Fic: "Definitely not Shambhala (but it's good money)" 2/3, Lost/SPN
Part 1
Part 2:
Not only does Dean hate planes, but he sort of detests airports, too. The voices on the intercom make him nervous with their 'Attention, passengers...' and everything that reminds him that he's about to willingly get on a fucking plane. Again.
"Are you sure we REALLY have to do this?" He whines to Sam, clutching the strap of his carry-on with sweaty hands.
"Yes, Dean. It's the only way to go, you heard the Eloise." Sam replies, obviously trying hard to keep his calm and fanning himself with the plane tickets they just retrieved.
"Oh I don't know...maybe we could try and summon Castiel? He does instant travel and stuff, very convenient." Dean says, pretty proud of his idea.
Of course Sam has to be a killjoy.
"Yeah, like your buddy doesn't have more pressing matters, like, oh I don't know, finding the remaining renegade angels who almost caused the apocalypse. He'll certainly drop everything to be your personal travel agent." He says sarcastically. Dean pouts.
"We could try. He likes me, you know." Dean says with a hint of smugness that seems to piss Sam right off.
"Yeah. Right. Like you need to tempt him to fall even more, the poor sucker."
What the heck is Sam talking about?
"Castiel? Falling? Okay, so he got a bit high on the free will thing there in the end, but the guy's straight as an arrow. He wouldn't fall."
Sam just stares a bit before shaking his head in dismay.
"Wow, Dean, sometimes I wonder how we're related. You sometimes manage to be so blind."
‘Blind’ sounds way too much like 'stupid' coming from Sam's mouth. Before Dean can ask him to explain himself, because he has no idea where this conversation suddenly took a sharp left turn, Sam's got them right at the security check point.
Near the conveyor belt, Sam pulls the laptop out and into a plastic bin while Dean grumbles as he's taking his boots off, muttering about cryptic remarks and timely diversions. He hates security measures and their stupid Ziploc rules and...Sam hits him on the shoulder. Makes a sign to hurry it up.
Once through, near gate 15, Sam points towards a big guy reading a comic book.
"Look, that's definitely Hugo Reyes."
Sam starts walking toward him, and Dean follows dutifully until Sam sits down besides Reyes. Dean takes the second seat over, wondering how Sam's going to spin this. As Hugo looks up, Sam smiles at him.
"I should have brought something fun to read too." He says as an intro.
Hugo looks a bit tense but he shrugs.
"I could give it to you when I'm done, if you want. It's pretty cool."
Sam smiles again and Dean sees that Hugo is relaxing minutely.
"Thanks, I'd love to. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," he says with a little gesture, and Dean smiles with a small wave. "It's our first flight out of the states."
That's when Hugo realizes that Sam means the same flight as his and his eyes go round.
"Oh shit, you guys are on 316 too? No, trust me, you don't want that. Don't get on that plane." He starts rummaging in his bag, takes out a wallet. "Here, look, I'll pay for the next, okay? Just don't get on this one"
Sam avoids Hugo's hands and the cash that is being shoved at him by raising his hands and shaking his head.
"No, no. We can't, we have to be on this one."
Hugo looks around with worry and leans close to whisper.
"No, you don't get it! This one is going to crash!"
"Crash?" Dean says with a squeak. Bad, bad idea, this is a horrible idea. Sam puts a reassuring hand on his knee and tries to soothe Hugo.
"I know we're not going to Guam, it's okay. We're totally willing."
"Not to fucking crash!" Dean whispers furiously. "No one said anything about crashing!"
Hugo looks at them with narrowed eyes.
"How come you know we're not going to Guam? Who told you?"
As soon as Sam start to speak, "Ben..." Hugo stands up, so white it’s as if he's seen the devil.
"No no no no no." He's frantic and Dean gets why Hugo would feel at home in a mental institute. The guy's a big bag of neuroses. Sam grabs him by a wrist and stops Hugo from fleeing.
"Shh! It's okay. In fact, we don't trust Benjamin Linus even as far as we can throw him. We actually need some info on him. Can you help?"
Slowly, Hugo sits back.
"You want to know about Ben? All you need to know is that he's bad news. Stay as far as you can. Never do anything he tells you, he's an evil mastermind."
They had guessed about as much, and Dean doesn't feel reassured to hear it confirmed.
"Mind telling us how so?" Sam pleads and, well, since he takes out the earnest face, Hugo begrudgingly complies.
"Okay, fine. See, I was on Oceanic flight 815..." And to cut the story short, because they're going to board soon, Dean interrupts him.
"We know about the Island. Mind telling us what happened from then?"
Hugo's mouth makes a perfect little "O".
"You do?"
Sam nods.
"Not much more that you guys spent 4 months there. Where does Linus fit in?"
Hugo pauses, looks around, then starts in earnest.
"Yeah, well...At first it was just us, although Sawyer shot a polar bear, which, you know, freaky but not as much as the smoke monster."
"A polar bear?" Dean says, because what the fuck!
"So there's really a smoke monster?" Sam predictably asks.
"Oh yeah, it can fling trees from the ground and grab people and stuff. You don't want to meet that thing."
Dean grins.
"Actually, we kind of do. That's why we're going, to get rid of the...monster. We specialize in monsters."
"Really? Whoa. You guys are insane. There's a way to get rid of it?"
"There is, don't worry." Sam tries to reassure him. "So when does Ben enter the picture?"
"Okay, so see, Ben is one of the Others that were already living on the Island. Although Ben used to be with DHARMA, but he totally committed genocide to take over, with the Others. Really gross."
Genocide? We're talking serious shit here but Hugo makes a vague hand wave, as if that's not important as if genocide is not the worst thing Ben’s ever done. Dean's starting to feel a bit queasy.
"Ben got captured by the crazy French lady, and Sayid tortured him and stuff before he escaped when Michael killed Ana and Libby." Something flickers on his face, genuine sadness. "Anyhow, Michael was working for them see, to get off of the island with Walt.”
He goes on and on for several minutes, totally losing Dean right from the start. He eventually gets to a story about a cabin that moves in the woods.
"Is that where Jacob is?" Sam asks, and thank god his brother seems to be following this. Giant brains obviously come in handy sometimes.
"Yes! You know about Jacob too? That's crazy stuff, right there. He speaks to Locke now, not to Ben. Although now that Locke is dead...I have no idea."
"Ben used to talk with Jacob?" Dean wonders. Say what you want, that's surprising from someone who wants Jacob permanently taken care of, Dean thinks.
"I think so, I think Jacob was his boss, of him and the Others. But then he got kicked off the Island when Locke took over being the leader of the Others."
Sam looks at Dean: it's way clearer now. It looks like Ben is planning a coup. They need to talk about this, so Dean stands up and offers his hand to Hugo, who shakes it surprisingly strongly.
"Thanks Hugo, that was very helpful." Dean musters his most reassuring smile, with a wink. "We'll see what we can do about the smoke monster at least."
Hugo smiles back, as if he's inordinately pleased that someone listened to his story without automatically thinking he does belong in a mental institution.
"Cool dudes. And call me Hurley. Sam and Dean right?"
Sam stands up and they shake hands too.
"Yes, Sam'n'Dean." He says it particularly fondly, which makes Dean grin. But then he catches himself and pushes Sam sideways because it's a bit too mushy. "Later Hurley."
The go sit a couple of rows of seat further, near the side of the desk, where they can talk without too much of an audience.
"Okay, so Linus obviously only showed one side of the coin." Dean sigh.
"Did you expect anything different? Still, there's a demon over there, and it's killing people." Sam and the demons, always the frigging demons.
"I know, Sam. But, fuck. A plane crash? I don't think I can go through with this." It's one thing to have a phobia, another to purposely put himself in a situation that has a high probability of resulting in an actual plane crash.
"I'm sure it's going to be fine." Then Sam's eyes widen. "Check this out!" He whispers.
Sayid Jarrah, hands under a jacket in a way that pretty much screams he's handcuffed, is being brought towards their gate by a tall woman with dark hair. Not far behind, Jack and Sun follow, looking totally shocked at the sight of their friend being under custody, and then Dean spots Kate Austen hanging out on the sides.
"Well, that makes five out of six; at least Austen had better sense than to bring a kid along." Dean declares.
The woman at the counter starts talking and her amplified voice ricochets against the walls.
This is the preliminary boarding announcement for Ajira Airways Flight 316, with service to Honolulu and Guam, departing from Gate 15. For those of you on the standby list, we'll have plenty of seats available.
That's when Hurley quickly gets up and rushes over to her counter.
We would like to invite our pre-board, first class and SkyClub passengers to board the aircraft at this time.
Dean's close enough to hear Hurley argue with the woman.
"What do you mean "standby"? There's no standbys."
"Oh, no, sir. You don't need to worry. There are..." she calmly announces, looking at her computer, "78 seats open."
Hurley protests.
"No. I bought those seats, all 78 of 'em. I'm Hugo Reyes. They're not open. They're mine. Check and see."
The woman types and then frowns.
"Yes, I see that. Sir, these people just want to get to their destination. Why would you not want them to be able to travel?"
"You know, it doesn't matter why. They can take the next plane."
Jack is now near the counter, and he greets Hugo, looking very pleased as other people start to board.
"Hurley. What are you doing here? How did you know about the..." Jack starts to ask, but Hurley interrupts him.
"All that matters is that I'm here, right?"
Jack chuckles again.
"Well... I'm glad that you're here, man."
There is a long pause and Hurley sighs.
"Okay, then. Let's do this. After you."
Sam gets up and reluctantly Dean does the same, before following Jack. He can't quite muster a smile when the attendant starts her speech.
"Welcome to Ajira Air." She takes his ticket. "Thank you, sir. Row 10, on your left."
