Chapter Text
You had never been so cold in all your life, and yet so hot with anticipation. The North Atlantic offered a chill that even foggy London could not provide, but the crisp, icy air smelled like opportunity, or even escape. Escape from what, you weren't quite sure, because your woes had certainly followed you here. But perhaps for a moment you could indulge in the romantic notion that new land and new waters could wash away the chains of ambivalence.
To your right, the good doctor swore for what might have been the hundredth time in the past hour. You felt your hands tighten around the ship’s taffrail. You sighed and turned to him.
“Doctor, what–”
“Damn this blasted device!” He huffed. “It’s the bloody cold, I swear”.
“It’s only a prototype, Doctor.”
At that, his head snapped up from his device. A scowl gouged itself onto his face. “You think I don’t know that? Don’t you dare patronize me, girl. This device has yet to steer me wrong in any temperate location. It is our surroundings, not the device. Perhaps if you weren’t just standing there gawking at floating chunks of ice, you’d be of some bloody use! But no, you’d rather plague me with your sarcasm.”
Your shoulders hunched. “I wasn’t being sarcastic–”
“You were!”
There was a moment of silence before you approached him slowly, gently placing your hands over his, ready to take the device. Your posture had shrunken, almost as if you yourself were a melting ice cap in the springtime.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “Please, let me be of use. Take a break.”
He scrunched his nose and looked conflicted for a moment, then, “Fine. Thank you.”
You watched as he stormed in the direction of the ship's quarters, likely to fetch his pipe. This was good news, as his pipe always seemed to shave the sharp edges off his sour moods.
You inspected the wooden handle, then the photographic plate encased in a glass sphere.
Perhaps the Doctor was right, and the cold has weakened the structure of the plate.
You opened the sphere, lifting the plate from the two metal prongs holding it.
There was a smudge on it, rubbing your finger over it revealed a sticky texture clinging to its surface.
Or perhaps the good doctor had eaten his oatmeal next to his very expensive, cutting edge radiation detection equipment.
You used your spit to wipe the smudge clean, placed the plate back into its prongs, and closed the sphere. Gripping the wooden handle, you raised the detector and pointed it at various crew members. Predictably, no strong signs of radiation showed up, only very slight changes in the plate shifted the black of the plate into small flecks of white, indicative of the small level of radioactivity that humans carried with them. Strangely, it occurred to you that from a certain angle it may seem as if you were pointing a gun at them.
Circling around to test if the plate was responding well to variance of radiation, you found yourself pointing at the open sea, when slowly, white began to bloom from the epicenter of the photo plate, spreading into a star-like formation.
Your brows furrowed, lowering the detector to inspect its inside once more, only for the white to quickly fade away, resolving itself to its neutral black.
Your head whipped back upwards, eyes landing on a strange, diamond shaped ice formation that was about the size of a large carriage. You raised the detector, slowly, unsure if you had really stumbled upon such good fortune so early in their journey. Surely enough, white bloomed across the plate.
Your heart began to race.
“Doctor! I think you need to see this!” you shouted, cold wind pouring into your throat.
Maybe new land and new waters bore good fortune after all.
Somehow the Doctor had convinced the crew to rope the ice formation to the side of the ship, pulling it along until they finally reached the harbor the next day. You almost felt sorry for them, as you knew the work two hairbrained scientists could ask for was absurd to the common man. Regardless, you and the Doctor could not let such a marvel slip from their hands, so the icicle came with.
Greenland had a strange beauty to it. You had read about its nature, people, and history extensively in preparation for this trip, but nothing could entirely prepare one for the strangeness of a new land. Like the English countryside, there were many green hills, but they were backgrounded by towering dark mountains. You had traveled some across Europe, but never had been to the more mountainous regions of the continent. The doctor always excluded you on his trips to Switzerland, something that invoked a bitterness in you that you tried to not let ruin this grand moment of newness and possibility.
