Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

July 7, 1971

Rain pounded against the road. Thunder could be heard in the distance, though no lightning struck.

Mrs. Doris Driscoll woke to the sounds of the storm. Her husband remained sound asleep beside her. She tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but all she did was toss and turn. Finally, she decided to just get up. Even though it was three in the morning, she was now wide awake.

Shuffling into the kitchen, she grabbed the kettle and filled it with water. Once it was boiling, she poured it into a cup and made tea. Carefully she made her way to the couch, making sure she didn't bump or spill as she sat down. The last thing she needed was a mess on her hands. Late night - or early morning - cleaning was not fun, and certainly not easy to do if she wanted to let Jack continue to sleep.

The darkness was suddenly interrupted by flashing red and blue. Setting her cup down on the table, she made her way to the windows. She pushed back the lace curtains and glared out, realizing she had left her glasses on the nightstand by her side of the bed. She didn't need them, however, in order to be able to tell what the disturbance was.

Three police cars came into view as they shot around the bend, sirens wailing as they sped past. They shot down the street and turned right, headed straight for Loch Nora.

Maybe it was time to go back to bed.

------

The phone rang.

Martin rubbed his eyes and turned over, taking a glance at the clock. 3:51am. Too early. Reluctantly, he pushed back the covers and swung his feet out of bed. He put on his slippers one at a time and began to make his way to the phone in the hallway. He was beginning to reconsider even having a home phone. With all of the work calls he got on a daily basis, he was beginning to get tired of all the noise. Or maybe he should just get more competent employees. To his current staff, it seemed like just about anything could qualify as an "emergency".

It kept ringing.

"Yes, I hear you." He mumbled to no one as he picked up the receiver. "Who is this and what business do you have calling me in the middle of the night!" Martin didn't mean to snap, but he didn't feel bad for doing so. It was early, after all.

"It's Fred Reynolds, sir," Ah, Reynolds. The man never had anything better to do than annoy him, it seemed. "Well, um, so sorry to bother you sir, and I do know what time it is, but-"

"Then you do realize that you are interrupting the most important part of a man's day? At least eight hours of sleep every night are required to function properly."

The voice on the other end coughed in such a small way it sounded as though he was being strangled. "It involves the project sir. Those uh, special kids you've been looking for?"

"Be quiet!" Martin hissed. "Have you no sense of secrecy?"

"Apologies sir!" He yelped. "But the police were just dispatched to a house in Loch Nora, and based on reports I really think you should get down there right away!"

"Why?" He asked, but the dial tone was already buzzing in his ear. "Why? WHY?" He yelled. It was no use, the line was dead. He slammed the receiver back in its place and hurried back to his room to change. Less than five minutes later, he was speeding to the other side of town, praying that he wouldn't have to deal with any cops on the way.

------

It didn't matter that he hadn't been given an address, all of the sirens directed him to the right house.

As he approached, the police just waved him through, even holding up the tape for him so he could more easily enter the scene. Glass was scattered throughout the yard, some of the pieces sticking up in the mud puddles that surrounded the property. The wind had picked up and some tree branches were being blown every which way, smacking roofs and telephone poles and whatever else crossed their path. Two figures stood at the entrance of the house with shock blankets on. It looked like a couple. His guess was confirmed as correct as he got closer. The man turned to him, holding his hands up to shield his eyes from the rain.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice gruff and demanding.

"I am Doctor Martin Brenner, and you are...?" Martin replied as he stuck out his hand for a handshake.

The man snorted but shook his hand. "Richard Harrington. This is my wife, Mary."

The woman, Mary, shyly waved. "You must be here because of our son. He's in there." She turned her head and gestured vaguely towards the door. She had to shout in order to be heard over the rain. "We didn't know what to do, so we just left him, poor thing. He wouldn't stop crying. We told him, 'Steven, behave!' but he wouldn't listen to us. I tried to pick him up and then-" She looked solemnly at the scattered glass. "It's going to be such a hassle, replacing those windows. Just so much work." Mary rubbed her forehead, apparently oblivious to the bleeding cut that was there. Martin scanned her and Richard for other signs of injury, but it was hard to tell in the dark.

Her husband cut in. "But they called you because they said you're an expert on this sort of thing. Child psychopathy or psychology or whatever. Maybe you could take him off our hands and figure out what's wrong. I prefer my own method of doing things, personally, but now that you're here I guess- are you even listening to me?"

Martin moved towards the door and delicately turned the handle, pushing it open. The protests of Richard Harrington were lost in the midst of the scientist's thoughts. If Reynolds was right, then this child possessed greater gifts than the two rich upstarts outside could comprehend. And it was his job to cultivate their abilities and nurture them to their fullest potential.

The house was huge. The living room was open and connected to the kitchen, which was off to the left. To the right, a flight of stairs led up to a catwalk that probably connected to the upstairs rooms. Past the stairs was a second living room, filled with tables and art and furniture. Expensive, breakable items were on small tables and lavish bookshelves. The whole place looked like a museum, with a thin layer of dust covering an otherwise pristine household.

In the center of the first room there was a toddler who looked no older than five sitting on the shag carpet, crying. He had floppy brown hair and was wearing a yellow and blue striped shirt, which was soaked in tears and blood. The boy had cuts all over his arms as well as bruises, along with an angry red mark on the side of his face. He looked up at Martin as he came in but did not stop crying.

Martin made his way over to the child and crouched in front of him. "Hello, Steven."

He looked curiously up at him, tears still streaming down his face. Martin picked him up and held him in his arms, rubbing a hand on his back to soothe the crying boy. Then he turned and walked out of the house. He walked through the rain, past the parents, the broken windows, the glass, the tape, and the police. When he got to the car, he shuffled around a bit to be able to hold the child and grab his keys at the same time. Then he placed him, now asleep, into the back seat and drove away, towards Hawkins National Laboratory.

Martin turned on the radio and let music play softly from the speakers. The rain pounded harder than ever, and thunder boomed as lightning cracked across the sky, like the flash of a camera. The car skidded on a hard turn, and he had to fight the wheel for control to keep them from sliding off the road and crashing. A particularly loud clap of thunder made the boy snap awake, hyperventilating.

"Where- who- where am I? Where's mama?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers as his eyes darted back and forth in a desperate search.

"It's okay Seven, just sit back and relax. Everything is going to be alright, you're with Papa now." He said in a low voice.

"I'm not Seven! I'm Steve! And you are not father!"

He spoke with a more firm tone this time. "Whining is not acceptable, Seven. You will learn the rules with time. Now sit back, we still have a little ways to go."

Seven pouted but did not argue. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"Your new home." Papa replied.

The rain continued on as they drove up the long road to the lab, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Chapter Text

Steve woke up in the hospital. At least, he thought it was a hospital. It certainly looked like the one he had been in before, when his father...

He wasn't supposed to talk about it. It was not allowed. His father said so.

When he sat up, his head felt weird. He was no longer wearing his clothes, but instead he wore a hospital gown. Except this one wasn't made out of paper. It felt more like a big t-shirt. The room around him was pretty bare. It had a white floor, a white ceiling, and white walls. Everything was white, white, white. The bed he was in matched the colour scheme as well. His mom was always talking about colour schemes, so he felt like he knew quite a bit about them.

To his right was a metal table. He could tell it was metal because it was shiny, like the spoons he used to eat his cereal. On the table was a lamp, which was turned on. It was also the only light source in the room. He looked up and saw a door not far from where he was laying. Quickly, he shuffled out of the bed and plopped both of his feet onto the tile, only to recoil at the last second. It was freezing! His house was pretty cold, but this felt like he had been stuck inside of a freezer. And he knew from experience what that felt like. Mustering up his courage, he put his bare feet back to the floor. A shiver ran through him, but he began to walk nonetheless.

To avoid touching the cold for too long, he quickly hopped from foot to foot, making his way to the door in fewer steps than he expected. He gripped the handle (which was also freezing) with both of his small hands and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. It didn't budge. Steve started to panic. He shook back and forth, using all of his body weight to try and open the door to no avail. He then resorted to pounding on the door with his fists. "Let me out! LET ME OUT! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!" He continued to scream and punch. Then he started to cry. "PLEASE!" He yelled again. In tears he slid to the floor with his back against the door. He curled up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest.

Eventually he began rocking back and forth as he cried. He took some breathes and began to calm down. Father never liked it when he was upset. Maybe if he stopped crying, they would let him out. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, then rubbed his face to wipe up the tears. As he did so, his hands ran through his hair. His hair... it was gone.

Steve scrambled to a standing position and looked around for a mirror. The only reflective surface in the room was the top of the table. He moved the lamp and stared into the rectangular surface. His hair had been buzzed down to the scalp. The only other time he had seen someone with that haircut was during preschool a few months prior, when Tommy Hagan had gotten lice and had to stay home for a week, and returned with a shaved head. As Steve reached up to inspect his head, his reflection revealed another surprise he somehow hadn't noticed before.

His left wrist was wrapped in a bandage. The other cuts on his arms were left alone and weren't causing him any pain. His wrist, however, throbbed and ached. He didn't remember hurting his wrist. Ripping off the bandage revealed angry red around a black number, written in a small blocky print.

007

What was it the man had called him earlier? Seven.

This wasn't right. He was having a nightmare, and he would wake up and crawl into mama's bed even though father hated it when he did that. He was going to wake up and everything would be fine. Everything was going to be-

The door slammed open, revealing two men dressed in all white. One of them was shorter, with dark hair and a frown. The other was tall with blonde hair, and a weird smile on his face, like he couldn't decide whether to slap him or tuck him into bed. Then the two men stepped aside, revealing the man from the car. It was much easier to see what he looked like when he was standing in the door, rather than turned around in the front seat.

The man was old. He had all white hair and had wrinkles on his forehead, the same kind his father had. He wore a suit, with a sharp blue tie and a white shirt that was so clean it almost blended in with the rest of the room, making it seem like he had a weird hole in his chest. The man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. "Good morning, Seven. I see you have removed your bandages. Why don't we go get new ones? Your wrist must be hurting."

Steve eyed the man, clutching his wrist close to his chest with his other hand. He did not want to get new bandages. He wanted to go home. "My name is Steve!"

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Your name is Seven. I am your Papa. Why don't we go get a bandage?" He repeated, taking a step forward and bending down to his eye level.

Steve backed up even more. "I WANT MAMA! GO AWAY!" He yelled.

Papa frowned. "I can see you're not going to be reasonable. I guess we'll try again tomorrow, won't we?" He stood up and left the room, saying something to the guards before he did so.

The shorter man pulled out something from his belt. He held up what seemed to be a long black stick, and when he pressed the button, blue sparks shot out from the tip in all directions. He hurdled himself towards Steve, grabbing the collar of his gown and tossing him against the far wall. Steve tried to run to the door but quickly stopped when the stick was jabbed towards him and sparked again. The man smiled down at him. "Don't like that huh? Stay back kid, or you'll just make this harder on both of us."

"Ray." The blonde man said from the doorway.

The man, presumably Ray, muttered something and began to walk backwards to the door, stick pointed at Steve the whole time. The blonde man jabbed his head impatiently toward the exit and the two of them left, shutting the door behind them.

Steve ran over and pulled on the handle, but it was no use. He was locked in again.

He paced the room for what seemed like forever, trying to find an exit or escape, or even just something to do. When he found nothing, he laid on the bed, counting ceiling tiles. At some point, he must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, his wrist was rebandaged, and a tray of food was sitting on the metal table. He devoured his plate and finished in a matter of minutes, eating so fast he didn't even know what the food was. When the plate was clean, he rolled over and fell back asleep.

The next time he woke up, the lamp was turned off. The room was pitch dark, except for a creepy red blinking where the ceiling was. He felt around for the switch. Even though the switch moved, the lamp did nothing. Steve's mind began to imagine monsters hidden in the dark, waiting to take his hair or draw numbers into his skin. He curled up and pulled the covers over his head, afraid of what wasn't real and what very much was at the same time. Steve cried himself to sleep, wishing that someone would save him from the weird hospital and blinking light.

------

The next day, the lamp was on again. A food tray rested on the table. Steve ate the food and downed the water in one gulp. He was incredibly thirsty.

