Sorry for the long wait if anyone was waiting! Though, really, I update some of my stories slower than this one, so I guess it's not really that long of a wait when you think of that... or whatever. Anyway, I hope you like it.
I also hope that Hei won't kill me in a dream of mine or something because of the shit I put him through in this story.
...Enjoy! :D
The group peeked through the opening slit in the curtain to see the man scratching his left leg in glee, having finally gotten the cast removed from his leg to take out the stitches from the bullet wound. The skin of the wound was still an ugly, angry color, but it would eventually fade into nothing but a scar on the back of his calf instead. He felt the gaze on him and looked up to return it. Immediately, they awkwardly shuffled their feet, the focus of their eyes changing to anything but the man lying in the hospital bed, his left arm still handcuffed to the side of the bed. His attention returned to his leg after a second more of looking back.
He was grateful that they had permanently removed the cuff from his right arm, but the fact that he still had one on his left arm was greatly infuriating. He managed to keep his emotions in check, luckily, whenever he pressed the alert button to get their attention, and then waited for five minutes for a nurse to come and escort him to the bathroom. He could only imagine how long it would take for them to come if he had a real emergency besides an extremely full bladder. They didn't seem too keen of him for whatever reason.
Testing the cuff again, just in case it had somehow unlocked since he had last checked about five minutes earlier, he sat back with a sigh. It was as fastened as ever. It wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. His eyes roved over the inside of the curtain he knew all too well, his eyes drifting up to the celling. Was that crack there, by the light new? No, it had been there since the beginning. Letting out a sigh he glanced over to where the group of people was still standing, talking amongst themselves with heated whispers. One of them, a woman with glasses, he had seen a lot. She had been the one to question him a few weeks back, though it felt like years. The rest of the group he had seen sparsely, and they only seemed to come with the woman, who seemed to have an air of leadership about her. Their leader, maybe?
"-he's lying," the man's ears perked up as he heard the words drift over from their conversation. It was the first words he had heard from them. Shutting his eyes, he tried to concentrate everything on just trying to listen to what they were saying.
"His eyes – otherwise. I'm not – what to think," that was the woman this time around. He still hadn't gotten around to learning her name yet. He made a mental note to do so the next time they were alone or when she was asking him more questions he had no answers to. It was time for him to ask a few questions of his own.
"Look- asleep again," one of the men muttered and he could practically see their heads turn to look at him, even though his eyes were closed still.
He let them flutter back open, "Nope, just trying to listen to your conversation," he could barely suppress his grin at the identical shocked faces that slapped themselves on their faces. He settled for a small smirk instead. The woman was the first to recover, making her way over to the curtain and pulling it aside, giving him a look at much more of the area he was in on the other side of the curtain. The whole place was white, from the walls to the ceiling, to the floor. Even the doors were white. Too bad their knobs were a shining gold, contrasting against the colorless scene.
"Think you could get me some food? My stomach is telling me it's about lunchtime for me. She stared at him for a few seconds before nodding in reply. She sighed and pushed her glasses back further up on her nose, something he noticed she did when she was nervous of something. He tilted his head, looking up at her from his laid back position, wanting to ask her what was wrong, but knowing that really wasn't the best of things to be asking at this time, with all her men staring at them. So instead he gave her a toothed smile, "Thanks."
She frowned slightly before turning and leaving his area, fully closing the curtains closed behind her so he could no long peer out at the group. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He'd been trying to talk to her for the past few weeks, but he barely ever got any words out of her. All he got were questions thrown at him, which sometimes resulted in a massive headache. The group outside left, their shadow no longer casting on his curtain and he waited patiently for his food to arrive. He was just glad he was strong enough to feed himself now because the first time had just been awkward. Letting his eyes rest, he just listened to the sounds around him.
The rhythmic tapping of her shoes alerted him of her return and he snapped his eyes back open, staring at where she would come back through. The curtain was pushed aside by her elbow and his eyes lit up as he noted she was carrying two trays instead of one. She set them on the tray table and moved it over the bed so it was in place. Next, she tilted his bed into a sitting position and handed him a fork. He took it with a nod of thanks, staring down at the food. It was the same as usual, but he didn't really care. Just so long as he got food he was happy. Pulling up her regular chair, she sat down on it, perched on the edge of the seat, and crossed her legs.
