AN: I do apologise it took so long, but I really wanted to go over this chapter before posting it, and I only now got the time. Hope you like it. xo
Chapter 1
Manchester, UK, 1988
He didn't really know where he was going.
The streets of Manchester were familiar, but with no destination in mind, he quickly lost his way. Not that it mattered in any way; he had nowhere to go and no intention of going back home. He took everything that mattered when he left; the rest was expendable.
He woke up hungry that morning. He took the last of the snacks and then went over the house, looking for anything valuable. Now, after a night's sleep, the sadness and regret were gone, instead being replaced by rage. He couldn't believe they'd really left him. As if it wasn't enough that they tortured him, now they just walked away? A tiny part of him tried to argue that maybe they'd be back, or maybe they had a good reason, but he shut it off. There was no place for it anymore.
He didn't find much. They'd already taken valuable, except some money and the few valuables he had in his room. He shoved them and the recordings of the experiments into a small backpack, took his favourite Eric Brantford shirt, and left the house.
Right around the corner there was a café. His parents used to take him there after the rugby games. They'd go to the university and watch the game, and when they came back, they'd always stop at the café. His father would order him a cake.
He didn't intend to stop, but when he saw the cake in the showcase, he suddenly fancied a piece. So he walked in, hoping it wouldn't matter that he's a child and he doesn't have any money. Maybe the man standing by the coffee machine would be nice to him and give it to him for free.
So he stopped by the counter and stood on the tip of his toes. The man came closer, looking at him curiously.
"Are you lost, son?" He asked.
Kevin shook his head. Could he be lost if he wasn't going anywhere? He wasn't sure. "I want a piece of that cake," He said, pointing at the cake.
To his surprise, the man walked towards the showcase and brought the cake to the counter. He cut a piece and placed it on a simple white plate. He then handed it to Kevin along with a spoon and watched as he took it to a nearby table and sat down. He ate silently, enjoying every bite of the cake, watching the people outside.
When he finished, he got up and turned to leave. That's when the man stopped him, sounding a bit angry.
"Aren't you forgetting something, son?" He asked, quickly going around the counter and towards Kevin.
The boy looked at the table where he ate. He'd taken his backpack when he got up. The only things he left there were the plate and the spoon.
"No," He said, looking back at the man.
Suddenly, the man relaxed. "Have a great day," He said, smiling at him. Kevin nodded back politely and left, leaving the confused cashier behind him.
Three hours later, he was still walking in the streets. A few people stopped him to ask if he's lost or in need of help, but he shook them off. He didn't need some strangers' help. The truth was he didn't even know what he needed.
He briefly considered going to the university. He wasn't sure where he was, but he had no doubt he could find his way there. The University of Manchester wasn't exactly hidden away. Any one of the cabs he saw on his way would be able to take him there.
Maybe they would be able to tell him where his parents were.
Even though he was still angry, a part of him was feeling a bit lonely. He didn't have any friends to go to; his whole life was spent either in the university or at home. His parents were the only people he'd ever known. There was no grandmother, no grandfather, no other relative he could go to. He was certain there was a family, but his parents never talked about them. All they talked about was the experiments.
Thinking about the experiments only made him angrier. They used him. His entire life, they used him, tortured him, and now they just left him. Abandoned him, all on his own. He hated them for it.
He sat down on a bench, looking at the street. It was much easier to hate them when he wasn't alone.
He felt a sudden pang of sadness. In spite of all, he did miss them.
Maybe the university was his best bet.
He stopped the first cab he saw. The cabbie glanced at him through the mirror, looking a bit confused to see a ten-year-old on his own. He wasn't quite sure how to act; he rarely talked to someone who wasn't either one of his parents.
So he did what he knew.
"To the University of Manchester," He said, looking back at the driver through the mirror.
The cabbie's expression cleared. He nodded briefly and drove away.
Kevin turned to face the window. The city flew by, familiar streets following unfamiliar ones, but he wasn't paying attention. He was thinking. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to find his parents. He wasn't sure what he wanted to find.
"University of Manchester," The cabbie announced, cutting his thoughts off.
Kevin looked up. In front of him waited the entrance he knew as well as the entrance to his home. He could feel his heart beating faster. Even though he hasn't been to any of the labs in a couple of years, just the thought of being near them was enough to make him uncomfortable. He felt sweat running down his spine, and when he raised his hand, he could see it shaking.
