CW: Gore near the end. It starts when the knife shifts, it's mostly over when Gus pukes. You can also just skip to the detective part of the chapter without missing much.
Unrelated squick warning: Vivid puke. Skip the 2 paragraphs after it starts if needed.
Finally, heads up, it's another long chapter at 6700 words.
Dahmer dragged Shawn over to a car lift that was bolted to the ground; a large metal plate resting on the floor between four vertical supports, never to be raised again. He shoved Shawn into one of the supports, eliciting a flinch as Shawn's cut back hit the metal post. Dahmer pointed his gun at Gus as he brought out the handcuff keys. "Hands."
Shawn didn't bother putting up any resistance as he held his hands out. Dahmer unlocked one of the cuffs before ordering, "Lab coat off, Rhianna won't have to worry about your mess for a while."
Shawn broadcasted a few strains of the Hallelujah chorus as he shrugged out of the lab coat and tossed it to the ground. Gus wasn't fooled, he could feel the tinge of worry in his friend's thoughts. He took a few seconds to take in the garage, seeing the rusted equipment lining the walls, the cracked glass panes leaning on each other in a corner, the old tires that were still laying where they'd been dropped. Everything he saw was broken, abandoned, and forgotten by the world.
"Hands back, around the post, cuff back on," Dahmer snapped at Shawn impatiently.
Shawn stretched his arms around the support and Gus heard the ratchet of the cuff closing. Dahmer twirled his finger in the air. "Let me see."
Shawn glared over his gag and leaned into the post as he hopped around it, showing his cuffed hands to the bad guy. Dahmer grinned, clearly enjoying the sight of Shawn's bloody back as he walked up and tightened both cuffs as far as they would go. He patted Shawn's shoulder, right over one of the deepest looking cuts. "Good boy. Stay."
Shawn flinched at the touch and his thoughts edged in frustration with his broadcast: Dahmer chained under the car lift plate, struggling as it lowered down, crushing him into the floor.
Gus barely noticed the imaginary-death as Dahmer stalked towards him and grabbed the belt, giving it a jerk as he ordered, "Up."
Gus climbed back up onto his bare feet, forcing himself to ignore all of the pains from his abused body as he stumbled and tried to avoid the debris on the ground. It was an impossible goal; the floor was covered in rocks, chunks of ceiling, broken pieces of wood, bits of glass, and rusty nails. He stepped on something sharp, and he hoped that Shawn was caught up on his tetanus shots.
Dahmer towed Gus to the support next to Shawn's and turned him around before pulling the belt back. Gus moved with it until his head and neck were pressing into the smooth, cool post.
The strap tightened around his throat and Gus gasped for breath, somehow knowing that Dahmer was trying to find a way to attach the belt to the support. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that being restrained by his neck was the same as being restrained by his hands.
He heard a beaker crack in disappointment before Dahmer sneered at Shawn, "Don't look so jealous, you'll be getting one too."
Gus couldn't stop a small whimper at the thought of Shawn with a belt around his neck, choking and on his knees.
Shawn sent a reassuring reminder: An old man who was not yet dead, two friends together with cut hands, Mr. and Mrs. Smith standing back-to-back.
Dahmer dropped the strap with another disappointed thought and grabbed Gus' hands instead, unlocking a cuff and forcing his arms around the post. Gus took a deep breath to calm his racing emotions; the belts weren't important, they were just bullshit to survive.
Dahmer finished tightening both cuffs and Gus could hear cloth shuffling behind him. He looked back to see what was happening and his heart stuttered when he saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye.
Dahmer addressed Shawn, "If I have to be stuck with you, then you will learn how to behave. You seem to have a hard time remembering… "
A hand suddenly clamped onto Gus' right arm, just below the elbow, pinning it to the side of the support beam. The scalpel cut slightly above his wrist, carving a line of sharp pain across the back of his arm. Gus flinched back and felt the post digging into his shoulders as he breathed through the pain. He heard a clack of a metal on metal and Shawn broadcasted a series of apologetic pings.
