Written for Whumptober Day 1 - Prompt: Waking Up Restrained/Shackled
Requested by Zeke on Tumblr
Gar woke up to an overwhelming ringing in his ears.
High-pitched and obnoxious, he screwed his eyelids shut tighter than they already were, at least taking comfort in the dark to not immediately be overwhelmed by the sensory input. His head hurt – pounded in a rhythm matching his racing heartbeat and everything was just too loud to process.
He groaned. Involuntarily, he wanted to bring one hand up to his face, press the heels of his palms into his eyes to elevate the pain. But he only managed to move them a few inches before something made them snap back. He pulled again, harder this time. Cold metal dug into his wrist.
Gar tried to raise his other arm but found that one similarly restrained. Panic instantly started creeping up his throat, smothering his mind and rational thinking. Instinct made him try to sit up, or curl into a ball to be a smaller target – only to find he couldn't move his legs either. Metal cuffs were fastened just above his ankles, keeping the limbs in place. Whatever bound his arms had more give to it but didn't allow for full-body movements either.
Desperately trying to transform into something smaller, bigger, stronger, anything else - Gar was too exhausted to make it stick. Normally he wouldn't be having this much trouble simply tearing off whatever had him restrained, but he felt weak and nauseous and his head still hurt.
He was gonna hurl.
Blinding white was all he could see when he finally managed to force his eyes open. It burned his hypersensitive vision, making him hiss through his clenched teeth but he refused to close them again. It was impossible to make out anything against the stark lighting of the room. Blurry shapes moved above him, but he didn't know who are what they were.
There was a memory stuck behind his eyelids. It seeped in, filtered over his thoughts, and then it was everywhere, everything he could think of. He was a child again, maybe five or six years old and his mother was holding his hand while his father pulled the safety straps tight.
She was crying, endless wet in blue eyes, and her tears fell against Gar's cheek, unbearably cold on his feverish skin. His father cleaned the bite wound, but he barely felt it. Just felt his mother squeeze his hand tighter.
They were talking but he couldn't hear them or couldn't understand, confused and scared. He tried to move but couldn't do that either. His father told him to stay still. "This will hurt a bit, dear," his mother said softly, pushing her mouth right up against his ear. "Be strong for us."
The syringe was filled with green.
He tore at the restraints through the entire transformation, until he cut himself so badly he ended up bleeding. Pain ripped through his body with the power of a million pinpricks fast turning into a burning sensation from within his own flesh. Gar screamed until his throat couldn't produce sound anymore, while his DNA arranged and rearranged itself erratically.
He thought he had forgotten that. Maybe he had before. But he pulled now just as hard as back then, hyperventilation causing a lack of oxygen that made everything spin. One of the shapes touched his shoulder. "Beast Boy, calm down," it said. "This is for your own good."
Maybe he did something wrong? Maybe that was why this was happening?
He was ten years old when it happened. He broke dishes in the kitchen. He used his powers when he shouldn't have. He fucked up on a mission and disappointed them. He didn't remember.
Mento - Steve – grabbing his wrist and dragging him through the hallway, so roughly it felt like his shoulder might pop clean out of its socket. Rita was yelling at him, hands frantic and she could stop him, maybe. Gar was waiting for her to stop him. Then he was being pushed onto the bed in their medbay.
The bed had straps, leather ones that they only used for emergencies. Gar had been with the Doom Patrol for two years and he never saw anybody use them, Steve just explained it to him when he joined. Now, the straps were drawn tight across his limbs, a bigger one encircled his chest. He flailed against them and Steve ignored it. "This is for your own good."
Gar wanted to answer, but only broken sobs escaped him.
Steve didn't say another word as he walked out again. Rita stood in the doorway for one fragile moment. Her hands were held in front of her, over her heart, like she could feel his pain in her own chest. Gar was screaming, crying, begging for her to help. Then she turned away and followed her husband to the living room.
They had their own yelling match. Gar didn't hear it, too panicked to register it probably in the darkness of the room, but Steve never did subject him to that punishment again. He did not apologize either, but whenever Gar did something wrong after that it would stick to the back of his throat, the threat of a repeat of that awful night.
Maybe that had been Steve's intention from the start.
Somebody was shaking him, talking to him. Gar blinked back into reality so abruptly it felt like a physical shockwave. The brightness of his vision had cleared but barely, just enough for him to tell that the blurry shape was a person. The ringing had subdued enough for him to hear their words but not to process them.
"Please," he said. It came out like a hoarse whisper. Part of him was still fighting it, pulling at the restrains is unsteady tugs. But even more so he felt exhausted. "Please stop. I won't do it anymore, I-"
His words made them still. Then they started horridly undoing whatever they had used to tie him down. Gar was still pulling against the metal and as soon as it came undone he rolled off the bed and onto the floor. He landed hard on his side, his chest ached with some unknown wound he had aggravated with the movements. But it was barely something he noticed against the pure relief flooding his senses.
The person who had helped him kneeled down next to him and through rapid blinking Gar could finally make out her familiar features. Raven had worry etched into every corner of her expression, she put both hands on his arms and they were warm. Even in his current stage, Gar couldn't help but lean into that touch subconsciously
"I'm sorry." It was a soft whisper against his ear, her voice unsteady in a way not hers at all. He shook his head, curled against the tight pain of a broken rib. "I'm sorry, Gar, we thought you-"
"What happened?" he interrupted her. With his regained mental awareness came mostly pain, but confusion still made it hard to grasp the situation. His memory was merely a haze of smells and sounds.
Raven hesitated. Her hands were still pressed against him, curled into the fabric of his shirt to keep him steady. He could feel the familiar sensation of her energy flow inside him, which meant she was attempting to heal his injuries, but perhaps was herself too weak to do so. He grasped her wrists gently and removed them so she knew to stop.
"You lost control," she said. Her voice was calmer now, like the gentle lapping of waves on the beach. Gar didn't know why Raven always reminded him of the ocean. "We were scared you were going to hurt yourself."
Bringing one hand up to wipe the sweat from his face, Gar saw the angry red marks of when he had attempted to rip the handcuffs off pressed into his skin. He laughed despite himself, off-kilter and slightly breathless. "Well, that didn't work."
"I'm sorry," Raven repeated again. "If I had been aware this would happen we would not have done so."
There was a clear edge of guilt to the statement, and Gar pressed his forehead against hers, so close that their noses touched and their exhales could be felt against each other's lips. "I know," he said. "I know you wouldn't."
He held her so tight it hurt. He still couldn't breathe, couldn't calm the way his heartbeat beat against her too rapid for comfort. But he held her and Raven nodded into his shoulder, brushing his hair from his face.
And together, he knew they would be okay.
Tumblr: sharada-n
