Collaboration with Glorifiedscapegoat.

Shion stared up at the ceiling. The popcorn marks in the cement stretched in bizarre patterns; Shion passed the time counting them, tracing shapes in the marks and picturing them as constellations.

Without windows or a clock, he had no idea what time it could be. Hitomi and Rin had dozed off a couple of hours ago. Shion listened to Rin snuffling against their paper-thin pillow, the cot creaking beneath them as they rolled over. Aki hadn't moved much; his cot groaned as he shifted his weight, but for the most part, he was quiet.

Shion, however, couldn't sleep. His mind raced, piecing together the bits and pieces of the complex puzzle that'd been placed in front of him. He had nothing better to do. He'd slept enough for one lifetime; his body burned with anticipation, the thrum of feral desperation to escape surging through his blood.

He exhaled, hard. The phantom taste of the tomato juice he'd sipped several hours prior sat heavily on his tongue. Not the best thing he'd swallowed, but better than nothing. The liquids had soothed his sore throat, and if it allowed him to finally communicate effectively with his cellmates, he'd suffer through it.

His mind rifled through the events that'd taken place since Lab Coat's horrible visit. Shion had managed to break ground with his cellmates. They were as wild and desperate for freedom as he was―after years trapped in this horrid place, they had to be. Shion just needed to dig deep, find those thoughts, and help coax them to the surface.

He continued to trace patterns on the ceiling with his eyes while he collected his thoughts. If he wanted to escape, he'd have to take stock of what resources he had at his disposal.

His powers had been eliminated, at least for now. Whatever they'd injected him with kept his powers dormant―otherwise he would have shaken this cage to the ground by now. The cocktail of tranquilizers began to bleed out of his system, but their hooks clung to him. He wouldn't be much use until they'd completely fazed out.

So, what else did he have?

Shion couldn't utilize his cellmates until they were as hungry for escape as he felt. It wouldn't be difficult to urge them to seek freedom. Shion would tell them stories of the world beyond the stark-white walls and cement of the Lab. He'd recount the sights he'd seen during his weeks on the road with Nezumi―the crystal-clear streams, green grass, pretty towns with little lights once the sun went down, the stars on a clear night―and get them excited for the lives they could live, if only they could break out of these cells. With the four of them, Shion suspected it wouldn't be impossible.

Difficult, yes.

But not impossible.

The only other hindrance became that Shion didn't know the layout of the Lab. He'd been unconscious when they dragged him here, and until he formulated a solid plan, escaping wasn't in the cards.

What good would escaping do if he ran right into a rain of bullets?

Shion rolled over, the cot groaning beneath him. He felt restless, laying still, but he didn't want to disturb the others. They'd dozed off some time ago, and Shion wanted to give them the chance to rest. Talking with them about the possibility of escape would be much easier if their minds weren't muddled by sleep deprivation.

Beyond the glass wall separating him from the rest of the Lab, Shion stared at the blank floors and walls. It seemed decently clean, certainly not filthy enough to warrant a cleaner coming again anytime soon.

An image of the cleaner's dark eyes and frightened face flickered through his mind. Shion replayed the encounter over and over again in his head, searching for anything he might be able to use. The way the cleaner had flinched when Shion spoke to him, and how quickly he'd snatched up the container of juice after Shion assured him he and his cellmates wouldn't harm him.

Sorry.

He pressed his lips together. The cleaner had apologized to him. He feared Shion and the others, that much was clear, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface.

Most of the workers in Horizon Labs didn't seem to regret their decision to dabble in human experimentation, but the cleaner was on a different level than Lab Coat and the agents who'd stalked him and Nezumi.

The backs of his eyes stung suddenly.

Nezumi.

The last Shion had seen of him, Nezumi had kissed him on the cheek right before the world went dark. They'd been trying to escape to the van and move on, urged forward by Nezumi's sudden feeling of anxiety.

Shion clenched his eyes to keep the tears from falling. Where had they brought Nezumi? He wasn't down here with the others, and if what Rin said was true, then the ones down here were rumored to be dead.

Shion prayed Nezumi didn't think he was dead. That seemed right up the Lab's alley—tricking Nezumi into thinking his partner had been eliminated.

Nezumi had evaded the Lab for years, costing them thousands of dollars in resources every time he slipped off their radar. It made sense that they'd want to torment him.

Nezumi. Shion remembered the sensation of Nezumi's body pressed against him, snuggling under the comforter for warmth in the cabin. They'd been there to heal and recoup, but for a little while, Nezumi seemed to unwind and relax. Where are you? Are you safe?

Shion turned and burrowed his face into the musty pillow. The fabric dampened as he let the tears fall. He didn't like crying, but lying alone with these feelings felt worse. If he wanted to escape, he'd need to make sure his head was clear.

Shion wished he could send Nezumi a message. He wished Nezumi's telepathy worked in a way that Shion could call out to him and Nezumi would hear. If he could, he'd assure him that he was alive and safe, no matter what the Lab might have tried to convince him, and that with some work, they'd find a way out of here.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He hoped Nezumi was safe. If they could talk, then they could find a way out of here.

But that was wishful thinking. If Shion wanted to get out of here, find Nezumi, and get them both somewhere safe, then he'd have to do it on his own. He didn't have Nezumi's ability to pull emotions and thoughts to the surface or convince people to do his bidding, but he did have his own charms. His own weapons.

He just had to find a way to utilize them.

But for now, Shion closed his eyes and sent his thoughts out to Nezumi. It was a fruitless endeavor, but thinking about his partner felt better than laying in the shadows, miserable and alone. He drifted into the darkness, remembering the brush of Nezumi's lips against his own.

Nezumi. Wherever you are, I hope you're alright.

