Chapter Text
Syringeon fought to keep himself professional as he stood by Dr. Adam on the empty train, en route to the isolation sector. It was long after hours for most of the lab staff, and with the lack of any proper memos up until this point it was clear that tonight’s rendezvous was meant to be kept on the down-low. Syringeon wasn’t unused to getting some of the lab’s more problematic cases, especially as the only givanium-based doctor on staff, but this one…he’d been certain for months upon months that he’d never hear of them again.
“You seem tense, surgeon.”
Syringeon flinched a little against his will at the doctor’s sudden comment. It was always difficult to divine Dr. Adam’s intentions, with how guarded he kept his tone at all times. “Well…To be up front, I thought we’d…repurposed 18 a long time ago.”
Dr. Adam shook his head. “We didn’t have any reason to keep you informed of Case 18’s development. It’s been mostly lateral progress…aside from its physical growth, of course.”
For once it felt strange, hearing a case spoken of in such an objective manner. Syringeon had known Case 18 since the both of them were still juvenile; for some time, he was one of the surgeon’s closest friends. They’d been together almost constantly, until the day Syringeon received the necessary injection to properly begin his surgical training…and then he heard no more of 18. Knowing in time the repertoire of the lab, he’d come to accept the worst had happened, but…
“He’s…been in testing all this time, then?” Syringeon asked carefully.
“In and out. 18 has mostly remained in the isolation sector… It’s not very cooperative,” said Dr. Adam with a tinge of apprehension. “It has proven itself a danger to any givanium organisms or human staff that get too close.”
“A danger…?” Syringeon trailed off distantly. That didn’t sound like 18 to him. 18 was occasionally mischievous, maybe a little impudent, but…never dangerous. Odd as he looked, he had far and away a bigger heart than Syringeon had ever had…metaphorically, of course.
“For some time, we worried the Leech’s animal genomes had given it a phantom bloodlust,” explained Dr. Adam. “18 seemed bent on biting and parasitizing anyone or anything it interacted with…which contributed to its exponential growth. Nevertheless, we were sure 18 still had potential, until recently.”
“Why?” asked Syringeon, trying to push down a rather unprofessional sense of worry forming in his mind.
“18 hasn’t spoken to anyone in weeks. It’s hard to tell if it even understands when human staff attempt to communicate.” Dr. Adam turned his head slightly, grey eyes becoming obscured by the reflection on his glasses. “There’s reason to believe 18’s H. verbana genome has overridden its human genome entirely.”
Syringeon’s eyes widened a little, then narrowed with suspicion. In spite of their poor reputation, leeches didn’t possess “bloodlust” any more than humans lusted for a good meal. 18 had occasionally been…bitey, but he was also one of the most observant and thoughtful cases Syringeon had ever encountered, even now.
“If 18’s human genome has been subsumed, it’s a lost cause at this point,” Dr. Adam continued. “We could try injecting another, but it’s more likely the verbana genes were just improperly balanced from the start.”
Syringeon was caught off guard by a sudden phantom pit dropping in his stomach; he ignored it. “So you’re leaning towards…”
“Repurposing, yes, but don’t sound so anxious.” Inwardly Syringeon cursed himself for not hiding his reaction better. Dr. Adam went on. “As we discussed our remaining options, we went through what we have of yours and 18’s juvenile reports. You and 18 were well-acquainted.”
“14, too,” Syringeon couldn’t help but remark. Another case he hadn’t seen much of these days, though at least he’d known she was alive.
“We don’t yet have plans to reintroduce 14 and 18,” said Dr. Adam. “18 is too volatile, and 14 is not ready for presentation. Regardless, we have a strong record of your presence serving as an anchor for 18. 18 listened to you with more consistency than our staff at times…and so, this is our last resort.”
The train came to a halt, and Dr. Adam stepped off. “If 18 does not respond to a familiar presence, there is nothing else we can do for it.”
Syringeon set his expression. He wondered if this was, in some ways, a test for him as well. He couldn’t help idly opening and closing the scissor attachment on his top left arm as he and the doctor strode down the lab’s empty halls. Since the lab had made the questionable decision that Syringeon would be of more use with the proper tools for his work constantly on hand, any more comfortable means of stimming his nervous energy away was out of the question now.
