Experiment J is a man made to be a monster.

He lives in a prison of glass. Spotlights hanging overhead and burning the skin of his back. He's akin to an animal on display, cuffed and chained to the ground, wild hair splaying about and hiding his face. He growls loud and steady when the door to his cage is opened, and lashes out with teeth bared and veins bulging as someone approaches. He is a wild animal in the guise of a human, ready to attack when provoked and willing to kill to survive.

His muscles tense as food is shoved towards him.

"It's pork today, experiment J."

This one particular caretaker is fearless, new in the lab but bold in his ways. He's one of the few who still treats experiment J as half the human he used to be. And one of the few who manages to last two months while caring for experiment J.

Experiment J sniffs at the grilled pork presented before him, served simply on a recyclable plastic plate. Experiment J bends down, the chains around his neck and hands rustling to accommodate the movements, and bites large chunks off the meat. The plate moves with his every action, but he snarls when the caretaker tries to help him.

"All right, I won't bother you."

It's a routine they both have since the caretaker started working there. Every time he serves experiment J his meals, he offers to help. Sometimes he offers to help keep the plate in place, other times he offers to tie his hair up so it doesn't get into his food. Once, when he felt particularly bold, he offered to feed experiment J and was escorted out of the cell with a bleeding bite mark on his arm. Experiment J ended up in the Dark Room for a week.

When experiment J finishes his meal (spitting out the hair that got into his mouth) he bends back and lets the caretaker clean up after his mess. The caretaker uses a long-handled mop to clean the area, but still gets glares whenever he comes too close.

"See you for dinner, then, experiment J."

Another part of their routine, the caretaker would say his farewells and experiment J would ignore them all. Any and all attempts of sparking intelligent conversation from the animal-like man ignored as if he couldn't understand a word they said. It has been years since experiment J last spoke, but it has been years of dubious chemicals and involuntary discipline. This animal-like personage is like a defense mechanism.

The caretaker never lingers around for an answer after the first few attempts, but this time he does. And he eyes experiment J, whose eyes stay observing the ground.

"They're moving you to a new cell. It's padded and sterile like every other cell, but it's less invasive than this glass cage. I think you might like it better there."

Experiment J says nothing. His breath the only sound leaving his mouth. The caretaker sighs and turns away from the sight of the man, hunched down and chained like the beast he became.

"It's a pleasure to continue working with you."

-

Experiment J crawls around his new cell, padded for comfort and safety and blindingly white. He memorizes the space, bats the chains attached to a section of the wall with disapproval, and is once again chained to prevent his violent lashings. He fights against the restraints but is quickly subdued by a sedative injected into his blood.

The caretaker stands back and lets the scientists begin their usual check-up. They strip the unconscious experiment J and check his vitals. The caretaker takes their routinely barrages of undue criticisms with a smile—you should cut his nails, cut his hair, wash him more thoroughly, stop feeding him so much meat—saying nothing even if they all know he can't do anything without their personal clearance. They never change experiment J's diet, never authorizes scissors or a razor to properly groom experiment J, and they never give him a stronger sedative to let experiment J sleep for longer so he can wash him without too much fuss.

The caretaker says nothing as they leave the room, closing the heavy metal door behind them, and he waits as experiment J stirs awake. It's dinnertime and the caretaker has a plate of (now cold) baked fish in his hand and a bowl of water in the other. He approaches experiment J with long strides and settles cautiously a few feet away from the chained man.

"Dinner time, experiment J. I brought you food and water."

Experiment J's more docile after being sedated, so he doesn't react when the caretaker cautiously slides both the food and the bowl of water towards him. Experiment J bends down, pulling against his chains, and nearly dunks his face into the bowl of water.

He looks more human when groggy from medicine, acts more human as well. He takes more consideration to flip his hair away from his face when he drinks and eats. He eats and drinks slowly, and even allows the caretaker to lift the bowl upwards so he can drink more water.

There's always a semblance of a smile and mouthed words after the caretaker's finished helping him and cleaning him up after he's sedated. He never catches what the words are and experiment J always immediately goes back to sleep, but the seed of curiosity has been planted. A part of the caretaker’s persistence on getting experiment J to speak stems from that one moment of visible humanity.

