Who: Roman & Beck What: The nice, cozy cell next to Roman is no longer unoccupied. When: Early July, 2004 Where: A black site facility in Pennsylvania Warnings: Two too sweet bb's.
You were supposed to keep screaming when you were kidnapped, right? Beck tried, she really did. She had screamed herself horse, until her throat was sore and red and raw and she could hardly speak. Sheâd cried and begged and kicked and did everything she thought she could do in her power to get them to let her go. What was happening? Half the time, they kept her sedated while they moved her to the facility. She had been given a brief description of what was happening. Exciting opportunity to further science. She was a mutant. She had special abilities. Etc etc.
None of it made sense, but by the time she was put into a cell, kicking but no longer screaming, she was wide awake and terrified. Her terror clearly made the staff uncomfortable, and the emotion hit the entire area like a forcefield. The ground shook, another needle was shoved into her arm and the shaking stopped. Still, the wild fear raged around her even as she sat, subdued, in the very far back corner of her new cell.
âPlease please please please donât leave me here. I just want to go home, please, please - sir - no, donât - you canât leave me here! Whereâs my mom? I have to go home, theyâre going to be so worried and I donât want to get in trouble and -â The guard, nurse, whatever, cut her off, mumbling something about how her parents had signed off and wanted her here, they didnât want a mutant freak for a daughter and they didnât love her anymore.
Now, along with the fear was absolute heartbreak, wringing almost palpably in the air. âOh.â She said, quiet, the scrape of her bare feet against the concrete floor audible as she pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and buried her face into her knees. âOh.â
--
Life in a laboratory had become normal. When something lasted so long, how could it not. He had been younger than most when he had been placed into the program and the youngest boy. The activation of the mutant gene relied on the hormones released in puberty and while on average that was between 13-16 for males, Roman's hormones had their own plans even before his mutation decided he could manipulate them.
Standing quietly to the side in the adjacent corridor, dark eyes watched a girl and his age being brought in and placed in the cell next to his. Her fear hit him in the gut, forcing him to step back into the orderly that gripped his shoulder harder to keep him in place. Looking up, the man pushed him forward. The girl would be handled.
Sitting cross-legged on the grind next to the wall, the commotion ended with soft sobs and pleas- as it always did. Leaning his head back, he whispered through the wall, âthey say that to everyone. It might not be true.â
---
This had to be some kind of horrible nightmare, right? Hadnât she basically been asleep for most of this anyway? She was for all of it, that had to be what it was. Quietly she told herself to wake up, whispering the phrase over and over while she pinched her hand - something her brother had taught her to do a long time ago, to get over nightmares. Nothing was working. Everytime she opened her eyes, she was still in the same place.
She almost didnât hear the voice that came through the wall beside her, over the sound of her soft cries and muttering. Beck only heard half of what heâd actually said, but she understood what he was saying. The surprise of hearing someone else speak that softly though, without the gruffness of the others who had brought her here, without the exasperation in their voices, startled her slightly.
âWhoâs there?â She asked, chewing on her lower lip. âDo you think thatâs really true? That theyâre lying? They canât do that. Thatâs - itâs illegal.â She replied, stubbornness in her voice and in her feelings, outrage at being taken from her family still laced so definitively with fear and heartbreak. âI just want to go home.â
---
âIâm RomanâŚâ His voice stayed calm and composed, though there was a hint of exhaustion from that dayâs experiments. Sometimes his powers would give him an adrenaline boost and sometimes they let him hang in the wind. Tonight had been the losing end.
âWhen it comes to us⌠illegal is a grey area.â He scratched at the seam of the wall trying to open up even the smallest gap to the cell next door. They preferred him in rooms where nothing could leak out, but given the fluctuation of control over himself, they had not put him into a tank- just yet. âAnd, I donât know. I donât know your parents, but Iâve heard the same line over and over.â
Some more scratching, and he figured he would have to grab something sharp whenever he was given the chance to make the hole worth it. But the walls were just thin enough to talk through as long as they stayed quiet otherwise. âWhatâs your name?â
---
Illegal shouldnât be a grey agrea, but even at almost-thirteen, Beck knew the world didnât live in black and white, right and wrong. There was a ton of grey area, and the government had a habit of bending and breaking the rules when it fit their narrative to. She learned at least that much in her history classes, the internet, and her older brother.
