#oc alyaa

[whump-it]

@pepperonyscience I feel like this is a quote that Callum would have on his office wall. And would also have printed out and framed and hung for Rory and Alyaa in their office rooms too. He may not have told them that he was going to do that.

[whump-it]

Hey Rory. Don't you blame Alyaa for Callum being so hurt? for you being so hurt? I mean, if it wasn't for her, neither of you guys would have been kidnapped. Callum would have had his surgery and you would have been able to take him home.

"I blame Ethan. It's all on him. Sick. He's sick. Doing that to Cal. Making him wait. He was going to the hospital the next day! The next day! And he's in here," Rory prods at his temple a few times. "He's up in here and I can't get rid of him. Sick."

He runs a shaking hand through his hair. Pulls at it a little.

"Guns are loud. I didn't know how loud they could be," he says quietly. "I don't even think Cal barely moved when it went off. His brain was... he was suffering. I don't even know if he heard it. I don't know how not. So loud."

Rory looks up at you.

"He taped Alyaa's mouth up until it went sore. Her lips. The skin around them? Cracked and red. I hate him. Ethan. I hate him. What if Cal's surgery being delayed has some long term impact? Like, in a few years and something goes wrong? I can't lose him."

He puts his head in his hands.

"I uh, I blame Ethan," he murmurs. "But I wish she'd never met him. Same as I wish Cal had never met Hayden. Maybe none of them should've ever met me either. Probably everyone would've been safe if they hadn't met me."

[whump-it]

It's been a while! Have some Collection Programme, Doctor Callum, found family fluff and sweetness!

Callum knocked on the door and waited for David answer. And he schooled his face in to his best concerned doctor expression as opposed to the smile that he was currently hiding. Just about. Almost.

The phone call that had brought him here had been funny but not to David. Alyaa in the background sounding exactly like someone who had not long come around from a general anaesthetic should sound. And Callum knew that all of this was normal. All of this had been explained to David and Alyaa, but listening to a loved one sounding so very much not themselves was very often enough for people to forget the preoperative information.

"This can't be normal," David said, as soon as he opened the door, ushering Callum in quickly.

"No kids?" Callum asked, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on the peg with the homemade sign about it; Uncle Callum. Childlike writing, smudges, fingerprints. Messy with love.

"They're managing to be quiet. I've bribed them with cake. Come on," David strode on through the house, Callum hurrying to catch up behind him. At the door to the bedroom, David knocked before going in. It made Callum smile more, that small act of care.

"Is you..." Alyaa muttered, trailing off at the end. "Oh! And you!"

"And me," Callum stepped close to the bed and took her hand in his. "Cold hands huh?"

"I wanted the blanket," Alyaa told him, looking down at the spotted throw that was tucked around her. "But I want the stripey one!" Her voice broke into a small, sad wail.

"See!?" David said, hushed but hurried. Nervous. "We don't own a stripey blanket!"

"Ok. Don't worry," Callum sat down next to Alyaa, the bed dipping which tipped her a little to the side.

"Woo it's like a fairground ride!" She laughed, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. "But without a stripey blanket." The sadness in her voice was back.

"I know," Callum said, squeezing her hand. Just for now though I'm going to need you to take a little time to just sit quietly. No talking. Just quiet. OK? Can you do that?"

Alyaa looked up at him, wide eyed with post-anaesthetic confusion and honesty, and nodded.

"Well done," Callum said, then turned to David.

"She's not well!" David said, wringing his hands. "You see? She's not well. And she's so upset!"

"I know how it looks but I promise you that she's OK. All of this? Is just the drugs talking. And you know my promises are good. Yes?"

David looked at Callum for a long moment, then to Alyaa and back again. Slowly he nodded.

"I know," he whispered.

"It's just words," Callum said. "Words that sound like feelings. But I promise you that it's all fake."

"But she is feeling it! Look at her!"

"And," Callum said, quickly, just overlapping at the end of David's talking. Just getting in before David could sink further into a panic. "She was awake when they removed the breathing tube. But she won't remember that either. She won't any of this. It's just words David. Really. Just words."

David sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. Paced a little. Then stopped.

"Just words. You promise."

