Steve gritted his teeth as the electrical current surged through him. His body moved of its own accord, muscles tensing and jerking while the dark haired assailant jabbed him sharply in the ribs with a cattle prod.
He heard Maggie scream. She was begging them to stop. Her voice sounded raw and he could hear the emotion in it; the fear. His muscles were weak from the stimulation and he notes how much focus it takes to just keep his feet under him, to stop his legs from giving way, his wrists and shoulders taking his full weight. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the chain and lifts his head, defiance in his eyes. If they could dish it out, he could take it.
He heard her sniff, and his eyes lock on hers for just a moment. He tries to tell her he's been through worse. Don't give them what they want. They want you scared and pliant. The younger of the two glanced from between the two of them, and smiled.
"Save your voice bitch. You'll be screaming soon enough." To punctuate his words he pressed the prod back into Steve's bare flesh. Holding it till his legs finally buckled and he was dangling there, appearing to already be broken.
"Let us move on to something a bit more old fashioned, shall we?" the older voice said. "Come now, Lieutenant, you can't be giving up already. On your feet." He lifted Steve's chin with the butt end of a long leather handle.
He didn't stand because they told him to. He stood because the longer he was tied here, the longer they beat him, hurt him, the less time they could do it to Maggie. The longer she was safe. He pulled himself up as straight as he could, his legs threatening to give up the ghost and leave him again.
"Good show. Now, for a small history lesson. This is a Sjambok. Traditionally made from hide and braided like any other whip. But you can find them in synthetics now, far easier to clean than leather. You can soak it bleach and suddenly the worries about those nasty little bugs the human body can carry are all but gone. I've made a few modifications to mine. Generally the shaft is smooth, because you don't want to break the skin, just the bones underneath, but I find that when you rough the shaft up just enough, if grabs the flesh rips it in such a wonderful way."
The older man smiled at him. You could see the crazy in the way his eyes light up, but you could see the hard won control there too. He watched as his fingers brushed along his skin, tracing the burn marks left on him from the prod. He ignored the fingers on his torso and looked instead at Maggie. Red welts were clearly visible on her skin from where she had been pulling on her bindings.
He knew the blow was coming even though he couldn't see it. There was a slight whistle as it tore through the air. It didn't crack like a whip, but hit his skin with a solid thwack. He felt the air rush from his lungs, and he tried force his lungs to keep working, not from pain but from the place of the blow. Each blow was placed right on the heels of the one before, with the intent to keep him from getting a good breath of air into his lungs. He knew how long he could go like this before he collapsed. Two minutes was his top time. And in this case it would take longer. He was every so often getting a breath of air. Not a good lung full, but enough to stave of the blackness that threatened in the corners of his vision.
He could hear Maggie again. This time she wasn't crying, but sounding almost like she was bargaining. "You want us to last the week right, then he needs a break…" Her voice faded out as his body gave way. He tried in vain to stop his knees from sagging as his weight came to rest for the second time that day on his bound wrists. His thoughts were angry. He was trained to withstand torture, to take what was being done to him, and never once give up anything. He felt the darkness closing in as his vision narrowed, his body was betraying him. Giving up when he still needed to fight.
—
He came to a few hours later, Maggie still tied to the chair in front of him, and she was talking. He had noticed over the times they had worked together, she muttered, generally to herself when she was nervous.
"Hey." His throat was dry, and he felt like he was getting over the flu. Every joint hurt, and his legs and arms felt like jello.
"Thank god. Steve, you scared me. You've been out for hours."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. It's not your fault." She tried her best to laugh, but it sounded sad instead.
"Did they hurt you? While I was out?"
"No." She shook her head, her red curls falling over her shoulders where they had come free of the tie.
"Good." He let his head fall back as he tried to stretch out some of his stiffening muscles. He could feel the itch of dried blood on his back, and knew that if his skin wasn't already cold and numb, his back would be on fire.
"Steve?" Maggie's voice was filled with worry.
"Hmm?" he mumbled as he lifted his head back up so she could see his face.
"What do you think they want?"
"I wish I knew. But I want you to remember something for me. No matter what happens we're going to be okay. You know Chin, Danny and Kono. They are going to find us. And.." His voice trailed off as the metal door to the room scraped along its rusted track.
"Strong words, Lieutenant," the older man said, his voice dripping malice. "I understand your need to help Ms. Doyle feel at ease, but I think you overestimate your team."
"And you underestimate them," Steve growled.
"No. I even brought in help for your team, the BAU is here and even with that, they still won't find us. Or you. You know the one thing you can count on, Lieutenant, is that you will break. But not before she does. And you will watch it happen, even if it's the last thing you do." He smiled and the instability that Steve had seen held in check by the iron control resurfaced for a moment, before sinking back into the depths. He watched as he pulled on his shirt, straightening it out before flipping on the camera. "It's time we sent another little note to your friends. If you would be so kind as to say hello…"
Steve watched as the younger attacker circled behind Maggie a bottle of something clear in his hands. "We don't want you getting any infections do we, Lieutenant?" The younger mans voice was sarcastic. Steve had a feeling he knew what they were going to do. It was two fold, rubbing alcohol would indeed clean the wounds and hurt like a bitch, but it would also make him colder. Weaken the tight muscles more and that much easier to control.
"Nice of you to care," Steve said through gritted teeth as the liquid ran between his skin and the metal of the chair. It ran over the open spots and made them burn. He growled as his hands balled up, refusing to give them the satisfaction of him crying out. Still hurt though, enough that his body tensed, putting strain on things that still ached from before. He could feel as his body fought to stay conscious and it seemed to be a losing battle.
"String the girl up." the older man said with a slight smile.
"Don't… hurt her," Steve ground out, his jaw still clenched.
"Oh, but it's only fair she get some special attention to," the younger man said with a laugh. He walked around her, his fingers running up her shoulder, along the back of her neck and down the other arm, making a happy noise as she whimpered. "I'm sure she'll be fine. You're a strong little thing aren't you? You can make the Lieutenant proud, can't you, and not scream?"
