Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was gone.

Her son was gone.

Her baby boy was gone and he was never coming back.

Of course Playtime Co. offered money, so much money, and that’s all it was every time just with different names. Payment for therapy, emotional compensation, “reimbursements for damages”. But that’s all it was, just money. And money couldn’t bring her son back.

He wasn’t coming back.

It didn’t feel real, she wasn’t sure if it ever would.

It had been a few weeks now, the constant stream of reporters coming to their house and trying to shove microphones in their faces, to get them to say something while they were still in the throes of grief, had finally begun to dwindle.

Susan found herself sitting in his room often, staring at the wall opposite his bed. She had cleaned, to the extent of keeping dust from settling, but she left everything else untouched, his notebooks full of doodles and homework still open on his desk surrounded by colored pens, his toys still strewn about his floor, spare pieces of clothing still not put away.

She looked to her side, where they had leaned his Doey toy against his pillow. Its wide smile and empty gaze feeling like they bored into her soul. She stared at it for a moment before grabbing it and throwing it across the room. She froze as it hit the chair before falling back onto the floor, still facing her, still looking at her, still judging her .

She stood, taking a shaky step forward, and made her way to the toy.

She fell to her knees as she picked it back up and folded it into her arms, its soft plastic squishing into itself as she squeezed it.

She felt tears well up in her eyes as she held the toy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to it, “I’m so, so sorry. I could have done better. I should have done better. If I had been just a little faster…”

She curled tighter into herself as she began to sob.

“I’m sorry Jackie”

A letter came in the mail today.

Unmarked save for their address stamped onto the front.

“George?” she called, “another letter. This one doesn’t have anything on it, does that mean the news stations are trying harder, or that they’ve stopped trying at all?” She chuckled humorously to herself, but spoke with tiredness in her voice, worn down by the media’s relentless pursuit after a statement.

“Here, let me see it,” her husband replied.

She moved into the next room where George was sitting, passing it over before sitting down next to him as he opened it.

“What have they said to try and get us to say something this time?” she joked as her husband read it, the levity slowly dropping from her tone as she watched his expression change, his eyes widening. He passed it to her wordlessly, “What? What is it?”

He lightly shook his head and gestured to the letter, as Susan hesitantly began to read.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Ayers,

We can give him back to you. Your son Jack can live.

Show this message to no one

Six weeks from the time of receiving this letter, return to the Playtime Co. factory. Someone will be waiting for you there.

A Friend

Her hands shook as she lowered the letter, making eye contact with her husband, a nervous laugh bubbled up in her chest.

“Is this a prank? Is this some sick person’s idea of a joke? It’s not funny, this isn’t funny.” She pressed the paper down onto the coffee table before standing up, the sudden need to move filling her body.

“Susan…” her husband started softly, “what if it’s real?”

“Don’t do this to me George,” she lifted her hands in frustration, “don’t give me hope.”

“I know, I know Sue, but if it is… do we want to ignore it? Do we want to spend the rest of our lives with that “what if” in our heads?”

She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders beginning to shake, her husband standing to pull her into a hug.

“I miss him George,” she sobbed into his shoulder, “I miss him so much.”

“I know, me too.”

“If we go, and this isn’t real, George I don’t think I could take it.”

“And if it is? Then we have our boy back”

Susan pulled back slightly and gave her husband the barest hint of a smile. “We get our boy back.”

He pulled her back into a hug, staying there for what felt like hours.

Time after the letter seemed to pass at an agonizing pace. Susan checked the date and time repeatedly, feeling like she was going to crawl out of her skin if the time didn’t pass quickly enough.

Regardless of Susan’s agitation, the days passed in days, the hours in hours, and the minutes in minutes. All of her wishes and prayers could not make time go faster, and none of her curses or anxieties could slow it.

And then one day Susan woke up. She woke up to the date being six weeks later than when the letter arrived.

“It’s the day,” George said, “How are you feeling?”

“I… don’t know,” she shifted, moving to sit up. “I’m worried”

George put his hand on top of hers and smiled.

“It’ll be okay”

As she and George got ready, she tried to settle her nerves and keep her expectations realistic.

But despite herself, she was excited. Every time she told herself it was most likely a joke, she thought of seeing her baby boy’s face again, and her hopes rose just a little higher.

Eventually, time passed as time does, and they needed to leave.

“It seems about time, we should get heading out”

“Alright,” Susan turned to her husband, before a thought crossed her mind. “Go start the car? I have to do something quick.”

And in the minutes before she left, in the minutes before she may see her son again, she opened his door.

In the minutes before she brought him home, she picked up his room.

Chapter Text

The car ride was silent. An unpleasant half hour of nothing but sitting with her thoughts.

Slowly the traffic lessened, the road stopped splitting, and the buildings disappeared. They drove through flat nothingness until they saw it in the distance, the factory.

Susan twisted her hands in her lap, anxiety swirling inside of her stomach.

They turned into the lot and parked in a marked visitor space.

George set his hand on hers, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah, yeah I-” she took a shaky breath, “Yes. I need to know. We need to know.”

He squeezed her hands, breaking eye contact to look at the factory, worry strewn on his features.

“And you?” she asked.

His eyes drifted back to meet hers. “I want to see him. If he’s in there then I just need to see him. To know if he’s alright.”

“Then let’s go see our son.”

The lobby gave off an eerie feeling despite the decorations and the people milling around.

Walking up to the front desk, the receptionist smiled as she noticed them.

“What can I help you with?”

Susan glanced at her husband, clearing her throat.

“We’re Susan and George Ayers. We were told to come.”

“Alright, let me just see here…”

She turned to her computer typing on the keyboard to find what she was looking for.

“Here we go, it says here that-” her smile wavered for a split second as she looked closer at the screen. “The lower levels? Visitors don’t go down there.”

She turned back to them, smile straining slightly, and gestured to the side of the room.

“If you would please have a seat and I’ll have someone come talk to you shortly.”

Susan nodded, going to sit in the row of chairs, George following her. Looking back at the receptionist, they saw that she was speaking quickly and quietly into a phone, glancing at them from the corner of her eye.

“That was weird right?” Susan asked.

“Yeah, that didn't seem normal.”

“And what did she mean by “lower levels?”

George just shrugged.

Eventually the receptionist hung up the phone, going back to looking at her computer, her eyes still finding their way towards them.

Some minutes later, a man in a lab coat came out of a side door and made his way to them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ayers?”

“Yes, that’s us.”

“If you’ll follow me please.”

The man led them through a series of white hallways, none bearing any of the rainbow colors in the entrance. It felt like a maze, the only way of knowing your way around being years of familiarity.

Eventually they reached an elevator platform, the bright yellow metal sticking out like a sore thumb. The man gestured them onto it before following after and closing the gate.

“So I’m sure you have questions,” he held up his hand as George opened his mouth, “and they’ll be answered in due time, just wait for us to get a little bit closer, my colleagues will explain it all.”

Susan wrung her hands, not wanting to wait another second. But she had to. She had to wait for her boy. George slipped his hand between hers and she squeezed it tightly.

Finally, the lift stuttered to a stop. The man opened the gate to lead them out, and led them down more indistinguishable hallways.

There was a split, they went one direction, but Susan could’ve sworn, would have sworn, the hallway down the opposite side sounded like crying.

Eventually, the man stopped at a door, swiping his keyboard and directing them inside. As she passed, she saw that the door read “1322” on its label. It was a fairly sparse room, save for the cabinets overhanging counters, assortments of things Susan couldn’t name strewn on top, and the table and chairs in the center where a group of people wearing lab coats all sat expectantly, obviously having been waiting.

“Please, have a seat.”

And they did.

It didn’t make sense. The doctors, or scientists, or whoever they were, their explanations made no sense. She saw him fall. The railing broke and her son- She saw him fall into the vat of viscous material, the mixing beater going around with no care for what was in it. For who was in it. The few times his hand would stick out of the mixture the spinning bar would pull him back under. They had been ushered out of the room. He hadn’t been in there for long.

He had been in there too long.

And they expected her to believe that they just miraculously pulled him out, no harm done, that he was fine, and they weren’t told for weeks afterward? And then they still had to wait. She hadn’t seen her son in months.

She wanted to see her son.

They kept telling them that he would be “different” now. No shit . He almost died . (did die, died and been dead and brought back to life, brought back to her )

She could see George’s similar skepticism on his face, their eyes meeting for a moment, a thousand thoughts of “is this real?” passing between them. They turned back to the doctors.

“We’re sorry you had to wait so long. It was… difficult, to ensure he remained stable,” one of the scientists consoled. “And now that you’re here, we-”

“Can we see him?”

Susan felt a flash of embarrassment at her interruption, quickly pressing it down. They had already waited so long, and they were right there. She just wanted to see him.

There was a pause, the scientist who was speaking glancing towards her colleagues.

“If you would give us a moment.”

They all pressed a little closer to each other, speaking in hushed voices, words audible but indistinguishable. The security camera drifted back and forth. One of them stood, phone in hand, and went through a side door.

It felt like an eternity, waiting.

The security camera stopped.

The man who made the call returned to the room, giving a slight nod.

“We have permission to let you see your son.”

Susan released the breath she didn’t know she was holding, her hand gripping her husband’s.

“Follow me please,” the man asked, moving to a separate door on the other side of the room.

"Sir, ma'am,” He paused just short of opening the door, “I ask that you remain calm whenever you interact with the... patient. He's only been awake a few days now. In many respects he's still adjusting."

Then he opened it and led them inside, the rest of the scientists trailing after them.

Susan felt like she couldn’t breathe.

They were in some sort of viewing room, a large pane of glass allowing them to see into a room she felt could only be described as a cell.

And inside…

Inside…

"Is that... Is that him?” She asked hesitantly, “Is that my boy?"

"Yes ma'am, it is."

Her knees felt weak. He was right there. Inside that room was a body that was blue and tacky and hunched over like a puppet with its strings cut. But if that was him… It was him.

"Oh, George. That's our boy. It’s Jackie."

"Why does he look like that?” She saw her husband’s face twist into something she couldn’t name, something she didn’t like. “What did you do to him!?"

Why was he yelling? Their boy was right there, just a room away. Changed and different but their boy nonetheless.

"Stop it, George! Just stop!” She chastised “That's our son in there. Our SON ."

"Dear, look at it. That's not even human!"

He was right. He was right and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want him to be right.

She fumbled for words, trying to find something, anything she could say to convince him it was okay.

"Let's just talk to him. Y-You'll see. Let's just go in there and talk to him.” She turned to the man who made the call, hoping, praying, that she didn’t look as desperate as she felt. “Can we? Can we talk to him?"

The man paused, looking at Susan, his eyes flicking to the corner of the room and back to her.

"Yes, ma'am, you can.” He nodded slightly, pulling out a drawer, “If you would put these on, for sanitation, then you can go in, whenever you're ready."

He handed them each a pair of shoe covers and a lab coat, and a hair tie for Susan. She slipped them on quickly, pulling her hair up.

She stared at the door to the larger room as she waited, George taking a minute longer than her. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She was going to throw up.

She startled from her thoughts as George brushed her arm.

“Are you ready?”

No.

No.

No she wasn’t.

No she never would be.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this she couldn’t do this she couldn’t do this shecouldn’tshecouldn’tshecouldn’tshecouldn’tshecouldn’t

She took a shaky breath.

“As I’ll ever be,”

The man opened the door.

She felt like she was going to fall over. Every step felt like her legs would give out beneath her.

The body that was now her son shifted, its head lifting as it looked at them. It looked at her.

It was the same as the toy she threw across a room. The same empty eyes that stared through her soul.

She couldn’t do this.

She fumbled for something, anything to say. Anything to make the ever-present remorse that agonized through her body in the last months over her failure to protect him known .

"Jack? Jackie? I... I want you to know... I'm so, so sorry.” Don’t say it like that. “I've never forgiven myself for what happened. I've played it all back a million times in my head, and I know, I know there had to be... something I could have done.” Don’t say it like that. You should be comforting him. “I could've reached a little further. I could've noticed a little sooner. I could've-...” This is for yourself. You're not comforting him. Comfort him. Comfort Him. “But we have you back now. That's what's important. We can-"

"Who… Are. You?"

A voice, low and deep, came from him. It didn’t sound like him. It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t her boy . But it was her boy.

He didn’t know her.

"J-Jack?... Honey, it's me. It's mommy."

His whole being shifted, everything changed and nothing changed. He looked at her and it felt like there was something in his eyes.

"M...Mommy?"

"Yes. Yes! It's mommy and daddy. You remember, don't you?"

Please God please remember. He has to remember.

Something shifted.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

No.

No no no she was so close.

Please.

"Hey. Hey, you'll be okay, I promise. Mommy's only here to talk."

His face twisted, an expression of anger that would look cartoonish if it wasn't her boy that was making that face.

The security camera paused in its place.

"No, no I don't WANT to talk. Get out!! "

At some point he stood up. She didn’t notice him stand up. He was taller than her, she had to look up at him now.

Please.

"Susan,” George grabbed her arm lightly, pulling her back, “I think we should leave..."

She shrugged his hand off and gave him a look.

"Jackie, I'm staying right here. I'm not leaving you. Not ever again, do you hear me?"

She was trying. She was trying so hard. She just wanted to comfort him. She had to comfort him.

She had to comfort herself.

"The gentle voices lie! I know what they do! They lie... And they poke... And they hurt!"

His body was bubbling, his limbs twisting bigger. It looked painful.

Please.

"Susan,” George was grabbing at her arm harder now, “Susan get away from it!"

He was pulling her away.

She let him.

"J-Jack?... Mommy won't lie to you, Jackie.” She had to get through to him. She had to try. She had to try. “Mommy won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

George twisted the handle.

It was locked.

"Hey... Hey! Open this door!"

The screen in the observation room flickered.

Jackie swung.

PLEASE

She shoved George to the side.

Pain flared from what was left of her leg.

The latch clicked.

“Oh God, Susan. ”

The door opened and she felt herself getting pulled out, George following into the room immediately after her.

She heard crying.

"ⁱ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ"

The door closed.

Chapter Text

Susan hated hospitals.

She had no opinion of them, not before. She decided she hates them now.

She hated the checkups, the poking and prodding, the stretches to keep the rest of her leg healthy.

A familiar sentiment echoed in her head.

She had been stuck in this bed for a week since she woke up, not able to move around or walk, the bottom of her left leg crushed, reduced to pulp gone. She didn’t know how long she’d been out for, how long the doctors worked to stabilize her. There was no hope in saving her leg, they said, too damaged.

George visited her daily. He would have slept in the hospital room had they let him. They had talked, to the extent of the weather and him asking how she was feeling.

They hadn’t talked about Jackie yet. She didn’t think she wanted to.

She didn’t blame him, she couldn’t. He was just confused and frightened, anyone would be. It had to have been terrifying, drowning in the vat of dough, then suddenly waking up as something else. She wished she could have been there for him.

She replayed it in her head constantly, every word, every movement, every expression. It consumed her thoughts, and she had nothing to do but think. Her heart ached to think of her boy in that room, alone and scared.

She was going to see him again. She had to see him again. She couldn’t leave it there. She was close, she was so, so close. He knew her, if only for a moment, and she would do whatever it would take to make that moment happen again. She would see his smile again, make him light up again.

A knock on her door.

“Mrs. Ayers? I’m here for your checkup.”

She was finally home again.

In a wheelchair, and with one less leg, but home nonetheless.

While giving her a final run-through of taking care of her leg, her doctor told her it would take at minimum four weeks before she could begin getting a fitting for a prosthesis. And even after that, she couldn’t get a permanent prosthetic for at least another four months.

It felt far too long.

She couldn’t wait five months. She couldn’t leave him alone for that long. She was his mother, he needed her. She needed him.

She sat in the chair, trying to read a book. Her eyes had skimmed the same page three times over and not processed a single word. She tried again. It didn’t work.

She closed the book with a huff and tossed it onto the coffee table. George wouldn’t be home from work for a couple more hours.

She turned, pushing on her chair’s wheels to move closer to the table, and grabbed the tv remote, hoping something was on to distract her.

