Greys IV - Chains

Chapter 8 - Four

Yet again, my gut reaction was to refuse, and adamantly, vehemently, to scream no and end the discussion before he could worm in any reasons. But, yet again, I paused, trying to think of why he would want me to take his soul, to own him like that. I may have just been getting to know my brother, but from our very first hours together, even before the Vault, I knew he wasn't stupid. He was calculating, manipulative and devious, often ruthless and dangerous, insidious, sometimes even rash and impetuous, but never stupid. And he wouldn't ask anything unless it gave him an advantage, gave us an advantage now. But I still felt fear and confusion and anger turning over in me. My Shift strained against whatever held it back, and further, lurking deeper within me, I felt that blackness, that fire, trying to rise along with my nature.

I closed my eyes, finally recognizing the early signs, and focused on pulling in my breaths before pushing them out. In and out, in and out. Two slow counts in, two counts out.

One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.

Soon, I found my rhythm again, a smooth cadence of inhales and exhales, and I felt that uncontrollable power settle back into me and the heat sink away as a cold blanket covered me instead. I shivered and opened my eyes to Malachi watching curiously, deciphering something in his quick mind.

"That's twice you've controlled it," hesaid plainly, the low rumble of his voice sounding lightly impressed.

I shrugged, sitting on my hands to stop their cold shaking.

"You seem to be controlling yourself more too lately," I replied casually.

He returned my shrug.

"Self-control, discipline, and strategy, three of my most formidable skills, trust me. More of my training focused on those than you might think. And though not killing my allies is harder than it looks, I quite think I'm improving. But, back to the subject of my pesky little soul..." He arched an eyebrow in question.

"If you always seek a master, then you will always be a slave. You've already made me your leader, why do you want to be owned so badly?"

His eyes flashed, and I knew I had gone too far, but he couldn't just throw his life to another. Even if he didn't know how to be his own man, he had to learn. He couldn't keep giving control to new masters and allowing them to dictate his life. He had to be the one to make his own choices. I had thought he wanted that, now I wasn't so sure.

"I won't be your slave, and I'm not asking it because I want a master. I'm asking because I don't want him to be my master. I can still feel him, hear him, I fucking see him when I close my eyes and it's tearing me apart worse than any of these surface injuries. So, if you meant what you said, if you really want to help me and take away the worst of what I feel, then take me as yours. I know you won't abuse the power like he does. And even if you would, if I have to choose between him or you owning me, there's no question who I trust more with my allegiance, with my soul."

I sat speechless, both because I couldn't believe his honesty, and because I was ashamed I hadn't remembered that the Collector was still trying to pull Malachi's strings, trying to regain control over his prized pet. It had been days, days of him hardly noticing the burns because something worse was at play. Days of him dealing with whatever James' father made him feel, with still being connected to him. And nights filled with visions of him. I hadn't felt him in any danger when we slept or heard him wake from any nightmares, but I knew he wasn't sleeping much, or well. Neither of us were.

I had thought his restless nights were like mine, caused by visions of James and his death - or waking to the inferno he roomed with. But now, I doubted those were the worst things in the dark for him. Malachi's low voice rolled on at my pause, trying to convince me.