WHITE. IT IS all she sees and all she has seen for almost three days now. White walls, white bedding, white clothes, and even white bandages. She only leaves her cell to shower, and that's it. Her meals consist of nasty hospital food that usually contain some kind of fruit sauce, a protein, and a stale roll of bread. Seriously, she can't even get a decent crescent roll or something?

She sits Indian-style on the cot, a permanent frown printed on her lips. She holds an apple in her right hand, tossing it up and catching it every few seconds. A wry, malicious smile twists at her lips, an idea forming in her mind. Is it useful? No. Is it fun? Yes. Will it make her look like she lost her marbles? Yes. Well, that's just cause for action.

She grips the apple tightly in her hand. Quinn raises her arm back before swinging it over her head, releasing the fruit and launching it at the glass. It collides with a thud, pieces splattering upon impact.

"I HATE YOU!" She screams at the glass, not even flinching at the fruit's small explosion.

No voice replies, but she feels some satisfaction from destroying something.

Quinn isn't sure how much time passes after that. Maybe a few hours, or maybe a few minutes; It could have been days for all she cared. All she knew, is that the door was opening. It is probably just for a shower, or maybe someone has come to clean the mess up. Either way, Quinn ignores them until they speak.

"Miss Vanderwall, you need to come with us, please," a soft, female voice says. Quinn looks up to see that woman, Katie, standing above her.

"So, what, you think calling me by some ridiculous formal title will make me feel better about this situation?" Quinn asks as she slowly rises from the cot. She takes her time stretching her muscles and popping her back before she turns to the woman.

"I, well, no, that's not--"

"Save it. I really don't care what you have to say, honestly. Just take me wherever I'm supposed to be." Katie stays silent, making a proud smirk appear on the girl's lips.

She follows the older woman, accompanied by guards on both sides, to an identical cell a few meters down from her's. She guesses that this is the one that the boy lives in, but she can't be sure. When they stop walking, it is in front of another woman in a lab coat. Quinn ignores her temporarily as she tries to peek into the cell. Her vision is blocked, however, by her angle to the glass window.

"Hello, My name is Dr. Hyung. I am assistant director to this program." The woman is short and petite. Her skin tone and facial features depict obvious oriental ancestry, but her age remains a mystery as a result. Quinn would probably guess mid thirties, but she could be wrong.

"Okay?" Quinn asks, drawing out the question.

The woman does not respond immediately, her countenance displaying obvious annoyance at the girl's attitude. "You will listen to my instructions, and you will do exactly what I say. Any insubordination will result in consequences. I trust we will not get to that point." Her tone is steady, not revealing any emotion.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Sure I will."

"Today you will introduce yourself to the Subject." Quinn's attention is immediately captured. "We will be observing the interaction closely while you..." she struggles for the right word. "...Get to know each other. There will be restrictions, however. He cannot speak, but he can hear you, just don't expect any responses. You will speak nothing of the outside world, especially nothing of current events. You may not touch him unless he approves of the action, and you may not speak of anything that could potentially be upsetting or cause strife. No profanity."

Quinn blinks slowly as she processes the information. It takes her only a few seconds to decide those rules are rubbish and she wouldn't be following them.

"Can he write?" Is Quinn's only response.

This seems to catch her off-guard. "I--yes, he can. Why do you ask?"

"Well," Quinn starts. "Its a way to communicate."

The others stare between each other for a breath before Katie speaks up. "That is possible," she says.

"No, it isn't," Dr. Hyung cuts in. "Writing utensils were not approved by the director--"

"Does it matter?" Quinn asks. "You want to see how he reacts, right? What better way than a reaction in his own words."

A moment passes in silence. "Fine. Get her a pen and notebook."

Words are spoken between the other adults, but Quinn tunes them out. Her attention wanders over to the white cell, more specifically the boy inside it. Apprehension pulls at her gut the longer she stares. According to what she has read of the Tekula Project, Theseus was quite volatile with anyone who wasn't Veronica. Is this boy the same way? He wasn't like that the last time she saw him. He seemed timid--afraid even--but does that completely dismiss the possibility?

"Are you guys sure this is sa--"

She is cut off by the guards grasping her arms and dragging her to the door of the foreign cell. Quinn gulps inaudibly as she is placed before it, the pen and paper placed in her unwilling hands. Cards are swiped and buttons are pushed before a resounding beep reaches her ears. The sound resounds in her head like a warning bell of caution. The heavy door is opened and Quinn is shoved in by a hard push between her shoulder blades. She stumbles inside as the door seals shut behind her.

Quinn's gaze is immediately caught by the boy in white. He is curled into a ball on the far side of the cot, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. The boy's head is tucked between his knees, snow white hair the only visible aspect of his facial features.

Quinn stands stock still in her place. She is wary of moving, as the boy already seems distressed. She doesn't wish to further disturb him. She swallows thickly, shifting her weight on shaky legs. Quinn is about to speak when he suddenly moves.

