Spliced: Part 3 - Chapter 12A
TITLE: Spliced - Part 3, Chapter 12A
AUTHOR:
flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting.
WORD COUNT: 3,524
SUMMARY: Part 3, Chapter 12 - Discussions and transitions.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Thanks to tuawahine for beta reading. And I don't know why, but I'm having major formatting issues. Sorry if anything comes out weird... >.> More coming soon, maybe. I know I said I would post more together, but I'm also behind on my NaNo story... sigh. So chapter 12 is it for now.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, it makes me update faster. ;-)
Chapter Twelve
The Andorian hadn’t called yet.
Matt had spent the past week ruminating on the information the clone had given him the last time they spoke. The revelations regarding Min’s background made him examine the clone in a different light now. Of course, Hollis’ prodding played a role in that as well. But knowing that Min was close to his own age, had had an abusive (but real) childhood, and had family in the form of siblings out there made him special. He couldn’t judge Min by the same standards he used for other clones. He’d survived the hardships he’d faced and obviously carved out some sort of life for himself.
But none of this changed the fact that he was Andorian. In Matt’s view, this split personality issue Min had created for himself was a clear sign that he was denying his true nature. While part of Matt could reluctantly admire the clone’s persistence in that denial, his imminent return proved that Min couldn’t escape his Andorian genes or his training. Despite his escape years earlier and however inappropriately he chose to act now, he was still a slave-legally and by nature.
And he wasn’t just any slave; he was Matt’s slave now. The Kartan had no intention of relinquishing his claim on the Andorian. Even though, as he’d discussed with Hollis, they couldn’t be sure what Min would be like when he returned, Matt would simply adjust his plans accordingly. Min was his, and he’d do whatever it took to tame him.
Hopefully, once the clone saw that Matt really would communicate with him this time-as Hollis had advised-he’d be more accepting of the situation. Matt would do everything possible to convince Min he was right where he belonged. He didn’t need to go off on his own; Matt was more than willing to take care of him. Hollis had lectured him on being more responsible, and Matt was taking the advice to heart. However, considering how difficult the clone had shown himself capable of being, Matt knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove all that to Min, especially if the clone fought him on it. Matt wouldn’t know anything for sure until the clone settled back in.
A week after speaking to the Andorian, Matt braced himself for another morning call, but it never came. Pondering the clone’s new game occupied Muldane’s thoughts for most of the morning, and his mood darkened. Then partway through the day he chided himself for letting it take such precedence in his mind. There were much more important things to think about, he told himself, without much success. The regular routine of work paled next to an incoming call from the infuriating clone. Min would probably piss him off, but it was more exciting than anything else in his life these days.
The situation sat so heavily in his mind that he found himself talking about it when he met Hollis for lunch at a café near his office.
Of course, his obnoxious friend laughed at him. “You're finally making progress, Muldane! You had a real conversation with him last week, and now you're anxious to talk to him again.”
Glaring at his friend, Matt said dryly, “After 30 years, I think I understand the concept of communication.”
Hollis just smiled annoyingly. “Sometimes I don't think you do.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “I took your advice! I talked to him, and we're talking again soon-if the asshole ever calls today. What more do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Just,” Hollis hesitated before continuing, “keep an open mind, that's all.” When Matt just stared at him, he added, “What I mean is, don't pick a fight. Look at your last conversation. When you actually settled down and talked to him, you got important information out of him.”
Matt frowned but he couldn't disagree with him. “Yeah, I still can't believe he's that old.”
“I can,” Hollis countered, an odd, pensive expression on his dark-skinned face.
“What?”
Blinking, Hollis started. “Oh, just from everything you've told me about him. He sounds experienced.”
“Well, he sounded like he knew what he was talking about when he was explaining about HCD. I did some research online and what he said was true. Not widely known, but true,” Matt informed his friend, an edge of surprise in his tone.
“I'd imagine he'd have more vested interest in knowing than most people,” Hollis pointed out.
“True,” Matt said wryly. “But there's still a part of me that doesn't believe it.”
“What, you think he was lying?” Hollis asked, slightly incredulous.
Matt shook his head. “No, I believe him. If he says they never gave him that stuff, then he's right. And it's good news, it means he's not going to die on me. But still... I don't know why, I can't get rid of this uneasy feeling.”
