Fic: Max, Missing
Title: Max, Missing
Pairing: Max/Danny
Rating: PG-13 for language & situation
It was meant to be a simple mission. Blend in, observe the Tezharians, try to find out about the power plant. I've been trained for this, and I've done some undercover work. This was meant to be an easy way to get some more experience.
The only problem was that the Cardassians were also watching this planet, also very interested in their energy sources, and they decided that Starfleet wanted to annex Tezhar and use it to create new weapons AND to advance further into Cardassian space. It's far enough from the border that our people thought the Cardassians wouldn't be suspicious. It's close enough to the border that the Cardassians were damn well suspicious anyway.
Especially since they had a base in the mountains. We didn't know because of the iridium. . . the same element that the Tezharians were using in some crazy way to create power was the same element making it impossible for us to scan the mountains.
So we got jumped by a squadron one day in the main tavern. One second I was drinking greenwater, a light refreshing drink I was going to miss when we left there. . . and the next second I was up against a wall with a truncheon jammed in my throat and two Cardassians holding me by the shoulders. I didn't even see them coming.
Ennin picked up a cudgel from behind the bar and advanced on the ones holding me, tapping the cudgel meaningfully into his hand, but the Cardassian on my left flung a hand out and blasted his hat clean off. The Tezharians don't have energy weapons. "It's okay, Ennin," I wheezed, and got a fist in the stomach for my troubles.
"Shut up," the Cardassian snarled in my face. His breath stank of kanar.
Two more had T'Lal bailed up, and considering she's a pacifist, she can fight when she needs to. It wasn't enough, of course. I watched as she crumpled to the ground. Ballk was already down, with a welt on his forehead.
A Cardassian taller than the others climbed up on a bar table "I'm Gul Pundel, ladies and gentlemen. These people belong to me, and you will leave now or you'll all be shot."
I could feel my heartrate increasing. I didn't have any idea what the hell they wanted with us, apart from what Cardassians usually want with Starfleeters; crush, kill, destroy. Everyone filed out, Ennin with an apologetic look at me. I gave him an inch of a nod, all I could manage with the two goons holding me. At least we hadn't been there long enough to make too many friendships, to affect too many people. If Ennin hadn't acquiesced he would've been killed, and that could've happened to others, too.
"Her and him," Pundel said, face hard, as everyone left. I paled.
Two blasters at my friends' heads.
I threw myself forward, trying to get to them, though I knew it was stupid. I grunted, "Stop!"
A gauntleted fist to the jaw slammed me back against the wall. I slumped as the flare of pain twisted through my brain and I nearly passed out.
There were two shots.
"You're coming to the mountains, Mr Cooper," Pundel purred in my face. "And you'll never see any of your friends again."
Two goons picked me up by the arms, swore at me when my legs wouldn't work, then dragged me out of there. I managed enough presence of mind to take off my commbadge and drop it on the ground, knowing only too goddamn well that where we were going there wouldn't be any signal. T'Lal. . . Ballk. . . damn it.
And now here I am.
I'm naked, cold, and bruised, lying huddled on the cold floor in a corner. I've got a tiny room to myself with a fluorescent light that flickers, but is never turned off. No furniture, no carpet, even.
It's still better in here than out there.
The door's flung open. "Time to get up already?" I say as breezily as I can, which isn't very breezy.
My two 'friends' from before grunt at me, and grab me by the elbows. A third one jabs something sharp into my upper arm, and I sigh. I don't know if it's a hallucinogenic, or something to make me more amenable, but whatever it is, I've been seeing things and my skin itches.
They drag me out. I'm hurled into the same black leather chair that I've been in every single day since I was brought here. They hurl me so hard the chair rocks back. It's been about three days, by my reckoning, but I'm probably way off because they've been very careful to bring me food at irregular intervals and we're underground. The lights are left on constantly. No way to tell night from day.
No shackles, but there never have been. Every time I've run, I've been clubbed to the ground and thrown back into the chair. I know intellectually that I'm not going to get out of here by myself; I have no resources, I'm exhausted, and there are too many of them. But the body can't help panicking sometimes.
