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Published:
2023-10-14
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2023-12-12
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2/2
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Waterboard

Summary:

Chris just hopes they find Leon intact.
-~-
He feels jittery, nervous; a feeling that will do him no good out in the field, but he still can't seem to shake it---not when Leon's been missing for an entire day and this is the last place they know to look for him.

Part of Chris wonders if he's even still alive.

Notes:

Whumptober day 14: Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

Chapter 1: I

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The abandoned building is dark and cool, shadows pressing in around Chris as he sweeps his surroundings with a steady hand on his assault rifle. He can hear people chattering in the comm in his ear, but he's barely listening, too focused on the empty rooms and the shouts of 'Clear!' echoing down the hall from the rest of his squad. He feels jittery, nervous; a feeling that will do him no good out in the field, but he still can't seem to shake it---not when Leon's been missing for an entire day and this is the last place they know to look for him.

Chris quickens his pace without realizing, Piers a familiar shadow to his left. He knows it's far from productive, but his churning mind keeps agonizing over what condition Leon might be in---his overactive imagination has plenty of fuel from seeing Leon covered in blood on more than one occassion, and he doesn't know if he can take seeing him like that again. Not after he'd disappeared right under Chris's nose during what was supposed to be a routine mission.

A darker part of him wonders if Leon's even still alive. 

They're almost to the end of the hallway, Leon nowhere in sight, when Chris hears it---the bark of a loud voice demanding answers and the sound of splashing water. 

"Here!" he hisses to Piers, darting into position beside a metal door set two spaces away from the end. Piers nods, preparing himself, and Chris steels himself for what he might be about to see. 

Breaching the door is easy, the handle giving way under his hand as he throws it open, rifle raised and aimed at the figures in the centre of the room. Piers shouts for them to put their hands up, but not before Chris catches sight of the semi-nude man strapped down to a sloping, padded table, strands of damp blonde hair hanging out from under the sodden rag plastered to his face. Leon. He's gurgling, writhing and thrashing under a deluge of water that a short, stocky man is pouring over the cloth, effectively suffocated by the seal it makes. Chris sees red.

"Down on the ground, now!" he roars, watching his team members filter into the room and begin to detain the three men hanging over Leon's vulnerable body like vultures. It doesn't take them long, but it's enough time for Chris to take in the sight of Leon's beaten torso, a smattering of small cuts and dark bruises visible on his bare skin. He's wearing nothing but underwear.

Chris rushes to Leon's side, panic fluttering under his ribcage as he pulls the wet rag from over Leon's face. Leon coughs, sputtering, and Chris is quick to slide an arm around his back and help him upright. He's shivering under Chris's hands, bare shoulders dotted with goosebumps and fresh bruises. His hands clench where they're still strapped to the inclined table. 

"Chris?" he rasps, eyes glazed and half-lidded when he manages to pry them open. Chris's stomach goes cold when he sees how dilated the pupils are---they must have drugged him, too, in an effort to make him talk. Leon's head lolls as he tries to look up at Chris, a frown creasing the space between his brows. "You're here?" 

"Of course," Chris murmurs, shifting so he can prop Leon up with an arm and deal with the restraint on his wrist with the other. "Just hold on, and we'll get you out of here, okay? Are you hurt?"

"Chris, I..." Leon glances around anxiously, eyes wide and panicked when he looks back up at Chris. "I didn't---didn't tell them anything. They wanted---wanted t' know about the mission, and---and I promise I didn't---"

"Hey, it's okay," Chris soothes, reaching over Leon's lap to unbelt the next strap. Leon's voice is a frantic slur of melting syllables, and Chris brushes a careful thumb over the curve of his back in an effort to calm him. He's clearly out of it, and the fact he's so worried about proving his resilience before anything else makes something in Chris's chest hurt. He's not sure what kind of torture training the DSO gives their operatives, but he can't imagine they're often concerned with prioritizing comfort---from what Leon's told him, they don't even expect to send in rescue missions in the first place.

"Didn't tell them," Leon repeats, insistent, but his eyelids are beginning to flutter. His hands are limp when Chris organizes them in his lap, long fingers curved protectively around the palms. Chris can't help but notice the red marks around his wrists, raised and bloodied from what must have been handcuffs at one point, and he presses a kiss to Leon's forehead to hide the wave of emotion that rushes over him. 

