Without Guilt

Chapter XIV: Repayment in Equal

"Hey! What are you doing over there?" The call made Dominique stiffen, her heart in her throat as she slowly turned around to glance towards the source.

One of the men on patrol was walking towards another pair in the distance who seemed to be messing about.

The relief that filled her at realising he wasn't talking to her wasn't quite enough to set her mind at ease, so she quickly went on her way.

Night had fallen, turning the already frigid temperatures to freezing, and she shivered in her dark raincoat for lack of anything thicker. She'd layered up but there was only so much she could put on without looking like a potato on legs. The thought had made her double think her pregnancy – right now the bump was just starting to form, but in another month or so, it would become more obvious.

What would she do about getting the right nutrition? How would she give birth? Where would they raise the child?

A child should have been a blessing – she still liked to think this one was, but she would be lying if fear and uncertainty hadn't kept her up nights on end, rolling over and struggling to imagine a good future.

More than that, could they even keep the child a secret inside the camp? Would they have to find a derelict countryside where the cries of a baby didn't attract every danger in the area?

Dominique reached the white stone building at the quieter end of the QZ. It was some kind of county hall in the past but had since been converted to a storehouse by the military when they'd first set up the Quarantine Zone. The building was large, looming intimidatingly over her as she crept into its shadow and quickly disappeared around its side.

She had a short window – ducking under the tarp hanging as a makeshift barrier to keep the elements out of the interior. "Fuck-!" She cursed, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth as she clutched her leg. She'd scratched it on the barbed wire she'd been meaning to step over.

Voices were heard as the front door was opened, the guards on duty switching out their shift.

She stood completely still, not daring to make a sound, but she could feel the warm trickle of blood flow under her jeans and it made her flush with the heat of adrenalin.

If anyone ever found out she was sneaking in to steal supplies…

She didn't let the thought throw her too much, resuming her path over the debris of the collapsed eastern wall to move inside. It was pitch black down here, a court room with bookcases and filing cabinets overturned and scarred with bullet holes. The floor tiles were tainted, dark and rusty with blood.

Dominique picked her way through the chaos, heading towards the door connecting this room to the rest of the building. The supplies were kept upstairs, but she had a pretty good idea of the way the building was laid out. She'd worked the storage inventory shift before.

The trick was not getting caught.

Mason exhaled with the effort to focus on his task, dropping the blood-stained clothes into a bag to be disposed of. "I don't really have any pants that'll fit ya, but I can try and find something." He admitted, doing his best to focus on anything except the man currently soaking in bathtub.

It had been a bit of a struggle to reach the first-floor apartment which Mason reserved as his own living space. He kept it relatively clean, but it had gotten a bit messy as of recent - clothes strewn about, supplies left in piling boxes. At least the bathroom was tidy if a bathroom could ever indeed be called that.

"I can go get your things from Will's place later if you want?" He offered, fidgeting as he closed the bag.

Otis was quiet, probably both out of exhaustion and the fact he couldn't currently speak.

Mason risked a glance, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. "T?" He called gently as he moved over to the doorway connecting the bedroom and bathroom.

Otis managed to open his eyes to look at him, shifting to prop his arms on the ledge of the tub before resting his head on them. He was tired, the cool bath had helped revive him a little but now the gradually warmed water was making him relaxed enough to feel sleepy. He made a short wave with his hand to assure him he would be fine, but Mason moved in regardless.

The man squatted down beside the tub, his hands taking hold of the edge to support his balance as he sighed. Maybe words weren't necessary, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze. There was a lot he wanted to say.

"I don't know… if now is the right time to say any of this, Otis…" He preambled uncertainly. "I know I've been joking 'round it a lot too, but hell… we might end up dead tomorrow." He rubbed his neck.

Otis was watching him through narrowed eyes, waiting for him to say something he couldn't rebuke him for. It was Mason's right to want to protect himself from the mess the rest of them were unwittingly tied into, but it was still difficult to swallow some of the things he'd said.

The longer the silence drew on, the more nervous Mason became. Maybe he did prefer it when Otis could talk after all.

"Well, hey, you've got quite a thing going on over there," He lightly nudged his chin to indicate the beard that had started forming. It suited him, but Mason had to find something else to focus on. "I don't really shave no more, but you're still young. Let me take care of that for ya." He'd move away promptly to retrieve the shaving gel and blade from the cabinet.