Pundel's on his side of the desk, as always. A spotlight shines down on me from the high ceiling, making me squint. He's finishing some paperwork, or is pretending to, at least, and there's a tiny amount of reassurance in that. I KNOW that trick.
He looks up eventually. "Tell me what you know," he says calmly.
"I've told you everything already," I murmur, waiting for it to begin. The goon on my left raises his hand. Light reflects from the metallic instrument he's holding. I don't know what it's called. They've never told me.
I break into a sweat.
* * *
I'm thrown back in my cell afterwards, gasping and crying.
I remember learning about torture at the Academy.
"Everyone breaks, eventually. Don't make the mistake of thinking that you'll be the one who'll hold up," Worf said quietly. He was guest lecturing -- a great honour for us.
He paced across the stage in front of us, then turned to face us again. "If you're captured, if you're tortured, you have to know that. You will break. You will talk. It's only a matter of time. And that's why there are safeguards built into Starfleet systems, double and triple and quadruple redundancies, so that if someone is captured, there's only so much they can give away."
That's all fine, if there's information to be given. Well, not 'fine'. I assume then the torture would stop. The torturers would kill the person, of course, but at least the torture would STOP.
But I don't HAVE any information. I've told Pundel everything I know, which is exactly what he got from eavesdropping on official Starfleet channels anyway, and it's not really a secret.
I'm too exhausted even to move to my corner. I stay in a heap in the middle of the floor. Damn, I need Danny. . . I don't know how many times I've imagined him coming through that door, crouching next to me, and just holding me.
I don't think I'm gonna see him again.
* * *
Day Four. I'm back in the cell again. They broke my nose. I can't believe it -- everything else has been painful but not permanent.
Danny's in the corner of my cell, crying. He pushes his hair back from his face, and comes towards me, a hand outstretched to comfort me. Then he disappears.
* * *
Day Five. Thoughts of Danny are the only thing stopping me from falling completely apart. I drift off to sleep wondering what it was like to sleep on a bed, with a warm person wrapped around me.
* * *
Day Six.
"I don't have anything to tell you," I say, about a hundred times more shakily than the first time I said it. "There's no secret. Starfleet is not looking to establish a base on this world. We were merely interested in their technological advances. That's it."
"I don't BELIEVE you," Pundel snarls. "And I can keep you alive here for as long as I need to, my dear friend Max. You wouldn't like the methods." He gets right up in my face.
I manage to glare at him. I don't have enough saliva to spit at him, or I'd do that, too. I hate the way he says my name, caressingly, as if he has a claim to me. Well, he might have me here, but I don't belong here. I'm Fleet. And I'm Danny's.
He nods at the edge of the room.
At the shackles. "Your new abode, Max."
* * *
Day Twelve, I think. I've been hanging here for what seems like forever. I can't feel my hands any more, and my neck's killing me from supporting the weight of my head when I slump forward. I have to breathe through my mouth as my nose is still ruined.
Pundel clucks his tongue in mock concern as he comes past me to his desk. "If you'd only cooperate, Max," he says reproachfully. "I could arrange a proper meal for you. Clothes. A bed."
It sounds like heaven, and I nearly want to accept. Nearly want to hug him, thank him, cry on his shoulder and let him hold me. . . just like Danny would. DAMN. I'm never gonna see Danny again, and he'll be upset and probably will never find out what happened to me, and I ache for him.
"Fuck you," I manage eventually, weakly. Pundel clucks his tongue again, savagely kicks me in the side of the knee, then trots off to his desk and his paperwork.
* * *
Day ???
I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. The door explodes off its hinges, and Captain Shishi bursts into the room, roaring, with Walker, Tate and Tarou behind him. I'm not all that surprised as I've hallucinated various versions of this over and over.
I am surprised, however, when Doctor Shiraki takes my face gently in her hands. The hallucinations haven't touched me before. "Max, can you hear me?" she says intently. "We're getting you out of here."
