To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Warning: Heavy, heavy angst, torture
Notes: Heard the expression that things gotta get worse before they get better? Well, we’re starting on the getting worst part...


45

”See you around.”

Four days later and Squall hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the blond cop. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did. Maybe the cop would show up later that evening or tomorrow. Still he couldn’t completely calm that little knot in the pit of his stomach. He subconsciously knew that a man which had showed up every day for the last month or so wouldn’t normally stop coming.

Squall went to his classes and they helped distract him for a little while. As he returned home the knot in his stomach only coiled tighter. No car. No lights in the apartment. No towering, smoking figure in the shadows of the hall. No nothing.

It felt odd standing in his dark, silent apartment with a complex feeling of anxiety and loss in his chest. He was starting to act silly! Squall tried to curse himself and convince himself that he was acting ridicules and that when the cop finally did turn up he wouldn’t be allowed inside.

During the night he had difficulty sleeping. It took a while to realize that it mostly originated from anxieties over his work the next night. Why should he feel worried? It wasn’t as if that man would be there and it wasn’t as if Mr. Unimas would succeed in convincing him to press charges.

The next day was a grey flickering thing. He was too exhausted to paint. Too exhausted to study and had absolutely no appetite. Squall could very well imagine the face of the blond if he got to know that Squall hadn’t eaten the whole day. It almost made him make a smile.

Returning to the nightclub was worse than he had first believed it would be. He kept looking over his shoulder expecting to meet those ice blue, cold eyes. It was as if he could feel eyes at his back and it didn’t start when he arrived at the club. The moment he set foot outside the apartment building, uneasiness had slowly built up inside of him.

His boss gave him a gruff growl about not letting scumbags get away so easily and that the club would cover any legal costs. Squall still refused. Why bother? At which Mr. Unimas had growled something else and shooed him away.

It was an effort of will to step out among the crowds. It wasn’t as thick as last Saturday but still. Thankfully Trixy was back so Squall could keep a long, long distance to those shady places.

Returning home he still hadn’t seen any sign of the cop.

*****

Almost a week later and Squall was as close to a wreck as he ever had been. Close to two weeks and he hadn’t seen or heard or whatsoever gotten a life sign from the man. He hadn’t even seen anyone of the cop’s companions, that redhead or tattooed man. From Sunday to Tuesday he had told himself that there could be a logical explanation. Like some freak mission on the job or anything else.

But after that he couldn’t any longer subdue hideous thoughts of murder and blood and death. What if Seifer had gone after that man? What if he had been killed? He had tried to reassure himself that surely the redhead, Irvine, would have come by and told him. He had when the cop had been shot after all. That worked to calm him somewhat until he remembered that it had been Seifer’s expressed wish to see him that had sent Irvine.

The brunet dragged his feet up the steps to Teo’s door. The youth tried to shake the melancholy that had settled. The fear. The anguish. The almost breath constricting panic of that he might have been discarded. Abandoned.

Teo opened the door and smiled his usually warm smile. Squall couldn’t answer. His stomach had been a constant hard knot the last days and by now he didn’t know if it was from hunger or fear.

“Make yourself comfortable. We’ll have a hard lesson of grammaticism ahead of us,” Teo grinned over his shoulder before going into the kitchen.

Squall didn’t answer, just did as told. He had no motivation for lessons. He hadn’t had any motivation for painting either. It seemed he hadn’t been thinking of anything else than that horrible Saturday. He shouldn’t have told the cop what the man had looked like. He shouldn’t have gone home until he had gathered himself properly. He shouldn’t have forgotten the bite mark so Seifer ever saw it.

He unconsciously fingered the healed area. It was still a bit sore. He had a polo on so it wasn’t visible. Squall looked up as the teacher stepped into the little classroom carrying a wide tray with biscuits, cookies, hot chocolate and tea. Maybe he knew something? Just maybe? However, Squall couldn’t find the courage to ask. What if he got an answer he really didn’t want to hear?

The lesson felt slow and difficult, just as Quists’s lesson had felt. Just like every pass at the factory had felt. Like every hour in his empty apartment had felt while he waited. Expected. In the end Teo sighed and looked him over in a way that Squall knew meant Teo had noticed his mood.

