on his face and insisted, “Said they wouldn’t worry so long as I just show up where I’m expected.” You shrugged harder, this time bumping his arm while you did it as you added under your breath, “Which I do.”

“Look at you,” Dan crossed his arms, grinning as he teased, “Making your way up the ladder.” You rolled your eyes, but the following laugh got cut short as he pointed out, “Herbert and I don’t even have clearance to every spot in the hospital.” You cocked your head at him and asked, “Huh? Shouldn’t you? I mean, you’re doctors.”

He looked away rather quickly, shaking his head at the floor and murmuring a quiet string of words sounding somewhere between don’t know and not sure. Following the broken eye contact, you looked off into the rest of the busy lobby. Almost immediately, you met eyes with a man standing straight across from you, in an open walkway down a corridor.

He had something bulky on his hip, attached to his belt that he held with a sure grip. You let your eyes dance from the rest of the room to him a couple times, idling to see more features while he unapologetically met your glance every time. His stone still eyes were taking it all in, the sight of you standing with Dan almost appearing as though it made him keen to something in his head. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve gotten déjà vu from yesterday, finding the same scrutiny akin to what those nurses had been giving.

When you swallowed hard, growing a little antsy and shifting the papers that you had walked in with in your hands, he then pulled off the wall that he had been leaning against with one round shoulder. You watched him turn the corner, melding into the clusters of people striding along with him in the same direction, but before you could think to bring it up Dan cleared his throat. “Hey, [Y/N], what are you up to tonight?”

You squinted in thought, finally replying in an attempt to ease the weird feeling, “Nothing. Why, need me to get out of the house?” You cracked a snarky grin when you met his eyes again, “Are you and that Denise lady gonna have another date night?”

Dan stood straighter. “No, actually. She…she didn’t want to have another one.” You rose your eyebrows at him, letting the silence sit between you with a thoughtful look at the floor. “…Herbert?”

“No.” He brushed you off, “He left it alone for once. She just…felt like there wasn’t room for her, but I don’t think it was because of Herbert…or even you.” You furrowed your brow at that, and he went on, “I don’t know, she and I just didn’t click much outside of the few puppy dates.”

“Oh.” You frowned now, “I’m sorry, Dan.”

“No, it’s no big deal. I’ve always had issues since my last steady girlfriend, Meg.”

There was little you knew about Dan’s ex-girlfriend, but her name was enough for you. You nodded carefully, and sighed, “Right.”

“[Y/N], I was actually wondering,” He held his breath, and although you didn’t meet his eyes, your eyebrows rose again, a cue to show you were listening. You noticed one of his hands fidgeting in his white coat pockets from your peripheral, and heard his voice sliding to something far meeker than what he had strolled up with, “If you weren’t doing anything, m-maybe you’d-“

“Courier? This is for you.”

A specialist made his shoes squeak on the linoleum as he walked up to you, grabbing your attention with a barren voice as a paper was already being tucked on top of the pack you were holding. “Oh, thank you. What is this, a memo?” You perked up, looking down at it with a crane of your neck and Dan also giving a glance while he still stood close.

“Yeah, just…get it to the other hospital in town as soon as you can. Okay?” The other man patted your shoulder, making you blink at him in a slight confusion as he left the same way he had approached, also just as quickly. Eyes shooting back down, you couldn’t help but read.

“…Missing body parts, huh?” Dan murmured in your ear, and you nearly dropped the stack of pages in your hands. Sweat immediately began pulling from your palms, the pads of your fingers threatening to stain the pristine note as you swallowed hard. Body found with an arm missing. Part of you wanted to look back up at him, ask for confirmation that everything was okay – but he wouldn’t know why you needed that. Only you and Herbert could understand why – and you had already told him you weren’t going to talk.

“Wow,” You hid the tremble in your breath with an attempt to act unimpressed overcoming your voice, tense to hide the way you felt like you were pooling into soup under the skin and your bones couldn’t hold you up anymore, “Weird stuff, huh? Missing bodies…and all that.” Laughing stiffly, you avoided Dan’s stare as you hummed, “I gotta get going, Dan. I’ll see you at home tonight, okay?”

“Oh, sure. See you.” He called as you already took off, sleepiness gone as you started mowing your bottom lip and found yourself unable to look anywhere but down at your papers.

~

It was when you got back to the records office, stashing yourself away in a windowless room and between two long bookcases of nothing but filed paperwork, that you decided you had to get to the end of this rope. Something had to start making sense lest you lost more sleep, or even cracked like an egg. Herbert wasn’t your friend, and Dan seemed to think you were too stupid to figure it out. At least, that was how it all felt.

Eventually, you’d prove them wrong. It wasn’t a courier’s business, but you figured after five years you’d at least know where to look. The older women who ran the office didn’t expect it from you, so when there was a moment neither of them had noticed your presence as you stopped in, you slipped to the shadows of the record closets. You didn’t know where to look first. You started in the shelves labeled ‘M’, thinking Miskatonic would be a good keyword to prod. Your hands were delicate as they ran laps around smooth edges of the folders, pawing through the alphabetic order of the rows and rows, afraid to find what you could only assume was a truth. Were you even ready for that? Are you going in over your head? You wished you could shake someone right now, curious for answers that just weren’t filled by an arm in the basement and a vague memo.

Make it make sense – even if one connected to the other.

A man clearing his throat made you snap your head up, a silent gasp leaving your mouth and guilt burning the edges of your disposition as your heart began to pound against your chest. The familiar set of hazel eyes that allowed no wiggle room between you and him widened at the gesture, and he cracked a smile. “Whoa, [miss/sir/there]. Didn’t mean to startle you, just…” He walked in slowly, imploring you to face him fully and fight the desperate look on your face to something neutral, nodding in greeting as he eased, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

His hand was already sliding into yours, your entire arm shivering in the firm shake and your eyes fixed onto his face as you realized you did recognize him. “You can call me Mr. Dyer.” He explained, “I’m an investigator for the local station, started out as security for Miskatonic actually. Like to go back every once and awhile for old time’s sake, as you saw. You must be one of the record couriers here.”

“Y-yes.” You cleared your throat, “[Y/N] [L/N] – if you can remember that.” Laughing dryly, you murmured, “I kind of fall under the radar, so I don’t blame you for not knowing who I am.”

“[Y/N], I like the sound of that.” Forced. You tried not to cringe. “How long have you worked here?”

You set the file in your hand back down beside you, and replied with a nod, “About five years now. I started as a basic courier, doing the restraining orders, T.P.O’s and all. Then moved up to the legal document transport. Mainly work within the hospitals, law firms…”

“And with Dr. Cain?” Dyer finished as you trailed off, making your relaxed countenance pull tight again, “Daniel Cain, is that right?”

You hummed at him in affirmation, “Mm hm.” You then corrected, “I wouldn’t say I work with him, but I room with him. Sometimes, we just need to discuss things if we see each other.”

“Roommates?” Dyer echoed. You nodded, and felt the word start to lose its meaning as you mirrored, “Roommates.”

He hummed pensively, “I had heard he had one other roommate already, Dr. Herbert West.” He shook his head slightly, “Didn’t know they welcomed a third in.”

You smirked, nose wrinkling slightly as you joked, “No one really knows, to be fair.”

He shrugged plainly, and sighed in an almost smug voice, “Well, now I know.” You were no longer looking at him, opening the file but only finding a warrant and some miscellaneous pages from a case from thirty years ago.

“You looking for something in here?” He questioned, and you mumbled just as quick as he had changed the subject, “Not really. Just filing something away for the ladies.” Grinning at him, he nodded solemnly and murmured, “Sure, sure…but I mean,” He pointed at the file in your hand, “You’re only going to find anything about Miskatonic either in the private records room down the hall, or back at the hospital.” Your hands started to shake against the papers, jaw loosening as you stared harder at the fruitless records. “They have copies of these records, some police reports…and if you find the hospital’s old-as-dirt copies, some of them are even unredacted.”

Your eyes widened, trying to look lost but unable to bend in a squint when he smiled at you, a gold tooth cap revealing itself on the left side of his top row. “Let me know what you find, [Y/N].” You watched him leave with cold sweat starting to press against your forehead, closing the manila folder shut as that painful lump sat in your throat.

~

Evenings were sometimes the only bearable parts of the Summer, and even though it had to be in the graveyard that sat outside of the house, you mused you’d rather be there right now than with your roommates. Not after today, the memo being handed to another hospital thanks to you and gone as soon as it had come into your terrified eye. It was where it should be, sure, but the words wrapped around your head, squeezing until your vision swam and you thought you just may cry about it.

You leaned against a headstone with your hip, minding it the best you could as you used it to hold your weight for the moment while you stared into the tree line nearby, lost in these worries. Beautiful white wildflowers were growing in by the trees closest to you, round and soft with a milky white color that almost made you feel less sick.

Dyer wanted answers, just like you did. Although, you knew involving the police was not the way to go – whether what Herbert and Dan were doing was ethical like they had said. Neither of them would like to hear you’re speaking with an investigator, just as much as said investigator didn’t like to hear you were rooming with them. Two ends of a very strange, very secretive spectrum and the knot in the middle was you. You were someone who seemed to speak to the entire world and still knew nothing. Just a fly on this fucking wall.

…Even if that’s true, you had to go back home eventually, right? Noticing the first stars appear in the sky, hanging overhead in a comforting twinkle while another lukewarm breeze blew through your hair, you sucked in a breath and finally took yourself off the stone. With aching feet but a strong nerve feeling like it was the only thing keeping you upright, you made your way back across the street.

Despite coming in quietly, you heard something drop in the kitchen and Dan immediately stood in the doorway, meeting eyes with you. He had been reading something, his thin-framed glasses being pulled from his face as he gasped, “[Y/N], where’ve you been?” He seemed to be looking at you all over, and for once you only met that attention with a testy stare straight into his eyes, “You told me you’d be home tonight.”

“I just went for a walk.” You stated plainly, “It’s not that late, I-”

“Where were you?” The voice from the other end of the room made your eyes shoot in its direction and your relaxed frown grew with purpose. A truer expression was unable to hide from the edge of Herbert’s voice as he came from the hallway. It was then, standing between the two of them, that you concurred they almost looked worried about you.

You knew lying was only going to make this worse, so you answered while your shoulders sagged, “Out at the graveyard. I’ve had a long day and needed to clear my head.” Dan looked out the window, and asked with a distant pang to his voice, “You can clear your head when you’re out there?”

“Easily.” You insisted, unable to break eye contact with the other man as he walked to stand eye to eye with you. His intensity could’ve made you flinch, but that forced trust between the two of you kept you bold, like you two could hold knives to each other’s throats if you wanted. “See anything peculiar out there?” Herbert asked, and you slowly, wordlessly shook your head.

“[Y/N] got handed a memo from work to send to other hospitals in the area.” Dan piped up again, finally taking Herbert’s eyes from yours, “About missing body parts. Strange, huh?”

“Quite.” He sniffed. You stared past him now, feeling the question tightening around your throat. Are those missing body parts in our basement right now? The presence of Dan standing right behind you pulled you back to reality once again, and you looked over your shoulder to smile slightly as he eased, “Yeah, like that place needs any more trouble. It’s been having issues since we were students.”

There was no laughter, his hands on both your shoulders in a playful wring that made you furrow your brow, another attempt to hide the awareness you knew clouded your eyes. Lucky for you, only one of them could see your expression, and he was the one that didn’t need to be enlightened that you knew something.

“Hey, you’re right. It’s still early, [Y/N].” Dan leaned over your shoulder, making you look at him again, “I picked up that wine I know you like, the one with the red bird on the label.”

“…Since when did you know I liked that one?” You cocked your head, perking up despite the day having wrung you dry. Dan shrugged, and nudged you, “Go get it, I’ll-“

“Before you two do that,” Herbert wasn’t looking at you as he pulled you and his attention back over, “I need to talk to you about something, Daniel.”

“Sure, we c-“

“Downstairs.”

A bitter laugh caught in your mouth, but you quickly shoved it down with a sharp nod, shooting him another nasty glance that Dan didn’t catch. Still, when you saw the pained glance from the corner of your eye, you shrugged with an easy voice, “Go ahead.” Wanting nothing more but to ignore any more trouble that could come and the exhaustion once again sitting as a stomachache, you tapped the taller man on the chest, “I’ll go pour us the wine, alright? Take your time, come up when you’re done.” You dared glance at Herbert one more time, “And you can join us if you’d like, Herbert.”

He gave you no eye contact, still glued to Dan with a face that you could only read as disinterest as he lied, “I’ll consider it.”

With that, you broke away from them to the kitchen, finally throwing your coat on the counter and over your sketchbook that had somehow found its way…here. Before you could give it a second thought, though, you realized that Dan had followed you in. His shadow met your shoulder before you even actually saw him, but you were already smiling all the same when you locked eyes with him.

“Hey.” He leaned in, the feeling of breath on your ear making those same bumps shoot over your arms and once again thank yourself for wearing long sleeves, “Thanks for trying to include him. It’s nice of you.” You were inches away from his face, those strings of a familiar pang that made your heart race for a different reason than it had been subjected to in the past twenty four hours pulling you closer, begging for the connection.

Instead, you feigned surprise and scoffed, “Of course.”

He pulled away again and you only smirked as he left the room, turning back to the open fridge with disappointment socking a long exhale from your mouth. A glass bottle that you couldn’t recall being there that morning caught your eye, and any ease you felt began to hole back up, gone as soon as Dan and Herbert had their backs to you.

A daring hand skimmed over its cold surface, soon taking hold of its cylinder base. You held it up to see better, knotting your brow as you could now realize something that made it almost slip out of your hand and shatter to the floor.

Even without the light from the fridge, it glowed in an unnatural bright green.

Chapter Text

“Superior vena cava. A vein that carries the blood from the brain into the top of the right atrium – located in the heart.”

You strode past a lecture well into motion, papers tucked close to your chest and eyes glued ahead; yet you listened with just as much intent as the students, lost in the diagram being painted in your head. It was rough, something you only formed based on what you thought a vein connecting across a body would look like, but all the well aware that you weren’t quite sure that it was how it truly looked. Stopping by a file cabinet in the room, you gave a brief glance over your shoulder at the doctor speaking to a small group of students, and when he only waved at you, it was enough clearance for you to start to file, sliding your missing pieces into different folders for the hospital to access should they need them.

“These are what’s known, class, as central veins. Helps blood pass between vital organs. Without this third element, these two of course wouldn’t function. An open way for blood to flow between these two are absolutely necessary – and thus must be prioritized when there are cuts near the jugular, or for similar injuries.” Entranced, you had completely paused in your paper pushing. When you heard him take a longer pause, though, you quickly closed the cabinet and hurried back out.

As soon as you had turned back into the corridor, though, you had fallen right into collision with another. You careened your body backwards, nearly lost control of the papers in the process, but when you met eyes with him your grip became iron tight, recognizing the silver wire frame of his glasses, short dark hair that was properly styled, and those scrutinizing eyes that stung similarly to the concoction you had come face to face with the night before. Much like that, you were unsure what lie beneath the surface of its color.

“Herbert.” You caught your startled posture as you greeted him, “Apologies, I was just in a hurry.” He gave you a slow look up and down, and before you could push past again, he glanced at the documents in your hand with a careful turn of his head.

“I don’t believe that those go to that room. That’s not even all-access for anyone outside the hospital.” He pointed out. You furrowed your brow, unsure if he was simply irate or furiously interested in the answer to his next question as he met your eyes again, “How did you get in there?”

You paused, but with a meek glance down the hall you hissed breath in and answered quietly, “I was given access.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You rolled your eyes and decided to flash the demeanor back as you thinly muttered, “First, I get yelled at for walking around the house I help pay rent for, and now you’re here telling me how to do my job? The one I’ve been doing for five years?” He shook his head, more confused than angry as he explained, “I’m not doing that. I just know where you need to be for those kinds of record returns, and it’s certainly not in there. You’re rather good at finding yourself in places you shouldn’t be.” When you only gave him a hollow stare, he asked, “Is that the only room you have unusual access to?”

You knotted your brow, but before either of you could keep going there was someone standing off at the other end of the corridor that made your eyes wander, looking beyond Herbert’s shoulder and feeling the wind sucked from your sails.

Dyer. You straightened up as he sauntered your way, holding the papers closer to your body and trying not to frown too obviously. Herbert was lost again, just as confused as he had been at the sight of you leaving the room, but before he could press the man approaching laughed out, “If it isn’t [Y/N]. Seems like you and I make our trips here at the same time.”

You forced a smile, seeing Herbert look to him over his shoulder as the officer strode up to stand beside the two of you. “It seems so.” You chimed, “How are you?”

“Fine, you look great today.” Jesus, not even trying to underhand it. Your smile was even more rigid as you let a painful chuckle sit in your throat. Off to your side and in the middle of it, Herbert was looking in with a face you could only describe as annoyance to a scalding degree. Luckily, it wasn’t aimed at you for a change. Dyer took note, eyes sliding over to him. You saw the twitch in his brow; he knew who the man was, but still asked with a grin and a shake of his finger, “You must be…Dr. Herbert West, right?”

“Yes.” He answered sharply, and you abruptly averted your gaze to the wall, adjusting on your feet as the discomfort surged through your body. Dyer set his hand on his hip, sounding charmed as he rambled, “Thought so, didn’t think I’d see your face around here after all the ruckus you caused back in the day. How long has it been since you were a student here now? Four, five years ago?”

“Something of that nature.” Herbert’s voice, cold and aimed to demean whoever was caught under its scrutiny, was for once the thing that helped keep you centered while in the unpleasant aura of the exchange. You stared curiously, feeling like the outsider yourself as Dyer went on, “Yes, that sounds about right. I was just a morning guard around then. We must’ve run into each other a few times.”

Herbert shook his head briefly, “I don’t believe I recall, officer…” He trailed off; his voice lost but eyes still steadfast on him. Dyer nodded, understanding the tone as he replied, “Dyer. James Dyer to you if we’re going to remove the formality. We’re all friends here, right?” He was trying to laugh it off, but a flicker of disappointment waned in his eyes as they slid back over to yours, a hazel hue making you swallow anxiously. “Anyways, you seem to be busy today? All over the place, finding papers and sorting them, what have you.” He nodded pensively, trying to make it sound interesting.

“Well,” You shrugged, “It’s easy when no one stops and asks what you’re doing.” A hard glance from the man in the middle made you bite back a chuckle, a smile crawling back over your face rather easily as the officer huffed in bemused laughter.

“That’s a slick one,” He sighed, “You’re good at those.”

“Almost as slick as your hair today, officer.” Herbert pointed out. Your eyes widened, and in a swift motion you looked down at the pages in your hands, a purse of your lips hiding the smile on your face. He took it as enough of a sign to finally turn away, but before he did, he muttered, “Oh, [little lady/buddy/my friend], remind me to meet with you here sometime next week when I’m back this way. I have something to show you.”

“Oh, and what would that be?” You hid your smile with an itch of your upper lip, avoiding eye contact with Herbert to keep from breaking. Dyer shrugged and giving one more testy glance to your friend he chirped, “Let’s call it a surprise.”

When he finally turned to walk, an honest expression fell back on your face, eyes hard as you twinged at the linger of his abrasive cologne. Herbert was now closed in on one side, staring a hole into your temple. Expecting another spout of his criticism to make you feel even more sideways, you frowned at him when you finally turned your head, but then he spoke with that same uncertain tone you had heard that night in the basement. “You’re not…”

You gave him a level stare, no longer glaring and turning your head to line up better with his so you could look him honestly in the eyes, basking in the olive green plea that you were finding before you. “What? Of course not.” You whispered, “You and I have our disagreements, but let me be clear right now-“ You pointed after the officer walking back down the hall, waving at a nurse going the same direction he was. The words came as a shudder in his ear, “I wouldn’t tell him about anything that I’ve seen – even if he asked me directly. He doesn’t call himself one, but a cop’s a cop.” You nodded at him with a clenched jaw, seeing him only stare on as you uncomfortably rocked on your heels one last time, “I made you a promise, Herbert. Now leave me to keep it.”

Before he could answer, you walked off with a throb in your head and a lingering cloud of stress so strong that you couldn’t hear anything around you outside of a foggy murmur. It was one thing to argue with a contrary roommate but preferred tenfold over the abrasive bastard.

Neither men were your friend, it seemed, but at least Herbert was honest about it.

~

This piece was coming together fast. Faster than anything you had worked on in a while.

While you had come home with a headache powerful enough to bolt you to the couch for the rest of the afternoon, watching some mindless program on the television and nursing Ibuprofen like it was going to save you from the pitfalls of life, your hands had other ideas. Using a nearby medical book that Herbert and Dan would often leave out, you were pulling inspiration in the form of some damn good references of the cardiovascular system.

The outline of the body was the easiest part with a brush-tip pen, but when you took a red colored pencil and began lightly feathering lines underneath the ink lines, drawing what you thought a pretty solid superior vena cava may look like, then peppering more around it like tree branches. Again, accuracy wasn’t important to you – the vision was, more than anything as you connected where a heart would lie in the body and trailed it up the neck, through the head…

You looked up at the TV idly droning for half a second, and he was in the doorway watching you. Flinching, you dropped your pencil as you stared up from where you were on the floor. Herbert fought a smirk, and observed, “That’s an awfully cramp place to sit.”

