The lecture hall had plenty to see. The professor pacing in the front of the class and using a laser pointer on her powerpoint slides. The students taking notes with varying levels of interest. The slaves kneeling next to Shawn. It should have been plenty to take Shawn's mind off of his feelings.

His mother used to try to talk about his feelings. She'd sit him down and psychoanalyze everything he said like she actually cared. Hot anger burned in his veins, and Shawn clenched his hands to bleed some of it off. At least the anger was easier to control than the emptiness.

And all of them were easier to control when there were other people around. He needed to not be seen or heard. But it was apparently one of those days where the feelings were wanting to come out whether he liked it or not.

A shrill bell ring signaled the end of the class, and Gus was the first owner to reach the back. "Shawn, take this and follow me."

Shawn followed the order, taking the offered backpack as his anger was eclipsed by an ache in his chest that ridiculously made him want to ask for a hug. What was wrong with him?

"Hey, Gus! Wait up!"

Gus' shoulders tightened before he answered with a forced light voice, "Hi, Molly."

A cute girl with a dazzling smile caught up with Gus. "I didn't see you at the party last week. And you never called…"

Shawn suddenly became much more interested in the conversation. Gus had managed to get a girl's number?

"Sorry," Gus answered. "It's not that I don't like you; I've just had a lot going on."

Shawn's stomach churned as guilt added to all of his emotions. Gus wouldn't be too busy if it wasn't for him.

"Well, there's another party next week. Maybe I'll see you there?"

"...Maybe."

Molly waved and turned down another sidewalk to her next class. Gus' shoulders stayed hunched as though protecting himself from Shawn's judgement.

"You should go."

"I didn't ask you," Gus snapped.

Shawn's anger answered in kind. "The only reason you're not going is because you don't want to leave me alone."

"No, the reason is so I'm not caught doing something illegal and ruining everything. You're welcome."

Oh.

Shawn stayed quiet for the rest of the walk. He should have thought of that; it was obvious. He needed to get himself under control so he could stay focused.

Gus sighed as they reached the next building and led them to a quiet corner. "Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that. I know you're probably going through something if you asked to come with today… You ok?"

He couldn't let Gus worry. He was fed, he wasn't hurting, and he wasn't afraid. "Yes, I'm ok."

"Uh-huh… It'd make me happy if you told the truth."

That was a low blow. Shawn stubbornly answered, "I said I'm ok."

"It's really obvious that you're not…" Gus sighed again, the sound laden with the weight of the world. "There's two more classes then a break. You should stay in the dorm after the break so you don't have to go to Chemistry."

A spike of fear joined the cacophony and Shawn just nodded in acknowledgement. Being alone with his thoughts was scary, but being in the same room as his old master would be even worse.

Gus sounded resigned as he said, "Ok, let's go."

Shawn really needed to figure out how to control himself again. For Gus' sake.

Gus had a headache. And it was all Calculus' fault.

He glared at the textbook and the answer that was definitely not the same answer he'd come up with. What did a line touching a circle have to do with any of this anyway? It didn't make sense.

Math, of all things, should make sense.

"Need a distraction before you set the book on fire?" Shawn asked from where he'd been scanning the latest newspaper.

Gus only growled in response as he tackled the problem again. He could figure this out. It wasn't his fault that the professor didn't know how to teach it right. Or that he'd only been half-paying attention in lecture for the last few weeks…

He worked on the new equation, double checking all of his steps. And still getting the wrong answer. Damnit.

"Need a distraction after setting the book on fire?"

"I'm too busy for a distraction," Gus answered as he scribbled out the equation hard enough to tear the paper. He had three subject's worth of homework, a lecture to catch up on, and somewhere between now and bedtime he needed to look up ways to get an emotionally constipated slave to actually talk about his feelings before they were both woken up by another nightmare. And that was all assuming the cops didn't call them to drop everything for another case.

His headache grew. It was all Calculus' fault. He missed when math made sense.

He missed when anything made sense.

"You've been working on that problem for twenty minutes," Shawn unhelpfully pointed out.