He was afraid.
"That'll be–" The cabbie started, but Kevin looked up at him and cut him off.
"Thank you," He said, not even paying attention to what the driver was saying. And just like that, the man stopped talking and nodded at him in a silent greeting. Kevin took a deep breath – as deep as he could, with that lump in his throat – grabbed his backpack and left the cab.
Inside the university there were more people. Professors, walking around in pairs or on their own; students, chatting and joking in groups as they walked into classes or out of them; visitors, looking around in wonder; and even several children, about his age, running around or sticking to the older men and women who walked around.
His first steps were hesitant, but as he turned towards the neuroscience department, he grew more confident. He's gone down that path so many times they he knew it by heart. He was certain that once he reaches the department, everyone will know who he is.
Despite the fact it was the middle of the day, the neuroscience department was oddly quiet. He found his parents' office easily, but the office was completely stripped of everything personal. There were tables and chairs, pens and papers spread over them, but everything that belonged to his parents was gone. Even the sign on the door, which used to say Albert and Louise Thompson, was gone.
He glanced around, and once he was certain he was alone, walked into the room. He opened every drawer saw and looked at every paper he could find. But no matter how hard he looked, he found nothing to indicate that the room was ever inhabited by someone.
He took a deep breath and headed to the labs.
Just the thought of them made him feel sick. The closer he got to the oh-so-familiar rooms, the worse he felt. Wherever he looked, he could see memories – being forced into those rooms; being held by his parents as they took blood and spinal fluid; being watched as he completed yet another test. It was so alive in his mind that for a moment he almost forgot how different the present was.
The labs were just as quiet as the rest of the department. He looked through the drawers and cabinets, looking for something that wasn't standard lab equipment, anything that could tell him where his parents were.
He found some more of the tapes his parents used to record their experiments. They were all labelled in father's neat handwriting with the name of the child, the dates and the lab. At first he wanted to destroy them, but when he thought about it, he realized they might still prove themselves useful. He shoved all the tapes he could find into his backpack, stacking them next to the tapes he found at home. Unlike the ones he brought with him, all the new tapes had other children's names on them. He didn't know what use they might have – unless one of the other children wanted them too, he thought bitterly – but he knew it would be reckless to destroy them without giving it any thought.
Another thing he must have taken from his parents, he realised as he moved to the next lab. Record-keeping. Weren't his parents the best at that.
Just like the first one, this lab was empty. There were papers shuffled on one of the desks, but as he read the first couple of lines of each one, he came to realise they had nothing to do with him or his parents. Research papers, exams, lab reports – nothing valuable.
He was in the middle of rummaging through the fifth lab when he heard a voice coming from the entrance.
"Are you lost?"
He looked up to find a young woman standing at the door, looking at him curiously. Her voice was kind and she was smiling at him, clearly trying to put him at ease. At first he thought she must have been a student, but then he noticed the ID card attached to her shirt. She was one of the staff.
"I'm looking for Albert and Louise Thompson," He explained.
"Are they rats?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
He frowned at her. Why would she think that? "No. They're my parents."
She blushed. "Stupid joke," She mumbled, embarrassed. "They work here?" He nodded briefly. "Maybe I can help you. What were you looking for here?"
"The records of their experiments," He replied before looking around the room. "I need them."
She nodded immediately. "Come with me while I check-"
"I'll stay here."
He thought she'd resist, like they always did on the telly, but she didn't. Instead, she just said, "I'll be right back", and left him on his own.
He shrugged it off and returned to the papers.
By the time she was back half an hour later, he'd found a few of his parents' early works. Things to do with viruses and neurological disease – he wasn't sure anyone who wasn't a professor could understand it. He simply shoved them into his backpack, deciding to go over them later.
"What's your name?" She asked gently when she returned.
"Where are they?" He asked in response. He wasn't keen on telling her anything.
Once again, she didn't argue. "Albert and Louise filed their resignation this morning," She replied. "They left the university."
He looked at her silently for a moment, his mind reeling. They really did leave him. Where could they have gone? Why would they leave him? He couldn't find an answer to those questions.
"Where did they go?" He asked, hoping she'd know.
But she just shrugged. "All they said was that they received a grant and they're leaving England. They didn't even leave an address or a number. They're just gone."