Summary: Héctor hears a cry for help on the far edge of Shantytown.

****WARNING****
Graphic aftermath of torture, strong references to assault, body horror (skeletons).

Reminder: 'socorro,' in addition to Coco's full name, is also an urgent cry of distress.

Chapter 13: A Cry For Help

January 1926

It was dusk as Héctor stumbled about the edges of Shantytown, hand buried in his pockets, kicking bits of rubbish into the ever-surrounding water and thinking about home. And the fact he didn't have one.

Things had changed since that Christmas Eve—it was subtle, but he was aware of a new tension, nearly predatory, almost as if the world was waiting for him to slip up again. He couldn't yet leave that place with the other men, but he adapted. From then on he was careful not to show his journal to anyone, careful not to show weakness. It was like walking along a narrow ledge, and he didn't know where he was going. He was afraid of what would happen if he fell...

Days passed. Then a week.

A cold Christmas. A quiet New Years.

Héctor barely noticed.

It was like standing still while the world moved on around him, and he was detached from it all. He stopped playing his song every night, the words tasting false and bitter on his lips. The girl from the docks who had once kept company was no longer there. Alvaro still grinned and joked with him, but there was a coldness between them, and Héctor felt alone even when surrounded.

He couldn't stay in that place anymore, and that was why he now wandered along the old dilapidated boardwalks. His hope was that he could find one of the odd abandoned houses out there by the water where it was quiet and no one would bother him. He didn't need much, just somewhere safe. And peaceful. Where he could be alone and people didn't stare, or laugh, or demand he play music any hour of the day or night. He wished he could just be with his family…

But this might not be so bad, he thought miserably as he gazed around at the cold, ruined world. On either side of him were empty shacks, all of them either collapsed, missing entirely, or so rotten it was hard to imagine anyone within them.

It felt like a land of ghosts…

"Ah!" he shouted as he blindly pitched forward, his toe catching on the edge of planking so he stumbled to his knees.

"Ugh, dumb wood, dumb water," he groaned, pulling himself back up and patting down the front of his pants. It was another reminder that he should really think about getting shoes.

" Socorro …"

Héctor stopped, a shiver running up his spine.

What… what was that? A memory? A ghost? Was someone calling for help? There was no one he could see. It was very, very quiet.

"Is… is someone there?" Héctor called out, holding his breath and looking out.

"Y-yes! I'm over here! Please…"

Yet Héctor still he couldn't see anyone, the shadows stretching long and dark over the water, the world an ugly wash of gray from dark clouds in the west, blotting out the low sun.

"Where are you?" Héctor shouted again, moving forward along the rickety pathway and looking this way and that. He thought it had been from the left, but there was no one, no hint of movement.

" Aquí ! I'm in here!" the voice called out desperately.

It had come from a worn down pile of rubble, too dilapidated to even be called a building. Héctor stopped at the open doorway, the frame leaning at a slant, looking so unsteady he was afraid to even touch it. Could the voice have really come from inside? Carefully, with his hands pulled tight to his chest, he peered in, not even sure if it was safe to enter.

" Señor ?" Héctor said softly, his vertebrae prickling in warning. He must have the wrong place; it looked ready to fall at the next strong breeze. But there in the gloom he caught a tiny movement, a flash of white.

"I'm in here!" the man cried out, the voice strangely muffled and oddly… familiar. "Please, help me."

Another shiver crawled up his back. This was wrong. Something was very wrong. Yet he carefully moved inside the dark building to find one wall partially destroyed and half of the roof caved in, with the remaining walls seeming to be almost propped up by rotting piles of junk that made it hard to walk, as Héctor stepped over a glass bottle and fallen debris. He looked around for the source of the voice.

But there was no one. The dark room seemed empty and still.

"Where…" Héctor began to ask, then stopped in horror.

He had found him. Or, what was left of him.

There, bound to a fallen wood beam, was the naked torso of a skeleton, the white bones of the ribs and vertebrae crossed with rope holding it up, the arms and legs gone, the bottom of the spine trailing into nothing. The head was covered in heavy, dark cloth, nearly invisible in the shadowed light. There was a strange, horrifying moment where he thought the thing must be beyond dead, a ghost of a ghost.

