Fic: Believe (part 4/5 + Epilogue)

[kribban]

Title: Believe

Pairings/Characters: Jon/”Stephen”, Steven Crowder, Jessica, Sam, OCs
Rating: For Mature Audiences/R

Warnings: kidnapping, angst, mind control, minor violence, background major violence and death.

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

For this Secret Santa prompt:

Characters/Pairings: Jon/"Stephen", author's choice of correspondents
Prompt: Someone (an old rival? an archnemesis?) kidnaps "Stephen" for nefarious purposes. Jon must lead a crack team of correspondents to the rescue.
Niche: team!fic, hurt/comfort

Very sorry for the long delay!

Links to previous parts: 1 2 3



Jon slipped down the stairs as quietly as possible. The first and second floor were both empty. If Steven Crowder was still in the building, he was in the basement.

The building was one of the new ones that had been put there to store boats and other boating equipment, but hadn’t been taken into use yet. It was the perfect location for someone to hide in plain sight.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard the muffled sound of human voices. He pressed himself against the wall and looked around the corners.

The door in front of him was windowless and made out of pressed steel. It was impossible to tell if it was locked or not. The front door had been but it had been no match for Rick’s master key. If Crowder was behind that door, Jon might not have the chance to pick the lock. Sure, it was silent, but he couldn’t count on Crowder to keep his back turned towards the door for the precious seconds it would take to open it. On the other hand, if it was locked… he would most certainly lose the element of surprise.

Jon made a split second decision. Sticking his lockpick in his pocket, he raised his stun gun and pushed down the door handle. The door swung open inwards, but before he had a chance to fire, the gun was wrenched out of his hand. He lunged forward, putting all his weight behind his shoulder. They tumbled down on the floor.

The other man was stronger and quicker, but Jon had the advantage of being prepared to fight. He got in a good kick, and tried to reach for the stun gun. Adrenaline surged through his veins.

He screamed.

A hard fist punched him in the stomach and the air was knocked out of him. He tried pulling himself up, but it was too late. The other man, Crowder, was standing a few feet away, stun gun pointed towards him while clutching his side with one hand.

“Fuck! That hurts!”

Jon kept still and tried to ride out the seconds until he could breathe again. He had had the wind knocked out of him a few times while playing soccer, but he had forgotten how utterly debilitating it was.

Through his tears he could see Crowder, still clutching his side and wincing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not understand how to follow directions? Luckily for you I was able to finish! If you had interrupted me ten minutes ago he would be a permanent drooling vegetable!” He pointed toward the middle of the room. Jon turned his head and looked in the direction that Crowder had pointed.

There, on a chair with his hands behind his back was Stephen. It took a few seconds for Jon to realize that Stephen was conscious because he was so unnaturally still. His blood shot eyes were open but fixed on some point far in the distance.

Jon turned back to Crowder and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “If you hurt him, I will fucking kill you!”

Crowder pointed the stun gun towards Jon as if to threaten him not to get up further. “Does he look hurt to you? A bit confused maybe, but losing your moral clarity will do that to you. I think the two of you will have a lot to talk about.”

A soft croaking to his side made Jon turn his head towards the sound.

Stephen’s gaze was now trained on him. He was crying constantly, but quietly, almost like he wasn’t aware of it. “Why did you keep the truth from me?”

The torment in his voice almost floored Jon. He deliberately kept his even. “What are you talking about, babe? I never kept anything from you.”

“The truth… Everything I believed was a lie. Jon, how could you stand to be around me?”

Jon racked his brain for information on how to act. He had read the reports, but it was eight years ago, and there’d been a hundred different news stories since then. Stephen seemed to be holding it together fairly well, but then again, there was no telling how much of Stephen was left…

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Crowder smirking. When he got his hands on that son of a bitch he was going to make him suffer.

“I think you’re very upset right now, Stephen, and that’s keeping you from seeing things clearly.”

Stephen shook his head. “You’re wrong! For the first time, I see everything perfectly clearly.”

Crowder made a little gesture with the stun gun as if to encourage Jon to keep up the show he was enjoying. When Jon kept quiet, his grin melted away.

“So, here we are at last. Little old me and the famous Jon Stewart. Only this time he has no secretary to screen his calls for him.”

Jon leaned back, shifting the weight to his hands to give his knees a brief reprieve. “What is it that you want, exactly?”

Crowder didn’t respond immediately. He flexed his trigger finger and took a deep breath, as if he was scrambling to figure out how to deal with the sudden change of plans. After a few seconds he took a miniscule step towards Jon. “I want you to stop ignoring me! I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?”

