A/N: This is a dark AU of my fic The Pharmaceutical Psychic and it picks up in the middle of Ch 18: Changes. Reading the fic to understand this is recommended, but the tl;dr is this: a mad scientist forcibly gave Gus psychic abilities and then recaptured him and Shawn to be lab rats. Then bad things happened.
And then I decided… What if it went even worse? What if there wasn't a rescue?
If you just want to read the bad guy bits that lead to this, start with Ch 12: First Aid.
Needless to say, this is gonna be dark, there will be pain and blood and angst. I won't be doing chapter TW's unless it's something very specific/triggering. The one line I promise I won't cross: there won't be anything sexual. The bad guy is creepy and has no personal space, the boys are immature and make dirty jokes, but it won't go past that.
A series of images splintered into Gus' mind as Dahmer broadcasted his plan.
Gus thrown into the trunk; lid slammed over his prone form. The stairs leading down to the basement. Shawn sitting defenseless. The filled syringe. The needle buried in Shawn's arm. Screams as he's left alone with the flames.
Gus couldn't breathe; Shawn wasn't his choice. Shawn wasn't supposed to know what the fire felt like.
He fought harder than he'd ever fought before, but he was too weak from the crash, the hits, the cuts. He still couldn't feel his feet, his head was swimming, his hands were cuffed behind his back, his mouth was taped shut. He still fought.
He couldn't let Shawn get the needle.
The back of his head rammed into the bad guy's nose and he felt a burst of satisfaction. It was quickly replaced by a burst of panic as an arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off the blood flow to his head. The world dimmed and he grew weaker. Still he fought.
A foot connected with the back of his knees and he collapsed, his body hitting a metal ledge on the way down as he was leveraged into the trunk. He looked up to see a pair of crazy blue eyes and a smile with too many teeth before the lid was closed. He was plunged into darkness.
Gus forced himself to breathe through his panic as he rode out the headrush, trying to think past the stars bursting behind his eyes and the blood pulsing in his ears. He was in the trunk, but he didn't have to be trapped. He felt for his left hand and found his thumb joint. He knew how his bones fit together, he understood how to do this. He had to do this.
He had to get out of the trunk before Dahmer got down the stairs.
He began to put pressure on his thumb before he paused, forcing himself to take a second to think things through. Breaking his thumb joint wouldn't guarantee he could slip out of the cuffs, but it would guarantee that he'd have one less hand to fight with when he tried to stop Dahmer. That was sure to be a lost fight. He needed to find another way to deal with the cuffs and keep both of his hands in commission.
Gus growled in frustration as he heard the front door of the house slam shut, he let go of his thumb as he began to wiggle around. He bent over, hitting his head against the side of the trunk in the process, and quickly maneuvered his hands down past his butt, past his knees, past his feet. He brought his hands back up quickly, now in front of him, and frantically felt around for a trunk release.
He choked back a sob when his searching hands found nothing. It was taking too long.
He thought quickly, his mind counting down the seconds until it wouldn't matter anymore. There wasn't enough room for him to maneuver to kick the truck open. There weren't any convenient crowbars or tire jacks around. He was quickly running out of options.
Gus rolled over so he could brace his shoulders against the lid, his feet wedged in the corner to give him enough room to throw his weight against the unyielding metal above him. He kept ramming his body against the lid, arms shaking, head pounding, shoulders protesting the abuse. He struggled to breathe in enough oxygen through his nose, not willing to stop for even the second it would take to peel the duct tape away from his mouth.
He had to get out, there wasn't any other option. He had to save Shawn.
He knew the moment it was too late. Faint prickling climbed through his arm before quickly flowing through the rest of his body. An echo of an echo of fire burning him from the inside out.
Gus screamed through his gag and threw his body desperately against the trunk again, knowing it was a weaker hit, knowing he wasn't going to get out. Knowing that he had failed.
He couldn't hear his best friend screaming, he didn't have to. He could feel it in his heart, like he was being ripped in two. He sobbed, tears flowing down his face, the weak thumps against the trunk getting even weaker.
