Chapter Text
9437. 9437. Raiden took a long, low breath, repeating the intel to himself over and over to keep himself grounded as he skulked through the halls, double-checking every room number. He had the keycard, had the uniform, had all the information he needed; he just had to find the kid and get out of this hellhole. Whenever he passed too close to a door, he could hear sounds of human suffering, horrifically unique every time—drills boring through bone, children crying for their parents, the terrified muttering of those already driven mad—and it was entirely too much to bear. 9437. 9437. 9437.
Area 51, they'd called it. No aliens here but the freaks running the place.
After minutes that felt like an unbearable eternity, Raiden found the door he was looking for, and suppressed a shaky sigh of relief, swiping his keycard over the lock.
Instead of the hospital room-like living quarters he’d expected, he found himself standing in a tiny room, windowless and with a slot in the wall next to another door; his breathing hitched as his mind contemplated the implications of this, but he didn't allow himself to speculate—he couldn't bear to imagine any more torture, much less to a child as young as the one he was looking for. Raiden dusted himself off, attempting to make himself look as nonthreatening as possible, and opened the second door, quietly, carefully.
Amazingly, the child didn't cry immediately upon seeing him, despite looking incredibly startled. This room was more like he’d expected, with a hospital bed, nondescript wires and machines, and a notable lack of stimulus for a toddler that couldn't be older than two, other than a small desktop computer. Raiden kneeled, facing Olga’s child at eye level, arranging his features into a gentle expression. He knew better than to just grab them and run—knew he had to build some sort of trust first.
Their hazel eyes gazed at Raiden, wide but not afraid, like they’d never seen another person before—maybe they haven’t, his brain supplied—and he moved closer, offering one hand like an olive branch.
A tiny hand reached up and grabbed his forefinger, and he nearly teared up. Oh, God, they’re so small. He cleared his throat, hoping his mask didn't make his voice sound frightening. “Hey, little guy. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”
The child only responded with a curious babble, and Raiden felt his chest hitch—God, they’re not even old enough to speak—but somehow, he felt they understood that he was here to help. Their eyes were bright and inquisitive, and Raiden smiled behind his mask.
He knew he needed to hurry, but he still felt the need to assign a name to that little face; the child was wearing a plastic bracelet, which he inspected carefully.
GURLUKOVICH, SONECHKA
SEX: F
DOA: 3/24/2008
ISOLATION
Isolation. Reading the word sickened him, so he focused on the name. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, yeah…?” he murmured, looking the little girl over; she took after her mother, with her head of smooth silver-blonde hair, and wore a long, slightly ratty nightgown. “How about Sunny for short?”
She gave a gap-toothed smile befitting her new nickname, understanding in her eyes, and Raiden had to close his eyes for a moment, fighting tears again, before he stood up.
“...Alright, up we go.” He lifted her carefully, assessing her comfort level as he moved; she seemed perfectly content in his arms, and he didn't want to move her to his back and risk losing sight of her just yet.
Now came the hard part. Raiden wasn't certain exactly what security measures were in place, and he’d prepared as much as he could, but there were too many unknown factors, and he could only pray for luck.
Nothing, as it turned out, was ever so easy as he wanted it to be.
Not a moment after carrying Sunny out of the door to her room, sirens began blaring, loud enough to drown the senses. Raiden tensed up, holding Sunny closer, but remained steady; this was what he was trained for, this he could handle.
He was halfway to the second door when he heard the soft hissing from the vents. A gaseous...something, spilled into the room, and Raiden’s eyes widened, feeling for his keycard. Knockout gas? A sleeping Sunny he could handle, but drowsiness was less than ideal when searching for an escape route.
Raiden then made the mistake of opening his mouth to breathe.
His mouth filled immediately with the thick, metallic taste of blood. Not knockout gas. Something worse. A sick feeling rose in his chest, and he fumbled for his gas mask, pressing it securely to Sunny’s face, his skin heating up far too quickly. Run, something instinctual in his mind screamed, his feet scrambling to obey just before his throat started burning, corroding, whatever vile chemicals they’d diffused into the air searing agony into his skin, fire in his lungs, like lava sublimated. Run run run run.
The pain made it hard for him to think straight, to think of any escape plan, anything other than get out get out get out. His back felt bruised—likely he’d been shot at as he sprinted through the halls, down the stairs—but it was nothing, nothing at all compared to the torturous cycle of his lungs screaming for air, then screaming in agony as they were consumed in flames with every shuddering, wheezing inhale he managed. Every inch of his skin felt like it was being pressed to a hot oven. He hugged Sunny closer to his chest, praying to whatever god would listen to spare her from this hell.
His eyes were watering, and pain clouded his mind, and he could hardly draw breath without his whole body screaming for mercy, and he’d lost track of time, and he had no clue how he’d gotten here or how he was going to keep moving, but Raiden had found his way to the bottom floor. On legs that felt like they were sprinting independently from his mind, his bulletproof vest somehow holding up to the shots in his back, he shattered a floor-to-ceiling window with a kick and gasped for breath as if drowning, still running as fast as his legs would take him. The fresh air was little more than a false reassurance—the airborne toxin coated his windpipe now, burning agony in his chest—but damn it, Sunny was free.
