Authors notes: Thank you all for such kind reviews. I never expected Rose's chapter to be met with such approval. I was worried that people may have seen ch 5 as a drag or too ooc, so the fact that people liked it gives me the warm and fuzzies. I really wanted to do Rose justice with her chapter, make her stand out as a character. In MGS 2 she had said that she wanted to be considered her own person and not just an accessory to Raiden, so I hope can keep doing right by her character.
Brief mention of uncomfortable subjects in this chapter but its more of a blink and miss it type of deal. I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter.
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John yanked the pillow off of his head and rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand. 1:13 AM the pale green numbers displayed. He threw off the soft covers with a growl of frustration and sat up in the oversized bed. Sleep was not coming for him easily this night, just like the past five nights he had been a 'guest' here at the Maverick headquarters.
The teenager tugged at the slightly too large sweat pants and tee-shirt that had bunched up in his restlessness. The horse logo with the lettering MSC was barely recognizable in the dark room, lit only by the city light filtering in through the windows. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the already chaotic mess from where he had been tossing and turning. Drawing his knees up to his chest, John rested his chin atop them with a deep sigh. The whirlwind of thoughts raged on, seemingly encouraged by his forfeiting of sleep.
Five days and nights he had been here and John was still none the wiser as to what was truly going on. Everybody had been nice enough to him, he supposed, even if it were obvious that they were blatantly keeping things from him. He had been given one of the VIP rooms near the upper floors all to himself. Boris told him these rooms were for when they had to protect someone by keeping them close by but also wanted to keep them comfortable at the same time.
It was nice enough John supposed. It reminded him more of a hotel than an apartment in its lack of any personality. There had been several gaming systems with some popular titles placed in the sitting room. John suspected that those had been specifically bought for his benefit as he couldn't really picture any VIP's wanting to play video games. He hadn't touched any of them however. While at home he would have drooled over the selection, now he didn't have the heart to play games when his life had been turned upside down.
John got visitors constantly to watch over him and keep his mood from spiraling too badly. A kindly older woman with greying hair and weathered skin who didn't speak a word of English would bring him breakfast and lunch everyday. John let her fuss over him, having learned that she would not be deterred by his protests.
The woman would smooth his hair down, look at how thick his arms were and tisk to herself, and earnestly tell him something before crossing herself and giving him a parting hug and a peck on the forehead before leaving for the day. At first he was mildly puzzled but then honestly found that he didn't mind. John didn't have any grandparents but he figured that they would be something like this.
The visitors that he mostly received were Kevin and Courtney, the people that had first talked with him when that asshole with the ponytail had dropped him off. They would be in and out of his rooms all day and would try to keep him company and make light talk while they worked. The two always had a tablet or computer on hand and would type away even as they tried to talk with John about various safe, yet pointless topics that he didn't care about.
Courtney tended to talk a lot about food. A lot. She would go on about various parts of the world and the local dishes. John was too polite to tell her that he simply wasn't that interested in foreign cuisine but at least her company was better than being alone with his thoughts. John had the suspicion that she was uncomfortable around him but he wasn't rude enough point it out. Instead he let her fill the silence with chatter and would try whatever weird foods she brought for him to try for dinner. The food was alright enough but John was always secretly more grateful for the bags of fast food Kevin brought with him.
Kevin was more alright with the uncomfortable silence than Courtney was. He would work away at his computer while they ate in the little dining area of the suite but whenever John would get too despondent or homesick, Kevin would try to distract him with tales of the various places he had been all over the world. John's curiosity was reluctantly drawn into these conversations as the pictures Kevin painted of these locations (and ofttimes actual pictures pulled up on the mans phone) were so different than what John had known from the States and back home in New Zealand. Kevin had once made the mistake of trying to regale him with stories about his father, but quickly learned that was a sore subject that John was not willing to delve into. Conversation strictly avoided family talk after that.