"I got you," he murmurs, voice low. "You're safe now. Try to stay awake, okay?" 

"Captain?" 

Piers is at his side, already unraveling a metallic shock blanket he must have retrieved from his first aid supplies. He smiles apologetically, then gestures to the men being held to the ground behind him. 

"We've got them in custody; rest of the building is clear." 

"Thanks, Piers," Chris manages, yanking his composure back together as much as he can. It doesn't do Leon any good to let himself fall apart. Chris steadies himself with a breath, taking the shock blanket from Piers and tucking it over Leon's trembling body. He barely seems conscious, now, the twitching of his closed eyelids the only sign he's alive at all. 

"Medics have been informed. They're waiting for you," Piers continues, patting Chris on the back. "Get him out of here; we'll take care of the rest." 

It's easy enough to undo the rest of Leon's restraints and pick him up in a bridal carry, the room and hallway blurring around Chris as he makes his way back through the building and out into the dusty autumn day. Leon doesn't say a word, skin feverish where his forehead rests against Chris's shoulder in a spot the TAC vest doesn't cover. They make it to evac without obstacle, a medic meeting them at the ramp. 

"He's not injured, as far as I know," Chris says, settling into one of the seats that line the cargo helicopter's walls. "They drugged him up with something, though, and he might have inhaled some water." 

The medic nods, already unwrapping the shock blanket to reveal Leon's battered ribcage. Chris is loath to let go of him, comforted by the weight of Leon's body in his arms, but luckily the medic doesn't seem interested in making him lay on a cot. She has a stethoscope in hand, settling it into her ears before she presses the metal diaphragm to Leon's shallowly-rising chest. Leon flinches at the touch, moaning as he comes back to consciousness, and Chris shushes him.

"You're safe, Leon," he says gently, voice low. "Try to stay still, okay?" 

Leon's eyes flicker open, confused and glassy. He mumbles something unintelligible, shifting when the medic unpeels the blanket further to palpate his ribs. He winces once when her hands find a particularly purple spot, then settles against Chris with a sharp exhale, fingers curling in the blanket. The medic finishes her examination quickly, retrieving a second cloth blanket that she wraps around Leon's shoulders, and nods in satisfaction.

"Hard to tell what they gave him," she begins, and Chris snaps to attention, hanging on to every word. "We should get him to medical as soon as we can, but he seems stable for now. Couple of broken ribs and some dehydration, but nothing major. Let me know if he starts coughing or wheezing at all." 

She smiles, patting Leon's knee where it's stretched out on the seat beside Chris, and rises, heading towards the cockpit. The helicopter fires up a moment later, humming underneath them. Leon stirs for a second time, blinking, and Chris reaches up to cup his jaw.

"How are you feeling?" he asks over the roar of the rotors firing up, the brown of his hands at odds with Leon's too-pale skin. Leon frowns again, bleary, and turns his head slightly to scan his surroundings. He doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, gaze tracking lazily back over to Chris a moment later. 

"Cold," he mumbles, and Chris readjusts the blankets, bundling him up as best as he can. The lack of proper clothing probably doesn't help, nor does Leon's wet hair, but there's nothing to be done about it now. He forces a smile, tucking the edge of the blanket under Leon's chin the way he always sees Leon do when he's stubbornly ignoring Chris's pleas to get out of bed in the morning. Leon sighs, curling into Chris's chest, and he's out a moment later, the takeoff of the helicopter rocking him gently with the turbulence. 

Chris strokes the side of his face, watching years of stress melt away in unconsciousness. His brow evens out, lips slightly parted, and Chris feels a rush of protectiveness. He readjusts his grip, hugging Leon close and guiding his head to rest in the hollow of Chris's collarbone. He tries and fails to ignore the lump in his throat, feeling Leon's soft breaths ghost over his skin.

He's never going to let go of this.

Notes:

I always forget to add this, but come check me out on tumblr as @silvercap!

