A/N: Not much to say ahead of this installment. See you at the end!

Chapter 14

"Got you!" de'Letnoir said with a little too much glee. Warren had quickly lost his fourth sonji-mir game that morning. None of the matches so far had lasted longer than a few minutes, even with de'Letnoir coaching Warren's moves.

"Beating novices seems to please you!" Warren chided with a smirk.

"Unashamedly so," de'Letnoir laughed. "The thrill of victory is something I'll take even if comes from someone who's just learning. I'm not a humble winner, you'll find."

"Figured that out the first time you whopped me in about three moves," Warren said easing back from the game table set up in the office area at the back of stores. Sonji-mir was a crazy blend of Chess, Go, and Yinsh. Incredibly complex, Warren had read and reread the rules and decided the only way to begin to understand the game was to start playing.

"At least you lay out the board correctly now," the officer jibed with a wide grin.

"I'll take my successes wherever I can at this point! I'm thinking the game takes a lifetime to master."

"You're right. Though some say you never really master it."

Warren nodded, staring at the board where de'Letnoir had secured victory in six moves. "I'm not ready to give up yet."

"Good! Then another lesson tomorrow?" de'Letnoir looked hopeful. He seemed to be enjoying teaching as much as having someone to best.

"I guess I'll come back for more punishment," Warren said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Did you try playing against the computer yet? Set it to novice level so you'll actually have a chance to play more than five moves," the crewmember added mischievously. "The teaching mode will even explain your move options and the strategy behind them."

"Good suggestion, but I spend way too much time in front of the computer already," Warren said crossing his arms and leaning back. It was a sad commentary of the dull life he was forced to live.

"You keep saying you want something to do from your chambers. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave many options, friend." Then de'Letnoir rested his forearms on the game table and looked directly into Warren's eyes. "Why don't you want to venture out? Why do you isolate yourself? Or is it on our Emperor's orders?"

'Shit. How do I want to handle this?' He gave himself time to think before speaking. "I'm having a hard time adjusting is all, and I feel more comfortable staying on deck two. Maybe once I feel more…settled…" and he left the rest open to interpretation.

The officer studied Warren for a bit, then slowly smiled. "I hope that's all it is. Some of us were thinking maybe we all smelled bad to you or something equally offensive," he chuckled.

The remark took Warren by surprise. Never once had he considered how his self-imposed isolation might look to the Mi-Lartui crew. Were they used to Ztar's previous companions (God, how he hated that word) milling around the ship and socializing? Was he the only one that had chosen to stay apart?

"My apologies. No, nothing like that. I just…need more time I guess."

de'Letnoir leaned back in the chair, looking more serious than Warren had seen him before. "You are welcome anywhere on this ship, Archangel. You are a member of the Emperor's extended Court and anyone on board would be honored to make your acquaintance." Then de'Letnoir smiled broadly. "I am!"

Warren was taken aback. Court? Honored? A very different perspective. Was de'Letnoir being truthful or kind? No way of knowing. Even if true, it changed nothing of how Warren felt about himself or his situation.

"Thanks, that's good to know."

"When you feel like venturing beyond deck two and stores, let me know and I'll join you…if you'd like."

"Thanks for the offer," Warren replied, but not sure when or if he'd take the officer up on his invitation. To be honest with himself, even if the Mi-Lartui crew was very offended by his standoffishness, he didn't care one iota.

###

Ztar's day had not gone well and he was angry. No, make that furious. Troubles again with Mygra System, only now it seemed the Commonwealth may be playing a major role. MI's investigation found connections between the Mygra resistance and Commonwealth spies. After reading the report, Ztar had comlinked directly with General Gtar-Cro. They discussed the various implications of that intelligence along with the progress made regarding the Raisil situation. Too many possible infiltrations and subversive activities happening in a relatively short period. Ztar was beginning to seethe about continued Commonwealth subterfuge. Something was definitely amiss with that realm, and Ztar wanted confirmation of what it was and he wanted it immediately.

