Dooku's usual shift at the restaurant was from late afternoon until closing time, and most mornings he was asleep until 9 or 10 AM, which gave him a few hours before he had to go into work. When he and Maglor woke with the alarm at 9 AM, they skipped their usual morning lovemaking to check on their guest.
Sören was asleep - Dooku knew that Sören had not fallen asleep until late, laying awake several hours on the couch-bed, panicked, ashamed, hurt, grieving, worried about the future. He was loath to wake the young man, who looked even more beautiful curled up, long lashes framing his cheeks, Dragos purring away beside him as if he were keeping watch over his new friend. But Sören was apparently a light sleeper - no doubt from trauma - and as soon as he heard Dooku and Maglor's footsteps in the living room he jolted awake with a gasp. He looked around with pure terror on his face, as it took him a moment to realize where he was.
"Sören, it's all right," Maglor said in that smooth voice of his that made Dooku melt a little, even as strange as it was to hear him fake an American accent.
"Would you like tea? Breakfast?" Dooku cocked his head to one side.
Sören rubbed his face, his beard, ran a nervous hand through his curls. "Jesus, what time is it..."
"Five past nine AM. Do you have anywhere you need to be? Work...?"
"Not today." Sören looked up at Dooku finally. "Tea is fine, and if you're making breakfast I'll have whatever you're having, otherwise I don't want you to have to go all out for me..."
Dooku pursed his lips, wanting to shake Sören and tell him to quit apologizing when he'd been the one to offer, but just from what little he'd seen last night he could tell Justin had likely hard-wired the need to constantly apologize merely for existing, and probably not just him, too. "I'll get started on breakfast," Dooku said.
Maglor got changed, and when breakfast was almost ready, Maglor handled the end of it while Dooku got changed himself. When he came out Sören was in the same outfit he'd worn last night and was folding the couch bed back up.
Tea was served in the kitchen-dining area, with a full English breakfast. It wasn't fancy, but Sören was still impressed, and that and his slim figure suggested to Dooku there was a time where he hadn't been eating well at all.
Sören offered to do the dishes and Dooku and Maglor both gave a firm "NO" in unison.
"You're a guest," Dooku scolded.
"I've eaten your food... drank your water, slept on your couch, I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage..."
"Sören. Sit down. Relax. Let us take care of things. And when we're finished, then we want to have a talk with you." Dooku looked at Maglor, and made the come with me gesture as Sören waited in the living room.
The dishes weren't a two-man job, one of them could rinse and load the dishwasher by themselves, but Maglor knew why Dooku wanted the few moments alone.
You're thinking about letting him stay with us for a bit, aren't you? Maglor spoke into Dooku's mind.
Dooku nodded as he handed a rinsed dish over for Maglor to put in the washer. He can't go back to that...
Orc. Maglor made a face.
Yes. That monster calling itself Justin. I won't stand for it. Dooku put a hand on Maglor's arm. I hope you don't mind.
We're on the same page - I would have asked you myself to let him stay at least for awhile. He's a good kid. Their eyes met. You can just tell, sometimes.
Sören was sitting on the armchair, and Dooku and Maglor sat on the couch. Dragos hopped up between them and settled down for pettings. After a moment that was just Dragos purring, Dooku and Maglor looked at each other to decide who would speak first, and when Maglor raised an eyebrow, Dooku said, "Right," and turned to Sören.
"Have you given any thought as to what you're going to do now?" Dooku asked.
Sören frowned. "I have no place to go, and I can't afford to rent a new apartment with the hours I work now and the money I have in the bank. And I mean, Justin and I could work things out -"
"NO." Maglor didn't raise his voice, but it still rang out. Maglor looked a little sheepish at his own vehemence, and then cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "You are not going back to him. He was abusing you."
Sören looked down and shrugged. "I deserve it -"
"What? No." Maglor's voice was stern. "Sören, think of your closest friend. If they were in the same position as you right now, would you tell them they deserve any of this? Would you tell them to go back and 'work it out'? Or would you -"
Sören started to cry. He used the Force to pull over the box of tissues from the coffee table and choked out, "Frankie," as he sobbed into a wad of Kleenex.
