Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ray couldn't even bring himself to cry the day they took Emma away.

Everything felt frozen. When he looked at Emma, laughing and smiling among her family in her foster (funeral) outfit, he felt like he was looking at an image, a last picturesque moment before Emma died.

His mind wasn't working, either. Every thought was just a stream of oh my God, this wasn't in the plan, this wasn't in the plan, how could Mama send Emma out early, didn't they have a deal?

Vaguely, he could make out Emma saying something to a teary-eyed Phil. Ray couldn’t focus. 

Quickly, think, think. What could he do right now to save Emma, as she's walking out that door to her doom. Quickly, quickly, oh my God she's opening the door Mama is opening the door and they're about to leave hurry up hurry up think think THINK

But in the end it was fruitless. Emma gave everyone one last radiant, everlasting smile and the front doors shut with a bang. Ray's head went from going a mile a minute to radio static.

Emma will be dead within the hour. And Ray couldn't even do anything, a single thing, to save the only person who'd made his life worth living.

Some friend he was. Some family he was.

The room returned to its usual chatter. The kids cheerfully conversed about Emma's leaving, some feeling happy for her ("I hope she'll like her foster parents!" Phil exclaimed) to teary complaints ("What are we going to do without Emma? The house will feel so empty now!" Jemima cried). Ray couldn't move. He couldn't even sink into the wall and wail. He couldn't speak, couldn't do, couldn't-

Couldn't feel.

Ray couldn't feel anymore.

He almost smirked. No matter. He'd be dead in two months, anyway.

The next two months were a blur.

He had scrapped his escape plan. He couldn't care anymore. Living, dying, what was the difference at this point? He couldn't see Emma either way.

He spent most of his time huddled up in a dark corner of the library, staring blankly at the first page of a book whose name he can’t remember. Occasionally, Phil would come and ask him if he was alright, but it was no matter. Phil would leave soon if Ray stayed silent and didn’t answer. 

Whatever. If he wanted to look on the bright side, this would fit right into his plans. He could set the House aflame, maybe even take Mama down with him. It was barely something to look forward to, his death of all things, but even so Ray kept going through the motions. Waiting for the day to come claim him.

Until it didn’t. 

Because, for some reason, at the ungodly hour of twelve in the morning, Phil was there in the cafeteria, staring at him with his wide blue eyes.

Ray stared down at him, cold and uncaring.

“Stand back, Phil.”

Phil’s face went from confused to upset. “What are you going to do?”

“Set myself on fire. Stand back, Phil.”

Phil shook his head. “No! Emma told me to look after you.”

Ray almost barked a laugh at that. He still couldn’t muster the energy. “That doesn’t matter. Emma is dead.” 

Phil kept shaking his head. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes. “No. Emma entrusted her last wishes to me. She wouldn’t want you to die.”

“Why do you think I’m going to die?”

“You’re going to set yourself on fire.”

Ray didn’t answer anymore. 

Phil stepped closer. “Ray…”

Ray lit the match. 

Then Mama extinguished it.

Ray’s pupils shrank to a dot. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion again. He turned his head to the right.

He wanted to throw up at the sight of Mama’s smiling face.

“Ray,” she said in that gentle, motherly voice. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

He hadn’t been paying attention. He had been so focused on Phil, so focused on the match between his fingers and the gasoline soaking his hair and the tiredness of his labored heart, thumping, thumping, thumping on borrowed time. 

He’d really been out of it. He’d failed.

His shock then dissipated, and overwhelming anger rushed through him like a wildfire.

With one swift move, he tore open the matchbox and grabbed another match. He elbowed Mama in the chest and he lit it. He let go. The matchbox, matches, and flames all fell. 

And before they could hit the floor, Mama swooped down with one swift lunge and grabbed all three. The flames of Ray’s rebellion were extinguished in her arms. 

Ray’s hands were shaking. His knees felt like they could give out under him at any moment. His breathing was loud and ragged. He realized just how much, at the moment, he probably looked like a crazed old man.

He didn’t turn to look at Mama, but he knew exactly what expression rested on her face. 

“Ray,” she said. “Aren’t you tired?”

And yes , Ray thought, of course I’m tired. I’ve been tired since the day Emma was lead out that door. I’ve been tired since I found out that monsters were eating us for breakfast and I had to sell myself for knowledge. I’ve been tired since I was born and my mother abandoned me to be fodder.

He didn’t reply. Isabella made a noise that sounded a little like a laugh and a little like a sigh of relief. Ray didn’t question it.

And, as she lead him upstairs, Ray realized that, ah, this is it. He’d truly given up. 

Ray’s last day came without much fanfare. The kids were still fond of him, despite his detachment for the last two months, and they tried to get him to play tag and rock-paper-scissors with them during their free time. Ray almost wanted to appreciate it, but he couldn’t. He might as well have been dead already.

Still, he humored them and let them lead him around. It was less tiring than refusing. He got caught at tag. He halfheartedly threw out rock when playing Tom. He caught Mama staring at him across the vast, green field a couple times. She smiled at him. He turned away.

The day passed as quickly as the rest of the last two months. Ray supposed the passage of time hadn’t been the biggest of concerns lately. He supposed he didn’t really have concerns lately.

And here he was, dressed in the same foster family uniform ( funeral clothes , his mind screamed) that Emma wore the day she was taken. He walks down the stairs in the house that he grew up with for the last time.

Mama was waiting by the door for him. The children all looked up at him with sad, anticipating eyes. Ray didn’t want to get sentimental, but he supposed some part of him was still alive. Maybe the part that Emma resided in. He looked across the sea of kids. Jemima was crying. Phil just looked sad. Don and Gilda, in the back, almost looked angry, but still melancholic nonetheless. Well, it made sense. Ray had been quite a dick to everyone the last two months. Don and Gilda were probably caught in his slew of apathy.

“Ray.”

He turned to see his mother’s hand, extended with a single hat. The rote motions his machine body now followed nearly took it, but he stopped himself. The hat made Ray sick. It reminded him of everyone he was unable to save. 

He decided to give speaking a try. “Do I have to wear the hat?” He hated how small and weak his voice sounded. He knew he doesn’t care much anymore, but he still didn’t want her to see his weakness.

She smiled. “It would be the best if you did, but it’s optional, Ray.”

He didn’t take it. He didn’t even want to touch it. 

She held her hand out. Ray decided that in his last moments, he might as well be as spiteful as he could. He didn’t take it.

And she made that noise again, the half-laughter, half-sigh. She almost sounded proud. 

And she opens the door.

And they step out into the front fields. 

Ray hopes it will be painless.

Chapter Text

They arrived at the gate. In a moment of sentimentality, Ray noted that he hadn’t seen those monsters since his birth exactly twelve years ago.

What a throwback this would be.

Mama stepped in front of the gate, every step as graceful and controlled as they had always been. Ray wondered how, right now, as she was sending her biological son off to his death, she could be so calm. Maybe it was the same way he was so complacent and uncaring after Emma’s death. Maybe Mama had lost someone, or too many people, important to her to care anymore. 

That was one thing they had in common. It filled Ray’s empty heart with the tiniest sliver of comfort. 

And perhaps the tiniest bit of disgust.

The gate opened. 

Mama turned to Ray and smiled at him, for perhaps the last time. Good. Ray was tired of seeing her smiles. Tired of living. 

Before Mama could even step past the gate, Ray had already taken two steps forward. He was ready.

But-

Something was strange.

Ray didn’t hear anyone. See anyone. 

Apparently, Mama thought something was strange too. She stepped out after Ray and looked around.

The entire space was devoid of any demons.

Ray was… 

Glad?

Disappointed?

Mama seemed to notice that something different was going on. She paced around the area, her controlled steps (slightly) more frantic.

Ray looked to his left. 

Among all the identical iron double doors, the one closest to him had the lights on inside.

There was someone there.

He glanced towards Mama, who had stopped pacing and begun to stare off with her chin to her hands. He looked back to the double doors.

Should he…? 

Ray hadn’t made a decision in so long. After Emma left, he had stopped thinking . This was almost foreign now. He felt like he was using his legs again after living in a wheelchair. 

He took one uncertain step towards the door. 

Mama noticed him move. She, too, saw the door. “What…” 

Ray kept steadily walking towards it, more assured now. He put his hand on the doorknob. It turned.

He pushed. 

And he found himself staring at the face of an adult . 

A blond man, with hair down to his shoulders, in one of the fancy business suits he had read about his many books about people making it in the big city . 

Ray was shocked.

In place of the demons he had expected to take his life, a man was here. A normal, regular human . 

Ray didn’t trust him in the slightest.

(This was the first time in two months Ray had felt anything.)

He didn’t have a chance to speak before he heard Mama’s voice sound from behind him. “This is a surprise. And you are…?”

The blond man smiled. “Peter Ratri. Pleased to meet you.” 

Mama gave a short bow. “Isabella. Are you here to deliver the merchandise?”

Peter laughed. “My, speaking so openly in front of said merchandise. So I assume he knows. You’ve kept him in check, then, I see.”

Mama gives a short nod. It might’ve been unnoticeable to anyone else, but Ray saw that her lips were slightly pursed. 

Peter chuckles and continues. “Well, I was a bit surprised too, but it turns out there’s been a change of plans.” 

He stares straight past Ray and into Mama’s eyes. “Ray is coming to our experimental farm, Lambda-7214. He’s going to help us cultivate a more widely available, high-quality food source for the people.” 

Mama nearly looks displeased at this. “I thought Ray was one hundred percent going to the Tifari. The other premium merchandise wasn’t going to them, so I thought it would be this one.”

Peter shrugged. “It was sudden, but it was a direct command. I guess they’ve found some other one for the Tifari.”

“But I’m the only one who can deliver food qualified enough for the Tifari. My farm-” 

“Isabella.” 

Mama freezes in her tracks. A single drop of sweat is glistening on her face.

Peter gave an amiable smile. Just as fake as Mama’s. “I know this is a sudden, seemingly foolish decision, but you should just trust the higher-ups. They have everything under control.”

Mama was silent for a beat. Then, she gave a short bow. “Understood.”

Peter laughed. “Good! Now, back to Ray here, right? You’re coming with me!” 

Ray had barely processed the exchange when Peter patted him on the back and began leading him out of the room. 

When they were halfway to the carriage, Ray realized.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to be an experiment to help them make better food.

He wanted to be dead , alright? Dead, preferably in a fire last night, but he’d take being monster food over living while being haunted by Emma’s smile and the ever-persistent emptiness in his chest. And now, on top of all that, he had to help these monsters eat more humans.

He had to stop. He had to resist. To- to someting.

He had to do something. 

But what could he really do?

Run for it? He could run for it. The gate on the other side might be opened. If he could run-

But he wasn’t as fast as Mama. And there was no guarantee Mama wouldn’t come after him. 

Besides, Peter still had his hand on his back.

It was too complicated, and he didn’t have enough time. 

He didn’t have enough will. Enough energy. 

Ray remembered just how tired he was. 

His whole body relaxed. Peter led him into the side seat of a vehicle. He shut the door. 

In his haze, Ray almost didn’t notice Peter stepping into the car, the click of a key turning, the hum of the engines. Did it really even matter? 

Emma was still dead. He was still alive. He was descending into Hell. 

Ray didn’t fall asleep for the entire ride, but he let the sound of the engines gently lull him into a foggy daze.

