AN: Okay, I actually deleted the author's note that was originally here, because, as some of your will already know, I write the one at the top when I start to write the chapter.

I figured I should warn you all that I got a little carried away with the sections of this chapter, so I've decided to split the chapter into two. Yeah, I'm sorry for the overload of Dara in the beginning of the chapter. It's a little long-winded, but please bear with it; she does have quite a prominent behind-the-scenes role in the fic, so she needed a little character development here in order for the later scenes she's involved in to make proper sense.

But anyway, I hope you like it! ^_^

Oh, also, I chose to update this instead of the other fics I really should be working on because it was already finished and typed and my exams won't allow me to write anything decent until they finish next week. Wish me luck, guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own ToS, only this fic and the OCs that appear in it.

Dara Ka-Fai didn't consider herself an unfortunate woman. She might have been captured by Sylvaranti researchers as a child but that didn't mean that she had no life there. Captivity hadn't been so bad once she'd figured out how to work the system. She was lucky she was a pure-blooded elf; she was far too valuable to be too roughly handled and there had been too much for them to study and monitor, since they knew very little about her race, for them to attempt any other experiments on her.

While she had been growing into a woman, they had simply been interested in how elves grew and aged. They were still interested in it now; the lifespan of an elf. They still took mana-readings from her three times a day, weekly blood samples and blood-pressure tests and a full physical examination once every month, but she found that she didn't mind any more.

It wasn't that she'd rather be in captivity than free. When she had first been brought into the facility she'd searched for any possible means of escape, assaulting guards, using her mana to manipulate the lock system subtly beneath the polycarbonate shackles they had used to restrict her violent spells and even attempting to slip through the bars whenever the guards changed shifts.

But however much she hated that they were always there, always watching her, observing her behaviour, recording how she would react to different situations, she now owed them, and she hated them for it. She could no longer bring herself to fight the experiments, even if they weren't the violent kind – and she knew the kinds of experiments they did here, the tortures they inflicted upon innocent civilians and opposing soldiers alike. They thought she couldn't hear them discuss it, laugh about the atrocities they regularly committed, but she could.

Either way, she knew they were monsters, the kind of men that shouldn't be allowed to walk on this earth, the men who were the reason the elves hated the humans. But she had only them to thank for the best thing she had ever had in her life: her son.

She knew he had been born as an experiment too. She was only too aware that they had only allowed her to keep him with her for so long, only allowed her the space, comfort and items that she needed to care for him to observe their behaviour to get yet more readings about her illusive race. She was also painfully aware that had his results on the rigorous IQ tests they had subjected him to not been as good as they were, they would have taken him from her and used him as just another host body,

That thought made her blood boil; that anyone, elf, half-elf, human or dwarf would ever willingly torture and brutally murder their own flesh and blood. It disgusted her. At her lowest points, she understood exactly why half-elves were so hated. Yuan, her beloved child, was half human, half a pitiful, revolting creature who would happily slaughter his own kin for his own gain.

There were times when she could barely stand to look at him, her own son, her family. Those times were more frequent now, as she watched how he slaved away for the recognition of his criminal father, especially now she knew he had been given a living being to work on and it wasn't just machinery he was experimenting on. But it wouldn't be fair; he was half hers too. It was her responsibility to make sure he didn't turn into a monster like the rest of them, to make sure he would continue to be her son and not just another scientist.

So she persevered. She put on a warm, welcoming smile; she hummed; she sang, she taught him of his heritage, told him tales she'd heard when she was much, much younger, tales from her life as free elf, that her mother had told her. She told him how proud she was of him, simply for being him, and how nothing he did mattered; she would always be proud of her beautiful boy.

And she would laugh as he ducked away in embarrassment, listen encouragingly to his stories, the things he'd heard other scientists say, his frustration or elation at his work with machines. And at night, if he stayed with her, she would stroke his hair while he slept. Her smile would melt away to be left with concern while she worried over his future.

