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It wasn’t abnormal for the jobs Fate chose to be difficult to pull off. He was always one for something showy and that often went hand in hand with risky, and ordinarily- Graves wouldn’t mind. Mostly because the worst case scenario of a plan gone wrong usually included collateral damage and several buildings ablaze- in short, a good time.
Graves could trust Fate’s plans and could usually count on him to salvage them when they went wrong- but this time the plan involved capture.
Maybe in their younger years Graves wouldn’t be worried about something like that, but now he had more experience under his belt. Very unpleasant experience that he’d rather not repeat. Tobias told him it was simply part of a distraction while he stole the item they were after, and after everything they’d been through, Malcolm knew the other wouldn’t leave him behind like that.
But the possibility that he might was rearing its head. Something was… off this time, and he was beginning to regret ever agreeing to this. He wasn’t sure what it was- maybe the rough texture of the ropes, or the fact that they were in Zaun- that was hard to forget, he could feel it with every stinging breath- but it all made him distinctly uneasy.
Though anyone would be uneasy in his predicament, tied up and hanging from a meat hook by the rope on his wrists- and with his partner nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for him to lose track of how long he’d been there, repeating to himself in his mind that he hadn’t actually been captured. Tobias was coming back for him, this was the plan.
Soon enough the door to the room he’d been held in swung open. Graves expected Tobias, but the ‘what took you so long?’ Died in his throat as he was met with the sight of one of his captors. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Graves had no doubt that T.F could take out one guy but what if the corridor was guarded? What if the sounds of a struggle altered them? What if they got Tobias too-
The thoughts came rushing faster than he could keep up with them. He could see the man’s lips moving- gloating no doubt- but he couldn’t hear any of it, the words sounding muffled through the ringing in his ears. Or at least they did until he saw them form the word Locker.
Tobias had told him many times that his poker face was practically nonexistent- so it was no surprise when he felt himself freeze before he could prevent the reaction, his whole body tensing. His captor seemed to notice and only now could Graves hear him horribly clearly,
“Hah, you thought I didn’t know who you are?” Every word sinks like a stone to the bottom of Graves’ stomach as the man steps closer and closer. “Malcolm Graves, the only man to escape the Locker.” He grins as he slips the tip of a dagger beneath Graves’ chin, forcing him to look up. “There’s quite a bounty over your head.”
The mention of the prison sends an unpleasant shiver through his body, the room suddenly seeming colder than the blade just barely pressed to his skin. He tried to remain stoic but the fear in his eyes must have been visible as the man begins to taunt “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to have you back.”
Suddenly the dagger is taken away and before he can slump- the man’s other hand shoots up to grab his face. Calloused fingers grip his cheeks hard enough to hurt as he leans in close enough for Malcolm to feel breath against his skin as he speaks. “But I’m gonna have my fun with you first. Think they’ll mind some damaged goods?”
He laughs, before stepping back and once again leaving Graves to hang from his binds, the rope digging into his skin with an all too familiar burn. A cold, numb feeling was beginning to seep through his body, his fingers tingling and losing feeling. He felt exposed, defenseless and vulnerable as he’d been in his cell. The material around his wrists suddenly starts feeling far too much like metal cuffs, rubbing and chafing at the previously toughened skin beneath them.
His eyes stared blankly at the room he was in, no longer seeing it in favour of memories of a dark damp cell. It was disorienting- the way the imagery flashed behind his eyes, vision growing spotted at the edges as his breathing quickened. He could feel every sharp breath sting his throat, his chest aching in protest.
He feels as if he’s dangling from the edge of a cliff, clinging desperately to reality as his mind tries to pull him under. For what feels like forever, he’s suspended between the past and present, a level of awareness of his surroundings remaining even as he feels himself slipping.
And then he hears the scraping of metal tools, catches glimpses of a blade- suddenly plunging him back into his time strapped to a table and vulnerable to any ‘punishment’ seen fit. He’s defenseless, suspended and vulnerable at his captor’s mercy.
All he can do is thrash and cry out as he falls deeper and deeper into pure panic. The plan is completely forgotten as he’s thrown into a frenzy of flashbacks, unable to pull away as a blade slashes open the front of his shirt. It catches his skin enough to sting but not enough to pull him out of his mind, simply amplifying the pain he remembered.
Tears stream down his face before he can blink them away, his throat already raw from his shrieks of protest. He’s lost enough in his fear that he doesn’t notice his captor is grinning, pulling the fabric away to reveal his chest before picking up a scalpel.
“Think I’ll start small.” He says, as he slowly begins to press the blade to Malcolm’s skin. “Can’t have you bleeding out. They’ll want you alive. ” The initial sting of pain as the metal pierced his flesh is all that registers before suddenly chaos erupts.
There’s a flash of bright blue light as Twisted Fate appears as if from thin air, the man whipping around just in time to be hit square in the chest by a gold card. While he was immobilised, Fate grabbed him by the head and slammed him into a wall. There was a splatter of blood left behind and the black haired man couldn’t be sure if the man was dead or unconscious. Thankfully- he didn’t care.
He then turned his attention to Malcolm, ready to happily tell him about his success in swiping the artefact before he saw the state he was in. Fate feels his heart sink, seeing the tear tracks down the other’s face, eyes wide and glassy. His eyes trailed down to his chest, seeing the sliced shirt and blood slowly leaking from a clean cut beneath- his body was shaking as he breathed sharp, and fast. So instead, shakily, T.F asks “Malcolm?”
