AN: I'll be doing some traveling for the weekend and into the week, so seeing as how I promised Sunday for a new chapter, here it is early.

Difficult Circumstances

"You're the only link to a life that I had. It kept me going under very difficult circumstances."

-Danny Rand

SATURDAY, EVENING-FOUR WEEKS, FOUR AND A HALF DAYS SINCE TUESDAY

"Think."

In a lot of pain, he forced himself to put his hands beneath and push off the ground. He grabbed hold of the side of the bed and dragged his body on top of it. His dad had been beating him with his belt again, accusing of not listening to his rant on the poison of present society and how much it required men like Harold Meachum.

He'd started giving his speech shortly after shoving his cock into Ward's mouth and complaining about how he never tried to please him anymore. Delusional Harold somehow seemed to miss out on the fact that he was a prisoner in his own home. And if he told his father he hated him, he received a punch to his gut followed by speech concerning his lack of motivation and appreciation for the company he'd been given to run in his stead.

Over a month this daily abuse had been going on, and he was beginning to feel his sanity slipping. He refused to entertain the idea of helping Kuo and Heart, refused to let the thought fully develop in his mind. If he did that, he risked considering the positives of saying yes. They would kill Harold for him. He would never be raped by his own dad ever again. Oh, he was considering.

He shook the tempting thoughts from his mind and made himself look at Harold, who was staring expectantly. Ignoring the burning coming from his back, he sat up and met the stare boldly. Ignoring what he knew was desired from him, he said what he wanted instead.

"I think you're out of your mind."

The anger was quick and the blow hard. He clutched his side, curling in on himself at the tremendous pain. When his father climbed on top of him, his desperation to avoid what he knew was coming superseded it rapidly.

Although it was pointless, he tried begging. "Please, don't. I get it. Dad, please."

"You say you get it, you say you'll take care of things, but you're merely placating me with words."

A frantic sob slipped past his lips as his dad momentarily struggled with him and then overpowered, putting him on his back and undoing his pants. Only when a hand enclosed his balls tight did he cease resisting. He really, really didn't need those squeezed to the point of extreme pain tonight. The rape he wouldn't be able to stop, but he could at least minimize how much physical agony he would be in later.

"Do you remember when you were 27? I made certain we had a personal night to ourselves at least once a month."

Oh God did he remember that. The sexual abuse tended to be a rarer form of punishment, and then suddenly it was like one day Harold woke up and decided this was a gift he was bestowing on his son. An entire year he'd shown up to the penthouse in absolute dread, wondering if it would be the night be was forced to stay. Even though he knew the horror that might be coming, he would keep going to protect his sister. Somehow that was what his father had convinced him he needed to do.

"Because I love you so much, Ward."

He despised hearing it. He always did.

"I want this to be like it was then. You understand?"

What was his dad talking about? He stared at the man in confusion when he removed his hands from him and got off the bed. Was he leaving him alone? Such a silly hope but he thought it anyway.

"No? Of course not."

His father was shaking his head in familiar disappointment at his muteness. But about this? Madness.

"Take off your clothes," he told him as though helping him along. "And mean it."

Comprehension clicked into place. Of every single depraved or agonizing thing his dad ever did to him, this right there was the very worst of the worst. Forcing him to participate in the rape, forcing him to pretend it was consensual and he liked it. The single scorch mark on his soul he could never seem to erase from his mind if he ever wanted to. Those memories refused to budge, resiliently remaining crystal clear images in memory. Everything else he felt he'd done remarkably well at putting behind him in order to live his own life. Not this.

"I won't do it," he uttered, volume barely reaching louder than a whisper.

Harold smiled, the smile failing to reach his eyes. "You have two choices."

His eyes closed. Why didn't he tell Danny when he had the chance? Why did he ever fool himself into thinking he would be able to find some other means to save himself? What exactly did he think he was proving by not involving the guy? Joy wasn't around to protect anymore. Danny was. Danny, who was the only one he knew who at least didn't hate him or think he was some selfish rich kid that got whatever he wanted. Or at least he had, until the visit to the office where he essentially accused Ward of being just that.