"I promise," Callum patted Alyaa's hand, kissed her temple, and stood up. "Keep her warm and give her plenty of water. In the meantime I'll take the kids out and run some of their energy off. OK? I'll only go to the park down the way so if you need me I won't be far. She'll be much better even in the time it takes me to tire your little lot out."

"I love you," Alyaa said, looking up at Callum, tears starting again.

"And I love you too," he said, pulling David in to take his spot, passing her hand to his. "I'll see you both in an hour or two. Wouldn't hurt if you both had a little sleep."

Callum left the room, gathering up shoes and coats and snacks and children as he went. Left the house.

Headed to the park. The one without many trees.

"Kids! Keep an eye out as we go past the shops. Let me know if you see a stripey blanket."

@haro-whumps @grizzlie70   @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @bloodybrambles @burtlederp @my-whumpy-little-heart @pepperonyscience @faewhump @crowned-avery @whump-tr0pes @spookyboywhump @finder-of-rings @liliability @whumpfigure @girlwithacoolcat @tears-and-lilies @inpainandsuffering @whumppsychology @nonsensical-whump @ashintheairlikesnow @justabitofwhump

[whump-it]

Rory Linden: Panic

TW: Please be aware that this is a written piece of a panic attack.  It may not be everyone's version of what one feels like, but it’s pretty close to how mine feel so I’m drawing on that experience.

Finally I am back with a piece from The Collection Programme!  It’s been too long.  Sorry Rory!

Tagging @haro-whumps @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @iaminamoodymoodtoday @burtlederp @pepperonyscience @faewhump @crowned-avery @whump-tr0pes @spookyboywhump @finder-of-rings @liliability @whumpfigure @girlwithacoolcat @tears-and-lilies @inpainandsuffering @whumppsychology @nonsensical-whump @ashintheairlikesnow @justabitofwhump

The mirrored cabinet above the sink always had a small sticking point. Every time it was closed, the hinges reached a point of minor resistance and then they gave. Then the door shut. It happened every single time.

The mirrored cabinet above the sink had a very tiny door knob. It was about the dimensions of a bullet if someone had taken the pointed end off it to leave only centimetre or so of it still standing.

The mirrored cabinet above the sink used to have a small and almost flat rubber disc on the inside of the door as a buffer. Something to stop it slamming quite so hard when it was shut  Something to keep it from shattering under pressure.  But that had fallen off some time ago.  A victim of being in the humidity of a bathroom.

Rory opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink every morning to get his deodorant out. Then he put it back and shut the door.  Every day.  Except that this time when he sprayed his deodorant, he got some on his hand.  Just quickly, he ran the water and rinsed it off before putting the can back in the cabinet and shutting it. His fingers slipped on the tiny door knob and it got away from him. For the briefest moment, the hinges caught and held before the motion carried itself through and the door swung shut. It banged once, loudly, the blow not cushioned by the tiny disc of rubber that wasn't there any more.

He caught his reflection and all he could see was red.  All he could hear was the bang ringing in his ears.  All he could do was give in to gravity when his knees buckled from under him and he dropped to the floor.  The only noise he could hear was the shouting, the shooting, the shouting.  His shouting.  What was he shouting?  Callum.  He needed to untie Callum.  He needed to keep Alyaa calm.  A story.  He had to invent a story to keep them all safe because without that they were done for.  Alyaa must be calm.  Please be calm.  Callum's brain.  It's hurting him it's hurting him it's hurting him and what's this new noise?

He had his hands clamped tightly over his ears so how a yelling, a rhythmic breath in and yell out over and over was so loud he could not work out.  How was it so loud?  How was it so close?  It was wordless and horrifying, like hell was breaking loose and he was too frightened to run from it.  And when hands found him and held him he pushed back, because if hell was so close that he could hear it, then he was close enough to be pulled in to it.

And through the demons and their screaming, somewhere through their raised cacophony, something as close to angelic as he had ever heard before said his name.  And kept on saying it.  Over and over, gentle and soft.  And the other side of his body which felt too tensed to ever untwist itself, beautiful hands beat the demons away from him and held him so that they wouldn’t be able to get to him.  How very brave.  How so brave, that there where two forces were there to save him when it was so dangerous to be anywhere close.  

