As tendrils of smoke curled up from her lit cigarette, Erin Pearson thought casually about how long it had been since she last smoked. Was it four months? Six? In truth, she always found it easy to give up the habit, but sometimes she allowed herself a week of indulgence. When the stress was too much.
And right now, the stress was too much.
She flicked the ash away and took a long drag, if only to stop her hands from shaking. Her hands were caked in nearly dry mud, and her clothes would have to be rinsed in her hotel bath tub before she could even send them down to be laundered by the hotel. But for the moment, she forced herself to not think of the future.
She would have liked to not think of anything, but that was impossible. She sat at the root of a great oak tree, and looked down at the mound of fresh, moist earth that had been piled over Seven's body.
She reached the end of her cigarette, and stubbed it out in the earth, which was growing wetter in the beginnings of a spring shower. As she blew out the last of the smoke, she stood, and looked down at the unmarked grave she'd spent over an hour digging.
"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," she said. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself as warm as possible.
Seven was only a few years younger than Erin, but they had been close at Hawkins National Laboratory. Things were different at the lab when they were children. Children—assets as the researchers called them—were allowed more freedoms than those who followed them in years to come. They played together. They were educated by a private tutor of sorts. When they were trained for the field, few of them objected.
Erin did. But not at first.
She blinked the rain out of her eyes, and thought that at least Seven was spared the worst of what she herself had experienced. Seven, with her homely appearance and sweet disposition.
Erin wondered if Seven had been using a name. Had she taken back that part of her humanity? The nametag on the diner uniform said Marie, but Erin knew that it was only a part of a mission. They were given names for new missions, and just like one would change their socks, the assets changed their identities at a moment's notice.
But Erin had been wearing this identity for enough years that she no longer felt like Four, only a number. She felt like Erin. And she was going to spend the rest of her life making it so that the children brought up in Hawkins National Laboratory never felt like a number ever again.
Seven had been her first attempt to turn an asset against Hawkins. Seven had packed her bags that morning. Erin had spent the night convincing her to abandon her mission, and she had succeeded.
Erin had been too complacent. Too careless. She left Seven for only an hour, and when she returned she found her in a pool of her own blood, dead from a bullet to the brain.
She would have to be smarter if she was going to save the others before they could get to them. Erin thought a moment that Hawkins might just kill all their assets, so they couldn't lose them, like they had with Seven, but the years put into the MKUltra program would prevent them from doing so. Erin knew that even now, after all she had done, the CIA, Hawkins, MKUltra… they would do whatever it took to turn her back. To regain what they had lost. So for that, Erin was thankful. She might be able to reach some of the others before they did.
She left the woods behind the diner where she had buried Seven, and drove her rental car to her hotel. She plodded down the carpeted hallway of the hotel to her room, her wet clothes chilling her body.
She unlocked her hotel room door with her plastic card key, its face a series of hole punches. She withdrew the key, and slid it into the back pocket of her wet jeans.
When she closed her door, she could barely see in the dark room, a stark contrast to the bright hallway. Her eyes landed on an outline on her bed, an outline of a person. Jumping to action, Erin darted to the desk in the entryway, and pulled the drawer open. The gun that she had stashed there was gone.
Her heart raced, and she looked up at the person on her bed. They rose calmly, and stepped into a beam of light that peeked through the curtains. It was him. Perceptibly older, but it was him.
He produced the gun she had been searching for, and held it in his open hand. "Looking for this?" he asked.
Erin turned to flee, her hand finding the doorknob. She opened it only a foot before he ran behind her, simultaneously slamming the door shut, and pressing her face first against it.
"Don't run, Four," he murmured into her ear. It sent chills down her spine, and turned her stomach. Echoes of memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she stifled them, and struggled to break free from his hold.
"Stop," he said, and pressed the gun against her back, right by her kidney. It would be a fatal wound. She knew he would take the shot if he had to. She stopped struggling, and he pulled her away from the door.
"Why did you do it?" she asked through gritted teeth. Tears fell from her eyes.
