Momentum [(UNDERTAKER X READER)]

#35 - The Good Doctor

Routine was inevitable. Every day I was to wake up, have breakfast with the most charming mortician in the world, and head to the Hospital to work on corpses, under the guise of scientific research (which wasn't entirely wrong). At lunchtime, I'd take a stroll to the pub on the harbor side, have a nice fresh meal, stride back lazily, write reports about the day's products and address them all to Stocker, making sure to take copies for Undertaker to study back home. Leave from work, take the longer path through one of the cemeteries, cry or sigh my heart out, relieving a bit of the pent up stress and go back home, to be received with hugs and kisses and a hot meal. Afterwards, we would head to bed - more often than not, we did it on the same room. Rinse, repeat.

Just like that, a day became a week, and a week became a month.

After everything we went through, presumably one could only be happy to be able to leave the very place they had to cremate a familiar, no?

Well... I wish it was that simple.

Truth is, I miss the shop. And I miss staying with Undertaker, learning directly from him.

He was so warm in personality, always wanted to see me laughing, always touched me right when I wanted, as if he could read my mind. He was always eager to listen to my random explanations even if he had little to no interest in the subject. I love his riddles, I love the sound of his laughter, I love the way he dances and goofs around. I love his very silent company, while reading something unrelated to work sitting on the pillow pile under the window on cold nights, both of us in sweet silence, doing nothing together.

Yet every single one of those things waned. Almost vanished. Now I spend the whole day working, only being able to see him for breakfast and dinner. We didn't read anymore. We couldn't dance, for I was always tired. We couldn't study corpses together anymore. I didn't have the time or energy to explain my discoveries to him. And he wouldn't dare do it either. I never said I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew that look all too well. He didn't want to overwhelm me with information. He was worried.

It was even worse because I couldn't take weekends off. Since I was a trainee under Stocker, I needed to be there every single day. He would teach me how to use the hospital's equipments - no doubt very different from the Yard's. More technological, more resourceful. After all, we were being funded by a variety of socialites and nobles. But "we have to make their funds wield results, as quickly as it comes in.", insists Stocker. "If we do it fast, the flow never stops."

Well I never asked for it, thank you very much, sir.

But I knew I had to handle it. At least for Undertaker.

...is what I told myself to pretend I believed in a greater good. In the end, it's not half bad that I can actually focus on work the whole time I'm in there. Helps me forget the longing.

And as much as Undertaker had a great role in this, it was actually... fun. It has bright sides, mind you, as almost everything does. I absolutely adore the thrill of discovering something new. Sometimes my mind can wander around cursed places, just for the sake of knowledge. After all, there is yet a whole infinite to find out about.

Like... if chosen not to open the body, the eyes are the first visible sign if the reanimation was successful. We knew it had to do with the nervous system, and Stocker sent the result to physicians who wanted to research more on the brain and its affiliate organs. 

How this very same resurrection system could actually work for every species of living beings with brains, as a consequence. 

How our body constitution is actually closer to that of a rat than of a regular monkey.

How social class and the food eaten by the person when alive would impact directly on the propagation of electrical waves in the body, which we sent to physicists for further analysis on conductivity.