Everyday John would ask if anything had been found out, if they had heard from his mother or had found his father. Everyday he would get the same encouraging but vague answer that they were working on it the best they could and promised to keep him in the loop. Kevin hid the lies better but Courtney always got this slightly pained look whenever she told him there had been no update on his father. John knew that they were hiding something and he suspected that they knew he knew.
John wanted to talk to the Boris again. Wanted to ask, to demand, more information about the bomb dropped that had shattered three years worth of painfully foraged convictions. His father had been abducted. By who? How? Was Dad out there somewhere wanting to come home as badly as Mom had wanted him to come back? And then there had been John, letting the hurt and resentment fester with each passing day, with each passing year. John had even almost grown to hate him. The teenager uncurled himself and slipped out of the bed. He began to pace, his feet making no sound as he made his rounds back and forth over the cushy carpet.
Guilt.
It was guilt that twisted and churned through his insides, only growing each day that he was stuck in this place. The idea that he had been so wrong about his father gnawed at him as much as the worry for his mother did. The guilt eating him alive was only being fed by an unwanted horrible emotion that John could not shake no matter what he did. John felt...glad.
Underneath the shock was a thankful, warm feeling that John got whenever he recalled the Russian guy's words about his father. Dad never abandoned them. John hadn't been left behind and forgotten. He was still wanted and loved and it was only because body else that their family was broken. Whenever these feelings of gladness would arise and in its wake the guilt would soon follow. The thought that his father was captured and probably suffering for all these years struck him through the heart.
And John feeling glad about it? He felt like the worst piece of shit in the world. The guilt inside him ate all of this up greedily.
John ran his hands down his face, fighting the urge to cry. He softly padded over to the door that led into the hallway and sat down against it. He couldn't stand being in here alone anymore with his thoughts but yet here he had to stay. He was not allowed to leave his rooms and there was a guard just on the other side of the door he currently leaned against.
Even if there was no guard present John didn't know what he could do. He couldn't force everyone to tell him the truth and stop lying. And what if John did know the truth? It wasn't as if he could find his parents on his own. That and there was also the not-so-small fact that Maverick thought that someone was after him too. The thought that someone may be after him that was able to stop his superhero of a dad was enough to spawn nightmares that had him jolting awake in a cold sweat.
John leaned forward drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. No matter how he tried to reign in his thoughts it wasn't enough to keep the tears from welling up and slowly trickling down his face. He wanted out of here. He wanted someone else to be here. He wanted his parents. Before John could get too overwhelmed with the churning emotions, a sound outside of his door drew his attention.
There were footsteps approaching in the hall, surefooted and confident. John felt a slight chill at the thought that it was that guy with the ponytail coming back for him. He hadn't seen the man again and John believed him now that he was actually working for Maverick. Still, the terror that he had felt when he thought he was being kidnapped to be trafficked off somewhere made him shiver at random times. The memories of being taken from his home were forgotten as the voice that John had come to recognize as his night guard spoke up.
"Hey man. What are you doing back at headquarters. I thought you weren't due to rotate back for another month." The man was trying to be quiet. If John were actually in bed he doubted that he would have heard anything at all. John pressed an ear against the door to eavesdrop away.
"Job's done already. Just got out of debriefing." A deep gruffer voice spoke up. The new man was not as successful at softening his tones. He also sounded exhausted in the way adults did when they ran on too little sleep for too long.
"Already done? You're shitting me." His guard let out a small chuckle of disbelief as if he were waiting for the real story to come out now.
"Yeah. Our mystery bomber ended up blowing his own ass up making his next batch. Threat neutralized. I love it when these morons do our work for us." The new guy seemed rather pleased through his exhaustion.
The guard barked out a laugh but quickly smothered it down. "Taken out by his own bombs. Well how about that. Glad to have you back man."
"Gotta say, I'm glad to be back. Nothing like coming back stateside after an easy job. Although I'll be much happier when I get out of here and get back over at my place. Been missing my girl."