Kuo's promise echoed in his head. Alone. He was alone. But he was offering companionship, partners to usher in the next world. It would be easier if he really was what people thought he was. He wished he didn't care about this world and the people living in it. Apathy. He should try harder at that philosophy. Of course, his father would approve, which instantly caused the idea to be less appealing.

"Do as I say, and after I will leave you alone the rest of the night," he offered. "And, I will leave you alone tomorrow too."

"I could ignore you," he pointed out. "I could tell Kuo I cooperate and you need to go."

"We've talked about the plan, Ward. Don't let emotional thinking cloud your judgment."

He glared straight into his eyes. "Everybody's so damn sure of what my future should be."

"Your other choice," Harold went on like they had never sidetracked. "Is that I'll go ahead and keep on taking what I want from you, all night. And then I'm going to have a chat with your friend from the office, Patterson was it? See about getting some of the drug he gives you when you're punished by these people. Start using that on you myself. Should do wonders to humble you then, hm?"

His wounded nature was showing on his face, he was certain of it. But he didn't have it in him to hide. Harold looked pleased when he saw how he was affected.

"I hear it's agonizing."

He started removing his clothes, preventing himself from disassociating as his mind struggled to. The look of eagerness appearing on his father's face nearly made the severance occur anyway, desperate to escape this sordid reality.

Eyes met the carpet while his dad was undressing himself, unwilling to see it and wanting there to have been at least one other sexual experience to put in place of this horror show. He was too damaged. His father controlled every aspect of his life, took the possibility of there ever being someone else when he became his first sexual experience. Scarred him to the point it was impossible to be with another person sexually because it was filled with the memories of sounds, scents, and touches that were base, abhorrent, wrong.

There were tears gathering in his eyes. After his father was finally gone, he'd understood he might be asexual from his nightmarish history for the rest of his life. He was okay with that, as his father was still dead and buried. But then he hadn't been. And history repeated harsher than the last time.

His fingers reached up to wipe the tears away. He couldn't let his father see.

"Wait."

Fingers stilled centimeters from his upper face. Caught crying. Crying was for children. It was weakness. What would his dad do?

"Put your hand down."

Obediently, he put his hand back to his side, standing there next to his bed like he wasn't naked. Ward made himself put his head up to look at Harold, knowing he would get angry if he thought he was being ignored in the slightest.

It was a struggle but he managed to keep from outwardly revealing the revulsion and hatred he felt as his father approached. He let his dad cup his face gently, wipe away the tears. He could almost lie to himself and believe it was a familial and appropriate gesture.

Harold wrapped his arms around him and initiated a kiss. It took everything to keep from sobbing his dismay at the mockery of romance on display. He wondered if he could try and put any other face in place of his father.

The hold tightened and he realized his lack of reciprocation was being warned. He opened his mouth and could actually feel Harold's lips quirk upward in a smile against his face before he delved into the opening. Forcing himself to return the kiss, his thoughts wandered toward other possible faces.

He was typically surrounded by people he didn't like or didn't know much about, and if he had any hope of even sort of putting someone else in place of his own dad, he had to be able to connect. A blur of board members swept in and then out almost as quickly. They were reminders of his father's old life and nature so it didn't help.

Hands squeezed his ass and geez if he didn't nearly pull away and try to hit the guy right there. He would pay dearly if he changed his decision now that this was already happening. Ward swallowed the bile rising in his throat, put his own hands on Harold's hips and deepened the kiss.

Faces. Kuo arose in his mind and that was not anywhere near a good replacement. Marcus, his driver Trevor, and Owen last, came and went from his surface images. Bad men. People who kept him prisoner. Not happy thoughts. See, this never worked. He could never find and lock in someone who didn't want to do him harm or keep him from living his own life. His recent visitors at work came into his head then.

