Chapter Text
"My notes!" The satchel sailed through the air, landing flat on the floor.
Dan spared the leaking gas cloud one more look before picking it up. There wasn't anything he could do. Herbert had slipped from his grasp, and his priority was to keep Meg safe.
Rushing after her through the doorway, however, he felt as if a weight had descended on his chest. Dan thought of the woman's corpse under his hands, a life he couldn't bring back despite his best efforts. Each press on her chest had been futile.
West's notes could only help him so much, and without him, he would be lost.
He stopped short, and Meg turned about to call, "What're you doing? Come on!"
"I can't leave without him!"
Meg scowled at him and looked ready to argue. Dropping the satchel on the hallway floor, he shook his head. Her eyes cut to the side, and she gnashed her teeth. Rushing toward the fire axe case behind him, she broke the glass.
Dan nodded, grateful for her help, and ran back inside.
The reanimated dead stumbled toward him, their hands clawing for his clothing and hair. One corpse's fingernails slashed the right side of his face, causing him to cry out in pain.
Smoke filled the air. Bringing his shirt up to his mouth, Dan crouched low. The axe swung behind him, Meg grunting with exertion.
Herbert kicked along the floor, his frenzied gasps for air becoming weaker. Seizing a scalpel that had fallen from a tray, Dan crawled along the floor and rose on his heels. He felt as if his face was burning from the gash, and blood dripped onto the floor.
The intestine, slimy and pale, stood out to him in the low lighting. Herbert's writhing body, clothed in black, had slowed considerably, his futile attempts to free himself becoming weaker. Naked legs framed the scene, the reanimated reaching down for him. Dan launched himself past them, and caught himself on the tile with his elbow.
The intestine burst as he cut through it, stool, blood, and body matter scattering along the floor. Dan gagged from the odor and swallowed down bile in his throat, the scalpel slipping out of his grasp.
Herbert collapsed to the floor. Dan grasped his arm and shook him once, West unresponsive to him. With a grunt, he lifted him up. Herbert weighed more than he looked, his head leaning against Dan's shoulder, and his arms limp at his sides. Cain coughed from the gas, and felt woozy, the room spinning before him.
Meg's form anchored him. Silhouetted against the doorway, she swung at one of the corpses, the axe ripping a chunk of meat from its hip. "Dan, come on!"
Hands seized at his shirt, tearing the cloth loose. The axe whooshed through the air by him, slicing one of the hands off to drop to the floor. Meg, her eyes bloodshot, hovered close in his vision. She wheezed, "I can't do this much more!"
He stumbled loose of the other hand, nearly dropping Herbert as the reanimated corpse fell, taking down a slab with it. The clanging metal drew the attention of the other corpses, who snapped their heads about at the noise. Seizing their chance, the two rushed out, Meg leading.
She paused in the hallway, bending to scoop up the satchel. A hand shot around the side of the wall at the bend in the walkway before the elevator. Meg gasped in surprise and rammed the head of the axe against the reanimated corpse's chest, knocking it back against the wall behind to stun it.
Meg lowered her head, and her shoulders shook.
"You all right?" Dan asked.
"I wanna go home!" She sobbed. She exhaustedly stumbled forward and jammed her finger against the elevator call button. She waved Dan through as the doors parted before staggering in after him.
Meg pressed the ground floor button, and then the command to close the doors. She slumped down, the axe falling from her hands as the elevator began to rise. She stared up at Dan and thumbed at the tears falling from her eyes.
Dan knew he looked a sight, covered in blood with Herbert limply lying against him, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. "Thank you."
"Wasn't for you." Meg muttered.
Dan waited in anticipation as the elevator slowly ascended, the fire alarm sirens blaring in his ears.
There was medical equipment upstairs, but there would be too many questions asked. Herbert wasn't supposed to be in the morgue to begin with, and he wouldn't forgive Dan if his work was exposed.
That left one remaining option.
"I gotta get him to the lot."
People rushed by them on the ground floor, with surprised exclamations thrown their way. Dan felt a hand grab him and call out that he needed to take Herbert to a room, but he shook the owner off.
Meg's blonde hair cut through the crowd, Dan barely keeping up with her. At the rate she was moving, Dan wasn't sure if she was trying to lose him in the chaos. Voices called his and her names, but the calls were easily drowned in the pandemonium of medical staff rushing about, and leading confused patients to safety.