“You’re not with me at all today. What’s wrong? Should we take a break?” he asked softly.

Squall shook his head but couldn’t look up in dark eyes. What if Teo knew something? Maybe it was only a mission for the police? Maybe Seifer had been assigned to be a guard of a safe house. Then he couldn’t contact anyone and surely his companions didn’t think to notice Squall of such a thing?

“Have you… talked with Seifer lately?” he asked in a tone he hoped was slightly disinterested.

He got a long contemplative stare. Then Teo straightened somewhat in his chair.

“No, we haven’t spoken in… weeks. Or is it a month now?” Teo asked of himself.

It didn’t reassure Squall whatsoever.

“What’s going on? Have you two been fighting?” he asked carefully.

Squall shook his head.

“No, I was just wondering if you two still spoke after the fight you had,” Squall lied.

Teo obviously didn’t believe that was the case but smilingly went with Squall’s story.

*****

The apartment was silent, dark and cold when Squall returned that evening. From across the hall came shouts from the neighbors fighting. As he closed the door and locked it, he could only stand for a long time. He had known in the pits of his stomach that he should have ended this a long, long time ago.

He should have listened to his instincts that told him to run when this relationship had changed. The brunet dropped his backpack and pressed a hand over his eyes. They burned. His throat burned. His stomach and chest ached. He had known. Why had he been so stupid? Again? One way or another there was no such thing as love or relationships.

The youth carelessly discarded his outer clothes. Then he stood for a long time staring out through the window closest to his bed. It was the same like those years before. When Nida had taken off. Not, Squall had to admit, exactly the same. It was worse.

A tear suddenly run down his face and he hadn’t even realized that barrier had been crossed. He wiped at them in astonishment. They kept falling without him actually feeling as if crying. They just ran in a slow trickle. Was this it then? Had he finally cracked and broken down?

The youth curled up at his bed, still staring at the window. He had been abandoned again, hadn’t he? Why? What had he done? Or what hadn’t he done? Was it because of what happened at the club? Or had the man tired of him? Maybe he had found a new toy to play with.

*****

Squall called himself sick the next morning. He had legitimate reasons since he felt sick. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as bad as he currently did. The ache spread from his chest and stomach out to his whole body. His mind couldn’t stop spinning. From one subject to another but all the time the blond was in the mix.

He couldn’t stop pending between the belief that he had been discarded and the worry that maybe Seifer had been truly wounded. Like a car accident. Or shot at the job. Or just that nagging, guilt ridden thought that he had gone after the cold eyed man and gotten himself killed. Seifer may be strong and good but he was still flesh and blood. Still only a man who could be injured and killed like anyone else.

It took him the whole day to decide that he would dare to find Irvine. The tall redhead should know something and Squall felt more comfortable when imagining approaching Irvine than that tattooed cop.

Squall made a cup of soup. It was easy. Just boil water, empty the contents of the small bag in a big cup then pour the hot water over it. Easy made and easy to get down. Just drink it like a glass of water when it was cool enough. While eating he contemplated calling himself sick from the factory too so he could spend the day hunting the lanky cop. Once he had decided that yes, he could call himself sick to the factory too, he felt a little better.

Squall walked out of the kitchen and stared at his paintings for a while. No, he didn’t feel like it. He felt for sleeping even if it wasn’t that late yet. Suddenly the door rattled like a key getting pushed into it. Squall’s heart and stomach was in his throat within seconds and he swirled around to stare at the door.

Could it be? Could it really be? It was impossible to stifle the hope that seemed to electrify his whole body. The door was unlocked and slowly opened. Squall took a step forward at seeing a tall man, almost believing it was the cop. Then he stopped dead and his body froze in paralyzing confusion and fear.

Blue, cold eyes meet his as if by magnetism. It was as if the eyes hypnotized him and made everything run slow and turn grey. Squall knew he staggered backwards a few steps as his apartment seemed to be flooded by strangers with ill intent. It was the cold eyes that held him though. Those made him stumbled backwards. It was a good sense of self preservation that made some part of his brain register the fist coming. That instinctive, primal part of his brain also made him avoid the fist that surely would have knocked him unconscious.

