Porter-Bailey

Chapter Twelve: Photographs & Memories (CW: Mention of completed suicide and self-harm.) Later that same night, Nicole and Joey sat on the roof of their apartment building in a pair of lawn chairs, watching the sunset and pigging out on a massive meat lover's pizza. Michael wouldn’t be home for a bit longer, having to stay late to make up for that morning’s appointment. As Joey had offered, he planned to talk to Nicole about her recent moodiness. Not that he was exactly sure how to broach the topic. “We have an agreement, right? No telling Michael I didn’t make you eat greens. Just ‘cause I didn’t feel like cooking any.” “Hey, I’m not complaining. I do think he’ll see the giant pizza box on the kitchen counter, however.” “As weird as his cravings are lately, I don’t think he’ll care. It’s food he didn’t have to make himself.” Appreciating the view, Joey commented, “That there is something you can only get in New York.” Nicole rolled her eyes, “Y’know, the sun sets in Florida too

Chapter Five: Double Vision “You’re a twin?” Dr. Abel raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a weird thing to forget, I know!” Michael was bent over, his head between his knees. He wondered if he was going to pass out. That would be a mercy. Dr. Abel patiently passed him a sick bag, which Michael heaved into. When nothing came up, he took to breathing into it, trying to avoid a complete panic attack. “My mother was a twin, and I’m pretty sure her mother was a twin. And finally, there’s me and my sister, the only opposite-sex twins born in the Taylor family. This really does not bode well for me!” Dr. Abel sat nearby on a rolling stool, waiting for Michael to collect himself. “Mr. Taylor, I completely understand where your anxieties are coming from, but if I might try to assure you, monozygotic or even dizygotic embryos, even when they seem to run in the genes, are somewhat unlikely. It’s even rarer, in a XY gestation, that they’d be considered viable.” “In layman's terms?” Michael

They were both absolutely shitfaced. Following a hard day at the hospital, during which he’d lost a terminal patient, Doctor Daniel Cain wanted nothing more than several stiff drinks. But he hadn’t expected Herbert to join him. Dan didn’t think he’d ever seen Herbert West drink so heavily, if he drank at all. His normally sallow face was bright red. But aside from the slurred language and clumsy mannerisms, he somehow maintained that emotionally restricted air of his. They’d been discussing potential next phases of experimenting with the reagent. Cain had mostly been letting West ramble, enjoying the numbing distraction the conversation and alcohol created. “Daniel,” Herbert said after another sip of bourbon. “Yeah?” “Have you ever thought about,” he paused, furrowing his brow. “Thought about…damn. It’s gone.” Dan snorted, sipping his drink. “Ah yes. Have you ever thought about us having a child?” Were Daniel not so drunk, he likely would have choked on his booze. He considered this