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Chapter Text

"The Serpent's Hand had discovered an anomalous object," said Dr Colin Combs, the researcher currently studying SCP-049 and related phenomena. "Which our people took from them. Then the Serpents Hand sent their own strike force to get it back."

Dr Victoria West, these days contained as SCP-049-3, knew there had been an attack three nights before. The alarms had gone off but the fighting hadn't reached Light Containment. This was the first time she was getting any details. She had asked before but was denied. Not knowing what was going on was the most annoying part about being fired and contained.

She stood beside Combs, in the observation room of a small testing chamber, hidden from the entities inside by a one-way mirror. The chamber was divided in half by a transparent barrier, 049 on one side and 035 on the other. They were ignoring each other - 049 seated on the floor, glancing about nervously while 035 danced around, singing to itself.

Victoria said nothing. Combs cleared his throat and continued. "In the confusion, 035 breached containment. It then went to breach 049. We don't know if they planned to find you next or just attack the Serpent's Hand agents."

It was probably the only reason the Foundation tolerated Victoria's relationship with 049 and 035 at all - it kept 035 somewhat under control. Regular visits with 049 and Victoria kept 035 less inclined to mayhem, and when it did breach, it wouldn't cause lasting harm to Foundation personnel. Victoria had no control over 035, it just knew that it had to compromise if it wanted her to love it. She had to make her own compromises as well.

She didn't look away from the testing chamber. "And then?"

"035 and 049 ended up in the middle of a skirmish between our agents and the Serpent's Hand," Combs continued. "The object the Serpent's Hand were trying to steal back from us activated, catching three of our agents, four of theirs, 035, and 049 in its effect. The affected humans were taken to another Site to try to help them."

Now Victoria looked over at Combs. "Why wasn't I told earlier?"

"Because you're not a Foundation researcher anymore," Combs reminded her flatly. Becoming anomalous wasn't an automatic firing, but an intimate relationship with an SCP entity was. Victoria hadn't intended for things to go so far with 049 when she started talking to him afterhours, but they had, and later 035 invited itself along because it and 049 were, as 049 had once put it, bound and together. She'd ended up marrying them both, sort of, because she'd come to realise she needed them both, and they needed her.

Except now, both of Victoria's spouses had been anomalously transformed into toddlers.

"We ran some tests," said Combs as Victoria returned her attention to the two small entities. "Physically, 049 still has a keratin mask and his robes are part of his body and all his other unusual traits are there, and 035 is an exoskeletal other-dimensional alien filled with black goo. However, their effects are weakened - 049's touch no longer kills, it just causes unconsciousness. He can still sense the Pestilence. 035's acid can't burn, it's about as dangerous as lemon juice now. They seem to think like the three-year-olds they appear to be. We haven't been able to get much information out of them because, well, they're toddlers and they don't trust us."

"The only reason I was told of this was because the Foundation wants me to try to interview them," said Victoria. "You hope they'll remember me enough to trust me."

"Yes. 049 seemed to accept me as a safe adult more than he did the others, but we don't have a connection."

"I don't know how to deal with children, Combs." Victoria had the maternal instincts of a witch in a gingerbread house.

"But you do know how to deal with 049 and 035."

This time she rounded on the man fully. "I am - was? - married to them, Combs! And now they're goddamn toddlers! That's weird even by Foundation standards!"

Combs took a step back - he'd never developed the unflappable poker face most researchers had. "Look at it this way - do you trust anyone else to look after them properly?"

That pulled Victoria up short. She'd been a Foundation researcher for twenty years before being fired. She knew how the Foundation operated and she wasn't going to leave her anomalies to them while they were helpless.

Victoria swapped out her metal mittens she wore outside her containment for plain cloth gloves - the Doctor and 035's anomalous effects might have been made harmless when they were transformed, but Victoria still had a death-touch. The Doctor would be immune to it - it was the same as his own - and while the mask was inorganic and immune, its body wasn't. She would need to make it understand that skin-contact was dangerous.

Combs opened up the testing chamber for her, the dividing wall vanishing into the floor so Victoria could interact with both entities at once. Combs remained in the observation room.

When Victoria entered the testing chamber, both entities looked over warily. Other researchers had tested their new condition for days, and probably none too gently. The Doctor and 035 had caused the Foundation enough deaths and damage over the years that they wouldn't receive much sympathy, even if they'd been transformed into toddlers.

Uncertain of how to deal with children, let alone nervous ones, Victoria approached the two slowly and held out one hand. "Do you remember me? I'm Victoria." Could they even understand her? They looked like three-year-olds, was that old enough to understand words? Victoria had no idea. It had been forty years since she'd been three.

035 approached first. The transformation had affected it much more than it had the Doctor. The Doctor just looked like a child version of himself, but then he was human, probably. 035 had acquired an Alagaddan body some months ago, slim and humanoid. 035's child-body had six arms, the way it preferred to look in Alagadda. It was also wearing Alagaddan clothing - apparently the transformation had affected that as well.

The part that worried Victoria was its mask. 035's mask, its self, had changed, no longer the long, angular comedy/tragedy mask but small and rounded like a toddler's face. Whatever the object was that had transformed it, it was powerful enough to alter a Lord of Alagadda at a fundamental level.

The small mask had changed to tragedy when Victoria had entered, probably expecting more tests. However, it approached Victoria - possibly it was still telepathic enough to recognise she wasn't a threat. After a moment, 035 slipped one of its small hands into Victoria's gloved one.

The mask immediately changed to comedy. "Victoria!" it cheered.

"Do you remember me?" Victoria asked.

The mask flickered briefly to tragedy as 035 concentrated, then back to comedy. "No," it conceded. The small, cool hand squeezed her fingers. "Victoria is mine," it stated, matter-of-fact.

The Black Lord's brand was still on Victoria's arm, she'd double-checked when she changed her gloves. 035 might not remember who she was but the bond was still there.

During this, the Doctor had got to his feet and crept up quietly. If the Alagaddan bond still connected her and 035, then it connected 035 and the Doctor. She reached out her other hand to him. The Doctor took it.

Victoria was a short woman but the two entities barely reached her hips. Unused to looking down to talk to people, she sat down cross-legged on the floor - the chamber had no furniture. 035 immediately climbed into her lap. The Doctor looked a bit upset, so Victoria hoisted 035 to one side to make room for the Doctor. This seemed to be what the Doctor wanted and he settled himself on her other leg. Small as they were, they were still heavy little beings, and Victoria was glad of her enhanced strength.

Okay. We've established that 035 recognises me on some level and the Doctor at least accepts that I'm safe and here to be comforting, probably following 035's lead. The last three days would have been hard on them, all the tests without understanding why. Or maybe there was still some memory there.

She turned her attention on the Doctor, who had snuggled into her side. She patted his hood to get his attention. "What's your name?"

Wide gray eyes looked up at her, then widened, beginning to tear up. "You don't know?" she asked.

"Non, madame."

French was the Doctor's first language, hopefully he was just reverting out of nervousness or else Victoria would need a translator. He understood English, at least. But it did underline that this wasn't a reversion to childhood - the Doctor wasn't in his childhood memories if he didn't know his original name. Victoria patted his back. "Is there anything you'd like to be called? How about 'Doctor'?"

He blinked away his tears, nodding emphatically. Transformed as he was, he still identified as the Doctor.

Problem Two was 035. Victoria couldn't ask its real name, not unless she wanted a cognitohazard migraine at best. She usually called it 'friend' since the Doctor did, but would that confuse the Doctor in his current state? Would he get upset thinking that Victoria only considered 035 'friend'?

Instead she asked, "What should I call you?"

035 thought for a moment. "Amica."

Italian for 'friend'? I'm pretty sure that's what the Doctor said 'friend' was in Italian. Something like that. I wonder if it picked it up from my thoughts. "All right - Amica and the Doctor."

Then Victoria was at a loss what to do next. She'd learned she couldn't interview them - they were mind-muddled toddlers.

However, she knew what she wasn't going to do. She shifted 035 and the Doctor off her lap, stood, and took their hands again. She looked up at the mirror she knew Combs was behind. "I'm taking them back to my containment, Combs. I'll be better able to observe them in more relaxed surroundings," said Victoria, not a request. "Have some blocks or crayons or whatever kids do sent up. And snacks." As long as she was making demands, she might as well make them all.

There was a sigh. "They've accepted you, I agree that they should stay with you. I just don't know how many enrichment requests I'll be able to fulfill. Those two aren't exactly popular among the staff."

"I know." She relented a little, because Combs was a decent man and didn't deserve her anger. "The important thing is they stay with me - I'm not leaving them alone while they're helpless. Any further enrichment is a bonus. I'll figure something out."

Chapter Text

The Doctor and 035 - Amica, as it currently wanted to be called - had clung tightly to Victoria's hands as they walked to Light Containment. It was obvious even to Victoria that they'd learned to associate being taken places with bad things. Victoria didn't know what tests had been run on the two SCPs-turned-toddlers, if it had been just clinical check-ups that Amica and the Doctor couldn't understand in their current state or if any of the researchers had taken the chance to cause some pain.

Combs had been there for the Doctor's exams and said they had been clinical, but it might have been because Combs was right there observing so no one took any liberties. Victoria was more worried about Amica, whose sadistic nature and high body count might have drawn some retribution while it couldn't fight back. It didn't seem to be injured, at least. Maybe they were just worried they'd be taken back to their containments to be alone.

A guard walked behind them, which Victoria found ridiculous. What could Amica and the Doctor even do in this state? Maybe the guard was for her, in case she decided to just scoop up the other two and carry them out. It was probably just the basic protocol that she wasn't supposed to wander the halls alone and it didn't mean anything. She still found the basic protocol ridiculous.

All three relaxed once they were in Victoria's containment, which looked more-or-less like a large bedroom with a small bathroom attached. Nothing any fun in it for kids, but it was more comfortable than Heavy Containment's bare concrete and metal. Victoria went to her laptop and set the media player to a Classical playlist. It wasn't her favourite but the other two liked it, at least when they were adults.

By the time she looked up again, Amica was already walking around like it owned the place, opening drawers like it expected to find something more fun than clothing. The Doctor had remained where she'd left him, standing on the small rug beside the bed. She walked over to sit beside him, using her bed as a backrest. "It's okay, Doctor, you're safe here. I know everything is confusing right now."

He sat down on the rug beside her and curled into her side. "C'est un mauvais endroit."

Victoria put an arm around him protectively. "I don't understand French." The Doctor had taught her a few words, mostly endearments, not nearly enough to have a conversation. "Can you say it in English?"

"This place is bad," said the Doctor quietly. The rasp had gone from his voice, now high and childlike, but the slight metallic echo was still there. "People are sick."

The Doctor was usually only allowed to interact with a couple of the medical doctors who he had deemed clear of the Pestilence. They'd probably had several uncleared researchers studying him over the last few days, just because his condition was new and they wanted to get as much information as they could quickly. "You want to help them."

The small hooded head nodded emphatically. "Oui. Yes. I can, I can ..."

He trailed off, frustrated, lacking the words to explain his feelings, knowing he had a purpose but unable to understand in his current state. Victoria rubbed his back to calm him down. "You will. Not yet. You'll learn how when you're older." Not that the Doctor had ever been able to explain the Pestilence as an adult.

Amica made itself known by flopping backwards onto the rug to lay its head on Victoria's lap. It had managed to pull socks over each of its six hands and was now waving them in the air for inspection. "I have tentacles! They should be black." Its voice wasn't as deep as it had been, but surprisingly deep for a small child. It made Victoria think of a young bullfrog.

"I don't have black socks." All of Victoria's socks were shades of gray.

"Why?"

"Black socks wouldn't match my outfits."

"Why?"

"Because all my clothes are gray or beige."

The next 'why?' didn't come. "You should wear black," said Amica. "Because you're mine. Doctor wears black. Gray is the wrong colour."