He glided away from the big man and planted his own fist in the wide open side of him. That was it. Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him off balance. As he tried to claw the face of the man holding him, that arm was also grabbed. Then he couldn’t avoid the fist coming and bloody, sparkling pain exploded behind his eyes.

He felt light and flying. His body and brain numb from that jarring impact. Squall slowly blinked away the clouds from his eyes and brain and had the unpleasant experience of staring straight into those sinister blue eyes. A large hand held his jaws to keep him from looking away. Not that Squall would. Looking away meant that he was a victim. And he wasn’t. Ever. He glared. The man smirked maliciously.

“Hello there kitten, fancy meeting you here eh?” the man purred with dark amusement.

Squall twisted loose from the hand. Kitten was it? He knew better but refused to just stand there. He kicked out and since the man was taken off guard his knee landed perfectly in the unprotected groin. The man made a strangled noise and his eyes crossed funnily. The two men holding him were obviously stunned by the outrageous kick. He took the moment to kick one man’s shin so hard the man started howling and jumping around holding the injured leg.

The third wasn’t that easy. He avoided Squall’s kick. He couldn’t avoid short but damn useful nails though and Squall racked them across the gorilla’s face so hard that red, slightly bleeding welts followed the attack. It wasn’t enough of a deterrent and the hand around his arm squeezed so hard the youth was sure he wouldn’t feel his fingers for a week.

He tried to kick the man again, but it was blocked. Another swipe of his nails was also blocked and the clawing hand was grabbed until he whimpered in pain and would have gone down on his knees hadn’t the man held him up. Squall saw the headbutt coming and wasn’t so pain ridden that he couldn’t counter it by driving his own head into the man’s jaw before the move could be fully made.

The youth grunted as his hair was suddenly fisted harshly. The platinum haired man had regained his wits and the fury in his face made Squall pale and his stomach knot in the first true fear. He was punched again and this time let to fall to the floor.

Squall didn’t quite feel the first kicks. Then he felt every singly jarring impact. The pain blossomed like flaring, red areas across his body. Enough kicks to his back and his legs started to feel numb. He curled up with his hands around his head and knees towards his chest. It wasn’t enough of a protection, he already knew that. All it could take was one misplaced, too strong kick and he could be lame for his life. Or an organ could rupture and kill him before the villains was satisfied with their beating.

They stopped at some point and the pain that blossomed through his body was worse than during the beating. He felt broken. He knew for a fact that ribs had cracked because after every breath a nerve numbing pain followed. Squall cried out as his throat was gripped and used to drag him up far enough so the furious platinum haired man could sneer down in his face.

“Not so cocky now are you? I should bend you over and rip you apart but it’ll have to wait, after all there are so many other ways to show a bitch her place,” the man sneered and dropped him again.

Hyne. Was he here to extract vengeance for the club incident? Since they had beaten the fighting out of him, they only stood around him. Squall couldn’t see any other strangers beyond them so maybe it was only the three. He got a light kick to his side which nonetheless managed to have him whimper in pain.

“Where’s that bloody pig of yours? Where’s he hiding?” the man growled and crossed his arms over his chest.

Squall stared up in complete confusion. It earned him another kick and an angry growl.

“That bastard Seifer Almasy, where is he?” the man clarified.

It didn’t lessen but changed Squall’s confusion. Taking Squall’s silence as disobedience, the platinum haired man again grabbed his throat but this time dragged the youth to his feet. Squall yelped at the back handing he got. It made his already swollen lips crack and start to bleed.

“You better be a good boy-toy and tell me or I’ll do more than just rape you,” he hissed threateningly.

Squall didn’t think it was an empty threat. However, it was hard to make his brain work after getting beaten like a punching bag and then asked such a thing. What connection did they have? Or had Seifer tried and failed to harm the man in some way and now the man was after the cop instead?

Again being way too impatient, the man took his silence as disobedience. Squall grunted as he was roughly dragged into the kitchen. In passing he saw that the apartment door was still partly open. With a rough yank he was thrown against the far off wall in the small kitchen space. Effective. There was no way for him to get past the three men, not in his current condition.

