Through Their Eyes

[love_stripes]

Title: Through Their Eyes [Smuggled]
Pairing: Yoosu
Chapter: 2/?
Genre: Angst
Rating: R
Warning/s: Violence, Swearing
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: But imagine yourself... living in a place...

[Note: I stick to my previous warning, no promises. But I am going to roll with my sudden wave of inspiration while it lasts. So here is chapter 2. Comments welcomed.]

Isn’t liberty great?

You can… do what you want. Say what you want. Think what you want. Go where you want.

You have options.

But… imagine yourself…

--

Two police officers searched through the house as their supervisor watched, looking for anything that might indicate a fate different from the one they suspected for the missing fisherman and his comrades. Similar searches were being conducted at the homes of all those who had been reported missing, but the answer was already there, an enormous pink elephant in the room. As hard as they tried to ignore it, there was no doubt that the fishermen had been taken to North Korea. It did not happen often enough to be considered a frequent occurrence, but it was not at all unheard of either, and it was a very good explanation for the disappearance of an entire fishing crew and their ship. As such, the search served a second, less friendly purpose: to find evidence of a connection between the missing and the North, something to indicate their sympathy for the communist regime and desire to switch alliances.

The supervisor watched, expressionless, as his officers went through this particular man’s personal things. So far the only item of interest had been several semi-packed bags, indicating a visitor had also been staying with the man, and was also at this point considered missing. The ringing of the phone pulled the supervisor’s attention away from his men’s work.

“Officer Choi of the BaengNyeongDo Police speaking.”

“The police? I’m sorry, I’m calling to speak to my brother. What-?”

“May I know to whom I am speaking? Mrs…?”

“Mrs. Kim.”

“And your relationship to Mr. Kim?”

“I’m his younger sister. But, wait. Why are you-“

“And where is it that you are currently residing Mrs. Kim?”

“I live in Seoul with my family, but-“

“I’ll need you to give me your exact address Mrs. Kim.”

“My exact… Listen will you please tell me what’s going on? This is my brother’s home number. Why is it that I’m speaking to the police? Where is my brother? Where is my son?!” A pause.

“Your son, Mrs.?”

“Yes, my son. Kim Junsu. He is visiting his uncle for the summer. Please let me speak with him, I don’t know what all this is about but I just want to make sure that he’s-“

“I am afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you do that?! I know my son, there’s no way he’s gotten himself into trouble with the law, he simply isn’t like that. Now you put him on the phone this instant or you-“

“He is currently missing, Mrs. Kim.”

“…what…?”

--

Darkness.

Junsu had lost all sense of reality. He was still huddled with the other fishermen, but he had spoken hardly a word since the day they were captured. His first attempt resulted in him coming face to face once again with the barrel of a gun, and after that he’d kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t seen the light of day since the North Korean ship had docked and they’d been transferred to the back of a truck, let out only once after sunset and once in the early morning before sunrise to relieve himself. They were on the move in that same truck now, constantly jostled and jolted as the bulky vehicle traveled over roads that Junsu guessed were poorly paved if at all.

Silence.

He winced as yet another jerk aggravated his ankle. The small sprain he’d all but forgotten the day of his capture had grown sensitive and painful, made worse by the bad conditions. It had become swollen and bruised to the point that even the smallest of movements made Junsu grit his teeth. The truck swung left suddenly and his head whipped back, colliding with the wall and eliciting a whimper from the abused captive. It earned Junsu the nervous stares of the others, but none of their sympathy. There was not a single one of them who wasn’t hurting now.

Pain.

The car stopped abruptly and the sounds of the soldiers getting out, giving out orders, reached the ears of the men through the sides of the vehicle. Junsu tried to remember what time it was, tried to remember what day it was, but gave up quickly. Had it been a week? Two? The nightmare was never ending, the cruel and unusual punishments only increasing in number. His clothes were soiled, anything of value confiscated or broken in front of his eyes. His ankle pained him with every movement, and the lack of proper meals kept his insides in a constant state of discomfort. His throat was scratchy from disuse. He felt so tired of crying, so tired of fearing the soldiers’ reaction should they discover his tears.

Hunger.

