whatwekeep | Fic: Controlled Violence, Ch. 17/30

Characters: (for this chapter) Liev Schreiber, Hunter Parrish, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christian Kane, Nick Oliveri, mentions of Jensen Ackles and Michael C. Hall
Rating: R
Warnings: Slavery, Profanity
Word Count: 1,479

Previous Parts: Ch. 1: Liev's Provenance, Ch. 2: Liev v. Madsen, Ch. 3: Lord Bale's Gym, Ch. 4: The Charity Ward, Ch. 5: On Tour, Ch. 6: An Unwelcome Interruption, Ch. 7: Hunter's Provenance, Ch. 8: Home Sweet Home, Ch. 9: Training Begins, Ch. 10: A Fighter's Life, Ch. 11: Growing Up, Ch. 12: Music, Tattoos, and Women, Ch. 13: Liev Fights, Ch. 14: Done Talking, Ch. 15: A Born Boxer, Ch. 16: The Indigo Blues

Summary: In an age when slavery is mandated by law, a type of gladiator-style fighting has arisen. Liev is an aging fighter who brings extra income to Lord Bale's household by training other fighters. Hunter is the newest fighter in Lord Bale's stable, and is preparing for his first official fight.

Author's Notes: Character photos for Lord Bale's household can be found here. Thanks to

poisontaster for opening up this sandbox, to

devilc for introducing me to it, and to

fleurlb for some choice casting suggestions.

Lord Bale's House, Present Day

This was it. This was really, really it. Liev was in a meeting with some man in a suit that had shown up this morning. Michael was there. They were negotiating his fight. Hunter's hand shook as he tried to cut up a bell pepper for breakfast. It got bad enough that Carmine actually took the knife from him to do it himself and made Hunter sit the hell down. Charlie scooted up next to him on the wooden bench, one of two the fighters used for their meals, set up on either side of the long, well-used kitchen table. He hung an arm over Hunter's shoulders. "It's gonna be fine, kid. Liev wouldn't let them put you in a bad fight." He squeezed Hunter in a sideways hug. "Really. It'll be fine."

***

Jeff hadn't been entirely receptive to the idea of Kane signing on for a professional MMA bout. His first reaction was anger that Kane would even want to do such a thing, feeding into that whole sick gladiator system, followed by amusement when Hunter's provenance, complete with picture, was presented to him by Jensen. "He's very inexperienced," Jensen had noted, as gravely as he noted everything. "I can negotiate the fight, if you like." Polite as always, he didn't bring up the fact that it would be entirely improper for Kane, Jeff's fucking Agent, to negotiate a fight on his own behalf. And of course Jensen knew how to go negotiate a fight. Why? Jeff didn't know and preferred not to ask. He'd just take it on faith, because Jensen was good like that.

The whole idea was insane. Completely, patently insane. But there was no talking Kane out of it, and Jeff wasn't sure why.

"What is this, you oaf? Some schoolyard crush? You can tell him you like him, you don't have to hit him."

"Maybe I just want to try it, did you think of that? Maybe I don't want to be your damn Agent forever," Kane snarled from behind his ridiculous black glasses. It was hard to take him seriously with those things on, but at least he wasn't throwing things.

"Chris, think about what you're saying." Teasing wasn't doing the trick, so maybe logic would work. Stranger things had happened. "I'll be the first to admit I'm no spring chicken, so I don't feel an ounce of shame in telling you you're too damn old to become a fighter."

Kane sighed and gripped the arms of his chair, looking away. "I need to do this, Jeff. I made a promise to a friend. And I've been training. It won't be bad, I promise. Just..."

Jeff heard the unspoken words loud and clear. Just let me do this and don't ask too many fucking questions. Fine. He owed Kane that much. "All right, all right. What do you need me to do?"

***

Not a month. Not even a month. Not even two whole weeks. Nine days. Nine days. It repeated in Hunter's head all morning, all afternoon, and well into the night as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Nine days. Reverberating like a mantra, drowning everything else into background noise. Nine days, which meant six, no, five more days to train and three days to rest. Nine days. Nine.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Liev came knocking on his door. He didn't wait for Hunter to answer, just slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He sat down on Hunter's chair and pulled it up next to the bed. "Don't even try to pretend you're sleeping, kid. I'd swear I was psychic because I can hear the gears in your head turning, it's that fucking loud."