"I'll get you to speak someday," the caretaker whispers to the already fast asleep experiment J, "I promise, I'll get you to talk to me."

-

The move to the more private cell is a show of trust, but also a warning. It's a warning to experiment J and the staff responsible for him that he's becoming obsolete. There are other experiments demanding more of their attention and budget, and the large change in the staff directly dealing with experiment J shows it. Most are new faces, rookies in the field, dealing with the grunt work of their seniors. But the caretaker stays, because he's been the only one so far able to endure experiment J's thunderous temper tantrums efficiently.

Experiment J is more on-edge as of late because of it. The change in environment and the staff dealing with him giving him too much stress than he can deal with. In one week he's managed to nearly bite a rookie scientist's finger off because he didn't sedate him properly. He's also snappier with the caretaker, and being a general child by leaving his mess everywhere and urinating where he's not supposed to. The caretaker can only half sympathize with experiment J as he's the one who has to clean up after the mess he persistently leaves everywhere.

"You're a grown man, not a child!" The caretaker says with exasperation after too many days of keeping his temper in check. "I know it's stressful for you, but it's stressful for us too. Can't you at least act like a mature adult and not a child throwing a tantrum?"

Experiment J gnashes his teeth as a form of intimidation, but doesn't growl or do anything else. One good thing about the move is the improvement it coaxed out of experiment J’s mental state. The less invasive cell sobered up a part of experiment J's mind and made him far less inclined to emit animalistic growls. Bites and teeth gnashing non-withstanding, it appears experiment J is less inclined to keep up the wild animal ploy.

But experiment J is still uninterested in human contact, turning defensive immediately if the caretaker gets too close, and outright ignoring his existence if he doesn't have to acknowledge it. He stares into blank space most of the time, eyes focusing on nothing. With his new close-cropped hair, the caretaker can finally see his eyes. His eyes sharpen as he glares, droops when he's idle and widens when he's surveying something of interest. He now knows experiment J looks at him with apathetic disinterest whenever their eyes meet.

And that's what he's doing now, blinking slowly as he looks at the caretaker before turning away to stare at yet another spot on the wall. Mouth slightly open and moving, as if speaking to himself.

Sometimes the caretaker notices experiment J mouthing words to himself. It's barely noticeable, more silent murmurs than actual mouthed conversations. It's nothing that the camera installed in the room can pick up. But the caretaker, who's spent most of his working hours in experiment J's vicinity, can see the subtle difference between mouth-breathing and actually speaking words.

He never knows what experiment J's talks to himself about. He never gets close enough to read his lips. He respects experiment J's boundaries, knows it's not for him to intrude upon.

With a sigh, the caretaker cleans up the last of experiment J's mess and leaves the man alone to his musings.

-

Experiment J has been called out of his cell far less, much to the relief of his restrainers. But it shows how quickly experiment J is floating out of the upper echelon's high regards as a test subject. He's shown high resistance and a rather large percentage of positive results to the testing done to him, but now that the lab has a shiny new toy to play with (going by the codename experiment S) experiment J is thrown to the side. Only the seniors and higher ups have access to experiment S, so the caretaker remain mostly oblivious of the experiments being done to the new test subject.

Currently he's sitting inside experiment J's cell, keeping him company as he calmly eats his food. Experiment J has been spectacularly docile as of late, though the change in attitude may be attributed to the fact that he hasn't seen a syringe in almost a week. He's calm enough to not need to be sedated when the caretaker needs to bathe him. And he's calm enough to not be overly hostile towards the scientists who comes to do their routinely round of check-ups on him. He's much, much more human when the scientists aren't injecting every chemical known to man into his bloodstream.

Experiment J finishes his meal, bending back and stretching out the kinks in his muscle he developed after eating like an animal. Even with his good behavior his hands are still cuffed to his back, no more a prisoner in this cage of foam and concrete. He eyes the caretaker warily as he takes the plate away.

"I'll come in again to bring you dinner. I'll see you later, experiment J."

Just as the caretaker is about to leave, after cleaning up whatever mess is left from the meal, a loud rustling of chains stop him in his tracks.

