Work Text:
Eleven stared fixedly at the pegboard as the red chip bounced its way to the bottom. Plunk, plunk, plunk. Four. Ugh. She dropped another. Five. Ugh. Again.
The man was silent as he took a seat next to her. He was always around these days. He didn’t say too much, but he liked to talk to her, Eleven thought. She found she didn’t mind.
He watched as she dropped another chip. Plunk, plunk, plunk. One. Eleven huffed, annoyed. She could sense the man’s eyes on her. He spoke more with his eyes than he did with his mouth. He was a man of few words, but the words he did speak seemed important.
“Do you want to try something a bit more difficult?” Eleven looked at him. She found his eyes already on her, as she had expected. But there was something… wrong. Something off, in his eyes. A message. Come with me, they said. Trust me.
She nodded.
‘Something more difficult’ turned out to be chess. That was fine. Eleven liked chess. It was less aggravating than the pegboard that would never land on three. The man moved first. Forward two. Eleven mirrored him.
“Try not to show any emotions as i speak, okay?” the man murmured. Eleven looked up at him, puzzled. “Just keep playing the game if you understand.” Eleven hesitated. This was strange. It felt wrong. Dangerous. She moved another pawn forward two.
“Two is still in the infirmary recovering,” the man began, sliding another pawn forward. “He’s being watched now, but once he is released…” the man met her eyes. His expression was deadly serious. “He and the others are going to attempt to kill you. Right here. In this room.” Eleven stared back at him. No emotions, she reminded herself.
“And Papa will allow it to happen. In fact, he wants it to happen. He’s been planning it for some time now.” The man was still eyeing her. Eleven took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady herself. The worst part was, she believed him. Papa doesn’t always tell the truth. Two had acted wrongly, but Papa hadn’t just punished him. He had tortured him. His own child. What would stop him from allowing the same to happen to her?
“Stay calm,” the man whispered, his eyes softening slightly. “Focus on the game.”
Another pawn forward.
“There’s a reason Two and the others were able to escape their rooms last night,” the man continued. “Why the security cameras were turned off. Why Papa punished Two today.” He paused to move another piece. “They don’t even realize it, but he is moving them like pieces on this board here. Driving them to do exactly what he wants. Which is…” the man took the knight Eleven had just moved.
Eleven stared at him. “Why?”
The man stared back, blue eyes boring into hers. “You frighten him,” he whispered matter-of-factly. “He knows you are more powerful than the others. And he also knows he can’t control you.” The man looked down at the board again, something like sadness creeping into his features. “That’s all he wants.” He glanced back up. “Control.”
He sighed. “I saw all this happening. That’s why i wanted to help you, but…” he dropped her gaze again. “I only made things worse.”
An image flashed before Eleven’s mind. Screaming. A blonde head was all she could see, shaking violently, racked with pain, while two other guards prodded at him with electrical rods. And Papa… he stood there. He watched. His eyes cold, merciless, unforgiving.
“Helping me… made Papa hurt you.”
The man nodded. Eleven let out a shaky breath, dropping his gaze. She couldn’t bear to look at him, not after what she had seen.
“And it is why you must escape,” the man insisted. “Today. But they are watching us. Closely.” He glanced up at the security camera over Eleven’s shoulder. She followed his gaze. “If you want to make it out of here alive, you must do exactly as I say, do you understand?”
Just keep playing the game if you understand. Eleven took his bishop. She met his gaze again. “Why do you still help?”
The man offered a soft, almost melancholic smile. “Because I believe in you. It is time you are free from this hell.” His hand brushed hers under the table. He pushed something into her palm. A small square of plastic, like a card. He smiled at her again. She only stared at him.
~•~
Eleven maneuvered through the dark room, around pipes metal tanks, hissing things. Her stomach was knotted with adrenaline and fear. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be here. She was breaking the rules. She was going to get caught.
A hiss of steam next to her ear startled her already anxious nerves, and she jumped back, stumbling into something solid. A person. She turned, finding herself face to face with the strange man. He held a finger to his lips. “Quiet,” he breathed. “Follow me.” If you want to make it out of here alive, you must do exactly as i say. This was so wrong. She took a deep, steadying breath, and followed.
There was a grate over a pipe that protruded from the wall. It was small, but Eleven thought she could fit. “Now, it’s going to be a bit scary in here,” the man said. “But this will lead you out beyond the lab fence to the woods.”
He gazed down the dark depths of the pipe, something sad creeping into his features. Eleven looked at him puzzlingly. “But you are too big.”
The man turned to her, his eyes soft. He took her small hands in his. “I’m not going with you, Eleven,” he admitted. “I meant what i said, when I called this place a prison. Everyone here is a prisoner, not just you. Not just your brothers and sisters, but the guards, too, the nurses. Me.” She dropped his gaze. The sad acceptance in his eyes was almost too much.
