Chapter 2

Insanity is a matter of Perspective

He doesn't like the 'healers'.

They talk about him in whispers when they think he's not listening- he's always listening though so they might as well be screaming it into his face- They think he's mad and they tell 'Victor' so with a strange look in their eyes.

They want 'Victor' to put him into a nice white room with a nice white jacket until 'his mind mends itself' but there's nothing wrong with his mind so how can it heal? Red doesn't know and he really doesn't care, not when Victor has promised to 'take him home' today.

He wonders what 'home' is.

Will it be something warm? Something he can hold or eat? Something he can paint red like the walls? Was home another word for red? Could he put it in his pocket and carry it around everywhere?

There's only one real way to know, so the rouge haired child snatches up his red scarf and red 'gloves' before running towards Victor and the 'healers'. For some reason, one of the strange men in white try to stop him, but he's always been quick on his feet so Red doesn't have any issues slipping beneath the man's open arms- Maybe he wanted a hug?- and latching firmly onto Victor's leg.

"Wictow," he tugs slightly on the man's jacket with wide eyes and a smile that has the nurses flinching away from him for some reason. Then again, they always did that when he smiled so maybe they were 'allergic' to them like Four used to be to Monster's white hand covers, "Hume?"

A soft chuckle is his answer as the golden eyes man runs fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture, "In a moment Red, I still need to finish talking with these ladies."

Why? All they did was say the same things over and over- maybe they were insane?- while talking behind people's backs.

Still, Victor had asked for a moment and Red had plenty of those to spare so he gives the man doesn't nod before focusing his attention on the pretty red in his hands. He wonders how they get the soft fabric to hold the color as his old clothes never would- it always faded away into a shade rather similar to that of copper and mud mixed together.

Maybe he could ask Victor to show him how and then he could paint all the man's too white clothes red for him so he didn't have to endure them anymore.

"Victor, you can't seriously be planning to take him with you!" The 'Healer's' loud voice draws Red from his thoughts causing the child to glance upwards before a slight fascination enters his eyes- He didn't know faces could access the pretty red without piercing the skin beforehand- as the dark haired woman seemed to sputter, "He needs help, Victor! He needs a hospital and probably, depending on the damage, an asylum."

Help? Was Victor taking someone else with them when they left? The rouge haired child frowned softly as he glanced around in search for whoever it was that needed help, but besides the strange man in white Red couldn't see anyone else...

Maybe the woman needed an eye healer? Though that left Red wondering if the woman should be allowed to 'heal' other when she herself needed healing. Maybe if he got her one of those 'Magical Band-Aids' Victor had given him- though he didn't know why he needed so many or where the silver-haired man had found the long tan ones that covered his hands, arms, chest, neck, and legs. He didn't even know these 'Magical Band-Aids' could be so huge - she would get better?

...Where had Victor gotten the 'Magical Band-Aids' from again?

Red wracked his mind, trying to remember where they had come from but now that he thought about it Victor had him close his eyes as he used some sort of magic to bring them into existence. Nodding to himself, Red allowed his eyes to slip close and focused his thought upon the magical Band-Aids before opening them again, but there were magical Band-Aids in his hands and no matter how many time he tried he just couldn't make them appear...

So he did the next best thing. Carefully one of his smaller magical bandages from his cheek, Red reached over and pressed it onto the healer's ugly white scrubs.

Silence instantly filled the room with two sets of eyes stared down at the rather proud feeling rouge. After all, not only was the magical Band-Aid going to heal the woman but it made it so her clothes were no longer all white. Sure, it wasn't the pretty red he would have chosen to paint her with but anything was better than ugly white.

"Red," Golden eyes blinked upwards at the older man, "What are you doing?"

Wasn't it obvious? Red allowed his brows to furrow slightly as he stared at Victor- his eyes scanning the man closely in case the other also needed magical bandages- before pointing towards the Healer, "Heaw."

Truthfully, Red really doesn't understand why Victor starts chuckling but it's of no matter to him as he seems to be done talking to the 'Healer' that the magical Band-Aid was working on healing. Therefore there was only one thing left, "Hume?"

Home is strange but in a good way.

Its... Comfortable- Red supposes is the word he's looking for- in a way the lab never was for Zero. It doesn't smell like chemical or the sterile sanitizer Monster wiped everything down with. Best of all though, it doesn't smell like Death; instead, the whole place smelled of what he believed was called 'coffee' and something that made his mouth water.