Fumbling with your hand for the lost pencil without looking away, you asked, “Can I help you? Usually, I don’t even know whether or not you’re alive down there. It’s nice of you to give me a sign.” He stepped around the table, and you pushed off the floor and onto the sofa, embarrassed enough to halt what you were doing entirely. You didn’t need to be anything below belt-level with him, after all, already having to still peer up from where he stood. He looked out the window, and before you could recognize he was checking for Dan’s car he asked, “Was there a memo given to you some time in the past week?”

An attitude bit you on the tongue, but you didn’t find much reason to let a lie cover you when there was already so much of it. Someone had to clear the smoke, so you replied, “Well, Dan told you I did. Why?”

“What do you know?” He asked, making you glance around the room with an uneasy breath in. He elaborated, “I have a feeling that you now think the body parts downstairs may be attributed to something along the lines.”

“Are they?” You hunched your shoulders, trying to sound tough but feeling the terror of what he could possibly answer with crawling like bile in your throat. You took another deep breath and seethed, “Dan’s covering for you, telling me you got them with permission from Miskatonic. Is that right?”

“What were you drawing?” He then asked, looking down at your closed book and noticing the way you set the colored pencil within the spine of the open medical book. You asked again, “Herbert, can you answer me? I’ve been losing sleep wondering if you’re stealing people from the hospital, and I-“

His eyes snapped back to you, that same tightly wound scowl on his face that he knew shot you down as he prodded, “Are you scared?”

Taken back by the question, you stammered, “…Sh-should I be?”

The silence made your hand brace the coffee table, trying not to latch onto the diagram you had been pulling from, scalding under the blank eyes of an illustration. They could’ve very well served as a reprieve from the way the real man was looking at you, and the way he still hesitated only made things settle on the horizon of your mind. You had to have been right in some of these assumptions, but neither of you knew how the other would sit should they be answered.

Herbert finally stated, rolling his neck slightly, “It all goes towards a cause bigger than you could even anticipate, [Y/N].”

Your eyebrows shot up again, aching from the constant furrows and releases as you clarified, “So, you are taking them without anyone’s permission…” You swallowed nervously, looking out the window with a peer over your shoulder as you hummed, “And you do know my name.”

“Your badge was on the counter.” When he tried to smile at his own admittance, you didn’t budge, hands curling against your knees to hold onto something. Herbert then cleared his throat, “I don’t think you’re scared, but maybe a better word would be curious.” He sounded unsure for once, one hand on his wrist to rub at his watch, but he moved on with it with another glance at you. “Am I wrong?”

“I mean-“

He spoke in that strict tone again, running through the list, “Whenever there’s lectures in the hall, I always find you in the same room, idly listening while merely appearing busy. I hear you ask Dan what he did during the day, and the more morbid he gets... Well, it shows in your work, in your eyes – and I didn’t miss your attention towards the basement either.” You winced, hearing him speak in an insistent way, like he knew what it all meant, like your actions ever made sense. “You aren’t afraid of these sights. Intimidated, perhaps, but like any sensible person-” He smirked again, “All it needs is a little nudge.”

Giving him a frown and a nervous rattle of your head, the smirk fell and he glared across the room. You then argued, “Look, I’m not cut out to…mess with the human body, or whatever the hell you’re suggesting. I’ve known that since I started walking the halls of hospitals, and especially now that I live with not one, but two doctors.” You scoffed at yourself, staring at the floor as your hands slipped to hang between your knees. “It’s not me.”

Herbert furrowed his brow and replied, “Nonsense, Daniel barely studied and he still managed to keep up.” The laugh slipping from your mouth even caught you off guard, but you quickly curbed yourself and scolded him, “That’s not nice. Dan told me he worked hard to get through medical school.”

“Of course he did, but not with hitting the books. Half the time, he didn’t even study when he opened them. He was too busy having his idle affairs with Meg, then other women after she passed.” Your jaw dropped, a sinking balloon that served as your heart being the realization and the question wanting to escape immediately despite the way it all caught in your throat as your brain stumbled. Dan stopped dating Meg because she died?

Dan hadn’t said a word about it, and you soon pieced together flashes of how defeated his voice had been even that week when she had come up in the idle conversation. You hid the shock by looking at your lap, eyes tracing the seams of your pants just to keep the thoughts from swallowing you into a whirlwind. Herbert insisted despite the look on your face, “Yes, I know all about it. I was there.”

You finally sighed, “Sure, but…” Looking up again, you eased, “I’m not the person you’re looking for, Herbert. Really, no one would think it a good idea if I tried to-“

“Who?” Herbert prodded, making you fall quiet. “You?” When you looked down again, he went on, “Dan?” Words wilted on your tongue, and he then took the spot next to you in a careful movement, the old sofa creaking ever so slightly. He asked like someone could hear, voice fragile in tone but not needing to be loud anyways. Not when his glasses were nearly poking against your brow.

“[Y/N], do you want to help me?”

“Herbert?”

It wasn’t you who spoke his name that time. Both of you looked up to see Dan in the doorway, having come in through the back and looking a little sick at the scene before him. You opened your mouth to answer, rushing to try and hide the conversation should he have caught anything, but Herbert was a step ahead of you. Blocking the line of sight by positioning in front of you when he stood up, he answered, “What is it, Dan?”

“I was just bringing the trash can back in, so I came from the back of the house. Did I walk in on something?” The other man asked, his thoughtful eyes diverting the blockade of Herbert and trying to read your expression. He knew you were not so keen to hide the way your hands were shaking, fidgeting against your own cuticles to pick because they had nowhere else to scratch. You shook your head at him, blinking a bit too rapidly, and Herbert backed you up, “I was asking [him/her/them] if [he/she/they] had seen an old file I had kept around the house. I think it’s just misplaced.”

He still didn’t look sure. When both of their backs were turned to retreat down the hall again, Dan already gesturing at something out of sight, you shot up and towards your quarters in the corridor across the room, parallel from the basement. It was especially enough distance tonight, and you ignored the halfhearted call of your name from Dan while you slipped out of sight without a second look back or a word that you were turning in.

That same swimming pain was back tenfold, making you cover your eyes despite your room being dark from pulled curtains. This was going to be your haven for the long night ahead.

~

Laying down didn’t do much, but you were at least a little more comfortable. Herbert had opened more doors than you could possibly close before the end of the night, and while you just wanted to drown in sleep with a duvet pulled all around your body, there was a new question rushing through your mind with every deep breath through your lungs.

Why did he care where I was today? While he hadn’t particularly shown interest in you in the beginning, the shift had to be for something. Was it all just because he liked your diagrams? Art spoke to people in different ways, sure, but he didn’t come off as the type. If anything, he only regarded it as something to use for his own means, to make better sense of his own research. It had been almost five months since you met him, and he didn’t even know your name unless it was quite literally printed over your chest. Might as well have been stapled to your fucking forehead. [Y/N] [L/N]: Remember, someone that you share a crypt-shaped house with.

Despite that, this was a night where he was so close to being honest with you. These answers you wanted were still sitting alive in your head, scratching on the walls of your skull. If he wasn’t going to give them to you, Dyer could. That’s what that surprise he mentioned earlier had to be, right?

Were you ready?

Noises coming from under the house crept up through the vents of your room, almost as though they reverberated along the floorboards. Dan and Herbert were arguing, which wasn’t uncommon but something different was laced in this time. The remnants of what you could hear made you claw to the edge of the mattress and hang your head off the side of the bed, listening to the vent under your window just a few paces away.

“I didn’t do anything to [him/her/them]. I was asking about the memo.”

“How long are we going to do this?”

“Do what, Dan? I don’t think there’s anything about the matter we should do.”

“Stop it. I can’t keep doing this. You don’t think [he/she knows / they know], do you?”

A sudden slam cut their conversation short, and you pulled your head back up and shoved it back into your pillow. Great, now I’m starting fights. There was always an odd chemistry that you wove in and out of when it came to them, but now that you were being put in the middle of a tug-of-war between having all these puzzle pieces that didn’t fit and one wrong slip from making them fit together nicely, you felt it taking a toll on the entire household. If even they had started to argue about it, there was only going to be a stranger balance should you ever be brought into the light.

Could you handle the reality of this? Could you fit in between them?

Would they let you?

You scrubbed the thought, but you knew that facing the truth was something that had to happen. Like pressure being applied against your throat, you felt that one domino just out of sight, the one truth that would send the entire visage to the floor. Everything you knew about Dan was coming unraveled, learning Meg was dead from just one mere mention that no one had ever gone to before. Even with the nature of your job, you eventually found things out about people whether you wanted to or not. The legal battles when people would pass without a will in place, the insurance discrepancies that could send people into debt, ruin lives… It took a toll on you, but it was the living you had found managed with you for the time. Even if they wouldn’t tell you themselves, you’d soon know what Herbert West had to do with that memo, and what Daniel Cain was lying to you about.

Or, You shuddered to yourself, You’d find out about the Miskatonic massacre.

You turned over in bed, closing your eyes finally and letting your body deflate into the mattress, an old stuffed animal under one arm. No one knew you still slept with one, but right now it was something to pull close to your chest, provide comfort from…

From…

Your eyes snapped open again. From the fact that the trash can never sat out by the back door.

Before you could sit up, start wondering what the fresh hell Dan had been doing coming in that way and why he looked sick even before he realized you and Herbert had been speaking privately when that had never happened in the run of you two being his roommates, you heard shoes coming down the hall. Staying put, your door opened and the blood drained from your face, settling in a puddle in the pit of your soul that made you want to hurl.

You watched from the corner of one eye, appearing as splayed out and limp as you could while a hand snuck in from the stretch of light peeking through an open door. It found your knob, turned the lock from the inside, and just as quick as it had come in slipped out and closed it again.

The vents shook with a howl, one that didn’t belong to either man and made you flinch again, wide awake despite your bones feeling like lead and a dread settling under your skin as you tried to hide in your blankets.

At least your door was locked. They had made sure of it.

Chapter Text

Human agony was a recognizable noise, something more embedded in you than anything you had actually learned, and you were sure that was what had come through the floor last night.

Still, it didn’t make the idea go down any more smoothly, even after becoming a record courier and needing to wade your way through a good portion of a hospital’s main floor while making rounds. It was more the fact it was after a night of sleeping on it that there was no other emotion discernable. While the moment had been lost to the greater sea of worries for the evening, it returned almost tenfold in the morning, ringing in your head while getting ready for another day on the street.

Street was a funny way to say a thousand different linoleum corridors, especially when you didn’t have many deliveries to pick up today. Even now, you were facing yet another instance of no outgoing documents from Miskatonic. Recognizing the disbelief and not sure how much more you could take of the impossible facing and practically looking you in the eye, you reached to your other arm, pretending to scratch before delivering a sharp pinch.

A nip of pain. Nope. This was today. You had in fact woken up this morning, and you unfortunately still had to do your job. You had spent the first twenty minutes in the clerks’ office trying to brush the stop onto someone else, praying they would give you a break that you didn’t realize you needed until you had no takers.

The only one willing to go here regularly was you. The office knew that from the moment you got clearance to do it.

When there were still no papers on your fingertips after a second reach into the document slot, you bent over to look through. The shelf served as a two-way space that opened into another office, and in times of emptiness you could see through to the other side. Your earnest expression fell as the deep brown eyes and familiar lick of a mullet was waiting on the other end. It made you straighten up just as quickly and break into as long a stride as your legs could manage down the hall towards the nearest exit. Seeing either of them was what you had worried about, especially if one of them wanted to seek you out. Most didn’t spare you a second glance unless you had something to hand over or take to another spot in the county, and in that means to an end you had forgotten that you were easy to find if anyone wanted to bother.

“[Y/N], wait-!” This time, the utterance of your name stopped you in your place. Cemented into the ground at the ring of Dan’s voice, not wanting to hear that plea that fought to rise above the chatter, capable but uncertain if it was necessary. You almost winced at it; you could tell there was a recognition that there was little he could do to change your course.

You stood off to the side in the corridor, averting eye contact with the glances of passerby. Dan pulled around the corner, and you heard his sound of relief to see you had waited. When you turned to face him, both of you began at once.

“Dan, hey-“

“I- Oh, go ahead.”

You held your breath, looking down the hall and trying to collect a semblance of what else to say. When he realized you had choked, he was the one to continue, “I was hoping I’d catch you. Did you sleep okay last night?” The pause might as well had taken your tongue, but you shook it off and replied, “Sure.”

“Oh, good.” He held the pause for another second, and when you finally looked through him with a level stare, it was almost like he flinched to it. He moved to take your shoulder, a habit that he humored but now shied from to see your body tense. With an awkward flex of his arm, he went on, “I…I could tell you were having a bad night. I’m sure we didn’t make that easier.” You only stared some more, daring him to elaborate while holding the two measly pages of records in your hands. It was a light day, after all, and the usual heavy stack was not there to weigh you down.

He awkwardly continued, “Anyways, I wanted to ask again…What are you doing tonight after work?”

Your shoe’s heel tapped on the floor, still quiet as you wondered what to say to that. You could lie and tell him you weren’t going to be there. Maybe sneak in through your window, avoid both of them while you were at it. He was stopping himself from pulling a face, reading the sight of you preparing to throw the excuse like a book. It wasn’t a thought you dwelled on, but he seemed to understand all these movements, all these expressions of yours. It was a feeling of transparency that made a grounding rock in your stomach turn, metaphorical bugs skittering through your insides from the disturbance of realizing he knew you. Your heartstrings flexed once more at the very look of him, and then grew weak as you read him all the same.

You should have known that the grudge was going to be released as soon as you had tried to hold on tight.

“Actually, nothing’s on the agenda, Dan. How come?” You finally answered, trying to take the frustration from your tone with a pained squint of your eyes. His arm had to hold something, finding the back of his neck to idly rub the muscle between his shoulders. He hummed, “I-I was wondering if we could talk.”

The anger slipped from your fingers along with any hard feelings and fell cold when they hit the ground. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight a startled hum in response. Dan’s jaw released, and he gasped, “[Y/N], it’s nothing. I just…want to touch bases with you. I…” He was stalling even more, making you nod in encouragement. Even if you weren’t ready, he had to spit it out. You had to give him that.

Dan finally sighed, “It’s not to ask you to…move out, or anything. If that’s what that face was.” You grimaced again slightly, but then felt your pulse simmer as you laughed off the remaining dread. You weren’t going to confirm that, and thankfully he gave a halfhearted grin back to laugh along. “God. God, [Y/N]. I wouldn’t do that.” He chuckled, “Could you imagine? I’d miss you too much, even if that’s what it was about.”

The giggles fell short again, and you once again had your eyes locked on him as you tried to straighten out, catching your breath and getting an ungodly amount of pressure off your body only to be replaced by the gentle flutter of butterflies trying to leave at the very ring of his voice saying those words. Miss me?

Dan could only handle the look for a few seconds, his expression once again dropping in shock as neither of you were laughing any more. Still, seeing that shine to his eyes that he only got when he gawked made you realize he had almost fallen to a level that was too honest.

The intercom jolted you from your thoughts, catching his last name and one of the thousand room names and numbers with a glance to the ceiling. “Sounds like you got a call, Dr. Cain.” You observed, eyes falling back down and trying to smile, “But sure, we can talk. I’ll see you tonight.” You then nodded at him to insist the point, “Alright?”

The poor guy still looked shaky as he replied, “Oh. Yeah, great. See you, [Y/N].”

If the pressure hadn’t been necessary to help you stay fucking sane, you would’ve avoided it. It wasn’t fun to see Dan freeze like that, especially considering he spent so much time in the emergency rooms more than getting trained to be a specialist of any type. Taking the fast lane just wasn’t his thing, and anyone who was friends with him knew that. He liked his time, whether it was speaking with a patient or even at home doing something mundane. If you had anyone to discuss it with, you’d almost want to ask if having a job where he was under pressure so much was the best spot for him.

Maybe…

Maybe you did. You couldn’t believe your own speculation as you and him parted ways again, and you tried to blink the edge from your stare as you looked around one last time. You then turned back to the exit doors and blew air through your cheeks as you picked up speed.

What you need right now is some fucking air.

~

“Hey, Dan.” You practically started your evening right off with bringing work home, something that you hated with the housemates. Then again, you pushed paper while they pushed coffins in worst case scenarios. At least, that’s what the job looked like from the outside.

“Know anything about the records kept at the hospital?” You shrugged at yourself, closing the door with a flat palm against the old chestnut colored paneling. Trotting around the furniture in the living room, you went on, “Why aren’t we getting any outgoing stuff? The ladies at the clerks’ office noticed I didn’t have anything today, and I think they’re starting to wonder if-”

You stumbled into the kitchen, coat still on one arm, and your eyes caught onto the setup on the counter. Two plates and a stout candle sitting in between was enough to hole up the thoughts, throw it all over your shoulder and out the window, letting a stunned observation take its place and produce little thought in response. Dan turned away from the stove, and neither of you remembered what you had been saying in that moment. A faint wave of déjà vu hit your mind, remembering a similar face with his hair a little shorter and clothes a little more suited for an operating room than the house you now shared with him.

“Are you looking for something in here? … Oh, you’re a courier. Hi, Daniel. Just call me Dan. You are?”

“Well, look at that. [Miss/Mr.] [Y/N] actually made it home on time.” He teased, throwing the dishrag in his hands onto the counter, “I didn’t think you’d be back until a little later.” You slowly came in, hand slapping your coat as you stammered, eyes unable to meet his as you talked, “H-here, let me go put this away. I didn’t know you’d, uh…” Swallowing the stutter, you tried to say it again, “I didn’t know you’d make dinner.” Smiling nervously as you turned back around, he replied, “Sure. You and I usually take turns, and I think it was mine this week, so…”

It wasn’t, but you weren’t about to be that guy.

As you went back down the hall, finding the closet you hung your things in at the end of the day, you gave a brief look towards the basement door. That knowing pang in your head made you frown, but nonetheless finish hanging your jacket and closing the door again. As you turned your back to it, you dared to speculate whether you’d call this a date. It was a thought that made you nearly forget how to speak all over again, treating your own home like somewhere you were merely invited inside rather than your own claim.

“Dan, I was meaning to ask…” You felt your thoughts fumble, a recollection finally making you nervously run your hands over the denim of your jeans as you stuttered, “I mean, forget it for now. You said you wanted to talk about something, right?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to check in, see if everything was alright around here.” When you only looked at him again, he elaborated, “I noticed you and Herbert have been…talking more than usual.”

The name made you painfully aware of how Dan’s dates usually went, and it took your eyes back to the doorway that lead down the hall. The other man was usually aware of what went on upstairs despite never being there, and the very sound of the two of you talking made you consider that it could pique his interest. Even if he was more keen to follow in your shadow (or take from your sketchbooks if he really felt inclined), it didn’t make him absolved of any surveillance. Meticulous knew meticulous.

Dan’s hand was on your shoulder, its rightful place at this point. Rather, it started on your upper arm and slid its way to cup where he usually took you when being friendly, or to get your attention in a gentle nudge of a movement. Your eyes caught it for a second, trying not to break out into goosebumps from the immense heat from his palm as you looked back at him with an anticipating stare.

“He’s not home.” Dan eased, “Said he’d be back later on tonight, had some work things to take care of.” You tried to breathe, not losing your train of thought to the idea that the two of you were alone, something that hadn’t happened outside of work often. The question slipped as the curiosity pressed against your chest, almost like the thought itself miraculously supplied air into your lungs. “Did you plan that on purpose?”

He tried to hide his smile, shrugging with a dip of his head, “Maybe I did.”

You faltered the laugh to keep it in your chest, grinning as you echoed, “Maybe?”

He finally smiled back, and murmured, “Possibly, even.” It was enough to finally get you to giggle, let a little bit of the noise finally touch the open air as you chuckled to yourself. Even when he had you in a position you almost couldn’t fathom, something meant to disarm you down to a lovesick mass of blood and bones, he could still make you smile.

~

“Have you been paying attention to the movie?”

Dan looked up from his lap at the sound of your voice, a gasp as he shot awake making you giggle from the other side of the couch. You recognized the groggy look on his face and realized he had absolutely fallen asleep sometime between the straight to television film being put on and now.

“No,” He admitted, stretching his shoulders, “What about you?”

“Not really, which is impressive because I’ve been awake.” You shrugged, pulling off where you had been leaning on the arm and giving your own back a stretch. You admitted, “I’ve been thinking about…this. Our little setup here.” He hummed quietly, almost like he’d shatter the atmosphere if he spoke too loudly, “Oh yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I obviously feel a little bit lost on what goes on when I’m not here. I know you two mean well, probably keep it that way for a reason, but…” You thought your next words carefully, eyes lost to the grain of the coffee table as you pointed out, “I find things out. Been delivering weird memos, got this guy breathing down my neck at the office…”

“Who?”

