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hyperfixiation-station · 4 months

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Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.3

TW: Blood, Torture, Violence

Summary: You get rescued(finally)

Part 1, Part 2

Silent. From the moment Price had found you in that dingy cell, broken and bleeding, that was all you had been. You were silent when they moved you, though it had to have hurt with how many broken bones and lacerations you had. You were silent when the medics asked you where you were injured, how you had been hurt. You were silent through the debriefings, through the desperate attempts to find out what you had been through, what secrets you had spilled. You were silent through all of it.

It wasn’t your fault, not really. A mental barrier you had constructed during months of torture to keep secrets from spilling, a dam built with a mantra of DON’T TALK to keep your thoughts at bay as your captors repeatedly tried to draw them out of you.

Even now, when the rational part of your brain knew you were safe, knew that these men, the men you served with, the men who had tracked you down and saved you, were to be trusted, the barrier would not fall.

Every ‘what did they want from you, what did you see, did you recognize them, how many of them were there’ was met with silence. Anytime you opened your mouth you were hit with a wave of fear so strong it sent you into a panic attack.

They understood, in part. They had seen recordings, seen the rooms, seen your broken body at the time of rescue.

It took them 2 days to get to you after figuring out your location. They went in guns blazing, and tore the place to the ground. They split up, Price and Gaz taking the left with Soap and Ghost taking the right. They shot at anything that moved in their quest for vengeance, breaking down doors and checking every nook and cranny for where you might be locked up.

Price found you about a quarter of the way into the camp. He took the bottom floor and Gaz took the top as they cleared the building. He had stopped before a door that was different, metal and welded shut with a small little flap in the middle, instead of solid and wooden like the others. It took him and Gaz some prying and metalwork, but they got the door open.

Price almost cried when his eyes adjusted to the change in light. You lay curled in the corner, back to the wall as you shied away from the light. Your hair was tangled and matted with dried blood, your clothes were torn and dirty and your skin was crusted with so much blood and grime that he couldn’t even see you underneath it.

“Y/n?” He had called, but there was no response. He crept slowly toward you, keeping his movements as open and relaxed as possible. He crouched in front of you, taking note of your dilated pupils, sunken eyes, obviously malnourished form. He winced at the weird bulges in your skin, indicative of broken bones.

“Sorry love.” He whispered to you, taking a steadying breath as he slid his arms under you and lifted. Hise expected you to cry out, the action no doubt causing unspeakable pain, but you didn’t. In fact, you didn’t react at all. He didn’t dwell on it then, opting to get you somewhere safe and secure.

“9 broken ribs, a broken left femur, both shoulders dislocated, pneumonia, dehydration and severe malnutrition, multiple lacerations that required stitches, broken wrists, all 10 fingers broken, right kneecap dislocated, multiple concussions, and a hairline fracture on their skull.” The doctor had said. It hurt all of them to hear how badly wounded you were.

They gave you two weeks to recover before asking any questions. The first week you were unconscious, in a coma as your body tried to heal you. The second week you spent in worrying silence, saying nothing to anyone, not to your doctors, not to your teammates, not to your friends.

Price sent Ghost in first. He had had similar experiences and Price figured he would be able to relate. However when Ghost came storming out an hour later, slamming the door behind him, he came to regret that decision.

“I got over it.” He had said, “Why can’t they?” Price reminded him that not everyone responds to trauma the same way and sent him away.

Soap tried next, and came out near tears after sending you into a panic attack after calling you ‘Little Bird’. He was confused until Ghost not-so-gently reminded him of the video they had seen, of the words ‘Pretty Bird’ being used over and over. Ghost pretended not to hear him throwing up in the toilet later.

Gaz tried, to no avail. He ended up just sitting in silence with you, showing you videos of his cats. He counted it a victory when your busted lips twitched into a tiny grin for a few seconds.

And on and on it went, with refusing to speak to anyone. They were losing hope until the psychiatrist finally spoke with you.

“GIve them time.” She said gently, “You trying to force a response will just make this worse.”

So they do. The higher-ups still want answers, of course, but Price manages to dissuade them from asking until you are out of the hospital. They spend the weeks treating you as normal as possible, stopping by to give you updates on missions, show you a video of Soap absolutely biffing it in training, tell you the latest gossip of which recruit is sleeping with who. But even though they are trying, they still handle you with kiddie gloves, afraid that the wrong word or look will make you shatter irreversibly.

