Broken Vow

It's falling slowly, a shower of earth knocked free from its bed by the heavy impact of a grown man's body. His vision is spinning, creating a mesmerizing tornado that begins to lull him into a state of forgotten peace, the shouting around him growing muffled and meaningless. The pain resonates throughout his body with the impact of another boot or two, but it's hardly more than a nuisance at this point, and he's focusing on the floating, drifting bits of sand and skin as they make their way toward the ground.

"Darling? Have you seen this?"

A memory. Only a memory. But his mind knows where it needs to be.

"Theo... no work on vacation. Your rule, might I remind you."

"Work? It's a magazine!"

His lover looks at him with big, puppy-dog eyes; eyes the nation has never seen. Eyes that belong to him only.

"My dearest, what is my work?"

"No, no. You don't write drivel like this. You inform people. You make history, Alli."

"Well, thank you." He laughs softly, a loving smile pushing its way onto his lips as he leans over to oh-so-gently pull the magazine from Theo's hands.

"And right now, I'd liked to be making history with you." He winks playfully, stealing a quick kiss from his lover as he tosses the book to the foot of the bed.

"Let's go skating, Theo. The pond looks so beautiful today."

"I don't know how, Alli, I -"

"You have me to teach you." He smiles again, his eyes warm and hopeful as he slips his fingers into the other man's pant's pocket, tugging at it gently.

"I'll catch you if you fall, okay?"

"Hmm..." Theo's dark eyes explore Alexi's playful expression, his bright teeth illuminating his face through a charming grin.

"Promise?"

Alexi chuckles, his body leaning closer again as he leans his forehead against his lover's.

"You have my word, Mr. President. Shall we?"

The beautiful memory is torn away by the screeching sun. Throbbing pain in his back joins the rest of his injuries, and he slowly comprehends that he has been tossed haphazardly onto the sandy ground outside of his usual enclosure.

"Sit up!"

He doesn't want to. No. He wants to keep dreaming. He wants to dream forever. He just wants -

"Sit. Up!" This command is followed by the sharp pain of the butt of a gun hitting him across his cheek. His face has got to be unrecognizable by now. He probably looks more like an overripened banana than the handsome, eligible bachelor of D.C. that he once was.

"Alexi... I love you."

He wants to just lie here. He wants to be done. But Theo is always there... Theo tells him not to give up. He owes him that. So he swallows down hard and pushes himself upright, his throat and mouth so dry he can hardly draw in breath.

"Yeah? What? Breakfast?"

Wrong thing to say.

He gets hit again. By what, he isn't entirely sure. Either way, he hits the ground, the air escaping his lungs like water from a shattered vase. God, he hates them. Fuck, he wants them dead.

"Up!"

"Fuck!" He screams, finding energy he didn't know he had and pushing himself upright again.

"What? What??"

The robed men yank him up by his arms, dragging him a few feet across the sand and setting him down in a wooden chair. There is a camera in front of him. The men step away as he blinks to focus his swaying vision.

"You will speak to your President."

His entire body feels cold, despite the overwhelming Syrian heat. How has it come to this? How has he become a weapon to be yielded against the one man he'd sworn to protect, to lie for?

"No..."

Another hit to the cheek. He's sure he looks absolutely stunning by now. Everything Theo would want to see when looking for proof of life.

"You have one chance, American."

The man moves away, the cue cards come up, and the light on the camera comes on.

There is a long moment of silence. He is glaring at the cameraman. A silent challenge. The pointed raising of a shotgun is the threat that forces him to, shamefully, draw air into his lungs.

"Hello, Mr. President. We have never met, but I am your servant, all the same."

He'd always told Theo that he was a natural-born liar.