Repercussions
...sharp-edged scales cutting into his back, jagged stone scraping his chest, his stomach, the front of his thighs... the crushingly heavy weight above him, bearing down on him... can't breathe... claws sinking into the flesh over his hipbones... the almost audible tearing of ligament as his hip was pushed from its socket... something rough and huge and cold forcing itself into his body ...
He woke gasping, wild-eyed, drenched in sweat. Zh'leet gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder, grimacing as he jerked away from her touch as though burned.
"Rhoi'i'dat'hzziu? It's only me. Zh'leet. I won't hurt you. Please, be calm..."
He buried his face in the pillow with a despairing groan, and she perched on the bed, stroking his mane, wondering what to do. The Ssii'iir desperately needed to sleep, but every time he dozed off another nightmare woke him just minutes later. She was afraid to risk giving him a sedative - she had no idea what it would do to Saiya-jin metabolism - but things had got to the stage where some kind of action was required. It had been seven days, and he was recovering well, physically, ruptured organs already almost healed by his astonishingly efficient metabolism, torn tissue mending, ligament practically as good as new. But mentally... She didn't know that much about his history, but she'd wager he'd never experienced anything like rape before - if nothing else, his size and strength would preclude the attempt. By any average being, anyway.
She slid a hand under his mane and kneaded at his strong, warm neck. He was tense and trembling: she brushed heavy locks of hair back from his temple and stroked the side of his cheek.
"Ssii'iir, how can we help you?"
Wearily, he turned his pale, drawn face towards her. "You can't. I can deal with this."
Privately she doubted it, although telling him that would probably only make him more obstinate. He could be as stubborn as his bondmate when he chose. She sighed.
"I'll call Zha'haabron."
The big Saiyan grabbed her wrist. "You will not. He has enough to worry about."
Reluctantly, Zh'leet agreed. While his bondmate had been unconscious, the new High King had split his time between Dhr'ovaanon's enclave and his own, flying between the two at least twice a day - a good hour's journey at his top speed. Now that Radittsu was out of danger, he had to give most of his attention to his new responsibilities, although he still insisted on visiting every day, and his presence soothed his bondmate - soothed both of them, since they worried so about each other when apart. But Zha'haabron was tiring, the stress leaving him emotionally ragged and uncharacteristically irritable, and Zh'leet was concerned about him. He wasn't getting anything like enough sleep, and he had more than enough to cope with at his own enclave: he really couldn't keep this up much longer. And Radittsu's so-far successful efforts to *mask* the torment he was suffering were draining his strength, even as they allowed his bondmate to function without the additional anguish of trying to deal with the Saiyan's pain. The sooner they could move the big male back to the royal enclave the better: she was sure he'd improve dramatically once back in his love's presence. And, she realised, brightening, that might be as soon as tomorrow, the way he was mending. Which thought brought her back to her present worry...
He was dozing off again, sheer exhaustion making it impossible for him to stay awake for more than a few minutes. She sighed and gently stroked his shoulder as he fell asleep...
...to wake minutes later, shaking, teeth clenched together to stop himself from crying out. Zh'leet was still sitting with him, her hand on his shoulder.
"Rhoi'i'dat'hzziu?"
He growled to himself and carefully rolled onto his back, ignoring the pain that started up as soon as he moved. Zh'leet inclined her head, frowning, her hand moving to rest against his face.
"That's comfortable?"
He forced himself not to wince. "Enough."
She nodded. "Good. Stay like that for a while."
"I'm thirsty."
She raised a beaker and slid an arm behind his shoulders, raising his upper body just enough for him to sip at the cool water. He drank gratefully, then settled back down. Zh'leet glanced at the monitor, then regarded him closely.
"Do you think you could eat something?"
He shook his head. The thought of eating made him faintly nauseous, although he'd had nothing solid for days. Zh'leet frowned.
"You'll have to soon, you know."
He gazed up at her, eyes already beginning to close of their own accord.
"I know. Just let me sleep now, yes?" Well, try to anyway, he added grimly to himself.
She sighed and nodded, resignedly.
And to the surprise of them both he actually managed to sleep for half an hour before the nightmare woke him. The ko'ish'n was quietly pleased. Maybe the change of position helped - he was no longer lying as he had been during the encounter, no longer subconsciously reminded of it simply by his posture.
It took him less time to calm down, too. She checked the monitor, nodding in satisfaction as various indicators quickly returned to normal. She'd keep him under observation for one more night, and if all went well she'd authorise his return for tomorrow. A fast vehicle could get him home in less than a day, and she'd travel with him in case treatment was needed on the journey.
The past seven days had been a logistical nightmare for Zha'haabron.