Hunter stirred in the bed, feeling like maybe he should get up or something. Liev's hand on his shoulder stayed him.

"No, stay put, kid. We need to talk." And then Liev was silent for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. For some reason, the voices in Hunter's head had quieted, and all he could hear was Liev's breathing, even and deep, and the creak of the chair as Liev leaned back.

Finally, Liev said in a quiet voice, "Do you think I'm a bad trainer, kid?"

At that, Hunter raised himself up on his elbows, turning toward Liev. "No. No, of course not."

"That's good," Liev replied, nodding his head in the semi-darkness. "Because I'm not. I'm a damn good trainer. And you're ready for this. Maybe you don't have much experience, but you can take care of business, all right? I made sure of that."

Hunter lowered himself back onto his thin mattress and nodded numbly, trying to trust Liev, who had never given him reason for doubt.

"Hunter?"

"Yeah?"

"This is it for you, you know. You can't..." Liev sighed. "You can't go back to being a body slave, you know that, right? And you're sure as hell not big enough to work security. This is it, and it's a hell of a lot better than a lot of things slaves end up doing."

"Right," Hunter said, trying and failing to keep the hesitation from his voice. He knew there were worse things, but for some reason he couldn't think of them right at the moment.

"Tomorrow, after we're done training, I'm going to take you out. There's something I want to show you." Liev's eyes glinted darkly in the dim light as he stood. "You get some rest." He put a hand on Hunter's forehead and smoothed his hair back. "Everything's going to be fine, kid. You'll just have to trust me on that one."

The warmth from his hand lingered long after he left.

***

Nick was sitting on his bed when Liev got back to his room. Smoking.

"What?"

Smoking and smirking.

"You're looking to get your ass kicked, you know that."

Nick raised an eyebrow, grinning around his cigarette.

"You have a dirty mind. He's just scared. Like you weren't in there the other night singing him to sleep."

"Yeah, because he's my friend. You're not friends with the fighters." Nick drew deeply on his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"Are you getting catty with me? Jesus, Nick, I've nursed you through more shit than any ten fighters that've come through here."

Nick started laughing, his whole body jerking forward with the effort. Liev kind of loved Nick's laugh, ugly as it was. Nick laughed like something was trying to escape from his body and he was happy to let it go. "You like him. Oh, Liev. This is good. You do remember what happened when your own trainer fell for you, right?"

"Are you drunk?" The last time Liev had sent Sean into Nick's room to check for bottles was probably three weeks ago. He'd have to send him again tomorrow. "Nick, get real. Yeah, I like him. He's a good kid. I even like you, which is the only reason you have any teeth left in your mouth right now."

"Anytime, fucker." Nick grinned. "That'd be a good match, Bale can't lose money if it's two of his own..."

That was enough. Two long steps and Nick's throat was in his hand; a knee on the bed and Nick's head was making the short trip to the wall. "What the fuck are you getting at?" he growled. "You start talking shit to the other fighters and you and I are gonna have more than words. There is nothing," he slammed Nick against the wall again for emphasis, "going on between me and Hunter. So take your fucking grin and your stupid, drunk-ass innuendo and get back to your own room." Nick was starting to change color, the collar adding more pressure to Liev's grip. Liev relaxed his hand slightly, feeling Nick's pulse pounding hard between his thumb and forefinger.

"And the day I can't take you," he leaned close and growled in Nick's ear, "is the day they'll be putting me in the ground. I'd advise you not to forget that." He loosened his grip some more. Angry as he was, the trainer in him always came through. He held Nick lightly just above his collarbones, waiting for him to get his breath back.

"You don't have any reason to be jealous, you dumbass." Liev let go entirely when he was sure Nick could sit on his own and patted Nick on the chest. Nick avoided his eyes, still breathing heavily. "It's fine. Just get out of here, go sleep it off." Nick got to his feet unsteadily and headed for the door.

"Drink some water," Liev called over his shoulder to Nick's retreating back. He felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe he had been neglecting Nick a little bit, in this push to get Hunter ready for his first fight. "I'll run with you in the morning."

Ch. 18: The Lucky Ones