Peter stopped the vehicle some time later. Ray heard him shuffling around, and soon found Peter’s hand holding a cloth out to him. 

When he didn’t respond, Peter said, “A blindfold.”

Ah. Didn’t want to give him too much of a vantage point, after all. Ray took it and tied it around his head. 

He thought it was strange that it would be so easy to take off, but he kept his hands off the blindfold. There was no point in taking them off, anyway.

Ray heard the click of a key turning and the hum of the car started back up again.

He lulled himself back into his state of unawareness.

Another click. The car had stopped. Ray was jolted back into reality.

The click of his door opening. Monotonously, Ray stepped out. 

Peter took his hand and began leading him.

Ray was too exhausted (of everything, emotionally, physically) to really take notes, but he heard the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

A hum and a click, presumably of a door opening. Ray allowed himself to be lead.

It began to smell sterile, almost like cleaning products, but in a more disgusting, inhuman way. Ray could swear he heard distant crying. 

After some time of this, he could feel another presence approaching. A large dark patch. Not a human. He felt himself tense up.

Peter spoke up. “Take him to one of the designated rooms, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

And bigger, more inhumane hands were suddenly in Ray’s and leading him off. 

Another hum and click. He was shoved into (presumably) a room.

“You can take your blindfold off now, kid.”

Ray made no means to move. 

“Meals will be delivered three times a day. We’ll take you out for testing occasionally, don’t protest.”

Ray didn’t say anything. 

The demon shuffled. Then, footsteps moving away from the room. 

Well. Now he was all alone. 

For real this time, not the alone he’d forced himself into after Emma’s death.

There was so much he could do, and yet there wasn’t anything he could do. So he stood there. 

And stood there.

The static in his ears grew louder and louder.

His senses blurred. He ceased to think. 

And the pounding and pounding of his tired heart-

And the distant cries he swore he heard-

And the hum - click hum - click of mechanical doors-

He was losing his senses. No, he was losing sense of himself. He’d gotten himself into a hole this deep and he couldn’t even bring himself to move or think or care-

The impending feeling of dread sloshed and boiled with the apathy in his belly until it grew and grew and grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND GREW AND IT WAS OVERWHELMING HIM- 

“Ray! Are you there?”

It all went silent. 

“Ray! Ray? This is the right room, right?”

With shaking hands, he went to take off his blindfold. 

“Hey, if you’re there-”

Eyes wide, he slowly turned to the inconspicuous little receiver on the wall.

“-say something!” 

“Emma,” he said. His voice was so parched and unused that he barely sounded like himself. He wondered if the person on the other end would recognize him.

A nervous giggle came from the receiver. It expanded, grew louder and louder until the speaker was hollering with laughter. The laughter subsided for a moment, like the speaker was trying to contain themself, and then-

“Ray! You’re okay! You’re really okay!” 

And Ray’s tired heart, for the first time in a while, feels alive again. 

Chapter Text

“How? How are you alive?”

Emma’s familiar telltale giggle sounds from the receiver again. Ray thought he would never hear the sound again, and yet here he was.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Mama didn’t send me off to be killed, right? I’m safe, I’m safe, we’re safe, okay!” 

“But- but-”

He trails off as he realized he can’t choose what to say. 

“Wait, Ray, you aren’t hurt or anything, right?”

Ray shakes his head. “No, no. What about you? What are they doing to you here?”

“Ah, don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m okay! They’re mostly doing experiments on the guy next door.”

So there were more kids like them in here. 

Emma then makes a noise. “Ah, I guess there’s a lot to explain to you here… um, I guess I should start from the beginning. You know about the monsters, right?”

Ray nods, before realizing that Emma couldn’t see him. He speaks into the receiver. “Yeah, I do.”

The other end of the line is silent for a bit. “Ah, are you… okay after finding out? That we’re food?” 

Ray contemplates telling her how long she’s known. “...Yeah.” 

Another beat. “Well… if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m right here.” Oh, little does she know. “It’s good that you do know, though! This might sound a bit selfish, but I’m glad I don’t have to break it to you!” A carefree laugh sounds from the receiver. Ray’s heart soars. “So, anyway, Mama didn’t send me to be eaten! When I got to the gate, there was a man, and he brought me here. Apparently there was a child here that needed a friend for further… um, experimentation. And the friend needed to be of higher intelligence, like us full-scorers. So they sent me when it was my time!” 

That was incredible. Emma hadn’t died, by this stroke of luck. 

It was great. It was a miracle. It was… 

Awfully suspicious. 

Ray leans into the receiver. “Hey, Emma, you aren’t being manipulated by anyone, are you?”

Emma makes a noise of disagreement. “No, no, Ray, don’t worry about that. Don’t worry about any of that. Actually, me and Norman have been manipulating them .” 

Norman? 

It’s suspicious. Ray doesn’t want to, but the less trusting side of him screams WARNING! WARNING! DO NOT TRUST HER right now. He’s glad to be reunited with his friend, but he has no idea what they can do to them inside this facility. For all he knows, Emma might be brainwashed right now. Ray decides to push on this. “Who’s Norman?”

“Oh! He’s the guy next door I was talking about. Um, he doesn’t have a line directly connected to you. In truth, I don’t have a line connected to him before. I’ve only heard his voice about once, and that’s how I found out he was a boy.” 

Sounds even more suspicious. Ray’s heart pounds with anxiety. 

Then, as if reading his mind, Emma speaks. “Oh! I know I can trust him, Ray, don’t worry. I’ve learned a lot in these past two months. I’m not as naive as I was, you know?”

She pouts with the last couple words. Ray can’t stop the smile from forming on his face. 

Emma continues. “So, anyway, this Norman guy was the one who helped me set up this line with you! I was insistent on getting this, so you didn’t feel too alienated or surprised when you got here.”

Ray lets out a sigh. Ah, it was just like Emma to do that. To qualm his fears and overthinking mind-

Wait.

How did he get here? 

Emma was the only other full-scorer, the other “premium merchandise.” If she wasn’t sent to be eaten, then… 

“Emma.”

“...Yes?”

“Why am I not being eaten? You know why I’m asking, right?”

“...Norman pulled some strings.” 

“‘Pulled some strings’? I’m assuming I’m valuable merchandise. I go to the top. What kind of strings could you have even pulled to get me out of my situation?”

“We faked a command.”

“Huh?”

“We faked a command from the higher-ups to the people here.”

Ray is dumbfounded. They… 

They faked a command? 

That was… too risky!

Risky for them, if (when) they get caught, and for him, whose safety is sitting atop a sheet of thin glass!

He leans into the receiver. “Emma! What… what if…”

“Don’t worry! Don’t worry! We definitely won’t get caught.”

“...”

“...And even if we do, I’ll figure something out.” 

A long silence ensues.

Emma breaks it. “Well… I’ll see you soon, maybe. The people here intend to use you in experiments with Norman, not me, so I think you’ll meet him first. Get along, alright?”

“...”

“...”

“Alright.”

Emma breaks it. “Well… I’ll see you soon, maybe. The people here intend to use you in experiments with Norman, not me, so I think you’ll meet him first. Get along, alright?”

“...”

“...”

“Alright.”

Emma gives a huff from her side. “I’m serious, Ray. He’s really smart, and he’s gonna help us escape. Trust us on this.”

Escape? It was something Ray hadn’t even bothered to touch after Emma died. He hadn’t even remembered it was a possibility.

This Norman… he had saved Ray, and now… 

Emma’s voice resounds again. “Well, I’ll talk to you later, Ray. I don’t want them to get suspicious. My room has a glass barrier instead of a wall... I don’t know about your’s.”

Ray looks. He hadn’t even noticed what kind of walling the room had. There’d been so much more to focus on. “I have a solid wall.”

“That’s good…”

Ray didn’t want to hang up. The conversation felt so unfinished. He’d learned a lot, and they’d reconciled, but overall he was missing answers. He was missing so many pieces. Only a small bit of the puzzle was complete. He wondered if he would ever properly finish it.

But, for Emma, for Emma who is alive and breathing and here taking to him, he’ll live. He’ll keep going. He softly into the receiver. It makes his voice sound even scratchier and weaker, but he’s sure Emma won’t mind. “Well, see-ya, Emma.”

A happy laugh and a sigh. “See-ya, Ray.”

And a click. The receiver is silent. 

Ray stares at it for a good minute, and then gets up from his kneeling position to look at the (his) room for the first time. It’s small. There’s a bed in one corner and a toilet and sink in another. 

He stalks over to his bed and lets himself fall on it.

Ah, what a long day.

The adrenaline and shock from his conversation is finally catching up to him. His heart beats, but this time with apprehension rather than the dead, forced beating it held before. 

He just talked with Emma. 

Nothing was okay, Ray was still in hell, but what did that matter? The one person he’d ever cared for was alive.

Ray allows himself to sink into sleep.

Chapter Text

“Oi, get up, runt!”

Ray snaps himself awake. The enemy. A monster. His moment of panic is then overridden by his fatigue. He groans. What a rude awakening. He thinks about the kids back at the orphanage, tentatively poking at his face and repeating his name over and over to wake him up. This was different. Quick, get up, get up. The enemy is here. His body responds and he rolls out of bed and onto the cold, hard floor. 

The door does its hum-click thing again, and it opens. “Get up. Follow me.”

Ray rubs his temples. How long has he been asleep? Where is he again? And yesterday- yesterday-

Emma is alive. She had talked to him through the small white receiver on the wall. 

That’s all it takes. Ray forces himself off the floor and out the door to the monster . 

He thinks that maybe, if he were in his right mind, he would be more scared, but too much has happened lately for him to think about that. Besides, the thing probably won’t hurt him. He walks out next to it and he’s hit by a nauseating scent. Probably its breath. 

He’s surprised that they didn’t give him a blindfold, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter too much if he knows the interior of the building. It’s the outside that will tell him where he is, the optimal conditions to escape, etc. 

Or maybe they just couldn’t bother enough to give him one. Who knows. 

The monster puts a weapon to his back and begins to push him. Ray figures it’s smart to move right now, so he lets himself be pushed down the winding, bright white hallways.

As he walked down the smooth tile floors, he had the time to wonder where they were taking him. 

Yesterday… his talk with Emma… 

She had hypothesized he would be meeting Norman soon.

This soon? It hadn’t even been a day yet. Well, Ray couldn’t be too surprised, he supposed. 

The monster stops behind him, and Ray snaps out of his head. He looks around. To his right, more bright white walls. To his left, a door much like his. 

The monster, with the weapon still pointed at Ray’s back, steps forward and pushes a couple buttons. Ray memorizes the passcode. He wonders why the monster isn’t stopping him.

The monster calls into the room. “You. Get out here.” 

Ray tenses up. Wait, this was the guy who saved him, right? The guy who teamed up with Emma and reunited them. The guy who had given Ray hope again, a reason to live again. Just what kind of person could he be?

...Or, on the flip side, maybe he would be a double-agent, working for both the monsters and Emma. From what Emma told him, Ray couldn’t deduce anything about him, except that he had been here longer than Emma, and he was (possibly) extremely intelligent. So…

Before he can connect his next thought, a boy walks through the door.

Oh.

Oh.

Ray doesn’t know what he had been expecting, but…

Snow-white hair, and soft blue eyes like the sky. Or maybe like what Ray imagines the sea to be like. He has a pale, sickly disposition, like he’s a step away from Death’s door, and his skin is nearly the same color as his hair. His cheeks are gaunt and sunken. He’s all skin and bones. There is no string on numbers on his neck like Ray, but he has a hunch that there’s probably a branding somewhere else.