Maglor sighed. So did Dooku. Dooku didn't know what happened, exactly - in his mind's eye he saw a girl in the hospital, a series of plastic tubes... probably what prompted Sören to cry thinking about her last night. He was curious but now was not the time to probe. He took his turn to speak. "Sören, we would strongly prefer that you not return to Justin. You may think you deserve it, but you don't. His abuse brainwashed you."
"Where else will I go?" Sören sobbed. "I don't have any money..."
"Mark and I were talking, and it would be fine with us if you stay here for awhile," Dooku said. "We can help you get back on your feet."
Sören sobbed harder. "I don't want to burden you guys..."
"We're offering, dear. We wouldn't offer if it was going to burden us." Dooku reached out to take Sören's hand, then.
Sören continued crying, and they let him cry, and finally Maglor spoke, an attempt to soothe Sören with the power of his voice. "Please, Sören. We'd like you to stay for awhile. You've been through a lot."
Sören started to calm down gradually, and when he was still teary but not a total mess, Maglor added another, "Please. We want to help you."
Sören gave them a wary look. "What are the strings attached?"
Maglor's eyebrows shot up. He thinks we expect him to...
Yes, I know. Dooku frowned. While he found Sören delicious, and the thought of he and Maglor making love to him together made him a bit randy - enough that he quickly batted that thought away, not wanting Sören to pick up with the Force and be alarmed by it - Sören had been badly hurt and he didn't want Sören to feel like he had to go to bed with them to "earn his keep". That's going to be off the table for some time. The barrister in him then marveled privately that implies there's an "on the table" with sex somewhere, and he was indeed surprised by his reaction to the younger man.
"There are no strings," Dooku said, turning his attention back to putting Sören at ease. He meant it. He genuinely wanted to help, whether or not Sören would ever be interested in the two of them. "You can sleep here on the couch. We only ask that you abide by some house rules. No parties, no narcotics..."
Sören looked almost offended. "...I don't..."
"And no Justin." Maglor glared, his tone gentle but firm. "When we say we don't want you going back to him, we don't just mean to live. We don't want him coming here, and we don't want you going to see him, we don't want you in contact with him. You need to burn that bridge. We don't want that kind of chaos under our roof - we don't want to deal with the police, as we invariably will have to if he's around - and as importantly, it's for your own good as well."
"However, that said." Dooku looked at Maglor, who gave a small nod, knowing what he was about to say, and then he looked back at Sören. "You said you live with Justin so you have things over at his place, I assume?"
Sören cringed. "Jæja. It's not a lot of stuff, but I've been worrying about it..."
"We'll take you to get your things," Dooku said.
Maglor nodded. "Both of us. We want you to have backup in case he's there..."
"If we go now, he shouldn't be. He's got a very predictable routine and he should be gone till one, at least. Training, conditioning." Sören frowned again.
"That explains the right hook." Maglor gingerly rubbed his solar plexus; Dooku had seen the bruise and Maglor did not bruise easily at all. "Is he some kind of athlete?"
"He's a footballer, plays for FC Arsenal. So he's very physical, to keep in shape... does some stuff like kickboxing..."
No doubt, has practiced kickboxing on you. Dooku felt that surge of rage in him, rising up again, hair standing on end the way it did when a storm was approaching... just before the lightning storm that had flown out of his fingers last night. "Well, I suppose if he's going to not be there it's for the best we go now to get your things."Because I don't want to be tempted to kill him if I see his wretched face again. He got another chill, thinking of those blue eyes and the way something felt "off" about Justin before he ever opened his mouth.
_
Justin Roberts lived in a flat in a high-rise building on the East End of London. It was neither a cheap place to live nor was it insanely posh. Sören confirmed as they parked in guest parking and made their way past Justin's usual parking stall that his vehicle wasn't there.
