Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a weird, naked, wrinkly thing in the cage.

Pinky tugs on Brain’s arm, unable to look away from it. It’s awfully still but wiggly enough he knows it’s alive. Like a worm. He can smell it’s alive too. It smells fresh. And familiar in a way he can’t quite explain. Sort of like distant memories of pet shops…

He needs Brain to tell him what’s going on. There’s something else alive in their cage and all the lights are almost off it’s so dark, even though he knows it’s daytime because the scientists are here. He needs Brain to tell him what’s going on because he’s too dumb to understand. Brain always made the big smarty-pants things easy for him to understand.

But Brain is too preoccupied staring through the bars of the cage at the scientists milling about. There are always at least two watching them. Someone else has set up a camera pointed at their cage. Every time they speak their big sciencey nonsense words, Brain clutches the bars of the cage tighter until he looks like he might bend it with his teeny tiny paws. He’s grinding his teeth again too. He knows thats not good for him.

“Brain.” Pinky repeats again, more insistently.

“Quiet, Pinky, I’m trying to listen.”

“Brain, you shouldn’t grind your teeth like that.” He scolds, reaching an arm around him to poke at the corner of his mouth, spreading his lips apart with a tut. “Remember what the dentist said! You’re gonna damage your little fangies!”

Brain slaps his hand away rather quickly with an embarrassed growl. “We don’t have a dentist, Pinky. We’re mice.”

Blinking in genuine surprise, Pinky tilts his head. “We don’t? Then what’s that nurses outfit in my dress up drawer for?”

“Don’t play dumber than you are, Pinky, you know what it’s for.” Brain rolls his eyes, cheeks turning bubblegummy pink. “Now hush.”

“Ok.” Pinky pouts. If Brain isn’t going to explain the wriggly, comforting-smelling thing it to him, he’ll just figure it out himself. “I’m gonna go look at the weird raisin the scientists left us-“

Brain straightens up so suddenly his weird zig-zag tail almost unzags for a second. “Pinky, no-!” Before he can take more than a step, Brain and his speedy little tiny-man feet zoom in front of him, holding his hands against his chest to stop him.

“Hello again, Brain.” Pinky smiles. Brain is all close. It made him feel silly and giggly. He doesn’t acknowledge the greeting.

Yanking him down to his level (silly shorty mouse haha ) by the ear, Brain hisses into the appendage. “You must not show interest in…it! That’s what they’re looking for!”

“What’s what they’re looking for?” And who’s ‘they’? “The scientists?” Were they playing eye spy? Oh he love s that game! He remembers he and Brain had so much fun playing it when they went on that road trip in his fancy car that wouldn’t let them out. Oh, they passed a whole 5 hours like that!

“A reaction.” Brain hisses. “They’re-“ His pretty pink eyes look away and he almost looks embarrassed again for a moment. “They’re trying to see if two male mice will react…parentally towards a newborn.”

“New born?…” Pinky gasps, his paws slapping his cheeks. “ Egad , Brain! That’s a baby?!” He points excitedly towards the little squiggly wiggly thing. They’re a little less weird and ugly now he knows what they are. Now they’re just mostly weird and ugly. “But wait…no, no. Poit. They don’t look like Romy did.” He frowns.

“That’s because Roman Numeral I was programmed to be b- created at around 14 days of age. Specifically to avoid the…challenges presented with raising a mouse pup before that.”

Pinky’s jaw drops. “Cloned from two dads and part dog?! Egad Brain! Oh…what a story our boy will have to tell!” He gazed upwards, wistfully, thinking about all the fun icebreakers Romy will have at parties. He just knows he’s going to love that shaved ice maker they got him for his birthday! Brain said it was practical. And he’ll have so many stories to tell while using it too!

Brain is rubbing at the space between his eyes again. “Nevermind… My point being: this mouse-“ He points at the wrinkly, not-Romy baby with a wide, fake grin, like one would use when talking to little children. “Young. Romy?” Brain pulls out his oversized wallet and points to a picture of their son at his ventriloquism finale. “Old. Understand?”

“Ooooooh.” Pinky punches his upwards facing palm, before giving Brain a condescending look. “Well why di’n’t you say so? Narf! ”

His buddy looks awfully tired for someone who hadn’t done anything today.

“Hey, is that why this baby’s all bald and ugly?” He asks, making sure to whisper (don’t want to hurt the baby’s feeling’s after all! It’s not good for childrens self-es-teem when adults say mean things about them.)

“Yes.” Brain replies, in his usual volume. “It will grow it’s fur around two weeks of age. Around that time it will also open it’s eyes and begin the process of adjusting to sight- that’s what I presume the light’s are off for.”

Pinky frowns. “The baby can’t see? Not even any of the pretty colours of all the science drinks?” He asks, sadly. Poor baby…

“Those are deadly chemicals Pinky, so when you call them ‘drinks’ I hope you are doing so hypothetically.” He says warningly, to which Pinky kicks at the floor and looks away with an awkward whistle. He may not understand any of Brain’s big words, but he knows what it means when he says them like that very well . Not willing to justify his cagemate with a response- they will have that talk later- Brain instead tries his best to keep on topic.

