A Hypothetical Question
Disclaimer: Don't own Reanimator. Own jug of whiskey and two watermelons.
Herbert West turned and looked at him severely. "What?"
Dan fidgeted, doing useless things with the tools in his hands. He regretted even thinking the question at all. He could hardly believe he'd had the gall to ask Herbert, especially now when that bone saw was glinting so steely and sharp in his right hand.
"I-I said-" Dan faltered.
"I heard what you said." Herbert snapped. "I was asking what you meant by your little query."
He quailed under Herbert's magnified gaze, sentimentally framed by large squares of black plastic that had gone out of vogue nearly fifteen years beforehand. The nosepiece bore the brunt of the long-term damage, the glasses were fairly riddled with scotch tape.
"Wh-what I…what I meant?"
"Don't play coy with me." Herbert's latex-sheathed hand creaked into a fist. "What on earth did you mean by that ludicrous statement?"
"I-it was just a question…" came Dan's feeble response. He had no clue what had possessed him to ask the question, or what drove him on despite the unspoken threat of bodily dismemberment.
"No, Dan, it was not just a question. That was a very serious accusation you threw out-"
"Herbert, I'm not accusing anyone-"
"-and I would like clarification." Herbert finished, speaking over Dan and glaring coldly.
Had the basement always been so small?
"I-it's just…" his hands, devoid of their distractions, crept up his stomach and wrung his shirt. He stopped immediately upon noticing, remembering all too well a similar pair of organs unattached to a body doing the same.
"Yes…" Herbert prompted, the harsh light of the single bulb throwing his eyes into shadow.
"I-I…I was wondering…we've been together for so long and…you've never…I mean…the girls I bring home-" Herbert held up his hand.
"Just because I don't have the same interests in floozies that you do-"
"That's not it!" Dan blurted before he could stop himself. Herbert glared imperiously at the interruption.
"I-i-it's not. It's more than that. I mean, none of it's too obvious, it took me a long time to notice, but a lot of little things-"
"Subtle signs, you mean." Herbert intoned, no longer glaring. Dan let out a miniscule puff of relief. Herbert's curiosity had been piqued. Now, if he could keep him listening.
"Well, its more than just the…just the women. But it's kind of about the women, you know?"
"I'm afraid I don't." the shadows cast on Herbert's face made it impossible to tell his opinion, his voice monotone and neutral.
"And…well, you don't treat me like other people."
The end of the sentence echoed in the basement. He could make out the minute hairs on Herbert's throat that in another man might be called stubble. The silence was almost alive.
"It's that…you and I have been together a long time."
"I need you Dan." The response could have been either reassuring or mocking. The reverberation in the cement-walled basement was too great for him to tell which.
"That's…that's the thing I mean. You say you need me…"
"I wasn't aware I meant anything by it, Dan."
"I know, I know, but…if there was something…more…"
"Oh." A flash of realization came over Herbert's face, like he had discovered a leak in a crucial tube. "Something more."
"Yes, if it was…if it was like that. Hypothetically."
"Hypothetically." Herbert agreed.
"What would you…how would…" he let the sentence trail off into the air, looking cautiously at Herbert.
He turned to the table, deep in thought. Dan was glad Herbert was seriously considering his question, but he wished he wouldn't squish preserved organs in his hands while he did, the sound was disconcerting.
"I would…I would keep you with me." That said, he turned back to his work.
Dan waited a few minutes, in case he missed the punch line. Herbert fondled the cold guts of their latest acquisition.
After what felt like an eternity, Dan cleared his throat. Herbert looked at him with theatrically trained expectation. He could set up entire conversations like an expert vaudevillian subtly crafting a joke; every line in place.
"Just…keep me? That's all."
"That's the gist of it, yes." Herbert turned back to his work again.
"Well could you give me the detailed version?" Dan's voiced drew him back. He sighed and made a motion to clean his glasses, remembering at the last minute what he was covered in. He frowned at his hands and grabbed a paper towel, scrubbing vigorously.
"I would keep you, Dan, by my side. Even if the army finally got details of our whereabouts, or a few south American drugs lords, even after we are recognized by the scientific community for our monumental achievements; I would keep you to work with, because a scientist's work is never done."
"Well that's-"
"You would stay with me, even if all our best-laid plans somehow went awry and we were forced to flee until the end of our days, even if the walking dead tore apart the house in the middle of the night looking for us, even if the authorities came to drag me away to shut me up in some mental hellhole and throw you in prison for criminal negligence; they would have to pry my fingers from your arm."
"Uh-"
"Even if I didn't live to see…even death." Herbert finished with an oddly triumphant sort of look.
Herbert and Dan looked at each other for a while. That is to say, Dan looked at Herbert. Herbert was looking where he always looked, even while elbow-deep in surgery: the far horizon. Dan knew him well enough to know he never took his eyes off it long enough to see something closer, even Dan. Even himself.
But he could at least feel Dan near him, and for now, that was enough.
"Thank you." He said. "For answering my question."
"No problem." Herbert immediately turned back to the table, plucking and fine-tuning the delicate machinery of the human body. Dan watched him for a moment, smiling self-consciously, before turning to resume his own clumsier, yet no less important, work.
Author's note: What is there to say? This appeared in my head one night and I knew I had to get it out right away, or it would ferment into something else. As for the question…well, I'll leave that up to you. I love leaving my audiences dangling.