Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your arrival in the underground had gone unnoticed, unremarked, and for a long time, you had thought yourself to be totally alone. 

You'd been picking through the local dump with your friends on the surface, scavenging for loose engine bits and parts to fix up your older brother's clunker of a car. He'd claimed that if you all could help him get it running again, he'd be happy to teach you all to drive it. Well, you'd found your car parts. You'd also found a hole, far too late to do anything but trip right into it.

When you'd woken up from your fall, you had been lying on a heap of trash bags and rejected mattresses, staring right at the jagged edge of a spring that could have easily run you through had you just landed a few inches to the right. You'd cried then, more from shock than pain, and then stared up at that little patch of sunlight far, far above you long enough for it to vanish as night swallowed it up. 

You'd wanted to panic, but with no phone and no way to call for help, you knew your energy would be better spent elsewhere. No one would expect you to be alive after a fall from that height; you'd be lucky if they found your hole in the junkyard at all. It was a horribly rational thought and you felt just as horrible thinking it, knowing that you were now well and truly on your own.

Your experience those first few weeks could perhaps be summed up in a series of lessons. 

Lesson one: people don't like to be around trash for very long. You, being 'people', agreed with that. 

You had managed to scrape together something of a shelter from an overturned refrigerator and some mattress stuffing, which was enough to keep the constant dripping out, but the underground dump was humid, smelly, and breathing there felt like you were constantly heaving in oil and rot. You waited by that slim patch of sun for hours each day, straining your eyes and ears for signs of human presence, but nobody came.

Wandering further afield brought you to mountains of litter, junk, and debris made up of all sorts of things in various states of disrepair. Scavenging brought you food, sometimes clean water or bottles of soda, but it was an inefficient and dangerous method of survival. More than once you'd found some container of beef jerky or peanuts buried under something else and upon trying to pull it free, the whole mountain atop your find would collapse. 

You'd pause every time, stifling your panic and waiting for someone to come see what the commotion was about, but again- nobody came. So you'd just dig out your prize and go back 'home' to stuff your face and stare at the light some more.

It was miserable. You so, so badly wanted to be home, back with your mother and your father and your big brother, getting into trouble only to hop right back out again. Life aboveground didn't smell. It didn't leave you shaking with cold when the water that flowed through the dump soaked up into your bedding at night.

You wanted out and nobody else dropped by your little slice of hell, so you supposed everyone else who wandered into your territory wanted out just as badly too.

Days passed.

And still, you were alone. The next lesson came all the faster for it.

Lesson two: survival sucked. You sucked it up. 

Of the things that found their way into the underground dump, the vast majority weren't edible. If you looked for ten minutes, you could usually find something to wear. Twenty, and you could find something electronic with enough parts to it to maybe be fixable. But food? Finding enough for a full, balanced meal took hours and hours.

Your usual meal looked a bit like chips, crackers, or cookies, with some dried meat or fruit if you were lucky. Dairy was unheard of. Vegetables, too, were in short supply, as most were rotten through by the time they found their way to your hands. Week two had you desperate, though, so with careful cutting and a camp stove made of sheet metal and a car battery, you could pretend to make stir-fry. Enough crushed peanuts and olive oil could make even terrible vegetables palatable. 

You missed yogurt.

Water was... an experience. The flood waters that constantly lapped at your ankles in the dump was unsafe to drink at best, often full of oil or toxins at worst. Even the clearer patches at the edge of the garbage dump seemed to glow an unsettling blue, a shade that had you worried about fun things like 'radiation' and 'secret nuclear testing grounds'.

You'd read "Hatchet" of course, and "My Side of the Mountain", and "Where's Wally?" You could be creative, be patient.

An empty cup set into a metal bowl of water, placed over an open flame. With a bit of tinfoil to make a tent over the set-up, you had something to purify water with. Dehydration was no longer a fear... but worry persisted, and slowly consumed. 

You had what you needed to get by, but it was never quite enough. When gathering all you could, there was always an itch for more, even when there wasn't anything more to find.

In time, as weeks blurred together in a haze of routine, your wrists thinned, your hair grew limp, and the you who built shelters and repaired radios was replaced with one too focused on their stomach to think. You hated it. You were starving.

And while fresh fruit and clean water was always on your mind, rationing beaten into you by weather and circumstance, you gained a hunger for far more than food.

As lesson three emphasized: you were alone.

For an hour every day, timed by your grandfather's tritium watch- which had miraculously survived your fall- you watched the sun. It was the one thing you allowed yourself each day not related to survival. Sometimes you'd bring along a broken toy, or a shattered bit of technology to attempt repairs on while you gazed up at the hole you'd fallen through, waiting for help you wouldn't come. Other times, you'd sleep, an occurrence that had been getting more and more common as existence wore you out.

It was on one such sleepy, do-nothing afternoon that you first learned of the creatures you'd come to know as 'monsters'.

———

The underground dump was never silent. Water rushed and gurgled as it flowed its way through the piles of trash, which shifted and groaned as more debris got deposited or carried away. The stone walls of the cavern around you trapped the noises, making them echo until things like direction and volume lost meaning.

So, was it any wonder that when you first heard the crash, you thought it was but another echo? You had merely blinked, shifting to be more settled under the hole in the ceiling in case a cave-in was imminent. Then, the voice- a scream.

It was like a shock to your system and you ran.

The crash, the shriek, both were sharp and sudden but the lingering echo was a dull roar, like the sound of the car screaming down the highway. It was enough to give you a general direction, but it still took far, far too long to find the source of the noise.

The pile of trash that had fallen over was one of the largest in the dump, full of kitchen appliances and yard tools. It had been a useful source of tools (most people didn't throw away things like hammers) but you'd always been careful when scavenging, wary about the weight involved. It seems like you had every right to be concerned- something had slipped, and brought the whole pile down with it.

Under the bulk of an old freezer lay a writhing form that you barely recognized as a body.

Two arms. One eye. Presumably two legs, but both were trapped under the appliance, as was half a fuzzy purple torso. The flat, round face that turned to you with an expression of fear had a mouth full of teeth that put you in mind of an old Wooley song; purple people eaters indeed. When that big, green eye caught sight of you, the screaming began anew.

"A- ah- A huma- ahaha- A human!" The form lunged forward at you, eye bright and wild with pain as the creature adamantly did not move. A silvery-grey powder began to collect at the corners of their mouth as they screeched again.

"Stay the fuck away from me! Go away! Go away!" Their words curdled into something of a warbling gasp as you edged forward, terror thick and hot in the back of your throat.

"What... What are you?" It's all you could force out, still staring at the creature. Your hands trembled and shook at your sides.

"I'm dyin', ya filthy human bitch. And y'ain't gettin' my soul, I'll fuckin' KILL you, see, jus'. Jussss' fuckin' see..." More of the creature's body was melting away into powder, the tips of their fingers and whatever remained of their legs dissolving away in the current. You weren't sure how to respond to this, torn between answering the plea in that big green eye and leaving as requested.

This was death. You'd never seen someone die before.

"Can I help?" you managed, again edging forward. "Please, you're hurt."

"I'm dyin'. An' I don't want ya here." With these last, gasped words, the creature tilted their head up as far as they could manage to summon what looked to be a tiny white star. It fluttered above their head for a moment before your world went black and white, a flash of pale blue at the center of your vision. As if that was the star's cue, it launched itself right at the blue smear before you could even tell what was happening.

It hurt. It was invasive, cold, painful- and damage done, the creature slumped into the water to dissolve away into a sodden white paste.

You Won! You Gained 10 EXP And 0 Gold!

You - - ATK: 2.  DEF: 4.   LV: 2.

You Feel Sick.

Color bled back into your world as you stumbled forward those last few steps, collapsing to your knees with a splash. The pile of garbage groaned ominously as you pushed at the broken freezer, but you cared for little beyond trying to gather up as much of the dust as you could.

What... What was that? And- dust? One moment it was a person, a creature who could talk, could answer questions, the next it had pulled you into some sort of mirror dimension, had attacked you, then died! Was the dust its body? If you gathered it all up, would the creature come back?

You felt numb with horror as your hands moved beyond your control, scraping up mud-grey slurry and off-white powder into the tail of your shirt. Then, done with your work, you stared for a long moment before going 'home'.

The creature didn't come back, despite your best efforts. You even went so far as to hang your shirt over a campfire to dry out the dust before pouring the remains into an empty soup can. After several days of waiting, questions haunting you all the while, you eventually settled for burying the can in the heap of mattresses that marked where you first fell into the underground junkyard. 

Your mind still did not let you rest.

Where did the creature come from? Were there more out there? It knew what a human was, so were there more humans in the caverns? Why were they so scared of you?

That creature, whatever it was, it could talk. It could have helped you. You could have helped them! And- and this hurt the most- they had preferred to die than speak with you.

Because you were a human.

(It made you feel like a monster.)

For the first time in a long time, you went out of your way to find a mirror. The face that greeted you in the polished brass sheet you settled on was not one that you recognized. Your hair was longer than you liked it to be, matted and filthy for lack of soap. Grime crept up your thinning jaw, and traces of blood lingered on your limbs from the times you tripped and fell while scavenging. 

A few neat scars had even begun to form on your hands, forearms, feet, and ankles- all the places your clothes weren't enough to protect you.

You hurt. You hurt. And with seeing yourself, seeing a human who was not 'you' in your reflection, that longing to speak to someone, anyone, came flooding back.

If you looked like yourself again, would the creature have been so scared of you? What if you stopped looking like yourself altogether? The ache of the thought was just one more pain among many, but the idea held merit, you decided.

If one creature could come to the dump, others could. If one could speak, then more could speak. If you just spoke, looked, acted right, you could ask questions, get answers, beg for help.

Maybe you could go home.

You decided to retreat to your shelter, wait, and... experiment.