“It cannot hear either. That takes a couple of days. It appears this one is very young. Likely only a day old…” Brain trails off as he speaks, voice growing distant and quieter as he rubs at his chin in thought.

“A day?!” Oh that’s not long at all! It’s so short it’s hard to even imagine it being a timeframe for age . That’d be like saying you were 14 seconds old! Though he supposes he was present when Romy was 14 seconds old…And 15 seconds. And 16 and 17 and 92 and 24 and…

“Brain, where’s their mummy and daddy?” He frets, the building upset feeling in his tummy snapping him out of his repetitive thoughts. He bends down slightly, tugging Brain’s arm up and down frantically to get his attention. “They must be so lonely!” His eyes mist over at the thought, and he automatically takes a step towards them. And then another. Wrinkly and ugly or not, a baby shouldn’t be without their parents. The poor thing needs a hug and their help to find them!

“No!” Again, Brain stops him for some reason, this time yanking on his tail so he falls to the ground. It hurts, but not in the nice way. It’s hard for it to feel nice when he’s this upset.

“I told you! That kind of reaction is what they want from us!”

“But why’s that bad, Brain? We always do what the scientists want. They tell me to say narf and I do and they give me cheese then they put us in the maze and we finish it and we get cheese.” Would the baby get cheese too, he wonders? Maybe a babybel. Ha!

Brain ignores his sudden, unexplained laughter and shakes him by the shoulders. “Yes. But this is a long term experiment. If we react to that baby in any way, they will want to study our reactions more and leave it here. Possibly indefinitely! How exactly do you expect us to take over the world with a baby to watch over, Pinky?” He snaps.

Hmm, oh well that would be quite difficult, wouldnt it? Pinky ponders for a moment. He could get one of those little baby backpacks! That way they could all go and conquer the world together like a little family trip. Oh but- wait, no, no. Usually they got exploded or stepped on or exploded at the end of trying to take over the world. Baby’s aren’t meant to be in explosions, he’s pretty sure. Those movies are always pg-13 for granite concrete and violence after all.

“I guess so…” He admits sadly, eyes drifting over to the little wiggly baby in the soft pile of hay at the corner of their maze. Their guest bedroom! Brain let him make the nest and design the place all nice and cosy! Those interior decorating magazines had been such a help; made the nest all smooth and silky.

“Oh but- Brain! Look at them! They’re all sad and alone without their mummy…” The more he looks at the little wrinkly mouse baby, the more squeezey and sad his heart feels. He whimpers and gives Brain his best puppy dog eyes but even that doesn’t work (though he did have to turn away).

“Cease. You know we can’t, Pinky. All we have to do is not react to it’s presence and they will soon deem their experiment a failure and remove it. The whole process shouldn’t take more than a day, I’d predict.”

“Where will they take the baby, Brain?” Pinky asks quietly. He notices the confidence drain out of his friend quick as a. A very quick thing, and his ears flatten.

“Why…back to it’s mother to be weaned, of course.” He fumbles for a second before replying with a false, assured grin. “They…they wouldn’t let anything bad happen to such a…valuable asset.” His voice trails off towards the end, eyes drifting over to the baby despite what he’d said earlier. Pinky doesn’t like how unsure he sounds. “Newborns in the lab mean new infant test subjects! Yes…so. We have. Nothing to worry about. This one is valuable to them yet.”

Pinky isn’t convinced. He thinks Brain knows he isn’t. Neither of them say it.

-

They start to cry after a while. Sad, hopeless, chocked little whimpering sounds as they sniffle around for their mother and littermates. Pinky hears the shuffling sounds of hay and straw and magazine moving- but it’s almost inaudible. The baby is still so small they can’t make much noise. His heart is really hurting now- all hot and achey and making his throat feel burny.

Brain won’t even look at them and he tells Pinky not to either. Hes trying to look engaged in a food pellet, facing the other direction, but Pinky can see his wide, uncomfortable eyes and he’s been gnawing ineffectively at the same pellet for 5 minutes now. He thinks his heart is hurting too, just in his own Brain-y way.

“Maybe the baby’s hungry.” Pinky whispers, making sure to glance over at them quickly so as not to upset Brain. The scientists had been watching them closely since the crying started and Brain said it was now of ‘upmost importance’, that they ‘feign indifference’, whatever that meant.

Brain stiffens, his teeth clacking against the food pellet in surprise with the worst sound. Slowly, he recovers and his teeth munch down solidly into it- almost angrily. He chews slowly like he doesn’t really want it. “We couldn’t feed her if we wanted , Pinky.” He grumbly-grumbles. “We’re not-“ Frustrated, his hands make a vague flailing motion that says nothing. “…equipped.”

“There’s some milk in the fridge!” Pinky perks up. “I can go get the baby a bottle!”

