Work Text:
Alex Williams’ body hurt. Like radiating, bone deep, aching down to the cell type of hurt. It had somehow permeated from their skin feeling a bit itchy, to sometimes feeling strained when standing up, to “It feels like someone injected pure pain into all of my bone marrow”.
They were alone at the moment, assigned to disinfect one of the patient rooms in the facility. They had a spray bottle full of god-knows-what and an extremely large 2 way mirror to wipe down. They were asked to do it, given their height(had they gotten taller recently? They really didn’t want to check.) and the fact they weren’t doing anything at that specific moment in time. It did give them a space to internally complain without looking like they were angry at nothing, however, so it wasn’t completely bad.
They had noticed a few changes over the past few weeks, seemingly coinciding with the arrival of the Smiling Snatcher and the two of them spending time together. They had a lot of weird pains nowadays-joints aching when they never did before, eyes burning at seemingly nothing, their fingers randomly freezing up. It hadn’t become debilitating yet, but it was definitely more noticeable right at this moment. Maybe it was just the stress of finding out your boss has a pocket dimension in your workplace. That’ll probably do a number on you.
They also had another theory.
Oh and speak of the devil. There’s a knock on the door, and without it even opening, Alex knows exactly who it is. The knock is methodical, solid, and too evenly spaced to be another coworker. They don’t turn around when they hear it open. They wonder if he’s been watching through the mirror-they forgot it’s purpose in the brain fog haze of “How long has it been since my last ibuprofen?”.
His initial reaction to Alex’s misstep was almost laughable. It was barely even a reaction, not even a reprimand, just a quick redirection. Just get back to what you were doing. Keep contributing to this. Keep the engine going.
“Are you almost done?” He asks.
“Um-yeah.” Alex doesn’t turn around, looking down and away from the mirror. Even though they know objectively they have their goggles on, feeling the pressure around their eyes and can see the edges of the rims, they’re scared of what’ll be behind them. They hear footsteps approach closer, probably making sure their work is adequate. Lankmann makes a little “hmm” before his normal, human hand appears in Alex’s peripheral. By some miracle, they’re too tired to flinch.
“No nails.”
“Hmm?”
“You can’t have nails on underneath the gloves. They’ll rip.”
They looked down at their hands-the latex is stretched thin at the end, and there’s a few little tears at the edges. “Oh, sorry. I’ll take them off.” Their gaze doesn’t leave the floor, pretending to fiddle with their hands. There’s about a beat of silence and stillness. Nothing more is said, and Lankmann leaves.
After they hear the door shut, slow as it does, they take off their gloves, rotate their wrist. Their nail-biting habit had been intensified over the past while. No matter how much they chewed, or how close to the nail bed, they’d be regrown by the next morning. They think they’ve been getting a little longer over time, initially forming small points right by the skin and currently about ¼ of an inch out. Not that they’re paying attention to that(It gets harder not to). They curl their fingers in, press into what’s supposed to be the soft part right by the thumb. The skin doesn’t give.
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“I’m home.” They announce, to no response. They start taking off their shoes, and eventually, they hear slow, heavy footsteps treading towards them. Bright orange eyes peek around from the corner by the stairs, a hand curling on the wall. Alex studies it for a second, quickly comparing as thoroughly as they can. It’s nails had fused as part of it’s fingers, everything covered by one continuous skin. They quickly looked at their own hand to check in the quarter of a second before they made eye contact.
“Welcome back. Anything?” Clyde had generally stopped trying to make small talk ever since the discovery, only really wanting to talk about what was in room 66 and how to save it. The two of them had shared as much information with each other as possible after Alex had stumbled into its prison, but after that, there really wasn’t much more to say on a day to day basis. Clyde had become more restless in response, making sure to always be present whenever Alex returned. They saw each other sort of often beforehand, but now it was practically always there. Alex shakes their head.
“No. He’s been…weirdly normal with me. Ignoring the whole thing.”
“Hmm.” Clyde’s tail slaps the ground in frustration, another scar on the house to add to the list. It sighs loudly. “Are you going to eat?” Maybe it did care about them, beyond what they could offer. Or it just needed them alive.
“I don’t know.” They answered as a reflex. The radiating pain from several points in their body made them nauseous. It felt like there was something trying to wedge its way between their bones. “I feel like I’d throw up if I did.”
“That might mean you do need to eat.” Clyde argued. Alex sighed-it felt like a lot of built-up frustration had just been dropped directly on their chest.
“I’m not doing this, you can have whatever. I’m gonna shower.” Alex moved past them and up the stairs. Clyde didn’t have a response.
The nauseousness wasn’t the entire reason. It was a sort of self-test, how much they could push themselves, how much they had changed from the average human being. Part of their theory they were checking. They weren’t entirely sure what the protocol would be if they ended up passing out at work from malnutrition, though. They were hoping to have completely quit by then.
Or they were right about their theory.
They showered with the lights off-they had noticed their skin changing colors a few nights ago, initially brushing it off as their lightbulb dying out, but eventually noticing the even spacing between the hues. Their veins had become more visible too-although they had gone from a typical blue to something between green and black. It seemed to change and phase, as though the body wasn’t sure what to do with it’s leftover human parts(If that’s what was happening. Which, maybe it isn’t.). Maybe there was nothing running through them anymore.
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They had transitioned into getting ready for bed, picking up a pillow they had knocked off the previous night. They took a drink out of a probably very old water bottle left on the permanently-crowded nightstand next to their bed, Clyde standing in the doorway doing nothing but being antsy and forming a shadow that would be threatening to anyone else but Alex.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Clyde asks. “I can get you…crackers.” It listed out the only packaged food it knew Alex had in the house. Alex laughed, but it was weak and breathy.
“No, I’m okay. I just want to go to bed.”
“It’s 8 o’clock.”
“I know.” They screw the cap back on and do their best to put the bottle back down without knocking something else over. They could feel and see their hands shaking, something not lost on Clyde. It said nothing about it. Alex stretched their hands above their head before climbing into bed and waving at Clyde with one hand and turning off their lamp with the other. “G’night.” They turn and bury their face in their pillow, hearing Clyde step towards them, careful to make as little noise as possible. They almost laugh at the gesture.
“Good night.” Clyde’s hand briefly touches between their shoulder blades before heading to it’s spot on the floor. Alex takes comfort in the gesture for about a second before, suddenly, they feel something grow from that vertebrae. So, they were right.