Right, this is the first story I wrote but thought I would put up Bomb Squad first as it's a one shot. This will be a multi chapter and it's already finished so I will regularly update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about it, chapters to come will be violent and contain torture... just to let you all know!
"I've got nothing left to live for,
No reason yet to die,
But when I'm standing at to gallows,
I'll be staring at the sky."
- Hurts, Someone to Die for
Friday. Arguably the best day of the week. But he didn't care if they argued, right now Peter Burke knows, it's the best. Start of his long weekend, on the other side of that door. He can already smell the warm and inviting roast his wife promised she'd make. Getting out the car was the easiest thing to do. Of course he had brought case files, just in case he needed them – or El needed him to need them.
The night was cold, rain stinging his face, his back with only a thin shirt as his coat was protecting the box he carried. He was water proof after all. Thunder was rumbling in the distance, but too close for comfort. He shivered.
As the box slides to the left, coat exposing the corner, he curses, fumbling with his many keys. Preoccupied, the dark shadow falling over him goes unnoticed, until he feels – rather than sees – the arm wrapping around his throat. The box hits the pooled step, corner hitting the concrete first, files bursting out, littering down the path.
He struggled, albeit unsuccessfully. Before long they had his keys in the door – making a better job of it than he had – doing so with as little as a punch to his face. Then they were in. He was disorientated, the piercing scream of his wife violently pulling him back to reality. That, and the hard shove head first down to the floor. Finding his bearings, trying to sit, his head was spinning.
What little progress he had made was knocked out of him, with something slamming into him. Something... someone? Someone, definitely. His brain finally put it together, El.
"Peter, are you ok? Look at me..."
He heard the desperation in her voice, so he raised his heavy head. All awareness flooded him the moment he saw the large bruise already forming on her cheek. Now he wanted blood.
He grabbed her arm, putting himself between her and who ever was in their house. Why they were there, he had no idea, but he was going to find out...
"What the hell do you want?" Not the most subtle way to get them to reveal all, but it could work.
"Not us Agent Burke, not us. We are merely tools for someone else's excellence."
Ok, that didn't help. That didn't help at all.
They were bringing over a dining room chair, and some duct tape. Before he could stop them, he was on his feet, being dragged away from his wife, arms taped behind him, tape covering his mouth.
First came the blow to the face. It stung, and almost knocked him sideways. Next was the blow to the stomach, stealing his air, limited breathing to just his nose. The pain was so sudden and unexpected he almost blacked out. But he heard El shout, and that was enough to pull him back.
He heard them talking, hushed and frantic. They kept glancing back between the two home owners. They looked worried, as if they suddenly grasped what they were doing.
Peter looked over at his wife, eyes wet and red, the left one tinged blue, swelling slightly. That pissed him off. She caught his eye, and he tried to give a reassuring but fierce look. Whither that's what she saw or not, she understood his message - "stay strong, we'll be fine".
