Strictly speaking, the experimental subjects at Grigori were never allowed to see each other. However, by no means were measures taken to prevent them from sharing the occasional passing glance.

#06 is tested more often than the other two in his project. He is more cooperative, for whatever reason. The researchers could not care less for the why.

And so it is the other two that tend to watch him pass by. Out of his cage, but escorted: still in captivity.

#05 sees #06, notices him. He becomes a fixture in #05's life, an observation, a reserved area, a part of him. Does #06 notice?

Days pass, weeks pass, months and years. And then it happens. It starts as a day like any other, until the end of it is nearing. He hears commotion before he sees the redhead, walking at an oddly leisurely pace to stand before his cell. Unattended, unrushed, unbound.

"I'm #06," he greets, and his voice is so warm, so full, for one who has had so much taken from him.

At first, the dark haired boy does not respond, waiting to wake up from this strangely real dream. And then he figures he may as well go along with it. It is an interesting dream, such a change from the forced monotony that is life.

"#05," he returns, his voice sounding so entirely foreign, even to his own ears. When did he last speak? He cannot remember, not at all.

A short pause stretches between them, but this is no time for such things.

"Let's go," one of them says. And the other follows.