Chapter Text
As awareness slowly dawned on him, there were only four things that he knew for certain...
1: He had a horrible headache.
2: He was currently lying on a cold, hard surface that was doing nothing to help said headache.
3: He had absolutely no idea how numbers 1 or 2 had come about.
And 4: He had the distinct impression that number 3 should distress him a lot more than it currently did.
If he was being perfectly honest, he felt no desire to move or even think too much, in the hope that maybe if he kept perfectly still, his head would stop aching. Or maybe he’d even fall back into the blissful darkness that he’d just emerged from. It certainly sounded more appealing than reality.
But consciousness was rapidly reasserting itself now, his mind clearing as the fog of sleep dissipated, and he could hear movement somewhere nearby.
This sound jolted him fully awake, and his mind sharpened abruptly as he forced his eyes open, unable to hold back a gasp of pain and alarm as this simple movement triggered another wave of pain. Groaning, he clutched at his head, trying to remember why it was hurting so much.
And, frighteningly, coming up with nothing.
“Hello,” an unfamiliar voice came from somewhere to his right, and he stiffened. Keenly on his guard, he struggled to raise himself up and looked around for the speaker.
It took a moment for his vision to clear, but then he saw a man sitting against the opposite wall.
“Where am I?” he demanded of the man, struggling to make out his features in the dim light of the unfamiliar room. His voice sounded shakier than he would have liked, but at least he was managing to sit up, in spite of the headache that still pounded away at his skull. “What happened?”
“No idea,” came the infuriating response.
The speaker moved closer, and he could see that the man possessed humanoid features, which were currently studying him with an expression of sympathy and curiosity. He’d never seen this man before in his life.
“Who are you?” he demanded, and the other man raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting question. But an even more interesting question is…who are you?”
This seemed like a strange sort of inquiry, and he opened his mouth to reply. Then he stopped, his hearts beginning to pound harder than ever, as he realized that he couldn’t answer the question.
When he reached for his identity, he came up with nothing but a terrifying blank. No name…no identification…nothing…
“I…”
His mind was racing, desperately scrambling to fill in the blanks that he knew should not exist. As if the man’s question had opened a floodgate of mental activity, he felt an almost paralyzing panic surging up in him as question after question was left unanswered. Desperately seeking answers, wracking his thoughts for any ray of light that might illuminate the ever-growing mystery that was surrounding him. As though his brain were scrambling for a foothold, but was unable to find one. The more he reached out for information, the more he realized that he had nothing. Not only did he not know how he’d gotten into this dark room…he had no memory of any time before he’d awakened in here. It was as though his existence had begun at that moment…
“What’s happened to me?” he cried, struggling to keep calm even as he felt himself beginning to lose his battle with utter panic.
He backed away from the other man as the true enormity of the situation struck home. As he realized just how much he'd lost. He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out all other stimulus, trying to remember something…anything…
“Breathe,” the man’s voice urged, suddenly frighteningly close, and he felt an unexpected touch on his arm.
He recoiled, painfully aware of just how vulnerable he was right now. He had no way of knowing who this man was or whether he was to be trusted. For all he knew, he could be an enemy. Could be the person responsible for what was happening to him…he just didn’t know…and that terrified him.
“Try to calm down,” the man continued. “Trust me, you’re not going to help anything by panicking.”
He locked eyes with the other man, desperation for answers winning out over his fear.
“Please,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice from shaking as much as he was on the inside. He felt utterly defenseless, and as exposed as if he were unclothed. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know,” the man replied grimly. He put his hand on his shoulder, this time making sure he saw him coming. His touch was unfamiliar, but then again, so was everything else. “I woke up here a little while ago, same as you. No memory.”
He gave a wry sort of smile.
“If it makes you feel better, you’re taking it better than I did.”
“But…” he fought for coherence. He didn’t understand…what was going on?
He found himself scanning the room frantically, as though his brain were scrambling to take in as much information about the unfamiliar setting as possible, to compensate for his utter lack of knowledge. As he did, his eyes lighted on something he’d missed up until now, probably due in part to its complete lack of motion.
Another body lay sprawled against the opposite wall, in a similar manner to how he’d awakened.
“Another?” he asked, looking to the other man for confirmation.
He still didn’t trust the other man completely, couldn’t afford to, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford to refuse information. He needed all the knowledge he could get if he wanted to avoid being utterly in the dark. His mind was still struggling against the terrifying emptiness that greeted him whenever he reached for memory or identity, but he forced it into submission for the moment, focusing on the motionless occupant of the room.
As he moved closer, his head throbbed again, reminding him that it was still in severe distress and not at all pleased about the situation, and he drove the heel of his hand into his forehead, trying to drive out the pain. His stomach churned threateningly.
“It’ll pass,” the other man told him. “Try to avoid throwing up, if you can.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
“Good to know. I know I almost did, when I woke up. But as far as we can tell, we don’t have any food, so emptying your stomach would not be advisable.”
“We?” he couldn’t help but pick up on the word usage.
As he did, he studied the other motionless form. He was humanoid, like the other man, though upon closer inspection, he appeared a few years younger, and his hair was blond instead of the dark of the man he’d awakened to. He didn’t recognize this man either, though he was beginning to realize that this wasn’t an indication of anything useful, considering he didn’t even know his own name.
Before the other man could answer, there was movement from beyond the room, and another form appeared in the doorway that he’d only just noticed.
“They awake?” a deep voice demanded.
“One of them,” the other man replied.
“Which one?”
