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Marcus panted heavily while his hand wiped the blood from his chin, before coming to rest on his broken rip, but his eyes never left the silver blade of the dagger in front of him. He could see the slight shaking of Esca's hand, but his eyes were steady and burning with anger and abhorrence. He was hesitating, Esca is no killer and Marcus has been nothing but respectful towards him, but Marcus was still, undeniably, a slaver. A small hysterical laughter escaped him at the irony of his situation, despite the pain it caused in his chest. He had survived months of undercover work under the eye of the prince himself and just before he was finally done, he gets killed by a slave he rescued. Somehow that suited his life to a T.
He hadn't intended to rescue Esca, not really. Working his way up the ladder it was necessary to show his face at the slave fights where many of their male captives ended up. No matter how much he hated it, he couldn't skip all of them if he wanted to get the job done, especially not this one since he got invited to the VIP lounge where the prince, the leader of this slave ring, would be sitting too. The evening had been going perfectly so far. He had placed his bets, casually got a few crucial pieces of information out of excited spectators and even got to speak with the prince shortly and all that without anyone noticing how much his stomach recoiled the whole time. That was until Esca had entered the ring. They had locked eyes briefly -or rather Marcus did, Esca couldn't have seen him through the mirrored windows of the VIP lounge that protected the higher ups identities from the regular guests and added that extra privacy and quietness in contrast to the rowdiness of the bottom pit. Anyway, he had for a brief moment been able to look that wiry build slave in the eye and for that fraction of a second they had been alone before the fight resumed, but Marcus’ inner franticness stayed. He had asked too many questions, cared too much and accidentally led the prince to believe he wanted the man as a pretty thing for his bed. He had laughed and clapped Marcus approvingly on the shoulder, joking he had already been concerned about his workaholic tendencies. And then he proceeded to gift Esca to him. A bonus as part of his promotion he had said, reassuring him that the boy was a pretty face and a good fighter but more trouble than he was worth for him anyway, but he would be perfect for Marcus’ desires and needs. It had taken every ounce of training and self control in Marcus to keep up the charade and thank the prince adequately. Having someone living with him complicated his work a lot, but he couldn't decline such a generous gift and he definitely couldn't abandon the man here.
To his surprise, people got a lot more open towards him once word of his newest possession got around, accelerating his progress by at least two months. Nevertheless, he tried to find a way to get Esca to safety without the prince hunting the both of them. The prince had ears and eyes everywhere and would definitely be mad when Marcus got his gift stolen or murdered or lost. And of course he also had to find a way to tell his handler Drusillus that he now owned a slave. Good thing they never met up in person to pass on information.
Well, he didn't have to worry about either of those things anymore. His promotion had unfortunately come with the need to move places temporarily, way too long to leave Esca in his flat alone. So he had gritted his teeth, put Esca back in the shackles and brought him along. Naturally an organisation like this one lived on secrecy and didn't just text him his new address where he could bring Esca without anyone meeting him -and could let the flat be debugged and let the police set up a dead letter drop for their correspondence, but Marcus had been too worried about Esca to worry about that on top of it. Rightfully so, he learned only about 90 minutes after arriving at the meeting point a five hour drive north from Marcus’ previous operation area from where they would do the “office work” as they called it. His new coworkers were a bunch of average looking men in their early thirties that might as well work in finance and come home to a white picket fence home in the evening, a stark contrast to the bulky, tattooed giants responsible for the abductions. In a way they did work in finance, they organised all the shipments and housings and fighting locations. They probably never had any contact with the victims, making it easy to emotionally distance themselves so far from the cruel fates that they could talk about them like a shipment of tomato cans. Though they had to have made their hands dirty at one point before they worked their way up here just like Marcus had.
Anyhow they had all ended up here together now and his colleagues loved goggling Esca. He played into the role of the possessive owner to keep them from touching him or making inappropriate comments, but innerly he was counting down the seconds before he's given the keys to his accommodation and could f*ck off. Unfortunately his colleagues’ lack of experience in handling captives (and probably the fact he hadn't tightened Esca's shackles completely so it'd be the least painful as possible, if he was being honest) fell on their feet before that count was at zero. Marcus had been distracted when the youngest of the trio had taunted Esca and then turned his back at him without stepping away. The slave suddenly sprang into life, knocking him out before he even realized he was under attack. While the other two had a moment of preparation, they stood no chance against a trained fighter like Esca. Marcus had tried to get the situation under control, but all that got him was a broken rip and a blade to the throat.