“Muldane,” his friend drawled, “you're that worried about him dying?”
Scowling at him, Matt held his tongue, refusing to admit it aloud.
“You are!” Hollis laughed delightedly. “Wow, Matt Muldane does have a heart. I gotta record this momentous day in history.”
“Ashen bastard,” Matt growled, glaring furiously at him. His grip tightening on his fork, he wondered if he could stab Hollis with it deeply enough to kill him. He glanced around at the other diners nearby. Even with witnesses to convict him, it would be worth it.
A smile still tugging at his mouth, Hollis asked then, “Does this mean you really want to keep Min? I mean permanently keep him, not your usual keep him until you’re bored routine.”
For a moment Matt debated how truthful to be. “Maybe,” he finally said, his tone non-committal.
Hollis gave him a pointed look. “I don't think you're going to find anyone else quite like Min.”
Choking out a laugh, Matt agreed, “Yeah, don't think so.”
Hollis stared at him, waiting for an answer.
The Kartan stubbornly held him off for a minute, but his friend was determined to wait as long as it took. Sighing, Matt finally admitted, “Yes.” At Hollis' questioning look, he clarified, “I'm keeping him.” Frowning as he thought of the defiant version of Min, he added, “For as long as I can, anyway.”
Hollis was nodding. “Eventually you'll have a fight on your hands.” His gaze shifted away, looking off into the distance. “This situation could get interesting real fast.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Matt concurred, returning to his meal.
They finished their food quietly, and as Hollis put his silverware down he asked, “If he hasn't called by the time you head home, do you mind if I come over? I'd like to be there if he calls tonight.”
Brows rising quizzically, Matt asked, “You trying to mediate?”
Hollis laughed abruptly. “I can if needed.” He added more darkly, “Which probably will be necessary, from what you told me. But I was really just curious to see him. I'm intrigued.”
Matt couldn't blame him for that. He'd be intensely curious too, if he were in Hollis’ place. He'd rather talk to Min without an audience, but at the same time, it would be nice to have Hollis' support, especially if he and Min came to verbal blows again. So he agreed to call Hollis if there'd been no word from Min by the end of the workday.
As they paused outside the restaurant, Hollis suggested, “My old college roommate has a medical practice in town. Could take Min to see him after he gets back.”
Matt frowned thoughtfully. He'd met Hollis' friend Kimbel a few times, and he was amiable enough. Considering that Min's circumstances weren't anywhere near the norm, if he was taking him to see a doctor, Matt wanted it to be someone trustworthy. A regular slave doctor couldn't be trusted to be discreet if anomalies popped up in Min's test results. And if there was anything else that such tests could reveal about the unpredictable clone, Matt wanted to know about it.
“That's a great idea. Can you ask him for me?”
Hollis gave him a smile-a kind one, not one of his usual teasing ones. “Sure, Matt.”
He thanked him and they both headed back to work.
* * *
He awoke in a small, oppressive cage.
The sight of it made him jerk up, searching for a way out. The metal bars seemed to close in on him, and finding the door, he shook it with all his strength. It rattled but didn’t weaken, trapping him firmly inside. His hands twisted, grabbing the lock of the door. He ran his fingers along it, feeling for the mechanism itself.
Not finding one, sweat broke out along his skin, and panic seized him. He looked beyond the bars, seeking anything that could help him. A puddle of light encircled the cage, but the rest of the room was shadowed; all he could see were the bars surrounding him.
His chest tightened as he recognized the scenario. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? Many times, something told him, but it still filled him with terror. He could no more control the whimper that escaped him than he could free himself from his prison. He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the bars as if that would make his claustrophobia vanish along with them.
Forcing his breathing to slow, he hoped calming himself would allow him to think more clearly. That’s right, he told himself, stop and think. You’ll find a way out. You can’t do it if you’re too busy panicking.
But the focus on breathing made him notice something else. A heavy metal collar enclosed his neck, chafing him, and opening his eyes again he looked at the similar bands trapping his wrists and ankles. The Alex part of him snarled.