Once inside the plane and close on Jack's heels, Dean sees meaningful glances between Jack and Sayid until the Iraqi looks at the woman next to him and frowns, avoiding Jack's eyes. Sun is not far, turning that gold ring on her finger again. Dean's progression toward his row is stopped when Jack stops to talk to Kate.
"You made it."
She takes off her sunglasses before answering him. She's really pretty up close.
"Yeah, I made it."
Finally Jack gets to his seat and Dean reaches his own just behind; Sam squeezes himself to fold into the seat beside him. Dean hates this job already, so much. He buckles his belt and checks if he has a paper bag (not because he feels sick, but just in case he might hyperventilate). Dean's distracted from his woes when Hurley enters, carrying a guitar case in front of him, but just after the flight attendant speaks up.
"That should be everybody."
Before she manages to close the door, here come Ben, looking badly beaten up, with an arm in a sling.
"Hold up! Wait, please! Thank you for not closing it." He pants, and he probably ran to get to the plane in time.
"Oh, that's okay. Go right on in." The flight attendant says with a smile.
"Thanks."
Hurley jumps up and cries out.
"Wait! What's he doing here?!"
Jack gets up and tries to calm him.
"Hurley, hey--"
But obviously Ben's way scarier for Hurley than a possible plane crash.
"No, no! He can't come!"
Jack again:
"If you want to get back, this is how it's gonna have to be."
Indignant, Hurley protests some more.
"No one told me he was gonna be here."
This time it's Ben who speaks up.
"Who told you to be here, Hugo?"
The flight attendant looks worried. Must suck to have difficult customers when you're to be stuck with them for fourteen hours in a flying metal tube.
"Is everything okay?" She asks.
Smiling, Jack answers her, throwing a meaningful glance at Hurley in the process.
"Yes. Yes, everything's fine. Right?"
Begrudgingly, Hurley finally settles.
"Yes, Jack. I'll be fine."
While the flight attendant has a couple of words with Jack, Ben reaches his seat and nods at them in salutation. Sam nods back, but they don't exchange a word. Jack comes back to his seat with an envelope, looking as he's been punched.
"What's that, Jack?" Ben asks, and Dean could bet he already knows.
"Nothing." Says Jack, before looking back at the people in coach. "And the other people on this plane - what's gonna happen to them?"
Ben is flippant.
"Who cares?"
And that, said so casually, makes a shiver go down Dean's spine. He's seen evil in many forms, and there is no doubt that little man has it in spades. Just a look at Sam's thunderous face tells Dean his brother thinks the same, and that probably accepting a contract from this guy is one of the worst ideas they've ever had.
Right now, that's not Dean's most pressing problem though since the jet engines start to whir, then roar as the plane moves down the runway.
"We're gonna die, Sam. Mark my words. I'm so kicking your ass in the afterlife for this."
Sam scoffs, and fishes out his douchy iPod from his pocket and passes it over.
"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Relax Dean, I even made you a playlist."
Snatching it, Dean puts the buds in his ears.
"What are you, fourteen?"
Dean does find a new playlist named "For Dean's pussy freak-out". Hovering between indignation and gratitude, he finally gives in and selects it because it does include most of his favorites. Sam thumbs nonchalantly through the in-flight magazine, trying badly to hide his victorious smirk.
***
It's been hours now, and if it hasn't been great, so far the trip has not been so bad either. With the music drowning out most of what goes on around him and keeping his eyes shut, Dean tries to visualize himself dozing while shotgun in his baby. But all of his acquired Zen is shot to hell when the lights flicker and there's some turbulence. It stops for a moment, then starts more violently. With an ominous ping, the 'Fasten Seat Belts' sign comes back on.
"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Dean hisses through his teeth, grabbing Sam's wrist on the armrest next to him. The flight attendant is walking up the aisle, and Dean has to do a conscious effort to unclench his fingers and grab his own thigh instead. No way this chick will see him clinging to his baby brother.
"Fasten your seat belt, ma'am. Sir? Please put on your seat belt. Seat belt, please."
Dean checks his own, even if he never unbuckled it because he's not insane, then checks out Sam's, he's got to make sure that he's got it on properly. Sam grabs his wrists, gently but firmly pushes him away until Dean sits straight in his seat again.
"Shhh -Dean. Dean. It's okay..."
But just as he says that, the plane starts to shake more violently and the lights flicker while objects start falling out of the overhead compartments. Dean has a disjointed thought about how a pissed off ghost wouldn't do worse when a bright light starts shining and there is a very weird and totally not normal buzzing sound getting louder and louder. The flight attendant is thrown from one side of the cabin to the other as the light and noise grow more intense, until suddenly there is nothing but white.
***
Then all is green, with flicks of blue. It takes about ten seconds of heavy breathing, with Ozzy still blaring in his ears before Dean realizes he's lying on his back in the middle of a jungle and that what he sees are tree branches overhead.
"Sam?"
The shout is out of his mouth before he's even clear headed enough to think. Dean moves his feet experimentally and when there's not even a twinge of pain, he pats himself up, finding no injuries at all. There's only jungle noise around him though, no Sam in sight.
"Sam!"
He bellows again, a million images of the horrible things that could have happened to Sam flashing in his head. He's got to find him, and now. As Dean staggers to his feet, a bit unsteady - he just survived a plane crash or something, it's perfectly normal - an overload of sensation hits him. It's overwhelmingly green all around, a bit hot and way too humid for his taste. He made it, though, he's on the frigging Island. The problem is that he only has Sam's iPod and the clothes on his back: no gun, no knife, no salt, no nothing. Least of all his goddamn flame-thrower.
He's been walking around shouting "Sam!" for a couple of minutes when there is some rustling in the undergrowth.
"Sam?"
But it's Jarrah, the Iraqi, who comes out and looks him over.
"Hey. Good, I was worried I was the only one from the plane who..." Dean tries to say as friendly as he can but he's interrupted.
"Shh. You are attracting way too much attention toward yourself."
Dean frowns.
"We can't be the only two that made it! I need to find my brother. Tall guy, stupid hair, you wouldn't have seen him around by any chance?"
Sayid shakes his head.
"I am sorry, no. I have seen no one but you."
He shifts and Dean's eyes are drawn to his bound hands, which makes Sayid step back, looking suddenly defensive. Dean's read his file, and he knows the guy is way more dangerous than a first glance would show. Short but compact, he's got special forces training in the Republican Guard and he carries himself with the easy grace of a fighter. Those last pictures in the file in the yellow Build Our World t-shirt don't fool him; Dean doesn't want a guy like that as an enemy if he can help it.
"Well hi, I'm Dean, and this was my first plane crash."
The corner of Sayid's mouth almost twitches up, but he doesn't relax much.
"Nice to meet you, Dean. I am Sayid Jarrah and if I count a helicopter at sea, it now makes three times for me. Most unfortunately."
He knew about Flight 815, but three? Dean whistles, impressed.
"Dude. I'd avoid any air traveling if I was you. Something I do myself, by the way. I shouldn't have broken my own rule."
This time, there's a definite humorous glint in Sayid's eye as he replies.
"I did not have much choice in the matter, this time."
Dean likes that, how Sayid doesn't pussy around the fact he was a prisoner. He wonders what happened to the lady cop, though, and if she's not lying around somewhere with her neck broken. Trying to remain casual, Dean asks.
"You lost your shadow?"
Sayid stares at him unflinchingly.
"I was alone, I have no idea where she is. As I said, I have seen no one but you." A pause. "I did not kill her."
Dean raises his hands in a peace gesture.
"I didn't want to imply that. It's..." He hesitates but tries something. "Well I've had shadows before. They were doing their job, even if totally mistaken about me. Never had to kill one to get away."
It does pique Sayid's curiosity, but Dean sees how he's starting to itch to go on his way by the way he darts looks around.
"The reasons she had were valid. I strongly suggest you stop shouting for your brother. You might bring unwanted attention on yourself. I have to go now. Good luck, Dean."
"Whose attention?" Dean asks, but Sayid's already starting to walk away. Cursing under his breath as he walks towards Sayid, Dean decides to play one of his aces. "The smoke monster?" Effectively, that gets Sayid to twirl towards him again, shocked. "Or the Others?"
By now they're only five feet apart from each other and Sayid surprises Dean by suddenly tackling him to the ground, trying put his bound arms around Dean's neck while pinning him with strong legs. But two mobile hands are a clear advantage and Dean's been trained for close combat, which Sayid doesn't suspect. He's able to use that element of surprise to avoid the choke and after a vigorous tussle, Dean manages to pin Sayid face down, arms under him, legs along his body and suddenly very still. Panting, Dean stays braced because he knows Sayid will feel any minute relaxing on his part and try to get out.
"Whoa, why did you do that, man? I'm no threat."
"Or so you say." Sayid growls.
"Look, Hurley told my brother and I about the monster and the Others, okay?"
Because if there's one thing that Dean did get loud and clear from Hurley's story, it's that none of the Oceanic Six like Benjamin Linus and saying he works for the guy would not get him sympathy points. It seems a good choice because the nature of Sayid's stillness goes down a couple of notches in the 'I waiting for my chance to fuck you up' department.
"Hurley."
"Yeah, at the airport. But I believed him, I've seen way stranger shit." And is that the understatement of the century, Dean thinks.
Sayid sort of laughs.
"You believed him?"
And…well Sayid has a point there. Maybe Sam and him could have gone to a better source for info on the Island and Ben. But there were the pictures.
"Yes, I believed him. I've seen hundreds of those smoke monsters in my life, I swear. I get rid of them for a living, for Christ's sake."
This time Sayid twists his head around until he's able to raise a very disbelieving eyebrow at Dean, but he doesn't say anything. Dean smiles.
"Catchy, ain't it? But it's true. It's a demon, and we're going to exorcise it back to Hell."
