Fic: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (2/6)
Title: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (2/6)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Quinton McHale, Christy/Virgil, Lester Gruber, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Chuck Parker, Andrew Martin< /br>
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Hurt/Comfort
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: When Virgil falls ill, his high fever sends his mind back to the brothel during.one of his worst experiences there.
Chapter Summary: The crew rush Virgil to the hospital.
Date Of Completion: January 16, 2023
Dates Of Posting: January 16, 2023
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 3540
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Notes: The song Three Little Fishies (by Kay Kyser) was used in the episode Movies Are Your Best Diversion (1x5) and, yes, the crew saw the movie Penelope Of Blueberry Hill seven times! 😄
The entire series can be found here.
II
THE SPECIAL MASTER
We're bound together,
You and I,
Master and slave
With a chain of gold.
Your heart
Is never cold.
Unknown Slave
Slave Poems
1939 C.E.
McHale scowled. "Virgil thinks he's back in the brothel?"
"I think so. He keeps repeating that phrase, 'I'll be good', which is a brothel specialty. They're trained to say that." Gruber shook his head. "I could swear he's acting like..."
"Like what?"
"He's being punished."
McHale was certain that he saw something shift in Gruber's eyes, but he had other things to worry about right now.
"So he's no longer here on the Island?"
"I don't think so. He's been begging you for mercy. You're the High Master so he thinks you're the Brothel Master." Gruber kept his hand on Christy's arm, but he knew the blond's patience was nearly at an end. "He's really stuck back there."
"Yeah." McHale looked over at the terrified young man shaking as he knelt by the slave hut. With a sense of mild shock he realized that Virgil's legs were spread wide despite his fever and imagined pain.
They really pound their rules into your head, huh, Virg? And it's not just you, it's all the slaves.
"Skip, did you get any information about his training in the brothel?"
"Yeah, and I was surprised. He suffered three major punishments."
"Whipping, paddling and beating?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Could be this is his memory of the beating."
"How do you know so much, Gruber?" snapped Christy. He was clearly getting ready to defy McHale's orders and go to Virgil.
"My cousin worked as a guard in a New York City Gov brothel for about a year."
"Skipper, I gotta go to him," Christy insisted.
"We don't know what his reaction will be," McHale warned him. "Zangarra Fever can make patients violent."
"I'll risk it."
"All right, be careful."
Christy approached Virgil slowly. It broke his heart to see his best friend and lover in this condition, but he had to be strong. He stopped a few feet from the shaking man.
"Virg, it's me, Christy." Virgil didn't appear to hear him. Christy squatted down. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you." He carefully reached out and lightly touched Virgil's right arm.
Virgil flinched and he curled up even tighter. He whimpered as tears rolled down his cheeks. Christy reluctantly removed his hand.
"It's all right, Virg. No one will hurt you. You're among friends." Christy noted that Virgil's breathing was raspy and his body was gleaming with sweat. He would bet that tumble down the stairs would produce a spectacular set of bruises. FH carriers bruised far more easily than normals.
i can't imagine what you must have looked like after the beating.
He felt sick as the tropical sun beat down. How could one human being hurt another one so badly? The country he loved and was fighting for had areas of darkness in its past.
You'd think we'd have learned our lesson after enslaving a whole race of men, women and children simply because of the color of their skin, and now we're doing it to young men whose only 'crime' is to be cursed with a medical condition that requires them getting fucked at least once a day. And the normals don't like the treatment: homosexual anal sex. That isn't something they want to talk about, much less acknowledge.
Christy tamped down his anger. Virgil could always pick up on his moods. He needed to project calmness, not rage.
"C'mon, Virg, we need to get you to the hospital," he said quietly.
"Please, I'll be good," Virgil mumbled.
"You're always good." Christy tried to touch the trembling man again, but Virgil moved his right hand over his left wrist protectively.
McHale came closer. "We've got to get him to the hospital." He pointed toward the dock. "Bring him-"
Virgil started screaming. "No, no! Please, no more!"
"Gruber, Happy, help Christy bring Virgil down to the gig. I'll be right there."
Virgil fought as his three crewmates grabbed hold of him and carried him toward the dock. It was difficult as he tried to break free. He was twisting and turning, desperately trying to get away. His begging was terrible to hear.
The three finally wrestled Virgil into the gig, Happy and Gruber pinning his legs down while Christy straddled his chest. Virgil seemed to deflate and went quiet.
"Poor guy," Happy said.
"You aren't kidding," Gruber muttered.
"What's up, Gruber?" demanded Christy, ruminating over the fact that straddling Virgil's chest usually led to sexy times, not more anguish.
"If he's suffering the memory of a punishment beating, he's going to remember the aftermath."
"And the aftermath is...?"
