The IV dripped in its steady, slow pattern, running from the bag hovering above the nightstand, falling down the gently sloped tube to be tapered with skilled precision by medical tape that hold the needle into Metal's spine as he slept, blissfully unaware bun in a less than peaceful slumber. The bruises were becoming painfully dark and apparent, deep gauges in the forms of clawed fingertips crisscrossed numerously across his back -- cleaned and dressed under Ring's expert and too well used hands.
Unfortunately, raping and beatings severe enough to put the slender Robot Master into a pseudo-comatose was the only way to keep Metal from bingeing on alcohol. But that didn't make Elec any happier, any less worried, any less ready to plunge his hand through the back of the perpetrators' skulls. But Metal would never give names. Either for fear of himself or his lover or out of what little loyalty he had to the Robot Masters.
Sure, he could make a list of who to interrogate about these... 'incidents'. Most would as soon as rape Metal as they would any of the others. Few would do it out of some sort of grudge against the saw-blade bioroid. And only a couple would do it to hurt Elec.
And that's what made him angrier.
It was one thing to have his lover disgraced on a weekly basis out of boredom on the perpetrator's part, that couldn't be stopped no matter how hard one tried. And if it was done by someone Metal pissed off, well... unfortunately for Elec, he couldn't do anything. Metal was a very private bioroid. If Elec didn't need to know about it -- and they had very different views on the 'need-to-know' issue –- then Metal wouldn't talk about it. Even though they argued on that fact several times. But the thought that someone would do it just to get at him made Elec angrier at himself than anyone else. And everyone knew the worst way to hurt Elec -- and the surest way to get killed by him –would be to hurt Metal.
He gently stroked Metal's hair, watching the IV from across the bed, almost hypnotized by the methodical drip. He thought idly about going to get a chocolate bar or something. He hadn't had anything to eat since early morning, before he went to field training. Then he had to keep an overly hyper Quick out of trouble, babysitting him for the three hours before someone told him Metal was hurt. That was an hour and a half hour ago and he hadn't left his lover's side since. Elec squeezed the lax hand tightly, half wishing for him wake up, half wanting him to wait until his pain receptors fell to normal perimeters.
There was a soft knock at the door. He turned his head towards the noise, still sitting for a breath and a half, then slowly eased his way out of the chair and towards the portal on the wall.
Outside stood no one. But on the floor was a small basket filled with cocoa-laced goodies among with a small portion of fruits. On top the provision was a small note of consideration noted by Quick, Ring and Centaur. And, of course, a paw print from Bob.
Smiling to himself, he scooped up the basket and turned to continue his vigil when he noticed that Metal had turned his head and was watching him with a soft expression. There was a slight pause in his mid-step, but he gave relieved smile.
"Hey."
"Hey." Metal replied, his voice scratchy from misuse and thick from un-use.
"How're you feeling?"
"A little in pain," he admitted, "and a little drugged." Then came his silly, tired smile.
"Yeah, well," Elec sat down by the bed again, running a hand through the other's hair and down to cup his cheek. "I'm glad that you're okay."
He received another small smile before the younger turned his head, observing the liquid drug running into his body. He look back at Elec with a small frown.
"You won't give me alcohol, but you'll give me drugs."
Elec shrugged. He didn't really feel like getting into this argument again.
"Morphine isn't the best alternative, you know. Drop one deadly addiction for another, that your plan?"
He tried to suppress a dark scowl. "Morphine is easier to regulate. The supply is closely monitored, you wouldn't be able to get it as easily as alcohol."
Apparently, either Metal saw Elec's reluctance towards the bait or he didn't feel like fighting so soon after waking up, but he reached out a hand to collapse softly atop Elec's.
"Or," he said with a soft smile, "you could just get me addicted to chocolate."
Elec stuck out his tongue, laughter in his eyes. "No. Then I'd have to fight you for that. I'd get you addicted to pixy sticks, but one, Quick doesn't need the competition, two, that's a frightening thought."
The other chuckled. "True enough." He moved over, putting space between him and Elec, not saying anything. But the other knew what he wanted.
He slipped on to the bed, wrapping Metal in his arms. The other pressed himself tightly against the electrical Robot Master, burying his face into his chest and shivered.
Despite it all, Metal wasn't strong. He couldn't take the abuse given to him daily, he couldn't take being beaten and raped. He couldn't hold back the tears from the pain, but he wouldn't let anyone seem them either. Not even Elec. Just the small noises and the salty wetness against his chest were the only indication of the pain throttling the slender robot. He couldn't stand against everything washing around him; he couldn't fight the world that was trying to break him. But the lethargy and the apathy induced by alcohol helped him struggle to his feet after every blow. And later, the support of his few, precious friends and his gentle lover was what he depended on. But the previous addiction wouldn't be betrayed so easily and swung him by the ear every time he was hurt, demanding to be obeyed.
Not only was he living in fear and anxiety of the next beating, he was the slave to his treacherous, once-haven. Elec didn't know how to handle it other than to hold the other quietly, letting him weep out the frustrations against him. No words, just comfort.
He just had to hope, one day. One day, maybe that would be enough to break the addiction.