Fic: Controlled Violence, Ch. 21/30

[khemlab.livejournal.com]

Characters: (for this chapter) Hunter Parrish, Michael C. Hall, Liev Schreiber, Nick Oliveri, Christian Kane, Sean Maher
Rating: R
Warnings: Slavery, sexual situations
Word Count: 2,311




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, Ch. 17: The Final Countdown, Ch. 18: The Lucky Ones, Ch. 19: Shall We Dance? Part 1, Ch. 20: Shall We Dance? Part 2

Summary: Hunter's first fight didn't go so well. Here, we find out what happened next.

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 Household, Present Day

It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It even kind of hurt to think, so Hunter did his best to take it slow. He lay very, very still in his bed, gingerly trying to take stock of his injuries. His whole face throbbed, but it seemed like his right temple hurt the absolute worst. His sternum ached when he breathed. His left side, close to his hip, felt like it was on fire. He thought maybe something was wrong inside, it hurt so bad.

So that was the body. But how had he gotten home? Even with his eyes closed, he knew he was in his own bed. There was no mistaking the stark smell of the bleached linens, the slight locker-room odor, his flat pillow. The certain ringing in the room that made it obvious without looking that there was no carpet on the floor. But parts of the previous night would not come to him. He knew Bale had attacked Liev, then turned on him. Liev. Oh god, that was what happened. He'd lost. And Liev had outright lied to him. His constant assurances that there would be no consequence for failure in the ring were total bullshit, and Hunter was as angry with himself for believing the lies as he was with Liev for telling them.

Slowly it occurred to him that he wasn't alone. Someone was in the room talking to him, might have been talking for a while now. He carefully cracked one eye open. It was Michael. He closed his eye again.

"I - I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Michael sounded earnest, the usual swaggering condescension absent from his delivery.

Hunter grunted in response. He didn't know why Michael, of all people, was in his room this morning. He tried harder. The side of his mouth hurt, but it didn't hurt so much that he couldn't talk. "Thanks," he said, not opening his eyes. His tongue traced against the corner of his mouth, tasting blood.

"Get. Out." Liev's growl came from the doorway to his room, and Hunter cracked one eye open again; the other seemed glued shut. The sight of Liev, his face covered in bruises and barely-formed scabs, made his anger evaporate. He pushed his right arm against the bed, struggling to sit up, but a sharp pain shot up his side and his arm collapsed beneath him, causing him to fall back against the mattress. Two of Liev's fingers were taped together, and he used them to point at Hunter, his eyes never leaving Michael's face.

"Stay down, Hunter. You stay put. Michael, you get the fuck out of here before I put your head through the wall."

"Liev, I didn't know, I thought..." Michael held his hands out defensively, his back nearly against the wall.

"You thought what?" Liev's voice was rising from a low growl to nearly a shout. "Thought it didn't matter if Bale lost a load of cash on this fight? Great plan there, Michael. You must have gone to genius school for Agents!"

A memory flared up in Hunter's mind, a conversation he'd not paid much attention to at the time. He remembered talking to Michael at Liev's fight against Clive. Michael had said something about how he always ran the numbers, that it was his job to make sure no matter the outcome of the fight, Lord Bale would lose little to no money.

"No, I thought...Liev, I thought you had fixed it. I thought you had fixed the fight." There was fear and confusion in Michael's voice.

Liev threw his arms up in frustration. "What the fuck makes you think, after all these years, I've decided to start fixing fights? Have you gone completely off your rocker?"

Michael was pale and shaking. From his vantage point, Hunter could see blood starting to seep through the back of Michael's shirt. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet, placating tone. "Jeff Morgan's slaves are not fighters, Liev. I know you set it up. I don't know how, but I know you set it up."

Again Hunter struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain. He succeeded only by grasping his headboard with one hand and shoving hard against the mattress with the other, leveraging himself upright, planting his bare feet on the cold floor. "What does he mean, set it up? I thought...you mean, he wasn't even a real fighter?" The sudden movement disoriented him and made him feel dizzy, but it was all starting to make sense now. He grasped the edge of his desk and shoved himself to a standing position. "Is that what you did, Liev? I thought I was training for a real fight, and this guy is just...just...who? I don't..."

He faltered and stumbled, very nearly falling - but Liev was there in an instant, and with one hand on his elbow and a strong arm behind his back, carefully helped Hunter sit back down on the bed.

Liev stood up and took a step back, running an unsteady hand over his head. "It wasn't like that," he said. "I didn't go easy on you, kid." The effort of catching Hunter seemed to have taken a toll on him, and he shakily pulled the desk chair closer to him with one hand and sat, both elbows on his knees, looking at the ground. "When Bale wanted to set your fight up, there weren't any full-time fighters available that would have been a reasonable match for you. So I asked a favor of a friend."

Hunter rolled his eyes and eased himself back down on the mattress. "That worked out real well."

"Yeah, well." Liev sighed. "Chris is a hell of a fighter, and if this moron here hadn't made some awful bets..." Glancing back at Michael, Liev's eyes darted down to the red blossoming against the back of Michael's white shirt. "Bale get to you too?"

