Following Orders

The guard actually smiled as he handed Oded the folded clothes along with the wash cloth and water. Oded was already carrying today’s supply of food and drinking water, and he refused to let his horror show as he shifted hands to accommodate the new burden. Whether he succeeded or not, the guard did not seem to notice.

“Perhaps today he will be more…talkative.” he said, nodding towards the door. “The others returned this morning. Since isolation seemed to be having no effect, they decided that the old ways truly are the best.” Oded acknowledged the words with a curt nod, forcing himself not to push past the guard and into the cell. It took him a moment to close the grille but he made certain it was locked tight. His previous mistakes weighed heavily on his mind, still wondering what would come of them, and he made certain that today, this was the first thing he did. Then he turned.

There was less blood this time, less bruising but the clothes had been torn from the prisoner once more, reduced to ragged scarps of material that had been strewn carelessly across the floor. Sayid reached out wordlessly, one trembling hand stretching towards Oded. Strangely Oded’s jacket was still with him, perhaps left in the hope that the insignia would taunt the prisoner, remind him of those who had so badly used him, and it was now wrapped around his shoulders. It left most of his lower body bare, and he had not been able to manage the buttons so it draped loosely about, but he huddled back into it as though the light material could give some kind of protection.

Oded dropped down by Sayid‘s side, ignoring the pain as the hard floor came into swift his knees, all but dropping the objects he carried. As soon as they were pushed away he took Sayid’s hands in his, waiting for some sign of what to do. Sayid trembled, his lower lip split once more, a trickle of dried blood making it’s way down to his beard. He let his head fall forward, hiding from sight behind his hair. Movements slow, careful, Oded put a finger under his chin, raised it, was met with a dead stare, eyes weary.

“They came again today.” Sayid said dully, as though speaking of events which had happened long ago, to someone else. Oded felt as though someone had stuck a knife in his chest, the sudden pain near-physical and almost enough to make him gasp. “So many of them.” Sayid continued in that same empty voice, watching Oded for a reaction. Oded took the hand away from his chin and he flinched, instantly cringing back. He recovered himself quickly, but the fear that had flashed across his eyes had stayed long enough for Oded to read it. He shook his head sadly, freezing in place, desperately trying not to spook Sayid any further.

“I would never hurt you.” he said in a low voice. He tried to make the promise soothing, hold reassurance the way his words sometimes seemed to hold the most effective of commands, and he watched as the other man relaxed, almost in spite of himself. “Please trust me, my friend.” Sayid nodded slowly.

“I do. Allah help me, but I do.” he tightened his grip on Oded’s hand as Oded stroked his hair, tucking it behind his ears to check his face for injuries. They were slight, a little bruising rising on his cheekbone, the cut on his lip, a scrape on his other cheek where it had been forced to the floor. Oded’s fingers traced lightly over each one, inspecting the extent of the damage. He followed his fingers with a dampened cloth, taking away the dirt, the blood, some of the pain.

“I am sorry. I had not known they would…” he stopped, unsure how he had meant to finish. Come back? Do this? Both were true, but he was not certain either needed to be said. Instead he concentrated on tending to Sayid’s face. He rested one hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. “The sooner you are clean, the sooner you can be dressed again.” he explained, beginning to slide the jacket down, leaving him naked. Sayid made no protests, simply watched as the jacket fell, and he nodded to show he understood. It had been hidden, partly by the collar of the jacket and partly by Sayid’s long hair, but Oded realised suddenly there was a bruise forming across the side of Sayid’s neck, the marks of long fingers curling around the front. He let out his breath in a hiss, and Sayid flinched once more.

“I tried…I fought them, Oded. I did not give in.” he raised his head, pulling together the last shreds of his pride to cover him.

“I know, my friend, I know. It is no shame to you that there were too many for you to win.” He cleaned the scrape on Sayid’s shoulder, on the same side as the one on his cheek. It trailed down onto his chest, and it took several attempts before it was free of the dirt and specks of stone from the floor.

