Chapter Text
I
The boy had never known cold before the facility. He also would say he'd never known fear, but fear has been the one constant in his short life. Seven years old, yet here was his little sister grabbing his hand and comforting him.
Squeezing Lizzy's hand in response, he wondered if he'd ever stop living in fear.
Also, if he'd ever stop shivering.
The men in the weird suits aimed their weird hoses at the boy and his sister, and this time he instinctively took a step in front of Lizzy. He didn't know if the hoses were dangerous, but the burden of watching both of his parents get shot was still too fresh in his mind to not try to protect her at least a little.
The boy shook his head and blinked as the image of his parents falling, blood blossoming like flowers that didn't grow anymore on their shirts surfaced. He pushed those to the back of his head. Now was not the time to deal with it.
Lizzy held her brother's hand tightly as the hoses shot a fog at them, enveloping the pair into a cloud of mist that seemed to bite at their skin. Lizzy sniffled somewhere behind the boy, but before he could turn to comfort her, he was pulled away from her.
"No! Lizzy!" He screamed, fighting against the unnaturally strong arms pulling him in the opposite direction of his sister. He could hear her calling his name, but the fog was too thick, too strong, too painful. He blinked, and Lizzy and the guard holding her were nowhere to be seen. They had went down the opposite hall, the mist too intense to see through.
"Lizzy," The boy whimpered, finally giving up struggling as he inhaled another lungful of the mist, the effects finally taking place. His eyelids drooped and he could practically feel his tense muscles relaxing.
The guard tossed the boy over his shoulder like a rag doll, the plastic sheet of his hazmat suit revealing the pitiful expression he gave the blonde haired kid in his arms.
"It's alright, kid. You're safe now."
- - -
Isaac. That was the name they were telling him to accept. They expected him to just abandon the one his loving parents had given him, the one he'd lived with for seven years. And replace it with Isaac.
"Isaac what?" The boy asked, aware how different his voice sounded compared to the adults he'd spoken to so far. They all let their a's fall quite flat. He relished in the thought that his voice sounded much fancier than theirs did.
The man, Randall, gave the boy a look of confusion mixed with irritation. "What?"
Glaring at the adult, the boy refrained from rolling his eyes. "You want to give me a new name? At least give me a full one. Isaac what? What's the last name?"
Randall's irritated expression morphed to one that seemed impressed. It was then he decided he never wanted to impress this man ever again. That would mean he would be thinking like him, and the boy didn't want to do that.
"Newton. Isaac Newton."
He let out a laugh before realizing the man was serious. "Newt? That's a lizard or something. You can't possibly expect me to forget my real name in favor to Isaac Newton."
The impressed look Randall had was instantly taken over by another one of irritation and anger. "Alright, kid. I'm done playing around now. You aren't the first I've had to do this too, so don't expect any mercy on my part."
It was then that the young boy figured out what all the wires attached to him in the chair did. He let out a scream of agony as any feeling besides pure pain washed through him. It forced its way to the boy's brain, and he caught the quick uncomfortable look on Randall's face before all he knew was black.
"What's your name?
"Not Isaac bloody Newton, that's for sure."
A sigh. A crank of a lever. Pain. Screams. Black.
"What's your name?"
"Isaac, fine! It's Isaac."
"You don't believe it and neither do I."
"No, please-"
The boy almost wished they'd left him in the house with his dead parents instead of this.
"What's your name?"
"Isaac... it's Isaac..."
"Let's make sure you remember it."
"Please-" He could only whisper.
"What's your name?"
"Newt."
Gritted teeth. An act of rebelliousness while still conforming.
Anything to stop that awful pain.
Anything to prove he wouldn't give in completely.
Not ever.
Silence on Randall's end. The boy slowly lifted his head, ignoring the bolts of pain that shot down his neck. He saw Randall's eyebrows up in surprise, as well as the impressed lift to his mouth the boy wished would go away.
"Okay. Newt. We can work with that."
The boy dropped his head again, letting out a relieved breath.
"Just so you remember that's as far as I'll let that rebellion go."