He looks… 

He looks beautiful. Ethereal. Untouchable. 

(- like a fresh snowfall- no, like a lab experiment to be kept in pristine condition.) 

The pale boy looks up at him. There are noticeable bags under his eyes, deep ones, perhaps even worse than Ray’s. And Ray didn’t think that was even possible. He notices Ray, and a faint, almost unnoticeable smile forms on his face. 

This was the kid who was going to save them? 

They stare at each other for a while, unsure of what to do. Ray is half-expecting the boy to hold out his hand for him to shake. Despite his pallid appearance, he still looks like the type who would do that - polite, well-mannered, so on.

But he doesn’t. And after around ten seconds of staring, it seemed like the monster had gotten sick of waiting. 

“Alright. Move it, now.” 

It extends its weapon horizontally and, like he’s using a broom to herd out cats. Ray lifts his arms up in mock defeat and begins to walk. As he does, he sneaks a glance at the pale boy to his right. 

He looked calm and bored, like he’d been doing this his whole life. Actually, he probably had. Was…

Was this Norman? He looked like someone who’d given up on life.

Then again, intelligent, right? Maybe this was all a ruse.

…

It sure didn’t look like one. 

The pale boy looked… genuinely sad, despite his faint, ever-present smile. 

Well, there was always the chance this wasn’t Norman. Ray would just have to wait and see.

They’re lead into a room with three blank white walls and one large mirror. Ray marks the mirror with suspicion. A one-way…? It was likely. They’d need to watch them in real time here.

There’s a tiny, plastic chess set placed on the floor in the middle of the room. The pieces are scattered. It looks used.

The pale boy calmly drags himself over to one side of the chess set and sits himself on the floor.

Ray catches on and follows suit. 

Before he can even get himself situated, the boy is already setting up his chess board in a neat array.

Rook. Knight. Bishop. King.

Ray, realizing that the boy will be done setting soon, begins to set his side.

He sets a rook.

Queen.

A knight.

Bishop.

A bishop.

Knight.

King, queen, bishop.

Rook. A rook.

Ray had scrambled to set them before the other boy finished. He doesn’t know why, but the other boy evokes a sense of urgency and competition in him.

The boy pauses when their rooks are set at the same time. He slowly lifts his head up and gives Ray a curious look.

But the moment is over as soon as it passes. He goes back to finishing setting his side of the chess board. Ray lets him finish this time before setting his own.

Ray doesn’t know for sure, but he swears he can feel the boy’s eyes on him as he’s setting his pawns.

The second he sets his last one down, the boy moves one of his pawns two steps forward.

The game’s started. No matter. Ray can learn and adjust quickly. He moves one of his knights over a pawn. 

The boy moves another pawn two steps forward.

Ray moves another pawn.

Pawn.

Knight.

Knight.

Pawn.

Rook.

Rook. 

Pawn.

Pawn.

Queen.

Bishop.

They settle into a steady rhythm. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Ray’s confident, almost defiant moves. The boy’s calculated motions. 

Then, the pale boy moves, waits for Ray’s turn, and then captures one of his pieces. 

Ray moves again. He can get the pale boy’s piece on his next turn.

He doesn’t know what they’ll do if he wins or loses, but for now, he’ll try to win. They need the subject to work so they can keep it. Ray doesn’t want to be kicked out of this place just yet.

He gets the boy’s piece on the next turn. 

The boy gets his piece on his.

On the next turn, he gets another piece. The boy gets a piece on his turn, too.

The game feels like it goes on forever. Ray’s already settled into the rhythm of the tinny little plastic pieces on their plastic board. He gets a lot of the boy’s pieces, but the boy keeps up. When his turn comes up again, Ray can see a clear path towards winning. He moves a piece…

And gets checked by the pale boy.

The boy’s hand is still hovering over his knocked over king. The boy’s movements so far have all been controlled, but fast. This one seemed slow and deliberate. Almost like it was for dramatic effect.

Ray doesn’t really know if the boy is teasing him or not, but he is a bit irked.

The boy closes his eyes and his lips morph from his fading smile into a small grin. A little huff could be heard.

...Alright, so he was smart and confident. Go figure.

The door of their confinement then bursts open. The monster is back, and with company. 

Shit. More of them. What are they doing here? Are they going to do something to Ray, since he lost? Shit, he’d tried his hardest and still failed, huh? 

But most of them walk right past him and surround the pale boy, who gets up with labored movements and allows himself to be lead out the door.

Wait. So the winner got sent off? Or maybe it was just the pale boy’s routine. 

The monster from before, the one that had led him in here, walked up to Ray with his weapon. Ray quickly moves himself off the ground and begins walking out the door.

“Hey! Stay with me!” the monster barked.

Ray slows himself down to feel the weapon pushed against his back. The monster pushes him along out the door.

This time, he pays more attention as they’re heading back, It’s the same route, Ray knows that much, and he’s pretty much already memorized the way, but it would do good to now all the smaller details: possible security camera, sensors, anything he could grasp, honestly. He keeps his ear out for the distant wails he’d heard when he first arrived, but it was silent. He guesses it’s because he’s too far away from them to hear. 

He looks along the other doors lining the hallway. They pretty much have the same method of opening he has seen before. A passcode, and then a hum-click . The passcodes shouldn’t be too hard to get, but that’s why he’s worried. If the passcodes were so easily accessible, then maybe there was some other form of identification required to get in. A retinal scan, maybe? 

There seem to be security cameras lining the hallway at the corners and, occasionally, in front of a door. There are blank spots, most of them small and only spanning small bits of the blank wall. Ray keeps this in mind. 

When he’s finally shoved back into his room, (the hum-click of his door ensuring that he is now, in fact, alone,) his first instinct is talk to Emma. Talk to Emma about what happened today and maybe she can give you pointers for the future, or formulate a plan. Maybe she already does have a plan. It’s been two months, after all.

He looks warily at the receiver. It’s not in the blind spot of the room (in fact, there are no blind spots in the room). They’d know if he used it. But, if the monsters came in and installed this themselves, they can’t have too much of a problem with him using it. Yesterday, no one caught him, so he supposes he’s either extremely lucky or the people watching him don’t care. 

He can’t help but worry, though. Does Emma really have it all covered?

He sneaks a glance up at his security camera, and then gets closer to the receiver. 

There’s no visible button or switch or any mechanism that could turn it on. In fact, it’s really just a speaker and transmitter. If he were back at the House, he would definitely try taking it apart to see if he could turn it on, but he definitely can’t afford to do that here. If he breaks it, he’ll lose his only source of communication with Emma. He still doesn’t know where she is, and the boy earlier from today wasn’t much of a help information-wise.

Emma probably has the button on her side, since she was the one who had initiated the call yesterday. 

He pokes around for a couple more minutes, and there’s really nothing he can do.

So he flops down on the bed and lays there.

It’s silent. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but as it weathers on and on he can hear the ringing in his ears grow louder and his surroundings grow foggier and foggier. His mind still has the capacity to think, though.

The boy from earlier. Ray’s never been beaten as chess back at the House before, except exactly two times by Emma and always by Mama. Other than that, he’s been the reigning champion.

Where did this boy come from? From what Ray knows, there have got to be other Houses like his. But back then, Mama mentioned…

“But I’m the only one who can deliver food qualified enough for the Tifari. My farm-”

Then, the pale boy was an irregularity? An extremely smart piece of merchandise outside of Mama’s farm? 

But even outside of that… 

Ray has had this in the back of his mind all day, but he’s never bothered to delve deeper into it. The thought made him at the least uncomfortable and at the most, panicked. Was the pale boy Norman?

It would all add up. In fact, Ray pretty much already held the two as a singular person. Emma’s description didn’t give much, but she said that he was a boy, he was intelligent, and that Ray would be meeting with him soon. The pale boy hit all the marks.

But… another smaller, less logical part of him couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was because he had aligned the image of Norman with someone strong, confident, a little sinister looking and definitely sketchy, with a determined look on his face. The image of the pale boy in his head was small, gaunt, cowered down in defeat but with a hint of pride still rising above the surface. The smile that seemed to be drawn on with ink rather than really there.

He just didn’t want to believe that was Norman, huh?

The ringing grows. The harsh white ceiling of the room is a blur. He wonders where they’d taken the boy after their match…

Click. Bzzzt.

Ray jolts back into reality.

“Ray! Are you there?”

Ray scrambles to the receiver. “Yeah, Emma, I’m here.”

“Ah! Thank goodness.”

“And what about you, Emma? Are you okay?”

Shuffling from Emma’s side. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! They left me alone for most of today, gave me some tests and stuff. Heh, I tried failing a couple answers again… I don’t want them to think I’m too smart.”

“Huh? Why not?” 

“Ah, Norman says that if they know you’re at a certain level, they’ll run tests on you.”

Ah. So Norman was on that level, huh?

Distantly, he recalls that the pale boy, who’s probably Norman, is on that level too. 

“-So, yeah, you should deliberately fail too.”

Ray gives a short huff of a laugh. “Noted.”

Emma laughs back, and then says, “Hey, so. What did you do today?”

“Ah, yeah. They took me out to play chess. I think I met Norman.”

“Hm. Um, kind of cocky, really smart, and let me guess, he won?”

“Yep.”

“That’s probably Norman.”

“Huh. He seemed kinda dickish to me. He always has this smile on his face.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. I’m sure he’s nice! And wow, I never knew that! Wait, wait, what did he look like?”

A million descriptors come to mind, all of them contributing to a weak and cowering image. 

“Uh, gaunt, kinda skinny looking. Hair white, like snow, and bright blue eyes. His skin is really pale, too. I’d guess he doesn’t go outside often.” He huffs. “Doesn’t look like a ‘Norman’ at all.” 

He hears a hmmmm from the other side of the receiver. “Well, it’s not what I expected, but he sounds nice! I’d like to meet him.” 

“Are you kidding? I still can’t believe you talked to this guy without even knowing what he looked like. How can you be so sure he isn’t dangerous?”

“Ray, looks aren’t everything? And besides, I guess it was… a hunch.”

“A hunch?!”

“Not like, a hunch without any basis! Like, the way he spoke, and the gut feeling I got. I trust those.”

“He could me manipulating you.”

“I know that, Ray. But he’s a valuable ally, right?”

Well…

He’d saved Ray from death. He’d help set up a communication system with him and Emma. He’d kept Emma company these two months.

He guessed… 

He sighs. “You’re right, Emma. As always. But still, you gotta be more careful with these things.”

She laughs. “I got it, I got it!”

Ray blows out. “Anyway, the guy I saw still might not be Norman. Maybe I’ll ask next time.”

“He’s probably Norman.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it can’t hurt to be sure. Anyway, Emma, where are you? If this system ever breaks down, I need a way to reach you.”

“Ah, I don’t know where I am in comparison to your room, actually, since you just moved here… but from my room to Norman’s room, it’s a right, and then a left, and then there’s a lock, kind of like a checkpoint. I can’t read the alien passcode, but it’s the top left, bottom left, middle, middle left, top right. There might be some other identification needed, though, since I’ve already tried entering it in once.”

So his hunch was correct. 

“And also, if this system ever breaks down, relay your message to Norman. It’ll get to me after a day.”