It would do better bandaged, with antiseptic guarding it, but Oded did the best he could under the circumstances. Bandages were out of the question, would be noticed in an instant, but some sort of ointment, smuggled in as the orange had been…Oded made a note to see what he could steal, what would fit the situation.

“I am sorry.” he repeated, as he rested his hand once more on Sayid’s shoulder. “I need to examine your…other injuries. It would be easier to do so if you laid down, turned over.” He spoke quietly, and before he was finished Sayid’s left hand had clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm. Oded covered it with his own, easing the fist open, smoothing the hand out. “I would not ask if it were necessary, you know that. I do not want to hurt you.” Sayid nodded, a jerky movement. He began to lower himself to the floor. Oded quickly picked up the jacket, rolled it up and placed it down for Sayid to rest against. The prisoner tried to raise his arms to rest on them, and let out a small moan as he got them above shoulder height. Oded looked concerned and Sayid glanced up at him.

“They twisted my arms behind my back, to hold me in place.” Again he sounded utterly dispassionate, the sad telling of another’s story by a disinterested narrator. Oded wondered if they had even bothered to ask him questions today, had still pretended that this vile act was for information, and not purely for their own evil lusts. He lay down fully, his back to Oded, and Oded completed his task as quickly as possible, pretending not to notice the trembling than ran so violently through Sayid as the cloth travelled lower, clearing away all that could be. There was blood, bruises, tearing, everything he expected to find, but it was not as bad as he could be. Strangely, that was little comfort as Sayid whimpered, burying his face in the jacket to stifle the sound.

“Could you turn to your other side, please.” Oded instructed. It seemed easier if he was utterly clinical about everything. There would be time for comfort later, when Sayid was dressed, was less terrified of what every touch could bring. Now it was best to act as a doctor with a patient, and the thought was disturbingly ironic. He helped Sayid roll over, a brief touch to his cheek the only acknowledgement of the look that passed between them. “Help me.” Sayid’s eyes said, staring up at Oded with wordless sorrow. “I promise.” Oded answered just as silently.

He began to work the cloth over the narrow hips, over the fresh welts that tracked across the top of those that had almost healed, almost vanished from sight. But not from memory, never from memory, and Oded wondered how much more Sayid truly could endure. To sob and rant and rave would have been a better sign than the cold lack of emotion Sayid had shown earlier, and although he would not show it, Oded was almost pleased with the sight of the tears that rolled down Sayid’s face. They tore at his heart, each one a sign of just how much this man had endured, but they were also a sign of hope. To cry one had to feel, and the truly broken no longer felt, they simply endured. The tears were proof that there was still hope in this tiny room.

As had happened before, as the cloth travelled across his upper thighs Sayid flinched, ashamed of his body’s reaction to the touch. Oded finished his task as quickly as he could, making no mention of what he knew would only upset the other man further.

“It is over now, my friend.” he wondered whether to tell the prisoner that he had been brave would be patronising, and decided it was the kind of thing you told a child who had visited the doctor, and was not worthy of this man. He bit his tongue, helping Sayid to sit up. He held up the shirt, pulled it quickly over Sayid’s head. As the last one had been it was too long, and covered him to mid-thigh. “Can you stand?” he asked, kneeling up. Sayid looked at him for a moment, then nodded shakily. Oded helped him to his feet, holding him lightly around the waist as he swayed a little.

Once the prisoner seemed steady Oded knelt down once more, gathering the trousers so Sayid could step into them, pulling them up with the minimum of contact. Sayid gave him a grateful smile as Oded stood once more, arms out in case Sayid stumbled. The prisoner took a few short, hesitant steps, never moving too far from the larger man, waiting until Oded copied the movement to take a few more, reaching the other side of his cell. Back and forth, back and forth, and Oded was reminded of the jungle-cats caged at the zoo, of the way their eyes were haunted as they paced, watching through the bars the world that they could not touch.