The double doors to the back of the truck were swung open, flinging outward until they reached their limit and groaned in resistance. The brightness of daylight made all the men squint, but the soldiers paid no attention. Junsu, being closest to the doors, was grabbed first. He was pulled sideways from the truck in such a manner that he very nearly fell, his ankle screaming at him. His hands were tied, and he knew very well that his captors would be all too pleased to watch him fall on his face, if only because it would give them an excuse to shout at and threaten him again. He was made to wait for the others and took the chance to look around. It was easy to see why they were being brought out in daylight. They had reached some sort of military base. Guards stood everywhere Junsu could see, heavily armed and menacingly expressionless, all proudly serving their North Korean dictator.

Fear.

It took no time at all for one of their captors to decide Junsu had spaced out enough. He shoved him roughly, using his gun rather than his hands, and Junsu merely turned and walked where indicated, knowing it would be pointless to refuse. He had no doubt they would merely end up in one more cage. Although he was dying inside he kept his features blank, hiding the pain walking caused him, hiding the fear and the tears that wanted to fall so badly. What good would showing his weaknesses do? It was all he could do to keep up a strong front. If he couldn’t pretend to be strong, his weakness might really overcome him.

Cold.

Sure enough he and the others were filed down to the cold, concrete building’s basement and led into a cell, one of several in a hall lined on either side with the compact metal boxes - each barred and empty of anything but the bodies inhabiting it, and barely those. He and the others were put in their own cell, facing one that held several more men of various ages. A superior officer stood by watching, his uniform crisp and perfectly fitted, a smirk of contempt marring his ugly arrogant face. Junsu remained standing, his still tied hands hanging limply in front of him, his gaze cast on the shiny black shoes. What he wouldn’t give to be able to spit on them like in the movies. The door swung shut, the bolt locking into place with a resounding click-bang. Junsu felt his life had become nothing but a series of cages and locks - each one slightly different, but all of them cold, unrelenting, dark, and empty.

“Welcome to Pyongyang* you filthy bastards.”

The officer leaned forward until his face was as close to the bars as possible without touching them. “You’re traitors to your country now. Better suck it up, because they’ll never take you back.” His voice came out in a harsh whisper. He then pulled back and saluted. “Hail the great leader!” The other officers immediately followed suit.

“Hail the great leader!” They marched away, identical shiny black boots clicking in time against the concrete floor. Junsu waited until the sounds of the footsteps had faded. No one moved. No one spoke. Tears brimmed again in Junsu’s eyes, and he let his body fall back against the wall before sliding down to the floor. Home. While he could still remember, while he could still be sure that somewhere out there it existed, that this prison was the dream and not reality, he wanted to go home.

--

Junsu was sleeping fitfully, half leaned up against the wall with his body curled up to try and keep warm, when the sounds of mismatched footsteps accompanied by the familiar click clack of shiny black shoes roused him. He didn’t lift his head, but his eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness. At first his gaze stayed on the ground, watching the shoes approach, noting that one pair was not shiny, noting that someone else had been brought down to be caged. Slowly he lifted his gaze. He could barely make out the figure, but no doubt it was a young man, black hair hidden under a military cap. One of their own Junsu realized. And what had he done, Junsu wondered. But what had any of them done to deserve this? Who could ever do something bad enough to really deserve this?

The man came to stop just a foot away from where Junsu lay. The soldier reached up and tore the cap from his head. He kicked him in the back of the legs and the young man fell forward, landing on his knees with a painful sounding thud. He made no protest, letting his head tilt forward. At that angle, Junsu could just make out his eyes, one dull, dark brown, the other cloudy white. Blind.

A metal door screeched open. The eyes disappeared as the young man was literally kicked into the cell next to Junsu’s.

“To think you wanted to be a soldier. What use could you have ever been to the great leader? Enjoy your service reward, country trash.” The door creaked, clanged, clicked shut. The shiny black shoes click-clacked away. Junsu shut his eyes.

He dreamed of clouds.

--

The next day Junsu had all but forgotten his neighbor of sorts. None of the captured men spoke; they knew the guard was just waiting for a chance to lash out, bitter about having been given a lowly job like playing baby sitter in the dungeon. The hours came and went. When their one meal was served his neighbor was the only one who didn’t get rations.

