Cuddy settled back against the pillows and smiled at Foreman as he returned to bed.
"Problem?"
He frowned and settled down beside her again. "Jimmy was late going to bed, said he was cleaning the kitchen cabinets and wanted to get it finished."
"The nerve of him," Cuddy said, amused at Foreman's serious demeanour. "I hope you whipped him for it."
"I've never had to whip Jimmy," Foreman pointed out, and she could hear the unspoken corollary, 'not like you've had to whip Greg'. "He's usually very well behaved."
She sighed to herself. Much as she loved Eric he was still a typical man, he seemed to think that because Jimmy was his possession his behaviour was some sort of reflection on him. She'd seen this before, men parading their slaves around like status symbols. The better the slave looked and behaved the better the man believed they looked. To her Greg was a tool, useful, but not a reflection of her own worth - her slave being scruffy, lame and sullen didn't make her less competent.
"Jimmy is well behaved, Eric, and he's a hard worker. I'm sure those cabinets are spotless." She was also sure that Eric would be giving them a close inspection in the morning, and looking for any reason he could find to punish Jimmy.
"You discipline Greg; don't tell me that you don't think it's important that slaves follow orders. On my first day at the hospital you had him whipped."
"For going into a patient's room without authorisation - something that could have gotten both him and the hospital into a lot of legal trouble. Not for being ten minutes late to bed. What did you say to Jimmy?"
"I told him he could sleep on the floor outside the door tonight."
"Good, that's appropriate and a proportionate response - he'll be uncomfortable for the night and he'll know better in the future. If he repeats the behaviour then you can punish him more severely."
"I just don't want him picking up bad habits."
"From Greg you mean?"
"I didn't say that."
"I don't care if you do. I know Greg isn't the perfect slave, but he's served me well enough for over twenty years, and he also is the hospital's main diagnostician, I think I can live with that. Now," she ran a hand up Eric's arm, moving closer to him," are we going to talk about our slaves all night or shall we move on to something more interesting?"
He still looked annoyed for a moment but then his expression softened and he drew her towards him. "I vote for something more interesting."
Cuddy had a morning meeting across town so she stayed behind when Foreman left at the usual time, with a tired looking slave in tow. She had a few things she wanted to do before she had to leave.
She stopped into the laundry room. "Greg, come with me." She left without waiting for a response and smiled to herself when she heard him following her a few seconds later. Greg might not be a show quality slave, but he still obeyed her.
She suspected that Jimmy had been late last night because he'd been talking to Greg, or maybe even more than that - she wasn't sure. She'd seen them exchanging looks when they weren't being observed, looks that shut the rest of the world out. They had spent a lot of time together alone in the early days of her and Eric's relationship. Greg had been far more settled during that time than he had for years. He'd always had a tendency towards getting bored and getting into trouble, and after the infarction that had taken a dark edge, with his attempting self-harm on several occasions. She'd kept cases flowing to keep him from sinking into depression but she'd still been forced to have him whipped more than she wanted.
Since he'd met Jimmy Greg had only had to have been whipped once, and that was on the first day he met him. So, taking everything into account, Cuddy was pleased that he apparently felt something for Jimmy, whether it was friendship, or more. Still, this couldn't be allowed to go too far. Jimmy had gotten careless last night.
She led Greg to his small room and opened the door.
"Kneel in the doorway," she instructed him and after a slight hesitation he did so, screwing his face up and grunting as he knelt. She rolled her eyes, she was well aware that he didn't like kneeling but she doubted it hurt that much.
She went over to the bed, stripping it back. It had been sloppily made, but she wasn't interested in that. She flipped the mattress up and retrieved two small chocolate bars underneath.
"One stroke for every piece of contraband," she reminded him of their standard arrangement and kept searching, making sure to throw as many of his things on the floor as possible. Before she was finished she had come up with three magazines that weren't on his approved reading list and some sort of cheap hand held game. There was probably more to be found but that would be enough to make her point. She gathered it all up and sent him to get a trash bag for it. When he returned she had him kneel again.
