Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns The Host
Summary: What if Wanda wasn't given a chance? What if Jeb never felt the need to protect her? And what if she was tortured instead? Will Ian really develop a conscience and fight to protect her or will he be one of the torturers?
Inhumane
Coming here was a mistake. They are going to kill us, Mel.
I'm sorry, Wanda – I really am.
"Take her!"
Hard flesh hit against her cheek, burning filled her skin and her feet wobbled as she fell onto the rocky ground. The uncomfortable floor much softer than the blow she had to suffer. Her vision began to blur and darken. She closed her eyes; maybe they would finally get their wish – if only death was that easy.
But both of them knew that they weren't dying. Something much worse was awaiting their fate. And yet again they wished for painless death – so close and yet so far.
"PLEASE! PLEASE!" The screams of the alien inside the human it had been occupying hit Ian's ears. It was so human that he couldn't help but cringe involuntarily. It was no wonder that Jared had walked out of the room unable to take it anymore. After all, it was his lover's body which had to bear the torture. And it was her voice which had filled Jared's ears – of course he wouldn't be able to take it.
"Don't hurt me, please!" It begged, tears fell down its face – and sobs shook its body.
Nobody in the room moved an inch to its pleading. They had seen too much and lost too much to care. This was war. And they had to be barbaric. To win they had to lose every shred of humanity they owned. And it wasn't like they were actually torturing a human – humanity applied to only humans. And this thing in the girl's body was no human. Its species had taken over the humans without a bit of conscience, so why should they develop any?
Ian's brother, Kyle simply scoffed and kicked it in the stomach. It doubled over and continued to sob. "Nothing but a pathetic worm, aren't you?" Ian heard Kyle growl lowly.
The hatred on Kyle's face was more than justifiable. In fact that's how everyone else including him felt, right? Yes – that's right.
"Ian! Get me that knife!" Kyle ordered, still leaning down and holding the alien by its hair. When Ian walked over hesitantly with the knife to them, he quickly maneuvered over it so that he was still holding its hair but now had it pinned against his chest. Ian almost rolled his eyes; Kyle could be such an idiot at times. The alien was so hurt that it could hardly move. And with the strength it was being held – it was quite unnecessary.
Ian studied it closely now – the girl it had been occupying was beyond destroyed. He could barely see any skin which wasn't bloody. And the bruises were already deep and coloring.
"CUT IT!" He was snapped back to reality by Kyle's order.
"S-shouldn't we wait for Doc now?" Ian found himself asking, the knife in his hand trembling. Both his brother and the alien suddenly looked up, his eyes settled on the alien's. Its eyes began to water again, and sh-it sent him an unspoken plea.
"I think we should stop," he said more confidently.
"Are you serious?!" He heard Brandt from behind him. "If you are so unwilling, Ian – let me do it!"
"I think we have done enough!" Ian said loudly, his eyes flitting up to Kyle's. "Enough, brother. We have done too much," he said the last sentence softly.
"Too much? Going soft are we, Ian?" Kyle growled. Ian didn't fail to notice that Kyle's fingers had tightened around its body and it left out a choked cry.
He tried to talk in a much rational manner, knowing that he being defensive would only hit Kyle's stubbornness. "Kyle, we need it. And if we continue to go at this rate, it will be dead within moments. Look at how much blood it has lost already! Let's – let's slow it down a little. I'm sure Doc and Jeb will agree. Don't be hasty brother. It has to open its mouth some day. It's slow torture that usually works. We know that." The words felt rancid in his mouth – he was a torturer and he had enough experience to know what worked the bed – but they were true.
Kyle simply stared at Ian, as if contemplating the words. Ian could see that it was almost working. Almost. "No! We have to get out the information now! We are too close to stop!"
"Are you going to do it or should I?"
"Kyle . . ." Ian tried to reason with his elder brother.
"I think Ian is right, we should stop now. I am pretty sure Doc and Jeb wouldn't be happy with how much we have done. Stop now, Kyle." Andy's cool voice filled the chamber. The whole room went silent except for the ragged breathing of the tortured alien.
