—
The testing begins the next morning.
As Bennett retrieves Seth from the small, monitored room they'd left him in to sleep, so too does Marlowe knock on Joshua's door to retrieve him. Yards of concrete separate the two, yet as Seth blinks groggily awake, and as Joshua turns his head at the sound of the knock, they both feel the absence of the other in a keen, twisting pang.
Marlowe waits for a moment for a reply. When they don't receive one, they unlock the door and enter on their own, cautiously ducking inside.
"Joshua?"
Marlowe stops a step in the doorway as the light clicks on, illuminating the room and Joshua on his bed. He's already seated upright, his hair tousled and his clothes rumpled, the same clothes he'd worn into the institution last night. The change of clothes the facility had provided him along with the room have been tossed vehemently over the ground and left to collect cold dust.
Joshua raises his gaze to Marlowe with a hollow, heavy look. Dark circles weigh under his eyes, and a dull burning fog sits in the back of his brain, behind every blink. He hasn't slept at all.
He had tried, for a bit.
That said, his nerves had already been rubbed raw explaining everything to Marlowe, and his head wouldn't stop running in circles, even after the light had shut off.
As soon as Marlowe had left, he regretted everything he'd admitted almost immediately. He shouldn't have shared so much with Marlowe; he's not used to sharing so much with another person, let alone an almost-stranger. Was it a good idea? Can he really trust Marlowe? He doesn't know, and it's eating him up inside. He'd been desperate for help, eager to snatch up Marlowe's offer before it disappeared. But was he too eager?
As he'd laid there on his back that night, staring up at the dark ceiling, he realised something more. Something more corrosive to his last strings of composure. He realised that it was the first time he'd tried sleeping apart from Sundo since before... everything. And he missed him. He missed him something awful, and the feeling still hasn't faded. It's like an empty hole between his lungs, and he had struggled to breathe around it as the darkness of the small room had pressed in on him.
He'd thought of everything he hadn't wanted to. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't sleep.
Marlowe regards him now quietly, a subdued expression settling over them. Taking in Joshua's raggled look and the clothes thrown on the ground, Marlowe hesitates for a prolonged moment.
"I hate to tell you this..." They say finally, "but you're going to have to change into those." Marlowe drops their gaze to the discarded scrubs.
That's what the clothes look like, in all honesty. Recycled, gray hospital scrubs. Joshua looks at them in disgust.
"I can't even keep my own clothes? Anything else you'd like to take from me while you're at it? You've already taken my freedom, and you've taken Sundo. So by all means." Joshua glowers across the room at the assistant scientist.
His bitterness simmers just beneath the surface, escaping through the cracks his sleeplessness has left in his composure. Marlowe stands at the door, staring him down with a carefully guarded expression.
With the same sort of careful diplomacy, Marlowe says, "I know this has to be difficult for you, you made that clear last night. I completely understand. I promised I'd try to help you, Joshua, but I can't do much unless you cooperate. You have to change into those, then we can get you something to eat and we can start the day."
Joshua frowns, turning over his options unhappily. Finally, he looks desolately at the rejected clothes.
"What do you mean by... 'starting the day'?"
To his surprise, the start of a knowing smile pulls at Marlowe's lips.
"You'll see," they assure him. "Just get changed."
With this, Marlowe backs out of the room again, closing the door behind them to give Joshua the space he needs to change.
* * *
"Wakey, wakey, eggs and spacey!" Bennett exclaims as he slides open the door to Seth's room.
Groaning, Seth pushes himself upright on the mat which has served as his bed. He has sleep lines creasing one side of his face, and his hair sticks up against one side of his head. The gray scrubs that Bennett had made him change into before bed still feel a little stiff, and they still smell like the plastic they were wrapped in.
The space Seth has been relegated to is more of a compartment than a room, truthfully. It's small and tucked away, though not much farther down the hall from Bennett's lab, as though any farther than that would be too much for the scientist to bear.
