Through a glass, darkly
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Harmon Rabb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clark Palmer's side of his subjugation of Harmon Rabb, along with some of his history.
Companion piece to The Challenge
Disclaimers: I know these two guys don't belong to me, but I also know that I needed to write this, just to get it out of my system. And I'm really not making any money off this.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Warnings: This is full of very, very bad things. If you didn't like The Challenge, you are not going to like this one. Trust me, please. It has m/m sex, rape, beatings, physical and mental torture, explicit abuse, and death of a character, although not a canon one.
Spoilers: Impact, Imposter, Webb of Lies, Wilderness of Mirrors, Contemptuous Words. This takes place some time after Contemptuous Words and disregards many of the developments of the fifth season.
Notes: This universe has no AIDS, so there's no need for safe sex. About the sex in prison, this is Clark Palmer's account of what happened, which means there's no guarantee that what he says is at all the truth. It was probably much harder, much more brutal and violent and deadly in prison than this account. But that's what I was able to write. Both my betas tried to convince to try and be more realistic, but I just wouldn't give. So please don't tell me it's unrealistic, because I know that already. Reality is not my favorite place to spend my time. That's one of the reason I write slash.
Many, many thanks to Katja and Mareen, both of whom took time to deal with my Clark Palmer obsession once again, and who never said, why are you asking me to read another dark story, or go write something happy. They're muses and blessings. And to Greg, for making sure I shut down the computer at some point and ate very well indeed.
If before or after you read this, you want to either find out what this one is talking about or refresh your memory, The Challenge can be found here. But please read the warnings and make an informed decision.
*****
From Imposter:
Rabb: What happened to you, Palmer? What could possibly happen to a person to cause him to lose every shred of human compassion?
Palmer: Stay in Washington a few more years.And from Wilderness of Mirrors:
Rabb: What are you after?
Palmer: Your attention. I want every second of your life to be about me. When you're awake, when you're asleep, when you're on the can, and when you die.*****
After Harmon Rabb managed to shoot me instead of his precious Jordan, I knew that I had to get him. It just took a while to figure out the right way.
He was right there when they led me into Leavenworth, making sure I didn't get away again, then hiding his gloating with concern, telling *me* to get help. I gave him a look that was as full of as much contempt as I could manage to pay for that little jewel of wisdom. Oh, sure, Commander. I'll do that. You just go back to your pretty Jordan and get your reward for having 'saved' her. And enjoy it, because you didn't, really. The woman saved herself. Should have made sure she couldn't move the chair. But that's done. Oh, and watch your back, Rabb. She might put you back under that keen psychiatric eye. And you'd end up telling her the truth. Me, I had my story all planned. You might not like what comes out of those conversations. The idea of that made me smile. Harm wouldn't end up being able to charm his way out of that too easily. I'd done some serious research into him, and he was full of complexes. Or at least she'd think so.
I didn't say any of that. It would have told him way more than his brain could handle or process properly, and I was too busy making sure that I got that paper clip from the ground that those idiots dropped, and hiding it. It wasn't much, but I knew I'd be able to use it. And making sure he got one last shot from me, the best I could do without giving anything away. "He cares," I told the guards, not even bothering to talk to him. The next time I spoke with Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., I promised myself, he'd be on my hook, dancing to my tune.
I hate cliches, but they were all that I could think of. You try getting shot when you were sure you were about to win big-time, then getting bandaged and shuttled to federal prison to serve the time they'd sentenced you to while the man who put you there, who should be in a hell so full of flames that he can't even breathe for screaming is sitting there, acting the big hero. Then you try to come up with some kind of new ways to say old things. Bet you don't. No, I was going back to serve the time I'd gotten out of with the help of some DSD friends. Some of it, anyway. I was too valuable to rot in some prison cell. And I knew that I wasn't going to rot there this time, either.
I just had to wait, and survive. And I knew all about both of those.
*****
It wasn't that bad in prison during the day. It was a job, just like going undercover, and I'd done that before. I did just what I knew I had to do to get where I needed to be, in that room taking reservations and keeping an eye on Rabb. The paper clip, along with some supplies I sent away for, things that looked so innocent that the guards just shrugged at them, got me into my Rabb surveillance set-up and anywhere else I wanted to go. It wasn't easy to keep the guards from seeing what I was doing, and I had to make sure that all the little programs and safeguards they had to make sure none of us broke the rules stayed quiet, but I've always been good with computers. No one figured out what I was up to, of course.
