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Snitch	By : Sadistic-uke Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2917 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do now own the character's, their names or appearances and I make no profit from this. I do not own Hetalia either.

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“Yeblya gryaznaya stukach! Sosatʹ.”

Matthew didn’t know what the words meant, but he could hear the threat behind the gruff Russian sounding words. He allowed the cold harsh hands to force him to his knees; the threat in the words was not the thing that had him struggling to breath through his fear. No. The thing causing cold terror to rush through him and blur his vision, cause his thoughts to rambling and crash into each other, the only thing he could think to do to obey was the gun in his face. The other three guns were equally terrifying of course, but they were focused on him for the most part out of sight. The one in his face was impossible to ignore.

The one digging into the back of his neck was hard to ignore as well, as were the two guns being held a little bit away from him, but the one in his face was the worst.

Four large men had cornered him in the mid-afternoon. He’d been heading to his Papa’s house, but it looked like he wouldn’t make it to the cafe they were meant to be meeting in before Matthew went back to the other’s house in France.

Alfred, his adopted brother that referred to him as ‘twin’ due to them being the same age was causing Hell at home with their father Arthur. Recently he’d dragged Matthew into it, so Matthew was being sent away so he wouldn’t get hurt again. He was 15, old enough to deal with being punched in the face by his brother, but nonetheless he was being packed up and sent to stay with his Papa. He didn’t mind, or at least he didn’t mind it before he’d been pushed against a wall with four guns trained on him, lightly beaten and now forced to his knees by four men who didn’t seem to speak a word of English.

His father’s were gay, and had adopted Matthew and Alfred years ago...before breaking up. For no apparent reason Arthur had won custody and seemed to regret fighting so hard to keep both children. It was probable that he’d only fought so hard because he and Francis had not ended their relationship well and now looked for any reason to fight.

In truth Matthew wasn’t so sure it was Alfred’s behavior that was the reason Arthur was sending him away. Arthur had been fidgety lately, constantly looking over at Matthew and refusing to allow him to go anywhere. He was acting more protective then he had when Matthew had been a child after witnessing a violent crime.

Now as he was forced to open his mouth to have the cold steal gun shoved in, the safety still off, he wondered whether perhaps this was related to that time he’d stood in the witness box, shaking like a leaf.

“Sosat! Sosat!” Came impatient commands.

He shock as he cried. He didn’t understand what they were saying, but he could tell he was meant to do something. Nervously he looked up at the man in front of him, trying to convey he didn’t understand.

His imploring gaze was meant with a snarl and one of the men getting a phone out. A computerized voice came out of the phone and Matthew realised distantly that it was a translator. “Suck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked the barrel of the gun reluctantly. Please please please don’t go further than this. He begged the men, unsure how much he could take before snapping. Giving oral to a gun ready to blow his head off was border lining too much for him. He was sure it would take a lot of really good therapy to get him able to walk the streets again without having a panic attack.

He breathed heavily through his nose as he sucked, the foul metal filling his mouth. He wondered idly if he would suffer some sort of poisoning due to the metal, that’s if he made it out of this alive of course.

Finally the gun was pulled away leaving a strand of saliva linking him to it for a moment before pain flashed, covering his awareness before everything was gone and he fell to the ground unconscious. He was kicked one last time before the men stuffed him into a bag unceremoniously, breaking an arm that wouldn’t fit in so it did and then zipped it up. One of them tossed a used cigarette to the ground before they left the alley they’d dragged Matthew to.

*

Francis tapped his fork against the plate of cake anxiously. Usually Matthew would take the train to his house on his own, but Arthur had mentioned that Ivan Braginsky was being released in a week and Francis had practically run out the door to be able to meet the boy here in England. He ordered a forth coffee nervously, texting Arthur again that Matthew wasn’t here. He was only an hour late, but usually if he was going to be two minutes late he’d send whoever he was meeting a text.

The reply came back almost instantly and Francis almost felt amused at how worried Arthur clearly was. Almost. He was far too worried to be amused right now.

