CELL

/ TEN /

Ryan's fingers touched something soft. He snatched them back in shock, expecting whatever it was to move. His lungs held onto the breaths they had been about to release, and his heart doubled its speed.

When nothing happened, he cautiously reached back out, slowly inching his fingers towards the object or person. Did he suddenly have company in his cell? Was that why They had come to him? They weren't taking him out. They were putting someone else in!

What he touched did not immediately feel recognisable. That was fine. He didn't expect it to. It didn't suddenly twist under his hand, and nor was it warm, so it wasn't a living person. It wasn't a dead one, either. He rolled over and moved closer, rubbing his hands over it.

No.

Could it be?

His heart leapt in his chest and he had an instant feeling of gratitude to the doctor. The mattress was thin, and didn't feel well padded, but it wasn't a floor, either. Ignoring the noise he might make, he scrambled towards it, gulping down the squeal of glee that threatened to burst forth.

Clambering onto it, he buried his face in its soft centre and set the squeal free.

Once it had been released and he was contained again, he turned onto his back and starfished, the way a child, after their short lifetime being spent on a single bed each night, it bought their first double by their parents.

He didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared, sleep slip over him and lead him from the conscious world.

"Let's hope he lasts longer this time. I expected better of him."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Don't just 'yes Doctor' me. I don't want a fucking suck up. I want an assistant who has a mind of their own, unless I tell them different. Got it?"

"Yes, Doctor!"

"Didn't I just... Oh, never mind. This is his fourth cycle. He's supposed to get better, not stay exactly where he is. He was chosen because he was a match. If he's not going to play along, we'll throw him away."

"Yes, Do... I mean, I agree. It's odd."

"It's more than odd. It's fucking inconvenient. If he doesn't improve, it means the Process is off, and I don't want to be the one who has to report that little conundrum. Do you?"

"No, Doctor, not at all."

"Well, unless you want to be volunteered, I suggest you lighten up and stop sticking the word 'Doctor' in every fucking sentence. Got it?"

"Yes, Fiona."

"Are you fucking serious? Don't ever use my real name in front of the patients. Are you fucking insane, Pedra?"

"I... I..."

"Close your bloody mouth and think before you open it again! And never use my fucking name!"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..."

"You mean you're fucking incompetent. Stop dithering and get out. I'll deal with him."

"Of course. I... I'm sorry."

"I don't want fucking apologies. I want efficiency. Try that for a change."

"Of course. I will. It won't happen again."

"I doubt that. Go on. Get out."

There was a scurry of heeled shoes and the opening of a door.

"Oh, Pedra?"

"Yes, Do... Doc?"

"That's much better. Can I have a coffee please? You do make them so perfectly."