Is there a way to find the cure for this implanted in a pill? Is it just the name upon the bottle that determines if it will? Is the problem you're allergic to a well familiar name? Do you have a problem with this one if the results are the same?
The cheap plastic seat beneath Jeff creaked alarmingly beneath him as he sat in what could charitably be described as a "waiting room". It was barely large enough for a couple of chairs and a reception desk, empty and bare save for a hand-lettered sign requesting any visitors to ring the battered service bell that sat next to it. Certainly Jeff hadn't been impressed, but given his lack of funds--and worse, lack of insurance--he didn't have much in the way of treatment options.
At least he'd fared better than his house. Nothing was left of that but a sodden lump of timbers, scorched brick and melted plastic. A few scars (...okay, a lot of scars) on his back? Small price to pay for not being burned alive. Even if he did get stuck with some fly-by-night chemist with aspirations toward mad science.
But god-damned if that anti-burn goop of his hadn't actually worked. Or if it didn't, it sure felt a hell of a lot better than it had a week ago. Hopefully Maurice would have good news when he examined it properly. If he was really lucky, he might even be able to do something about the horrific itching that had started up.
He fidgeted, willing himself not to scratch what little he could reach. Leave it alone, Jeff, he told himself sternly. Itching means that it's healing, right?
He wasn't alone for very long. A few inner doors of the office opened and closed and soon the chemist himself appeared, a simple breathing mask dangling around his neck. Something was staining the cuffs of his scrubs but THAT WASN'T IMPORTANT. He quickly plopped into his chair and rolled to the computer, rapidly tapped a few keys before peering over his bobbing drinky bird and nodding to Jeff.
"Sorry about the wait, I got tied up looking at some samples. How are we doin' today?"
Jeff beamed at Maurice's arrival, and waved off his apology. "Don't worry about it, Maurice. I'm actually doing really good!" His cheer was belied a bit by the tension in his shoulders and back, and he twitched as a new round of itching started up.
Ugh, right between the goddamn shoulder blades.
"The pain's gone way down since last time. I haven't needed the good stuff in a couple of days." As relaxing as the Vicodin was, he preferred a clear head. "Just ibuprofen and the stuff you gave me. Mostly it just itches now."
"Great! Great! I bet that green linin' your pocket hasn't hurt either, has it?" He made his way out from behind the desk once he'd entered the data he intended and grabbed his clipboard on the way. "Come on back and we'll take a look."
The exam room was, like all exam rooms, uncomfortably cold and small, decorated with what few medical posters Maurice could find along with a few notices about insurance. He did his very best to make the joint look professional even though it was wedged very tightly between Pepper's Pizza and the laundromat.
"I'm gonna need you to hop right on up here and take your shirt off." Maurice turned to the little sink stand and grabbed a cotton swab and a pair of gloves.
Jeff laughed in reply, rising to follow him into the exam room. "It's been keeping a roof over my head so no, no it hasn't."
Oddly, the room seemed even colder than usual. Gooseflesh raised on his arms as he unbuttoned his shirt, and he was visibly shivering. "Are we going to try refrigerating me next?" he joked, folding his shirt into a neat bundle on his lap and turning so Maurice could easily reach his back.
Maurice laughed. This client was growing to be a welcome sight. He was glad the fellow could be in high spirits as he carefully pried away the bandages, ready with swabs to get rid of any run-off.
"Let's hope not! We usually just refrigerate folks that don't--" He cut himself off.
The burns were still there--some of them healing quite niceley. In school he'd seen some nasty scars on slides and even a few in person but none of them had looked quite so...prickly. Wait.
"This might not be fun, I think your dressings got caught when the wound was scabbing over."
He groped behind himself and grabbed up some tweezers from the table and leaned in close to grab one of the delicate shafts growing out of the man's back.
"Oka--YOUCH!" It took more effort than it should have to remove one of the strange growths, and a thin trickle of blood flowed freely from the base and from Jeff's back. His back tensed with the pain, and the shafts tensed along with it, sticking straight up out of his skin. The longest of them was less than an inch long, hollow and translucent, tapering to a point. The example caught in Maurice's tweezers was tipped a vivid orange, but on his back there were red and yellow examples as well.
The growths were densest along his spine just below the shoulder blades, spreading out a few inches to either side at the top and tapering to a point just above the middle of his back. More could be seen beneath the skin around the edges. The pattern of warm color along the tips would be pretty if they weren't...y'know...growing out of someone's back.
"Aheh. Sorry about that," Jeff said, hugging himself sheepishly. "Those dressings really got dug in there, didn't they?" His tone was light, but a bit shaken. He seemed oblivious to his true predicament, however.
