Lee chapter 46

[maculategiraffe]

Lee hadn't realized until now just how dependent he'd gotten on the sensation of being watched over by a gentle, merciful master: everything in him was attuned to the man who was now sound asleep. Lee knew it was silly and selfish of him, knew his master badly needed the rest, but he did not like his master being asleep, especially when Bran wasn't there. And the mistress was acting odd, too. It wasn't that he thought she'd hurt him, but the master was the one who had said, holding Lee close, "You are always safe with me." Lee wished he dared just crawl onto the cot, under the blanket, between his master's arms, and burrow against his chest-- he didn't want to wake him, just to join him. To be with him, and safe.

But whereas a waking master could have reached out and pulled Lee closer, kissed him and murmured endearments and thus made Lee feel safe and good no matter what foolishness he'd attempted, asleep he could do nothing of the sort. And it was probably best not to make it clear to the mistress, at whose mercy Lee currently was, how much he'd prefer to be at someone else's.

The real problem was that, having been too nervous to eat breakfast, and too stunned to eat before being allowed to come to the hospital, Lee was now beginning to feel absolutely ravenous. He looked up at the clock by the door and was startled to realize it was dinnertime; the master had been asleep for more than four hours.

He wasn't particularly surprised that so much time had passed without his noticing it or becoming restless; Lee didn't often become restless, maybe because he hadn't often had much chance to rest. He didn't mind having nothing to do, since when you weren't doing anything, you couldn't do it wrong. He'd never minded being put in that basement room and left there in the dark, either, even in chains. It was preferable to the alternative.

But now he was really hungry; there was a dull, fuzzed ringing in his head, a blurriness around the edges of his vision, a tingling all over, that brought with them a rush of familiar but nearly-forgotten shame, fear, and misery. He only felt like this when he'd been badly behaved enough to forfeit the privilege of eating for several consecutive mealtimes.

It wasn't the hunger that was disturbing, so much as it was the feelings that went along with it-- this hunger wasn't a punishment, of course, but the physical sensation still brought along the same fear and the same desire to beg for mercy and forgiveness that Lee always felt when he was in disgrace. He wished Bran were here; he wished his master were awake. If Bran were here, Lee could move closer to him, press up against him, and he'd have Bran's full attention at once, and Bran would speak to the mistress for him and make her understand; if the master were awake and Lee were kneeling at his feet, he could put a hand on the master's knee, and the master would look down at him and put a hand over his and say, You okay there, sweetheart? You look a little pale. And whether Lee got anything to eat or not, he wouldn't have to be frightened, or ashamed.





"What time is it?" the master asked suddenly, from his cot.

"Seven," said the mistress.

The master sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Fuck. Let's go home."

"Not yet," said the mistress. "They don't want us to, yet. Jer's tests still aren't finished, and--"

"What's the fucking holdup?" the master demanded. "Do we have to spend all night here?"

"Be patient, darling," said the mistress. "These things take time."

"Yesterday Bran had a horrific emotional ordeal," said the master, "and this morning he watched one of his best friends get pounded into the ground by the guy who used to beat and rape him and another one of his best friends. Call me crazy, but I'd like to get home and check on him."

The mistress frowned. "I understand that. But until you get home, Yves can--"

"Yves is in charge of a confused and disoriented total stranger," said the master, "plus the press corps outside, plus the telephone, and the gods know what else. And-- fuck!"

"What?" the mistress asked, alarmed.

"Valor was saying she might come home," said the master. "I do not want her alone with Yves."

The mistress shook her head. "She won't be alone with him. Greta will be--"

"You know what I mean," said the master. "I don't want Val to be the only free person in the house. I don't want him in that--"

He broke off, with a peculiar expression on his face, and his eyes swung around to Jer, who'd opened his eyes and was watching him cautiously, and then to Lee, who jumped a little.

"Have they eaten?" he asked the mistress.

"Oh---" said the mistress guiltily, and Lee hunched his shoulders under their combined worried looks.

"I'll take him to the cafeteria," said the master. "They'll bring Jer a tray, right?"

"Chain a guy to a bed, they better at least bring him food," said Jer. "Go feed the kid."

"I--" The mistress' brow was furrowed. "I'm sure they'll bring Lee something, too, if we ask."