The concierge nodded at Sören on his way in, and Sören led them to the elevator, which was done in dark wood paneling and a rich Oriental rug. Sören was starting to shake in the elevator, and Dooku put a hand on his shoulder.
"He's not here. It'll be all right. Even if he was..." Dooku snorted. "We'll protect you." Beating Justin within an inch of his life last night had been satisfying. Indeed, Dooku felt almost like his entire body was screaming let's do it again, out for blood with this...
"It's not that." Sören closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, but still obviously on edge. "I get claustrophobic in elevators." He cringed hard. "He made fun of me..."
"Of course he did, the rotten little shit." Dooku realized he'd said that aloud, and Sören's eyes flew open, giving him a surprised look. Dooku cleared his throat and patted Sören's shoulder. "My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. Anyway, you didn't choose to have a phobia, he shouldn't be making fun of you about it..."
The elevator chimed on the ninth floor. They got out, and, shaking harder, Sören led them down the hall to the fourth door. He pulled the keys from his pocket but before he could open the door, Maglor gently pushed Sören aside and said, "Allow me." On the odd chance he's faking being gone so he can ambush him...
When Maglor opened the door and stepped inside, he gasped. "What in the Hells..."
Dooku pushed forward to see, and then Sören pushed between them, and as soon as he saw it he let out a whimper, like a cowering dog.
The living room was a disaster. Furniture overturned. Lamp broken. Glass-top coffee table smashed, glass all over the living room carpet. Even after having been in a brawl and literally struck by lightning, Justin had been feeling enough of a violent adrenaline surge to go on a destructive rampage, and it gave Dooku chills and a sick feeling, wondering what kind of horrific abuse Sören had been dealing with if the man was capable of that.
Sören went right to the bedroom and then Maglor and Dooku heard a scream, followed by a long sob. They rushed in, in case it was Justin lying in wait...
...it was somehow almost worse. There was clothing on the floor, some of it ripped and cut to shreds, other pieces with chemicals dumped all over it, making bleach stains and a vile, putrid smell.
There were broken paintbrushes scattered all over the floor, paint tubes cut open with gobs of paint poured over yet more clothing, and towels. There were canvases - some had been hacked to pieces, others had bleach and other chemicals poured over them, though bits and pieces showed through and Dooku saw that the art had once been beautiful, not "shitty" at all as Justin had called it. But they were all ruined beyond repair, and Sören fell to his knees, wracked with sobs at the destruction of his artwork. Paper sketches and watercolors and pastel pieces had been ripped apart. One canvas was in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, leaning against the cabinet under the sink, and Dooku saw this had been defecated on.
"Fucking Hells." There were tears in Maglor's eyes, he was shaking with anger. Dooku felt as angry as Maglor looked, suddenly wishing Justin were here so he could, in fact, kill him, consequences be damned -
Sören let out another screaming sob and collapsed on the floor, and it was then that Dooku saw insult to injury - a few plush toys, all with the stuffing ripped out of them, all decapitated.
"My..." Sören started to have a coughing fit. He was shaking from head to toe, laying on the floor as if he were prostrate before a god who had forsaken him, was punishing him in some way. "My mamma gave me... that bunny... and it's the only thing I have of her, she gave me that before she died when I was fi-i-i-ive..." He fell apart, coughing, sobbing.
The blue bunny was the thing that finally made Dooku cry. He picked it up to see if there was anything he could do, perhaps stitch it back up, but Justin had done the worst job on that, as if he knew its importance to Sören, of course he did, that's why... Dooku let the corpse of the stuffed animal drop to the floor, his fingers sparking as he did. The room was suddenly very hot, like they were standing around a reactor.
"That piece of shit." Maglor's voice was a growl. "That fucking filth..."
Sören folded his head in his arms on the floor, still continuing to sob, and cough. The coughing got bad enough he had to pull out his inhaler again, and when he did, Maglor dropped to his knees beside Sören, gently rubbing his back. Dooku saw the tears silently flowing down Maglor's face and when their eyes met, Maglor closed his. Maglor was feeling Sören's pain, he knew, and his own rage at what had happened, as if he had witnessed some kind of blasphemy.