Maurice felt like his heart was going to crawl out of his mouth. What was this? He turned away from Jeff so he could cup the--whatever-it-was against his glove and see the details better. He was going to need his microscope. This wasn't just dressings and blood this was...hair? No. No, hair didn't bleed like this.
He glanced back at Jeff's apparent hackles and suddenly realized he'd sprung a leak.
"Uhp! No, I'm sorry, let me get that real quick." With swab and alcohol, he quickly dabbed at the place he'd yanked out the feather. Luckily he hadn't broken the shaft of things would have been worse. His eyes traveled along the dull shapes just below the skin.
More alcohol was brought out to clear away the small bits of discharge and dead skin--and also so he could see the colors of...whatever this was more clearly.
"I think. I'm going to give you a different sort of dressing so that when you lean against your chair you won't have to worry."
The alcohol stung of course, but that was to be expected. When Maurice finished he nodded. "Oh! So it'll itch less?" he brightened considerably at that prospect. "Great! I know it's healing and all, but Jesus that was driving me nuts. How does it look by the way? Is it healing all right?"
"That's what I'm hoping--in any case these new bandages shouldn't get caught on you."
Maurice quickly put away the sample he stole and brought out a small clear plastic jar full of the salve he'd been developing.
"It's...pretty remarkable." He tried to keep the squeak out of his voice. This wasn't happening. It was just the fumes. He'd read that book for a laugh and because he was drunk. He was going to wake up tomorrow and laugh at himself. "There's probably not going to be a scar at all...your scabs are still a little rough so this should soften the dead skin."
It was...tempting to snag another totally-not-a-feather but he didn't want to cause Jeff any distress. Especially if he saw.
For a few days it seemed that Maurice's wild hope would come to pass. No angry messages on the office phone, no mysterious, angry red birds swooping out of the sky. Unfortunately, that relief ended when Maurice pulled up to his front door to find Jeff's car already waiting for him. The engine shut off as soon as Maurice got close, and a blast of hot air accompanied Jeff as he stepped out.
The good news was that he didn't look angry. He was dressed far too warmly for the weather, but still hugged himself as though he were freezing. "Oh thank God you're here." His expression looked more relieved than anything else. "Something...uh..." He wrung his gloved hands fretfully, looking around as if he was afraid he'd be overheard. His movements were off, somehow. Quick and jerky.
"Something...happened," he finally managed. "I need to see you right away."
Maurice's obnoxious wailing along to Paradise by the Dashboard Light came to an abrupt stop when he noticed another car idling outside his office. He killed the radio and felt something like a stone drop into the pit of his stomach when he realized whose car it was.
The chemist had scarcely taken out the office key when Jeff closed the gap between them. He wasn't scheduled for today.
"O-oh? Sure, sure, just--let me get the lights on, are you alright?" The stone turned into a led brick of dread as he jimmied open the door and lit the chilly office.
Maurice hadn't just been sitting on his thumbs this past week. He'd taken that sample into the lab and studied it and studied it. It also helped that his family raised chickens. There was no denying that he'd pulled a downy feather out of the man's back...but he liked to think that Jeff just maybe had a weird home life and it hadn't actually been caused by him.
This was not shaping up to look good for Maurice. He could almost feel the handcuffs around his wrists as he warmed his hands.
"I-I wan't you to know that whatever's going on, you're still gettin' paid."
Jeff blinked at Maurice in confusion, his head cocking abruptly to one side. "Still get--? Oh. Right. Sure." It seemed that money was not high on the list of concerns at the moment. Probably another bad sign. Yet another was the fact that once he was inside, he headed straight back to his usual exam room, flicking the lights on himself.
When Maurice caught up his patient was already undressing. "It's easiest to just show you, Maurice," he said, voice muffled as he pulled his sweater off over his head, exposing his back.
There was, at least, a sliver of good news. His burns were healing beautifully, with the skin on the edges looking pink and new. The bad news was that the quills had not, as the chemist had hoped, fallen out on their own. On the contrary, they seemed to have flourished on the new salve, growing to a beautiful set of mature, iridescent feathers that was now spreading across his shoulders and up to nearly the nape of his neck.
The worst of it though was something new, right where the feathers had first begun to sprout last week. Two somethings, to be specific, each barely six inches long, that twitched and spasmed as new nerve endings made connections to his spine. Even underdeveloped as they were, the shape was unmistakable. Jeff was growing wings.
He peered over his shoulder at Maurice, searching the other man's face. "This can't be what it looks like, right?" he pleaded.
Maurice's face was a landscape of sheer terror and confusion. He hadn't even gotten one latex glove on. He just stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as the little winglets. It took him a few tries to stop looking like a bass.