His counting skills were improving, since counting tiles was the only way for him to pass the time. When he finished the ceiling tiles, he moved on to the walls. Those took him a bit longer, since there were four walls with way more tiles on each of them. Then he moved to the floor. Then he started over again. When he finally got bored of that, he tried to push the bed, but it was stuck to the floor. So instead he just ran around the length of the room, finding more and more creative ways to go over or under or around the bed.

The sound of a latch moving rang out as the door swung open, revealing the same group as yesterday. Ray and the blonde man stood guard at the door while Papa came in, hands clasped behind his back and smiling as if nothing had happened the day before.

"How are you feeling today, Seven?" He asked, casually taking the tray from the table and passing it to Ray.

Steve didn't answer. He stood at the foot of the bed, shifting uncomfortably and refusing to look anywhere but the floor.

"I see. Not very talkative?" He sighed. "Perhaps this will change your mind?"

He pulled out a stuffed bear and placed it on the bed. It was fuzzy with brown fur, and its black nose was stitched into the shape of a heart.

Steve hated it. He hated it because it looked just like his bear at home. It was his bear from home. How this man had gotten it, he didn't know. But he hated it. This man had no right to touch his bear. He had no right to lock him in a room and have a man point a weird stick at him and he had no right to keep him from his mama. He wanted to go home and he hated the bear and he hated the man.

He marched over and snatched the bear off of the bed and threw it in the man's face. "I WANNA GO HOME!" He screamed. "TAKE ME HOME, PLEASE! I WANNA GO HOME!"

Ray stepped forward, but Papa held up his hand. "Seven, you are home. Why don't you take the bear? He made the trip just for you." He said, putting the bear back in its place.

Steve's lip quivered as he burst into tears. He cried and screamed and stomped his foot. They weren't listening to him! It wasn't fair! All he wanted to do was go home. Why wouldn't they just let him go home?

"Seven, stop this behavior at once. You know whining isn't allowed. I've already told you the rule, and I've already allowed it once. Don't make me have to use punishment."

On top of being upset, Steve was now confused as well. Locking him in a white room wasn't a punishment? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense! He wanted to go home. At least when his father locked him up, it made sense. He wanted to go home, now. Now!

Steve stomped his foot again and screamed. Ray charged at him with the stick. Steve didn't want the stick. He jerked his head up and screamed again, making a sweeping motion with his arm. A wave roared in his ears and his head rushed. The man flew backwards and hit the wall, dropping the stick as he did so. He groaned in pain, but did not get up.

Papa just looked at the man, a hint of surprise on his face.

Steve's head felt like it was spinning. He collapsed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

Papa made his way over to him, putting one arm under his neck and the other under his knees. He scooped him up and placed him on the bed, tucking him under the covers.

"That was wonderful, Seven. You used your gifts well. Now it's time to sleep. Perhaps you will be more cooperative tomorrow." The man swiped a finger under Steve's nose, and it came away red. He didn't seem bothered by this, instead he simply grabbed a handkerchief and wiped it off.

He wanted to protest. His name wasn't Seven, it was Steve. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to go home.

Some other men in white came and took Ray away, and soon the only people left in the room were Steve and the blonde man, who gave him a somewhat sad look before closing the door and locking it behind him.

Steve was asleep long before the lamp went out.

------

By the third day, Steve had a plan.

On the fourth day, he finally had the courage to execute it.

After he finished his tray, he turned to what he had discovered was a camera and yelled, "I'm done!"

Once he had completed counting the tiles on the ceiling as well as the ones on the first two walls, the two men from before came in again, but without Papa. Ray was extremely grumpy and didn't seem too happy about the new bandages on his face. He trudged over to collect the tray when Steve grabbed it and knocked the stick out of his hands, then hit the man over the head with it several times before he fell to the ground. He then grabbed the stick and jabbed it at the blonde man as he ran past him, out the door and into a hallway.

It looked similar to the white hallways of the hospital he had been in before, but the lights were darker and the doors were weirder. There were numbers on all of them, but they weren't big like the hospital ones, they were beginning numbers. Counting numbers. Ones that he actually knew. As he passed, he read them.

6

8

9

10

11

The hallway forked there and he went left, sprinting as fast as he could. He heard shouting behind him, but he didn't stop running. He ducked under a doctor's arms and wove around carts and equipment. The further he got, the less and less the place looked like a hospital.

Where was he?

Strong arms grabbed him and lifted him into the air. "NO! NO!" He yelled, kicking and flailing to escape the hold.

Papa moved to stand in front of him. "I don't want to hurt you, Seven. Please, just go back to your room, and then we can sort all of this out. Okay?"

Steve struggled.

"Put him down, Vern, I've got it from here."

A voice spoke from above him. "Are you sure, sir?"

Papa's mouth became a hard line. Steve recognized that look. It was the same one his father got when he was mad. Real mad. "Do I seem uncertain to you?"

Vern let him go.

"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He said before turning to Steve. "Now Seven, come along. Everything is alright. And if you run again, I am confident that Vern can catch you."

He offered his hand to the boy.

Steve took it. It was better than being manhandled anyway.

Together, Papa lead him through the hallways, back through the rooms and to the door with the sign that matched his wrist.

He bent down until he was at eye level with Steve. "Since you were bad, you do understand that you must be punished, correct?" The man asked.

Steve stared at the floor.

"Correct?" He repeated.

Steve nodded.

"Good. I'm glad we agree, Seven. Henry here" -he gestured to the blonde man, now Henry, who gave a small nod at the mention of his name. "-will be making sure you are awake when you receive, eat, and finish your meals. Just to avoid anymore...incidents."

He looked over. Henry had a warm smile, but cold eyes that felt like they were cutting through him. Shaking it off, he returned his focus back to Papa, who was now standing again with a hand on his back, guiding him into his room before closing the door and locking it, leaving the four year old all alone.

------

Henry knocked as he entered, holding the tray of food up.

Steve sat up straight in his bed. Henry hated it whenever he was anywhere but the bed when he came, so Steve stayed there until after he left for the day, typically only returning just before lights out.

This was the fifth day of their routine. Steve would wake up, wait for Henry, they would eat, and then Henry would leave, and the rest of the day would be spent counting and pacing and coming up with new games for him and Mr Bear to play.

The tray clanged as it was placed on the table. "Remember the rules, Seven? No food until you say our names."

Steve nodded.

Henry held up the fork. "We'll start easy. What is the bear's name?"

Steve squeezed the animal closer to his chest. "Mr Bear." He mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Mr Bear!"

He was rewarded with a smile and a bite of pancake. "Good. Now what's my name?"

"Henry."

The man in question grinned again. "Right! Now something harder...what's your name? You seem to have trouble with this one the most."

"St-" He didn't get to finish before the bite was thrown across the room. Henry was definitely not smiling now.

"Now, we've talked about this. Your dreams about that other house, they aren't real. This is your home." Henry smiled again. Maybe he never stopped, and getting upset had just been his imagination. "Try again. What is your name?"

A dream? That didn't make any sense. His parents were real, he was sure of it! Then again, Henry was really smart. And he knew a lot of stuff. He knew about different types of spiders. Steve knew nothing about spiders. Steve knew nothing about dreams.

"But-"

"Seven, I have been very nice to you, haven't I?"

He said nothing.

"Haven't. I."

He nodded.

"Good. I'm glad we agree. Now, please stop with the dream so Papa can take you to the Rainbow Room. You want new games, right? All you have to do is just say your name. It's that easy."

He considered it. New games? Somewhere else besides his room? He liked that idea. Henry was always so smart and nice. And all it took was just saying his name? He could do that. That was easy. His name was Steve Harrington.

No, that wasn't right.

Steve.

No, not that either.

Steven?

No...

He looked down at his wrist. Oh yeah, it was like Henry said. It was really nice and helpful of Papa to write his name on his wrist so he wouldn't forget. He could be so clueless sometimes.

His name wasn't Steven.

"Seven."

Henry smiles, and he knew he got it right.

"Good boy. I'll go tell Papa that Seven is ready to join the Rainbow Room."

Chapter Text

The lights flashed on as Henry entered the room.

"Well, well. Someone's a sleepyhead this morning." He greeted with his usual smile.

Seven rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the room blearily until he noticed the man. Sobering up, he threw off the covers and ran over to him, excited to finally leave his room.

Henry knelt in front of Seven and straightened his collar. "Are you ready to meet the others?"

"Others?" He asked. No one had mentioned any "others" to him before.

"Why, your brothers and sisters of course. Did you forget about them?"

He thought about it. He didn't remember having any siblings. Just a big house, and his parents.

No, that wasn't right.

He had Papa. Why couldn't he remember other kids?

His breathing sped up. Why couldn't he remember?

Henry put his hands on Seven's shoulders. "It's alright, Seven. You have trouble remembering sometimes, that's all." He rubbed his hands back and forth to soothe the boy. "Don't worry, Papa will reintroduce you."

Seven continued to panic, his eyes darting in all directions.

"Look at me, Seven. It's going to be okay. Just take a deep breath." Henry instructed, inhaling slowly, then exhaling.

Seven copied him and slowly began to calm down. Then another thought popped into his head. "What if...they don't like me?"

"They will." Henry stood and smiled at him. "Don't worry."

The doors swung open and Seven was led into a large room with rainbows painted every wall, as well as one on the floor. It was a huge difference from the bare white of his room. There were several tables and shelves filled with games, books, and activities. Benches surrounded the outer edge of the room, with books and toys sporadically placed along them. Six other children were scattered about, some reading, some playing, and one browsing the possibilities. A mirror was on the wall opposite of where he and Henry were standing. Seven saw himself for the first time that he could remember.

He knew he was small, but he seemed even more so next to Henry. His shaved hair was a little longer than he thought, sticking up like little spikes along his head, which he flattened with his free hand. He had brown hair and even browner eyes, which stared back at him intensely. The hospital gown dwarfed him as it extended just past his knees, as well as the sleeves reaching the tops of his elbows. When he looked at his face, he noticed that he had a couple of large freckles near his jaw and on his neck. He moved his head to the side and the reflection did so as well, causing him to smile in amusement.

"What do you want to do first?" Henry asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Seven looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the tubs of toys. Immediately, he made his way over to them, sifting through the contents of the boxes. Some had blocks, others had balls, or jacks, or slinkies, or other toys. But one tub really caught his eye.

Henry appeared beside him. "You like those?"

Seven nodded and pulled out a couple of colourful spinning tops. He moved to the nearest table and began to twist the handles, letting the tops spin around and around. He squealed with delight every time they began to spin on their own. When they fell over, he picked them up and spun them again.

The two of them played for a while before the doors opened again. Papa walked in and all of the other kids abandoned their activities and lined up on either side of him.

"Go ahead, join them." Henry whispered. "Don't be afraid."

Seven put down the top in his hand and shuffled over to the others, standing next to an older boy with curly black hair.

"Good morning, children." Papa said.

"Good morning, Papa!" The others responded. Seven said nothing. He didn't know he was supposed to.

"How are we feeling today?"

"Good, Papa!"

"That's good." He said, then turned to Seven. "Today, Seven has finally joined us in the Rainbow Room." Papa motioned for him to step forward, and he did so. "Everyone, say hello."

"Hello, Seven." They echoed.

Papa put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Today you start your first lesson, Seven." He then turned around and said, "Three, would you please get the door?"

A tall black haired boy stepped out of the line and grabbed the door handle. He pulled and it swung open, allowing the children to file out and follow the men in white - or orderlies, as he learned they were called - down the hallway to their lesson.

"Let's go see what you can do, Seven."

They left the now empty room, letting the door shut behind them with a click.

------

Seven sat in a chair opposite of Papa.

The room was similar to his own, with white walls and mostly empty, but there was also one of those mirrors that he found out was actually a window. He wondered how it worked, but Papa was talking.

"Now Seven, this is your first test, so don't get frustrated if you don't get it right away, okay?" He asked.

Seven nodded. Two orderlies came in with a weird machine, and a third grabbed a net from the cart and placed it on Seven's head. She then began to attach wires to it, humming softly. When they were finished setting up, they all left the room and closed the door.

Papa wrote something on his clipboard and set something on the table. It was a red soda can. "This is a simple test, all you have to do it crush the can."

That's it? He thought. It seemed easy enough. He hadn't expected that to be the test, but he mentally shrugged at the thought. Slowly he lifted his hand from his side and reached for the can, which was quickly snatched away before he even got close.

