Summary:Beau Sarte has a bad day, but he finds out a few things about himself. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Usually, muggers have some standards. They're not going to knock a guy out of his wheelchair and try to slice him up. They rarely stay to stab after they get the wallet. Most muggers just want the cash with no fuss, no muss, man. So yeah, these guys probably aren't muggers.
Maybe they saw Beau at Pride and remembered him because of the chair. Maybe they're just sick bastards. Whoever they are, they strike fast and without mercy. They catch him in the park at night, within view of his apartment, even. They're quiet, coming up from behind, and there's maybe three? It's hard to tell because everything is a blur once they shove the chair over pouring Beau out of it, and they descend. One has a knife. One has a baseball bat. One has a broken bottle. They lay into him with brutal efficiency.
"Hold him," the one with the knife tells the one with the baseball bat. They don't talk to Beau. They don't lend him that much humanity.
Hell, maybe they hate mutants.
Beau was never a fighter. Not before, not not. He heard one step up but didn't have enough time to brace for his fall. He's faceplanted on the ground until they start laying into him. He knows to protects his head and neck and that is what he does. He covers the back of his neck and head with his hands. "Help!" He calls out. "Someone! I'm getting my ass kicked!" He manages to holler out before ducking another blow.
It was such a nice day too. The Pride Parade was a blast. He didn't go all out. Just a few rainbow streamers on his chair. He had facepaint but that's long gone. His beloved Pride Nikes and a white tanktop bearing with the words: Love Wins, which each letter bearing the flag colors of a different group. That was it. All there was. And well, his backpack is already decorated with various themed patches. From Pride to Mutants to Science. All of that is, indeed there.
But he isn't wondering why, just yet. He need to survive this. Even with his abilities, he's still envisioning himself tied to a fence somewhere. He only barely notices that a blow from a baseball bat is not as painful as he would think. Nothing really is. He tries to crawl away before one is instructed to hold him. "Stop, hey, hey—please stop." He pleads.
Kai went all out today, too. He was just so happy. He was full of history about just how far queer people have come, and he was actually teary-eyed about it. Of course he sets off gaydar on Jupiter any day of the week, but he was resplendent in airbrushed rainbow makeup and a pink cropped top that read 'my boyfriend doesn't know i'm gay.' He was flirty and adorable and Beau got some jealous looks.
The heat of the day still lingers in the air, though cool breezes are blowing through now. Memories of the day swept clean in the crisp coldness.
"Shut him up," says the guy with the knife. He seems to be in charge. The guy with the bat jams a rag in Beau's mouth. It's got to be him because the guy with the broken bottle has just sliced away a portion of Beau's kidney with a jab and twist.
Up on the balcony, Kai's enjoying the cool breeze, but he freezes. He knows that voice. He knows the tone, too. He rushes into the apartment, comes back out, and hurls… something.
A few seconds later, a familiar rock hits knife guy in the eye. They're literally a stone's throw from the apartment.
"Ow, fuck!" Knife guy is stunned for just a little bit. On the balcony, Kai disappears again.
The rag in Beau's mouth comes as surprise. This is really bad. This is very, very bad. The pain of the broken bottle get screamed into that rag. His vision isn't the clearest, blurry and dazed but he does see /that rock/ skitter in front of him. Knife guy is stunned long enough for Beau to reach for him best mineral from hell and throw it back at bottle guy. For his kidney. The remaining moments that the attackers are stunned and surprised, Beau looks for his phone. He doesn't pocket it normally. He tends to have a pocket on his pants leg, in a subtle cargo style. So he's scrambling for that as the pain is making everything kinda hazy. He knows time is critical, even for him. His healing factor isn't /that/ strong. Too many, too fast and he's a goner.
The guy with the broken bottle hisses as the rock bounces off his forehead. Baseball bat guy mutters, "Oh no, you don't." The first anyone has even spoken to Beau, and he slides the bat against his throat, getting him in a choke hold with it.
Things are in fact really bad, but the location couldn't be better, because fleet footsteps come running up the path, and with a cry out outrage, and blond, curly-headed blur grabs knife guy and throws him. Just fucking throws him, like, twenty feet until he hits a tree with a crunch.
Broken bottle guy yanks the glass out of Beau's body and turns to wield it on the pink-clad attacker. There's a slash, and a snarl of fury, and a punch to the face that causes bottle guy's head to snap back violently, and down he goes.
Baseball bat guy decides to double down and choke harder.
Kai stands there, chest heaving, and without a word, he touches his fingertips to a pendant he usually wears, fasioned to look like a crescent moon. The pendant detaches and unfurls into his hands as a pair of gleaming, wicked looking knives. Must be some weird magic.
Beau is losing air. Not that he hasn't been fighting with all he's got since a bat met his throat. He claws at him, thinking only about evidence and DNA and whatever the cops will need to find these people. He doesn't quite see Kai's arrival. He hears the new commotion but his vision is dimming. He can almost hear his Auntie. 'Don't drown. Don't choke. Keep breathing and you will live, cher.' Is this how it really ends? A bashing on Pride. His air starved brain can't help but to think about how sensational this murder will be. Almost sad he'll miss the trial.