"Yes, experiment J?"

The caretaker notices the difference in the stare experiment J is currently giving him. His eyes are clearer, brighter, sharper. They're the intelligent eyes of a man forced against his will into imprisonment instead of the eyes of a wounded, caged beast. His chapped lips move, opening and closing, forming soundless words.

"…Name…"

The deep voice, hoarse and extremely scratchy from years of disuse, sounds clear in the caretaker's ears. Experiment J mouths the word again and again. Name, name, name--again and again--as if he is an infant tasting his own first word. Experiment J speaks again, louder and clearer, and the caretaker knows he's not making any of it up.

"Your…your name…name…"

It takes moments for the caretaker to realise that experiment J is asking for his name, and he stumbles to form his own words. His mouth trying to catch up with the thoughts in his mind as experiment J continues to test each of the words that leave his lips. Finally, the caretaker forces his thoughts into order and speaks.

"Andy," the caretaker says, smiling with warmth and pride, "My name is Andy."

Experiment J blinks at him, mouths the word 'Andy', and his brows furrow in concentration. Andy, he mouths, tasting each syllable on his tongue. Andy, Andy, Andy, Andy, feeling each consonant and vowel on his lips. He feels each letter and lets the word flow silently between his lips.

"Andy," experiment J finally says, voice breathless and croaky, and mirrors Andy's smile.

-

The words that experiment J spoke on that day had left Andy with an immeasurable amount of pride in his heart, but it also left him with a heavy feeling of regret.

Word about experiment J talking has called back interest in him. He's being included in tests again, being forced to take dubious chemicals again. And it makes Andy want to cry. What Andy has strived to achieve since he was assigned to experiment J has been destroyed in a matter of a week. Experiment J regressed back into his initial state of complete distrust, becoming violent and reclusive once again and acting out like a wounded animal. Experiment J always has his teeth bared, his muscles tensed, his eyes sharpened to a glare. It feels like how it used to be back when they first met.

Andy stays back with experiment J's meal in hand as he watches the restrainers chain the limp and unconscious experiment J to the wall once more. The restrainers work fast, chaining him up at the neck and hands before experiment J can stir awake. They leave once they're finished, leaving Andy to deal with the still groggy experiment J.

"It's mealtime, experiment J."

Even when he's drugged up with sedatives experiment J lets out an angry growl at Andy's presence in the room. His bleary eyes look at Andy as if he's a threat, teeth bared and ready to attack if provoked. He looks like the deranged animal Andy first met.

With a sigh he places the plate onto the floor and shoves it towards experiment J with a long pole. Experiment J sniffs at the meal with suspicion, aware that it could be spiked with some more chemicals. He retracts abruptly from the meal, letting out a roar of outrage when he smells something that leaves him reeling with bad memories. Andy knows that he's not going to eat it.

"I'm sorry. I'm not actually in charge of what they put on your plate," Andy says as he tries to soothe the obviously frazzled man, "It's not bad, I promise. It's just sleeping pills. It'll help you calm down."

Both of them know Andy's lying, but Andy will get in trouble if he doesn't come back with an empty plate. Experiment J doesn't buy it. The brief flash of betrayal that flits across his face calls out to Andy's moral values. He has a choice. Betray experiment J's growing trust of him or risk being punished by his superiors. It's not an easy decision to make. Andy's life is wholly dependent on his job at the lab. He can't easily disobey his superiors.

But there's growing trust between the two of them. A growing sense of companionship that Andy forged of his own accord by treating experiment J like a person instead of a test subject. It's a decision between his own well-being and the well-being of his relationship with whom he could consider to be a stranger.

Andy chooses to save his relationship with experiment J.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Andy takes the pole and pushes the plate away from experiment J.

"Fine, you don't have to eat it."

Experiment J watches him in stunned silence as Andy picks up the plate and gently backs away from experiment J. 

"I'll see you later, experiment J."

Andy opens the heavy door behind him and casts one last look to the still silent experiment J. He turns away with a growing sense of dread and locks the door.

