White Sheets - 3. Old Pain

Slowly, the reddish-brown stain faded.

With the shoulder Remy wiped some sweat from his face while he dripped more bleach on the stain and then continued scrubbing. Neither the sheet was his, nor the blood on it- whereas he was truly grateful for the latter- but that didn't change the intensity with which he worked. As long as he was in this household, no one would have to sleep on a sheet with old blood on it, not even Joy, who had managed to make herself unpopular in less than forty-eight hours.

The brush slipped from his gloved fingers and he took that as a sign to rinse the sheet. The stain was still there.

"Great Mother, what did the first women do to you to punish them with monthly bleeding?" he murmured, dunking the sheet again into the bleach-infused water. "If it was supposed to teach them modesty, it kind of backfired. Because now they're bleeding us." This was the kind of soliloquy he'd been doing for many years over and over again, even though slave blood practically never stained the sheets at Harlaney House.

A sigh behind him made him wince, water splashed on his arms and shirt.

"I don't think the sheet has anything to do with your frustration."

"Cain! Do you have to sneak up on me like that?" He half-turned and looked up at Cain, who in turn looked down at him critically.

"I'm not sneaking, Remy, you're just absorbed in your strange prayers. Whatever. I wanted to remind you that you wanted to help me with dessert."

Remy bit his lip and nodded, but then pointed to the wash tub in front of him with a dripping glove. "I'm not done here yet."

"I can see that..." Cain drawled in return, and Remy watched his gaze slide over the collection of tubs, vats, and buckets. He sighed again. "Just remember that your fabulous fruit sauce doesn't make itself alone."

"Yes, Cain." Remy lowered his eyes to the work in front of him.

"Don't take that tone with me."

Remy nodded silently and waited until Cain was gone before turning back to the sheet. He might have a knack for desserts, but sheets were something he'd been scrubbing since he could remember- with slight bitterness, he could call himself a master at it.

The third sheet of the day shimmered bluish in the sunlight as Remy smoothed it out on the clothesline. Now the sun-active bleach and the light would do their work, and tomorrow he could see to what extent he had done well; for the moment the stains seemed to have disappeared, but in the dry state it might look different.

A tender spark of satisfaction glowed in his chest. He put his gloves back on and had just soaked the fourth sheet in the vat when Mistress Ellen stepped out the side door.

"Remy..."

"Yes, Mistress?" He looked up and registered with horror the sad expression on her face; the spark of satisfaction faded.

"Remy, what are you doing?"

"Washing the sheets, mistress." Even as he answered, it occurred to him that it must have been a while since he had promised Cain to come to the kitchen.

Mistress Ellen squatted down next to him and he had to force himself to sit still. "Remy, really... you've been sitting here for hours."

"I know, Mistress, but the sheets-" He fell instantly silent as she raised a finger.

"Don't you have other duties?" she wanted to know gently, and he lowered his eyes.

"I forgot about Cain and the dessert," he admitted quietly. "But, mistress, the sheets-"

"Remy. Look at me."

Only when she put a hand to his cheek did he lift his gaze. Her sky-blue eyes seemed even sadder than before and tears welled up in his own; he hated himself for it.

"Remy, the sheets won't run away from you. You can take care of them tomorrow. But right now, you should wash yourself quickly and then join Cain in the kitchen. I'll bet Therese would be disappointed if she couldn't present the dessert she was looking forward to tonight." That Mistress Ellen herself would be disappointed too, she didn't need to say, he knew that as well.

"I'm sorry, Mistress." he whispered, and a first tear rolled down his cheek. Disappointing his mistresses when they showed him so much kindness was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't cry Remy, nothing happened, you did nothing wrong. I admire your dedication, I really do, but you have to keep promises as well." She caressed his cheek and he nodded.

"I know, Mistress, I'm sorry." Well, taking care of the sheets was kind of a promise to himself...

"Fine. Then clean up here so you can get right on with it tomorrow, and then go to the kitchen. That's an order."

"Yes, mistress." He nodded, though everything in him resisted leaving the unwashed sheets behind.

"Oh, Remy..." she sighed, patting his cheek before standing up. "Maybe I should just stand up to Therese and buy those colorful sheets I like so much."

