Chapter Text
Everything hurt. Your skin from bruises and cuts, your muscles from exertion in the battle, your bones from just how violently the eleventh decided to throw you around. You felt stupid for trusting that it'd just be a friendly sparring session, even stupider for thinking you could defeat him just because you were the seconds bodyguard.
You were desperate, you rationalize as you stumble back to the seconds lab. Your job felt far grander then you did, you knew very well you didn't match the seconds strength, and part of you, a part full of worries silenced by mental reassurances, knew that a bodyguard weaker then their ward was of no use to anyone.
It was stupid, even if you were underqualified for this position, you should just accept the pay with easy work. He never expects you to do much, just stand nearby.
But.. it just felt wrong.
This was all you had. You weren't the smartest, all your years in this world told you that for certain, all you had was pure strength. And now? The position you hold that relies on pure strength? You're not strong enough for it. And it felt like everyone knew that except for you, like a cruel surprise, or prank where everyone is just waiting for you to get the hint.
All you clearly remember from the fight, beside the pain you received, was the elevenths disappointment. He was so excited beforehand, forgoing his promise to hold back the second you gained the upper hand, and all that faded when he so easily defeated you. Watching you struggle to stand, bloodied and injured to the point of collapse. Your greatest achievement in that fight was just having the strength to crawl away without passing out.
He was so sure you'd be a worthy fight, that you must be if the illusive and eccentric second harbinger hired you as security, that the brand of an earring he ripped off in the heat of battle was a sign of greatness. That same earring was now stained red with blood, dampening the blue glow it always had. You clutched it tightly in your hand, unwilling to leave it behind. Your knuckles were white from the pressure, and idly you wondered how it hadn't cracked and shattered yet.
If the seconds bodyguard can't even defeat the weakest harbinger... Then what use do you even have? What do you do now with that knowledge? Each step hurt even with your thoughts distracting you in a frenzy, all you could think of was how you failed, and how pathetic you were for trying.
"And where, exactly, have you been?"
That voice snapped your thoughts in two, interrupting your spiral with that slight lilt you were familiar with. The doctor didn't even sound annoyed, or disappointed like you imagined he would once he inevitably saw your beaten form. Instead his voice contained a hint of curiosity, like this wasn't a leading question and he was genuinely wondering. You almost wish he was disappointed, because at least then you knew what to expect. Was it worse knowing you'd be punished for leaving your post, or not knowing at all what could happen to you next?
You didn't want to turn around and look, you could only assume he was behind you, the ringing in your ears made it hard for you to tell where he was. And your vision, hindered due to a nasty blow to your face you couldn't dodge, didn't reveal him to be anywhere in front of you.
"...training."
You mumbled, jaw sore as it opened, even with how carefully and slowly you forced the words out. You're evidently not convincing enough, as he clicks his tongue and starts approaching. You can barely hear his footsteps, if you didn't know any better you might mistake him for miles away.
Which is exactly why it's a startle when you blink and he's suddenly in front of you.
You want to flinch back, but your body immediately disagrees, aching in pain that causes you to clench your teeth and crumble against the wall, earning you an amused hum, a tilt of his head as he peered closer without care for the distance you tried to create.
"I thought you'd have learnt to lie better by now. If you're so intent on hiding the truth, at least make it interesting."
He leaned down, hand snaking out to grab your chin and force you to look at him instead of the floor. Your vision swam as you struggled to focus on his mask, you so desperately wish you still had yours, but it was knocked aside in the fight and it wasn't lucky enough to be grabbed in your daze.
"Though... The fact that you're so intent on lying right now is fascinating in its own right. Tell me, dear guard, is what happened truly such a crime that you'd try to lie in this state just to cover it up?"
He isn't idle at all while he talks, though you're very used to him being animated when something catches his eye, this is different. Instead of wild gestures and circling movements, his hands move with intent and focus. One kept firmly on your chin, pinching if your eyes close just a bit too long for a blink. The other dances across your face, testing by touching this bruise or that cut, seeing the way you flinch as he pushes and causes more blood to drip down your face.
