DC fic: Escape Attempt (Scott/Barda)
Aug. 24th, 2008 10:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Escape Attempt
Fandom: Fourth World
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,310
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Barda
Summary: Scott doesn’t break and Barda doesn’t bend.
Darkseid had grown tired of Scott Free’s escape attempts; he was to be tortured until his freedom-loving spark was put out.
One look at Scott and Barda knew his resolve had doubled.
She had just returned from a thrag hunt with the rest of the Female Furies. Thrag meat was succulent under the coarse skin and quills. While she waited for it to roast, Barda thought she’d resolve a niggling problem.
Scott was suspended on the face of a diamond-shaped platform, his legs and arms spread-eagled so that they extended outside the platform. His legs were broken, his arms manacled. Through his ragged clothing Barda could see his ribs against his bruised skin. She slapped his face to get his attention, his ratty beard prickling her hand.
“The guard says you won’t eat.”
Scott fixed her with a stare.
“Why not?”
Scott’s lips were chapped. With a growl, Barda pulled her canteen from her belt and forced the spigot to Scott’s mouth. He drank greedily. The water that escaped his mouth washed some of the dirt off his chin. Finally, Barda pulled the canteen away and pointed at the bowl of gruel in the corner.
“Why won’t you eat?”
Scott coughed up the last of the water. “Waiter… there’s a fly in my soup.”
“It is inadequate to your satisfaction?”
“Yeah.” Scott coughed again, even though he had nothing to cough on. “That.”
His eyes followed her out of the room. Barda felt them even after she’d left.
***
The thrag meat was tasteless to her. She thought of Scott, his throat working in gulps as he drank her water, his eyes unable to hold in their gratitude. She couldn’t hear the Furies quarreling, the roar of the fire. She took her plate, full of perfect meat, and descended to the dungeon.
Scott had not moved. A fly crawled over his face, across his sweaty forehead. He seemed to find her arrival infinitely more interesting. Although his face was taciturn, his eyes were confused.
She held a slice of meat up to him. “Will this suffice?”
He looked at it, like there was a microscope between him and the meat that he could use to ferret out poison. Then he jerked forward and snatched the meat out of her fingers. Barda watched, amused, as he gave it three quick chews and swallowed it down.
“You should take your time. Savor the flavor.” Barda picked up another morsel. “Stay still and open your mouth.”
Keeping his eyes trained on her, Scott opened his mouth. Barda delicately placed the morsel inside. He closed his mouth, chewed slowly. Watching her, always watching her. Still confused, but pleased.
Barda, in turn, watched him. There was something endlessly engrossing about the way his jaw worked, his lips smacked. Like he was enjoying the meat on a plateau denied to the rest of Apokolips. She popped another morsel into her own mouth.
“It needs some spice,” Scott said. His voice was calm, if drawn. Wan. Quiet as a guttering flame. “Thyme. Ginger. Black pepper…”
“You’re a chef now?”
“Try smelling it before you eat it.”
She raised another morsel to her lips. Took a sniff before she ate it. The flavor was stronger, but still a bit plain. It could do with some spice.
Barda jammed another morsel into Scott’s mouth before he could comment. “I know Aero-Troopers don’t have it easy, but they must have it better than this. Why can’t you just surrender?”
Scott’s contented munching turned slow, not out of a desire to enjoy the flavor, but more of a thoughtful delay to the answer. Finally, he swallowed and met her eyes. “Can’t.”
“What do you mean, can’t? It’s easy.”
“Show me.”
Barda snapped to attention like she was at the head of an imaginary battalion. “Hail Great Darkseid! Deliver us from freedom! Liberate us from tranquility! Lead us into anti-life!”
“Not surrender…” Scott closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them. “You don’t surrender. You choose.”
“I have been brought up to surrender my will and life to Darkseid!”
“An uninformed choice is still a choice. You don’t know a better way. There’s hope for you…”
She stared at him as she fed him another morsel, trying to discern where the fault lay in him. Was it so deep inside that she couldn’t see it through his skin and flesh? Why didn’t he fit in?
Scott swallowed, licked his dry lips. “You haven’t hit me yet. Unusual, in my experience.”
“It would serve no purpose.”
“It would bring you pleasure. It does all the rest.” He forced his eyes wider to look upon her. “But not you… you don’t like it down here. You pity me.”
“You intrigue me.”
“Interest. Beguile. Enchant. Synonyms are funny things.”
“You’re a runt. I could have bigger.”
“You could have better.” His eyes shifted downward so he was staring at the plate of food hungrily. “Would you like to know about my choice? From one outcast to another?”
“I’m not an outcast!” she cried.
