Crossing The Line

Summary: Paul decides that someone needs to teach one of the thugs a lesson
Warning(s): Spanking with a belt; spoilers for the book Hell Train; AU; references to violence and canon character death

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Kyle swallowed hard, looking at the dead body of the train driver, and had to fight back the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him. He wanted to scream and rail against the injustice of it all, as they all stared at him with accusing, judgmental eyes. Even Jay, who'd originally stood with him and Mudz, now stood with the rest of them, staring at Kyle like he was a monster.

Mudz was gone, though Kyle didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. The others who had died, the man with the heart attack and the old who'd been killed by dogs...even her husband. They'd all disappeared. "He's not gone," he whispered dumbly.

Paul scowled. "What?"

"The train driver." Kyle raised a trembling finger and pointed it at the man on the floor. The man he'd stabbed. "He's still there. Ain't he? Not like them others. They all went. Like they never existed." He looked at each of them in turn, insisting, "Right?"

Paul grunted under his breath and moved closer to Kyle, then reached out and grasped his hands, twisting them painfully behind his back.

Kyle craned his neck to see the other, still living passengers of the train staring at him and Paul. Not one of them seemed willing or prepared to step in and help him; not even Clip, who'd been one of the voices of reason since everything had started going to hell. She just stared at him with hollow eyes, her hands stained with her boyfriend's blood, as Paul frogmarched him into the driver's compartment and pulled the door closed behind them.

Paul gave Kyle a shove in the middle of his back and ordered harshly, "Bend over the console."

When Kyle looked at the man, it was to see him removing his thick, wide leather belt. He pulled it through the loops with a sound that made Kyle's stomach churn, then doubled it over in his hand. As he did so, he looked up and caught Kyle's eye, scowling even darker. "I told you to bend over."

"Why?" Kyle didn't move.

"I'm gonna do what your daddy shoulda done and tan your ass."

Kyle swallowed again, sweat forming on his palms. He wiped them on his trousers as he whispered, "I don't got a daddy or a mum. Alls I got left is Mudz. If'n you didn't kill him." He sniffled and wiped a hand across his eyes.

Paul's scowl softened a little and he sighed. "He's not dead. Not yet, anyway. We took him to the next carriage. Left him tied up. For our own protection." He gentled his tone slightly as he said, "You've got to understand that your friend made some bad choices. He killed one person and severely wounded another."

"He ain't my friend," Kyle whispered. "He's my brother. Closest thing I've got to one, anyway." He looked down at his feet, shuffling slightly, before admitting, "But he shouldn't have done what he did. He went too far." He'd gone too far, too. He'd lashed out without thinking about it, letting instinct take over...and someone else was dead because of him.

Wiping at his eyes again, Kyle drew in a deep, shuddering breath and gave the belt in Paul’s hand a nervous look. He then turned to face the console and bent over, bracing his hands against the surface. He then waited, nervously, for the first strike of the belt.

When it came, it wasn't as painful as Kyle had expected it to be...although it did hurt. His breath hissed out in a sharp gasp and his hands curled into fists as a second stroke landed just below the first, before a third line of fire was delivered.

The strokes were painful, but couldn't really be termed as the worst pain Kyle had ever experienced. He'd been in fights before and ended up with broken bones and black eyes. Compared to that, being lashed with a belt shouldn't have been that painful.

But those other times, he'd been fighting back instead of accepting the pain another person was inflicting on him. He was trying to force down his natural instincts, which were to fight back and put a stop to this terrible, awful punishment.

But he'd fought back once already, and it had ended up with someone getting killed. He knew Mudz had decided there was no point in holding back anymore, since he'd already crossed that line, but that wasn't how Kyle felt. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone...and he didn't want to hurt anyone now.

The fiery pain of the belt landing on his backside hurt badly enough, but the worst pain was thinking about the train driver; the man he'd killed. He didn't even know his name....

Through the tears that had begun running down his cheeks, Kyle whispered, "What was his name? The train driver? The man I...killed?" His voice faltered.

"Dan. His name was Dan." Paul delivered two more strikes from the belt, across Kyle's sit spots...right where he'd feel it when he sat down...and then rested his hand on Kyle's back, rubbing gently. "It's over, son."

Kyle was breathing heavily, the tears still running down his cheeks. He wiped futilely at them as he straightened up slowly, reaching back to rub gingerly at his bottom as he forced himself to look up into Paul's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I believe you are, son." Paul replaced his belt around his waist and then placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Maybe you'll have some influence over getting your friend to listen to reason."

"Maybe." Kyle wasn't so sure he'd be able to get Mudz to listen to him, but he was willing to at least try. "What if Dan's body isn't gone?" He looked at Paul, trusting the older man to know what to do.

"Then maybe it's another clue to what's going on." Paul squeezed his shoulder, then steered him towards the door.

For the first time since they'd become trapped on this train...Kyle had the faint sense of hope.

The End