* * *
I open my eyes slowly and realise I'm in Sickbay. I can see legs and feet.
I think they're mine.
I waggle my toes. Yeah, they're mine. I'm lying on a bed. I'm wearing a standard issue blue shirt and pants, with blue socks. I actually feel rested. There's no pain anywhere. My hands are bandaged, so's my nose, which I can actually breathe through, and I can feel neat bandages around my ribs, as well.
"You have to stay here for a few days," Shiraki says to me gently from somewhere behind my ear. I didn't even realise she was there. I try to turn my head to see her, but the muscles are sore. She walks down beside me, hugging a PADD to herself, then she picks up a glass of water with a straw and holds it to my lips so I can drink. I sip gratefully, glad of the coolness on my dry throat.
She continues, "You need to put some weight back on, and you need to heal. You had a broken nose, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, broken collarbone, the beginnings of gangrene in your hands, and numerous abrasions. Some quite serious."
"Okay. Thanks, Doctor," I say, utterly bewildered. I still kind of expect it all to fade away. Surely it has to be another hallucination. "Danny. . .?"
"On his way."
The door slides open, and he's standing there. DANNY. I realise instantly that this is actually real. That's definitely him, not my brain's version of him. My mouth drops open. "Danny," I whisper.
He doesn't speak, but his chest is moving rapidly. He must've run all the way down here. Shiraki steps aside, giving us some privacy, as Danny runs over and wraps his arms around me, his lips meeting mine desperately.
* * *
Danny visits me every single day, of course, and has to be kicked out by Doctor Shiraki. He falls asleep on the floor one time. I hear her groan when I'm nearly asleep, then I look down a little later and see him snoring with a pillow under his head.
* * *
I wake up one time to see T'Gire, T'Lal's best friend, staring down at me. Tate's with her, and I flash back to seeing Tate, T'Gire, T'Lal and Ballk all gathered around a poker game. T'Gire sighs. "I am. . . pleased to see that you are whole."
"I'm sorry about T'Lal," I murmur uncomfortably. I know I've been hurt, and an irrational tiny part of me is happy about that, as at least I didn't escape unscathed while T'Lal was killed. "I miss her."
She nods.
I feel someone squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back automatically. Danny, of course, sitting in the chair on my other side. He's been here every time I've woken up, except the times that Doctor Shiraki's thrown him out. It hurts a little when he squeezes my hand, because I'm still regaining sensation, but he knows and he's gentle.
"Hey, Max," says Tate, a smile on his face. He's a lightyear away from the stone faced officer I last saw delivering a scissor kick to a Cardassian's head. I try to take that image and replace it with the Sky in front of me, like Bridge has talked to me about. I shouldn't forget what happened to me, but it's okay for me to make new memories.
I smile up at him as best I can. "Hey, Sky."
* * *
Commander Shirogane sneaks me some Spiderman comics from Earth.
* * *
The Captain strides by and tells me he's glad I'm on the crew.
* * *
I'm allowed home eventually, though it's hard and strange to contemplate sleeping back in our bed again. I stand in the doorway to the bedroom, all of it passing through my mind. I try to stay mindful of Bridge's recommendations, to let the images come as they will, but not focus on them, but it's hard.
I can't relax. It seems like by coming back here I'm just glossing over everything that happened to me, even though I'm not; I have regular sessions scheduled with Carson until the day I die, and all our friends have been checking in on me.
It's still weird.
"Take your time," Danny tells me from his side of the bed, and yet again I realise how much wiser he is than I am. We're both wearing pyjamas, which is unusual, but it was Danny's idea, and I think he's right. The vulnerability from being naked is a large part of my memories of being with the Cardassians, and this tiny little concession to that might actually help.
He puts his glasses on the bedside table, then smiles at me, folding his hands and waiting patiently. I realise suddenly that he'd wait for hours if I needed it.
I walk around to my side, toes squishing into the carpet, then get into bed next to him. He's so tense. He doesn't know whether I want to be touched or need to be left alone, so I scoot over next to him, and carefully lay my head on his shoulder.
