The dry ground replaced the slick rocks from outside allowing your shoes to gain traction once again within the cave. You held your arms tight against yourself trying to retain what little body heat you had left. Inside you couldn't see much aside from the faint light from the grey sky behind you. You heard SCP-049 somewhere deep in the cave, and as much as you hated it you progressed further.

Water dripped from your hair, running down your face and onto the rocks below. The shadows engulfed you as you stepped out from the last bit of faded light peeking through the mouth of the cave.

Feeling your way around the cave you made it to where he was. He sat on the ground, already focused on something else in his bag. Your legs wabbled as you studied the cave, like he had said there didn't seem to be anything in here. It was silent excluding the pouring rain. An uneasy premonition seeped into your veins. Even with this uncertainty, your body very quickly overpowered your hesitation. Screaming at you to rest while you finally had the chance. Fumbling around in the dark you gave into your weary legs and found your place seated down on a rock.

The air burned your lungs from all the activity your body was far from used to, nor physically prepared to do with or without your injuries. Your eyes trailed down to the dark stones below you. The heaviness returned to your chest leaving your body and emotions weak from the stress you had to endure.

A numb, trembling hand touched your face as you wiped wet clumps of hair out from your eyes and sloppily tucked them behind your ear. Your stomach sank as another wave of regret hit you. You stared down at the floor losing yourself in thought. If only you had known. If you had known even half of what this job would have put you through you wouldn't have thought twice about staying where you were. Your old apartment that you sold to come here. Your father's old lab you abandoned just to take up a job that paid so much more. You would think the sketchy man in black would have tipped you off on what you were getting into.

An uncomfortable sadness hit you as your mind floated back to your father. Again, just his face alone was enough to discourage you. His crossed arms, door slams, and sometimes his yell had crushed your ambitions. You were never who he had wanted you to be. Even though in your eyes you were doing what he wanted. He wanted you to be like him, so you did.

It only made him angrier. He never laid a finger on you, yet the void of insecurity he had created persists through all these years from only his words. To this day you never understood what he truly wanted from you. If it wasn't being his successor in science than what? It was all he had talked about when he wasn't locked away in a lab somewhere.

Maybe it was the fact that you were too weak. Just not enough. It wouldn't be the first time someone called you that, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. I mean look at where you are now. Tired, scared, helpless all things he had always pointed out in you.

Nevertheless, he could still be dead. Maybe SCP-106 or something got to him right after he lost his finger. You told yourself despite the fear looming over you like some sort of ugly beast.

A surge of pain flew through your body forcing you out from your mind and back to the present. A quiet clicking noise echoed from across the cave. Your knees stuck close together to keep from trembling like the rest of your frail body. Your jeans were tight and uncomfortable after being in the rain and a red patch of blood stained your bitten leg. Your skinny jeans were now ripped with bloody holes revealing bite marks. You barely even noticed the extra pain in your leg until now. You could only guess that this pain was masked by the adrenaline that got you here in the first place.

Another click and a bright spark caught your eye illuminating the tip of SCP-049's mask. Your mouth dropped a little at the display. The two of you had only been in here for maybe 15 minutes and he had already somehow made a fire.

"How? Did you?" You questioned catching his attention.

He pointed over towards the back of the cave where you could faintly make out remains of a tree.

"Oh,"

The flames slowly grew until the cave's walls radiated with the orange light. Its flames growing as he placed the first logs into the fire. The warmth beckoned to your shivering form. Your legs nearly moved themselves to the heat, only to be stopped. It was obvious you needed it, but to do that you would have to again trust SCP-049. You could still feel some warmth from here, so maybe you were just close enough.

"Are you coming, Doctor?"

You shifted slightly, moving your legs again to get up but not fully committing. Even with your uncertainty he seemed to remain calm, he sat on his knees at the far side of the fire and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

He gave you a few moments before speaking again in a softer almost light tone.

"Come now, I can see you freezing from over here,"

Your legs were about to betray you when you finally stood. Unsteady and limping you made your way to the fires luring warmth. You nearly crashed down onto the stone ground.

"Your limping." His voice lost the softness from before.

"Yeah. I think it's from when that thing bit me,"

He stood up and walked around the fire to your side. He had barely begun to kneel beside you before you were startled away. You didn't get far though. Your arms and legs burned as well as your empty stomach. And your, what SCP-049 would call it, "reckless behavior" was yet again making it worse.

He sat back down after your display. His eyes piercing your soul.

"I can help you."

Your foot scrapped against the ground as you pushed away further. Small pebbles pricked your hands when you prepared to move away again. As much as he may claim to want to help everything in you was too scared to trust him. It would be so easy for him to turn on you. Glancing from your dark red leg to his medical bag you thought out loud.

"Can't I do it?" You nearly whispered.

"Pardon?"

"Can't I help myself?" You committed, your body tensing. "I mean, I know how to clean and wrap a wound,"

He studied your face, his eyes bitter as if you had said something offensive.

"I believe, it would be easier for you to just allow someone of my profession to do so. Wouldn't you say?"

