Shades of Grey

Chapter 9-The Cell

            The torture had been going on for hours, or so Race believed, before it came to a brief pause.  Race breathed a sigh of relief as the waves of pain subsided.

            "Tag?" he called hesitantly, his voice hoarse from all the screaming he'd been doing.  "You okay?"

            There was no answer.  Race tried to turn his head so he could see Tag in the next chair, but he couldn't get his neck to cooperate.

            "Tag," he tried again.  "Answer me."

            This time, he was rewarded with a slight groan in response.  Then, the lights were flicked on, and Race winced as the light assaulted his eyes.  He blinked twice, and waited until his vision cleared.  The doctor was standing in front of him.

            "Mr. Higgins, Mr. Goldstein," the doctor said sharply.  "I do hope you are enjoying your stay in my laboratory.  I would have preferred not to have had to re-educate you in this fashion.  But, we will do what we must do."  He smirked at them both.  "But perhaps you have learned.  Mr. Higgins, please tell me your first name."

            Racetrack lifted up his head defiantly, glad that his muscles had stopped fighting him, and looked the doctor in the eye.  "The name is Racetrack," he said in as strong a voice as he could manage.

            The doctor sighed.  "Really, Mr. Higgins, I wonder why you are so eager to have another session in my laboratory.  I was hoping that your education would proceed faster than this.  You seem to be exceptionally intelligent, yet you also appear to be a very slow learner."

            Race tried to crack a smile.  "I never was one for school," he told the doctor.  "Especially when I didn't like the lessons that were being taught."

            "You'll learn to like this," the doctor hissed.  "My lessons have never failed.  Just ask Ms. Marks.  When she first got here, she was like you – proud, defiant.  Now, she has learned her place and is well on her way towards becoming a productive and useful member of society."

            "You ain't gonna beat me, Doc."

            "I do not lose, Mr. Higgins."  He turned away from Racetrack, and instead focused on Tag.  Racetrack tried to readjust how he was sitting in his chair so he could see what was going on, and was rewarded with a partial view of his fellow inmate.

            Tag looked awful.  He was drenched in sweat, and his hair was plastered to his face.  He was breathing heavily, and was much paler than normal.

            "Well, Mr. Goldstein," the doctor began.  "Same question as I asked Mr. Higgins.  Your first name is?"

            "Matthew," Tag replied instantly.  He kept his head bowed, refusing to meet either Racetrack or the doctor's eyes.

            "Much better, Mr. Goldstein." The doctor positively beamed at him.  "I'm glad to see that you've learned your lesson."  The doctor refocused his attention on Racetrack.  "You should learn from your compatriot, Mr. Higgins.  Your useless rebellion will only cause you unnecessary pain and suffering.  Do you really wish to put yourself through that, when you can instead end the pain for yourself?"

            "I'm not going to let you win," Race snapped.

            "But Mr. Higgins, I already have won."

            Race shook his head.  "No."

            The switch was flipped back on, and he began screaming again.

~*~

            Racetrack wasn't sure how many hours had passed, and how many more 'sessions' he had spent in the doctor's torture chamber before he had given in and told the doctor that his name was Anthony.  He was still shaking, but at least it had ended now.

            But the important thing was, he hadn't just given in.  He had fought until he could fight no longer.  Now, he was going to rest for as long as they would let him, and prepare for the next round.  Because this wasn't over yet.  He wouldn't let it be.

            The two orderlies dragged Racetrack through the halls.  Racetrack's legs were too weak to support him, and he was barely able to resist.

            He could see some of the other inmates as they were being ushered from their cells to the common room.  Some expressions offered him sympathy, others disgust.  He could vaguely make out Amy, who was watching him from the doorway to the mess hall with a mixed expression of pity and sadness.

            Nurse Snyder was waiting for him at his cell.

            "Defeated at last, Mr. Higgins?" she snarled.  "I'm glad you've come to your senses."

            Racetrack raised his head and looked at her, hoping to come up with some sort of witty response, but the thought of ending back up in that chair stifled whatever sarcastic response he normally would have offered.  But he did stare back at her in defiance.

            "Lock him up with the other delinquent," Nurse Snyder ordered.

            The orderlies grinned wickedly, and kept on dragging Racetrack down the hall, until they reached a single cell, that was bolted shut.

            One orderly flung open the door, and the other threw Racetrack in, slamming the door behind him.