"Without touching it." Papa added, putting it back down on the table. "Do you remember the other day when the men came into your room?"

An image of Ray and Henry flashed in his mind.

"I was giving you a gift. And the man attacked you?"

Electricity. Anger. Screaming.

"You have a very special gift, Seven, as do your brothers and sisters. I want you to use your gift. I want to help you."

The wall had to be fixed. The bear was soft.

"Can you do this for me? Seven?"

He opened his eyes. He didn't realize that he even closed them in the first place until he did so.

"Yes, Papa."

He turned to the can. He thought back to that day. He remembered how angry he was. He didn't know why he was angry, he just felt it.

"Focus, Seven. Use your energy to crush the can."

Seven directed all of his feelings at the can. He strained and he pushed. He felt angry. He hated... he didn't remember what. But he did. He hated the can. All of his anger was on the can. He wanted to destroy it. He wanted to hurt it. He wanted to hurt it before the man hurt him.

A wave roared in his ears. He heard blood rushing to his head. A scribbling noise filled the room as the machine spat out paper.

The can crumpled and caved into itself.

The dizziness faded. Papa smiled at him. He was happy. Seven was happy. He did not fail the test.

"Wonderful job, Seven." He praised.

Seven beamed with pride. He had done it! Clapping his hands together, he swung his feet back and forth in delight. Papa wrote more on his paper before taking the crumpled can away.

A tickling sensation filled Seven's nose. He brushed his fingers above his lip and saw blood. His eyes widened and he began to scream. Papa quickly moved out of his chair and was at his side in a flash, handkerchief in hand. "Don't be frightened, that is perfectly normal. It's just a little blood, see?" He pulled away the cloth and revealed the small red blot that now stained the pristine fabric. "You're alright. Just take a deep breath for me."

Papa placed a hand on Seven's chest and exaggerated his own breathing, and Seven copied him.

"I think that's enough testing for today. You can go back to your room and eat." He motioned toward the mirror/window and the orderlies from before entered, along with Henry. The net was removed and the machines whisked away, the papers stored in a manilla folder.

Henry led him by the hand down the hallway. "So, how did it go?" He asked gently.

Seven looked up at the older of the two. He took his time and thought about it before facing forward again. "Good. I passed." He said.

"You don't sound too excited."

"I am!" Seven protested, stomping his foot. "Papa said I did good."

Henry unlocked the door and revealed the food tray already laying on the bed. "That's great, Seven. You must be hungry after doing such a good job, then. Let's eat."

Seven ran over to his bed and placed the tray on the table, then hugged Mr Bear close to his chest.

They had a new game, now. Henry would ask him what colour of the rainbow he was thinking of. Seven would think about it, and then make a guess. He was only right about half the time, but at least in this game Henry didn't throw his food away when he was wrong.

"Blue?"

"Nope." Henry said. "Guess again."

Seven thought about it some more. "Green?"

A smile. "Yes, here's your bite." He handed the fork over, and Seven happily ate the piece of chicken stuck to it.

"One day, you'll be able to guess all of the colours first try."

Seven's eyes widened "You think so?" He asked, mystified.

Henry nodded. "That's one of your abilities. Your brothers and sisters are training to do it as well." He took a pause, and then continued. "But do you want to know a secret?"

Seven bobbed his head up and down rapidly, eager to hear what the orderly had to say.

"I think you are going to be the best."

They continued their guessing game until the plate was clear. Henry gathered up the silverware and left the boy alone with his thoughts. He did not do any of his normal tricks to cure his boredom. He was constantly thinking over the events of the day. The can crushing, Papa praising him, and most of all, Henry's secret.

Seven stayed awake long after his light went out. He was too happy. However, he eventually fell asleep, dreaming of red soda cans.

------

They continued their training nearly every day. In spite of how well Seven did during his first test, it was starting to feel like beginner's luck. He could only do the tasks asked of him about a fourth of the time with complete success, and only very few of those successes were done in a timely manner. Sometimes they had to take breaks because Seven had been at it for so long, and he could tell that Papa was getting frustrated. Not all of his lessons were with Papa either. Doctors would sometimes help him train, encouraging him and recording results on their clipboards. But he never learned anything new without Papa.

Sometimes Papa would be away for a couple of days, and the ones who had been good that week were allowed more time in the Rainbow Room.

Seven branched out and played with the other toys, but for the most part he stuck to the tops. He liked watching the colours swirl together as they spun around and around. He had four tops all spinning, swiftly rolling around the table, playing chicken with each other as they got close and veered away at the last second. One of them fell over.

The door opened and all of the children lined up as usual.

"Good morning, children." Papa said in a strained voice.

"Good morning, Papa." They replied, hesitant. Papa was definitely not in a good mood, and they could all feel it.

The man in question turned towards the orderlies and made a circle motion with his hand. They stepped forward and opened the doors. "Take them to the training room." Papa ordered, and the orderlies ushered the children out of the room, skipping the usual step of changing into training clothes and leading them to the black padded room.

When all of them were accounted for, they lined up against the far wall.

Papa paced back and forth in front of them for a while, thinking.

"Today, we are doing something different," He announced, and all of the numbers exchanged looks. "We are going to test Two, and all of you get to observe."

Two looked up in surprise at the mention of his name. Cautiously, he stepped forward, and Papa guided him to a chair in the center of the room. Orderlies hooked up a net to his head and the machine began spitting out paper.

"Two, do you know why you are in the spotlight today?"

He shook his head.

"It is because yesterday you took away the ball Six was training with, insisting that you could do it better and faster than him."

Seven remembered the incident. Six had been slowly making progress with the maze, becoming increasingly frustrated whenever he messed up. He had related to the other boy. Even though occasionally he had performed well, like with the soda can, Seven still struggled with his abilities, especially with smaller, more controlled movements. Such as moving a ball through a maze.

Two also noticed the struggle and had come striding over, shoving Six aside in order to show off his superior control.

Now he was going to be punished for it.

Papa faced the line. "Children, is it okay to shove?"

They all shook their heads. "No, Papa."

"Is it okay to take from others?"

"No, Papa."

"Good. I'm glad we all understand. Now, Two, you can show us all your expertise." He looked behind the boy and motioned to the mirror.

The orderlies filed in again and set a large ball on the ground. It took three of them to lift it, and their faces were beaded with sweat as they placed it in front of the wall across from where Two was sitting.

"I want you to move it towards you," Papa instructed, "slowly, or else you could hurt yourself."

Two nodded and looked at the ball. He stared at it hard, concentrating. The rest of the kids watched as he attempted to draw it to him.

Now it was Two's turn to sweat. He groaned a little as he strained against the weight. His teeth grinded and he became more and more angry as he realized it wasn't going to budge. The machine beeped and whirred as the lines on the paper grew more jagged, the needle swiping faster and faster. Two even tried sticking out his hand in an effort to move it. Then he stuck out both hands, struggling to get it to move even an inch. Eventually he huffed and dropped his arms, letting them go limp.

"I can't," He whispered.

Papa put a hand to his ear. "What was that?"

"I can't." Two said, louder this time.

"Well, I hope you have learned your lesson, then. Everyone else may return to the Rainbow Room. Lessons begin in a half hour."

The rest of them were escorted out by the orderlies. Seven lagged behind and heard yelling coming from the other side of the doors. He wanted to go back and see what the cause was, but Henry grabbed his wrist and gently (but firmly) pulled him away, leaving Seven with only guesses as to what he had heard.

------

The net sat uncomfortably on Seven's head.

It had been two months since Two's punishment, and five since Seven had stopped having dreams about the strange place with the strange couple who called him by a strange name that he could no longer remember. He was in a testing room, trying to move the three blocks into a stack. But he just kept knocking them over, or failing to move them at all.

Papa stifled a sigh as the tower knocked over for the ninth time.

"Why don't we take a break?" He suggested. "Something is distracting you, Seven. Tell me what it is."

"Nothing, Papa." He replied, not taking his eyes of the blocks. He wanted the block in the middle to move. It did not.

Papa tilted his head. "Lying will not help your problem, Seven. In fact, it could make it worse."

The block that had been previously floating in the air fell on the table, and Seven grunted in frustration. He grabbed the net and yanked it off his head, letting it fall to the floor.

"Not lying!" he protested. "I just can't do it."

"You did it yesterday." Papa countered. "What's different today?"

Seven looked down at his feet. "I don't know." He muttered.

"Seven, we talked about mumbling. You know I can't hear you when you do that."

"I don't know!" He said, now yelling. In a fit of anger, he curled his hands into fists and threw his arms down to his sides. His ears roared as the blocks in front of him shot off in three different directions, smacking into the walls and landing on the ground in a series of thuds.

Thunk Thunk Thunk

Papa flipped the pages back onto the clipboard so they laid flat on top of each other. "Let's be done for the day. I can see you're feeling uncooperative, Seven." Two men in white entered the room and stood on either side of Seven, each grabbing an arm and lifting him into the air. Seven kicked, knocking over his chair as he struggled.

"I am sorry you are making me do this, but it's for your own good. I am only trying to help you, Seven. You must understand that."

Seven writhed under the men's grip but it was no use. They carried him through the hallways, kicking and screaming, "PAPA!"

They turned the corner to the dead-end hallway, with a single door on the right. He immediately recognized where they were taking him.

"NO! NO!" He shrieked as they opened the door. "PAPA PLEASE!" He yelled, just before they tossed him in.

He hit the back wall and landed harshly on the floor, not unlike the blocks he had sent flying mere moments before. He quickly scrambled to get up before they closed the door, but he was too late. He was left alone in the cold darkness, without any of the usual amenities his room provided, such as the bear and the bed, and even the blinking light.

He had nothing but the walls to comfort him as he eventually drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

June 17, 1973

Lewis and his team entered the carnival. It was a busy, crowded area with plenty of games, food, rides, and most importantly: distractions. Parents occupied with their crying babies and handing off money to their teenagers, too busy to notice their missing children until it was too late. They were disguised in plainclothes, radios clipped to their beltloops. Brenner said he needed more kids, so that's what they were going to get.

He gave the signal and the three of them fanned out, searching. The smells of all the food vendors were overwhelming. Surely the boss wouldn't mind if he took a quick minute or two from the kidnapping business to have a caramel apple. He was at a carnival after all, and blending in was important.

Making his way over to the booths, he pulled out his wallet and grabbed some cash. The line was awful, wrapping around the stand and snaking out towards the path, getting in the way of the foot traffic. He was beginning to think twice about getting an apple. Maybe the funnel cake queue was shorter.

Just as he moved to get out of line, he heard it.

"Stop!" A boy's voice cried, sounding out from the trees nearby.

Curiously, the agent made his way towards the sound. What was a kid doing in the woods during the fair?

As he approached, the scene came into view. Two kids, one boy and one girl, stood over a third kid with a bowl cut. The girl was egging her partner as he bent down and grabbed bowl cut's shirt, fist raised in the air. "Come on, freak! We know you stole it. You're too poor to afford a toy like that! Just hand it over, and we'll leave you alone."

Bowl cut spit in the bully's face. "No way, Tommy! I bought it! It's mine!"

Lewis had to admit, the kid had guts.

"What do you think, Carol? Is our friend here telling the truth?" The bully, Tommy, asked. Carol shook her head in response, smirk on her face.

Tommy's fist swung down, but the other boy was faster, blocking his face by putting up his arms in an "x" shape. Snapping out of his initial shock, Lewis decided it was time to intervene. He sped toward the group, shoulders squared and back straight, projecting a sense of authority. "HEY!"

Tommy and Carol's faces paled, and the two of them split in the opposite direction, barreling past him and disappearing into the sea of people.

He walked up to the boy. "That was pretty impressive, kid. Where'd you learn that?"

His question was met with a glare as the boy stood up and brushed himself off. "None of your business," he said, eyes dropping down to the busted toy. "...but thank you."

The kid was by himself, in an isolated area. It wouldn't be very difficult for him and the others to take the boy before anyone noticed he was gone. A little old for what they were looking for, but not impossible to control.

