#also this is NOT tcdts canon just to be clear haha

[godlizzza]

stop me if this is too angsty but. in couple down the street vers. how would dan respond to herbs untimely (and unreversible) death? or vice versa if you think that's more interesting. (unreversible can mean that the reagent fails or the body is damaged beyond use or whatever else you can think of). if you don't wanna write something that sad, how would they manage in the long-term if one of them underwent a successful reanimation?

There had been a time when Herbert had never dreamed he would share a bed with someone. Sleep was already something he abhorred- such a damnable wasted of time that could be better spent elsewhere. The thought of being at his most vulnerable and having another person there for extended hours had made him want to gag.

But that was before Dan.

After fifteen years of marriage, he had grown accustomed to the reassuring weight of Dan's body dipping the mattress, his warmth seeping into Herbert while they peacefully slept in each other's arms.

Now, he felt the absence of it like a severed limb. Their bed seemed impossibly huge without Dan there beside him, the sheets a stiff glacial face without Dan there to warm them. Herbert always found himself waking to find his arm stretched out across the mattress, as though seeking out something that wasn't there. Every day was a numbing blow as he remembered and it crashed down on him all over again.

He had rarely slept in the two weeks since it had happened. It had been years since he'd used the re-agent as a stimulant, but without Dan's disapproving glare to convince him otherwise, it was easy to forgo climbing into his marital bed alone and letting vicious nightmares take him. Besides, he needed the nights to think.

The mornings were the hardest, not just because of waking up alone or going through the motions of getting ready for work when he had no desire to go, but because of the oppressive silence. Usually, Dan's voice would be in his ear, mumbling a sleepy, "Good morning," followed by a kiss. He'd be the one chatting away as he made coffee, cracking awful jokes to try and get Herbert to smile. He always did, much to his annoyance and Dan's delight.

But now Dan's voice was gone, and with it any chance of cheer at a new day. Herbert was left to sit at the cold marble counter alone, forcing himself to eat. He had no appetite but knew he would be useless if he collapsed from lack of energy. A few times he'd tried playing music from the radio but it was no better. Every song reminded him of Dan- a song he liked, a song he'd sing in the car or in the shower, a song he'd play in the operating room and bounce his eyebrows to as he cut into flesh. On one occasion the radio had had the audacity to play Islands in the Stream, causing Herbert to wordlessly cross the room and smash the radio against the hardwood floor.

The days were long. The nights longer. Their house felt like a prison, trapped with memories that threatened to drown Herbert in despair. Herbert had never realised until then his reason for living could be taken away from him. That every breath he drew was in service of being with Dan, and without him there it was a chore to remember.

Life was tedious and pointless, all the daily motions dragging at his feet. He often felt the desire to simply fall to the floor and never get up again. But he couldn't do that. If he did, then Dan would truly be lost to him forever.

It was some weeks after the incident when a knock came at the door, startling Herbert out of the mountain of notes he'd been scribbling. He stood gingerly, his knees and back cracking from being sat, stooped over, for so long. He stepped around the piles of papers he'd haphazardly stacked around the living room and made his way to the front door. He peered through the peephole and sighed when he saw who it was.

"Piper," was all he said when he opened the door on his young protégée.

Piper's huge eyes stared up at him from beneath her fringe of blonde hair. Her chin was bowed to her chest and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She looked like a child wearily preparing for a scolding.

"Hi, Dr. West," she said nervously. "Um, how are you?"

Herbert stared at her without blinking. "How do you think?"

Piper flinched though he'd put no venom into the words. "Um...terrible?"

"Correct," he answered and stepped aside. "Come in."

She did and he shut the door behind her. She glanced slowly around the house and Herbert could only imagine how it- and he- must have looked to her. Dan had always insisted on keeping the house clean, but Herbert hadn't been able to muster up the motivation on his own, especially when he was in the middle of something far more important. This disregard for appearances extended to himself as well. He hadn't shaved in weeks, causing his jaw to be speckled with growing stubble. His use of the re-agent as a means of not sleeping had left his skin with an odd, waxy pallor and deep shadows beneath his eyes. It had been days since he'd last showered or brushed his teeth, and he'd been practically living in Dan's old Red Sox jersey.

"What is all of this?" Piper asked, picking up one of the many papers lining the living room and kitchen.

Herbert watched her as she read. She seemed to grow taller every time Herbert saw her. It had been a few years since he'd taken her under his wing, nursing her mind to be capable of things girls her age couldn't even comprehend. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tucked behind her ears and revealing two sparkling studs in her earlobes. Her body had been stretched taught, her wrists and ankles rail-thin with her latest growth spurt. The sparkly pink unicorn t-shirts and frilly skirts she once wore were replaced with a knitted sweater and denim shorts. She was growing, Herbert realised. Getting older. Soon she would be in middle school.

