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"INARA. I'm sorry, my sweet, but something has come up which I must attend to in person. It is not more important than my promise to you, but is a life or death matter, and more immediate. If I'm not back by the time you are ready to go to Ariel for treatment, call the comm code attached to this message. Everything will have been arranged for your passage and cure, and all you will have to do is get well and stay beautiful.

I enjoyed our time together, brief though it was, more than I can express. You are very dear to me, and I wish you every happiness. I hope that one day the scales will fall from your captain's eyes, and he will see the great treasure which he alone can have. Adeiu, sweetling."

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"INARA. I'm sorry, my sweet, but something has come up which I must attend to in person. It is not more important than my promise to you, but is a life or death matter, and more immediate. If I'm not back by the time you are ready to go to Ariel for treatment, call the comm code attached to this message. Everything will have been arranged for your passage and cure, and all you will have to do is get well and stay beautiful.

I enjoyed our time together, brief though it was, more than I can express. You are very dear to me, and I wish you every happiness. I hope that one day the scales will fall from your captain's eyes, and he will see the great treasure which he alone can have. Adeiu, sweetling."

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Damon’s body hits the floor as soon as the guards release it. He winces slightly as the impact sends a jolt of pain through his wounds and broken bones but otherwise doesn’t move. He hears the guards say something but doesn’t bother give meaning to their words. He doesn’t care. Lying there motionless, his breaths come slow, shallow, reluctant. Fresh blood trickles down onto his lower back from the handcuffs cutting into his wrists but he doesn’t feel any of it any more, numb to everything but the unending pain, the agony of existing. He breathes only because he doesn’t know how not to.

He hears a familiar voice approach and respond to the guards, and opens his good eye to stare blankly at the floor before him. The guards close the door, leaving the two fo them alone, and Damon listens to the silence pass for a few years before he musters up his failing energy and will to speak.

“I can’t do this anymore…”

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FLASHBACK
The boy is bleeding again, as always when he is returned to the washing room. How long, he wonders, will the master… no, Trihn. The devil's name is Trihn. How long will Trihn continue to torture the boy before he finally rends his plaything useless?

In the weeks since he was first brought to the room, Damon has been able to gather himself to his feet and make his way to the chair under his own power. It is supposed to be the task of his caretaker, to take him in hand, clean him up and tend to his wounds. Damon resisted as well as he could before giving in, but only the first time. He only had to have it explained to him once that if he returned to the mines without being tended to that his wounds could fester and bring his untimely death. As that would ultimately be caused by Trihn's hand, Damon saw it as a matter of continued defiance to comply. He's strong, stubborn, and there is no doubt that he will persevere until the rescue arrives.

Until today. Seeing him there, lying so uncharacteristically still except for his breathing, Xiang can almost see the cracks forming in the bedrock of his defiance. Ten weeks had seemed like nothing at first, after so many years as a slave. Alarmed, Xiang kneels down next to him, mindless of the blood staining his white trousers. He always has to change after tending to Damon.

"You must." Xiang tells him. Taking a chance, he rests a hand gently on the back of Damon's head, sending a violent shudder through the boy's body. The thick hair is still soft from the morning's washing. "Shortly after you went in, I received confirmation. Our rescue is secured."

He has to hold himself back from the exhilaration of it. To obtain release from under Trihn's nose would be a great victory indeed.

Breathing a sigh, Xiang takes his hand back. "I will tell him that you need more time to heal. He has damaged you too well this time. He may be able to call for you only once more before we leave this place. I promise you, it is not much longer."

END FLASHBACK

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"You must."

Damon feels his body go ridged in response to the hand on his head. He has to remind himself that it’s only Xiang. Still, Damon wishes he wouldn’t- he’s had all he can take for one day.

"Shortly after you went in, I received confirmation. Our rescue is secured."

Rescue? Yes, rescue… secured, but not guaranteed.

"I will tell him that you need more time to heal. He has damaged you too well this time. He may be able to call for you only once more before we leave this place. I promise you, it is not much longer."

Once more? How many times has he promised himself that? ‘Just once more and tomorrow I’ll end it.’ He’s put up with Crofton’s go se for too many years now, and the last couple months have only gotten worse, as if the hwoon dahn had nothing better to do with his time. Week in and week out Damon’s tried escape after escape, convinced he could always do better the next time. And every time it ended in the same way. Tomorrow? There is no tomorrow. There’s only an eternity of today. There won’t be any escape this eternity.

Still, Xiang’s promise is comforting. Maybe rescue will be different from escape… Damon sighs knowing continued hope will only mean more pain, starting with having to move. He tries to get a leg to push him onto his side but it doesn’t move far before sending a wave of pain though his body, blurring his vision. He stops with a groan, trying to catch his breath.
“How much longer?”