Not only were the Mygra System and the Commonwealth growing agitations, but the small Etabre Collective he wanted to add to the Empire was baulking. At first, Etabre appeared to be an easy acquisition with resources of immediate value. They hadn't the military might to fight off the Empire for long and knew it. Their representatives had presented themselves as agreeable entrants into Turzent space, and thus the Collective's populace would enjoy the freedoms of those who chose not to fight, but join willingly. All had seemed to go according to plan. Now Planetary Relations informed him that the Etabres were dragging their feet with all manner of special requests and objections to standard conditions of entry. None of it unexpected – negotiations are negotiations. But it never failed to raise Ztar's ire when a system he could crush in a matter of days felt bold enough to make special demands. For now, he'd let his shrewd planetary relations staff and legal counselors work out the issues. Still, the situation irritated him. If in the end he had to go in with military force, beware!

Staff reports were filled with numerous other smaller issues that were being dealt with by subordinates, yet each new problem was an irritant. Then to top everything off nicely, he learned at the morning staff meeting that Mi-Lartui had developed FTL drive "abnormalities" as chief engineer de'Redlyr phrased it. Unless it could be corrected underway, they would need to go a repair station. He had the best engineering crew in the Empire and expected his ship to perform accordingly. Therefore, Ztar was never happy when the Mi-Lartui had to dock for repairs.

Pacing back and forth in his chambers, he realized he was feeling more and more manipulated by Commonwealth scheming. The one thing Ztar hated most was feeling controlled or plied and it was dredging up old emotions and wounds. It was likely the root of much of the anger he felt boiling just below the surface. However, knowing that and dispelling the fury were two different things.

He needed Archangel to escape for awhile. A release in the bedchamber would steady him. It was still afternoon, but that didn't matter. Archangel should be in his chambers as usual. A fire ignited in his groin with the mere thought of an afternoon interlude, something he had rarely allowed himself through the years. Discipline caused him to focus on imperial matters during the days, and partake of personal pleasures after hours. But that day, he'd allowed himself the special indulgence. Ztar placed his palm on the bio-sig panel and strode into the adjoining quarters. Archangel was not there.

'Where?' Reaching out telepathically he found the Human in stores chatting with the procurement officer. Of all the times for Archangel to be socializing, Ztar thought illogically, as if Archangel should have known he wanted a daytime tryst. Ztar called himself on the irrational notion. Still, he was perturbed regardless of how illogical it was.

Rather than summoning Archangel telepathically, Ztar would wait. It would give him time to anticipate the delights to come. How long could Archangel be, after all?

###

"Perhaps we should begin scheduled deliveries to your chambers," the procurement officer ribbed. "You could place a standing order – we'll deliver every couple days!" Officer de'Letnoir snickered as Warren pulled several items from the storage units.

Warren couldn't help but chuckle, too. It felt so similar to the friendly teasing he endured at the X-mansion about his constant need for food. As much as he had protested the joking, he enjoyed the camaraderie it created. Yes, he should have grabbed up a few items after their morning sonji-mir game, but it was Warren's excuse for venturing outside his chambers for a second time that day.

"Then I wouldn't get to interrupt your naptime, de'Letnoir!" Warren continued the repartee.

"Oh, there's no napping down here. Not when I've got to stay on top of my rapidly dwindling stocks!" The alien let loose one of his boisterous laughs.

Warren shook his head as he bagged his booty. The procurement officer rested elbows on the service counter and eyed Warren.

"Archangel, we were wondering…I was wondering, you've been on board for about what, 45-50 days now? Perhaps it's time for you to venture out. Previous companions usually took advantage of Mi-Lartui's facilities. There's no reason to isolate yourself – it can't be good for you. And don't tell me coming down here an hour or two for sonji-mir is enough." de'Letnoir's voice carried concern.

Warren stopped in mid-motion. Hearing the word companion was cutting and humiliating, but he swallowed down the emotions as he knew de'Letnoir had no idea now much it affected him.

"I'm having a small gathering after shift tomorrow," the procurement office continued. "Xliar from engineering, Podranitz-Myr from security, and a couple others. Just a few drinks and some light food. Would you be interested? I'd be honored if you'd come. So would the others."

Warren blinked at the officer. He was quite surprised by the offer. Playing a board game with the crewmember to past the long hours was one thing, but to be invited to join him and his friends…that was completely unexpected. Warren wasn't sure what his expression had revealed, but suddenly de'Letnoir appeared worried.

"If I broke protocol or some other rule, please forgive me!"