His arms collapsed under him and he stopped trying, curling up and crying and gasping for breath. He whined and frantically clawed at his face, his fingernails finding the edges of the tape and ripping it away from his mouth. He felt a jolt of guilt and had to choke back another sob as he realized Shawn didn't have the luxury of being able to take his gag off.
The front door closed again and Gus stilled, forcing himself to breathe quieter as he listened to the crunch of shoes on gravel. A plan mixed with hate grew in his mind, the idea and emotion rising through his chest and filling him with a burst of energy and purpose. Dahmer was going to pay.
He waited until he could hear Dahmer passing the trunk before he started yelling as loud as he could, "YOU PIECE OF SHIT FUCKFACE ASSHOLE WHO'S NEVER HEARD OF A BREATH MINT BASTARD OF A MONKEY AND A MOSQUITO WITH THE BRAINS OF A DODO! YOU EMPTY-HEADED ANIMAL FOOD TROUGH WIPER, YOU WARTHOG FACED BUFOON, YOU FUCKING CUNTSHIT!"
He kept yelling, curse words and insults and movie quotes all blending together as he heard the car door slam closed. The trunk vibrated as the car turned on and began to move down the long driveway.
Gus moved so his face was as close to the car's interior as possible as the insults kept flowing, "YOU FOUL, LOTHESOME, EVIL COCKROACH! YOU ABORTED ABORTION! YOU WORTHLESS, IDIOTIC, FUCKING WASTE OF CARBON!"
Gus could hear the cracking beakers flaring red and the electrodes against his skin were pulling in distaste, but Dahmer wasn't doing what he needed yet. He took a deep breath and decided to try a different approach, "SHE'S NEVER GOING TO LOVE YOU. THE ONLY REASON SHE HASN'T RUN YET IS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T WANT TO GET HER HANDS DIRTY. HOW COULD SHE EVER LOVE SOMEONE LIKE YOU? YOU'RE STUPID, YOU'RE UGLY, YOU SMELL LIKE GYM FEET, YOU COOK LIKE A BABOON, YOU FUCKING HAD TO KIDNAP HER AT GUNPOINT JUST TO GET HER TO EVEN STOMACH LOOKING AT YOUR FACE!"
The car slammed to a stop and Gus was thrown against the back of the trunk. The pains in his body and arms and head all flared at the hit and he gladly welcomed them, using it to fuel his hate even further. He bared his teeth in fierce victory as he heard the car door slam back open and he scrambled to get into a better position, ready to jump and fight as soon as the lid opened.
He was going to make Dahmer feel every hit he had given him and Shawn. Gus needed to get the knife and make him feel the cuts too.
And then Gus was going to kill him.
The trunk opened and Gus threw himself out, less like a graceful jackal and more like a newborn foal. It didn't matter, he caught Dahmer off-guard, their bodies colliding and limbs flailing in all directions. Gus saw a flash of metal and reached with his cuffed hands for the knife slashing towards him. He stopped its progress and hung on grimly, focused solely on prying it out of Dahmer's hand.
An arm wrapped around his neck again and he had to split his attention. He kept the knife away from his body and turned his head, pulling a page out of the Shawn Spencer fightbook as he bit down on the back of Dahmer's hand.
Dahmer howled and pulled his arm away, Gus kept his mouth clenched as long as he could, feeling the skin tear under his teeth as he tasted blood. That could count for the cuts on his arm. He still needed the knife to pay Dahmer back for Shawn's injuries.
He redoubled his efforts to gain control of the scalpel, knowing he had to end the fight quickly before he was overpowered again. Dahmer's fingers finally loosened and Gus was able to pry the knife away. He immediately clenched his hand around the handle and turned to slash towards the bad guy, his movements awkward as he worked around the handcuffs. Dahmer dodged the cut and moved in fast, throwing a punch at Gus' head.
