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27 October 2007 @ 12:47 pm
To Move Mountains (Part Five)  
Title: To Move Mountains, Part Five of Seven
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: NA/DB (implied), NA/AC, AC/AW, AAA (just a hint)
Word Count for Part Five: 2,700
Rating for Part Five: NC-17+
SUMMARY FOR PART FOUR: Blood, sweat, and tears.

WARNINGS are in effect. Ref.:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

To Move Mountains: Part Five

Everyone met back up at the station, trying to decide what to do. Danny read out his notes from his meeting with Mr. David, and Nicholas was impressed with the amount of detail in them. It was clear that Safi somehow managed to subdue two men twice her size and kidnap them – while there was no witness for Andy’s abduction, it made sense. From what Mr. Davis said, her phone call to Andy at the station happened about an hour and a half after she attacked Andrew. Now, three hours later, there was no telling where they were. Obviously within a 45 minute radius of her apartment complex, for her to stash Andrew and then get back to grab Andy within the time window they had, but on a straight road and at high speed, that could still be damn far away. Instinct told Nicholas that they did not have a lot of time to waste on finding them, but he had no answers to that problem.

Tony worked on securing legal access to her apartment, although Nicholas did not hold much hope for finding anything there to tell them where she took the Andes. He picked up the case file that Andy was maintaining and started flipping into it deeper.


Andy’s blood dripped down his sides onto Andy and eventually soaked into the wet blanket under them. He was delirious, his body completely melted into the chemical haze that his brain had become. He yelled and screamed and cried and begged and nothing stopped the pain. When he went to throw up again there was nothing left in him to puke and he nearly killed himself choking on the sock gag. Finally Safi’s hits became soft and languid and Andy registered the sensation of the electric cord being trailed across his back over open wounds and he shuddered and cried. Safi laughed, again; she only laughed when she stopped.

“Let’s show you man what a bender really is.” Safi stood over them and they were both distracted by her undoing her pants and dropping her trousers to reveal what was, on the whole for such a delicate man, a very decently sized erection. Andrew went into a panicked frenzy under him, but Andy was fucking terrified, with what part of his brain that was still working. This was not going to be Nicholas being nice with a lot of lube. All of his muscles clenched in panicked anticipation. Andrew, who was just now realizing what was really going on, was shaking in fury. Safi took a bit of rope and strung a noose around Andy’s neck and wrapped the end into his wrist as he knelt down behind Andy and with no ceremony at all shoved his penis directly and deeply into Andy, the blood running down his back and over his ass the only lubricant needed, gasping in the pleasure of the violation.

Safi’s rape was cruel and brutal and he nearly strangled Andy with the rope when he came. Andy just wanted to pass out, and welcomed the pressure on his neck as a fast way to get there, but Safi knew the limits. Andy felt every movement of Safi inside him, ripping him bloody, as sweat dripped off Safi’s body onto the fresh wounds on Andy’s back, the salt making them sting. Andy did not know when he started screaming or when he stopped, but when the rope finally slackened and Safi got up, he was delirious from the exertions of trying to fight off the inescapable.

Then the pain started again.

Safi did not need to use much force with the cord to get Andy to react and was clearly getting bored. When he stopped, Andy tried to open his eyes and found that he could barely see, but he saw Andrew, who was motionless under him, and who looked insane with grief. Andy understood then that he was already dead, that now it was just a matter of waiting for Safi to pull the trigger or tighten the rope or just let him bleed to death; but the only thought that came to him then was at least he was going to die next to Andrew.

He felt the stinging lash of the cord across the bottom of his bare feet. The pain exploded through his entire body and at last, merciful god, his mind went dark.


Andrew was trying not to throw up. Andy was in and out of consciousness as Safi shredded him and raped him repeatedly during the course of the impossibly long night. He was not thinking about the fact that this man gave him a blow job, or that this man was raping Andy. No, what he concentrated on was that Andy was slowly being tortured to death on top of him. He was totally helpless in a way he never actually understood before, and even as he thought clinically that Andy was dying and he was next and no one was coming for them, he screamed into the gag in his mouth with every ounce of desperation and terror and pure red-blooded fury he had until he physically felt his sanity crack.


It was late in the afternoon the next day and the entire department was still there, sleepless, worried, and frustrated. Nicholas had the Turners inform the Met what was going on and they were waiting on reinforcements who would not arrive for hours yet. Nicholas read the report and Andy’s scribbled notes repeatedly until his eyes dripped tears and Danny forced him to stop. Now he was sitting in a chair, his head in his hands, trying not to listen to the buzz of everyone around him.

“’Ere, this is strange.” Danny said.

“Wot, luv?” Doris answered, sounding exhausted.


Nicholas heard the rattling of the newspaper and was furious with Danny for reading the damn paper and not concentrating on the case.

