#dissec

They drew the final dotted line up the boy’s stomach, slow and unhurried, smiling at the slight tremble in Daniel’s abdominal muscles with each consecutive mark. They used just enough pressure to press the ink onto skin while also consciously brushing their fingers against their canvas. Once they reached the bottom of the breastbone, they shifted the marker in their hand to leave their index finger free and reached up to poke the tip of a slightly tan nose set above quivering lips.

A giggle escaped the boy, but he quickly pursed his lips. Little irregular breaths huffed out of his nose as he tried to compose himself.

Clockwork smiled. They’d only told Daniel to stay still during the procedure, but it seemed the boy was determined to stay quiet as well. They thought it endearing how he attempted to hold in his laughter, despite Clockwork’s best efforts.

They capped their marker and set it aside. “Comfortable?” they asked. The boy responded with an affirmative hum. Clockwork fluffed his pillow and adjusted the blanket at his waist anyway.

His trembling subsided, so when Daniel spoke it was with a clear, stable voice. “So, what’s this for anyway? A fitting?”

“In a sense,” they said. “Just a little something to take your hurts away.”

“My hurts?”

“Yes.” Those pesky hurts that had always ailed him. Clockwork would take them all away, leave his body better, more durable. Not for the first time, they asked, “Daniel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you trust me?”

And Daniel, he smiled. “Of course I do.”

That last confirmation was all they needed.

Clockwork put a hand over the boy’s eyes. “It’s time for a rest, don’t you think?” They could feel the boy ready to protest—out of a feigned desire not to seem rude, out of a real desire to avoid his nightmares catching up with him—but Clockwork was patient. 

They waited until the boy’s excuses ran dry—until the comforting smells of watch oil and metal shavings, and the faint ticking drifting out through their chest started to slow his beating heart. Waited until finally, the boy’s eyes stayed closed.

They pulled their hand away from his eyes, dragging it up to comb through his white hair. One moment longer, to indulge themself on the imperfections littered throughout the precious child laid before them. 

They smiled fondly. Each one would be missed, but in the end, Daniel’s quality of existence was more important. They could always revisit this moment—or any of the previous ones—later, after they’d completed their work.

Clockwork pulled the edges of their cloak aside and opened the door in their chest. The brass pendulum swung soundlessly a moment before folding up to the top of the case with a soft click. They reached a hand inside, pulling out a bundle of tools. Brand new and set aside just for Daniel.

They closed the glass door, careful to lock it slowly so as not to wake their charge, and readjusted their cloak. They set a hand on Daniel’s cheek, gently rubbing their thumb in circles across his soft, vulnerable skin. “Thank you,” they murmured.

---

When Daniel appeared in their lair last night, quiet, curled in on himself, and partially transparent, Clockwork did as they always did.

They led the boy to the kitchen, set him down at the table and turned on the stove. Set down a pot. Put in just enough oil. Pulled some chicken thighs from the pantry. Patiently waited for the boy to speak. 

“Cutlet?” he murmured, voice hoarse and muffled from where his head laid in his arms.

“Soup.” Because the boy would awaken in his other home a few nights later, with a stubborn cough and a stuffed nose. And because he loved bowtie pasta. 

Silence returned as Clockwork seasoned the meat and set it down in the pot. The sound of sizzling oil and the smell of cooking chicken filled the air.

“Does it ever get easier? Being—” The sudden silence made Clockwork look back. Daniel shuddered. “Being—” His breath hitched. 

Clockwork moved to set a hand between the boy’s shoulders, rubbing at his back through his thick sweater. They mulled over words that told the truth and words that didn’t hurt. “It is… a unique experience,” they settled on.

“What if I don’t—” Daniel lifted his head, just high enough for his eyes to rise above his arm, a wet sheen across the delicate surfaces. “What if I don’t want to experience it?”

And Clockwork, for all that they’d planned and pondered and predicted, had hardly entertained the thought that Daniel might get rid of his hurts himself, at the expense of his existence.

