Lee chapter four

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"Yves wanted me to give you this," said Alix when she arrived the next morning, handing Holden a folded paper, which he opened and read quickly.

Esteemed master,

If I know you, you're getting a bad case of weltschmerz and general despondency over the State of Things sitting by that poor kid in the dark (even though Bran's probably trying to take the night and day watches both), so here's something to occupy your mind, if not more productively, at least less depressingly. I have carefully tempered it to your level of mathematical skill, so if you don't have it solved by the time Lee comes home from the hospital, I'll... well, I'll probably get spanked for my trouble, but at least in the meantime you'll have something to do with your head besides brood on all the evils of the world as personified by Lord Dunaev. I miss you. Yves.

Below the signature was a series of mathematical symbols, a graph, and a set of directions beginning "Prove that..." Holden laughed and refolded the paper, tucking it into his notebook and putting the notebook back in the bag.

"He knows me way too well," he said, accepting the paper cup of coffee that Alix handed him next. "How is everything?"

"Fine. You know. We miss you. How are things here?"

"I wouldn’t know," said Holden. "I haven’t done a thing. Bran’s been taking care of Lee like an old pro."

"You're a good boy, Bran," said Alix appreciatively. "You take your master downstairs now and get him to eat some breakfast. I'll sit with Lee for a bit."

"But-- please, mistress," said Bran uncomfortably, and lowered his eyes when she looked up at him with mild surprise that Holden shared; Bran usually leaped to obey Alix on the infrequent occasions when she gave him a direct order. Holden didn't think the kid had ever quite gotten over his gratitude to Alix for, as he'd said once to Holden with rather undiplomatic candor, "letting you keep me." "I promised Lee I'd stay with him."

"Well," said Alix thoughtfully, "let's ask him if he minds, shall we? Lee?"

Lee swallowed convulsively.

"This is the mistress," Bran said gently to Lee. "You remember hearing her talk before, right? Buying you from the-- from Lord Dunaev? And she said the master would carry you to the car if you couldn't walk?"

"But he didn't," said Lee emphatically, looking only at Bran. "You did."

"Because I asked if I could. Because I wanted to take care of you. And they let me because they want to take care of you too, both of them. You already talked to the master, and he told you he wants to make things okay for you. Can you talk to the mistress now?"

"Yes," Lee whispered, and his eyes were on Alix. "Mistress--"

"Hello, Lee," said Alix very gently. "Bran's right, I just want to help take care of you. Do you think you could let me sit with you for a bit, while Bran goes to get something to eat? He and your master are rather hungry, and between you and me, your master doesn't always eat as well as he should when I'm not there. But Bran will take good care of him, just like he's been taking good care of you. And he’ll be back before you know it."

Lee seemed to consider this, and Holden, not for the first time, admired Alix's skill at making it sound like everything made perfect sense, really, and the kid could be part of the sense-making if he just followed her few minor, helpful suggestions. It worked perfectly with nine out of ten fifteen-year-olds, though most of the kids Holden dealt with wouldn't have bought it-- usually not much had made sense to them for a long time, and Holden started from there.

“Mistress?” said Bran softly.

“Yes, dear.”

“Do you think you could promise not to ask him any questions? Until I get back? I think that might– make him feel better. Safer.”

Lee looked up at Bran with pure astonished adoration; Alix saw the look and smiled a little. “Yes, I can promise that. I won’t ask you any questions until Bran gets back, Lee. I won’t even talk to you if you’d rather I didn’t.”

Lee nodded and took a breath before he said very softly, “Thank you, mistress. I can– yes, I can– You’ll come back soon?" he asked Bran.

"Very soon," said Bran, and bent down, unexpectedly, to kiss Lee on the forehead. "Thank you, Lee. See, you said you weren’t brave, but you are, aren’t you?"

Lee smiled up at him trustingly. Alix looked from him to Bran, then looked up at Holden.

"Should we be paying him?" she murmured.




"Master?" said Bran when the two of them had settled down at a table in the corner of the crowded hospital cafeteria, with food that looked neither appetizing nor healthy.

"Hmm?" said Holden absently, thinking about Lee.

"You're pleased with me?"

Holden focused, regarding Bran curiously. "You know I'm always pleased with you, sweetheart."

"But I mean--" Bran squirmed. "Because of Lee."

"Yes. You're-- I told you last night how impressed I am with you, Bran. You're being absolutely amazing."

"Thank you, master." Bran hesitated, squirming a little. "You-- and the mistress, too-- you were joking about paying me."

"Sure," said Holden, surprised. "Why? You mean-- is there something you want, Bran? As-- payment?"

Bran flushed. "Not as payment. I belong to you. Anything I can do for you-- but if you're pleased-- especially pleased with me-- could I ask a favor?"

"Of course," said Holden, rather intrigued. Bran hardly ever asked for anything, let alone anything big enough to require Holden to be "especially pleased" before he'd grant it.

"I--" Bran hesitated. "You won't be angry?"