-

Experiment J's week passes by in a blur of tests and strange injections, but he's more hostile than usual compared to the week previous. Even when he's drugged up and foaming in the mouth he knows that there's something off, something missing from his usual day-to-day routine. It's a feeling that leaves him restless and careless as he trashes against his restraints and tries to attack whomever comes into his cell.

Andy isn't there. He knows Andy isn't there.

Experiment J lets loose an ear-shattering howl, thrashing angrily and rubbing his skin red against the metal cuffs around his neck and hands. The chains doesn't allow him to move more than six feet away from the wall he's attached to, which might be the only thing saving the replacement caretaker from being mauled by a violent test subject.

The replacement trembles as he steps away as quickly as he can, creating as much distance as he physically could. The meal lies forgotten and spilt on the floor, but experiment J continues to cry out in outrage. He struggles against the chains, veins bulging along his neck and he pushes and pulls and strains to clamp his jaw down on the replacement's neck.

"Stand back, experiment J!"

The door bursts open and restrainers comes filing in, decked out in armour and armed with tazers. Experiment J slightly calms down at the sight of the men surrounding him, but he still growls low in his throat, teeth bared to intimidate. He hisses when one of the men inches close towards him.

"Calm down, experiment J, or we'll put you in the Dark Room again."

Experiment J winces, gnashing his teeth in a show of defiance even as he curls in on himself. He backs away when another man comes closer, the syringe in his hand glinting under the fluorescent lighting.

"It's time to go to sleep now, experiment J."

Experiment J shrivels as the man approaches with the sedative. The threat of the Dark Room makes him complacent, and the men know how to use it against him. But experiment J remembers why he acted out in the first place. The caretaker. His caretaker. And with a new resolve in mind, he leaps up as the man closes in and sinks his teeth into the man's neck.

The moment the screams erupt from the wounded man, the others dives in to separate experiment J from the rapidly bleeding restrainer. One manages to succeed in tackling experiment J to the wall. He takes a brief moment to collect himself, the force enough to shift him out of balance even when the foam covering the expanse of the wall broke his hit. He spits out blood and yelps in pain when a restrainer tugs harshly on his chains.

"Sedate him quick!"

Experiment J is still reeling from the force of the tug on the chain to his neck when the same restrainer pins him to the ground and jabs the syringe into his arm. Experiment J yowls and struggles against the hold, but soon finds that the fast-acting medicine is starting to muddle his senses. He gives a final fruitless struggle before his world dulls out to darkness.

-

Andy waits patiently as they carry experiment J back in, food and water set down on the floor beside the door. For once it doesn't seem like they've taken the measure to sedate experiment J before moving him, but it really looks as if they should have. Experiment J looks worse for wear, lifeless eyes staring into thin air and his limbs hanging limply from his restraints. He doesn't struggle as the restrainers cuff him back to his corner and doesn't acknowledge Andy's presence as he carefully makes his way closer.

"Experiment J?"

Andy is aware of the circumstances of experiment J's two-week long sentence in the Dark Room. The restrainer ended up lucky, the bite being only an inch away from his jugulars, but the near life-threatening action calls upon for punishment. Experiment J seems to have learnt his lesson, remaining eerily calm even as Andy blatantly invades his personal territory.

"Are you alright, experiment J?"

Andy slowly crouches down to his level, carefully watching for signs of agitation. He tilts his head to look at experiment J in the eye. He reaches out to sweep aside experiment J's overgrown fringe and is instantly relieved when he flinches away and his eyes flash with slight anger.

"Sorry," Andy says, "I just want to see if you're okay."

Experiment J only blinks slowly at him, eyes not exactly focusing at Andy himself. But experiment J does something unexpected. He leans his head down and bumps his head softly against Andy's still outstretched hand, pulling himself back up slowly after the deed is done. His eyes have regained some of their focus, staring intently at Andy, evaluating what he will do next.

Andy, however, remains at a lost. He's smart enough to realize that it is a sign of trust, but he isn't sure what he did to garner such a heartfelt expression. He retracts his hand and opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself at a loss. Experiment J watches patiently as Andy forms the words in his mouth.

"You…That time you acted out. Was it because I wasn't there?"

