The Glass House: Chapter Sixteen
Jul. 2nd, 2008 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfanficsTitle: The Glass House
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderfulrana_narsilion <3
Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 3,277
Chapter: 16/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, angst, mentions/descriptions of torture
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Summary: Andrew comforts Craig, Seb talks more indecipherable babble, and Craig learns about Andrew's dark side, the significance of which will be revealed in time.
Chapter Sixteen
Craig remained cuddled in Andrew's arms for some time until he'd calmed down. Andrew seemed to have infinite patience for him, though Craig didn't think he deserved it. He looked up at him, biting his bottom lip, ashamed at falling to pieces in front of him. He went to speak but Andrew gently pressed a finger against his lips.
"Don't say anything. You've got nothing to apologise for," Andrew said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burden you like that," Craig said.
"Don't apologise. Feeling any better?" Andrew asked.
"A little, yeah. Gods, I wish Caleb were here," Craig said.
"Don't worry, I'll stay with you until he gets back," Andrew said.
"You don't have to do that. Chris needs you more than I do," Craig said.
"He hasn't been tortured. You need me more. Come on. Let's get up. A hot bath might do you some good," Andrew said.
"N-No, please, I'll be alright," Craig said, suddenly scared again.
"You can't run away forever. You haven't had a chance to deal with what you went through and it's about time you did. Come on," Andrew said, urging him to get up.
"No, I don't want to. Please, don't make me," Craig said.
"Do you want to be scared for the rest of your life? Do you really want to be troubled by nightmares? Come on, I know you. I'm offering a chance to find peace. Why wouldn't you want that?" Andrew said.
"I… I'm scared. You don't know what they did to me. Horrific things." Craig swallowed, clutching his knees to his chest.
"Living in fear isn't living at all. Come on, you need to heal," Andrew said gently, taking Craig's hand in his own. He wasn't ready to admit that he eally did know what they'd done to him. Craig wasn't ready to hear that yet.
Craig stared at him, seeing the compassion in his eyes. He tried to speak, but couldn't find the right words.
"You've been hiding this for a long time. Don't you want someone else to shoulder the burden with you? Come on, Seb wants to talk to you," Andrew said.
"Seb? W-what are you talking about? Seb's dead," Craig said.
"Just come with me. I don't know why, he just said he wants to talk to you," Andrew said, pulling Craig to his feet.
Craig followed obediently, still shaken but curious as to what Seb might want with him. Andrew led him to the small shrine room Adam had said they could go to if they needed to talk to Seb. Opening the door, the heady smell of incense caressed them as they entered, even though there was no incense burning on the shrine. Andrew hung back by the door. Craig approached the shrine and curled up before it, not sure he was worthy enough to be here. He couldn't stop crying.
A warm hand reached down to touch Craig's shoulder, a hand that became solid the more it lingered there. "Andrew?" Craig said hesitatingly, lifting his head up slowly.
"Get up. I will not have you kneeling like a slave before me," came Seb's voice.
Craig sat up, unsure where the voice had come from. Had Andrew heard it too? Craig turned to see Andrew blissfully unaware of what was going on. Only then did Craig notice there was another presence in the room. Looking up, he saw the owner of the hand on his shoulder. Seb stood there smiling down at him, as real as if he was still alive. Craig got to his feet, unsure what to say to him. Seb grabbed his arms gently, no trace of anger in his expression.
"Seb? Is that really you?" Craig said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It is, yes, although a mere figment of what I was before. I live, yet I do not live. I am trapped in this room. My guidance is still needed. How are you, my little devil? You were always the rogue one, weren't you?" Seb said.
"I should've been more faithful to the cause. I was divisive when I shouldn't have been, even after you died." It was all Craig trusted himself to say.
"What was done to you is in the past. It hurt, I know it hurts like poison in your veins, I know what they did to you, but seeing you now, you've let them win. The more you let it control you, the more you let them control you. The trauma will ache and burn and darkness will overcome you, but there is light, there is always light. Be brave, my little devil, and you shall have your vengeance. Already you begin to heal. Caleb will return to you soon enough. Share the burden inside you. You are not the only fullwing who has ever been tortured. You are lucky it hasn't destroyed you, or killed you. Do you not want the rock in your heart to be turned to fire, to life? You are broken, yes, but you can be fixed, and you will be or you will be destroyed completely," Seb said quietly, his words pounding into Craig's heart and mind. Seb touched a hand to his chest, over his heart, smiling down at him.