The crew had already begun to unload the ship when a carriage pulled up. You were momentarily stunned at its opulence, as it had color and intricacy that was usually not found in colonies like that of Greenland. By and large the colony was populated by the native Inuit and settler Danes, not people who could afford such a carriage. Whoever was inside would have had to have this carriage brought along from the continent ona rather large boat. This struck you as a waste of boat space and resources.
The carriage door swung open and out stepped an old man with an entirely white head of hair and beard. His eyes sat far forward in his sockets, almost giving a bug-like impression. The blueish green tint of them only intensified this likeness.
Those bug eyes crinkled, though, as he stretched his face into a wrinkly grin. He threw his arms open and shouted, “Dr. Henry Sweet, in the flesh at last!”
The Doctor returned this smile, trotting haughtily towards the other man like a fussy dog who had just been praised by its owner.
Your Doctor opened his arms as well and embraced the man, and spoke over his back. “Dr. Larsen,” he pulled back, looking the grey man in the face, “you’ve gotten old.”
Dr. Larsen seemed to think this was funny, as he let a hyena guffaw rip from his chest. “Ah, all that Danish sun seems to have aged me, yes?”
Your Doctor laughed, but that laugh was cut short as Dr. Larsen’s gaze shifted towards you, a strange but familiar expression taking his face.
Larsen raised an eyebrow. “And who might this be?”
Dr. Sweet waved his hands dismissively, but you knew him well enough to spot his discomfort. This situation was not uncommon, after all.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, she is my assistant and maid. As you know the mark of genius often carries the burden of not being able to properly care for oneself.” He followed this statement with an awkward laugh, as he always did when the question of her purpose came up.
Larsen apparently wasn’t the sort of man to dwell on things, especially not in the ecstatic mood he had approached them. He nodded at you with a grunt of acknowledgement, then turned his attention back to her Doctor.
You tried not to grind your teeth.
Your Doctor’s voice pitched once again. “Nevermind that then, a miracle has struck us Larsen! Look!”
Your Doctor then pulled Larsen closer to the ship, bringing the ice formation they had brought along into sight.
“How lovely, Dr. Sweet, you’ve gone mad at sea and brought an iceberg onto land.” Larsen teased.
“No, no. This is not an iceberg, those are much larger. But that’s besides the point.” Dr. Sweet grabbed the detector from hands hastily, pointing it at the ice formation. Once again, white bloomed across the black photo plate.
Dr. Larsen’s eye grew big as…well, you didn’t know of any insects with eyes quite that large. You feared they’d pop out of their sockets.
“Radiation.” Larsen whispered reverently. “This could–”
“Treat the plague? Yes, indeed.” Dr. Sweet gloated.
Larsen began to laugh again, this time with clear disbelief. “I invite you here to research the illness, and you’ve found..found…”
“Think!” Dr. Sweet interjected, “Radium has already proven effective at shrinking cancerous tumors. Medicine has only been held back by a lack of the stuff. Imagine what good it could do for those who ail from this ever so pervasive blood malady.”
“You think the ice is storing radium?” Larsen asked.
At this, Dr. Sweet faltered a bit. “Perhaps. I cannot know for sure. But I can’t imagine what else could be emitting such a strong signal.”
Larsen’s voice took on a determined edge.“Then we must take it apart.”
Dr. Sweet nodded. “Yes, but carefully. Breaking into the ice too quickly could damage any radium inside. I’d say just let it melt, but I don’t know if we want to waste the time sitting on our rears.”
Larsen nodded. “I agree. We’ll arrange a method to get to the radium as safely and quickly as possible. Christian! Help my dear friend here load his belongings into the carriage.”
At that, your head moved to face a man whose presence you had not noticed until Larsen had pointed him out. He was a short, inuit man, with rich ocher brown skin. He was clothed in furs, yet they added a softness to his countenance.
Christian nodded, silently approaching. First he took her Doctor’s bag without a word, and then returned to take yours from your hands.
