Chapter 14

(1 month before fic) Night had plunged the Serenian countryside into darkness, and a gentle flow of cool breeze drifted through the trees and crumbled remains of destroyed homes lifting bits of dust into the air. The sound of leaves rustling accompanied by swarms singing in their choirs created an eerie harmony which wafted through the shadows. Through the discomforting darkness, the yellow glow of two headlights pierced the gloom like sharp knives stabbing flesh. The roar of a persistant motor interrupted the concert of night, and the dirt road protested to being disrupted at this late hour by worn tires causing the black truck to jerk and bounce at every turn. Shawn Michaels sighed and shook his head. He had been almost certain that a town was close at hand, but they had been traveling on the road from Katol for hours without reaching a neighboring community. It was late, and the vision of the street in his eyes was beginning to blur. A strong hand fell on his arm, and Shawn turned to find dark eyes watching him...scrutinizing his face. “What?” he asked, disappointed by how rough his voice sounded. Not only was his throat still sore from the beating he had been given by Billy Gunn earlier that day, but the need to sleep was beginning to overtake him, and from the expression on Chyna’s face she knew it, too. “You almost nodded off,” she told him bluntly, and Shawn cursed himself. He hadn’t even noticed. “It doesn’t matter if we reach a city tonight. The truck has enough gas to cover more ground tomorrow. Stopping to sleep won’t kill us... The area seems abandoned.” Damn, she was a master at making the facts sound good. Either that or he was too tired to think of a suitable argument to her claims. “All right,” he murmured, pulling over to the side of the road and retrieving his silver key from the ignition. Chyna offered him a small smile, and Shawn had to smirk at the thought of what she would have done to him had he refused to stop. The last thing he needed was more black and blue spots on his body. He’d received enough of those that morning. Chyna was the first to climb out of the car, and she reached into the back of the pickup, pulling out black tarp which Shawn had found conveniently in the barn at the Gunn residence and hooking it over the back, not bothering to meet Billy’s inquiring stare as she answered his unasked question. “We’re nowhere near another town. This is as good a place as any to sleep. There’s no sound of the war.” Billy watched through clear blue eyes as she and Shawn secured the tarp in place until he could no longer see the outside world. Everything had been blocked out except the faint light of the moon shining through the opening in the tarp at the far end of the truck. It was through this silver glow that Billy was able to see Jesse James’ face as he yawned and curled into a ball in a corner. The past few days had been almost as emotionally straining as that day a month ago when his entire family had been murdered in cold blood by the bastards who called themselves soldiers of justice leaving him alive with only the mysterious traveler known as Chyna and his servant. A week ago everything had been fine. He had been doing exercises to strengthen the strained muscles in his back, and Jesse took painkillers as instructed by Chyna, fully optimistic that one day he would regain full use of his left leg which he had nearly lost after it was pierced by a bullet on that fateful day. Shot for his sake. It was because of Jesse that his back was in this fragile condition, but it was also because of Jesse that he was still alive. If he hadn’t pushed him out of the way the bullet which had gone through his leg would have most likely penetrated Billy’s abdomen, and his life would have been over. Then had arisen the realization that Jesse wasn’t his best friend anymore. Couldn’t be his best friend. Jesse James was a servant...a slave. His slave, and as master Billy couldn’t allow himself to go easy on him. But what was too far? What did it mean to be an owner? Chyna uttering the word ‘freedom’ had made his blood run cold, however. There was no way that was going to happen. Shawn Michaels. A guy who always smiled in such a way that caused homicidal impulses to flood Billy’s brain. He was sickeningly nonchalant, but he had saved their lives, and Billy now fumed at the fact that he owed Shawn the same debt which he owed Jesse. Both were responsible for him still being on this Earth. ‘Good-looking,’ Shawn had called Jesse. ‘Attractive.’ Billy shuddered. He’d even called him fuckin’ ‘hot.’ What the hell did he mean by that? Why did he look at Jesse in the way that he did, and why did Billy’s skin crawl whenever his servant was receptive to Shawn’s advances? He wasn’t really falling for Michaels’ sneaky grins and kind words, was he? Shawn was still a stranger...not to be trusted. Jesse didn’t have any right to let Shawn look at him like that. Shawn didn’t have the right. Why did he care anyway? What the hell was he thinking? That Shawn...that Shawn had a thing for Jesse? Was that what all this was about? Who cared? Shawn could touch Jesse if he wanted to...talk to him in that extra-sweet sugary voice which made Billy want to puke.... No, he couldn’t! Jesse was HIS servant. His. Shawn couldn’t touch his cheek while he slept...and Jesse wasn’t allowed to react. He wasn’t allowed to favor his caress like he had last night. Who the hell was going to stop him? Billy buried his face in his hands. God, he didn’t know. What was it that Shawn had asked him...didn’t he think Jesse looked good? No...yes...what the hell was he supposed to say? No, of course not. Jesse was a man and his best friend of many years. He didn’t think about him like that. Billy pondered this, puzzled. Jesse wasn’t ugly, he supposed. Of course he wasn’t! He was anything BUT ugly! Oh God...but what was he supposed to call him? Attractive like Shawn had? But Billy didn’t find him attractive...or did he? Lord in Heaven, he didn’t know what that question meant, and it had sounded like a damn simple one to answer when Shawn uttered it. Did he think Jesse looked good? Yes. ...or was that no? ...but it wasn’t no. It was