"Be quicker just to take him downstairs," said the master, looking at her curiously.

"Holden," she said, "darling, we need to be-- cautious, here."

The master looked surprised. "I thought they were calling for enhanced security. Aren't they here yet? Don't tell me the cafeteria isn't secure. I just want to grab Lee a sandwich and maybe something hot to drink-- we can bring it right back up here, if you don't think we should linger."

"I don't think you should go at all," said the mistress.

"I can go by myself," said the master after a moment. "Bring something back for Lee."

She shook her head. "Holden, I really think it's better if you stay here for the moment."

"What's up?" he asked her, but she shook her head.

He stared at her for a minute, and then said, "Okay. Jer, push the call button thing."

"I can't," said Jer, opening his eyes. "Can't get to it, cuffed like this. You have to."

"This country is so fucked up," said the master, and walked over to press the button for the nurse. "Lee, are you just hungry, or is something else wrong?"

"I'm okay, master," said Lee, mostly truthfully, but he flinched when the master gave him a searching look. The master came towards him, and Lee went to his knees; the master reached him and knelt down beside him, putting his arms around Lee. Lee put up his arms too, to pull his master closer, trembling with the warmth and strength of the embrace, which his body understood even more instinctively than it understood hunger as punishment.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," said the master, and his voice was another warmth, slipping inside Lee like a hot sweet draught, driving out the fear. "I should have thought to make sure you got fed, before I let them knock me out."

"No, I'm sorry," said the mistress worriedly. "I'm the one who was awake, I should have-- and the poor boy hardly ate at breakfast, either; he must be famished. I'm sorry, Lee-- I just wasn't thinking."

"It isn't like you not to be thinking," said the master, sounding curious rather than angry, but Lee tightened his grip anyway, praying they weren't about to start arguing, especially not over him. "Alix, what's going on?"

Before the mistress answered, the door opened, and the master said, "Hey, can we-- uh, you're not a nurse."

"You seem somewhat recovered," said the doctor's voice. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," said the master, stroking Lee's hair. "Something to eat. I was just going to take Lee down to the cafeteria--"

"I don't think that's a good idea," the doctor interrupted.

"Neither did Alix," said the master after a moment. "So we were hoping someone could bring us up something. Something for Jer, too."

"Of course," said the doctor. "I'll see you get something as quickly as possible. Lee shouldn't be-- I'll send a nurse to get you something. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah," said the master again. "Tell me what's going on. Is there a riot going on downstairs? Did Dunaev escape from jail and go on a rampage? Is the floor littered with bodies? Halls running with the blood of the innocent?"

Lee sat up, startled, and the doctor said sharply, "Please, Mr. Larssen!"

"What?" said the master. "You think Lee can't handle knowing it, whatever it is? This kid has been through seven hells and lived to tell about it-- and he knows nothing bad's going to happen to him while we're here."

"I could be more help with that if you'd fucking unchain me," said Jer, and added, "Ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. Sorry, master."

"Don't apologize," said the doctor, but the master didn't say anything. Lee looked at him worriedly, hoping he wasn't angry at Jer; the master had looked up at Jer, who was looking back at him, and Lee couldn't quite read the expression on either face. They stared at each other for a minute while the doctor was saying, "Believe me, I wish we could take off the cuff, but it's administrative policy. But in any case, you don't need to worry about protecting Lee, or being attacked, as long as you stay up here until security has given us the all-clear. I'll make sure you get fed."

"Thank you," said the mistress firmly, before the master could say anything, and the doctor turned and left.

"I don't like this, Alix," said the master, sitting back on the floor and pulling Lee into his lap, back to chest; Lee leaned his head back against his master's shoulder. "Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?"

"You were supposed to stay asleep longer," said the mistress, about half jokingly.

The master spread his palm out on Lee's chest as he answered in the same tone, "Then you shouldn't have let Lee get so hungry. You know I have internal alarms for that sort of thing."

"I do know that," said the mistress, smiling a little. "Holden-- love-- I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that?"

It was a few moments before Lee felt his master nod.









