Day Fourteen: Beaten. With extra thanks to Gumnut-Logic for all the help with this chapter.
John stared.
'Yes, Dad. It was him.'
Jeff swore.
'Dad?' John sounded worried. 'Dad? What's going on?'
Jeff closed down the link and stared at the picture in his hands. That picture had been the beginning of the end of Scott's military career. It had been a shock to receive it, one of a bundle of pictures his eldest had sent him in one of his monthly update packages.
It was the older man in the picture that had set Jeff's heart racing, and his hand moving to call Scott and check his boy was alright, really alright. For he knew that man, and that man meant nothing but trouble.
Trouble for him. Trouble for Scott.
He sat at his desk and thought back to a time he'd purposely boxed away. A time before International Rescue, before children, before marriage, a time before NASA.
To when he had just finished his USAF training.
After blasting through his bachelor's degree with ROTC he began his USAF life as a Second Lieutenant. A hard worker with a natural flair for leadership and thinking outside the box, it wasn't long before Jeff was moving up the ranks, his superiors exercising their right to promote outstanding performance early.
Three years in, 21 years of age, and Jeff was called in to a special meeting. A special, secret meeting. Before he'd even spoken to anyone he'd had to sign to say he'd not talk about this meeting to anyone. Ever.
Interest piqued, he'd been thrilled to be told he and a select few others had been chosen to help test a new drug designed to help soldiers recover quickly from stress and injury. While Jeff was no medic, his mom had taught him quite a bit, so he checked over everything as best he could. Not seeing anything that stood out as a red flag, he signed up. The serum would be delivered weekly over the course of six months, with monthly testing.
It wasn't until the third month that he began to notice the irregularities.
They had started with a large group of sixty, divided into three groups. It was a proper scientific experiment, a control group and two groups, one on the drug and one on a placebo. Jeff had no idea which group his was in.
But as time passed there were issues with some of the men in his group. While none were in his squadron, rumours began to flow about airmen gone wild. Reports of them beating up fellow soldiers and even attacking superiors. Of course, such 'gossip' was dismissed as false and nothing was said.
Discussions were held with the group's assigned scientists and they were reassured. But still the rumours persisted, and every week more people missed the appointment.
Jeff became even more suspicious.
Five months in and an alarming number of men missing from the monthly test, Jeff decided enough was enough. He collated as much information as possible and made an appointment to speak to the base Commander.
The dossier he had collected included the rumours he had heard from various groups, along with any evidence he could find. The Commander was a fair man, and he listened as Jeff presented his concerns. They had noted an increase of 'incidences' on the base and had launched their own investigation.
Jeff never received the final dose of whatever the drug was. He was also one of a very few airmen that had suffered no side effects. The scientist who was conducting the experiments was never seen on the base again.
Life moved Jeff into different arenas. NASA then marriage then children, and Jeff never gave any consideration to the five months he was a test subject for an experimental drug. He'd never had any adverse effects at all, and he had decided long ago that he had been one of the placebo group. And then he forgot all about it.
Until he saw the picture.
Alarm bells ringing, Jeff put his Major-General hat on and got busy with his contacts. He couldn't remember the name of the scientist after so many years, in fact he wasn't sure he had known it at all, but the man in the picture with his hand on Scott's shoulder was definitely the same man.
If he had been experimenting on his son…
Worst of all, Jeff couldn't get in touch with Scott. The man was involved in a mission and was unavailable, and nothing would change that.
It took six days. Six days of meetings and countless hours of calls, before Jeff came anywhere close to finding out what was going on over at the airbase in Germany. And it did nothing to allay his fears.
No one could – no one would – tell him what was going on. It was something so top secret that he just couldn't find someone willing to even discuss what was going on. Jeff ground his teeth in frustration. He needed to save Scott.
He didn't realise just how true that was going to be.
Three days later Scott's mission was ambushed and he was declared MIA. For a little over a month they had no information about him or his co-pilot at all. While the USAF did everything they could to find and secure Scott, Jeff set about uncovering what was going on. He may not have had much success so far, but he just knew there was no coincidence in the timing of Scott's capture.