Dooku was the calm in the eye of the storm. "All right." He took a deep breath. "Sören, is this all your things...?"
"I have a safe box that has things like my passport and ID paperwork in it, hopefully he didn't get at it. I'm the only one with the key." Sören used the Force to lift up his keyring.
"Where is the box?"
"Kitchen. Cupboard above the stove, near some baking sheets... Justin doesn't touch any of that stuff. I hope to god he didn't find the box and throw it out or something because otherwise I'm fucked..."
Dooku used the Force to pull the keyring out of Sören's hand. He walked out of the bedroom, stepping over upended furniture and broken glass. Justin had done a number in the kitchen too, with the silverware drawer ripped out and silverware all over the floor, dishes and glasses in pieces with more broken glass and ceramic everywhere. The cupboard above the stove was high enough that Sören would have to use a stool to get up there; Dooku used the Force to open it and saw the black metal box resting against a cookie sheet and muffin tin. He waved his hand and the box flew down into his waiting hands. With the box in his hands he came back into the bedroom where Maglor had gotten Sören to sit up and was gently rocking him.
"I have it," Dooku said. "We can go now."
Sören sobbed again, and Maglor pulled him to his feet. Maglor gently led Sören out of the flat, with Dooku using the keyring to lock up behind them - not so much that he gave a damn about anyone walking in, but he didn't necessarily want Justin to know they'd been there.
Sören attempted to pull himself together on the way out of the building, to not arouse suspicion in the concierge, and once he was in the back seat of the Jaguar he buried his face in his hands, doubling over as sobs racked him, howling and whimpering into his hands.
"I have nothing. I have no money to replace anything..."
"We'll buy you clothes," Dooku said.
"I don't want you to have to spend money on me. You don't even know me -"
"Money doesn't exactly grow on trees, you know." Dooku gave Sören a look over his shoulder.
Sören took his face out of his hands and scowled. "I know. It's why I don't want you to have to -"
Dooku saw that attempt at reasoning with him was failing. He pinched the bridge of his nose before returning his focus to the road. "Look, Sören. I was raised Orthodox, and there's a certain story about a shepherd who let a traveling woman give birth in his manger, and that baby boy grew up and taught others the importance of kindness - generosity, compassion. It's something that stayed with me, even when my faith has not. But for a twist or turn of fate, or luck, we could all be down and out, destitute, especially in these times when the gap between rich and poor seems to be ever widening. I don't think our paths crossed by accident, or by coincidence. You have two people right here who want to be kind to you for awhile, you sure don't seem to have had much kindness in your life lately. The fact of the matter is, you are not going to be able to get back on your feet without basic essentials like clothing, if all you own is what you have on your back right now and you don't have money for more. So at the very least, let us buy you some clothes."
"He's right, you know." Maglor was, strangely, trying to restrain a smile.
Dooku poked him with just the Force, not touching him. Don't even tell me I'm being a lawyer again, arguing with him.
It's not that. It's... the Jesus story. Maglor looked out the window. A very long time ago, two thousand years give or take, I was traveling in Rome and working as a carpenter to try to blend in. I fed a group of people with a small amount of lembas. I also got angry enough with moneychangers taking advantage of the poor, to overthrow their tables. A friend saw my ears and reported me for a reward of silver, and I just narrowly escaped crucifixion. I'm a bit surprised that...
You're... no. Dooku facepalmed. You're Jesus?
Not all of the Christ story is based on my time in Rome, it seems to be a composite of that and other outlaws as well as mythologies from the area and its neighbors, but apparently... I had a bit of a reputation, and it survived. Amazing.
