(Friday)

The glass doors closed behind Shawn, trapping him in the bookstore as he followed his master. There were two hours before Gus' next cluster of classes, and for some reason Gus had decided they needed to stop here before going to lunch.

There were corn dogs today… Shawn hadn't had corn dogs since he was sold.

"Are you good?" Gus asked as he walked to the back of the store.

There weren't many people here; it was safe to answer as himself. "I'm… not not-good."

The unrelenting urge to move and be useful was quieter while he was following Gus around, but it was replaced by the fear of being in a crowd and the pressures of slave-mode.

"I'll take it." The relief was obvious in Gus' voice. "If I want you to pick something out, do you need me to narrow down the options first?"

The deep dread of making the wrong choice clawed at the back of Shawn's throat as an office filled with books tried to replace the store. "Y-Yes, please."

His memories being closer to the surface was another downside of the constant fear and pressure. It wasn't Gus' fault; he didn't need to worry about it. Shawn just had to focus on the corndogs they were going to eat soon. Maybe he'd choose nachos as his side this time…

"I've been doing some research into how to help you be alone," Gus explained as he turned into an aisle. "Without orders. I haven't really figured much out yet, but I figured drawing helped you yesterday…" He stopped in front of a shelf filled with sketchbooks and looked over the options. "Maybe it could keep helping. Do you want black leather- Wait, no. Sorry. Uh… Brown or blue?"

The feeling of leather around his mouth tried to pull him away, and Shawn clenched his hands, the pricks of pain from his nails tying him to the present. "Blue looks nice."

"Got it." Gus pulled down the dark blue book. "Do you want your own pens or pencils?"

"No th-thank you." The memories kept growing louder, reminding him that he'd be paying for anything that was bought for him. He focused past them. He'd get ketchup to dip the corndog in, the pudding at the salad bar would be a good dessert, ice water sounded perfect after all of the walking…

"I figure we won't worry about trying out new stuff until tomorrow; I know the crowds are getting to you." A card reader beeped, pleasantries were exchanged, and a book was being held out to him. "Do you want to hold this, or do you want me to put it in the backpack?"

"I can hold it." Shawn took the book and flipped through the pages before he could stop himself. They felt thicker than usual paper, and every one was blank, just waiting for him to fill them. There wasn't any reason for this gift; if his master wanted him to draw, he could just use old paper like earlier.

Except that wasn't the point. The point was that Gus was more than a master.

"Thank you," Shawn said quietly as he ran his thumb over the book spine.

"You're welcome," Gus said easily as he led them back out of the store. "I don't know about you, but corndogs sound fantastic. Will you be able to handle the dining hall?"

Shawn smiled as they turned towards the dorm. "Yeah, I'm good."

(Saturday)

Shawn carefully put the shower supplies in their tote as he listened through the curtain. The brunette slave, Penny, had been fairly consistent on when she came to shower. But it was a Saturday, so her schedule might be different.

He heard a door open, and he felt a smile stretch across his face before he hid it and peeked around the curtain. It was Penny, right on time. He picked up the tote and walked out, trying to project a sense of confidence that he didn't feel. Penny nodded to him in greeting as her face broke into a yawn, making her nose scrunch up.

"Good morning, Penny," Shawn said, watching as her nose stayed scrunched longer than the yawn lasted. Something was off. Her face quickly smoothed to a neutral expression, as if she'd noticed she was showing more than she should. Shawn kept a close eye on her as he asked, "Are you doing ok?"

Her master hadn't seemed angry at her tripping yesterday, but they could have also been saving face in front of Gus.

"Yes, I'm ok," Penny answered without any inflections.

"Are you hurt?" Shawn regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. He had no right to force a truthful answer like that.

"No." Penny looked every inch the perfect slave as she walked by him with a blank face and her eyes on the floor.

It could just be the weirdness of talking to another slave without anyone watching, but she'd seemed happy to talk yesterday morning. What had he done wrong?

"That's good to hear…" Shawn's thoughts flew by as he remembered her facial changes. She'd been fine, he'd said hello, then she hadn't been fine. Actually, he'd said hello, Penny, then she hadn't been fine. "You don't like being called Penny, do you?"