Colleen was a very pretty woman but masculine hands feeling across his nude form and the very unladylike sex organ pressing against his hip caused her to vanish. Danny's face was staring back at him, distrusting and worried. Concern for his well being? He could pretend it was even if it wasn't. But Danny?

The kiss broke off. Harold's hands slipped between his thighs and felt along sore flesh from previous encounters. His eyes opened at the shock of a finger suddenly entering him and he was staring into his father's pleasure-filled face. The number of times he'd been penetrated in recent weeks, the preparation was unnecessary, but his dad liked sticking digits into him. Bastard... He fought to drag the image of Danny's profile up.

He tried to remember him when he was sympathetic, standing beside him watching his father's body be cremated. When the body was supposed to have been destroyed. It was the closest he'd felt to the other man. The most honest he ever was with another person too.

Growing a little impatient, Harold added a second finger and then shuffled them onto the bed. Ward adjusted to the weight of him and he rested his hands on his back. It wasn't his dad. It was Danny. Danny, Danny, Danny.

Teeth bit at his neck, his shoulder. The other hand groped his flesh, and then the mouth returned to press down on his own. He accepted and tried to convince himself it was the sole action going on, to block the feel of the intrusion below.

A knee prodded to slip between his thighs and he spread his legs to allow access. His eyes closed briefly, while Harold went to retrieve the lubrication. Danny would be kind, he imagined. The sort of person who would ask permission and never let you forget how much you meant to him. He was stubborn and tough, which could account for the habit of biting and slightly rough handling.

His eyes opened when he heard the footsteps returning, avoiding potential retaliation if they remained shut.

No words were spoken between his father climbing back onto him and pushing in. After repeated insertion daily for weeks straight, his body gave easily. He kept his body slack, scrunched up his face when pleasurable stimulation spread throughout him. Danny had a thinner frame, but it wasn't so hard to pretend the neck down could belong to him tonight. Especially since Harold preferred close contact, and a lot of it.

Ward was pushed deeper into the mattress as his father pressed flat against him, chest to chest, groin to groin. His body was far from unresponsive with the dick brushing his prostate, the sensation of fullness, and then Harold was moving. He pushed aside the immediate heated shame he felt as his own dick grew erect. Repetitive shallow thrusts to keep himself encased in the younger body beneath him was performed. He was nipping at his ear and once again a visual of Danny replaced him to prevent any crying or blanking out.

He rendered the feeling of facial hair rubbing across the side of his face, his neck. Conceptualized how it would look to have Danny closing a firm hand around the length of his cock, seeking to bring him to completion. Danny would go slow too, desiring such a display of love to be comfortable, enjoyable, and lasting.

A hand combed through his hair, his name emerging from the lips of his lover into the side of his neck. The pace of thrusts quickened and deepened, moans releasing out of his own mouth. He was complimented and the speaker became Danny's praising and pleasing voice instead of the low, fixed intervals of his father's voice.

The attentive touches and funnel the hand created caused him to climax. He gasped at the pleasure, head lifting off the covers before falling back down. His legs wrapped about Harold's lower half, knowing it might urge him to go faster and still think the hole he was fucking was a willing one.

Lips on his. Facial hair, a kind smile like he couldn't be happier to have sex with someone he loved. He cried out when particularly strong thrusts rocked against him and his hands went to shoulders, searching for a grip. Danny, Danny, Danny. It was so difficult to keep the image in place.

When his father finally climaxed inside him, he nearly wept in joy for it to be finished. The heavy body fell completely on top of him and his own hands let go of Harold, tightening in the sheets. He wouldn't cry. It would only make him angry. He might take back the deal. He'd muddled through it.

The pain from the earlier lashing returned without the distraction of further assault. At least there wasn't bleeding this time. No blood on the sheets or the blue t-shirt laying crumpled on the floor. Just welts. Lucky him.

Harold pulled out of him and got up from the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up and while he was gone, Ward did his best to clean his own body by using the already soiled sheets as a towel. He dumped them on the floor after he was done, then put his clothes back on. Searching to hide the evidence of what happened.

