Disclaimer: I own nothing

Doug Penhall blinked his eyes slowly, allowing the adjustment from sleeping darkness to the dim light of the Hellhole he was in to be a success. Then he watched, almost helplessly, as two men with guns dropped the limp form of Tom Hanson to the ground mere feet in front of him. But if he moved, he was afraid something would happen to himself; or worse, Tom. A kick to the young man's stomach and the 'soldiers' left, leaving Doug alone with Tom. That was good, however, because Tom appeared to be in pain and Doug wanted to; he needed to, help his friend. It was his fault Tom was here; if he hadn't asked him to go to El Salvador with him, then he'd be back home in America, safe. But instead he was stuck here with Doug in this Hellhole.

Doug snapped from his thoughts when a soft moan passed through his friend's lips and he slowly headed towards the other man. His limbs were stiff and it was a bit painful to move, but Tom needed his help. And no amount of pain would prevent Doug from giving his friend the help he needed. Doug reached to help roll Tom onto his back instead of his side, and was surprised when Tom jerked at the touch. Doug waited and when Tom didn't make any more movement, he tried again. This time he was able to get a firm grip on the younger officer without hesitance, and he pulled Tom over so he rolled onto his back. Doug cringed when this elicited a small moan from the younger man; Doug hadn't wanted to hurt Tom; if he had. Where was Tom hurt, anyway? Doug couldn't tell and was afraid he may have hurt him further.

"Tommy? Can you hear me?" Doug asked, pushing some hay under Tom's head. "C'mon buddy, it's me, Doug. What did they do to you?" Doug pushed, but Tom just moaned.

"Please Tommy," Doug tried again. "I need to know where they hurt you."

"Hurts," Tom moaned. "Asked them. Not to," he continued, breathing heavily, as if speaking was painful; it probably was. "I-I said no," he quickly added, staring into Doug's eyes, fear filling his own. "I-I said. They wouldn't..." Tom paused, breathing in and out heavily. After another few seconds, he spoke again, "I-I'm sorry. I said no. They-they wouldn't listen." Tears now welled in Tom's eyes and he angrily wiped them away. "I'm sorry."

A sickening feeling attached itself at the pit of Doug's stomach and he swallowed hard. "What-what did you say no to?" he asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what it was. A moan once again passed through Tom's head and he mumbled, "Stuff."

The sickening feeling grew and Doug suddenly felt nauseous. He stared intently at Tom, noticing the lost and pain-filled gaze he held as he stared at the ceiling. "Alright, hey," he started, "I'm gonna lift your shirt and check for bruises, 'kay?"

The smaller man mumbled something and Doug sighed, reaching for the shirt, "Here goes nothing," he thought, pulling at the material. Once Tom realized what was happening, he jerked away violently, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "No!" he yelled angrily; fearfully. "Don't-don't touch me!"

"Tommy," Doug spoke gently, "I told you; I was just checking for bruises. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"No," Tom whispered, confused. "You're not - you're not Doug. It's all a trick. Just a trick," he mumbled.

"No, Tommy, it's not. I'm real, okay? I'm really Doug Penhall."

Tom shook his head violently, "No no no," he mumbled.

"Please Tommy, this isn't a trick, alright? I'm real and I'm so sorry for getting' you into this -" Doug stopped short as a thought crossed his mind and he smiled. "Hey Tommy," he spoke casually, hoping that this would work. "This is another fine mess," he continued, pausing at the end, and hoping Tom would understand and continue.

Tom looked at Doug intently, then let his arms drop to his sides. Managing a weak grin, he finished, "You have gotten me into."