Actions

Work Header

Stockholm Syndrome

Summary:

"Stockholm syndrome is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending and identifying with the captors."

Notes:

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Chapter Text

The air was dense and wet, making each breath feel heavy as it settled in your lungs. Locus strode down his long driveway with purpose, already thinking about the tasks he had to do today. The early hour had no effect on Locus' thoughts, even though he hadn't had a cup of tea yet. There was something refreshing about walking through the mist before the rest of the world was awake.

An animal stepped on a twig in the nearby woods, breaking the silence. The birds took this as a signal that they were allowed to make their presence known and started chirping. Locus took his hands out of his pockets as he came up to his mailbox. He shouldn't be wasting his time taking a walk, there were far more important things to be done.

Just as he reached out to take his mail, a hand clamped down on Locus' shoulder. A startled cry escaped his lips as a cold metal object made contact with the back of his neck.

"As long as you hold still, this is going to be easy," a smooth voice said in his ear.

Locus stayed as motionless as he possibly could as a hand patted him down. His wallet and keys were removed from his pockets. The gun was pressed a bit harder into the base of his neck. "Good," his attacker purred. "Now I just need you to stay right there. And say goodnight."

There was a sharp pain at the back of his head, then everything went dark.

~*~

His head throbbed. Every time he tried to open his eyes, the blinding light made him snap them shut once again. His hands had been handcuffed behind his back and his wrists were sore from struggling against them. The folding chair he had been chained to was uncomfortable and cold, despite the time he had spent in it.

How long had he been here? If Locus had to guess, he would say only a couple of hours. But, for as far as he knew, it could've been days.

There was the sound of someone taking a strangled breath and Locus was reminded that he wasn't alone. Ever since he had woken up, there had been noises coming from his right side. He was almost too scared to move, just in case they would be willing to hurt him.

He tried to open his eyes again. This time, Locus ignored the pain that shot through his head at the sudden light and squinted to look around the room.

He was in some kind of basement. The walls were made of unpainted drywall and the floor was cold concrete. Piping ran along the ceiling, leading to a set of old wooden stairs. The only furniture was a folding table with two bottles of water on it.

As his eyes adjusted to the light given off of a bulb that hung from the ceiling, Locus turned his head to see who else was in the room. To his right, a slumped figure was handcuffed to a metal chair. A blindfold covered his eyes and he seemed to still be unconscious. From what Locus could see, he was tall and well built. Whoever had captured the two of them could hold themselves in a fight.

Locus continued to stare, wondering who this other man was. He seemed vaguely familiar, but with the blindfold, Locus couldn't name him. From ten feet away, he could see the freckles on his tan skin and the dark roots in his blonde hair.

As Locus stared, the man started to stir. He lifted his head with a slight groan and tugged against his handcuffs. Locus watched as the situation fully dawned on the man, who started to frantically pull on the restraints and swore as if his life depended on it.

"Hey, it's okay," he spoke up, unable to simply sit and watch as his fellow prisoner panicked.

He jumped and whipped his head in Locus' general direction. "Who the hell are you?"

Locus tried to keep his voice soothing and steady for this man. Something about him made Locus want to protect him from what was going on. "My name is Locus. I'm also stuck here."

The blonde's brow furrowed and he stopped struggling. "Locus. As in Locus Industries?"

"That's the one. My father owns it."

With a defeated sigh, the blonde relaxed his shoulders. "I guess money is the motive here then. Leonard Church is my uncle. They must think that either him or my fiance's family will pay a ransom."

"And will they?"

He got a scoff in return. "Not likely. It's an arranged marriage, so once the cost becomes greater than the reward, they'll pull out. And my uncle won't care."

Locus nodded, despite the fact that the blonde man was unable to see anything. "I also doubt that my father will cough up the money."

There was a silence between the two of them as the gravity of their situation sunk in. After a couple minutes of quiet, the blonde broke the silence. "I'm Washington, by the way. Wash for short."

