Learning to Cope

They'd taken his bag at the door and with it went his extra clothes, a couple of comics, and - worst of all - his walkman and headset. He'd told them no when they had asked, but then they'd just taken it anyway. Martin had fought, but it hadn't taken a lot to haul him off his feet and start down the hall to the room where they'd instructed him to strip, shower, and change into the white jumpsuit with a symbol sewn into it that he didn't recognize. All like it was the most normal thing in the world.

As he stood in the shower, feeling the hot water burning his fair skin, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was completely and utterly alone in the world.

He had had no one to help stop this. He was a minor, and now that they had ahold of him they sure as hell weren't going to let him live on his own. His mother had been all he'd had in the world. He had no idea what had happened to his father - nor did he care to ask - and if his mother had had extended family they were long gone by now. It had just been them. Now she was hospitalized and he wasn't much better off.

Martin frowned at the ugly jumpsuit. It was too bright and too heavy. Instead of pulling it up around his shoulders like he was supposed to he left it hanging halfway at his waist, the tank top they'd given him to put under it serving as his sole shirt. He blatantly ignored the woman that tried to tell him to fix it. If they thought that he was there to be their perfect little lab rat, they'd have something else coming.

The shoes they left for him were too soft compared to his usual heavy boots that he wore. They squeaked with every step, making it impossible to not alert the world to his presence and by the time that he was led to his new room he was in a foul mood.

It was too perfect, but not for him. The walls were bright white, freshly painted. The bed was made, every corner of the sheets tucked in at all the right places. There was a desk with books and a pad of paper and a bin full of pens. An open closet showed several sets of jumpsuits just like the one he wasn't wearing correctly then and another pair of the horrible shoes. It was stifling. Suffocating. Like a pristine little cage so the rat didn't know he was in the lab. He turned his nose up at it and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose irritably.

"Don't like it?"

Martin whirled around, finding Major Scott Riggs standing with his hands clasped in front of him. "I want my stuff back. They took it."

Riggins nodded, but something told Martin that didn't mean he was agreeing to do as the teen had demanded. It was an acknowledgement that he'd been heard. "It's an adjustment, I know, but we need to limit outside contacts to get the best results. A controlled environment will help us narrow down what needs to be done to better help you control what you can do."

Blue eyes narrowed and Martin stared at him for a long moment. He could smell something off of him. It wasn't fear, but something else. He wasn't sure what yet. "Least give me my music."

"Eventually. Maybe."

"What'dya expect me to do until then? Make friends in the freak zoo? Or am I the only one here?"

"There are others. I imagine you've… sensed them. But no, not yet. Again, we're limiting outside contact. You'll keep a steady schedule. Up at five for testing. Breakfast at seven. Morning studies to make sure you don't fall behind. Afternoon testing begins after a lunch period and it's lights out at ten."

"I don't like quiet."

"It'll help you focus."

"I don't have a problem focusing."

"Don't you?" Riggins asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He motioned into the room. "The room is yours. I'd say it's a little bigger than what you're used to back home, wouldn't you? It'll start to feel like your own soon." He patted Martin on the shoulder and made a comment about zipping the jumpsuit up before turning to leave, the doors shutting automatically behind him.

Martin couldn't sleep that night. He tried, but he was still buzzing with energy and it was too quiet in the room. The walls were too thick and too bright and it was too quiet. It was deafening like his mother's screams that morning.


Martin had been poked and prodded by enough doctors for a lifetime. Nothing bothered him any more, and it hadn't even occurred to him to be nervous over the testing. He'd assumed it meant what it always did: drawing enough blood work to feed a small coven of vampires, a few physical tests, maybe some scans….

Blackwing wanted that and more.

The first round of morning testing left him exhausted and achy, though funny enough the electric shock had actually given him a burst of energy rather than taking it from him. They were more interested in that than Martin liked.

He had thought they might finally show him the cafeteria when breakfast time rolled around, but instead they delivered him into a mostly empty room. It was pitch black, but he could smell the fear rolling off the other person there. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours or so of being in Blackwing's custody he got the impression that choosing to go with them had been a bonzo bad idea.

The lights flashed on without warning and Martin squinted hard. His eyes finally adjusted and he saw a terrified man strapped to a chair, a gag in his mouth keeping him mostly quiet. His fear spiked and it tasted amazing, and Martin got it. Breakfast. The guy was breakfast.

"Good morning, Martin," Riggins greeted over a loudspeaker and the teen squared his shoulders.

"No."

"You're never going to learn to control it without practice."

