Wet Fire by InSilva
Disclaimer: nope. Still not mine. Still hiding actually.
Summary: Back in "Body and Soul" verse. Rusty has a shocking encounter. Warnings for violence and profanity.
A/N: a few people mentioned this. And, believe me, there is so a reason it's being written now.
OK. Pain. There was going to be pain and a lot of it. There was going to be physical pain and he was going to have to handle it.
It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the worst time. Because he was on his own with this one. He was absolutely certain he was on his own. The tail had been recognisable as the guy from the bar plus friends. And he'd been on his own in the bar; there'd only been him there, only him to be identified. And although they might be interested in…he swallowed and forced the thought through. Though they might have seen and been interested, it was him they'd been sent for. He was the one they were after. And a quick step backwards from the subway train had left doors closing, a face on the other side full of disbelief and sudden fear and then hands had closed around his elbows and he'd been persuaded to accompany those with superior strength.
And now…? Now he was stripped. Of course. And his hands were bound in front of him. Obviously. And he was sitting tied tightly to a chair. Naturally. In a dark room alone. Unsurprisingly. And there was going to be pain. A lot of pain. OK. He was going to have to handle it.
He'd felt the withdrawal from his side at once and he'd spun on his heel and then the doors had closed in front of him, separating them, separating them, and horror flooded him, flooded through him completely, because he could see the reason in the other's eyes, the need to protect and the absolute acceptance that consequences were coming.
Through the windows of the train, he could see others had surrounded him and there wasn't even time for anything, anything! Not for the unspoken, not for the unconditional, not for the undying. He'd dropped back into the carriage and weighed up the options of stopping the train or travelling to the next station. He decided on the latter. Less messy and it wasn't as if they were going to be waiting on the platform for him to return.
Somewhere, somehow, they'd slipped up. Someone had seen something and they'd been found out and right now, right now… He forced the unhelpful away and focused, pressing his hands to either side of his face, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the door, ignoring the crowds around him.
Where would he be taken? Where would he go? It was unlikely that Joey Armitage would take such a personal risk as to administer punishment himself. He thought about known associates, keeping the facts in his head, not thinking about the feelings, not feeling the feelings. And really, there was only one suspect.
Fuck…his head swam with the imagined and it was only the press of people that kept him upright. He swallowed hard and regained control. Disintegration was not going to solve anything.
He'd shot out of the train, swung himself over the ticket barrier, galloped up the steps and out on to the sidewalk with purpose.
Time was a mutable thing. It could be the intense flashpoint high at the top of the con which burned brief and golden. Or it could be like this moment when it stretched out in front of him like a school semester. The chair was hard and it wouldn't move, it was bolted down and his feet were tied flat to the floor and the knots were tight and he was cold now, cold and thirsty and how long had it been anyway? Best guess was an hour. An hour. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes to sit and wait and think and think ahead and that was the point, of course. And patience was never something he'd truly got the hang of.
He gritted his teeth. Time wasn't on his side.
Phone calls were being made. Favours were being called in. Information was being sought. And the clock was ticking.
The room suddenly flooded with light and he blinked furiously and swallowed the adrenaline and then took in his surroundings. He must be sitting faced away from the door. There was peeling paint on the three walls he could see. No windows. There was a fluorescent light strip in the ceiling and as for the rest of the room? However hard he twisted, he couldn't see what was behind him. And there was nothing in front of him. Nothing to the… His eyes shot down to the left and to the side of him and he saw the tyres and he couldn't listen to what his mind was telling him because he got the significance immediately.
And then he heard the door opening and he fought the tension running through him.
"Hello, there."
The tone was warm and friendly and the voice was high-pitched, almost girly, and he felt the nausea rise up in him because this could only be one person.
A round face with bright eyes that blinked a little too quickly hove into view.
"You've been a very naughty boy. Mr Armitage has asked me to chastise you." There was a giggle. "But I'm forgetting my manners. My name's Eddie. Eddie Lavelle."
And the confirmation made Rusty's heart sink.
"Sorry, Danny, I'm not sure where he's based."
"Sorry, Danny, I haven't got a clue where he works out of."
"Sorry, Danny, I don't know where he is."
Sorry, sorry, sorry. All he heard. All they said. All he had. Apologies.
Eddie was grinning as he hosed the water over Rusty. The water came fast and iced and as much as the blasts of water were hateful, he knew what was coming, he knew what was coming and next to that, the water was going to be a holiday. And then the water stopped.
He shook his head, shook the water drops away from his hair and face and looked up at the bright eyes and heard the giggle as Eddie stood up on the tyres.
"Are you cold, you naughty boy? Let's warm you up."
The rod with the electric current was dropped end first onto the floor and his mouth opened up in a silent scream of shock as the hot fire ran up through his feet, up through him, up through his veins, up through every single nerve, jolting its way through his body. He was twisting and turning and thrashing and there was nothing in this world except this. Nothing except this.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the agony stopped and he sat, panting, the pain dissipating out through every pore; he sat, shivering uncontrollably.
Danny…
"Ooh!" Eddie was giggling and Rusty indulged in savage thoughts of pushing that smile through a mincer. "That was fun!"
"Not from where I'm sitting," Rusty managed through clenched teeth and Eddie laughed out loud.
"You are a naughty boy," Eddie scolded playfully. "Oh, I want to see that face of yours once more!"
He pushed the end of the rod in the vicinity of Rusty's chest and Rusty tried to make his chest concave, to avoid the touch. The end hovered an inch away from his skin and Eddie made it play across Rusty's torso and then down, down and he dropped it down to linger over Rusty's right thigh.
"Let's see you dance again," Eddie breathed and closed the circuit.
