Chapter 4
A cold chill moved up Oliver’s spine and filled his body as he waited for one of them to be dragged out of their chair.
“Mr. Stark, it’s been 6 hours. I hope this first session reminds you a little bit of your time in Afghanistan.” The woman turns and Oliver can see her eyes dart between him and Peter under her mask. She seems to have made up her mind. “Alright, we’ll start with Bethany.”
Oliver’s body goes cold. The muscular man and woman move towards him. He looks into their eyes. “Please, please don’t I’m just a kid I’ll do anything alright I just wanna go home please.” The metal restraints unlock and the two take Oliver by the elbows, practically dragging him toward the metal tub. He tried to resist, he really did. He dug his heels into the ground and thrashed his arms and everything, but the two held their grip. The hands on his shoulders forced him to kneel. Oliver’s eyes stared into the lens of the camera, like a big black eye. Waiting for him to drown.
He turned to the woman holding him down. “Please. Please don’t.” Her eyes were blue under the mask, he couldn’t read them. He took a shaky breath in, forcing back a sob he knew would come. The man gripped his hair tightly. Oliver looked back into the camera.
The man plunged his face into the water. It was freezing, and Oliver barely avoided gasping at the icy sting. His hands went to the man on the back of his neck. He tried desperately to resurface, to get back to where he could breathe. The water was in his nose and slipped through his clenched teeth. Struggling was hard, harder than relaxing would be but, he couldn’t just lie there, couldn’t just let them drown him. His lungs started to burn. He scratched and tore at the man's wrist. Please, he thought, let me up. He wasn’t sure how far they would take it. How long they would hold him underwater? Just when Oliver thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the man pulled him up. He gasped in, taking in a huge gulp of air, feeling the burn in his chest start to melt away. But then the man pushed him under again. He was weaker this time, grasping at the man's wrist. He wanted to cry out, to beg, to plead, but he couldn’t. They kept going. Letting him up just before he inhaled water. Pushing him down after a breath. It went on for so long. So long without oxygen. Oliver stopped fighting and started just letting them submerge his face. He was crying, he thought, from all the pain in his chest, from not knowing when this would stop. He couldn’t hold his breath anymore, it was too much, it was too hard. He could feel the water in his lungs, the heavy pain making it harder to breathe even when he could. Finally, Finally, they let him up. He hacked trying to expel the water from his lungs.
Lightheaded, shivering and coughing on the ground the woman placed her hand on his back. “Theeeeere you go. Cough it all up. Very good. Okay, now take a deep breath for me. Deeper. There.” It hurt, even when Oliver thought all the water in his lungs was gone, to breathe. He followed the woman's cues. Her hand on his back was so warm. He cradled into her touch trying to get any warmth into his soaked, freezing body. He was sobbing in between breaths. Whimpering and sniffling, he must look pathetic, he thought, covered in tears and snot. At least the water washed away the blood. At least the cold helped soothe his bruises. The woman wiped his hair out of his face and looked into his eyes. “You're all done for now honey.” She smiled at him. How could she smile at him? She had done this how could she just-. The woman pulled him into a hug. He was too cold, too weak to push her away. She was warm and dry and Oliver didn’t think they would give him a towel. Besides, it was kind of nice to be held. He hated himself for it but he sank into her arms, sniffling and crying softly. Oliver looked up, into the dark camera lens. He didn’t like it watching him, but he felt a sort of comfort, knowing someone would know exactly what had happened.
The woman pulled away from him, to Oliver’s disappointment and nodded for the guards to put him back in his chair. They weren’t gentle, despite Oliver not fighting them. It was his own weight that brought him down, he barely had the strength to walk on his own and the shivering didn’t help. The metal restraints were cold on his arms.
The woman stood up and turned to Peter. Oh. Oh no. Oliver had forgotten that not only did this boy watch him being drowned over and over in freezing water, but, now he had to have it done to him too.
“No!” He yelled out, almost unable to hold it back. The woman looked at him again. amusement sparking in her eyes.
“Oh?” She walked over to him, mock sympathy painted on her face. “Do you have something you’d like to say?”