Then it moved.

Héctor stumbled backwards, tripping over something and then scrambling to his feet, breathing hard.

"Wait! Don't go!" the muffled thing called out, straining against the ropes. "Please, just... just untie my hands, that's all. Don't... don't leave me."

What hands ? Héctor thought in alarm. There were no hands. Did the… the skeleton, the skull, not even realize it?

Then there was movement on the other side of the shack, making him jump, and he saw something white twisting from beneath a pile of rubble. Looking around, Héctor caught other pieces of white: a leg bound to a table, and a pelvic bone hung up like decoration.

Por Dios…

He took another step back, his own bones trembling, and found himself entirely unable to speak.

What had happened?

It was no great trouble for a skeleton to disconnect, he knew that. But this… this was different. It was grotesque, like seeing a slaughter, or a man's dismemberment. Héctor moved further back, putting a hand behind him and found the edge of the door to steady himself. The wall groaned at the touch. He leapt away, afraid the roof might collapse, but it didn't, and the room fell still once more.

Looking again at the skeleton, Héctor thought he might be sick. For a terrible moment, he was tempted to leave that broken house and the broken man and run. Get far, far from whatever nightmare he had walked into.

It moved again, a desperate, twisting jerk.

"Please…" the thing whispered, and Héctor closed his eyes.

He could do this.

The covered head lifted at his approach, seeming to watch him as he stepped closer. Héctor could see the pale ribs breathing faintly, even in the dusty darkness. Something was wrong, he thought again. Something he couldn't quite place his finger on before, but he was edging closer. Where had he heard that voice before?

Standing over the bare figure, Héctor gripped the edge of the dark cloth and pulled it off, revealing the face of the man from before: the Forty-One.

The man blinked hard, shaking his head before looking up at Héctor. There was a brief flash of recognition, and then he jerked back in terror.

Neither spoke. They only stared mutely at each other, the only movement in the room was the tiny rise and fall of the man's chest as he lay there, eyes huge and staring, waiting for whatever Héctor chose to do.

But he didn't do anything. His mind went blank with an odd sort of snap, like the crack of bone. It was hard to think of anything past the roaring fog, and he almost tripped on the glass bottle as he found his legs staggering backwards. Again there was a desperate need to run, to get far away from that man, and the dark house, and the memories clawing at his mind.

That was why he had sounded familiar. It was him . The dangerous criminal. The man who…

Héctor should have ignored the cry for help. He should have learned from his mistakes. Numbly he became aware that he still gripping the heavy canvas in his hand, holding it tight as if it might stop his bones from shaking. His chest was too tight, his breath too small as he felt the ghosts of hands creeping over his skin, breath hot on the nape of his neck. He wanted to leave and try to forget. He wanted to get far away. Dark thoughts began to emerge from the fog…

Perhaps… perhaps he should leave.

Some men deserve hell .

Some men deserved to be punished, he told himself, a cold fury overcoming the fear, while something hardened within him. Why should he help him? He didn't know him, and Javier had told him to stay away, had said that he was dangerous. Perhaps this was justice. Maybe there was a good reason for him being there.

It would be so easy to walk away. This man was none of his concern.

Something must have shown on his face because the man flinched suddenly, as if Héctor was about to strike him. It was only then that Héctor noticed him trembling, what was left of the bones straining against the ropes, but he was bound tight. He couldn't move. When Héctor looked to his face, something else replaced the fury building in his chest.

The man… was terrified of him.

He was trapped.

And hurt.

And afraid.

The memory of that night in Mexico City solidified and sharpened, and he thought about lying there bound on the street. He could almost feel the ropes digging into his skin, the dirt beneath his cheek. Alone. Afraid to be touched. Afraid of who might find him.

What was he doing?

He tossed aside the bag and stepped forward, his footsteps creaking in the silence. The man's eyes widened and he tried to jerk away but couldn't move, not an inch.

"Stop… stay back!" he called out. "Don't you fucking come near me!"