“You two talk, right? Through letters?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been happening since I first got here. I think, originally, they wanted me to be company for Norman. But apparently, there’s a day’s time gap when delivering our letters, so it’ll reach me late. Unless it’s urgent, though, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Relay his message to Norman, huh . Ray still didn’t completely trust him, but this system would probably work. That made him feel slightly safer. 

“Ah, Ray, our time’s almost up.”

“Huh?”

His heart sank. He’d been hoping to talk more. It was… kind of lonely here, actually. It hadn’t even been a problem for him the last two months, but now that Emma was back, he found himself wanting to talk to her, to savor every moment they had in case she was snatched away again. 

But he bit these thoughts back for her sake. “How are our talks timed, anyway? Is it automatic?”

“I’m being monitored for most of the day, I think for ‘non-invasive tests’ or something, as Norman called them. But, he got out the times of day when they don’t watch me. I’ve been calling you at those times.”

Ray perked up. “You have a clock?”

“Yeah, I asked for one in an exchange. I agreed to participate in one of their experiments if I got a clock.”

Helpful. “A bargaining chip, huh. Can’t they just use force if they denied?”

“I thought that, too. They didn’t answer me, though.” 

“Weird.”

“‘Suspicious’ is what you want to say, right?”

“Aw, you saw right through me.”

Emma laughs at that. “Anyway, I should end this soon. I shouldn’t be cutting it this close, actually. I try to cut off at least two minutes before time up, just in case.”

Ray’s heart felt like a rock. “Well. See ya, Emma.”

“See ya, Ray.”

The receiver cut off with a click . Ray suddenly felt tired. What time was it? Nearly noon? The chess game hadn’t taken that long. He guessed the flurry of emotions from the excursion out the room and his conversation with Emma were hitting him.

Well. A nap couldn’t hurt. 

He relaxes, and his body falls backwards onto the mattress. It’s not nearly as comfortable at the mattresses back at the House, but he’ll get used to it.

See ya, Emma’s voice reverberates in his head. See ya. A promise of another meeting.

Maybe Emma will call again soon, he thinks, as he sinks into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

“Ray!”

He jolts awake. Shit! What’s going on? How long was he asleep? He looks at the tray of slop that had been slid into his room at some point. How had he missed that? The little hatch in the door would’ve made a distinctive hum-click if anything was sent through it, right? God, he was out of it. In the enemy’s territory, too.

He crawls over to the receiver. “‘M here, ‘m here, Emma. I just woke up.”

A relieved sigh sounds through the speaker. “Oh, thank God! I was scared.” 

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m okay. How long do we have?”

“A little under five minutes.”

It wasn’t long enough. No, that was wrong. It was long enough. Ray could definitely communicate crucial information to Emma, even formulate a plan with her, in around five minutes if he had to. It just… wasn’t enough for him emotionally.

It was stupid. He’s gone through too much to even need kid shit like this. But he can’t help but hope for just one more minute with Emma.

No matter. Time to get the important things down. “So, about the escape. How’s it going to work?”

Emma gives an uncertain humm from her side. “Well, even I don’t know the exact details yet. Norman can’t exactly hand them over in our letters… they’re coded, but it’s still a bit risky?”

“Wait, so you don’ t even know the plan? And he does? How do you even trust him!”

An exasperated sigh. “Ray, I’ve told you. Norman’s trustworthy.”

“Pfft. Yeah. I’ll see for myself.”

“I’m serious, Ray. He’s helped me a lot.”

It’s now that Ray remembers that it was Norman who had talked to Emma in the time he had been absent.

Okay, maybe he owed him a little.

…

What now, if they couldn’t talk about an escape plan?

Ray racked the numerous questions bouncing around in his head and started with the most obvious one. 

“What happened when you first got here? Why are they still keeping you if you’re not scoring as high as Norman?”

“Mmmm… well, when I first got here, I was placed in this room. I got Norman’s first letter, I think, maybe two days later? I’m not sure, I didn’t have a clock back then so I couldn’t really keep track. But, basically, we communicated from there. I think, in the beginning, they were about to take me to do a test, but I think the order changed? Because one of them whispered to another one and then I was being dragged to another room. As for why they’re keeping me, I think it’s something to do with Norman. He won’t tell me, though. I think he’s telling them he ‘needs me’ or something. They’d probably listen, too, since he’s such an important experiment.”

Ray is silent for a while. Then, “Are you sure you’re okay, Emma?”

“Of course, Ray! You’re here with me, after all! And I have Norman! Us three together, we’re a team! We’re unbeatable! It’s really not as lonely as you think it is in here.”

“...But Emma. All your friends are back at the farm, waiting to be eaten.”

“...”

“...Are you really sure you’re okay with that?”

The other end of the line is silent for a couple beats. Ray begins to worry, but then…

“Pfft! Ray!”

He’s a bit irritated at that. “W-what?”

“I’m not going to leave them behind! The escape plan, right? We’re going back!”

What? “E-Emma! That’s impossible!”

“Why?”

“You’ll die! Or get caught and die! We don’t know how far away the House is, and even if we did, to take everyone out of there… it’d be too much!”

“It will be! And so what?”

This jerks Ray back. The determination in Emma’s voice is pounding in his ears.

“It will be hard! It will be too much! But I can’t just leave them there! I have to try!”

...It occurs to Ray now just how different he and Emma are. Worlds apart. While he broke down in lieu of Emma’s death, Emma had been holding onto hope, worrying about her family, doing something.  

It… snaps him back.

Emma’s working hard. Hard for him, and for the rest of her family.

...Ray should work hard, too.

For Emma.

“Ah, sorry, I got a little intense, huh?” Emma’s sheepish voice breaks through the speaker again. “But I meant every word I said. I have to save them. There’s no way I won’t.”

Ray smiles softly. He knows Emma can’t see, but he thinks she knows he’s smiling. “I know, Emma.”

There’s a soft silence now, from Emma’s end and Ray’s end. When Emma speaks again, it’s apprehensive and hopeful. “...Well, I’ll see you.”

“See you, Emma.”

The line clicks . 

Ray falls back once more, ready to let sleep claim him. 

Maybe he’ll dream of brighter days, both before and ahead.

Hum-click .

Ray’s eyes flash open.

“Oi! Get up!”

He launches himself out of bed like he had the day before. It still takes him a second to realize that he’s no longer at the House. There’s a tinge of longing under that thought, but no sadness. He’s not upset to have left that place.

The monster is already waiting for him outside the room. Ray pushes himself up and walks out his door. 

As the guard points the weapon and begins closing the door behind him, Ray’s sleep-hazed mind frantically goes over everything that happened yesterday. He met Norman? He played chess. He lost. The smartest one gets tested on. Emma’s being kept for Norman. Her room is right left top left bottom left middle middle left top right.

The hum-click of another door barely registers in his thoughts. Before he knows it, the monster is pushing him along again, this time with Norman? by his side. Ray examines him closer this time.

He doesn’t look at a schemer at all, but he still looks awfully suspicious. The gaunt, defeatist look… it could all just be a ruse. It’s actually almost definitely a ruse, Ray thinks, as he stares at the boy’s quiet smile. He’s smart and obviously knows more than he lets on. Ray can’t exactly give him his full trust yet.

But… if this is Norman, and even if he isn’t, he’d be a valuable source of information in Ray and Emma’s escape. 

He should utilize it.

They’re punted into the same test room they had played chess in the last day. The chess board is still there, scattered pieces as the remnants of their previous game. It hasn’t been touched.

The boy, same as yesterday, stalks his way over the the opposite side of the board, sits down, and begins setting his pieces.

Ray sets off towards his side of the chess board, too, with a new determination. 

He sets up his pieces on his own time today. No competing with the boy. He finishes a couple seconds later, but it’s no matter.

It’s still the same - he sets his last piece down, and the boy moves one of his pawns two steps forward. 

Ray moves one of his pawns too. Click.

The boy moves a knight. Clack.

Ray moves another pawn. Click.

The boy moves a pawn. Clack.

He moves a rook. Click.

The boy moves a knight. Clack.

Ray thinks this is the optimal moment to begin talking. He forces out his first question. “Are they watching us? Click. An innocent enough question

The boy moves his queen. Clack.

Click. Ray is careful not to break the rhythm of the game. Another question is on the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak. 

“No. They were the first time, though,” the boy interrupts. Clack.

He sounds exactly like Ray thought he would. A defeatist. A voice raw from disuse. He wonders if this is what Emma heard a while back, when she heard Norman for the first time.

He feels it safe to ask another question. “Why are we doing this?” Click.

The boy’s eyes glint in a way Ray didn’t think was possible. “Doing what?” Clack.

Is this a joke? Whatever. Ray can deal with this, he’s not some little baby. “Playing chess. In this room. Is it a test?” Click.

Clack. “It was.”

Click. “What is it now?”

Clack. “Mental stimulation. For me.”

The boy is easier to talk to than Ray expected. Conversation comes easily to him, almost as easy as it would come to someone like Emma or Ray, who had been conversing their whole lives. 

This boy… he had experience in socializing? Was Emma not the first of kids to be sent to him? 

He needed conclusions. And right now, the easiest way to get that… 

Click. “Are you Norman-?”

He’s cut off by the pale boy’s finger held up to his mouth in a sush . 

The boy’s eyes are glinting dangerously. There’s a hint of panic in there. “ Shhhh. Don’t mention my name.”

Norman stares into his eyes. Neither of them move.

Until Norman slowly backs off, and moves a piece forward.

Clack.

Ray observes Norman as he picks up one of his pieces. He seemed to have gone completely back to normal in the last couple seconds. His face had resettled into its calm, smiling mask.

Ray moves a piece forward, too. “Why not?” Click.

Clack. He captures one of Ray’s pieces. “It’s dangerous. I’m not supposed to have a name.”

Ray looks at him curiously. So the subjects here are that different from the ones back at his farm, after all. But where’d he get the name Norman from? His mind flashes back to one of his previous thoughts: Emma was not Norman’s first partner. He seemed to have experience socializing?

Had he taken a name from one of the previous subjects sent here? 

The name seemed to be a touchy subject right now, though. He has to gain Norman’s trust. Maybe he shouldn’t bring it up too much for now.

He moves a piece and captures one of Normans, knocking it over triumphantly. Click. “Are you conversing with Emma?”

It might be Ray’s imagination, but he can swear Norman’s smile grows larger, even if just by a margin. Clack. Ray’s piece captured. “Yes. Through letters, I’m sure you’ve heard. I got the letter of your arrival yesterday night.” 

Click. Ray moves a piece. “What kind of testing do they do here?”

Clack. Norman moves a piece. “Oh, nothing for you to worry about. But if you must know, I think blood samples, assorted chemicals, the usual.”

Not pretty, but better than what Ray had expected. “Why is there nothing for me to worry about?” Click.

Clack. “Because they will never perform the experiments on you.”

Click. “Why not?”

Clack. This time, Norman looks directly at him as he puts his piece down. “Because you’ll never beat me at chess.”

And Ray looks down to see that Norman has checkmated him.

He’s learned barely a scrap, but he’s still determined.

He’ll talk to Emma about this later tonight.

Chapter Text

Another day, another chess match with Norman. Norman seems to be upping the speed little by little each day, but Ray’s catching up quickly. Norman moves his first piece and they begin to settle into a steady rhythm. Click, clack, click, clack. Ray looks up for a moment to stare at Norman’s face. His eyes really do look different when he’s playing. Less dead. 