The Internet had to have been created either by a complete idiot who never thought about anything but how cool it would be to have all that data available, or by someone like me, who knew just what it was going to be capable of. It was perfect for being in more than one place at one time. I could get in touch with anyone I wanted to, find out everything that Rabb was doing, or rather, everything he was screwing up.
I laughed when I found out that he'd gone back to flying. Following in his daddy's footsteps one more time. But it gave me an idea. One of the first things I'd realized about Harmon Rabb, Junior, was that his name suited him. His father was the most important thing in his life. I'd thought that when he found the truth about his father's death, that he'd be free, but I should have known better. Harm-boy has his father embedded in his soul. Everything he does, everything he is, is because it would make his father proud, or to make up for the fact that his father vanished.
Harm needed a father. And his stepfather hadn't managed to take his place. Admiral Chegwidden did in some ways, but not as much as the commander needed. The commander needed to be commanded, even wanted it. Now that was a definite idea. I could work with that.
I got into his most personal and private records, the kind he probably didn't even know were there, and studied them. The clues were all there, once I knew what I was looking for. I laughed at the thought of pretty Jordy studying the same files. She'd be horrified. But then she probably had decided in her subconscious that she didn't want to know. And that was a good move on her part, because if she did, she might know that no one had a chance of staying in Harmon Rabb's life. No one, except me. I was like his father, an obsession. And I intended to make that obsession even stronger.
The funny thing is that it was the prison life that gave me the way. Maybe you've heard about prisons and sex? It's true. And I'd been warned. Go along and find out who's the boss, then take them out. Or find a way to ally with them, but go along first. I've never had any inclination toward other men, but then that wasn't about inclination. It was about survival.
The first man that got inside me was big, and just rough enough to make an impression. He cornered me in the shower, with a few of his buddies, and laughed about how easy I was to take. I gritted my teeth and let him do what he wanted. And promised myself before long I'd be on the giving end.
The next time someone tried to get to me, I made sure he knew I had something to offer. It wasn't going to hurt as much if I was...cooperative. And it didn't. I can't say I enjoyed taking it up the ass or giving blow jobs, but I wasn't lying in my bunk trying to deal with blood trickling down my legs, either. I was learning more all the time. And no one, no one, was taking me seriously. All according to plan.
That changed soon enough. One day, it was shower time, and one of the guys came over with his dick hard and ready for some fun.
"Come on, kid," he growled, like I was his. "Give me what I want."
Oh, yes. I glanced at him. Yes, he'd do. I was ready to take the next step in my plan. "Sure thing," I said, keeping my voice smooth. And I used everything I'd learned about taking a man down to get him right where he really wanted to be. On his hands and knees, and my hard cock shoved up his ass. Damn, it felt good, being back in control. And I'd chosen the right man. He was in the middle of the hierarchy, and he knew just what it was to get fucked. And I decided to give him a good ride. He'd gotten a little sloppy, coming after me without any kind of backup. But then why would he need it? I was the new kid, the one everybody got to have. Not this time, not any time again.
I'd learned enough to make sure he had a good ride, too. A few guys had made me feel good, and I'd studied physiology to know why. With a little practice on myself at night in my bunk, I knew what to feel for. And this guy's prostate was easy to hit, a big one. I had him moaning and begging me for more and harder in moments.
After that little encounter and a couple more, plus a fight or three when someone decided that they preferred me to catch instead of pitch, and ended up in the infirmary, I stopped being the new kid. And started being courted. God, it was hilarious. Guys who wanted me to fuck them would sidle up to me, pass me chocolate and cigarettes. If that's what they wanted, I didn't mind. It was flattering. And I liked fucking, even with guys. After a few months, especially with guys. I just made sure I was the one who made the final decisions of who, where, and when. I wasn't going to lose my control again.
*****
It was a gift when I learned about the editorial. I knew it couldn't be Rabb. He was too straight to let himself think that way, and intelligent enough to know if he did that the culprit would be found. I was pretty sure he agreed with the piece. Not too badly written. But not his style. Too many adverbs. Harm wasn't a man who went for that, but the Inspector General Corps found the trail coming out of his computer, and suddenly Harmon Rabb, hero, patriot, and just all-around good guy, was being blamed for writing contemptuous words. I enjoyed every minute of it. Harm was going through hell, and I couldn't think of a more perfect suspect. Maybe he'd even be found guilty. That would put him right in Leavenworth. With me. And Harm would find out just how good I could be.