It was an oversight, one that may have cost them their grandson had he not spoken until now.

Or maybe it was solely their selfishness, for avoiding using their powers so thoroughly. Wanting to cherish each moment they spent with the boy.

They must’ve waited too long to answer, Daniel had sat up higher in his chair, put on a facsimile of a smile, and waved a hand. His shoulders tensed as he became a bit more opaque. “Sorry to get all emo on you. I’m fine, just… tired trying to adjust to some new changes at home.” 

It stung a bit, the choice of words, but nonetheless they said, “Of course. It’s no trouble.” Wishing for all the Realms that they could make sure he never returned to that place.

They returned to the stove, pulling the chicken from the pot with a pair of tongs and filling it with chopped onions and garlic. 

“So, were there any new games at the arcade?”

There were, of course they knew there were, but Daniel humoured them anyway, talking about swift blue hedgehogs with two-tailed yellow foxes and a gluttonous being seeking pellets and avoiding ghosts at all costs.

Throughout the evening, Daniel struggled to stay opaque, always a little transparent no matter how much he tensed.

The warm meal in his belly had clearly helped, but by the time Clockwork had laid him down into bed, they could still see the palm of their glove through his chest.

---

Clockwork took to their project with absolute precision. They carefully peeled away the flimsy canvas, gently pinning down the edges and simply stared, in awe of all the unfamiliar pieces native to the human body.

They cracked open the delicate green-white shell and watched the strange balls of… flesh? Yes, flesh. They watched as each little inefficient process was carried out, paying no mind to the red-green liquid trickling down the pale skin. They would need to clean the workshop when they were done anyway.

They shifted aside a sac of air, one that inflated and deflated in an even rhythm with an identical sac nestled against the left side of the shell. They used their thumb to pull it away from a smaller sac, this one in a much less symmetrical shape and directly opposite the boy’s frigid ice core. Curiously, however, the small sac was warm. 

They hovered their other hand over the open bundle of tools placed on a side table. They hummed to themself as they dragged their hand back and forth. Daniel’s wires were different from their own, and much more different than anything they’d worked on before. They rubbed a rather large wire, feeling that same red-green liquid from earlier warm them up through the material of their glove. They felt how easily it gave to pressure, squishing it slightly between two digits. 

Perhaps, a case knife? A medium-duty seemed a bit much for a soft, hollow wire. Yes, that should work then. That should work nicely.

It was a simple matter of slicing through the casing, though the abundance of red-green liquid spilling out was quite bothersome. It just kept pouring and pouring, obscuring Clockwork’s vision of the other wires. They huffed, amused. Where did Daniel manage to keep it all?

They grabbed a small cloth, patting around the area. The liquid welled up again and they sighed. They may need to speed this up if the boy kept deciding to unconsciously tease them like this.

Clockwork smoothly cut through the smaller wires connecting the sac to the other balls of flesh, feeling the squishy, wet thing in their hand pulse and pulse and pulse as they held it down to keep from shifting too much. 

Once the last wire was cut, there was a faint exhale from Daniel’s lips, but when they looked up his face was still set in peaceful sleep. Daniel’s face was a bit paler than before and the identical air sacs were moving at a slower tempo. 

Clockwork peeled off a glove and set the back of their hand on his head. He didn’t feel any warmer and they had seen Daniel become ill during the following night—and how strange that discovery had been, that his hurts were sometimes inflicted by his own body in some misguided form of protection; that his very core, his core made of and with the power over ice would allow his body to reach such high temperatures. It was as amusing as it was baffling. 

Had his illness come early? Maybe it was the dry scent of metal filling the workshop? Or perhaps the tang of copper that had found its way under their tongue—the one Clockwork forgot to put away after dinner—was significantly affecting the boy. As he was now, Daniel might be more susceptible to the taste and find it unpleasant.