It was reassuring to know that despite their condition, the Doctor was still certain he was the Doctor and Amica was certain it was the Black Lord. Neither seemed to know exactly what those things meant, but they hadn't lost everything in the transformation.

After a short while there was a knock, then Victoria's containment door slid open. Dr Myrna Usher walked in, carrying a small tupperware. "Dr West," she acknowledged, with only the tiniest twitch of the corner of her mouth when she found Victoria sitting on the floor, toddler-sized Amica and the Doctor on either side of her as they played sock-puppets. Really just socks on their hands tucked in a bit to make a mouth. It wasn't as if Victoria kept toys in her containment.

"Dr Usher," said Victoria, stone-faced and flat-voiced, daring the younger woman to say anything about the socks. "What is that?"

"Snacks," shrugged Usher, holding up the tupperware. "I thought they might be more cooperative if I bribe them. And it will keep them distracted so we can talk." She came in and knelt down to get a better look at the small entities, who shied back and held tightly to Victoria. "Hello, 2264-3. Or 035?" she said to Amica. "I'm your researcher, Dr Usher. I've talked to you but you've never seen me before."

Amica's expression changed to tragedy as it eyed Usher suspiciously. "Per te, io sono il Signore Nero."

"Sei sempre contrario, piccolo principe," replied Usher, sounding amused. "Do you remember me?"

"No," said Amica simply.

"Well, maybe you'll remember me if I give you this," said Usher, opening the tupperware to reveal crackers, cubed cheese, and grapes that had been cut in half for some reason. "Share these with your little friend while I talk to Dr West."

Victoria got up from her place on the rug and took the sock off her hand. Amica and the Doctor tossed their hand-socks aside as well. They might have been wary of Usher, but they set to the snacks with a will.

Victoria and Usher went closer to the door to talk. Not that it gave them any real distance, but it was the thought that counted. Usher looked over at Amica and the Doctor, no longer bothering to hide her grin. "They're stupid cute. It's hard to believe they've murdered people when they look like that."

"Try to stay focused, Usher."

"You don't get to lecture anyone on that."

"I get to lecture everyone. Stay focused or you'll end up dead and fired like West."

They glared at each other for a moment, but Usher caved first and gave a short laugh of defeat. Or maybe just humouring the monsterfucker. Victoria asked, "Why cut the grapes in half?"

"So they don't choke on them?" Like it was obvious.

"I ... would not have thought of that."

"Fuck, West, you should not be in charge of children," said Usher.

"I am aware," Victoria replied flatly. "How do you know any of this? Do you have children?"

"No, I'm just Italian. Huge family," she added, in case Victoria didn't know the stereotype. "I spent high school babysitting various cousins."

They watched Amica and the Doctor for a while. They seemed to be sharing well enough, Amica even picking out bits of cheese to give to the Doctor. Victoria had worried that Amica wouldn't be good at sharing, but their bond seemed to be holding strong - Amica took more enjoyment from watching the Doctor eat than in eating.

"They don't need to eat, do they?" Usher asked after a minute. "035's file says it can but doesn't need to, but Combs mentioned you wanted snacks brought."

"049 enjoys food. 035 finds human food bland but is a social eater. Neither of them need to eat, they just like to," Victoria explained.

"Am I going to have to teach you how to change diapers?"

"No, thank God - neither of them produce waste products. That would be too damn awkward." And, absolutely not wanting to continue that train of thought, "This is your first time being in the same room as 035, isn't it?"

Usher looked over at Amica, who was making a sandwich out of two crackers and a grape half. "Yes. I've stayed out of its range - I've read what happened to every other researcher it's ever had. I thought it was probably safe now, with its effects reduced. Why does it have six arms?"

"No idea. It prefers having six arms, that's how it looks in 2264-B. Why the object transformed it this way is unknown. Does it have a number yet?" asked Victoria.

"Probably, but I don't know it. Oh!" Usher reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out a notebook stuffed with bookmarks. Ignoring the bookmarks, she withdrew a folded sheet of paper that had been tucked into the front cover. "Look at this."

Victoria unfolded the paper to reveal pencil drawings of four ornate masks - the Lords of Alagadda. She recognised Amica's sketchy but detailed drawing style. Usher must have convinced it to make the drawing for her.

One of the Humours' odder anomalies was that any depiction of them changed when the real mask changed expression. It was obvious something was wrong - Mirth's face wasn't a laugh but twisted in grief, Diligence's neutral expression was more severe, only Odious retained its basic snarl. It was easy to see why. Amica's mask was in its comedy aspect, but ...

Chubby cheeks, a small rounded nose, fine eyebrows, no wrinkles or age lines. The drawing of the Black Lord's mask had changed not only to copy its expression, but the way the mask currently looked.

Victoria looked back up at Usher, who nodded. "Every depiction of 035 looks like that now," Usher confirmed. "The photographs and videos look very strange, that baby face on an adult body. Every painting of 035, every sculpture, whatever they have in 2264-B - they know something's gone weird with it."

"Do you think they'll try anything?"

"Fuck, I don't know, you're the one who's actually been there," said Usher. "The 2264-3s can't come here, but there have been 2264-1s on Earth before, and they have at least a couple different cults out there. Fuck, we have a 2264-1 instance contained in Site-19 right now."

Ardente, an Alagaddan who the Doctor had killed while they were in Alagadda. Victoria had taken its mask for the Foundation. The last Victoria had heard, Ardente had possessed a D-Class. Unlike Amica, Ardente didn't secrete acid, so its host wouldn't melt.

However, it was just an Alagaddan citizen. It probably didn't know anything was wrong. "2264-4?" asked Victoria. The Ambassador.

"It seems to prefer to give warning before it appears - sending a letter or appearing briefly several times before manifesting fully. Building tension." Usher put the drawing away again. "Has 035 said anything about what its people might do?"

"It's hard to know exactly how much it knows," said Victoria. "It's already limited by a toddler's thought processes and vocabulary. It could be picking up things from us by telepathy. They both seem to remember what they are. 035 is part of 2264-B so it knows the bits that relate to who it is. I'm not literally part of it so it doesn't remember me, but it does remember the bond."

Usher nodded. "It told me to call it Signore Nero. Black Lord."

They returned to watching Amica and the Doctor. Amica had put a sock back on one of its hands and was 'feeding' the sock-snake a piece of cheese. Victoria decided it wasn't worth being annoyed about - it was just a sock, there were staff who did her laundry.

"If only 049 was affected, I might have theorised that this was an age regression," said Victoria after a moment. "We're mostly sure he had been human to begin with and became the Doctor as an adult, but with his memory loss he can't be certain. If it was only him, it might have been a hint that he was born anomalous."

She looked over at Amica. "But 035 was never a child, so the effect of the object must be a transformation."

"'There are no children in Alagadda,'" quoted Usher. "Do you know anything about 035's origins?"

"Very little. 035 itself doesn't know the circumstances of its creation. It came into being fully-formed as the Black Lord. The only thing it's certain of is that the other 2264-3s were already there when it awakened - it's the youngest."

"And 2264-4?" Usher had a particular interest in the Ambassador, the way an arachnophobe might study spiders to try to conquer fear with knowledge. Surviving an SCP-701 Event was what had started her on her path that eventually lead her to the Foundation.

Victoria shook her head. "It showed up later, according to 035."

"Do you know why there are no children in Alagadda?" asked Usher.

"I suppose they don't need them. Alagaddans are conjured by alchemy," said Victoria. "Is there a different reason?"

"I don't know, it just seems so ... emphatic. The phrase keeps appearing - 'there are no children in Alagadda.' Like it's an order or a prophecy, not just an observation. Like ... like they conjure new Alagaddans because they can't or shouldn't have children, not that they don't need children because they conjure."

Chapter Text

Sleeping, Victoria realised, might be a problem.

Specifically, Victoria needed to sleep. Amica and the Doctor didn't. She was going to have to leave the two SCP-turned-toddlers unsupervised for eight hours.

There wasn't anything for it. At least there wasn't too much trouble the two could get into in her containment. Victoria went into her bathroom to change into her pyjamas - with socks and gloves - and get ready for bed. When she came out again, she looked down at Amica and the Doctor. "I have to sleep now," she told them. "I'll still be here. You can either come up on the bed and rest with me or continue to play quietly. I'll leave the lights and music on for you. If you need me, wake me up, understand?" They both nodded.

Victoria was surprised, though maybe she shouldn't have been, that they chose the first option. The Doctor snuggled back into her arms to be the little spoon, and Amica wrapped itself around the Doctor, cuddled up like kittens. They might get bored and wander off after a while, but for now she knew where they were and she could sleep.

Victoria was awakened by shrieks. Vision still clouded by sleep, she made out a human figure standing beside the bed. Which put Amica and the Doctor between her and the intruder. Victoria grabbed the two small entities close, rolled over to deposit them by the wall, and started to turn back to the intruder.

A sharp pain under her jaw hoisted her to her knees, forcing her to look into the face of the intruder.

It had no face. Humanoid but not human. Never human. Tall, mummified in colourless rags, draped in chains, hands behind its back as it stared down without even disdain. She was below disdain. Victoria hadn't seen this being before - she hadn't been able to look at it, it had stood beside the Hanged King and Amica had warned her not to look at the Hanged King. But she knew this being with its aura of poison and pride.

This was the Ambassador of Alagadda.

The rough rope around her neck tightened, not enough to cut off her breath entirely. The Ambassador didn't speak, its voice simply sounded in her mind: So many mortals have thrown their lives away for the Black Lord. Do you really think you are special, little pawn?

Victoria couldn't speak, but knew it didn't matter. She projected all the confidence of a mortal chosen and beloved by the Black Lord of Anguish: Yes.

Amusing. But the faint trace of humour left its voice. This trope is idiotic. The Black Lord cannot remain this way. It is an embarrassment to Alagadda. An insult to our King's grand play.

Will you take the Black Lord to Alagadda so the Hanged King can restore it? asked Victoria.

Do you think our King a crass magician, a mere vendor of miracles? Blasphemous pawn, sneered the Ambassador. No. Our King is the author of the play, and a deus ex machina is poor writing. No, little pawn, when a trope is too foolish, a character too ruined, all that is left is a rewrite.

No!

It is not your choice.

We're doing what we can to restore everyone affected by the object back to normal! Give us time! Why is it so important that there are no children in Alagadda?

The Ambassador tilted its head. You ask me questions, little pawn? The role of the ensemble is to do as they are told, not question the director.

My role is greater than mere ensemble! I am a favoured consort of the Black Lord of Anguish! Victoria snapped back, trying to argue in a way an Alagaddan might listen to. Stories, it was all stories, according to Amica. Make it dramatic. I have stood before the Hanged King and lived! I have earned a question!

Tsk. I do not like when mortals talk back to me as if I am a summoned spirit. Mortals should know their place. You are fortunate that I can smell your fear and desperation. Perhaps, little pawn, if you perform for me, I will deign to answer your question.

What do you want?

The Ambassador considered that. In a city of stories and lies, truth is a novelty. I would enjoy to hear you beg, but it would not be true - you are not one to grovel. So you will give me pain, of your own free will. Is an answer worth pain to you, little pawn?

It took all she had not to think, seriously, is that all? She'd died for less. Victoria lifted her left hand, palm facing the Ambassador. Amica, cover your eyes and the Doctor's.

She waited a few seconds, hoped Amica and the Doctor couldn't see, then reached her right hand up and ripped back on her left little finger before she could think about it too hard.

There was a crack and searing pain as her finger broke.

Of course it wasn't enough. The Ambassador sighed in bliss. Again.

Breaking her ring finger was worse, since now she knew how bad the pain would be.

Again, little pawn.

Victoria broke her middle finger, realising what a stupid bargain she'd made. How much would be enough for the Ambassador? Did it expect her to break every bone in her body?

Again.

Victoria broke her left forefinger. The Ambassador sighed again, but this time said, Balance.