Shivering, Meg wrapped her arms about herself in the lot. She turned to look at Dan, her expression lost. "Where'd you park?"
"C'mon." Dan took the lead, feeling the late autumn wind chill his skin. He felt sympathy for Meg, who hadn't even pants to wear. An ambulance rushed by them, while someone screamed. Had he been on shift, Cain would have rushed back toward the hospital, but all that mattered at the moment was getting to his car to revive Herbert.
Herbert had given him a little placating smile when inquiring about the opportunity to be his roommate. It had been a manipulative and sleazy move on West's part in retrospect, but Dan didn't want to consider the possibility of never seeing him smile again.
Meg fumbled with the car door, at last getting the driver's side open before popping the lock on the back seat. She switched the radio on, and a breaking news bulletin regarding a disturbance at the hospital immediately came over the air waves. The words "police dispatched" made Cain's heart pound. He knew they had little time to leave before the hospital was effectively choked off from the main roads.
Dan lowered Herbert to the backseat. He opened Herbert's shirt, and began to apply pressure, alternating between that and blowing into his mouth.
"Dan." Meg's hand appeared on his shoulder.
He wanted to knock her hand off. Instead, he glanced down at the satchel and pulled the reagent.
"Dan, no!" Meg seized his wrist. "You don't know what it'll do!"
"Herbert's taken it before. He's used to it."
Meg glared at him. "Will you tell me anything?"
"Later." Dan filled the hypodermic needle, though his mind, in his haste, began to play tricks on him. Had Herbert said two cc's, or was it three? Had he filled it up too far? The numbers seemed to mold into each other on the tube in the glow of the green light. A risk of an overdose was too great, but he hadn't much time to think before they could be caught by a passerby.
A tearing noise broke into his thoughts, and he glanced over to see Meg leaning back around the front passenger seat, and wrapping a strip of cloth from Dan's coat tightly around Herbert's upper arm.
Dan's fingers shook around the syringe, and Meg warned, "If you can't get a hold of yourself, I'll do it."
Dan swallowed and closed his eyes to re-center himself. Opening them, he reached out to tap Herbert's exposed vein. He'd done this before, he assured himself, and under worse circumstances, with West awake and shaking from symptoms of withdrawal. This was easier, he told himself as he depressed the plunger.
Meg's eyes flicked over to his. "Nothing's happening."
Dan scowled. If this didn't work, then he would have to reanimate Herbert, which was a gamble in and of itself. If it came to that, he wasn't sure if he had enough strength left to fight West off if he returned crazed and angered from the pain of rising from the grave.
The concern, however, dissipated as Herbert's eyes moved behind his lids, and he swallowed before opening them. West coughed, looking blearily around, and grasping for purchase.
Dan grabbed his wrist. "Herbert! It's me!"
Herbert tugged against him, and then slowly focused on him. "Dan." He adjusted his glasses. "My notes, where are they?"
Dan lifted the satchel, and Herbert sighed, lying back down against the seat.
Meg frowned. "Well, I'll be." She turned to Dan. "You are taking me home, aren't you?"
He didn't wait for Herbert to make a comment. "Yeah."
As Meg twisted back around to buckle her seat belt, Dan spared Herbert one last look. "Leave her alone."
Herbert nodded. He twisted to face the back of the seat, his breaths heavy.
Meg had little to say as Dan drove her home, only speaking to direct him, directions which he already knew, or to complain about how fast or how recklessly he was driving. She once looked over her shoulder at Herbert but said nothing.
Herbert, meanwhile, was quiet on the back seat. Dan occasionally glanced up at the rearview mirror to see him resting, a hand on his side.
The lights were still on at Meg's home as Dan pulled up. Not waiting for him to put the car in park, she slipped out of the passenger side door, slamming it shut behind her.
Dan rushed around the car. "Meg, Meg!" She waved his grabbing hand off, and he stopped short. "Meg, please!"
She swung about on him. "What do you want me to say, Dan?! My father is dead, and I was raped, all because of you!"
"Meg, I'm sorry, I didn't want you to get hurt!"
"Then why didn't you tell me anything?! You lied to me, you manipulated me and now look what's happened!" She pointed at the car. "Not once, not once did I ever hear you try to defend me when Herbert insulted me! Your cat is dead because of him, and you still chose him over me!"
"Meg, I didn't—"
"You defiled bodies for him, Dan!"
