He lay there on the floor of someone's office, blood sliding across his neck from the throbbing wound near his shoulder. He couldn't really see out of his right eye as it was nearly swollen shut. It was probably just as well. He felt like he'd been hit by a bus. He was pretty sure at least one rib was cracked if not broken and a few others bruised. The only good thing that came of the ordeal is that his hands had been cut loose when he hadn't been able to get to his feet on his own without them. He'd pushed through the pain once his hands were free and forced himself to trudge along to the office he'd been pushed into. He hadn't even moved from the place he'd landed. He just didn't have the strength. It hurt to breathe, but he knew it was just the beginning.
The only thing that got him to move was the fear of the bracelet still hidden in his sweater. At least if he could find something to get it off then he wouldn't be caught with it. He nearly screamed as his body gave protest to every single movement. He let his eyes search for something, something small and thin enough to fit. He knew he had less than 10 minutes before that knife burnt through him again, so he decided to start with his fingernail. He slid his finger into his sleeve, deciding he'd be safest to do it without exposing it. He kept his eyes on the door as he felt the nail slide into the groove.
Please work.
_____
Alex was finally with him now. It had taken a bit of argument to get him access, but he finally did. He just needed a familiar face, someone to tell him it was all going to be ok even when there was a huge chance it would never be again.
He checked the clock again for probably the 200th time in the past few minutes
He was being briefed on what to do and say this time. He was to try and keep his emotions in check even if Mitch was screaming... ESPECIALLY then. The man was doing it to get those panicked reactions from Scott and the more he played into it the worse it would get. He had to stay strong.
This time they were going to be the ones calling. They needed to get some control over the situation.
It had been just over 8 minutes since the previous call, and he knew they had to move fast. He gave a slight nod to the tech who then sent the command to dial. He held tight to Alex's hand, squeezing it for strength. He knew he was going to need it.
"Prompt. I like that. Worried about your boyfriend?"
He took a quiet breath. "They have your pilot but we need to know what size plane, where you're going so we can make sure it's properly fueled."
"Switzerland, clear flight path. Also I'm going to need a van to get me to this plane. You coming with me Scott?"
He wanted to hurl at the way he said his name, adding a seductive purr. He bit back a retort, his hatred of this man defying everything he thought he was capable of.
"You know my name, do I get to know yours?"
He could hear the smirk in his voice. "Olivier."
Fancy name for a fancy asshole.
"Is Mitch ok? I mean, is everyone ok?" He was supposed to try and take the focus away from Mitch, keep it general and force the man to give up more information than he intended to. He was just so desperate to know he was alive. He knew deep inside that even if he was, he wasn't alright. He'd heard that scream. He was in pain and he was alone. He couldn't help that, but he could do this... this was the only way he could help fix it.
"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.