Author's note: This is the darkest of the chapters - more of the violence and assault actually on-screen, although it's still not super graphically detailed. We're a few days into captivity and our team of heroes is starting to crumble a bit. This chapter was sort of inspired by the idea of "what might break Full Metal?"

Let me know what you think! I really enjoyed the differences in personality in this one, so I hope you guys do as well.

Chapter 5: The Breaking Point

In the dim light of their cell, Brock and Metal waited.

It had been at least a few days, though they couldn't be sure exactly how many. Days had turned into nights, and they had lost all sense of time without any line of sight to the outside world.

They had come for Feiyaz a while ago, taking her to what would be her fourth session with Zaman and his men. They'd all now gone four rounds with their hosts, and some were holding up better than others.

Metal was mostly unphased by the violence. He'd seen so much of it in his lifetime, experienced so much physical pain, that it was really just another day at the office. He let their words bounce off of him as easily as their fists did, and they seemed to be realizing he simply couldn't be broken with pain. That was good for him, but potentially meant they'd focus their efforts on the other two. Metal needed to keep that in mind, he didn't want them suffering more on his account.

Brock was hanging in there, though maybe not quite as stoically as Metal. The younger man was still fairly early on in his SEAL career, and this was the toughest spot he'd ever been in by a mile. He kept thoughts of his friends and family at the forefront of his mind, knowing that if he could just pull through, he'd be home with Cerberus and his team in no time. It was all a mental game, he could do that.

The door swung open, and Feiyaz was tossed into the room unceremoniously. She landed on her knees on the floor and fell forward, barely catching herself with her hands out in front of her.

As the door closed with a bang, the first thing the guys noticed was her lack of clothing. They exchanged a glance, watching as she sat there unmoving with her head hung low.

"Seven?" Brock asked hesitantly after a few minutes. "You with us?"

She didn't respond, instead carefully lowering herself to the ground and curling up faced away from them. Brock sighed, tears coming to his eyes that he refused to let fall. Tears wouldn't help her, she didn't need his pity right now. He looked over at Metal, unsurprised that even he looked emotional at the state of their teammate.

They sat in silence again, minutes ticking by as Feiyaz tried to compose herself. It was all she could do to push down the panic attack threatening to explode out of her. This was everything she had expected to happen when she first woke up in captivity, but that didn't make it any easier to endure. As her emotions faded and turned to a level of numbness, she rolled over a little to stare at the ceiling. She barely had enough thought to attempt to conserve her modesty the best should, though it was likely futile at this point.

The single light bulb flickered above her as she watched it.

"I don't think I can do this, guys."

She said it quietly, a defeat in her scratchy voice. Redness wrapped around her throat and it would likely bruise quite spectacularly in the hours to come.

"I know it's hard, Seven," Brock replied, trying to keep his tone positive and light. "You're doing great. You just have to tough it out a little longer. I promise we're almost there."

Feiyaz shook her head sadly, closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath. "I can't. I can't do it anymore."

"Think of everything you have back home, you're gonna get back there-"

"I have nothing back home," she snapped sadly, finally putting a dent in Brock's mantra of holding on to whatever was dear to her. "My parents are dead, our family abandoned us when we left here. All I have back home is an empty apartment I haven't been to in almost a year."

Brock sat in stunned silence at the admission, his positivity faltering in light of the new information. Clearly his methods of coping weren't going to help her. He turned to Metal, desperate for some backup from the seasoned veteran.

"Then do it for yourself," Metal responded gruffly after a minute. "Do it as a fuck you to Zaman. Don't let him have the satisfaction of breaking you." She turned her wet eyes to look at him, contemplating his words. "Cling to the knowledge that when the Navy comes for us, they're comin' for his ass too. And they will make him suffer."

"Are you sure you can't just kill me? Put me out of my misery?" She asked it only half-jokingly, and all three of them knew it.

"I could," he replied, voice low and matter-of-fact. "But you're not there yet. You still have some fight left in you."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Feiyaz finally nodded, turning back to stare at the ceiling. Metal let his head fall gently against the wall behind him, though he kept a watchful gaze on the woman a few feet from him.

Brock smiled softly at the moment, feeling more hopeful himself at Metal's words. Which was good because if the pattern continued, they'd be back for him in a bit.

The start of round five.

They came for Metal again.

He went compliantly, though the glare never left his stoic face. The guards continued to treat him as a hostile combatant, a heavy fear in their eyes. Metal tried not to enjoy that too much.