There’s that sigh Brain does when Pinky says something so stupid it makes him feel all bad for him. “She doesn’t need that kind of milk, Pinky…”

It’s true that he’s too stupid to understand, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be upset at the news. Pinky slumps to a sit with a sad “Poit…” This is horrible! The baby needs food and they can’t feed her! Oh this is way worse than all the other experiments, even the ones with sharp jabby things and cream that made his skin burn.

Trying to distract himself so he doesn’t get more sad because that makes Brain sad- he turns to his friend. “Narf…how did you know she was a she?”

Brain seems to relax slightly at a semblance of a real conversation, grounded and dragged away from the constant torture of that whining, desperate little voice. “I heard the scientists mention it.” He responds, looking tired. “Infant mouse 1-C, female.” He repeats on autopilot.

“Aww. She’ll need a name.” Pinky decides, trying to think of something nicer. “You know, I never got to use any of my good girl names when we had Romy.” Brain rolls his eyes.

“Judging by your suggestions for names of the masculine variety, I doubt the world would benefit from hearing them.”

“Aw, thanks Brain.” He says, smiling genuinely. “So, there’s Raisinbran and Yellow and Troze - with an ‘e’, so the other parents at the pta know we’re fancy~ and-“

“Stop.” He buries his face in his hands. “Just…stop.”

“Aw, Brain, do you have suggestions? I mean, you did already name Romy-“ Pinky crosses his arms, looking annoyed for a moment, before it melts into his usual cheer. “Oh but you did such a good job! I’d love to hear your suggestions! How about, lets see…Roman Numeral II??”

“An well-informed prediction to be sure, Pinky,” Brain starts, dryly. “However, we won’t be naming the…specimen. She- it - isn’t our child so naming it is unnecessary and will only inspire needless sentiment within you that will no doubt distract you from tonights plan, ruining it spectacularly.”

A horrified gasp. “ Egad , Brain! You’re right!”

“But of course you won’t list- wait, really?”

“Yes!” Eyes sparkling, Pinky turns to him, distraught. “Shes not our baby! Shes some other mouses! Oh, Brain ! Her parents must be so worried what with her over here! Tell the scientists to put her back, Brain!” Again, he tugs on his arm like that will get anything done faster. Brain yanks it out of his clutches.

“The only way to get IS-3C back to her family is to keep quiet , Pinky and ignore her.” He says, voice stern. “If we try and comfort her the scientists will keep her here until we react again. A calm, nonplussed reaction is exactly what they don’t want- so it is what we must do. We need to be boring, more so than ever before.”

“Well that should be easy for you, Brain. Haha- narf!” He couldn’t help it.

Brain gives him a flat, annoyed look as he laughs to himself. “And I’m afraid you, my dimwitted companion, will find that task almost impossible.”

-

186 minutes had passed. The baby is still hungry. Distressed in her lonely newspaper pile, but too small and weak to do much but cry out weakly, in a failing voice, for sustenance. For comfort. For the warmth of her mother and siblings. Brain’s eye twitches. He barely even notices he’s begun drumming a rhythmless tune on the cage bars. Come on, come on…can’t you see she needs assistance?!

Baby mice need their mother. They’re supposed to be nursed and kept warm and cared for and loved during these first crucial weeks. Ideally out in a field, or a forest, not a lab. Nested under roots of trees, in burrows in the ground, in old tin cans…

Keeping her here is cruelty. So what if they did show the protective instincts towards her the scientists were looking for? They don’t have the right scent. They don’t have her littermates. It wouldn’t ease her- not adequately. Worst of all, they can’t nurse her (despite Pinkys sad attempt to subtly ‘drop’ a food pellet in her direction which was very sweet, if ineffective). What was the point of an experiment that would never work in the wild? He hopes assumes, should they give in and attempt to parent her, the scientists would feed her formula to keep the experiment going. But it seems the cold hearted humans are waiting for their initiative to take the plunge. Brain’s heart pounds in his ears, and he can’t tell if it’s from fear or fury. They’re at an impasse.

Logically, he knows that the baby would be fine should he continue calling their bluff. Young mice can last 2-4 days without food (he remembered from that time an intern had forgotten to fill his automatic food dispenser before the weekend). But it isn’t good for them by any means. That kind of hunger…of being small and scared and so so helpless… he growls. It’s cruel. ACME Labs are cruel.

Pinky’s getting distressed. He can feel it coming off of him in waves, mixing with the signals from the sad whimpering squeaks of the neglected infant.

The wheel is squeaking too, loud enough to wake the dead (if 1C is lucky for anything right now it’s not being able to hear it), and his tics have steadily been coming in faster over the past few hours. He lets him release his anxious energy on the wheel, if only so it doesn’t built up and make those symptoms worse. Not only were tic attacks all around unpleasant for Pinky, but the last time one had triggered in the company of the scientists they’d been so amazed by his ~mysteriously~ increased vocalisations they took him away for observation for half the damn day. Didn’t even have the courtesy to give him tea for his sore throat afterwards! No, more human meddling right now is the last thing they need.

