Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom In Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 29614 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters and plots are mine. No money was made with this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
The Savior

November, 1985

Ten years ago

Laine woke to searing agony. At first he thought he was back at the Hold. He was moving, swaying, but it wasn’t quite right. He cracked open an eye and nearly whined from the pain. Only years of practice kept him silent. Flickering lights… strange leather smell… the shadows of two seats in front of him… He was in the back of a car!

Gritting his teeth, Laine lifted his head enough to see that he was wrapped up in heavy, itchy blankets. He was lying in the back seat. Two people sat up front. Their conversation was an incomprehensible buzz that slowly became clear.

“Hurry, George!”

“I’m already speeding!”

“Who would do that to a kid?”

“Maybe he got run over by a boat…”

“It looks like he’s been whipped! Someone probably threw him in the water hoping he’d drown!”

“Shut up, Jay! Just shut up. We’re almost at the hospital. He’ll get help.”

Laine didn’t need to hear anything else. Horror nearly made him sick up. The hospital! He couldn’t go there! The Bastard would find him. He’d kill him. Laine had to find and save Green-eyes. Nothing else mattered. The car jerked to a stop. Red light filled the car. Laine reached weakly for the door handle. Mentally cursing himself – I have to be stronger than this, damn it! – Laine flung his broken body forward. The door opened and Laine spilled out in a tumble of blood-stained blankets.

“Holy shit!”

“Kid! Stop!”

Laine didn’t. He picked himself up, held the blankets close, and ran. He dodged horns and cars. He ducked reaching hands and shocked exclamations. Then he was in a dark alley. Laine welcomed the shadows and ignored the glass and debris that tore at his feet. Ten steps later, Laine stumbled. His shoulder hit the rough brick wall and he vomited bile. Tears soaked his face, his ribs ached, and every inch of skin screamed at him, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t be caught. He couldn’t let them take him away. Not yet…

Green-eyes… Got to save him… Got to…

xXx

Precious pressed his back into his Master’s legs. They were watching television before bed. It was so peaceful here. He could hardly remember being anywhere else. His Master was his world. The boy looked up and smiled, wishing he could show Master how much he loved him. He got to eat twice a day, had warm baths, his Master played with him, and taught him how to be good. It was the happiest he’d ever been.

“What is it, precious?” Master asked when he caught sight of the boy staring.

The boy ducked his head. Instead of answering, he turned and hugged his Master’s leg tightly.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes, Master,” Precious whispered, his whole body craving that comforting touch.

Master laughed lowly. He reached forward and ran his hands through Precious’ hair. The boy practically melted, his forehead pressed to his Master’s thigh as he sighed in pleasure.

“So beautiful. Such a good boy,” Master murmured. “Lay on the table.”

“Yes, Master,” the child answered eagerly. With a big smile, he laid belly and chest flat on the table. His small hips and legs fell to the floor over the side. The plain t-shirt he wore was pushed up his back, exposing him to his Master’s eyes. The football game mumbled on the TV across from him. The light flickered across his pale, sweet face. Impossible green eyes stared over a small rounded shoulder.

“Spread your legs, precious.”

Again he obeyed.

Eyes on the child on display before him, feeding on the trust and need burning in those impossible green eyes, the Master grabbed the tube of lotion sitting on the side table. There was the pop as the lotion was opened. Master reached forward and spread the small cheeks to reveal the tender, pink opening. A blunt finger pressed gently forward, and the boy’s body gave and opened, the child giving a delicious moaning sigh.

It didn’t hurt anymore. Not like the first night. It filled Precious with weird sensations; made his body feel stretched and full. His Master’s fingers pumped in a slow, smooth rhythm, and Precious pressed back knowing how much Master loved that.

Soon another finger was added. As his body was gently stretched, Precious pressed his forehead to the table. Sweat slicked his skin and he rocked forward with every gentle push of his Master’s strong hand. Warm, soothing, he almost fell asleep as Master played with him. Peace…

xXx

Agony… Laine had lived with it for so long, it shouldn’t get to him anymore. It shouldn’t even register. But when had Laine ever been cut a break? Hot and cold in waves, his back arching as it spasmed painfully, Laine cried out, broken and sobbing from the unrelenting torture. He was blinded by color and light that spun in a sickening blur. Voices and sounds echoed and distorted until he was deafened by the cacophony.

xXx

Precious woke up with sunlight in his face. He stretched like a cat on his bedding. The burn in his backside made him grin proudly. He’d taken three fingers yesterday. The Master had held and babied him afterward, telling him how proud he was. He’d even handfed him chocolate-covered strawberries. Precious hadn’t even known such delicious things existed.