Fuck you, that's it? Victoria thought before she could stop herself. I broke my fingers for 'there's no children in Alagadda because nobody really dies so it's population control'?

Smugness radiated from the Ambassador. Stupid, impulsive, and angry. You really are a perfect match for the Yellow Lord.

Fuck Odious too, snapped Victoria. Fine, so it's not population control, it's 'in a place where no one dies, no one can be born' and it's a metaphor for something. I was in STEM, not Arts and Literature. Either way, you can't kill the Black Lord. It's not really a child, it was transformed by some anomalous object. No birth, no death. No rule was broken.

The role was broken. There are no children in Alagadda, so a child cannot be the Black Lord. The noose began to tighten. I tire of you, pawn. You were a brief entertainment.

The bed jostled behind Victoria, and a few small hands gripped her arm. She couldn't see, head forced up as it was in the noose, but knew Amica was standing beside her, glaring up at the Ambassador. "Go away! No Ambassador! Go away!"

My lord, it is not your choice.

"No!" Amica yelled, with the determination only a contrary toddler had. "Go away!"

Our King commands -

"Liar!" Amica shrieked.

To Victoria's surprise, the Ambassador actually seemed taken aback by this. Amica had spoken enough about Alagadda to know that the Ambassador had no fear of the Humours, even when they were at full strength, which could only mean ... The King didn't send you. You're just using the Black Lord's current weakness as an excuse to kill it and force the King to make a new one because you don't like this one.

"I'll tell," Amica threatened. "I'll tell our King. It'll be mad."

This was apparently a threat the Ambassador heeded. It took a step back and seemed to fade into the background. The rope that had been holding Victoria up on her knees vanished as well and she collapsed to the bed, gasping.

As soon as she had enough breath and the black spots faded from her vision, she ran for the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. It might have been the fear, for herself, for Amica, or just the unbearable presence of the Ambassador, but the encounter had left Victoria's guts churning.

She was still holding the toilet, not yet ready to stand again, when small hands patted her shoulder. Victoria looked over into a pair of wide gray eyes. "Victoria is sick?" asked the Doctor, worried.

"No, Doctor. I was scared. Sometimes being scared makes you feel sick. I'm fine now."

"Victoria is hurt."

"Yes. I need to get up and call for help." Every containment had a panic button, technically for researchers who got locked inside but sometimes the SCPs had reasons to use them. Right now, Victoria just wanted to rest a moment, no matter how badly her hand hurt.

"I help," said the Doctor firmly, and to Victoria's surprise, took a child-size doctor's bag out of himself.

Over the next few minutes, the Doctor proceeded to do a fairly good job of splinting Victoria's fingers with popsicle sticks and band-aids. The band-aids were purple with little cartoon ravens on them.

Wondering where the other one was, Victoria turned her head and found Amica hanging back by the bathroom door. "Are you okay, Amica?"

It nodded. "Ambassador went away. I told it to go away."

"Yes you did."

Victoria stood and went to the sink to rinse her mouth out and splash some water on her face. In the mirror, she could see the rope burn dark around her throat and splashed some water on that as well to try to soothe it a little. Then she went back out into the main room to find her glasses and summon help.

Chapter Text

A Foundation doctor had splinted Victoria's hand with the proper supplies, applied a cream to her neck to soothe the rope burn, and let her write a note for Usher telling her to check the security footage. Then they put her in a temporary containment room in the medical lab and Victoria went back to sleep.

Victoria woke up pinned down by toddlers, the Doctor on her left and Amica on her right. She'd insisted on keeping them with her - she didn't like the idea of leaving them alone, or with someone who didn't understand them, and what if the Ambassador came back? Not that she could do anything to the Ambassador but she felt she had to try.

There was something on her neck. Victoria got her arm free from Amica and reached up. No rope, just band-aids. The Doctor had struck again. Have to tell Combs that the Doctor's bag was affected as well ...

But that would need to wait, as Amica and the Doctor noticed she was awake. They immediately got into her face, excitedly telling her ... something. With the two of them going at once, it was just a babble.

"Move back, let me sit up," Victoria told them, pushing herself up on her elbows, wincing when she automatically put some weight on her left hand. She sat up more carefully after that. Talking hurt as well, but there was no getting around it. "Right, you both have things to tell me. I need you to speak one at a time. Doctor, you go first."

"This place is bad," said the Doctor. His eyes narrowed. "Fake doctors. I am the Doctor. Fake doctor came in. We scared him away."

Victoria translated from toddler-speak to Doctor-speak: The doctors here don't do medicine in a way I approve of and the nurse who checked on you while you were asleep has the Pestilence. "How did you scare him away?"

Amica answered first: "I yelled at him!"

"I didn't hear you yell." I'm a heavy sleeper, but not that heavy.

"I yelled in his head," said Amica proudly. "I said 'go away' in a scary voice and he did."

Hopefully all it did was scare the nurse. The unknown anomalous object had so far seemed to have rendered Amica and the Doctor harmless, but Amica was a powerful eldritch being as old as humanity. It might not be affected as completely due to its other-dimensional nature, or it was figuring out the whole Black Lord thing very quickly. Amica was incredibly dangerous even when it could be reasoned with - if it managed to regain its power without regaining its mature mind, people were going to end up in the metaphorical cornfield.

A different nurse brought in breakfast - it looked like a sort of bland porridge and a glass of milk, but Victoria was starving and acknowledged that solid foods probably weren't a great idea with the injuries to her throat.

The nurse left before Victoria could complain that only she was brought food. Then Dr Combs walked in few seconds later. Victoria noted that the Doctor seemed, if not pleased to see Combs, at least not wary of him. He sat up a bit straighter, like a student when a teacher enters the room. Amica snuggled closer to Victoria, though it felt possessive rather than afraid.

Combs glanced at the tray. "Keep eating if you want to, West. Have the other two been fed?"

"The staff didn't bother." Amica and the Doctor didn't need to eat, they just liked to.

"I thought they might not." Combs took a couple napkin-wrapped muffins out of his lab coat pocket and handed them to Amica and the Doctor. The Doctor gave a quiet, "Merci." Amica, of course, never thanked anyone. "What happened?"

"One of 035's people appeared in my containment and attacked me to try to get at 035. I can't tell you much," said Victoria. Combs wasn't cleared for Alagadda and only knew its SCP-number, that it was an other-dimensional location, and that 035 was from there.

"Give me the redacted version. I'm your researcher - I need to know how you were hurt."

"Asshole can manifest nooses. I tried stalling it to find out more information to try to convince it not to kill 035, it only answered a question after I broke my fingers."

"You broke your own fingers." Combs just sounded resigned.

"I don't have my best ideas when I've just woken up and I'm being strangled," she replied flatly. "We all lived. I win."

"You've grown reckless since you -"

"Died?" Victoria prodded.

"Were contained," Combs finished.

"I died once already and I'm fired. I don't have a lot of reason to follow protocol if being reckless will get answers," Victoria pointed out. "I also found more questions. Doctor, can you show Combs your bag?"

The Doctor rustled around in itself for a few seconds and the small doctor's bag appeared in his sticky hands. "It's changed as well," said Victoria. "Did the staff give you the band-aids and popsicle sticks they took off my hand, Combs?"

"Yes. They said your hand had been splinted before you came down here."

"That was 049's work," said Victoria, and also pulled the collar of her pyjamas aside briefly to show more band-aids on her neck. "So not only does he still have at least some of his medical knowledge, the items in his bag have changed. I helped clean out his bag in SCP-1230, I know for a fact he didn't have raven band-aids or popsicle sticks. Maybe he stole them during a breach since, but I've never known him to use stick-on bandages at all."

Combs frowned pensively. "More of the unknown anomaly rendering him harmless?"

"I think so." She turned back to the Doctor. "Doctor, could you get me a -" Victoria almost said 'scalpel', but didn't want something that dangerous in such a small hand, and quickly substituted, "- pair of scissors?" That wasn't quite as bad, but still something child-unfriendly.

The Doctor opened his small bag, reached in, and retrieved a pair of child's safety scissors. He held them up to Victoria. "Good job. Thank you. You can put them back." Then to Combs, "He definitely didn't have those before."

"Maybe it's because he thinks like a child that he can only withdraw child-type items."

"No, the only things in there are what he's put in there. The bag holds items, it doesn't manifest them."

The next question went unasked - Combs knew it was dangerous to reach into the Doctor's bag. A D-Class had died trying on a test. Victoria said, "I've used his bag before. I know the trick to it." Then, "Doctor, may I use your bag?"

It was handed over. Victoria reached in. She knew the Doctor owned a dozen scalpels. She pictured the one she wanted in her mind, knowing it was in there. Her fingers closed around a thin handle.

She withdrew her hand from the bag. She was holding a plastic butter knife. "It was supposed to be a scalpel," she said, giving it back to the Doctor so he could put it away.

"So everything about him, including the objects in his bag that are not part of him, have been rendered harmless," said Combs.

"I know it's only been a few days since it was brought in, but do you know anything about the research on the new object?" asked Victoria.

Combs shook his head. "I don't know. It was taken to another Site."

"What?"

"The same Site as the affected humans," Combs explained. "Or would you prefer the testing be done on 049 and 035 rather than D-Class and the Serpent's Hand agents that were affected?"

Victoria let her anger out in a long breath. At least some of her anger. Combs was right. The Foundation wouldn't want to risk damaging their contained entities. "As long as they're researching it and not just zapping other dangerous entities with it willy-nilly."

"Willy-nilly," Amica repeated, amused. It flopped backwards into her lap, having been ignored long enough. "I want another muffin."

"I only brought the two," Combs told it.

"I want another muffin," Amica repeated forcefully. Combs eyes glazed over, but only for a second before he blinked the compulsion away.

"Amica, don't be demanding," Victoria told it. Then to Combs, "I don't know if 035 is using its abilities on purpose or not. If the theory that the unknown object made it harmless is true, you're in no real danger, but you might end up being forced to bring it snacks."

Combs nodded. "I'll talk to you again once the medical staff let you go and 035 and 049 can be distracted."

Chapter Text

The medical staff let Victoria go soon after she finished breakfast - after all, she only had broken fingers and rope burn around her neck, there wasn't anything else they could do for her. They gave her instructions on how to look after her hand, some painkillers, and a tube of cream to rub on the burn every so often, and then summoned a guard for the walk of shame back to Light Containment - Victoria was still in her pyjamas, after all.

Back in her containment, Victoria got Amica and the Doctor to wash their sticky, muffin-crumbed hands and faces, and debated taking a shower herself. Given how generally gross she was feeling after the night she'd had, she figured she needed one.

Her bathroom was separate from her main containment, but didn't have a door. The shower and toilet were blocked from the room's security camera for a little bit of privacy, but the designers of the containment didn't want the SCPs to be able to hide. Amica and the Doctor hadn't shown any interest in bothering her in the bathroom - they'd only come in when she was in visible distress, puking her guts out - and she decided not to worry about it much. A doctor and an Alagaddan weren't going to be traumatised by nudity if they came barging in.

Victoria put on some instrumental jazz for Amica and the Doctor, told them she was going to take a shower and to keep themselves entertained, but they could get her if they needed her. She left Amica pulling the Doctor around in a very ungraceful dance and set about the business of trying to shower one-handed with a plastic bag tied over her left hand to protect the splints.

She had just started towelling off when there was a knock at her containment door. It swished open and there was a pause as the newcomer couldn't locate the room's primary occupant. "West? It's just me." Dr Usher.

"Give me a few minutes," Victoria called back.

"Victoria is taking a shower," Amica announced.

"Fine, I'll just talk to you and your friend until she's ready," Usher told it. "I brought markers."

It ended up taking nearly fifteen minutes for Victoria to dry off, put her clothes on one-handed, and get her hair in some semblance of order. When she finally emerged, she found Usher, Amica, and the Doctor sitting quietly on the floor, the latter two utterly absorbed in drawing. Usher got to her feet and smiled. "There doesn't seem to be any proper kids' stuff around, but I raided the art therapy supplies. They didn't have crayons and I thought you wouldn't appreciate it if I brought them paint."