It's a struggle to respond to his onslaught of words, usually you have enough composure to try and find stable ground in his monologues, but right now every word just seems to fly past you, in one ear and out the other. He tilts his head at your prolonged silence, shaking your head slightly as if to make sure you're still aware. All it earns him is a groan of pain as your head spins from the movement
"L..lord harbinger... Stop-"
"Only if you tell me. It wouldn't do to fix you up for free, not without something in compensation. I'll even take a lie, if you can manage to think of another one, that is."
You can't hear any malicious intent in his voice, no jeering or ire, his voice sounds the same as it ever does when he's interacting with an experiment. This is the same voice you've strained your ears to hear behind closed doors, the same voice you've tried to understand when it's calmly reciting various factors and variables. You didn't realize exactly how it would feel directed at you like this, or maybe it was always directed at you, but it took a large hit to the head to realize it.
"It... It was lord tartaglia- he... He wanted to spar, said... Said he'd go easy on me."
You felt pathetic, couldn't you handle a little pain in front of your boss? You were doing so well, pushing through it, but almost as soon as he appeared your body just gave up. Unwilling to keep struggling or pushing forward once it was stopped. Your voice sounded so weak, so pathetic, he should hate this, be disappointed that you ran off, tsk about how useless you are. But instead, he...
"Ah, of course. It seems I've made a mistake in my experiment. I've been too careless if he managed to find you."
Was he.. blaming himself? You felt so confused, where was the disappointed glare? or the stern punishment? Memories of training gone wrong in your youth flash before your eyes, teachers disappointed by your failings, by your inability to understand, there was never any grace then, so why now? Why with a man who rumours say would respond worse to lesser crimes?
His hand moves from holding your chin up to stroking it, jolting you out of your thoughts as he gently caresses your face in response to your confused expression. You flinch slightly as his finger brushes the edge of your ear, torn and bleeding from the elevenths dirty trick. He only coos in response and gently strokes the base of your ear.
"How fascinating, I hadn't anticipated this reaction... I suppose something good came from my slip after all, I doubt I'd see this without his help. That doesn't mean I'll let him interfere with this experiment so easily next time, mind you."
"Wh... What experiment..?"
He chuckles at that, a soft, almost warm sound that envelops you whole, you almost feel your body relax at the sound of it, your tense muscles expecting punishment or rejection are instead met with this... Warmth. He's not even mad, why isn't he mad?
"Haven't you learned not to fret about such things? I suppose I can't blame you for forgetting, your poor brain must be rattled inside that skull of yours."
You're left dumbfounded as he talks, his hand finds a spot on your head, seemingly patting it in a gesture your confused mind finds soothing, more oblivious to how his fingers dig a bit deeper than needed to check for any bumps or other damage he can't spot. You fight the urge to close your eyes at the touch, his entire demeanor contradicts everything you were expecting to happen, everything you are used to happening whenever you fail.
"He must have thrown you around quite roughly. Oh, but look at how you respond to something soft afterwards.. I wonder if this is because of your injuries, or perhaps you've always yearned for this kind of... Acceptance."
You don't understand what he's cooing about, a gentle laugh carries itself in his words, going from his calm and usual voice to something intentionally soft and light. It almost reminds you of how you'd coo at birds on your walks to work, voice higher and gentle as you awed over how cute they were. Is this how they felt, you wonder, hearing something said softly but not understanding a word of it?
You don't get the time to question his approach, as in one quick motion, he goes from examining your face to picking you up. Hand tucking underneath your knees while the other supports your back, your side against his chest. You want to panic, be scared of where he's taking you, you really should be. But, instead your body easily slides into place.
