Chapter Seventeen:
Blue was quiet the whole way back to the Tower. He sat in the car nervously, scratching the edge of the seat. He thought about what Natasha said, about Steve being his Master now. He didn't want it to be true, but. . . Blue acted like Steve was his Master. Blue protected him, Blue obeyed him, and in return, Steve fed him and helped him.
How was Blue supposed to know who was his Master and who wasn't without his old Master, the doctor, telling him who was which. The nurse told him to kill Steve, but if Steve was Blue's Master, he had to protect him at all costs.
Blue sighed, this was confusing! He wanted orders! He wanted someone to tell him what to do! Blue closed eyes, focusing. He needed to make a decision. Нe should ask Steve, would he tell Blue what to do?
Blue frowned, no. Steve might lie to him, or tell him what he wants to hear. He couldn't ask Natasha, she'd make him even more confused. Clint could help. He would tell him the truth.
Blue nodded to himself firmly, that's what he would do! He'd ask Clint for help, and Clint would help him decide how to make all this mess right!
b•l•a•u•w
Blue waited a while to ask Clint. They never seemed go be able to talk alone. Bruce and Tony asked for answers for what happened at the hospital. They wanted to know who the woman the police had detained was ― despite the fact that she hadn't spoken a word since her arrest. They wanted to see the syringe she used and feel where she injected him.
Blue didn't know the answers to half of these questions, and he surely didn't feel comfortable with anyone touching the underside of his chin. There was so much scarring from several years of abuse that the skin was sensitive and hurt when he touched it.
Bruce had tried to be kind about it at first. Blue was curled up on the medical bed, hissing and growling at Bruce angrily. "Please, Blue, let me―"
Blue bared his fangs, his teeth clenched and his hands gripping the covers of the bed. His claws cut into his palm, probably drawing blood, but Blue didn't care. He already had one check-up today, he wasn't keen on another!
"Blue―" Tony tried to reason, but Blue turned on him too. Tony took a step back, holding his hands up. Blue's body was shaking and his shoulder throbbing at this point. He wanted to go to his cage and lie down.
"Blue," Steve said gently from behind him. Blue jumped, his body trembling from the tension built up in him. "It's okay," Steve held out an innocent palm. Blue relaxed. "Bruce is trying to help you, remember?" Blue gave a shaky nod. "Well, he can't help you completely unless he sees the damage that woman caused. It'll only be a second."
Blue whined, shaking his head. He didn't want anyone else to touch it. "He's not going to hurt you," Steve assured. "He wants to help you. He's trying to help you. You have to let him see it." Blue breathed, in and out, for a minute. This was an order? It didn't sound like how his usual orders did, demanding and firm, but it wasn't a suggestion either.
Blue bowed his head in submission, and turned back to Dr. Banner. He tried desperately not to cry, his old Master would discipline him if he cried. His lip was trembling and Blue bit into it. His fangs sank into the flesh causing blood to well in his mouth. It hurt, bady, but Blue didn't spit it out.
"Okay, uh, tilt your head up for me, B," Bruce said, and Blue slowly did as he was told. He clutched the blankets as he exposed his chin and neck. Needle piercing and scratch marks were displayed clearly. Bruce gasped, shocked and even Tony shuffled forward to see the full extent of the medical abuse and the self-inflicted injuries.
Sometimes, Blue would have memories while in his cage, feeling them touching his skin and his neck, so he would claw desperately at it. It began to bleed, of course, and eventually would scar like it did. His Master decided to cuff him to the side of the cage in case he tried again. This didn't stop him from squirming and calling out at night, terror gripping him tight in his clutches.
"These are self-inflicted," Bruce muttered, bringing Blue back to reality. He reached over, his gloves fingers tracing where he had cut himself deepest. Blue bit his lips, breathing hard his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Bruce moved his hand to Blue's tender chin.
He touched it and Blue flinched, tears escaping him. He tried to look at Steve, but he couldn't see him. He could feel his Master's cold, blue hands pressing into his skin, wiping the flesh with a wipe, sticking the syringe in.
Bruce applied a small bit of pressure and Blue snapped. He jumped away, tears falling down the side of his face, and he held his chin and neck away protectively. He tried to breathe, in ― in ― out ― in ― in ― in
"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized, but Blue couldn't stop his sobbing now. He could feel them again, on his skin. He clawed at his neck, immediately drawing blood.
"No! Stop!" Steve ordered, pulling his hands away. Blue thrashed he had to get them off! He had to get them off!
Blue screamed, twisting his arms away and yanking them from Steve's grip. He began tearing at his skin again, blood trickling down from it. Steve moved behind him, pulling Blue in a headlock, but not incapacitating him. Blue whined and moved, clawing at Steve's arms, but Steve didn't budge.
His body shook with sobs, and Steve began to gently press his hand against Blue's hair, bringing it down softly. He shushed him slowly, as he continued the motion, stroking his hair and calming him down.
Blue sat in Steve's arms for several long minutes. His breathing finally going in and out. Steady and consistent. "You alright now, B?" Steve asked and Blue shakily nodded. "I'm going to let you go, I don't want you to scratch yourself, alright?"
Blue nodded again. Steve let go and Blue moved away, but he kept his bloody hands at his side. His neck wounds and quickly closed themselves up, his healing rate nothing short of efficient. Bruce approached him with an alcoholic wipe.
Before Blue could panic, Tony yanked it from him and threw it into the garbage can. "No wipes," Tony said, both to the startled Bruce and Blue. "We learned that lesson last time." Tony turned around, getting a handful of paper towels and wetting them in the sink. He handed it to Blue who tentatively took it.