Hours later, she woke up to a hand brushing her hair out of her face, George smiling at her. The tv was turned off.

“The doctor said not to sleep in your chair. I don’t want you hurting yourself dear.”

She rolled her eyes laughing lightly.

“I’m fine George, no harm done.”

“If you say so. Do you want me to get started on dinner?”

“I can help, just because I’m sitting down doesn’t mean I can’t use my arms.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to,” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, “Now what do you want to eat?”

She smiled.

“Whatever you’d like.”

Their dinner that night was calm and uneventful, and as Susan moved to the stairs she realized,

She couldn’t get to his room.

Her heart twinged as she stared up to the second floor, wishing she could do something to get up there, to tell his toy him goodnight.

“Sue?” She looked down the hallway to where George was standing, “Are you coming?”

She spared one last glance up the stairs before moving down the hallway.

Her dreams were filled with crying.

A month later, she was back at the hospital getting her preparatory fitting for a temporary prosthetic. Her leg was finally healing, the staples and stitches gone, the scar still noticeable but fading gradually.

“How long until I’m able to walk again?”

The doctor hummed, “With your physical therapy appointments you’ll be able to walk for short periods in about a month or two, then in a couple more months, after your leg heals completely, you’ll be able to get your permanent prosthetic. We won’t have your temporary for a couple weeks yet, but once we do your physical therapist will show you how to safely walk in it without hurting yourself and how to know when your leg needs a break.”

Susan nodded. A couple months, it was just a couple months. She’s waited this long, she could wait just a little longer.

The rest of the appointment was her doctor going through the daily care again, discussing the necessary compression sock for the end of her leg, how to massage the scar tissue and desensitize it, and the daily stretches.

“How did it go?” George asked as she went back to the waiting area.

“It went about as good as you could expect. He said I won’t be able to walk for a couple more months. I wish I could skip past all of this and just get up .”

“Hey,” he brushed her cheek, “Don’t push yourself. You’re doing great dear, I promise. Let’s go home.”

He waited for her to start moving before walking alongside her to the door, her head hanging. He thought she was doing great, but that wasn’t true. She wasn’t doing nearly good enough. She had to do better . She had to be better.

The car ride home was silent. As was dinner. And the time afterwards.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, sending her goodnight’s to somewhere she couldn’t see. To someone she couldn’t reach.

The weeks went by, and she got her temporary prosthesis.

She was at a physical therapy appointment. She was supposed to be learning to walk again.

She had to learn to walk again.

Slight tremors shook her hands as she put the different pieces on, fiddling with it until it felt right. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.

The next few hours were a series of practicing walking with almost all of her weight on the parallel bars at her sides., and taking breaks to let her leg rest.

When it was time for George to pick her up she was exhausted.

“Hey,” He kissed her forehead as he helped her into the car “How was it?”

“It was too slow.”

He chuckled, “I’m sure it was.”

After getting back to their house, when George went into a separate room, she grabbed the prosthetic and began to put it on.

“Hey Sue I-” He cut himself off when he saw what she was doing. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be wearing that right now.”

“It’s fine.” She said curtly, finishing donning it, before grabbing the arm of the couch and using her good leg to push herself out of her wheelchair. She faltered, putting more weight onto her arms.

“Sue!” He rushed to her side, wrapping his arm under her shoulders and trying to lower her back into the chair.

“No, George -” She shrugged his arm off and tried to take a half step, her leg giving out. He darted forward to catch her, stopping her from falling to the floor. He turned and helped ease her back into her chair, stopping her when she tried to stand up again.

“Susan you have to be careful. The doctor said you should wear it minimally for now, much less trying to walk. You just got back from physical therapy. Please, you have to rest now.”

“No, I can’t. I have to be able to walk as soon as possible. I have to.”

She had to be mobile, she had to be able to move. She had to be able to get to him. What use was she if she couldn’t even get to him?

“No you don’t. It isn’t a race, you have to take care of yourself.”

Her face twisted. He didn’t understand.

“I don’t have time for that. I have to work at it as much as I can.”

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You have time, It’s okay.”

He didn’t understand.

“No, George. I don’t have time.”

“What? What is so important that you’re going to hurt yourself for it?”

He didn’t understand.

“I’m going back!”

He froze, staring at her.

“I’m going back,” He was shaking his head. “I have to go back there.”

“Susan you can’t, ” She started to open her mouth “You can’t be serious.”

“I have to see him again. I-”

“He doesn’t know us anymore!” He scowled, “Susan he took your leg. He tried to kill us Sue, I… I don’t think he’s our boy, anymore.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her shoulders shook and she felt like she was outside of her own body, barely registering the tears running down her cheeks.

“I don’t care. I don’t care. He was just confused and scared, George.” His face softened, “I can’t leave him there. I couldn’t live with myself. He’s all alone.”

“I know, I know. I miss him too. I miss him so much,” He looked to the side as he blinked tears from his eyes. “But how do we know he would even want to see us? He didn’t know us Sue. ”

She turned his face back towards hers.

“But he did. It was just for a second, but I know what I saw. It was our Jackie.”

He hesitated, looking into her eyes, before breathing a deep sigh.

“Alright, alright, we’ll go back. I’ll go back with you,” Her face lit up, before his lifted hand made her pause. “I don’t know if they’ll even let us see him again, but if they do, please, you have to promise me, if there is any inkling that it may go bad, you have to get out of the room.”

“But I-” She clenched her hands into fists and relaxed them, “Okay, I will.”

“And please, take care of yourself. You can’t force yourself to heal faster. Just let your body take the time it needs.”

“But George,” She protested. “He’s waiting for us.”

“I know he is, but you can’t go to him any faster by hurting yourself.”

Her shoulders dropped as she looked away from him.

“Alright.”

He grabbed her hands in his.

“Thank you dear. Now let’s get this off and I’ll make us dinner.”

And another evening of sending her goodnight up their stairwell went by.

Time passed as time does, and her leg stabilized enough for a permanent prosthetic. She was able to walk around with minimal discomfort most of the time now, rarely needing her cane except on the worst days.

Slowly but surely, she rested, and she waited, and she healed.

She and George had been discussing how they would get back to their son. They didn’t know the way to his room, and doubted they could make it there if they were unable to get permission.

She didn’t know what she would say if when she saw him. She didn’t know if she should say anything at all.

All she knew was that the time was coming. They were going to drive back to Playtime Co., and she was going to see her son.

And that night, the sky curtained by stars, she went to the stairs, lifting herself up them one step at a time, and made her way to his door. She opened it and walked in slowly, making her way to the bed. Sitting on the comforter, she lifted her son’s favorite toy from his pillow, wrapped her arms around it, and wished it goodnight.

And miles away, in a room with no view of the night sky, the sleep of three was eased.

Chapter Text

They were going back today. They had been talking about it for the past couple of weeks, as she got better. George never stopped fretting over her despite her insistence that she was fine. She was back to near full mobility. She could do things now. Her leg only bothered her on occasion, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t like she was looking to be running around anytime soon.

George took off of work, and they were taking the morning slow, keeping their time low stress before the inevitable spike in heaviness later that day. She didn’t know how it was going to go. She hoped it would be better. She would do better this time, be softer, push him less. And when if he wanted her to leave, she would. She would listen.

She hoped he wouldn’t. Hoped she could see something in his eyes again, that he would look at her like he knew her again, that he would know her again.

She took a breath, stopping her ruminations.

She had made them breakfast, quick and easy before they left, and was in their bedroom getting ready. George came in the door, standing behind her chair as she did her makeup in the mirror.

“How are you feeling?” he asked while putting his hand on her shoulder, leaning forward slightly so that his face was closer to hers, catching her eyes through the mirror.

“I don’t know, nervous?” She flicked mascara through her eyelashes. “Definitely nervous. What if he really doesn't want to see us again? What if we go back there, and all of this was for nothing?”

“Come on,” He chided, “Don’t get in your head.”

“But really George. There is a very real possibility that he doesn’t want anything to do with us now.”

“And there’s just as much of a chance that he does,” He brushed aside a piece of hair that was in her face and grabbed a palette to pass to her. “Yes, the chance that this won’t work out is there, it has been this whole time, but that doesn’t mean we have to let it get to us this close to seeing him again. It will be okay, we’ll be okay, whether he wants us or not.”

“I’m worried George,” She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, “I’m so, so worried. He came back. We got him back. And if he doesn’t want us anymore when we’re so close, I…-” She took a sharp breath.

“I know dear.” He pressed his temple to hers. “I know.”

The ride to Playtime Co. was quiet, save for the faint music coming from the radio and the hum of the car’s engine. George saw Susan from the corner of his eye, wringing her hands together, relaxing them, and twisting them together again.

He knew what she was ruminating about. His thoughts were filled with much the same.

It was very, very likely that Jack didn’t want to see them anymore, considering his reaction to them last time.

George wondered what he meant when he said gentle voices lie, when he said they would hurt .

He didn’t know if Jack would want to see them, if he was even really Jack anymore. He was having a hard time fully believing it. It didn’t look like him, it didn’t sound like him, it tried to kill them , but Susan was certain that it was him. There was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. George decided to believe in that instead.

He didn’t know what he would do if he fully rejected them. He didn’t know what Susan would do. The hope of seeing their son again had been her driving force for her entire healing process. It was what made her push herself. What made her go farther, do more. She would fall apart, and George would have to pick up her pieces. He didn’t know if he would be able to pick up his own.

He took one hand off of the steering wheel and laid it on top of hers, her movements growing less agitated, her hands gripping his.

He took a breath.

It would be okay.

The glass doors loomed in front of them as they approached the factory, growing steadily closer.

Susan walked with long strides, her face set and her gaze unwavering, George right beside her. She would be seeing her son today. She would .

Once inside she marched straight to the receptionist’s desk. The same woman as the last time sat behind the counter, having asked them to wait for one moment as she finished something.

A brief moment later she turned to them. Her smile tensed.

“What can I help you with?” She asked pleasantly.

“Susan Ayers. I was here five months ago to see someone. I need to see them again”

The receptionist’s smile strained fractionally more.

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to authorize that.”

“I don’t care what you’re “allowed” to authorize.” She leaned forward. “All I need to know is a room number and how to get to it.”

“I’m sorry. ” She replied, the undertone of her voice laced with what Susan didn’t know was remorse or hostility, “But I am afraid that I can’t give you that information. You’ll have to come back later, or make an appointment.”

Susan grit her teeth. That wasn’t good enough .

She opened her mouth to snap back when a loud ringing filled the room.

“Excuse me for one moment,” The woman said, turning away to pick up the phone. “This is Howells, how can I-”

She froze, her eyes widening. The person on the other end talked for a few moments before she responded.

“Sir that goes against protocol. Yes I understand that but-” Her jaw snapped shut, “Yes sir, I understand.”

She hung up the phone and turned back to them.

“If you’ll have a seat please, someone will be with you shortly.”

They moved to sit in the chairs at the side of the room.

Susan held George’s hand in hers, rubbing circles onto the back of it, apprehension and anticipation roiling in her stomach.

They hadn’t waited for long when a man came out of a side door. He looked to the receptionist who jerked her head in their direction, before approaching them. It was the man from their last time there, the one who made the phone call.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ayers, I believe I’m bringing you to your son?”

Susan nodded.

“Follow me then.”

The path they took was only vaguely recognizable, whispers of familiarity in the back of her mind. At the split in the hall she paused for just a second. She didn’t hear anything down the other way. It felt too quiet. It felt fake.

Once more they were led to a gray door, the man swiping his card as the light turned green. The numbers on the front of it felt like they screamed at her. She wanted to peel them off.

Inside the room there was a whole group of people in lab coats, waiting for them, each head turning to stare as they entered. A few were familiar. A few were from the last time.

“Don’t worry,” the man reassured. “They’re just here to take notes and to see that nothing happens this time.”

“What do they need to take notes for?” George asked.

The man didn’t answer.

They followed him as he walked to the side door from before, and Susan couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Once in the room, she took a moment to look through the window. Jack sat in the corner, head tilted down and a vacant expression on his face. He wasn’t moving.

“If I may suggest, it may be better for just one of you to go in there,” Susan tore her eyes from the glass to look at the man. “Having both of you in there may have increased the present stressors, which likely led to the… reaction, last time.”

“What other stressors were there?” Susan asked.

“I- there simply were,” He turned to the door, deflecting, “Which of you is going to go in?”

Susan made eye contact with her husband, an unspoken conversation passing between them. He gestured lightly to her.

“I will,” She said.

The man nodded, “Alright, you can go in if you’re ready to now.”

“Nothing for “sanitation?” George asked, an almost snide undertone in his voice.

“Ah, uh, no. No you don’t need those this time.” He stammered, his eyes flitting nervously up behind them.

Susan nodded, walking towards the door. The gaggle of scientists inched forward, the group practically radiating anticipation, clipboards and pencils raised. As she approached, the man avoided eye contact, lightly pulling the door open to allow her in.

She crept forward slowly, keeping her movements as steady as she could. No motion came from the form in the corner.

She paused once she was a ways into the room, the door behind her shutting with a click. The noise caused a twitch to ripple through the blue body, his face shifting slowly as if waking up.

Not taking her eyes off of him, she backed up to the wall behind her and slowly lowered herself to the floor, taking care to put less weight onto her bad leg.

She sat still, watching the face that she recognized but was still oh so unfamiliar to her.

It was slow, the little movements of his face gradually growing until he blinked, his neck lifting sluggishly, his head lagging behind it, before he turned to look around his room, gaze immediately locking onto Susan. His eyes widened, mouth barely quirking up, then quickly turned down, eyebrows furrowing, before settling into a neutral expression. He stayed in the corner, not saying anything.

Susan looked back at him, chin resting propped up on her knee. She lifted her hand and waved slightly. He continued to stare at her.

There was nothing in his eyes.

He pulled his neck farther into his body, lowering his head and curling up slightly, arms crossed in front of his chest and mouth pressed into a thin line.

As she looked at him she could see his face changing minutely, eyes changing shape almost imperceptibly and his mouth barely moving like he was talking into thin air.

She wondered what he was thinking, what was going on inside of his head.

She wanted to go up to him and hold him in her arms, tell him it was all going to be okay, to bring him home. She tried that last time.

It didn’t work.

How long they stayed like that Susan didn’t know. Eventually, she turned her face away, and gingerly pulled out of her pocket a mini sketchbook, criss crossing her legs in front of herself. She set it on her lap, opening it and slowly, lightly, she began to draw, stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. He retracted further into himself, face turning down, marginal expressions still cycling across his features.

She did her best to recreate him, not that it was overly difficult with him being curled into himself. But his face. It changed too subtly, too quickly for her to take the time to copy it. Regardless, she had a whole page of faint scribbled expressions, of the ones that came across his face most often.

She started to press her pencil to the paper, pausing when something in the air shifted. She kept her eyes trained on her book as his head stretched ever so slightly closer to her. She turned the page and began making random doodles as she felt his eyes watching her, looking at what she was drawing.

She spent a good number of minutes sketching out a cat from memory, Jackie always liked cats, as he continued to inch closer to her.

She finished the underdrawing, ready to line it, and pressed her pencil harder into the paper, drawing it across with a loud scratch, a number more quickly following as she gave it fur.

He jerked back in a blink, hands pressed to the sides of his head.

Susan looked up quickly, setting her pencil down, the sharp click of it on the floor causing another flinch. Against her better judgement, against the parts of her brain screaming at her, making her think of this same room she was stuck in months ago, against reason, she tried to talk to him.

“Hey, are you alright?” He was shaking his head side to side, hands still clamped on either temple, fingers pressing in, “What’s wrong?”

He was muttering to himself, words coming out faster and louder.

“Stop stop stop Stop STOP STOP! ”

Slowly, she put her sketchbook and pencil back into her pocket, standing carefully. She stood still, stuck between going to the door to make getting out, if needed, much easier, and going to him, holding his face in her hands and telling him it would all be okay. She settled for trying to talk him through, if she could.

God she hoped she could.