Which brings you to now. It’s nearly 2 A.M, and visiting hours are long over as you stand unsteadily in the bathroom, staring at your pale, pathetic form in the mirror. You open and close your mouth, trying and failing to get words out, the barrier cemented in your mind by blood and tears too strong to break down.

‘Speak, you stupid fucking bitch!’ You scream mentally at yourself, ‘You have to speak! If you don’t you'll be discharged and you'll never be able to serve again! They already think you’re broken, and if you can’t tell them different they’ll never treat you the same. Stop. being. So. Fucking. Pathetic.’

Tears streak your cheeks as you slide down the wall. You draw your knees up, hiding your face in them as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. Rationally, you know you are safe. Rationally, you know that if you were to speak, nothing would happen. But it’s not the rational part of your brain that is keeping you from speaking.

Going dark in that hellhole you were trapped in had saved your life, and you couldn’t seem to get past it. Sure, not responding had almost killed you right at first, as Kravchenko became more and more ruthless in his attempts to get you to speak again, but eventually he grew bored. His little plaything had lost its sparkle, and he locked you in a cell and threw away the key as soon as he lost interest. But starving to death was still a better alternative to the all-consuming agony that had been your day-to-day.

And now, the subconscious, irrational part of your brain was convinced that if you spoke you’d be dragged right back and strapped to a table, that you’d wake up to find that your rescue had all been a dream. That you-

“-/n! Y/N! Y/N!” You flinch, startled out of your reverie. You look down to see rivulets of blood running down your arms, your nails having gouged holes into your skin. You look up to see the eyes of a worried nurse, holding your hands in hers.

“There you are. We lost you for a minute. Do you mind letting me bandage you up here?” Her voice is soft and gentle and you find yourself nodding, letting her lead you back to your bed where she cleans and bandages your upper arms.

“What are you doing up so late sweetie?” Her voice is calming, almost hypnotic, “I mean, I’m awake cause I get paid to be, but you should be sleeping all your injuries away, shouldn’t you dearie? If I was you, I’d of been cryin’ too, being awake at 2 A.M. for free.” She laughs, the sound echoing through the room, “Course, I suppose you probably think I’m crazy for agreeing to work this shift anyways. Did you know I was supposed to have this shift off? But Roberta’s kids have the flu and so I agreed-” She keeps talking, her voice soothing your fears and helping you relax. YOu can’t help but mentally thank Roberta’s kids for being sick, for sending this wonderful lady who does not treat you like you're going to break at any moment to you tonight.

“And that should about do it dearie. Just press that little call button if you need any more help, alright?” She says cheerfully. She squeezes your hand and heads to the door before pausing.

“Make sure to get some sleep.” She leaves, gently closing the door behind her. Something about her makes you feel safer than you have since falling off that helicopter. Maybe it was her motherly demeanor, maybe it was the fact that she treated you like a normal human being, maybe it was the fact that she could have put you on a psych hold an ddin;t, but whatever it was, you loved her for it.

And as the door closes and the room stills, you whisper a quiet “thanks.”

Part 4?

~tags~

@louthedino @scarletdfox @dangerkitten1705 @warenai @spineless-spino @rainy-darling

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auspicioustidings · 5 months

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Firewatch Part 9

Summary: Johnny and Kyle come to a realisation and you take a chance to escape.

Words: 2.3k

CW: Kidnapping

You had mostly expected to wake up in Price's arms, but you instead woke up to see him asleep in one of the armchairs. He was a big man, it was a little ridiculous to see him sleeping in a chair. You glanced out the window, it looked like it was maybe late afternoon.

Had Price stayed the whole time then? If he was going to stay why not climb into bed with you since that clearly seemed to be their play here? It kept you so off balance that none of them had… Well there were plenty of horror stories on the news for you to imagine. And they had kidnapped you. Four men had kidnapped you and had made it clear they at least wanted you. It was starting to sink in that at any time they could decide to have you and there wouldn't be much you could do about it. But they hadn't. The one time one of them hadn't backed off as soon as you asked there had been consequences for him.

You felt more rested if still exhausted, but it was enough to feel anger building again. It was infuriating that they weren't monsters. You didn't want them to be because the thought was terrifying, but at least then you'd know where you stood. At least then you could be solid in hating them rather than finding them to be the kind of men you would have liked to have known before this mess.