One force with touch and one force with words stayed while he shook and shivered and cried until it all ebbed out and away from him.  Until just tiny, featherlight tremors quietly shook him on each exhale.  Slowly, he allowed his arms to be drawn away from his chest so that his hands could be held, the feeling of being opened up and exposed not quite so terrifying now that the demons seemed to be in retreat.  

Neither force seemed to mind his sweaty palms.  Neither seemed to see any shame in the tears that had streaked down his cheeks.  Neither had covered their ears when he had covered his.

They sat with him, and held him, and pressed their bodies to his so that he could use up their heat while he shivered.  And as he sat, and as the screaming gave way to silence, their faces finally came into view.

Callum.  With his brain that was never slow and never stupid.  That had stopped hurting him.  Callum with his little patch of hair that they had shaved for his surgery but that was just starting to grow back, softening the scarred line with blonde fuzz.  Alyaa.  With her strength that could ward away hell itself, no matter what she said to the contrary.  

Rory looked at them.  At Callum, and then at Alyaa.  

“I want my dad.”

[whump-it]

The Bad Thing:  Rory’s Tape Gag

Ok.  Here it is!  The Bad Thing is happeneing and Rory is starting to get whumped!  CW here for victim blaming, self blame, self hatred, whumper playing whumpees off against one another, threatening to whump a woman and a tape gag of course!

Tag time!

@haro-whumps @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @iaminamoodymoodtoday @burtlederp @my-whumpy-little-heart @moose-teeth @pepperonyscience @faewhump @crowned-avery @whump-tr0pes @spookyboywhump @finder-of-rings @liliability @whumpfigure @girlwithacoolcat @tears-and-lilies @inpainandsuffering @whumppsychology

He was laughing.  It was muted by a hand to his mouth.  Knuckles against his teeth.  But he was laughing.  She didn't dare look at him.  Didn't dare make eye contact for fear that somewhere through the terror and dread, that somewhere in the horror of her emotions, the hated of him might be showing on her face.  Taking that kind of liberty would only lead to trouble. 

Beyond the basement door and blissfully, briefly unaware of the ridicule and hurt coming their way, Rory and Callum carried on talking.

***

"I miss Haz,"  Callum muttered, a slight slur to the words.  A slip at the edge.  He had shuffled over to Rory with an ease born of history despite the fact that his hands were bound behind his back.

"I know," Rory whispered.  He nearly always whispered.  Callum spoke out loud with an uninhibited volume that made Rory cringe away and want to yell at him to shut up.   To be quiet.  To tell him that their situation was precarious enough without him talking at a volume that might attract unwanted attention. 

"The last time I was in a basement I had him," Callum said, matter-of-fact.

"Alyaa had to take him back to her apartment," Rory winced as Callum tipped his head to rest his right temple against Rory's shoulder, which was still bruised from his most recent beating.  "We had to let him go so we wouldn't get hurt."

"Wouldn't get hurt," Callum muttered back, breathing in then exhaling a shaking sigh.  "I miss him.  He's soft."

"I wish I could bring him to you," Rory murmured the words with a tip of his head.  A tilt of his lips into Callum's hair right above where his brain was fighting against him.  "Cal.  We'll get back to him.  You're going to have him again I promise you.  I promise.  I know how important he is to you but if you can just hold on just... just..."  Rory breathed in shaky and unsteady and closed his eyes against the tears that always seemed to be there.  Always just on the edge of falling.  He pushed his face into Callum's curls and let them tickle at his skin.  Let them sweep across his forehead and cheek where he would feel their phantom touch long after they'd moved apart.  His bound hands unable to move the sensation. 

Next to him, Callum shifted.  He moved and tipped his head and carried on until their foreheads met. 

"Cal," Rory said, louder than he meant to, the volume unmodulated by the constriction of his throat against the fall of his tears.  "Cal I love you.  Haz is waiting for you.  He's safe.  He's safe and he's waiting for you." 

***

Ethan snorted and bent forward then breathed in and composed himself.

"Oh that's just precious," he said, his words sneered out over a laugh.  "They're going on about that stupid teddy aren't they?"  He looked at Alyaa, her head bowed and eyes fixed on the ground.  Her hair falling down past her cheek.  "I asked you a question."  The laughter had gone.  Dried up.  It hadn't been funny to begin with.