This thin sleeping mat is the only other thing in the room, aside from the metal loop in the wall just above Seth's head. A metal chain clinks at his wrist as he moves, and it sways all the way up to the locked carabinier fastening it—and Seth—to the loop in the wall.
Seth settles a look on Bennett that is equal parts wariness and displeasure. There's a crick in his neck from sleeping weirdly, and his bicep still aches from the needle Bennett had pricked him with last night. He still feels a little lightheaded and shaky from the three vials of blood he's lost to the scientist.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Bennett says, stepping into the small concrete room. He crouches in front of his bleary-eyed son, smiling. "Today's the day we really get to see what you can do."
Seth stops short, his heart catching with his inhale. All sleepiness leaves him with one uttered phrase.
"What I can...?" He repeats, nothing but a hoarse breath.
Today, Bennett says, today is the day they see what he can do. But what will they, the scientists, do?
They're going to dissect him.
He knows it.
This is it.
He'd slept last night, but not very well. Fitfully, he'd dreamed that he'd been back at Rebecca's house with Joshua, sleeping beside him. Only, in his dream, he'd woken up thinking he was tied down to an operating table, Bennett and the other scientists above him with their paper masks and surgical tools, ready to dissect him in search of what made him tick.
He'd awoken for real in a cold sweat, gasping and scrambling for Joshua. He was met only with the rattling of a handcuff chain and knuckles that scraped and bruised against the wall.
He doesn't know how he managed to fall back asleep again, but the next thing he knew Bennett was waking him up with cheer he can hardly stand.
This is it! He thinks now around his racing, tripping heart. Why did I ever think we could get out of here? I've been so naive!
Seth swallows around the clammy lump in his throat, grappling with the need to keep his fear from showing in front of Bennett.
"Hey," Bennett says more quietly when Seth remains still in silence. "What does that face mean? Seth... You look like I've just told you someone's died. It's alright. No one's died. You're not going to die. We'd never let that happen to you. Are you worried about our tests? Don't be! Look, look, you'll feel better when you've got some breakfast in you. Come on."
Bennett jostles Seth's shoulder, pulling him upright a little further. It startles a breath out of Seth, and he feels like his heart starts beating again. He looks up at Bennett doubtfully, yet desperately hopeful. Bennett has never been reassuring before, yet Seth finds himself clinging tightly to his reassurances anyway.
He holds fast to this hope as Bennett procures a small key from the depths of his pocket. The scientist had told him when he'd put him to bed last night that the cuff was just a safety precaution, and Seth had wanted to argue that it didn't make him feel any safer. He knew, though, that to argue that would be useless. It's not him they're trying to make feel safer.
Bennett takes Seth's right hand again now, undoing the metal clasp from his wrist with a click. As soon as the cuff falls away, Seth rubs at his wrist, trying to get the circulation flowing back to his fingertips again.
Bennett watches him a moment, before rocking back onto his heels and standing up. He's thoughtful, as usual, and Seth tries to ignore his observing stare.
"Say..." Bennett begins finally, that fascinated glint sparked once more in his eyes. "What do you eat exactly?"
Seth allows himself a moment to breathe again, regaining his wits. With a settling, sinking sort of weariness, he prepares himself for a full day of questions like these.
* * *
So far, it doesn't seem like Bennett was lying.
The day begins after a surprisingly wholesome breakfast, which seems to have been pulled directly from the Food Pyramid's recommended portion size for each food group. Seth might have even enjoyed it, if not for the scientist two tables down from him clearly taking notes on everything he was eating. He tried to ignore him.
Afterwards, Bennett is joined by an entourage of white-coat-clad colleagues whom Seth has never seen before, and they begin their testing. Despite his apprehensions, Bennett's reassurances hold true. The scientists begin with all sorts of easy tasks and harmless tests.
They shine light in his eyes to see how his pupils contract and dilate.
