Die alive [fic]
Title: Die alive
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Jack/Gray
Warning(s): Incest. Rape.
Word Count: 2226
Summary: There's nothing Gray won't do for revenge...
A/N: Written for karaokegal's Come as you're not party. I feel unclean.
“How does it feel?” Gray asked.
Beneath him Jack was breathing heavily, looking helpless and wide-eyed. Gray smiled at him and planted a boot firmly on Jack’s chest, pressing down with all his weight.
“I said,” he began languidly amid Jack’s coughs and stutters, “how does it feel? You can still feel, can’t you? I had some difficulty with the ingredient quantities my first few tries.” Gray sank into a crouch by his brother’s head and slowly, carefully drew out his knife. “I’d hate for you to be paralysed while we do this.”
Jack wet his lips. “You know whatever you do to me isn’t going to matter,” he said, steady voice purely for show. “I’ll have been through worse at some point.”
“You ever wonder why that is?” Gray asked, after a moment’s pause, shifting to straddle Jack’s chest. Jack turned his head away. “How you end up ruining so many people? Hm?” He jabbed roughly at Jack’s cheek with the knife. Jack’s eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t flinch.
Gray leant in close, breath stirring Jack’s hair. “Is there anyone you haven’t managed to drag down?” he asked, his curiosity in part genuine.
Jack’s jaw clench with effort to remain silent and stoic. Gray laughed low and harsh.
“Won’t you even try and fight back?” he asked. Even after Gray had injected him Jack had only made a few token struggles to ensure he landed face-up as his legs gave way. It amused and infuriated Gray that whatever he would say to him, whatever he would do to him, Jack would just lie there and take it.
Jack’s eyes cracked open and stared guilelessly up at him. “You know why.” Not an accusation, but world-weary resignation and something like dismissal. Of the question, Gray decided, though the anger blossomed nonetheless.
Because that was the thing; anything Gray did to Jack - anything Jack lay back and allowed Gray to do to him - Jack took as penance, one step closer to payback or redemption or breaking even or whatever it was in his head. For his brother’s sake it had better not have been the latter; even if Gray were to join his brother and live from now until the end of everything there was no way they’d ever be able to break even. Ever.
Gray shifted further down, trying his knife against his brother’s throat. He went stone still. For a moment Gray was sure that he had even stopped breathing.
“You know something?” he said, and for the way he had his brother pinned down like this the silence seemed all the deeper somehow, like they were sat together in the eye of a storm, helplessly awaiting the devastation. “You know something? I don’t remember what your name is.” And for a moment his eyes looked so lifeless. Anyone could shove a knife into his gut, or murder his friends, or bury him alive. But no one else could make him look like this, Gray was sure. He alone could kill him like this. And he loved it.
“I’ve tried to remember,” he went on. “I just lost it one day. When they came for me…” He had to shut his eyes for a moment to focus himself again. Upon opening his eyes to Jack’s pitying look he pushed the knife closer. “You lasted longer than Mum or Dad. Because you were more important - I loved you most.” He twisted the knife ever so slightly, received the smallest trickle of blood in return. “Tell me their names.”
Jack swallowed. The trickled thickened. “Dad was called Franklin. Mum sometimes called him Frank, and Grandma would call him Linnie.” He looked up at Gray, terrified and hopeful. “Remember? You remember that?”
Gray twisted the knife again. “What about Mum? What was her name?”
Jack’s eyes had misted over, old tears come back to haunt him. “I begged him to come with us. He never would have lost you -”
Gray’s other hand snapped over Jack’s throat and squeezed. “Mum. What was her name?”
“She w-” It took Jack a moment to recover from the coughing, but Gray did not remove the knife, or his hand. “She was Tähli. And you - you were her favourite. Light of her world.”
Gray considered this and almost smiled. “She blamed you too, didn’t she?”
Jack’s eyes sank closed. Gray didn’t bother to prompt him. “She wouldn’t even look at me,” Jack breathed. “Not for the longest time.”
For some reason this didn’t satisfy Gray. Not the way it should have. He tightened his grip again. “And you? What’s your name, hm?” Jack tried to look away again. Gray wrenched his face back toward him. “Come on. What am I supposed to call you?” Keeping the knife where it was, Gray pushed his other hand down his brother’s throat and on to his chest. “Jack won’t do. Jack doesn’t suit you. That’s just something you’ve picked up along the way, isn’t it? Something to hide who you really are.”