Romanâs words were⌠a mix of comforting and not. Knowing heâd heard the line many times before meant that it was likely untrue, but that did nothing to settle her conscience or make her feel better. How many times had he heard it? How many had been in this cell before her and where were they now? Dead briefly crossed her mind and she shook it away, far away. She didnât want to think about that.
âIâm - Iâm Cordelia. Most people just call me Beck, though, âcause thatâs my last name and Cordelia is a dumb name.â She replied, the usual petulance in her voice when it came to her parentâs choice in her first name shone through despite the situation. Habits die hard, right? She scooted even closer to the wall now, as if some sort of comfort could be felt through the soft padded wall.
âWhat - what are they going to do to me?â She asked even quieter now, not wanting to know the answer just yet but not wanting to be unprepared the next time that door opens. âHow long have you been here? Is this - is this it? Am I going to die here?â The questions just kept coming, now that the door to the possibilities had been opened in her head.
---
âI think Cordelia is a pretty name.â Most of Roman's education had been prior to the ES program, but that did not mean he was uneducated. His mother had pushed him in studies long before she knew he was a mutant and he had inherited her intellect- or so his father would say, usually followed by âtoo smart for his own good.â Now, almost 14, he had an understanding of society beyond his years.
Her questions were normal. He understood that, and usually he would have been as blunt as his feeling toward the lying orderlies, but her voice was soft and in the hall he swore he could feel the fear she felt. âYou won't die here. They- they take you into research rooms and study your reactions to stressors. It will hurt, but you have to push through it. I'll be here to help⌠if we can get a little airway between cells..â
He met the personal question last. âI don't know⌠years⌠but my mother brought me here herself. So⌠it's not like I have a home to go to.â
---
Despite the extraordinary circumstances, it did not go unnoticed that a boy had just told Beck her name was pretty. âThanks.â She blushed in spite of herself, and was briefly glad she was in a space she (assumed) she could not be seen from. At least not by this boy. She was suddenly acutely aware that someone might actually be watching - and scanned the room to see if there were cameras or something. Trying all at once to ignore what was happening and take in all the surroundings and details she could.
âWhat do you mean, get airway between the -â She gulped, not wanting to say the word cells just yet. â-rooms?â She ended, a hand lifting up instinctively to touch the walls, feel for air coming through. Still processing what he said about studying, stressors, and pain, she remained quiet as she let her fingers gently graze the wall, lost in thought.
She was pulled from that reverie only because he said heâd been there years and his mother had put him there in the first place. Her heart ached for him, and the room swelled up with that familiar pang of emotional pain, loneliness, and heartbreak. âThat - that sucks. Iâm sorry.â She said, unable in her innocence and youth to think of - or at least, be somewhat brave enough - to use a stronger word.
---
âUh, they say I can mentally manipulate pheromones⌠so I could help you relax⌠literally.â He leaned into the wall, knowing it would be useless without tools.
âIt's- okay, I guess.â Roman went silent for a moment. The outside world might find more to feel bad about than he did. It was not like his mother changed any, her decision was within her character. And the torture, well, it was his norm now. They were, at least, allowed to talk to others.
Pushing back those thoughts, he shook his head. âWe can make it through. Don't good guys always make it out?â Roman had to tell her something positive. He did not know if there was an end, but he remembered movies and tv shows that always had the good guys win. It was yet to be determined if he was a good guy, but he was still young.
---
âWhatâs a pheromone?â Beck was just twelve, almost thirteen, but she hadnât quite learned what all that was in science class yet. Or if she had, she hadnât been paying attention. Maybe she should have, and she was sure the longer she was here the more she wished she had paid attention in school, or been a better daughter, stayed at home learning instead of heading out into the world where so many awful things could happen. Like being kidnapped from a mall parking lot. By police.
