Sixteen hours spent riding between House Mal and the Kenzine monastery had given Victus plenty of time to think.  He'd started his journey contemplating the possibility that Lucas MacKenzie would have been better off had he been left in the pits, but it hadn't taken long for him to reject the notion as romantic idiocy.  After months spent together Victus was well aware of Lucas's strengths and weaknesses, and he had to admit that Lucas had been only one, or at most, two matches away from meeting his maker.  Although his student was a skilled fighter who had the heart of a lion, those attributes could never have saved him, for he was also moral, and that would have been his undoing.  Victus didn't think the fighter could have mustered the long-term, conniving bastardry necessary to become a champion; and the only alternative to mastering the ring was to become its victim.

The nature of his contemplations had changed dramatically after speaking with his father.  The fact that Master Dagen had shown such a lack of concern over Lucas's gender had Victus momentarily stymied. There was no possibility that Dagen was unaware that his son was seeking the intimate company of another man, yet he had shown no negative emotion.  But then again, his father was not varius. The thought brought with it a guilty flashback to Targa Entrades, who had been nothing if not varius.  His rational mind caught up to his feelings and suppressed the negative emotion.  He felt fortunate to have had two wonderful fathers, and he steadfastly refused to deny either of them their proper place in his life.   A varius father might have something to say about their child not doing their part to further their line, but since Dagen was sapiens he couldn't see the conflict.

“Fortunate for me,' Victus thought, as the landscape rushed past. “but what about Lucas?"   Varius sexuality was a picture best painted in wild, free-form strokes.  If varii chose to do so, they could engage in any number of sexual encounters, be they heterosexual, homosexual or any possible combination thereof, and nobody would think anything negative.  But that freedom carried with it a corresponding expectation that they would eventually settle down with a compatible partner and get about the business of increasing the number of varii in the world.  

Being both varius and Kenzine made Victus a community of one, and on this and many other issues he felt free to choose his own path.  Lucas, however, might be a different story.  

Given the amount of time it had taken Victus to sort out his feelings and compartmentalize them, it seemed unfair that they should all come undone so soon upon his return to the estate. He had barely entered the main house before Leland latched onto him.

“The negin's office. Now." He knew better than to touch the Kenzine, but his body language rushed Victus along. “Now. About an hour ago, your little attack dog lost his mind and laid in to Percy."

Victus remained carefully silent.  Without knowing all of the facts, whatever he said was likely to be foolish.

***

Hard...to...breathe...  Lucas tried to push the oppressive weight off his chest but was too weak to make much progress. His feeble pokes served to alert whatever was weighing him down that he was awake, and he felt the weight shift.

Victus lifted himself off his student. “Body contact is an important part of the process," he said, wearily.

"Yeah, right." Lucas's voice rasped from his throat. "That's what they all say."

"Just...don't." Victus had sympathy for anyone who was injured, but there wasn't anything humorous about Lucas's condition. "Your body had lost its ability to regulate your systems, and you were dying."

He sounded every bit as awful as Lucas, and looked even worse than he sounded. "What the fuck happened to you?" he croaked.

"You happened to me," Victus said, tiredly. "Healing takes a great amount of energy, and you weren't in the best shape."

"Don't look at me for sympathy," Lucas snorted. "I didn't ask for your help." Even given their rivalry that sounded especially ungenerous, and Lucas felt his ears falling in silent apology.

Victus felt challenged to keep his tone civil. "It would have been difficult for you to ask for anything, considering how close to death you were."

"I've fought bigger men," Lucas challenged, some of his bravado returning. "I had it under control."

"He bruised your brain," Victus pointed out. "Which at least served to prove that you have one." Rolling off their shared bed, the Kenzine hobbled to the lavatory. "I was beginning to wonder."

"That explains why I was so dizzy." Lucas gently scrubbed short, stubby fingers through his hair, then used them to feel along the line of his jaw to see if anything was broken. Aside from a few teeth that might be a little more wiggly than before, everything seemed to be in order. "I guess I should say thanks."

