(5 years ago)

It was time; Shawn was done waiting. He'd made sure their guard was down, he'd been on his 'best behavior', he'd even earned leftovers that night. If he didn't run now, he'd never do it. Which wasn't acceptable. He had to survive.

Shawn eased the knot of his leash free from the bedpost. Missy was so convinced he was a dog, she seemed to forget that he had thumbs too. A simple knot wasn't going to stop him. His dad had taught– He could undo this one in his sleep.

He had his route planned out. There was a flat roof outside of Missy's window, a tree to jump to, and then he'd put some distance between him and the house. After that he just had to hide until his collar ran out of juice. The man who'd trained him had shocked him enough times… he could handle some more.

The leash fell from the bed, and Shawn held his breath. Missy kept breathing deeply, having no idea that her new playtoy was going out for a stroll on his own. It was too bad he was trying to be stealthy… Putting shaving cream all over her head and hands sounded really nice… But it would have to stay in his imagination; he had a job to do.

He'd promised he'd survive. That's what he was going to do.

The leash was going to be a problem, though. The clasp was metal, and he'd already learned the hard way that touching it was the same as touching the collar. But that was just a speed bump. He snuck over to Missy's make-up cabinet and quickly found one of her cloth headbands. It fit over his hand perfectly. He braced himself as he reached up and undid the clasp. It didn't shock him. It was the perfect good omen.

The window was ridiculously easy to open silently, and the rooftop was cool against his bare feet. Maybe he should steal her shoes…? No, all of her shoes looked ridiculous, and most of them had heels. He was going to run away, not go shopping in a girl's closet. His feet had gotten tough; they could handle climbing down bark and running over rocks.

Except… the tree was a lot further away than he'd realized. Shawn crept to the edge of the roof and looked down; it was really far down. And there were several feet between him and the nearest branch that would hold his weight. Was this really a good idea? He could sneak back, leash himself again, find another way…

Be a pet again.

Shawn set his jaw and backed up for a running start. He wasn't sure what he was anymore, but it sure as hell wasn't that. He crouched low, bracing himself like a runner before bursting forward. A rush of glee pulsed through him, pushing him even faster until it felt like his feet were barely touching the ground. It took all of his control to not laugh in pure joy as his foot found the edge of the roof and pushed off. Nothing else mattered; he was flying. He was free.

(Present Day)

It had been a whole day since Missy had shown up, and the fear wouldn't go away. Every step Shawn took teetered on the edge of a gaping pit, a darkness that promised to swallow him whole. His heart wouldn't stop racing, even as he ate people food, slept in a people sleeping bag, and made people jokes with his master. He wasn't safe. He wouldn't ever be safe. The darkness would always be there, and it was only by the grace of Gus that he hadn't fallen yet.

Gus usually felt like an island of safety, but now Shawn saw him for what he really was. A light tether in a hurricane, just a sliver of light trying to keep the void away.

Abigail wasn't safe. All it would take was Rowan deciding they needed the money more than they needed to prove their parents wrong. And then she would be gone, never to be seen again. Shawn wasn't safe. All it would take would be him convincing Gus to do one unsafe things too many. They'd been lucky –too lucky– so far. But luck always ran out. And the collar was always there.

It was just a matter of time. And then he'd be sold, and it wouldn't be to someone like Missy. It certainly wouldn't be another Gus.

He didn't want to lose Gus.

A loud bell rang shrilly above his head, and he flinched with a quiet whimper. The slave next to him glanced over, his jaw ticking in a silent reproach. Shawn ducked his head in acknowledgement and kept his eyes on the floor; slaves weren't to be seen or heard. He couldn't forget what he was. He wasn't safe.

"Shawn, stand up. Follow me," Gus ordered above him.

Shawn did as he was told. He was making Gus nervous, but the fear wouldn't let him do anything else. He didn't want to go back.

Gus stayed silent as they made their way to the dorm for lunch. There wasn't much time before his next class, but Gus had said Shawn should stay in their room for the chemistry lab. It wasn't safe. She might be there.

Shawn's heart rose to his throat, beating frantically against his metal collar, trying to escape. It couldn't escape, but he could. It was risky, but he could finally be safe. Real safe. Real free.

"I rescind all orders… Do I need to give you options for lunch?"

They were in the food hall. Gus had been trying to ease him into making more choices on his own. Shawn pulled up a mental image of the food menu; he could do this. He'd have to do it if he ran, and if he ran he'd make Gus sad. He could make him happy now. "I c-can do it."

