Fic: Higher Than Hope (Sex Corps, Jeff/Jensen) (3/4)
Part 2
Part 3
Jensen knew when they dragged him back to Isaacs's lab that it wouldn't be good. The number of former scuts in the cells had dwindled down to four. He supposed it would be three now.
They'd placed him in those same high tech restraints that completely encased his hands and feet, that could be positioned to hold Jensen in any position Isaacs liked. Much more convenient than having to change from a bench, to a cross, to a surgical table. A flip of a switch and Jensen was prone or spread however the good doctor liked. Right now they had him spreadeagled, hovering a few feet off the floor, at just the perfect height for Isaacs to examine him.
Isaacs walked into the lab, followed by his two favorite assistants - Ryan and the lizard slave. He pulled on a pair of tight gloves as he entered, the expression on his face gleeful.
Jensen tried counting his heartbeats in a frantic attempt to keep his center. If he were about to die, he'd do it with dignity. It was the only control he had left.
"I've finally figured out what to do with you, Jensen is it?" Isaacs pulled a surgical cart from the corner and began organizing the tools.
"Doesn't matter, does it?" Ryan said with her usual smirk.
Jensen never had gotten the chance to punch her. He regretted that. But the doctor's words made Jensen think he wasn't going to die right now, so he might have the chance eventually. He attempted to flex his fingers encased in the restraints, to no avail. They didn't even give him the luxury of holding on to something. His fingers felt numb, just like the rest of his hands and his feet.
"What are you going to do to me?" Jensen rasped. Part of him didn't want to know. But if he knew, he could prepare, somehow. His heart started to race and he couldn’t keep up to keep counting the beats. Would he be made into a creature, like lizard slave? Or would his limbs be modified like some of the other slaves he'd seen around the complex.
Isaacs picked up a wicked looking hypoderm from the tray before moving to Jensen's side. He stood ridiculously close, brushing against Jensen's bare chest. Fingers probed at Jensen's temple. "You know you have lovely eyes."
Oh stars. Jensen swallowed and tried not to blink. He couldn't help the trembling that spread throughout his entire body. He opened his mouth, wanting to throw out some witty rejoinder. Instead he said, "Please. No."
Isaacs let out a little sigh. "Really? Must I gag you?"
"Don't. We want to hear him scream," Ryan said.
Jensen wouldn't look in her direction, although staring up at Isaacs's cold blue eyes didn't help much either. Isaacs looked amused, as if the prospect of pain and blindness for Jensen was something to laugh at. Jensen tugged on his restraints, trying to move, doing anything he could to resist this.
"I think he's too well trained to scream. Besides." Isaacs injected the hypoderm in Jensen's neck as he spoke. "If he wiggles too much I'm liable to damage something more precious."
Jensen cried out as the needle pricked his neck. That was the last sound he made. The drug was some sort of paralytic, freezing the muscles of his limbs. His breath came faster and Jensen feared it would act on his lungs and he'd suffocate, staring up at that cold face.
"As I was saying. You have lovely eyes," Isaacs went back to his tray, leaving Jensen bereft of any contact. "I wouldn't want to destroy them. However, you see too much."
He turned back with another device and attached it to the skin on Jensen's temple. At first it didn't feel like anything at all, but then it began to burn. "I've made note of that. You watch and analyze when you think we're not looking." He tsked. "Might be a good trait for a soldier, even a valued slave. But you're neither of those things. You're our prisoner. And soon you'll be our whore."
He couldn't scream. Jensen felt it bubble up in his throat, his strangled voice captured by the paralytic and stuffed down where no one could hear it. Right now he couldn't even blink. His eyes filled, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
The burning became more intense before it turned into sharp, piercing pain. Isaacs was all but humming as he worked, more instruments gathered up and inserted. But Jensen couldn't focus on that, couldn't focus on anything but the agony going on inside his head. Isaacs had stopped him from moving, but didn't include an analgesic in his drug cocktail.
That fucking son of a bitch. Jensen tried to rage, to hold on to anger when he couldn't even scream. He choked, his body rebelling against the pain somehow.
"None of that. Nearly done."
Everything went dark. And Jensen was still awake.
***
Jensen's mistake was in trying to crawl away.
He had little time to recover from his surgery. Newly blinded, they'd dragged him out of the lab. Jensen kept blinking, kept trying to see, but there was nothing.