“Stop what? Do you not want me to draw anymore? I put it away, it’s alright”

“No no no no! You’re testing me. You’re taking notes.” He was grabbing at his head, fingers running down, leaving deep gouges. His body was rippling again, “You’re watching me and testing me and you’re going to say that I did bad! ”

The final word was accompanied by his fist swinging out to slam against the wall behind him, opposite Susan. She slowly stepped backward.

“No sweetie, I’m not testing you at all. You didn’t do bad, you did nothing wrong Jackie.”

“That isn’t my NAME!”

He exploded, vaguely formed arms burst from his growing torso, writhing in the air and against the ground.

Susan paused. That was the last thing she expected him to say.

“What is your name then?”

He froze, arms stalling midair.

“I-” He pressed himself against the floor, arms going back to clawing at his head. “It’s K- Ma- I, I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know Idon’tknow Idon’tknow Idon’tknow!”

His yelling devolved into sobs, extra arms flailing, hitting any surface around himself with bangs that reverberated in her skull.

Susan began backing up. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to make sure he was okay. But she couldn’t. Not now.

In the blink of an eye, an arm lashed out at her. She didn’t have time to react, to move, to do anything but think that at least she got to see him one more time.

Just as quickly as it moved, it stopped, an inch of air between it and her. When she glanced over, his face was furrowed, mouth filled with sharp red teeth gritted in concentration. As quickly as it came, it was pulled away, going back into his body. Almost immediately, another arm reached out to her, getting pulled back just as fast. In a matter of moments there was a flurry of arms bursting out of him as if desperate to reach her only to be yanked back before they could. It reminded Susan of a black hole, spreading out and grabbing and pulling everything in.

She took a step back, looking at the arms. Some were in fists, others had the fingers curled in, grabbing, and some were extended fully, reaching and searching and looking for her.

He was reaching for her.

He was crying.

She lifted her arm, and reached back.

Almost instantaneously, every arm recoiled backward, spreading far away from her. She stepped forward. The arms flinched back again, moving to wind around his body curled up on the ground.

“Go away,” She stopped in place, he was right there. She just had to reach him. “Leave me alone. Go away. Get OUT! ”

Susan nodded, though she doubted he could see, and walked backwards towards the door.

Just as she reached out for the door handle she heard him faintly, his voice watery.

“Why do you hurt? ”

His whole body was wound tightly into itself, the edges starting to sink, looking like they were melting. She just wanted to hold him.

‘I’m sorry,” She rested her hand on the door handle, “I love you.”

She opened the door and walked out.

“Susan! ”

George’s worried voice was the first thing she heard as soon as she went into the room.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine George. He didn’t touch me.”

He sighed. “Alright, good.”

“That was incredible!” One of the scientists that had been watching exclaimed. “We’ve never seen 1322 react in such a manner! He was docile for so long, extremely unusual. And stopping himself from harming you? It’s just unbelievable.”

Susan felt her face twist into something she had no doubt looked supremely pissed off.

She grit her teeth, ready to tell the lady off, when a scientist she didn't recognize spoke up.

“Johnson. ” The woman’s face dropped, “I understand your excitement, but now is neither the time nor the place. If you cannot contain yourself until then, you should leave the room.”

She shrunk in on herself.

“Yes sir.”

The new man turned to them.

“I apologize for my subordinate.” He glanced back at the woman before looking at them, “Now, I would like to make you an offer.”

Susan crossed her arms as George responded.

“What offer?”

“Nothing bad I promise. It’s just an offer for you to come here and see him… semi-regularly.”

“He’s our son. ” She scowled, “That shouldn’t be an offer you have to make.”

“Yes, I agree. And your answer?”

Susan felt like she was being scammed. Like she was willing to crawl under a box to get a reward as someone waited to pull away the stick holding it up.

But if it was the only way to see him…

“Alright,” She felt herself saying, “Just send us a schedule.”

The man smiled. It felt like a trap.

“I’ll have one made and sent to your address as soon as possible,” He held out his hand. “I’m Smith. Henry Smith.”

George shook his hand, then he turned to Susan, and she did as well. Her skin crawled.

“How nice to make your acquaintance.”

They were leaving the building when Susan reached out for George’s hand, squeezing it.

“What are they doing to him in there George?”

His face hardened as he shook his head lightly.

They didn’t know. They didn’t want to know.

They needed to know.

They went home.

Chapter Text

A few days after their visit to the Playtime Factory, Susan and George received another envelope in the mail. Blank, white, with no return address. They knew where it was from regardless.

Inside were pages of a printed calendar that went on for months, dates marked with almost haphazard spacing, some with only a day or two gap, some with two weeks.

“How long does this go on for?” George muttered, flipping through the sheets as Susan marked them on the calendar they hung in their kitchen.

“Do they expect us to leave him there forever?” Susan scoffed, “To never bring him home?”

“I’m not sure our house could… accommodate, him.”

“George” She chastised, “We can’t just leave him there. Something’s wrong with that place. I don’t trust it, not at all.”

“I know dear, neither do I. But it would be difficult, with where we are.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

The next few minutes were quiet as she continued marking the days. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she neared the end.

“What is it?”

“What would our friends think?” A smile worked its way onto her face, “James, Nicole, you remember our son? Well he’s eight feet tall and made out of dough now.”

“And blue.” George added.

“And blue!”

She leaned against him as her laughter quieted to soft breaths, quickly stifling it when her hiccups started to sound too close to cries.

They stood together in the middle of their kitchen, holding onto each other, holding each other up.

“Sue…” George broke the silence. “The next visit is three days from now.”

“And?”

“It’s in the middle of the week, I can’t keep calling out. “Family emergency” will only work for so long.”

“George, are you saying we shouldn’t go?”

“Just me. You can take the other car.”

“No, not without you there. He’s your son too.”

“I know, I wish I could.” He sighed, “But if that’s when we’re able to see him, then it’s better to see him. We can’t leave him alone, not there.”

“I don’t like it,” She looked away. “You’re right, but I don’t have to like it.”

He brushed a stray hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

“I always am.”

“Oh shut up!” She laughed, hitting his shoulder.

“You wound me!” His face broke into a smile as he pulled her into a hug. “I’ll never recover!”

Three days passed, and Susan didn’t feel ready. The last visit ended in, barely, less disaster than the first. He still yelled at her, told her to go, swung at her. But he stopped himself too, reached for her and stopped himself and cried. He fought with himself and she didn’t know why. She didn’t know how to help.

She pulled herself from her thoughts to slip out of bed as George got up for work. She followed shortly after him, getting dressed and ready for the day. She felt slowed down, the stress and anxiety of the past months getting to her.

As George stood in the front doorway to say goodbye, he grabbed her hand.

“Hey,” He looked at her eyes, heavy and bagged from worry despite the makeup covering them. “You’ll do great, I promise.”

“But what if it goes bad again?”

“It went better than the first time, so this visit should go better than the last, trust me.”

“Alright,” She sighed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day at work.”

“See you later dear,” He smiled, stepping down onto the driveway. “Make sure to tell me all about how great it goes.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she rolled her eyes and closed the door.

Hours later, she found herself pacing, telling herself it would be okay. Eventually, she looked at the clock, realizing it was later than she wanted it to be, and grabbed her bag to head out.

It would be okay. It would be alright.

It would be fine.

She hoped.

Walking once more into the Playtime Co. lobby, she approached the receptionist’s desk.

The woman turned to look at her as she approached, face held neutral.

“Susan Ayers, I have an appointment this time.”

Not responding, the receptionist turned to her computer, looking through it. Finding what she was searching for, she turned back to Susan.

“I’ll call someone up for you. Please have a seat.”

She had been sitting down for only a few minutes when the side door opened, the same man from the last time coming out once more. He paused in the doorway, Susan already walking towards him.

The walk was quiet. The elevator was not.

As it was going down, she turned to him.

“May I ask what your name is?” He jumped like he hadn’t expected her to speak, eyes wide, “I haven’t caught it yet, and if I’m going to keep seeing you, I’d like to know who you are.”

“I uh, Andrew, it’s Andrew.”

She held out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Andrew, I’m Susan.”

They didn’t talk the rest of the way down.

The walk to Jack (?) ’s room was slowly growing in her memory, identical passages differentiating themselves to her.

Reaching the door, Andrew swiped his card to unlock it, holding it open for her. The numbers stared at her, watching her, judging. What did they mean?

Inside was another group of scientists, a mix of vaguely familiar faces spread throughout completely unknown ones. They all stared at her. They all expected something from her.

She looked away from them and moved towards the observation room door. They weren’t why she was there. Andrew followed a step behind.

Once through the doorway, she looked through the glass. He was in the corner again, hunched over. Why was he always there? Why did he always look dead? She kept looking as she waited for the okay to go inside.

Andrew moved around her, unlocking the door and opening it gently. He gestured in and she moved forward without hesitation. She kept her steps light and made her way further towards her son. The click of the door closing seemed to wake him up again, his face shuffling around as he regained awareness.

Susan moved to the side wall, further from the door and closer to him than last time.

He blinked a couple times before looking up, noticing her immediately. She smiled slightly and gave him a small wave again.

He sat still for a moment, face unchanging, before hesitantly lifting his hand up and giving a tiny wave back.

Susan tried not to grin too wide.

They sat on either side of the room in uncertain silence, though Susan wasn’t uncomfortable. The anxiety, the tension, had eased. They sat in each others’ company, and it was okay.

After who knew how long, she turned away, reaching into her small side bag and pulling out a book. It was an old paperback that had been sitting on her shelf for ages that she had never gotten the chance to read. She didn’t even know if she’d like it, but it was worth a try.

She shuffled her legs, sticking them out in front of her and leaning back against the wall. Rested her elbows on her thighs, she opened the book, skimming through the front matter to the story.

It was slow going. She wasn’t following the plot overly closely, some fantasy story with knights and dragons, but it was something to do, something to put her mind on as she sat together with her son.

He was still staring at her, his face still. His attention was on her.

She wanted to talk to him, to ask him how he was doing, to tell him she wanted to bring him home. But that didn’t go over well the first time, and the last thing she wanted to do was overwhelm him, didn’t want to set off his seemingly hair trigger.

She wanted to go back in time, to catch him and fix this.

She couldn’t.

She tuned back into her surroundings when she heard a noise in front of her. From the corner of her eye she saw him shuffle forward slightly, hands pushing him across the floor, expression anxious but still fixed on her. She kept her eyes on the book, more pretending to read than actually processing the words she was skimming across.

A few minutes later, another shuffle, a little farther, a little closer.

She went back to reading, the protagonist having been chosen for some important role that was probably introduced ten chapters ago that she hadn’t been paying enough attention to to notice.

Slowly, Susan didn’t know how long it took, it felt like an eternity and a moment together, he inched forward to her. When it seemed like he had finally stopped, he was no more than two arm lengths away, fingers laced in front of his chest and worrying at each other. She felt like she could touch him if she leaned over, could reach him if she really tried.

She didn’t.

Continuing her page skimming, she waited for him, waited to see if he would try to interact with her. Waited to see if he would simply continue to sit there, looking at her but trying to make it seem like he wasn’t.

Her waiting paid off when he spoke, voice barely whisper quiet yet the deep tone resounded in the room.

“What are you reading?”

She looked up, fighting to keep her smile down, her expression neutral. She didn’t think she was doing a very good job.

“An old book I haven’t been able to read yet. It’s been collecting dust on my shelf for years.”

He kept looking away, hands fidgeting.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a generic fantasy story,” More of her smile slipped through, “Castles and dragons and princes.”

He nodded, looking down.

She waited a beat before looking back at the book, giving him the space to continue if he wished. She didn’t think he liked being stared at, the expectation of a response.

He was different .

He continued to fidget with his hands, pressing them harder into each other. They started to blend messily at the edges before he pulled them apart, then began picking at them again.

She wanted to hold them, to ask what was wrong and how she could fix it. She wanted to ease his worries. She didn’t know how.

A beat.

“Why…” she lifted her head. He was only half looking at her, hands a mess in front of him. “Why, do you keep coming back?”

She worked her jaw, thinking of everything she wanted to say, every answer she could give that question.

“Because I… I want to see you.”

Numerous expressions passed across his face in a moment, settling on confusion.

“But, why? ” His shoulders drooped and he seemed to sink into himself. The picking at his hands grew faster, little bits falling to the floor, “Why do you want to see me? I- I tried to hurt you.”

He did hurt her. She decided not to point that out.

“Because I want to spend time with you. Because you’re important to me.”

He shrank down more.

“But- but you don’t know me. I don’t remember you.”

Her heart sank to her stomach. She kept her face neutral.

“Then we’ll have to get to know each other. I’ll only stop coming if you ask me to”

He gave her the tiniest of nods, swiping his hand over the bits on the floor, picking them back up.

She looked at him sadly, eyebrows pressed together. He glanced up, catching her eye, and hurriedly looked down again.

She turned back to her book, giving him space.

They sat like that for what felt like a long time, close to each other but a mile apart.

He pressed his hands to the floor.

She kept skimming the book.

He shuffled closer.

She waited.

“Is… the book good?”

She shrugged halfheartedly.

“It’s alright.”

He started fidgeting again.

“Would- would you read it to me?”

Her heart soared.

“I’m not sure how much you’d like it. It’s kind of boring.” She smiled, hoping he picked up on the humor in her tone.

The barest lift at the corner of his mouth.

“But if you insist. ”

He shifted, leaning forward to rest his head on his arms, laying on the floor. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, and laid his hand next to her leg, fingers barely on top of it. She smiled softly.

Flipping backwards in the book until she reached the first page, she glanced at him.

He was looking at her, waiting.

Was there something in his eyes?

She couldn’t tell .

She took a breath.

“Long ago in the ancient days, when dragons rode the wind, there was a kingdom…”

And she read.

She read chapter after chapter, words flowing as she narrated, her son next to her. He blinked slowly as he listened, stare unwavering. And surely, eventually, his blinks grew longer and more frequent, until his eyes stayed closed. His form drooped, spreading out where it met the floor and fingers wrapping more around her shin.

She continued reading, not knowing if he was truly asleep or simply resting. She read until she passed the point she had reached by just skimming, her throat growing sore.

Pausing, she watched him for a reaction. When she received none, she pulled out the pocket watch she had brought, checking the time.

Late.

It was very late.

She had been there for hours.

She should go home.

She looked to her side, to her son. His face was relaxed, his form at ease. She studied every bit of it, what was left of it.

She didn’t want to leave him here.

She couldn’t bring him home.

She sighed deeply. She had to go.

She put the watch and book inside of her bag. Lifting her left leg, she started to ease her right out from under his hand. He startled, eyes blinking open and body re-solidifying. Her leg was stuck.

“Wha- What are you doing?” He stared at her groggily, pushing himself up.

She felt her face fall and looked away.

“It’s late,” She turned back to him, “I have to go.”

Distress slowly grew on his features, his eyebrows furrowing.

“But…” His gaze roamed slightly like he was looking for something, “You don’t have to leave right now.”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

He looked away, his grip on her leg, her good leg, tightening marginally.

“You could stay, just a little longer.”

She thought about it, she really did.

“I wish I could, but my husband,” Your father , “he’s waiting for me. I have to go home.”

He wilted, face going slack. She waited for him to move, to speak, but nothing came from him.

She moved her left leg underneath herself and started to raise herself into a kneel. As her right knee lifted, his hand slid down her leg, leaving a thick smear behind it. She looked at him quickly and- god, he was melting. His face was sinking, features becoming distorted, as it almost ran down his body into a growing puddle on the floor, the end of his other arm disappearing into it.

Susan racked her brain for something, anything, she could do to fix this that wasn’t staying.

Because she wanted to. She wanted to be here with him and have him close to her but she couldn’t .

She did the only thing she could think to do, the only thing her panicking brain could come up with, because she couldn’t just leave.

She lifted her hand and reached for him.

He shrank back, the liquified parts of his body pulling in as he shifted away. She paused, waiting for him to stop, before she carefully, gingerly, reached for him again. She moved slowly, giving him the chance to move away again.

He didn’t.

Her hand met his cheek, and she cupped the side of his face in her palm.