Sitting up, he saw that Master’s bed was empty. He pulled on his t-shirt and padded quietly out of the bedroom. Master was at the table, his customary cup of coffee sitting in front of him and a cell phone held to his ear.

Precious moved to his side and leaned against him. He opened his mouth, ready to say a happy, ‘Good morning.’

“Go clean the bedroom. Make yourself useful,” Master said angrily, pushing the child away.

Precious gasped and jerked away from the man. For some reason, Precious flashed back to the hold. A dirty face appeared in his mind’s eye and the feeling of small fingers gently stoking his hair every morning as he woke up.

Tears formed in his eyes as he ducked his head. He was so stupid! He was still a disgusting little Freak. What was he thinking? The boy spun and ran to the bedroom. He swore to himself the apartment would be spotless when the Master got home that night, and he’d do even better at Master’s game! He was a dirty Freak and good for nothing, but he would try his absolute best. He would! He’d do anything to make Master happy!

xXx

Laine woke with a gasp. He was lying in tangled blankets on a cot with a woman at his side. She sat hunched, her beady eyes watching him. She made no move to touch him, so he slowly sat up. He saw he was in a big room. People milled around, weaving in and out of the rows of cots. At least he wasn’t in a hospital.

The woman offered him a cup of soup, and Laine snatched it with a heated glare and gulped it down. It was cold, but that didn’t matter in the least. “Where am I?” he rasped, voice low and hoarse.

The woman smiled. Three front teeth were missing. “A homeless shelter. Brought you here. Found you passed out by a dumpster. Said you were mine.”

His eyes narrowed even more. “Why’d you do that?”

“Give women with kids more.” She gestured to the plastic grocery bag of food. Her beady eyes stared him down. “It’s mine.”

Laine gave her his best sneer. “I don’t give a fuck.” He tried to stand. His legs shook under him. He noticed he was dressed. Jeans two sizes too big hung on his hips. A sweater one size too small gave him some warmth.

“You ain’t gonna make it,” the woman rasped.

Laine ignored her and stumbled his way through the maze of cots and out the door. He raised a hand with a hiss as the sun stabbed into his eyes. Without looking back, he began to walk down the street. He had a little boy to save.

xXx

Precious lay flat on his back on the couch. His legs were spread and his knees were bent. His arms were flung gracefully over his head. Master was leaning over him, one knee on the couch.

“You’re so beautiful. Yes, Precious, so good. I love it. You’re so good at this game.”

The wonderful words spilled from Master’s lips as he pushed the boy farther than ever before. Precious was panting hard. Trying not to cry out, to tell Master he couldn’t play anymore. His master had three fingers deep inside, wiggling and pushing, pushing, pushing! It wasn’t a gentle rocking movement this time. It was hard thrusts of his hand, pressing deeper and deeper!

Precious cried out, back arching. It felt like the Master’s fingers were trying to crawl up into his stomach. The heavy dinner he’d just eaten rolled, and he began to swallow hard, desperate not to throw up. He had to make Master happy! If he didn’t, he’d be kicked out just like he deserved. Because he was a useless, dirty Freak!

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. He hardly even felt it as those hard fingers left his body. His whole lower half throbbed in time to his rapid heartbeat. He ached inside and out, and for some reason he couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

“Sara, take him to the bedroom. Don’t come out.”

The angry sound of Master’s voice startled him. He jerked and looked around. Sara was crouched on the floor, and she nodded at the order and approached the couch. Master stood in the entrance way at the door. Why was Master mad? Precious was trying so hard! A sob rose in his throat as Sara took his hand. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave his Master, but he knew better than to disobey. Sara shut the bedroom door and pulled him to her bed. They sat together, him naked and her with a t-shirt.

There was a loud boom as the front door was kicked in. They could hear the sound of several people enter, of Master’s angry shout. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

Afraid, Precious looked to Sara. “What’s happening?”

“Master has enemies,” she answered without looking. She just sat there with her eyes closed as if she didn’t care that something was going on.

The boy stared at the bedroom door with wide frightened eyes. When it opened, he jumped. A stranger loomed in the doorframe. The man smiled when he saw them. “On your feet, pets. Come out here.”

