Tiny bubbles float up the glass as it sits. Baekhyun catches the foam before it can spill and leaves the empty bottle in the sink.

By the time he returns to his computer, the video is no longer black, showing a still image of a pair of women—obviously sisters—sitting behind a table set with framed photos, crayon and marker drawings, and photo albums. Baekhyun slouches in his desk chair and watches the little gray status bar creep closer to the end.

Minseok had brought the video to Baekhyun's attention while wading through ten years of missing persons reports and police files of subsequent leads. It's a part of a memorial site, formerly an active information center for a kidnapped child.

Finally setting his beer on the desk, Baekhyun taps the spacebar, and the video begins with a reporter on the sidewalk outside of a cafe. Snow falls in front of the camera; the story is from January.

“Twenty years ago today, a family was tragically torn apart. Little Kim Jongin was out with his two older sisters, who were tasked with keeping Jongin out of the house while the rest of the family and friends prepared for a surprise birthday party. Little did they know, the birthday boy would not attend his own party.

“Jongin was turning four years old.” The reporter gestures to the cafe. “They were here, when this cafe was a notable candy store, when Jongin disappeared.” The video switches to archive footage of the original report. Two little girls cling to their parents, all red-eyed among what was supposed to be a joyful scene with streamers, balloons, and a long banner of cut characters spelling out birthday wishes.

The video continues with the reporter meeting the sisters, now young women, as well as a cub. “I sat down with the sisters on their brother's twenty-fourth birthday. They haven't given up hope in finding Jongin."

The voice over narration ends, and the reporter greets the women. “Thank you both for sitting with me.” They nod. The cub kneels at the low table and grabs a sketchbook from beneath it to draw, ignoring what the adults say over her head. ”Now, today is Jongin's birthday. I see you have cupcakes in the kitchen. Are they for him?”

“Jongin loved cupcakes, especially the confetti ones, because of the colors. Every year, we buy his favorite.”

“I know this is tough, but could you walk us through that day again?”

Baekhyun hears bed springs creaking followed by a sigh. Jongin still has days of nothing but sleeping, whether from physical exhaustion or mental fatigue. He still refuses his medication occasionally. If Baekhyun can't mask it in food or a drink, he calls Minseok and Jongdae.

One of the sisters set her jaw and sniffles, refusing the tears welling in her eyes. “Dead or alive, I want my brother back. He was my baby before I had my own.” She sniffs again, and her sister squeezes her hand. The cub turns, frowning, and turns around to scoot between her mom's knees and hug her. ”My daughter is Jongin's age, when he was taken, and I do not let her out of my sight.”

“There's no myth to the 'momma bear' image?”

“Absolutely not.”

They focus on the drawings and photos, sharing stories and personalizing Jongin. He loved to draw his family and friends and, although shy, was very friendly but preferred books to other children.

There's more creaking, a high whine, an a yawn that grows as a bedroom door opens. Jongin shuffles into the room, soft with sleep and barely watching where he's walking.

“Hi.” He leans over Baekhyun, forehead on his shoulder. Baekhyun's tail wags a little, catching the pantlegs of Jongin's pajamas. “What're you watching?”

“Memorial video for a missing child.” Jongin hums. “He'd be twenty-four, now.”

Jongin hums against Baekhyun's neck, not exactly sympathetic. “That .” He yawns again, wincing at the twinge in his jaw. “I'm thirsty... What do you have?”

“Beer.” Condensation has left a small puddle around the base of the glass. Jongin's scrunches his nose in disgust and makes to leave and find his own drink. “Hey, hold on a second...” Baekhyun catches his hand and turns his chair. “Sit.” He pats his lap, and Jongin sits. He's much too big, but neither care.

Turning the chair again, Baekhyun backs up the video to a holiday portrait of a cub with big, bell-shaped black ears and a smile so wide that his eyes are nearly closed.

“This the kid?” Jongin asks.

“Yeah.”

“Cute.”

“You don't recognize him?”

“I didn't see many kids, hyung. Rabbit kits, sure, but—”

“He's a bear, and like I said, he'd be twenty-four, now.” The oral surgeon estimated Jongin is in his early 20s, based on his lack of baby teeth and the condition of the healthy erupted teeth.

