Chapter Text
Subject 38 was having mood swings again.
Sam Lane sighed watching as the alien sat hunched up in his cell, staring daggers at the concrete floor. Its bright, unnaturally blue eyes were brimmed with unshed tears, and a small part of Sam felt pity for the small creature. He brushed that emotion off immediately.
He cleared his throat making his presence known.
"Here you go," he stated coldly, placing the plate of food on the floor a few feet away.
Subject 38 growled.
"I don't want that," it said, voice taking on a higher pitch as it whined like a child.
(Because he
was
a child)
Sam averted his gaze. "You have to,"
"I don't have to do anything," it hissed. Sam quickly moved his hand as the plate burst into flames as red energy beams shot out of the alien's eyes.
Sam sighed once more, feeling his rigid facade break at the child's temper tantrum.
"Son–"
"Don't call me that!" it yelled, looking up at him with eyes full of pain and fury—emotions far too heavy for someone who hadn't even lived a decade yet. "You're not my Ma or Pa! Only they get to call me that,"
Sam sighed, internally preparing himself for the waterworks. In three... two... one...
A small sniffle broke the heavy silence of the room.
Then, an even smaller whisper:
"I wanna go home, sir,"
Sam averted his eyes.
"Please,"
He picked up a spare plate that he had kept and gently placed it on top of the ashes of the last plate. Avoiding the alien's tearful gaze, Sam reached a hand and carefully ruffled Subject 38's hair in the same way he did to his daughter back at home. "Eat something, kiddo," he murmured, still not making eye contact. "You'll need the energy for the experiments,"
With that, he walked out of the concrete cell, locking the doors behind him, leaving a crying boy behind.