———

The equation of spending time on looking for your next meal versus putting together an adequate disguise was not one that was easily balanced.

Too little effort and your disguise wouldn't hold up, too much and you would be too weak to run should things go poorly.

Eventually you settled on a compromise: you would build up a costume from materials in the dump but you wouldn't sew a single stitch to do so. With this thought in mind, you began to look for bits that you could adapt to your purposes. Defense was a nice thought, but freedom of movement and accuracy were far more important. As such, while you rather liked the idea of hooded cloaks and gloves, you knew better than to think that you wouldn't get caught on things or struggle with zippers.

The final outfit looked vaguely bug-like. Your favorite part consisted of a thick oriental rug in brown and white (with a rusty red stain you tried to ignore) that you wrapped into something between a shawl and a cone. This “shell” was shaped a bit like a shield bug's carapace and the bell-like flare to it allowed for your arms to move freely in the wide space underneath. A sharp piece of metal threaded in and out of the edges held it closed, a slight bend to your rule of no sewing, and you had taken the chance to weave other pieces of useful metal into the fabric in the process. In a pinch, you would have all the wire, nails, and rebar you could need.

The rest of your outfit was of a similar theme: baggy beyond all belief so you would have plenty of wiggle room and an easy time slipping in and out of it. A pair of black rubber waders and a burlap sack over your head neatly covered what skin remained and acted as added protection. By putting the waders and sack on first, then the tough shell after, the heavy material made it hard for the other pieces of your disguise to be removed. A few holes cut into the sack for your eyes and mouth, then some red sunglasses (with a crack in one lens) later, and you looked like a giant bipedal beetle.

The last touch was your watch, which you kept on your right wrist.

You looked yourself over in the reflective brass sheet, jumping up and down to test your maneuverability, then bowing forward and back as if you were practicing one of those fitness routines on TV. The red lenses of your glasses stared intently back at you as you nodded. The disguise wasn't perfect, but you didn't look human anymore, so you chalked your efforts up as a success. The only thing was...

You crouched low on the balls of your feet. The edge of your shell hit the ground long before you had finished the move, your head shrinking down into the fabric like a turtle. You paused, considering, entrenched in your little cloth pyramid. You pressed a hand to the inside, noting how firm the material was.

Would this work as a temporary bunker? Maybe. You also couldn't reach out of your shell either. If you wanted to grab anything, it'd have to be done by reaching out from either the neck hole or the bottom of your shell, which you'd rather avoid if possible. Arms coming out of strange places wasn't a human trait, but you weren't sure if it was a trait shared by any creatures either. Troubling!

But, ultimately unimportant. You could run if you had to, you didn't look like yourself anymore, and you definitely could take a hit or two. It was time to see if your disguise would work- and for that, you needed a creature.

As luck would have it, you didn't have long to wait. Time was strange for you underground as the only indicator of time passing was the little slice of sunlight that poured into your corner of the dump. Even then, you only spent an hour or three each day there, so often were you scavenging, so "morning" versus "evening" was all you really had to go on. The number of sleeping periods since your fall was your most accurate marker of time, and it took about 4 since your costume's finishing for a creature to come along.

You'd been ducked down in a pile of pipe bits, trying to find something you could turn into a (clean) water-tight container, when the sound of wingbeats got your attention. Peeking up from the neck of your shell, you could make out a tiny creature hovering above a pile of tin cans with a thoughtful look on its face. The blue creature was about two feet tall with spindly arms, legs, and antennae, two beady black eyes, and a pair of wings that seemed to defy physics in order to keep the creature aloft.

It seemed harmless. Maybe. But even if it wasn't, it was still a person. Time to shoot your shot.

"A-ah, hello?" Innocuous enough, right?

The creature shrieked, spinning in the air to fire a white butterfly at your position. You immediately ducked back into your shell to let the fabric take the force of the blow.

"D-don't! Scare me like that! I d-didn't see you there, eesh." A long pause, then a gentle nudge to your shelter urged you to peek your head out again. The little creature was now flying about a foot away from your face, its expression rather contrite, if still a little fearful. The creature looked into the cracked red glass of your stare, then blinked. "Are you okay? I hit you pretty hard."

"I am. Are- are you okay?" was all you could muster in response.

"Yes, I am. What were you doing, hiding there? Not many monsters visit the dump unless they're looking for something specific. Do you need help finding something?" Okay, your disguise was definitely working if the- 'monster' was it?- was talking to you like this.

"I'm looking for a piece of pipe I could use for a project," is how you decided to respond, choosing to be diplomatic rather than to start screaming about looking for a way out. The fact that you were talking to someone was intoxicating and it was bringing all your latent worries and questions to the surface. "And yourself? Who are you anyway, what are you looking for?"

The monster introduced themself as a whimsun, one of many who lived in a place called 'New Home', which was apparently different from a place called 'Home' and much nicer besides, if a bit cramped. They had been looking for some metal to use to make a set of armor, as they were intent on becoming a whimsalot, a sort of guard with advanced training and a 'soul of steel'.

"Of course, being a guard these days means little without any humans about. Mostly the job's about keeping the peace, but I think the slow pace would be good for me. I'm not brave enough to fight a human just yet," the whimsun had joked a little sheepishly. You had to literally bite your tongue to keep your questions to yourself, but it made you glad that you'd been so thorough with your disguise.

It took a lot of probing and you'd had to help the whimsun with their metal collecting to distract them from your cluelessness, but soon you had enough gossip to put together a picture of the Underground and its history. Five out of the seven human souls for the barrier were in King Asgore's custody, with the supposed fifth having turned up mysteriously in Waterfall some months prior. Large swathes of Waterfall were still under heavy watch from the Royal Guard, which was why your little corner of the Underground was so empty. 

You weren't sure how you felt about the revelation that humans had attempted genocide on the monsters of old. You cared little for the drama of your fellow man but the thought that this cruelty against the monsters had both happened and had been wiped from history left a foul taste in your mouth.

The existence of the Barrier also had you biting your tongue; the urge to burst into hysterical laughter was strong. Of course you were trapped down here, why wouldn't your luck leave you in the lurch? Surface life was apparently too good to you for too long, it was about time that fate decided to kick you in the shins. Having people you wanted to go back to was only the cherry atop the shit sundae that was your life.

You got very quiet after that. The whimsun, picking up on this, had left you to your thoughts soon after. 

And once again, you were alone.

———

In the following weeks, life continued to kick you while you were down. A period of warm, dry weather- summer, you thought- meant that little new garbage fell into the dump, leaving you with less to eat than usual. Your disguise was hot and made the humid weather of Waterfall even more unbearable, but it did protect you from mosquitoes, though their existence in the Underground was an unpleasant surprise. Apparently even monsters could get bug bites, who knew?

A few more monsters did stumble into your patch of dump, but most had little interest in talking to you. Those that did were offput by your insistence on greeting them without an 'encounter', a standard form of getting to know a stranger. One tried to reassure you that they'd like your 'bullet patterns' no matter what they were, but you declined anyway. Hurting their feelings had felt awful.

Whimsun had explained to you about common etiquette of the Underground, but you knew that getting into encounters with other monsters was a one way ticket to Asgore, your cyan soul- a 'patient' trait- marking you out as a human. So, rudeness was all you were left with. It netted you few friends and on the latest occasion, you'd been the target of a proper attack courtesy of a woshua who had taken offense to your everything.

You still hurt. In fact, you hurt more than usual, your bones aching in your skin as you stretched out on a damp mattress under your little patch of sunlight. You honestly couldn't say how long you'd been trapped underground but you could feel the effects of your stay clinging to you like a second skin.

No, wait, that was just the soggy burlap of your mask.

A pang in your stomach and you rolled over, shoving your face into the squish beneath you to sulk at your body's unwelcome reminder that you had yet to eat that day. Could anything go right today?

"My my, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle!" That was a voice. That was definitely a voice.

You lurched to your feet, wavering for a moment as you spun around to catch sight of your visitor. The monster in question was a short fellow, a birdlike creature about two-thirds your height with a purple raincoat and a black plague doctor's mask that... seemed to be on fire? Two white eye-lights blinked up at you from behind the dark grey lenses of his mask.

Monsters were weird.

As you stared at the monster, the fellow stared back at you, the tilt to his head implying a smile. Realizing he was waiting for a response, you muttered a reluctant, "Yeah. Today's been sort of terrible."

"I'd say more than just today," he shot back. You bristled at that. He wasn't wrong, of course, but you still rankled at getting called out. You'd been trying your best, it's not your fault you looked homeless- you kind of were.

"What about it," you gruffed out eventually. The monster just waved his hand and with a flash, your world bleached itself of color, signaling the start of an encounter. Your soul hovered in front of your chest, the bright blue stark against the black and white. Shit.

"Now don't look at me like that," the monster huffed, crossing his arms with what you assumed is a pout. The flames around his head flickered at the motion. "I know plenty about you already and whatever hang-ups you have about encounters, I promise this is quite safe. This is just to keep you from running off on me." The monster CHECKed you, giving you a careful eye-over as he absorbed whatever new information he'd discovered.

You paused for a long moment, assessing your options, before CHECKing him back.

* THE DOCTOR -- ATK 0. DEF 6.

* KEEPS TO HIS OATHS.

That seemed ominous. At least you had his name now.

The Doctor's next move was an attack. Another wave of his hand and an out-pouring of green sparks flitted across the battlefield, carried by a non-existent wind. You braced as best as you could, preparing for pain, but to your surprise, the magic swept right through you to leave a pleasant tingling in its wake. You stood up from your slight crouch, arms loose at your sides underneath your shawl as you considered what to do next. For the Doctor's part, he just seemed smug.