I put those thoughts aside. This was an opportunity. I took what I was given, and went with it. First, a message to Harm's loyal sidekick, Bud. I was willing to bet that everyone else in that office was just a little bit unsure, except of course the Admiral, who'd back his boy every time, but Mr. Roberts wasn't the kind who'd bug out. I fixed it so that the message got there during working hours. That way I was pretty sure Harm would find out about it right away. It was a bonus that he was there with Roberts when the message came.
How did I know that? It's amazing what you can do with the latest technology, and I'd had plenty of chances to get into JAG and plant what I needed. Hell, it was one of the ways I kept track of Harm, learned what I needed to know for the first time I impersonated him. Too bad that job had fallen through. It led to all the rest of this shit. But my bugs never got found. I knew just how to plant them so that even the great Clayton Webb couldn't spot them.
But this time I was going to show Harmon Rabb, and myself, just how well I knew him. And I did. Rabb was at Leavenworth even faster than I thought. Chalk that up to his allies, the Roanoke Liberty Foundation. They moved to help him. Rabb had better be careful, I thought. Let those vultures get a claw or two in him, and he'd be dancing to their tune the rest of his career. And I wasn't going to have that. But I'd take care of them if I had to. Right now I was waiting for Rabb. I knew when he made the reservations, knew when he landed, when he got to the front gate. And I was waiting. Of course I hadn't written the damn editorial. But it was perfect that he thought I had. And knowing Rabb, he'd told people. He was going to look damned stupid when he came back with nothing.
I remember looking up to see him. Ah, the sheer joy of seeing that angry, set, very tired, and always handsome face. I had Harmon Rabb. I'd made him jump. I might be in a prison cell, fucking for cigarettes that I didn't even smoke, but he was in a cell, too, the one I'd made for him. He was his usual charming self, even more brusque than ever. Guess being suspected of criticizing his Commander-in-Chief didn't make for good sleeping. I knew he was losing the psychiatrist, and that he didn't want to. Amazing. Harmon Rabb actually giving a damn about a woman. But that wasn't going to last.
I gave Harm my best greetings, behaving just the way he expected me to. Why tip him off? Poor Harm, he needed all the help he could get, and all I gave him was grief. And a carefully planted file that was so obvious that it should have made him know right then it wasn't me.
But Harm was way too convinced of my 'evil genius' to give up the idea. It took the Inspector General's guy to tell him he was wrong. And I had to do some fast fixing on my terminal to make it look as though I'd 'accidentally' found a way out. I got a lecture from the colonel and a new terminal. I was glad. This one was better, and smarter, much easier to change. So Harm did me a favor. But I had to be careful until I was sure none of those guards were watching any more. Then I was right back where I wanted to be.
Just in time, too. I got the message I'd been waiting for. There was a job that needed me, and promises of anything I wanted if I would do it. Of course. Now it was up to me to make sure that those promises were kept. But first I had to get out of that damned prison. I got some help on that, too. I had friends, always had, or at least intelligent allies who owed me. Might as well be the same thing. And I made sure they knew it would be worth their while to get me out, now.
And it happened. With help, I was 'dead.' And out of Leavenworth before anyone knew that the body there in the morgue wasn't mine.
I took a couple of days for myself. I had to make my plans for Harmon Rabb. They weren't perfect, but I knew they'd work. All I needed was enough time with him, and that was easy enough to figure out how to get. There was never any question of where I was going. It had to be D.C., to fashion a cell, then a little apartment north of Union Station, to pick up my prisoner. I had someone to teach all about the realities of prison life, and the realities of me. And he was going to be so grateful. It was funny, really. You could say that I did Harmon Rabb a favor, coming back into his life, especially since I'd been doing so well messing it up. He certainly came over to that point of view.
How I messed up his life? Oh, I had fun with him. I used one of my Swiss bank accounts, the small one, put it in his name to make it seem as though he was taking money on the side, and that was the worst of what I did. Minor irritations, really. But they kept the heat on, and the pressure. And I wanted Harm worn down and out of energy. That kind of exhaustion was going to make my life a lot easier, and I enjoyed it.
