Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will.
WARNING: Contains yaoi, rape and enslavement. Dark AU fic.
"Looks like Goku's back from St. Blaire's."Two pairs of green and blue eyes watched the ambulance slowly drive up to the front doors of the institution.
"He's trouble. Just a lot of trouble," Bill muttered darkly in reply to his friend's comment. Far below their window, the famous martial artist was taking down several of the attendants, until someone finally had the sense to sedate him.
"Like it's his fault that he got raped," Jake said with a hiss, glancing over his colleague's shoulder to see the men from the hospital carrying Goku in on a stretcher into the glass ornamental doors.
They should have brought him through to the back, those stupid St. Blaire's men, the blue eyed one thought, clearly showing his disapproval with a scowl on his face.
Someone rapped on the door to their small lounge, making the two of them tense up. The cheap wooden door opened to their small, white, cluttered room, revealing yet another white robed attendant. He was square in frame and had a tight bandage wrapped around his left hand. They knew him immediately as Mike.
He twitched nervously, his eye ticking madly, "The doc wants to see you two."
Bill and Jake nodded and got to their feet, squeezing out past the anxious attendant. In the hallway, they watched him stalk off to take care of the milder patients.
Poor Mike just hasn't been the same since his experience with the martial artist.
Bill gave a low chuckle as they started walking in the opposite direction, "Looks like he needs to spend a couple nights here, too."
"Bill, don't even joke like that," Jake grilled out icily. Both were relieving their anxiety in separate ways, Bill by being obnoxious and Jake by lashing out at anyone near him, as they made their way to Dr. Sullivan's real office. Instead of blaring white, the walls were beige and slightly more natural than the patient wings.
Bill and Jake both expected the trouble that would come from that bloody night, two days ago. Both of them knew they were the ones getting the heat, and there was nothing they could do about it, except accept it and try to hope for the best.
They came to a wooden door, its window shuttered, and a brass name tag slid into place on the door's insert with the inscription, 'Dr. Gilbert Sullivan, PhD.'
With a great deep breath, Jake's blue eyes flicked over to Bill's green ones, then he moved his hand towards the brass knob, hesitating for a moment as if it would lash out and bite him, before grabbing it and opening the door.
Dr. Sullivan was at his desk, looking over his papers. However, unlike his therapy office, this one was much more gray, several filing cabinets, padlocked and Classified lining the back wall. The office's white walls were given a slight personal touch with awards and pictures of family. But overall, the aura of the warm, friendly, neighborhood scholar was gone, and in its stead was a stern, cold military general, looking ready to chop some heads off.
Bill and Jake visibly trembled as those steely gray eyes passed over them.
"Sit," the doctor ordered and they hurried to the cheap aluminum and carpeted folding chairs in front of the steel metal desk.
Folding his hands under his chin, Dr. Sullivan slowly closed his eyes and said quietly, though the two could hear his every word, "Now, gentlemen, I believe you know why you're here. One of my patients has been assaulted and raped, by someone that the labs still have yet to identify. Meanwhile, the cameras were disabled to prevent anyone from seeing exactly who the intruder was."
His fist slammed onto the steel desk, the noise resounding loudly throughout the room, and through both the worker's minds and Dr. Sullivan stood up, his aura ablaze with passionate fury. "HOW COULD THIS HAVE POSSIBLY HAPPENED!" Jake's mouth wagged open, but neither he nor Bill were given a chance to say a thing.
Dr. Sullivan went around his desk to tower over the petrified attendants. "Do you have any idea what your unbelievable negligence has caused?"
Jake almost sighed with relief that the doctor at least didn't suspect that they had conspired with whoever attacked Goku. He would have, except those molten mercury eyes kept him firmly in his terrified state. He opened his mouth once more to try to speak, but Dr. Sullivan cut him off once again.
"Goku, who was only maybe unstable before..." the doctor said, while pacing in front of the two, "has now gone completely fucking INSANE!" Bill and Jake both jolted in their seats, as if lightning struck their aluminum seats. Dr. Sullivan didn't seem to notice.
"How am I supposed to explain this to his wife!" he demanded fervently. "Do you realize she's having a baby next month! How do I tell her, her husband has absolutely zero chance of leaving this institution before then because we let him get raped!"
Dr. Sullivan went back behind his desk and placed both hands onto the cold metal, leaning his weight forward, turning all at once from the enraged military general to the cold-hearted judge, about to pass them their death sentences. "Now tell me – because I want to know – just give me one credible reason how this could have possibly happened. Just one."
Bill and Jake lost their voices once they were given a chance to speak.
The room was silent, thick with the anger that emanated off the doctor, suffocating them, until Jake thought that he would choke if he didn't say at least a little something.
"Maybe..." He hesitated, those steel eyes boring into him. "Maybe, there really was a demon..."
Dr. Sullivan's cold gray eyes narrowed as he slowly sank back into his seat. Again he closed his eyes and folded his hands under his chin to pass judgment. "Jake... Bill... You must leave this institution immediately. I will expect you to turn in your passes by the end of the day."
"Now get the hell out of MY SIGHT!" he roared, making Bill and Jake jump out of their skins.
Without a word, they fled, leaving the doctor as quickly as possible. It was almost comical to watch them nearly trip over themselves and slam the door hurriedly as they left, but Dr. Sullivan saw nothing funny in it.
Gil rested his tired head in his hands, his gruffness gone all at once, replaced by real and true despair. "Oh God, Goku. How could I have let this happen to you?"
Up on the opposite wall, he had a large poster framed and hung up to shine in its own glory. It was from a martial arts tournament from two years ago.
The winner was holding two fingers up in the air for victory and grinning a happy-go-lucky grin, while the referee was holding his other arm up in the air, declaring him the world martial arts champion.
Son Goku had never looked better.