She flinched before quickly catching herself and answering in a blank voice. "It's what my master calls me."

"But it's not what you want to be called, is it?"

The brunette's eyes darted around the room as she tensed. "It doesn't matter what a slave wants."

Damnit, he was getting too used to Gus. Shawn took a step away from her and looked down. "You're right, sorry."

She stayed where she was for another second before slowly turning to go into the showers.

"This is so dumb that we have to do this in person," Gus grumbled quietly as the line moved forward.

Shawn stayed quiet, keeping himself as invisible as possible. There weren't many people registering their slaves first thing in the morning, but the added scrutiny on each slave was easy to feel as they all waited in line.

The people at the desk couldn't make him go back to the Gusters, right? Or did he want them to make him go back to the life that almost made sense?

"Sorry, I know this sucks. We'll get off campus after this before we worry about the staying alone thing. I don't want to rush, but I did promise you I'd only try for a week." Gus' fingers worried at the leash strap. "I was thinking maybe I could teach you how to tap, then you could use your energy-"

"Next," a bored voice called out, interrupting Gus' explanation.

Shawn fought against a rush of memories as they went up to the desk. He didn't want to dance for a master again.

Gus' hand clutched the leash like a lifeline, but none of his apparent nerves showed in his voice as he said, "Hi, my name's Burton Guster and I'm here to register my slave."

The keyboard clacked loudly as Shawn stared at the shiny floor, tracing the marks from the people and slaves who'd been here before them.

"Tracking number?" the woman asked.

"60027070," Gus rattled off without hesitation.

"Age?"

"Uh, eighteen I think."

The woman sighed and the keys clacked some more as she muttered, "White, male, brown hair… Are you planning on coloring its hair anytime this year?"

"No," Gus answered with an edge to his voice.

"What trainings does it have?"

"None."

"Does it have a history of violence, running away, or disobedience?"

"Nope," Gus lied without missing a beat.

"It's main purpose for being here?"

It was a good question; why was he there?

Gus hesitated before answering, "Companionship."

"Alright, your slave has been registered," the woman said as one more keystroke saved the only important information about him. "Next!"

Gus took a step away before pausing, his hand clenching and unclenching around the leash. He spun back around and told the woman, "Not that you care, but his name is Shawn. And that matters."

The warm feeling burst in Shawn's chest as he followed his friend out of the office.

(Sunday)

Shawn's teeth worried at his lip as his fingers drummed against the shampoo bottle, making small water droplets fly through the air. Another minute ticked by; he couldn't justify waiting any longer. Was the brunette too wary of him now? Or was her schedule off because of the weekend? And why did he care? It wasn't like he needed to see her…

Shawn shook his head at himself and gathered his things. Slaves didn't make friends; it didn't matter if she avoided him now. He checked the hallway several times on the way to Gus' room. It stayed empty.

The pen traveled slowly across the paper as Shawn focused on making the lines right. He used to be decent at drawing. If he could get good again, maybe it could be useful somehow.

"This website has a lot of information on how to learn to relax," Gus reported from the top of the washing machine, his computer on his lap. "Almost anything can be relaxing, as long as it grounds you or helps you feel at ease. I don't suppose you have any ideas on activities that could do that?"

Being around Gus did that, but that wasn't the right answer. Being useful did it too, which was also wrong. Shawn cleared his mind and carefully lied, "I can't think of anything."

The pen zig zagged, adding sharp points to the picture as Gus sighed. "You mean you can't think of anything that isn't slave-related."

It was annoying how often Gus saw through his lies. "You don't want me to be useful."

"No, I don't want you to have to be a slave."

"Same thing," Shawn muttered as he added the last details to the T-rex he was drawing. It was sloppy, the lines were shaky, and his shading was non-existent. How could this ever be useful?

"It really isn't the same." The washer buzzed, and Gus hopped down. He glanced at the drawing as Shawn brought the laundry basket over. "That looks pretty good."

Gus was just trying to help; he didn't want anything. Because he was a friend. "... Thanks."