Squall had no illusion of what was to happen as the sink was filled with water. So he struggled as the two muscles came for him. It was futile with broken ribs and a generally numb and hurting body. The icy blue eyed man smirked as he fisted Squall’s hair. Then he was pressed under the water’s surface.

Ever since he was a child, Squall mused, had he tasted beatings of different grades. The first being a foster father that had slapped him or used a long, thin branch to slap his palms when he had been naughty. School had taught him how to fight and every beating he had received had taught him something new. He had learned that the twitching of a leg preceded a kick, or that a slight withdrawal of a shoulder came before a punch.

Of all the things he had gone through, none had been suffocation. It was something he had never imagined. A pain that wasn’t as sharp or mind numbing as a good punch or a solid kick. His lungs started to burn and ache and his head started to throb, but it was in truth the panic that was worse. The animalistic panic that made him twist and struggle and ignore any injury in the fervent need of air.

Squall was dragged up again and made a guttural cry for air. He went still in the strong hold of his arms as his neck was bent back until he wondered if the sadist wanted to break it.

“Still not willing to tell me?” the man purred as if he didn’t want the youth to.

“I don’t know,” Squall croaked, still gasping for air.

He had never seen any reason to take unnecessary damage if it could be avoided. And if he had known? Had he told the rapist then? Squall didn’t think that through because he couldn’t answer easily. It was actually a relief, he realized, to not know. That way he wouldn’t have to endure pain and wouldn’t have to feel guilty for giving the man out. He was still dunked under the water again.

He stayed still this time and counted the seconds. He thought he endured the pressure longer this time, but wasn’t entirely sure. Squall started to believe that there was no way to stay still and in control while being suffocated. A body just took over and acted on automatics. Black spots started to dance in front of his eyes and he finally had to let go of the air in his lungs. Then he was withdrawn again and he had to gasp and cough and gasp.

Was this how a newborn felt when it’s lungs for the first time had to start working? No wonder they cried to sky high. He wasn’t straightened completely but held just above the surface. More water was poured in since his struggle had managed to spill a lot.

“Stubborn are ya? Don’t you know kittens are supposed to be cute and amicable?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Squall hissed through clenched teeth.

“We’ll see,” the man smirked.

Squall tried to struggle from the start this time. Maybe he would be let up sooner that way? But his lungs felt as if they would soon explode and his sight turned spotted with darkness and still he wasn’t let up. Not until he was limb and lost his air was he withdrawn and at that point his head was screaming bloody murder together with his heart and lungs. Hyne, he couldn’t go through another time.

It took time for him to gather himself again. He gasped and panted and still his body and lungs demanded more oxygen. He was trembling and his muscles ached.

“Should I boil some water and pour it in there with you? Do you think such burns would heal?” the man mused as if he was seriously contemplating it.

Squall was dunked under the surface before he had time to argue or plead his case again. He tried the being still method again. Nothing seemed to help the matter. The man seemingly knew when he was at his limits. When his sight blurred and his body started to lose strength and coordination from lack of air. He was ready to cry when he was let up again.

“I don’t know where he is!” he cried.

Damn it, why didn’t the idiot believe him? His hair was suddenly released and the muscle that had been holding him pressed him down in a chair. Squall was trembling with exertion and still panting. Both thugs now grabbed one arm each and Squall was of a mind to notice what was on his kitchen table. His stomach recoiled to a hard knot of fear. The small knife and his scissor lay beside the hammer used to flatten meat. That was Seifer’s.

The cold knot of fear in his stomach started to spread to his veins and head. What in Hyne did he need those things for? One thug slammed the youth’s hand down in the table but Squall couldn’t look away from the maliciously smirking platinum haired man.

Before the youth could quite register what was going on, the man had grabbed one hand and one finger. The sickening crack came before the pain did. As the pain registered in his numb brain a whimpering noise escaped him. Squall stared at his hand and the finger that was sticking out at such an abnormal angle. Then the pain truly hit him and nausea threatened to make him throw up. His sight started to tunnel and blink with spots. Was he fainting?