Sören's voice cut into their private conversation. "At the very least, when I... get back on my feet... let me pay you back. I don't want to accept something for nothing -"
Dooku wasn't happy with that, he wanted to be able to give the young man something, and he and Maglor were well-off enough that they could easily afford it, but he understood now - feeling it in the Force - that Sören's pride was being injured with this, not wanting to be seen as "charity". And indeed, his pride had been injured many times by Justin. Letting himself feel like he wasn't "taking advantage" - even though Dooku absolutely would not feel Sören was even if he was never paid back - was perhaps part of Sören's needed recovery as well. "All right."
"And if I'm going to stay with you for a bit, till I get my own place, I want to pay rent -"
"If you're going to get your own place you're going to need money and if you don't even have the money to replace your wardrobe you don't have that, so don't worry about rent right now - work on saving up and rebuilding, and we can talk about rent when you're in a better position than you are now." Maglor looked over at Sören.
Sören sighed. "I'm sorry."
"You..." Maglor glared. "Please. Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."
Sören started crying again. Then he really started crying as he choked out, "My bunny. Mamma..." And sobbing, ashamed of himself. "God. I'm thirty-one crying over a stuffed rabbit and my mother... fucking pathetic..."
"Sweetheart..." Sweetheart. Really. Dooku couldn't believe himself. "You're not pathetic. You have been through hell. I don't even know the whole story but what I know is bad enough." And I imagine I will learn more of it as the days unfold. That was going to be a special kind of pain. And rage. "What that... damned..."
"Filth," Maglor supplied.
"Despicable pulă... bucată de rahat, fiu de târfă..." Dooku's knuckles were white on the steering wheel and he was driving just a little faster. Not too fast now, we don't need trouble with the police. "He's pathetic, Sören. Not you."
Sören sniffled. "I wish I could believe you."
I wish you could, too.
They took Sören to a retail outlet before they went home. Sören pulled himself together enough to pick out some shirts and trousers and jeans and underwear and socks. Dooku and Maglor also bought him a Sterilite bin for clothing storage in the living room, though Dooku lamented not having a proper dresser, he deserves something better than keeping his clothing in a fucking bin.
"Will you be all right while we're at work this evening?" Dooku asked as Maglor got ready to head to the record shop, and Maglor gave Sören a concerned look too.
Sören nodded. "I think I'll just try to chill, watch telly."
Dooku frowned. "We have a night off tomorrow, maybe we can play a game, watch a movie, or take you to get some new art supplies..."
Sören looked down. "I haven't been able to paint in a few months. It's... a block, I guess."
A block from being told your art is "shitty", most likely. Dooku remembered the destroyed artwork, the glimpses of beauty he'd seen in the ruins. What it must have looked like before Justin ravaged it... Dooku shuddered, feeling that hot surge of rage again. "We'd still like to..."
Sören sighed. He didn't say drop it but that's still what Dooku heard in his mind.
Maglor left - Dooku could tell he wanted to give Sören a hug, but didn't, worried he might provoke anxiety with physical contact. Dooku and Maglor stole a kiss, and Dooku noticed Sören watching them with sadness in his eyes. Soon after Maglor left, Dooku also had to go to work, and the entire time he was there, he kept worrying that he'd come back and find Sören gone, returned to Justin. Maglor came by Doi Capaci when the record shop was closed for the evening to wait for Dooku's shift to end - having his usual free evening meal - and when he and Dooku rode home together Dooku could feel the anxiety in him as well.
Anxiety and rage. Maglor wanted to go back to the flat and kill Justin, Dooku knew that.
Their first concern was Sören. They mutually breathed a sigh of relief when they came in and found Sören on the couch bed, dozed off. He looked precious and innocent with a blanket, and Dooku's heart broke remembering the bunny Sören had cried for, a mental image of Sören sleeping with it at night, cuddling it when upset, no wonder he couldn't sleep last night, and Sören had just passed out early tonight from exhaustion.
Poor kid. Maglor frowned.
Yes. Dooku nodded. He's had such a rough time of it. And he's going to have a rough time out of it, recovering.
Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell, leads up to light. Maglor was quoting Milton.
At least he won't have to walk it alone. Dooku took Maglor's hand, and squeezed.