Craig covered his face as he began to cry again, still seeing himself as a failure. Seb brought him into his arms, holding him tightly. Craig wanted to speak, but words seemed inadequate. He didn't know what to say.
"And so it begins, my little devil. Be strong. Be brave. If you cannot be strong and brave, you will die. You are a warrior. I expect you to be one. Fight for our ancestors. Fight for our freedom," Seb said.
"How do I heal?" Craig whispered.
"Andrew and Caleb will know what to do. Trust them. They will help you, as will I. I cannot take your pain away, but I can help you heal. Now dry your tears. I must talk with Andrew as well," Seb said, letting go of Craig.
Craig backed off, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Seb turned to Andrew.
"Andrew, I only ask one thing of you. You must be strong for him. You will need to hear things that will sicken you. You will also be tested. I cannot guarantee you will come out of it unscathed. You will need each other more than ever then. Craig, you will need compassion in spite of what happens. I am unable to say any more than this. Be prepared. Look after each other. What happens is not your doing, but of people beyond my control. Now, go, Craig. Begin your healing," Seb said.
Seb vanished into the air. Craig pulled Andrew into a tight hug, crying against his shoulder.
"Shh. It'll be alright, Craig. Come on, let's get out of here," Andrew said quietly, holding him tightly.
Craig nodded glumly and let Andrew lead him away and back to his room.
Andrew got him settled and snuggled up beside him on the bed. Craig had almost stopped crying. Andrew knew what he had to do, much as it scared him. He grabbed Craig's hand gently, letting him know he was there.
"Craig? Craig, I want you to t-tell me everything that happened to you. Just knowing you were tortured isn't enough. You need to let your memories go. Internalising them only makes them worse. So please, tell me what happened. I'll try to be brave for you," Andrew said softly.
Craig squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away his tears, and shook his head, not wanting to relive those memories again.
"Please. You need to heal. Tell me everything," Andrew urged gently, brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers.
Craig turned to look at him. Andrew saw nothing in his eyes but pain and fear. The compassion in Andrew's eyes was enough to break his resolve. With a quiet voice, Craig told him everything, much as it pained him to do so. Andrew sat beside him awestruck, listening to his words without saying anything, not wanting to interrupt him.
Andrew held him afterwards, comforting him like a child. Craig had no secrets left. Andrew tried not to think about the pain and his injuries as he held him. Craig still carried scars, and had shown every single one of them to Andrew. Andrew hadn't wanted to touch them, they still emanated pain, but Craig insisted. Andrew touched them all, running his fingers along them as much as he dared. No one could doubt Craig was a warrior. He had the battle scars to prove it.
Andrew was suddenly more aware of Craig's body than he had ever been before. He would see him differently now. He could see scars he had taken no notice of before and now he knew the stories behind them all. Suddenly his slight limp made sense. He could see his destroyed knees and wondered if they would ever be possible to fix. It must be painful to walk. Andrew's mind was alive with horrifying wonder as it pictured the techniques that had caused them all. Suddenly, he felt queasy.
Indeed, Andrew had finally learned why Craig was so protective of his wings. It wasn't just because of the nerves and their sensitivity to touch. Craig was always terrified that anyone touching his wings was about to pluck feathers from them one by one in the most painful way possible. Andrew cringed. He was glad they hadn't broken his wings. He'd seen the results of broken wings, and it was usually a crippling experience for the poor fullwing.
"They almost did. They almost took batons to my wings and broke them. But they didn't. They were stopped at the last minute. That was just before I was released. They didn't feel so precious about breaking any of my other bones though," Craig said, as if reading his thoughts.
"How did no one manage to notice your injuries when you got back?" Andrew said.
"Someone saved me. I don't know who. I got a few hundred metres down the road when I collapsed. I just couldn't go any further. I woke up in what looked like a small hospital. For some reason, I had been picked off the road and taken there to be healed. I spent a week or so there, I think, before I had to go. I could walk and breathe and fly and that was all that mattered to me. I grabbed some painkillers and set off one night, and staggered back to the haven in one piece. If I'd turned up in the state I had been in before, I think you would have noticed. But with few visible injuries, I'm not surprised it wasn't obvious. I'd sort of forced myself to act normal. I didn't want to show my fear. I'm stubborn like that," Craig said.
