already_lost | For Chuck and Dan

When Laura slept, she dreamed.

Her dreams, for as long as she could remember, were so vivid, often so clear and familiar, that she couldn't distinguish them from consciousness. She had memories she couldn't be sure had actually happened to her, both horrific and mundane. Evil things, greedy things, had visited her all her life in her dreams, and she often sought out the things she wasn't supposed to want during the safety of sleep.

Lifting her head, Laura wiped at her mouth, frowning at the dried piece of hay stuck to her cheek. Was she dreaming? It was dark, a glowing red flare of light piercing the blackness ahead of her, but she couldn't focus enough to tell what it was. Her vision swam, her head pounding with each heartbeat, and she prodded at her hairline with a wince. Her fingertips came away stained with her own blood.

"Am I dreaming?" She murmured to herself, swaying woozily as she pushed herself upright. She sat, wearing the pajamas she'd slept in the night before. It had been cold, even piled under blankets, and she'd burrowed under the covers in an oversized sweatshirt belonging to Chuck, and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Now, she was burning up, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. Groaning, she plucked at the front of her sweatshirt, peeling it away from her body, scrambling up onto her knees and shuffling forward until she was pressed against the bars of her cage.

A cage.

"Oh my God," she moaned, rattling the bars weakly. They were heavy, rusted metal, too narrow for her to fit through, and beyond, there was a huge, raging fire... A coal burning stove.

"Oh my God," she wailed, yanking harder on the bars, an angry sob caught in her throat. "Hello! Hello! Is anyone there? Hello! Let me out of here! Oh please, God, let me out!"

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In a jaeger, Chuck was, until the very end, virtually unstoppable. He had the highest kill count in the PPDC, the most advanced equipment, a natural in the machines he'd spent most of his childhood around, and a hell of a lot of anger to fuel him. Only a busted bomb release is what did him in at the end. Though he doesn't regret the choice he made, he likes to think that, had that release not been jammed, he would have walked away from that fight at the end.

He doesn't know what the hell he would have done after that, but that's entirely beside the point.

As capable as he may be, though, it isn't as if he's never lost a fight with another person before. This just might be the most humiliating, and the most goddamn terrifying. He'd thought, when those things broke in and attacked, that they were coming after Laura, who'd seemed at first to be their target, and he'd done his best to defend her. He hadn't expected to be overpowered, or that the next thing he knew, he'd be stuck in a fucking cage.

Sitting back in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest, he's bruised and angry and, though he'd be loath to admit it, terrified. Of course, being scared has only made him that much angrier, but he sets that aside as well as he's able when he hears Laura's voice, relief cutting through everything else. As quickly as he can, he scrambles in her direction. It's a sick thing to have to be grateful that at least she's close by, but he is even so.

"Laura. Laura!"

"Chuck?"

Jolting so suddenly at the sound of his voice, she banged her elbows on the iron bars in her haste to find him. Her gasp of pain was quickly forgotten as she pushed herself up on unsteady legs and rushed towards him.

There were more bars between them. Her own cell was empty, apart from herself, but she saw that there were others occupied by two, three, and in one case, five people crammed into one tiny space.

None of them mattered. She knew she would feel guilty for it later, but in that moment, she and Chuck were the only two people who mattered in the world.

Reaching through the bars towards him, she grabbed at his collar, a dry sob caught in her throat. "Chuck, oh my God. What happened? Are you okay?"

Okay doesn't seem like a word that applies to any part of this situation. For the moment, though, Chuck doesn't care, too relieved that she's alright to do anything but nod, trying to hold her as close as the bars between them will allow. Just the fact of that is fucking sickening if he thinks too hard about it, but she's here, and right now, that counts for a lot. He doesn't know what the hell he would have done if he didn't know where she wound up or what happened to her. She shouldn't have to be here at all, in whatever this fucked up place is, but since she is, at least they're beside each other.

He's no less angry, an unshakable rage simmering in him, but he can set it aside for her sake. Laura is the last person he'd want to take that out on anyway.