Lewis opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a woman's voice. "JONATHAN!" He turned and saw a short, brown haired woman storming towards him. Her eyes were intense, and he all but jumped out of her way as she went right past him and knelt by the boy, who he guessed was her son. "Are you alright, sweetie?" She asked, brushing the boy's - Jonathan's - hair away from his face. In spite of his protests, ("I'm fine, Mom.") she inspected him fretfully, turning his head side to side and checking him for any new bumps or bruises (the kid already had a few, but apparently they were not a concern). When she found none, she stood up and positioned herself in front of him, shielding him from Lewis.

"What exactly are you doing with my boy by the woods?" She asked, her accusing tone cutting into him in search for the answers she wanted.

"I-I'm-" Lewis stammered before collecting his thoughts, trying to think of a believable story that didn't make him seem like a kidnapper, even though that was literally the reason he was there. In the end, he realized that the (partial) truth worked pretty well. "My apologizes, Ms..?"

"Byers. Joyce Byers." She filled in impatiently, and he could tell that he was only one wrong sentence away from a visit to the police station.

"Byers. I was getting a caramel apple when I heard a rucus, and saw these two brats tormenting your boy here. Then I stepped in and scared 'em off."

Joyce turned to Jonathan. "Is this true?"

Jonathan stared at Lewis, his eyes narrowed and face pinched. At first, he thought the kid was going to contradict his story and he would have to explain to Brenner why he was in a cell and not a new test subject. But apparently that was just the kid's resting face or something, because all he said was "Yes."

Joyce nodded and taking her son's hand, led him back to the carnival, throwing a look over her shoulder as they walked away.

That was close.

Appetite now gone, he returned to the main area and avoided any more detours. It seemed like he spent forever surveying, trying to find the right target. Too old, too crowded, too obvious. The fair was starting to wind down, and eventually it was going to become impossible to complete their mission without anyone noticing. He was about to call it when his radio crackled. Immediately, he ducked behind a booth and pulled it out.

"By the ferris wheel...girl..herself..." The audio cut in and out, but Lewis understood. He quickly stood up and made his way over to the ferris wheel. He scanned the area and made eye contact with the other agents. The one that had radioed in, Johnson, tilted his head and subtly pointed to his left. Lewis followed his line of sight and noticed a little girl with long dark hair, sitting by herself on a bench eating cotton candy.

The three of them slowly converged on her, making sure no one was looking. Johnson went over and sat next to the girl, turning his head away from her and giving a small nod.

Now

Lewis crept up from behind and put a hand over the girl's mouth. "Shh..." he said, leaning in. "If you come quietly, we won't hurt you. But if you yell, it will be the last thing you do. Nod if you understand."

The girl slowly moved her head up and down.

"Good. Now come with me."

He removed his hand and went around the bench, taking away the cotton candy and throwing it into the trash can beside where the girl was sitting. He then picked her up so her head was buried into his shoulder, that way it would look like he was taking his crying daughter away from the noisy carnival.

Lewis weaved his way through the crowds, Johnson and the others trailing behind to avoid suspicion. He ducked past pretzel sellers and clowns on stilts, eventually making it through the exits to the parking lot. As the men approached the van, they could faintly hear the yelling of someone who was probably one of the girl's parents. They were looking for her. Yelling a name that sounded like Kali, but he wasn't sure. It didn't matter anyways, now she would be known as a number.

He tossed her in the back and the other agents restrained her. Climbing into the driver's seat he started the ignition, and they sped out of the parking lot, down the street and out of sight.

------

The Rainbow Room had changed a little since Seven had first been allowed in.

There were fewer benches now, freeing up space for the new things. One side of the room still had the shelves and tables, but now the other had a large game with spikes and pucks. You put in a puck, and it would fall until it reached a number slot at the bottom. It also had a table with a smaller game called "chess". Seven hadn't played it yet, but it looked interesting. Instead, he was sitting at one of the new desks. It had lots of paper and pencils, like the ones Papa and the doctors used. Except these ones were better, because they had many different colours that allowed him to draw things like rainbows.

Other things had changed too. Now there were more kids. Eight, Nine, Ten, and little Eleven had joined the group. He hadn't seen much of them after they had first been introduced. Unlike when Seven had arrived woken up, their hair hadn't been shaved yet. They also hadn't joined in any lessons, but Papa said they would soon. Seven had wondered when "soon" was, but he didn't ask.

Currently, he was drawing one of the soda cans that were used during the tests. It wasn't very good, but he liked using the red, so it was fine with him.

Seven was about to grab another pencil when Papa walked in. He was wearing a blue tie this time, and he had a smile on his face as he walked around the room, observing. Eventually he made his way over to the desks and sat down.

"How are you feeling today?" The man asked, folding his hands and resting them on the table in front of him.

"Good." He answered, grabbing a blue pencil.

Papa looked down at the paper. "What are you drawing?"

Seven scribbled intensely before answering. "Training." He pointed to the red blob. "These are soda cans." He slid his finger over to a small figure in the blue he had just used. It had no arms or mouth and empty circles for eyes. Red streaks ran around the head and went down and out of the frame. "This is me. And these are wires." He moved his hand again to point to the large figure. It had a big smile and big arms. "This is you."

"It's wonderful." Papa said, taking the paper and looking at it for a moment, studying it. He then set it aside and said, "Are you ready for your lessons today?"

Seven nodded and slid out of the chair. He put all of the pencils back in their proper places.

Papa stood and offered his free hand to the boy, which he took. The two of them then walked out of the Rainbow Room together.

They went down the hall and into one of the training rooms. Orderlies were already waiting there, and they began hooking up the net as soon as Seven sat down. When they finished, they left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Papa sat across from him, and he noticed that there was a box of the coloured pencils sitting on the table.

"Today, we're going to try something else." He said, grabbing a blue pencil. "I am going to draw a picture, and you are going to try to see what it is without looking."

Seven blinked. "Guess?"

"No, Seven. You have many gifts. One of them is what I call remote viewing. That means that you can use your mind to see things, not just your eyes."

He still didn't understand, but nodded anyways.

"Just close your eyes, and focus on the notepad."

Seven did as he was told. He heard a faint scratching from across the table, and the low rumbling of the paper machine. He focused, using the same energy he did when he moved things. But this time he directed it at the page. He imagined the paper in his mind. There was colour on it, but he couldn't quite make it out. "A...star?" He opened his eyes and looked expectantly at the man.

"No." Papa said. "Try again. Let it focus, really try to think."

He closed his eyes once more. The image flashed in his mind again, but it didn't look like anything. The more he concentrated, the less he saw. Eventually it faded from view completely. "I don't know." He admitted, opening his eyes. "I lost it."

Papa sighed and shook his head.

Blood trickled down Seven's lip. He quickly wiped it away.

They continued to practice (and fail) for what seemed like forever until Papa finally set down his clipboard. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, and ushered the orderlies back in using the other hand.

The net was unplugged and removed. With another wave of his hand, Papa had the orderlies escort Seven out of the room, carrying him by his arms.

The door to his room swung open and they threw him inside, shutting and locking the door behind them. Slowly, he got up from the floor and managed to curl up onto his bed. He felt the hours slipping by him as he waited for sleep to come. Eventually his lamp went out, and he was left in the darkness. In spite of that, he remained awake.

Suddenly, a green butterfly flashed in his vision. He sat up and followed it with his eyes, and it floated around for a little while until it dissapeared.

He shrugged and laid back down, assuming that he was dreaming. When he rolled over, however, he saw a girl standing next to his cot. He nearly screamed at the sudden appearence, but the girl held a finger to her lips. He calmed down when he realized that he recognized her. It was Eight.

"How...are you here?" He asked.

"I'm not." She responded, her voice stilted in a funny way that didn't sound like anyone he'd ever heard before. "I'm using my abilities to make it appear as though I am in here. You were the closest to me, so I wanted to try talking to you."

Seven continued to stare at her.

Now it was her turn to ask a question. "What's your name?"

"Seven."

"No, what's your real name? Mine's Kali. They tried to make me forget, but I just pretended to. I'm guessing they did the same thing to you."

Seven shook his head.

Eight sighed. "That's okay. Just stick with me, alright? I'll help you. And the little one. She looked really scared when we were in the play room. I think they called her Eleven, but I'm not sure, because another lady called her Jane." She continued to ramble for a bit, but he didn't mind. It was nice to be able to talk to someone like this. Some of the older children could be pretty mean sometimes.

Eight's head turned suddenly to the left, as if she heard something. "Got to go." She said, then her image rippled and faded, leaving him alone.

------

Brenner sat in his office on the main floor of Hawkins National Laboratory, files laying across his desk. There were three exactly, the labels glaring at him as the sunlight from the window behind him reflected onto the manila paper.

Terry Ives

Project INDIGO: Subject #011

Project MK

Project MK had, overall, not been something that he (nor the US government) considered a "success". Most of the subjects ended up dead, or hospitalized, or had become so ill that they would most likely never be able to live their lives the way they had ever again. Although not all of those outcomes were a direct result of the project.

A few months prior, Terry Ives had come to the laboratory and spoke with him about her daughter, Jane. He knew that the child was alive, but she showed promise of possessing the exact skills and abilities he was after. She showed the same developmental markings that had appeared in Henry's and the other's medical histories, and it was of vital importance to his next project, INDIGO, that she stayed and be trained like the others. His career and all of his hard work hinged on having the children show results. He wasn't just going to let her go.

But as it turned out, the child's mother wasn't going to let her go either.

Terry had snuck into the building a few weeks later with a gun in a desperate attempt to get Jane back. But it was just like Brenner had told her, she had already lost the child. Jane was gone.

But Eleven was his.

He had watched as the security guards grabbed Terry by the arms and removed her from the children's room. They strapped her to a cot and took her into one of the therapy rooms. The staff geared up and attached the machine to her, and he personally put the rubber bit in her mouth to stop her from screaming. He observed as they turned up the voltage, higher and higher according to his orders.

Afterwards, the police had arrived and took Terry away, and he had looked through her file and found the contact for a Rebekah Ives, listed as her sister and informed her of the situation.

What happened after that was out of his concern.

He gathered the files in his hands and stood, making it to his filing cabinets in just a few short strides. As he went to put away Eleven's folder, a piece of paper managed its way out and fell down, curving as it hit the floor and sliding across the hardwood floor to the opposite side of the room. Sighing, he went over to it and bent down to pick it up.

It was a birth certificate, for Jane Ives. Born February 19, 1971 to Terry Ives and unknown father.

Paper in hand, he walked over to his desk and stuck it in the shredder. Once he finished putting away the files and locking the cabinets, he tidied up his office and then left, locking the door and leaving the paper shreds inside to be thrown away with the regularly scheduled trash on Wednesday.

Chapter Text

Seven spun the tops on the table and watched the colours blur into each other. Most of them were spinning because he used his hands. Two of them, however, were spinning due to his powers.
He held his concentration on them, forcing the tops to continue to spin in circles.

"Hey!" A shout came from across the room.

He turned away from the tops, allowing them to fall against the tabletop. As he looked over he saw Two, Three, and Four towering over the newest addition to their group, Eleven. By the look of it, she had been playing with some of the wooden blocks from the toy bins, and the older children had knocked them over. The little girl cowered under her sibling's sneering faces.

Two spoke up, "Oops. Looks like my hand slipped." Three and Four snickered. "Maybe you should build a less ugly tower next time."

"It's not ugly!" She shot back, stamping her slippered foot against the tile.

Two didn't reply, and instead knocked her over with his powers. Eleven's eyes threatened tears while the three older children continued to snicker. Five and Six sat nearby, but merely watched. Everyone else was in training. The orderlies simply stood guard at the doors, not bothering to interfere.

Seven wiped the blood from his nose and stormed over, shoving Two from behind. "Leave her alone!"

Two stumbled forward, then whipped around to face Seven.

"Watch it, runt." He said pushing the younger boy away. "This doesn't concern you," Two turned his back again, continuing with his taunts.

Seven's fingers tightened into fists, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. The other kids had returned to pushing Eleven around. The more they taunted her, the angrier he got. Her cries grew louder and louder. It made him angry that they were hurting her. It made him angry that everyone else was standing around ignoring the fight, not bothering to help.

A wave roared in his ears. His vision went red. Distantly, he heard someone scream, and he realized it was him. He held up his hands and pushed forward, and all three of the older children went flying through the air. A crack rang out as they hit the wall, leaving marks upon impact. Then, one by one they fell to the ground and did not get up.

Seven stood there breathing heavily. Streaks of blood ran down from his nose, dripping onto his gown.

