Breaking Havoc

A/N: I don't deserve readers like you. Because I fail.

Warning: No rape yet, but this story has plot too. Be patient, it's coming. (Harr harr harr, lame pun)

Chapter 5

The words were harsh, final, leaving no room for question, but fear had gripped Havoc’s belly. He couldn’t move. He was aching, sore, feverish, and about to get raped…again. Honestly, he didn’t know how much longer he could handle this. Upon hearing no response, Archer scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing on the trembling lieutenant. “Now Jean. Do not make me repeat myself.”

Havoc swallowed, his body shaking violently as his fingers moved to the button of his jacket, slowly undoing the long, heavy piece of fabric, before he shrugged it from his shoulders. The uniform’s coat was painless enough, being that it was so baggy, but the injured lieutenant really was not too keen on the idea of trying to rip off the flesh that had most likely started to heal to the fabric, without having at least a hot bath first. He glanced up, his eyes pleading with Archer to just leave him be, but the look on the Colonel’s face said it all. The shirt was coming off, and that was that.

Taking a deep hissing breath, Havoc grasped the fabric tightly around his wrists, tugging down hard. The bloodied cloth tore at his wounds, tugging and skewing the bandages that before had clung so neatly to his flesh. His mouth fell open, a small, nearly soundless cry whispering past his lips. Tears stung at his eyes, another wave of nausea curling in his gut. He felt as though he would pass out, his entire world collapsing into dark around the edges of his eyes. “Please.” He begged the word short and desperate as he took in another shuddering breath. He was whimpering freely now and he damned well knew it, but it hurt so fucking much. “I can’t.”

At the breaking of the Lieutenant’s voice, Archer slowly moved forward. His bitter cold hands ghosted along Havoc’s cheeks, holding his face agonizingly carefully, causing a shudder to run up the blonde’s spine. “You poor dear.” Havoc resolved himself to hold perfectly still, though the constant trembling of his shoulders didn’t cease, despite his efforts. Archer was too damned close, and he didn’t like it.

“Please Colonel.” The words were let out in a forced breath, his entire frame trembling as he closed his eyes tight, just trying to cling to whatever composure he still held. “I can’t.”

“Shh.” Archer ran his hands down Havoc’s jaw, trailing them along a strained neck, and down past his belly. The man carefully popped out the button of the trembling lieutenant’s standard edition uniform pants, before tugging the zipper all the way down. He reached back up, hooking his fingers in the waistline of both the remaining articles of clothing, leaving his hands there for a moment as he looked back up to meet Havoc’s pain clouded gaze. “Deep breaths now.”

Archer didn’t even give Havoc enough time to mentally prepare himself, before his boxers and pants were tugged down in one fluid motion, nearly taking the bandages beneath with them. The blonde let a small strangled sound pass his lips, his entire frame swaying as his stomach curled with sickness. Hands reached his sides, leaning him over strong shoulders as his legs were lifted out of the fabric that pooled around his ankles. Now completely naked, Havoc was gently maneuvered towards the back of the room, his eyes still blurred with tears. He felt his stomach come into contact with something cold, a gentle push at the center of his back forcing him down across what he could only assume was a counter. They must have been in one of the staff lounges.

Havoc tried to push to stand once more, but Archer just shoved him back down, the Colonel’s cold hands now carefully unwrapping the all but dislodged bandages that still clung half heartedly to his back. “Hold still.” The man demanded, the tone enough to keep Havoc from struggling as the tensors were drawn from his flesh and left to pile on the floor. “Hm, this isn’t good at all. You may have done a good job hiding it, but it doesn’t even look as though you disinfected any of the wounds.” Fingers gently traced the edge of a wound stretching across his shoulder blades, causing his entire frame to jump. Archer clucked his tongue, as if scolding Havoc for his carelessness. “These were made with metal you do you realize. If you’re not careful, you’ll get a nasty infection, and someone will find out about our little secret. Oh, if only you hadn’t misbehaved yesterday.”

Havoc twisted his head to the side, his palms splayed out on the counter at either side of him, bracing his body as Archer's hands continued to trace his wounded flesh. He clenched his jaw together, the twisting in his gut having settled, now replaced by a sharp sting of anger. Archer was playing him for all it was worth. The man knew damned well that all of this was his fault, and yet everything he said put the blame on Havoc.

Suddenly the hands were gone, the pressure from his back leaving completely. Havoc took a chance, bracing himself with his arms and slowly lifting his chest off of the counter. Not a smart idea. Hands gripped his shoulders, shoving him down with a dizzying amount of strength, causing his entire frame to tremble. “Fuck.” He hissed, his brow resting on the cool granite counter once more, his breath short and quick as he fought back his body’s sudden urge to pass out. Archer had just been fucking with him again.

“Did I say you could move?” Nothing, no physical contact what so ever, and no way for Havoc to tell just how close Archer was to him. But he knew that if he tried to stand again, he would surely gain nothing short of a face full of counter. “Hold still, and don’t you move an inch until I get back.”
Havoc nodded, though he knew the gesture was useless. He wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t dare. He was naked, weak and bleeding. Even if he did manage to escape, where the hell would he go? Running through the base in nothing but his bloodied up birthday suit really didn’t sound like such a good idea. Especially not after all the hard work he’d put in to keep his painful condition a secret. The last thing he needed was to compromise himself and his career.