Just as the light is dimming for real, the blond-headed blur lunges. Slash, slash. The baseball bat guy howls in pain and releases the bat. Beau can breathe again, and he's got the bastard's skin and blood under his nails from scratching at him.
The oppressive presence of the baseball bat guy, looming over Beau, is remedied by a kick to his chin that sends him reeling.
Then there is a clatter of knives, and gentle hands Beau knows well are gathering him close. "Oh, no. No, no, no, let me look at you."
"I'm here." Beau whispers before launching into a coughing and gasping fit. He's a mess but not quite as messy as one might imagine. As he sits there, catching his breath, there are little cuts and scraps closing up before Kai's eyes. Bruises are vivid. Too vivid to be as fresh as the blows are and they are actually changing colors, looking a little different each time one looks. He's shaking, shocked and scared. "I probably need to go to the hospital. He got me good in the back. Kidney, most likely, needs repair. He finally looks at Kai, square in the eye. One eye is badly bloodshot, the red covering the white. But as Beau begins to speak, his eye is clearing up. "Thank you for hearing me. I just wanted churros and they snuck up on me." He winches in pain. "That's the factor. Ooow, fuck. Hospital. I gotta—I gotta be seen for my back."
If Kai is brave enough to look, he'll find a bloody hole in his shirt, a pile of glass, laying in a little pool of blood and bruised and battered but completely intact flesh.
Kai exhales a pent up breath as he sees the wounds starting to close. "You're as hale as an Asgardian," he says. His proper English comes to the fore when he's stressed, and his language becomes a little more archaic. It gets that way when he's mad, too. "Very well, let's get you to the hospital."
His urge is to gather Beau in his arms and run off with him, but the ambulance will be quicker, so he takes out his phone and dials. Ever so calm and ever so collected as he explains what has happened. They want to keep him on the phone while the ambulance comes, so he balances it on his shoulders as best he can as he cleans his knives on his jeans and folds them into a pendant again (seriously that's some weird-ass techno-magic right there).
"They're on their way," he murmurs, and he strokes Beau's hair, kneeling so that his lap can make a pillow for the man.
And Beau takes that opportunity to lean on Kai. "That's never happened to me before. Why?" He whimpers. He groans in pain. "I'm too old for this shit. I just want to live." And living is what his body has taken over doing. You can't find a wound on him. Only blood stains where they were. The more battered bits are yellowing already. Beau is far too upset to notice. If nothing else, Kai will notice something else about his eyes. His crows feet, or, rather the total lack thereof. His face is smoother, less lined with worry and stress. Like someone shaved enough years to push him back to his late 20s, maybe. Hell, his hair is brighter. The dulling and darkening of blond hair that can come with age is replaces with the more notable shine. And his hands. Bloody from his counterattack, he still clings to Kai and they have never been softer.
Kai tilts his head and says, "You don't look too old." He knows those crows feet, and every line and shadow of Beau's face. "You look younger, darling, and there isn't a cut on you." All of this is said with dawning relief. "You're healing so quickly."
For a moment, he's just lost gazing into Beau's younger-seeming eyes, marveling at him. Then baseball bat guy groans and Kai fixes him with a look that is nothing short of murderous.
Around then, the sirens can be heard, and Kai tells the person on the phone, "I can hear them. He's doing all right, yes."
One ambulance and two cops cars. The assailants are still either out cold or too groggy to move much. Truth be told, they're probably lucky to be alive.
"I look younger?" Beau says, "I'm healing quickly? Quicker?" He reaches around, carefully, to the kidney blow and when his hand touches the intact skin, he startles. "Oh shit. Oh shit. It's happening. It's…it's…oh, fuck. Fuck." He begins to hyperventilate as the EMTs come to check him out.
And as it turns out, all he needs is some oxygen and something to calm his nerves. He winds up just sitting at the back of the ambulance, in his chair, with a mask on as he the cops take his statement. None of the authorities think too much of a super self healing mutant but they have to assure him that what happened is still a crime, despite the fact that his body is mostly fine. He still has to sign the papers to refuse care but no one seems surprised or concerned. Especially since Beau's a doctor. That ambulance winds up taking one of the assailants and the pair are sent home, since Beau lives across the street and the area's a crime scene.
On the elevator ride up, Beau checks his pockets, looking for his phone. He finds a rock instead.
Kai has a lingering distrust of cops left over from the sixties, but he's technically a diplomat, and he's got his papers that explain who he is. He assures everyone that he doesn't have a scratch (and didn't before), and he gives his statement quite candidly, to be honest. Why, yes, he did throw knife guy twenty feet into a tree. Why yes, he did cut up baseball guy. The cops don't know what the hell Alfheim is, but they understand 'ask at the Asgardian Embassy.'