He tipped his head at you and spoke, “M’Lady.” As your hands met on the handle of the bag, it struck you that your hands were very similar shades of brown.
How long had it been since you had held your hand up to another’s and weren’t faced with a stark contrast between pale and dark? You could not remember. You mumbled a quiet “thank you”, then trundled into the carriage
The sound of the Doctor slowly chipping away at the ice was as melodic as it was grating. On one hand, you were equally excited at the prospect of uncovering the solution to the very problem they had come to research, on the other yet it had been over four weeks since you’d arrived and began your research on the local population and how they’d been affected by the disease. Overall the research was coming along slowly and you hadn’t been getting the answers you were hoping for. This meant that time spent with the icicle was cut short by the need to focus on what you’d actually come here after all: research on the disease.
While the Doctor had let you take a pretty active role in his epidemiological research, you had been reduced to nothing more than a water boy in regards to his work on the crystal. No matter how many times you had slyly suggested that you work in shifts to speed up the work, he had decided that this work was too delicate for untrained hands such as yours.
As if you hadn’t been a scientist in your own right under his tutelage for years now.
A groan snapped you from your malaise, drawing your attention to the Doctor. He wiped sweat from his brow, looking up towards the large, circular window that provided light into the wooden building that acted as a smaller research station for the purposes of the crystal. This alongside the burning fireplace kept the cabin quite warm.
The sunlight did some good in softening the ice and days in Greenland, during this time of year, were unendingly long. But it was a constant balancing act between not melting the ice too fast--lest anything inside the crystal be damaged–and not wasting much more time than they already had. Long sessions working on the crystal were not favorable.
“The chisel has grown too dull.” The Doctor grumbled.
You immediately stood. “I’ll fetch the sharpening—”
He waved his hand dismissively. “They have rusted, I checked earlier. You must not have dried them properly.”
You froze, and then blushed. “I’m sorry Doctor.”
“It’s fine…fine. I’m tired just, please, go fetch some new tools.”
At this you swallowed, then, “Perhaps we could send one of Larsen’s men to fetch the tools and I could keep working in your stead. Surely it cannot be so dull that work is impossible for some time.”
The Doctor took a moment to stare at you with a sort of pitying, disappointed look on his face. He rubbed the center of his brow, presumably trying to remove a headache.
“Child, please don’t be difficult. Close the curtains and I’ll pick back up tomorrow. I need…rest.”
The Doctor stood slowly from his squatting stool, a reminder of his ever increasing age. He shuffled towards the door, slapping a firm, yet sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Your gaze was focused on the wooden table beneath you. He announced his departure with the creaking sound of the door opening, the cracking whips of the Greenland air rushing into the cabin, and then the slam of the door shutting.
You felt your eyes water in frustration, then in sadness, then anger. You threw the nearest notebook to you across the room, then felt immediately ashamed and childish for such a reaction.
You cleaned up cursorily as you could, then stormed towards the market.
The market was a bustling place, despite Greenland being largely devoid of life due to its overlap with the Arctic Circle. Both Inuit folk and Danish settlers sold and bought mainly fish and animal hides. The image almost looked like something straight out of a Christmas card, yet the snow on the ground was patchy instead of full, as early spring continued to roll through Greenland.
When you approached a metal work stall, you were surprised to see Christian. Though you knew he worked for Dr. Larsen, you weren't quite sure what exactly the man did for him. He seemed to be a glorified fetching boy.
The irony that many people likely had the same thought about you in regards to Dr. Sweet did not escape you.
Christian spotted you, waving as you appraised his work. “Ah, my lady. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You smiled humbly. “Hello Christian. I fear I’m in need of a chisel and a sharpening blade.”
He titled his head. “Still working on that strange icicle you found?”
You hummed in affirmation.
“Well, this is what you’ll need then.” He handed her the chisel, the sharpening knife, and a small, delicate knife as well.
