Disclaimer:All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them stems from my fond admiration (and a few personal quirks I will seek "help" for).
AN: This story is not set within the accepted "canon" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. So I get to "fool around" with them in ways in which they've never been seen, stretching that to the limit and suspending the "reality" that is "fiction" to start with…now there's a contradiction in terms!!!
(And yeah Goren I know the proper word for that is oxymoron…now get out of that bath before you start to look like a prune)
Bobby is being held prisoner and tortured. (This contains some slightly grown up images. If you don't think you will like what your mind will make of them…stop reading now)
VICTIMISED
When Bobby Goren came to he felt strange. Those final moments of semi consciousness when you become aware of your body and how it's feeling. In his case he didn't really need to open his eyes to know nothing had changed. His wrists were still handcuffed to the top rail of the bed head, his ankles tied with ropes to the one at the bottom and all parts between as naked as a jaybird.
He had no idea where that phrase came from and finding out wouldn't be high on his list of priorities when and if he got out of this situation. His body ached all over from a mixture of what his captor had put him through and his own struggles against the restraints. Bobby's wrist and ankles were almost raw from that and other parts of him sore as well.
He glanced over to the side to see some of the vile and alien things he'd been tormented with and shuddered. Both at the sight of them and the memory. Even his body reacted to seeing them again, as his stomach heaved and he gagged a little, recalling the final incident before he must have passed out. His mouth forced open, something shoved in and down his throat before he hardly knew what was happening.
Certain he was going to be choked to death or inhale his own vomit before there was a strange taste and then blackness. A taste was still left in the recesses of his mouth, as Bobby summoned what saliva he had and spat. Trying to rid his teeth and gums of what had remained lurking.
"Naughty" said a soft voice almost seductively, making his whole body twitch and sending fire through Bobby's chafed wrists and ankles again.
He'd not heard the door opening as the white-coated figure regarded him like a specimen and moved to the table on the side. It crossed his mind briefly to beg for his freedom, except that had done him no good until now and neither had agreeing to co-operate. Each nasty thing he'd agreed to, each outrage suffered in silence hadn't bought him the release promised and Bobby had no reason to think any deal they made would be kept to.
"How are you feeling Bobby?" asked his captor as they went about doing something he couldn't see on the table. Perhaps just as well not to know in advance what was going to be done to him next.
"What do you think?" he muttered looking away as his tormentor reached for a package had "salt" written on it and one of several substances which had been used to supposedly "make things better" for him before. It was one of those ironic phrases his torturer had used several times. Before expressing mock and twisted surprise when it had exactly the reverse effect on him.
Bobby got no reply as his jailer turned from the table brandishing a short stick maybe eight inches long and an inch in diameter. It shone wetly. His mouth went dry and he couldn't swallow.
"Keep still" he was ordered as his navel was filled with salt and he stifled a moan of horrible anticipation of how that might get used.
Goose pimples seemed to break out all over his body, as the stick was laid cold and damp against his right ankle. Then slowly trailed up his leg.
"You know you want this" said the silky voice
"No I don't" Bobby muttered as it felt like ants were crawling between the hair on his shins.
"Yes you do" insisted the voice as the stick was raised high, came sweeping down in an arc and cracked hard against his knee. "It's good for you"
Bobby writhed and almost bit his lip not to scream and give this sadist more satisfaction as the stick slid almost sensuously round to the inside of his thigh. Still wet as it travelled up and him willing himself not to respond in any way as it reached his groin. He closed his eyes and almost sighed with relief as the only place the stick was suddenly poked was in his naval.
The mistake was opening them as his captor gave a quiet grunt and sprayed something thick and sticky over his abdomen.
"You'll enjoy this Bobby" promised the voice as the stick was trailed through the goo.
"Will I?" he gritted his teeth.
"It's mayonnaise" said Eames shoving the stalk of celery under his nose "Though why we have to go through this every time to get you eat your vegetables Bobby, I shall never know"
AN : You were warned!!!