It struck a chord, though. They sayâŚ. âThey said I can, um, I donât remember the words but I can feel everyoneâs emotions, or make them feel mine. And if I get too emotional, I uhâŚâ She struggled to think back on what happened, on what she felt as they entered here, remember what they had specifically said. âSomething about making earthquakes. Thatâs what I heard someone saying to someone else when they were bringing me here.â She had no idea what that all meant, even though some of it made sense.
Like feeling other peopleâs emotions. Was that what that all was? Sheâd thought she was moody or particularly sensitive, that puberty was making her more wildly emotional than she should have been. Thatâs what her mom had been telling her, anyway. Now that she thought about it, she felt just as calm, maybe a touch inquisitive, just as much as she felt terrified and lonely. Was that him? His calm? His curiosity? Could what they said actually be true?
âGood guys should always win⌠but I donât know if Iâm good. I got arrested for - apparently causing a riot, I guess - and then brought here. Doesnât that make me bad?â
---
Being brought up with an uptight, scientist mother might have influenced his level of knowledge of the biological process for his age group. Roman did not know it was not something others his age would know about. âA pheromone is a chemical released by the body that affects behaviour.â
Hand placed against the thin padding of the wall and brows furrowed, Roman chewed on his lips. âYou can feel others emotions? I can see why they put you next to me. And earthquakes? That's a strange mixtureâŚâ Either side of the wall and either side of the emotional manipulation spectrum. There were hints of his other powers, but nothing so strong as his Pheromone manipulation, so he did not offer up the other things he had overheard the scientists speak about.
âYou were arrested and then taken by the black vans, I don't think you're a bad guy or they wouldn't have cared.â Tapping the wall, he smiled. âNo matter what they say⌠you are not bad because of what you are. Plus⌠you're too cute to be one of the bad guys.â
---
âOh.â Just like emotions can affect behavior, just in different ways. Different modes to the same end. She thought about it, and realized they were probably in a section of people with similar powers, grouped up like they were all the same breed of dog or something. It was disturbing, but also comforting in a way. There were people like her, who could maybe help her understand what was happening. This boy, anyway, seemed to know quite a bit about all this stuff, anyway. About this place.
She snorted out a small laugh when he called her mixture of things odd, and a dirty balled up fist came up to wipe her tears away. âI think itâs more⌠connected than that. I hadnât thought about it before, but when I heard them all talking, I started to think about it and I donât just feel⌠people emotions. I feel everything. Everything has an emotion. The trees outside, the air, the sky, dirt and sand and grass and flowers. They all feel. I feel all of that.â
So maybe, when she was upset⌠was she making the ground upset? Was the earth responding to her emotions? That seemed absurd, and Beck quickly shook off the thought. Besides, there were other things to think about - mystery boy on the other side of the wall had just called her cute and she barked out another laugh. âYou canât even see me! Hey how old are you anyway, Roman?â She asked, having been completely unobservant on her way in and had no idea there were even people nearby.
âHey, Roman?â She called, hand placed softly on the wall where she could hear his voice most clearly. âThanks.â
---
âIt has to be overwhelming to feel all of that.â Roman couldn't imagine it. Whenever there was emotions he did not want to feel, his powers kicked in and adjusted his levels to keep his response low. He could make others feel things intensely or subtly, but he did not know how they actually felt- let alone how the plants and animals felt along with it.
The large variety of abilities that might affect the human body and their emotional state made for an easy, if not complicated section of the facility. It would be only logical to have everyone split up for easier access when doing specific experiments. Cordelia had not been his first neighbour in that room, but she was definitely the most interesting. The last person did not have enough power to deal with the level of experimentation this section went through.
âI can't see you now, but they were bringing me back from my tests when you were brought in. So, there.â He chuckled. âI'm going to be fourteen in November⌠but I think they donât shift where we are sectioned until we are 18.â He knew it was not an asked question, nor necessary information, but his thoughts over his new neighbour came over his lips easily.