A nurse brought four trays, with the same thing on all of them: a glass of milk, pink fish with white sauce, faded broccoli, and a pale, soft roll of bread, with a pat of butter next to it. Lee and the master sat side by side on the cot to eat. It wasn't particularly good food compared to what Lee had been eating lately, but it was a lot better than what he'd tended to get before Mr. Larssen bought him, and he knew from experience that hunger made the inedible edible and the acceptable delicious. He tried not to eat too quickly; his master's hand on his back soothed him and made it easier to chew a reasonable number of times before swallowing.

When Lee's plate was empty, he felt a little better; he also felt more at leisure to worry about Bran, and to wonder what secret his mistress was keeping from his master, and to want to go home.

The nurse came back to take the trays away. The master got up and started pacing. Jer pulled on the cuff.

The doctor finally came back in.

"He's fine," she said, walking across the room, producing a small key, and unlocking the cuff on Jer's wrist. Jer yanked his wrist into his other hand, rubbing furiously, as she added, "I've got some discharge papers for you to sign, and we'd like a follow-up in a couple of weeks, but for now, you're free to go."

"Finally!" said the master. "Do we need an escort or anything?"

The doctor shook her head. "I don't think that will be necessary."






It wasn't necessary. The hospital wasn't crowded, although there were an awful lot of security officers hanging around, and a few stalwart members of the press remaining; it was the same once they walked outside to the parking lot. Lee had curled into the crook of his master's arm, pressing up against his side, while Jer, moving stiffly but strongly, walked on Lee's other side, arm in arm with the mistress, ignoring the eager flashing of the cameras and yelling of questions from reporters whom the security officers kept out of their path. When they got to the car, the master went straight for the driver's seat, garnering a surprised look from the mistress before she opened the back door to help Jer in, and then helped Lee in the other side before getting into the front passenger's seat herself. Jer reached across to take Lee's hand in his; Lee looked up at him, startled, and Jer smiled at him.

The master drove too fast on the way home, and Lee clung involuntarily to Jer's hand. Jer squeezed back and said, "Where's the fire, master?"

"At our house, for all I know," said the master darkly, not slowing down.

For a moment, when they pulled up in front of the house, Lee thought maybe there had been a fire; in addition to the mob of press, there were police cars, a lot more than they had left, their lights flashing. The master cursed as he pulled in, tires squealing, practically falling out of the car the moment it had come to a stop, and charging towards the house without bothering to close the door behind him. Two police officers stopped him, one grabbing each arm, as a lightning storm of camera flashes played around them.

"Take your fucking hands off me!" the master yelled, twisting against their grip. The mistress opened the car door for Jer; Lee sat in the car, waiting, watching.

"Who are you?" one of the officers asked, still holding the master firmly.

"I'm the fucking owner of the house!" the master yelled, and as the small police officer who'd arrested Lord Dunaev earlier hurried over, "Vinland, what the fuck is going on here?"

"It's okay," said Vinland to the other officers. "This is Larssen-- and Jamesen, and the other slaves. Mr. Larssen, please try to calm down. There's been... an incident."

"Where are my--" The master shoved at the officers' restraining hands.

"Sir," said one of the officers. "I'm afraid we have bad news."

The master broke away from them at that and towards the house, while Lee sat frozen in the car, and Vinland ran after him. Jer stood still, and said to the police officers who had elected not to chase the master, "What happened?"

The officer looked at him, and then at the mistress, who was holding the car door open for Lee now, but Lee still couldn't quite move.

"We think the article must have drawn the attention of-- certain radical groups," said one of the officers to the mistress. "If we had realized, we could have left a stronger detail here, but once most of the press had followed you and your husband to the hospital, and with Lord Dunaev in prison, we didn't really think it necessary. The extremists overpowered our officers and-- well--"

Jer made a sudden move towards the house, too, but when one officer stepped in front of him, he stopped. The master and Vinland had already disappeared into the house.

"And what?" the mistress asked quietly.

"We have no reason to think anyone has been harmed," said the officer. "The thieves appear to be affiliated with the abolitionist movement. Naturally they wouldn't wish to--"

Jer did start running then, his face twisted with pain from the effort, and when the officer went to grab his arm, the mistress shoved the officer in the chest and went running after Jer. The officer stumbled back, taken by surprise, and then shook his head and looked at Lee.

"Don't take it so hard, boy," he said, not unkindly. "Maybe they'll come back later and steal you, too."