Yeah.
I think this can work.
Pairing: Max/Danny
Rating: PG-13 for language & situation
It was meant to be a simple mission. Blend in, observe the Tezharians, try to find out about the power plant. I've been trained for this, and I've done some undercover work. This was meant to be an easy way to get some more experience.
The only problem was that the Cardassians were also watching this planet, also very interested in their energy sources, and they decided that Starfleet wanted to annex Tezhar and use it to create new weapons AND to advance further into Cardassian space. It's far enough from the border that our people thought the Cardassians wouldn't be suspicious. It's close enough to the border that the Cardassians were damn well suspicious anyway.
Especially since they had a base in the mountains. We didn't know because of the iridium. . . the same element that the Tezharians were using in some crazy way to create power was the same element making it impossible for us to scan the mountains.
So we got jumped by a squadron one day in the main tavern. One second I was drinking greenwater, a light refreshing drink I was going to miss when we left there. . . and the next second I was up against a wall with a truncheon jammed in my throat and two Cardassians holding me by the shoulders. I didn't even see them coming.
Ennin picked up a cudgel from behind the bar and advanced on the ones holding me, tapping the cudgel meaningfully into his hand, but the Cardassian on my left flung a hand out and blasted his hat clean off. The Tezharians don't have energy weapons. "It's okay, Ennin," I wheezed, and got a fist in the stomach for my troubles.
"Shut up," the Cardassian snarled in my face. His breath stank of kanar.
Two more had T'Lal bailed up, and considering she's a pacifist, she can fight when she needs to. It wasn't enough, of course. I watched as she crumpled to the ground. Ballk was already down, with a welt on his forehead.
A Cardassian taller than the others climbed up on a bar table "I'm Gul Pundel, ladies and gentlemen. These people belong to me, and you will leave now or you'll all be shot."
I could feel my heartrate increasing. I didn't have any idea what the hell they wanted with us, apart from what Cardassians usually want with Starfleeters; crush, kill, destroy. Everyone filed out, Ennin with an apologetic look at me. I gave him an inch of a nod, all I could manage with the two goons holding me. At least we hadn't been there long enough to make too many friendships, to affect too many people. If Ennin hadn't acquiesced he would've been killed, and that could've happened to others, too.
"Her and him," Pundel said, face hard, as everyone left. I paled.
Two blasters at my friends' heads.
I threw myself forward, trying to get to them, though I knew it was stupid. I grunted, "Stop!"
A gauntleted fist to the jaw slammed me back against the wall. I slumped as the flare of pain twisted through my brain and I nearly passed out.
There were two shots.
"You're coming to the mountains, Mr Cooper," Pundel purred in my face. "And you'll never see any of your friends again."
Two goons picked me up by the arms, swore at me when my legs wouldn't work, then dragged me out of there. I managed enough presence of mind to take off my commbadge and drop it on the ground, knowing only too goddamn well that where we were going there wouldn't be any signal. T'Lal. . . Ballk. . . damn it.
And now here I am.
I'm naked, cold, and bruised, lying huddled on the cold floor in a corner. I've got a tiny room to myself with a fluorescent light that flickers, but is never turned off. No furniture, no carpet, even.
It's still better in here than out there.
The door's flung open. "Time to get up already?" I say as breezily as I can, which isn't very breezy.
My two 'friends' from before grunt at me, and grab me by the elbows. A third one jabs something sharp into my upper arm, and I sigh. I don't know if it's a hallucinogenic, or something to make me more amenable, but whatever it is, I've been seeing things and my skin itches.
They drag me out. I'm hurled into the same black leather chair that I've been in every single day since I was brought here. They hurl me so hard the chair rocks back. It's been about three days, by my reckoning, but I'm probably way off because they've been very careful to bring me food at irregular intervals and we're underground. The lights are left on constantly. No way to tell night from day.
No shackles, but there never have been. Every time I've run, I've been clubbed to the ground and thrown back into the chair. I know intellectually that I'm not going to get out of here by myself; I have no resources, I'm exhausted, and there are too many of them. But the body can't help panicking sometimes.