He jerked his body down against his brother to prove his point.
The strangled gasp that burst from his big brother’s mouth came as something of a shock. Apparently to his brother as well, if his expression was anything to go by.
Gray stared down at him. Then, after a moment, the shock cleared. He drew the knife away and laid it down, instead planting a hand either side of Jack’s head.
“Gray…?” suddenly the terrain wasn’t so familiar and Jack sounded almost afraid. Gray licked his lips, heart thrumming in his ears. He pressed down against Jack and thrust again. Jack near choked from trying to keep the noise he made from getting free.
“Gray,” he gasped, and Gray hoped it was arousal making his big brother’s voice catch just so, hoped harder than he’d hoped for anything before. He did it again, stomach twisting in sick delight as Jack again tried and failed to keep silent, a broken little noise sliding past gritted teeth.
“Stop. Gray, please - just stop.” He was actually trying to move his hands now, his legs too, his head turning from side to side desperate for any sign of movement. He was rewarded with only a stuttering stillness of his limbs.
Gray picked up the knife again and set it against his neck. It didn’t halt him instantly like it did before, though, and a line of blood trailed darkly down his throat. He froze staring up at Gray, their mother’s blue eyes and their dead father’s features set in a look of slow horror.
Gray ground down again, trying to ignore the hideous little shudder that crawled up his back.
“Gray.” He actually recognised that tone - not his brother’s voice, but his father’s, grabbing the two of them by the scruff of the neck and jerking them back into line. And however much they’d both grown up since then, Jack still sounded like the twelve-year-old big brother trying to play the parent and boss him around. “Stop this. Now.”
There was a small part of him that wanted to heed him, for all that he hated him - even if they ended up in trouble it had always paid off to play along with Jack. He thought up the best games. Right now his commanding tone was at odds with his expression; concerned and fearful.
Not afraid of him, but for him.
If Gray had ever had any doubts, that decided him.
He leant down again. “Y’know,” he said, licking his lips again (and how Jack flinched when Gray’s tongue brushed the corner of his mouth), “I don’t think I will.”
He dropped the knife again, grabbing Jack’s face with both hands and kissing him in a very, very unbrotherly fashion.
Jack moaned in what was unmistakably revulsion, trying to tear away from him, but Gray’s grip was too strong. He bit at Jack’s lips until he drew blood and when Jack finally opened his mouth tangled his tongue with his brother’s. It was barely a kiss, more a crash of lips that ended only when Jack began choking in earnest. Gray licked the blood, holding Jack’s head in place when he became difficult, while he pulled at Jack’s shirt. It gave way after a few tries and Gray bit into the skin.
His hands dragged down to Jack’s waist and paused, hooking on his belt. Looking back at Jack’s face he realised he was crying. Big, chest wracking sobs Gray really shouldn’t have been able to miss. He’d spent the last few minutes blocking everything out, concentrating completely on his own actions. And why? The whole point of this was to see his big brother broken and know it was all because of him.
He watched Jack’s head tip back in defeat, eyes screwed shut, though not tight enough to hold in the tears. That was what he wanted, he thought, hands tightening at Jack’s belt. More of that.
And yet, as he unbuckled the belt he found himself reluctant do anything more. Even the way Jack’s cries sharpened didn’t spur him on. He gave himself a little shake and tried to pull himself together.
Jack, apparently sensing weakness, looked up at him. “Gray,” he breathed, voice still shaky from the tears. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. Just do what you were going to do before. I’ll scream as loud as you want, tell you it hurts, just don’t do this.”
Gray grit his teeth and set to work opening the front of Jack’s trousers. After one final, trembling sigh, Jack didn’t say another word.
It hurt. It hurt both of them more than Gray had expected it to. And for all Jack’s exclamations of disgust and despair, all his expressions of self-loathing, Gray fast found himself unable to wring a second of pleasure from it. At one moment Gray’s sight warped before him, he thought meant that he was lose and that it would be over soon. It was only when the first hot tears spilt down his face did he realise he was crying too.
He stopped moving, hands fisting in the remnants of Jack’s shirt and rested his head against Jack’s chest as he tried to hold back the tears. Finally, feeling his odd sense of grief had passed, Gray looked up. Jack stared back at him mournfully through glassy eyes. And Gray felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of hatred for him, for the brother who’d lost him, who’d never come to save him, for the fact that even now - especially now - when Gray was almost destroying himself to hurt him he was somehow able to remain untouched by it all.