Your head just falls down against his shoulder, even if your mind reels, your body takes his words to heart, almost trusting him completely. The fact that he ensures his hold doesn't brush against any injuries doesn't help, every time you wince or flinch he stops and adjusts his hold. If he notices how limp you've become now, he doesn't mention it. Instead the quiet walk somewhere else is only interrupted by him occasionally shaking you when your eyes close for a bit too long, a quiet muttering of "be patient, stay awake for me." That only barely tides your exhausted body over.
You can barely tell when you arrive, one minute you blink, and the next you're shaken and placed down on something cold and hard. Your hands shake as they reach down, shivering as you lean against cold metal to stay upright. Oh, you idly realize, you're on an examination table, this is one of the rooms in the lab.
You can't tell if it's one you're familiar with, the same white walls you remember from brief glimpses into his work blend against each other. You guess it's probably a way to confuse test subjects looking to map a way out, it's certainly working now, you have no idea where you are in his lab. That feels ironic, that even his personal guard can easily get lost, you choose to blame it on the pain in your skull and not on your own lack of skills.
Its easier to try and stay awake now that you're sitting, the warmth he provided with his body slowly fading as you faintly hear clings and clangs of metal, drawers opening and something sliding on hard floors- oh, it's one of those... Medical trays? You didn't know if they had a proper name, but you could see the doctor preparing various items on one and then pulling it over to your side.
"Now, I'll need to check for anything serious. Childe is a fool, but he's not foolish enough to damage what is mine. Not to an extent I can't fix, anyway."
He stops for a moment, stilling as he examines your body with his hidden eyes, after a moment of silence his hand reaches out, grasping your own that's still tightly clutching your earring despite your waning strength.
"What do you have there? Come now, show your Doctor."
He coaxes your fingers open, cooing softly at you like one might try to convince a dog to eat a treat that has medicine hidden inside, and slowly but surely you let go. Hand aching from released pressure, and his cold touch gently against your palm as he collects the earring. He regards it for a second, turning it to see the blood spilled on it, his only response is a pleased hum, a smile gracing his lips as he places it on the tray without a glance.
"Try to stay awake, I need to understand exactly where everything is damaged first. Don't worry, I promise I'll be gentle this time."
He keeps talking like that once he starts examining you, his voice a soothing melody of white noise as his hands move over your body, plain facts and observations mixed with praise for staying still, or for moving slightly so he can get a better look. He goes slowly, at least you think this is slow. He cautiously presses various spots that seem random to you, checking for internal damage maybe? You wished your brain was cooperative enough to let you learn more medical procedures, maybe then you'd know what he was doing. Maybe then you wouldn't have ended up in this situation in the first place.
You can't keep up with what he's saying, you can faintly hear him talking about bruises, something about infection needing to be checked and surgery? You hoped he was talking about you not needing it, you couldn't help but recall rumours about his assistants, or well, past assistants. You'd heard a lot from before you got promoted to personal bodyguard, back when you used to guard the outermost doors to his lab.
You had disregarded them as just rumours, he was distant, sure, but he was polite at the same time, charming almost. When you slipped in your duties by zoning out, he never really overreacted or seemed too displeased, you could never imagine someone who acted like that to be able to turn around and do horrific, violent acts against his own assistants for a minor flub. But... Now that you're here, now that you've messed up badly, your mind can't help but wonder if you're going to be next.
"Very good. Now, I'm going to check-"
"Doctor...?"
You really didn't want to interrupt him, you hated doing that, if you weren't next you probably would be now, so often you'd hear it was a great sign of disrespect to interrupt someone, even if you didn't understand or had a question. You expect him to keep going, but he doesn't react how people in your past often react to such an interruption, instead of scoffing and telling you to shut up, or, in his unique case, finishing what he often starts by ending your life, he stops. Silence lingers as his hands still against your body, his head peers up at your unmasked face. Watching, waiting, his mouth a line revealing neither disappointment nor pride.
"Do you have something to say? Or is the pain too much for you? It'll be over soon, just endure for a bit longer for me."