If possible, Sayid's eyebrow raises even more towards his hairline.
"I believe you have lost your mind. Probably a result of the crash."
Dean laughs but suddenly Sayid tries to buck him off, which he avoids by a hair.
"Hey, hey, that's not nice, we were having a good conversation here." Dean sighs dramatically for effect.
"I would prefer if it was not while I am face down on the jungle floor." Sayid replies, obviously frustrated that his attempt failed.
"Hey, that's all your doing, buddy, trying to get the jump on me. Not a good idea, by the way."
"I noticed. It was ill advised but you took me by surprise. I thought you were an Other."
"That's what I thought." Dean's not going to find Sam while pinning a guy he barely knows to the ground though, so they have to get out of this stalemate. "If I let you go, you promise you won't try anything stupid?"
"Yes."
To prove his good will, Sayid goes limp under him, and Dean hurries to get up and step back, to have room to maneuver in case Sayid tries something again. But the other man just slowly turns on his back and gets up to his feet gracefully in spite of his bound hands, always staying face toward Dean.
"Thank you. I am sorry I attacked you."
Dean waves dismissively and upon impulse gestures all around them at the Island and the jungle in general, making sure that for a moment he gives his vulnerable back to Sayid as a show of trust.
"Hey, extenuating circumstances. No biggie."
Face to face with Sayid again, Dean knows that Sayid got the message and the intent. He's practically smiling.
"You are a strange man, Dean."
Dean grins.
"But fascinating, I know. You would not believe how often I hear it."
When Sayid rolls his eyes slightly, it's like a punch to the gut bringing back the important stuff and Dean frowns, looking around again.
"I really need to find my brother. See, lately he's got this gift to end up in the middle of trouble all the fucking time."
"Obviously." When Dean looks over at Sayid, who's dusting twigs and earth off his clothes, Sayid shrugs. "Well he is somewhere on the Island. That qualifies."
"I'm beginning to think so." Dean says with a sigh. He nods to Sayid's hands with his chin. "Want me to check if I can get those off?"
This time, Sayid looks genuinely surprised, nods, and stays in place when Dean approaches him. He does his best to look nonchalant, but Dean half expects Sayid to try to strangle him again.
"Perhaps you have a knife?" Sayid asks.
Dean has to shake his head regretfully.
"Nah, damn airport security." They’re heavy-duty tie-wraps and Dean winces. Simple, but highly effective, a bitch to get off with nothing sharp. "Shit. Would you know where we could find something..."
"Thank you anyway. I will manage by myself."
Groaning, Dean throws his head back.
"Okay, look, I don't like to impose myself, but I have no idea where I am or where to look for Sam. Plus, it would be safer, especially for you. I heard about polar bears?"
Sayid chuckles at that.
"You really did talk to Hurley. Very well, but if at one point I want to go on my own, you do not follow me."
"Got it." Dean says rapidly. No negotiating on his part.
"I think I know where we are situated. We need to go east."
Dean turns to his right, wondering how it's any different from anywhere else because there's definitely no discernible point of reference in sight. When he looks back at Sayid questioningly, the man is smiling faintly and Dean realizes he just passed a test.
"You might be useful after all." He declares, before walking past Dean and rapidly getting swallowed by the jungle while going straight east. Dean hurries after him before he disappears.
***
Dean cursing and trying to tromp through the foliage and being just about to call to Sayid to wait the fuck up when-
"Stop right there!"
Obviously Sayid's been spotted, but Dean falls flat on the ground, hoping he was not. He can barely see through the foliage, but the man with the rifle, wearing a tan jumpsuit, does a double take.
"Sayid?"
After a moment of confusion, Dean hears Sayid question back.
"Jin?"
And look at that, it does seem like Jin Kwon.
"Where's Sun?" Is the first thing Jin asks.
"I don't know." Sayid says regretfully. Before the two men have time to say more, there are some footsteps and voices approaching, and Jin cocks his rifle, points at Sayid and barks.
"Shut up! Get down! Say another word, and you're dead."
Sayid does as he's told and totally helpless, Dean can only watch as the other men join Jin and then drag Sayid away. He wasn't caught, but Dean curses: there goes his personal, even if reluctant, guide.
Carefully, Dean follows them at a distance. He’s hiding at the edge of the jungle, weighing his options, a careful eye trained on the house where they’ve taken Sayid, when a blue and white Volkswagen van rambles up. Jin emerges from the building immediately, exchanges a few urgent words with the tall blond guy who’d been behind the wheel, and they disappear back inside together.
After a couple of minutes the blond man comes right out, taking Sayid with him, Jin and some other guy tagging along. It's only upon seeing the man scowl in annoyance before getting in the van that Dean recognizes him to be James "Sawyer" Ford. Now Dean remembers where he saw those stupid uniforms before: the DHARMA Initiative.
Figuring his best chance to get to Sam is to follow to where they take any prisoners, Dean starts to follow the path the van took.
***
When Dean hears a rifle being cocked, he knows that he's not been careful enough covering his tracks. He had hoped that the cameras in the clearing earlier were just for show, but no, of course not.
In a day of weirdness, that sort of fence-without-a-fence had still seemed threatening, making Dean wait by the edge of the jungle for a long time. In the end, Dean had resolved to climb over it using a log, because no one guarded a non-fence with cameras if said non-fence did nothing. Better safe than sorry.
The voice of the guy who has cocked the rifle is urgent and hostile.
"Stop right there, hoss."
"Crap." Dean mutters. He wonders about his odds of getting out if he just runs for it and hopes for the best.
"I said stop. You deaf? Put your hands where I can see ‘em." Clearly, his new friend is not happy.
Slowly, Dean puts his hands up on each side of his shoulders. He tries to sound as calm as possible.
"Easy there, we don't want anyone to get hurt."
"Exactly. Turn around slowly and don't do anything stupid." Replies the man, and Dean decides to comply. So long for his plan to bust Sam out and save the day.
"Okay, okay, I'm turning, there. See? No need for guns."
To be sure not to excite the man if he's trigger happy, Dean moves slowly and carefully. Turns out it's Sawyer, and he's definitely pissed off.
"Let me be the judge of this, pretty boy. Truce says you stay the fuck away, give me one reason not to shoot you."
Dean has no idea what the man is talking about.
"Truce? What? Look, I'm just looking for my brother. As soon as I find him, we'll get out of your hair."
That pun might be intended - the man looked better when his hair was a tad shorter like in his file. On the heels of that though, Dean wonders since when he thinks about proper hair length while in the line of fire. Clearly, he's become blasé in the face of danger.
"Your brother?" Sawyer is definitely surprised. "Son of a bitch. You're Dean?"
And if that ain't a huge relief. If James knows he must be Dean, it's because somewhere someone talked about him. He just hopes it's not Sam while being interrogated though.
"Yes! You've seen Sam? Is he okay?"
The way Sawyer's gun goes down and away tells Dean immediately that he's not really considered a threat. His suspicions are confirmed when Sawyer speaks next, now looking merely annoyed.
"He's fine, he's with Jack and all, we could pass them as new recruits." That's even better news that Dean had hoped, and he lets his shoulders sag in relief. Sawyer, on the other hand, looks more stressed than a minute ago. "Fuck. How the hell am I going to...Jesus Christ, this is so not my week." There is shouting and ruffling once more in the jungle so Sawyer speaks low and fast. "When my men get here, I'll treat you like a prisoner, you have to go along. Understand?"
His men? If they're on the same side, a.k.a. not the bad guys, Dean wonders why he can't just walk away right now so they pretend this little encounter never happened.
"Why wo-"
Dean doesn't even have time to voice the question properly. Sawyer's aiming the rifle back at his head again.
"Shut up and do as I say." He growls.
It's obvious the man knows how to use his gun just by the confident way he holds it. Change of plan, then, and Dean will have to put some trust in this guy, at least for now.
"Geez, okay, okay." Dean can't help himself and adds: "Although I got to say that your jumpsuit undermines your authority just a tad."
A little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Sam warns him that he should not piss off the guy with the gun. Effectively, Sawyer walks around to be at his back and pokes him briefly in the back with the nuzzle.
"Fuck you. Put your hands behind your head and start walking." After a couple of steps, Sawyer bellows. "I got him! Over here!"
***
The cuffs cinch uncomfortably tight around his wrists as he collides with the seat, shoulder hitting the unforgiving side of the bus and head thudding against the thick window. Struggling to sit upright, Dean finds himself faced with the four enraged but terrified DHARMA members, with a bonus of one Miles Straume looking at him suspiciously.
When the bus stops in the middle of a surprisingly suburban village, Dean is unceremoniously dragged out of the van and almost trips. There are maybe ten or fifteen people around, and both men and women look totally on edge and watch him with matching expressions of hostility. It's just before he's pushed inside one of the houses that Dean sees Hurley in a nearby door frame and Sam coming up beside him, dressed in one of those stupid DHARMA uniforms. It barely fits him.
Upon seeing Dean, Sam does his ridiculous woobie face of relief, before frowning when he takes in the fact that he's a prisoner. Dean can't help it and grins, reassured to see Sam well as promised. He's rewarded with the butt of Sawyer's - no, it's LaFleur now - rifle in the kidneys.
"Eyes forward."
It's true that he's not helping Sam's cover here, so Dean does as he's told, and that's how a minute later he ends up in the same cell as Sayid. Sayid's tie wraps have been cut, but no one seems in a hurry to take off Dean's own handcuffs.
"We'll be right back. Don't get too comfortable with your buddy here." Sawyer barks before closing the cell door and storming out.
The first thing Dean has noticed is the camera blinking red, recording everything they do. It's quite obvious that the DHARMA people are at war with someone else on the Island, and maybe if he plays his cards right, Dean can at least do something for Sayid even if he's screwed. So before Sayid says anything, he barrels into him and pushes him against the wall.
