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Title: Acts of Insurrection (16/20)
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
They throw him back when they're done with him, having learned nothing more than the fact that he can trade insults as good as the next pilot. It's the most they can hope from him; he won't even consider bargaining. Yunho, Changmin... he has to keep them safe.
He knows he's already failed in keeping Yoochun safe the moment he lifts his eyes from the ground.
The other man is pale and bloody and shivering. His shirt is missing and his pants are ripped at the seams. Something in Junsu's throat clenches and won't let go. He tries to swallow past it, crawling towards the other man and ignoring the scream of every bruise and every cracked rib. "Yoochun," he whispers, reach to touch the other man's arm. "What happened?"
It's a foolish question. He can see the bruises on pale skin, has just lived through their cause.
"They..." His voice shaking, Yoochun rights himself with a wince. "They came for me." Predictable, yes, but nonetheless painful to witness.
Junsu lets out a shuddering breath. "Did they ask about the others?"
Yoochun shakes his head. "They didn't ask anything." His eyes flicker up and past Junsu's shoulder, a twisted sort of pride in his voice. "I didn't tell them anything."
But Junsu doesn't get it. It makes no sense to him. "Then what did they..." They tortured him for information, he expected the same to have happened to Yoochun. He came prepared, convincing himself they wouldn't crack, not if they were together.
Yoochun's eyes fix his, the tiniest shake of the head making itself seen, as if begging him not to ask. He doesn't get it.
He touches his shoulder, not understanding, not able to stop the flicker of hurt that comes when Yoochun pulls away from him.
"What did they do?" he asks again, something like desperation in his voice.
Yoochun's jaw clenches, blood still dribbling down his chin. "They had fun."
Blood on Yoochun reminds him of Jaejoong's wounds and still he can't help think this is somehow worse, even if Yoochun is conscious, even if he's talking. Even if his hands shake with tell-tale shock as he reaches up to wipe away at the blood. His pants are ripped. Why would his pants be ripped? Why would they...
"What did they..." Junsu breathes, biting bruised lips and clinging to the small part of himself that is still incredulous. "What did they... oh my Gods, Yoochun..."
"Shut up," the other man spits, his eyes like a hunted thing, pulling from Junsu's touch. "Stop asking that. Just stop. It doesn't matter." Junsu feels dizzy, a hand going to his forehead.
He can hold back his questions but he can't pretend he doesn't know, he can't pretend there's not a possibility--a chance that those bastards, those people he used to call friends...
"You're bleeding," he grits out, desperately wanting to reach out and touch the other man. If only to convince himself that this isn't just another bad dream.
"So are you," the other returns, his voice hoarse. Eyes rove over Junsu's form. "Are you alright?" And they both know what he means, even if the question sounds ridiculous. But Junsu can't focus on it, can't tear his attention away from his dark suspicions.
"I know... I knew what they'd do to me. They've got my file they know... they know." It doesn't matter, they know everything. He's told them everything, every fear, every wish and hope and dream. He's been psychoanalyzed and managed and trained to deal with it all. "They did all they could to get me to talk."
"You didn't," Yoochun murmurs, repeats what they both know to be true. He lets out a harsh breath. "What does that mean? What now?"
Junsu settles against the wall, cringing at the flare of pain and barely daring to imagine what Yoochun must be feeling. "They'll try again. I think. I don't know. Gods, I don't know." This isn't the Guard he joined. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
Yoochun shrinks into himself. The look on his face tears at Junsu's stomach. He wants to be sick. "Again?"
Without thinking, he covers Yoochun's bloodied hand with his own. He can't deny it. Their captors haven't gotten what they wanted. Not yet. The other man's breathing sharpens, quickens, piercing eyes focused on Junsu.
"Is this what, is this what you used to do?" His voice cracks. "Is that it?"
"No!" Junsu retorts, as quickly as he can. He shakes his head harshly, biting at his lips because it's all he can do to keep from screaming. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The rebels weren't supposed to be as right as this. It's too much. "I've never done anything like this, I wouldn't....never."
Yoochun takes a deep breath, head tilted back against the cold metal. He turns his hand until their palms fit, fingers tangled.
"I know."
***
It sounded nice in theory, Yunho thinks, incensed and panting as if he's run a marathon. His suit sticks to his skin, wet with sweat and uncomfortable. If they weren't so fucking determined to shoot him out of the sky, he'd be thinking fondly of his time in the Guard. As it is, he'd rather chew glass than remember those days.
"Doubling back to the Cerberus," Changmin's voice breaks the silence, formation long a thing of the past.