Jongin shrugs, unsure why Baekhyun is showing him. The boy could be a victim he's helped. Sometimes he'll share stories about past raids and checking on survivors.

“Look again, Jongin.” Baekhyun rubs his , fingers gentle over the bumps of scabs and scars. “You sure you don't recognize him?”

Jongin nods.

“He's you.”

Jongin frowns. It doesn't look like him, but then again—he usually doesn't recognize his face as his own in the mirror. He never had an image of himself; looks weren't important. Taunts were all he had to form an identity from, but teddy bear and pretty boy meant little to him, not knowing what they meant.

“Jongin, your friends kept your name for you. Kai is not your real name. Chen and Xiumin are not Jongdae and Minseok.

“When you were four-years-old, your sisters took you on a walk, so the family could prepare for your birthday party, do you remember? You went to a candy store. There was a woman in the crowd...” Police pieced together a network of accomplices, one being a former fighter whose job was to lure prospective victims. Being a bear, Jongin was prime material, and being away from his mom was too great an opportunity. “...She offered you candy, and you followed her to a car with a man inside.

“Jongin, your family has been waiting for you for twenty years. They still love you.”

Jongin sniffs, staring at Baekhyun's beer glass. He's trembling and turns to face Baekhyun. “If it's something I did, tell me what I can do better, and I'll do it. Don't make me leave!”

“Jongin—Jongin, the absolute last thing I want is to force you away.”

“Then why would you show me this?” He looks morosely at the clip of a home video, grainy frames showing toddler Jongin hiding behind his mom while his sisters chase him. “I don't know these people. I don't want to know them." They could be bad. Their smiles may only last for so long.

“They've been waiting for you for a very long time. Letting them know you are alive will provide some closure and immense relief. I understand it means little to you. Your life has been lived for you, but this world desperately needs sympathy and understanding, and it can be learned." Baekhyun takes his cheeks and cradles his head to look at him, although Jongin stares at the desktop. “You don't have to like them. You don't have to live with them or stay longer than you're comfortable with. Please just come with me to ease a family's suffering.”

The video is black again. It stopped playing minutes ago; now Jongin can see their reflections. Baekhyun's still staring at him and wearing a soft expression mixed with pain. Baekhyun's phone chirps; he sets different tones for certain numbers, so he knows it's an update on a recent group of survivors. Sighing, he reaches for it, and Jongin leans down to kiss him.

He's up and gone before Baekhyun can do anything, escaping back into his room and probably hiding under his blankets.

Work calls, though. Baekhyun checks his messages and responds to the ones asking for direction, but his mind isn't with him, wandering down the hall.

When Baekhyun thinks of Jongin, he still sees an image of a battered, green bear with a perpetual scowl of pain and hatred of his existence. Their first meeting, Jongin was in too much pain to even act on his fear aggression and simply cried.

For some rescues, they reintegrate relatively easy, excited to be free and have open options. Others need more work, therapy to help ease them into their new lives or to reintroduce them to their previous lives.

Jongin is one of the worst cases Baekhyun has ever come across, if not the worst.

They had systematically taken out the satellite locations, gleaning information from the victims as well as those in charge. HQ had been settled snugly underground for nearly thirty years. Those who didn't make it in the ring, or out of the ring, were weighed down with rubble from collapsed passages and sunk in the flooded areas.

The latest body count Baekhyun read is 227.

Each raid follows the same procedure: After police clear the rings and surrounding rooms, Baekhyun's given the go ahead to take his crew in and gather the survivors. It takes different lengths of time each raid; they can't just grab and go, because while some are physically capable, they may be mentally unprepared. One survivor said that they can't tell the different between “good guys” and “bad guys;” they're just guys. Baekhyun has learned patience over the years.

When he entered the room where he ultimately discovered Jongin, he's immediately faced with two scowling cats, Jongdae and Minseok, kneeling protectively before a pile of dirty blankets. Baekhyun spent nearly twenty minutes convincing them he had no intention of hurting them, and even then they refused to be escorted out of the illegal facility. Baekhyun had to pull a couple scraps of fabric away to finally see the mess that was Jongin. Immediately, he knew there was no way the bear was walking out of there on his own. It was a few months, even, before he walked at all. Doctors reported numerous broken bones that set wrong and had to be rebroken to heal properly. His lower jaw was literally rotting away. Many teeth had to eventually be pulled.