Warren found his voice. "No. At least I don't think so," He actually had no idea. Putting that aside, Warren wasn't sure he wanted to form any attachments. Emotionally, he didn't think he was up for it. Yet he was so lonely. The days were long and empty. But would Ztar allow it even if Warren decided he'd like to join the officer and his friends? Did Warren care one way or the other?

"Can I get back to you?" he offered.

"Of course. I know you need to check the Emperor's schedule."

"Yes," he replied faintly. 'It's so hard to arrange your social calendar when you need to be available to be sexual assaulted every night.' The thought burned like acid, but he managed a smile for the alien who was becoming a friend. "Thank you for the invite."

"Just so there's plenty of incentive, know that we'll be enjoying a glass or two of Dison," de'Letnoir added with a sly grin.

Warren couldn't help but smile back. "Very tempting." He packed the rest of the foodstuffs into his parcel.

"You can let me know tomorrow morning when I beat you once again at sonji-mir!" de'Letnoir jabbed, grinning widely.

###

Waiting was not one of Ztar's strengths. Minutes passed and still no Archangel. He paced, errant thoughts bouncing back and forth between impatient conjectures as to what was taking his companion so long and irritated condemnation of Commonwealth attempts to undermine his empire. All the while, anger built steadily.

'By the gods, where is Archangel?' he demanded. Reaching out once again, he found Archangel still in stores. He would tolerate no more delays.

/ Archangel, to your chambers now! / he lashed out telepathically.

In stores, the procurement officer stopped in mid sentence as Warren's hand went to his head with a wince.

"Are you not well?" the Officer de'Letnoir asked alarmed, eyes wide.

"The Emperor – he wants me upstairs," Warren muttered, Ztar's voice ringing in his head. The angry telepathic bolt smarted and dread clenched his stomach.

Officer de'Letnoir picked up and handed over the parcel. "I hope all is well…"

'What a surreal life I'm leading,' Warren reflected bitterly walking down the corridor with heavy steps. He was obeying the summons by an obviously irate alien rapist, and he was doing so of his own volition. 'What's got a burr up the bastard's ass? God, how could my life be more fucked up – literally and figuratively?' And he didn't have a goddamn choice. Just need to hang on until your friends come, he kept telling himself, but it had been 50 days and belief in rescue was wavering. 'Dear God, if I have to live like this for much longer… If they don't come…'

He swallowed down despair and hopelessness that all too quickly rose up. 'Don't think that way,' he scolded himself, returning thoughts to the immediate situation. No matter how furious the Emperor sounded, Warren couldn't bring himself to hurry to minimize that fury. With each step, anxiety grew.

What did Ztar want? Would this be like after Trapia? Did he want an afternoon romp? An angry Ztar would mean a brutal Ztar. Nausea followed the thought.

He contemplated how he might handle the situation. Yet in the past, Warren's attempts to mitigate Ztar's aggressiveness usually backfired, so 'handling the situation' may be overly optimistic. If he couldn't calm the alien, things would be bad. But it was only afternoon and perhaps Ztar didn't want what Warren thought. No way to know until he got to his chambers.

###

With Archangel on the way, Ztar was only somewhat less irritated. Mental monitoring showed the Human was not moving with haste. Empathically, Ztar could feel the apprehension, but that was no excuse for a leisurely stroll to deck two. When he commanded, the Emperor expected people to hustle. The fact that Archangel was taking his time was intolerable!

Ztar forced himself to sit, anger simmering. He had been more than accommodating to Archangel's needs, stopping by planets to allow the Human time in the air. Plus, Ztar had told Sukja to do whatever was necessary to ensure Archangel was comfortable. And Ztar had been gentle in bed several times, setting aside his own needs to make those encounters less difficult for the man. All was more than Ztar had done for any bedmate in recent memory. It was beyond what a bedmate should expect. Didn't that deserve greater respect than leisurely meandering? Perhaps a lesson in respect was in order.

###

Warren entered his chambers hesitantly. The Emperor sat stiffly in the lounge area. One look and Warren knew foul mood was an understatement. He set the foodstuffs down in the kitchen.

"You called?" he asked mildly, trying to lighten the mood – maybe that would ease the situation.

The Human sounded flippant. Ztar rose slowly and righted himself to his full seven-foot stature. "You kept me waiting," the Emperor pointed out in an ominous tone.

"I came straight here, but I didn't know you were in a hurry," Warren countered, keeping his voice calm. Unfortunately, Ztar did not look pleased at the reply.