He'd never known what a cell looked like. But his father had told him the storylines to some of his favorite crime movies. He'd explained how cells were small and had barred windows and a piece of metal jutting out of the wall for a bed.
He had a real bed. But there wasn't even a window. He figured his room looked quite like a cell.
"Bloody hell, Newt, stop being so picky," the boy whispered to himself. "At least you're alive."
Something about his sentence made him freeze during his walk to the bed. Something about his sentence struck him as odd, as wrong. He couldn't place his finger on what exactly it was, though.
Shaking his head, Newt dropped onto his bed and closed his eyes.
- - -
Newt knew not to ask about Lizzy. He knew that if he did, he'd get the same pain he got before. And every time he racked his brain to try and remember why exactly that pain had occurred, he came up empty.
But that didn't mean he couldn't think about Lizzy. He thought about her every day, even though he'd only been in the strange facility for a little over a week. He wondered if she was alone in a cell-like room, too, or if she had company.
He wondered if they had tortured her like they had tortured him.
The dark thoughts stopped when there was a knock on his door. A woman opened it, a women with bright eyes that made Newt's tense posture fall every so slightly. "Hello, Newt," the woman smiled a little.
Newt said nothing.
"My name is Dr. Paige. And I think you're really going to like what I'm about to say."
Dr. Paige stepped back and held the door open, almost as if allowing Newt out. But he didn't get his hopes up. Not yet.
"You don't have to stay alone here anymore, Newt. I'm taking you to meet a few of the other kids that you will be staying with."
Will stay with. Not can stay with. Newt didn't have a choice in the matter, as much as Dr. Paige's tone may have made it seem like he did. But Newt was okay with that. He hadn't bothered admitting it to himself, but he was dying to see someone other than the stone-faced doctors.
"Okay," Newt said quietly, sliding off his bed and standing up.
Dr. Paige smiled and as soon as Newt left the room, started leading the way down the hallway.
Newt didn't know hallway, exactly, but he didn't think it actually mattered. They all looked the same. They all consisted of white walls and a few paintings and chilly linoleum floors and not a single window.
His mind started to drift back to the day his life went to hell. The day his mother had woken them up and pointed excitedly at the snow falling outside. The day his parents-
No. No, it was dangerous to let his mind wander into the past. Best to do what the doctors suggested. Best to just forget.
Newt's heartbeat sped up as he and Dr. Paige rounded a corner, only to be met with a large cafeteria with a few groups of other kids Newt's age. Some were a little younger, some a little older, but all relatively around the same.
Suddenly his mouth was dry with nerves. He hadn't ever really had a friend besides Lizzy. Before being taken here, he had lived with his family, away from the crazies in the streets. And he'd been alone for the past week or so.
But Dr. Paige was pushing him forward, so he swallowed and took a few tentative steps into the room. The groups were picking at their breakfast, chatting aimlessly to each other.
"Hi!" Newt took a step back in surprise as a boy with black hair and Asian features walked right up to him. "My name's Minho. What group are you in?"
"Uhh..." Newt trailed off, having no clue what Minho was going on about. He turned to look up at Dr. Paige who addressed Minho when she spoke.
"Minho, this is Newt. He's in Group A, your group. I trust that you'll help him settle in and feel comfortable?" Dr. Paige raised her eyebrows, and Minho nodded quickly. "Okay. Goodbye, Newt, I'm sure I'll see you soon."
Newt watched her leave, then turned back to Minho, who was watching her, too. "She's nice," Minho shrugged. "But she's lying when she says she'll see you soon. She just takes everyone to their group and then goes to work with her favorite kid."
Frowning, Newt decided he had a lot to ask the black haired boy. He ran them through his mind to decide on one. "Who's her favorite kid?"
Minho just shrugged again and began walking towards the table with the smallest group. Newt quickly fell in step next to him. "Dunno. Only saw him once, walking in the hall with Dr. Paige. He didn't see me, though. But I've never seen him again."
"Is he sick?" Newt asked, thinking that that was the only thing that was the only reason as to why a boy wouldn't be with the rest of the kids.
"Nah, he seemed fine. They don't let sick kids in here, anyways. Now come on, I've got to introduce you to everyone. Got to be your mom for a few days and make you feel at home."