Sara went to him obediently. Precious was too scared to move. The man sneered and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him out into the living room. The boy gasped when he saw Master standing against the wall, his face a mask of rage. Another man was holding a shiny gun in his hand.

“You’re making a mistake, Chris. The others won’t be happy you’re rocking the boat,” Master growled.

“Fuck them! I’m not some petty thief to be brushed off!”

The man wore all black, his face was twisted with anger. Three other strangers were fanned out behind him, but the boy didn’t get a good look at them. His attention was riveted on the metal gun. It was pointing steadily at his Master.

“You kill me, you’ll be killing yourself!”

BANG!

Precious watched as Master’s body jerked backward, blood gently spraying forward and back. His Master’s mouth stretched wide with surprise and pain. The hazel eyes were already glazing when his head thumped obscenely against the wall. Everyone watched as the body slid down into a slump, leaving a wet red smear.

Master’s head…

Precious’s breath rasped loudly in his ears.

… It was broken. Blood was beginning to pool around Master’s body, very slowly creeping across the floor in an expanding circle…

A choked cry gurgled in his throat. He felt light, like he could float away and never come back.

… A deep booming laugh pulled his eyes slowly from Master.

“Surprise, surprise. I’m not dead.” The man grinned and tossed his gun backward. One of the others caught it. “Two of you guard the door. Don’t let anyone up here. I’m going to celebrate.”

He could only stare dumbly as the killer grabbed Sara’s arm and pulled her back into the bedroom. Just before the door closed, the man looked back and his eyes settled on the boy.

“Those of you not on duty can play with this one.”

The boy looked at the other men, tears rolling down his cheeks. They were eyeing each other. Two were frowning and turned away. They left the apartment silently. The one that remained turned back to him and began to grin. Precious began to shake so hard, he could hardly keep on his feet. He stumbled backward. His back hit the wall.

Startled, he screamed. And suddenly he couldn’t stop screaming.

His Master… the one to take care of him so good… He was gone… All of his happiness was gone… His feet squished in the blood-soaked carpet. The smell… His Master’s bloody head was almost at eye level not three inches from his shoulder.

The man grabbed his arm hard. Precious was crying now, huge sobs of grief as he screamed. The man hit him hard across the face. “Shut up, brat, or you’ll regret it!”

Darkness flooded his vision. His head spun as agony pounded through his rattled skull. Precious gasped and wheezed, too terrified to scream. His eyes were huge and wild, hardly coherent as the man took him over to the couch.

“You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you?”

Precious went limp. He stared at his Master as he was folded over the arm of the couch. Master, Master, please come back. I’ll be good. Please. The familiar sensation of his thighs being spread confused him. He moaned, “Master?”

“That’s right. I’m your master,” the man grunted. There was the sound of clothes being shifted, zippers being undone. “Obey your master, bitch.” Precious moaned as fingers pressed at his hole. “Look at you, slut. All wet and open for me.” Something blunt, wider than fingers pressed at him.

Precious stared dumbly at his dead Master’s face. But Master was behind him? He was confused and scared. Limp, heart racing like a rabbits, still sobbing, something pressed deep inside his body with more force that he expected. He arched with a scream, his hands scrabbling at the couch arm.

“No,” he wailed.

Master laughed and that huge rod pulled back only to slam back in. His stomach hit the couch arm with such force he vomited everything he’d eaten. He didn’t expect the pain. Sharp agony exploded up his spine. Vomit stung his nostrils and burned his mouth. He screamed as he felt hot wetness on his legs. He couldn’t breathe! It hurt so bad!

Master reached down and forced his cheeks open with his hands. He watched as his bloody dick moved in and out of the small tortured boy. Ecstasy! God, it felt so fucking good to be riding that small ass! The way the boy’s back bowed and arched, the way sweat clung to his thick wild hair, the tortured expression, the trauma-blind eyes; it brought him to the brink of a massive orgasm already. He sped up his brutal thrusts, riding the boy’s agony to paradise.

xXx

Laine stared up at the club. It had taken him three hours to find Club Slasher. Damien was famous on the black-market, so a lot of people knew which club was his, but the trouble was not many people would talk to a kid as young as Laine. Especially when he shook and dribbled snot everywhere. At least he wasn’t bleeding. The wounds on his back had closed.

Everything would be better once he got his boy. He huddled in an alley, ignoring the trembling in his legs and hands, and watched the club through glassy eyes until it began to shut down for the night. The bouncers weren’t paying much attention. Most people were going out, not in. It was the perfect time to slip past them.