He sprinted for something like five blocks, thanking God it was as late at night as it was, before spotting a delivery truck of some sort driving in the opposite direction, hardly thinking twice before running after it and stowing away in its bay.
The truck’s engine was loud and old, but Raiden still clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the wheezing, pained breaths he was taking, his other arm wrapped securely around Sunny, who was astoundingly calm. Sitting down for the first time in hours, everything began to catch up with him—his legs cramped up, he dry heaved several times, his skin felt like it was blistering, and his vision pulsed black at the edges, pain threatening to overwhelm his consciousness. Hell, a few bullets had grazed his legs and it was little more than an annoyance compared to the agony just attempting to breathe normally induced. He felt as if he’d scream if he so much as opened his mouth.
Focus… Sunny…
Raiden blinked rapidly to clear his vision, then looked down at the child. Sunny’s eyes were closed—momentarily gripped with panic, he shook her, and she gazed back at him, eyes bright and lively as ever.
What…?
He touched a hand to the skin on his cheek and winced. Rough, blistered, hot to the touch. Looked back down at Sunny, happy as a clam, peacefully asleep, her skin unbroken and smooth. Her breathing was gentle, calm. Normal.
She’s immune…
Raiden hugged her tighter, tears pricking his eyes, his chest swelling with relief. God… thank god, she’s safe, she doesn’t have to suffer… He carefully pulled the gas mask off her face—it hadn’t been necessary in the first place, he failed to realize—and placed it on his own, delusionally hoping it’d help him breathe even the slightest bit easier.
Raiden looked back down at Sunny; her eyes were closed now, but every time they had been open, he’d noticed an unmistakable depth to her gaze, knowledge far beyond her years contained within. She seemed to understand him perfectly when he spoke, but he couldn't speak now; they would have to settle for attempting to communicate via eye contact, which made Raiden’s skin crawl on a good day.
On a whim, he set Sunny down, just across from him, so she could see his face and his arms were free, and signed in ASL, “Do you understand?”
Sunny nodded.
...What? No, no. This truck is bumpy, that must be it. There's no way.
“Do you understand me?”, he repeated.
She nodded again. Then, perfectly understandable, her only impairment being the slight clumsiness of her tiny, chubby hands, Sunny signed, “Hi. Are you a doctor?”
Raiden refrained from replying with another question—namely, how on earth do you know ASL you’re not even two years old—and answered, attempting to soften his expression to one of reassurance, “No. I’m going to take you somewhere you won't get hurt anymore, OK?” Then, after a pause: “Are you feeling OK? Nothing hurts, right?”
Sunny nodded, presumably in response to both questions, and Raiden gave a pained smile behind his mask, relieved that she was truly unharmed. “What did you call me earlier?” She carefully spelled out S-A-N-I, then gave Raiden a curious look.
“S-U-N-N-Y. Like the sun. You can sign it like this.” He came up with the sign for her name on the spot, the letter S then “sunshine”.
She repeated her new nickname several times, then grinned. “Sun. It’s in the sky during the day, right?”
Raiden felt his chest tighten, remembering the “ISOLATION” on her bracelet. “Yes, it is. It keeps us warm and helps plants grow. You’ll get to see soon, OK?” And, now that he was remembering her bracelet, mostly as something to occupy himself with so he wouldn't start crying: “Can I see your hand for a moment?”
Sunny offered her wrist obediently, and he carefully pulled off the bracelet, then threw it off the truck. Sensing her confused look, Raiden waved his hands for a moment, trying to decide how to explain what was happening to a toddler, then managed, “The bad people who hurt you might use that to follow us. I remember what’s on it, so it'll be OK.”
“OK,” Sunny repeated, then tilted her head. “You were talking earlier. Why aren’t you talking now? Can the doctors hear us?”
Ah… Another difficult thing to explain to a toddler. “My throat doesn’t feel very good right now. Don’t worry, OK?”
“You keep…” Sunny fluttered her hands, searching for the right word. “Breathing loud.”
Raiden wheezed, attempting a smile. “Yes, I’ve been coughing a lot. I’ll be OK soon.” Would he, though? He had no idea of the nature of the chemical weapon used against him. The pain had dulled slightly, but it was still ever-present, flames licking his chest with every breath he took.
“You said they hurt me. They hurt you, too.”
Fuck, he couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of Sunny, and salt in the blisters on his cheeks didn’t sound all that pleasant either. Change the subject, change the subject. “What was it like, in your room? If you want to tell me. I’ll make sure it never happens again if it was bad, OK?”
She puffed her cheeks out for a moment. “I like the computer they gave me.”
...Even as smart as she was, Sunny was still just a child. Raiden prompted gently, “What would happen on a normal day for you?”
Sunny was quiet for a long moment, apparently mulling the question over. “They used to put lots of wires and needles in me. They don’t do that anymore, but I liked that because even though it hurt they were in the room with me. After that they didn’t come in anymore.”
