Part 10
Jothee was exhausted. And confused. The man who resembled his father was urging him to get up but Jothee didn't know if he could trust him. Hadn't his father killed his mother or was it his commanding officer or the peacekeepers? Wasn't his father dead by Kyff's torturing knife or was that what was going to happen? But what about the man who he remembered as his father, the one who loved him and played him music - was he dead and tortured, too? Must be because every creature Jothee had ever met was dead because of him. It was his fault. If he hadn't been alive or born, none of them would have died.
Searing pain shot through Jothee's hearts and mind as he relived his shame. He clenched his eyes shut to try stop the white hot burning that threatened to overwhelm him. Flashes of the bloody holovids ran through his head taunting him. "This is what you did!" his conscious screamed. "You almost a man grown, a warrior!, let this happen! IT IS YOUR FAULT!"
"What's wrong?! What's going on?" an anxious, panicky voice demanded. A hand touched his shoulder and Jothee jerked away and grabbed a handful of cloth from somewhere. Then he noticed that strong arms held his thrashing body and he tried to get away. It was Kyff and Kyff meant more pictures, more drugs to make him see, more words that made him want to die for what he'd done.
"Jothee!" a different voice called. "I don't know what's wrong. Jothee! Come back to us; you're safe."
And then he remembered the noise of the fight, the door, the creature that wasn't sebacean or anything he'd seen before. He remembered feeling safe when the creature came in and broke his chains even with a sebacean face. Safe, he thought before sinking into exhausted oblivion.
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"He's out," Angel told D'argo who was hovering over him and the boy in his arms.
"Do you know what happened?" asked the Luxan, his fear evident in his voice. He tentatively reached out to touch Jothee, but stopped his hand just shy of his son's shoulder.
Angel shook his head as he tried one handedly to pry Jothee's fingers off his shirt without ripping it, but the boy held on. "I don't know," he sighed. "Might have been the drug, we'll figure it out later. Uh...since he's attached..." Angel looked uncomfortably up at D'argo who only nodded sadly and turned to the door.
With Angel carrying the frail youth and D'argo leading the way, the three of them managed to sneak out of a side door to the grounds leaving only two dead guys in their wake. In the bailey, six guards, each properly armed and dangerous surrounded Aeryn's Prowler. D'argo glanced at his unconscious son in Angel's arms then back at the Prowler, before leading the way through the shadows to the stone wall. Within minutes they were on the other side via a lightly manned door with a weak lock. The distance to the main gate was open but luckily it seemed that all the roamers had been pulled to search the house for its flamboyant visitors.
Angel and D'argo were about to start their mad dash across, when Wesley suddenly drove up to the front gate in his boss's car. Before the man in the guardhouse could blink, Chiana had jumped from the backseat to the top of the fence. The guard had just stepped out with his gun when the nimble thief jumped on top of him and knocked him out. A few moments, later the gate was open and Wesley was speeding to meet them. Unfortunately, this attracted the attention of the watchers on the wall. Amid the shouting voices, Angel with Jothee, and D'argo scrambled into the convertable. By the time they passed through the gate, a loaded SUV was on their tail.
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Meanwhile, John and Aeryn were running down a back staircase as silently as possible. They were getting low on cartrigages for their pulse pistols and they didn't want to waste any on stray bad guys.
"D'argo said six?" John queried as he and Aeryn approached the large, potholed front door.
Aeryn nodded and took a closer look through one of the holes, careful to stay in the shadows. "Sniper shots should do it," she said watching the men outside. "Think you can handle the two on the left?" she asked moving aside so he could see. John grinned at her and found another hole to shoot through.
"Just like shooting womprats back home," he said lightly, enjoying the irritated look Aeryn gave him.
Soon, four of the six men outside were down and the last two were firing back. Two minutes and two bodies later, the two snipers were in the Prowler, taking off for outer space.
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The six people in Angel's car barely made it to the dump alive. And the gunfire from the following car was not the problem. The insane, suicidal, and manic driving used in an effort to lose the guns behind them was what kept getting them almost killed every time they rounded a corner. Cordelia was just grateful that Angel's reflexes could handle it. And that she couldn't see what they were nearly missing from her place on the floor with the others.
"Come on!" Angel shouted as the car stopped all of a sudden, once more bruising its low-lying passengers. "They're right behind us!" Everyone picked themselves up as fast as they could and jumped out. Cordelia could hear the SUV crashing through the dump as she followed Chiana to the big, tan thing and went through a door that suddenly opened in its side.
Inside, Cordelia slumped against the wall next to Wesley and vacantly watched D'argo and Chiana rush around the front of the room a minute before sitting down in the front two and only seats. Nearby Angel held the unconscious and sickly Luxan they had rescued. Only when the wall started to vibrate did it register in Cordelia's brain that they were not in a stationary building.
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Zhaan waited anxiously with John, Aeryn, and Rygel while the transport pod finally docked. As soon as it had touched the deck, the door opened and D'argo rushed to her carrying a young Luxan in his arms. Zhaan's soul went out to the boy who had been badly mistreated. His clothes were mere rags and he was grossly underweight. Touching his head, the priestess could feel the pain and suffering just under the delicate shield of unconsciousness.