"I've almost got it."

"You could take a break."

"No, I need to figure it out first."

"It'll still be there after–"

"I said I've almost got it!" Gus snapped. "And I'd be able to get it a lot faster if you'd just shut–" He just barely cut himself off before finishing the order. Damnit, damnit.

The collar might not have activated, but Shawn was still frozen in place, looking like he didn't know whether to kneel or not. Triple damnit. What had Gus been thinking?

Gus forced himself to take a deep calming breath. It wasn't Shawn's fault that he was stressed. Well, it sort of was. But it wasn't Shawn's fault. "Sorry. You're not in trouble. I shouldn't have said that."

Shawn nodded but didn't answer, following the unspoken order. Gus just barely suppressed a groan; he really needed to get his homework done… but he also really needed to make this right.

It was obvious which one he needed to choose. Ever since their last case, Shawn had been struggling. Some days he acted completely normal, but others he'd been uncharacteristically quiet and only speaking when spoken to. The nightmares were getting worse again too. And no matter what Gus said or did, Shawn refused to talk about it.

Shawn needed help.

And here Gus was, worrying about homework.

He internally sighed and slowly walked across the room to sit on the floor. "So, if the book happened to catch on fire… we'd need a way to not set off the alarms."

"Sorry," Shawn answered in a small voice.

It had been too much to hope that Gus could fix it that easily. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry."

"I'm always too much for people."

"Not for me," Gus said firmly as he tried to believe it. He had too much to do, but it wasn't because Shawn was too much. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"You can get rid of me…"

It still sent a stab of pain through Gus' soul whenever Shawn said that fear out loud. "With how many people I've argued against for you? Not likely. You know I'm too stubborn for that."

Shawn's lips twitched into a small smile; even his scared logic couldn't argue against that. "You could throw the book out the window after setting it on fire."

"Hmm…" Gus gave the option real thought. "That seems like it'd cause more problems than it would-"

His phone buzzed, cutting off the conversation.

Gus' stomach dropped; he'd just diffused one situation… now what? He cursed under his breath and answered the call, "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Burton, dear. How are you?"

How could such a simple question grate on his nerves so much? "Fine. What's up?"

"I know it's short notice, but your father just managed to arrange a meeting with a very important client."

"Mom, I can't–"

"So we'll need you home tomorrow. I'll pick you up after your classes."

"We were just there for Easter," Gus snapped, his stress unloading on someone who actually deserved it. "I do actually have my own life, you know."

"Fine. Then we'll pick up Shawn tomorrow after your classes."

"You don't just get to take him whenever you feel like it."

"Actually, I think you'll remember that I can."

Hell wasn't far enough for everything he wanted to damn. He had to keep Shawn safe and she fucking knew it. "Fine. We'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up the call before she could say anything else. "Forget the book. I know a really nice purse we could burn instead…"

The silence in the car was tense enough to shatter with just a single tap. And part of Shawn was hoping it would. At least then he'd have something to focus on besides his thoughts.

Would Gus be able to keep it together this weekend? He'd been snappy all week and was refusing any attempt Shawn made at getting him to take a break. How long would it take for the Gusters to learn about the contract for freedom? Mrs. Guster needed the threat of selling him to keep Gus in line; she wouldn't like that they were taking that away. Would Shawn be able to keep it together this weekend? Easter had been hard enough, and he hadn't had to serve anyone that time.

Familiar houses passed by and Shawn kept himself busy with cataloguing everything that had changed since their last visit. He couldn't change what was about to happen; he just had to stay calm. Slaves didn't fidget. Slaves did as they were told.

Mrs. Guster finally spoke. "Your father came home early; he'll be happy to see you. We've both been worried."

"If you were so worried then you wouldn't be making me waste a night with a stupid client."

The Guster's house came into view, the garage door open and inviting. Mrs. Guster's voice was clipped as she answered, "Yes, well… There isn't a client."

"What?!"

The car stopped in the garage and Mrs. Guster ordered, "Shawn, out."