"Handy trick," lizard boy said in his lisping voice. "Sever your nerves, but your eyes are just as pretty as ever."
Jensen thought they'd take him back to his cell, make him flounder in his own filth. But no, they'd taken him to the lounge. It was always filled, though Jensen never knew who the clients were. He guessed they were members of this project Parvati, who took out their frustrations on the scut slaves. Though sometimes he thought otherwise. There always seemed to be new people to serve.
Now in the dark, it was a thousand times worse. Jensen couldn't see who touched him. He couldn't gauge his responses on what the person seemed to want. Strong hands would grasp his hips right before shoving a cock inside him, hard and stretching him widely. He'd try to grasp for some sort of purchase, some way to brace himself against the hard pounding.
Jensen never noticed the fabric here before, except that it scraped up his knees and elbows. Now, with his cheek pressed against it, it was all he could focus on, the rough burn of it against his skin, the sour smell of urine and semen that filled his nostrils. That didn't last long until someone (or maybe more than one?) grasped his hair and pulled him up, gagging him with another dick.
He didn't know how long it went on for, being passed from hand to hand, not knowing what was next - being thrown over the end of a couch, or being forced to straddle someone's lap.
They'd let him drop to the floor and that was when Jensen tried to crawl away. He moved on instinct, just wanting it all to stop. Just fucking stop. But no, it had to get worse.
The voices protested and then they laughed. "I'll keep him in place," someone said, but before Jensen could parse that he felt the piercing agony in his right hand as something sharp was shoved through his palm and into the hard floor below. He screamed as the same thing happened to his left hand.
Strong hands grabbed his ankles and Jensen kicked out, knowing what was coming.
Even with knowing he could be prepared for the stakes through his feet. He thought they were knives, the way the blade sliced so easily into his skin. When he tried to move Jensen could feel his body tear on the inside. Slick hands prodded at his anus and Jensen whimpered, unable to move at all, just like he'd been imprisoned in Isaac's lab. Even if he screamed, they'd just laugh. He could do nothing but submit.
His dick curved hot and hard against his thigh. Jensen burned with the shame of it, his flesh overheated.
I'm sorry, he thought, over and over, biting his lips to keep from saying the words out loud. But he didn't know who he was apologizing to.
***
Adrianne followed on Jared's heels as they entered the house. They'd come this morning to inspect the old Ackles ranch. The property now belonged to Jared, but as he had no idea on how to actually run it, Jared had been sure to keep all the old staff hired on. The house, however, had been used by the Corps management as a main office. Jared had requested they clear it out when they vacated the property.
So it was into an empty room they walked into, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Light filtered in from the uncovered windows, sending shafts of sunlight on the opposite wall. Jared walked across the room to the staircase, rubbing at the railing thoughtfully.
"You grew up here?"
"Till I was 15," he said, sounding so very far away even though he stood only a few feet from her.
She ached for him. Adrianne knew he missed Jensen terribly, and this entire situation didn't make his grief any easier.
"Course I don't even recognize it," Jared shook his head. "Without my dad's recliner. My mom's quilts over the back of the couch. Meggie's toys on the floor. I was always chasing after Jen…" He trailed off.
Adrianne finally moved to his side. She touched his arm, feeling the muscles tense under her fingers. "Jared, this is your chance to make it a home again. Make it our home."
He shook his head. "Don't want to do it alone."
"Well, I do think I can help." She tried to smile. Adrianne hadn't brought up the wedding, not since they'd learned about Jensen's capture. Jared had so wanted his brother to be there. She kept it wrapped in her heart, because even without that ceremony Jared belonged to her. "If you let me."
Jared nodded. He led her up the stairs, pointing out the four bedrooms. "That was Jen's room. Right next to mine…"
"Jared," she said. "You can't think of the past anymore. Which one is going to be our room?"
He looked like he wanted to argue with her. Jared got all red in the face, the way it did right before he exploded in anger. But he didn't shout or scream. For just a moment Jared closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We should take the master suite," he said, finally, though his voice was raw.
"Show me," she took his arm. Adrianne vowed to make this place a home, with their own stamp on the house. Jared should have only good memories here.
***
Jensen started to lose track of time. He slept whenever they left him alone, curled into a ball in his cell after being force-fed something disgusting. When he couldn't sleep he'd compose letters to Jeff in his head, imagining how Jeff would respond. Sometimes Jensen could swear he could even see Jeff, sitting there with him in his cell, even though he couldn't see anything else.