The tell-tale click and beep combination as the code to unlock her door was keyed in alerted her to her visitor, causing her to jump out of her thoughts and rise from her seat at the simple table she had been awarded after Yuan had been born. That was one more advantage to her situation; now that Yuan was working for the facility and they had allowed him to remain with her throughout his childhood, they had been forced to provide her with enough items to keep her living in relative comfort to ensure the cooperation of their most promising technician.

It was much too early for Yuan to visit her though. The clock had only just struck two and her son usually worked at least until five. She moved over to the door and stood waiting as it slid back into the wall to admit a blue-haired, ponytailed figure in a pristine, white lab coat.

Her son stepped leisurely into the room, not flinching as the door slid closed as soon as he moved clear of it and away from the pressure pad that served as her doormat.

"You're early," she commented, as he seated himself on one of the two rickety chairs that came with the table. She had an armchair now too, but neither of them ever used it when in the company of the other. "Is everything alright?"

He didn't look too upset. His eyes sported a slightly troubled look, a frown tugging at his eyebrows, but he managed his usual, honest smile in response to her concern as she settled herself at the table opposite him.

"Mother..." he began, his mouth closing, the frown deepening as he realised he didn't know how to continue.

She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the table and her chin on the backs of her hands. Her vibrant blue hair, the exact same shade as his, pooled around her elbows, falling away from her face so he could clearly see the encouraging smile she directed at him.

He sighed, giving her a quick smile in return before asking slowly, delicately, "How do you teach a child to speak?"

Her eyebrows rose in response. She didn't need to ask the questions his question had elicited. She knew from the way Yuan's eyes dropped to the table that he knew he'd have to answer them. She merely watched him in silence while he planned the words he was going to use. He was logical and secretive now, so different from the little boy she remembered. Back then he'd been secretive too, but never to her.

"I... Mother, this probably sounds crazy, but I need to know how you teach children to speak. You taught me to speak, right?"

She nodded. "Why do you need to know?" she enquired, her own eyes as calculating as his were whenever he was thinking about work.

He sighed, pushing back the hair that framed his face, free of his ponytail. "The case they gave me is a child," he admitted almost guiltily.

She took in a harsh breath. "A child?" she echoed. "Oh, Yuan, no."

"It's not like that," he defended. He knew how much she hated the experimental side of the facility. He knew how she hated the idea of stealing innocent children away from their homes and families, how she only tolerated his involvement in interrogations of the Tethe'allan forces because it was the only reason he was allowed a free life within the facility.

"It isn't an experiment," he insisted. "I'm only supposed to get information from it. It's just, the kid's the son of a ninja summoner, either from Mizuho or Balacruf. I can't speak either of those languages."

"Most of them speak the common tongue as well, like the elves do," she said begrudgingly, the hardness in her eyes telling him how upset she was over the idea of a child being trapped within the facility, her answer only borne from the love she still held from her son and the knowledge that as soon as this project was complete and he had his information, he would be initiated into the tech labs officially, away from the horrors of the living experiments for good.

Yuan shook his head. "That's just it," he said, scowling. "The kid doesn't even speak. I introduced myself, and nothing."

"It is truly terrifying for a child to be ripped away from home and thrown into a cell," she hinted, boring into his bright, green eyes with her own open blue ones.

"I know," he responded, throwing out his hands before leaning back in his seat, arms folded, his scowl now more firmly in place. "But that's not it. I got a name in the end, but I had to repeat mine and act it out and stuff. The kid doesn't speak our language at all."

"You said the child gave you a name," she said. Yuan grunted in affirmation in the pause before she continued, "What is it?"

"Oh, the kid's name is Kratos," he revealed nonchalantly.

She smiled. "That's a strong name. The child is a little boy then?"

"Male, yes," Yuan confirmed. "But what has that got to do with it? Are boys harder to teach?"

"Apparently," she responded, a small frown tugging down her lips, to which her son reacted to with a low groan. "But you've missed the point. If this little boy has a name, you should use it."

