Chapter Text
Pain flashed through his body suddenly and all at once. It was a new concept, everything was - it had never existed before.
He’d never had a body before. Or a conscious. Or a mind.
The pain made him sob, trying to curl in on himself; held by the wires and straps kept him pinned to the cold metal slab, the dirty white sheet covered his head and blocked his blurry vision. What he could see was vague, like a white shadow, swirling with colours he didn’t know yet, like drops of ink in water. Memories that were stolen told him what he was: wrong, not human. ‘Not yet’. Monster.
“Is… is it breathing?” A voice asked timidly, followed by a tapping and some footsteps making their way closer, “I can hear it, father, it’s breathing.”
The sheet was pulled away, his eyes still not able to focus. The room was bright, too bright. There was two figures, both quite tall, one seemed to be looming over him, but it was hard to tell.
“Will it understand?” the same figure asked, their cold hand touching his, “Will the brain remember?”
“There’s no telling.” The closer figure spoke with a colder voice, “Go, I don’t need your help, Brian, make sure the creature has a place to sleep.”
He could hear the person - Brian - leave, two slow footsteps followed by a tap, repeatedly, as he faded into nothing. He wondered how he knew what these things were, why he knew to wonder in the first place. Part of him felt like he’d woken up, a foggy memory not quite close enough but within sight.
There were fragments: a flash of red, the smell of dust after rain, the feel of itchy woolen jumpers, the sound of windchimes, the taste of warm bread. But he didn’t feel they were his. Like looking through the mind of another and seeing only touches of who they were, tiny seconds of what they loved. He couldn’t remember anything before now. He couldn’t fathom a second before the pain-
“My creature,” The only man remaining greeted him, clammy warm hands grasping his face, “Can you answer me?”
He opened his mouth, taking a breath to talk, something felt natural about it, as if he’d done it before. The sound that came out was rough and oddly high pitched, painful too - running down his throat and lungs.
“I wouldn’t worry, the vocals came from a singer, gave quite the screech in the end,” The man told him, “There’s likely some straining that’ll wear off. The restraints are coming away, do not attack, that is an order.”
He didn’t know what that meant, was he perhaps violent? He didn’t remember being violent. The leather on his forehead and chest was undone, giving him some movement, weak as it was. He could barely lift his head, and when his arms were freed lifting them was difficult - laying limp and slouched now. He could wiggle his fingers, move his face a little, but there wasn’t much else.
He still didn’t know what to think about this. Everything was a blur, he didn’t know anything, and nothing he thought he might know - the memories and the vague instincts - seemed provable, like a fever dream where even that which lies beneath the haze is disorientated and wrong.
By now his eyes were seeing a bit more, even if his head was more confused than ever. The room was white - or it had started out white (something told him the red stains weren’t decorative). There were gas lights around, hissing quietly under the tone of the large metal box by the bed. A theatre, he thought abstractly, a medical theatre; complete with the tray of sharp objects and tubes and wires, many of which were still connected to him.
“Spinal weakness,” The man seemed to note, reaching to fold the table slightly, forcing him into an upright position, “With some usage it should go too. Hearing seems good, but we’ll test everything.”
He made a noise again, jaw moving in a hopeless attempt to form a word. His head was drooped onto his shoulder, drool dripping onto his bare chest in his effort to speak. His eyes moved to look at the man, dressed as a doctor - white coat, it always seems like enough to say about a doctor. The coat was blood stained down the front, burnt on the sleeve, glasses snuggly in the breast pocket and watch chained through the buttons to the lower pockets.
He had a pointed face that seemed blunt at the same time, like he knew he was right. Perhaps like he didn’t know he was wrong. The man unclipped something from his head; wires that connected him to the metal box, which in turn was linked to a frame that dangled out of the window getting battered by the storm outside.
It was then he realised what had just happened. What he was.
“You don’t know who I am, do you, creature? My name is Doctor Michael Urquart,” he finally introduced himself, turning the other’s head manually to see him, “I am your creator.”
***
“Darling? What happened? We heard the lightning,” Freddie held onto Brian’s elbow, guiding him carefully to the table, “I thought the monster wasn’t finished.”
“He needed more blood, the brain wouldn’t have survived much longer if it wasn’t done ton-”
“How much are you going to put into this? You’ve let Urquart take enough.” Freddie cut him off, “...I don’t think you’re getting better.”
“He’s all I have Fred,” Brian told him quietly, searching for his cup, “I was a cripple before him. I’d be dead, so would you.”
“And all those people would be alive,” the older man said pointedly, “And that monster wouldn’t have been created.”
“It’s not a monster, Fred, it feels human.”
“I wasn’t talking about it.”
That made sense. Brian didn’t comment further, Freddie would get argumentative and loud and then they’d be in no end of problems. He didn’t understand Freddie’s issue with it, John just did his job. It was morbid, granted, but he was an employee - it was his paid purpose. Not so much paid, actually, rather he had board and food and wasn’t reported for his now numerous crimes. John would likely be hung without a trail for what he’d done.
“I’ve to clear a cell of it,” Brian changed the subject, sipping carefully, “I’ll need you to get the linens and clothes for it, father says it needs to be kept warm now, just like us.”
“I’ll leave them on the bed for you,” Freddie didn’t comment on the use of ‘father’, Brian was too far gone for that argument, they all were. If he’d had any sense he would never have gotten involved. “Actually let me, you’re still too pale; he took too much out of you.”
Brian sighed gratefully, in all honesty he did want a lie down, a decent meal wouldn’t be bad either, but he had to be careful; his organs were failing - that’s what Urquart had told him. He was a frail boy, well man now, the kind doctor had taken him in as an infant and kept him alive for twenty years, raised him as a son. What more could he want?
He felt Freddie nudge him, time to go. Freddie just worked there, coming in to earn some money at first, he wasn’t allowed into the upstairs room. The doctor had said Freddie would be too delicate, although Brian felt it was more of an excuse. He stood up slowly, holding his cane in front of him, he’d likely have to go help with the tests later, but he could rest for now.
The rooms (cells according to the building's plans), were sparsely decorated to say the least. There were no radiators or fireplaces, then again the building was a complex so there could be no chimneys for the smoke or windows. It meant Fred and John’s habit of smoking pipes would be smelt across all of the sleeping quarters. Despite the lack of ventilation, the rooms were always freezing and dark - the gas lighting only ever half illuminated the immediate area. It didn’t bother Brian any more. He didn’t have that privilege.
His room had the least damp, he was family though. There was just a bed and a chair, a warmer coat hung on it. He’d worn the coat while sleeping so often it was as thread-bare as the rest of the fabric in the room. Next door he could hear Freddie making the bed, the creaks and thumps of the mattress moving on the rusty frame. Looks like he’d be next to the creature.
In an odd way, Brian hoped it was sentient. There was a grate between their rooms, he could perhaps talk, the creature was as much his as it was his father’s. He wanted to make friends with his creature. His monster.
His monster.