Over the past couple days, he’d been collecting more information from Norman through these chess games. If he’s not going to trust him and Emma with the escape information, then Ray might as well prepare as much as he can to be independent of him. He’d gotten a good deal of info lately.

The additional requirement for the passcodes is a retinal scan. If you try to exchange for the demons, there’s not a one hundred percent chance they’ll refuse, but you shouldn’t use it too often; they don’t like the children having to much power. This farm is indeed for making humans ‘tastier’ and more openly accessible to the demons. There aren’t that many guards in the building, but an escape is still hard with the surveillance cameras. You can’t bargain information from the demons, but there are… other ways to find things out.

He didn’t specify on the “other ways”. Ray was too tired to ask.

He’s a lot more tired than he thought he would be, actually. He thought his feelings of fatigue and lack of motivation were left back at the House. Now, he has a reason to live, a reason to work hard. But even now, sometimes, when the guard yells at him to get up and get out, he wants to lay there and sleep for a long, long time. Maybe because he was tired. Maybe just to see what would happen. 

He shakes off those thoughts when he gets them. Drags himself out of bed even when he doesn’t want to. It wouldn’t do Emma any good if he sulked all day.

And here he is, playing another game of chess with Norman.

He’d never admit to it out loud because he can almost hear Emma’s embarrassing cries of, Oh, Ray, I knew you’d warm up to him eventually! ringing in his ears, but the games with Norman are… pretty fun. Norman’s a better opponent than any of the other kids back at the House. Ray hasn’t even beaten him once.

Today, he’s getting close again. The mess of little plastic figures on the chess board seem to move and swirl to life in front of his eyes.

Yep, he’s getting too into the game.

Norman flashes him a real smile for a split second before his face sinks back into its regular mask. “Well. We’ve been playing this game for exactly six minutes and twenty-eight seconds now, and I know for your next move you’re going to go for my king with the piece you moved three turns ago.”

Impressive. “How did you get there?”

“Well, if you’re asking about your chess move - every person who plays has a certain habit or rhythm they follow. Your’s is pretty easy. You make cautious moves for the most part, but whenever you see a ‘unlikely’ opportunity, you take it to throw your opponent off. Any other person might’ve been fooled by it.”

“If you’re asking about how I got here in terms of intellect?” He waves his hand dramatically as he casually captures Ray’s piece. “I was born like this.”

“Of course you were.” 

“Yes. In all honesty, though, I was. I got a perfect score on their standard IQ test here when I was five. That’s when they began testing on me.”

Ray hadn’t touched the subject of the testing yet, but Norman bringing it up did make him curious. He moves a piece. “Are you okay with it?”

There’s a pause, barely there, but enough for Ray to figure out Norman’s taken back by the question. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it, but if I must choose now, I suppose I am. There’s not much for me here outside of it, right?”

What a depressing way to look at things. That’s exactly your way of looking at things, Ray! Emma’s voice complains in his head. Touché. 

He moves on to his next question. “Are there any other kids here?”

Norman hums thoughtfully. “None that I regularly interact with, outside of you and Emma. Before I turned five, I did a lot of group tests with other kids, but I’ve long forgotten their names.”

“I’m guessing not full-score geniuses like you?”

Norman seems to preen with pride. Ugh. Just like a proud bird or something. “Nope. I’m special.”

Like a parrot Captain Hook would have on his shoulder. No, if it were that analogy, he’d be Captain Hook. Maybe a penguin. No, something more graceful and dangerous. A hawk? No, that prizes sharp eyes over brains. Maybe-

An owl. That was it. Norman was just a really big, proud, annoying owl. 

He stifles a chuckle. 

Ray’s too caught up in the game and the casualness of the conversation. Before he can stop himself, he finds himself asking: “Where’s your name from?”

And that’s when he remembers Norman shushing him, a finger on Ray’s lips and a panicked look in his eyes pleading, please don’t say any more. Ray hasn’t asked directly about his name since then. He’s only dropped hints and tried to manipulate him into answering, but it’s never worked. Norman had always been one step ahead. This time, though…

“Ha. I was wondering when you’d ask another moderately invasive question.”

“...Huh?”

“You always have to ask something rude in these sessions. Like, ‘How do you know we can trust you?’ or Why are you even helping me?’ or “Why do you smile all the time?’. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if you’d even make it before the game ended this time.”

Ray’s face flushes involuntarily. “Hey, they’re legitimate questions.”

“I’m allowed to have a little fun, aren’t I?”

That response made Ray tense up, but he looks up and Norman is still as calm and complacent as ever. But, he does notice… a tenseness around his eyes. Like he’s holding back. 

He’s startled, too, when Norman suddenly slams his piece onto the board. “Check,” he murmurs. 

Then the doors open, and he abruptly gets up and walks away. 

After Norman’s long out the door, Ray’s guard barks at him. “Hey, runt! Hurry up!”

Ray, realizing he’s still sitting, hurriedly gets up and walks to the guard in a fast gait. 

By the time he’s out in the hallway, he can’t see Norman anymore. Already gone to God knows where.

He’ll refrain from mentioning Norman’s name next time. 

Click. “Ray.”

Ray’s heart fills with relief. “Emma.”

“Hey. How are you today?”

“Good. The usual. I played chess with Norman.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He was being cheeky again. And he’s still not comfortable with the name thing.”

“Hmm… maybe it’s because no one’s ever asked? I mean, I never questioned his name. I just assumed he always had it. I mean, he probably has. We have. And back at the Hou- the farm, we never asked where each others’ names came from.”

“Of course we didn’t. It was an orphanage. Obviously the caretaker named us.”

It obviously was not an orphanage and, in truth, Ray really didn’t know if it was Isabella who’d named them, but the gist was there.

“Pfft. Yeah, yeah. It’s just not something you’d interrogate on, right?”

Ray’s tired, bone tired, but not tired enough to miss the lack of a spark in Emma’s voice.

“Emma.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Haha, why are you even asking?”

“You sound upset.”

“Do I?!”

“Yeah.”

The seriousness in his voice shuts her up. The room is quiet. Then…

“...Okay, Ray. You have to promise not to worry about me.”

“That’s a stupid thing to make me promise!”

“Fine, fine, I mean like… you have to promise to trust me. That I’ll be okay.”

“...What happened.”

“They’re going to experiment on me tomorrow, Ray. They took me in today to draw blood and stuff. Apparently they got tired of having me sit around and write letters to Norman, haha.”

Ray’s blood is cold. His hands are cold. In fact, his entire body feels like it’s just been iced. His heart is probably pounding, but he can’t hear it over the string of they’re gonna experiment on Emma tomorrow in his head.

Norman. The fucking liar. Didn’t he say that they’d never perform experiments on them ? That they weren’t smart enough, weren’t optimal enough for the experiments? Because you’ll never beat me at chess. Norman’s arrogant words had only vaguely irked him back then, but now they’re a spike in his chest. 

“Emma. There is nothing remotely funny about this.”

“Sorry. Coping mechanism, I guess.”

“...Emma. Isn’t there anything Norman can do? Send him a letter tonight.”

“It’s no use. It wouldn’t reach him until tomorrow. Besides, I wouldn’t tell him anyway.”

Ray nearly yells into the receiver. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to burden him further, Ray.”

Ray grabs the receiver. Careful, his mind warns, you could break it. He ignores that thought. “Emma,” he says, voice low and controlled. “He’s already being experimented on. How further could he possibly be burdened?!”

“He’d do anything for me, Ray, and I know that. Once I sent him a letter saying I’d do anything for better food and he sent back a letter saying that he could arrange that. And I asked him what it’d cost, and he said, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Ray, I’m not ask smart as you or him, but I’m not stupid. I know when someone’s about to get into something reckless.”

Ray’s eyes grow wider and more desperate. His heart pounds louder and louder in his head. It hurts. “Emma, what you’re about to do is reckless. They’re going to experiment on you. You don’t even know what’s going to happen. I-”

“Ray.” Her voice is resolute. Ray shuts up. They’ve both always had the skill of getting the other to listen. Now is no different.

“I’m going to do it. I don’t want any more burden on Norman. I don’t want any more on you, either. I’ve made sure you’re going to be safe already. Just let me do this.”

“Emma…” One last pleading voice. One last call.

“You’re my family, Ray. I have to.” 

And Emma walks out the two wide double doors of the House, never to be seen again. 

No. No. 

He couldn’t stand it if he lost her again.

“Ray. Our time’s up.”

Say something. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

Don’t leave. Ray, you stupid fuck , say something!”

“...See ya-”

Move your mouth and SPEAK dammit use your head what’s the point of HAVING that head if you don’t use it in the most CRUCIAL MOMENTS-

“-Ray.”

Click.

Ray stares. And stares. And stares.

His head trembles as he shakes it, back and forth, back and forth. “No, no, no no-” he whispers. He grabs the receiver. There’s no way this is one-way. There has to be some kind of command that’ll let him get back to Emma. There has to be a way to save her.

And why would you think there is a way? His head snears at him. Because there’s a receiver now? Boy, you’re back at the House. Emma has just walked through the door. Can you still call her back? 

Of course he can, because what is he if he can’t-

A worthless friend, a worthless brother-

He’s failed twice-

You have to promise me to trust me, Emma’s voice reverberates in his head, a gentle melody. That I’ll be okay. 

That’s right, that’s right. He had to… he had to… 

He has to believe she’s going to be okay. Because he isn’t going to live if she isn’t. 

It’s a steady mantra in his head, trust her, trust her, trust her, that he listens to as he situates himself in his bed absentmindedly. He falls asleep to it. 

If the mantra will keep the silence and the bad thoughts out, he’ll repeat it a million times over. 

If the mantra will keep Emma safe…

Chapter Text

Hum-click.

Ray wakes up and thinks he shouldn’t get up. He tries to think of reasons to.

A chess game with Norman, talking to Emma, helping Emma by coming up with an escape plan, Emma is going to be experimented on.

It’s with that that he launches himself out of bed. 

Trust her, trust her, trust her, Ray! His head repeats. 

He… 

Last night. He believed he could trust her. He wanted to trust her.

It’s now, with desperation and dread still swarming in his body, that he realizes he can’t.

Emma asks what kind of family she would be if she didn’t keep Ray safe by doing the experiments. Well, what kind of family would Ray be if he just let her go like that?

He has to get to Norman. Even if it’s too late to do anything by now, Norman still should know. He’s intelligent. He knows how to get around the demons. He cares? about Emma. He can help. 

Ray’s whole body is shivering as they walk him to Norman’s room. He breathes, in, out, in, out. He can’t let them see his weakness. 

Hum-click. Norman steps out next to him, and the demon pushes them to the room.

The door shuts behind them. Ray’s hands are still shaking.

Norman calmly makes his way to the chess board as he always does. Ray tries to, but the pounding of his heart and the whirlpool that are his thoughts today make it a bit hard.

Still, he sways over and slumps down across from Norman. Norman’s already begun setting his pieces. Ray follows.

He’s barely set three pieces, though, when he stops. And speaks. “Emma’s going to be experimented on tomorrow.

Norman continues to set his pieces.

Ray can feel panic rising. Why isn’t he responding why isn’t he responding why isn’t he responding? He repeats himself. “Emma’s going to be experimented on tomorrow.”

Norman keeps setting, click, click, click. 

Now he’s desperate. Norman’s his last hope and maybe he could do something to save Emma so why isn’t he answering?