Yuan's nose wrinkled in distaste. "It's only my project for a little while," he muttered in protest, ignoring his mother's sharp, piercing blue glance.

"It'll take longer than that if you're going to teach him how to speak," she said darkly, rising from the table into her little kitchenette. Leaning against the counter, she observed the way her son looked almost disgusted by the idea of spending any large amount of time working on something that wasn't as logical as blueprints and metal.

He clicked his teeth together in irritation and impatience, huffing at the prospect of the task he'd been given, Dara watching thoughtfully all the while he brooded, unsure or unwilling to ask his next question. She was aware of how aloof her son was and how little he knew of people, but she hadn't realised how deep his need to be away from them was until now.

She would tell him what he wanted to know. Maybe this project would beneficial to him. Maybe he could learn something from it. At the very least, he would teach him about the world. Maybe then, he'd understand.

Kratos lay curled into a ball beneath the scratchy fibres of the dusky blanket, his arms wrapped tightly around his battered body in the hope of locking in what little warmth there was to be had. His eyes remained wide, glassily open onto the blanket. He wasn't sure if he was tired or not; he was always tired, whether he had just woken or not, and time seemed to not exist between the four walls of his cell. There wasn't any sun to rise or set; there were only the lights, the dim, dismal lighting that gave power to the darkness.

At least, it had until that man had arrived, the man who had made the room brighter. The shadows didn't scare him anymore. The shadows had gone away. But the light hurt his eyes and shone through the blanket, washing him in a stormy sea of blue and grey. And he didn't know of this was any better.

His eyes drifted closed again. It could've been a second or an hour, but it was time. And it was time when the cell wasn't there anymore and the blanket wasn't a storm and he'd ran through a bush and been clumsy near the fire and he'd fallen down. Nothing else had happened to him, nothing sinister, only accidents not punishments. It was time his soul could have, back home, in his world, where there weren't men in white coats to shout at him, scream at him, hurt him. There was only the soft hum of voices, the laughter, the singing and his mother to hug him.

It was time he could feel safe with.

But it was over too soon. It was always over too soon. The door opened, the little boy being torn from his happy world into the harsh reality, jumping up, his heartbeat racing as the blanket fell away to reveal a man with blue hair and a white coat, the one who had made it brighter. He thought his name was Yuan, but he didn't understand the words he spoke. It was so confusing. Kratos didn't think he understood anything anymore.

"Hello Kratos," the man said in a friendly voice, as Kratos flinched at the sound of the door clanging closed. "See, I told you I'd come back today, didn't I?"

Kratos didn't understand. The man walked over to him, the boy cringing away, unable to move any further from the white coat, already crammed into the corner of his cot. He didn't know why they kept coming for him, why they couldn't just leave him alone. Why were they always so angry with him? What had he done wrong?

This man wasn't angry though. And he didn't understand this either. The man set down a basin of water on the ground by the cot, lifting a cloth from it and wringing it out.

"I know you can't understand a word I'm saying, but I'm not here to hurt you, okay? I don't want you get ill and die; I'd be demoted if anything like that happened to a sub- to you. Who am I kidding? You haven't got a clue what I'm saying anyway... yet. I could sing the alphabet and you'd probably think it was some kind of pagan ritual to steal your soul or something," Yuan said, more to the cloth than the child.

Deeming his task completed satisfactorily, he sat at the head of the bed, crossing his legs and smiling encouragingly. Kratos remembered that smile. He remembered it on a man's face, a black-haired man who tickled him and played with him when he was littler. He remembered it on many faces, nice faces, faces of people who cared for him. But it had been on the other man's face at first too, the man who had shouted at him, the one who made him hurt.

He didn't know what it meant anymore. Nothing meant the same here as it had before he'd been brought here. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

"Here, look," Yuan indicated, holding the cloth out to him, slowly reaching for his cheek with it.