Sayid stumbled, and quickly strong hands were on his waist, holding him up. For a moment he simply looked up at Oded, gasping for breath, and then he threw his arms around the taller man’s neck, burying his face against his shoulders. Almost immediately the tears came, and as they dampened his skin, as the slender body in his arms shook, Oded wished he had not hoped quite so fervently for them. To say “It is alright” would be an outright lie, to say “It will be alright” would be foolish optimism, so once more Oded held his silence, simply holding on. When Sayid let go his eyes were red but the tears had ceased, and he scrubbed away with remains with the back of one hand. He hesitated, as though expecting Oded to say something, but after a moment he sat back down, waiting to see what the other man would do.

“May I?” Oded asked, gesturing to Sayid, the wall behind him. Sayid nodded quickly, then coloured, shutting his eyes. Oded smiled softly at him, easing himself down behind Sayid, wrapping strong arms around him. Sayid half turned, pressed his face once more to Oded’s neck, the soft touch lips this time, more tears. But Oded was not fooled, and after a heartbeat Sayid dropped the pretence, wrapping his arms again around Oded’s neck, clinging on. Oded rubbed his hand up and down Sayid‘s too thin back, neither encouragement nor censure, simply holding. Again it was Sayid who pulled back, expression determined.

Today Oded did not ask, he simply held up the cup once it was filled. Sayid managed to take it, his grip firm, and this time it did not slip from his hand. But he glanced back at Oded, almost as though asking permission before beginning to drink. Oded nodded approvingly, then wrapped his arms around Sayid. This seemed to calm the other man, and it was not long before he held the cup out to Oded to be refilled. He had managed the food on his own yesterday, and today was the same, Oded holding the bowl for him as he ate.

The orange presented more problems, and Sayid hissed as the acid-juice trickled into the cut on his lip. He winced, licking it quickly away, and Oded looked a question at him, making to put the fruit away. Sayid shook his head quickly and Oded held the piece up again, wincing himself every time the other man did.

Silence descended as the food was finished, until Sayid twisted around in Oded’s arms.

“They will be back now, won’t they?” he asked, too calm for Oded’s liking.

“Unfortunately, yes.” he agreed. “They have more questions they wish you to answer, and since you did not crack under isolation, they shall return to their more usual methods.” Sayid took all this in, and nodded.

“But…you will be back also, yes? If they intend to break me to pieces then they must send someone to collect those pieces, put them back together. Am I correct?” Oded touched his cheek gently, avoiding the fresh graze, tracing over the unmarked skin with the pads of his fingers.

“I will be back, yes. I would not leave you now.” he admitted frankly. “But you have an interesting way of describing…” he waved his hand vaguely, encompassing the room with the gesture “this situation. Do you think they can break you to pieces?” he asked, deliberately not questioning the latter part of the statement.

“They will try, will they not?” Oded nodded sadly. He buried his face in Sayid’s hair, lips next to his ear.

“How much more can you take, my friend?” the words were a whisper, almost not meant to be heard.

“Are we going to keep asking each other questions to which we both know the answers?” Sayid replied, turning his face. He brushed his lips lightly over Oded’s, hissing at the sudden pain and pulling quickly away. Through the window overhead came the sound of marching boots, and Sayid glanced down at Oded’s watch. “Go.” he urged, and the sudden command startled Oded. He was about to query it when Sayid shook his head. “If you stay now, perhaps tomorrow you stay away.” he glanced at the door, eyes fixed beyond it on where the guard would be stood. “Go now. Go now and return.” Oded nodded, pressed his lips to Sayid’s hair.

“Whatever they do to you…” he began, and drifted off as Sayid’s fingers closed over his.

“…I know you are coming back. I will not break into pieces so small you cannot catch them.” Sayid promised, and with one last regretful smile Oded moved away from Sayid. He glanced down, saw the jacket on the floor. It was a little bloodstained, a little scuffed, but quickly he stripped off the one he now wore, switched the two. He handed the one he had just removed to Sayid, who clutched at the material gratefully.

“That one is…warmer.” Oded whispered as he rose to his feet.

For once, he managed not to look back. Today, he looked forward.