Vejiita had, as promised, set the zn'hre rescue operation in action while the new King was with his bondmate, and Zha'haabron had returned to his enclave to find the place in a state of chaos as Saiyan warriors forcibly moved irate R'ren'nkh'ia-jin out of their chambers to make room for the imminent arrivals. Most of them were sycophants from Zha'geekaan's court, and he really didn't care what happened to them - but at the same time it would not be diplomatic to upset too many people too quickly: his position was perilous enough without that. But to his surprise his own hostlings - loyal and loving to the end - voluntarily gave up their own chambers until he could find a more permanent solution.
His private meeting with Vejiita had been tense. The Saiyan warriors had managed to rescue 108 of the zn'hre safely: advising their masters that the High King required their attendance at the royal enclave was enough to convince most of them - under protest - to allow their slaves to leave. Which worked well enough, until the news that the High King was a zn'hre, instead of Zha'geekaan as they were expecting, made its way to the other enclaves...
It became obvious that despite the vows of allegiance made to them both, Zha'geekaan had never intended his heir to have the opportunity to rule. And seven zn'hre died, killed by their masters rather than allowed to escape captivity, and another three were badly injured before they could be rescued. And twenty nine seemed to have vanished off the face of the planet, either dead or hidden away. It was unlikely he'd be able to find out what had happened to them. In the near future anyway. He'd have to devise some sort of penalty for those who ill-treated or hurt his people. Another thing on the rapidly growing list of things to attend to.
Seven Saiyans had also died in the operation, six in straightforward combat and the seventh from third degree burns gained from forgetting to use sunscreen. Vejiita had not been amused.
It could have been worse. At least 111 of his people were safe...
They were currently isolated and under Saiyan guard - and at some point he'd have to decide how to deal with them. For now, however, he had more than enough to cope with trying to persuade Vejiita to deal a little less aggressively with the members of the court, preparing some sort of decree freeing his people - and making it enforceable - and assembling his own council.
He closed his eyes briefly. Tired, so tired. And he missed his bondmate so much...
It had been another long, hard day, and he was exhausted, not looking forward to the flight to Dhr'ovaanon's enclave. He stepped into the chamber and shut the door, leaning against it with a sigh, his eyes closed, lips slightly parted: Radittsu watched from the bed, the king as yet unaware of his presence since he'd demanded that Zh'leet not say anything about his return in her daily report. After a long moment Zha'haabron pulled himself wearily upright and headed for the ablutory, coming to a dead halt as he caught sight of the Saiyan - then his face lit up with one of his rare and precious sunrise smiles and he flung himself onto the bed, just stopping himself short of grabbing his bondmate into a bone-crushing hug. Instead, carefully cradling Radittsu in his arms, he buried his face in the big male's neck, trembling with happiness.
**Why didn't you *tell* me you were here?**
*Wanted to surprise you.*
**You succeeded!** He pulled back for a moment, gazing at his beloved's face with a faint frown. **What's wrong?**
It was pointless trying to lie. *Nightmares. Haven't slept properly since... I keep dreaming it's happening again. I can't stop.*
Zha'haabron held him a little more tightly, his body shaking with mixed anger and grief. **Oh, beloved...**
*Can you help me?*
The R'ren'nkh'ian blinked in surprise: Radittsu never asked for help.
**You think I might be able to?**
*You've - been through this before. I haven't. I need to know how you cope.*
Zha'haabron frowned. **It was normal for zn'hre. For most of us, from the time we could host or sire offspring we were forced to do so. We had no alternative - we simply had to endure**
Radittsu bit his lip. *Doesn't really apply.*
The king inclined his head. **I could try removing that memory, if you think that would help**
The Saiyan thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
*No. I'll keep the memory. But I need to learn how to deal with it.*
**What do you want me to do?**
*I don't really know. I thought maybe - if you made love to me, it might help...*
Zha'haabron inclined his head. **Are you sure?**
*No, but I need to do something to convince my body it's back to normal and should start behaving itself!*
Zha'haabron had straddled his lower back, smoothing cleanser over his muscular body, stroking and kneading in an attempt to make Radittsu relax, and for a while he was successful: his bondmate almost dozed off under the rhythmic pressure. Stopping before the Saiyan actually fell asleep, Zha'haabron slid off to lie beside him, running a hand gently down his spine to cup one firm buttock. Radittsu sighed and smiled - a little tremulously, it must be said.
*Right. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.*
**Are you sure?**
The Saiyan nodded, swallowing hard. Zha'haabron scooped up a handful of the sweet-smelling, creamy lotion he'd set on the floor by the sleeping platform, slathering his own erection and then gently stroking the rest between his bondmate's legs, his other hand softly ruffling the fur of his tail. He tried to roll Radittsu onto his back, but the big man resisted.