"Hey, it's all right." Héctor raised his hands as he knelt beside him, his fingers moving towards the thick knot pressing down on his sternum, even as the ribs jerked as if trying to escape his touch.

"No… no don't… don't do this," he said in a shaking voice, watching Héctor's hands as they moved over his stuttering ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just, God, please…"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Héctor said softly, and realized how badly his own hands were shaking as he found a rope end, fumbling with it in the dim light. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

The man twisted beneath his hands with a sharp breath but he didn't speak again, only turned his head and shut his eyes tight. In the painful silence, and so close to him, Héctor could hear and feel every strained breath, the ribs shuddering at his touch. The fear was palpable.

He could barely get his fingers to work they were so numb, and the ropes were pulled so tight against the bones, tighter than he would have thought possible. One dark rope was even stretched taut against his neck, almost choking him. Why? Who would have done this? The man could barely breathe…

Of course they didn't need to breathe; he knew that. But still… would it hurt? Would it feel like your ribs being crushed? The man sounded in pain. Héctor hunched his shoulders and worked faster to get the rope off, but the stupid knot wasn't coming loose and he was getting more and more anxious. Why was this so hard?

Calm down, he told himself, hating how much his hands were shaking. Just calm down. You can do this.

He tugged on one end of a rope, only making it worse, when a faint sound made him glance up and he saw the man holding his breath and clenching his jaw tight. It was like he was waiting for Héctor to hurt him, as if expecting to be attacked. The idea made something twist near his gut.

"Almost there," Héctor muttered, knowing that wasn't actually true but he had to say something against the pressing silence. This shouldn't be so difficult. He leant forward, trying to get a better angle and about ready to shout at the dumb rope as he pressed against…

"Ahhh!" the man screamed in pain, his body jerking beneath him. "Stop, stop ! Please!"

Héctor jumped back, throwing his hands in the air and nearly toppling backwards. "Sorry! W-what did I…"

Then he looked at where he had been leaning and saw it. One of the man's left ribs was missing, snapped off. Two jagged edges of bone was all that were left, and Héctor realized he must have pressed against one by accident, not having noticed it between the darkness and the twisting ropes. He looked back at the man's pinched face, bracing for the pain to return.

"I didn't mean…" Héctor began, but his voice died away. He hadn't meant to hurt him. He wasn't trying to scare him. But he was. Why did he have to be the one to find him like this? Anyone else would have been better; someone who could actually do this without panicking. But it was too late to turn back. At that moment, he had to focus on getting him out of there. Once again his hand moved toward the rope, when a small intake of breath made him pause.

"Don't…" the man said, so soft that Héctor barely heard, even in the silence. "Not again…"

His breath caught in his throat.

"I'm… I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm almost done, just… hang on."

The man made no reply other than another useless strain against the ropes, sounding like he was struggling not to cry aloud. The noise sounded uncomfortably like Héctor's own had been, a noise that would rise up in his nightmares. His own gasps intermingled with heavy grunts, hunched over, a terrible weight at his back, his own voice strange in his ears, begging for it to be over…

He couldn't think about that. Not then. Not there. Focus. Stay in the present… the present wasn't much better.

What could he do? He didn't want to touch him or scare him and the damn rope wasn't getting any looser. If anything, it was tighter than when he had started. Could he leave and come back with a knife? Except he was also afraid to just leave him there. Afraid to stay, afraid to run… damn it! Okay, focus, what can he do? How…

He glanced over his shoulder and got an idea. He rose up and nearly stumbled from how badly his legs were shaking, and went to pick up the glass bottle he had almost tripped on earlier. It was dark green and grimy, and he turned it in his hands, pouring out the last few dregs onto the old wooden floorboards. This might work. Looking around, he spotted the edge of a another fallen beam. With the neck of the bottle tight in his hand, he swung down.

It broke with an ear-splitting crack that seemed to pierce straight through his soul, but it worked. He held in his hand the neck of it, now with a long sharp edge. Feeling a little better with a real plan in mind, he turned to the man, who instantly winced, and then stiffened when he took a step closer.