*****
Taking him was no problem at all. Predictable, that's my boy. First Jordan, like she was going to save him. But she wasn't in the mood, and Harm ended up at the grocery store. I was waiting for him at his place, monitoring his every move. More gadgets. I love the things. It's a hell of a lot easier to trust machinery than people. That was always Rabb's mistake, trusting people. Never mine.
When he pulled up, I had time to check that he was alone. If he'd managed to pick up someone, I would have been out of there before his key pushed into the lock. And we would have had our fun another day. But Rabb was alone. And mine.
I hit him with a simple knockout drug as soon as he got in the door, and that was the end of Harm's chances to get away from me. But getting Harmon Rabb had never been a problem for me, and I didn't take any time to rejoice over something that small. I had to get my new boy to the place where all of the dreams he'd never thought to have would come true, and where all the ones I'd been having would.
All I did was drag him down the same stairs he'd just come up. No one was around to see. I shoved him in the back of my car, making sure he was bound just enough to keep him from doing anything stupid, in case I'd screwed up the dosage, and kept watch on him in the rear-view mirror as I drove. He never even stirred, and I got him into the building without incident.
Where I took him? There were places the DSD had that never showed up on any records. I chose one, and hired someone I'd worked with before to make the modifications. He did the work, took the cash, and left without a single question. For all I knew, he'd never heard about the DSD being disbanded. But then he'd never been a curious man, one of the reasons he was still alive.
I hid the car, got Harm into the cell, and watched him sleep. I had a drug that would wake him, but it was a moment I wanted to savor. The commander who'd thought he could judge me, who'd actually managed to get in my way, was stripped, helpless, in my power at last. I felt myself get hard, and pushed back the urge to let him wake up to that in his face. No, I wouldn't do that to Harm yet. Had to save something for the days to come.
When his body shifted, I stood. Time for the game to begin.
*****
You know, there never was a drug like I told him. Oh, yes, a sedative. And a hypnotic, and I used that one, but he'll never remember that. I had good drugs, but hell, no one's got that kind of firepower, to bring out suppressed desires. Rabb was just too damned tired to know what hit him, and I was too good for him to resist. But then he wasn't supposed to. He was supposed to break, and he did. I made sure of it. All the right trappings, and all of them made to get to him. Putting him in that cell was revenge, amusement, and appropriate tactics. His father had held fast in a cell, or so he thought. Everybody breaks, I could have told him, but that would have given him comfort. And I wanted his only comfort to come from me.
*****
Harm was going to have to learn to want the new life I was giving him. But I had faith in the boy. He'd learn. Or he'd find out how good I was at dealing out punishment and pain. And believe me, he did. I had a lot of work to get him to understand that I wasn't going to put up with too much out of that mouth of his. Lawyers always think that they can talk their way out of anything. Not this time.
People think that those two, pain and punishment, are the same. Not always. Harm and I got to the point that I could punish him by giving him a certain look of disappointment, and he became very good at staying hard even through the hardest beating. Poor Harmon Rabb Senior. He missed out on a hell of a son. But then I got what he missed out on. And I knew that Rabb Senior would never have had my kind of fun with his boy. The lieutenant was just too straight and normal for that. If he'd been the one to bring up Harm...but then he'd gone down over Vietnam. Which suited me just fine.
*****
I enjoyed every minute of our time together, especially once Harm gave up fighting and sulking and understood that he was dependent on me to stay alive, but I had a job to do, the reason I'd gotten the get-out-of-jail free card, and I knew that getting my patron angry at me wouldn't be smart. The man was just unpredictable enough to get me put back in there if he thought I was double-crossing him, and I certainly wasn't going to explain my little project to him. I knew that he'd decide he wanted a hand in it, and that wasn't going to happen unless I made the decision. Or had no other choice.
I'd thought about calling in a favor or two, keeping Harm drugged during the few days it was going to take me to, making sure he'd be right there, desperate and waiting for me. It had its good points, but the plan wasn't to make Harmon Rabb disappear like his daddy. No, Harm was going to have to live in the real world as well as mine. So I let him go for the first test. I wanted to see what he would do. Would he tell, and start the hunt, or would he keep quiet out of shame and doubt? I was almost certain he'd keep quiet, but even I make mistakes.
But not this time. He passed, or rather, failed. Not a word. And I knew I had him. Harmon Rabb, officer, lawyer, believer in truth over all else, was lying, to his superiors, his friends, and most importantly, to himself.