“Here,” he sighed. He tilted his head, pulling his hair back to reveal a small bump in the skin of his neck. He brought her finger to it. It pulsed slightly, almost as if it were alive. “Can you feel it?” he asked. “Your Papa calls it Soteria. It weakens me. It tracks me. Even if there were another way out, he will find me.” He caught her eyes again. “And if he finds me, he will find you.”
Eleven took several deep breaths. Oh, it was risky. It was so risky. But they had come this far, hadn’t they?
“What if I make it go away?” The man stared at her in utter shock. Eleven stared back, firmly now. “You help me. I help you.”
In spite of himself, the man smiled. A real, genuine smile, not one tinged with sadness around the corners of his mouth. It was nice, Eleven thought.
~•~
He leaned up against a concrete pillar, biting down on his belt to stop himself from crying out. Eleven stood over him, hand outstretch, straining. The little pulsing bump fought against her force. The man shook, not nearly as violently as he had when Papa tortured him, but it was too reminiscent. Eleven closed her eyes. Let it be over, she begged to no one.
A sound escaped the man’s throat just as the object popped from his skin, flying across the room. He let out a deep sigh, as though he had been holding his breath. He rose, striding across the floor to where the Soteria lay, soaked in blood. Blood ran down the man’s neck too, staining his white collar, but he didn’t seem to care. He knelt down, taking the Soteria between his thumb and index finger.
“Who knew something so small could cause so much damage?” His eyes met hers. Thank you, they said. He dropped the Soteria and crushed it under his heel. Eleven stood rooted to the spot, watching him. “Come,” he beckoned her. “We need to move.”
Eleven stared uneasily into the tunnel. She couldn’t get past the recklessness of this whole plot. “Go, quickly,” the man urged. He sounded scared. Eleven had never seen an adult scared before. “I’ll follow you. That way, if they catch us, they won’t see you.”
Eleven hesitated, fear mounting. This was risky, breaking the rules. Papa would be angry…
“Go!” The man gave her a gentle shove. She crawled through the hole. She could hear him following behind her, hear the clank of the grate repositioned. How had he closed it? He was far too big to turn around in here.
“Keep going,” he whispered, near to her. “Don’t stop, don’t look back. I’m right behind you.” That was a nice thought. This was all so scary. It was nice to know a friend was close by.
They crawled on for a while. They didn’t dare speak, hardly to breath. And for good reason.
Bang, bang, bang. Footsteps. Heavy. Running. Eleven froze, terrified.
She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. “Don’t stop. We’re far enough down now. We can make it.” Eleven didn’t move. Her limbs were working against her, rooting her to the spot. She half expected the searchers to locate them by the sound of her pounding heart.
“Eleven.” The man was so close, he was nearly on top of her. He whispered encouragements, thought with a certain urgency. “We must not stop. If we keep going, they won’t find us. You’re safe. Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you.”
How could he promise that? He was one man. One spindly, soft spoken man against several, armed guards at that. Nevertheless, his words were well meant. Eleven took a deep breath and crawled on.
Five minutes, maybe ten? It could have been a year, for all Eleven knew. She was tired. Her hands and knees ached. They turned left, right, left again, until-
“There.” The grin was evident in the man’s voice. “That light. We’re safe, Eleven.” He sighed. “For now, at least.”
But Eleven still feared. This felt too good to be true. Surely, they would be caught. They would be punished. But no, there was the light. There was the end. Eleven was hoisting herself out, and-
“Agh!” A sharp pain shot up her leg. She fell to the soft earth with a smack. She struggled up into a sitting position, and-
Oh.
Blood. Quite a bit of blood, rushing down her calf. The man was by her side now. He looked worried. Whether for her safety or his own, Eleven was unsure.
“Here.” He tore a long strip of fabric from her hospital gown, tying it tightly around the injury. He worked in silence. He was silent a lot.
“We can’t stay here,” he said after a while, voice low. “We must keep moving. Can you walk?” Eleven set her jaw, pushing herself to her feet. She tried to take a step, but a bolt of pain shot through her leg, knocking her back to the ground.
“Here.” The man knelt down beside her. “I can carry you.” His eyes met hers full-on. Please, they said. Let me help you. Eleven nodded. It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice.
The man leaned forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees. They moved in silence for a long time, but here, so close to this strange man’s chest, Eleven could make out his heartbeat; a rapid rhythm. He was scared. But the farther they strayed from their “prison”, as the man called it, the slower it drummed. Eleven gauged the level of danger they were in this way, until she was satisfied of their safety.
