Chapter Text
After I healed up, we started walking again. I leaned most of my weight against 035—more out of comfort than weakness now—and 049 followed behind us, his steady footsteps a quiet rhythm. Micah skipped ahead, humming to himself and playing a game with his shadow.
“We should escape,” I muttered, mostly to the two at my side. “Like, for real.”
035 chuckled, adjusting his arm around my waist as he helped keep me balanced. “I thought you were a willing prisoner, Zore.”
“I am,” I admitted with a shrug. “But… Micah isn’t. He deserves better than these horrible corridors and being locked away just because he’s different. We could live somewhere happy. Or something.”
Behind us, 049 made a low hum of consideration. “The Foundation would likely track us down no matter where we went. I still have work to do curing the pestilence… and 035 requires hosts.”
“I could get someone I know to make 035 a permanent host,” I offered, glancing sideways at the mask. “I mean… it wouldn’t be easy, but I have connections. Someone who owes me.”
035 perked up at that. “A permanent host, you say? With style, I hope.”
“I’ll make sure it looks fancy,” I smirked.
049 was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Even if we were to flee, our lives would be unstable. Constantly running. Constantly hiding. Are you certain that’s a life you would want?”
“No,” I said. “But I’d do it for him.”
I watched Micah up ahead, his joy so simple and unburdened in this moment. He looked back at us and waved with both hands before going back to hopping from one tile to the next.
“He should get to have a real childhood,” I continued. “Even if I don’t get the fairytale ending, he should at least get the choice .”
“I didn’t expect you to be the domestic type,” 035 said, his voice oddly soft.
“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “But then we started acting like a weird, violent little family. It’s rub off on me.”
035 looked down at me, then over at 049. “I vote yes, for the record. Permanent host, cute kid, hot plague doctor, and you? Sounds like my kind of chaos.”
049 exhaled like he was reconsidering the entire situation. “I… will think about it.”
“That’s not a no,” I pointed out, and 035 squeezed my side approvingly.
Micah suddenly ran back to us, grabbing my hand and swinging it with both of his. “Where are we going next?”
“Somewhere better,” I told him. “Eventually.”
And I meant it.
✦
A few hours later, 035 had taken over carrying Micah again. The kid had fallen asleep with his head tucked beneath 035’s chin, curled up like a cat and dead to the world.
“So,” 035 said lightly, voice almost melodic as he walked beside me, “how would you get me a permanent host, dearest?”
I hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”
“Oh, I love complicated,” 035 grinned beneath the mask. “Lay it on me.”
I shrugged and looked ahead, voice lower now. “I know a god or two.”
That made even 049 pause behind me.
“There’s a god named Nyvannis,” I continued. “Old, strange thing. Big fan of riddles and impossible questions. He’s… a friend of mine.”
“A god is your friend?” 035 echoed, intrigued. “Zore, darling, you really do know how to pick your allies.”
“He used to babysit me, actually,” I muttered, lips twitching at the memory. “He never let me touch the moon though. Said it was rude to ask.”
049 made a small, incredulous sound. “You’ve kept company with divine entities and never mentioned this? ”
“Didn’t come up,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “And anyway, Nyvannis can probably help. He can make you a body that won’t disintegrate. Won’t reject you. Something… tailored.”
“Custom built, how flattering.” 035 sounded almost giddy. “Though I’m surprised any god would work with us.”
I looked up toward the dark, stretching ceiling of the corridor. “He doesn’t like you. Either of you, really. But he’s never refused me. Not once.”
I could feel it, faintly. That pulse of awareness. The feeling of being watched through shadows, through walls, through the tick of time itself. Nyvannis was always watching.
And if I asked—if I really needed him—I knew he’d answer.
“Van is pretty nice when you get to know him though. He’ll warm up to you two eventually,” I say, adjusting my jacket and watching Micah sway gently in 035’s arms.
049 gives me that sharp, clinical look of his. “You… nickname a god?”
I grin. “Of course. He hates it, which makes it more fun.”
035 chuckles, his voice rich with amusement. “Ah, so you treat divinity with the same level of disrespect you treat us. How comforting.”
“He hasn’t smited me yet,” I say with a shrug. “I think he secretly likes it.”
“You also said Van is the one who owes you earlier,” 049 cuts in, walking a step closer to us. “You’re sure he could provide a permanent host for our friend?”
“Mmhm.” I don’t meet his eyes. “He’s… not someone I talk about much. Doesn’t like attention. Gets twitchy when people start saying his name too much.”
“Twitchy?” 035 repeats with intrigue. “A god with social anxiety? Oh, I must meet him.”
I laugh once under my breath. “He’s not anxious. He just has a particular way of being. He warned me about you two, you know.”
049 straightens slightly. “Warned you?”
“Yeah,” I reply, tone flippant but my eyes staying forward. “Said you’d be trouble. And for 035, said he didn’t like your energy.”
035 gasps, mock offended. “My energy ? I’m delightful.”
“Sure,” I smirk. “And annoying.”
Micah stirs again and lets out a tiny sigh before settling back against 035’s shoulder. I reach over and adjust the kid’s hood gently.
We had found him some random clothes from a random SCP children supplies room. We got very very lucky.
“He didn’t exactly leave ,” I add after a pause. “Just… stopped talking. Van’s the kind of guy who watches in silence when he’s annoyed. Or disappointed. Or just playing cosmic chess four dimensions to the left. Or if he’s just busy with other stuff. I still feel him sometimes, but I do wonder why he hasn’t said anything throughout this whole mess.”
049 hums, but doesn’t push. 035, surprisingly, stays quiet for a beat too.
Eventually, I sigh and stretch my arms behind my head. “But like I said, maybe he’ll warm up to you two. He’s got a soft spot for chaotic strays.”
“And you,” 035 says with a smirk. “The king of chaotic strays.”
“Damn right,” I reply, grinning.