“Ten,” the other man replied, and he looked from one man to the other, utterly baffled as to the significance of this number, but uncertain as to whether he should speak up and ask just now.
The newcomer approached him and stared down at him with an unreadable expression on his face, which was humanoid, like the others. He tried not to look away from the scrutiny, though it was difficult.
“Who are you?” the newcomer demanded.
“I don’t know,” he was forced to admit, hating every moment of it.
“How did you get here?”
“I don’t know!”
“Do you remember anything?”
“No!”
“Are you sure?”
“Look at him!” the man who’d been in here when he’d first awakened spoke up, shooting the other man an exasperated look. “It’s obvious he doesn’t know any more than we do!”
Gratitude towards him filled his hearts. As far as his memories and experiences were concerned, it was the first time anyone had ever interceded on his behalf before, and he appreciated it, even as he reminded himself not to let his guard fully down.
Everyone looked at each other for a moment, and then the newcomer shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said, and he actually did sound a little apologetic. “Can’t blame me for asking.”
“So…” he ventured. “I guess it’s safe to assume you don’t remember anything either?”
“Not a thing before I woke up here. None of us do, so far.”
“Oh.”
He tried not to feel disappointed, but his mind was still scrambling for any answer it could find, and the lack of information grated at him. It felt as though part of his brain had been hollowed out, leaving only an emptiness that felt utterly abhorrent. However, he didn’t want to risk upsetting anyone until he knew more about the kind of risks he might be taking. After all, he had no idea who he was dealing with. Especially with regards to himself.
“Why did you call me Ten?”
The newcomer looked to the other man with an incredulous look.
“You haven’t told him about the numbers yet?”
“He just woke up! Excuse me if I haven’t perfected this explanation yet...it’s not exactly the kind of thing you have to explain every day!”
“Well…” he couldn’t help but interject, drawing both men’s gazes, “…for all we know, it might be.”
The first man actually laughed, and the sound made a welcome change to the dim and frightening nature of this unknown place.
“See,” he said, with a pointed glance at the newcomer. “He actually has a sense of humor about it.”
“Excuse me if I don’t find this funny,” the other retorted.
A sense of humor? Did he have a sense of humor? He didn’t know…he hadn’t truly intended to say something funny. He was just trying to keep a level head in the face of this tempestuous situation. He honestly didn't know anything about himself…but he supposed there were worse character traits to display.
The first man merely shook his head and moved to check on their unconscious companion, who hadn’t stirred. So he turned his attention to the other one, the newcomer.
“So…what numbers?”
The newcomer sighed and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying his shoulder.
“See?”
Looking closer, he was a bit surprised to see a number tattooed on the man’s shoulder. The number “6.”
“What does it…” he cut himself off, realizing what their answer would be even before he completed the question. He had more questions than he knew what to do with, more manifesting with each moment, but he was beginning to realize that the other people here weren’t going to be able to give him much more information than they already had.
It was only then that he became aware of the fact that his own shoulder ached. Up until now, the pain in his head had been so all-encompassing that it drowned out any other, but now he realized that there were several other aching parts of his body, in addition to his headache. Namely, the nape of his neck, and his right shoulder.
Ignoring his neck for the moment, he reached up to push back his own sleeve, trying not to shiver at the sight of utterly unfamiliar hands doing his bidding. Trying to ignore the fact that he was seeing his body for the first time.
Sure enough, there was a number there as well. Judging from the fact that it was still painful to the touch, it was new. He gently traced the inked lines, outlining the number that was tattooed there.
The number “10.”
This was proof, he realized. Proof that he had had a life before he awakened here. Someone had put this number on him. Someone had numbered them, deliberately. This wasn’t an accident, or a coincidence. There was a kind of order to this. Someone had done this to them.
He looked up, and saw both men watching his reaction with interest.
“Are we all numbered?”
“Yes,” the first man nodded. He pointed to the newcomer. “Six.”
He turned and gestured to the door that the newcomer had come through. “Seven’s out there somewhere. He woke up not long before you, so he’s probably still processing.”
He pointed to his own shoulder. “Eight.”
Indicating the unconscious man. “Nine.”
Lastly, his finger settled on him. “Ten.”
So there were five of them here? Numbered six through ten? That didn’t make sense…
“What about one through five?”
“No clue,” the man with the number six said.
“But why would someone number us?” He touched his tattoo again, wincing at the sensitive skin. He couldn’t help but wonder what was causing his neck to ache too. He was beginning to exhaust himself with the sheer number of questions he had. The sheer scope of the unknown…
“Impossible to tell,” the man with the six tattoo shrugged. “But it’s a safe bet that it’s not a coincidence that we all have them. And considering they’re all we’ve got to distinguish ourselves right now, we might as well use them as identification.”
“It was Six’s idea,” said the man who apparently was known as Eight.
“We have to call ourselves something, or it’ll just be confusing!” Six informed him.
Ten.
He looked down at the tattoo again, and frowned. Ten wasn’t a name. It wasn’t an identity. It was a number, nothing more. Just a number, marking him as one of a group. It meant nothing to him. It was not a name.
But it was all he had. The only thing that was his, as opposed to theirs. An identifying feature. He had nothing right now. No name, no memory, no past, no idea of what was happening, what had happened, or what was going to happen. But he did have that number. And even as he battled his distaste at the form of identification, he felt his mind desperately seizing hold of the name, frantic to fill in even one of the innumerable gaps.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He needed to call himself something, if even just for the time being. Being called a number might be bad…but being nameless was worse. A thousand times worse…
He turned the number over in his mind.
Ten. I am Ten.
But who was Ten?