"Green magic heals. It's my specialty, you see? In fact, I'm incapable of anything else! Stand there and ACT or FIGHT as you like, neither of us will be leaving this encounter with a single scratch!" Huh. Okay, that did make things a little better. Just to test him, you chose to ACT, calling out-

"You're a stalker and a weenie!" Okay, insulting him was a bit low, but you were curious. If he couldn't take you at your most gross and abrasive, then you'd remain lonely, miserable, and utterly correct to be wary of him and strangers like him.

He chose ACT too, calling back, "I like the grunge! Homeless is the new cool!" Okay, that sounded like a compliment but was very definitely an insult back.

ACT again. "I'm not homeless! I built myself a home right over there, look," you defended yourself, pointing to where your little refrigerator-mattress shack was. In the time since your fall, you'd managed to upgrade it with additional roofing of sheet metal, a radio, and a camp stove. A few strings of fairy lights tied the place together to the point it almost looked livable.

"Your ingenuity is very impressive. Did you fix all that up yourself?" Another compliment from the Doctor.

"Yeah, but what's it to you?" Just for something different, you dug your fingers into where one of your pieces of rebar was secured to your rug-shell, wiggling it loose. You then spun on your heel so that centrifugal force launched the metal at the Doctor in a mock attack, a move he easily dodged.

The Doctor shot a gout of green flame at you, which you deliberately chose to weather again. You felt invigorated after his attack, something which surprised you as your stay Underground had thus far left you almost permanently exhausted.

Seeing your surprise, the Doctor again tilted his head to the side in a very bird-like motion. "My, you look like you just woke up from a twelve hour nap after that little attack. Let me smack you around a bit while I explain what I'm here. You could clearly use the healing."

He wasn't wrong, so you did as he asked, standing still and choosing to SPARE the Doctor over and over while he explained.

The Doctor was from a distant corner of the Underground called the Dunes, a hot and sandy place with a small population of monsters. Bad luck with 'certain geological phenomena' had left the formerly lush land without water so most had moved away, leaving only a few isolated towns left. He himself was from the 'Wild East', where he ran the only hospital around. Normally he could keep up with the work alone, but due to 'events', the Wild East had gotten more dangerous and he was in need of extra hands. Should anything happen in the nearby Oasis Valley and he was called away, no one would be left in the Wild East to take care of any emergencies, which was just asking for someone to get dusted.

Thinking back on the very first monster you ever encountered, you went pale behind your mask and nodded. You'd give a lot to never see a monster dust in front of you again.

"Why me? I can't be your first choice. And you never explained how you knew me, either."

"This more an ask of opportunity than something I planned," the Doctor chuckled back, casting more green sparks from his fingertips at you. "You're a very strange-" the pause was notable, his gaze piercing- "monster and you've been featured in all sorts of stories. The saloon is a lovely place to pick up rumors and the Dunes isn't as far from Waterfall as you might think. In just about every story I can think of you're mentioned to be building something, fixing something, or looking for something new to build or fix."

"So?" you asked, idly selecting SPARE.

"I can fix a body no problem. Even without magic, it's easy enough to put a hurt monster back together again. Some food, a night of rest, and most monsters are stable enough for me to get to them later with some proper green healing. It's those whose problems are more inanimate that I have trouble with."

Your brow furrowed at that, confused. "Okay, you lost me. You're a medic, what exactly are they asking you for? Are you supposed to fix their front doors or something?"

The Doctor took your question in stride, answering, "A monster's health is tied to more than their physical body; the state of their soul and their emotional well-being are very important. A monster with a 'broken heart', as the humans say, is a monster without the will to live and once you're missing that, you're as good as dust. Monsters call it 'falling down', a state of hopelessness so profound that the body begins to decay with the soul still housed inside. A nasty way to go, but curable."

"How?"

"A monster just needs to fall in love with living again," he replied. "But of course, preventative measures are best. We've been Underground a very, very long time after all. It doesn't take much for a monster to lose hope these days, and breaking or losing something important to them can be just the blow needed to shatter a soul. I can feed all the green magic I like into a monster, but if I can't heal the cause of the break, there's nothing I can do."

Your eyes widened behind your glasses at that. "So that's why you want me. I've got plenty of free time and you already know I can fix things." There are other reasons why you made an excellent candidate to help the Doctor, you knew, but you weren't sure you wanted to give him any ideas. You were already desperate. If he offered you a dry bed and a meal every once in a while, you were fairly sure you'd be willing to work for him for free. 

"There's one more reason," the Doctor continued, expression growing more serious. "You will keep your mouth shut. You have things-" another, very intent glance towards your soul- "you want to keep secret. Well, so do I." He hesitated, as if unsure he wanted to share more, then ended the encounter. Your soul sank back into your chest as color filtered back into view. "You must forgive me if I'd rather not go into it. I promise, I will never hurt you and your part in my secrets will be minimal. Just keep quiet when I ask."

You ducked your chin into your shell, considering his words. "Say I agree to work with you; you keep my species a secret and I keep my mouth shut on whatever your deal is. I'll work for you in the Wild East fixing things you can't, and we'll save some lives together. What do I get from all this?"

"The satisfaction of a job well done not enough for you?" The Doctor's tone was far too flippant for you to believe him.

"I like being alive, thanks. That usually takes food and water, to start." You were practically buried up to your nose in your shell, the red of your sunglasses burning at the monster accusingly. The Doctor just chuckled at that, taking humor in your display of pique. 

"Food, water, a bed in the attic of the Hospital, and a small stipend to be given to you every seven days. Does this sound better?"

"Help me gather up my tools and carry them back to your place and we have a deal." 

———

The Doctor ended up being practically useless when it came to helping you move your stuff, his small form kept sinking into the muck of Waterfall if you loaded him with more than a few pounds of material. While you didn't have much you considered yours, per say, you had plenty of stuff that you knew was needed for the work ahead of you. In the end, you just handed him your jars of screws and bolts while you piled your tools and scrap metal into a tattered pillowcase, which you then hauled over your shoulder. You tried to take along some of your food and water stash but the Doctor had gone silent when he'd seen your supply pile before claiming that he'd keep the pair of you well stocked for the trip.

To be fair to him, the Doctor did take this role seriously. The trek to the Wild East was much more arduous than the monster had implied, with a series of stairs cut into a cliff serving as the primary way to get from the upper reaches of Waterfall to the Dunes, the path eventually terminating in an abandoned mine. The deeper into the earth you walked the warmer it got, and at the first hint of you sweating through your burlap mask, the Doctor had pulled a bottle of cold lemonade from some unseen pocket and offered it to you with a warning against dehydration.

The warning was well-warranted and you went through a lot more lemonade as the pair of you finally exited the cave system into what you could only describe as a desert. It was flowing sand, rough orange mesas, and alarmingly spiky cacti as far as the eye could see- with nary a hint of civilization. The Doctor had shrugged off your glare and set off into the Dunes and faced with no choice, you followed him. 

The rest of the trip sucked. You were tall enough to high-step above the worst of the shifting sand but your strength was quickly exhausted, leaving the Doctor to shove green into your system every half hour to give you an artificial burst of energy. This process wiped the Doctor almost as quickly as the heat wiped you out, leaving the pair of you hiding under a rocky outcropping for the worst of the midday heat. 

It was there that the Doctor offered up lunch and a better description of what you could expect from the Wild East.

"So there's really no Royal Guard presence at all?" you asked, scarfing down half a bean and cheese sandwich that your new employer had pulled from the apparent ether. 

"None," the Doctor had replied, watching you with morbid fascination. You had gone so far as to pull the burlap sack off your head so you could eat faster and the little monster had seemingly taken an interest in seeing a human eat up close. "We're so few in number, and us monsters are generally so peaceable, that we haven't been a stop on their patrol route in years."

"But there has to be at least some trouble, right? Things can't always be perfect." 

"Ah, that's what the sheriff and his posse is for, but the chances of that group giving you any problems for your species are slim at best. They're less 'law enforcement' and more 'law adjacent'. Think of them as town mascots if it makes you feel better; they may set the rules but following them is up to your degree of common sense."

"Who are they, anyway? What do they look like?" you asked around the last bite of your sandwich. The Doctor just shook his head at you with a chuckle before offering up another bottle of lemonade.

"You'll meet them in time, I'm sure. Now, the people you really need to care about are..."

———

Once midday had passed and you'd had your fill of refreshments and conversation, you and the Doctor set out again, this time in a bee-line for the tall cliffs along the back of the cavern, the Wild East apparently nestled in their shadow. The rest had given you back your energy, which gave you the opportunity to notice and gain new loathing for a whole new set of discomforts.

Your burlap mask was good for keeping out the flying sand, but it stuck to your face as you sweated, leaving you both itchy and sticky. Your rug-shell, which provided plenty of defense and had a lot of room underneath, was also excellent for trapping warm air. The metal woven into the fabric practically burned in the desert heat. The only parts of your costume that seemed optimized for the climate were your sunglasses and waders, which worked to keep the sand out of uncomfortable places but did little besides.

As such, when the last of the day's light faded away and you and the Doctor rolled into town, you were hot, tired, and miserable- but you weren't sandy.

Small victories.

The Hospital was fortunately one of the first buildings along the main thoroughfare of the Wild East, a two-story piece painted in military grey-green with a red "H" above the door. The wooden siding and slatted windows gave it a very 'Western' feeling, a sense you got from the whole town, what little you could see of it.

"Why's it so dark out there," you grumbled to the Doctor, stepping through the swinging double doors to get a look at the infirmary. To your relief, the inside of the Hospital seemed more modern that the outside and you found a light switch with ease.