Shrugging slightly, Michael glanced down at his shirt. He plucked at it as if it were a minor irritation. "Yeah. Just not in the up close and personal way he takes an interest in his fighters." A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'll, um, I'll just be going now." He looked down at Hunter, and Hunter would have sworn there was genuine concern on his face. "I really am sorry."

When Michael had left, pulling the door closed behind him, Liev said, "Listen, I know it doesn't seem like it right now, kid, but you know I don't say this lightly. You fought well last night. I'm proud of you." He patted Hunter's shoulder, seeming to know just where it wouldn't hurt. "Proud to be your trainer."

Hunter felt some of the tension drain from his spine and he smiled, more on the inside than the outside since his lips refused to move very far. The world couldn't be all bad if Liev still thought he'd done well.

"I looked you over last night," Liev said, all business again. "Nothing's broken, and as far as I can tell the worst injury is some really deep bruising above your hip. I'm sure you know where I'm talking about."

A choked little laugh escaped from Hunter's lips. "Uh, yeah. Kind of noticed that one when I figured out I can't stand up these days." His weak attempt at laughter turned into a cough, which made his chest hurt, which for some reason was even funnier, and he lay there shaking with suppressed giggles until his eyes started to water. It felt close to the edge, close to hysteria, but also like some sick kind of shared-misery bond.

Liev snorted. "Just what I need, another headcase."


The Indigo Blue, One Week Later

The painkillers were nice. They made Hunter feel as if he was walking around about an inch off the ground. He didn't know how Sean had scored them, but whatever favors he'd called in, it was definitely worth it. Hunter was even managing to play a decent game of pool, giving Nick a run for his money. It wasn't so much that the pain was gone, exactly, more that he didn't really care about it.

Lord Bale was gone, and Liev had said Hunter and Nick needed a night out, so they went and watched Benny's fight down at a small arena near the coast. It was a great match - Benny was so skinny it was easy to forget the advantage his long reach gave him in a knife fight. Benny's master took great pains to not let the word get out he trained in Liev's gym, so Liev wasn't even allowed in the arena. He thought it gave him an advantage when the bookies made the odds, and it probably did. Everyone knew Liev's fighters were the best around.

After the fight (which Benny won handily, and his smile afterward looked like it would split his face in two), Nick took Hunter back to the Indigo Blue, which Hunter wasn't sure he was allowed to do, but with his little pill buzz on, he kind of didn't care about that either. Add a beer or two into the mix, and all of his worries and problems just faded right into the background. He was nodding his head to the music and waiting for his next turn when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Hunter turned around and recognized his opponent immediately. "Chris!" he said, smiling, and reached out to give him a one-armed hug, his other hand occupied holding his pool cue. Chris returned the hug briefly and pulled back, a bewildered look on his face.

"Hey, man. I didn't do all that, did I?" His forehead was creased in concern.

"Oh, no!" Hunter realized on some level that he still wasn't looking so hot, but seeing the bruises and slowly-healing scabs every morning in the mirror had kind of numbed him to the difference. "This wasn't you, it was my master." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Not so happy when he loses a bunch of money on a fight."

The concern on Chris's face turned into something much uglier. "What? Nobody told me..." he started, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean, I didn't know that would happen." He put his hands on his hips and huffed out a sigh, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor. "I...shit, I'm sorry."

"No! No, you don't have to be sorry. You did good. You're a good fighter." His pool game all but forgotten, Hunter stepped closer to Chris, smiling. "Hey. I know I look pretty scruffy right now, but you still want to buy me a drink?"

Chris arched an eyebrow slowly. He seemed to be holding back a smile, but Hunter could see it in his eyes. He liked the way they crinkled around the edges, making Chris look much friendlier than the all-business fighter he'd met in the ring.

"Well, yes, I believe I do," Chris said.

Nick was already waiting with his hand out when Hunter turned to hand over his pool cue. As he took the stick, Nick grinned devilishly. "All right, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Soon as I figure out what that is, I'll let you know." He winked at Hunter and turned back toward the table, handing Hunter's cue off to another player before lining up his next shot.

***

"He hurt you." It was the closest Liev had ever heard Sean come to criticizing his master.

"Mmm," Liev made a noncommittal noise in response. On the one hand, he didn't want to discourage Sean's critical thinking skills. On the other, he didn't want to detract from the task at hand. "But you can make me feel better." He dragged the backs of his fingers down the side of Sean's smooth, warm throat, feeling the body slave's pulse beneath his touch, fine and steady. "And we have the whole place to ourselves."

Sean murmured, his eyes downcast shyly, "You sent them away." Liev could tell he was pleased, his cheeks pinking up just a bit in the semi-darkness of Liev's room. He'd dared to leave the door open, loving how he could see every detail of Sean up close in the soft light flowing from the hallway. In all of their stolen moments, he'd never been so bold.

"Mmm-hmm, I've got you all to myself." He pressed a lazy kiss against Sean's collarbone, his tongue tracing along its high ridge. "And I want you to be loud," he whispered against Sean's ear, pushing the other man up against the wall, making sure Sean could feel his erection pressed between their thighs. "I want to hear everything I do to you, baby. God, I've missed you."

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