Laine drifted across the street, using the shadows as much as possible to hide him. Once he was in position, he waited for a group of drunk women to come to the door. He bolted forward and insinuated his body between the staggering females and the wall. The bouncer never saw him, but one woman shrieked as he brushed by her butt.

Breathing hard, heart racing, Laine quickly took in his surroundings. There was a bar on the other side of the room with a dozen stools. His attention was caught by red gauzy curtains hanging over an open doorway. Loud bass music poured into the entrance hall from that direction, so Laine assumed it led to the dance floor and other such things. He wanted to go up. He’d been told by a homeless man that Damien lived in an apartment above the club.

He finally spotted a second door almost hidden by the bar and made his way over in that direction, hoping it was the stairs. His instincts ere right, but his luck was bad. The door opened just as he reached it. Two men stepped out. They were obviously thugs with their heavy jewelry and bulging muscles.

“What the fuck!”

Laine ducked, but Thug 1 was quicker than he looked. He snagged Laine by the collar of his sweater and hefted him until he was dangling on his tip-toes.

“What’re you doing?” the thug snarled in his face.

Laine made his eyes go big, hoping his cold made the man disgusted enough to drop him. “I’m lookin for my mom. She told me to wait outside, but I’ve been waiting forever!”

“I don’t know. He looks harmless,” Thug 2 rumbled, his fingers loosening. Laine waited with baited breath. Just a little more and he’d be able to jerk free.

“Chris said to bring up anyone who tried to get in,” Thug 1 rumbled back.

“He’s busy,” the other said unhappily.

“Please, I just wanna find my mom,” Laine begged, hoping to sway the two into letting him go.

“I think he has a fever,” Thug 1 said with a frown. He dropped Laine and wiped his hand off on his pants.

Just then the music cut off, the DJ closing down for the night. A high-pitched keen of agony drifted down the stairs and made Laine’s hair stand up at the back of his neck. Viciously, he kicked out, getting the first bastard holding him in the balls. The large man staggered into his partner as Laine darted up the stairs. He had no plan. Only that he needed to get to his boy.

The door at the top was unlocked. He burst in, only slightly aware of the thunder following at his heels. He couldn’t catch his breath, a cough building in his throat. Laine felt the blood rush from his head; he thought he’d faint. The boy he’d come to rescue was sobbing helplessly, folded over a couch arm as a filthy bastard rocketed into his small body.

A roar of pure rage tore through Laine’s throat as he ran forward. He leapt through the air and landed on the rapist’s back. Maddened, he lashed his head forward and bit the monster at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Laine wanted him dead! He wanted to kill him! In answer, he felt the pulse of his power stab forward.

He grinned even as he was pulled off and thrown roughly to the ground. A heavy foot pinned him to the blood-soaked carpet. He stilled in horror, wheezing and hacking up mucus. If this was the little boy’s blood, the kid wouldn’t survive. Almost against his will, he looked up. His charge was still bent over the couch arm, but thankfully he was alone. All the other men were staring down at Laine and yelling at each other.

Laine looked his boy over carefully. There was blood coming from his torn hole but not too much. Someone had at least stretched him first. Then he saw the corpse. He shuddered. He’d come barging in here and now he was in the hands of murdering psychos. How was he going to get himself and the boy free?

Terrified pain-filled eyes finally found his as the boy slipped to the floor. Those green eyes weren’t tracking so well. Knowing the little boy needed him gave Laine strength. “I’m going to save you,” he rasped quietly. “Just hold on.”

xXx

The little boy could hardly believe Laine was really here. His first ever friend…

Precious burst into desperate tears. All the pain seemed to fade for a moment. No one had ever said they would save him. Not even his Master. It was all he ever wanted, all he secretly prayed for. He reached weakly for his savior, but Laine was yanked away as the man who’d been hurting him so badly lifted the older boy up onto his feet. Then rapist swayed and dropped Laine. He had to grab the couch arm to keep standing.

The bedroom door opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me,” the killer spat venomously.

“We caught this brat trying to sneak in, sir.”

“What!” Chris stepped into the room and grabbed Laine by his filthy shirt. “Are you a spy? An agent? How dare they? They send a child! They’ll regret taking me so lightly!”

“Sir, he said he was just looking for his mom…”

“Shut up! Give me your belt!”

The man scrambled to obey and Chris ordered the other thug to hold Laine up.