The Doctor quickly followed you, kicking off his boots by the door. One tipped over, dumping a small pile of sand out onto the wooden floor. "I'll turn on the fan in a second and show you your room; it's late and we all wake up early around here. As for your question," the Doctor stepped around you, gesturing for you to follow, "we don't exactly 'keep with the times'. It's part of why I went so far to find you, most folks around here don't know how to use a cellphone, much less how to fix one. And try to bring a VHS tape to one of those 'New Home' monsters and they act like you're asking them to make fire with twigs."

"You don't have street lamps here, do you," you dead-panned, seeing where this was going. Following the Doctor led you through a small door in the back, then up a very narrow set of stairs that turned sharply into what must have been the Doctor's quarters. A postage stamp kitchen with a wood-burning stove met your gaze, along with a tiny table for two, a cot off to one side, and several shelves full of everything from food to herbs to a few lit oil lamps. There wasn't an outlet to be seen. "Seems...rustic," you added, though in truth you thought 'backwards' or 'charming' would fit better.

"The Wild East is on the power grid, but it's all run through the Steamworks to the North I'm afraid," the Doctor said, moving to pull a cord hanging from the ceiling. The small ladder unfolded, leading to the attic. "Outlets that were built before we switched to using the Core for power work fine, but we've got nothing more recent than that. As such, who has power and who doesn't is a bit of a toss-up."

You looked up to where your room in the attic would be, then back to the Doctor. "And will I have power?"

The Doctor tilted his head in a way that read a bit like a sheepish smile. "You'll have a fan?"

———

As it turned out, you did have power. It was just in the form of a single outlet, which the Doctor had warned you against plugging any power strips into. Something about blowing out the circuit breaker, though by that point you were only half listening, too busy taking stock of your new quarters.

The room itself was tiny, the floor space barely enough to waddle around the bed and get to the window with. What it lacked in breadth though, it made up for in height, the sloping angle of the roof giving you plenty of space to stand straight. That, combined with the large East-facing window, gave the room enough sense of space to not be claustrophobic. The warmth, however, was already unpleasant, making the fan unfortunately necessary. Alas, no desk lamp for you.

As the Doctor had explained, heat rose and it all got trapped in your little attic room. While you were welcome to spend your time in your room as you liked, it would be best if you only used it for sleeping at night, when the room would be cool enough to be livable. 

You'd nodded your assent to this quickly, seeing sense in that. Even if you had wanted to stay up late reading or working on a project, the lack of light past sunset (or the 'curtain drawing', as the Doctor had called it) would make it difficult.

Another warning from the Doctor about introductions the following morning had you hanging up your disguise, dumping your shirt and slacks in a pile off to the side, and settling down to sleep. You were out like a light.

Morning came quickly, just as the Doctor said it would. The screeching peregrine falcons were definitely a change from the stereotypical roosters, though, which you complained to your employer about as soon as you'd stumbled into the kitchen, still groggy from sleep.

He'd just laughed, told you to ignore the 'eagles', and served you some pancakes. As far as mornings went, you'd take it.

The rest of your morning was spent with the Doctor touring you through the ins and outs of his clinic. For all that he claimed that you working for him was act of serendipity, he seemed well-prepared to have you. The infirmary below had six beds, with the seventh having been removed to install a desk for you. He'd also gone to the trouble to building a 'latrine' out back of the Hospital, which you'd been surprised hadn't been part of the building to start with.

The next step was to show you his supplies of bandages and medicine, citing that you would be helping him with some his easier patients as a learning experience. It was as the Doctor was walking you through the contents of his suture kit that the Hospital saw its first visitor of the day.

The monster who strolled through the doors was a tall creature; finned, scaled, and dressed in shades of purple, blue, and black. 

You couldn't see their eyes but you could tell they were looking at you intently from under the brim of their beret.

"Hello Moray! How are you?" Your employer greeted the monster with a cheerful wave, apparently recognizing them. He'd then gently shoved you to the side, getting between you and your visitor. After a moment more of consideration, the monster nodded back.

"I'm well enough. Star has us running drills for the next bandit attack, so we'll want more blister cream by the end of today. Though," and here 'Moray' paused, eyeing you over, "you may have us beat for future plot points."

Okay...? You didn't know what to make of that statement but it clearly meant something to the Doctor, as his next chuckle sounded slightly strained.

"I'm afraid my new assistant wasn't hired on with your antics in mind. I can do blister cream and I'll be sure to take my assistant over to the saloon for lunch, but it's strictly back to work for them after, yep! Pass that along to Star too, won't you Moray?"

The fish monster grinned at your employer then, a wide, leering thing, "Eh, I can try but I make no promises. You know how Star can get. Get your Newbie a good hat, keep 'em quiet, and that should help; we'll do our part in making sure nobody gets hurt so Star won't have an excuse to approach 'em."

A final nod and a grin to you, a wave to the Doctor, and Moray was gone as quickly as they had arrived. You let out a heavy sigh once the door swung shut, leaning a hip against the desk as you met your employer's gaze with a gimlet red glare.

"Okay, you have to tell me what was up with that because that? That seemed like trouble."

"That," the Doctor huffed, throwing a hand to the air, "was Moray, a member of our sheriff's little troupe. They work to keep things interesting around here-"

"Wait, but bandit attacks-"

"Are one of the things they schedule on the community calendar, yes-"

"Why a hat-"

"If you don't have one, they'll get you one-"

"And why me?"

"Because you're new," your boss groaned, dumping the beak of his plague doctor mask into his hands. "I knew this would come up, but I'd hoped it would take a little longer. If you're new, there's nothing our sheriff loves more than to rope you into what the Wild East has to offer- pun very much intended. It's great for tourism, terrible for everyone sane."

"...Toursim?" You asked weakly.

"Ah." Said the Doctor.

———

Apparently the good Doctor had left a little tidbit out of his explanations about the Wild East: the whole town was full of historical reenactors, or as your would put it...

"They're LARPers. Your town is run by LARPers obsessed with human movies. How the hell have you not all been, I dunno, excommunicated for cringe by the rest of your species? Aren't humans your mortal enemies?"

The Doctor's expression looked somewhat akin to a constipated seagull. "Now that's a little harsh. We're not as bad as all that..."

You rolled your eyes under your mask, "This is part of why you're not on the Royal Guard Patrol routes, I bet. They all think you're nuts."

"That- may be part of it, yes," the Doctor finally admitted after a lengthy pause, meeting your withering gaze with his own more blasé version. "Judge us all you like, but tourism brings in plenty of gold and we have some of the highest happiness ratings of the Underground. Call us crazy if you must, but it's a crazy that works."

You weren't sure how you felt about people turning a whole town into what was essentially a theme park without accounting for the opinion of the locals. And if that 'sheriff' and his group were really in charge, what happened to all the monsters who didn't want to take part in the reenactments? It was a series of questions worth pondering, and ponder them you did, keeping your silence as the Doctor dug an old straw hat out of storage for you and ushered you to the saloon for lunch.

The saloon was another two-story wood building, the material of it weather-smooth and varnished a rich dark brown. You could hear the faint jangling tunes of ragtime as you got closer, trailing close on the heels of the Doctor as he slipped through the double doors. Stepping in after him was like walking onto the set of an old Western, stunned-silent crowd and all. The center floor was taken up by a standing bar ringed in enough stools to seat a dozen  monsters. A corner by the door had a few card tables set up, at which a few shady-looking monsters were playing a round of poker. A shadowy fellow in a top hat met your gaze and you quickly looked away, a shiver going down your spine.

The second story consisted of a sort of balcony, which was populated by several tables of drunken revelers. A lone pool table was shoved into the back and you could just make out a group playing darts through the haze of tobacco smoke, which curled lazily around the ceiling and the golden glass chandelier at the building's peak.

The brass light fixtures, the central bar, the smoky smell of old tobacco- it was both nostalgic and deeply out of place, given your location Underground. 

"Hello everyone," the Doctor said, breaking the choking silence. A beckoning motion from your employer and he had you joining him on a stage near the back of the saloon, the bar tender being kind enough to flick on a lone spotlight for him. You stood there awkwardly, cursing your extra  head of height as the Doctor strained on his toes to pat your shoulder.

"This here is my assistant, fresh from Waterfall. They'll be joining me in the Hospital from here on out and will be just as happy to take your gold as I am, so don't get any funny ideas about discounts! Their favorite color is beige and their favorite food is rock salt; if you have any other questions, no you don't!"

...Really? Beige?

Sound came rushing back, the various monsters shouting back their own greetings as they turned back to their drinks, games, and personal conversations. The nervous tension thrumming through the Doctor released with a gusty sigh, the monster now leaning into your side with a hint of smile to his posture.

Was that really it? Just a few throw-away lines, some fake info to make you seem boring, and you were part of the town? Just like that?

Apparently not, because somewhere from the balcony a hand slammed against a table, the noise echoing loud enough to once again silence the crowds.

"Well well, Doctor! Glad to have you back, and with such good company, too! We need more than just some in-tro-ductions, I must say. You, bringing us help like this? Further aid for all our ills? This calls for a proper celebration!"

The crowd on the left balcony parted, making way for what you knew on sight to be the sheriff of the Wild East. His posse- an intimidating group of four monsters- loomed over his deceptively slim shoulders, giving him gravitas he may otherwise have lacked. The lone face you recognized of the posse, Moray, gave you a sheepish wave.

The sheriff leading the group wore black boots and pants, a teal button-down, and a brown poncho with pale blue and green embroidery around the hem. A golden star was pinned to his lapel and a dark brown cowboy hat pulled the outfit together, casting the monster's five-pointed face in deep shadow. A beat, then that shadow lifted, revealing a wide, white grin glittering with excitement.

"Dina! A round of root beers for everyone and a feisty slider for the newbie!" The crowd cheered at the announcement and the music resumed with a jattering crash, ragtime pouring out from some unseen speaker to add to the levity.

