Summary: "When we were there, they liked to put Thomas in solitary confinement for long stretches. When he was there, we didn't know if he was dead or alive." Flashback to their time spent in the camp.
The three of them sat in brooding silence as they picked at what passed for food. None of them could bring themselves to entertain any sort of conversation. During the first week after Thomas had been thrown back in solitary, they had all kept up a steady stream of pointless, but comforting discussion about their friend. He's a survivor, he'll make it through. He's been through worse. Any day now and they'll bring him back.
During the following week, the hope began to fade. In the past, the longest they'd ever kept him was eight days. Thomas would inevitably make some smart-ass comment, always with the goal of directing attention away from the others, and the guards would haul him away. Each time, he'd come back to them, a little worse for the wear, but still ready to flash them that signature cocky grin. This time was different. When one of the new prisoners at the camp, a young British marine, had made the mistake of asking for extra water, the guards had been ready to kill him. Thomas, unable to simply stand by as they beat him, intervened. The guards anger rapidly shifted to Thomas and, after a thorough beating, they dragged him off. That had been twelve days ago. Rick was the first to voice his concerns.
"He's been gone too long." He muttered one night. "What if they-"
"Don't. Don't go there, Orville." TC said quietly.
"You have to be thinking it, too." Rick retorted sourly. "And let's face it, he really pissed them off this time."
"He's worth more to them alive." Nuzo pointed out. "They're not just gonna execute an American soldier when they can use him as leverage."
"Unless they decide he's more trouble than he's worth. Look around, Nuz. They ain't exactly short on politically relevant prisoners around here." Rick said, gesturing to the adjoining cells.
"What, so you're just gonna write him off now?" TC shot back. Rick bristled.
"I'm not writing anyone off! All I'm saying is we have to do something…soon."
"And what exactly do you propose we do?" Nuzo asked. No one had an answer for that.
By the third week, even Nuzo and TC's optimism had withered. It had been eighteen days with no word from Magnum. Whispers traveled through the camp. No one had ever lasted that long in solitary. Anyone who went missing for over two weeks was only ever seen again when his corpse was carried out and thrown into the back of a truck. Each night, Nuzo, Rick, and TC kept watch through the tiny cracks in the walls, praying that Thomas' body wouldn't be next.
One night, twenty-two days after Thomas had been taken away, they awoke to the sound of metal clanging against metal. It was a familiar routine; when the guards were preparing to open the cell doors, they'd pound against the bars with pipe. It served as a warning to stand away from the door, or else face that pipe on your knees. Exhausted, they shuffled to the back wall. As Rick rubbed grit from his eyes, he peered through the darkness as the guards approached. His heart caught in his throat. There were four guards. The first led the way down the corridor, gun up and ready, closely followed by the second with the pipe. Behind them, two guards dragged a smaller man between them. Even beneath the bruises and shaggy black hair, he could tell it was Thomas. He wanted to run to him, to pry him from their grasp, but he held fast. Rick knew that a misstep right now could easily get Thomas killed. He could feel TC and Nuzo stiffen on either side of him and he knew that they felt the same.
They stood there silently as the door was unlocked and Thomas was thrown roughly inside. Their relief at seeing him again warred with their growing concern as Thomas remained utterly still, face down on the dirt floor. Without a word, the guards relocked the cell and disappeared down the dimly lit corridor. The moment they were out of sight, the three of them sprung into action, sliding to their knees next to Magnum. Nuzo reached him first.
"Thomas? Hey, you with me?" As gently as he could, he rolled Thomas onto his back.
"Jesus…" Rick breathed. His friend was barely recognizable. Three weeks in solitary had left him ghostly pale and frighteningly thin. The only thing that separated him from a corpse was the faint, rapid heartbeat that fluttered in his chest.
"He's burning up." TC muttered as he smoothed Thomas' hair back. Nuzo frowned.
"Shit, look at his wrists." He carefully examined the weeping abrasions. "They must've kept him restrained the whole time. These are infected."
"Ankles too." Rick noted. "God, did they feed him at all? Or give him water?"
"Thomas?" Nuzo called as loudly as he dared, rubbing his knuckles against Thomas's sternum. "I need you to wake up for me, pal." There wasn't much they could do about the infection, but if nothing else, he knew that they needed to get some fluids into him before he died of dehydration. After a moment, Thomas groaned softly. Rick squeezed his shoulder gently.
"That's it, buddy." Rick coaxed. "Come on back to us." Slowly, a pair of dull, sunken eyes fluttered open.
"Welcome back, TM." TC's grin didn't meet his eyes. Even as he said it, Thomas' lids started to close again.
"No no no no no, you gotta stay with us for a bit. I need you to drink a little, okay?" Nuzo said as he lightly tapped Magnum's cheeks. "Rick, grab that canteen. T, lift his head." With surprising gentleness, TC gathered Thomas to his chest, holding him upright.
"Here." Rick said, passing him the canteen. "There's not much." Indeed, the container was barely half full.
"Better than nothing." Nuzo replied as he screwed off the top. "Alright, Thomas, here we go." As the water trickled past his lips, Thomas choked. Coughing weakly, he rolled his head away. "Easy, Thomas. You gotta swallow, okay?" Nuzo tipped the canteen again, helping him take a slow, small sip. "There we go. Have another." Ten minutes later, the canteen was empty and Thomas had drifted off again.
"That wasn't enough." TC said softly, repositioning Thomas so that he lay more comfortably with his head in TC's lap.
"It'll keep him alive until we get more in the morning." Nuzo said with more confidence than he felt.
"He's not gonna last long without antibiotics." Rick murmured as he pressed a cool hand against Thomas's flushed cheek. Thomas moaned and leaned into the touch. "Shhhhhh, we got you, buddy." Rick soothed.
"Hannah…" Thomas' broken whisper was like a punch to the gut. Since the revelation that it was Hannah who had betrayed them, Thomas had refused to speak her name. "Please…don't leave…" Unable to bear the hurt in his friend's voice, Nuzo leaned close and lightly squeezed his shoulder.
"Thomas? It's okay, man. She's not here. You got me, Rick, and TC and we ain't go nowhere." Nuzo's warm Brooklyn accent seemed to ground him, and for moment, Thomas' eyes fluttered.
"Nuz?" He mumbled lethargically. "'m sorry."
"Sorry? What for?"
"My fault…Hannah…s'my fault."
"Listen to me, Thomas." Rick's voice was thick with emotion. "You've got nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Not a single damn thing."
"We don't blame you. Never have, never will." TC added softly. Thomas was shaking now, a single tear leaking from the corner of his eye.
"They wouldn't let me talk." He blurted. "S-said they'd kill you if I started talking. I think they f-forgot 'bout me after a while." Thomas was rambling now, ending his thought with an odd, somewhat hysterical chuckle. Rick's heart wanted to break. Three weeks of suffering alone and in silence had certainly left their mark.
"Shhhhhhh, it's over now. It's over. Come here." He and Nuzo scooted over next to TC and pulled Thomas close. Cradled safely between the three of them, Thomas's carefully constructed walls began to crumble.
"Thought I was gonna…was gonna d-die in there. I c-can't…can't go…back. I can't go back."
"We won't let that happen." Nuzo promised. "They ain't taking you again."
"Not a chance." TC agreed. "You're stuck with us, pal." Thomas laughed, it was weak, but at least it sounded more like the man they knew. The brief conversation had exhausted him and he was beginning to sag more and more into their arms.
"Just rest, bud. Don't fight it." Rick's voice murmured softly in his ear. For the first time in twenty-two days, Thomas slept, confident that he'd make it to the morning.