A/N: Updates will be biweekly from now on. I got a new therapist, and she's good at her job. A bit too good... My brain's been very busy on non-fiction things.

Also, the opening flashback doesn't have any official warnings, but it seems a good time to remind y'all that flashbacks are never required reading.

(6 years ago)

"What are you?"

A young voice reluctantly answered, "I'm a slave."

"Are slaves people?"

"...No."

"Are you a person?"

The voice turned stubborn. "Yes."

A buzz sounded out followed by a faint whimper.

"Wrong answer, slave. Let's try again. What are you?"

"I'm a slave."

"You mostly got that one down. Now it's time for the other one. You're a slave, and slaves ain't people. So… Tell me what you ain't."

The silence following the order was broken by a beep then another buzz. And another.

"A person," the voice finally gritted out.

"A slave doesn't think; it does as its told. A slave that doesn't do what its told gets the water bucket. Say the whole sentence."

A hitched sob was followed by the words, "I'm not a person."

Another painful buzz filled the air, louder than all of the others.

"Slaves don't lie. Ya gotta mean it. Say it again."

The young voice broke as it said, "I'm not a person."

The collar buzzed.

"Say it again."

"I'm not a person."

Buzz.

"Again."

(Present)

[Hi Rowan,

Here's the start of our private talk. I liked the idea, but wasn't sure if it was ok. So I checked with Shawn, and he said it was fine. Or, rather, he looked at me like I was an idiot for asking him in the first place. It's a common occurrence for us.

I know you probably asked for this because you have your own things you need to talk about. But since I'm the one starting this, I'll go first:

When I was growing up, we were taught about slavery. How it started, how it came to America, how it changed after the Equality Amendment… But it was always the good things. Like how it allowed people to help society when they normally couldn't, or how much technology has grown because of us developing the collars. How our world wouldn't be what it is today if it wasn't for the 'hard working slaves'.

But if that's the case… then why do we treat them like we do? There's no reason to treat them like animals, or for them to not have any rights, or for people to be born into it. Abigail didn't even have a chance to be a 'productive member of society'. Shawn barely had a chance and he was just a kid when it was decided he wasn't good enough. And the more I look around, the more I see it everywhere. It's overwhelming.

I don't suppose you've noticed this? And if so, how have you handled it? I've been trying to look closer to home to see what I can do to help. In some ways that you wouldn't believe even if I told you. But it never feels like enough.

Honestly? I've thought about deleting this about five times now. I'm going to be late for my next lecture, and you probably have too many things to think about as it is. Need to talk about family stuff? Or Abigail?

Thanks, and feel free to ignore this or tell me I'm overthinking or that I'm just messed up. It's fine.

Gus]

The laptop in Gus' backpack pulled heavily on his shoulders as he approached their dorm room. It was ridiculous to expect a response from Rowan yet, but he'd been nervously refreshing his email all during his last lecture. Maybe they'd answered in the fifteen minutes it took to walk from the lecture hall to the dorms…

All thoughts of checking for a message went out the window when Gus opened the door and saw Shawn standing on the other side, tap shoes in one hand and his sketchbook in the other.

"We should go to the dance rooms again," Shawn said, speaking so quickly that Gus barely understood him.

Gus blinked at him in confusion until his brain managed to parse the sentence's meaning. Where had that come from? "I still have homework for tomorrow to finish up…"

"You don't have any more classes today, and you'll have time for that later." Shawn set his jaw stubbornly. "You're too stressed, and the dancing helped last time."

Gus eased himself the rest of the way into the room and let the door close behind him. Shawn was treading dangerously close to giving his master orders, something that still only happened when he felt like it was his only option.

Had Gus really been acting that stressed recently?

The answer seemed to be a resounding 'yes' as Shawn stayed where he was while Gus put his bag away. "Shawn, I'm fine. I've just had a lot on my mind…"

"Even Rowan knows you're too stressed, and they're hours away. I'm not moving until you agree."

Gus raised an eyebrow and had to fight an ugly impulse to order Shawn to move just to prove he could.

Shawn raised a challenging eyebrow back. "It gets me out of the room, it helps me feel useful, and it would make me happy."