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FLASHBACK
Despair. That is what Damon has become. He has no hope, no memory of what it was to live without pain. Trihn seems determined to put any spark of that kind of pleasantness out of the boy's mind. It was Damon's defiance more than his physical appearance that attracted Trihn's attention, of that Xiang is certain. Recalling what the fire of defiance felt like, Xiang has come to the conclusion that Trihn has a special affinity for it. Or more to the point, for breaking it.

When Damon moves, Xiang nearly reaches to help him. He'll have to this time, but there is no hurry. The floor is spotless - he's seen to that - and the sheet Damon is laying on is sterile. He won't be in danger of infection yet.

"Two weeks," Xiang says in a whisper. "Possibly three, but no more. I am guaranteed of it.

And yet, even to him, it seems an eternity.

END FLASHBACK

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"Two weeks," Xiang says in a whisper. "Possibly three, but no more. I am guaranteed of it.”

Two to three weeks… definitely longer than he had been hoping for. He lies still for a long while, thinking, debating. He tries telling himself that he can survive one more day, but he knows it’ll take longer than that. He tries telling himself he just needs to keep going but his desire to end it all has grown passed the point of being able to ignore it. On the other hand… freedom could be just a couple weeks away.

Three weeks. He said three weeks guaranteed. In three weeks, I’ll either be free or I’ll end it. Finished.

Decision made, he tries again. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he gets his legs under him and manages to get up to his knees. Staying up is almost harder than getting up was and he looks ready to fall over again, but he doesn’t. He looks up at Xiang, a spark of light returning to his dark eyes from God knows where.

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FLASHBACK

Not until they were two days from Dis did their rescuer declare them safe. How Robert had managed to hire this particular individual, Xiang couldn't say, but he must have put himself into utter destitution in order to afford the fee. The man known only as Templar had come into the cramped cabin himself to inform him that they were beyond the point of no return.

"If there was going to be pursuit, they'd be on us by now," Templar said, employing a lazy but sophisticated drawl that reminded Xiang of a Cajun-descended student he'd had a few years ago. Was it his true speech pattern, or part of one of his many disguises?

Templar went on to add, "Best you go tend to that boy, let him know it's safe. Maybe he'll settle himself on down and sleep the night."

Swinging down from the upper bunk, Xiang went out to comply. He found Damon in the small common area, in the usual place. The lounge chair was turned so that he could rest his feet on the bulkhead and tilted about as far back as it would go. Damon was staring out into the black, calmer now than he had been less than an hour ago when he woke up with a start, soaked in a cold sweat. He refused to discuss it, but Xiang knew the nightmares he had suffered were not something new.

"Templar says we are in the clear," Xiang said. Waiting a response, he pushed up the sleeves on the sweater, the first he'd worn in who knew how long. His own college days, perhaps?

Damon remained as he was for nearly half a minute before his eyes finally turned to Xiang. It was as if he was afraid to acknowledge that Xiang had spoken, in case he was still trapped in the torture of his dreams.

END FLASHBACK

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Damon lies back on a chair, watching the black through a window in the lounge on… whatever ship he’s on. Time passes so quickly when he sits here, memorized by the beauty of the stars, lost in thoughts that he can’t make heads or tails of.

He constantly feels like he should be doing something, like watching for guards or making escape plans. But he’s passed that now. It took him a few solid meals before his stomach could hold its food. Xiang did his best to get him to pace himself but Damon didn’t think any amount of pacing would have made a difference.

The silence was what bewildered him most. Waking up in his bunk, a room. The dark was natural, the fading nightmare was too, but it was so quiet. No bells ringing, no guards shouting or slaves moving about… just… silence. And then he would stumble around looking for the light only to find he’s not where he expected to be. Even now, sitting in the lounge was weird, surrounded by metal and glass.

He pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. It even looked colder than the rock and dirt he was used to. He hasn’t gotten used to the temperature on this ship, though Xiang says it’s normal. He’s tried wearing warmer clothes but even wearing one shirt feels weird. He doesn’t know how Xiang can stand sweaters. Socks were wonderful though, and kept him a lot warmer in this strange place. He could spend hours just studying the room, telling himself that this is where he is. But he spent the most time watching space pass around him. It looked so much different up here.

"Templar says we are in the clear."

Xiang’s words slowly register, but like so many things he’s seen, heard, felt, smelt or ate in the last couple days, he can’t quite wrap his brain around the concept. It’s not a dream- it’s all too unreal to be a dream. He looks up at Xiang and sits up, words failing him.

For a long few minutes, neither of them say anything, just watching each other. Eventually, a smile spreads on Damon’s face. The smile breaks into giddy laughter that he can’t hold back.

“I wish… I wish I could have seen his face… when he found out…”

He falls back into the chair, clutching his side against the pain of his injuries as he continues to laugh.

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