They take him to a small, isolated room with a chair and a small machine with many wires protruding from it. Seth's heart leaps into his throat at the sight of it, but they only sit him down in the chair and give him a pair of headphones that press into his head behind his ears. The scientists retreat into another room behind dark tinted glass, and they ask him to indicate when he can hear the steadily diminishing beeping tones that the headphones make behind each ear. This goes on for a while, until he can no longer hear the high- and low-pitched tones. Then the scientists return to let him out of the room. Seth finds himself surprised that that's all they wanted from him in that scary small room.
They take him to a far larger room next: the aircraft hanger, Alien Air. The huge space is cleared of everyone but Seth and Bennett's gaggle of researchers, who Seth peeks around to peer up at large, sleek aircraft he's never seen anywhere else, in movies, the air, or otherwise. The scientists talk to him about what they want to do next, but he doesn't catch everything they're saying, distracted by the hulking steel bay doors at one end of the hangar.
Wistfully, he gazes at the doors, imagining the free desert that must be beyond. With a snapping hand in front of his nose, a scientist startles him back into paying attention.
The scientists set him loose on the hangar and ask him to run as fast as he can from one side to the other. As he does, they measure his speed and time with all sorts of devices, from a band at his wrist to cameras on either end of the hangar. He comes back panting, endorphins rushing through him, and he finds Bennett grinning at him with something that looks a lot like pride.
They ask him to run around for as long as he can next, and he does. He jogs for what feels like hours, until finally one of the scientists tells him to stop. He does. Though his limbs feel achy and tired, he feels like he could have gone on for longer if they'd asked.
The most memorable room of all comes when they take him deep, deep into the institution, to a large room occupied by rows of cylindrical glass tanks. Each is filled to the top with water, and metal steps lead up to a grated gangway that traverses the space above all of maybe a half-dozen tanks.
Light shines from beneath each tank, causing blue light to waver over the dark walls and floors of the room. Each one is empty, and Seth wonders if they were always this way or if the scientists made sure to empty them before they brought him here.
He stops dead in his tracks when one of the scientists tells him to strip. He stares at her blankly for a long moment, and Bennett's colleague just stares back, waiting. Seth turns his gaze to Bennett next, looking to him with incredulity, looking for him to tell him he doesn't have to. Yet Bennett is looking at him expectantly as well.
It hits him like a stone in his gut. Of course none of these scientists care about his reservations or dignity. Those things are reserved for human beings, which he is not. To them, he's just a creature. A subject. Something to be studied.
Nausea rises in his throat as he looks amongst the group of unfamiliar, unsympathetic faces closing him in. He throws a searching, pleading look to Bennett once more behind him, and Bennett regards him curiously. It takes a moment, but Seth can see the instant Bennett finally recognises Seth's uncomfortable hesitance. He doesn't speak up right away; rather, he averts his eyes awkwardly.
"Seth," the first scientist addresses him again, pressing. The name sounds wrong on her lips, as though she doesn't know how to use it right. As though referring to him by a name is wrong in itself.
"You can keep your trunks on, if you like," Bennett finally supplies clumsily, unsure of his proposition.
The attention of the other scientists swings from Seth to Bennett. For a fraught moment, Seth worries they're going to challenge him.
None of them do. It's because Bennett is in charge, Seth realises with a start, which is quickly overwhelmed with rushing relief.
Still, he's reluctant to change out of his clothes in front of all these prying eyes, but he doesn't have much choice. He's not usually embarrassed when it comes to nudity—it's just a body, after all—but the unabashed stares of these scientists are making him freshly uncomfortable. He's grateful to Bennett for at least letting him keep something on.
When it comes to his shirt, however, he hesitates halfway through. His name tag necklace shifts against his chest, reminding him of its presence. He'd been so careful about hiding it so far; he doesn't want Bennett touching it or asking nosy questions about it, or otherwise soiling it with knowing about it.
Yet now, Seth doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to take it off and risk losing it to the dark floor or the discovery of one of these hounding researchers. How should he hide it?
He hesitates too long to make a decision. The scientists are watching him curiously again, and in the end, he pulls his shirt over his head, leaving the necklace where it is and hoping, with luck, they won't bother him about it.