“Not yet. You feed uncooperative prisoners. You protest torture chambers. I even hear rumors that you shelter undesirables in your unit.”
“Tell me about your choice and I’ll bring you more.”
Scott looked at her, his watery blue eyes becoming clearer by the minute. “I’d hate to disappoint you. Alright. There were men. Men who rebel against Darkseid’s rules.”
“Traitors!”
“Yes,” Scott replied, cool and collected. “They showed me the lie. They showed me better ways.”
“What better ways?”
“Freedom. Escape. Just beyond the next wall. It’s a rush you wouldn’t believe. When I escape, even if I’m to be recaptured, I free my spirit.”
Barda leaned forward, her teeth clenched together in a hiss. “You’re just a freak who can’t find wholesome pleasure in submission to Darkseid!”
“Yes.” His eyes traced over her with the motion his restrained body denied to him. “I wish I could, sometimes, though… I wish I’d never been given the choice. Do you know what that’s like?”
Barda held out another morsel to him. There was something about the process – the way his eyes lit up when he bit down, the very fact that he was drawing sustenance from her hand – that she was finding invigorating right down to her core. When he took the meat from her, his lips seemed to caress the tips of her fingers. She pulled them back, juicy with the grease from the thrag meat.
“No, of course you don’t,” Scott said miserably before seeming to get a second wind. “It has to be better out there! It has to be!”
There was a tiny bit of gristle in his beard. Barda reached to remove it and Scott automatically moved his lips to her fingertips. Even when he realized his mistake, the ivory of his teeth against her blunt fingernails, he didn’t stop. He watched her closely, penetratingly, as he sucked the meat’s juices from the tips of her fingers.
“You were starving yourself,” Barda said, breathless, her heart rattling her chest for no reason she could see. “I made you eat. You surrendered.”
He pulled away just a little, but like a moth to the flame he leaned forward as far as he could, brushing his lips over the fingernail until he reached the knuckle. “To you. Not to him.”
“Why me?”
He stopped with his lips against her pulse. Raised his eyes but not his head, giving him a ferally crouched appearance. “You’re cute.”
Barda backed up, horrified. “I am an officer in Darkseid’s Female Fury Corps!”
“A very cute one!”
“I will not return here! You will eat your gruel or you will starve!” Barda slammed the cell door behind her.
Scott used his tongue to draw the lockpick-sized piece of bone out from the back of his mouth. “That’s okay. I don’t plan on sticking around.”
Fandom: Fourth World
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,310
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Barda
Summary: Scott doesn’t break and Barda doesn’t bend.
Darkseid had grown tired of Scott Free’s escape attempts; he was to be tortured until his freedom-loving spark was put out.
One look at Scott and Barda knew his resolve had doubled.
She had just returned from a thrag hunt with the rest of the Female Furies. Thrag meat was succulent under the coarse skin and quills. While she waited for it to roast, Barda thought she’d resolve a niggling problem.
Scott was suspended on the face of a diamond-shaped platform, his legs and arms spread-eagled so that they extended outside the platform. His legs were broken, his arms manacled. Through his ragged clothing Barda could see his ribs against his bruised skin. She slapped his face to get his attention, his ratty beard prickling her hand.
“The guard says you won’t eat.”
Scott fixed her with a stare.
“Why not?”
Scott’s lips were chapped. With a growl, Barda pulled her canteen from her belt and forced the spigot to Scott’s mouth. He drank greedily. The water that escaped his mouth washed some of the dirt off his chin. Finally, Barda pulled the canteen away and pointed at the bowl of gruel in the corner.
“Why won’t you eat?”
Scott coughed up the last of the water. “Waiter… there’s a fly in my soup.”
“It is inadequate to your satisfaction?”
“Yeah.” Scott coughed again, even though he had nothing to cough on. “That.”
His eyes followed her out of the room. Barda felt them even after she’d left.
***
The thrag meat was tasteless to her. She thought of Scott, his throat working in gulps as he drank her water, his eyes unable to hold in their gratitude. She couldn’t hear the Furies quarreling, the roar of the fire. She took her plate, full of perfect meat, and descended to the dungeon.
Scott had not moved. A fly crawled over his face, across his sweaty forehead. He seemed to find her arrival infinitely more interesting. Although his face was taciturn, his eyes were confused.
She held a slice of meat up to him. “Will this suffice?”
He looked at it, like there was a microscope between him and the meat that he could use to ferret out poison. Then he jerked forward and snatched the meat out of her fingers. Barda watched, amused, as he gave it three quick chews and swallowed it down.
“You should take your time. Savor the flavor.” Barda picked up another morsel. “Stay still and open your mouth.”