"See, it was totally stupid of you to run away, we'll always find you."
Sayid blinks and freezes.
"What are you doing?"
Under his breath, Dean mutters.
"Trying to help here, camera!"
Sayid smirks, and then pushes him back forcefully, so Dean staggers to the other side of the cell.
"No sound. And what are you trying to do, exactly?"
His back to the camera, Dean rolls his eyes.
"You're not stupid, Sayid. You had your hands bound, so you say you were trying to defect and join the hippie fest. I'll tell them I was supposed to find and kill you before you did."
"And that paints a target right on your forehead. No."
Dean curses, annoyed.
"Fuck, and why do you care! It's a way out, your friends will help you."
"More importantly, why do you care?" Counters Sayid, and for some unknown reason he seems incredibly pissed. Dean has no idea why Sayid balked so much at getting a bit of help, but he's not going to argue with a brick wall. Throwing his hands in the hair, Dean gives up.
"Fine!" He shouts. "You're on your own. Jesus."
Dean sits down with his back to the far wall of the cell, and they stay in a tense silence until the door opens. It's not the official welcoming committee though, but a janitor pushing in his bucket. He looks at both Sayid and Dean with contempt. ’Roger, Workman’ is emblazoned on the lapel of his jumpsuit.
"You know what I can't figure out? Is how the hell you got caught. You hostiles are supposed to be the kings of the jungle. And how dumb are you that you got captured by these idiots?" He sneers as he cleans the floor.
Sayid laughs.
"And yet you're the one who mops up after them." He replies and Dean sniggers. Good one. Roger doesn't like it at all.
"Yeah, well... We'll see how cute you are once Oldham gets done with you, pal."
The mop clatters and that's when they all notice a kid in the doorway.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Roger demands briskly.
The boy inhales sharply and looks terrified.
"I was bringing you a sandwich." He says to Roger, showing a plate. Dean's stomach gargles at the sight. He'd love a sandwich.
"A sandwich?" Roger scoffs. "You never made me a sandwich in your life."
The kid, who has huge blue eyes behind his round glasses, stammers.
"Yeah, well...I-I made one for myself..."
"Uh-huh." Roger says derisively.
"So...So I just thought that I'd bring you-"
"Oh, yeah? You just..." Roger goes towards the kid who gasps, afraid.
"Dad, don't!"
Roger now sounds menacing and Dean gets up and goes to the bars, gripping them. It's just not right, treating your kid like that. The boy was just bringing a sandwich, for God's sake.
"Don't you lie to me. What are you doin' down here?" Roger shouts, and hits his son, who gasps and cries.
"Hey!" Dean protests but Rodger is too enraged to take notice. He's menacing the kid again.
"You made this sandwich for them, didn't you? Hmm?"
The kid's voice breaks.
"Yes."
"Who told you to do that?"
"Nobody." Says the boy.
Rodger whispers, low and menacing but loud enough for Dean to hear.
"Nobody?"
"I just thought that-"
"You 'just thought,' huh? Go home." The kid cries and his father pushes him towards the door. "Go on. I'll tell you what to think."
The dish breaks as it hits the floor and the tray clatters down right after. Sayid and Dean are left alone in the room when the door slams back shut, father and son gone. Dean's so riled up that he's gripping the bars with white knuckles.
"That's just nasty. Poor kid."
Sayid scoffs derisively and Dean turns to look at him with disbelief. How can he be laughing?
"Do you know who that kid is?" Sayid asks.
Of course Dean doesn't.
"No."
Sayid has a sly little smile that looks a bit manic around the edges.
"Benjamin Linus."
For a second, there, it does not compute.
"What the hell do you mean, it’s Ben-"
"Dean…it is 1977." Sayid says, pointedly.
Dean gapes, but then it makes some sort of sick sense, with the DHARMA Van looking pristine, the dated firearms and the horrible hair he witnessed in the camp.
"Are you sure?"
A nod.
"You got to be shitting me." Dean exclaims and Sayid just shakes his head no. Dean goes back to sit against the wall, hitting his head back on the concrete. "Crap. I already did my back to the future trip, and I really didn't like it the first time around."
Sawyer and four other DHARMA members enter the jail. Unlocking the cell door, Sawyer opens it and approaches Sayid.
"All right, last chance. You got anything to say?"
Sayid does not reply. Sawyer sighs and then abruptly tasers him. Sayid drops to the floor. Probably seeing Dean's instinctual urge to come and help, Sawyer then turns to Dean, showing the taser.
"We'll be right back for you. Don't make it harder for yourself." He then addresses his men, sighs again and nods to Sayid. "Take him to Oldham."
The DHARMA guys enter the cell, handcuff Sayid and bring him God knows where to do whatever that Oldham guy specializes in. Without thinking too hard, Dean has a little idea what that must be.
***
Two hours later, Dean finds out for himself, no need to guess.
He tumbles out of the van, pulled harshly by Sawyer’s goons. If Sawyer had seemed ready to help earlier, he’s stone faced now. Bluesy music scratches out from a genuine phonograph set up near a ragged tent, sounding tinny and strange in Dean’s ears.
The little man in front of him looks up, squints. There’s an unhinged gleam in his eyes behind his thick glasses and Dean thinks back to Sayid, crumpled on the cell floor, limp and smiling a bit too much, and he knows he’s in trouble.
"Maybe we should use more... hmm... old fashioned methods on this one. I wonder if my stuff didn't turn."
Sawyer frowns, then protests.
"Just give him less, Oldham, no need to get nasty. We're not savages."
Oldham has a little half smile.
"Don't worry, I won't have to do much. Put him in the restraints."
While the guards are undoing Dean's handcuffs and tie him up to a tree, Dean can see Sawyer arguing with a man in glasses and wavy long hair out of the corner of his eye. Sawyer's definitely not winning his point though, and he stops after a while, crossing his arms. Oldham stands in front of Dean, who by reflex stands tall, shoulders squared and feet placed apart for balance.
"Hey. I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you cooperate, this won't take long and won't be too painful. Do you understand?" Oldham asks.
"It's perfectly clear." Dean says with a smile.
"What's your name?"
"My name's Dean, but that's all you'll get from me." Name, date of birth, rank and service number: that's all a Prisoner of War has to say. Dean's pretty sure the date of birth would not go so well right now, anyway.
"We'll see about that." Oldham sniggers, looking kind of pleased to have a difficult customer. "Why did you breach the perimeter?"
Dean just stares at Oldham, keeps his mouth shut. From now on, he's not going to say a single other word. Oldham shakes his head.
"Tsk tsk tsk, Dean, this isn't starting as I would have wished." A pause, then pointedly. "Again, why did you breach the perimeter?"
Since Dean just stares some more, Oldham punches him hard in the liver, enough to take Dean's breath away. As fast as he can stand it, Dean throws his shoulders back and smirks at Oldham, conveying the best he can that he think the loony hits like a girl, although it was a very hard blow. Predictably, it enrages the little man.
"Is that how you want to play it, Dean? You really want to laugh at me in my face?"
Dean widens his grin, even if he knows it's asking for trouble. Oldham flushes red in anger and goes to a table on the side to get some wooden splinters, probably made of bamboo.
"We'll see how you like this, then. Tell us why you breached the perimeter. Were you with Sayid or after him?"
When Dean doesn't answer, Oldham grips his right hand and slips a splinter below Dean's nail on the middle finger. It hurts, a lot, but in the thirty years of torture Dean's suffered through down in Hell, one thing he got good at was how not to cry out and look as impassive as he could. Dean clenches his jaw and just stares ahead. Seeing no results, Oldham puts another splinter on the next finger, and Dean focuses that he's just glad it's not his index. Another burst of pain, but it's like tickling compared to the tortures Alastair put upon his soul. Oldham is still questioning him, getting frantic, but Dean's not listening anyway, and that owes him a new splinter in the left hand.
Sawyer is looking at what is going on with horror, and Dean sees him absentmindedly rubbing his own nails on his thigh. The wavy haired guy looks uncomfortable, but it's the security guys who look the more nervous. Dean gives them a snarling smile and from then they are not even able to sustain eye contact, visibly scared. It's just when he realizes that Oldham is not talking to him but to Sawyer and wavy haired guy that Dean pays attention.
"Don't worry, I'll get to him." Oldham tries to reassure.
The next splinter is driven under Dean's nail so hard that it's ripped right off. Dean clenches his jaw thigh as his throat goes dry, but he doesn't even grunt. Sawyer explodes.
"Jesus Christ! You'll get nowhere with this guy! Anyone would have at least have cried out by now!" He turns to curly hair. "C'mon, Horace, stop this."
Horace does look a little pale.
"He seems to have specialized POW training. I'll have to amp it up a bit." Oldham admits reluctantly, going towards his work bench and taking a pair of sharp cutters. Here goes a couple of fingers, Dean thinks with an interior sigh. Horace is fidgeting and Dean stares at him, tilting his chin up. Let that be on his conscience when he goes to bed tonight. When Oldham approaches Dean with much glee and reaches for his hand, Horace finally shouts out.
"No! Stop!"
Oldham almost pouts.
"I'm sure it's going to make him talk, it'll show him we're serious."
"I said no, Oldham! Whatever he says, it's not going to change much anyway. The hostiles clearly breached the perimeter, that's all we need to know. LaFleur, bring him back to the cell, and then come to my house. I'll call a meeting."
"Yes sir." Sawyer nods, and when he gets to Dean he glares at Oldham, snatching the keys for the restraint. "You're a sick fuck, Oldham, you enjoy this way too much."
Oldham has a tight smile.
"I don't like you either, LaFleur. Now take your trash with ya and everyone leaves." He shoots a look at Horace. "Come back only if you're serious, or I won't waste my time. Got it?"