He let the outrage fill him, preferring it to the blinding fear. Cursing, his hands rose to the collar, searching for the lock. Fear threatened to overcome his anger again when he found none, only a small metal ring breaking the smooth surface of the collar. He wrapped his fingers around the edges, testing its strength, but it was just as firm as the cage. He swallowed, trying to stay calm, and dropped his hands down to examine the cuffs at his wrists. They were smooth except for more small rings, and no lock was visible. Had they been welded on? He saw no marks to indicate it, and his confusion rose along with his dread.
Fine, forget the how. Who the hell had done this? Since he couldn’t see much, there weren’t any clues, and he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing before he woke up. For some reason not remembering seemed familiar. How weird was that?
He slammed his arm against the bars in frustration. Tempted to throw himself against the bars to break the cage, he examined their structure avidly. No, he could tell by looking at them that he couldn’t exert enough force to break them, especially since the cage was low, preventing him from standing. He could only sit in it, and without some room to gain momentum he couldn’t push with the required force. But Alex was frantic and pissed, and urging him to try anyway.
Then Alex growled when the realization set in that he was also naked. He hadn’t given it a thought until then, the claustrophobia making him irrational. Plus, when he was in a cage and collared, nudity wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence.
Whose prisoner was he? Alex snarled at the thought of being anyone’s prisoner, and the sweet memory of freedom filled him. Longing swirled inside him, and his hands curled around the bars. His breathing grew harsh as the claustrophobia clawed at him again. Even the cuffs and collar seemed to tighten against his flesh as the bars crowded him in. Gasping, he grabbed the door again and shook it, harder this time. It thwarted him, and he let go, lying back against the floor of the cage. He kicked the door several times, but only managed to hurt his feet and not the door.
Grimacing at the pain in his feet, he let them drop and lay there breathing heavily. Part of him wanted to keep struggling, but the voice of experience told him it would be futile. Better to be patient and see who was behind this. An opportunity to escape would come.
But he didn’t want to wait. He wanted out of this fucking cage now.
“Anyone there?” He yelled to the oddly silent room. “Hey asshole, if you’re there, let me out of this fucking thing.”
At first he didn’t hear it, but then slowly the footsteps grew louder. He quieted, straining to hear and searching the shadows for the man’s approach. The weight of the footfalls told him it was a man, and a few seconds later he saw the silhouette. Yes, definitely a man.
He sat up, unwilling to show any weakness before his captor. The confining bars still kept panic within reach, but he focused on the man in the room.
The figure stepped closer, finally coming into the light.
His muscles tensed as he recognized Muldane, his alarm rising. He was back with Matt? When did that happen? Why couldn’t he remember anything? His faulty memory scared him almost as much as the cage did. Swallowing tightly, he looked up into that familiar face.
The Kartan’s expression was hard, his features difficult to read. He wondered whether to say something, but the harshness of that face kept him quiet. Alex wanted to make some snide remark, eager to rile Muldane, but he didn’t let him have his way. Considering his current position, it would be best not to antagonize the man.
So he dropped his eyes to the ground and withstood the Kartan’s intense, lustful gaze upon him silently, waiting for the man to speak first. While he waited he wondered again how he’d gotten here, and whether Matt had discovered his loathing for cages, or if he’d imprisoned him in one on a whim. While half of him was mentally engaged in that, Alex was an enraged tiger inside him, claws extended and ready to lash out at the slightest opportunity.
Matt retrieved something from his pocket, but he didn’t have to look up to see what it was. The end of it trailed down to the floor, and if Alex were a cat, he would’ve hissed. Muldane was holding a leash.
He wanted to hide all reaction, but Alex was too strong in him. His fists clenched before he could stop himself, and he shifted backwards, away from the man towering over him. His back hit the other end of the cage, and he automatically made another quick search for possible weapons or tools, but there was nothing visible. Confusion hit him as he wondered why he was so ready to fight. He’d been leashed many times before, and it was better than the cage. Why did he dread this one so badly? What had happened that he couldn’t remember? If he was back with Matt, why was he fighting him? And why was Alex awake?
He hated being so lost. What the hell was going on? Suddenly a second set of footsteps approached them, and he became even more confused. The newcomer moved into the light.
It was a clothed Alex, staring down at him.