Thankfully, they don't. Not right away, at least. They're too distracted by gawking at the markings curling over his skin to notice the thin silver chain and tag at his throat. Seth looks at the floor, not wanting to see what the looks on their faces are, not even—especially not—Bennett's.
They want to see how well he is in water, one of the scientists eventually explains as they lead him up onto the gangway. The grated metal floor bites into the soles of his feet as he walks, and he's almost glad when they sit him down at the edge of one of the tanks. The water is icy against his skin as he puts his legs in, and he shudders.
He has to pause to let one attach odd wireless sensors to his skin. He's sure the researcher will notice the necklace now, that it'll be the end of it for sure. Yet, if she does notice it, she doesn't mention it.
The scientists have him swim from one end of the pool to the other. When he comes back, flushed and shivering, they tell him to take a deep breath and push him under. The roar of the water presses against his ears, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't last long before his lungs begin burning, and he fights against the metal contraption holding him under.
After a frightening moment, the arms release and he rushes to the surface, gasping and coughing.
Bennett is waiting for him as he comes up, crouching at the edge of the pool. It takes Seth a long moment to notice; first, he has to catch his breath, and he tries to stop his teeth from chattering. He's shivering, holding his arms around himself as he finally looks up at the gangway.
He grimaces as he spots Bennett, who is looking at him in that thoughtful way of his again. The watery blue light dances over his expression from below.
"Twenty-five seconds," one of the other scientists informs him, and Bennett distractedly acknowledges the report. He doesn't take his eyes off Seth.
"What?" Seth asks through chattering teeth, his frustration biting.
"Oh, I was just thinking about this," Bennett remarks.
He reaches down into the water, and Seth's heart stops beneath those fingers as Bennett lifts the small tag up on its chain. It glints in the light of the pool, and Bennett leans in to regard it as he turns it over in his fingers.
"Sundseth," he reads aloud. "Is this your name? Sundseth?"
He tries the name out again thoughtfully, and Seth squirms, the water lapping over his shoulders. Water drips from his hair and his eyelashes, and he fights the urge to tear the necklace from Bennett with wet fingers. Apprehension trembles up him more deeply than the cold.
"Did that boy give this to you?" Bennett asks finally, his voice lowered. "What was his name... Joshua? I don't understand him. He's your boyfriend, yes? That I really don't understand. You're this fantastic scientific achievement, and he's just... some kid. He's not even that interesting."
Hot annoyance cuts through the frigid slough of the water. Seth presses blue, trembling lips together, glowering at Bennett.
"With due respect," Seth replies slowly. "You're not in any position to criticise or press your opinion on my love life, Bennett."
Bennett considers this. Tensely, Seth watches him, waiting for him to assert some sort of right as his father and press further into this uneasy subject.
"Okay," Bennett says, startling Seth. "I still don't think I like you and him, but—" He catches the look in Seth's eyes, and rightfully interprets it, saying placatingly, "that's none of my business. I do disagree, but I'll leave it. You can stop with the eyes now. Will you get him out?"
This he says to the assistant scientists behind the pool, and soon gloved hands are hooking under Seth's arms, hauling him up. He scrambles away from them as soon as he can and stumbles backward into Bennett.
He turns quickly on reflex, the grated gangway biting into his feet once more. He's met with a warm towel to the face. Bennett tosses it over Seth's head and shoulders, and Seth backs up from him, pulling it tight around him. He eyes each of the scientists warily, wondering what they could have overheard, what they have planned for him next, though they seem to take no heed of him for now.
"Come on," Bennett says, gesturing him forward. "We've still got many more to get through today. Let's go."
Seth holds the towel more tightly around him with a sinking feeling of weariness.
* * *
Joshua crouches against the gritty concrete ground of the aircraft hangar, each gasp searing his lungs. Sweat slips down his forehead and drips from the tip of his nose, and he watches it hit the ground between his sneakers with blurred vision.