Brock and Feiyaz sat in silence, both deep in their own thoughts as they fought to stay in control of themselves. The days of pain were taking a heavy toll on them more so than Metal it seemed. They came back each time feeling less and less like themselves, leaving a little piece of their spirit on the floor with the puddles of blood that spilled from their bodies.

More than a little worse for wear, Brock was starting to feel like his outer shell was cracking. His last round of violence and agony had been particularly brutal. The broken arm he now cradled to his chest was arguably the worst of it, but his fingernails being ripped out one at a time had affected him the most mentally. It wasn't the physical injury that really got to him. No, pain was just the body's reaction to stimulus, and while it sucked, one could shove past it.

No, it was drawing himself out of reality and into his mind that became the problem. He had too much time to think, to ponder the various outcomes of this scenario. And that led to the stark realization that there might not be anyone coming for them. Command might not have their location. Hell, they weren't even sure Bravo team had made it out of the ambush after arriving to rescue them. He didn't see any of them around when he'd woken up from the blast, but that didn't mean they hadn't been hunted down like dogs as they tried to escape back to base.

He could only hope his brothers were safe and sound.

He really hoped they were looking for him.

Feiyaz was gone. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, she was completely checked out. There was no way she could do this anymore. No amount of pep talks or thinking of home or revenge was going to get her through this. Her body was in so much pain that it was basically numb, and she wasn't sure there were any more tears for her to cry. At this point, she would welcome the death Zaman so desperately wanted to give her.

They were interrupted from their thoughts by the heavy door opening with a squeal. The guards had returned, though Metal wasn't with them. If either captive were alert enough to focus, that would have raised their suspicions.

As it was, Feiyaz was barely conscious as the men yelled at her in Pashto to stand up, unlocking the chains from her shackles. She shuffled forward as they shoved her roughly, and it was all she could do not to stumble over her own feet.

Finally aware of what was happening, Brock's eyes widened in concern as she too was led from the room. All he could do was wait to see if either of his friends came back.

Feiyaz was escorted to the same large room she had been in several times before. She could feel the mask of indifference and dissociation slip into her mind, knowing already what lay ahead of her.

What she wasn't expecting was to see Full Metal chained to a chair near the head of her least favorite table. He was bleeding from a newly-split brow and covered in a sheen of sweat, but otherwise looked as stoic as ever. Her eyes widened, and she quickly connected the dots at what was about to transpire.

They were going to be tortured together and made to watch.

Her stomach rolled, bile rising in her throat. She didn't want to see Metal in agony, and she definitely didn't want him to see what had been happening to her.

They bent her over the table face first and secured her shackled hands to the ring in the middle. Taking deep breaths, she avoided looking in Metal's direction as she tried to mentally prepare herself for this new challenge.

Why couldn't they just kill her already?

The wheels in her head began to turn, trying to devise a plan. Maybe she could anger Zaman enough that he would snap and kill her in a fit of rage. But was that the coward's way out? She would get freedom while the other two would be stuck in this neverending pain and suffering. There had to be some way out for all of them.

She rested her forehead against the wooden table and took a shuddering breath as she heard more men enter the room.

And so it began.

"Your Alpha One is hard to crack, Feiyaz," Zaman said in heavily-accented English as he walked into view, an arrogant smile on his face. "No matter what we do, he barely makes a sound and refuses to talk unless it's an insult. Clearly physical pain isn't going to do it, so…" He clapped his hands together as though he were announcing a grand plan. "Let's see how he does with the emotional pain of watching his teammate suffer."

"I'm not his teammate," she replied in Pashto, knowing the lies would likely not change a thing, but she had to try. "We just met, it was our first mission together."

Zaman eyed her knowingly, glancing at the SEAL before moving closer to her. "First mission or not, these Americans and their chivalry are legendary. Do you really think he won't try to save you?"

She shook her head as best she could, switching back to English in defeat. "He doesn't give a shit about me. And no amount of misplaced chivalry is going to make him talk." Hopefully, that was enough to let Metal know she didn't expect him to do anything heroic.

"We'll see," was Zaman's only reply as he moved to his favorite workbench to select his first tool. Feiyaz chanced a glance at Metal, whose face was hard. He gave her a slow nod, part encouragement and part resignation at what was about to happen.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift off as Zaman got to work. Her silence turned to muffled groans, which soon became cries and screams as she lost her fight against the pain. As she was dragged back into reality, she felt the blood trickling down her sides from knife wounds designed to cause agony, but not lasting damage.