"No…" he whispered, pressing back against the wooden beam, his eyes fixated on the broken glass. "Don't do this, I…" His voice trailed off, and then he turned his head, pressing his mouth tight as if to force himself quiet.

Héctor stopped and glanced down to the sharp glass in-hand.

"I uh… okay, I know this looks bad, but that rope isn't coming undone," he said, as he held up a hand. "I just need to use this to cut it, all right? It's um… it's really hard."

Héctor waited, hoping for some hint of permission, any slight acknowledgement of what he'd said, but the man's expression only tightened, his eyes lifting and holding his own. He didn't believe him. But whether he believed him or not, Héctor wasn't going to just leave him there. He carefully moved forward, knelt beside him, and brought the sharp edge against the knot, sawing against the taut rope.

Thanking God and all the saints, the rope came loose with a snap, followed by the man's sudden, shocked intake of breath. Then they both gasped as the torso nearly fell from the beam, with Héctor barely catching it. Quickly he nudged him up a little so the rope at his neck wasn't choking him, and then held him there, the thin ribs twitching grotesquely in his hands.

"Right… sorry," Héctor muttered between huge gasps, annoyed for not seeing that coming, having been so relieved at finally getting over that dumb knot. But there were still multiple loops of rope holding him in place, and some seemed to be almost interwoven with his ribs. Were they? Oh God, they were. Right where his lungs would have been. He'd need to pull them out.

Worse than that was the spine by his fingers, the trail of bones leading to nothing. The sight sickened him more than should have been possible, and he had to turn his face away and breathe for a long moment.

"Hold on," he gasped, still not looking at him. "I'll, uh…"

Christ, he didn't want to be there.

Héctor held the edge of the rib cage up with one hand, while he pulled the strands of rope away with the other, made all the more difficult as the rope caught on the small white bones of his chest. The man didn't speak, just stared up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw, grimacing whenever Héctor had to adjust his hold on him, the ribs twitching with every breath. God, he didn't want to do this.

"Almost got you out… almost…" Héctor's voice was hoarse, the words barely coming out, but the silence was maddening. If the man would just talk a little bit that might help. Well, except if he started pleading again; then that'd make it much worse. Somehow it seemed to be getting worse regardless. With every piece removed the man grew more and more tense, as if waiting for something awful.

Some part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, freeing this man. Maybe this was his due punishment. Perhaps Héctor should untie him and leave him there like that, so he couldn't hurt anyone else. Or , a dark, dark part of him whispered, he could take the grotesque body outside, drop him into the water and let him sink. Maybe he would be doing the world a favor.

But Héctor knew he didn't have the stomach to do that. He had lost all taste for that kind of thing. All he had to do was free him and then he could leave, crossing himself on the way out and hoping he might forget.

Finally he was almost clear of the last ropes, and Héctor went to his throat. The man pushed his head back as Héctor pulled away the rope against his neck, and let out a startled gasp as he did so. One last looped piece had snagged between his shoulder and collarbone, which he had to wiggle out, and then the man was free. Or that part of him, at least.

He just had to… pick his body up. And not drop him. Please don't drop him , he silently prayed.

Carefully, very carefully, he lifted the man's body away, almost afraid the bones would fall apart under his hands. Instead the ribs stiffened as the man held his breath, eyes shut tight, and trembling like a plucked string as Héctor held him, hating all of it. There weren't many options, and so he set him on the ground, careful not to look at the trailing spine.

The man flinched hard once he felt the floor at his back, waiting until after Héctor pulled his hands away before daring to open his eyes, turning his head to look at the dark floorboards as if surprised to be set down instead of dropped. Or maybe he had expected something far worse. It would have been so easy to carry him out to the water and let him sink, and Héctor again pulled back against that terrible thought.

Then the man's dark eyes turned upwards to look at him, wary and angry. His shoulder blades pressed backwards, as if wondering or waiting for him to crush his ribs under his foot, a mental image that Héctor really didn't need to think about, and he quickly moved further back, almost stumbling again on that same broken bottle. He nudged it to the side, unreasonably annoyed at it, before looking around the shack.