"I'm not the alien," he finally finds the breath to hiss, lifting his head to glare at Rosalyn and Marlowe. "So why am I running all these laps?"
The scientist and her assistant stand above Joshua, tablets in hand. For once, Rosalyn doesn't have her mug with her, but Joshua simply assumes this is because there's nowhere for her to set it down in here.
While Marlowe at least has the heart to look a little guilty when they glance at Joshua's current state, Rosalyn is unconcerned. The doctor has been having him run what is essentially the equivalent to the FitnessGram pacer test since his late breakfast, and Joshua's had enough of it.
Rosalyn is more interested in whatever notes she's collected on her tablet than Joshua himself as she answers. "Yes, well, you've had prolonged exposure with the alien, and we'd like to see if it's had any effect on you."
A muscle in Joshua's jaw clenches as he attempts to keep his frustration in check.
"It's not like he's contagious," Joshua grits, and he almost manages to sound as civil as he intends to. Almost.
"For all we know, he very well could be, Mr. Gonzalo." Rosalyn slants him a look.
He shudders under her heavy attention and shifts his weight, bitterly averting his eyes. Despite all his frustration, he can't bring himself to meet her gaze, fearing she'll see something in his that he doesn't want to give away.
Feeling the tension, Marlowe helpfully steps in. "After all, the first rule of science is to never rule anything out. An' besides—"
"Don't interrupt me, Robin," Rosalyn cuts Marlowe off with a perfunctory rebuke.
Joshua assumes 'Robin' must be Marlowe's first name. He watches as the assistant pales and snaps their mouth shut.
"Right, sorry, ma'am. Carry on," Marlowe mumbles quickly, stepping back. They hold their tablet tightly to their chest like that might shield them from further embarrassment.
"Yes, well. Where was I?" Rosalyn considers her tablet, heedless of the quailing reaction of her assistant. "Ah, yes. Of course."
Joshua's heart climbs into his throat as her gaze slips to him once more. She considers him for a long moment, before dropping a hand and holding it out in front of him. It's unmarred and ungloved: complete with mauve-painted nails and a wedding band around her ring finger.
Joshua edges back from the hand at first, despite its unassuming appearance, choosing instead to remain on the ground where he is. He regards the doctor with suspicion, as though she might somehow be concealing some ulterior villainy in her slightly aged hand. Yet she only stares him down, continuing to hold her hand steady between them until he reconsiders his obstinate mistrust, at least for now.
Reaching up, he clasps her hand in his own and pulls hard, leveraging himself upright. He's surprised to find that he doesn't unbalance Rosalyn, as she stands firm and unmoved. Immediately, as soon as he's on his feet, he drops her hand, taking a hasty, impolite step back, away from her. The doctor notices, though she doesn't comment.
Instead, she leans in and says, "You never did finish explaining to me the connection between you and the alien, Mr. Gonzalo. Do go on, please."
Joshua freezes. Dreadful apprehension replaces his blood in his veins, and he wants to be sick. He knew this was coming, and yet he still doesn't feel prepared for it.
Marlowe's words from last night creep back to him.
"'Tell the truth, but tell it slant.'" They had leaned close to whisper to him, as though there were ears everywhere, even in that small room of Joshua's. "Emily Dickinson."
At first, he thought they were fucking with him, and he had not been amused by the joke. But then they explained the significance of the 19th-century poet's quote, and Marlowe's meaning began to become more clear to him.
"You read poetry?" He'd asked, incredulous yet bemused.
"That's not the point here," Marlowe had shot back. "My point is: tell part of the truth, but not the whole truth. That way you can get away with not telling her everything you'd rather not without triggering your oh-so-saintly aversion to lying. Does this sound manageable?"
It hadn't, but Joshua had no other choice. They both had practiced trying to find the right explanation that worked for him for a good half-hour, until finally Marlowe just had to leave. Their absence would be soon too glaring, and Joshua was growing surly with weariness.