He’s running out of ordinary mouse-like things to do to occupy his mind. He’d already eaten as much as he could bear (he responded to one particular scientists comment about his weight with a terse growl) and had sniffed the air and wandered mindless around the cage a dozen times. Not that he enjoyed the wheel much, but at least if Pinky got off it he’d have something more to do. He could take a nap, but the noise and his own worry prevented that. Currently, he has landed on grooming himself in a most humiliating display. As much as he knows, logically, that many animals are self-grooming and perfectly clean, the human instincts instilled in him by the gene splicer still make him want to gag at the feeling of saliva soaked paws running through his nicely clean fur. Oh yes, he’s due a good bath tonight. With alka seltzer and the apple shampoo. Yes.

“Poit. You…hah…dirty, bra-hah-ain?” Pinky barely gets out between pants, still running as fast as ever. He’s sweating an awful lot and Brain can’t help but note to himself that he’ll probably need a bath tonight too. Pinky would want to get the candles out though if they were sharing, which always takes forever at their size. He’ll have to factor time for that into their schedule.

“For the sake of not raising suspicion, yes.”

“Aw…it’s ok, Brain…you can just say your a….hoo! A stinky smelly boy!” He teases. Brain glowers and rolls his eyes at the childish insult. One more remark like that and there would be no candles tonight.

“Pinky get off that wheel before you keel over.” He demands, defusing to acknowledge the other’s comment.

“Can’t…think I’m finally…hah…getting somewhere…! D’y’see those shiny light spots, Brain? Think…hah…ran to a rave….”

Eyes widening in alarm, but still very much unamused, Brain reaches out and gives Pinky’s ear a swift yank, taking him clean off the wheel- which is still spinning rapidly enough to fall off it’s hinges. He knows better than to let Pinky try and stop by himself. He always skidded from top speed to still far too quick and ended up flung around the wheel by the continued momentum. At least this way he only hits his head once. He only has so many braincells after all, and Brain is all for protecting endangered organisms.

“Ow…thanks Brain.” Pinky mumbles, head spinning. Brain just rolls his eyes and drags Pinky by the tail to their water bottle. It’s on the same side of the cage as the baby but he tries his best not to think about it. Don’t look at her, don’t look at her…

With any luck, the humans will think this  rough behaviour is play fighting. Probably couldn’t get away with real fighting, seeing as they’ve clearly been noted to be bonded enough for a surrogate parent experiment to be performed with them- a thought which makes him red with embarrassment- so it will have to do. Brain drops Pinky down in front of the water bottle and puts his hands on his hips to spin him around so he faces it.

“Weeeee!!!”

“Drink.” He says firmly, rolling his eyes. “If you pass out I shall have to hurt you.”

“Right-o, Brain! Narf.” He watches in mild disgust as Pinky slurps down half the bottle with all the grace of an ordinary mouse. He’d call his performance astounding if he didn’t know any better. It’s harder to see in the dark after the gene splicer, but he can still make out enough to see the scientists making notes on their filter-covered laptop screens across the room as they eye the camera. Likely from the proximity to the baby. Brain frowns and feels sweat begin to bead on the back of his neck again. He’s sure they aren’t the only ones to notice.

Pinky emerges from the end of the water bottle with a sharp gasp, as if he forgot mammals need air to live. He mumbles out vague, monotone sympathies as he pats his choking cagemate on the back. Since he’s already ruined one of their coats, he does his best to disguise the gesture by adding a few licks- particularly at the parts of his fur damp with spilt water. Pinky giggles and tells him it giggles with that fond voice. He stops sharply, suddenly feeling too vulnerable partaking in allo-grooming in the presence of witnesses.

Pinky’s previously happily twitching ears flatten against his back when he hears the squeaks again, much closer this time. Brain tenses up.

“Do you think she wants some water too?” He whispers, voice quiet and in this horrible limbo where Brain just knows he’s upset but he won’t even show it. At least Pinky was so open with his feelings usually that, when he wore his heart on his sleeve, it was easy to tell himself it was all melodrama. Then he didn’t have to feel bad.

“She just wants milk at this age.” He breaks to him, as emotionless as possible. Despite himself, he’s frozen, staring at the infant along with Pinky. If he were looking, he’d see the bored scientists across the room finally perk up. He doesn’t.

“Zort… It’s not fair, Brain.” Pinky whimpers, voice still in that limbo but cracking slightly, the facade breaking down. “Why won’t they feed her when they feed us?”

“She will live.” He reaffirms to them both.

“But she’ll be hungry.”

To his horror, he hears a sniffle coming from his side. No. No no no! Not the tears! He can’t be weak in his resolve here!

“She’s so little and tiny.” Pinky wavers, sniffling. “Why won’t they feed her. We did what you said.”

“It’s not been long enough.”

“Narf. It’s nearly lunchtime.”

“How do you know that?”

“My belly knows.” Pinky pats his fuzzy stomach, sadly. “I always get hungry just before the scientists leave for lunch.”