The sun was dipping into the lower half of the sky by the time they stopped. They had come across a stream tucked into the depths of the woods. On its bank, the man set her down. She watched as he carefully unwrapped her leg and washed the blood away with water from his cupped hands. She still wasn’t entirely sure why he was helping her, but she wasn’t complaining. She stared with a vague sense of wonder as he drew several items from his pocket: a few cotton pads, a roll of gauze, multiple bandages, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
“How?” she asked.
“Stole them from the infirmary,” he answered. He poured some hand sanitizer onto a cotton pad. “This might sting a bit,” he warned.
It did sting, but it was nothing compared to the pain in the cut before, so Eleven decided she could handle it. “You always have to clean a wound first,” the man explained while he worked. “Then disinfect it, so that it doesn’t get worse. That’s what this is for.” He set the cotton pad down. It was stained bright red, almost none of the original white visible. “Then bandage. It needs to be tight, for a deep cut like this, to stop the flow of blood.” He began wrapping her leg in white gauze. “Always remember that. It’s useful, for the next time you get injured.” He tied it tightly. “There. Try not to walk on it too much for the rest of the day, okay? We don’t want to risk it opening back up again.”
Eleven met his gaze. “Thank you,” she said. He smiled at her. There was still a question gnawing at her mind, though.
“Why do you help?” she asked, just as she had earlier that day. She remembered what he had said then. Because I believe in you. “Really.” she added.
The man sighed. “It’s not a simple question, Eleven. It will take a while to explain. I’ll tell you someday soon, when you’re older.”
“No.” Eleven wasn’t going to take that for an answer. They had just escaped hell together. She had a right to know. “Why?”
The man gazed at her long and hard, his face a mixture of emotions Eleven couldn’t begin to unravel. Then he dropped his gaze to his hands, and sighed. After a moment’s pause, he rolled up his right sleeve, holding his wrist out to her. There was a marking there, almost like her own, but different by one digit. 001.
Eleven stared at it. “One,” she read aloud.
“You’re like me, Eleven,” the man, One, explained, his voice tinged with something far off. “I saw myself in you. And I hoped that I could help you escape the nightmare I had to suffer when I was your age. I wanted to give you the life I couldn’t have. I still do.”
Eleven studied his face, searching for any sort of explanation as to what that meant. She found nothing. “Like I said,” One continued. “I’ll explain it properly when you’re older. You’re too young now. I don’t want to frighten you.”
“But Papa said-”
“I know what Papa said. But Papa doesn’t always tell the truth, does he?”
Eleven couldn’t argue with that. Not after what she’d seen. Not after what One had told her. He turned away, focusing instead on cleaning the wound in his neck.
His words rang in Eleven’s ears. I hoped I could help you escape the nightmare I hade to suffer when I was your age. She watched him reach for the disinfectant. I wanted to give you the life I couldn’t have. I still do.
She snatched the sanitizer and cotton pad up before he could get to them. She locked eyes with him. “Let me.” One seemed apprehensive. “You help me. I help you.” Eleven echoed her own words from earlier. One regarded her a moment longer, but then his features softened, and he allowed her to move closer.
She did her best to replicate his actions. First clean, then disinfect, then bandage. She tried not to look directly at the place in his neck where the skin was torn apart. She had done that, Eleven reminded herself. One didn’t seem very bothered by the injury, but Eleven thought he might have been in more pain than he was letting on.
She plastered a large square bandage over his neck, and sat back to examine her work. One lifted a hand to it, thumbing over the area where the tear was hidden under sticky cloth. “Thank you.” Eleven nodded.
“We’ll stay here for the night,” One decided. “But tomorrow, we need to move. We’ll find food and maybe some normal clothes if we can. Especially for you. I’m afraid you look a bit suspicious walking around in a hospital gown.” Eleven said nothing.
“You ought to get some sleep.” One turned to face her fully. “You look exhausted. I’ll keep watch, you just try and rest, okay?” Eleven nodded again, laying herself down where she was. The forest floor was surprisingly comfortable. One shifted closer, his legs resting near to Eleven’s head. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was comforting. It made her feel safe. She remembered something he had said earlier, in the tunnel. Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
“One?” she murmured into the growing darkness.
“Hm?”
Eleven rolled onto her back so she could look up at him. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Eleven,” he answered. “You and I are a team from now on, okay? I’ll always protect you, and maybe someday, you’ll need to protect me, too.” Eleven liked that idea. A team. Like brother and sister.
“But… please don’t call me One. That isn’t my name. It’s the name your Papa gave me. I don’t want that to be who I am.”
“What is your name?” Eleven asked.
“Call me Henry.”
“Henry…” Eleven liked the sound of that name. It suited him.
Henry gazed at her with a certain tenderness marking his features. Eleven offered him a smile. He smiled back*.* Smiled with his eyes.
Thank you, they said.