Next was the fact there was barely any white anywhere, instead, every room seemed to have a different color and a different design decorating the walls.

There were so many colors everywhere he looked, he had even discovered three distinct hues of red in the design of what Victor had dubbed a 'dining room' which was apparently used for eating- a whole room!- with family or guest. Red couldn't wait to try it out for himself, but first, he was going to have to learn something called 'table manners' as according to Victor one wasn't supposed to eat with their hands, bite or growl at other people who accidentally ventured too close to your food.

To be honest, Red doesn't understand why he can't.

After all, how else was he supposed to stop others from stealing his food? Or what if they changed their mind and decided he didn't need any food and took it back? Monster had done that lots of times as food granted a person energy which Monster deemed he didn't need and therefore would either take it back to eat himself or throw it into a mess of chemicals. Then there was 'Friend', he brought food every now and then- usually when Monster forgot to feed Zero for more than a week- but Friend always had 'conditions' he expected to be followed.

Finally, there was Red's favorite part of the 'Home'; a bedroom but not just any bedroom; His bedroom.

The small child was practically bouncing off the walls as he rushed from the small bed- A bed, an actual bed with an actual mattress, covers and a pillow instead of a stiff white floor that left his back constantly aching- towards the 'dresser' then towards the thing called a 'bookshelf'. It even had books on it, small thin ones which left him befuddled on what the strange symbols were but they were still books and books meant knowledge that he currently didn't have but could possibly learn.

"Wed!" the small child all but giggled in delight as he tackled the crimson quilt he had discovered within the closet...

That was if he could stay focused long enough to do so.

"Red," he glances up upon hearing the voice beckoning him from outside the room, "Its time for dinner."

Dinner? What's a 'dinner'?

Curious, the small child forces himself to his feet while grabbing an armful of the pretty red cover and dragging it with him out of his 'room'. It's not easy as he keeps tripping over his own feet as they somehow manage to tangle themselves within the cloth but he doesn't want to let it go least someone tries to steal the pretty red- what if someone else noticed how pretty the red was and wanted to take it for themselves? What if they stole all the red in the whole world?- from him when his back is turned. That wouldn't due, after all, if they stole the pretty red the white might come back and he doesn't want the white to come back.

Dinner, it turns out, is another word for food.

Wide golden eyes stared at the table with more food on it then he had seen for... Well, as long as he could remember, which wasn't that long really as he couldn't remember anything before the Lab- was there anything before the Lab and Subject Zero?- but he doesn't want to think about that right now. Instead, he would rather think about the assorted things placed across the 'table' like the bowl of white stuff that looked kind of like lumpy- yet somehow smooth- snow or the brown thing Victor had said was 'Stew' with assorted colors floating within it.

He doesn't know what stew supposed to be but it smells good and Victor doesn't hesitate to eat it so it must be safe to do the same...Right?

After a moment of thought, Red decides to take his chances and carefully takes a small bite. If its poisoned he could easily spit it out and most poisons didn't really work on him anyways unless in large doses.

It burns- leaving a part of Red wondering whether the stew was trying to digest him- but the slight pain vanishes the moment he registers the burst of flavor. To be honest, he's not sure how to describe the flavors as he's never tasted anything with such a texture before-usually it was just flavorless mush witch half the time left Zero wondering if Monster had found a way to solidify air- and therefore had nothing to compare it to.

Without a second thought, the child attempted to rapidly devour the 'stew' before it could devour him. Though it tried its best- his throat hurt but the pain was mild as he must have swallowed the 'stew' before it could eat through the muscles- the child could proudly claim he had won the final battle between the two of them.

He doesn't like strangers.

It was something Victor knew well which was why the rouge haired child never had any Watchers- strange men and women in suits that stalked the grove outside their home- inside the house when the silver-haired man was at 'work'. So the moment the paint-spattered child hears soft footsteps he knows something is amiss.

No one comes inside when Victor was gone, not since what happened the first- and last- time one of the watchers deemed their jobs more efficient if they were within a shared vacancy with him only to be hauled out on a stretcher.

Tilting his head slightly, the rouge haired child stared at his door as he ponders over to what to do. One one hand Victor might be home early which meant he could show off his 'painting' but on the other hand, the painting wasn't finished and what if the person wasn't Victor? But then again, no one comes into their home unless the silver-haired man was home so maybe it was Victor and he should finish his painting before the man came to see him?