You answered in the form of the question, “Ever heard the name Dyer? Like, James Dyer?” Dan’s brow tightened at that, “…Not really, least from what I remember.” He mused, “I know he visits the hospital, mainly just for old time’s sake since he used to work security. That’s what I was told.”

Nodding, you only crossed your arms and explained, “He really wants me to start looking into the hospital. Ever since I delivered that memo about the body parts.” Dan’s hands clasped together, and he asked with a stunned expression, “Really? Why do you think he’s doing that?”

You only shrugged with a muddled frown. Both of you let the question hold water, but it sank the moment he inched closer to you. The couch served him no favors, creaking loudly and pulling all of your attention back on him. He asked, “You don’t think that it…has something to do with-“ When your neck straightened a bit, eyes level and unwavering to his, he froze but tried to keep going, voice somehow getting softer, “with us, do you?”

You rose your eyebrows, arms curling tighter into your chest as you replied, “I’ll ask the same thing I asked Herbert. Should I?” Dan promptly shook his head, desolate look up and down making you finally loosen your stature, hands falling into your lap. Thinking about it made that same sick anger creep in your throat, knowing he wasn’t telling you something even after letting him know his roommate wasn’t offering any favors by holding the answers just out of view, but just enough so that you knew there was a secret there.

It was the part of you that realized there had to be a decent reason to keep you in the dark that let Dan put his arm along your back, and the wordless understanding between the two of you to move to his corner of the couch in a lounge, trying to keep it chaste by keeping on one side of him rather than tangling your legs with his. It baffled the parts of you that wanted to love him, and it frightened the part of you that realized this fly on the wall was being caught in the web.

…Or flypaper. Whatever the hell the metaphor better made the man next to you in this situation.

Did that mean Herbert was a fly swatter? Instead of laughing at your own joke, the thought of him made you jolt to look over the back of the couch, peer out the window to check and make sure the man wasn’t home, or even close to a position where he could catch you like this. The last pressure point you needed was what you knew he was capable of, that airtight disdain for anyone that got in his or Dan’s way.

“Hey. [Y/N], you know what?” Dan scoffed, causing you to look at him once again with bated breath and a hand that didn’t know whether it should settle against his side but finally found its place while he shook his head at you kindly, “I really could care less what he thinks about seeing this. It’s okay.”

You finally let your head press against his side. Not heavy enough to push against him, but enough to grant the permission for his arm sliding over your back, a narrow hand settling on the crook of your neck and your tired muscles to finally slump against him. It was one last adjustment that settled you in for the rest of the awful movie.

When you had filed the last page away, you grinned back at him. “Thanks so much for helping, Dan. I try not to be a bother, but…I don’t know. I’m good at getting lost in here.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, especially when I’m around.” The tone was genuine enough to settle nicely, make you smile a little more openly rather than a display of embarrassment. It was then he cleared his throat.

“Actually, before I show you out, I have a question for you. Do you know someone looking for a roommate?”

You cocked your head at that, recalling the morning spent looking through wanted ads in the paper for something similar. Something for yourself rather than for a friend. That was when Dan shrugged, extending a hand at you in the movement.

“Are you looking?”

~

Just as low, and just as long.

You shot up in bed, bracing behind you with the heels of your hands as the vent rattled off to the side of the room. A noise not quite the same – yet akin enough to the one that had haunted you for nearly the entire day – was what made you slide your legs out from under the covers and stare at your door. With sleep still sweeping over you, you were half blind as you fumbled the rest of the sheets from your body, promptly jolted to open your eyes when another door in the house was thrown, slamming against the wall with a thud that anyone in the house would hear even in a deep sleep.

At the sound of paced footsteps, you sighed and pulled yourself to stand, making your way to the door and raising your voice. “Dan? Herbert?” You rolled your eyes when there was no response and finally turned the knob, fed up with the lack of answers where you needed them most.

“Guys, what the hell w-“ Your voice rose to a yelp, quickly dying as a hollow noise while your mouth fell shut again. Someone was standing toe to toe with you. Quite literally, a sickly colored foot nearly brushing yours as they mirrored your stance and eyes unfocused in the contrast of your dark bedroom and the light in the hallway. You almost swore you caught one of them boggle at you, but your focus was soon drawn to the lolling tongue that hung without a bottom jaw to keep it in place, blood trailed down what was left of a neck and over his bare chest.

Where was his fucking mouth?

Before you could try to act, he took hold of your shirt sleeve and pulled you from your room in a sharp fling of the arm. You hit the wall shoulder first, head knocking against it as you braced and slid against the length down the corridor, letting out a noise of struggle that grated out from your throat. The momentum had proved too much, and when the support of the wall fell away to the corner that lead into the main room, you quickly fell parallel with the ground and your legs slipped out from under you.

Hitting the ground hard, you heard the confused groan from the man as he merely shadowed you. He tried to pull you upwards again but grabbed your shirt sleeve instead of you, making your arm start to slip through as you pulled away. “Jesus Chr-!“ You flinched at the tear of fabric, tearing against your skin but leaving you stuck on the floor still. It was enough of a godsend to start scrambling on your hands and knees, attempting to round the corner of the sofa and making another terrified noise.

Words were finally slipping from your head for a moment, but when you caught Herbert in the corridor, they came back to you – or at least, as much as they could stand to fall from your mouth. Mostly, it was in the form of tight-throated sputters, beginnings of simple questions and observations. “What- What is-!? That’s-”

“Yes, I know.” You gawked at that, as well, trying to choke out the words ‘Know what!?’ It was a desperate itch that had to be swallowed as you only backpedaled away from the person, shuddering as those foggy eyes tried to stay on you, and afraid to recognize the consciousness behind the color as someone else – especially as it turned to size up the second person in the room. Another drawled, drained sound of agony that bubbled through phlegm and blood in the throat – alongside a mouth only half formed trying to move – didn’t help any attempt to ground yourself. You had to turn to look down the hall, find something else to take in while heaving breaths.

The mind found comfort in remembering a few hours ago, and you then wondered where Dan was. Before another fumbling for the reality of this situation could make you act again, you caught sight of something held behind the wall at Herbert’s side. It was a quick step forward and swing of his arm, but the sound of wood cracking against bone made you hold your head, using one sleeved and one bare arm to cover your vision.

As the room settled to that familiar, tense silence, your arms fell back to see the person was face down on the floor just as quick as he had been standing with you. “…Do either of you even play baseball?” The question was dazed, unfocused on the splatter of burgundy resting on your toenails and towards what you could see of the wooden stick in his hand. He simply held it out for you to see better and replied like there wasn’t a whole other man on the floor, “Broomstick. Don’t know where the other half of it went.”

A jerking motion, something that looked akin to rigor mortis in a cadaver, made the man turn it downwards. The broken end of the stick, jagged and able to fix into a soft enough surface did just that; you gasped aloud as it was driven into his back, through malleable enough skin. If the blow hadn’t killed him, that might’ve just finished the job. The lack of hesitation only made you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Who was that?” You tried to make your voice heavy so that he would face you, and sure enough it got Herbert to whip his head around, “[Y/N], I don’t know what you were doing awake. This didn’t concern you-”

“Who was that?” You didn’t let go of the question yet, staring hard at him while you felt the torn sleeve again with trembling hands. Running around the jagged tear of fabric, you realized there had really been nothing standing between the vicious stupor of those hands and your own body. Some bone thrown to you had stopped anything too physical, and you were barely reeling from the string of events to consider that a torn shirt was more of a win than once thought.

Although you were making eye contact with the other man, your focus was on something far beyond this reality that had unfolded faster than you could catch it. It was as though you were instead stuck facing mortality itself, the sickly feeling making itself comfortable in the pit of your stomach. It was all a realization that made practically every part of you tense up, clenching against itself to keep from falling apart, but with another deep breath you did your best to zone back in. Herbert had started speaking in the time you had let your head wander, and you were now thrown into the middle of the ramble as he kneeled down to be eye level with you, pointing at the body when appropriate.

“-He wasn’t in the right mind. Had a deadly amount of adrenaline coursing through his body, and that blow only served as the progressor to an oncoming heart attack. I took care of it, and believe me, if we didn’t kill him then he would’ve easily killed you. No contest, do you understand me?” When you looked back down the hall, catching a few idle smears of blood against the banisters and a shattered vase strewn on the ground, Herbert put his hand on your arm that still had a sleeve, pushing you against the wall you now braced to. “[Y/N]. Do you understand?” He spoke slowly, and despite trying to sound just as gruff as you had, nerves hit you in a way that made you meet eyes with him again in the way he had whined your name.

You inhaled deeply, taking the silence in with the closest thing to gratitude you could allow yourself and trying not to ask another question.

“Yes.”

~

Once again, an encounter with Herbert West was leaving you with more questions than maybe even he had answers to. If you didn’t have to be awake again in a few hours, you might’ve just sat down and made him figure it out. There would have to be a point where things needed to make sense lest you sneak out in the middle of the night, skip town with a new name and turning this whole endeavor into a brief, confusing time in your life.

Everyone had one, and while most didn’t include being manhandled by a stranger without a jaw at two in the morning followed by your roommate killing him like they would a pest, skeletons in the closet were skeletons all the same.

With your body so wound up, you had to find a way to make it relax. To render you helpless to whatever sleep still could offer and take your mind away from the recollection of almost being mauled by a man with nothing behind the eyes. Why was he here? What had he been doing with Herbert? Where the hell was Dan in all of this? Your own eyes snapped open, refusing to take the mental snapshot that flashed in your head and instead trace the dresser in front of you. A deep sigh made you push off your stomach and adjust to rest on your side.

Your arm ran itself down your body, one more wonder of there being something else besides raiding the medicine cabinet and risking another confrontation with your roommates. Roommates, and they fucking kill people. At the very least, one of them does. The thought drew raw fear out, the kind that your jaw release just to clench again, and your stomach twitched to your final resistance to the idea in your mind as your hand finally slipped down under your waistband.

You weren’t going to think about it, you reminded yourself, running your hand over the sensitive [walls/head] of your sex and closing your eyes to the feeling. A breathy hum fell into the hand that wasn’t moving, covering your mouth to keep any sound from sliding under the door, or through the vents down to where you knew someone would be if not both of them.

This was a cheap tactic, but it was tried and true. Pleasure was needed more than ever, and even if it was only temporary you welcomed it with another deep breath, finally lost in the tingle that came from stroking [within your walls/around your shaft and back]. It made you hiss into your skin, this time lost in a thought that usually worked you into a pace. The hand [rubbing tirelessly against your clit/stroking against the velvet skin of your cock] would occasionally trace back over the curve of your inner thighs, running your own fluid against the hot skin for reprieve and letting your imagination play with the idea it was someone else.

“Oh, Christ.” You were saying the same curses, feeling the same sharp emotion that invigorated you with the hope it’d make the fall all the more satisfying, as deep as your hands were working against yourself to find what made that coil turn tight. “Please, please-“ The hands running over your thighs went up for side for reassurance, a selfish comfort that made you suck in another pathetic breath as you couldn’t stop yourself from going back to your [pussy/cock] with more intention. “Yes, yes. Oh, fuck-“ Losing control of another quiet murmur, you didn’t even care in the moment, justification taking the backburner as you hit that stride that wrenched your gut and made you whimper whatever came to mind. “That’s it, oh fuck. Please, I- I can’t hold on, Dan-“

Your eyes snapped open again, but you were still working as you could barely breathe from both the pressure of your movement and what had just let itself be known to you. Still, you let it run rampant as your hips snapped, caving to the sudden urge to use free fingers on your hand to stick inside yourself. The second it pressed through, you said it again, trying to control your volume, “Fuck, Dan. Come on, please. I c-can’t, you two are going to kill me.”

The sheer terror of what had followed, the realization he wasn’t the only one driving the frustration turned into hot friction forth, made your vision white and your precipice practically blow up in your face as you panted audibly into your pillow. A rush to a truth you were struggling to deny, something just as dangerous as those two combined. It would only get harder to fight these thoughts the longer you dealt with them, and before you could consider that it wouldn’t stay in the dark, you let yourself fall into the needed sleep.

His hand had been hovering over the doorknob as soon as he had heard the first quiet plea behind the wood. Oh, Christ.

Raging heat had started to build under Dan’s sweater collar, hearing you continue with what he could only describe as a dangerous fascination. He’d already fallen into a flurry of anxiety to see the display in the living room with no one around to explain what had happened, but to hear you doing something he recognized just by the sweet hums and hilted murmurs was enough to make his thoughts fall to a measly crawl and his own erection begin to stiffen. He leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other to keep it concealed as you went on. The occasional glance behind him to make sure he wasn’t being found out also stopped as your mumbling became more fevered, more open to what you really wanted, pulling his attention like a vice.

“Oh fuck, I-I can’t hold on, Dan-“

His hand braced the doorknob again, silent as his breath hitched and he had to now use the other hand to uncomfortably adjust himself. The outline under the clothes he hadn’t even changed out of since coming home from work put him further in the position that he shouldn’t be doing this.

Then again, to hear you say his name like that was enough to make him realize those hopes he had been stuffing down in himself out of a fear of loving someone was practically clawing its way from his ribcage. He couldn’t decide what to focus on, what in specific pulled it forth: the way you dressed, how you looked at people even when on the job, and then how that expression became edgeless whenever you met eyes with him every time. He had to tell someone about it.

“You two are going to fucking kill me.” Before he could even consider what that was supposed to mean, Dan heard the muffled groan of your release, your bedframe creaking as you writhed with the force of the orgasm. It was enough to make him release the knob and walk back down the hall, trying to get the blood to return to his head before going down to the basement. If he stayed any longer, someone in the house would’ve caught him. So wrapped up in the way he practically felt the emotion holding him by the neck, he barely minded the body that no one had bothered with, nearly tripping on a leg while making a beeline for the kitchen.

He had to tell someone.

Dan paused, turning back around to the corpse, and reminding himself that there were more pressing matters at hand. He really wished it wouldn’t go hand in hand so much and looked to the corridor across from where your room was, his countenance tense for a completely different reason within the span of a few deep breaths.

“Herbert, can you give me a hand with this? Who is this guy?”

Chapter Text

“Sherman Robinson.”

You’d been speaking on the weather with a receptionist when the conversation just beyond your sight, down a hall that lead further into the local law firm, caught your ear. Attention had been a hard thing to wrangle that morning, still stuck somewhere between a puddle of blood that had been inches away from your feet and a pair of crooked glasses telling you that splintering wood through the chest cavity was something that had to happen. You let yourself trail off at a convenient time to listen.

The shared words between two attorneys weren’t even yours to focus on, appearing fixated on organizing the day’s deliveries in the lobby. The man you had initially heard spoke again, only half baffled at his own explanation. “Body just went missing from the morgue a few nights ago. The entire hospital is up in arms, and of course families are getting in contact with us, all this nonsense.”

The other one was perplexed enough for both of them. “How does a goddamn body go missing? It wasn’t accidentally cremated, miscommunication with the records?” You pointed your look at the man helping you behind the counter, but he didn’t notice. He kept pulling stock of documents that were meant for you, and finally you gave up and just stared at the counter.

“No, sir. Only thing left in the room was the bag Robinson was in.”

“…Suppose it’s an inside job?” Both of you froze at that, the man behind the counter pressing a record with a red stamp towards the top of the page and shooting you a wary look.

“They aren’t sure as of right now. This is just hearsay, but the police don’t like visiting. Not since that October.” You hid the way every muscle in your neck grew rigid, rolling it and pretending there was a draft that caught you off guard with a bothersome sneer at the air conditioning unit towards the right facing wall of the lobby. “That morgue massacre really put Essex on the map, but it also marked our hospitals as death traps.”

The other man huffed, “Well, that’s a little harsh, you think?”

His cohort snorted, “Well, maybe. All I’m saying is that if I needed a hospital, I wouldn’t step foot in Miskatonic.” The two men exchanged a dry laugh and departed, one returning to the depths of the offices and the other moseying back down the hall. You waited for another beat, then the receptionist handed you another stack of documents, the stamped one on top as you merely looked back at him with a chaste nod.

Anything to keep from looking at the familiar face paperclipped to the documents belonging to Mr. Robinson.

~

You had one more errand to run before you could get back to the clerks’ office, sitting in a hallway that for once wasn’t your favorite stop on the route. Between Miskatonic and home, you were almost eager to be anywhere else. The desperation wringing your thoughts made you let go of the papers on your lap and bury your face in your hands, laughing to keep from souring completely. Maybe it’s time I retire, turn into a desk clerk, sit with the records that don’t need to be moved any more. Let them rest.

It shouldn’t have caught you so off guard that Herbert was capable of murder, but of course it did. Even worse, it made you ask yourself whether or not Dan was, too. Even though he hadn’t been present last night, something told you that they had far too much history between each other for him to just be okay with whatever hell had crawled out of the basement and tried to get at you. He had to have seen it at some point too, been aware of the noise and the mess that you and Herbert had made; you sure didn’t clean it up and seeing how Herbert leaves the main floor of the house, you’d be shocked if he had too.

Sure, there weren’t full-blown attacks at Miskatonic like that, but from what you heard the place wasn’t immune. It made your jaw loosen and sweat began to simmer under your shirt collar, because you could now tell you really didn’t know half of it. (Remove ‘You…’)

Finally stepping out from the pathology office, an older woman stood for a beat. Spotting the lilac flats from where your eyes were glued to the floor and the exasperated expression from behind coke-bottle glasses, you perked up, rushing to shove any other thought aside and return to the present. “Marge!”

“Oh my. Like a dog begging for scraps.” She tutted, but when you still smiled and got to your feet, she sighed in an endearing gesture, “Alright, come on. Got some good ones for you today.”

Every once and awhile, Marge had been able to slide you photocopies of old X-rays, things from the medical realm that might’ve turned the wheels of inspiration. So long as you didn’t show them around, you were able to use them then quietly dispose of it when you were finished. You even did her a favor by redacting the dates and identification numbers sometimes kept in the corner. The pen you did it with sat in your back pocket, jutting out slightly whenever your shirt would ride up. Plus, it didn’t hurt to draw something less gruesome, paint a few things for her in return as well. Your relationship with her was fond, built by someone who needed a painting for her daughter’s birthday and the creative mind with morbid fascination – even if you tried to hide that from the world at large.

“It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you around here. Behaving yourself?” She asked, watching you start to slide a hand over what she had brought in. You replied warmly, “Of course. Just get hogged by the other side of the county. Always need something to go somewhere else, you know.”

“Sure, heard that old place by the river has been having run-ins with trouble again.” She paused, then asked, “How is that roommate of yours, Daniel?”

A smile spread over your face, and you answered, “He’s well.”

“And his bag of tricks?”

You stifled a laugh, knowing what she meant as you chimed, “Dr. West’s fine, too.” You shook your head, flashing your teeth in more of a twinge than an open smile now, “I’ve been busy keeping them out of trouble.” She only scoffed at that, and your eyes were pulled to a picture of a bone broken to the point it stuck in another direction, brushing the other part of it in the translucent shot through the X-ray. You pulled it closer to yourself, recognizing the feeling of not being able to quite take your eyes away without an active demand. Stop staring, at least this arm was attached to someone.

Marge finally tapped the desk, a royal purple nail being enough of a catalyst to pull you from the image. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s been talk they’ve been getting you into it.” She murmured, almost like the walls were paper thin.

Tilting your head, your eyes slowly trailed up to look at her. “Huh? What do you mean?” She clicked her tongue and scolded, “Now, not so fast, dear. I’m old but I’m not senile quite yet.” You tried to smirk, but then shrugged, “Heard through the grapevine that you and Dr. Cain are becoming pretty good friends.”

The similar silence that could’ve been broken with a pin drop in your mind, something identical from what you had felt from those two nurses made your heart skip a beat, “Oh! Marge, no.” Your throat tightened, but you still sighed, “It’s only ever been rooming with him, nothing else. We’ve had to get close just because of the shared space.”

“Uh huh.” She looked down at the desk, but quickly looked back up and made you stand a little straighter, “Not with West, either?”

You pursed your lips at that and mumbled, “No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Well, I hate to send you back across the county,” She suddenly pulled a folder out from behind her computer, opening it to peruse as she explained, “I have to get these files over to my colleague in another office. Could you be a saint and make sure it gets there?”

“Of course, it’s the least I can do. Thank you for these, Marge.” You held up the few papers you decided to take, clipped together and smiling despite your heart thundering against your chest. You glanced down at the other set she was taking from the folder and felt the ease slip along with the presence of her questions still heavy in your mind.

“Wait, Marge-” She turned to you again, coral colored frames of her glasses falling down her nose as she gave you a daunting glance, but still you asked, “Where did you say this office was?”

~

You stood with pursed lips as the sliding doors to Miskatonic opened, pulling you in like a vice you had no choice but to walk inside. Even traversing across town was no match, and something always put you back. You knew where the pathologist for this hospital was like the back of your hand, leading you with purpose. You held the paper needing to be sent to him, trying to read it while you walked.

It was concerning tissue analysis of some dead bodies that the other hospital had come into contact with, scanning the various tables on the paper with your teeth subconsciously grinding against each other, more of a calming tic than any stress you felt. Ever since you had truths startle you into deep-seated dread, most news in your hands didn’t pack the same punch. It was no Megan Halsey is actually dead or There’s zombified people in the basement.

