Shawn's legs jiggled as he waited for Gus, silence roaring in his ears as emptiness roared in his mind. The conversation with Mr. Guster had been the longest he'd ever talked with a free person who wasn't Gus. He really didn't know how to handle it.

How had they gone from talking about Gus to talking about him? And how had Mr. Guster managed to get him to admit that he was struggling with his emotions? Did the Gusters just have some sort of secret truth serum in their blood?

And what was he supposed to do with the solution Mr. Guster had given him?

The garage door opened and closed before he could answer anything, and Shawn warily watched the bedroom door. He had absolutely no idea how the next conversation would go.

Business as usual at the Guster house…

The door opened, and a knot in Shawn's gut relaxed when he saw the shellshock in his mind echoed on Gus' face. At least they were in this mess together.

Gus nodded jerkily at him as he made his way to his desk. "Hey, Shawn."

"Hey, Gus. So, where were you kidnapped to?"

"Uh… Mom wanted to talk somewhere where we wouldn't be overheard. Guess she knows about the stair spot…"

Did parents not normally know where all of the good eavesdropping places were? "We in trouble?"

"Not really. I was worried that she knew about…" Gus glanced at his closed door before lowering his voice. "about the thing, but she didn't bring it up."

Shawn relaxed further in relief. Mr. Guster hadn't mentioned the cops either, but there'd still been the possibility of a trap. "So what did she say?"

"Uh… Well… It's nothing you need to worry about."

Shawn narrowed his eyes; Gus had to know that wouldn't fly.

Gus fidgeted in the silence for over a minute before breaking. "She was worried about how snappy I've been with them. And she had this whole story about Dad to make it personal and a bunch of questions to try to fix it all and that's it."

He was still lying. And barely trying to hide it. "Really? That's it?"

"Yup."

"Nothing else at all got mentioned."

"Nope."

Shawn just raised an eyebrow expectantly and waited, letting the silence do the work for him again.

"Ok, fine," Gus said as he looked anywhere that wasn't Shawn. "I may have, kind of… Look, she kept asking questions and I knew there was stuff I couldn't tell her and then there was stuff I couldn't tell her, and I, uh…" Gus winced and rushed through the rest of his answer, "told her I was trying to teach you about emotions."

That was unexpected. Sure, Shawn hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't that.

Gus rushed to fill the silence that hadn't had time to settle. "I'm sorry, I know that's personal, I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. I kept it vague, I didn't mention anything specific, we can just forget it happened, or you can be mad at me, or–"

The answer finally caught up to Shawn and he started to laugh. Gus stared in shock, as though wondering if he'd finally broken his slave. Shawn's laughter grew at the sight and he fought to keep it quiet enough to not travel outside the room.

"Wh– I don't…" Gus stuttered. "What's going on?"

"Your father… and I… had the same… conversation," Shawn answered around the giggles that refused to stop. Was it actually this funny?

"Seriously? How?!"

"Beats me," Shawn wheezed, the answer triggering another cascade of laughs.

"Oh god… Did he hurt you?" Gus asked in horror, clearly having a completely different interpretation of the phrase.

Shawn shook his head before a prompt from the collar forced him to answer verbally, "No. Promise."

Gus still looked disturbed at Shawn's laughter. "Did he threaten you?"

The question was enough for Shawn to finally control the giggles. Technically Mr. Guster had threatened him if he lied, but Shawn hadn't lied, so it didn't count. "No, he didn't. We just talked."

Shawn's stomach ached from the impromptu laughter, and it left him off balanced… But it also made the air feel lighter.

Gus didn't seem to notice the change as he asked in bewilderment, "How in god's green earth did that happen?"

"Good question…" It still felt like a dream. "He was talking to me about the same things your mother was talking about, then the next thing I know, he was asking what you were trying to teach me." Shawn shrugged; it was better to keep Gus in the dark about his father wanting Shawn to play his part better. "He was also good at asking all of the questions."

"Huh." Gus' hands clasped in his lap, as though trying to hold himself back. The fight only lasted a few seconds before he cleared his throat and asked, "So, uh… What did he say? About that?"

Was it worth trying to lie? Why did he want to lie? Shawn answered truthfully, "He said if my emotions were affecting you enough that you're trying to teach me about them, then what I'm doing isn't good enough."

"That's not fair."

"It's true," Shawn said with a small shrug. "Your mother said something different?"

Gus scoffed. "Mom just thought it was crazy to think that slaves could possibly have emotions at all… Why do they have to be so dumb?"

The common refrain made Shawn's lips tick up, but it wasn't the parents being dumb this time. "Are they, though? Your father was right; I'm making things hard for you."

