Archive of Our Own ^beta

Oroboro
by Vanessa S. Quest

There was an awful repetition in what Jonny was seeing, on his knees, in the mud, his father similarly detained ten feet away. He was trying desperately not to cry, even with his hands bound behind him and a pistol pressed to the back of his head he pulled the last inklings of stoicism and restraint.

It was a sick game to the goons holding them like this. A sick game he’d already had to play once before and had lost terribly. He didn’t know how these monsters had found him again nine years later, let alone why they felt the need to do this to his family, again.

Jonny felt sick to his stomach though the only tell he’d give was the involuntary pallor he’d picked up. He had his tracker on, the distress beacon signaling Race—miles away on an errand—of the terror he and his dad were living through. Oh god he hoped that was the truth... living through meant surviving.

“Dr. Quest, we’re going to ask you a series of questions. Answer them satisfactorily, and I send the round into the ground instead of your son to it.”

He swallowed thickly, looking at his dad full of regret. He never told his dad exactly how his mother died. The shame he’d carried when she had begged and pleaded with her murderers to aim the revolver at her and not at Jonny... He trembled just as stuck in that moment from years past than the current one. After all, the questions were never what mattered. It was the responses that did.

“What is the combination to your laboratory’s safe in the Florida compound? A colleague of mine will be fact checking in real time.” She smiled, clicking back the hammer to the revolver.

His mother’s murderer still smelled the same. She smelled of rose water and salt. Not from sweat, either, but some pink clarifying salt as if anything she could do could purify her after taking his mother out of the world. His dad was babbling, throwing as much information as he could out there. He flinched as the trigger pulled – the nose still pressed to his head. He emitted a small, panicked gasp before flaring his nostrils to breathe deeper.

“I TOLD YOU THE COMBINATION!” Benton screamed.

“To the wrong safe, Doctor. Really, do try to focus, this was a free round.” The woman caressed Jonny’s face with the muzzle of the bull-nosed revolver.

Oh god, he recognized that gun, it was the one that... he forced his eyes shut.

...His mom was screaming out answers too, anything she thought she could barter or sell to keep him safe. Did she know the cost was going to be her own life?

“Same question—to the large blue safe in your laboratory in Florida.” She responded, her fellow henchmen held the man’s arms back fiercely, a hand in his hair pulling his head up to look at the woman speaking and not to look at his son though his eyes flitted back and forth between them both.

He spat out the combination like it was nothing. The safe that housed all of his current notebooks. How many ideas, finished or half-fleshed were even in there? Jonny could just imagine the problems these people could unleash by perverting them.

His shoulders jumped as the gun dry-fired into the ground beside him. He locked eyes with his dad, pain evident there deeper than he’d thought his dad would really understand. Two blank. When he’d last played this game, she had three bullets in the gun. What would she take next?

“How much money do you have at hand in your Florida estate? Locations too.”

“...About $50,000 in petty cash. Easily $200,000 worth of jewelry, textiles, and fencible goods.” He said readily. It included the majority of his wife’s jewelry, a handful of watches... fine china, and even crystal glassware. “The cash is in a false compartment in the master suite along with the jewelry and watches. Textiles, glassware—valuables like that are throughout the home, curtains, bedding—artwork... it’s packed away in place, so kitchen, bar cabinetry...”

Another click of the gun came beside Jonny’s thigh, another dry shot.

“How did your wife die?” She smiled.

Jonny turned his head away from his dad to look at the woman only to see the gun pressed against his cheek to steer him to looking forward again.

“She was shot twice.” He said, sickened.

The woman twirled the gun, “...And?”

“...and?” He raked his mind trying to think of what sort of detail this mad woman wanted, “...What are you asking me for? I’ll tell you but I need the full question! Please!”

“And why was she shot, Dr. Quest?” She rolled her eyes impatiently. “I’ll remind you, I require satisfactory answers, not half-baked ones.”

“...I... I don’t fully know that, we suspected it was an attempted ransom to get at something I was working on but we never knew the full reason!”

The woman tapped the back of Jonny’s head with the gun, “Is that true, young man? You were there after all, you don’t know the full reason?”

The boy’s lips trembled before he moved his eyes up to his dad’s, horrified.

“Jonny! Tell her son—whatever she asks, just tell her, I beg of you!”

The boy swallowed back hard, “...She didn’t know how to get UNIC to open... to her code... that... that was the first question she couldn’t answer.” He shivered, “...and then... then she couldn’t remember...”

