Subject A250: The Fallen

Sixteen: Minhokay

A/N: Hectic week, so sorry for the delay. But I have a degree now so that's pretty cool.

This song is so perfect. I love it. Have a listen.

When Trace woke up, everyone but one person had left the room. Upon seeing that Newt was missing from the couch where he'd slept, she pushed herself up to survey the rest of the room, wondering if he was the only one to leave.

In actual fact, the only one left was Minho. He sat, legs pulled up to his chin, on the other side of the room, perched on the ugliest purple armchair Trace had ever seen. He'd been deep in thought, but Trace's movement pulled him from it, and he stared at her with wide eyes. He looked exhausted...

"How long was I asleep?" she asked him.

Minho blinked once. "A long time. Maybe fourteen hours? The others woke up about three hours ago; they're at the front of the Berg."

"Fourteen hours?!"

Minho smirked a little. "Fourteen hours," he confirmed. "Guess you were tired."

"Guess so. Are we still moving?"

"No." He shook his head. "Jorge landed us on the outskirts of some abandoned village. He'll be wanting to start us up again soon though."

Trace nodded and started to get up, but Minho stood up and walked towards her, one hand outstretched. "I wanted to talk to you," he said, dropping his hand back to his side as he reached her.

"Oh," was all she managed to reply with. "That's why you're here."

He nodded and said nothing more. Trace took that as a sign that this was going to be a long discussion. She sat back down and pulled her handy-dandy couch cushion onto her lap, cradling it against her chest for comfort.

Minho sat down beside her and the couch jostled a little. "I want to say I'm sorry."

Trace shook her head quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. "Look, it's fine, Minho. They made you believe it; they put you up against me. It wasn't your doing." As she said those words, she began to realise something herself. "In fact," she continued, "they did the same to me-- just in a very different way. They were pitting us against each other, testing our limits, and through anger and pain-- we both gave in. "

Minho frowned down at his lap. "I shouldn't have believed them-- I didn't believe them for a long time, but the more they showed me, the easier it became to buy the lie, despite what I knew about you as a person."

Her eyes were wide and staring into the space ahead of her in some kind of daze and Trace found her lips were already moving to say something she wasn't planning on addressing. "You watched my trial," she said. "Phase Three."

Minho shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat.He clasped his hands together and then unclasped them, balling them into fists and finally resting them on his knees. "Yes," he confessed, eventually. "I did. And I understand. I saw what they put you through-- week after week-- and, honestly? I'm just proud of you for hanging on for as long as you did."

Her heart seemed to clench in her chest. "But...but I killed you."

Minho smirked his signature smile. "I'm still here, aren't I? You didn't kill me, Trace, and you lasted longer in there than any of the rest of us could-- myself included."

Trace stared at him. "That's not true."

"It is. I'm not as selfless as you are, Trace, and that's a fact. You saw how quickly I turned on you; how fast I was to call you a murderer; how unwilling I was to even let you plead your case. The truth is, you're a good person, Trace. Watching you complete Phase Two and Three only solidified that knowledge for me."