"Which is my choice. I chose all of this; it's fine…"

"Right. Because when you bought me, you totally knew this was how it was going to go."

Gus crossed his arms and stubbornly answered, "Yes, I did. Thank you."

Shawn just smirked and stayed quiet. It was quite effective.

"Ugh. Would you stop doing that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," Shawn said, his smirk growing into a grin. He'd won.

"You do too, and the collar blinked red." Gus slouched in his chair grumpily.

"Your mother said something else, didn't she?"

"Yes… And I don't want to talk about it because it makes me feel dumb that I didn't think of it first."

It was the first fully truthful thing he'd said since coming into his room.

A good slave would listen to what his master wanted. Shawn hadn't ever been a good slave. "If it makes you feel better, your father had a few of those too… Wanna swap?"

"How are you, of all people, so calm about all of this?"

Fear poisoned the air as Shawn remembered what their conversation was actually about. He mentally scrambled away from it; he was just trying to uncover the mystery of what Gus' mother had said. He didn't need to actually think past that.

Not yet, anyways.

"Your mother went all Fast and the Furious on you. How is that not at least a bit funny?"

Gus huffed, a small smile peeking through despite his best efforts. "She'd be furious to hear that comparison."

"What did she say?"

"She… pointed out that, while I talk about treating you like a person, I'm…" Gus looked away and mumbled, "I'm not really showing it."

"What?"

Gus actually believed that?

"Because I keep trying to do everything for you. Like researching how to get you to open up instead of letting you take care of it."

"Huh." In Gus' defense, it wasn't like Shawn would do that willingly. "Your father said you were doing too much too, but he said it was because I wasn't being a good enough slave. I wasn't… becoming what you wanted fast enough."

"Well that's bullshit."

Shawn smiled at the fast answer. "I know." And he did know. At the same time… "But he's also right."

"Shawn…"

"You are doing too much. And it is my fault."

"It is not!" Gus' intense look softened with a sigh. "It's my fault. I let it get to this point. That's not on you."

It was always on him. Shawn wryly pointed out, "Need I remind you of the thing?"

"Which I'd do again in a heartbeat," Gus answered. He held up a hand, stopping Shawn's argument as he thought. After several seconds, he reluctantly admitted, "Mom was right, though, that I'm still trying to push you the direction I want. Which isn't fair. I can back off on that."

That was a step in the right direction… But that wasn't the only thing Gus needed to stop. "You should go out with that girl."

"What?"

"Molly. You have her number; you should take her out."

"But that's taking up more time, not less," Gus complained. "And you'll be stuck on your own for longer–"

"Which I can handle." Shawn waited a beat for Gus to get it. "And it'll give me time to… you know… research that stuff."

The frantic urge to run away reared its head again, but it was less terrifying than earlier. Besides, Mr. Guster had been right; what he'd been doing wasn't working anymore. It was hurting Gus.

"You'd do that?" Gus asked, his eyes wide.

Shawn shrugged and tried to play it cool. "You seem to think it's important." But the answer was too incomplete. He looked away and quietly added, "You're giving me a chance at a life. I don't want you to give yours up."

Tears were easy to hear in Gus' voice as he answered, "Oh."

This was probably when friends would normally hug, but everything felt too fragile for that. They needed a different out. "So, did you notice that Mr. Fuller's grass is starting to die too?"

Gus let out a wet chuckle. "Serves him right. Did you hear he stole some of Dad's tools right before Easter?"

"Does it really count as stealing if your father let him borrow them?"

"It does if he doesn't give them back." Gus' voice strengthened as he found his footing again. "Mom couldn't believe that Dad did that…"

"Maybe he thought it was a peace offering." Shawn remembered a hungry partially naked slave. Mr. Fuller didn't deserve a peace offering.

"He doesn't deserve a peace offering…" Gus launched into a rant about all of Mr. Fuller's crimes against childhood innocence, and Shawn relaxed in the safety of the moment. The fear was still there, but it wasn't as loud with the sun shining bright through the window.

"The next step is just like it's written. It's important to keep stirring so it doesn't burn."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Gus' shoulders tensed as he forced a large ball of dough to fold over on itself. It would be more satisfying if he could throw it against the counter, but that would scare Shawn. His mother was acting weird enough to do that on her own.

Dinner the night before had been as awkward as he'd expected, but neither of his parents had held their conversation over his head. Which was surprising, but appreciated. Judging by a few pointed looks he'd noticed, he had his father to thank for it.

