Finding Your Voice
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then I don't own it.
A/N: For 2021 Whumptober #2 Gagged
All he'd done was requested that his dog, Billy, be let out to go potty when his fed-up captor pulled out an old bandana. Yanking it around his mouth, he roughly tied it in an unnecessarily tight knot at the back of his head. Murdock could feel the hairs pulling at his scalp as they were caught in the material.
"That will shut you up," His captor growled, cuffing him hard on the side of the head. He swayed with the hit, but thankfully the chair he was tied to remained upright. He was bound hand and foot, which left no room for movement. The criminal gave a menacing chuckle as he slammed the door shut behind him. The old, rusty latch refused to hold up against the abuse as the door creaked ever so slightly open. The prisoner stared at the exit with longing.
The Captain had been lured out of the mental hospital he lived in, by the distressed sounds of a dog. A dark hood had been pulled over his head and a syringe of sedatives plunged into his neck before he'd been spirited away.
He'd regained consciousness to find himself strapped into a chair in a sketchy-looking, old warehouse storeroom. There had been nobody in the room so he'd naturally started singing after finding no give in his restraints.
The material bit into the side of his mouth as he tried to breathe through it. It was so tight it pulled his lips up into a morbid almost-smile. He was not happy with the current situation, so he didn't want to smile. Not to mention the gag smelled like old socks. Not even the fun kind, that talked to him. He looked down at his bare toes with sad eyes. He could have used some company too.
As a soldier, prisoner, mental health patient, and occasional vigilante mercenary, he had experienced many unpleasant things in life. He'd been bound, beaten, tortured, shot, placed in a straight jacket, handcuffed, and imprisoned. Yet, he'd been able to talk himself through it all. Without his voice to guide him, he was alone to become lost in his own head.
He liked to talk because his head was too filled up with thoughts. Without a way to verbalize them, they often turned dark and frightening. He was crazy, not stupid. Many people saw him as a little kid. In many ways they were right. He liked simple things and enjoyed life with a carefreeness that many children possessed. He was a warrior, he'd seen the darkest, most brutal things mankind had to offer. Hell, he had participated in much of it. That was war. It had broken something inside him that would never be whole again. When he helped people with his brothers by his side, he felt more like himself than when he first went to war many years ago. The man in the mirror was not so much the dark stranger that frightened him. Instead, H.M. Murdock was a man, flawed, but searching for happiness every day.
He talked about things that made him happy, words spewed from his mouth to drown out the dark thoughts that crept in. He often annoyed people, mostly B.A. and currently his captors but the words kept him as sane as he could be. Talking, singing, and even acting, allowed him to win the battle against his dark psyche.
A growling dog slunk into the room from the ajar door. Hiding in the shadows the two abused captives sat eyeing one another. Without the ability to speak, his usual softly spoken words could not soothe the beast. The human desired to befriend the animal. He started humming, pulling at his lips painfully. The dog's half-chewed ears perked up at the noise.
Wiggling his fingers, he could feel blood began to flow down his badly chaffed wrists, yet he continued his quest. He didn't want to be alone among his enemies. He wanted a friend. He grunted in pain as his fingertips brushed against the bag of jerky. He'd saved it in his pocket for B.A. the next time the team had to fly. Pulling it free, he hissed in pain as he let it drop from his swollen fingers.
He craned his neck to look away from the dog and the offered meal. His neck began to protest when he heard the faint sounds of the canine creeping closer. It snatched its meal before running back to the safety of the shadows. He hummed until his dry mouth refused to make another sound.
All was still and silent within the room. Murdock laid his head against the back of the chair with a sigh through the gag. He closed his eyes in despair. His brothers would come for him, they always did. No matter if he was taken from them or lost in his head. Until then he was truly alone with his thoughts. It was a place he tried at all costs to avoid.
He felt sweat begin to bead along his skin as fine tremors shook his bound body, causing the ropes to pull painfully tight. He struggled to replace the oxygen in his lungs as he panted through his gag. His thoughts fired around his head like bullets; the chaos, and disorder of battle, with no intended target. He couldn't find his center without being able to talk himself there. He vigorously shook his head back and forth trying to make his mind come to order. There was no order to be had.
Among the swirling mental torment, he felt a nudge at his knee. He cracked open his eyes to see a pair of sorrowful brown eyes looking up at him. The dog tentatively laid its mangy head on his lap expecting violence. When none came it peeked up at the human that offered food instead of just abuse. Murdock wanted nothing more than to tell the dog it was safe but he couldn't.
They sat together in silence, both anticipating more harm at the hands of the men on the other side of the door. Neither had a voice in the matter of what happened to them next.
A familiar revving engine was heard, followed by the sound of a door being smashed open, then climaxed by gunfire. The dog whined as the firefight finished as quickly as it had started. An eerie quiet settled over the warehouse as the two waited for the fight's victor to enter the room.
The dog stood before the helpless human that had shown kindness and started to growl. Its hair stood up on end as large white canines were bared in threat. It was done being beaten down, it was ready to fight. It let out a warning bark to the unfamiliar light-haired man that entered. The world would learn that this dog's bark was as bad as its bite.
"B.A.!" The man called in backup. A large dark man covered in gold soon entered. The new figure roped the growling sentinel and gently pulled it out of the way.
"Murdock," Face knelt before the tied form. He carefully pulled the gag off first. His concerned eyes studied the silent form, "You okay?"
The bound man swallowed hard before rasping out, "Dog?"
The mentioned animal pulled free, running to its new friend with an excited bark. The tail wagged as the long tongue covered the human's skin in kisses.
"Dang fool," B.A. spoke with rough affection as he carefully cut the bindings off, "Doesn't even have to say anything and still makes friends with any mangy mutt that crosses his path."
"Come on, Billy Jean, time to go home," Murdock stood up on bare feet, as the newly named dog followed him out the door.
"Great, another dog named Billy," B.A. grumbled.
"At least we can see this one," Face brought up the rear, closing the door of the once prison, without a second glance.
They found Murdock at the van, his wounds being tended to by Hanibal. Laughing their rescued pilot told their team leader all about Billy Jean and her family history, favorite tv shows, other dogs she dated, and so on. The dog just sat, content at the talking man's side.