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Nicky thrashed and raged at the door, but received no response other than the metallic rattle of the jiggling handle. Exhausted, he collapsed against it, leaning heavily against the concrete wall of his cell.
The last thing he remembered was being with his family, teaching Nile how to play poker, when everything had turned black. It must have been some kind of gas, filtered into the room silently and efficiently, that was the only explanation for why he felt so weak. Fear pulsed through his blood, heart thumping as he tried to recall more. He could vaguely remember the feeling of hands on himself, but couldn't identify if anyone else had been taken.
“If they took me, they must have taken the others.” He said out loud, barely more than a whisper.
“They used gas, they probably don't know what we are,” he continued. “Just stay calm, flying off the handle won't help anyone.” Nicky took several deep breaths, attempting to centre himself. The gas was still making his mind fuzzy, but he could tell it was clearing.
He didn't have to wait long before the door creaked open, Nicky pressing himself to the wall furthest from it. He intended to find out whether the others had been taken before he acted, but when the figure of his captor stepped inside all coherent thought vanished from his mind.
He let out a sound somewhere between a wail and a shriek, overwhelmed by his emotions. Before him stood Quynh, her hair longer and slightly skinnier, otherwise exactly as he remembered.
“It’s you,” was all Nicky could say, all words escaping him. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, having given u hope that they would ever be able to find her again. Even with new technology, monitoring every sensor and radar they could get hold of, they had never seen so much as a flicker of life.
“It’s me.” Quynh agreed, her voice sharp with an edge of anger. It was a tone Nicky was familiar with, having seen those on the receiving end die a thousand times over. She was angry, and she had every right to be, Nicky could never fault her for that. Still, he had to know.
“Are you well?”
“As well as I can be, given the circumstances.” She replied, using an old Vietnamese dialect that Nicky had not heard in centuries. It had been too painful to speak with it after they lost her. “No thanks to you.”
Nicky hung his head in shame.
“I am so sorry. We searched, but…” there was nothing he could say to make things better, and the words died in his throat.
“You didn't search hard enough.” She sounded almost sorrowful, but there was still that rage behind her tone. All the time he had known her, Quynh had been a woman of action rather than words, and when she spoke like that it meant something bad was going to happen. He shuddered to think of what. Voice trembling in fear for his family, Nicky spoke.
“What are you going to do?” Despite his shivering, he met her eyes, determined to face their punishment with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Someone has to be punished,” Quynh stated. It was almost businesslike, the way she said it, as though this was something she had to do rather than wanted to. In many ways, Nicky supposed she did. This was not so simple as being angry, this was centuries of suffering that demanded release in one way or another.
“I could not do it to Andy, not when she is mortal,” Quynh continued, “nor Nile and Sebastian, they had no involvement in this.” Were he not so intent on listening, Nicky would wonder how it is she knew these things. The dreams were useful, but not so well timed as to give you the information you needed. No, it was more likely that she had been following them for a while.
All the thought that had gone into this, it was not just an act of revenge. This was meditated, thought through and planned.
“It was you or Joe, really it always had to be. Only could you two know how it feels, to be trapped as I was.” Nicky wanted to plead for Joe to be left alone instinctively, but he held his tongue, frightened to draw more attention to his husband. “I thought it would be more appropriate for a christian to suffer. Ironic, isn't it?”
“We’re by the ocean, aren't we.” Nicky’s mouth was dry, his head feeling as though it had been stuffed with cotton, and he couldn't help his breath catching in his chest. Quynh seemed pleased by his fear.
“Yes. Don’t worry, I won't keep you waiting long.” Nicky had never been an expressive man, but he couldn't keep the keen from slipping through his lips. Without another word, Quynh was gone, the door slamming closed behind her, leaving him in the dark.
— — — — —
Nicky had not been able to rest in the lead up to his punishment, working himself into a panic several times before he began to split from reality. He wondered how long he would be underwater for, if he might be there forever. Would he go mad? Would Joe? He could barely create a coherent train of thought, eventually descending into desperate praying. A bit for himself, more for Joe and his family.
