SCP-049 x Reader - Untouchable

[18— Lonely]

|| 049's POV  (The past) ||

   It wasn't abnormal for you to be planted in a foldable seat in my quarters, nor for a bunch of papers and a writing utensil to be accompanying you. I was always left with either being planted on the bed, which in itself had lost its soft compression over time, or on my feet.

   Did the people watching us on the other side of the glass have the sickness? Must have been so, or they would be in the cell on their own already. They wouldn't have had to use you for their desires. You were the only clean one there was.

   I knew how they functioned, and I knew you. Those like you were special in their own sense. Your unfriendliness and fervently brusque tendencies were unpopular with your kind. There wouldn't be any expectation that they would use you over another possible candidate. They weren't fans of my wishes to relinquish those from their illness either.

   We were alike in that sense: Both of us were terribly alone; outcasted for our methods.

   You thumbed through those papers, face void of any emotion. I idled in my own space opposite of you, hands clasped together to give myself a mirage that they were simply doing something.

   A sigh escaped you, and you uttered another question my way. The nature of it told me it was a mandatory question, and not one of your own. 

   I answered in my usual tongue when it came to the countless inquiries; vague yet indiscreet.

   Not entertained, you scribbled down various things.

   My eyes flicked to those on the other side of the window, seeing their faces. Their expressions read just as displeased as yours. I considered making things up, but these interviews were my only chance to one day being allowed to experiment once more. I didn't need to drive that opportunity away.

   I was perfectly aware of the fact that you disliked me. It was evident in your very manner of speech and those constant glares you gave me. You gave the same looks to your colleagues behind their backs. They didn't know you were, but I was always watching. Though I had wondered why you did, as you did it even when they weren't chiding you.

   Noises sounded from you, drawing my attention. Your legs shifted to be more straight, a more stern look overcoming you. "Tell me, now, with your rapid generation..." Your tone was grim. "Do you also grow parts back?"

   I faced you more properly. Now this was one of your own questions. Curious to your intention of asking, I answered nicely in tone. "No, I'm afraid not."

   "A shame," you muttered, eyelids draping further down over your eyes. Stone cold. "I wanted to hack off your hands and see how you'd try to 'cure' somebody without your little touch."

   It was a tiny gesture, but my head lifted. A low chuckle escaped me, rumbling in my chest. "Oh, how cruel of you, doctor! I wouldn't expect anything less."

   From the corner of my eye, one of your colleagues— Dr. Juarez, I believe you called him— Had a hard gaze on you from the other room because of your statement.

   When I had looked back over to you, your eyes were focused on the ground and unblinking. The rest of your body was just as still with your head lowered.