A/N: Going for a new twist on my usual Eliot-gets-kidnapped idea. For this one, I used the present tense rather than the past tense, which should make the reader feel more involved in the story. Also, I wrote from Hardison's perspective. Let me know what you guys think!
In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Hardison groans in pain. God, why does his head feel like it's splitting open? He screws his eyes more tightly shut, trying to squeeze the pounding ache out from behind them. The more time he takes to think without looking around, the less he wants to open them. He realizes that his whole body aches. His bones feel like they're rusted into place; he probably hasn't moved in a while. Did he fall asleep at his computer again? If he did, his back will bug him like a-
No, he isn't at his computer. He isn't in a chair or a bed. It actually... it feels like he's on the ground. It's cold. Hard. Like concrete. No, it is, it's rough and hard and cold concrete.
What the hell?
He can feel that his wrists are cold too... metal. There's metal arou-
Is he handcuffed?
Those are definitely handcuffs. He shifts in discomfort at the thought. And when he does, he hears and feels the sharp scraping sound, the clinking, the weight of...
chains.
Oh, hell no.
~
His headache is a bit duller now, but he still refuses to open his eyes. He just grinds his forehead into the ground below him and thinks, What did I do this time?
Apparently someone sees his movement, because something moves in the room. Before Hardison can flinch, the movement stops and he hears a soft grunt.
A familiar, edgy grunt. One of impatience. Really, it can't have come from anyone but...
"Eliot?"
~
Without a second thought, Hardison's eyes shoot open. They widen immediately as he takes in his surroundings. A windowless, dark, dungeon of a concrete room. Of course, when his eyes flit over a body, they shoot back.
It's Eliot, but Hardison almost doesn't recognize him. The hitter is lying on the ground, his hands cuffed behind him and linked to a chain that run up into the ceiling. He's sort of curled in on himself. His hair covers his face, but he shakes it out of the way to see the hacker. He looks too vulnerable to be Eliot Spencer, ultimate scarer of computer-ridden geniuses. Geniusi? Geni? Gen-
"H-" Eliot's voice breaks and he grunts, swallows, tries again. "Hardison."
"What the hell's goin' on? Man, I don't care what I told Parker, I ain't into that kinky shit, this ain't funny." The hacker's half-hearted attempt at escaping the gravity of the situation dies off as Eliot's eyes focus on him.
"Shh," The hitter hisses, nodding toward the cell door. They hear some men walking by, but the footsteps die off in a moment. Eliot relaxes a bit and turns his head toward Hardison. "You hurt?"
Hardison quirks an eyebrow. "Really? I'm chained up in a freaking dungeon! Damn, I always knew some white people was gonna try an' bring back slavery, they too damn lazy, bound ta happen.."
"Shut up."
Hardison does, startled. Usually, Eliot would reply in annoyance that, no, it wasn't about race, and no, this wasn't about anything else he continued to rant about. But now that the hacker notices his teammate's short answers, he sees that the hitter isn't quite in the same condition. He's jerking slightly. He looks... not quite anxious, but wary. There's a bruise forming just under his left eye, and one that's already dark and painful-looking around his neck. No wonder his voice sounded so rough. He must have been strangled pretty harshly when he was taken.
"Don't say anything," Eliot grinds out, ignoring his cellmate's stare. "Whatever they say, don't give them what they want."
"Why in the hell would I do that? I gotta tell 'em something or th-"
"Don't matter what they do, what they say. Don't answer. Don't call attention to yourself. Stay small and quiet."
"What am I, some scared kid? Come on."
"Hardison, for Christ's sake, just don't let them know you got brains. If you talk back, or if they think you care about what happens to-"
"So what, I'm just gonna sit back and watch whatever happens?"
"You move or talk, and you won't live to see what happens."
"What, and you will? What makes you think you can control what they do? You're not the expert ninja guy right now, we're in the same chains."
Eliot's eyes glint darkly. "How many times you been locked up in a sadist's dungeon?"
Hardison pauses. "Wait, we're..."
They hear footsteps outside the door again, but this time, those outside stop to open it. Eliot looks toward the opening door, then back at Hardison. The hacker sees the warning in the hitter's eyes and nods, silently promising not to speak.