"Negative, Shim," he snaps, punching the last of his ammo into pursuing crafts. The sound of laser fire is loud in his ears, deafening, and he grits his teeth at the sight of the Acheron, long and wide and closer than he's seen it in almost a whole year.
Changmin's voice brings him back. "Yunho?"
"Retreat," he orders and half expects Jaejoong to protest. The other man's craft is too badly damaged, but his flying has improved and he stays in one piece, firing at the enemy with precision that comes from within. Yoochun was right to say he was a gunner, not a pilot, but there's hope for him yet.
That's assuming they survive the next hour.
"We draw them out and bring the big birds into play," Yunho continues, sensors verifying that all small ships are tagging the leader. "Keep out of their weapons range until they're in ours."
It should work, in theory.
Ahead, the Cerberus, Hydra and Pegasus head the lineup. Half the crews from other ships have been moved to the modified transporters, waiting to man cannons and tractor beams and use them in any way possible.
"Cerberus, Yunho. We're coming in for a refill. Make it quick."
A written message appears on the screen, direct from the Cerberus and no doubt from Jiexi's hand: 'Don't call this a retreat. Battle's not over yet.'
He trains his eyes ahead. They've lost thirty fighters in half as many minutes. They're out of fuel and the odds are against them. The Acheron's engines are still online.
As far as he can see, if the battle's not over yet, it soon will be.
***
The floor shudders beneath them, alarms blaring somewhere in the distance. All pretense of guards or interest in them has seemingly disappeared and Yoochun can only surmise they're in a battle. He doesn't quite let himself hope it's the others, doesn't want to. They wouldn't stand a chance, not against a ship like this and he'd rather be left here than see them all dead in some suicide rescue attempt.
Curled around himself, he rests his head on Junsu's shoulder, the other man in a fitful sleep borne purely out of exhaustion. It feels like its been weeks, but maybe only days. He doesn't know, doesn't care. Junsu looks small and sick from hunger, pain, fatigue. Yoochun does his best to slide his arm around the other man without aggravating his wounds, huddling close. To an outsider, they must look little better than caged animals.
The constant shudder of the ship's floors rouses his cellmate. Blinking at the flickering lights, he seems, for a moment, disoriented before he recovers his bearings. Acheron. Cell. Trapped. His attention naturally turns to Yoochun.
"What's happening?"
Yoochun wets his lips, trying to force some saliva into his throat before he speaks. "Alarms have been going off. No one's come. I think there's a battle."
"Cerberus?" comes the predictable, hopeful bit of nonsense Junsu should know better than to utter. "Do you think they've come for us?" Months ago and he would've kept mum on such unsubstantiated dreams. Since then, he's been put through torture and pain and fear and he's been given something to lose. Yoochun. He has to hope.
Yoochun swallows hard. "I...the Ceberus wouldn't stand a chance. They've been at it for a long time now. I don't..." He sees the hope flicker from Junsu's eyes, something twisting in his stomach. "I don't know, Su-ah."
Their fingers lace together even here, even in this place.
"If it's rebels... they'll kill us the next time they come." Bruised egos are the worst thing you can expect in executioners. Pain in a dead man is easiest to procure. A deep breath, grasp tightening and Yoochun has to bite his lip against the damning words, words they both know, both feel. He's afraid. He doesn't want to die.
"We have to get out of here. We...somehow, we have to. I'm..." he grits his teeth. "I'm not going to sit here like a dog waiting to be slaughtered." Like a bitch begging for more.
"If we can get to the lower decks, I could get us a ship, I could..." Junsu trails off. "The security system is well tied to life support. If we wait for it to fail, we'll be waiting to run out of oxygen." He's studied the plans over the years, he had to pass more than one exam on knowing exactly how everything worked on the Acheron. Didn't help him then, won't help him now unless they can find a way to use it.
"When they come," Yoochun says grimly. "We they come to do it, that's when we move. And if they fucking kill us...at least we'll have tried." He tightens his grasp on Junsu's hand.
"They'll kill us," Junsu protests, horrified. "We stand no chance." For one, those bastards have guns. Two, both Junsu and Yoochun are in no state to fight.
Yoochun turns to him, eyes flashing. "You said it yourself, they will kill us anyway. Better a chance of escape than a slow death at their hands."
Junsu takes a deep breath, looking to the door. Yoochun can almost hear the thoughts rushing through his head, the calculations, the conclusions. Teeth tug at an already split lip, eyes on Junsu's back until the other man turns, mouth set in a thin line of determination. A single sharp nod gives his answer and Yoochun takes a deep breath.