She picked up the small music player she let him have and held it out in front of him.
"Jimmy was late going to his room last night," she said, dropping the music player in the trash bag. "Go and throw these things away and then go and get the cane, I make that six strokes." The cane would make a nice impact that he would feel all day.
When he returned she had him drop his pants and bend over and she briskly delivered the strokes, he took it as stoically as always. She left the room in a mess, she'd get Jimmy to put it in order tonight - while Greg was occupied elsewhere - that should ensure that both slaves got her message loud and clear.
Glancing at her watch she told Greg to fetch her bag and go out to the car, there was just time to get to her meeting.
Greg suffered through Cuddy's meeting with the aid of long practice. His ass was burning from the six strokes with the cane she'd dealt out that morning. She was only a small woman but she always managed to make that thing sting when she used it. He'd caught a glimpse of six vivid red marks across his buttocks while he was pulling up his pants afterwards. She'd had him kneel through the meeting at her side, when he wasn't fetching and carrying for her and altogether it had been a morning he'd rather forget.
The car ride back to the hospital was uncomfortable, the slave harness didn't allow a lot of squirming around, the welts were painful and his leg was giving him hell.
At least Cuddy hadn't found the really important things he had hidden in his room; the little computer was still safe, as were his various medicinal aids and some other essentials. The loss of the little music player was a blow, but she'd taken it away before and he would probably get it back at some stage. What was most troubling was that Cuddy seemed to realise that he was the reason for James' tardiness the night before. Foreman might have bought the story about kitchen cabinet cleaning but Cuddy obviously thought there was something else there. She had let Greg know that by searching his room, something she rarely did.
He'd made himself vulnerable by allowing an attraction with James to form. He hadn't allowed himself to feel anything, let alone love, for anyone for a long time. Now Cuddy had one more thing to use against him, to try and hold him in check, she only had to threaten James to get to him.
Last night, when James was in his room, he'd wanted him to stay, whatever the consequences. He didn't care about possible punishment for himself, but he could have thrown away everything they already had in the quest for something more. He couldn't allow himself to be overcome by his emotions like that again. They had to be a lot more careful - Foreman and Cuddy couldn't suspect that there was anything between them other than friendship, and even that was forbidden for slaves. One of them would be sold instantly if their owners thought there was something between them. If James were sold he'd never see him again. It would be better that they just stayed as friends rather than risk that.
He'd tell James that the first chance they had to be alone, he was sure that he wouldn't like it, but they didn't have an alternative.
James bent to his work with a sigh. After he had been late going to his room a few days ago Foreman had ensured that he was kept very busy at night. His present task was to clean all the baseboards of the large house. It had been a long day already, with extra work in the laundry at the hospital and endless hours of kneeling by Foreman's side. Then there had been dinner preparation, a hurried meal snatched while Foreman and Cuddy ate and then cleaning up. Foreman had set him to work on the baseboards while he and Cuddy watched television in the main room. Foreman made a point of coming out every half hour or so, presumably to check that James was still working. Greg had been sent to his room after dinner to work on editing a paper that Chase had written and James couldn't get there without crossing through the room where Foreman was.
The night after the 'late to bed' incident James had been sent to clear up Greg's room. Cuddy had searched it and it was in complete disarray. Greg hadn't mentioned it but James saw that the little music player, one of Greg's most prized possessions, was missing. Greg also hadn't said that he'd been punished but James had been able to see it, in the way he walked, and the pain lines on his face. Greg had paid the price for James' carelessness.
