Chapter Text
JACK
It was warmer here, a slight contrast to the cold and dark cell in London. It had been a week since Jack was caught. Inevitable, but much more hopeful than fifteen years ago.
He had prepared himself for this moment, as soon as Gaines had dragged him away from the operating table and from Belle, where she lay, motionless. Fagin had shot Gaines, giving Jack a chance to run away and hide, but he hadn’t. Instead, he had run toward Belle, leaving his shot at freedom behind, just to see that she was breathing, just to see if she was alive. And she was.
He sat in the corner of his cell, in deep thought. The memories of fifteen years ago haunted him. He winced, as they all came flooding back. He was thirteen, left in a cell alone to rot. He’d begged Fagin to take him along, but they just ran off without him. He remembered how helpless he felt, how much he wished his heart would just stop at that very moment. But it didn’t. He was taken out, freed from the cell, and brought to train as a surgeon in the navy. Not by Fagin though, but someone else. Captain Grimm. The person who put him in prison in the first place.
Jack jerked back to reality clutching his heart, the weight of his past way too much to bear. He was about to collapse. Not only did they starve him for three days straight, the guards beat him for their own entertainment. They taunted him as he shrank into a corner of the cell. Even as he felt like giving up, he wouldn’t. He would hold on to the hope that Belle hadn’t forgotten him, that one day he would be able to see her again and she would still remember him. Fagin had tried using the papers to help him escape, but all it did was pardon himself. That useless fellow of an “uncle”.
He stared into space, and soon after he heard footsteps. A guard stood outside the cell, the same one who taunted him. He didn’t have his usual smirk on his face, and if Jack looked close enough, he could probably see a tinge of sympathy hidden under that mask of seriousness.
“Here you are again… to taunt me.” Jack mumbled hoarsely, the water from a day ago drying up, but loud enough for the guard to hear. He got so used to it it didn’t matter. All he had to do was endure it, and survive. Survive for another meeting with the girl he loved, the girl he risked his life for.
“Oh, Dawkins. Dramatic as usual. I’m here to deliver you food.” The guard slipped the bowls through the gaps in the bars. A small bowl of gravy and a cup of water he could possibly finish in a gulp. So he drank the water and finished his oats, then sat back in the corner he felt the cosiest in. The hay in which he gripped tightly helped keep him grounded, away from all the worry and pain.
Jack knew they were coming the moment he heard it. Footsteps clamouring down the hallway, the loud chatter and laughter of the guards. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and prepared for what was to come.
Jack stared straight ahead, pressing his eyes closed and holding his side. Then there was the familiar creak of the metal door that sounded so awfully close...
"Well if it isn't Dr. Jack Dawkins..?" Jack snapped his eyes open.
They flocked in, smug as usual. About five of them were enough to knock him out, and he knew it. He couldn't care less about this. He’d given up. All he had to do was endure.
“Leave me alone. Please…” He tried to plead, but there was no use in defending himself.
The moment Jack managed to get to his feet, a guard's fist smashed into his nose with brutal force. He stumbled back, crashing into the unforgiving stone wall before crumpling to the ground. Blood gushed from his nose, splattering the floor beneath him. Jack's head swam in a haze of pain, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself. When he raised a trembling hand to wipe away the blood that dripped down to his mouth, a guard grabbed his arm with a vice-like grip, yanking it to his side.
Before Jack could react, a heavy boot slammed into his cheek, the impact reverberating through his skull. A sharp cry of pain escaped his lips, the agony more intense than anything he'd ever felt. He knew then they weren’t just going to beat him; they were going to ruin his face beyond recognition.
A second guard, towering and muscular, seized him by the collar. Despite his height, this guard made him feel small and powerless. With effortless strength, the guard hurled him to the ground as if he were no more than a sack of flour. Jack's head struck the floor, and his vision exploded into white-hot stars. He barely registered the taste of blood flooding his mouth as he coughed, each breath sending sharp pains through his chest.
The next blow came swiftly, a bat swinging with vicious accuracy. It connected with the bone just beneath Jack's knee, the sickening crunch signalling its fracture. Jack screamed, the sound ragged and desperate as pain shot through his leg like a lightning bolt. The bat had shattered more than just bone; it had shattered any hope he had of walking away from this unscathed.
Laughter echoed around him, cold and merciless, as Jack writhed in unbearable agony. Another boot connected with his jaw, snapping his head back with a force that sent shockwaves down his spine. He tried to protect his head, but his arms were wrenched away, leaving him defenseless. The guards showed no mercy, their boots slamming into his ribs, his stomach, and his legs with relentless fury. Each kick brought fresh waves of torment, until Jack felt something crack deep inside his chest—a rib, or perhaps more than one.
His vision began to blur, the world around him fading as the darkness crept in. Jack clung to consciousness, but the promise of oblivion was too tempting, too sweet in the face of such unrelenting pain. His body was battered, broken, and he knew that when he woke—if he woke—he might never be the same again. As the last boot connected with his side, his world finally went black, the torment giving way to the numbing embrace of unconsciousness.