There could be worse ways to die, he supposes. Drusillus should have enough evidence to prosecute the prince and all the other higher ups so their slave ring would get shattered once and for all. It filled Marcus with grim pride that it would be a slave who kills him and not the prince having seen through his lies and he will dedicate every eternal day in hell or earth to haunt the prince and his men, making them suffer through the same horrors they did so many others.
Having long made peace with an early death Marcus closed his eyes and rested his head on the floor. He wondered briefly whether Esca was expecting him to beg for his life, whether it confused him or made him even angrier that he didn't. But before he could ponder the matter deeper, the explosion of a stun grenade cut all thoughts short, quickly followed by the sound of breaking door hinges barely audible over the ringing in his ears.
Having had his eyes closed at the time of explosion, Marcus could see now the eight members of the Specialist Firearms Command raiding the place with an efficiency that never failed to amaze him. This time however it quickly turned to cold dread, when he saw them spotting Esca who stood doubled over in pain in the middle of the room covering his burning eyes with one hand while his right one still pointed the dagger vaguely in Marcus’ direction. A thousand gruel images raced through his mind and he would forever deny the high pitched panic in his voice when he screamed “He's a victim! He's a victim!”
The SFO studied Marcus for a moment before slowly lowering his gun, seemingly having been told to be on the lookout for Marcus while one of his colleagues gently disarmed Esca and treated his eyes.
All the energy leaving his body and mind he slowly lowered his torso back to the ground, covered his eyes with his arm and tried to breathe through his pain and overwhelming emotions. Only when he heard footsteps rushing towards him he glanced back up seeing a worried Drusillus kneeling beside him.
“Stay down,” he ordered gently, “a medic will be with you any minute.”
“Do you-” hissing in pain Marcus wetted his lips before trying again, “Do you have the prince? What about the slaves, are they-”
“Sh, everything's taken care of.” Drusillus hushed him with a calming hand on his shoulder. The sensation felt so foreign after all this time that Marcus didn't know whether he wanted to recoil from it or melt in it. “It's over. You've done it.”
“It's over.” he repeated quietly. He finished his job. No more pretending. No more slave fights. No more seeing sentients vanish knowing he couldn't yet save them. Nausea overtook his stomach at the thought of all the horrible things he had seen, he had done. Drusillus just petted Marcus back comfortingly when he rolled over and puked out his entire stomach.
When Esca came back to his senses he was sitting against the wall, the dagger in his hands replaced by a pair of gloved hands rubbing calming circles over the back of his hand while someone spoke incomprehensible but soothing words to him. He had half the mind to think he shouldn't let himself relax like this, but couldn't bring himself to care about anything.
Trying to blink the remaining white spots from his vision he took a look around him. The gloved hands belonged to a huge man in full tactical gear kneeling in front of him, the only skin visible under the black clothes was the bottom half of his face, revealing a middle aged indian man under the lowered balaclava. Over his shoulder Esca could see a few other identically dressed men arresting the slavers he had knocked out. Except for Marcus. The -much less armoured- man kneeling besides Marcus seemed to- comfort him? He couldn't make out the words being said, but he definitely had no intentions of arresting the puking man to his feet, but rather ran his hand soothing over Marcus’ back.
Before he could dwell further on the matter, a woman in only a bulletproof west blocked his view by kneeling in front of him. She flashed a small flashlight into his eyes, then his ears, before checking his arms for injuries and exchanging a few words with the SFO. Before Esca had any chance to decipher any of her words, she was already up again on her way to repeat her procedure with Marcus who had sat up against the wall in the meantime.
The SFO caught Esca's attention again by squeezing his hand shortly and gesticulated for him to close his eyes and mimic the slow breathing pattern he dictated by stroking his thump up and down over Esca's hand. Reluctantly he did as he was instructed and concentrated only on the sensation on his hands and the air filling his lungs like his mother had teached him many years ago when she had brought him along to her meditation courses.