My victory was sweet. And there was more to come.
Now I had to take him again, and this time make him know just how much he'd changed. And I was looking forward to it.
*****
The first rule in brainwashing is, never let them think they can outthink you. Always keep your subject certain he's in over his head. That was easy to do with Rabb, who'd never been able to anticipate me without serious help, which he never listened to, anyway, but I couldn't afford to let down my guard. And I was beginning to wonder if I already had.
The thing was, this whole experiment was changing me as well. I'd never been one to have anyone around, anyone that I had to think about other than myself. I worked alone, lived alone, slept alone. All that changed when I decided that I needed to make Harmon Rabb pay for all of his interferences in my life, when I got him into that cell, and even when I let him go. He was on my mind, even more than he ever had been before. I scanned the footage, made sure he was eating and sleeping enough, made notes on what I was going to have to make sure he knew to do in the future.
And that was the problem. With Harm, I was thinking future. I'd never done anything like that before. The plan had been to take him, change him, make it stick, then amuse myself for some years sending him video clips, letting him worry about me sending them to his superiors, and on special occasions a present or two. A well-broken-in belt, the address of a bar that he'd like, maybe even the temptation of a willing and knowing man right there at his apartment if I felt like it. I'd been looking forward to the day when Harmon Rabb put his own desires in front of his country's requirements and his career and approached a man. And only then making sure it got out and watching him lose everything, because of me. But that wasn't going to be enough for me, not any more.
It took me a few days to decide just how I was going to handle this new sense of responsibility, this feeling of possession and interest. All right, I'd learned about the bond that could develop, and usually did, between the torturer and the victim. Now I was having to live with it, unless I was ready to give up on my plan. And that wasn't an option. So what was I going to do? Easy. I already had Rabb needing what I did. And I'd always planned to keep in touch, just not full-time. Well, that was going to change. Instead of making him into my thing, then cutting him loose, I was going to take over his whole life. He'd be mine completely when I had finished his training, so completely that he would walk into that JAG office, know where I was, and never even think about saying a word to betray me. He'd find out what I needed to know, and tell me, so that I could stay free, and with him. There was a certain justice about that.
*****
And so I was glad the night he went off to that bar. Told me that it was time for the next phase of Harmon Rabb's training to begin. And he and I had a little score to settle, by the name of Jordan. I'd watched that tape of the two of them just one time too many. The boy made a mistake, taking her to bed. I didn't like that he'd turned to a woman instead of waiting for me, even though the look on his face told me that he might have had his cock sunk in her wetness, but he was thinking of me. I needed to make him see that he was mine now. And I decided that I'd shake him up, show him that it didn't have to be hard with me. I knew just the place, a very small hotel that had the best soundproofing in the United States. And the best staff. I could have killed Harm in that room as he screamed for help, and all that would have happened is that the bill would have gone way, way up. It pays to know things like that. I'd gotten good information by paying those people, and now I was going to use their services to...seduce Harm. An amusing idea. But just in case he decided to be an idiot, I knew that there was no way in hell those people would help him. I was the one with the name on the credit card, and I made damn sure he had no money whatsoever.
It worked like a dream. I watched him drink that beer like the trusting guy he still was, waited for it to hit, and got him out of the bar. I admit that I had some serious thoughts about making him come in his pants when I had him drugged and interested, but I knew that it was only going to get better. And I knew that Harm had had enough beer to put himself out when the drug really hit his system. No, I decided to wait to get what I wanted. I'd waited this long. I could wait a little while longer. And the room I'd gotten at the hotel was expensive. I didn't want it to go to waste.
It was worth the wait. I came out of the shower and knew it was time to show my 'son' just how good it could be. I had him on the bed, hard, my lips taking his, and he was giving in, kissing me back, the sounds from his mouth the closest to begging I'd ever gotten from him without pain. He was mine. And he'd remember this when we got back to the other side of what he needed, the discipline, the orders, and the pain that told him I cared enough to make him behave. Remarkable that some guy hadn't seen this, but then I'd had to dig to figure it out, and Harm always did look and act like a ladies' man. Why would anyone even wonder? I had to push down the laugh at the thought of Harm dating now. Oh, Harm wasn't going to be chasing any ladies, not unless I told him to as part of his cover.