Where were his hands? The… the man had mentioned them, so they must be nearby. Hands… damn, he hated skeletons! He shouldn't have to look for someone's hands! Or any other part of him that was strewn about the room, but he had to.

His eyes caught a whiteness in the dark rubble. Were those his arms? Careful of where he stepped, he went over and knelt down, looking at the edge of the bundle of bones. It was hard to tell, but it looked a bit like an elbow. Nausea bubbled up within him, and he reminded himself that skeletons could easily fall apart, that it didn't have to mean anything. They were bones. They could shatter entirely and be put together in less than a minute, this was… it was just bones. It didn't have to hurt.

Not at all thinking about bloody, dismembered arms, he took hold of the white knobs and pulled. But a sudden noise made him look back to see the man gritting his teeth, straining his head back, clearly in pain and just as clearly trying not to make a sound.

Héctor looked again to the small edge of white jutting out from pile. It hadn't pulled away easily. Had that hurt? Quickly he decided on a new plan and began to lift away the wood and crumbled clay bricks covering it. After a minute or so he had unburied them, two arms, and was faintly surprised to find that they had been tied up in a thin white cloth. As soon as the last weight was removed the bound bones shuddered, making Héctor nearly fall back in shock, but managed to hold them down before they jumped away.

"What…" the man asked nervously from where he lay, trying to call them to him. "What are you—?"

"I-I need to untie them," Héctor said in a strangely high voice, hating how the bones squirmed under his hands. "Can you… can you stop that?"

Thankfully, after a moment, they stilled. Although even then he could still feel the tension, the faint tremors. He could barely make out where the fabric ends where in the darkness, before finally finding a double-knot that came undone far easier than the earlier ropes.

"Hang on, just a little more…"

Once freed, he let go, pulling his hands back and watched the bones shudder and rattle lightly against the wooden floorboards. But that was all they did. Drunkenly they rolled only a little towards the man and then stopped, merely twitching there. Why wasn't he calling them back? Héctor looked over at the man, caught the pained, desperate look on his face, and realized… he couldn't.

It felt like he had swallowed a stone, a cold weight settling in his gut. He thought bones always came back, it was just part of the magic. Maybe it faded over time. There was something terribly unsettling about that.

Maybe he only imagined the despairing, almost-sob from the man as Héctor cautiously picked up the arms one by one and carried them over. The bones shivered again in his grasp and he very nearly dropped them, holding them tight to his chest until it stopped, and he let out a breath.

He hated skeletons. God, he hated skeletons.

Lifting one of the arms, he grimaced and held it to one of the empty sockets and felt it pull itself into place with a sharp gasp. As Héctor did the other arm, he saw the man struggle just to move it at all, and noticed the arms only ended at the wrist. He went back to where he had found them, even peering under a fallen piece of wood.

"Where… I, uh, I don't see your hands."

There was silence, and Héctor turned to see the man studying him, still wary and unsure. Finally he moved his head a little with a faint flicker of his eyes.

"The corner," he said.

There came a small sound like the rustling of a mouse, and Héctor told himself to stop jumping at every single thing. He had to calm down, for pity sake.

Nonetheless, he followed the noise and there, buried under more rubbish, he found a small bundle that shuddered like a bird caught in a net. Gently he carried it over, afraid to drop it or hold it too tight, before setting it down beside the man. Inside the tied cloth was a pile of small white bones that unfurled into two hands, and Héctor watched as they shivered, staggered and leapt up, fastening to each wrist with another strong wince from the man.

The slowly growing skeleton lifted them painfully, his arms seeming too heavy, and held them up before his eyes, rotating the wrists and curling the stiff fingers. Héctor was almost surprised when he found himself holding his own wrists, remembering the numbness from being tied up that night, the ugly bruises that he had kept hidden from everyone. The fear of being discovered.

Don't think about that , he reminded himself. He wasn't done yet.

Blinking out of that memory, he noticed the man watching him, his expression hard to read. Héctor pushed back the memories even further, as if the man might be able to see his mind and know. The thought terrified him. He would not be weak. Not here.