His dad returned to the bedroom a minute later and crinkled his nose at the overpowering scent of cologne everywhere. He refused to smell like his father or sex longer than he had to. After a moment, Harold put the issue to the back of his head and contemplated Ward thoughtfully.

"Now think, Ward."

He swallowed hard. Ah, right back to the manipulations. He knew the answer to protect himself from further consequences. Searching within to find a sliver of something that wasn't dark, he latched on to the tiny thing like his life depended on it. Because his life depended on it.

"Yes," he responded, keeping his tone flat but certain. "You're right, Dad. I'm sorry."

Harold smiled, delighted. "Good, son. That's good."

Ward considered that somehow his father might outlive them all, cockroach that he was...

The front door slammed. He knew he visibly startled even if his mind was uncertain because his dad was looking at him in amusement.

"Here. Now!" a voice boomed. He thought it possibly belonged to Alex.

He followed his father to the living room where several people awaited. One of them was indeed Alex, outfitted in his ninja attire. Kuo was pacing in front of the door, and the entirety of his day guard was scattered about the room. Owen had been in the house earlier for his training, but it didn't appear he'd come back for this visit.

When they walked in, Kuo ceased pacing and glanced in their direction.

"Harold, leave the house for a while. Enjoy your freedom somewhere in the city that isn't here."

Uncertainly, he looked to his dad, who scrutinized the man under heavy suspicion. "Everything okay?"

"Alex will accompany you."

Patterson came into the room from the kitchen, chewing on half a sandwich. His eyes lifted to him and he smiled between his subsequent bites. He took a seat in an armchair, relaxing casually.

Ward shifted in place and lied. "It's work stuff, Dad. I'll take care of it."

Their eyes locked. He knew Harold was trying to interpret if he would be stupid enough to betray him again when all that ever did was leave him with future repercussions. A definite message concerning the plotting he fully expected his son to obey passed between them in the same stare.

His father broke the silent exchange and smiled insincerely toward Kuo. "Great idea. I could use the air."

He went out the front door with Alex and Kuo locked it behind them. As the deadbolt slid into place, Marcus encouraged him to sit. It couldn't be good news if Marcus Patterson was in his home. He'd never been there aside from the day he was introduced to his guard. People who he'd learned weren't so bad. Marcus was mostly a sadist, but the other two were mostly misguided in their ideals. If they made some different choices in life, they'd probably be good people. It was terrifying how easy it could be to slip, become like any one of them had become.

The woman was the one of the three he'd interacted with the least. Primarily because while she was an agent of Heart on the inside at Rand Enterprises, her role was limited until Ward chose to cooperate. She was a lawyer. A suave, beautiful woman with olive skin and a tightly groomed appearance. Mikka Marks had a great rack too, not that he was dehumanizing her or anything. It was hard to miss with the tight, partially revealing dresses she constantly wore.

She snapped her fingers, strolling over to join him on the couch. "Hey, mind your eyeline."

Mortified to be caught leering, he slouched into the cushions, feigning interest in his fingers.

"Nah," his driver said, sitting on the couch diagonal to the one occupied by the two of them. "Don't listen to her. M likes it."

His driver prevented him from running on two separate occasions in the initial weeks of the cage put up around his life. Trevor Milstone by all appearances was a charming and disarming kind of guy. He could switch his demeanor like a mask sliding into place, showing his darkest and most violent nature. His ridiculous karate skills kept Ward from trying a third occasion to flee. Only a single time did he manage to temporarily slip past the man's keen watch. Much later.

She huffed but didn't respond to his claim. Reclining her face into the hand of the arm resting on her leg, she openly speculated concerning him.

"He still seems too young to handle this properly."

Marcus chuckled. "He's a wayward risk, but given time and the correct amount of motivation, we'll have exactly what we need."

Humming to herself in thought, he watched her neatly manicured figures tap against a smooth cheek. "I suppose he's the heir. He'll have to do."