Doris whistled. “Chief, ‘ere, Danny’s on to somethin’.”

Nicholas head snapped up. Doris looked at his expression and then carefully handed the paper back to Danny. “’Ere, you tell ‘im, Danny.”

Danny did not wait for Nicholas’ nod. “Those murders in Wiltfordshire that Liz wrote about, the bodies they found. Two of ‘em, tied up together and buried in a cellar at an abandoned barn.” He shook the paper.

Nicholas waited as Danny put down the paper and picked up the case file.

“Well if this is right, then they were killed right about the time Safi was in town. According to Andy’s notes on her rap sheet, she was arrested for pick pocketing but she told him she weren’t ever there.” Danny said it casually, as if he was reading off the weather report, and then stopped in horror. Nicholas straightened his back very slowly and everyone turned to look at him as one.

“I want to know of every abandoned barn within an hour of here, and any place that might even look like one. I don’t care how many, or what you do to find them, I want every fucking barn checked.


She untied Andy and drug him over to a cellar door, and pushed him down. She walked back and leaned over Andrew.

“I need to get some rest. Pretty, there takes a lot of work yeah? But I do want to save myself, so ‘ere, you boys get some sleep.” She reached down and tased him.

He woke up lying nearly on top of Andy, in the dark, with just a blanket that Safi apparently tossed down as an afterthought.

Andrew had no idea why Safi did not touch him. He was some kind of witness to the madness, or perhaps he was just dessert once Andy was dead. Andrew held no illusions about the situation: Safi was going to kill Andy, slowly, and he was going to make Andrew watch. What this did for Safi, Andrew could not fathom, but he knew what it was doing to him.

He went by the book, at first, crawling about the cellar space, looking for a way out. He knew enough cellars like this one to know that there was no way out, but he had to try. He wrapped Andy up in the blanket that Safi threw down and then inspected every inch of their prison, and found exactly what he knew he would find: nothing. The door was bolted from the outside and they were essentially buried alive in a hole in the ground. He crawled back to Andy by touch and found him shaking uncontrollably, from pain or shock it was impossible to know. He pulled him up to his chest and they sat facing each other, arms wrapped around naked torsos, and Andrew tried not to imagine the blood on his hands from Andy’s wounds, which ran across and around him from head to foot. He wrapped the blanket over both of them, giving most of it to Andy, and debated the merits of freezing to death if the temperature dropped vs. dying at the hands of homicidal sociopath.

Andy’s head tilted in and down to rest against Andrew’s chest, and his arms tightened just a bit in what might have been a desperate clutch, if it were not so weak. Andrew lowered his head and put his mouth near Andy’s ear.

“Stay on, mate. You’ll be fine. I got you.”

Andy responded by rubbing his face against Andrew’s chest, and Andrew could not figure out if he was shaking his head “no” or if he was just delirious. Maybe both.

Earlier he was disgusted by Andy, his hard on pressing against him, his obvious lust for Andrew playing out against Safi’s insanity in what, to Andrew, was a horror of disturbia. The thought of Safi giving him head made him ill then, and the thought of Andy getting off on him was even worse. Now, though, it really did not seem to matter. Chances were, they were both going to die here together, and what mattered more than that?

He pulled Andy in closer to his body.

Andy lifted his head some and in the creaking, inky darkness, some light came from somewhere to just hint at his eyes. “Andrew…I’m….mmm…sorr-rry…” He was stuttering.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, Andy. You’re ain’t the crazy one here.”

Andy nodded. “Lll-love…you…” As soon as Andy said it, his body began shaking with sobs or delirium or shock.

Andrew shook his head, although he knew Andy probably could not see him. “Shhh. Don’ matter. I got you.” He held him as he had not held him since they were children, when Andy would come running to him for protection or help or just because he was scared of the dark. It was two lives they shared almost as one, and whatever else Andy was, he was still one of the most important pieces of Andrew’s world. He kissed Andy’s forehead. When it calmed Andy down some, he did it again, and Andy calmed down even more. “I want you to breathe, Andy, just keep breathin’.” Andrew told him between kisses and slowly, quietly, without planning to or with any reason other than his deep fear for Andy’s life, kissed him on the lips.

Andy almost stopped shaking and tilted his head up in surprise. Andrew brought one hand up to steady Andy’s chin and just held them there together. It was not passionate or romantic, it was nothing more than lifegiving.

Andrew understood then to the marrow of his bones that Andy was his best friend, and that he loved him. The word might not mean quite the same to both men, he thought, but it was love in its own way. He held Andy in his arms and kissed him, not for what he needed or wanted or felt, but to give something to Andy before they died; and his grip around his friend tightened as the kiss deepened and Andrew discovered the new taste of someone he had known all his life. He thought that if he could only move mountains, he would save Andy’s life, even at the cost of his own.