yes. Why yes? What made him say yes? He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Shawn and Chyna join them in the back of the pickup. Chyna displayed her exhaustion openly, grabbing one of the blankets which had been lying in a corner and wrapping the tan cloth around herself. She was soon fast asleep. Finding Shawn’s curious eyes on him, Billy regarded him wordlessly. What was he thinking? He forced his head to incline. “Thank you...for taking us with you, I mean.” Shrugging, Shawn replied in his ever insouciant manner. “We might end up being killed anyway,” he pointed out, though from his smirk it was obvious that he knew Billy didn’t care. He’d been preparing himself for death ever since his family had been attacked by traveling troops. Hell, all of them had been preparing themselves since their first taste of death. Smiling slightly, Billy turned away from him, glancing at Jesse and noticing, with a sigh, that his head was growing heavy, dropping against his chest before rising just as quickly. “Jess...” The call caused half-lidded eyes to face him, and Billy extended one arm invitingly as he draped a blanket over his waist with the other. “Come over here.” This request was too tempting to resist, and Jesse crawled closer, collapsing wearily by his side. The warmth of Billy’s arms wrapping around him caused him to sigh contentedly as he was enveloped in the protection of last night once again. It was a guilty pleasure, Jesse's fuzzed mind told him strongly, but tonight that didn't matter. He'd deal with the consequences tomorrow. Watching Jesse shift and jerk until he had perfectly managed to curl around his body nearly hypnotized his owner, and Billy’s grin softened as Jesse leaned closer and nuzzled his chest like a cat. Playing absently with one of his addictive braids, Billy was barely aware of his servant’s sleep-muffled words. “Are you comfortable, Master?” Seeing his eyelids droop, Billy smirked and drew him closer. He stroked Jesse’s temple, fascinated by the way the lines of strain created by his will to remain awake faded into relaxed unconsciousness. His breathing finally evened out, and Billy smiled fondly, allowing is own eyes to drift closed. There would be plenty of time to sort out the events of the previous month, but tonight he was too tired to care. Too comfortable to care. Everything could wait until morning. Shaking his head slowly, the amused eyes of Shawn Michaels skimmed over the pair as a mischievous grin curled his lips upward. *** The camp of Rebellion squadron 2b was tense as green-clad officers scurried back and forth, screaming messages at each other. In the heart of the Rine Valley, the war had come to a standstill with the newly arrived Rebellion fighter pilots and the reports of the unknown Dominion troops who had been hiding a few miles away from the fighting and were approaching rapidly placing stress on both sides. Within the communications tent, Captain Shane McMahon’s cheeks were flushed with anger as he tried to reason with, as Lieutenant Colonel Viscera always called them, ‘a stupid old government representative.’ Colonel Ray Traylor leaned back in his wooden seat, entertained eyes skimming over Shane’s innocently flustered face before turning towards the brooding Viscera. It was no secret what had the large man’s mind so troubled. Rebellion squad 5a had been scheduled to arrive forty-five minutes ago, and when he had tried to contact Colonel Benoit the line had been dead. That either meant the Dominion had learned about the secret network and jammed it or something happened to 5a, and considering the fact that the Dominion’s resources were just as strained as there’s were at this point in the war option B seemed most probable. “What do you mean the resources just aren’t available for sending!?” Shane shouted angrily into the phone. “Listen to me...these are YOUR people we’re talking about. YOUR civilians. The people that are going to fuckin’ vote for you once this war is over, so don’t tell me that you don’t have them because I know that’s a bunch of bullshit!” Ray smirked, his eyes rolling towards Viscera. “How long has the musty bastard on the other line been givin’ Boy Wonder all those excuses?” he asked, only mildly interested in the answer. It was something to get his mind off of 5a, at least. Viscera shrugged his massive shoulders before returning his attention to Shane. “Over an hour, Sir,” he responded dully. “No progress. I wish the wrinkled idiot was here so I could bash his head in myself. Those old fools don’t seem so tough and stubborn in person. Over the phone they know we can’t hurt ‘em.” Ray had to snicker at his subordinate’s analysis. It was true, after all. “Look, I’m sick of listening to you ramble on and on about shit you don’t know anything about,” Shane growled into the phone, his voice growing dangerously low. “Let me talk to my father.” This turn of events caused Ray and Viscera to look up in shock, suddenly quite interested in the conversation. “He’ll give me the facts. He’ll explain all this shit to me.... Yeah, you heard me, bastard. Put Vince McMahon on the line! ...What do you mean he can’t fuckin’ talk to me right now!? This is his son!.... The hell he’s in a board meeting! Let me talk to Vince! Let me talk to--” Viscera blinked with surprise when his voice suddenly died, but the reason became apparent when Shane replaced the receiver on its hook with disbelief. His chocolate eyes had become dark with rage, and Ray stood from his chair when he kicked the wooden leg of the desk on which the phone sat furiously. “You motherfuckers!” he spat venomously, eyes squeezed shut against the burning hatred flowing through his veins. “You damn motherfuckers!” Ray smirked at the display and ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Ain’t it the truth?” he mumbled, and Viscera nodded his agreement. Surprise, surprise. The government had started a war and once again proved that they no longer wanted anything to do with the innocents who had passionately entered for their original cause. God, humanity, power, and family. All morals were distorted in the whirlwind of war. Previous Chapter... Main Page... Next Chapter...