"Two helpings, huh? I see that you're learning," he said with a smile before digging into the food in front of him as best he could. She blushed slightly at his words, but it went unnoticed by him, his full attention on his meal as he inhaled it. In no time he had finished what he had in front of him, but his stomach still growled for more. Knowing the drill by now, she collected the trays and left, returning a few minutes later with two full trays, setting them down in front of him. A few trips later and he sat back against his bed, a content smile on his face as he let out a satisfied sigh. He turned his head to speak to her, but she was already disappearing, the latest trays in her hand and his smile was replaced with a frown, figuring he had just lost the perfect opportunity for him to ask a few questions.
A nurse came to his side to make sure that everything was orderly and working correctly, giving the machines curt nods as she went through the list of what to do in her head. Finally, she concluded that everything was as it should be and left the area, reclosing the curtain behind her. He stared up at the ceiling of his small area before turning his head to the right, looking over at the bathroom door a few feet from his bed. They were really the only things to look at in this otherwise bland place and he was beginning to suspect that he was finding the color white quite repulsive after all this time lying in bed, swimming in the color. Half the lights clicked off, they never fully shut them all off, and he guessed it was their way of telling him it was time for sleep. Oh well, nothing better to do, he thought as he let his eyes slide closed.
He woke up later in a cold sweat, his sleep plagued by some nightmare he couldn't remember. It has slipped away like a ghost. He moved his arms and found, to his shock, that the cuff on his left arm was gone. Looking around in confusion, he noticed that the room was completely dark now, not a single light was on. Even the machines usually hooked up to him have been powered down, their small glows gone. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up, shaky on his feet and a grimace on his face, his hand automatically going up to his stab wound on instinct. Luckily, his left leg seemed to be faring well under his weight and, a few cautious steps later, he deemed it fine to walk on. Pushing the curtain away, he peeked around the fabric.
"Hello?" He called out into the darkness, his voice seemed oddly disturbing and out of place in the quiet, empty room. No reply came from the shadows and he reached up to harshly pinch his cheek to check if he was still sleeping. Of course he wasn't. All he got from the action was pain in his face. A few more hesitant steps and he was clear of his small area, finally in a new place he had never been in before. He padded hesitantly away from his comfort zone, his arms stretched out in front of him. He felt his hands slap against the cold wall and used that to slide his way around the room until he found the door. He turned the knob and found, to his shock once again, that it was open and unlocked. He was pretty sure they usually locked the door each night just incase he somehow miraculously escaped from his bed. Something was definitely not right here.
Looking over his shoulder where he knew his bed was, he pondered slightly what was happening. He wasn't dreaming so… why? A lump began to fill his guts as his instincts told him to get back into his bed and go back to sleep. On the other hand, however, his guts were telling him that he was hungry once more, letting out a growl to punctuate their point. Just one quick look around, maybe find the food, and he would come back to his room he promised himself, letting the door open, not a creak coming from its hinges. He tiptoed out, not really sure why he was trying to be so quiet, but it just seemed right to do so. He slid down the hallway, one hand on the wall so he could navigate through the pitch-black corridor. Where the cafeteria or whatever was, he had no clue, but he kept walking anyway, running his hands over the signs when he came to them, trying to make out the words cut into them.
Finally, he found what he was looking for and opened the door. This one actually let out a small creak as it swung open into the room. A few steps in and he almost tripped over a chair tucked under a table. He resorted to skimming around on the side of the room to get to the kitchen. The doors there had no knobs, he just had to push them open and they swung closed behind him as he walked further into the room. He opened a cupboard and reached in, his hand finding a bag that made a crackling noise. Pulling it out, he opened it to find that he was holding a large potato chip bag, much to his glee. He chowed down on the crunchy snacks until he had had his fill of them, almost half the bag. Setting it back, he brushed off the crumbs and started making his way back to his room.
It wasn't until he was back in the hallway did he remember that he had no clue which place was his room. He hadn't bothered to check the sign outside his door before he left. He pursed his lips, mentally cursing himself out as he made his way back the way he had come, nevertheless. He opened door after door peering into the darkness in hope that he felt some sort of familiarity in there. Peering into one of the rooms, he squinted trying to make out the shadows in there. It looked like a section of the room was curtained off, so he stepped into the room, making his way over to the area. He was right. There were curtains in the room, sectioning off part of it. Pulling them aside he immediately realized that this was not his room. He took a step back just as all the lights immediately snapped back on, blinding him momentarily. He blinked several times, taking a few steps back from the bed in front of him.