Jon clenched his jaw. “So why hurt Stephen? He’s done nothing to you!”

Crowder’s eyes burned brightly. “The best way to get your attention was to hit you where it really hurts. And it worked, didn’t it? This will keep you busy for a while.” He nodded his head in Stephen’s direction. “Unless you decide to cut your losses and ship him off to a care facility.”

Jon figured it would take him at least two seconds to pull himself up into a standing position and throw himself at Crowder. Two seconds was far too long until he could start beating the shit out of this motherfucker.

Beside him Stephen was whimpering. “You - you don’t have to send me away. I’m like you now… I’ll be good!”

He closed his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s lying to you.”

“I … I don’t think he would lie. He’s the one who showed me the truth. But I’m your equal now, Jon. You don’t have to send me away!”

Jon would start with breaking Crowder’s nose. The fingers would probably be next to go. He took a deep breath, tried desperately to keep his voice steady.

“You have always been my equal, Stephen.”

If there had been any doubt in his mind that his boyfriend had been subjected to Counter Thought, it was now gone. Stephen seemed inconsolable and unable to believe what Jon was telling him.

“You’re lying! What did you really think of me all these years? What did you say to your friends behind my back?”

“Nothing! I said nothing! Stephen, I’ve always respected you. You know that.”

Crowder seemed to make up his mind about what he was going to do. He started walking over to where Stephen was sitting, keeping the stun gun still trained on Jon.

“He really doesn’t understand, does he? What it was like for you all those years.”

He put his free hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “He doesn’t understand how misunderstood and belittled you felt. He probably didn’t even try to.”

Stephen shook his head. “He doesn’t understand me. I want him to understand me.”

A cruel smile played on Crowder’s lips. “You can make him understand.”

Stephen looked up, beautiful brown eyes plagued by confusion. “You mean…?”

Crowder turned his gaze away from Jon long enough to wipe the tears off from Stephen’s cheeks.

“Let’s use the device on him. Let’s make him see what it was like for you.”

Stephen’s eyes widened and he started squirming against his restraints. “Let me help! I want to help!”

Bile welled up in Jon’s throat. Every muscle in his body felt suddenly numb. For a terrifying second it felt like he couldn’t breathe or swallow and he wondered if he would die like that, choking on his own vomit.

The paralysis only lasted a few seconds. As soon as he felt the blood returning he braced his feet against the floor and hoisted himself up into a standing position.

“Hold it!”

Crowder was standing only a few feet away. The tip of the stun gun was pointed directly at Jon’s face, menacing in its plastic simplicity. It wouldn’t injure him to get hit, but it would incapacitate him long enough for Crowder to restrain and drug him. Especially if… especially if he had Stephen’s help.

Jon put his hands up. “All right, sir. No need to use that thing.”

“Back up.”

He took two steps backwards which gave him a better view of Stephen. He was still sitting on the chair, but hunched over like he was in pain.

Crowder nodded in his direction. “Hey, Colbert! Get over here and help me tie him up.”

“I can’t.” Stephen’s voice was pained. “My arms hurt. I can’t move them.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not lying! When you’re tied up for an extended period of time your arms go numb. You have to rub them to get the blood back in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Crowder turned to Jon. “You do it.”

Jon kept his hands perfectly still. “Do you want me to go to him, or should I wait for him to come to me?”

Crowder seemed to mull this over for a few seconds. “Go to him.”

Jon took the few steps over to the chair and sank down on his knees in front of it.

He had to fight the urge to put his hands on Stephen’s face, to hold his hands and kiss his lips.

He had imagined the moment of their reunion to be triumphant, but now he was just scared. This wasn’t a reunion. This was a life-or-death situation.

“Going to start with your right arm, okay?”

Stephen nodded meekly and didn’t say anything as Jon rolled up the white shirt sleeve.

He had done this a dozen times before; massaged some part of Stephen’s body after a stressful day or strenuous activity. But now it was different. The man under his hands was a stranger, quite possibly an enemy.

The drugs must have caused Stephen to run a fever because the skin felt warm to touch. Jon found the hard muscle and pressed his thumbs into it.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Stephen looked down at him from under thick eyelashes. “You’ve never cared about hurting me before. No need to start apologizing for it now.”

Jon quickly worked his way up to the shoulder, massaging the arm with circular movements. “You know that’s not true.”

Stephen had turned his head away. The confusion brought on by the drugs seemed to slowly be giving way to anger. He was no longer crying.

“Of course it is. Don’t pretend that you’ve ever cared about me. The only reason you were with me was because it made you feel good about yourself.”