He'd pretend he was back on Harmony, sometimes. Jensen would lean against the bars, feel the metal press against his skin and imagine Jeff was on his way. He just had to wait a little bit longer. Just hold on.
Every moment that passed made holding on that much harder. Especially when Isaacs started to whore him out to different clients.
"Lovely, isn't he? Can't see a thing, so he won't see you coming. The boys at the lounge found a handy way to keep him in place. I highly recommend it."
Jensen flexed his hands, which never stopped aching. His clients liked him pinned down to the floor like a science experiment. His masters just stopped healing the wounds. Maybe he'd die of infection before they broke him completely. He could always hope.
Today (tonight? This afternoon? Jensen never knew) he had been led to one of the private rooms his more prestigious clients used. He only guessed about that, listening to their conversations with Isaacs or Ryan. Even though he couldn't see, Jensen hadn't stopped observing. He just needed to use different senses to do it.
Jensen crawled the length of the room, carefully putting out one hand to feel his way before proceeding. The carpet was soft and lush, more for the john's comfort than his. His fingers were just starting to go numb and Jensen feared he'd lose all feeling before they were finished with him. He followed the wall around the room, noting the location of the en suite as well as a large heavy box that he couldn't open. Jensen guessed they kept the toys and knifes to be used on him. Of course it was locked. He tried to open it every time.
He'd made his way to the center, edging the bed with the silky fabric all around the edges. A giggle rose up in his throat. As if they ever fucked him on the bed!
The door slid open with a soft whooshing sound. Jensen stilled. He bowed his head, braced by his elbows and knees. His hands were no longer reliable.
"This is the great scut I was supposed to fear?" The voice sent shivers down Jensen's spine. The tone was deep, it rolled with notes of arrogance and anger.
"As you can see, sir, he's been completely broken to our will." Isaacs. That bastard.
Jensen felt the footsteps on the carpet vibrate just before his hair was grabbed and his face forced up. "Completely helpless, as you can see."
Tears welled up in his useless eyes. Isaacs had pulled so hard he must have taken out a chunk of hair. Jensen got a whiff of the lab, the stench of sterile cleaner and metal tools. The smell made his stomach roil and he swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.
"Yes, yes, Isaacs, you do good work." That arrogant voice sounded downright bored now. That was always dangerous. "I'll call you when I need clean up."
Jensen trembled. Was this it? The client he wouldn’t survive?
"Of course, sir." Isaacs let Jensen go, not caring that Jensen nearly hit his forehead on the floor. Strange that the doctor gave in so easily. He normally liked to go on about his conquests to an eager audience.
His senses on alert, Jensen heard the door slide open and closed again. Isaacs leaving. He tried to listen for the footfalls of his new client, but the damn comfortable carpet made it hard. Instead he tried to feel the carpet, crouching close to the floor to catch the movement.
There was a tiny click, a sound Jensen knew from somewhere.
"Mala, hold all my calls. I'll comm you when you can let them through again."
"Yes, sir." The answering voice was tinny, a surefire sign it came from the other end of a comm unit.
A fucking comm unit. Jensen had never been left alone with any client who kept a comm with him. In fact, he would have bet anything that Isaacs wouldn't allow it. Either they thought Jensen too broken to resist, or this client was someone so important he could dictate his own rules.
Jensen fought to keep listening, to find out where that comm ended up. He heard the shuffling sound of clothing being removed, the clatter of something, perhaps he had put it down on a surface. Jensen hadn't gotten to explore the bed entirely, so he could only guess there was a table for the client to rest his possessions on. Didn't want to get them dirty, did they?
He needed to get his hands on that comm unit, somehow. Jensen couldn't fuck this up; it might be his one and only chance to get out of here.
"Please don't hurt me," he whimpered, cringing as he felt the footfalls come closer. Jensen needed to look broken. He wasn't sure how he looked, hell he wasn't even sure he actually wasn't broken.
The man laughed, a wheezing sound. He took hold of Jensen by his collar and forced his face up. Jensen could smell the man's breath, nearly taste the curry he must have had for lunch. "Isaacs did damn good with you. Wonder if you're as good as the last scut."
Who had been the last scut? Did they get to see this asshole's face right before they died? If Isaacs meant for him to be the coup de grace, the sole purpose for Jensen's breaking, then this bastard must be one sick fuck. After all Jensen had been through, this guy must mean to shred him limb from limb.
