postictal: (behind you)
Tim W█████ ([personal profile] postictal) wrote in [community profile] bigapplesauce2015-05-18 10:15 pm

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.
wildmage_daine: (wolf alert or curious)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2015-06-18 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
Daine has other business; that's true enough. But it was Tim they came for, and she's going to make sure he's sensible and capable of moving before she just leaves Jay to take care of him. She slips into the cell in wolf shape, scenting the air. The smell of blood is old and stale, but not so faint as to be covered up by the fresher scents of chemicals and fear. She trots up to Tim and gives him a swift once-over with her heightened senses, satisfied that they haven't injured him. Nothing's broken, he's awake, and Jay ought to be able to handle him on his own.

She lifts a paw to Tim's other shoulder, rests it there for a solemn moment, then drops it back to the floor. Transferring her gaze to Jay, she reshapes her mouth and says, "Get him out of here. Quickly." Then, hackles raised and muzzle wrinkled in a snarl, she slips back out into the hallway. There are other doors that want opening.
deadeyedchild: waiting on you (the fuck was that)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
He favors Daine with a curt nod, not taking his eyes off Tim. "They were waiting for me at the apartment," he says, quick and fevered. "I recognized them and I ran. Daine scared them off and now we're getting everyone out. Get up, we have to go."

He takes Tim's wrist and tries to pull his arm over his shoulders, tries to help him up to his feet. He fucked this up once because he wasn't using both hands. Not this time. No camera this time.

deadeyedchild: so is this where Alex... (you are distorted)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
The curtness doesn't really register, it's to be expected, all things considered. Jay lets him go, making a beeline instead for the door and glancing out to make sure there's no one to obstruct their path out. There are a lot of people running around, but they're all freed prisoners themselves; nobody wants anything to do with them, they all just want out.

"Follow me," he says, and steps out. He doesn't want to pull too far ahead but he doesn't want to go slowly either, so he splits the difference by moving at a heightened pace and constantly turning to make sure Tim is still there.

"Daine's gonna tear this place apart," he says with grim, distant satisfaction. "So no one's gonna come after you."
deadeyedchild: what did you do (regrets everything)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
"What?" Jay stops and turns, staring at Tim, his hand at his pocket. "Shit. Okay, I can - we could tell Daine to look for it, or her friend Seth, he's the one who unlocked the - goddammit." He kicks the wall with an furious grunt, of all things, of all fucking things. And it's your fault, never forget that, it's all your fault.

He yanks his phone out of his pocket and is halfway through a text to Daine before he remembers no, she can't do that right now, and she wouldn't be checking her phone even if she could.

"We can tell one of the animals," he says, gritting his teeth. "I don't know how else to... I'm sorry."

The apology sort of slips out, and his shoulders slump a little. He doesn't stop moving but he presses a hand to his face as he goes. "I'm so sorry, Tim."
deadeyedchild: Leave. Now. (I am not a hero)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
It's not fucking fine, but who is he to argue, and he can't exactly blame Tim for just wanting to get out of here. The full nuance of his apology seems lost on him, which is just as well. They can have that out when they're in relative safety.

He keeps moving, quiet and determined, through the tide of people. He'd been paying much better attention to the route this time but it's moot either way, since everyone is pretty much streaming toward the exits. Some of these people must be employees, he realizes, evacuating.

"Almost there," he murmurs, rounding the corner to the last big hall, at the end of which is the exit into Columbus Circle.
deadeyedchild: did you know who it was (this wasn't supposed to happen)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
"Uh-" Shit, didn't think about that, did you? "I - I don't know." He leads them to the door and follows the tide of people out, then banks a sharp right aiming for the stairs up and out to the street. He turns back compulsively, every few seconds, like if he loses sight of Tim for one second that'll be it, he'll disappear.

Things have a way of disappearing, after all.

"We could go home," he says faintly. "I think it'll be safe there, what with... all that." He waves a hand vaguely back toward where they just came from. "Or, I dunno, somewhere. I dunno."

Why doesn't he know. What fucking good is he.

"Daine'll come back," he says softly, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic. "She'll make sure we're okay."
deadeyedchild: so is this where Alex... (you are distorted)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-18 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah. Okay." That old chestnut. Fair enough. He leads them above ground, up and out, and it's overwhelmingly open and loud and bright but they can't afford to falter. He slows down a little, keeping step with Tim.

