Lee chapter 47

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Holden stumbled into the house, blind with terror; he felt something or someone brush past him in the doorway, but he didn't have time to wonder what, because Yves was in his arms, kissing his neck, saying in his ear, "It's okay, master, it's okay, we're okay."

Holden couldn't speak, and then he saw Bran over Yves' shoulder, and nearly buckled at the knees.  Yves supported him, and Bran hurried in to wrap arms around them both; Holden clung to them for a dizzying few moments, trying to kiss both their faces at once, and they laughed.  Holden had never heard a sweeter sound.

"Greta?" he managed finally.

"I think she was the redheaded lightning bolt that just hit the mistress halfway across the lawn," said Jer from behind Holden.  "So everyone's fine, right? My fucking heart can start again, right?"

"We're fine," said Yves, still kissing and stroking Holden. "Master, you have to be calm, okay? Everything's okay. I mean--"

"Lee," said Bran, and Holden turned his head to see a tall policeman standing in the doorway, holding Lee's arm with unnecessary firmness, as if the boy might bolt.  Jer stood a little further inside, glaring daggers at the officer, but not making a move.

"Let him go," said Holden to the officer, his voice coming out in a sort of rasping growl. When the officer obeyed, hastily, Lee scooted further inside, his eyes huge, and ducked mostly behind Jer.  

"Hi, Dad," said Valor, and Holden looked up again, distractedly, to see her standing there with her back against the wall, looking pale and scared and uncertain.  But then he had something else to think about, because he'd finally remembered who had to be hurt, or missing, if Yves and Bran and Greta were all okay.  "Gwen--"

"Gwen," Officer Vinland agreed from behind him.  "She's the only one who was taken."

"Taken?" Holden managed.

"I think you should sit down," said Vinland.

"No," Holden began, but Yves was already steering him, gently but firmly, towards the stairs.  Holden submitted, looking up and seeing, through the open doorway, his wife, who was sitting on the grass, tangled up with Greta and kissing her deeply, tears streaming down her face.  

"Don't let go," he said to Yves and Bran, clinging to their hands, and they sat down on either side of him, pressing up hard against him; Bran put his head down on Holden's shoulder and Yves put an arm across his back.  "What happened?  Who—"
 
"According to the statements by your slaves," said Officer Vinland, standing over him so that his eyes met her knees, which he was fine with, "a gang of either five or six masked suspects, male and female, arrived at about six o'clock, overpowered the police officers, took their weapons, shot out the lock of your front door, and kidnapped Gwen while holding the rest of your slaves at gunpoint."
 
Holden thought there was probably an appropriate profanity for the situation, but he had never had the opportunity to learn it, even if he could have gotten his voice to obey him at that moment.
 
"We're all fine, master," said Yves softly, and kissed Holden's cheek.  "They didn't hurt us.  They didn't even threaten us-- well, aside from pointing the guns at us."
 
Holden made a sound that might have been a laugh if his throat had been less dry, but came out more like a death rattle.
 
"They said they didn't want to hurt anyone," Yves went on.  "They said they were just here to take Gwen to safety, and that the rest of us could come too, if we wanted.  But when we said we didn't, they didn't try to make us, and they didn't seem all that surprised."
 
"I guess they read the article," said Officer Vinland, and Holden looked up at her, but her face didn't have any particular expression on it.  "About forty-five minutes later, Miss Larssen arrived home, accompanied by a young woman she identified as Inga, her own slave.  She stated that she had decided to come home on hearing of all the media attention, to give her support to her parents, and was unaware of the events that had transpired since the morning.  She was distressed by the news of the robbery, but relieved to find that the slaves she knew were all safe."  She looked down at Holden and added, "She said she could take over, but we didn't want to leave until you were home."
 
"Good decision," said Alix from the doorway, her arm around Greta's waist, looking pale and faintly tearstained, but composed as ever.  "Where is Inga?"