"I'm not angry with you very often, love. Have you done something wrong?"

"No, but--" Bran lowered his gaze. "I– last night, when you touched me, and I p-pulled away--"

The sudden stutter betrayed how hard Bran found it to bring up the incident. Holden spoke carefully.

"Yes. It's all right, Bran. You didn't do anything wrong. But I did want to ask you about it. It surprised me."

"It's just--" said Bran, his eyes still down. "Master-- when I first came to you-- I was afraid of Yves, in the beginning. Not just because-- I was afraid of everyone--" He glanced up briefly and gave Holden a small, rueful smile before dropping his gaze again. "But because he spoke so freely to you, and you touched each other like-- friends-- and I knew he was-- your, I guess I would have said then, your pet. A favorite."

"Okay," said Holden, considering this. "And that was a bad thing for you because--"

"Because-- I guess because-- he might see me as competition? Or be threatened by me, somehow? I didn't know then how things were, with you-- and Lord Oreskovich had a girl-- Niss. She, she slept in his bed, and the rest of us were--" He paused, obviously struggling with the memory. Bran almost never talked about his past; the few questions Holden had ever asked him had been met with such obvious discomfort that he'd never pursued it. "We had pretty good reason to be afraid of pissing her off. Or even– pleasing the master too well– in case she got jealous."

Holden nodded. "So you're saying-- what? You’re afraid Lee will– see– that I love you? So–“

“I’d rather you didn’t– caress me,” said Bran, still staring at his untouched plate. “Or, you know, kiss me, or– call me love. In front of Lee.”

“Oh,” said Holden.

Bran drew in his breath, and his voice shook when he spoke. "You are angry."

"No." Holden was silent for a moment, willing his own voice to come out with no edge to it. "I understand. We need Lee to keep trusting you. And nobody trusts the master's pet. Can't have it looking like you're consorting with the enemy."

"Master, please," said Bran miserably, hunching his shoulders. "Don't– sound like that."

So much for no edge.

"I'm sorry, kid," said Holden quietly. "It's just– you’ve got to understand that it's a little strange for me, to have you ask me not to touch you. As a-- special favor. But, Bran, you've been a lot better at understanding Lee and, well, anticipating his needs-- Yes. I'll try to remember not to start cuddling you in front of him, at least until he’s a bit more– understands a bit better, what’s going on. No promises when we're out of his line of sight, though, if that's all right with you."

Bran looked up at him sharply, and a quiver passed over his face as he gazed at Holden, then said quietly, "Thank you, master."

"You really think Lee would feel that way?" Holden added thoughtfully, cutting up his food and beginning to eat. "I mean, I believe you, but you just said Oreskovich, and Lee never belonged to him. Dunaev didn't have-- pets, did he? Or favorites? I thought he only owned one at a time."

"He-- well-- yes.” Bran flushed a little. “But Dunaev-- oh, master, this is kind of messed up, but– when he first bought me from Lord Oreskovich-- well, you know, I'd run away, and they'd beaten me pretty badly when they caught me. Worse because I was fighting back. And then Dunaev beat me all over again when he got me home-- and afterwards, he threw me in a room-- actually, that same room Lee was in-- that was my room, too, master, when I was with him. Isn't that--"

He didn't say what it was, though Holden had a few ideas. His hands were white-knuckled in his lap, twitching with the desire to spatter Dunaev's brains all over his own fucking basement cell, but he kept his eyes on Bran's face as the kid kept talking.

"Anyway, there was this girl there, already in the room, when he pushed me in there. A slave, you know, wearing Dunaev's color, and older than I was. Maybe twenty or so. She looked fine, I mean she wasn't beaten up or sick or anything, but she looked-- sad. And she just said, 'Hi.' Like she'd been expecting-- that. You know. A beat-up bleeding kid shoved into the room with her, and sort of collapsing, which is what I'd done-- and then she said, 'Please don't tell me your name,' and I said 'why?' and she said, 'Because I don't want to get attached.'"

"Bran--"

"Yeah, it kind of freaked me out. But she said, 'Oh, I don't mean you, I mean me. I'm on my way out. He only likes one at a time, and my breasts are starting to sag. I hope you'll be okay. You don't look all that strong. But don't tell me your name.'"

He repeated the words with such distant-eyed precision that it was obvious they'd made a powerful impression on him, and no wonder; he'd probably had cause to ponder them often enough in the year that followed.

"So did he sell her?" Holden managed.

"Yeah. You know. Normally. She was in okay condition. Thin and all, but he-- not all his--" Bran took a deep breath, then exhaled, trying to calm himself. "Master?"

"I'm listening," said Holden quietly.

"You're going to want to interrupt me," said Bran with a hint of a smile. "But please don't, until I'm finished."

Holden smiled back at him. "Okay."