It looked nothing like a bed now that he could see it in the light, more like a place you would attach someone to for torture. The walls in the area were covered in all kinds of weapons and torture devices. It looked like something from a textbook about the middle ages. He turned around and, ignoring the protest of his wounds, ran out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. The lights in the hallway had been turned on as well and he noticed an exit sign on the wall, pointing to the left. He took off in that direction, loping down the hallway. He slammed himself against the door, throwing it open and finding himself stepping out into the cool night. He let the crisp air enter his lungs and he threw his head back, his eyes closed as he sunk into this new surroundings. It was peaceful out here, but not for long.
Harsh light snapped on, highlighting him with spotlights. He heard the click of guns and squinted to make out the shape of people moving around in front of him, guns drawn and level. They were prepared to kill him or gravely injure him if the need arose. Collapsing to his knees, he put his hands on top of his head, not even letting them have the chance to tell him to do that on their own. Someone made their way around him, forcing his arms down and behind his back, harshly putting cold, metal handcuffs around his wrists. He looked over his shoulder to see that it was one of the men that woman hung out with. He had a sort of smug look on his face as he fastened the cuffs so they fit tightly.
"This is for my shoulder, you son of a bitch," the man spat out, twisting the other's arms up, causing his to let out a cry of pain as he was lifted back to his feet and led back into the medical building. He was led back to the torture room, he noticed, his heart climbing in his chest as he struggled weakly against the man, all his strength leaving him. The door was thrown open, the curtain moved aside, and there was that place in all it's glory again. He shuddered, trying to pull back, struggling to get away from that horrific room, but he was shoved forward, stumbling onto the platform. The cuffs were removed, but not for long before he was positioned onto the thing, all his limbs strapped in and his head tied in place. And then they all backed off. He looked around in confusion, his eyes darting over the many weapons on the wall, sending a chill down his spine.
"You tried to escape," the woman voice floated over to him and his eyes swung over to her direction.
"Who are you people?" He choked out.
"Don't act like you don't know, BK-201," she growled, her eyes filled with anger and what looked like sadness, but it vanished before he could truly see it there.
"I don't! How many times do I have to tell you that? I don't know my name, I don't know you, I don't know any of the answers to those questions you keep asking me. No matter how many times you ask them, my answer will be the same: I don't fucking know!" He pulled against the binds, getting nowhere, before flopping back down, his strength leaving him.
"Get him to the examination room," another voice rang out as a man walked in, wearing a white lab coat, his curly hair a mess on his head, a lock of curls hanging down over his forehead, "We should begin immediately now that he is back to being healthy. I presume that she is ready and waiting in the lab to do her part of the job?"
Another doctor nodded her head, handing him a file filled with papers. He flicked it open with his thumb, fingering through the many documents before him before closing it once more with a snap.
"Oh, we are just going to have a load of fun with you, BK-201. We've been trying to get our hands on you for a while and here you are, practically waltzing towards us, wrapped up like a present. It's like you're begging for us to get out plans started. You really shouldn't have been so quick to protect the lives of these people," he waved his hands in the direction of the woman and her group, saying the word 'people' as though it was a distasteful word when referring to that group. He saw the woman give a frown, her hands clenched into tight fists.
"All right, take him," he laughed, clapping his hands gleefully, as if he was a small child finding a coin under a vending machine. A group grabbed the sides of the platform, wheeling him towards the door. He struggled pitifully against the binds, but his strength was long gone now. As he was pushed past the woman, she suddenly darted forward.
"Wait! Please let me have a few minutes with him before you do what ever it is you're doing," she frowned at her words, but her hands were grasping tightly onto his closest arm. He looked up at her, hope in his eyes, but she did not return the gaze.
The man sighed, rolling his eyes, "Very well, but only a few minutes."
The doctors trooped out of the room and, with a sideways glance to her men, they also left, the door shutting behind them. The quiet that followed was almost unbearable, but she finally broke it, her brow furrowed as she spoke.