"Upstairs," said Valor. "The police were making her nervous, so I told her she could go wait in my room."
 
Vinland nodded to Alix.  "We'll leave a stronger detail outside tonight, and they'll be more on their guard this time, but are there any other precautions you'd like us to take?"

"No," said Alix.  "I think we'll be okay.  Thank you."

There was more conversation over Holden's head, but he didn't listen; he was too busy holding Yves and Bran close, shaking uncontrollably with a combination of rage at the violation of his home, worry over Gwen, and a relief so overwhelming that it threatened tears or hysterics if he tried to speak. Yves and Bran stroked and kissed him from either side; the door closed, which was a small but noticeable relief, and Alix was answering some questions from the police, and then the door opened again and the police were gone, and Valor was standing in front of Alix and her mother, biting her lip, and it was Greta who asked, calmly, "What do you know about this, young lady?"
 
Valor smiled weakly.
 
"I can explain," she said. 








Jer didn't want to hear the explanation ("I don't care about Gwen," he said reasonably.  "I never even met her"), so he let an unbelievably calm Alix steady him up the stairs, while Lee knelt down at Holden's feet, clinging to one of Holden's legs and one of Bran's, with his head resting on both at once.  Greta stood with her back to the door, examining her daughter.
 
"Please don't kill me," said Valor. "None of you were ever in any danger."

"I gathered that," said Greta, "when I recognized the young man in charge, under that ridiculous domino. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you."

"Who," said Holden, his voice having improved from a rasp to a croak, but no one answered him, at least not in words; Yves kissed him again, and Bran nuzzled closer.

"We didn't have a choice," said Valor pleadingly. "Not if Dad and Alix were going to-- hi, Alix."

"You'd better not be defending your life without me here," said Alix behind Holden, and sat down on the stairs next to Yves. "All right, go ahead."

"We knew we had to move fast," said Valor, very quickly, with her eyes on the floor.  "You can't hold a nobleman in jail for any length of time, so it had to be today or tonight.  Mom told me on the phone that Dad had brought the kid-- Gwen-- home from Dunaev's, and Alix was at the hospital, and Dad was leaving again for the hospital-- so I called Robin, but she wasn't home, so I called Denys' place, and she was there, and I told them we had to get things going right away."

She looked up, a little more color in her face, and speaking with a bit more confidence as she continued.  "See, there couldn't be any question of collaboration.  We want this court case against Lord Dunaev to have a fighting chance.  So you two couldn't be linked with any terrorist groups, in the eyes of the law or the public. We had to get her out of the country before Dunaev got out of jail and claimed her again. And you couldn't know.  You couldn't even be home, because there would have been the question of how hard you'd resisted, and it would have planted doubt in the public's mind."

"Right," said Alix, still superhumanly calm, and Valor actually smiled at her.
 
"Besides," she said, "I think Dad would have ripped the head off anybody who tried pointing a gun at Yves or Bran, and that would have been really awkward for everybody. The law and us."

Bran laughed softly at that, just a tiny puff in Holden's ear, and Holden pulled in air as if Bran had breathed it into his lungs.

"But you're never both gone at the same time, and Mom had said Alix was coming right home, as soon as Dad got to the hospital," Valor went on.  "We needed to keep you both there, somehow, for long enough to pull it off.  And Dr. Grieg-- well, Denys said he was pretty damn sure she at least sympathized with the cause. So he decided to call the hospital-- he had a legitimate excuse for calling there, if anyone asked he'd just say he was asking for some time off or something-- and ask for her help."
 
"Wasn't that an awfully big risk?" asked Alix.
 
Valor nodded.  "Robin didn't like it, but Denys said it was only a risk to himself-- he wasn't giving up any other names, or anything.  And we needed someone who could use her official position to stall you until the others had finished the job."  She hesitated and looked up at Holden.  "Dad-- did she really sedate you?"

"Yes," said Alix, when Holden didn't answer.