"Ok." Gus clearly knew something was wrong. "But I'm here if you change your mind. No judgment."

"Yes, sir." People were looking at him. Gus wasn't safe when he was with Shawn; he didn't act right.

His hands shook as he served himself food, but he didn't need any choices. He was able to do it on his own. Gus' expression looked conflicted while they ate together and it was a surprise when he chose to speak again. "I know something's not right, you know. I'm not going to let her hurt you."

"I know." He did know. But Gus had been willing to hit someone for him. He could choose to hit the wrong person, he could get in trouble. If he got into trouble too many times, then he could be– Shawn wrenched his thoughts away from that possibility. He couldn't panic; he couldn't make things worse.

He'd make sure Gus was safe, and then nothing bad would ever happen again.

"Ok… Well, it's almost time for me to go. If I end up with her as a lab partner, how bad should I tank her grade?"

Gus was willing to do that for him? Why?

"Y-You don't…" It wasn't safe. And now Gus was worried again. Shawn had to do something people-like to make him not worry… Chemistry lab didn't need a laptop. There was information on the laptop. The more information he had, the better his chances if- when he tried to run. "A l-long time ago… you said I could borrow your computer?"

Gus' jaw dropped and it was clear that he was scrambling to try to understand what was going on. Shawn didn't understand either, he just knew none of them were safe.

"Uh… Yeah. We can get that set up really quick."

Gus was good. Abigail was good. He could keep them safe. Shawn put his dirty tray away and walked back to the dorm room, every step taking him further away from the darkness. He knew what to do. He'd get free, then he'd find Abigail and free her, and then none of them would have to be scared ever again.

Finding information on the internet was harder than Shawn had initially thought. He knew better than to look up the Black Market right away; his goal was to keep Gus safe. But that did beg the question of what he could look up. Anything to do with slaves running away could get noticed too… And the fact that it took him forever to find the right letters and peck them into the search bar really didn't help anything.

Why couldn't the keyboard be laid out in alphabetical order? At least then he could sing the song to himself to figure out where the right key was.

A small memory finally rescued him, a conversation between his dad and his partner, reminding him of a way to hide online. He carefully typed in the letters 'VPN' and found his way.

Unsurprisingly, the words 'Black Market' and 'Slaves' brought up entirely useless –and disturbing– posts. Maybe that was why they'd chosen that name. Shawn typed a new search and started scrolling through the different stories of masters who's slaves had run away.

The initial results weren't promising. Shawn's shoulders grew more and more tense as he read of hunting dogs, police chases, beatings, and worse. Memories flashed by, of never ending shocks, bodies bringing him to the ground, blood dripping down his back, chains heavy around his limbs. He wasn't there. He knew better now. He was stronger and faster now. It wouldn't be like that again.

Slowly, as the stories started to bleed together, a small pattern started to emerge. Of masters that noticed their slaves missing just a little too quickly, or slaves that were able to run just a little too far, or a police response that was just a bit too efficient. Interestingly, those stories all seemed to have the same basic punishments as well; the police mandated sentencing of correction, and then another whipping at home. Masters weren't always creative, but for there to be so many similarities… They were lying.

How many of them were lying about catching their slave?

It was time to narrow down the search, now that he knew what to look for. Shawn hunted and pecked for another minute, finding the right filters to bring up runaways in California. It didn't take long to get a feel for where in California each post was, and soon he had a short list of instances that had all happened within or near Santa Barbara. And three of them had the same patterns as before.

His heart began to race as he carefully read each one. Ten years ago, a female slave's master had died of old age. She hadn't been found in the deceased's belongings. That one didn't even try to disguise the fact that she hadn't been found; the poster had very gleefully pointed out every time the police had failed a 'simple task'. The next one was more recent, just two years ago. A male had run away while working in the vineyards. Allegedly, the overseer had discovered he was missing after only fifteen minutes and had tracked him down easily. It was all too easy. But there were vineyards all over town; it didn't narrow anything down.

The next three instances seemed legit, and only one slave had been kept by their master. From the gleeful descriptions of her punishment, it wasn't clear whether she would have been better off going back to the selling block.

But the last one caught Shawn's eye. Not only was it suspiciously vague on details… it was from a student. From Santa Barbara University. He read the post, then reread it, looking for any small detail he could to narrow down where to search. His answer had to be here; even if it wasn't where the Black Market was now, it would lead him to one of their old bases. And with the amount of people needed for an operation like that, there had to be a sign for where to go next.