Locus gave him a weak smile. "Nice to meet you."

Washington turned to the sound of his voice. "Did you see who attacked you?"

"No. He came up behind me while I was getting the mail. Took my wallet, then knocked me out. Bastard." Locus scowled at the thought.

"I did. He knocked on the door and shoved a gun in my face. The last thing I remember is getting in his van," Wash said.

That piqued Locus' interest. "What did he look like?"

Wash scrunched up his face as he tried to remember. "It's a little fuzzy, but he was tall, shorter than me though, and buff. Black hair, looked sort of Asian, and had a bunch of tattoos. And the entire left side of his face was covered by a scar."

Locus groaned, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Washington. "My attacker was really short. I think we're dealing with two people here."

Before the two of them could continue talking, the noise of a door opening interrupted them. They both froze and Locus turned his gaze to the wooden stairs. Even more light poured into the basement. Heavy footsteps started approaching them, causing both of them to tense up.

Locus watched as a man that exactly fit Washington's description came into view. He hadn't gone into enough detail about the scar, though. It spanned from his mouth to almost the entire left side of his face. As he got closer, Locus could see that his left eye was damaged beyond repair.

He wordlessly grabbed one of the water bottles from the table and started to walk towards Locus. Locus tensed up and strained against his cuffs as he approached. He stopped just a few feet in front of the chair. Locus warily stared as he uncapped the bottle, the tattoos on his forearms twisting with the movement.

The man with the scar started to move the bottle to Locus' mouth. Locus jerked his head away from his hand and gave him a look that showed exactly what he was thinking. The man's mouth tightened. Before Locus could react he reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back.

"Relax," he growled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Locus could see Washington trying to get free. The man pressed the lip of the water bottle to Locus' mouth. Despite his will to resist, Locus was dehydrated. He swallowed the water reluctantly, shooting daggers with his eyes at the man gripping his hair. After he had had his fill, the man released Locus.

"Hey, Sharkface! You down here?" The door opened again and another man jogged down the stairs.

Locus stared, knowing that this was most likely the man who had attacked him. He was nothing what Locus had expected. He was short, but looked strong. His hair was dark with an orange streak in it. He was also Asian, but it was more obvious in him than in "Sharkface." He also had a lot more tattoos and piercings than his accomplice and was somehow much more scary.

Sharkface turned to look at the new arrival. "I don't need your help, Felix."

Felix smirked. "Oh, yeah. I didn't think you could handle two spoiled rich kids that are handcuffed to chairs and most likely have concussions."

Locus clenched his jaw. He liked Felix even less than Sharkface. Unfortunately for him, Felix noticed.

"Oho, looks like Locus doesn't like us, Sharkface." Felix grinned as he walked towards Washington's chair. He reached out to brush his hand against Wash's cheek. "What about Wash?"

As soon as he made contact, Wash gasped and jerked away. Felix laughed in a way that made Locus' hairs stand on end. He reached for Wash's face once again. Felix ran the back of his hand along the side of his face, much to Wash's displeasure. With one deft movement, Felix pulled the blindfold off Washington.

Locus clenched his fists as Felix snorted at Wash's reaction to the sudden revelation. Sharkface rolled his eyes and strode over to push Felix out of the way. Wash squinted up at him as a water bottle was pressed to his lips.

Felix shook his head and leaned back against the table. He regarded Locus with a look that he couldn't quite read. Locus stared right back, trying to convey his feelings to his captor.

Felix grinned as if he knew exactly what Locus was thinking. "Don't worry, you don't have to like us. You just need to sit here and look pretty until we get our money."

"My uncle won't give you shit," Wash spat out as Sharkface moved away from him.

Sharkface scowled at his shorter partner. "Don't antagonize them."

"What? I'm not allowed to have a little fun with this?" Felix smirked up at him, then over to Locus and Wash.