The silence in the room became exceedingly thick. Havoc shifted, his mind jumping as he heard something open at the far side of the room, probably a cupboard, but he didn’t dare look up to check. He stared at the granite before him, the dark, nearly black colour holding his attention as he waited, his stomach curling in sick anticipation. He didn’t know what Archer was playing at, but he didn’t believe this ‘nice guy’ act for a moment.

Really, he didn’t trust the man any farther than he could throw him.

Suddenly, a small, heavy click sounded through out the room, the noise echoing in Havoc’s head, and setting his senses ablaze with fear. He’d locked the door. Whether that was a godsend, or a curse, Havoc wasn’t really sure. Half of him had hoped that Archer would forget about the door, that someone would accidentally walk in on them, and save Havoc from whatever fate he was about to face. But that hope was gone now, his wish for rescue being shattered with each heavy footfall that now moved closer to his trembling frame.

His gun. He’d almost forgotten the holster that had fallen to the floor with his jacket, his gaze flicking to the article of clothing on the ground, hope rekindling. If he could only make it there before Archer got to him. Adrenaline controlling his actions, Havoc pushed off of the counter. Unfortunately for him, Archer was far too fast for his injured body. Before he’d even managed to think of how to react, a strong hand curled around his forearm, jerking him around just in time for his cheek to collide with Archer’s free hand, the blow to his face causing him to momentarily go into a state of shock. Using the Lieutenants confusion to his advantage, Archer jerked Havoc back, his actions none too gentle now. He soon had both of the Lieutenant’s wrists in his hands, drawing the poor blonde into his chest with alarming strength, giving Havoc a good, hard shake. “What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull soldier?”

Havoc felt afraid, honest to goodness afraid. He had seen this sort of thing before, with victims of spousal abuse and rape, the women and children that the military rescued from broken houses. But he honestly never expected to be on the receiving end. But here he was, Archer throwing him around like some damned rag doll, and he could do nothing to stop him.

Archer growled, spinning Havoc around, this time literally slamming him against the counter, the collision of his belly against the stone surface enough to knock the wind out of the blonde. Archer leaned down across his back, his hands pressing Havoc’s forearms hard into the granite counter, his lips finding his trembling victim’s ear. “I thought I told you not to fucking move.” He hissed, his knee slamming against the cupboard between Havoc’s thighs, forcing the Lieutenant’s legs out as he pressed down on him with his entire frame. “You just try running again, and I won’t be so kind.”

Havoc swallowed, his body limp against the counter as Archer pulled back to pick something off of the floor, a plastic bottle of some sort that must have dropped during the small scuffle. He fixed his gaze ahead of him, his teeth gritting painfully as he fought back the fear eating at his belly. For a while, there was nothing. And then, suddenly, something cold and burning hit his back, trickling down his spine towards his tailbone. He cried out in surprise, moving to shift away from the stinging liquid, but finding a hand on the base of his neck, holding him down. “Stop whimpering.” Archer’s harsh voice cut through the air, the flow of liquid stopping as damp fabric began to ghost across his open wounds, spreading the burn around. “It’s a disinfectant, it’s for your own good.”

The cloth continued to gently work through all of the lieutenant’s open lacerations, carefully cleaning, but still causing the blonde to twitch with pain. It stung like a bitch.

After what seemed like forever, Archer pulled back, his grip on the back of Havoc’s neck tightening as he hauled the man up to his feet. The Colonel held him standing, leaning over to the side to grab a roll of fresh bandages. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” Havoc didn’t need to be told twice. He stood perfectly still, the comfortable pressure of a clean wrap starting against his chest as Archer began to bind his freshly cleaned wounds.

Minutes seemed like hours, and Havoc almost wished that the bandaging wouldn’t end. If Colonel was busy caring for him, he couldn’t be doing other things. But soon enough, Archer cut the last piece of the wrap, fastening the end carefully and drawing back. Havoc nearly whimpered as those hands came back just moments later, coiling around his waist and resting on his hips. Archer pressed his chest flush to Havoc’s back, his lips gently grazing the side of the lieutenant’s neck. Havoc closed his eyes, his throat becoming dry as he nervously licked his lips, mentally preparing himself for whatever would happen next.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was for Archer to draw away completely. “I want you to come to my office tomorrow, and every day following that, so I can make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Havoc turned, his gaze meeting Archer’s, his expression that of confusion. “Don’t worry pet, it’s not because I care about you or anything like that. I just can’t those injuries of yours impeding your work. People will start to ask questions." Havoc’s gaze darkened, defiance flashing in his gaze, his fear momentarily forgotten. Fuck Archer, and fuck his games. Archer caught the look, his own eyes narrowing down in a dark and disapproving glare. “Make sure you don’t forget to stop by tomorrow lieutenant. That’s an order.”

Havoc tore his gaze away, flicking his eyes to the floor. “Sir.”

“Good man.” Those freezing fingers gently ruffled his hair as Archer passed, the Colonel moving silently out the door, leaving Havoc to gather his senses, and his clothing. The bandaging was an excellent job, better than he could have done himself, but yet another bruise across his cheek was not going to be a picnic to try to explain at work tomorrow. He groaned, sliding into his pants, before allowing his body to fall back onto the couch, his entire frame trembling. “Fuck he scares me.” But there was nothing he could do. Nothing but wait, and hope.

---TBC---