He could do this.

But unfortunately, the only detail to be given was that the slave had jumped into a culvert and hadn't come out the other side. It was good to know, but the University was large; there were hundreds of culverts. How would he ever know the right one to look for?

Shawn's eyes slid down to the corner of the screen and his heart lurched in his throat before diving into his stomach. Gus would be back any second. Shawn quickly exited out of the VPN and closed the damning windows. He'd just started a new search for advanced origami designs when the door to the room opened.

"Shawn! I'm back and…" Gus stood staring in the doorway. "And you're fine."

Good, he didn't suspect. "Yep; fit as a fiddle." Though with how he'd been acting, it made sense for Gus to assume he was coming back to paper-apocalypse-2.0. "How was class?"

"Uh…" It was almost like watching a computer reboot as Gus recovered from his shock, closed the door behind him, and then began to look worried again. "So, remember how you said I couldn't tank that bitch's grade?"

"Technically, I didn't tell you to do, or not do, anything," Shawn couldn't help but point out, his racing heart letting his tongue run loose. "You're her partner, aren't you."

"It was her idea, not mine; I was just going to stay away from her," Gus answered quickly. "I'm sorry, I know that sucks. I swear I tried to fight it."

The chasm gaped behind him, making itself visible for the first time in hours. She could teach Gus how to be a proper master… Which was ridiculous. Better people than her had already tried. "You don't have to apologize."

"No, I really do." Gus glanced at the laptop screen and his face lit up. "So the computer helped?"

Gus helped. He always had. "Yeah, I didn't even notice how long it had been."

"God, we should have tried that ages ago. I just thought…"

"That I would have freaked out." Shawn nodded in agreement. "I probably would have." They'd come a long way, even since moving onto campus. "Thanks for letting me try."

"I don't need it for most of my classes. Unless I have to do a lot of writing, it can stay here."

Gus just looked so hopeful… A sick feeling stabbed Shawn through the heart as he smiled and fed the lie. "I'd like that. Thanks."

He was keeping Gus safe. He was going to make Abigail safe. It was going to be worth it.

Over the next few days, Shawn narrowed his search area. The biggest game changer was the story of a female slave who made it halfway across campus before she'd been caught by the police. It seemed real, but the interesting thing was that she'd run into campus, instead of away from it. Like she knew where she needed to go.

Shawn spent the rest of his next search looking up failed escape attempts while trying to extrapolate where the slave had been running. It was messy, and there weren't many leads, but he slowly began to see a pattern in the mental map on his head. He knew where to start looking.

Several of his searches were more benign, to keep Gus from guessing. Over the next week, the cut up homework came back out again and soon Gus' desk had several more decorations. Shawn had particularly delighted in learning how to fold the paper into a padlock and had made them all afternoon until they were almost perfect. One of them went on Gus' desk next to his lockpicks. Another was safely tucked into Shawn's basket, but only after he'd used a pair of scissors to open the lock.

He'd planned as much as he could. It was time to act.

There was only one thing Shawn hadn't counted on. Guilt.

Every day he stayed in the dorm to research, Gus came back looking so happy that Shawn was able to be on his own without freaking out. More than once, Shawn almost told him everything. Knowing Gus, he'd do something as insane as helping…

Which wasn't safe. If he was found helping a slave escape… All of Shawn's nightmares would come true.

Shawn had to do this. By himself.

Now if only that fact would stop hurting everytime Gus smiled…

Though, Gus had just come back from his chemistry lab, and he wasn't smiling this time. Instead, he had a chagrined look on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So… Remember how you told me not to tank that bitch's grade?"

Gus never used her name, like he thought Shawn would freak out again just by that alone. The sickly knife twisted in Shawn's gut as he answered, "Yes?"

"I swear it wasn't entirely on purpose… But I may or may not have dumped a beaker of chemicals into her purse. Which, I'd like to point out, isn't entirely my fault, because she shouldn't have had her purse on the lab bench in the first place."

The smell of baking pretzels taunted him as Missy's hand dipped into her purse and pulled out a handful of dry treats.

Shawn swallowed against a dry throat, his collar shifting with the movement. "Exactly how not-on-purpose was it?"

"It was going to spill anyway… so I made sure it spilled in the right direction?" Gus sunk into the bed, his existence radiating guilt. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't want me to do anything, but she's just so… wrong. The way she talks about you, and the way she treated you, and what you told me, and… I couldn't stop myself."