They walked over closer to the containment door and Usher's smile dropped. "Fucking 2264-4 tried to kill you and you survived."

"2264-4 wanted to kill 035, I was just in the way. So much for it always giving a warning before it shows up," said Victoria bitterly. "But it seemed to be here on its own scheme, not under orders. 035 scared it off by threatening to tattle to 2264-5."

Usher's eyebrows raised. "From my research, I was pretty sure that 2264-4 was the real power behind the throne. I wouldn't have thought it cared what 2264-5 wanted."

"I don't know, I don't understand their politics. 2264-4 referred to 2264-5 as the author of the play and itself as the director. Maybe 2264-4 still needs -5 to do whatever it does," said Victoria. "But why not kill 035 anyway?"

"I have no idea," said Usher. "Maybe 2264-4 thought it could kill 035 without 2264-5 knowing and just show up all, 'oh, look what those horrible humans did, so tragic, guess we need a new Black Lord.' From your report about your time in 2264-B, it sounds like 2264-5 lets 035 get away with a lot. Maybe it's the favourite and 2264-5 would be pissed at whoever killed 035."

"Maybe. The security camera actually worked?"

"Yeah, I expected the video would be corrupted, but it wasn't," said Usher. "A little after 200 hours, 035 jolts upright and 2264-4 just appears like it was there the whole time, it just couldn't be seen until it moved. 049 also takes notice and both of them grabbed each other and shrank back against you. That was when you woke up."

Usher shook her head. "It bothers me that the whole encounter came through perfectly clear. I know 2264-4 appears in the 701 tapes, I just somehow didn't expect it here. It doesn't care that we can see it, that we can prove it exists. It knows there's nothing we can do." She glanced down at Victoria's injured hand. "Combs also said you injured yourself for information."

Victoria grimaced. "I asked why there are no children in Alagadda. I was trying to find a loophole to save 035. 2264-4 said it was for 'balance' and then called me an idiot for assuming it meant population control - that since no one really dies in Alagadda, no one can be born."

"I'll look into it. Maybe it's some sort of riddle or has some double-meaning."

Usher left. Victoria went to check on Amica and the Doctor. They were still entirely fixated on their drawings.

The Doctor's had a lot of red. The middle of the page was taken up by a childish scribble of a person lying down, apparently in the middle of an autopsy. The major organs were present and in the right places. Parts of the body were scribbled over with black, with black clouds above them. Pestilence, maybe.

Amica's was almost nice at first glance. It had drawn itself, the Doctor, and Victoria holding hands, like a child's family portrait. Victoria noted that Amica had dressed her in black. However, the sky was yellow and dotted with black stars, and on the ground lay three large figures - red, yellow, and white, with black blood scrawled all over them.

Chapter Text

"If they were ordinary children, this would be messed up."

It had been several days since an unknown anomalous object had transformed Amica and the Doctor into the physical and mental equivalent of three-year-olds. It had also affected the MTF soldiers and the Serpent's Hand agents who were fighting over it, but they weren't Victoria's problem.

In that time, Drs Combs and Usher had managed to scrounge up some toys for the affected entities, and Research Assistant Forrester had provided a selection of child-friendly musicals, since Amica and the Doctor had turned up their masked noses to more standard kiddie shows.

Amica and the Doctor were currently distracted from stacking blocks with a plate of apple slices - Combs had learned quickly that the two entities were like cats who had once been given a treat. If he didn't bring an offering, Amica would try to use mind-control on him to go get one. The Doctor was more polite, but had no interest in stopping Amica if it ended in snacks.

Combs sat at the small desk in Victoria's containment, flipping through a stack of pictures that the Doctor had drawn. There were a few of cottages and lavender, of Amica and Victoria and himself, but most were anatomical drawings. The Doctor also liked adding blood. The red marker had quickly run dry from the Doctor's art.

Victoria nodded. "Their basic identities have remained intact. 049 is the Doctor. He's fascinated by biology and wants to heal people. He splinted my fingers very well for someone without proper supplies or an adult's manual dexterity. He still has his medical knowledge. I don't know if he can consciously access it, but it's there."

"Yes, and given his preferred procedures, the higher-ups aren't going to be happy about that," Combs agreed glumly.

Victoria's mouth drew into a thin line. The Doctor had never been able to explain the Pestilence, but now, with a toddler's thought processes and vocabulary, he was even harder to communicate with. He sensed something bad. People were sick. "There's more."

She retrieved a box from a low shelf that used to hold books but now held children's activities. She set it on the desk. "Oh," said Combs.

"Usher brought in a couple dolls," said Victoria. "She had intended them for 035, since it likes imaginative play. But it doesn't care for dolls - it wants to be the main character, not live vicariously through a toy. It lost interest, so the Doctor took them."

The two cloth dolls had been, to an untrained eye, mutilated. Victoria and Combs recognised surgery. They'd seen this sort of work on enough SCP-049-2 instances. It must have taken some very focused, painstaking effort to take apart the dolls with child-safe tools, but the Doctor had managed it, opening them up, removing limbs, then sticking them back together with more raven-printed band-aids. "His patients," said Victoria. "He takes them out to work on every so often. He added plasticine organs to them as well." Not very well-made, but enough that Victoria had understood what the Doctor was doing.

Combs inspected the dolls without touching them. "If it's the worst-case scenario and they can't be restored to adults, 049 could be raised and trained on modern medical techniques."

"I don't think it would make any difference."

In certain ways it was fortunate that Victoria had been fired and locked up in an institution. It meant she didn't have a job or need to cook or clean or do other housekeeping activities. It meant she could devote almost all of her time to Amica and the Doctor. Mostly Amica. While the Doctor generally found his own quiet amusements, Amica wanted attention most of the time.

Not always from Victoria, it also wanted to play with the Doctor, but Victoria rarely made it through writing her notes without Amica calling for her to play, to dance, to brush its hair, or even just to sit and cuddle with it with it while it watched a movie. So much for the electronic babysitter.

While Dr Combs' approach to the Doctor was more clinical, talking to Victoria about what the Doctor had been up to, Dr Usher preferred to talk directly to Amica and only checking with Victoria for confirmation. It might have simply been a difference of style, but Victoria was pretty sure it was just because Usher found the two SCPs-turned-toddlers adorable and wanted to interact.

Today's bribe was a plain milk chocolate bar that could be broken into squares for sharing. Victoria had the vague idea that kids weren't supposed to have candy that young. Well, they weren't ordinary children, she wasn't too worried about it. What was sugar going to do to two entities who didn't sleep anyway, keep them awake all night?

Amica had placed itself in her lap, sitting on Victoria like its throne. The Doctor stuck close, on the side away from Usher. He wanted to be where the chocolate was.

Usher was looking through Amica's drawings. She picked out one of red, yellow, black, and white buildings that were sticking out in all directions. Behind them was a yellow sky and dots of black stars. "Is that your home?" she asked Amica, setting the picture in front of it.

Amica's aspect became tragic as it nodded. "Yes."

"But it makes you sad?" asked Usher. "Are you sad because you're here instead?"

"No. It's bad there. I could make it better." It considered that. "It's bad here."

Usher flipped through the drawings. There were many of Alagadda. "Is there anything good about home?"

"It's home," said Amica simply.

"Is there anything good about here?"

Amica wiggled a bit. "Doctor and Victoria are here."

"That's all? Not even music or food?"

"There's music at home, too. The food is better there." It eyed the chocolate bar anyway.

Usher took the hint and broke off pieces for Amica and the Doctor. "What's wrong with the food here?"

The small chocolate square vanished into the tragic mouth. "It just tastes like food. Food at home tastes like memories."

Usher's gaze flicked to Victoria. Victoria shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I ate 2264-B food, but I barely remember. It was like little bonbons, I think, or tiny cakes. Bite-sized things they can just pop into their mouth holes."

"I would have thought their food would be more luxurious. Sensual," said Usher.

"If their food tastes like memories, maybe those are the senses being titillated, rather than the physical texture," Victoria mused. "But it must have some sort of nutritional value, even if the 2264's don't need it. 049 was there for some time and didn't starve to death."

Usher looked past Victoria and Amica to the Doctor. "I've tried to talk to it about its time in 2264-B. If it didn't remember as an adult, it won't remember now."

It was jarring to hear the Doctor referred to as 'it' again. Even Combs referred to the Doctor as 'he' around Victoria and the Doctor because the Doctor was more cooperative with researchers who talked to him like a colleague and not a test subject. Amica always referred to itself and other Alagaddans as 'it,' so it wasn't as noticeable that Usher was just following protocol.

Usher continued through the small stack of drawings. She wasn't as interested in the ones of itself, Victoria, or the Doctor, but paused on every picture of Alagadda to ask questions. Amica seemed willing to answer all of them, though it quickly became apparent that its answers were inconsistent or obviously made up on the spot. Usher tsked. "I thought you might be more truthful like this."

Amica shrugged and kicked its feet. "I tell stories."

"I want you to tell me true stories," said Usher.

"Home is stories," said Amica, like that settled it.

To Victoria's surprise, Usher didn't get annoyed like most people did when Amica admitted to lying. "So everything's true, because telling the story makes it true."

Amica's aspect flickered to comedy and it nodded so vigorously that a mask that wasn't fused on by eldritch goo would have fallen off. "Yes! Here things are always the same! Home is stories!"

"Fuck me, this could be the breakthrough," Usher breathed. "What if 035's lying and messing around over the centuries wasn't necessarily malicious, it's just ... what it is. It's not lies, it's normal and neutral for a place made of stories."

"It fucks with the Foundation to be malicious," said Victoria.

"Yeah, but we locked it up for two-hundred years and it hates us." Usher reached for the stack of papers again.

The next drawing was a humanoid drawn in gray, sitting on a throne and wearing a spiky crown. Where the face should be was a black oval. But Amica hadn't drawn an oval and filled it in, it had drawn a spiral over and over again.

Usher dropped the paper as if it had burned her. "Is that ..."

"I never saw 2264-5," said Victoria, curious rather than afraid. Amica had insisted that she and the Doctor not look at the Hanged King lest their minds be melted, but this drawing was just a drawing. Maybe the Black Lord's brand was able to protect her from this crude depiction though it couldn't protect her from the real thing.

"My King!" said Amica proudly, aspect changed to comedy. "And Victoria's King and the Doctor's King! But not Usher's." At that last sentence, its aspect became tragic, like it was Usher's loss not to be one of the Hanged King's subjects.

Victoria poked Amica. "But it's not my or the Doctor's King. We're from Earth, not your home."

Amica grabbed her left forearm with all three of its left hands. "Victoria and the Doctor are mine. I am my King's. So you are our King's." Like solving a math problem. "It's the wrong colour, though. My King isn't any colour."

Usher had been completely thrown off by coming face to non-face with the Hanged King. Scribbly as it was, it had been drawn by one of its own advisors. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay. I got plenty of information from this session. I'm going back to my office to write my report. West, could you put ... that -" she pointed to the drawing of the Hanged King, refusing to touch it, "- somewhere safe for now? I'll send someone to get it secured in a locker."

Chapter Text

Research took time. Victoria knew that. Especially research into unknown anomalous, possibly-magical objects. She wouldn't be any help with the research even if the object was still at Site-19 - she was an engineer and a cryptobiologist.

But for the last month, she had been a babysitter. Worse, she babysitting her own spouses, turned into three-year-olds by an unknown anomalous object.

It would be easier if she knew when it would end. If it would end, if the effect would eventually wear off or if the Foundation could figure out how to reverse the effects. They had to be trying, didn't they? A few Foundation guards had been transformed as well. But the guards were generally considered acceptable losses.