*No. I want it to be the same...*
Zha'haabron frowned. **But...**
*Please! Please do as I ask!*
Uncertain, unhappy with the request, Zha'haabron nevertheless slid onto his back, one hand still fondling his tail, easing his thighs apart and very carefully pushing into him. Meeting clench-muscled resistance that would mean pain if he persisted.
He paused, wrapping his arms around his bondmate's chest. Radittsu had gone almost white and was trembling, his hands clenched on the edge of the platform. Zha'haabron shook his head and pulled out, kissing the Saiyan's shoulder.
**Lie on your back**
Radittsu rolled over without arguing, eyes wide and fearful, and Zha'haabron sighed, abruptly changing his mind.
**I really don't think...**
*Try again.*
**Zk'vissin...**
*Try again... Please...*
Reluctantly, the zn'hre settled himself between Radittsu's legs and eased into him again - only to withdraw as the big Saiyan flinched and screwed his eyes tightly closed. Resting his head against the broad warm chest, Zha'haabron reached to stroke his face, then moved to lie beside him.
**Zk'vissin, you're so tense I'm going to hurt you. Let's stop. We can try again another time**
The Saiyan shook his head, his *voice* despairing. *I can't bear another night...*
**Will you make love to me, instead?**
*I can't!*
Zha'haabron slid a hand over his hip and cupped his groin, stroking rhythmically, caressing his tail, licking at his bondmate's shoulder and neck - to no avail. Radittsu remained unaroused. He buried his head in his hands and whimpered.
*I hate this...*
Zha'haabron pulled his hands away and gazing worriedly into exhausted, distraught eyes, then wordlessly hugged the big male.
**Try to sleep**
Radittsu shuddered. *I'm afraid to.*
**But I am here. I won't let anything hurt you**
The Saiyan gazed at him, expression almost childlike, hopeful and fearful at the same time.
*You promise?*
**I promise**
Within seconds Radittsu was asleep.
And Zha'haabron did something that was anathema to all right-thinking telepaths - he consciously, uninvitedly, invaded another's mind.
He flowed smoothly through his beloved's consciousness, deliberately disregarding those things that weren't pertinent, although just occasionally he was distracted by a bright emotion or glowing thought - most of them pertained to himself, and he smiled compassionately, love for his bondmate filling his own mind and making the invasion all the more gentle. Then he found it, the knotted tangle of memory and perception, where Radittsu's body remembered what his unconscious mind could not, associating it with nightmarish visions of what Zha'haabron had suffered, and the hatred of the perpetrators such images evoked, until the poor Saiyan's thoughts circled in an unending loop of pain and fear and dismay and unresolved anguish... No wonder he couldn't function.
Zha'haabron *cupped* the problem, delicately untangling the strands of thought and anxiety and redirecting them to less sensitive and more robust areas of his bondmate's mind, where their impact could be dulled or cushioned or simply overwhelmed by more pertinent - and important - considerations. The memory of pain he bled off into his own mind, where it could be more efficiently dealt with.
It was tricky work, and he was trembling with fatigue by the time he had finished. But it was worth it. At peace, Radittsu sighed and finally, finally relaxed, wrapping strong arms around his beloved, nestling closer into his embrace. Zha'haabron gently kissed his brow and settled himself to sleep, trying to ignore the throbbing ache centred between his eyes that spread far back into his head. It wasn't important. His bondmate was the only thing that mattered, tonight.
Radittsu woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of the weight of his bondmate's head on his shoulder. He felt deliciously refreshed, quiet, calm - and almost dizzily light-headed.
And aroused.
He gently rolled Zha'haabron onto his back and settled himself between long blue legs as the king stirred, sleepily, and reached a hand to grasp his mane. Kissing his beloved's throat, he slid into the cool, welcoming body as Zha'haabron's legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The R'ren'nkh'ian gazed up into his face, smiling.
**That's better**
Radittsu paused for a moment, frowning slightly, then inclined his head.
*What did you do?*
**Not much. Just a little untangling to try to help you. How do you feel?**
Radittsu grinned hugely as he began to shift, and Zha'haabron hissed, his eyes closing as his body arced off the bed, quivering helplessly as he came. The Saiyan pulled himself to his knees, big hands wrapped over his lover's hips as he began to thrust.
*I feel just fine...*
Zha'haabron gripped his bondmate's wrists, head flung back as he gasped and squirmed under the exquisite stimulation. Ye gods! If this is what a little tinkering in his beloved's mind could accomplish... he frowned to himself, quashing the unworthy thought.