With that he disappears into his tent.
***
( part 3)
Part 2:
Not only does Dean hate planes, but he sort of detests airports, too. The voices on the intercom make him nervous with their 'Attention, passengers...' and everything that reminds him that he's about to willingly get on a fucking plane. Again.
"Are you sure we REALLY have to do this?" He whines to Sam, clutching the strap of his carry-on with sweaty hands.
"Yes, Dean. It's the only way to go, you heard the Eloise." Sam replies, obviously trying hard to keep his calm and fanning himself with the plane tickets they just retrieved.
"Oh I don't know...maybe we could try and summon Castiel? He does instant travel and stuff, very convenient." Dean says, pretty proud of his idea.
Of course Sam has to be a killjoy.
"Yeah, like your buddy doesn't have more pressing matters, like, oh I don't know, finding the remaining renegade angels who almost caused the apocalypse. He'll certainly drop everything to be your personal travel agent." He says sarcastically. Dean pouts.
"We could try. He likes me, you know." Dean says with a hint of smugness that seems to piss Sam right off.
"Yeah. Right. Like you need to tempt him to fall even more, the poor sucker."
What the heck is Sam talking about?
"Castiel? Falling? Okay, so he got a bit high on the free will thing there in the end, but the guy's straight as an arrow. He wouldn't fall."
Sam just stares a bit before shaking his head in dismay.
"Wow, Dean, sometimes I wonder how we're related. You sometimes manage to be so blind."
‘Blind’ sounds way too much like 'stupid' coming from Sam's mouth. Before Dean can ask him to explain himself, because he has no idea where this conversation suddenly took a sharp left turn, Sam's got them right at the security check point.
Near the conveyor belt, Sam pulls the laptop out and into a plastic bin while Dean grumbles as he's taking his boots off, muttering about cryptic remarks and timely diversions. He hates security measures and their stupid Ziploc rules and...Sam hits him on the shoulder. Makes a sign to hurry it up.
Once through, near gate 15, Sam points towards a big guy reading a comic book.
"Look, that's definitely Hugo Reyes."
Sam starts walking toward him, and Dean follows dutifully until Sam sits down besides Reyes. Dean takes the second seat over, wondering how Sam's going to spin this. As Hugo looks up, Sam smiles at him.
"I should have brought something fun to read too." He says as an intro.
Hugo looks a bit tense but he shrugs.
"I could give it to you when I'm done, if you want. It's pretty cool."
Sam smiles again and Dean sees that Hugo is relaxing minutely.
"Thanks, I'd love to. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," he says with a little gesture, and Dean smiles with a small wave. "It's our first flight out of the states."
That's when Hugo realizes that Sam means the same flight as his and his eyes go round.
"Oh shit, you guys are on 316 too? No, trust me, you don't want that. Don't get on that plane." He starts rummaging in his bag, takes out a wallet. "Here, look, I'll pay for the next, okay? Just don't get on this one"
Sam avoids Hugo's hands and the cash that is being shoved at him by raising his hands and shaking his head.
"No, no. We can't, we have to be on this one."
Hugo looks around with worry and leans close to whisper.
"No, you don't get it! This one is going to crash!"
"Crash?" Dean says with a squeak. Bad, bad idea, this is a horrible idea. Sam puts a reassuring hand on his knee and tries to soothe Hugo.
"I know we're not going to Guam, it's okay. We're totally willing."
"Not to fucking crash!" Dean whispers furiously. "No one said anything about crashing!"
Hugo looks at them with narrowed eyes.
"How come you know we're not going to Guam? Who told you?"
As soon as Sam start to speak, "Ben..." Hugo stands up, so white it’s as if he's seen the devil.
"No no no no no." He's frantic and Dean gets why Hugo would feel at home in a mental institute. The guy's a big bag of neuroses. Sam grabs him by a wrist and stops Hugo from fleeing.
"Shh! It's okay. In fact, we don't trust Benjamin Linus even as far as we can throw him. We actually need some info on him. Can you help?"
Slowly, Hugo sits back.
"You want to know about Ben? All you need to know is that he's bad news. Stay as far as you can. Never do anything he tells you, he's an evil mastermind."
They had guessed about as much, and Dean doesn't feel reassured to hear it confirmed.
"Mind telling us how so?" Sam pleads and, well, since he takes out the earnest face, Hugo begrudgingly complies.
"Okay, fine. See, I was on Oceanic flight 815..." And to cut the story short, because they're going to board soon, Dean interrupts him.
"We know about the Island. Mind telling us what happened from then?"
Hugo's mouth makes a perfect little "O".
"You do?"
Sam nods.
"Not much more that you guys spent 4 months there. Where does Linus fit in?"
Hugo pauses, looks around, then starts in earnest.
"Yeah, well...At first it was just us, although Sawyer shot a polar bear, which, you know, freaky but not as much as the smoke monster."
"A polar bear?" Dean says, because what the fuck!
"So there's really a smoke monster?" Sam predictably asks.
"Oh yeah, it can fling trees from the ground and grab people and stuff. You don't want to meet that thing."
Dean grins.
"Actually, we kind of do. That's why we're going, to get rid of the...monster. We specialize in monsters."
"Really? Whoa. You guys are insane. There's a way to get rid of it?"
"There is, don't worry." Sam tries to reassure him. "So when does Ben enter the picture?"
"Okay, so see, Ben is one of the Others that were already living on the Island. Although Ben used to be with DHARMA, but he totally committed genocide to take over, with the Others. Really gross."
Genocide? We're talking serious shit here but Hugo makes a vague hand wave, as if that's not important as if genocide is not the worst thing Ben’s ever done. Dean's starting to feel a bit queasy.
"Ben got captured by the crazy French lady, and Sayid tortured him and stuff before he escaped when Michael killed Ana and Libby." Something flickers on his face, genuine sadness. "Anyhow, Michael was working for them see, to get off of the island with Walt.”
He goes on and on for several minutes, totally losing Dean right from the start. He eventually gets to a story about a cabin that moves in the woods.
"Is that where Jacob is?" Sam asks, and thank god his brother seems to be following this. Giant brains obviously come in handy sometimes.
"Yes! You know about Jacob too? That's crazy stuff, right there. He speaks to Locke now, not to Ben. Although now that Locke is dead...I have no idea."
"Ben used to talk with Jacob?" Dean wonders. Say what you want, that's surprising from someone who wants Jacob permanently taken care of, Dean thinks.
"I think so, I think Jacob was his boss, of him and the Others. But then he got kicked off the Island when Locke took over being the leader of the Others."
Sam looks at Dean: it's way clearer now. It looks like Ben is planning a coup. They need to talk about this, so Dean stands up and offers his hand to Hugo, who shakes it surprisingly strongly.
"Thanks Hugo, that was very helpful." Dean musters his most reassuring smile, with a wink. "We'll see what we can do about the smoke monster at least."
Hugo smiles back, as if he's inordinately pleased that someone listened to his story without automatically thinking he does belong in a mental institution.
"Cool dudes. And call me Hurley. Sam and Dean right?"
Sam stands up and they shake hands too.
"Yes, Sam'n'Dean." He says it particularly fondly, which makes Dean grin. But then he catches himself and pushes Sam sideways because it's a bit too mushy. "Later Hurley."
The go sit a couple of rows of seat further, near the side of the desk, where they can talk without too much of an audience.
"Okay, so Linus obviously only showed one side of the coin." Dean sigh.
"Did you expect anything different? Still, there's a demon over there, and it's killing people." Sam and the demons, always the frigging demons.
"I know, Sam. But, fuck. A plane crash? I don't think I can go through with this." It's one thing to have a phobia, another to purposely put himself in a situation that has a high probability of resulting in an actual plane crash.
"I'm sure it's going to be fine." Then Sam's eyes widen. "Check this out!" He whispers.
Sayid Jarrah, hands under a jacket in a way that pretty much screams he's handcuffed, is being brought towards their gate by a tall woman with dark hair. Not far behind, Jack and Sun follow, looking totally shocked at the sight of their friend being under custody, and then Dean spots Kate Austen hanging out on the sides.
"Well, that makes five out of six; at least Austen had better sense than to bring a kid along." Dean declares.
The woman at the counter starts talking and her amplified voice ricochets against the walls.
This is the preliminary boarding announcement for Ajira Airways Flight 316, with service to Honolulu and Guam, departing from Gate 15. For those of you on the standby list, we'll have plenty of seats available.
That's when Hurley quickly gets up and rushes over to her counter.
We would like to invite our pre-board, first class and SkyClub passengers to board the aircraft at this time.
Dean's close enough to hear Hurley argue with the woman.
"What do you mean "standby"? There's no standbys."
"Oh, no, sir. You don't need to worry. There are..." she calmly announces, looking at her computer, "78 seats open."
Hurley protests.
"No. I bought those seats, all 78 of 'em. I'm Hugo Reyes. They're not open. They're mine. Check and see."
The woman types and then frowns.
"Yes, I see that. Sir, these people just want to get to their destination. Why would you not want them to be able to travel?"
"You know, it doesn't matter why. They can take the next plane."
Jack is now near the counter, and he greets Hugo, looking very pleased as other people start to board.
"Hurley. What are you doing here? How did you know about the..." Jack starts to ask, but Hurley interrupts him.
"All that matters is that I'm here, right?"
Jack chuckles again.
"Well... I'm glad that you're here, man."
There is a long pause and Hurley sighs.
"Okay, then. Let's do this. After you."
Sam gets up and reluctantly Dean does the same, before following Jack. He can't quite muster a smile when the attendant starts her speech.
"Welcome to Ajira Air." She takes his ticket. "Thank you, sir. Row 10, on your left."