"You will be quiet, unless spoken to," Dahmer said calmly as he lifted the scalpel and placed it further up on Gus' arm.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE WRONG!"
Gus jumped at the loud voice from the other room and Dahmer paused, the edge of his knife not quite breaking skin. He let go of Gus and growled, "We're going to have to pick this up later…"
Gus watched as Dahmer stalked through the door on the far side of the garage and he couldn't stop his flinch when the sound of a loud slap sounded out. The quiet after the hit was too quiet, and it took Gus a moment to realize what was wrong. He looked over his shoulder and saw Shawn standing rigidly in place, looking away with his thoughts carefully censored.
Gus glanced at the far doorway before looking back at his friend and letting out a small, sharp sound through his gag.
Shawn shook his head and didn't answer.
Gus frowned and tried to think of a song he could hum that had the word 'bullshit' in it.
Dahmer's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I thought you were supposed to be smart; she spoke so highly of you…"
Dahmer came back through the doorway, dragging an old desk chair behind him. He stopped and spun the chair around, revealing Jack with his arms taped to the arm rests, his torso taped to the backrest, and his legs taped together around the wheel post. The detached part of Gus' brain wondered just how many rolls of duct tape Dahmer went through on a typical day of kidnapping.
Dahmer loomed over Jack as he growled out, "This is your one warning. Be polite or be like them. I'll give you some time to think about it, Rhianna and I are going out for some supplies."
He spun around and went to open the garage door without a second glance at his captives. No one moved as he pulled the car out and closed the garage again. Gus heard the sound of a door opening and closing in the other room before the car sounds grew quieter as it drove away.
Gus sighed in relief once he couldn't feel the voids pulling anymore. He gave a small nod to Jack before craning his neck around to look at Shawn, his eyes skimming over the bloody shirt and the cuts beneath it. He ignored the raw, piercing pain in his throat as he hummed quietly: Turn around, bright eyes.
Shawn shook his head again, his thoughts still quiet as he sent a small visual: A don't walk sign.
Gus ground his teeth together as he remembered Dahmer telling Shawn to stay. It was wrong watching Shawn follow an order when the bad guy wasn't even around. He hummed again: We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind.
Shawn snorted and Gus clicked at him; that wasn't what he meant, and Shawn knew it. He meant that it was safe, at least for a little while.
Shawn sighed: A radar, a fire alarm, a don't walk sign.
Gus made an affirmative noise; he'd keep an ear out and let Shawn know when Dahmer was coming back. He hummed a few lines of the theme to Two and a Half Men.
Shawn snorted and leaned back with a wince, hopping slightly so he could rotate around the post and face Gus as he broadcasted two visuals of Dahmer and Charlie Sheen.
Gus made a sound of agreement, though he did feel like they were being slightly unfair to the actor. He was a dick, but not that much of a dick.
Shawn finished moving, but still wouldn't meet Gus' eyes.
"Huh, you two really can communicate without speaking."
Gus looked over and nodded, watching the scientist carefully for his reaction.
Jack gave him a small smile. "Any other time and I'd probably be asking you a hundred questions. I'm guessing you're a bit tired of that though…"
Gus sighed and nodded again, wincing slightly as the belt rubbed against a particularly sore spot on his neck. He suddenly narrowed his eyes and looked at Jack's restraints. Duct tape wasn't foolproof.
He looked back at Shawn, the escape expert out of the two of them: Do you like Pina coladas.
Shawn's eyes snapped up and he looked at Gus like he'd hit his head one too many times. Which Gus figured wasn't entirely unfair, all things considered.
Gus clarified: Say my name, say my name.
He waited for Shawn to remember the actual name of the pina colada song. Shawn's eyebrows tightened when he understood the message and he looked at Jack, his thoughts cresting. He eventually sighed and looked back at the ground, shaking his head.
Gus waited for a few seconds before making a sharp sound to prompt Shawn to explain.
Shawn's answer had a hint of hopelessness weaved through it: A clock, a Spanish to English dictionary, a phone X-ed out, a car X-ed out, a clock again, the scalpel. A safety vest, a police car's lights.