Raiden barely managed to mask an expression of horror, and shifted slightly closer to her, watching patiently. “Things come up on the computer screen that they want me to program for them. If I don’t finish it, they don’t give me any food. They put it through the little hole in the wall.”
Jesus, those monsters. He squeezed his hands into tight fists for a moment, inhaling sharply, then attempted to distract Sunny from what she’d just described. “You must know lots about computers.”
“Yeah,” Sunny signed, giving a gap-toothed grin. “They had me use C# but I like Java.”
“Java…? Like, coffee…?”
“Programming language.” She giggled, clear and sweet as a bell.
“Sunny, I think you might be smarter than I am…” Raiden wheezed, an attempt at a laugh.
She fidgeted for a moment, hesitating on her next words. “What’s your name? I thought you were Mom at first, but you're just a nice man.”
He resisted the urge to give her another comforting hug, knowing he had to leave her arms free to speak, and swallowed painfully. Raiden was rather proud of the sign for his name, and he did his best to muster up the enthusiasm to show it off: “R-A-I-D-E-N. Raiden.” The letter R, flowing smoothly into “thunder” and then “lightning”.
Sunny repeated the name to herself a few times, looking a bit perturbed. “Thunder. That's bad weather… You're not like thunder. It's loud and scary. You're bright and nice, like…” She beamed, almost mischievous. “Like ‘sunny’!”
...Oh, damn it, he needed to hug her now, didn't he.
Raiden picked her up gently, holding her close; she was so small. So vulnerable, so sweet, despite the hell she was put through…
He eased up after a minute, still cradling Sunny in his arms, but holding her in a way that let her communicate. Remember, you promised yourself you wouldn't cry.
“Why did you squeeze me like that?” Sunny signed, her eyes big and worried. “Are the bad people coming back?”
Fuck. A few tears escaped, burning a trail down his blistered cheeks. Ow. Shit, this hurts. God, she doesn't even know what a hug is… He made some sort of involuntary noise of pain, reluctantly setting the child down so he could speak to her, and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, wincing as another flash of white-hot pain resulted.
“It’s…” He signed slowly, overwhelmed, trying to get his emotions back under control. “That's a hug. You can hug people to show you care about them. It helps people feel better when they're sad, too.”
“Oh,” Sunny signed in reply with her little arms, then crawled over to Raiden, and hugged him back.
He held her for several minutes; he was battered and exhausted, and she was falling victim to the sleepiness typical for someone her age, but he managed to keep one eye open and a steady, supportive arm around Sunny. Slowly, he noticed, the truck was stopping and starting more often, and driving less quickly overall; they’d reached another town. He woke Sunny gently, and managed to sign to her with one hand, “Getting off now.”
She nodded, and the next time the truck came to a stop, Raiden carefully jumped off, hugging Sunny close. It was pitch-black, and the light pollution was low enough that thousands, millions of stars were visible. He breathed a sigh of relief, plodding to the sidewalk and looking around dazedly. This town looked completely residential, and as far as he could tell, everyone was asleep; he sat down, wanting a moment of quiet to think of his next move. The snow felt cool underneath him, and, possessed by some animal need, he grabbed a handful, pushed his mask out of the way, and shoved it into his mouth, desperate for anything to soothe the persistent burning sensation.
It really didn't do much but wash down the chemical taste. Worth a shot.
“Does that taste good? Can I have some?” Sunny had already plopped down to inspect the snow herself, and Raiden wheezed lightly, gently taking her hands to stop her from doing so.
“It's not good for you. I only did that because my mouth is hurting right now.” He smiled weakly, realizing she could see his face again.
Sunny seemed to be studying him closely, coming up with ideas in her little brain, and Raiden waited patiently, not quite holding her gaze but instead looking at the stars behind her.
“I know you're not Mom now. But I read a little about family, on the computer. You feel like family, too.”
Oh, god. Another painful tug of emotion at his chest. He steeled himself, keeping his expression calm and watching quietly.
“You're not old enough for ‘dad’, I think,” Sunny pondered, oblivious. “You’re more like a big brother… Can I call you that?”
Raiden rubbed at his face again, preempting any more tears; this was almost too much to handle. When he replied, it was slow, deliberate. “...Of course you can, Sunny.”
The smile he received in return was so blindingly bright he immediately began to question himself. His original plan had been to drop Sunny off with Snake and Otacon anonymously, content only with knowing she'd be safe. But, now… Shit. I can’t leave her, can I? Not after that…
He swallowed hard. Keep moving. Work it out with them when you get there.
After a careful, affectionate ruffle of Sunny’s hair, Raiden gently helped her into what was essentially the baby carrier on his back; he needed to move as quickly and safely as possible, and he figured he’d need both hands for what he was about to do. During his earlier contemplation, he’d noticed a quiet little house with a snowmobile parked neatly outside. Stealing would be inconvenient, but…
Before leaving, he carefully traced into the snow with his finger: SORY ABOT YOUR SNOMABILE. XXX-141-5758