            Racetrack looked around the cell from where he had fallen, his eyes slowly adjusting to the decreased ambience of the cell.  It was a small stone chamber, with no bed, and only a single window that was far out of reach.  The window was the only source of light or fresh air for the cell.

            A whimper from the corner attracted his attention.  Tag was sitting there, slowly shaking back and forth.  He was a total wreck.  His hair was sticking out in all directions, and there were fresh bruises on his face.  He didn't speak, and barely seemed to acknowledge Racetrack's presence.

            Racetrack tried to get to his feet, but his legs were still unsteady.  Ashamed of himself for falling this far, Racetrack crawled his way over to Tag, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

            Tag flinched back from Racetrack's friendly touch.  Race's hand dropped to his side.

            "Racetrack?" he asked hesitantly.  "Is that you?"

            "Yeah," Race said.  "I'm here."

            "I thought that they killed you," Tag said quietly. 

            "Nah, I'm still here," Race said, voice full of the bravado that he was lacking internally.

            "I… I'm sorry," Tag said.  "I left you.  I left you like they left me."

            "No," Race said stubbornly, putting his hand back on Tag's shoulder.  "You didn't leave me.  You were protecting yourself.  And you're here now, so it's all okay."

            Tag shook his head.  "No, I left you.  I shouldn't have left you.  It's what they did to me.  I'm an utter failure."

            Race sighed.  If he hadn't gotten Tag into this in the first place, he wouldn't be willing to put up with this stupidity.  But he was really tired of it.

            "No. You're not. So quit saying you are, because I already have a headache as is, and you really aren't helping much," he said crossly.

            Tag started to object, but then shook his head, and went back to shaking.  "I wish you wouldn't yell at me," he said quietly.

            "Then stop acting like such a baby," Racetrack grumbled.

            "I… I…" Tag stopped talking all together.

            "How long have you been in here?" Racetrack asked him.

            "Two days," Tag said shakily.  "Ever since they took me out of that chair."

            "Well, at least those two days weren't in the chair," Racetrack snapped back.

            "I know," Tag said.  "I can't imagine what it is you went through."

            "It wasn't that bad," Race told him.  He'd be damned if he was going to give Tag another guilt complex on top of the one he already had.  "Besides, I got you into it in the first place by making you play poker."

            "It was the most fun I'd had since I got here," Tag told him.  "Well, up until the being tortured part."

            "Yeah," Race laughed.  "That part…"

            "They've done worse though," Tag told him.  "I mean, at least it wasn't Iso.  They did that to Pitch and… well, you saw what happened to her."  Tag laughed nervously.  "They hate her so much, even more than the rest of us.  And it's not even because she fought them, it's because of Tara.  They don't approve of people like us."  Tag gasped.  "Her.  I mean, people like her."

            Tag hid his head behind his hands.

            "You probably hate me now," he said quietly.

            "If I don't hate Amy, why would I hate you?"

            Tag sighed.  "Because I like boys, and that's wrong."

            "No it ain't," Race said quietly.  "You can't help who you like."

            "So, you don't hate me?"

            "Nah.  I think you need to grow a backbone though."

            "You aren't going to leave me?"

            "No Tag."

            "Or tell them?"

            "Do you really think that I'd send someone back to their torture chambers?"

            Tag thought about it for a moment.  "No…"

            "Of course I wouldn't," Racetrack told him.  "Nobody deserves something like that."

            "They may as well send me back there.  After all, I'm never getting out of here."

            "You'll get out.  We all will."

            "No. I… I don't know how to cope.  After the fighting, and getting shot… I can't be on my own.  I'm, I'm safer here.  If I go out there, I panic.  Next year, they… they're going to move me to a longer care facility.  I'll be there 'til I die."

            "You're stronger than that," Race told him.  He looked over at Tag, took in his messy disastrous appearance, and saw the inner strength that was still inside him.

            "Nope."

            Race sighed.  "Look, I wouldn't be dealing with you if you were that much of a wimp.  You survived a war.  You survived being tortured.  And you're really not that bad."

            Tag laughed, a bitter laugh unlike any that Race had heard from him before.

            "Survived for what purpose?  I'm an utter failure.  And you… you're the first person who has ever known my… my secret and hasn't hated me."

            "Yeah, well," Race began, "thing is…" his stomach rumbled.  "We going to get anything to eat or what?"

            "They haven't given me anything yet," Tag sighed.