“I think you’re fit enough to go hungry today. Maybe it’ll help remind you of who you really are.” Junsu could still remember the officers exact words. Nighttime found Junsu still slouched alone by the wall, close to the bars but far from the door. There was nowhere to hide from the guns, but the officers’ fists and shiny shoes couldn’t reach him there. Sleep tugged at his eyes but he kept himself awake, listening to the shifts in the others’ breathing, the snores - some soft, others loud - of both the captives and the guard. The noise merged and blurred into the background of his thoughts. It was to this symphony that he usually found himself able to sleep. He was not expecting the sudden whispered voice in the darkness.

“Hey.” Junsu would have jumped if he’d had the energy.

“What?” His surprise made him lose track of his own voice, and his whisper came out louder than intended, the first time he’d used it in weeks.

“Shhh. Reach your hands through the bars.” Junsu blinked. It took him a minute to figure out just who was speaking to him. He tried again, whispering quietly this time, his throat scratchy and dry.

“What?”

“Reach your hands through the bars.” Junsu frowned. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t even want to move. What if the guard heard? What if the guard saw? “I won’t bite for god’s sake. Look.” Junsu hesitated. Why was this guy talking to him? Glancing nervously around his cell Junsu carefully shifted into more of a sitting position, close enough now that he could peer through the bars. He couldn’t see far enough to look into the neighboring cell, but he could see the young man’s hands, bound like his own, stretching carefully out through the bars. Clasped gingerly between the rejected soldier’s fingers was a piece of peppermint candy. Junsu stared at it for a moment, confused and unsure.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“I have two pieces.” Came the eventual reply. “Plus it’s going to be a long time before you get the chance to eat something sweet again. If ever.” Junsu cringed at that thought and almost turned away. More seconds passed, and still the young man held out the candy. His hands had started shaking from the effort, but he didn’t move them. “Please take it. I have to do at least one thing I won’t regret before I die.” Junsu listened to the strained pleading sound in the stranger’s voice. He stared at the shaking hands. Lifting his own bound arms he navigated his wrists through the bars slowly, reaching as far as he could until his fingers brushed the other’s. The candy was pushed against his palm and he clenched his fist around it, pulling it and his hands back through.

“Thanks.” He said quietly. He looked at the candy, then pushed it into a pocket. They sat in silence for a little while longer. Junsu couldn’t help but wonder if he should hate this young man. He had been a soldier hadn’t he? He’d probably done plenty of things worth hating before he’d lost his status. Then again what did Junsu know anyway? Not a whole hell of a lot at this point, and certainly nothing about this foreign nightmare of a place or its people.

“How did you… get candy in a place like this anyway?”

“I had it on me when they grabbed me to bring me down here. I know you were listening earlier, so you know... I was training to be a soldier before this.”

“A soldier.” Junsu confirmed after a moment. Soldier. There were no soldiers here. Only monsters.

“So you’re from the South, huh?”

“From Seoul.”

“Seoul? They’re nabbing people all the way in Seoul now? That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“I was visiting my uncle on BaengNyeongDo.”

“…oh.” There was a pause, heavy with knowing. “So then he…”

“Was left behind dead on his boat.” Junsu answered coldly.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Sorry…” Junsu murmured, almost too softly for his neighbor to hear. Did that help? He wondered. Did sorry make it better? Did it lessen the pain? Did it lessen the anger? Sorry was just a word, yet in that ice box of a cell, alone and lost in a place Junsu knew only through history books, it was comforting even coming from the mouth of a rejected enemy soldier. Enemy. Was that what he was?

“And you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your hometown. Where are you from?” He hadn’t meant it, but his tone seemed to say ‘even someone like you has to have come from somewhere’. A strange sound reached Junsu’s ears then. A chuckle? But it held feelings too deep for that. Regret? Longing? Irony? In a world like this, Junsu was almost surprised to find the remnants of a real person behind the soulless soldier mask.

“Hometown? I wonder…”

“You don’t remember?” Once again there was silence for a time.

“Hoeryong*. I was born in Hoeryong.”

--

…living in a place…

--

* Pyongyang and Hoeryong [http://www.lonelyplanet.com/maps/asia/north-korea/map_of_north-korea.jpg]