Acts of Contrition (5/20)
Chapter 5
At first sight, the ship that boards them looks like a supply highliner from the good old days of the Emperor. More imposing and in better condition outside than within, it smells of oil spillage and rot. It’s a dreary sight too, with its rusty metal rails and its antiquated basic controls, but then so are the gun-wielding thugs lining the interior walls.
Yunho is livid. “We didn’t request your help.” Not that he has any doubt about what’s going on. They haven’t been rescued, they’ve been kidnapped-and that’s the best case scenario right now. He chances a glance at Junsu, finds the other man’s features impassive. He must be reverting to Academy training.
Better dead than captured, says the Imperial Guard. Helpful words at a time like this.
“We’re just good Samaritans,” one of the men replies, snorting with a loud guffaw that seems wrenched straight from his gut. He’s a burly character, with deep scar marring his neck. It’s not very long, but it looks deep. Someone stabbed him. “Same as you fine boys, I’m sure.”
There’s a quip he wants to take issue with, but Junsu is quicker to react. “If you’re so hell bent on altruism, how come you’ve yet to identify yourselves?” he bites out, legs spread out and arms crossed over his back, well within reach of the gun Yunho knows he has tucked at the waistband of his khakis.
Without his uniform, Junsu looks younger. That’s probably what the other men see, chuckling slightly at the demand but not disagreeing overtly.
“You’re on the Cerberus,” a female voice intervenes from a catwalk above their heads. The words are stilted and heavy with an accent Yunho can’t quite recognize. The same holds true for its owner: a woman well into her thirties who bears the same scar as the man below. Her smile is just as ugly. “Captain Tomoe Jiexi, at your service.”
A woman captain. Yunho bites back an incredulous remark. Next thing you know, they’ll find they’ve landed on a rebel ship and She’s somewhere among its passengers. He doesn’t wish that kind of chance to befall them; not anymore.
“Do you make your living out of kidnapping people, Captain?” he asks, a hint of warning in his tone. It’s not meant for the woman; it’s directed towards Junsu, even if there’s no way they can take the half-dozen heavily armed men surrounding them. Imperial Guards don’t go down without a fight. “If your scanners haven’t told you already, we’ve got no cargo.” And it’s not like their shuttle is any great prize, either.
Leaning forward on the railing, Captain Tomoe shows off the array of dog tags decorating her cleavage. Ex-Guard then, Yunho notes uneasily. The last time women were allowed into the Academy was ten years ago, since then the military reform has outlawed their participation. No one wants another Empress-whore.
“Your ship has fuel,” she explains curtly, revealing her nature like a wolf would bare its fangs. It isn’t hard to tell why men follow her lead, though Yunho steels himself against the lure. “You were bound on course towards Elysia, what business do you have there?”
Junsu’s temper flares at her tone. “None of yours,” he hisses, Yunho’s cautioning look doing nothing to hold him back. Fortunately, it seems to amuse rather than anger the stern-faced Captain; but then who can tell with women who take themselves to be men, anyway?
“My friend lacks patience,” Yunho amends quickly, his words punctuated by the sound of heavy boots descending from the catwalk. “I hope he hasn’t offended.”
Captain Jiexi laughs. “He’s a hot-headed boy, of course he lacks patience,” she agrees, stopping in front of Junsu. She’s short despite her heavy platforms, but that doesn’t diminish her authority in the slightest. In a moment, her smile is gone as if it was barely there to begin with. The transformation is chilling and so is the slap she delivers.
Recoiling in shock, Junsu’s eyes hold the look of a child, scolded for a reason he can’t possibly understand. At least he was taken off guard. Under any other circumstances, he might’ve reached for his gun and Yunho can’t allow himself to think of that scenario for long.
“On my ship, no one talks back,” the Captain snarls. “Keep your friend sedated if you have to, but keep him in line.”
It’s like the Academy all over again. Yunho watches another young recruit get punished for insubordination and feels torn between sympathy and Schadenfreude. Incredible how quick the transformation.
“With all due respect,” he flatters, holding back his own ire, “we didn’t ask to be on your ship. We’d be happy to return to our own and be on our way to Elysia.” He uses the name he’s heard from her lips; it must be what the locals call that godforsaken rock and he can’t risk standing out with military lingo.
“And why would you two boys be going there?” one of the men jeers, hand lax on the automatic strapped to his chest. “Honeymooning?”