"Then what the hell are you doing up here man?" Shuffling around, the faint rustle of clothing. John felt himself growing bored with the conversation already. He wanted to go back to brooding on his thoughts and the confusion about how he felt. Not listen to two old guys talk about work. Even if their work did happen to have people blowing themselves up.
"See, I heard some interesting rumors when I first got back." The tiredness shed from the gruff man's voice a little bit to be replaced with an almost sly tone. The shadows that John could see from underneath the door shifted and grew. He guessed that the new guy was leaning against the door frame to get closer for the gossip time. "Figured that you would know. And seeing as how you're stuck up here in the VIP wing pulling night shift to babysit it seems like the rumors were more than just talk. So is it true?"
"...Yeah man its true. Round the clock guard until the big man loosens up security. I swear he looks just like him before Area 51. Seems like a good kid too. Real quiet."
Now John was interested. They were talking about him unless there were any other kids here being guarded. And Area 51? What the hell? John shifted as quietly as he could to get his ear closer to the space underneath the door for a better listen.
"So how is Raiden holding up? Can't be as bad as last time."
"Don't know. The Dok won't let anybody down into the labs. Old guy is pissed. Heard that it was more than just putting him back together, they really fucked with his head or something."
"Shit. Hes always been like that you know. Getting so far ahead of everyone that when his ass actually does need bailed out it takes us forever just to catch up." New guy brutally went from concerned to annoyed. John just went numb. Frozen with the realization, the certainty, that they were talking about his father.
It had been so long since he had thought about it, he had nearly forgotten about Dad's weird code name. John had only learned of it by accident. Years ago the both of them had been driving to John's school for some parent teacher event and his father had gotten a phone call right as they had pulled in. Sensing there was going to be a slight wait, John had pulled out his own phone, eager to get in a level or two in before he had to put up with all the other kids. It was always somehow the best thing ever and yet the worst thing ever the few times Dad had gone to his school.
It was the best because then he got to show off his awesome ninja superhero of a Dad off to all the other kids and see them get so jealous, especially that dick Mark who had hated John on first sight. All awesome things came with a price however and that's where it was the worst. His Dad wasn't allowed on school grounds without a police escort and that usually had all the teachers nervous which eventually spread to his classmates. The next few days was always a mix of other kids pestering him for details or taunting him about his father being a criminal. Jealous bastards, the lot of them.
That particular day his mother was supposed to meet with them but got called in for some work emergency or another so Dad it was. John had been in the middle of a level when he overheard his father irritably insist that he not be called by his real name but by Raiden instead. It was weird and when John had asked about immediately after his father had ended the call.
All he had gotten was father's sorta-frown and 'It' helps keep work and home separate'. John didn't press, seeing as how one of Dad's moods were imminent. There had also been the escort cops approaching the car. By the time the event was over John had forgotten all about the code name.
Until now that is.
"Who's behind it?" Gruff man asked, voice calm but with a dangerous edge. John shook away the memories and strained harder to hear anything he could.
"Don't know. If the big man knows, he's certainly not telling me. I'm just here to watch over the kid. And to make sure he doesn't get out. Apparently he's a bit of a Houdini. Gave Rodriguez a run for his money."
"No shit." Quiet laughter sounded out. "I would have paid to have seen that. So how's the kid taking it? I didn't have the closest relationship with my old man but it would fuck me up knowing something like that happened."
"Orders are to keep it hush. Straight from the top."
"Christ man..." The two fell silent for several long moments while John desperately willed them to speak more. 'What happened!?', John wanted to open the door and shout at the men, but they stayed maddeningly silent.
"Hey, nothing's going to go on tonight. Head on home, ok? I'll see if I can dig up any more info for when you report back in. You look like you're about to drop." The guard said eventually. John nearly cried out in frustration.
"You're right. You're right. Just wanted to see if it were true about Raiden and his kid. It's no wonder we hadn't heard from him in ages. You had better come through with them details man. Especially the who. Raiden might have moved on but we still take care of our own." New guy moved away from the door and began to leave.