“Please don’t. Why, why do you have to do him too? You’ve done me can’t that be enough?” Oliver’s voice was quiet, he knew she was probably going to do it any way but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want this boy to go through what he had just gone through, especially when this boy seemed so passionate and excited about life in the little time he had known him.
“Aw. Worried about him, are you? Don’t worry. I won’t let him die.”
“That’s not a comfort.” The woman sighs as if exhausted by the conversation. She turns to the muscular woman and man and nods.
Oliver didn’t know what to do as they moved towards Peter, dragging him as he kicked and struggled towards the tub of water. He wanted to beg and to scream and to tell them to stop, please just fucking stop. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because he barely even knew Peter or if it was simply the horror of it all. Or maybe, it was that he knew, no matter how much he begged, how much he screamed, how much he pleaded, they wouldn’t stop. His voice could only do so much.
They shoved Peter under the water. He thrashed and splashed just like Oliver did. Oliver hoped that he had somehow heated the water a little bit. Hoped that when Peter was done, he wouldn't have to cling to anyone just for their body heat.
He didn’t heat the water up, it seems. After minutes under the water, they let him up, gasping for breath, clawing at the air. His lips were blue and he was shivering. They pushed him under again. Oliver hated this, he really did. He turned to the woman. “Please stop.” He said it so simply as if asking the woman to pass the salt. She didn’t even smile this time. She just looked at him as if he wasn’t there.
They must have been doing it for an hour. Down, hold, up and down again. Peter had barely stopped fighting though. Oliver didn’t know how he did it. He kept clawing at the man's wrist. Kept trying to force his head up. Finally, they let him up and out. He coughed and wheezed but eventually, he just lay there on the ground, shivering. The woman knelt down, putting her hand on the side of his face. That's when Peter lunged at her. He got her by the neck, only for a moment, but for that moment he strangled her. Gave her a taste of her own medicine. The two guards were quickly pulling him away, first by his hair, then by his arms. He was still panting, still shivering when they got him in his chair. He was afraid, that was undoubtable, but he was also angry. Oliver admired it. His unyielding motivation to fight. Oliver had always been more of a frozen kind of person. I'm so tired, please just stop, kind of person. He admired that even though, despite doing very little damage, he still recognized that spark of violence in his eyes.
The woman readjusted her mask, cleared her throat and turned towards the camera again. “Well, Tony Stark. Six more hours.” The wiry person behind the camera clicked it off. They all left, except the woman, who walked over to Peter. She leaned in close and whispered something in Peter’s ear that Oliver couldn’t hear. Peter’s face fell. The woman backed up and smiled. Peter looked into her eyes with an incredibly genuine fear. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Amusement meeting horror in a terrible crashing gaze. Then, the woman simply walked out of the room.
“Are you okay?” Oliver’s question prodded gently. Peter was still shivering.
“I’ll be fine.” Peter didn’t look at him. He was shutting down, Oliver could tell. He was blocking everything out just so things wouldn’t hurt.
“What did she say to you?” Peter looked up, into Oliver’s eyes.
He let out a breath. Let something go. “It doesn’t matter.” Oliver believed him.
They sat there, both shivering in the room. They both wondered what could be next, after another six hours.
Time passed quicker now. Or, maybe the anticipation hurts more this time. They don’t say as much, both lost in their own thoughts and fears. Finally, Oliver breaks the silence.
“Are you scared?” he says it softly, without looking up.
Peter didn’t answer, not for a moment at least. He thought about it, he really did. “I don’t think so.” He sat with the answer for another moment before explaining. “I mean. Either they torture us and we get saved or they torture us and we die. Either way, it stops being our problem right?”
“I don’t want to die.” Oliver was really struggling to not cry now. He had just stopped but his nose was starting to tickle again and his chin was getting all scrunched up. “I’ve barely lived yet.” He meant it. With his parents and his transness and his- god his fucking life. He hadn’t had the opportunity to live the life he wanted.
“I don’t want to die either.” Oliver looked over at Peter. He looked like he was also trying very hard not to cry. Staring emptily at the door and pursing his lips. Oliver looked at the door too. Waiting. They were both waiting for it to open again. Torture or rescue. The only two options they could expect.