Nodding slightly to himself, the rouge turned his attention back to his work while considering what color would best complicate assorted shades of red, blue and green.

Maybe a silver color like Victor's hair? The man seemed to have a strange fondness for the color as he wore it every day. So maybe the man would like his painting more if he hides all the white beneath the silver? The soft creaking of his bedroom door being pushed open instantly draws the rouge from his thoughts as golden eyes dart into towards the source of the noise:

That was not Victor.

The man's whole appearance was wrong- he was a couple of inches too short, his hair was the color of the night sky and his eyes that of the earth's soil- and his clothes were the wrong color. The man looked like something Red had seen in a book Victor was using to teach him to read, the characters who went around with towels on their arms and stalked other people: A Butler- He thinks is the word- but why was there a butler in their house? Victor would have warned him if he hired one so that could be it...

Maybe the man was lost? But then why did none of the watchers inform the man of such?

And then there was that, golden eyes drifted down towards the man's polished black shoes, "You'we getting wed on the floow."

The man's earthy eyes blinked before glancing down at his own shoes as though he was seeing them for the first time- how does a man forget putting on shoes?- as he slowly lifted one foot to see the pretty red imprints left behind, "So I am."

Red couldn't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance as right after the man acknowledges this, he placed his foot back on the ground adding another pretty red stain to the floor.

Don't get him wrong, he liked the pretty hues of red and if he would the child would have painted everything he could reach the beautiful color but Victor liked the wooden floors the way they were and asked him to try to keep the pretty red off the ground and now this strange man was painting the ground with every step he took.

How was that fair?

Red didn't mean to do it- Honest!- it was just when the strange butler man had suddenly tried to lift him up the child had caught a scent of something sickly sweet- something oh so familiar- from the man's breast pocket. He knew that smell, Monster used it from time to time when some Subjects were overly aggressive during procedures and he didn't want his work too damaged. Something just snapped- Honestly, he doesn't even remember doing only the faint echoes of muffled screams that would soon die away, sometimes forever, echoing within his head- as one moment Red found himself being held and the next he was sitting on the floor staring at the strange butler man with his paintbrush going through one of those earthly eyes.

The strange man wasn't moving and kept ignoring him when Red tried to wake him but since he was such pretty shade of red, the child decided to forgive the strange butler man for that and instead focused his attention back onto his painting which now had a spatter of the pretty red further enchanting his work.

Victor wasn't very happy to find the strange butler man sleeping on his floor when he finally got home. Red doesn't understand they have to move after that but it matters little to him as this new home feels rather similar to the last, the only difference is this one is just a bit smaller.

Why was it when people were worried about you they sent you to a 'Therapist'? Shouldn't they try to keep you further away from the person whose occupation all but spelled out: The-rapist? Red frowned softly as he pondered over his question while closing eying the smiling woman Victor had granted access to their home.

"Red, do you know why I'm here?"

She probably thought he would be an easy prey to fester her claws into, but he was onto her tricks. First, she would act nice and soft-spoken and then when he left down his guard; she would pounce and tear him to pieces. Seven used to do the same thing in the arena though Zero had only barely missed falling for it the first time he ever witnessed it.

Red doesn't bother with a verbal answer, instead, he tilts his head slightly while granting the woman his entire focus. He had to be vigilant as there was likely to be a massive amount of deceit and double meaning words hidden within her precisely designed performance.

"Red, do you remember the man who entered your home?"

Of course, he does, it was hard to forget the strangely lost butler who had slept on his floor and caused Victor to panic so.

"Do you understand what happened to him?"

Blinking, Red tilts his head a bit as he tried to decipher the woman's words: Happen? Nothing happened to the man. He was still sleeping the last time the rouge haired child has seen him.

The woman keeps talking but Red's no longer paying her any more attention than necessary.

After all, She's of little importance to him now that Victor has returned.

For with Victor, came freedom.

If he's honest, Red doesn't like sleeping as every time he sleeps he finds himself Subject Zero with Monster and Friend lurking around every corner.

He doesn't want to sleep as he doesn't want to remember but if he doesn't sleep, Victor would grant him this look- golden eyes full of worry and disappointment as the other attempt to soothe the strange grip that always seemed determined to crush his heart- that the child hated. He didn't need- nor want- such a look directed towards him, especially by Victor so on those nights were the 'visions' are too much; Red does his utmost best to avoid the silver-haired man.