"I--this--" He fought to get the glove onto his hand as he inched cautiously towards Jeff as though he were a bomb about to go off. "I though..."
Every sentence he started died on his tongue. He did this to another human. He did this. Maurice couldn't imagine the fear and betrayal Jeff must be feeling. He came to him for help and this is what he gave him, healing burns or no.
But then a second, oily voice inside him leaned down to whisper he did this once again. He did something science has never dreamed of. He gave a man wings! Something man has lusted after for centuries! And that begged the question...how far could this go?
Startled by the fact that he was host to more greed than he previously thought, Maurice swallowed and held up a hand, motioning for Jeff to wait. He disappeared from the exam room only to return with a large bottle cradled in the crook of one arm and two small glasses in-hand.
He deflated a bit at Maurice's expression. "...Shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I was really hoping I was seeing things." Any further commentary was halted when Maurice held up his hand, and Jeff simply nodded and waited for the chemist to return.
Which he did.
With booze.
That was definitely not a good sign.
He eyed the bottle and glasses a moment, then reached out a hand to take one. That odd statement about still getting paid was starting to make a bit more sense now, and he narrowed his eyes. "I have a feeling," he began evenly; far too evenly, in fact. It was the tone of voice one used when one was expecting to become very, very angry in the next few moments. "That I'm going to need a much bigger glass before this conversation is over. But yes. Let's think about this, shall we?"
The chemist shrank a little under Jeff's calm tone. He almost wished the other man were yelling at him. That would make this feel less like a horrible dream.
He unstopped the bottle and poured them both a generous share before sinking against the little standing sink of the makeshift exam room. He didn't say anything until he'd emptied his glass a few times over.
Eventually, Maurice rubbed a thumb under one eye where stress tears had been forming and coughed.
"Okay so...we've got some options...dependin' on whether or not you're gonna sue me."
Jeff remained silent as well, watching Maurice without expression as he matched him drink for drink. The taste was vile, and the heartburn it gave him as it traveled down his throat was worse, but he forced it down anyway. He hoped it would steady him, but even after slamming down two glasses all he was getting was a slight flush to his cheeks.
He straightened slightly when Maurice began; Options, yeah, options are good. There was a brief, wild flicker of hope before Jeff was sent crashing down to earth with the second half of the statement. His eyes widened as it sank in, and the red in his cheeks deepened.
"...Sue you," he repeated, incredulously. His hand was trembling now as he threw back another shot. This time it hit his stomach with a surprising warmth that spread through him like a hot bath, but the comfort it finally brought him was too little, too late.
"Sue you? That's what you're worried about?" Now he was yelling, his hands gripping the examination table beneath him. "I'm growing wings and fucking feathers like some kind of...of mutant fancy chicken and all you can think of is money?" The tiny wings on his back flapped as he shouted, completely out of his control. "You unbelievable asshol--"
FWOOMPH!
There was, once again, both good news and bad news. The good news was that Jeff was no longer shouting. The bad news? Jeff was now breathing fire.
Maurice hadn't been athletic since his high school days, but when Jeff turned on him and got his hackles up, the chemist let out a yelp and clambered backwards onto the counter's edge. Plastic cups of swabs and papers tumbled to the floor. This was it. this was how he died.
"It's not about money! It's about me not being able to do anything about it if I'm in jail!"
His eyes rolled upwards to the foam ceiling and the black spot that had formed. Oh, he hoped Jeff didn't set off the fire alarms with his temper.
The explosion was quickly snuffed as Jeff clamped both hands over his mouth with a squeak of sheer terror. He froze completely for almost a full minute, not even daring to breathe for fear of setting off another explosion. When the need for oxygen forced him to start again, a few fitful, blue flames accompanied the careful exhales, but eventually even they petered out. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his hands.
He was shaking like a leaf, the color drained completely from his face. For a while he just breathed, deep, controlled careful breaths at first that slowly returned to normal respiration. "What...just...happened?" he finally squeaked.
Meanwhile, atop the sink, Maurice's knee started to quake. Sitting like some kind of backwards gargoyle was straining him and as the silence grew between them he started to worry less about the fire alarm and more about whether or not Jeff was actually going to go nuclear.
But he didn't.
And eventually, words instead of flames passed between them.
"I--you breathed some...kind of...Godzilla fire?" It was the only thing he could think of. "Did...it hurt? Are you o--I know you're not okay but did that injure you? Did--" Maurice's eyes suddenly widened and he reached for his glass. "It was the whiskey! It...it caught fire! That has to be it!"