When they had managed to have a few minutes alone together to talk Greg had decided, for both of them, that they shouldn't try and be together in that way anymore. He was worried that James would be sold away from here if Foreman or Cuddy found out. James had to admit that his fears weren't unfounded. Back in the Slave Training Facility two slaves had been caught having sex with each other, in the rare moments when they weren't being trained. Every slave in the Facility had been gathered to watch the punishment. They hadn't been whipped, because that might lessen their sale value, but they'd been harshly paddled and then caned and one of them had been taken away from the facility as soon as the punishment was over. All the slaves had been forbidden from even touching each other after that, except when it was necessary for training, and the other slave involved had been kept in isolation for the rest of his stay at the Facility.
He glanced at the cheap watch he wore, ten minutes until ten. He stood up, one hand on his aching back, and quickly gathered up his cleaning things. He made sure that he'd left everything tidy and then went to the main room and knelt in the doorway, hands behind his back. He was now required to report to Foreman every evening before going to his room, to ensure he wouldn't be late again.
"Sir, ma'am, do you require anything further tonight?" He asked when they turned their attention towards him.
"Have you finished your work?" Foreman asked, still half watching the movie.
"The downstairs ones are all done, sir. I haven't done the first floor ones yet."
"You can do them tomorrow; get up half an hour earlier."
"Yes, sir."
Go and get another bottle of wine for us and then you're dismissed."
"Yes, sir." James went through to the kitchen, fetched the wine and two fresh glasses and took them through, only to find Cuddy on the phone to the hospital.
"Put those down and go and get Greg and both of you go and wait by the door, we're going to the hospital." Foreman said. "Be quick about it."
"Yes, sir." He hurried off, going quickly to Greg's room.
Greg was lying on his bed, a journal in one hand, a pen in the other. He looked up when he heard James come in.
"You shouldn't be here." He glanced at the clock that hung over his bed. "You'll be late, we talked about this..."
"No, something has happened at the hospital, they're going back in. We have to go wait by the door."
Greg sat up and took off his glasses, discarding the journal.
"What is it?"
"I don't know. Something big I think. Come on, we have to go."
They arrived at the hospital to find a couple of police cars parked outside, and a small crowd on the sidewalk to the right of the main entrance. Cuddy walked up to the nearest police officer and introduced herself and they were taken through the crowd to the officer in charge. Greg could see a body on the ground with a couple of police standing nearby.
"Detective Lundy," the police officer introduced herself in response to Cuddy's greeting.
She glanced at Greg and James who was standing quietly by Foreman's side and then back at Cuddy.
"Maybe we should talk in private."
"This will be all over the hospital tomorrow, they'll hear about it anyway."
Lundy shrugged. "Okay. Well, it appears that the dead slave was in your slave treatment ward. He got hold of a scalpel somehow and stabbed a couple of nurses who tried to stop him."
"The nurses are okay?" Cuddy interrupted.
"Superficial wounds. Your emergency staff are seeing to them, we haven't had a chance to interview them yet. He used one of them as a hostage to get past the security guard and then fled. The security guard raised the alarm and sealed off the hospital. Apparently the slave was trapped inside and made his way up to the roof and then jumped. He nearly took out a guy on the sidewalk."
"Has his owner been informed?"
"He was owned by the Chairman of this hospital - a Mr Vogler, according to the staff we've talked to. We rang him but he declined to come in, he said you would handle it and to just dispose of the body." Lundy shrugged. "We have the slave's ID off his collar, formal identification isn't necessary but we will require an autopsy."
"I'd like to see the body before you move it."
"Sure," Lundy waved a hand. "Over there - it's not pretty."
"We're doctors, I think we'll cope," Cuddy said drily and walked over to the body. As he hadn't been told to stay behind Greg followed and when he glanced around he found Foreman and James standing over the body of the slave.
Lundy was right, it wasn't pretty. Greg recognised the slave - he'd seen him with Vogler around the hospital a few times. He was only wearing a thin pair of hospital scrubs - standard garb for the male slaves in the slave ward - and his feet were bare. His back was exposed and it was easy to see he'd been recently beaten, severely; the marks disappeared under the waistband of the pants. His collar still remained firmly around his broken neck. Greg had a sudden impulse to step forward and cut it off - to let this slave have the freedom in death he couldn't have in life.
