Note: Thank you all again for the support of this story, I honestly never expected it to be so well received. Special thanks go out to Wondo for helping with the editing on this, and many other, chapters (not to mention setting me on this task in the first place). And thanks to Ellie for threatening me with jail time if I don't complete chapters on time...

Chapter Twenty-six

"Pareo..."

Years of conditioning caused Peter to instantly reach up and claw at his throat in anticipation of pain even though he knew he wasn't wearing a collar. Battling hard against the drugs Taylor had forced on him Peter had been trying to follow the conversation between Neal and Taylor that was happening in the nearby room. Unable to pick out many words he had really only been able to understand the general argumentative angry tone to Neal's voice, and the calm demanding response of Taylor. However the Latin command was one word that Peter could hear a hundred yards away through a raging storm even if it was only whispered. Peter wasn't surprised when Neal didn't scream, he'd almost never been able to find his own voice under the debilitating shock.

Fearful that the vet was enacting some sort of deranged revenge in his name on Neal Peter forced himself to sit up. The morphine had stolen his pain, but at the same time it was like having lead poured into his veins, making every move labor intensive and slow. Peter didn't fully understand Taylor's motives, but the conversation between them had quickly turned into what felt like an interrogation of Neal's behavior. Taylor had saved his life once, but that had been twenty years ago and when all was said and done he had still been part of the Market and could easily have been lying about having left it.

Peter hadn't made his mind up about Neal one way or the other, but he knew enough to know he didn't deserve being collared. He would gladly risk that Neal's motives weren't completely altruistic over any chance of being sent back to the Market. Even living with Cheng's abuse had been better than the maddening solitary that awaited any Animula that failed to keep their Master happy and was returned.

Even though most interacted very little with those around them Peter had noticed a spark of fear in even the most reserved Animula anytime they had been told that they were being sent back. The need for others was buried deep in a majority of his brothers, but it was there. Even after the advent of the collar the Market used the fact that Animula would always chose blind obedience to isolation as its main weapon.

Hearing Neal snarling at Taylor again bought Peter's scattered thoughts back to the task at hand as he drove himself to his feet. Staggering forward due to the intense dizziness he made his way towards the argument with no real plan of what to do once he got there. Before he got very far the IV tugged at him to remind him that he was still tied to it. Grabbing the line he yanked it out. Making it to the kitchen Peter stumbled and pitched forward. He caught himself by grabbing a hold of the kitchen table and eased himself down on his knees to avoid outright collapsing. Kneeling down with his hands up on the table the exposed position sparked a recent memory that momentarily assaulted his senses.

On his knees Peter gripped the edge of Cheng's large mahogany desk with enough force to blanch his knuckles white. Grinding his teeth together Peter braced himself for another breathtaking strike from the expertly wielded cane. The sound the thin weapon made as it cut through the air gave Peter half a second's worth of warning. Having to force himself to hold still while the chilling sound prickled his skin was hardest part of the archaic punishment. Every instinct was screaming at him to move, however Cheng took any attempt to throw off his aim or soften the blow as a personal insult. Flinching only when the searing flash of nauseating pain caused bile to jump to the back of his throat Peter nearly passed out as the edges of his vision turned to black.

Beyond staying in place Peter had also learned to do his best to remain as silent as possible during these violent encounters. His sadistic Master respected this particular form of bravery in the face of pain and rewarded it with a lighter sentence than he had first announced. However, tonight Cheng had been drinking and had either lost count or was just enjoying himself more than usual. Without a lot of options that wouldn't just instantly get him killed Peter tried to focus on something else while he waited for Cheng to tire.

Peter glanced over at the young woman in the corner with tears streaking down from her dark almond shaped eyes. Cheng had to take his aggression out on someone. If he didn't cooperate it just made things worse, not only for himself but for the others as well. It hadn't taken Peter long to realize that Cheng owned the women every bit as much as he owned him. He had tried in the beginning to encourage them to seek help through the law, but none of them spoke English and they were terrified of being caught interacting with him in anyway.

Having been momentarily distracted by his audience Peter cried out sharply as Cheng landed a powerful strike that actually forced him forward despite using the desk for support. Cheng wasn't always in the mood to draw blood, but when he was he was vicious about it. Still this evening he was far more violent than ever before. Feeling hot blood that had been slowly soaking his shirt suddenly start rolling down his back Peter feared he may have just been mortally wounded. Cheng had carved marks into his skin before, but never this many or so deep. Peter was just about break down and beg Cheng to stop when his tormentor casually tossed the blood spattered cane down on the marble floor next to him.

"Clean this mess up." Cheng ordered loftily.

"...yes, Master."

