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Stockholm Syndrome	By : SerenNoir Category: Final Fantasy VII > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise and make no money by writing this.

Chapter List
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I can hear Kadaj and Yazoo upstairs directly above me and I can tell it's becoming heated as the sounds of things being thrown around becomes more frequent.
"It's just that I think…"
"You think what Yazoo? Why are you so damn worried? He's our prisoner; I could care less if he's injured," Kadaj's voice cuts in.
"We have an extra room and it's right next to yours. We can just keep him there. Shinra isn't going to want to negotiate if he's all banged up and on the brink of death."
I wanted to tell them Shinra wasn't going to negotiate even if they sent me home with new shoes on my feet. It's quiet upstairs and I'm suddenly startled when I hear the lock to the cellar door slide and it slams open. I still the very breath in my lungs as Kadaj descends, with powerful grace even while stomping, and comes to a stop in front of me.
"Get the hell up and follow me," he orders forcefully. I stare up at him like he's speaking a foreign language and place my hands on my thighs, readying myself to stand. Apparently, this isn't fast enough as Kadaj grips my collar and yanks me roughly to my feet. I hiss in pain as he pushes me in front of him up the stairs.
"Does it hurt, Princess?" he jeers, jabbing me brutally in the side. I yell out loudly, black dotting my vision, and grip onto the door-frame for support. Kadaj fists my hair in his hand and tugs me behind him down the hall to our left. There are four doors: two on the right, one of the left, and one at the very end of the hall. I store this away in my memory for later as I'm shoved roughly into the middle room, Kadaj steps behind me.
"What the fuck is your problem, kid!" I yell, finally finding my voice and my nerve. Kadaj sneers and backhands me roughly across the face and I collapse onto the bed. His rich, yet hollow, laughter fills the room and I want to yank out every silver hair on his pathetic little head.
"Just be lucky I have a brother who's a sensitive prick. If it was up to me, I'd leave you down there to die," he states coldly before turning and leaving the room, the door slamming behind him.
I lie still on the bed and try to settle my throbbing body. My side is burning like fire and I resist the urge to cry out from the pain. Lying there on that small, hard, iron-cast bed, I made up my mind.
I wasn't going to just allow any of those three kick me around without me defending myself anymore. Even if my chances of leaving alive were slim to none, at least I'd have the peace of mind that I was going out fighting.
The door to my room clicks back open, rusted hinges squeaking horribly, and Yazoo makes his way to me, arms laden down with gauze, medication and a glass of water. He sets the water and pills on the table next to the bed and I take the initiative and take them, hissing through my teeth when I jar my ribs.
"You're going to have to remove your shirt so I can do this," Yazoo mumbles, holding up the gauze in his hand.
"You don't have to do this, y'know. It's not going to help much anyways; all you're doing is succeeding in making your brother more and more angrier," I say, unbuttoning my dress shirt and shrugging it off along with my outer coat.
His fingers are smooth and cold against my bare skin as he wraps the gauze around my middle, successfully hindering my movements.
"I don't do this because I want to," he corrects, staring me down, "so don't get the impression that I like you and I want to be your friend."
"Believe me, I already knew that," I mumble sarcastically, remembering back to the first fight that started this whole kidnapping mess.
"Kadaj can't think clearly when he's mad and I'm here to make sure he's not going to do something stupid."
I wince slightly when his fingers press down harder than usual and he sighs heavily out his mouth, ripping the gauze away from my body in aggravation. Standing, he motions for me to follow him and I warily get to my feet, slightly uncomfortable that he was being so quiet once more.
He glances down the hallway before ushering me into the bedroom next to my own and I'm taken aback by how utterly cluttered it is; there's hardly any room to move about. I weave myself in between the mess and follow him into a brightly-lit bathroom.
Kicking aside random items of clothing and muttering under his breath, 'Loz, you pig', Yazoo swept his hand over the tub, telling me silently what to do.
"Is this your subtle way of telling me I stink?" I joke, a little of the old Reno shining through. Yazoo narrows his eyes and cuffs me rather roughly upside the head and I smile at him. His brow furrows further and I can tell he's not pleased with the way I don't seem to be afraid of him like I am with his other two brothers.
He exits the bathroom with a huff under his breath and I am left to my own devices. The first thing that I do is scan the small room for a window, which to my dismay, there is none. Pansy bastard. There's a clean towel, surprisingly, folded up on a rack above the toilet and what looks like a pair of knit pants on top of it.
I stand there for a few moments, mouth hanging open like a fish. This is the first time in my life that I'm at a complete loss at what to do. Yazoo must have been planning all along to let me come in here and shower, or else there wouldn't of been a change of clothes that were way too small to fit Loz's large frame.
I blink once more stupidly for good measure and turn on the shower, stripping off my pants and boxers and stepping into the comfortably warm spray. I emit a guttural groan of appreciation as the water cascades down my back and soothes the numerous aching muscles. It wets my hair around my face and drips off the incline of my nose as I lean a hand upon the wall to support myself.
This is way too surreal.
I suppose I should be grateful, as their prisoner, that at least one of them thought I should get a proper shower but hell, this is way more that I bargained for. I try to stay under the water as long as possible after washing my body and hair but I knew if I did, Yazoo would come looking for me and I didn't want to take advantage of his rare hospitality just yet.
After shutting off the water, I stepped out and toweled myself off. The pants were a bit tight around the waist and were long in the legs so I assumed they were Yazoo's. Picking up my dirty boxers and pants, I cautiously weaved my way back into the hallway and gasped when I collided with someone. A large, muscled hand wound its way around my throat and I was shoved up against the wall, breath leaving me in a nice whoosh.
"What the hell were you in my room for?" Loz growled in my face and I suppose if I were him, I would be thinking the same thing.
"Let him go Loz." The pressure on my trachea releases and I turn my head to meet the cold green-blue eyes of Kadaj who was casually leaning up against the door of my room. I debate whether or not to try and enter my room but remind myself that I wasn't afraid of them anymore.
Kadaj glances up at me with unconcealed contempt as I come to a stop right in front of him and he smiles wickedly when he meets my eyes. "You must think you're pretty damn lucky, don't you?"
"Actually no, I think I'm rather unlucky," I reply, sarcastic. Kadaj frowns and rears back his hand. Thinking on reflex, I catch onto his wrist and press him back into the door. "Not going to happen again."
I apply pressure to his wrist and I can feel the bones creak beneath his skin and his eyes take on something akin to fear almost.
And then the little motherfucker head-butts me.
Hard. And my vision swims black and I collapse with a smile on my face. Because for an instant, I wasn't the prisoner and Kadaj was the one hunted. It felt pretty damn good and now I know this kid who thinks he's God has a weakness.
Oh, how the mighty fall.
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Stockholm Syndrome