Although Newt knew he was joking, Minho slung an arm around his shoulders and Newt let himself grin a little.
Yeah. He could tell he and Minho were going to be friends.
- - -
"I will beat the crap out of you Minho, give it back!"
Newt rolled his eyes and looked up from where he was laying on his bunk bed, only to see Minho giggling like a little girl and running around the room with a shoe in his hand. Alby's shoe, Newt figured, from the way the dark skinned boy was yelling at Minho.
He tried to focus back on the book French he was reading. He was only eight, but he had nothing better to do in the times where he wasn't in class or getting tests done or eating in the cafeteria, so he decided to teach himself French.
Although he hadn't gotten very far. He never does when Minho's in an energetic mood. And that happens to be almost every other night. Newt sighed and closed his book, tossing it down on the bed as he sat up.
"Bloody hell, Minho, would you just give Alby is bleeding shoe back?" Newt groaned.
Minho did what he always did. He laughed at Newt's slang.
Newt never did figure out why his voice was the only different one in the entire building.
But laughing at Newt slowed him down a little, allowing Alby to grab the shoe out of Minho's hand and slide it on.
"Sorry Mama Newt," Minho teased, jumping off of the bed he was standing on to put his own shoes on. Everyone else in the room was getting ready. They had another test today, although this one was apparently different than the hundred other ones.
In the year he'd been at the facility and joined Minho and the other boys in Group A, Newt had risen up to be the reassuring figure in the group. Almost a leader of sorts, but Newt liked to let that full title fall to Alby.
Before Newt could retaliate, the door to their room opened, and an unfamiliar doctor appeared. "Come on, boys. Time for testing."
"They don't even try to comfort us anymore," Alby grumbled. Newt glanced at the doctor, but he either didn't hear Alby, or chose to ignore him. Ever since Alby turned ten he decided to say things like that under his breath.
Sliding his own shoes on, Newt followed Alby and a newer boy named Winston from the room, Minho and the others trailing after. As the group followed the strange doctor, Newt realized they were going into a wing that they'd never been in before.
"Er-" Newt cleared his throat. "Where are we going?"
The doctor glanced down at Newt, looking slightly uncomfortable at the question. "Today's project is very important. We have a lot riding on it. I can't say much more about it."
That was fine. Newt didn't want to hear the man's speak any more than he had to, really. The doctor spoke in the same monotone voice all the adults had around here. Minho liked to imitate them for it.
Dr. Paige was the only one that hadn't spoken like that. But Newt hadn't seen her since getting dropped off at the cafeteria. Minho was right. She never comes back.
There was Randall, too. But Newt liked to pretend that man didn't exist.
The group arrived to a hallway lined with closed doors. The doctor began separating them into pairs, and Newt grew nervous when his name was said alone. He looked down the hall at Minho, who was standing with Alby by a door. Minho shrugged, like always.
"What about me?" Newt raised his hand slightly, like in the classrooms. "Who am I going with?"
That strange uncomfortable look came over the doctors face again. "Doesn't matter. The pairs are only the people in the room, you won't actually be interacting with them anyways."
And with that, the doors opened to reveal more doctors, and the boys were led into the rooms. Newt gulped and stepped into his room alone. There were two hospital beds with matching equipment, and a curtain splitting the room down the middle.
Newt saw his name on the screen near one bed and turned to look at the name near the other.
He saw the letter T before the curtain was pulled closed.
The next time Newt woke up, he was back in his own bed in Group A's room, and his head was killing him. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. After looking around, he saw that all the other boys were sleeping. All but Minho, who sat on his bed uncharacteristically quiet, deep in thought.
Newt carefully got up and sat down next to him, nudging his shoulder with his own. Minho slowly turned to look at him. "What, Minho? You never shut up but now you can't spit it out?" Newt whispered, teasing the boy.
He got a grin from Minho before the boy explained.
"Remember last year when we first met? I told you about the boy who never joined our group? The one I saw once and never saw again?"
Newt frowned in confusion, but nodded.
Minho took a deep breath.
"I saw him again."