Suddenly everything was much, much clearer. He was dreaming that same dream he always had when he got close to switching personas. It was somewhat different this time, but mostly the same. Knowing what was coming next, some of his fear subsided, although the cage still kept him on edge. That other Alex pulled a hand from behind his back to reveal another leash. He swallowed hard, a hand involuntarily drifting up to touch the collar. Wondering what Muldane’s reaction to all this was, he glanced over at him.
The Kartan was glaring daggers at Alex, a familiar possessiveness in his expression. “He belongs to me,” he said forcefully, finally speaking. His voice was liquid velvet yet strong, everything a master’s voice should be. It made part of Min tremble, and not from fear.
Alex remained composed, unimpressed by the man in front of him. His eyes were bright with anger, the only sign of his inner ire. It always felt bizarre to look at himself like this. “Why don’t we let him decide?” he asked instead, curling the leash in his hands. The words were familiar, and he remembered then that Alex always said that.
His anxiety increased as he recalled now why he feared the leash so. It was the key to this dream, this nightmare.
“Fine,” Matt agreed confidently, putting his hand into his pocket again.
His fingers tightened nervously around the bars again as Muldane reached down to open the door, which suddenly had a lock. Once it was opened, Matt ordered firmly, “Come out, Min.”
Ironically after his earlier panic, he was hesitant to emerge from the hated thing. He always loathed this part, and some of this dream was unfamiliar, making him unsure of the outcome.
But common sense prompted him to leave, telling him it was better to be out of the cage than in it. He crawled out and then quickly stood up, backing away from the two of them. He didn’t want to be within reach.
“Come to me, pet,” his master commanded, that strong voice calling to darker urges within him. He held the leash in his hands, ready to attach it to the collar.
Gulping, he looked in the other direction, where Alex stood waiting. “We can be free, Min,” he told him, his voice gently persuasive. “You’re not a slave, you don’t have to belong to anyone.” To emphasize his words, he dropped the leash and stomped on it. “You decide your own fate.” His words drew other longings from Min.
He trembled, the two sides of his soul laid out before him. He had to choose one of them, and whichever part of himself he denied would be left in that cage, trapped in this room until he chose differently.
Until six months ago, it was always Alex and a faceless stranger in his dream. Although there was much he couldn’t remember, he did know that Matt was a recent addition. Before it was a man with a silken, commanding voice, a strong, intimidating presence, and an attractive body but a shadowed face. The embodiment of what he expected or longed for in a master. Apparently he had a face to go with the master now.
More memories flooded back, and he remembered that he was currently with Kate, but that the six months were almost up. The Alex part of him flared up strongly at the memory, whispering to him that this was the first time in months that they’d had this dream, and he sighed with relief. He knew this dream would recur every night until he chose differently. But for now, he still had some time, making his choice easy, and he let that part of his soul take over. The Alex standing nearby disappeared, leaving him alone with the Kartan.
Matt was still staring at him intensely, and when he saw the clone turn towards him, he said, “That’s right. You’re mine, come with me.”
He glared back at Muldane defiantly and said, “No, not yet. I don’t belong to you.” It wasn’t a final decision, but it was his choice for a couple of weeks more.
Matt’s face flamed, and the man growled, “You deny that your place is with me?”
“I decide where my place is,” was Alex’s angry retort.
Leaving the infuriating man sputtering behind him, he walked over to the rumpled leash on the ground and picked it up, cupping it in his hands. As he watched, the cuffs at his wrists slowly disappeared, as did the ones at his ankles and the band around his neck. Clothes formed on him, the same ones the other Alex had just been wearing.
He was master of his own fate. At least for now.
Alex’s eyes flew open and he gasped loudly. Sweat covered his body, and his limbs shook. Beside him Kate stirred, attuned to his unease. He tried to steady his breathing, to calm himself, and it reminded him all too much of the familiar dream.
He sat up, clutching his neck to ascertain that it was bare. Finding himself unfettered, he kept his hand at his neck and wished he could drive all remembrance of the dream away.
His subconscious was about as subtle as an asteroid impact. As always, it was telling him that either he belonged to himself, or he belonged to a master. He wished he could tell it to stop sending him signals, because he’d already gotten the message.
Kate, fully awakened by his movement, took one look at him and sobered. “Oh no,” she whispered, sadness in her voice. She knew what had happened, and what it meant.