Sobs wracked her body, and she didn't dare look up at Metal, who hadn't made a sound the entire time. He must think she was weak, pathetic. She'd lasted less than ten minutes before the tears had arrived. What kind of soldier did that make her?

It continued for what felt like hours as Zaman alternated between slicing her open delicately with his knives and smashing blunt objects into her naked body. He particularly seemed to like focusing on her right leg, which was now throbbing in pain.

He finally stopped, and Feiyaz could only hope he'd lost interest in this new game of his.

Her hopes were dashed as she felt a rough hand trail up her leg suggestively. He hadn't lost interest, he'd simply changed direction.

Not able to help herself, desperate for an escape, she shifted her gaze to look at Metal. His face remained impassive, like he was carved from stone, but his eyes… there was a fire raging behind them like she'd never seen. Was he angry with her for making this harder on him? No, this wasn't directed at her. He was angry for her.

She slammed her eyes shut as she was entered forcefully from behind, trying to bite back a groan. Everything was sore and painful at this point, there was no way around it.

The sound of wood creaking met her ears and made the man behind her slow his pace. "See? He does care." Feiyaz kept her eyes closed until her head was pulled up from behind by her hair. "Look at him!" Her eyes shot open and she took in Metal's hands clenched around the arms of the wooden chair, looking as though he was ready to break free of his restraints. "Tell me what I want to know, American, and I'll stop. The longer you don't talk, the longer she suffers because of you."

Feiyaz stared into Metal's gaze, knowing it was her turn to be strong for him. She couldn't be the reason he broke, not after all this time. Gritting her teeth, she kept her mouth shut even as Zaman picked up the pace behind her. There was a silent conversation happening between the two Navy sailors, one of encouragement and strength and resilience. They would not give in to this asshole, no matter what.

As Zaman finished, he took a minute to collect himself, then pulled away in irritation. "You would really go through all of this pain to protect these people?" he asked angrily, beginning to pace. "What about your own people? What about us? Do we not deserve your loyalty?"

"I'm doing this for my people," she replied, voice determined as her eyes remained glued to Metal's. "For both my Afghani people and my American people. Fanatics like you are a disease to us all."

Lashing out, he swung his hands across the surface of his workbench and tools went flying across the floor. After a few angry breaths, he motioned two of his companions toward the woman. "Take your turn."

Metal used every ounce of self-control he possessed not to react as the men continued the assault on Feiyaz. He did his best to maintain eye contact with her, to give her whatever reassurance and support he could to keep her strong. It seemed to help for a while, though she started to fade as time went on and exhaustion set in. She had stopped crying, stopped making much noise of any kind as she was forced to endure it all.

Time had all but stopped for the two captives as all they could do was wait out the torture and hope it would be over soon.

When the men had finished, Zaman looked expectantly between the two, seemingly disappointed that neither had given in. "Maybe I give everyone in the compound a turn, no?" He frowned when his threat received no reaction from the woman, who lay there almost in a dissociated trance. Obviously this method of violence wasn't going to convince them, so he decided to change tactics.

Zaman walked over to one of his guards, pulling the pistol from the holster around his waist and turning back to his prisoners. "Maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way," he said contemplatively to Feiyaz as he came to a stop between her and Metal. "Maybe I tried the emotional torture on the wrong person."

Without flinching, he aimed the gun at Metal and pulled the trigger.

Feiyaz was startled from where she'd hidden inside her mind, getting pulled back to reality with a jolt as her eyes shot open in surprise. With a string of curses, Metal looked to the ceiling and took a few deep breaths against the pain now emanating from the bullet hole in his shoulder. He tried his best to keep it together as he saw Feiyaz begin to struggle against the chains holding her down. Guess it was his turn to be strong for her.

"Do I have your attention now?" Zaman asked her sarcastically, leaning down to catch her gaze. "How much do I need to hurt him before you tell me what I want to know?" She glared at him hatefully but said nothing. The Taliban leader sighed and approached Metal, reaching out to jam his thumb into the fresh wound with glee.

Metal rocked in his chair, every fiber of his being telling him to break the wooden arms he was chained to and wreak havoc on the men in the room. But he couldn't guarantee that he'd get to them all before they got to Feiyaz or Brock, so he instead sat and stewed in pain.

