Waiting in the Throes

Thanks for reading!  I always appreciate comments, good or bad, but I hope you like it!

A/N: This story evolved way past what I originally intended (these things happen) and as a result, the summary is not as accurate as I wish it were. Unfortunately, I can't edit the story description without losing all the associated tags and warnings (very important) or being able to properly summarize. So here is a more complete summary....

Brennan knows there is a world outside of his apartment, but he has been prisoner in his own home, since his abduction, unable to muster enough strength to venture outside or he would realize, not everything out there is as bad as it seems. Told in parts. Part One deals exclusively with the abduction and is not for the faint of heart. All I can promise is I'm a sucker for happy endings.

PART ONE

Remember when we were

Just flesh and bone

You sir may have forgotten how good your world can be

So, put down your hollow tips

to kiss your lovers lips

And know that fate is what you make of it

Please end this, please end this

Before this ends us, ends us, end us



I wanna stay inside

I wanna stay inside for good

I wanna stay inside

For good, for good, for good, for good , for good, for good, for good



I read the news today

And everything they say

Just makes me want to stay inside and wait

Better part of me knows

That waiting in the throes

Is on par with reading with my eyes closed

Please end this, please end this

Before this ends us, ends us, end us

- Agoraphobia by Incubus

Chapter 1: No Shelter

I knew every inch of the condo, the view from every window, the chip on the fifth tile in, third tile up in the kitchen backsplash, the patch in the carpet in the living room- though it was seamlessly repaired- from when my mom dropped the iron the first time she visited, the exact location of the chain lock on the front door. I once blind-folded myself every day for an entire week and wandered the apartment, touching everything, counting steps. What do you do when your world is so small that you know every inch of it? So small that the mundane stabs into you every day because you know there is something more, because not too long ago, you used to be part of that something. In my condo it would appear like I was being kept under glass, a delicate, precious thing, but I knew better. I kept myself here, a prisoner in my own home, unable to leave and face what was on the other side of the glass.

Everything started that night. It was the end of my first year of university, and it was just about the end of exams. I lived alone in a small one bedroom apartment in a building close to campus where a bunch of university kids lived. The building was all condominiums, and I was lucky enough that my parents had bought one, their reasoning being I could live in it through school, and they would rent it out or sell it when I was done. Some students had already moved out of their units, some were out partying, some, like me, were cramming for their last exam.

I went out because I hadn’t had time to shop between the last minute assignments and all the studying and my refrigerator housed only three day old pizza, half a container of milk, and condiments. I didn’t feel like ordering in pizza (again) so I decided to walk the couple of blocks to a local diner and grab something to eat there, stretch my legs a bit, and take a break from studying.

The night air was cool and crisp, and I could feel the faint tickling of mist, a settling dampness that could be rain, could be only fog. As I stepped outside of the building I caught the secured entrance door with my foot while I groped the pocket of my jeans to make sure I had remembered my wallet and keys. It was late for dinner- almost 9:00- but during exam time, this was early. I shoved the ear buds of my ipod into my ears and hit play, then started to walk. The route was so familiar- less than a fifteen minute walk to campus; the route I was taking now would take me straight to the diner, and if I continued on, to the school, all I had to do was walk two blocks, cut through George Howell park using the lightly wooded area, and I would emerge on Peter Street, one block away from the diner. If I walked another two blocks, I’d be at campus. Going around the park took twice as long- nobody ever did it- except for girls at night. Walking this route was so familiar; it felt like I was on cruise control.

My ipod, my lack of attention to what I was actually doing, my naive belief that people were inherently good, was what would spell the end of me. I crossed the park and emerged on the sidewalk just on the other side of the wood, on Peter Street, where there was a big delivery type van parked but running in one of the pay parking spaces. Some dude had a map sprawled out across the hood of the truck and was trying to read it in the gradually thickening mist. The guy turned around and gestured me over, and I pulled one ear bud out of my ear, my music still blaring in the other headphone.

“Hey man,” he said casually, “I’m really sorry to bug you, but the GPS died and I think my map is out of date. I was wondering if you could tell me where Beatrice Crescent is?” I walked up to the truck beside him, right next to the driver side door since he was closer to the front of the car. I knew of Beatrice, but needed the map- no matter how inaccurate- to jog my memory.  Rage Against the Machine blared in my right ear as I leaned over the map.

“Oh, no wonder you can’t find it,” I said after a minute of orientation, “you’re looking at the other side of town.”