As you slowed outside the Pathology office, you picked through the papers while reaching for the door and giving it a gentle knock, feeling people brush past you and hugging the wall within moments without realizing. A note in handwritten ink was circled underneath the computer print.

VARIOUS ORGANIC TISSUE NOT EXPERIENCING DECAY, SHOWING ATTEMPTS AT BREAK DOWN BUT NO PHYSICAL RESULTS. – DR. HILL’S WORK? THANKS GRAVES, -M.F.

Your head couldn’t help but turn at the underlined words.

Dr. Hill?

“Can I help you, [sir/ma’am]?” You snapped your head up at the man standing in the now open door, his salt and pepper facial hair hiding the slight grimace at your interest in the docs, and tired gaze understanding what you were doing by a mere glance but deciding to remain polite.

“Oh! Hello,” You greeted, extending your hand to him, “Record courier, [Y/N][L/N]. Marge from the unit across the county wanted to send you some readings.”

“I can see that. It looks like she sent me a reader while she was at it.” He huffed, but when you gave him an apologetic nod and quickly turned the pages away from yourself, he sighed, “It’s alright, just promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.” He finally shook your hand, letting you give the packet to him, “Wilbur Graves, pleasure to finally meet you, [Mr./Ms.][L/N].” He then stood to the side of the doorframe and hummed, “You can come in if you’d like, I’ve heard a bit about you.”

You squinted in a smile, one that you had to force a bit as you asked, “Really? From who?”

“Who do you think?” A voice from inside drew you in, eyes widening as you stepped from the fluorescent hallway and the miscellaneous chatter to the dark of the office. A younger nurse was dropping off some various physical samples, giving you a cheeky glance.

“Ernest, no need.” Graves tried to stop him, but he then shrugged, “What, like [he/she doesn’t / they don’t] know.” Your smile dropped again, the familiar sentence taking you back to earlier in the week with the nurses. What, you don’t know?

Apparently, you didn’t know anything, and it was starting to make you a little green with an envy that you weren’t in on this running gag everyone seemed to know of.

Green. The luminescent shade catching your skin as you crept forward startled you, making your eyes lock onto a nearby shelf in the pathology office. Just as you had with the one you had seen in the fridge back at the house, it was quickly connecting the red thread. Two places you couldn’t seem to escape and had far more things in common with each other than you could stomach.

“Dr. Carl Hill’s last invention. We…aren’t quite sure what he had intended to do with it.” Graves explained briefly, eyeing how you were frowning at the vial. You turned to look at him, biting back the urge to crumple your eyebrows and feeling as though the almost neon light still dancing over your chest and face was scalding you. He went on, “We found it in the morgue after that awful massacre. You know, the one that happened in ’85.”

Slowly, you made yourself nod and breathe out the word, “Sure.” Looking once more back at it, you then couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Carl Hill died the night of the massacre, I’m assuming?”
Graves raised his eyebrows at you, and when you held the stare with your own curious expression he replied quietly, “Yes. Along with the Dean’s daughter, Megan Halsey. I’m sure you’re familiar with her, right?” Your heart shot up into your throat, nodding calmly despite the information pulling another familiarity into the mix. Everything had so much more convolution than you were anticipating, mixing into a mess that now stared at the back of your head with a toxic color.

He chuckled, “That is actually why I’ve invited you in, [Mr./Ms.][L/N]. Perhaps your boyfriend, Dr. Cain, could-” Your gaze snapped over to him, meeting his eyes and trying not to let anger slip into your voice as you corrected, “I’m not dating Daniel Cain.”

Graves prodded, “Oh. You’re not?” Seeing him inhale, you then added in the same breath, “Or Herbert West.”

“You’re not?” Ernest spoke up again, making you give him an exasperated frown, but you shook your head once more. Even to yourself, fawning at the mere tease of the thought.

“Well, even if you don’t date, you do live with them. Is that true?” Graves asked, and you merely nodded with the same movement of your jaw from before; this time, with more purpose that made your temples move from the ferocity. He slowly asked, “Do you…know what part they played in the massacre?”

“…Did they play a part?” You breathed, eyes widening along with the inability to hide the way your entire voice fell through space at the mere realization.

The brash ring of the phone from the other room startled you out of the tunnel vision. Graves frowned hard but immediately excused himself. You tried to ignore it, looking at the memo you were handing off sitting on the desk in front of you. Ernest was still in the room, giving you that same smug expression.

“So, is someone saying I’m sleeping with those two? That’s the third time this week I’ve heard someone give me crap.” You asked, and he shrugged, “Dunno. Just heard Cain talking about you the other day. Made it sound like you two had something going on.”

“What did Dan- shit, what did Dr. Cain say?” You and him both laughed, and you took the moment to idly walk closer to the shelf on the wall, letting your hand meander behind your back while holding eye contact. Ernest shrugged, looking towards the door and making it easy to take the bottle with a clammy hand.

“He just said you two were growing close, how great you’ve been keeping things in order back at their digs. Wouldn’t stop talking about your eyes, either.” You were only half-listening, the latter of your attention thumping around your head as you tried to stop the glass from tapping against the metal shelf. He then looked at you, and you only pulled a flustered expression as he commented, “They’re just some shade of [y/e/c], so guess I’m not the intended audience for that one.”

You rolled those special eyes of yours, and then sighed, “Well, I can tell you right now that we aren’t anything outside of roommates.” Ernest scoffed, “Yeah, okay. If not you, then he’s definitely got it for West. You see how they look at each other, right?”

“Oh, sure.” You answered half-joking, but then stopped yourself and sighed, “I mean…I’ve said it before, but if they’re dating that’s none of our business – mine or yours.” Part of you meant that as you finally took your turn to leave with the glass in your bag, covered with your jacket to keep it concealed, “Tell Graves I had to get back to the clerks’ office, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll say hi to your boyfriends for ya, too.” He called, and you knew he could imagine the look on your face as he laughed from behind the door swinging shut.

You shoved the vial lower and lower into the bag, a godsend that you had brought in with you since you had a heavier stack of documents today. Kept around your shoulder, you checked the zippers, the latches, and when you were sure it was shut your eyes pointed towards the doors again. Hate to walk through them, love to barrel out-

“[Y/N].” A voice that sounded as though it had been right next to your ear almost sent you tripping into a row of chairs in the lobby, gasping as you turned and recognized his tone before seeing him fully. “Jesus, Herbert-“

“Pathology.” He merely spoke the word, and you almost rolled your eyes. It wasn’t a big deal he had noticed, but you knew it looked suspect to even him. Especially him. You recalled the way he looked at you when he saw how Dyer had spoken to you, that insecurity of the wrong slip of your tongue making him prone to just nitpick your every move. You weren’t Dan, after all, and he didn’t know what part you were intending to play in whatever the hell he was doing. Still, you smoothed the front of your clothes down, feeling the weight of your bag against your thigh.

“Yes. I have something to tell you when I get home today.” Your eyes scanned the space around you, and his brow released as you lowered your voice, “I…really can’t show you right now.” His eyes then truly focused in, not listening because he had to but now because he wanted to. “Is that so? What is it?”

“I can’t.” Your hand gripped your bag and you repeated yourself. “Trust me.”

Another pause, looking you up and down. “Well, can you at least tell me what’s with the incredulous look on your face?”

“I-“ Your expression flushed, the prodding once again cracking your eggshell-thin demeanor, “I found something in Pathology, and I’m about to walk out with it. It’s something I’ve seen at home, and I think it belongs…to you.” Speaking slowly was the only way you could express uncertainty in your own words, but you cleared your throat and went on, “What you keep in the fridge, I think you know what I’m talking about. I…I want answers.”

He blinked, short-lived anxiety through the hard brow suddenly lifting. He almost sounded charmed, and rocked on his heels slightly as he huffed, “Answers? [Y/N], why didn’t you just say that?”

“Hey, there’s trouble and more trouble.” You gave one last look to the door when you heard Dan’s voice, and as he came to greet you, you tried to take a playful tone. “Alright, you two have to have a job to do right now. I’m getting anxious just watching two doctors talk with their perfectly healthy roommate.”

“What, can’t have a second to chat?” Dan joked, and you smiled back a little in a lighthearted forfeit. You crossed your arms and then asked, “Hey, wait. Who’s trouble and who’s more trouble in this equation?”

Dan froze, then pointed at you and named, “Trouble.” His finger swiveled to point at Herbert, and maybe had two seconds of another pause before the man scoffed, “Oh, right. I wasn’t the one just using [his/her/their] card to get into Pathology – as a meagre paper pusher, mind you.”

“Graves let me in. I had a reason to be there.” You corrected, trying not to look at Dan with your old shade of [y/e/c] eyes, hiding the smile threatening to smack everyone in the three-sided crowd silly. Herbert only gave an expression of half belief while Dan simply cocked his head at you, both a little lost but none the wiser to tell you.

~

You weren’t sure if they had gotten home before you or not, but either way something was keeping you glued to the counter. For once, you didn’t want to quell your interest in everyday life around this morgue.

Perched on a stool, you stared at the vial across from you. Still luminescent, still hard to tell what the hell it was supposed to do. Was it thick like a syrup? Frothy like a beer? What would happen if I shook it? You wrinkled your nose at the idea, trying to see the consistency from where you were sitting.

A loud bang from the basement answered your original question. Dan’s voice scathed through the wall.

“I can’t mess this up.”

Herbert immediately retorted, “Mess it up? You’re practically drooling outside the bedroom door every other night! the only thing being messed up is our work before [Y/N] came here.”

The sound of your name made you turn your head, hand encircling the bottle as you finally hopped off the stool, slowly approaching the sound of the argument coming from downstairs.

“Herbert, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. You’re not hiding anything, Dan.”

A loud slam made you press your palm into the door, clutching the vial to your chest as you hesitated. He didn’t hit him, You immediately assured yourself, aware it was in vain but utterly horrified at the idea alone, trying to muster the will to push through. It only immobilized you again, clasped by the terror of wanting to remain in a position where you couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t.

Another slam, this time with more shifting afterwards, someone’s shoes squeaking on the floor. It didn’t sound like the wall this time, but rather furniture being pushed against the ground with movement. Your jaw dropped, and the vial now rested against your chest as you almost fell limp. Leaned against the wall, you heard a low sigh, an exasperated huff. Someone even uttered, “Damn you,” but it was hard to tell which one of them had said it. It was like the fight had been solved in mere seconds, and soon you were recognizing what it was.

A careful creak, and finally a third slam.

Then another.

And another.

“Damn you.” This time, it was very clear who was speaking, the reveling edge of Herbert’s tone something you had heard in a very different context before. You then realized that you had to leave it alone, rushing back down the hall.

Chapter Text

He was starting to get déjà vu from what he saw: three friends in the lobby of a hospital, two in white coats and one holding a stack of papers. Every time he seemed to stumble on it, the moods were shifting. Less stiff upper lips, blank glances when one of the others talked. This time, everyone stood a little bit closer together. One of them even laughed.

The courier’s lips turned upwards as [he/she/they] looked away from the man on [his/her/their] right, and he could almost hear the scoff under [his/her/their] breath that came out in the form of a jerk of [his/her/their] body, finally opening their mouth to speak to the taller man on the left.

“Dan, can you believe that?”

“Well, you’ve been staring at those three for long enough.” Graves idled down the hall, seeing Dyer turn with an expression of stale bemusement. The officer shook his head as he muttered, “I don’t know what to make of [Y/N]. [He/she’s / They’re] still friends with those two after everything I’ve been trying to get at. We can’t talk about it out loud, but I mean… [Y/N] lives with them, and can’t sense that murderous intent?” Graves furrowed his brow as Dyer continued, “The unattainable urges coming off them?” He gave Dan another stare, seeing how he looked down at the courier with a fond smirk, hands in his pockets as he fawned over them continuing to laugh at a joke that had long passed the moment. He corrected himself, “Off of West, anyways.”

The pathologist gave him a doubtful huff, but the man went on, “I mean that, they were caught doing unspeakable things here, and now thanks to a few redacted notes they have jobs again after a short stint in Peru. If only [he/she/they] had any idea what West and Cain were capable of. What atrocities probably take place in that house they all share, and somehow [he’s/she’s / they’re] none the wiser.”

“I saw you eating peanut butter straight out of the jar last night. Care to explain yourself?” You looked up from the papers in your arm, seeing Dan give that look that was half joking and half serious in his interrogation. Before you could even consider changing the subject, you sniffed dryly, “Oh yeah? When would you have seen me do that?”

Herbert spoke almost like he was reimagining it, watching movement in the lobby rather than zeroing in on you; that was what Dan seemed to be there for. “2 AM. We both saw you do it, so don’t try to play the hypothetical.”

You started squinting at the taller of them with returned eye contact, “Well, what were you guys doing up so late?” Dan ignored the question and muttered quietly, keeping it gentle with the tone despite nitpicking, “That jar was bought for everyone in the house. Not just for you to eat plain at ungodly hours.” You stifled another wince, trying to keep your expression relaxed while Herbert chastised in your other ear, “You didn’t even look like you were awake while doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, then slowly asked, “…Have you also been eating the-“

“No, we haven’t been eating the peanut butter, [Y/N].” Dan interrupted you, shaking his head while you cringed at his tone, but he finally smirked in a way like he couldn’t believe what he was saying while you merely bit back laughter, glancing between him and the other one as everyone finally just let the subject go, the humor in it coming as a quaint comfort. Normalcy felt like a good fit, even when temporary – and over a rather embarrassing habit of yours on top of that.

~

It was strange to have a quiet night at the house where not only Dan was upstairs sharing the space with you, but Herbert as well. They both took the sofa, the mess of textbooks splayed out on the coffee table while you were in the chair on the other side of the living room, stretched out with your back against one arm and your legs dangling over the other. Unconventional, but in character, as Herbert had observed aloud when he came to join you.

It would’ve put you on edge to be with them for reasons relating to their research if you weren’t sidetracked from what you had nearly walked in on the night before. Still, it didn’t really change much about your feelings towards either of them the more you thought about it. Herbert still scared the hell out of you, and Dan… well, he was Dan. You couldn’t bring yourself to be cold with him, even if he was having something under wraps while making advances with you simultaneously. Again, the ability anything had to surprise you was drawing thinner and thinner in each passing day.

The relationship did make what was between the two of you confusing, though. You had spent all of the last few weeks considering your feelings for him, but now you were just lost on it as a whole once again. Even sitting there, you figured that keeping not just him, but both of them at arm’s length was more of a necessary tactic than something you wanted to do.

Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t socialize. The house was definitely big enough for the three of you, and avoiding each other would be another battle. Plus, gave you a decent alibi with them: stay in sight, no need for constant interrogations on who you were talking to or where you could’ve gone. At least, in your own head it all made sense. Enough to keep you idly drawing while a fierce wind blew outside, clouds hiding a nearly full moon and making the world appear dark beyond the porch of what once was a mortuary.

What were you supposed to do about the little that you understood about these two? Tell someone? Hide out in your bedroom all day? The reality of what went on behind closed doors – both regarding the mystery of the missing body parts and the mystery of Dan and Herbert – were Dan and Herbert’s burden to bear, and not yours if you could manage that much.

“Oh, by the way,” You took the scissors sitting under your sketchbook, starting to shear out one of your pages, “Herbert, I redrew a diagram from your notebook that you left out the other day. Might as well just give it to you now so I don’t find my things in the basement again.” He gave you a surprised glance from over the book as you leaned slightly from the chair, tossing the sheet you had just severed onto the coffee table. Both men’s eyes settled with it, and Dan’s expression solidified with a light, petrified clench of his jaw as he murmured, “You drew that?”

“I can only stare at the pictures you two have laying around so much before wanting to take inspiration.” You scoffed as Herbert held up the page, mulling over it. “If anyone would understand that I’d think it’d be you two.”

“[Y/N], that’s really well done and all, but you shouldn’t be-“ Dan began, and Herbert suddenly cut him off, “It’s good.” It made you smirk a little, heat blanketing your face as he continued to stare, and even observed, “You have a remarkable handle on anatomy despite not being in the profession, [Y/N].” Dan gave you another bothered glance, and you shrugged at him. Part of you just wanted to spit it out, I’m doing my best to make myself useful around here, but you saved it as Herbert then set it down and asked, “If I gave you another, would you…?”

Perking up again, you inhaled to answer and Dan was now interrupting, “Maybe another time. [Y/N] has other projects she’s working on.” He paused, giving you another look. “Right?”

“…Right.” You once again gave the hold both of them had on your attention slack, and sat back in your position on the chair, its arm digging into your spine as you shifted your eyes back down to see you had idly began trimming another page. The eyeball that you had drawn was perfectly sheared down the middle, two halves of the pupil staring up at you from your book and the other from the coffee table in silent question.

~

“And then I tell them, That arrest record was nulled before I was born. How the hell could I get it for you? What do I look like, the necromancer of paperwork!?” You joked to the receptionist, smiling as they snickered in reply. Little things were what made you able to traverse the days, even though sleep was dwindling down to a few hours a night. The rest of those long hours between sunset and sunrise were devoted to listening to the house settle and tearing your own idea of your roommates apart in your mind’s apparitions of them rather than try to find solace in a quiet room without the hints of human agony and confused fighting seeping through the vents.

A nurse suddenly stopped in front of you and the counter, half in a hurry but willing to pause on her route to ask a question. “Hey, do either of you have your key card on you? I left mine back in the main offices on the fourth floor, need to get into a room down here.”

 “Oh, absolutely. Here, le-“ You had pulled out your ID card from its usual home in your shirt’s pocket, giving it a split second scan before dropping it back in while neither of them had the chance to see it emerge. “Huh, I-I…I might not actually have it.” You then lied in the same breath, hand slapping your chest in a fabricated search for it, “Sorry, ma’am.”

The nurse huffed, “Darn, really? Well, no big deal. Thanks.” As she trotted off, already asking someone else for help and leaving your saccharine expression to wither, you turned to look down the hall as though what you wanted to scorn would come striding your way at the mere glance.

Not today, though, leaving you to vent your frustration in the form of a tedious sigh and a walk along to the doors. It wasn’t even a panicked sort of realization that he had taken something from you anymore, and rather you jumped right to where it could be. Something was starting to erode in your headspace from the constant worry, the knowledge you wished you didn’t have, and what took its place was beginning to get a clue.

You jiggled the handle to the basement door, the usual inability to turn failing you as your eyes widened and the door started to move. When it wasn’t in the usual state of eternally locked, it was rather loose and quick to hinge inwards. Before taking another step forward, you called down the stairs, “Herbert? Dan?”

When nothing came back up, not even a sound that indicated someone was there, you looked back down the hall and paused to listen in towards the kitchen and living room. When there wasn’t anything besides a single bird calls from outside the walls, you finally slipped past the doorframe and took the first step downwards.

You couldn’t remember which intestine this was from your plethora of anatomy classes that you had back in grade school. Speculating casually was the only way you could keep your screams to yourself, almost holding your breath as you felt the sweat start to bead against your forehead and really processed that it was a human-sized organ sitting out in the open. First the arm, then the…guy, and now this. It wasn’t necessarily worse than what you had faced previously, but still not a discovery that made you feel fuzzy on the inside.

“[Y/N].” Your body started to turn towards the voice before your eyes could take themselves from the table, but finally you sent a wary expression up at Herbert as he stood at the top of the stairs, watching you remain silent and not try to evade him or what you had walked into.

You should’ve been terrified. Ignoring the way the organ gleamed under the faulty lights made your stomach flip, you then turned your body to fully face the man and crossed your arms. “Something of mine is missing. I assumed it would be here.” You murmured, your voice somehow remaining stern despite the sickly waiver coming in and out. Herbert replied, “What are you talking about?” He didn’t look away as he finished traversing down the stairs, eyeing the scene just behind you once before fixating back onto you, “I can’t believe I’m asking this again, but how did you get down here?”

You shrugged, struggling to trust the sound of your own answer: “Someone left the door unlocked. Usually, I need a special clearance to find myself in a place I shouldn’t be, but…” You trailed off, being the first to look away from him now as you went on, “My work I.D. went missing.”

“Are you accusing me of taking it?” Herbert asked without missing a beat, and your jaw slacked under your pursed lips. You hadn’t even said anything yet, and it was all you needed to hear as you uncrossed your arms, fingers worming into your shirt pocket to pull out the card you had laid eyes on earlier.

“I have reason to believe so.” You simply stated, holding the I.D. between your index and middle fingers so he could see his own disgruntled photo staring back at him. “Any reason we’re playing games today, Dr. West?”

He glared at the use of the title, making you bite back a grin as you held it out to him. Still an island away, the space between where he stood at the foot of the steps and where you remained by the metal table was an eternity of a wavering silence. One that wouldn’t last, and sure didn’t sit soundly between your tight gaze and his smothering glare. He took the card with a quick sleight of hand, careful not to ghost over your own fingers while doing so. Even you pulled your hand back a little too quickly when releasing your grip, still looking on expectantly.