The sharp glare he got in return was a clear answer.

"Hey, Felix, right?" Wash spoke up, looking nervous as all attention was turned to him. "I, uh... Kind of need to pee."

Felix regarded Washington for a moment, then pulled a knife from what seemed to be nowhere. Locus sucked in a breath as Felix approached Wash, his left hand gripping his knife. In a few moments, Wash was unchained and Felix was leading him up the stairs.

Locus was left alone with Sharkface. They stared at each other with distaste until his captor sighed. "Are you uncomfortable?"

He kept his mouth shut, despite his aching head and sore wrists. Sharkface rolled his eyes in exasperation at Locus' stubbornness. "We'll move you and Washington to a more comfortable location once they get back."

Locus felt a wave of relief at the thought of getting out of the folding chair, but he refused to let it show on his face. There was no way he was going to give his captors the satisfaction of finding out anything about him. As long as he could help it, he wouldn't say a word in front of either of them.

The basement door opened up once again and Wash walked down first, with Felix's hand on his shoulder. Locus noted that the knife had been tucked away. Before they could get very far into the basement, Sharkface put his hand on Wash's shoulder, stopping them both in their tracks.

"I think it's time to put them in the spare room," Sharkface told Felix.

Felix looked slightly surprised. "Already?" He raised an eyebrow at Locus. "Wow, he must really like you."

Locus gave them both the hardest glare he could possibly manage. Sharkface just ignored the look and took over guiding Wash. As the two of them went back up the stairs and Felix removed Locus' restraints, Wash looked back over his shoulder to give Locus a sad smile. Locus felt his heart twinge with empathy at the sight.

"Alright, come on, Lo." Felix pulled Locus to his feet with surprising strength. Before Locus could even think about making a move, the sharp tip of Felix's knife pressed into the small of his back. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Locus didn't respond, he just forced himself to move forward. There was no point in getting himself injured in a situation where escape was unlikely. That didn't mean he had to enjoy it when Felix patted his upper arm. "Good boy." Just for that, he jerked his arm away. Felix simply snickered and pushed him forward.

The spare room was small, much smaller than the basement. However, the smell of mold was not present, so it was a step up. There were no windows and barely any furniture, only a twin sized bed with plain white sheets. The walls were a light grey and the carpet was a matted, filthy white and combined with the poor lighting, it gave the room a slightly depressing appearance.

Sharkface had chained Wash's right hand to the right bedpost. "Thanks," he said in a hoarse voice as Sharkface straightened up.

Felix gave Locus a light shove towards the bed. "Where should I put him?"

"Here," Sharkface grabbed Locus' arm and dragged him over to the bed. With one push, he sent Locus stumbling backwards, landing on the unoccupied section of bed that was next to the wall. Felix tossed him a set of handcuffs, which he caught deftly. Wash ducked to avoid Locus' elbow as he lashed out against Sharkface as he handcuffed his hand to the left bedpost.

He turned to leave, but Felix stayed to snicker at the two of them. "They make a cute couple, don't they?"

Wash turned his head away and Locus glared at the pair until they left the room, locking the door behind them. Once they were gone, Wash sighed heavily.

"My arm is going numb," he groaned, pulling lightly against the chains. The metal scratched against the beat up wood of the bedpost. "I'm sorry for being an ass kisser. I figured they're less likely to do anything bad if I was compliant."

Locus looked down at Wash, who was staring up at him with a worried expression, as if he was concerned he would be judged. Locus tried to give him a reassuring smile. "It's a good strategy. I'm just trying to avoid even looking at them."

"Hey, if we need to describe those assholes to anyone, I'll be the one to do it," Wash said as he nudged Locus in the ribs. Locus allowed himself a real smile as he leaned back against the pillow. Wash shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. It took a while for both of them to find a decent position to get some sleep in, but they eventually settled. Locus fell asleep to the sound of Washington's deep breaths.