John and Dave were left alone for the rest of the day, spending most of the time in awkward silence. They'd never had much in common before their estrangement and now there were even less topics they could comfortably talk about. Both had already exhausted their supply of childhood memories the evening before and their current situation didn't exactly call for small talk.
John tried to come up with an escape plan, but he didn't have much to go on. After a while he gave up with a frustrated sigh. He then offered to have a look at Dave's injuries, but Dave declined. "You're not a doctor, anyway, so what good would do." John wanted to argue that he had accumulated quite the experience with this kind of stuff over the years, but then he just let it go.
Without natural light it was difficult to measure time, so at some point John made an educated guess and just declared bed time. He settled down against the bars on the unforgiving cold floor and tried to get at least a bit of sleep. Dave stayed on the other side of his cell, but also lay down, all the time complaining about the missing amenities. Needless to say, they spent a miserable night. They were both cold and hurting and didn't end up sleeping much.
When their hosts burst into Dave's cell the next morning, Gru smirked and held up zip ties and a stun gun. "I come bearing gifts."
Dave didn't catch on right away, but only stared at the objects. John's imagination had already provided the details as they manhandled his brother to the far wall of the cell. They ripped Dave's pajama shirt from him, pushed his back against the concrete and zi-tied his hands to rings that were embedded in the wall at about head height.
"No! Let me go!" Dave struggled against his bindings, but to no avail.
Gru spent a moment observing the minions' handywork, then he turned towards John, who stood at the bars again.
"New day, new chance. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked like a predator about to strike.
Dave looked at John pleadingly.
John tried to suppress the rage burning within him and was dying to give the bastard a piece of his thoughts. But he gritted his teeth and remained silent. He didn't want to make it worse for his brother. When he had his lose tongue under control he settled for a simple "No."
"Perhaps you might want to reconsider?", Gru asked sweetly, showing off the stun gun. "We could start with an easy one: Where are you stationed?"
At this point a sigh escaped John and he looked apologetically at Dave. "Nope. Sorry. Thats classified."
"Are you sure that's how you want to play this?" Gru lifted an eyebrow.
John didn't answer. It wouldn't make a difference.
After that, things went downhill quickly. Gru turned to Dave again and poked him in the side with the stun gun.
Dave yelped.
John had to bite his tongue. There was absolutely nothing he could do at this stage.
Gru went on to zap Dave all over his chest and arms. Between screams, Dave sobbed "John, please!" and "Please stop!".
When Dave finally hung limply in his restraints, John was barely holding it together. Having to watch his innocent brother being tortured was a whole new level of horror for him. He'd rather have them torture him. On the other hand, he had the sneaking suspicion, that would happen soon, anyway.
He didn't have time to dwell on the thought, when his door opened only moments later.
"Your turn." Gru once again waved with the stun gun.
"Oh fun.", John replied with the biggest, most insolent smirk he could muster. At least he didn't have to watch his mouth now.
"Strip." Gru's command caught him off guard.
John only hesitated for a second, his mind unhelpfully providing dreadful scenarios, but then complied. He didn't really have a choice here and he had to choose his battles. And even more important, it was really cold in here, so he had the suspicion later on he would be glad to have intact clothing. So he took off his sweats and shirt, dropped them in a pile on the floor.
He was really glad, when they didn't insist on him taking off his boxers. For now. A snarky little voice in his head provided.
John didn't resist either, when they dragged him to the rings in the wall on his side of the bars. With five guys in the cell, it would have been futile anyway. Hopefully, when he appeared beaten down, an opportunity to escape would open up sometime soon.
But first, the stun gun was pressed to the big bruise on his sternum. He clamped down on a scream and teased Gru: "You aren't much of a foreplay-guy, are you?"
This earned him an extralong shock to his belly, that hurt like a bitch. Panting heavily against the pain, he re-ran his options, but came up with nothing new. Gritting his teeth it was.
They asked him about the mission in Watapur, and about his current deployment, but he wouldn't answer their questions. He couldn't. Hed let his brother be tortured to keep this knowledge save, he wouldn't budge now.