The transition had begun.
Chapter 12B
AUTHOR:
flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting.
WORD COUNT: 3,524
SUMMARY: Part 3, Chapter 12 - Discussions and transitions.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Thanks to tuawahine for beta reading. And I don't know why, but I'm having major formatting issues. Sorry if anything comes out weird... >.> More coming soon, maybe. I know I said I would post more together, but I'm also behind on my NaNo story... sigh. So chapter 12 is it for now.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, it makes me update faster. ;-)
Chapter Twelve
The Andorian hadn’t called yet.
Matt had spent the past week ruminating on the information the clone had given him the last time they spoke. The revelations regarding Min’s background made him examine the clone in a different light now. Of course, Hollis’ prodding played a role in that as well. But knowing that Min was close to his own age, had had an abusive (but real) childhood, and had family in the form of siblings out there made him special. He couldn’t judge Min by the same standards he used for other clones. He’d survived the hardships he’d faced and obviously carved out some sort of life for himself.
But none of this changed the fact that he was Andorian. In Matt’s view, this split personality issue Min had created for himself was a clear sign that he was denying his true nature. While part of Matt could reluctantly admire the clone’s persistence in that denial, his imminent return proved that Min couldn’t escape his Andorian genes or his training. Despite his escape years earlier and however inappropriately he chose to act now, he was still a slave-legally and by nature.
And he wasn’t just any slave; he was Matt’s slave now. The Kartan had no intention of relinquishing his claim on the Andorian. Even though, as he’d discussed with Hollis, they couldn’t be sure what Min would be like when he returned, Matt would simply adjust his plans accordingly. Min was his, and he’d do whatever it took to tame him.
Hopefully, once the clone saw that Matt really would communicate with him this time-as Hollis had advised-he’d be more accepting of the situation. Matt would do everything possible to convince Min he was right where he belonged. He didn’t need to go off on his own; Matt was more than willing to take care of him. Hollis had lectured him on being more responsible, and Matt was taking the advice to heart. However, considering how difficult the clone had shown himself capable of being, Matt knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove all that to Min, especially if the clone fought him on it. Matt wouldn’t know anything for sure until the clone settled back in.
A week after speaking to the Andorian, Matt braced himself for another morning call, but it never came. Pondering the clone’s new game occupied Muldane’s thoughts for most of the morning, and his mood darkened. Then partway through the day he chided himself for letting it take such precedence in his mind. There were much more important things to think about, he told himself, without much success. The regular routine of work paled next to an incoming call from the infuriating clone. Min would probably piss him off, but it was more exciting than anything else in his life these days.
The situation sat so heavily in his mind that he found himself talking about it when he met Hollis for lunch at a café near his office.
Of course, his obnoxious friend laughed at him. “You're finally making progress, Muldane! You had a real conversation with him last week, and now you're anxious to talk to him again.”
Glaring at his friend, Matt said dryly, “After 30 years, I think I understand the concept of communication.”
Hollis just smiled annoyingly. “Sometimes I don't think you do.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “I took your advice! I talked to him, and we're talking again soon-if the asshole ever calls today. What more do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Just,” Hollis hesitated before continuing, “keep an open mind, that's all.” When Matt just stared at him, he added, “What I mean is, don't pick a fight. Look at your last conversation. When you actually settled down and talked to him, you got important information out of him.”
Matt frowned but he couldn't disagree with him. “Yeah, I still can't believe he's that old.”
“I can,” Hollis countered, an odd, pensive expression on his dark-skinned face.
“What?”
Blinking, Hollis started. “Oh, just from everything you've told me about him. He sounds experienced.”
“Well, he sounded like he knew what he was talking about when he was explaining about HCD. I did some research online and what he said was true. Not widely known, but true,” Matt informed his friend, an edge of surprise in his tone.
“I'd imagine he'd have more vested interest in knowing than most people,” Hollis pointed out.
“True,” Matt said wryly. “But there's still a part of me that doesn't believe it.”
“What, you think he was lying?” Hollis asked, slightly incredulous.
Matt shook his head. “No, I believe him. If he says they never gave him that stuff, then he's right. And it's good news, it means he's not going to die on me. But still... I don't know why, I can't get rid of this uneasy feeling.”