‘Just stay there. When Matthew comes text me.’

He sent back a reply that he’d do that and remained where he was. He wanted to run off and find Matthew, scold him for worrying his Papa so much and then hug the tightly and take him back home. He drunk the coffee slowly, idly wondering how many more it would take before Matthew showed up. He would show up. He had to.

Arthur paced and for once Alfred shut up. He could see his father was one step from exploding and while normally Alfred would push for the amusement of watching Arthur lose it, he could tell something was really wrong this time. He put the kettle on, remembering that Mattie did that whenever Arthur was tense.

He set up a cup of tea and poured the water in when it was boiled. He pushed the cup to where Arthur would see it and watched as the man hesitated.

Arthur sighed and sat down, taking the cup delicately. “...Thanks.”

“Um, dad...What’s going on? You’ve been kinda freaking out for the past couple of hours.”

Alfred felt fear, panic even at the expression that came onto Arthur’s features. It was one Alfred had never ever seen on his reserved father’s face before. Arthur looked...helpless. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

Alfred knew what the words meant; they meant the opposite. His eyes widened. “Where’s Mattie?”

Arthur cursed Alfred’s ability to read him so easily. He forced himself to keep eye contact as he said that Matthew was with Francis. Those were not the words that came out however. “I don’t know...”

Alfred’s eyes watered in panic and he stood up, racing to his room to grab his phone. He sat on the end on Matthew’s bed for four hours straight as he called Matthew over and over, not getting through. He didn’t give up though. Matthew had to answer! If he didn’t...If Matthew didn’t answer then Alfred didn’t know what he’d do.

During the time he was trying to call Matthew he heard his father calling the police station. It was far too early to file a missing persons report, even with the circumstancing being what they were, but Arthur was a police officer, and he was working well beneath his station due to the witness relocation program. The entire family, even Francis had been put under it to protect Matthew. He had stood up in court, even if he was too young to realise it, against a high ranker in the Russian mob. There was no way anyone he had regular contact with could retain their names.

*

Eyelids fluttered but didn’t open as Matthew slowly came too. He’d been hit hard with the barrel of a gun and blood mattered his hair. A tiny stinging slowly drew him back to awareness and he realised he was being slapped with a dull disinterest being his mind seemed to snap to awareness.

Pain.

So much pain.

He groaned the screamed dully as the pain became more acute. It hurt. It hurt it hurt! Pain induced panic clawed at him and he writhed, crying as soon as the pain was felt. Why did it hurt this badly? He remembered fragments, rough cold ground, cement? Hands...Metal...Fear. Nothing clearer would come out, not that it would do him any good. The worse of his injuries had come after he’d been knocked out. The broken arm was just one newer injury. The bag he’d been in had not been treated with the care it should have been; instead it had been tossed around and treated like in contained no more then a change of clothes. His arm would take months to heal, if the men ever bothered to treat it. His nose had been broken as well, and most of his limbs were sprained or damaged in some other way.

He’d also been deliberately beaten again before regaining consciousness.

When the men were satisfied he was awake he was punched in the gut. It caused him to stop his screaming, as he couldn’t breath for a while.

“Zatknisʹ.” Came a growled command. He didn’t understand it, but he managed to obey it anyway by shutting up, not wanting to get hit again. The men seemed satisfied with this and walked off, leaving just one smoking as he watched Matthew on the bed.

Slowly Matthew became aware of his surroundings. Obviously pain was the most obvious sensation, but there was also a strange chill. He noticed with dread that he was naked and felt sick. The image of a gun barrel being pulled away from his mouth, a saliva rope linking them still as he breathed through his open mouth came to his mind, making him feel sicker.

There was no blanket to cover his shame and he felt himself blushing despite the horrid situation. Considering everything else being naked should not be so embarrassing, but it was.