“Oh sweetie ,” his face pressed into her hold, bits of it going through her fingers and sticking to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry that I have to leave, but I promise that I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

His face shifted and he looked at her and-

“You promise?”

Despite the voice, despite the body and the fact that he was melting through her fingertips, despite the fact that it didn’t seem like he remembered her.

Despite it all, it was him. She looked at him and it was her boy. She could see it, clear as day. She could see it in his eyes.

She brought her other hand up to his face.

“I promise, cross my heart.”

He took a visible breath and pulled his face away, blinking. The look was gone.

“Okay, okay then,” He seemed to notice the mess on her leg and hands. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He reached out and grabbed the smear on her shin and it simply sank back into his arm, then he gently grabbed her hands, and she felt the muck pull itself off of her skin.

“It’s alright,” She stood up, her left leg aching. “I’ll come back soon.”

He nodded, looking sheepish. His hands went back to fidgeting.

“Hey,” she put her hand on top of his and they stilled. “As soon as I can.”

“Okay,” the tiniest quirk of his mouth. “See you soon.”

She smiled, and she tried to let all of the warmth she felt beam out of her, tried to let it say all of the things she didn’t think she should.

“I’ll see you soon.”

She took her hand off of his, grabbed her bag, and walked to the door. Glancing back, she saw him sitting at the edge of the room, stare still locked onto her.

Schooling her features, she opened the door, and she walked out.

The group of scientists that went into the observation room with her had lost a few, whether they were gone or had simply taken a break she didn’t know. All of them looked just about as tired as she felt. God she was tired.

The blanket of exhaustion laying over them wasn’t enough to dim the spark of interest that was zipping between all of them it seemed. They all stared at her like she personally hung the moon in the sky. The one woman that had spoken out the last time had wide eyes, and looked like she was forcing her jaw shut. Regardless, she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, knuckles almost white on her clipboard.

“Mrs. Ayers?” She turned away to look at Andrew, a barely visible crease between his eyebrows, “Are you alright? You aren’t harmed?”

“No, no not at all. I’m perfectly fine, if a little tired.”

The woman, Johnson, she thought her name was, started scribbling on her clipboard. She turned to her, an eyebrow raised.

“What are you taking notes on?”

She jumped, not expecting to be talked to.

“I uh, just that,” Her eyes flicked behind Susan and back. “Just that contact with the- with 1322 seems to have caused no injury.”

Numerous questions sped through her mind. She picked one.

“1322?”

“It’s his number.”

Susan felt her eyes narrow. She opened her mouth to speak-

“It’s simply an assigned number to make things easier,” Andrew cut in. “Seeing as referring to him by name seemed to upset him further.”

She nodded, good enough she guessed. But something still poked at her brain. Why was the number so high?

“What other notes do you have?” She was curious, despite her suspicions.

“I’m not sure I’m-” Wide-eyed she looked to Andrew for approval. “It’s just short notations on reactions to your proximity, both expected and unexpected, such as 1322’s docility in your presence. It is very far from what we’ve come to expect, and willing physical contact is extremely unanticipated.”

Her eyes flitted around the room, not resting on anything.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Andrew opened the door to lead them out. “We have to review and Mrs. Ayers has to be heading out.”

They slowly ambled out of the room, and as Susan moved to follow she looked back in the window. He was in the corner again, and he looked miserable. Her heart twinged. She wished she could go talk to him again.

Going through both doors, Andrew led her through the halls back towards the lobby. The elevator ride up was just as loud as before.

“You need to be careful.” She glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, not looking at her. “The lift covers my voice, don’t speak once it stops. You need to watch what you say and who you say it to. Things here, a lot of them, aren’t what they seem. Don’t mess around, you seem nice, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Susan kept her eyes in front of her, her teeth worrying her lip.

“My son… Is he the only one to have something like this happen to him?”

The elevator shook.

“No.”

Her eyes squeezed closed.

“How many?”

“Too many. His assigned number was not random.”

She felt like she was going to throw up.

The elevator stopped with a high-pitched screech of metal. Andrew opened the gate, and led her out.

George was home by the time she got back, sitting at the kitchen counter. He got up as soon as she walked in and helped her sit on the couch, his eyes searching her face.

“How was it?”

She sighed heavily and started taking her prosthetic off, “Better than I expected it to be.”

“And? Did anything happen?”

She chuckled, “Understatement of the year.”

He raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to continue.

“How much detail do you want?”

“As much as you can give me.”

She smiled as he moved to sit next to her.

“He didn’t react badly when I walked in, he actually waved back at me when I waved to him! He sat close to me, he asked me why I kept coming back. I… I didn’t know what to say.” She looked down at her hands. “How was I supposed to tell him that he’s my son, that I love him more than the earth, when he didn’t even know who I was? I told him that he was important to me but it didn’t feel like enough. It wasn’t enough.”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“You know that old book I’ve been putting off reading for years?”

“The paperback crammed into the back of your shelf?”

“Yeah, that one. I brought it with me, figured it would be better than drawing. George-” She grabbed his hands and looked in his eyes, “He asked me to read to him. He sat there and listened as I read the book.”

George smiled. “That’s wonderful Sue. I’m glad it went well this time.”

“Yeah,” She looked away. “Yeah it did.”

“Did something else happen?”

She worked her jaw.

“When I tried to leave he panicked. He didn’t want me to go, he looked so scared. I’m worried about him.” she felt her eyes well up and blinked it away, “He started melting , George . I held his face in my hands and it went right through my fingers.” She hiccuped, her eyes running.

“Oh honey,” He pulled her into a hug, “I’m so sorry.”

“He calmed down after I promised to come back, and, “ She pulled away. “It was him, George. He looked at me and it was Jackie, I know it. It was our boy.”

He smiled softly and kissed her forehead.

“Our boy.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Was there anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so-” She froze.

“What is it?”

“You remember the man that took us to his room?”

He nodded.

“When we were on the elevator, he told me he could talk to me because it was loud. He said to be careful, that he didn’t want me to get hurt. ” She saw the concern set on his face. “And the number, on the front of that door, they used it like it was Jackie’s name. When I asked if Jack was the only kid like this he said- He said that the number was how many there were.”

She felt sick.

“There are, maybe hundreds , of other kids there. Kids that they’ve done this to.” She gripped his hands.

“What’s going on in that place George?”

Chapter Text

Susan woke up knowing the day before even looking at the calendar. Another morning, another visit, another time to see her son. The date had fallen on the weekend, both her and George would be going to Playtime. She hoped he would fare better with Jack than she did. She just wanted him to be happy again. To be comfortable in their presence. She slipped out of bed, George already up and moving.

“What should I do? Should I even do something?”

He was pacing as Susan got herself ready, anxiety lacing his voice. They had talked the day before about him going in that time. They wanted to alternate where they could, to give them both the chances to see him, though most would fall on days where George couldn’t.

“I don’t think you have to do anything at all. Just be there,” she consoled.

“And if he doesn’t want me there?” He paused. “He’s seen you three times now, and he hasn’t seen me in five months. I just have the feeling he might not take as kindly to me as he did to you.”

“You’ll be fine, I doubt he’ll react badly. And if he tells you to leave you can,” She shrugged. “no harm done.”

George put his hands over his face and took a visible breath.

“Okay, yeah, okay.”

The time afterward passed in relative quiet, the two moving around each other in tandem to do what they needed, grabbing things and passing them to each other and moving between rooms.

She put her notebook in her bag. If she wasn’t going to be in the room then the noise couldn’t bother him, couldn’t set him off.

“Stick this in there for me?” George asked, handing her a puzzle book, sudokus and crosswords overlapping on the cover. She raised an eyebrow at it.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

He smiled, holding up a pen.

“It’s not as loud as a pencil, nothing bad should happen.”

He passed her the pen and she tucked both into her bag. “Should we get going?”

The receptionist took one look at them as they walked through the doors of the building before turning to her computer. Just as they reached the desk, before they could say anything, she was speaking.

“I already checked you in, you can go have a seat.”

Susan glanced at George who shrugged in response, before waking over to the line of chairs.

“Do I even try to talk to him?”

“I think you should wait for him to come to you, if he does.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “”It’ll be fine.”

The slight squeak of a door opening sounded from across the room, Andrew stepping out of it.

“That’s us,” She said, standing up and walking over, George behind her.

“Mrs. Ayers, Mr. Ayers,” Andrew said as they neared.

Susan nodded.

“Andrew.”

“Follow me please.”

Their steps echoed on the tiles as they walked together. Susan looked at the room doors they walked past from the corner of her eye. They were unlabeled, no indication of what they were for.

She looked straight ahead for most of the rest of the walk, through the hall and down the elevator and off. But as they went further in, the rooms started gaining the occasional number. She noticed some had multiple cards, held in slots where they could be slid out and traded.

Were those children? Were there other children in those rooms at that moment? Did they ever get to see their parents? Something told her that no, they didn’t. No, they wouldn’t. No, not ever again.

They reached the t-split in the hall. The “wrong” way, the way they weren’t going, wasn’t silent. It was quiet, but there was noise coming from deep inside. It was there. She could hear it. She couldn’t hear it, not really. She just knew. She just knew.

They turned the other way. She turned the other away. She turned away from them.

She kept walking.

Eventually, after what felt like far too long they reached the door. It only had one number on the front. It wasn’t removable.

Permanent.

Andrew unlocked it and pushed it open. She went inside.

Another batch of people were patiently waiting inside. Familiar faces growing more so and unfamiliar ones becoming less. She noticed the one woman, Johnson, was still in the group, though she avoided looking directly at them.

As Andrew began to move through the room with George, Susan caught her eye and inclined her head at her, before turning to follow her husband.

She looked through the window as soon as she passed through the door. She didn’t know what else she expected when he was in the exact same spot as every other time. Her eyebrows creased when she noticed that he looked almost half-formed, his body spreading further across the floor, separate limbs far less defined against his body than they should be. The stupid little hat from the toy sat atop what she could only assume was his head and when she saw his face he looked… exhausted. Stress and emotions she didn’t know the source of a weight across his features.

She turned to George, wondering, hoping, praying he would notice as she did, but he was looking at Andrew as he asked almost offhandedly who would be going in that day.

“I am” He said.

“Alright then, if you would come over here then please.”

George walked over as he opened the door, and through, not turning back as it closed behind him.

And Susan wished, selfishly , that she was going in there instead.

Anxiety curled itself in George’s gut as he walked into the practically empty room. It would be fine, he wouldn’t do anything. George could leave whenever he wanted.

It could very easily not be fine.

The door shut, and the thing in the corner, it- he, moved, the puddle of viscous material surrounding himself pulling into his body, reforming his limbs as his head lifted.

George could almost say he looked almost happy, before his gaze locked onto him, still standing near the door, and his face fell completely. He looked at George with something close to disappointment.

George slowly moved to sit down, his eyes never leaving Jack’s and the other doing the same. They stayed like that for what felt like agonizingly long, the twisting in his abdomen getting worse as  he just stared. Why did he keep staring?

He felt like he was doing it wrong, whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing.

The silence stretched on longer and longer until George decided he should say something to break the tension.

“I uh, know you weren’t expecting me.” Nothing. “You were probably expecting my wife, Susan.” A blank look. “The woman who comes in here to see you, the one who read to you.”

His face lightened, his eyebrows lifting as he no longer seemed to be trying to make George go away just by looking at him.

“You would probably rather see her but, both of us- I, want to see you, to spend time with you, so I’ll be visiting sometimes too.” His face relaxed into something more neutral. “I- yeah.” He finished off awkwardly, breaking eye contact.

Silence fell once more as he felt less like his soul was being stared into. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his puzzle book, having grabbed it from Susan’s bag earlier. Pulling the cap off of the pen with his teeth, he went to work on a sudoku that had been giving him trouble.

After working on it for a couple minutes he was close to getting it, he could tell.

A noise caught his attention and he looked up to see it- him with its neck stretched out closer to him. Noticing George looking at him he pulled his head back and crossed his arms, looking away. George went back to his puzzle, noticing his head nearing once more after a few minutes. It hovered close by but not near at all for a time, and George worked. He was fairly sure he got some wrong, but where was the fun in being perfect?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw him tilt his head at the book, only for the hat on top of his head to slip and fall off. If he had blood in his body George was sure he would have gone stark white as his arm shot forward to catch it before it could touch the floor.

He put it back on top of his head and pressed it down, making sure it would stay, as he pulled back into himself just as fast. He curled his arms around himself, almost hiding his face as he pressed his fingers into his arms, gaze never leaving the barely noticeable camera in the corner. Something was wrong.

He looked scared.

George knew he couldn’t help, he wasn’t Susan, was never as good with Jack as she was. As much as he wanted to, he knew it would do nothing good. He knew when to take his leave.

Closing his book and putting it and his pen back in his jacket he stood up with a groan and turned to leave the room. Before he reached the door he looked back at Jack and paused, looking for something to say.

“It was nice sitting with you.” His face barely turned to look at him.. He didn’t know what to say. Why was he so bad at this? “I’ll see you again before you know it.”

The door clicked open.

Andrew offered a chair for Susan to sit on after he closed the door behind George, which she took gladly. Any amount of ache in her leg she could put off she would happily do so.

The scientists stood around her, disorganized, as they all looked through the window. It was strange, being on the other side of the glass watching someone else go in there. She saw him pull himself together, saw him turn to George, and she could almost say he looked excited, before his whole demeanor fell as he realized who was in there. As he realized it wasn’t her in there .

She pulled out her sketchbook and started to draw, wanting to get every detail, only halfway hearing George talking to him. As she focused on her pencil, on the way it moved across the paper as her eyes flitted between it and her son, she noticed the people around her, the ones with the clipboards, were almost furiously taking notes, the scratching of their pencils slowly but oh so quickly becoming incessant. She did her best to ignore it.

She could see why it bothered him.

Looking back through the window she saw George writing in his book, Jackie stretched closer to get a better look. She flipped the page.

She turned to one of the people next to her, one that wasn’t writing things down.

“What is he normally like?’ He startled and turned to look at her. “When people are in there with him, that is.”

He worked his jaw for a second.

“Normally, 1322 is far less… accepting, of others being in his space. He doesn’t do well with my colleagues, though he is surprisingly adept at interacting with the- with others. Frankly, what you, and it seems your husband too, have been able to bring out of him is nothing but extraordinary.”

“Hm.”

She turned back to the room.

He was closer to George now, watching him work in his book. He leaned in slightly closer and- she almost missed it, it happened so fast. His hat -where did that come from? How long had it been there?- slipped from his head and he grabbed it midair, shrinking back into the corner as he put it back on. He covered his face with his arms, his eyes looking up at the opposite side of the room where she couldn’t see. He looked terrified .

She saw George get up and start moving towards the door. She stood from her chair to meet him as Andrew opened it.

And as he walked through, her son’s gaze followed him. She turned to look at him and her eyes met his almost vacant look. His eyes widened as he saw her, his arms unwrapping. She took a step forward.

He lifted his arms towards her.

The door closed.

The walk back was quieter than the walk there. It felt too still, the air fragile.

The elevator was the exact opposite. It felt like the noise was trying to grind its way into her bones. She glanced at Andrew.

“So,” He stared straight ahead. “Do you have a family? Wife or kids?”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“No, it’s just me and my parents. I visit them when I can but, other than that, just me and my cat.”

She felt a smile pull at the side of her mouth.

“Jackie always wanted a cat. The amount of times he begged.” She chuckled. “We never could though.”

“Why not?”

“George,” She gestured to her husband. “Is allergic. It would have made life that much harder… as happy as it would have made Jack.”

The elevator slowed and stuttered to a stop.

Andrew opened the gate.

They went home.

“The hat was new.”

They were making dinner.

“Yeah, I wonder why they gave it to him. Why would they even have a toy hat that big?”

He shrugged.

“They could have made it?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Why would they try to make him look more like that mascot toy? And when he almost dropped it… George why was he so scared about dropping a hat?”

He moved to the sink.

“I don't know Sue. It wasn’t a normal reaction, that's for sure.”