Forcibly shaking off the memory Peter snarled quietly at himself for allowing Cheng to abuse him so heavily for so long. At the time he had just accepted it as punishment for the crime of destroying Elizabeth's life. However there was something about the pain killing drugs that also chipped away at his thinking that he deserved any of the treatment he'd been subjected to for a life time. He hadn't ruined Elizabeth's life, it had been Renner that had forced her hand into buying him by threatening to separate them. There had been no reason other than spite for Renner to want to sell him, he had done nothing but work to the bone for the company to ensure that they would want to keep him, as he had done for every Master that had eventually given him up for one reason or another. His drug induced attack on Neal had had similar thoughts of being worth at least a chance before being collared and treated as dangerous. Like someone losing their inhibitions under the influence of alcohol Peter found that for whatever reason the opioids repressed a good deal of his brainwashing that he was some how inferior.

When Taylor suddenly came out into the kitchen Peter froze. The vet looked to be in a bit of a hurry and he didn't notice Peter kneeling on the floor as he searched through the drawers. After hearing what he thought was Neal being forced into using the universal passcode Peter deemed Taylor a direct threat. Even if Taylor's only interest was in hurting Neal Peter wasn't going let him torture anyone on his behalf, let alone a Master who was at least trying to be decent to him. Peter used the table to help him get to his feet quietly in hopes of taking Taylor by surprise. Peter was about to tackle Taylor but hesitated when the vet turned around to reveal that he had a large knife in his hands.

"Peter?" Taylor asked surprised.

Recovering slowly from seeing the weapon Peter tried to calculate how best to get it away from Taylor. Unable to come up with a proper plan he just bunched up his muscles as he prepared to just try to rush him and take it by force.

"Oh, wait, no..." Taylor looked down at the knife "this isn't what it looks like, Peter."

"Taylor?" Neal asked nervously from the next room. "What's going on out there?"

"Please tell Peter that I'm not trying to kill yo..."

Taylor had taken his eyes off Peter for a second when he'd gone to shout back to Neal and Peter had used the opportunity to go for the knife. Unlike Neal who had been sleeping when Peter had attacked Taylor had plenty of warning. Dropping the knife Taylor kicked it away from both his and Peter's reach before getting out of Peter's path. Just like when he had rushed Neal Peter ended up hitting the counter when Taylor stepped to the side.

"Taylor!" Neal called out having heard the commotion. "Peter?!"

"Everything is okay." Taylor tried to assure them both.

"Stay away from Neal," Peter snarled as he turned to face Taylor "stay away from me!"

"Calm down, Peter, if your heart rate gets too high you are going to pass out." Taylor warned. "You really weren't kidding about drugs making you aggressive."

"Drugs aren't making me aggressive, you are." Peter spat.

"Fair enough," Taylor put his hands up in a sign of peace "I don't want anyone to get hurt. I was getting the knife to help Neal, I tied him up and I can't get him free again."

"Peter, he's telling the truth, don't hurt him." Neal added blindly to the conversation.

Peter stared at Taylor for a moment unsure of what to think about the situation. Feeling that he was getting close to dropping Peter backed away from Taylor to ensure Neal was uninjured. Peter hurried across the short distance over to the archway to the walk in closet. Neal was laying on his side with his knees pulled up to his chest as he tried uselessly to bring his bound wrists behind his legs so he could get them out from behind his back. He'd gotten about half way there but now appeared stuck with his wrist trapped behind his knees. Neal stopped struggling and looked up at Peter in concern as he swayed in the door way.

"Neal..."

"I'm okay, don't hurt yourself." Neal fought to get his hand back up behind his back again so he could sit up. Looking up again he noticed the glassy look in Peter's eyes. "Are you alright?"

Trying to understand the scene with drugs and exhaustion rapidly taking their toll Peter didn't reply. Neal didn't appear to be collar or in any real distress, but he was being obviously held against his will. He went to step forward to try and help him but his taxed body finally started to fail him and he had to hold on to the door frame. Taylor came closer, but still stayed a few feet back.

"Peter," Taylor said gently "I'll help Neal, you need to go back to bed."

Unable to trust his own judgment at the moment Peter looked to Neal for direction.

"It's okay, Peter." Neal nodded. "Go lay down, we'll sort this out later."

Too tired to argue Peter allowed Taylor to guide him back towards bed. Taylor tried to help him lay down, but Peter used what was left of his strength to shove him away. He didn't want to, but he was forced to lay down as he became increasingly light headed. With his mind still spinning from the morphine and excursion Peter tried to make sense of what had just happened. Taylor stayed at his side for a moment. Unwilling to close his eyes Peter glared up at Taylor.

"What are you doing here?" Peter demanded. "What do you want from us?"

"I'm sorry about all this, Peter. I'm just trying to help."

"We were doing just fine without your 'help'."

"I can see that now. In fact I worry that I did more harm than good by intruding, but I had to be sure you were safe. I'm going to leave you two to work things out on your own for a while."

"What's to work out? He's my Master, end of story."

"Perhaps, or maybe it's the beginning of a whole new one."