The sheriff put one hand on the balcony as if to swing over it to fall to the first floor, hesitated, then bolted for the stairs. In mere seconds he had joined you and the Doctor on stage, jockeying until he was between the pair of you. The beaming smile was all the brighter from up close, which had you squinting suspiciously.

"I'm the sheriff in these here parts, North Star they call me. An' for yourself?" 

Here the Doctor tried to interject, shuffling around North Star's other side, but a quick-step on the part of the sheriff and your full attention was back on him and his grin.

Your disguise didn't really allow for offering him a hand to shake, nor did you want to, so you sketched a bow instead. A tilt of your head so your glasses caught the light of the chandelier and you drawled, "I'm the Doc's assistant."

A beat passed while the sheriff waited for you to elaborate. You didn't. 

"I ain't gonna judge if you'd rather not share your name, y'know. Lotsa monsters 'round these parts have names they picked, if you want to just make one up." North Star said, voice lowering into something warmer. The Doctor stilled, and something in you did too.

That was... a surprisingly insightful guess for a monster you'd just met. You were a human and had a very human name to go with your species. Even if the Doctor said there'd be no problems for your kind in the Wild East, you didn't want to give away the game so quickly. It wasn't safe.

"Hm," you said eventually. Would you regret this? "Why don't you give me a nickname instead?"

The sheriff's eyes grew large at that, white and wide in shadow of his hat. "Woah, really? Ha, if you're sure, then I'd be glad to think of something." North Star took a few steps around you, spurs jingling as he hemmed and hawed, going so far as to pluck gently at the edge of your shell, which had you edging away on instinct. Fortunately he seemed to respect your discomfort, immediately backing away with hands raised before going right back to circling. 

"Heh, been a while since I'd seen a proper outfit like this. I can tell you put real thought into it, even if it's a bit thrown together" North Star commented to himself, finally coming to rest before you with his hands on his hips. "A set-up like that has a purpose behind it, and with you following the ol' crow Doc like you are, I'd say you're the type to be serious-like about that purpose. So- let's call you Scarecrow! Scare the sick out'a people, yeah?"

Huh. As far as names went... Yeah, that would do.

Chapter Text

The Doctor had been leaned into your side, hard, as soon as North Star had backed up enough to let the smaller monster get close, his short stature doing nothing to hide the anxiety quivering through him, though you're still not sure the sheriff had noticed how badly he was stressing the monster out. As luck would have it, though, the bartender was a bit more observant and quickly called out to the three of you.

"Hey! North Star promised you a slider, yeah? Come pull up a seat and eat before it gets cold- and Star, if you wanna be offering up root beers to everyone, you get to help pass 'em out, too." The bartender, a sort of armadillo monster to your untrained eye, offered up a wink to you as she beckoned North Star over to hand the disgruntled sheriff a tray stacked high with wooden mugs. In the background, the rest of North Star's posse was hard at work with trays of their own, passing out drinks with the air of seasoned waiters.

"Ah, c'mon Dina, now can't that wait? I jus' gotta be welcomin' to our Scarecrow here, they'll need a tour an'-"

"Star, if you don't get o'er here and help, I'll let Mooch have your spot for movie night!" called a large monster with bright pink skin. You recognized him as a member of North Star's posse, though the fact that he was handling six trays of root beers spread across both arms rather gave it away.

'Was it common for North Star to land his friends in situations like this?' you wondered, taking in the playful bickering the sheriff, the bartender, and the pink monster all fell into. 

You glanced down at the Doctor then, trying to gauge if he'd explode if you spent any longer in the saloon. You'd been alone for a long, long time but somehow being surrounded by so many people had you feeling more relaxed than terrified, though you knew you should be. Any slip up would be the literal death of you in the Underground. It seemed the Doctor was feeling your fear for you, if his closeness was anything to go by.

"What'cha think, Doc? Ten more minutes?" You murmured under your breath. He responded with a short, sharp nod, still tucked tight to your side. The eye pieces of his mask flashed white as the light caught them.

"I'll stick close," the monster muttered back. A little grateful for his paranoia, you lept off the stage, Doctor in tow, to take the closest seats to the stage. The bartender slid you your burger almost immediately, a small thing with a red hue to the patty that implied plenty of spice.

"A feisty slider, on the house! And call me Dina, it's nice to have a new face to introduce myself to," the armadillo monster called before moving to take care of another customer. The Doctor, for his part, kept silent with his head on a swivel, watching her.

On your part, you just wanted to eat. Hunger scratched at your gut as you stared at your burger, then at your outfit. The lack of arm holes was becoming a problem, though you still didn't like the idea of resorting to gloves to hide your very human hands.

With a mental shrug, hunger winning out, you slithered a hand to the bottom hem of your shell, snagged the burger, then tugged your hand back turtle-like under the hem in one quick move. It was but the work of a moment to duck your face low into your collar, pull the burger up to mouth-level under your clothes, then stuff half of it into your mouth in one go. It was delicious, making the next two bites even faster.

Finished with her work, Dina turned back to you then did a double take at your empty plate. "Sheesh," she whistled, eyes wide, "uh, want another one?"

"I'm too broke to pay," you demurred a little sheepishly, "though the food was tasty. Where do you guys get burgers like that, anyway? Do you make them? I've never tasted a patty like that before, it was spicy but not painful spicy, y'know?"

Dina tilted her head at you in confusion but her smile was all pride. "Yeah, I make 'em here at the saloon. Monster food being made of magic and all, it's easy enough to pump the burgers so full of good intent that the spices come across but can't do damage. Not that monster food usually does damage? You have to be a pretty spectacular cook to ruin food that badly."

Here the Doctor piped up, apparently taking interest in the topic, or perhaps trying to cover for your ignorance, "Intent is how food gets its flavor. If you're used to bland food, you must not care too much about the end result, Scarecrow."

You nodded, absorbing the info and the use of your new name. "Blame it on being from Waterfall I guess. What cooking I did was... wet. And bad."

Dina and the Doctor both look sympathetic at that.

"Well, even if you can't pay, have another feisty slider anyway. I can't stand the thought of bad food," Dina said with finality, before turning to go get you another burger.

"Uh, thanks," You replied.

"Oh don't worry about it. I'll just start a tab for you, you can start paying it off at the end of next week."

You gave your employer a slightly panicked glance at that, but in the end, you did accept the burger.

———

It was strange, stepping back into the Doctor's clinic after the hustle and bustle of the saloon. The silence seemed almost defeaning, the afternoon light sliding in narrow streams through the window slats to catch the room like a bug caught in amber. There was a warmth to the room that made it feel as if you could be breathing soup, but a sharp tinge in the back of your throat spoke of dry air and the sting of old herbs.

You paused in the doorway, taking in the utter stillness of the space. The Doctor was apparently much more used to the tableu, however, because with the ease of long practice he moved around you to flop backwards onto one of the beds. It barely creaked at his weight, to your amusement.

Little by little, tension seemed to melt away from your employer, and you were struck with the realization that this whole process of hiding a human in the Wild East was more fraught than you'd known.

"Hey, Doc?" You murmured, crossing the room to sit at your desk.

He grunted at you, the noise a bit strange as it was filtered through the beak of his mask.

"Obviously I don't wanna get caught out as a human, I'd get sacrificed as just another soul for the barrier in a heartbeat. I already plan to be careful to the point of paranoia, and it's good you're that way too, but... If I do get captured. Y'know, as an if. What happens to you?"

Your eyes traced the black curve of the Doctor's mask as the afternoon's light patterned over it. It twitched as he began to speak.

"I don't know. I- try not to think about it." As if warming to the subject, the pace of his words picked up. "From an intellectual standpoint, I would get reprimanded at best, jailed at worst. Perhaps replaced, relocated to where someone can 'keep an eye on me' for my human sympathies. To slip into the macabre however... I've but had you for a day and thought of you dead just kills me. Scarecrow is an apt name for you, apprentice, because you terrify me. What a risk you are, and yet." 

He trailed off then, retreating back to his anxious silence. Tension joined the dust in the air. You didn't know what to say.

"You're... very quick to get attached," you eventually settled on, sounding out the words as if trying to settle them into their right places.

"It's less you and more the idea of you," the Doctor hummed back. Then, "I'm going to do something I will ask your silence on. Please don't ask any questions, I'll explain what I can." 

You watched in bewildered silence as the Doctor slid from his bed to grab a rope from the back cabinet, which he then used to tie the handles of the front double doors together to keep them shut. From there the window blinds were closed, the lights were dimmed, and a tarp was thrown over the floor to muffle the monster's foot steps. The Doctor paused in the middle of the clinic, then gestured you forward, urging you to join him. After a moment of hesitation, you did.

The monster once again gave the impression of smiling at you, if tempered by the anxiety in his posture. "Thank you. I apologize for the scare, I just realized that I'm a doctor and yet I haven't given you a check-up. If I'm to have you around, we need you to be- and stay- healthy. You're a human, so we have to be careful, but there are certain aspects of a full check-up that are private even beyond that. And with you being human, there's bound to be differences between your physiology and what I'm familiar with, so speak up if something hurts or seems off!"

He offered up his hands to you, palm up, asking for yours. "Are you ready? You'll need to remove your disguise for the later parts."

"As I can be?" you replied, placing the tips of your fingers against the monster's wrists. As he took your hands in his, you could feel the slightest thrum under your touch.

And indeed, it was news to both the Doctor and yourself that while the heartbeat of a human could be felt underneath their skin, monsters had no pulse but the thrum of their soul. There was a lot that you two learned that day.

Humans were heavier than monsters by far, fitting more mass into your height than was 'sane or reasonable', as the Doctor put it, clucking at his scale. The clucking only got more frantic when you mentioned the months of lost weight.

The humidity of Waterfall had luckily done you no damage: your breathing was as expected, your lung capacity the same as it would be for a monster your size.

