Too Many Bloody Days Later

A/N: so, it's been fuck all since I've written just about anything, and I'm dying to let loose some steam. it's not that anyone is anticipating the progression of this story all that much, but I'd just like to get this fucker out of the way so I can do other things, you know? ...bah. whatever.

SUMMARY: something happens to Jim that will complicate things. West gets even more crazy (think about Christopher Eccleston's role in Shallow Grave, mixed with... I dunno...... Scarlet O'Hara..??)

DISCLAIMER: see first chapter (I'm getting sick of writing this every goddamned time. I should just stop giving a shit, and see what happens... at least I'll get some publicity if I have to go to court.)

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TOO MANY BLOODY DAYS LATER

Chapter 6: "The 'Pulp fiction pocket book'-moment"


Things were going swimmingly. The two soldiers, Clifton and Mitchell, had been taking Selena to Jim's room on a few occasions for the last few days, so that they could all discuss the escape. Though Hannah couldn't come, as it was too risky to bring both the girls out of their rooms at the same time, Jim was thrilled to finally see at least one of the girls. The first time Selena and Jim met after they were forced apart, their embrace lasted for several minutes. He smelled her hair and twined it around his fingers... It had gotten a lot longer, and wasn't as spiky and wild as it used to be. Jim told her that he'd been missing her, and he asked the soldiers whether she could stay in his room that night. "Absolutely not," said Mitchell. "We can't take that risk." Clifton agreed silently, but he said nothing - in fear of losing the little trust Jim had in him. He didn't want to be the bad one.

Selena didn't say much, she just stared at Jim for the longest time, giving him that warm smile of hers which he couldn't see often enough. Jim stroked her cheek. "Say something... Anything." Selena laughed. "I hardly know what to say, Jim... It's been so long, I had even forgotten how you looked." she rested her head on his chest, and Clifton saw Jim smiling for the first time in ages.


Mitchell had been sceptical of Jim ever since he arrived at the house, and when Clifton had earlier on broken the news to him about Jim coming along to flee with them, he was aggravated… to say the least. "He is not to be trusted!" he protested.

"Have you seen the bloke, he's as harmless as a fucking toddler!"

"I have a really bad feeling about this. I don't think we should bring him."

"So what do you suggest, that he stays here to be dogged by those fucking psychos while we run off??" As Mitchell never answered to that, he continued: "He's sure to be grilled about it, Mitch. Imagine the things they're capable of doing! ..Do you really have the heart to just leave him like that..?"

"Fuck, Clifton.... ok, whatever, he can come, but just so long as we keep an eye on him, yeah? I don't want him messing things up for us."

Clifton didn't answer, just gave his friend a slight nod, and as he sat there by the living room table, he wondered just how exactly Jim could "mess things up" for them.


A few days passed, and Jim had been left to himself a lot, apart from when food was brought to him. Clifton didn't stay for long even then, they merely exchanged a few words - usually about today's dinner (which really wasn't much, seeing as their food supplies were limited). The private had more important things to do, like discussing the escape with Mitchell and adjusting the surroundings so that their escape would be successful. Clifton was - despite his scruffy, misleading look - extremely pedantic, and the plan had to be flawless. Pampering Jim was the last thing on his mind... well, almost, anyway. He missed it, the awkward silence between them, but he had to look to more important matters now. Jim missed it, too, but he couldn't get himself to admit it. He reasoned that wanting company wasn't so unusual... the way he was living now - alone in a cold, dull room all day and all night, never speaking to anyone, his basic feelings being frustrated, depressed and worried - hell, that wasn't a life at all.


One late night, Jim was getting ready for bed. It was particularly cold in his room that night, but he still decided to remove all clothes but his underwear - as he always did when going to sleep. He had just started undressing by pulling off his large green army sweater, when he felt a pair of arms sliding around his waist. He hadn't heard anyone come in, and was taken completely by surprise. Wanting to find out who had trespassed within his safe circle, he tried to writhe out of the unpleasant grip. As he was shifting in this uninvited guest's arms, he heard a voice that intensified his already present goosebumps.

"Have you missed me...?"

Jim couldn't help gasping out loud. He really thought it was over, that he'd gotten rid of him - but here he was back again to make his life a living hell. He felt like crying in frustration, but was stopped by being spun violently around to meet the face of his attacker.

He stared into the face of West... And God, did he look like warmed over shit.