His aim was true and the blow connected in the exact same spot Gus had hit his head in the car accident hours earlier that day. Gus' vision went dark and he had to remind himself to keep holding onto the knife. Then he had to remind himself to breathe. Opening his eyes seemed like a logical third step, but before he was able to fully carry out his brain's command he felt a hand wrapping around his throat.
Awareness slammed back into him and he opened his eyes, gasping for breath as he tried to slash at the hand cutting off his air. Dahmer blocked the cut with his other forearm and tore the scalpel from Gus' hands, tossing it behind him before grabbing the chain of the cuffs and pulling them down. Gus tried to pull his hands back as his lungs burned, but his adrenaline-fueled strength was fading fast. Dahmer shoved him back, pinning him to the car and squeezing his throat even tighter.
"Jeffery, we need him to be alive to run tests." Rhianna reminded him from the front seat with her window rolled down.
"Oh, he'll still be alive when I'm done. Don't worry." Dahmer snarled as he pulled Gus back and slammed him into the car again, his fingers digging deep into the sides of Gus' throat. Gus could feel himself weaken, his chest stuttering and burning as his vision grew fuzzy. Dahmer grinned in triumph and pulled him away from the car to throw him to the ground.
Gus stayed down on the hard dirt and brought his hands up to his neck, unable to do anything but gasp for breath. Every wheeze and cough felt like shards of glass running through his abused throat.
Dahmer put his foot on Gus' left leg and pressed down, making sure he stayed put. "It seems you need a bit more incentive to behave…"
Dahmer reached into his lab coat and pulled out his gun. He turned to Rhianna, "My dear, you might want to look away."
Gus realized what was about to happen but couldn't make his limbs move fast enough to prevent it. Dahmer aimed and pulled the trigger and a bolt of hot pain lanced through Gus' left thigh. Gus cried out and grabbed his bleeding leg, curling over it protectively as the pain continued to grow and flare. The detached part of his mind noted that he was bleeding in two spots, the wounds weren't spurting, and no bones felt broken. So, really, it wasn't all that bad.
Gus mentally told the detached part of his brain to kindly fuck off because he'd just been fucking shot. And it hurt, damnit.
Dahmer only gave him a moment to readjust to life with two extra holes in his body before he grabbed the handcuff chain and pulled, forcing Gus back to his feet. Gus stumbled, the pain from the bullet wound spiking up and down his leg as he put weight on it. His leg buckled suddenly and he fell against the car, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out again. Dahmer gave the chain another jerk as he kept his gun out and ready. Gus forced his legs to limp forward; he'd lost this round, now he needed to try and minimize the damages so they still had a chance to fight again later.
Dahmer marched him to the trunk and roughly shoved him back in, the void pulling in furious anger. Gus barely managed to save his head from another hit on the way down and had to suppress a pained giggle as he wondered if the extra punch to his face had made his concussion worse. Maybe it would affect the bad guys' MRI scans. That would be hilarious.
The small burst of humor faded quickly as Dahmer leaned in with a dangerous grin and gripped Gus' bleeding leg, "Now, let's try this again. You will be quiet, and your hands will be behind you again by the time we get to the lab. Otherwise, I will shoot your other leg. Do you understand?"
Gus bit his lip to stop himself from crying out at the burst of pain. He nodded quickly, making sure to watch to see if he was expected to answer verbally as well. Dahmer's grin grew wider at the compliance, "Good. Now stay."
He left the trunk open as he walked away and Gus could hear him rummaging around in the back seat. Gus stared at the darkening sky and surrounding forest and thought briefly about trying to escape again, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go fast enough on his hurt leg. He also knew Dahmer was just waiting for him to try to run.
"Ah, so you can learn. I was starting to lose hope for you." Dahmer said cheerfully as he returned with bulging pockets and a bottle of rubbing alcohol in hand. Gus sighed as he eyed the bottle, knowing what was coming next. He could hear a few beakers crack in amusement at his reaction as Dahmer continued, "You know, Rhianna doesn't really like blood; you're being very rude, bleeding all over her car like this."