He shoved the dough down again, pushing harder than needed to burn off some of his frustration. He didn't need coddled. They'd ganged up on him and Shawn, treating them like kids who couldn't take care of themselves.

What was worse was they'd been right…

"Careful adding that, unless you like being burned by hot filling."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Burton, make sure you don't overwork that."

"I know, Mom," Gus answered with an eye roll. He put all of his weight behind the next few shoves, softening the sharp edges of his anger. The fact that it worked was frustrating all on its own. Had his mother given him this job on purpose?

Other than telling Gus to work on homework last night while Shawn cleaned up, his mother hadn't actually been too annoying. Until this morning when she'd decided they both had to help her with the pies. And had decided to rub it in Gus' face that Shawn knew how to read recipes.

"That's the right amount of bubbling; any more and it would be too hot. I expect you to be able to match it next time."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Burton, split that in three then come take over the stove."

To add more insult to injury… It was actually kind of nice to have someone else in charge of what both of them were doing. Gus sighed as he finally accepted that he wasn't actually as mad as he wanted to be. Admitting he was wrong was hard, but it wouldn't do anyone any good to hold onto it just for the sake of his ego.

His parents didn't need to know it, though. His ego didn't need to take that big of a hit.

Gus split the dough and went to watch the bubbling pots. Shawn shot him a bemused look, clearly wondering why Gus' mother hadn't put him in charge of the dishes like normal. Gus just answered with a shrug; he had his suspicions, but who really knew?

"These are going to be our pie crusts. You can watch me roll out this one then you'll do the next. The circle should be larger than the tin by at least an inch on each side…"

It was nice, actually, to work with his hands and not worry about what the next five minutes would bring. Gus scraped the sides of the pot, watching the filling bubble in a soothing way. He didn't want to tempt fates, but hopefully his phone would stay quiet. A call from the cops would ruin the whole thing.

"Now it's your turn. Burton, you're scraping the bottom when you stir, right?"

Gus rolled his eyes at still being treated like a kid. "Yes, I know how to stir a pot."

"Good, then you can pour out the cherry," His mother answered, handing him the prepared crust.

Gus was just scraping out the last of the filling when she started to lecture, "No, no, you're doing it all wrong. You can't pull it; that'll just tear holes. Spread it out from the thickest sections."

Shawn tensed at the correction, his hands clenching around the rolling pin. Gus rushed to get ahead of the panic. "It's a common mistake, especially for a beginner. Right, Mom?"

"I didn't say it wasn't common," his mother answered with an annoyed huff. "He might not be a five star chef, but he at least needs to know enough to take care of you."

"I don't need taken care of."

Neither of them reacted, clearly both thinking they knew better. At least Shawn looked less like he was about to beg for forgiveness…

Shawn's second attempt at rolling out a crust went better, though Gus' mother still found something to critique. It wasn't long until all of the pies were in the oven and all of the dishes were in the sink.

"Shawn, please come here."

Gus tensed, readying himself for a fight as his mother inspected Shawn.

"Well, you're still not what I would have picked. But besides a few… mishaps… you've served our family well. Something I expect to continue. Burton's been overworking himself–"

"I'm right here," Gus snapped out.

"-and that needs to change. You will do the job you were bought to do."

"Mom, I told you that you can't order him around anymore."

Shawn glanced up, locking gazes with Gus as he answered, "Yes, ma'am."

It was a conspiracy. They were all plotting against him. Gus pouted as his mother smiled. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, you can clean the dishes while Burton finishes his homework. I won't need any other help until after dinner."

Gus plopped into a kitchen chair and grumpily pulled over his stuffed backpack. He was doing homework because it made sense to do it now. He wasn't doing it because he'd been told to… And he could almost convince himself that the typical complaint was legit. Except his textbook felt lighter than usual, and the words on the page were actually easy to understand.

The warm smell of baking pies made him relax even further as he grabbed his pen and began to take notes.

Shawn watched in amusement as Gus fretted at his closet. Who knew a girl didn't even need to be in the same room as him to make him flustered?

"It's a coffee date. Coffee dates aren't tie occasions, right?"

"Heck if I know," Shawn answered. "You look fine; just like you always do."

"That's the problem!"

Really, Gus was worrying for no reason. It didn't matter that he always dressed nice. He didn't always wear tailored dress pants that fit him like a glove or a dark purple button-up shirt that was absolutely his color. If a woman wanted more than that, then she'd never be pleased.

Gus contemplated the tie in his hand before groaning and tossing it back on its hanger. "You're supposed to look nicer than normal for a date. To show you're willing to put in the work. Maybe a vest…? No, still too formal. A sweater vest. I need a sweater vest."

