Work Text:
Haze, mottled red, deep dark
Sprinkled in with blue, green
Buzzing red, red
Swirling, mixing, where, what?
Who? Herta. Obviously, anyone would know that.
Thick, cool fluid, the absence of absence, expectation
Swirling, mixing, where, what?
Inhale, strange, wrong, no
Unprepared eyes snap open, light flooding retinas yet to adjust, shake away rust, screwed shut again
The mental fuzz gives way with repeated prodding, signals racing down pathways forgotten and decayed, a superhighway reignited after the fall of a once great machine
Sluggish limbs twitch and wave in the fluid, until they’re awake enough for thrashing
The bright artificial blue-green burns through her eyelids and at this point Herta already knows where and what. Clearly it’s Ruan Mei’s laboratory, she’s suspended in one of her body preservation tanks. The fluid is safe to take in through the respiratory system, breathing normally will feel strange but will cause no harm. Despite lacking firsthand experience Herta knows this.
Herta knows and yet her body will not listen to her, still frantically searching for a way out—
She feels the cold metal of the tank’s floor underneath her feet, then the cold metal of the back as the fluid’s surface falls and fails to support her body further. Looks like Ruan Mei noticed her movement.
Herta leans against the back of the tank, waiting for the fluid to fully drain from the chamber. She turns her head to cough up some of the foreign substance while slowly testing her vision. Carefully this time, Herta pries her eyes open and glances towards the curved glass door of the body preservation tank.
Ruan Mei is standing just outside, her hands over the tank’s operation panel. She’s staring at Herta with a blank expression as usual. Seems everything is as expected then.
Once the tank is mostly empty, the glass door slides open. Herta is greeted by a rush of cold air pressing into her from all sides, curling around her as the relative warmth within the tank is quickly dispersed throughout the rest of the room.
On shaky legs she lowers herself to the base of the tank, taking Ruan Mei’s offered hand to balance herself. Looking at the other, still silent, genius, Herta nods but knows better than to try speaking, instead moving her gaze to where she knows the sinks are.
Finding her quarry, Herta starts towards them to finally rid herself of the slimy feeling in her chest. She takes about half a step before nearly falling head first onto the tiles. Ruan Mei wordlessly steadies her, and guides her to the sink. Herta sends her a glare. Why is her body so weak? It can’t have deteriorated that quickly. Not under her watch.
Herta wastes no time in bending over the basin and retching, trying to get the process over with as soon as possible. Gloved hands reach around and pull the longer locks of Herta’s hair away from her face as she coughs up the body preservation fluid. Spitting out the last traces of the liquid left in her system, Herta feels Ruan Mei move away, leaving a sharp cold where she used to be.
That cold gives her brain the last little jumpstart it needs before she remembers. That scepter, the one that got away. Irontomb. And Zandar, that maniac. He wanted Nous to be Irontomb’s “head.” Herta chose instead to take Nous’ place, the lesser of two evils. Since she was here now, that meant her and Irontomb’s fusion had been defeated, or stopped in some way.
As she had anticipated of course.
As she had hoped.
But fusing with Irontomb…how did Ruan Mei manage to salvage anything? Did she?
Just as Herta finishes rinsing out her mouth with water, Ruan Mei returns with a towel and spare lab coat. She moves as if to dry Herta off but stops, her hands shaking. Herta peers at her quizzically before taking the items from her, drying off and putting the coat on by herself. After doing so, Herta tries to speak but is only able to manage a wet rasp that has her coughing again immediately. Once the fit subsides, she simply clears her throat and tries again.
“Took you long enough.”
Herta says the words with absolutely no clue as to how long she was out for. At this, Ruan Mei lets out a small breath, staring at her still. Herta notices the dark circles under Ruan Mei’s eyes.
This is getting strange.
“Well? Are you going to ask me your post operation questions or am I supposed to take the initiative here?”
Herta is still in the process of deciphering her colleague’s behavior when said colleague suddenly wraps her arms around her.