His panic turns into anger in a split second. Why isn’t he answering, why isn’t he answering? ‘Oh, he’d do anything for me’ my ass. Why isn’t he answering? He doesn’t even care about Emma. Why isn’t he answering? 

Norman cooly sets his last piece. 

He wants to scream. “Oi-”

“Set your pieces.”

Norman’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Ray hears it. 

Set your pieces.

Set my pieces. Set my pieces. Set my pieces, set my pieces, set my pieces setmypieces- how can I set my pieces in this situation?

Ray’s voice wants to come out as a snarl, but instead it just sounds pathetic. His voice cracks. “Excuse me?”

Neither of them makes means to move. Ray speaks again. “Excuse me? How can I-”

And then Norman’s head snaps up. Crazed, frantic eyes meet his. 

“Set your pieces so I can get this fucking game over with.” 

They sit like that, staring at each other.

And then, Ray deflates.

What were you thinking, what were you thinking. Norman’s on your side. He’s with Emma. You lost your cool, quickly, finish the game. 

And so he continues to set his pieces.

The second he sets his last pawn down, Norman moves.

For the rest of the game, Ray makes his movements as predictable as possible. Norman controls the game, ending it fast. 

Ray gets checked, and sure enough, moments later, the door opens ( hum-click ) and Norman gets up with controlled movements and briskly walks out the door. 

Some while later, Ray’s guard calls. He automatically gets up and walks out the room. 

His mind is still focused on the image of Norman. He will help Emma. He cares about Emma. You have to believe he will help Emma. 

Ray had just placed all just trust in Norman’s hands. The minute he complied and resumed setting his pieces - no, even before that. He’d woken up this morning with his head screaming find Norman, find Norman and it had been all he’d thought about since then.

Maybe… maybe even before that. When he had failed to save Emma last night. 

The receiver clicked, and Ray felt himself shatter-

Trust Norman. Rely on Norman.

Silly Ray, his head snears. Of course you need to rely on Norman. You’ve already failed twice. 

The voice sounds suspiciously like his Mama. Ray flinches at himself. 

Useless, useless, useless.

The guard pushes him back into his room, but Ray barely notices. He can’t focus, he can’t focus, and before he knows it he’s collapsed onto his bed face-first. 

He wants to cry. He wants to bawl his eyes out like he’s a baby. But he can’t, there aren’t any tears and Ray had barely cried as a baby and he’d only cried once after he turned six, and he’d cried no times after Emma left. 

Has he lost the ability?

It makes him unnaturally upset, that bit. He wants to cry. Humans cry all the time. Does his lack of tears make him inhuman?

He wants to be human. He wants to be human and free and living on a plain in a big house with friends or even just one friend, Emma is enough but that childhood dream is even further now because of him. Because he failed to save Emma. 

Trust her. Trust him. It’s all you can do now. 

He could never do anything, could he?

And endless cycle of trust him, trust her makes a racket in his head. A marching band of self-deprecation drums, pounding and pounding and the music sounds suspiciously alike to a song Mama used to hum-

He falls asleep somewhere in the middle of it, a reprieve for his drained body.

He can hear the doors open. He drags himself up. His first thought is Emma. 

I need to know what happened to Emma. 

He haphazardly sways out the door. It’s only when they arrive at the testing room that he realizes they walked right past Norman’s door. 

He’s thrown in and the door shuts behind him. Before he knows it, he’s alone.

What? 

Why was he in this room alone? Was it some kind of test? 

Did something happen to Norman? What happened with Emma? What happened with both of them? 

The chess board is still in the remnants of their last game. Dazed, Ray makes his way over and sits himself down on his side.

What do they expect him to do here? Play with himself?

There’s nothing you can do. 

He’s so tired. He’s pretty sure he couldn’t play even if he wanted to. His arms hang dead on his lap. 

He stares at the board. His foggy mind begins to mimic a game. He sees the pieces move. 

The thumping of his heart grows louder in his ears. He doesn’t know what’s happening.

He doesn’t even know how much time passes when the door behind him finally opens with a hum-click . He hears a figure stumble in.

Norman walks into his peripheral vision. Ray can see him swaying. 

With an effort, he sits himself down across from Ray. His whole body is unsteady.

He begins to set his pieces. Ray does the same.

He’s set his last pawn when he looks across from him and realizes Norman’s not done setting his pieces yet. 

It’s the first time he’s set faster. 

He can tell Norman has the same thought, because a ghost of a real smile flashes across Norman’s lips. 

Norman finishes setting his pieces, and Ray moves first. 

Another first .

They’re halfway into the chess game, a steady rhythm established, when Ray knows he needs answers. He’ll explode if he waits any longer. “Is Emma safe?” Click. 

Clack. A quiet voice. “Yes, she is.”

Click. “...Did they get to her?

No answer. 

So he claims she’s safe and won’t tell me crucial information.

Whatever. Ray needs to trust him. He asks another question. “How did you ensure her safety?” Click.

Clack. “I made a bargain.” 

Click. “With what?”

Clack. “Nothing much.”

They play in the silence for a while together. Ray still needs answers. So, 

“Norman-”

He’s interrupted by a loud, wet cough.

He blinks. The chess board is sprayed in blood.

He’s too tired to look up. Too tired? Or too scared?

He forces himself to. He doesn’t know why. 

He’s met with Norman’s smiling face, his mouth painted with blood. 

Norman speaks. When he does, his voice is hoarse and strained. “Emma is just fine, Ray.”

Ray stares at Norman. He glances back down at the chess board, then back to Norman, then back to the chess. There’s something surreal about these images: a young smiling boy bleeding from his mouth, the harsh red contrasted against his pale complexture - a tiny plastic chess board splattered with crimson.

Emma is just fine, Ray. It’s Norman’s plead (command?) to leave it alone. 

Ray almost wants to ask. He doesn’t. 

So he sinks back into the chess game and moves a piece forward.

Norman doesn’t breath a sigh of relief, but the tension draining out of his face is enough to tell Ray that he’s grateful.

Norman checks him two moves later. He clumsily gets up and staggers out of the room.

Ray is left wondering what in the world happened.

Chapter Text

They don’t walk towards his room. In fact, they walk in the opposite direction.

Ray doesn’t even notice this until he sees his guard punch in entirely different passcodes on the door.

It opens as usual, and Ray is shoved in. 

And the first thing he sees is a lock of bright orange hair. 

His eyes focus on the figure in front of him. Green eyes and the telltale 63194 stamped on her neck.

It’s Emma. 

She’s alive. 

Emma gives Ray a smile, a radiant, brilliant, warm smile, and opens her mouth to speak. She hasn’t even gotten a word out, though, when Ray barrels into her and tackles her straight onto her bed.

She laughs, jubilant and alive. Ray chuckles above her. His chuckles grow louder. And louder. And before he knows it, he’s full on cackling like Emma is. 

Before he knows it, Emma’s wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Her face is red and breathless.

Ray’s still laughing, he’s laughing so hard it hurts, but he manages to sputter out, “W- wha- how-?”

Emma’s laughing just as hard as he is. It takes longer for her to reign herself in, but when she does, she says, “Next time you meet Norman, you better give him a hug just as big as ours!”

He’d done it. He’d really done it.

He can’t bring himself to think about everything that means right now. Right now, all he wants to do is laugh and hug Emma and remain in this feeling forever. 

Norman’s bloody face- He pushes the thought back. 

He looks at Emma. There are tears streaking down her face.

She’s crying.

It hits Ray all at once, that this is the first time he’s seen Emma since she’d walked out that door two (two? It was nearly three now) long months ago.

Norman’s bloody face, smiling down at him- Stop.

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this, not while Emma’s crying, not while he wants to cry but can’t and Norman’s smiling, red-stained face keeps flashing in his mind.

Emma seems to notice something wrong. “Ray…?” 

She crawls forward and lifts Ray’s bangs up to see his face.

There’s something wrong with this scene. Ray knows how it’s supposed to go. She lifts the bangs to see happy tears rolling down his cheeks, and they hug and make up. 

But that’s the problem. There are no tears. And for some reason, he’s not happy. 

And that’s the last straw on top of the pile. Norman’s bloody face is still pressing on the back of his mind and he can’t afford to be sad in his reunion with Emma and he can’t even cry because he’s a mess of a human being.

“Ray!”

Emma’s voice cuts through his haze of thoughts. His head snaps up.

Emma is looking at him with that determined trademark Emma look on her face. “Ray! Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop it! I’m here now, alright!”

She gives him a dramatic thumbs up. “As long as we’re together, we can do anything!”

Ray just stares at her. And then promptly breaks out into laugher.

Emma’s face lights up red. “W-what!”

“You make it sound like we’re kids again!”

“What do you mean?”

“You said it so dramatically! Like when we were little and we were two tiny kids and we thought we could take on the world.” 

“We are still little, Ray! And I still think we can take on the world.”

Ah. That’s his Emma. 

And then he remembers Norman’s silence earlier, in their match.

Oh my God. She could still be hurt. 

He instantly scrambles up to get a closer look.  “Wait, Emma, are you okay? Did they do anything do you?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine! But…”

Panic seizes Ray. “What?”

Emma gives Ray a sad attempt at a smile. “I’d… uh… rather not talk about it right now.”

Ray breathes a sigh of relief. Then, he instantly takes it back. A barrage of protests flood his head.

Why are you relieved? Emma won’t tell you what happened! That means it’s bad! She’s traumatized! 

Were you just glad to have the conversation end? Were you scared? Or did you just not want to keep talking about such a stressful topic?

Oi, Emma’s definitely got it a lot worse than you! Why should your stress matter at all? 

“Ray, you’re overthinking it.”

Ray blinks. He shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” 

Ray lets out a huff. “When did you become so mature?”

She laughs. It’s quiet and sweet. “I had a lot of time to think.”

There’s not much else for Ray to say. Or there might be too much for him to say. He doesn’t know. So he leans himself against Emma and closes his eyes.

It might be the nicest sleep he’s had in a while.

Chapter Text

“Oi, runt!” 

Ray pushes himself up. His eyes catch a mess of orange curls beside him. 

Emma. 

Yesterday… yesterday was a lot. 

As he gets up, he takes a moment to let the new room sink in. It’s bigger. There’s no familiar receiver on the wall, either, and there’s a bunk bed for him and Emma to share. 

He gives Emma one last look as he hurries out the door. She’s groggily getting up from the bed.

Ray almost smiles. He walks out and the door closes behind him.

And then dread punches him in the gut.

He’s going to have to see Norman. What was he even going to say to him today? Hey, Norman. Thank you for saving Emma and reuniting us. Let’s keep playing chess. Anyway, what was that blood all about? 

He’s given no more time to think, though. Before he knows it, the guard is punching in the passcode at Norman’s door.

Crap. 

He half expects Norman to walk out with blood all over his face.

After a beat, though, Norman emerges, clean, blood-free faced and all. He still has the same subtle smile resting on his face. His eyes are still hollow and complacent. It’s like nothing ever happened at all.

That’s what makes Ray nervous, though. 

They’re shoved into the testing room together. Norman catches himself before he stumbles and makes his way to the chess board. It’s still covered in blood.

I guess he couldn’t clean that up.

It’s slightly ominous, Ray supposes, Norman’s easy smile and the bloody chess board in front of him, but he makes his way towards them regardless.

He sits down. Norman sets his pieces. He sets his.

Norman finishes setting first, and makes a move. He makes his.

