Chapter Text
All it had wanted was a break.
Of course it knew it wouldn't get one, it didn't deserve things, it wasn't supposed to want things in the first place - but it had thought - which it wasn't supposed to do either - that now that Master's employees had gotten bored of it, it might get a little break. Just a little one before it was packed away and taken back to its cage.
But apparently not, because footsteps were coming.
It didn't recognize those footsteps, and that alarmed it. More alarming still was the fact that they were unaccompanied. Whoever was down here, Master wasn't with them. Did they even have permission? No, no, of course they didn't, they were here to steal it, Master was going to find them and kill them like he killed Gertrude and it would be all its fault -
The door opened, and, awful curiosity getting the better of it as always, it lifted its head. Its heart sank at the look of shock and horror on the unfamiliar man's face.
He might as well already be dead.
"Oh, Christ…" the man said. He approached it tentatively. It squeezed its eyes shut and slammed its head back down to the floor. It was supposed to call for Master, it would be in so much trouble if it didn't call for Master - but if it could convince this person to go away maybe Master would never know - but Master always knew - "Are… Are you… okay?"
It bit its tongue, wishing for its muzzle, for its Master. It would be so much easier if it didn't have to choose to be silent. The man sounded so scared and confused it hurt, and it had no idea what to do.
The man let out a watery, broken laugh. "Ah, no, I… I suppose not. God, what am I gonna tell Elias…"
Elias.
It wasn't supposed to know things, but it knew this, had picked it up accidentally from Master's conversations with his friends.
Elias was Master's name.
He was going to go to Master, to tell him about it, about the awful thing suffering in the tunnels, as if he didn't already know, as if he would help it.
And he was going to die.
It pushed itself up onto its knees and shook its head, staring pleadingly at the man even though it wasn't supposed to make eye contact, because it had to tell him, he was not safe, Master didn't like strangers interfering with his property, he had to go and never say a word.
"What?" the man asked. "You… you know…"
It took a second for horror to settle over the man's face.
Then he turned and ran.
It hated itself for feeling betrayed.
When Martin finally made it back to the stairwell, he nearly collapsed.
Nope, nope, nope, he was not cut out for this, this was not in the job description. Whatever the fuck was going on here, Martin wanted no part in it.
Well. Too late for that now, he supposed. Fuck.
Shaking hands barely managing to press the buttons, he dialled 999 and held the phone to his ear. "Hi," he said instinctively when the operator picked up. "So, I'm at work, and I, um, there's tunnels? I found tunnels, under the building, and there's… there's a person down here, and…"
Martin struggled for the words to sum up what he'd seen. The gaunt, scarred figure bent over themself on the ground with a collar around their neck, covered in layers of bruises and what looked to be marks from a whip. The awful, despairing, resigned look in their eyes when they saw him, like they had been there for a very long time - the terror in their eyes when he had mentioned Elias. The fluids he had seen leaking out of them when they sat up, partly blood but not entirely - Martin's stomach churned.
"They're hurt," Martin managed. "Really bad. I think - someone's been hurting them for a while, they're - they're naked, and all banged up, and they wouldn't talk to me - I'm at the Magnus Institute, the Archives, you have to come now. Don't believe anything Elias says, I think he has… I don't know, but they were scared when I said his name. Just go straight to the stacks. Ask for Michael if you need help, it'll show you. The hatch is under the rug."
"Sir, please stay calm. Is there any immediate danger?" the operator asked.
Martin spluttered. "Immediate danger? There's a person down here, clearly traumatized, who knows what's happened to them -"
"Is anyone in danger of being actively hurt?"
Martin took a deep breath. They were just doing their job. "No," he said, ignoring the part of him that whispered saying yes would get them here quicker. He was pretty sure lying to the police was a crime and did not want to find out the hard way.
"Roger," the operator said, pleasantly calm in a way that made Martin feel a bit insane. "I'll send officers as soon as I can. Are you somewhere safe?"
"I certainly hope so!" Martin snapped. "I'm in the tunnels, near the entrance."
"Good. Please stay on the line."
Martin looked anxiously behind him. "Do I have to?" he asked. "I was going to go back and keep them company, but I won't get cell service that far in."
"Sir, I must advise you to remain where you are and stay on the line. Do not engage with the unknown individual. Police will be there shortly."
"Are you kidding?" Martin took a further series of deep breaths. They don't know how bad it is, they didn't see them, they don't understand they couldn't possibly be a threat, and besides I'm not exactly qualified for any of this, not qualified for anything, am I, fuck I am so fired - "Look, there is a person in these tunnels who is very hurt and scared and has no idea what's happening, and if that were me I'd want someone to stay. So I'm going back."
"For your own safety -"
"Sorry," Martin said.
He hung up.
It wasn't alone for long before it heard those same strange footsteps coming back, much slower than they'd left. It tensed, listening for Master's footsteps, any indication that the stranger was being pushed along with a gun - but no, he was still alone.