Eleven looked up at him curiously. The two made eye contact and Seven gave her a small nod.

Suddenly the doors to the Rainbow Room burst open, and Papa came rushing in with Henry and a couple other orderlies in tow. "What happened?" He asked as the others fanned out behind him, forming a wall of authority.

Seven didn't answer. He was breathing heavily from the strain his attack had caused him. Papa looked around at the other children, looking for answers. No one said anything. They all stared in shock at their strongest siblings, lying in helpless heaps on the floor. Papa motioned with his hands and the orderlies collected the unconscious bodies and carried them away, presumably to the infirmary.

A moment later, the man was kneeling beside Eleven. "Are you alright?"

She nodded furiously. "Seven helped me."

"Really?" The man asked, morbid curiosity seeping into his voice. "How so?"

"The other kids were bad. Seven made them stop."

Papa listened carefully to her, considering her words for a moment before dismissing her. "Thank you, Eleven, you can go back to playing now. I will speak to your brother." He stood up and took only one step before a tiny hand caught his pant leg.

"Trouble?"

"No, he's not in trouble."

Eleven seemed satisfied at this answer and went back to the blocks.

Papa was now crouched in front of Seven, who was still attempting to calm down from his outburst. "Seven, can you hear me?"

The boy nodded.

"Good. Can you tell me what happened?"

A shake of the head. No.

"Alright. That's okay, you must be feeling tired." He raised a hand and cupped the side of Seven's head. He leaned into the touch, a now overwhelming sense of exhaustion filled him as the adrenaline started to wear off.

"Don't worry, Papa will make you better. Then we can practice more, help you to become less tired after using your powers. I will help you Seven, but for now you can rest."

Papa scooped the tired boy up into his arms, then carried him out of the Rainbow Room.

Eight stared as she watched them through the doorway while the door slowly closed, until they rounded the corner and out of sight.

------

Brenner sat in the security room, watching the footage of the day before.

Seven was highly inconsistent with his abilities, one day struggling to move a block and the next throwing three of the strongest subjects into the wall. The boy had a strong mind, he just needed the right tools to unlock it. Unfortunately, the tools he needed for such a thing were something that Brenner himself did not possess.

He flipped through more footage, going to the children's rooms. He stopped it when he found something interesting.

Subject Eight was walking around her room like a caged tiger, seemingly concentrated. Then her demeanor changed, as if she was having a conversation. At that same moment, in Seven's room, the boy sat up and looked like he was speaking as well. This went on for a few minutes until Eight suddenly darted to her bed and under the covers as an orderly checked in on the noise.

Telepathy. Of course. The children could communicate with each other, or at least Eight could. The girl had not shown any promise with her physical abilities, with no telekinetic activity readings during any of her tests. However, if she possessed the ability to project herself into other's minds, then he did have the perfect tool. He had her. He smiled at this revelation, gaining a renewed sense of determination as he turned off the screens and went to the door.

Brenner left the security wing in a hurry, bumping and pushing past the other staff members as he made his way to his office.

He furiously began writing notes, outlining experiments and test regiments. He was going to make every one of his subjects a success, by any means necessary. He had already learned from his past mistakes thanks to project MK. He would not repeat them. His thoughts were interrupted when he collided with an orderly.

One turned and faced him.

"My apologies, One, I didn't see you there."

"That's alright." He looked down at the paper and pencil in the older man's hand. "What are you working on?"

Brenner scowled slightly. "Not that it's any of your concern, but I'm working on something that just might help Seven gain better control of his abilities, and finally make progress with Eight. Now if you'll excuse me." He pushed past One and continued on his way down the hallway.

All he had to do was control Eight long enough for her abilities to coax out Seven's. Then he could finally get the results he had been waiting for.

------

Seven and Eight sat together in one of the testing rooms. Wired nets were strapped to their heads and the soft whirring of the machines sounded like the equivalent of jet engines in the silent room.

Papa entered through the side door and whispered into Eight's ear. Seven couldn't quite make out the words, so he was forced to be patient. He watched as Papa left the room once more, making his way behind the window where some of the other doctors stood, waiting.

Eight closed her eyes. "Try and relax." She whispered at a volume only the two of them could hear. He did his best to do what he was told, slowly letting the tension in his balled fists disappear as he uncurled his fingers and laid them flat on his lap. Suddenly, images began to appear in his mind. The Rainbow Room slowly came into focus, overwriting the test room in his vision. The bright colours stood out, but the edges of his vision became blurred and hazy, like a dream.

He saw Papa walk up to him, smiling. He spoke, and the words were more felt than heard. Come along now, Seven. Let's get started.

The scene changed, and he was in one of the rooms with Papa, a wire net sitting on his head. Papa was telling him to move the blocks, but it was hard. He struggled. He didn't know why. But then, it suddenly made sense. It didn't matter how, he just did. He pictured them floating. They did. He pictured them moving, and they began to zoom around in the exact places he told them to go. He imagined them stacking neatly, and they plopped themselves on top of each other, one by one.

Papa smiled at him. I'm very proud of you, Seven. He smiled at him. Seven smiled back.

A sound like static could be heard in Seven's ears, like someone was saying something from far away, or like an alarm clock in a dream.

The room shifted and changed again. He was in a different room now, but Papa was still there, this time holding a sketchpad.

What do you see, Seven?

Seven closed his eyes and concentrated. The image flashed in his mind, but he could only make out the colour. "Red?"

Papa nodded in spite of the frown on his face. What is it?

Seven concentrated harder. He imagined the paper in his head. He imagined Papa drawing it, choosing the red crayon and making bold, decisive strokes in order to make the image he wanted. The picture flashed in his mind again, this time with more definition.

"A soda can?"

Papa's smile grew wide this time. Well done, Seven. You're getting better at this.

Everything faded and then became focused again. Eight still sat in front of him, eyes now open. Papa kept his gaze on both of them while the doctors scribbled furiously on their clipboards, pencils wiggling.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Seven and Eight had sessions like that every other day. She would close her eyes, and Seven would see images of him succeeding at his tests. Then, Papa would take him to a separate room and repeat the test Eight had made him see. The more sessions he had with Eight, the better he got. His powers became more consistent. His remote viewing abilities grew stronger.

Seven's feet swung back and forth as he waited for Eight to enter the test room. He already had his net on, and was excited to start the test. He knew that this would mean another test afterwards, which would mean that he would do better, which meant Papa being proud of him, and possibly extra time in the Rainbow Room for both him and his sister. He had already thanked her for her help on numerous occasions, but every time he did she would just look at him sadly before smiling again and continuing their playing.

Eight shuffled in, Henry and another orderly behind her. Together they placed the net securely over her shaved head, making sure it was in place and the machines were working properly. Then they left, Henry giving him an encouraging smile before closing the door behind him.

Papa's voice came in over the microphone. "You may begin whenever you're ready."

Eight's eyes closed and the images began again.

Only this time, instead of tests, he was floating. Eight's voice spoke in his mind. Steve, can you hear me?

"Who is that?" He asked. He didn't know anyone named Steve.

Nevermind, she said. We'll save that for later. Do you see the house?

Seven shook his head before his eyes spotted it. A big grey house with a brown roof stood below him. A large amount of water shimmered in the backyard, surrounded by land and even more trees. A small path in front of the house led to a street, which stretched on for a good distance in both directions, with some other houses close by.

"Yes, why?"

Eight spoke again, That's where you live. That's where you were taken from.

That wasn't true. He had always lived in the lab, with Papa and the others. He didn't recognize the house she was showing him.

Yes, you do.

"No I don't!" He shouted. His hands flew up to his ears and he screwed his eyes shut. "I don't!"

Yes, you do Steve! Just remember!

"No!" Seven screamed. He opened his eyes and jerked his head up. His head rushed and his ears roared. Eight went flying backwards out of her chair and slid across the floor until she hit the wall, unconscious.

His vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears. His breathing quickened and everything began to go numb. He barely noticed when the orderlies entered the room, rushing to take the nets off of them. Papa crouched in front of him, hands resting on Seven's shoulders. "Seven, are you alright?"

Over Papa's shoulder he could see Eight being carried out of the room.

"Are you alright?" Papa repeated, "What did you see?"

All he managed to get out was "H-house-Steve! No!" Before his panic grew again. Papa turned and snapped his fingers before making a circle motion with his finger. Three orderlies came forward, two grabbing each of Seven's arms and holding them down. The third grabbed a needle and uncapped it, swabbing his arm.

Seven struggled to break free. Tears streamed down his face as he continued his erratic breathing. "No! No!" He cried, fighting the grown adults restraining him. A hand pressed against his head while the others tightened their grip on his arms, forcing him to be still. A sharp pain came from his left arm as everything went blurry. The last thing he saw was Papa's face, whispering to him reassurances as the world faded to black.

------

Brenner gently stroked the boy's forehead as he fell unconscious. He then picked him up and carried him out of the test room, down the hall and past the numbered doors until he reached the one marked "7".

After putting him in his room, Brenner left and locked the door behind him. One stood there, waiting.

"Make sure they keep him under for a while, drug him. Suppress Eight's ability to enter his mind. Hopefully he will forget whatever he saw. We can't have him believing in these old delusions, now can we?"

One said nothing, instead he simply nodded and walked away, presumably to do as he was told.

------

Kali sat in the Rainbow Room. She was playing with the number drop game, watching the puck fall before landing in the "3" slot. Amazingly, she hadn't been punished after her stunt during the test the week before, but she got the sense that she wasn't totally in the clear. The orderlies were keeping a closer eye on her than usual, and she could've sworn that the cameras followed her once or twice.

Nevertheless, she kept a cool head. She dropped another puck and let it fall, fall, fall until it hit the bottom. 3 again. It couldn't be a coincidence. She turned and scanned the room, searching for the culprit. Everyone else was busy with their own games, everyone, it seemed, except for little Eleven in the corner, who was staring at her. A drop of blood snaked down the girl's lip before she realized that Kali had noticed her. Quickly she wiped her nose and turned back to the blocks. Kali was about to stand up when the doors opened, revealing Steve —Seven— as he walked in from his "extra training session".

They had been going on for a week, ever since their last session together when she tried to help him remember.

He stumbled over to the desks, falling into his chair and just managing to steady himself. He fumbled with the coloured pencils. Every time he picked one up, they slipped out of his grip and rolled onto the floor. He was starting to make a mess.

Kali abandoned the pucks and went over to where he was, taking a seat at the desk beside him. She casually grabbed a piece of paper and a purple pencil. "Hi Seven." She greeted. She couldn't be caught using his real name, otherwise it could lead to trouble for both of them.

He didn't respond, instead he made another feeble attempt at picking up a blue pencil, barely registering that it too fell to the floor and began moving his hand as if he was colouring.

What did they do to him? She thought to herself. "Here, let me help you with that." Kali said, leaning over and retrieving some of the pencils that had fallen and placing them back in the cup.

Seven blinked but did not acknowledge her presence. She looked down at his arms and noticed the bandages that covered his inner elbows and wrists. They were drugging him. To make him forget. Her plan of slowly bringing him back wasn't going to work. She would have to find another way out of the lab. And unfortunately that meant that she couldn't take him or Eleven with her. Without his powers, there was no way she could risk escaping with all three of them.

She would have to go alone.

Chapter Text

Seven was led into the testing room and guided to a chair. The tingly, lightheaded feeling was beginning to wear off. He was able to focus more, remember more. According to Papa, he was sick, and needed treatment. He wouldn't tell him how he was sick, just treated him. Seven didn't feel sick, but he trusted Papa. Why would he lie?

Henry came into the room as the other orderlies had finished with the wrist straps on the chair. When Seven had asked what they were for, one of them gave him a small smile and replied, "To make sure you don't squirm, hon."

The others left the room as Henry rolled up his sleeves and pulled out to vials, as well as two needles and band-aids. "This will only hurt for a second, okay? Don't be afraid."

Seven was very afraid. He was used to needles, but that didn't make them any less scary. He inhaled sharply as the first prick went into his arm. Henry bandaged it and then sanitized the second injection site. "It will be over soon. Then you can go to the Rainbow Room, and I'll come get you for lunch. Doesn't that sound nice?" He asked, just before poking him with the other needle.