“Oh, you don’t know where it is?” the guy said, “Not from here?”

“No, I know where it is now- I go to school here,” I said, glancing up. He wore a baseball cap, and under it, a mop of dark brown hair was trying to fit its way out from beneath. He looked normal enough. He wore navy work pants and a dark blue shirt- probably a plumber, or electrician or something. I studied the map for a moment- it wasn’t out of date too badly.

“It should be right here,” I gestured to a spot on the map in the lower right corner.

“Oh, okay cool, thanks man,” the guy said.

“No problem,” I replied, backing up onto the sidewalk again, and placing my dangling earbud back in my left ear. That’s when it happened. I just barely heard the slide of the van’s door and turned just in time to see a pair of arms reaching towards me from the interior of the van. I stepped back onto the sidewalk quickly, backing away from the hands, but the guy who had the map was right there- forcefully shoving me back towards the hands in the van.

Nobody would have seen me unless they were on the path in the wooded area of the park. The van was tall enough that it would block the view of anyone across the road. In the last seconds before the can door slid closed, I frantically scanned the park, but to no avail. My headphones detached themselves from my ipod in my pocket and my music was cut. Before even a sound of protest could escape my lips, the door heavily slid closed and I was enveloped in darkness. I wrestled with the person in the back of the van blindly, my eyes trying to adjust to the difference in light fast enough so that I could defend myself, but to no avail. The person gripping me was strong, but not huge. Muscular arms wrapped around my torso, my headphones popped out of my ears, and my arms were pinned down around the elbows. I was strong enough to throw myself towards the van door. Squirming, I wrestled one arm from my captor’s grip, attempting to grab at where I guessed the door handle of the van would be.

“Oh no you don’t,” a male voice growled, wrenching my hand away from its goal, twisting my wrist painfully.

“I will break your fucking arm,” the same voice hissed in my ear, breath warm, slick. He grappled with me again, pinned my arms down again and rolled us away from the door. With a sudden jerk, I felt the van begin to move and I found my voice.

“Help!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, thrashing as hard as I could, trying to throw the person off of me.

“Nobody can hear you,” the man holding me grunted, “so shut the fuck up!” I didn’t listen, kept thrashing around on the floor. The carpet scratched at the exposed skin of my arms, it smelled like machine oil. I felt nauseated, and my cries choked to a stop when I inhaled a particularly strong dose of the scent locked within the carpet and exploded into a coughing fit.

“A little help back here!” shouted the guy holding me, to his partner in the front seat.

“Fucking tie him now, while he’s not screaming” the guy in the front seat, I was pretty sure from the voice, the one I had given directions to, called over his shoulder. I couldn’t see where the noise was coming from though- they probably had the back of the van separated from the front by something. The guy holding me rolled, pushing me face down into the oil scented, rough as steel-wool carpet. One arm kept both of mine pinned, assisted by his weight, pushing me into the floor, his other was free to do what he wanted. I kicked my legs, clamped firmly together between his and bucked my head backward, satisfied when I felt the back of my scalp scrape against what had to be his teeth.

“Oww, fuck!” he cursed from behind me, he jumped up, relieving some of the weight on me, but before I could wriggle free from his grasp, a well aimed punch rocked my head to the side. It was enough to make everything stop, suspended in time- at least for me. The person on top of me, on the other hand, was not affected by the seemingly altered space-time continuum, and was now forcing my hands behind my back, tying them with rough rope. I felt dizzy, my vision darkening further from the edges, something I didn’t know was possible.

“You gonna be good, or are you gonna scream?” he asked, applying light pressure to my wrists against the small of my back as he leaned closer to my ear. I screamed, a feral like noise that startled even me, and I heard the familiar rip of a roll of duct tape before air and sound were cut off, the tape wrapped around my head, tight against my lips. I was just able to make out a crack of light- it was a curtain partitioning the front of the van from the back, when I heard the rip of tape again and my eyes too were taped closed. I tried to yell from underneath and duct tape gag, but only succeeded in making muffled noises. The person in the back of the van shoved me to the side and I did the only thing I could so, kicked with both feet out as hard as I could. They struck the side of the van with a loud, echoing metallic thud.

“Jesus Christ, do I need to come back there?” yelled the driver.

“I got em’” responded the second man, climbing on top of me in a position that allowed him to grab both of my ankles and wrap them in duct tape too. My face shoved into the carpet I kept inhaling the scent of oil stained, dirty carpet. I gagged underneath the tape, feeling my stomach lurch before the man finally got off of me. I could hear him relax against the side of the van, right next to my prone body, breathing heavily.