Kuo held a tablet in his hands as he came to sit down next to Trevor. He didn't look happy. His serious gaze focused on him alone.

"Tonight you say yes."

His hand went up in the air to stop him when he started to reply with the typical disagreement.

"There will be time to build our relationship into a veritable one of faith and trust. Now, now I require you to heed my command."

Ward was exceptionally fascinated in how they thought they were going to convince him to do what they wanted. They controlled his life and tortured him every day for more than a month and he could still look at them like they were nuts. Harold was both used as a weapon to scare him and as an attempt to curry favor at the same time, with vows to get rid of him once he accepted their alliance. Joy was his weak spot during the very brief span of an alliance a year and a half ago. But she wasn't here to be used against him nowadays.

The man seemed to read into his silence and altered his topic a little.

"Danny Rand and his friends attacked one of my shipments a few days ago. Were you aware of this?"

He honestly wasn't. "I don't have any idea what you people are up to. No, I didn't know."

"You're certain of this?"

Why was Kuo doubting him? What could he possibly know when they watched his every-? Oh... Oh, he would be blamed for a thing that hadn't even done him a lick of good. The unfairness was staggering. Hits just kept coming on him. Karmic retribution for past misdeeds? Danny would probably think so.

Marcus confirmed his rising agitation was fitting.

"We've decided absolute truth is necessary from you. Tell it willfully, and I won't have to use the drug I described. You remember me telling you about the interrogation drug, Versed, yes?"

He shrugged, stifling his instinct to flee, and met Kuo's intense stare. "What truth?"

"What did you say to Danny Rand when he came to the office to see you? Where did you go when you slipped past Trevor a few days before that?"

Obstinate, he lied. He had no trouble lying to bad people. "I already explained that to Marcus."

Kuo got up and closed the short distance between them, crouching in front of where he was sitting. He took one of his arms in both hands and Ward let him. One hand beneath the arm, fingers of the other hand located his pulse and he knew he was screwed. Desperation led him to try a lie anyway. Some of it was true so maybe he could manage to pass it as complete truth.

"Repeat what you told him to me," he ordered, meeting his eyes and holding them there.

"I wanted to get away for a while. Someplace I wasn't being constantly monitored. As for Danny, he just showed up. I didn't know he was coming and we didn't talk about anything useful."

There. Lie of omission, but otherwise he was being entirely truthful. It seemed to be working too. Kuo nodded his head once, though his expression was unreadable.

"Your research on Frank Castle..was enlightening..regarding your trip out of our sight."

His breath hitched. Of course they also monitored his computer usage. He'd erased the history but there must be methods of recovery he wasn't computer literate enough to know.

"Let me tell you what I think." Kuo went on. "I think you proved yourself rather resourceful and found Castle. What ever did you want to discuss with him?"

The reply spat out, cocky and irritated, before he knew what he was saying. "I didn't manage to find him after all. With my luck I probably just missed him."

Ward should have known better with fingers on his pulse, but his heart was pounding in his ears, screaming in his head to get away and not be found out. They would discipline him no matter what he said. No way out. Despairing. Hardly room for logic or collected thinking in there. His pulse must have been racing.

The hand solidified hold of his wrist and pulled. A sudden, sharp pain radiated from it and he barked out his distress.

"What the hell!"

He tried to get his arm away but the grip only tightened. The injury exacerbated, the pain intensified.

"Ward, stop lying." Marcus supplied helpfully.

Yeah, right... "I'm not."

Kuo released his arm and he cradled it to himself. He turned to view the woman sitting next to him.

"M, looks like we'll have to wait to attend to business until tomorrow. Take the night off."

Brusquely, she stood and glowered downward at Ward, speaking to Kuo as she did. "Told you, he's too young."

"That's why he's perfect." Kuo told her, standing upright. "Plenty of room to expand his horizons."

"Call me when there's actually something I can do," she sniped on her walk across the room. "I canceled a dinner date for this."

