Febuwhump Day 25: Muffled Screams
Word Count: 789
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Heymans Breda, Riza Hawkeye
Warning: Unseen torture
Summary: Breda and Hawkeye have been kidnapped by enemies of both Amestris and Mustang. Its not going well for either of them, although in quite different ways.
Notes: N/A
Muffled Screams
Breda's jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and every inch of him tense as the screams echoed down the hallway and into his cell. They were muffled, due to distance, but he could still hear them. They ate at him, making him angrier and angrier. He knew what they were for. They were for him. They could have taken her anywhere to do this, but they had made sure he could hear her screams. They wanted him to know what they were capable of. They wanted him to reveal information in return for stopping her torture. It was as much to physically torture her for information as it was to psychologically torture him into giving up information. That was why they made sure he could hear her screams.
He didn't know how much more of this they could take. They had been kidnapped for what he estimated was nearly a week. It had clearly been a targeted attack, and one to be taken seriously. They had killed the two soldiers that Breda and Hawkeye had been with and not hesitated to rough them up. It had been very professional, very quick, and Breda was fairly certain that this was an operation by another country. Their dog tags had been taken, Hawkeye's hair had been chopped off, and questioning had begun.
It wouldn't have been so bad, or at least, not out of the realm of the expected, if not for two things: One, Hawkeye was a woman and well known to be favored by Mustang. She was also a very attractive woman. There was always the possibility riding in the back of their minds that she would be assaulted for that. Two, the tattoo across her back. Which, frankly, was a surprise to Breda too.
It had been revealed in a tussle where it looked like the first concern might come to fruition. Breda had struggled against his bonds, struggled against the captors, and Hawkeye had fought like a wildcat. Somewhere in that fight, her shirt had been ripped off. She had almost immediately moved to protect her back but was overpowered anyway. However, the captors had stared in amazement at her back, even as she still struggled, and Breda had too.
She had been hauled away after that, and he had heard her fighting them all the way down the hall. When she had been returned, hours later, she had been mostly intact, although shirtless and distressed. She had been more distressed every time they took her away, and as Breda had gotten the story of her back out of her, he understood why.
But after a couple of days, it hadn't been enough. They had taken him, demanded information from him that he both couldn't give and wouldn't give. He'd been beaten, roughed up, and he was pretty sure his nose was broken, but all in all, he was intact. He might have to limp out of here, but as it currently stood, he could.
Hawkeye on the other hand…
He tried not to flinch as another round of muffled screams came from down the hallway. He wasn't going to give the guard at the door the satisfaction.
Finally—Finally! —the screams ended, and, after a few minutes, the door was opened. A couple of guards walked in, dragging Hawkeye behind them. They dropped her on the floor, making sure not to get too close to Breda, and then left, locking the door behind them. Breda waited a moment, then hurried over to Hawkeye as fast as he could.
She was, curled around herself as best she could be, shuddering and sobbing. Her back was bare, as was unfortunately normal, and the only part of her not touched. Their captors, apparently, wanted to keep that information available to them.
Breda took his coat and put it around her again, as he did every time, affording her some privacy and, hopefully, comfort. Her broken hand was still unsplinted, her knee still swollen, and lacerations, bruises and burns covered her. He looked over her for fresh wounds, checking on the old ones as well, softly talking to her to reassure her about who he was and let her know what he was doing. It had become their standard procedure.
And then, as had also become part of the procedure, Breda gathered her in his arms as gently as he could, and just held her. She cried against him, and he let her, not sure which muffled screams hurt him worse—the ones from down the hall, or the ones that were choked out by the tears she cried on him.
Either way, he endured them, and prayed to gods he didn't believe in that Mustang would find them soon.