"None are necessary," Victus assured him, from the bathroom. "We do what is necessary to ensure the safety of our..."  He trailed off into an uncomfortable silence, leaving Lucas to wonder what he was to the man.

Before his curiosity could get the better of him by asking the question, Victus continued. "Our duty cycle starts in thirty minutes." He peeked his head around the doorway, giving Lucas a view of his haggard face. Bags under a canine's eyes had to be really bad before they were visible through fur, but Victus had them. "You are not excused."

"I feel like shit." Lucas announced, but he rolled off the bed anyway. He thought his injuries actually might not be all that bad until he tried to stand up, at which point his stomach churned with a vehemence that sent him staggering to the toilet. His heaving didn't produce anything but bilious foam, which made the painful retching all the more insulting.

"I hope you feel better." Victus slid the scrubber back in his mouth and continued his morning ritual. "Iss gonn be uh lon day." With his free hand, he passed a hand towel down to Lucas.

"No rest for the weary, huh?" Lucas said, as he wiped ugly strings of slobber from his mouth.

Victus turned off the scrubber and spat in the sink. "The phrase is, 'no rest for the wicked,' but I suppose it still applies, doesn't it?"

Lucas pushed himself to his feet and stripped away his sweat-dampened garments. Through the mirror he could see Victus conspicuously not watching him, and suddenly, for reasons he could never have explained, his nudity felt...not shameful, exactly, but  conspicuous. He countered the feeling by throwing his shoulders back and holding his head high, daring the other man to look. “Why do you always got to be such a prude, Vic? You make me feel like some sort of perv."

"No use being coy about this shit now," he said, twisting the shower's knobs to turn the water on full blast. "You've already seen everything there is to see, so loosen up." Ducking under the spray, he lathered up his fur as quickly as he could without jostling his recovering brain.

“I apologize if I make you feel uncomfortable," Victus said, over the hiss of the water's spray, and to Lucas's over-sensitive ears he really did sound apologetic. “The abbey where I grew up was crowded, and the only privacy you had is that which others gave you.  I thought you might appreciate having some in the bathroom."

The hidden irony made Lucas chuckle.  “Soldiers handle the privacy issue a bit differently.  We don't pretend it exists, we just act like it's something nobody would ever want in the first place." The hot water felt amazingly restorative as it ran through his fur, but he kept a careful eye on the time in an effort to leave Victus enough time for a shower of his own.

Lucas rinsed his headfur clear of the soap, pushed the water out of his face, and opened his eyes to see Victus standing outside the transparent shower stall, hands on hips, studiously examining his naked body.  Eyes wide, Lucas's hands flew down to cover his crotch in a an overly enthusiastic display of modesty that brought a smile to Victus' face.

“Yeah!" Lucas said, relaxing and nodding his head in approval.  “Lighten up!" He shouldered past Victus as he stepped out of the booth, grabbed a towel and stared forlornly at the blow dryer. He didn't have time to both blow himself dry and eat, and he'd rather be damp than hungry so he toweled off as quickly as he could and picked up his dental scrubber.

His ears snapped back in surprise when behind him, he heard the drying fan start up instead of the shower spray.  The aching confusion in his skull multiplied when he felt Victus using the hand wand to blow the water out of the coarse fur on his back. Methodically, the Kenzine used the blower to blast all but the last traces of water down his lower back and away from his legs, being explicitly careful to avoid his rump. Feeling more than a little confused, Lucas watched as Victus used the high speed stream of air to dry the backs of his thighs and calves.

Victus noticed Lucas watching him. "Your attention will not be on your duties if you are uncomfortable," he explained, the formality of his voice in distinct counterpoint to the fluidity of his motions.

Lucas's eyes narrowed slightly at the perceived slight.  “You've never had to worry about me doing my duty before, so don't start now."  He realized that his annoyance was unjustified, and again he felt awkward.  Passing the instrument under the running water, Lucas rinsed the foam from his dental scrubber and tried to make amends. "What about you?  Now you don't have time for a shower."

