He felt like he was underwater. Sounds around him were muted and strange. He couldn't feel anything holding him down but he couldn't move either. He didn't really try. Pain coursed through his body, disembodied as he was he felt it somewhere inside himself. He would be glad of the disconnect from himself if he could muster even that much strength. He was so tired. Someone peeled his eye open, flashed a light in it, then opened the other and flashed a light in it. He whimpered seeing sparks frizzle even after his eyes closed again. He felt fingertips on his neck for a minute then someone picking up his wrist and fingertips pressed against it then setting it down again and a head pressed to one side of his chest than the other.

"Well he's stable for now." It was distant and sharp with an almost echo like listening to a conversation happening in an indoor pool two rooms over.

"Good good! I was worried for a while! I do want to get back to our games soon!"

"A little bag nutrition and saline isn't going to keep him stable long. You either have to shell out the big money to have Jenkins fix him the right way or you have to plan on the next game being his last. I can only patch him enough to buy you a few days and that's if you're not messing with him." He blinked sluggishly, his vision a bit blurred like he were watching them from beneath a glass full of water. They stood over him, towering so much taller as he lay prone on a very low cot. He floated away into irrelevancy. Logan's phone beeped with an alert. "Well I'll be damned. That's a twisted pickle."

"What?"

"I keep tabs on all the subjects involved in our ventures and I just got a news scoop from one of those ice skater celebrity ones."

"Oh?"

"According to this Victor Nikiforov was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance an hour ago but there's no reports on the nature of his emergency or his current condition."

"Are you serious? How reliable is that report?"

"Eh, fifty-fifty, I mean with this source it could be true that he's been rush to the hospital in an ambulance but it might be that he's riding with a family member who's having the medical emergency." His phone pinged three more times successively.

"What about those?"

"Ope, those are the reliable guys, according two these two, ignore the third, the cause of his hospitilization has still not been reported but his condition is stable."

"Oh it just get more interesting by the hour!" Andre clasped his hands and grinned malicious.

"So this bears the question, are we waiting for the scoops or are you dishing out money for one of my guys to get the scoop on Nikiforov's condition?"

"Oh send you're guy! Send him immediately! This could be so exciting to play out! And get him patched as best you can while I consider Jenkins. The game will be much more fun if he's alert to see it." Andre sneered his mind whirling with hellish thoughts. Yuri faded into irrelvancy remembering nothing.

Yakov stood feeling strangely heavy outside Victor's room as the doctor prepared to speak with him. He wasn't allowed in the room yet, not until he saw the doctor. He'd been told he could wait here for him and it would just be a minute. Now it was fifteen. He felt like there was some subtle punishment being enacted and he wondered what they felt they were disciplining. Finally the doctor emerged from the room.

"Well? How is he?"

"I do not know what is going on in his life right now, but as his friend or father or whatever roll you play to him, you must to better than to allow him to get into this condition but do nothing. He was dehydrated to life risking levels,malnourished, and suffered sleep deprivation which caused his instability and confusion. The stress hormones are off the charts, continuing like this could very likely lead to heart attack or other deadly conditions. He's burst blood vessels in both eyes. Normally this is unconcerning but so many are ruptured he may suffer blurred vision and will need his eyes rechecked for further damage. He's also had a small tear in the lining of his stomach. You will need him to sign these before he leaves agreeing he will be in someone's care the first few days." The man handed him a stack of papers.

"You are releasing him?"

"He needs bed rest and food, not a hospital. We are restoring his vitals to normal and then will release him. It should only be a few hours more. He will need to avoid all beverages but water for the next three weeks, soft foods for the next week and please keep his level of activity low. I am also sending him with a prescription of sedatives. They are moderate and should keep him relatively calm. He will have enough for three weeks."

"I can see him now?"