Horrified, he widened his eyes. "But mistress, how am I supposed to get the stains out of colored sheets properly?"

"Not at all, my dear." She chuckled. "What do we have a washing machine for?"

He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut when she raised a finger once more.

"Leave the sheets alone, will you?"

"Yes, mistress." he said quietly, nodding. "I'll be in the kitchen in ten minutes."

"Very nice. What do you think, do I get a small portion to taste in the studio?"

"Of course, mistress." As if he could deny her a wish. Still, he sighed quietly as she left- colorful sheets? Really? The thought was horrible. He'd never be able to sleep on something like that.

~
 

The smell of fish and seafood hung in the kitchen- it was okay by the sea, but indoors it made Remy's stomach churn.

"Don't pull that face, I'm done with the mussels," Cain called to him, rinsing out a rag. "The fruit is over there, already washed. But wash your hands first, don't want you to kill us all with your chemicals from out there."

It was meant to be a joke, but Remy grimaced and had to pull himself together to keep from turning on his heel. He took a deep breath, tried to ignore the bowl of empty shells, and walked over to the sink so Cain could watch him wash his hands.

"My goodness, Remy, what's the matter with you? You haven't been this jumpy in a long time."

Remy looked up from his suddenly shaking hands and into Cain's face, where amusement gave way to concern. "Just leave me alone, will you?" he asked quietly, and Cain nodded.

"Sure. Sorry."

They both tried smiles, though Cain's was clearly better. Every slave who came to Harlaney House had their share of baggage, but no one was forced to talk about it.

"If you need any help, let me know. I'm done with everything so far, so..."

Remy nodded. "Thanks, I'll be fine." He'd been serving with Cain for five years now and had no idea why the gifted cook had been deemed problematic, but the same was true the other way around. Maybe it was time for a step forward. "Stop the seafood jokes, please."

Cain raised a brow. "I'm trying. Will you tell me why?" A direct question, as was typical of the rather direct Cain.

Instead of answering, Remy washed his hands; Cain turned away and to other things. He wrestled with himself for a while, but as his hands busied themselves with the peaches, he gave himself a push.

"One of my mistresses had a seafood allergy," he said quietly. Fruit juice dripped from his fingers. "She died of anaphylactic shock right in front of us."

Cain sucked in a hissing breath. "Ouch. That sounds ugly. I mean..." he sounded a little surprised, Remy thought, "allergies are ugly in general, but... urgh."

Tell me about it. I was nearly tortured to death with my cat allergy.

"M-hm. Wasn't pretty.", Remy muttered, tossing the peach pit into a bowl. With difficulty, he concentrated on mentally reciting from the fruit sauce recipe, pushing aside Mistress Amaya's face with blue-stained lips.

"Amaya? Amaya, say something!"

"She can't breathe! Call an ambulance!"

"Talk to me!" he begged choking as her desperate gasps rushed in his ears.

"I've been doing some thinking about the meal plan," Cain began casually. "Mistress Therese wanted less sugar and more vegetables, right? Have you seen the pictures of the pizzas being topped like paintings? That could be quite fun, don't you think?"

As Cain chatted, Remy calmed down. It was true, he hadn't been this jumpy in a long time, but he had no idea what that was about; after all, they had had mussels and the like for dinner here more than once a year, and the anniversary of Amaya's death had been two months ago.

"Here, eat." Cain, holding out a piece of honeydew melon, snapped him out of his thoughts. "You already skipped lunch."

Remy nodded and popped the piece into his mouth. Actually, he wanted to ask what would be for dinner for the slaves- when the mistresses had guests, at least the girls were allowed to order food- but Cain was quicker.

"I beat up my mistress's son."

"Excuse me?" Remy almost choked on the fruit.

"The guy felt he could stick his dick anywhere, but I fought back." Suddenly, Cain seemed overly focused on the melon he was slicing. "Shoved a wooden spoon up his ass." He chuckled a little. "Didn't like it so much, somehow."

Remy looked at him, puzzled. "I didn't think you could get so aggressive." Until now, he had actually thought the slave with the flashing blue eyes was very peace-loving.

Cain shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the melon. "I don't like being... touched."