"I summoned you, and you intentionally took your time," the second accusation was delivered with menacing chill.

Warren stayed in the kitchen as far from Ztar as he could physically be in the chambers. 'This does not look good, Warren ol' boy.' He was starting to sweat. "No, Ztar, I came immediately. What more do you want?" Warren questioned. He hadn't run to his chambers, true. Is that what Ztar had expected? Ridiculous!

'How dare this Human think he can dally when I command!' Anger no longer simmered…it rolled in a full boil. Ztar took a step closer, narrowed eyes hardening. "I demand more respect than a slow, leisurely pace when summoned, Archangel. Perhaps you forget your place."

Warren saw the change from barely controlled anger to what looked to be erupting fury. His heart raced at the thought of Ztar losing control. The alien mutant was capable of inflicting a lot of pain in a lot of ways. 'What the hell has him so angry? How to defuse this? Same as Trapia?' he thought desperately.

/ Do not even contemplate that trick! / Ztar burned the warning into Archangel's mind.

The words felt like tendrils of liquid fire in his brain. Warren yelped in pain and clutched his head. "I won't! Ztar, I'm sorry! But you're angry about something. What did I do?" Warren pleaded hoping the direct approach would work.

Ztar moved in as rage gripped his mind in a blistering fever. "What is wrong is the lack of respect that you've developed. When I command, you obey! No excuses. No delays!"

Warren wanted to run, but he was trapped in the corner. Ztar's long legs closed the gap quickly, wrath contorting the man's face.

"Ztar, I came when you called! Why are you so mad? You're being irrational!" Warren argued, backing into the wall as the Emperor reached him. He wanted to strike out, escape, something, but knew it would only make matters worse. Ztar's behavior was as bewildering as it was frightening. The alien had been less volatile of late – what changed? What happened? Warren was at a loss for an explanation.

"Insolent!" he roared. Grabbing an arm, he yanked the Human out of the kitchen and into the main living area. With a powerful shove, Archangel was on the floor on his backside.

'What the hell is wrong with Ztar? He's lost it!' Dread was coiling up inside Warren, twisting his guts. 'This is going to be bad!' Was Ztar going to beat him? A brutal rape? What? The situation was insanity! He'd done nothing to create so much hostility. With Ztar looming over him, Warren remained on the floor. Getting up would be a huge mistake he knew without a shadow of doubt.

"Ztar, you're losing control," Warren said up to the figure looming as softly and gently as he could. "Maybe I can help…" He was quickly running out of options to calm the alien.

Ztar knelt swiftly down next to Archangel, fire burning white hot in the brown eyes. He'd had enough. "Perhaps you should have been more prompt when I called you."

With a hand to Warren's chest, Ztar pushed him hard into the floor. The pain that shot through Warren's back and wings took his breathe away. 'Shit!' He grabbed the arm holding him down and tried to dislodge it, but the raging alien was far too strong. "What are you doing? What did I do? I don't understand!"

"We have sex here." Ztar flattened the Human's legs with a swipe to the ankles and quickly swung himself over the man, never removing the hand from Archangel's chest.

Warren was in his worst possible position – on his back on a hard surface. The thin rug did nothing to cushion the floor. Pain radiated across his back and wing joints, from wing base to wing tip. 'God, that hurts!'

"The bed would be more comfortable. This is not good," he offered while battling against intense urges to fight off his attacker.

"I will have you where I choose!" Was there no end to the Human's impertinence?

As Ztar leaned down on Warren's chest, the pain increased dramatically and he hissed through clenched teeth. 'Bastard! Mother fucking son of a bitch!' he swore as the pain shot through him. "Ztar, if you want sex, fine, but not here. Please, think about what you're doing." He tried reasoning with the man one more time, but it was becoming very clear that Ztar was beyond reason.

"This works perfectly," Ztar said into Archangel's ear before bringing his mouth down hard on the Human's. The teeth were clenched tight and he wanted in. / Open to me now! /

Pain escalated as wing joints ground into the floor and Warren would have had a hard time unclenching his teeth even if he had wanted to. Suddenly, a steel vise clamped around his mind. Warren's mouth opened without his control and Ztar kissed him savagely, his full upper body weight coming down on Warren. Wings and back screamed their agony, but Warren could do nothing under the telepathic hold. He would heal, but Ztar was being cruel and Warren could find nothing to warrant it.