Her cell phone was out, fingers rapidly pressing buttons. "Give me a ride home, Trevor."

Despite her curt behavior, Kuo merely smiled. He watched her go with his driver, mourning their ability to escape while he was trapped. He was in trouble. Would they use the drug and he wouldn't even remember what he told them? That direness was worth avoiding.

They'd barely cleared the door when the attack came. His vigilance that it would probably happen didn't do a thing to prevent its success. Kuo hit him in the solar plexus and while he was crumpling, he was flipped to his back and straddled by the older man on the couch. A grunt and a whining sound were all that emerged before the hand squeezed his throat closed.

"One final opportunity for honesty. Or Marcus will get to use his precious drug."

Once again he'd failed to use his training. Owen would be disappointed if he could actually be bothered to care for some guy his master was currently obsessed with using. He blamed the loss of an arm for it, when he knew it was because he couldn't concentrate well enough to recall the hours and hours of training.

"Precious is a bit strong," the other man replied with a half-suppressed giggle.

Ward tried to ease the grip on his neck using the arm that didn't cause him pain to move, fingers prying at it. By the manner in which the pressure was increasing and decreasing regularly, Kuo just wanted to make a show of his control. He took the hand from his neck and placed it on his forehead, like someone might check a fever.

"When you found him...?"

He gathered air with a few deep breaths, then stared up to meet his interrogator's eyes.

"I went looking for someone to kill Harold."

The seriousness morphed into a contented smile. Out of his line of sight, behind Kuo, Marcus sniggered. Yeah, yeah, the guy was likely thrilled he'd been proven accurate about searching for those different avenues. Meanwhile, he was lying here wearing a body that felt more like an expansive bruise.

"What did he say?"

"He didn't say yes," confessed Ward. "Danny found out what I did. Came to yell at me. Thinks I'm already doing the kinds of things you want me to do."

The warm hand on his forehead combed through his hair tenderly. "Danny Rand would hold you back from achieving your true potential. He would seek to keep the old, tainted world in place because it's what he's known. But this is naivety. Those who share his mindset will perish."

"Please," he tried. "Get off me."

Kuo shushed him and let both of his hands settle on top of his shirt collar, resting near the throat.

"Marcus."

He heard the other man getting up and saw him as he walked to the other couch. For a moment he feared they were going to use the drug on him anyway, but he was only retrieving his leader's tablet. He switched it on and held it outward to face him, coming near.

There was video surveillance on the screen. It was a street corner somewhere in the city. He couldn't decipher where and since it was night, if there was something specific he was meant to be seeing, he was missing it.

"Say yes. Officially mark our alliance with the information on that piece of paper I gave earlier. Tomorrow you will meet with Marcus and M, work out the details of what needs to happen."

The piece of paper containing bank account numbers and monetary amounts. He remembered. He'd kept it in his bedside drawer, assuming if he tried to dispose of it there would be more pain to contend with as punishment.

Screaming began on the camera footage, panic breaking out and people scattering in every direction. His eyes rapidly roved across the screen, trying to understand what was going on. A man was lying on the sidewalk, unmoving. Was that blood pooling around his head..? He didn't hear a gunshot. Was he stabbed?

"Frank Salm, happily married father of four, history professor at NYU. Now he's gone."

Ward struggled to sit up, confusion and concern battling to take the top spot within him. Kuo didn't budge and he wasn't able to get his torso raised more than an inch off the couch. He let himself fall flat and switched his perplexed uncertainty between the tablet and the man holding him still.

"What was that? What did you do?"

"Say yes."

"I..I don't understand," he finally said.

Kuo studied him a moment before he answered. "My people out there are going to kill an innocent bystander until I have you on my side. We've selected a dozen targets tonight, and will select twelve new targets the next day, and the next..."

Marcus swiped a finger across the screen and attracted toward the motion, his eyes followed the movement. A new location was showing on the tablet now. Somebody else was going to die. Oh God...