No one seemed to care about the rapist who now lay unnaturally still on the floor.

Precious wasn’t sure what was going on. Dark spots crowded his vision. He just wanted this to stop. His body burned with agony. He wanted Laine!

“Tell me who sent you,” the killer growled in Laine’s face.

Slowly it occurred to Precious that Laine shouldn’t be here. He’d come to get him, to save him. The boy whimpered and pushed himself up on his knees. His mouth worked, but no words emerged from his raw throat.

SNAP! The belt fell viciously across Laine’s chest, making the young boy scream… “Answer me!” Chris screamed furiously.

Green eyes went wide in horror as the buckle lashed out at Laine’s already scarred chest. A line of red… so much red everywhere… appeared as Laine gasped in pain. This was his fault!

SNAP! … “Answer!”

Laine bit through his lip, tears coursing down his pale face.

SNAP, CRACK!… The boy watched with eyes growing wild with insanity… SNAP… He hurt, hurt so much, so afraid… CRACK... Laine was screaming. He was hurting because he had come to try and help him… SNAP CRACK...

Suddenly all the chaos disappeared under a blinding wave of light. Freak/Harry/Precious fell apart with a throat-tearing scream.

xXx

Laine cried out as the belt battered his chest. He was half strangling from the agony and his congested lungs. The wounds from Raymond were far from healed and this asshole was only making them worse. The bonfire of agony ran over his chest and back, threatening to draw him down into unconsciousness. Everything just hurt too much.

Something scratched at the back of his mind. He fell silent. The pain became less consuming as all his attention was focused on the strange sensation. It was drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. Slowly, they focused and he found himself staring at the little boy.

The broken child knelt with arms out flung, huge wings of light flaring behind him. His head was tipped back, his mouth open in a never-ending scream. And his face… God, his face… It was filled with such insanity. The asshole beating him was slammed back against the wall and burst into white and blue flames. The man’s screams reached pitches that didn’t seem possible for a human voice box. The sound went on and on as he died.

Meanwhile the couch directly behind the boy ignited. Then Damien’s body caught fire. The carpet was burning. Heat licked at Laine’s skin, pain on top of pain, and Laine jerked backward as the fire almost touched him. He reached down inside and pushed out, trying to protect himself. Power called to power, and he felt a zinging sensation. The flames stopped just shy of his body. He’d fallen to his hands and knees weakly, but he held his head up so he could watch as everyone began to burn.

The thugs ran for the door. Both became living candles. One bastard managed to get the door open and ran screaming down into the club. The fire spread. The heat dried the sweat and blood on Laine’s skin. The place began to creak and groan alarmingly. The screams had stopped, but the fire was roaring.

He wasn’t afraid, just surprised. He knew about invisible power. He had some, himself. It was what lashed out of him, poisoning those who invaded his body. He remembered the glee of killing those who’d raped him. He’d laughed as he realized no one would ever hurt him like that again without suffering, too. But this wasn’t like his power. This was something much, much bigger.

His head finally fell forward too heavy to hold up any longer. Small arms wrapped around him, and he rolled onto his back so he could hold the sobbing boy in his arms. His charge clung to him like he was the only thing that could save him, but his attention was riveted on the fire that continued to rage mere feet from them. Were they going to die? This little boy was special. He was pure. Laine had to save this boy!

“I’m sorry! So sorry! Please, make it stop,” the boy begged, hysterical. “Master! Please! Save my Master! Laine! Laine! Help me! MASTER!”

Laine grimaced and held on to the distraught child. He did his best to shield the boy from the fire, sacrificing his own skin. A back curtain fell across his vision, but then he felt an almost electrical charge suddenly brace him up. Power cradled them in a pressure-filled cocoon. Laine only had strength enough to hold the screaming boy to his chest as the building was incinerated around them.

Then, as fast as it had begun, the light faded, and Laine was lying in a gradually dimming globe floating fifteen feet from the ground. Below them, a small crater spread out where the club had stood moments before. The buildings closest to it had been reduced to rubble. The whole block was on fire. The scream of dozens of fire engines and police cars filled the air. The sound made Laine shiver with repressed memories.

The globe they stood in floated toward the burnt earth and flickered off. The little boy went limp and silent in his arms. Laine cradled the tiny body, checking for injuries. His charge was naked. Blood still dripped from where he’d been torn by those sick bastards, and Laine burned with the fierce gladness of all the destruction. They all deserved it for hurting this little boy so badly. His charge was near catatonic, but he began to whimper as Laine rocked him and stroked his hair. The small body shook so hard the little teeth chattered, and he made these broken whimpering sounds that about killed Laine. It was the worst sound he’d ever heard.