"Well..." Gruber sighed. "Virgil would have been locked away in his room for the night."
"After a visit to the infirmary?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"If he suffered a major punishment beating, they would have waited to see if he survived the night before giving him medical attention."
Christy twisted around. "What?!"
Happy grabbed Gruber's arm. "Grube, what are you saying?"
Gruber shook his head. "They had to see if was 'worthy' of medical treatment."
Christy frowned. "But why? I thought the brothels wanted to keep their slaves healthy."
"Not when they try to break a slave to the saddle."
"They just left him alone?" Happy asked in a distressed tone.
"Yep."
Christy turned pale. "Then we can't leave him alone."
The Skipper arrived with an armful of white sheet. "Wrap this around him."
The men obeyed but the wrapping triggered a violent response from Virgil. He sobbed while struggling to free himself, his skin hot to the touch.
"No, please," he moaned. H started shouting as McHale piloted the gig after telling Chuck, "You're in charge. Call the hospital so they can be ready for us."
"Right, Skip." Chuck's eyes were sad as he looked down at Virgil.
The gig putt-putted across the bay. McHale dug into his pocket and pulled out a dark-blue slave ribbon. "Bind his mouth. If we're lucky, no one will be on the dock, but his raving will attract attention. We might be able to give him some dignity."
"Yes, sir," Christy said as he accepted the ribbon.
Slave ribbons were especially designed for minimal discomfort. Regular bonds often cut into the skin, especially the mouth. Slave ribbons could be tied tightly and leave only faint marks
Christy tied the ribbon around Virgil's mouth. His cries were immediately muffled. Christy grabbed his hair and tried to keep his friend's head steady.
The Taratupa Base was coming into view. Only one PT boat was moored at the dock, and no one appeared to be aboard. The gig pulled up to the dock and Happy jumped out and tied off the gig
"Okay, get him out and up to the hospital," McHale ordered.
It was easier said than done. The Fever gave strength to Virgil, who was strong to begin with. Even wrapped up in the sheet, he was a handful. Very few people saw the odd procession, but the word would spread.
Once at the hospital two orderlies greeted them with a gurney. They immediately strapped Virgil down so that he would not roll off the gurney because of his frantic motions, which increased with the strapping.
Virgil's exhausted crewmates hurried along behind the wheeled gurney. The orderlies deposited it into an examination room where Dr. Andrew Martin and his staff were waiting. McHale and Christy went inside the room while Gruber and Happy stayed in the hall, aware that the doctors and nurses needed room to work.
"Could be Zangarra Fever, Doc," said McHale.
"Okay." Doc Martin was issuing crisp orders, his calm competence admired by McHale.
Virgil was unstrapped and unwrapped, orderlies holding him down as he was examined.
The Skipper stayed for several more minutes and then went out quietly.
"How's it going, Skip?" asked Happy.
"Okay. Doc Martin is the best."
A yeoman approached. "Commander McHale?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Captain Binghamton wants to see you on the double."
"Damn, I wonder what he wants now."
"Maybe he wanted to send us on a mission," Happy said.
"Maybe. I'd better go see what he wants. You two go get something to eat at the mess hall "
"What about Christy?"
"Are you kidding? Getting Christy out of there would take a derrick."
The men parted as the medical practitioners continued to work on Virgil.
& & & & & &
Half an hour later McHale met Gruber and Happy at the entrance to the hospital.
"What did ol' Leadbottom want, Skip?" asked Happy. He handed McHale a Coke bottle. They were carrying their own bottles and one for Christy.
"You were right; he was looking for us to go on a mission. I explained about Virgil's fever and he ordered Carpy and the 116 out instead."
"Wow, Leadbottom's got a heart?" Gruber shook his head. "Who woulda thunk it?"
"Don't get too excited. It'll only be for a day or two, barring emergencies." McHale took a swig of Coke after using a bottle opener that Gruber handed him. "Let's go see what's up."
Virgil had been moved to a private room. When they reached it they were surprised to see an agitated Christy pacing outside the closed door.
"What's going on?" McHale demanded.
"They kicked me out!" Christy blurted.
"Did you cause trouble?"
"No, sir." Christy shook his head vehemently. "I stayed out of the way and kept my mouth shut."
"So why the heave-ho?"
"Who knows? You know doctors. They don't like people hanging around." Christy grabbed McHale's arm. "Skip, Virgil can't be left alone! Once those doctors and nurses leaves, that's what'll happen."
"Look, Christy, I know you'd like to stay, but..."
"No, Skip, you don't understand. Gruber says after the beating the Brothel Master would have had him tossed into his room for the night to see if he could survive until morning. To see if he was worthy of medical attention." Christy bit off the last words in contemptuous anger
McHale looked at Gruber, who nodded. "Part of breaking him." The Skipper swore softly.