"Why'd you try to run?" Her voice was soft, hurt almost.
"Because I walked into this room. Do I really need to give more of an explanation?" His eyes darted back to the torture devices hung up, "Why the hell do you have a room like this?"
"I don't deal with this part of the company, to be truthful, but I can think of a reason why," her gaze gave a once over of the room before finding his once more, "It's probably the same reason they're taking you to an examination room."
He swallowed heavily, closing his eyes momentarily before taking a shaky breath and looking back at her, "I'm going to die, aren't I?" He whispered, fear in his eyes.
She looked away, not able to look him in the eye, "I don't know. You're an interesting Contractor. They might now want you dead but I don't know what they'll do to you instead."
The weapons flashed through his mind, "Torture?"
She shook her head with a shrug of her shoulders, still not sure. Her grip tightened on his arm, as though she was trying to give him some comfort, but it wasn't helping. In fact, it seemed to be doing the opposite, since all it meant to him was that she was helpless. Moreover, where did that leave him? He was even more helpless than she was. He let his eyes slide closed as he tried to drown the emotions that welled up inside of him.
"I'm sorry," she said it so quietly he didn't hear it at first, but then she repeated it a little louder and he opened his eyes to look at her. This time he could see all the sadness, fear, and hurt in her eyes, clear to see, "I'll promise to get you out of here anyway I can, okay?"
"You trust me?" He managed to finally say and she gave him a weak nod in reply.
"I knew you as two different people. You both acted nothing alike, but now you've emerged out of it. You're like a mix of the two, but more innocent and helpless," he cringed at the word, but she didn't notice his discomfort, "Your eyes hold no lies when you speak. I know you Contractors are good liars but, for some reason, I trust you. Just as I trusted your civilian side. You lied to me a lot as him, but you never hurt me. You saved me quite a few times, really, as both personas. I probably wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you," she bowed her head, her eyes falling into shadow.
"That sounded like a love confession," he managed to get out after a few moments of silence, trying to break the awkwardness that had settled around them. She whipped her head up, her cheeks blushing furiously as she looked at him, stammering for words. He offered a weak smile and she managed to let a small laugh bubble up from her throat. She squeezed his arm once more just as the door opened once more.
"Time's up, Kirihara-san," the man sang as he entered the room once more. A look of distaste crossed her face as her name left his lips. He shut his eyes, wanting to see no more as they wheeling him out of the room, his brow furrowed in fear. They pushed him for a while through the hallways until their pace slowed, moving him into a room. He opened his eyes a slit and noticed they were in a surgical room of sorts. His breathing came quicker, he was on the verge of hyperventilation. They stopped him in the middle of the room and applied the brakes, assuring that he wouldn't go anywhere, not that he could.
"Now, shall we begin?" The man said, reentering his line of sight and his eyes snapped fully open at what he saw. The man had put a mask over his face, his hair pulled back into a hairnet, but that single strand still hanging out over his forehead. He was wheeling over a small, metal table covered in surgical instruments from bone cutters to scalpels. He pulled weakly at the binds, trying to muster up his strength but finding it fell short. A gas mask was placed over his mouth, but it only had oxygen pouring out of it, nothing more. There would be nothing given to him that would ease the pain of what would become. The man removed some scissors from the table and he flinched as he neared his side with the weapons. But he only moved to cut off his shirt, removing the fabric once he was done and leaving the skin out against the air.
A woman was standing to the side of the room, a blank expression on her face as everyone milled about their room. Their eyes met for a split second but then her gaze shifted back to looking at nothing. One of the nurses dismissed her, letting her know that they'd call her back if they needed her. She nodded curtly and left the room, everyone continuing with what they were doing as if she had never been there at all.
"What should we start with first? Ah… how about a dissection?" The man picked up a scalpel, a smile dancing along his lips as he pressed the cold blade against his sternum, blood balling up as it bit through the skin. His head snapped back, a scream erupting from his throat as the pain ripped through his body. The man took no notice of the tremendous pain the man under him was in and continued his work, cutting a straight line down his chest, blood running down onto the surface of platform, all the while humming a small tune in the back of his neck as he continued his work.
...;-; my baby... *sobbing*
I love Hei, but... I don't know. It's time he got his butt kicked? I still feel back about it, though.
Please review!