The next days passed in a rhythm. His blood was drawn again and again, until the smell of antiseptic clung to him and his veins felt hollow. When he asked Papa why, the answer was always the same: They were making sure he wouldn't get worse. Nicholas lay there afterward, light-headed, wondering how losing so much of himself could make him better.
After about a week or so of eating, drinking, bathroom, and sleeping. Papa finally told him it was time to leave. Shakily, he tried to rise from the bed, but Papa rested his hand against Nicholas' torso, preventing him.
Carefully, he removed the needles while shaking his head as he reminded Nicholas, "The blindfold 015 I know it's been a while. You're not like everyone else, remember. Unless you're in your room, the test room, or playroom, you must have your blindfold on."
Staring at him, Nicholas' brows furrowed as he struggled to remember, his mind muddled by the uncooperative nature of his muscles this past week. The removal of the needles hardly phased him.
Leaning back against the pillows, he felt Papa's hand remove itself as he remembered why.
He could observe people or things through mirrors, or more accurately, 015 could. He could do more.
One of Nicholas' first meals before the fatigue of the blood drawn fully started, Papa had given him a plastic cup of water. He had gone to sip from it, but vaguely he could feel a pull. The water wasn't tangible enough to watch through, and he had no goal at the moment, so he let the feeling fade.
Back to the present, Papa makes him wear a blindfold in the hallways in case he uses his power and sees something the lab doesn't want him to. Of course, Papa just tells him that if he uses his ability around too many reflections, whether he sees them or not, the backlash could really hurt him. Despite Papa's lies, he isn't fully wrong; attempting to search, while in the presence of too many reflective objects, can result in his mind splitting into multiple fragments.
It hurts.
Thinking back to that day, he hears Papa shut a drawer, pulling out a black blindfold.
He hated the blindfold. The way it pressed against his eyes, the way it stole more than sight. Papa knew that Nicholas was sure of it, and still, the fabric brushed his skin all the same.
Lifting himself from the bed, this time Papa supports him up. Feeling the helping hand depart, Nicholas stays upright, ignoring his body's lament to just rest. Feeling the blindfold settle around his eyes, he hears two other people come in.
Their steps are heavier, striking the ground with discipline. In comparison with his Papa's steps these are much heavier.
A deep authoritative voice emitted from Papa, "Escort 015 to his quarters before reintegrating him on the schedule with batch 2: 012 through 019. Also, inform Dr. Brenner that the test will be conducted once 015 recovers to confirm his findings. "
A firm grip grabs both his sides before gently transitioning him from the floor to bed.
His legs contained no power of their own as they fought against the thought of holding him up again. Feeling a supportive hand hold his armpits, he steadied himself.
"015, Papa can't wait to see you soon. I'll see you in the playroom after you have a bit of time to recover."
"Ok Papa," He felt the warmth emanating from him even without sight. Despite what Nick felt from beyond the grave, he knew if there was anyone who really cared for him, it was Papa.
His feet dragged slightly on the cold floor as he was assisted along. He knew Papa loved him, but Nicholas couldn't help but resent him a bit for the blindfold. He didn't show it in front of Papa because Nicholas knew from Nick that without deceit, you die. 015 is proof.
With the blindfold on, he could tell he lost more than sight. And he hated it. What that other sense was, Nicholas knew it had something to do with 015, but memories are like pictures: the centerpiece is clear, and the edges are blurry.
Feeling the footsteps behind him come to a halt, Nicholas slows his pace, although he wasn't doing a lot of walking to begin with. A pair of footsteps moved in front of him before he heard the fidgeting of the doorknob, followed by the whoosh of its opening. Once again, he was helped through the door before being sat on a familiar bed. The stiff mattress greeted him, then a pair of callused hands brushed up against his neck as his blindfold was removed.
Before he could even think of looking at the gap in the door, it shut with a clink. Tracing the hand from the door handle to the man visage, Nicholas stared into the hollow, gaunt eyes of the man. His muddy brown eyes stared right into his. His mouth moved to form words, but Nicholas was no longer listening.
He felt a faint connection as he looked in the man's eyes. He tried to grab it, but like sand, it kept slipping through his fingers.
Suddenly, the man yelled, "TURN AROUND AND FACE THE WALL!" His face flushed red as veins subtly bulged at the base of his neck. His coat was ill-fitting against his strong physique as he flung one of his hands up.
Only now did Nic realize the man was speaking. Quickly stopping his eye contact as he caught the man hovering over a black contraption.
The shape resolved in his mind before he could stop it: cold metal, weight, intention.
A gun.
The word landed with terrifying clarity, sharper than anything he'd ever seen before.
Spinning around in his bed, Nic faced the wall. He didn't understand why. Well, he did, but the man's voice was so loud. Nicholas decided in that moment he agreed with 015 loud was bad. And he knew the eventual fate of all things bad.
He heard the man mutter something before cracking the door, slipping out, and shutting it.
Alone again. Nicholas turned inwards, facing the mental graves of 015 and Nick. Despite having tried to bury them, it seems they're nuggets of wisdom had proven themselves. Nicholas needed to know what 015 knew; he had established it as a priority. 015 knew mirrors, but several things could be mirrors, and Nicholas needed to know how he did it. How did 015 grab the sand that slipped between his fingers?
Looking around the room, the walls were barren, so clearly they had accounted for 015 doing some unwarranted exercise. Likely the same reason he was blindfolded in the hallways.
In his mental space as he neared 015's memories, he felt a pull. Not to 015, but Nick. Pausing his search through 015, he turned to Nick before following the beacon. Shuffling through the memories, he found it.
It was the memory right before Nicholas's birth. Diving in Nicholas found himself in his bedroom, or at least what he thought was himself. A gray humanoid stood where Nic would be. Pondering, Nic realized he didn't know what he looked like. He had a nose, eyes, ears, and a mouth. The problem was that every human had that.
He had no hair. Thinking back on his memories in Alderbrook, Nic realized that 015's memories were so blurry that he couldn't recall his hair. In fact, Nic couldn't recall anything at all. The pictures were so yellowed that he only knew what they were, but no details.
Focusing back on the memory, everything proceeded as normal with him collapsing on the ground, but once that happened.
Everything was black.
Looking around, Nicholas realized he had hit some kind of dead space. He was asleep, so there was nowhere to continue the memory.
The darkness stretched, endless and soundless, until red began to bleed into it. The color pulsed, thick and wet, shaping itself into letters Nicholas recognized as someone else's final thoughts.
Everyone here is going to die. I'm going to die.
Nicholas stared.
He didn't want to die like Nick.
He didn't want to die like 015.
He didn't want to die like Saint Nicholas.
Tears welled up as he called for the vestiges of Nick to give any advice. Desperation began to creep on the edges of his vision as the familiar pounding connected him to the outside world.
Despair.
No, he'd search Nick's memories; the only way not to die was to know why.
The words rearranged themselves. Hope reignited within his chest. Nick wouldn't leave Nicholas to die. Even if Nick himself was dead.
Liars don't die. Quiet people don't die. Friendly people don't die. Most of all, strong people don't die.
A light shone on him. Nic realized what he had to do. Nick could handle the other three, and 015 could handle the most important. Nicholas smiled as he dove into 015's memories to uncover the secret.
He wouldn't die.
He would be strong.
Strong enough that nothing, no Papa, no room, no mirror could ever take him apart again.