Fic: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (1/6)
Title: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (1/6)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Christy/Virgil, Quinton McHale, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Chuck Parker, Harrison 'Tinker' Bell, Willy Moss, Lester Gruber, The Brothel Master
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: R
Warnings: Physical and psychological torture; Rape
Spoilers: None
General Summary: When Virgil falls ill, his high fever sends his mind back to the brothel during.one of his worst experiences there.
Chapter Summary: The Fever Strikes.
Date Of Completion: January 5, 2023
Dates Of Posting: January 7/8, 2023
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 2173
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Notes: The song Three Little Fishies (by Kay Kyser) was used in the episode Movies Are Your Best Diversion (1x5) and, yes, the crew saw the movie Penelope Of Blueberry Hill seven times! 😄
The entire series can be found here.
I
TO THE CHAIN
"Unless a slave is broken to the chain, or also known as broken to the saddle, he is utterly useless."
Merrill S. Halvorsen
Director
Department Of
Slave Management
Speech Given To
The National Press Club
Washington, D.C.
January 6, 1922
Virgil and Christy were busy repairing the net used for allowing men to climb up on the PT-73, like at Marauna. The morning was hot and both sailors wore their uniform sleeves rolled up. They worked silently until Christy began singing, "'Swim,' said the mama fishie. 'Swim if you can.' And they swam, swam, swam right over the dam."
Virgil grinned and picked up the lyrics, "Down in the meadow in the little bitty pool swam three little fishies and a mama fishie, too. 'Swim,' said the mama fishie, 'Swim if you can.'"
Christy joined in and they chorused, "And they swam and they swam right over the dam!"
They broke up laughing. Christy shook his head as he said, "Man, after seeing Penelope Of Blueberry Hill seven times, no wonder that song got stuck in our heads. "
Virgil chuckled. "Those three little fishies were pretty naughty. The sharks almost got 'em whrn they swam out to sea. They shoulda listened to their mama fishie."
"Ha, ha, you're right. You should always listen to your mama."
Virgil's smile faltered but he quickly said, "Penelope was a trouper."
Christy laughed. "Blueberry Hill's a happenin' place." He knotted a section of the net and asked, "What time is it?"
Virgil looked at his wristwatch. "Nine-twenty."
Christy stood up and stretched. "I've got a meeting with the Skip to go over navigational charts. Can you handle the rest of this?"
"Sure."
"Okay." Christy came over and kissed Virgil, who smiled happily as the blond straightened. Christy caressed Virgil's shoulder and headed for the Skipper's hut.
The slight breeze rustled the leaves of the palm trees in the small clearing, which was located close to the recreation hut. It was a pleasant setting, providing shade from the tropical sun.
Virgil's fingers nimbly repaired the net. The hemp was rough material but he kept at it. He wanted to do the best job possible. People trusted him to do a good job, and that was important to him. Being a reliable crewman was something to be proud of, to be sure.
Here he was valued for more than his body. He was counted on to do his tasks quickly and efficiently, and it was his responsibility to keep his machine gun aboard the PT-73 oiled and ready. His skill with it and his coolness under fire was greatly admired.
Little fishie, you can't swim and swim all over the dam.
Startled, Virgil looked around. "Christy, is that you?" The only response was the wind singing through the trees. Could it be someone else? He didn't mind practical jokes. That showed the guys thought of him as one of the guys
Virgil resumed repairing the net. Probably just my imagination. He stretched. His lower back was sore. Maybe he should ask Christy to give him a massage. That would be nice.
He was happy. He never thought he would ever feel that way again after he tested positive for FH.
In the middle of a war, I'm happy. How screwed up is that?
Virgil smiled. Screwed up fit this crew perfectly, and he was a member of this crew, right?
He continued working, humming as he mended the tears in the net. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his arm. It was too hot to be in full uniform. After he finished here, he would take a shower and change to shorts and go shirtless. He smiled as he recalled the Skipper telling him, "When you dress in only your little black shorts, the men like to look."
