In Search of the Mirror Image (Septiplier/Septiplier AU)

Subject: Jack McLoughlin #32

The subject is standing at the back of the small room, pressed into the corner as if it is the best and only place to hide. His eyes are wide and wild. The slender arms wrapped only in a dark blue shirt. The pale skin flushed slightly pink and lips trembling as he once again refuses to eat. It is day three and he is doing nothing but drinking water and crying. I'm still trying to figure out what I did to upset him so, but he refuses to tell me.

I press the the intercom button, and the buzzing sound has him rattled.

"Jack?"

He lifts his head, and looks around.

"Would you like to try at least a little breakfast? You need to at least try to eat something."

His fingers are in his dyed green hair, pulling at the longer strands as he shakes his head no to my offer. I sigh, and adjust my glasses.

I press the intercom button again.

"How about coffee? I know that you much love coffee from what I've observed."

The blue eyes peer his folded arms, with the glassy look of someone who has been crying way too often for way too long. He shakes his head no again, and there is a broken sob in the small room.

I press the intercom button again.

"What can I do to help?"

"Let me die...I want to die."

I knew that this one was unstable, but not at all to this extent. The bed sheets and other items were already removed to avoid a suicide attempt, but there is so much pain. The slender hands begin to pull at the loose strings of his long sleeved shirt, and the sniffles continue to fill the air. The glassy eyes look around again at the two camera hanging from the corners of the room, as if waiting for me to speak again.

I press the intercom button.

"I can't do that Jack. I'm sorry. Once I get some testing done, I can take you back, and pay you for your time but...that's all I can do."

"That's not enough. I was doing better until I saw your face. Why do you have to look so much like him? I..I was doing better."

His small shoulders hunched over as he wraps his arms around his slender knees and rocks back and forth. The sobs are louder now, distorting the microphones I have placed in the room with him. The pale light of the naked bulbs make his skin look almost sickly yellow, and I move away from the images on the screen. Jack should never look that Jack.

No Jack ever should look that hopeless.

If I more fast I should be able to get him back within a few days. Then with the money I give him, and some counselling he should do better. I pull off the lab coat and drape it on the top of my desk chair, sit down and begin to work.

Subject: Jack McLoughlin

Plane discovered: #32

Observation day: 3

Physical traits: No difference from control subject, with the exception of weight loss due to severe depression brought on before removal for observation and testing.

Mental traits: Highly unstable with suicidal thoughts stemming from death of #32's Mark Fischbach from Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

General thoughts: Will need to highly consider force feeding of some sort if subject refuses to eat more than another day. Testing needs a fairly healthy specimen to undergo treatments needed for regeneration of cells to be successful.

Ideas to assist subject:

I pause at this line, my pen tapping on the hard surface of my table, and my mind racing to come up with ideas as to how to help him. Mark had been dead for roughly three months, so that was clearly my error. I must do more research before jumping in. My impatience is getting the better of me.

Trying to pull myself out of my thoughts, I glance at the time. Perhaps I can get Jack to eat a small amount of lunch. If he's anything like he should be he loves sweets, so I grab a slice of chocolate cake from the small fridge along with a freshly made chicken sandwich. It's only when I get back to the observation room that I see him, and the lunch is forgotten.

His blue eyes were wide opened and empty, sitting up on the cold floor, head tilted as if trying to understand an incredibly confusing question. The hands, resting gently at his side and the dark blue long sleeved shirt wrapped tightly around his slender neck and the other end tied around the narrow post of the bed.

"Jack!"

I already knew it was too late to save him. I had been gone way to long, but I still had to try. Laying him on his back and breathing for him was all that I could do now, pressing down on his chest and hoping that maybe I could save not only him, but maybe even me instead. The eyes were the same. The mouth. The fingers and toes.

I wasn't prepared for this as much as I told myself that I was. I had failed Jack all over again. He was dead in my arms once again.

No.

I have to keep trying. More research, and better surveillance when the next one arrives. More care and compassion. Look for more stability and less pain just behind the eyes. I can do this. I need to do this. For the both of us.

For my Jack.