Jeff just needed to find evidence, and being the head of the one of the biggest aeronautical companies in the world with huge military contracts gave him the leverage he needed. He wasn't above using it if it meant saving his son.
It still took five weeks to collect all the information he needed. And Jeff didn't like where it pointed.
The day that Scott was brought back Jeff was on base, presenting his findings to the Base Commander, one Colonel Whistler. The colonel listened intently, looking through the information as Jeff explained everything that he had found. From the frowns and the discussion it was clear that the man had no idea about the scientist's past.
They were interrupted just as Whistler and Jeff were discussing how to deal with the situation going forward. But it was a welcome intrusion. The news that Scott had been rescued and was on his way back to the base put pay to further discussion.
When Jeff eventually saw his son he was horrified. Almost six weeks of captivity had left its' mark – literally. Scott was black and blue, skin and bones telling the tale of multiple beatings and worse. There would be surgeries ahead for him to help put everything right. At least he was unconscious, the monitors sounding that he was alive. It was more than Jeff had hoped for.
Doctors muttered about months of recovery, what with multiple fractures and severe bruising to some organs, not to mention evidence of drugs in his system. Jeff put his investigation aside for the Colonel to deal with and concentrated on helping his son recover.
Waking up in an actual bed, not on the hard cold ground threw Scott at first. He kept his eyes tightly shut, keeping his breathing even just in case it was a trick, but as the rest of his body started to wake up he realised that there was a hand holding his.
After six weeks of the only touch being pain-inducing, Scott was wary. Was this also a trick? He listened carefully. There were sounds he was unfamiliar with. Or rather, sounds he hadn't heard in some years.
The 'beep beep beep' of a heart monitor, the very quiet hiss of an oxygen canula, the beep and whir of a blood pressure cuff. Then the smells came. Clean, antiseptic, chemical. A hint of urine and vomit, and the very faint tang of copper blood.
Too faint to be where he had been held captive. There the stench of blood and other bodily fluids had been a constant overwhelming feature. Among other things.
The thought made him want to vomit.
He must have disturbed the person holding his hand because they gave a gentle squeeze, and it took all his self-control not to return the gesture, still unwilling to trust what his senses were telling him. But then the person spoke.
'You're safe, son. Open your eyes for me, Scott.'
'Da..?'
Even that one word was more than he could handle, throat raw from screaming and water, and he started choking on the dry sensation. And then he couldn't stop, panic gripping hold of him as memories assailed him of other times he'd been unable to talk, unable to breathe…
He didn't hear his dad tying to soothe him, nor did he hear the alarm sound and the medics come rushing. Scott wasn't conscious of anything until the pricking of a needle started a whole different memory. But then his vision and consciousness began to fade.
Jeff sat by, stunned by the reactions of his son, horrified by the meaning behind it. Once the medical team had sedated Scott, made sure he was comfortable enough and left, he took his seat and Scott's less damaged hand again, gently rubbing his thumb across the bruised knuckles.
For the next two weeks Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, clinging hard to his Dad as the centre of his waking life. He'd needed to be sedated a few times as memories overwhelmed him, and he'd needed a couple of operations to reset broken bones and more.
Life for them both became a cycle of sleep and wake and talking like they had never talked before. Jeff put his business firmly in the hands of his very capable assistant and Virgil, taking meetings and reading contracts while Scott slept.
He shared his fear of the man in the photograph, and Scott all but admitted he'd been talked into a trial for the same reasons his dad had partaken all those years ago, a desire to help people. If the drug trial had worked who knew what the applications could be for the military and the world in general.
Scott felt better that his father would – did – understand. He had begun to have doubts too, particularly since a couple of those in the trial were friends and had experienced terrible side effects. Hearing that his dad had gone through the same experience helped him tremendously.
Doctors came in and out regularly. They began to talk about Scott's physical recovery in terms of six months plus. But as time passed, and he underwent more and more scans and tests, a few more surgeries, that figure came down.
Almost three weeks into his recovery one doctor exclaimed how they had never seen injuries such as Scott's heal so quickly. Jeff exchanged a look with his son, a dread settling in his stomach. It was time for Jeff to find out how the investigation was going. He didn't really want to leave Scott, but his son was better, and he actively encouraged him to go.