Several minutes later, McHale said, "Listen, I've got an idea." His eyes lit up. "I've got to get back over to Binghamton's." McHale took the extra Coke bottle Happy was holding and held it out to Christy. "Drink."
"Skipper, I..."
"Drink. You'll do Virg no good if you collapse from dehydration. I know you can't eat right now." McHale patted the blond's stomach. "It's gonna be all right. Hang tight."
He left the hospital and Christy reluctantly took the Coke and opened it, handing the bottle opener back to Gruber.
& & & & & &
Christy was still pacing when McHale came back. He was drinking the Coke but stopped when he saw his commander. Happy and Gruber waited, too.
"Here you go, Christy." McHale produced a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket.
Puzzled, Christy took the paper and read it. His face wreathed into a wide smile. He turned and went into Virgil's room.
Dr. Martin was checking the blood pressure readings. "What are you doing back here? Shove off."
"Sorry, Doc, no can do." Christy waved the paper and almost added, "Read it and weep," but Doc Martin was a good guy. Besides, why irritate him more than he already was?
"What is this?" Martin snatched the paper. "What the hell is this?"
"Just what it says. The Skipper appointed me Virgil's Special Master. I can't be removed from his side under any circumstances except if he's in surgery."
Martin sighed. "McHale!" He rattled the paper.
"It's on file in Binghamton's office, here at the hospital, and that's my copy."
"I suppose McHale has a copy, too," said the doctor sarcastically.
"Actually, he does."
Doc Martin rolled his eyes and thrust the paper out to Christy. "You might as well be useful if you're going to camp out here." Martin gestured to Commander Molly Turner, his Head Nurse. "Molly will get you set up." He left the room
"Don't mind Doc. He had just come off a long surgery when Virgil was brought in."
"I don't mind. I've gotten way more bark from the Skipper."
Molly grinned. "Quint's going to be on the receiving end of some barking right now."
"He'll survive." Christy looked down at a restless Virgil.
"You'll need to take his temperature and blood pressure every half hour for the next six hours." Molly looked at Christy curiously. "Are you really staying here?'
"Yes, ma'am,"
"Then I'll get you a cot and sheets. A blanket, too."
"Thanks, Molly."
"Hey, you're going to be helping me out. I can direct my nurses to other patients because this task will be covered by you." She moved closer to the bed. "He's going to be hot while the Fever runs through him, but if he starts to spasm, call us immediately. The call button is right there on the nightstand."
"Do you expect spasms?"
"It's possible. Zangarra's no picnic."
"Yeah."
Molly gave Christy a few more instructions and then left, promising to return soon.
Christy suddenly felt exhausted. Had it only been mere hours ago that he and Virgil had been singing while repairing the climbing net? He reached out and lightly touched Virgil's hair.
"Aww, Virg." He sighed. "You've been through so much." He pulled up the lone chair in the room and sat down. "I won't let you be alone. I might not be able to stay every minute because of the war, but every minute I can, I'll be here."
Virgil had curled up on his side, favoring his left wrist, which was perfectly fine.
Odd what the mind can do.
Christy sat in the quiet room, the only sound that of Virgil's raspy breathing and an occasional moan.
He was afraid to touch Virgil, who flinched at anyone's touch. He was trying to process everything.
He only knew how much time had passed because of his responsibility to take Virgil's temperature and blood pressure every half hour. Molly returned and directed the orderlies to place the cot against the wall.
"Here you go, Christy. Sheets, blanket and pillow."
"Thanks, Molly." Christy took the bedding and put it on his cot.
"Anything to report?"
"No. I wrote down the temp and BP on Virgil's chart."
"Aren't you the efficient nurse? Pretty, too."
The orderlies left and Molly took her patient's temperature and blood pressure. She wrote the numbers down and filled a bowl with cold water. "Keep applying the compress. Before I go off-duty I'll stop by. Depending on Virgil's status, you might be able to go to bed yourself."
"I can stay up if necessary."
"Sure, but if it's not necessary, you're going to need to get as much sleep as possible."
"I've gone sleepless in this war."
"We all have, but it's not a point of pride to go around half-dead on your feet." She put her hand on Christy's shoulder. "He's going to need you."
Christy took a deep breath. "He's got me."
Molly smiled. She squeezed his shoulder and said, "See you in an hour."
She shut the door behind her on her way out. Christy dipped the cloth in the water and squeezed it, gently laying it on Virgil's forehead.
"It's okay, Virg. You're safe now." Christy was pleased that his friend did not shy away from his touch. "You must be awfully tired," he murmured. "Not only the Fever but the memories of your time in the brothel. That can't be easy, remembering being dragged out of your home and forced into slavery. It was no doubt a huge shock. I remember worrying about my test results. The waiting period was hell." Christy wiped down burning skin.