Gus was pretty sure Rhianna was the rude one here, just sitting around while he got shot.
Dahmer's smile grew darker and dangerous as he lifted up the bottle, "Remember. Quiet."
He grabbed Gus' leg and poured the disinfectant over the bleeding wounds. Gus quickly slapped his hands over his mouth and tried to not yell as a blindingly white, searing pain engulfed his whole leg. He knew he was trying to kick Dahmer off, but the bad guy just held on and pinned him to the bottom of the trunk, watching his struggles gleefully.
The pain finally began to fade back to a tolerable agony and Gus panted around his hands, knowing better than to lower them yet. He could smell rusty copper right next to his nose and had to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat as he realized his hands were slick with his own blood and it was now all over his mouth.
He heard duct tape being pulled and he let himself imagine the field day Shawn would have when he saw how his leg was being bandaged. Rags and duct tape. Just like Shawn's shoulder when he'd been shot.
He felt a pang as he thought about his best friend and he wondered if it had been ten minutes yet. He desperately hoped Dahmer hadn't been lying about how long the formula in the syringe would last. Ten minutes of burning alive was plenty long enough to drive someone mad.
Gus gave himself a mental shake. If he'd been able to survive the fire, then so would Shawn. Shawn was the strongest person Gus knew; he'd get through it.
All other thoughts were pushed away as Dahmer's hands came back and wrapped a white cloth around Gus' leg before pressing down hard. Gus concentrated on being quiet through the new bursts of pain and he tried to console himself with the fact that at least his bad guy knew about putting pressure on the wounds.
His bad guy didn't have to be taking so much pleasure from it though.
Once Gus was able to breathe again, his leg was wrapped with a layer of cloth and duct tape and Dahmer was moving down towards his ankles. Gus watched and kept himself silent as Dahmer treated the two deep cuts on his legs. He gave himself a motivational chant to distract himself from all of the pain: 'better than burning alive with a broken leg, better than burning alive with a broken leg…'
Dahmer finally finished and pocketed his supplies before bringing the duct tape back out. "Now… let's try this again."
Gus reluctantly lowered his hands and quickly wiped his mouth off with the least-bloody part of his sleeve that he could find. Dahmer giggled slightly as he watched the frantic movements before he layered several strips of duct tape over Gus' mouth again. He patted Gus on the head when he was done, "Good boy."
Gus was quickly coming to the conclusion that dismemberment was too good for the mad man standing over him.
"Now, no more distractions. It's time to learn how you tick." Dahmer tapped Gus' forehead gently before booping his nose with a grin and slamming the trunk lid closed.
Gus sighed and gave himself a few moments to recuperate in the relative safety of the darkness. The car began to move again and he bent over, reaching his hands down as he started the slow and painful process of sliding his cuffs back over his legs.
Gus was back in the trunk, utterly exhausted from the hours in the lab. He was tired of the loud machine that felt like a coffin, he was tired of being told to listen to the cracking beakers or feel the pulling electrodes, he was tired of being forced to walk on his hurt leg, and he was fucking tired of being at the mercy of fucking crazy scientists.
He rolled his shoulders and tried to find a more comfortable position to lay in with his hands cuffed again behind his back. The one good thing about the MRI machine was that Dahmer had been forced to take the cuffs off, so Gus had had full use of his arms for the first time in hours. And then he'd promptly been told he couldn't move them while the scans were being taken.
He had been given a brief reprieve from the gag as well during the tests, answering question after question between scans.
Easily the worst part of the whole experience was the needle that Dahmer had used to inject the dye they'd needed for contrast. Getting pulled out of a panic attack by someone squeezing both ends of a bullet wound was definitely in Gus' top ten 'never ever again' list.
The car hit a pothole and Gus bounced, jarring his hurt leg. He grunted in pain behind his gag, being sure to keep it quiet enough that the passengers in front wouldn't hear him. His leg was on fire, the cuts and scratches on his arm were searing from where he was being forced to lay on them, and his head was throbbing with every beat of his heart.