"Okay as I can be, I think," he says with a weak smile. He's sore and bruised, and so is his ego, but he'd rather downplay both things for the time being. One hand comes up, only a bit awkward as it strokes her hair. "Are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. My head's a little fuzzy," she admitted, gesturing with a vague wave of her hand near her temple. She turned to press her lips to his grimy palm, another sob caught in her throat.

"Where are we? Do you remember what happened?" She asked, dashing a hand across her cheek, tears smearing soot across her skin. "I was out for most of it."

Her knees buckled and she allowed herself to sit on the straw-covered floor, her fingers still gripping his shirt.

Edited 2019-07-01 19:48 (UTC)

"Barely," Chuck says. "I remember some." They'd gone for her first, he knows that much. He'd tried to fight them off, but somehow, embarrassingly, wound up overpowered. If he feels guilty for that — for not being able to protect her — he thinks it's probably better not to mention it. It's not some bullshit, misguided overprotectiveness, thinking that she can't take care of herself and he has to look out for her. Laura might not look it, but she's tough. Anyone would be crazy to underestimate her.

But fighting is all he knows how to do, all he's ever really known how to do, and he's battled bigger, tougher monsters than these. He's not entirely sure how they got to him, but he sure as hell would like to pay them back for it.

"I heard someone say we're up the mountain. Haven't seen more than this."

"Ugh," she groaned, heaving a sigh and pushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead.

"Do you think this was here before? A dungeon? You'd think somebody would've noticed it," she said, prying her grip from his shirt only to catch his hand with hers, her thumb brushing across a scrape on one of his knuckles.

"I wish there weren't bars between us right now, but I'd be freaking out if you weren't here."

"It definitely wasn't," Chuck grumbles, shaking his head. He remembers, a few years back, getting snowed in at Kagura for days on end. There'd been little to do but sit around or wander, and he thinks he'd gotten a good sense for the place then. Either he or someone else would have found it. This is something else, something different. He doesn't know how that's possible, but he's sure it is.

Right now, it doesn't seem to matter much, anyway. They're here; that part doesn't seem to be about to change. And she's close, but not close enough, his fingers intertwining with hers when she takes his hand. "Me, too," he says, his voice softening a little. "On both counts." He doesn't know what he would have done if he'd woken up and not been able to see her. He would rather be holding her, but it could be worse. "I don't know what the fuck this is about."

Edited 2019-07-13 07:07 (UTC)

"It looks like a kitchen," she pointed out, gesturing vaguely towards the huge oven and the wall of wicked looking cutting utensils and the long prep table, covered with huge pans and blackened fruit.

She giggled dazedly.

"Maybe they're going to eat us."

"Perfect. Get kidnapped just to wind up someone's meal," Chuck deadpans, though the thought is as chilling as it is ridiculous. If it is true, then he has even more questions about what the hell is going on here, but he isn't entirely sure he would want the answers to them. Really, he wants to get out of here, to get Laura out of here. Clearly, though, that isn't happening just yet.

He wishes he could tell her that he won't let anything happen to her, but he doesn't think he can make that promise under these circumstances. That thought doesn't sit well with him, either.

"Whatever it is, this is fucked."

"How many others are there?" She wondered, shifting unsteadily onto her knees and peering out into the dusty, flickering light of the dungeon. She could see people moving, and could hear their hushed voices, all of them stuffed into cages and cells just like she and Chuck were, but most of them were hidden in shadows.

"Do you see anyone we know?"

"I haven't yet," Chuck says with a shake of his head. In the dim light, it would be easy to miss someone, but at least so far, he hasn't seen anyone else he knows. He hopes it stays that way, though Laura is who he would have most wanted to keep safe. She's here too, same as him, close enough to touch but not to protect. It isn't that he thinks she would need it — Laura is strong as hell — but that he would want to do it anyway, to fight those assholes off before they could hurt her.

"There's a bunch of people, though. Why us, I don't know."

For Chuck and Dan

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