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missathlete31 · 1 year ago

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Left Behind- Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here- aka the chapter where Javy lets Command have it for leaving Jake behind.

Masterlist for all my angst Hangman stories is here

Chapter 2 Summary: We check in on what happened to Jake after he is abandoned behind enemy lines.

Warnings: Angst, injuries, and being captured by enemy forces. This is a very dramatic story folks- be prepared. Also Jake Seresin would be a smartass no matter the situation- we all know it.

On a frigid hill, hundreds of miles from home, Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin woke with a start. His senses immediately became overwhelmed, pain radiating through his body in waves of agony. Opening bleary green eyes slowly, Jake managed to catch a glimpse of his predicament; he was crumbled into the smoldering ruins of his F-18's cockpit, there were excruciating spasms seizing his entire body and the cold mountain air was biting at any exposed flesh it could find.

The memories came back to him slowly, like all meaningful things do, and Jake recalled his heroically dense plan of shielding Rooster from missiles while leaving himself open and unprotected. A part of him wanted to chastise himself for his actions but another part was proud; the others could chide him all they liked but he didn't leave his wingmen and under his leadership the impossible mission was a miraculous success. He wished he had made it back, if only to spare his best friend Javy from the heartbreak, but if someone had to lay their life down, Jake would always choose to sacrifice himself; he had less to go home to.

But Jake wasn't dead yet, no matter how hard the universe tried to make it so.

There was blood running down his face, catching the corner of his eyes from the angle that he laid. His neck felt too sore to move so Jake was stuck blinking the offending liquid out every few seconds, an action that was getting old real quick. He tried to shimmy to move instead, getting rewarded with a shock of pain that left him breathless and on the verge of passing out. When he was able to tamper down the blackness from his vision, Jake spared a better look at his situation and injuries. His head was throbbing with the telltale symptoms of a concussion, his ribs sore with each breath and shift. His left side was squashed into the broken debris of his jet, his head lulled to that side and his shoulder feeling out of its socket. His right leg lay at a sickening angle, his hip holding a piercing ache. His left leg was crunched under the wrecked remnants of his Super Hornet’s dashboard console, only a dull pain which was worrisome to his frazzled mind. He vaguely felt stickiness along his back but Jake couldn’t pinpoint an origin point; the pilot could only hope it wasn’t too fatal.

His synopsis of his state of affairs left one vital fact clear for the American: there was no chance of Jake getting himself out of this dilemma alone, especially when even the slightest movement caused a whimper to escape his throat.

Jake's eyes took to the skies on instinct, but there was no hope there. The sun has risen all the way by now and there was barely a cloud above him. Even more concerning, there was no plane. No teammate or even a foe circling, no one to see the stranded pilot stuck in his craft, locked in a battle over what will kill him first: blood loss or hypothermia.

There was a rational part of Jake's mind that knew command would have ordered his team back, to save who could be saved after Hangman was shot down with no ejection or parachute. But there was also a part, albeit a tiny one, that couldn't help the twinge of disappointment to see no one had turned back for him. Perhaps his parents were right; he amounted to nothing; nothing worth caring about at least. His team had abandoned him and from the lack of any sort of rescue in the sky, it seemed his country had as well.

The day flitted on, and if his wrist watch wasn't broken perhaps Jake could have gauged it better. Instead after an indiscernible amount of time, the sound of voices reached the American's ear. He tried to prepare himself but he was limited. His body still ached, and though time and the temperature had dulled and numbed most of his body, he was still trapped under his jet's debris. Jake had his sidearm, but it was on his left side, crushed into his side as he teetered towards that angle. He knew he had a full magazine, and some extra rounds stashed in his gear but he was in no condition to scale a defensive stand. He would have to be patient and read his opportunity.

Jake hated being patient.

Soldiers trekked into his vision, their uniforms informing Jake that not only were they enemies but the burns and dirt meant they came from the tomahawked airfield a few miles away. They all took peeks into the cockpit with raised weapons, catching a glance at the injured American and sharing smug expressions. The parade of onlookers seemed endless and besides putting into numbers how outgunned Jake was, it didn't help the steady throb in his head. The annoyance pushed Jake into an eye roll that made him border on a nauseous attack, stopped only by his desire to not seem even frailer to his capturers. Instead Jake deflected to where he always went when he was uncomfortable or in pain, his Hangman persona. Channeling his inner asshole, Jake snapped towards the nearest soldier, "Yeah, I know, I'm a vision" he sneered arrogantly, "now will you all stop your gawking and help me?" He was ignored, like he knew he would but Jake felt some vindication when he startled the young soldier back a few paces and the line of guests receded.