(Monday)

Nervous energy thrummed under Shawn's skin as he left the shower. He was going to be alone in the room again. Gus had offered to find a holding room in the chemistry building, but it was obvious he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to order Shawn to stay.

Which was fine, it was good even. He could prove to Gus that he could do better and not take up so much of his time. Gus was nice, both as a master and a friend. He deserved to have a slave that didn't need constant help.

The door opened, and Shawn looked up in surprise. He hadn't expected to see the brunette again. The door closed behind her as she gave him a small smile and sent two quick signs.

"Good morning to you too," Shawn said as he returned the smile. "What do those signs mean?"

"It's…" she tilted her head back and forth like she was trying to come up with the right words. "...a friendly greeting."

"Is there an unfriendly one?" Shawn asked in interest. For all of the years he'd been collared, he still didn't know much about other slaves.

"There's a few," the brunette admitted. She pulled her hand close to her chest and held up two fingers, moving them away from her body before clenching her fist.

"How badly did you just cuss me out?"

She shook her head with an amused look. "It's not angry. More like… 'I see you, but that's all I can do'. Why does your master let you-"

Her collar beeped in warning, and she lifted her eyebrows to complete the question as she tapped her lips.

"Because Gus- my master is really weird," Shawn admitted. "Why?"

She looked him over quickly. "Because you're a really weird slave."

A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips as she walked past him without another word.

[Catalyst: a substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change. Catalysts can be found everywhere, from the baking soda in the kitchen to enzymes in detergents and even the iron in your blood. In this chapter, you'll learn why these substances are important and how they work…]

Shawn groaned and tossed the textbook on the bed as he took another lap around the room. Gus' grand idea had been for Shawn to learn with him, so they could be 'study buddies'. And Shawn could already tell that it was an absolutely terrible idea.

This was supposed to be a beginner's book, 'Perfect for anyone to learn' according to the cover. His head ached from trying to understand chemical formulas, how they were balanced, and why they needed to be balanced in the first place. It was just a whole bunch of boring numbers and letters getting shuffled around for apparently no good reason.

A surge of frantic energy pushed him forward, and he dropped to the ground, forcing his body through another round of push-ups until his arms burned and collapsed under him. There wasn't a chance in hell that he'd ever learn enough to help Gus study. And if it wasn't useful, then what was the point? It sure as hell wasn't 'grounding' or 'helping him feel at ease'.

Shawn growled and combat crawled to his basket to grab his sketchbook. At least he had something tangible to be annoyed at…

"I'll show you a chemical formula," Shawn muttered as his pen darted across the page. "Seventy-five percent potassium nitrate, fifteen percent charcoal, ten percent sulfur…"

He was just scribbling dark explosion lines around the sketched chemical beakers when Gus burst into the room, panting for breath. "I'm back, are you ok?"

"Yes, sir, I'm ok," Shawn said quickly as he scrambled to his feet. He locked his hands behind him so Gus couldn't see how they were shaking with the need to be useful. "I'm awesome, never better, didn't even notice you were-" his collar beeped, bringing a quick jolt of pain for the blatant lie.

Concern radiated from Gus as he took a step forward before stopping himself. "Shawn…"

"S-Sorry, sir." Shawn dropped his gaze to the floor. Just because Gus was trying to get him to not act like a slave didn't mean he could forget his place. He knew better than to try to lie when he was already unbalanced. "I really am ok, honest."

He'd been way worse before. Being bored and cooped up wasn't anything in comparison.

"I take it studying didn't help?" Gus asked without a trace of judgment. Shawn didn't deserve him.

"I tried, but it was… Slaves don't- I mean, I didn't…"

"It's ok. I knew it was a long shot. I'm sorry I didn't come up with something better."

There Gus went again, apologizing when other masters would punish him.

"Here." Gus handed over his backpack. "I'm guessing you need to get out of here?"

"Yes, sir," Shawn answered miserably. He needed to make less work for Gus, not more. The bag settled over his shoulders, the weight grounding him.

"Alright, let's go." Gus attached the leash and led Shawn out of the room.

(Tuesday)

"Are you hungry?" Shawn asked the brunette as soon as they finished their morning greetings.