He gagged, the whole scene was just as fresh then as it was now, “...couldn’t remember how to bypass your clearance passwords...”

“...And?” She coaxed.

The boy’s face was wet with tears. “Please don’t... please...”

She clicked the hammer back, “Fucking tell him.”

Jonny tucked his chin into his chest, his eyes squeezed shut in horror, “...and you shot her in the head... with that gun.”

She glanced back up to Dr. Quest as the man blanched as she fired the empty chamber into his son’s head. “Oh, you are so very lucky aren’t you, young man?”

His father was pulling wildly against the men restraining him, “HE TOLD YOU!”

“No, he did not. You want to know why your wife died, Dr. Quest? Jonny and I are in the best place to tell you, and even if he’s going to be a dishonest turnip doesn’t mean I will be. She died because she begged for it. Didn’t she Jonny?”

Jonny gave a meek nod into his chest.

“And why did she do that you’d naturally ask... it’s because she knew she couldn’t answer the question and your son was the one who was supposed to take the round.”

Dr. Quest’s arms went limp along with most of his upper body. “Jonny... why didn’t you ever tell me...?”

The teen kept his eyes squinted shut, the roar of blood in his ears drowning out the outside world leaving him alone in the guilt of knowing he’d killed his own mom.

Blue eyes raked over the boy’s features, he’d known his son had seen it, that horror had been clear, but to know he’d also endured a similar torture? His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the woman who’d taken so much.

“Dr. Quest, tell me all the ways in which Jonny here is a disappointment.” She clicked back the hammer readying her shot.

His mouth opened and closed, flabbergasted, but she’d already fired one shot at his son’s head, he couldn’t chance there being a live round! “He’s a slob. He’s lazy—doesn’t apply himself the way he should...”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Oh for crying out loud, he’s a teenager, you have to dig deeper than that. You just learned he lied to you about how your wife died...”

Benton gulped down, “Of course it’s his fault! If Rachel hadn’t been with him she’d have been able to escape you... I have no doubt about it.” He spun, lying through his teeth to find anything to save his son. “He’s a constant reminder of the life I should have had with the woman I loved... and instead it’s him.”

The woman let out a sickening cackle, engorging herself in the boy’s shrinking ego before her. She pointed the gun to Jonny’s side, a loud crack of a shot hit the ground.

Benton’s body shook in pure terror, that witch would have just shot him dead!

“Last round I suppose. This one will go to Jonny. Who would you rather I shoot—your dad- an accomplished, respected and contributing member of society, or you? The person he blames for the death of your mother.”

Jonny’s eyes shot wide open.

“You don’t even have to say it out loud—if you want me to shoot your dad, look at him, if you want me to shoot you, just turn to face me.”

“JONNY! Jonny LOOK AT ME!” Benton demanded. “Son, please son—PICK ME!”

The teen turned slowly toward the woman and the barrel of the gun, silent rivers of tears running down his face.

“Jonny—no, don’t... Jonny, please!” Dr. Quest’s voice trilled as he pulled with all his might, after the feign of losing strength he pulled free of the men pinning him.

The woman laughed, “Let him go, see if he can make it before the shot does...”

Benton reached his bound hands forward just mere inches from reaching the teen as the shot rang out and Jonny fell back, face red.

The utter horror of seeing red flow freely in the air made Benton collapse to his knees, cradling the boy’s head and shoulders, as much as he could grip with his own bound hands.

“Oh, look at that, the last one was a rubber bullet this time.” She laughed. “Well, our little game is completed, as is our transaction. Time to go.” She holstered the emptied gun and pulled out a pistol with a magazine clip.

“Jonny!” Dr. Quest patted the boy’s face, while the damage was nothing like a metal bullet, the close range of the rubber bullet had torn a gash into his forehead and was producing a deep flow of red. “Son, son hold on!”

With his eyes shut loosely, and lips parted ever so slightly, Dr. Quest could still see the telltale rise-falls of his son’s chest as he continued to breathe unimpeded.

“Son, please wake up... please... I was lying... you’ve never been a disappointment to me in your whole life... please wake up!” the older man sobbed.

He reached for his son’s belt buckle to give him some sort of pry to undo his own binds before untressing his wrists.

It had to be minutes when Race had arrived, calvary there but late. Very, very late, Benton noted as he put pressure on his son’s bleeding wound, his eyes fluttering without any real traction, but with a second set of hands he was finally able to undo the teen’s constraints too.

