He never liked his sewing. He could do a myriad of things , but his sewing skills weren't what he'd consider competent. He was often encouraged to try, even showered with praises whenever there was a little improvement. But slightly above average doesn't cut it for a professional job. The scattered project before him only solidified his feelings of inadequacy. Still , he had a job to do and little time to finish. He reassured himself that he would fix anything wrong afterwards.

Steely mechanical hands set to work, the body parts arranged like a grotesque jigsaw puzzle. With a curved needle and cold focus, he unwound the suture thread and sew into the flesh. He started with the right foot, connecting it back to the middle of the shin. Then the left mid though being connected to the rest of the leg. Nerves sutured , joints threaded, little by little the parts formed into what used to be a person. His person. The skin color was of a umber brown, cooled by death. The palms and underfoot were of a far paler tone. Finally the head, coated in woolen, back length hair. If there was one part he wished to fix immediately, it would be the large gaping wound on the left side of her face, exposing her teeth and gums. Her head was held tenderly in his hands as he pressed his metallic head to her forehead in reverence .
He placed the head carefully on the slender shoulders, making the body whole one more. It resembled a young woman between her mid to late twenties, large lips,slightly wide nose, rounded face, and a large scar running from her hairline to her forehead on the left side. he stepped back, cursing himself over the stitch work. There she laid on the cold metal slab, resembling a sleeping torture victim. But he had done it, and he hoped he'd never have to do it again. He briefly prayed to whatever deity and daemon would listen that this would work. 

It had to. 

The body was perfectly preserved, no doubt in part to his own attention to detail but partially by the genius that was his late partner. Well, partner, provided he did everything right. She has somehow made a nontoxic fluid that perfectly preserved whatever was placed in it. She had gotten the idea from how ancient honey kept is quality if stored right. How could she have known she'd be one of the earlier test subjects for such a substance? He sighed wearily from the thought. He tucked the suture thread and needle away, it would hopefully be a while before he'd need it again. He then walked briskly over to the left of the table , pulled two large lag screws out. He returned swiftly to the body, inserting one lag screw to either side of the lower neck of the body. Only flesh deep, barely touching the spine. They would serve as a connection point and could be easily removed later. 

He moved with precision, securing the body with heavy leather straps. He then checked the gauges, arranged the wiring, then his notes: once , twice , then three times. he refused to make the same mistake ever again. He opened the shutters to find a cloudy night sky and a lonely forest being pelted with heavy rain. A flash of lighting set the lab aglow, followed by a heart stopping roar through the clouds. The thunderstorm was here. 

Good. 

He hurried over to the lift, hand on the lever , ready and waiting. If he could sweat he'd be soaked in it, ruining his stark white lab coat. But all he could do was wait and worry. So he that he did between the periodic flashes for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a stray bolt hit the rod atop his tower- illuminating the coils and bulbs of his lab into a brilliant blue-white. In that instant he pulled the lever. Sparks flew as electricity danced between the tesla coils and circuitry and raced through the corpse. The sight was horrifying , like watching a live execution. The body twitched and jolted as it painfully convulsed against the leather straps of the table. 

The operator briefly wondered if he was doing the right thing. Was it right to put a loved one through such pain? To desecrate their body in such a way? Would they even be themselves after this? Would he be hated for this? Will this even work?

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. What's done is done and he will deal with the consequences as they come. He checked the gauge to his left, noticed the limit had been reached, the swiftly flipped the switch back off. The body's convulsions stopping shortly after. Tentative hands reached into the pockets of their lab coat, pulling out a pair of gloves reaching to the upper arm. After all, one does not want to risk electrocution nor contamination of neither subject nor scientist. Once on the left side of the table, it was turned forward, forcing the body to an almost standing position. 

The body lay motionless, slouched to the right. A few occasional twitches here and there. Several moments pass by, but still nothing. If the mechanical being had a human heart, it would have sank by now. There was a slight stutter to his fluid pump so he surmised that it was close enough. 

He already disturbed her body, its only fair he'd put her back to rest. With a heavy sign, he went to unstrap her. He paused a moment, sensing air flow. he took a leather gloved hand and, hand outstretched , placed it under her nose. sure enough it fogged up. 

Air flow meant breath, and breath meant life. 

She was alive!

He'd done it!

He patted her shoulder tentatively, as if waking a child from a bad dream. "Come on. Open your eyes, love. I need you moving! I need you up! You can sleep later."

