The End is Never Final
folder
S through Z › SeaQuest
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
37
Views:
1,883
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › SeaQuest
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
37
Views:
1,883
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own SeaQuest DSV, and I do not make any money from this writing.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The gun points heavy at his back and, in his mind’s eye, he can just see how the bullet would cut into him, through him. Lucas doesn’t know a lot about anatomy, but he knows enough to make an intelligent guess that the bullet would not only hurt like a bitch, but would also leave more damage than their unequipped medical team could hope of dealing with. He sighs, long and deep, trying, unsuccessfully, to divert his attention from the gun.
He focuses on his Captain. Hudson’s face is unlined, as if he didn’t care if there was a gun pointed at a civilian’s back. Lips purse slightly, and Lucas suddenly hopes that it is in disappointment or anger. Thoughts race wildly through his head (We don’t get along, but he can’t let them kill me, right?); the flow so steady that it takes all his concentration to keep eye contact.
“You know, you can get the gun outta my back.” The tone takes on a sarcasm that he doesn’t feel. The defence mechanism that he berates himself for, certainly that his own social awkwardness can get that bullet flying through his skin faster than anything the Captain refuses to do, “I’m not going to go anywhere.”
Lucas is answered by yet another sharp jab with the gun, hard enough to leave his teeth cutting through both his lip and a cry. If the man behind him heard him, he gave no indication and the gun fitted itself painfully against his flesh. Another cry, unbidden, rises to his lips and, once again, his teeth shred the tender flesh of his bottom lip. In front of him, Hudson doesn’t flinch.
Another man enters the room, stops in front of Hudson with arms outstretched, as if there isn’t a gun pointed at a civilian right behind them, as if there isn’t an Engine Room full of injured or scared men and women. The arms envelop him and Hudson stiffens at the contact. Stiffens and looks Lucas full in the eyes.
“Oliver Hudson! The new Captain of the seaQuest, ja?” The hug is over, the hands that had been around him now rest on his shoulders, “My name is George Le Chein. There, now we know each other, no reason for you to be frightened. I won’t hurt the boy if you co-operate. I just need you to do something for me, something to help us so we can get off this sub. Everything can return to normal in just a couple of hours?”
“Normal?” Hudson snorts, “What about the people you killed? Is there a normal for them too?”
The gun jabs, once more, into Lucas’ back. A small cry breaks free and he can almost hear the trigger cock. (I’m going to die, I really am goingtodie). His world is reduced to the feel of the weapon against his back and the sound of his own heart thumping hard within his chest. It echoes unpleasantly in his ears and deeper within, his stomach clenches in panic, filling his bowels.
His eyes drop and a hand grasp his chin, forcing him to face his Captain, “It’d be a shame to waste such a pretty face.”
A mouth drops hard on his. The kiss is forceful, driving his clenched lips into teeth. The mouth moves; the other lips, already starting to stubble with a forming moustache, use the resulting pain to pry his mouth open. A silent cry is used against him, used to drive a tongue into him. He wants to cry out in protest, but he can’t. The tongue glides over his teeth, seeking his tongue. Nausea overwhelms him and even the taste of another can’t override the feel of vomit rising at the back of his throat.
Le Chein pulls away, leaving the younger man breathless and sickened, “I’ll humiliate him before he dies, Captain.” The last word holds enough contempt to cause a sharp inhale from Hudson, “He’ll beg for me to kill him.”
The gun jabs hard, a warning to stay silent. The conversation isn’t meant for him. Anger wells up within him, driving out the need to curl at his captor’s feet and wait for the ordeal to end, “Whatever it is don’t help him! He’s a monster! He’s a -”
A hand effectively cuts off the rest of the sentence even as the gun wedges into his flesh hard enough to leave him screaming into the barrier. In front of him, his Captain drops his eyes in defeat or in apology. Le Chein speaks; tone low and devoid of remorse. Lucas’ ears strain, but understanding doesn’t reach them.
He focuses on his Captain. Hudson’s face is unlined, as if he didn’t care if there was a gun pointed at a civilian’s back. Lips purse slightly, and Lucas suddenly hopes that it is in disappointment or anger. Thoughts race wildly through his head (We don’t get along, but he can’t let them kill me, right?); the flow so steady that it takes all his concentration to keep eye contact.
“You know, you can get the gun outta my back.” The tone takes on a sarcasm that he doesn’t feel. The defence mechanism that he berates himself for, certainly that his own social awkwardness can get that bullet flying through his skin faster than anything the Captain refuses to do, “I’m not going to go anywhere.”
Lucas is answered by yet another sharp jab with the gun, hard enough to leave his teeth cutting through both his lip and a cry. If the man behind him heard him, he gave no indication and the gun fitted itself painfully against his flesh. Another cry, unbidden, rises to his lips and, once again, his teeth shred the tender flesh of his bottom lip. In front of him, Hudson doesn’t flinch.
Another man enters the room, stops in front of Hudson with arms outstretched, as if there isn’t a gun pointed at a civilian right behind them, as if there isn’t an Engine Room full of injured or scared men and women. The arms envelop him and Hudson stiffens at the contact. Stiffens and looks Lucas full in the eyes.
“Oliver Hudson! The new Captain of the seaQuest, ja?” The hug is over, the hands that had been around him now rest on his shoulders, “My name is George Le Chein. There, now we know each other, no reason for you to be frightened. I won’t hurt the boy if you co-operate. I just need you to do something for me, something to help us so we can get off this sub. Everything can return to normal in just a couple of hours?”
“Normal?” Hudson snorts, “What about the people you killed? Is there a normal for them too?”
The gun jabs, once more, into Lucas’ back. A small cry breaks free and he can almost hear the trigger cock. (I’m going to die, I really am goingtodie). His world is reduced to the feel of the weapon against his back and the sound of his own heart thumping hard within his chest. It echoes unpleasantly in his ears and deeper within, his stomach clenches in panic, filling his bowels.
His eyes drop and a hand grasp his chin, forcing him to face his Captain, “It’d be a shame to waste such a pretty face.”
A mouth drops hard on his. The kiss is forceful, driving his clenched lips into teeth. The mouth moves; the other lips, already starting to stubble with a forming moustache, use the resulting pain to pry his mouth open. A silent cry is used against him, used to drive a tongue into him. He wants to cry out in protest, but he can’t. The tongue glides over his teeth, seeking his tongue. Nausea overwhelms him and even the taste of another can’t override the feel of vomit rising at the back of his throat.
Le Chein pulls away, leaving the younger man breathless and sickened, “I’ll humiliate him before he dies, Captain.” The last word holds enough contempt to cause a sharp inhale from Hudson, “He’ll beg for me to kill him.”
The gun jabs hard, a warning to stay silent. The conversation isn’t meant for him. Anger wells up within him, driving out the need to curl at his captor’s feet and wait for the ordeal to end, “Whatever it is don’t help him! He’s a monster! He’s a -”
A hand effectively cuts off the rest of the sentence even as the gun wedges into his flesh hard enough to leave him screaming into the barrier. In front of him, his Captain drops his eyes in defeat or in apology. Le Chein speaks; tone low and devoid of remorse. Lucas’ ears strain, but understanding doesn’t reach them.