"No. Shawn, you don't have to get out," Gus immediately argued. "Don't order him around. What's going on?"

"As long as I'm paying for the roof over your head and the food in your belly, I can still tell you what to do. So I can tell your slave what to do. Shawn, out. Burton, keep your ass in this car."

Shawn stayed frozen with his hand on the door handle; what was he supposed to do?

Gus' anger helped answer that as he snapped out, "I know you don't like it, but I am an adult now and I don't need…"

Shawn's feet touched the garage floor and he immediately closed the door before Gus could give any orders. Maybe a good yell would help Gus, but Shawn being there was just going to make it worse. The car pulled away while Gus was still mid-rant, and Shawn tried to convince himself that he didn't feel any guilt for Gus' look of betrayal.

Though Shawn wasn't completely out of the woods… Mr. Guster stood in the doorway to the house, quietly watching the commotion. Shawn fell into attention; this had been a planned attack. What was going on?

"Come on inside. We need to talk."

"Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?" Gus asked as the car sped up too much for him to jump out.

"I need to talk to you. Somewhere no one can listen in," his mother answered firmly. She kept her eyes on the road, no longer yelling now she had what she wanted.

"Talk to me about what?" This could go so bad… Did she know about the contract? Was she going to ruin it? Was he going to actually have to walk away from his family?

His mother didn't answer, and the road passed by as Gus fought against his panic. They'd worked so hard, he'd been so careful, he'd done so much.

He gasped as another jolt of adrenaline went through him. "I still have Shawn's remote."

"We're only going to the edge of the neighborhood. He'll be fine."

But would they be fine? What was going on?

"Are you hungry or thirsty?" Mr. Guster asked as he led Shawn into the living room.

That wasn't how most bad conversations started… "No, sir."

"Good. You're not in trouble; please sit."

This was a bad conversation, right? "You want me to sit on the couch, sir?"

Maybe it was a test.

"Yes."

Or not. Shawn tentatively sat on the couch, keeping his weight forward so he could fall to his knees quickly. Was this about the cops? Were they going to take him away from Gus?

Mr. Guster sat in the arm chair across from him and started, "Winnie and I have noticed that Burton seems quite stressed. We were waiting to see how he handled it… and then Easter happened."

Shawn winced; while Gus had stayed polite with the extended family, he'd argued from sun up to sun down with his parents. It was part of why he'd convinced Gus to take a day off once they were back on campus.

"We wanted to know what you've been doing to help him."

It was the right question to ask. His master shouldn't be this stressed if Shawn was actually doing his job… "I keep his room clean and make coffee every morning, sir. I do as many of the chores as he lets me, I remind him when he's about to miss a meal, and I carry his backpack when he takes me to his classes."

Hopefully that would be enough to keep him out of trouble without shifting any blame to Gus.

"Alright, that's not terrible, but it doesn't explain what has Burton so wound up. Why don't you walk me through what a typical day looks like."

Gus was wound up because he was trying to free his slave instead of focusing on his learning. Which Shawn would never be able to pay him back for. "Yes, sir. I wake up at six so I can get ready before he wakes up. His alarm goes off at 6:30…"

Of all the places for Gus' mother to end the world at, his grandmother's old nursing home definitely wouldn't have made the list. "Are you going to tell me what's going on now? Why are we here?"

"Yes, now we can talk." His mother parked the car and answered, "And we're here because this is where I nearly divorced your father fifteen years ago."

Gus' jaw dropped. What- Why- His parents had nearly divorced?

"Specifically, in that spot." His mother pointed to a spot closer to the door where a wheelchair accessible bus was parked. "Shortly after you were born, your grandmother took a turn for the worse. We wanted to move her into a place like this, but she wouldn't hear nothing of it. 'Just give me the TV clicker and a bucket' she'd say."

So much confusion and relief and confusion swirled around in Gus' head. "Ok… So kidnapping me was just to go down memory lane?"

