It was strange, like waking up from a nightmare, but a nightmare that you knew was a dream, and that wasn't all that bad. Emotions of pain, fear, and anger were present, but so was this numbness that I couldn't explain, and brief periods of happiness. Events were foggy, but the emotions I had experienced were very clear. So... what was going on?

I awoke from my slumber slowly, dragging myself up inch by inch from the murky depths of sleep. I was careful, too, as I woke, checking each level for safety before continuing to the next. It was strange to say that I felt safer than I could ever remember feeling while in slavery. It was warm, too, and... confined? Restricted? But it was a good feeling, the feeling of being... held?

It was with a sudden clarity that I realized not only was I awake, but I was being held in the arms of someone much larger than I was. I turned my head just enough to see a small spill of blonde hair. The master! What had gone on? What had he done? I searched my memories, but could only come up with foggy recollections. Could it possibly be so bad that I repressed it?

I forced myself to take three deep breaths, bringing myself away from the edge of panic. I had to think logically, and not lose my head. If I could not remember what happened, I might be able to find clues to prove it. Firstly, I was dressed, but I was not dressed in my own clothes. I felt groggy, but not hung-over. I was not in the bedroom, but I was on the couch, which forced me to lie on top of Zechs to stay on the couch. My ass didn't hurt...

I moved, and a searing pain shot through my thighs. Nataku, he did! I was completely still for a moment, the shock of what must have happened last night causing a paralysis in my body, but not my brain. The next minute, I began to wiggle out of Zechs' arms. I had to get away, before he woke and wanted to go again. It was a gift that I could not remember the first time, but I was not dumb enough to allow him another while my body attempted to heal. And I did not put him above such actions, I doubted he'd restrain himself for something as meager as human life.

As I struggled to get out of his hold, one of my movements must have alerted him to my state, as one of his hands closed over my elbow. His eyes opened partially, blearily, and turned toward me.

"Damnit, Fei, 'm not takin' ye to the bathroom 'gain. Ye can't poss'bly have ta go again alre-..." he trailed off, opening his eyes wider as he suddenly saw me. "Wufei? He asked, in a much more reasonable and awake voice, "You really up this time? I was getting worried."

I ripped myself from his grasp, flinging myself across the room only to land on the carpet and turn on him, teeth bared and growling.

"You monster! What did you d-...!"

"Wufei, stop..."

"How can you do that to someone, in their sleep of all times!"

"Wufei, listen!"

"I won't be defiled again-...!"

"Wufe, bend over!" he snapped.

"W-what?"

"Bend over, right now. I command it," he told me, his face red with rage. What could I do but obey? My honor demanded that I obey his commands, even if they were despicable and perverted.

I turned toward him, bowing low at the waist. I would not present myself to him, like a common whore. If he wanted my ass, he would have to walk around me to get it.

"What do you feel?" he growled.

"Huh?"

"Where does it hurt? How does it feel?"

"It hurts, damnit! My thighs...! My... thighs..." I repeated, suddenly realizing that the blinding pain I had felt since bending over did not come from my ass, but my thighs. My left thigh, specifically. What the hell?"

"What? Oh shit!" Zechs cursed suddenly, jumping up and pushing me to lie face-down on the couch. If I hadn't been so confused I would have fought him, but at the time I was still too busy trying to figure out what had happened. "Damn!" he cursed, lifting up the side of my boxers and examining what appeared to be the source of my pain. "You pulled it, but none of the butterfly stitches came off. Don't do that again. If I ask you to... just smack me or something. I wasn't even thinking about it," he said, flopping down bonelessly on the other side of the couch. I dared to sit up, and managed just a peek at the corner of a deep cut in my thigh. It was tightly closed with butterfly stitches, a few drops of blood seeping through the cracks in the quickly scabbing wound.

"I... don't understand..." I trailed, looking to Zechs for an answer. Had he... cut me? But what purpose would that serve? And why would he have tended it, if he gave it to me himself?

Zechs sighed, rubbing his forehead as he frowned. "What do you remember of last night? Do you remember being attacked?" he asked me.

I concentrated hard and managed to bring up the image of a dark shadow looming over me. It was like a nightmare. He had held a knife over me, smiling wickedly. I had lashed out, but my body had been too weak to fight him. He had... stabbed me? Yes, I could remember that. He had stabbed me, then said something about... skinning me alive. But... after that? It was so fuzzy. There had been yelling, and a sudden burst of light, and Zechs had been there, and Heero, and Trowa, and even Quatre. Zechs had... he had rushed the shadow. Had attacked a man with a knife to save the life of a mere slave.