"It's ok, you don't have to answer... I've missed you, anyway." West's eyes were kind, yet intense and frightening, and they measured Jim. One of his arms were holding Jim uncomfortably close, while the other was raised up to Jim's face, the hand stroking the long, dark hair away from his forehead. The major's own hair had grown longer as well - despite West taking pride in his profession. His skin had lost all colour, and he had large, dark rings around his eyes. Jim was terrified by the looks of the man before him. He seemed fatigued and disturbed - the latter conclusion was drawn by the insane, bugged eyes.
It seemed West could no longer help himself, and started shivering. His intense stare was travelling all over Jim's body, as were his trembling hands. Not long after, he pulled the terror-stricken Jim into an unusually violent kiss. Hands fumbled over Jim's body, and found his arse, which was kneaded feverishly once found. Jim managed to tear himself out of West's grip, and backed a few feet away from the major, whilst giving him a stern look.

The major moved forward. "I haven't slept for days, Jim... All I think of, day and night, is you." He regarded Jim's half-naked body. "...And how fucking delicious you look without a shirt."

At that, Jim reached for the shirt, but West stopped him. His arm was in the firm grip of the major's strong hand, and Jim realized he was trapped, once again.

"Don't dress for me, my sweet... I've seen you indecent before."

Jim was in despair. What could he do, try to run for the door? It was no use, just a waste of time and energy, and would most probably lead to a beating. West was now hovering above him, and Jim refused to look him in the eye, let alone in the face. He turned away from the major's piercing stare, but West was tired of playing.

"Why do you do these things to me, Jim..? Don't you love me, is that it??"

Jim was unsure about what he meant – him being resolute in his dismissing of West’s affection for him hadn’t discouraged the major before – but he decided not to aggravate him further. Either way, he was panicking and couldn't even form sentences.

Never given any answer, West continued. "I watched him, going in and out of your room every day... I know what you two do in there Jim, I'm not a fool!! I know that he feeds you the table scraps, that's obvious! Else you wouldn't be alive..!" he shouted, grabbing Jim by the arm and shaking him. "But this I have to know, Jim," he said, bringing the young man closer to him. "...Why does he stay?"

Jim couldn't say anything, he hardly knew the answer to that himself. So he stayed silent.


West nodded. "I see, I see…"

The major released Jim, turned and took a few steps back. He found himself in the middle of the room, where he stood shuffling his feet and looking down at the expensive, once so cherished, hand made oriental carpet. In a display of emotions, he threw his arms in the air dramatically, and exclaimed: "What is it about me that repulses you so, Jim...?! WHAT?!!"

Jim, despite his terrified state of mind, thought it a very idiotic question to ask, seeing as West was - right now, anyway - looking like he'd been repeatedly hit by a truck loaded with cow dung.

The major approached him slowly, and Jim was looking down - still completely freaked out by the whole situation. Only when West was mere inches away from him, Jim dared to look up, and found that the major had calmed down considerably since the last time he had the guts to look upon the miserable face. West grabbed both his shoulders, and pulled him into a stiff embrace. Jim heard him smelling his hair.

"Come away with me, Jim," the major whispered into Jim's raven hair, his arms still wrapped around the thin frame. He then released the young man somewhat from his tight grip, but he was still holding on to him. West gave Jim a slight peck on the cheek, and said in a lower tone: "I want to leave with you, Jim. What do you say, hm? Think about it: just you and me in a nice little home somewhere... Not here, with these hooligans, in this big, nasty old house. It's so bloody depressive, don't you think?" Everything about this proposition was very common - if it had not been for the fact that they were two men, one under submission of the other, the other obsessed (and quite frankly, stark raving mad and looking like he'd been living in an Edinburgh pub's lavvy).

Jim must have looked quite troubled by the whole idea, because the major started reassuring him. "It's ok, we have the means to escape." The major thought about it for a bit. "Actually, I hardly think they'd mind if we left at all, I'm their superior, for chrissake..!" he said, followed by an annoyingly nervous laugh.

Stroking Jim's hair, he was getting calm again (West, that is... Jim, for his part, was still frozen) "..But oh, wouldn't it be wonderful though, just you and me..?" Jim thought him a love-struck teenager, but dared not to be vocal about it in front of this unstable officer. God knows what that man was capable of doing at this time... It made Jim pretty sick, though. He was definitely not used to being wooed.

Now West was anticipating an answer - hoping it would be something that could please his enormous ego. "What do you say??" he asked, nervously.

"...Ok then."

Despite the mediocre response, West threw his arms about Jim's waist, and hoisted him up in the air in sheer joy. "Oh, Jim! You've made me so happy...!" Jim felt as if he was a character in a seedy pulp fiction pocket book. It was making him nervous, because he knew what usually came after this.

"I want to wake up every morning to see those full, pink lips of yours..." the major whispered, and kissed Jim - who responded only half-heartedly to the would-be romantic kiss.


Oh yeah. It was coming now.

- The inevitable erotic scene.