His partner doesn’t respond, shaking and staring blankly at the ground. Fate tries to step in front of him- to get a closer look, but aside from the gash on his front, Graves appears uninjured. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to trail up to where Graves’ wrists were bound, and then he puts two and two together.
He knew he needed to cut the other down as soon as he could- looking around frantically for something to slice the rope with. Immediately, his eyes landed on a scalpel that had clattered to the ground during his tryst with Graves’ captor. It was shiny and, upon picking it up Fate realised, speckled with blood. He felt a little sick at that, realising what it had been used for quickly- but regardless, he reaches up and slices at the rope as fast as he can.
As soon as it fray’s enough to break against Malcolm’s weight, the man falls from the hook. Tobias is fully prepared to catch him, to hold him- but as soon as his hands touch the other’s back, Graves’ panic only seems to worsen.
He shoves Fate away and backs himself into the corner, shaking with his hands still outstretched, still not seeming entirely aware of his surroundings. He still doesn’t say anything but the movement was a good sign that he wasn’t entirely unresponsive. His partner had helped him out of these states before but never on a job or on a time limit. It mostly happened after nightmares or arguments, Fate couldn’t imagine how much worse it could be after being captured, bound, cut-
Before he can allow himself to steer into panic he takes a shaky breath, thinking through what usually helps. He’d killed most of the people who had spotted him, the possibility of them being found or attacked was there but not likely enough that he really had to rush . That couldn’t be his main focus right now- right now he needed to help his partner.
Slowly, he approaches the other, careful not to let his footsteps become too loud. He was never sure exactly what was going through Malcolm’s head but he knew that being quiet and cautious seemed to help, and so far the other hadn’t flinched away. His next move was bolder, reaching out to take Graves’ hand.
When things were especially bad for the other, he’d on occasion lashed out, thinking Fate to be an attacker but thankfully this time- he only jolted slightly in surprise. Tobias slowly weaves their fingers together, hearing the other’s breathing pick up in speed- but most importantly he doesn’t pull away.
“You’re okay, Malcolm.” He whispers, watching the other look up at him- he takes it as a good sign. “I’m here.” There had been occasions where Graves hadn’t thought he was real- that he was still in the Locker, delusional and imagining Fate had come back.
The black haired man wasn’t sure if this was one of those times but regardless, for extra reassurance, he gently brought the other’s hand to his chest to rest over his heart. It helped, to be able to feel it, he realised.
Thankfully it seems to calm the other down, if only slightly. His breathing slows and Fate can see some of the tension drop from his shoulders. With Graves seeming slightly more present, Fate figures he should keep talking, beginning to explain. “The job is done, you’re safe.”
“You-“ Malcolm mutters in response, seeming to struggle. Fate simply waits for him to finish what he was trying to say, feeling his heart sink as the other breathes out, pained “ You weren’t here.”
The guilt hits Fate immediately at that, subconsciously tightening his hold on his partner’s hand. “I never left the building- I’d never leave you- “ he rushes to assure, but Graves simply shakes his head, tears still beading in his eyes.
“I thought they got you-“ he admits, shaking as he presses his palm harder to Fate’s chest, trying to focus on the pulse he feels beneath it- not wanting to sink back into his distress as he explains. “Th-they could’ve sent us to the Locker .“
Just the mention of the prison has Fate tensing- thinking he should’ve known better than to put Graves in a situation where those fears were so prevalent. After a moment of deliberation, he carefully let go of his partner’s hand and instead moved to pull him closer, slowly reaching around to his back.
Malcolm flinched at first but didn’t fight him, allowing Fate to wrap his arms around him. Eventually, he leaned into the touch, letting the other support him as he rested his head on the black haired man’s shoulder. He still felt off- skin tingling as the numbness faded and the cut on his chest stinging, but for a moment he forgot all about it- he was safe, warm-
“You’re not going back there.” Tobias says into his ear, somehow managing to sound stern despite his quiet volume. “I shouldn’t have taken so long, I didn’t mean to-“ he begins to ramble, dancing around an apology and yet taking the blame.
“Stop.” Graves mumbles into his coat, tightening his hold on the other, feeling Fate freeze. “I told you it was okay, it wasn’t your fault.” He insists, unsure of why he ever agreed in the first place.
“But I should have known -“ Fate begins to protest once more, and Graves shakes his head.
“ I told you it was okay, and i'd have been more upset if you chose not to trust me.” He sighs into the other’s shoulder, the conversation- while not nearly pleasant- helping to ground him. “I ain’t fragile .”
“I know you’re not, you’re the most durable man I know.” Tobias agrees, beginning to run his fingers through Graves’ hair, feeling him relax into his hold. “But that doesn’t mean I want you putting yourself through this for the sake of a plan.”
“I can handle it-“ Malcolm argues back, ignoring the lingering fear coursing through him. He didn’t want to do it again, but it worked right? He’d had much worse-
“Just cos you can doesn’t mean you should,” the other mutters, and Graves feels as relieved as he does guilty. “ I’m not putting you through this for money, Malcolm.”
“Okay.” He agrees, pulling away from the hug and sighing. “…can we go? I’m feeling better.” He claims, and Fate nods.
“Alright, I’m gonna shift us out, that okay?” Fate asks, pulling a card from his sleeve and twirling it over his fingers until it lands on blue. He waits for Graves to nod before pulling him close, closing his eyes as he concentrates. “We’ll take it easy tonight, you’ve had a rough day.”