"I understand." Remy nodded and gave him a smile that actually softened his rigid expression. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For your trust."

Now Cain blushed a little and shrugged again. "You're a good guy, Remy..."

No, I'm certainly not...

~
 

Remy opened the door and bowed - by now he knew that Mistress Therese's brother Timothy and her niece Claire were to come, but he was still surprised when there were four people who entered.

"Therese, Ellen!" a woman said in a velvety voice. "Great Mother, I haven't been here in ages."

"You're welcome anytime, Christina", Mistress Therese returned in a way that told Remy those polite words from either side were rather hollow.

He closed the door while now Mistress Ellen joined in the pleasantries, and turned as Mistress Therese greeted her brother. He had only seen Christina Redmond, Claire's mother and Timothy's mistress, in passing the last few times, but each time he saw her she seemed to grow smaller and rounder. However, he hadn't quite finished the thought when his eyes fell on the slave who had stepped to the side in a humble posture.

Anduin.

Remy's heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry.

"... no, Aunt Therese, with Professor Ferris..."

He hadn't seen Anduin in thirteen years, but his older brother hadn't changed. Tall and broad-shouldered he had always been in the eyes of the ever smaller, slimmer Remy, perhaps his face had become a little more angular.

"... don't cry, Riri, it's not my fault..."

The hair, not warm-brown like Remy’s, though cold-blond, but just as wavy, fell boldly into his eyes, which were also cold and bright.

"... you're my little brother, and I love you!"

"Then why are you hurting me?"

"Well, then let's go straight to the dining room." Mistress Ellen sounded disgustingly cheerful. "I took a bite earlier; the boys outdid themselves."

"Claire raves about Cain every time. He's not for sale, by any chance?" With this rather innocuous remark of Christina's, the topic of buying and selling slaves came up plenty early, but it was actually broached whenever women got together.

With a queasy feeling in his stomach, Remy followed the others, trying to ignore Anduin, who showed the typical underlying tenseness of slaves who were not given instructions in strange surroundings and unfamiliar situations.

"Flavius, Remy- the drinks!" Mistress Therese called, barely arrived in the dining room.

"Yes, mistress."

Together they hurried to the kitchen, where carafes of cooled water and a light white wine to match the appetizer were ready. Focusing on that was much better than thinking about Anduin and times past.

"What's the matter, Remy? You're so pale all of a sudden.", Flavius whispered in a hushed tone, for Cain was cursing under his breath.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Remy whispered back, reaching for the water carafes.

Flavius didn't look convinced, but left it at that and grabbed the wine.

Remy wasn't sure what was worse: that Anduin was kneeling apathetically in a corner at first, or that he - upon polite inquiry by Flavius - was later sitting and eating in the kitchen. Because when Remy loaded the cocktail glasses filled with dessert onto a tray and felt Anduin's gaze, his hands began to tremble.

Don't screw up now, okay? You've lived many years quite amazingly without a single thought of him.

But the atmosphere in the dining room also seemed suddenly tense to him as he entered with the tray.

"I quite understand your reasoning, Christina," Mistress Therese said just then seriously, "but actually we had intended to adopt a girl a little less blessed by good fortune."

Surprised, Remy almost lost his footing, the glasses on the tray clinking. This was the first time he'd heard that his mistress wanted to adopt a girl.

"Why ignore family ties when you have them?" Christina returned. Her eyes lit up as Remy handed her one of the dessert glasses.

"Well, it is rather unusual to follow the male bloodline..."

"Quite true, but Claire happens to be the only relative you have left, Therese." Was Remy imagining it, or was Christina's tone turning cool?

At least for a moment all the spoons hovered in the air, he saw, as he respectfully retreated to the wall.

His mistresses exchanged a glance.

"I'm definitely not going to rush into signing any papers," Mistress Therese finally said, a little reluctantly.

"My dear, please, I wasn't talking about that." Christina's smile, which was probably meant to smooth the edges, made her round cheeks tremble. "I want you to take her in, get to know her, and then in two years-"

"Wait, there was no mention of taking her in a second ago."

Remy swallowed. He had missed the beginning of the conversation, but the way the temperature just seemed to drop a few degrees, he would have preferred to slip away and settle for a summary later.