The door opened again, and it looked up despite itself, again. The man still flinched at the sight of it, but his face was tighter, more controlled - like when Master was really, really angry and holding it back. Maybe he was Master's friend after all. Maybe he'd talked to Master and Master had let him use it. It pressed its hands firmly against the ground, fighting the urge to cover its head. If he wanted to punish it for looking at him - for trying to communicate with him, God, it was better behaved than that, wasn't it? - there was nothing it could do.
Instead of harsh words or blows, though, there was just a slight shuffle of movement. It peeked up for just a second to see the man sitting down beside it. He was tall and broad, with curly ginger hair and a smattering of freckles across his soft face. His expression was soft now too, and he looked… well, harmless.
(Then again, so did Fairchild.)
"Hi," the man said. "I'm Martin. What's your name?"
What a strange question. It didn't have a name. Why would it? It wasn't like it was a person. Sometimes Master called it his Archive - not to mention all the other, awful names he called it when it was bad - but those weren't names, not really. But Martin expected an answer… in the end, it settled for shaking its head.
"Oh." Something flitted over Martin's face. He had so many unfamiliar expressions. "Alright, you don't have to tell me. What about pronouns?"
It stared at him, utterly perplexed. What did parts of speech have to do with anything?
"You know," Martin prodded. "He/him, she/her, they/them, stuff like that. Which ones do you use?"
Oh, he was asking about its gender. Why did he keep acting like it was a person? It shook its head again.
Martin let out a huff. It could feel his frustration, and it dropped its head back to the ground - that feeling meant punishment was coming, and it had pressed its luck looking at him for far too long. "Oh - no, I'm sorry!" Martin said. He sounded oddly panicked. "I'm not mad. Just, this'd be a little easier if I had something to call you, you know?"
That made sense. It thought for a moment. It certainly wasn't presumptuous enough to make up a name for itself - if it deserved a name, it'd have one. But it could at least tell him what it was, since he clearly didn't get it. "Monster," it whispered. The word came out cracked and wrong; it had not spoken for a long time.
"Oh!" It chanced a peek up at Martin. He looked pleased. "Now we're getting somewhere. Could you repeat that? Sorry, I didn't catch it."
Martin was strange. It had messed up so many times by now and he hadn't punished it at all. Maybe he was waiting until it screwed up really badly so he could make it feel safe before piling the punishment on all at once - Prentiss did that sometimes. It tried again, but the word died in its throat.
"Maybe if you sit up?" Martin offered. "I think the floor's muffling you. Do you need help?"
That was a trick question if it had ever heard one. It pushed itself up so it was sitting back on its heels, proud of itself for not grimacing when the wounds on its arse made contact with its legs. "Monster," it said. It felt almost giddy; sure, it had only gotten so far because it hadn't been punished for all its transgressions, but it had managed to do something right! That didn't happen very often.
Martin's face fell, though, and its heart along with it. Was that not what he wanted? "What?"
It gestured at itself, not understanding why he wasn't understanding. "I'm a monster."
Martin looked… it didn't know how he looked. It hadn't seen that expression in a long time. Not angry or happy or something that fell into those categories, but something entirely different. He looked how it felt most of the time. It had forgotten humans could feel like that too.
"No," he said. It cringed back, flattened itself to the floor again in apology. Now it was sure to be punished. If it was lucky, he'd explain what it had done wrong first. "No!" he shouted, and it bit its tongue to keep from whimpering. Had its supplication made him more upset? "No," his voice came again, but gentle. It tried to relax itself; usually it was only spoken gently to when it was being fucked. Maybe that was its punishment. All in all, it could be far worse; it was still loose from Master's friends and wouldn't hurt that much. "No, you -" Martin took a deep breath, and it braced itself. "I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I just mean you're not a monster."
It… didn't know how to respond to that. It hadn't been trained to respond to that, or anything like it. This ran counter to everything that had been trained into it. It looked up at Martin again, bewildered and a little scared.
"You're not a monster," he repeated - still gently, still without making any move to fuck it, or even touch it. "You're a person. You're a person."
Oh. That explained why he wasn't hurting it. He genuinely thought it was a person. But how couldn't he tell? It was so obvious; everyone said so. The last time someone pretended it was a person had been Gertrude, and…
Oh. Oh, God.
Martin wasn't with Master. He hadn't gotten permission. He was going to try to steal it like Gertrude had, and he was going to die, Master was going to kill him in front of it and he had been so kind -
"Oh - no, it's okay, it's okay!" Martin said, sounding not at all okay. "Breathe, okay? Breathe."
Somehow, the absurdity of the order alone was enough to shock it out of its panic. It was already breathing; of course it was. Even monsters had to breathe. Did he not realize it was breathing? Maybe he just wasn't very observant. Wait, no time! "You have to go," it said, pushing itself back onto its knees. "Master will kill you."
Martin's expression didn't change, and frustrated terror pulsed through it. How could he not understand? "I called the police," he said. "Elias, that's - who you're talking about, right?" It nodded. "He doesn't know I'm here. The police are on their way. They're going to protect us, and they're going to arrest Elias, and you will never have to see him again."