"I know Lord Dunaev is-- a bad person," Bran began. "But he didn't mistreat all his slaves-- like he did Lee. And me. That girl-- I never knew her name, she wouldn't tell it to me, but we talked, some, for the next few days, until he got her sale finalized. And she said he'd given her a pretty bad beating her first day-- just to, sort of, I guess, show her who was master-- but after that he didn't-- She said she was able to adjust. She had adjusted. He didn't hit her every day, she earned extra food pretty often, she did everything he wanted and he didn't-- hate her. And the boy who'd been there before her, he was sold normally too, after a couple of years, not because the mast-- Lord Dunaev was angry with him or anything, just tired of him. The same thing had happened to her, see, she'd been thrown into the room with the boy she was about to replace-- anyway, the point is, master, that's why I thought there was something wrong with me, because-- I couldn't please him. I couldn't-- adjust. And obviously it was possible to adjust. I just couldn't do it.

"And you've been so good to me, you've-- loved me-- so much." He smiled, a real smile, the dazzling one that made Holden feel like he'd swallowed sunlight. "But even before I knew you loved me, I knew-- you-- how do I say this? From the very first, you've always been so-- pleased with me. Delighted with me. It made me feel-- and especially when you'd worked with so many slaves-- it was like-- see, master, I thought I was a bad slave. I told you you'd want to interrupt me. Please, just-- I know now that I'm not a bad slave, not when-- my basic needs are met. Is that what you were going to say? No, you were going to curse more. But that was the gist, right?"

Holden grinned and said nothing.

Bran continued, sobering, "And it's not just you who thinks I'm-- good. Yves and Jer and my mistress and Greta, they all really like me, and Fox, and the kids you work with, and most of your friends and most of their slaves, so I know I'm not-- But I never felt like I do now, with Lee."

Holden waited as Bran stared over his shoulder, considering.

"He looks at me," he said finally, "and he sees-- I don't know what he sees. Someone-- not real. A hero. You know?"

"I know," said Holden quietly.

Bran smiled at him again. "That must be how you felt, with me, at first, yeah?"

Sometimes it's still how I feel, with you. Did he dare say that? No. "Yeah."

"But I look back at him," Bran continued, "and I see-- master, here’s the thing, Lee is-- just a kid. Like I was. Whatever Dunaev had against me, whatever it was I did or didn't do, that I was a bad liar and couldn’t control my facial expressions, or that I just fucking hated him and couldn’t pretend anything else– but master, I thought I was a coward for running away. I couldn't have imagined fighting back, getting rebellious and kicking and biting, like some of the kids do, but I thought it was wrong for me to run away. I thought I should have stayed and-- gotten better. I thought I was bad, I thought I deserved to get sold to-- you," he said, and laughed before adding, "Maybe I did. Maybe Lee did too."

"You both deserved better," said Holden ruefully, "but given your options--"

"Please, master, let me finish. I'm just saying-- I was a kid. I never really realized how-- young I was. And how nobody, no kid, deserves that shit. Just because the others were better than me-- and Lee-- at not getting beaten up and starved half to death, that doesn't mean it was our fault. Lee didn't deserve what happened to him-- and neither did I. I know I should have known that already, I know you've told me a million times, but-- now I know."

Holden reached across the table and took Bran's hand in his, trying to control his grip so that he didn't crush the kid's fingers. Bran squeezed his hand back, hard.

"So anyway--" Bran paused for a moment, looking startled. "What was I saying? I started to say--"

Holden had no idea, but he forced his memory back and finally said, "Uh, why Lee might think, might be worried about a master's pet."

"Oh," said Bran. "Right. Because of the, um. Dunaev, how he-- only liked one at a time. Lee might think-- he might worry that I'd see him as competition? As the– replacement. You know. If he thinks, if he sees that I, uh. You know. Love you."

There was something oddly fidgety about Bran's manner now, but Holden couldn't decode it, and his head was already spinning with everything Bran had just said. He never talked this much about himself. It was going to take a while for Holden to digest it all, and-- "Bran?"

"Master?"

"I don't mean to rush you, but we did tell Lee you'd be back soon."

"Oh, shit," said Bran, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Let's get back now."

"But you haven't eaten anything," Holden pointed out.

"I'm not hungry, master."

"You've gotten yourself all worked up," said Holden, looking uneasily at the high flush of color in Bran's cheeks and the brilliance of his eyes. "You don't think you're getting sick again, do you?"

Bran laughed. "Again? You act like I get sick often, master."

"Well, you have before, and this place is crawling with sick people," said Holden. "Try to eat something, Bran, if you can. Or I could always sit you in my lap and hand-feed you. Give these nice people a show."

Bran grinned, obediently beginning to cut up his food. "Funny, isn't it, master, being around-- people who aren't used to slaves."

"It is," Holden agreed. "I was thinking that too. Like last night, Denys-- You stop smirking at me this instant, you little brat, before I turn you over my knee and give the nice people a different kind of show."

Bran dropped his gaze, the corners of his mouth still twitching. "I'm sorry, master. What were you about to say about Denys?"

"Never mind,” said Holden, shaking his head and smiling back. “Eat."