Hours passed as Christy listened to Virgil's suffering. He glanced around the room. It was certainly better than a ward. They had their own bathroom, a sink with cabinets filled with supplies that were handy like the bowl and compress. No doubt the doctors didn't want to put a Zangarra Fever patient in with the other men. Another thought nagged at him but he was too tired to figure it out at the moment.
Virgil moved, the rattle of the chains binding him to the bed causing Christy to frown. Luckily the chains had not been pulled so tightly that he was unable to move. Christy's frown deepened but he continued the treatment.
Tears streamed down Virgil's cheeks. The memories must really be rough, Christy thought sadly.
He knew that some men were annoyed by the slaves' tendency to cry far more easily than normals did. Luckily none of the PT-73 crew were ever annoyed, or worse, made fun of Virgil for the tears he couldn't help.
"It's okay," Christy murmured as he wiped his friend's face. "Your body has sucker-punched you more than once, but it's a beautiful body." He took a deep breath. "And I love you."
Christy felt hot tears well up in his eyes. Looks like now I'm the one crying. "Yeah, I know, no one cares if a slave falls in love with a Master, because slaves are just considered foolish creatures, but a Master falling in love with a slave? Hoo, boy." Christy shook his head. "But I don't care. I really, really love you, Virgil."
Christy paused, wiping away his tears. "Gloria and I are fond of each other, but we only got married to give our baby legitimacy. She knows I'm sexing you and doesn't care. Like most wives, she doesn't consider sex with a slave to count. But I do. I'm so in love with you."
Christy broke down weeping, resting his head on the bed as he grasped Virgil's hand.
& & & & & &
Outside in the hall, Molly quietly closed the door to Virgil's room. She leaned against the wall, holding the pajamas and robe she had brought for Christy. She would give him a few minutes.
She had seen many men break down by their buddies' bedsides. Men? More like boys who were barely out of high school. Most of them, anyway. She stared up at the ceiling while she gave Christy some time.
I had a hunch he and Gloria were only getting married because she was pregnant. They were too desperate. She shook her head. Falling in love with a slave! I figured as much. Talk about doing things the hard way!
Ten minutes later she opened the door, pretending to call down the hall to someone, giving Christy the chance to pull himself together. He stood up, keeping his back turned. He grabbed some tissues from the box on the nightstand.
Molly went over to the cot and put the pajamas and robe down. "I brought some jammies and a robe for you, hon "
"Molly, why doesn't Virgil have pajamas and a robe, too, or at least a hospital johnny? Why is he chained instead of being restrained the usual way? Is he in this room because of his sickness or because other hospital doesn't want to put him in with non-slaves?"
Molly turned around in surprise to face an angry Christy, his eyes bright with tears and righteous rage.
"What's all this?"
"Am I right?" He wiped his eyes with the tissues. "If he hadn't curled up on his side, Virgil would be on display, naked and spread-eagled."
"Not if you kept the sheet pulled up."
"He deserves better." Molly was about to retort when Christy's anger seemed to drain away, leaving him exhausted. "Aww, I'm sorry, Molly, I'm just so damned..."
"...tired." Molly's tone was kind as Christy collapsed onto the cot, face in his hands. "Seeing a friend suffering from Zangarra's isn't easy."
"It's hell."
Yeah, considering you're crazy about him.
"My nurses will be in to take temp and BP throughout the night, so get some sleep. Wear the pajamas."
"Not just skivvies?" he asked with a watery half-sob, half-chuckle.
"Not dress code in the hospital." She pulled the chair up to the cot and sat down, reaching out to squeeze Christy's shoulder. "I'll see about getting Virgil some pajamas and a robe."
"Thanks, Molly." He sniffled. "Sorry about coming apart at the seams like that."
"Eh, that was mild. Besides, you've been appointed Virgil's Special Master, right?" Christy nodded. "Then you have to stick up for him."
"I suppose it's all over the hospital by now." Christy wiped his eyes again.
"Are you kidding? A hospital is a grapevine with stock car speed."
Christy could not help but chuckle. "True."
Molly gave his shoulder one last squeeze and stood. "Now get some rest. You've got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. Nursing can take a lot out of you." Molly did one last check of Virgil and said, "To bed, Christy."
Christy started unbuttoning his shirt. "After a hot shower." At Molly's look he smiled shakily. "It's one of the few things you guys on the base have over the Island."
"Enjoy your shower."
After Molly left, Christy stood, looking forward to that blessedly hot shower. Virgil whimpered and Christy walked over to the bed, bending down to give the suffering man a gentle kiss on the forehead. He straightened.
"What's going on in that beautiful, fever-racked head of yours?"
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