"There's a bunch around here, or do you wanna get further away," he says, glancing over repeatedly, nervously. Does Tim know why they took him? Does he know it all leads back to that day Jay betrayed him (again)?
deadeyedchild: in case something happens to me (stay home)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-19 03:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Jay leads him quietly across the street, taking a fairly random route to put a few blocks between them and the park, before finally picking a hotel at random. He fishes out his own wallet in case they need to split the cost. The concierge is way too polite, neither he nor Tim are equipped for it, and what must they look like, two miserable looking boys getting a room together in the middle of the day. Well whatever, he doesn't care. Can't afford to care.

Finally they're in the room, quiet and isolated at last; he slips the do-not-disturb sign on the door and latches it shut.

He takes a moment to just lean his forehead against the door, breathing, trying to pull himself together. Then he turns around.

"You okay?" he murmurs.
deadeyedchild: what did you do (regrets everything)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-19 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Jay stands there for a moment before settling down on the other bed, sitting opposite, his elbows braced on his knees and his head dropping into his hands. The bandage Seth put on his arm has started to come off in all the mayhem, and he reaches out to smooth it over, running his fingers up and down it, a little nervous tic.

"I'm sorry," he says again, tired and destitute. He laces his fingers together under his chin and looks away, scared to look at Tim as he says, "It was my fault."
deadeyedchild: did you know who it was (this wasn't supposed to happen)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-19 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
He buries his face under his hands, pressing bony fingers against his eyes.

"I had a camera," he says, muffled through his palms. "The day we went there and met that - those fucking cats. I made a camera out of the lint in your pocket, it was recording, I was just bored, I didn't know it would... I didn't mean to..."

He doesn't want to open that up again. He keeps his face hidden, feeling his skin burn, feeling the really deep bite of shame, it was always so easy to just blame his shit on other people, wasn't it? This fucking hurts and he hates it.

"I dropped it," he says, his voice hoarse. "And I thought it would... I mean it was like microscopic I didn't think anyone would - but when I got regular sized again, I guess..."

He rubs his hands roughly over his face and looks away again, staring hard at the wall, his hands folded together so hard his knuckles are white. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, as if that even matters, as if that will change anything. He's fucked up so much now, what possible reason does Tim have to keep putting up with him.
deadeyedchild: when you say "trouble", do you mean...? (excuse the fuck out of you)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-20 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
Jay looks up slowly, finally looks at Tim. He's just - shrugging it off. Not acting pissed at him, not bitter or angry like he should be, just... like it doesn't even make a difference.

For a moment he just doesn't say anything, not sure what to do. Is Tim letting him off the hook here or what? Should he try to argue no, it was my fault, you should be mad at me? How does he even proceed here?

"Oh," he finally says, stupidly. "I mean, yeah, I guess, but..."

But would they have abducted you for that? Locked you up, treated you like an animal, like something dangerous?

He huffs out a breath. Tim isn't fooling either of them with that, but if he doesn't want to get into it, who is Jay to force the issue. "Seems like it's about time someone took them down," he says. "If this is how they deal with squatters. Kinda overkill."

Really, really weak fucking joke, but hey, he's trying, okay.
deadeyedchild: the number you have dialed (look closely)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-20 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
Jay's expression hardens, slipping from bewilderment to indignation. "No," he blurts. "What are you - no. Nobody's locking you up, Tim, jesus."

He still feels sick when he thinks about Entry 66. He can't even imagine, doesn't want to, wants to avoid thinking about it as much as he can, Tim curled up in the corner losing his absolute shit drowning in that fucked up childhood, trapped in those little rooms.

And all Jay could say about it was you're not like Alex, at least not entirely.

"Look, if you - if that happens, then we'll deal with it," he says. "Somehow. But you don't deserve that."

He feels weird, strangely exposed, speaking so vehemently about this. He draws a breath and shrinks a little, curling inward. "We'll figure something out," he murmurs.
deadeyedchild: I know you're there (don't follow me)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-20 02:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"So what?" he says, head snapping up, vehemence flowing right back because it's better than this. "It's always been that way. Alex tried to fix everything and he couldn't, I tried to fix everything and I just made it fucking worse. You're the only one that made it, Tim!"

Other than Jessica.

Let's not talk about that.

"You stood up to it, you saved my fucking life that night." Has he ever acknowledged that? Ever thanked him? Probably not. "You did all of that without being locked up like some kind of freak so just - yeah, they took your pills and it's still there but that doesn't change anything, it doesn't mean you should just give up."

Jay never gives up.

Not ever.

He goes until it kills him. That's fine. That's probably what he deserves. Asking for it, charging headfirst into so much bullshit. Tim was always the one who deserved to fucking make it, he feels like he's seeing that clearly for the first time.

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