(Who Gives a Damn) If We Beat the War

[Red Echo]

Korse/Gerard, implied Frank/Gerard. Warnings for non-con, sexual torture (forced arousal by drugging), violence, generally disturbing material. And obviously, you should disregard the SING video when reading this.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.
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Frank's the first one they bring into the interrogation room. He knows because Gerard looks exactly the same as when he saw him last, before they overpowered him and dragged him away. He's naked, stripped of his clothes and beloved jacket, but his skin is pale and unmarked, and his eyes are burning with defiance, fire. Life. Frank can't help feeling relieved, despite the sick twisting in his stomach as the realization of what that means sinks in.

He doesn't try to fight the Dracs holding him. They're armed, he's outnumbered, and he doesn't want to risk it when they already have Gerard down like this. He sits on the seat they push him into, and doesn't struggle when they bind him there with ropes, wrapping them tight around his chest and legs. The chair is bolted to the floor, and so is the table on the other side of the room, both made of sturdy steel. They're no easy ride, Frank will give them that-- these motherfuckers know what they're doing.

Gerard's on his knees on the concrete floor a few feet in front of him, arms twisted and tied tightly behind his back, and Frank doesn't look anywhere else but him as the Dracs finish tying him up. Both of them know exactly what's coming - Frank can see it in Gerard's face, and they've talked about this before, what they'd do if they ever got caught - but looking at him now, naked and helpless on the floor, Frank just doesn't know.

He clenches his eyes shut, ducks his head and takes deep breaths, trying to reign in all the emotions that will make him weak. He hears the Dracs' footsteps departing, the heavy iron bolt of the door opening, clanging loud and metallic as it shuts after them.

The instant they're alone, Gerard's saying fiercely, "Don't fucking give them anything, Frank."

Frank looks at him, at Gerard's stupidly pretty face hard with anger and insolence, and wonders how he can be so fucking strong, when Frank feels like he's about to break the fuck apart just looking at him. He snaps his face away to stare at the bare, white walls instead, biting hard into his bottom lip. He can't fucking do this.

"Frank," Gerard breathes. "Come on, look at me."

Frank shakes his head at the wall. He can't watch this. He can't just sit here while they--

"Frank, please."

But Frank can't, he just can't. He hears Gerard move, knee-walking himself forwards, but even when he's right there at Frank's feet Frank can't look at him - knows it will be the end of him, right then and there, before Korse even gets here.

Because that's who it will be. Korse. Frank knows it without a doubt. He won't send one of his lackeys, not for them. He'll want to be here in person, so he can soak up every inch of their defeat.

[Red Echo]

"Frankie," Gerard whispers, voice breaking for the first time ever, and Frank has to force himself to look down. It yanks his breath out of him in a half-choked sob, because now he can see the fear in Gerard's eyes, the anguish beneath his forced bravery and the way he's desperately trying to push it back, keep it hidden for Frank's sake.

"Please don't make me do this, Gerard," Frank begs, but Gerard's going "Shhhh," and shuffling forwards more, until he's right between Frank's open knees, bare chest pressed against the edge of the seat. Frank pulls desperately against his restraints, wanting with every fucking fibre in his body to touch Gerard, to lean down and kiss him while he's still whole, still his G.

"Shhhh," Gerard soothes again. "You can do this." Frank starts shaking his head, but Gerard says firmly, "You can. You're fuckin' Fun Ghoul, remember? You don't lay down and let them win, you go out fucking fighting, d'ya hear me?"

"G, I can't-- I can't just let them, let him--" Frank's eyes are wet. He blinks furiously. "You can't ask me to do that."

"But you can't stop him, Frank," Gerard says, gently. "He's going to do it whether we talk or not, you know that." He tilts his head, shoots Frank a raised eyebrow. "So we might as well give him fucking hell while we still can, right?" He smiles at Frank then, sad and savage, and Frank's heart contracts like a clenching fist.

He gets out, "I love you. I love you so fucking much, G."

Gerard's smile gets wider, and for a second it's as bright and beautiful as the day they met. He leans in, rests his forehead against Frank's stomach - the closest they can get - and murmurs, "Then let's do this."

[Red Echo]

The door clangs. Frank looks up but Gerard doesn't, and Frank feels his breath quicken against his belly, hot through his shirt. It is Korse, in his usual grey attire, the same he was wearing when they fought him earlier. He closes the door after himself, banging his fist against it so the Dracs will lock it from the outside. He doesn't take his eyes off of them as he crosses the floor, amused triumph all over his face. He stops a few feet in front of them, where Gerard had been kneeling before.

"Well, well," he says. He folds his arms over his chest and rests his chin casually on one hand, like he's regarding them, taking them in. "I have to say, boys, you put up one hell of a fight. I won't deny I'm impressed. I like that, you know? The challenge. It only makes victory that much more satisfying."

He smirks, and the hatred Frank feels for him is like nothing he's ever experienced before, like he could rip out his throat with his bare hands and enjoy every second of it. Just like that, Frank's resolve strengthens, rage and defiance flooding him like a dam breaking, Gerard's words a war-cry in his head. Don't fucking give them anything, Frank. You go out fucking fighting, d'ya hear me?

Korse comes closer, still smirking, but Frank raises his chin and looks him dead in the eye, face burning, eyes hard. Korse raises an eyebrow, mouth twisting mockingly, but Frank doesn't care, he stares him down even as he closes the distance until he's stood right behind Gerard, looming over them.

Gerard is deadly still, tense from his shoulders right down to his toes, and Frank can feel him taking deep, shaky breaths. Frank wants to talk to him, to try and reassure him - even though that's impossible - but Korse is leaning down, until there's inches between his face and Frank's.

"Your bravery isn't admirable, Ghoul," he says, low and deadly. "It's easy for you to be brave, sitting there. You're not the one I'm about to destroy in every way imaginable."

Gerard's shoulders tremble and Frank spits, "I could be. You could take me instead."

Korse laughs, cold and empty. "Oh, no, I don't think so. I mean, I could, but..." his eyes flick down to the top of Gerard's head, then back to Frank's. He licks his lips, leering. "I'm sure you know why I won't."

A wave of nausea and dread hits Frank, so strong he can't breathe. No. No, not that. Fuck, please.

It must show in his face because a sinister smile spreads over Korse's lips. He straightens up, turning away to the table on the other side of the room, unbuckling his gun holster and divesting himself of his jacket and ID, rolling up his sleeves. Frank looks down at Gerard, his still-bowed head sweaty against Frank's shirt, breathing fast and noisy through his nose.

"G," Frank breathes, trying to keep his voice low so Korse won't hear, trying to stop it from pitching up into hysteria. "G, just-- do you remember that time we got lost between 3 and 4, when we had to stay up all night on lookout in the Trans, yeah? Just think about that." He tries not to look at the objects Korse is pulling from his pockets and placing on the table; a syringe, a needle, a medical-looking bottle branded with the BL/ind logo.

Gerard exhales a shuddering breath through his mouth and nods against Frank's stomach. Frank wiggles against the top rope binding his shoulders, manages to slacken it enough for him to rest his cheek against the top of Gerard's head - breathing in the scent of his hair - smoke and dust and the vaguest hint of fragrance.

Frank knows, in his heart, that this is the last time they'll ever be this close. While they're still alive, anyway. In every sense of the word. He closes his eyes and savors it.