Valor had an expression of pure, sweet adoration on her face.  "That woman is my hero."

Holden cleared his throat and said, in a slightly more recognizable voice, "Don't start getting any ideas."

Valor flashed him a quick grin before turning back to Alix.  "She had to tell you, though.  I mean, not everything, but we knew you were too smart not to realize that it was taking too long just to run a few tests.  And that you'd insist on checking downstairs to see if the crowds were really that bad.  What did she tell you?"

"Just that she was going to stall, and that there was a good reason for it," said Alix.  "And I have to admit, when we got home and saw all the police cars, I was seriously considering heading back to the hospital and beating the shit out of her."

Bran laughed again, a sharp, startled peal, and Alix grinned, too, a little sheepishly.

"Well, I was," she said.  "And then I saw Greta--"

She swallowed hard, and Greta moved from where she was standing to crowd onto the stair below her mistress and lean against her.

"I'm really sorry, Alix," said Valor.  "But you couldn't know beforehand what we were going to do.  I know you and Dad are pretty good at acting, but with that many witnesses-- and cameras-- it needed to be real."

"I know," said Alix, pursing her lips and blinking rapidly as she clung to Greta's hand with both her own.  "So Gwen is all right?"

"She'll be okay," said Valor.  "We've got counselors set up at the other end, and-- well, the less you know about that, the better, probably."

"Right," said Holden and Alix simultaneously.  

"So you just focus on the court case," Valor concluded, "and let us take care of Gwen.  Well, not me as such.  I'm still officially a law-abiding citizen.  So are Denys and Robin, unless Grieg decides to rat out Denys." She hesitated.  "May I-- may Inga and I spend the night?"

"Are you going to stage any more kidnappings before I have my coffee tomorrow morning?" Holden asked, his voice almost back to normal now.

"Technically it was an armed robbery," said Valor. "But I mean, Robin said you're pressing charges for attempted murder of Jer, instead of destruction of property, so-- yay, precedent."

"Yay," said Holden, and Yves and Bran both laughed this time. "I-- all right, I admit I didn't have a fucking clue what I was going to do if Dunaev demanded Gwen back with the law behind him. Go to your room, young lady. I'll yell at you in the morning, when I've got my strength back."

Valor smiled, her eyes bright with relief. "Thanks, Dad."

"Besides," Holden added, moving his hand to confirm that it had mostly stopped shaking, "you can't take Inga away before she and Lee have had a joyful reunion."

"Speaking of Lee," said Yves. "Lord Taganov called about fifteen more times to see if he was home from the hospital yet. I told him you weren't hurt," he added to Lee, who had looked up at the sound of his name, "but I'm pretty sure if it weren't for Mona he would have been over at the hospital stalking you. Maybe you should call him back. Let him hear your voice."

Lee blushed, smiled, and buried his head against Holden and Bran's knees again.

"That can be arranged," said Alix, smiling too. "Come on, Lee. I'll dial the phone for you."





After Lee had come back from the phone, looking pink and pleased with himself, it was still too early for bed by any reasonable standard, but today hadn't been a day for reasonable standards. Holden sent Yves and Bran to the master bedroom to wait for him while he checked on Jer, who seemed to have fallen asleep in his bed, and tucked Lee into his bed with a tender kiss on the forehead.

"Are you okay?" he asked Lee softly, and Lee nodded seriously, watching him.

"Are you?" he asked.

Holden laughed, taken by surprise, and then sobered under Lee's grave regard, and considered the question.

"I will be," he said finally. "Thank you for asking."

Lee did smile then, and Holden kissed him again before he got up and went to his own bed, where Bran and Yves sat waiting, already naked.

When Holden approached and sat down on the edge of the bed, Bran knelt down on the floor to pull off his boots, while Yves moved for his belt buckle.  Holden sat still under their ministrations, but when they gently eased his tunic off, he started trembling like a virgin slave.

"Shhhh," Yves whispered, moving closer.  "It's okay, master.  Everything's okay."

