Wow it has been a while since I have put anything up here. So this story started as an assignment for a creative writing class and I thought it would make a good fan fiction. It may be a bit OOC, so I am sorry if that happens. I'm kinda putting this up here as a test. If people seem interested, I'll continue it. If not, well it can rot on the internet. Hahaha. Warning! Updates may be very slow. College takes up most of my life and once that's starts up again, I won't have time for much else. Well…enjoy! Oh yeah, bla bla bla don't own, bla bla bla legal stuff.

87: The Forgotten Twin

His fingers and toes felt numb from the leather bindings that kept him to the bed. A soft hum could be heard from the IV machine as it slowly pumped fluids into his bloodstream. Half lidded eyes stared at the blank ceiling and wondered what today's mixture would be. A slam startled him from his trance and he shot a look at the door only to sigh and crash his head back onto the pillow.

"No hello, Patient 87? No good morning, doctor? I would think after all these years being together I would have at least earned that from you," the doctor commented with a smile as he shuffled through the papers on his clip board.

87 just growled and turned his head away to scowl at the wall. He had no respect for the man even if his fate lay in the hands of that so called doctor. And even that never mattered. He knew that the doctor would never let him die. "87" was too important; the pride of the facility.

"Testy today aren't we 87? Or what was that nickname the guards gave you? Shiro, right? You prefer that to your number don't you?" The doctor caressed the exposed left cheek, "Does it make you feel more human? Like you mean something to the outside world?"

Shiro turned and tried to snap at the doctor's fingers, but it was useless. Pulling his hand away the doctor just chuckled. Shiro glared holes into the man standing above him and wished the binds were not in place so that he could pounce on the doctor like a hunter would its prey.

"Show some respect to you superiors Shiro, you dam mutt!" a guard scolded. Shiro cringed as the butt of a gun was shoved into his side and he scowled at the smug looking guard.

If only he wasn't under the effects of the IV, he could have broken the binds and the guard would have regretted ever even carrying that thing. For now he just hoped that one of his ribs wasn't broken.

When the footsteps started again, Shiro snapped his head to watch the doctor. A syringe in his hand slowly filled up with a clear liquid. His eyes went wide as the needle was removed from the bottle and a small drop slipped out from the tip.

The doctor looked at the young man tied to the bed like a father would look at his sick son and darkly commented, "Now, now. Don't look so scared 87." Shiro felt his cold boney hand slick through his hair as the sickening grin glared down at him, "This will only hurt for a bit."

There was a prick, a push, and a sudden feel of warmth. Shiro's breath hitched as he tried to keep his breath steady. His lungs just couldn't get enough air. The tightness grew as his muscles froze in place. The bed shook as his body convulsed. Heat from soon to be burns pulsed into Shiro's wrists and ankles where the bind held him in place. Air hissed through his teeth as he took sharp pained breaths. His hands reached out and his fingers looked for anything to grab for comfort.

Shiro could no longer take the pain, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

The scream bounded off the walls and rang through Shiro's own ears. He panted for air when the sound finished echoing in the small room. He looked to the doctor. His eyes pleaded for release from this hell but only a cold unamused look shot back at him.

"Give 87 the sedative and throw him back into his room. We are done here." The doctor turned, shook his head, and sighed as Shiro heard him mutter, "Another failure."

He felt another sharp prick in his arms and his body calmed; his muscles no longer frozen in place and twitching without reason. Former footsteps fell silent when the door clicked shut and Shiro's body slumped into the mattress. The leather burns were revealed as the binds clanked against the bed. He barely felt the tube as it slipped from his arm and left the IV silent and abandoned.

"Let's go kid," was the last thing Shiro heard before the sedative took over and gave him some welcomed rest.

He shaded his eyes from the humming florescent lights that beat down on him. Shiro blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He grabbed the bed for support, and shakily stood up and made his way to the small sink and mirror to the side of the bed. Cool water ran from the faucet and he splashed a little on his face before he looked into the mirror. His skin begged for sunlight, his eyes begged for rest, and his hair was still as white as snow. He grabbed on to the sink for balance and looked down. He could count his ribs as they poked through his shirt. His pants just barely clung to his hip bones. His stomach growled begging for something to be put in it. Shiro placed a hand on the flat surface of his abdomen and glanced at the door. Four glasses of water and two pieces of toast laid there. It had been two days.