In some ways it was a relief that Maurice was just as baffled as Jeff was. Whatever had been done to him, it was clear that it wasn't on purpose. He had to think a moment, licking his lips and mentally taking an inventory of his mouth and throat. "No, actually," he replied, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline in surprise. "I mean...it should have, but I feel fine."
The chemist's theory was as good as any, but there was a slight flaw in it. "I suppose that kind of makes sense," he said slowly. "But I mean...sure whiskey's flammable but it doesn't normally catch fire when inside somebody's stomach." Beat. "On the other hand, I also appear to be growing new limbs at the moment, so uh...I think science as I know it isn't going to help much."
Maurice brushed his bangs out of his face as he thought/continued to panic and wound up just playing with his hair. Jeff couldn't have just made fire out of nothing, whiskey or no whiskey! But he did. And he'd been angry.
"Okay. I guess. To avoid that happening again, we should do what we can to keep your, uhm, temper in check."
Maurice slowly climbed down from the sink, though his knees still quaked. He was quiet a moment longer before thatching his fingers together and scarcely avoiding bursting into tears.
"Jeff, I am so sorry! None of this was supposed to happen! I was trying to create a burn salve, I swear to God I was! I don't know what's happening!"
"Uh..." He definitely hadn't expected to be the one doing the consoling during this visit, but today was already full of surprises. He took a deep breath, clearing his head. His exhale was hot, far hotter than it should have been, but no longer in danger of igniting. "...Okay," he finally said. "Let's...let's just...try to stay calm. Both of us. We can think this through."
Easier said than done, however. Jeff was completely out of his depth when talking about both chemistry and...whatever was happening to him now. Google had, unsurprisingly, been little help as well. "Maybe you should tell me a little more about what you were trying to do. How was this thing supposed to work? Some kind of genetic manipulation, maybe?"
"...Magic." That too-calm voice was back, and his hackles rose again. The tiny wings spread themselves in what might have been a threat display as Jeff glared at the other man, studying his face carefully.
After a tense moment, his feathers relaxed, and he leaned back, blinking. "You're not joking," he realized aloud. What Maurice said was clearly preposterous, of course, but as far as Jeff could tell he was absolutely sincere. He glanced at the whiskey longingly, but thought better of it and reached for his sweater instead.
"Okay. Let's say this is...magic," he sighed. I cannot believe I just said that out loud. "There's a way to reverse this, right? Some kind of...counter-spell or something?"
"I don't know!" Maurice blurted and raked his fingers through his bangs anxiously. "Okay, okay so. So listen. A buddy of mine really likes estate sales because he's...I dunno. Kind of a weirdo. And he managed to get ahold of this funky old book for real cheap and he knew that my girlfriend's buddies do tabletop and their DM's birthday is coming up and it seemed like something he'd get a big kick out of. So I asked if I could have it and I was going to pass it along to Meranda so I brought it to the office for the night since I was doing an all-nighter and I was getting really frustrated and I might have read something from it aloud at random for shits and giggles?"
He sucked in a huge gasp, having spat everything out in one breath before daring to look Jeff in the eye again.
He listened as Maurice's story spilled out, what little confidence he still had draining out of him as he rambled. Jeff rubbed his face with both hands, slumping in defeat. "Jesus. Fucking. Wept," he groaned. "And...you're positive this isn't something in the salve, right?" He supposed he should be angry, but he just couldn't manage it. The whole conversation tired him out; at this point he just wanted to go back to bed and try to forget all this ever happened.
"All right, Maurice," he sighed. "If you think it'll help, get that book back. I'll give you a chance to fix this your way. For now." There was both resignation in his voice, and an unspoken warning: You'd better not fuck this up.
When they last parted ways, Maurice had given Jeff his personal number and instructions to keep him updated on any...changes.
It took over a week to get the book and when he finally called Jeff with the news and set up another appointment, it wasn't a dusty old tome that Maurice had spread across his lap when he looked up from his desk. It was a ridiculously thick stack of xerox paper.
Maurice himself looked like he had undergone a change himself--though not a magical one. Bags that wouldn't fit into any overhead compartment hung under his eyes and the start of a modest beard ringed his neck.
"Hi, Maurice." Jeff's voice was muffled behind a scarf that concealed most of his face, and the reason became obvious as he shed the oversized clothes concealing his...condition.
Most of it would come to no surprise to Maurice, as Jeff had been very diligent in keeping him appraised. The feathers had spread up his neck, and his jaw was dusted with silvery-black down that made an interesting contrast to the other man's beard. The irises of his eyes had expanded to eclipse the whites completely, the color changing to a mottled orange ringed with black. The pupils glowed a dull red, flaring as he removed his sunglasses.