He next went to the hanging pelvic bone, focusing on the thin rope woven around it so he didn't have to think about the actual bone, and what it was supposed to be like with skin. Héctor glanced over his shoulder and found the man—or at least the growing half of him—holding a hand to his empty ribs and staring hard, his mouth a hard straight line. Quickly he looked back to the tangle of rope.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's pretty well tied."

There was no reply, and Héctor was relieved when it was finally loosened and fell into his hands. To be safe he carried it over and, grimacing, held it near the bottom of his ribs, carefully looking away. When he glanced again it had pulled into place and the man looked a bit better for it, more like a real person. Although his face was still tight as he tried to shift himself off the floor. Héctor wasn't sure if it was pain or shame that caused the hard look.

He wondered just how long had he been left there, tied up. How long had the man been calling out for help, hoping someone would listen? There was a new chill… had anyone else come by and turned away at the sight of him? Like Héctor had nearly done? If only he wasn't so damn afraid, maybe this wouldn't be so difficult. At least he was almost done. The only remaining bit of white he could see was a leg bone, folded up and strapped tight to a table leg.

It only took a minute, but even so the world seemed to darken a little more every second. The man reached out a hand and took the leg bone when Héctor offered it, and this at least he re-attached with not too much trouble.

Pulling it up at the knee, the man slowly sat up, or tried to. Héctor knelt and put a hand at his back as he struggled, his arms and legs weak. As soon as he was stable Héctor moved away again.

"Thank you," the man said stiffly, without any real gratitude.

At least he was nearly done with him. Just one more leg and he would at least be able to walk. But he couldn't see any more hints of white.

"I uh… I can't see your other leg."

"It's not here," the man said in a low voice, not looking at him. "I think it was thrown in the water. There's something weighing it down, I can't pull it back."

"Oh… then how…?"

"Don't… you don't need to concern yourself." His voice was surprisingly cold, and he curled an arm around his bare pelvis. Héctor quickly turned away.

"Okay, then uh… where are your um… your clothes?"

"I don't know," the man muttered, speaking to the floor. "I don't think they're here."

When Héctor glanced down he seemed to shrink further in on himself, as if he might choke on his own shame. The man must have been stripped when they pulled his bones apart.

Hector had a vivid, unwanted thought of this man being forced to the ground as he fought back, while skeletons surrounded him, laughing as they held him down, tearing off his shirt and ripping his arms from their sockets. Héctor took an involuntary step back at the terrible image, almost hearing the man's screams as skeletons yanked his pants down before they pulled off his legs, one by one. He swore he could hear the cruel laughter.

The man's head turned towards him, almost challenging him to say or do something, and Héctor wished he hadn't just imagined all of that.

Is that what had happened?

The desire to get away rose up stronger, and he forced it back, focusing on just breathing and the tight pain in his ribcage. But he couldn't just leave him there like that.

"I, uh…look, I can—"

"You've done enough," the man said through gritted teeth. "I can handle this. Just go."

The man tried to rise, leaning heavily on the wall on his one leg, looking strangely thin and small in his naked bones, and like he was in great pain. His leg shook violently and a moment later he clattered to the floor with a muffled grunt, one hand flying to his missing rib as he bent over.

"Hey, take it easy—" Héctor reached out to help but the man pulled away, like he couldn't bear the touch of him.

"Stop! Will you just leave me alone!" he said harshly.

"I'm just trying to help—"

"I don't want your damn help!" he shouted, and Héctor was taken aback by the absolute fury.

The man seemed to realize it as well, shock flashing across his face before he lowered his head as if to hide it. Then he went on in a carefully measured tone, "You… you've already helped me. I appreciate it. I do. But I can manage. Please, leave me be. Just… forget this ever happened."

Héctor slowly stood up, raising his hands to show he meant no harm, and wished he didn't feel so ill. The man was still terrified of him, and Héctor wished he hadn't given him so many reasons to be.

"All right," he said softly, feeling like a coward. "All right, I'll go."

Perhaps it was for the best. He desperately didn't want to be there, and the man didn't want him around either. Héctor had freed him. Helped as best he could. That should be enough.