“I’ll protect you,” Laine rasped, exhausted and frightened. He had no idea how to comfort the child. “Your mine now…” he said as clearly as he could. He couldn’t pass out now. They still weren’t safe. “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you again. You’re mine. You’re safe. Forever and ever. I’ve got you.”

Laine fell into a fit of coughing. Weak and hurt, he felt panic begin to rise. How would he protect them? Then the warm feeling from the Hold settled around him. Slowly it got easier to breathe and things stopped vibrating in his peripheral vision. All too soon, the boy passed out, pale and utterly helpless. Laine was still hurt, still bled, but the boy had done enough for him to get them out of there.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised him over and over, even though he was so very, very tired and hungry.

He staggered to his feet, still clutching his charge to his chest. He’d never let him go again. If only he’d been faster... Laine shook his head. He couldn’t think like that now. He’d just have to make sure nothing like that ever happened to his boy again. Ever. With hard determination, he began to walk with his charge in his arms.

He walked for hours, never once stopping or setting his burden down. His legs shook and burned, but he couldn’t feel it. Laine put one foot in front of the other with near inhuman focus. He walked until the city was behind him; walked through the suburbs surrounding New York. He moved forward with the sun rising at his back until it was directly over head and then into his eyes. He walked on even after his vision went black and his ears ceased to hear. He put as much distance as possible between the Hold and his charge.

“Sweetie! Stop!”

A voice, a female. Laine couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he’d die. And he couldn’t die without making sure his boy was safe. Tears burned his raw cheeks. He knew he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail.

“Honey, please…” the woman begged.

“Not New York. Please,” Laine rasped desperately. “Anywhere… not New York…” And he collapsed, his arms still locked around the five-year-old he held to so desperately.

xXx

December, 1985

Pennsylvania, Ford Memorial Hospital

Three days after the destruction of Club Slasher

Laine woke slowly. Bright light, amplified by the colorless walls of the room, stabbed at his eyes and he quickly shut them. Confusion clouded his mind. Where was he? There was a bed underneath him. He was warm, the room heated. Where was his little boy? Needing answers, Laine sat and squinted through the glare.

Not two feet from him was another bed. This one had metal machines surrounding it with tubes of all sizes and colors running from them and onto the bed. It took Laine a long minute to realize that it was his charge all those devices were attached to. He quickly jumped from his own bed and went over to the small boy. He held a taped hand in his own and was pleased with the warmth it held.

He remembered struggling to carry him out of New York City. He’d fought exhaustion and pain for as long as he could, but snow had begun to fall. The little boy still hadn’t woken and his lips had turned blue from the cold. Laine vaguely remembered a woman’s voice. Then nothing. Just darkness. They were obviously in a hospital now, but where? And what would happen? Would they be separated and sent to different foster homes?

Just then the door to their room opened and a middle-aged nurse walked in. “Hello. I’m Beth.” She smiled warmly and pulled up two chairs next to the bed. “Sit with me.”

Laine hesitated but decided he gained nothing from being difficult. Carefully he sat down next to her, keeping a hold of his charge’s hand.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions. I have a few myself. What’s your name?”

He eyed her warily. “Laine. Where’re we at?”

“You’re at Ford Memorial Hospital in Pittsburg. Cindy Mason brought you here when she couldn’t wake either of you. She wanted to stay, but she had work and her own children to care for.”

He nodded, saying nothing.

“Where are your parents?”

His eyes unfocused. He was tired and very worried about what was best for them at this point. They still needed adult help if they were to survive, but it would be a very fine line to walk. If he said the wrong things, they could be hunted by those who ran the black-market or separated by Social Services. No. The whole truth couldn’t be said, but the right amount would save them. It was all up to him to keep them safe.

“We don’t have any. We’re orphans. We lived at Wright Orphanage in NYC,” he said slowly, being careful of his words. “It burned down.” He hesitated as the woman’s eyes filled with tears. So far so good. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “But we made it. Fire trucks came and they fought the fire. It was night. People were everywhere. We tried to stay out of the way. Some kids were hurt and needed help, ya know? But then this man came up to us. He said we were supposed to come with him. I didn’t think he was lyin.”