An apology.
Gus understood Shawn's reasoning; they probably didn't have time to find a way to explain the plan to Jack, have him actually execute it, and have him somehow get help without a car or phone. Most likely they'd just be punished even more. It was still safer to wait for the cops.
But he didn't think that was what Shawn was apologizing for. Gus made a questioning sound.
Shawn shifted slightly and seemed to make himself smaller as he answered with an image of the new cut on Gus' arm.
Gus tried to make a nonchalant sound, feeling the blood trickling down his wrist. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said Shawn had saved his life in the lab. If he had to pay for it with a cut or two, then at least it wasn't Shawn bleeding more.
Shawn's shoulders tightened. He continued to look down as he shook his head: The cowardly lion.
Gus blinked in surprise. Shawn had been the brave one through all of this; he hadn't been the one freaking out over every little thing. Gus closed his eyes and tried to think, it was a lot harder coming up with the right songs this time around: You are beautiful, no matter what they say.
Gus waited, his worry growing when Shawn didn't even huff a laugh at the song. Shawn thought for a long moment before finally answering with a broadcast coated in guilt: A copilot calling out to Tom Cruise, "Hey man, we could have had him."
Gus remembered Shawn telling him to stay down, to not fight, and he sighed as he understood the broken logic. It figured that Shawn would finally have his freak out and, one, it was quiet and, two, Gus was gagged and couldn't properly reassure him.
And wasn't that just a great analogy for the whole fucked up situation.
Gus tried to think of a way to tell Shawn that it had been the right call, fighting Dahmer was too risky with all of their injuries, and anything that was going to happen afterwards wasn't his fault: I fought the law and the law won. Stayin alive, ah ah ah, stayin alive. Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do.
He wrinkled his nose at the last one and the possible double meaning, but they had both heard Lassiter's phone go off enough times that he was pretty sure Shawn would make the right connection first.
Shawn looked up and shook his head stubbornly: The bleeding cut on Gus' arm, "We're going to have to pick this up later." Sitting on the MRI table and yelling, not staying down, snapping back again, taking off the gag, trying to sneak out of the trunk…
Gus shook his head back, ignoring the stinging on his neck as he made a sharp sound to cut off Shawn's list of everything Dahmer could punish him for: I will survive.
Shawn swallowed heavily as he sent a memory: Sitting in the car after several bad flashbacks, "My fault, you shouldn't have to pay for it."
Gus groaned in frustration and hummed the Two and a Half Men theme again. Shawn wasn't the one holding the knife, he shouldn't have to carry the guilt for it.
Shawn looked away and didn't answer.
Gus sighed and hummed the only other thing he could think of: I'd catch a grenade for ya, throw my hand on a blade for ya.
Shawn's thoughts came bouncing back with an almost frantic desperation as he looked back at Gus and shook his head helplessly.
Gus shrugged and tried to make a reassuring sound; it wasn't like they had a choice in the matter and Shawn would do the same for him.
Shawn sighed and broadcasted the feeling of a strong hug with a message: Adam Sandler in a backwards cap, "I'm stupid. You're smart. I was wrong. You were right. You're the best. I'm the worst."
Gus made a noise of disagreement, but Shawn made a louder noise of greeting over him as he looked towards Jack. Gus huffed at the redirect, but he turned to acknowledge their forgotten fellow captive.
"Hi to you too," Jack answered with a small smile, "Sorry, I never caught your name. I take it this isn't your guys' first time being left alone and not able to talk..."
Shawn made a series of nonchalant sounds and Gus rolled his eyes.
Jack's small smirk fell as he looked them over, "How long has he had you two?"
Gus sighed; it felt like a lifetime, which made the answer almost anti-climatic. He limped around his post until his hands were facing Jack and he held up two fingers before bending one of them halfway down.
"Only a day and a half?!" Jack gasped as Gus turned back around. He looked them over again in shock. "That's a helluva thirty-six hours…"
Shawn let out a weak chuckle: A lion with a scar, "You have no idea."