They’re barely three moves into the game. Ray hasn’t even had time to ask any questions. Norman speaks up. 

“I’m filling you two in on the escape plan.”

Ray freezes. “What.”

Norman narrows his eyes slightly. “Make your move, please.”

Ray does.

Norman continues. “There’s no time. You’re running out of time. I have to get you guys out of here as soon as possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep their hands off you for long.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why aren’t you helping yourself escape?” You have the brains for it. You have the means to it. Why help us? You barely know us. 

“There’s not much for me outside of testing.”

Ray can sense tension in his words. “That’s a lie, isn’t it.”

“How would you know?”

“Then tell me it’s the truth. Tell me that you really believe there’s nothing for you outside of this lab.”

Norman nearly slams down a chess piece. “And why do you care?” About me. Why do you care about me. I’m just an intelligent stranger who helped you out a couple times. 

“Emma cares about you.”

“Great. So this isn’t- this isn’t- stop, stop. I can’t mess this up.”

This catches Ray’s attention. So he’s talking to himself now?

“What? This isn’t what?”

Norman breathes, and he’s back to calm in a second. “Nothing.”

“I thought you were finally going to open up to us.”

“About the escape plan, yes.”

“What else are you hiding?”

“Does it matter?”

“For me to trust you.” 

Norman shakes his head almost desperately. “No, it doesn’t. Just listen to my plan and get out of here.”

“How do we know you aren’t leading us into a trap?”

Norman’s back to crazed. He shakes his head again. “I’m not.” 

“Prove it.”

Norman stops moving. 

Ray feels he might have pushed too far.

A kind of choked noise begins to bubble from Norman’s throat. As it grows louder, Ray realizes it’s laughter. Within mere seconds, Norman is laughing.

He then snaps his head down. His breathing is heavy. “Ray, you really are insufferable, you know that.”

Norman’s never been like this before. Norman’s never laughed before. Oh God, Norman’s finally cracked. What is he going to do.

“Ray. Listen to me. I’m the smartest out of us three. When I see a problem, I know the answer. I’m a prodigy. That’s why they started testing on me so early. That’s why they’ve tested on me so many times.” 

Ray can see where this is going.

“Emma’s smart, too. If she encounters a problem, she can figure it out through examining the different paths and choosing one. She’ll pick the path she views is correct.”

Shut up. Shut up. 

“And you, Ray? What do you have? You’ve spent your whole life reading books on science and machinery, but what would you be without those? Shipped out at age six, perhaps.” 

“You’re the least intelligent out of all of us. That’s why I ask you to shut up and listen.”

Ray knows this about himself. He’s known this about himself since he was six.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

That if he were better, he could have saved Emma. If he were better, he could have saved everyone. 

Is this really it? Due to his own incompetence, he has to escape relying on someone else’s escape plan? The someone in question not even escaping with them in the end? 

Despite all this, though, he doesn’t want to listen to Norman. 

Norman’s still given him no reason to trust him. 

You don’t have a choice. You have to trust him.

Emma would say that there’s always another way.

Emma would trust him. 

Ray moves his piece. “Alright. Tell me about your plan.”

Norman’s whole body slumps. And he begins.

Ray listens intently, but his heart really isn’t there.

Chapter Text

“Emma. Here’s the plan. We go during Norman’s morning testing two days from now. Tomorrow, when I meet up with Norman, he’s going to give me a machine he makes that mimics the retina of a demon and gets us past the passworded doors. The way out is north, but since we don’t have a compass, the direction where you can hear the other subjects is the correct way. There are other passages, but the most discreet one would be straight down the corridor, a left, and then a right. When we get outside, there’ll be a forest, but if we keep going in one direction and don’t get turned around we’ll arrive at an abandoned hideout in a tree. He says we’ll know it when we see it.”

Ray pauses and waits for Emma to respond. She says exactly what he thought she would say. 

“What about Norman?” 

Norman had discussed this with him, too. Tell her I’m going to escape after you two, he had said. I’m smart enough for her to believe it, right? 

She’s not stupid, Ray wanted to say, but Norman seemed so adamant on not letting her know that he finally relented. 

So he answers Emma how Norman wanted him to. “He’s going to escape after us. His testing is the most optimal time for us dummies to escape, but for a prodigy like him, any time should be no problem.”

Emma still looks unconvinced. “Then why hasn’t he escaped by now?”

Ray shrugs. Tries to look as casual as possible. “Waiting for us, maybe?”

Emma’s face is scrunched up in thought. “Then, what about tracking? Shouldn’t they have a device planted in us to prevent their most valuable merchandise from running off?”

Ray has an answer for this, too. “There are trackers in our left earlobes. Norman says he has a way to disable them, but if it comes to it, we can cut our ears off.”

“Cut our ears off?! You’re kidding!” 

“Nope. One-hundred percent serious.”

For some reason, Emma’s face falls. “Still, though… will Norman really be okay?”

They’re silent for a while. It’s awkward. Ray decides to break it. He leans forward and flicks her nose.

Emma recoils. “Hey!”

“Of course he’ll be okay. He’s indestructible, to be able to go through testing every day and come out okay. On top of that, he’s smarter than the two of us combined. It’ll be okay.” 

Her eyes soften. There’s a look in them, a look Ray thought was only reserved for him and the other kids at Gracefield. “Yeah. I hope so.”

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t ask questions, runt.”

Alright, unfriendly. Ray lets himself get herded by the guard. He goes right past their usual testing room. Before he knows it, he’s being pushed right through Norman’s door.

Ray whips his head around to see the door close behind him.

He’s locked. In Norman’s room.

Why? Where was Norman? Why weren’t they doing their usual testing?

Could they have caught up to their plan? 

Don’t panic, don’t panic. Just wait it out. Norman’s probably delayed or something. They won’t keep you in here for long. 

So you’re just going to do nothing? As always, Ray is a sitting duck. 

He wished he would stop hearing Mama’s voice in his head. 

Should he look around? There wouldn’t be much to see, anyway. He doubted Norman had any personal belongings.

Wait, he had the retinal scan machine. Would it be suspicious if Ray looked for that? 

Norman might have a bunch of other things stashed up from living his whole life here, too. It was a long shot, but did it really hurt to look?

Stay put. Don’t pull anything.

Look for information. Do something.

He couldn’t sit still. Every cell in his body jittered and ached for him to move. Eventually, the second option won out. Ray pulls himself off the ground and takes a long look around the bedroom.

It looks just like his first room, minus the receiver. White cot, white walls, a sink, a toilet, a push-up table. 

If he were Norman, where would he hide something? 

A dumb thing to think. It would be suspicious if any walls were torn open, and the only other place where you could stuff hidden belongings was under the cot.

Ray looks under it.

There’s a pile of bolts and cut wires under it, something nearly resembling a machine. Ray can’t tell if that’s the retinal one or the tracker-breaking one.

His eyes slowly move to something next to the machine, though.

A small spiral notebook. It looks old.

Ray reaches under the bed and pulls it out.

He opens it to the first page. 

There’s a date. 

May 2038. 

Assuming Norman is the same age as them, he’d be four…? 

But that thought is over in a second when Ray sees the contents of the page.

A drawing. Of… them?

Norman, Emma, and Ray. All lined up on a field. There’s a large cartoon sun in the top right corner.

It’s a messy drawing, but it’s clearly them. Emma’s hair is bright orange, and there’s her signature antenna on top of her head. The left side of Ray’s face is covered with his bangs. And Norman… that’s no doubt Norman. The white hair and blue eyes. He even drew his own smile. 

The date. The date was when Norman was four.

They didn’t know him back then. 

Is this a prank? Maybe Norman drew it not long ago, and wrote the date as a prank.

But the pages are old and weathered. The colorful crayon stains the backside of the previous page.

That means nothing, Ray. 

His mind still wanders, though. Did they forget Norman? Did they somehow know Norman, and have their memories wiped? With the technology available so far, Ray wouldn’t be surprised. Who knows what the demons can do.

He turns the page. It’s blank. He turns again, and there’s another drawing.

Emma, Ray, and Norman sit at a long table. There are other children there, too. A dark-skinned boy with bright blue eyes- is that Phil? 

He flips the page. Another picture of Emma, Ray, and Norman.

Flip. Norman chasing Emma and Ray through a forest.

Flip. Norman in bed, holding… a cup to his ear. Emma is holding the other end. Ray is leaning against the door.

The drawings are getting better in quality. Ray flips the page again.

It’s another drawing of Emma, Ray, and Norman, but Norman’s face looks more distorted than his and Emma’s. The smile is a bit too wide, and the eyes look like someone pressed a crayon down so hard that it would leave imprints throughout the rest of the book.

He flips the page. Another drawing of them. Norman’s face is bleeding.

Flip. There’s an X angrily drawn over Norman’s face.

Flip. Norman’s face seems to have been crossed out harshly in black crayon. 

Fli-

Hum-click. 

The voice from behind him is cold. There’s not even a hint of playfulness, or apathy, or amusement.

“Get away from the book.”

Chapter Text

Ray doesn’t respond. 

Norman’s voice is desperate. His voice is shaky and broken when he repeats himself. “Please. Get away from the book.” 

Ray tenses. He’s never heard Norman like this before.

Still, all this does is make him want to hold on to the book tighter. He doesn’t want to let go. The book feels like a part of him that he just recovered. He isn’t ready to give it up. 

He thinks of the first Norman, on the first page of the book, standing next to him and Emma in a sunny field. He thinks he can almost see it. The real memory, and not just the scribbled crayon drawing in the old notebook. 

That Norman was so different. So full of determination. Brimming with will and intelligence and happiness.

But how would you know, Ray?

It’s at this moment that he feels Norman ramming into him. 

He clutches the notebook tighter.

Norman grabs his shoulder, hard. If Ray’s mind were running per usual, he’d think that would leave a nasty bruise. Right now, though, what’s on his mind is the book. 

The book that Norman, with every bit of desperation, seems to be trying to take from him.

He kicks at Norman. Norman knees him in the chest, and gets down close right next to his ear. “Give me the notebook.”

And Ray, in his adrenaline-muddled brain, still somehow has the time for wit. “And why should I give it to you?”

Norman clutches Ray’s wrist so hard he loses feeling in his hands. It’s like Norman’s sucking, sucking, sucking the sense out of him.

 “Because I’ll kill you.”

Ray stares at Norman and cold, empty eyes stare back.

Andthe notebook gets snatched out of Ray’s numb hands.

Norman slowly gets up and backs off, as if he’s scared that Ray will steal the book back from him. “We’re not playing chess today. There was a mixup. Go back to your own room.”

Ray can feel himself heat up with anger. It’s so unreasonable, and he knows it. He needs to calmly assess the situation before someone ( Emma) gets hurt. Norman hides things from him all the time. Getting mad won’t help anyone.

He can’t help it, though, seeing those characters in the book and Norman not even giving him an afterword on it, only pretending that nothing happened. It’s like he’s disregarding something important to Ray

What’s important to Ray? Norman’s not important to Ray. He’s only a chess partner and an accomplice in their escape. Emma? But he wouldn’t get so needlessly mad over a drawing. Himself? He’s important in assisting Emma, but what else?

In assisting Emma ? Just Emma? Is he missing someone?

He needs to know. He needs to know more. He needs to know enough. He opens his mouth. “What were those drawings about?”