“Oh, you poor things.” Beth wrapped an arm around him as he paused. “Can you tell me who he was? Can you tell me what he did to you?”

Laine nodded jerkily. “He… He took us to his house. He put us in the closet. He said we… we were his pets.” Anxiety and terror rose up to choke him, a delayed reaction. “I’m not sure how long we’ve been there, but I got us out as soon as I could. I swear! I did all I could to protect him!”

“Of course you did.” Beth’s arms tightened around him. He had to fight not to shove her away. “I know you did all you could. You got out alive and with your friend. That took bravery and strength. I’m amazed you got away at all! How did you escape?”

Laine thought fast, brow scrunched. “He usually didn’t drink while they played with us, not both at once, but this time… This time he got drunk. When he passed out, we ran out of the city before hitchhiking. He swore he’d find us if we ran. I couldn’t go to the hospital there! You understand, don’t you?”

“You did the right thing,” she agreed.

Laine stared into her eyes, demanding truth. “Will he be alright?”

“We hope so, but he’s in serious condition. His insides have been damaged by the starvation and severe malnourishment, but it isn’t critical. He should recover with care. Unfortunately, because he was weak the injuries he sustained when…” She hesitated, swallowing. “When he was raped, the internal injuries were more damaging. His organs are bruised, but luckily there wasn’t as much tearing as there could have been. He’s going to be sick for awhile, but he’ll recover.”

Laine turned his eyes back to the boy in the bed. He looked so very small lying there like that. His hand tightened around the limp one. He lowered his head and wished with all his might that he would get better soon.

“Laine? Did you hear me?”

“What?” He didn’t know how much more he could take at the moment.

“Since you have no parents, I asked if you would try and answer the questions on these forms for me. I’ll write all you know down,” she coaxed.

“Okay.”

“Your whole name, date of birth. Same for your friend.”

“Laine. November 15th. I’m seven.”

His mind raced in panic. He couldn’t hesitate long or his story would be questioned. If he grew up with the boy, he’d know these answers for him, too. His hand began to tingle and suddenly his pupils shrank as he reached for the information he needed. It was slightly distorted, and he squinted hard trying to see it.

“…Hale… ah, five years old… July, um… 31^st.”

“Do you know the address to Wright Orphanage? I’ll put that for where you were born and last known address.”

“1457 13th Street, New York, New York.”

“Do you know if you two are allergic to anything?”

“I dunno.”

“Do you know the name of the hospital or doctor that treated either of you before?”

“Ummm… No.”

“That’s okay.” She patted his knee. He had an absurd urge to bite her. “You’re doing wonderfully. What’s the name of the school you attended?”

“Wright had teachers and classrooms there. You didn’t leave for school ‘til you got older. Hale and I hadn’t left yet.”

“Thank you. I think that’s plenty for now. You need your rest, and I’m sure the police will want a statement from you. Don’t be afraid, Laine. We will protect you.”

Laine nodded and allowed Beth to tuck him in. She wasn’t gone a second, however, before he was back out of bed and by Hale’s side. The boy’s expression was peaceful as he slept. He didn’t look as thin or gaunt as it had in the Hold, so Damien must have fed him well. His dark messy hair was the same as ever and his cute turned-up nose and full lips made him look a bit like an angel. Tenderly, Laine brushed back Hale’s bangs and kissed him on his scarred forehead before happily crawling into bed. Hale was his now. Nothing would hurt him again.

xXx

A few days later, Laine was sitting in a large chair with his legs drawn up underneath him. He wore white cotton pants and no shirt. White bandages wrapped around his torso from navel to chin and down his arms to his wrists. Hale lay within reach on a hospital bed, still asleep. Laine turned his eyes away from the boy and back to the coloring book in his lap. He usually wasn’t much for such stupid activities, but he was bored.

“Wha…?”

Laine’s head snapped up and he found himself staring into Hale’s cloudy eyes. “Hale! You thirsty?”

The boy nodded and smiled shyly. “Hale?”

“Well, I had to tell them something, so that’s your name now. Hale.” Laine gently and carefully helped him drink the water.

“Oh…” Hale couldn’t stop looking at his savior. He felt indescribably happy that Laine was there taking care of him. “I like it… Hale… I…” His voice trailed off as embarrassment and fear of rejection started coursing through him “I want to be your Hale.”

Laine ruffled his hair. “I’m glad ‘cause you are mine, Hale. I’m never letting you go.”