/ Z-Ztar, stop! Why are you doing this? Let me up! / he projected desperately, but Ztar did not relent. The kissing and roving hands continued unabated. / I don't deserve this. I-I came when you called. What did I do wrong? What? / Even in his mind, the words cracked with emotion and tears of pain filled his eyes. / Why? /

Ztar filled his mouth with Archangel's, ignoring the plaintive mental pleas. He would take his companion there on the floor, protests or no protests. Ztar knew Archangel was in pain, but pain was a powerful teacher. The Human would learn respect. He would do as commanded – promptly.

Warren wanted to fight, kick, punch whatever it took to get the heavy alien off, but he had learned it would only increase the brutality. Every movement of his body caused stabbing pain. It was becoming nearly impossible to bite back groans and yelps. And then suddenly, thoughts of fighting fell away and there was no more anger.

Hopelessness wrapped around Warren. He could find nothing to justify the Ztar's anger. The past weeks he had worked to read what triggered aggression. He'd believed the alien was easing up; hoped the worst was over. Hope shattered. The man was attacking him for no apparent reason – out of the blue. If Warren couldn't predict the rages, then he'd live in constant high alert and dread. Was that how it would be for the rest of his days? Never knowing what would set the alien monarch off? Never certain of why cruelty was inflicted?

Warren was sacrificing so much while trying to remain sane. Walking the tightrope between submission and holding onto a shred of self-respect was stress to the extreme. He couldn't do it any more. Couldn't hold on any longer. And who cared? No one. He was not worth it…certainly not in Ztar's eyes and not to the people who had bartered him away. A pretty body for the alien's sadistic sexual gratification and an outlet for his anger – that's all he was. An endless, living nightmare filled with fear, pain, and slavery was his only future. Rescue wasn't coming. Warren gave up. Hope collapsed with a physical shudder. Misery and despair rushed in to fill the void and consume body and soul.

He devoured Archangel as the dark compulsion drove him. Unchecked emotions whirled in a wild, volatile blend. Colliding needs – Ztar wanted Archangel in sensual passion to escape the aggravations of the day, yet he wanted to punish the defiant Human for his insolence. Ztar pushed aside internal contradiction and ran his hands over the magnificent body that was his possession. It belonged to him and him alone. He would use it as he saw fit.

Fingers raked through feathers, tore at clothing, and pressed into the Human's body with force, while the object of the lust/anger groaned and hissed. With a hand to either side of Archangel's head, the darkness inside Ztar held his companion fast in another crushing kiss. 'Take what you need!' it whispered in his mind.

Empathic ability pricked at his consciousness with flickers of bleakness, but the dark anger within the Turzent ignored the whispers. All that mattered was satisfying the need to dominate…control…feed the beast within. Savagely, he assailed the shuddering body beneath him. Still holding the face between his hands, Ztar consumed the sensual mouth, nearly sucking the breath from his companion in desire so powerful he wished to physically meld with the man.

Then awareness came of a strange sensation…almost like a trickle across the back of one hand. Odd!

Rising up slightly, he looked more fully at Archangel. The Human's eyes were overflowing with tears. Ztar gazed at the sight. Crying? That wasn't supposed to happen! He reached out empathically. Pain, despair – so dark! Archangel was being swallowed. It was like a bucket of ice water to the face.

'By the gods!' Ztar's anger evaporated with realization that he had lost himself once again to the beast within. Nearly leaping backward off Archangel, he was mortified. 'Not again! By the gods, what am I doing?'

"My Archangel!" Ztar reached out and pulled his companion up into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around the trembling body. "You are right, you did nothing to deserve this. I lost control."

Warren allowed the Emperor to hold him without struggling, too numb to care. The alien stroked his wings and rocked gently, but said nothing more. A few moments later, Ztar initiated standing.

"I will not come to you tonight. Rest."

With that, Ztar returned to his chambers. Warren noted that although the Emperor seemed remorseful, he did not apologize. Apparently, imperial whores weren't worthy of that either.

###

'What manner of man am I?' Ztar raged at himself. 'For taking two extra minutes to come, I punish him?'

The Emperor stormed back and forth in turmoil. 'Where did all my grand plans go to be consistent and steady with Archangel? My anger had nothing to do with him, yet he suffered for it! By the gods, how can I justify that?'