Pundel's on his side of the desk, as always. A spotlight shines down on me from the high ceiling, making me squint. He's finishing some paperwork, or is pretending to, at least, and there's a tiny amount of reassurance in that. I KNOW that trick.
He looks up eventually. "Tell me what you know," he says calmly.
"I've told you everything already," I murmur, waiting for it to begin. The goon on my left raises his hand. Light reflects from the metallic instrument he's holding. I don't know what it's called. They've never told me.
I break into a sweat.
* * *
I'm thrown back in my cell afterwards, gasping and crying.
I remember learning about torture at the Academy.
"Everyone breaks, eventually. Don't make the mistake of thinking that you'll be the one who'll hold up," Worf said quietly. He was guest lecturing -- a great honour for us.
He paced across the stage in front of us, then turned to face us again. "If you're captured, if you're tortured, you have to know that. You will break. You will talk. It's only a matter of time. And that's why there are safeguards built into Starfleet systems, double and triple and quadruple redundancies, so that if someone is captured, there's only so much they can give away."
That's all fine, if there's information to be given. Well, not 'fine'. I assume then the torture would stop. The torturers would kill the person, of course, but at least the torture would STOP.
But I don't HAVE any information. I've told Pundel everything I know, which is exactly what he got from eavesdropping on official Starfleet channels anyway, and it's not really a secret.
I'm too exhausted even to move to my corner. I stay in a heap in the middle of the floor. Damn, I need Danny. . . I don't know how many times I've imagined him coming through that door, crouching next to me, and just holding me.
I don't think I'm gonna see him again.
* * *
Day Four. I'm back in the cell again. They broke my nose. I can't believe it -- everything else has been painful but not permanent.
Danny's in the corner of my cell, crying. He pushes his hair back from his face, and comes towards me, a hand outstretched to comfort me. Then he disappears.
* * *
Day Five. Thoughts of Danny are the only thing stopping me from falling completely apart. I drift off to sleep wondering what it was like to sleep on a bed, with a warm person wrapped around me.
* * *
Day Six.
"I don't have anything to tell you," I say, about a hundred times more shakily than the first time I said it. "There's no secret. Starfleet is not looking to establish a base on this world. We were merely interested in their technological advances. That's it."
"I don't BELIEVE you," Pundel snarls. "And I can keep you alive here for as long as I need to, my dear friend Max. You wouldn't like the methods." He gets right up in my face.
I manage to glare at him. I don't have enough saliva to spit at him, or I'd do that, too. I hate the way he says my name, caressingly, as if he has a claim to me. Well, he might have me here, but I don't belong here. I'm Fleet. And I'm Danny's.
He nods at the edge of the room.
At the shackles. "Your new abode, Max."
* * *
Day Twelve, I think. I've been hanging here for what seems like forever. I can't feel my hands any more, and my neck's killing me from supporting the weight of my head when I slump forward. I have to breathe through my mouth as my nose is still ruined.
Pundel clucks his tongue in mock concern as he comes past me to his desk. "If you'd only cooperate, Max," he says reproachfully. "I could arrange a proper meal for you. Clothes. A bed."
It sounds like heaven, and I nearly want to accept. Nearly want to hug him, thank him, cry on his shoulder and let him hold me. . . just like Danny would. DAMN. I'm never gonna see Danny again, and he'll be upset and probably will never find out what happened to me, and I ache for him.
"Fuck you," I manage eventually, weakly. Pundel clucks his tongue again, savagely kicks me in the side of the knee, then trots off to his desk and his paperwork.
* * *
Day ???
I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. The door explodes off its hinges, and Captain Shishi bursts into the room, roaring, with Walker, Tate and Tarou behind him. I'm not all that surprised as I've hallucinated various versions of this over and over.
I am surprised, however, when Doctor Shiraki takes my face gently in her hands. The hallucinations haven't touched me before. "Max, can you hear me?" she says intently. "We're getting you out of here."
* * *
I open my eyes slowly and realise I'm in Sickbay. I can see legs and feet.
