I don't own it. Really.

The leader was pacing again. After taking a quick look at the men to make sure they wouldn't jump him, Don went to the dark teen beside him who was on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Hey," Don whispered, trying not to draw attention to him. He put a hand on Frank's shoulder. He was breathing fast and heavy. His shirt was ripped, revealing boot marks all over his back. One of his wounds was spilling blood over the cold concrete floor. "Deep breaths."

The breathing changed until it was in check, though Don was afraid that the boy might pass out. "How's Joe?" he asked, his voice strained.

Don looked over at his own brother, who was kneeling next to a prone figure. Charlie had a nose that was streaming blood, but the boy he was leaning over wasn't moving. "Dunno. He tried some heroics while Charlie was in a jam." He smiled, thinking of his younger brother. "Stupid kid." This thought was echoed by Frank at almost the exact same moment.

Don looked down and smiled lopsidedly. "Hard being the oldest?"

Frank tried to flip over, but Don held him down. He let a hiss of pain escape his lips. "You bet."

Don nodded knowingly. He wished he could go to Charlie ― make sure he was alright and all that. Instead, he started ripping his own shirt, knowing that if Frank's wound wasn't covered, he'd pass out from loss of blood.

And their side would lose a good fighter.

After checking again to make sure that the "guards" weren't taking notice of him, Don started wrapping the makeshift bandage around Frank's stomach, passing over small scars and half-healed bruises. "Not the first time you've been hurt, huh?"

A small, forced smile from the boy. "Not even close."

Don went a couple more times around, though he could see the blood already leaking through. "I'm going to have to pull this tighter." With a swift jerk, the bandage became taut. He heard Frank bite back a scream.

"Don't worry," Don tried to comfort. "We called for backup before we came in. They should be here soon." An hour wasn't soon enough, though. Frank's eyes were glazed over, and Don could see that he was barely holding on to consciousness. He was going to pass out soon.

Charlie was trying to wake Joe. He had deduced that a blow to the back of the head, which was now bleeding freely, was what rendered him unconscious. By pressing his hand hard against it, Charlie had managed to stop most of the bleeding, yet the teen still wouldn't wake up.

And he (Charlie) wasn't in the best shape either. Objects were swimming in front of his eyes. He knew that his nose was broken, and he also had been stabbed in the side. The wound wasn't long, but it was at least two inches deep. Before he could help Joe any more, he knew that he'd have to try to stop the bleeding.

He only noticed that his hands were shaking when he tried to rip off a piece of cloth. It was only by pulling hard that he ended up with a piece large enough to cover the wound.

A hand on his arm made him jump. Looking over, Charlie realized that Joe had touched him. "Hey," he said, leaving the cloth on the floor and moving in front of the teen. "You alright?"

Joe shook his head no, biting his lip as tears came to his eyes. Charlie could've kicked himself for asking such a stupid question. "Stay with me, alright?" Charlie remembered when he had had a head wound like this, and Don had kept him awake by asking him math questions. "What...what's your family like? What do you like to do?"

Joe's eyes opened wider, his breathing became easier. He was concentrating on keeping awake. That was good.

Except that at that moment, they got hauled to their feet again, and the nightmare continued.

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