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Aug 10, 2020

Insides Out||Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Immediately after the poisoning at Pat’s PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Sometimes, you just gotta get it all out. CONTENTS: Gore, Medical Blood, Surgical descriptions, Vomit, Food Poisoning

The alleyway dripped away and Remmy was in a car. A familiar car. They could see a man’s face when they closed their eyes but didn’t know who it was. They’d never seen him before. When their eyes opened again, the world was traveling by slowly. A doorway. The inside of a house. A bathroom. Someone was fussing with their hair, their clothes, their face. Remmy’s head sagged onto their shoulder. They didn’t have the strength to hold it up themself anymore. The burning inside their stomach crawled its way up their chest and into the back of their throat. They leaned over and felt something pour out of their mouth onto the floor. It was thick, heavy, sludge-like. It made their mouth taste like rot. They cried out in their agony. Morgan’s face swam into their vision as their head lolled back again, held up only by her hands. She was talking but they couldn’t hear her. “It burns…” they muttered again, “it burns inside. My st-stomach. It burns.”

“Yeah, I know it hurts, okay?” Morgan whispered. “I know, Rem. We’re gonna get inside and we’re gonna make it better, okay?” She took Remmy’s face into her hands, looking for a magic sign that said ZOMBIE CURE HERE or give them enough time to tell her something more concrete. “I need to know what you did at that restaurant. What you ate, what you drank--” But Remmy was looking worse by the minute. “Fuck it. Hang on for a second, okay?” She needed a zombie expert, and thanks to Leah, she had about six sitting on her nightstand.

Remmy groaned again as Morgan tried to prod something out of them. She was asking about what they’d eaten, what they’d had but, they hadn’t had anything, had they? “No…” they mumbled, “nothing...there.” They hadn’t, right? Their mind was dragging behind the words, trying to pull at the string of their memories of the day. “I fed...before…” they muttered as the thought trickled back into their head. They had made sure to eat before so that nothing would happen. Nadia had showed up early, they’d talked, they had eaten a little… They cried out in pain again, nails digging into their stomach. “Hurry,” they said, feeling the blackness begin to eat through their vision.

Morgan sprinted through the house and around to her side of the bed. All the zombie books were still there, waiting to have their turn. She had been working her way excitedly before, but this was now officially a research emergency. Fucking secrets and the stupid secret tomes and mislabled resources because of the stupid, stupid fucking supernatural secrecy. If they were human, if they didn’t have to hide, she could just “hey, google!” and take Remmy to the hospital. She crashed back into the bathroom, books clutched to her chest and settled next to Remmy. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? I’m gonna make sure you’re fine.” She started flipping, indexes if there were any, chapter heading if there weren’t. Zombies had been around for awhile. Surely one of them had been through something like this before.

Remmy wasn’t sure they believed Morgan. It was almost as if they could feel their body shutting down, feel whatever was snaking its way through them taking them over, bit by bit. They began to shiver, even though they did not feel cold. “Morgan, I--” they tried to say, but their voice was wavering, a croak in their throat. “I don’t wanna die…” they finished, heaving again as the pain spiked once more. Their mind raced, thought back to the restaurant, trying to shove pieces together, make sense of anything. “Nell…” they muttered, remembering her collapsed on the floor. “Luce…” they shook, “Nadia...where are...are they okay…?”

“Forget everyone else! We are taking care of you right now!” Morgan discarded one book and picked up another. She had to grip the book with both hands to keep herself steady. Slow down and actually read, process, what her eyes were seeing. There would be something in here. She would find it. She would save Remmy from whatever bullshit they’d gotten into. “I am going to do this for you. I am going to figure this out.” She started flipping again.

Finally, she found a chapter that looked promising. ‘Dead Again.’ Their zombie spawn had been infected with something. In distress, their friends had...yikes. “Okay,” she breathed. “This is okay. This is fine.” The drug had been called infector mortis. In high enough dosages, it would make a zombie cease to be and decompose. In a low dose, long lasting torture. Peachy. Morgan got up without a word and went up the stairs. When she came back, she was holding one of Deirdre’s long daggers. “We are going to save you, Remmy. But you are really, really, not gonna like this.”

