I liked curling up with Heero almost as much as I liked curling up with master. I felt no fear when I curled up with Heero, but I also didn't feel the fierce protectiveness master projected. There was kindness, but the bond I shared with Heero was not as strong as the bond I shared with master. It was still stronger than any I felt from a rival slave before, and I enjoyed it, but master's enveloped me while Heero's only touched me. In truth, Heero's bond with me felt more normal than master's because I had really only known them a few days, but I could feel the same kind of bind whenever master touched Heero, so I could only assume that this new master of mine was simply very attached and dedicated to his slaves. It was one of the reasons I vowed so strongly not to give master any reason to send me away.

If I could only get myself over my fear of master, I probably would have curled up with him more often, but, sick and wounded, I was still frightened that master would tire or become angry with me, so I tried to avoid contact with him, even though I craved it. My failed attempt to help him sparked hope in me that he might not be so severe if I made a mistake, as I obviously had, but it would take more for me to really believe it. Unfortunately, my failures also added to my fear that master would soon sell me, as I had still not given him a reason to keep me. Perhaps he thought it was a waste of energy to beat me, as he'd be rid of me soon anyway.

I was alone in the bed when master came to awake me for the dinner, though I am sure I went to sleep with Heero curled beside me. The dinner was something I dreaded, but I was glad to finally be able to do something for master, even if it was something as terrible as seeing Master Marcel again. Since I couldn't do anything physical for master, at least I could look pretty for him, and perhaps then he'd want to keep me. Still, I dreaded seeing Master Marcel's cruel eyes staring at me with such anger... If I thought about it too much, I could still hear the crack of the whip as it struck my flesh. It made the wounds on my back burn even more, and I tried to think about it as little as I could.

Ever gentle, master helped me get up, then hovered over me while I sat back on my ankles, worried I would fall. No one had worried about me in all my time at Collar, and soaked it up as much as I could. I couldn't bear to think of the time before Collar. The memories were bittersweet, so much that it was painful.

I had wedding soup that night, a change from the chicken soup I had been given the night before, but predicable in the sense that I had eaten nothing but soup and bread since I had arrived, because of my fever. Master worried that anything richer would make me vomit, and he didn't want to complicate my recovery. Master sat close to me as I ate, as either he or Heero always did, since they both worried I would faint and fall. I couldn't help but shy away. I wanted his attention and concern, but I was still afraid that I would do something wrong, and master would leave me. I wanted his praise, but I was too shy to earn it. I craved his touch, but I feared it. It was this set of paradoxes that put me in a limbo; constantly seeing what I wanted, but never reaching for it. More than anything I wanted affection, but I often became frightened when master gave it to me, so he no longer offered. And I was merely a slave, I had no right to ask for that which I did not earn.

"You can sleep a little longer," master told me once I had finished as he helped me to lie back down. "I'll wake you in time to get ready," he assured me as he pulled the blanket over me. I smiled contentedly and snuggled down into the pillow, warm and full. It felt like I was finally on the way to recovering, and I was starting to think that master would not get rid of me before then. I didn't let myself wonder what he had planned for me if he willing to put so much effort into me, for I was afraid of what that answer might be.

I must have slept for half an hour before master came to wake me, for I felt refreshed, but not lethargic as one does after a long sleep. I yawned, stretched as far as I could without hurting my back, and smiled. That is, until I saw the first aide box in master's hands.

"Master?" I questioned, uncertain. My bandages had already been changed for the day.

"I need to give you medicine to keep you from..."

"No!" I gasped, struggling to my knees.

"Quatre, listen," master cajoled, but I was already backing away.

"No, please!" I cried, hoping master would change his mind. "I'll behave, I promise!"

"I know you'll behave," master snapped, "that isn't what this is for!" he growled as he tried to pull me back toward him, but I dodged his outstretched hand and backed blindly toward the other side of the bed. Once there, I ran into something warm and soft and whipped my head around to see Heero standing behind me, his face grave.

"Quatre..." he called gently, and I couldn't help the tears that tracked down my face.

"Please," I begged him, "you understand, right? They could... they could do anything... anything! And I'd... I couldn't... do... anything..." I gasped out, staring into his deep blue eyes. I could tell that he understood as his eyes suddenly gained that haunted look a bad memory always bring, and I hoped for a moment that he might help me, but master was there in the next instant, his strong hands pulling me back, and my chance at escape was gone.

"Damn it, Quatre!" he growled, "No one's going to hurt you! And don't try to get Heero to save you from me when I'm not even hurting you!" master snapped, obviously upset. I glanced at Heero, who had grit his teeth and wouldn't look at me, and suddenly felt very ashamed. I had tried to use him to save myself from master, and in the process I had both angered master and reminded him of a past he most likely wanted to forget just as much as I did, and maybe more. Forgetting my previous fear in favor of my guilt, I reached out and brushed my fingertips across his arm, half afraid he would push me away. Instead, his guilty, tortured eyes raised to meet my own, and I could see the same pain, the same fear that was in my own.

We were kindred spirits, he and I. Our souls had been battered, and beaten, and bore scars that we could never erase, but we still fought on.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, hoping to convey to him the guilt I felt. Then I was silent, for any more would only sound like I was begging him not to be mad at me so that he would help me again, and any less would leave my conscience burning. He stared at me, and I lowered my head in shame, my hand remaining on his arm in a silent plea. When he said nothing, I assumed that he could not forgive me, but in a moment I felt him raise my hand to his face. I looked up as I felt him rub his cheek against my palm. Unable to voice his forgiveness, he had chosen this method instead, but I heard it all the same. I could feel the kindness of Heero's soul and, being so little the recipient of such kindness, I couldn't help but grab for more.

Heero was startled, I think, when I slipped into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him and bringing my head in his chest. It only took a moment, though, for Heero to return my embrace, and when he did I could feel the tension in his body, and in his soul. He, like me, was uncertain, set adrift by this new master, who was so wonderful that it seemed a cruel dream, and that any minute we would awaken back in the nightmarish reality that we had so long lived in. I could feel Heero shaking almost imperceptibly and remembered the scars on his back. Life had not been kind to him, but until now he had seemed at ease with master, and I wondered what had so upset him. As he clung to me almost as tightly as I clung to him, I could not find the voice to ask what had scared him so. In honesty, I did not want to.