“Well Aquila,” a foreign voice broke through his cottoned senses, “care to explain yourself?”
It was the man kneeling in front of Marcus saying it, but his voice sounded amused rather than scolding. Esca tried to follow his gaze to this Aquila, but the officer was raising his brows expectantly at Marcus who sighed long suffering and sat up straighter.
“May I introduce: this is Esca Mac Cunoval, a fight slave I more or less on accident got gifted.” the officers brows raised impossibly higher, but Esca didn't pay him much attention when Marcus locked eyes with him, before swallowing dryly and gesticulating at the man beside him, “and this is Detective Sergeants Drusillus,” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then finished “my boss.”
Marcus' boss was a policeman. And he knew Marcus was here. And addressed him by name. Which must mean Marcus was a policeman as well. Undercover.
Somehow that made so much sense and yet so little. He wouldn't have claimed to know Marcus well -wouldn't have wanted to know if he was honest. He was a disgusting slaver, no amount of tragic backstory and great personality could change that, all he wanted to know is how to get Marcus to hurt him the least as possible, any knowledge about him beyond that would just dampen the hate he had for him and by god did he want to hate that man!
Overwhelmed with this chance at freedom he had long since given up on and Marcus’ -could it be called a betrayal if someone turned out to be a good guy?- he didn't notice much going on around him. He isn't entirely sure how he ended up in this hospital bed or how long it took him to come back to his senses in those itchy white hospital gowns. Medical shock, the nurse had called it when she exchanged the IV bag, nothing to be concerned about.
Many people visited him the next day, none of them Marcus. He had done his best to cooperate with each of them, but he didn't want to relive this horror again and again. Not with the NCA officer, not with the SFO, not even with the psychologist, though he had to admit that this conversation had made him feel a little bit more steady. But he just wanted to sleep and talk to Marcus. Somehow the man had managed to form a bond with Esca and now that he knew he wasn't a slaver, he just wanted him to sort this mess in his mind. He had asked each of his visitors about him, but no one knew anything. Or maybe they knew, but didn't know who Esca meant as 'Marcus’ most definitely wasn't his real name he realized after the last of them had left him to rest.
It wasn't until Drusillus knocked on his door carefully on his second day in relative freedom that he knew he would finally get some answers. The detective had barely sat down on the plastic stool when Esca asked, “Where is Marcus? How is he?”
Drusillus stared at him in surprise for a moment before sighing deeply. “Not too good, to be honest. I mean physically he's doing fine, but his mind, it's- When you go undercover you have to become that person or you'll die. And you have to stand by watching gruesome horrors and do things you never believed yourself capable of… It's hard to come back from that. There are two identities inside you and you know which is the fake one, but you're no longer the man who went undercover all this time ago. You have seen and done too much for that, making the fake seem like the real you and you begin to question, whether deep down you are that horrible person you pretended to be.”
Drusillus got that faraway look like it was no longer Marcus he was talking about, but Esca couldn't decipher whether it was his own experience he was thinking about before his eyes focused back on Esca with a reassuring smile “But you don't have to worry about him, Mister Mac Cunnoval. It's a perfectly normal part of recovery and we have very experienced personnel who will get him back on his feet in no time.”
Esca nodded slowly and Drusillus thankfully gave him the time to sort his thoughts. He was feeling guilty that it made him feel better hearing Marcus was struggling. It wasn't that he wished anything bad upon Marcus, even if that would have been true two days ago, it was that it proved he was truly a good guy. Surely none of the actual slavers felt bad about their actions, but Marcus did. He had felt traumatised, not entertained watching those crimes.
He thought briefly about asking for Marcus’ real name, but decided he wasn't ready for that yet. Besides, he wanted Marcus to reintroduce himself and answer all of his questions.
“Can I see him?”
If Drusillus was surprised by his request he hid it well. “May I ask you a few questions first? I promise I'll try to be quick, I know you had to answer hundreds of questions by now."
To the man's credit, he was quick and asked almost only about how exactly he had come into Marcus’ possession and how he had treated him, details no one had asked before. He got the feeling that actually owning a slave was rather in the dark grey spectrum of what’s acceptable for an undercover agent and Drusillus was not amused about Marcus’ choice of action. But his displeasure with his agent also reassured Esca in his feeling that these people were really here to help, to make things better.
