a continuation of this drabble by @clockworknightmares .
It’s his fault. It’s his fault. Crow made a mistake because he was distracted. He was distracted because the Hunter chose not to visit his mind, let him stew in his worry and panic over whether Nick would choose to beat him or refuse to. The Hunter made a play to ensure Crow was afraid enough to sell the beating, to make it convincing, like a beating alone wouldn’t be enough.
If he’s completely honest with himself, he didn’t give Crow warning ahead of time because this was his chance to hurt Crow, his only blame-free chance, and he wanted the assistant as scared as he could be. He wanted to see utter terror in Crow’s eyes.
He was selfish, cruel, and usually it only makes things more fun, but this time it’s tearing him up inside.
The pain that Crow is in now… Never again. No more half-measures with this. Crow is his friend, and Nick won’t hurt him, and he won’t do things that lead to him getting hurt more than he has to.
…Crow looks good right now.
The Hunter can see him in the mirror, the one placed perfectly so Crow can watch himself suffer. His mind is loud with pain, as he hangs limply from broken wrists, his shoulders popped out of their sockets. His hair hangs in his face, grey eyes reflecting grimly in the mirror. His tattoo, the number and brand, it’s visible by his collarbone. If the Hunter was there, he’d press down on one of those shoulders and listen to Crow keen.
He’s capable of thinking that, alongside the Collector should be gutted for this. It’s just the kind of man he is.
Crow hates seeing his reflection. He hates looking at himself, but here he is, trapped in agony with nothing to look at but his own thin, pallid, trembling frame. Slender arms strung up, shoulders displaced, thin torso unable to expand for deep breaths. The Hunter wants to unbind his arms and pull him into a hug, ease him down to the floor.
I will obey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I will obey, clean and presentable and calm, I will be good and I will obey and I will be Crow, please let me be Crow, no number, four-nine-four-zero, I want to be Crow, I want to be yours…
Crow’s thoughts are on a conditioned, broken-in loop. The loop only breaks when he figures out that he’s not alone in his head. Then, I want to be Crow, I want to be yours becomes Nick - Nick, I want to be - I want to be yours, I want to be, I want to be hurt, by you, please hurt me, it would be better, I want to be useful, I want to be Crow and I want to be hurt - my arms, please, please - I want, I want, please, Nick, please…
Confused and conditioned and condemned to silence. Crow is suffering so deeply. Crow… What can he say, what can he think, to possibly help? Crow, I’ll never hurt you if I can help it. I’m still your friend. I’m sorry you’re being punished.
It doesn’t work. Crow latches onto only the worst parts, twists Nick’s words. Hurt me… you’re my friend, you can, I want you to, it’s okay, you want to, I know you want to… punished - I messed up, I need to be punished - it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…
Words, thoughts, they’re no use. This is 4940, or something close. Crow broken down to a terrified shell of a person.
The Hunter tries something else. He goes for the route of soothing, how he would with someone he’s ruined. It’s alright. You’ve been good. Very, very good, you are good. You’re special and good. He sends waves of forgiveness, calm, pride. Like he’s praising Crow for taking his punishment so well. I’m proud of you. You’re still being punished, but you’re being so strong, I’m very happy with you. You are being so good, Crow, good job. Very good.
Crow listens, his thoughts quirk a little in rapt attention as the magic in his mind tries to make his panic settle. Good? He asks in a simple single thought, head tipped a bit to the side, loose messy hair swaying with the movement and obscuring one of his teary grey eyes. Good?
Very good. You are good, Crow. You’re obeying. Forgiven, you’ll be forgiven soon. You’ll get a chance to earn it. Keep being good, keep being sorry. It will keep Crow alive, so close to getting his number back and being killed. Crow needs to let himself stay broken and obedient entirely, if he’s going to survive the week, Nick thinks. Be good. I’m proud of you. Make me proud. Have good thoughts. Show you’re sorry when he sees you. Your pain, your fear, they mean you’re being good, you’re being punished. So obedient and accepting the blame. Good, good, good. Wonderfully good.
Crow watches himself in the mirror, tears still on his cheeks, shivering. Good, good… I want to be good. I can be good. Good for Nick?
And your Master, Nick adds helpfully. Good for your Master. You’re making me proud. If you’re good for him, you’re making me proud, Crow.
Okay, Nick, Crow thinks, still watching his reflection, even though he hates it. It’s his punishment. Okay, Nick, I’ll be good, I’ll be very good. Good for Master, good for Nick.
The Hunter glares at the wall from where he sits in his house, skilled enough at telepathy to project calm pride despite his silent outrage. He rewards Crow with more waves of pride, accidentally making his friend cry from relief at just a moment of not feeling loathed and revolting. In the end, Nick needs to leave Crow’s mind before he loses control of his own emotions. He’s truly got no idea if he helped, or only broke Eerin more.