Virgil liked the guys to look. He had worked hard to develop this body. It wasn't really his anymore; it belonged to his Masters, but he was a good caretaker and proud of his body. Back in the brothel all they cared about was his body. Here, they cared about it, but he was more than just sexual release, which somehow made it easier for him to display himself.
What if after the war, they send me back to the brothel instead of keeping me in the Navy?
He pushed the thought away. The Navy just had to keep him. The brothel would be too stifling now.
He finished the last repair and stood, a wave of dizziness assailing him. He steadied himself on the trunk of a palm tree.
Whoa, the heat must be getting to me.
He tested his forehead. It was warm, but in the tropics, that was a fact of life.
He waited for the lightheadedness to pass and slowly started walking to the crew quarters. Once inside, he stripped and slipped his feet into sandals. He rummaged around in his seabag and cursed softly. He was out of shampoo.
Virgil snapped his fingers. There was a bottle in the slave hut. He left crew quarters and trudged toward the slave hut with his towel.
Once inside he bent down to grab the bottle out of a cabinet and straightened up. He gasped as the dizziness hit him again. His ears were ringing and he could feel a vein in his temple throbbing. He staggered as a voice whispered, "Little fishie, we're reeling you in." Virgil passed out and fell onto the bed.
& & & & & &
McHale frowned as he regarded the abandoned net. "Virgil?" he called. His voice echoed throughout the clearing.
He walked back to the main common area. Happy was walking toward the cook shack when McHale asked him, "Have you seen Virgil?"
"No, Skip "
Christy came out of McHale's hut. "Hey, Skip, should I bring the charts to the boat?"
"Sure."
Christy disappeared back into the hut. Chuck came out of his quarters and waved the latest supply requisition list.
"What is it, Chuck?"
"I got a question, Skip."
As they talked, Christy exited the Skipper's hut carrying an armload of rolled-up charts.
"Hey, Christy, you seen Virgil?" asked McHale
"No, why?"
"The climbing net is still at the clearing, but no sign of Virg."
"Maybe he went to the latrine."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, Tink, Willy. Go get the net and bring it back to the 73."
"Okay, Skip," said Tinker. He and Willy ambled toward the clearing. All was quiet for a few minutes.
"Please, no!"
Virgil's cry startled everyone. He was standing in the doorway of the slave hut, naked and wild-eyed. He started down the stairs and promptly fell, landing in a painful heap at the bottom. Before anyone could move, Virgil crawled over to McHale and grabbed his pants leg.
"Please, Master, please, I've been good."
McHale looked down into fever-bright eyes. He started to reach down to touch Virgil, who flinched violently and scrabbled away, He cowered against the wall of the slave hut. He raised his hands in protective entreaty, flinching as he begged, "Please, no, please."
"Virgil, honey, no one's gonna hurt you," McHale said, approaching the fearful man cautiously.
Virgil flinched. "I didn't br...brush... against you. I d... don't think... I'm better...than anyone." McHale touched his arm and he cried out, "I'm already broken. What more do you want from me?!" The cry of anguish touched every heart.
Gruber had come up from the boat when he heard the commotion. He frowned as he listened to Virgil plead, "I've been good; I've been good." Virgil's body writhed as if being struck.
Christy dropped the charts he was holding and started forward, but Gruber stopped him with a hand on his arm and addressed McHale . "Skip, Virgil looks sick."
"He's got a fever."
"How can that be?" Christy asked as his face reflected his anguish. "He was fine just an hour ago."
McHale knotted his brows together. "Could be Zangarra's Fever. You're literally fine one minute, burning up the next. Virgil's eyes are way too bright."
"He's out of his head," Tinker said sadly. He and Willy had been heading to the 73 with the net but had stopped when Virgil had first appeared.
Virgil was shaking, trying to protect himself. He screamed a cry of pure pain, his hand hovering over his left wrist. He curled into himself, rocking back and forth.
"I have to go to him. Let go, Gruber." Christy tried to shake the older man off.
"We've got to figure this out."
"Figure what out?"