When he was finally done with his questions and seemed halfway reassured that his agent hadn't had much of a choice and done the best out of a bad situation, he changed Esca's IV bag onto the rolling stand and helped him to get out of the bed without harming any of his injuries or IV.
Marcus’ room was at the very end of the hallway where it was quieter and the sun wouldn't directly shine into his room, making him wonder whether Drusillus had deliberately let Marcus be put here knowing he'd prefer it this way. He hadn't asked how close the two of them had been, but it was obvious he deeply cared about his agent.
“He hasn't talked much with anyone that wasn't a direct question about the organisation,” he warned him when they stood in front of the bland door, “he mostly just stares into the distance out of the window.”
He smiled at him encouraging and then left him alone in the hallway. Forcing his nerves down by taking a deep breath, Esca knocked on the door. When no one answered him, he carefully pushed it open, revealing the view on Marcus. As Drusillus had warned him, he didn't react to any of it but just kept staring outside into the late afternoon. Swallowing drily, he sat slowly on the chair to Marcus’ right and tried carefully “Marcus?”
Despite it coming out as barely more than a rasp, it caused Marcus to turn his gaze around to him. He could see the exact moment of recognition when their eyes met and Marcus’ widened, making him immediately look more awake. He seemed to reach out for Esca's arm, but then thought better of it and dropped it halfway again, using it to sit up straighter instead. Esca couldn't help the relieved grin splitting his face at seeing Marcus well and responsive and happy to see him.
“Esca! Are you alri- of course you're not! I meant, do you- are you-”
“I am alright.” interrupted Esca his stammering. Seeing his steady master like this opened something in his chest he rather not inspect closer. “My new wounds are mostly superficial and the older ones are already healing well thanks to your nursing skills. I think they're mostly keeping me here because they don't know where else to put me.”
“I'm glad. You've looked pretty out of it when they escorted you outside.”
“Yeah, that grenade knocked me out quite a bit. I take it I have to thank you for that rescue too?” he was certain of it, but he still felt nervous whether it was really true, “The police took down the ring with the information you provided them?”
To his surprise Marcus looked almost ashamed when he broke their eye contact to stare at his fingers fiddling with the hem of his blanket. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I really am, but I couldn't. If there would have been even the tiniest doubt in who I am… And I wasn't sure you would believe me and-”
“Sh, it's okay, it's okay. I understand, I'm not mad at you! I was relieved when I learned the truth, really. The truth is-” Esca selfconsciously rubbed his wrist, but Marcus needed to hear this, “I knew you were not like the other slavers the moment we first met. And I- I felt like I'm owing you my life which didn't make sense because you had just bought me from hell into tartaros, but you didn't! You didn't hurt me or rape me or humiliate me, hell I did barely more than half of the housechores and most of the ones I did, I did out of boredom!
My point is, I started liking you, like we're building an actual friendship, but that couldn't be so I fought it so hard! I concluded you wanted to get me voluntarily in your bed, to conquer me, because you were not my friend but horrible, cruel and inhuman!”
Marcus tensed up, his eyes pressed closed as if it could shield him from the words he probably considered to be true when Drusillus was to be believed. Reaching out to gently but firmly grip Marcus’ arm, Esca quickly moved on, before Marcus could spiral to deep. “But you were not -are not- any of those things. My feelings were true, you are good and empathetic and my friend! Because that's what we are, no? Friends? I mean, sure, we have jumped half a dozen steps along the way, but I know you care about me too, right? You feel this too!”
Esca was so wrapped up in his confession, he didn't notice the tears forming in the others eyes, until he freed his arm to squeeze Esca's hand in his and answered shakingly “I do, Esca, I do. When we first locked eyes at that fighting ring, I felt it. There was something in your eyes that struck something deep within me and I just couldn't let you die. I couldn't watch you disappear like so many others. It was stupid and reckless but I just couldn't.”
Esca could feel the tears forming in his eyes now too, especially when he saw Marcus’ face closing off again and he knew he was thinking something self-loathing again.
“But you don't know me, Esca! You don't know what I've done or who I am, everything about me is a lie, a fraud!”