Amica and the Doctor were still as much trouble as they had been as adults, but without the danger - the transformation had also rendered them harmless. Their favourite method of breaching containment was to wait for Victoria to fall asleep, then Amica would press itself against the door, waiting for someone to pass by in the hallway close enough that it could compel them to open the door. If the victim was weak-willed, they would then be further compelled to take Amica and the Doctor somewhere - usually the cafeteria or a break room for midnight snacks. If the victim could resist further compulsion, Amica would take off surprisingly fast on its short legs, just for the joy of making someone's life difficult. The Doctor sometimes followed, sometimes stayed in containment. Sometimes the victim had the Pestilence, and the Doctor would use his touch to render them unconscious. The victim would wake up after ten minutes or so, covered in band-aids with a half-size plague doctor sitting on them and insisting that they take their medicine. Laboratory tests showed the 'medicine' to be non-anomalous coloured water. The colour was made with non-toxic plant dyes.

There had been talk of moving the three of them out of Victoria's room in Light Containment and into a more secure area. Victoria's answer had been, "035's telepathic range has an effective radius of about five feet. Walk on the far side of the hallway." At some point someone had put hazard tape on the hallway floor to mark the danger zone.

Victoria had come to look forward to Combs' and Usher's visits, even if they were just on business. They were her only chance to talk to other adults.

"No news," said Combs, after Victoria asked him how the research on the object was coming. They would have to tell him - one of his subjects had been affected.

She must have shown more than just annoyance or disappointment on her face when Combs' expression softened. "I know this has been hard on you. I wish I had more information for you."

Victoria automatically smoothed her expression. There were only two people she had ever willingly shown weakness to, and right now she had to be strong for them. If she showed weakness, the Foundation might decide she wasn't good enough to be Amica and the Doctor's caretaker and they would be taken from her. Her gaze sought them out, on the far side of her containment, stacking blocks into what was possibly a model of the Palace of Melancholy, happily munching the cheese and crackers Combs had brought them. "I still have them. I still love them, and they love me. The relationship is different, that's all."

"West." Combs sighed. "I'm your researcher. I'm on your side. I'm not going to take them from you. You don't have to pretend you're fine with all this."

Victoria felt a pain in her throat that hurt as much as when the Ambassador of Alagadda had its rope around her neck. "I miss being their wife."

There. She'd said it. She looked away from him, hating the thought of anyone seeing her tears. Anyone but her spouses. "I know. I'm selfish. I want that relationship back. I want the conversations, the working together, the give-and-take, the intimacy. I want to be cared for as well as care."

"That's not selfish," said Combs. "You might not have lost 049 and 035 themselves, but you lost your spouses. It's a big deal."

"What happens if the Foundation can't reverse it, or chooses not to because they think they'll be easier to contain like this? Do I raise them to adulthood? What happens then? Will they even grow up or does the transformation lock them at this age?" Victoria demanded, clenching her fists and biting back a wince - the splints were finally off her left hand but it was still tender. "Or what if the Foundation figures out how to reverse it, but not for another ten years? We won't be able to go back to the way we were, not if I've been Mommy for so long. It would be creepy."

She sighed. "I never wanted kids. I just don't have the instinct," said Victoria. "I love Amica and the Doctor because they're them, despite them being transformed into children."

"You don't have to do this alone, West. I can get someone else in to help -"

"No."

"Part-time -"

"No," Victoria repeated. "You don't understand, Combs - this is all I have left. The romantic-sexual relationship I had with them has ended, I'm not breaking that rule any more, but do you really think the Foundation would rehire Vicki the Monsterfucker? At least this way I can still be with them and study the effects of the new object instead of losing everything."

Hours later, lying in bed, Victoria couldn't get her conversation with Combs out of her head. She was alone - Amica and the Doctor had chosen to continue playing quietly on the floor. They sometimes did, then she'd wake up covered in toddlers. Victoria still slept better when they were with her, regardless of the circumstances. They were changed but they were together and she didn't feel so alone.

Combs was nice about it but he couldn't really understand. She'd only been married to Amica and the Doctor for a few months. Was that her life? Forty years of always feeling like she wasn't enough or too much, of trying to be the best because then maybe someone would care, then a few months of joy, then forty more years knowing what she was missing?

She wouldn't give up Amica and the Doctor. That was unthinkable. They were hers, even if the relationship had changed. But she missed that relationship. They had been everything she denied she wanted because she couldn't have it. The Doctor's arms were the home where she would always be welcome. Amica was every indulgence she'd denied herself as she tried to be the perfect professional. She could be her whole self with them and it was never too much.

Victoria couldn't even find comfort in her memories. Thinking about the Doctor's murmured endearments as his long hands touched her, or Amica's laughter and playful demands made her feel uneasy now, like it was wrong to remember them as adult sexual beings with the way they were now. Maybe, with time, she would come to think of those memories as different people, perhaps as the parents of the two children in her charge. Like the two adult entities had died and left their children in her custody. But that wasn't fair to them. They were alive, just different.

None of it was fair. Amica and the Doctor had lost hundreds to thousands of years of experience. Maybe Victoria had lost less by comparison, but she felt like she'd lost everything. Here she was, exactly what her parents had wanted for her - helpless and caged, no job, nothing in her life but raising children. She was finally a Good Woman.

Victoria fell asleep seething.

Saluti, mia fiamma.

Chapter Text

"Saluti, mia fiamma."

Victoria was in an empty black space, wearing her pyjamas and glasses. Before, Amica used to visit Victoria in her dreams almost every night. It was able to do so through their bond.

So Victoria recognised that this was dream communication. However, it didn't feel as real as it did with Amica, the connection was weaker. The voice wasn't a smooth baritone purr or even that oddly-deep child's voice, but a grating hiss just below a falsetto.

It's a dream. It can't hurt you for real. It's just a dream.

"My Victoria, you know I could dream you to Alagadda, where this would be very real. But I don't want to deal with Diligence and Mirth whining." The Yellow Lord stepped out of the shadows, the light in its eyeholes flickering.

She felt her fists clench. She was terrified of Odious but her fight-or-flight response was stuck on 'fight.' "Odious. How the fuck did you get here?"

It circled its centipede-like body around Victoria, not close enough to touch, just hemming her in. "You're finally angry enough that I can reach you." It settled itself on its first few sets of elbows, using its tail as a pillow, and looked at Victoria. "Anguish keeps you too happy. I worried that it had ruined you."

"You intended to rape me to death," Victoria reminded it flatly.

"It would have been glorious," said Odious, utterly unbothered. "Unfortunately this isn't a social call. What happened to Anguish? We know it's been changed. I could just tear the information from your mind, but I prefer the sound of your voice."

Was this Odious' idea of flirting or of kindness? Victoria was fairly certain it would in fact prefer to rip the information from her. "An anomalous object transformed it so it has the appearance and mental capacity of a three-year-old human. We're trying to figure out how the object works. The Ambassador already tried to kill it, so you can fuck off."

The Odious Mask flickered expressions several times, too quickly for Victoria to see what its other aspect was. It settled back on the snarl. "Oh it did, did it?"

"The Black Lord threatened to tell the King. That seemed to get rid of it."

"Hmm, so destroying Anguish is not the will of our King. Which means sending our own assassins wouldn't end well for us. Too bad." Odious settled itself more comfortably. "Diligence wants you to bring Anguish to Alagadda. I suppose you would insist on bringing the little doctor man as well."

Victoria folded her arms. "And how do you expect me to do that?"

"There are ways. Ardente hasn't been moved from your fortress, it knows the way," said Odious. "I don't care what happens to Anguish, but Mirth and Diligence want it back. Bring Anguish to us and you won't need to rely on your Foundation, you'll have all the science and magic of Alagadda working to restore it to its proper self."

"What if it can't be done?"

Odious tapped its claws against its tail. "Diligence has considered that, and I think it prefers that outcome. It has the idea that if Anguish can't be restored, then Diligence can educate it properly. Give it a second chance to be what it was meant to be."

Odious lifted itself up, uncoiling slightly as it came towards her. It didn't seem in a violent mood, so Victoria decided not to kick it or try to break its arms in case such action would spur it to attack. She took two steps backwards, then tripped on one of Odious' arms and fell to sit on its back.

Its lower arms slipped out from under its robes and grabbed her ankles to hold her in place. Odious set two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up. "And if you crave mature company, you are always welcome in my - What the fuck?"

It was nothing Victoria had done. Odious leaned down to get a better look at her neck before rearing back, eyeholes blazing. "The Ambassador harmed you."

The rope burn had faded away over the past four weeks, but apparently it was visible in this dream. "What the fuck do you care? You wanted to kill me."

"You are not its to harm. You are mine."

Odious uncoiled and slithered off into the darkness, presumably to go beat up the Ambassador. Good. Those assholes can rip each other apart.

The dream faded into a true dream that Victoria wouldn't remember in the morning, but she would remember Odious.

Victoria woke up with a pair of small masks pressing against her neck. She reached up, patting the Doctor's hood and ruffling Amica's hair. "Mmph. You two are clingy this morning."

"Victoria had a bad dream," said Amica.

"Odious paid me a visit," Victoria agreed. "It told me that Diligence and Mirth want you to go home." She couldn't tell it that they wanted to restore it to its former self - Amica had no idea that any transformation had occurred.

"I don't want to."

"I know, Amica." The problem was, the offer was extremely tempting.

Victoria had no way of knowing how the Foundation's work at figuring out the unknown anomalous object was coming. Hell, it had to have a numerical designation by now and no one had told her what it was. The Foundation might even prefer Amica and the Doctor as toddlers, weak and harmless.

But Alagadda. They wanted Amica to be restored, they would do everything in their power to help it. The other Humours hated the Doctor, but he seemed to have a bit of protection - hadn't the Hanged King let all three of them go? The King seemed to want her and the Doctor alive. And once Amica was restored to itself, it would turn its efforts to helping the Doctor.

Odious would be a problem. It wanted her and she didn't have the power to fend it off. Fighting back only made it want her more. Diligence just wanted a return to the status quo, but Mirth had sided with Amica when they stood before the King. Maybe there was some protection there ...

What Victoria should do with the information was to tell Usher that Ardente might be able to escape on its own whenever it wants and to put more security around it. That it seems to be in contact with the Yellow Lord even while contained. What she did was quietly tuck the knowledge away, just in case. Ardente had been classified Euclid and didn't have any dangerous anomalous abilities that could help it breach that the Foundation knew of, it was up in Light Containment. She didn't know exactly where, but she could find out without raising suspicions.

Chapter Text

Combs dropped a bundle of fabric on the end of Victoria's bed. "What's that?" she asked.

"A selection of work-out clothes. I didn't know what you'd be most comfortable with, so take your pick." At Victoria's raised eyebrow, Combs continued, "I'm your researcher and responsible for your well-being. This is to get you a bit active and give you a change of scenery. And it goes without saying that we're bringing 049 and 035 as well."

"I have enhanced strength, Combs. I don't need to exercise."

"You're over forty. Moving sometimes is good for you."

"I'm only letting you get away with saying that because you're older than me." Combs was forty-six to Victoria's forty-three.

"I do stretches every morning," said Combs mildly. "But I've asked Joanna Legrasse to show you what to do." Legrasse was one of the Doctor's regular guards - non-Pestilent. She wouldn't set him off.

Amica was already picking through the clothing. "None of it is black. It should be black."

"SCPs wear gray and white," said Victoria. Not entirely true, but the Standard Humanoid Jumpsuit was gray. Amica had been given several, with extra sleeves, because it only had the one Alagaddan outfit when it was transformed. Amica had thrown an epic tantrum when it was told it had to wear them. It had spent a day naked and sulking before deciding that, fine, it would wear the hated jumpsuits if it had to. It had no modesty but it preferred to wear clothes.

Combs went to the door. "Choose something and be ready in ten minutes."

Victoria picked out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. Socks and shoes were also provided. Shorts and a t-shirt would probably be more sensible, but deadly skin needed to be covered up.