Far too slowly, and in no time at all, the door opened again. The panic had left him feeling frail and drawn, and his attempt to escape had very little effect, barely stopping the bulky men Quynh had hired. Half aware he sobbed weakly, pleading for them to stop, begging them not to do it. When Nicky’s eyes fell on Quynh, he fell silent.
Within moments he had been wrapped in chains, as tight as a cobra around his limbs, barely able to twitch a muscle.
“Gag him, I don’t want to hear him beg,” Quynh ordered apathetically. Nicky wondered, as a piece of fabric was shoved between his clenched teeth, if Quynh was worried she would falter.
He redoubled his efforts when he saw the iron maiden. It did nothing to dissuade them, and the wind was knocked from his lungs as he was thrown into the metal.
It closed with a dreadful sound, the only light getting in through a narrow window at eye level. From what Andy had described, this was exactly like the one Quynh had been buried in, and he was hysterically amused by the irony of it all.
Quynh was doing this in a calculated way, exactly as it had been done to her. She had not embellished it, or added any additional tortures. As much as it scared him, it gave him hope.
Even if he spent the rest of his life drowning, he felt sure that Quynh could be reasoned with. Someday, she might be calm enough to rejoin the family, and enjoy the rest of her life as she should. Perhaps it would be worth it, he prayed. More selfishly, a part of him felt grateful that he at least had the hope of improving technology. Quynh had never had that chance.
The boat rocked underneath him as they set sail, hearing the jeers and shouts of the crew. He wondered what their motivation was, how they were able to justify what they were doing. Money? Religion? Cruelty?
Sick with terror, Nicky almost wished that they would reach the drop point and just have it be over already, and he realised that this was the meaning behind Quynh’s words. “I won't keep you waiting long,” she had said.
A larger part felt as though he might vomit or urinate on himself in shock.
It felt as though they had been sailing for hours when Quynh finally gave the order to weigh anchor. The ship juddered to a halt, and Nicky felt as though he might faint. There was a terrible screech as the iron maiden was dragged to the edge, and then Quynh met his eyes through the gap.
“I hope they search for you better than you did for me,” she commented emotionlessly. If he could have spoken, Nicky would have said the same, but the fabric pinned his tongue. Then, he was falling.
— — — — —
The pressure of the water was agony, making his ears throb and bleed. He had not even come to a stop at the bottom before Nicky’s lungs ruptured and his chest burned with scalding hot pain. At first he could see the air bubbles as they floated toward freedom, but soon he could hear nothing at all.
Slowly, his lungs reformed, but Nicky had already died several times. He must have, though it was hard to tell. Each time he awoke, he would instinctively inhale and drown all over again, thrashing against his prison until he died. Then, he would awaken and do it again.
It was impossible to tell whether time was passing, with only the constant weight of freezing cold water and pain in his chest. The oxygen level of his blood continuously dipped, until he could barely make himself struggle. His brain felt fuzzy, no coherent thoughts getting through other than fear and desperation.
Nicky screamed as best he could, knowing it would do nothing. It was unimaginable, indescribable. No words could explain the horror of realising that you were never going to escape, that this is what your existence would be until you mercifully died.
He vowed to keep the glimmer of hope that he would be found alive for as long as possible. Mostly, he tried to think of anything other than drowning.
In snippets, he went over his life. He thought about Andy, and how desperately she had fought for all of them throughout their life. He remembered the nights he would spend with Booker, admiring the man’s loyalty to a family that would never return. He felt protective love as he considered Nile’s nobility in returning for a group that she didn’t even know, saving them from torture.
He prayed that Booker knew that he was forgiven.
