Chapter Text
Sleeping is the only way he can escape.
It's not the sleeping that's restorative and comfortable, but merely his head resting against his chest while his mind hovers somewhere between two worlds. Day in and day out they drag him to the practice ring, the starving dogs barking and growling at him when the leash him to the wooden spike in the middle. He sways on his knees and waits silently while they select a dog and release the vicious beast to come charging at him. He can hold his own for usually three, but it's always the forth that comes running and gets a chunk of his flesh. Despite being savages, the dogs are well trained and Leo barely has to say a word before they back off.
"He isn't as good as he was, Walt," Leo complains, dragging him back into the next room while his skin sings in the agony of missing flesh. Walt stares down at him when he collapses at his feet.
"The dogs aren't helping?"
"He can fight a few, but he can't handle as many as he could. It's the fifth time he's gotten bitten."
"He's fighting in five days, give him a little something to get his blood pumping."
Once he's chained back in his cell, they do just that. Leo injects something into his arm and he doesn't care enough to resist. The skin tingles and crawls with sensation as the substance works its way through his veins. He doesn't resist when they bring in a woman a few minutes after, and he tries to do what they ask of him. He can't look her in the eye when he settles on top of her, and again the urge to kiss her enters his mind. His lips burn with the urge, but when he does manage to look up at her it fizzes and dissipates. The girl under him looks frightened, but worst of all she looks young. He's happy he can't get hard, somewhere inside him he counts it as a sign of humanity that his body can't respond. He works a hand between them and strokes himself a few times with no luck, and his body tenses. The girl under him frowns up at him, and understanding when he grits his teeth and gives up and settles with the idea that he'll have to work with his soft member. His body is tense with the effort of moving gently against her, his eye foggy and distant. Leo is ruthless, and his patience wears thin of his slow movements. The pressure on his hole is startling, and he bares his teeth and shivers. He growls lowly and presses against her to get away from the increased pressure as something slips inside him. The frightened girl under him looks up at him sadly, with pity when a jolt against his prostate leaves him gasping. Her hand comes up to touch his cheek when he fights, his hands clawing at the dirty floor on either side of her. His eye slips shut when it prods deep inside him again, and he's panting into her shoulder. "It's okay," she whispers when he cums, his body jerking with release.
He'd heard those words before, somewhere in his head that echoed like a dream. He doesn't realize she's taking pity on the look of pure terror reflected in his eye.
~*~*~*~
They inject him more and more, and he's a quivering mess. He bares his teeth and opens his mouth in silent cries when he's on his hands and knees over some terrified woman and they insert something in him because it speeds the process up. It hurts in ways he's never felt before; a deep ache inside his pelvis that shoots pleasure up his spine unexpectedly. In all the years of this life, he'd never felt so completely unwell. His body won't cooperate, and numerous times he swears he sees a scrawny, innocent looking man with unruly dark curls standing above him. Twice, Leo holds him down because his body convulses so badly he nearly snaps his own wrists in the tight hold of the restraints. There's something that crawls under his skin sometimes, and he struggles uselessly to free his hands so he can claw it out. His veins bulge and throb while Leo curses and pours water on his face to wash the saliva and vomit from his skin. It works how they want, he beats all five dogs. Not because he wants to, but because he thinks they'll kill him if he doesn't. He thinks he killed more, but his eyes are seeing double and the barking echoes loud and pulsating in his skull. He tries to curl up on himself when he's returned to his spot; Leo stands over him and watches him sway on his knees, dangerously close to falling over and choking himself. Leo gives him slack in the chain, just enough to rest his head on the ground. His torn and bloodied finger nails claw at the ground under him, clenching and unclenching as the drug consumes him. His jaw tenses and his body squirms uneasily with the incoherency. His mind turns and wanders, his body shaking when Leo kneels to dab the wounds from the angry dogs. His body convulses and shudders, Leo eases his taught body back to rest on his back. "The drugs will help you when it comes time to fight, you just have to relax."
The day of the fight, Leo injects him again and waits until his eye fogs over and his muscles coil. He writhes on the floor when they release him, "Pull yourself together," Leo hisses, and One-Eye stumbles to his feet and sways along besides him. His eye scans the outside of the ring; so many people and he sees them all doubled. His chin is wet with drool, Leo wipes it with a flimsy piece of fabric they tell him is a shirt. Leo runs his hands through One-Eye's hair while the man stares into space with dead eye, and he ties it back in a ponytail and out of his face. "One-Eye," he hears Leo talking to him, but he can't look away from the harsh fluorescent bulb that dangles over their heads. Leo shakes him, "Listen to me, One-Eye. You need to win this fight. This isn't to the death, just until he can't get up anymore. If you don't win, Walt is going to dispose of you." One-Eye blinks slowly up at his face, his muscles tensing when another wave of incoherency washes over him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? Focus and the drugs will help you here."
Leo stands there and prepares him for another few minutes, and leaves once he's satisfied. He stares as the other man is chained to the post, their eyes locked. He's sweating, it drips down his face and burns his eye while the light blurs and changes colors. His jaw clenches and his arms tense, in that moment all he can feel is his own pulse throbbing when the other man charges towards him. They grapple, the other man growls when One-Eye bashes him into the post they're chained to. A swift kick to the chest sends him crashing back, and his muscles strain and bulge while his opponent lands on top of him. His hands clench and jerk, grasping at nothing when a fist crashes into his face. Paralyzed, he can't breathe or gather his strength to defend himself while the man beats his head into the ground. Each hit sends vibrations through his body and the light in the room cuts in and out of his sight while his muscles clench and spasm.