His wings had grown to the point that wearing a shirt was now almost impossible, and even the coat he'd worn to hide them left him looking like a hunchback. His wingspan was nearly four feet now, and he seemed to have a great deal more conscious control over them. New patches of feathers had sprouted on his shoulders, chest, and stomach, and the beginning of what would surely be a magnificent tail forced him to wear his jeans low on his hips.
He pulled off his gloves as he sat down, revealing a wicked set of talons. "I really hope you have good news for me," he said worriedly. "At the rate this is going I'm not going to be able to leave the house before too long."
Maurice found his hand moving to his own throat when Jeff's talons appeared. He'd read the message, sure, but he'd never imagined how deadly they would look in person.
Suddenly Maurice stopped worrying about being sued and going to jail. He worried about ending up like an upturned armadillo on the side of the road with a bronze buzzard pulling out his guts with a sharp hooked beak instead.
"Well...I mean. Th' sayin' goes that no news is good news." He forced a strained, toothy grin. It soon faded though and he scrubbed under one eye. "I've been looking for anything that seems familiar...it's going to take a while."
He leaned forward to offer a chunk of pages to Jeff to examine. The writing, while clearly in a familiar alphabet, was incredibly small and written in a cramped hand.
"And just so you don't have to worry about growing another head or something I've..." Maurice frowned, a lump suddenly forming in the pit of his empty stomach. "Ordered some mice."
Jeff looked down at his hands self-consciously and hugged himself, tucking his claws beneath his arms. "Sorry," he murmured. He seemed to shrink into himself more and more as Maurice gave him the bad news. "And there's...no way to slow this thing down?" he pleaded. "I mean...I'm kind of running on a timer here. What happens if I lose my hands? Or...I can't talk any more? What if this thing starts affecting my mind?" That was the most horrifying thought of all, and he shuddered.
Eager to distract himself from his quickly-darkening thoughts, he gave the pages a closer look. "And there's nobody you can ask for help with this thing?" he asked. "Maybe the guy your friend bought it from? Hell, I know a bit about medieval folklore, I guess I could be another set of eyes for a while?"
"I don't know," Maurice couldn't keep himself from snapping. He was running on no sleep and no food. "I didn't know anything like this even existed in the world until now."
He heaved a sigh as Jeff rattled off a list of very real concerns.
"It was an estate sale. That person is dead." Did his own magic consume him? WE'LL NEVER KNOW! OOoOoOOoO! "If you think you can help, be my guest."
Maurice dropped his scruffy chin into a hand and started going through the pages one at a time.
"I just hope the magic is in the words and not in the book itself...oh and. For sanity's sake, try not to read any word you don't recognize out loud...hell I might not even have pronounced the thing right to begin with."
Did that make him a surprise wizard? Maurice doubted it. His head swam a little at the thought, the sudden buck in his chest. They had something of great mystery and power between them.
Jeff pulled his wings in tighter and cocked his head to one side, bird-like. The glow in his eyes brightened as he studied Maurice with a worried expression. He reached out a hand, then remembered his claws and thought better of it. Sheepishly, he returned his hands to his lap. "When was the last time you slept, Maurice? No offense, but you look awful."
"Sleep is for people who don't turn innocent folks into birds, Jeff. I've got to fix this."
He hoped his drive to help Jeff was a true and earnest thing and not just the thirst for knowledge. If he could do it and undo it to one person...
"You're the patient here, not me. Have there been any changes since we spoke last?" Maurice paused and squinted at a page before rubbing one of his eyes. Hmm. No. The picture that page was much too scary. He flipped onward.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toothaches) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
theattic2016-12-11 03:01 pm
no subject
At least he'd fared better than his house. Nothing was left of that but a sodden lump of timbers, scorched brick and melted plastic. A few scars (...okay, a lot of scars) on his back? Small price to pay for not being burned alive. Even if he did get stuck with some fly-by-night chemist with aspirations toward mad science.
But god-damned if that anti-burn goop of his hadn't actually worked. Or if it didn't, it sure felt a hell of a lot better than it had a week ago. Hopefully Maurice would have good news when he examined it properly. If he was really lucky, he might even be able to do something about the horrific itching that had started up.
He fidgeted, willing himself not to scratch what little he could reach. Leave it alone, Jeff, he told himself sternly. Itching means that it's healing, right?
...Right?
no subject
He wasn't alone for very long. A few inner doors of the office opened and closed and soon the chemist himself appeared, a simple breathing mask dangling around his neck. Something was staining the cuffs of his scrubs but THAT WASN'T IMPORTANT. He quickly plopped into his chair and rolled to the computer, rapidly tapped a few keys before peering over his bobbing drinky bird and nodding to Jeff.