"No. It's to stop you from making the same mistake he almost did all those years ago. He was still making a name for himself and working long hours, then he'd stop by his mother's to take care of her before coming home. Where you were hollering just as loudly as you do now…" His mother sighed as she looked out across the parking lot and the years gone by. "He was stressed and overloaded and snapping at anyone he was close to. Sound familiar?"

"I don't always snap at everyone," Gus defended himself. The snappiness just meant he had to control himself better so his problems didn't become other people's problems.

"Bill didn't either. He kept bottling it in, thinking he had to provide for everyone except himself. I finally had enough when he had to go back to his mother's house three times in one day. I brought him here and told him he had to choose which family he was actually responsible for."

"Wha… You made him home grandma?"

"No. I made him face the fact that he couldn't do it all and he was killing himself trying to." His mother's eyes glistened and her voice was thick with emotion as she said, "I love him. And I would have rather raised the two of you on my own than watch him tear himself apart trying to be in too many places at once. Just like you're trying to do now."

Mr. Guster's questions weren't getting any easier to answer.

"How much time does Burton spend on homework?"

"It depends on the day, sir." Depending on if he was working with the cops or not.

"Does he have time for his hobbies?"

"He makes time for dance, sir. And comics." As long as Mr. Guster didn't ask how much time.

"How often does he hang out with friends?"

"Several times a week, sir." Gus did think hanging out with Shawn was the same as hanging out with a friend.

Mr. Guster sounded reluctant as he asked his next question. "How much time does he spend trying to make you act like a friend instead of a slave?"

Gus didn't make him act like a friend… But Mr. Guster wouldn't believe him. "I know my place, sir."

"That wasn't what I asked."

A tension grew in Shawn's mind. He wasn't being good. "No, sir, it wasn't."

Mr. Guster chuckled at the side-stepped answer. He would have been in his right to punish Shawn for not cooperating. "I suppose I can't be too mad at you trying to protect Burton."

"I'm sorry, sir. I know it's a slave's job to look after his master."

Mr. Guster sighed, like he'd failed Gus too. "Yeah. But he doesn't think of you as a slave, now, does he?"

"No, sir."

"I am not tearing myself apart!" Gus argued.

"You couldn't even answer your phone without trying to bite my head off."

"Because I was busy."

"Too busy. You were wound up tight all through summer and it's only gotten worse since you left home."

That was a very dangerous turn for this conversation. "I'm not arguing about Shawn with you."

"You're doing Too. Much," his mother said like she'd walk to the gallows before entertaining the idea that she might be wrong. "And anyone with eyes can see it. I know I can't make you see reason with Shawn, but it doesn't matter. I'm still your mother and I can still make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"I am taking care of myself!" A twinge of guilt informed Gus that he wasn't telling the full truth. He ignored it. "And unless you want me to drop out of college, then there isn't anything else I can give up."

"That is not an option. What else are you trying to carry besides school?"

Gus crossed his arms. "I don't have to tell you."

"Yes, you–" she cut herself off with a sharp sigh and rubbed her forehead. When she continued, it was much more controlled. "Fine. At least list it all in your head."

The fact that she'd actually stopped herself had Gus making the list. He needed to go to lectures, get Shawn out of the dorm, help with the cops, get good grades on his homework, research things to help Shawn, go home and be a good son, study for exams and finals, hang out in the dorm and be a good friend, help with nightmares, keep them both fed and taken care of, be a good master, keep up with his notes to Rowan, keep up with the crises that kept popping up, keep planning for when the next crisis popped up, always be ready for a phone call to disrupt all of his plans that day… His heart hammered in his chest. It really was too much.

His mother watched with knowing eyes. "Now, how much of that list had Shawn on it?"

Realization rushed through Gus; how dare she? "Oh my god, you're still trying to get me to let you keep Shawn!"

"I am not–" his mother cut herself off with a tight smile and forced chuckle. "Lord give me strength… You are doing too much. And he is the reason why."

"I don't care. You're not taking him." Shawn's chance at freedom was the most important thing on that list. "You might have forced Dad to give up on Grandma, but it won't work on me."