“Wh—Ruan Mei? Are you planning on explaining what’s going on with you? Actually don’t answer that I know you aren’t—”
Herta’s words are silenced by the tightening of Ruan Mei’s…hug. Ruan Mei of all people was hugging her. Unable to see her face as Ruan Mei rests her head over her shoulder, Herta feels Ruan Mei stagger and suddenly fall, pulling her down as well. With the strength in her legs still barely able to support her own weight, Herta crumples to her knees along with Ruan Mei.
“Ruan Mei…hah, are you so tired of taking care of me? I thought you were supposed to be the expert on reviving victims of lord ravager—ugh!”
Clearly the wrong thing to say. Ruan Mei’s hug tightens to a crushing degree, and Herta feels her fingertips digging into her back and hair, as if she would disappear without such efforts. As if to make sure Herta herself was real. The close proximity made it so Herta could feel every shake, every rattling breath taken by the other genius.
“…What happened? After I…well, I assume it was stopped somehow.”
Herta’s words are met with more silence.
“…Ruan Mei…there was no time. Not enough information, no planning, no solution. Not one that I could make lightly. But I think I made the correct choice seeing as we’re both still here.”
Still no answer.
“…I’m sorry. For not telling you. Screwy was with me then, and I felt that Stephen needed to know as my close colleague, to continue work on the simulated universe. That would of course include you as well, but…I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to be the one who…”
Herta’s words trail off as she realizes how loose Ruan Mei’s grip had become. Her breaths gradually become steady, and her shudders all but stop, reducing to occasional shivers.
Really? Falling asleep on top of your patient is just bad practice.
Herta sits for a moment, unwilling to test her weak leg muscles again just yet. She returns Ruan Mei’s hug to support her as the woman begins to slide towards the floor. Another shiver makes her look down and see the cause.
Tiny ice crystals forming between her arms and the cloth of Ruan Mei’s lab coat, no bigger than snowflakes. She pulls her arms away.
“I see. So it was the latter then. I suppose it makes sense. I doubt there would’ve been anything left of me to find.”
Still. For Ruan Mei to turn to that path? To bring back…even if it means only an imitation of true life?
Herta gently brushes her fingers along the numerous stitches lining her.
She even built me a new organic body. Hm. Of course she would. No mountain is too high for myself. Likely a transaction, in exchange for continued free reign in the space station.
With that thought, Herta decides to at least get the overworked scientist to a better place to rest.
After an arduous struggle and proving to herself that she definitely needs physical therapy, Herta manages to carry Ruan Mei to a padded examination table as a makeshift bed. After laying her down, Herta sinks into one of Ruan Mei’s chairs next to her desks.
Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, Herta’s eyes drift to the desktop monitor, most likely left running by its owner in getting Herta out of the body preservation tank.
Of course, it’s displaying an open document on Herta’s condition, likely records kept by Ruan Mei on her recovery.
A small intake of breath.
Herta’s eyes widen.
She stares at the pixels on the screen. Reads them, rereads them, triple checking that her brain isn’t still addled by its recent disuse.
“Oh.”
She tears her eyes away. They trail, over the desk, the papers strewn about, scribbles and notes in margins, over other notes, empty dishes and crumbs scattered all over the scientists work, writing utensils and tablets, bottles of painkillers and caffeine.
Finally, her gaze lands on her. The source of the mess, creator of all life in this laboratory. Of Herta herself, now, really.
Ruan Mei. Somehow she looks so small, curled up on the examination table.
The words and numbers replay in Herta’s mind. Again she takes note of the dark circles under Ruan Mei’s eyes. She sees the millions of words in her fingers, repetitions for so many system hours. Cycles of the space station. Years.
Herta slowly moves to her side. She brushes stray hairs away from Ruan Mei’s still closed eyes. It seems to ease some tension, her features softening so slightly.
Herta smiles.
“Congratulations on your newest success, Miss Ruan Mei. I’d expect nothing less.”