Gus was doing unsafe things again. But he was doing them for Shawn, which was the best and worst part of it all. "Was she mad?"

"Yeah… But she also said something about it being old and she could use a shopping trip anyway."

"Jessica, if you can't take care of your things, then I'm going to sell him to someone who will."

"He's not any fun anymore; I don't care. Which one, yellow or pink?"

A loud beep sounded out. "Wh-Whichever you like,...Missy."

A strange feeling rose through Shawn, something that made him want to curl up in the corner and scream from the top of the roof and punch someone all at the same time. His voice sounded harsh to his own ears as he said, "Good. I'm glad you did it."

Gus practically melted into his mattress in relief. "Oh thank god. I should have waited, but I didn't actually feel bad about it."

He was going to have to get used to doing things without thinking about Shawn first. "You did good. She deserved it."

"Thanks… You should have seen her face." Gus' face contorted into an overexaggerated look of shock. "It was worth it. So, what did you do today?"

The strange feeling suddenly turned inward, and Shawn fought to keep anything from showing on his face as he chose his truths carefully. "I finished another chapter in the cop book." He'd wanted to have something safe to talk about. "I looked up some crimes in the area." Slaves running away were committing crimes. "And I looked up a bit about what happens if a slave is arrested."

Crap, he shouldn't have said that last one.

"Anything I should know about?"

Shawn forced his movements to be smooth as he gave a small shrug. "Just something your sister said. If I'm more likely to get blamed for your criminal activities, then I'd like to know what'll happen…"

This conversation was wrong.

"Find anything out?" Gus asked, his voice fake-casual.

"Not too much." Most internet articles didn't really care about what happened to a person's property. "Some go back to their owners, some get sold to recuperate the cost to the city…" and a lot were never seen again. His dad had always been very tight lipped about what happened to those particular slaves.

"Well, I guess we'll have to keep our streak going, then. We're two for 0 so far."

"Yeah…" They'd been lucky, not being caught in Mr. Fuller's house or the Administrator's office. He knew better than to rely on luck. "I guess we will."

It was the day. Nerves danced under Shawn's skin, so strong that he almost expected to see electricity jumping from his cuffs. It took all of his willpower to keep himself natural as Gus triple checked with him, "You're sure you don't want me to come back for lunch?"

"There's plenty of food, and you can't stay long anyways," Shawn answered, letting just enough of the energy out to give a genuine smile. "There's no point to you walking twenty minutes for only half an hour of lunch."

"Yeah, but then you could decide if you wanted to come with this afternoon…"

The energy soured and sharpened, running along his scars. He deserved the pain their memories brought up. "I promise you won't come back to origami overload. I've been doing better, right?"

"... Right." Gus' worried eyes drove a spike of guilt through Shawn's heart, making him want to throw up. He almost spilled everything right then and there. Gus would want to help him…

And that was why he couldn't tell.

"I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me; go learn stuff." Gus would be better off without having to worry about Shawn. It would hurt, but it'd be for the better.

"Ok…" Gus glanced at his watch and inched towards the door. " We'll get something good for dinner, then. To celebrate you doing so well."

The spike in Shawn's heart wrapped around his lungs, not letting him breathe or speak as he nodded. Gus gave him one last worried smile, and the door closed. And a warm pressure slammed behind Shawn's eyes; he was never going to see him again.

It took several minutes for the urge to cry to finally go away. It was for the better, for all of them. Shawn wasn't safe, and no one around him was safe. He was the only one who could fix that. And now he'd just made sure that Gus wouldn't be in trouble for not reporting him running away. By that night, he'd be far enough away that Gus could call the police with a clean conscience.

It was still hard, though. The energy was happy to make his hands shake and his breath hitch in his throat, but it didn't help him actually move and do the things he needed to do. The first step was his note. He'd typed it up two days ago and then carefully copied it by hand, using the computer's built-in spell check. Gus liked things to be accurate.

The note seemed ridiculously short, now that it was laying on top of the laptop. There were so many things he hadn't been able to come up with the right words, or they'd just hurt too much to think about. But it would have to do; if he tried rewriting it until it was perfect, then he'd never leave.

The next step was getting dressed. It was just cool enough outside for people to be wearing sweatshirts and scarves. Perfect weather to hide a slave collar.