"I didn't force your father to–"

"You said–"

"I told him to stop stretching himself too thin. His mother made the choice to move here once he stopped trying to do it all. You keep saying Shawn is a person… So, according to you, he can handle some of his problems on his own."

She seriously thought it was that simple? "I can't. He doesn't know how. I have to figure out what will actually work for him, how to teach it, talk him through it… And that's even if I can convince him to do whatever I find! I can't even get him to–" Damnit, how had he allowed himself to say that much? Shawn's emotions were personal; they weren't Gus' to tell.

His mother studied him, probably deciding which of the arsenal of weapons he'd just given her would be the deadliest. "You say he doesn't know how to handle his problems. How do you know how to?"

Gus stared at her in confusion, still braced for a mental hit that hadn't come. "I don't know how… I research a lot and figure the rest out."

"And why can't Shawn do that?" The world tilted on its axis as his mother asked obvious things that he'd never thought of before. "I've seen him read recipes, so he'd be able to read the same 'research' you do. If you think he's capable of being a person, then why don't you think he's capable of that?"

Gus didn't have an answer.

Shawn fought to not fidget as he was stared at. Mr. Guster wasn't wrong; Gus was too stressed. And it was Shawn's fault. For a lot of reasons. But Shawn couldn't regret it when it had helped him so much. He didn't think Gus regretted it either.

"You know, I saw you two walking in the neighborhood last time you were here. Even watched you shift back to attention when you got close to our home."

A chill ran down Shawn's back; he should have noticed they were being watched. "I'm sorry, sir. I–"

"It was an observation, not a reprimand." Mr. Guster studied him for another long few seconds. "I expect you to answer this truthfully, and if I find out you bent the truth, you will regret it. How much of it is an act?"

It was a trap. Shawn's mind burst into action, tracing all of the possible answers as he bought himself more time. "I don't understand the question, sir."

"Of course you do. You were smiling and talking with Burton like you were old pals. How much of that is an act?"

Mr. Guster wouldn't believe the truth and any lie was too risky. The question had landmines on top of landmines. Shawn's heart pounded as he gave the safest answer he knew. "A slave becomes whatever it's… his master wants, sir."

Mr. Guster sounded suspicious as he asked, "And how does that work when the master wants the slave to be a person?"

It worked with sheer stubbornness, messy confusion, and a bucketful of pure Gus weirdness. The tension in his mind screamed as Shawn sidestepped another question. "I don't lie to him, sir."

"But do you tell him the truth?"

It was the more important question. Shawn pushed past his training and looked up to meet Mr. Guster's eyes. "Yes."

Mr. Guster held the gaze for several seconds, searching for something on Shawn's face. He didn't seem to know what to do with whatever he saw. "Well, give the boy credit where credit's due… He always did like a good puzzle. What is he trying to teach you right now?"

Confusion shorted out Shawn's brain with a burst of terror. That wasn't a question he'd been expecting. The collar beeped before he could answer, "S-Sorry, sir. I don't… He's not teaching me anything."

"If I know Burton," Mr. Guster started, and Shawn internally corrected the name. "Then I know he wouldn't stop working on you until he thought you'd learned all there is to know about being a person. Since he's so stressed, I doubt that's happened yet. So, you either need to fail so spectacularly that he gives up, or you need to learn it –or say you did– so he can focus back on his own life."

This one had to be the trap. "I thought you didn't want me to lie to him."

"I don't. But I also want my boy to succeed. And right now, he's not able to do that."

The 'because of you' didn't need to be said.

Gus was an idiot. How had he missed such an obvious solution to his problem?

Except… He'd had reasons to not think of it, right? Would Shawn even agree to research the things Gus did, much less actually put any of it in place? His mother's expectant silence became too much and Gus tried to answer without breaking Shawn's confidence. "I'm not disagreeing with you… But what if he doesn't think his problem is a problem?"

"Then order him to make it a problem."

"I can't order him to talk to me about his feelings!" Gus snapped out before he could stop himself.

"Why on Earth would you want him to do that?"

