This is my second fanfiction for Reanimator and my second upload. Again, I hope you enjoy it. It's slash, to some degree; we were reading Macbeth in English and I'd bought the play a few months before, and a line that had always stuck was the witches' little 'Thrice to thine and thrice to mine' bit. And I was writing several Reanimator fanfictions and I got the idea. It's kind of random, a bit more abstract, but I hope you enjoy it. It leaves a lot open to interpretation, so I'm going to leave it as an 'In-progress' for that reason, I might add more at a later date. I intend to upload more soon, but seeing as I'd just uploaded a romantic one, I thought a more true-to-Reanimator fic was in order. This is the result of my madness. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: Writing is mine, of course. Characters belong to H.P. Lovecraft, Stuart Gordon, Brian Yuzna, Jeffrey Combs, Bruce Abbott, &c.


Reanimator:

Thrice to Thine, Thrice to Mine

(Thrice Again to Make Up Nine)

There were nine hypodermic needles, filled up with the glowing, yellow reagent. All were lain out on the table, displayed with a sharp colour and scientific precision that was harsh to aesthetically and mentally gage. All were identical to one another to within an inch of their lives; and not just theirs, but the lives they would give.

Herbert West had planned this meticulously; not a single factor had been overlooked, not a single variable dismissed as redundant. In this work - their work - nothing was redundant. Not he, or his calculations; not Dan, and the steady laborious hand he had been graced with, more so in these past weeks of their mesmerising but secret collaboration. This would be their largest, most dangerous—and potentially, most rewarding—experiment to date. Herbert West checked his watch; not a second too late nor one too early. Six and twenty with one four had elapsed since his last routine perusal of the placid clockface. They began.

The nine corpses reposed on their metal beds, their heads propped up slightly to make access easier; each needle had been placed parallel to such heads and were ready and poised for use. Herbert and Dan assumed their positions and set about working, without missing a beat. No time could be lost, and no time could be gained. Everything must be perfect.

Herbert took up a needle; Dan mirrored his agile motions and Herbert injected his first set into the corpse. They paused for a certain amount of seconds and Dan mirrored him.

Pause. Silence. A brief, wicked smile. Move along.

And they did move along, rapidly but with expert stealth and accuracy, repeating this process over and over again. Herbert would inject the serum, and wait. Dan would, seconds later, draw up the needle and inject the potion carefully, whilst Herbert reached his second subject. And this pattern continued, until there was but one maliciously grinning needle remaining. The seconds and concentrations had been monitored scrupulously; the undead would be reborn at the same time, if they were correct. They had to be.

They both injected the last hypodermic solution, Dan tilting the head and Herbert exerting little weight to shift the ominous, luminous reagent. The yellow substance disappeared, and the room was darker for it. They stood back, waiting, the timers and various machines around them beeping silently. Herbert counted down from ten…nine…

A groan. Panic. Several more groans. Two sighs, and two hands lacing their fingers together in the darkness. Shuffling. The bodies arose.

Dan gasped, mesmerised. Herbert smiled evilly, watching the creations that moved beyond his glasses.

"Amazing," Dan murmured, grasping Herbert's left hand tighter. Herbert nodded, squeezing Dan's hand gently, preoccupied. It was a pity the specimens couldn't be tested on in their lively reanimated state. Herbert slipped from Dan's hold and took another nine needles full of a weak solution of etorphine from a separate case, its metallic edges glinting dangerously in the harsh lights around the corners of the room. Herbert gave Dan eight and kept eight for himself, placing the last at the head of the central reanimate, each collection of rotten parts trying to break free from their inhibitions.

They began again, three to Herbert, three to Dan, working in the perfectest harmony. Herbert laughed, thinking of another grisly tale less than their own for its lack of stance in the real realm they all occupied; he, Dan, these creatures at his mercy.

"Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine," he quoth, relishing the theatrics, "and thrice again…"

He injected the last amount of tranquiliser. Dan let the subdued head rest, a final groan emitted from the mouth of the infernal mass. Herbert sighed, nodding. It was copasetic work.

"To make up nine," Dan finished. Herbert smiled at him, his needs satiated for the time being and their work completely executed. They would have to wait several hours before they could proceed, so they locked the door of the basement behind them and entered the sitting room. Dan calmly sat down on the couch, resting his arm on the sofa's; Herbert's head fell into his lap and he stared up at the ceiling, smiling, Dan's hand brushing his hair. Herbert sighed.

"...and thrice again, to make up nine," he echoed, smiling.