She stepped over to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“He’s going through something. They’re putting him through something. I’m going to get him out of there."

She set her shoulders.

"I have to”

Chapter Text

She didn't want to get up.

She had been lying awake for… she didn't know how long. Too long. She could feel the bags under her eyes as she sat up, rubbing at them with her knuckles.

She hadn't been sleeping well, her mind preoccupied with her son. She had spent too many hours into too many long nights trying to think of some way to bring him back to her. To save him. George stayed up with her sometimes, listening to her talk, much to her chagrin. She always felt guilty, keeping him up, but he wouldn't go to sleep without her, wouldn't let her stew in her restless thoughts by herself.

Slipping out of bed without waking him, she went through the motions to put her prosthetic on despite it bothering her leg so early in the morning, and padded softly down the hall and into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker. God knew she needed it today. Glancing at the calendar, she saw the mark she put around the date. She wanted to see him, more than anything, but she was tired. The toll of anxiety nestling itself into the crook of her ribs and in the space behind her eyes. She felt like it would seep out of her, her eyes and her skin not enough to hold it inside, to hold her together.

She inhaled deeply, pressing her fingers into the creases lining her eyes, and moved closer to the calendar. They had pinned the pages sent by Playtime next to their kitchen calendar, an extra assurance that they wouldn't miss a day. She looked to that one, eyes searching for the correct number, before she found it. It was highlighted, the square containing a delicate “visitor's day” written in pen, same as the other days. But something was… off, about it. She leaned forward, comparing it to the others. The handwriting didn't match, the marks too sharp, and the color was wrong, like it was filled in with a different marker.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and stood up. It was too early. She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee, nursing it between her hands. Glancing at the clock, she had some time before George woke up.

Slowly, she made her way to the stairs, taking them one at a time. She pushed Jack's door open, a soft creak coming from the hinges as she walked through. Setting her mug on the dresser, she lowered herself onto the bed, the mattress sinking in. She glanced to the side, to that toy laid softly against his pillows, stared at its empty eyes, at all of the features that were wrong about it. That were different from how her son now was . She picked it up, setting it down to lean against her side, and sipped at her coffee, the warmth seeping into her fingers.

She stared at the window, stared at the dark sky that had not yet begun to light with dawn.

She stared into the outside, the toy against her side a comfort to her heart and a knife between her ribs.

She sipped at her coffee.

She breathed.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In-

A creak below her.

Out.

She stood, lifting the toy in one hand and her mug in the other. Carefully, gently, she set the toy back against the pillow. Her fingers hesitated pulling back.

Leaning forward, she gingerly pressed a kiss to the top of it.

Turning away, she left the room, closing the door and going down the stairs. She went to the living room, rounding the arm of the couch and settling into the cushions.

Minutes later, she heard George's footsteps coming down the hall, pausing as they passed the threshold.

“Susan,” He walked around the couch. “How long have you been up?”

“I don't know.” She lifted the mug to her lips. “A while.”

A frown found its way onto his face.

“You should be sleeping more.”

She continued staring into the space in front of her.

“I made coffee.”

He sighed, reaching out and brushing stray hair from her face.

“Don't try to distract me. This isn't good for you.”

“I'm fine, George.”

“I want you to be more than fine.”

She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning to the side, into his chest.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“Once I get him out. Once I have him home. Then everything will be so much better than fine. Then everything will be perfect.”

He pressed his face into the top of her hair, taking her mug from her hands and setting it on the coffee table to wrap his arms around her.

“I know dear. I know.”

She let him hold her, not knowing if she was doing it for his comfort or hers.

Eventually, she sat back up, his arms pulling back, and ran her hands through her hair, trying to wake herself up further. The coffee wasn’t doing nearly enough.

“Come on,” she said, standing and offering him a hand. “We have to get ready.”

“I think I should be the one helping you up.” He smiled, accepting the hand. “Do you need me with you today? I could probably get away with taking the day off.”

“No George, I’m okay.” She walked to the kitchen, refilling her mug as he grabbed one for himself from the cupboard. She pressed her hands into her eyes again, willing away the fatigue that had coiled itself inside her skull.

“Anne called yesterday.” She fished, changing the topic.

“Did she?”

“Mhmm, she and Nicole want me to go out for lunch with them.”

“That’s great Sue, it would be a good distraction, something for you to get out of the house.”

She turned around to lean back against the countertop.

“I don’t know if I’m going to.”

“What? Why not?”

“I need to think. I need the time to concentrate on a plan, on something. ”

“All you’ve been doing is thinking. You need a break.”

“I can’t afford a break. I-”

“Susan.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re exhausted, you’ve been running on fumes. Less than fumes.. My work trip for next week is going ahead, it wouldn’t be good for you to be alone by yourself in the house for so long. Would you see them then, please?”

She looked away, stare turning down to the kitchen tiles.

“Hey,” He set his mug down, moving in front of her and meeting her eyes. “Please? For me?” He brushed her hand, holding it in his. “For yourself?”

She sighed.

“Alright, yeah… Yeah. It’s been a while.”

It had been. The stab of shame each time they saw her in her wheelchair, each time she saw the look in their eyes, caused her to retreat away from them. She didn’t mean to, she didn’t . She just couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t deal with the pity, couldn’t deal with everybody treating her like she was made of glass, like she would shatter if they touched her too hard, talked too loud, looked at her wrong.

She missed them.

“Thank you.” A smile pulled at his mouth. “I should really be getting ready for work.”

“Right, yeah.” She finished the last of her coffee, setting the mug in the sink. “Let’s go.”

She went through the motions, only half paying attention to what she was doing. Shower, dry off, get dressed, put on makeup, wait.

Wait.

Wait.

“I have to head out now.” George’s voice broke her out of her detachment. She walked over to where he was standing at the door.

“Have a good day,” He said, giving her a kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have a good day.”

She stood in the door to watch him drive away, before closing it and moving to sit down on the couch. Picking up the remote and turning the tv on, she flipped through the channels for a distraction. She paused, the screen turning to an ad and she scoffed, flipping it away. The ads for that pizza place always weirded her out, it wasn’t like she could make it to Utah anyway.

Eventually, she decided she had stalled for long enough, and turned off the show she hadn’t bothered paying attention to the name of.

Standing, she covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath, before dropping them and grabbing her bag to swing onto her shoulder.

Keys in hand, she left her house, and drove to see her son.

She felt the small amount of sleep she got drain out of her body as she walked through the doors. Ignoring the fatigue settling in her bones, she went up to the desk, the receptionist glancing up at her and back to her computer. She stood there for a moment, waiting, before she turned back from her computer.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have an appointment for today.”

“What?”

“You aren’t in the system for today. I’m sorry, you can’t go farther in.”

Confusion creeped its way onto her face. How could they make and send her a schedule and not even put it into their own calendars correctly?

“But-”

The side door swung open, both of them whipping their heads around to look at it in surprise, as Andrew almost fell through, looking frazzled. He straightened and fixed his hair, taking deep breaths as he walked towards them.

“Hey Howells,” he jogged forward.

“Mata,” she nodded at him. “I can talk to you in a minute.”

“About that,” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m here for her.”

“She’s not in the system for today, how did you know she was here? I didn’t even call for you.”

“There was a change of days, Mrs. Ayers was informed. It’s strange the calendar wasn’t updated.”

“Hm,” She shrugged. “Yeah, let me just input the change and check her in-”

“Oh it’s fine,” He interrupted. “I can do it later, it was probably my fault anyway.”

“…If you say so. Make sure you get it done before the end of the day.”

“You got it,” He laughed awkwardly, turning to Susan. “Would you like to go Mrs. Ayers?”

“Yes, let’s.”

She didn’t say anything as they went down the hallway, a slight mismatch in the rhythm of her gait. She focused on ignoring it.

The gate of the elevator creaked as it opened and shut, the grinding of metal growing louder as it started its descent.

She waited a minute before turning to him with a raised eyebrow, question written across her face. 

He opened and closed his mouth once, twice, before finding what he wanted to say.

“You weren't supposed to come today, not actually.” She waited for him to continue. “But, I thought you should. I thought you should be here to see what happens when you're not coming to be with him.”

“Won’t they find out?”

“Not if I can help it. I filled in the date manually just before your schedule was mailed to you, and I’m not going to put your attendance into the system. Nobody should know.”

“That’s all well and good, but-” She gestured lightly to herself. “-I’m not exactly easy to miss. Everyone here wears the same thing”

The elevator ground to a stop.

“Come on,” he opened the gate. “We should be going.”

They followed the increasingly familiar route for a while, before turning off at a smaller side passageway. The miscellaneous doors increased in number, the designation cards turning to actual room names. Andrew kept his gaze on them, seemingly counting as his eyes jumped from one to the next.

Finally, he stopped at one, opening it and dipping inside. It could barely be called a “room”, too small to be anything other than a large closet. He searched through clothes on hangers before slipping a white coat off and draping it over his arm. Turning to a drawer, he rummaged through its contents and pulled out a pair of glasses and a small bag of hair elastics.

“Here, put these on.” He said softly, handing them to her. “The cameras down this way tend to be buggy, if we’re quiet and move quickly we shouldn’t be noticed.

“Are you sure this will work?” She questioned, slipping her arms into the coat’s sleeves.

“People cycle through placements often, nobody should even look at you.”

“Alright.” She scrutinized the glasses. “Why do you need so many of these?”

“Technically they’re safety glasses, but some of them look close enough to prescription that no one should question it.”

She nodded, gathering her hair and twisting an elastic into it.

“Is that it?”

“I think so, what else would you- ah, one second,” He turned back into the room and pulled out a storage bin, taking a clipboard out of it, a pen hooked onto the edge, and passed it to her. “Here, you don’t have to write on it, just having it should be enough.”

She took it from his hand, tucking it under her arm as he closed the door. They backtracked to the main hallway and resumed their path. She tried to hide the shift in her gait, hide the way she couldn’t quite walk the same way she used to.

She felt anxiety creep further up her spine with every step she took. She wasn’t supposed to be here, it felt wrong.They reached a split and turned, a thought crossing her mind.

“What’s down there? The other hallway?” She said under her breath, barely audible.

“It’s… worse. Much worse. The children kept over there-” He shook his head lightly. “The conditions are, horrible .”

“And there's nothing anybody can do?”

“No. The higher ups don't like it when their workers have empathy . Anyone who's too loud, speaks up too often, is removed, one way or another. Some people here do care, hopefully more than I know, but sometimes someone will act friendly, will pretend. Once you let them know that you care , they tell the heads that you're planning something, and then you're gone.”

“That's… I'm sorry.”

She didn't get a response.

They walked the rest of the way without speaking, the atmosphere feeling like a blanket hanging over them.

Finally reaching the door, Andrew unlocked it and held it open for her, before going through it himself. There was no one else in the room. No one waiting, watching, expecting.

They moved to the other door.

There was another group of people already gathered. They seemed to perk up as they entered, most looking to Andrew, a few glancing at Susan before turning away. She slipped herself into the crowd, keeping her head tilted down like she was reading something on her clipboard.

“Let's get started.”

At his words, the group turned almost in unison towards the window. Susan saw her son inside, saw him awake, sitting in the corner and looking at the door with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

A man stepped forward away from the others, towards a counter inset in the wall, sitting below the window. He pulled a small microphone closer to himself and leaned forward.

“Experiment 1322, Designation: Doey, indicate response.”

Experiment? They called him experiment?! Susan fought to keep her expression neutral. She'd show him an experiment with his spleen if she had her way.

Inside the room, Jack- Doey, they called him doey. The very thing that took him and changed him, the very thing they made him into turned to the window, turned to her , He couldn't see her. He couldn't see through the one-way. He couldn't , and snarled , red teeth filling his mouth.

The man at the microphone looked to Andrew, face questioning.

“It's good enough. Despite being negative, it is still a response.”

The man nodded.

“1322, Designation: Doey, remain in place.”

A pair stepped out, walking to the side of the room where two crates sat. Susan hadn’t noticed them before.

One opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of gloves, slipping them onto their hands while the other bent down, unlocking the front of one crate. The person with gloves reached into it to pull something out. It was a white unicorn plushie with teal mane and tail and oh god it was moving . Squirming in the scientist’s grip, it kicked and flailed as it was held up by the back of its neck like a kitten. The other quickly wrapped something around its neck and clicked it together, the thing falling down the plush’s back, and was clipped around its waist and legs, looking like a dog harness.

As soon as the harness was attached the plush went limp in its hold. The scientist holding it moved towards the door, and hung it on a hook in the wall like it was an old coat. It hung there unmoving, but for the slight trembling of its limbs.

Turning back, they moved to where the other scientist had unlocked the second crate and reached in, pulling out a red teddy bear. It wiggled less in its hold than the other, stubby arms lifting up to scrabble at the scientist’s hand on its neck. The other person moved quickly, making easy work of snapping the harness onto it. It immediately dropped its arms from the scientist’s hand and wrapped them around its middle.

Still holding the red plush, they turned toward Andrew, waiting for his go ahead.

“Proceed.”

The first scientist walked over to the door as the second grabbed the unicorn plush in their other hand. As soon as it was opened, they tossed both plushies into the room, the door closing quickly behind them. Susan held back a flinch as they hit the ground, practically bouncing.

Jack’s face flipped from hostility to almost worry in a blink. He uncrossed his arms and watched as they slowly sat up and shuffled closer to each other, before looking to the door and glaring.

He stayed where he was.

The man at the counter leaned into the microphone again as the other two scientists moved back into the group.

“1322, Designation: Doey, interact.”

Almost immediately he went forward, seeming to nearly flow across the floor with the way he moved his limbs, stopping in front of the two. He leaned close to them and, Susan saw his mouth move but no sound came from the speakers, whatever he was saying too quiet to be picked up in the room.

“1322, Designation: Doey, the purpose of today is for 1139 and 1227 to remain in adequate condition. Failure to meet the desired outcome will result in further consequences. Complete this objective without hesitation or delay.”

The man leaned back from the microphone and reached over to press a button on a panel full of them, a barely noticeable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Susan hated it. She thought she might hate him.

She felt like she might have hated all of them.

In the room, a beep sounded as a red light blinked from the back of the unicorn’s harness. It reached its arms back, looking like it was trying to grab at it, before it jerked away, falling to the floor as it writhed. Jackie hovered his hands over its thrashing body, looking unsure of what to do, or uncomfortable with what he thought he had to do. The bear patted his arm, surprising him, and gave a nod.

Carefully, he reached down and grabbed the back of the unicorn's harness, before slowly reaching for the bear’s, his face pulling down at the edges in an almost cartoonish look of sadness. As soon as his hand made contact with it, the bear stiffened, limbs going ramrod straight, and the unicorn’s convulsions lightened, their reactions evening out.

It went on for too long, Jack’s face growing more despondent as the minutes passed, before the man at the panel leaned to press another button. A second beep came from the unicorn’s harness as both plushies fell limp in her son’s hold. He turned his hands around so that they were laying on top of them, tiny chests moving up and down in stuttered breaths, and pulled them slightly closer to himself.

“1322, Designation: Doey, release.”

He froze, emotions cycling across his face, before he slowly lowered the smaller bodies onto the floor, mouth full of teeth and furrowed glare fixed on the one-way glass.

Moments passed in silence as multiple people around her wrote on their clipboards, the two plushies slowly roused, pushing themselves off of the floor.

Jack avoided touching them.

The man turned to Andrew, waiting.

“One moment.” He looked into the room, watching until they were standing, albeit unsteadily. “You may proceed.”

The man grabbed a dial and twisted it, stopping its turn at a specific point.

The harnesses’ lights blinked. Long, too long minutes of waiting passed, and through the glass she saw the two smaller ones begin to shiver, tremors progressively overtaking their limbs.

Jack stretched his hand out to lightly touch the bear’s harness, and jerked his hand back with a hiss. He flexed his fingers, the movements slow. He looked up at the door, then back to the pair before him, their forms sagging, the unicorn sitting, almost falling, down. Mouth pressing into a line, he reached forward again with both arms and, visibly stealing himself, grabbed both smaller bodies and pulled them closer, hands fully wrapping around them. His eyes squeezed shut as his face contorted into a pained grimace.