Blue began to dab at his neck, flinching slightly when he touched the exposed skin, or the sensitive parts. Blue was tired and his shoulder was hurting again. He cleaned up the blood and Steve had gingerly bandaged it, exceedingly careful not to actually touch the skin.
Blue sat quietly on the bed, and Steve looked at Tony and Bruce for a few minutes, exchanging glances. Finally, Tony spoke up. "Okay, B!" He said in a false cheery voice. "You're all done for today ― despite the fact that we hardly got―" Bruce elbowed him in the ribs, cutting his sarcastic commentary short.
"Go lie down, Blue," Bruce suggested. "We're done for now."
Blue looked at Steve for confirmation, and Steve smiled, "You heard the man. C'mon, I think we both need a nap." Steve ushered him from the medical room. They passed the sitting open sitting room/kitchen where Clint sat staring on the couch, his phone in his hands and the television on.
Blue looked down immediately. Television was a people thing. Steve stopped to greet the man, who waved back, and remembered that he wanted to talk to him.
Blue made a noise to get Steve's attention. "Clint ― me?" He asked, and Steve rose an eyebrow. "Clint ― talk. Me?"
"You wanna talk to Clint?" Blue nodded, "Sure, go ahead, B. I'll be in my room." Steve left Blue and disappeared down the hall.
Blue looked shyly at Clint, who was watching him. He stepped down the few stairs and sat on the floor beside the couch.
Clint made a face, "You don't have to sit there," he patted the cushion beside him and Blue hesitated. He got up slowly and moved to sit. Clint was staring at him, "What happened here?" He asked, motioning to his own neck.
Blue frowned, "Claws ― scratch ― hurt ― check-up," he explained. Clint nodded, but he didn't look altogether certain.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" He asked, "Did you want to learn some new words?" Although the suggestion was tempting, Blue shook his head.
He took a deep breath and began to awkwardly explain. "Natasha ― talk me ― no Master ― Steve Master," he began. "Me-Me kill Steve ― orders. Steve Master ― me no kill Steve." Blue held his head, shaking it, "Hurts. C. . ." he frowned, looking for the word. "Con–Confused."
Clint frowned, moving to grab the remote and muting the television. Then, he folded his hands together, digesting his words. "Natasha told you that. . . you didn't have a Master?" Blue nodded. "'Steve Master'? Does that mean that Steve's your Master?" Blue nodded again.
"Natasha," he said, and Clint nodded.
"Natasha told you that." Blue confirmed. "What else did you say? You kill Steve? Orders?"
"Master ― orders," Blue elaborated.
"Your Master ordered you to kill Steve," it seemed to click with Clint. "If Steve's your Master, you can't hurt him, but your other Master told you to kill him?"
Blue nodded, "Old Master ― doctor."
Clint rose an eyebrow. "McAllister wasn't a. . . are you talking about the other one?" Blue nodded again. "Oh, okay. Got it." Clint scratched his sideburns, nodding. "So, you're confused. I understand."
"What ― do?"
Clint hummed, thinking for a while. Blue squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. He looked at his bloody fingers. "Blue?" He looked at the man, expectantly. "I'm going to be Frank with you, okay?" Blue didn't know what that meant, but nodded anyway. "Steve is my friend, and I like Steve. If I were you, I wouldn't kill Steve at all. But, you're saying that your Master ordered you to through the woman to tried to kill you. Blue, when someone is your Master, how so you treat them?" Blue blinked, confused. "What does a Master do?"
"Discipline," Blue said. "Order ― me. Hurt."
"Do you like your Masters?"
Blue frowned, "Me protect ― Master."
"But, do you like them? Have they been nice to you? So they treat you good? Do they help you?" Blue slowly shook his head. "Exactly. But, Steve has done this. Steve helps you, he feeds you, and he treated you well."
"Steve no Master," Blue frowned and Clint nodded.
"True, Steve isn't your Master. You can ask him if he wants to be, but he might say no. I think that Steve is your friend. That's why you help him."
"Friend?" Blue repeated, "Buck?"
Clint frowned, "You mean. . . Bucky Barnes?" Blue nodded. "He was friends with Steve. And, friends don't kill each other."
Blue thought about this for a while. "Steve ― me friend?" Blue finally said and Clint nodded, gently patting his shoulder.
"Yep. You can ask him if he'll be friends with you ― or if he'll be your Master. I think he'd like being friends better, though."
Blue nodded and then stood, satisfied with the advice, "Thank you," he said and Clint grinned.
"Anytime, kiddo," he said with a slight nod and Blue left.
He went to Steve's room ― the door was opened and Steve was on his bed, reading a book. He looked up when Blue entered. "Hey," he greeted, setting the book down. "What'd you talk about with Clint?"
Blue came over to the side of the bed so they could see eye-to-eye. "Steve," he didn't know how to ask this. Maybe just come right out and say it? "Steve be ― Master me?" Steve frowned for a second, watching him. Then, he frowned even more, realizing what he was asking.
"I. . . I don't want to be your Master, B," Steve said. "I don't think you need one. I'll watch over you, if that's what you want? I'll help you."
Blue frowned, trying Clint's other suggestion. "Steve ― friend me?" Blue asked and then added, "Like Buck?" Steve smiled, glad of the change. He raised a hand and rubbed Blue's curls.
"Yeah, B. Let's do that instead." Blue was satisfied, he had no other questions. He moved and went to the blanket laid out for him on the ground. He delicately curled up and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly.