As always - Not making any filthy lucre with this. Don't own Tintin & Company - Moulinsart does.

The usual standard grammatical apology, any mistakes are due to fumble fingers, sheer blindness and complete disregard for the English language.

This was not the story I was originally going to upload next. But the muse hit me upside the head and said: write this first – NOW. And I said – ok, will do. Besides, it hurt and I didn't want the muse to start walloping me anymore.

Warning – RAPE, death, angst city. Big time. That's right. Not sure where this came from – time of the month or something…

But don't worry; I never descend so far that I can't get back up & out.

I'm a visual person and this story popped into my head when I had an image of Tintin stumbling along a dark corridor, covered in blood. Why Tintin was stumbling along covered in blood is something you'll just have to find out…

…

Tintin stumbled along the dark corridor back to where Captain Haddock was waiting anxiously for him to return. He could just make out the form of his friend, hands clenched on the bars.

Reaching the man's cell, he tried to fit the key into the lock with shaking hands. Hearing the gasp from the older man on the other side of the bars, he glanced up.

"Lad…? Are you hurt…?" the Captain gestured toward him.

Tintin brushed his hand against his sweater and regarded the stain on his palm. "It's okay." He replied curtly. Finally jamming the key into the lock, he twisted it viciously and unlocked the cell door.

Haddock was outside in a moment, his arms reaching around Tintin's shoulders, offering both comfort and support, as the younger man was swaying unsteadily.

"Lad, the blood…"

"Not now, please. Archie, let's just go. Please, I need to get out of here." He pleaded.

For a moment he thought the older man would argue, but then started to turn back the way Tintin had came. "Yes, yes, my boy. Let's get you out of here."

"No, not that way."

Seeing Haddock's look of confusion, Tintin stammered out a reply. "I…heard voices; I don't want to run into anyone, any of the guards…those guards…"

"All right, but what if that's the only way out?"

"Then…I guess we'll have to deal with it, but please, let's look the other way, okay?"

Tintin bit his lip, hoping the man would agree. He was so close to losing what little control he had left. He mustn't lose control. He just mustn't. Closing his eyes as the Captain nodded, he swayed a little from relief.

Turning once more, they began making their halting way down the stone hallway, passing empty cell after cell. Tintin used the bars as support as he stumbled along, feeling his friend's arm around his waist, holding him up.

Slowly they moved through twisting, turning corridors, lit only by an occasional high window, a window that showed only moon lit sky.

At first they thought they had hit another one of the interminable dead ends, but Tintin's sharper eyes noticed the shape of a door etched into the surface. Holding his breath and praying, he tried key after key on the ring he had taken from the guard's chamber.

The second to the last key fit in, and after working it back and forth it eventually turned reluctantly. Tintin leaned against the wall as the larger man put his weight behind the door and shoved it open. An even darker corridor showed, but they both breathed in the cool, fresh air that streamed from it.

Once more they stumbled on, hearing their shoes splash through water or mud or worse, tripping over or breaking through roots that had found their way into the subterranean tunnel. More than once they had to squeeze through tight spots where the walls and/or ceiling had crumbled.

It was with great relief that they burst out into clean night air, the sensation of space around them refreshing. They stood blinking, waiting for their eyes to adapt to even this meager light.

Woods surrounded them, the landscape dropping away. Looking back they could make out the high stone walls of the prison. It was quiet, no sound emerging to alert them that their escape had been discovered. Both of them heaved shared sighs of relief.

Once more the Captain wrapped his arm around Tintin's waist and they began to move throughout the forest, seeking only to get away.

Tintin was stumbling more and more, both from exhaustion but also because of the pain that wracked his body. He struggled to maintain control, he must maintain control, but it was just too much.

He didn't feel a thing as he sagged to the ground, nor felt the older man pick him up carefully and carry him away. Nor did he hear a little later the sound of a dog barking joyously.

…