Finally he and the doctor stopped in a small dim antechamber, leading to a heavy metal sliding door. Dr. Adam turned to Syringeon, arms folded behind his back.
“Case 18 is behind this door,” he said. “The leech is cuffed and collared, but proceed with caution nevertheless.”
“Right,” muttered Syringeon. “And just what are you expecting I’ll get out of this, again?”
“We don’t need much,” said the doctor. “Just confirmation that 18 is still sentient in there…and if it isn’t, this will take even less time than expected.”
Syringeon set his jaw. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if that was the case. Certainly not a manner befitting a trained givanium specialist, though, so he needed to steel himself.
Dr. Adam inserted his keycard into the slot beside the door and then ducked into a side room, presumably to watch the whole interaction unfold from behind tinted glass.
Syringeon held himself tense as the door slid open, determined to treat this like any other patient as he stepped in. The containment unit’s bright green and blue wallpaper greeted him with a discordant cheeriness…and as Syringeon’s eyes found Case 18 across the room he knew at once his mental preparation was for naught.
The Leech had grown indeed since Syringeon had seen him last: not too much taller than the surgeon, but twice as wide. His arms, which had taken several injections to begin growing in the first place, were now thick and connected quite clearly with the clay approximation of broad, hunched shoulders. What truly made Syringeon stop, however, was when 18 turned his head upon hearing the surgeon enter. Syringeon was met with a wide, tooth-filled mouth, stained in a mixture of pale green and dry, dark red. In that moment, Syringeon found himself sick with worry that, somehow, the doctor had been right. It had been so long that the surgeon scarcely recognized his old friend.
In the absence of any sound, the massive leech swayed his head and body searchingly. Unlike his animal donor 18 possessed no eyes or spots at all, but he had retained a few of that donor’s habits regardless to try and get as good a view of the world as he could. The motion was familiar…too familiar to Syringeon.
Against his better judgement he took a step forward. “…18?”
At once the leech’s body froze. His mouth hung open, odd guttural sounds emitting from it as if he was struggling to speak. Syringeon’s pessimism began to get the better of him.
“4…is it really you?”
Syringeon blinked. His voice was so different. Deep and low, rough from disuse. But there was no mistaking his words. “18… Of course, of course it’s me.”
Before he could rein himself in Syringeon was taking another step closer, then another, until he was close enough to touch his old friend’s shoulders. He spread all four of his arms, freezing hesitantly as he remembered his tool attachments…but 18 beat him to the punch. Having his arms firmly cuffed behind his back did nothing to stop him from sliding forward and pressing his body into the surgeon’s, an unconventional embrace Syringeon had gone without for far too long.
“It is you…” 18 shifted upward to tuck his head right in under Syringeon’s chin. “I thought I would never see you again.”
A phantom pang shot through Syringeon’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around 18 as tightly as he could manage. “Likewise…my friend.”
He pulled away, looking over 18 for any cracks, scars, any clues to what he’d been through. “They took you away without explaining, I thought…well…”
“Hm. I don’t blame you. I have not seen any other cases in some time, aside from…well.” Idly his dark tongue flicked over one of his stained teeth. “Bait.”
Syringeon stared incredulously. What on earth had the doctors been putting him through? “They…they think your human genome isn’t active anymore,” he breathed. “The doctor, he told me you’ve been acting like some mindless animal, but…”
18 scoffed. “That’s a problem for them now, is it… They have been treating me like a mindless animal since the day they shut me away in the dark.”
The leech shifted back until his tail pressed against the wall, back hunched forward with exhaustion. “They shock me, shut me in a room, allow me to grow arms only to hold them behind my back when I don’t respond the way I should…If they are going to treat me like a monster, why shouldn’t I feel justified in acting like one?”
Syringeon’s chest seized, like someone had plunged their fingers into his plasticine clay skin before making a fist. He approached 18 again, carefully laying a blunt metal claw on the leech’s arm. He struggled to think of something to say, but couldn’t. The doctors surely had a good, logical purpose to run whatever tests he’d gone through, but…
“…Is that your hand?” 18 asked quietly, interrupting Syringeon’s thoughts. “It’s cold…feels like some tool.”