"Yes," she said quietly.  So very quietly.  "Haz is... Callum's... he's not well."

Ethan looked at her.  Looked and looked until she began to bend under the weight of his stare.  She jumped and flinched when he raised his hand, spinning a roll of heavy duty tape around his index finger.

"Hmm,"  Ethan spun the roll around and around.

"He's not..." Alyaa stopped speaking as soon as she had started.  Her throat cut off her words without her permission, the muscles tightening around the threat of tears.  Callum was ill and Rory was scared and Haz was too far away.

And Ethan had a roll of tape.

She flinched again at the sound of the bolt on the door slamming back, looking up just in time to catch the swift movement as Ethan reached out and gripped at her forearm hard enough to bruise. 

"Time to pay your favourite pair a little visit," Ethan said, pulling her arm to drag her closer.  "Well come on then.  Anyone would think you didn't want to see them."  Ethan smiled at her, cruel and cold, the twist of his lips utterly unmatched by the hatred in his eyes.

Ethan pulled her through the door and into the basement, and she was utterly unable to stop herself from looking straight at Rory.  Straight at Callum.  Glancing back and for between their faces until the weight of her guilt for not keeping them safe forced her shoulders to hunch.  Her gaze to lower. 

Callum looked shattered.  Completely and entirely worn out.  Yet despite that, when he saw her, when he saw Ethan, he had mouthed the word "master".  He had bowed his head.  Across his face, she saw the flash of emotions and memories that had taken only seconds but that she had enough knowledge of to recognise.  He wanted atonement.  He wanted perfection.  He was too ill to know if he was ashamed or not anymore.

Rory looked furious.  And scared.  And he looked at her and Ethan equally before tipping his head back down to touch temples with Callum.  The utter horror that he was protecting Callum from her felt like a shard of ice settling through her core.

"Sounds like someone's missing his little teddy bear," Ethan said, smiling that smile again.  The one that never reached his eyes.  Alyaa could hear Rory's breathing pick up, his teeth clenched as he breathed heavily and just a little too fast through his nose.  She could see his jaw working and she had no idea whether she wanted him to speak or to stay silent.  Each option had the potential to harm all of them.  It was just a question of which of them would pay the highest price.

"Wow," Ethan said, cold sarcasm threading through the word.   "You look really cross.   Really cross."   He drew the words out, stretching them out on a rack of scorn and humiliation, deliberately designed to make Rory more and more furious.

Alyaa could see Rory's breathing speed up in the rise and fall of his chest.  In the flare of his nostrils.  Her mind overlapped on itself on two words.  Speak.  Hush. 

"Damn right I'm cross," Rory said.  Alyaa closed her eyes.  “Where do you get off thinking that any of what you’re doing here is ok?  What the fuck is the matter with you, you sick freak!?  Callum is not well.  He should’ve been in the hospital days ago.  He needs an operation.  You’re hurting him.  You’re going to hurt him.”

"I'm not going to hurt him," Ethan said with a cruel laugh.  "Have you seen him!?  I mean come on.  Look at him.  Why would I hurt that?"  Rory glared back.  "Oh I'm sorry.  Did I speak in a foreign language?  Are you too stupid to understand?"  Alyaa saw Callum's flinch at the word stupid.  He mouthed it silently, eyes downcast.

"I said "look at him"."

"I'm looking," Rory said slowly and quietly.  "At you.  And I don't like what I'm seeing."

Alyaa dared to open her eyes but kept her head down.  Her shoulders up.  She jumped when Ethan ripped a long strip of tape off the roll, biting it off with his teeth and holding it up in front of her face while he pointed at Rory with his free hand.

“That one needs to stop talking don’t you think?”

She held her breath.  The room seemed to buzz with the oppressive silence that followed the statement and the tearing of tape.  She couldn’t move.  She couldn’t make herself touch the tape.  She braved a quick look at Rory beyond the tape dangling in front of her and he looked terrified.  He didn’t have his hands to use, tied up behind him.  He was trapped in a basement and he was about to have his voice taken from him.  He looked like he was fighting to stay upright, fighting against his body that wanted to curl up, and fighting against crying. 