Brain hates that he’s right. If he squints, he can make out neon green light on their digital alarm cloth, hidden under stray wood chips and straw. It’s 10 minutes till lunch break. They won’t be back for an hour. That’s another hour the baby will have to wait and Pinky will be sad…

He’s growing restless. In ordinary circumstances, he’d just sneak out for a pipet of formula during that hour, however the camera trained on them eliminates that as an option. They could only do one of two things. Play the game and get the baby fed, at the cost of more experiments…or ignore her and place their trust in the scientists.

He recalls Pinky telling him stories of being left in the mazes overnight when he couldn’t make his way out- as if he’d somehow magically solve them better in pitch darkness. He recalls stories of sparkly power that stung eyes and rosey smelling spray that made things ‘all fun-fun-wibbly-wobbly’ and ‘thinking hard’. He recalls a metal plate that shocked him relentlessly until he feared reaching for what he wanted, what he needed-

Brain inhales sharply, his memories taking an unwelcome turn as he begins to feel bile rise in his throat. He has control now. He won’t respond to their little experiments like they want.

Yet a voice in the back of his head won’t shut up. Human babies stop crying when nobody comes. Why would mice be different? His heart thuds in his ears.

Learned helplessness.

The bile is back. It’s not fair. His own mental torment or anothers- that’s the ultimatum they’ve given him. He wants to shut down this logic- say it’s only been three hours- but then how long was he in that cage with the stunning plate? Less than 15 minutes, he imagines. And yet look at him. A grown mouse with a cerebral cortex developed to three times the capacity of his tormentors- and shaking where he stood with his fried, numb tail clutched tightly in his paws.

“Brain?” The sound is fuzzy and far away. He doesn’t trust himself to move, so he just responds, voice and eyes empty.

“Help her, Pinky.”

A gasp. “I can?” It’s full of relief and gratefulness and disbelief he doesn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to process right now. “Yes. Just go.” He clutches his tail tighter at Pinky’s impossibly loud inhale- was everything always so loud? The thudding of his heart in his ears is deafening. His head is pounding.

“Movement from subject B.” He hears an uninterested voice mutter across the room.

“Probably just smelling it to see what it is.” Another worker comments. “Look, it’s almost acting confused.”

“Ah, that one’s always like that.”

Pinky sniffles around the baby, trying to hear her little breaths and let her know he’s there. Brain said she couldn’t hear or see and that must be awfully scary. She reacts to the feeling of air across her wet little nose and whimpers a little louder, filled with newfound hope. Her little eyes are screwed shut so tight so she looks like a wrinkly old man but she finds where he is anyway and leans as best she can in his direction. His heart feels all gooshy, but different from the kind of gooshy Brain makes him feel. This is like when Romy was first cloned or when he said his first sentence or made that lovely drawing of their family or-

She’s so impossibly small. He didn’t think mice could even be that small. Not that she looks much like a mouse yet, but he trusts Brain. He’s the smartest smarty-pants he knows, after all. Pinky reaches a paw out to the little baby and gasps as he feels how cold she is. Not dangerously- his instincts aren’t going as crazy as they do when Brain gives him a fright during their plans- but it’s enough to make his fur stand on end.

“Strong reaction.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s parental. It’s shown no interest so far.”

“He couldnt have done this before we had lunch in 4 minutes?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. Pinky crawls into the guest bed and curls tightly around her, trying to warm her little body up. Shes all bald, how’s she supposed to keep warm??? He’d have to knit her a jumper in the meantime. The baby squeaks and in her tiny, jerky little newborn movements, she leans her head against his belly and curls up tight.

The scientists are standing now, looking at the screen in silent excitement.

Pinky gives her bald little head an absentminded lick. She squeaks quietly and nuzzles into his belly.

“Aww…” He coos, voice quieter than he’s ever remembered it being. “Do you want to cuddle? …Oh. Oh no, you don’t want to cuddle.”

Brain seems to be snapped out of his glazed-eyed little ponderings by that, which is good because he’s never happy after those. “Poit. Brain, she wants her mummy, I think.”

“Yes.” His voice is empty and he sounds like he needs a drink. Despite the water bottle being right next to him, he doesn’t drink from it. Instead he’s too busy glancing anxiously over at the humans and tapping his foot.

“I have some food pellets left…” Pinky offers, though he very much feels like that won’t work. But it’s the only idea he can come up with in his little head. Surprisingly, Brain nods as if he’s said something smart, seemingly coming out of his daze.

“Yes…yes that’s it…! We’re- we’re male mice… Our duty is to forage…” He mutters vacantly as he goes and grabs a food pellet. “They’re looking for parental behaviour not necessarily motherly. Right.” Pinky has no idea what he’s talking about but Brain carrying over the food pellet in his maw and dropping it in the spare bed seems to get a reaction out of the humans. Brain nudges it towards the baby with his nose, all cute-like, like a mouse or something, and Pinky’s ears twitch at the noises over by the computers.

“Finally.” A relieved laugh.

“It took them a strange amount of time…”Another muses.