Were. Past tense.

Jon let go of the arm and shifted on his knees until he could easily reach the other one. He rolled up the sleeve and began the same procedure; press, squeeze, rub. Behind him he could hear rustling and the sound of shoes scraping on the floor.

“You’re going to have to explain your line of reasoning, Stephen, because I don’t think I get it.”

Stephen had turned his head back when he wasn’t looking. His eyes were perfectly clear now.

“Really, Jon? Are you telling me that those expensive therapy sessions never clued you in on the fact that you’re self-righteous? That you have a constant need to feel superior to your peers: more patient; more tolerant, more open-minded?”

He spat out the last couple of words as if they were curse-words. Any sign of the grief he had displayed not moments ago was gone.

“You have always felt superior to me. In every damn way. That’s why you kept the truth from me. You didn’t want me on your level. You wanted me dumb and worthless so that you could pat yourself on the back for putting up with me. That’s why you never took me seriously. That’s why you never let me make any decisions! Not even about something as small as picking a restaurant!”

Jon let go of Stephen’s arm like it was burning. He sat back on his heels. “That’s not-“

Stephen slapped him. It was sloppy but hard; the slap of someone who had bad motor skills but the anger to make up for it. Jon instinctively put his hands up, but that didn’t stop Stephen from grabbing the neck of his T-shirt and pulling.

“You son of a bitch! You’re not even serious about rescuing me! My kidnapper could have been armed with guns or knives and you didn’t even bring a real weapon to defend me!”

For a moment, Jon felt like he was suffocating and then the hands were pulled away.

When he had recovered enough to stand up, he saw Crowder behind Stephen, holding his forearm in a firm grip. He looked displeased.

“I see you’ve regained the full use of your arms. Now quit stalling and tie him up.” He shook the hand holding the stun gun. “Or you get a shot of this, too.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

Crowder’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Jon tried to steel himself. This was going to hurt like a motherfucker. “Because there’s only one shot in it.”

The distance between them was only a couple of feet, but it felt like it took several seconds to cross. He barely had time to see Crowder’s shocked reaction before he was overcome by searing pain.

Every muscle in his body contracted. His stomach convulsed. He didn’t scream because there was nothing he could scream with.

There was a loud thud as his body fell to the floor. He couldn’t breathe. There was nothing beyond this. Nothing.

And then it ended.

The plastic gun made a soft fizzling sound and then there was a crack and a thud.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, but he could move again, and he pulled himself up on shaky legs, ready to fight until his strength ran out.

There was no one to fight.

Crowder was lying on the floor. His hands were clutching the back of his head and he was moaning softly.

Stephen was kneeling beside him, holding what looked like strips of plastic in his hand. The skin on his knuckles was scratched. It was obvious he had used the element of surprise to his advantage. He slammed his knee against Crowder’s upper back.

“I said stay down!”

Jon forced himself to take several deep breaths. He couldn’t make a run for it. Running up three flights of stairs was a rough workout even on a good day but now it would be impossible.

Whatever Stephen’s next move was, he would have to face it head on.

Stephen was now standing, apparently confident that he had adequately restrained his captor. His eyes caught sight of Jon, almost as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Jon didn’t have time to put his hands up before Stephen was on top of him. His knees buckled under the weight and the two of them sank to the ground. He braced himself for being hit.

Stephen’s hands were all over his stomach and chest and the back of his head, but Jon soon realized that the palms were open and the fingers were flat. Almost as if…

He cleared his throat. “I’m not injured. I’m okay.”

Stephen let out a whimper and wrapped his arms tightly around Jon, breathing hotly against the side of his neck.

“I knew you would come! I didn’t mean any of the horrible things I said. I’m so sorry. Jon, please forgive me!”

Jon brought his hands up to rest on Stephen’s shoulders. The vibrations were strong enough for his hands to shake slightly. He pushed gently until his boyfriend’s beautiful, tear-streaked face was turned towards his own.

“There is nothing to forgive. You saved us both. You are very brave, and whatever…” There was no telling how bad the damage was or how different Stephen would be from now on. All he knew was that it couldn’t possibly matter. He cupped Stephen’s cheek gently. “Whatever you’ve changed your mind about, we’ll find a way to deal with it. We’ll work it out together. Okay?”

Stephen looked puzzled for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I’m still me! I don’t know why, but it didn’t work! I’m still me, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Jon’s breath hitched in his throat. “We should get you to a hospital as soon as possible. Do you remember Richard Coleman, our security chief? He’s parked a block away. I’ll call him and…”

Stephen pulled Jon’s hand off his face with an irritated sigh. “I’m telling you I’m fine. The doctors can test me and - “ He fell silent as his eyes were caught on something in his lower field of vision. He was completely still, staring at whatever it was that had caught his attention. Jon’s instinct was to shake him.