"Sorry about the wait, I got tied up looking at some samples. How are we doin' today?"
no subject
Ugh, right between the goddamn shoulder blades.
"The pain's gone way down since last time. I haven't needed the good stuff in a couple of days." As relaxing as the Vicodin was, he preferred a clear head. "Just ibuprofen and the stuff you gave me. Mostly it just itches now."
no subject
The exam room was, like all exam rooms, uncomfortably cold and small, decorated with what few medical posters Maurice could find along with a few notices about insurance. He did his very best to make the joint look professional even though it was wedged very tightly between Pepper's Pizza and the laundromat.
"I'm gonna need you to hop right on up here and take your shirt off." Maurice turned to the little sink stand and grabbed a cotton swab and a pair of gloves.
no subject
Oddly, the room seemed even colder than usual. Gooseflesh raised on his arms as he unbuttoned his shirt, and he was visibly shivering. "Are we going to try refrigerating me next?" he joked, folding his shirt into a neat bundle on his lap and turning so Maurice could easily reach his back.
no subject
"Let's hope not! We usually just refrigerate folks that don't--" He cut himself off.
The burns were still there--some of them healing quite niceley. In school he'd seen some nasty scars on slides and even a few in person but none of them had looked quite so...prickly. Wait.
"This might not be fun, I think your dressings got caught when the wound was scabbing over."
He groped behind himself and grabbed up some tweezers from the table and leaned in close to grab one of the delicate shafts growing out of the man's back.
"Big stick." He yanked.
no subject
The growths were densest along his spine just below the shoulder blades, spreading out a few inches to either side at the top and tapering to a point just above the middle of his back. More could be seen beneath the skin around the edges. The pattern of warm color along the tips would be pretty if they weren't...y'know...growing out of someone's back.
"Aheh. Sorry about that," Jeff said, hugging himself sheepishly. "Those dressings really got dug in there, didn't they?" His tone was light, but a bit shaken. He seemed oblivious to his true predicament, however.
no subject
He glanced back at Jeff's apparent hackles and suddenly realized he'd sprung a leak.
"Uhp! No, I'm sorry, let me get that real quick." With swab and alcohol, he quickly dabbed at the place he'd yanked out the feather. Luckily he hadn't broken the shaft of things would have been worse. His eyes traveled along the dull shapes just below the skin.
More alcohol was brought out to clear away the small bits of discharge and dead skin--and also so he could see the colors of...whatever this was more clearly.
"I think. I'm going to give you a different sort of dressing so that when you lean against your chair you won't have to worry."
no subject
no subject
Maurice quickly put away the sample he stole and brought out a small clear plastic jar full of the salve he'd been developing.
"It's...pretty remarkable." He tried to keep the squeak out of his voice. This wasn't happening. It was just the fumes. He'd read that book for a laugh and because he was drunk. He was going to wake up tomorrow and laugh at himself. "There's probably not going to be a scar at all...your scabs are still a little rough so this should soften the dead skin."
It was...tempting to snag another totally-not-a-feather but he didn't want to cause Jeff any distress. Especially if he saw.
One week later...
The good news was that he didn't look angry. He was dressed far too warmly for the weather, but still hugged himself as though he were freezing. "Oh thank God you're here." His expression looked more relieved than anything else. "Something...uh..." He wrung his gloved hands fretfully, looking around as if he was afraid he'd be overheard. His movements were off, somehow. Quick and jerky.
"Something...happened," he finally managed. "I need to see you right away."
no subject
The chemist had scarcely taken out the office key when Jeff closed the gap between them. He wasn't scheduled for today.
"O-oh? Sure, sure, just--let me get the lights on, are you alright?" The stone turned into a led brick of dread as he jimmied open the door and lit the chilly office.
Maurice hadn't just been sitting on his thumbs this past week. He'd taken that sample into the lab and studied it and studied it. It also helped that his family raised chickens. There was no denying that he'd pulled a downy feather out of the man's back...but he liked to think that Jeff just maybe had a weird home life and it hadn't actually been caused by him.
This was not shaping up to look good for Maurice. He could almost feel the handcuffs around his wrists as he warmed his hands.
"I-I wan't you to know that whatever's going on, you're still gettin' paid."
no subject
When Maurice caught up his patient was already undressing. "It's easiest to just show you, Maurice," he said, voice muffled as he pulled his sweater off over his head, exposing his back.
There was, at least, a sliver of good news. His burns were healing beautifully, with the skin on the edges looking pink and new. The bad news was that the quills had not, as the chemist had hoped, fallen out on their own. On the contrary, they seemed to have flourished on the new salve, growing to a beautiful set of mature, iridescent feathers that was now spreading across his shoulders and up to nearly the nape of his neck.