Though it was easier said than done as no matter where he hides- the attic, the basement, underneath desks and beds, in the closet, on the roof- the elder man always seemed to know where he was.

"There you are." Like now...

Slowly, golden eyes pried themselves from the night sky and onto the silver-haired man who was pulling himself completely out of a window to join the rouge haired child on the roof.

"You really should tell someone when you decide to come up here," Victor speaks softly, his hand ruffling crimson locks causing the rouge to stare up at him with a hint of curiosity. He wondered if this was another 'parental right'- as the silver-haired man tended to dub most things- or if the other was just trying to cause enough friction to set his hair ablaze.

Personally, he hopes its the former as the gesture did feel kind of nice though the contact itself seems a bit too brief as the elder pulled away from his hand after a moment longer. Red pretends not to hear the soft chuckle just as he pretends he's not pouting.

He's fascinated.

Golden eyes stared at the black scribbles staining the pale sheets as Victor slowly moved a finger underneath them as he spoke, "A man deliberately stepped into her path. Her heart backed up into her throat. Then he dropped."

If Red was honest, He found it fascinating how Victor turned the scribbles into words which painted a picture within his mind as though the rouge haired child was peering into another world altogether. Something must show in his expression for Victor pauses midword- much to the rouge's dismay- only to offer him a gentle smile, "If you want, I can teach you how to read."

For a moment wide golden eyes glance from the book and towards the man who had already granted him so much and was still offering him more before-

Crash!

Victor couldn't help but choke as he found himself buried beneath a rather small child who hugs might as well be classified as Lethal.

Especially when those deceptively frail looking arms- what the hell had that bastard Ambrose place inside the child's bones? Some type of Steel or Titanium? Because Victor would be damned if this type of strength was natural- managed to wrap themselves around one's neck and refused to let go.

Accidently murdered by an overexcited child who didn't know their own strength...

He was never going to live this down, Victor decided as his vision blurred with black dots and his lips began to turn blue. Thankfully, someone up there was on his side as the child sudden pulled away before the rouge brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of a rather blue-faced man.

Strange...Red wasn't aware people could change colors.

Though why anyone- let alone Victor- would want to turn their face blue and their neck purple was beyond him. After another moment of consideration, the rouge haired child shrugs- After all, if being blue and purple made Victor happy who was he to deny the man that?- the issue from his mind.

Victor only attempts to make him attend a 'normal' school once.

Why, red doesn't understand, but its obvious from the start the Teachers do not like him- that's okay he doesn't like them either- as they believe he's 'mentally defective' and tell him so rather bluntly to his face as 'he can't understand us anyway'.

The other students like him even less. Their words and actions are mental to cut- to rip him to pieces and destroy everything that made him, Him- but the rouge haired child finds them easy to ignore- Compared to Monster and Friend they were but annoying gnats buzzing around his head- though this makes some of them angry.

He doesn't care. Why should he when the only interest he held for any of them was the shade of red beneath their skin?

He wants to know if it is a light red or a dark red. Will it be the shade of rubies or roses? Will they be marveled at the beauty beneath their skins or will they scream like Thirteen used to do when Monster caused her red to surface?

He wants to- needs to- know, but he promised Victor so Red tries his best to ignore the urge. And for a while- two hours and fifteen minutes to be exact- he succeeds until break comes and one of the boys- a brunette whose name he couldn't recall if he tried... Maybe something to do with a jellyfish?- hits him in the back of the head with a thick polished stick- for some type of kendo class- he usually carried around.

For a moment, the rouge haired child hears nothing as his golden eyes stare intensely at the smear of crimson against the soft tan of the wood before it clicks:

The red is His. The brunette had stolen his red. The brunette had attacked him and stolen his red. Something bitter twists within the child's chest cavity as golden eyes sharpen.

It's the screaming that finally draws the adults' attention.

He doesn't understand why the adults scream nor why the strange four wheel death trap of metal and glass is called to cart the other children away to someplace called a 'hospital', but in the end, it doesn't matter. All that matters it Victor's disappointed gaze as the elder man's white pocket towel turns crimson from a vain attempt at removing the stunning red liquid from his face.

"Maybe it was still too soon," Victor mumbles softly staring down at the child's blood smeared face. A headkerchief just wouldn't be enough to clean up this mess -and he wasn't just speaking of the blood- through that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

He's forbidden from returning, but Red doesn't mind- There was nothing there for him anyways- so he clings to a large hand which guides him home.