Slowly, he made his way to the door and slumped down against the wall. His body ached and his side burned. As he lifted his shirt, Shiro was greeted by a large mark that displayed an

array of blues, blacks and purples. He sighed and rested his head against the wall while he nibbled on a piece of now stale toast.

Shiro never knew much about his condition. It had started slow. A cough, a fever, and some congestion had plagued him during his younger years. It came and went as any other cold would, but after his fourth birthday things changed. His hair turned white, he was always weak, and the coughing attacks produced blood. That was when his parents brought, and eventually, abandoned him here at Las Noches Hospital since they refused to let a terminal ill child ruin their otherwise perfect lives when another was on the way. When he was younger, he never questioned the drugs the doctors gave him. His parents still visited him then and always reassured him that it was all for him to get better. So with that, all the serums and tablets went down easy, and he even started to feel better. Then more people came in with his condition and joined Shiro on the thirteenth floor. The drugs stopped helping and came to a stalemate with the virus with the patients one by one. Shiro had been one of the first that the drugs stopped working for, and also one of the first for the experimental treatments to be tested on. At first they seemed normal. A new pill here, a different set of shots there, but then the doctor seemed to get desperate to find an answer. Shiro watched through the years as desperation slowly turned into insanity. There was one difference though between Shiro, and the others that underwent these increasingly insane experimental trials; he survived. For eighteen years he survived, and that is how he ended up here as patient 87; the so called pride of the hospital and answer the most recent plague on human kind.

Shiro scowled and bit violently into the toast. What did he care about people? People had ruined his chance at a life, so why should he help others have one? He owed them nothing. If anything, they owed him everything and he should have been paid a long time ago. He smiled a bit at the thought of finally being appreciated. People chanted his name and he was revered as being the hero of the human race. Awards were hung around his neck and a little girl gave him a bouquet of flowers.

A knock at the door brought Shiro back into the sad reality that was the hospital room. The door clicked and a guard walked into the room. Shiro smiled at seeing him; the only person that treated him as if he was a human and not a guinea pig.

"Shiro? Shiro what are you doing on the floor?" the guard asked as he reached down to scoop up the young man.

"If ya and the other guards wouldn't have putn' my food on the ground, I wouldn't have had to be down there," Shiro shot back as a grin broke through his usually stern face.

The guard sighed as he set Shiro down on the bed, "Still as sarcastic as ever I see."

"Wouldn't be me if I wasn't."

The guard shook his head with a smile and Shiro watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and the remaining piece of toast off the floor. He brought it back and set it on the small table that sat next to the bed.

"I'll try to get you some fresh food, but no promises. I had a hard enough time getting you this much while you were out. Said you were asleep, so why did you need food? For doctors, they really aren't smart."

Shiro couldn't help but laugh at the comment and thanked the guard as he left; the sound of the locks clicking shut behind him.

Time never changed in Shiro's room but he guessed it was more like eight or nine at night since that was when the guards made their second rounds. His body still ached and once the water was finished, Shiro laid flat onto the bed. The mattress was as hard as a rock, but felt like the softest of foams to his strained muscles. Whatever that clear liquid was, it had really done a number to him this time and the bruise on his side didn't help the relaxation process. But it was rare that he got a time like this so he tried to enjoy it the best he could.

Slipping back into his thoughts from the floor, Shiro's ability to relax failed and his anger grew. He didn't deserve this. No one did. And the fact that he knew so little of his condition and why they were doing this to him only made his rage grow. If he truly was the answer to a cure from this plague, why was he treated like the common infected lab rat? Caged, hidden, and at the beck and call of a master whenever they got a bright idea they wanted to test.