Race pulled the boy up in his arms as he rushed him away from this perpetual nightmare, at least the physical location of it. Race wasn’t so naïve as to think there was a place to run from. He’d heard what Dr. Quest had said, and all the implications that went with it... That Jonny’d seen his mother die, but far more than that—that he actively had to participate in the trap that cost her her life. He understood how the boy would never have been able to look at his dad, his greatest pain in life to date had been to lose his mom—to willfully orphan himself? Especially when given an out... that he was somehow less worthy, Race had known it before he could even reach them that he was going to make a sacrifice play.

“Doc, his pulse is strong. He’s going to pull through this.” Race stated firmly, more to issue the order, after all Jonny had always been a good kid who tried to please his family.

The man racked a sob, “He has to be... he has to... I have to explain...”

-JQ-

He recognized the blue room as he regained focus. His bedroom was stagnant, the air felt heavy as he tried to regain the last fleeting memories before he’d gone under.

The woman who’d haunted his dreams since he was 7 years old chased him in circles along with his own sense of inadequacy. He wondered if his dad wasn’t in here because he couldn’t stand the sight of him, or if something worse had happened. The idea that it was for naught—that his dad was dead made his sense of panic creep up faster and faster matching in strides with his ever-quickening breath.

“Kiddo...?” Race knocked on the door gently, pushing it open. “Hey there, you’re finally waking up huh?” He smiled in calm composure knowing he’d have to take it slow and easy.

“...Dad? Is dad...?!”

Race put a comforting hand over the boy’s shoulder, “He’s here. You know how he gets when he’s stressed, he needed to tinker while you were sleeping...” He tried to placate.

Truth was, the good doctor hadn’t been able to force himself to sleep since his son had been rendered unconscious. The closest Race could get the man to a break or a nap was with building something in the lab.

“Are you thirsty? I could get you something to drink and get your dad in here... I know he wants to talk with you awful bad.”

“...he must hate me...” The boy mumbled.

“He doesn’t. Not at all, tell you what, I’ll get him in here and let you two talk for a bit, and then you and me can catch up once I can convince him to take a power nap.”

“You don’t understand... I killed my mom...” the boy let out a sob before curling into himself, “He has to hate me, it’s all my fault!”

“IRIS, let Dr. Quest know Jonny’s up, thank you.”

Jonny shivered.

“Kiddo, I know you’re hurting right now, in a lot of ways... but I promise you, no one hates you here, no one blames you here, and the only thing remotely getting you on your dad’s bad side was you didn’t listen to him when he told you to look at him... but you know what? I think he knows why you did what you did anyway. He’s pretty good at reading situations.”

Before Race could finish his thought, the door flung open, a squirrelly eyed Dr. Quest rushed to his son’s bedside.

“Jonny! You’re awake!” His hands immediately found skin, making physical contact as if to tell himself he was not hallucinating or dreaming, that he was really there and okay. He began to ply his face to inspect it over and over again. “My boy... my sweet little boy...”

“...D...dad?”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Jonny!” He decided to pull him into a protective hug, he cradled the back of the boy’s head and shoulders while pinning them together. “I thought I lost you...”

“...I’m sorry dad...” his voice had somehow shrank as he burrowed his head deeper into his dad’s chest as his tears became torrential, “Mom... it was all my fault... I’m so, so sorry!”

“No, Jonny—no it wasn’t. The things I said—I didn’t say them because they were true, I said them so she wouldn’t hurt you. We never knew you’d seen so much... and it was so hard for you to talk about it... it wasn’t your fault. You were a little boy. You’re my little boy. And I love you so, so much...”

“You really don’t hate me...?”

“Never. I could never hate you.” He soothed. He rocked the teen, the cyclic rhythm of soothing unintelligible nightmares, trying to bring him out of the spiral in his mind and into the reality at hand—that his son was precious to him, he knew he’d have to find a way to spoil the boy some more to readily reinforce it.

He considered breaking out some horses, the idea of something living a deep comfort given what they’d both just gone through versus something mechanical in nature. But more than soothing his son’s hurt, he wanted to do one better—hunt the monster haunting him and put a stop to her once and for all. The idea of posing that question with his son so emotionally raw was out of the question though. “Is it okay if I just hug you for a while, son?”

“Mhmm...” The boy murmured, his fingers gripping the fabric of his father’s shirt.

“Good, but Race is right, you should drink something...”

“Don’t let go...” the boy asked, his eyes felt heavy, after several long moments Benton could hear mewling snores.

“I’d never.”

-End-