Even Gus, the master who made no sense, had to know that made no sense. "You don't have a sweater vest."

"I know! I need to buy some. Then I'll look cool."

"You and I have very different definitions of cool."

Gus froze before a huge smile stretched across his face, brightening up the whole room.

He was so weird… "What?"

"Nothing."

It was a blatant lie, but he was definitely happier. Shawn counted that as a win.

Gus smoothed his shirt out for the fifth time, his smile fading as he took a bracing breath. "Ok… Ok. I can do this. Can I do this?" He shot a frantic look at Shawn. "I don't know if I can do this."

He was so gonna crash and burn. "You managed to get her number. You can do this."

Gus nodded, looking like a lost tourist who'd just been handed a map. "Ok… Ok, yeah." He spread his hands out, presenting himself for approval. "How do I look?"

"Like Blair Underwood," Shawn answered with a grin. "LA Law, not Downtown."

Gus perked up at the comparison, but he still hesitated as he reached for the doorknob. "You'll be alright? I know you agreed to research stuff while I'm out, but you don't have to do it alone…"

Shawn stomach flipped at the reminder. He pasted on a smile and answered, "Of course I'll be alright. Go get the girl."

Gus still didn't move, like he couldn't make himself turn the knob. "The coffee shop isn't too far away, and I already called to make the remote radius larger for a few hours. You should be fine… Man, we really need to get you a phone."

"Slaves can't have phones," Shawn answered automatically. Which really wasn't helpful. "You can just leave the remote here. I won't run again."

Gus hesitated, the long pause making Shawn internally cringe in guilt. Gus finally repeated, "The coffee shop isn't too far away. It'll be fine." He winced before adding, "Sorry. It's just… I can't do this" – he gestured to his nice clothes– "if I'm worried about this." He gestured between them.

Shawn nodded; he should have known better than to ask. "It'll go great. And if it doesn't… I want to know everything about whatever inanimate object decided to ruin your day."

"You'll do great too," Gus offered awkwardly back. He let out one more breath before opening the door. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll see you then."

The reassurance bolstered Gus enough to finally leave the room. Leaving Shawn alone with the laptop.

Five minutes later, Shawn was still sitting on the floor, staring at the laptop. He had several hours, he didn't actually have to start now. He didn't really have to do it at all. He'd felt calm the last few days; it probably meant he was all better. He didn't have to go digging things up again, and what Gus didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Shawn could just string together a few phrases he'd heard his mother say and call it good…

His mother, who'd claimed to care so much about her clients, who'd left him to his fate… Shawn flushed hot as his hands clenched into fists. What the fuck did she actually know?

Anger wasn't safe. Shawn forced his hands to open and stayed still, despite the nearly overwhelming urge to pace or to tear something apart. 'Fair' didn't matter to a slave. Anger only brought more pain. Any show of emotion brought pain. They weren't important.

…And that was exactly the reaction that had Gus so worried. Shawn wasn't expecting pain anymore. He didn't have to think that way.

And he'd promised Gus he'd look things up. He'd only just started to rebuild the trust he'd broken when he'd run away; he couldn't break it again. Not after Gus had worked so hard for his chance at freedom.

He could do it. In ten more minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn finally forced himself up from the floor. Four steps to the desk, pick up the laptop, four steps back to his sleeping bag, sit down, open the lid, type. Easy.

It didn't feel easy.

Eight steps and five minutes later, Shawn was ready to slam the laptop lid back down. Every page on controlling his emotions were talking about expressing them. That would just make them stronger and even more out of control, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Not to mention all of the suggestions were for free people. Scream into a pillow, laugh at a funny movie, have a big cry…

He was safer than most slaves; Gus would let him do things like that. But what about when they were working with the cops? Any one of those could break his code of conduct.

Shawn's fingers started to type before he could think, and a new word was added to the search 'Control emotions slaves.'

Two links in and the lid slammed closed. Bad idea. That had been a very bad idea.

Shawn took a shaky breath in and looked around the room. Gus had made his bed, his tie was still hanging crooked on the hanger, and there were five origami animals on his desk. The sleeping bag was squishy under his legs, the wall was hard on his back, and the laptop was slightly cool on his lap. He let his breath out. He was in the dorm room, not his trainer's house. He wasn't being punished for crying.

He needed a new approach.

Shawn groaned and lightly thumped the back of his head against the wall. He knew the right approach; he just didn't want to do it. Gus' face swam in his memory, both hopeful and surprised as he asked if Shawn would actually research things on his own. Shawn couldn't break that trust.