"Will do man. Catch some shuteye. Hey! Give Gina a kiss for me, won't ya. Tell her to call me when you ship back out." The guard playfully shot to his departing coworker.
"Man, you can kiss my ass."
The guard outside of his door chuckled and the footsteps headed down the hall grew distant until they faded altogether. The silence reigned supreme once more. But sitting behind the door alone in the dark, John no longer felt the oppressive loneliness.
John felt anger. It built up slowly like an ember that had been touched by fresh air. He scrubbed the remnants of tears from his face viciously.
'So it was true, they were lying to me. That Russian guy, Kevin, Courtney...those bastards! Dad is here, here, and they weren't going to tell me?' Worry sliced through the building anger. Those guys out there said that he was messed up...then John needed to be there for him! It didn't matter what happened, John needed to see him, to be with him.
John took a calming breath and relaxed his hands. The fabric of his sweat pants smoothed back out and John was certain that he had left nail marks embedded in the skin of his knees. The thought crossed his mind to bang on the door and simply demand that he be taken to his father, but that was dismissed as quickly as it came. 'Orders straight from the top', his guard had said. There was no way he would get anywhere with this guy.
John more deliberately considered confronting Kevin or Courtney with the knowledge that he knew. Would there be a point in hiding it from him when he already knew that Dad was here and down in the labs? John thought of their soft and reassuring smiles as they told him that they didn't know anything yet but would tell him when they knew. Liars.
John slowly crawled away from the door and stood, moving as quietly as he could. He didn't even make a whisper of a sound, just as he had been taught. John stalked back and forth along his fancy cell and weighed his options. They wouldn't tell him. They didn't before, they wouldn't now. They probably thought they were doing him a favor, keeping him from being upset at what he might see. And to be honest...John was scared at what he would see.
The way those guys talked made his imagination run wild with possibilities and none of them were encouraging. But he was scared, not deterred. John was adamant that he would see and be with Dad no matter what. But how though? How could he when no one would even tell him the truth and John couldn't leave this room.
'...or can I?' John thought as his eyes fell across the pile of ketchup packets that had accumulated over several days worth of heart clogging fast food.
-0-0-0-
Trent, while completely understanding of Boris' decision to put him on guard duty, could not help but feel slightly resentful. He was a senior member having seen the birth of Maverick. Hell, he had helped build her from the ground up whenever Popov had approached him and the others with his mad idea after the Paradise Lost Army had been dissolved.
Granted there were not many of the old crew left nowadays. All the others had the good sense to retire already. Sense that he apparently lacked as he was on the fast track to that big five zero, but still Trent felt he was a little more important than guard duty.
He knew that it was just his pride talking, something that had gotten him into plenty of trouble in the past. 'We take care of our own', the words replayed themselves unbidden. Raiden might have moved on but he was still considered part of the old crew. Same with any of them really, no matter where they went in life.
Whenever one of the old group fell onto hard times, from health troubles to financial, the rest would rally around and set them back on their feet. With no information as to a culprit to strike at, all he and the others could do was stand guard. The more Trent dwelled upon it, the more it made sense that a member of Maverick who followed the old code would be assigned to watch over the kid rather than some newbie.
Didn't mean he had to enjoy it though.
If Trent were being brutally honest with himself, his bristling had more to do with the fact that he was becoming too 'obsolete' to do much of anything other than guard duty. He didn't have the smarts to be near the top calling the shots, and he just could not bring himself to participate in all that cyborg shit that was practically becoming a requirement to do this kind of work. He was in his mid forties but around all these walking 'one man army' guys he felt like a rusted relic from a bygone age.
He had nearly done it. Had gotten the operations done. Trent had no family other than what he had here. No obligations that would be hurt by him undergoing the process. No reason not to and so much more to gain. He just couldn't fill out the forms though. They sat untouched in a desk back at his shitty apartment. He couldn't get the break room chatter of those that had the operations out of his mind either. All the talk about medications, procedures, and of phantom pains. Invaluable on the battlefield but a tremendous handicap in normal everyday life. But most of all what kept Trent signing those papers was that he couldn't get the dead eyes of all the people they had plucked from the Patriot faculties out of his nightmares.
