Chapter Text
Dan wasn’t sure why he did it. Herbert must have gotten into his head, because all he could think about was the freshness of the body - Not why he was considering its ‘freshness’ in the first place.
Tearing away the rubble he somewhat expected Herbert to be dead. No that’s not true - He knew Herbert was dead. He’d somehow survived the first time his life had been threatened, but this time was different. By the time he got back into the basement he’d had no air, breathing dirt into his lungs for almost ten minutes, and despite Herbert’s track record for not dying when he very well should have, it wasn’t easy to survive something like that. Not to mention the impact of a tomb coming down on your head. Nevertheless, Dan dug him out with the same speed as if he was alive, falling to his knees and throwing aside rocks, tunneling through the dirt and topsoil from above until he found it - A slender, pale, cold hand.
It took several minutes switching between pushing dirt aside and pulling him out to finally get his crumpled body out. He looked like a proper zombie in a way none of the rest of them had - Something about the smell of the graveyard, the matted dirt in his hair and against his pale skin, his brown and bloodied white button down untucked and disheveled, his sleeves ripped. It was quite a sight. Dan had to take a moment, stunned, just to look at him before he moved. Every second was wasting precious time, he knew that - But even still, he wasn’t certain he would find him dead, not 100% until now. His shoulders deflated, the slightest waves of grief playing at the corners of his mind. He was so… still. He’d lost him.
Then he felt a rush run through him. Death, death, what was death?! They didn’t come this far just to be stopped by something like death! Herbert wanted to evolve, he wanted to become immortal. And so he would be. And it was Dan that would remake him. His heart was beating so fast in his throat he could hardly see, his body moving on its own towards the serum, filling up the syringe until it filled the room with green light. He set it aside and laid Herbert down flat on the table. Then he sighed. One injection, in the back of the neck. He didn’t hesitate. Only when it was all in did it occur to him how violent the reaction could be with that much reagent. Five seconds. There were straps at either side of the old autopsy table. He strapped in his icy hands. Ten seconds. Strapped in the other one. Fifteen seconds. Twenty seconds… Twenty five.
At thirty, thirty seconds, it was unmistakable. Herbert’s eyes shot open, red and bloodshot, and his hands began reflexively flexing against the straps. He took in a long slow gasp, a horrible, unhealthy sound coming from his chest as he did, air climbing past mountains of blood and dirt in his lungs. The moment he was breathing his face contorted into an expression of confused horror. It was hard to tell if he was intentionally pulling against his restraints or if it was his chest twitching in pain, his breath halting as blood began to pour from his lips. He gasped for breath for several seconds. He never cried out, never made a sound - Dan wasn’t certain he could.
For a few seconds he stood watching, hypnotized. No matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped making him go lightheaded - Dead, and then undead. Seeing his distress, however, he stepped back into the fray. As he got more agitated he stepped up to him and leaned over him, placing both his hands on his shoulders to pin him down. “Herbert!” he said firmly. This got his attention, his bloodshot eyes shooting back over to him. He saw no recognition in his face, only worsening pain as he winced and managed out a whimper through the blood. He was breathing rapidly and shallowly now, his lungs buzzing. Under normal circumstances, Dan would be running frantically to fix everything wrong with him - But he knew now that the reanimator carried his life so reliably that he probably couldn’t put him back down if he wanted to. Now all there was to do was pain and panic management. Despite his best instincts as a doctor, he ignored the bubbling dead blood, the groaning from his lungs. “Herbert. It’s me. You’re alright, it’s gonna pass.” He lifted a hand and placed it on the side of his face, feeling as some warmth came back to him. He stared at him steadily. “I brought you back,” he whispered.
Herbert, still gasping for breath, looked steadily back at him, his lips slightly parted. Then, in a rough voice he spoke. “You… brought… me… back,” he managed out.
Dan smiled. “Yes,” he said. “How do you feel?”
Herbert had calmed down now, though he was still shaking as if he was freezing. He looked around him a little less frantically, taking in his surroundings. “P-pain…” he admitted, “Chest… head…” He swallowed, his voice losing its scientific quality, “Everywhere…”
“That’ll pass,” Dan said, “Your lungs are full of graveyard dirt, I’m not surprised you’re in pain. Come on.” He unstrapped his hands one by one, and as he did so, Herbert raised them shakily, rubbing his wrists. Dan got an arm under his head and helped him sit up. The moment he was upright he started to cough up a lung, perhaps literally, Dan feared. He stayed beside him as he gagged up what looked like half the graveyard covered in blood on the tile floor. He could feel Herbert’s hand clutching desperately at the back of his shirt as he doubled over, his other arm wrapped around his abdomen and touching his chest. “It’s alright,” Dan whispered, his instinct towards bedside manner kicking in in an instant as he rubbed a slow hand along his back, “Get it out. You’ll feel better.”