"Why not jus' put a collar and leash on me and call me a dog?" Shiro thought before he remembered he was already halfway there. His hand glided to his neck where a choker rested as a more permanent substitution to the common medical bracelet. His fingers felt the small metal

medallion that dangled from the collar. He was already a dog, and this dog was tired of being beaten down.

Shiro laid there through the night and thought. To break out wouldn't be hard if he planned it correctly. They knew he was awake and would come in the morning to check on him. He had to strike then. All he needed was a pair of shoes, some money, and enough time to get through the forest outside and to the highway. It could work. It had to work.

Hours passed until a cackle broke the silence of the room. Shiro looked up into the corner where a speaker hung there laughing at him as the signal worked its way through. It must be morning.

"Patient 87. A new treatment is ready to be tested by you. A guard will be there for you shortly."

The message ended with a final click and Shiro sat up. It was now or never. Crouching behind the door he waited. There was a knock, a click, and as soon as he heard his name called, Shiro pounced and landed on the guard's back. He struggled to get the guard to the ground and when he finally fell, the guard fell hard and laid still on the floor. He checked and made sure the guard still had a pulse and noticed it was the one guard who had treated Shiro with respect.

"I'm sorry man. You were always good ta me, but I can't stay here anymore. Jus' wish it wasn't you I had ta hurt ta do this."

Shiro tore shoes off the guard's feet and laced them up on pale feet. He extracted a wallet from the guards back pocket and the cash removed to be hidden in the shoes. He grabbed keys

and a walkie- from the fallen guard; one placed in each pale hand. A quick check of the hall, and Shiro made his way out running to the back stairs. He knew he wouldn't have much time. Another guard would notice his fallen comrade and quickly call for back up to find the run away.

Shiro shoved through the door that lead to the stairs. His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing and tried to keep his balance as he ran down the twelve flights. His breathing became labored as the constant weakness he felt started to catch up with him. Shiro wasn't sure he would make it, but at the same time he wouldn't give up.

The radio beeped gaining Shiro's attention, "Attention! Attention! Patient 87 has made a run for it. All units are to split up and track him down. Do not hurt him. We need him back alive and well. Hurry, He may already be outside."

"Dammit," Shiro cursed under his breath, "I thought I would have more time than that!" He swallowed his pain and continued to work his way down the stairs step by step to the salvation that waited outside.

The sound of clanking not from his own feet startled him as he got down to the fourth floor. They were close and Shiro knew it. If he didn't speed up, he would be as trapped as the dog he was in an alleyway, but he just didn't know if his legs would let him do what his mind wanted. Shiro ground his teeth, wiped the sweat from his brow, pushed the pain from his side away and started to jump the flights of stairs.

"There he is! Hurry!" a guard yelled to the group that was following him. Shiro looked up and lost his footing as he tried to jump the last flight of stairs. He rolled barrel style down, bumped off of many stairs and collided with the door at the bottom with a groan.

Dazed, he sat there and shook his head. Only when the footsteps and calls from the guards got louder did Shiro break out of the trance he was in. He fumbled for the handle of the door and used it to get back on his feet. He pulled on it to find it locked. A quick check back to see where the guards were and Shiro got to work to find what key went to the lock.

"Come on….come on," Shiro begged of the keys as he slipped them in one by one until he heard the tumblers move. He pushed the door open. A wave of adrenalin hit him. He bolted for the small forest that surrounded the hospital. He would hide there till nightfall and then make his way to the highway. A town couldn't be far away. This hospital may have been a prison for him, but it was still a hospital full of normal patients. They had to come from somewhere.

The sun beat down on him as he ran with the group of guards on his heels. He wished he could just sit and bask in it, but he had no time. If he didn't make it to the forest, he had no chance. He ran. He would enjoy the sunlight later.

The trees invited Shiro into their shadows. He dove in without a second thought. He could hear the guards yelling behind him but paid no heed to their words as he ran deeper into the thick and untamed brush. He wheezed and gasped for breath and he collapsed in a thick grove of tall trees and bushes. Shiro smiled as he gripped the dirt that lay beneath him and blacked out.