Kratos jerked his head back, releasing a small cry as it smashed into the wall behind him. He wasn't sure. He didn't know. What did Yuan want? Why couldn't he leave him alone?

Yuan sighed. "It's not going to hurt you. Look, it cleans, see?" He brought it up to his own cheek and rubbed it, leaving the skin there slightly wet, Kratos' eyes drawn to the way the light sparkled from the water left behind there.

The cloth moved back towards him, the child choosing to remain eerily still this time, screwing his eyes shut as if to block out the possibility of pain only for them to snap back open as he felt the warmth seep through his skin from the damp cloth as Yuan gently rubbed his cheek with it.

Amusement twinkled in the half-elf's eyes, a small chuckle escaping him with the words, "Heh, yeah, it's warm too. See, it's not scary, is it? It isn't so bad."

Kratos blinked rapidly as Yuan swept the cloth all over his face, rearranging a towel over his shoulder to enable him to hold back Kratos' hair and rub softly at the dirt and dried blood that stained the boy's skin. Kratos found himself relaxing into the first kind contact he had received from the men in white coats since he had been brought to the facility.

The half-elf noticed, offering a small, pleased smile at the progress as he returned the cloth to the basin, wringing it out again to bring it back up to the boy's face and give it another careful scrub. That done, he threw the cloth back to the basin again and held Kratos' head in his much larger, long fingered hands, the child growing more anxious, his eyes gradually widening, heartbeat quickening as the man continued to study him.

"Good," he said, leaning back. "At least there's nothing on your face that needs more medical attention."

His eyes moved from Kratos to the basin, the child releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, relief washing over him at the prospect of the focus being elsewhere, not on him for once.

Then the white coat wearing man frowned and Kratos shrank back again. What had he done this time? He hadn't meant to, whatever it was, he hadn't meant to upset the man. He didn't want Yuan to be angry with him too. He wanted to say he was sorry and make it alright again, but he didn't know how to. He'd already tried that with the other man and the other man had been furious. He didn't want to have to hurt again; he already hurt.

"You're really... less clean than I was expecting," Yuan finally concluded. "You need a proper bath, but if I take you to get one, protocol dictates you'll have to be chained and then you'll panic again, won't you?"

He turned back to the child, who was doing just that, breathing quickly, preparing himself for the pain. It didn't hurt so badly when he was ready for it. When he couldn't see it coming it was always so much worse.

Yuan released a low groan, then reached out to the child with a reassuring smile. "This lab coat needs a wash anyway," he reasoned, ruffling the child's hair and causing Kratos to flinch and screw his eyes shut. "I'm not here to hurt you," he repeated. "Come here."

With that, he pulled the small, frail form of the terrified child into his arms, ignoring the shrill cry the action incited. Kratos' entire body stiffened into a horrified rigidity, his eyes snapping open, wide and panicked. Yuan's heartbeat thumped and thudded in his ears, its steady rhythm calming him with the large hand that rubbed warmth and comfort into his back.

He found himself relaxing, the soft vibrations of Yuan's quiet voice flowing around him as the man soothed him in his strange tongue. He could smell something natural about the man, a clean scent that seemed to envelop the child. It was nothing like home, like the hugs his mother had given him; she smelled of leather, soap and home. But it was still a feeling. One that he didn't mind feeling in this horrible new life.

But he was so tired now, so, so tired. His eyelids fluttered closed slowly, the boy snapping them open once again each time he realised he was falling asleep, just wanting to stay in the comforting embrace, listen to the soft melody of Yuan's voice, the weird words filling the air around him.

But he was just a child, an exhausted child, and he lost the battle and closed his eyes and drifted into dreams.

AN: Okay, that's where this chapter cuts. This is a little slow for a beginning but it will get a lot better; I'm working on it.

Anyway, thank you for reading. Thanks to all the reviewers; you guys are the best! And as usual, any thoughts you have on it would be greatly appreciated.

Next chapter will see some fluffiness and the plot will thicken...

Until next chapter,

~ThePurpleRose