“Muldane,” his friend drawled, “you're that worried about him dying?”
Scowling at him, Matt held his tongue, refusing to admit it aloud.
“You are!” Hollis laughed delightedly. “Wow, Matt Muldane does have a heart. I gotta record this momentous day in history.”
“Ashen bastard,” Matt growled, glaring furiously at him. His grip tightening on his fork, he wondered if he could stab Hollis with it deeply enough to kill him. He glanced around at the other diners nearby. Even with witnesses to convict him, it would be worth it.
A smile still tugging at his mouth, Hollis asked then, “Does this mean you really want to keep Min? I mean permanently keep him, not your usual keep him until you’re bored routine.”
For a moment Matt debated how truthful to be. “Maybe,” he finally said, his tone non-committal.
Hollis gave him a pointed look. “I don't think you're going to find anyone else quite like Min.”
Choking out a laugh, Matt agreed, “Yeah, don't think so.”
Hollis stared at him, waiting for an answer.
The Kartan stubbornly held him off for a minute, but his friend was determined to wait as long as it took. Sighing, Matt finally admitted, “Yes.” At Hollis' questioning look, he clarified, “I'm keeping him.” Frowning as he thought of the defiant version of Min, he added, “For as long as I can, anyway.”
Hollis was nodding. “Eventually you'll have a fight on your hands.” His gaze shifted away, looking off into the distance. “This situation could get interesting real fast.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Matt concurred, returning to his meal.
They finished their food quietly, and as Hollis put his silverware down he asked, “If he hasn't called by the time you head home, do you mind if I come over? I'd like to be there if he calls tonight.”
Brows rising quizzically, Matt asked, “You trying to mediate?”
Hollis laughed abruptly. “I can if needed.” He added more darkly, “Which probably will be necessary, from what you told me. But I was really just curious to see him. I'm intrigued.”
Matt couldn't blame him for that. He'd be intensely curious too, if he were in Hollis’ place. He'd rather talk to Min without an audience, but at the same time, it would be nice to have Hollis' support, especially if he and Min came to verbal blows again. So he agreed to call Hollis if there'd been no word from Min by the end of the workday.
As they paused outside the restaurant, Hollis suggested, “My old college roommate has a medical practice in town. Could take Min to see him after he gets back.”
Matt frowned thoughtfully. He'd met Hollis' friend Kimbel a few times, and he was amiable enough. Considering that Min's circumstances weren't anywhere near the norm, if he was taking him to see a doctor, Matt wanted it to be someone trustworthy. A regular slave doctor couldn't be trusted to be discreet if anomalies popped up in Min's test results. And if there was anything else that such tests could reveal about the unpredictable clone, Matt wanted to know about it.
“That's a great idea. Can you ask him for me?”
Hollis gave him a smile-a kind one, not one of his usual teasing ones. “Sure, Matt.”
He thanked him and they both headed back to work.
* * *
He awoke in a small, oppressive cage.
The sight of it made him jerk up, searching for a way out. The metal bars seemed to close in on him, and finding the door, he shook it with all his strength. It rattled but didn’t weaken, trapping him firmly inside. His hands twisted, grabbing the lock of the door. He ran his fingers along it, feeling for the mechanism itself.
Not finding one, sweat broke out along his skin, and panic seized him. He looked beyond the bars, seeking anything that could help him. A puddle of light encircled the cage, but the rest of the room was shadowed; all he could see were the bars surrounding him.
His chest tightened as he recognized the scenario. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? Many times, something told him, but it still filled him with terror. He could no more control the whimper that escaped him than he could free himself from his prison. He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the bars as if that would make his claustrophobia vanish along with them.
Forcing his breathing to slow, he hoped calming himself would allow him to think more clearly. That’s right, he told himself, stop and think. You’ll find a way out. You can’t do it if you’re too busy panicking.
But the focus on breathing made him notice something else. A heavy metal collar enclosed his neck, chafing him, and opening his eyes again he looked at the similar bands trapping his wrists and ankles. The Alex part of him snarled.