He thought about Quynh, and what she was like. He thought about what she could have been if things had been different. Would she have liked the television as much as he thought she would? Did she ever go out and eat all the food Joe would have pointed out to her as her favourite? How would she have felt upon meeting Booker and Nile? Would she have been able to save their brother from himself?
Mostly, he thought about Joe. his smile, his eyes, his hair, his love, his laugh. He prayed that Joe was alright, that he would move on from this if they could never find him. He never wanted Joe to suffer as Andy had, but he knew that it was an impossible wish.
Joe would never give up on him, just as Nicky would not idf their circumstances were reversed.
Again and again he drowned, until the gag crumbled to dust in his mouth. He could feel the manacles around his wrist start to scratch and rub where the metal rusted in the salt water. This time, he wondered whether Andy would still be there when he got out. If he got out.
The longer he was there, and the more his memories tried to decay, the more Nicky held onto them. He would go mad if he did not have them. The water could take a lot from him, but it could not take his family, he would not allow it. They were his.
Still, he waited. He hoped that Quynh was doing well, that she would be living a good life. He would imagine scenarios, as best as he could under his state of deprivation. Colours and shapes ceased to have much meaning, but he would try anyway. He imagined that she would go to school, and learn about all the things that had fascinated her when they were younger.
He could almost laugh when he pictured her in a history class, booing at the poor professor and pointing out all the details that were wrong when she got home. He imagined that she might get married, hopefully to Andy, now that gay marriage was legal in more places.
For so long, everything stayed the same, until one day it wasn't.
The earth seemed to move underneath him, and the water took on a motion it had never used before. He wondered if some kind of ocean creature had come across his casket, and hoped to break inside to eat him alive. Some smaller fish had tried at some point, Nicky could still feel them nipping at his skin until it tore away.
Having been wet for so long, it didn't take much effort. Some days, Nicky could feel the skin sliding off of his wrists when he moved, and felt too fascinated by the feeling to be ill. For a moment, it would distract him from the constant, unceasing pain.
The weight started to lift, his body no longer fighting against itself to stay in one piece. It felt like it was just another dream, he had so many of those. Each time he would believe them, because it was nice to believe for just one moment rather than to accept the truth.
He must have died again, because in flashes the world got brighter and brighter. It made his eyes sting mercilessly and his thoughts get jumbled and mixed, not that they weren't already. He only came back to himself when there was cold air against his skin, and wind touching him all over.
It was agony to vomit up the water that had taken its place in his lungs, algae and moss coming out too from where it had started to build on his organs and skin. Nicky was barely aware of what was happening. But suddenly his hands and legs were free.
It took several minutes for him to remember how to move his limbs, starting with minute twitches at his fingertips. His bones creaked and snapped as they changed position, the loudest sound that Nicky had ever heard. Everything was overwhelming, the smell of salt, the sound of the birds, the feeling of the wind.
Had he been able to think, Nicky would have been able to associate some of the feeling with long term starvation and oxygen deprivation. Instead, he felt panicked and confused and wanted it to end as much as he did under the water.
Then, he realised he could breathe. Air flowed freely into and out of his chest, the best, most glorious thing he had ever experienced. He marvelled at the feeling of it, existing only to not be in pain.
For a long time he existed in this state, barely aware that anything was going on around him. Someone was with him, but he didn't dare believe it could be real, too scared that in admitting who it was he would wake back up. Maybe he was dead after all, and it was finally over.
All at once, his senses began to adjust, and he was able to detect his surroundings. Suddenly, the constant hum of noise turned into voices, into actual sentences that he could make sense of when he focused. He could feel a person pressed into his skin, soothing him and rubbing him as he came back to his senses. He could taste the air, fresh and clean, not salty.
With a rare bout of courage, he focused his mind. He was laying on a bed, tucked under a warm blanket and held gently against someone's chest. It was dark in the room, so as to not overwhelm him. It was real.