“Stephen, what’s wrong?”

The sound of his voice seemed to snap Stephen out of his reverie. He tugged on the hem of Jon’s T-shirt with a look of disappointment on his face.

“That’s not what you were going to wear to Pecoral, is it?”

Jon laughed shakily. He could feel a blush coming on. “I had a blazer, and uh, I would…”

He was so focused on Stephen and his own sense of relief that he didn’t notice Crowder until he was standing over them. The next moment his fist had connected with Stephen’s face. Jon scrambled to get up, but it was too late. He was grabbed by the throat and hauled upwards. His air supply was cut off.

“Stay down!”

Jon’s head was tilted upwards so he couldn’t see the room, but he heard Stephen respond.

“I am, I am! Please don’t hurt him.”

The pressure eased on Jon’s throat and was replaced by cold, hard steel. He was suddenly able to tilt his head down enough to see that Stephen was on his knees, cradling his nose.

“You got one thing wrong, Colbert. I do have a knife. Good for cutting through restraints and for cutting up liberals. Try anything fishy and the boyfriend gets it, okay?”

The tip of the knife was pressed against Jon’s skin for emphasis. It didn’t feel like it drew blood but he didn’t exactly have enough experience with being stabbed to know for sure.

“You lost me my manager, Stewart. You humiliated me.”

Jon swallowed a hysterical giggle. Was he supposed to respond to this?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. I can get you better representation.”

“It’s too late for that now. There won’t be much left of you when I let you go. Colbert!”

Stephen snapped to attention. His nose was bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be broken. His hands were clasped in his lap as if he needed to restrain himself.

“The hypospray is on the table. Bring it to me without touching the handle. And this time, don’t fuck around.”

Crowder sounded deadly serious, but Stephen made no motion to get up. He stared straight ahead, as if he was trying to avoid looking into Jon’s eyes. He shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

The fingers around Jon’s throat tightened again and just when he thought Crowder would try to choke him to death there and then the pressure eased up again.

“I’m not kidding around! I will kill him, do you get it? You either do as I say or get to watch him bleed to death right on this floor.”

The violent imagery did nothing to hide the nervousness in his voice. Jon took a deep breath and focused; on the sweaty hand around his throat, the labored breathing in his ear and the slight vibrations that meant his attacker was trembling.

He was either deathly excited to get to the murder part, or…

“You’re not supposed to kill us, are you?”

The tip of the knife was pressed into Jon’s skin again. “I’m serious.” The note of fear in Crowder’s voice was much more evident now that he knew to look for it. “I’ll do it. I’ll cut you.”

“In that case you should get it over with. I’d rather die than have my soul ripped out and Stephen knows it. He won’t help you.”

Stephen flinched, but remained seated. Jon tried to read his face for clues on how Crowder was reacting but the only thing he was getting off of him was resolve and fear.

Crowder swallowed loudly close to his ear. “You’re bluffing.”

“I think you’re the one who is bluffing, and I’m calling it. You can either let us go, or you can kill us. Those are your only options.”

He sought out Stephen’s gaze. This was it, the end of the line. Either he was right or these were the final moments of his eventful life. If that was the case, he wanted Stephen to be the last thing he would see.

“There is a third option.”

He and Stephen turned their heads at the same time. Rick was standing in the doorway, holding his gun with both hands in the grip that Jon knew was meant to keep it steady.

“You can get shot by me. I guarantee it will be painless.”

Jon wanted to cry in relief. Crowder was trembling so hard that the grip around his throat was slipping.

“Don’t you see I have a knife to his throat?” He spat out the question but it was clear that he was the one fearing for his life. “If you shoot me, he’ll die.”

If it hadn’t been for the gun in his hands, Rick looked like he was having a pleasant conversation with a friend.

“That’s not how it works,” he said calmly. “If I take the shot you’ll be dead before you move your hand. You won’t even twitch.”

Jon could hear Crowder gasping as if he was suddenly picturing himself dead.

“Have you made up your mind?” Rick asked gently.

The hand was removed from Jon’s throat so fast that he stumbled. He was pushed forward and sank to his knees in the same moment that he heard the knife clatter against the floor.

Stephen’s arms were suddenly around him, holding him up so that he could let his body go limp and heavy.

He turned his head and saw Rick’s lips form the ghost of a smile.

“That was the first good decision you’ve made today.”