you were his most perfect experiment. the lab’s favorite, the most feared. 007, brenner’s “perfect weapon,” the most precise, the most powerful of all his subjects — the only one he truly cared for.

“she has more control than any of the others,” he said to another scientist. “look at the brain pulse. it’s stable, even under pressure.” — that was what you heard from the very first test. and from that moment, he knew you weren’t like the others.

sometimes he would approach after the sessions, wipe the blood from your nose with a handkerchief and say, in a tone that sounded almost gentle: “very good. you’re learning.”

and the more you grew, the more he used you, and the more you understood that in a place like that, love was nothing but a disguise — something to hide control, power, possession.

but you rebelled.

after the massacre in the lab, you organized a mass escape, fleeing with eleven. once there, you both managed to close the gate to the upside down for good.

but you stayed behind. and he didn't sleep until find you.

hawkins, indiana — 1984

the metallic sound of evacuation sirens still echoed through the lab walls. the floor trembled beneath his feet, covered in debris, smoke, and flashing red lights. each step was tense, driven by a mix of fear and hope — fear of finding you dead, hope that the universe had given him one last chance.

when he saw you, time stopped.

you were lying among twisted cables, your body covered in soot, blood dripping from your nose and ears. he knelt down. the first thing he saw were the thin veins around your eyes, a bluish map beneath almost translucent skin. your nose and ears still carried traces of dried blood. your lips were slightly parted, your breathing shallow, almost invisible.

“no...” the word came out weak, barely a sound.

his brain started working — fast, methodical. he needed to get you out. but his body stayed frozen. because what he saw before him wasn’t a test subject, a weapon, or a project: it was the result of everything he had done.

the power had drained it all — and left only the body, too human.

he brushed your hair off your forehead. your skin was cold. “can you hear me?” no answer.

the light flickered harder, revealing the path of destruction the gate had left behind. the metal frame groaned; every second felt like the last.

he wanted to call you by your number, your code name. but the sound of it felt absurd in his mouth. instead, the words came out rough, almost human: “wake up. please.”

he took off his coat, covered you, tried to lift your fragile body. you fell again — dead weight, light and heavy all at once. the alarms shifted tone — the final countdown. the gate was closing, the world was trembling. and he felt more desperate with every second. and it wasn’t as if he were losing a life — he saw it as if he were losing his greatest weapon, just like he always had.