"Mom!" Gus cut himself off and took a deep breath. She'd been able to stop herself from escalating things; he could too. He continued more calmly, "If this conversation is going to go anywhere good, then you have to at least pretend to see him like I do."

"How can I? Slaves don't have emotions like us."

"Really? From what I've seen, slaves feeling fear seems pretty accepted…" Gus sighed and asked the world, "You do realize that people can become slaves and vice versa, right?"

His mother's lips tightened into a strict line as she watched the handicap bus pull away. Would she even acknowledge what he'd said?

She seemed as unsure as him when she finally said, "If you knew someone… a person…. who didn't want to talk about their feelings… Then that would be their choice."

Of course she wouldn't understand… "Whatever… Forget about it."

"I'm not finished."

Mr. Guster asked again, "So, what is he trying to teach you?"

Shawn could refuse to answer. It would suck, but Mr. Guster didn't seem the type to let the collar shock him unconscious. The collar beeped, and the tension of not doing as he was told grew too loud to not answer. "I'm sorry, sir, but he doesn't really 'teach' me things like that. It's more correcting me in the moment when I'm… thinking or acting different than he wants."

It was close enough to not be a lie, but it definitely wasn't the full truth. Mr. Guster didn't challenge him on it. "I guess you're far enough along in his project for him to be beyond lesson plans… Alright, what part of your life is he having to correct you the most on?"

Shawn's training became too loud to fight, forcing him to answer truthfully, "He doesn't like that slaves don't show their emotions, sir."

"...Huh. I'll be honest; I didn't expect that."

"I know not to, sir," Shawn rushed to reassure him. He could prove that he was at least trying. "He already does so much for me."

Mr. Guster thought for a second before asking, "Why not?"

"...Sir?"

"You were trained to not show your emotions, Burton keeps telling you to show them, he won't be able to relax until you do… So why not show them?"

"You say Shawn's a person, so treat him like one. He doesn't want to talk about his emotions; fine. Let him."

Gus groaned. "Mom, I just told you–"

"But that doesn't mean you can't talk about them," his mother added, speaking over his complaints.

"–he won't do it any other… Wait, what?"

"Whatever's going on with him, it's clearly affecting you. So talk about that. He's trained to make you happy, so let him know how unhappy it's making you."

"It's a slave's job to make his master happy," Shawn answered. He already did so many things to make Gus unhappy; he couldn't add to that. "If I did that… it would make him less happy."

A small voice pinged, adding another layer of dread to the fear. If he did that… he'd be less happy. Those feelings hurt; pain was bad.

"Well, you not doing what he wants definitely isn't making him happy…" Mr. Guster sighed, and a fast glance showed Shawn the conflicted look on his face. "I… can't claim to know what a slave might feel. I can understand why it might not be something you'd want your master to see. But what about when your master's not there?"

"I can't tell him he's making his master unhappy, it's just one step shy of an order."

"Here I thought you were friends," his mother countered with a thin layer of sarcasm. "Are friends not allowed to say when they're unhappy?"

Everything she said was making sense, but she didn't understand. Shawn had gone through so much; he shouldn't have to do more. "I can't…"

"I can't…" Shawn flinched at his traitorous mouth; slaves weren't allowed to say that. "I'm sorry, sir. I mean–"

"Why can't you?"

Shawn couldn't stop the fear that answered, "I might not be able to control it." He also couldn't stop his training. "A slave doesn't make things harder for his master. Sir."

"I'm not sure you have much of a choice on that…"

"Can't? Or won't?" Gus' mother pressed. "You're trying to do everything for him. That's not what a slave or a person needs."

She was wrong; Gus let Shawn do a lot of things. She was right; Gus was trying to do more than he was able.

Mr. Burton continued, "You're not able to control your feelings now; why else would Burton be correcting you on it? And those feelings don't go away just because you don't want to feel them."

He was wrong; Shawn had run from all sorts of feelings. He was right; Shawn wasn't able to keep Gus from being affected by them.

Shawn and Gus looked down, studying their hands as their farce of control was taken away by five simple words.

"You need to trust him."