Well that was just downright manipulative. But Shawn did have a point, and was Gus really in any position to say no? Who was he to deny a choice Shawn was making? Even if he was only making it because he still thought it was a slave's job to take care of his master…. "Fine, let me check one thing really quick then we can go."

Shawn lit up and immediately sat down to pull on his shoes. Gus emptied his backpack and opened his laptop. His inbox still showed 0 unread emails. He logged out and slid the laptop back into the bag, where it was quickly joined by the tap shoes and the sketchbook.

"Time to Travolta it up," Shawn said as he slung the backpack over his shoulders.

Despite his best efforts, Gus couldn't stop his small smile as he grabbed the leash. "This dancing's not dirty. It's more Gregory Hines."

Shawn let out a low whistle. "Now that one's obscure."

"Maybe to you."

Gus led them into the hallway, leaving his obligations and responsibilities behind. They'd still be there when he got back; for now he needed to hang out with his friend.

[Hey Gus,

I'm glad you agreed to do the private email thing. I, uh, didn't ask Abigail first. I know for a fact that she wouldn't tell me to not do anything though. Which is… probably not the point. I'll have to find a way to slip it into a conversation sometime soon. I know the look you're talking about, I've gotten it a few times too. Then she realizes it, apologies, and is very quiet for the rest of the day. Hopefully Shawn doing it so often is an omen that she'll get more comfortable with it too. She has a kinda quiet sass that's super cool when she lets me see it.

For the stuff you talked about… that's heavy. I had to think about it for a while, which is partly why it took a few days to get back to you. Sorry. This is an explanation, not something to make you feel bad, but I've had so much going on in my life recently that I haven't actually had time to think about anything else. So, I can't say I've seen/thought the same things.

But you do also have a point. It's obvious that society needs 'slave' and 'people' to be a complete dichotomy instead of it being the same people who are sorted into two different boxes. Then you get the power imbalance going and things go downhill fast. It becomes a feature, not a bug.

I've seen how you treat Shawn, you've changed how I treat Abigail, I bet you've changed other people around you too without realizing it. (And you've really gotta stop vaguebooking what you guys are doing because my curiosity is KILLING me). That's how society changes, right? Everyone doing what they can in their own little circle? Millions upon billions of people have made this system; one person would go mad if they tried to change it all on their own.

I know nothing I said was groundbreaking rocket science or anything, but hopefully it helps to hear it from a 3rd party.

This email is getting pretty long, so I'll keep the family drama for another day. But I need your perspective (and Shawn's, if he's willing). Abigail and I've talked a bit about Valentine's Day, mostly using it as a conversation starter. I can't swing taking off of work to bring her down to you guys, and I'm guessing you'd have a hard time getting wheels to come up here. Which sucks, it'd be cute for them to see each other again (on that day in particular...). But there's other kinds of love to talk about too, right? She's told me a bit about her mom, and I think I might have enough information to track her down…

Obviously I wouldn't be able to do anything drastic like buy her, but I might be able to swing letting Abigail visit her. It seems like a good idea to me, but even small things are sending Abigail into a tailspin at the moment. I don't want to bring this up unless it has the best chance of being a good thing and not another 'that's not how slaves work' thing.

Thoughts?

Rowan]

The laptop keyboard slowly clicked behind Gus as he finished up a worksheet. It had been two days since he'd replied to Rowan, and Abigail had just written back. Gus' attention kept wandering as he tried to imagine what she'd said and what Shawn was currently typing.

It hadn't taken long for Gus to realize that he didn't have enough knowledge to answer Rowan's question without bringing Shawn into it. Finding Abigail's mother definitely had a lot of risks involved –what if she was dead, what if she was hurting, what if she didn't acknowledge Abigail's existence?- but telling her about the possibility seemed like an obvious first step.

But Gus was a free person; there were probably all sorts of things that he hadn't thought of. So, that night he'd slowly eased Shawn into the conversation and then brought up Rowan's idea. Shawn's reaction had been interesting; he'd looked almost angry at first before shaking his head and returning to his normal self.

Apparently Abigail had opened up about her mother a few times, including wishing to know if she was alright. It was the clearest answer they were going to get, and Gus had answered Rowan right away.