That was the first time he got down on his knees without me saying a damned word and opened his mouth for my cock. And I took my time getting off, the sight of his eyes open and on me almost better than the orgasm when it came. I'd waited a long time for this, for him. He just stayed on the floor and swallowed, then let me decide to pull him up against me. I held him in one arm while I pumped him with my other hand, enjoying the way his face softened and surrendered to the pleasure I was giving him. When he came, his mouth formed my name, and then he sagged and went out.
I'd expected that. I let him sleep, shooting him up with the sedative to be sure, then called for help to get him down to the car, a young bellboy who handled it with a fair amount of calm. I remembered to get Harm's clean clothes from the very obliging man at the desk, then tipped the bellboy, who had a look in his eyes that told me he was a little disappointed that I was taking the cute guy away. I gave him a smile with a promise in it, and, when we loaded Harm into the car, I told him to go ahead and do what he wanted with the limp body.
He was smart enough to keep his attentions to touching, and I promised myself that I'd see that he got more of my boy someday, if Harm was nice enough. It would be interesting to see Harm have to serve someone younger, and do it because I said so. Yes. We'd be back to this hotel. The boy gave me a quick, nervous look before he pulled out his shaft, and I nodded. He wanted to get off. Only natural. He jacked off into Harm's parted mouth, moaning and looking like he was going to finish there. I saw that he was close and pulled the boy back enough so that his spurt hit chest and not mouth. "No," I said softly. Harm's mouth was mine, and the bellboy, still smart, didn't protest. He thanked me and flicked a glance down to my pants, and I knew that all I had to do to get a blow job was to push my hips forward. I smiled and kept my body still. "Maybe next time."
"Thank you, sir," he murmured and handed me back my folded bills. My eyebrows went up. This was a first. His smile was quick. "You gave me a better tip than I usually get. Ask for me next time. I'm Ron. I'll be happy to help you and your friend."
"I will remember." I smiled at him again, but what I wanted was to get the hell out of there. I had more to do with Harm, and he needed it. I climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. Ron got the hint and headed back to work. My hand brushed against my erection, and I shrugged. The boy was probably good, but I knew my boy was better. After all, he'd learned on my cock, and he was mine.
*****
He liked the beating I gave him when he woke up, and the fucking. And the machine. Oh, he didn't *like* any of it, except for my cock up his ass, one of his favorite things by now, but there was the part of Harm that desperately needed to be punished, the part that knew he'd never, ever measure up to that daddy standard. And I was perfectly willing to play with that as long as it got me what I wanted. And I wanted to try things I'd only dreamed of, things that the DSD frowned on. And he was the perfect subject. Not that he had any choice in the matter.
The machine did the trick, getting him to say what I'd been waiting to hear, that he knew he needed what I had to offer. After that, I knew that there was no way in hell that Harmon Rabb was ever going to get free of me, unless I showed him how. And I wasn't going to do that. No, I got Harm back home the next morning, gave him his orders, and took off for the airport, with a smile every time I thought about him jacking off and thinking of me.
The next time I saw him, we'd see about the big test. And then I'd be in a position to pay off my debt to my patron, be a free man. And Harm was going to be my last payment. My patron had a thing for men. And Harm was just the kind he loved to get into his hands.
*****
Since he'd been a good boy while I was gone and broke with the psychiatrist, I let him have his little dinner fantasy, along with some action to make me feel good. I even ate his lasagna and smiled to myself at how happy that made him. I thought about getting him off, but I knew what was coming later, and it really wasn't going to help him at all if he lost his edge. I indulged myself with the dog game, but it really seemed to be something he'd be good at. I was looking forward to doing that one again, when we had more time. And better equipment. Harm would definitely look good in a collar. I made a mental note to get a nice thick leather one, if he performed as well as I needed him to.
I got him to Springer's with a stop to give him more of what he needed, both the hard act and the gentleness that broke him even more certainly. By the time we were going in the door he was ready for anything. Or so he thought. He had no idea of the hell I was leading him into.
I hated doing that, sharing him so soon, and especially with this man. I knew John's tastes better than most people: hell, I'd been where Harm was going, and I still had the scars from the beatings. And I'd gone willingly, with an idea of the price I was paying. A night with John Springer could get a new agent up from obscurity, and I was much more impatient then. After that night, I decided that patience was something to learn, especially as I cared for the welts and cuts that crossed my body. And I made sure that the next time I went, to watch, I had a knife. No one was getting me back on that rack. And I knew he wanted me there. His eyes begged me for years.