His head raises slowly, eyes narrowing in on her gradually. Surprise fills his countenance before it is masked by trepidation as he pulls his knees closer. Quinn takes a deep breath before she begins to speak, careful to do so softly.

"Hi."

The boy doesn't move.

"I um--I have something for you," she says, bringing forth the pen and paper. "Can I come closer?"

Subject Zero is not sure how to act. This is not at all normal. He hadn't expected to ever see the strange woman again, especially not in such good health. Thoughts of what had been her fate frequented his mind, but he pushed them away as soon as they entered. They were bad thoughts and they made him unhappy.

He almost forgets to respond to her question when she walks forwards anyways. Her steps are slow and non-threatening, her hands held out so he can see them. Zero doesn't move, choosing to observe rather than react. She places the pen and paper at the opposite end of the cot from where he sits before backing away slowly.

The strange woman smiles gently at him before placing herself crosslegged on the floor. The new difference in height is something the boy is grateful for; she is less threatening when he is on the higher ground.

"Listen, I don't want you to be afraid of me, alright?" She says quietly. "That notebook is for you to communicate to me with. Whatever you want to tell me, just write it down, okay?"

The way she worded her phrases was different from any other way he has heard commands. It was almost like she was asking his permission to do things, not commanding them. The unique change was something he was grateful for, but it made him unsure as to how he should respond. Was he okay with those terms? Yes, yes he was.

The boy slowly unravels himself to reach for the notebook. He grasps it gently, but almost drops it in his loose grip; his limbs are still shaky from the last treatments. The strange woman smiles again, seeming proud. Proud of him? No, probably not. Still, he wonders what has made her react in that way.

"Oh!" She exclaims, startling him a little. She smiles sheepishly, "I forgot to tell you my name. I'm Quinn."

Quinn sounded like a nice name, but he really wasn't sure. His knowledge of common names was few, but he still liked the name nonetheless. He nods slowly in response that he heard her.

"What's your name?" She asks innocently.

The notebook shakes in his trembling grasp. What should he tell her? Would she get upset if he told her he didn't have a name? Now more than ever, he wishes he had one.

After he lays the notebook back down, Quinn hesitantly retrieves it. It takes her a moment to read his words, the writing large and shaky like a kindergartener's. She instantly frowns at his words, her countenance turning into one of discreet angry.

"What do you mean you don't have a name?" She asks.

The boy ducks his head back behind his knees. He knew this was not going to be good. He has upset her, just like he does everyone else. Would she punish him like the others do? Would he get more treatments for answering incorrectly? He jumps as she stands up aggressively. She begins marching towards him as he cowers more into the wall. He closes his eyes, waiting for her to do something to him, but a strike never comes. Instead, he only hears her words before peering up at her.

"You didn't even give him a name?" She shouts at the glass. She can only see her reflection, but she knows they are on the other side, watching. "You've kept him here for how long? Weeks? Months? Years maybe? And you didn't give him a name?!"

For a moment, it is quiet, then a voice answers over the cell's speakers. "A name was not necessary for the Subject's development."

Quinn scoffs. "Sure, and that's such great reasoning. I'm going to name him."

"That's not permitt--"

"Blah, blah, blah. I recognize the counsel has made a decision, but given it's a stupid a-- decision I've elected to ignore it." Quinn smiles a mocking grin. She was able to break two of the rules at one time, and she is just getting started.

The boy knows she is speaking to the doctors on the other side, and that has him horribly afraid for her. No one speaks to them like that. He stands on shaky legs. This woman stood up for him, so he will stand up for her.

Quinn isn't aware of his presence until she feels his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist. His touch is so light, it is almost nonexistent. She turns her gaze up to his to see him shake his head. His gaze is pleading, distressed, which only makes her more perplexed. Only a few seconds ago he was cowering away from her, but now he seems to want her attention. She removes her gaze from the window to focus on him.

"What is it?" She asks him, eyebrows furrowing.

He releases her wrist to write in the notebook, which he then places in her grasp. She looks over the words before looking sorrowfully up at him.

Bad things.

"What bad things? What do you mean?" She asks.

Yelling makes bad things happen.

Quinn purses her lips, a frown settling over her countenance. Yes, her actions could result in consequences, but she is willing to take that risk. She looks back up at him, a determined stance settling in her bones.

"Maybe bad things will happen to me, but I don't care. From what I can tell, you have been through horrible things and I won't let that continue any longer. I will try my best not to let them hurt you, alright? I'm going to help you. I'm going to--"

Before any more can be said, the steal door opens and guards swarm the small space. The woman, Quinn, is jerked away from him, her arms pulled back and cuffed behind her. She kicks and screams at them as she is dragged from the cell, the door closing behind them.

The boy stands motionless for many minutes after that, too stunned by her words to do much else.

As surprising as it may seem, I am not dead.