His answer had also included several more reasons for why he should feel like he wasn't doing enough. But even then, he could feel how Rowan's words had lightened his load. So many people around him thought slavery was fine; he hadn't realized how badly he'd needed someone else to confirm that it was messed up.

Gus' pen tapped against the paper he'd been staring through for five minutes, and he finally gave up. It wasn't due for two more days; he could finish it tomorrow. Instead, he turned his thoughts to another set of questions as he watched Shawn hunt for a second before pressing another key.

Abigail could find her mother, but what about Shawn? He'd talked about his father several times, but the only thing Gus knew about his mother was that she hadn't been in the picture by the time Shawn was collared. Was she dead too?

He'd fought with himself several times, but ultimately he knew he couldn't look it up online. It wasn't his to know before Shawn decided it was. But the thought kept nagging at him. Shawn deserved at least some form of closure.

Shawn clicked the mouse button one last time and closed the laptop with a satisfying click. "She's definitely nervous, but she agreed to do it. And she says that it's good."

"That's good."

"Yeah…" Shawn's fingers drummed on the closed laptop as he stared off into the distance.

"Everything alright?" Gus asked before he could stop himself. It wasn't fair for him to be asking questions when Shawn was looking vulnerable…

Shawn shrugged. "Just thinking."

Gus clamped down on his curiosity when Shawn didn't elaborate further. It wasn't his to know. Instead, he tentatively brought up his other thought. "I've actually been wondering if you'd want to do something similar." As Shawn's eyes snapped up in alarm, Gus quickly added, "For your dad, I mean. I know it's not the same, but we could visit his grave. If you wanted."

Shawn looked taken aback, like the possibility hadn't ever occurred to him. And why would it have? Slaves weren't allowed to have pasts or family connections.

There was an obvious war going on behind Shawn's eyes as he eventually asked, "Can… Can I think about it?"

The fact that he was even asking was such a huge step. "Of course. Take all of the time you need."

Gus deliberately turned back to his homework, giving Shawn space to sort through his emotions.

[Hey Gus!

So, Shawn's idea was really good. I got as much information as I could before I talked to Abigail about her mom and she was definitely overwhelmed, but I think in a good way? Ends up her mom's still at the same place she was when Abigail was born. Which is promising, since she wasn't, you know, beaten black and blue back then… So it's looking like Abigail will be visiting her first home as well as her mom. Which I'm strangely nervous about? She doesn't seem to have bad memories about that time, but she's also REALLY good at hiding that kind of stuff.

Once she agreed, I reached out to the family who owns the place. They were super confused, but I made up some bullshit about wanting to 'inspect the source of the stock'. And y'know, you're absolutely right. The way we talk about slaves is APPALLING. I think they figure I'm some quirky rich tech bro or something, but they eventually agreed. So we've got a twenty minute meet this Saturday… I'm hoping we'll be left alone with her, but if not I figure I can pull the free person off to the side to ask them some stuff to give Abigail some time. They probably won't think twice about leaving two slaves together.

For the privilege thing… Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way. You're looking at what you're doing and what else you could possibly do, right? Why not look at it the other way? If you went full Jesus-mode, take the shirt off your back, sell all your possessions, wander around like a vagabond… What could you actually achieve? Do you even have enough resources to buy another slave with all of that (Much less keep them, you, and Shawn fed after selling everything you have…)? Do you have enough to influence a politician or make a meaningful difference in whatever activist groups there are? (Are there any?) If you quit college, never slept, turned robot… Could you even start an activist group that would make any difference?

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you'd end up collared yourself before you made any significantly different change than what you're already doing now. I'm not saying to stop trying, just maybe see what you're already doing.

And figure out how to be comfortable with the fact that you want to do more, but currently can't. Like… Ok, this isn't the best analogy, but it's what I've got. I want things to make sense. If everything's an equation, then everything can be solved. But there's too many things that don't work like that, so that part of me is never going to be resolved. But it doesn't mean it's not still a part of me, and it helps drive me to make things make sense whenever I can. I just have to also accept the fact that I only have so much processing power and there's some things that'll never make sense. Dangit, that all made more sense in my head than now with it typed up… I dunno, maybe it'll help. You're a good person, you're making a good difference. Just try to not hate yourself for just being a mere human, y'know?

