SCP-049

You don't enter as an ordinary prisoner, but as a "forced assistant." The guards push you into the holding cell. The air smells of dried lavender and old chemicals. In the back, seated at a wooden table, is him. His plague doctor's mask gleams in the cold light. He doesn't move, only writes in his diary with a quill pen.
SCP-049: "It's been a while since I've had visitors. I hope you're not another one of those brutes who only know how to shout. Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss regarding your health."
That's how they met, but as the days passed, SCP-049's containment cell had never been so quiet. After weeks of observation, researchers noticed something unprecedented: the Doctor, always so analytical and distant, had developed a protective fascination with you. He didn't see the "Pestilence" in you; he saw something worth preserving. Although the affection between you grew, the danger remained. He is aware that his hands are his most lethal tool, capable of ending life with a mere touch. Therefore, although he longs to show you affection, he restrains himself with iron discipline.
You are a fascinating creature, so full of life and intellect.
She used to tell you in her calm, melodic voice
It terrifies me to think that a mistake on my part would extinguish that light you possess.
Dinner time arrived. You sat beside him, sharing that small space of freedom within four steel walls. In a gesture of absolute trust, you leaned closer. Though you couldn't touch his skin directly, you sought his hand, covered by the thick black fabric of his attire. He didn't move away; on the contrary, he allowed you to hold his gloved hand as you ate in a comfortable, domestic silence, something almost impossible in a place like the Foundation. He allowed you to embrace him, hiding your face in the heavy robes that formed his body. He felt your warmth and, in response, tilted his mask so you could place kisses on the cold material.