Chapter 2: II

Notes:

For the person who commented on the first chapter about a follow-up! Hopefully this is what you were looking for <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Leon barely reacts when Chris places a pillow beneath his head, staring dazedly up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Readjusting the blanket around his shoulders and shifting his bandaged wrists where they sit securely in a pair of medical-grade braces doesn’t seem to alert him, either, his eyelids only fluttering when Chris brushes the ghost of a kiss over his forehead, careful of the extensive bruising on every patch of exposed skin. His pupils are dilated and unfocused, short tremors shuddering through his body with every laboured breath he takes. Chris can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. 

This is his fault for not being more careful; for letting Leon wander off alone and not managing to rescue him before his captors could break several ribs. The soft tissues and tendons in Leon’s wrists are damaged and inflamed from how hard he must have been pulling at his restraints at one point, and the ‘truth serum’ drugs they’d forced into his body still refuse to dissipate. The doctors at the hospital had anticipated that he might be out of it for up to eight more hours, depending on when he’d been dosed, and Chris hates the blank state Leon’s been reduced to. It’s so unlike him, to be so still and vacant like this. Chris squeezes Leon’s fingers gently. 

“We’re home, now,” he murmurs, glancing down the length of Leon’s body where he’s stretched out on the couch to make sure the blanket covers his legs. He smooths out the fabric, turning back to Leon with a weak attempt at a smile. “Do you need anything?” 

“We’re home?” Leon rasps hoarsely, a light frown creasing his brow. His fingers twitch where Chris has laid them over his abdomen, eyelids falling to half-mast as he stares hazily up at Chris’s face. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, he’s stuck somewhere on the verge of sleep, but Chris wants to make sure Leon’s not in too much pain before he lets him rest. 

“Yeah,” Chris says, brushing his thumb rhythmically over Leon’s knee beneath the blanket. “Do you want some water?”

“Mmm. No.” Leon’s eyes close a moment later, body going limp against the cushions as he succumbs to sleep. Chris sighs. It’s good for Leon to rest, he knows, and the drugs will be less of a problem if he can just sleep them off, but Chris dislikes how the slackness of Leon’s face highlights how gaunt and sick he looks. Leon had only been missing for a few days, but he seems to have shrunken into himself in that time, the wounds and skin-tight bandages scattered across his lithe body making him look oddly small. There’s a chance for lung infection from the water and stress, but his airways had been passably clear when the doctors had checked them over and Chris tries to console himself with the knowledge that he’ll likely heal well. 

He feels so useless like this, reduced to an observer who can offer little more than over-the-counter pain pills and a blanket or two. In the face of everything Leon’s just been through—aside from the obvious injuries and the drugs, there had been evidence of electrocution burns on his body, and the bags under his eyes are deeper than usual—it feels like his attempts at comfort are little more than bandaids, tiny strips of gauze and adhesive he’s trying to apply to a stab wound. Thankfully, that’s just a metaphor, but Chris wishes there was more he could do to take the pain away for even a moment. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He should call Jill, let her know that—

Leon jerks awake with a gasp, bandaged hands clenching the blanket as his muscles jolt him back into awareness. His eyes roll back in his skull a moment later, sheer exhaustion forcing him under until his body spasms again, panic and confusion mingling in his gaze before his eyelids flutter closed again. It happens several times over the span of the next few minutes, Leon’s overworked nervous system refusing him the relaxation his body needs. He goes limp for a long moment in which Chris thinks he might have finally slipped deep enough to avoid waking up again, but another jolt interrupts his peace without warning, and enough is enough. Chris reaches out to run his hands down Leon’s upper arms in what he hopes is a soothing motion, carefully leaning over him to meet Leon’s wild gaze. 

“It’s okay,” Chris says in a hushed tone, sliding his hand upwards to brush Leon’s messy hair from where it’s fallen in front of his eyes. “You’re okay. We’re home now, remember? You’re safe.” 

Leon makes a strangled noise, but he leans willingly into Chris’s hand, a single tear sliding out from beneath his lids when he closes them again. Something shatters in Chris’s chest. He carefully maneuvers Leon into a sitting position, Leon wincing and making awful pained sounds in the back of his throat as he does, but his expression evens out the moment Chris lays him across his lap and it’s worth it just to see him calm down. He tucks a thick arm over Leon’s waist, careful of his injuries. 