But Gru and his Minions didn't seem to get it; they seemed to think, he just needed more incentive. So they went on and on with the devilish device on his chest and belly, shoulders and arms and thighs, and when those where covered in burns, they went on to more sensitive areas.
And again, there was a point, when John just couldn't hold in his screams any longer. He fervently hoped that Dave was still unconscious and didn't have to hear any of this.
Gru watched him with gleaming eyes. A smile slowly spread on his thin, cruel mouth.
When the shocks finally stopped, John felt utterly exhausted. His throat was raw from screaming and his wrists throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Looking left and right, he realized, the zip ties were digging in deeply and blood dripping down his arms. It probably was from all the thrashing around.
John could barely hold himself up, and as soon as his arms were released, he crumpled to the floor. Gru stood over him for a moment looking him up and down like he wanted to take in every detail, then left.
When he was alone, John tried to get his elbows under him. Nope. Moving wasn't an option right now.
But soon, thirst won and he crawled to the door, hoping there would be water. John was immensely happy to find a new bottle of water and took a few deep gulps. It felt heavenly. He made himself stop halfway through, though. He was not nearly satisfied, but he first wanted to check, if David also had water. Just because he had some the last time, didn't mean that they could rely on it. John absolutely wouldn't put these little games past Gru.
So he put the water down and crawled back to get his clothes. It was a painstakingly slow process to get his pants and shirt on. But even with the fabric chafing against his wounds, he felt so much better when he was fully clothed again.
For a moment he sat on the floor feeling lightheaded, gathering strength; then he got up on wobbly legs with a pained grimace and staggered the few steps to the bars.
He needn't have worried. Dave was still out cold on the floor and a bottle of water and a sandwich were awaiting him at the door. John felt his stomach growl but chastised himself. Dave needed it more than him. As long as he had water, he could go a few days without food. Piece of cake.
John wished, he could get his brother off the could floor or at least get his shirt back on. But as close to each other as they were, the bars made it impossible. It would have to wait until Dave woke up.
Again, he settled down at the bars with a groan. Slowly, all the different aches made themselves known and fought for his attention. To top it off, his leg felt worse today. Earlier, when he had put his pants back on, the wound had been oozing liquid and the edges had been red and puffy, too. That probably meant, infection was setting in. Great. Exactly what he needed right now.
But John tried to stay positive. O'Neill and his team would find them, but they would need time. They just needed to hold out until then. He looked at Dave worriedly. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do.
So he day-dreamed about Atlantis and about soaring through the skies in a nice bird, until he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Dave was coming round. Finally. It had been hours and John had been more than a bit worried.
But Dave seemed okay. He was cursing under his breath while putting his pajama shirt back on. Only one button had survived the rough handling, so he had to push the flaps into the waistband of his pants.
Dave then staggered to the cell door to get his food and water. John was surprised, when he settled on sitting down near the bars. In the dim light of their twin-cell he looked tired and drawn.
"How are you?", John asked concerned, but Dave just shrugged.
"You're doing good, Dave. Just stay strong! You just have to hang on a little while longer." John tried to sound soothing but obviously missed the mark. He was definitely not prepared for the sharp answer.
"Shut up! You have no right to talk to me like that, smartass! They didn't electrocute you, for fuck's sake! Plus, it's your fault in the first place, that they're doing this to me!" Dave was breathing heavily.
With a start, John realized that Dave still hadn't caught on that he wasn't the only chew toy here.
Dave hadn't heard the strain in his voice, he didn't see the pain in his eyes. To be honest, how could he? He had no training, no experience with situations like this. Dave was in way over his head. He had to be hurting badly and was probably scared to death, too.
While John was lost in thought, Dave had retreated into a corner to eat his meager meal.
In an attempt not to pay attention to the sounds of his brother munching on the sandwich, John hummed "Folsom Prison" to himself. He tried to figure out, if he should tell his brother. But how? "Oh, by the way, they are torturing me, too.", sounded pretty silly to him. So he decided against it.
John stretched out on the cold floor, using his arm as pillow, hoping for the little reprieve sleep would bring him.