"I can do without." Victus straightened and put the wand back in its holder. "There," he said, surveying his handiwork. "Good enough.  See? It is better for us both when we work together."

To Lucas's ears that sounded like a koan, much like any of the dozens of others which Victus inflicted upon him to teach his arcane brand of morality. But today, Lucas had to wonder if there was more behind the words.  Victus was in an even more contemplative mood than usual, and the silence gave him time to consider his world.   He appreciated the fact that he was both dry and on his way to breakfast, but the fact that Victus was responsible for that condition left him more than a little unsettled.  

As the product of a mixed marriage, Lucas' childhood had been filled with taunts and goads from the other varii.  One of the lessons he'd learned early on was that nothing was given for which something equivalent was not expected, and it was difficult for him to imagine that Victus might have performed a service for him without also wondering what the man might want in return. Quid pro quo had always been the cornerstone of his relationships and he saw no reason why that would change now.

But what might the lupine want from him?   Going to work without a shower wasn't a financially costly thing, so Victus would probably not want something tangible.  Besides, Lucas thought to himself, it's not as if I have anything to give.  The service had been personal, and many people who'd done something that intimate in the past had come back wanting some sort of sexual favor. Victus hadn't thrown him any sign of interest in that arena, so that was probably out; not that Lucas would have minded.  The other man wasn't horrible looking by any stretch of the imagination, and regardless of gender it would be nice to have a convenient play buddy from time to time.

Thinking back to what the Kenzine had told him about his own upbringing, a new possibility crossed Lucas's mind.  Perversely, the people who had treated him the best had been the ones who were, according to his contemporaries, supposed to be his oppressors.  His mixed heritage didn't seem to matter to most sapiens, and despite the varius predilection for telling the truth, he had almost always felt more comfortable around pinkies than varii.  Being raised by sapiens,  perhaps Victus wanted...nothing?  

It was an odd concept, one which was tempting to romanticize into something far more than it really was.  He'd liked to have believed that Victus might be a real friend to him, but that felt like a dangerous path to tread.  Even if it were so, the Kenzine would be leaving in a few months anyway, so what was the point?  Lucas squared his shoulders and resolved to keep his walls up; but even so, he might leave a single door less...well-protected.  It might be nice to feel like he had a friend for once, even if it were only for a little while.  

Victus led them into Mal's office, and all other thoughts were driven from his mind by proximity to the negin. The threat of agony brought on by the training collar's casual use always churned his stomach, although he tried his best to not show any weakness where the negin could see.

Mal glared at Lucas over the rim of his mug. Lucas didn't know and didn't care what was in that mug, though he was relatively certain that it wasn't coffee. "You'll be glad to know that he'll recover."

Lucas knew whom Mal meant, but he couldn't resist tweaking the man's nipples. "Who, Victus?"

"Percy, you moron," Mal grumbled. "He cost me twice what you're worth, so if anyone was going to die it should have been you."

"I apologize for my thoughtlessness," Lucas said, successfully keeping all but the tiniest trace of sarcasm out of his voice. "But he was trying to kill me," he emphasized. The look he gave the negin was pure innocence. "I don't know what got into him."

"You know perfectly well what got into him," Mal said, his piggy little eyes narrowing to angry slits.  “You don't think everything that goes on in that room isn't recorded?  I saw everything you said to him."

Mal pursed his lips in annoyance. “Taunting a trained killer like that was astoundingly stupid, but he really does need to toughen up before the big match. Your little..." He waved a stick of toasted bread about like a baton as he searched for the word, "misadventure… exposed a weakness that needs attention."

Mal examined Lucas as if only now seeing him. "You don't look too bad, considering." He moved his gaze to Victus. "You look like shit."

“So I've been told," the Kenzine acknowledged. "That is what happens when I perform two healings in a single night."

"Don't blame me," the negin said, polishing off the last of his breakfast. "It was your choice.  Don't know why you made it, though."

Victus remained silent, his stoic, parade-rest stance doing his talking for him.