Like any good Captain, Jiexi laughs with her men, but her eyes betray her. A chill courses down Yunho’s spine. She knows. What exactly, he’s not sure, but she knows more than she’s letting on. A tattoo of his rank and name on his forehead wouldn’t be as obvious and meaningful as the smile that quirks at the corners of her lips. He recognizes it for what it is: a threat.
“We’re visiting,” he answers, for her ears only, devoting his attention to the Captain.
Her eyebrows arch questioningly and he’s surprised to find they’ve been drawn on with a pencil. One wouldn’t think a woman in her position would have any need for artifice. “The sights?” she questions.
“A friend.”
She takes the information in without reply, seemingly letting the matter drop. She doesn’t seem to be in the habit of letting people off the hook so easily.
“You’re in luck. We’re heading to Elysia ourselves.” Looking self-satisfied, she extends a hand towards him and another towards the still-stricken Junsu. “We’ll be happy to escort you if you hand over that nice little weapon you’ve got there. Wouldn’t want to have to frisk you.”
The former pilot makes no move, his gaze level and firm. Horrible responsibility comes with loyal men and for a long, ghastly second, Yunho wonders what might happen if he were to play it by the ear, like he used to do with their squadron. Changmin’s unheard scream jostles the idea right out of him and he obeys.
There’s a click of weaponry as the other thugs watch the handover, and Junsu eventually follows his own conscience, sullen; silent. Yunho doesn’t speak, he obeys the woman’s order. Her ego unsettles him.
So does her conniving wink. It makes her look like a child. One with an automatic in each hand.
“One big happy family,” she grins, spinning on her heel. “Someone show our guests to a room.”
There’s no argument, no reference to their request. An accord has been written in stone, unchangeable now. And though Yunho may disagree, for now they’re alive. By the slight jump in the Captain’s step, he can’t decide if that’s a good thing.
***
He wakes up in warmth and softness, the scent of antiseptic and fresh cotton heavy in the air.
Blinking fuzzily, he lets his eyes open to slits, scanning his surroundings. He moves to slide his fingers along his form, checking his condition out of habit, finding one arm in a sling and the other cuffed to something unseen. What the hell is going on?
Changmin’s eyes slide over to the right, whispers catching his ears. What he sees surprises him: Yoochun, sitting cross-legged on a cot, gesturing with his hands and talking softly. Hands that wrung screams from Changmin’s throat only hours before, now rest on a blanketed knee, drawing lazy circles, lacing with slender fingers.
His eyes travel further, taking in Jaejoong’s pale form, his own indulgent smile and the bandage covering his temple. Their moment is soft, and stolen, and not his to watch. Not his to understand, and fuck, why is he here?
As if he’s been heard, Yoochun’s gaze slides to his, the softness gone from his features, clicking into place razor sharp. He stands and crosses the small space, Changmin struggling to sit, to move out of the bed before he can reach him. Before the whole sick ordeal starts again, or worse.
Rough hands turn strangely gentle as they take a hold of his shoulder, skimming the bruises and the brace, tightening slightly as if to remind that they can cause pain.
“It will heal fine,” the other man murmurs, eyes black as obsidian, red rimming them. Has he been crying? Changmin feels like he’s taken a wrong turn somewhere, fallen into the rabbit hole like in that story his grandmother used to tell.
“Why am I here?” he demands, panic threading through him. What is going on?
Yoochun doesn’t answer him, hands falling from Changmin’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
He is, God, he is, but he doesn’t trust these men. Not at all, doesn’t trust them not to have his food poisoned and what is this? “Why haven’t you just tossed me back in my cell?”
Another look and the man moves back from the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was disoriented from the head wound. He was starting down the hall where I’d gone to. It collapsed.”
His eyes take in those hands, twisting together, corded muscles standing out under the tattoo on his forearm. “You pushed him back.” Yoochun inclines his head, managing to look imposing and utterly shaken at the same time. “I knew your lot was inhuman, but I didn’t think you were so far removed that you wouldn’t recognize gratitude.”
Bristling at the words, Changmin scowls furiously at him. “If I was as inhuman as you say, I would’ve let him die and made a run for it, wouldn’t I?”
Dark eyes bore into his own but offer no protest. Shaking his head, Yoochun moves to tug Changmin’s shirt up, a sudden rush of fear shooting through the younger man, remembering the scene in the cell. How no one had come to her aid.