“I’m here,” he promises, reaching for the remote to turn the TV on to something mindless, in hopes that the background noise will be enough to fill the silence. It’s a documentary of some sort, the kind Leon likes to watch but is always embarrassed about, a glow of ocean blue splashed across the screen that’s filled with brightly colored fish darting cheerfully between stalks of coral. Chris ignores the lump in his throat, aimlessly stroking Leon’s hip with his thumb. When he looks down again, Leon’s eyes are closed, and this time they stay that way.

He watches Leon sleep for a long time, the TV program gradually changing to another jungle-themed documentary and then an animal conservation show, but Chris isn’t really paying attention. He cards his fingers through Leon’s messy hair until it starts looking smooth again, Leon not even stirring when they catch on invisible tangles. It’s been a couple hours by the time he starts waking up, Chris almost on the verge of sleep himself until he feels Leon shift on his lap. He glances down in time to see Leon’s brow knit together, eyes cloudy with sleep as he blinks hazily up at Chris. 

“You’re back,” Chris says softly, smiling. “How are you feeling?” 

“Chris,” Leon mumbles, almost a question. He hesitates, visibly thinking the question over, and Chris takes the time to turn the TV volume down a couple notches. Leon looks lost. “I’m fine, I think. Tired.” 

He looks better than he had a few hours ago, more alert, though Chris can tell by the sluggish drag of his hands over the blanket that he’s not fully aware of himself yet. Chris leans down to press a chaste kiss to the crease of his eyebrows. 

“Why don’t I get you some water. Are you hungry?” 

Leon nods mutely, and Chris extricates himself slowly, mentally adding a dose of ibuprofen to his mental list when Leon sucks in a painful breath through his teeth. Chris helps him settle on the couch, tucking the pillow back beneath his head. Leon sighs, eyelids already flickering shut again, and Chris fights down a pang of worry. Rest is good, he reminds himself, rising to head to the kitchen before he’s convinced to stay and hover. Leon takes the water and pills easily, and Chris decides halfway back to the kitchen that eggs and bacon sounds like all he’s ready to cook right now. He’d considered takeout, but he knows how much Leon likes his breakfast, and the act of cracking eggshells and flipping hash brown potatoes is familiar enough to lose himself in. 

Leon is sitting upright by the time he gets back to the living room with two sets of loaded plates and utensils, flipping channels until he lands on a rerun of Jeopardy! . They don’t exchange many words aside from Chris making sure he’s feeling okay and helping him set up a bag of ice against his broken ribs, Leon oddly quiet as he watches Alex Trebek ask trivia questions between careful bites of eggs. Usually they try to answer them together, shouting over one another and complaining about irritating contestants, but Chris gets the feeling that neither of them are in the mood tonight. Leon doesn’t finish his plate, but he leans into Chris’s side once he’s placed the remains on the coffee table, head pillowing on Chris’s chest the way he does almost every time they watch TV together. He’s half asleep again by the time the ice comes off ten minutes later, and Chris can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he offers, scooping his arms beneath a sleepy, uncomplaining Leon who immediately tucks his head against Chris’s neck. He’s dressed in a button-up shirt, so it’s easy to help him out of his clothes and under the covers once they get upstairs, and Chris changes quickly out of his own t-shirt and jeans. Leon’s eyes are already closed as Chris slides into bed beside him, a faint smile on his lips when Chris kisses his temple the only sign he’s awake at all. Chris nestles as close to Leon as he dares, not wanting to disturb his injuries but knowing how cold Leon gets at night, and Leon immediately leans into him with a sigh. Chris interlocks their fingers under the blanket. 

“I love you,” he says seriously, voice low. An overwhelming wave of emotion has him choking back tears, but he manages to keep his voice steady, ignoring the rasp of it when the words catch slightly in the back of his throat. “Let me know if—if you need anything, okay? If the pain gets to be too much, or—” 

“Love you, too,” Leon murmurs, chest already rising and falling in an even rhythm, and Chris makes a choked sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He squeezes Leon’s fingers, rubbing a thumb over the jut of his knuckles.

“Goodnight, Leon.” He waits a moment, then adds, “It’ll be better in the morning.” 

He’s not sure if he’s just talking to himself or not, but Chris welcomes sleep when it comes, Leon’s hand the only thing he feels as he slips into the dark. 

Notes:

Agh, they're so soft. I'm totally studying for my exam right now. Find me on tumblr @silvercap!