"And they really have no clue that you're not actually psychic," Jack stated in awe as he looked at Shawn.
Gus tensed and he heard Shawn's thoughts stutter. This was bad. This was very very bad.
Jack shook his head frantically when he saw their reactions. "No, it's ok, I didn't tell. I only suspected, but I didn't actually know until I saw you two talking and only Gus was…" He paused as he realized his words weren't having the effect he was hoping for. "Sorry. I know you have every reason not to trust me. I shouldn't have… I won't tell. I know it's what's keeping you alive."
Shawn pinged a question and Gus focused on the writing pen before nodding in reassurance; Jack was telling the truth.
Shawn huffed: A man in a prison uniform, "Every man has his breaking point."
Gus shrugged, hoping they'd be rescued before that happened.
"I'm, uh, also sorry about Rhi… About Rhianna," Jack said. "She has more skin in the game than most, but I never thought she'd ever be capable of something like this."
Gus snorted, not wanting to hear any more justifications for Rhianna being a bitch. He hummed the first few bars of Crazy Train. Shawn hummed the 'Aye aye aye' response and Gus looked over, crinkling his eyes in amusement. Shawn pinged a mental smirk edged in exhaustion.
Jack shook his head. "I've known her since she graduated, she's not crazy."
Gus raised an eyebrow and intoned 'Helloooo, psychic. ' as well as he could behind the gag. He wished his hands weren't cuffed behind him; Shawn was right, it was weird saying it without the hand gesture.
Shawn snorted as Jack looked at him in confusion.
Gus glared at his friend and intoned a muffled 'Come on son.'
Shawn looked back, his thoughts slowly calming as he continued the script, 'No, you come on son.'
Gus clicked at him and Shawn clicked back before chuckling slightly. The sound was music to Gus' soul.
"So… I take it you guys knew each other before this?" Jack asked as he watched their exchange.
Shawn hummed a few bars of Rock-a-bye baby and Gus jerked his head towards him in agreement.
Jack's hands twitched awkwardly. "Uh… So, you're friends? Or…?"
Shawn barked a laugh as Gus leaned his head back and groaned in frustration. Shawn hummed a cheeky reply: I kissed a girl and I liked it.
Gus' handcuff chain clinked against the metal post as he tried to reflexively throw his hands up into the air in exasperation.
Shawn pinged his amusement and sent a visual: A man on a mountain in a cowboy hat, "I wish I knew how to quit you."
Gus glared at Jack for starting the whole thing.
Jack's lips twitched and he said, "So, friends."
Gus nodded and hummed: When you're the best of friends.
Shawn's thoughts flared blue as he broadcasted the feeling of brotherly love.
The emotion was almost overwhelming, and it took a moment for Gus to be able to school his face into a normal expression before looking back at Shawn and intoning his usual, 'I know.'
He maintained eye contact as he dropped the facade and hoped Shawn could see that the feeling was mutual.
Shawn gave him a small nod of understanding.
"You two don't deserve this…" Jack sighed before frowning and correcting himself, "Sorry, that sounded... No one deserves this. Just, you two seem really decent."
An animated warthog, "Look at him, he's so cute and all alone. Can we keep him?"
Gus snorted quietly and nodded to Jack with a small sound of thanks.
He felt a sudden change in Shawn's thoughts as they all started to bounce together in determination. He turned in concern and saw Shawn staring intently at the floor, his eyes scanning each piece of debris as he broadcasted an idea: a pair of tweezers, handcuffs, a rusty nail.
Gus made a negative sound; a nail wouldn't work to pick the handcuff locks.
Shawn rolled his eyes: A rusty nail, a small strip of metal, a piece of wire, a-
Shawn's eyes lit up: a broken bottle top with thin wire wrapped around it.
Gus scanned the ground and found the glass bottle that Shawn was looking at; the wire looked just right for the job. And Shawn could probably reach it if he sat down and stretched out.
"What are you guys looking at?"