Men hacked to pieces, kept alive only by a tangles of cords and tubes pitifully reaching out, begging to be rescued. Those were the ones that could still reach and plead. The rest lifelessly watched from their cells as the raid force moved through the facility. Haunted eyes focused not on their faces, but on the firearms in a way that made it all to clear what they wished for. So many that they had rescued died regardless of the care that was found for them. Whatever went on in there broke them inside and death was the preferable alternative to being forced to live like that.
Every time Trent was tempted to reach for the papers those memories would spring forth. He would rather accept his fate as a relic of another time than risk being reduced to one of those broken marionettes with a human soul.
A loud thud and the sound of shattering glass badly startled Trent out of his revere. A split second later was the cold wash of realization that the sound had come from the room that the kid was in. The man immediately turned and dialed in the code into the keypad. With any luck it was just a nightmare. The kid had plenty to lose sleep over after all. Or a tantrum.
Trent hoped for anything other than the myriad of other options that might have made it past their security. The door slid open and darkness greeted the man. A lifetime of getting out of (and into) sticky situations had him on high alert instantly. Flashlight switched on, he pulled out his sidearm ready for the worst.
Stepping into the room he scanned about for what could have caused the disturbance. When no danger immediately presented itself Trent briefly considered on turning on the lights and calling out to the boy. It was then his eyes fell upon the source of the sound over in the living room area.
Broken shards of a mug lay scattered everywhere. Even in the low light he could see the red coating the white of the ceramic. And there on the floor, mostly obscured from view by the couch, was a leg and a sock covered foot laying there. The guards flashlight revealed glinting red wetness covering nearly the entirety of the leg of the jeans and soaking macabrely into the white sock.
Trent was calling Boris over codec even as he charged over to assess if the kid was even still breathing. He pulled up short as he rounded the couch, unprepared for the sight that lay before him. It was simply a pair of pants with what looked to be a rolled up towel shoved into one leg and a sock placed on the end bent to look like a foot. The distinct lack of the coppery scent of blood was instead occupied by the tang of ketchup.
Trent immediately knew that he had been had.
"That little devil…"
"What is the matter? Report." The heavily accented words of his boss rang out. The guard realized that Boris had answered his call but he had been too caught up with the fact that he had fallen for the trap hook, line, and sinker.
Trent whirled around just in time to see the door of the suit shut and the lock activate with a fateful click.
'Ah shit.'
"Report." Boris repeated more insistently.
"Boss, we have a bit of a problem..."
-0-0-0-
John took off running down the hall, bare feet scrambling wildly for traction on the smooth floor. He had very little idea of where he was going but he was not about to slow down and lose what opportunity that he had gained.
'Down in the labs, that guy had said. Down. Basement? Gotta find an elevator. Should be a way to the labs from there. Unless I need some kind of key. I hope not.' His racing thoughts were only fueled by the adrenaline running through his system at the fact that his half baked plan was actually working.
John took a corner a little too quickly and nearly had his feet shoot out from underneath him. The doors that lined the halls were numbered but told him very little. This was the VIP wing so this must be where other people were politely held against their will. The teenager ignored the other rooms and looked for the elevators or even the stairs. He felt a prickle of anxiety as security cameras began to tilt towards him as he ran past. Stopping to think for the first time since he had concocted his condiment escape plan, John wondered if doing this was the smartest thing to do.
"A bit too late now." John accepted his own idiocy. Either this worked and he found Dad, or he got caught and was brought back to his room. These guys said they were here to protect him, what were they going to do? Shoot him? Whatever way this fell, they would know he was serious about Dad and they might even think twice about lying to him. Bolstered by the teenage belief that they would somehow work out in his favor, John ran along as quickly as he could through the hallways.
