27Okay, I don't know what this is, really. I just felt like writing a scene like this.
He was fidgeting; she could see him wince every time the chains hurt his wrist. He looked scared, his eyes flashing from Sarah to the Fulcrum agent. Just like last time.
"Well, well," the agent said coldly. "It seems you've gotten into a bit of trouble," he said mockingly.
Sarah stared at him, her eyes screaming defiance and hate. Chuck's screamed nothing but terror.
"Now," he started, "I'm going to ask you this one last time: Tell me who the Intersect is."
"You'll never know who the Intersect is," Sarah said, glancing at Chuck who was just staring at the Fulcrum agent. Fear was still evident in his eyes.
The Fulcrum agent shook his head. "Too bad," he said sadly. Sarah saw a mad glint in his eyes now. She didn't like it. "I guess I'll have to make you talk in a very…special way," he said, sighing.
Chuck's eyes widened. They both knew what he was going to do. They saw him walking over a table with knives, syringes (which Chuck grimaced at immediately), and a variety of other torture instruments. He grinned as he took out a whip.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Is that a Fulcrum favorite?" she asked coldly. She saw Chuck twitch in what she figured was fear. She glanced at him and he looked angry, yet even more scared then before.
The Fulcrum agent glanced at her. "It seems to be, yes. That and knives," he added as an afterthought. "If you're lucky, you might get a taste of both."
"I'll be looking forward to it," Sarah said.
The Fulcrum agent approached them, and Chuck twitched again. The man cocked his head, like a child contemplating whether to get Rocky Road or Rainbow flavor ice cream. He smirked.
He walked towards Sarah, and Chuck twitched again. She saw his eyes widen, something flashing in them.
"The Intersect," he commanded.
"Never," was her short answer.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He raised his arms, ready to strike but was stopped by a voice.
"She doesn't know who the Intersect is, but I do."
Sarah closed her eyes in annoyance. Stupid Chuck! He always had to be that guy.
"That's not true," she said, managing to keep the desperate tone out of her voice. "He's the one who doesn't have a clue."
The Fulcrum agent just looked at them both. He shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyways," he said. "At least one of you knows. And, fortunately for me, I know that if one gets tortured the other will talk. After all, who wants to see the person they love in pain? And don't deny it," he sneered at Sarah's mouth already forming a rebellious answer.
He laughed a cold, mad laugh. It was the kind that made you think he wasn't sane. Glancing at him, Sarah thought he probably wasn't.
"I've been watching you for over a month, you know," he said. "I'm a Psychologist by the way," he said offhandedly. "I know what I see."
He walked towards Sarah again but stopped and walked towards Chuck. Sarah's eyes closed tightly, but opened to look at Chuck. He looked…oddly satisfied. She had a pretty good idea why.
Stupid noble idiot, she thought.
Before she could react, she heard the whip colliding with Chuck's skin through his too-thin T-shirt and saw the blood seep through. She heard a grunt of pain, heard her own scream.
The agent knew that Chuck would probably crack at any given time, or that she would. She would gladly tell the Fulcrum agent who the Intersect really was if she could. But she couldn't. If she did, Chuck would be in a much worse position. She looked at Chuck and his eyes met hers. He knew this too.
"The Intersect?" the agent commanded once again.
With his eyes still locked to hers, Chuck responded in a low, cold voice. "Never," he said, echoing Sarah's words.
More screams (from her), more defiant answers were heard within the next couple dozen minutes. The agent was getting restless. He thought that the stupid weakling would have broken down by now. Sarah did too.
But he didn't; he would grunt and wince in pain, but not once did he scream, not once did he plead for the man to stop. She felt the wetness on her face and realized she was crying. She moved her gaze from the floor to Chuck; she had to hold down a sob that wanted to escape her throat. His shirt was bathed in his own blood, his hair was plastered onto his face with sweat, and as she looked into his eyes, she saw the barely hidden pain there.