A good few minutes later, lying tumbled and panting together, the bondmates smiled at each other.
*I don't know what you did, but thank you.*
**I'm happy it was successful**
Radittsu touched a fingertip to Zha'haabron's brow, frowning very slightly. *But your head hurts.*
The king shrugged. **The technique is a little difficult, and I've never tried it before. It required a lot of concentration**
Radittsu held him tenderly, then kissed his mouth, tongue gently questing along his upper lip. Zha'haabron touched it softly with his own, sighing his contentment as his bondmate kissed and licked down the length of his throat. Then, very reluctantly, the zn'hre pulled back slightly.
**I would rather spend all day here - but I have duties to perform. It would make me happy if you were to rest**
Radittsu hugged him, and nodded. *For today, at any rate. A bit more sleep wouldn't go amiss. And I'm hungry!* He sounded surprised, and Zha'haabron chuckled at his expression.
**Good! I'll have Zh'leet check you over, then I suggest you spend today recuperating. Sleep and eat. I won't be far away**
Radittsu gently pushed at him. *I've kept you far too long. You'd better go.*
Zha'haabron hugged him, then rose and prepared for another day as king. In a much happier frame of mind than of late.
"Well, it's good to see you back with us!" Zh'leet was beaming as she bustled in with a large bowl of hot, thick, meaty broth. Radittsu stared at it in dismay.
"What's this?"
"All you're going to get for now..."
"But... That's hardly fitting food for a Saiyan warrior!"
She nodded. "True. But you've eaten nothing solid for - what? nine days? And since your bowel has only just healed and is likely to be a little on the tender side, I think soft and easily digestible food is a good idea for the next couple of days."
The Saiyan scowled, but privately admitted the sense of the argument. And the soup was surprisingly tasty. He'd survive.
Three days later he was wolfing down solid food - at a rate that alarmed Zh'leet - and beginning to chafe from inactivity.
"I have to get some exercise."
Zh'leet, still unused to the Saiyan ability to bounce back from severe injury, attempted to argue.
"Ssii'iir, it's far too soon! You need at least three more days rest..."
Radittsu had leaned down and cupped her face in his big hands, ebony eyes gleaming.
"I've had more than enough rest. I need some exercise, a change of scenery, and some fresh air. Not necessarily in that order and on the understanding that any air outside the enclave is not what a Saiyan would consider 'fresh'."
She scowled. "But..."
He sighed. "Look, ask Zha'haabron if you don't believe me. But I'll tell you now, he'll agree with me."
She glared at him. "Oh, very well. But you aren't to go far from the enclave. And you must take a communicator with you in case you have any problems."
He smiled, relieved that it had been so easy. "Agreed. Now..." eyes twinkling "... would you care to help me apply the sunscreen?"
Of course, it wasn't quite as simple as that, and there were still occasions when Radittsu woke on the knife-edge of screaming, shaking and sweating, the memory of Dhr'ovaanon's weight on him and in him so vivid he felt like crawling into himself and never coming out. But Zha'haabron was always there, holding him, cradling him close as he moaned and wept and shuddered in the strong blue arms. And gradually the whole nightmare experience faded. Never to be forgotten, of course, but now overlaid by happier and more important events...
Twenty days after his return to the enclave, he was soaring out across the desert on an exercise flight when something caught his eye. Something green, startling in this expanse of empty ochre desert. He frowned to himself and veered and dived to investigate.
It was a body, naked, lying on its side, half-covered by gritty sand. An emaciated body, pale green skin stretched tight over long skinny arms and legs, knife-sharp hipbones. Looking closer, and when the long, lank green hair was swept aside by the rising breeze, he could see the crusted welts over the too-prominent ribs and spine, a lattice of criss-crossing whipmarks. Scowling, he knelt and brushed the hair back from the face. And froze. It was Zha'haabron's face - a Zha'haabron who'd been tortured and starved and thrown into the desert to die.
It took him several seconds to recover his breath. Of course it wasn't his bondmate - he was safe at his enclave. And his skin was blue, not this soft pale green. But the resemblance was frightening. Radittsu laid a hand against the zn'hre's neck, expecting to feel nothing, but there was, against all the odds, a faint, uneven pulse...
He gathered the limp form into his arms and took off, racing for the enclave.
*Beloved? Can you have a biotech team standing by?*
**You are hurt?** It was tinged with alarm.
*Not me. But I've found a zn'hre, lost in the desert. He's dehydrated and has been beaten - he needs attention urgently.*
**They will be waiting for you**
*And could you be there too? There's something I want you to see...*
© 2001 July 30th Joules Taylor