He needed Sukja. His attendant would help sort things out…help repair the damage.

###

Warren moved to the window seat and crawled into the corner. Pulling wings tightly around, caring little about the pain that still stabbed with their every movement, he tried to go away in his mind.

"I can't do this anymore. Can't," he whimpered. 'God, please release me from this hell. I'll do anything! Please!' he begged. 'Why am I here? Why am I being punished? What did I do so wrong in my life? I just need to know!'

Warren remained huddled in the corner, hugging knees to chest within the feather cocoon.

###

Sukja entered Ztar's chambers knowing the man was in emotional chaos – that was evident from his mental summons.

"My Emperor," he greeted the pacing man; his concern deepening at the sight. Catching a glimpse of the Turzent's face revealed deep furrows creasing the otherwise smooth forehead. Only a handful of situations could so visibly agitate the monarch. It didn't take much deductive ability to guess the latest upset had to do with Archangel. Sukja braced himself for another bedchamber crisis.

"I don't know what came over me, Sukja! Archangel did not cause my anger, but he took the brunt of it. I wanted him so I could escape, not so he could become its target. But that's what happened!"

Sukja needed the story to back up a few steps if he was going to be of any assistance. "Could we sit?" he suggested. Ztar hesitated at first, but then complied. "You went to Archangel this afternoon, and things didn't go as planned," Sukja opened.

Ztar nodded and then related the situation in all its fury-filled details. As he described what had transpired, it only drove home more clearly how misdirected the anger had been.

"It wasn't about Archangel taking his time; I was upset about everything else. I was wrong to take it out on him. That's not what I intended, but I lost control – again! I could have found the quiet place in his mind as I've done before, but my anger blocked any desire for that. By the gods, I need to get a handle on this!" Ztar couldn't sit any longer. He stood and began pacing again. "He offered to help me calm down. Begged me to stop. He pleaded to know what he'd done wrong, but I listened to none of it. What by the gods is wrong with me? Why do I lose control?"

Ztar's desperation to understand his deep-seated anger was a good sign, but only if the man used understanding to conquer the rage. Insight gains you little if the knowledge isn't applied. This was an old battle for the warrior king, one in which he'd gained ground in fits and starts. And many times, he had fallen back. Sukja sighed internally.

"But you did regain control, my Emperor. That's encouraging," Sukja pointed out, trying to find some good in the backward slip. The Emperor was more distraught over what had happened than he'd seen in a long time.

"Only after I had inflicted enough pain that Archangel was crying. Crying, Sukja! How much damage did I do today? He's filled with despair – the empathic connection is dark. He's curled in a corner thinking how hopeless his situation is. If I lose him to that despair, I will never forgive myself."

Ztar wrestled with emotions he hadn't felt over a bedmate in years. He'd harden his heart so much to avoid the pain as companion after companion could not survive or satisfy him. All he wanted was someone who made him burn with desire. Someone with whom he didn't have to be less than what he was; didn't have to hold back and accept less than complete fulfillment. The augmentation took so much from him. Damn the gods for the day he was betrayed by those he trusted! May they burn in whatever hell he had sent them to.

"Don't be too harsh with yourself, my Emperor. You're working on controlling the anger…making progress – that's what is important. Change does not happen overnight." Ztar's anger with himself would not remedy the situation…it might actually add to the deep rage. That worried Sukja.

Ztar stopped and faced his attendant squarely. "Tell that to Archangel!" he fired back with a sweep of an arm toward the adjoining chambers. "Or to any of the bedmates I've hurt. I don't know what I am anymore! But I do know what I want – Archangel. I want him in my life for a very long time. I finally have a companion that satisfies me. I've waited years for him, Sukja – can you understand?"

Sukja nodded. He knew all too well how long the Emperor had tried to find a suitable companion. And Sukja knew precisely how many bedmates Ztar had gone through during his years of service to the Emperor. Sukja remembered their names, their faces – some of them haunted him, especially those that didn't not survive intact – either physically or mentally. Most, though, were simply discarded by the Emperor as unsuitable.

"I do understand. I know how important it is to you that this pairing works."

Ztar walked again, but more slowly and with less agitation. "For it to work, I need to get a handle on the misdirected anger. But it takes over before I know what's happening." The deep voice was filled with frustration.