Norman doesn’t answer for a very long time. When he does, his voice is still cracked like it was before, however much he tries to hide it. “Nothing. And even if they were about something, that question isn’t specific enough.”

Is that an invitation to ask more? “When did you draw those?”

Norman’s voice comes out more composed this time. “A couple days ago. It was a prank.”

Ray can’t hold his retort back. “That you desperately didn’t want us to see?”

“A private prank. Those exist, yes?”

“Why are you hiding this from us?”

“What am I hiding? And it’s not like this is the first time.”

“Stop giving me lead-ins and then shutting them down. Do you want me to know more or not?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then why are you going back and forth with me here? Just shut me down already!”

“I want to give you the guise of having learned something while having learned nothing at all.”

Ray snorts. He can’t help it. “Of course you do.”

“And why are you so concerned?”

“That had something to do with me.” And Emma. 

“And you care about yourself?”

“I-”

I care about-

I care-

The notebook is the missing piece of a puzzle. The problem is that he doesn’t even know what the puzzle is.

So he pushes himself up, bruised wrist and purple hands and all. “What I care about is nostalgia, I suppose. I’m getting old.” The last bit is said with a sarcastic bite. Let it be known to Norman he’s still pissed.

Norman lets him get up and walk to the door. Ray knocks on it. “So, how do I get out of here?”

“Just wait for a bit. They’ll come back.”

That didn’t make sense at all, but Ray didn’t have enough energy to decipher it. No, no, focus, get the energy. This could endanger you. 

The notebook still hovers in his mind. He takes it upon himself to ask Norman one last question. “And the escape plan?”

His heart was unprepared for the answer. It skipped a beat when Norman, the cautious Norman, the sure-of-himself genius Norman, responded, “Carry it on without me tomorrow.”

“You know what to do.”

Do I?

Chapter Text

Ray was in a frenzy.

Norman, the lying bastard. You know what to do. He really didn’t. He’d taken the retinal scanner before leaving Norman’s room, but it was a bit more complex than Ray had thought it would be. Norman’s knowledge really did surpass his.

But furthermore, now that he knew he wasn’t meeting with Norman again the next morning, he had to think of the rest of the plan by himself. What’s the most efficient escape route? When should we escape? How are we going to cut our ears off? 

And what did he even mean, to carry out the plan without him? Was there a reason? Why had he been sent to Norman’s room yesterday?

In truth, this shouldn’t even have been that much different for Ray. Norman wasn’t going to be escaping with them, just giving him a few pointers before they left. Still, though, having everything left to himself, it was scary.

And then there was the matter of the notebook.

The pictures of him and Emma and Norman. It hurt his heart looking at them, even just thinking about them. It felt like missing a past he never had. He didn’t get it.

He thinks of the little caricatures of him and Emma on the page. Emma’s trademark orange hair, the antenna curling at the top, and he somehow even got her smile right. Ray, standing there, a shock of black covering his left eye. A devious grin resting on his face.

And Norman and his gentle, knowing smile, there all the while like he belonged there. Like he belonged with them.

Ray would have believed it if he didn’t, you know, remember that he had never seen Norman before some months ago.

And still..

Ray scowled. It was no good thinking about that now. Especially when they would be gone tomorrow morning.

But don’t you want to know? The voice doesn’t sound quite like Mama this time. Aren’t you curious? This is a mystery that particularly pertains to you and your very best friend. And would you really be satisfied if you left without knowing?

I’d be satisfied if I could live free by tomorrow, Ray thinks, but he can’t help but feel swayed by the voice in his head.

He needs to talk to someone else about this. If he gets trapped in his own head, he’ll overthink it and combust,

Does he really want to drag Emma into this, though? 

But knowing Emma, she’d definitely want to know this. I shouldn’t keep secrets from her.

He’s still thinking about this, fiddling with the retinal scanner, when suddenly, Emma speaks up.

“Hey, Ray.”

His heart thumps in his chest. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he still tries to calm himself down before he answers. “Yes?”

“Are we really escaping tomorrow?”

Ray pauses a bit, wondering how he shouldn’t answer that. “Yeah. Why?”

“I dunno. It feels like we’re leaving something behind, though.”

That was it. The perfect segue. Ray’s chance to pipe up about the notebook and the drawings and Norman.

But he doesn’t. His throat is dry and his mouth won’t move.

They sit in silence after that. 

“Oi! Runt!” 

Ray leaps out of bed. That’s their cue.

He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, spending his time thinking of escape strategies. If he assumed correctly, the guard was about to take him to either the testing room or Norman’s room.

There was no way they could take down the demon. He had thought about that point long and hard before a suspiciously Emma-esque thought had popped up in his head and said, “Just run, like in tag!” 

It was a stupid plan, but Ray might as well believe in it. Their lives are staked on this, after all.

The demon opens the door. Ray surveys the area outside the door from what he can already see. If he got out the door, and the demon was preoccupied with him, before the door closed, Emma could…

He walks out the door, and, before he’s out, holds up a peace sign for Emma. A signal.

And a blur of orange dashes by him.

“Hey, wait!” The demon is about to run after Emma when Ray makes a break for it, too. He doesn’t even have to fight, just slips out from the demon’s range and runs.

Frantically, he skids to a stop at a locked door and inputs the passcode. Then, he points part of the retinal scanner at a sensor near the keypad.

It opens. Ray runs through.

A knife, a knife. Now we need a knife. There wouldn’t be any within reach, but if Ray could get to one of the rooms with the wailing…

It was a gamble, but it was better than getting out and getting caught.

He winds down a bunch of corridors, and the wailing gets louder and louder as he goes along. He sees Emma run up beside him.

“Ray! What now?”

“Follow me! We’re going to find a knife.”

“Wait, a knife? I got it!”

She winds a corner in a separate direction. Ray grimaces. “Emma-!” 

Emma is at another room, attempting to open the door. “I got tested on in this room earlier, Ray. They’ve got knifes, scalpels, all the stuff we read about in the doctor-y books back at the House.”

She steps back. “Quick, use your demon eye thingy!”

Ray is barely processing everyone she’s saying, but he complies. The door opens with the hum - click.

Ray steps inside. There are knives. He grabs two sharp-looking ones and some gauze, and turns back.

Emma hasn’t stepped a foot inside the room. Her eyes are full of hard determination, but Ray can also see… fear. Apprehension. She’s scared of this room.

There’s no time for Ray to get mad, but he marks this topic for later. He’s going to have to comfort Emma once they get out of here.

He runs out of the room and holds out a knife for Emma. He hopes these are clean. “Quick, get your left ear!”

She doesn’t move. Seconds pass. It seems like a lot more in Ray’s panicked mind. “Emma, what are you doing-“

“Norman isn’t coming, is he.”

Oh, come on, not now, not now. Ray blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “And you’re going to let his hard work be in vain?”

Emma suddenly whips her head up to look directly at Ray. Her eyes are shiny. She’s almost to tears. 

“Ray, we have to get out of here together. The three of us. We can’t leave him.”

Time is ticking, Ray, Mama cheerfully reminds in his head. Ray thrusts the knife forward once more. “Emma, we’re running out of time.”

“But, Ray-“

Stop this, stop this, Emma. Your big heart has always been your big flaw. Please, just once, just this once, leave someone behind.

He knows how he must look right now. Bloodshot, panicked eyes and a desperate demeanor. He puts the knife in her hands. “Please. Emma.”

This is all for you. I have no one else. 

You do have someone else.

No, no, I don’t. Emma, please, it’s all for you.

No, you do. You do-

He doesn’t finish that thought. 

Before he knows it, there’s the cold metal of a lance to his neck and a familiar voice ringing in his ears. 

Oi, runt.

You’ve failed. 

Chapter Text

Ray is so, so confused.

Or, more accurately, he’s in a daze. He’s been in a daze for the past… three days? He’s lost count.

He’s back in his old cell now, separate from Emma. There’s still a receiver on the wall, but something tells Ray it doesn’t work anymore. He’s not optimistic.

He doesn’t know how Emma is. She has to be okay, obviously, because he’d rather not let his mind wander to a situation where she is not okay. After everything, Ray doesn’t think he can take it. 

He hasn’t heard from Norman, though. For all he knows, the bastard could be dead. He wasn’t in good shape the last time Ray saw him.

The last time ray saw him… no, he won’t let himself think about that either. In fact, best if he doesn’t think at all. That was their last chance at escape, and they messed it up.

Emma messed it up.

No. No, she didn’t. Shut up, Ray, you stupid head. How can you say that about your own family? What kind of twisted person are you. What kind of…

See, this is why Ray can’t think right now. His mind is just going to whirlwind to bad, bad places. He’d rather sleep. That’s all he wants to do right now, to just fall into a coma and not think again.

He turns over on his bed and shuts his eyes as tight as he can. Patterns flash behind his eyelids.

He lays there, still for a couple minutes.

And then he screams. 

He jolts up and leaps out of bed. 

There’s something he’s missing. He hates it. He hates not knowing what’s going on, he hates that even when Norman literally handed over the escape plan to him, there was still a veneer of fog and confusion layering his brain. 

It’s so frustrating, and Ray knows , Ray knows as he’s seething here in his solitary confinement that it’s definitely this puzzle, this big mystery he’s so unaware of, that foiled the escape plan. It’s just above his head, just above his reach, and he hates it. He knows Emma isn’t aware of it, but she hates it too. That’s why she didn’t want to leave Norman behind.

That, and Emma is the most frustratingly kind, caring, righteous person he knows-

Ugh, he can’t stand this. He can’t stand it at all.

He really stinks, doesn’t he? Not even intelligent enough to figure out the situation at hand. How can they escape like this?

Wow, Norman’s really getting to you. Now you’re spouting this ‘intelligence’ crap too. 

Ray storms back into bed.

He doesn’t know how long he seethes for, but eventually, his eyelids do close.

Ray is standing in a field.

Run, his instincts are telling him. Run quickly.

Don’t let him catch you?

‘Him’?

Him! We’re playing a game, silly!

A game? What game?

Run! Fast! Ray, is it really so hard? I know we’ve never won before, but we will this time! His intellect can only go so far, right?

But I don’t understand. What are we playing? 

Are you sure you’re doing okay, Ray? We’re playing t-

He jolts awake.

He remembers the sun in the field, the green grass, the cool shade of a nearby tree.

Great, he thinks. Just great that I would be graced with a memory of my time at the House. 

He thinks back to the dream. Who was it ?

An image of hair as white as snow pops into his mind.

His intellect can only go so far, right?

Eyes blue like the gems he’d read about in the library accounts.

I know we’ve never won before, but we will this time! 

A pale, round face, one unknowing of hardships or pain. A calm, knowing smile.

Ray suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up because, really, this just cements the fact that he’s going insane.

His dream was about Norman. 

Several agonizing weeks later, he gets a letter from Emma. 

It’s short, incredibly short, and Ray can feel his heart scrambling for more, more, is she okay, I want to talk to her, I miss her, I’m incredibly lonely, you know, but he clamps it shut. He reads the letter over and over, hoping to pick up on more hints as to what she possibly means.

Ray,

Have you been having any Norman dreams lately? Negotiate with guards for a talk soon, please.

Emma

Ray buries his face in his hands. He thinks he’s beginning to rather understand that Greek play with the blissfully ignorant king. Except, he’s no king, and unlike that man, he likes to think his tendency for denial is rather low. But…

He crumples the paper and hides it under his mattress. He supposes he’ll need to have a talk with the demons soon.