I think they're mine.
I waggle my toes. Yeah, they're mine. I'm lying on a bed. I'm wearing a standard issue blue shirt and pants, with blue socks. I actually feel rested. There's no pain anywhere. My hands are bandaged, so's my nose, which I can actually breathe through, and I can feel neat bandages around my ribs, as well.
"You have to stay here for a few days," Shiraki says to me gently from somewhere behind my ear. I didn't even realise she was there. I try to turn my head to see her, but the muscles are sore. She walks down beside me, hugging a PADD to herself, then she picks up a glass of water with a straw and holds it to my lips so I can drink. I sip gratefully, glad of the coolness on my dry throat.
She continues, "You need to put some weight back on, and you need to heal. You had a broken nose, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, broken collarbone, the beginnings of gangrene in your hands, and numerous abrasions. Some quite serious."
"Okay. Thanks, Doctor," I say, utterly bewildered. I still kind of expect it all to fade away. Surely it has to be another hallucination. "Danny. . .?"
"On his way."
The door slides open, and he's standing there. DANNY. I realise instantly that this is actually real. That's definitely him, not my brain's version of him. My mouth drops open. "Danny," I whisper.
He doesn't speak, but his chest is moving rapidly. He must've run all the way down here. Shiraki steps aside, giving us some privacy, as Danny runs over and wraps his arms around me, his lips meeting mine desperately.
* * *
Danny visits me every single day, of course, and has to be kicked out by Doctor Shiraki. He falls asleep on the floor one time. I hear her groan when I'm nearly asleep, then I look down a little later and see him snoring with a pillow under his head.
* * *
I wake up one time to see T'Gire, T'Lal's best friend, staring down at me. Tate's with her, and I flash back to seeing Tate, T'Gire, T'Lal and Ballk all gathered around a poker game. T'Gire sighs. "I am. . . pleased to see that you are whole."
"I'm sorry about T'Lal," I murmur uncomfortably. I know I've been hurt, and an irrational tiny part of me is happy about that, as at least I didn't escape unscathed while T'Lal was killed. "I miss her."
She nods.
I feel someone squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back automatically. Danny, of course, sitting in the chair on my other side. He's been here every time I've woken up, except the times that Doctor Shiraki's thrown him out. It hurts a little when he squeezes my hand, because I'm still regaining sensation, but he knows and he's gentle.
"Hey, Max," says Tate, a smile on his face. He's a lightyear away from the stone faced officer I last saw delivering a scissor kick to a Cardassian's head. I try to take that image and replace it with the Sky in front of me, like Bridge has talked to me about. I shouldn't forget what happened to me, but it's okay for me to make new memories.
I smile up at him as best I can. "Hey, Sky."
* * *
Commander Shirogane sneaks me some Spiderman comics from Earth.
* * *
The Captain strides by and tells me he's glad I'm on the crew.
* * *
I'm allowed home eventually, though it's hard and strange to contemplate sleeping back in our bed again. I stand in the doorway to the bedroom, all of it passing through my mind. I try to stay mindful of Bridge's recommendations, to let the images come as they will, but not focus on them, but it's hard.
I can't relax. It seems like by coming back here I'm just glossing over everything that happened to me, even though I'm not; I have regular sessions scheduled with Carson until the day I die, and all our friends have been checking in on me.
It's still weird.
"Take your time," Danny tells me from his side of the bed, and yet again I realise how much wiser he is than I am. We're both wearing pyjamas, which is unusual, but it was Danny's idea, and I think he's right. The vulnerability from being naked is a large part of my memories of being with the Cardassians, and this tiny little concession to that might actually help.
He puts his glasses on the bedside table, then smiles at me, folding his hands and waiting patiently. I realise suddenly that he'd wait for hours if I needed it.
I walk around to my side, toes squishing into the carpet, then get into bed next to him. He's so tense. He doesn't know whether I want to be touched or need to be left alone, so I scoot over next to him, and carefully lay my head on his shoulder.
Yeah.
I think this can work.