Once inside the plane and close on Jack's heels, Dean sees meaningful glances between Jack and Sayid until the Iraqi looks at the woman next to him and frowns, avoiding Jack's eyes. Sun is not far, turning that gold ring on her finger again. Dean's progression toward his row is stopped when Jack stops to talk to Kate.
"You made it."
She takes off her sunglasses before answering him. She's really pretty up close.
"Yeah, I made it."
Finally Jack gets to his seat and Dean reaches his own just behind; Sam squeezes himself to fold into the seat beside him. Dean hates this job already, so much. He buckles his belt and checks if he has a paper bag (not because he feels sick, but just in case he might hyperventilate). Dean's distracted from his woes when Hurley enters, carrying a guitar case in front of him, but just after the flight attendant speaks up.
"That should be everybody."
Before she manages to close the door, here come Ben, looking badly beaten up, with an arm in a sling.
"Hold up! Wait, please! Thank you for not closing it." He pants, and he probably ran to get to the plane in time.
"Oh, that's okay. Go right on in." The flight attendant says with a smile.
"Thanks."
Hurley jumps up and cries out.
"Wait! What's he doing here?!"
Jack gets up and tries to calm him.
"Hurley, hey--"
But obviously Ben's way scarier for Hurley than a possible plane crash.
"No, no! He can't come!"
Jack again:
"If you want to get back, this is how it's gonna have to be."
Indignant, Hurley protests some more.
"No one told me he was gonna be here."
This time it's Ben who speaks up.
"Who told you to be here, Hugo?"
The flight attendant looks worried. Must suck to have difficult customers when you're to be stuck with them for fourteen hours in a flying metal tube.
"Is everything okay?" She asks.
Smiling, Jack answers her, throwing a meaningful glance at Hurley in the process.
"Yes. Yes, everything's fine. Right?"
Begrudgingly, Hurley finally settles.
"Yes, Jack. I'll be fine."
While the flight attendant has a couple of words with Jack, Ben reaches his seat and nods at them in salutation. Sam nods back, but they don't exchange a word. Jack comes back to his seat with an envelope, looking as he's been punched.
"What's that, Jack?" Ben asks, and Dean could bet he already knows.
"Nothing." Says Jack, before looking back at the people in coach. "And the other people on this plane - what's gonna happen to them?"
Ben is flippant.
"Who cares?"
And that, said so casually, makes a shiver go down Dean's spine. He's seen evil in many forms, and there is no doubt that little man has it in spades. Just a look at Sam's thunderous face tells Dean his brother thinks the same, and that probably accepting a contract from this guy is one of the worst ideas they've ever had.
Right now, that's not Dean's most pressing problem though since the jet engines start to whir, then roar as the plane moves down the runway.
"We're gonna die, Sam. Mark my words. I'm so kicking your ass in the afterlife for this."
Sam scoffs, and fishes out his douchy iPod from his pocket and passes it over.
"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Relax Dean, I even made you a playlist."
Snatching it, Dean puts the buds in his ears.
"What are you, fourteen?"
Dean does find a new playlist named "For Dean's pussy freak-out". Hovering between indignation and gratitude, he finally gives in and selects it because it does include most of his favorites. Sam thumbs nonchalantly through the in-flight magazine, trying badly to hide his victorious smirk.
***
It's been hours now, and if it hasn't been great, so far the trip has not been so bad either. With the music drowning out most of what goes on around him and keeping his eyes shut, Dean tries to visualize himself dozing while shotgun in his baby. But all of his acquired Zen is shot to hell when the lights flicker and there's some turbulence. It stops for a moment, then starts more violently. With an ominous ping, the 'Fasten Seat Belts' sign comes back on.
"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Dean hisses through his teeth, grabbing Sam's wrist on the armrest next to him. The flight attendant is walking up the aisle, and Dean has to do a conscious effort to unclench his fingers and grab his own thigh instead. No way this chick will see him clinging to his baby brother.
"Fasten your seat belt, ma'am. Sir? Please put on your seat belt. Seat belt, please."
Dean checks his own, even if he never unbuckled it because he's not insane, then checks out Sam's, he's got to make sure that he's got it on properly. Sam grabs his wrists, gently but firmly pushes him away until Dean sits straight in his seat again.
"Shhh -Dean. Dean. It's okay..."
But just as he says that, the plane starts to shake more violently and the lights flicker while objects start falling out of the overhead compartments. Dean has a disjointed thought about how a pissed off ghost wouldn't do worse when a bright light starts shining and there is a very weird and totally not normal buzzing sound getting louder and louder. The flight attendant is thrown from one side of the cabin to the other as the light and noise grow more intense, until suddenly there is nothing but white.
***
Then all is green, with flicks of blue. It takes about ten seconds of heavy breathing, with Ozzy still blaring in his ears before Dean realizes he's lying on his back in the middle of a jungle and that what he sees are tree branches overhead.
"Sam?"
The shout is out of his mouth before he's even clear headed enough to think. Dean moves his feet experimentally and when there's not even a twinge of pain, he pats himself up, finding no injuries at all. There's only jungle noise around him though, no Sam in sight.
"Sam!"
He bellows again, a million images of the horrible things that could have happened to Sam flashing in his head. He's got to find him, and now. As Dean staggers to his feet, a bit unsteady - he just survived a plane crash or something, it's perfectly normal - an overload of sensation hits him. It's overwhelmingly green all around, a bit hot and way too humid for his taste. He made it, though, he's on the frigging Island. The problem is that he only has Sam's iPod and the clothes on his back: no gun, no knife, no salt, no nothing. Least of all his goddamn flame-thrower.
He's been walking around shouting "Sam!" for a couple of minutes when there is some rustling in the undergrowth.
"Sam?"
But it's Jarrah, the Iraqi, who comes out and looks him over.
"Hey. Good, I was worried I was the only one from the plane who..." Dean tries to say as friendly as he can but he's interrupted.
"Shh. You are attracting way too much attention toward yourself."
Dean frowns.
"We can't be the only two that made it! I need to find my brother. Tall guy, stupid hair, you wouldn't have seen him around by any chance?"
Sayid shakes his head.
"I am sorry, no. I have seen no one but you."
He shifts and Dean's eyes are drawn to his bound hands, which makes Sayid step back, looking suddenly defensive. Dean's read his file, and he knows the guy is way more dangerous than a first glance would show. Short but compact, he's got special forces training in the Republican Guard and he carries himself with the easy grace of a fighter. Those last pictures in the file in the yellow Build Our World t-shirt don't fool him; Dean doesn't want a guy like that as an enemy if he can help it.
"Well hi, I'm Dean, and this was my first plane crash."
The corner of Sayid's mouth almost twitches up, but he doesn't relax much.
"Nice to meet you, Dean. I am Sayid Jarrah and if I count a helicopter at sea, it now makes three times for me. Most unfortunately."
He knew about Flight 815, but three? Dean whistles, impressed.
"Dude. I'd avoid any air traveling if I was you. Something I do myself, by the way. I shouldn't have broken my own rule."
This time, there's a definite humorous glint in Sayid's eye as he replies.
"I did not have much choice in the matter, this time."
Dean likes that, how Sayid doesn't pussy around the fact he was a prisoner. He wonders what happened to the lady cop, though, and if she's not lying around somewhere with her neck broken. Trying to remain casual, Dean asks.
"You lost your shadow?"
Sayid stares at him unflinchingly.
"I was alone, I have no idea where she is. As I said, I have seen no one but you." A pause. "I did not kill her."
Dean raises his hands in a peace gesture.
"I didn't want to imply that. It's..." He hesitates but tries something. "Well I've had shadows before. They were doing their job, even if totally mistaken about me. Never had to kill one to get away."
It does pique Sayid's curiosity, but Dean sees how he's starting to itch to go on his way by the way he darts looks around.
"The reasons she had were valid. I strongly suggest you stop shouting for your brother. You might bring unwanted attention on yourself. I have to go now. Good luck, Dean."
"Whose attention?" Dean asks, but Sayid's already starting to walk away. Cursing under his breath as he walks towards Sayid, Dean decides to play one of his aces. "The smoke monster?" Effectively, that gets Sayid to twirl towards him again, shocked. "Or the Others?"
By now they're only five feet apart from each other and Sayid surprises Dean by suddenly tackling him to the ground, trying put his bound arms around Dean's neck while pinning him with strong legs. But two mobile hands are a clear advantage and Dean's been trained for close combat, which Sayid doesn't suspect. He's able to use that element of surprise to avoid the choke and after a vigorous tussle, Dean manages to pin Sayid face down, arms under him, legs along his body and suddenly very still. Panting, Dean stays braced because he knows Sayid will feel any minute relaxing on his part and try to get out.
"Whoa, why did you do that, man? I'm no threat."
"Or so you say." Sayid growls.
"Look, Hurley told my brother and I about the monster and the Others, okay?"
Because if there's one thing that Dean did get loud and clear from Hurley's story, it's that none of the Oceanic Six like Benjamin Linus and saying he works for the guy would not get him sympathy points. It seems a good choice because the nature of Sayid's stillness goes down a couple of notches in the 'I waiting for my chance to fuck you up' department.
"Hurley."
"Yeah, at the airport. But I believed him, I've seen way stranger shit." And is that the understatement of the century, Dean thinks.
Sayid sort of laughs.
"You believed him?"
And…well Sayid has a point there. Maybe Sam and him could have gone to a better source for info on the Island and Ben. But there were the pictures.
"Yes, I believed him. I've seen hundreds of those smoke monsters in my life, I swear. I get rid of them for a living, for Christ's sake."
This time Sayid twists his head around until he's able to raise a very disbelieving eyebrow at Dean, but he doesn't say anything. Dean smiles.
"Catchy, ain't it? But it's true. It's a demon, and we're going to exorcise it back to Hell."
If possible, Sayid's eyebrow raises even more towards his hairline.