"I.." You chose your words carefully. "I think that may be true, but I think I would really appreciate doing it myself." You thoughtfully articulated your words all the while watching for his reaction.

His eyes narrowed, and his back straightening. "Very well. If you insist." He reached into his bag and pulled out dressings and pieces of cloth.

"Here you are." He backed away into his previous spot leaving you to do it on your own.

A weight lifted from your chest allowing you to scoot over where he left the supplies. Sitting closer to the fire you started to pull up your holey pant leg. You feared how tight your skinny jeans would feel pulled so high on your leg. Pulling gently your breath caught in your throat when an intense pain seared your skin. Your pant leg had barely moved. The edges of the holes scraped against your wounds. The pain was enough for you to let the jean go.

The blood had dried, acting like glue securing your jeans to your exposed flesh. Some of the fabric had disappeared deep in your wounds. Your hand lightly traced the dried blood and pain almost up to your knee. You needed to cut them. Your eyes shot over to SCP-049. His golden orbs met yours for a moment only to switch their attention back to the fire, his expression knowing full well of your defeat.

Your face fell further as you watched fresh blood drop from the exposed wounds. Desperate you tried again gently tugging at your leg, your skin threatened to rip further. Your movement inflamed your ripping shoulder reminding you of more problems you needed to take care of.

Your hand fumbled with your sleeve, letting some of your building anxiety lose. "Do you have scissors?"

Soft rustling came from SCP-049 and before you knew it sharp medical scissors were in front of you. Reaching out you grabbed the tool and brought it up to your knee. Pulling the side of your jean out as far as possible you maneuvered the scissors around until you could clamp it around the fabric. You held your breath as you slowly cut into the tight jean the scissors sliced through until you could feel the cold metal lightly press against the side of your knee. Letting go you started again with the scissors, this time making your way around your knee counterclockwise. With shaky hands and all you made it halfway until you inevitably cut yourself, making you jump pulling the scissors away from your leg.

You recovered quickly, this time working in the opposite direction until all you had left was underneath your leg. You took a breath and felt your way around doing your best with what you had and trying to contort your body to see.

On your way around you felt the sharp point of the scissors poke the bottom of your knee scaring the scissors out from below you. Carefully you felt to see if any wound was made. Your shoulders dropped, your contorting had put a horrible strain on your already loosened stitches.

SCP-049 had only waited for you to nearly cut yourself a second time before speaking up.

"Are you ready to accept my help now?"

You sighed, staring down at your injured leg. If this wound was on anyone else, you might have been able to do it. But in the condition you were in, it wouldn't be smart to keep going. Avoiding eye contact, you slid the scissors and dressings closer to him. Holding yourself still you allowed him to walk back to you, crouching down next to your ankle he took back his scissors.

"Hold still."

Your hands held your arms tight against yourself as you watched him pull on the seam of your pant leg placing the scissors upwards facing your body. Your heart pounded hard in your chest as slowly he made his way up your leg, clipping carefully up towards your knee. Gently pinching the fabric and avoiding your skin.

Your muscles went stiff, fighting against the urge to move away from the cool metal. As he passed your wound, even his light pulls were enough to want to jump from both the pain and his touch. You closed your eyes the higher he traveled, turning your head away.

Your face scrunched up when you felt him reach underneath your leg and clip the last bit of fabric from below your knee. Pulling back the fabric he unraveled the cut patch. Getting to the wound he slowed his movements holding down your skin while mindfully pulling the stuck clothing. You held back a scream when he pulled off the jean along with the beginning of a scab. Your hand clenched a ball of your jacket as he pulled the fabric out from the rest of the searing teeth marks.

He reached back into his bag to bring out a pair of tweezers. You bit down on your wrist as he carefully took out the deep severed chunks of fabric stuck under in your flesh. Each pull shook you and the pain brought tears to your eyes. You focused on nothing but your breathing as he worked. Trying to distract yourself but taking in deep breaths on and out. A smaller chunk was lodged deep in your skin, right above your ankle. The bloody metal of the tweezers gripped the fabric, the textured jean raked slowly out from your leg.

Your breathing began to calm as the last bit of jean was separated from your flesh. The wound still stung, but the cool air soothed the burning for only a moment. SCP-049 turned to his bandages working to get them partially unraveled and around your leg. He held the bandage close to your wound for a second before quickly setting them back down as if he forgot something.

"You probably need these cleaned don't you?"

"Yeah,"

"Yes, of course." He opened his bag again. "You see I'm not particularly used to treating those who are still living. Generally I like to avoid it when I can."

A sick feeling hit your gut as your bullet wounds came to mind. Had he cleaned those? Or were they an infection waiting to happen? In fact did he ever sterilize his tools? Feeling a sense of urgency you spoke up.

"You cleaned my bullet wounds. Right?"

"Yes, yes. No need to worry," he waved his hand submissively. You held your shoulder, his answer didn't soothe your suspicions.

He pulled out a rag and a small pan. Taking a few steps away he collected some rain water then come back. Before you knew it a cold cloth was draped over your leg, wiping the blood and dirt from your wound. Your mouth stayed pressed shut as you fought against both the sting and the pain.