You had blood, different from the liquid magic that ran under a monster's skin, but you bruised just as easily when jabbed with a needle. 

Infection was less of a worry for monsters, which you complained about as you swiped at the site of injection with a wet rag.

However, being human, you would have a hard time catching any monster-type illnesses. Your flask of blood stayed stubbornly unreactive as the Doctor dripped various solutions into the vial, holding it up to your eye as he added each one.

Bit by bit, the monster walked you through the most thorough check-up you'd ever had in your life and you were asked questions to the point of feeling dizzy. Did you know how often you sneezed as an infant? No, and you weren't sure why it mattered to the Doctor, but everything- absolutely everything- got written down anyway.

The last step of the procedure had the Doctor quiet and grim, stiff as he turned to you, his clipboard and notes having been put away.

"Scarecrow," he said at last, "This is the part to be kept a secret between you and me. If anyone asks to see your soul, run far and run fast because your soul is the very essence of your being and to reveal it would be to expose yourself to the greatest harms possible. I ask because I am myself, the Doctor, and I cannot hurt you. I will be the only exception to this rule."

You nodded, taken by the seriousness of the moment. "Because I'm human, yeah? You need seven human souls for the barrier and I would be number six."

"No!" he cried, gaze incensed, "Monster, human, anyone- to reveal your soul and be mistreated is nothing but the highest form of violation." The Doctor's voice faded into a venomous hiss at the last word, the disgust and fury lingering there driving you to take a wary step back, hands raised in defense.

Conscious of the effect he'd had on you, the Doctor shrank back, making himself small for your sake. "Forgive me, I shouldn't shout. I do still need to see your soul, however. Do I have your permission to withdraw it?"

The flare of anger from the Doctor had felt like dancing near a landmine; you didn't know that he'd had that sort of spark in him. Frankly the leery tension was starting to get to you, but if the intent was to scare you straight about revealing your soul to anyone, it was definitely working. You'd made your promises to the Doctor but his worry almost made you want to refuse him out of principle, wary of a potential explosion. 

It was a long moment before you gave him a tight nod, stepping close to him to be in arm's reach.

The Doctor raised his hands, hesitated, then met your gaze. "I need verbal confirmation, Scarecrow. Do you consent to me removing, examining, and- working with your soul?"

"I agree, and I'll be quiet about whatever happens next," you replied, mentally locking yourself down so you wouldn't flinch. You had no idea what to expect for having 'the culmination of your being' pulled from your chest, but the implications from the Doctor made it seem unpleasant. 

Then he put his hands flat to your sternum and every thought left your mind at once. It was like... tugging. A smooth, gentle pull like sliding apart two magnets. The world flickered monochrome for a moment and suddenly you were blinking fiercely at the little cyan heart hovered in the palms of the Doctor's hands.

It was small, fragile, but it glowed.

It was you.

The world seemed to focus in and in on that little blue heart, and emotions swelled in your throat to see it. Breathless, you reached for it with shaking fingers, only for the Doctor to quickly pull away, soul still perched in his cupped hands. You mindlessly followed, fixated on your soul entirely. 

"Scarecrow, enough." The tone was vaguely pleading. You stopped, frozen, still staring at your soul. "You see now, why souls are so private?"

"Yes," you whispered out through numb lips. 

The soul. It was you. It was you. 

The pressure in your throat and eyes kicked up, emotions threatening to choke you. You couldn't think except for that little cyan heart and how it was you, yours, and gone from your chest. You needed it.

To have it in the hands of the Doctor was- fine. You didn't have the bandwidth to attach a particular feeling to that. But having it out in the open was vulnerable, and that had you overwhelmed in a bad way.

"I should have told you sooner, I. I am sorry, Scarecrow. You promised- keep your word. Don't speak of this. My theory; it will help so many, if..."

The Doctor's hands glowed a brilliant green, clenched tight around your soul, and squeezed.

You felt-   yo u   f e   l   t....

At first it felt like something wanted to come rushing out of you, like juice spurting from a squeezed juice box. Memories flickered briefly through your consciousness, little bits of past you that had you wondering if this was your life flashing before your eyes as you died.

But the pressure didn't abate and suddenly it felt less like something was pouring from you and more like something was forcing its way in.

A memory- not one of yours- filtered into your mind.

There was dust. Thick, almost sticky for how fine the powder was. It clung to hands that you scarcely recognized as your own, buried deep in a feathered chest.

Monsters did not bleed. The trickling dust was more than enough- the monster under your hands-

He was dying. You knew that. This was-

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilled down your beak.

Don't die. Please don't die. Tears, dust- your hands were sticky with grey paste and you knew that it would never, ever wash off.

-this was death and every part of your soul was screaming against it.

If you had it your way, you would  n e v e r

S e e   d  e  a   t   h

A g a i n.

You would make sure of it.

———

You came back to yourself in fits and starts, patchwork. There was a warmth in your hands, a small cyan glow, a sense that something had changed; a steadiness to your bones that you'd lacked before.

The room smelled faintly of burnt sugar, afternoon still lingering in shades of gold across the floor. However long it took for the memory to play out in your mind, it seemed reality had been kind enough to put itself on pause until you awoke.

Then- words. Hands, trembling at your elbows, torn between holding you close and holding the Doctor upright.

"Good, good, eyes open just like that. Your soul's right there, back in your hands, you're safe. You're okay- oh Angel, you're okay. Hahaha, you're okay!" The monster's voice broke on a splinter of laughter and his hands seemed to decide for him, grabbing tight to your shirt sleeves as his mask planted itself in your chest.

"What... was that?" you croaked out, mind caught somewhere between the dusty past and the panicked present. It had you feeling jittery, the Doctor's close presence making you itch and ache to step away. You chose to focus on your soul instead, holding it up to eye level to look it over for signs of whatever had just occurred. It seemed... brighter, maybe? You weren't sure.

"Overcharge. An experimental medical technique to make a body sturdier and healthier beyond what it can normally sustain. I don't suppose the term hit points means anything to you?" The Doctor mumbled into your shirt. His shoulders moved with deep, calming breaths as the tension bled from him.

"Nah, I don't know much about medicine, just what I need to keep from killing myself on rusty metal," you muttered back, then, "wait, experimental?" You peered down at your employer, worry driving your voice up an octave.

His grip tightened. "You can't ask questions. I asked for your silence and I want you silent about this."

"I think being used as a test subject should give me some leeway with that." 

"No questions. All I can say is that overcharge was my plan to keep you alive should the worst happen, a sort of caveat for myself. If my new technique didn't work on you, I would have found a way to dismiss you because I can't stand the idea of your death being on my hands. Now that I know it works, I'll be treating you with it every day as a precaution, a process that will also help me refine it for use on monsters."

What the hell? You looked back at your soul, then down to the Doctor. "How do I put my soul back? I'm not arguing with you while it's out."

"Ah, just like what I did to pull it forward. The somatic component isn't necessary, but it's a good crutch for those learning the basics of soul manipulation. Just gesture to your chest with intent to put your soul away and it should work," the Doctor said, finally pulling away to take a step back, hands now clenched together over his sternum. He watched as you awkwardly flicked your hands towards your breastbone as if you were splashing water at yourself. Your soul, taking the hint, followed the motion and sank into your chest. 

"Just like that?" you asked, looking down at the monster. He nodded.

"Just like that."

"Okay. Okay..." you huffed, before pulling yourself up to your full height in an attempt to loom over the Doctor. The fear from the memory had tangled with your previous anxiety, forming a hard knot in your throat which was now wrestling with your new-found anger.

There being more to the Doctor than met the eye was something you'd known going into this, but the extent was more than a little infuriating. Your gaze was stern, as was your tone as you said, "I can accept strange medical procedures as being part of my stay with you, and I know I agreed to keep quiet when asked, so I'll keep my questions to myself. But this agreement is a two-way street, you promised you wouldn't hurt me. Experimental medicine seems a little risky, boss."

The lenses of the Doctor's mask reflected the red glare of your glasses back at you as your eyes locked to his. His voice was measured as he replied, "I can't hurt you. I literally am incapable of it. I heal and that's all I can do. Nothing more, nothing less. Experimental my actions may have been but the consequences of failure would have been a null result. I have kept my word to you, Scarecrow, and I ask that you don't press me further so I can keep the rest it: I will not draw you further into my secrets."

Your mind flashed back to that first meeting in Waterfall: '" -I will never hurt you and your part in my secrets will be minimal. Just keep quiet when I ask,"' he had said then. The Doctor of the present... you looked at him, long and hard. His hands trembled at his chest, though he met your stare without flinching.

"The monster who died in the memory- they mattered a lot to you." It wasn't a question, but the Doctor nodded as if you'd asked one anyway.

"Yes," was all he whispered back. 

...Alright.

You didn't like that your employment could have ended for a reason the Doctor had failed to explain beforehand. You really didn't like the way the Doctor's relief at your good health failed to match with his insistence that he couldn't do damage to you.

But-

          There was dust-

                        He was dying-

-the creature slumped into the water to dissolve away into a sodden white paste-

          You felt sick.

You would give a lot to never see another person die. On that, you and your employer could agree.

You could afford him some patience, for kindness' sake.

———

However the 'overcharge procedure' worked, it seemed to take a lot out of the Doctor to perform. As such, it was up to you to restore the clinic to rights and make it fit to see patients again. Between the check-up, the overcharge, and clean-up, it was well into the evening before you felt confident enough to pull the rope from the doors and push them open again.

The Doctor, still sat at your desk where you'd left him, craned his neck to see the darkening landscape of the Wild East. "Hm, I'd say we close for the night if we weren't technically on call at all hours. Best grab dinner from upstairs, there's leftover chili in the fridge."

You nodded, moving to close the door before pausing, an oddity striking you. "Hey, how is it that the Dunes have a day-night cycle? Aren't we underground?" you asked.