And, despite everything, he also couldn't deny that same fear, the revulsion shuddering through him. He knew little about him; at the moment all he was sure of was that the man was furious at him. What's more, even though he was hurt, that didn't mean he might not be a threat. When Héctor was young he had been told that it was a wounded animal that could be the most dangerous.

But as he got to the door he caught a slight noise and turned to see the man again trying to stand. He was leaning heavily against the wall, fingers scrabbling to grip the soft wood, and struggling to pull his leg under him. It wasn't just the missing leg making it so difficult, it seemed.

Sure enough, just as the man was almost standing his arm wrenched out of the socket with a sickening grind of bone, and the man collapsed again with bit back cry of pain. For several long seconds he lay there on the ground, gasping and clutching at his shoulder, before slowly pushing himself up, head bowed low. There was no way he would be able to walk out of there on his own.

Héctor couldn't leave him like that.

With a shaky breath, hoping his own lingering terror wasn't obvious, Héctor stepped back inside and took off his jacket. He was careful that the long sleeves didn't catch on his shoulder joints as it slid off, but looked up at a sudden noise.

The skeleton had lurched away at the sight of him, curled up against the wall and staring up with wide eyes, trying in vain to shield himself.

"Don't…" he muttered, leaning away, and then his face hardened. "Don't you fucking dare—!"

"I'm not… I'm not going to hurt you."

Héctor felt a chill creep into his marrow as he realized what he had done. If he had been in his place, naked and beaten and a man took off his clothes… he felt something crawl up his throat. Swallowing back the fear, he held out the jacket and tried to ignore how exposed he suddenly felt, his ribs and back open to the cold air.

"Here… you can cover yourself with this."

The man just braced further against the rotten wall, shaking his head.

"You've done enough," he said, angry and terrified and still trying to cover his nakedness with a bony arm. "Please, please just leave me alone. You don't have to... I-I know you hate me. I get it. Just go."

He tensed and pulled his one leg closer as Héctor knelt down, still holding out the jacket, and looked him steadily in the eyes.

"You're not gonna make it very far by yourself."

The man stared back, his empty ribs rising and falling. Terror flickered through his dark eyes.

"You… you don't have to do this."

"I promise, I'm not going to do anything. I just want to help."

With a deep breath he bowed his head forward, curling tight into himself, looking small and pitiful. Héctor could almost see it in the slump of his shoulders, could feel the biting tension in the air. The ropes were gone, but he was still trapped.

Finally, he turned his head upwards with the resigned face of a man headed to a firing squad. With a trembling hand he reached out and took the offered jacket, quietly tying it around his waist. Héctor stood and held out a hand, but it was deliberately ignored as the man pressed himself back against the wall and slowly, painfully tried to pull himself up. He couldn't. Once more he fell hard to the ground, and Héctor moved closer.

"Here, let me—"

But he stopped at the vicious look on his face as he sat there, little more than a heap of bones and almost daring Héctor to say something.

Héctor let his hand drop to his side. "Listen, I can at least help you walk back to your place. Just tell me where to go."

The man just clenched his jaw, staring down.

"Do you… have anywhere you can go?"

"No," he said after a moment.

Héctor looked away, frowning. The plan had been to help him back to wherever he lived, and then probably go buy a whole bottle of something terrible and try to not wake up for a week. That plan was no longer an option.

Where else could they go? Staying there was terrifying, completely out of the question. There was no way he could take him back to Javier's place.

He must have stood there too long, because the man shifted further away, one hand moving to the tied jacket at his waist. "I mean it, you don't need to do this. I can give this back—"

"No, no way," Héctor said, surprised by his own determination. "I'm not going to leave you here like this. No, no, we're getting out of here. I just… give me a minute."

Where could they go? Héctor went over to a window, little more than an open gash in the wall, and glanced out to the dark sky and thin lights from the distant buildings. They were far from anyone, and it would be difficult to walk anywhere in his condition. He needed someplace safe and with someone he could trust, because he knew he couldn't do this on his own.

Unfortunately, only one person came to mind.