Gruber looked at McHale. "He thinks he's in the brothel."
& & & & & &
Fifteen Minutes Earlier
"You brushed up against me."
"No, no, I didn't." Virgil cut off a cry as the Brothel Master slapped him hard, sending him to his knees.
"Don't backtalk, whore. You know what you did." The Brothel Master grabbed Virgil's hair and tugged. "You consider yourself better than everyone here: slaves, guards, even my fellow Brothel Masters."
"No, no, that's not true. I don't think that." I just think we slaves are human beings, better than what you make us.
The Brothel Master shook Virgil. "You're thinking it right now, aren't you, whore? Well, think again." He forced Virgil's head down to touch the floor and tied his hands behind his back. He kicked Virgil's thigh. "Spread those naked legs even wider, whore " Virgil quickly obeyed. The Brothel Master used his truncheon to tap Virgil's buttocks. Rough guards' hands spread his ass cheeks painfully wide. The truncheon circled his anus, slipping inside. "This is what you are, whore. This is the focal point of your life. For you, there is nothing else."
Tears prickled Virgil's eyes. "No," he whispered.
The Brothel Master and guards laughed. The Master slid the truncheon in and out of the shaking slave's body. He leaned down and whispered, "We're going to break you."
Straightening up, he said, "Now, time for punishment." The Master's voice became hard. "Take him."
The guards dragged Virgil to a bare room, a single window streaming sunlight in. The floor was hardwood, and Virgil was thrown against the wall after untying his hands. He recoiled from the blood splatters on the wall and floor.
"Begin," barked the Brothel Master.
Virgil gasped as the truncheons hit his body. The blows were steady and methodical, some striking hard and others glancing off his skin, otherwise too many of V irgil's bones would be broken. The guards were well-trained, employing the Maximum Pain, Minimum Damage method.
Virgil put up his hands to protect his face and head. He gasped again as a blow landed against his ribs. Pain bloomed everywhere, making it difficult to breathe as tears began to flow.
He screamed as his wrist was hit. The pain he felt was that of a broken bone. He had fallen out of a tree as a child, breaking his arm, and this was the same kind of pain, nauseating in its severity. He began to shake, his right hand hovering over his wrist, but he dared not touch it.
The beating continued. His right thigh was targeted, and the bruises would be spectacular. Walking was going to be a chore. Virgil sobbed quietly, knowing that it was useless to beg for mercy. He would have to endure.
But it was so hard! He had no idea how.long he had been suffering this beating. Time was lost to him. He was so alone.
"Remember what you are," said the Brothel Master as he slid the truncheon up Virgil's inner thigh and jammed it into his body. To Virgil's horror, his muscles automatically clenched around the thick rod. The Master pumped it in and out of the battered slave. Despite his pain, Virgil wanted to push down and impale himself further.
Is the Brothel Master right about me? That I'm just a whore?
The Brothel Master removed the truncheon. Virgil thought he heard laughter, but he was so confused and too pain-ridden to make sense of anything. His body still craved that rod, to his utter humiliation. It added to his instincts in keeping his legs spread wide. The mantra was, "Keep your legs spread while standing, sitting, kneeling and sleeping." He edged his legs open a little wider. He could not see much of anything. His eyes were blurred with tears, and he passed out from the pain.
Virgil gasped and coughed as water was thrown in his face to revive him."How do you like that, fish?" a guard taunted. The pain was everywhere. He tried to protect his ribs, certain that at least two were broken. He passed out one more time, was revived, and throbbed from head-to-toe. He blinked and could see fresh blood on the hardwood floor. He wondered if the beating would ever stop, or was this hell?
Finally, to his surprise, the beating stopped. The Brothel Master said coolly, "Bring him."
"Please, Master, I'll be good," he begged.
The guards dragged a bleeding and battered Virgil to his room. He was thrown on the bed, stifling a cry of pain.
"Now," the Brothel Master said, "if you survive the night, you will have proven worthy of us expending medical resources on you."
The Brothel Master and the guards left, the bedroom door locked behind them.
This chapter can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)