He heard a distressed noise and looked up to see James staring at the body, his face pale. James Wilson, the oncologist, would have seen his fair share of death, and ravaged bodies. Jimmy, the slave, wasn't used to it.
"It's Jake," James said and then found three pairs of eyes on him. He bit his lip, obviously thinking he'd said too much but then straightened and me their eyes. "His name was Jake."
"We'll need the slave's admission chart, and his medical records if you have them," Lundy said, coming over to them from where she'd been talking to another officer. "And I'll need to interview the nurses when they're able. This will all be passed to the Slave Unit to look into - they'll probably want to come and check your security arrangements. It's a serious matter, a slave attacking a free person. You might want to review hospital procedures for the slave ward yourself. Even the most docile slave can become frightened and agitated when they're hurt. If you're not routinely restraining them in the ward you should start."
"Yes, thank you, officer." Cuddy said, her tone cool.
Once Lundy had moved away Cuddy looked at Greg.
"Once the body has been taken to the morgue I want you to have a look at it. An autopsy will be conducted in the morning but I want your impressions. Go over his medical records too, go and get them from the slave ward while you're waiting for the body to be taken down. Make a copy for the officer and one for yourself, I'll phone through to the ward and tell them you have permission."
"What am I looking for?" Greg asked. "Slave fell off the roof; pretty sure cause of death might have something to do with that."
"That's enough, Greg. Just do what you're told. You're looking for anything unusual. Take Jimmy, he can make himself useful and you probably shouldn't be wandering around by yourself at the moment. Do not provoke anyone; people are likely to be jumpy about slaves tonight."
She turned away and Greg went to move off. He looked around for James; he was still staring at the body on the ground. He nudged him and James looked up at him, his face pale.
"Come on, he's not going to get anything but deader with you staring at him. Let's go." He took hold of James' arm lightly, and James finally pulled himself away and fell into step beside him.
It was the early hours of the morning before slaves and owners both left the hospital. Greg was clutching the complete medical file of the dead slave, including the admission and treatment notes from his stay in the slave ward. His quick reading of them, and his viewing of the body, confirmed his opinion that Jake had been severely abused. He didn't need the confirmation really; he knew firsthand what Vogler was capable of. He'd also seen the man with his slaves, and talked to a few of them. Other people in the hospital gossiped too - it was well known that his treatment of his slaves went beyond 'discipline'. Jake probably hadn't set out to harm anyone else, he just wanted to escape, or maybe he really did intend to commit suicide all along. Nobody but Jake would know, and Jake could no longer tell anyone.
He found sleep elusive; the image of the dead body and the blood at the entrance to the slave ward stayed with him. He doubted that there was a slave alive who hadn't thought of escape, or of suicide. Both were tantalising options when you faced a lifetime of slavery with no hope of freedom except when you died. Every slave had both a location chip surgically implanted, and a tracking device in their collar. Any runaway slave would be quickly tracked down and punishment was severe - whipping, isolation and then mind-wiping. Being caught meant losing any little bit of yourself you had managed to hold onto. There weren't many runaways.
After lying awake and staring at the ceiling for a long time he sat up, turned the light on and grabbed the file again. He was reading Jake's doctor's notes - perfunctory at best - when he heard the door opening.
James quietly slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, coming to sit next to Greg on the bed.
"You shouldn't be here. What if..."
"They're asleep and I really don't care."
"James... "
"Jake is dead. I didn't know him; I asked him his name once, that's all. Maybe nobody really knew him and now he's dead because of Vogler, and no-one is going to give a damn. They just scraped him off the sidewalk and didn't even ask why he might do something like that." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, as if trying to rub away the tension that had gathered there. "I'll go in a minute. I just... I need to be with you for a little while."
James leaned in so that their shoulders were pressed together. After a few moments Greg put his arm around him and gathered him close and they sat together in silence.