Before We Met

Authors Notes: Warning (again), contains scenes of graphic torture and abuse.

The Strangers


It was a little ironic, Daniel reflected, that the Strangers found out the truth about his relationship with David so quickly after he went through the trouble of stealing his file. Perhaps he had roused their suspicion after all, or perhaps it was just the occasional check they had always done. Regardless of the reason, it had only been three days since the night at the hospital when he was faced with his worst fear.

"We had wondered where you'd been hiding, doctor." That voice, so well known, so abhorred, waking him from slumber. At first, Daniel thought it was a nightmare. Hoped, prayed that it was. But as his eyes flew open, as his lover sat up with a yell, he knew it wasn't.

Time was up.

He sat, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table and putting them on. "Mr -- Hand. I was just - "

"You know this is not permitted, doctor. Must We remind you the hard way?"

"Leave him alone." He felt his lover's arms slip around him from behind, holding him protectively, voice low and stern. "You have no right telling him what he can't do."

"Don't -" he tried, but the Stranger cut him off, turning his attention to the other man and regarding him curiously.

"Did he by chance tell you why this is not allowed?"

"Please -" Daniel tried, but was cut off again.

"You are Our experiment," the Stranger said plainly. "The doctor is tainting Our data."

The dark haired man was silent for a moment. "...Daniel? What does he mean?"

"It's not true," Daniel gasped, wanting more than anything for it not to be true. "Love, you are not -- an experiment..."

"It is true, and it is time to move on. Doctor, come."

"Don't go," David hissed in his ear, arms tightening around him. "Whatever is going on, I don't care. Just don't go to him."

"Doctor, need We remind you of the consequences of you disobedience?"

Daniel froze, mind flashing back to the woman from so long ago, innocent, killed as a lesson to him. Remembering all the blood. He started to pull away. "I'll come. Please... don't hurt him."

His lover drew a sharp breath. "Love, don't - "

"We tire of this," Hand said suddenly, and made a motion in the air. "Sleep."

Daniel felt a soft wave of disorientation, which was all he ever felt when they made the rest of the city sleep. David shuddered behind him, but then Daniel felt his arms tighten slightly around him, heard his voice, softly pleading. "Please don't go, don't give in to them, don't leave me...."

Hand stared at him sharply, as if blaming this hiccup in his abilities on Daniel's disobedience. "Sleep. Now."

And Daniel felt his lover relax, felt the arms around him fall away for good. Hand turned away, as cold as always, and Daniel felt more hatred for him in that moment than he ever had before. "Come doctor. You have delayed Us long enough."

He forced himself to move, to pull away. Resisting now was pointless. But if he hurried, if he was careful, perhaps Hand wouldn't see, wouldn't notice the ring.... He fumbled for his clothes, pulling them on quickly, slipping his hand into the pocket of his slacks and slipping the ring off discreetly. He slipped the chain off the bedside table, pocketing it as well. "Forgive me. I'm ready."

Hand gave a sharp nod and started for the door, Daniel following quickly. Behind him, the other two moved - who were they? Quick? Wall? Daniel had never cared to keep track - pulling clothes onto David, speaking to Hand in those horrid clicks.

He turned in alarm. "What are you doing?!"

"No more disobedience, Doctor. Come. You know that We must re-imprint him now," came Hand's sharp reply, and Daniel shut his mouth, feeling sick. Following him out of the apartment building, down into a quiet corner, where they opened a path to the Underneath. He glanced back a few times at the others, at David's body thrown over one shoulder, watching them walk, entirely helpless. Then he followed Mr. Hand onto a lift, leaving the others to take the next.

"Why not imprint him on the surface?"

"We will," Hand replied evenly. "But there are preparations to be done."

"What do you -- "

"We will not trust you to create his imprint. Too much, We think, temptation for you. So We will use one that has already been made."

Daniel stared at him in horror for a moment, trying to find his voice, grasping desperately at the hope that he didn't mean what he thought he did. "But... the only memories that have been processed are -- for the Murdoch experiment...."

"That is correct. He will be the perfect subject."