Experiment J doesn't say anything, but the slight nod of his head is all the answer Andy needs. All at once Andy feels overwhelmingly flattered and humbled and happy, and he can't help the smile that breaks out of his face.

"Thank you," Andy says sincerely, "Your concern means a lot to me."

Experiment J opens his mouth only for a gasp of air to wheeze past and convulse in a round of harsh coughing. Andy reels away from the force and stumbles to stand as he runs to get the bowl of water. He nearly spills the bowl as he rushes to experiment J's side and aids him. Experiment J finishes the whole bowl, a testament to how famished he was, and scoots away from Andy's fussy hands. He turns to face Andy, though, and he looks at him in what may be the most gentle and sincere expression Andy has ever seen.

"Thank you."

The voice is hoarse and croaky and it's no more than a murmur, but Andy hears it. He hears it. He feels happiness well up in his heart and says, "You're welcome."

-

Experiment J became attached to Andy since that day, letting the man feed him and meekly allowing Andy to wipe his face after he finishes eating. Andy is still careful in how he acts, still putting a distance between them out of respect, but he indulges in the happiness he finds in caring for experiment J. It's a feeling he missed, being relevant and needed to someone. And to experiment J the same can be said, he misses the feeling of being cared of and treated like a human being.

And that's what Andy treats him as, a human being. Despite being held up like a monster and forced to eat like an animal, Andy consistently tries to make experiment J feel more human. He strikes conversation even if experiment J doesn't answer. And even if Andy is experiment J's caretaker, he doesn't treat him like a pet or coddle him like an infant.

"You look much better today," Andy says as he feeds him the smaller scraps of grilled chicken for the day's lunch, "You have to admit the haircut suits you, it makes you look younger."

Experiment J quirks his lips as he silently eats the food Andy feeds to him. It was painfully awkward for the both of them the first time they tried it, but once they got used to it the actions became more natural. The image of a docile experiment J eating out of Andy's hand is a far cry from the violent and bloodthirsty experiment J who tries to tear out the jugulars of his victims.

Experiment J notices that Andy seems a little off though. He looks distant, jittery, a little restless in his spot. Even as he tries to be happy and make conversation, his mind's far from the cell. Thinking back, experiment J does remember other instances of Andy behaving strangely, but he doesn't have a clue to what may have caused those instances.

Nudging Andy's hand with his cheek, he looks up at Andy, inquiring. Experiment J doesn't have to say anything for Andy to understand his intentions. Andy sputters in embarrassment at having been caught spacing out.

"I--I was…I was just thinking about your name."

Experiment J raises his brows in surprise, he tilts his head and silently urges for Andy to say more.

"I mean," Andy flushes, "Experiment J is kind of a mouthful. But I'm not asking for your real name." Andy reassures, "I just want something to call you by, something that's less lengthy than 'Experiment J'."

Experiment J nods, thoughtful. He looks away for a while, seemingly in thought, but he inclines his head towards Andy. From the nonchalance of his body language, Andy guesses that experiment J is fine with whatever name Andy wants to come up with.

Andy chuckles, "I might give you a ridiculous name, you know."

Experiment J shrugs, not looking like he'd actually mind in the least. Considering that he's most likely been referred to as experiment J for the years he's spent in the lab, Andy isn't surprised that he's desperate to throw away such an impersonal and dehumanizing name.

It's Andy's turn to silently wallow in thought as he tries to find a suitable name for the man. He thinks of a way to play around with the J of his codename. It takes Andy a few minutes, but he finds something he thinks suitable.

"Junjin."

Experiment J sends him a questioning look, inquiring why he chose that name.

"I just like that name," Andy smiles and he changes the subject a tad too quickly to not be suspicious, "Then is it okay if I call you Junjin?"

Junjin pauses and stares off to the side to mouth the name to himself. Junjin. Junjin. After a while he looks up, smiles, and says, "Junjin's nice."

Andy laughs and uses his clean hand to pat the newly named Junjin lightly on the shoulder. "I'm glad you like it, Junjin."

A/N: So, how was it? Good? Bad? Please do leave a comment to tell me what you think. I'd love a comment or two or ten, they make my day.