The worst of it though was something new, right where the feathers had first begun to sprout last week. Two somethings, to be specific, each barely six inches long, that twitched and spasmed as new nerve endings made connections to his spine. Even underdeveloped as they were, the shape was unmistakable. Jeff was growing wings.
He peered over his shoulder at Maurice, searching the other man's face. "This can't be what it looks like, right?" he pleaded.
no subject
"I--this--" He fought to get the glove onto his hand as he inched cautiously towards Jeff as though he were a bomb about to go off. "I though..."
Every sentence he started died on his tongue. He did this to another human. He did this. Maurice couldn't imagine the fear and betrayal Jeff must be feeling. He came to him for help and this is what he gave him, healing burns or no.
But then a second, oily voice inside him leaned down to whisper he did this once again. He did something science has never dreamed of. He gave a man wings! Something man has lusted after for centuries! And that begged the question...how far could this go?
Startled by the fact that he was host to more greed than he previously thought, Maurice swallowed and held up a hand, motioning for Jeff to wait. He disappeared from the exam room only to return with a large bottle cradled in the crook of one arm and two small glasses in-hand.
"L-let's thing about this."
no subject
Which he did.
With booze.
That was definitely not a good sign.
He eyed the bottle and glasses a moment, then reached out a hand to take one. That odd statement about still getting paid was starting to make a bit more sense now, and he narrowed his eyes. "I have a feeling," he began evenly; far too evenly, in fact. It was the tone of voice one used when one was expecting to become very, very angry in the next few moments. "That I'm going to need a much bigger glass before this conversation is over. But yes. Let's think about this, shall we?"
no subject
He unstopped the bottle and poured them both a generous share before sinking against the little standing sink of the makeshift exam room. He didn't say anything until he'd emptied his glass a few times over.
Eventually, Maurice rubbed a thumb under one eye where stress tears had been forming and coughed.
"Okay so...we've got some options...dependin' on whether or not you're gonna sue me."
no subject
He straightened slightly when Maurice began; Options, yeah, options are good. There was a brief, wild flicker of hope before Jeff was sent crashing down to earth with the second half of the statement. His eyes widened as it sank in, and the red in his cheeks deepened.
"...Sue you," he repeated, incredulously. His hand was trembling now as he threw back another shot. This time it hit his stomach with a surprising warmth that spread through him like a hot bath, but the comfort it finally brought him was too little, too late.
"Sue you? That's what you're worried about?" Now he was yelling, his hands gripping the examination table beneath him. "I'm growing wings and fucking feathers like some kind of...of mutant fancy chicken and all you can think of is money?" The tiny wings on his back flapped as he shouted, completely out of his control. "You unbelievable asshol--"
FWOOMPH!
There was, once again, both good news and bad news. The good news was that Jeff was no longer shouting. The bad news? Jeff was now breathing fire.
no subject
"It's not about money! It's about me not being able to do anything about it if I'm in jail!"
His eyes rolled upwards to the foam ceiling and the black spot that had formed. Oh, he hoped Jeff didn't set off the fire alarms with his temper.
no subject
He was shaking like a leaf, the color drained completely from his face. For a while he just breathed, deep, controlled careful breaths at first that slowly returned to normal respiration. "What...just...happened?" he finally squeaked.
no subject
But he didn't.
And eventually, words instead of flames passed between them.
"I--you breathed some...kind of...Godzilla fire?" It was the only thing he could think of. "Did...it hurt? Are you o--I know you're not okay but did that injure you? Did--" Maurice's eyes suddenly widened and he reached for his glass. "It was the whiskey! It...it caught fire! That has to be it!"
no subject
The chemist's theory was as good as any, but there was a slight flaw in it. "I suppose that kind of makes sense," he said slowly. "But I mean...sure whiskey's flammable but it doesn't normally catch fire when inside somebody's stomach." Beat. "On the other hand, I also appear to be growing new limbs at the moment, so uh...I think science as I know it isn't going to help much."
no subject
Maurice brushed his bangs out of his face as he thought/continued to panic and wound up just playing with his hair. Jeff couldn't have just made fire out of nothing, whiskey or no whiskey! But he did. And he'd been angry.
"Okay. I guess. To avoid that happening again, we should do what we can to keep your, uhm, temper in check."
Maurice slowly climbed down from the sink, though his knees still quaked. He was quiet a moment longer before thatching his fingers together and scarcely avoiding bursting into tears.