⁂

Nezumi stared at the blank walls. His new cell looked nothing at all like the old one in Section M. This prison cell had only a single solid door with a thin bar of light streaming from the tiny gap beneath it, a slider that could be yanked aside from the outside and a tiny meal slot on the bottom that locked from the outside, too.

The thick gray of the walls echoed around him. Nezumi counted each dot embedded in the stucco concrete, his heart hammering.

Sometimes tears slipped down his cheeks. He didn't cry―not the way he had back at the cabin, when he and Shion poured their hearts out to each other in the comfort of his parents' abandoned bedroom―but the tears came, all the same.

When his parents had died, Nezumi mourned. He'd never stopped mourning them. Some days were easier than others, but there were nights when Nezumi lay in the darkness and couldn't think of anything but the warmth of his parents' arms around him, their bedtime stories and the cruel twist of fate that had taken them away.

The crimson letters flashed to the forefront of his mind, piecing together to spell out that horrible word that revealed Shion's fate:

Terminated.

Nezumi had no more energy to mourn. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, and the thin pillow was damp when his eyelids fluttered open. But he didn't sink to the ground and scream, beat his fists against the cement until they bled, or rip the Lab to the ground. He hadn't done much since the guards shoved him into this room.

Rashi's barked commands to his officers had drifted around him like smoke; Nezumi couldn't hear much of them through the ringing in his brain as the guards had hauled him to his feet, shoved the burlap sack over his head, and latched his wrists behind his spine. Mirai's bleeding corpse vanished behind the pale brown fabric.

The metal cuffs had pressed the charms of Shion's bracelet painfully into his skin; the sharp sensation jarred Nezumi out of his mindless state. He choked at the pain, at the sudden realization that this was the only thing he had left of Shion. He didn't struggle as the guards shoved him forward, marching him along down the halls.

He'd expected the interrogation.

Rashi wasn't present for it. The officer charged with interrogating him—some tall guy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes who didn't give his name when he came storming in—had shouted at Nezumi that the nerve damage he'd caused to Officer Rashi's hand might prevent him from moving his middle finger ever again.

Nezumi didn't respond to the officer's shouted questions. The words fell around him like stones: How did you instigate that riot? We know you did it, so you might as well fess up! Things are going to get much worse for you if you don't comply.

Nezumi had stared at a single spot on the wall, ignoring everything as the officer shouted at him until he gave up. He'd stared at the wall when Tsuyu came marching in, clutching a baton, and threatening to beat him black and blue if he didn't respond to their questioning. The threat hadn't resulted in anything—perhaps a higher officer or that creepy guy in white had given the order not to harm him.

Hours had passed before the guards gave up and decided solitary confinement might help loosen his tongue. They'd dragged the burlap sack over his head again, dragged him to another cell, and shoved him inside before slamming the door.

Nezumi didn't know how much time had passed since he slowly picked himself off the ground, pulled the burlap bag from his head, and took in his new surroundings.

He was numb. The thin blanket he'd dragged over himself since being relocated to solitary offered little comfort, but Nezumi couldn't feel the temperature of the cell.

He slept often. Staring at the walls didn't help him escape from the misery threatening to drown him, but sleeping felt better than nothing. He gripped Shion's charm bracelet as he slept, squeezing it so hard the charms bit into his skin and left indents.

This time, when he woke up, he'd be back in the cabin. He would. He'd wake up in the cabin, and Shion would be curled on the mattress at his side, dozing. His mouth would be opened, just slightly, and maybe there'd be a little puddle of drool next to him that Nezumi would tease him about for the rest of the day. After Shion finally woke, they'd find something to eat, then spend the day rearranging the cabin to suit their needs.

When they exhausted themselves and night fell, they'd eat something to tide them over for the night, and then tumble back into bed. They'd kiss―gently, not the desperate flurry of teeth and nails Nezumi was accustomed to―and then fall asleep, wrapped around each other beneath the warmth of the comforter.

This time, when he woke up, the nightmare would be over.

Nezumi's heart ached. When he woke to find himself curled uncomfortably on the thin cot, his spine screaming from the position he'd fallen asleep in, a small part of him died all over again.

He went through the motions without thinking. He used the toilet when the pain in his hips became too much to bear. He showered when he couldn't stand the layer of grime clinging to him from hours laying motionless on the cot. He ate only when the pain in his stomach began to penetrate the pale darkness flooding his brain.

He paced the cell when his legs ached, but he wasn't there mentally. The world around him felt cold and vast. There was truly no one now. Nezumi had lost everyone and everything that ever mattered to him.

Shion's face, the bloody red letters announcing his fate, flashed in his mind's eye. Nezumi's throat tightened, and more tears slipped down his face. He'd never told Shion how he felt. It had died in the air between them, all because Nezumi was too much of a coward to lay out his insecurities to the one person left in the world who cared about him.

Nezumi remembered the phantom sensation of Shion laying in his arms. The comfortable weight of him stretched on his arm while they slept beside one another, the tips of Nezumi's fingers turning numb. The lingering scents of soap and warmth radiating from him.

A soft thump echoed behind him. Nezumi's eyelids fluttered open. He slowly eased himself off the cot, into a sitting position. He glanced over his shoulder, toward the door, and saw a pair of spectacles staring back at him through the slot in the door.

Rashi hadn't visited since Nezumi was hauled into solitary a few days prior. He'd been there to deliver a swift kick to Nezumi's back, sending him sprawling on the ground in the storage room, but beyond that, he'd been absent. Nezumi didn't know if he'd see him again, not if what the other officer had shouted at him was true.

A quick survey of the shape of the glasses and the dark eyes behind them revealed that his visitor wasn't Officer Rashi.

It was the doctor in the white lab coat.