She gave him a strange look and answered, "Yes…"

"Right, dumb question." Shawn shook his head at himself as he pulled out two bags of combos from his shower tote. "Are you allowed to eat?"

"Yes," she answered, much faster. She hesitated before bringing her hand up to her mouth in a sign.

"That means 'food'?" Shawn handed over the snacks.

She took them, clearly surprised to be handed both bags. The collar beeped before she remembered the question. "Yes. If you make a question face, it's asking if you're allowed."

Which made sense. It was the only question about food that a slave would need. "I hope you enjoy your breakfast."

Shawn signed goodbye and left before she could recover and ask him what he wanted in exchange.

The smell of coffee filled the air as the morning sun shone through the window. Shawn sat on the bed, reading his comic as he waited for a chance to be useful.

He turned the page, barely taking in the large picture of a magical battle before he stared through it, going back to his memories. If he was going to be useful, he couldn't be constantly shut down by crowds. Even when he was a kid, they could be too much.

The memory of the lecture hall made his heart race as hundreds of people stood up at once and started talking. His dad's voice reminded him, "Too much information is just as bad as too little. Focus. Separate out the important intel and leave the rest behind. How many hats?"

Shawn let out a breath and focused, letting all of the other details slide by as he counted. Thirty-two hats that he could see, though he'd have to pay attention to everyone walking out to try to catch more. Most of them were ball caps with a smattering of fedoras, bucket hats, and even a random hat with a little propeller on it.

"Shawn, are you ok?" Gus' voice broke through the memory.

"Yeah," Shawn answered quickly as he let the past fall away. "Sorry. Did you need something?"

"No…" Gus put his empty coffee mug down, and Shawn fought to not stare at it. It was something he could clean. "It's a long day of classes today. Can you let me know if it gets to be too much?"

Focus, count, how many hats. "I'll be fine."

(Wednesday)

"You were born a slave, weren't you?" Shawn asked after the brunette taught him another sign.

"Yes," she confirmed as her hands clasped together. "My mother cooked for everyone, I helped until I turned eight and was sold." She lifted her eyebrows in a question and nodded towards him.

"Collared six years ago," Shawn answered as he fidgeted with his towel. He couldn't talk about his mom, but she'd offered more information; it seemed rude to not match it. "Foster care, trained to be a house slave."

She gave him a sympathetic look and tapped her heart.

He nodded in solidarity. "You too. Do you want me to go now?"

"You shouldn't waste time." She hesitated before quickly adding, "You were right."

"Right about what?"

"My master calls me Penny."

Shawn understood the words that she wasn't allowed to say. He asked carefully, "Do you have something you'd like to be called?"

She thought for a second before saying, "My mother called me Abigail."

It was a pretty name, and it suited her. "I hope you have a good day, Abigail."

Her face lit up with a smile before she signed goodbye and walked past him.

"Are you kidding me?!" Gus snapped out.

Shawn gratefully opened his eyes and stopped the meditative breathing he'd been trying. Just the fact that Gus had asked him to try showed just how few ideas he had. "What's up?"

"This dumb website, and its dumb ideas, and its… Listen to this." Gus made his voice obnoxiously nasally as he quoted, "'It's a choice to be busy. It's a choice to be stressed. It's a choice to be happy. Choose wisely.'"

Shawn snickered at the disgusted look on Gus' face, like the very words tasted offensive. "In their defense, they probably didn't think about slaves when they wrote that."

"I don't care. It's bullshit for free people too." Gus pressed two keys angrily, getting rid of the website. He grumbled under his breath, "Choose wisely… They can choose to suck it."

Shawn smiled and chose to keep watching his friend instead of meditating again.

(Thursday)

"Good morning, Abigail," Shawn said, noticing how her lips twitched up at the name. He handed over a package of peanut butter crackers. "How's the first week of classes been?"

Abigail took the food with a nod of thanks. "It's gone well; my master has been very busy. You?"

He still couldn't pin down what kind of master she had. They reminded him a bit of Missy with how they'd petted Abigail a few days ago.

"Yeah, mine's been really busy too." Especially with Shawn needing so much help. "He's like the bus in Speed."