You watched him clean off most of your wound before your mouth opened again.

"Why don't you like helping those who are still alive?"

His eyes hardened. "Many reasons," you could feel his grip on the cloth tighten. "One of them being my cure requires them to already be deceased,"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, so it wouldn't work if they were alive?"

He was quiet for a minute before he replied.

"I assume if they could survive my treatment, yes. My cure would be administered all the same." His gaze looked almost solumn as if he was remembering something.

"But watching them suffer as they would isn't my goal. So, in the end I find it more efficient to put them to sleep first."

You studied what you could see of his face. His solumn expression was quickly masked by one full of purpose. Your stomach hurt at the thought of him operating on an awake and living person. As horrible as that thought is, killing them isn't really ideal either.

"So, if your cure kills them. How does that help?"

"My cure saves them. I save them." His voice was now void of emotion. "It's a price to pay for the greater good,"

He placed a couple patches of cloth over your wounds. Covering each bite mark.

"You didn't kill me though,"

"Of course not." He paused again. "You're in no need of my cure, I don't sense the pestilence within you." His shoulders moved with irritation. Shaking his head he continued. "You shouldn't use that word. I no longer think it's accurate to what I do. I don't kill. I don't, all of my patients come back. And they come back new, they come back pure." He no longer sounded like he was speaking to you.

He squeezed his dressings, his breathing became labored. Your eyes widened watching his demeanor shift to a more aggressive tone.

"Despite popular belief my intention isn't to hurt... It can't be."

Though his demeanor had frightened you at first, something about is voice was so sincere. It wasn't the same as his usual mood swings. He looked as if he was in pain. As if something more was eating at him than it outwardly appeared. Your eyes softened as a wave of empathy pinched your heart.

"I believe you,"

He tensed, "No, you don't,"

"Why do-"

"Actions speak louder than words, Doctor (L/N)." He snapped.

You flinched, opening your mouth again to argue only to end up biting your tongue. He wasn't wrong, you had done everything in your power to stay away from him. It was only logical that he would assume that you thought that of him. But just because you kept your distance didn't mean you thought he was evil nor that he had bad intentions. From what you understood he wouldn't hurt someone if he didn't think it was for a good reason. Even if he is truly in the wrong. You just couldn't trust his stability, nor did you know what made him decide someone had the pestilence. His mood could flip like a coin.

At the same time though, you neglected a lot of what he has done because of that. Now, as a result your fear has made him even more annoyed with you, at least from what you've noticed.

Your left hand gripped your opposite arm. Choosing to stay quiet. What were you supposed to say? You couldn't promise that you could suddenly always act like you thought he was completely safe. And Even if you did, that could also end badly. He tied the end of your bandage securing it in place. The white bandage reflected the light of the fire into your eyes. A hint of guilt sunk in your stomach, unfortunately you hadn't exactly been the most grateful towards him either. If you had the chance earlier, would you have abandoned him? If that door didn't close so fast and you got through. What would you have done?

In a strange way, you hoped you wouldn't have abandoned him. That you would have been brave enough to go back. But you guess you'll never really know.

But you did know he would. He already had in a way, even though you saw no benefit in him doing so. If anything you had caused him more trouble than if he had just left you bleeding out on the floor.

"Why are you doing this?" You eventually asked.

"I have my reasons,"

You shifted slightly after his abrupt response thinking of how to respond. Your curiosity was piqued but, his reply stopped you from pressing forward.

"Well. Whatever they are, thank you." You said softly.

His yellow eyes finally met yours. They shifted back to his usual calm gaze, though this time, it still harbored the pain from before.

"You're welcome."

He looked away tracing a finger across fresh claw marks lining his cloak. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. Your hand had long since let go of your injured arm, letting your shoulder sag. It had already begun to itch. You studied his still form beside you. He was close enough to touch yet your muscles were relaxed. He didn't feel the same to you anymore. The hurt you saw in him, it wasn't what you expected.

"Umm." You couldn't believe what you were about to say. "Do you think you could check on my shoulder?"

He looked at you as if you said something in another language. His eyes picked you apart as if searching to find some sort of joke.

"I think the stitches are coming undone,"

His body calmed taking on a lighter disposition.

"Very well, let me see,"

Turning your body towards him you unzipped your jacket enough to show him your shoulder.

______

Your body lay uncomfortably on it's side facing the fire. Your shoulder and side burned from SCP-049 restitching and re-bandaging what had come undone. It wasn't as bad as you had feared, only a few stitches were loose. And from what you saw, it looked like he did in fact clean them like he said.

Your eyes drifted to him, he sat across from you on his own, you didn't think he was going to be sleeping anytime soon. Which was almost preferable for you, it would be nice to have someone watching in case the forest decided to throw something else at you. It had been all too quiet ever since the rain started. SCP-049 was alert, or at least as alert as he could be leaning up comfortably against the cave wall. As for you, your eyelids had been heavy for a while now. Barely keeping yourself awake. The rain had stopped, the rain clouds were gone only to be replaced with the night sky.