"That would be the swelterstone and the great curtain at work," the Doctor replied, getting to his feet with a low groan and a stretch. "The largest swelterstone ever found was dug up in the East Mines a long time ago, and it was dragged to the far end of the Underground soon after. A trio of elementals- old creatures, those, date back to the war if you can believe it- pull a huge black curtain in front of the stone every twelve hours or so to make our 'night'."

"How did they get that much fabric?"

"Very carefully," was the Doctor's wry response. Taking that in the spirit it was meant, you put thoughts of artificial sunsets from your mind and climbed the stairs to the monster's quarters in search of dinner.

The meal was domestic, your double serving of chili delicious, and while conversation between your employer and yourself was a bit strained at first, it soon smoothed into a steady back and forth about how future overcharges would work. The Doctor was intent on completing the procedure over breakfast first thing in the morning, something that you agreed with after a little convincing. 

The fact that the 'eagles' that had awoken you that morning were in fact an every day thing was really the kicker. If every morning was destined to be painfully early, perhaps some extra juice in your system was the right way to go to help you wake up.

Your hesitation lay in the effect the procedure had on the Doctor. The shaking hands and deep breathing, you'd learned, was almost as much from exertion as they were anxiety after that first overcharge. The monster had even had to sit down to keep from fainting, which sounded like all sorts of bad news to you.

As the Doctor had put it, however, the exertion was less from magic use and more from the concentrated intent needed for the technique. Now that he knew what the procedure needed from him, getting into the right mindset would make the overcharge easier and easier to cast. Practice, quite literally, made perfect. And, he'd pointed out with a sly smile implied in his voice, part of your job was to do his job. He could afford to be a little weak in the mornings.

Unable to fight him on that, you'd bowed from the conversation gracefully, washed your dishes, and retreated upstairs to go to bed early. You wanted every bit of sleep you could get.

Unfortunately, that didn't help and you still woke up groggy, much to your ire. Peregrine falcons in the morning, joy. (Whatever the Doctor said, that high-pitched shrill was not, in fact, the noise an eagle made). Did birdsong make you tired? Or was it the heat? Perhaps your body just missed coffee...

In any case, you silently ate your breakfast (cornbread and honey) in the company of your employer, offered up your soul for the overcharge, then headed downstairs to find something to do with yourself that wasn't just going back to sleep. The Doctor joined you soon after.

Neither of you had a set routine yet, the monster too used to working alone and you still unfamiliar with the clinic in its entirety. You often found yourself reaching for a stack of blankets to fold or a set of needles to sterilize only for the Doctor to take up the task before you could get to it. The only times you managed to snag some duty first was when he was taking a break, still tired from the overcharge. Irritated by this, you settled for working on personal projects until told otherwise, not wanting to fight the monster and stress him worse but equally unwilling to stew in your boredom- which was how you found yourself shaving a wooden block into a ball with a penknife when your first "customer" of the day stepped into the clinic.

"Oh no, I'm hurt" a huge pink monster said flatly, very carefully holding his left hand above the level of his heart as he squeezed through the hospital's double doors. Turning away from your desk, you could see the Doctor wince, the pair of you catching sight of the colorless ooze dripping to the floor to dry into dust on contact with the floorboards.

You'd not had a chance to see an actual fresh injury on a monster before so while this was interesting, you could only conclude that you preferred human injuries, as bloody as they were. You already knew you'd have to clean up immediately after the Doctor was done with treatment or else you'd be paranoid about breathing in monster dust for the rest of the day. 

"Hello Ed," said your employer, springing to his feet to gesture the pink monster to one of the beds. "What happened to you? It's been a while since any of you North Star lot got hurt badly enough to need my services."

Ed ducked his head at you, then the Doctor, giving you a perfect view of his tiny black top hat. Between his sleeveless tuxedo vest, slick black dress pants, and polished boots, he seemed oddly gentlemanly despite his ferocious scowl. The bed creaked as he sat at the Doctor's beckoning. "A stupid accident. Star had us doin' set design and someone got, er, hasty. Caught the wrong end of a sawblade, sliced my hand up."

You slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and stepped to peer over the Doctor's shoulder as he took Ed's massive hand in two of his own, turning it so you both could have a good view. A long gash cut through the center of the ogre's palm, about six inches in length though thankfully shallow. Ed, noticing you looking, huffed and gave you the edge of a smile, saying, "Ye're Scarecrow, huh? Saw ya the other day in the saloon. Welcome to the Wild East, I hope ya stick around."

"Yeah," you replied, glancing up to give Ed a nod as your own smile would have been hidden by your mask. While North Star had been a bit much, Ed so far had been nothing but respectful, which you appreciated. "And you're part of North Star's posse, you were passing out drinks for Dina at the saloon. I saw Moray yesterday and your name is Ed, so who were the other two helping out?"

"Ace's the one in the hat and Mooch is the squirrely one. Good people, I'm sure you'll get to say hello soon," Ed answered, his smile growing as he spoke of the other posse members. "Everybody knows everybody 'round here, and Star likes to be real up front with introductions. You'll get folks' names soon enough."

"How up front is that?" you joked back, trying to keep a note of worry from entering your voice. "He seems... energetic." He'd crowded you and the Doctor on the saloon stage and failed to notice how badly the monster had reacted, was what you meant, but you knew better than to say anything about it.

Ed shrugged with one shoulder, the motion huge and rolling like a mountain. "Star said it would be a surprise for ya, so I can't say much. It won't be anythin' too public though, we learned our lesson with Dune Buggy. Monster pupated on the spot rather than deal with public speakin', an' I can't say I blame 'em. Not all of us can be like Star."

The Doctor growled a little through his mask's beak, then pressed a damp rag to Ed's injury. "'Surprises that aren't public' is a very broad category with some concerning subcategories, and I don't need you lot running off with my assistant while I'm still trying to train them. Can you at least tell me if I should expect the rest of the posse to drop by today?"

Ed raised a thick eyebrow but responded gamely enough. "Prob'ly? Can't make any promises, but it ain't like you're swimming in reasons ta keep busy, Doc. You like us stirrin' stuff up."

"I don't like anyone getting hurt! Least of all my new assistant!" The Doctor blustered, at which Ed laughed. It was a sound like drumming on a powder keg, a deep, bass thing that startled you at first.

"Ha! But ya like Star's money! C'mon Doc, heal me up and I'll pay yer fee and get on my way, as ya like it."

The Doctor paused in his care for the gash across Ed's hand, rag still pressed to where the magic bleed was worst. His gaze was considering as he looked up at you, then back to Ed. "If we'll be interrupted regardless... hm. Ed, how would you like to cut a deal?"

Your gaze met Ed's, the red glass lenses mirroring his worry. The ogre frowned, then looked back to the Doctor to reply, "What did ya have in mind?"

———

You were knelt down, midway through wrapping another layer of gauze over Ed's hand, when the double doors of the hospital slammed open to a quartet of familiar faces marching in. North Star was head of the pack, spurs jingling, with Moray at his left shoulder, Ace to his right, and Mooch trailing after with little darts this way and that to try and get a clear view of the room from behind the others.

"Howdy y'all, pardon the intrusion!," the sheriff called, pushing back the brim of his hat now that he was out of the desert sun. "I do believe it's long since been time fer me- oh stars Ed, what in all the Dunes' days happened to ya?!" The rays around North Star's face flared wide with his alarm as he shot forwards to the pink monster, hands fluttering as he took in the many layers of bandages, tape, and healing pastes you and the Doctor had plied him with in past hour. Frankly he seemed more mummy than monster, a fact that had you stifling back a tickle of laughter.

The rest of the sheriff's posse just looked concerned, huddling together in shock just shy of the doorway.

Ed, for his part, just laughed and kicked at North Star's ankles with the foot the Doctor was still trying to tie a splint to, at which the little monster scoffed and quickly shifted back to your side, not eager to get in the way of the posse's reunion. "Hey Star! Look'it all the free medical care I got today, think I got a good deal?" 

"A good deal? Did'ja have to fight the whole of the Underground to get it?" North Star huffed, finally reaching out to take the ogre's other hand in his own, ignoring your place at Ed's side entirely.

"This does seem excessive," said Ace, stepping forward now with Mooch close on his heels.

"Free is free, and I do like free!" she squeaked before turning a gimlet eye on you and the Doctor. "But what's the catch? What'd they do to you Ed?"

North Star pulled at the silver clip holding the gauze at Ed's wrist in place, letting the bandage unravel in neat loops. Healthy pink skin met his gaze as he blinked in surprise. "A whole lot of nothin' is my guess. Is all of this decorative?"

"Nah," chuckled the ogre, "hand's still busted, but Scarecrow's got me covered. Doc just helped 'em get the rest of me covered as a learnin' experience, showin' them the ropes and all." He lifted the splinted leg as a demonstration, a toothy grin on his face, "I was just doin' my neighborly duty helpin' to train up our newest citizen. I'm a proper do-gooder!"

"I'll say," The sheriff turned to you, still crouched at Ed's feet with trail of gauze in your hand. "You do good work Scarecrow, could hardly tell this was just practice and not you dealin' with a real emergency set of hurts and harms." Now calm, North Star radiated pride and cocksure confidence as he peered at you, a grin to match Ed's on his face. "Thanks for lookin' after my pal so well. I appreciate it, really."

North Star's sudden charm was disarming, the turnabout from worry to gratitude more so, but it was... sweet, in a way. His emotions seemed so genuine.

You could feel a matching smile start to tug at the corners of your mouth but the Doctor, having had enough of being ignored, piped up before you could reply.

"Ed was an excellent patient, and his patience was even better. Thank you for lending him to us for the afternoon, North Star, we appreciate his time. Now if that's all...?"