A confused look crossed Abigail's face.

"It's a movie where the bus blows up if it stops. You haven't been allowed to watch movies, have you?"

"My master doesn't watch many." She thought quickly and added, "So like the clock in the crocodile?"

It was both cute and wonderful that she was using a Peter Pan reference. "Yeah, exactly like the clock in the crocodile."

Her smile looked proud as she opened the package of crackers.

The neat, orderly lines on the paper mocked Shawn, flaunting the blank spots he'd never be able to fill. The clues that weren't real clues didn't help in the slightest, and the few answers he'd managed to guess were probably misspelled so badly that he'd never be able to finish the puzzle. He read the last clue again, just one word. Zilch.

He bared his teeth at the word describing him and his failings and flung the newspaper away. Gus looked back at the noise, and Shawn froze. He'd thrown away a gift; a slave was grateful for what it was given.

"Sorry, sir, sorry." Shawn scrambled forward on his hands and knees, rescuing the crossword puzzle from its early grave under Gus' bed. He was failing at being what Gus wanted, he was failing at being a slave… No matter what he did, he was just failing.

"Can I see it?" Gus held out his hand.

Shawn cringed but followed the not-order and handed it over.

"Yeah, that's not going to work," Gus said as he looked over the source of Shawn's frustrations. He tossed it onto his desk and flipped open one of his notebooks. Shawn settled back onto his knees as Gus crossed off the second to last option on his list. "And there goes my last idea."

He stared at the notebook before scribbling out the last option. He tossed the pen down and leaned back with an exhausted sigh. Shawn clenched his hands in his lap and looked down; he'd done that. "S-Sorry."

"It's not your fault. I knew this wasn't really your kind of stuff. I just… couldn't come up with many options that could be done while cooped up in a small room." Gus groaned, sounding legitimately pained. "I know it's been a week now. If you want to ask about the janitor thing, I won't- I can't say no again. But I know there has to be a better option."

Gus was trying so hard; he deserved Shawn trying just as hard. But he could be useful, and save Gus money, and not be in the way… "I c-can keep trying. I… I can be good."

He winced; the words had come out wrong. Gus didn't like when he sounded like a slave.

"This isn't about you being good or not. It's about having too much to tackle at once. That's not on you." Gus held the notebook up, showing all of the crossed off items. "This is you being 'good'. You tried all of these for me. That's all I could ask for."

Shawn looked over the list. It really was longer than he'd realized; they'd been trying things constantly. The last line caught his attention, the scribbles darker and wider than all of the others. He traced the letters he could still see and filled in the blanks. "Does… Does that say 'Solving crimes and breaking the law'?"

Gus quickly pulled the notebook back and grabbed his pen. "What? No; that's preposterous. It totally didn't say that. I have no idea why you would…" his pen scribbled the last line out even further. "... think that it would say that."

Shawn didn't argue; that wasn't his place. He also didn't agree with his master; he knew what he'd read.

"... Ok, fine. Yes." Gus closed the notebook, hiding the evidence. "But it wasn't a real option, and I only wrote it down because you've actually enjoyed both of them…" His face went blank as he stared into space. "Wait a minute… We've been looking at this all wrong."

Shawn waited, watching in interest as Gus had an epiphany right in front of him.

Gus grabbed the crossword puzzle and held it up. "Everything I've been able to come up with has been things that would work for me." He flipped the newspaper over. "But you're you."

Shawn took the offered paper and read the headline. 'Leads have gone cold for the mysterious ice pick murder.'

Gus grinned when Shawn looked back up. "I have a plan."

(Friday)

Abigail's eyebrows were drawn together when she came into the bathroom the next morning, and she signed her friendly greeting halfheartedly.

Shawn bypassed his usual answer and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm… ok." Her hands came together to clasp her towel. Shawn could still see they were shaking.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Abigail walked past him before saying quietly, "My master is going to a party."

"Are you going with?" Shawn asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes." Her shoulders tightened further in obvious fear. "It's what my master wants."

"I'm sorry." There wasn't anything else he could say. They both knew he couldn't promise nothing bad would happen.

Abigail nodded and disappeared behind the curtain.