Moments passed as they seemed to relax in his hold. Susan didn’t know if that meant they were doing better or if they were passing out. She didn’t know which would be worse.

Time moved agonizingly long as his expression squeezed tighter, mouth widening with grit teeth as his arms seemed to dry out, cracks forming and spreading across them. A dusting of white formed where his hands interlocked, holding the pair closer together, and began to creep further outwards. Why did they do this? What were they even trying to learn? Why did they have to hurt ?

The coating of frost had just barely made it to his shoulders when Andrew spoke up.

“That’s enough.”

The man at the counter grabbed the dial and turned it back around.

Inside the room, Jack’s whole face went slack and he breathed in shakily, the frost disappearing quickly and dripping down his arms. His hands unclasped, pulling apart sluggishly and falling to the floor limp, fingers flexing in slow twitches. They hung awkwardly, solid in some spots and melting to the floor in others, texture lumpy and indistinct.

The unicorn stood rubbing its arms as the bear sat on the floor, arms wrapped around its knees.

The man once again waited for Andrew to give the okay for another sadistic “test”

“1139 is lasting unexpectedly long, wouldn’t you say?” Susan startled as the person next to her spoke, head half turned in her direction.

She fumbled for words, trying not to let her rising panic bubble out of her mouth.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.” The man’s expression turned curious. “I haven’t observed 1322 before today.”

The words felt like ash in her mouth. They tasted like bile. She wanted to run away, to get out of the room that was slowly closing in on her.

“Hmm,” his eyebrows furrowed. “I could’ve sworn I’d seen you before.”

Susan just stared, the smallest shrug of her shoulders her only response. She tried frantically to think of something to say.

“What makes-” Number number what was the number what did he say? “-1139 special?”

He turned to look at her more directly.

“Well, typically when testing 1322 with critters, we cycle through them pretty fast. We take whichever are closest and not being used at the moment and put them in there. Sure some make it one or two testings before being moved or needing to be… disposed of, but 1139? It’s been through sixteen testings . This will be its seventeenth.” His eyes widened in, Susan could almost call it wonder, if it wasn't for the source of his amazement. “I think they keep putting it in there at this point as a secondary test to see when it will finally give in to the physical trauma. It’s much more resilient than the others I’ll give it that. It’s also one of our older critters, we don’t have many of them from the 11’s left.”

“That’s-” Awful horrible disgusting atrocious . “-incredible. What they can go through and still survive never fails to amaze me.” Her eyes drifted to the window, drifted to where her son was standing, arms held protectively to his body. It really was amazing.

“And the boys down in the labs are getting better at it by the day.”

Susan’s smile strained as her blood felt cold. Every day? She didn’t want to think about it.

“What about the other one?” 

“1227?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s new. This is its first test. Some of the others don’t think it’ll make it, I’m not sure either, but it’s nice to think that it’s strong enough to push through. That all of them are.”

The sentiment sounded nice, the strength to push through hell and keep going. But… but they wouldn’t have to go through hell if Playtime Co. never threw them down the pit in the first place, if they didn’t keep watch at the edge to drive down any who got too close to the top, to escape.

She didn’t respond.

Her attention was drawn back to the room as Andrew gave the man at the controls permission to proceed. Leaning across the board, he pressed a button, before lifting open a clear protector next to it and flipping the switch underneath, causing an audible shifting to come from the other room.

A low hiss sounded as slowly the room began to grow red, a mist hanging at the bottom of it with swirls of black weaving their way throughout, thickening as it spread upward.

The two “critters” as the man had called them began to cough, lightly at first before growing into full blown fits. Jackie looked around the room, trying to find where the mist was coming from to stop it.

The unicorn fell.

He carefully picked it up to hold in his hand. He kept looking. The bear wavered and he caught it before it fell. He couldn’t find anything. There was nothing. Just the clogging black redness they continued to breathe in.

…

…

…

They were breathing it in.

He stared at them, unwavering, as they began to slow in their movements. He held both in one hand and hovered the other over them. Slowly, and quickly, and gently, he put his hand over their faces, covering their noses and mouths. They both seemed to jolt awake as their breathing was cut off entirely, squirming in his unyielding grip to get air again, even if the air itself was killing them. His face twisted with regret even as he held his hand in place. Slowly, too slowly, their movements lost their fervor, limbs barely lifting before falling down again.

He turned to look at the window, to look through to the scientists on the other side, to the people he couldn’t see, to the mother he didn’t know he had, didn’t know was watching, expression pleading . He looked at the pair in his hands, movements almost nonexistent, and back up. Back and forth he moved his gaze, caught between seeing how long the small ones could last, and imploring the unseeing glass for their mercy, and twisting to see if maybe he could block the mist. His cycling gradually grew increasingly frantic as they went fully limp in his hands, eyes settling on the door and, brow furrowed, he took a step forward.

“Cease testing.” Andrew’s voice laid relief onto her bones. “Stop the smoke and vent the room.”

The man quickly flipped the switch off and recovered it, pressing multiple buttons next to it. A loud rushing filled the room as the haze was sucked out through unseen vents.

Jackie immediately pulled his hand off of the critters faces and readjusted his hold, almost cradling them, staring as if will alone would make them wake up. Every person in the smaller room watched, those with pens held them ready to make notes on anything.

The stillness was broken by the unicorn gasping awake, trying to sit up and immediately falling back down, the bear waking up slower next to it. He sighed in relief, practically wilting as he pulled them slightly closer, the bear patting his hand comfortingly.

“It seems to care about them. All of them.” The person next to her was speaking again. “No matter how many tests we’ve done, 1322 always seems… happy . Not simply happy that they made it through the test, but genuinely glad that the specific toys we’ve put in there with it are, relatively, okay. And when they don’t make it… Well, I’d think the reactions would have dulled by this point, but it continues to surprise me.”

“That’s interesting.” Susan replied. She didn’t want to hit him over the head with a bat, or personally introduce him to the feeling of becoming an amputee, or any other lovely thought that passed through her mind. Not one bit.

“1322, Designation: Doey, release.”

On second thought, she might have someone else to go for first.

Through the window she saw him look in their direction, unwillingness to let the pair go written plainly across his features. He held them closer.

He hesitated.

“1322, Designation: Doey, release. ”

Slowly, dismally, he lowered them to the floor, steadying the bear when it wobbled unsteadily. The unicorn tucked itself next to his leg as the bear held its hand reassuringly.

“1139-Bobby Bearhug, 1227-Craftycorn, return to the door. Any hesitance will be punished.”

The bear- bearhug? bobby? -pulled the craftycorn forward, trying to bring it out as it froze. Jack leaned down and whispered something to it, gently encouraging it forward, and the two walked back to the door. He watched them, face downturning, and stayed put.

The man at the counter turned back to look through the group, eyes passing over the people writing on their clipboards, and locked eyes with her.

He pointed.

“Grab 1139 and 1227 from the door and put them back in their crates, Morrison will help you.”

Her blood froze.

She didn’t- She couldn’t-

She turned, hands shaking, and gripped the clipboard harder in her hands, knuckles white.

“I can hold this for you.” The man next to her said, taking the clipboard, before his voice dropped into a whisper. “Put on the gloves, first drawer, and I can open the door. Just pick them up by the scruff like cats and I’ll do the rest.”

She nodded shakily and walked to the drawer, shoving away the limp in her walk and forcing down the tremors in her hands as she pulled it open, grabbing disposable gloves and putting them on. Turning to the door, she saw the man, Morrison, his name must be, standing next to it. She moved toward him, stopping in front of the doorway. She could do this. She could do this.

The door opened.

She lowered her head, hiding her face from her son, and looking at the small pair. They were tiny . Reaching down, she grabbed them by the backs of their necks, the skin? fabric? giving easily, as if it was made to do so, and lifted. They were heavier than she expected, weighing considerably more than even a weighted plush would, the bear dead weight, limp in her hold, and the unicorn very visibly forcing itself to relax, limbs twitching with the urge to struggle, to get out .

“I’m sorry,” she said, under her breath, unsure if she said it for their sake or hers.

She twisted, beginning to go back into the room, when she paused for a split second, a moment. She knew she shouldn’t, knew she couldn’t, knew she was risking every little step of progress she’d made.

She looked.

His eyes grew wide, taking up most of his face, his expression turning utterly despondent. His whole being seemed to wilt, sinking to the floor and spreading, turning viscous.

All in the space,

of a moment.

Of a look.

She turned away quickly, and the door shut behind her.

Without fully processing, without being able to force herself back into actuality, into the realness around her, she held the two still in her grip up in the air. Morrison unclipped their harnesses and she kneeled down in front of the crates, gently depositing them back inside.

She tried to force her eyes to refocus.

It wasn’t working.

She stood up as he closed and relocked them.

“That is all for 1322 today.” Andrew’s voice was far away. Or was she far away? She didn’t know.

The group filtered out of the room, a pair each grabbing a crate and carrying it out, a couple talking to each other. She gave Morrison a quiet “Thank you” as he passed her back her clipboard, he nodded as he walked past her.

She began to walk out behind Andrew, following him mindlessly. Giving the window one last look, she saw him, just barely a lump of puddle on the floor, a hat sitting on top. None of them had pointed it out, was this normal? Or was it her?

She didn’t say anything the whole walk away. Neither of them did.

Stepping onto the elevator, she took the glasses off and undid her hair, handing them to Andrew who held them as she took the coat off. She folded it in half and made to give it to him when he held his hand up.

“Put it in your bag, if you already have it then we won’t have to sneak it back onto you if you need to come in unnoticed again.”

She nodded, only half processing his words, and tucked it into a pocket, grabbing the glasses and slipping them inside with it. She stared blankly ahead.

“Mrs. Ayers?” his voice sounded woefully uncertain. “Are you alright?”

She waited, waited for the words to move through her brain, waited for them to decipher, detangle themselves in the knot that was her mind, waited for a response to appear to her fully formed.

Only a few of those happened, the few happened only partially.

“I-” Her throat caught. “I screwed up.”

Worry set into his face.

“How?”

“I kept my face where he couldn’t see it, but… just before I left the room, I looked. I looked, and he saw me, and he recognized me .

His eyebrows furrowed and he worked his jaw.

“I’m… sorry, Mrs. Ayers.”

She clenched her fists, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the stinging forming in the corners at bay.

She breathed in.

Out.

In.

Out.

In-

The lift shook.

Out.

She set her shoulders.

“It’s fine. I can fix it. I have to.” She turned to him. “How do I get him out?”

His eyes went wide and he blinked.

“I’m… not sure that you can.”

“I don’t care what I can and can’t do. I need to know how. ”

“I- You would have to get him out of his room first, and that in and of itself would be a feat. To get him out entirely? It would take a miracle.”

“Well then maybe I should start praying. Do you have any miracles for me?”

He went quiet for a moment.

“The red smoke. It can’t be compressed or it runs the risk of spontaneous combustion, so the vents for it are larger than the rest. If, you could somehow, get him out of his room, and to a vent for the smoke, he may be able to make it out.” She smiled before he held up his hand. “But that wouldn’t include getting you out. It’s far too risky.”

“It doesn’t matter if you think it’s too risky when I’m the one taking the risk.”

He grimaced.

“What about the others?”

“The others?”

“The other children. How would I get them out?”

He scoffed.

“Now that is impossible. Most of them are made small on purpose. To get them out they would all have to make it through the whole factory, and the whole factory would do its best to stop them. It would be a massacre on both sides.”

Her face twisted. She didn’t respond.

The weight of the past hours, of the restless nights and the sleep replaced by caffeine hit her at once as she walked through the front door of her home. George sat on the couch, waiting with the tv on. He stood, turning it off and reaching out to her with a light smile.

“Hey love, how was it?”

It was-

She didn’t-

Her face crumpled.

George rushed forward to catch her as she lowered to the floor, holding her shoulders as she buried her face in his shirt.

“Sue, oh dear what happened?”

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she tried to speak.

“I messed up George. I messed up bad. He doesn’t want to see me anymore, he won't want to see me anymore.”

“It’s alright, you’re alright, just breathe. What happened?”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there today, I pretended to be one of them. I watched . It was… horrible . I had to help them and-” She hiccupped, breath stuttering in. “He saw me. He saw me and he thinks I’m one of them and he must hate me now.”

He leaned back to cup his hand around her cheek.

“Hey now, come on, don’t say that. You don’t know that, not for sure.”

“But George he-”

“No, he might not. And you won’t know until you go see him, for real.”

“I-” She squeezed her eyes closed. “Okay, alright.”

“You’re doing great, I promise.” She opened her eyes to look at him. “Did anything else happen? You don’t have to tell me everything right now, not unless you want to.”

“I… I’m going to get him out. Soon. I don’t have a full plan, not yet, but I’m starting.”

Worry creased his face.

“Are you sure you should do this?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t know what else I could do.”

Reluctance spread across his features.

“If you’re sure that this is how you want to do this, then I’m with you. I’m going to worry, you know I will, but I’ll support you. I’ll help where I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now come sit on the couch, I’ll go grab your chair.”

Chapter Text

Heavy

Everything felt heavy

It took all of her strength to sit upright instead of continuing to lie on her bed.

She rubbed at her eyes.

Heavy

Turning her head, she reached for George’s shoulder and- Right. He was gone. She dropped her arm back onto the bed.

It was heavy.

She swung her leg over the side of the bed and eyed her prosthetic. She really didn’t want to deal with it. Carefully, she stood on her good leg, and maneuvered into her wheelchair, sitting down with a soft groan. Her bones felt like lead, her hands weights at the ends of her arms.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

She pushed herself out of the room and down the hall, onto the tiled kitchen floor. Turning on the coffee maker, she used the countertop to balance as she stood, her knee protesting slightly, and opened the cupboard to grab a mug. It set on the counter with a clack and she sat back down. She moved to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a creamer. It was sweeter than she generally liked, but she was tired, and she wanted sweet. She glanced at the calendar knowing what she would see, highlighter and pen, and went back to the coffee maker.

The drink was warm and eased the weight in her joints, her fingers relaxing gently.

She could stay home.

She didn’t have to go. What would one missed day be? He was probably angry at her anyway. He wouldn’t want to see her.

He wouldn’t notice.

Would he?

It was one day.

And he was alone.

She couldn’t leave him alone.

She was alone.

She didn’t know what they would do if she didn’t.

She inhaled, the smell of her drink settling into her sinuses, and breathed out, the air leaving slowly.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t leave him, couldn’t put him at risk knowing what they might do without her there. For all she knew her visits were his only moments of respite in that god-awful place. And if she was his only rest, his only comfort, then how could she call herself his mother if she took that away from him just because she wanted a day? She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure she could call herself his mother now. She’d failed him so many times. Too many times.

Sighing, she sipped at her coffee, looking at the sky and the top of the neighbor’s house through the kitchen window as she finished her drink. She set the mug in the sink, telling herself she’d wash it later, and pushed herself back to her room.

Attaching her prosthetic and changing, she put some amount of effort into her outfit despite the pull on her limbs telling her it didn’t matter. She had to look presentable, if not good, it didn’t matter how she felt.

Muscle memory kicked in as she sat down to do her makeup before she stopped. If she did it differently, anyone would be less likely to notice her coming back again. It was small, and likely wouldn’t matter in the end, but as she left the mascara untouched and pulled her eyeliner back just a smidge farther than normal, it eased her worries.

She went to the kitchen after she finished and made herself another cup of coffee, a little more caffeine couldn't hurt.

Sitting on the couch, she breathed, in, and out, doing her best to relax. It was fine. It would be fine.

It was fine.

Her eyes drifted to the side of the room, to the bookshelf full of her mismatched collection. They skimmed across the different books and series, passing over one spine in particular, and continuing on, repeatedly flicking back to it.

She huffed, squeezing her eyes shut, and stood, walking over to the bookshelf. She ran her finger over the words indented into the soft material. A bookmark stuck out of the top, just past halfway. Pulling it out of the alcove, she twisted on her heel and grabbed her bag from the coffee table, slipping it inside next to the coat.