He let the outrage fill him, preferring it to the blinding fear. Cursing, his hands rose to the collar, searching for the lock. Fear threatened to overcome his anger again when he found none, only a small metal ring breaking the smooth surface of the collar. He wrapped his fingers around the edges, testing its strength, but it was just as firm as the cage. He swallowed, trying to stay calm, and dropped his hands down to examine the cuffs at his wrists. They were smooth except for more small rings, and no lock was visible. Had they been welded on? He saw no marks to indicate it, and his confusion rose along with his dread.
Fine, forget the how. Who the hell had done this? Since he couldn’t see much, there weren’t any clues, and he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing before he woke up. For some reason not remembering seemed familiar. How weird was that?
He slammed his arm against the bars in frustration. Tempted to throw himself against the bars to break the cage, he examined their structure avidly. No, he could tell by looking at them that he couldn’t exert enough force to break them, especially since the cage was low, preventing him from standing. He could only sit in it, and without some room to gain momentum he couldn’t push with the required force. But Alex was frantic and pissed, and urging him to try anyway.
Then Alex growled when the realization set in that he was also naked. He hadn’t given it a thought until then, the claustrophobia making him irrational. Plus, when he was in a cage and collared, nudity wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence.
Whose prisoner was he? Alex snarled at the thought of being anyone’s prisoner, and the sweet memory of freedom filled him. Longing swirled inside him, and his hands curled around the bars. His breathing grew harsh as the claustrophobia clawed at him again. Even the cuffs and collar seemed to tighten against his flesh as the bars crowded him in. Gasping, he grabbed the door again and shook it, harder this time. It thwarted him, and he let go, lying back against the floor of the cage. He kicked the door several times, but only managed to hurt his feet and not the door.
Grimacing at the pain in his feet, he let them drop and lay there breathing heavily. Part of him wanted to keep struggling, but the voice of experience told him it would be futile. Better to be patient and see who was behind this. An opportunity to escape would come.
But he didn’t want to wait. He wanted out of this fucking cage now.
“Anyone there?” He yelled to the oddly silent room. “Hey asshole, if you’re there, let me out of this fucking thing.”
At first he didn’t hear it, but then slowly the footsteps grew louder. He quieted, straining to hear and searching the shadows for the man’s approach. The weight of the footfalls told him it was a man, and a few seconds later he saw the silhouette. Yes, definitely a man.
He sat up, unwilling to show any weakness before his captor. The confining bars still kept panic within reach, but he focused on the man in the room.
The figure stepped closer, finally coming into the light.
His muscles tensed as he recognized Muldane, his alarm rising. He was back with Matt? When did that happen? Why couldn’t he remember anything? His faulty memory scared him almost as much as the cage did. Swallowing tightly, he looked up into that familiar face.
The Kartan’s expression was hard, his features difficult to read. He wondered whether to say something, but the harshness of that face kept him quiet. Alex wanted to make some snide remark, eager to rile Muldane, but he didn’t let him have his way. Considering his current position, it would be best not to antagonize the man.
So he dropped his eyes to the ground and withstood the Kartan’s intense, lustful gaze upon him silently, waiting for the man to speak first. While he waited he wondered again how he’d gotten here, and whether Matt had discovered his loathing for cages, or if he’d imprisoned him in one on a whim. While half of him was mentally engaged in that, Alex was an enraged tiger inside him, claws extended and ready to lash out at the slightest opportunity.
Matt retrieved something from his pocket, but he didn’t have to look up to see what it was. The end of it trailed down to the floor, and if Alex were a cat, he would’ve hissed. Muldane was holding a leash.
He wanted to hide all reaction, but Alex was too strong in him. His fists clenched before he could stop himself, and he shifted backwards, away from the man towering over him. His back hit the other end of the cage, and he automatically made another quick search for possible weapons or tools, but there was nothing visible. Confusion hit him as he wondered why he was so ready to fight. He’d been leashed many times before, and it was better than the cage. Why did he dread this one so badly? What had happened that he couldn’t remember? If he was back with Matt, why was he fighting him? And why was Alex awake?
He hated being so lost. What the hell was going on? Suddenly a second set of footsteps approached them, and he became even more confused. The newcomer moved into the light.
It was a clothed Alex, staring down at him.