"So why didn't you even mention it?" Andrew said.
"I desperately wanted someone to notice. I really did. But no one seemed to remember I'd even been gone. Am I that forgettable? That made me hide it. If no one cared that I'd been missing for three weeks or so, why would they care that I'd been arrested and tortured?" Craig said. He sighed and dried his eyes. "It was stupid, I know. I should've said something. But I didn't. I just let it eat me up inside instead. I didn't want anyone to think I was weak."
"You're not weak for succumbing to torture. You're incredibly brave for hanging on for so long. I don't think I could've done that. I don't have the pain tolerance that you have," Andrew said.
"It's not just about pain. I mean, that's part of it. But that's not what you're fighting. It's hopelessness. You're there, at their mercy, and you can do nothing. Absolutely nothing. They beat you, hurt you, starve you, leave you hanging by your arms, whatever. It all becomes one big blur after a while. The relentless questioning and the way they mess with your head makes you doubt your own sanity. It's far more mental than the pain suggests. You need to keep your head to survive. Otherwise, they will destroy you," Craig said.
Andrew winced at the image of Craig being hung by his arms. He knew all about stress positions. It was part of what you learnt when you joined the military police. Andrew had opted for intelligence over fieldwork. His superior officer had suggested it, given his academic scores far surpassed his physical strength. They needed someone like him to work the brains of the force, and being trained in intelligence meant learning how to interrogate prisoners, and that meant learning the art of torture. Not that they called it that. They were enhanced interrogation techniques.
"Craig, I never told you this, hell, I've never told anyone this, but I know how to torture. I worked intelligence in the military police for three years. Part of my training was learning enhanced interrogation techniques. Torture. The six months I served in New Zealand made me decide to leave and never pick up a gun again. That's why it's so painful to hear about what happened to you because that past me remembers what it was taught and what they were trying to do to you. I'm dangerous because I know those techniques and have had to use them during warfare. I know what I'm capable of. I also know how much energy it takes to fight back the urge to use them. I left the military nearly 9 years ago, but it still haunts me. I know how to kill. I know how to torture. I know how to torture someone without leaving any marks. It's a darkness inside me I can't run from. It's on all my official records. Major Andrew John Hansen, three years military police service, honourably discharged from duty following six months deployment to New Zealand. I was far too good at what I did. That's why I ranked so quickly. I left to stop myself harming anyone else," Andrew said.
"You were an interrogator? You serious?" Craig said, not quite sure it was possible.
"I didn't used to look this pathetic, you know. The Army cadets trained me up well. I was in peak physical condition back then. I was strong and fast and agile and quick-thinking. Still was a tiny runt, but I was a fit, strong, tiny runt. I've lost a lot of my fitness since then. I was one of the best interrogators in my unit. But New Zealand destroyed any pride I had in my work. It became an excuse to abuse and degrade, for torture to show what it was really like. And it scared me how readily I adapted to the increased range of techniques we were told to use. I had to be stopped once because I almost drowned a prisoner. I was ordered back to Australia for two weeks leave before being redeployed again. I was never quite the same though. The fact that I had nearly lost control frightened me. Those two weeks was when I made the decision to leave when my three years was up. So two months later, my three years were up. I returned from duty and went to my commanding officer and told him I wanted out. He wasn't surprised, but he was sad to see me go. He was right that it was something I was particularly good at, yet I needed to be away from situations where I would lose control again, and that meant leaving the Armed Forces. He understood. He understood completely. He'd taught me everything he knew. He had that same look in his eyes that I had, that dreaded horror and fear from knowing what you're really capable of. He wished me luck and let me go. I left my uniform behind and never looked back," Andrew said.
"Jesus. Why didn't you ever tell anyone about this?" Craig said.
"Well, it was all there on the public record if they'd bothered to look. I just don't like talking about it. He retired last year, as it happens. I bumped into him in the city and he recognised me. Asked me if I wanted to catch up over a drink. Only then did I feel safe to tell him what I really felt about it, and he confessed he had been very reluctant to sign me up for training in the first place. My psych exam told him I'd be brilliant at intelligence, but I'd be a double-edged sword, just like he was. Pressure from above forced his hand and I got in. I'm sure my enthusiasm helped. They quite liked the idea of a psychiatrist's son becoming a Military Police interrogator. They thought I had the right background," Andrew said.