Or, Clockwork thought, perhaps the boy was still battling his hurts even in his dreams. The thought brought a wave of sadness with it and, despite the risk of losing their place, Clockwork set a hand on each cheek, rubbing them softly. Some of the liquid staining their glove smudged against Daniel’s pale cheek. 

They’d hoped after his fairly uneventful day, the boy would be able to avoid nightmares tonight, but it seemed that wouldn’t be the case. A few more moments passed like that, Clockwork simultaneously wanting to give comfort and being enamoured with the flimsy membrane Daniel called skin.

They should continue. The longer they delay, the more Daniel would continue to endure his hurts.

So, with a final indulgence, Clockwork leaned down and pressed a kiss to Daniel’s forehead. 

---

One more day, they thought as they gave Daniel their goodbye in the morning. One more day before they could set him free.

There would be a few miscommunications in the day ahead. The heart in the boy’s chest would likely suffer more hurts, but, comparatively, it would be an easy day. Nothing worthy of worrying thoughts plaguing his mind, hopefully.

It was hard, letting the boy go after their decision. 

It was hard, but it was necessary.

Daniel would return, as he always did, and this time Clockwork would be prepared to see things through.

They left their lair, dawning a human disguise and entering the Living Realm to search high and low for the perfect tools. They went to as many stores and tradeshows as they needed—time was no object, after all—choosing tools of the finest quality for this realm. Choosing tools only from this realm, the realm of Daniel’s birth, to give significance to Clockwork and a, hopefully, instinctual comfort to their grandson.

When they returned, they wiped down their worktable, set out a clean white blanket and one of the spare pillows from Daniel’s room, and sat themselves down with some tea, awaiting the young call of their name from the entrance.

---

Clockwork pulled the small sac of flesh from the boy’s chest, the piece absolutely covered in that warm liquid and still spilling more. With great care, they set it aside on a clean towel next to a set of tall glass jars. They would keep each of Daniel’s pieces as intact as they could, just in case the boy wanted to keep them as a memento. And if not, well, there was always room in the workshop and they wouldn’t mind a reminder of Daniel’s little oddities.

Daniel made a small sound in the back of his throat, his brows furrowing slightly and his core starting to ice over the nearby flesh sacs. Clockwork frowned, sympathetic to the boy’s suffering. They needed a quicker way of going about this.

Clockwork moulded their shape, splitting the singular pair of hands down the middle into two, then four, then five. Additional fingers grew in mirror to the ones in their gloves, emerging from the palm side of each first knuckle.

Ectoplasmic skin pulled tightly to the false bone and short claws grew from each nail. Perfect for precision work and opening tiny containers.

Clockwork hummed. It wasn’t often they did this, since it wasn’t particularly comfortable, but the more helping parts, the better. 

The glass door in their chest swung open on its own, the pendulum pausing mid swing. Instead of folding up, it stretched out, creating new joints with each click until it was long enough to reach Daniel and their tools. The brass bob hollowed itself out until only the edges remained, then came apart to resemble pincers.

No, no. That was certainly not enough.

More pendulums, more hands, they needed more.

The new limbs formed out of their chest, for ease of movement, growing one at a time, with the hands growing bone then skin then claws at a rapid pace.

And, goodness, they needed better senses than just two eyes and ears. Slits in their face appeared—eye sockets—followed by newly grown eyeballs. Human ears were much more noticeably flawed, and though their comfort to Daniel was invaluable, Clockwork needed to hear everything. 

Thus, all along their arms up to the elbow as well as every free bit of their torso emerged single-jointed feathered wings, about the size of Daniel’s palm. Each barb and aftershaft more efficiently tuned to listen for any slight vibration in the air, any hint that Daniel’s sounds changed.

They could’ve added more, there was still much of their head they hadn’t used, but—

But they wanted to keep it as it was; Daniel worked hard on their braid and they adored the boy’s desire to take care of them and make them feel loved.

---

 “Your hair’s really nice, y’know?” Daniel had said earlier in the night.