Realizing what he was doing, you shook your head. “Oh, no. I can’t—”
“Hush. It’s not my best work anyways. I need someone to take it off my hands, might as well be you.”
His kindness brought an honest smile to your face, and only strengthened your curiosity towards him.
“Christian, how did you come to learn English?” This was, after all, a Danish colony.
He squinted. “How did you?”
You laughed openly at that. “Quite fair. The English and our influence seem to extend far past our physical presence. I suppose Dr. Sweet and I are the first actual Brits you’ve met.”
He paused, his face still. “Interesting you consider yourself a Brit. Perhaps I, then, am a Dane?”
You had nothing to say to that. You bid him farewell, paid him, then continued through the market.
Even after having spent an extra hour than necessary at the market observing people and trinkets, the sun still sat in the sky, only teasing the sunset. Your wristwatch told you it was half past twenty hundred hours. The unnatural length of daylight here was both draining and beautiful.
You headed back towards the small research cabin. Your frustration with Doctor Sweet had yet to fade and Christian’s words only stoked the fire. You did not blame him, and knew that he was poking at some salient point, but regardless you did not feel equipped to act as the mature adult you ought to be around your mentor. So, the comfort of the main house would have to wait.
As you pushed the door open, you immediately were struck by a strange wetness on the floor beneath you. Looking down, the floor indeed was covered in water.
Your heart stopped.
Slowly, you raised your head upwards, feeling the warmth of the setting sun upon the top of your head, and then on your face as you were greeted by the sight of the sunlight beaming through the large, round window in the cabin’s roof structure.
You had forgotten to pull the curtains.
No less, the fire was still smoldering in the fireplace, though weakly.
The Doctor was right not to trust you. You were entirely incapable and stupid. From where you were standing, you could not even see the crystal, it had likely melted to nothing more than a chunk on the ground.
Staring back at the water at your feet, your vision too began to water. Unconsciously, you fell to your knees, and then onto your hands. Small, pathetic whimpers wrung their way out of you. This crystal meant so much to you, to your mentor, hell, even to Larsen!
What were you to do?
Your hands clawed against the watery floor, bumping against the nearest wooden table. You gripped the leg, beginning to shake it back and forth childishly in anger and frustration. Groaning sounds rang out as you shook the old wood, but suddenly, those sounds began to overlap on themselves.
You stopped. The groaning sounded…organic. Had an animal gotten into the cabin? Had your failure compounded on itself even further?
On the ground, you looked beneath the table, hoping to spot whatever had made it into the cabin.
A body.
A scream left your body before you could think, backpedaling yourself onto your rear end and flush into the door.
What?
Your breath came out fast, vapor accompanying it, as the fire had fully died out minutes ago during your tantrum.
Carefully, you lowered yourself onto your hands and knees, wanting to get another look at…what you had seen, without having to approach.
On the ground was a body—a man? Covered in what were seemingly scars, but your anatomical mind told you otherwise. These were not rupture points that had healed or had been sewn back together. These were…sealed points. Almost like each piece of skin had been laid together like a puzzle and then sutured. Your mind spun.
What?
The skin was grey, white, green, red. Desaturated, like the color had been bled from it. It was unnaturally pale, corpse-like.
The hair was long and brown, and mostly unremarkable aside from looking healthy and lush. This in and of itself stood to further confound you.
The man was still, as if in a deep slumber. Deciding it was safe to approach, and curiosity growing more voracious by the second, you crawled closer, around the table, until you were face to face with him. You could not bring yourself to stand. You did not want to wake him. This moment, this experience, felt primal.
You were so close now you could touch him. From this distance you could see the shock of white hair on the right side of his head. The sealing scars covered the entirety of his body, even his face, which itself was…statuesque. Carved.
You became so aware of your breathing, the rush of your blood, you felt that it may spontaneously cease at any moment.
He was beautiful.