Dan closed his mouth at that.
Meg turned away and stomped up the front walk. "Oh, of course it's unlocked!" She exclaimed as she pushed open the front door. "Who knows, maybe someone stole something while I was kidnapped!"
"Meg, I'll help you, I—"
"Stay out!" She exclaimed, shoving him back over the threshold. "Don't you come in here! You aren't welcome!"
Dan stared blankly at her, lost for words.
"I'll give you two hours. Then I'm calling the police."
"Meg, please—"
"You know what, I hope you're happy with him. Have a nice life." Meg slammed the door in his face.
Dan stood there, as if waiting for Meg to reopen the door and say, "Kidding." When it didn't happen, he turned to get back into the car.
Herbert, his shirt rebuttoned, was sitting up with a hand over his chest.
"Not a word about her." Dan warned.
Herbert abided, and Dan threw the car into drive.
After a few minutes, Herbert commented, "It's painful."
Dan met Herbert's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Did the best I could with what I had."
"Passable." Herbert said and then slumped down against the door. Dan figured that the man probably needed sleep and decent food at the very least, rather than more of the reagent in his arm.
The street was oddly quiet as Dan pulled into the driveway, making him feel as if the events of the night hadn't occurred at all. He wanted to fall into bed. He twisted around in his seat, only to see Herbert had already climbed out.
Getting out and turning to lock the car, Dan felt disconnected from himself. It was if he was hovering just over his own body and watching himself make robotic motions.
The reflection of the three angry red gashes in the mirror brought Dan back to reality. He figured he would probably get scars on his right cheek from them. The disinfectant stung, and the bandage closed over them like a flap. He felt annoyed that West wasn't helping him but demanding him to do so would lead to a pointless argument over whose fault, exactly, the injury was, Dan for being careless, or Herbert for creating the reagent to begin with.
Holding a hastily cobbled together sandwich of turkey, tomato, and lettuce between his teeth, Dan shucked his blood-soaked clothes to pull on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. While he'd rather burn the clothes to remove any evidence, there just wasn't time to do anything other than stuffing them in a garbage bag.
Sirens headed for the university hospital sounded in the distance, causing him to drop things as he quickly sorted through the objects he would leave behind.
Rufus's cat tree and toys were easy, as were a few outfits he had been considering throwing out from overuse. His textbooks and ID's were coming with him, as well as any awards he had been given. Not that they mattered much – honor roll and the dean's list felt hollow to him now.
He only had so much room in his suitcase, however. A frame broke, and in frustration, he put his hands in his hair. Abandoning his task, he went to check on Herbert.
Much to his frustration, he found Herbert carefully reading through his notes as if nothing was amiss. Raising his head, Herbert commented in annoyance, "You dropped it. Everything's out of place."
"Pack your shit." Dan threw a shirt at him. "We're leaving."
"I'd rather stay, thank you." Herbert sidestepped the garment.
"And why?" Dan asked, pointing at the window. "Don't you hear the sirens? We can't stay here."
"I little doubt they were called by Miss Halsey." Herbert said with a roll of his eyes.
"She promised two hours!"
"Of course, you believe her." He scoffed. "Ah, yes, you and Meg can have your pristine existence. Send me a Christmas card or some such, why don't you?"
Dan seized his shoulder at that. Herbert glared at him once before looking away, his fist clenching and unclenching. Dan wrapped an arm around him, hugging him close. He kissed the top of Herbert's head, smelling sweat, blood, and the tiniest hints of spray in his hair. He could get used to that.
He felt Herbert sigh against him. Dan lowered his mouth to his ear. "Get your things."
West slept in the passenger seat as Dan drove. He looked smaller, and somewhat harmless as he lay, covered by Dan's coat. Dan hadn't seen him sleep for quite a while until now and figured it was probably because most of the reagent had been used to save him from dying.
Looking at him, Dan knew that he could end it, right then and there. He could kill him while he slept. But then, that would leave him without anyone to cling to. He'd wanted the ability to bring the dead back to life, and West had it.
He'd harden his heart and hand it over to Herbert.
By the time Meg would've called the police, they were well beyond Arkham's city limits. The town Dan pulled off at was dark, with several of its businesses closed down for the night. A motel's yellow light drew him like a beacon.
He felt tired and grumpy, his nudging of Herbert harsher than originally intended. "C'mon, help me unload our stuff."
