Lights (Scomiche)

Anger

"Your boyfriend's alive, not very happy, but alive. You know he has the sweetest little hands, I'm sure you know ALL about that, right Scotty boy?" 

He felt Alex's hand tighten around his own, and knew that he was fighting his own tongue, but the unintentional motion kept him grounded and focused. "The cops want to negotiate. They have something they want to offer." 

"I'm listening." 

"You have to be hungry by now, thirsty. They want to get you food in exchange for you letting some hostages go free." 

He himself thought the idea was horrible, and there was no way this guy was going to go for it. 

"You got yourself a deal, but only if you send Corona. A few six packs and a few pizzas. I'll even share with those scared whimpering meatsacks i don't send back to you. 

He wanted to beg for Mitch's release, but he knew it wouldn't happen. 

"So you get me food. That buys you a few cowards and an hour. After that, my van better be here and my plane ready or I'll start returning hostages...   in parts." 

He needed to keep him talking. He looked at the screen the agents were typing what to say onto. 

"Will two six packs be enough for you?" 

"There's 8 of us, Scott. If you want to know how many of us there are just ask. We started with 24 hostages, not including the 4 dead rent-a-cops. Some are still around, some weren't so lucky. Anything else you want to ask me?" 

He wanted to ask to talk to Mitch, he wanted to ask if he could take his place... 

But he couldn't. He did what he was supposed to and read from the screen. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

He could hear the quiet chuckle. "Gotta go. Your boyfriend's calling my name." 

He gripped onto Alex's hand as the call ended again. 

___

He was pacing outside after 10 minutes. It couldn't be that hard to get pizza and beer. He was nervous and anxious. He'd never felt more helpless, more lost... had never been filled with such regret. There were so many things he needed to say, needed Mitch to hear. He couldn't lose him now, not after everything they'd been through together. There were so many things they had planned to do... 

"You need to eat something." 

"I can't even think about food right now." 

"Scott, you-"

"Don't. He's in there, no food, no water. He's hurt and he's scared and he's all alone, ok? I don't give two shits about food or drink or anything besides getting him out of there. I can't-" 

He started to walk away, but heard his name called from within the truck. He hurried back in as the tech readied to answer, but the ringing suddenly stopped. 

"Wait, why did he hang up? Call him back!"  

The tech looked to the agents and there was a bit of discussion over what to do, but after a couple of minutes there was another sound, a text alert. 

The tech opened it. "It's a video." He pulled it up on the screen, the first frame a blurry screenshot.. 

It took Scott a moment to realize it was Mitch. His face was black and blue, the opening of his sweater had been ripped and he could see what looked to be blood trailing along his neck and collarbone "Oh my God." 

The FBI agent who had been coaching him put a hand on his shoulder once again. "I'm sorry, Scott, but he's more than likely going to refer to this video. He wants you to see it. 

He didn't know what to do. If he had to watch them torture him he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it, but did he really have a choice? 

Alex came up behind him again, taking his hand as they both prepared for the worst. 

The tech pushed play and he could hear Olivier's voice. "You didn't answer me, Scott. I'm hurt. Your boy so wanted to talk to you, isn't that right Michelle?" He watched Mitch just stare at the floor. He could see now the blood stain at his shoulder, the origin of all of that red he saw against the pale skin. 

A hand pulled Mitch's head back by his hair, exposing his neck. 

"Let me show you just how hurt I am." 

He saw the blade enter the shot before the point was gently placed against skin and then driven through it like butter. There was that sound again, that horrible wail that would haunt him to his grave. 

Those fingers released the hilt, leaving the sharp object embedded fully in Mitch's body, this new injury almost mirroring the wound in his other shoulder. "We'll just let him keep that as a reminder. Hopefully next time you won't ignore me.  Say goodbye Mitchie."

The view moved up to the anguished boy's face. "I love you, Scott." It was half whisper/half cry, and it turned him inside out. The video ended. 

Alex walked out, punching the metal door in blind anger he just didn't know how to release any other way.

And Scott?...  He had the immediate urge to wallow, to scream and cry, but those words lit a fire in him. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He was still alive and be damned if he was going to lose him now to some twisted psycho. He was upset, he was worried and he was terrified, but now he was pissed off. He had to win. He had to. 

___________

He'd been so close, his nail just hadn't been strong enough. He'd tried a single staple but that just wasn't quite enough either. He'd been just about to try two staples together, but he'd heard tweedles dumb and dumber coming down the hall so he'd let himself just rest against the wall, bracelet shoved up as high on his arm as it would go. 

He got lucky on more than one occasion when his arm was grabbed barely a centimeter from where that bracelet sat. No one had noticed yet and he wanted it off before it could be used against him. 

The amount of pain that shot through him with every step he was forced to take nearly blinded him, but he thought of Scott out there being strong for him and he somehow pushed through it. 

He was led back to the same chair he'd been in before and watched the bastard dial out again. He let it ring four times before he ended the call in a rage. 

He knew he was about to be punished for it. 

__

He didn't know how to feel about it, the SWAT units dispersing around the building and the surrounding. He worried it would put Mitch at even more risk, but it's not like he was exactly safe at the moment anyway. 

He had no idea how these things really worked, but it seemed almost like a play that was half improv, half scripted. There were parts that worked like a well-oiled machine and other's that were just made up as they went along. It was too hard to keep up with it all. 

He refused to go more than a step from the truck anymore. He wouldn't go through watching anything like that again. He wouldn't anger Olivier anymore than he already had. 

One of the agents gestured for him to come inside, asked if he was ready to make another call. They had to think of a way to get the requested items inside and the hostages outside, a way that Olivier wouldn't be angered over. The only logical way to go about it was to ask Olivier what he wanted them to do. 

He took a couple more deep breaths before he gave the nod. 

__

He messed up. 

He thought he was being discreet, thought he'd get it over with and then he'd be ok, but it hadn't exactly happened as planned. 

You get caught, you get punished. 

He didn't expect ...   this. 

He shattered.