Gus ignored Jack as he asked Shawn: Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do.
Shawn hesitated, his thoughts flaring in worry before sending a small memory: Henry pulled off his reading glasses, "Shawn, plans will only get you so far. You have to always be on the lookout for potential backup plans. That way, when things go sideways, you're not left hanging in the wind."
Gus let out a nervous breath and nodded; he really hoped the cops would get there soon. One of them would definitely get shot again if they had to take things into their own hands.
Shawn shuffled so he was facing the front of the garage and the bottle before pausing and pinging one last nervous question along with a visual of the scalpel.
Gus nodded, feeling the strap rub his stinging neck; he knew the risk if they were caught. But Shawn was right, they needed a backup plan in case Dahmer decided his girlfriend only needed one living psychic.
He had a sudden thought and hummed: Anything you can do, I can do better.
Shawn looked at him in confusion and Gus nodded at the wire as he rattled his handcuff chain; they both knew he was the better lockpick out of the two of them.
Shawn sighed and his eyes seemed to darken as he gently reminded: Dahmer with a snarl on his face, "We're going to have to pick this up later."
Gus swallowed and nodded; he should have already thought of that. At least Dahmer cutting him up would be a good distraction for Shawn to work on his cuffs.
Shawn leaned into the post and started to slide down, his jaw visibly clenching in pain as he slid his broken leg forward and his back rubbed against the support. He sat all the way down and scooted as far forward as his arms would let him go before stretching out his good leg.
Gus kept a nervous ear out, both mental and physical, as he watched Shawn's toes curl around one of the broken edges of the bottle. He wasn't sure how effective of a lookout he'd be with the walls surrounding them -and with Shawn's almost bat-like hearing- but he was going to try his best.
Glass scraped on the ground as Shawn slowly pulled the bottle towards him, grunting quietly in pain as he scooted his body back to the post. Gus tasted pancakes glowing in hope and fear and heard balls bouncing in determination as Shawn reached the support and took a second to catch his breath.
Gus suddenly felt something at the very edge of his psychic sense, he barked a sharp warning at Shawn as the feeling solidified into the pull of twin voids.
Shawn froze, still sitting on the floor, the bottle laying right next to him in plain sight. Gus let out another frantic sound and Shawn startled into motion, bringing his good leg under his body and pushing himself back up to standing with a strangled yelp.
Gus heard the car pulling up to the garage as Shawn shuffled around the post, dragging the bottle along with his bad leg as he put himself back in the position Dahmer had left him in. The garage door began to open right as Shawn stopped moving, the bottle slightly hidden between his feet and the post. Gus saw extra blood on the support, extra blood drops on the floor where Shawn's foot had been cut, and extra sweat on his friend's face as he tried to catch his breath. He hoped Dahmer wouldn't notice any of it as he pulled the car in and closed the garage.
Gus glanced over and Jack gave him a small reassuring nod as Dahmer walked over to them with a new cloth bag in his hand. He stopped in front of Gus and looked his three captives over. "Nice to see you're all right where I left you."
He lifted his bag with a grin and let it fall open as he dug through it. "I always knew having a few supply lockers around would come in handy someday…"
Gus felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him when he saw a small metal box sitting innocently at the bottom of the bag. Dahmer's grin grew as he noticed the reaction, and he pulled out a water bottle before placing the bag on the floor.
He reached into his pocket and Gus tried to calm his racing heart; it was Shawn's turn to freak out, not his. Dahmer pulled out the bottle of antibiotics and Gus' surprise was enough to knock him out of his quickly spiraling thoughts of fire and screams.
"When you die, it will be by my hand. Not some disease," Dahmer growled with a possessive edge as he peeled away the edge of Gus' gag and pressed a pill into his mouth. Gus waited for the water before swallowing the medicine, but it still scraped down his swollen throat. The bottle was taken from his lips far too quickly and Dahmer smoothed the gag back on as he sneered, "I wouldn't expect food anytime soon."