It was a temptation to just roll over and go back to sleep in some form of protest, but you resisted and got out of bed as quietly as you could. Price didn’t stir and for a moment you had the mad thought that you could sneak out the window. You still didn’t have shoes, but if you snuck out and they didn’t notice would it give you enough of a head start? Would you even be able to navigate the woods? There was a dirt trail for cars to come to and from, it must go the whole way to town if the police had visited. If you followed it, kept just in the treeline so you weren’t so easily found…

You were starting to drift towards the window in a bit of a trance, the only thing snapping you out of it was the sound of voices somewhere else in the cabin. You paused and focused in to listen.

“--love her anymore?”

“Come on Soap, you think the same.”

“...aye maybe. Naw really what we signed up for is she?”

“That’s it, better bury our girl out in the yard then.”

“Och I’ll miss her ye ken? Spent so long loving her.”

You’d take your chances in the woods.

–

“I think I might actually have a crush on her.”

Soap gave Gaz a look that belayed the fact he thought what had just come out of his mouth was utter nonsense. He was sat at the kitchen island, fingers rubbing the fabric of the blanket Ghost had stolen from your house. Dosia was grumpily headbutting Soap’s legs and then pretending she hadn’t now that nobody she actually liked was about to pay her any attention. He had originally tried to pet her and gotten hissed at, so now he was steadfastly pretending she wasn’t showing him any affection to make her feel better.

“Ye’ve been in love with her for a year and now ye have a crush?”

Gaz sighed and rested his head on his arm, staring at the fabric in his fingers. It was a blanket that didn’t seem like it belonged to you anymore. It had belonged to the girl he had loved that was true, but she had never existed had she? She was this delicate little thing, a pretty little dove he had wanted to keep on display and care for.

That was not the woman in the cabin with them. No, that woman was brash and swore and fought. She had fuck all manners when she ate and snorted when she laughed and was trying to pretend she hadn’t. She treated her cat like it was her baby. She wasn’t some innocent little lamb either, she was a great kisser and wasn’t shy about barking at him to shove his fingers in her. By all accounts, that woman was not someone he would ever think was one he would like.

It terrified him actually. You were real now and you were not what he thought, so why was it so easy for him to let that dream girl go? Why did he touch this blanket and not feel a damn thing after all that obsession? Instead there was another feeling bubbling up when he thought about you. He didn’t know if it was love, but then he was pretty sure what he had been feeling was never love in the first place. This new feeling was thrilling and fragile but he wanted to keep it.

“I like her. The real person. She’s sort of a pain in the arse but she’s fun.”

“The real person?”

“We really fucked it all up didn’t we?”

Soap sighed and leaned over the counter, head lolling into one hand while the other played with the edges of the blanket. The tangible object they had associated with you all this time. Or well, that they had associated with some imagined girl. They really had fucked it all up.

“So now ye just don’t love her anymore?”

“Come on Soap, you think the same.”

All things considered, he did. He smiled with a bittersweet fondness at the blanket, feeling like he was letting go of something.

“...aye maybe. Naw really what we signed up for is she?”

“That’s it, better bury our girl out in the yard then.”

The two looked at one another with a grin. It was a silly thing to bury a blanket. But it was what it represented that was important. It was burying an obsession with someone that wasn’t real, wasn’t a person. It was letting go of what they thought they had wanted and embracing what it was they had, because even after so short a span of time they had realised that what they had was so much better. It was real. You were real.

“Och I’ll miss her ye ken? Spent so long loving her.”

He shared a small smile with Gaz. Johnny didn’t know how to pick apart the flurry of emotions in him and figure out how he wanted this to end, he just knew he wanted to keep talking to you, learning about you. It was going to be a lot harder now to keep you here against your will now that he liked you as a real person, but he was nothing if not a selfish bastard.

They put the blanket lovingly aside, Johnny gave Dosia some scratches behind the ears which she duly pretended was not happening while purring and they got to work making a frankly irresponsible amount of brunch in the hopes they could get to your heart through your stomach.

–

It was a miracle Price hadn’t woken up. A small part of you knew it meant he was exhausted as well, that this was hard on him. Well his two men were already about to get rid of you and presumably start again with a nicer, more receptive girl. She probably enjoyed cooking and cleaning. Was probably going to be wonderful and submissive and would never yell at them. Johnny would never lose his temper with her. Simon would never wind up punished because he lost control with her. Would Price go and buy her favourite shampoo? Would she like tasting oranges from Kyle’s fingers? You had.

The “road” really wasn’t much of a road. It was painful to walk on in bare feet and you were hissing every time you landed on a particularly sharp stone. You saw there was a pick up truck and considered stealing it, but you didn’t want to go searching for the keys knowing it increased the likelihood of you getting caught. When you glanced in just to make sure they weren’t in the car you saw it was a stick shift. Well that idea was out, you had learned on an automatic and would absolutely stall loudly if you tried to drive this thing.

So you were walking. Not running because you would absolutely wind up with a broken ankle and then you were really screwed. You could grit your teeth through it. Your mind drifted to what the hell you would say when you emerged. If you told the police the truth then all four of them were going to jail. If you lied then they would be free to take you again. Christ you felt bad enough about Simon being banished to the tower, could you handle all of them being put in a cell?

God it was sweltering, a stark comparison to how cold it had been last night. You had to take off the hoodie and tie it off around your waist. Maybe you should tear it apart to wrap around your feet? But then what happened when the sun set and the cold came in. You hoped you would be out of the woods by then. This place would be terrifying in the dark.

You stayed just off the road in the treeline, hoping that it would make it tricky to spot you from the tower if you were under the trees. At some point you stopped taking breaks fearing that if you stopped again you would not be able to get up. Your feet hurt, you were thirsty and hot and hungry. You wanted to curl up with your damn cat. It was with a dose of self-loathing that you realised you wanted to laugh with Kyle when she was mean to Johnny.

When you heard the distant rumble of the truck you moved further from the road, waiting for the sound to pass. They knew you were gone then. Were doing the most obvious thing first and going down the road to see if you were on it. You were far enough in the trees that you couldn’t see the road anymore. You hadn’t thought you had went that far, maybe only a few minutes, but you were turned around. You turned, trying to figure out which direction the road was with a mounting sense of panic.

Fuck. Idiot! You had seen the stories about what happened to people who went off the trail this far in the forest. It was fine near the edge where your cottage had been, where there were little walking trails (although admittedly the first few times you had ventured out you hadn’t spotted them), but this far out? You knew that they always said you should stay where you are, wait for someone to come and find you. Except they had no way of knowing which part of the road you had left from.

At least if you died it’d be on your own terms you tried to rationalise. They were going to kill you, but you had no guarantee they wouldn’t brutalise you first, so maybe wandering out never to be seen again was better. Just because your heart stupidly told you they were good people didn’t mean they were. You hoped they kept Dosia at least, they seemed fond enough of her.

You were angry at the tears welling up, knowing that you couldn’t really afford to lose any hydration. There was a sudden bitter regret for making fun of those survivalist shows. You should have paid attention. Were you supposed to try get to high ground? No, you should find water. Did you just pick the direction that was your best guess to get to the road? You’d be able to see the stars when the sun fully set, and the brightest would be North you thought. Didn’t much help knowing North because you could not visualise a map.

Your feet were so sore now. You sat against a tree, the discomfort of sitting on the ground vastly outweighed by the relief of getting weight off of your feet. You didn’t want to look and see how bad it was so you ignored it. You just let your head fall back against the tree trunk and closed your eyes, imagining you were back home. If the men that had kidnapped you were in your little imagining it was not something you would ever admit out loud.

–

Simon Riley did another rotation. Price had called it in an hour ago and ordered him to keep a watch for you while they searched on the ground. Fuck he was so mad at you, what were you thinking? When they got you back he was going to cuff you to the fucking bed anytime they left you alone. Night was falling, the temperature was dropping.

“Come on sweetheart, give me something” he mumbled, looking for any sign from the trees.

You would never have made it on foot even if you had taken the road, not without shoes, not so late in the day. It got dark out here, so dark you could barely tell where you were going without a torch. What the fuck had happened while he was gone? He trusted his team, he couldn’t entertain the idea that they might have been so cruel to you that you thought dying out there was better.

It was another 8 hours until there was finally an update from Price over the radio.

“Found her. Get home Simon, she’s in a bad way.”

#mhairiwrites #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #not the direction I thought this was going when I started writing this chapter this morning #and yet here we are

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