He shoves hard at the man’s shoulder, spitting with anger and ready to defend himself against the fucking pervert.
“Stay the hell away from me! Fuck your boyfriend if you’re that hard up.”
Dark eyes meet his own in shock, before that jaw tightens in fury. “How fucking dare you accuse me of something like that?” he hisses, hands clenched in fists. “We are not monsters like you Guard savages!”
Changmin bares his teeth, purely aggressive. “No? You just let women get raped in your cells without batting an eye. Real fucking noble cause you have here.”
For a half a second, he expects Yoochun to strike him, the man’s chest heaving in anger. But instead he turns, storming towards the door, spitting back over his shoulder one last retort: “Call us savage, but we didn’t think it was right to fucking stare at a man and his wife while they were having sex.” The words are biting, said between clenched teeth, and he slams the door behind him.
Sitting back against the bed, chest heaving and mind-spinning, Changmin looks over to find dark eyes watching him coolly.
He forces down his unease, lets the false concern worm its way into place. “Are you alright?” he asks, surprised he doesn’t choke on the words.
A tilt of delicate features. “You can ask me that, but you can say such awful things to him?”
Shit, Changmin thinks, wanting to rewind the entirety of the past five minutes. He was wasted in intel just for this reason. “I know what I saw.”
Jaejoong gives him a hard look, the expression inexplicably cold. “Do you? Gun Il was put in there a week ago for stealing supplies. His wife missed him in their bed. We’re not cold enough to deny them a moment.” Features smooth out. “Maybe you’re too young to understand that passion just yet.”
Face turning hot with annoyance and embarrassment, Changmin reins in a glare. “I’ve had sex.”
Jaejoong ignores him. “You’ll understand it someday. What makes them not care they’re in public, in a cold cell. What makes Yoochun go against his better judgment with you, simply because you pushed me out of the way of some debris.”
A shake of the head and Jaejoong shifts back on his own cot, closing his eyes. “What will see you back in that cell and left to rot if you ever speak that way to him again.”
Changmin’s jaw tightens but he says nothing, all too aware of the guards outside the door, of his own injuries. Staring down at the sheets, his hand drifts up unconsciously, smoothing over the faint trace of a bite mark, still imprinted in pale skin.
There is silence.
At first sight, the ship that boards them looks like a supply highliner from the good old days of the Emperor. More imposing and in better condition outside than within, it smells of oil spillage and rot. It’s a dreary sight too, with its rusty metal rails and its antiquated basic controls, but then so are the gun-wielding thugs lining the interior walls.
Yunho is livid. “We didn’t request your help.” Not that he has any doubt about what’s going on. They haven’t been rescued, they’ve been kidnapped-and that’s the best case scenario right now. He chances a glance at Junsu, finds the other man’s features impassive. He must be reverting to Academy training.
Better dead than captured, says the Imperial Guard. Helpful words at a time like this.
“We’re just good Samaritans,” one of the men replies, snorting with a loud guffaw that seems wrenched straight from his gut. He’s a burly character, with deep scar marring his neck. It’s not very long, but it looks deep. Someone stabbed him. “Same as you fine boys, I’m sure.”
There’s a quip he wants to take issue with, but Junsu is quicker to react. “If you’re so hell bent on altruism, how come you’ve yet to identify yourselves?” he bites out, legs spread out and arms crossed over his back, well within reach of the gun Yunho knows he has tucked at the waistband of his khakis.
Without his uniform, Junsu looks younger. That’s probably what the other men see, chuckling slightly at the demand but not disagreeing overtly.
“You’re on the Cerberus,” a female voice intervenes from a catwalk above their heads. The words are stilted and heavy with an accent Yunho can’t quite recognize. The same holds true for its owner: a woman well into her thirties who bears the same scar as the man below. Her smile is just as ugly. “Captain Tomoe Jiexi, at your service.”
A woman captain. Yunho bites back an incredulous remark. Next thing you know, they’ll find they’ve landed on a rebel ship and She’s somewhere among its passengers. He doesn’t wish that kind of chance to befall them; not anymore.
“Do you make your living out of kidnapping people, Captain?” he asks, a hint of warning in his tone. It’s not meant for the woman; it’s directed towards Junsu, even if there’s no way they can take the half-dozen heavily armed men surrounding them. Imperial Guards don’t go down without a fight. “If your scanners haven’t told you already, we’ve got no cargo.” And it’s not like their shuttle is any great prize, either.