A scientific marvel. An angel? A devil? No, such fanciful thinking did not suit this age or such a mind as yours. This was something you did not understand. Perhaps his scars were there because this man had simply been in a terrible accident, and his paleness could be explained by his time spent frozen.
But no, no ordinary man could survive being frozen as long as he had, who knows how long before you and the Doctor had found him. A mere man’s heart would not resume beating, and here before your very eyes his chest rose and fell as he took one breath after another.
Gently, you ran the tips of your fingers over his cheeks, then his nose, then his lips. The gentle stream of air from his nostrils caressed your fingers, almost as if they were encouraging your exploration.
Next, you rubbed his hair between your fingers, finding that it distinctly lacked an animal texture. Human and soft, if slightly wet.
Hesitantly, you leaned over him, then lowered your head towards his chest. He was dressed in dark clothing and cloaked in furs. The soft texture of the fur met your face, and you pressed your ear down as firmly as you could. As you predicted, a strong, steady heartbeat echoed through his chest, like a lovely sonnet. The rush of his blood in your ears made your eyes well up again, but for an entirely different reason.
How was this possible? You didn’t know. He was a scientific impossibility.
He was no radium, but he was something infinitely better.
Immediately after that thought came to your mind, you knew that you could not let Dr. Sweet or Dr. Larsen know about this. For some reason, his presence had been emitting a high level of radiation, and they would want to investigate. They would vivisect him, scrap him for parts, and hope that it would somehow yield a treatment for the illness.
He was too beautiful to receive such treatment. However he had come to be, it was a testament to science, to anatomy. There was more radium in the world, elsewhere. Someone like him, you knew, could not be found again.
“I’ll be back.” you whispered.
You had to find a way to move his body, and you knew Larsen kept a wheelbarrow near his stable.
The sun had fallen even lower in the sky, but you did not fear the coming of darkness as you felt that you had been filled with an inner light at your discovery.
The winds had slowed your travel, but alas you arrived back at the cabin, breath nearly stolen from you, but determination certainly not.
You tiredly pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind you. You were paranoid beyond reason that someone may have followed you or seen what you were doing. Better safe than sorry.
You approached the spot in front of the fireplace where the body had been laying, your feet sloshing across the water as the floor was still quite wet.
The ground was empty.
The body was gone. He was gone.
Suddenly it struck you how dark the cabin was. You had actually remembered to draw the curtains before you left this time, and the fire was entirely dead.
How could he have escaped? He seemed nearly comatose. Though his breathing was strong it was slow, like that of someone in a deep sleep. He had been frozen solid for Christ’s sake!
Panic began to fill your veins. You couldn’t lose him. What if he was spotted?
You turned on your heels, heading back towards the door, when suddenly you were struck by the feeling of shadows coming alive from behind you and the subtlest sound of fabric shifting against itself.
Suddenly, a cold, firm hand was on your mouth and a strong, large forearm across your middle.
Heavy breaths fanned across your neck. Long brown hair tickled the side of your face and hung over your chest as you looked down. You crooked your head to your left and looked up, up, up, and finally, met a pair of eyes. Both dark, wide, wet, and deep. One of them had a strange shine to them, like that of a wolf’s at night.
His mouth flapped open and closed as if he was struggling to breathe, or perhaps speak. Was he still recovering from the cold?
“D-d-don’t….sss-sc-scream.” He sputtered. His voice had an animalistic growl to it, one you could hardly compare to any other creature, for you knew no other creature but man that could speak. And yet.
He blinked at you. A gravelly chuffing sound made its way out of his throat, almost pleading in nature.
“P-p-please.” He begged.
Your heart rate ratcheted. A polite creature. A polite inhuman creature that stood here and begged. A laugh began to bubble up inside you and then it escaped. The creature looked alarmed and then confused upon realizing that you were in fact laughing, and not screaming.
A polite creature that could speak, how absurd.
Your vision grew spotty, and then, you fainted.