"I believe you have lost your mind. Probably a result of the crash."
Dean laughs but suddenly Sayid tries to buck him off, which he avoids by a hair.
"Hey, hey, that's not nice, we were having a good conversation here." Dean sighs dramatically for effect.
"I would prefer if it was not while I am face down on the jungle floor." Sayid replies, obviously frustrated that his attempt failed.
"Hey, that's all your doing, buddy, trying to get the jump on me. Not a good idea, by the way."
"I noticed. It was ill advised but you took me by surprise. I thought you were an Other."
"That's what I thought." Dean's not going to find Sam while pinning a guy he barely knows to the ground though, so they have to get out of this stalemate. "If I let you go, you promise you won't try anything stupid?"
"Yes."
To prove his good will, Sayid goes limp under him, and Dean hurries to get up and step back, to have room to maneuver in case Sayid tries something again. But the other man just slowly turns on his back and gets up to his feet gracefully in spite of his bound hands, always staying face toward Dean.
"Thank you. I am sorry I attacked you."
Dean waves dismissively and upon impulse gestures all around them at the Island and the jungle in general, making sure that for a moment he gives his vulnerable back to Sayid as a show of trust.
"Hey, extenuating circumstances. No biggie."
Face to face with Sayid again, Dean knows that Sayid got the message and the intent. He's practically smiling.
"You are a strange man, Dean."
Dean grins.
"But fascinating, I know. You would not believe how often I hear it."
When Sayid rolls his eyes slightly, it's like a punch to the gut bringing back the important stuff and Dean frowns, looking around again.
"I really need to find my brother. See, lately he's got this gift to end up in the middle of trouble all the fucking time."
"Obviously." When Dean looks over at Sayid, who's dusting twigs and earth off his clothes, Sayid shrugs. "Well he is somewhere on the Island. That qualifies."
"I'm beginning to think so." Dean says with a sigh. He nods to Sayid's hands with his chin. "Want me to check if I can get those off?"
This time, Sayid looks genuinely surprised, nods, and stays in place when Dean approaches him. He does his best to look nonchalant, but Dean half expects Sayid to try to strangle him again.
"Perhaps you have a knife?" Sayid asks.
Dean has to shake his head regretfully.
"Nah, damn airport security." They’re heavy-duty tie-wraps and Dean winces. Simple, but highly effective, a bitch to get off with nothing sharp. "Shit. Would you know where we could find something..."
"Thank you anyway. I will manage by myself."
Groaning, Dean throws his head back.
"Okay, look, I don't like to impose myself, but I have no idea where I am or where to look for Sam. Plus, it would be safer, especially for you. I heard about polar bears?"
Sayid chuckles at that.
"You really did talk to Hurley. Very well, but if at one point I want to go on my own, you do not follow me."
"Got it." Dean says rapidly. No negotiating on his part.
"I think I know where we are situated. We need to go east."
Dean turns to his right, wondering how it's any different from anywhere else because there's definitely no discernible point of reference in sight. When he looks back at Sayid questioningly, the man is smiling faintly and Dean realizes he just passed a test.
"You might be useful after all." He declares, before walking past Dean and rapidly getting swallowed by the jungle while going straight east. Dean hurries after him before he disappears.
***
Dean cursing and trying to tromp through the foliage and being just about to call to Sayid to wait the fuck up when-
"Stop right there!"
Obviously Sayid's been spotted, but Dean falls flat on the ground, hoping he was not. He can barely see through the foliage, but the man with the rifle, wearing a tan jumpsuit, does a double take.
"Sayid?"
After a moment of confusion, Dean hears Sayid question back.
"Jin?"
And look at that, it does seem like Jin Kwon.
"Where's Sun?" Is the first thing Jin asks.
"I don't know." Sayid says regretfully. Before the two men have time to say more, there are some footsteps and voices approaching, and Jin cocks his rifle, points at Sayid and barks.
"Shut up! Get down! Say another word, and you're dead."
Sayid does as he's told and totally helpless, Dean can only watch as the other men join Jin and then drag Sayid away. He wasn't caught, but Dean curses: there goes his personal, even if reluctant, guide.
Carefully, Dean follows them at a distance. He’s hiding at the edge of the jungle, weighing his options, a careful eye trained on the house where they’ve taken Sayid, when a blue and white Volkswagen van rambles up. Jin emerges from the building immediately, exchanges a few urgent words with the tall blond guy who’d been behind the wheel, and they disappear back inside together.
After a couple of minutes the blond man comes right out, taking Sayid with him, Jin and some other guy tagging along. It's only upon seeing the man scowl in annoyance before getting in the van that Dean recognizes him to be James "Sawyer" Ford. Now Dean remembers where he saw those stupid uniforms before: the DHARMA Initiative.
Figuring his best chance to get to Sam is to follow to where they take any prisoners, Dean starts to follow the path the van took.
***
When Dean hears a rifle being cocked, he knows that he's not been careful enough covering his tracks. He had hoped that the cameras in the clearing earlier were just for show, but no, of course not.
In a day of weirdness, that sort of fence-without-a-fence had still seemed threatening, making Dean wait by the edge of the jungle for a long time. In the end, Dean had resolved to climb over it using a log, because no one guarded a non-fence with cameras if said non-fence did nothing. Better safe than sorry.
The voice of the guy who has cocked the rifle is urgent and hostile.
"Stop right there, hoss."
"Crap." Dean mutters. He wonders about his odds of getting out if he just runs for it and hopes for the best.
"I said stop. You deaf? Put your hands where I can see ‘em." Clearly, his new friend is not happy.
Slowly, Dean puts his hands up on each side of his shoulders. He tries to sound as calm as possible.
"Easy there, we don't want anyone to get hurt."
"Exactly. Turn around slowly and don't do anything stupid." Replies the man, and Dean decides to comply. So long for his plan to bust Sam out and save the day.
"Okay, okay, I'm turning, there. See? No need for guns."
To be sure not to excite the man if he's trigger happy, Dean moves slowly and carefully. Turns out it's Sawyer, and he's definitely pissed off.
"Let me be the judge of this, pretty boy. Truce says you stay the fuck away, give me one reason not to shoot you."
Dean has no idea what the man is talking about.
"Truce? What? Look, I'm just looking for my brother. As soon as I find him, we'll get out of your hair."
That pun might be intended - the man looked better when his hair was a tad shorter like in his file. On the heels of that though, Dean wonders since when he thinks about proper hair length while in the line of fire. Clearly, he's become blasé in the face of danger.
"Your brother?" Sawyer is definitely surprised. "Son of a bitch. You're Dean?"
And if that ain't a huge relief. If James knows he must be Dean, it's because somewhere someone talked about him. He just hopes it's not Sam while being interrogated though.
"Yes! You've seen Sam? Is he okay?"
The way Sawyer's gun goes down and away tells Dean immediately that he's not really considered a threat. His suspicions are confirmed when Sawyer speaks next, now looking merely annoyed.
"He's fine, he's with Jack and all, we could pass them as new recruits." That's even better news that Dean had hoped, and he lets his shoulders sag in relief. Sawyer, on the other hand, looks more stressed than a minute ago. "Fuck. How the hell am I going to...Jesus Christ, this is so not my week." There is shouting and ruffling once more in the jungle so Sawyer speaks low and fast. "When my men get here, I'll treat you like a prisoner, you have to go along. Understand?"
His men? If they're on the same side, a.k.a. not the bad guys, Dean wonders why he can't just walk away right now so they pretend this little encounter never happened.
"Why wo-"
Dean doesn't even have time to voice the question properly. Sawyer's aiming the rifle back at his head again.
"Shut up and do as I say." He growls.
It's obvious the man knows how to use his gun just by the confident way he holds it. Change of plan, then, and Dean will have to put some trust in this guy, at least for now.
"Geez, okay, okay." Dean can't help himself and adds: "Although I got to say that your jumpsuit undermines your authority just a tad."
A little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Sam warns him that he should not piss off the guy with the gun. Effectively, Sawyer walks around to be at his back and pokes him briefly in the back with the nuzzle.
"Fuck you. Put your hands behind your head and start walking." After a couple of steps, Sawyer bellows. "I got him! Over here!"
***
The cuffs cinch uncomfortably tight around his wrists as he collides with the seat, shoulder hitting the unforgiving side of the bus and head thudding against the thick window. Struggling to sit upright, Dean finds himself faced with the four enraged but terrified DHARMA members, with a bonus of one Miles Straume looking at him suspiciously.
When the bus stops in the middle of a surprisingly suburban village, Dean is unceremoniously dragged out of the van and almost trips. There are maybe ten or fifteen people around, and both men and women look totally on edge and watch him with matching expressions of hostility. It's just before he's pushed inside one of the houses that Dean sees Hurley in a nearby door frame and Sam coming up beside him, dressed in one of those stupid DHARMA uniforms. It barely fits him.
Upon seeing Dean, Sam does his ridiculous woobie face of relief, before frowning when he takes in the fact that he's a prisoner. Dean can't help it and grins, reassured to see Sam well as promised. He's rewarded with the butt of Sawyer's - no, it's LaFleur now - rifle in the kidneys.
"Eyes forward."
It's true that he's not helping Sam's cover here, so Dean does as he's told, and that's how a minute later he ends up in the same cell as Sayid. Sayid's tie wraps have been cut, but no one seems in a hurry to take off Dean's own handcuffs.
"We'll be right back. Don't get too comfortable with your buddy here." Sawyer barks before closing the cell door and storming out.
The first thing Dean has noticed is the camera blinking red, recording everything they do. It's quite obvious that the DHARMA people are at war with someone else on the Island, and maybe if he plays his cards right, Dean can at least do something for Sayid even if he's screwed. So before Sayid says anything, he barrels into him and pushes him against the wall.