Holden said, with a quaver in his voice that he didn't even bother to fight, "I-- I thought-- when I saw-- when they said--"

"Don't think about it," said Yves, easing Holden onto his back.  "Whatever you thought, it doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does," Holden whispered, as Bran leaned over him, brushing careful fingers over Holden's forehead and cheeks and lips and eyelids, then touching his lips softly to all the same places.  Holden couldn't stop shaking.  "It does matter."

"What is it, then?" Yves asked, caressing his chest, while Bran stroked his hair and kissed his ear.  "Tell us, master."

"When Valor hit you," said Holden, and they both looked up, alert, "when we talked, afterwards, you called me Holden."

"I-- yes, master," said Yves, surprised.

"You called me by name once, too," said Holden to Bran, and when Bran furrowed his brow, obviously skeptical, but unwilling to directly contradict his master, "You thought you were asleep, at the time.  Dreaming."

"Oh," said Bran, and smiled a little.  "I-- well, yes."

"When you think about me," said Holden, looking from one to the other, "what do you call me?  In your thoughts?  Do you think of me as master, or Holden?"

Bran and Yves were silent, watching him, considering the question.  

"Some of both," said Yves finally, and Bran nodded agreement.  "But-- mostly-- Holden."

Holden took a breath.  "What if I asked you to call me that?" 

Bran opened his mouth, then closed it.  Yves said, "You mean-- right now?"

"I mean-- regularly," said Holden.  "When we're at home."

Yves looked worried.  "That seems like a dangerous habit to get into, master."

"I was thinking," said Holden, and stopped in confusion.  He knew the shape of the thought that had come to him so often in the last few hours-- when Jer had apologized for speaking to the doctor without due deference, when Holden had pressed the nurse call button because Jer was cuffed so that he couldn't reach it, when he thought of Valor's sole authority in a house that also held her mother and Yves and Bran.  Whatever it was, it was the same thought he'd had when Bran sat at Hilda's kitchen table yesterday with a collar and leash on.
 
Wrong.  All those things were wrong.  Simply and completely wrong.  And should be fixed.
 
"Don't worry about it right now, master," said Yves softly. "You need to relax."

Holden couldn't protest, not when their hands were on him, their bodies warm and silky and furred against his, and their mouths, hot and insistent; he needed them as close as possible, and that was where they were now, and Holden forgot everything for a while except the number of sweet ways three loving bodies could interlace.

"Yves?" Holden whispered, awhile later, his chest pressed to Yves' back, arm slung over Yves' body, mouth close to his ear.  Bran slept peacefully on his stomach behind them.  Holden was trembling again, a little.

Yves yawned.  "Yes, master."

"It's just," said Holden, and paused for a very long time, still not knowing what it was he had been thinking about, or how to say it.

"'M really tired, master," Yves mumbled.  "Can it wait till morning?"

"Yes," said Holden after a moment.  "I guess it can."

"Thank you," said Yves, nestling back against him, and soon he was asleep, and then Holden must have fallen asleep too, because he was awakened by a ringing phone.

He stumbled for the stairs; Alix put her head out the door of Greta's room for a moment, and then, when she saw Holden, retreated quickly. Holden got downstairs and to the phone in the hall, and then had a bit of trouble remembering what to do about the shrill, insistent noise. Finally, he picked the phone up and said, "What?"

"Larssen?" said a man's voice at the other end.

"Yes," said Holden, without much conviction.

"Hey," said the voice.  "Remember that time you punched me in the face and knocked my teeth out and scared me so bad I actually begged my cockbite of an owner to save me from you?  Remember how your wife called me a worthless little brat while I was lying on the floor bleeding?"

"Jesse," said Holden blankly.

"Do you?" the voice insisted.

Holden licked his lips.  "Yes."

"Remember how it was all for my own good?"

"Yes," Holden repeated.

"Now we're even," said Jesse, and hung up.