The corpse shook her head and mumbled incoherently. He patted her once more. She reluctantly sat up,as if rousing from sleep. Large , moss green eyes fluttered open, meeting red lit ones. Save fir the gradually more labored breathing, there was a solid minute off silence between the two.

Then she screamed. More incoherent babble as she struggled against her bindings. The metallic man in the lab coat lifted his hands to calm her. "Darling, just-just remain calm. I'll let you down-"

She seized, still hyperventilating as she stared at him. Her faced scrunched up as if in severe discomfort. His vascular pump felt like it was going to stop. Was she angry to be back? Did she hate him now? Was she cursing her gods for her forced return in such a crudely stitched form? Her lips opened she he braced himself. 

Then she vomited. 

Another lab coat to be burned later. It was to be expected, really. Her digestive system had just started working gain. And last he checked , her stomach contents were never emptied. Not to mention the fluid she was floating in just before. But damn the lab coat! None of that mattered. She was alive.

He undid her bindings, then offered his hand as support. With an unsteady hand, she reached for the offered hand. Missed. Reach once more, missed again. He pressed his warm gloved hand into her palm for guidance after the third try. Knees buckled as she tried to stand, accidentally pulling them both to kneel on the ground. They sat there in silence, only broken by her deep breathing and his occasional silence. 

"Hrr- Urp!" She gargled. She took a few breaths. "Hrr, hur, h-h…"

"Take your time." He cooed, rubbing her back. 

"Ho…H-how long, Mata?" she asked finally. her voice raspy after screaming. 

"Hmm?"

"How long was I gone?" she asked, weariness heavy on her breath. "What happened to me…after?"

'So she does remember', he noted. He met her gaze, her moss green eyes filled to the brim with worry and the threat of tears at the corners. His mind raced, recalling the awful event it exact detail. Like every night since it happened. How could he tell her? How detailed should he be? He calculated every scenario of what could happen if he did or didn't tell her and how specific he should be. She sat patiently, even if her fried nerves had her on edge with every agonizing second she'd wait. 

Finally he adjusted himself. Mata sat on his hunches, hands on his lap. His features softened but otherwise unreadable.

"First, tell me what you recall. Your name, your profession, and your last memory."

The revive corpse was taken somewhat aback. Like he was speaking in riddles. Did he not know who she was? Did she still remember? Surely she didn't look that different after whatever happened? She tilted her head and squinted both eyes at the roof, in genuine thought. 

"I am… Andromache Mosembe . You usually call me 'Mache'. I am a mechanic? No- an engineer. I helped build this lab." She said slowly, gathering her thoughts. 

"Yes. Go on." Mata said, urging her to continue. 

"Uh, um, we were in here when you wanted to mess with this new element we found under your ship. We were- Oh we were being stupid." She lamented. Mata shook his head.

"No. I was. You asked me to double check the calculations and the container. I checked your math but I neglected to notice the crack in the glass and well-"

"The machine exploded and the shrapnel eviscerated me." she finished solemnly. "It hurt so much. I can't remember anything after that.

"Yes."

She brushed her woolen hair back before finally looking at her scarred hand. "Which was why I am a literal patch work project right now." She continued, starring at the seams on her arms and legs. She felt her forehead for the large scar and winced.

"I…Yes." He felt the joints in his faceplate tighten. "It was my fault. I got careless and it cost you. I thought I checked everything but-"

"No, no. Stop. I don't blame you. Accidents happen. Many scientific discoveries were found through accidents and miscalculations. I just never thought I'd be an experiment."

"I disagree. You're not an experiment, Mache. My mistake cost us both."

She was to protest but caught the melancholy in his humanoid optics. "Oh Mata." She said, voice heavy. "It haunted you."

He nodded but remained silent. She looked to the calming storm outside." I'm impressed you brought me back. surprised even."

"I wanted to at least try bringing you back. I knew I'd have to let you go one day. But not like that. Not so soon." His humanoid face contorted into a grimace. "Mache, you were in pieces."

"I know. I know. It's …" She rubbed her forehead, a grimace heavy on her face. "It's all so much. Too much." 

"It is. Right now you are overstimulated. You just came back, after all. Take all the time you need to adjust. Rest. Stabilize. We'll continue this conversation later." Up he stood, shedding off his soiled lab coat to a navy blue turtleneck sweater and black pants. Lab coat tossed to the side, he offered a hand to his companion. 

"If I may?" he asked, gingerly. Mache nods, eyes softened and watery. But she was calm, and she relaxed when Mata knelt down to lift her in his arms. She let herself go limp in his arms as he cradled her out of the lab.