Craig brought him into a hug, holding him close. Craig was suddenly lost for words. He was embracing someone who had been trained to inflict pain on him, just like his captors had. Yet he pitied him. This was his Andrew, and Andrew was harmless. Well, perhaps not so harmless. But it was still Andrew and Craig could see he had his own trauma to deal with. He'd seen it in Chris' eyes as well, though he already knew Chris had served in New Zealand.
"It's okay, Craig. I managed to wrangle counselling through veterans' services so I'm not as raw and traumatised by it as I was when I first left. But that doesn't mean I don't forget what I did. I just know how to cope with it better," Andrew said.
"I wish I had that. Not that it matters. I'll be dead in 15 years or so anyway. We never live past 50. I can already feel my body getting tired. Maybe I'll die sooner. I wonder when I won't be able to fly anymore. I should die then. No one wants a grounded canary," Craig said.
"Is flying that important to you?" Andrew said.
"Yes. I am nothing if I can't fly. It's what I am. It's why I was made. I was made to fly. If I can't fly, I'm just like everyone else. I'd have wings, but be unable to fly with them. How pathetic. How humiliating," Craig said.
"I wish I could properly understand that," Andrew said.
"I wish I could properly understand how you could bring yourself to torture someone, so I guess we're even," Craig said with a small smile.
"Ahh, that, my friend, is another matter entirely. It does take a certain mentality to understand it anyway. Don't tell anyone, will you? I don't want them thinking I'm evil or something," Andrew said.
"Don't worry, I won't. I can understand why you wouldn't want that widely known," Craig said.
"Thanks. I mean, every kid serves their time anyway, and because of the compulsory three years' service, there are a lot of traumatised veterans around. You'd be hardpressed to find ex-military vets who aren't scarred by their experiences. This is not humane warfare. That ended a long time ago. We fight for nothing short of total conquest, and nothing is off-limits. That mentality changes the way you see torture and how it's used. There's no going back now," Andrew said.
Craig clung onto Andrew, wanting both to comfort him and to be comforted. Craig lay him down and held him close, wrapping his wings around him. They exchanged a simple kiss, and Craig held him, trying to wish both their pain away.
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderful
rana_narsilion <3Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 3,277
Chapter: 16/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, angst, mentions/descriptions of torture
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Summary: Andrew comforts Craig, Seb talks more indecipherable babble, and Craig learns about Andrew's dark side, the significance of which will be revealed in time.
Chapter Sixteen
Craig remained cuddled in Andrew's arms for some time until he'd calmed down. Andrew seemed to have infinite patience for him, though Craig didn't think he deserved it. He looked up at him, biting his bottom lip, ashamed at falling to pieces in front of him. He went to speak but Andrew gently pressed a finger against his lips.
"Don't say anything. You've got nothing to apologise for," Andrew said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burden you like that," Craig said.
"Don't apologise. Feeling any better?" Andrew asked.
"A little, yeah. Gods, I wish Caleb were here," Craig said.
"Don't worry, I'll stay with you until he gets back," Andrew said.
"You don't have to do that. Chris needs you more than I do," Craig said.
"He hasn't been tortured. You need me more. Come on. Let's get up. A hot bath might do you some good," Andrew said.
"N-No, please, I'll be alright," Craig said, suddenly scared again.
"You can't run away forever. You haven't had a chance to deal with what you went through and it's about time you did. Come on," Andrew said, urging him to get up.
"No, I don't want to. Please, don't make me," Craig said.
"Do you want to be scared for the rest of your life? Do you really want to be troubled by nightmares? Come on, I know you. I'm offering a chance to find peace. Why wouldn't you want that?" Andrew said.
"I… I'm scared. You don't know what they did to me. Horrific things." Craig swallowed, clutching his knees to his chest.
"Living in fear isn't living at all. Come on, you need to heal," Andrew said gently, taking Craig's hand in his own. He wasn't ready to admit that he eally did know what they'd done to him. Craig wasn't ready to hear that yet.
Craig stared at him, seeing the compassion in his eyes. He tried to speak, but couldn't find the right words.
"You've been hiding this for a long time. Don't you want someone else to shoulder the burden with you? Come on, Seb wants to talk to you," Andrew said.
"Seb? W-what are you talking about? Seb's dead," Craig said.