Something jumped out to him from the corner of his eye and he skidded to a stop so abruptly that he lost his footing and hit the ground with a painful thump. The soreness of his elbow and backside was the furthest thing from John's mind as the building directory with the Maverick logo was displayed proudly on that section of wall. He scrambled to his feet and quickly scanned the text for his destination.
'Floor 29: VIP Wing...Hell no to climbing down then I guess. Human resources...Financial department...no. VR Training...Where the hell was it?' John thought nearly frantically. There was one of those security cameras down the hall pointed right at him. The red light blinked accusingly. John fought off a sudden sense of shame about his actions. 'Reception...There! B4: Labs." John gave the security camera one last nervous glance and was off again.
As he made his way down the halls unhindered, John became distinctly aware of the fact that there had been no one after him just yet. No alarms were sounding. No flashing lights other than on the cameras that silently observed him as he moved past. The complete non-reaction was beginning to spook him. Suspiciously he began to slow his pace into a light footed jog as he began to eye the doors he passed by. Thankfully he spotted an elevator up ahead before he could psyche himself out too much.
John pressed the down button, halfway expecting it not to work. He jumped slightly as the shining metal door to his left immediately slid open. A slow cautious peek inside reveled it to be unoccupied. With a glance each way down the hall, John slipped on inside and pressed the close door button.
"Bugger..." He grumbled looking over the floor selection buttons. There were no options for the basement. The lowest the elevator went was to the ground floor. Before John could decide on his best course of action, the elevator jolted into motion. The teen stumbled back in alarm. The display began to read: 29-30-31…
John was halfway torn between despairing that he had been caught so soon and being pleased with himself that he managed to get as far as he did. As the display read 40 and the elevator jolted to a stop, John began looking around the small space for anything he could do, anything he could hide with. He knew it was obviously useless but with being so helplessly cornered his instincts were prickling at him to do something. John retreated as far back into a corner as he could as the doors slid open.
The Russian man was standing right outside of the elevator doors, hands folded almost serenely behind his back. John stayed securely in his corner. He had no idea what to expect with this guy. Would Boris be angry? Would John be secured in a place with far more metal and locks rather than the comfy rooms that he had been in? Now that he had been caught, leaving his room suddenly seemed like a very stupid thing to do.
The older mans face was unreadable as he stepped into the elevator. He strangely didn't look John's way. The doors to the elevator slid closed and the man turned to face them, hands still behind his back and still not looking at John. For a brief moment, the teenager had the irrational belief that the older man had genuinely not noticed him. That illusion was shattered as the man spoke.
"The ground floor, if you will."
John slowly pried himself out of his corner. He went to press the appropriate button, all the while never taking his eyes off the side of the mans unreadable face. Once the elevator set to motion once more, John slid back to the corner like a trapped animal. The numbers counted down steadily. In the thirties. Down to the twenties. By the time the display read 14, John finally cracked.
"Why are we not going back to floor twenty nine?" He asked in a small voice, thoroughly intimidated by the unwavering inscrutable demeanor.
"If you wanted to be on floor twenty nine you would not have left it. You were trying to get to basement levels, yes?"
"...Yes. But how did you know?"
"You were being watched on camera looking at building layout. I do not know how you found out or how long you have known." The man finally turned to look him in the eye. If John could have, he would have melted through the metal right then and there to unpin himself from that gaze. "Care to tell me?"
"I..." John began uncertainly. He clammed up again as Boris finally moved. Just as the display read that they were on the second floor, Boris leaned over and flipped a switch on the control panel. The elevator lurched to a halt and a warning light flooded the small space in a yellow wash.
John felt anxiety prickle all over him. He looked down at the mans shoes, unable to meet his eyes, and continued. "Some guy was talking with the guard outside of my room. They thought that I was asleep, but I was sitting against the door. They started talking about Dad..."
"And so you decided to deceive your guard and try to find him." Boris concluded.
