TITLE: Bruised and Broken
AUTHOR: Magican
RATING: PG-13 (angst, pain, slash)
SUMMARY: Torment, angst and a bruised and broken soul.
DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own a thing. If I did, the show would be called 'Jack
Meets Eric' and it wouldn't be allowed to air on Disney at all…
*****
I will pour the water down
On the thirsty barren land
And streams will flow
From the dust of
Your bruised and broken soul
And you will grow
Like the grass
Upon the fertile blades of Asia
By the streams of living water
You will grow
You will grow
*****
Eric's heart sank like a stone when he quietly entered the barren space. He stared at the dirty concrete floor, the grey concrete walls, the worn out chair, the thick plate of glass that divided the room into two perfect halves. He saw it all, but didn't.
The other side of the room was empty.
He walked up to the shabby chair and sat down. His hands clasped the sides of the seat, leaving a sweaty shape on the black leather when he took them back into his lap. Suddenly he noticed he had been holding his breath, and let go of it with a deep, but shaky sigh. He panted slightly, and shivered over the whole of his body.
The other side of the room was still empty.
He shifted his weight a bit, as he looked at the primitive black device that had been mounted onto the glass. The other side of the room had one exactly like it, attached to the glass like a mirror image of the one on Eric's side. The safe side.
The other side of the room was still empty.
He knew he was being watched. The small black windows in the wall behind him, and the mirror ones at the other side hid at least a dozen highly trained men, ready to follow up any command that would be necessary if either one of them broke the rules. He felt very uncomfortable, and stared down at his hands, trying to keep his eyes fixed on one point. He didn't want them to know he was terrified. He tried to conceal his trembling chin with a smile, but it came out as a grimace of agony and pain.
Something moved in the other room. The doorknob slowly turned.
A man slowly stepped into the room. He was only wearing pants of an indefinable brownish color, which were obviously too big, because they were only barely being held up by a black leather belt. His upper body showed the man was severely underfed. His bones were sticking through his skin like pointy sticks, and his stomach was a hollow place were used to be flesh. His long dirty brown hair was tied together on his back, and a grayish beard covered half the man's face. Red and purple marks and streaks covered his chest, and one eye, as well as his upper lip, was black and swollen.
Eric stood up, shoved the chair backwards and stumbled up to the glass. His eyes filled with tears, as he reach out one hand to touch the cold glass. The other man also approached the dividing window, although much slower and more careful, as if he was about to break any moment. He reached out a shivering hand like an old man, as if there was no boundary and he could just grab Eric's. Instead, his fingers spread on the glass, making five perfect blurred circles underneath Eric's hand when he took his back.
His eyes showed no tears - they were filled with many other things, not visible to the men behind the glass. But Eric read it all, and his tears kept coming, trying to cry out the pain for both of them. The torment, the angst, the suffering, the hunger. He could read in his eyes the hours of torture he had been through, the countless days he had been without food, the burden of months of pure loneliness, that had almost driven him crazy.
Eric reached out blindly for the black phone on his right, and took it of the hook. He brought it to his ear, never taking his eyes of the man at the other side. He also took the phone of the hook, and pressed it against his ear as if he wanted to absorb every single sound that could come through.
Eric whispered. "Jack…"
*****
And? What do you think?