He was hurting. He was hurting for her.
A whimper escaped her throat as she looked at the floor, feeling helpless. She realized that she had hurt him in so many ways, emotionally and now, physically. But she knew that he did it gladly, did it because he wanted to. And that was what hurt her the most.
How could he just take blows that were supposed to have been inflicted on her?
She looked up at him, his gaze met her crying eyes and in that moment, she let herself finally say what she had known but never admitted, not even to herself: She loved Chuck Bartowski. Another whimper escaped as her throat betrayed her once more, and she vaguely heard the man asking her something but she didn't respond. She heard Chuck's response, his voice strained, asking the man something.
"Don't you think she would've told you by now if she knew? She knows nothing," he said, his voice getting softer but it still rang crisp and clear in the empty warehouse. "It's me you want to ask."
The man turned to Chuck. "I would've though you would have said something about now."
Chuck glared at their foe, but his eyes unfocused for a half of a second, something that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else, but not to her. Sarah found that slightly alarming, having just realized how much blood he had lost.
The agent nodded. "I'll give you credit," he said after a moment of silence. "You've lasted longer than I though you would."
"I know I look weak but don't insult me," Chuck said coldly.
The man shrugged. "Well, since you won't say anything," he said, "I'll think I'll give your girlfriend a shot."
Chuck growled. "Do not touch her."
The man took out a knife and smirked, "Unfortunately, you don't make the rules here; I do Mr. Carmichael. Or is it Bartowski? With us agents, we don't really know each other's real names."
"It's neither," Chuck responded, keeping his timing just right so as to not be suspected of lying. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble."
The man laughed, "I like you – the girl too. But, sadly, since you won't cooperate, I'm going to try your lover here. Maybe you'll speak when you see her soaking in her own blood."
Fear flashed in Chuck's eyes, something that didn't go unnoticed by Sarah or the Fulcrum agent.
The man smirked, "Are you scared your pretty little princess will get hurt?" he asked scornfully. "Don't worry," he said. "Her face won't end up that bad."
The man was now in front of Sarah. She showed no signs of fear when he took his knife and stroked her cheek softly, except disgust and anger. She grimaced but didn't move; she felt sick to her stomach. He applied the tiniest bit of pressure, causing a line of red liquid to form on Sarah's cheek.
Chuck looked on, the beginning of torture that would probably be much worse than his. He felt dizzy; he didn't know if it was from the blood loss or the image of Sarah, lying in a puddle of red, dark liquid that his mind had conjured.
What he said was a reflex, something instinctual.
"Stop. I'll…I'll tell you who the Intersect is."
The man and Sarah snapped their attention to him. Sarah's eyes widened; he looked serious. "No, Chuck, please," Sarah pleaded.
The Fulcrum agent ignored her and looked at Chuck. He laughed. "Who would've though all I had to do was make a tiny little cut on the girl here and you would've caved? That would've saved me a lot of time. But then again, where's the fun in that?"
Chuck grimaced. He opened his mouth but was stopped by Sarah.
"No, Chuck! Please, you can't," she whispered.
The man turned to look at her, but she was still looking at Chuck. His eyes shifted to the right quickly, so fast she almost didn't see it. But she did.
"Shut up and let the man talk here," he said, and there were a few moments of silence. She could see the man getting impatient, and she knew Chuck saw it too. She saw Chuck open his mouth.
"I'm the Intersect."
Author's Note: Yeah, I'm sorry if this is OCC. I wrote this but have no idea what to do with it. I posted it up here so that you can tell me how I can improve this type of writing. I'm not good with action, which is why I write all that mushy romance (or angsty romance).
Review and tell me what you think. Again, sorry if it was OOC.
Disclaimer: I truly wish I could say I own this, but I don't. I do own a rather awesome owl named Michael though! Okay, he's a stuffed owl, but he's still awesome. (I know. I'm crazy.)