InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You have the Internet Disease."

Chuck Shurley: that beardy dude with the laptop. (capriciousgod) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-06-02 01:15:00

Entry tags:

andy gallagher, chuck shurley

Who? Chuck & Andy (+ background!Wolf!Anna)
What? Captivity blues~ (unfortunately without actual blues)
Where? A basement! (somewhere outside Lawrence~)
When? ~~Who knows?~~ Tonightish? Tomorrowish? (time is complicated when you're stuck in a basement for days)
Why? Because (of reasons)
Status? Incomplete (in progress!)

Chuck wanted to go home. He’d started to lose track of how long he’d been here - at least, the first part of it had been confusing and blurry, between the tail end of the visions, the couple drinks he’d had before he’d been taken, and the painkillers he’d thankfully had on him when he’d gotten shoved in a basement (dry-swallowing them was kind of obnoxious, yes, but at least it was something), things had kind of been a little vague. He knew it had been days. He knew he felt like crap. He knew there was a wolf in a cage in here, and he knew Andy had been brought in.... yesterday? Two days ago? Time was too hard to follow; it didn’t really even matter down here.

Out there, it did. He knew Jo probably knew how long it had been. Jo probably knew how many hours it had been, keeping track because she was probably panicking - ~~if she was still alive, or un-kidnapped, what if~~ - and looking for him, he reminded himself. His extremely badass wife was totally out there looking for him. He was going to be fine. Yep.

Plus, wouldn’t the angels have stepped in, if he were in serious danger? At least, that’s how he understood this whole Archangel on my shoulder thing to work - which meant he really was going to be okay. It was just, you know, he wasn’t exactly okay right now. He missed Jo. He missed the girls. He missed being somewhere well-lit and he missed his bed and food and proper plumbing and feeling safe. He’d been fighting down panic since he’d suddenly found himself not alone anymore (before then, yeah, he’d let himself freak out, shut down in a corner and had to fight not to hyper-ventilate and pass out because suddenly it felt like his lungs weren’t getting air, they were taking in fear itself which was stupid-dramatic to even think, but that’s what it was like), trying to pretend like this wasn’t even more terrifying than the last time he’d found himself kidnapped...

....aaaand now he was thinking about that time, and this time, and, okay, nope, he was never leaving the Roadhouse again, once he got out of here. If he got out of here. What if the angels didn’t care what happened to him anymore, and that was why they hadn’t stepped in - not because he was safe? What if Jo never found him - or found him too late? How long did it take for people to die of starvation or dehydration? He couldn’t remember, he knew he used to know (research, writers know all kinds of irrelevant information until it becomes relevant and then it’s gone, of course it is, because that’s just his luck), and somehow the building panic apparently had cut the filter between his brain and his mouth, because there were words tumbling out of his mouth before he even had time to decide not to ask stupid pointless morbid questions.

“How long do you think it'll be before we just shrivel up and die down here?”

(Post a new comment)

brain_ninja
2012-06-02 05:48 am UTC (link)

If boredom was the only thing Andy had to worry about, being stuck in a basement with Chuck and Anna — even if she was in her wolf form, which was slightly unsettling — wouldn't really have been so bad. But, Andy new better. First of all, his fucking head hurt. Whoever had taken him had done him dirty and knocked him out from behind with a blow to the back of his head that still hurt like a motherfucker even a day or two later. He'd sort of lost track of time. Florence was going to kill him if he ever made it out of here, secondly. He'd promised her he'd be safe and he really shouldn't have been smoking up knowing that he would get a Taco Bell craving to end all cravings if he did...and knowing himself well enough to know that he'd indulge it, no matter what the dangers outside.

Thirdly, the part that upset him the most, was knowing that Charlie would've noticed his absence by now. She'd be worrying and probably setting things on fire, if he knew her at all. They'd just had a conversation about this, one of them being sent back through the Seal, a short while ago. It was just as likely that he'd been sent back to death in 2007 as it was that he was among the ever-growing number of missing people in Lawrence and Andy knew that Charlie was smart enough to know that. He hoped she was looking for him, anyway. Because really...Chuck was getting on his fucking nerves.

"Dude," he snapped, frowning. "You don't even want the answer to that, so why ask?"

Chuck had been there when Andy woke up. How much longer the other man had been stuck in this musty ass basement was beyond him, so he could understand where Chuck was coming from, but that didn't make the morbidity of the question any less goddamn obnoxious.

"Hey," he called out, looking away from Chuck and toward the men standing guard. Men was using the term loosely, Andy thought, since they looked like high school linebackers at best. "Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, think maybe we could get a little fuckin' grub?" he asked, snapping his fingers at them. "How about some water?"

He'd given up trying to mind-control them into letting the three of them out, because whoever had them already was stronger than Andy was. His eyes moved back to Chuck. "Think we could take 'em if I distracted 'em?" he asked under his breath. "Or, hey, what if we spring her?" he asked, "sic her on 'em. Think we could get out then, bro? Because, to be honest, I'm fucking bored, I'm fucking hungry, and my ass hurts from sitting on it forever but I'm sick of pacing. Whaddya think?"

(Reply to this)