So I wanted some context on what had happened to Zach in the first place and also to show some of the differences pre- and post- captivity and lo, another POV character was born.
Warnings: violence, fight scene, knife mention, taser, injuries, kidnapping on video, torture mention, scared whumpee, aftermath of captivity, stress/trauma responses.
Part 1, part 2
Sasha had watched the security footage many times. Possibly hundreds. At first looking for clues for a way to find Zach after he’d been grabbed, then later out of guilt, and then later still out of a desire to see him again at his best—whole and fighting and fierce.
They had all thought it would be the last time they’d see him alive. They’d been proven wrong when two videos and a couple of dozen photos had been sent on a memory card to their headquarters. Footage of Zach bleeding and blurry and suffering. He’d been tortured, clearly. The extent of the damage was impossible to tell but it didn’t look good.
It was his eyes in those pictures which had haunted Sasha—they’d been lifeless, empty of joy. He looked like a man who believed there was nothing good left to experience. And then they’d found his body—or, so they’d thought.
That was two years and three months ago, and now he’d been found, alive but littered with injuries, and he was on his way here after three days in hospital.
Sasha couldn’t say why, in her nervous anticipation, she opened the window and played the video again. It seemed to happen without her deciding to do it, some kind of ingrained response to her worry. There was no sound but in Sasha’s mind it played with background static. The black and white footage was grainy, but she’d seen it so many times by now that it looked crystal clear to her eyes.
She’d been Zach’s field partner that day and she’d let him down. They’d come up against a wall of tear gas and retreated; it was an ambush no doubt about it. The first sight of Zach on the footage was him stumbling backwards, arm flung out. The inside of the building wasn’t caught on the CCTV, she knew they’d left out of a side door but that was where her memory ended. Someone had been waiting, taken her down with one swift blow to the back of the neck. The last glimpses of Zach on that day were here, while she had lain unconscious just out of view, mere feet away.
Zach was clearly fighting someone, his back was to the camera but he jolted, parried and blocked with an assailant just off-screen. His weapon had been knocked aside and he fought empty handed for a drawn out series of blows and strikes back. There was one long, agonising minute where he stumbled out of view of the cameras before he reappeared with a small knife in hand. Probably the one from his own boot but they had never been able to verify that.
He slashed and jumped back, his instincts and training were strong and there was no reason to believe he couldn’t hold his own in a one-on-one fight. He circled his opponent and faded into the shadows to the right of the screen, and came back with speed, arm raised, ready to strike. The person he fought was in range of the camera by that point—masked and unidentifiable—and they grappled for a long moment, until Zach was thrust aside. He found his feet easily enough, caught his balance, and blocked two hits to the face but took one to the stomach. He doubled over, the footage wobbled, static blurred the screen for a second.
As Zach straightened the last time Sasha held her breath. She leaned in closer to the monitor knowing what was coming.
Zach stumbled forward with a sudden jerk, his arm hanging limply and his knife dropped out of shot while he doubled over. He took a harsh blow to the face and swung around, going down hard on one knee. Even after all this time Sasha still winced. She could see the bolt of the crossbow glinting where it protruded from his shoulder even in the lowlight film.
She had a burst of pride, like always, as Zach clawed back to his feet. He blocked another punch that should have sent him sprawling, kicked away the knife that he’d dropped so it couldn’t be used against him, and faced his attacker once more. Her stomach flipped as the end of the altercation drew near. There was a short grapple and the bolt in his shoulder was grabbed and yanked on, and Zach threw his head back in what could only have been a howl of pain.
Once Zach was shoved to the ground the second attacker appeared, and he tried to get up only to be tased into a twitching, helpless tangle of limbs on the ground. Sasha watched with a sense of righteous anger burn through her, it was worse now that she knew this brutal fight didn’t only lead to weeks of pain and a messy death for Zach… but years of lost time, where he could have been subjected to almost anything. Knowing now that it only got worse for him made her sick.
He snarled at them, bared his teeth, tried valiantly to get back on his feet and keep fighting and only went still when they tased him a second time—paralysed and possibly unconscious. She watched them rip off his helmet, his arm bracers, his Kevlar vest, all of it discarded onto the tarmac beside where he lay. The two attackers were brutal, landing kicks and slapping Zach around the face.
Sasha sped up the footage, watching at two times the speed as one of the attackers made a brief call, a van pulled up—license plate obscured—and they dragged Zach into it. There was only a dark grey puddle that Sasha knew to be blood left behind. She stopped, closed the program, and rubbed at her eyes.
She knew what came next, she didn’t need to see it. Her team arriving too late, the ambulance that was called to assist her, the weeks of sleepless nights and fruitless searching. She pulled her hair out of her braid to plait it again with practiced ease, a way to calm her nerves. She’d lived with her shortcomings that day, made as much peace as she could knowing she wasn’t the only one to blame. The entire mission had been compromised and she only played one small part in the turn of events. It still kept her up at night though, it still ate away at her confidence at her ability to do her job—though she would never tell anyone that.
And today… she was going to look the man she let down in the eye. The man who had been through hell and back, the man she should have helped to protect, should have been fighting side by side with. How would he react? Did he hold resentment? Would he rather not see her?