Not counting Dahmer's formula, it was easily the most pain he'd ever felt in his entire life.
Gus shifted again, feeling the beads from his necklace dig into his leg where he was laying on them. He'd taken a risk when Rhianna had asked if there was anything metal on him before they put him in the MRI machine. He'd stayed quiet about his bracelet, hoping that the metal in the clasp was the right kind that wouldn't react to the large magnet. Shawn-luck had been on his side, it had stayed inert and hidden. He figured he'd take whatever luck they could get at the moment.
Dahmer took a fast turn before braking hard and Gus was thrown around, forced to just tuck his head in and take the hits on his shoulders and legs. The car came to a fast stop and Gus had to stifle another yell as his arms rammed into the back of the trunk.
He panted through the pain before realizing the vibrations under him had stopped. The car was off. He scooted over to press his ear against the back of the trunk, trying to hear the muffled voices in the front seat.
"I'm sorry my dear, but it's time to change vehicles. The cops will know to look for this one. Don't worry, I'll buy you a new one once we're done."
A car door opened and Gus laid his head back, hope rising as he tried to think of a way he could leave a message for when the police found the car. If nothing else, the dried blood under his legs would let them know he was still alive. He thought briefly about using fresh blood to write a message, but he couldn't think of where he could put it so Dahmer wouldn't see it.
He gently knocked his head back into the floor of the trunk, trying to force an idea to form. He closed his eyes and asked himself, 'how would Shawn find them?'
The sound of a stuttering engine broke through his thoughts and he growled in frustration, knowing he was running out of time. He twisted his arms around, trying to reach the wet bandage on his arm. He'd just have to risk the message and deal with the consequences if Dahmer caught him.
His fingers were slick with his blood and he rolled around so his hands were facing the front of the trunk. He reached out until he could feel the wall that was under the closed lid, the least visible spot from the outside. He figured the cops were probably checking through a list of abandoned buildings, he could at least help them narrow the search. The new car suddenly roared to life as Gus drew four lines in a boxy arrow-shape. He was drawing in darkness and with his hands behind his back, but he hoped the simple shape would still be recognizable as a house.
More car doors opened and closed, and Gus quickly shifted to his back, wiping his hand off as well as he could on the back of his shirt. The lid opened suddenly, and Gus had to squint against the headlights flooding the trunk. "Out. Now."
Gus struggled to sit up, his leg bursting in pain at the movement. Apparently, he wasn't moving fast enough, Dahmer growled and reached in to grab him by the arm and yank him out. Gus fell out of the trunk, his knees hitting asphalt with a flare of agony as Dahmer bodily dragged him over to the new car. Gus scrambled to get his feet back under him, his shoulder feeling like it was about to be dislocated with all of his body weight pulling on it.
Dahmer stopped and Gus was finally able to stand, just in time for him to be pushed again into a trunk. Stars rushed in front of his eyes as at all of the fast movement and Gus tried to breathe through the head rush, not wanting to pass out with the bad guy right above him.
"Try not to bleed all over this one." Dahmer giggled at his own private joke before closing the trunk and leaving Gus in darkness again.
Gus sighed and wiggled into a more comfortable position, thankful that this trunk at least was bigger than the last one. He mentally made a few marks on his rate-your-trunk-o-meter to share with Shawn later. Because Shawn was going to be fine. And Gus was going to be fine. And they were going to be able to argue about which trunks were the best to get kidnapped in.
Gus hung onto that hope as the car started driving again towards the unknown.
Juliet stared blankly at her screen, knowing she had read the same line three times and knowing that she was going to have to read it at least three more before she actually understood it. She grabbed blindly for her coffee cup and chugged the rest of it before setting it down again, ready to be refilled by the magic 6'10" police coffee fairy. They had been working on narrowing down their list of abandoned buildings for hours, and there was almost nothing to show for their work.
Juliet closed her eyes against the bright sunshine streaming through the windows and massaged her forehead, banishing the headache that was daring to try and take hold while her boyfriend and friend were being held and possibly tortured somewhere. She had promised Shawn she'd keep him safe. Some protection she was.