"Listen, I-I have somewhere we can go, not far from here. We can stay there for the night. It uh… it'll be fine."

The man only grew more suspicious, glowering at him.

"I'm serious," Héctor said, trying to sound reassuring. "Look, here's what we can do: we'll go to my uh… friend's place. And in the morning we'll come back here and look for your… leg. I guess. And uh… clothes. Then I'll leave you be and we'll never have to talk to each other again. All right? Sound like a plan?"

Héctor wondered if his own grin looked as manic as it felt, for the man only glared harder, sinking his head lower like a challenge.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Well do you want to stay here all night? Because I sure don't." Frankly he didn't want to be anywhere with the man, but that wasn't much of an option either.

The man sighed, letting the seconds pass by.

"Fine," he said eventually, still looking like he trusted Héctor as far as he could jump. The feeling was mutual. "All right. Fine. Let's just…" He stopped suddenly, a strange look on his face, and muttered, "just get it over with." He looked up sharply as Héctor moved closer.

"Ok then… I'll just, uhh…" Héctor held out his hands, edging up to him and not actually doing anything. The whole thing was more awkward than he had expected. The fact they were both half-naked really didn't help. Or that the man was looking at him like he was an idiot. "Just… put your arm… over my shoulder…"

He really didn't want to touch him, but that was going to get them nowhere. And the man really wasn't helping! Taking a deep breath, Héctor looked around the room as if he might find something to help, or just to distract himself. Then there was a noise at his side as the man pulled away from the wall, just a little, and held his arm out, still glaring.

But that was okay! It was at least a good step towards getting out of there. He knelt beside him, stooping as the man put his arm over the back of his neck. Héctor reached around the man's side and touched the thin, rounded bones of his ribs, and stopped. Was he supposed to grab his ribs? His hip? Instead he curled his hand into a fist and tried not to think about it. There was a lot of bone on bone, and Héctor desperately tried not to think about that either, and wished he was wearing a shirt.

He hoisted him up, and after a moment the man managed to stand, more or less, pulling his leg under him with considerable difficulty and wavering so much he had to cling to Héctor's arms and shoulders, before finally steadying. Only then did the man become aware of how close they were. Héctor knew the exact moment he realized it, because he could feel the man's bones tense sharply against his, leaning away as if sensing how much Héctor didn't want to be there either.

"Ready?" Héctor asked.

"No."

"Great, me neither. Let's go."

But it was harder than either expected. The man's leg wasn't working, and even the arm looped over his shoulder seemed to disconnect far too easily. They only just made it a few steps outside when they stumbled, Héctor barely catching them before they fell into the black water on either side.

"Stop, stop!" the man called out, gasping as his leg violently shook, nearly crumbling at the knee, and forced to lean hard against Héctor's side. "I… I can't do this," he said, his voice ragged.

"Okay. Okay, just, uh, just hold on," Héctor said, trying not to panic. "Right, what if we just… what about this?" He stooped a little, taking more of his weight and putting one hand where the man's shoulder met his arm, holding tight where the bones had almost separated before. "This work?"

"I… yes, I think so." He was apparently trying hard to not look at him as he caught his breath. "Are you really sure about this?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

It was awkward, but they managed. As they came to the main pathway, Héctor prayed that no one would find them. They were too exposed out there in the open. But it was truly dark by then, and the place was deserted as far as he could see.

As they turned onto a familiar dark pathway, he paused a moment and tried to think how best to get there. He still didn't know if his plan would work. If not, then what? Héctor bit his lip and glanced over.

"Hey, uh, just a head's up. My friend may, uhhh, possibly be a bit… not too happy to see me."

The man looked at him with something between fury and alarm, and Héctor gave a nervous grin back.

Hopefully this would work.

Author Notes:

Héctor, having a panic attack: Wow, this sure would be a lot easier if we weren't terrified of each other, huh?

This guy: Fuck you.

Héctor, still panicking: Okay, then.

So... next chapter, we'll see where they go.

Comments always appreciated!

In fact, thank you to a recent comment that not only reminded me to update this (whoops) but also reminds that there are readers out there, so keep expecting more here :)