“You have an abnormal amount of access to the hospital. It was necessary to a greater interest.” He stated, as if that would even be close to touch the surface of what you were trying to fathom. You stepped a half inch to the side, body turning halfway between him and the organ before the both of you. “This was the greater interest?” You clarified, and he merely rolled his eyes.

Like a snake rearing to strike, he then stood a little taller and scrutinized, “You wouldn’t understand, and I don’t know why I thought you would.” Although you had felt that comment, you let it bounce off of you for the time, eyes trailing down before catching on the innards one last time. Part of you suddenly shot forward in the form of words, chin tipping back up. “Well, I’m more than willing to stay out of it,” You agreed, ignoring a twilight of disappointment that shone through a sour frown and a slight tilt of his head. You then insisted, “but despite that, I’m not leaving without getting that key card back.” You scoffed, “You seem to have forgotten that I spend so much time at Miskatonic, it’s practically an asset to my commute.”

He then asked, “What are you going to do with such an extensive authority to the hospital?” You replied, “Nothing, I just do what I need to-”

“Liar.”

Your eyes snapped wide at the interruption, “You’re the liar!” You turned back around, and feeling the anger crawling in your throat you asked, “W-whose guts are these? Sherman Robinson’s? The body that came walking up these fucking stairs a couple nights ago?” You pointed to the staircase again, “The missing cadaver from the hospital that you and Dan supposedly know nothing about?”

Herbert didn’t waiver as you stepped closer, almost nose to nose as you added, “I might show up where I shouldn’t sometimes, but you’ve been the one taking my notebooks…my key cards, my work.” You laughed, “And the last I checked, I haven’t laid a damn finger on any of your stolen body parts unless I needed to stop it from trying to tear me a new one. The most I’ve done is…” You stopped, then recalled with a slightly horrified ring to your voice, “…Bring that vial home from Pathology.”

Herbert’s stare became less abrasive, watching you start to falter in your fury. You finally swallowed the distaste in your tone and repeated, “Look. I do apologize for intruding, but I had my reasons. Just give me the key card back. I…I’ll leave you to your business, you can-“

“[Y/N], how can either of us deny your interest? You said that you wanted answers.” The venom was absent from his tone now, and you once again met eyes with him, any arrogance slipping down the drain of your disposition in place of the standard unassuming muteness. He tipped his head, gesturing towards the table, “Here. Everything you’ve been wanting to know is right here if only you took a second to really look.” You were locked in place for another pause as he turned, but he didn’t start to walk until you followed, staring over his shoulder as you motioned to move.

You stood on one side, the one with the most distance from the intestine. He eyed it, like you weren’t even there watching as he then moved towards a bag sitting on a stool towards the back of the room. There were a few different areas of the basement, ones you hadn’t even begun to look into. Usually, what you saw on the first side of the room was enough for you. Your eyes flickered to the stairs, wondering if you’d ever leave but then disregarding the thought when a neon flash of green caught your eyes.

“This is what gives me the leeway. The essence of kinetic energy, enough proteins to disturb even the deepest of our eternal sleep.” Herbert explained, the vial in one hand and a syringe in another. He stuck the needle into the thin cap, and the light moved from one vessel to the other.

Your brow furrowed, shook from the pressure as you looked from what he was doing to his face again. “Well, what are you going to do?” You asked.

Herbert gave you a careful look, chin tipped towards the table as he pointed the needle towards the intestine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His eyes then darted behind you, and before you could turn an iron grip going around your torso scared you into mustering the energy to breathe, and you did so in a gutted yelp, “Dan-!”

He didn’t answer, only hoisting you to walk backwards and up the stairs again. “Goddamn it, Herbert, I told you-“ He spoke between grappling you, doing your best to keep up with where he wanted you to walk with a glance over your shoulder, “Not to bring [him/her/them]- Into this-“ He turned his body, swiveling you like a ragdoll and making your feet knock against the stairs. You cried, “Ow, hey-!“

He set you on your feet, knees wobbling as you gained your balance. “[Y/N]-” He attempted to speak to you now but lost his words as you braced the wall in front of you, pulling back from him with wide eyes.

Both of you were silent, staring into each other’s ghastly expressions. It was home, it was solidarity; the feelings you got from his shivering exhale was enough to make you plead, “How many times will I have to ask you what’s going on down there?” You couldn’t help the next question, Dan trying to talk but being drowned out by the utter shock in your voice, “Is that what the hospital doesn’t want to talk about?”

“A mishandling of it is what they won’t speak of. Not done by me, nor by Dan, mind you.” Herbert answered, stepping out from the dark and closing the basement door behind him. He shot an irritated glance at the other man, “We have a much better understanding of it now. Having done more trials, I’ve spent most of my time not at work working towards something more docile, manageable.”

“It will never be manageable, Herbert!” Dan yelled, throwing an arm at the door and becoming irate, “You’ve been working with the re-agent for goddamn years at this point and it’s always been this…big, violent mess!”

Re-agent, you mouthed with a long look at the door. The words were there, pulling forth the definitions but not cultivating any sort of sense. That green serum was an agent for…Rejuvenating? Repurposing? The word was on the tip of your tongue, but you were pulled back in with Dan turning towards you again.

“[Y/N], I don’t tell you this to keep you in the dark, or to confuse you, alright? I tell you this to protect us- You.” Herbert and you both caught that, gnawing on your bottom lip to repress the look of disbelief you wanted to pull as he stammered, “You don’t know what kind of damage that research can do to someone, believe me. I’ve been…helping Herbert for awhile now, and it’s-“

“What, damaged you?” Herbert scoffed, “You’ve been just as ingrained within this work and mad for the truths of the re-agent as I have, Daniel.” Dan gave him a signal with his face, one you missed as he turned away from you, but guessing from the way it silenced the other man you figured it wasn’t nice.

He turned back to you, and lowered his voice, “It’s confusing, and I’ve seen it hurt people before. People who…don’t know what to do with the findings, and i-it’s…torn things apart.” He looked you straight in the eyes, almost gutting you as he then repeated himself, “Torn people apart.”

You felt the posture of the man standing beside him change again, just like it had when you had spoken about Pathology. Before anything else could be said, Dan turned for the living room, walked straight through and out of sight.

Herbert skimmed by at a slower pace, and you averted his stare until he finally held your card out. Silent, you took it, not caring that your clammy hands had slid past his fingertips while doing so this time. He uncomfortably straightened his posture, but caused you to look up again as he assured you, “He’s seen a lot in our trials, [Y/N]. You did nothing wrong in simply being curious.”

As he left you with that and also walked down the hall, you leaned against the wallpaper to your back and stared at the basement door. You slid the I.D. card into your pocket, and with a deep breath went to the closet where you hung your coat.

You weren’t upset, but something had snapped with how messy Dan’s insistence had been. He didn’t want to tell you? He didn’t let Herbert tell you? That was how it was going to be, and although it hurt more than you had once anticipated it would when it came down to it, you found that you could live with that – but you couldn’t live with being so goddamn confused any more.

Lucky for you, answers were easy to find for someone who pushed the papers.

~

A part of you felt as though you were betraying everything you had stood for up until now, the very notion that you had left without telling either of them enough of a nonverbal betrayal to signal to them you were not to be trusted from this night on, but you pressed the worry down as you walked the halls of Miskatonic. You were off the clock, and here at a time when both Dan and Herbert weren’t, but you knew who was.

He was slimy, he gave you all sorts of pins and needles with how he spoke…but he could be of use after what you had nearly seen. Dyer was in the lobby, speaking to a doctor with a hand resting on his hip as he spoke with that smirk that sent a nasty rush down your spine. When he saw you standing on the other side of the waiting room, he nearly lit up. “Courier, never thought I’d see you here after hours. Must have gotten the guts to come looking for something.”

Bile pricked your throat at that choice of word, but you remained stock still as he supposed, “I’m guessing Cain and West are giving you the ol’ smoke and mirrors, not telling you what they’ve done or what they could do?”

You didn’t answer that, uncomfortably swallowing as you reminded him, “You said you had something to show me.”

His grin fell, and he swooned in a relieved tone, “Atta [boy/girl/do it].” He walked to the closest corridor, and with a slide of his own keycard opened the door to Pathology for you, letting you step into the dark room before closing it behind the both of you.

“Sure Graves won’t mind us in here.” He assured you, but it brought nothing of the sort to your throbbing headache.

Chapter Text

“So, tell me this.” You watched the officer open an old box labeled OCTOBER 1985 (COPY), sifting through a couple folders as you asked, “Why does Miskatonic have unredacted police records just laying around?”

Dyer replied, “It’s tricky. They got special clearance to hold onto evidence, as well. If you ask anyone here, they either weren’t working at the time, or they’ve signed a shit ton of NDAs. If what really happened at that bloodbath ever left these walls, or the walls of you paperboys holding onto the redacted versions… [Y/N], no one here would have a job anymore.”

You crossed your arms, glancing around to see no sign of Graves or even another staff member. The officer hadn’t even turned on the light, but just as you prepared to do it yourself, he found a light switch with the hand that wasn’t holding the folder he had finally tracked down.

“Here she is.” He held it out to you, almost eager in his grimacing flash of teeth that you supposed was a smile. You hesitated, giving him a single look of uncertainty before unfolding your arms and clasping your fingers around the worn paper.

“Herbert.” Dan rushed to the top of the stairs, throwing the door open. The man had been looking at one of the drawings done for him, quickly closing the book when he heard the urgency in his assistant’s voice. “[Y/N] isn’t here. I-I went to go see if [he/she was / they were] alright, maybe…maybe try to talk to [him/her/them] about everything,” Herbert’s eyes traced over him before jumping back up to his face, and Dan stammered through the overgrown garden of thoughts, “And…[he/she’s / they’re] gone. [His/her/their] jacket isn’t in the closet, and [His/her/their] car isn’t on the street.”

“…Well, they probably just needed the space to do some critical thinking. [Y/N] gets overwhelmed rather easily, if you haven’t noticed.” He brushed it off, but he wasn’t fooling Dan as he responded, “You know [he/she/they] have no idea what to think of us anymore, we’ve screwed this up. I’ve screwed it up by not telling them. What do you think…[he/she thinks / they think]?” Dan pressed his hand to his forehead, as if to try and physically stop the dams from breaking in his mind, “What if [he/she’s / they’ve] gone to tell someone? What if we just-“

“Dan, [Y/N] made me a promise.” Herbert interrupted, and he gave himself an unsure frown, hands clasping to the table behind him, “I know we can’t expect it to be kept by someone so naïve, and I can only try to find the faith that [he/she/they] is too scared to do it. Besides, who’d believe [him/her/them] if [he/she/they] went out there, ran [his/her/their] mouth on our otherwise impossible research? All recollections of that night have been scrubbed, and the world has never seen the likes of what we’re achieving.”

Dan furrowed his brow, “…[Y/N] made a promise to what?”

Herbert tipped his chin at him, almost smug in his answer. “To take everything to the grave, ideally.”

“Bogus.” You breathed, flipping a stapled page over because you couldn’t stomach what you were seeing. Dyer was leaning on a nearby metal shelf in the office, relishing in you scanning the documents, and to your quiet spat he crooned, “Whatcha see, sweets?”

You suppressed a disgusted face and muttered, “All of these death records have…they have discrepancies.” You slapped the back of your hand on the packet and scoffed, “This is a falsified record. Probably redacted it because it makes no sense to anyone who reads them for a living. I’ve been doing it for years, and it’s chicken scratch if you ask me. They didn’t even type the corrections! It’s all done in…ballpoint pen.”

“That’s the thing, kid. It’s not bogus.” He insisted, smile fading and eyes gleaming to you in the depths of the dim light. You couldn’t stop the bitter laughter, finally smiling and nodding in a sarcastic ferocity, “Oh, okay. There’s two dates and times of death for everyone on this list of casualties, officer. Are you telling me these people died twice?”

Dyer held the silence, and you felt your stomach knot suddenly as he reached over and flipped the page. “This is the honest report, [Y/N]. In your offices, it’s redacted to the point of illegibility, but before you throw it to the wind – how ‘bout you tell me whose names are on these pages.” His finger tapped the paper, and with a final huff your eyes tore away from him, beginning to skim.

Daniel Cain’s statement illustrates that one of the cadavers, having been brought back to life from unforeseen circumstances, had put their hands around Megan Halsey’s throat. She was dead within the hour of the report from asphyxiation, and Cain had claimed to attempt to resuscitate her to no success. Fingerprints prove that Cain did not cause Halsey’s death. This is noted to be odd since there were multiple resurrections throughout the evening. This has yet to be investigated.

You could’ve heard a pin drop, the zipper of your jacket clicking as you sucked in a breath, but you kept going.

A Dr. Carl Hill’s head was found underneath a table in the morgue where the beginnings of the incident conspired. Evidence taken from the back of the body part reveal Herbert West’s fingerprints left on the scene. Will follow up: cause of decapitation still uncertain.

Your heart sank down, almost felt as though it was falling from your ribcage, dripping and shivering on the floor but unable to keep you from continuing. Like a car crash, you couldn’t stop; even as your might snapped like a spring, lip quivering as you flipped to the next page and you had to strain through tears.

West was one of two survivors in the situation alongside Cain, and these two are the only subjects that had not been affected by the massacre besides minor injuries. Neither of them will go into detail as to how they were able to perform so many resuscitations of the listed victims. Will follow up.

“What the fuck,” You whimpered, a tremoring hand covering your mouth.

“Sorry you had to find out this way, [little lady/sport].” He sighed, “You know, if those two were anything close to good people,” You cringed as he clarified, “And if they cared about you, they would’ve told you.” You tried to glare at him through your contorted face, but only shook your head and hid your chin in the crook of your sleeve for a moment.

Handing him the record, Dyer pat your shoulder. “It was an awful night for all of us.” He muttered, “Consider yourself [a lucky man/woman / lucky] that you didn’t have to see it for yourself.”

Caught in the whirlwind, you felt anything but.

~

For once, you didn’t try to keep your presence unbeknownst to the rest of the household. You pushed the door open, let it slowly screech from the aged hinges, stepping in unapologetically with wet boots and reddened eyes glaring around the dark.

You immediately caught sight of someone sitting in the living room, rigid in the armchair and waiting for this moment like he knew it would happen. “[Y/N]-“

“Dan.” You said his name in a voice you once couldn’t imagine even holding up to his warmth until now, “I think we need to talk about this living situation.”

“Where did you go?” He tried to divert, turning the light on when he stood, voice as fragile as it always was when in the mere sight of you. Dyer had gone through the liberty of photocopying everything in case you tried to forget, the disclosed information as good as yours. He barely withstood the look on your face as you held up the papers you had brought home; yet his attention was far from shaken, all the more concerned at your disheveled appearance.

“What the fuck did you do to those people? What are you doing to them now?” You sucked in a breath, the air rattling through your teeth as you seethed, “And why the fuck did you think I wouldn’t find out?” You threw the packet on the coffee table, a splotched photo of Megan Halsey’s bruised neck facing the both of you. He hadn’t seen it, or maybe he just chose not to because he knew what was going to be there.

When he tried to approach you, holding a hand up to try and calm the air around you, it only made you backpedal, eyes locked into his despite the aversion. “Who…what did you-“ He began, and you explained, “I’m a fucking record courier, how do you think I did it?” You ran the heel of your hand under your eye, catching some stray tears as you trembled through the next sentence, “I would love to tell you for the millionth time that I can live with what I just saw, but you…you and Herbert-“ Reminded of the other one, you turned towards the corridor where the basement lay and let the untapped rage barrel out as you screamed, “YOU AND HERBERT WERE THE ONLY TWO THAT WALKED OUT OF THAT MORGUE ALIVE!”

It was caught in your throat again, and Dan had no idea what to do in the face of you swallowing it, fighting it silently as you tried to calm down. You were frayed, shaking even harder and feeling the emotion go straight to your spinning mind, making you a little dizzy. With the yelling out of the way, you picked up the papers again and made a beeline for the other hallway.

“[Y/N], hold on-“ Dan tried to follow, but you ignored him and kept a pace impossible for him to catch up with.

The silence between one moment and the next was an eternity, or at least it felt that way as you reread the report for the fourth time in the hour. Still tearing up, still wondering what you would have the stomach to put into a cardboard box first, you knew it was no use trying to make sense of it tonight. You had closed the vent in your room and kept your jacket on, because you’d rather freeze than hear anything else.

This was a moment you wished you stayed out of other people’s business, Herbert’s chastising for once falling on your ears, echoing in the recesses of your mind as you stared at the wall. Things would be better if you stuck to your duties. Going back to the analogy, being an unswatted fly was a beautiful gig in the way you saw it now, a [man/woman/sucker] who just knew too much to keep going without something dire happening.

Dire. Dyer knew you’d have to decide where to go from here, and after tonight he could easily assume it would be to align with him. Another knot added to the collection in your stomach, making you grimace harder. You think you’d rather be murdered by your roommates that even begin to accept that betraying them was what you were meant to do right now.

A knock on the door shattered the silence, made you snap back to your own space, the only room in the house that you could possibly feel safe in. Whichever of them it was didn’t speak your name, but you could hear the pane shift a bit as they pressed their palm over it when there was no answer.

Another ache in your chest made you stand from your desk. You were upset, but you weren’t completely callous. Covering the report with one of your larger sketchbooks sitting by the edge of the desk, you walked up to the door and without another second of pause undid the latch.

How he kept trying despite being smothered by his own emotion, you weren’t sure. Still, you gave him the time of evening, standing before him with your arms folded over your chest. He was thinking, you could see it in the way his big eyes fell from your socked feet to your shoulders, then back again when he still couldn’t talk. You were about to tell him to take his time, unsure truly if you could stand there all night but tempted to promise it, but he finally spoke.

“When Meg was alive,” He began, already struggling to keep himself steady in the way his voice wobbled through the sentence, “I didn’t want her to know about this, either.” You furrowed your brow, but nodded through the way memories of her autopsy photos were burnt into your head. You didn’t know her, but you knew she must’ve meant the world to Dan in the way he’d talk about her. “I-I even asked her…to move on. Leave me…with Herbert, the work-“ He was stuttering, throwing a hand back down the hall. Looking into your eyes, he took another deep breath, and you uncrossed your arms and held the eye contact. No hard edges, because you couldn’t bear holding them up to him even if it was vital to your survival.

“I’ve made this mistake before.” Dan choked, and he took in a deep breath as he went on in a pang to his voice that sounded as though his world was shattering in a way he didn’t know how to stop, and in the face of it he could barely keep composure, “But I won’t…I know I can’t do it again. Not to you.”

Before you could even attempt to think of an answer, he leaned in and put his lips to yours. The unkept rage, the fear, and everything you could hold away from the world suddenly spiraled forward, making you almost rock on your feet as you let him cup your jaw, tipping your head to fit better and having his own tears rub against your face.

Between the both of you, it was unclear who needed the human touch and the warmth more. It made any bitterness you had been white knuckling to survive fall flatter than it already was, your own hands start clasping the bend of his arms, keeping the both of you steady and feeling the hurt of your fingers from being relieved to stop clenching together.

When you pulled off, Dan didn’t try to separate. He whispered against your mouth, “We’ll tell you everything. Both of us. I’ll make Herbert do it, he needs y- needs to as much as I do.” Though it was a new touch to feel his forehead against yours, the slender nose brushing past the tip of your own, you welcomed it with a weak hum of a somewhat dumb, desperate belief, closing your eyes and nodding against him as you tried to catch your breath.

He carefully felt for your hands down at your sides, holding them up so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours, eyes closed. “I know that it makes all the sense in the world, [Y/N], but I don’t want you to go.” He begged, and you finally broke your silence with a sniff, “Stop it, really think I could? I…I…” In the flip of a coin, you turned your head and took another kiss, not caring if both of you were practically crying on each other and finally letting yourself rest your hands on his shoulders.

It was something you had denied long enough, and if he was desperate enough to lay it out it only drew you in further. He smiled, a small weakened one at first that only grew as you closed the rest of the space between your bodies, settling into the comfort of his old sweater, feeling it for not the first time, thankful to not catch a hint of blood or anything deceased; the first time without too much fear embedded like the threads pushed against your soft skin.

“You know,” You sighed, “I almost thought you were coming to lock my door again, like you do on nights where there’s something happening in the basement, I’m guessing.”

Dan pulled one arm up to rub his eyes, “Huh?” You pointed at your doorframe and explained, “Oh, I hear you sometimes come in and lock my door from the inside, I’m guessing just to keep me away from the research going haywire?” He looked at your door, then back at you. “[Y/N], that’s not a bad thought, but I didn’t…”

As he trailed off, both of you came to the same realization. You then smirked at him in disbelief, trying to find a reason in his eyes as he merely took in the return of your smile with a fond chuckle. He nodded surely, “Oh, and I thought you said he didn’t even think about you.”

You shook your head and murmured, “At this point, every day is a fucking revelation, Cain.” He laughed even harder this time, finally at ease as he ran his thumb under your eye. The willingness to let him do it, even tipping towards the caress with flushed recognition that it was all you needed to calm down, taking it further and holding his hand to your face for the fleeting moment, only made him want to weep again.

If only he had known that it was so easy.