Morgan’s body was swimming in and out of their vision. The world felt like it was slowing down around Remmy and their eyes finally drifted closed. Was this it? Was this how they went? Faces swam in and out of their vision. Skylar and Morgan. Nell and Luce. Blanche and Lydia. Nadia, Julie, Deirdre. And then...Darius. Andrews, Captain Lancer. Johnson. They couldn’t let go yet. They wouldn’t. For them. Because they had lived and they still had work to do. They still needed to make sure they were remembered. Their eyes slowly opened and saw Morgan coming back into the bathroom. Something was in her hand. Remmy couldn’t find the strength to move, but looked up at her with heavy eyes, barely open. “What...what’s that…”

Morgan grimaced. Remmy was barely conscious, barely able to understand what she was saying, much less what was about to happen. She held up the blade, hoping that there was enough of Remmy in there to put the pieces together and she wouldn’t have to say it out loud. Morgan wasn’t even sure how long she could think about this before it became too late, or before she lost the nerve to go through with it. If she just barreled through, if this was just something that was only kind of like gutting Remmy or sort of like mutilating them but not really at all because it was the key to saving their existence…

The dagger trembled in Morgan’s hand. “This is a knife,” she said, voice trembling. “We...need to get you into the tub and...we need to cut the poison out of you before it travels any further in your body. That’s...that’s what’s going to happen.” She did not meet Remmy’s eyes as she came over and peeled them up from the floor by the toilet and half carried, half dropped them into the bathtub. Fuck. She really hoped Remmy wasn’t too attached to the clothes they had on.

Remmy looked up at Morgan as much as they could, flopped against the floor. The world was fading in and out, rattling with each shuddering movement. A knife? Why did Morgan need a knife? The words didn’t register at first. Cut it out? That was good, right? Get it out, that’s what they wanted. Remmy slid into the tub with a loud thump, body limp. Morgan was leaning over them, the knife trembling in her hand. She was going to-- Oh. “No,” Remmy said suddenly, the pain still ripping through their insides. The metal glinted. They saw the claws of the rock monster, baring down on them. “No, no, please, no, don’t--” they said, trying to move out of the tub, gripping the edges, hands and arms too weak to get any grip. “Please, please, no, d-don’t,” they begged, even too exhausted now to cry or push her away. “Not again.”

Morgan turned her face away, forcing her attention on her limbs. No shaking. No chickening out. She did not want to be someone who hurt Remmy. She did not want to make them relive their worst moments in the ring, or see their death flash before their eyes again, or make them think she didn’t care for them. And maybe if it wasn’t this or the end of their whole fucking existence she wouldn’t have to choose at all.

“Hey.” She leaned over the side of the tub, grabbing Remmy’s face with one hand and thumbing over it roughly, the way they needed to feel any of it. “This is how you live, okay? This is how you live. You hang on and you find a way through. And this is the way we got, okay? Okay??” Her voice rose shrilly, bouncing painfully off the tile. “This is the way.” Then she thrust the dagger into Remmy’s gut and dragged it down their belly until there was one deep, bloody slit to stick her hands through.

Remmy was shaking wildly now. They looked up into Morgan’s eyes with a pain they weren’t sure was entirely their own. Somewhere behind their sluggish mind and their drooping eyes they understood that Morgan needed to do this. But the memories, the pain, was clouding their mind, their judgement. “Please, don’t, please, I don’t want it, please, no, Morgan--” their voice increasing in panic the more she talked, the close the knife came, “please, no--” And then Remmy screamed, as metal cut through flesh. Their entire being wrenched at the feeling as they were thrust back into the moment. Sitting on the cold ground, the beast above them. Ripping into their chest, their stomach. Tearing pieces from them in whole swipes. Remmy screamed but found themself too weak to fight back again.

Morgan’s muscles cringed as she worked. Blood was dripping down Remmy’s belly and soaking slowly into their pants. She reached inside them and scooped out the first organ she found. Shit, this had looked a lot easier on Grey’s. She grit her teeth and let it flop onto the tub, reached inside for...what, intestines? “Shut up,” she said, turning her head as the cordy thing unraveled and flopped in her hands. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…” Dark blood splattered her up to the elbow and just when she needed it, Morgan couldn't figure out where in the body the stomach was. If she could just shake everything out of Remmy like candy out of a jar she’d be fine, but of course that’s not how anything worked. Grunting with frustration, she slashed the knife through Remmy again, making the incision wider. If it could just go and stop and be done already, stars. She just wanted to be done.

