Darkness washes over him swiftly, the sound of the two shots that had taken him down ringing in his ears, to the backdrop of Bucky’s screams and the sounds of his struggles. He whispers Bucky’s name, but he’s already left the physical world, his conscious holding on for a few moments longer … His vision fades before the sounds do, but that, too, eventually turns into nothingness. This isn’t the first time Shiro has faced death. He’s been to the brink and back over and over again in that Arena, a few more times on that operating table when his body was used for the Witch’s experiments on hybridising the primitive human body. This time is different, though. His spirit is weakened, his mind a long with it.
He and Bucky have been running for so long. At some point it stopped being about running away from their horrid pasts. They still didn’t really have anything to run towards — there wasn’t really anything for them out there, except themselves and they already had that. He’d been happy with Bucky. Life wasn’t easy. The next day wasn’t promised. If it wasn’t outrunning bounty hunters, then it was surviving unkind planets and other beings who were also just looking to survive. Shiro’s own body was working against him, Bucky’s past and the horrible things he’d experienced under the Red King’s thumb constantly plagued him, sometimes in a way that Shiro wasn’t quite able to snap him out of. But even in the desolate, unforgiving abyss of unfamiliar territory … they had each other. And Shiro had really thought that they’d finally caught their lucky break.
He’d been lying to himself. The universe had no such plans. The Red King had caught up to them, and maybe a small part of Shiro had always known he inevitably would. He’d just wanted time with Bucky. To leave the life of fighting behind, to believe that perhaps after everything he and Bucky had been through, they deserved this version of happiness they had built for themselves. If only he had listened to that voice in his head … Maybe he would have been more careful. He could have protected Bucky … He would still be alive to have the chance to slice the Red King’s fat head off his even fatter neck.
‘ … careful. He’s coming to … Make sure that arm’s strapped down … ’
The voices drift around in the periphery of Shiro’s brain space. It feels like his mind is underwater, everything logged down and slow and dense, sounds distorted as they filter into his bubble. Slowly, but steadily, things begin to clear up, sounds become more defined, and when he finally opens his eyes, the blurry images before him sharpen into focus.
There’s not much light. It’s still stinking hot. There are two, no, three, other people in the room with him and he’s lying down on a table.
‘ Shiro, is it ? Take it easy, ’ a calm voice tells him, and Shiro blinks, turning his head to see a tall, grey-skinned being talking to him. From appearance alone, Shiro’s mind guesses their quadrant, where they might be from, what species they were. Beside them, hovering nervously, and undoubtedly the one who had ensured his arm had been strapped down, was the owner of the motel he and Bucky had been staying at.
Predictably, Shiro thrashes upward, renewed energy entering him at the thought of Bucky, but he goes nowhere, well and truly strapped down.
‘ Shiro. My name is Bezoi. I am, what you might call a doctor. My room is a floor down from yours. Our delightful keeper, Surkg, came to fetch me after he found you left for dead amongst the rubble of your room. ’
‘ ‘Oughta left him there, too, ’ Surkj mumbles, folding large arms disgruntedly over his chest, beginning to pace around. ‘ Knew yous was trouble when you came in. Smelt it on the other one, ratty lookin’ thing with the shiny arm —’
‘ Where’s Bucky ? ’Shiro roars, biting straight through the hoarseness of his throat and the pain of being shot and almost dead, again attempting to sit up.
The alien doctor holds out their hands placatingly, pressing on Shiro’s chest to ensure he was laid down properly. ‘ Your friend is not here. I have done what I can for you, but you need to rest. And heal. And then, perhaps, you may wish to pursue your Bucky, but by what Srukj tells me … He was taken by the Red Guards. ’ Their lips turn thin, grimly. ‘ No one comes back from the Red King’s capture. Everyone knows that. ’
I did. Bucky did. By no means have they been complacent since their escape, but life has certainly been easier. If you’d asked Shiro that morning if he could imagine being able to survive the life he’d already lived as a prisoner of the Red King all over again, he would have laughed. Now that he knows he has to go back there in order to find Bucky, there was nothing anybody could say or do, nothing in the damned universe that would stop him from hunting down the Red King, plunging his hand into his big, meaty, red chest and tearing out his heart and every other organ inside him until he was undone, irreversible, incapable of laying another hand on his Bucky ever again.
His arm powers up, and melts the strap holding it, and he tears off the rest of his constraints. ‘ Bucky is. I’m going to get him, ’ he says, voice low with rage and conviction, so much so, that the others in the room do nothing but step back from him.
