The Way We Talk

Trust (Little Talks #6)

Prompt:  "You're scaring me."

By the time they shove Thea into a different room in the ruined building, she already knows that whatever is happening isn't good.  The masked men don't hesitate to handle her roughly, indicating that ransom isn't really on their minds.  And, if they're so cavalier about her treatment, God only knows what they're doing to Oliver.  It's funny, but she isn't scared for herself now—she's scared for him.

She can hear the rusted metal door slam shut behind her while she squints into the darkness of the room, eyes still adjusting to the distinct lack of light.  The only thing she knows is that it's similar in layout to the grungy holding cell she was formerly a guest of, with two columns running from floor to ceiling and a makeshift bed in one corner.  The building feels surprisingly industrial, but there are many industrial areas of Starling City, so that hardly helps her to discern her location.

Abruptly, she's forced into a wall, one arm behind her back, the other pinned between her ribcage and the wall.  She knows enough to know that the person holding her there is male and much bigger than her, all sharp lines and muscles.  The thought sends adrenalin roaring through her in fear, and without thinking, she jams one of her stiletto heels, and he grunts in pain but doesn't release his hold.

Another moment, and he moves away, as though he disappeared into the darkness.  "Thea?" he asks warily, and the voice that comes out surprises her.  It's Oliver, and he's safe.  She heaves a sigh of relief.  Why they suddenly decided to put her in a room with her brother, she doesn't know, but she's grateful to know she's near the one person in the building she cares about.

She instantly wraps her arms around his torso in a hug that's meant more for her comfort than his.  "Ollie, you're all right!" she breathes, her arms squeezing much too tight.  At the moment, she doesn't care about that; he's safe, they're together, and they're smart enough to figure a way out of this mess—she hopes.

He takes a moment to hug her, patting her back gently before pulling away abruptly.  It doesn't take her long to see why; she can barely make out a long line of red, sticky liquid staining his shirt.  Before he can say anything she reaches for him, asking, "What did they do to you?"  She pulls back his shirt to see bloody lines running alongside old scars, and it makes her heart hurt for him.

"It's fine," he assures her, his voice suddenly terse as he buttons his shirt again, and she remembers that he doesn't like people touching him.  She figures it's a thing he's developed since the island, so she doesn't really push it.  Something in his expression is calculating, and his eyes are dark in a way she's never seen before—and hopes never to see again.  When he finally speaks again, his voice is an octave lower, scary in a way she's not expecting.  "If they've moved you in here with me, it's probably to get me to talk."  Thea doesn't quite understand, so Oliver clarifies, "They plan to use you to get the information they want from me."  A shiver runs down Thea's spine as she understands the implications.

Finally, he draws a very logical conclusion, as impossible as it is simple:  "We need to get out of here.  Now."

To say that she doesn't understand is the understatement of the century.  "How?" she demands to know.  "They've got guards out there.  I've seen them, and we're not going to be able to get through guys like that."

Something flickers through his expression, and she thinks she's probably lost it because it looks like defeat—but then it's triumph.  "Tell me how the guards are positioned," he almost barks, not sounding anything like the brother Thea knows.  "What weapons are they carrying?  How many are there?"

She answers as best she can under pressure, all the while trying to unravel the insanity around her.  "Two," she manages after a very long moment, her voice strangled by the fear clawing at her.  Not fear for whatever hair-brained scheme her brother has come up with, but fear at the attitude he's displaying.  He's almost fearless—and that's the last thing she expects him to be.  "Two guards," she continues once her voice steadies, "one on either side of the door.  I didn't see any weapons, but it was dark, and..."

A glint of something akin to satisfaction lights his face again, but she doesn't have time to think about it.  He suddenly demands, "Stay back, but not too far.  I don't want them splitting us up again."

Before she can ask what he means—or what the hell he thinks he's doing—he's somehow managed to use part of the bed's frame as leverage to pry open the rusted door, and it swings open violently.  It slams into one of the guards, knocking him down and presumably incapacitating him.  Moving faster than Thea would have ever thought possible, he slams the other guard into the wall and throws a few lightning-fast punches with a lot of brute strength.  She's not sure exactly what happens, but the guys are on the ground and they aren't moving.  She hopes they're only unconscious because the other option is far worse to think about.

As soon as he ensures both guards are down for the count, he holds out his hand to her.  "Come on, Speedy," he says, sounding surprisingly calm for someone who just knocked out two guys.

She doesn't move.  "You're scaring me," she manages to whisper past the lump forming in her throat—which is still preferable to the ideas forming in her head.  He looks hurt at her admission, but he doesn't try to say anything.  Finally she dares ask, "Ollie, how—?"

He cuts her off, shaking his head.  "Not now, Thea," he says, serious but still gentle at the same time.  "I promise to explain it all later, okay?  But not now.  We need to go."  His tone on the last, emphasized word implies that he's not opposed to dragging her out, if necessary.

She's about to argue, to protest, to kick and scream and throw a fit.  But then she sees the fear, the concern, the outright panic warring in his features and she realizes he's just as afraid for her as she is for him.  He's rushing, panicking, because he knows she's not safe, and she can see, in that single moment, that he'll do anything to protect her.

And without hesitation, she places her hand in his.