|Rack and Ruin
Author: Faye Dartmouth PM
The last thing Michael said to Billy was: we'll come back to get you. It was a promise he'd intended to keep, never doubted on keeping. But in the end it was a promise he'd broken.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Angst - Billy C. & Michael D. - Chapters: 14 - Words: 124,730 - Reviews: 51 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 09-02-12 - Published: 07-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8348811
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Rack and Ruin
Authors: faye_dartmouth and lena7142
Disclaimer: We claim no ownership of the characters or concept of the show CHAOS.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Gen.
Rating: R for violence, strong themes, torture.
Warnings: This fic is pretty grim. Dark, even. And maybe a little gruesome in places. You may, er, want a tissue for some parts. Sorry.
A/N: This fic is a collaboration between Faye and Lena, two h/c fans who elected to come together and combine our twisted minds to realize new heights of darkness to inflict on these poor characters. That said, we have endeavored to treat the subject matter and its psychological implications with respect. We will do our best to provide warnings for any triggery chapters. The nation of Morovia is purely fictional.
We would both like to thank sockie1000 for being a wonderful beta and slogging through this rather lengthy fic. We will be posting this in chapters, updating every Monday and Thursday.
Summary: The last thing Michael said to Billy was: we'll come back to get you. It was a promise he'd intended to keep, never doubted on keeping. But in the end it was a promise he'd broken.
"All human wisdom is contained in these two words-"Wait and Hope."
- Alexander Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
- o -
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.
Only the devils were gone - for now. Or were they hiding? No, no they were gone. All gone. No one was coming back. No one was coming for him. Why would they? He was no one. He was dying. He was nothing. Ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, bones left to rot in the corner of some dark dungeon, forgotten... It was dark. Had he gone blind? Had they taken his sight as well as everything else? No, no he had his eyes, but they'd taken the rest... taken everything. He had nothing left.
Maybe he was already dead. Had he died and failed to notice? Or maybe he'd died long since; this was hell, it had to be. No way for it to get any worse...
It always got worse.
Until it stopped.
All he wanted now was for it to stop...
But the pain that wracked him now was old and dull. They'd been abandoned. Thank God. If there was a God. No, couldn't be a God. Just the devils. Just him, and hell. Alone in the dark, forgotten to finally die. Finally be nothing.
He curled up on his side, squeezed his eyes closed against the darkness, and waited for his heart to stop.