I arrived at the room only a few minutes after the other two had arrived. I found them seated on the couch. Or, actually, Heero was seated on the couch, and the blonde slave was draped across his lap. Heero had laid a towel over the boy's back, but, other than that, seemed at a loss for what to do.
"How's he doing?" I asked as I crossed the room, startling the blonde, who gasped and shied into Heero's embrace.
"I... don't know. He needs stitches, I think. His name is Quatre," Heero told me. The boy, Quatre, gave him a hurt glare, as though his name was a secret.
"I could have found out from you papers," I told him. Quatre looked at me, frightened, then dissolved into tears once again. "What happened?" I asked, surprised by his sudden outburst.
"He's been doing that since we got here. I think it's because of his back," Heero told me softly, looking at the boy in his arms with concern and pity.
"I'll have to take a look," I said, "Lay him down flat on the couch for me, would you? Then run and get some more towels," I ordered. Heero was quick to obey, cautiously slipping out from under the lighter boy. The movement jarred Quatre, and he cried out a bit, but was otherwise silent except for the small sobs as he cried.
"How do you feel?" I asked as Heero went for the towels. The boy would only shake his head, never looking at me. I took his chin in my hand and forced his head up, looking into his eyes. "I know you're hurting, but you have to work with me. I'm trying to help you. Now, I know your back hurts, and I know what's wrong with it, so I'll leave that alone for right now. Does anything else hurt?"
"M-my ankle," Quatre said, once again letting his eyes lower away from mine, "and my nose. But... my back..." he dissolved into tears again, "... it hurts so bad!" he cried, tears beginning to flow more rapidly.
"Shh," I cooed. "I know. Just hold on a little longer, alright?"
By this time, Heero had returned with the towels. I could see that Quatre had given himself a nasty bruise on his nose and probably a black eye, but he hadn't broken anything on his face, so there was nothing I could do for it. Instead, I worked my way down to his ankle, which was swollen and looked sprained, but wasn't bad enough to be broken. I sent Heero for some ice, placing a pack on Quatre's ankle and one on his face when Heero returned. Then I asked Heero to hold Quatre's hands while I peeled away the towel.
I had known the boy was going to scream. He was in too much pain not to, and I wasn't going to aggravate the cuts on his lips by gagging him or some such nonsense. I think, though, that he thought I would, because after the initial scream he bit down hard on his bottom lip to quiet himself.
"Stop that," I snapped, "I have enough holes in your skin that I need to fix without you adding more. Scream if you need to, I don't care."
After that, he screamed, and clung to Heero's hands, and shook his head, and kicked his feet, but remained where I needed him to be as I peeled the towel from his bleeding skin. The wounds underneath were bleeding sluggishly, his skin bright red from blood and aggravated by the sand in his wounds. It would be difficult to clean this mess and patch it up. There were three main wounds, all about eight inches long. One went diagonally from his left shoulder to his right side. Another went from his right side up to the middle of his back. The third went from his left shoulder slightly downward to his right shoulder. There was a hodgepodge of other cuts, welts, and bruises, but nothing more serious than some heavy bruising. These were the only three that would need stitches, but they were enough. I also had to contend with the sand, which meant that I would have to bathe the boy before I could even begin to clean the cuts.
"Heero, I want you to run to the pharmacy. You know where that is, right? Take my card and buy bandages, gauze, tape, antiseptic, needles, thread, and any kind of pain pills you can find. See if they have some mild antibiotics that won't react to the painkillers. Mild tranquilizers, too, but get the strongest painkillers they have. See if they have any scar-prevention creams. And rubber gloves, I'll need a set of those," I told him, thinking out loud of what I'd need. "Put everything on my card, don't worry about the cost. Well? Get going!" I snapped, and he darted to get my card then out the door.
I turned back to Quatre to find him staring a the door like a puppy who'd been left behind for the first time. There was such longing in his eyes that I wondered how the two had bonded so quickly, then his eyes turned on me, and there was such a flash of panic that I understood the situation. He had hoped Heero would protect him from me, or, at least, that I would be gentler with him around the other slave. He was afraid of me and, from his last master, I could understand why.
"Can you stand?" I asked softly, brushing the hair from his eyes. He felt warm, and I hoped he hadn't gotten a fever already.