A sharp slap brought him out of the tunnel though. He was shaking with agony. Hyne above. It hurt so much. Not even the cracked or broken ribs hurt just that much. It was his left hand. Only his left hand, a little voice told him. A strangled sob escaped him before he realized it. The man was softly stroking a thumb across the back of the damaged hand. He slowly managed to grip another finger. Squall started trembling uncontrollably to the point where his teeth would clatter if he didn’t close his jaws.

“Don’t be so difficult kitten. Just tell me where that waste of air hides and we can go over to do some more pleasurable activates,” the man purred with an almost soothing voice.

“I don’t know,” he whimpered.

The resounding crack and agony made him scream and jerk in the chair. Hyne, hyne, hyne. He was sobbing and whimpering and trembling so badly he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand. Stop, Hyne stop. Not his hands. He needed his hands. The sadist managed to grip a third finger and Squall couldn’t stop himself from whimpering and moaning in mercy. He didn’t know! Why couldn’t the man understand?

“You don’t want me to start on your other hand too, do you? You’re and artist, right? You need these nice hands for work,” the man said in a soothing voice.

Yes damn it! Why the hell would Squall then lie?!

“I don’t know, damn it!” he cried and flinched at the pressure against the knuckle joint.

A cold sweat broke along his body in anticipation of that nerve-wrecking agony.

“Serano,” a deep, firm voice interrupted.

Squall looked up and relief washed through him. There in the kitchen entrance stood the blond. Green eyes where hard and he was dressed in a black, nice suit. Squall blinked and the relief slowly turned into confusion. He stared at the familiar face long and hard. The platinum haired man, apparently called Serano, stood up and backed away.

“Father…” he trailed off.

Father? Squall stared intently at the blond who slowly stepped closer while taking of black gloves and giving the younger man a walking cane Squall hadn’t noticed. Then those hard, cold, green eyes turned to Squall. He could only stare. This wasn’t Seifer. But yet his brain couldn’t quite stop thinking that it wasn’t, so alike where the men. The stranger sat down across from the stunned youth.

Squall forced himself to see past his wishful illusion. This man was not Seifer. He was not Seifer. This man… was older. He had fine lines in his face that Seifer hadn’t. His eyes…. His eyes made Squall want to curl away and hide. Those eyes were Seifer’s minus the emotional warmth. Minus the human.

The man calmly swiped the tools to one side of the table to have free room to reach across to Squall’s still pinned hand. The youth flinched and gave a noise as large but surprisingly gentle hands took his damaged hand. The hands had no calluses as Seifer’s did, but other than that there was a scary likeness between them. Who was this man?

Fear made him nauseous. Cold sweat ran down his back or was that water still in his hair? To an outside he would look pale and his eyes would be white-rimmed with fear. Logic said that this man was a relative to Seifer. His father?

“What’s your name boy?” the man asked calmly.

Even his voice had the baritone Seifer did. It made the hairs on Squall’s arms stand in unease.

“Squall,” he answered through a croak.

He was tensing up unbearably from the way those hands was stroking his.

“Squall…” The man rolled the name across his tongue.

As one hand encircled the two damaged fingers Squall made a desperate sound that almost was an audible plea. Then there was a sickening crack and pop and agony flashed behind his eyes. The youth panted and moaned in pain. The trembling in his body got new fuel and he couldn’t stop the clattering of his teeth or the tears that now started running.

As he was let to see he saw that the man had simply corrected the dislodged joints. It lessened the pain somewhat but instead a slow, aching throb started. Squall sobbed and twisted in the strong holds on him as a third so far untouched finger was gripped. Hyne, what would it take to make these men understand that he spoke truth? He was almost over come with panic at the pressure of the third joint.

“Squall,” the man said calmly.

The youth couldn’t stop twisting and whimpering.

“Look at me boy,” the man called again.

Calm and low but with a firm authority. Squall reluctantly obeyed and clenched his jaws and other fist in preparation for agonizing pain.

“Tell me where my run away brother is.”


Author’s Note:
You’ll give me a heads start before you try and hunt me down, right? I advice the lot of you to heed the warnings from here and on.