A Rocky Road

a Spooks story

by RoadrunnerGER

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Spooks, the BBC and Kudos do.

Summary: They say that no matter how bad something is, it can always get worse. Long years of Russian incarceration taught Lucas as much. The latest abuse he has to endure, though, has him teetering on the brink of an abyss.

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your continued support, the favourites and alerts. Welcome, .1, and thanks for your comment. Special thanks to my beta reader mandassina. Enjoy!

Chapter 10 - Vegetative state

Surprised, Lucas looked up when the door to his cell opened not long after Darshavin had taken him back there. Something was thrown in and the cell locked again. Curiously, Lucas stared into the dark.

A trick? No, don't think so.

Slowly, he got up and padded over to the door. His feet found the bundle first and he bent to pick up what turned out to be clothes. Happily, he pulled the sweater over his head and felt something fall. Pushing first one arm into the sleeve, then the other, he bent down in search for what he lost.

Socks!

He took them to the cot and sat down to slip them on. Leaning with his back against the wall, he pulled up his legs in a tailor seat. Taking a deep breath, he released the air slowly.

What's Oleg up to?

Anxiety knotted up his insides. There had to be a snag in it. They did not suddenly provide him with clothes out of the goodness of their hearts.

Slowly, he started to warm up a little.

Give me a blanket and I might actually feel comfortable, Lucas inwardly chuckled. That would be too much to ask for, right?

Despite his new clothes, he shivered and he imploringly hoped that he did not get sick.

xXx

Coughing, Lucas lay on the cot, trying to draw as much warmth out of the two blankets Darshavin had given to him as possible. Neither hoping nor praying had prevented him from catching a cold and he feared that it would not get better with as little care as he received.

The lights switched on. Since they noticed that he was sick, they stuck with a routine again. In a few minutes, a guard would come with light food and tea.

Lucas did not feel like eating, though. It was rather likely that it returned faster than he could swallow it in the first place. Drinking was more important anyway and he appreciated the hot tea.

When the door opened it was Darshavin himself who brought in the tray. He put it onto the chair and sat down on the edge of the cot. His features darkened when he felt Lucas's forehead.

Despite the seriousness of his situation, his interrogator's concern amused Lucas.

Guess you're more worried about yourself, right? Wouldn't it be a pity if you ruined Arkady's work by letting me die? Well, what are you gonna do now? You'll have to do more than just add tea and blankets to keep me healthy.

Right now, he felt quite sorry for himself. As much as I liked the time outside, even if it was digging a grave, I don't like how it backfired.

Would you even care if I wasn't Arkady's pet project?

Once more, a series of coughs shook his body. As he calmed down, he felt a hand on his forehead again, the thumb moving soothingly along his hairline.

Don't! he inwardly spat and had to cough again.

Too exhausted to care, Lucas allowed Darshavin to help him drink some tea. It soothed his dry throat and he eagerly gulped down the rest. He dimly was aware that Darshavin yelled at a guard.

If I get pneumonia and die I'm going to come back and haunt you to death, Lucas thought miserably as he sank back down. Darshavin shifted closer and he did not mind because his presence offered extra warmth. Confused, he noticed how his captor rubbed calming circles on his back.

A guard came in with more tea, a thin mattress and more blankets. Darshavin urged Lucas to get up and steadied him on the chair while he prepared the cot. Then he guided Lucas back down under the covers.

Soon Lucas became comfortably warm, the tea helped against the coughing, and he did not care anymore about the weirdness of Darshavin mothering him. A moment later, he was fast asleep.

xXx

As soon as Lucas had recovered the blankets and mattress were taken from him. Once more, he had to live in darkness. Working out and playing imaginary chess were the only activities he had to entertain himself. Angel Harry and devil Harry were his sole company.

Isn't that a sign that I'm finally going mad as a hatter?

'Don't worry too much,' devil Harry said. 'It wasn't such a long trip.'

'What are you talking about?' angel Harry frayed. 'He's no more insane than you are! He may have paranoia, but that comes with the job!'

'Not what I'm talking about,' devil Harry hissed, smoke puffing and sparks spraying as he thumped his fork on the floor. 'He should've known what would happen before he came to Russia!'

"How should I have known?" Lucas groaned.

'You're a spook!' devil Harry pointed out with mock indignation. 'What do you think happens to spooks when they're caught spying?'

"I shouldn't have been caught at all," Lucas hissed back. "My cover was safe. No idea how it blew. There was no indication that the operation was in danger either or Harry would've burnt it."

'Traitor,' devil Harry taunted. 'Someone's betrayed you to the Russians, said, here you've got him, do whatever you fancy.'

It stung.

Once more, Lucas lay on the floor, watching the slit of light at the bottom of the door. He noticed movement a moment before he heard the flap being opened. Something was pushed through but he did not bother to move at once.

It doesn't smell like food.

'Does it surprise you?' devil Harry teased. 'You haven't got food for days now.'

It's not been days.

'Well, feels like weeks, actually.'

What do you care? You don't need food.

'But you do and believe it or not, I do care about you.'

Thanks. At least someone does.

'I do, too!' angel Harry complained. 'Are you going to check what they brought you?'

