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endless-whump · 5 years

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Captivity, Part 4

Whumptober day 16/17: Pinned Down/Stay With Me

This is the last one for the series! (I think). I will most likely continue writing DBH fics that exist in this AU of sorts, so for example if I write another series, this one is still canon in that timeline/AU. Hope you guys have enjoyed!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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Conner woke up to new hands gripping, pulling, twisting. His eyes snapped open in panic in an attempt to identify the source of the unwelcome touch, and locked on the faces of two unfamiliar men hovering over him.

Their strong hands pinned him by his arms and legs onto the ground, holding a painfully tight grip that dug into old injuries.

Countless thoughts ran through Conner’s mind. Pain, fear, curiosity, anticipation. What were they here for, what were they going to do to him.

All the unanswered questions and worries crowded his mind as he lay there, fingers twitching but not even daring to move too much, in fear they’d take it as a sign of defiance, or a sign of struggle.

His head pounded, making it hard to focus, but it was nothing compared to the sharp, tingling pains that plagued his beaten limbs. The pressure of hands on his wrists and right below his knees dug into his bruised and bleeding injuries with excruciating pressure.

He tried his hardest not to move or struggle on instinct, knowing that could just jostle his injuries more, and possibly aggravate his assaulters.

“Whatever you used to fry the damn things systems obviously didn’t work well, they’ve still got a tracker on him.” One of the men pinning Conner barked, looking back at who he assumed to be John, standing by the doorway.

“Whatever, just get the damn thing out and we can be done with it.”

One of the hands shifted, and Conners eyes widened at the sight of a knife being brought up close to his face. He couldn’t stop himself as he weakly tugged his arms in panic, only causing the men to dig their fingers further into his damaged skin as expected.

“N-no, stop, please don’t, plea-“ his plea was cut off by a sharp kick to his injured knee, earning a soft whine of pain as the deviant quieted down.

The knife was brought up to his forehead, where his led was cruelly pried off the side of his brow, blue therium seeping down his face from the damage.

Nononono, that was bad. His led was his tracker. The precinct had activated a new one after discovering the original ones didn’t work in deviants, for this exact type of scenario. Conner has assumed it was fried and didn’t work, considering none of his other systems did. The soft glimmer of hope died before it could even spark, now that it was gone.

They planned to simply dump him somewhere, let him bleed out or freeze or something, whatever caused him to shutdown first. Conner didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid to die, afraid of his life slowly draining away in a heap of misery and pain.

He didn’t want Hank to find him like that, all beaten up and broken, covered in blue blood and limbs twisted where they weren’t supposed to. He didn’t want Hank to find him and feel like he had failed.

He didn’t want Hank to feel guilt over his death. Conner didn’t know if he’d be able to handle that.

Everything hurt. Everything was so sore and tired and worn out, Conner simply closed his eyes, breathing heavily with soft wheezes under the pressure of his broken chest.

His fingers continued to twitch slightly with twinges of pain, but the men above him fortunately didn’t seem to notice.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt the arms around him lift, and he gasped slightly as he found himself being pulled towards the door of the cabin, the henchmen conversing with John as he led the way.

“Better get rid of the thing before the feds come after us. The snow is letting up and that tracker was probably still working until we pried it off.”

They were headed towards the back of the cabin, dragging Conner by the arms and letting his legs drag in the semi-deep snow. His head hung limply, too weak to be lifted, so he couldn’t quite see where they were going.

The terrain remained somewhat even until Conner found himself looking down into a sudden slope in the ground, barely having time to react before he was dropped, rolling limply through the snow into the ditch.

It wasn’t a very far fall, especially with the snow to cushion any sort of collision, but he rolled over or twice before coming to a stop, his body sinking into the deep snowbank of the ravine.

The cold snow burned icily into his exposed skin, quickly soaking through the thin layer of clothing he had remaining, a pair of pants and his white undershirt. It stung numbly, especially on the exposed cuts in his wrists and ankles.

He made an attempt to shift his arm underneath him, rising up a little bit before he felt something crack, and he fell back to the ground with a whine, gritting his teeth.

Sharp pain surged through his arm, and he evaluated that there were at least two places where it was broken from the blows of the crowbar. Trying to put weight on it probably just made it snap the rest of the way, he thought to himself.

The storm had let up a bit, but a soft, steady amount of snow was still falling from the sky, covering Conner with a thin, white layer. He gave an attempt at his legs, but they weren't in much better condition, and he felt sick when he reached down, running his hands lightly over them and finding deep, awkwardly bent dents.

He sighed, shivering slightly as he felt his biocomponents slow, his therium pumping slower, and his ventilation components whirring desperately trying to keep up with the extensive damage done to his frame.