For that matter, it was possible he would rather not see any of them, but the team was the only safe place he thought he could gp?
The message came that the vehicle was only a few minutes away and Sasha stood and smoothed down her shirt, grabbed her jacket and put it on, if only for something to hold on to if she needed to ground herself. Best to face it head on and get it over with. Better to know. She’d had enough years of thinking the worst.
She wasn’t the only one who decided to be part of a welcoming committee and they met the convoy of vehicles in the underground car park below their current office headquarters, and came out of the lift just as the cars pulled to a stop. The windows were blacked out and she waited anxiously next to Lacey and Jordan as their old leader, Emit Bryson climbed out of the first car with his assistant in tow. Bryson looked tired, his frown lines looked deeper than usual on his dark skin and shadows blurred under his eyes, but he had a bounce in his step that Sasha didn’t think she’d seen since Zach was taken. He caught her eye and nodded, smoothing down his wool coat with one hand while the other loosened his tie and top button. His walking stick was, for the moment, tucked under his arm and out of use.
Archer jumped out of the second car and helped to guide a tense man out after him; a man who shrank in on himself trying to look smaller than he was, and it took Sasha a second to put the pieces together. That was Zach. He had a blindfold over his eyes and was utterly still when Archer let go of his hands. The blindfold was a necessity to protect their new location until Zach could be confirmed to be uncompromised and fit to know and protect their secrets once again. It still seemed cruel when she thought about how untethered Zach must feel.
Archer leaned in and spoke to Zach, and Zach slowly reached up and pulled away the sleep mask that had doubled as a blindfold. His eyes were brightly alert, flicking quickly from place to place, and Sasha could only guess at how many times he’d had to assess danger while completely helpless before it.
Besides the rise and fall of his breath that rocked him back and forth he was frozen in place when he wasn’t being guided to move. His movements were jerky and so unlike the vibrant man she knew before. Zach was nearly always doing something with his body- tapping his foot or fingers and he was fluid and smooth, almost dancer-like when he moved, his posture relaxed and easy, unless he was alert out in the field. Which she guessed, in a way, made sense. He’d gone out on a mission it had never ended, he’d never got to come home. This was what years of being unable to relax, unable to rest, probably did to a person.
It turned her stomach, and made the whole thing seem suddenly more real—the stuff of nightmares come to life.
Bryson strode forward and gestured for Zach and Archer to follow. Sasha turned and locked eyes with Jordan and Lacey in turn, seeing her own shock mirrored on their faces. As much as they’d tried to prepare themselves, seeing Zach like this was never going to be easy.
Lacey recovered first and stepped forward first, raising her hand and offering a wide smile. “Hey, we all came down to see you, I hope that’s alright. Way to be overwhelming right?” she laughed breezily, breaking the tension as she shoved her hands in her pockets with a shrug. “We just wanted to welcome you home, well, back.”
Zach latched on to each person who spoke, his attention zeroed in on whoever was moving and addressing him like his life depended on it.
“You all know each other well enough, I think Zach will be able to lead the way in how comfortable he feels able to talk to you all, and how soon,” Bryson said.
Zach’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips with obvious nervous energy. Sasha wanted to reach out and pat him on the shoulder, say something, anything. Offer comfort. What comfort could she have to offer?
“I can… yes? Hi. Hi, all of you.” He glanced around the sea of faces but Sasha was fairly sure he didn’t actually see any of them, not really. Zach’s voice shook but he smiled briefly, a flash of upturned lips, and then looked to Archer for something Sasha couldn’t name.
“It’s been a long day, long… lots of days. Let’s get upstairs first and then we can all say our hellos and I miss yous and all of that. No reason to rush, we have time,” Archer said, smoothing over the awkwardness. He muscled forward with his large frame to call the lift down and Zach stuck close on his heels, close enough to bump with his elbow though Sasha noted that he carefully kept his body from touching. “I could really go for some coffee, dunno about anyone else.”
“I think some refreshments and a good sit down will be in order, yes,” Bryson replied. “Did anyone buy more of my favourite blend yet?”
Jordan, with his smooth voice and easy grace, answered. “Of course, what do you take us for? We wouldn’t let you go without it two visits in a row. I think someone made a run out for Zach’s favourite tea too, so we have the basics covered.” He winked at Zach and Zach blushed.
The lift pinged open behind her and Sasha moved aside to let everyone through, Zach’s gaze landed on her and he winced, she watched him swallow and carefully fold his arms across his chest. Her heart withered, desperately sad, furious all over again… until he raised three fingers from his elbow and tilted half his mouth up into a smile.
She smiled back broadly, nodded at him, and he melted into Archer’s side looking positively exhausted.
Sasha had no idea what any of it meant, or where his head was at, but the fact that he hadn’t yelled or dismissed her or cried… that was better than her worst fears. Maybe it would be alright? There were too many of them to fit in the lift, the passengers from the cars took up all the space and Sasha, Jordan, and Lacey waved them off. They could have waited for a second lift, but none of them wanted to stand around awkwardly waiting. There was too much nervous energy between them, so they took to the stairs instead. It was four flights up to their main office, and if she thought the time for useless wondering about what had happened to her friend was over—well, she had ninety-six stairs and several painful days ahead to ponder it more.
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