When he had exhausted himself coughing he just sat shivering, his head lolling and falling into Dan’s chest. Blood hung from his lips. Jesus, this was grim, Dan thought. He wasn’t sure why he thought Herbert might have an easier transition. Maybe he thought that being familiar with the science would make the transition easier? A stupid thing to think, really. It’s not like seeing enough corpses makes you know what it’s like to be dead. Despite him being in such a dire state, Dan felt steady, more comfortable than the average person would. He’d always had a very impressive bedside manner, and specialized in pain management. Something about it made him feel useful, especially when he knew it would end and he didn’t have to break his promises. “Okay,” he whispered affectionately, “Good, very good. Just take a second, don’t try to move. Just breathe.”
Herbert did as he said. He felt better already, getting warmer, muscles relaxing against him, his breath getting slower. His chest was far from clear, but now he sounded more like he had a moderate case of pneumonia instead of sounding like… Well, like a corpse someone was pumping air into. He swallowed. “Dan…” he whispered.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he answered.
“You… brought me… back…”
It was hard to tell the expression on his voice, as exhausted as he was, as scratched up and pale with death as he was. Dan bit his cheek nervously. Could it be after all this time he didn’t want to be brought back? No, impossible. This was Herbert West. He wanted to be immortal. Even looking at his face he could see some of the light was coming back to it, those bright eyes of his starting to dart around the room as they processed his situation. “Yes…” Dan whispered, “Do you remember what happened?”
“... Yes…” he whispered, bringing a hand up to his head, “My creations… They swarmed me… And then… Then, I… I…” He shut his eyes, trying to remember. Then, his brow creased. “My notes. I have to… get this down-”
He went to stand and as he did he immediately fell, Dan, at his side, lifting him back up and setting him down on the table again. “You need to recover before you do anything.”
“Death… I’ve experienced death… I have to remember! I’ll never get these… findings again…!” he said, frantically catching his breath. “It was so dark, and then… light!” Slowly his whisper escalated, passion taking over his voice, “I remember! My notes, please!”
Dan sighed. There’d be no fighting him. He stood and picked up the nearest notebook he could find, and the pen beside it. He opened it up to the first blank page and handed him both. As he could have guessed Herbert’s hand was too tight around the pen, his muscles weak and unwieldy. He scrawled lines over the page, nothing but a scribble. With an irritated sigh, he handed it to Dan. “Transcribe,” he commanded.
“Alright.”
Then, he focused. “I had no oxygen for… estimate… eleven minutes. Breathed in… dirt at… three minutes. At…” He thought, “Estimate six minutes, no light could get in. Pain… terrible pain, in chest. Couldn’t breathe. Desperation. Dizziness. Light-headedness. Then… light. Dim… blurred lights. Three… m-maybe four. No more pain, it was… warm. Like being in bed. I-I was in bed, I’m sure of it. In my old room. I was there for… I have no idea how long I was there.” When he realized it it seemed to confuse him. Dan watched, pausing for a moment from the frantic, chaotic journal report. “Then… agony. Leather straps, and… A voice. Your voice. Waking up, here, alive. After death… I… I’ve felt… death!” He shook his head with wonder, and laughed a high-pitched, weak laugh. “I’ve died and told the tale. Every Greek philosopher… has dreamed of me!” He laughed again, but this time it sprang him back into a coughing fit, and he groaned with pain. Dan laid him carefully back down.
“Have- have you got it?” Herman sputtered.
“It’s all written down,” Dan assured him, “Now, you need to rest. Too much activity can’t be a good thing after this process. All our studies lead us to believe that hyperactivity is the first step to post-reanimation insanity.”
“Mm. That’s true.”
“The fact that you’re not trying to kill me is already a good sign, but I’d still be more comfortable if you got some sleep,” Dan insisted, “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He went to lift him up, but Herbert held up a hand and objected.
“I can try to walk, Dan,” he insisted. It didn’t sound like the best idea but, nevertheless, he wrapped an arm under his and walked beside him, instead of carrying him outright. It was a long trip up the stairs, but with enough focus, he could walk alright. It seemed to get easier the further he went, only tripping over himself the first couple of steps. “I ought to be observed,” he said, “You don’t mind, do you?”
“I don’t see what else I would do. So far you’re doing a lot better than expected.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
Once they finally got upstairs and into Herbert’s room, he fell right down into bed like - well, like a corpse. It was probably a good sign that he was exhausted. Most of the ones who went wrong were hysterical and then didn’t sleep at all. His dim consciousness he’d managed to collect fell apart nearly the moment he was on the bed, warm under the covers that Dan threw on top of it. “Conquered death…” he whispered. “I am immortal…”
“Immortal for now,” Dan said nervously. “Go to sleep.”
Even as he shut off the lights and propped himself up in a chair, getting ready for a long night, he could hear Herbert whispering to himself into the dark. “Immortal… Immortal…”