~

You hadn’t been able to sleep, waiting until the lights in the living room and hallway were shut off and no one was walking around outside your door before making your way to the kitchen with your sketchbook, the report tucked in the back.

It was something you were obsessing over, mulling over how it was written, caught between the original typed copy to the ballpoint scribbling – but at the same time, you kept the open slate of a blank page with you too, drawing just to keep your mind out of it while sitting in your inability to rest. Coffee was left to brew, but you didn’t even have an interest because there was something more powerful than caffeine coursing through you. Sure, it was fear, but it was this dissatisfaction that all you had gotten from Dan tonight was a kiss.

That was staying as still in your mind as the air in the house sat. You and it were quiet, an occasional creak or tap from the foundations settling falling over your cold ears – just as there’d be an occasional ache in your [pussy/cock] at the idea of Dan’s blisteringly warm hands lingering on your shoulder blades, sliding down your spine, turning the fabric of your shirt into a sweltering mess from both the body heat that was swapped from him to you and the way he stirred you up, made you want to lean into him until you could swear it’d mean you’d fit snug into his ribcage.

The grandfather clock in the living room rang a long string of chimes, eleven to be precise, as you leaned forward, elbow on the counter and hand covering your mouth to sit in a second of thought. The drawing hadn’t helped, multiple sketches of a neck showing up on the pages and making you want to tear it apart, snuff it out in the fireplace. Megan Halsey didn’t know, either. Not until it was too late, you shook your head at yourself, still grieving the woman you didn’t know enough about to feel much besides an unkempt pain for, and to feel for Dan’s remorse that filled in those cracks. The regret was practically shedding off of him whenever her name came up, or even the night she died itself did.

Why did you bring it up? You cursed at yourself, but before you could go back to the other side of the shore and remind yourself it needed to happen, you needed some goddamn closure, someone entered the kitchen.

“You’re still awake after all of those hysterics?”

You looked down at the sketchbook, silent. He didn’t take the lack of an answer, and immediately asked, “Why were you so irate, [Y/N]? You’re usually so keen on being unheard when you’re here that I almost didn’t recognize the sound of you starting a racket for once.”

“I…” You sucked in a breath, unable to cry anymore, so you merely breathed the frustration out in a dramatic cave of your chest, “I had to find out what happened that night in 1985. The massacre at the hospital no one wants to talk about.”

The movement behind you stopped, and from the corner of your eye you saw his back facing you, mid-motion in getting a cup of coffee but unable to continue with the information laid out. His hand delicately set the mug down, watch glinting in the shine of a single light left on by the counter, and he swiveled to stare back at you. “You what?”

Turning to face him in return, you insisted, “Neither of you were telling me anything that made me feel…okay, so I did what I needed to do in order to move forward. I think Dan was doing me a favor, keeping me uninvolved until I knew what I was really getting into.”

Herbert scoffed, “The report? A myriad of redacted lines that make it look like some sort of grasp at straws? An art project rather than evidence?”

“The unredacted report.” You corrected. He was lost for words again, mouth half open in disbelief as you carefully turned to the last page of your book, grasping at the stapled packet and unhesitant to hold it out to him, “The one with yours and Dan’s names all over it, something Miskatonic wants to hide along with any tangible evidence from that night.”

He was slow at first, but when you merely stretched your arm closer to him, he took the packet, perusing with a hard brow and a frown that was once again a rare glimpse into an honest, raw reaction. It looked scared, it looked inconvenienced, and it somehow made you want to clarify, “I was shown it in an attempt to make you two look like monsters, but…” You trailed off, and finally pulled the words from a drawer in your heart, your mind itself, “I don’t think that’s how I see it, Herbert.”

“I figured.” He said in a lost tone.

“If it means anything,” You murmured, “I would rather die than side with anyone outside these walls, let alone the cops. I…I’m frightened by this concept of…bringing people back, re-animating them, whatever you call it…” Herbert’s stare was back on you, and you let yourself shed a tear that had somehow come through, “But I don’t want to get in your way. I’ve said that since the beginning, or at least tried to.”

“Well. You’re still so uncertain.” He observed, and you only looked away. “Let me,” He then handed the report back to you, catching your eyes back on him as he pleaded, closing distance just like his counterpart had earlier on but no hint at colliding with you. Instead, he merely breathed, “Let me show you, [Y/N].”

~

“Right where we left off, hm?” You tried not to hug the wall as he was presenting those innards to you again, not even close to appearing any different than when you had seen them a couple days ago. You replied, “Sure. How did you preserve it?”

He looked up at you again, merely gesturing to the needle in his hand. You didn’t understand, but still you acted as though it made sense, nodding quietly and looking back down at the table. “Did you have the opportunity to take a look at any of the evidence from that night, [Y/N]?” Herbert asked. You almost didn’t hear him, so petrified as he neared the sharp, miniscule pin of the syringe towards the guts. Swallowing the bile drummed up at the very smell of what was in front of you back down, you mumbled, “N-no, I hadn’t.”

“Well, decay is significantly slowed when my re-agent is applied to the organic matter. I’m still finding the precise answer as to why that is, but it makes this even more convenient when in the wake of the more…long-term research subjects.” He explained, a closed-lip smile to himself that took you away from watching him insert the needle.

“Long-term?” You echoed, and his eyes snapped up to you. “Yes.” He stated plainly, as though you were the one who was daft by not understanding off the bat. You envisioned the photos from the massacre, merely nodding as you then looked down once more. In the short bout of eye contact, he had pushed the plunger, and the strange liquid that had seemed to haunt you from the hospital all the way down to this very basement was gone from one vessel to the other, its light extinguished.

The silence was heavy, almost as potent as the scent of blood. You eyed how close you and the other man were standing to each other, mindful to be quaint when you were aware his narrow shoulder was merely ghosting over your own. “Herbert?” You squeaked out, and though he hadn’t moved you went on, assuming he was listening. “What are we waiting for?”

“Life.” He replied, a fascinated twinge to his voice as suddenly the intestine twitched. In seconds, he had grabbed your forearm, keeping you standing where you were despite jumping terribly hard at the body part suddenly taking the movement of what you’d imagine a snake might. Coiling, shuddering all on its own.

“N-no brain,” You were lost, shocked as you forgot your own reservations to hold his hand to your arm, speaking the two words in a stupor. Herbert nodded carefully, and even added, “No pulse, either.” He looked over, expecting a scream or maybe even a desperate attempt to run back up the basement stairs.

His stomach nearly flipped when he saw that you had caught your breath, still heaving but almost beholding as the intestine jerked from the medical dish it had been sitting in, as though its slippery skin were feeling around the metal table to decide its next move. The silence coupled with the way you were securing his fingers to your arm for support, not able to stop watching, made him almost want to ask you.

Was this fascination, or was this terror? Either way, you were still standing with him, even wishing for him to stay close. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to prod…but merely looked back to his progress taking shape in the long organ feeling for a way through its new life.

You seemed just as new to the new world of possibility as the creature itself was.

~

When you were sure you were being watched in the hospital lobby, you took the course that you had thought in your head. Nose buried in the papers resting on your inner forearm, you appeared distracted as you walked along. As if on a cue, another body came colliding with yours. Keeling back, you yelled rather aggressively, seeing Dyer in your peripheral as you regained control again.

You slowly rose back to look at your assailant, a nasty expression taking over your face as the two of you pulled away from each other.

“[L/N].” Herbert spat.

“Dr. West.” You huffed, and he brushed past like you weren’t even worth the second look.

Dyer flicked his eyebrows, and you gave him a knowing glance, one that you strained to show a bit of hurt. He sneered, as if to say I told you so, and soon he was distracted by some commotion down the hall. Giving you a final affirming glance, you turned your back, once again busy with the documents in your hands. You even hung your head a little.

He quickly made off, and within seconds of him being out of the room, you heard the faint, throaty chuckle from around the corner, almost sadistic in its nature as it found its stride. It was like watching the ordeal was far more hysterical to him than anything else. Herbert’s honest laughter was a first for you, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you caught a shadow lingering from the other side of the corridor, still keeping your back towards the lobby.

“I can’t believe you were right. He’s none the wiser, and all it took was a little acting.” You murmured, watching the man step out from around the wall, returning to where the both of you had bumped into each other. He shook his head and replied, “Of course. It isn’t hard to tell it with someone like him. The slime of such an ego is palpable for miles.” He gave the direction that Dyer had hurried off to another daunting look, and then back to you. You smiled, fonder than you could ever remember being for the man in front of you but trying to hide the way seeing him in a rare spout of glee was utterly infectious.

“We have some work to do, don’t we?” Herbert asked, and you barely thought twice before nodding.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the Miskatonic you knew, the corridor silent besides the ever present hum of an air conditioning unit. After hours was when it got this desolate, and despite the unfamiliar aura surrounding you, the morgue was something you had walked by many times before. It was strangely enough where things began, almost half expecting to see Dan without the longer hair again, as quick to pass as the entire memory had felt sometimes. Stepping through, you didn’t question where or how you landed here. You just took in a moment of silence, something hard for you to grasp at times.

A door to your right, the one to the morgue that you also recognized, then unlatched from the inside and fell open. It didn’t happen in a slow creak, but rather a self-animated swivel that stood perpendicular to you.

“[Y/N]…” A woman’s voice spoke from the depths of the room, just out of view. It echoed unnaturally from the room it came from; at least, from what you knew it was not nearly that big on the other side of the heavy industrial metal keeping the bodies nice and cold. You opened your mouth to ask whatever question came first, but it was cut off as her hand then grasped the doorframe. Pulling into your sight, a pale-skinned, half mangled woman stood before you. Dark liquid streamlined from multiple cuts on her body, and a familiar set of hand marks were collared along her neck as she lifted her head, as though it was brought to life from the autopsy photos you were trying so hard to ignore until it dissipated into the static of your subconscious.

Still, it would never quite go away even in that analogy. Who stood in front of you wasn’t quite who you had seen in the autopsy photos, and she wasn’t quite anyone else you could recognize either. The soft features were interrupted by patchwork lines of other body parts put onto her, joined just to be torn apart again to leave her in such a state now. Still, there was something frightening behind her expression that made you keep from running, almost like she was merely holding to the door to keep from reaching out to you instead.

“Leave.” She beckoned, pleading blue eyes and unkept blonde hair pasting to her jaw as she spoke, your mouth wiring shut as you merely listened to her finish the demand with your legs feeling as though they were gearing to give out rather than take off in a life-saving sprint.

“Leave before you’re put here with me.”

Air blasted through your nose, like you were resuscitated from the dream by the act of opening your eyes. The pointed graphite on the pencil had been peacefully resting against the sketchbook’s page since you had drifted off, pillow propping you up after you slumped in exhaustion. At the jolt of energy that snapped you back to reality, it shot off the page in a jerk of an abrasive line against the ginger scratches you had been doodling beforehand.

Catching your breath, you sat up straight in bed. One hand had the book pressed against your thighs, swimming in pillowy covers you were curled up in. Like it was the crust that had formed from the short rest; you slowly began to rub the images out of your mind, fingers coming up to run along where the corners met the bridge of your nose, breathing heavily through your nostrils and your teeth clenched together.

A clang from the vent made you flinch again, this time the pencil fell from your hand and you got a good look at the unfinished arm you had been sketching, interrupted by the dark streak sprinting away from the rest of the picture. “Herbert, there-! By the-“ Dan had begun to speak but another mournful howl cut him off, the sound of a second crash making your face twist in agony as you exhaled, trying to breathe dread out from your body. A death rattle struck a nerve, something so animated yet so far gone, dead long before you had began drawing that night.

You closed the book, disregarding the image you had created both on the page and in the depths of your mind as you turned the light off. Before the dark took your sight, though, you were sure to spot that your door had been locked from the inside sometime between drifting off and attempting to return with bile in your throat, and the noise coming from the depths of the floorboards you rested on.

It was going to be a problem for tomorrow’s [Y/N, you concluded as you collapsed back into bed, a pillow over your ear to keep from catching onto the sounds that came from the basement.

~

Sleep didn’t come despite your efforts after that. Even now, you were killing time before your shift. Tuesdays were the days that dragged on the longest, mostly because you were often tasked with reorganizing a leg of the records storage back at the offices that the ladies hadn’t gotten to. Still, drawing wasn’t bringing you much peace of mind either. Not even the quiet cassette you had put on was giving you much besides making your headache amplify against the sides of your skull as you finally flipped the messy, smudged page before you and turned the rest of the book face down on the counter.

Your eyes shot to the mantle. They couldn’t even find a clear space to give some reprieve; you spotted a bone of some sort sitting behind the antique-looking clock and had to grind your teeth to snuff a noise of frustration. Being startled was turning into an old trick, you then concurred as you dragged a hand over your face. You hadn’t heard Dan walk in, who watched your palm slap the counter as you unfocused your eyes for something to make everything stop mobbing you so early in the day.

“Hey,” Jumping, you turned to look at him. He put a hand up, trying not to laugh as you then reeled yourself in, apologizing quietly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle like that.” When there was no answer, no lighthearted hum of assurance that he could look past another quirk, you then looked over to see the concern on his face. “Have you been sleeping?” Dan asked, and you quickly answered, “Take a wild guess, bud.”

“I’ve seen you even on your all-nighter mornings, and you never look this-“ He stopped himself, and your eyes hardened as both of you finished the sentence in your minds, and he chose to keep the word to himself. “Do you work today?” He then asked, busying himself with trying to find something in the kitchen. You hummed affirmative, standing up from the counter and adding, “It’s my long day. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, stopping you before you could walk out. You were tense as he initiated to hold your hand that wasn’t grasping the sketchbook for dear life, and he suggested rather plainly, “You could always call in, try to take a nap or relax for the day. You do so much, and it’s a miracle I even see you in between it all.” You let your hand gingerly return the hold and smirked up at him. Stifling a yawn, you then sighed, “Dan, I’d love to, but I’d just start pacing the house. Sleep is…Well, you know.” You admitted, “It’s not easy for me with everything I’ve seen the last couple weeks.”

He nodded at that, laced concern over his pursed lips as he then sighed, “I know, [Y/N]. I just…don’t want you to run yourself into the ground, you know?” You nodded glumly as he then kidded you, rolling his eyes a little, “Come on, I was a med student. You really should listen to someone who’s been there.”

Smiling a little, you gave one half-second of consideration for the corridor behind you, then pulled the back of Dan’s hand up to your lips. “I really appreciate the worry, Dan. I’ll just get through today, stop by the hospital if I got business there-“ He almost looked dazed, a more genuine smile as you lowered his hand again, still holding it as you shrugged, “Then, I’ll take doctor’s orders. Get home and get some rest.”

He seemed to be lighter on his feet even, and sighed, “That-a [boy/girl/courier].” You huffed slightly, finally releasing his hand and walking back down the hall. “Thanks, Dan. See you later on, alright?” He watched you walk, [the sway of your hips/the drum of your fingers against the sketchbook set on your hip] making him smile with even more earnestly than he had managed in a hot second.

“Of course.”

~

Even dancing around the ordeal, your duties did find reason to go to the hospital, and you yourself a reason to find Dr. Cain chatting up a coworker in plain sight. He nearly turned on his heels at the mere sight of your approach with the usual delivery, but you didn’t get much of a ‘hello’ between you before another crossed paths.

“Good morning, [Mr./Miss] – Oh, my good lord.” You glowered as Dyer began to laugh off the ghastly look on your face, “What good’s a courier if they’re running on fumes, huh?” He [gingerly shook you, nothing too rough /slugged you on the arm just enough to make you waggle backwards a little like there hadn’t been a bone there to knock against], and you merely let out a dry, forced laugh to him while Dan tried not to look directly at him. It was as though he still couldn’t help the tight glare, but pretended it was at an imaginary fly on the back of his neck as his hand found its usual spot, a tick from being bothered.

“I’m just teasing you, [sweets/stud]. I’ll go on and tell the gals in the break room to leave some coffee for you to grab before your next stop. I’ve never seen a living soul look so dead!” Dyer laughed again, clapping you on the shoulder before sharing the love and slugging Dan on the arm. Both of you stood almost huddled together, plastering fake smiles and awkward chuckles for the man until he was well out of ear shot. You looked down at the toes of your shoes, one hand still holding the manila envelope and the other coming back up to curl into the crevice of your temple, two fingers massaging the dull throb that was lingering.

A hand clasped around your shoulder, skittering to then set in a featherlight hold on your upper arm. You watched as Dan gave you an assurance in the way his thumb dragged against your sleeve, finding the frigid skin underneath it with the motion. With your heart having leapt to your throat, you merely let your eyes trail up his own, the pristine white coated shoulder and finally to his face, taking your time to hide the way you were practically melting at the gesture.

“I’m making Herbert take a night off tonight, too – for both of our sakes.” He mentioned, and you choked down a giggle, “Good luck with that.”

“Well, I want you to join us.” Dan then mentioned, and you narrowed your eyes slightly, like the words I want you to help me keep him out of the basement were almost visible on his lips instead, “Think he’d want to be there if he knew you were there.”

“Why, because he wants to see me or because he wants to make sure I keep my hands to myself?” You joked, the strange inner thought pushing past the weak defenses of sleep deprived filters. Dan rose his eyebrows at you, jaw slightly open as you then cleared your throat, immediately reeling yourself in with your eyes now stuck on the folder in your hand. “I-I mean, I’m surprised he’d want to hang out with…anyone besides you, since you two are colleagues, and we’ve only known each other for a fraction of that.”

“[Y/N], we…” He began, but quickly stopped himself as he then craned his neck slightly, tilting his head at you so you would look at him again, “I want us to get along, get to know each other a little better if we’re gonna be-“ He stopped himself, stifled as he took a breath and you turned back to meet his eyes. You mirrored him when he broke, making sure Dyer truly had gone down another way but then you were brought back by Dan running his hand from your arm to your shoulder, then back again in a soothing motion, “If we’re going to be in this mess together.”

Blinking, you merely nodded at that, and asked, “Do you or him need me to grab anything at the store or something before I get home?” Smiling, he shook his head at you. “No, I think I have it covered. Get your work done and then just let everything go for the night, alright?” You nodded sagely at that, watching him start to walk down the hall. He then pointed at you and huffed, “Both of you are sleeping if I can do anything about it.”

You rolled your eyes, giving a mocking salute as he continued down the hall. His genuine smile came through, eyes shut from its emergence as he then turned around with light feet. You took in another deep breath, hand running up your pantleg to keep the clammy skin from ruining the manila folder as you turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Alright. So, our county courier is for sure sleeping with Cain.”

“Oh, probably.” Dr. Graves had been idly listening to Dyer’s lament, and even agreed with him without looking up from his desk, “Dr. Cain is a serial romantic. Patients flock to him and his-“ A smile quirked on his lips, “lost puppy disposition.” When the officer merely grumbled, he then observed with the slight smirk, “You almost sound bitter about it, officer.”

Dyer rolled off the wall that he was leaning on, making a dismissive sound. “Pah. It’s good that [he/she’s / they’re] doing this, though. Distract him, take him away from the interests of West. [Y/N] knows what to do now that [he/she’s / they’ve] been made aware of the massacre.”

Graves’ expression dropped, looking away from the papers in his hand. “What?”

Dyer quickly insisted, “Look, I had to, Wilbur. Damn paper-pusher was dragging [his/her/their] feet while giving me something to work with, so I just gave a little… nudge. [He/she knows / They know] how to spell ‘confidential’, especially something as covered up as what happened here.”

Graves shook his head, and grumbled, “Well, that doesn’t answer my next question.”

“Spit it out.”

“Why would [he/she/they] want to get so close to Dr. Cain if [he/she/they] know what he’s capable of?”

Dyer snorted, looking back out the cracked door to the Pathology office as he warned, “I think you’re concerned about the wrong man, Graves.” When the man merely turned to look at him again in confusion, Dyer then spoke lower than before.

“Cain wasn’t the one who decapitated Dr. Carl Hill, now was he?”

~

“You want me to do what, exactly?”

Dan scoffed, and you merely stood beside him while giving Herbert a mirrored pleading expression. Still, you were kind of curious about the atmosphere in the basement you never got permission to see, tired eyes stringing out rather than keeping engaged with the two men beside you.

“Take a break, that’s what.” Dan was flimsy in his firm tone, especially with the other man who wore it well. Herbert asked immediately, “Why would I do that?”

Dan tapped the side of his sneaker to yours, and you quickly piped up. “Your mind can’t work well all the time, Herbert. You’re down here a lot, and-“ You then stifled another yawn at the mere mention, “It’d be good for the research to give it some space, even if you’re not stuck on any pressing question, or experiment or the sort…” You saw Dan give him another pointed look from your peripheral, as though you were some walking examples of the importance of breaks with your sleepy deep breath after speaking. He was silent for another long pause, but finally asked, “What are we going to do upstairs, then?”

“Board games, mostly.” You said with a shrug. Dan put a hand on your shoulder in an urgent motion and corrected, “The same things we always do at night, just upstairs and out of the basement.” The other man scoffed again, and Dan mentioned, “Look, you can bring your reading, or whatever with you. I won’t make you do anything more, just give yourself the change of scenery.”