Daniel felt his stomach heave, tasted bile, and grabbed for the side of the lift suddenly, leaning over it as the remains of supper and who knew what else coming up. He felt the lift stop, and held on tighter, retching again and again until he was trembling and sweating, gasping for breath, with nothing left to vomit. There was a handkerchief in his coat pocket, and he blotted his lips with it weakly, still trembling, still clutching the rail tightly.

"Are you quite finished, Doctor? We have much to do."

He nodded slowly, weakly. "Please... please don't do this. I beg of you. I'm the one to blame, I went against -- your wishes. He knew nothing, don't punish him for what I've done!"

"Doctor, this is not a human court of law, this is a laboratory. We do not incur decisions based on guilt or deserving, a scientist like yourself should know that. He is Our subject, nothing more, nothing less."

Daniel shook his head, tears burning his eyes. "No. No, I - I won't imprint him, you can't make me - !" He looked up, fearfully, to find Mr. Hand watching him, with what could almost be a smirk on his face.

"Certainly, doctor. However, if We do not use the subject here, then he is of no further use to Us, and We will dispose of him."

"No - !" Daniel gave a soft sob despite himself, closing his eyes against the helplessness, the hatred he felt. "Please...."

"Then We will continue with the experiment. At least, as soon as We have finished dealing with your disobedience." With that, the lift started moving again, and Daniel could only stand there, completely devoid of hope.

They reached the center of the underneath in very little time, and Daniel followed Mr. Hand silently, miserable, trying very hard not to think of David being given that imprint, that despicable imprint. He didn't notice the strange frame-like structure that had been tuned, anchored firmly to the floor, not until Mr. Hand turned to yank off his coat, strip him of the vest and shirt, buttons popping off with the lack of care, scattering, bouncing on the hard metal floor. He closed his eyes and didn't fight it, not even when his hands were yanked up above his head and tied tightly, anchored to that beam. Pulling him up to balance precariously on his toes, his arms and spine aching from the strain, the cold of the Underneath sinking into his bones. They would beat him, but he was used to that. He could endure. None of it would be as painful as losing David.

They did nothing, however, and he hung there for a long moment in silence, wondering, trembling with the uncertainty of not knowing what would happen, stomach twisting into knots of nausea. Then he heard the movement of the wheel in the center of the room, and looked up to find his lover, awake but groggy, being strapped to it. He felt a jolt of terror. "David?"

Green eyes met his, lips parting, gasping. "Daniel!"

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, "I'm so -- very sorry, love...."

"Quiet." Mr Hand, insinuating himself in front of Daniel. "We have decided that you need a more visible reminder of who you are and who you must obey, doctor."

"Why is he here?! This is my fault, please -- don't hurt him!"

"If you behave yourself, there will be no need for Us to harm the subject." Mr. Hand caught up a piece of metal that stood leaning up against the frame he was tied to, a long pole with a piece of curled metal on the end. He held it up, the spiral just in front of Daniel's bare chest, and Daniel saw, felt reality shift, saw the metal grow red, steaming, felt the intense heat on his skin.

The terror of the realization of what they planned to do hit him like a blow, making him jerk against the bindings on his wrists, terror rushing icy cold over his skin. "God - no! No no no, god -- no, please no...!"

He could just see David behind the Stranger, struggling against the bindings of the wheel, jerking at the leather, yelling. "What are you doing to him? Leave him alone! Daniel!"

"Gag him," Hand said simply, with a little dismissive gesture and one of the others with him moved to the wheel, doing as he asked, forcing a wad of leather between his teeth, buckling it in place. The other disappeared somewhere behind Daniel, and the doctor shuddered, trying to move back away from the red hot metal, trying to find purchase on the floor with his toes.

"Please don't!" he gasped again, and Hand narrowed his eyes.

"You will stop fighting Us, or We will dispose of him."

Daniel choked back a sob, tried to push away the wave of terror that overtook him, his body shivering helplessly, uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and tried to find his voice again, words a soft, trembling moan. "I -- understand."

"Good. This will only take a moment." He lifted the steaming metal higher, and dispassionately pressed it into the center of Daniel's chest.

Searing pain shot through him, indescribably nightmarish burning agony, and Daniel realized he was screaming, trying to pull away, but there was another piece pressed to his back, white hot torture, indescribable between his shoulder blades, far worse than their knives or their blows. He smelled charcoal and sulfur and a thick, perfumy grease, and mercifully, the world around him went black.