A feminine shout of Pashto came from his teammate, and both he and Zaman turned their gazes to look at her. He could see the distress on her face, more so now than when she herself was getting tortured. This was the kind of thing they didn't prepare you for in standard Naval training.

He shook his head at her slowly, trying to let her know he could handle it. Feiyaz and Zaman went back and forth in the language Metal knew little of, and the conversation began to grow heated as the Taliban leader became angrier by the second, apparently not getting the answers he wanted.

"Maybe I just kill him," Zaman said through gritted teeth, switching back to English so the threat could be understood by both captives. "I have another one to trade, I don't need two." He raised the gun up to point directly at Metal's head, and the man squared his shoulders in resignation. This wasn't exactly how he had imagined going out, but it was as good a day as any to die. His only regret would be leaving Brock and Feiyaz to fend for themselves in this hellhole until the cavalry arrived.

Feiyaz's eyes were wide with fear, and Metal tried to catch her gaze, to let her know it was okay, but she was focused on Zaman. She began shouting frantically in Pashto as she struggled to sit up, her words sounding like a desperate plea. Metal could only assume she was begging for his life, something he wouldn't do himself. It was a sweet gesture at least, though he knew it would prove useless.

Zaman finally shouted something back at her and the desperate pleas continued. The SEAL wished they'd just kill him already, the waiting was the worst part. He clenched his jaw as the gun moved closer, ready to take the shot.

The next phrase of Pashto from Feiyaz was quieter, defeated, as she let her forehead hit the table in front of her. The words tumbled out so fast that Metal wasn't sure anyone would be able to understand it and his brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was she saying?

The gun was lowered as Zaman stared at her, prompting her with what sounded like questions when she paused. He seemed satisfied at whatever she was telling them, and the hair rose on the back of Metal's neck.

Had they broken her? Was she giving up in an attempt to save his life? What military secrets had she decided to divulge?

"Shut up!" he shouted angrily, rocking in the chair again as his temper raged. Feiyaz kept talking though, never looking up at him. How could she do this? His life wasn't worth the potential fallout of whatever she was sharing. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Be quiet!" Zaman shouted, hitting him in the head with the butt of the pistol. His vision swam and he shook his head to escape the darkness that came for him.

Tears once again spilled from her eyes as Feiyaz finally went silent. Zaman approached her, gently rubbing a hand down her tangled mane of hair. "That's a good girl," he said softly as he continued to pet her. "Your people would be proud. Maybe you'll redeem yourself yet in the eyes of Allah." He motioned for one of his men to unlock her chain and she sank to her knees on the floor slowly without its support.

"Patch him up," came the command as gauze and antiseptic were tossed on the ground in front of her. "Now, before he bleeds out."

Feiyaz obediently picked up the items and leveraged herself to her feet shakily, shuffling around the table at a snail's pace. She kept her tear-stained face angled down, not ready to meet the eyes of her furious teammate. Despite his lack of outward reaction, she could feel the tension and betrayal radiating off him in waves as she stopped next to him. He knew she had told the men something they were interested in hearing.

There wasn't much she could say right now, the room filled with watchful eyes and ears. There also wasn't much she could do for the wound leaking blood down his chest. She looked to his back, thankful to see a second hole that at least meant it had been a clean shot through. The tank top they had stripped him to gave her easy access, and Feiyaz drenched a few gauze pads with the alcohol, pressing them into the wound hesitantly.

His only reaction was a sharp intake of breath, which had her grimacing in sympathy. "Sorry," she muttered softly, though she saw only a glare in her direction out of the corner of her eye in response.

After wiping away some of the blood and attempting to sanitize the wound, she put a few fresh gauze pads over either side and began to wrap it with the makeshift bandages she'd been provided.

The low, rough voice startled her from her focus. "What the hell did you tell them?" Metal asked in a whisper, his words full of anger and a hint of hurt.

Tears welled in her eyes again as the tone cut through the last of her walls that remained standing. She bit her lip, using every remaining shred of strength she had to keep it together. "What I had to," she replied shakily after a minute, then lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "Trust me."

Her plea seemed to have little effect on him as he continued to glare at her. Tying off the bandage now circling around his shoulder, she moved away from him quickly.

"Take him back," Zaman said, motioning his men over to the SEAL. Feiyaz sighed in relief, both that he seemed safe for now and that she wouldn't have to see his distrustful gaze.

That relief was short-lived though, as Zaman turned his attention back to her with a wicked grin. "What else do you have to tell me?"