“Are you trying to throw some sort of bone of formality out for [Y/N]?” He then asked, but still you noticed him closing his notebook, beginning to gather some things. He then dared to go on, Dan shaking his head already, “[He/she doesn’t / They don’t] need the wool pulled over the eyes any more that we’re normal people, I showed them-“

“I know you showed [him/her/them].” Dan huffed, and frayed enough from the conversation he started up the stairs again. You decided to wait for, standing there as he finally started to follow.

“Is he doing this for you or are you doing this for him?” He then asked, and your eyes slid like stone over to look him in the eye. “We’re both doing this for you.”

He merely pressed his brow at you and continued up the steps with no further questions.

You had opted to take your usual spot in the armchair across from the sofa, leaving the other two with the latter. It seemed to keep the peace, and that was what this night was about. You could do with some peace, not having to close the air vents in the Autumn again. You were barely upright, but enough not to look utterly disheveled while you had started to scribble in your book, feeling particularly uninspired, just adding detail to works in progress.

It didn’t take well-rested judgement to see Dan wasn’t actually watching, and that Herbert wasn’t actually reading. It just made you wonder if you should really keep drawing since everyone was putting on an act.

The thought sent a wave of heat through your body, and clammy fingers suddenly let the pencil slip up, fall to the carpet with two sets of eyes watching from across the room. You pretended not to notice, leaning down after it with a dizzy sensation going from your gut to your head from the shift in gravity.

“What in the world was on that page?” Dan joked, and you smiled from where you were face-level with the floor. “Which one?” Herbert eyed the two of you as you flipped to the page you had been working on the night before, the dark line the clearest thing about the image.

“It’s a fluke, I meant for it just to be a study on arm shape, but…serves me right for drawing before bed.” You laughed, and while Dan grinned back, the other man set his book in his lap to see a little better. You stayed still, uncertain as he suddenly got this tuned in hold to his shoulders, no longer scowling.

“This is different,” Herbert observed aloud, “Unnatural.” All you thought to do was hum in affirmation at that, and he did the same, almost like a mirroring action. He then looked up at you and asked, “Do you have more like it?”

“I…” You trailed off, and started to turn the pages, “Possibly. Depends on what you want to see in regards to unnatural, but-“

He didn’t even hesitate, and you once again watched with bated breath, peripherals still to the pencil laying on the floor as he shifted on the couch. Dan also watched, trying not to appear completely shocked at what was being offered.

A space in between the two men, something you felt had been kept from you, and a sudden pull from your core again made you slowly rise. Ignoring the fatigue and walking carefully around the coffee table, you flipped towards the back of the book, finding some of the X-rays Marge had passed to you. This only got Herbert to tilt his head, observing with slight bewilderment.

Dan asked, “Are those from…?” You replied quickly, “Oh god, no. Miskatonic doesn’t trust like other offices do.”

“Of course,” Herbert agreed, making the other man give him a quick look before furrowing his brow at your drawings.

Stakeouts were common for a police officer looking for answers, but Dyer wasn’t necessarily permitted to such a strike. It hadn’t stopped him from parking down the street from the infamous repurposed mortuary, the place he had found to be where the courier’s address was read as in the private records from the office.

They were leaning far too close to each other to see faces, just [y/h/c] hair next to West’s dark, short cut. Regardless, it was close, the shadows of their bodies morphing against one another in shared fascination, honed in on one spot and not afraid to get close to see. Yet, despite the two sitting together so intimately, he saw Cain’s arm slowly come around the back of the couch, not as cordial in his distance but also involved with whatever was taking place on the sofa judging by the angle of his head, looking more at the two people than what their shared focus was based on his glances to the side, the detail of his face seen better overall.

Dyer chewed his lip, trying to squint through the binoculars and truly make sense of the image before finally dropping them to his lap, and huffing loudly.

The arrangement between the courier and the other two was even weirder than he had assumed.

Chapter Text

You fumbled another file, watching the papers slip from the manila protection, spatter against your feet in waves of 8x10 curls. It happened almost daily, but you sure were noticing it today. Each skitter from a numb set of fingers, distracted eyes barely reading each name and date on the folder while you continued to organize for the ladies at the records office. Muscle memory of repeat names and statements kept you afloat, hopefully enough to get your work done. You needed a day indoors, yes, so the fact the professional need for it linked up with the personal one was a strike of good luck.

You could do with some of that.

Was it the fabric of the old sofa, or the way everyone’s shirt sleeves felt against yours making your shoulders feel so electric? You pursed your lips, reminding yourself that Herbert’s attire was all too sleek to give a fuzzy feeling like you were catching onto his very person. Your eyes snapped to your shoes when you asked yourself if you could get a chance to test that just to be sure of it. Then again, curiosity was sure driving you forward in a direction that could only lead to something that’d get you… Killed? Hurt? Destroyed in more ways than physically? Kicked out of a pretty good housing situation for this part of town?

“Well, you had me fooled, [L/N].”

The same voice trailing up the corridors made by the shelves of record boxes had you turning slowly, and you swallowed hard as you spotted that smile between files, the glint of gold and his face clean shaven. You almost glared in how hard you looked at him yet you could keep your voice light. “What? What do you mean?”

“Cain, West. Roommates, distant enemies.” He pondered slowly, then shook his head, “None of that is true, you kidder. You look good on a couch together.”

Your expression, fighting to stay neutral up until this point, finally cracked. “What were you doing at our house last night?”

 “There’s been a string of grave robberies across the street,” Dyer quickly replied, a hand tossing to the air, “On top of all these…missing cadavers, messes along the same, strange vein of crime…” You shook your head at that, but he then innocently stated, “I just happened to be staking out when I saw it.”

A sick crawl went up your stomach, then fell back down with a look at him up and down as he stepped around, came into view. You held the file in your hands closer to your chest, and he eased, “[Y/N], don’t be embarrassed.” He laughed, “Your secret’s safe with me, especially if you have…romantic intention with Cain…or is it actually West?”

You didn’t respond, hands immediately finding more papers to grab, something to thumb through and act focused on. He then shrugged, voice taking a tone truer to his feelings. “You’re in the thick of something far more dangerous than you think, and it’s just a fact of life. You don’t know better until it comes to a head, I suppose.”

“I’m not involving myself with…1985’s mess, officer.” You clarified, “I came after the massacre, and unless you have hard evidence to believe I’m wrong, I’m not even sure why we’re having this conversation.” You closed the file in your hand, and mused for emphasis, “It’s all water under the bridge, anyways.”

He smiled, and asked, “So, you think they’ve learned their lesson? That stint in Peru that the hospital sent them on completely reformed them?”

You squinted back at him, frozen in an honest confused state, but then slowly muttered, “This is my first time hearing about them going to Peru.”

He sighed through his nose. “Fair enough. Unfortunately, there aren’t heavy records on that part of their careers. The medicine they were permitted to bring over there was more experimental than anything, and I don’t think what really happened with it will see the light of day anyhow.” He laughed, turning to leave. You then stammered out the lie, “I’ve looked around the house, and you can quote me on this: nothing to be seen or report, not even in the attic, and not in the basement.” You nodded, “I keep a lot of my storage in there, so believe me: I make sure there aren’t stolen dead people in with my junk.”

“You don’t need to cover, [hot shot/honey].” Dyer suddenly eased, “Just know if you keep up with those two, you’ll be nothing but a string of horrible accidents. If you could, I’d tell you to ask Miss Halsey about it.” He grinned at the way you reacted, like the twist of wry lips had slipped under your skin. “Even as students, that’s all that Cain and West were. Hurricanes of lying, malpractice.”

You were silent, standing beside yourself and finally filing the manila folder that had been getting wrung out in your hands back on the shelf. Like he couldn’t help it, he let one more comment slide before opening the door again, already halfway out.

“Might as well be running through that hospital with scissors.”

~

Practically barreling through the door, you yanked your first few buttons on your shirt undone, bag hitting the couch with a toss of your arm. You were quickly met with similar energy from Herbert turning the corner, beginning to speak but you held him in place with a squared jaw and hard brow, one hand sprouting out in pause.

“Before you start, I need to talk-“

“I don’t have time, you need to come with me.” Herbert dismissed you, your face tightening as you grabbed the seam between his sleeve and the torso of his shirt. You repeated yourself in a more tense voice, “We need to talk, Herbert.”

He looked over your outfit, confused and twinging. Finally, you released him, and when he merely pouted for a beat you then added, “I’ll come with you, but please. I need to talk to you about something that was said to me today.” You froze, mouthing the name before he could jump back to what he was doing.

“What? What did that humdrum police officer want?” He straightened his posture, no longer turning back towards the hallway before you even started talking. You let a noise of frustration out through a sigh, posture going limp, but then murmured, “Let’s just go. We can talk at the graveyard.” You then nodded, and reminded him, “Lest you forget it: I’m here to help.” You hoped it came across on your big eyes, your meek frown. Please help me, too.

Herbert replied slowly, “…Alright.” He opened the closet by the door, finding a long black coat that you now saw fit him perfectly as he pulled it over his shoulders. “Alright, [Y/N]. Dan got kept at the hospital, of course, but I’m going to need an extra pair of hands for what needs to be done nonetheless.”

You hadn’t realized what he had been talking about until he reached back into the closet, a shovel now in his hands. It fit too well, made your stomach contract as you then realized just what waited for you.

How did I not see that coming?

~

“With scissors?”

“With scissors.” You echoed, matching his pace as the path between rows of graves surrounded the two of you. Herbert walked almost casually, stopping when a headstone caught his attention for reasons you were still figuring out. He was obviously looking for something to work with, but you didn’t know if that meant decrepit, fresh, young, old…

You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, and sniffed, “Of course, I kept my mouth shut. Tried to convince him we had an empty house, just a few eccentricities.”

“Eccentricities!?” Herbert now repeated you, offended but you digressed. “He said he didn’t have any judgement,” A smirk came across your face as you shook your head, almost sarcastic in tone, “And to be honest, I just don’t know what he meant by that.”

“Is he talking about our personal lives outside of work?” Herbert asked, and you replied, “Maybe. What else would it be?” When there was only silence in reply, you pointed to one headstone. Herbert glanced over, and mumbled, “Died in 1897. Too ancient.”

You nodded to that, eyes vacant because you still didn’t know what he was looking for.

“Is that what he thinks?” Herbert then laughed, your eyes bouncing back to him as he walked a few strides ahead of you. “That we’re an item, Dan and I?” You stared hard at the back of his head now, trying to burn right through, and like he sensed it and quickly explained, “Even if that was the case, Dyer has no business in what we meddle with – or what you do, either, [Y/N]. Remember that, and maybe his flimsy interrogation won’t cut so deep.”

“I don’t think he’s worried about either of you, it’s more like…If…If it was…” You trailed off, unable to spit it out, the feelings of sitting between him and Dan smothering you, your inclusion getting that same fuzziness to now dry your words, caught in your throat.

A strike of terror came fast over you, to admit what Dyer now believed: the romantic implications, thinking there was something far too convoluted to be just between you and one of these men. You instead snapped your head to the nearest tombstone when you could see in a peripheral glance that he had turned to look back.

“What about her?” You stooped down, stomach slow to catch up with you and making you a little nauseous as you pivoted fast, “She…only passed thirty five years ago, not as ancient.”

He walked over, standing behind you, a loom over your shoulder and the shovel shading the back of your head.

“Yes, she’ll do.” Herbert then said, and when you read her headstone a second time he goaded in a gentle tone, “Move now.”

Another flash of movement from your peripherals got your head to turn, but just as you were about to do as the man had asked, the shovel fell to one side. He had his hands on your shoulders, pushing hard and making you wince. “Get down. Down, [Y/N]-!” He hissed.

You scrambled, avoiding getting in his way and belly pressed into the ground, but when you fell to the ground on the other side of the tombstone, he grabbed the back of your shirt and guided you to tuck in front of him. You tensed, every muscle compacting into itself, like if you retreated further into your current posture you’d stop feeling your sides on the inner seam of his slacks. Eyes boggled, but you quickly caught the commotion a few rows away, and Herbert responded by pulling you tighter against him, the both of you squishing into the shape of the stone.

“There sure are dead bodies out here, but I really don’t think it’s gonna be the ones we’re looking for.” An unfamiliar male voice spoke, and Dyer’s unique cadence made your chest cave in a dreaded exhale, “I’m not looking for these bodies, Potts, but I have a hunch someone else in the neighborhood is.”

You and Herbert exchanged a displeased look as Potts, the other man with him, mumbled, “And who would… Oh, Christ, Dyer. You have to stop-“

“I will after this.” He interrupted him, their idling footsteps coming to an abrupt halt, “I just need a sign that it’s not still happening. What did you think, honestly? All those body parts, scraps and X-rays going missing all at once like that!?”

“Didn’t take the X-rays. They’re useless to me,” Herbert muttered, and luckily, he didn’t see the stifled shock on your own face, or your fingers curl tightly against your jacket fabric. Potts finally huffed, “Alright, if you say so.”

“I’m not just doing this for me, it’s an order from Chapham. Thinks his wife’s institutionalization has something to do with being hospitalized at Miskatonic.” You whispered the name back to yourself, getting a hand over your mouth as they nearly walked right by the headstone.

The footsteps came then faded, and you even spotted them now making their way on the same path that the two of you had just been on maybe a few minutes ago. Going in the opposite direction.

“They were closer to us than I thought.” You murmured, Herbert’s arm sliding off and letting you shoot away from pressing against him. He stood slowly, and you looked up at him. The expression on your face felt pretty easy to see: flustered, crouched to him while still catching your breath. He straightened his tie, and answered, “They won’t find anything that proves anyone in our house accountable. Prowling a graveyard, like…some sort of dull neighborhood watch for the dead.”

He stared after them, a twist to his scowl that creased the edges of his lips. The shovel suddenly came down to hover directly by your hands. You took hold of where the spade’s neck began, and with surprising strength Herbert pulled you to stand with the tool. You asked in a mousy voice, “Well, should we wait to dig until we’re certain they’re gone?”

“Oh, they’re gone.” He stated surely. You stared at his profile with a twinge of disbelief, but when his head turned to look at you again, you met it without a flinch, settled into eye contact that you were still unable to figure out, which only compelled you.

“They’ll be gone once they fail to find exactly what they’re looking for.” The way he was holding you with just a stare, eyes boring in after so much time spent looking away – not even paying you mind – made your fuzzy throat return. When he let go of the shovel, you were now holding it on your own. Your hand had begun to tremble before you broke eye contact. Looking down, turning the spade the correct direction, and sticking it in the crumbling dirt below your feet.

It was the same dirt that clung to both of your clothes.

~

“Just drag it down, and it’s perfectly fine if you damage a hip. That’s why they give you two.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Dan took maybe three steps inside, and you had no time to drop the body or even careen out of sight. You stood half-crouched, frozen in place and holding the cadaver, what was left of her body beneath the arms while Dan turned to face you completely.

He stared in silence, eyes dull with exhaustion as he met your own, and then took his time tracing the rest. As he continued to move, unraveling from work in the form of his coat and his bag, his expression dropped. It began stretching in a terror that he knew far too well. His coat finally fell from his body and onto the floor as he made a noise, and then muttered, “What…what are you doing, [Y/N]!?”

You were silent, tight expression feigning from his stare as he now recognized that the person in your hands was not only unfamiliar, but an acrid color. He took a few steps closer from the other end of the hall and repeated, “[Y/N], what are you doing with that? Where di-“ Before he could make it to you, Herbert darted from his room, stopping him in the middle of the corridor. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. [He/she was / They were] only assisting with moving them downstairs, they had nothing to do with it.”

“Where did you find that?” Dan asked him, then turned to you again with another scoff of bewilderment, “And why are you helping him with it?” You were mute, heart racing in a naked terror as you set the corpse on the floor and adrenaline made you find some kind of voice. “H-he…He said he needed some help.” You approached him with cautious footsteps, desperately rubbing your hands off on your clothes to get the remnants of cold skin to fizzle out against the denim of your pants. You gave Herbert an uncertain glance, then muttered, “He said it was only right if I’m here with you two, and I mean-”

“What are you talking about?” Dan’s jaw slacked, looking at you with a bottomless stare before turning his attention to the other man again, part of his body behind you and wedging you in between them. “What [is he/she / are they] talking about?” He repeated, trying to harden his voice. You told yourself that Dan wasn’t mad. He sounded frightened more than anything else.

“[Y/N] has been assisting me when you can’t.” He stated plainly, once again looking at you with a glint of familiarity that made you adjust uncomfortably. “You think I could move these cadavers in a meaningful frame of time by myself?”

“You’ve been making [him/her/them] move bodies!?” Dan sneered over your head, “I thought you were adamant that you weren’t going to get anyone else involved.”

The itching guilt of knowing you helped pick out the body wasn’t helping your whirlwind of a mind. Herbert prodded, “You didn’t ask me to refrain should I change my mind, did you? [He/she was / They were] curious, so there’s a need for [him/her/them] to see for themselves.” You cleared your throat, both of their eyes on you as you clarified in a weak voice, “I n-never asked to help with the body transport, to be fair.”

A little hum left Herbert’s throat as he took your shoulder for a moment. Your eyes snapped back to look at him, then Dan promptly had a hold of your other one from behind. He muttered, “I thought it was implied we wouldn’t involve a third person in this. We can’t.”

“I didn’t have plans to, Dan, but [Y/N] was the one who came to me. Who am I to stop someone who’s curious?”

“Just because [he/she was / they were] curious doesn’t mean we make [him/her/them] handle all these dead people.”

“[He/she’s / They’ve] seen the notes.” He replied with a slight shrug, “I wouldn’t let just anyone contribute without some sort of background.”

“[Y/N] doesn’t need to know. In fact, I’d prefer that we only see each other as roommates if we can’t control this.” Your heart had been sitting on a ledge unbeknownst to you, unprepared to feel it fall as Dan finished, “Not make our living situation some kind of dirty secret.”

Herbert shook his head almost gingerly, eyebrows raised. “Who says it’s a dirty secret, exactly? That’s only true if you treat it dirty.”

Both of their hands slipped off of your shoulders to give each other tight stares and furrowed brows. “Are…” The movement was abrupt to glance over your shoulder, trailing up to Dan, “Are you still talking about the research?”

He looked down, jaw slacking slightly as he now felt lost for words as your eyes pinned him, searching for an answer in a hopeless expression. “This… is a mess.” Dan finally stated, and only when he saw what that did to your expression, confusion giving to a mild disheartened smolder, did he stutter, “Look, I just- I didn’t want to deal with this right after a long day, I didn’t-“

“No.” You scoffed, hands exposed to him again as you turned away from Herbert and even laughed, the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like gasoline, “You’re right. I think I’m getting a little too involved. This was a mistake on my part, too.”

“Now look at what you’ve done-“Herbert began, a snap quickly muzzled by your hand sliding back, tapping the knot of his tie with ginger knuckles as you barked, “Stop. Stop…”

Dan had his hands on his hips, and now tried to talk again, “[Y/N], I-“ You took your other hand, pressing into his sternum gently as you snapped again, “You, too. Stop.”

Hands slipping off both their chests, you then took a deep breath and chose Dan to be the one to get your honest, tired eyes. Your voice became restrained, some other passionate anger, a pain you weren’t prepared for and afraid to let loose coming through in a taut tone.

“Once again, I’m nothing but confused.” You admitted, then brushed past rather abruptly to once again escape the admittance. You still couldn’t do it, say you were hoping for something out of this, and you weren’t sure when that unwilling nature would stop. It is a common action to run nowadays. You didn’t know why you kept giving the situation said mind, because it only seemed to be getting you into something that Dan was right in pleading over you needing to know nothing about.

The only difference between this time and the last was that now Dan got mad.

“Hey.” His voice wasn’t apologetic any more, nor easing the situation down, “[Y/N]-“ You closed your door fast, shocked at what you were hearing. He almost sounded authoritative over you, talking clearly through the wood as he had been on your tail instead of giving you the space.

“We’re going to have this talk right now.” Déjà vu socked you, but when you were about to ignore him he had the audacity to jiggle the knob. Your own nerves frayed, a final push of the vase that held all those sensitivities touched and pangs you were swallowing down faster than they were coming. Shatter.

It ignited your movements, nearly tripping over yourself to get back to the door and throw it open.

“Talk!? Now you want to talk?” You leered, “Please, try not to confuse me this time, Doctor.”

“No way, this is not my fault. I just walked in from work. You can’t run from us- from me every time this happens.” Dan pressed you, his own choice of words sloppy and making your frown twitch. You scoffed away the initial fear of seeing him in such a way, and asked, “What the hell do you want me to do, then? Be a part of this whole production, or the oblivious third wheel?” You threw your arms open at him, “We can’t keep acting like we can have both.”

He was silent, and you swallowed before going on. “I can’t be asked to understand it, asked to keep calm when you two won’t hide all these atrocities from me, then be ostracized when I decide to help instead of working against it.” Dan opened his mouth, and you jutted at him, “Covering up what’s going on under our feet every goddamn day, it’s getting borderline-”

“You sound like Herbert more and more each time I talk to you.” Dan interrupted, and it pulled a handbrake in the rage vehicle. Your track of thought spun out, then sent the spiral downwards as your eyes sank. Catching your tongue on the inside of your cheek, you rocked back on your heels.