Remmy couldn’t help but let out another scream. They couldn’t feel Morgan’s hands inside of them, but they could see it. A blink, and it was claws. A blink, and it was Morgan again. They couldn’t keep the scene straight, couldn’t keep the world steady around them. It kept shifting, phasing, crumbling from bathroom tile to chain link fence, to gravel ground. It was luck that Remmy couldn’t squirm, couldn’t move. The pain exploding in their stomach when Morgan pulled something out. They screeched, pounding their fists against the tub. “Stop it!” they cried out, “stop it! No, stop it! It hurts, Morgan, stop it!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Morgan shrieked. She could see something that looked stiff and black with rot poking out but she needed both hands and to not hear Remmy begging her for mercy as she was bending over to see. She reached up for one of the hand towels on the rack and stuffed it into their mouth. She held their jaw open, stuffing it deeper until there were only muffled whimpers coming out from them. “I need to do this!”

She bent back down over Remmy’s hollowed out belly and took a strong tug at what was left. One tug and their stomach flopped into her hands. “Gross...oh stars we’re gross…” She reached again for any thing else nearby. From the feel of things, more intestine, of course. Morgan started pulling it out by the handful like the magic trick no one asked for. The Great Endless Zombie Intestine! When she was finished and all kinds of miscellaneous digestive system was strewn around the tub in a mess of red, brown, and black, Morgan fumbled for her phone to turn on the flash light. Her thumbs slid over the screen. Thumbprint not recognized. Password not recognized. “Shit.” She wobbled to her feet and knocked the shower light on with her elbow. She couldn't figure if there was anything else still to grab. Remmy’s belly was practically empty except for some lungs that were dangling a little wrong but--- Morgan reached in and rummaged one more time just to be sure. Satisfied, she flopped down against the tub and buried her head in her bloody arms.

Remmy didn’t have the ability to fight back as the towel went in their mouth. They bit down, continued to whimper. Tears draining down their face, mixing with the flecks of blood and sweat, as they screwed their eyes shut, trying to hold still, trying to make the images of the monster tearing them apart go away. Trying to remember that it was Morgan there with them and they weren’t back in the Ring and they weren’t being torn apart. She was helping them. She was helping them. After a moment, the trembling slowed. Their mind was starting to catch up to itself. They blinked heavily, the world trying to focus in front of them. Though they still felt weak, their body slumping in the tub, they looked up at Morgan, eyes red and blurry with tears still. They couldn’t bring themself to look down. Not yet.

Morgan could still hear Remmy screaming and whimpering in her ear, even after they went quiet. She stayed slumped, eyes closed, trying to block it all out and be still. Get her shit together. If this wasn’t enough, if she’d missed something, she needed to be ready, slice and dice again. At some point, for fuck’s sake, actually use the bathroom for getting clean again. She still didn’t know how Remmy had been poisoned. If this didn’t work, she didn’t even know who she’d make suffer. She’d have to start by yelling at Nadia and work her way back from there and-- Morgan breathed. In, hold, out. It didn’t work the way it used to, but it could keep her brain cells busy.

Remmy didn’t know how long it took, but after a moment their eyes opened again and when they looked down, there wasn’t a large hole in their abdomen. Their limbs still felt heavy, but with a stiff movement, they managed to lift an arm. Pulled themself up enough to be sitting. “M-Morgan…” they muttered, searching for her, finding her nearby with a stray hand, fingers brushing her shoulder. They couldn’t feel her but they knew she was there. “Is it gone…?” they asked finally, “Did you...get it out?”

Morgan lifted her head when she heard Remmy’s voice. Her head felt heavy and loose on her neck and her vision swam as she looked at her friend. Their insides were still stitching together, but at least everything was the right color as the skin slowly layered on. “Well,” she rasped, “You’re not screaming anymore. So that’s something.” She reached up a hand, still sticky with Remmy’s blood, and patted their arm. “Are you um...are you...you know I had to, right? I needed to get you back, Rem. So I had to.”

They didn’t know what had happened with them, but Remmy trusted Morgan enough to accept that if she had to do something like this, it was for a good reason. Their eyes focused hard enough on Morgan to see their black, stale blood stained on her arms. They dropped their gaze, still slumped in the tub, and looked at the rotting organs piled by their feet. “I know,” they muttered, tearing their eyes away, trying not to think about the fact that those same organs were regrowing inside of them. “I know.” After a long moment, they looked back over at Morgan. “Can you...can you get me out of the tub?”