“Struggles with sense of smell?” Another suggests. “Or perhaps eyesight too? These are Those mice after all…theres no telling what side effects that procedure had…”

Brain lets out a sigh of relief and Pinky is relieved himself that he sounds all here again. Sometimes Brain drifts off with the fairies and it’s not very fun being down on earth all by himself. But he’s back now.

“Are they going to feed her now?” He asks, hopeful.

“Yes Pinky.” Brain sighs, with a tiny, relieved smile. “They’ll feed her now.”

Chapter Text

Pinky watched with relief as the scientists scooped the baby out of the cage. For some reason, he felt his fur prick up and a growl in the back of his throat- but he didn’t know why when this was what they wanted. Brain’s hand on his flank calmed him down while they removed her from his protective cuddle.

He watched her start sniffling again at the lack of contact and felt his heart get all achey again. On instinct he reached out and took Brain’s hand. He pulled away.

The bottle they used for her didnt look like a bottle. It looked like one of those squirty things they used to give them medicine but less pointy. Brain called it a pipette. He thought that sounded like a nice name for a baby girl.

A couple drops of milk (Brain assured him it was the right milk and not the stuff from the fridge) later, and they put pipette back in their cage before leaving for lunch. Pinky scurries back for her side and she nuzzles into him gratefully as he picks her up and holds her over his shoulder.

“Pinky, what are you doing.” Brain says more than asks, sounding annoyed.

“Pipette needs to be burped, Brain! Didn’t you read the baby book i bought when Romy was born?!”

“Ok first of all: we’re not naming her that. We’re not naming her at all - and if we were it would certainly not be after a laboratory tool of all things. Second: baby mice don’t need to be burped. In fact, mice can’t burp- we don’t have the physical capacity.”

“Oh is that the excuse you’re going with for last weeks surprise-soup night? You ‘physically can’t’?” Pinky cocked his hip sassily, shooting him an unimpressed look.

Annoyed, but not able or willing to come up with a reply, Brain simply gestures back at the child. “Put her down, Pinky. She will be tired after her full meal. What she needs is to go to the bathroom and then take a nap...” Eyes lighting up, his companion is quickly distracted by his paternal duties.

“Right-o!”

Brain watches, unimpressed, as Pinky trots over to their newspaper to sit her down, before crossing his arms behind his back and rocking on his heals patiently. He face-palms.

“Pinky, that’s not going to work.”

His dimwitted companion tilts his head, confused. “Because why?”

For all Pinky is about mothering the infant, he’s awfully quick to pass her to Brain when he explains how she needs help expelling waste.

“Why is this my job?” He demands- nonetheless holding the baby gently in his paws.

“Poit! Well , I did everything else.” Pinky retorts.

“I brought her a food pellet.” Is his weak reply. After only a flat look, Brain sighs. “Alright, fine. Do we still have those bits of cotton swab in the nest? I need you to dampen some for me with the water bottle.” He instructs as he lays the infant back down on their newspaper. She’s a little fussy, probably due to being sleepy and cranky after a big meal.

“Gee Brain, won’t we look kind of smart on the camera for this?” Comes a rare, observant query from across the cage.

“You will never look smart Pinky.” He replies. “And i don’t see you volunteering to do this au naturel. We’re in a blind spot anyhow.” He takes the damped cotton with a quiet “Thank you”.

Pinky watches in morbid fascination as Brain stimulates her to go. It’s a lot gentler than he’d expected from him. Quick and clinical- but all light touches and quiet, almost inaudible, soothing when she wriggled at the relatively new feeling. Pinky thinks he even heard a squeak in there- though Brain’s voice was so deep and out of practice with their first language it sounded more like a strange guttural noise. Little Pippa got a little grumpy- probably because she was embarrassed like Pinky knew he would be- but Brain giving her a gentle clean and lifting her into his arms quieted her fussing quick.

“There.” Brain turns around, and glares when he sees the way Pinky is staring at him. “What’s that look for?” He asks, accusatory. Pinky just lets out a coy giggle. He knows a sappy gooey sap Brain when he sees one!

He gets a huff and a baby in his arms in retaliation and is more than happy to take her over to the nest for some sleep. He wanted to show her their soft sponge mattress, but Brain told him she needed to be in the guest bedroom. Something about familiarity and more grip to keep her from falling off the bed and hurting herself. He wasn’t really listening to the why, but he doesn’t want Pippa to hurt herself so he does as Brain says.

Curling back down in the cosy nest he’d made, he lays her close by his side against his belly. “There you go little Pippa.” He pats her head with a carefulness few but Brain would expect from him. “Nighty night.” She lets out a sleepy snuffling sound before a big silent, gummy yawn and curls into his belly.

“I suppose that name is…more acceptable.” Comes his companions voice after a short silence. He lights up like a christmas tree.

“Does this mean we can keep her, Brain?”

“Pinky…” He sighs. “Try not to get too attached. This is merely an experiment to see how we react to the presence of an infant. They will take her away when she is fully grown- likely before that.”

Pinky looks a little disappointed as he glances down at the baby mouse snoozing against him. “To her mummy?” He asks quietly, something hopeful in his voice.