It was so practical sounding, or would have been if the bound man weren't whimpering like a kicked dog.

"I might kill him. No."

There was a short sigh before the comm cut and Martin heard the door unlock. He scrambled for it before they changed their minds. Or before he changed his. The man smelled like a damned feast, but he couldn't control it, and he was far from desperate enough to be forced into it.

Riggins was waiting on him with two armed guards. Martin eyes them warily and Riggins waved them off. He took a step forward. "Martin, I told you when you came in that we're not going to let you starve to death in here."

"So just put me in the room with him," the teen snapped. "I'll… I dunno, soak it up. It happens sometimes. Anywhere there's a lot of people with a lot of hype."

"Is that how you've been doing it?" Riggins asked curiously. "It won't last, son. You're proof of that right here. You may gain some time, but you will starve if you don't feed."

"You don't know that. You said you don't know how it works, so you can't know that!"

Riggins sighed, his expression reminding Martin of so many other adults that seemed to think they knew best. They rarely did in his experience. They did want to control though. "Okay."

Blue eyes blinked hard. That had been unexpected. "Okay?"

"I can't help you if you won't help yourself, son, but unless you feed, you're not going to survive long. I didn't bring you here to die."

The words hadn't sounded like a threat, not then. It was days later that one of the scientists that were supposed to be helping him fit him into a machine, locked him down, and flipped a switch.

Martin screamed. The sound echoed in the room and bounced off the walls as his back arched and somewhere amidst the pain he felt the hard tug of the straps against his wrists and ankles. It wasn't electricity. That he could take. That he could absorbed. This was something very different and it hurt like hell.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted. It could have been seconds, but it felt like it would never end, and when it finally released him he collapsed back against the table. Everything pulsed around him. He didn't think they'd taken his glasses, but he felt like he'd stick his head under water and opened his eyes. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe. He could barely think through the pain and the clawing hunger. It had only been this bad once before that he remembered, and it hadn't been that long. He shouldn't be this bad yet.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Martin felt them unstrapping him and lifting him up. He couldn't focus on where they were taking him or do anything except being dragged between them.

He must have lost consciousness somewhere in there because when he opened his eyes he was seated on the floor, propped up against the wall. His head was killing him and his limbs were heavy. Everything hurt and the hunger was strong enough to make him sick.

Then there was the smell and it drew his undivided attention. The same man from days before was strapped to the chair in the middle of the same room. He was terrified and a struggling, muffled cry escaping him.

Energy flooded his system, filling him up and replenishing strength. Martin pulled himself to his feet, staggering just a little against the wall even as the door opened. He turned, a deep growl startling him, especially when he realized it had come from his own throat. He felt better. Stronger. More focused. He also felt like taking Riggins' head off about then. "You son of a bitch!" he snarled as he exploded forward, but suddenly he found the pair of guards from days before with their guns aimed directly at him and he slammed to a stop.

Riggins was completely unruffled. "I told you I didn't bring you here to die, Martin. I'm not going to let you starve yourself to death because you're stubborn. You are my responsibility, do you understand that?"

"Gonna gave them shoot me?" the teen growled. "Lota good that'd do."

"It won't do any actual damage, but what comes out of those guns will pack a hell of a punch."

"So what? Is this the plan from here on out? If I refuse to go through with one of your crazy tests or refuse to feed off of someone you zap the hell out of me and force me?"

"I hope not. That's not going to get either if anywhere. Walk with me, Martin. They're not going to hurt you, because you're not a threat, are you?"

Martin snapped his snarky retort short and his shoulders sagged a little. Pick your battles. That was a lesson his mother had always tried to teach him and he was doing this to help save her. He was trapped in this place and even if he attacked Riggins right then he'd never be able to fight his way out from where he was. It might feel really good right about then, but it'd be pointless.

He followed Riggins back to his room, listening to the older man explain that things were different because he was different. Special. He would have to adjust and that would take time. Riggins understood and he'd help in any way he knew how. They would learn together.

Martin let him talk, his silence taken as acceptance and he was left alone to his pristine cage with its white walls. He stood there a moment, excess energy stirring inside, desperate for a release.

Well, Riggins had told him they were going to help him to cope.

It didn't take him long to trash the room, but he felt better for it in the end. They wouldn't though, and that'd just be the cherry on top.


Notes: Originally this was going to be two different chapters, but I decided it flowed a bit better as one, so you get a bit longer one this time. I've gotten some really positive feedback from this little series, so I'm glad you're enjoying it!