The monster in question jolted as if struck, then very carefully straightened to his full height, pulling his shoulders back as if nothing had happened. "Thanks for the reminder, be mighty shameful if we came all this way and I forgot to settle our business here. Gang, circle up!- oh, uh, 'cept you Ed, you stay off that foot." 

You sat down on the bed next to Ed as North Star quick-stepped over to the rest of his posse, who were just as quick to shape into a loose diamond behind him. Ed nudged you gently (which still nearly had you reeling) and whispered, "Don't usually see it from this angle, I'll enjoy this," punctuating with a wink. Nonplussed, your focus swapped back to North Star as he cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips.

"There's no finer town in all of the Underground than the Wild East, hear? And living here comes with rules!" The monster's grin was cheerful as he leaned forward and lifted a hand to wag a finger at you. "Think you can name a few, pardner?"

Everyone seemed to bow towards you and hold their breath as you gave the question the consideration it was due. Part of you wanted to humor the sheriff but you couldn't tell if he wanted a serious guess or a confession of ignorance. It had you pulling a reluctant smile under your mask, which solidified as you settled on a response.

"Hm..." North Star was practically balanced on his toes with far he was leaned your way.

"Don't kill anyone?"

You could almost hear the mental train wreck as your audience registered your answer.

"Too obvious!" cried Moray, huffing and stamping their foot, heeled boot loud on the wood floor.

Mooch nudged them, grinning. "They're not wrong!"

Ace's lone visible eye narrowed, but North Star  merely nodded his head, the sheriff taking your response in stride. His grin stayed static, tacked on but still well-meaning.

"Yep, that's one a' the rules. We got a few others though, so listen close." The posse grouped up again, North Star's index finger brandished your way. "Number one, don't get hurt and don't hurt others! No killin' is part of this one, so take care not to break it; there's no excuse if ya know better already."

"Not that there's ever a good reason to kill," Ace gave as a snarky aside, then louder, "Rule two- play fair and pay fair. Don't cheat in games and if you purchase something, pay for it in money or labor."

Mooch did a little twirl on the ball of her foot, ending the pose by leaning into Ace's side. "Three! Don't take yourself too seriously! This is the 'don't be a dick' rule."

You nestled your face into the collar of your shell as North Star's grin twitched at the swear.

Moray was quick to pick up where Mooch left off, the fish monster crossing their arms over their head in a dramatic X-shape. "Rule four is simple! Take chances, make mistakes, and don't be afraid to explore! There's always something new and interesting around the corner if you go looking!"

Lastly, Ed, flexing next to you: "Five! Be kind!" A brief silence. "Yeah. That's it."

North Star held up five splayed fingers and leaned back on his heels, squinting one eye a little with good cheer. "There's five rules to this town, but we've got one more for those who break 'em." He closed his hand into a fist, brought it to the brim of his hat, then stuck one finger out and angled his wrist into a cross between a salute and a finger gun. "We're the law in these parts, the Feisty Five! Trouble makers answer to us, so if you break the rules-"

-the sheriff put the hand to his holster, drawing-

-what the fuck, was that a gun-

North Star pointed his gun at the ceiling, pulled back the hammer, and shouted, "Reach for the sk-"

You grabbed his wrist in a bruising grip.

"Don't you fucking dare."

The room seemed to hold its breath and in a blink your vision flashed black, white, and for just a flicker, pale blue.

Panic leaped in your throat then, tangling with the fury there until you were stumbling backwards, North Star's gun in your hand thankfully pointed at the floor. The rubber of your glove squeaked as your grip tightened.

As for the monster himself, he too had tumbled back, expression shifting from shock to an indignant scowl matched by the frowns on his friends' faces. Ed had gone as far as to start standing up but a sharp gesture from North Star was enough to quell that, the sheriff pulling away from Moray and Ace's supportive hands and Mooch's cautious grasp on his poncho.

His rays flared wide as his eyes narrowed, words slipping from his lips like thorny bramble, hushed and ready to snare.

"What were you thinkin'." A beat. "Seriously. What. That is a gun, my gun, and you had no idea if it was loaded or not. You were about three shakes from breaking rule one had I not let go, so explain."

You wanted to yell at him. By the Rune you wanted to yell at him. But that wouldn't get you what you wanted, which was for him to stop being stupid in your boss' hospital; the poor monster was half-hidden behind a bed already, fingering a syringe. You didn't need this to become an actual encounter, that'd be a one way ticket to outing yourself as a human, so you grit your teeth, rucked up your shell so that you could hold the gun outstretched in both hands, and told North Star to look.

"I was thinking that it'd be a little much to have an actual patient today. You have sand caught in the space between the cylinder and the top strap, where the barrel attaches, see? If your pistol had gone off you would've scattered debris everywhere at best, maybe have made some glass in the barrel, definitely would have scratched it up and affected the weapon's accuracy later. At worst? Bye-bye gun and hello hand injury because your gun may have exploded."

With your thumb you pointed to the location in question and true enough, you could see North Star's expression take a turn for the sheepish as he realized you were right. A tip of his hat covered his slip quickly though and, white slivers of eyes now hidden, he gave you a bright grin, bringing a hand to his chin. You wouldn't have been able to tell that he'd been angry a few seconds prior if you hadn't seen it firsthand.

"Well I'll be! You really are a Scarecrow, proper watchful and scarin' off need for our good crow of a doctor. I'm glad you caught that." The gratitude was heartfelt, entirely genuine- fitting for the situation, but it clashed with the lingering anger and fear in your chest. Shouldn't the sheriff be feeling similarly? But studying the monster's face, you couldn't catch a glimpse of anything negative; it was if time had rewound right back to when introductions were being made with all conflict forgotten.

North Star was every bit as genuine as before.

You hid a shudder and swallowed back your emotions.

"I'm just doing my job. I recommend you take this gun back home and pull it apart for a good cleaning or else it'll stay a hazard, maybe have your posse check their guns too." At your cue Moray and Ace tilted their heads up and squinted, the looks of people going through their inventories, but the sheriff just shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'm, uh, short of polishing wax so that ain't on the table for me. I'll have to take it back to Blackjack later, but thanks for the tip." North Star's grin was static, still a wide beaming crescent across his face, but you knew that that had to be a lie. Polishing wax? For cleaning a gun? Really?

Did...he not know how to fix it?

The conclusion sparked to life in your brain and your glasses caught the light as the connections came together. 

North Star was an actor. Facades were his thing. Of course he didn't know how to clean a gun, let alone how to spot damage waiting to happen, it's not like he could admit to as much, he was supposed to know all that stuff already as part of his role.

Then, when you tampered with his act, his first reaction was to lash out about safety because you were a guest in his town, and if tourists got hurt on his watch, then that was bad for business. That was followed by a turn-around just as quick, though, because of course he couldn't be mad at a guest.

Ha, given context clues, that probably made 'Blackjack' part of his costuming department!

Your ire melted away thanks to your new understanding and you took a step backward to your desk, pulling the gun closer to your chest. "Hey Doc! I think I've got my first customer."

The Doctor peeped his beak over the edge of the cot, looked at you a moment, then nodded firmly. "Not a bad solution! So long as it's quick, I approve, so good luck!" He stood and bustled off, moving to Ed's side to begin untangling the ogre from his 'treatment'.

North Star cocked his head, then joined you at where you stood over your desk. You laid the pistol down and began coaxing at the sand with the tip of a finger, but your attention was fixed on the sheriff.

"Customer?"

"I'm the Doctor's apprentice, yeah, but a lot of my job is actually mechanical. I'm supposed to fix anything boss can't heal, and your gun qualifies. If you give me- ehhh, five G and twenty minutes, I think I'll be able to have your gun working as good as new."

"That's- wow! And a bargain to boot, thank you kindly Scarecrow!" He was smiling. The monster hadn't stopped smiling, really, but now it was like a crack had formed and actual light was shining out, not just reflected sunshine to match what his character was supposed to be feeling. It... suited him. You wanted to see if you could widen that crack any further.

You grinned back at North Star, then felt a little silly because he obviously couldn't see your face. "Wanna see something cool?"

Gleeful nodding from the sheriff.

His hat tipped up a bit at the move and for a flash his eyes were visible, twin slices of white curved up with the force of his smile. His smile literally had reached his eyes; this glee was honest, a fact that made you irrationally proud.

"Don't blink." Then your hands were a blur of motion, pulling screwdrivers from drawers and returning them just as quickly, only to dip down again to find a dish for the screws. It couldn't have been three minutes before North Star's gun was in two halves and a few extra bits on your desk, sand already trickling out of the barrel. Your pleased expression twitched a bit at that. "Neat, huh? My relatives had guns so I've had a lot of practice at this; I was the only one who had the patience for maintenance without wanting to die, so I covered that part for everyone in my circle."

"Huh." North Star's tone was distant but definitely full of wonder, like he was trying to parse a magic trick. "You're right, that was cool. I'm honored ta be part of that chain you've got for cleanin', sounds like a mighty exclusive list."

You flinched, feeling as if a bolt of ice had lanced through your soul. That's right, you... you usually only fixed things for... your family.

Your gaze wandered down to the sheriff's gun, metal winking in the early touches of evening that streamed through the windows. 

"Yeah. I- guess you can feel honored about that. You'll be my first in these parts, heh."

If you weren't watching North Star's expression so closely you never would have noticed: his face caught the light and his cheeks were dusted with the faintest hint of blue.

Quick to change the subject, he turned the full force of his smile on you. "Hey, mind doing that again but slower? I might not be as mechanic'ly inclined as you but I think that's a trick I'd like ta learn."

You wanted so badly to match his cheer that you mustered all the levity you could into your voice, "Yeah, I can do that."

And while you couldn't be sure of your tone, your hands blurred into motion again as you did exactly as you said.