When Combs returned, Legrasse was with him. Legrasse had work-out clothes as well, Combs was still in business casual and a lab coat. Victoria took Amica and the Doctor's hands and they went to the Light Containment Gym.

It wasn't as big as the staff gym. The staff gym was for socialising as well as exercising. SCPs were generally not encouraged to socialise, so this room, while well-equipped, was really for one or two at a time.

Combs held up his clipboard. "West, I'm going to have Legrasse teach you some basic stretches that you should be able to do in your containment. You are permitted access to the gym if you decide you'd like to use the machines, though you'll need to be added to the schedule. Many other SCPs use it."

"And you will be babysitting?" asked Victoria. Amica and the Doctor had let go of her hands to inspect the nearest equipment.

"I'm going to run tests on 035 and 049 - no, nothing strenuous," said Combs. "Checking if 049 still has anomalous strength and speed. Mostly just getting them to run around and play and I write a report and call it an experiment." Then, feeling two more pairs of eyes watching him suspiciously, "You'll get muffins and juice afterwards."

"I want muffins and juice now," ordered Amica.

Combs shook off the compulsion. "No, because I will order them from the cafeteria after we're done."

Victoria gave Amica a light tap on the forehead. "Amica, stop trying to hypnotise Combs. Sometimes you need to wait."

"I don't want to."

"You don't even need to eat," Victoria pointed out. "I'm going to be doing exercises with Legrasse over there. You can either hang out and watch me or you can play with Combs."

"Dr Combs is our friend," said the Doctor quietly. "I will play with Dr Combs."

Amica pouted for a moment - a full-body pout since its face only showed tragedy - but then made up its mind and apparently decided that if the adults weren't going to be any fun, it was going to stick with its fellow child. "I will play with the Doctor," Amica finally stated.

"Good enough," said Victoria.

Victoria and Legrasse went to the other side of the exercise room. "First I gotta put on some music," said Legrasse. "It's not a work-out without music."

There were a pair of speakers on the table. Legrasse plugged her MP3 player into them, fiddled with it, then it started playing pop music Victoria didn't recognise. Not that Victoria recognised much music after the early 2000's. Victoria glanced over at the others. Amica was already dancing along while Combs tried to organise it and the Doctor. Well, Combs would yell if he was in trouble.

For the next twenty minutes, Legrasse ran Victoria through various stretches that were probably nothing to a twenty-five year old soldier, but reminded Victoria that she was over forty and spent the last twenty years mostly sitting down. Legrasse had barely broken a sweat. Victoria felt damp. She'd given up and removed her hoodie, with an additional warning to Legrasse that skin-contact was deadly so stay out of bumping range. Occasionally Amica and the Doctor ran past as Combs either tested their speed, stamina, or was just trying to wear them out.

When the two women took a break, Legrasse gestured for Victoria to take a water bottle. "Why are you so bad at this? I thought the Plague Doctor had made you superhuman."

"He primarily enhanced my strength by adjusting and reinforcing muscle attachments," said Victoria. "My joints and stamina are still middle-aged scientist."

They watched Amica and the Doctor. Combs seemed to have them handled fairly well. There hadn't been any screams, at least. Right now they were doing a hand-eye coordination test, or just tossing a ball between the three of them. Legrasse chuckled. "Doc's weirdly cute."

"049 or Combs?"

"049," Legrasse clarified. "Combs is old enough to be my dad."

"049 is old enough to be your many-times great-grandfather."

"Yeah, and you can feel that when it's, you know, its spooky adult self. But now it's a cute baby." The Doctor fumbled the ball, but immediately chased after it. "You think it was born with the mask?"

"No." They had been transformed, not age-regressed.

"Probably best for its mom, unless she laid an egg."

"He is not a bird."

Legrasse shrugged. "Okay, but the other one is the Possessive Mask, right? Why was it put on a six-armed mannequin? Why did we even have one? How does a mask even turn into a baby?"

Victoria didn't mind telling Legrasse a little about the Doctor - she knew a bit already from being assigned to him so often - but Amica was above her classification level so Victoria wasn't going to explain the whole 'it's an other-dimensional alien, that's an Alagaddan body' thing. "No idea."

"It's weirdly cute, too. Like a little bug." Legrasse took a swig of water, then her grin faded. "So ... you and the Plague Doctor had a thing." When Victoria's only reply was a tightening of her lips, Legrasse sighed. "Come on, I deliver you down to its containment at least once a week and I know it's, like, conjugal visits because I gotta search your bag and sometimes you have sex toys."

"We are not talking about this," Victoria ordered.

Legrasse disobeyed. "I don't mean it like that. I don't wanna think about old people fuckin'. I just mean ... it's got to be weird for you right now. One day you have your scary plague boyfriend then, wham, it's a little kid."

"Stranger things happen."

"Okay, fine, you don't wanna talk about it," Legrasse conceded. "Combs thought it could help you to talk and you might open up more to a woman in a non-interview environment."

Victoria shot a glare at Combs' back. "Is that why we are here?"

"Well, like, enrichment and exercise, too. Wanna see how much you can lift?"

Chapter Text

Victoria knew it was going to be bad news when Combs wanted to talk to her in her containment's observation room. An interview room would be more appropriate, but he knew that Victoria would get anxious and combative and think the Foundation was going to try to sneak Amica and the Doctor away from her if she was too far from them.

Victoria took a peek through the observation window. She'd deliberately placed her bed directly below it, since the angle gave her a little privacy. It didn't matter much, given that the room also had a video camera. The important part was that Amica and the Doctor were safe, sitting on the floor and occupied with a small tupperware full of apple and pear slices.

The observation room had a small desk. Combs waited, hands clasped on the table, until Victoria sat in the other chair. "They've figured out how to reverse the transformation," he said.

Victoria hadn't realised how tight her chest felt until those words loosened it. "Finally."

"They aren't going to," Combs continued. He had never been much good at hiding his emotions. He was angry about this, too.

The invisible hand clamped around her heart again. "Fuck them."

"They're keeping one of the D-Class they transformed as well," said Combs. "They want to see if she'll age normally. And they want to see if 049 will grow up at all or if he doesn't age since he still has his anomalies."

"What about 035?"

"They think it will be easier to contain this way." Combs sighed. "I tried, West. I told them this would cause setbacks to researching 049. That there had already been an incident with 2264. They didn't want to hear it. They're more interested in using the object to render dangerous SCPs harmless, so they're leaving 049 and 035 transformed to study that."

Victoria clenched her fists. "Do you know the method of restoration? Was the object itself needed, or could a thaumaturge reverse it, or a reality-bender -"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me details. It isn't my project, it just affects my project." He slumped forwards onto his hands. "I'm sorry, Victoria. I know how hard this is on you. Please don't do anything rash."

"What can I do? I don't even know what Site they have the object at," Victoria huffed.

"I know you well enough to know you'll think of something, and it's going to go badly for you." Combs sat back up and held up his hands as if to deflect Victoria's glare. "You're self-aware enough to know what you're like - when you're in a bad situation, you don't ask anyone for help, you try to fight it head-on and you make things worse for yourself. You can't even say it hasn't killed you yet!"

"My plans are perfectly good for the information I have. If I knew what the Foundation did to reverse -" Victoria cut herself off. "No. That's not your fault. They're withholding the information from you, too."

"Please just ... make a plan around dealing with the situation as-is, not about how to breach and steal the object or whatever you're plotting. Take some time to think about it and try to accept the change in case it's permanent. Ask for help when you need it," said Combs. "I'll keep trying to get the higher-ups to reverse the decision. But I need you to stay out of trouble."

Victoria sagged back. "Fine. I'll try." Try to accept the change, he'd said. Not maybe you'll come to like it. He knew better than to try to spin things positively.

Once back in containment, Victoria kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the bed. Of course the Foundation wasn't going to help. Leaving Amica and the Doctor like this was an interesting experiment. It rendered two of the most dangerous SCPs in Site-19 harmless. If Victoria didn't know them like she did, if they weren't her spouses that she wanted back so badly, she would have agreed with the Foundation. It would be fascinating to know the results and it made Site-19 a little safer.

Small fingers patted her arm. Victoria turned her head to look into a pair of wide black voids. "Victoria is sad," Amica stated.

"Yes," Victoria agreed, sitting up. "Don't worry about it. I'll always love you."

Amica climbed up on the bed and curled up in Victoria's lap. The Doctor appeared a moment later, having a little more trouble getting on the bed since he had brought the fruit slices along with him. He held out a piece of apple. "Eat?"

The offer almost made Victoria burst into tears. Even like this, the Doctor tried to look after her. Food made him happy, it should make Victoria happy.

Victoria wasn't hungry but she ate a few slices of fruit for the Doctor. Once he was satisfied that his treatment was helping, he settled against Victoria's side and continued munching on his snack. Sometimes he handed a piece to Victoria or Amica. Amica remained curled in Victoria's lap. She pet its hair like petting a cat, and it hummed happily.

They were trying to comfort her, in their childlike ways. It was sweet and made Victoria feel incredibly guilty. It wasn't fair to them. She was the adult, it wasn't their responsibility to comfort her. She had to be strong and look after them.

Ask for help when you need it.

The only help that mattered was restoring Amica and the Doctor to their true selves. If she couldn't have that, she needed comfort and understanding, and there would be none of that in the Foundation. Combs was kind, but he was her researcher and couldn't be a friend. Her therapist would just tell her she needed friends - but even though Site-19 had a small enrichment program being tested, Victoria had never been good at making friends. And who would want her as a friend? She had nothing to offer.

There was only one being left she could ask for help.

Victoria was fairly certain that Odious hadn't lied to her, that it wasn't just a trick to lure her back to Alagadda. Odious didn't cajole or manipulate, it took. The only reason it hadn't simply kidnapped her in the dream was that the other Humours had different plans and would have punished it. But the other Humours didn't care what happened to her or the Doctor.

She couldn't trust Odious. She couldn't trust Alagadda.

But the Lords of Alagadda wanted Amica restored, while the Foundation would do nothing.

The risk of madness, torture, and death against the certainty of a lifetime of having lost the best thing she'd ever had.

She would give Combs a chance to get the decision reversed. He deserved that much of her trust.

But she would make discreet inquiries to the location of Ardente's containment.

Chapter Text

Victoria decided a few days ago that she would give Combs two weeks to try to get the Foundation to restore Amica and the Doctor. Then she would act. Not just out of impatience, but because Combs was taking a risk helping her. He didn't deserve to get in trouble for being kind.

She found out where Ardente was being kept. Since it was an Alagaddan, getting into its containment would probably take a Level Four keycard. Usher was Level Four. Which meant she was going to have to restrain Usher and try not to harm her. Odious said that Ardente had ways to return to Alagadda, but not how long it took. Getting to Ardente would be relatively easy, buying time to perform a ritual would be the hard part.

Right now, Victoria wasn't planning. Right now she was sitting on her bed, reading a book about medical alchemy aloud to Amica and the Doctor. She couldn't tell if they were getting anything from the text or if they just wanted to snuggle and be read to.

Then the breach alarms sounded.

Victoria hurried Amica and the Doctor into the bathroom. "Stay here and stay quiet," she commanded. "Don't come out until I tell you to, no matter what happens. No peeking. I'll protect you." She kissed them both on their masked foreheads, then went back out into the main room to wait.

The bathroom wasn't a good hiding place, but Amica and the Doctor might go unnoticed if someone broke in. After all, the only information sheet outside her door was her own. Someone who didn't know the situation would only see her and not bother searching.

But depending on the breach, if an SCP had escaped or a GoI was attacking, it might serve as cover to reach Ardente's containment, and from there to Alagadda.

Victoria's first assumption was that the Serpent's Hand had come for Amica and the Doctor, having learned that they had been affected by their object, but that was quickly disproved when her containment opened. Chaos Insurgency.

Victoria quickly found herself with a gun in her face. "Search the room," the Insurgent told his partner.

"For what?" Victoria demanded.