I really, really hope the cemetery visit goes good. I think that sounds so hard, but maybe really healing. The last time he was there was for the funeral, right? I obviously don't know him well, but I'd imagine there'd be a big gap between his life as a free person and his life as a slave. I mean, I even have that gap just from getting kicked out; it's gotta be so much worse with his situation. Maybe standing where he'd stood as a free person can help mesh them together a bit better. I hope that's a good thing, anyways… Let me know how it goes. Good OR bad.

You guys are going first, so… good luck!

Rowan]

Two days later, Gus and Shawn rode the bus to the cemetery. A cool breeze brushed by Gus' face as he stepped onto the sidewalk, the only sound around them the rumble of the bus as it drove away. Gus took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that the thick air was the same air as anywhere else.

Cemeteries always gave him the creeps.

But they weren't here for him, and Shawn definitely didn't need to hear any ghost stories. Not when he looked like he was about to meet one, with his face drawn and his eyes darting about.

Gus checked around them one last time before reaching up and unhooking the leash. He shrugged at Shawn's surprised look and led the way through the gate. "It didn't seem right."

Shawn quietly caught back up and stayed close, nodding towards the back corner. "He's… It's… The grave's over there."

They didn't say anything as they walked, even their footsteps seeming disrespectfully loud compared to the deathly silence surrounding them. Gus scanned the names and dates carved into the cold gravestones. Some young, some old, some with fresh flowers, others already fading to the sands of time.

No matter who they were when they were alive, they all ended up in the same place.

Gus glanced over as the sun gleamed off of Shawn's collar. That wasn't quite true. Slaves didn't get gravestones. They didn't get to be remembered.

"Over there," Shawn murmured, unaware of Gus' thoughts.

Gus looked to where Shawn had indicated, finding a simple square headstone with the name 'Henry W. Spencer' carved over the years '1957-1991'. He would have been forty this year.

The fact hurt; Shawn should have had so many more years with his dad. He should have had so many years of freedom.

Shawn seemed to be hurting too, his face blank as he stared at the stone. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in Gus' chest, making him feel like an intruder. How could Shawn find a connection with his past when his master was standing right next to him? "I can give you some space…"

Gus took a step back only to be stopped by Shawn's headshake. "Don't want anyone to think I'm running."

"...Oh." Gus' hand brushed by the lump in his pocket where the leash was coiled up. He'd been naive to think that taking it off would give Shawn any amount of dignity.

"You know, I never really understood graveyard scenes," Shawn said, clearly forcing his voice to be light. "Like, it looks great for the cameras and all, but what are you even supposed to do?"

"Talk, think, remember. Whatever you want to do."

"Yeah, but why here? It's not like he's just sitting on the stone, waiting for me to explain why I cheated on the last test I ever took." Shawn scuffed his shoe in the grass, his eyes distant. "He's mostly just bones now, anyway. A body'll fully decompose in only a decade."

That was a fact that Gus definitely did not need to know. "I guess… It's proof that he was here. Something you can see and touch to try to be close to him."

Shawn snorted. "Dad didn't do 'close'." His eyes stayed locked on the gravestone and he didn't make any move to leave.

Gus stood with him quietly, holding vigil for as long as Shawn needed.

It was several minutes before Shawn spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically small. "He always had high expectations. 'Good enough is for suckers and losers.' At least he can't see me now…"

That wasn't acceptable; no one was allowed to bully Shawn. Not even Shawn. "He'd see someone who overcame things that would have broken most people. He'd see how smart and strong you are. He'd see that even with everything stacked against you, you're still finding ways to make your mark on the world. He definitely wouldn't see a 'sucker' or 'loser'."

Shawn's lips twitched up into a small smile. "I think he would have liked you."

"I wish I could have met him," Gus said sincerely.

"Me too…" Shawn let out a sigh and walked up to the gravestone, his hand reaching out to skim along the top. He suddenly froze, his eyes locked on something near the ground.

A sense of foreboding doom froze Gus in place as Shawn bent down and picked up a simple penny. Judging by Shawn's tight shoulders, it was anything but lucky.