Keeping his eyes trained on her, Scott opened his mouth. Barda delicately placed the morsel inside. He closed his mouth, chewed slowly. Watching her, always watching her. Still confused, but pleased.
Barda, in turn, watched him. There was something endlessly engrossing about the way his jaw worked, his lips smacked. Like he was enjoying the meat on a plateau denied to the rest of Apokolips. She popped another morsel into her own mouth.
“It needs some spice,” Scott said. His voice was calm, if drawn. Wan. Quiet as a guttering flame. “Thyme. Ginger. Black pepper…”
“You’re a chef now?”
“Try smelling it before you eat it.”
She raised another morsel to her lips. Took a sniff before she ate it. The flavor was stronger, but still a bit plain. It could do with some spice.
Barda jammed another morsel into Scott’s mouth before he could comment. “I know Aero-Troopers don’t have it easy, but they must have it better than this. Why can’t you just surrender?”
Scott’s contented munching turned slow, not out of a desire to enjoy the flavor, but more of a thoughtful delay to the answer. Finally, he swallowed and met her eyes. “Can’t.”
“What do you mean, can’t? It’s easy.”
“Show me.”
Barda snapped to attention like she was at the head of an imaginary battalion. “Hail Great Darkseid! Deliver us from freedom! Liberate us from tranquility! Lead us into anti-life!”
“Not surrender…” Scott closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them. “You don’t surrender. You choose.”
“I have been brought up to surrender my will and life to Darkseid!”
“An uninformed choice is still a choice. You don’t know a better way. There’s hope for you…”
She stared at him as she fed him another morsel, trying to discern where the fault lay in him. Was it so deep inside that she couldn’t see it through his skin and flesh? Why didn’t he fit in?
Scott swallowed, licked his dry lips. “You haven’t hit me yet. Unusual, in my experience.”
“It would serve no purpose.”
“It would bring you pleasure. It does all the rest.” He forced his eyes wider to look upon her. “But not you… you don’t like it down here. You pity me.”
“You intrigue me.”
“Interest. Beguile. Enchant. Synonyms are funny things.”
“You’re a runt. I could have bigger.”
“You could have better.” His eyes shifted downward so he was staring at the plate of food hungrily. “Would you like to know about my choice? From one outcast to another?”
“I’m not an outcast!” she cried.
“Not yet. You feed uncooperative prisoners. You protest torture chambers. I even hear rumors that you shelter undesirables in your unit.”
“Tell me about your choice and I’ll bring you more.”
Scott looked at her, his watery blue eyes becoming clearer by the minute. “I’d hate to disappoint you. Alright. There were men. Men who rebel against Darkseid’s rules.”
“Traitors!”
“Yes,” Scott replied, cool and collected. “They showed me the lie. They showed me better ways.”
“What better ways?”
“Freedom. Escape. Just beyond the next wall. It’s a rush you wouldn’t believe. When I escape, even if I’m to be recaptured, I free my spirit.”
Barda leaned forward, her teeth clenched together in a hiss. “You’re just a freak who can’t find wholesome pleasure in submission to Darkseid!”
“Yes.” His eyes traced over her with the motion his restrained body denied to him. “I wish I could, sometimes, though… I wish I’d never been given the choice. Do you know what that’s like?”
Barda held out another morsel to him. There was something about the process – the way his eyes lit up when he bit down, the very fact that he was drawing sustenance from her hand – that she was finding invigorating right down to her core. When he took the meat from her, his lips seemed to caress the tips of her fingers. She pulled them back, juicy with the grease from the thrag meat.
“No, of course you don’t,” Scott said miserably before seeming to get a second wind. “It has to be better out there! It has to be!”
There was a tiny bit of gristle in his beard. Barda reached to remove it and Scott automatically moved his lips to her fingertips. Even when he realized his mistake, the ivory of his teeth against her blunt fingernails, he didn’t stop. He watched her closely, penetratingly, as he sucked the meat’s juices from the tips of her fingers.
“You were starving yourself,” Barda said, breathless, her heart rattling her chest for no reason she could see. “I made you eat. You surrendered.”
He pulled away just a little, but like a moth to the flame he leaned forward as far as he could, brushing his lips over the fingernail until he reached the knuckle. “To you. Not to him.”
“Why me?”
He stopped with his lips against her pulse. Raised his eyes but not his head, giving him a ferally crouched appearance. “You’re cute.”
Barda backed up, horrified. “I am an officer in Darkseid’s Female Fury Corps!”
“A very cute one!”
“I will not return here! You will eat your gruel or you will starve!” Barda slammed the cell door behind her.
Scott used his tongue to draw the lockpick-sized piece of bone out from the back of his mouth. “That’s okay. I don’t plan on sticking around.”