He also noticed the mattress he was on was hard and squeaked a tiny bit with every breath he took. He didn’t want to know how much noise it would make if he tried to get up. The next thing he noticed made him doubt he’d be able to try to get up. His hands were chained together above his head and he couldn’t feel past a sharp pain in one arm. He didn’t look at it. He was too tired and too much of him hurt to be bothered with it.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to know anything else right now. He wanted to go back to sleep, to escape this nightmare into the dream world. It was a much kinder place.

He didn’t get there however as as soon as he looked like he was near to sleep a hand impacted suddenly on his broken arm causing him to jolt to awareness with a shriek. The movement jolted all of his other injuries as well and he groaned in intense pain.

“Vy ne mozhete spatʹ gryaznym donoschikom.”

He didn’t know what the words were; right now he didn’t even care. He was so tired, and he hurt so much. Clearly sleep wasn’t going to happen however, so he lay on his back, unable to move even if he wasn’t chained. His breathing was shallow and he wondered idly if a rib was broken or something. In fact three ribs were broken, but they weren’t serious breaks and would heal on their own.

He figured talking was pointless, so he lay in silence, his eyes opened but not really seeing. All there was to look at was a cement ceiling with wooden supporting bars. He had no interest in seeing that. What he wanted to see was his brother’s dopey grin or his father’s stern and sometimes caring expression, or his Papa’s wink and slightly cheeky grin as he made some sort of wildly inappropriate comment that made Matthew blush. Heck, he’d settle for staring at his bedroom ceiling, or Alfred’s bedroom ceiling with all it posters and tickets and other things that just made it look stupid.

He’d even settle for that cheap house’s ceiling they’d been moved to in order to keep them safe when they first went under the witness relocation program. Matthew was sure Alfred had hated it, but he’d made it bearable for the both of them, turning it into a game, an adventure, anything but the truth.

There were a slight grinding sound as the door opened and one of the other men from before walked in, looking over Matthew with hatred. “Yeshche zhivy?”

“Da. U nas yestʹ zakazy?” Came the reply from next to Matthew.

“Da. My dolzhny izmenitʹ svoĭ vneshniĭ vid.”

“Izmenitʹ svoyu vneshnostʹ?”

Matthew zoned out. He couldn’t understand it anyway, so there was no point in trying to listen.

After the two Russian’s spoke for a bit longer hands clasped Matthew’s wrists harshly and he was unchained and pulled to his feet. It hurt worse now. The pain was blinding and Matthew was unable to walk, so instead he was dragged. They made it to the door before there was a sickening pop as his arm dislocated. He screamed at the fresh wave of pain. The Russian dropped him to the ground and bent over, picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder to carry him the rest of the way. He didn’t have to hurt Matthew as the scream had died away quickly to be replaced with quiet whimpers of pain.

Matthew must have blacked out while he was being carried, as suddenly his head was cold and covered with something damp that stunk. He realised it was hair dye and decided that he’d care a great deal more if he was in less pain.

He stayed on the tiled step, supported by a pair of unyielding hands. Time passed and he was grateful to be allowed to drift into a light and restless sleep. He twitched in the other’s grasp, his dreams too vague to make sense even to his sleeping mind.

He woke with a shocked gasp to find his head tilted back with hot water cascading over him. He groaned softly in pain, squirming slightly in the man’s grasp. It hurt. The man was holding him tightly over a bad bruise and Matthew just wanted the pain to ease.

His efforts were rewards with the wall rushing towards his face and then a moment of blurred painlessness before darkness engulfed him.

He woke to a smell that was slightly better then Arthur’s cooking. He was being propped up against musky smelling pillows that were thin and lumpy. As soon as he was propped up and his eyes were opened he was being fed a cold meat dish. He didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t awful.

Whoever was feeding him didn’t take the time to make sure he’d chewed and swallowed before shoving more food in his mouth. He chocked a few times, but eventually the uncomfortable meal was finished and he was pulled back to a laying down position. He drifted back to a light sleep, wondering what was going to happen to him. He doubted very much this was what he’d been kidnapped for.
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Snitch