            "Wonderful. Just wonderful," Race groaned.  He winced.  "Jesus, if Spot could hear me now…"  Race muttered to himself.

            "Spot?" Tag asked.

            "You heard?"

            "Yeah. Who is Spot?"

            "No one important," Race snapped.  He winced inwardly.  He couldn't believe he'd screwed up like that.  What was between him and Spot was best not mentioned here.  He'd heard what had happened with Amy, and he knew why Tag was so nervous about anyone finding out his secret.  He didn't want to end up like that.  What he wanted was to get home, and to be back with Spot, and pretend that the whole thing was just some sort of alcohol induced nightmare.

            "He your best friend or something?"

            Race sighed.  To deny what was between him and Spot after everything that Tag had told him would be wrong.

            "Boyfriend, actually," he said gloomily. 

            "You… you're like me?" There was more hope in Tag's voice than Race had ever heard from him before.  "But you have someone."

            "Yeah, well, he's back in 1899, and you guys keep telling me that I'm in 1967 or whatever."

            "You are in 1967."

            "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

            "You really are crazy," Tag sighed.  "Too bad."

            "Will you just shut up already?"

            "So you hate me?"

            Race sighed, and leaned towards Tag.  "No. I don't hate you.  I think you're a good person. Now will you shut up about me being crazy?"

            "Well you are, and it's cute."

            "Cute?" Race raised an eyebrow.  "You hitting on me now?"

            "…"

            "I'll take that as a yes."

            "It's just… you tried to protect me, and you believe in me, and you're like me.  Do you know how rare that is?"

            "Yeah.  And I'm with Spot."

            "But he's 68 years in the past.  Does it matter what you do?"

            "Shut up," Race grumbled.  "I don't want to think that way."

            "I… I'm sorry," Tag muttered, hanging his head.  "I don't know what came over me.  I'm such a fool."

            "No, you're not."  Race didn't understand what was happening.  He was with Spot, he loved Spot.  And now just because he was stuck in a cell with a guy who was actually fairly cute and was possibly going to be starved to death, he was actually considering…

            Race leaned in, and kissed Tag full on the mouth.

            Tag kissed him back, wrapping an arm around Race's neck.     

            Soon, all objections flew from Racetrack's mind, and all he could think about was the moment, and the here and now, and Tag.

~*~

Author's Notes: I like Tag.  I like that B let me abuse him.  And then by abuse him, I mean have him fool around with Racetrack.  A lot.  Um. Yeah.  Also, Spot is not very happy with Race right now.  But I really don't blame him.  This chapter is dedicated to Funkie, because it was her birthday and I couldn't finish this in time. Love you dearie.  And many thanks to B for the beta.

Also, I've recently started writing with the ever awesome Gothic Author.  You can find our joint account under the name SpRace Cake.  It is our mission to bring SpRace fluff into the world. :-D

Next chapter: There are some consequences to Race and Tag's little hook up.  *evil laugh*

Disclaimer: I don't own the newsies.  I wish I did.

Shout-outs!

B-Yep, Shock Treatment is also a Rocky reference.  And yes, it's all Dan's fault that you know that.  And I bet you were right on Tag's secret. :P  No poking me! 333

Thistle-I like being evil.  Sadly.  The boys are rather annoyed with me because of it.

CiCi-For all that I love to torture Race, I also would never permanently cause harm. Well. Maybe.  And as for him getting out… well, you'll have to wait and see

Nani-No! Stay away from the pretty hair! *cuddles Dutchy*

Shot Hunter-Glad you're enjoying my cruelty. MWAHAHAHAHA

Gothica-*loves*  Don't worry, I still am a massive Race fangirl, as you know. The torture will pay off eventually. *grin*

Dreamer-Seriously, that scene was the entire purpose of Multi's character. Because I found the idea amusing.  And yes, poker rules.

Scout73-I definitely had way too much fun giving him shock treatment.  It's probably a disease by this point…

Jacky-I'm a firm believer in that school of thought.  You only hurt the ones you love… at least when it comes to newsies.

Glimmer-I'm so glad to be in the NJL with you. *hearts*  And yes, getting Race to do anything is nearly impossible.  But, I try.

Duncan-Sorry I took so long! But, I hope it was worth it. :)

Sockfree-Don't worry, Killer will be coming back later…

Rumor-*grins*  I like puns.  Too many Xanth novels as a kid… and Race was more cooperative this chapter, mostly because he got to make out with Tag…

Til next time!

~TSB