“It can’t be that much. You’d begin fucking me in that basement every time we got into these arguments if that was true.” You replied, a hand trailing up to your mouth to cover it only after it was said.

He stepped forward, and you felt a strong dig into your hip. “Don’t push m-“ You took the first movement to be in his face once more, but then looked down, expecting to see a hand on your side. You were met with his arms kept to himself, breathing a little heavier and the muscle against your thigh a growing erection.

Averting your gaze, feeling the embarrassment and the shock all cumulating in its newfound home in your chest. You looked back up at him, everything untying from tight reigns and letting yourself feel frightened – unapologetically in the way your eyes were blown out, neck tight in a swallow that barely went down.

He walked you back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Your hands shot to his shoulders, his back against the door for a minute as you were frozen to the spot. You tried to talk, but all the vitriol just pooled into spit on your tongue, and you responded the only way you knew how; when you pushed him back, he let his hands take your hips, keeping close as he murmured significantly quieter.

“You have no…idea…” He shook his head, and after another moment’s hesitation – a thread in your self-control, your apathy, your confusion – you stopped pushing. You let him press his chest against yours, hesitant to kiss but close enough to each other that you felt his breath on your jaw. Sharing the space, he cocked his head slightly and asked, “You really wanna know what we do in that basement, [Y/N]?”

You sucked in another breath, feeling your own arousal cause your eyes to water alongside emotions, struggling in everything to either answer him or try to hide it all again. His grip loosened, but his dick was still going strong against your thigh and his breathing was so uneven that it was hard to know if he was just as scared after getting the aggression out or not.

“If only you could be this brave when telling me,” You tsked, a hand on the back of his neck that was ghost light in case he wanted to shoulder it off. Like an old support to a poor quality camping tent, he suddenly caved, mouth pressed into yours and a whimper of what you could almost taste as anguish on your tongue.

It was impossible to deny him, unbearable to act as though you hated him even when he lashed out. If anything, it added this muddy layer that made him harder to ignore, harder to resist to know he had passion despite his amicable disposition otherwise. He seemed to feel the same, willing to chase you down just to confront something just as hard to put to bed. The hand on his neck became firm, your other hand holding to his bicep to keep both of you steady. You pulled away, still frowning hard as you glowered up. He looked back down, conflicted with a hard brow, but sweat was already formed on his forehead.

“Damn you.” You whispered, smiling when his eyes boggled almost immediately. He pushed against you with his shoulders, and you merely held him as the both of you fell back on your bed. The pressure it caused – hips pinned to yours – made him shiver almost entirely throughout his body. Like you were something that he shouldn’t have touched, a static shock making him flinch before his shoulders finally slumped and he had all his weight against you. “Not so tall now, are you, Dr. Cain?” You groaned, but suddenly he ducked his head.

A few drags of his clothed crotch against yours, and you realized he was doing more than riding a journey upwards to some sort of release. The release was happening now. Still, you merely clenched your own muscles, sighing raggedly as you pulled your arms over his shoulders, let him finish with breathless attempts to reel back in.

“I haven’t…” The first words were only audible if you kept an ear hovered over his lips, his hands white knuckling your shirt as he held on, “I haven’t…felt this way…i-in a long time.”

Dazed from what had happened, you stammered, “It’s…It’s fine, I haven’t either.” You choked slightly, uncertain if that had really been given away after all this time spent holding back. It was sugarcoating an awkward moment if not the lopsided truth: You couldn’t remember the last time you had even felt an urge to date, to pursue something more than just tiptoeing around prospects of a boyfriend. Did he feel the same?

Still, this wasn’t necessarily the fix-all. He was far fucking from it, but the same hurt that came after you tried to dislike the man was pulled to the front of your mind when he let go, pushing himself off of you.

“I can leave.” He rasped, rickety to stand but doing it in a way that was almost affirming that he was going anyway. Another surge that took the fuzz out of your throat instead of in got you to squeak out, “No, Dan, I want you…to… I…” You almost couldn’t speak, choking as you got the last two words out and felt your own pang in your gut, falling downwards until your knees flexed, realizing you had said enough of a truth. You wanted him.

Quickly, you then shrugged it off, “It’s your call.”

When you looked up, it must’ve been all over your face – and just like you couldn’t even begin to hate him, Dan was drawn back in, pulling his arms back around you and latching on for dear life. Still tense, you watched him slide around you, fitting the squared shoulders in a spoon that made you slowly release, finally settling chest to chest on your sides.

“Fuck. How are you being this cute even when we’re chewing each other out?” He then asked, but before you could answer, his hand replaced itself on your hip, the other on the back of your head as he angled right and came close again. Your hands on his chest and another taken back noise out of an occupied mouth, the kiss was deeper than the first, the last instance this happened.

You didn’t think, and the recognition you had anticipated another time made you whimper into his mouth, the same pain and worry now against him and there for him. His hand went [to your hair to scratch through short tufts/ran down the length of your hair] in a soothing motion. It was like he was apologizing, but you pulled off when you considered taking it again.

“Man, was that enough to help you after a long day?” You spoke with a grudge, but when he looked down at you to see you wipe your mouth, his hazel color was cloudy.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” He hummed, an arm around your waist, “Come here,” It didn’t take a lot to have you now laying on top of him, hiding in his shoulder as you sighed out the frustration that still lingered.

You understood it, even sympathized now that it was all sweat out as you replied, “I shouldn’t have…” Trailing off, you pulled your mouth out from its spot on his collarbone, facing him fully while laying on top of him. “I shouldn’t be so quick to bail. You were right, and I don’t know how many times I have to say that before we can be friends again.” You shook your head, resting back under his chin as you sighed, “I just don’t know what you…or Herbert want from me, I guess. It scares me, makes me want to drop it all before things…”

“Get hard?” He asked, and you quickly replied, “No, I can…I want to be here when it gets hard. I just don’t know whether you want me to.”

“…What about when I get hard?” Dan joked, and you laughed under your breath, “Don’t change the subject, you were yelling in my face like half an hour ago.” His hand clasped the back of your neck gently, and he once again reiterated, “And I don’t know how many times I have to say that I shouldn’t have done that.”

Another soft kiss against his jaw, pressing your forehead into the crook where you found it felt safer than you had let yourself feel in weeks. Despite the body possibly still on the steps, you could let yourself have that for the night. You shook your head against him, and only whispered, “I want to understand, Dan. I do.”

“But, even though I’m trying,” You then sat up, straddling him, “You two have to decide what part I’m playing, alright? And for the love of…God, please agree on it.” You urged, shaking your head again with a cheeky tilt, “Because I can’t be expected to play both the clueless…roommate,” Your hand rested on his chest, admiring the gentle outlines of his ribs, the warm hair on his sternum that made you scoff again at trying to call this situation chaste, “And also be the accomplice.”

He took your hand, squeezing slightly before then pulling it to his lips as you murmured on, distracted at his downcast eyes, “Officer Dyer…knows…”

Your eyes grew, seeing Dan’s own trail up as you stopped speaking, his smirk falling at the beginning of the sentence. “Dyer? What does he have to do with this?”

You looked down suddenly, the last of the romance stomped out fast. “Dan, I actually do need to talk to you about something.”

He nodded at that, but then looked up again after one last kiss on your hand, “Okay, but…let me get out of these pants first.”

~

“With scissors?” Dan gawked, looking over at you from across the kitchen island incredulously. He had gotten into a loose Miskatonic sweater and green and blue plaid pajama bottoms. You yourself were in a tired DEVO shirt from your high school years, a pair of shorts with Snoopy adorning your thighs and almost going to your knees. You took the spoon out of your mouth, the jar of peanut butter in the other hand as you said for what felt like the thousandth time that day, “With scissors.”

“He really thinks he can find something on us after all this time?” Dan muttered, shaking his head, “See, this is why I’m all over the place. He could if we aren’t careful.” You glanced around, the few little evening lights plugged in above the counters circling the both of you, and asked, “Well, then enlighten me so I can better…navigate this with you.”

He looked back at you, pursing his lips at that, and you waved your hand over the empty space around your head, “Listen, I just want to understand the missing pieces between then and now.” You sucked in another breath, “And I’m not asking you to-“

“Hey. I told you,” Dan leaned over, a hand wrapped around your wrist and a gentle squeeze making your eyes still on his. “I’m going to be telling you everything from now on, even when I’m being an ass.” He took in a breath, hands returning to his mug as he braced, but with a strong exhale he then tipped his head towards you. “So, tell me. What did you want to know about Peru?”

“[He/she wants / They want] to know about Peru?”

You looked up at Herbert as he entered the kitchen now, a Nosferatu in the way he emerged from the shadows. You replied, “Whatever you two want to tell me about it. Dyer said it was all undocumented, so no worries if there’s a war crime here and there.” The name echoed in your head, a mark for later: Chapham, too. What did he have to do with it?

“You’re breaking into the jar rather early.” Herbert then commented, and you made a face of exasperation at him, another spoonful in your mouth already.

“Get off [his/her/their] back. We’ve all had a long day.” Dan defended, making you nod solemnly as you muttered back, “Thank you, Dan. Now, both of you.” You then rolled off the counter, setting everything in your hands down and folding them in front of yourself.

“Tell me about what came after the massacre.”

Chapter Text

It was maybe two days later that you realized he wasn’t going to be your only companion in his house.

The fact it had taken two days was a story within itself.

~ SIX MONTHS EARLIER ~

You didn’t know if Dan mentioning that the place used to be a mortuary had weaseled its way into your head, but it had been impossible to sleep within its walls since moving in. It would’ve been nice if he had given heads up before you had clambered your stuff from your parents’ house to travel, thoroughly planned which utility bill you were taking off his hands when it came to the point of moving in with him: making all these pressures of the house easier to handle.

Still, a period of adjustment wasn't forever, and it also made your commute to work quicker. There had once been hopes you wouldn’t be doing the courier job after five years, but even after moving out, there remained a love for the familiar notch you had whittled yourself into as a paper runner.

If anything, this was just the first step and a couple years of rooming with Dan and keeping at the job. Besides, the new roomie was no slouch, proving to be a genuine personality outside of work. He had even helped you haul some things to where they needed to go, a little insistent on handling whatever you deemed needed to be stowed away, saying he’d worry about it while you focused on getting comfortable in your room down the hall. You assumed there was either a basement or an attic he was referring to but he seemed to change subjects before you could figure out what this mysterious storage room was.

The first couple of nights felt like that silent surface level of the living situation, and who knew that it’d only be forty eight hours before the first ripple on the water blew over you, revealing something underneath. It passed like a presence over the house itself, which dragged you out of bed and to pace the living room in a fit of insomnia. An old bag of tea you had kept for nights like this one was boiled with tap water that you hoped wouldn’t taste off, and your eyes glazed over while viewing the graveyard on the other side of the street from the window in the front of the house.

Albeit your brain liked to play tricks with such ominous neighbors, it was almost like there was someone else here. Dan had either been kept at his job late or was long gone to bed, as you weren’t a police officer to his schedule. The least you could do was leave the nice soul who took you in be, appreciate the kind gestures when they came and ask for nothing more.

Come to think of it, that was how you liked it at the end of the day.

“Have you been at Miskatonic for long?” You asked him as you closed the last drawer on the dresser, most of your clothes finally put away, pulled from the sea of cardboard boxes in the corner.

Dan had been lost in thought, but now looked up from where he was breaking down the cardboard, keeping some chaos condensed for the both of your sakes. “Uh, yes. Yeah, I’ve been there since school, a little more than five years or so.”

You cocked your head, “Wow, really, I wonder how we’ve never run into each other until now then.” Smiling at him, he gave one back and sounded a little winded now, “Yeah, well… I was a little all over the place while I was a student.”

Fiddling with a dusty knick knack on top of the dresser, you scoffed, “What, a lot of parties? Don’t tell me you were in a frat or something. …couldn’t even see that.”

He gave you an incredulous look, one that made you snicker a little more before he sighed, “No, no. God, not a frat or anything. Just…got crazy at times, is all.”

You turned away and finally agreed with that. “Sure, I’d believe a hospital has its moments.”

He was silent after that, making you picture him playing beer pong and saying an awful chant with a group of jocks. You just couldn’t, though, laughing to yourself instead.

“[Y/N]?”

“Daniel Delta-Phi Cain.”

“Exc use me?”

Practically feeling your mind fall back to the moment, the memory snapped away by a mutual line. Once said by Dan, now being said from the other end of the living room. You whipped around, skin tightening against your arms as you immediately sputtered out, “Huh?”

“Who are you?”

You set the mug down on the coffee table, unable to recognize the voice. A silhouette was spotted easily as your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you muttered, “What …?”

Scared as he tried to approach, you moved the same time he did, remaining across the room in a shuffle, nearing the hallway and now yelling, “Dan!”

“How do you know Dan?” He asked, and you saw a glint of wire-framed glasses as he stepped into the dim spotlight of a streetlamp you had been standing in moments ago, face shrouded as it tickled his shoulders and gave him an outline. “Don’t tell me he brought another tramp home.”

The lights then turned on, Dan at the mouth of the hallway and you pressed against the wall. You two saw each other clearly now, less than thrilled by the looks. He was a clean-cut man in a sky blue dress shirt, black slacks, and matching tie. Short dark hair, green eyes that pinned you down just from a look of utter confusion. A stark contrast between your [unshaven/makeup free] face, and Dan’s lack of pants altogether since he had been sleeping maybe forty seconds prior to this moment. Albeit the tie had been a little undone with the late hours, and when you saw the doctor’s blade in his hand alongside a pair of wet looking gloves, you gave him a frightened look in the eye.

“Who are you?” The man asked, and you parroted back, “Who am I!? Who are you?” Dan waved his hand while rubbing his eyes, and tried to ease the shouting match in a groggy wince, “Herbert-“

“Herbert?” You echoed the newfound name. He turned to you, “[Y/N], hey-“

“[Y/N],” Herbert spoke with a cocked brow, another unimpressed look making you focus on the blade he was now sliding into his pants pocket.

“W…Were you going to stab me?” You then asked, trying to lower your voice as Herbert shrugged rather nonchalantly.

“No, no one is getting stabbed!” Dan insisted, and you remained pressed to the wall with a doubtful glance over at the other man. “Guess I…should explain this, huh?” He asked, and you looked to the ceiling in exasperation, “Maybe so!”

“When did you start dating this one?” Herbert then asked, and you quickly deflected, “Date!? No, I just live here.” He glowered as Dan explained, “Do you remember when I said I was bringing an extra roommate into the house? Someone to make things a little easier?”

“Is that why you did it?” Herbert asked, “I thought you were just bored, needing more companionship.” You then cringed, reeling at the conversation before interrupting again, “Have you been here this whole time!?”

“You have no place to question my presence. It’s only been two days for you. I’ve been here far longer than that.” Herbert corrected, and you shot another speechless look at Dan, who was starting to sweat under the interrogation. Still, you then asked, “Where have you been, huh? Figured a roommate would make himself known sooner than two days.”

“I don’t know why you need to be concerned with that, [Y/N].” Herbert replied, and you shook your head in disbelief – but when you found nothing to say, you simply shut up. Dan went on, “I should’ve told you, but… I thought…”

“It’d scare you out of the deal.” Herbert finished for him. You creased your brow, not looking at either of them, wondering again if there was a basement or attic, making the man’s absence up until now all the more concerning. Dan was looking at you, and after another beat you sighed, “Well… It’s not.” He smiled, but you quickly clarified, “Not right now, not after I got all my things sorted. It’d be cheap to tap out over…” You wordlessly threw a hand towards Herbert, making his nose turn up slightly and Dan take a deep breath.

“Well, since we’re here,” Herbert then spoke, slowly as though he felt the tension in the room but waded it without second thought, “Stay out of the basement, and keep your business where it belongs. Any decent member of a household knows to do that unless there’s personal gain and trust me-“ He shook his head rather warily, “There isn’t anything for you in there.”

“Also, put the cap back on the toothpaste from time to time.” Dan snorted. You tried to laugh but only nodded with a less than pleased expression. Your eyebrows then rose slowly as the words sank in, as though he had admitted to killing multiple people and was keeping their hacked up bodies in the basement right then and there. Dan was making a face too, but hey. At least you knew the answer to one of the questions that kept you awake that night.

It was a basement rather than an attic.

“Well, it actually makes sense as to where all that tacky luggage came from.” Herbert then observed, making your eyes come back up as he asked both you and Dan, “There’s got to be a better place to put that.”

“My stuff’s in the basement, huh?” You murmured, and Dan replied quickly, “It’s out of your way, Herbert, and you agreed that it was when I put it there. I asked, so don’t act like I didn’t.” You smiled at the floor, more from the tickled horror he was near everything you owned that wouldn’t go in your bedroom rather than laughter at the strange predicament this was turning out to be with a light shining on it.

You then looked back up at him, and murmured, “Well, with this I think I’m going back to bed. It was nice meeting you, Herbert.” You turned back down the hall, and Dan watched with a pitiful expression as you slunk off. They exchanged a look behind your back, and you only knew because Dan had muttered under his breath, “You couldn’t just say hello? Maybe when it’s light outside so [he/she’s / they’re] not scared half to death?”

Herbert said something less than positive about you, and you decided you weren’t angry enough to ask him to repeat himself as you closed your door, the dark of your room ten times deeper than what you had out in the living room.

~ SIX MONTHS AHEAD ~

“Morning, Mr. Iguana.” You murmured, Herbert giving you a pause before focusing back on the coffee pot. You had been sitting quietly, having woken up ten minutes prior and getting your morning tea drinking and reminiscing in. It had been a long night, one full of the two men giving you some context to everything. You had to admit they both told the Peru story rather well. Like it had been rehearsed for some quiet reason, for a possible interrogation... Still, you were still absorbing it, even now.

“Good morning, [Y/N]. I hope my explanations about what I must do to make the re-agent last night amidst everything else we had to tell you were simple to follow. I need you to understand in order to be a better help with the work.”

“I followed.” You assured him, earning a pleased hum as you even elaborated, “Amniotic fluid from the males seems to be more potent than the females, but both are necessary depending on what reactions we have yet to observe from them. Both are to be studied regardless, which I think is a thorough study.”

He stopped pouring the coffee. “…I’d say I’m impressed, but I can’t tell if you’re just repeating after me or not. Still, imitation is a form of flattery.”

“You’re flattered?” You prodded, seeing him turn from the corner of your eye, and he gave you a ghastly look before replying, “Do you want me to say I’m dazzled?”

“No, Herbert.”

“That I’m flabbergasted? In awe at your ability to regurgitate information back out at me?”

“Stop, Herbert.” You smiled at him, and then affirmed, “I’m doing what I can to understand, just give me the time of day and a few demonstrations, and it’ll be a more than reciting back to you if that’s what you want.”

He gave you a look up and down, the usual judgement, but you almost saw a smirk begin to form on his face. A welcome compared to the cold, crooked expressions he sometimes wore when you were in the room with him – slowly melting off with the interactions, but you didn’t get a chance to linger before Dan’s voice came from the other room.

“Hey, [Y/N], why haven’t you thrown this away?” He walked in holding a familiar shirt. The missing sleeve made the back of your head hurt, recalling the night you had been manhandled by…well, one of the demonstrations you were asking to be a part of. “Huh, thought I threw it out. Where was it?” You asked, finishing your tea and beginning to stand. Dan replied, “It was sitting on the back of the sofa, just hanging out like it was laundry.” He then got a spark in his eye, and carefully began pulling it over his shoulders. You giggled as he stuck his long arm through the ripped sleeve, and chided, “Come on, you could make this a new fad: one ripped sleeve, like some sort of werewolf after a long night out.”

“Yes.” Herbert then spoke up, “I figured I was going to sew it back on.” You stopped, holding the mug over the sink and staring at him in surprise, but he quickly turned away from the both of you and spoke fast as he left the room, “I’ve learned how to sew what with the research, needing things to be in one piece for certain projects. If it’s not totally destroyed, I don’t see why we should get rid of it. That’s all.”

Dan was now staring as he took the shirt off, smiling in a way that made you shake your head at him. “He’s just being nice.” You reminded him, and in a way reminded yourself. The man flattened the shirt on the counter, walking around in a playful mosey. “I don’t know if you know this, but-“ He was standing beside you now, watching you busy yourself with washing the cup out, “Herbert isn’t exactly nice to other people. I think it’s a little care behind that nice deed.”

“I asked if he’d keep showing me his work, he’s returning the favor.” You insisted, turning away from the sink now and drying your hands. Dan tilted his head, and you gave his lips a careful look of consideration. One pause, one glance back down the hall, but when you were sure Herbert had gone downstairs you hopped up on your toes to meet him in a quick kiss.

He craned his head slightly, letting you peck a few times before you flattened your feet, brushing off the casualty and clearing your throat as you threw the dishtowel you had been drying your hands with over one shoulder.

“I won’t stop him.” You looked at the counter in front of you, ignoring the color in Dan’s face and lingering stare down, smile more smitten than smug.

“I did like that shirt.”