"Dr. West..."

Her voice was uncertain as she turned back around to face him, her eyebrows knitted with concern. She glanced from the paper in her hands and back up to him before swallowing. "This is- This sounds like a theory to-?"

"Come with me," Herbert told her, instantly starting down the hall. "I have something to show you."

It was a moment before he heard her tentative footsteps following him. When they reached the door leading down to the basement, he whirled on her.

"You haven't told your parents anything about what happened, have you?" he demanded.

"N-No," she stuttered, her shoulders locked up around her ears. "I haven't told anyone, just like you said."

Herbert released a breath, his hand paused on the doorknob. "Good. We can't let anyone know. That would...complicate things."

"But, Dr. West, why? I still don't understand why."

"In a moment you will," Herbert promised and opened the door.

He descended into the misty green glow of the lab, followed by Piper. Once inside, he stepped over to the operating table. He'd placed a billowing white sheet over it, covering the contents beneath. When he turned to face Piper again the girl's eyes were locked onto the lumpy shape under the sheet.

"Piper," he began. "I should apologise to you. The past few weeks have probably been quite confusing for you."

She looked at him with watery eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin, straight line to fight the wobbles in her lip. She had been with him when the re-animation had gone wrong. It was a blur in his mind still, only snatches of memory from that cursed night invading his dreams. But he perfectly remembered the lab in a complete mess, the cadaver's face crushed in by the shovel in his hand, and Dan. Dan lying in the middle of the floor, his body something out of a horror.

Herbert had sworn Piper to secrecy before sending her away, screaming at her to get out. She hadn't returned since, perhaps waiting for Herbert to reach out to her first or even assuming that her apprenticeship was over.

"I'm sorry," she whispered now. "It was all my fault. If Dr. Cain hadn't been trying to protect me, he wouldn't have-"

"Shh," Herbert hissed, and she clamped her mouth shut. "None of that matters now. What matters is me knowing if I can depend on your help."

"Of course," Piper rushed to say. "But with what?"

"With this," Herbert said and pulled the sheet to flutter to the floor.

Piper sucked in a horrified gasp. On the cold slab lay Dan's remains. Herbert had done his best to repair what damage he could; he'd sewn up the gashes along his chest and stomach, he'd reattached Dan's jaw and stitched the skin along his throat back together, and cleaned all the blood (some his own, some not) that had been sprayed across him. There was little he could do about the arm and leg that had been ripped off. The limbs had been destroyed in the struggle, so Herbert had had to settle on pinching off the exposed arteries and veins, leaving the bone protruding from his shoulder and the stump of his thigh on display.

From the neck down, he was a mangled mess, but if Herbert concentrated on his face, he could imagine he was just asleep. That's all it really was anyway, Herbert thought as he stroked Dan's cheek. A long sleep. A coma. One he would wake up from with a little help.

"I- What is-?" Piper fumbled to say, seemingly unable to rip her eyes away from Dan.

Herbert placed two soft kisses over Dan's closed eyelids before straightening up. He ran his thumb along the inside of his fingers, brushing where his and Dan's wedding rings were stacked above his knuckle.

"We're going to bring him back," Herbert told Piper.

Her eyes finally bounced to him, wide and wild. "But that's impossible. His body's too damaged. Besides, he's been dead for too long."

Herbert didn't wince at the word dead. He had long ago learnt that death was not the end, merely a state of being. One that was difficult to come back from, but not impossible.

"I applied a balm to him. It's something Dan tinkered with for quite some time but the end product is remarkable. It'll keep his body from decaying and give us time to find him the parts he needs."

"But Dr. West," Piper stammered. "We've never done anything like this before. I mean, building a new body?"

"Dan and I did it once, half a lifetime ago," Herbert said, his mind flashing back to that house they'd shared in Arkham and the bride they'd built there. He closed his eyes and shook away the memory of her cracked and crying voice melting along with the rest of her. He blinked and focused on Dan's serene face. "With all the knowledge we've gained since then, it'll be simple."

"But his injuries," Piper tried to argue. "His heart was torn."

"And can be easily replaced," Herbert snapped. "Along with the rest. It's his brain that's important. He faced minimal head trauma. A fractured skull but no damage to the brain. He'll be able to be brought back."

When Piper spoke again it was so softly, Herbert nearly didn't hear her. She was looking at the floor, away from Dan's remains, when she said, "But is that what Dr. Cain would want?"

Anger coursed through Herbert's veins, sudden and hot. He slammed his hand down on the operating table, his palm landing beside Dan's grazed ankle with a mighty slap. Piper jumped, shying away from the furious look Herbert turned on her.