Slowly, hesitantly, Nicky sat up, turning to see who was holding him. Joe looked back at him, eyes wide with unfathomable fear and face pale. He looked so skinny, as though he hadn’t been eating enough, and his hair was unkempt and cut roughly. A job done out of necessity rather than care.
“Nicky?” Joe asked hesitantly. It was the most beautiful sound that Nicky had ever heard.
“Are you real?” He croaked, voice having been unused in who knew how long. Joe nodded, eyes filling with tears and hands reaching out to touch Nicky’s cheeks. Only half believing it, Nicky leant into the touch, feeling his own tears on his cheeks. That was what convinced him, you couldn't feel tears underwater.
They crashed together, undignified and desperate and oh so relieved. Nicky sobbed, well aware that Joe was doing the same thing, and he hugged so tightly that he worried his husband's ribs might crack. The husband he had been so scared he would never see again.
“Oh Yusuf,” he said, the words delicious on his tongue. How long he had waited to say that name again.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Joe sobbed, inconsolable. Nicky could only hush him softly, leaning back and pulling Joe into a long and passionate kiss. “You’re here, you’re here.”
“I’m here,” Nicky agreed. “We’re together again.” He felt a burst of gratitude so strong it brought more tears to his eyes, so relieved that after all this he was still himself. Fate had let him keep his beloved after all.
— — — — —
Later, once they had calmed enough to be able to talk, Nicky found out that he had been under for five years. So short a time, barely a blink in their lifetimes.
“Come, my love. The others will be so glad to see you.” Joe urged. It took Nicky a few attempts to stand. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, shocked by how thin he was, every bone visible under a canvas of stretched skin. His hair and beard had been trimmed down, but he could imagine how dreadful he must have looked at first. How long were your nails after five years, he wondered.
Joe helped him walk, promising that in just a few months it would be as though nothing had happened, a statement which gave Nicky hope as much as it scared him. He wondered whether it would ever feel as though nothing had happened.
Staggering into the kitchen, Nicky was almost knocked to the floor by a rambunctious Nile, and he found himself laughing with joy.
“You’re back, you’re here! Oh thank goodness,” Nicky held her tighter.
Booker hesitated, but Nicky stumbled forward and tugged him into a hug, so grateful to see him. The memory of how angry he had been was so faint now it was as though it had never existed. Nicky wanted nothing but to have his brother at his side.
Andy had also hesitated, unusually quiet. When Nicky met her eyes, they were red rimmed and as grief stricken as they had been when Quynh was taken. Both were still, wondering what it was that the other needed, until eventually Nicky spoke.
“I thought I would never see you again,” he weeped, unable to stay back for a moment longer. It felt like he was a babe in his mothers arms, feeling truly safe for the first time in years, breathing in her familiar scent.
In his delight, he had missed that there was another figure in the room, and upon laying eyes on her Nicky felt as though he had turned to stone. All the air was driven from his lungs, and he wobbled until Joe was by his side to hold him upright.
Quynh looked lost, so small in the corner of the room.
“She helped us find you,” Nile explained. “Almost immediately after it happened, she came to us. It took a while to find you, but we couldn't have done it without her.” The young woman sounded terrified, as though she feared that there was about to be a fight. Once upon a time, there might have been.
“You found me?” Nicky asked.
“I should never have let you go,” Quynh replied.
“So you… forgive us?” He dared to ask, and Quynh nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“I do, I should have known it earlier. I was just so angry. I don't blame you if you can't forgive me, I will go, I just needed to see that you were alright.” With surprising strength, Nicky pushed Joe off, and walked over to Quynh like a newborn fawn. She looked petrified, and squeaked as Nicky wrapped his arms around her.
“There is nothing to forgive, absolutely nothing.” He growled. “You are alright, you are safe. That is more than I could have ever asked for.” Gently, she returned the hug.
There was not a single fibre of Nicky’s being that felt resentful, not anymore. There was nothing to be angry about. This loop of fear and pain and punishment was going to end with him, that he was sure of. That was all he needed to be sure of.