"There are warning signs – we've discussed them. That's when you must stop the spiraling. Right then, when you see the signs." Sukja had coached Ztar on the issue far longer than Archangel had been in the picture. Ztar said he wanted to gain control over the internal anger, and Sukja believed he was being truthful. Ztar knew the signals of impending rage, and often he would halt the escalation at that point. Then there were other times, like that afternoon, when he let the rage overwhelm him. Why?

Ztar stopped in front of the windows and stared out at the star streaks as the Mi-Lartui sped through the blackness. That blackness resembled the part of himself he was struggling to control – it was dark and deep. He sighed. "You must tire of giving me that advice over and over. The results are always the same. I know what to do, yet…" the Turzent shook his head. "I am a mystery unto myself."

The Emperor stood quietly for a minute contemplating. "Perhaps I didn't have enough reason in the past to conquer this. My previous companions were failures – what was there to motivate me? Those failures only added to the anger. Maybe I really didn't care if I caused them pain – they were part of the problem."

They'd been down this path before, too, Sukja lamented silently. What Ztar said was likely one facet of the issue, but Sukja believed it went deeper than failed pairings. The failures were symptoms, not causes.

Ztar turned away from the vastness of space to face his confidante. "But Archangel is different. He is perfect for me in every way I can name. He will be my motivation, Sukja. He will give me reason to halt the anger." Ztar strode back to sit once again across from the attendant. "I want him so much. The fire he ignites burns white hot in me. I've felt nothing like it before. It consumes me…" Ztar's voice trailed off.

A tinge of concern ran through Sukja at the Emperor's words. They hinted of obsession, something that could become a problem. It would bear watching. "Do you want more from Archangel than him just in your bed?" Sukja inquired.

Ztar looked into the Ozjaerian's gray eyes. "Yes. For the first time in a long time, I think I want more than just a bedmate. I might want it go to beyond sex. Perhaps Archangel could be a true companion."

Sukja was pleased to hear the man at long last was considering a relationship rather than just a sex partner. But Archangel was not there of his own choosing and a deeper relationship between Ztar and the Human may never be possible. That could be a very problematic.

"My Emperor, it pleases me greatly that you may have finally found someone you wish to bond with more closely. Very good news indeed." Sukja paused knowing the man may not want to hear what he had to say next. "But I also caution about expecting too much. Archangel is not here willingly. Not only is he here against his will, but your pairing is unnatural to him. There is only so much you can reasonably expect. Do not build up hopes for what may not be possible." When it looked like Ztar was going to interrupt in protest, Sukja plowed forward. "I'm not saying it could never happen, but let reason guide you. Don't press for more than he's capable of giving, especially this early. Be clear in your own mind about what you want from Archangel in the short term and make sure he knows that. Be steady and consistent as we discussed before. Let him first settle into this new life with clear but limited expectations."

Ztar sat transfixed on his attendant's words. They spoke of that which he hadn't wanted to face, but needed to. With Sukja's summation, the road ahead looked very rocky. He had to get a handle on the blackness within or all was lost.

"As for your own behavior, I see it as one step backward in a generally forward journey. You will overcome this, my Emperor. For now, reassure Archangel with your actions, as that will go further than words. His despair comes from belief that his circumstance will never improve. Show him it can. If you're consistent, he will learn what to expect from you and what you expect from him. When things are clear and settled and he is less fearful, the despair should ease."

Ztar sighed heavily. "If only it were all as easy as saying the words."

"Very little in life that's worth pursuing is easy, my Emperor, but you have the will and the strength to do whatever you set your mind to do," Sukja encouraged with a reassuring smile.

"I told him I wouldn't go to him tonight, but I want him," the Emperor admitted.

"Keep your word. Never lie to Archangel. More than anything, he needs to know he can believe what you say. And you need to know he believes you. I cannot emphasize that enough."

Ztar was thoughtful for a bit, his mind wandering to what the future might hold. "He's developing a friendship with Procurement Officer de'Letnoir. That's a good sign," he noted offhandedly.

"I know. de'Letnoir keeps me informed. He is encouraging Archangel to start forming attachments among the crew. So far, though, he is only comfortable with the officer."

Ztar did not respond to that information, but sat quietly for many moments. "You've given me much to contemplate, my attendant."

"Then I have served my Emperor well today."