"Just come with me. I don't know why, he just said he wants to talk to you," Andrew said, pulling Craig to his feet.
Craig followed obediently, still shaken but curious as to what Seb might want with him. Andrew led him to the small shrine room Adam had said they could go to if they needed to talk to Seb. Opening the door, the heady smell of incense caressed them as they entered, even though there was no incense burning on the shrine. Andrew hung back by the door. Craig approached the shrine and curled up before it, not sure he was worthy enough to be here. He couldn't stop crying.
A warm hand reached down to touch Craig's shoulder, a hand that became solid the more it lingered there. "Andrew?" Craig said hesitatingly, lifting his head up slowly.
"Get up. I will not have you kneeling like a slave before me," came Seb's voice.
Craig sat up, unsure where the voice had come from. Had Andrew heard it too? Craig turned to see Andrew blissfully unaware of what was going on. Only then did Craig notice there was another presence in the room. Looking up, he saw the owner of the hand on his shoulder. Seb stood there smiling down at him, as real as if he was still alive. Craig got to his feet, unsure what to say to him. Seb grabbed his arms gently, no trace of anger in his expression.
"Seb? Is that really you?" Craig said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It is, yes, although a mere figment of what I was before. I live, yet I do not live. I am trapped in this room. My guidance is still needed. How are you, my little devil? You were always the rogue one, weren't you?" Seb said.
"I should've been more faithful to the cause. I was divisive when I shouldn't have been, even after you died." It was all Craig trusted himself to say.
"What was done to you is in the past. It hurt, I know it hurts like poison in your veins, I know what they did to you, but seeing you now, you've let them win. The more you let it control you, the more you let them control you. The trauma will ache and burn and darkness will overcome you, but there is light, there is always light. Be brave, my little devil, and you shall have your vengeance. Already you begin to heal. Caleb will return to you soon enough. Share the burden inside you. You are not the only fullwing who has ever been tortured. You are lucky it hasn't destroyed you, or killed you. Do you not want the rock in your heart to be turned to fire, to life? You are broken, yes, but you can be fixed, and you will be or you will be destroyed completely," Seb said quietly, his words pounding into Craig's heart and mind. Seb touched a hand to his chest, over his heart, smiling down at him.
Craig covered his face as he began to cry again, still seeing himself as a failure. Seb brought him into his arms, holding him tightly. Craig wanted to speak, but words seemed inadequate. He didn't know what to say.
"And so it begins, my little devil. Be strong. Be brave. If you cannot be strong and brave, you will die. You are a warrior. I expect you to be one. Fight for our ancestors. Fight for our freedom," Seb said.
"How do I heal?" Craig whispered.
"Andrew and Caleb will know what to do. Trust them. They will help you, as will I. I cannot take your pain away, but I can help you heal. Now dry your tears. I must talk with Andrew as well," Seb said, letting go of Craig.
Craig backed off, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Seb turned to Andrew.
"Andrew, I only ask one thing of you. You must be strong for him. You will need to hear things that will sicken you. You will also be tested. I cannot guarantee you will come out of it unscathed. You will need each other more than ever then. Craig, you will need compassion in spite of what happens. I am unable to say any more than this. Be prepared. Look after each other. What happens is not your doing, but of people beyond my control. Now, go, Craig. Begin your healing," Seb said.
Seb vanished into the air. Craig pulled Andrew into a tight hug, crying against his shoulder.
"Shh. It'll be alright, Craig. Come on, let's get out of here," Andrew said quietly, holding him tightly.
Craig nodded glumly and let Andrew lead him away and back to his room.
Andrew got him settled and snuggled up beside him on the bed. Craig had almost stopped crying. Andrew knew what he had to do, much as it scared him. He grabbed Craig's hand gently, letting him know he was there.
"Craig? Craig, I want you to t-tell me everything that happened to you. Just knowing you were tortured isn't enough. You need to let your memories go. Internalising them only makes them worse. So please, tell me what happened. I'll try to be brave for you," Andrew said softly.
Craig squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away his tears, and shook his head, not wanting to relive those memories again.
"Please. You need to heal. Tell me everything," Andrew urged gently, brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers.
Craig turned to look at him. Andrew saw nothing in his eyes but pain and fear. The compassion in Andrew's eyes was enough to break his resolve. With a quiet voice, Craig told him everything, much as it pained him to do so. Andrew sat beside him awestruck, listening to his words without saying anything, not wanting to interrupt him.