The men who surrounded him spoke in a language that Jake should have recognized but couldn't at the moment with the pounding in his head. They talked fast, almost as though excited and Jake could hear the sounds of a pair of footsteps running in the opposite direction, perhaps to alert someone. The others lowered their weapons and while that was at least a little comforting for the injured American, he knew it was because in his current state he didn't pose much risk of escape.

Jake was in a bad situation if he was honest with himself. Alone, surrounded by armed enemy soldiers and injuries that were progressively getting more dire as time went on. It would be easy for the man to start to panic, or beg to his adversaries for some kind of pardon or peace but that was never Hangman's style. Instead he decided to use the language barrier to his advantage and to do the two things Jake was best at besides flying: talking and annoying the crap out of his company.

So Jake talked.

"So since we're all friends" the blonde began sparing a look at the un-amused group around him, "I'm going to let y'all know a few secrets." There were looks of interest from his companions, but all of them carried the faraway look of misunderstanding. "The first" Jake raised a bloody index finger, not noticing he had skimmed it in his crash. He paused a moment looking at it, the blood bringing back some of the pain he was trying so hard to forget about but he shouldered on, "Okay first secret" he got back on track, "Phoenix- she's a female pilot" he made a face, "I know- I know, your culture probably frowns on that but Billy" he called, choosing a random name for the closest soldier to him and going with it, "you really got to embrace the 21st century man, feminism and women's rights. It's very big right now" he lectured. 'Billy' merely stared silently though, so Jake continued his story, "anyway Phoenix, she has these yogurts that she keeps in the ready room fridge which I mean is her first mistake and even worse, she leaves them unmarked! I guess she does it because she knows everyone is too scared to piss her off directly but how is anyone supposed to know for sure they are hers, you know? Play stupid games win stupid prizes am I right Fred?" he turned to the soldier on his left who also ignored him. "Alright maybe Fred doesn't get it but anyway I ate two of them because I mean look at me" he gave a wink to his audience, "a man like me needs his sustenance." Jake gave a chuckle until he felt the pull of pain in his abdomen and he winced. The inflection of pain seemed to get the most reaction from his capturers as something was shouted by the goon named 'Fred' and another puny private was ushered away. Jake spat onto the snow on his side and felt his heart stutter at the red tinge in his saliva. "Well that's not good" he mused softly, seeing 'Billy' share a look of concerned interest. "But alas-" Hangman refused to stop his show, "where was I" he continued, "ah yes Phoenix's yogurt, I ate two of them and she noticed of course, the feisty little bird, and well, I might have blamed Yale. Which-" he gave a grimace, "wasn't the nicest thing to do but he hip checked me during dogfight football so the jerk deserved it. Besides Phoenix was way nicer about it to him than she would have been with me” Jake sighed animatedly, “that Phoenix, she loves to pretend to hate me but how can you hate all this?” he flashed a smile to which his only answer was the sound of wind drifting through the snow and anxious fidgeting from the men around him.

In the distance Jake could hear what sounded like a jeep coming closer which meant the Calvary had arrived. It didn't take a genius to know that the decision about whether Jake was worth the effort to extract was going to be made by someone other than the lowly foot soldiers that had found him but Jake was hoping for a little more time. His stomach churned at the thought of his possible final moments on earth, anticipating a bullet into his brain if his enemies were generous or being left to freeze to death if they weren't. His mind went to Coyote, his promise to his best friend on the deck this morning that he would come back, that they would take a leave together and just be young and stupid like they were in the academy days. Jake stifled a sob at how much his heart ached for his brother Javy, a wet shudder earning him a pleased look from 'Fred'. Jake scowled back and prepared for his next verbal diatribe.