Morgan was silent for a moment, still catching up to her. The guts around the white tub. The stains on Remmy’s clothes and her own arms. “Yeah,” she stammered at last. “I can do that. Maybe, uh, rinse off first, if you want? Or I can get you a change of clothes too. You should probably get out of those…” She got to her feet, stiff and awkward and reached out to help Remmy to their feet and out of the tub. She went quickly to the sink and started to scrub herself off, at least enough to not leave stains on whatever pajamas she could throw together for Remmy.

“There’s another shower upstairs, if you feel like cleaning off. You don’t have to. But I mean, I can help you up, if you want?”

Remmy climbed out of the tub, leaning on Morgan with almost their full weight. They wanted to cling onto her, but let her move away to the sink while they lowered themselves to a sit on the edge of the tub. Their head was still woozy, and the smell was beginning to waft up and greet them. They hadn’t even realized their sense had been taken away from them, but it was clear now that whatever had been inside of them had worked to destroy everything about them, from the inside out. They wobbled as they tried to stand, before sinking back to a sit. “Um...yeah,” they said finally, “I don’t want to…” they half glanced back at the inside of the tub, but couldn’t bring themself to. Hoping the motion would get the thought across. They didn’t want to be in here with the mess in the tub anymore. “I wanna clean up.”

Morgan scrubbed her arms furiously over the sink. There was some staining on the marble, but she could clean it later, when Remmy wasn’t wobbling on their feet. She brushed her hands over a towel when she finished, not even looking to make sure she’d gotten all the water off. She looped an arm around Remmy, letting them lean (a lot) on her shoulders as they hobbled out. “This is going to sound like a terrible question, but…” She paused as they reached the stairs. “Would it be easier than this if I just...carried you up?”

Remmy gave Morgan a demure glance. Energy still hadn’t returned to their bones, their muscles, as their body was clearly focusing on rebuilding the inside Morgan had just schleped out into the tub. They came to the stairs and Remmy felt an overwhelming amount of exhaustion take over. Luckily, Morgan seemed to understand the insurmountable task before them and offered to carry them. They nodded slowly.

Morgan shifted her weight again. She could feel herself going floaty, trying to escape into the stratosphere, to blink into that space where nothing was awful because nothing existed. “G-good. Okay. Yeah, I got you…” At least Remmy was shorter than Deirdre, and their legs knocked into the railing a whole lot less than when she carried her girlfriend up the stairs. Morgan bumped open the door with her elbow and set Remmy down by the tub. She murmured some assurance or other and said she’d bring them clean clothes and she would stay in the room with them, or on the other side of the door, or get a bed ready, or prep some real food, before it occurred to her that there were too many ‘or’s for either of them to keep track of. “I’ll just see how you’re doing, after,” she said.

For the first time since Remmy woke up as a zombie, they truly felt like they could’ve closed their eyes and fallen asleep. Morgan’s arms, though not warm, were felt tight against their body as she carried them up the stairs. There was no heartbeat to hear when they leaned their head against her chest, no soft breathing sounds, no chest rising and falling with each intake, but it was still a comfort, to feel her so solidly, so stiffly. When she set them down on the tub, they just gave a nod and crawled into the shower. Turned it on to the highest and hottest temperature it would go, even with their clothes on and started stripped down until the burning hot water was beating against their skin. They stood under the current for a long time, scrubbing away the blood and gore and memories. When they could finally look down and not see claws and hands tearing out their innards, they turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping themself tightly in a towel. Stayed sitting on the toilet for a long moment before they remembered Morgan was outside waiting for them. The door cracked open and Morgan was right there. Remmy looked up at her. Why did this keep happening to them? “Can we just...lay down?” they mumbled, “I just wanna rest.”

“Yeah, of course we can.” Morgan said, gathering up the sweats she’d left outside and wrapping an arm around Remmy. She brought them to the guest room she’d once used, and guided Remmy under the blankets. She knew too well that they wouldn’t be able to tell how soft or warm the bed was, but the tightness of a good tucking in wasn’t anything to sniff at. She climbed up next to them on top of the covers and bundled her arms tight around their body. There was no sound in the house to turn their minds away from what had just happened except for the billows of the central air system, dialed down to the lowest setting, and the mewling of curious cats. So Morgan filled the silent gaps between these cycles with whispers that lead to nowhere and little tugs on the tufts of drying hair on Remmy’s scalp, and some absent humming she sometimes brought out when Deirdre had a nightmare or she needed to outrun her nighttime thoughts. She did everything short of running into the horizon to carry them away from this night. She carried them when she was sure Remmy had stopped paying any attention, until it was no longer evening, but night, until she could convince herself that everything was going to be okay.