"Wow. Big," Zhaan heard someone say. Glancing up, she saw three humans standing next to a strangely dressed Chiana. They were gazing about the docking bay with wonder on their faces. "I can't believe it," a one of the males said in almost a PK accent. "Uh...hello," he said when he caught sight of Rygel and Zhaan. The blue priestess nodded in response, amused at the female's gaping, the male-who'd-spoken's wide eyes, and the other males surprise.
As Zhaan turned back to Jothee, she heard Rygel begin his Speech. Ignoring him, Zhaan led the way, silently and quickly, to the apothecary. Once there, D'argo laid Jothee on the sick table and stepped back to let his friend work. Wearing her clear, protective robe, Zhaan gently examined the young Luxan for external injuries and signs of torture.
"Angel thinks they gave him a drug to keep him awake," D'argo said helpfully when she started to draw blood. "When we found him he was first overjoyed, then scared. He thought we were going to hurt him and tried to get away."
"Other than the bruises around his wrists and ankles and the malnutrition, they didn't physically beat him," Zhaan told him as she put the blood sample in a testing machine.
"Then what happened?" D'argo almost shouted, the worry and fear fueling his anger.
Zhaan looked sadly over at her friend. He had searched so long for his son only to find him hurt and untrusting. It was a terrible, painful blow and one that Zhaan was unable to heal. "The only answer is mental torture. That would explain the stimulant. I shall speak with him when he wakes and then we will know more." The blood scanner finished its analysis and Zhaan turned away to read the results. Much to her dismay, the priestess and healer-by-default could hear D'argo pacing behind her. "D'argo," she said gently. The worried warrior stopped and searched her face for any new developments in the last micron. "When was the last time you slept?" she asked.
D'argo shook his head in frustration before answering. "I don't know. Yesterday."
"Then go to quarters and sleep, sweet D'argo," Zhaan told him. He looked like he was about to protest, then figured it would do him no good, which it wouldn't, and left.
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"Oh God!" whispered Cordelia as Aeryn and John led them onto the Terrace. Wesley couldn't form a coherent thought, much less words, at the sight of all the stars and no wall to hold them back. It was simply breathtaking.
Wesley came to a stop next to Angel; Cordelia on the vampire's other side. They stood a little closer than they would have under normal circumstances, humbled by the immensity of the universe. The stars went on forever, in every direction. They sparkled like glitter on a black cloth, a tapestry of struggling light so beautiful it is beyond all comprehension. How insignificant they were in the face of eternity, thought Wesley.
Then he saw the Earth. The mostly harmless, blue orb, with clouds swirling over the surface like white cotton candy. His planet, his world that he fought to protect, seemed so peaceful, so fragile in the black depths. Too often man forgot that they were part of something bigger, something profound that rose above all else.
"Well, Angel," Cordelia said softly after a long while, "you've been to Hell and now you can say you've seen a piece of Heaven, too."
A smile slowly spread across Angel's face. "And you can say you've been among more stars than anyone can count," he replied fondly, taking her hand.
"Foreshadows for you both," Wesley whispered. A moment later, he felt Angel's cool fingers grasp his own, linking the three of them in the moment. They didn't notice when their guides left, smiling, hand in hand. They simply stood in silent communion, watching eternity.
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Jothee woke in a strange place. Golden walls, vials with colored liquids, jars of herbs, and a Delvian woman sitting nearby. He was cold and sore with a headache that could knock out a giant Hibbcat. Then the memories returned but not with the brutalizing force as before.
"Hello, Jothee," the Delvian said standing up. "How are you feeling?" She placed her hand on his forehead. Jothee tried to shy away but found he didn't have the strength. So weak, he thought in anguish. So weak he'd killed everyone he'd known. Tears slid out of his eyes as he remembered how he'd failed.
"My fault," he murmured. "Dead because of me." His confession rang in his ears, slamming the guilt and shame into his hearts with ripping force. The Delvian's hands were on his head again and then he felt a presence in his mind. He ran away, his mental image sprinting away from the presence and the horrors he'd seen to the dark waterfall of shame and the safety he'd felt with the strange sebacean. Then just as suddenly as it had come, the presence left, and he was alone again.
Vaguely, he heard the Delvian call someone, and a few minutes later two more voices were speaking with her. "Jothee," one of them called and he recognized it as his rescuer. Opening his eyes, he saw the changeable sebacean sitting on the edge of his bed. Another sebacean man was beside the Delvian and if it hadn't been for the remnants of his Luxan pride, Jothee would have screamed. As he looked fearfully from one to another, he realized something about the three beings. In their eyes, he saw that they *knew*. Another wave of guilt washed through him and he tried to stem the flow of tears from his eyes.
"Jothee," his rescuer said again soothingly. "What happened in that room?" he asked gently. Jothee couldn't, it hurt too much. "No one's going to hurt you. The man who kidnapped you is dead. Forever. The only way to kill him in your mind is to confront him and fight him in your mind."
"I can't. I'm too weak," Jothee rasped, feeling utterly worthless.
"I'll help if you let me," his rescuer said. "But I have to know what happened. You are strong enough to tell me what happened." And for some reason, Jothee believed him, at least a little.
So bit by bit, with lots of prompting, he told what went on during his captivity. By the time he'd finished he was exhausted yet relieved in a small way. No one had said anything, no condemnation, no loathing, just acceptance and for some reason that was important. As sleep claimed him, he heard someone say softly, "He'll heal."
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