"Alright next secret is that I hate roller-coasters" the American mused loudly, noticing a few of the soldiers sigh from the trademark Hangman annoyance. He really did impress himself with how quickly he could exasperate a room, "ironic I know" Jake jested as he persisted, "especially with this line of profession but something about not being in control" he huffed a sigh, "just never sat well with me you know?" He looked over to see one soldier watching him with narrowed eyes. "I think I'm going to name you Evil Henchman Four." Jake announced to no one in particular, "You're clearly not in charge enough to be one through three." When the man gave no reaction, he continued his monologue, "so anyway back to roller-coasters, I hate them but J-Javy," he ignored the way his voice broke on the man's name and hoped the others did too, "my best friend, the guy loves them, so every time we are on break he makes me go to a Six Flags like a bunch of middle schoolers." He turned to a different soldier, "have you ever been?" When he received no reply, Jake just sighed, "Right communism, not usually big with the amusement parks. Anyway" he drawled, smirking when he noticed a few guys exchanged looks, "I promised Javy that we would go to the New Jersey Six Flags after this mission and ride Kingda Ka which for those of you playing at home might not know is the fastest roller-coaster in the United States." Jake announced the last bit like a game show host, smirking until the newly named Evil Henchmen Four tilted his head. "Have you heard of it?" the blonde asked, strangely excited at the prospect of being understood, "Kingda Ka?"

"No" a deeper voice that was heavily accented answered from his other side, "he hasn't."

Jake turned his neck so fast at the sound of English words, if he didn't already have whiplash, he did now. The pilot winced before recovering, peering out from a hole in his wreckage to catch the insignia of a captain standing before him. "What a chatty little American" the commanding officer reproved with a smirk that looked cartoonishly evil, "all stuck in his plane."

"That's me" Jake smirked cockily, "now would you mind asking one of your silent brooders over there to get me the hell out of here? I think my leg fell asleep."

"And why" the man leaned down to face Jake directly, his brown eyes distressingly wide, "would I have them do that?"

Hangman offered as much of a shrug as he could manage in his position, "because I asked oh so nicely" he brokered, his unease rising as the captain gave a merry laugh. "Oh you are entertaining aren't you? A real Johnny Carson."

"Jesus" the cocky blonde scoffed, "I know I made the joke before but really, what century do you think it is?"

The commander ignored the jab, instead inspecting the ruins of Jake's plane. "Quite the predicament you have yourself in American, all broken and alone."

"Not alone now" Jake knew he should keep his mouth shut but he was never good at following his own advice, "not with my friends Fred, and Billy and Evil Henchmen Number Four." He smiled sideways towards the Captain, "I can give you a name as well but the ones popping up in my head might not be the most flattering."

"You can laugh with your cheerful jokes all you want pilot, we will laugh when your blood finishes coloring the snow." He motioned to under Jake where a steady pool of the vital fluid seemed to be seeping. Jake's body instantly lurched, coming back to the pain that he had spend so much energy trying to ignore and feeling the sticky wet liquid that was dampening even more of his flight suit. Jake raised shock-widened eyes and was rewarded with chuckles, the captain announcing something in his native tongue to the group that had them all looking haughty.

Jake moved his right hand across his body to where he knew his gun was kept. The situation had turned progressively worse and though he had no illusions that he could get out of a gunfight alive, Jake figured it was better than being at the mercy of Captain Chuckles and his band of Merry Men. His movements must have alerted the others because frantic foreign calls started at once and a few weapons were drawn. Jake froze before turning back to the Captain. “What did they say?” he asked, not expecting the truth.

“They are all fighting for the right to shoot you dead. It is quite the honor it seems.”

The blonde pilot gave a short smirk at the news of his impending death, “Well I always like to inspire a crowd” he spoke.

“But you are no use to me dead,” the Captain informed icily, sending a chill down Jake’s spine, “besides lessening a headache.” He reached a hand through the slit and captured Jake’s jaw harshly in his grip, “but I think I can find a better use for that large mouth, don’t you?”

“If you think I’m telling you anything useful” Hangman started, “you might as well kill me now-“

“Where’s the fun in that” the older man turned to two soldier, barking orders that didn’t sound anything like ‘let the nice American pilot go.’ Jake couldn’t contain the shudder through his body as the men came close and began pulling at the debris surrounding his legs. “Stop- shit!” he moaned as a wave of pain assaulted him. But like before no one listened, instead they kept shifting until a particular large piece of the jet came off his leg, a flash of white light blinding his eyes until the sweet relief of unconsciousness beckoned the American under.

