Chapter 2

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(A/N: Sia's Titanium is such a good song for this story/pairing! :P)


It all hit him the moment he was finally left on his own, bruised and aching, in a too-large room. The lighting was enough to give him a headache, but Smoke was too focused on the hole where his heart had been pulsating that morning. It hurt so much, more than any physical wound ever could.


Kapkan was gone, gutted like a beast without being given a chance at life. Never again would he be able to bury his face in the older man's neck and breath the familiar scent, never sit in the other's lap to be encircled in that protective embrace he sought out many a dark night. Never hear that deep voice whisper comfortingly in his ear as he tried to come to terms with whatever monstrosity he'd committed in name of his country.


Smoke's lower lip trembled as he tried to push those thoughts away, Kapkan's last words to him. Words he'd failed to return.


Putting weight on his left leg had the british man groaning softly, quickly shifting back onto his good leg. He was standing on a very small block of some sort of stone, barely big enough for both his feet to rest upon, while his hands were tied behind his back, chain around his neck to force him onto the tips of his toes. Any relaxation would cause the makeshift noose to tighten, forcing Smoke to remain upright. A difficult task considering he only had one good leg to support his full weight.


A door opening from somewhere behind had the young man attempting to turn to face whoever had entered, his good foot slipping off the block.


The skull-faced man appeared in front of him as he choked, desperately trying to get back onto the block with his bad leg, straining to reach it as those piercing grey eyes observed his panic with amusement. "Get him back up."


Rough hands grabbed at Smoke, pulling him forwards so he could regain his footing, legs trembling with the exertion as the young man tried to find a way to keep himself on the block without it being so exhausting.


"Difficult, isn't it?"


Smoke turned his head ever so slightly as the masked terrorist sat in a seat brought over by one of his subordinates, the large man crossing one leg over his knee as he looked his captive up and down with obvious interest.


"Go to.. hell." Smoke managed to form the words with some sense of confidence, something he was truly proud of. This was nothing. He'd been trained to withstand more than this! This was child's play and he-


"I'm sorry about your friend."


The words tore apart any resistance Smoke had been building up in preparation for what was undoubtedly going to be an interrogation, though what they were looking for or wanted, he wasn't yet aware of.


"Were you two, I don't know," the masked man gave a small shrug of his shoulders, "close?"


Smoke clenched his jaw as he tried to keep out images of Kapkan's lifeless body amidst his own blood, blood of which still stained the brit's hands and knees. His fingers flexed ever so slightly at that thought.

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