Rosenkreuz… sweet Rosenkreuz
Chapter 21: Pieces
He was grateful that classes were in session, there was no one to see him struggling to get back to their quarters. His legs just didn't want to obey him. His mind… well, he just didn't want to think right now. Cause if he took the time to think, he would never get back. Being found in the hallway in this condition would not be good. Being in this condition period wasn't good. After what seemed like an eternity, he made it back to the corridor which housed their rooms. What was normally a short walk, had somehow turned in to a marathon. He swore some bastard had stuck a few MILES worth of hallway in that hadn't been there before. Fumbling with the door, he fell into the room. Without bothering to rise, he kicked the portal shut.
And collapsed.
There was no one here to see him, so he didn't bother trying to get up. He hurt. He hurt in places he didn't think it was possible to hurt. He swore even the roots of his hair ached. Then again, maybe they did. He hardly put hair pulling past that sadist. And the headache… that was nearly enough to make him want to kill himself. He lay for a long time, just inside the door, sprawled out on the carpet.
Finally in time, the pain overrode his desire to not move. Unable to fully rise, Bren crawled to the bathroom. Whimpering, he pulled himself up to sit on the toilet. Even that hurt. One shaky arm reached for the medicine cabinet and the various painkillers there. He hesitated… then reached for the small bottle containing something considerably stronger than aspirin. He fought with the cap, it was the type that was supposed to be childproof, but only a child could open. When it popped off suddenly, he fumbled for a single pill. They were deceptively small, thankfully so, he downed it dry. He set the top on but didn't secure it; he would no doubt be in need of more later.
With trembling fingers he started to remove his soiled clothing. He let the garments fall to the floor one by one. He never wanted to see them again; if he had a choice in the matter he would torch them all. Once he was naked, he slid off the toilet to crawl over to the shower. He turned it on flinching a bit at the chill; it took a long time for their hot water to kick in. Gradually the needles of water warmed. Bren didn't try to stand, just sat and let the spray beat down on him. He bowed his head, water trickling through his thick hair and down his face.
He felt used.
As agreed, he had let Schultz do whatever he wanted, payment for the man's silence… and Nagi's continued innocence. He had been humiliated, beaten, restrained… throughout it all he had filled his mind with contempt for the man, letting that be what the sadist found. Even when the good instructor had moved on to raping his mind as well as his body. He wouldn't let the man sense any fear, only hatred and anger. Fear was what Schultz wanted, fear and pain. Pain he couldn't do anything about, but fear… that he could control, covering it was other emotions, burying it deep enough that it couldn't be found amidst everything else.
Pain was still very evident. Staring down at the water swirling around the drain, he wasn't surprised to see that it was pink with blood. He was sure he was bleeding from any number of places. There would most likely be a few more scars to add to his collection. His back felt it was on fire, he didn't want to think about the damage down below.
Eventually he couldn't stand the feeling of his skin being scalded and longer and shut off the water. If he pulled himself up against the door to the shower and held onto it, he could just barely stand. He snatched a towel off the rack and leaning against the wall, dried off as best he could. He shakily wrapped another towel around his waist and took another of the small pain pills. Leaving the clothes and wet towel to be taken care of later… he tried to walk to his room and the bed waiting for him. Bren managed about four steps before his legs just buckled. He lay there for a few minutes half on the carpet, half on the chilly bathroom tiles. Wincing at the pain… he crawled across their apartment.
The room was painfully neat, as it had always been since the kid had arrived. Grunting with the effort, he pulled himself up on the small bed. Sprawling across the blanket, he let himself collapse. He was too tired to struggle with getting under the sheets, besides… his back was in agony. This would be good enough…
The world went black.
**
He awoke to pain. Pain and an insistent shaking of his shoulder. He blinked a few times, and realized that his shoulder was shaking because of a small hand shaking it. Without moving, his eyes followed the arm attached to that hand up to a pale face with huge midnight-blue eyes and crowned with baby fine chocolate-brown hair. He realized that the boy's face was practically white and there was panic in those eyes. He blinked again and then forced himself to talk. "I'm awake."
The boy started to babble in rapid Japanese, his voice carrying a distinctly hysterical edge to it.
"Wait… I can't…" He struggled to push himself up and had to let his body fall back down with a groan. That seemed to spur something in the boy. He stopped and just stared at the redhead for a moment. Bren couldn't bring himself to 'read' the kid, everything still hurt too much. The boy seemed to make some kind of decision, as he disappeared from Bren's line of sight.
It might have been two minutes or twenty before the kid returned. The telepath couldn't be sure. When the boy reappeared beside the bed, he was carrying a bowl and had a couple clothes draped across the arm that still in a sling. He climbed up on the bed beside the redhead and dipping the cloth into the bowl, started to carefully clean the lash marks. Bren winced and bit his lip to keep from crying out. The flesh was tender, probably bruised around the split skin. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, feeling each spike of pain as the boy painstakingly washed the torn flesh. He came back from his pain induced haze as a cool hand gently spread a something over the raw flesh that tingled a bit before the agony faded to numbness.