He was going to lay there and die, and there was nothing he could do about it, he thought to himself. Everything he had done would be for nothing, John would get away, and he would die alone, and then Hank would be alone. He would never get to see Sumo again. He sniffed as he realized he was now crying, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face.

He shut his eyes, resigning to stay as still as possible so at least he wouldn't be in as much pain, and allowed his systems emergency stasis mode to take over.

He barely noticed the hand on his back as muddled voices sounded above him. He flinched, curling in on himself to escape the unwelcome touch as his senses slowly started coming back to him. His already uneven breath hitched as he started to panic, to pull away.

“-ont move.” he caught someone say, almost muffled. More hands descended on his and he was flipped carefully onto his back, but the gentle movement still caused him to grit his teeth.

“Oh my god, Conner.” A hand cupped his face, and his initial reaction was to flinch away, but he didn't have the energy to. His mind felt slow foggy, processing everything delayed. He forced his eyes open, finding himself staring up at Hanks worried face.

“h,,hank?” The deviant whispered weakly.

“Yes, son, we’re gonna get you out of here, your going to be ok, I promise. Just stay with me, ok?”

“msorry, I just, s,,sorr,-”

Fingers ran through his matted, wet hair comfortingly as Hank tried to reassure him.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, son, just hang in there, you're safe. Your going home.”

Home? He had thought about home a lot. He thought about all the things he missed or would never see again. Was he really going home? To Sumo, to Hank?

He felt himself being lifted, being moved, but he almost didn't quite register it. Everything that was happening seemed distant, like he was watching it from afar. He was so tired. Conner let his eyes slip shut, because they were so heavy. Thats what you were supposed to do, right? When you were tired, you were supposed to give in, to go to sleep? If that was the case, why were there hands shaking him, alarmed voices begging him to stay awake? Why did they want him to stay awake so badly?

He was so tired, he simply wanted to ignore them, and fade away. He wanted to let the pain and the cold fade away. And they did.

——-

Warmth surrounded Conner as he cracked his eyes open, and found himself staring into the face of a very concern looking Sumo. He was wrapped in several layers of soft blankets, laying slightly propped up in what he recognized as Hanks bed.

Gasping he sat up, instantly regretting it as his chest erupted in sharp pains. He grimaced, settling back down as Hank walked through the door, looking relieved.

“Thank God, your awake.”

Conner raised a shaky hand towards him.

“H-Hank?”

Hank rushed forward, grasping Conners bandaged hand gently and allowing the deviant to fall forward in an embrace as the tears started. His fingers gripped the back of his sweater, taking in the familiar warmth and musky smell of his father as he shoved his face into Hanks shoulder.

“It’s ok, your safe, go ahead and cry, your alright.” Hank said comfortingly, running his hands through the back of Conners hair in reassurance. Softly, he laid the Android back down onto the bed, trying not to jostle him too much.

Conner grabbed the edge of the heavy blanket covering him, lifting it to see his legs and torso layered with white bandages

“H-how bad was it?”

Hank met his eyes solomnly, brushing a hand through his hair.

“You were pretty beat up. Both knees had to be replaced, and they had to go in and seal several breaks in your legs, arms, and chest.”

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with something.

“I, I didn’t think you were going to make it. It was bad, really bad. You were half frozen when we found you, and you wouldn’t wake up even after your repairs. They really fucked up your systems.”

Remembering, Conners hands flew to his brow, and he felt the familiar, round led.

“They fixed it?” He said to himself. Sure enough, he was able to operate his cybernetic communications again. He sighed with relief.

“Your ventilator and therium pump were broken and frozen, so it took a lot to fix, but everything seems to be working normal, at least that’s what the technician said.”

“How long have I been out?” Conner said, looking up to Hank.

“Almost two days. You were missing for over a week, Conner.”

It felt like years.

“Well, your on bedrest for now,” Hank sighed. “Your legs are still pretty fucked up, and you need to drink up in some warm therium for the time being, to help your pump thingy regulating again or whatever.”

He tucked the blanket back around Conner, standing up. The deviant reached a bandaged hand out to him.

“Could, could you maybe stay?” He asked timidly. Hank looked down at him, a soft, concerned smile spreading on his face. “Yea, son. If you want.” He sat next to Conner, gripping his hand. Sumo, who had been laying next to him, snuggled up closer, grumbling contently as Conner ran his fingers through the dogs fur.

It was comforting. He was safe, tucked into a warm bed with Sumo and Hank by his side, just like he had so longed for in the past hellish days. He was ok.

He was finally home.

#whumptober 2019 #whump #no. 17 #dbh #rescue #pinned down #stay with me #conner #hank #angst #whumptober #day 17 #day 16 #no. 16 #prompt

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