Chapter Text
The room was silent apart from Oli's quiet humming, a fact that did little to help quell the nerves trying to get the better of him. He sat in the large metal chair in Dr. Sanderson's office, trying to stay still as Miss Ameila wiped down his arm. His body ached to move, the lack of motion causing an ugly twist of anxiety to curl up inside his chest. Still, Oli didn't move a muscle. Hyperactivity wasn't something Miss Ameila appreciated, and displeasing the person preparing to give him his morning calorie intake wasn't a smart move.
Miss Amelia grabs the large syringe that held Oli's supplements. She offers him a calm smile, looking pleased by his compliance. It made the awful swirling in Oli's gut die down.
“What’s that you're humming, Oli?” Miss Amelia asks, looking curious instead of annoyed.
Feeling reassured by her good mood, Oli responds with a careful smile. “My handler let me listen to a few songs from his playlist yesterday.”
Miss Amelia nods, putting a clean needle into the syringe before pressing it to Oli's upper arm where countless small purple marks already paint his skin. “That was nice of him.”
Oli's handler was a very generous man, always giving Oli rewards when he behaves himself. He doesn't even hit him when he messes things up. “It was nice. I'm very grateful.”
Miss Amelia pulls the syringe away, throwing away the used needle. “You're all done,” she says. “You did well.”
Oli's smile brightens at the compliment. “Thank you, Miss Amelia.”
She nods again. “Okay. Wait here and Dr. Sanderson will be in soon.”
Oli watches her leave before looking down at the ground. He kicks his legs back and forth, allowing himself to move now that he's alone. He likes Miss Amelia. She's easy to please as long as he does what she says and that makes her safer than some of the researchers.
Miss Amelia is a nurse, so Oli supposes that might be why she's nicer to him. From what Oli understands, nurses are supposed to help people. Though he's heard the same thing about doctors and he's not had much luck with them. They don't usually care how good he is, too focused on the results of the tests they perform. It makes it harder to keep them pleased.
The more displeased they get, the more likely it is that they'll end up throwing him away. Being thrown away means being terminated. Being terminated means dying, and Oli isn't ready to die.
The door opens, Dr. Sanderson walks in, breaking Oli away from his troubled thoughts. Her expression is as unreadable as ever, and that instantly puts Oli on edge. He tries to offer a polite smile, but it comes out more shaky than he would have hoped. “Good morning, Dr. Sanderson.”
She doesn't look up from her clipboard, her eyes glued to the page in front of her. She doesn't bother to return Oli's greeting, moving on straight to business. “We're doing a practice surgery.” she says, as if she's the one they're going to be slicing into.
He swallows dryly, staying very still. He hates those procedures the most. The doctors that perform them are amateurs that Winter let's practice on him to get experience. They usually let him have anesthesia, but that doesn't usually dull the pain nearly enough. He can't complain because even if it hurts, he'll heal faster than anyone else once it's over and that makes him useful. Oli can't not be useful.
Still, he feels his heart pound rapidly in his chest, as if he's just run a mile in the training rooms. His face feels warm as he nods his understanding. He's proud of how steady his voice is when he speaks. “They're coming in today?”
She flips a page on her clipboard, still not looking at him. “Tomorrow,” she amends. “They have to prep the room first. Some equipment got moved to the wrong place.”
Oli forces his body to loosen. “Okay. Does that mean there aren't any tests for today?”
It's the wrong thing to say and he knows it as soon as Dr. Sanderson finally glances up, her eyes narrowed. He still can't read her expression but Oli knows that he's somehow made her upset at him. He swallows hard. “...Sorry.”
He lets out a silent breath when she looks away again. “You're going to stay in your room until the trainees get here tomorrow. You'll have to skip your nighttime supplement.”
Oli nods quickly. “I understand.”
Dr. Sanderson nods back at him, going to sit down in her office chair. “Your handler will be coming to pick you up shortly.”
And with that the conversation is clearly over. Oli waits, the silence this time around pressing down on him. He only jumps a little when the door opens again, his handler peering inside the office.
“Oli? Time to go, bud.”
Oli takes another silent breath in, standing up to join his handler in the hallway. His handler closes the door and starts escorting him back to his room. Once they reach Oli's section, he looks him over, a frown forming on his face. “You alright there, bud?”
Oli nods, forcing a smile on his face. “I'm fine. Thank you for walking me back.”
His handler doesn't look convinced, but he opens the door for Oli anyway. “You're welcome, Oli. I'll be back early to pick you up, so get some sleep.”
Oli slips inside, flinching when the large metal door shuts, the metallic bang echoing inside the small room. He stands in the middle of the room for a moment before crawling into his blanket fort, pulling the scratchy fabric around himself. He starts humming quietly, closing his eyes tight.
His heart continues to beat rapidly and Oli hums louder, trying to drown it out. His hand forms a fist, his nails digging into his palm. He knocks his closed fist repeatedly against his knee, the motion eases the buzzing feeling in Oli's brain.
He shuts down all the thoughts in his head, focusing instead on the feeling of his nails digging into his skin and the pacing of his fist against his knee. Oli breathes quietly.
Everything was fine. It was always fine.
Oli would be fine.