"Jeff, I am so sorry! None of this was supposed to happen! I was trying to create a burn salve, I swear to God I was! I don't know what's happening!"
no subject
Easier said than done, however. Jeff was completely out of his depth when talking about both chemistry and...whatever was happening to him now. Google had, unsurprisingly, been little help as well. "Maybe you should tell me a little more about what you were trying to do. How was this thing supposed to work? Some kind of genetic manipulation, maybe?"
no subject
Maurice fumbled with a sleeve.
"I was just trying to promote healthy skin growth and ease pain..."
He suddenly sucked his lips inward as realization flashed across his face. It was time to pour himself another shaky shot before blurting out,
"I may have used magic?"
no subject
After a tense moment, his feathers relaxed, and he leaned back, blinking. "You're not joking," he realized aloud. What Maurice said was clearly preposterous, of course, but as far as Jeff could tell he was absolutely sincere. He glanced at the whiskey longingly, but thought better of it and reached for his sweater instead.
"Okay. Let's say this is...magic," he sighed. I cannot believe I just said that out loud. "There's a way to reverse this, right? Some kind of...counter-spell or something?"
no subject
He sucked in a huge gasp, having spat everything out in one breath before daring to look Jeff in the eye again.
"I can get it back."
no subject
"All right, Maurice," he sighed. "If you think it'll help, get that book back. I'll give you a chance to fix this your way. For now." There was both resignation in his voice, and an unspoken warning: You'd better not fuck this up.
no subject
It took over a week to get the book and when he finally called Jeff with the news and set up another appointment, it wasn't a dusty old tome that Maurice had spread across his lap when he looked up from his desk. It was a ridiculously thick stack of xerox paper.
Maurice himself looked like he had undergone a change himself--though not a magical one. Bags that wouldn't fit into any overhead compartment hung under his eyes and the start of a modest beard ringed his neck.
"Good morning..."
no subject
Most of it would come to no surprise to Maurice, as Jeff had been very diligent in keeping him appraised. The feathers had spread up his neck, and his jaw was dusted with silvery-black down that made an interesting contrast to the other man's beard. The irises of his eyes had expanded to eclipse the whites completely, the color changing to a mottled orange ringed with black. The pupils glowed a dull red, flaring as he removed his sunglasses.
His wings had grown to the point that wearing a shirt was now almost impossible, and even the coat he'd worn to hide them left him looking like a hunchback. His wingspan was nearly four feet now, and he seemed to have a great deal more conscious control over them. New patches of feathers had sprouted on his shoulders, chest, and stomach, and the beginning of what would surely be a magnificent tail forced him to wear his jeans low on his hips.
He pulled off his gloves as he sat down, revealing a wicked set of talons. "I really hope you have good news for me," he said worriedly. "At the rate this is going I'm not going to be able to leave the house before too long."
no subject
Suddenly Maurice stopped worrying about being sued and going to jail. He worried about ending up like an upturned armadillo on the side of the road with a bronze buzzard pulling out his guts with a sharp hooked beak instead.
"Well...I mean. Th' sayin' goes that no news is good news." He forced a strained, toothy grin. It soon faded though and he scrubbed under one eye. "I've been looking for anything that seems familiar...it's going to take a while."
He leaned forward to offer a chunk of pages to Jeff to examine. The writing, while clearly in a familiar alphabet, was incredibly small and written in a cramped hand.
"And just so you don't have to worry about growing another head or something I've..." Maurice frowned, a lump suddenly forming in the pit of his empty stomach. "Ordered some mice."
no subject
Eager to distract himself from his quickly-darkening thoughts, he gave the pages a closer look. "And there's nobody you can ask for help with this thing?" he asked. "Maybe the guy your friend bought it from? Hell, I know a bit about medieval folklore, I guess I could be another set of eyes for a while?"
no subject
He heaved a sigh as Jeff rattled off a list of very real concerns.
"It was an estate sale. That person is dead." Did his own magic consume him? WE'LL NEVER KNOW! OOoOoOOoO! "If you think you can help, be my guest."
Maurice dropped his scruffy chin into a hand and started going through the pages one at a time.
"I just hope the magic is in the words and not in the book itself...oh and. For sanity's sake, try not to read any word you don't recognize out loud...hell I might not even have pronounced the thing right to begin with."
Did that make him a surprise wizard? Maurice doubted it. His head swam a little at the thought, the sudden buck in his chest. They had something of great mystery and power between them.
no subject
no subject
"Sleep is for people who don't turn innocent folks into birds, Jeff. I've got to fix this."
He hoped his drive to help Jeff was a true and earnest thing and not just the thirst for knowledge. If he could do it and undo it to one person...
"You're the patient here, not me. Have there been any changes since we spoke last?" Maurice paused and squinted at a page before rubbing one of his eyes. Hmm. No. The picture that page was much too scary. He flipped onward.