Lucas knew it was in his best interests to duplicate Victus' silence.  The less attention he drew to himself, the greater the chance he'd escape the incident without feeling the slave collar's sting.   

***

Lucas chewed over the question for hours, at some times achingly curious to hear the answer, at others wondering if he wanted to bring it up at all.  Acknowledging a debt, especially a life debt, would put him in an uncomfortable position where his mentor was concerned. Victus had put himself at risk to save him, and that might be an expensive debt to repay.  

The negin kept the two men busy until mid-afternoon, when a trip into the city provided them with the first quiet time they'd had all day.  They delivered the negin to his secure meeting spot and stood guard outside the door, taking very seriously their job of looking imposing to anyone passing by. Now that they had some measure of privacy, the weight of Lucas' curiosity became unbearable. “In the negin's office you said something about 'two healings.'  You took care of Percy first?"  

The Kenzine's face tightened.  The change was subtle, one which Lucas could have walked past and never noticed had he not been paying attention.  He looked as if he might choose to remain silent, so Lucas gave another prod. “This might be necessary to ensure the negin's safety, so I have to know."  That felt silly even as he said it, but Lucas tried to look earnest.

That almost made Victus smile.  Almost. “That is a particularly weak card to play, since we both know that you don't particularly care whether the negin lives or dies."

Lucas shrugged. “Okay, you've got me there.  But I would like to know."

Victus examined the upper corners of the room they were in and to Lucas it looked very much like an eye roll. He obviously did not want to talk about this. “Bixby was waiting for me in the garage when I returned. He told me you'd been in a fight and nearly killed Percy, and Mal forbade me to help you in any way until Percy was out of danger."

“Percy wasn't really all that badly injured," he continued, “His ribs were bruised and he had a slight concussion.  That much, I expected. He also had a crushed larynx, which is not the sort of injury I would have expected to arise from a sparring match." His eyes probed his student, seeking truth more than a palliative excuse. “Why did you hit him in the throat?"

Lucas dropped his head for a moment under the intense scrutiny, his ears flattening more than he'd like.  He forced himself to look up, to match Victus' inquisitive stare with one of his own.  He reminded himself that Victus did not know the facts, and that from an outside perspective, his actions might appear...unstable, at best. “You haven't seen the recordings?"

Victus shook his head. “I have not had time.  What I know of the incident comes from Bixby and Mal."

'Oh," Lucas mouthed silently. This put Victus' role in a different light. Depending on what the Kenzine had already overheard from everyone else in the house, he could be forgiven for thinking of Lucas as a man prone to irresponsible rage, or worse in Lucas' mind, as a dumb hooligan.

Yet, the man didn't seem to be making those assumptions.  He seemed to be waiting patiently for Lucas' reply before coming to any conclusions about his behavior.  “I admit to losing control of the situation," he pushed out past unwilling lips. “I was okay with Percy threatening me.  That's par for the course in these things.  But after he told me some of the things he's done...bragged about them…" this did not seem the time to go into detail about those things, so he left it vague, sighing with exasperation at his inability to convey his horror.

When next he spoke, he felt on more solid ground and his words were stronger. “When he said he was going to come after you, I just...  I'm sorry, Vic," he said, hoping that the Kenzine standing in front of him would understand. “I know you wouldn't want me to hurt him, but you're all the pack I have right now, and…" he fell silent, knowing that his explanation was devolving into excuse.

Victus nodded his head in understanding.  “Instinct can be difficult to control.  We will work on that."  It was over.  Without another word, he returned to parade rest outside the door at which they were stationed.

Lucas was stunned.  No lecture?  No long-winded speech about responsibility and duty?  Nothing about the importance of maintaining his control or never hurting a sapiens?  Quietly, he resumed his own stance, staring off into the distance.  His face was still, but his mind whirled.  Victus had issued none of the threats of expulsion or warnings about future punishment that Lucas expected.  But then again, he also hadn't thanked Lucas for defending him, or acted at all affected by the knowledge that Lucas considered him important enough to die for.  The calm silence, Lucas found, had very sharp edges to it, and he was the one holding the knives.