"Sidestreet by City Hall. Last I heard, he uses an old office building, firm of accountants. Different rooms, different methods."
"Thank you, Simeon, thank you." Danny was falling over himself.
"Danny," and it was said with warning, "you need to be careful. Eddie Lavelle is one sick puppy."
Yeah. Yeah. Thanks for the reminder.
Fire. Everywhere. Everywhere. Fire. No place to think. No room for anything. Fire. He was screaming and he didn't know if it was out loud or not and it just didn't matter either way. Because the convulsions throttled his limbs and there was nothing other. Nothing else. Fire.
The only delay was to stop and pick up a gun and ammo. Then he was off and running all the way to City Hall and the sidestreet behind.
Eddie Lavelle. Specialist for hire with an unrivalled reputation. Not an assassin. Not torture to the point of no return. The people he worked on lived. And mostly, they lived intact. Just a few reminders, maybe. A few scars or possibly they were shy a couple of fingers or maybe they'd never walk again.
Eddie worked in a seller's market. He commanded high fees. But so much easier for bad guys to have a man they could rely on to take care of things who wasn't going to be a permanent fixture on the payroll. Neater. Tidier.
Rusty.
Danny locked down on the fear and the horror and the panic. He needed to use the energy in other ways.
The pain had stopped. He couldn't remember when the pain had started but the pain had stopped. He breathed shallowly and glanced down at his body where the angry red marks told of burns above and below the surface. His teeth chattered and Eddie yawned.
"Sorry," he said immediately. "Didn't get much sleep last night. Some people just don't know when to do the graceful thing and talk."
He checked his watch. "Let's see. Mr Armitage would like you to suffer just a little while longer, naughty boy. Is that alright with you?"
"What if I said n-n-no?" The shake was down to the cold. It was definitely down to the cold.
Eddie giggled again and Rusty thought how in such a short time, how successfully that sound had burned itself into his brain.
"You are-"
"-naughty. Right."
Eddie's face grew serious.
"You making fun of me? You can stop that now, you know. I don't like being mocked."
Rusty stared at him, shaking. There were sensible things to say. But why start now.
"Surely you're used to it?"
Eddie smiled broadly and picked up the hose. "Congratulations. You just bought yourself some overtime."
The building looked deserted but just inside the front door was a neat pile of clothes that were unmistakably Rusty's. Danny looked down at the deep blue shirt and gritted his teeth then moved methodically and started with the ground floor. Room after room he went through and didn't find him. He found other things. Other things that made him more afraid than he ever had been. And when he found a lit room, the light pulsated strangely which just made everything eerier.
There was no point in working upwards. Any conversations Eddie would be having would be held out of sight. He opened the door to the stairs and started down the corridor along the bottom and he heard the screaming.
Screaming. Screaming like he'd never stop. Screaming like he never had before.
Danny passed the cupboard and he thought of the lights on the ground floor that pulsed and flickered and then he skidded to a halt and ran back.
He was weeping. He was weeping like he'd never stop. He was weeping like he never had before.
Danny…
"You want to ask me for mercy?" Eddie asked, eyes bright.
The rod headed down to between Rusty's legs and Rusty waited silently, tears running down his cheeks.
Then the lights went out.
He smashed up the fuse box with the handle of the gun and immediately darkness reigned. The screaming had stopped now. Now he just had to find him. He fished in his pocket for the pencil flashlight. Fingers moved purposefully along the walls of the corridor and closed on a door handle which gave.
"Rusty?"
"Danny…?" The relief and the incredulity were in equal amounts.
The flashlight played around the room and Danny saw him, tied naked to the metal chair, trying to turn his head in spite of the fact there was no give in the ropes and there was water on the floor, water on him and a hose and a long metal rod lying on the floor beside two tyres.
He saw in an instant and then shook himself away from the horror and moved forward.
"I got you, Rus," he assured him and the pain in Rusty's eyes was almost too much to bear. He tucked his gun away and dug out the sharp bladed tool they carried. He tried not to notice that Rusty had no comeback, no banter.
As he sliced through the bonds, he asked gently, "What happened to Eddie?"
"Don't know," Rusty managed, shivering. "Danny…"
"I got you," Danny repeated, pulling the last of the rope free. "Come on, Rus. Let's get out of here."
He supported Rusty's weight and pulled him to his feet and out of the room and along the corridor and back up the stairs, half-hoping they'd run into Eddie so that he could put the gun to good use. But Eddie was nowhere to be seen.
In the light of the afternoon sun playing through the frosted windows, Danny saw the damage done to Rusty's body and he couldn't help the gasp of pain.
"S'OK," Rusty said. "I asked him if I'd be able to play the piano. Course, I couldn't before."
Rus…
It's OK. It's over. And you're here.
Rusty spied his clothes and shakily dressed.
"Let's get out of here."
They hit the pavement and breathed in the normality of everyday life that passed by the house of pain without a clue about what went on inside.
"You need a doctor."
"No."
"Rusty, I mean it."
"No doctors."
They stared at each other and Rusty won.
"Hotel."
"Hotel."
He took pain-killers and he allowed the silent and angry inspection and he held a hand up to Danny's face and he made Danny look him in the eyes and made him see the unspoken, the unconditional, the undying.
He tried not to look too closely at the pattern of burns on Rusty's body. He tried not to think about what Eddie Lavelle had done. He lay in bed and held on to Rusty's hand and he stared at the back of Rusty's shoulder and he tried not to imagine what he would do to Eddie Lavelle if he ever met him. To be honest, he didn't try very hard.
A/N: anyone who doesn't know or doesn't remember, Eddie Lavelle was mentioned in "Justice". Hope he was worth the wait.