Leaning forward on the railing, Captain Tomoe shows off the array of dog tags decorating her cleavage. Ex-Guard then, Yunho notes uneasily. The last time women were allowed into the Academy was ten years ago, since then the military reform has outlawed their participation. No one wants another Empress-whore.
“Your ship has fuel,” she explains curtly, revealing her nature like a wolf would bare its fangs. It isn’t hard to tell why men follow her lead, though Yunho steels himself against the lure. “You were bound on course towards Elysia, what business do you have there?”
Junsu’s temper flares at her tone. “None of yours,” he hisses, Yunho’s cautioning look doing nothing to hold him back. Fortunately, it seems to amuse rather than anger the stern-faced Captain; but then who can tell with women who take themselves to be men, anyway?
“My friend lacks patience,” Yunho amends quickly, his words punctuated by the sound of heavy boots descending from the catwalk. “I hope he hasn’t offended.”
Captain Jiexi laughs. “He’s a hot-headed boy, of course he lacks patience,” she agrees, stopping in front of Junsu. She’s short despite her heavy platforms, but that doesn’t diminish her authority in the slightest. In a moment, her smile is gone as if it was barely there to begin with. The transformation is chilling and so is the slap she delivers.
Recoiling in shock, Junsu’s eyes hold the look of a child, scolded for a reason he can’t possibly understand. At least he was taken off guard. Under any other circumstances, he might’ve reached for his gun and Yunho can’t allow himself to think of that scenario for long.
“On my ship, no one talks back,” the Captain snarls. “Keep your friend sedated if you have to, but keep him in line.”
It’s like the Academy all over again. Yunho watches another young recruit get punished for insubordination and feels torn between sympathy and Schadenfreude. Incredible how quick the transformation.
“With all due respect,” he flatters, holding back his own ire, “we didn’t ask to be on your ship. We’d be happy to return to our own and be on our way to Elysia.” He uses the name he’s heard from her lips; it must be what the locals call that godforsaken rock and he can’t risk standing out with military lingo.
“And why would you two boys be going there?” one of the men jeers, hand lax on the automatic strapped to his chest. “Honeymooning?”
Like any good Captain, Jiexi laughs with her men, but her eyes betray her. A chill courses down Yunho’s spine. She knows. What exactly, he’s not sure, but she knows more than she’s letting on. A tattoo of his rank and name on his forehead wouldn’t be as obvious and meaningful as the smile that quirks at the corners of her lips. He recognizes it for what it is: a threat.
“We’re visiting,” he answers, for her ears only, devoting his attention to the Captain.
Her eyebrows arch questioningly and he’s surprised to find they’ve been drawn on with a pencil. One wouldn’t think a woman in her position would have any need for artifice. “The sights?” she questions.
“A friend.”
She takes the information in without reply, seemingly letting the matter drop. She doesn’t seem to be in the habit of letting people off the hook so easily.
“You’re in luck. We’re heading to Elysia ourselves.” Looking self-satisfied, she extends a hand towards him and another towards the still-stricken Junsu. “We’ll be happy to escort you if you hand over that nice little weapon you’ve got there. Wouldn’t want to have to frisk you.”
The former pilot makes no move, his gaze level and firm. Horrible responsibility comes with loyal men and for a long, ghastly second, Yunho wonders what might happen if he were to play it by the ear, like he used to do with their squadron. Changmin’s unheard scream jostles the idea right out of him and he obeys.
There’s a click of weaponry as the other thugs watch the handover, and Junsu eventually follows his own conscience, sullen; silent. Yunho doesn’t speak, he obeys the woman’s order. Her ego unsettles him.
So does her conniving wink. It makes her look like a child. One with an automatic in each hand.
“One big happy family,” she grins, spinning on her heel. “Someone show our guests to a room.”
There’s no argument, no reference to their request. An accord has been written in stone, unchangeable now. And though Yunho may disagree, for now they’re alive. By the slight jump in the Captain’s step, he can’t decide if that’s a good thing.
***
He wakes up in warmth and softness, the scent of antiseptic and fresh cotton heavy in the air.
Blinking fuzzily, he lets his eyes open to slits, scanning his surroundings. He moves to slide his fingers along his form, checking his condition out of habit, finding one arm in a sling and the other cuffed to something unseen. What the hell is going on?