Hale nodded and tearfully hid his face in Laine’s shirt, grateful to be claimed. It was so amazing to him that someone would even want him. First the Dursleys, then the Hold master, and then his Master. They all left him. He was a bad filthy Freak, wasn’t he? Fear threatened to take over. Blood. He still saw it behind his eyes. The only thing that kept him calm was Laine’s arms around him.

Laine held the boy for a while before pulling away and carefully capturing Hale’s small hands in his own. “I need you to listen to me, Hale. You can’t tell ‘em anything about what happened to you. No matter how nice they are, they’ll try separating us if they know. You don’t want that, do you, Hale? You’ve got to trust me and do as I say. I’m going to protect you.”

Hale looked into Laine’s fierce face and nodded again. He didn’t want to go anywhere without him. Laine had saved him and was protecting him. No one ever had done that, not even Master. And he was scared. He’d never been in a hospital before, and he hurt. He looked at the wires going into him and the machines around his bed. For a moment, he felt like he would panic, but then he looked back at Laine and relaxed. Mentally, he gave over his trust. He put himself in Laine’s hands. He would obey and trust Laine to take care of him. He wouldn’t be afraid.

“Yes, Laine,” he said solemnly, staring straight into those beautiful sky-blue eyes.

Laine climbed into the bed. “I’ll make sure we’re happy and safe real soon.”

Hale sighed and leaned into him. “I love you.”

Laine smiled faintly, a starburst of warm emotion in his chest. He was seven years old, and that was the first time he’d ever heard those words. He stared into precious green eyes, knowing he’d be devoted to this little boy for the rest of his life. “How do you feel?”

Tears spilled down Hale’s pale cheeks. “Hurts.”

“I know it does.” He cuddled the boy closer. “Just go to sleep. When you wake up, it’ll be a lil’ better.”

Before Hale could respond, the door opened. Laine looked up to find a man in a business suit stepping into their room. Laine wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what this person was. He tensed, his knuckles turning white around the bed railing. He’d thought he’d avoided this, but the FBI was here and wanted to question them. He wondered desperately what he’d said that had given him away.

“Hello, Laine, Hale. I’m George. How are you two feeling?”

“Better,” Laine answered shortly while Hale just stared with big eyes.

“That’s good.” The man smiled and stepped closer. “I know you’ve been through a lot and you’ve been wonderful at answering everyone’s questions.”

Laine’s glare intensified as he clutched Hale even closer.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to ask you more. In fact, I’m here to give you the good news and my thanks. We’ve caught the man who kidnapped you. He was told that you were willing to testify against him and he confessed. You won’t have to go to trial.”

Laine smiled genuinely, relief washing all his tension away. He was surprised it had been that easy, but he wouldn’t complain.

“The funny thing is…” the man stepped closer. “He remembered you, Laine, but not Hale.”

Laine cursed himself for thinking even for a moment something would go his way. “Course he’d say that!” His hold on Hale tightened.

The blood drained from Hale’s face and he buried his face against Laine’s chest. He didn’t want to go back to the Hold. Laine was hurt there and at the club. And Hale had been hurt, too… Hurt so bad… –BANG blood smeared on the wall – pounding heat, suffocating pain – the belt falling CRACK SNAP – Hale broke into hysterical sobs as he clung desperately to his new Master. He didn’t want anyone to take him away from Laine! He wouldn’t go!

Laine tried to soothe him by rocking gently back and forth. His eyes never left the FBI agent. “What do you want?” he demanded hotly.

The man looked shocked. “I want to help you. I need the truth.”

“I’ll give you information.” Laine’s voice slowed and sharpened, all the humanity drained from his eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild creature. The officer shifted backward, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. “Some. You won’t come back for more. You won’t use us as bait. I won’t let nothing hurt Hale again. Understand?”

Hale’s sobs had finally disintegrated into soft, breathy whimpering.

There was a pause before the man said, “You have a deal. I’ll make sure you stay together and out of New York. But I need to know who did this to you. The truth this time or no deal!”

Hale, face still wet with tears, stared up at his protector in adoration.

Thirty minutes later, Laine watched the man go. He satisfied with the deal they’d struck. He just hoped no one from the black-market found them and got revenge. His hold on Hale tightened. Even if they did, Laine would be ready to fight. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them. He’d promised to take care of Hale, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

Chapter end.

A/N: Wright Orphanage is fictional, as is all other places, including Club Slasher and the Hospital.
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Freedom In Chains