She shook her head and banished the thoughts to the same place as the headache. It wasn't helping and she didn't have the time or mental space for any thoughts that weren't helping. A series of statistics decided to take the thought's space, mocking her with a reminder of how unlikely it was that they would find their friends alive. It had been over twenty-four hours, none of Dahmer's recent victims had lived this long. Last time, he had only had Shawn and Gus for five hours and Gus had been minutes away from death when they were rescued.
She shook her head again with a sob and forced herself to look at her list of abandoned buildings again, wracking her mind for any other filters they could use to try and narrow the list down. They had plotted the addresses of all of the perp's previous labs and hadn't seen any pattern. They had narrowed the location radius with the moving truck, but it was still a ridiculously large area. They had people scouring traffic cameras for Millers' car or for past footage of the truck, but it was such a needle in a haystack.
Everyone at the station was working on finding Shawn and Gus, either by helping sort through evidence or by physically checking the buildings that the detectives sent them to. Almost all of them had stayed overnight. Juliet wasn't sure if Henry had even stood up from his desk since they'd gotten back from inspecting the abandoned truck. The only proof he wasn't a statue were the small movements of his hands as he scrolled and edited his list.
Juliet stared through her computer screen as she remembered flashes of the two crime scenes.
There had been so much blood. Both vehicles, the agent's car and the moving truck, had been covered in alarming amounts of it. Juliet knew her mind was overexaggerating, but it didn't stop her from wondering just how badly the boys had been hurt before Dahmer had even gotten his hands on them. They knew Shawn was more injured than Gus when they were in the moving truck, nearly all of the blood in there had been identified as his blood type. They also knew there had been at least an attempt at first aid based on the used alcohol wipes and bandage wrappers that were left in the truck container. Juliet threw that fact at her defeatist thoughts; Dahmer clearly wanted to keep Shawn and Gus alive for a while, there was a chance they weren't dead yet.
They couldn't be dead.
Juliet didn't even realize she was crying until she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder with a comforting squeeze. She looked up into the exhausted eyes of her partner. Lassiter didn't bother saying anything, no useless platitudes or cold unfeeling facts, he just let her know he was there and that she wasn't alone. She met his eyes and nodded before patting his hand and going back to work, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes so she could see clearly. Her friends were somewhere on this list. She was going to find them.
And then they were never allowed to leave her sight again.
Lassiter moved back to his desk and was just starting to sit down when his phone rang. Every head in the department turned at the sound and he quickly pulled the phone from his pocket, "This is Head Detective Lassiter."
There was a tense silence as everyone watched his face, trying to find a clue as to whether the call held hope or despair.
Lassiter's eyes suddenly sharpened, "Where?" He cursed at the answer, not bothering to try to hide the worry in his voice, before quickly snapping out a question, "Has it been searched yet?"
Juliet watched her partner's shoulders loosen slightly and she let out the breath she'd been holding. There weren't any new bodies.
"We'll be there in twenty minutes, don't touch anything." Lassiter hung up quickly and grabbed his jacket, Juliet followed his lead and made sure she had everything she needed to investigate a crime scene.
"Chief!" Lassiter yelled, not bothering to take the time to go to Vick's office as he made sure everything was ready. Vick quickly made her way to the door and looked at him expectantly, "Hikers at El Capitan reported their car stolen after they came back from camping. Millers' car was found at the scene, I need…"
"Go. Text me the exact address, I'll make sure CSI gets there." Vick ordered quickly.
Lassiter nodded and immediately strode out of the office; Henry was a silent shadow as he stood up to follow. Juliet was right behind her partner, her heart beating in her throat.
This had to be the break they needed. They were going to find them.
They had to.
A/N: Insult quote credits in order: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Princess Bride, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Quick thank you to /u/MiddleFirefighter847 and /u/Ara_Hannan on reddit for answering my questions about MRIs. I legit did research to see if Gus needed to lose his pants or not. *shrug*