"You know why," he said. "She was ready to leave with you—and we can't have that. You caused enough problems when you escaped. We can't have you spreading doubt among our assets."
"Then why don't you kill me?" she shouted through her tears that fell silently.
He turned her around to face him. He kept an arm wrapped around her waist, and the revolver against her side.
"You know why," he repeated, his voice heavy, his mouth mere inches from hers.
She pressed her lips together defiantly, and looked into his blue eyes with a fierce anger he had never seen before.
Her grey eyes were still the same, but they had lost all of the innocence they once had. He was responsible, and for that he would always feel a mix of emotions.
"Let me go," she said.
"Four, I can't do that, you know it."
Erin huffed. "My name is Erin," she said, staccato.
"To me, you'll always be Four," he said, and took his hand from her waist, and put it on the side of her face.
"To you, I'll always be an object. A weapon you can point this way or that. Something you can use as you see fit." She hurtled those last words with disgust.
"Everything I did for you, I did to prepare you for our work. You were part of something that was bigger than what your life would have been. You can still be a part of that."
"I'd rather rot in hell," she said.
"We need you," he said. "One of our subjects has such raw potential, she reminds me of you. But she doesn't have the control you have. She needs someone like you. A mentor. Come back," he caressed her cheek with his thumb.
"And help you train another instrument of death? Help you rob a child of her innocence? Or are you no longer giving that lesson to your assets?" She was silent a moment as she searched his eyes. "Was I just an exception… papa?"
Dr. Brenner frowned. He hated to hear that word coming from her mouth. But he had served as a father figure to her, and other children like her. He had loved her. Perhaps more than the rest. And so much differently.
"I did what I was told," he said, his voice wavering.
"And you hated every minute of it, I'm sure," she said, fresh tears joining those that had dampened her cheeks already.
"I don't recall you objecting," Brenner said, anger playing on his face a moment. "You came to me willingly, in the end. Many times."
"I was a child. A teenager, but still a child," she argued. "You took advantage. I only pray you haven't done that to the one you say reminds you so much of me."
Brenner shook his head, and pressed his lips together. "You were my exception. The only one. I'm not proud of it, but I don't regret it."
Brenner wiped away her tears with his thumb, and leaned down to claim her lips with his.
Erin pressed her hands on his chest to push him away, but he caught her with his arms, and held her to him with strength that was surprising despite his frame.
Erin pulled her mouth away from his, and grunted in disgust—disgust in him, and disgust in herself. "Stop!" she commanded.
Brenner looked down at Erin, her dark brown hair hanging damply, still dripping from the rain.
"You can stop me, Four," he said, backing her into the door, and looking down on her. "Of all the assets in the program, you were always the strongest. You still are. We both know if you want to, you can stop me. And not just for a moment, but for good."
He kissed her again, dropping the revolver on the carpeted floor, and moving his hands up her damp clothes to rest underneath her arms.
Her rigid frame relaxed for a moment, but she still stood there frozen. His tongue brushed her lower lip lightly, and her resolve crumbled. Her body betrayed her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him deeply. Satisfied in her relenting, Brenner put pressure under her arms in a gesture that was, for them, one that was so familiar it was like slipping into a warm bath. He lifted her off her feet, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He held her there a moment, kissing her. When he turned, he walked the few steps that there were between them and the bed. He put her down urgently, but full of a tenderness that she knew he had. He was always gentle with her—except for those nights she didn't want him to be.
He pulled away from her, and knowing that he was safe from her extraordinary powers, he loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Erin watched, and did nothing. When he noticed her hesitancy, Brenner shrugged off his jacket, and took his place between her legs. He pushed her further up the bed, and kissed her firmly.
She responded instantly. Her head swam when he took his mouth away from hers, and placed it on her neck, applying pressure with his tongue to the spot he knew would drive her crazy.
It elicited the moan he wanted from her, and he smiled his wolfish grin. Her hands involuntarily went to his white hair. While she breathed a moment, not yet recovered from what he had done to her, Erin watched while Brenner unbuttoned the plaid flannel shirt she wore, exposing her freckled stomach. She wore no undergarments, which caused him to exhale and flex his jaw. He had missed her.