With the Turzent assuaged, Sukja's thoughts turned to the Human. What Ztar had said earlier about his emotional state was worrisome. "I should check on Archangel," he informed Ztar.

Ztar nodded. "The empathic connection remains dark and heavy. His thoughts…" Ztar paused as he surface-read Archangel, "are of what he's lost…and life without hope. He is on the verge of depression," he finished with a heavy, almost painful sigh. The damage he'd done in just a few uncontrolled minutes…

Ztar rubbed his tense neck muscles. 'In the name of the gods, how did I come to this? Ripping a being from everything he knows to satisfy my needs?' he questioned himself. 'But it's imperial tradition,' he justified, 'my right to claim whomever I choose. And now that I have Archangel, I can't let him go. I won't! He is mine and he must survive. I must make certain of that.'

"I will see to him." As he rose from the chair, Sukja saw both sadness and determination in Ztar's countenance. The Emperor wanted so much from the Human and the only things Archangel felt toward Ztar was odium and repulsion. How could their pairing ever work? Sukja chose not to dwell on that. At that moment, Archangel's emotional crisis was top priority.

###

Despair coiled around him like icy blackness. He felt cold and dead from the inside out. Where was the anger? He should be livid at what Ztar did. All he felt was hopelessness. The rampage in his room, the days of simmering fury, and his brief physical attack of the alien – was that all he had? Had he been beaten down already? How pathetic!

Warren tried to rekindle the fire. 'You should be ripping this room apart again, Worthington. Where's the Archangel in you? Instead, you're curled up in this corner like some whipped puppy feeling sorry for yourself. Is this how you want Scott and Hank and the others to find you?'

His chest tightened at the thought of friends that were family. Hope tried to rise up again. They were coming, weren't they? The Prof would find a way, wouldn't he? But belief in that rescue had become extremely tenuous. Only by him remaining with Ztar would the Earth be safe from the Turzents. And Warren didn't believe for one minute that Ztar's threat against Earth was empty. And the senseless episode minutes earlier proved how unstable the alien was. Ztar would do what he said if angry enough, Warren believed.

'They're not coming for you – it's not logical. Why put all of Humanity in jeopardy for me? Not happening, flyboy. You were a fool to have believed it. Who in their right mind would risk a planet to save one individual?' Warren shuddered with the final release of that belief and felt sick.

'Charles knows you. Knows you'll do exactly what you've been doing – whatever it takes to protect Earth. They're counting on that. Every damn one of them that sold you out is counting on you to make whatever sacrifices are demanded. Why risk such a simple solution with an improbable rescue directly prohibited by the Accord? Back on Earth, life is going merrily along as if the Turzent Empire doesn't exist. Only a stupid and naïve fool would believe anyone back home would risk that for me. Stupid and naïve!'

Blackness sunk deeper.

Belief in a miracle rescue had kept him from contemplating his long-term prospects, but if rescue was not coming, then what? Suddenly, the future was very bleak. Empty days without purpose. Pain-filled nights spent beneath the brutal alien who had stolen everything.

'That can't be all there is! But God, it is. Everything's gone. My life is gone. No Worthington Industries, no saving the world from the bad guys. No friends, no family. I'll never see them again. I'm nothing – not an X-man, not the head of Mom and Dad's company. I'm not even a person by the Accord…just so much property. Nothing. Nobody. Only a whore for Ztar's sexual gratification. God, I can't live like that!' He held tight to himself, wanting to scream until his voice gave out. 'Damn Sukja – he should have let me go crazy that night. Insanity would be better than this.'

Despair drove itself into his soul and he moaned from the stab. Tears and gut-wrenching sobs came without warning and with such intensity, he shook. They helped nothing and only served to make him more ashamed.

'You're pathetic, Worthington. What kind of X-man sits in the corner bawling like a child? Get angry, goddamn it! Stand up for yourself! Figure out some way to fight back!' But he couldn't resurrect the fury and the tears kept coming.

'Weak and pathetic,' he judged himself with disgust.

###

A/N: A very dark hour for our Warren. Hope has abandoned and left Warren with what?

Would be positively thrilled with feedback on this chapter. So much inner turmoil for both of our main characters, and Sukja caught in the middle as usual. Hearing your thoughts will help me determine if I got across what I intended.

Thank you in advance and see you for C15 soon.