The words catch in Brain’s throat. Pinky doesn’t need to know that that won’t be happening. Much less what would happen if the mouse’s mother smells their scent on her. “…Yes, Pinky.” He says instead, to keep that smile intact. “Back to her mommy.”

“Well, that’s nice then.” Pinky’s eyes half close, content with the news. He looks down at the baby fondly and whispers. “She’s very cute Brain. Even if she’s all pink and wrinkly like a little tiny pig. Look how small she is.” He pats her little head.

“Yes well, as I said, don’t get too attached. This isn’t like Romy, Pinky. You will only hurt yourself in the long run developing affections for it.” He turns away from the sight of the two of them, deliberately.

“How isn’t it like Romy?” Pinky sounds sad and confused.

“She’s not ours , Pinky.” He clarifies, frustrated. “And she won’t be coming back when she’s gone. There’ll be no letters or thanksgiving dinners together. Its not like Romy living with Bunny- she will leave forever.”

A loud, sad gasp. Pippa paws vaguely at his fur in her sleep in response to the distress. “Oh…poit. Alright. I think I get it Brain…” Sadly, he lowers his head down to her level. Brain can’t help the wave of guilt.

“Dont give me that look Pinky…I tried to warn you. If- if those scientists fed their lab animals I wouldn’t have given in at all!”

“But you did.”

“Yes, well.” Pink eyes look away, feeling vulnerable. “She is young. And cold and hungry. It…wouldn’t be a very good rebellion against ACME’s practises if I let another suffer in the process.” Yes that was far less scary. Logical, clinical. Frequent analysis of his motivations for his beliefs make him better equipped for debate, which would be an important skill next election cycle. He has a plan for that one.

“Right.” Pinky’s voice is soft and knowing in that terrifying way. He doesn’t turn to face him.

-

Brain is not going soft on some baby that was placed in here purely to play with his emotions. It was basic decency. Sympathy at a push. This child had simply been…left in the care of ACME labs…with no one to rely on. Like him. If he can’t give his past self the brief reprieve of softness he’d so craved then at least he can give another…

Oh goodness what is he talking about? These are the deranged thoughts of a parent living vicariously through their child! He is no such thing. He has no need to be! He’s still young. ..Ish. There’s plenty of time to achieve his goals of world domination! Those nonsensical childhood fears - he’s past all that. Definitely. He doesn’t need anything. Certainly nothing to do with this child. Yes. That’s it.

The fear is rising again.

They’ve broken him. He took the bait. He tried to touch the cheese. He did what they wanted and now he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the sting- the burning-

The very base of his tail- the only part he can still feel- twitches slightly and he has to hold back a whimper. Pathetic.

He needs to cool his head. Yes. It’s no good having his thoughts and- dare he admit it?- feelings running rampant. He has a plan to finish polishing for tonight. (He purposefully ignores that with the infant he may not get to perform it). Brain takes a long, slow sip of water from the sipper tube. Deep, slow breaths though his nose while he lets the…room temperature (he rolls his eyes in annoyance) water run down his throat. It does make him feel a little better.

Pinky tries to talk to him as he walks past, but he shuts up his whispers with a routine “Quiet, Pinky”. He needs to think. Paws rubbing at his forehead, he runs over the potential outcomes to his rash decision.

“Brain?” Pinky asks again. He cringes hard, hands digging into his fur and scalp, trying to block out his voice. He needs to think .

“Brain don’t you think she needs toys?” Pinky whispers as best he can. Brain can hear him smother a particularly loud tic with his hand so as not to wake the baby. If he were in sounder mind he may have softened at the gesture.

“She appears hardly a day old, Pinky. She cannot perceive any ‘toys’ you give her, much less play with them.” He answers begrudgingly through gritted teeth, knowing Pinky likely wont be quiet otherwise.

“I know that, Brain.“ Comes a rare retort. Pinky sounds annoyed. “But she can feel. She needs something soft to cuddle with that isn’t just me. What about when i need to go to the bathroom?”

“I will-“ He forces himself to swallow back the bile. It’s purely practical. He’s not getting attached to this thing- he’s not - he’s in control here, not them. “I will have to take over briefly during those times.”

“ Naaaaaarf… oh, that’s sweet of you, Brain!” Pinky looks genuinely surprised, his eyes proud and soft and happy. “…But I still think she needs some fluffy friends to cuddle with. I mean, I had sis when I was little, but shes all alone.”

“And? So was I.” Brain protests weakly. A part of him wants to mention that a spool of thread doesn’t seem like a good cuddler, but bringing up a debate about his cagemates ‘sister’ will surely wake Pi- the infant. What would that even look like as a baby, anyway? What was she, a singular strand of embroidery thread? He suppresses a chuckle and brings out a notebook to write that one down for later, feeling a little better.

“Can you maybe get her some tonight Brain? Or make her one out of all that fluffy stuff under the counter?”

“That ‘fluffy stuff’ is dust, so no. If she really needs a ‘toy’ then here.” He digs in a straw pile for a few seconds before finding what he’s looking for and throwing a green paperclip across to Pinky to shut him up. He gasps, affronted.