He allowed himself one more sigh before reaching further back in his memories.

"So, how was work?" Shawn's dad asked as he dug into his fish.

His mom answered, "It was alright… There's a new client who has an interesting form of emotional suppression. I think I'll actually have to dig into my books to help them."

Shawn picked at his own fish. It wasn't that it tasted bad… but he'd also seen it when it was still alive. It was weird. "What's 'emotional suppression'?"

"It's when someone is taught that emotions are dangerous or painful and they learn to stop feeling them."

Shawn thought about the answer as disgust kept his fork on the plate. It would be useful if he could eat the fish without it. "Why's that bad?"

"Well, a few reasons. You can't choose which emotions to stop feeling. I don't know many people who'd willingly choose to not feel happy. But more than that…" his mom shot a look at his dad, like she was sending a second message. "Even if someone doesn't feel their emotions, it doesn't mean they don't exist. If you don't know what you're feeling, then you can't control when it'll take over."

"That doesn't mean it's not useful to ignore them sometimes," his dad added. "A cop isn't very useful if he's cowering in the corner when bullets start flying."

His mom's tone was pointed as she said, "As long as he feels them afterwards."

Even when they were pretending they were fine they found a way to fight… Maybe Shawn could help his mom with her problem. She'd probably be really proud, and maybe she'd even talk to him more about her work. She'd like that…

"Why don't you tell the client to do something fun? Like riding a bike or playing a game? Then they can feel happy and then they can feel everything else."

His mom hid a chuckle behind her hand, and his heart sunk. He'd thought it was a good idea…

"Unfortunately it's a bit more complicated than that. But it's ok; it's nothing you need to worry about." Shawn opened his mouth to ask why it wouldn't work, but his mom spoke over him. "So, Henry. How are the new recruits going? Are they adjusting alright?"

Shawn slumped in his chair and stared at the food that used to stare back. A dark feeling bubbled in the back of his mind, urging him to throw the plate against the wall. They wouldn't laugh him off then…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to not be able to feel his feelings.

Shawn grimaced as he opened his eyes. They'd used to be a normal family… to think that he'd actually wanted his mother's approval. It made him sick.

At least it had given him the information he needed. Suppression didn't seem right; he could feel plenty of emotions. He just needed to control them. But his mother had given him that answer too. He couldn't control them unless he felt them. Which was annoying, but at least it gave him a place to start.

He hadn't thought this much about emotions since he was ten. He hadn't missed it…

Shawn gritted his teeth and reopened the laptop. Gus was trusting him.

Though, what, exactly, was he supposed to search? He already knew how to feel his feelings, didn't he? He just usually chose not to… Research was a lot harder than he'd realized.

Without any other idea to go on, Shawn typed in his next search. 'Feeling emotions'.

Lists of charts and emotion wheels swam before his eyes as he clicked through the links. Terrifying words accompanied them, like body scans and mindfulness and 'letting the emotions flow through him' whatever the hell that meant. It was too overwhelming. And not at all useful. And he was going to fail even though he'd been trying.

Shawn closed his eyes, blocking out all of the meaningless words as he took a deep breath.

"If there's too much evidence, then find the piece you can currently work with. Don't forget the rest of them, but focus on what you can do, not what you can't."

There had been one phrase that had been understandable. Name them to tame them. It's what he needed, to be able to keep them in control. It made sense that he had to start with knowing what they were.

He knew anger. He knew what to expect, small ways to bleed off the energy, what to keep under control… He could do that for the other ones. A familiar feeling made itself known, the concave ache in his chest that had started pulling after his memory.

He slowly typed out a new search, reluctance making the right letters even harder to find than normal. Surely he'd done enough now.

His finger pressed enter, and his focus tunnel visioned on one of the words that popped up. It jolted through his soul as his heart stopped.

Grief.

That couldn't be right. His dad had died years ago; why would it be affecting him now? It had to be something else. It was wrong. That wasn't what it was.

The ache grew, its name making it stronger. A heavy emptiness crept across his chest, around his shoulders, up his throat… An eclipse darkening everything it touched. He slammed his eyes closed as a force squeezed him from the inside out, wringing out the tears that couldn't be shed.

It was too much, it couldn't be controlled, he had to feel it to control it but it was too much. He couldn't… Everything was too much.

His dad, his family, his home, his freedom… himself. Everything he'd lost was too much, too big. He was too small. Only the scraps of what remained.

He was moving before he remembered how to breathe. He had to survive. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he looked for any port in the storm.

'How to make grief go away.'

He didn't find the answer he was hoping for.