Joshua swallows thickly now, feeling like all that practice has evaporated from his head. He's now ever more aware of the weight of sleeplessness pressing against his skull, and he curses his own mental weakness.
He tries to find a good balance between meeting Rosalyn's intent, expectant stare and staring at his own shoes.
(Technically, however, they're not even his own shoes. Those, too, have been taken from him in favor of these unused, brandless white sneakers which fit him unsettlingly well and still smell like old cardboard.)
Joshua realises with a start that he's letting himself get distracted.
"I, um, well." He clears his throat, forcing himself to look Rosalyn in the eye. "Seth and I, we were close when we were kids," he explains carefully, turning over each word before he says it. "Really good friends, though we drifted apart for years after. We just recently found each other again, and we haven't really had time to reconnect.
"I..." He hesitates.
He knows Rosalyn is noting each of his words and actions; she won't forget any of them. He resists the urge to glance to Marlowe for support. Instead, he wracks his brain for the information Marlowe had told him last night he should definitely touch on, however way it comes out.
"I knew what he is, even then." He chokes out. He searches Rosalyn's gaze for her thoughts, but she gives away nothing but impassive interest. "He's not a bad alien. He's not bad at all." Joshua steps closer, the words beginning to tumble out of him of their own accord. He hears Marlowe take in a quiet breath at his side, though he doesn't spare them a look.
"He's done some bad things, yeah, but haven't we all at one point? Please treat him well, please. If you're keeping me here because you think you can use me against him, don't try. You won't—" He swallows, his voice feeling too small and too tight. "It wouldn't work."
He steps back as soon as he realises what he's said. Hot nerves race through him, and he wishes all at once that he would have just stayed silent, that he would have just refused to answer her question altogether.
Rosalyn is regarding him consideringly again with that unreadable look of hers, and Joshua is overwhelmed by the sure, awful knowledge that he's messed everything up for good now.
"Hmm," Rosalyn hums finally, betraying something that sounds quite like intrigue. "Thank you, Mr. Gonzalo. You've confirmed a suspicion of mine."
She doesn't say which, and Joshua's heart drops into his stomach.
"To answer that subtle accusation of yours: no, we're not keeping you here as a tool against your extraterrestrial companion. Though, I must say that's an intriguing concept. No," Rosalyn confirms, "you're here, Mr. Gonzalo, because you're a liability. As you've just confirmed, you know far too much for us to just leave you running about unchecked. We need you here almost as much as we need your friend. You've proven this already. You are very interesting... This won't be the last of our tests for you."
She smiles, a slow, terse thing that isn't at all comforting. In fact, it's just the opposite. Joshua feels like her words and her smile have pulled the floor out from under him.
"First, however," Rosalyn continues, her smile phasing out, replaced by a displeased once-over. "A shower. Yes, Marlowe, will you please show him where to go? We can do blood tests next, and maybe another one of these eloquent conversations as well. While you're out, I think I'll get myself some tea. All this talking has made me in dire need of a pot of chamomile."
She says this breezily to almost no one in particular and turns towards the door, trusting Marlowe to take care of her request. In her wake, Joshua is left rooted to the spot, feeling numb as he watches her leave. Her heels click on the way out and echo throughout the hangar until she's gone.
Marlowe and Joshua are left in awkward, crushing silence in her absence.
"So," Marlowe begins, shooting Joshua a cautiously optimistic look. "That went well."
Joshua wants scream, or run down the hangar into oblivion so he never has to face that woman again.
He curses himself for ever thinking he could face Rosalyn and not give something away that he shouldn't have. He doesn't even fully know everything he's revealed to her, yet he knows she's left with more information than he'd intended for her to.
Through gritted teeth, he chokes, "It did not."
.
.
.
I love it when Bennett tries on his dad shoes and Joshua tries to step out of his comfort zone! :-D
As for a personal update: as of today, I've officially graduated! 🎓
Things have still been busy, especially with relatives here for the graduation and all, but I'm doing my best!
Best wishes and a fantastic week to you all! Thanks for your patience and for reading!