“Brain!” He scolds, still whispering unnecessarily. “Don’t be so cruel! This isn’t a toy!”

“What? Well, I mean-“ He flounders, not expecting to have to explain himself when Pinky was usually so quick to accept whatever he said. “It’s…colourful. Children love that.” He says weakly. “Why, when he was her age, that was Roman Numeral I’s favourite toy!” It’s true, yet somehow his irate voice is comically unconvincing. He balls his fists in frustration, giving up on the act of actually caring. “Oh, whatever! If you think she needs a toy so badly make her one yourself!”

Pinky gasps. “Brilliant, Brain! Narf! ” Oh, curse his casemate’s literal mind… “I’ll get right on it tonight! Ooooo this is so exciting!!! Do you think she’d like a porcupine or a babirusa? Oh wait- no, no…where am i going to get pink chiffon at this hour? I suppose I shall just have to look through my dress-up drawer…I’ll have to take down those listings on vinted, though nobody seemed interested anyway… Narf!” He sounds a little embittered towards the end, directing his exclamation at an imaginary potential customer across the cage. Brain rolls his eyes, too distracted trying to subtly pull his blueprints and crayons into the surveillance camera’s blind spot.

“Barbie n’ ken musht no’be in’a market for shecon hand clofesh.” He comments dryly, voice slightly distorted as his front teeth hold tight to the paper.

“Exactly!” Pinky scoffs, indignant. “Typical bourgeoisie.” How Pinky is able to know and correctly pronounce that of all words when he got stuck on ‘ketchup’ on the crossword yesterday is beyond Brain.

A tiny, cute little squeak makes Brain’s ears twitch and his heart squeeze dangerously. He has to shake his head and grit his teeth to block out the sounds of Pinky’s cooing.

“Aww. Little baby Pippa. Baby, baby, baaaaby~” He sings softly, though no less excited than Brain would expect from his friend. He hears a smooching noise, followed soon by nearly a dozen more. Cringing in aggravation, Brain whirls on him, baring his teeth.

“Pinky! For goodness sake what did i say about getting attached?! Cuddling is one thing, as she needs the warmth, but have some restraint!”

The taller mouse pauses, pursed lips still brushing the child’s forehead. She settles at the sudden lack of excitement, though notably quite content looking. Not that one can tell of course. She is an infant, she does not outwardly emote in a readable manner. The idea that she can is absurd. Brain shakes his head to rid it of his confusingly distractible thoughts. He refuses to play this game of sentimentality.

“…Well.” Pinky says after a long, awkward pause, moving to prop his chin up against his fist. “Aren’t you a grumpy frowny-face today.” His pout falls into a sad, puppy-dog-eyes expression and Brain has to look away because the fiend know s that’s his weakness. “I was only showing her a bit of love, Brain. Don’t you think she deserves it?”

Something akin to anger bubbles in his gut.

Dammit, he is not the bad guy here! He didn’t kidnap her from her family! He didn’t lock them all away! “Pinky, I-“

Deep breaths. Composure. Composure.

“…I am only trying to spare your feelings, my friend. It isn’t about what…Pippa may or may not deserve. She is too young to remember these crucial days and the events therein. This is about you , Pinky, I-“ A sigh. “I don’t want you getting too excited and attached to her. It will only cause you pain later. Pippa will be fine without toys and kisses, I assure you. Please just…try to keep your distance- emotionally, that is- while i figure out our next course of action.”

Pinky’s ears fall. “Poit…I-I know Brain…but it’s hard…” His paw ghosts above her sleeping head. “I think I already love her. Does that mean I failed?”

“Pinky, you can’t possibly love a mouse you just met.” Brain rolls his eyes, any vulnerability he’d displayed in his voice now gone. “You have simply been suckered in by the adorableness of her small stature and nonsensical vocalisations. It is in your instincts to care for our species young. That does not mean you love her. I assure you, if you did, you would know so when it hurt.”

He grimaces. That seemed to be the only way ACME’s torture had allowed love to blossom in his heart. As a fleeting, hidden tenderness, locked far away in the back of his mind and only brought to the forefront when the object of said love is ripped away. Just to cause him pain. Pinky doesn’t deserve to face that reality. The tenderness in his heart seems to bloom throughout his whole body, and fills every room he steps into with warmth and light. It’s an innocent, fearless way of loving. Brain doesn’t want him to lose that ability.

“Love doesn’t hurt, Brain.” Pinky frowns, his voice quiet. How little he knew.

“Just try not to get too attached.” He turns away, trying to fight back the angry burning in his throat. This was not the time to lose control of his temper. They were being monitored after all, and he was not so careless as Snowball was so as to give them cause to remove him from his cagemate. “…The scientists will be back in an hour.” He says through gritted teeth, trying to take deep breaths. “I need that time to plan. Alone .”

He doesn’t look at Pinky to see his reaction, yet the sad “Poit…” cuts through him anyway.