bigapplesauce | we will drag you from where you are to where you belong [closed]

[tw: some brutality and beating, later some panic and flashbacking to hospitalization]

Keep your head down, stay off the radar, just act like the normal person you aren't, and everything will be fine.

That was the general idea.

Was.

But then, he should've expected something like this. When you come home from work and the door's not been open a minute before a couple ominously stone-faced guys come striding in, it generally throws up a few warning flags. And when opening your mouth to ask um sorry, but what the hell incites one of them to bring you down in a hard tackle that sends your cheek stinging against the carpet and your knees scraping along the ground, pure fight-or-flight impulse kicks in. Fight and flight, actually, and Tim manages to crack one of them a solid right hook across the jaw that leaves a darkening bruise before they wrestle him into submission. Maybe if he wasn't him right now - fuck.

In the end, there isn't much he can do against two guys who look to have something like six inches on him, and a few minutes of hopeless thrashing and several well-placed kicks to his ribs later, it's pretty much a lost cause. The apartment interior's a wreck; Tim definitely heard something shatter on his way to the ground, and he feels the distant, bizarre urge the apologize to Jay for being responsible for fucking things up yet again. He's sorry, Jay, really he is. He didn't mean to this time, honestly.

And that's when one of the guys sinks a fist into his stomach, and Tim loses track of things for a little while as his entire respiratory system promptly goes to shit.

He wakes in a little square room of concrete walls and windowless gloom.

Fuck. Fuck no. He lurches to his feet, all dizziness and nausea, and pounds at the door that looks more solid than any locked hospital door fuck, and he screams let him out and is anyone there? and please I need help please until his voice rasps into hoarseness and his vocal chords feel wet, as if they're torn and bleeding. His fists sting from banging against the door, its impassively hollow tone drumming against his ears. His jacket's gone. His medication. They fucking took it off him, they took everything, they took him away, and if there's anything he can do to help his situation, it's think and be calm and be compliant and be cooperative and not panic right now, which he isn't, who would even think that?

Because he's not a scared little kid anymore. He's not, he swears he's not. There's nothing tall and specter-like in the room with him, and he's not curled in the corner with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them and he's not huddled like he's eight years old again, because he's not the lost little boy crammed into a hospital room with a plethora of confusing and contradictory symptoms. He's not.

It's just a dream, and any moment he's going to wake up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had been different in Carthak. She'd had to wait for it to arrive, that solid, certain knowledge of what she had to do. Now, it's so obvious it's almost tiresome. She taught the Emperor a lesson, and she'll teach the Rebels one, too. That's what she does, it seems. Fine.

"I'm going to take the place apart," she says, vaguely pleased at how reasonable she sounds. No need to worry; everything's under control. "You can help, if you want. Elsewise, I'll just do it on my own." She lifts a hand, catches herself before she can start nibbling her thumbnail, and instead taps a fingertip against her chin. "It'd be best if I knew where the cages were going in."

Jay nods his thanks and takes the painkiller, swallowing it dry, a trick he sort of had to pick up from Tim. "I'm going with you," he says immediately. There's just no question. He won't be much help, he knows that, but he has to be there. He just has to.

Seth only hesitates for a moment. "Me too," he says decisively.

It's something he's been thinking about for months. Sometimes fleetingly, vaguely, just a non-specific desire to get revenge, to free Manhattan of that place and make sure neither he nor anyone else ends up in the same situation again. Then sometimes not so vaguely, which led to an awful lot of information-gathering and planning. But in the end, the risk had always seemed too great - he'd had too much to lose.

He doesn't feel like that now. From the sound of it, he's not going to talk Daine out of this. And he can help. He can do what he's wanted to for so long. And if it all goes disastrously wrong, well... That's that.

"All the cells are on lower levels. The main floor's mostly living space, offices, storage. Stuff everyone's got access to," he rattles off. "There's dozens of people locked up down there, if not more. If you're rescuing your friend, you should let them all out. It'll create a distraction, too."

It's probably obvious that this isn't the first time Seth's considered this.

Daine nods, slow and thoughtful. She doesn't think they'll be needing more of a distraction than the one she'll be providing... but the more confusion they can sow, the better.