Tears pricked at its eyes. This was all far too much. Never see Master again? Who would tell it what to do, make sure it didn't hurt anyone? It didn't know how to live without an owner. At least there had been signs before Master Leitner had sold it, indications that something was about to change. This was just too sudden. Would Martin keep it, or would he just hand it over to the police, and what would they do with it? And why was Master being arrested anyway? He hadn't done anything!
"It's okay," Martin said, sounding slightly more okay. "Look at me."
The order ran counter to all its training, but it was an order. It looked at Martin and saw… something. The same thing Gertrude had worn in her stance, but less steely, less cold.
"Trust me," he said. "You're going to be alright."
Two sets of footsteps sounded down the hall; a voice yelled "Clear!" It dove to the ground again. Neither voice was Master, but it knew this was still the safest pose to be in. "It's alright," Martin said, voice calm and soothing. "That's the police. They're here to save you."
Trust me. That was what Master Leitner used to say, usually right before he hurt it a lot. But Martin didn't sound a bit like Master Leitner when he said it. He sounded… sincere. That was the word. Sincere.
It didn't know what being saved meant for something like it. A new owner? Maybe Martin? It hoped, selfishly, that Martin would want it. He seemed very kind. He would have to learn how to give orders, though, and how to punish it when it was bad, and he didn't seem like he would enjoy that like Master did. It was a lot of work to keep a monster.
The footsteps were getting louder. It wanted to press its hands over its ears - but it hadn't been ordered to - but it didn't even take orders from Martin - it was all so confusing. "It's alright," Martin repeated. "I promise."
It wanted very badly to trust Martin.
The door burst open. "Police!" someone screamed. "Hands on your head!" It obeyed instinctively.
"Hey - you're scaring them!" Martin protested. It wondered who them was.
Someone new crouched down in front of it. "Hey," the voice said. "You okay?"
That was two people in one day that had asked if it was okay. How strange. It still didn't know how to respond, though; just cringed and pressed its head to the floor in hopes that they would take pity on it.
"Come on now, sit up." That was an order - and combined with the gentle tone, that probably meant they wanted to fuck it. It sat back on its knees and spread its legs, just in case. Apparently that was wrong, though, because the person - a woman with choppy blonde hair and a strange glint in her eyes - sucked in a breath. "Jesus…"
"They don't know their name," Martin said. He hadn't moved from his position beside it. It was grateful, though it still didn't know who he was talking about - was it itself? "I - fuck, I don't know if they have a name. They just… called themself a monster."
"Right." The woman nodded, determined, an air about her that reminded it horribly of Gertrude when she'd tried to steal it. She tried to look it in the eye, but it knew better than to fall for it and kept its eyes firmly fixed on the ground. "Can you stand?"
It hesitated. Sometimes Master's friends would word orders like friendly suggestions, and Master Leitner had used to do it all the time. But it hadn't stood in so long - when it wasn't in its cage or being used, it was expected to crawl. It honestly wasn't sure if it could stand. It was sure that it would be in so much trouble with Master if it tried. But if Master was getting arrested, it wouldn't have to worry about that anymore… It looked up hesitantly. Unsure of how to voice all its concerns succinctly, it simply asked, "Master?"
The woman grimaced. "Elias?" she asked. "Elias Bouchard, is that your master?"
It nodded. Her face twisted in a snarl, and a horrible new possibility occurred to it - this was a test, Master had staged its theft to see what it did, and it failed, it betrayed him, it sold him out so it could be taken away - it couldn't even go back to prostrating itself on the ground because the woman was in the way. It just squeezed its eyes shut and dug its nails into its head.
"Basira," the woman called, voice practically a growl. "Elias Bouchard is under fucking arrest." Suddenly her voice dropped into something far more gentle - "Don't do that, love, here." She touched it, and it was too overwhelmed to keep itself from flinching, but she only lifted its hands up, made it stop scratching itself. Of course; nobody would want to buy it if it was too damaged, and it was already damaged quite enough. "I'll help you stand if you can't."
Feeling absolutely pitiful and still somewhat terrified this was somehow a test, it accepted the arm that wrapped around its shoulders. "Sorry," it mumbled when it felt the sleeve of her uniform make contact with its fresh lashings. Master and his friends always hated when it bled on them.
"It's alright," she said. She pulled it to its feet - she was strong, it realized, so much so it was almost dizzying. It swayed back, but then there was pressure on its other side as Martin rushed to support it. "Let's get you home."
Its head was spinning. Home? It didn't have a home of its own. Home was with Master. And they were taking Master away… had they already found someone to buy it? Or was the police officer keeping it? Or Martin?
It suddenly wanted very badly for this to all be a test, for Master to snap his fingers and the theft to fall apart, for him to punish it for disobeying him no matter how badly. That would be so much less terrifying than this.
But the police officer was nudging it forward, and Martin was too, and if Master wasn't going to be there to give it orders anymore, it had to obey them.
So it did.