He shoved Gus' head down as he walked to Shawn, his beakers cracking with glee. He ran his hand through Shawn's hair as he murmured, "It's good to see that you're able to follow orders, but we still need to finish that conversation from earlier…" He clenched his hand in the hair and pulled Shawn's head back, stage whispering in his ear, "I had a wonderful idea in the car. If you don't learn this time, then you really are hopeless."
Shawn's thoughts greyed out with guilt and fear, and Gus glared with unrestrained hate at Dahmer. No one should ever make Shawn feel that afraid.
Dahmer gave Shawn his pill and seemed to relish putting the gag back on, running his hand over the duct tape several times before pulling back to slap Shawn's bruised cheek. He turned without another thought and walked briskly to Jack, picking up his bag on the way.
"So, Jacky. Are you going to behave, or do I need to set you up out here properly?"
Jack looked over and Gus met his eyes, nodding in understanding. There wasn't any point in Jack getting hurt if he could get out of it. Jack sighed and answered quietly, "I'll behave."
Dahmer grinned and patted his cheek lightly. "Good. Hopefully this time you'll remember better."
Jack flinched at the touch, but he kept his face neutral as he stayed quiet. Gus tried to reassure himself that Jack had been completely honest when he said he wasn't going to tell the bad guys anything. He really didn't like having to trust anyone other than Shawn, but he didn't have a choice.
Dahmer walked behind Jack and grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and him into the other room.
Gus closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths as the belt seemed to tighten all on its own. Dahmer was going to come back and hurt him, Dahmer had needles again, Dahmer could do anything he wanted…
He couldn't freak out.
He heard his handcuff chain rattle slightly as his hands shook, he felt a drop of blood running down his knuckles, he heard gray thoughts bouncing next to him, he felt one of the voids glowing in excitement. He wondered if fear actually had a smell, or if he was just projecting it onto the musty, mildewy stank of the building around them.
Dahmer came back into the garage, his hands full, and the image didn't do anything to calm Gus' nerves. The bad guy was holding an old folding chair, the other belt, and a roll of duct tape. And he was grinning ear to ear.
"I've heard that the best lessons are the ones that you only have to say once," Dahmer informed them conversationally as he walked behind Gus. There was a metal squeak and the sound of a chair being set firmly on the ground. "Considering I've had to repeat myself several times now, I can only assume it's a defect on your part and not mine. Let's make sure it sticks this time."
Shawn's terror grew louder and Gus tried to brace his shield against it; he was scared enough without the extra emotions bleeding in. He focused on counting to five as he took a deep breath in and let it out. He was less hurt out of the two of them, it wasn't anything they hadn't already had to deal with, he could take it. They just had to survive a little longer.
He questioned his resolve when he heard a belt buckle moving and he suddenly had another strap around his neck, this one pulling around the post and forcing his head back into the metal. The buckle clinked as the belt tightened further before the sound of duct tape sounded out several times. Gus realized the belt had been fastened around the support and taped in place.
"If you're good, I'll take it off after we're done," Dahmer murmured in his ear as he petted Gus' head. Gus closed his eyes; he knew he'd have to put up with the touch either way, but being literally stuck there and unable to move away was a whole new level of frustrated helplessness. Dahmer gleefully kept up the motion, as though he could feel Gus' skin crawl under his hand. He snapped out, "Congenital. Turn around. This is for you, so you'd better watch."
Gus heard more movement and he forced his eyes open, glancing over to try and communicate with his gaze alone that this wasn't Shawn's fault. Shawn met his eyes for only a second, his face terrifyingly blank, before he looked over to watch as Dahmer moved behind Gus again.
Gus heard the duct tape pull and his arm was pinned against the side of the support, the tape wrapping around his elbow and the post several times. Another strip went around his wrist and he tried to curb his panic as he realized he couldn't move his arm at all, not even to twist it away as Dahmer poked at his open cut.
There was a harsh squeal of metal chair legs scooting on the floor before a sharp edge was placed on his skin, just below the elbow. Dahmer spoke calmly, "Now, where were we…"
Gus squeezed his eyes closed again as the knife sliced across his arm. He focused on his breathing and on not reacting to the pain, hoping that would make it slightly easier for Shawn to watch. He could at least have his back that way.