Not if Jensen got to him first.
The client threw Jensen back to the floor, so hard Jensen's nose throbbed as it made contact. He couldn't move his hands in time to protect himself. Jensen flexed his fingers. He needed strength right now, not necessarily dexterity.
A smack on his ass had Jensen jumping in startlement. He hated how quickly he could lose track of his surroundings. He needed to listen.
"Spread those legs. Now!" The man chuckled. "They told me you get hard no matter who's fucking you."
"Yes, sir," Jensen whispered. He could do this. He'd been trained to do this.
Jensen spread his legs, ass in the air as he braced himself on his elbows, saving his wrists, he hoped, for later. He held his breath as the man mounted him with nothing more than a grunt and a fierce grip around Jensen's hips. His cock breached Jensen's hole, feeling just as big and thick as the hundreds of cocks that had raped him. Jensen would never get used to it, but at this point, he could take his focus away from the pain.
All he had to do was wait for the right moment. Jensen listened with his body, felt when the client's rhythm started to speed up. The bastard was close. Jensen had to act now, as the guy came so he was too befuddled to fight back.
He felt the grip loosen on his waist, just a touch, but that was enough. Jensen slammed his head back with all the force he could muster, gratified when it made contact with a harsh crack.
"What the…"
Jensen was glad the client spoke, it made it easier to find him in his blindness. He turned and pounced before the other man recovered. This was when he needed his hands to work. With a quick motion, Jensen grabbed the man's head and twisted hard. He heard the snap and let go, crawling off of the dead body.
Had to get the comm now before they came after him. Jensen couldn't walk or run, but he crawled on his knees as fast as he could, following the lines of the bed. "Come on, come on," he murmured. It had to be here somewhere. His tortured hands came into the contact with fabric. He found sleeves - a jacket - and then pockets. Something fell when he fiddled with it. Jensen scrambled on the floor, breath coming faster as he made wide careful motions.
His arm came in contact with something cold and hard. Jensen grasped the comm and felt it with his fingertips. Luckily the button for voice controls was tactile, made that way for just this purpose, someone fiddling around in the dark.
"Make call," he ordered as the comm chirped on. "UP frequently Alpha 34 Red 78363. Broadcast. This is Captain Jensen Ackles, serial number KAZ2Y5. Can anyone read me?"
It was a long shot, hoping someone was in range. If they sent rescue ships, someone might be monitoring the frequencies. Jensen held his breath. If he didn't get a response soon he'd have to try to send a beacon and hope it wasn't intercepted.
The comm crackled to life. "Ackles? Holy hell, is that you?"
Kane! Of all people! Jensen let out a little laugh. "Yes, yes it's me. I don't have much time…"
"Where are you, son?"
"Indra," he rasped out. "If you can get into orbit, you can activate the tracer chemical in my tattoos…" If the scars crisscrossing his skin hadn't canceled that out. If Kane could get his precious, illegal, ship into the heart of the Confed. Too many Ifs.
"Indra. You don't do things halfway, do you?"
Jensen grinned, touching the comm to his lips. It felt real. "Hurry."
"I'll do my best."
He pushed the comm unit under the bed, hoping it would take them a while to notice it. Of course, he couldn't tell if he actually smoothed the covers, or only made them worse. Jensen crawled to the en suite bathroom, going the wrong direction at first so he had to retrace his steps along the wall. He shut the door behind him, locked it and curled up into a ball next to the toilet. It wouldn't take them long to find him, but Jensen wasn't planning on making it easy on anyone.
There were screams and the sounds of heavy boots marching before the hands came to claim him. Jensen had to cover his face as the blows rained down, Isaacs shouting, "You ignorant boy, do you know what you've done? How dare you!"
"Guess he wasn't as broken as you thought," Ryan's voice broke into the diatribe.
"You shut your mouth."
"You can't kill him. They'll want a trial. Need to broadcast it through the Confederation."
"Fuck you," Isaacs snapped, but the blows stopped, leaving Jensen shivering and aching. Something had ruptured inside, he didn't feel quite right. It was hard to catch his breath, his limbs were sluggish and seemed like they almost didn't belong to him. "Put him in his cage."
When someone moved to grab him, the motion jostling every nerve and causing pain to flare throughout his body, that's when Jensen just gave in. He let the quiet claim him and passed out.