"See, it was totally stupid of you to run away, we'll always find you."
Sayid blinks and freezes.
"What are you doing?"
Under his breath, Dean mutters.
"Trying to help here, camera!"
Sayid smirks, and then pushes him back forcefully, so Dean staggers to the other side of the cell.
"No sound. And what are you trying to do, exactly?"
His back to the camera, Dean rolls his eyes.
"You're not stupid, Sayid. You had your hands bound, so you say you were trying to defect and join the hippie fest. I'll tell them I was supposed to find and kill you before you did."
"And that paints a target right on your forehead. No."
Dean curses, annoyed.
"Fuck, and why do you care! It's a way out, your friends will help you."
"More importantly, why do you care?" Counters Sayid, and for some unknown reason he seems incredibly pissed. Dean has no idea why Sayid balked so much at getting a bit of help, but he's not going to argue with a brick wall. Throwing his hands in the hair, Dean gives up.
"Fine!" He shouts. "You're on your own. Jesus."
Dean sits down with his back to the far wall of the cell, and they stay in a tense silence until the door opens. It's not the official welcoming committee though, but a janitor pushing in his bucket. He looks at both Sayid and Dean with contempt. ’Roger, Workman’ is emblazoned on the lapel of his jumpsuit.
"You know what I can't figure out? Is how the hell you got caught. You hostiles are supposed to be the kings of the jungle. And how dumb are you that you got captured by these idiots?" He sneers as he cleans the floor.
Sayid laughs.
"And yet you're the one who mops up after them." He replies and Dean sniggers. Good one. Roger doesn't like it at all.
"Yeah, well... We'll see how cute you are once Oldham gets done with you, pal."
The mop clatters and that's when they all notice a kid in the doorway.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Roger demands briskly.
The boy inhales sharply and looks terrified.
"I was bringing you a sandwich." He says to Roger, showing a plate. Dean's stomach gargles at the sight. He'd love a sandwich.
"A sandwich?" Roger scoffs. "You never made me a sandwich in your life."
The kid, who has huge blue eyes behind his round glasses, stammers.
"Yeah, well...I-I made one for myself..."
"Uh-huh." Roger says derisively.
"So...So I just thought that I'd bring you-"
"Oh, yeah? You just..." Roger goes towards the kid who gasps, afraid.
"Dad, don't!"
Roger now sounds menacing and Dean gets up and goes to the bars, gripping them. It's just not right, treating your kid like that. The boy was just bringing a sandwich, for God's sake.
"Don't you lie to me. What are you doin' down here?" Roger shouts, and hits his son, who gasps and cries.
"Hey!" Dean protests but Rodger is too enraged to take notice. He's menacing the kid again.
"You made this sandwich for them, didn't you? Hmm?"
The kid's voice breaks.
"Yes."
"Who told you to do that?"
"Nobody." Says the boy.
Rodger whispers, low and menacing but loud enough for Dean to hear.
"Nobody?"
"I just thought that-"
"You 'just thought,' huh? Go home." The kid cries and his father pushes him towards the door. "Go on. I'll tell you what to think."
The dish breaks as it hits the floor and the tray clatters down right after. Sayid and Dean are left alone in the room when the door slams back shut, father and son gone. Dean's so riled up that he's gripping the bars with white knuckles.
"That's just nasty. Poor kid."
Sayid scoffs derisively and Dean turns to look at him with disbelief. How can he be laughing?
"Do you know who that kid is?" Sayid asks.
Of course Dean doesn't.
"No."
Sayid has a sly little smile that looks a bit manic around the edges.
"Benjamin Linus."
For a second, there, it does not compute.
"What the hell do you mean, it’s Ben-"
"Dean…it is 1977." Sayid says, pointedly.
Dean gapes, but then it makes some sort of sick sense, with the DHARMA Van looking pristine, the dated firearms and the horrible hair he witnessed in the camp.
"Are you sure?"
A nod.
"You got to be shitting me." Dean exclaims and Sayid just shakes his head no. Dean goes back to sit against the wall, hitting his head back on the concrete. "Crap. I already did my back to the future trip, and I really didn't like it the first time around."
Sawyer and four other DHARMA members enter the jail. Unlocking the cell door, Sawyer opens it and approaches Sayid.
"All right, last chance. You got anything to say?"
Sayid does not reply. Sawyer sighs and then abruptly tasers him. Sayid drops to the floor. Probably seeing Dean's instinctual urge to come and help, Sawyer then turns to Dean, showing the taser.
"We'll be right back for you. Don't make it harder for yourself." He then addresses his men, sighs again and nods to Sayid. "Take him to Oldham."
The DHARMA guys enter the cell, handcuff Sayid and bring him God knows where to do whatever that Oldham guy specializes in. Without thinking too hard, Dean has a little idea what that must be.
***
Two hours later, Dean finds out for himself, no need to guess.
He tumbles out of the van, pulled harshly by Sawyer’s goons. If Sawyer had seemed ready to help earlier, he’s stone faced now. Bluesy music scratches out from a genuine phonograph set up near a ragged tent, sounding tinny and strange in Dean’s ears.
The little man in front of him looks up, squints. There’s an unhinged gleam in his eyes behind his thick glasses and Dean thinks back to Sayid, crumpled on the cell floor, limp and smiling a bit too much, and he knows he’s in trouble.
"Maybe we should use more... hmm... old fashioned methods on this one. I wonder if my stuff didn't turn."
Sawyer frowns, then protests.
"Just give him less, Oldham, no need to get nasty. We're not savages."
Oldham has a little half smile.
"Don't worry, I won't have to do much. Put him in the restraints."
While the guards are undoing Dean's handcuffs and tie him up to a tree, Dean can see Sawyer arguing with a man in glasses and wavy long hair out of the corner of his eye. Sawyer's definitely not winning his point though, and he stops after a while, crossing his arms. Oldham stands in front of Dean, who by reflex stands tall, shoulders squared and feet placed apart for balance.
"Hey. I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you cooperate, this won't take long and won't be too painful. Do you understand?" Oldham asks.
"It's perfectly clear." Dean says with a smile.
"What's your name?"
"My name's Dean, but that's all you'll get from me." Name, date of birth, rank and service number: that's all a Prisoner of War has to say. Dean's pretty sure the date of birth would not go so well right now, anyway.
"We'll see about that." Oldham sniggers, looking kind of pleased to have a difficult customer. "Why did you breach the perimeter?"
Dean just stares at Oldham, keeps his mouth shut. From now on, he's not going to say a single other word. Oldham shakes his head.
"Tsk tsk tsk, Dean, this isn't starting as I would have wished." A pause, then pointedly. "Again, why did you breach the perimeter?"
Since Dean just stares some more, Oldham punches him hard in the liver, enough to take Dean's breath away. As fast as he can stand it, Dean throws his shoulders back and smirks at Oldham, conveying the best he can that he think the loony hits like a girl, although it was a very hard blow. Predictably, it enrages the little man.
"Is that how you want to play it, Dean? You really want to laugh at me in my face?"
Dean widens his grin, even if he knows it's asking for trouble. Oldham flushes red in anger and goes to a table on the side to get some wooden splinters, probably made of bamboo.
"We'll see how you like this, then. Tell us why you breached the perimeter. Were you with Sayid or after him?"
When Dean doesn't answer, Oldham grips his right hand and slips a splinter below Dean's nail on the middle finger. It hurts, a lot, but in the thirty years of torture Dean's suffered through down in Hell, one thing he got good at was how not to cry out and look as impassive as he could. Dean clenches his jaw and just stares ahead. Seeing no results, Oldham puts another splinter on the next finger, and Dean focuses that he's just glad it's not his index. Another burst of pain, but it's like tickling compared to the tortures Alastair put upon his soul. Oldham is still questioning him, getting frantic, but Dean's not listening anyway, and that owes him a new splinter in the left hand.
Sawyer is looking at what is going on with horror, and Dean sees him absentmindedly rubbing his own nails on his thigh. The wavy haired guy looks uncomfortable, but it's the security guys who look the more nervous. Dean gives them a snarling smile and from then they are not even able to sustain eye contact, visibly scared. It's just when he realizes that Oldham is not talking to him but to Sawyer and wavy haired guy that Dean pays attention.
"Don't worry, I'll get to him." Oldham tries to reassure.
The next splinter is driven under Dean's nail so hard that it's ripped right off. Dean clenches his jaw thigh as his throat goes dry, but he doesn't even grunt. Sawyer explodes.
"Jesus Christ! You'll get nowhere with this guy! Anyone would have at least have cried out by now!" He turns to curly hair. "C'mon, Horace, stop this."
Horace does look a little pale.
"He seems to have specialized POW training. I'll have to amp it up a bit." Oldham admits reluctantly, going towards his work bench and taking a pair of sharp cutters. Here goes a couple of fingers, Dean thinks with an interior sigh. Horace is fidgeting and Dean stares at him, tilting his chin up. Let that be on his conscience when he goes to bed tonight. When Oldham approaches Dean with much glee and reaches for his hand, Horace finally shouts out.
"No! Stop!"
Oldham almost pouts.
"I'm sure it's going to make him talk, it'll show him we're serious."
"I said no, Oldham! Whatever he says, it's not going to change much anyway. The hostiles clearly breached the perimeter, that's all we need to know. LaFleur, bring him back to the cell, and then come to my house. I'll call a meeting."
"Yes sir." Sawyer nods, and when he gets to Dean he glares at Oldham, snatching the keys for the restraint. "You're a sick fuck, Oldham, you enjoy this way too much."
Oldham has a tight smile.
"I don't like you either, LaFleur. Now take your trash with ya and everyone leaves." He shoots a look at Horace. "Come back only if you're serious, or I won't waste my time. Got it?"
With that he disappears into his tent.
***
( part 3)