Such a twisted sentiment that bleeds through the crowd as they roar around him, the arena pulsing with excitement and bloodlust. Here he stands, sword in hand and skin marred in paint and bruises staring down a giant beast of a creature he’s never laid eyes on before, all because the King was so satisfied with his services in bed that surely he’d like another shot at the area.
And the King expect him to be grateful. Wouldn’t you just love the chance to become the gem in the eye of the crowds as you are in my bed the King had sneered at him, mocking his attempts as freedom. Bucky had agreed for one reason, and one reason only.
Better to die a warriors death in the arena that let the King fuck him to death. He would take either, really, if it meant being reunited with Shiro somewhere safe and quiet. He’d lain awake for many a night, trapped under the bulk of the King or locked down on his cock, dreaming about what the afterlife would be like. If he and Shiro would be grated the same peace or if he would be sent straight to Hell for the lives he had taken. Would Steve be in his afterlife? Would anyone?
So, a chance at the area had not only given Bucky time and distance from his Master, but also opportunity. A warriors death and oh, if that wasn’t the most life Bucky had felt in his bones since he’d ended up back here. He’d lost track of time, caught between the King’s pleasure and his own grief for his lost love. Sleep was cruel, often wracking him with images of Shiro’s dead, forgotten body left to be feasted on by the rats of that planet with no one remembering his name.
I remember, Bucky thinks as the gong rings out and the beast starts charging towards. I remember everything. Maybe if he clings to those memories tight enough, Shiro will be there to greet him when he dies. The beast closes in and instinct kicks up for Bucky, raising his sword and throwing himself in a roll to the left to avoid the clattering horns of the brutish creature. It misses him by an inch and the crowd goes wild. Another charge and Bucky leaps to the right, skidding underneath the thundering hooves and narrowly avoiding a kick to the head.
Fuck his instinct. Fuck this place. Fuck the Red King.
On the beasts next charge, Bucky holds his ground and as the terrifying creature crashes closer, Bucky lowers his sword. A savage impale from those horns will render him as dead as Shiro in a single blow and he welcomes it with open arms. Five steps. Four.... three... Bucky closes his eyes and waits.
Pain doesn’t come. Instead a solid thunk sounds in front of him and the crowd roars as dust and heat splash over his naked, painted form; modesty hidden only by a loin cloth. Opening one eye, Bucky’s fate is revealed. The beast lies dead, impaled by a massive spear in front of him and as the crowd rages about the death they were denied, Bucky lifts his angry gaze to the battlements where the Red King stands, one spear missing from the collection beside him.
“It would seem,” the King roars, silencing the crowd, “that perhaps I fucked this one too hard last night and he has lost all sense!” The crowd bursts into deafening cheers and jaunts and Bucky’s heart sinks. He could still throw himself on the horns, if he tried hard enough. The gates open behind him and guards flood into the area to prevent just that and the manacles land on his wrist before he even considers moving.
“If you are that desperate to return to, and remain in my bed, sweet pet, you could have just asked.” A dangerous promise from the King and Bucky growls, turning to spit in the sand in the direction of the battlements and silence falls over the crowd. In the quiet rooms where it’s just them, Bucky’s insults amuse the King. Here in a crowd? They anger him.
“Perhaps a night in bed with my guards will make you more appreciative of the comforts I provide,” the King sneers and the cheers rise up once again as Bucky is grabbed by said guards and hauled right out of the area and into the cold, dark of the slave quarters. He should be scared. He’s suffered a night with these guards before in the past, multiple times before he learned his place but in truth it does nothing to his already broken heart. If he’s lucky maybe one will get too aggressive and choke him to death.
“Spendin’ the night with us eh,” the guard to his left growls out a chuckle, hauling Bucky towards one of the cells and slamming him up against the bars. A rough paw gropes over his ass and Bucky’s stomach rolls as a second later a thick, foul tasting digit is thrust past his lips and so deep into his mouth that he chokes, his body convulsing back into the grip on his ass.
“Wait,” the other guard remarks, “Sycorax will want him first, the little whore took his eye when he escaped last time.” The finger is removed and Bucky breaks into a gasping, coughing fit as he’s thrown into the cell. With his hands still bound, he takes the brunt of the fall on his shoulder with a soft cry, gritting his teeth. He remembers that guard, half hoped he’d be killed for letting him escape.
Shame. Maybe he can take the other eye, that might prompt the guard to kill him after all.
