Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

I am reposting this story from two days ago since it apparently disappeared. Sorry guys, but I hope it works this time.

Thomas groaned and pulled experimentally at the ropes securing his wrists and ankles to the rickety wooden chair. He had lost all sense of time since he had been taken from the coffee shop, but if he had to guess, he would say it'd been at least a full day, a full twenty-four hours since he'd last seen daylight - or any light for that matter. More than anything else - more than the interrogation and the pain and the forced starvation and raging thirst - being stuck in that dark room was what really bothered Magnum. Every few minutes, it felt like, he had to remind himself that he was on Oahu, not in the desert. They had really escaped, and it wasn't all just some sick dream or hallucination.

The more time that passed, the harder it was getting to separate his memories from reality.

Magnum picked his head up when he heard the door slide open, muscles tensing in preparation for what he was sure would be another rousing session of fun and games. His bruised ribs and face pulsed in time with his heartbeat, an aching reminder of what Aeola and his men were capable of. He'd had worse, sure, but each session had gotten progressively more intense, their methods more creative. Already, Thomas was dreading what they had in store for him this time.

"Well, Mr. Magnum," Aeola said from somewhere off to Magnum's right. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Magnum held his tongue, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths, in and out, until his heartbeat slowed into a regular, steady rhythm.

"Where is the flash drive, Mr. Magnum?" Aeola's voice came from the other side, this time. Thomas had to fight to keep from flinching.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," he said. That was a lie; Magnum knew exactly what Aeola wanted. He also knew that HPD was currently combing over every file the drive contained. Thomas had met Katsumoto at the coffee shop for the handoff, just before Aeola grabbed him. "I keep telling you, you have the wrong guy."

"Right," Aeola hummed. "Maybe you'll be more cooperative the next time we speak."

Magnum doubted that very much. But as Aeola retreated from the room and the door slammed closed again, he couldn't help the trickle of dread that worked its way up his spine. Aeola's men were still in there with him, Thomas knew, and there was no way to predict when or how they would pounce.

For the longest time, nothing happened, no one spoke or moved. It was an unnerving several minutes for Magnum as he tried to maintain his calm, even breathing and not freak out. The first blow came from the left, the man striking Magnum with a heavy fist right on the side of his already bruised jaw. Magnum's head snapped back, and he didn't even have time to straighten up before the next blow landed on his stomach. For a fleeting moment, he was glad he hadn't eaten anything in so long; throwing up right now would have been absolutely miserable.

When the next blow didn't come, Magnum took advantage of the moment to catch his breath. There was no way they were tired already, and he was now panting heavily, sweat dripping down his battered face. His breaths were so loud in the darkened room that he almost missed the distinct snap of leather right next to his ear.

Thomas had just enough time to think 'oh, shit,' before the first stroke of the whip came down.

The pain was excruciating, the whip lighting a fire along the skin and muscle of his tortured right calf. The scream that tore from his lips was primal and uncontrolled, as surprising to Thomas as it was to the men who caused it. Magnum could hear his tormentors laughing where they hid in the shadows. When the whip came down again, this time on the other leg, it was less surprising, but no less painful. It didn't elicit the same caliber of scream that the initial stroke did, which must have disappointed his tormentors because the blows came harder and faster after that. Magnum lost track of it all, drifting into the in-between space, not conscious, but not unconscious either, consumed by the darkness and the memories of a past life.

The sound of gunfire broke Magnum out of his half-awake trance. He wasn't sure when it had started or where it was coming from, but it was unmistakable. Around him, people were yelling, doors were slamming, and Thomas's jumbled mind struggled to follow it all, seemingly skipping over minutes at a time. One moment, he was sitting in the middle of a full-blown firefight, the next, everything was silent and still.

"Tommy?"

The hand on his shoulder burned like acid, and Magnum flinched violently away from it. His skin felt raw, tingling like a low current was running through it, or like someone had scrubbed it too viciously with steel wool. A high-pitched keening sound echoed around him, and only after he broke into a painful fit of coughs did Thomas realize the source was his own vocal chords.

"Okay, Tommy, I won't touch. I promise."

Magnum calmed as soon as he felt the hands disappear. As his mind cleared, he became aware of the fact that he was now lying down. He wasn't quite comfortable, the surface at his back hard and unforgiving, but some of the tension had eased from his sore muscles and his limbs were free to move. Except trying to move anything at all sent spikes of agony through his entire body.

"Stay still, TM. The EMTs are on their way."

Thomas managed to turn his head, just slightly, in the direction of the voices.

"R'ck?" he groaned, his voice little more than a whimper. "TC?"

"Right here, buddy," Rick said. "We're right here."

Magnum forced his uncooperative eyelids open, blurry vision fighting against his now-illuminated surroundings. The two figures by his side were only hazy, indistinct shapes, but Thomas would recognize his two brothers-in-arms anywhere. The rest of the tension faded as he embraced the safety his friends' presence afforded him.

"Safe?" he asked, still searching for clarity.

The blurry figure on the right nodded. "That's right, Tommy," Rick said. "You're safe. We've got you, brother."

"The EMTs are here." Another cloudy shape approached from the doorway. "How's he doing?" it asked in a vague, British accent.

"He's holding his own," TC said. "Isn't that right, TM?"

Magnum hummed, unconcerned about following the conversation now that he knew he was safe. He let himself drift again, into the vague land of semi-consciousness. Thomas could hear his friends talking around him but lacked all energy to focus on the words. He was aware, sort of, of the arrival of the EMTs and the subsequent poking and prodding. He felt himself being moved, and from somewhere nearby, could hear his friends moving with him.

"You're going to be okay, Tommy," Rick said, his voice low and distant, but there all the same. "Just get some rest."

Thomas allowed his lips to curl up slightly at the corners. He supposed he could do that. For his brothers, he would do anything.

A/N: And the month is complete! Thank you all for following me on this journey, following, favoriting and reviewing. You're all awesome. Seriously.