He was able to roll on to his side as Nagi slipped from the bed and knelt beside him on the floor, the boy's face level with his own. "Schuldich?"
"I'll be okay, kid."
"What.. happen?"
"I got in trouble." The boy frowned, obviously not really making the connection between Bren's 'trouble' and what had happened to him. For which the redhead was grateful. If the kid knew this was indirectly because of him…
"I… I was… scare."
Bren slipped into the boy's thoughts. The kid had returned and walking into the bathroom, had found his the clothes and blood-stained towel on the floor. In a panic, he had run into the bedroom. Bren had to wince a bit at the sight of himself, back bruised and bloody, laying there as if dead. In fact, that had been the boy's first thought.
"I'm sorry. I should have taken care of the clothes."
"No... you... hurt." The boy's German was haltingly slow; he was having trouble finding the words in his concerned state. "Do you… want?"
"Some water, and a blanket." He had to give the kid things to do, to take his mind off his fear.
"Okay."
**
He already knew what he'd find when he got back. He had seen Schuldich's back and the lash marks before the redhead had even gone out to enact his vengeance. What confused him was why the telepath hadn't been confined in addition to being whipped. Usually for something like this, if they weren't killed outright, the punishment was a public flogging, before dinner of course, in the dining hall and then confinement.
He had warned the German. Unfortunately he had then been called away to check out a report of another possible psi. He really wished the ones who reported these rumors would verify facts before calling them in. Another wild goose chase. And he didn't like having to go back to America. He held no love for the country of his birth and no desire to return. At least his LAST trip had brought in someone with potential. People might be prejudiced against the Rom, but they did produce an amazing number of psis. And the trip before that had produced young Naoe, so he guessed his track record wasn't too bad. When someone bothered to check the rumors first. He sighed and headed down the hall toward their quarters.
What's done is done. At least he was back and could assess the damage. He entered and noticed the place was unusually quiet. He hung up his coat and took his bag into his room. Coming back out, he caught sight of Nagi, standing on a chair, stirring something in a pot on the stove. He almost smiled. It was kind of cute; the boy was too small to be able to see into the tall pot without the chair. Then he frowned, seeing that the kid's arm was still in that sling. The doctor had said it would have to be supported for a couple weeks, it should be okay soon. He walked over. "Tadaima."
Nagi spun, surprised. Brad frowned again, he should have been aware of his presence… they would have to work on that. The boy blinked before answering. "Okaeri."
The American walked over and peered into the pot. It appeared to be some type of soup. "You know, we have smaller pans." He switched back to English; it was good practice for the boy.
"I couldn't reach them." His voice was surprisingly soft. Brad wasn't sure if it was just his nature or shyness in trying to speak a language he wasn't totally comfortable with yet.
"Ah. Sorry, we'll do something about that." He had forgotten. Since they didn't cook all that often, he had put most of the pans up over the stove, in a cabinet the boy couldn't possibly reach, unless he stood on the counter, something that probably hadn't occurred to him. "Why are you cooking anyways? Isn't that Schuldich's job?" The boy looked worried, his eyes darting toward the bedroom he shared with the redhead. "What is it?"
"He's… he's hurt." Nagi was biting his lip nervously.
It was only about ten steps to the door. Ten steps and he stood in the open portal. The young man was lying, curled up on his side; his face was pale with the exception of two bright spots of color high up on his cheeks. Brad found himself beside the bed without remembering how he crossed the room. He knelt on the cushion, no doubt brought in by Nagi and peered at the redhead's face. It was at times like this, when the normally cynical German was asleep, his face relaxed; that one could see how young he really was. Schuldich acted and seemed years older than he really was. But now… Crawford could see a bit of the boy Bren had been once.
He felt a small body kneel next to him and looked over into a pair of midnight blue eyes. "What happened?"
Nagi frowned. "You left. A knock… letter…" He sighed, then switched to Japanese, knowing that at a time like this Crawford wouldn't scold him. "He read the letter and told me to go to bed if he didn't come back by ten. He still wasn't back by the time I had classes in the morning. When I got back that afternoon, he was here, but hurt. I cleaned the cuts on his back. But then he got sick."
Brad walked around to the other side of the bed and carefully eased the sheet down. Nagi had obviously done the best he could to bandage the ragged tears. He glanced at the boy, who was looking at him with apprehension. "You did a good job. I assume he wouldn't let you take him to the infirmary or call a doctor?"
"No."
"Typical. I'll see if I can get some antibiotics. Why don't you go check that soup?"
"Okay."
He shook his head as the boy left. Something had obviously happened, something serious, beyond the whip marks. But he doubted the redhead would be forthcoming with information. He still saw the German graduating… but what kind of shape would he be in by the time he got there. He sat down on the edge of the bed. And would he be able to keep them all in one piece?
**
TBC