The soft yellow sweatshirt should have felt like judgement and remorse, but it was still as comfortable as ever. It pulled tight around his throat as he carefully zipped it up as far as it would go. The zipper clinked against his collar and he had to take a moment to calm down again. He was breaking the rules already; he was doing this.

He was doing this. He was going to be free.

Shawn set his jaw and wound Gus' scarf around his neck, making sure it covered everything it should. He just needed one more thing. He carefully wrapped his hand in one of his shirts and picked up the remote where Gus had left it on the desk. The half-mile radius that it enforced couldn't leash him if he brought it with. He held his breath as he slid it into his pocket; would the fabric be thick enough? The remote pressed into his leg, and no pain followed.

Shawn's breath came out in a loud huff. He was doing this.

And, finally, the energy changed, pushing him forward with a will of its own. It felt like a dream as he opened the door and walked into the hall like a free person. As soon as the thought came to him, he adjusted his destination and nearly sprinted to the bathroom. There weren't mirrors in Gus' room, and he had to know.

He stared at the mirror, and a person stared back. He was finally comfortable with his face, his hair looked exactly like he imagined it, and absolutely nothing showed underneath the scarf. As far as anyone would be concerned, the Santa Barbara University just gained another student. His reflection smiled widely and a laugh bubbled out as a weight that he'd become painfully used to lifted from his shoulders.

He wasn't going to lose this feeling. Nothing could stand in his way.

(5 years ago)

Shawn pushed off from the roof, and the world held its breath as he was suspended between the two areas of safety. He barely stopped the laugh of pure joy as he flew from the house. He was free.

The tree reached out for him and he met it halfway, his hands scrambling to hold on as smaller branches scratched his face and arms. A loud snap sounded out and the tree dropped him back to the air. His stomach lurched as the ground rose up to meet him and he grabbed frantically for another branch of safety.

Rough bark scraped his hands, leaves smacked him in the face, and a sharp branch scraped the side of his leg as he jerked to a stop. His shoulders screamed and his pulse raced against his collar as he hung onto his salvation. That hadn't been part of the plan…

It took him a second to recover before he swung his legs up and scrambled onto the large branch he'd grabbed. He'd made it. But he wasn't safe yet; he had to find somewhere to hide where he could wait out the shocks.

The tree seemed to cling to him as he made his way down. Sap stuck to his fingers as twigs tangled in his hair, his savior turning into yet another restraint trying to keep him in his place. He didn't listen to Missy, or her father, or his trainer… Why would he listen to a tree?

His muscles trembled as he finally reached the ground, scratched and bruised and already exhausted. But he was outside, and no one was around. He'd worked through worse, and this time he had the highest goal to focus on. He wasn't just surviving; he wanted more.

He was going to get more.

He set his jaw and started jogging away from the house as he reviewed the rest of his plan. Missy always charged his collar after church, so he had fifteen hours to find somewhere to hide. Once the collar was out of power, it would just be a hunk of metal. No one would be able to control him anymore.

He just needed to hide where they wouldn't expect.

The forest was an obvious choice, but that was the problem. It was too obvious. He needed somewhere insane where they wouldn't think to look. He looked behind him at the warm and inviting house. It certainly fit the 'insane' criteria… But he'd be in range of the remote. And people would hear the warning beeps…

He kept moving, his eyes scanning for any ideas. The long driveway to the house caught him off guard and he nearly fell as the soft grass turned to sharp rocks. He quickly made his way across the obstacle and found safety in the lines of grape vines on the other side. Which gave him an idea.

The overseers didn't work on Sundays. And they did keep saying he was a tool…

He picked up the pace as he remembered where he'd seen the shed that the vineyard slaves stored their tools in. Worst case scenario, at least he'd have lots of sharp things around to fight with. He'd taken a tour with Missy, the shed couldn't be more than a mile away. He could run that far.

The shock hit less than a minute later. Shawn stumbled as his body jolted. It wasn't a strong shock, but it shouldn't have happened at all… He took another step and another shock hit, this one strong enough to leave him panting. Another step and pain brought him to his knees.

No one should have known he was gone; why was this happening? He crawled forward, electricity jolting through him at every movement, growing into a crescendo and setting his nerves ablaze. He reached forward, gaining one more inch before collapsing to the ground, screaming under the weight of the pain.

Another noise joined his voice as the edges of the world blurred, a loud screech blaring from his neck, loud enough to make his ears bleed.

The shocks stopped, but it didn't matter. Everything hurt as his consciousness floated from his body. He'd failed.

He couldn't have made it more than half a mile.