âYeah?â Roman smiled, something he did not do often here. âYou donât need to thank me, Delia. Itâs nice to have someone to talk to also.â
---
âSometimes, yeah.â She agreed. It had been overwhelming, but her powers were still underdeveloped, just starting out. They had potential, apparently, or she assumed she wouldnât have been taken here. Potential to do what, though? From what little she had overheard, she wasnât sure she wanted to know all she could do. It seemed awfully destruction. Did that make her a bad person, then, if not the arrest? If her abilities could only harm, instead of help?
Leaning her head to rest against the wall, she blushed again. She couldnât have looked nice - she was in some kind of jumpsuit theyâd provided, her hair was a mess, and she knew her make-up was still smeared all over her face (a lot of make-up, really, because what twelve year old knew how to properly apply make-up? Even the youtube videos werenât overly helpful). Still, heâd thought to call her pretty and whether he meant it or not, it was nice. A small light of something kind in such a dark and terrible place.
âIâm turning thirteen⌠well, I donât know what day it is, but my birthday is July 13th. So, soon I think.â The big 1-3, turning into a teenager instead of a pre-teen and sheâd be here. No one would celebrate her birthday with her. She highly doubted theyâd give her cake or sing her happy birthday or even acknowledge that it was her birthday. All over again, she felt depressed. An overwhelming, crushing sort of feeling.
It was reassuring to hear that she wouldnât be moved, though, until she was - oh God, would they really keep her here until she was eighteen? Or longer? Would she be stuck here forever? The panic hit her all over again and she did her best to stifle fresh cries. âYeah. I mean, I guess it could be worse, you know? We could be stuck here with no one else.â
---
A teenage-boy who had very little normality in his life for the last four years did not really know how make-up worked either, and sure she had been crying and screaming and panicking, but that did not change the reaction he had. The fact that his own powers did not go off in response to her panic in any direction was a surprise. Or maybe the had? The overflow of panic had hit him and then dulled. The feelings in the room next to him were being felt but lessened. The placement of her next to him without the barriers of technology keeping their powers in place might have been an experiment in its own right- something neither might notice as long as they stay but notes would be taken.
âHappy birthday,â he whispered. Birthdays would not be celebrated, other than in the data they took. Days blended, the worse days of the experiments always felt like months, and the best days felt like weeks. The only way to tell the day came from either catching a glimpse of the office calendars or paying attention to the schedules of the workers. Roman knew when his thirteenth birthday had been purely because the amount of tests had increased to compare him with others in his age group.
âWe could be stuck in the testing rooms.â He gave a soft laugh. âYou should get some sleep. I know I need some.â His body was aching and his posture had failed him as he slipped down the wall in exhaustion. Somewhere above them a vent between the rooms opened. In his exhaustion, he released calming pheromones, expanding across the room and into the next. A small chill for the young, but a dampening of the intensity they experienced in themselves.
---
âThanks.â In response this time to the wishes of a happy birthday, even though there was nothing to celebrate. Not really. Still, it was nice that sheâd hear it at least once. Wrapped back up in her own thoughts during the brief silence, Beck couldnât help but wonder what was in store for her. Sheâd been wondering that same question before - thirteen, seventh grade, hormones, emotional changes - it had all seemed so scary before. Now, she wondered if sheâd ever go home. If her family really wanted her. If sheâd make it out of here alive.
When Roman suggested sleep, she snorted out a sad laugh. How could she possibly sleep? It felt, to her, like her abilities were on high. There were guards she could feel, bored and frustrated. People buzzing about the newest addition, some vein of excitement and disgust all at the same time. But just as suddenly as she felt like there would be no way to sleep, all those other emotions seemed to dampen. She almost couldnât feel them at all.
âMm, yeah.â She agreed, yawing in spite of herself. âGoodnight, Roman. Talk to you tomorrow.â There was no way she was getting up from the corner, and she slid down further and fell asleep, one hand still gently touching the wall between them.