All they have to do now is wait.
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
They throw him back when they're done with him, having learned nothing more than the fact that he can trade insults as good as the next pilot. It's the most they can hope from him; he won't even consider bargaining. Yunho, Changmin... he has to keep them safe.
He knows he's already failed in keeping Yoochun safe the moment he lifts his eyes from the ground.
The other man is pale and bloody and shivering. His shirt is missing and his pants are ripped at the seams. Something in Junsu's throat clenches and won't let go. He tries to swallow past it, crawling towards the other man and ignoring the scream of every bruise and every cracked rib. "Yoochun," he whispers, reach to touch the other man's arm. "What happened?"
It's a foolish question. He can see the bruises on pale skin, has just lived through their cause.
"They..." His voice shaking, Yoochun rights himself with a wince. "They came for me." Predictable, yes, but nonetheless painful to witness.
Junsu lets out a shuddering breath. "Did they ask about the others?"
Yoochun shakes his head. "They didn't ask anything." His eyes flicker up and past Junsu's shoulder, a twisted sort of pride in his voice. "I didn't tell them anything."
But Junsu doesn't get it. It makes no sense to him. "Then what did they..." They tortured him for information, he expected the same to have happened to Yoochun. He came prepared, convincing himself they wouldn't crack, not if they were together.
Yoochun's eyes fix his, the tiniest shake of the head making itself seen, as if begging him not to ask. He doesn't get it.
He touches his shoulder, not understanding, not able to stop the flicker of hurt that comes when Yoochun pulls away from him.
"What did they do?" he asks again, something like desperation in his voice.
Yoochun's jaw clenches, blood still dribbling down his chin. "They had fun."
Blood on Yoochun reminds him of Jaejoong's wounds and still he can't help think this is somehow worse, even if Yoochun is conscious, even if he's talking. Even if his hands shake with tell-tale shock as he reaches up to wipe away at the blood. His pants are ripped. Why would his pants be ripped? Why would they...
"What did they..." Junsu breathes, biting bruised lips and clinging to the small part of himself that is still incredulous. "What did they... oh my Gods, Yoochun..."
"Shut up," the other man spits, his eyes like a hunted thing, pulling from Junsu's touch. "Stop asking that. Just stop. It doesn't matter." Junsu feels dizzy, a hand going to his forehead.
He can hold back his questions but he can't pretend he doesn't know, he can't pretend there's not a possibility--a chance that those bastards, those people he used to call friends...
"You're bleeding," he grits out, desperately wanting to reach out and touch the other man. If only to convince himself that this isn't just another bad dream.
"So are you," the other returns, his voice hoarse. Eyes rove over Junsu's form. "Are you alright?" And they both know what he means, even if the question sounds ridiculous. But Junsu can't focus on it, can't tear his attention away from his dark suspicions.
"I know... I knew what they'd do to me. They've got my file they know... they know." It doesn't matter, they know everything. He's told them everything, every fear, every wish and hope and dream. He's been psychoanalyzed and managed and trained to deal with it all. "They did all they could to get me to talk."
"You didn't," Yoochun murmurs, repeats what they both know to be true. He lets out a harsh breath. "What does that mean? What now?"
Junsu settles against the wall, cringing at the flare of pain and barely daring to imagine what Yoochun must be feeling. "They'll try again. I think. I don't know. Gods, I don't know." This isn't the Guard he joined. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
Yoochun shrinks into himself. The look on his face tears at Junsu's stomach. He wants to be sick. "Again?"
Without thinking, he covers Yoochun's bloodied hand with his own. He can't deny it. Their captors haven't gotten what they wanted. Not yet. The other man's breathing sharpens, quickens, piercing eyes focused on Junsu.
"Is this what, is this what you used to do?" His voice cracks. "Is that it?"
"No!" Junsu retorts, as quickly as he can. He shakes his head harshly, biting at his lips because it's all he can do to keep from screaming. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The rebels weren't supposed to be as right as this. It's too much. "I've never done anything like this, I wouldn't....never."
Yoochun takes a deep breath, head tilted back against the cold metal. He turns his hand until their palms fit, fingers tangled.
"I know."
***
It sounded nice in theory, Yunho thinks, incensed and panting as if he's run a marathon. His suit sticks to his skin, wet with sweat and uncomfortable. If they weren't so fucking determined to shoot him out of the sky, he'd be thinking fondly of his time in the Guard. As it is, he'd rather chew glass than remember those days.
"Doubling back to the Cerberus," Changmin's voice breaks the silence, formation long a thing of the past.