“Well my sweet little nightbird,” Ethan said.  “You have a choice.  Either you take this piece of tape and shut him up,” he jerked the piece of tape a couple of times in front of her. “Or I can shut you up.  You choose.”

“Me,” Alyaa said, quickly.  The need to protect pushed forward in her mind.  Rory and Callum should bein the hospital right now while Callum recovered from surgery.  They shouldn’t be tied up in a basement and she was all too aware that if they had stayed away from her then this would never have happened.  She should have kept them at arms length instead of pulling them down to be damaged along with her. “You...if you want...want...to shut someone up then shut me...shut me up Ethan.”

On the floor in front of her, a sob broke free from Rory, quickly followed by Callum looking over at him, horrified and shushing him in the presence of the person that he believed to be his Master.

“Don’t even, for one moment, think that you can tell me what I want,” Ethan spat the words at her, and she cowered under their weight, shaking.  Trembling.  “Tape his mouth and then, as you’re so keen, I’ll shut you up too.”

“No!  Please Ethan, please.”  Alyaa forced the words out even as they shook with the forced of her body’s shaking.  “Please just me...just...just me.  They didn’t...they...they’ll be quiet,  I promise.  Please Ethan.  Please!”

“Hmm...you see, as much as I enjoy listening to all of this?  It’s boring me now.  Taope his mouth shut.  Don’t argue with me.  Do.  It.”

Alyaa gasped out on the air that she didn’t realise she had been holding.  As she reached with a shaking hand to take the piece of tape she heard Rory starting to plead with her.  Small, whispered out, begging little no’s and pleases.  He was shaking his head.  Saying her name, interspersing it with his begging.  It felt like a physical attack upon her.  It hurt to hear it.  It made her want hinm to stop and she had the means to do that in her hand.  It made Ethan into the winner.  It made her into the villain. 

She wanted to be sick.

“I’m sorry Rory,” she whispered as she knelt in front of him.  “S...sorry.  I’ll be gentle  I’m so sorry.”  As she took the tape in both hands and raised it, she almost choked on the feeling in her gut when Rory mouthed “please don’t” at her, the words silent, the terror stripping him of his voice as much as the tape did when she pressed it to his lips.

His tears fell as she stood back up. 

[whump-it]

Dear diary for Rory after Hayden selected Callum

Dear diary

It happened. He's gone. I mean sure, I knew he would because he's Callum and he's awesome and anyone would be lucky to have him in their lives.

It's just. It's just that I can't help but wish that it was my life that he was in. I would never Select him. He's not something I could...I don't know. Not something I could force into my life.

But now he's gone? It's like when you've been out in the sun so everything looks off-colour when you come back in. It doesn't look right anymore. And it's not getting any better.

I drank too much and bothered my neighbour and i think I cried at her. She'll never be my friend now.

I'm a dick.

I miss Callum.

[whump-it]

(Bad thing Callum), Alyaas been very very bad. Very bad. Ethan wants you to pick a colour for her. She has a lot of shame to get rid of. More than you ever had.

Umm... colours. Umm. For Master? I umm. It's. Yes. Shame is not nice. Not nice. *he rubs at his head* I could help? Help her not be ashamed for a bit?

*he nods, knowing, certain that she will feel like he does when he's allowed to atone*

Black please.

[whump-it]

For when Alyaa has his accident. She was on the phone with Rory when she was hit. He would have heard everything until the phone gave up. What would be the first thing he did?

Complete and utter terror. He would yell her name frantically over and over down the phone. He'd be screaming at her to answer him, please, just answer, anything, just say something.

When the phone cuts out, he'd be trying to work it all out, out loud. Talking to himself as he dashes about getting shoes and wallet and jacket, dry mouthed and sweating, swearing as he goes. Working out where she must be, trying to phone Callum then realising that he's in the a&e department and hanging up after about two and half rings because he knows that Cal won't be able to pick up.

He'll fumble his keys to lock up. He'll fumble his keys to get in the car. He'll fumble his seatbelt and his fingers as he puts speaker phone on to call emergency services and explain that he's not totally sure where she is but he's got a fair idea and he's on his way and will they hurry please, please hurry and meet him there.