The effects were almost instantaneous. Seven barely had time to nod his head before the tingling returned. He didn't even feel it when Henry bandaged his arm. He didn't notice when the straps were loosened and he wasn't even aware the two of them had left the room until he turned his head and saw a bright rainbow on the wall beside him.

Slowly, he shuffled over to the first place he saw he could sit down.

Seven's hands felt numb. His head felt light and soft, and he couldn't concentrate on anything. He thought that Eight was next to him, but now he wasn't so sure. A garbled sound came from his left. What was that noise? He turned and saw a man. Did he know him? Where was he? Who was this man next to him? Did he know him?

"Seven." The man said, but it sounded like he was talking through cotton. "Can you hear me? It's just me. Henry, remember? It's time for you to eat, okay?" His words were soft and slow. They matched what Seven felt like.

The man smiled at him and took his hand, leading him out of...where ever they were and into a hallway.

He looked up and saw a man. Who was he? Did he know him? He was grabbing his hand, so maybe he did know him. Seven looked around and watched weird grey shapes walk past him. Were they people? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was hungry. Wasn't Henry supposed to get him for lunch?

They turned a corner into a room. The room had a bed and a desk with a tray on it. Suddenly he was on the bed, and there was food in front of him. A man gave him another piece of the food. Another? What happened to the first piece? Eventually he was no longer hungry. Then he was again. Another piece of food. Seven reached to grab it, but his hand passed right through it. No, that was wrong. He had smacked it to the floor by accident. Oops. That wouldn't make Henry happy.

Seven blinked and the man was gone. The tray was gone. He was in a bed. The bed was not soft. He got off the bed, but the floor was very cold. He didn't like the floor. Wasn't there anywhere else that wasn't the floor? He looked around. A bed! The bed was warmer than the floor, so he got on it. There was also a stuffed animal that was very soft. He grabbed it and hugged it to his chest.

He then layed down and stared up at the ceiling. Patterns swirled in front of him, painting the white canvas before his eyes and shifting like the kalediscopes in the Rainbow Room. He watched them dance and twirl. He laughed a little, then stopped abruptly. His body was suddenly overwhelmed with a tingling sensation. He felt himself floating, slipping and sliding away and around and back and forth. Then he was snapped back into place. That feeling was uncomfortable and he didn't like it nearly as much as he liked the floating. He sat up again, setting down Mr Bear.

After a while, some mental clarity was beginning to come back to him. Maybe it was because he had had so many injections, he was beginning to build a tolerance. He vaguely remembered someone saying that could happen before Papa said no.

His hands begin to float again, so he sat on them so they couldn't. Then, all of a sudden, the bright thing next to him turned off. It was dark. Everything was dark. He couldn't see anything.

He decided to lay down and think. But he couldn't think, because it was dark. So he closed his eyes, and then there was more dark. Eventually he fell asleep.

Then the lights turned on again and the door swung open and the man was there again. Henry. Who was the man again?

Henry walked over to him and helped him down from the bed. He took his hand and led him out of his room, even though Seven was tired. No more grey shapes were in the hallway. They were probably sleeping like Seven was.

Suddenly, Henry turned his head and began to talk to someone at the end of the hall. Seven turned his head too, but didn't see anyone there. Henry told him to stay put as he walked away to speak to the not-there person.

Just then, the door across from where Seven was clicked open, and Eight stood there. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. Into his ear she whispered only two words, "I'm sorry."

Then she ran down the hallway, past Henry and his imaginary friend, and out of sight.

The next day, Seven's treatment stopped. Papa told him he was better now, and that the illness was gone.

"What about Eight?" He asked. "Where is she?"

Papa and Henry shared a look before turning back to him. Henry gave him his best smile and asked, "Who?"

------

Kali had begun planning her escape ever since she had been kidnapped. She had an excellent memory, and she memorized every bump and turn she felt in the van as they drove her away. She knew the layout from the entrance to the Rainbow Room - the bigger one, that is. When she became aware of what her power was, she knew it would be useful in her escape. As they continued to train her, whenever they tortured her or she felt hopeless, all she had to do was remind herself that they were making her stronger. Plotting against themselves to aid in her escape.

Seeing Eleven struggle had been a bump in the road, but it was something she could handle with a little help. That's when she had begun searching the other's minds. None of them had their old memories except for one - Steve. His powers were strong too, he just didn't know it yet. When Papa had begun using her to strengthen his abilties, she saw it as the perfect opportunity. She could slowly help him regain his memory and get him to help her and Eleven escape in turn. But as clever as the thought she was being, Papa saw right through it. She knew she couldn't try again without exposing her plan.

After her interaction with Steve in the Rainbow Room, she made the hardest decision of her short life - to leave them behind. It hurt her, and she could barely stand the thought of leaving her brother and sister behind, but she didn't have a choice. It was now or never.

Kali looked side to side and when the coast was clear, she made a small rip on the inside of her gown, creating a small pocket that she stuffed with strips of ripped paper from the pile. She then walked away from the desk and played with the number drop game. She waited for the camera to turn away, then snuck one of the pucks into the pocket. After a few more minutes, she walked up to one of the orderlies. "May I use the toilet?"

The woman looked at her. "Now?"

Kali nodded, then shuffled her feet. "It's an emergency."

"Fine. Make it quick." The orderly guided her out of the Rainbow Room. They walked down the hallway and turned left, to the toilets. The woman stood outside the door and gestured Kali inside.

Kali concentrated. She went into the woman's mind and made her believe that she had gone into the bathroom. In reality, she stole her key ring, and projected the image and weight of them into her mind, making her believe the keys were still there. Then she actually went into the restroom and waited a few minutes before flushing and washing her hands. Then she walked back out, keys tucked into the pocket.

"All done?"

Kali nodded, and they walked back.

Later, they put everyone in their rooms for the night. She waited for what seemed like ages until the lights went out, and her plan was in action. She didn't have telekinesis, but she did have a throwing arm. She took the puck out of her pocket and threw it at the camera light. The sound of shattered glass filled her ears.

Then she threw off the covers and darted across the freezing cold floor to the door. Taking out the keys, she unlocked it and swung the door open. She took one step and then stopped.

Steve was standing outside of his room along with Henry, whose back was turned. Kali concentrated and imagined that a doctor was standing at the end of the hallway, calling Henry's name. She then closed her door behind her and snuck over to Steve.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. She wanted to explain herself, apologize, apologize for so many things. For leaving him behind. For freaking him out during the training. For making them drug him. For not spending enough time with him as she should have. For not being there for him, for Eleven.

But when she opened her mouth, it all fell away. The far off look in his eyes were still there. It wouldn't matter what she said, he wouldn't remember any of it, wouldn't understand. Instead, she hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

Then she ran down the hallway. She ran past Henry, down the hallways she had memorized so long ago. She couldn't use the elevator without notice, but she could follow the signs to the stairwells. She crashed into the bar and pushed the door open.

Quickly, she flew down flight after flight of stairs. She knew how many floors to the ground floor, so she didn't make the mistake of going to the basement.

She ran into the car park, her thin slippers cutting against the rocks. She felt blood begin to pool in them but kept running. Faintly she heard alarms from the lab, but they wouldn't be able to catch her. They wouldn't be able to see her. She was already worming her way into the minds of anyone who spotted her and tricking their brains into seeing nothing but thin air.

As she approached the gate, she convinced the guard that he was getting a radio to open it. The fence swung open and she darted through, down the road and into the woods.

She wiped the blood trail from her nose and kept running, not stopping until the sun began to rise, and the sounds of Hawkins Lab far behind her.

------

Seven knew that something was wrong. That there was something Papa wasn't telling him.

Eight existed. How else could there be Nine, Ten, and Eleven? Why were they saying otherwise?

It made him angry.

He also wasn't the only one who noticed her absence. Eleven had walked up to him at one point, laying against him as he flipped through a book on the floor. "Where is Eight?" She asked, her eyes staring up at him, hoping he would have all the answers.

Seven hated to disappoint her. "I don't know," he answered. But I wish I did.

She just seemed to nod at that, accepting the fact that their sister was gone, possibly forever. He didn't blame her for this, she was probably too young to understand it anyway. Too young to realize that Eight wasn't coming back, ever. Seven, on the other hand, understood just fine. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He seethed with silent rage. So much so that Ten turned to look at him, empathically aware of his anger. Seven looked away when they made eye contact and tried to think about something else.

He kept his eyes glued to his book. The letters swam around in his head, but the pictures were nice, so he looked at those instead. Suddenly a shadow loomed over him, blocking his light.

Papa stood in front of him. "Are you up for another lesson today, Seven?" He asked.

Seven nodded and closed the book. He scrambled to his feet and took Papa's hand. Together, the two of them walked out of the Rainbow Room, heading towards the testing area.

He hated that he was so compliant. That Papa could just ask and Seven would obey immediately, even though Papa was keeping things from him.

Sometimes, Papa lies.

He remembered the conversation between him and Eight from a few weeks before. They had just finished training, and they were sitting together in the Rainbow Room spinning tops.

"What?"

Eight reached over the table and grabbed the green top that had fallen right in front of him. She leaned in and whispered, "Papa doesn't always tell the truth. Like when he is away."

"He goes downstairs. He said he is planning what's best for us." Seven replied, twirling a blue one and watching it spin.

"No," she shook her head, "he actually goes home. I overheard him talking to Henry about it."

Seven just looked at her. "But...here is home."

The two of them spun their tops at the same time, watching them twirl and dance. Finally, Eight spoke.

"Nevermind. Just remember what I said, okay? Promise?"

Seven nodded.

He hadn't understood why she had been so insistent at the time, but now he understood. It was a warning. She knew how Papa would react to her leaving, and she wanted to make sure that Seven was aware of it too.

Papa lies.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed that they were already in the test room. The orderlies had already attached the net to his head and left. Papa wrote something in his notebook, then smiled at him.

"Alright Seven, today we're going to try something new. Are you ready? "

He nodded.

Papa slid a picture over to him. It was a picture of one of the doctors, Dr Ellis. "I want you to find her. Use the picture as your guide."

Seven placed his hand on the paper and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the image, letting it float around in his mind. It guided him through the Lab, drifting this way and that until it finally settled in a closed room. Dr Ellis sat there, talking.

"I found her," he said.

"Good, now tell me what she's saying," Papa's voice said, accompanied by the scratching of his pencil.

Listening carefully, he could just make out her words.

Pomegranate.

Mayonnaise.

Cathedral.

Seven vaguely heard a crackling sound, and her words became amplified.

Terrifying.

Iridescent.

Silky.

Mississippi.

Wish.

Neapolitan.

Mouse.

Balloon.

Airplane.

Apricot.

Dr Ellis began to repeat her words. Papa's voice told him that he could stop.

But Seven didn't want to stop. He felt his anger bubbling up again. He didn't want to just sit and listen to instructions, so he took matters into is own hands.

Moving away from Dr Ellis, he began to search for others in the building. He went for the first person he could think of. Henry. The image floated away from the room and began its hunt. It ducked through hallways and sifted past the doctors and orderlies. It ignored doors and made its way through ceilings until it finally reached its target in the Rainbow Room. The rest of his siblings were also in there. He focused on them all.

The conversations began to crackle and become clear in Seven's ears.

Taking Ten down to the-

It's my turn to-

Race your marble through the m-

"That's enough Seven, it's time to stop."

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall-

One, two, three, four-

"Seven! I said enough!"

May I go to the bath-

No fair! I wanted-

"Seven!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder harshly and he opened his eyes. Papa was angry. Really angry. "Why didn't you listen?" he hissed, eyes cold.

Seven tore the net off of his head and threw it to the ground. "Because you lie! Eight is real!"

Now he had done it. Papa made the circle motion with his hand. Orderlies stormed in as Papa let go of him, grabbing him by the arms and lifting him into the air. Seven kicked and screamed and fought. He expected to be taken to the Small Room. Instead, they turned left and took him to a windowless room. A chair stood in the middle of it, surrounded by weird machines that Seven had never seen before.

The orderlies pushed him into the chair and began to strap the restraints on him. He kicked and cried, trying to escape. His wrist was pinned down but he quickly squirmed out of the grip. He shot out his free hand and pushed. His ears roared as the orderly flew backwards and smacked against the far wall.

A pinch in the back of his neck made him loose all sense of fight that he had in him.