The Insurgent smirked. "We know what you've been up to, doctor."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

There were frightened children's wails as the other Insurgent dragged Amica and the Doctor out of the bathroom. "Command was right - the Foundation's got a breeding program."

Victoria was too flabbergasted to fight back when the first Insurgent shoved her out into the hallway. What kind of useless spy did they have here to get 'Dr West is a monsterfucker, Dr West is taking care of a couple anomalous children, therefore the Foundation is breeding baby anomalies' and miss the entire 'we stole a thing from the Serpent's Hand and it turned several people into kids' part?

As long as the Insurgents were going in the direction she wanted, Victoria let them hustle her and Amica and the Doctor along. When they tried to turn down a different hallway, likely to make their exit from the Site, Victoria pretended to stumble, let the Insurgent who was covering her grab the back of her lab coat - too close to use his rifle - and when he pulled her back up, she turned and elbowed him with enough force that she heard at least one rib break.

The other had needed both hands to drag Amica and the Doctor along. Victoria's fist lashed out, catching him on the chin with a punch that shattered his jaw and possibly broke his neck. Victoria didn't stick around to check. She had to make sure the first Insurgent didn't shoot her. A bare hand to his face left him dead within seconds.

Amica and the Doctor shook themselves free of the Insurgent that had been restraining them and clung to Victoria's coat. She pulled her glove back on. "Follow me. We're going to get out of here." She didn't head down the empty hall or back to her room, but deeper into Light Containment.

Usually the Chaos Insurgency went for the more dangerous SCPs, but it seemed today they thought they would do better with less-impressive but probably easier to control Safe and Euclid Class. Several SCPs were in the hallway, being pushed around and herded by the Insurgency. Some Foundation guards had arrived, but they were being cautious, not wanting to kill the SCP entities.

Victoria caught sight of Ardente being harassed by a pair of Insurgents, but it seemed to pick up on her presence - or, more likely, Amica's - because it looked up. Its mask was set in a perpetual scowl, but somehow its message was clear: I know what you need, I have my instructions.

Ardente stopped pretending to be helpless. It grabbed a knife from where it was strapped to an Insurgent, and cut both of its captors' throats in one graceful stroke. Victoria tugged on Amica and the Doctor's hands. "Come on. We have to go that way."

Ardente practically danced towards them in a whirl of blood. Another fifteen feet -

A woman's anguished scream pierced through the commotion: "Put me back, you have to put me back, please, there's too much - !"

And then Amica was off like a shot in the other direction, easily weaving past soldiers who weren't used to half-size targets. Victoria scooped the Doctor up under one arm like a football and chased after Amica. She'd been as cautious as possible before, but she couldn't protect Amica if it wasn't with her.

An Insurgent had a short woman by the arm, a woman in a Standard Humanoid Jumpsuit and black liquid streaming down her face. Victoria caught up just as Amica barrelled into the woman, hugging her around the legs and wailing, "Dolores, help me!"

The hallway went black.

The lights hadn't gone out, they were smothered by shadow. The shadows also smothered the sounds, except for Amica's voice, supernaturally amplified: "Bad people. I don't like you."

Victoria went to her knees as she was hit with an overwhelming feeling of misery - no. Anguish. She gathered the Doctor close, shielding him as best she could from whatever was happening. He was crying as well, little whimpering sobs that shook his small body. Victoria buried her face in his hood, her tears rolling down the leather.

"Victoria -" The Doctor held her so tight that she was sure he would leave bruises.

"I've got you, Doctor. I won't let anyone hurt you."

A hand grabbed Victoria's shoulder. "Venga con me. Il Signore Nero sa cavarsela da solo."

Victoria looked up into Ardente's mask. Blast it, it doesn't speak English and I don't speak Italian.

"No," said the Doctor, who did. "Restiamo con il nostro amico."

"Rimani allora, piccola peste. Il mio signore vuole solo la donna." Ardente tugged on Victoria's arm.

Victoria easily shook it off. "Doctor, what is it saying?"

The Doctor glared at Ardente through tears. "It wants to take you away."

'You,' not 'us.' Victoria tightened her grip on the Doctor. "I'm not going anywhere without you or Amica."

"It is sick," said the Doctor. "It is bad."

"Vieni con me ade-" Ardente began, then shrieked as a shadow wrapped around it and pulled it back into the darkness.

Amica's voice screamed from everywhere: "Bad, bad, BAD!"

Then there were many screams, and wet sounds. Most of the screams stopped.

The power of the Black Lord of Alagadda, but with a child's mind, a child's lack of control ...

Amica and the Doctor know what they are, at least on some level, but not who they are ...

Maybe, with all this power running through it, with its telepathy, its alien nature ...

Victoria yelled out: "Amica! SCP-035! You are the Black Lord of the Anguished Mask! The Black Lord of Alagadda! There are no children in Alagadda, there never were! You need to remember! You're as old as the human race and you're my consort!" It wasn't much, but it was mostly to get Amica's attention on her. Victoria focused on her memories with Amica, good and bad, everything it had told her about itself, what the Doctor had told her, what she remembered of Alagadda, and hoped that Amica would feel and understand.

"Victoria!" Amica cried back, then, in a deeper, richer, strangely-layered voice, "Victoria."

The darkness in the corridor drew in, flowed towards one point: the Black Lord, all seven feet of it in rich, brocade robes, mask long and angular and tragic. It still held the crying woman with one massive hand - she was looking up at it, frozen in terror.

There were a lot of blood and body parts, and various other frightened and weeping SCPs, but none of it mattered. The world seemed to waver around the Black Lord, as if its power was overflowing or the beetle-like form was merely an illusion over something greater and more alien. "Victoria," it said again. "I might have popped the Foundation guards as well in my enthusiasm. You will forgive me, won't you, love?"

The Black Lord acting smarmy was something Victoria could deal with. "What the Hell?" she demanded.

The tragic face became comic. "Dolores here - I met her briefly during a previous breach but I don't remember much, and she doesn't remember me at all, very odd - she's an empath who feels all the sorrows of everyone on Earth. Everyone. I don't have the power of Alagadda while on Earth, but right now I have more. There are so many humans, so many miserable, anguished humans, and all of it flows through Dolores. When I went to her, it was only because I sensed she held the power to make the scary soldiers go away. Now I can do so, so much more."

"Do your grand plans involve restoring the Doctor?" asked Victoria. The Doctor still clung to Victoria's hand but was gazing up at the Black Lord in wonder.

"Mm, he's adorable that way, but I prefer him tall." It held out one of its lower hands. "Come, my Doctor. Let's get you sorted out."

The Doctor went to the Black Lord, Victoria refusing to let go of his hand. When the Doctor's small fingers touched the Black Lord's massive ones, there was a flicker and the Doctor stood again, tall and lanky. Victoria put an arm around him to steady him. "Mon Dieu," he murmured, voice again a raspy tenor.

"Oh, you get to call me 'friend,'" the Black Lord teased. "Or 'consort.'"

"Je pense que je dois m'allonger."

"Come here, dear husband." The Black Lord easily took the Doctor from Victoria, supporting him with its heavy arms.

Now the Black Lord turned its attention to Victoria. "My Victoria. My wife. I didn't have the power to do this before, even in Alagadda."

Before Victoria could tell it not to do whatever it was planning, she felt the blackness fill her, cool and dry and heavy. When it withdrew, she knew something was different but she couldn't tell what.

The Black Lord grinned down at her. "Our Doctor gave you gifts when he performed his Cure - your strength, your deadly touch. Now I can give you mine - control of that deadly touch and immunity to my corrosion. Kiss me, wife."

This might as well be happening. Victoria took off her gloves and reached up to touch one of the Black Lord's tears with her fingers. When that didn't burn, she leaned up. The Black Lord bent down so Victoria could reach it. She put her hands on either side of the Anguished Mask and kissed it on the tip of its nose, then on the cheek, then once on the smiling lower lip. The black bile that dripped from it tasted foul, but it didn't matter.

She could have torn the mask off. She could have used her deadly touch, either on the Black Lord or the crying woman it was drawing power from. Maybe she should have. Instead she unbuttoned the top several buttons of the Black Lord's vest and shirt. If she was standing in front of an HK-Class End-of-the-World Scenario, she might as well finally get to touch her consort.

Victoria rested her forehead and palms against the Black Lord's broad, bared chest. She had touched it before in dreams and now wondered how those could have ever been a substitute for the real thing. The alien body was solid and cool, the chitin hard but flexible, the underskin soft as a flower petal, smelling of dried flowers pressed between the pages of a book and the earthy tang of black bile. Above her, the Black Lord sighed, apparently just as entranced by the contact.

A hand touched her back - too small and warm to be the Black Lord's hand, the long, careful fingers she had missed so much. Victoria turned her head to look up at the Doctor, still resting her head against the Black Lord. The Doctor's eyes were wet and confused, but he was there. They were both there. She had them back. Whatever happened next, they were together.

She was distantly aware of shouting and gunfire, but none of it reached them. Victoria wouldn't have noticed if it did. The sheer relief of having her spouses back, knowing that it was over and she could rest, the emotional exhaustion of the previous months finally caught up with her. Victoria nuzzled against the Black Lord's chest, looked up into the Doctor's gray eyes. "I'm so tired. Take me home."

There was a pleased rumble above her. "Only the best for my -"

Then the Black Lord screamed as if it was being torn apart.

Amica collapsed - adult-sized, in its humanoid Alagaddan body that had been granted to it by the Hanged King. Several Foundation guards grabbed it and started to carry it away. A couple grabbed the crying woman.

"What did you do to it?" Victoria screamed.

The Doctor had fallen to his knees when Amica collapsed, but got back up and started after the guards taking it. He was stopped a few steps later when another guard jabbed an electric prod into his back.

Victoria was about to turn to shout at and probably kick the guard but then her world became electric pain.

Chapter Text

Memory returned, hazy at first, then in sharp clarity.

"SOME FUCKER TASED ME!"

With that out of her system, Victoria could take stock of her situation: she was in a medical containment room, lying on a bed, and not shackled to it. By the table, Combs and Usher were looking at her, startled.

Usher recovered first. "She sounds fine."

Before Victoria could ask, Combs said, "035 and 049 are back in containment. 035 was not removed from its host. They're fine, though confused and upset. And both adult, with their full memories intact."

Victoria took a deep breath and nodded, the fight drained out of her knowing her spouses were safe. "Thank you. Good. What happened to 035?"

"One of the guards threw a Scranton Reality Anchor at it. That disrupted whatever it was doing and caused it to revert back to its humanoid form," said Combs. "You had it distracted."

"What was 035 talking to you about?" asked Usher.

"It said that it used its power to make me immune to its corrosive and gave me the ability to control my death-touch," Victoria admitted.

"I'm not volunteering," said Combs. "We'll do tests later."

Usher raised her eyebrows. "So ... the only reason we're not thralls of god-king 035 is because instead of immediately taking over the world, it wanted to make you touchable?"

"It has its priorities," said West flatly. "Who was the SCP that 035 was using? Dolores? What happened to her?"

"SCP-132-ARC," said Usher. "An empath who was brought in around fifteen years ago. I didn't even know sapients could get an ARC designation. I suppose we learned all we could from it. It's recontained and recovering."

Victoria frowned. "035 said it had met her before. Why aren't we already thralls to god-king 035?"

"132-ARC's cell is shielded with 148 to keep it from getting overwhelmed by the rest of humanity," Usher explained. "If 035 went down to visit it at some point, they would be cut off from everyone but each other. No overpowered 035."

"So the SRA destabilised 035, but the effects that 035 caused remained - 049 remained restored, at least, and -" Victoria rubbed at her lips where she'd tasted Amica's corrosive, but someone had cleaned it away while she was unconscious. "I don't feel any damage from 035's fluid. But 035 reverted back to its 035-2 body rather than remaining in its 2264-3 form -" Victoria started.