Gray pulled away from him, shuddering in disgust and his right hand flew at Jack’s face, slap sudden as a whip crack. Jack still didn’t move.
“I hate you,” Gray growled, even as the tears broke free. He slapped him again. “I hate you.” And again. “I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you I hate youIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!”
He collapsed on top of him, feeling sick and stupid and so very alone, burying his face in Jack’s shirt and howling.
A moment later, a hand, shaking slightly, came to lie at the back of his head. The other - the arm that Gray had punched the syringe in - shook harder and took one of Gray’s hands.
“It’s alright,” said Jack quietly, as though far away. “Shush, it’s alright.”
And Gray felt it again; the urge to hurt, to kill, anyway he could. For the moment he lay in his big brother’s arms and cried.
~
Jack took great care when packing Gray away this time, shooing Gwen and Ianto away and then shouting at them when they didn’t leave quickly enough.
He looked at the syringes on the little side table and tried to feel proud of himself. He doubted even Owen could have done much better. The difficulty they’d had turning it from a powder into useable pills… And even if it didn’t quite work there would be an absolute minimum of detrimental effects.
He smoothed Gray’s hair and sighed, trying to ignore the way his hand shook. He still hadn’t quite recovered from whatever cocktail it was Gray had been using.
“You do love me,” he told the man slumbering in the drawer before him. He picked up the syringe. “None of it would hurt so much otherwise.”
He found a vein and injected the retcon slowly. He drew the empty needle out and dropped it in the yellow plastic bin. Then he picked up the second needle.
A sharp scratch in one arm and it would all be gone. Just some terrible nightmare that would eventually fade away.
He glanced across at Gray. Another jab in his and they might be able to wipe the slate clean. Everything from the day of the attack one big blur, as far as Gray was concerned. Together they could find normality, or something like it. Be ordinary, loving brothers. It was tempting. So very tempting…
Jack dropped it into the yellow bin and then tucked it away in one of the cupboards to empty out later. Gray had his revenge for Jack losing him and leaving him. Many times over.
But this… he might never be able to pay Jack back for letting him do this.
A/N: Please don't hate for this...
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Jack/Gray
Warning(s): Incest. Rape.
Word Count: 2226
Summary: There's nothing Gray won't do for revenge...
A/N: Written for karaokegal's Come as you're not party. I feel unclean.
“How does it feel?” Gray asked.
Beneath him Jack was breathing heavily, looking helpless and wide-eyed. Gray smiled at him and planted a boot firmly on Jack’s chest, pressing down with all his weight.
“I said,” he began languidly amid Jack’s coughs and stutters, “how does it feel? You can still feel, can’t you? I had some difficulty with the ingredient quantities my first few tries.” Gray sank into a crouch by his brother’s head and slowly, carefully drew out his knife. “I’d hate for you to be paralysed while we do this.”
Jack wet his lips. “You know whatever you do to me isn’t going to matter,” he said, steady voice purely for show. “I’ll have been through worse at some point.”
“You ever wonder why that is?” Gray asked, after a moment’s pause, shifting to straddle Jack’s chest. Jack turned his head away. “How you end up ruining so many people? Hm?” He jabbed roughly at Jack’s cheek with the knife. Jack’s eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t flinch.
Gray leant in close, breath stirring Jack’s hair. “Is there anyone you haven’t managed to drag down?” he asked, his curiosity in part genuine.
Jack’s jaw clench with effort to remain silent and stoic. Gray laughed low and harsh.
“Won’t you even try and fight back?” he asked. Even after Gray had injected him Jack had only made a few token struggles to ensure he landed face-up as his legs gave way. It amused and infuriated Gray that whatever he would say to him, whatever he would do to him, Jack would just lie there and take it.
Jack’s eyes cracked open and stared guilelessly up at him. “You know why.” Not an accusation, but world-weary resignation and something like dismissal. Of the question, Gray decided, though the anger blossomed nonetheless.
Because that was the thing; anything Gray did to Jack - anything Jack lay back and allowed Gray to do to him - Jack took as penance, one step closer to payback or redemption or breaking even or whatever it was in his head. For his brother’s sake it had better not have been the latter; even if Gray were to join his brother and live from now until the end of everything there was no way they’d ever be able to break even. Ever.