Something was attached to his head in his disoriented state. Papa stood in front of him, dissapointment on his face. "I was hoping you wouldn't make me do this Seven, but I'm left with no other choice." He turned and nodded to the orderly. "I promise it's for your own good."

Suddenly every part of Seven was on fire. A prickling sensation racked his body and he jerked under his restraints. His head flew to one side, then the other.

There is no Eight. A voice said to him.

Yes, there is, he thought back.

At that, the sensations became worse. Pain was the only thing he felt. His teeth buzzed.

THERE IS NO EIGHT

THERE IS NO EIGHT

THERE IS NO EIGHT

THERE IS NO EIGHT

THERE IS NO EIGHT

...

. . .

. . .

There is no Eight.

The pain was gone.

Darkness took over, and then there was nothing.

------

Henry stood outside of Seven's room. The boy was asleep, recovering from his electroshock.

"Are you sure this is necessary? I mean, he was already electrocuted, why more? Why take this away from him? It's harmless," he asked the older man.

Papa shook his head. "It's harming his abilities. The childish attachment he has to that thing is too strong. It's a weakness that is hindering his growth."

"But-"

"What did I just say, One? Question me? Challenge my authority? No! Throw it away! And if you don't do as your told, maybe I'll give you the same treatment that Seven recieved today." He then began to walk away, dismissing him to his task.

Henry swallowed but did not allow Papa to get a rise out of him. "Yes, Sir." He spat, allowing all of his venom to leak into his voice.

Papa turned around and walked back, slowly. Henry stomped on his fear. He was stronger than the other man, but with his control chip, he was just as powerless as the other numbers.

"What was that?"

One took a slow, deep breath. He was careful to exhale soft enough that it wouldn't sound like a sigh.

"Yes, Papa." He corrected, in the most even tone he could manage.

"Thank you." The man whispered, before walking down the hall, around the corner and out of sight.

Henry stared at the object in his hands. Then he quickly regained his composure and made his way through the Lab to the incinerator. The heat was intense, and he had to hold a hand up in front of his face in order to deflect it away. Hurriedly, he tossed the thing in.

He left the room quickly, not bothering to watch as Mr Bear went up in flames.

Chapter Text

September 4, 1974

Seven woke up in his bed. The lights were still off, but he found himself unable to go back to sleep. Instead, he decided to get up and pace the perimeter of his room. The floor was freezing, as always, but it felt nice against the soles of his feet.

He didn't know how long he paced for, but it was long enough for him to hear the clunk, clump of the lights switching on.

The door handle rattled and Papa came into his room. "Good morning Seven. I see you are already awake, that's good. How are you feeling?"

Seven almost shrugged but managed to stop himself before completing the motion. "Okay." It was the truth. Lying was wrong. But why did his answer feel wrong?

"Today, we are doing something different. Are you feeling up to it, Seven?"

Papa didn't like when he said no, so he nodded yes.

"Good." The man smiled at him and patted his back. He kept his hand there and led the two of them out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. Papa guided him through the hallways he had walked down several times before. Past his own door, 7, then 9, 10, 11, 12, and more. Usually lessons didn't start until 10, so no one was in the testing rooms except for a few of the doctors who acknowledged him as he passed with a slight nod, if at all.

They turned a corner and went down another hallway to the elevator. Papa swiped his card across a little box that flashed. The elevator door then clanged and slowly opened, allowing them inside. Stepping on, Papa pushed two buttons and then the door closed again.

When they reached their floor, they stepped off and marched down two more hallways before coming to a small room with no windows, only two doors. One to enter, the other to exit. The room was empty except for a rack that had one hanger. A strange-looking suit was hanging from it, all white with little rectangles jutting out from it. At the sight of it, Seven couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

"What is that?"

"This..." Papa began, leading him over to the rack, "is what is going to help you reach the next steps in your potential."

Orderlies came in as Papa stepped out, helping Seven change into the strange new suit. Then they guided him through the exit door into a much larger room. His jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw it. He had never been in such a large room, and had never seen anything like what he was looking at right then.

To the left were stairs that led up to a door, and when he took a few steps forward, he could see a big window that displayed a room behind it filled with machines and doctors busily working. To the right was a different set of stairs that led up to a catwalk, which then led to a huge tank filled to the top with water. He was marveling at all of this when he suddenly bumped into someone standing in front of him. It was Papa.

"Are you ready?" He asked, offering his hand.

Seven took it.

The two of them slowly began walking up the steps towards the tank. The stairs were cool under his feet, and moisture hung in the air accompanied by a faint salty smell that burned into his nose.

As they got closer, he saw more orderlies waiting for them. One held the weirdest looking contraption he had ever seen in his life, and he had seen a lot. When the woman saw Seven's face, she explained that it was to help him breathe. The other orderly waiting by a swing, which was hanging over the entrance of the tank.

Suddenly he put two and two together and began to clamber backwards, heels slipping in his eagerness to get away from the water. Instead, the hand that was still holding onto Papa's became the pitfall of his escape and he ran directly into the man's stomach. Strong arms gripped him as Papa knelt down to his eye level.

"I know you're scared Seven, but don't worry. It's perfectly safe. All of your older brothers and sisters have gone in. Now it's your turn."

Seven took a glace over his shoulder and swallowed nervously. The added weight from the suit made him feel like he was being dragged to the floor, freezing him into place. He turned back to Papa.

"Do you trust me?"

Seven just stared.

"Do you trust me, Seven?" Papa repeated.

"Yes, Papa."

The man smiled at him, gently stroking the boy's forehead before standing back up to full height. "Good. Now, you're going to be lowered into the water, and then it's going to get dark. But don't worry, we will all be very close by. Nothing will happen to you."

A net was placed onto his head. Orderlies helped him onto the swing. It began to lower into the water, and Seven held on with a white-knuckled grip. A clanking noise echoed through the room as the water got closer and closer. The breathing device was placed over his head.

Seven's spine shivered as the water rose higher and higher above him as he sank lower and lower. Eventually he was completely submerged. He took a step off of the swing and began to float around in the tank. It was actually quite...peaceful. The swing was now gone and the lid on the top of the tank swung closed. Papa stood in front of him through the window. Seven put his hand against the glass before something covered it, sealing him away from all light, sound, and everything else.

He was alone.

Papa's voice flooded into his mind.

Can you hear me Seven?

"Yes."

That's good. Now, relax. Find the energy and focus on it. Let me know when you see it.

"See what?" He asked.

You'll see

Even though it was dark already, Seven closed his eyes.

He opened them.

Darkness surrounded him, going on for ages in every direction with nothing else in sight. White light illuminated him and him only, everything else was lost in the void. A thin later of water surrounded his feet, making a light splashing noise every time he took a step.

"I see it."

Wonderful, Seven. Now tell me, can you find Dr Brown?

In his mind, he went back to the day that Papa had him find Dr Ellis. He used the same strategy he used then, this time also keeping his focus he had on the energy he used to be in the Void.

An image appeared before him. Unlike when he found Ellis, only certain objects in the room appeared alongside Dr Brown himself. A clock floated in the air as if hung to a wall. A door attached to nothing stood behind the doctor, who sat as his desk in the middle of nowhere.

"I found him."

What is he doing?

"He's writing... about something called a Day-lore-ee-an?"

...I'll have to check on him later. What else do you see?

"A clock...his desk, his bookshelf, some more papers on the wall."

Very interesting.

A chittering sound came from behind Seven. The image of Dr Brown faded, evaporating like smoke. Seven turned towards the sound and saw a pale figure in the distance. He swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do.

Seven, what do you see? Papa's voice echoed.

"I don't know."

Find it, Seven. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you.

Seven didn't want to find it. He wanted out. Tears formed in his eyes as he took a shuddering breath. He took a step towards it. Then another. Everything was in slow motion. The water lapped around his feet, neither hot nor cold. His body felt shaky. His palms began to sweat, but he wasn't sure if they were sweating, or if they felt that way because he was underwater.

Don't be afraid. Describe it to me.

The figure was starting to come into view. It was hunched over, pale and sickly looking. Black goo was splattered across it, covering its hands and face. He repeated all of this out loud.

Good, what else?

Horrible, gross sounds came from the figure, crunching and gushing at the same time. Seven wanted to cover his ears, but he knew Papa wouldn't approve. Instead, he tried to get a look at its face.

Then, in one quick, terrifying moment, the creature turned to him.

And it had no face at all. At least, until it opened its mouth.

Seven stood there frozen as it stood to its full height, towering above him. It took one, two, three steps forward. It extended its claws and roared, revealing a flower shaped mouth full of rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Seven screamed.

He screamed even as the image faded away. He screamed as the orderlies fished him out of the tank, hurriedly throwing off his breathing device and net. He screamed as they dragged him away from the opening into the windowless room. He screamed as they loaded him onto a stretcher, rushing him to the infirmary. He screamed when they injected him with a needle. He screamed as they placed two paddles on him, yelling something he couldn't quite hear before he was hit with the familiar feeling of electricity coursing through his body, causing him to jerk and lash out, being pushed up by the chest before being slammed back down again by gravity.

Only hours later when he was laying in his cot did he realize that once he had been taken out of the tank, he hadn't been screaming.

He was dying. And they brought him back.

------

Eleven knew something wasn't right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She loved hanging out with Seven and Eight. They were always nice to her, unlike some of the others. Nine and Ten were okay, but mostly kept to themselves. Ten explained that he kept his distance because "Other people's emotions...they can be a lot. But less so from a distance."

Nine gave no explanation, but when Eleven accidentally knocked over a stack of blocks, she helped her clean them up without a word.

Seven protected her. Whenever Two and the older kids would bully her, he always stepped in to help. Most of the time he would lose the fight, or get in trouble, or both, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Eight taught her how to read. Their progress was slow at first, but over time Eleven felt like she was getting the hang of it. Long sentences were still hard, but she knew the alphabet and all the sounds they made. She knew that words like cat and hat rhymed. The long version of her name was tricky, so for now she stuck with the 11 that matched the one on her wrist.

She wished Eight was still around to keep teaching her. Seven tried his best, but Eleven wasn't sure if he knew how to read either. He had to sound out everything, and whenever he got mixed up (which was often) he got frustrated and suggested they colour instead. She always accepted. She liked colouring better anyway.

But it would be nice to read as well. If she knew how to read, maybe she could teach Seven too.

Speaking of which, where was Seven?

Eleven turned away from her drawing. She was currently colouring at one of the desks in the Rainbow Room, sitting on her knees so she could reach the pencils easier. Normally Seven would have joined her by now, but he hadn't.

She set down her green pencil and turned so she was on her stomach. Sliding off the chair, she made her way over to an orderly. Henry, maybe? She wasn't sure.

"Where is Seven?"

Maybe-Henry looked at her. "I'm not sure. Why do you want to know?"

"Colour." She pointed to the desks.

"Ah," he said, his gaze following the direction she was pointing. "Well I guess we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

Eleven's brows furrowed in confusion. "But, where is he now?"

"I don't know, but I have an idea." He said, crouching down to meet her eye level. "Why don't you draw him a picture for when he gets back?"

She considered this for a moment. "Okay."

Henry nodded and stood back up. Eleven returned to her desk and grabbed a new paper, pushing aside the old drawing of her and Papa.

She grabbed a blue pencil and a red one and began to scribble.

As she continued to colour, she ignored everything behind her. She didn't notice Henry's frown, or how he traded posts with another orderly before exiting the Rainbow Room in a hurry, the door clicking shut behind him.

------

Seven was in and out of consciousness for a while, but he didn't know how long.

Sometimes when he woke up, an orderly was feeding him. Other times he would be alone. He could hear the beeping of the heart beat monitor when he was both awake and asleep, which just made it harder to tell the difference.

A downside of remote viewing abilities was that his mind could wander all on its own, floating through the hallways of the Lab. He heard pieces of conversations, shuffling papers, footsteps, and an endless amount of noise from all the machines. It was all abruptly cut off whenever he lost or gained focus, or whenever he transitioned from awake to asleep and vis versa.

His body felt hazy and feverish. He had thrown up a few times, and his stomach felt sour because of it. He felt wrapped in plastic, like everything else was trying to reach him but couldn't because of all of the barriers surrounding him, cutting him off from everyone and thing.