Otis made a face at the unwanted information, but it was probably better if he did take care of his appearance some. He'd push himself to get out of the tub, hands braced against the wall in an effort to maintain some semblance of balance while he reached for the bathrobe and towels stacked nearby.

Mason watched him through the steamed mirror, a silhouette of his desire, as hard to distinguish as it was to express that attraction. Otis was an intimidating man, regardless of what he might think of Mason, Mason couldn't imagine anyone asking him for affection of any sort. That being said, Mason still hadn't managed to get the story of the ring Otis wore.

"Hey, T…" He called as he slowly turned to face him, the realisation dawning on him. "You weren't wearing your ring just now, were ya?" He asked.

Otis perched himself on the ledge of the tub, feeling a bit ridiculous in the overly luxurious hotel robe that just about reached his knees. He held up his wrapped hand in response. He'd lost his ring when they'd taken his finger.

"Aw, man." Mason sighed heavily, shaking his head before dragging himself over with the shaving cream. "Think it'll still be lying 'round somewhere there? I might be able to find it…" He offered half-heartedly. He more so wanted to know its value to the man.

Otis shook his head, holding his hand up in half protest when Mason reached for his face with the shaving cream.

"Relax, I'll be gentle." Mason insisted, giving him a moment before trying again.

Otis didn't flinch this time, though he still felt awkward about the set up. His chin and cheekbone were bruised but the worse of the cuts to his face were around his temple where Carlo had hit him with the wrench. It had only needed two stitches though and he was lucky he hadn't lost an eye.

Mason thought it was a shame to go for someone's face like that, but he would keep those personal feelings to himself. "Tilt your head a bit this way." He instructed, his thumb pushing up the man's jaw as he carefully brought the razor down in a light stroke following the contours of his face.

Otis relaxed enough when Mason's hand proved nimble enough to avoid nicking him. He supposed it was an artist's hand after all. It reminded him of watching Otto with a scalpel. There was a mastery to each craft, something Otis didn't understand in too much detail when it came to art, but enough to appreciate there was skill in both.

He needed to tell Mason that Ethan Murphy didn't know anything about Dominique's pregnancy. Maybe he could convince the man to be patient a little while longer.

Pale eyes rose to look at Mason whose brow was knotted in deep concentration. How would he tell him? He'd have to wait to get the pencil and paper again. This was so impractical.

Mason paused when he was finished with one side, his gaze meeting the younger man's and he felt a strange flush in his body. It was unfair how Otis could look so scary one moment, then vulnerable like this the next. Was it alright to feel so gratified at seeing this side to him? Was it… taking advantage?

Otis didn't seem to think too much of the pause, though he did blink and that seemed to break whatever spell he'd unknowingly placed Mason under.

Mason shirked back, swallowing the growing lump in his throat as he moved to the sink to rinse the blade and collect his thoughts. "You should stay here. I can talk with Layla about the supply run tomorrow." He spoke. "I got plenty supplies, so you don't have to go out for a while."

Otis scoffed, shaking his head at Mason when he returned to him, though his eyes narrowed at him when he gripped his jaw a bit too firmly.

Mason brought the blade close again, able to keep a steady hand through sheer will alone considering the withering stare Otis was challenging him with. "Stay, Otis." He insisted, mortified at himself for the thrill he felt holding the razor so close.

It forced Otis to stay still. To listen.

"I don't really care about parts or whatever the fuck else," It empowered Mason who was usually meek. "There's plenty you can do 'round here to help out. I'll look after you. You know I would, don'cha?" The final four strokes, a perfectly clean shave.

Otis was tense. Mason wouldn't dare.

Mason loosened his hold on his jaw, but the blade remained hovering nearby. He wasn't crazy, he wasn't taking advantage, right? His lip trembled though, and he slowly withdrew. What was he doing?

Otis didn't waste time while Mason faltered though he didn't seem to trust him enough to make a quick escape. He remained calm – at least on the surface – moving around Mason to reach the sink. He'd wash his face with cold water, giving Mason some time to get his priorities straight. He didn't know what he'd been thinking. He needed to get Dominique and Kumi out of here as soon as possible.

Mason opened his mouth to speak but one look from Otis made him falter.

Otis grabbed a towel to wipe his face on the way out to the room, Mason trailing behind him awkwardly.