But it's all over soon enough, and on the elevator, Kai glances at him, sees the rock, and smiles. "I guess it didn't want to be left on the street," he says. He strokes Beau's hair. "You really do look younger."
A compliment to one person is something else entirely to Beau. "I want to call my Auntie but I know what she'll say. She didn't prep me for this but she…she warned." When the elevator stops, he heads into his apartment and as soon as the door is closed, he just breaks down. A shaking, crying, balled tight kind of break down in the middle of the foyer. Words are failing him. His breathing is quick but somewhat controlled. Mostly, he just weeps in his trembling, bloody hands. A smart officer took the scrapings from under his nails but suddenly, he spins towards the kitchen because this blood has to come off. Like his shirt, which ends up in a ball on the kitchen table. This sink is large and lowered for him. He turns on the water and grabs the soap as he waits for the water to heat up to something close to boiling. He's still crying, so to speak. Tears keep coming despite his best efforts.
"You can call her if you want," Kai says. Once they're inside, he lays a hand on Beau's shoulder and squeezes gently. No shushing, no attempts to quiet him down. Sometimes a man just needs to get it out. When Beau goes into the kitchen, Kai follows. The balled up shirt disappears and will never be seen again. A towel appears on the counter beside the sink, and he says, "I'll run you a proper bath, if you like." He remains calm and nearby, poised to act.
"I'll get in the shower in a little bit." Beau says, shakily. He scrubs his hands now though with a surgeon's technique. And something about this makes a sob escape. "I didn't think I missed practice." He mutters. "I have plenty of time now. Lots of time. Kai? Can you bring me a mirror? Should be one in a bathroom somewhere. I was an old fuck when we went out. I don't feel like that anymore." Hands clean, scrubbed pink, he gags and then vomits into the sink. "How did I manage to get out of the South without getting my ass kicked? I come up here and…" And more dry heaving follows.
Kai is only gone a moment, and when Beau is vomiting, Kai is back and stroking his hair. Then there is a glass of water beside him to rinse out his mouth, if he wants. The mirror is presented. "I should have killed them," he says quietly. "A warrior would have killed them. But all I could think was 'I don't want him to have that on his conscience.'" Besides, Kai just isn't a killer. That isn't to say he hasn't killed, but look at him. He's a squish. Who threw a guy twenty feet into a tree.
He gently rubs between Beau's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. This should have never happened to you."
Beau rinses out his mouth, giving Kai a grateful look. "You did the right thing. I don't know how you diplomatic status works here but I can't have anyone running you off…this plane or whatever." He takes a hold of the mirror and looks without hesitation. He looks at it, blinking a few times. "I look a lot like I did when I graduated Med School. Residency aged me, they say. I mean, I wasn't gray or balding but I was aging and…" He puts the mirror down and sighs. "Auntie said that you take a few steps back and then you stop." He looks at himself. He's battered and bruised and he moves gingerly, like he hurts, but his skin is unbroken. Smooth and soft beneath the stains and contusions. "I think I've stopped." He clears his throat. "I've stopped Kai. You step back. Your body heals so quickly that…you stop. Stop aging. Or slow down. But…Auntie won't tell me how old she really is so…" He takes a deep breath. "You're stuck with me, Kai." He says, very softly.
Kai wraps his arms around Beau's shoulders and murmurs, "Good." He manages to be so calm outwardly, but up close like this, he's trembling with excitement, relief. He won't have to watch his mortal lover grow old and die. At least not for a long, long time. "I love you," he whispers, "and I will rebuild the entire manor around your chair if I must, so that you can be at home on Alfheim as you are here." He's already thinking ten, twenty, fifty years into the future, and it's no longer heartbreaking.
And Beau starts crying again. He covers his face and trembles. "I have a lot to think about here. I-I'll call my Auntie in the morning and…figure out what is happening to me." He sniffles. "I'm really sore. I pay for the healing by hurting. I don't know if it's my tolerance being low or…could you give me a hand in the shower? No dirty. I just need help cleaning up." He sniffs. "I love you too. My hero. I don't know what was going to happen to me out there. I don't even know why. I…I just want all this blood off me."
"Some people out there are just animals dressed like human beings," Kai says. He's usually the one bearing the brunt of the homophobes and creeps, and his tone is just tired and sad. "Except that's an insult to animals." He kisses Beau's cheek. "Do you mind if I carry you?" he asks. He's not going to just grab Beau and walk into the bathroom with him. "After the shower, I'll make some coffee and maybe popcorn, and we can curl up on the couch and zone out for awhile. Does that suond good?"
"I…I don't know. Maybe because I pass easier?" Beau shrugs, helplessly. "It's funny how I easily survived that but I still can't walk. Just…funny how it works." He lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, carry me. I'm shaky and sore…if this is a long haul thing. You're gonna have to carry me now and again." He sniffles and wipes his nose. "I did have a great first Pride. I won't let those weirdos fuck that up. I have a long road ahead so I better, uh, get used to letting shit just roll off my back."