His mouth descended to her chest, and he kissed her collar bone, moving down to lightly lick her nipples enough to see them harden into small, pink peaks. When he had accomplished that, he roughly pulled the flannel shirt down her shoulders, which she helped him remove.
When he had finished, she put her hands on his chest, and helped him unbutton the remaining buttons. When she reached the last, she pulled his shirttails out, and his shirt joined hers on the floor.
Her skin was still cold and damp, which made quite the contrast to his, which was dry and warm. She shivered slightly against him as he quickly unbuttoned her wet jeans. He pulled back, and knelt on the bed as he pulled her shoes off, and began to peel her wet jeans from her, exposing her skin to more cold air. What remained of her clothing were her panties, also wet, clinging to her.
He pulled back from the bed, and stood beside it to take his shoes, and the rest of his clothing off, which he draped over a nearby chair. Standing beside the bed, Brenner allowed his former protégé to look him over in a mixture of shame, defeat, and wanting.
He was already half hard, just from looking at her. For all the beauty she had at nineteen, it had multiplied many times over in the five years it had been since he'd seen her. He knelt onto the bed, and lowered himself onto her, between her legs, warming her cold and damp skin with his. He claimed her mouth again in a kiss, and tilted his hips into hers, brushing against her through her damp underwear. He grew harder, rubbing himself against the spot he knew was making her wet.
He pulled away to look down at her, and shifted to the side to gain access to her, placing a hand on her apex. He brushed her sensitive spot with his thumb, and with each pass, nearing the edge of her useless undergarment. He pushed the fabric to the side, and felt for her wetness with his middle finger, and finding it, elicited a moan from her.
He smiled possessively, and began circling the spot that caused her hips to jerk involuntarily. When she was nearing the edge, she opened her eyes, and looked into his in resigned defeat.
"I hate you," she said, a tear falling down the side of her face, and disappearing into her ear.
He pulled her underwear down her legs, and discarded it on the hotel room floor. He positioned himself between her thighs, and pausing just at her entrance, feigned thrusting into her a few times, causing her to swivel her hips, hoping to end the wait.
He looked down at her struggling to entice him to give her what she wanted, and brushed his nose against hers affectionately.
"I know," he said, barely a whisper, and with that, thrust forward, and did not stop until he had buried in her completely. She cried out as he filled her quickly, hitting the spot inside that was a source of so much pleasure.
They stayed that way a moment, losing themselves in a kiss that conveyed so many emotions. Longing, disgust, comfort, and enough love that made what they were doing just bearable enough.
He picked up his movements, and thrust into her with urgent need. She responded in kind, moving her hips to best meet him. She came the first time within a minute, tensing around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he buried his head into the crook of her neck.
He took her wrists from his shoulders, and clamped his hands over them, pinning them above her head. He cocked a knee up, supporting himself as he leaned over her, putting distance between their chests. He looked down at their coupling, and sighed in satisfaction. He pulled out and thrust in, watching as he did so. Erin strained against his grip, which held her arms above her head, but he knew she did not want him to let go.
He shifted his focus to her arms above her head, and gazed at the tattoo she bore on the inside of her forearm. It was upside down, but he could still see the 004 that she had been branded with as a small child. It excited him, and he quickened his pace, forcing her to come again, which drew his own orgasm from him.
He thrusted until he was completely spent, spilling his seed inside her. When he had finished, he let her arms go, and settled into her, kissing her sweetly, which she, surprisingly, responded to by kissing him with as much ardor.
She was drunk on passion, and had given herself over. At least for the moment.
He stayed inside her, and pulled back enough to look down into her steel grey eyes, and at the dusting of freckles on her cheeks that he had dreamt about so much since she escaped the lab those years ago.
"I know it may not seem like it," he murmured, still catching his breath. "But I do love you."
Her eyes regained their alertness, and she brought her hand to his cheek, a gesture she used to use in bed when their lessons in the bedroom had stopped being lessons, and became something more.