"Yes fine but for gods sake if he's asleep let him sleep." The doctor stormed off clearly in a bad attitude. Yakov just shook his head and let himself into the room, setting aside the papers on the desk. Victor was indeed asleep. His breaths were deep and slow but with a suprisingly sharp exhale. He looked very small and fragile, still shivering a bit. He sighed and fished another blanket from the closet and spread it over his young pupil. Perhaps not so young, and yet one of his youngest at the same time. He had always retained that childlike quality with wonder and dreams in his eyes and an innocent naivety that everything would always work out for the best. It had been an incredible quality for the ice. He endeared to all his audience and put his soul into every skate. You felt every emotion he felt, but Yakov had feared it was cause him terrible hurt personally if he didn't grow out of it. He never did. Would this be that time? When the childlike trust failed and was broken?

"Yakov?" His voice was hoase and faint as a whisper.

"Victor, you are awake. How do you feel?" His color was slowly coming back but he still seemed pale.

"Fuzzy. Where's Yuri? Is he coming?" Still confused then. Victor rubbed at his nose where the doctors had shoved a feeding tube down it.

"Leave that alone." Yakov pulled his hand away.

"Itches."

"Leave it."

"Can I see Yuri soon? Miss him." Victor drifted asleep again.

"FUCKING HELL!' Yurio kicked the chair sending it shattering against the wall in a dozen pieces.

"Hey take it easy kid. Calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm down! You're useless!"

"Now wait a minute!"

"No! Don't you talk! A week you get nothing done! A week they suffer! Now you trace video feed and it's to empty warehouse?!"

"Listen you loud mouthed little-" He gripped Yurio by the shirt but their brawl was interrupted by the front door opening. Yakov and Victor had returned. The cop sneered and released Yurio with a small shove and went back to his work while Yurio went to check on his coach and Victor.

"Well, is he fine?" Yurio crossed his arms across his chest. His mood for the day was firmly set to bad. The change in Victor was dramatic. Where he'd been wound tight with a frenetic constantly vibratic nervous energy now he was slack and glassy eyed and his gaze seemed to be seeing far into the distance and nothing near him.

"He is fine. Let's get you to couch Victor."

"M'kay. Is Yuri here? Did they find my Yuri?" He blinked owlishly, head lolling as Yakov guided his wobbling steps towards the living room couch. Yakov settled him with a mountain of pillows around him and a pile of blankets over him. "Let's get you something to eat, you rest." Yurio reconised sedative calm when he saw it. They couldn't keep this up. If they didn't find Yuri soon Victor was just going to waste away or his sanity, what little he'd ever had in Yurio's opnion, would crack entirely. He can hear Yakov conferring with everyone in the kitchen. Updating them on Victor's condition and getting updated on the situation. Yurio doesn't join them. Instead he opts to clean up the mess from the ruined chair and made a mental note to leave money to replace it. His Grandfather had taught him that much at least. If you're uncivilized enough to destroy something of someone else's, you at least show the decency to pay for its replacement and sincerely apologize. He kept an eye on Victor but he just lay where he'd been put staring glazed at the Maccachin tissue box on the coffee table.

The mood in the home was completely changed. There was no more tension, no crackle of electricity in the air. Everything had gone flat and weak. The laptop and all the machines and wires hooked to it for tracing the video were gone. The one cop was here but the other had gone to work in the field he'd said. They'd lost all energy. That was when it struck Yurio like hitting the rink wall at full force not even trying to stop. They'd lost hope. They hadn't been able to see Yuri since he'd been dragged off the ice, mostly dead it had seemed, and half an hour later the feed had been cut. There was no word anywhere. Every lead they had on these guys led to a dead end. We're just waiting for someone to say they found his body. The thought made him sick but he couldn't push it away. He wondered what would happen to Victor if they did find him dead, or worse...if they never found him. Ever since he'd become a couple with Yuri, Victor had been unbearably corny and sappy and Yurio found the man annoying, but now he felt the urge to sit with him on the couch and hope it provided the man some comfort.