The cats acting as Jongin's personal protectors initially stayed with Baekhyun, while shelters were filled with other survivors, but they've since moved out and live in their own apartment near Minseok's sister. They're the only source of information on Jongin, saying the bear was at HQ before them, before some others before even them, even if they'd been kept for years.

So Jongin was captive for easily ten years. Now, Baekhyun knows it's closer to double that length of time, and he's spent most of his life in an unstable, hostile environment catering his actions and behavior to appease cruel, money-driven people with neither remorse nor empathy in the face of profit.

Baekhyun wipes the condensation from his glass and picks it up, watching the dark spots on his lap when water drops from the bottom. It doesn't taste as good warm, but he downs half of it at once and sets it aside again to draft an email to the address listed on the memorial website. He's gotten better at being diplomatic and doesn't offer too much information but assures the family that Jongin has been positively identified and is in treatment, although his condition isn't 110%.

It . Baekhyun's been allowed to witness Jongin's healing, and he's making great strides, physically and emotionally. He's taken to reading like a fish to water, but his handwriting still isn't very legible. His psychiatrist is pleased with his progress. His physical therapist has nothing but praise. Even his dentist is positive. These are all good things.

All good things have to come to an end, though, and Baekhyun knows Jongin has to leave someday. He's a middleman, a stepping stone to reintegrate survivors into society. The family deserves closure and to be whole again.

He leaves the email unsent and closes the browser. His desktop background is a quote from Mahatma Gandhi: "When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it... always."

It helps him focus.

He finishes his beer, leaves the glass in the sink, and decides to check on Jongin.

His bedroom is bright; he never closes his windows, but the bear is just a lump of blankets on the far edge of his bed that rolls when Baekhyun on the opposite side.

“You gonna talk to me?” The grunt means no, so Baekhyun gently pushes the blanket lump. “C'mon. We need to talk sooner or later.” He earns another grunt and drops his shoulders.

Alright then. If he won't talk, he'll just have to listen.

“I told you that when I was very young I was also in the ring.” He’s focused somewhere between his nose and the baseboard of the wall. It slowly changes from blonde oak to a dingy, rotting brown as he recalls his childhood. “There were other children. We’d play, sometimes. My older brother was with me, and I wondered where he’d go when he’d leave and why he looked so awful when he returned. Sometimes, he’d be crying, but I don’t know if it was from the pain or something else.” Baekbom would never talk about it. He'd focus on Baekhyun and the other children, finding whatever food he could and comforting them when it was too hot or too cold to sleep.

“He was a bait dog.” Fighters are trained how to fight and to build their confidence using bait animals. The bait can be anyone but is usually weak, fearful, and submissive, like any puppy. Not all fights in the ring are one-on-one or brawls but rather bloodbaths to put on a show. Smaller, weaker individuals are introduced to the ring with someone bigger, stronger, and always meaner, often driven mad by starvation and torture. “My one experience in the ring was as a bait dog with my brother and a friend, I think a cat, who was sick. We were all chained to the wall.

“I don’t know who was set on us. They didn’t look remotely real, more like something out of a nightmare, but I didn’t wake up until much later, after my friend and brother had both died.

“The doctor in the hospital I woke up in said I’d been lucky. During the police raid, they found me hanging from the fighter’s jaws by my neck…” He subconsciously touches the white scars on the back of his neck, hidden by his hair. “They actually weren’t looking for us; they were raiding hideouts to look for illegal drugs and gambling.” Fighting is actually legal, within certain standards, but betting on it and other sports is prohibited.

Something Baekhyun is desperately trying to change.

“That raid is why I started this group, with other survivors and activists. We were ignored for so long, right beneath the noses of society. Liberation isn't the end, though. There's life after the ring, and the people waiting for their family can be the greatest healing tool. My brother died there, and I found out my parents had divorced, but my dad drank himself to death, and my mother died of heart failure, officially.” Unofficially, it was a broken heart. “If I can reunite families, I feel I have to. At least make efforts to rebuild bridges of communication. There is no guarantee, and that's scary, but you've lived through hell.”

