guns for hire masterlist

Leo didn’t actually remember nodding his head.

It was like he had been dreaming; everything had been floating like his head was flying off his shoulders, all the words they spoke like muffles in his ears.

Sharpe had come round the desk, his hands heavy on his shoulders and grounding him back into reality. He hadn’t even realised that there were tears streaming down his cheeks until Summers had appeared by his other side with a box of tissues.

“It’s okay, Leo,” she whispered softly, and there was relief in her eyes. Relief that Leo wasn’t sure he was feeling right now. “Can I wipe your face? Is that okay?”

He felt himself nod his head that time. That was a miracle in itself. Her gentle hands wiped the tears from his face with a soft tissue, a warm touch that didn’t make him feel as comforted as Roy’s. His throat closed up in terror. What had he done? He’d disobeyed his orders and he’d told them.

Why? Why had Leo done that?

“But I love him,” Leo sobbed, and Summer paused for a second, a grimace on her face.

“It’s not love, Leo,” she answered gently, as if she was treading on thin ice or that he was made of glass and could break any minute. His shaking hands tried to scrub the tears away.

“He’s going to be so mad at me.”

The words had become clogged in his throat, and Sharpe squeezed his shoulders again, trying not to let him spiral. Leo wasn’t sure if it was working or not, because he could just imagine Roy in the same building as him, blissfully unaware of the fact that he’d just destroyed any chance of theirs to be together.

Because that was what they both wanted.

“Roy doesn’t love you.”

They both wanted it.

“What you’re feeling may seem like love, but it’s not real.”

He was so sure of that.

Summers set the box of tissues down on the table, easing him out of his relentless thoughts. His puffy eyes met her own gaze, pooling with deep sympathy. Sympathy? Why sympathy?

“Roy isn’t going to hurt you again, kid,” Sharpe cut in, drawing his attention away from the female detective with a soft blink. “You’re gonna spend some time in Witness Protection, alright? He won’t be able to touch you again. You, or any of the others.”

His back suddenly spurred with this stinging pain, reminding him of the whip tearing his muscles apart, the blinding agony that he’d succumbed to. The person who whipped him had a blurry face, but just for a second, he saw Roy’s eyes.

But he was also kind. He cooked with him - he was bad at things and he laughed when he would. He didn’t want to let that go. It was all he ever wanted.

He heard Sharpe turn to Summers, his voice quiet. “I want him at the hospital and I want him properly fed and comfortable. I want a psyciatrist called for an evaluation before they want him in court to testify.”

“Psychiatrist?” Leo croaked, his heart thundering. Sharpe offered a small smile.

“Yeah, kid,” he nodded. “You’ve been through a lot. You’ll get the help you need.”

The two kind detectives had stayed by his side until his tears stopped, and Leo was able to exit the stuffy room in order to see his father. It had been an amazing thing, to feel his dad hug him so tightly for the first time, and he hadn’t even wanted to let go. Leo’s head had remained plastered to his father’s shoulder during the journey to hospital, and after riding in silence, Leo had dissolved into sobs once again.

His father held him tightly, so tightly, but it wasn’t tight enough to fill that hollow void that was tearing him apart. His father’s arms embraced him, cupping the back of his head and tucking him under his chin, in a way that any child would want to be held.

Once his time at the hospital had passed, his mind only consumed with thoughts of Roy, he’d sat through his first session with a psychiatrist. It was a tall, blond woman - she seemed nice, but Leo couldn’t focus on that when all he could think was how much he wanted to leave.

“Did you have a sexual relationship with Mr Gatlin, Leo?” She had asked gently, like the words hadn’t made his stomach twist with dread. His eyes were focused on the glass table in front of them, like maybe if he stared at it for long enough, he would see Roy’s face in the reflection instead of the psychiatrist.

Leo’s foot tapped anxiously. “Yes.”

He’d wanted to lie, but what was the point? It felt like she could see right through him. The sessions were one of the most uncomfortable things he had ever had to experience. The anxiousness, the embarrassment, the idea of spilling his darkest secrets and thoughts to a complete stranger in the lonesome room.

He imagined what it would be like if Roy was here, holding his hand to help him get through it.

“But why would he have sex with me if he didn’t love me?” Leo softly breathed towards the end of the session, his eyes gleaming with pain. He rubbed his thumb against the scars on his wrist, refusing to meet her eyes. They were too sharp, too imposing, like she could read every thought in his little head.

“You experienced life changing traumas during your captivity, Leo,” the psychiatrist offered. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Mr Gatlin expressed qualities your mind was tricked into thinking was genuine kindness. He took advantage of your vulnerability. Your need for that physical affection.”

Her lips curved slightly.

“Have you always believed that sex is a romantic gesture?”

Leo nodded his head slowly. “Why would someone do that if they didn’t love them? Why would they bother?”

“A lot of people separate their sexual needs from their romantic ones. It’s a blurry line, but there is a line, Leo.”

“He told me he loved me,” he sniffled, pressing his hands into his face. He could feel himself shaking. “He, He said that he...”

“Mr Gatlin kidnapped and tortured you,” she softly spoke, slowly pushing the box of tissues closer towards him. She settled back in her chair with a sigh. “Do you really think someone like that is capable of truly loving you?”

Leo let out a quiet sob. Everyone was telling him that he didn’t love him - that these feelings were born out of necessity and trauma, that his isolated childhood was playing a part in his psyche. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“How frequently did you and Mr Gatlin have sex, Leo?”