"Rook to G4," Shawn said distractedly as heat circled his neck. He made the small movement necessary to bring the straw from his hat to his mouth and drank several gulps of water as Gus made his play.

Collar charging days were never fun, but it was infinitely better than it used to be. Gus was to thank for that.

But what about Abigail? Was she safe when she wasn't allowed to move with a cord attaching her to a wall? Was she safe now?

"Your turn. What's your move?"

Shawn barely took in the change to the board before he answered, "Pawn, C5."

"Are you sure about that?"

Shawn checked the board, realizing his pawn was blocking Gus' bishop from reaching his king. It would be captured next turn. Why should the pawn take the dive? "Yep. Pawn to C5."

Gus shrugged and moved the piece before sliding his bishop across the board. "I win." He looked up with a concerned look. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah." It was nice of Gus to ask, but Shawn couldn't break Abigail's trust. He looked around for an easy distraction and his eyes landed on the small pile of books stacked next to the sleeping bag. "Do you think it'll work?"

"I don't know." A worry line appeared between Gus' eyebrows. "It's still you sitting around a bunch, but at least you'll be learning about something you're interested in. What do you think?"

"It… sounds better than the other ideas." Shawn winced; hopefully Gus wouldn't take offense. "But it's still not useful."

"Let's be honest, a lot of the stuff I'm learning now isn't useful either, but someday it might." Gus studied the criminology book he'd checked out of the student library. "You're already great at reading people and thinking outside the box. This kind of stuff could be really useful in the future."

Sweat dripped down Shawn's neck as he raised an eyebrow, waiting for Gus to ask a question.

Gus noticed the look and asked, "What?"

"How is a slave learning to think like a cop going to be useful?"

"Really, it's more thinking like a detective," Gus said, clearly missing the point on purpose. Shawn shot him a Look, and Gus sighed. "Ok, fine. Best case scenario, we figure out how to free you and you've already got some skills to use. Otherwise… Who knows. Maybe I'll open up a P.I. office someday."

Shawn huffed a laugh. His dad hated private investigators. It'd actually be funny if he ended up being owned by one.

"I could totally be a P.I.," Gus said in mock offense. "Burton Guster, salesman detective. I think it has a nice ring to it, don't you?"

"Sure it does," Shawn agreed. "But what happens when your client is a hot lady who wants you to investigate her-"

The collar beeped in warning and Gus answered, "Easy, he's clearly cheating on her, and she should date me instead."

The collar dinged happily that it was done, and Gus moved quickly to deactivate the cuffs and turn off service mode. Shawn studied the pile of books as he waited for the cord to be unplugged. The stack included both criminology books and a week's worth of newspapers. As well as a promise of a daily newspaper going forward. Gus had bought him his own lined notebook too, one with a cover that looked like yellow crime scene tape was stretched across it. Could he actually learn something useful? Wasn't he just wasting his time when he could be helping Gus?

What would his dad think? Shawn would be following in his footsteps, but the destination would always be out of reach. Was there a point to that?

The back of his collar tugged, and the weight of the cord was removed. Shawn sat forward and continued to think, trying to understand his place in the world.

(Saturday)

Shawn waited nervously in the bathroom. Abigail was late. And he needed to know she was ok.

His legs jittered as the minutes ticked by, the innate order to go back to his master's room pulling harder with each second. He still waited, his hand clenched around the handle of the shower tote. One more minute. He'd wait one more minute…

The door opened, and his heart shot to his throat before he saw that it was Abigail instead of a free person. He scanned her quickly, seeing red circular marks under her ear, the way her arms were pulled tight around herself, and the way she avoided looking at him. She hadn't been ignored at the party.

Hot anger flared in him as she kept her eyes down and walked past him. Her master hadn't seemed cruel, but clearly they hadn't protected her. Gus would have protected her.

Her hand moved, two fingers moving away from her chest before hiding in a fist. He nodded in understanding as he recognized the sign. She knew he was there, but she wasn't able -or allowed– to talk.

She disappeared in the shower, and he waited for the water to start running before he slid a bag of chips under the curtain.

He would have protected her too.