"I think so, master," he said, barely above a whisper, then attempted to get up. I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Lie still for now," I told him, "I'll need you to get up in a little, but there's no use jumping the gun. Rest a moment, there's something I have to attend to. If you need me, I'll just be in the other room," I told him. He nodded, but I doubted he'd let himself call for me. I gave his head one last pat, then stood and walked to the bathroom.
More than anything, I wanted to give the boy a moment to collect himself and orient himself to this quickly changing situation. Now that Heero was gone, he was alone with me, a man he feared greatly. I could only hope his fear would keep him docile and allow me to work without causing him too much stress.
In the bathroom, I quickly turned the faucet to a cool temperature and ran a few inches of water, just enough to cool the boy down. I then ran a little of the water through the detachable shower head, so that the water would not be cold when it came out. Then there was nothing left to do but return and hope the boy had calmed.
My hopes were in vain. I returned to find Quatre sobbing harshly into the pillow, his slim shoulders shaking at the force of his pain. I approached the boy quietly and ran my hand along his side to alert him of my presence. Quatre jerked in surprise, whipping his head around to see me.
"Come now, it's time for you to get up," I instructed. Quatre nodded mutely and forced his skinny arms to push his torso off the couch, then brought his knees under him. He cried out in pain as the movement caused the skin of his back to stretch, but continued his progress. When he was on his knees, I was able to take a hold of his arms and lift him to his feet.
Quatre swayed, dizzy from fatigue and blood loss, but managed to stay on his feet with my support. I led him to the bathroom, going slowly as each step seemed painful for him. Once there I unbuckled his harness, which I had left on before, and let it drop to the floor. Quatre stared at his feet, his face going bright red as he bit his lip in nervousness.
"I need you to get in the tub," I told him. He did so, hesitantly, clinging to me for support as his body trembled, weak and tired. Once in he fell to his knees, then leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands. His arms shook as they held him, then gave out a minute later. With a startled cry he began to fall forward, but I was quick to catch him. I let him down slowly, murmuring that he should extend his legs as well. He lay bonelessly when I was finished, too tired to protest as I turned the water on and began to wash the sand away using the hose.
I was relieved to find that the sand came out of his wounds fairly easily, as the blood washed much of it out as the water made the cuts bleed anew. I was also sure to wash the sand out of his hair and face, but I couldn't use soap because it would sting his cuts. He would need a proper bath at some point, but he couldn't get one until he'd healed a bit.
I allowed the water to drain away, still washing sand off Quatre's body so that none of it would stay to bother his skin. The boy seemed almost asleep, but the crease in his forehead told me he was still awake. It might have been better had he gone to sleep, for I had to touch him to brush the sand off, and he tensed when I rubbed his rear or his groin, even though I was helping him.
I finished quickly and pulled him back to his knees. He seemed less shaky now that he had cooled off some and I was able to pat him dry without him falling. From there, I pulled him back to his feet and we hobbled out of the room again.
I know Quatre would have liked nothing better than to return to the couch, but, sadly, I couldn't let him do that. I knew he would be difficult to move when I got him settled again and I needed to put him somewhere with good light and a flat surface, so that I could work on his back. Unfortunately, the only place that met those standards was the kitchen table.
Quatre was docile as I led him out of the bathroom, but baulked when I led him to the kitchen instead of the livingroom.
"Master..." he whispered in protest as I turned him, his eyes looking longingly at the couch. He stared gloomily at the kitchen as we approached, a new set of tears falling down his face. We stopped in front of the table, which was made of metal and looked more like a surgical bench than I originally realized. Still, it was strong enough to support the light boy, and that was all that really mattered.
"Up," I commanded softly. Quatre stared at me, shocked and appalled as he began to shake.
"Master... I can't," he whispered.
"Yes, you can," I told him. "Don't be afraid, just do it."
He nodded, though I could tell that he didn't want to, and stepped up on the chair I had pulled out. Moving like he was a hundred time his age, he slowly got himself onto the table and lay down. Once he was completely seated, he buried his face in his arms and began to cry again.
I left him on the table alone as I went to fetch him a blanket and a pillow. I didn't want to humiliate him, or make him uncomfortable, or even cold, but I knew that he wouldn't hear any of the explanations I gave right then, so I kept my silence as I covered him up. He was grateful for the blanket and surprised by my actions, but there was still a lingering mistrust in his mind that I doubted I would put aside any time soon.