"Is there a way straight into the lower levels, without passing through the main floor?" That would be best. They could get in and get folk out without going through all the innocents who are just living there. They'll have time to get out before Daine takes on the rest of it.

Someone else will have to handle the evacuation, she realizes with a frown. All three of them are probably marked for capture. It's not as if they'll have to guess who the tiger defending Jay could have been. She pulls out her phone and fires off a text to Peeta, and after a moment's consideration, another to Aziraphale. Hopefully he won't try to stop them, not if he knows what the Rebels have been doing.

Jay stands back on his feet, a little shaky but no worse for wear. "Let's go," he says before Seth can answer. "We can talk on the move." He heads out, expecting them to follow, hands stuffed in his pockets. He feels pretty calm, not as calm as Daine maybe, but it's not like this is out of his element. He made a lifetime of doing dumb shit that was way over his head, and this time he has backup, competent backup. And this time there's no thing watching him from around the corner, and no masked folks running around and screwing things up. Everything feels strangely solid and clear. He knows what he's gonna do and he's gonna fuckin do it, end of story.

He doesn't even think about documenting it.

Seth follows, though he pauses on the way out to tell one of the clinic workers to call in more help. He doesn't say why, of course, even if many of them would help. He doesn't want to inadvertently tip anyone at the rebel base off. The fewer people in the know, the better. That's how he's always planned it - a surgical strike.

"There's two options," he answers, once he's rejoined the other two. "There's some stairs going down there not too far from the main entrance, but obviously there's more people there. Or there's a side entrance I think'll work. Locked, but I can get past that. It's barely used, but we'll have to enter from the train tunnels rather than the station."

Aziraphale gets back to her quickly, and she reads the texts as they walk. Good - he's going to help, and he's not asking questions or trying to talk her out of it. That makes things easier.

"Side entrance," she says. "Folk will want to use the main entrance to leave." And once it becomes clear that they're just on the lower level, there won't be so many guards up above to muck up an evacuation - which they might, elsewise. It won't be obvious just how much of a ruction she's planning on causing - not right off, anyway.

She looks at Seth, then Jay. "We open the cages and get the prisoners out. Then I'm going up."

"Okay," says Jay with a quick nod. "I don't have any, like... tactical... whatever, I don't want to get in the way." He looks at Seth. "You just get me to Tim and I'll get him out."

He doesn't like the idea of just leaving the hard part to Daine and this new guy, but on the other hand, Daine is frighteningly serious right now, and he's got a pretty good feeling she can handle herself. This is her business, and Seth's, more than his. He didn't really mean this to turn into a big thing, but if that's what they want to do then so be it. As long as he can get in, get Tim, and get out, he can leave the rest in their more capable hands and paws.

Seth nods in agreement at the plan, leading the way towards the underground and the appropriate train. It'll take almost half an hour to get to the appropriate entrance, and Seth expects a rather tense train ride. But at least they'll have a little time to hash out the most important details, and for Seth to inform them of the layout.

"What are you gonna do once you're up?" he asks, glancing over at Daine. He doesn't really know the extent of her powers, so some sort of fore-warning would be nice. He's got a few other things in mind besides letting people escape. He'll need to know the easiest way to incorporate that.

Daine pockets her phone and frowns, small and pensive. She wishes she had a bone army to work with, but the tunnels would be too cramped for most of them, anyway. There's no Graveyard Hag to help her - if 'help' was even the right word for it. She doesn't have any of the things she had in Carthak.

But as they descend into the underground and a familiar, whispering itch brushes against her mind, she thinks: well, I still have the rats.

Table that for the moment. She looks back up at Seth. "I s'pose I can't actually tear the place down." That might collapse the ground above, and the city's too busy for that, too many folk would get hurt. "But I'll smash up as much as I can. Expensive things. Records. Enough so they won't be able to put themselves back together in any kind of hurry."

Jay swipes his way through the turnstile, following Seth toward their train, eyes on both of them. This is all getting very serious very fast, and all he can think is a bitter sort of good. Let them destroy it all, rid themselves of the last remnants of danger posed toward Tim and himself. Destroy all the records, all the evidence of the two of them, the information gathered when he betrayed - well let's not think about that shall we.

"Sounds good to me," he murmurs, just in case anyone wanted his opinion.

we will drag you from where you are to where you belong [closed]

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