"Someone attacked me. Did you... Did you save me?" I wondered. Zechs seemed surprised by this question, and briefly appraised me before answering.

"An unknown assailant snuck into your room last night and attacked you while you were asleep. He drugged you, to keep you from attacking, but despite this I believe you managed to engage him, receiving the wound on your leg. Once I heard the commotion, I came to check on you and engaged the attacker to keep him from harming you further. Heero and I managed to subdue him, but he killed himself before we could question him about his motives. You were too drugged to be coherent, and were irrationally afraid of the bedroom, so I stood guard here and kept watch over your condition. I think the drugs are out of your system now."

Zechs' statement had managed create almost as many questions as it had solved. Why would he have risked his life to save mine? Why had he stood guard, instead of his slaves? And why in the world was a part of nobility speaking in police lingo?

I heard the patter of bare feet then, and looked to the bedroom to find that Heero had awakened. He looked somewhat groggy as he shuffled to the kitchen, but I was beginning to notice how little Heero's stoic face changed in expression, so it was hard to tell if he was really groggy or not. Remembering the events of the past night, however, I found it easier to assume he was groggy than anything else.

Which led me to look at Zechs, who was more dead than groggy. There were deep bags under his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot as well.

"You stayed with me all night?" I asked.

"Hm. You seemed alright, but we couldn't really trust you on your own. Too many things around here you could have hurt yourself with."

"So... why you? Why not the slaves?"

"Because I'm the master. Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and even you are all my responsibility. As such, it was my job to guard the apartment and watch you. Besides, the others needed to sleep. Speaking of which, I think I'll catch another nap myself," he said, leaning back against the pillow and stretching out so that his feet were almost in my lap.

"You can't do that, master," Heero said from the other kitchen, where he was putting the finishing touches on a pot of coffee.

"Why not?" Zechs asked in an almost pleading tone.

"Because we have to go to Master Grindel's party."

"Uhn!" Zehcs protested, burying his face in a pillow. "Can't we just skip?"

"It wouldn't be wise," Heero said as he left the coffee to brew and stood behind the couch in the den. "Master Grindel is fairly powerful, and he offends easily."

"Uh!" Zechs huffed. "I'm sick or something," he said, hugging tighter to his pillow. Heero smirked, leaning casually over the back of the couch.

"Lazy master," Heero teased. Zechs tensed and looked up, glaring at Heero's smirking face.

I sat back, afraid of what was about to happen. How could Heero so casually forget himself? Did he think a master would simply accept being spoken to in such a tone? And I could see Zechs coiling, ready to spring on his naive slave. Then, as suddenly as I had expected, Zechs pounced, grabbed Heero's shoulder, and dragged him over the back of the couch. Heero let out a squawk, falling gracelessly on top of Zechs. I jumped up and moved back, uncertain if intervention would only make things worse. Zechs was merciless in his assault, and Heero was thrashing hard, but with no definable purpose, so was having no luck in shaking off a master like Zechs. I contemplated running for one of the other slaves, but certainly they could hear the sound of Heero's... laughter?

It was a strange, surreal moment as I realized that Zechs, a cruel and domineering master, was indeed having a tickle-fight with one of his slaves as punishment for a heinous insult. I rubbed my eyes, half afraid I was still caught in a drug induced dream. Neither did the appearance of the other two slaves help, for neither seemed to think anything about this situation was in the least bit odd. On the contrary, Quatre grinned and climbed on top of the two squirming fighters, while Trowa gave a softer smile and seated himself by their feet, in my former spot. After another minute, Zechs let out a sigh and deflated, sagging back against the couch.

"I suppose I'd better get up," he sighed, looking at Heero, who was still laying on top of Zechs while Quatre lay on his back.

"If you're really tired, you could probably sleep another half an hour or so," Heero replied, "There's an hour before the party, and if you don't take long to dress..."

"No, I'd rather get there early so we can use that as an excuse to leave early. I'm hoping to have three or four hours between Grindel's party and Manx's party."

"For what?" Quatre asked curiously.

"Well, I guess there's no use hiding it. I'm going to see about the purchasing of the final addition to our household; one more slave."