So I knew that a night with John Springer was going to be pain and torture for my boy, and not the kind he'd learned to get off on. John had suggested that it would be appropriate for me to drop him off and find somewhere else to be, but there was no way in hell I was going to do that. I might not get him back, or if I did, in the kind of condition that would make the hospital the necessary next stop. Or even the morgue. But there wasn't any other way. Harm had to know that he'd do anything if it was a something I wanted, and I had to get out from under John Springer's thumb. And John loved having me there, loved that I'd needed his help to get out of Leavenworth. As if he'd been the only one to do anything.
I didn't like having anyone thinking they had that kind of power over me. I'd done his jobs, remembered how much he'd helped me in the past, been properly respectful for all the work he promised me in the future, and never broke the seal on his dirty little secret. If he'd just been smart enough to realize that I was someone to be respected back, we wouldn't have any kind of trouble at all. But that wasn't something John was ready to do. He remembered me as a new agent, who'd needed his help, and somehow he'd never managed to figure out that I'd stopped being his protege a long time ago, that some years and missions had turned me into someone else.
Well, he'd get my boy for a night. And if he tried to pull any shit on me again, he was going to find out that underestimating me was a mistake no one made twice. Or, in John's case, much more than that.
*****
I knew that John was going to want to fuck him right away. He was so predictable that way now, not like he'd used to be. Then he had style, artistry, making each scene fit the man. And then I knew that it was going to be the basement, and Harm bound to the rack John had made himself. There were stains on it now, and I promised myself that the only ones Harm would contribute would be sweat. I'd seen John break skin and just smile as he laid on more strokes. And I knew that once he saw blood, he was out of reach, out of control. I'd been one of the ones who'd suffered for his pleasure. Harm wasn't going to have to go as far as I had.
John ran through his whole repertoire, working himself up from the plain whips and crops to the bullwhips, canes, and other insane items he'd collected over the years. I just watched as Harm's skin got more and more welted and bruised, and ran through everything I was going to have to do to get him back to normal by Monday. The list got fairly long, and I stopped even trying to pretend that I was having a good time. John wasn't paying attention to me, anyway. Too busy gloating over every damned mark he was putting on my boy's skin.
When John took out a box I'd never seen before and brought out a knife, I knew he'd lost it. I didn't waste time reasoning with him, just slipped out the syringe I'd hoped I wouldn't need and got it into his arm before he could do anything that insane to Harm. Then I got out another one and went over to give Harm some relief. And get him home.
I took a few moments to make sure that John Springer wouldn't be bothering me again, and enjoyed it more than I'd thought I would, making sure that there would be no question of the artistry of my work. Then I lifted Harm and went out of that house for the last time. There were going to be some interesting articles in the tabloids, and quite a few people breathing long sighs of relief. Too bad I couldn't find a way to get paid for this job. But it was personal. And long overdue.
*****
The next morning, Harm woke up hurting all over and confused, but I made sure to let him know that he'd done just fine, and he was happy after that. I couldn't do very much with him, but I knew there'd be other times for games, and he definitely was looking to me for comfort. That was something.
He asked me what had happened, and I could tell that he really didn't remember much after he'd been put on the rack. I told him some of the truth, that John had gone out of control, and I'd gotten him out of there before he had to suffer for it.
He looked down. "Will I be going back?"
And I could hear what he wasn't saying: for the rest of the night. For whatever you both want to do to me. I was glad to know he'd obey, but that wasn't going to be necessary.
"If you'd like to attend the funeral, I don't think anyone would mind," I said very casually, and saw the startled smile on his face before he wiped it away.
That was payment enough for me. And the subject never came up again. He never even asked me if I'd done it. Harm was smart enough to know how I worked, and I'm sure that the circumstances of John Springer's death, his naked and beaten body tied to a rack in his basement, told him more than enough to know that I'd taken my own revenge on him.
*****
Things fell very much into place after that. I liked having a pet. He was at least as intelligent as any dog I'd known, and he had enough to keep him busy when I had to be away. Oh, of course I had to. I hadn't gotten out of jail to sit around at a desk. And my talents were in demand.
I knew that there was always a chance I'd get tired of this game, and I had plans ready for that, although quite honestly I didn't see it happening any time soon. This life and Harm suited me. I liked it. And the only way that was going to change, was if I said so.
The End
Posted 8/22/00