“Of course, I grew it myself.” Daniel snickered, though Clockwork didn’t understand why.

“I mean, like, it looks really soft. Probably easy to comb through too.” Daniel hummed, pencil tapping on the kitchen table. “Maybe you could tie it up or something.”

They didn’t see much point to that, considering they could move it at will. Curiously though, they’d learned over time that Daniel’s was only affected by the gravity of whatever area he was in. “I’m not one for ribbons,” they settled on.

“It doesn’t have to be ribbons. You could just use a regular hair tie.” He shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling out something resembling a small black rubber band. “Here.”

They stared at the item. Wondered how they would be able to relinquish control solely to their hands to maneuver the white strands. It wasn’t something they were familiar with. “I don’t believe I could manage to do it myself.” They pressed on Daniel’s curled fingers, pushing his hand back towards him. 

“I could do it for you,” he said, a sparkle in his eye. “I’ve done it for Jazz tons of times!”

The boy looked confident, sure in his skill. And how could Clockwork say anything except, “I would love that. Thank you, Daniel.”

He smiled. “Okay, sit down in front of me, with your back between my legs.” Daniel adjusted his chair to face out from the table and Clockwork did as he instructed, curling their tail into a cushion underneath them. He set his hand atop their head. “Do you want me to braid it too? I’m really good at that.”

“I’ve never had my hair braided before,” they said. 

“It’ll look good, I promise.” The unwavering determination in his voice piqued their interest.

“Go ahead, then.”

They spent the next… however long it’d been, with Daniel running his fingers through their hair. Playing with it at first, they thought, but then splitting it into sections and doing something with them just out of their view. Every so often, Daniel’s fingers would brush through different spots on the sides of their head, grasping smaller strands and scratching slightly at their scalp. 

It was a new sensation for Clockwork, one they hadn’t been expecting to feel, yet wondering how they ever existed before experiencing these small pleasurable actions. Were it not for the restrictions on their powers, they would scour their future selves’ memories for any kind of repeat of this event. To say they ‘loved’ the feeling would be a large understatement.

“Oh,”—Daniel said, surprised—“you really like it that much, huh?”

Clockwork thought they’d hummed a question, but they couldn’t be sure.

Daniel giggled. “You’re purring.” Were they? Clockwork could hardly tell, but they could feel vibrations running through their body and a rumbling sound emanating from somewhere.

It didn’t take long after that for Daniel to finish, much to Clockwork’s dismay. “All done. I don’t have a mirror on me, but you have a bunch.” They conjured up a mirror in front of them.

Their eyes widened. Across their left shoulder sat a long white braid tied at the end with the little black band. It looked… good. 

“Thank you, Daniel.”

“Hey, no need for that. I did it ‘cause I love you and I wanted to show it.”

It was amusing really, that Daniel chose tonight of all nights to gift Clockwork this service. They anticipated returning the favour.

Daniel yawned. Perfect timing. 

Clockwork floated up, a smile on their face as they scooped up the boy in their arms. “Aww, Grampa, I’ve still got homework!”

“I’m not taking you to your room.” Yet.

Daniel stopped his squirming. “You’re not?”

“I’d like to do something for you, if that’s alright.”

Daniel tilted his head. “So then, where are we going?”

“My workshop.”

---

They pulled open a few of their drawers, using a spare limb to pull out gears and springs and watch hands painted a stark light blue. They’d nearly finished emptying Daniel’s torso, careful not to touch the young core, and occupied jars lined up along the shelves. 

It wouldn’t be long now. And were Daniel to ever ask what led them to act, they’d had plenty of time to think through words that didn’t hurt and words that told the truth.

---

At the crossroads between two doors, Clockwork paused. “Daniel?” The boy hummed, fighting off another yawn. “Do you trust me to have your best interests in mind?”

---

With a soft click, they closed Daniel’s new door. 

It was simple, really.

They came to a choice—one they’d made many times over. 

This time, however, Clockwork made a different choice.

---