“It is not! I know your inner, the really important things, a lot better than you wanted me to, everything else we can find out as we go. Why don't you start by reintroducing yourself?”
To Esca's surprise Marcus pulled a grimace like he had just bitten into a lemon at the request but relented immediately: “My parents named me Flavius Aquila, but I hate that first name for obvious reasons so everyone just calls me ‘Aquila’ or sometimes just ‘Quila’.”
“Yes, I can see that name causing some sideeyes growing up.” Esca tried to lighten the mood but Marc- Aquila- whatever- just got that faraway gaze again.
“It feels so wrong.” he whispered so quietly that Esca wasn't sure whether he was talking to himself or Esca, “It sounds so familiar, but like it isn't me. Not anymore. I hear his name and see his face and I recognize all of it but like it isn't me! I am not Aquila, but I don't know who I am instead and I am scared that it is Marcus! The Marcus, who enslaved people, watched them fight for entertainment and locked one of them into his home.”
Own experience or not, Drusillus had hit Marcus’ inner struggles on the head.
“Look, Ma- I mean-”
“You can keep calling me Marcus, Esca.”
Innerly he was relieved, but outwardly Esca just nodded, “Look, Marcus, I don't want to pretend I know or understand what you went through, but I have never met that Marcus. I, for my part, like Marcus quite much and am in no hurry to meet that other guy. You have risked a lot for me and I know that everything you did was to save me and the other slaves! Besides, I'm pretty sure Drusillus already gave you enough of a hard time for the that ownership thing.”
Marcus snorted surprised at that, “Yeah, let's say it's a good thing I'm looking this miserable right now and he doesn’t punch people already on the ground.”
Getting serious again, Esca finished his point, “Like I said, we will figure everything else out as we go. Including who we are to ourselves and to each other, okay?”
“Okay.” Marcus whispered again but this time he was looking at Esca and for the first time had a real smile on his face. It wasn't big, but it was hopeful and sincere, when he pulled Esca into a tight hug and then on top of him onto the bed when Esca lost balance. Laughing at Marcus’ ridiculousness Esca slid down from Marcus next to him on the bed, one arm and leg still spread across the other's torso. It was the calmest he could recall ever having felt with his head upon Marcus shoulder, who was stroking his fingertips featherlight up and down his arm. He knew there was still more going on inside Marcus’ mind, but Drusillus' warning resonating in his ears kept him from pressing. He was talking to him and allowed himself this closeness, it was already a big improvement that Esca couldn't risk. Marcus had guarded his mind with his life these past months, pushing the matter would only cause him to pull away back into his shell. So he would wait. Maybe it would take a couple of days, but he would entrust in him, of that Esca was certain. Until then, he would stay right here soaking in his warmth and secureness and peace.
He lost track of time napping cuddled up against Marcus, but the sun had set quite a bit when Marcus prevented him from falling asleep by interrupting the comfortable silence. “I keep seeing them,”
Esca had to strain his ears to understand Marcus’ whisper and restrain his mouth from asking who he meant in order to give him the room to confess in his own time.
“All those nameless faces I saw vanish into the system, I keep seeing them and they ask me, why I didn't save them too and I don't know what to answer them!”
There it was.
“You couldn't have. Saving me was already only possible due to lucky circumstances and nearly got you killed anyway.” He did feel bad about that one and definitely needed to apologize for that even if Marcus would most definitely not accept it, “If you would have blown your cover, you would be dead and all us slaves would still be slaves including those they'll never catch now because you destroyed the ring. Chances are, they are free now thanks to you and even if they're not, it is not your fault! You hear me?” sitting up Esca grabbed Marcus’ head between his hands and locked eyes with him “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. The prince and his slavers are the only ones to blame for this, they caught us and hurt us and killed us, not you, Marcus!”
Marcus nodded like he wasn't completely convinced, but he didn't deny it either. He wanted to believe Esca, but that would take a while and definitely professional help. Smiling down at him, Esca leaned forward to erase the sorrows from his forehead with a featherlight kiss to his hairline, before cuddling back into the side of a dumpfounded Marcus. They'd be fine, it will take a while, but they'll get out of this together.