What surprises him most is how there's no pain, he feels an eerie sense of peace when he closes his eye and makes the decision that he'll let it end this way and that's okay.
Silence coats the room when the chain is yanked and the man above him is hauled backwards. He thinks he's finally dead, until someone pries his good eye open and light blinds him. He flinches away from the intrusion and bares his teeth the best he can; a dirty, metallic taste sits on his tongue. He struggles weakly against the sudden pressure of hands grasping him and he wants to fight more, yet he can only manage a hoarse grumble in his chest. "He's dusted," someone announces above him, and the bright light relents and his eye slips closed, "That's why he had a seizure."
There's a lot of commotion, but all One-Eye can make out is the wheezing breath rushing in and out of his own lungs.
~*~*~*~
"That was absolutely pathetic," Walt barks, and Leo crouches by his side and slaps his cheeks to rouse him. Leo cleaned him up without even insisting he stay on his knees, his fingers finding his pulse in his neck three times through the process to make sure he was still alive. He rinses out his mouth and tends to his fresh wounds in silence while he lays in the dirt and blinks blankly into space. "He cost me a lot of money tonight," Walt says from somewhere across the room.
"He had too much in him to be able to function," Leo grumbles back, lifting his eyelid again to check his pupil.
"He hasn't been able to fight for five months, and now he can't win," Leo already knows what he's going to say, "We need to get rid of him. No one will touch him after that, we'll have to dispose of him."
~*~*~*~
He must not be conscious for the whole trip, because one minute he's on the ground and the next minute he's on a carpet that moves beneath him. The door slides open, his hands grasping weakly at the rug under him when someone drags him towards the door and he hits the concrete with a thud before he can brace himself for the fall. He forces his eye open to see a dark black van pulling away. He's outside, he can tell because there's a breeze and the sun is beating down on his naked skin. His wrists are still chained tightly to the collar on his neck. He can't process what's happened, and he's too tired to focus on the yelling and fluttering that's now going on around him.
Sir, can you hear me?
Someone call an ambulance, don't touch him?
He slips back into the darkness.
~*~*~*~
Leo walks back into Walt's office and the man spins in his chair to face him, "Did you take care of him?"
He'll forever be haunted by the confused look in the man's unfocused eye when he rolled him out the van door, "Yes."
"You disposed of the body correctly?"
Leo swallows thickly, "Yes."
"Good, go get Lock-Jaw."
~*~*~*~
Jack Crawford's least favorite part of his job is paperwork, but that's how his down time is always spent. In a way, it's a comfort knowing that nothing more demanding and urgent requires his attention. It's good for him and his people to get some down time, especially Will. They wrapped up their last case nearly three days ago, and Alana Bloom had confirmed that Will was at all of his lectures and that she'd had lunch with him. The time off as good for him.
"Agent Crawford, you have a phone call from Los Angeles Police Department on line one." The intercom startled him from his thoughts.
"This is Jack Crawford."
"Hello, this is Harry Finch from L.A.P.D., a few months ago we got notice of a kidnaped John Doe that may had been being forced to leave the country put out by your office." The pen slips from his fingers and he inhales sharply.
One-Eye. "Yes."
"Five hours ago, we responded to a 9-1-1 call at the outer part of LA. The caller said a naked man was dumped out of a van and left on the sidewalk. First responders said the man suffered from severe trauma. He matched the description of the man in your alert, right down to the potential restraints around his neck."
Jack is already standing and putting on is coat, "I'm on the next flight out, where was he taken?"
"He went into cardiac arrest in route to the hospital, but they stabilized him and brought him to Cedars-Sinai. I recognized him from the description of his left eye."
"Thank you, officer. I'll contact your office when I land."
~*~*~*~
Of all his dogs, Winston was the one that was most attached to him. Will didn't mind, of course, except when Winston found himself well into the mud of the water where Will was fishing. It always resulted in a bath for both of them, because even Will didn't want muddy feet tracked into the house. His or his dog's. Not only was Winston the first dog to get dirty, he was also the one that enjoyed baths the most. Arm deep in soapy water, Will rinsed the dog's strange colored fur before toweling him off on the front porch. "Much better."
Turning around to see Jack's car pulling up behind his own car sent a shiver down his spine- for Jack to call him was one thing, but it must be of grave importance for the man to drive all the way out here to speak to him. The look on Jack's face when he gets out of the car tells him he's right.
Will frowns at him and stands when Jack approaches, three of the dogs running down to greet him. "What is it, Jack?"
"I just got a call form Los Angeles Police Department. They got a call about a severely beaten male that was dumped in the city. First responders reported the victim was a white male with mutilation to the left side of his face." Will's mouth goes dry and the towel drops from his hands.
It takes him a moment to find his voice, "Is he…he's dead?" A chill has him shiver, and he's ready to convince himself that it would be for the better; that the man would suffer for the rest of his life if he hadn't died. Death would be a comfort, and at least five months of wondering what terrible fate the man had been forced into would be over. They could all find peace. One-Eye could finally rest without the constant torment that gripped him. Will could find a way to be okay with that.
Jack shakes his head, "No. He was touch and go for awhile but they stabilized him. He's at a hospital in LA. I came to get you, I have us on a flight that leaves in a little over an hour."