"I had to!" John exclaimed defensively, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. "You all have been lying to me. Those guys said you told them to. Even if I said I knew you all would still probably lie to me about him."
Boris considered him calmly. "Did you not stop to consider why we have not told you this?"
John looked away uncomfortably. "Those guys said that Dad wasn't doing good. That it was bad. You wanted to protect me I guess." John rubbed at his upper arms, both against the chill that was beginning to settle into him now that he was not running around, and against the chill of all the horrible things his imagination was suggesting to him.
Boris continued to watch him like a hawk and John did his damnedest not to squirm under the scrutiny. Eventually the head of the security company sighed and flipped the switch on the control panel. The elevator started once more. A quick moment later a ding signaled their arrival at the ground floor and the doors opened wide. Neither occupant moved.
"It is true. I told the others not to tell you to protect you. You, however, do not want to be protected. You are aware that you will not like what you will find, yes?"
"Yes." John said, voice resolute even as his insides seemed to squirm even more fiercely. Boris nodded seemingly more to himself than to John.
"You are determined young man. And resourceful. You are much like your father in that regard. You will not rest I believe until you see him. To prevent any more...incidents, I will take you to him. Follow me."
Boris exited the elevator, and stunned that he was being handed what he wanted so easily as that, John trotted after him somewhat dazed. Through the twists and turns they took, John had question after question building inside of him but he had no idea what to ask first. Or even if they would be answered at all. Relying on the luck that had gotten him thus far, John asked the question that was weighing the most heavily on his mind.
"So what...what happened? To Dad, I mean." John plucked at the him of his over large shirt as they walked. Boris glanced at him out of the corner of his eye then looked forward again. The older man weighed his words carefully for several moments before speaking.
"We are still trying to piece together the whole story. We know he was held for three years. We do not know how your mother found out where your father was being held captive. It seemed though that by finding this information she herself was targeted. She managed to get in contact with my company before fleeing. We were very much relying on reestablishing contact with her to find out who the guilty party is here."
"Have you heard anything at all from her?" John asked with tenuous hope. If one lie was being cleared up, perhaps everything else was a lie too and John would finally know where Mom was. The budding hope was soon crushed.
"No. We have no information on your mothers whereabouts. This is truth." Boris stopped at a set of more heavily constructed elevator doors. He entered in the pass code on the keypad. 1-6-4-0-5, John followed automatically and the elevator doors opened obediently. The two of them stepped inside and Boris continued onward with his explanation.
"Until she decides it is safe to surface from where she is hidden we will have to find answers on our own. There was no one on site to question the night we retrieved your father. Do not worry. We will find out regardless who is responsible. I have full confidence in this."
"When was this? The retrieving I mean. When did you find him?" John asked, watching the numbers count down the few short floors with rising apprehension.
"We actually rescued him the same night we retrieved you. Your mother was concerned that you might be taken as leverage once she had triggered the alarm so we had to act quickly. I apologize that you had to go through frightening experience when my agent retrieved you. We could not risk by explaining things nicely." The doors opened and Boris stepped out but John didn't move to exit just yet.
"Why haven't you asked Dad who took him?" John asked even though a deep down part of him knew that he was being naive. Boris looked down at him with an unsettling look. John couldn't tell what made him more uncomfortable, that look or the open hall waiting in front of them with its lights dimmed for the night casting the truth in shadow.
"We could not." Boris said and continued on down the hall with no further elaboration of that utterly ominous statement. John followed behind him, insides twisting with dread. And beneath that, was a sprinkle of longing. It had been so long since he'd last seen Dad. Too long.
Eventually Boris came to stop in front of a large window that allowed an unobstructed view of the dimly lit room beyond. John came to stand beside of the man and forced himself to look inside.
The first thing that caught his eye, and took him completely by surprise, was a girl. Sleeping on an office chair by some cluttered desks was a blond girl curled tightly in on herself. Even though the chair was large and cushy looking, John wondered how she could manage at all to sleep like that. All around her on the floor were books and printed sheets of paper strewn about like a halo.