She sat back down on the couch, nerves slowly winding, and stared at the wall, fingers tapping on her bouncing knee. It was much earlier than she had gone previous days. If he didn’t want her there, if he told her to leave, then she would be stuck alone for the entire rest of the day. But… if he didn’t, if he let her stay. Her fingers drummed on her knee, her eyes flitting to the clock and back. There was nothing wrong with going a little early, right?

Her fingers tapped.

In a sudden movement, she stood and grabbed her bag, swinging it onto her shoulder and snagging her keys from the table. It was fine.

She grabbed the door handle, pausing, and took a breath.

It was fine.

It would be fine.

Someone was talking to the receptionist when she walked in. A relatively animated conversation played out as she neared, only catching the tail end of it.

“-and I was like “No you can’t do that!” but of course that didn’t stop him.”

“I swear you have the worst luck with men, or the worst taste in them.” She looked briefly at Susan, noticing her. “I’ve got to take this, I’ll talk to you later Jason.”

“Yeah yeah, do your job.” He said, standing up from where he was leaning on the counter and going through the push gate further into the building.

“Mrs. Ayers.”

“I should have an appointment today,” Susan smiled. “A proper one.”

She turned to her computer, looking through it.

“And you are… yes, you’re scheduled for today. I’ll call Mata up for you.” She typed something onto her keyboard, grabbing the mouse to click through something. Glancing at Susan, she finished what she was doing and leaned her elbows on the lower set part of the desk in front of her. “Early today?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I figured it would be better than being anxious at home.”

The receptionist laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I do the same.” She smiled as she turned back to her computer. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks.’ She said, giving her a smile that was more of a grimace. Sitting down in the chairs, she tried to settle her nerves. Her mind and pulse raced anyway, no matter how deeply she tried to breathe. A child ran through the room, holding a cat plush and yelling to their parents. who followed after them laughing with each other.

She frowned.

She waited.

Eventually, the side door opened, Andrew leaning half out of it and scanning the room, before fully opening it when he saw her. She used the arm of the chair to stand up and walked across the room.

“How are you today?” He asked as they went down the hallway.

“Do you want the polite answer or the honest one?”

“Honest, I would think.”

She looked down at the floor.

“Not very good.” A moment of quiet, he didn’t respond. “Anxious, worried he won’t want to see me, that it’s going to all blow up in my face.”

“I understand.” They reached the lift. “I know it’s not much but, I think that even if he doesn’t, you can get through to him.”

The tension on her face lessened.

“Thank you.”

They kept walking.

Her heart was in her throat, climbing higher with every step forward, every door passed. It sank its claws into the softness of her windpipe and pulled itself ever closer to her mouth, to escape, until all she could do would be to stand there and watch it beat on the tiles till her blood settled and turned cold, till she fell to the floor and her eyes grew unseeing.

They turned a corner. She heard screaming.

She tried to breathe slowly, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides to soothe her nerves. To calm her thoughts.

It didn’t work.

It didn’t work because it wouldn’t work. He didn’t want her, didn’t want to see her. Why would he? She took the tiny thing that had begun to regrow between them and smothered it with her hands, crushed it until it turned to pulp. There was no reason for him to want her there with him.

They reached the door.

It was stupid. Idiotic and thoughtless and damning. The look on his face all she needed to know of how he saw her, of what he saw in her as she carried away helpless children to a fate she didn’t know, a white coat on her back same as every other one of his tormentors.

She walked past the group waiting in the room, not looking at any of them.

He hated her. He had to. He had to. How could she bear to go in there with him when she knew it would do nothing but hurt? Do nothing but rub in the fact that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, trust her anymore?

She stood in front of the door, she hadn’t even looked through the window.

Her heart was on the floor, beating away as it grew cold but never ceasing in its incessant thumping, in causing the rushing in her ears.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this to him. How could they expect her to do this to him?

She hated this.

She hated them.

He hated her.

“Whenever you’re ready Mrs. Ayers.”

She wasn’t.

She went in.

He was hunched over in the corner, and tilted his head towards the door as it clicked shut. His eyes snapped to her and narrowed into a glare, the corner of his mouth lifting to show the sharp red teeth clenched in his lips.

Slowly, like one trying not to aggravate a wild animal, she moved to the side of the room, across from him, looking in his direction but avoiding eye contact, gaze downturned. She lowered herself down and brought her hands together, clasping her fingers together to keep herself from wringing them. He followed her movements, stare not leaving her for a moment.

She waited.

He watched, expression firmly set on his face.

Her thumbs circled each other. He didn’t want her there. She should leave. He was going to tell her to leave. His eyes bored into her.

She relaxed her grip and slipped the strap of her bag off of her shoulder. Opening the top, her hands rummaged in one of the pockets before she pulled out her notebook and a pen. She opened it and began to do simple sketches of whatever crossed her mind, whatever would distract it, ballpoint gliding slowly over the paper. She didn’t look up. She felt him looking at her.

Her skin crawled with every minute that passed, with every mark she made to distract herself from his unmoving eyes.

Something had to happen. She needed something to happen.

She didn’t move.

She waited.

He watched.

She didn’t know how many times she’d turned her page to start a new set of random drawings when she heard a shuffle, the slightest noise. Her eyes trailed up, barely looking enough to see him shifting his weight to stand up. Her heart sank. It leapt. It fell like lead into her stomach as it crawled its way into her throat.

She felt more than saw him stomp his way closer, previous days’ hesitations nowhere to be seen. He stopped just over an arm’s length away. She couldn’t reach him if she leaned. She shouldn’t try. He sat down heavily, a huff escaping his mouth as he crossed his arms.

She looked up.

Their eyes met.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you here?”

For him. She was there for him. To apologize, to comfort, to make whatever amends that she could for what she did.

To make herself feel better..?

“I wanted to see you.”

His face twisted. It was an angry look. She didn’t like it.

“You didn’t want to see me before. Why is today special?”

“But I did. I just, couldn’t. My husband, George, he deserves to see you just as much as I do.”

His neck stretched slightly as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

“Not then.”

She wavered.

“I’m sorry” She barely whispers. “I wanted to, I thought that’s what I came for. For you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“You helped them.” His voice is just as quiet.

“I had to.” He scoffs. “I was in there, if I hadn’t they would have known, I would have been caught. I wouldn’t have been able to see you at all anymore. I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Why do you want to see me so bad? What am I to you?”

“I-” Her throat caught, heart taking up the space that her words are supposed to come out of. “What do you remember, before?”

He leaned back, face turning questioning.

“Not much. Not that I can make out at least.”

“I… knew you, before.”

His expression flickered, something other than irritation passing across his features before they hardened back into his previous scowl.

“But you don’t know me now. I don’t remember before, I’m not whoever I was to you.”

Her heart sank. She pretended it didn’t.

“Even so, I knew you. I want to know you again” She needed to.

He looked away, face softening marginally.

It was quiet.

She waited.

His eyes caught on something.

“You… brought the book?” The words were soft.

She nodded.

He squeezed his crossed arms tighter into his chest, glaring at the floor.

“Would you finish it?”

“Of course.”

She tucked her notebook and pen back into their pocket and grabbed the spine of the softcover, pulling it out of the folds of the lab coat.

She flipped through the pages until she reached the one she had hastily dog-eared. She glanced back up to him, his frown still aimed at the floor, before skimming lines to find where she had left off.

The words came out awkward as she used them to push through the discomfort that had grown in the atmosphere. And she read. And he listened.

She read page after page, inching ever closer to the end of the book, as he sat in front of her, demeanor prickly but still present, still attentive.

He didn’t look at her.

“...and on that same road from which he had left, he returned home once more.”

She closed the book softly, setting it down on the floor next to her.

She fiddled with her hands, unsure of what to do now that the tentative bridge of a story had finished. Looking at the watch she kept in her bag, it was barely afternoon. It wasn’t late. It was too late.

She put the watch back into her bag and turned to look at him and-

He was staring at her.

“I should probably go. It’s late” It isn’t. It isn’t late at all. It’s too late to do anything.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me? How do I know this isn’t just another test? Just another for them to see how I tick?”

“I- I don’t know.”

He scoffed, looking away.

“What would you need?” He turned back to her, eyebrows raised. “What would you need me to say to believe me?”

“Who…” He paused, nonexistent eyes flicking around as he made up his mind on what to say. “Who were you, to me? How did you know me?”

“I-” She looked away. Would he believe her? Would she ruin everything that much more by telling him? She didn’t know. She didn’t know.

His face twisted with annoyance, with a grim self-chastising I told you so. He uncrossed his arms and began to stand.

“I was your mother.”

He froze, face going slack. He lifted his hands and pressed them into his temples, shaking his head side to side.

“You, but, you couldn’t- they died. They died and they didn’t want me, never wanted me. They- she, reached for me. I fell. They didn’t want me and they’re gone.”

Susan felt her face falter and pushed herself up to stand, before reaching forward slightly, opening her arms.

He jerked away, taking a step back, before dropping an arm from his head to reach for her and shifting the other to run down his face, deep gouges following his fingers. She stepped toward him and his arm pulled back, wrapping around his middle, fingers sinking in. A moment. He slowly released his arm and raised it slightly before pulling away, reaching out again and back, arm moving forward, reaching out to her in jerky movements.

“Hey, hey you’re alright.” She had to do something. She had to try. “It’s okay.”

“But it isn’t.” His arm was stretched out fully, asking for something, asking for her, as the other rearranged his face. “It isn’t.”

“I- I’m not sure what’s wrong, what you need, but…” She reached forward and tentatively grabbed his hand, his own wrapping around hers, and pulled slightly. He took a step forward. “But I’m your mother, I’m here for you, only you, and you are my son. You always will be.”

He took another shaky step forward, and another, until he was close enough that she carefully, gingerly, lifted her arms to wrap them around his shoulders. He sank to the floor, hugging her back and tucking what was left of his face into her shoulder, form turning soft. She lifted her hand to the back of his head, holding him close.

She held him for what felt like hours, minutes, too long and not long enough.

“Do you have to leave?”

“I do. It’s getting late, my husband-” Isn’t home. Gone, leaving her with nothing to go back to but an empty house.

“You don’t have to.”

She considered it. There was nothing at her house that she needed to get back to. Why couldn’t she stay longer with him?

“I-”

Her eyes flicked to the window. She couldn’t see them. They could see her.

They were watching her.

“I don’t think they would let me.”

She felt him squeeze her tighter.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough.

She felt his grip loosen and pulled away, his arms lowering hesitantly. His face was downcast, the ruts left behind slowly filling themselves in. She grabbed his hand and held it between her own.

“I’ll come back when I can.”

He looked away, grimacing.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, head still turned.

She let go of his hand and grabbed her bag, giving him a worried smile as she stepped away. She paused for a second before walking to the door. Just as she moved to open it, she looked back. His eyes lifted, just barely, to meet hers. He sat down, still hunched over, still looking, and she opened the door and left.

She walked past the scientists without stopping and went through the second door, pulling out a chair at the big table and sitting down. Her head dropped into her hands as she propped her elbows on the tabletop. Nobody came through the door, not as she waited, misery sinking its way into her bones. What was she going to do? She didn’t know, he had gripped her like a lifeline, held her like she would disappear into smoke if he didn’t, but he hadn’t seemed happy to see her, hadn’t seemed like he felt any way about her other than angry. She didn’t know.

A creak behind her made her look up to see Andrew coming into the room.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

The walk was silent, neither saying a word.

The elevator jolted to life as it lifted up.

She blinked heavily, eyelids feeling like they had weights.

The elevator rocked.

“Drop your bag.”

She glanced to the side. He wasn’t looking at her, expression almost bored.

“What?”

“Drop your bag, like it’s an accident.”

She loosened her grip on the strap, feeling it slip slowly down her shoulder.

The platform jostled.

It fell.

She turned like she was going to pick it up but Andrew was already kneeling. He tucked something into its pocket. He stood, lifting it and handing it back to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, turning away again. A look of anxiety was worming its way under his mask of indifference, she could see it. She turned away to look at the walls as they moved downward. Her bag felt heavy. It felt exactly the same as before.

The lift stuttered to a stop and they stepped off, shoes echoing on the tiles as they walked away.

She felt the urge to look through her bag as soon as she sat in her car, to see what he had put in there.

She shouldn’t.

She wanted to.

She went home.

She set her bag on the coffee table and sat on the couch, looking through it as soon as she made it through her door.

Paperback, notebook, pen, coat, glasses, watch- a paper. She pulled it out and unfolded the packet, staple in the corner holding the pages neatly together. There were only three. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself, she began to read through them.

The first seemed like a profile, describing someone she didn’t know. The name at the top read “Matthew Hallard.” Her eyes latched onto words as she skimmed across. Kind. Good with others. Charismatic. “Dream child.” She didn’t know why he gave this to her. Who was this? She made her way to the bottom of the page and-

What?

That didn’t-

She read it again.

“Subject to be used for Experiment 1322C, Project: Doey.”

Her eyes flicked to the top of the paper and she read through the whole page one more time. She quickly flipped to the next piece, another profile. She read the name. “Kevin Barnes.” This report seemed almost derisive towards him, describing him as aggressive and volatile, a “problem child.” The only positive thing it said was near the end, calling him “exceptional both physically and mentally” followed by a disclaimer that the negatives far outweighed any possible benefits. It ended the same as the last.

“Subject to be used for Experiment 1322B, Project: Doey.”

Her hands trembled as she turned it over to the last page.

“Jack Ayers.”

She set the paper down on the table and pressed her hand to her mouth. This couldn’t- three? They took three children? Her child? How could they- no wonder he’s not okay. She took a breath and picked it back up, reading through it slowly.

“Observation from previous visits shows subject to be incredibly optimistic, friendly and a good mediator between others.” it continued on to describe different traits and how they would serve the “project.” How long had they been watching him? Watching them? The paragraph ended with “Shows potential for the future.” She looked to the bottom of the page.

“Subject to be used for Experiment 1322A, Project: Doey.”

She didn’t-

How could they?

She turned back to the first page and reread it, flipping from through them over and over like they didn’t end. She stared at the words until they were burned into her memory. She had to.

Blinking the static out of her eyes, she looked at the clock. It was late. She should eat.

She stood, leaving her bag and everything on the table and stared into the kitchen. She should eat.

She turned around and walked to the stairway, stepping up them slowly. The door creaked open and she moved to stand in front of the bed. His bed.

She picked up the toy and sat down on the comforter, brushing her thumb across the stitched features. He was her boy, not fully, not how he used to be, but he was still hers. Changed and different but still hers, still her son. She still had to get him out. But he was more now, more than just her son, but… he was still hers. They were all hers, now. She would get them out.

She would.

Holding the plush in her arms, she turned and laid down on top of the comforter, curling her knees to fit on the smaller bed. Her leg ached.

She closed her eyes. There were no dreams.

Chapter Text

It was the end of the week when Susan woke up. It was the end of the week and it had been days since she had seen her son, since she learned she had three now. It had been days since she had seen her son( s? ) and she felt… okay. Not great, not as if every worry and stressor had left her consciousness, just, okay. It was an improvement.

It was the best she could hope for.

She sat up without her head throbbing for the first time in, she didn’t know how long, the sun peaking out from behind the curtains. Sighing as the heels of her palms found their way into her eyes, she shuffled her legs out of the blankets and over the side of her bed, her bad knee finally stopping its persistent ache after she fell asleep with her prosthetic on.

She looked at her bedside clock, she was supposed to go out with Anne and Nicole in a couple hours, supposed to see them again and smile and laugh and pretend the last few months never happened. Supposed to act like she still had both legs and her sons weren’t trapped in that god-awful place and they had never looked at her with that gut-churning pity .

She leaned forward and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. It was fine, good for her even. It would take her mind off of everything…

She didn’t want her mind taken off of everything. She glanced at the clock again.

With a huff she reached for her prosthetic and began putting it on, before standing and moving to her door, intent on getting some form of caffeine into her system before she left.