It was morning again, and still, no one had slept. The special unit from London was three people that Nicholas promptly sent out with a map to check on barns. When they heard his explanation of why, one of them nodded and described three unsolved murders in London concerning people tied together in pairs and tortured to death, and congratulated Nicholas on his astute detective skills in putting it all together. Their words sank like cold lead weights into Nicholas’ heart, and he suspected he was not the only one who felt that way.

If the Andes were still alive, time was running out.


He was not sure when it turned from giving comfort to making love. Andy was severely, mortally injured and it was not like they were going to be humping each other on the dirt floor of a moldy cellar, but Andrew was not innocent and could not call it anything other than what it was. Andy’s weak hands trailed over his chest and their tongues moved against each other in a slow, open kiss. It was not Andrew’s intention to go out of this mortal coil as a flaming queer, but he decided that given the options, this was in fact a good way to die. He did not drop his hands below Andy’s waist – there was too much damage there for pleasure, in any case, so he had a good excuse. Instead he kept his hands propping Andy up and running light touches over his face and listening to his friend whimper in what little pleasure his burned out nerves could process. He bucked a little when Andy’s hand went below his waist, but Andy did not try anything too queer, he just gently touched the delicate skin he found and sighed from the exertions.

Andy broke the kiss and dropped his head to kiss Andrew’s neck, and Andrew admitted that it felt marvelous. He sighed and held his head up, and suddenly registered that Andy’s light touches below his waist were massaging him into a hard on. He wondered what kind of sick bastard he was to let this happen, but he felt Andy pulling strength into himself from this, and he could not bring himself to severe that life line. This was his cost then: obliteration. He did not feel like Andrew anymore, except where he felt his love and concern for Andy, and he took that path as it rolled out for him, in whatever way it went, to save Andy’s life…as the only way he might be able to save Andy, in some mysterious way. He leaned back and laid down, pulling Andy on top of him, under the blanket, and held him close as Andy slowly worked him into a crisis, kissing his neck, jerking him off with weak and unsteady motions, and as Andrew fought his misplaced orgasm he whispered Andy’s name.


Andy felt Andrew under him as life itself. There was nothing for it, really; his pain made him delirious and his hold on Andrew was the only thing keeping him present at all. It was exhausting and every inch of his skin cracked in agony but he had to have Andrew before he died: he had to hear him, and touch him, and know just once what it was like to be his lover; it would almost be like life, then. When he heard his own name he finally stopped and drifted away.


Walker radioed in and Tony translated that there were very fresh tire marks out at the barn he was heading towards. They were the tracks of cars that normally would not come out such an old, beat up road, and anyway Saxon was acting anxious and wound up all of a sudden. Nicholas told him to hold off until he and Tony got there, and as he spun the car Tony hit the siren and Nicholas floored it.


Safi was not sympathetic. He told Andrew to carry Andy up, if he could not walk himself. He did, and laid him down on the wooden door to the cellar, just to keep him off the ground. He stopped then, in shock. Andy was pale as white sheets and smeared head to toe in blood. Andrew looked at himself and realized that their…efforts… covered them both in blood from Andy’s wounds. Safi laughed.

“Wot you two been up to? You kill ‘em off for me? Ah, nevermind then.” She raised the gun level on Andy, aiming for his chest.

Andrew did not even think as he went for Safi. The gun went off and suddenly the place seemed to explode around him.


The gunshot sent Nicholas charging into the building, Tony on his heels, as Saxon barked and Walker went for the radio. He found someone attacking Safi, and it barely registered that the naked and blood-drenched man wresting with Safi was Andrew Wainwright. Nicholas leapt into the fray and pistol-whipped Safi with the butt of his gun while Safi kept firing off more shots randomly and Tony fell down in his efforts to drag Andrew to safety. The fray went on for only a few moment before Nicholas finally got a clear blow to the head and Safi dropped, unconscious. Nicholas quickly kicked the gun away and trussed Safi unceremoniously with his handcuffs.

He turned around and his heart stopped, his mind slowing events down to slow-motion. Tony was rolling around on the floor, trying to subdue and calm down a bloody, slippery Andrew who was screaming, dragging himself to the only other body in the building. That body was Andy Cartwright: cut like raw meat, motionless, and probably dead. Nicholas nearly dropped to the ground, realizing that they were certainly too late.
Current Mood: creative
lacking in glittertawg on October 28th, 2007 09:48 am (UTC)

... *whine*
Oh, you do like breaking things, don't you? Although, you did kind of fix the Andes, which was very sweet and tender. And Nicholas and Danny seem less sulky, which is promising. But that whole bit, with the beating and the Safi? Less full of cupcakes and sunshine :p