Gray shifted further down, trying his knife against his brother’s throat. He went stone still. For a moment Gray was sure that he had even stopped breathing.
“You know something?” he said, and for the way he had his brother pinned down like this the silence seemed all the deeper somehow, like they were sat together in the eye of a storm, helplessly awaiting the devastation. “You know something? I don’t remember what your name is.” And for a moment his eyes looked so lifeless. Anyone could shove a knife into his gut, or murder his friends, or bury him alive. But no one else could make him look like this, Gray was sure. He alone could kill him like this. And he loved it.
“I’ve tried to remember,” he went on. “I just lost it one day. When they came for me…” He had to shut his eyes for a moment to focus himself again. Upon opening his eyes to Jack’s pitying look he pushed the knife closer. “You lasted longer than Mum or Dad. Because you were more important - I loved you most.” He twisted the knife ever so slightly, received the smallest trickle of blood in return. “Tell me their names.”
Jack swallowed. The trickled thickened. “Dad was called Franklin. Mum sometimes called him Frank, and Grandma would call him Linnie.” He looked up at Gray, terrified and hopeful. “Remember? You remember that?”
Gray twisted the knife again. “What about Mum? What was her name?”
Jack’s eyes had misted over, old tears come back to haunt him. “I begged him to come with us. He never would have lost you -”
Gray’s other hand snapped over Jack’s throat and squeezed. “Mum. What was her name?”
“She w-” It took Jack a moment to recover from the coughing, but Gray did not remove the knife, or his hand. “She was Tähli. And you - you were her favourite. Light of her world.”
Gray considered this and almost smiled. “She blamed you too, didn’t she?”
Jack’s eyes sank closed. Gray didn’t bother to prompt him. “She wouldn’t even look at me,” Jack breathed. “Not for the longest time.”
For some reason this didn’t satisfy Gray. Not the way it should have. He tightened his grip again. “And you? What’s your name, hm?” Jack tried to look away again. Gray wrenched his face back toward him. “Come on. What am I supposed to call you?” Keeping the knife where it was, Gray pushed his other hand down his brother’s throat and on to his chest. “Jack won’t do. Jack doesn’t suit you. That’s just something you’ve picked up along the way, isn’t it? Something to hide who you really are.”
He jerked his body down against his brother to prove his point.
The strangled gasp that burst from his big brother’s mouth came as something of a shock. Apparently to his brother as well, if his expression was anything to go by.
Gray stared down at him. Then, after a moment, the shock cleared. He drew the knife away and laid it down, instead planting a hand either side of Jack’s head.
“Gray…?” suddenly the terrain wasn’t so familiar and Jack sounded almost afraid. Gray licked his lips, heart thrumming in his ears. He pressed down against Jack and thrust again. Jack near choked from trying to keep the noise he made from getting free.
“Gray,” he gasped, and Gray hoped it was arousal making his big brother’s voice catch just so, hoped harder than he’d hoped for anything before. He did it again, stomach twisting in sick delight as Jack again tried and failed to keep silent, a broken little noise sliding past gritted teeth.
“Stop. Gray, please - just stop.” He was actually trying to move his hands now, his legs too, his head turning from side to side desperate for any sign of movement. He was rewarded with only a stuttering stillness of his limbs.
Gray picked up the knife again and set it against his neck. It didn’t halt him instantly like it did before, though, and a line of blood trailed darkly down his throat. He froze staring up at Gray, their mother’s blue eyes and their dead father’s features set in a look of slow horror.
Gray ground down again, trying to ignore the hideous little shudder that crawled up his back.
“Gray.” He actually recognised that tone - not his brother’s voice, but his father’s, grabbing the two of them by the scruff of the neck and jerking them back into line. And however much they’d both grown up since then, Jack still sounded like the twelve-year-old big brother trying to play the parent and boss him around. “Stop this. Now.”
There was a small part of him that wanted to heed him, for all that he hated him - even if they ended up in trouble it had always paid off to play along with Jack. He thought up the best games. Right now his commanding tone was at odds with his expression; concerned and fearful.
Not afraid of him, but for him.
If Gray had ever had any doubts, that decided him.
He leant down again. “Y’know,” he said, licking his lips again (and how Jack flinched when Gray’s tongue brushed the corner of his mouth), “I don’t think I will.”
He dropped the knife again, grabbing Jack’s face with both hands and kissing him in a very, very unbrotherly fashion.