He woke up to intense, burning pain, to the familiar acidic reek of the ammonia they'd used to wake him under his nose, burning his esophagus, making his already fragile lungs contract and spasm into a fit coughing. He struggled to pull breath, his muscles spasming, trembling helplessly, the world swimming around him with the combination of it all, and between coughs, he could hear a ragged, keening cry of pain that he realized was coming from his own throat. The fire on his skin was too intense, too overwhelming, and he felt his stomach flip with the agony, and struggled to move from the bindings at his wrists enough to vomit, gagging, choking on bile.

He heard a soft noise of annoyance, and the bindings around his wrists disintegrated, letting him fall hard to the metal floor. He hardly registered the dull pain of the fall, his body caring only about expelling the acid from his lungs, from his throat, holding himself up on shaking arms as he gagged and purged until he could finally breath again in short, sharp gasps. Then ice cold hands pressed to the center of his chest and back, pulling him upright on the floor, igniting searing pain, and he screamed again, but when they pulled away it faded to a dull, thrumming ache, and slowly he was able to think again, fingers clenched at the grating under his hands, cold air touching the sweat on his bare torso and arms to chill him.

He heard the sound of muffled yells, and lifted his head towards the wheel to find David watching him with such a look of sorrow and absolute horror in his eyes. He glanced down to his chest with a shudder of revulsion, his skin red and shiny, bubbled and puckered from the now half-healed burn that spiraled above his sternum, and he felt his stomach churn again, tasted the remnants of bile in his mouth. "Oh god...."

"Stand up, Doctor. There is work to be done."

He let cold hands catch his arms, haul him to his feet, and managed to stay standing, swaying a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist and managing to answer. "I -- understand." It seemed even harder to breathe now than before, and he fought to regulate it, fought to push back the blackness that swarmed at his vision.

"Good. Now imprint." A syringe was pressed into his hand, filled with white liquid, and he looked down at it in confusion. This wasn't a complete imprint, there were no memories inside, just the base, the chemical to erase the previous imprint. "I didn't -- this isn't..."

"This is for you, Doctor. Imprint, please."

His fingers clenched around the syringe, and he felt himself sway again, blackness passing over his eyes, felt his knees weaken, and a wave of despair washed through him. He'd thought they were finished with him, thought the punishment was complete. He should have known that they would not be so forgiving. He remembered well the feeling of horror the first time he'd been forced to erase his memories, the darkness, the desolation. He couldn't do it again, not now, and his voice came out in a soft, helpless moan. "No..."

One of them moved behind him and caught him, cold hands clenched on his shoulders, keeping him steady on his feet. Mr. Hand spoke again, voice cold. "We cannot allow the risk of human emotion influencing your work, doctor. You must remember nothing of this... indiscretion. Imprint now."

"Please," he gasped with a sob, body trembling, unable to process the despair of this reality, of having this happiness, these beautiful memories completely erased. The thought of it was worse than the burn, worse than anything else they could do to him. "Please don't -- take this from me. It's all I -- have. I beg of you!"

"Do not try Our patience any longer, Doctor. Do as We say or it will result in this one's death, yes?"

It was useless fighting it, it always had been. What would they understand of love or need or emotion? What would they understand of his agony, his loneliness? He lifted the syringe slowly with shaking hands, trying to steel himself, to stop the helpless sobs, reaching for strength he didn't have. But he had to do this. He was the one that had brought this on himself, and he wouldn't let them do anything more to the dark haired man - to his David, because of it. He cast his gaze one last time to where his lover was still bound to the wheel, meeting his gaze helplessly. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I love you, always -- please remember, no matter what --"

"Now, Doctor!" Came the barked order, angry, and Daniel turned his gaze back to him, glaring.

"I'll do it!" he snapped, lifting the syringe to his forehead, steadying it with one hand and plunging it home, pulling the trigger through the stabbing pain. A rush of images passed before his eyes - his time with David, then Michael, then Anthony, kisses and touch and emotions draining away, memories disappearing into the blackness of nothing.


Daniel had met, and loved, John Murdoch many times over long before he was called John. But John would never remember it.

And neither would Daniel.

~~~TBC~~~