Changmin’s eyes slide over to the right, whispers catching his ears. What he sees surprises him: Yoochun, sitting cross-legged on a cot, gesturing with his hands and talking softly. Hands that wrung screams from Changmin’s throat only hours before, now rest on a blanketed knee, drawing lazy circles, lacing with slender fingers.
His eyes travel further, taking in Jaejoong’s pale form, his own indulgent smile and the bandage covering his temple. Their moment is soft, and stolen, and not his to watch. Not his to understand, and fuck, why is he here?
As if he’s been heard, Yoochun’s gaze slides to his, the softness gone from his features, clicking into place razor sharp. He stands and crosses the small space, Changmin struggling to sit, to move out of the bed before he can reach him. Before the whole sick ordeal starts again, or worse.
Rough hands turn strangely gentle as they take a hold of his shoulder, skimming the bruises and the brace, tightening slightly as if to remind that they can cause pain.
“It will heal fine,” the other man murmurs, eyes black as obsidian, red rimming them. Has he been crying? Changmin feels like he’s taken a wrong turn somewhere, fallen into the rabbit hole like in that story his grandmother used to tell.
“Why am I here?” he demands, panic threading through him. What is going on?
Yoochun doesn’t answer him, hands falling from Changmin’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
He is, God, he is, but he doesn’t trust these men. Not at all, doesn’t trust them not to have his food poisoned and what is this? “Why haven’t you just tossed me back in my cell?”
Another look and the man moves back from the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was disoriented from the head wound. He was starting down the hall where I’d gone to. It collapsed.”
His eyes take in those hands, twisting together, corded muscles standing out under the tattoo on his forearm. “You pushed him back.” Yoochun inclines his head, managing to look imposing and utterly shaken at the same time. “I knew your lot was inhuman, but I didn’t think you were so far removed that you wouldn’t recognize gratitude.”
Bristling at the words, Changmin scowls furiously at him. “If I was as inhuman as you say, I would’ve let him die and made a run for it, wouldn’t I?”
Dark eyes bore into his own but offer no protest. Shaking his head, Yoochun moves to tug Changmin’s shirt up, a sudden rush of fear shooting through the younger man, remembering the scene in the cell. How no one had come to her aid.
He shoves hard at the man’s shoulder, spitting with anger and ready to defend himself against the fucking pervert.
“Stay the hell away from me! Fuck your boyfriend if you’re that hard up.”
Dark eyes meet his own in shock, before that jaw tightens in fury. “How fucking dare you accuse me of something like that?” he hisses, hands clenched in fists. “We are not monsters like you Guard savages!”
Changmin bares his teeth, purely aggressive. “No? You just let women get raped in your cells without batting an eye. Real fucking noble cause you have here.”
For a half a second, he expects Yoochun to strike him, the man’s chest heaving in anger. But instead he turns, storming towards the door, spitting back over his shoulder one last retort: “Call us savage, but we didn’t think it was right to fucking stare at a man and his wife while they were having sex.” The words are biting, said between clenched teeth, and he slams the door behind him.
Sitting back against the bed, chest heaving and mind-spinning, Changmin looks over to find dark eyes watching him coolly.
He forces down his unease, lets the false concern worm its way into place. “Are you alright?” he asks, surprised he doesn’t choke on the words.
A tilt of delicate features. “You can ask me that, but you can say such awful things to him?”
Shit, Changmin thinks, wanting to rewind the entirety of the past five minutes. He was wasted in intel just for this reason. “I know what I saw.”
Jaejoong gives him a hard look, the expression inexplicably cold. “Do you? Gun Il was put in there a week ago for stealing supplies. His wife missed him in their bed. We’re not cold enough to deny them a moment.” Features smooth out. “Maybe you’re too young to understand that passion just yet.”
Face turning hot with annoyance and embarrassment, Changmin reins in a glare. “I’ve had sex.”
Jaejoong ignores him. “You’ll understand it someday. What makes them not care they’re in public, in a cold cell. What makes Yoochun go against his better judgment with you, simply because you pushed me out of the way of some debris.”
A shake of the head and Jaejoong shifts back on his own cot, closing his eyes. “What will see you back in that cell and left to rot if you ever speak that way to him again.”
Changmin’s jaw tightens but he says nothing, all too aware of the guards outside the door, of his own injuries. Staring down at the sheets, his hand drifts up unconsciously, smoothing over the faint trace of a bite mark, still imprinted in pale skin.
There is silence.