John couldn't get a good look at her face as the thick book she was using to cuddle with obscured half of it, but from what he could see she seemed to be in her teens too. And most definitely cute. John managed to tear his eyes away from the girl and to the rest of the room which seemed strangely devoid of his father.
John had expected to see something more like a hospital room. A bed to one side with his father laying upon it. Perhaps various medical equipment beeping and whirring away. Something akin to when they had first been introduced to one another. Instead this room was packed full of computers, tables, and strange equipment with shelves overflowing with boxes. It was nothing like what he expected and there certainly was not the person he expected.
John looked up to Boris with a questioning look. There had been no sign of his father anywhere in there, just the girl and all the weird science stuff. Boris did not look down at him but instead nodded towards the tables and equipment that the girl slept closest too. John peered closer at the cluster of computers attached to an unknown item. He was nearly about to ask for clarity when the realization of what he was looking at struck him…
He lunged towards the glass, pressing as close as he could to get a better look. John hadn't recognized his father because he had been looking for a whole person...not just three fourths of a head. Aghast, John's mouth dropped open but no words would form. His father had never been a particularly large man, but to John he always seemed like the biggest person in the room. But now he was so small and forgotten looking. He knew that his father was a cyborg, he truly did, but there was a difference in knowing something and having the truth viscerally sink in.
Back when they first met, John had initially been rather shy and bashful around his father. It did not take long for that bubble to burst and John had constantly pelted the poor man with barrage after barrage of questions. Are you indestructible? What are you made of? Can you talk to computers? Can you teach me to do cool stuff too?
His mother would often step in whenever she could tell that Dad was getting too overwhelmed John eventually learned to pace his interrogation. Dad would answer each and every one of the questions. Granted, young John understood very little of what he was being told. Complex terminology and metaphors went right over his head and while it all had sounded very cool he saw his father the same as any other adult.
By the time John was older, he was able to understand his father's oddities were simply a part of what he was. He ate so little simply because he could not process more than a handful or so at a time. A younger John had thought it was because of his mothers cooking and had always tried to pass his father the best bits of the meal under the table because eating right was super important. They covertly switched roles as John aged, his Dad passing him the good stuff in exchange for the burnt bits as he could choose to taste them or not. It had been their little secret.
The strange looks from people when Dad didn't cover his face, the various medications kept in a specific cabinet in the kitchen, the furniture that they would go through because they would break if his father was distracted and sat down too heavily...all of this John knew. But what he knew did not compare to what he saw right here and now. Seeing his father for who he truly was for the first time, just a head held up by strange equipment with tubing everywhere and a strip of gauze wrapped over his eyes…
John turned away from the glass so quickly he stumbled. Luckily Boris was there to catch him before he fell. Instead of letting go, the older man embraced him which the teen leaned into gratefully. John buried his face into the man's chest as he fought against tears. Boris muttered something kindly in Russian and patted John's back in such a grandfatherly way that the tears that he had been fighting burst forth unhindered.
"Ah little one, I told you that you would not like. But you deserved to know." John tried to formulate a response but no words could get past the clawed vice that seemed attached to his throat strangling any words that might form. The man continued to comfort him with the gentle pats as he talked. "We have not been able to get him to wake but the Doktor and Sunny have been working themselves to the ground to fix what they could. Doktor is very optimistic and said it could be any day now. Do not fret, he is under best care right now. We will help him. This I promise you."
John could find no other response within him other than to nod. He continued to cry into the older man's jacket. All the stress and fear of the week seemed to pour out of him and John was loathe to relinquish the only bit of comfort and reassurance that was not empty words. Thankfully, Boris seemed to understand that the teen needed this and let the hug continue for as long as John wanted. With everything in his life having been flipped completely upside down, John felt that he would need it for a very long time.
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Additional notes: Guess who wakes up next chapter?