"T, look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it to sound like that." Mason had to grab him to stop him from marching out of the flat in nothing but a bathrobe. "I'm serious! Listen to me!" He protested when Otis struggled to try and snatch his arm back. "Listen-" A harsh shove back planted him on the bed, Mason's heavier form half pinning him.

Otis raised his arm to block Mason from getting into his breathing space, pushing against his chest as he shuffled further up the bed to get away.

"Otis! Otis, listen!" Mason got more desperate, grabbing him by the wrists.

"…rgh!" Otis growled at him, unable to move his tongue the way he wanted to form words. It burned just to attempt it, the muscle swollen and numb all at once. He turned his face away from Mason, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the stench of alcohol.

Mason had been drinking when he'd woken up on the couch, and probably would have been much deeper in his cups if Layla hadn't arrived.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" Mason screamed at him. "I'm just trying to help! Why won't you let me help you?!"

Otis struggled till he was exerted again which barely took two minutes, settling for glaring up at Mason when he finally accepted that he couldn't move him.

Mason took a moment to collect himself, watching the way Otis' chest rose and fell with each hard breath. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the effect it had on him. "Are you calm?" He risked asking, a harsh twist from Otis giving him the answer. It still didn't move Mason, but it made Mason realise something.

Otis was afraid.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Mason emphasised, easing off him just a fraction. "I care about you. I thought you'd want someone to do that… Otis, I love you, man. Don't you get it?"

Otis was stiff, staring at him blankly as though he didn't understand the words he'd just said.

Mason was frustrated enough, but to be met with no reaction was maybe worse for him than being rejected. "Why are you always like this?" He questioned, his heart sinking. "I want to do everything with you, and you just never say anything, you never let me in- you already got someone?" He questioned.

Otis tried to push him off again. It wasn't a conversation if Mason was holding him down to have it.

"Just answer me!" Mason raised his voice. "Is it Layla? She damn well wanted to kill you today!"

Otis shook his head to tell him to back off, mouthing something that Mason was too distracted to try and understand. Go to hell.

"Is it Dorothy?"

A loud knock sounded at the door.

Otis stilled, looking towards it. If Mason kept shouting-

"Is it Dominique?! Is that why you're trying to help her despite everything?!"

The door was kicked in, startling Mason. His head whipped around just in time to see Kumi walking towards him angrily.

"Where the fuck is she, Mason?!" Kumi didn't need any context for what was going on, yanking Mason by the back of his shirt like he weighed nothing.

"Get your hands off me!" Mason protested, managing to get loose. He turned to Kumi, sweat visible on his brow. He wasn't the fittest man and wrestling Otis down – injured as he was – had taken enough out of him.

Kumi sneered at him, briefly looking to Otis before glaring back at Mason. "What the fuck were you doing?" He asked, his tone quieter but laced with accusations.

Mason flustered, only now just realising how it must have looked. He could do nothing but hold his hands up in protest as Kumi grabbed him by the throat, pinning him to the wall. "I swear- it's not like that, I was just trying to talk-" He croaked, grabbing at the hand choking him.

"You fucking come near him or any of us again, I'll fucking feed you to the Infected myself. You fucking hear me?!" He yelled into his ear to make sure he got the message.

Mason nodded, shuddering from the desperation to breathe and the fear that took hold of his core.

Kumi wasted no more time, grabbing Otis by the arm and marching out of the room. Not without throwing a look of disgust at Mason first. "You're fucking pathetic." He berated Otis, his words a contrast to his lingering hold on his arm.

Otis stumbled a little, unable to quite keep up with Kumi's larger and more energised strides. His attempt to snatch his arm away made Kumi stop short in the stairwell.

Kumi exhaled a breath, turning to face the older man slowly and just cupping his face as he leaned in to press his forehead to his. "I stopped you from becoming that pig's cock sleeve, aren't you grateful?" He scoffed.

Otis was a little taken aback by the affectionate gesture, though it wasn't an unfamiliar one. He exhaled a short breath.

"That's my debt repaid, right?" Kumi asked hopefully.

Otis gave a short nod, his gaze lowered. Too much was happening all at once, but he gave Kumi a light nudge to the shoulder with his good hand.

"Good. Keep your head on, I need your brain right now." Kumi managed a small grin before releasing him. He'd let him walk on his own. "Let's get you dressed."

Please R&R!