When Jake came back to awareness he was being held by Evil Henchmen Four and another soldier that looked so much like his old High School Principal Jake’s concussed mind wondered if Mr. Sergison might have enlisted with a foreign country’s army. His injured body held none of his own weight, instead falling lulled between the two sets of arms. Pain was overpowering his senses, the pilot barely able to comprehend that he was out of the wreckage of his F-18 until a harsh slap smacked against his cheek.

“Where is my talkative American now?” the Captain jeered, slapping two more times and laughing when Jake hissed at the battering. “We rescue you, American, where is our thanks?”

“Thank you” Jake deadpanned, forcing his green eyes up to face his adversary. “Now you think you can drop me off at the airport, oh wait we bombed that to shit right?” His sass was rewarded with two punches to the gut, blood hacked out in rough coughs as he lost his footing and was once more at the mercy of the men who held him.

“Funny you say that” the foreign man explained, “because the good men you kill have new uses.” He motioned behind him where Jake watched ‘Fred’ and another soldier lug a dead body forward. “Strip him” the captain ordered and Jake didn’t have a moment to focus before his tattered remains of his flight suit were ripped off him and he was left in his wife beater and boxer shorts in the harsh winter weather. “At- At least buy me dinner first” Hangman tried to joke but he was pushed into the wet snow without a second glance. Between the pain of his injuries and the numbness of the freezing snow on his exposed skin, Jake cried out with devastating whimpers but all he got for his trouble was a sharp kick to his kidney.

A soldier leaned over him with a hand outstretched and for the strangest moment Jake thought it was to offer him help. Instead the man ripped the dog tags from his neck, leaving the American feeling even more naked than how he felt after his clothes were taken. “Wait-“ he groaned, pushing his body as much as he could to see where the precious metals were going. The soldier handed it to ‘Fred’ who was putting them over the dead foreign body along with Jake’s flight suit. The pair stuffed the body into the wreckage remains then hollered for one of their comrades who stepped forward with an old fashion flamethrower and started to get it ready.

Jake watched it all with a detachment born from his concussion. He couldn’t seem to comprehend what he was witnessing until he was pulled along the snowy terrain until he was a safe distance from the impending flames. The enemy forces gathered together to watch, talking excitedly and with a look of glee as the orange glow seemed to erupt in front of them.

The Captain moved down the line of his men to stand right in front of Jake. “Now they will never find you” his capturer explained, the fiery glow of Jake’s burning Super Hornet washing over his face and making it even more menacing. Jake was slung back over the two enemy soldiers and shuffled forward, away from his jet and the man wearing his dog tags, away from any chance he might ever have of rescue.

One week later a highly trained Navy Seal team was deployed behind enemy lines to the last listed location of Lieutenant Jake Seresin. The soldiers found the crash site quickly, noticing the burned ruins of the Super Hornet and an unidentifiable body inside. They radioed their base headquarters, filling them in on the remains in the pilot’s seat. A calloused hand of the Seal’s leader reached forward, finding the dog-tags that hung from the charred corpse and pulling them gently towards the moonlight. There, reflecting in the lunar glow was the name ‘Jake Seresin’ engraved in the metal. With confirmation back from command, the team carefully extracted the destroyed body and packed it with respect to bring home.

A moratorium was issued the next morning to all Navy personnel, stating that Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin was officially KIA.

When Javy Machado received the news, he collapsed to the ground in an anguished cry. His friends and teammates huddled around him; working together to try to provide even the smallest semblance of comfort but it was futile. Javy cried for his best friend and cursed the Navy, the Daggers, and everyone else to all hell for taking his brother from him. He and the rest of the team were put on a mandatory grievance leave while the details of Jake’s funeral was set in Coyote’s hands; the only person in the world to claim Jake as family.

Meanwhile the man Coyote and the rest of the team mourned for laid in a bunker tied up. His body tortured over the past week, bleeding and battered and disfigured. Jake’s larynx hurt from all his abuse but still he found just the tiniest voice each night to pray, whispering out to the stars for his friends and his country not to give up on him.

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