Finally, Lucas moved to where the thing must be. Sliding his hand over the concrete, he searched for whatever it was. When his fingers touched it, he started.

Oh, no… he inwardly groaned as he felt the item and realized that it was a book. Very funny.

'It doesn't happen to be in Braille?' devil Harry teased, making Lucas wish he could slap him.

xXx

How long now?

Lucas had absolutely no idea how much time he had spent in darkness now. As he was not fed regularly, he could not measure the time by counting the meals. Darshavin did not come to interrogate him once and he did not get any other visitor either. Lately, he thought of Elizavieta more often, which was a welcome distraction from his strange conversations with angel Harry and devil Harry. And he had found another way to entertain himself.

He read.

At first, Lucas had thought that the book they gave him was utterly useless, but he figured out how he could use what little light fell in through the gap under the door to read it. Of course, it was neither easy nor comfortable, but it made the time pass. It did not matter that he knew the book already. Lucas just was glad that he had something to keep his mind busy.

Doctor Thorne was the novel Darshavin had mentioned when he had tried to imitate Kachimov's technique and advised Lucas to read it occasionally, teasingly offering to lend him his copy.

Which he did.

Lucas had seen Darshavin's name scrawled on the inside of the back cover.

Owning a book like this doesn't turn you into a cultivated man, Lucas thought as he turned the page. You might be well-read and educated, but you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. A smirk cracked his features. I wonder if you know that idiom.

Lying on the floor with his back to the door was not the best position. Lucas had to listen carefully when someone was outside in order to avoid getting the metal door shoved into his back.

Everything was silent, so Lucas relaxed for a moment, stretching out and resting his head on his upper arm. He was tired, but his grumbling stomach kept him awake.

'Do you think Kachimov would kill Oleg if he starves you to death?' angel Harry wondered.

'Are you talking to me or Lucas?' devil Harry asked.

'Both of you,' the little angel snickered, bopping up and down on his cloud. Blowing a mock kiss at the devil he prodded, 'What do you think?'

'That I won't have to wait long for the pathetic bootlicker if he loses Lucas rather than breaking him,' devil Harry declared

'That's what I thought,' angel Harry agreed with hardly angelic glee, rubbing his hands together.

Lucas smirked at their antics, but just for a moment. Grave concern gnawed at him when he thought about how damaged he might be if he was creating little invisible friends.

Though it can't be too bad as long as I'm worrying about it, right?

'No, definitely not,' devil Harry said, patting his shoulder. 'We're just a distr-."

"Shut up!" Lucas hissed

'Right, don't listen to…'

"You, too!" Lucas snapped at angel Harry. "Shut the hell up!"

Both Harrys looked at each other with concern before they vanished, devil Harry with a little puff and angel Harry with a musical chord from his harp.

Lucas sighed.

Now what am I going to do?

Even after years of incarceration his yearning to get out of these walls was stronger than ever before. It hurt him almost physically and if he had had a spoon he might have tried to dig himself out.

God, that's hard enough with a real shovel. I need a distraction. Just what?

One possibility could be playing another game of imaginary chess. Ever since his subconscious placed Major Georgieva onto the grid, though, he found it hard to concentrate on chess.

I could get back to Doctor Thorne, Lucas thought and shifted his position in order to search for the line where he had left off. The letters were a bit hard to decipher which put him off reading. He was tired of it. Aside from that, hunger gnawed at his insides as well as his psyche.

Snapping the book shut, he pushed himself up and went over to the cot where he dropped the book. Putting his hands against the tiled wall, he began to do press-ups. As he did the second one, he considered changing his position. Turning, he knelt down to continue his workout on the floor. He hoped that it would help him focus…

…on not feeling hungry.

Not that it helps, he thought as he pushed himself up for the third time. C'mon! One more!

One at a time.

And another.

And another.

Counting twelve filled Lucas with fresh determination and he dove into the next press-up, ignoring the way his muscles started to burn. He began to sweat despite the cold and his breathing became heavier.

Fifteen!

All his resolve could not hide the fact that he was weakened by food deprivation. Only his anger about being confined to this cell, in darkness, with no human contact for days up to weeks on end, kept him going.

Eighteen!

Nineteen!

Twenty!

Panting, he paused.

C'mon, Lucas North, he cheered for himself. You can make two dozen!

Lucas was fighting, he really was. Twenty two press-ups and he felt his arms quiver. Misery and shame burnt in his heart. Once more, he lowered himself down and was upset by how hard it became to hold his weight above ground.

He was not willing to give up.

He knew he could make it.

He had to.

Gritting his teeth, Lucas pushed with all his might and managed to press up a twenty-third time before he had to admit defeat and collapsed to the ground. Tears of frustration burnt in his eyes about being reduced to this helpless mess. He simply lacked the strength that he would have if he had eaten.

Rolling onto his back, he groaned with suppressed distress. His fists thumped the floor and he was breathing hard. Lucas did not want to yield to his despair but felt that he was losing the fight. He was so desperately alone. Neither memories of his wife nor his silly self-conversations could fill the emptiness. A book was no replacement for conversation, working out no substitute for purpose.

Soundlessly his lips formed a shuddering plea, Oleg, where are you?

No response.

Nobody commented on his display of weakness.

A scream tore off his lips.

It died away unheard.

tbc…