The scalpel lifted, "You have only one job, do what you're told."
The knife returned, resting lightly on the end of the previous cut before digging in and traveling slowly down his arm. Gus couldn't stop his flinch as the sharp pain continued to grow, but he kept his jaw clenched and stayed quiet.
The line of fire had almost reached the cut above his wrist when Shawn let out a small, pleading noise. Dahmer sighed and stopped cutting, holding the blade in place as he asked, "Have you already forgotten the first… Oh."
The sheer pleasure in Dahmer's voice had Gus snapping his eyes open to glance over at his friend. What he saw took his breath away faster than a punch to the gut.
Shawn was on his knees. His face was tight in pain as he looked up at Dahmer, his expression open and vulnerable while he silently begged. His eyes stayed locked in place as he bowed his head, his whole body shaking. As Gus watched, Shawn's gaze dropped to the floor, the perfect image of submission.
Gus felt tears prickling in his eyes. He knew this was Shawn's way of watching his back, and that fact made everything so much worse.
"This is good…" Dahmer murmured quietly. "Isn't it good to know your place?"
Shawn nodded, not waiting for any extra prompts, and Gus tried to find anything else to focus on besides the ponging sounds of desperation and shame. Shawn deserved any and all considerations Gus could give him; he wouldn't chance even accidentally reading his friend's thoughts.
"Being good does make things better," Dahmer spoke like he was explaining a simple concept to a young child, "but actions still need consequences. If you stay there, I'll bandage it afterwards."
Shawn clenched his jaw, but nodded his head again, a small jerky motion. Dahmer resumed his work with the scalpel as he warned, "Remember, I told you to watch."
Hate rolled off of Shawn in waves as he looked up without moving his head. He hesitated before his eyes traveled over to Gus', seemingly against his will. Gus gave him a tight nod; he understood, and he'd be ok.
Dahmer finished the long cut connecting the two previous slices but didn't lift the knife. He spoke in a darker tone. "When you do speak, you will show the proper respect."
Gus tried to brace himself. It was just cuts. He could handle it.
The knife shifted, and instead of cutting into the skin, it cut under it.
Gus jolted, pressing his head further into the post as he tried to stifle a yell of pain as fire erupted under the scalpel. His nerves screamed as the knife moved in a controlled sweep and, for the first time since being kidnapped, he was grateful for the gag that was helping him stay quiet for Shawn. The knife moved back along the slice and he yelped as the pain grew. He tried to wrench his arm away, forgetting about the duct tape holding it in place. His shoulder pulled with a sharp twinge of pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the scalpel sweeping under his skin again, the agony growing as it cut even further.
He stopped trying to fight the screams.
It sliced and burned and flared and seared; like the formula, but all of the fire was centered on one spot. And that spot was growing.
The knife continued its course, the torture climbing up his arm, and nothing else mattered except escaping the pain. He scrambled, trying to throw his whole body forward to break the restraints, but something caught around his throat and his screams were strangled off as he lost the ability to breathe. He became re-aware of the collar holding him still and he forced his neck back into the post as he gasped for air. The scalpel cut again, and another screech tore through his throat. His knees buckled and he could feel unconsciousness edging towards him. He fought against it, knowing he needed to stay standing in order to stay breathing.
God, it hurt.
Colors and sensations washed through his mind, and he tried to focus on them. Focusing on the real world helped with psychic things, maybe it could work the other way too. He was willing to try anything.
He was walking down the boardwalk, sun warm on his back, smoothies in his hands. He watched the people around him, reading their stories as if they were open books.
He was shaking, his body was covered in sweat, his voice was breaking more than it was working. The knife kept cutting.
He paused and checked his counts: 27 people, 3 dogs, one purse Chihuahua that totally didn't count as a dog anymore, 8 kids, 13 hats -who wore a cowboy hat to the beach?-, 5 families of tourists, 3 food carts. Maybe he should get some hotdogs too…
The knife was almost back to his elbow. He knew the next logical step. He didn't want to think about it. His voice wasn't working anymore.