Fifteen minutes after his dad had left Scott watched as one of his fellow trial members slipped through the door. The way he moved told Scott that he shouldn't have been there, and as the man stood silently at the foot of the bed, staring but not speaking, his concern mounted. There was the lightest of knocks and the man went and opened the door and let in he last person Scott ever wanted to see.
Doctor Gardner.
The man came around and sat in the chair Jeff had vacated, while the other man stayed at the end of the bed. A guard, no doubt. Scott shifted to sit more upright, grunting in pain.
'Now, Scott. You don't have to make yourself respectable just for me.' The voice was very soft, with ever such a slight trace of an accent. 'I was beginning to think your father would never leave, that I wasn't going to get a chance to talk to you.'
He leant forward and made to take Scott's hand, but stopped short, sighing as he saw the flinch. Instead, he turned to the guard and gestured for Scott's notes, and sat back, reading through them. When he was finished he sat back, file closed on his knees, observing Scott with an inscrutable look.
'So, I was right.' He tapped the file. 'All these years I've waited to find the perfect candidate for my serum. I thought I had found it in your father, but the experiment was pulled before I could finish it. It took a lot to get back up and running.'
Gardner's eyes took on a glazed look as he remembered.
'I had to hide who I was to get the position here. And then I was rewarded for my persistence. With you.'
Scott started. Doctor Gardner sat forward again and reached forward suddenly, snagging Scott's hand and immediately feeling for his pulse. He smiled as he felt the racing beat.
'You have been the proof that my work is valid. Just imagine all the good we could do if we work together.'
Scott finally found his voice. 'Work together? What about all the people who have been hurt by your serum? All the lives destroyed?' The doctor waved a hand carelessly.
'Every breakthrough has its teething issues. They all helped me improve. Now, with your help I can take the next step.' The hand around his wrist suddenly tightened, forcing his arm down into the bed. The man's grip was like iron, and Scott didn't have the strength to fight him.
'You not only survived our little experiment, according to the medics, you are healing at a far faster rate than you should be.'
'What are you talking about? What next step?' If Scott thought his heart had been beating fast before, it was positively racing now.' The doctor's smile turned feral.
'Well, what do you suppose the next step would be in producing a super soldier, Captain Tracy?'
Scott shuddered. The guard man came forward and passed something to the doctor. To Scott's horror it was a syringe. He struggled to free his arm, but with only that arm working he couldn't manage it.
The guard moved forward, taking over from the doctor, pulling Scott's arm straight as the doc flicked the syringe and expelled an air bubble. As he worked he spoke words that chilled Scott to the core.
'You not only survived our little experiment, according to the medics, you are healing at a far faster rate than you should be. The next step is to make you more compliant. Don't worry so much, Scott. In fact, after this takes affect you won't worry about much after this.'
He didn't get any further.
The door to Scott's room burst open, and in piled his father, the Colonel and a couple of Security Forces, guns out and ready. The sudden noise made everyone pause, and in the mayhem of everyone rushing in the Doctor made to plunge the syringe into Scott's arm.
It was his father who saved him. Jeff lunged across the bed and stopped the man's hand just before he reached Scott's arm. In the struggle that ensued the syringe was dropped and crushed underfoot.
It didn't take long for the SF's to get the two men under control. As the two men were led out, the man who had stood guard turned to Scott and spat at him.
'The next time our paths cross I will shoot you where you stand.'
They were bundled out of the room, the Colonel offering a tight smile before following. Jeff sat down heavily beside Scott, gently taking his hand and wincing at the fresh bruising already appearing on his wrist and arm.
Scott's eyes were wide and his breathing laboured. Jeff leant forward until Scott focussed on him and smiled softly while gently squeezing his hand and cupping his son's cheek with the other, thumb gently caressing the bruises.
'It's over, Scotty. I'm here. I'm here and I'm not leaving you again.'
He repeated the words over and over until Scott's breathing evened out and his eyes dropped. And Jeff sat back, sighing in relief.
It was over.