He couldn't stand or even sit up without becoming dizzy. Strange images flashed in his mind, ones of a large house and a woman and a man. Maybe a dog, too - but he wasn't sure. There was a pool, but anytime he tried to swim it turned into the tank, trapping him with the monster. He would suddenly wake up in cold sweats, unaware that he had even been dreaming at all. His palms were clammy and he shook like a leaf, all while drenched in sweat. His throat couldn't get enough water but his stomach couldn't keep it down.

Papa visited him at one point, placing the back of his hand on Seven's forehead. He then retracted it and pulled out a handkerchief, rubbing it between his fingers and across the area that had touched the boy's skin.

When Seven woke up again, Papa was gone.

Seven's body ached with chills. The ceiling spun and whenever he opened his eyes they welled up with tears. Overall, Steve was not doing well.

Steve?

Steve, can you hear me?

That wasn't right.

Do you see the house? That's where you live. That's where you were taken from.

Images flashed in his mind. Words. Strange memories. Weird names. Unfamiliar faces.

Maybe they were familiar? He wasn't sure.

Time was slow. Everything felt like he was trying to run underwater. Minutes that passed by felt like hours in his feverish haze.

Sometimes he felt better. Other times he felt much worse. The in-between was the worst of it all, not knowing which way he would swing next.

Finally, he fell asleep. And in his sleep, his powers began to work on their own.

------

Seven saw an empty room within the lab. It was white and bare, and it reminded him of his own room.

Suddenly a resounding bang! filled his ears, directing his attention towards the door. Two guards entered and parted from each other, standing on either side of the entryway while two more men, orderlies, came in behind them. They were dragging along someone with all white clothes and a familiar mop of blonde hair. They marched to the middle of the room and dumped their cargo in a heap on the floor, then turned and faced the direction they had came. Their faces were stone and they remained motionless as they awaited their orders.

Finally, Papa stepped in the room. One of the guards closed the door behind him. The hard metallic click indicated the lock being turned.

"First, you let Eight escape. Then, you question me. And now, you have disobeyed me yet again."

Henry slowly pushed himself up to face the man. He was sweaty and pale, and the area around is right eye was bruised and bloody. When he turned upright, his head swayed from side to side. His eyes didn't blink at the same time. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Papa glared at the younger man. The orderly to Henry's left punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over in pain. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he swallowed hard and said, "I'm telling the truth. I didn't let Eight escape, I was giving Seven his next dose and she tricked me into thinking Doctor Ellis was there."

"Or-" Papa began, slowly making his way around the room. "-you knew that we would check the tapes, and hoping that we would fall for your lies, pretended that you were seeing one of Eight's illusions."

Henry was struck again. "I really did see Doctor Ellis, I swear!"

Papa's mouth became a hard, thin line. Seven could tell that he didn't believe Henry's words.

"I can see you're not yet willing to tell the truth about Eight's escape. Let's change the subject, shall we? You questioned my orders. Why?"

"I don't see how that's relevant."

This time, instead of a punch to the stomach, one of the guards came forward and poked their stick into Henry's side. The man screamed in agony. Blue light flashed across the room, creating dancing shadows casted by the men. Henry writhed on the ground. Papa only watched.

"Again."

The stick was pulled back and then pushed forwards just as quickly. A horrible shriek tore from Henry's throat. Seven covered his incorporeal ears to block out the sound. It didn't work.

After it was over, light whisps of smoke curled off of Henry's shirt. He laid there, motionless on the ground. In seven slow steps, Papa walked over to him and crouched down, placing to fingers on Henry's neck.

"He's alive."

Then he leaned in closer, holding open one of Henry's eyelids with his finger and whispered in his ear, "Know your place, One. I control you all."

Papa then brushed the non-existent dust off of his knees and stood, walking towards the door. "Make sure his injuries are treated in a timely manner. The last thing I need are more numbers asking questions."

The door shut behind him.

Seven's dream began to fade, ending with Henry being dragged out of the empty room.

Over the next few days, his condition began to improve. He didn't see Henry during that time, but after another week the man returned to his post as if nothing had happened. Seven thought back to his dream, and then would look at Henry's face and gait, searching for any sign of injury.

He didn't find any. He began to wonder if it really was just a dream after all.

Chapter Text

September 4, 1974

"Find it, Seven. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you."

Brenner took his finger off the intercom. He and all the others held their collective breath. They watched the camera feed and listened to the sound of Seven's breathing. The speakers crackled to life, emitting a strange chittering sound. It certainly wasn't human.

"Don't be afraid. Describe it to me."

Its...white. And big. And there's black stuff around it. Seven's voice nervously reported over the intercom.

"Good, what else?"

Um...

A more grotesque sound came over the intercom. Crunching, gushing, and more chittering sounds.

Seven screamed.

Brenner turned to his staff, who all just stood around listening. Motionless.

"Well?" He shouted, turning his attention to the orderlies. "Go get him out!"

The men snapped out of their trance and sprang into action. All of them, including Brenner, were outside of the room in a matter of seconds. Two of the orderlies had already opened the hatch and were pulling Seven out of the water.

"He's not breathing."

"Pulse is weak."

"Remove the monitoring equipment, we need CPR."

In a matter of minutes, Seven was escorted out of the room and taken to the medical wing, leaving Brenner standing alone on the platform above the tank.

He slowly made his way over to the entrance, watching as the last ripples in the water smoothed out. His own reflection stared back at him, wobbling a little. Whatever Seven had seen, it was the same as the others. Four, Five and Six had all shared similar experiences, albeit not to the same extreme. Something powerful was making contact with the subjects.

All Brenner needed to do was boost the signal.

He quickly made his way out of the room and up to his office, trying to come up with a plan. Ever since the training sessions with Eight, Seven's abilities had improved considerably. But now that she was gone, he needed something else.

Brenner spent hours in his office trying to come up with any ideas, but eventually he came up with none. After 5 o'clock came and went, he decided it was finally time to head home. He nodded to the security officer in the lobby as he walked out the front entrance. The wind had picked up and rain pounded against the asphalt. He fumbled with his keys for a moment or two until he finally found the right one and unlocked his car.

He drove home in silence. Rain obscured his windshield. Wind threatened to blow him off the road if he wasn't careful. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, temporarily blinding him at times. At one point he hydroplaned, sliding back and forth until he finally managed to regain control. By the time he got to his driveway, he could barely make out what was even five feet ahead of him it was raining so hard.

After getting inside and completing his nightly routine, he headed to bed, hair still wet from the downpour outside. Branches from nearby trees scraped against the windows, making a horrible racket.

He laid in bed for a while, contemplating his current dilemma of whether or not he'd get any sleep as well as how to regain Seven's strength. Finally, the solution hit him. He needed to get Eight back, and to do that, he'd need to interrogate the last person who saw her.

One.

------

October 12, 1974

Seven sat in the corner of his room, holding his legs in his arms as he rocked back and forth. Training hadn't gone well. Papa had been upset.

Not only was he unable to do well in his tests, but he wasn't able to sleep at night. Nightmare after nightmare kept him awake, pulling him between being attacked by the monster he had seen in the Bath and a strange house with people who called him "Steven". It left him exhausted in the mornings and unable to focus.

Papa told him that he had to stay in his room for the rest of the day, with no Rainbow Room and no food.

His stomach growled and hunger gripped him with painful claws that dug into his abdomen, reminding him that the only thing he had eaten in the past three days was a piece of bread. Papa said the hunger would help, but for once Seven didn't think he was right. If anything, it was even harder to focus on anything that wasn't food, or rather the lack of it. He shivered in his cold room. Eventually he decided to just go to bed and try to sleep. Lights out was still hours away, but at least his bed would be warmer than the tile floor.

Once again, his mind wandered.

He floated away from his body, this time in less of a haze then before.

Hallways twisted and turned as scientists, doctors, and orderlies bustled past him, unaware of his presence.

Then he heard it. Papa was talking to someone who was not happy.

"-he's getting worse. There hasn't been improvement in weeks. In fact, he's regressing."

Seven drifted closer to the door.

"I assure you, I-"

"Don't you dare say you have it under control, Martin. He's called himself Steven. And you've seen the tapes, he's crying out for his parents in his sleep. If he continues to remember, it could mean disaster. The other children could follow suit and escape, and then we'd have twelve highly dangerous assets roaming around Indiana with no way to control them. We need to get rid of him."

"But he could solve our problem. Eleven isn't strong enough to keep up with our timeline. If I could just-"

"No. I've been lenient enough about the matter for far too long. You have two days. Either you get rid of him, or I will."

"Fine, Sam. But you'll pay for this."

Footsteps approached him. As the door swung open, his projection vanished.

------

Seven blinked, and suddenly he was in his room again. He held a hand up to his nose, and when he pulled it away there was sticky red blood trickling down his fingers. He looked down and saw more red staining his pillow.

Wiping his hand on his gown, he began to think. Two days wasn't a lot of time for a plan. He would have to think of something, carefully and quickly.

Luckily, he didn't have to.

Long after lights out, Seven was still awake, pacing around his room while trying to formulate a means of escape. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching his door. In two long strides he dove onto his cot and pulled the covers up over his shoulder in the nick of time. The door creaked open, and Seven concentrated on breathing as evenly as possible. His heart was beating so loud he thought it would betray him to whoever had entered his room.

The cot creaked under the weight of someone sitting on it. Hot breath tickled his ear as a voice whispered, "Seven."

Seven slowly turned and blinked at the source, acting as though he had just been woken up. "Henry?" He asked, more out of surprise than acknowledgement. Well well, someone's a sleepyhead this morning

"Shh, don't say anything. I'm going to get you out of here, and back to your parents."

"My parents? They're real?" Seven asked rather loudly.

Henry shushed him but nodded. "Yes, but we have to hurry. The cameras won't stay off for long."

"Ok." Seven pulled back the sheets and swung his legs over the side. Henry picked him up and set him on the ground beside him before grabbed his hand.

"Are you ready?"

Seven hesitated. He couldn't abandon Eleven, not after the way Eight had left. Who's Eight? "Can Eleven come too?"

Henry shook his head. "No, Papa said-" he cut himself off before starting again. "No. But if we hurry, you can see her before we go. Understood?"

Seven nodded.

They went to the door and Henry stuck his head out, swiveling it side to side to make sure the coast was clear. "Alright, let's go."

The two of them made their way down the hall as quickly as they could, running on tiptoes to make the least amount of noise possible. Seven watched as he passed by all the doors.

6

8

9

10

11

An odd sense of deja vu flashed momentarily in his mind.

They came to a stop at the last one. Henry let go of his hand to grab to the keycard clipped to his belt. He swiped the handle and the locked clicked, allowing the door to slowly creak open.

Let me out! LET ME OUT! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!

"You have one minute." He said.

Seven crept inside, making his way into the narrow room to his sister's cot. The room was smaller than his own, but otherwise exactly the same. White, white, white. A closet sat in the corner, along with a desk. Above her bed there were two pictures taped to the wall. One was of her and Papa. The other was of Eleven and himself. There used to be a third drawing, he knew that, but it had someone else...

"Eleven."

She stirred immediately, flipping to her right side so she was facing him. "Seven?"

He walked up to her. "I'm sorry." He said. "I have to go now, and I won't be coming back. I wish I could take you with me."

Eleven looked at him with her big brown eyes. They had too much sadness in them. He hated this. He didn't want to leave her. "Where are you going?"

"Far away. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

Eleven was crying now. She got out of her bed and hugged his waist. "Take me with you."

He hugged her back, his arms curled protectively around her head. "I can't." He pulled his arms away, resting his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her off.

After what seemed like forever, she finally let go, retreating back to her bed. She understood what was happening more than she should have. But he was greatful she wasn't putting up a fight. He turned to leave.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked.

Seven froze, his hand hovering over the door handle. The truth was that he didn't know. Not only did he not know if they would see each other, but he didn't know where he was going. He didn't know how to stay strong long enough to give her an answer. To make it out of the Lab. To use his powers. To remember his parents, or even his own name. His real name. Everything was a jumble in his head, and he didn't know how to make heads or tails of any of it. The only thing he knew was that he had to try.

He turned. "One day. I promise." He said. Even with his memories in a complete mess, he would hold onto her. For her. For Eight. For the three of them. "Until then, don't..." he searched for the right thing to say. "...don't forget about me."

Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.