//𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (Lee Christmas x Reader)

eight.

You did not show up within the hour, so the guys packed their shit and did as Barney said, even though they didn't want to.

They settled the hostages in the living area, giving them the few extra cots. The woman would have to sweat out her fever for a little bit longer, but at least they had painkillers to try and help the process along.

They didn't speak much as they restocked and hurried back to the rendezvous, blindly hoping you'd be sitting there all angry at them for leaving without you.

But it was empty. Nobody was there.

Lee dropped his head to his hands and thought back to the night before and the gentle, careful way you had told him you loved him. His name like a prayer on your lips, a secret shared between you both.

—-

You were hanging with your arms stretched above your head, your shoulders sore and aching. You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you had a splitting headache and could taste the blood that had been pooling and slowly dripping from your mouth. You spit towards the ground, your throat scratching at the sudden movement, and the scratchy, dry rope holding you up dug into your skin.

You figured you'd kill whoever put you there, and you wouldn't think twice about it. The first step would be getting out, but from the way the sharp fibers of the rope were cutting and burning at your skin, it would probably be easier said than done. That, and they had taken your shoes. Running barefoot against the sun scorched earth would probably cause a few burns, but it was nothing you couldn't handle- nothing you weren't prepared to do for the sake of getting back to the team and finishing the job and going the hell home.

You wondered if Gunner had made it back with the hostages. In your mind, you could picture the frail woman, her face hollow and slick with fever, looking to you like you were heaven-sent.

But you were not an angel, just a soldier. And you were just doing your job.

She had reminded you of all of those other women, tormented and beaten senseless by the men you were collecting intel on so long ago. It brought the taste of bile into the back of your throat, and maybe you would've vomited had gravity not been forcing every inch of you down. She had that same, desperate look in her eye- a fire fighting against too much oxygen, waving and pleading with the earth not to put her out. You figured, if Gunner had gotten her to the team safely, the job was successful, and you could be content. Dying for a job had always been an unspoken concept among the expendables; the team and the job came first, and sometimes that meant putting your own life second.

Maybe you had put your own life third, or fourth, or fucking sixtieth, but you always put the job and the team first. They were number one, and you had done it. As long as Gunner had gotten back, you had done it.

There was the sound of some mumbled words in that language you didn't know and you tensed, eyes wandering up from the ground to search the room. There was a doorway with no door, the wall cracked and crumbling around it, and the sun was dull and orange in the places it broke through and shined onto the floor.

A man walked in, draped in cloth over deep skin. He had a handsome face- muscular, sure of himself, maybe a hair forgiving. He placed his gun down on a surface near the door and studied you, crossing his broad arms over his chest, shimmering with sweat when the sun would catch him just right. You clenched your jaw, eyes heavy and sore, begging for relief.

"You speak English, yes?" He asked eventually, stopping a few feet in front of you, looking you up and down. His voice was deep an accented, but his words were clear and unmistakable. You placed the voice as the one who had spoken when you were captured, and you looked down to his knuckles. He hadn't been the one to punch you, but he had been the one to order it.