"Negative, Shim," he snaps, punching the last of his ammo into pursuing crafts. The sound of laser fire is loud in his ears, deafening, and he grits his teeth at the sight of the Acheron, long and wide and closer than he's seen it in almost a whole year.
Changmin's voice brings him back. "Yunho?"
"Retreat," he orders and half expects Jaejoong to protest. The other man's craft is too badly damaged, but his flying has improved and he stays in one piece, firing at the enemy with precision that comes from within. Yoochun was right to say he was a gunner, not a pilot, but there's hope for him yet.
That's assuming they survive the next hour.
"We draw them out and bring the big birds into play," Yunho continues, sensors verifying that all small ships are tagging the leader. "Keep out of their weapons range until they're in ours."
It should work, in theory.
Ahead, the Cerberus, Hydra and Pegasus head the lineup. Half the crews from other ships have been moved to the modified transporters, waiting to man cannons and tractor beams and use them in any way possible.
"Cerberus, Yunho. We're coming in for a refill. Make it quick."
A written message appears on the screen, direct from the Cerberus and no doubt from Jiexi's hand: 'Don't call this a retreat. Battle's not over yet.'
He trains his eyes ahead. They've lost thirty fighters in half as many minutes. They're out of fuel and the odds are against them. The Acheron's engines are still online.
As far as he can see, if the battle's not over yet, it soon will be.
***
The floor shudders beneath them, alarms blaring somewhere in the distance. All pretense of guards or interest in them has seemingly disappeared and Yoochun can only surmise they're in a battle. He doesn't quite let himself hope it's the others, doesn't want to. They wouldn't stand a chance, not against a ship like this and he'd rather be left here than see them all dead in some suicide rescue attempt.
Curled around himself, he rests his head on Junsu's shoulder, the other man in a fitful sleep borne purely out of exhaustion. It feels like its been weeks, but maybe only days. He doesn't know, doesn't care. Junsu looks small and sick from hunger, pain, fatigue. Yoochun does his best to slide his arm around the other man without aggravating his wounds, huddling close. To an outsider, they must look little better than caged animals.
The constant shudder of the ship's floors rouses his cellmate. Blinking at the flickering lights, he seems, for a moment, disoriented before he recovers his bearings. Acheron. Cell. Trapped. His attention naturally turns to Yoochun.
"What's happening?"
Yoochun wets his lips, trying to force some saliva into his throat before he speaks. "Alarms have been going off. No one's come. I think there's a battle."
"Cerberus?" comes the predictable, hopeful bit of nonsense Junsu should know better than to utter. "Do you think they've come for us?" Months ago and he would've kept mum on such unsubstantiated dreams. Since then, he's been put through torture and pain and fear and he's been given something to lose. Yoochun. He has to hope.
Yoochun swallows hard. "I...the Ceberus wouldn't stand a chance. They've been at it for a long time now. I don't..." He sees the hope flicker from Junsu's eyes, something twisting in his stomach. "I don't know, Su-ah."
Their fingers lace together even here, even in this place.
"If it's rebels... they'll kill us the next time they come." Bruised egos are the worst thing you can expect in executioners. Pain in a dead man is easiest to procure. A deep breath, grasp tightening and Yoochun has to bite his lip against the damning words, words they both know, both feel. He's afraid. He doesn't want to die.
"We have to get out of here. We...somehow, we have to. I'm..." he grits his teeth. "I'm not going to sit here like a dog waiting to be slaughtered." Like a bitch begging for more.
"If we can get to the lower decks, I could get us a ship, I could..." Junsu trails off. "The security system is well tied to life support. If we wait for it to fail, we'll be waiting to run out of oxygen." He's studied the plans over the years, he had to pass more than one exam on knowing exactly how everything worked on the Acheron. Didn't help him then, won't help him now unless they can find a way to use it.
"When they come," Yoochun says grimly. "We they come to do it, that's when we move. And if they fucking kill us...at least we'll have tried." He tightens his grasp on Junsu's hand.
"They'll kill us," Junsu protests, horrified. "We stand no chance." For one, those bastards have guns. Two, both Junsu and Yoochun are in no state to fight.
Yoochun turns to him, eyes flashing. "You said it yourself, they will kill us anyway. Better a chance of escape than a slow death at their hands."
Junsu takes a deep breath, looking to the door. Yoochun can almost hear the thoughts rushing through his head, the calculations, the conclusions. Teeth tug at an already split lip, eyes on Junsu's back until the other man turns, mouth set in a thin line of determination. A single sharp nod gives his answer and Yoochun takes a deep breath.
All they have to do now is wait.