Andrew held him afterwards, comforting him like a child. Craig had no secrets left. Andrew tried not to think about the pain and his injuries as he held him. Craig still carried scars, and had shown every single one of them to Andrew. Andrew hadn't wanted to touch them, they still emanated pain, but Craig insisted. Andrew touched them all, running his fingers along them as much as he dared. No one could doubt Craig was a warrior. He had the battle scars to prove it.
Andrew was suddenly more aware of Craig's body than he had ever been before. He would see him differently now. He could see scars he had taken no notice of before and now he knew the stories behind them all. Suddenly his slight limp made sense. He could see his destroyed knees and wondered if they would ever be possible to fix. It must be painful to walk. Andrew's mind was alive with horrifying wonder as it pictured the techniques that had caused them all. Suddenly, he felt queasy.
Indeed, Andrew had finally learned why Craig was so protective of his wings. It wasn't just because of the nerves and their sensitivity to touch. Craig was always terrified that anyone touching his wings was about to pluck feathers from them one by one in the most painful way possible. Andrew cringed. He was glad they hadn't broken his wings. He'd seen the results of broken wings, and it was usually a crippling experience for the poor fullwing.
"They almost did. They almost took batons to my wings and broke them. But they didn't. They were stopped at the last minute. That was just before I was released. They didn't feel so precious about breaking any of my other bones though," Craig said, as if reading his thoughts.
"How did no one manage to notice your injuries when you got back?" Andrew said.
"Someone saved me. I don't know who. I got a few hundred metres down the road when I collapsed. I just couldn't go any further. I woke up in what looked like a small hospital. For some reason, I had been picked off the road and taken there to be healed. I spent a week or so there, I think, before I had to go. I could walk and breathe and fly and that was all that mattered to me. I grabbed some painkillers and set off one night, and staggered back to the haven in one piece. If I'd turned up in the state I had been in before, I think you would have noticed. But with few visible injuries, I'm not surprised it wasn't obvious. I'd sort of forced myself to act normal. I didn't want to show my fear. I'm stubborn like that," Craig said.
"So why didn't you even mention it?" Andrew said.
"I desperately wanted someone to notice. I really did. But no one seemed to remember I'd even been gone. Am I that forgettable? That made me hide it. If no one cared that I'd been missing for three weeks or so, why would they care that I'd been arrested and tortured?" Craig said. He sighed and dried his eyes. "It was stupid, I know. I should've said something. But I didn't. I just let it eat me up inside instead. I didn't want anyone to think I was weak."
"You're not weak for succumbing to torture. You're incredibly brave for hanging on for so long. I don't think I could've done that. I don't have the pain tolerance that you have," Andrew said.
"It's not just about pain. I mean, that's part of it. But that's not what you're fighting. It's hopelessness. You're there, at their mercy, and you can do nothing. Absolutely nothing. They beat you, hurt you, starve you, leave you hanging by your arms, whatever. It all becomes one big blur after a while. The relentless questioning and the way they mess with your head makes you doubt your own sanity. It's far more mental than the pain suggests. You need to keep your head to survive. Otherwise, they will destroy you," Craig said.
Andrew winced at the image of Craig being hung by his arms. He knew all about stress positions. It was part of what you learnt when you joined the military police. Andrew had opted for intelligence over fieldwork. His superior officer had suggested it, given his academic scores far surpassed his physical strength. They needed someone like him to work the brains of the force, and being trained in intelligence meant learning how to interrogate prisoners, and that meant learning the art of torture. Not that they called it that. They were enhanced interrogation techniques.
"Craig, I never told you this, hell, I've never told anyone this, but I know how to torture. I worked intelligence in the military police for three years. Part of my training was learning enhanced interrogation techniques. Torture. The six months I served in New Zealand made me decide to leave and never pick up a gun again. That's why it's so painful to hear about what happened to you because that past me remembers what it was taught and what they were trying to do to you. I'm dangerous because I know those techniques and have had to use them during warfare. I know what I'm capable of. I also know how much energy it takes to fight back the urge to use them. I left the military nearly 9 years ago, but it still haunts me. I know how to kill. I know how to torture. I know how to torture someone without leaving any marks. It's a darkness inside me I can't run from. It's on all my official records. Major Andrew John Hansen, three years military police service, honourably discharged from duty following six months deployment to New Zealand. I was far too good at what I did. That's why I ranked so quickly. I left to stop myself harming anyone else," Andrew said.