Jack moaned in what was unmistakably revulsion, trying to tear away from him, but Gray’s grip was too strong. He bit at Jack’s lips until he drew blood and when Jack finally opened his mouth tangled his tongue with his brother’s. It was barely a kiss, more a crash of lips that ended only when Jack began choking in earnest. Gray licked the blood, holding Jack’s head in place when he became difficult, while he pulled at Jack’s shirt. It gave way after a few tries and Gray bit into the skin.
His hands dragged down to Jack’s waist and paused, hooking on his belt. Looking back at Jack’s face he realised he was crying. Big, chest wracking sobs Gray really shouldn’t have been able to miss. He’d spent the last few minutes blocking everything out, concentrating completely on his own actions. And why? The whole point of this was to see his big brother broken and know it was all because of him.
He watched Jack’s head tip back in defeat, eyes screwed shut, though not tight enough to hold in the tears. That was what he wanted, he thought, hands tightening at Jack’s belt. More of that.
And yet, as he unbuckled the belt he found himself reluctant do anything more. Even the way Jack’s cries sharpened didn’t spur him on. He gave himself a little shake and tried to pull himself together.
Jack, apparently sensing weakness, looked up at him. “Gray,” he breathed, voice still shaky from the tears. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. Just do what you were going to do before. I’ll scream as loud as you want, tell you it hurts, just don’t do this.”
Gray grit his teeth and set to work opening the front of Jack’s trousers. After one final, trembling sigh, Jack didn’t say another word.
It hurt. It hurt both of them more than Gray had expected it to. And for all Jack’s exclamations of disgust and despair, all his expressions of self-loathing, Gray fast found himself unable to wring a second of pleasure from it. At one moment Gray’s sight warped before him, he thought meant that he was lose and that it would be over soon. It was only when the first hot tears spilt down his face did he realise he was crying too.
He stopped moving, hands fisting in the remnants of Jack’s shirt and rested his head against Jack’s chest as he tried to hold back the tears. Finally, feeling his odd sense of grief had passed, Gray looked up. Jack stared back at him mournfully through glassy eyes. And Gray felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of hatred for him, for the brother who’d lost him, who’d never come to save him, for the fact that even now - especially now - when Gray was almost destroying himself to hurt him he was somehow able to remain untouched by it all.
Gray pulled away from him, shuddering in disgust and his right hand flew at Jack’s face, slap sudden as a whip crack. Jack still didn’t move.
“I hate you,” Gray growled, even as the tears broke free. He slapped him again. “I hate you.” And again. “I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you I hate youIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!”
He collapsed on top of him, feeling sick and stupid and so very alone, burying his face in Jack’s shirt and howling.
A moment later, a hand, shaking slightly, came to lie at the back of his head. The other - the arm that Gray had punched the syringe in - shook harder and took one of Gray’s hands.
“It’s alright,” said Jack quietly, as though far away. “Shush, it’s alright.”
And Gray felt it again; the urge to hurt, to kill, anyway he could. For the moment he lay in his big brother’s arms and cried.
~
Jack took great care when packing Gray away this time, shooing Gwen and Ianto away and then shouting at them when they didn’t leave quickly enough.
He looked at the syringes on the little side table and tried to feel proud of himself. He doubted even Owen could have done much better. The difficulty they’d had turning it from a powder into useable pills… And even if it didn’t quite work there would be an absolute minimum of detrimental effects.
He smoothed Gray’s hair and sighed, trying to ignore the way his hand shook. He still hadn’t quite recovered from whatever cocktail it was Gray had been using.
“You do love me,” he told the man slumbering in the drawer before him. He picked up the syringe. “None of it would hurt so much otherwise.”
He found a vein and injected the retcon slowly. He drew the empty needle out and dropped it in the yellow plastic bin. Then he picked up the second needle.
A sharp scratch in one arm and it would all be gone. Just some terrible nightmare that would eventually fade away.
He glanced across at Gray. Another jab in his and they might be able to wipe the slate clean. Everything from the day of the attack one big blur, as far as Gray was concerned. Together they could find normality, or something like it. Be ordinary, loving brothers. It was tempting. So very tempting…
Jack dropped it into the yellow bin and then tucked it away in one of the cupboards to empty out later. Gray had his revenge for Jack losing him and leaving him. Many times over.
But this… he might never be able to pay Jack back for letting him do this.
A/N: Please don't hate for this...