Jongin hugs him from behind, wrapping his arms around Baekhyun's torso and chest and heating his whole back. His skin is hot where it touches Baekhyun. He kisses Baekhyun's neck, behind his ear and down his throat, spurred on by Baekhyun's sighs.

“Jongin...”

It's not enough, and the bear moans in frustration. He grips Baekhyun's waist, Baekhyun's hands around his wrists, and a bruise high on his nape, beneath his hair. Baekhyun feels Jongin against the base of his quaking tail.

Before things get even more heated, Jongin hugs him again—tight—forehead dropping onto his shoulder. He says something Baekhyun can't hear over his heartbeat in his ears. He reaches back and runs his fingers through Jongin's silky hair and pets his bell-shaped ears.

“What was that?”

Jongin heaves a heavy sigh that pulls and pushes Baekhyun with it, and then he lifts his head to settle his cheek on Baekhyun's shoulder, looking away. “I said, I think I love you.”

Baekhyun's heart is pulsing in his ears again. Jongin misinterprets his silence and stiffens, pulling away with plans on burrowing into his blankets and suffocating himself along with his feelings.

“Do you really?” Jongin leans over his shoulder again; Baekhyun turns his face away. His ears are lowered to his hair, and his tail is limp and still beside his thigh.

He turns, still avoiding looking at Jongin, but he takes his hands. He can't remember the last time anyone told him that they loved him. There's an undercurrent of something like it, he thinks, in the thanks and gratitude, but that's closer to the affection of a friend.

“Jongin...I really really like you, like, a whole lot. I want to date you and be with you, because I am so proud of who you are and your drive to continue living the best life you can, but I also know that the environment that you grew up did not allow many, if any at all, opportunities to experience or even acknowledge love. In any of its many forms. I don’t want to force you or make you feel pressured in any way to reciprocate my feelings, and I also don't want you to confuse...gratitude with love.”

He's scared. His casual relationships, built on physicality and going out for a beer here and there, have staved off the loneliness between the raids and the hospitals and rehab visits. After his wards move on, his house feels way too big. Alone with so much space and silence reminds him too much of his own heart and past.

“I know I want you kiss you a lot and be with you as much as possible. I don’t know if I can name the feeling, but I do feel that.” He pulls at Baekhyun’s hand until he lifts it, and Jongin plays with his fingers. “My nightmares aren’t so bad when I sleep with you. I eat more because I want to. I can show you my back and not be afraid. If it’s not love, I know I trust you...with everything.” He sniffles. “Please don't make me leave just because they're my relatives.”

“I have no intentions of doing that.” Baekhyun holds his face again, pushing his hair aside and gently dragging his nails over his scalp. “I'm going to be here for you, doing all I can, not because it's my job or my mission, but because it's you, and if this is where you're happiest, then I'm happy. If that changes, we'll work it out. We'll get through each day together.”

Jongin nods and nudges his head into Baekhyun's palm, so he'll keep scratching by his ear. He closes his eyes, and they sit quietly for a minute or two.

“I'm scared,” Jongin admits. “What if they don't like me?”

“They love you. You're different than you were, but you're still you. They will adjust.”

“You promise you won't leave me alone with them?”

“Only if you want to be, otherwise they'll have to physically haul me away. Okay?” he presses, and Jongin nods again. “So you'll meet them with me?”

“Yes, hyung.” Jongin opens his eyes, looking into Baekhyun's. “I don't want to be like this forever. I don't want to always be afraid.”

Baekhyun smiles. He feels tears and swallows them with a nod. “Good... That's very good, Jongin.”

That's the type of attitude that tells Baekhyun Jongin's a true survivor.

And maybe their good thing is just beginning and doesn't have to end.

a/n: Written for EXZOO fest. (prompt no.H001)

I hope this makes sense; I rewrote it a few times and ended up focusing more on Baekhyun and Jongin rather than the others and their healing experiences. Just planning out Baekhyun's story hurt a lot, but believe in the hopeful ending.

My inspiration came from blood sports such as dog fighting and bear baiting, and human trafficking, which is alive and well throughout the world. Healing after being traumatized by these is possible. Maybe not easy or quick but possible, and that hope inspired me, too.

The title also comes from Mahatma Gandhi: "There is little that separates humans from other sentient beings — we all feel joy, we all deeply crave to be alive and to live freely, and we all share this planet together."