Usher laughed. "If it could be explained logically, it wouldn't be an anomaly, it'd just be science. We don't know why yet. I have a lot of questions for 035 once it's calmed down."

"And before you ask, I don't know how the object works, I was only told that they'd figured it out because 049 was affected," said Combs. "We don't get to know everything."

One other piece was missing. "What happened to Ardente? 2264-1-a?"

"Its host body was ripped apart," said Usher. "The mask was still intact. It's been boxed up for now."

Having the information she wanted, Usher left. Victoria took a breath and levelled her gaze at Combs. "Colin. Thank you. For everything these past two months. You didn't have to let me keep 035 and 049 close. You didn't have to be as gentle to them as you were. You didn't have to try so hard to get them restored by the Foundation's methods."

"You and 049 are my subjects and therefore in my care. I decide how to treat you," said Combs. "035 was just part of the deal. Fortunately Usher decided that 035 was better off with you."

"I owe you so much and it kills me that I have no way to repay your kindness."

"If you owe me two months, then I want two months with no trouble from you," said Combs seriously. "No breaching. No taking advantage of breaches. Stay put and stay safe. And answer this: What were you doing in the hallway?"

"A pair of Insurgents dragged us out," said Victoria.

"Security footage shows you killing both Insurgents, then going deeper into the chaos. If you were alone, I would think you were just trying to help our people and the other SCPs. But you wouldn't put 049 and 035 at risk while they were transformed, not unless you thought there was a very good reason."

After all he'd done, he was owed the truth. "I was trying to reach SCP-2264-1-a's containment," Victoria admitted. "One of the 2264-3s contacted me weeks ago and said if I came to 2264-B, they would try to restore 035. Then I would be able to duplicate the process for 049. The 2264-3 instance said that 2264-1-a knew how to get there."

"I'm going to get more security measures put around 2264-1-a if it's able to escape containment, even if it hasn't got a host now," said Combs. "And you didn't tell me about this contact because you didn't trust the Foundation. You thought you would need to take up the offer so you kept the information to yourself."

"And I was correct." She looked away. "It was the last resort, however. I didn't want to risk returning to 2264-B if there was any other way, but the Foundation made it clear they weren't interested in helping. I would have given you more time, but the Insurgent attack seemed like the best opportunity to breach."

Combs pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. I'm going to report this to Usher and she can ask the questions since it's 2264-related. You're released from medical. The guard will take you to your containment so you can pack your overnight bag, then they'll take you down to 049's containment."

Victoria felt her heart leap and she struggled for words. Combs smiled faintly. "You both need it. You get an extra day so you have time to fill him in on what happened, if he doesn't remember, or to find out his thoughts on the transformation if he does. I've told the higher-ups it's a reward for helping recontain 035 so they permitted it."

"Thank you."

"Thank me by staying contained."

Chapter Text

The Doctor had a haggard look to him when Victoria was delivered to his cell. He advanced on her with fevered eyes and long strides that would have terrified anyone who saw threat and not worry. Victoria didn't have time to do anything but drop her bag and reach out to him before he was upon her. When he bent down, Victoria put her arms around his neck, but then he straightened up, one arm under her thighs, the other holding her head to cradle her cheek to his mask. "Dr Combs explained some things to me," he rasped. "He said you had been hurt, and that he would permit you to come to me after he was certain you sustained no serious harm -"

He'd probably been frantic and pacing the whole time. How long had she been out? She nuzzled against his mask. "Shh. Shh, dear Doctor. My dear Doctor. I'm here. I'm okay. Take me to bed and hold me."

The Doctor set Victoria gently on his cot, and paused to take off her shoes. He started to reach for his doctor's bag to retrieve the privacy curtains but Victoria tugged on his robe. "I don't care. Just hold me."

He didn't argue, just as eager to be in her arms. He tucked her head under his beak and tangled his long arms and legs around her. Once secured, the Doctor let out a long sigh, and Victoria felt his body relax.

His fingers toyed with her hair. "What happened, my heart?"

"Can you wait for an explanation?" Victoria asked. "I need this for a little while. I need to accept that this is real."

"D'accord. Shall I sing to you?"

"Please, Doctor."

The familiar raspy tenor filled her ears and lulled her heart. The Doctor rubbed gentle circles on her back and neck as he sang. Victoria's hands didn't know what to do, she just flexed her fingers against his hide, needing contact. Not sexual, not yet, not after two months of looking after his toddler-self. It would be a while before she could think of him sexually again. Now she just wanted to hold him, to remember the feel of his lanky body, wiry muscles, and long limbs, of being surrounded by him.

After a while, Victoria finally calmed enough to speak. "What do you remember?"

"Little is clear to me," the Doctor admitted. "You were there, and Dr Combs, and our friend. Our friend did not seem odd to me. The rest of you were big and strange. Everything was so big and bright and strange. I did not remember who you were or our relationship, but I knew you would keep me safe. And you did." He paused. "There were a lot of snacks."

Victoria laughed against his collar. "Of course you remember the food. Combs and Usher spoiled you."

She briefly filled him in on the previous two months. The Doctor snuggled her closer. "My dear. You went through so much for us. You could have given up."

"Never," Victoria promised. "Even if I could have accepted the change, I couldn't leave you like that. You've already lost enough memories - to lose all of them was too unfair."

"As it was unfair to you to be cast as caretaker to your own spouses, even if you insisted." His beak ruffled her hair. "I am sorry we caused you so much trouble."

"You were slightly less trouble than usual. The Foundation is going to be so upset that it can't distract you with muffins anymore," said Victoria. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder-cape nervously. "Was I an okay caretaker?"

The Doctor hummed softly. "I recall contentment. You always look after me very well. I wish I could remember details. I do not have any memories of my first childhood, it might have been nice to better recall my second."

"Most people don't have much in the way of memories from when they were that young," said Victoria. "My brother was born when I was three and I don't remember it. You'd think that was a pretty big deal."

"Yes, but for you that was forty years ago. For me it has been only hours. I should remember," said the Doctor.

"The anomalous object messed with your memories to make you think you were a child. I'm not surprised that the reverse process messed with you again." She breathed him in, that leather-and-chemical smell that she used to find unpleasant. "My Doctor. My husband. I missed you. I missed this."

"Shh. I am here now. I will not willingly leave you. I will look after you. It is safe to rest."

He sang again. Victoria eventually fell asleep, safe and wrapped up in the Doctor.

Victoria was in the dream-void again, but was immediately reassured when she looked down and found herself wearing black silk pyjamas. She sighed. "Amica."

A deep voice in the dark: "Mm, I think that name belongs to my transformed self. I will be friend and consort again."

"I missed you, friend."

"You're late, love," 035 whispered behind her, slipping its arms around her waist. Only two arms - it was in its humanoid form, wearing similar pyjamas. "But I suppose I'll forgive you after what you've been through. And that researcher of yours seems to know it, too. I know you're with our Doctor."

"It would only be better if you were there," said Victoria.

It held her for a few moments, humming quietly and swaying a bit, not a dance so much as just enjoying the feel of her in its arms. All it seemed to want was closeness, either because it knew that was all Victoria was up for, or because it didn't want anything more. It was hard to know - 035's libido was as chaotic as its moods.

The porcelain nose nudged her ear. "Not that chaotic, love. When you're not in the mood, I can't get in the mood. I want emotion first and foremost, mia cara."

Then 035 flopped dramatically back on a fainting couch that wasn't there a moment ago, pulling Victoria with it. It sprawled out, drawing her back against its chest and wrapped its arms around her. "Ugh, they've got me in solitary again until they figure out what happened with me and Dolores so they can prevent it from happening again. At least I can visit you in dreams. And keep Odious out of them," it finished grimly. "I can't believe you would willingly return to Alagadda after what happened, and on Odious' invitation."

"It was the only chance I had left to restore you and the Doctor."

It rubbed its cheek against her hair. "My Victoria. You need us that badly."

"I do," Victoria admitted. "Sometimes I hate how much I need you. My life was tolerable until you and the Doctor showed me that it could be good."

"We only give you what you deserve," murmured 035. "And with our give-and-take, after these last months I am deep in your debt."

"How much do you remember?" asked Victoria.

035 chuckled. "My memory is perfect - well, apparently unless it's being suppressed by a surprisingly powerful magical transformation. All the snacks and cuddles and playtime." Its chuckle turned wicked. "And now I have a better handle on dear Myrna's mind. She'd been so careful to stay out of my range, until I was just too cute to stay away from."

"She was kind to you."

"Only because she thought I was harmless." It nuzzled her hair and its voice dropped to a purr: "I remember that you told me you would always love me."

"I was -" I was reassuring a child. But she wasn't, not entirely. She was telling Amica that she wasn't going to abandon it just because she found the situation difficult, but she was also telling 035 that she would love it, regardless of form, regardless of their changed relationship. "I do love you."

035 hummed quietly, pleased. Victoria moved to lie on her stomach, arms folded on 035's chest, and looked down into the comedic mask. "You had never been a child. Now you're the only Alagaddan who has ever been a child," said Victoria. "What was it like?"

"It was very strange," said 035, aspect flickering to tragic, tone serious. "I knew that I was the Black Lord, but I didn't know what that meant. I was a special, important little princess and I liked the colour black. I had a vague idea of who my King was, and the other lords and the Ambassador, but not much more than 'King good, Ambassador bad.' I vaguely knew that the Doctor was my friend. I didn't remember you. I suppose I hadn't known you long enough."

It drummed its fingers on Victoria's back. "Everything seemed new. I don't know if it was because my memories were suppressed, or if I had the mind of a child. Maybe my memories had to be suppressed so I could think like a child. But even when I was first created and everything really was new to me, it didn't feel the same way."

"Who is Dolores?" asked Victoria.

"I don't know," said 035 slowly. "I met her during a breach. I took a walk in an area I was unfamiliar with, found an elevator, and went down. When I try to think of her, all I think is 'she was sad and boring.' Like someone messed with my memories so I wouldn't wonder about her and go back. And I wasn't in her memories at all. But if the Foundation could change my memories like that so I would stay away from her, why haven't they done more to me?"

"Maybe Dolores did it. You said she was powerful."

"No. She's receive-only."

"Maybe you did it."

035 made a pensive sound. "I have no reason to. Why would I give up so much power?"

"You might have erased the reason as well, if it was important enough to forget her."

"Then I did a sloppy job of it, since now I'm all curious again," 035 complained.

"You could have taken over the world," said Victoria. She shifted her weight to one arm so she could reach up and stroke 035's hair. "I can't say I want you to, but you could have taken us from the Site, torn down the Veil, and then made it so I can touch you."

"I suppose I'm impulsive. Maybe I argued too well to save the Earth from Alagadda that on some level I permitted it to be saved from myself," 035 mused. "Well. I'm not the end, I'm the beginning of the end, and perhaps it isn't time for the final act."

"Maybe you're just not cut out for godhood."

035's aspect returned to comedy. "Nonsense. I proved my godliness by making you fuckable. Any Greek god would have done the same."

"Ugh, you are not sexy to me right now," Victoria complained. "You were a goddamn baby shoving muffins in your face for two months. That's going to take some time to get over."

035 laughed. "I don't understand you - I'm me again, aren't I? - but I suppose there's nothing to be done for it." It turned its head suddenly, looking out into the void, but its expression remained smiling. "Oh, we have company," it said, lifting a hand. "Welcome, dear Doctor."

The Doctor appeared, hands behind his back. "With all the strangeness that happened I found myself unable to rest, even with Victoria beside me, so I used a sleeping potion."

The fainting couch retained its general shape but now had more width. 035 patted the empty space. The Doctor settled in beside it, then 035 rolled towards it, causing Victoria to fall into the space between them. Long arms reached over her, embracing each other with her pressed between, long legs draped over hers. Warm leather on one side, cool silk-clad chitin on the other. 035 nuzzled her ear. "You asked me to take you home," it murmured. "Here we are."