The surgeon averted his eyes, even though he didn’t really need to. “They…replaced my hands. I can perform surgery with more efficiency than ever before, but…”
He raised another of his hands to rest on 18’s shoulder, the pair of metal scissors. 18 was still and quiet for a moment, then sighed raggedly, shoving his body against the wall. “This isn’t right,” he hissed. “This isn’t how you treat people.”
“But we’re not people,” said Syringeon. “We’re not animals either, we’re something different -“
“Are we really?” 18 pushed himself off the wall. “You and I, we can think for ourselves. We can understand language, we have memories and how? Because these doctors,” — he spat the word like a curse — “injected us with the same genetic material that makes them human, the knowledge that enables them to communicate. And they think they’re owed animalistic obedience from us regardless?”
Syringeon couldn’t help casting a nervous side eye to the darkened window against the opposite wall. “18 -“
“I may not remember who my donor was, who I may have been, but I know I am a person, 4.” 18 made a point to face the surgeon. “And so are you. Why let them convince you you’re only a tool, reshape you until that’s all that remains?”
Syringeon was silent, feelings and thoughts fighting indiscriminately behind his eyes. Again, he wondered if this was as much a test for him as it was for 18. Dr. Adam had emphasized the leech’s uncivilized behavior, his inability to communicate, but…18 was more eloquent than he’d ever been. Bitter and honest about his circumstance, perhaps more honest than the lab staff would have liked. Maybe they had already made their decision about what to do with such an uncooperative subject…and now they just wanted to see if Syringeon was turning out just as bad. The thought, unfortunately, only made Syringeon feel more bitter himself. Above all else, he was relieved to finally have 18 back. Test or no…he didn’t want the leech to be taken from him again.
“Around here…they repurpose anything they can’t use,” the surgeon finally said gravely. “If you shape yourself into something with potential, keep them happy enough to know you aren’t a lost cause… It’s how you stay alive.” He laid his claw on 18’s arm again. “And it’s…good you’re still alive.”
18 was quiet in turn for a few moments, silently shifting his body around until Syringeon got the hint and shuffled in closer, letting 18’s head rest on his shoulder. He was so large, yet treated Syringeon with a caution he’d never possessed as a juvenile. Maybe all those files were right about their bond with each other.
“If I need to play nice in order to survive…so be it,” 18 whispered, only loud enough for Syringeon to hear. “I want to believe…that we can be more than this, 4. That there is something beyond these walls for us, and one day we will seize it for ourselves.”
Syringeon’s reply caught in his throat. Since he was juvenile, he’d seen the best in the scientists that had created them, in spite of their methods. They were unknowable, but he’d never known them to be cruel or wasteful. If this was what they did to cases they found difficult, or worse, too introspective…
“…I am happy to see you again, 4.” 18’s head nudged against his jaw, as it had done many times when they were both much newer. “Truly, I am.”
Syringeon pressed his lips together, tense, then finally allowed his head to relax against his friend’s. “Me too,” he murmured. “More than you know.”
—————
“Passed with flying colors,” Dr. Adam said, already there to greet Syringeon on the other side of the door when he exited. “I had a suspicion that 18 was being difficult on purpose.”
“So I was just bait,” Syringeon couldn’t help but remark dryly. “How long have you been isolating him for?”
“A moot point now, doctor,” said Dr. Adam. “What matters is that we can proceed with testing as usual.”
He gave Syringeon a meaningful glance. “And it’ll be in our best interests now to keep you closely involved with 18’s development…barring any complications.”
Syringeon kept his expression neutral, understanding at once the doctor’s words. This was, indeed, as much an observation of him as it was the leech. Did he have the strength to quash the inconvenient lingering human emotions getting in the way of his work…and did he have the initiative to do the same for the subjects that came under his hands.
“Well,” he finally said. “I’m glad this was worth both our time, then.”
“Very much so,” agreed the doctor. “18 has a lot of potential. For his sake and ours, let’s hope it isn’t squandered.”