The kid on duty reminded Dan of himself when he had been a freshman. Fairly scrawny and skinny, he had dark circles under his eyes, and took the cash without a word. Dan figured the kid was overworked, but for a moment was relieved that there weren't any questions asked.
Herbert nudged him as they moved down the hallway. "Keep your head down. You will probably need a new car."
Dan wanted to tell him to shut up but was too tired. He merely shrugged.
The motel room was cramped but clean. Dan took a look at the twin beds and wanted to flop down on one.
"I would say that you have earned a rest." Herbert went to the closet and dragged out the suitcase stand. "I'll take care of this."
Dan pulled off his shoes. "I'm getting a shower."
Under the water, Dan smelled the rot of blood, waste, and sweat lift from him. He felt as if he was wrapped in cellophane, the hiss of the shower head and patter of water against his skin barely registering to him. He saw the reanimated dead standing before him, Halsey's and Hill's destroyed bodies, Meg screaming on the slab, and the reagent going into Herbert's arm. His reality had completely shifted, and he didn't know what to do about any of it.
Instead, he forced himself to focus on one thing at a time, namely shutting off the spigot.
Clad in only a towel, Dan felt self-conscious as he stood before Herbert.
West, however, was non-plussed as he pointed at the bed. "I've laid out a pair of your pajamas."
Dan's eyes flicked to the clothing items, and he felt embarrassed at him going through his effects.
Herbert moved away from him and headed over to the desk. The satchel was open, and his notes were spread out on it. The very few remaining reagent syringes were wrapped inside a smaller black bag. "I'll need to make more of the reagent as soon as I can. If these shatter, my progress will be lost."
"We're a little busy right now." Dan muttered, taking his pajamas and heading back into the bathroom. Herbert had caught him naked once or twice when they lived together, but Dan wasn't in the mood to show him that level of intimacy.
He brushed his hair in the mirror and returned. "If you can get your nose out of your notes for five minutes, we have to worry about the next few days." He hissed.
Herbert raised his head. "You think I don't know how to do this? I've been on the run more than once. This is something you can learn from me."
"Oh goodie." Dan muttered, lying down on the bed.
Pushing out the chair, Herbert walked over to the side of the bed. "It's all right, Dan. You can sleep." He smoothed his hand over the blanket.
Dan grasped his hand, and Herbert sighed. "I won't wander off."
Dan slowly let go, and Herbert tucked the blanket up against his chin. The gesture was strangely intimate. "Though, I have to ask, why did you come back for me?"
"It's your project, not mine," Dan mumbled.
"No one would have known." Herbert tested.
Dan turned his head away from him. "Do you have to ask me now? I'm tired."
Herbert stroked his hand through the blanket. "I owe you my life, Daniel. I should think I am allowed to ask why."
Dan closed his eyes. He wanted Herbert to stop asking him questions. He wanted to wake up back on campus as if nothing had happened. "You changed everything for me," Dan mumbled, "Is that not enough?"
The bed dipped as Herbert rose, and Dan drifted off to sleep.
Fragments of dreams flickered in and out of Dan's unconscious mind. He saw Meg accusatorily glaring at him, or pointing at him from a witness stand, or from behind the bars of a prison cell.
Dead bodies and viscera filled his vision, held him in an embrace, and whispered for him to join them. "Dan, Dan Cain…"
Herbert, his expression inscrutable, peered down at him in a few of his dreams, towering over him like a colossus, with tinted light on the lenses of his glasses obscuring his eyes. In others, however, he cowered or lay on the floor, pathetic, and begging for Dan to help him. In the former, Dan felt a sense of reverence and fear, and in the latter, he felt a sense of protectiveness.
In one dream, Herbert sat on the floor, but with a playful smile on his face as he patted at something out of view. He glanced up, and enticingly gestured Dan down to look. Rufus, covered in blood and eyes wild, lurched up into his face with a snarl.
Dan's eyes snapped open at that, and he looked around to register his surroundings.
The desk lamp was on, and Herbert was leaning over it, engrossed in his task. Dan stared deliriously at him, and Herbert tensed, turning to look at him. Dan felt frozen in place by the intensity of his glare, partly annoyed and partly angered. There was a sinister way about him, his hazel eyes boring into him.
Herbert's gaze, however, softened, and he pushed up his glasses on his nose. "Go back to sleep, Danny."