Yuri felt this vague sense that a lot of time had passed. He was lying on his back still and the skin hurt from not having moved or turned in so very long. If he had the strength to get up and look there would be sores pockmarking the skin along the whole backside of his body. He felt different, to say it was stronger would be inaccurate, less dead perhaps was more fitting? Or less weak to minimize dramatic effect. Someone pressed their palm to his forehead then slid their fingers through his hair.

"Victor?" Even though he knew the hand was wrong, the touch was wrong he couldn't stop the name from his lips in a desperate hopeful want.

"Shh Shh, he's not here my boy. Your dear Victor did not come for you." He peeled his eyes open to see a blurred Andre grinning like an eel above him as he stroked his hair a little too tenderly.

"He...will." Andre chuckled.

"If he hasn't by now-perhaps while we wait." Yuri jumped, skin crawling feeling Andre's hand upon the skin of his lower abdomen, fingers teasing the hem of his pants. He tried to raise a hand to push the man away and couldn't. He blinked confused and found his wrists tied with coarse raw rope. When had they done that? Had they always been tied?

"Stop it, please stop it." He couldn't stop his voice from quavering. Andre pushed beyond the waistline where boxers should have been but weren't and began exploring the dips and curves of his hips while he exposed and then orally explored Yuri's chest and stomach simultaneously. His tongue felt like a fat cold slug swirling around his nipple. How could a tongue be so cold? That wasn't natural. He shivered from chill but greater disgust. Andre spared no part of his skin from the slimy touch of his tongue. Yuri tried to pull away but fire ripped through his body, especially the left arm and his ribs and legs and he was instantly subdued by the pain, restraints not required. That was when he realized his ankle too were tied. Not together, but individually to the cot legs with enough slack to lay mostly comfortably but not so much he could kick out or clamp his knees together.

"Mmm I can still taste the ice on your skin." he groaned licking and sucking Yuri's flesh then moving to his mouth to ravage it ferociously beginning to stroke him with careless strokes. He flushed with embarrassment, tears streaking down his face, as his body responded properly to the stimulus. He couldn't stop it, couldn't make his body reject the touch or the feeling of physical enjoyment. Then Andre's excitement grew and he got rough to the point of brutal and all pleasure was gone and Yuri was desperate to escape the pain. Andre laughed even as he mauled his mouth refusing to let him escape even for a second. Then Yuri snapped and made the only defense he had biting down on the man's lip with all his might and shaking his head like a rabid dog refusing to let go as Andre screamed. A fist to his sternum had him too busy wheezing for oxygen to hold his grip on his captor any longer.

"You little bastard!" Andre snarled and ripped his sweat pants down from his hips to his ankles and jumped onto the cot using his legs to force Yuri's legs apart until both their legs hung off the cot almost spread eagle. Yuri nearly screamed his purple right leg bursting with explosions of pain as something deep inside him was grinding against itself. "I was going to be decent and gentle even if you didn't want it it could have felt good to you! But not now! Now I'm going to tear you inside and out and make you scream until your vocal chords snap!"

"No no no, please don't do this...pleeease..." Yuri sobbed, voice cracking, his broken body already pushed to his limit of pain. Andre laughed at him guiding his cock against Yuri's asshole and was pressing himself inside when suddenly he stopped, neither entering nor withdrawing leaving him uncomfortably half stretched. He rolled his hips away suddenly pulling his member away from Yuri but leaned in so close his lips brushed his ear.

"No, not like this. I think this show needs an audience. I think Victor should be here to watch as I take you again, and again, and claim every part of your body, your lips, nipples, cock, thighs, ass, mouth, everything as my possession. He'll watch me take every piece of you from him for myself." Andre climbed off of him, throwing his legs back onto the cot and yanking his pants back into place.

"Noooo."

"Oh don't you fret little Yuri. You won't have to be my toy much longer. It is certain though, as long as I keep you alive, condition doesn't matter, Victor will never tell me no."