The mug was hot in her hands as she leaned back against the counter, the warmth sinking into her bones and up her wrists. She closed her eyes and breathed in the coffee smell as she took another sip. She gave herself the time to move slowly, doing her best to stay relaxed and not wind herself up. It was going to be a good day. She was going to have a good day.

But her mind kept drifting.

It kept drifting to sterile walls and one-way glass, an unyielding door and the cries it refused to answer.

The cries she couldn’t hear because she was too far away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, downing the last of her coffee and setting the mug in the sink as she pushed herself off of the counter. Her feet moved quickly as she went back to her room to get ready, as if she could avoid the thoughts drifting up to her, as if she moved fast enough they couldn’t catch up.

Silly, you can’t avoid your own mind, it’s part of you.

She went for her bottom drawer, looking through pairs of pants and skirts for something to settle on, anything long, anything that would cover her leg. Maybe if they didn’t see it they’d forget. Maybe if they didn’t see it they might not look at her like she could break at any point, like she was already broken. Maybe if it all went well she wouldn’t have to think about her boys being put through god-knows-what while she went to spend the day with her friends.

Maybe if it all went well the guilt wouldn’t catch up to her.

She finally picked a pair of pants, pulling them out of the drawer and closing it quickly like it burned her. Maybe it should have.

She went through the motions absentmindedly, changing her clothes and putting on the same makeup she wore every day and slipping a clip into her hair to keep it out of her face.

She sat in front of her mirror and stared, stared like it might change her into someone else, like it might show her anything but her own blank eyes looking back at her.

She breathed.

Pushing the stool back from the vanity she turned on her heel and left the room. The creaking from the floorboards followed her down the hall and up the stairs.

She opened the door at the top and sat heavily on the bed, the comforter sinking around her.

It was fine. She had time.

She was fine.

The toy fell over, the top of its head leaning against her side. She lifted it up, looking at its face like it might give her the answers she wanted, like its crude features would stop being a mockery of the real thing , would stop being an accusation of every mistake, every way she’d failed him? Them. Because she had failed all of them by now, hadn’t she?

She set it back against the pillow. She couldn’t be in there anymore. The room was empty, had been empty for months. It belonged to a ghost.

The whole house was full of ghosts.

She left, closing the door and stepping quickly down the stairs.

It was almost late enough for her to leave without making it there worryingly early, without them being able to see the lies stuck in her teeth as she tells them she only got there a couple minutes ago. Without them wondering why she couldn’t stand to be alone in that house for another minute.

She grabbed her mug and filled it with more coffee, hoping it would do a better job at soothing her rambling thoughts than the earlier one did. Honestly, they were going to a diner where she didn’t doubt she’d buy herself another coffee, she shouldn’t be having another cup just before leaving. It couldn’t be good for her.

She didn’t find it in herself to care.

She moved to the living room where her bag continued to lay on top of the coffee table, its contents still strewn across the surface. She slipped her wallet and notebook into it, the pen clipped to the rings catching halfheartedly on the bag’s edge, and reached across the table for her pocket watch, hand passing over the papers that she refused to look at. They weren’t there. She wasn’t going to think about it today. About them.

How could she not?

She looked at the clock.

It was late enough, she could go… right?

She pressed a hand to her temple.

It was fine.

She grabbed her keys and slipped her bag over her shoulder, leaving out the front door without looking back.

There was music playing when she walked through the doors, something that she couldn’t name, upbeat and happy and loud. A waitress led her to a table, handing her a menu as she sat down.

“Is there anything you’d like me to get for you right away?”

Another coffee sounded nice.

“Just water please.”

She nodded and walked away, Susan absentmindedly noting her stopping at another table.

She glanced at the time.

She was early.

It was fine.

She looked out the window, watching people walk by. Watched the clouds slowly change shape to cover the sun as it rose higher into the sky. She sipped at her water.

The bell on the door jingled and she heard footsteps behind her. Turning away from the window, she saw Nicole sliding into the booth across from her, a small smile on her face.

“Susan, hi,” Her smile widened marginally as Susan felt herself smile back. “It’s been too long, how have you been?”

Her eyes flicked down and Susan felt her smile strain just slightly.

“I’ve been good.”

She blinked softly. “I’m so glad to hear that.” A pause. “And, how have you been?”

Susan let her confusion show on her face,

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that, with the accident and all-”

“Everything is fine.” It left her mouth too quickly. “I’m as good as I can be.”

The too-sad smile on Nicole’s face crawled its way under her skin. She looked out the window.

Nicole’s eyes stayed on her face, obviously wanting to say more, but Susan avoided her gaze, not giving her the opening. People walked by the window.

The door bell jingled.

“Nicole hi!”

Oh, Anne was here.

She sat down next to Nicole and turned towards Susan.

“Hey Sue, it’s good to see you” She practically beamed. Her eyes flicked to the side. “Here on two legs today?”

She said it like a joke, like something funny shared between the three of them.

It wasn’t.

She felt her face twist, an expression she couldn’t name flashed across Anne’s face before the waitress came back to ask for their orders.

She gives in and orders a coffee, and the first breakfast item she saw on the menu. She forgot what it was as the words left her mouth.

“So,” the word sticks in her throat, the effort to be the one to break the silence more than it was worth. “How have you both been lately?”

“Me and James have been doing alright.” Nicole started after a moment’s pause. “The house is finally settling and James is in line for a promotion.”

Susan smiled softly as Anne went on about how great it was.

She had two kids. Susan waited for her to say how they were doing.

She didn’t.

Why didn’t she?

Susan felt something in her chest, heavy and clinging and angry .

“And your kids?” their small conversation stuttered to a stop as they both turned towards her. “How are they?”

“They’re both doing well.” She looked viscerally uncomfortable. Good. “Margaret wants to do soccer tryouts despite my reservations, and Jacob’s just getting over a cold.”

Susan felt herself smile with too many teeth. “I’m happy for you. It’s wonderful that everything is working out.”

Nicole looked down, her hands absentmindedly picking at the corner of a napkin.

“Work’s been rough,” Anne starts when Susan turns to her. “The kids never listen to me, but I can’t think of a time when they have.”

Susan felt herself laugh, a more genuine smile settling across her face.

“They’re debating switching me to a different room, which is not what I want, but I’m not the one in charge so I’ll just have to deal with the cards I’m dealt.”

“And you?” Nicole asked, looking up from her hands.

“Me?”

“How have things been with you and George?”

“Oh you know,” Susan waved her hand in the air like it would ease the growing tightness in her chest. “Same as always.”

Both of their faces turned sad and it was all she could do to stay in her seat, to not walk away.

“Susan-”

“I’ve got your orders here.” The waitress interrupted with perfect timing.

Anne and Nicole shared a glance as the food was set on the table. She ignored it.

“Have you seen anything new at the theater recently?”

Susan spaced out as they began to talk again, the topic of conversation changing too quickly for her tastes, occasionally giving noncommittal answers whenever they tried to pull her into it

The food was okay. The coffee was awful and bitter. It made her feel better.

The bell at the door rang again and suddenly the loud voice of a child filled the diner.

Susan felt her eyes drift over, following his path as he walked with his parents to a table.

“-san, Susan.”

She startled back to awareness as Nicole laid a hand on top of hers.

“Are you alright?”

She tried to smile.

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Susan, it’s us , you can talk to us.”

She felt her face strain.

“I said I’m fine.”

Anne glanced over to where she had been staring.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, Sue. We wouldn’t expect you to be.” She opened her mouth to retort- “We know you miss Jack. You don’t have to pretend not to. We’re here for you.”

Her teeth clicked as her mouth snapped shut, her argument of being fine dying a quick and painful death.

She felt the ugly thing in her chest squeeze .

“Don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him.”

They faltered slightly at the harsh tone of her words.

“Susan, it’s okay. Nobody blames you-”

“No! No. You don’t get to tell me it’s okay because you don’t know that. You don’t know anything! You- ” She cut herself off with a stuttering breath.

Reaching into her wallet, she pulled out likely more than her fair share of the bill and set it on the table as she stood.

“It was nice seeing both of you.”

She didn’t listen to them try to call her back. Didn’t turn around.

She pulled out her keys, got in her car, and drove back to an empty house.

George was home by the end of the weekend. It soothed her nerves.

It felt like a relief.

He asked her how her visits went.

The papers were tucked into a drawer in her vanity. She didn’t mention them. She didn’t mention the looks on her friends’ faces as she walked away, their calling after her.

She didn’t know why.

She said they went well.

It was left at that.

She was glad. It ate at her.

He was going into the room on their next visit. She should say something.

It could wait.

For the time being, she sat with him, listening to him go on about his trip, the nearby sights, how his coworkers either helped considerably or made the whole time more difficult than needed.

She let him grab her chair and push her into the living room so her leg could rest, let him make dinner, sat still and rested as she ignored the worried look in his eyes. Ignored that he knew something was wrong, that she wasn’t telling him something.

They spent the night together, watching a movie and laughing, taking comfort in each others’ presence. Ignoring the lingering question in the air of ‘What went wrong?’

When they went to bed, Susan kept her eyes off of the vanity. As she laid still in the darkness, George blocking her view of it, she could still feel it there. She felt like it was watching her instead.

She closed her eyes.

The receptionist’s smile seemed kinder to Susan than it used to when they walked in.

She went through the motions, sitting, waiting, going through the door and following Andrew through the hallways. She took a controlled breath to soothe her nerves as they moved onto the lift, George an anchor by her side. She had to focus.

“If I left,” She murmured. “in the middle of the visit, let’s say, to go to the bathroom, how closely would I be watched?”

Andrew’s eyes widened marginally.

“That would depend on how noticeably you left.”

She nodded

“Is the bathroom in the other direction of that large split?”

She hoped he picked up on what she was asking.

“It is.”

Good.

“And do the bathrooms, for example, need to be unlocked?”

“Almost every door needs a card to be opened, but most have a keypad with a code that can be input to open them in case of an emergency.”

“Do you happen to know the code for the bathroom?”

The elevator neared the ground as she reached for her pen, seeming like she was looking through it as she grabbed her pen and began to write on her wrist.

“The code is 11-70-72.” She moved to put the pen away before pausing. “The code to get back into the room is 13-22-03.”

The lift stopped and they wordlessly followed Andrew out and down the hallway.

As soon as they reached the split she began to mentally note the path, lefts and rights in turn. She couldn’t afford to forget.

She kept her eyes ahead as they walked through the sets of doors. Through the viewing window, she could see him sitting in the corner, looking at the door. She wondered if they told him they’d be visiting.

She watched as George walked through the door and moved to sit near the center of the room. Jackie the boys (?) lifted their head to look at him.

Her attention was halfhearted as George tried to show them (were they a them or a he now? She didn’t know) how to do a sudoku. She was waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Checking the time to see that it had been over half an hour, she inched back until she was fully behind the group. She glanced to the side to see Andrew looking at her from the corner of his eye. He nodded imperceptibly and she slipped out of the room as quietly as she could.

A wavering breath pulled itself out of her lungs before the door opened and she stepped foot into the hallway.

Setting her shoulders back she walked with as much assuredness as she could muster. She knew where she was going and it was where she was supposed to be.

The thought of seeing someone else in the hallways made her feel ill.

Her shoes padded lightly on the linoleum as she ran through her memorized directions, worry growing in her gut that she might have remembered wrong, and a sigh of relief leaving her when she finally reached it.

The open space seemed to loom in front of her, freezing her in place. She could do this. She had to.

She forced her foot forward and followed the path of the hallway in front of her. It stretched on, occasionally turning one way or the other. It had no splits.

Eventually, she turned a corner and there, in front of her, was a large metal door. She quickly went forward to the keypad on the side and input the code, glancing at her wrist to make sure it was correct.

She heard something in the door shift and reached out to slowly, carefully, pull it open.

Slipping inside, she wished she had a light. The space was completely dark, save for a very soft indirect glow coming from the ceiling, only allowing her to see the path of the floor in front of her and the walls. But as she looked closer she realized they weren’t walls, they were bars, like in a cell. She couldn’t see anything inside. Walking forward, the room seemed to stretch on, the only changes being the end of one cage and the start of another, sometimes with different widths of gaps between the bars.

No sound came from any of them. The other end of the hallway was barely visible, the soft light barely reflecting off of the far-away door.

She hadn’t known how long she’d been walking when she reached a cage with the biggest gaps she had seen yet. Leaning in closer, her hand lightly brushed one of the bars and she thought to herself that she could fit through the gap if she really tried.

Pulling away, she turned to keep moving when the too-loud sound of the door unlocking echoed down the walkway.

She froze, panic icing her blood as she saw someone come into the room. A click rang out and the beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness of the room. It swung side to side, looking into each cage. Her head turned quickly between the person behind her, the large cage, and the rest of the walkway ahead.

The flashlight continued to grow closer when, almost before she could process it, a large plush hand reached through the bars and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward a gap almost gently if not for the urgency. She complied with it, turning to slide through easier.

She followed it, unable to see where it was moving her, before she felt the wall and it was pushing her behind something. Staying still, her breaths as quiet as she could make them, she waited, knees tucked into her torso so tightly they ached. She could feel the presence of whatever grabbed her sitting in front of her, though it wasn’t touching her anymore.

The footsteps grew louder as the person neared, the reflected light getting brighter and brighter until suddenly it was shining in her direction. She heard a loud hiss at the brightness of the light. She curled tighter into herself, and saw the silhouette of what pulled her in, the brightnessof the light removing any color. Its torso was just large enough to block the light from reaching her, the fur on the top of its head curved into almost cartoon faux devil horns. A single visible long limb stretched out from its body.

After only moments, though it felt like an eternity, the person swung the flashlight into another cage and walked away. They waited. Waited for the guard to walk away, to reach the end of the path. Waited for them to turn around and come back, to check over each cage again. The light shined in and the thing (Child it was probably a child) hissed at the light again. The person scoffed and moved away. Slowly, eventually, they reached the door, unlocking it and leaving. Susan waited a beat before shuffling out of where she had been sitting. She turned around, unable to see, and reached out slightly. Plush softly brushed her hand and she moved to hold it between her own.

“Thank you.” She whispered, it felt too loud in the empty silence. Something else settled lightly against her back, she thought it might be their other hand. “I’ll get you out of here one day, I promise.”

She softly let go and felt them pull away, losing all contact. Turning away she squeezed back through the bars and moved as quickly back to the door as she dared. She carefully put in the code to the keypad, and hoped and prayed there was nobody else on the other side as she pressed enter. The sound of the door unlocking was far too loud, and as she eased the door open she was greeted with-

an empty hallway.

A quick laugh escaped her lips before she went out and closed the door behind her, the sound of it relocking following her as she walked away. She’d been gone too long.

The singular path was easy to follow until she reached the split, and she began to run through her mental directions as she made her way through the near-identical halls.

Her hands shook marginally as she unlocked the door and made her way back into the observation room. The panning of the camera followed her.

Andrew made eye contact with her and she nodded, turning to look through the glass. Time felt like it began slipping past her as she watched. She felt like she had barely been in there when George left the room, she hadn’t been gone that long, she’d checked. Her body went through the motions of walking, getting on and off of the lift, out of the door and into the car and suddenly she was home. As soon as she walked through the door everything snapped back into clarity. She sat down on the couch and rubbed her temples. She wished it was easier.

“Susan” George knelt in front of her. “Where did you go? What happened?”

“I-” She took a breath. “I went into the place where they keep the others. I think it was only one of them.”

“What was there?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. They keep them in cages in a pitch-black room. I almost got caught but, one of them hid me.” She looked up. “I need to get them out of there.”

“We will. We’ll figure it out and make a plan. It’ll work. It has to.” He moved to stand up and she grabbed his hand. “Sue?”

“I- Andrew gave me something, last time.” She stood and led him down the hall and into their room. “You need to see.”

Pulling open a drawer of her vanity, she grabbed the papers and handed them to him.

He took them from her carefully. “What is this?”

“It’s an answer.”

He sat down heavily on the bed as his eyes skimmed the words. She saw the moment he reached it, his eyebrows pressing together.

“Susan…” He looked up at her. “What does this mean?”

She sat down next to him, and held his hand.