Work Text:
Imperials bury their own.
It was a common saying, and a true one. When an Imperial died, it was almost always an Imperial, any Imperial, who dealt with the body that was left behind. They would drag it as far from civilization as they could, bury it and cover it with stones to prevent anything from carrying it off, and clearly mark the grave. Not for the benefit of the mourning family, but as a warning to anyone who might otherwise try to dig it up. Grave robbers avoided Imperial tombs. Anything worth stealing would have likely been kept by the family as a memento. Necromancers tended to prefer more stable subjects. A dead Imperial was dangerous enough on its own not to warrant further protection.
Which was a large part of the reason Wollstonecroft found it so distressing that one had just gone missing from his morgue. The slab it had been lying on now stood empty, though the rest of the room was exactly as he had left it. And he had only left it for a moment. How was this happening? Why was this happening? This couldn't be happening. Losing a body was the kind of thing that immediately preceded losing your job.
He took a deep breath. If it had been anything but an Imperial, he would have assumed the body had just gotten up and walked away. That had been happening a lot, since the Afterlife Project got out of hand. He had gotten used to it. But for it to be the one breed notorious for not taking to undeath well....
Something rushed past behind him. If the smell of smoke hadn't announced her arrival, he probably would have screamed.
"Willow," He said, keeping his voice steady, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" She was already gone, back into the furnace room, but she still heard him.
"'Bout what?" She asked, ducking her head out of the door. The tips of her hair might have been smoldering, but it was hard to tell with all the smoke pouring out of her room. "Oh, that? Doc came by and took it away a while ago. I was starting to wonder why you'd been standing there for so long."
"Fleming?" If someone had ordered an autopsy, they should have told him, but perhaps it had been pressing-
"No. Tremain. Said there'd been a 'change of plans' and I 'wasn't supposed to cremate that one'. Sucks, right?" She actually used finger quotes. She actually stuck her tongue out when she said Tremain's name.
"If there's been a change of plans, I should have been informed," Wollstonecroft said. Tremain had no business sneaking bodies out of the morgue. Not anymore, at least. Unless... Wollstonecroft checked his notes. "I was told there was no family to claim the body."
Willow was starting to get bored of the conversation. Wollstonecroft could tell because she was starting to rifle through his things. No doubt looking for anything flammable. He grabbed a clipboard away from her before she could get any wise ideas about what to do with his paperwork. Exasperated, she turned back to face him. "He didn't say anything about a family. He just said to hand over the body. I figured you know, so I said yeah, sure, just take it!"
"Well, next time someone comes down here asking after a body, please ensure that I am informed. Even if it is Tremain."
"Hey, Wolly, if you have a problem with the doc, you take it up with him! I've got stuff to do." With that, she brushed past him and disappeared back into the furnace room. Wollstonecroft wished he could think of a suitably cutting remark to call after her. Several hours from now, he probably would.
Still, though, she had a point. If he wanted his concerns to be taken seriously, he was going to have to draw the line somewhere. Even if Tremain did run the hospital, Wollstonecroft ran the morgue. And a little common courtesy really wasn't too much to ask for, was it? The morgue crew were the ones who had had to deal with the worst of the follow from Tremain's last experiment. As much as Wollstonecroft hated the idea of complaining to his superiors, this had to stop somewhere. He gathered his courage and his paperwork, and he headed for the door.
Halfway up the steep ramp that lead up to the rest of the hospital, he ran into someone. Almost literally- he was too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Tremain that he almost didn't see them in time. He drew back, nearly falling backwards before catching himself. Papers scattered everywhere.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," The stranger said, bending down to help Wollstonecroft gather up his things. He was tall- tall enough that Wollstonecroft suspected he must have had to duck through the doorway to get down here. His skin and scales were a livid shade of purple, freckled with gembond. His height and his antlers told Wollstonecroft he was an Imperial himself, which wasn't a good sign, and his golden eyes were a worse one. He had never seen this man before in his life, though that didn't mean much. Being a part of the morgue crew meant he didn't often have to deal with the rest of the hospital, which suited him just fine. For all he knew, this man could have been one of his co-workers.
The stranger handed the stack of papers back to Wollstonecroft, messy and out of order. He took them and tried to offer a smile as thanks. "I- no, that's... it's fine. Thank you. I'm sorry, were you looking for someone?" He asked. That seemed like a more polite question than "what are you doing here?".
To Wollstonecroft's displeasure, the stranger smiled and said "Actually, I think I might be looking for you. My name is Royal. Tremain sent me down here- I've been working with him recently, and as of today, I suppose I will be working with you."
Wollstonecroft stared. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He hadn't been informed about this, either. "Tremain... sent you?" He managed. He managed to bite back the "why?" he really wanted to tack on.
"It's a bit short notice, I know. Tremain and I are collaborating on some research, and since it's pertinent to that research, I'm going to be spending some time in your morgue. And since I'm going to be down here anyway, I thought I would offer my assistance in any rites that need to be performed for any Imperials who happen to... find their way down here. We bury our own, as they say."
"Oh. I see," Wollstonecroft said.
"Not to worry. You won't even know I'm here," Royal said, giving him a nod as he made his way down into the morgue. Wollstonecroft doubted it.
While he still wanted to give Tremain a piece of his mind, Tremain was just going to have to wait. Having Willow downstairs without any supervision was bad enough.
Well, the doctor wouldn't be any more oblivious to his complaints tomorrow, he told himself. Besides, he was never going to work up the nerve to say anything, anyway.
Wollstonecroft made his way back downstairs as casually as he could. Royal was already reading over the clipboard Wollstonecroft had left on the table. He probably didn't understand any of it. He didn't exactly look like a doctor. Still, he was absorbed enough in what he was reading for Wollstonecroft to slip back over toward the furnace room, where Willow was now peeking out into the morgue with interest.
"Willow? Was there anything else you may have forgotten to tell me about?" He asked, quietly.
"Mmm, nope! Nothing I can think of!" She said.