"Why would you do that?" he exploded at them. "Murdering strangers on the street is supposed to make me help you? That's idiocy! That's..insane!"

"Switch to the feed with the pregnant woman. Signal her execution and then let's go with the little boy next."

"No!" Ward protested, angry and bewildered. "Stop! Why? Don't do that!"

"Say yes. How many are you willing to let die so you can live your life in ignorance of the coming transformation?"

A view of a young girl wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans appeared in a circular framing. She was visibly pregnant, sitting on a bench at a bus stop. One hand rested atop her round belly and she held a cell phone in the other hand, talking to somebody on it. A gunshot echoed loudly in the feed, camera attached to the scope itself was a high probability. A second shot followed the first.

His panicked eyes sought some reassurance that it hadn't happened. But her head had fallen back, exposing the hole in her forehead, and there was a large red stain growing on the front of her sweatshirt. She was dead. Yet to be discovered, although it wouldn't be long judging by the increasing yells of panic from the loud shots.

"Terry Janis, nineteen, addicted to meth. Now she and her baby are gone too. Probably better for it. She was broke, the baby underdeveloped, and still using those drugs."

He was breathing hard, straining to grasp the murders he was witnessing. The feed switched to a different one. A boy, maybe five years old, was holding the hand of a man and woman, presumably his parents. They were in a park, laughing happily. Unnoticed, a man in a heavy long coat and ball cap was trailing behind them. What appeared to be a blade slipped from his coat sleeve into his hand. His pace quickened forward.

Ward didn't break. He shattered.

"Yes! Yes! Stop! Please! Please, yes! Yes!"

His eyes tracked Marcus's deft fingers shifting the tablet to himself and tapping rapidly across the surface. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until the tablet went dark and the man informed him the hitters were called off. A whoosh of air and he slumped motionless beneath Kuo, feeling exhausted and drained.

Kuo established eye contact, putting hands on either side of his face.

"Monday you will go see Danny Rand. Persuade him there is nothing to be pursued concerning you. Say you have been depressed by your sister's absence. Say whatever you must to change his mind. Trevor will remain outside until you are finished."

"A test?"

His father gave him enough of those to reckon this was the case.

"Loyalty. Naturally," he responded, looking at him with affection of all things. "Partnership earned will be glorious. Now... reflect."

He stared up at him, despairing because he was accepting. Ward knew what was coming, what he was meant to say in return.

"Your life. What's wrong?"

After he was finally given permission to sleep weeks ago, the following day a ritual commenced. Every morning and every evening before dinner he received a call. The first occasion he was informed of how the exchange would go on from that day forth. And here now, he was beginning that rote memorization forced upon him as a condition of his prison.

"I'm not in control," he said, tone hushed, reluctant. "I am alone."

The man above observed his subdued prey, evident his taught phrases were truth by how he could hold him there, compliant. Ward fought the shame, suppressing every emotion fighting to bubble to the surface. Self-awareness especially in such a vulnerable and exposed position let him know he was not wholly succeeding.

"And?"

He choked on the initial words and had to restart. "I wil-I will be in control. I will never be alone."

"How?"

Doing his best to wipe the grief and fear from his expression, he answered, "With you."

His keeper smiled warmly at the amenable being under him. He genuinely seemed to be harboring goodwill toward Ward and it felt both comforting and terrifying. Reduced to a compliant, spineless slave. But this man would at least love him for his allegiance.

Kuo climbed off him and sat normally on the couch, waiting, speaking one final piece of sage wisdom to keep the calm that had descended. "A new perspective awaits."

As he was embraced, his arms automatically went up to return the gesture. The hug was manipulation, the action had to be. But it felt nice to distort this world just a little, so he could pretend it was real and benevolent. How nice it would be to not have to worry about what was going to happen next, if only for a short while. He was very tired.

What would become of him? When he made it past a month's time, Ward held onto a hope he could endure after all. He would no longer make a mistake like that. He doesn't hope anymore.