He grinned as he saw the Psych office. His best friend had just, impossibly, become even more awesome, and there were now so many more ways to tease him. He let himself in, calling out, "Honey, I'm home!"
The knife reached his other cut. He could feel his skin pulling and folding in a way it was never meant to. It hurt, it burned, it was on fire. The world was growing dark, and he couldn't tell if his eyes were seeing right anymore. He couldn't tell if his legs were still standing right. Or if gravity was pulling right. Or if he was thinking right...
There was a pop and fumes filled his nose with the acrid smell of ammonia. He jolted back, the world refocusing with a snap as he coughed and tried to clear his nasal passageways of that god awful stench. The pain slammed back into him and he tried to whimper, all that came out was a strained breath.
"Almost done…" A voice said gleefully as the void pulled in satisfaction. Static sounded in the background, an almost soothing sound as it resonated with his own detached panic.
Gus didn't know how to brace himself anymore. He just needed it to be over with. Parts of his arm were already going numb, while the edges of the wound seared blindingly hot. Just one more cut and it should be done, what was he waiting-
Dahmer sliced the knife quickly down the arm, completing the rectangle of pain as Gus squeaked out a barely audible yelp. Something was peeled away, and Gus knew it was probably just a figment of his imagination, but he swore he could feel a breeze on his muscles as they were exposed to the air.
"As I've said before," Dahmer giggled darkly, "I don't like repeating myself. Make sure I don't have to."
Something pulled at Gus' neck and he could suddenly move his head again. He tried to lean away from the pain as he vaguely wondered if he had earned the partial freedom because of the screaming or despite it.
Dahmer's voice rang out in front of him. "Open your eyes."
He followed the order immediately and saw Dahmer grinning while holding up a smooth, dripping, brown strip of cloth. Gus couldn't control his reaction when he realized what he was looking at.
He puked. Into his gag.
Vile chunks filled his mouth and clogged his throat, and his stomach still tried to send more as he reflexively tried to take a breath. He couldn't breathe and everything hurt and it was going to kill him and he was going to die with puke up his nose and nothing else mattered because he just needed to breathe.
The gag was torn off and Gus leaned over with unimaginable relief as he hacked out the vomit that was filling his airways. He gasped for breath and coughed, gagging and retching as another wave of bile hit the floor and splattered over his feet. He breathed heavily and his chest rattled as he bowed his head, his body slumping further forward.
His handcuffs caught on the post and he realized his arm was free, the ring of fire around his wound flaring whenever he moved it. He straightened slightly to relieve the pressure from his arms and decided to try to not move it.
A hand ran over his head, and he flinched back, suddenly certain that the scalpel was about to start cutting again and he just really really needed it to be over now.
Dahmer spoke up, sounding amused. "You don't get to die yet. A deal's a deal, I'll be right back."
Dahmer walked away and Gus felt a rush of gratitude for being given a minute to recuperate without having to worry about hands or knives. He thought about what Dahmer had said and it took his addled brain a few extra seconds to remember he wasn't alone in this fucked up situation.
He looked over and saw that Shawn was still kneeling with his head down, his whole demeanor radiating defeat. Gus knew he should say something now that he could. His arm burned and he looked away.
They both sat in silence and waited for Dahmer to return.
"There it is," Lassiter said, turning off his headlights and pulling into a parking lot next to a brick building with broken windows.
"There's lights," Juliet pointed out, hope almost overwhelming her as they quietly exited the car. A squad car pulled in behind them and Lassiter quickly issued orders before they jogged up to the front door of the building.
Officers were taking their places behind the detectives and Henry when a muffled scream burst out from the garage.
Lassiter immediately kicked in the door and they rushed inside.
A/N: I'm going to be out of town next week. I hate leaving this on a cliffhanger for 2 weeks, so I'm going to try to upload the next chapter in a couple of days.