"I know you think you do, Martin," she said, and turned away from him, breaking their connection. She had called him by his first name, something she had never done before.
When Brenner had been instructed to teach Four the art of pleasuring a man to get him to do what she wanted, she had still been calling him papa. In the depths of his mind, he knew that it turned him on when she called him that just before their "lessons", but he had always repressed that thought. When she began to want him, she called him Doctor. Despite their lessons being secret, the other assets took note of this change.
But she had never called him Martin, for she had never felt his equal. She was always the pupil, and he the mentor. The dynamic tainted any feelings they did have for each other back then.
Her use of his name drove home the fact that Four had become a woman, and was no longer his to command. Even if she agreed to come back to Hawkins, she was different now. She would no longer be his to command. Not completely.
"Come back to Hawkins, and let me prove it to you," he said, laying on his side, gazing at her as they always had done in bed.
"I won't kill for you, Martin," she said. "I want a normal life."
"You know you will never have that," he said, taking her chin between his fingers a moment, brushing his thumb under her bottom lip. "But if the killing bothers you so much, then you don't have to do it. But come and teach the others, the younger ones, what you know. How you control your gifts."
"Teach them how to kill, you mean," she said.
Brenner sighed and his jaw flexed a moment. She stared into his eyes a moment, and shivered. He got off the bed, and turned down the linens beside her. Erin looked at the bed sheets, and for a moment considered getting dressed and fleeing. One look in his lined eyes was enough to change her mind, although she slid under the sheets reluctantly. She knew there was no use in pretending they hadn't just fallen back into their old ways.
He followed her, and slid under the sheets, resting a hand on her hip as she faced him.
"What you trained to do is a service to the country," Brenner said. "We taught you to defend yourself. We taught you to use lethal force. But there are other ways to serve. Your abilities are staggering. If you really put your mind to it, you could serve and teach—no blood on your hands."
Memories of Brenner punishing Erin for failing to comply with his wishes came to mind. He wondered if this new girl had been subjected to the same. In her heart she knew she had. Maybe if she went, she could put a stop to that. But she still could not stomach the thought of helping those who had robbed her of a normal childhood. Who had poisoned and drugged her mother, changing her in the womb.
"Just blood on theirs," she said, staring at Brenner's chest absently. He said nothing.
"If I come, I want your word that I can leave whenever I want. If I want out, no one will stop me."
Brenner shook his head. "You have my word."
"No more punishment," she said. She looked up into his eyes, and she knew he was remembering. "That stops."
Brenner thought a moment, and nodded.
"I'm not your weapon, Martin," she said. He shook his head.
She propped herself onto her elbow, and looked down at him. She laced her fingers through his hair, and gripped it before tilting his head back. He sighed in pleasure, and she leaned down to kiss him aggressively. She quickly straddled his hips, and with a tilt of hers, she found him hard again already. She brought her weight down on him, and they both moaned in pleasure at their joining.
"I belong to no one," she warned him, waiting, and when he nodded, Erin moved her hips.
Erin gripped the doorframe, her duffel hanging from her shoulders. She peered over at a sleeping Doctor Martin Brenner, her former lover, her mentor, her father figure. The fact that he could be all three of those things turned her stomach. As she stood there, she realized Brenner was probably telling her the truth, or he wanted to believe it was the truth—she would not be harmed if she came back to Hawkins. But to go back into the jaws of the very monster she had escaped years ago went against her instincts.
Yes, she was abandoning other assets to years of psychological abuse, abuse that she might even be able to prevent if she gave Brenner what he wanted.
But she couldn't give it to him. She could picture it. Going back to the lab. Becoming his lover. Enabling those people to exploit children with special gifts, and ultimately getting sucked back into being an active agent.
She wouldn't do it. She would try to reach other active assets, and to try to turn them against Brenner and his team. She would deny the small voice in her head that told her she wanted to be with him. It wasn't right. It wasn't good for anyone. It could never be.
He stirred in his sleep, and for a moment Erin thought he might wake up, but he continued to sleep soundly. Taking this as her cue to leave, Erin took one last look at Brenner, and left.