“Everything good?” the driver called back. Then, unbelievably, the man beside me started to laugh, the asshole laughed.

“Yeah, we’ve got a bucking bronco back here,” he joked. But my fight was gone. My arms were wretched painfully behind me, and the only position even remotely comfortable was on my side, face mashed against the dirty carpet. They had me, and this was not a joke. The only thing I could do now was bide my time and try to figure out where we were going. My heart rose into my throat, knowing all I had on me was my keys and wallet. My only choice was to try and figure out where we were going so that when I had the chance, I could run. The man beside me sighed, and then I felt the weight of his legs as he propped them up on my hip, keeping me pinned between him and the floor of the van. I groaned, my hips protesting under the added weight and he snorted.

“That hurt?” he asked, knowing I could not answer with anything but a muffled sound under the gag. I stayed quiet as we drove, counting lefts, rights, long stops that indicated stop lights and major intersections. We drove what felt like hours- twists and turns and stops until the unfamiliar- gravel and dirt roads until we hit pavement again and the car slowed to a stop. I had no idea where we were, not even a vague sense of north or south of the city or school.

“Think he’ll behave enough to walk?” the guy in the front seat called. We were getting out of the van. I didn’t make a sound that could be interpreted as a protest, instead just lay still on the floor. If I stayed still, they would free my legs, and I could take my chance and run. My heart pounded when the ignition of the van sputtered to silence.

“Yeah, he’s calmed down,” the guy with me called. He lifted his legs off of me and I heard him moving around. He grabbed me by the arms and pulled me into a sitting position, shifting me to sit against the passenger wall of the van.

“I’m going to undo your feet,” the man said firmly, “think you can behave yourself? Nod or shake your head.” I nodded fervently, this was my only chance, if I didn’t comply now, I wouldn’t have a hope of escape. I heard the van door slid up and the guy who had been in the back of the van got out. He reached in the grabbed me by the ankles, pulling me roughly so that I fell backwards. My arms protested at the sudden burden of my weight and I twisted to relieve it. My legs dangled outside of the van for only a moment before they were picked up and I felt the sudden release as the tape holding my ankles together was cut. My heart pounded in my chest, the tape was still over my eyes, my hands were still bound. I had to wait for the perfect moment, though I couldn’t wait too long, I had to at least be out of the van. Two sets of hands reached in, pulled me from the van and to a standing position, and linked an arm in each of mine. We started to walk, the two men flanking me dragging me along, walking faster than me. Maybe we were in a place where I could still be spotted by someone?

After counting to ten, making sure we were far enough from the van, I threw myself forward, like you did when you were a kid and wanted to get through the linked arms of your friends while playing “Red Rover” and managed to free myself from the grasp of one of the men, the other’s grip loosened, but did not release. I wrestled violently, yelled under the gag, and with one rough turn, ran in the opposite direction of where I was being lead. Maybe it would lead to a road. I was on a smooth surface- a driveway maybe- but it was long, as I ran it felt more like I was in a parking lot. I ran, unsteadily, tripping, but thankfully not actually falling, then, gravel- a dirt road, and just as the toe of my sneaker touched it, I was tackled to the ground, my face grinding into the gravel road, skin tearing open on my cheek, one of the few places not covered my duct tape.

“Calmed down eh?” the man holding me shouted at the other person. I frantically wrestled and rolled on the ground. This was my only chance, I wouldn’t get another, once they got me to their destination I was as good as dead- I knew that much from all the “stranger danger” talks in childhood, even the fictional crime shows on television. If I didn’t get up and run now, I was going to end up in pieces in a river, or discarded in a dumpster. I squirmed while both my captor and I struggled to a standing position, as he grappled to get a hold of me, I readied myself to run and just thrown myself forward once again when I was met with a blow to my stomach so hard I bent double and fell to the ground. Another blow to my torso, so violent it knocked the wind out of me. I was being kicked, over and over with a steel toed work boot. I couldn’t get the breath to scream, couldn’t shield my face, but the person stopped after about the fifth or sixth kick.

“What the fuck Al?” the other guy, the one who had tackled me, cursed. A name, I had a name for one of them.

“Relax, he’s fine- I just knocked the wind out of him,” the man- Al- responded. I heard the crunching of gravel under boots as he crouched down in front of me, inches from my face, “I thought you said you were going to behave?”

Both men pulled me to a position resembling standing and dragged me to my fate.