"Don't you tell me what he would want!" he yelled, his voice cracking and straining after weeks of silence. "I know him more than you could ever hope to. Everything in this world, we've experienced together. He was mine. You hear me? Mine and no one else's. So don't you dare tell me what he would want." His breath rasped out of him as Piper hid her face in her hands. "What he wants," he corrected.

He blinked and shook his head against the black spots dotting his vision. He'd been awake nearly fifty-two hours and his mind was beginning to slip. He had to grip the edge of the table for a minute, the cold metal biting into his fingertips, before the world swam back into focus and he straightened himself up. He turned once more to Piper, who was watching him from between her fingers.

"Piper," he tried again. "You know, Dan never wanted to take you on. He thought bringing a child into our work was a terrible idea. But he did it anyway, because he had faith in me and I had that same faith in you." He pursed his lips as he considered her. "Are you going to tell me now that that faith was misplaced?"

"No!" Piper cried out, letting go of her face to clamber forward and throw her arms around Herbert. She buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing him tight with her skinny arms. "I'm sorry, Dr. West. You can count on me."

Herbert smiled down at her and patted the top of her head soothingly. She had a brilliant mind for her age, but she was also crushingly predictable. She could hold the secrets of life and death in her hands, but she would also always be a little girl, seeking approval and praise from him.

"I hope so," he said. "I need you, Piper. Dan needs you. He needs both of us."

She tipped her head up to sniffle at him, her eyes red and puffy with tears. "I wanna help."

"Good," Herbert said softly.

Piper released him and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "But how? Where are we gonna find new parts for him?"

"Where do you think?"

He swept away from her, approaching the double-door steel freezer shoved against the far wall. He opened one door and reached inside the waft of cool air that hit him until he found what he was looking for and extracted it. He turned, the metal bowl filled with ice cupped neatly in his hands, and showed Piper his prize. She didn't gasp this time as she looked upon the perfectly preserved foot, sawed off at the ankle.

"A foot," she said simply, staring as Herbert slipped on a pair of gloves and placed the foot on the operating table, next to Dan's other foot.

"Yes," Herbert agreed. "A size eleven. It belonged to a thirty-nine-year-old male. A near-perfect fit."

"You got it from the hospital?" Piper inquired, squatting down to blink at the pale soles.

"I did," Herbert said. "The man was brought in with a compound fracture to the tibia he suffered during a multiple-collision car accident. He had nerve damage all along his Achilles tendon and unfortunately, we had to amputate."

Piper frowned as she inspected the amputation site. "Really? The Achilles looks fine to me."

"That's because it is," Herbert told her sharply. "But he doesn't know that. As far as his chart is concerned, the foot was unsalvageable."

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in and her mouth fell open. "You mean you...You stole it?"

He stared at her coolly. He didn't look away, didn't falter. He let her stare into his eyes and see the resolution there. Only when he didn't immediately jump to defend himself did Piper close her mouth.

"Think of it as an organ donation." Herbert said. "Besides, it's not so bad. The amputation was below the knee. With a good prosthetic, he'll walk again." He folded his hands behind his back and rotated so he was looking down at Dan, now with one piece closer to being whole again. "I couldn't take the rest of his leg. He was too short. I won't have Dan coming back as some malformed thing. It has to be perfect. You need to understand, Piper, that this isn't some foolish game. This is the most important thing you or I will ever do."

She stepped up to his side and he glanced down at her. Her gaze was fixed on the foot, exactly the same length as Dan's.

"You'll have to do things you may not want to do," he said, making his voice softer now. "Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely and reached out to grasp his hand. He gripped her hand in return.

"To help Dr. Cain," she said in an odd tone, and Herbert nodded.

"That's right. We have to do everything in our power to help him, then everything can go back to the way it was before."

"Right," Piper said shakily, rapidly blinking her lashes.

"And we'll have to work quickly as well. I wrote into the hospital on Dan's computer, telling them he's suffered a death in the family. They've put him on compassionate leave, but that'll only last so long. It's only a matter of time before someone realises he's gone, and then suspicion will automatically fall on me." He glanced down at their matching wedding rings on his finger and sighed. "It's always the husband."

"Don't worry, Dr. West," Piper said, staring up at him with an expression of determination fixed on her face. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. And we'll fix Dr. Cain."

Herbert smiled for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the same smile that Dan would draw out of him but it was a smile, nonetheless.

"Yes, we will," he said.

He looked at Dan, his husband, his partner in life and death, and felt his resolve steel. Their time on this Earth wasn't over yet. 'Til death do we part, they had said to each other fifteen years ago, but Herbert supposed he had lied. He wasn't going to let an insignificant thing like death come between them.

"I know it."