Suddenly everything was much, much clearer. He was dreaming that same dream he always had when he got close to switching personas. It was somewhat different this time, but mostly the same. Knowing what was coming next, some of his fear subsided, although the cage still kept him on edge. That other Alex pulled a hand from behind his back to reveal another leash. He swallowed hard, a hand involuntarily drifting up to touch the collar. Wondering what Muldane’s reaction to all this was, he glanced over at him.
The Kartan was glaring daggers at Alex, a familiar possessiveness in his expression. “He belongs to me,” he said forcefully, finally speaking. His voice was liquid velvet yet strong, everything a master’s voice should be. It made part of Min tremble, and not from fear.
Alex remained composed, unimpressed by the man in front of him. His eyes were bright with anger, the only sign of his inner ire. It always felt bizarre to look at himself like this. “Why don’t we let him decide?” he asked instead, curling the leash in his hands. The words were familiar, and he remembered then that Alex always said that.
His anxiety increased as he recalled now why he feared the leash so. It was the key to this dream, this nightmare.
“Fine,” Matt agreed confidently, putting his hand into his pocket again.
His fingers tightened nervously around the bars again as Muldane reached down to open the door, which suddenly had a lock. Once it was opened, Matt ordered firmly, “Come out, Min.”
Ironically after his earlier panic, he was hesitant to emerge from the hated thing. He always loathed this part, and some of this dream was unfamiliar, making him unsure of the outcome.
But common sense prompted him to leave, telling him it was better to be out of the cage than in it. He crawled out and then quickly stood up, backing away from the two of them. He didn’t want to be within reach.
“Come to me, pet,” his master commanded, that strong voice calling to darker urges within him. He held the leash in his hands, ready to attach it to the collar.
Gulping, he looked in the other direction, where Alex stood waiting. “We can be free, Min,” he told him, his voice gently persuasive. “You’re not a slave, you don’t have to belong to anyone.” To emphasize his words, he dropped the leash and stomped on it. “You decide your own fate.” His words drew other longings from Min.
He trembled, the two sides of his soul laid out before him. He had to choose one of them, and whichever part of himself he denied would be left in that cage, trapped in this room until he chose differently.
Until six months ago, it was always Alex and a faceless stranger in his dream. Although there was much he couldn’t remember, he did know that Matt was a recent addition. Before it was a man with a silken, commanding voice, a strong, intimidating presence, and an attractive body but a shadowed face. The embodiment of what he expected or longed for in a master. Apparently he had a face to go with the master now.
More memories flooded back, and he remembered that he was currently with Kate, but that the six months were almost up. The Alex part of him flared up strongly at the memory, whispering to him that this was the first time in months that they’d had this dream, and he sighed with relief. He knew this dream would recur every night until he chose differently. But for now, he still had some time, making his choice easy, and he let that part of his soul take over. The Alex standing nearby disappeared, leaving him alone with the Kartan.
Matt was still staring at him intensely, and when he saw the clone turn towards him, he said, “That’s right. You’re mine, come with me.”
He glared back at Muldane defiantly and said, “No, not yet. I don’t belong to you.” It wasn’t a final decision, but it was his choice for a couple of weeks more.
Matt’s face flamed, and the man growled, “You deny that your place is with me?”
“I decide where my place is,” was Alex’s angry retort.
Leaving the infuriating man sputtering behind him, he walked over to the rumpled leash on the ground and picked it up, cupping it in his hands. As he watched, the cuffs at his wrists slowly disappeared, as did the ones at his ankles and the band around his neck. Clothes formed on him, the same ones the other Alex had just been wearing.
He was master of his own fate. At least for now.
Alex’s eyes flew open and he gasped loudly. Sweat covered his body, and his limbs shook. Beside him Kate stirred, attuned to his unease. He tried to steady his breathing, to calm himself, and it reminded him all too much of the familiar dream.
He sat up, clutching his neck to ascertain that it was bare. Finding himself unfettered, he kept his hand at his neck and wished he could drive all remembrance of the dream away.
His subconscious was about as subtle as an asteroid impact. As always, it was telling him that either he belonged to himself, or he belonged to a master. He wished he could tell it to stop sending him signals, because he’d already gotten the message.
Kate, fully awakened by his movement, took one look at him and sobered. “Oh no,” she whispered, sadness in her voice. She knew what had happened, and what it meant.
The transition had begun.
Chapter 12B