***
Kane held his breath as the lift doors opened. The plan was a good one, far better than most of their hare-brained schemes and it would work. He and Steve were dressed like the janitorial staff, leading what appeared to be a cleaning bot. Nobody paid any attention to the cleaning crew.
The guards on the other side didn't even nod as Kane and Steve walked past them. Before the doors closed with the guards behind them one said to the other, "They're gonna have one hell of a mess to clean up. . ."
"Damn it," Steve muttered.
"Ignore them. Plug in the bot." Kane moved down the dark corridor of cells, bending to check each one. They hadn't come this far just to find Jensen dead.
Steve opened up a panel on the wall and the bot squealed as it connected to the port. It would scramble the cameras and security systems, hopefully long enough for them to get Jensen out and into the transport they had waiting in the streets. Daneel was holding her own at the spaceport, relying on a friend of a friend to keep them out of trouble and the ship ready to take off.
Kane had to double check to make sure the figure in the eighth cell was still breathing. Only then did he notice it was Jensen on the other side of those bars. "Steve, we ready?"
"Give me ten seconds." The other man touched something on the face of the bot. "Now."
"Open up cell number eight." He crouched down and slithered inside as soon as the bars went down. Damn, how long had they kept Jensen in here like this?
Kane pulled Jensen out, wincing at the streak of red left behind on the concrete floor. They needed to get his injuries assessed ASAP, but they needed to get out of the capital complex even sooner. Otherwise all three of them would end up dead.
"Here." Steve injected a hypoderm in the side of Jensen's neck. It was the standard cocktail from the first aid kit - anti-infectives, pain killer, and whatever the hell else they made to make sure you didn't bleed out in the field. "Fuck, they did a number on him."
"You surprised? Son of a bitch killed the god damn emperor. He's only still breathing cause they need that public trial."
"Well, they ain't gonna get it. Come on, help me with him."
Jensen was a dead weight in their arms as they placed him on the cart attached to the bot. Steve spread a tarp over him and Kane carefully laid the cleaning supplies over it. They needed to rely on people not looking too closely at them.
Kane sure as hell hoped the plan would work.
***
Later Jensen would only remember Steve's whispered voice and the clatter of metal against metal. He couldn't tell when they'd left the complex, or how Kane had gotten them all out. One moment he was there, shoved into his dirty cell, and the next, he'd woken up in a bed, the soft beeping of medical equipment keeping time next to his head.
His eyes fluttered open, but darkness still blanketed his vision. Jensen licked his lips, trying to feel the rest of his body.
"Don't try to get up," a voice said. "Are you thirsty? I have ice chips."
No, it couldn't be. He had to be dreaming. Maybe Jensen was still trapped in that cell and now caught in some sort of hallucination. "Dani?" he croaked out. He tried to sit up, to get away, because he had to be going insane and the guards would come get him any moment now.
"Shhh."
Something cool touched his mouth. In surprise, Jensen parted his lips and slurped at the ice greedily. It soothed his sore throat. "Where am I?"
"We're still on Kane's ship. Coming up on Meridian soon. Once there we'll transfer you to a UP ship I've been in contact with. They should have the medical facilities the Dina doesn't."
Her voice brought him back in time. Was it almost seven years ago now? Jensen's chest ached, but he couldn't move to rub it out. "Dani, what are you doing here?"
She let out a little sigh. "How do you think they were able to get to you? I've got contacts. People Kane only dreams of knowing."
Dani had done well for herself, then. Good. Jensen had worried, sometimes, that he wasn't doing her a favor by saving her life and dragging her away from the Confed.
"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to…"
"Oh stuff it, Jensen." He recognized that note of anger and it almost made him smile. "Of course I had to."
Her hand touched his arm, the sensation so surprising since everything felt so numb. They must have pumped him with painkillers. Jensen almost floated in the bed.
"I named him Jason," she said, so soft he almost didn't hear her.
"Who?" he started to ask, then fell silent. "You, you…"
"I wasn't lying back then. He is ours, somehow. He's got your eyes and my hair." She swallowed, so loud Jensen could hear. "So I couldn't just let you die. Even if I am still pissed at you."
Jensen closed it eyes. It didn't help to keep straining, to try to see her. He'd never see Dani again. "I'm sorry."
"Just live, Jensen, just live."
His own words from seven years ago, spit back at him. Jensen smiled. Yeah, that was his Dani.
Part 4