"You were an interrogator? You serious?" Craig said, not quite sure it was possible.
"I didn't used to look this pathetic, you know. The Army cadets trained me up well. I was in peak physical condition back then. I was strong and fast and agile and quick-thinking. Still was a tiny runt, but I was a fit, strong, tiny runt. I've lost a lot of my fitness since then. I was one of the best interrogators in my unit. But New Zealand destroyed any pride I had in my work. It became an excuse to abuse and degrade, for torture to show what it was really like. And it scared me how readily I adapted to the increased range of techniques we were told to use. I had to be stopped once because I almost drowned a prisoner. I was ordered back to Australia for two weeks leave before being redeployed again. I was never quite the same though. The fact that I had nearly lost control frightened me. Those two weeks was when I made the decision to leave when my three years was up. So two months later, my three years were up. I returned from duty and went to my commanding officer and told him I wanted out. He wasn't surprised, but he was sad to see me go. He was right that it was something I was particularly good at, yet I needed to be away from situations where I would lose control again, and that meant leaving the Armed Forces. He understood. He understood completely. He'd taught me everything he knew. He had that same look in his eyes that I had, that dreaded horror and fear from knowing what you're really capable of. He wished me luck and let me go. I left my uniform behind and never looked back," Andrew said.
"Jesus. Why didn't you ever tell anyone about this?" Craig said.
"Well, it was all there on the public record if they'd bothered to look. I just don't like talking about it. He retired last year, as it happens. I bumped into him in the city and he recognised me. Asked me if I wanted to catch up over a drink. Only then did I feel safe to tell him what I really felt about it, and he confessed he had been very reluctant to sign me up for training in the first place. My psych exam told him I'd be brilliant at intelligence, but I'd be a double-edged sword, just like he was. Pressure from above forced his hand and I got in. I'm sure my enthusiasm helped. They quite liked the idea of a psychiatrist's son becoming a Military Police interrogator. They thought I had the right background," Andrew said.
Craig brought him into a hug, holding him close. Craig was suddenly lost for words. He was embracing someone who had been trained to inflict pain on him, just like his captors had. Yet he pitied him. This was his Andrew, and Andrew was harmless. Well, perhaps not so harmless. But it was still Andrew and Craig could see he had his own trauma to deal with. He'd seen it in Chris' eyes as well, though he already knew Chris had served in New Zealand.
"It's okay, Craig. I managed to wrangle counselling through veterans' services so I'm not as raw and traumatised by it as I was when I first left. But that doesn't mean I don't forget what I did. I just know how to cope with it better," Andrew said.
"I wish I had that. Not that it matters. I'll be dead in 15 years or so anyway. We never live past 50. I can already feel my body getting tired. Maybe I'll die sooner. I wonder when I won't be able to fly anymore. I should die then. No one wants a grounded canary," Craig said.
"Is flying that important to you?" Andrew said.
"Yes. I am nothing if I can't fly. It's what I am. It's why I was made. I was made to fly. If I can't fly, I'm just like everyone else. I'd have wings, but be unable to fly with them. How pathetic. How humiliating," Craig said.
"I wish I could properly understand that," Andrew said.
"I wish I could properly understand how you could bring yourself to torture someone, so I guess we're even," Craig said with a small smile.
"Ahh, that, my friend, is another matter entirely. It does take a certain mentality to understand it anyway. Don't tell anyone, will you? I don't want them thinking I'm evil or something," Andrew said.
"Don't worry, I won't. I can understand why you wouldn't want that widely known," Craig said.
"Thanks. I mean, every kid serves their time anyway, and because of the compulsory three years' service, there are a lot of traumatised veterans around. You'd be hardpressed to find ex-military vets who aren't scarred by their experiences. This is not humane warfare. That ended a long time ago. We fight for nothing short of total conquest, and nothing is off-limits. That mentality changes the way you see torture and how it's used. There's no going back now," Andrew said.
Craig clung onto Andrew, wanting both to comfort him and to be comforted. Craig lay him down and held him close, wrapping his wings around him. They exchanged a simple kiss, and Craig held him, trying to wish both their pain away.