"...why... Why do you keep me around...?"
The room goes silent. You can't even hear him breathing, your own shaky breath and your blood rushing through your ears is all you hear. He stills beneath you, you can't really tell what expression he's making, that mask hiding everything underneath it, every vulnerability, every slip. You wish you still had yours, you can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, not to mention how pathetic you sound.
"Do-"
And then he moves all too fast, one hand is quickly on your face, holding it up as the other grabs something off of the tray nearby. You don't get to see what it is, as a bright light shines into your eye seconds later. You flinch, the sudden brightness hurts but he doesn't let you pull back, when you try to close your eyes he simply adjusts his hold to force them open again.
"Lord harbinger-!"
You squirm under his hold but he doesn't relent, not stopping as your pupils swerve left and right as the light shines against them. When he finally seems satisfied with what he's seen, he pulls back. You don't see what he does next, immediately covering your eyes only to be met with that same searing brightness burned into them. Your groan of pain seems to shake him out of this focused, silent state, a curious hum coming from him as his hands slowly return to your face. Gently holding your hands clinging over your eyes.
"Ah, forgive me. With a question like that, I simply had to check for a concussion. Luckily for you, it's not bad enough to prolong your recovery."
And just like that he moves on, entirely ignoring your question as he moves to check your legs. Leaning down as his focus moves away and you slowly uncover your eyes. He doesn't mention the sudden shift, the slip of something firm at the question that is quickly hidden by soft touches and a calmer voice, but you can't let it go so easily.
"I.. I'm not concussed-"
"Debatable."
He says it with a slight laugh, a smile that tells you he isn't taking this seriously.
"Lord harbinger, I mean it. Why... Why am I here?"
He doesn't seem too pleased with your insistence, always hard to tell with that mask and now with the way your head spins. Maybe he was right about that concussion, but you didn't want to drop it. You're not the smartest, but you know he is, surely he would know before you did that you weren't strong enough, surely he would have noticed before your hubris got you knocked into the ocean to drown?
"I'm.. I'm not strong enough to beat the eleventh, I can beat usual intruders, sure, but... My job is to protect you, and i can't fight on your level. If someone strong wanted you dead, the only way I could protect you is by just taking the hit and dying instead-"
Before the tears in your eyes can fall, he's moved himself up right into your space, a hand rests firmly on your shoulder, that masked face inches below your own as his other hand rests on your face. You expect backlash, immediate rage at assuming his intentions, or at least mockery for how quickly you started tearing up, but instead, his hand gently rubs a bruise on your cheek.
"Is that truly what you think? And here I was, thinking that you would be rejecting a monster, begging to be let free. No, you're simply afraid of it rejecting you. How naive."
He speaks fondly, a slight chuckle at the end of his words as he calls you naive, it's supposed to be an insult you think, but he says it in a way that makes you think he finds it humorous, like a dog who keeps pawing at the wrong hand for a treat.
"Wh...what?"
He smiles and pinches your cheek, for some reason it hurts in your shoulder as he does that, a tingly feeling spreads throughout your body. It feels harder to hold your head up as he suddenly stands, but you can't bring your body to flinch at the movement, instead it sways, unsteady and unfocused as he pulls back and you see he's holding a syringe, when did he get that? Was it always... Empty?
He moves his hand away, and you hear a faint clatter against metal before everything seems to collapse. You fall forward and he instantly moves to collects you in his arms, tightly holding you close in a hug like gesture as everything starts to go dark.
"I suppose a sedative might have been overkill, considering your condition. Oh, don't fret, I'll be sure to make it up to you later."
The warmth is the last thing your mind clings to as something soft and calm washes over you, distantly, you think you hear a voice, but you're far too tired to listen, closing your eyes instead and letting warm arms support your weight.
"I'll start by making sure you truly understand your importance in this experiment.. omega, prep surgery room 3 for-"