He lifted his head, gently wiping away the tears. His heart squeezed a little. “Um, I suppose...often.”

“How long had this relationship been formed before you were separated?”

“I think...” He swallowed uneasily. “Not that long. I can’t really remember.”

The psychiatrist nodded her head. She was always incredibly patient with him, and that made it all the more easier. He frequently visited her during the court sessions, which he found himself avoiding, only until the day he had to testify.

He had kept his eyes downcast, despite seeing the man—he...loved? Thought he loved?—seated in his peripheral. He’d recited everything that had happened, answered the questions, and left. Sharpe had given him a lift, though it wasn’t easy to hear his and Summers conversation while he stared out of the window.

“We’ll win this case,” Summers had said, and yet Sharpe had let out a sharp tut.

“Yeah, that’s if his uncle doesn’t have the judge or the even damn jury in his backpocket.”

“Not with the kid in the car.”

Sharpe had always kept in touch over the months. Asked him how he was doing, how he felt about the psychiatrist – he came round for dinner sometimes, and his father seemed more than happy to cook. Leo sometimes found himself smiling and laughing along with them, but other times, he would be picking at his food with only one person on his mind.

Later, Roy was found guilty.

His father had hugged him and sobbed hysterically, thanking everybody out there and keeping him so close. Leo had cried too, but not for the same reason.

The mercenary was never truly off his mind. Even if it was easier to go about his day without being consumed by him every waking hour, he was still there. Somewhere.

Whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Holding him close.

Having sex with him and telling him he loved him at the same time.

Leo was curled up in bed, late at night, when he heard his father’s phone ring. He hadn’t been able to sleep well, and carefully listened into the muffled conversation from his comfortable position.

“Oh, Detective,” his father greeted, his voice melting into warmth and excitement. Leo’s ears perked up. He wondered why he was calling so late at night. “Are you—?”

His father was abruptly cut off. Faintly, during the silence, Leo’s blood spiked with anticipation.

“Bail—?” His father all but cried, and he could sense the crushing despair in his voice. “But it was so high!”

Leo’s heart rate began to pick up. Bail? They could only be talking about Roy. The bail had been expensive, so expensive it would have been impossible for someone, even of the uncle’s stature, to pay it off. How? How so quickly?

Leo heard a thundering crashing noise, and suddenly, he was leaping out of bed in fear. He rushed out of his room and into the corridor, the sight of his father’s limp body sprawled along the floor making him almost scream.

“Dad!” He called out, collapsing to his knees beside him in horror to find blood pooling around his head. Tears stabbed his eyes. “No, no, no, no, please.”

His fingers gripped his shirt desperately, the panicked thoughts going haywire in his mind. He could feel the static consuming his hearing, making it all fuzzy and incomprehensible as he squeezed his eyes shut, all those horrible memories crashing into him.

“He’s not dead,” came a firm voice, and Leo’s head snapped up to meet the smiling face of Roy. It was a cold smile. “Still breathing.”

The secretary made a dash, but as always, as it had been since day one, Roy was quicker.

Fingers tightened in his hair and slammed his face into the wall, a gutteral groan tearing from his throat when stars erupted in his vision. The gloved hand kept him there, hearing a sharp sigh from Roy.

“I’m so fucking disappointed, lion.”

The tears streamed down his face. It felt like his knees were going to give out on him.

“The worst part, is that I’m absolutely livid, too,” he hissed, and God, Leo had never heard anger dripping off Roy’s words like this. The worst part, was that they both knew he was holding himself back.

“I really thought you were smart,” he hummed, pressing his face harder into the wall. Leo let out a pained sob, his breathing picking up. “I leave you alone for forty-eight hours, and they manage to get into that little head of yours.”

Roy jerks his head back, spinning him around so that he’s facing him. His knees can barely even support his own weight, staring at the face he’d failed to get out of his own head.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, choking on a breath. “I’m so, so sorry—”

“You’re sorry now?” Roy snapped, his lip curled into a snarl. “You’re a fucking mess. Look at you. This could have even easy, but you’ve only gone and made this way harder than it has to be.”

The mercenary sighed sharply, his eyes flickering over to his father’s unmoving body. They softened, just a fraction.

“New names, new identity,” he hummed, tilting his head. “Shame. I like you as a blond.”

Leo sucked in a gasping breath. The grip on his hair was absolutely unrelenting, and he hadn’t eased up for even a second. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but the mercenary just gave him a violent shake, and it died on his tongue. An unspoken I love you, even after everything. Leo wondered if it was real or because he was scared.

“I’m so mad,” he reiterated, his jaw clenched as those fiery eyes bore into his own. “I could break both your legs and make you crawl after me. But you know what? I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to hurt you, lion. I’m going to do something much, much worse.”

The hand violently pushed him down to his knees, and Leo sucked in a hyperventilating breath. He looked up in horror when Roy started to unbuckle his belt.

“My uncle’s waiting for us both in the car,” Roy told him sharply, and his stomach twisted in dread at the word ‘us’. Us. He desperately shook his head.

“Roy, please—”

A harsh slap shut him up, and the hand returned to his hair as he started working his zipper down.

“Like I said, he’s waiting for us,” he growled, his eyes narrowed into vicious slits. “So that mouth better work quickly and give me a different kind of apology.”