Kyle arms around it loosened, and spitting on the floor, he jerked himself away from it in disgust. "Fine!" He snapped and walked away.
The alien lay on the floor just as it had been left – unmoving. Ian bent and placed two fingers on its neck, his heart anxious a little. The feeling crept away as soon as he noticed a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
"Should we wait for Doc to look after it?" Ian wondered out loud. He heard the scoffing and, "Are you serious?!" from behind him.
"I guess not," he mumbled to himself, and shrugged his shoulders unhappily. He could see his side's point too – you didn't torture and then heal anyone. That was too cruel.
He gingerly put his arm – one around h-its shoulders and another under its feet. "I'll carry it back and guard it." He announced. He got a few raised eye-brows but nobody argued.
The walk back to the deepest hole in which the alien was being held as a prisoner wasn't very long. And the human it was occupying hardly weighed anything. Ian just felt a little weird knowing that all the stares of the general public were on him. When he had almost reached his destination, he was stopped by Jeb. He looked at Ian with the question obvious in his eyes.
"We haven't got any answer yet. But we are hoping to get one soon." He said.
Jeb simply nodded and his eyes flitted back to the prisoner in Ian's arms. He watched it unhappily and then said, "I'll get you some water and clothing to clean it up." And then he walked away.
Nodding, Ian continued to head down the caves. It was a little difficult towards the end since it had gotten the darkest, but he was the most familiar with region (having spent most of his time loading the supplies or simply spending his free time when wanting to be alone.) With careful footsteps, Ian reached the end and placed it on the floor. It let out a low moan, but didn't open its eyes or do anything attention grabbing.
Ian sat a few yards away from him, looking around. There weren't many supplies left in storage, which was a good thing. But he didn't have much lighting around here. Once the night set it, the dim light would be soon gone. He hoped that Jeb would bring in a lamp or something.
After few minutes, he heard footsteps coming from the opposite end. He didn't have to look up to know that it was Jeb. "There you go," his gruff voice said.
"Thank you," Ian mumbled. Jeb had got him a lamp, pail of water along with a cloth and couple of water bottles.
"I'll get you some food when it's dinner time," Jeb mumbled, and walked away on Ian's nod.
Ian waited until Jeb's footsteps were heard no more, and then with a deep sigh he got up and moved closer to the broken body. His hands trembled as he dipped the clean cloth in water and rinsed it. He placed his left arm on its shoulder in an attempt to lift it into a sitting position. It whimpered at his touch and he heard a weak, "Please . . ."
It opened its eyes, and tears rolled down them again. The silvery soul in the girl's body was quite prominent at such close proximity. Ian waited for the roll of nausea and hatred to hit him – but it never came. He felt something entirely different – something that he shouldn't have felt – something that could be dangerous to him and the rest of mankind – something which he should have immediately shied away from. He felt guilt and pity and slight pain.
The alien pleaded again, Ian felt like a monster. But he knew that he wasn't one despite all the torturing he did. "Shush, I won't hurt you," he whispered, noticing that his voice trembled on every word.
He reached out to touch its body, wipe away the blood and see the extent of its injuries. It cringed at Ian's advances. "I won't hurt you," he repeated.
"Trust me," he added softly. His eyes widened and he almost gasped out loud at what he had said.
I shouldn't ask it to trust me. All I can promise is torture and pain. And then finally death, he thought. But he couldn't help but feel that his words could never have been perfect. Because the alien didn't cringe away; it watched Ian with certain wariness. Apparently, trust was the magic word. If only –
AN: My first The Host fiction, and what do I decide to write? Nothing fluffy, nothing cute – but filled with angst and hurt! *sigh*
I hope you liked it guys, because I certainly loved writing this. Ian/Wanda is my OTP when it comes to 'The Host,' and I love them.
This story, it's going to be a two-shot or maximum have three chapters. The idea just hit me, and I wanted to share it with you.
Please do let me know what you thought of it, thanks!