"Actually," Claire now interjected, "that wasn't the plan at all." The light sparkled in her dark blue eyes, making her words- at least to Remy- seem dishonest. "I just got the rejection letter for architecture from both Riverside Academy and the university two days ago. The other rejections came earlier and... well. Hawk's Roost wasn't necessarily what I wanted, Industrial Architecture is not very exciting to me, but... oh well. We spent two days calling everywhere, but of course the official student houses are all full, the bigger private ones too, and-"

"I see." Mistress Therese nodded, displaying a serious and somehow detached expression. In moments like these, Remy was glad not to be one of her students- she was incredibly hard to judge.

"I have a place to study, but no place to stay." Claire shrugged, and Mistress Ellen remarked:

"We actually only take four girls." She too sounded rather cool and distant, which Remy was really not used to from her at all.

"But Claire isn't a normal girl, she's your niece," Timothy said quietly now, and Mistress Therese sighed.

"I'm aware of that."

"This is a wonderful chance to get to know her better," Christina began again. "I'm not even saying you should throw any of the other girls out, my goodness, I'm not a monster..."

An uncomfortable silence fell for a moment, during which Mistress Therese and Mistress Ellen seemed to be having a wordless conversation. Again Remy wished he could wait in the kitchen with the others.

"All right. You've got two years to convince me of you," Mistress Therese finally said, still showing her professional blank expression.

"Oh thank you, Aunt Therese!" Claire beamed, reminding Remy for a moment of the girl, the child, he had first met many years ago. "Anduin and I-"

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"Anduin and I-"

Mistress Therese shook her head. "None of the girls here are allowed a personal slave. Besides, you're not even old enough to have one."

Now it was Christina's turn to shake her head. "Anduin belonged to my mother. She died in spring and specifically left him to Claire."

"That's-"

"Dear, I wonder if we could talk quietly for a moment?" Mistress Ellen intervened, her face giving Remy cause for concern.

Please don't, he prayed silently, oh please, please don't...

His mistresses left the dining room, Christina and Claire whispering, and Remy's stomach ached.

"Why is she doing this? Anduin, why is she doing this to us?"

"I don't know, little brother. But no matter what, I got you, okay?"

Although Remy was wearing only light clothing for this informal meeting, the event itself was enough to make him sweat. He wasn't quite sure he understood why, exactly, Claire was supposed to convince her aunt of herself, but the prospect of having Anduin here in the house was shocking enough. He hadn't missed his brother.

"Anduin may stay. But he will live just like the other slaves here, with the same rules and duties. Are we clear?" The casual gesture with which Mistress Therese adjusted her glasses strangely punctuated the underlying sharpness in her words.

No! Anything but that! Not Anduin here at Harlaney House!

It seemed to work, because Claire nodded dutifully.

"We'll discuss everything else later."

"Remy, tell Anduin to get the stuff out of the car," Claire said, and Mistress Therese's face twitched.

Remy merely nodded mutely, for he did not trust his voice.

"Have Flavius help him," Mistress Ellen added.

Again Remy just nodded mutely and went into the kitchen. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if the Great Mother herself had waved at him from one of the countless pictures on the walls, so focused was he on putting one foot in front of the other and not screaming in horror.

"Flavius and Anduin are to get Miss Claire's belongings from the car," he said dully as he entered the kitchen, interrupting Marc, who must have just told a funny story, because the four slaves were all laughing.

"Already on the way." Flavius hopped off his chair and the two walked out; as the door closed, Remy leaned against the kitchen island with trembling knees.

"You look like shit," Cain said, direct as ever.

"Did something happen?", Marc wanted to know before Cain could voice it.

"Claire is staying here to study. And with her, Anduin."

Oh Great Mother, please don't, this is a nightmare!

"Why a nightmare?" Cain asked hesitantly.

Confused, Remy blinked at him until he realized he had spoken the thought aloud. "I know Anduin from the past," he replied quietly.

"That bad?" Marc asked skeptically, while Cain looked like he was at least beginning to understand what was going on inside Remy.

"Bad enough."

Anduin loved him, he was sure of that, and in return he loved his brother too, sort of, but...

... brotherly love had limits. Should know limits.

... orders had to be obeyed...

... right?