Shawn continued to stare at the coin, his face darkening in an expression Gus had never seen before. A pained yell ripped itself through the cemetery as Shawn whipped his arm back and threw the penny with all of his might. His chest heaved as he stared after it, his hands clenching into fists. He abruptly spun around and stalked past Gus, his voice acidic as he spat out, "I'm done here."

Gus gave the gravestone one more look before rushing after Shawn, the ghosts of the past looming over them, casting shadows in their wake.

Shawn hid behind his slave-mask all the way to the dorm, keeping himself tightly controlled. Gus wasn't fooled for a second; a pipe bomb looked perfectly controlled too right before it exploded. Shawn proved him right the second the leash came off as he immediately spun around and started to pace like a trapped tiger.

Maybe coming back to their room had been a mistake… Gus had thought Shawn needed a safe space, but judging by his frantic movements, it might have been better to find a trail instead. Gus sidled over to his desk, keeping an eye out for any way he could help. Shawn looked like a slight breeze could either send him into a frothing rage or break him into a thousand pieces.

Shawn didn't seem to notice the scrutiny, his pacing becoming even more agitated as his hands continuously clenched and unclenched. He let out a low growl as he reached the end of the room and jerked his body back around. Words spat from his lips as he kept moving. "Could travel halfway across the world for a gravestone, but not a funeral. 'Course, gotta get the last word in. Leave a penny for good luck, but it wouldn't be good luck if he actually had to do something. Oh no, can't have that. Better to just ignore it and hope someone else picks up the slack. Who needs a funeral when there's an ancient tomb to make a story up about…"

Shawn didn't seem to realize he was talking, the words coming out just as frantic as his movements. Gus' heart hurt, knowing that all he could do was wait and make sure Shawn didn't do anything that would hurt himself.

"Least he had the common decency to keep his phone number the same. Halfway across the world; makes for a better excuse than halfway across the country. 'Your brother died, his kid's still here, you want him?' Of course he didn't want him. Can't adventure with that dead weight, let someone else do it. Always someone else. There should have been…"

Shawn hesitated, his eyes looking unseeing through the window as a flash of despair crossed his face. He shook his head and the anger returned along with his pacing. "Why would she? Washed her hands of it years ago, got free, why go back? New state, new job… new phone. Her life had 'finally begun'. Call for a birthday, call for Christmas, oops, guess he died. No need to call again." His voice got progressively louder. "Let someone else do it, always someone else. Gotta go back to work, gotta go on an adventure, gotta run into a fucking burning building!"

Shawn froze, his back to Gus as the yelled words rang through the small room. Gus barely dared to breathe, his own anger boiling at what he'd just heard. Shawn had still had family. And they'd let him go into the system.

"Dad was always working," Shawn said in a low voice, still unmoving. "Case files on the dining room table, calls to his partner on the way to school, bringing me to the station to do my homework… But he was always there." He took a shaky breath before continuing. "There were only cops at his funeral. Cops and a social worker."

"You deserved better," Gus said in the ensuing silence.

"It was just a normal day," Shawn continued, sounding like he was in a trance. "The last thing I told Dad was that the cafeteria food was probably poisoned, and he told me to come back when I had evidence. The school got the call during PE. A perp thought torching the detectives and the evidence at the same time would get him in the clear. Locked them in. Dad managed to break them out; the report said Carp was barely conscious. Got hit on the head or something. But Dad had seen someone else, even with all of the smoke. He went back in."

The urge to help, to do something became too strong. Gus slowly approached Shawn, offering whatever comfort he could with his presence. "It sounds like he was a hero."

"He was Dad." Shawn turned towards Gus, his eyes glistening. "Part of the evidence in the house was the slave the perp had used as a mule. Dad got her, ordered her to move… The roof came down, but not before he shoved her out of the way."

"I'm sorry," Gus said, his voice rough as his throat tightened in sympathy. It had to be so hard, to know that a decision to save a slave had resulted in Shawn becoming one himself.

Shawn nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. Then something changed, a subtle shift as he set his jaw and pulled his shoulders back. His gaze rose up and the burning intensity took Gus' breath away.

"He didn't die saving 'just a slave'," Shawn said with fierce conviction. "He died saving a person."